work_2hww4vvv5vdtpb6sitjl4lazja	----	RQX_73_1_BookReviews 287..288 aim of these comforters, argues Ferrante, was to mediate and balance the conflicting emotions of strict justice by the commune with mercy toward the soul of the con- demned by ensuring their good death through acceptance of punishment. Given the timing of this development, one of the larger questions posed by this collection is whether the mid-fourteenth century in Italy might have marked a sharpened awareness of the power of emotional language and discourse. Indeed, Andrea Zorzi identifies the emergence of a common language of anguish, insecurity, and foreboding in Tuscan cit- ies in the 1330s through a series of sensitive readings of Lorenzetti’s Sienna frescoes on good and bad government, the chapters on Florence’s greatness in book 12 of Villani’s Chronicle, and Bufalmacco’s fresco cycle Triumph of Death in the Camposanto in Pisa. This collection is a welcome contribution to the burgeoning field of the history of emotions, demonstrating a range of creative paths scholars can pursue to explore the practice and impact of emotions in the power relations of Renaissance Italy—even if some essays consider emotions only in a subordinate way. The production qualities of the book, however, sometimes fall below an acceptable standard: the two illustrations referenced in chapter 2 as figures 1 and 2 (57, 62) are not to be found; there are too many missing words, unfinished sentences, and misspellings, with page 158 as probably the worst example. Nevertheless, this does not detract from the solid scholarship and intellectual stimulation of many of the essays. Charles Zika, University of Melbourne doi:10.1017/rqx.2019.542 A Companion to the Spanish Renaissance. Hilaire Kallendorf, ed. The Renaissance Society of America Texts and Studies 11. Leiden: Brill, 2019. xxii + 676 pp. $379. This Companion to the Spanish Renaissance brings to the public a well-balanced compen- dium of views on the Renaissance in the multiple sixteenth- and seventeenth-century Iberian worlds. The volume’s objective is to revalorize the Spanish Renaissance through twenty-two essays that dwell on specialized aspects of the Renaissance while remaining on an introductory level. The number of topics approached by the volume is impressive, while as a whole it is also very pertinent. A constant motif throughout each essay is the value of the Spanish Renaissance in the context of competing academic discourses that traditionally focus on the Italian, English, and French Renaissances. Upon my first reading, I must admit that I was puzzled by the assortment of topics, the information provided, and the combination of scholars. Yet after reading a number of the essays I realized that this is a well-crafted introduction to the Spanish Renaissance. Furthermore, the book comes at a crucial moment in curricular development in REVIEWS 287 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:16, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core departments of Spanish around the United States, where the field of Renaissance studies seems to be in decline, the victim of deliberate institutional neglect. The reasons for the decline are numerous, among them the complacent emphasis on decontextualizing cul- tures, academic turf wars, canon erosion, and a managerial approach on the part of insti- tutions. In the introduction, Hilaire Kallendorf gives an informative explanation about how the Renaissance Society of America came to embrace more and more panels and associated organizations related to Spain and the Americas. On the one hand, this came as the RSA recognized its own limited approaches to the Renaissance; on the other hand, the epistemological shift of the RSA seems to come to terms with the demeaning racism of traditional political and academic views about Spain and Latin America. Linking this book to the intellectual shift in the RSA enhances it not only in con- nection with the role of the RSA’s annual meetings in invigorating the field of Spanish and Latin American studies but also as a pedagogical tool. The book is an assortment of historical and literary essays that touch on many issues relevant for university-level courses. The book is very pedagogical, clearly explaining basic concepts related to the period, such as cristiano viejo (247), Morisco, carta de privilegio, habit of the orders (246), Erasmism and Stoicism (333–37), humanism (318), etc. All those concepts, and many others, are introduced within historical, literary, geographic, ethnographic, scientific, and religious contexts. Several of the sections of the book deal with humanism, literacy, philosophy, mys- ticism, and law, on the one hand, and with science, money, and historiography, on the other. In addition, it covers courts, nobility, cities, communities, and ethnicity, as well as the traditionally well-recognized Iberian literature and fine arts. Since the volume contains twenty-two essays, a detailed description of their content and a critical judg- ment of each of them is beyond the length of this review. Yet aside from highlighting that the volume content is focused, large in scope, and a pertinent mise en place of the Spanish Renaissance, I would like to indicate that all the notes of the volume open new windows for the student and the specialist. As a result, the bibliography is an updated database for academic research into the Spanish Renaissance. Finally, I want to stress that the index of the collection is an appropriate means for appreciating just how much studies of the Spanish Renaissance have matured. For instance, one can find con- comitant entries on global culture, courts, Basques, Valencia, Goa, Eusebio Kino, friendship, networking, Jews, silver, Santa Teresa, markets, birth giving, metallurgy, and Native Americans, among thousands of others. It is a pleasure to read all of the articles in this book and it is definitely a wonderful tool for engaging students in the appreciation of the Renaissance at large. Any course related to the Habsburg early modern conglomerates of power would benefit from the use of this volume as a textbook or as a reference book. Juan Pablo Gil-Osle, Arizona State University doi:10.1017/rqx.2019.543 RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY288 VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 1 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:16, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_37536nfxy5bxrpztut6qgye5fa	----	Book Reviews introduced the modern system of clinical instruction" (p. 62), her view that La Mettrie extensively employed the great man's medicine seems well-founded (that Boerhaave encouraged sexual reproduction as her text on p. 62 suggests seems less plausible). The fundamental problem with this book, however, is that it is an exercise in rational reconstruction. Lacking any account by La Mettrie of the purpose of his work and the reason for the sequence of it, and any evidence for its employment by contemporaries other than to dismiss it, Wellman constructs a hypothetical tale of what La Mettrie intended to do, what he really meant, how his research led him to this or that conclusion, what he thought and why, what tradition led La Mettrie to what and so forth. Wellman constructs a picture of La Mettrie rationally exploring the issues confronting the intelligent eighteenth-century medical man and creates a hypothetical account of how he came to enlightened but misunderstood conclusions. Actually, as far as knowing why La Mettrie said and did what he said and did, we have scarcely a clue. Christopher Lawrence, Wellcome Institute BRUCE T. MORAN (ed.), Patronage and institutions: science, technology and medicine at the European court, 1500-1750, Woodbridge, The Boydell Press, 1991, pp. 262, illus., £35.00 (0-85115-285-6). This collection of essays derives from the symposium on 'Science, technology, and medicine at the European court' held as part of the Eighteenth International Congress for the History of Science, at Munich in 1989. The eight papers delivered at the symposium have been supplemented with four others. The list of contributors is a roll call of some of the best younger scholars working in the field of Renaissance and early modern science and medicine, and the standard of scholarship is uniformly high. The strong themes of patronage and the effect of the institutional setting give unity to a collection which ranges from theories of impact to geography, from Paracelsianism to optics, from Denmark to Italy, and from Britain to Austria. Not all the papers are directly relevant to the history of medicine, but because this is such an excellent collection it is worth briefly indicating the riches on offer. Paula Findlen opens the proceedings with an excellent survey of the ways in which the exchange of gifts of natural objects or written works served to disseminate information, forge intellectual links, establish reputations and authority, and to win patronage. William Eamon follows with a survey of some of the ways in which "scientific careers" were affected by their "institutional locus", whether in princely courts, academies or printing houses. W. R. Laird looks at the history of theories of impact before the development of the mechanical philosophy. He introduces the reader to a group of mathematicians and mechanics with occupational and professional interests in impact as a result of their relations with patrons and employers. Lesley B. Cormack describes a network of "geographically-minded" intellectuals (concerned with navigation, map-making, and colonization) associated with the court of Henry, Prince of Wales, in the early years of the seventeenth century. William B. Ashworth Jr shows how work in geometrical optics and mathematics was presented by a group of thinkers in a way calculated to flatter the Hapsburg monarchs. Ashworth draws particularly upon the evidence provided by engraved title-pages. The editor provides an overview of how the interests of German princes affected scientific activity in courts, universities and academies. This paper has much to interest the historian of medicine, dealing amongst other things with Paracelsianism and chemiatria. David Lux, in a thoughtful piece, points out that recent historical studies on early modern science have given rise to the need for a general reassessment of the institutional setting of science, medicine and technology. Alice Stroup shows how political theorists in the France of Louis XIV resisted the mercantilist policies of the government in which natural philosophy and technology played an increasingly important role. A. J. G. Cummings and Larry Stewart move into the eighteenth century with an examination of how the new philosophy was used by entrepreneurs to give legitimacy to their schemes. 102 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300057847 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300057847 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Reviews In addition there are three papers which are directly concerned with the history of medicine in the period. Jole Shackelford gives a succinct but superb account of the fortunes of Paracelsianism in Denmark as a result of the work of Petrus Severinus, Johannes Pratensis and Tycho Brahe and their support by Frederick II. Harold J. Cook's paper succeeds in showing the ways in which "changes in the political direction of a nation" might affect medicine, by looking at the changes brought about in England after the Glorious Revolution. Apart from a suggestion that the ontological theory of disease received a boost at this time, Cook concentrates on the institutional changes in medicine wrought by the political scene. Finally, Pamela H. Smith shows how Johann Joachim Becher tried to use his knowledge of medicine and natural philosophy to give him authority to treat the "body politic" of Bavaria, where he was court physician and mathematician to the Elector. Becher's task was to convince the prince and his more conservative advisers that commerce was a natural and productive means of producing wealth. He did so by drawing an analogy between the workings ofcommerce and the cycle of nourishment and consumption in the human body. Historical studies of the role of patronage in the history of science and medicine are in vogue and the most significant of these studies show how the conceptual content of science and medicine is directly affected by the nature of the patronage it receives. Not all of these studies succeed in this regard but they all make important contributions to our understanding of the historical background. John Henry, Science Studies Unit, University of Edinburgh DANIELLE GOUREVITCH (ed.), Maladie et maladies: histoire et conceptualisation. Melanges en l'honneur de Mirko Grmek, Hautes Etudes Medievales et Modernes 70, Geneva, Librairie Droz, 1992, pp. lxxii, 473. The retirement of Mirko Grmek from his chair in the history of medicine at the Ecole pratique des Hautes Etudes in Paris has been marked by this collection of essays by his friends and pupils. Croat by birth and French by naturalisation, he has always displayed a formidable range of knowledge of all aspects of medical history to go with his equally wide linguistic competence. From palaeopathology and the ancient Greeks to Claude Bernard and modern AIDS, there is little on which he has not touched or on which he has not had something of value and importance to contribute. Whether in personal communication, on international committees (including five years on the Wellcome Trust's History of Medicine Panel), by his endeavours to reach out as a medical historian to a wider public, or by his teaching in Paris and at the International Summer School on Ischia, he has sought to inform and to bring together all those whose interest and expertise might be profitably conjoined for the greater understanding of medicine and its history. It is fitting that the contributors have all considered one of Grmek's favourite themes, disease, its incidence, characterisation, and history. They range from problems in palaeopathology (including leprosy), through aspects of Egyptian, Islamic, and Tibetan medicine, to concepts of disease and cure in Slav poetry and in modern molecular biology. There are two essays on the French renaissance, and three on the eighteenth century, but the bulk of the contributors deal with classical antiquity or the nineteenth century. Wounds, intestinal incontinence, poisoning, the diseases of maritime communities, and the complex story of how the "disease of Hercules" came to be identified as epilepsy are but some of the classical themes; tuberculosis, meningitis, and yellow fever some of the later topics. All display, directly or indirectly, the effects of their author's links with the honorand, and all show that high standard of research and insight that we have come to associate with him. Mirko Grmek is a prolific writer, as his bibliography reveals, and we hope that he will continue to stimulate and inform for many years more. He has also been a tireless advocate, for medical history and, not at least, for the inhabitants of his own Croatia in these dark times. His friends have given him an appropriate tribute. Vivian Nutton, Wellcome Institute 103 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300057847 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300057847 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_2gxoaqdmkrgmtlyivpoaa2kblq	----	S0018246X17000395jra 561..595 THE POPULARITY OF ANCIENT HISTORIANS, –* F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N University of Exeter A B S T R A C T . The histories of ancient Greece and Rome are part of a shared European heritage, and a foundation for many modern Western social and cultural traditions. Their printing and circula- tion during the Renaissance helped to shape the identities of individual nations, and create different reading publics. Yet we still lack a comprehensive understanding of the forms in which works of Greek and Roman history were published in the first centuries of the handpress age, the relationship between the ideas contained within these texts and the books as material objects, and thus the precise nature of the changes they effected in early modern European culture and society. This article provides the groundwork for a reassessment of the place of ancient history in the early modern world. Using new, digital resources to reappraise existing scholarship, it offers a fresh evaluation of the publication of the ancient historians from the inception of print to , revealing important differences that alter our understanding of particular authors, texts, and trends, and suggesting directions for further research. It also models the research possibilities of large-scale digital catalogues and databases, and highlights the possibilities (and pitfalls) of these resources. I In , Peter Burke published a survey of the popularity of ancient Greek and Roman historians in early modern Europe. History – and the history of the classical past, in particular – occupied a special place in the culture of Europe in this age of intellectual development and new print technology, on account of its perceived moral value, as well as its practical political and military applica- tions, and Burke’s article has become an extremely influential study, informing * I am grateful to the audiences in Exeter, Cambridge, St Andrews, and at The Huntington Library, California, who provided feedback on this research as it progressed; to the colleagues and anonymous readers whose comments have shaped this article; to Andrew Pettegree, Malcolm Walsby, and the USTC team for providing early access to their database and enabling the research to begin; to Paulina Kewes, at the outset; and to Peter Burke, for the inspiration.  Peter Burke, ‘A survey of the popularity of ancient historians’, History and Theory,  (), pp. –. History Department, University of Exeter, Amory Building, Rennes Drive, Exeter, EX RJ f.coxjensen@ exeter.ac.uk The Historical Journal, ,  (), pp. – © Cambridge University Press  doi:./SX  terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core mailto:f.coxjensen@exeter.ac.uk mailto:f.coxjensen@exeter.ac.uk https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core numerous pieces of work in the fields of history, literature, and classical reception. The premise of Burke’s survey is that the number of editions of a book pro- duced in any one period can be used as a blunt tool to assess its popularity, and that popularity is an indicator of taste. As Burke points out, the ancient histor- ians ‘were not equally popular in this period, nor with the same people, nor for the same reasons’, and it is a sense of how and why the relative fortunes of the various historians shifted over the years  to  that his article seeks to provide. But as the legacy of Burke’s article has shown, a survey of this kind has the potential to do far more than merely indicate changing tastes in history. History, in the early modern period, was a means by which debates on current affairs could be conducted; history not only shaped, but also reflected, the most pressing issues of the time. Popularity could also be said to be synonymous with significance, relevance, or influence, rather than repre- senting simply the appetites of the market. After all, publication is not, and never has been, a neutral event, but rather a conscious decision made on the part of one or more individuals, be they publishers or patrons; it can therefore give an insight into more than the ‘taste’ of readers. In the early modern period, books were published for financial gain, when someone invested money in order to make a profit by supplying the demand of an existing market, or cre- ating a new one; publishing was also driven by political motives, by factors to do with status and social standing, and by ideological aims. These last might include the desire to promulgate a particular moral or religious message, or to create an identity; they might also include the broader humanist ideals  For a comprehensive assessment of the role of history in early modern Europe, see Anthony Grafton, What was history? The art of history in early modern Europe (Cambridge, ). Work drawing upon Burke includes J. H. Whitfield, ‘Livy>Tacitus’, in R. R. Bolgar, ed., Classical influences on European culture, A.D. – (Cambridge, ), pp. –; Markku Peltonen, Classical humanism and republicanism in English political thought, – (Cambridge, ); Patricia J. Osmond, ‘“Princeps Historiae Romanae”: Sallust in Renaissance political thought’, Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome,  (), pp. – ; Eric Nelson, The Greek tradition in republican thought (Cambridge, ); Robin Sowerby, ‘Ancient history’, in Gordon Braden, Robert Cummings, and Stuart Gillespie, eds., The Oxford history of literary translation in England, II: – (Oxford, ), pp. –; Warren Chernaik, The myth of Rome in Shakespeare and his contemporaries (Cambridge, ); Philip Hicks, ‘The ancient historians in Britain’, in David Hopkins and Charles Martindale, eds., The Oxford history of classical reception in English literature, III: – (Oxford, ), pp. –.  Burke, ‘The popularity of ancient historians’, p. .  See, for example, Ronald Syme, ‘Roman historians and Renaissance politics’, in Society and history in the Renaissance: a report of a conference held at the Folger Library on April  and ,  (Washington, DC, ), pp. –; Peter Burke, The Renaissance sense of the past (London, ); Paulina Kewes, ed., The uses of history in early modern England (San Marino, CA, ); Arnaldo Momigliano, The classical foundations of modern historiography (Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA, ); Gary Ianziti, Writing history in Renaissance Italy: Leonardo Bruni and the uses of the past (Cambridge, MA, ).  Andrew Pettegree, The book in the Renaissance (New Haven, CT, ), pp. xiv, –, –.  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core that deemed education and active citizenship to be necessary virtues in a suc- cessful commonwealth, inspiring across Europe the ‘vigorous cultural pro- gramme’ designed to create such a society. New resources, developed over the half-century since Burke’s article first appeared, make it possible to reassess the popularity of the ancient historians, and this is what I aim to do here, in order to make it possible for scholars to re-evaluate accurately the role of these authors in the early modern world. In particular, the Universal short title catalogue (USTC) now provides a ‘collective database’ of books printed on the continent of Europe, to , bringing together existing national catalogues and new comprehensive surveys of early print in such areas as Iberian Peninsula and the Netherlands. It is this database that I have used to conduct my survey. Its scope far exceeds that of the tools available to Burke: the three volumes of F. L. A. Schweiger’s Handbuch der clas- sischen Bibliographie (Leipzig, –), and the supplementary works used to supply its shortcomings. Nothing comparable to the USTC yet exists for the seventeenth century, so I have ended my survey at the close of the sixteenth century. Following Burke, I have counted the works of the ancient historians he selected as most worthy of attention, and classified them, as he did, by lan- guage and date of publication. My results suggest modifications to Burke’s appraisal of the relative popularities and probable readers of some of these books; my reworking of Burke’s data provides, I hope, a more representative foundation for subsequent work on the reception of the ancient historians in the early modern world, and indicates alternative lines of inquiry to those that have been pursued to date. Printing statistics are the most useful and comprehensive way to begin to make arguments about the relative popularity, or significance, of various texts and authors. Indeed, in the absence of many other indicators that would allow the effective comparison of books – size of print run, proportion of books sold and unsold, evidence of ownership, and so on – the fact that a book was produced in a certain year is one of the only ways to do this. Nevertheless, there are some problems with using these data, and limitations to the arguments that can be made, and it would be dishonest, as well as counter-productive, not to acknowledge these fully.  Jill Kraye and M. W. F. Stone, eds., Humanism and early modern philosophy (London, ), p. xii. See also Rebecca Bushnell, A culture of teaching: early modern humanism in theory and practice (Ithaca, NY, ); James Hankins, ed., Renaissance civic humanism: reappraisals and reflections (Cambridge, ).  For more information, see www.ustc.ac.uk.  Including A. Palau y Dulcet, Manual del librero Hispano-Americano (Barcelona, –), cited in Burke, ‘The popularity of ancient historians’, p. .  The USTC is currently being extended into the seventeenth century, but coverage is incomplete, so I have avoided it here.  On the lack of other useful evidence, see James Raven, The business of books: booksellers and the English book trade, – (New Haven, CT, ), p. . P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core http://www.ustc.ac.uk https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core A focus on information about book production, such as the year and place of printing, assumes, to some extent, a national model of book production and consumption, which was manifestly not the case in early modern Europe. Not only is it anachronistic to map modern geopolitical concepts onto the early modern world, but given that the majority of printing took place in a small number of printing centres, whence the books were then exported across borders and boundaries, the place of publication is unhelpful in representing accurately either where a book was consumed, or the popularity of that book in a place other than its country of origin. There is not necessarily a correlation between place of printing and language, Spanish books being frequently pro- duced in both France and the Netherlands, for example, as Burke shows in his study. The situation is, perhaps, slightly different for vernacular transla- tions, which are more likely to have found a substantial share of their market primarily within one region or country; moreover, since scholars have been keen to trace connections between vernacular translation and the populariza- tion of the classics as education improved across the continent, a focus on the language in which a book was printed may be a more useful approach. Even then, however, it should be noted that vernacular editions were often pro- duced in cities and countries far from where they were destined to be sold, and evidence of book ownership reminds us that many vernacular editions found readers outside their ‘home’ country. Given that print runs are unknown for the vast majority of books produced in the early modern period, it is also impossible to reach any conclusions about the absolute number of a book in circulation at any one time. This, in turn, means that the number of editions of a book is not necessarily a reliable indicator of  Burke, ‘The popularity of ancient historians’, pp. –.  For example, James Hankins, ‘Humanism in the vernacular: the case of Leonardo Bruni’, in Christopher S. Celenza and Kenneth Gouwens, eds., Humanism and creativity in the Renaissance: essays in honour of Ronald G. Witt (Leiden, ), pp. –; Andrew Galloway, ‘John Lydgate and the origins of vernacular humanism’, Journal of English and Germanic Philology,  (), pp. –; Brian Jeffrey Maxon, ‘“This sort of men”: the vernacular and the Humanist movement in fifteenth-century Florence’, I Tatti Studies in the Italian Renaissance (Sept. ), pp. –. For recent considerations of decisions to write and/or print in Latin or a vernacular, see Jan Bloemendal, Bilingual Europe: Latin and vernacular cultures, examples of bilingualism and multilingualism, c. – (Leiden, ).  These issues are highlighted by the various essays in José Mariá Pérez Fernández and Edward Wilson-Lee, eds., Translation and the book trade in early modern Europe (New York, NY, ). See also the various volumes compiled by R. J. Fehrenbach and Elisabeth Leedham- Green, Private libraries in Renaissance England: a collection and catalogue of Tudor and early Stuart book-lists (Binghamton, NY, – ); H. M. Adams, Catalogue of books printed on the continent of Europe, –, in Cambridge libraries (Cambridge, ).  On print runs, see, for example, D. F. McKenzie, ‘Printers of the mind: some notes on bib- liographical theories and printing-house practices’, Studies in Bibliography,  (), pp. –, at pp. –; Brian Richardson, Printing, writers and readers in Renaissance Italy (Cambridge, ), pp. ff; Eltjo Buringh and Jan Luiten van Zanden, ‘Charting the “rise of the West”: manuscripts and printed books in Europe, a long-term perspective from the sixth through eighteenth centuries’, Journal of Economic History,  (), pp. –, at p. .  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core absolute reach or popularity: if Book A entered three editions within ten years, but each of these editions had a print run of  books, then as many copies of that book would be available as of Book B, which was produced in a single edition with a print run of ,. If all these copies were bought (an unknow- able fact), then both books could be said to be equally popular, yet counting the number of editions would suggest that Book A was three times as popular. Nor is it always clear what the production of a new edition meant, without closer examination of the details of that particular book, something that often proves difficult in a large-scale, statistical survey, where the extant copies of many of the books are spread all over the world. If a second or third edition of an existing book was produced after an interval of several years, we might reasonably infer that the first edition had sold out, and more copies were needed; we might also infer that for any edition to be printed, the publisher investing in its production had good reason to think that it would sell, whether this turned out to be the case or not. But a book that dif- fered substantially from earlier products might be offered to the market for any number of reasons – it might cater for a different readership altogether, or it might be intended as a direct competitor to an existing product, which it might or might not outsell – and treating books as numbers obscures these nuances. Perhaps the most serious disadvantage of a survey of the production of printed editions of ancient historians’ works is the distorting effect upon the realities of the way that early modern people acquired and interacted with books. The analysis of editions is only possible once the technology of print starts to be used, but, of course, the beginning of print did not mean the end of manuscript production. Any study based on printing statistics necessarily privileges print technology and fails to take account of manuscript transmission, a vital part of textual circulation during the whole early modern period. Nor does a survey of new editions entering the marketplace take account of the used book trade, another highly significant component in the global picture of buying and selling books. There is no satisfactory way to correct for these biases, and to ignore the pos- sibilities offered by the analysis of print production data because the data are  See, for example, Brian Richardson, Manuscript culture in Renaissance Italy (Cambridge, ); Harold Love and Arthur F. Marotti, ‘Manuscript transmission and circulation’, in David Loewenstein and Janel Mueller, eds., The Cambridge history of early modern England literature (Cambridge, ), pp. –.  Frederic Barbier, ‘Bouquinistes, libraires spécialisés’, in Roger Chartier and Henri-Jean Martin, eds., Histoire de l’édition française, III: Le temps des éditeurs, du romantism à la belle époque (Paris, ); Malcolm Walsby, ‘Book lists and their meanings’, in Malcolm Walsby and Natasha Constantinidou, eds., Documenting the early modern book world: inventories and catalogues in manuscript and print (Leiden, ), pp. –; Angela Nuovo, The book trade in the Italian Renaissance (Leiden, ). The phenomenon was not limited to books: see Laurence Fontaine, ed., Alternative exchanges: second-hand circulations from the sixteenth century to the present (New York, NY, ), pp. –. P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core imperfect would be foolish. As long as we bear in mind that they cannot ever provide us with the whole picture, and that any statistical data of this kind can only ever be incomplete and imperfect, we may proceed with caution. I I In preparing these revised statistics, a number of methodological choices have been made, which have necessarily influenced the outcome. Burke’s method- ology is not explicitly discussed in detail in his  article, making it difficult to reproduce his study accurately; this is something I hope to avoid here, in explaining the decisions I have taken, and the implications of these for what this study can, and cannot, do. I have followed, for this survey, the methods of the USTC project team regarding editions, issues, and states. The USTC is ‘constructed on the principle of recording bibliographically distinct states of a book as separate items. It should be emphasized that these do not always represent separate editions.’ I have counted as a separate entity every item that has been given an individual USTC number; otherwise-identical texts issued at the same time, but with slightly different details on the title page – usually the name of a different bookseller, publisher, or printer – have there- fore been identified as discrete entities, though they do not represent different editions. For example, the eight French octavos of Thucydides’s History printed in Paris in  have been identified as eight separate items, because each bears a different imprint, and therefore has its own USTC number. The same is true if long works were published in multiple volumes, usually in small format: each volume has its own USTC catalogue number, and has therefore been counted as separately, that is, as a distinct collection of pages that a consumer could, in theory, purchase. My figures are therefore not a record of editions, but of books in different states. I am concerned, throughout, with the production of books: with the choices made by the actors engaged in the production process in order to create books and to sell them, in the course of business; I am therefore interested in the various individual artefacts on the market, and the ways in which they were presented to prospective consumers, so I have counted each of these items, rather than the number of editions, and I refer to ‘books’ rather than to ‘editions’. If a book exists in multiple states within the same edition, it is probably not ‘as popular’, or popular in the same way,  Andrew Pettegree, Malcolm Walsby, and Alexander Wilkinson, eds., French vernacular books: books published in the French language before  ( vols., Leiden, ), p. ix.  Thucydides, L’histoire contenant les guerres qui ont esté entre les Peloponesiens et les Atheniens (Paris, ), USTC , , , , , , , . On termin- ology, see Terry Belanger, ‘Descriptive bibliography’, in Jean Peters, ed., Book collecting: a modern guide (New York, NY, and London, ), pp. –.  Plutarch is a prime example of this, and printing in France and Switzerland is particularly notable for publishing practices giving rise to different states of a ‘book’ within the same edition; these examples will occur in my survey with somewhat greater frequency than would otherwise be the case, though they do not distort the general trends unduly.  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core as one that enters several editions – though, of course, without knowing the size of each print run, and the proportion of the edition sold, it is impossible to say this for certain. Histories existing in multiple states will therefore inevitably be somewhat over-represented as a result of my method of counting, and the indi- vidual figures should be treated as containing a small margin of error. I have searched the USTC for the ancient authors in Burke’s study, using first the ‘author’ field, and then the ‘keyword’ field. I have recorded the books printed in the years up to, and including, , in order to facilitate a compari- son with Burke’s analysis, which is conducted using fifty-year intervals ending in , , , and so on. To maintain congruity with the sources, I have used the dates in the style given on the books themselves. When works by more than one ancient historian appear within a book, that book has been counted for each author. The sum total for all the authors is therefore slightly greater than the total number of discrete books, since the same book sometimes appears more than once. I have conducted my search by the name of the author: my results only include works by authors that the USTC database iden- tifies by name; therefore, if a collection claiming to be ‘collected out of various ancient authors’ does not bear the name of an author, I will not have found that work, even though substantial portions of an ancient, historical text may be reproduced within that book. Burke counted the number of particular works by his chosen ancient histor- ians, with the exception of Caesar, whose works he considered together, simply as Commentaries, despite the existence of several books containing only the Gallic Wars or the Civil Wars. I have not followed his lead, instead counting each indi- vidual book containing any historical work by the historians Burke selected. Identifying which text by an ancient historian a particular book contains, using the information provided by the USTC, is not always straightforward; con- sultation of additional printed catalogues, and examination of the books them- selves (physically, or via digital facsimile where these exist), is sometimes necessary to determine accurately the precise textual contents. Often, a book contains more than one text: a volume entitled Opera, for example, will usually contain all the extant works by that author. Ancient historians of whose works several survive – such as Josephus, Tacitus, Caesar, among others – present further difficulties, since numerous combinations of these works appeared in printed form. I have simply counted each book that provided readers with access to one or more of the histories by that author. My study therefore provides information about the relative ‘popularity’ of the ancient his- torians, not of their individual works.  This has been done wherever possible. Of the books initially appearing doubtful, in them- selves no more than  per cent of the total sample, I have been able to verify over  per cent. However, it has not been possible to inspect a copy of every one of the >, books in hard copy in the course of this study, though I hope, in time, to do so; the collections in which some sole copies survive are spread around the world, and their examination calls for substan- tial resourcing, and there are still some books about whose contents I am unsure. P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core Some books present particular difficulties. Numerous books bear the title De viris illustribus; this could refer to a work by Aurelius Victor (also frequently attributed to Pliny the Younger), Nepos (also known as Aemilius Probus), Suetonius, Plutarch, or another author. The distinctions between, and attribu- tions of works to, some of these authors were the subject of much mistake and a considerable degree of scholarly debate in the Renaissance; whether an error matters to a modern scholar depends on whether it is the content of the text that is of primary interest, or what people at the time believed they were buying or reading; or, to be more accurate, what producers at the time chose to advertise to their customers. My current focus here is necessarily on the ways in which books were offered for sale – on their marketing and advertising by means of their title pages – because this is the level of information it is pos- sible to extract from a short-title catalogue. This study therefore reflects the world of book selling (encompassing the various ways in which producers mar- keted their texts to prospective buyers and readers), rather than the world of reading and reception. So, for example, I have chosen to include works purport- ing to be and advertising themselves as such in their titles, Plutarch’s Life of Hannibal and Scipio, or Life of Homer, because although modern scholarship does not recognize these as the work of Plutarch, that is how they were offered for sale in the early modern period. It is the inclusion of Plutarch’s name, as author, in the title that determines the inclusion of this book in my survey, rather than anything else; therefore other works containing this same portion of text but not advertising Plutarch’s authorship will not have been included, and the same doubtless applies to a number of other texts. My method also allows for a consideration of historical works wider than those selected by Burke. Of Xenophon’s several historical pieces, for example, he selected only two, which he chose to refer to as Cyrus and Expedition. My method necessitates the inclusion of all Xenophon’s historical works, although I have excluded the Socratic dialogues such as the Oeconomicus, or the Renaissance favourite, Hercules (i.e. Heracles), the story of which is spoken by Socrates in Xenophon’s Memorabilia. Admittedly, these do function as records for the history of Socrates, and for the history of society in the time of Xenophon, and the episode of ‘Hercules’ is often presented as a piece of  For example, I have counted as ‘Plutarch’ the following: Homer, De homeri vita homeri opera Graecolatina, quae quidem nunc extant omnia: praeter operam Sebastiani castalionis, nunc ad postremam Henrici Stephani, ac aliorum quorundam editionem diligenter collata, ac fideliter expressa. Quibus accessit item commentarij vice liber Plutarchi de homero. Cum indicibus locupletißimis. Liber de homero (Basel, ), USTC . I am grateful to the anonymous reviewer for drawing my attention to the frequent inclusion of this pseudo-Plutarchan biography in the works of Poliziano (see, for example, Philip Ford, De Troie à Ithaque (Geneva, )), as well as in the various editions of Homer. I have not found the work to be advertised on the title page of editions of Poliziano, so these are not included in here; and to give an indication of scale, I have found only ten instances where Plutarch’s name being advertised as author of the Life of Homer in the title of the book in question, out of more than  books of Plutarch’s Lives printed to .  Burke, ‘The popularity of ancient historians’, p. .  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core historical narration or story: Ein sehr liebliche historische narration oder erzelung von dem edlen jungen helde dem Hercule; aus dem Xenophonte genommen und mit schonen Außlegungen erkleret. Some of the dialogues also seem intended to function in the same way as histories in the early modern world, as useful guides for the present, such as Xenophontis socratici rhetoris Hieron sive tyrannus, liber utilissi- mus his qui rempublicam administrant. The exclusion of these works, on the grounds that they are ‘not historical’, is therefore a decision with which I am not wholly content, but it does facilitate a better comparison with Burke, and some publishers clearly did distinguish between historical and moral works, and entitled their books accordingly, as with L’opere morali (Venice, ). All Tacitus’s works have been included in my tally, except the Dialogus. In the case of Suetonius, too, I have incorporated more works than simply the Twelve Caesars selected by Burke. Other partially surviving works include various com- ponents of the De viris illustribus, on the lives of the poets, the historians, the grammarians, and the rhetoricians. On many occasions, these fragments appear alongside the Twelve Caesars, but even when they were published separ- ately, readers would have been able to learn about some of the same kind of ‘history’ from these minor works as from the Twelve Caesars: the history of the chief actors in classical history. I have thus included books containing these frag- ments in my list. Deciding which books to count is always a subjective, critical exercise, and it becomes even more problematic with books that are ‘versions’ of a text. These might be excerpts, collections or commentaries, or paraphrases or digests. To include only the ‘original’ source text, in translation or in the vernacular, may at first seem a desirable strategy; but there is no such thing as an ‘original’ text of any of the ancient histories. The texts were all necessarily altered, to various extents, in their transmission over the centuries since their composition; a translation from one language into another always results in a transformation of the source text as the translator imbues it with new meanings, intentionally or subconsciously; and excerpts or paraphrases incur yet another layer of modifi- cation. It is therefore sometimes difficult to draw an absolute line between  Xenophon, Ein sehr liebliche historische narration oder erzelung von dem edlen jungen helde dem Hercule; aus dem Xenophonte genommen und mit schonen Außlegungen erkleret (Barth, ), USTC .  My emphasis. Xenophon, Xenophontis socratici rhetoris Hieron sive tyrannus, liber utilissimus his qui rempublicam administrant, Des. Erasmo Roterodamo interprete. Opus recens (Basel, ), USTC .  Xenophon, L’opere morali (Venice, ), USTC . On rare occasions, I have simply had to guess whether a book contains histories or not: for example, Xenophon, Selecta quaedam e Xenophontis operibus (Rome, ), STC , the only extant copies of which are held in Italian libraries I have not yet been able to visit.  Peter Burke, ‘Translating histories’, in Peter Burke and R. Po-chia Hsia, eds., Cultural translation in early modern Europe (Cambridge, ), pp. –; see also Carlotta Dionisotti, ‘Les chapitres entre l’historiographie et le roman’, in Jean-Claude Fredouille, Marie-Odile Goulet-Cazé, Philippe Hoffmann, and Pierre Petitmengin, with Simone Deléani, eds., Titres et P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core texts ‘by’ the ancient authors, and texts derived from their works but so substan- tially different as to be wholly new texts in their own right, without close reading of each individual book; even then, given the differences in our understanding of originality, creativity, and plagiarism compared with the norms of early modern Europe, it is possible to make credible cases for a judgement either way. I have generally erred on the side of generosity when choosing what to count, allowing the advertised author to determine inclusion or exclusion where my own reading has been inconclusive. I have omitted works that, although they resemble the histories of an ancient author, claim to be innova- tive works by medieval or early modern scholars, but I have included books advertised as commentaries or notes on particular authors, in which large sec- tions of those authors’ histories are included, and collections of excerpts in which parts of multiple texts have been combined. Thus, I have counted books like Le tresor des vies de Plutarque (Antwerp, ); compiled from several of Plutarch’s works, including the Apophthegms, it contains much histor- ical material from the Lives. I have cast my net widely when searching for authors whose works circulated under multiple names, in line with predomin- ant fifteenth- and sixteenth-century belief: Josephus’s histories existed in several versions, for example, the provenance of which was often misrepre- sented in the early modern period, and I have thus included books ascribed to Hegesippus and Ben Gorion as works by Josephus. I have not, however, articulations du texte dans les oeuvres antiques: actes du colloque international de Chantilly, – décembre  (Paris, ), pp. –; Tania Demetriou and Rowan Tomlinson, eds., The culture of translation in early modern England and France, – (Basingstoke, ).  As explained above, n. , I have examined as many of the full texts as I have been able to access, but not yet the entire sample.  Plutarch, Le tresor des vies de Plutarque, contenant les beaux dicts & faits, sentences notables, responses, apophthegmes, & harangues des Empereurs, Roys, Ambassadeurs & Capitaines, tant Grecs que Romains: aussi des philosophes & gens sçauans (Antwerp, ), USTC .  Works by pseudo-Josephus, widely believed to be authentic in the medieval and early modern tradition, include the book of Josippon, attributed to ‘Joseph Ben-Gorion’. This was the so-called ‘Hebrew’ version of Josephus, drawing on Jewish sources for the period other than Apocrypha and Josephus. See Irina Wandrey, ‘Jossipon’ [sic], in Brill’s New Pauly Online, http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/brill-s-new-pauly/jossipon-e; see also Abraham A. Neuman, ‘Josippon and the Apocrypha’, Jewish Quarterly Review,  (), pp. –. Anthony Grafton and Joanna Weinberg, I have always loved the Holy Tongue: Isaac Casaubon, the Jews, and a forgotten chapter in Renaissance scholarship (Cambridge, MA, ), pp. –, discuss Joseph Scaliger’s and Casaubon’s appreciation of the difference between the historical Josephus and the Josippon, a distinction not commonly made by six- teenth-century readers. A fourth-century AD Latin reduction or ‘free translation’ of the Jewish wars, the so-called Latin Hegesippus, was also popular in early modern Europe, and elided with Josephus: see Louis H. Feldman, ‘Flavius Josephus revisited: the man, his writings, and his significance’, in Hildegard Temporini and Wolfgang Haase, eds., Aufstieg und Niedergang der römischen Welt: Geschichte und Kultur Roms im Spiegel der neueren Forschung, Teil , Band , Halbband  (Berlin, ), pp. –; and Albert A. Bell, Jr, ‘Josephus and pseudo- Hegesippus’, in Louis H. Feldman and Gohei Hata, eds., Josephus, Judaism, and Christianity (Detroit, MI, ), pp. –.  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/brill-s-new-pauly/jossipon-e526760 http://referenceworks.brillonline.com/entries/brill-s-new-pauly/jossipon-e526760 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core included the Discorsi by Macchiavelli or Ciccarelli on Livy as a form of Livy’s history; numerous of Plutarch’s other extant essays, for example the piece on the fortune of the Romans, might also be deemed historical, but I have not included them here. Neither have I included books whose titles contain only vague references to miscellaneous material drawn from the ancient historians, like Sebastiano Corradi’s Sebastiani corradi egnatius, sive quaestura, cuius praecipva capita haec sunt: M. T. Ciceronis vita undique collecta, & defensa. Multa è Plutarcho, caeterisque Graecis conversa; although the book contains arguments and quota- tions from Plutarch, some of which are historical in nature, these have been woven together in such a way that they constitute a wholly new work. In summary: I have attempted to locate all the books advertised to the market as containing the historical works of the ancient historians in substantial form, books in which readers might access their historical works and thereby learn about the Greek and Roman past, distinguishing these from medieval or early modern works. The numbers of works of the ancient historians that follow are the numbers of the books advertised by their titles as being those in which readers could read a version of an historical text by a particular author. I I I The USTC is a revolutionary resource, the scope, ambition, and execution of which must always command great admiration. It is not, however, without a few challenges for the user. It will always be preferable to consult a copy of the original book, especially where the catalogue is vague, but this has not been practicable in each and every case, so the constraints of the database and the necessarily limited information it provides have sometimes determined the choices I have made. For example, it is difficult, from the information visible to a USTC user, to distinguish between some works. A book by Xenophon with the short title Cyrus might refer to the Expedition or the Education, or both, but users of the USTC will be unable to determine the exact content without reference to the book itself. Nor can one always tell a text from a commentary on that text from the search results; the USTC does not differentiate between the two with any discernible regularity. Then there are the occasional errors inevitable in a project of such great size, and with so many contributors. Where early modern authors used names similar to those of ancient authors, some mistakes have arisen in a few entries. Some Swiss texts listed as the work of Julius Caesar Scaliger are in fact by Gaius Julius Caesar; some entries, which have short titles advertising particular works  My emphasis. Sebastiano Corradi, Sebastiani corradi egnatius, sive quaestura, cuius praecipva capita haec sunt: M. T. Ciceronis vita undique collecta, & defensa. Multa è Plutarcho, caeterisque Graecis conversa (Basel ), USTC .  See also above nn. , .  Rerum a se gestarum commentaria (Geneva, ), USTC ; De bello gallicao commetarii VII (Geneva, ), USTC . P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core within them, do not in fact contain those works; but these instances are admir- ably few, and I have corrected for them. Equally problematic are the occasions on which the information one expects from the USTC is missing. This particularly applies to language and format. The language of the title is sometimes the only clue available as to the language in which the text is printed, which may mean that Greek texts, in particular, are under-represented. Then, for example, no size is given for the edition of Suetonius’s Twelve Caesars published in Madrid in . Sometimes, recourse to the hard copies of the various catalogues of which the USTC is comprised provides an answer, for French, Iberian, or Netherlandish books. For books from the Holy Roman Empire, the Swiss Confederation, and the Italian states, the entries in the online bibliographies VD , GLN –, and EDIT , to which the USTC provides a link, usually supply the missing details, as well as other valuable information, but this is only helpful for books produced in the areas those resources cover, and certain details are not recorded in any of these catalogues. Some questions can arise over authorship. The fardle of facions (London, ) contains a ‘Treatise of Josephus, conteyning the ordres, and Lawes of the Jewes commune wealth’; this is returned under an author search for ‘Josephus’, but the author field visible to the user is blank. The identity of ‘secondary authors’ causes more confusion. These are listed, separated by commas, with rather erratic capitalization, making it initially unclear to whom the entry refers, or even whether it is one person with more than one name, or multiple individuals. Thus, for example, one secondary author listing appears as ‘dio- dorus, crusius, martin’, signifying that both Diodorus (Siculus) and Martin Crusius are secondary authors; another, ‘diodorus, gambrivius’, denotes Gambrivius Diodorus, and is nothing to do with Diodorus Siculus; and the order in which multiple parts of a name are listed is not always consistent. It should be noted that not all the contributing authors are listed by the USTC as secondary authors; this makes it difficult to see from the USTC which works a book actually contains. For example, a search for ‘Suetonius’ as author returns nine hits under Aurelius Victor, suggesting that something by Suetonius is contained within each of these nine books, but the individual entries for each book do not list Suetonius as a secondary author. An edition  Suetonius, Vida de los doce cesares (Madrid, ), USTC .  Pettegree, Walsby, and Wilkinson, eds., French vernacular books; Andrew Pettegree and Malcolm Walsby, eds., Netherlandish books: books published in the Low Countries and Dutch books printed abroad before  ( vols., Leiden, ); Alexander Wilkinson, Iberian books: books pub- lished in Spanish or Portuguese or on the Iberian Peninsula before  (Leiden, ); Andrew Pettegree and Malcolm Walsby, eds., French books: books published in France before  in Latin and languages other than French ( vols. Leiden, ).  Homepages for the three bibliographies may be found at: www.gateway-bayern.de; www. ville-ge.ch; www.edit.iccu.sbn.it.  Josephus, The fardle of facions (London, ), USTC .  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core http://www.gateway-bayern.de http://www.ville-ge.ch http://www.ville-ge.ch http://www.edit16.iccu.sbn.it https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core attributed to Aurelius Victor, published in Paris in , and entitled De viris illustribus liber. De Claris grammaticis et rhetoribus liber. Prodigiorum liber imperfectus lists Julius Obsequens as the secondary author, although the De Claris grammati- cis is by Suetonius. The Historia Augusta presents a particular problem: some- times, some authors are named as contributors, when they have been listed on the title page – Plutarch, Suetonius, Dio, and Tacitus, for example – but other times they are not, and appear simply as the ‘authors of the Historia Augusta’. The contents of the database behind the USTC website will inevit- ably be fuller than the information presented to the user, but the lack of details like these does present a challenge. The USTC’s commitment to contextual accuracy creates further difficulties, especially where the names by which authors are commonly known vary across Europe. Authors are listed under the names by which they were known in the early modern period; an anglophone user looking for books by Livy must there- fore search for ‘Livius’ instead. This is, on the whole, not a problem for anyone familiar with early modern classical culture; but the user must also search for authors by their vernacular tags in order to be sure that they recover the full range of titles. A search for ‘Sallustius’ will return all works by Gaius Sallustius Crispus except those printed in England, which can only be found by searching for ‘Sallust’. The search for ‘Sallustius’ will also reveal that Sallust is variously given the praenomen ‘Gaius’ or ‘Caius’; the same is true of Julius Caesar, and similar issues apply to Josephus, Cassius Dio, and Eutropius. Each variant is listed as a separate entity in the ‘author’ section of the results page, and a search for one will not give results associated with the other, which is to say the USTC has not standardized or unified its entries. Again, this does not represent a problem for those familiar with all variant forms of an author’s name, or skilled in Boolean, truncation, and wildcard searching, but it is a trap into which the unwary user may easily fall. In order to return all the works by an author within the USTC, it is therefore necessary to search for all possible variant forms of all parts of their name, in all languages. It is also necessary to repeat this search using the names as ‘key- words’ instead, as an editor is sometimes listed as the author, with the ancient historian’s name appearing only in the short title. And, of course, with Latin spelling, different vernacular names for authors, a lack of orthographical uni- formity, and the ever-present possibility of printing errors, the user must also search for all likely forms, spelling variants, and possible mistakes: Svetonii as well as Suetonius, Senophonte as well as Xenophon, and so on. What does this mean for statistical analyses using the USTC? First and fore- most, it means that it is not possible to use the features that seem, at first, to promise a very quick route to statistical success. Each search is automatically  Aurelius Victor, De viris illustribus liber. De Claris grammaticis et rhetoribus liber. Prodigiorum liber imperfectus (Paris, ), USTC .  USTC  is one example where several authors are named. P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core sorted, and the user is given the number of books in each language, each format, by each author, and so on; but given the high number of multiple, inde- pendent searches that must be undertaken to arrive at all possible books con- taining work by a particular author, these tallies are effectively useless. The individual checks that must also be performed for each individual book returned in a search, and the subjective critical judgement that must be exer- cised to determine whether a book ‘counts’ or not, further renders the analysis subjective and, ultimately, irreproducible to  per cent accuracy. A statistical study deriving its data from the USTC is therefore not a scientific experiment that can be repeated, by anyone following the same method, to achieve identical results. I do believe, though, that it could be repeated to deliver results that would not, in their essentials, differ substantively from those given here. I V In his article of , Peter Burke produced the following table of results – Table  – showing the number of editions for his chosen ancient historians and their works, to the end of the seventeenth century. Since I have used the USTC, which only currently comprehensively catalogues books produced up to, and including, the year  for the whole continent, these figures cannot be used to make a direct comparison with my own. However, a subse- quent table in Burke’s article demonstrates the number of editions produced in each fifty-year period, starting with  to . Burke’s totals for the number of editions published to , arranged from most- to least-frequently printed, are shown in Table ; the order of popularity is not identical with that of the years  to  as a whole, but it is not dissimilar. Table  presents the results of my survey of the works of the ancient histor- ians, in order of most- to least-frequently printed, according to the method out- lined above. A direct comparison of my figures with those of Burke, arranged in Burke’s order of popularity, is seen in Figure . From this comparison, a few points are immediately apparent: . Far more books containing the works of all the ancient historians were printed in the period  to  than has previously been acknowledged. . The relative order of popularity posited by Burke is not borne out by evi- dence in the USTC. . The popularity of several authors has, until now, been greatly underesti- mated: this is particularly true of Plutarch and Josephus. In order to offer more useful, critical suggestions about the relative popularity of particular authors, Burke provides an assessment of the shifts in their popu- larity, in fifty-year periods. I have done the same, to , in Table , presenting the authors in order of most- to least-frequently printed in each period.  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core Understanding how frequently authors were printed within half a century is useful in determining broad trends in rising or decreasing popularity, but it is rather a vague measure of assessing change; the Europe of the s was, after all, dramatically different, politically and religiously, from the Europe of the early s. A rolling two- or three-year analysis is probably preferable in order to discern any correlation between significant political events and an increase in the printing of a particular ancient historian, but it is not easily dis- played on the printed page; I have therefore chosen to present my results by decade, to allow a slightly closer comparison between printing frequency, and historical changes, shown in Table  and Figure . The languages in which histories were printed was also of interest to Burke, who compared the number of vernacular editions with editions printed in Latin and ancient Greek in order to make arguments about likely readers. I have performed a similar comparison – Table  – adding an indication of the proportion of books circulating in the vernacular. Table  Burke’s findings, – Sallust Catiline  Sallust Jugurtha  Valerius Words and deeds  Caesar Commentaries  Curtius Alexander  Tacitus Germany  Livy Decades  Suetonius Twelve Caesars  Tacitus Annals and histories  Florus Epitome  Josephus Antiquities  Josephus Jewish war  Plutarch Parallel lives  Xenophon Cyrus  Herodotus History  Thucydides Peloponnesian war  Eutropius Compendium  Polybius Histories  Xenophon Expedition  Diodorus Historical library  Dio Roman history  Source: Burke, ‘The popularity of ancient historians’, p. .  Burke, ‘The popularity of ancient historians’, p. . P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core Burke then listed the top three vernacular languages for each author. The USTC indicates that these languages are almost invariably French, followed by Italian, with English, Spanish, Dutch, or German some way behind in third place, so I have not produced a table of these results. Not only are the vernaculars other than French and Italian represented in such small numbers as to render a comparison unhelpful, but the even more infrequent and interesting instances of translation into one of the eastern European languages, for example, will not be represented in such a table. Figure  therefore shows when a vernacular edition of part of an historian’s work first becomes available for the first time. Translations into various vernacular languages were produced from the s on, but it was from the s that such translation began to occur in sub- stantial quantities. The publication of ancient historians most popular in the European vernaculars is shown in Table . Although some authors were printed often in German, Spanish, or English, the majority of vernacular trans- lations were into French and Italian. The distribution of French and Italian Table  Burke’s findings, – Sallust Catiline; Jugurthaa ;  Valerius Words and deeds  Caesar Commentaries  Livy Decades  Suetonius Twelve Caesars  Curtius Alexander  Tacitus Germany; Annals and histories ;  Florus Epitome  Plutarch Parallel lives  Josephus Jewish war; Antiquities ;  Xenophon Cyrus; Expedition ;  Thucydides Peloponnesian war  Herodotus History  Polybius Histories  Dio Roman history  Diodorus Historical library  Eutropius Compendium ? b a I have chosen to present Burke’s entries with multiple texts by an author com- bined in the table, so that each author appears only once, and a comparison with my own results is clearer. b Eutropius does not feature in any of Burke’s tables other than Table . Source: Derived from Burke, ‘Popularity of the ancient historians’, p. .  The exceptions are Livy, Florus, Curtius, and Josephus. Livy was printed  times in German, compared with  in Italian, and  in French. Florus was printed  times in  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core books most frequently printed in the vernacular, from the s, may be seen in Figure . The French enthusiasm for printing in the vernacular, and for trans- lating into French, is well known, and amply supported by this evidence, while the Italian example perhaps demonstrates the legacies of the earlier Renaissance, now extended to wider audiences through the harnessing of Table  My findings, – Sallust  Livy  Plutarch  Valerius  Josephus  Caesar  Suetonius  Florus  Tacitus  Xenophon  Curtius  Thucydides  Herodotus  Diodorus  Eutropius  Dio  Polybius  Note: A comparison of data for the authors for whom Burke counted two texts is necessarily problematic, as I have simply counted books of histories by those authors (Sallust, Tacitus, Josephus, and Xenophon). Without repeating Burke’s ori- ginal research – an impractical and unfruitful exercise – it is not possible to tell which work is contained in which book in his survey. Adding the totals together to arrive at a sum for these authors certainly does not represent an accurate total of their works in print: many books contain both histories, and, indeed, my research using the USTC suggests that, if an author wrote more than one history, very nearly all – or at least, far more than half – of the books by that author contain all his histories. For the sake of a moderately useful comparison in graphical form, I have simply taken then mean of the two figures given by Burke. The ‘Burke’ number on the figure is therefore not an accurate reflection of the number of edi- tions, but a nominal average, for illustrative purposes. German,  in Italian, and  in French. Curtius was not printed in German, compared with  times in French,  in Italian, and  in English. Josephus was printed  times in German, com- pared with  in Italian, and  in French. P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core print technology; both cases also reflect the cultural appropriate of the classics as part of the strengthening of various identities in the face of confessional and territorial conflict, division, and expansion. The intended purposes of these translations from the classics, and their effects, are beyond the scope of the present survey, but speak to a wide range of scholarly investigations into the rela- tionship between vernacular translation and cultural exchange, the processes of Renaissance and Reformation, and the coalescence of linguistic and national identities throughout the early modern period, and will doubtless repay closer investigation. V This study has, from the outset, sought to engage with Peter Burke’s  ‘Survey’ in order to provide an updated set of data useful to scholars interested in the printing and publishing of the ancient historians in early modern Fig. . Comparison of Burke and Cox Jensen, –.  Alexander S. Wilkinson, ‘Vernacular translation in Renaissance France, Spain, Portugal and Britain: a comparative survey’, Renaissance Studies,  (), pp. –; Outi Merisalo, ‘Translating the classics into the vernacular in sixteenth-century Italy’, Renaissance Studies,  (), pp. –.  Leigh Oakes, Language and national identity: comparing France and Sweden (Amsterdam, ), p. ; Stephen J. Campbell and Stephen J. Milner, eds., Artistic exchange and cultural trans- lation in the Italian Renaissance city (Cambridge, ), pp. –.  A. Rizzi, Vernacular translators in Quattrocento Italy: scribal cultural, authority, and agency (Turnhout, ); Lucia Binotti, ‘Cultural identity and ideologies of translation in sixteenth- century Europe’, History of European Ideas,  (), pp. –, at pp. –; Paola Gambarota, Irresistible signs: the genius of language and Italian national identity (Toronto, ON, ), pp. , –.  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core Table  Number of books produced in each fifty-year period – – – Sallust  Sallust  Plutarch  Valerius  Livy  Josephus  Livy  Valerius  Livy  Suetonius  Suetonius  Caesar  Plutarch  Caesar  Sallust  Florus  Josephus  Tacitus  Caesar  Plutarch  Valerius  Josephus  Florus  Xenophon  Curtius  Curtius  Florus  Tacitus  Xenophon  Suetonius  Diodorus  Tacitus  Curtius  Herodotus  Diodorus  Thucydides  Eutropius  Thucydides  Herodotus  Xenophon  Polybius  Dio  Polybius  Herodotus  Eutropius  Thucydides  Eutropius  Diodorus  Dio  Dio  Polybius  Note: Some books are undated; while it is possible to estimate which fifty-year period many of these fall into, it is not always the case, especially without seeing or handling the books. It has not been possible to date three editions of Livy, one of Florus, three of Valerius Maximus, and one of Caesar.    P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0018246X17000395 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re. C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity, o n 06 A p r 2021 at 01:07:15, su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core Table  Number of books printed in each decade – – – – – – – Caesar  Sallust  Valerius  Sallust  Sallust  Sallust  Sallust  Livy  Valerius  Sallust  Plutarch  Valerius  Valerius  Valerius  Curtius  Suetonius  Livy  Valerius  Livy  Livy  Livy  Dio  Florus  Caesar  Suetonius  Florus  Florus  Suetonius  Diodorus  Livy  Florus  Livy  Suetonius  Suetonius  Josephus  Eutropius  Plutarch  Josephus  Florus  Curtius  Plutarch  Plutarch  Florus  Caesar  Suetonius  Caesar  Plutarch  Caesar  Caesar  Herodotus  Josephus  Curtius  Curtius  Caesar  Josephus  Florus  Josephus  Curtius  Plutarch  Josephus  Diodorus  Diodorus  Xenophon  Plutarch  Tacitus  Diodorus  Diodorus  Xenophon  Tacitus  Thucydides  Polybius  Diodorus  Eutropius  Herodotus  Tacitus  Eutropius  Herodotus  Sallust  Herodotus  Tacitus  Tacitus  Josephus  Curtius  Curtius  Suetonius  Eutropius  Thucydides  Dio  Dio  Dio  Polybius  Tacitus  Polybius  Dio  Eutropius  Herodotus  Polybius  Tacitus  Thucydides  Xenophon  Herodotus  Polybius  Polybius  Xenophon  Eutropius  Valerius  Dio  Polybius  Xenophon  Thucydides  Herodotus  Dio  Xenophon  Thucydides  Xenophon  Thucydides  Eutropius  Thucydides  Diodorus  – – – – – – – Livy  Livy  Josephus  Plutarch  Plutarch  Plutarch  Tacitus  Sallust  Suetonius  Livy  Sallust  Caesar  Tacitus  Plutarch  Caesar  Sallust  Plutarch  Josephus  Josephus  Livy  Josephus  Josephus  Caesar  Caesar  Livy  Xenophon  Sallust  Livy     F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0018246X17000395 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re. C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity, o n 06 A p r 2021 at 01:07:15, su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core Valerius  Valerius  Sallust  Valerius  Livy  Caesar  Sallust  Suetonius  Plutarch  Xenophon  Caesar  Sallust  Josephus  Caesar  Plutarch  Josephus  Valerius  Suetonius  Valerius  Valerius  Suetonius  Curtius  Curtius  Suetonius  Xenophon  Florus  Florus  Florus  Herodotus  Florus  Florus  Florus  Suetonius  Xenophon  Xenophon  Tacitus  Xenophon  Curtius  Thucydides  Tacitus  Curtius  Valerius  Florus  Polybius  Thucydides  Eutropius  Curtius  Herodotus  Dio  Thucydides  Dio  Herodotus  Dio  Herodotus  Thucydides  Curtius  Xenophon  Eutropius  Dio  Herodotus  Diodorus  Diodorus  Thucydides  Diodorus  Tacitus  Polybius  Polybius  Polybius  Eutropius  Herodotus  Polybius  Thucydides  Diodorus  Tacitus  Dio  Suetonius  Eutropius  Eutropius  Diodorus  Tacitus  Curtius  Eutropius  Dio  Polybius  Dio  Herodotus  Eutropius  Diodorus  Thucydides  Polybius  Diodorus  Note: Slightly fewer books are represented here, compared with Table , as there are a few that it has not been possible to date to a particular decade.    P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0018246X17000395 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re. C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity, o n 06 A p r 2021 at 01:07:15, su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core Europe. It also serves as an example of the kind of work that digital resources like the USTC make possible, together with the advantages and challenges they pose. The exposition of similarities with and differences from Burke’s findings is intended to facilitate a reappraisal of existing historiographical asser- tions and assumptions, and to provide an improved (if not wholly perfect) foun- dation for the field. To explore in detail the various implications of the new data compared with the old would take far more space than is available here, and requires sustained, critical analysis of numerous books, authors, and nations; I have therefore, like Peter Burke before me, confined myself to a brief discussion of the chief points arising, in the hope that others will use this as a starting point for further investigation. The primary conclusion to be drawn from the results above is that the volume of the trade in ancient histories is far larger than the traditional bibliographies allow. More books containing the works of the ancient historians were pro- duced than has previously been thought; there were therefore more books con- taining ancient history available, and more men and women in early modern Europe had the opportunity to engage with them. Several thousand editions of the ancient historians were printed and disseminated across the continent, each amounting to at least several hundred copies. Although they do not compete with the writing of the major religious Reformers, for example, nor Fig. . Number of books printed in each decade, for the six most-printed authors.  It is unprofitable to re-enter the debate about the total number of copies in circulation here. Estimates of average print runs in the early modern period seem to converge on , as a plausible number: see above, n. . See also Burke, ‘The popularity of ancient historians’, p. , where, citing Renouard’s  Bibliography of Josse Badius, he notes that an edition of Thucydides printed in French in  ran to , copies.  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core Table  Number of books in the vernacular compared with Latin/Greek Ancient languages Vernacular Unclear Total % of total in the vernaculara Sallust   –   Livy      Plutarch   –   Valerius   –   Josephus   –   Caesar      Suetonius      Florus   –   Tacitus   –   Xenophon   –   Curtius   –   Thucydides   –   Herodotus   –   Diodorus   –   Eutropius   –   Dio   –   Polybius   –   a To the nearest whole number. Given the error margin contained in the data, it should be borne in mind that the percentages should only be taken as a rough indication of the proportion translated into the vernacular, especially for the less frequently printed authors, where one edition more or less would necessarily change the percentage by a greater degree. The same is true for Table .    P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S term s o f u se, availab le at h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re/term s. h ttp s://d o i.o rg /10.1017/S0018246X17000395 D o w n lo ad ed fro m h ttp s://w w w .cam b rid g e.o rg /co re. C arn eg ie M ello n U n iversity, o n 06 A p r 2021 at 01:07:15, su b ject to th e C am b rid g e C o re https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core Table  The six ancient historians most popular in European vernaculars No. in vernacular % in vernacular Josephus   Plutarch   Thucydides   Xenophon   Livy   Caesar   Note: I have selected those whose works appeared in more than thirty vernacular books in the period to , and of whose works more than one third were printed in the vernacular. This is the assumed market share in the vernacular; since an edition size is always uncertain, it does not represent the actual market share. Fig. . First vernacular edition of each author, in each language. Note: I have counted books containing all or part of an author’s history or histories, therefore this is what is represented in this figure. It does not, therefore, necessarily show the better- known first editions of whole works, or collected works, such as North’s translation of Plutarch’s Lives into English (London, ), USTC  and .  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core with the most popular classical poets, the texts of the ancient historians circu- lated in substantial quantities in the early modern world. The five most frequently printed ancient historians of the later fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were Sallust, Livy, Plutarch, Valerius Maximus, and Josephus. Caesar and Suetonius, previously thought to be the third and fifth most-printed authors respectively, are now shown to have been the sixth and seventh most ‘popular’; significant and important, but not printed as frequently as Plutarch and Josephus. This indicates a very different picture of the taste for, and function of, ancient history in the first fourteen decades of print, from that suggested by Burke and assumed, until now, to be the case: Fig. . Number of books in French and Italian vernaculars, from .  I have not collected evidence for other authors as carefully as for the ancient historians, but a brief search in the USTC indicates that there were perhaps , editions of Ovid pro- duced to , and a similar number of Vergil; there were almost , editions of works by Martin Luther, some , by Melanchthon, approximately , by Erasmus, and nearly  by Calvin. P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core It will be noted that arranged in order of popularity, as measured by the number of editions, almost all the Roman historians are ahead of all the Greeks; the only excep- tion is Eutropius. They are so far ahead that (Eutropius apart) the least popular of the Romans, Florus, is just over twice as popular as the most popular Greek history, the Antiquities of Josephus. In other words, we have here an example of the general rule that the Renaissance was predominantly the rebirth of Roman antiquity, not of Greek. It is no longer possible to argue that the ‘Greek’ historians were less popular than the Romans; the popularity of Plutarch and Josephus conclusively dis- proves it. But the labelling of the historians as ‘Greek’ and ‘Roman’ is itself problematic. Burke apparently uses the term to refer to the languages in which the historians wrote, but given the increasing prominence of vernacular translations of the period, the difficulties of printing in Greek, and the fact that the ancient histories written in Greek were more usually printed in Latin translation, the definition is not always useful. It would seem reasonable, given the preoccupation with Rome, rather than Greece, as a model for Renaissance politics and mores, to assume that Roman subject matter would be more popular than Greek content, yet this is not the distinction Burke draws. Across the whole cohort of ancient historians, Roman subject matter is generally more popular than Greek: Sallust, Livy, Caesar, along with other historians of Rome, are more popular than Xenophon, Herodotus, and Thucydides and the other historians of Greece. Once again, Plutarch and Josephus are anomalous; the extent to which their his- tories are ‘Roman’ is debatable. Plutarch’s biographies certainly include prom- inent Roman figures, but each Roman life is paired with a Greek. There is no way to determine if Plutarch’s Roman or Greek characters were generally of greater interest to the majority of readers; nor do the collections of smaller selections of the lives, published separately rather than as a complete work, provide any clue. Josephus’s Jewish antiquities and Jewish war describe aspects of the Roman empire, but it is far from clear that early modern readers used Josephus as a source of specifically Roman history. Much of the existing evi- dence points to Josephus’s popularity arising from the value the texts held for Christianity across the confessional divide. To think of Josephus as an  Burke, ‘The popularity of ancient historians’, p. .  See Robert Proctor, The printing of Greek in the fifteenth century (Oxford, ); Nicholas Barker, Aldus Manutius and the development of Greek script and type (nd edn, New York, NY, ).  For example, Cassius Dio: of the  books printed in the ancient languages by the end of the sixteenth century,  were in Latin, with the remaining  in bilingual Greek–Latin editions. The first edition containing the Greek text was not published until  (USTC ), by which time  Latin books had been printed, along with  Italian translations, and  in French.  Rene Bloch, ‘Iosephus Flavius (Flavius Josephus), Bellum Iudaicum’, in Christine Walde and Brigitte Egger, eds., The reception of classical literature, Brill’s New Pauly Supplements (th edn, Leiden, ), p. ; Pauline M. Smith, ‘The reception and influence of Josephus’ Jewish war in the late French Renaissance, with special reference to the Satyre Menippée’, Renaissance Studies,  (), pp. –, at p. . On the connection between  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core ancient historian qualitatively similar to non-Judaeo-Christian authors is perhaps somewhat misleading, or at the very least only captures part of his appeal for an early modern audience. Some changes in popularity may be observed over the years to . Among the authors most popular during the period as a whole, the relative popularity of Livy decreased slightly over the period, as did that of Sallust, while the relative popularity of Caesar increased a little, and Plutarch and Josephus increased greatly in popularity in the second half of the sixteenth century. Among the lesser authors, the popularity of Xenophon increased substantially, with a par- ticular focus on printing in the years  to , while Curtius became slightly less popular by the end of the period, compared with the early years of the sixteenth century. The prominence of Tacitus in the final decades of the sixteenth century is, of course, well documented. Is it hard to discern with any certainty the implication of these trends in pub- lication. An increase in the number of books produced seems relatively straight- forward: it represents an increase – or perceived increase – in demand for the work of that particular author, in some form, or it represents an increase in the size of the market. This might mean that the author was becoming more popular among a relatively stable group of people, or it might indicate a growth in the number of people buying books of ancient history. We know that literacy increased over the sixteenth century, as did education, and in many parts of Europe there was an improvement in the living standards of the ‘middling’ sort of people, all of which increased the number of people able to afford and read books of history. The number of books produced in each half-century shows a general rise in the number of editions of the ancient authors as a group, over the period; any arguments for an increase in popularity based on an increase in the number of editions produced must therefore also take account of the general trend towards greater book production. Christianity and Judaism in early modern Europe more generally, see Richard H. Popkin, ‘Christian Jews and Jewish Christians in the seventeenth century’, in Richard H. Popkin and Gordon M. Weiner, eds., Jewish Christians and Christian Jews from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment (Dordrecht, ), pp. –.  See Jan Waszink’s introduction in his translation of Justus Lipsius, Politica: six books of pol- itics or political instruction (Assen, ); also Kenneth C. Schellhase, Tacitus in Renaissance polit- ical thought (Chicago, IL, and London, ); Peter Burke, ‘Tacitism, scepticism, and reason of state’, in J. H. Burns and M. Goldie, eds., The Cambridge history of political thought, – (Cambridge, ), pp. –.  R. A. Houston, Literacy in early modern Europe: culture and education, – (nd edn, Harlow, ), pp. –, –. See also Margaret Jacob and Catherine Secretan, eds., ‘Introduction’, in their In praise of ordinary people: early modern Britain and the Dutch Republic (Basingstoke, ), pp. –; Maarten Prak, ed., ‘Introduction’, in his Early modern capitalism: economic and social change in Europe, – (London, ), pp. –; Peter Burke, ‘The language of orders in early modern Europe’, in M. L. Bush, ed., Social orders and social classes in Europe since : studies in social stratification (London, ), pp. –. P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core A decline in the number of editions produced might appear to demonstrate a decline in popularity, but this need not necessarily be the case. If the size of the market did not grow greatly, then its demands might have been satisfied by the availability of second-hand editions entering the marketplace, after their owners died, for example. A decline in the number of editions of an author’s works might also indicate a saturation of the market: all the people who were inter- ested in owning a French copy of Xenophon and were able to do so might already have access to a copy. This seems a plausible inference to draw from some of the publishing patterns, in the vernaculars, especially: a large number of books printed in French or German in one decade was often fol- lowed by one or two decades in which few appeared in those languages, suggest- ing that the existing stock was still being sold, and there was no demand for more. In nearly all cases, there were more books containing the works of the ancient historians in the classical languages than in the vernacular. Authors whose ori- ginal Latin texts are relatively straightforward and easily digestible – Sallust, Florus, Suetonius – were printed least frequently in the vernacular, proportion- ate to their global popularity, with only  to  per cent of books appearing in translation. Nor were authors whose primary function was to supply Latin phrases for recycling often printed in translation, Valerius Maximus, in particu- lar. These are the authors who were used in schools, and who were frequently recommended for those beginning their reading of ancient history; the formal educational setting in which many of these books were being read thus goes some way to explaining the overwhelming proportion printed in Latin. The exceptions, once again, are Plutarch and Josephus, of whose works more books were printed in modern languages than in Latin translation or the ori- ginal classical Greek: these authors are the great anomalies of this survey. The other authors whose works circulate in the greatest proportion in the ver- nacular also originally wrote in Greek: Thucydides and Xenophon, Diodorus Siculus and Polybius. Given the difficulties of Greek printing, and the dispropor- tionate risks for even the most illustrious printers of producing books in Greek, a translation would make the production of such a text easier and cheaper, as well as marketable to a broader readership. The translation of Greek texts into neo-Latin formed a central part of the humanist endeavour, first in Renaissance Italy and later throughout Europe, and some vernacular  Paul F. Grendler, ‘Renaissance humanism, schools, and universities’, in his Renaissance education between religion and politics (Aldershot, ), pp. ff; Charles G. Nauert, Humanism and the culture of Renaissance Europe (nd edn, Cambridge, ), pp. –; J. H. M. Salmon, ‘Precept, example and truth: Degory Wheare and the ars historica’, in Donald R. Kelley and David Harris Sacks, eds., The historical imagination in early modern Britain: history, rhetoric and fiction, – (Cambridge, ), pp. –.  Ian Maclean, Scholarship, commerce, religion: the learned book in the age of confessions, –  (Cambridge, MA, ), p. .  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core translations were made via these scholarly intermediaries, presenting their impeccable scholarly antecedents as a unique selling point on the title page. Other vernacular editions were not, but existed alongside them, either as com- petitors or aimed at a different market, pretending less to a level of classical sophistication and erudition and instead capitalizing on the greater connection with contemporary life that a vernacular translation implied. The popularity of vernacular translations of Greek histories, and the success of Plutarch and Josephus, deserve further study, representing as they do a sign- ificant means for a growing readership to interact with the classical past. In the flourishing field of translation studies, Greek texts have attracted comparatively little attention, and the focus has been chiefly on Greek works as sources for translation into Latin, as part of the recent surge in neo-Latin scholarship, and on scientific translations. Book history studies have not often integrated translation into their analyses as deeply as they might, and it is only very recently that the full potential of the two areas to illuminate one another has begun to be realized. Just as the popularity of ancient Greek histories suggests avenues for further inquiry, so Alexander Wilkinson’s comparative survey of vernacular translation in Britain, France, and the Iberian Peninsula provides preliminary data for the investigation of the relative significance of Greek texts compared with source texts in other languages, and of histories and classical texts  Andrew Taylor, ‘The translations of Renaissance Latin’, Canadian Review of Comparative Literature,  (), pp. –, at pp. –; Margo Todd, Christian humanism and the puritan social order (Cambridge, ), p. ; Douglas Howland, ‘The predicament of ideas in culture: translation and historiography’, History and Theory,  (), pp. –, at p. ; see also Kevin Sharpe, Reading revolutions: the politics of reading in early modern England (New Haven, CT, ), p. ; Freyja Cox Jensen, Reading the Roman republic in early modern England (Leiden, ), pp. –; Paul White, ‘Marketing adaptations of the Ship of fools: the Stultiferae naves () and Navis Stultifera () of Jodocus Badius Ascensius’, in Pérez Fernández and Wilson-Lee, eds., Translation and the book trade, pp. –; Miguel Martinez, ‘The heroes in the world’s marketplace: translating and printing epic in Renaissance Antwerp’, in Pérez Fernández and Wilson-Lee, eds., Translation and the book trade, pp. –.  For example, Paul Botley, Latin translation in the Renaissance: the theory and practice of Leonardo Bruni, Giannozzo Manetti and Desiderius Erasmus (Cambridge, ); Stuart Gillespie, ‘Vernacular translations of classical and neo-Latin writings in the European renaissance: the Germanic languages’, in H. Kittel et al., eds., Übersetzung: ein internationales Handbuch zur Übersetzungsforschung, II (Berlin, ), pp. –; Timothy Kirchner, ‘Wrestling with Ulysses: humanist translations of Homeric epic around ’, in Luc Deitz, Timothy Kirchner, and Jonathan Reid, eds., Neo-Latin and the humanities: essays in honour of Charles E. Fantazzi (Toronto, ON, ), pp. –; Iolanda Ventura, ‘Translating, commenting, re- translating: some considerations on the Latin translations of the pseudo-Aristotelian problemata and their readers’, in Michèle Goyens, Pieter de Leemans, and An Smets, eds., Science translated: Latin and vernacular translations of scientific treatises in medieval Europe (Leuven, ), pp. – ; Sietske Fransen, Niall Hodson, and Karl A. E. Enenkel, eds., Translating early modern science (Leiden, ).  Most notably, Wilkinson, ‘Vernacular translation’; Pérez Fernández and Edward Wilson- Lee, eds., Translation and the book trade; Belén Bistué, Collaborative translation and multi-version texts in early modern Europe (Abingdon, ). P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core compared with other kinds of writing. Detailed assessments of the reception of the Greek historians in print across early modern Europe seem likely to elu- cidate further the complexities and instabilities of translation as a cultural prac- tice, and the role of Greek historical writing in the development of early modern society. In the case of Josephus, the religious significance of the text explains why so many vernacular books were produced; reading in the vernacular would undoubtedly emphasize the contemporary relevance of a text, and make it more accessible to a greater number of readers. Other than Plutarch’s juxtapos- ition of Greek and Roman biographies, which may perhaps have represented an ideal ‘interface’ of both ancient cultures, there is no such reason for the over- whelming popularity of Plutarch’s historical works in the vernacular, although his Moralia were similarly extremely successful, especially in France; the Lives contain some moral comment sympathetic to Christian ideas of virtue and vice, but the same can be said of other authors whose works were nowhere near as popular in the vernacular. Since French translations account for nearly  per cent of the total ‘histories’ by Plutarch in all vernaculars, it is clear that there was a special relationship between Plutarch and the French, and an especially strong market for vernacular histories more widely in France; it was the popularity of the translations of Claude de Seyssel and George de Selve in the first half of the sixteenth century, followed by the immense success of Amyot’s translation which first appeared in , that accounts for the trends in the statistics. That some French translations were made at second- or third-hand, from Latin texts that had been translated from the Greek, does not seem to have detracted from the popularity of these texts; if anything, it seems to have added an extra element to a work’s pedi- gree. French vernacular translations, then, are a special case, fulfilling a differ- ent function from other books in more ways than the merely linguistic. Translations into other vernaculars, and the ways in which these books are described and advertised on their title pages, possess a qualitatively different  Wilkinson, ‘Vernacular translation’, pp. –.  A succinct summary of the most significant theoretical approaches informing the field is provided by Brenda M. Hosington, ‘Translation and print culture in early modern Europe’, Renaissance Studies,  (), pp. –.  Taylor, ‘The translations of Renaissance Latin’, p. .  On Seyssel’s translations and their intended function, see Rebecca Ard Boone, War, dom- ination, and the monarchy of France: Claude de Seyssel and the language of politics in the Renaissance (Leiden, ), pp. –; for an overview of Plutarch’s Lives in sixteenth-century France, see Alain Billault, ‘Plutarch’s Lives’, in Gerald N. Sandy, ed., The classical heritage in France (Leiden, ), pp. –, as well as the works of Aulotte, for example, R. Aulotte, Amyot et Plutarque (Geneva, ); see also Francoise Frazier, ‘Amyot traducteur des oeuvres morales’, in Francoise Frazier and Olivier Guerrier, eds., Plutarque: éditions, traductions, paratextes (Coimbra, ), pp. –.  James Hankins, Humanism and Platonism in the Italian Renaissance, I (Rome, ), pp. –.  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core character. This is sometimes true, too, of Latin books produced in particular cities; the Italian books, for example, differ in nature from those produced else- where. Is this a product of the southern, rather than the northern, Renaissance, and particular networks of producers? Are the differences in printing fashions the result of trade conditions and practices, or reflective of two, or more, tradi- tions of scholarship and culture in Europe? There are certainly correlations between the editors of particular editions, and the location of printing, and it is likely that other distinctive characteristics of the physical books produced in certain places might be instructive as to regional variations not only in taste or in printing traditions, but also in reading practices. Burke uses translators’ assertions in their prefaces to infer an expected audi- ence for a particular work; he also assumes that translators and their readers will share similar backgrounds and interests. And he believes that there is a differ- ence between vernacular and ancient-language editions, and the people reading them are not the same: If Curtius and Tacitus rise in popularity at the same time, this does not necessarily mean that they rise in popularity with the same people. A preliminary hypothesis is that those who read the books in Latin or Greek (usually in Latin) will be found to have had different tastes from those who read the books in vernacular translations. So it turns out. I have implied above that this is partially true, but it is not possible to prove it; nor do I think it is always the case. A closer analysis of the physical nature of the various books is necessary in order to be able to estimate the likely cost of par- ticular editions, and therefore their likely consumer. In order to determine whether the ancient histories functioned in similar ways, in different vernacular translations, the nature or quality of the books must be known. The s saw the production of eight books of Josephus in the French language, for example, three in folio, and the rest in octavo; the s also saw fifteen books of Josephus printed in German, of which only the first, printed in , was in octavo. The rest, printed consistently throughout the decade, were folio edi- tions, and were thus certainly intended for a different purpose, which is to say a different market, from the French octavo translations. As the sixteenth century progressed and education improved, a greater number of people were able to read, both in Latin and the vernacular, and only in the vernacular. More people could read in the vernacular than could read Latin and Greek, and vernacular editions were undoubtedly accessible to more people than ori- ginal-language editions. However, vernacular editions also provided a ‘short cut’ to classical learning for those who possessed reading ability in Latin and Greek, but for whatever reason chose to read in their native language. Once  Burke, ‘The popularity of ancient historians’, p. .  Ibid., p. .  Houston, Literacy in early modern Europe, passim. P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core a man left formal education, his need to use Latin on a daily basis lessened, as daily life was conducted in the vernacular; vernacular editions thus represented an easier way to consume the classics, more similar to the daily practices of most people. Moreover, there are other reasons why vernacular editions might be preferable, even among an audience more than capable of reading in Latin or Greek: reasons of status or fashion, reasons to do with prestige and being seen to own a culturally significant or relevant book, and the creation of national literatures. In the absence of any convincing method by which to survey comprehensively the reading and reception of ancient histories, the study of the marketing of these books, and thus of the publishers’ perception of their likely or intended reception, is a useful alternative. Individual case-studies of particular readers at certain moments in time can shed valuable light on the practices of extraordin- ary or identifiable men and women, but it is only through examining the pro- duction of these books that we can begin to generalize. Many features of the physical nature of a book are the result of decisions that would now be thought of as product design and marketing, including the content, phrasing, and layout of the title page, and the size and quality of a book. Burke’s survey discusses the reputation of several ancient historians in a series of case- studies, in order to determine why certain authors enjoyed the popularity they did, or why they failed to attain greater significance. Much work has been done since then on the place of particular ancient historians in early modern Europe, but so far, less attention has been paid to the way that the repu- tations of individual authors were constructed by, and reflected in, the physical attributes of the books in which their works appeared. The use of print tech- nology to disseminate a particular version of history marks the point at which marketing becomes visible, as a tool for selling the new product. The appear- ance of a text, or edition of a text, in printed form rather than as a scribal pub- lication, is the first time it is offered to a true mass market, and the first time a publisher has taken the risk of investing in the production of a large excess. Marketing can provide clues as to the envisaged consumers of a book: for whom was the book intended, for what purpose, and, perhaps, for people in which area? When new and different editions entered the marketplace, rather than reprints of older editions, the publishers must have intended  See, for example, Freyja Cox Jensen, ‘“Pretious treasures made cheap”? The real cost of reading Roman history in early modern England’, in Eve Patten and Jason McElligott, eds., The perils of print culture (Basingstoke, ), pp. –.  To name but a few studies: Arnaldo Momigliano, ‘Polybius’ reappearance in western Europe’, in Olivier Reverdin, ed., Polybe: entretiens sur l’antiquité classique XX (Geneva, ), pp. –; Marianne Pade, The reception of Plutarch’s Lives in fifteenth-century Italy ( vols., Copenhagen, ); Fred Schurink, ‘Print, patronage, and occasion: translations of Plutarch’s Moralia in Tudor England’, Yearbook of English Studies,  (), pp. –; Fred Schurink, ‘War, what is it good for? Sixteenth-century English translations of ancient Roman texts on warfare’, in B. Hosington and S. Barker, Renaissance cultural crossroads: transla- tion, print and culture in Britain, – (Leiden, ), pp. –.  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core something different, either in terms of product, or in terms of market, otherwise there would be no reason to invest extra money in the production of something new; claims to novelty, either truthful or disingenuous, were used to market these editions more effectively. A study of when new editions of the works of the ancient historians enter the marketplace therefore seems likely to offer an insight into changing patterns of use, or taste, in a more detailed way. The combination of works in multi-authored books, and their advertise- ment – or not – on the title page is of significance here, as is the selection of epi- sodes from particular authors’ histories. Some editions of Diodorus selected the Trojan War for presentation in the book, others the life of Alexander, but the title pages did not always make it clear precisely what was included. Livy’s history was often published with Florus’s epitome of that work, for example, but editions of Florus’s epitome were usually advertised using Livy’s name, even when Livy’s text was not contained in the book. Livy’s marketing poten- tial was therefore clearly far greater than that of Florus, to the extent that pub- lishers misled customers about the content of the product being sold. Editions of Eutropius that were enlarged and continued by Diaconus and then by Sagax were printed with Eutropius’s name on the title page in varying degrees of prominence. Readers who read the text within would therefore consume the work of Eutropius, but the book had sometimes been marketed with only minimal reference to that fundamental source. What people thought they were buying, or what publishers and printers chose to tell people they were buying, is therefore not always identical with the real nature of the books; it is something this survey does not capture, but which would profit from further investigation. Burke’s survey of the popularity of ancient historians includes the authors published most frequently during the early modern period, as they appeared in his sources. The USTC reveals new patterns of popularity for the authors in Burke’s study; it is therefore reasonable to infer that there are other authors equally worthy of consideration, who may have been printed more often than Dio or Polybius, for example. Other ancient historians were printed and read in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, and their significance, numerically at least, will only become apparent if they are compared with the classical historians of Greece and Rome Burke chose for his study. Authors  For example, Titus Liuius Vnd Lucius Florus Von Ankufft vnnd Vrsprung des R[oe]mischen Reichs, Jetzund auff daß newe auß dem Latein verteutscht (Strasbourg, ), USTC . The text is Florus’s Epitome, yet Livy is credited as ‘first author’ on the title page.  For example, Chronologia historiae miscellae a Paulo aquilegiensi diacono primum collectae, post etiam à landulpho sagaci auctae productaeque ad imperium leonis IIII.id est, annum Christi dCCCvi. Libri XXIIII. In quibus praeter eutropii, flori et aliorum historias (Basel, ), USTC ; De gestis langobardorum libri VI eutropii insigne volumen quo Romana historia universa describitur, ex diver- sorum authorum monumentis collecta additae sunt Graecorum imperatorum vitae de rebus in oriente & Constantinopoli, persia, arabiaque gestis (Basel, ), USTC ; De gestis Romanorum libri octo ad Eutropii historiam additi (Paris, ), USTC  P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core such as Appian, Aurelius Victor, and Ammianus Marcellinus also wrote the history of ancient Rome, to name but three among many. A larger survey is therefore required in order to reach an accurate, global picture of the publishing of ancient histories in early modern Europe. A re-evalu- ation of the kinds of authors included may also reveal additional, nuanced insights for our understanding of early modern engagement with the ancient past. The definition of ‘history’ has, to some extent, dictated the authors selected for Burke’s study, yet the precise nature of such a definition is inherently subject- ive. Strictly speaking, according to the definitions used in the ancient world in which they were produced, not all the texts are histories, and not all the authors are historians. History, in the narrowest sense, charted the changes in states and constitutions over long swathes of time, as in the works of Tacitus and Livy. Caesar, on the other hand, wrote commentarii, precise records of military campaigns prepared from his field notes by the commander in charge. Plutarch and Suetonius wrote biographies, accounts of the lives of prominent men with a strong moral element often taking the place of historical details. An early modern definition of ‘history’ was rather broader than the one under- stood in the ancient world, and wider, too, than the academic understanding of the term today. Any writings about the past that told the stories of the deeds of men as part of an inquiry into the real or truthful nature of things could count as ‘history’ in the early modern world. The distinction between ‘literature’, in modern terms, and history, was far from clear, and history could encompass many forms of writing. Burke thus counted Plutarch, Suetonius, and Caesar among the ancient historians; after all, much can be learned from their texts about ancient Greece and Rome. Much can also be learned from a more ‘literary’ text like Lucan’s Pharsalia, which presents for his readers the constitutional strug- gle between Caesar and Pompey; epic poetry it may be, but it is historical writing, too. If Valerius Maximus is included among the historians, then Aulus Gellius, another commonplacer, perhaps deserves a place there too? I have chosen not to count him among the historians, since his Attic nights covers a far wider range of topics than the Words and deeds of Valerius Maximus, which focuses on the actions and words of prominent historical figures, but others might choose to include Gellius, and maybe also Pliny the Younger, or indeed the Elder. And since Livy’s history contains some elements of the mythic, it therefore seems rea- sonable to consider the works of Dares and Dictys as qualitatively similar works. The ‘ancient historians’ could therefore be taken to be all those whose works aimed primarily to provide their readers with historical information about ancient Greece or Rome, whatever form that work might take. The difficulty  Charles W. Fornara, The nature of history in ancient Greece and Rome (Berkeley, CA, and London, ), pp. –.  Gian Biagio Conte, Latin literature: a history (Baltimore, MD, and London, ), pp. – ; see also Grafton, What was history?; Gianna Pomata and Nancy G. Siraisi, eds., Historia: empiri- cism and erudition in early modern Europe (Cambridge, MA, ).  I have counted them together, as they were often published with one another.  F R E Y J A C O X J E N S E N terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core in defining the limits of a larger, more inclusive study then becomes a matter of periodicity: how late in antiquity should we look for our authors and their subject matter? And an appreciation of the generic differences between the various works, in combination with a broader survey of their popularity, would allow a more subtle interrogation of the tastes of early modern readers: how did people like their history? I have suggested in Table  an expanded list of ancient historians, with their relative popularities, to . The finer details of their fortuna, and the implica- tions thereof for our understanding of early modern history and culture, are subjects for another discussion. Table  Number of books of more ancient ‘historians’, – Sallust  Livy  Plutarch  Valerius  Josephus  Caesar  Suetonius  Florus  Justin  Tacitus  Lucan  Xenophon  Nepos  Diogenes Laertius  Aurelius Victor  Curtius  Appian  Thucydides  Herodotus  Herodian  Diodorus  Eutropius  Dares and Dictys  Cassius Dio  Polybius  Festus (Sextus Rufus)  Dionysius of Halicarnassus  Velleius Paterculus  Procopius  Ammianus Marcellinus  P O P U L A R I T Y O F A N C I E N T H I S T O R I A N S terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X17000395 https://www.cambridge.org/core THE POPULARITY OF ANCIENT HISTORIANS, 1450–1600* I II III IV V 
work_2lq2dwwrrrgpto2i3rialvoos4	----	Balserak, J. (2019). Geneva’s Use of Lies, Deceit, and Simulation in their Efforts to Reform France, 1536-1563. Harvard Theological Review, 112(1), 76-100. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0017816018000354 Peer reviewed version License (if available): Other Link to published version (if available): 10.1017/S0017816018000354 Link to publication record in Explore Bristol Research PDF-document This is the author accepted manuscript (AAM). The final published version (version of record) is available online via Cambridge University Press at https://doi.org/10.1017/S0017816018000354 . Please refer to any applicable terms of use of the publisher. University of Bristol - Explore Bristol Research General rights This document is made available in accordance with publisher policies. Please cite only the published version using the reference above. Full terms of use are available: http://www.bristol.ac.uk/red/research-policy/pure/user-guides/ebr-terms/ https://doi.org/10.1017/S0017816018000354 https://doi.org/10.1017/S0017816018000354 https://research-information.bris.ac.uk/en/publications/ce6780d9-48da-4634-951e-def8e70473bf https://research-information.bris.ac.uk/en/publications/ce6780d9-48da-4634-951e-def8e70473bf 1 Lies and Simulation in Geneva’s Efforts to Reform France, 1536-1563 Jon Balserak University of Bristol Theodore Beza speaks in his 22 January 1561 letter to Ambroise Blaurer of Reformed churches, which he calls “colonies,” being born in France by the Lord’s work.1 To be sure, Geneva’s ministry to France was, from the 1540s into the 1560s, remarkably fecund. A census found 2,150 Reformed churches in France at the beginning of 1562.2 One might wonder how such impressive growth was achieved given the opposition Geneva and Calvinism faced from the country’s Catholic government during this period. This article explores this basic question.3 A number of answers might be suggested. I will propose that one likely factor behind this growth was Geneva’s use of lies and subterfuge to hide their ministerial activities from the French authorities and that, whether this was a cause of growth or not, this deception was integral to their ministry to the country. Accusations of Geneva, especially Calvin, being unscrupulous, dishonest, immoral—the so-called Black Legend of Calvin—are a well-known part of sixteenth-and-seventeenth-century polemics against the Reformed faith.4  Seminar-attendees at Edinburgh University and University of Bristol made extremely-helpful comments on previous drafts, particularly, Jane Dawson, Stewart Brown, Sara Parvis, George Ferzoco, and Bob Akroyd, as did two anonymous reviewers. Errors remain mine alone. 1 Theodore Beza, Correspondance de Theodore de Beze (ed. Hippolyte Aubert, et al.; Travaux d’Humanisme et Renaissance; 42 vols.; Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1960–) 3: 80–81. Also, Beza to Jean Wolf, 25 March 1561 (Beza, Correspondance 3: 94); Beza to Bullinger, 24 May 1561 (Beza, Correspondance 3: 101–2). Unless otherwise indicated, translations are mine. 2 Beza’s Histoire ecclesiastique des Églises réformées au Royaume de France (ed. Guillaume Baum and Edouard Cunitz; 3 vols.; Paris: Fishbacher, 1883-89) (hereafter Hist Eccl) relates Catherine de’Medici’s request for the census. See the recent re-assessment, Philip Benedict and Nicolas Fornerod, “Les 2,150 ‘églises’ réformées de France de 1561–1562,” Revue historique 311/ 3 (2009) 529–60. A smaller number, 1500, is mentioned in a 15 July 1561 letter from Beza to Grataroli (Beza, Correspondance 3: 282). 3 Jonathan Reid, “French Evangelical Networks Before 1555: Proto- Churches?,” in La réforme en France et en Italie: Contacts, comparisons, et contrastes (ed. Philip Benedict, et al.; Rome: École française de Rome, 2007) 105–24 engagingly addresses, from a different vantage-point, this same question. 4 Peter Marshall, “John Calvin and the English Catholics, c. 1565- 1640,” The Historical Journal 53/4 (2010) 849–70; William Monter, “Witchcraft in Geneva, 1537–1662,” Journal of Modern History 43/2 (1971) 179-204. 2 Yet modern scholars have generally failed to consider the possibility of Geneva’s employment of ethically-dubious strategies such as lying. “Calvin constantly promoted an uncompromising standard of honesty among the Reformed faithful and held himself up as a model,”5 Kirk Summers recently wrote in his excellent study of Beza’s ethics. Numerous researchers treating Calvin and Beza have likewise depicted both as profoundly honest.6 This is not to say modern scholars have been unwilling to criticize the Genevans. G.R. Elton wrote, with a strong nod towards Nazi Germany: “Calvin’s Geneva should not be disbelieved or despised; it should be treated seriously as an awful warning.”7 Others have raised ideas closer to dishonesty. Raymond Blacketer queried “how consistent Calvin was in following through with his strict standards of veracity.”8 Pierre Imbart de la Tour, Vittorio de Caprariis, Robert Kingdon, Denis Crouzet, Scott Manetsch, and Bruce Gordon9 5 Kirk Summers, Morality After Calvin: Theodore Beza’s Christian Censor and Reformed Ethics (Oxford studies in historical theology; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2017) 123. 6 E.g. John L. Thompson, “The Immoralities of the Patriarchs in the History of Exegesis: A Reappraisal of Calvin’s Position,” CTJ 26/1 (1991) 9–46; idem, “Patriarchs, Polygamy, and Private Resistance: John Calvin and Others on Breaking God’s Rules,” Sixteenth Century Journal 25/1 (1994) 3– 27. Sensu lato, Wilhelm Kolfhaus, Vom christlichen Leben nach Johannes Calvin (Neukirchen: Kreis Moers, 1949); Guenther Haas, The Concept of Equity in Calvin’s Ethics (Carlisle, PA: Paternoster Press, 1997). 7 G.R. Elton, Reformation Europe 1517-1559 2nd ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 1999) 163. 8 Raymond Blacketer, “No Escape by Deception: Calvin’s Exegesis of Lies and Liars in the Old Testament,” Reformation & Renaissance Review 10/3 (2008) 267–289, esp. 284; also, idem, “The Moribund Moralist: Ethical Lessons in Calvin’s Commentary on Joshua,” Dutch Review of Church History 85 (2005) 149–68. 9 Pierre Imbart de la Tour, Les Origines de la Réforme (4 vols.; Paris: Hachette et Cie, 1905–1935) 4: 185–93; Vittorio de Caprariis, “La politica calvinista e gli inizi della polemica ugonotta,” in Propaganda e pensiero politico in Francia durante le Guerre di Religione (Naples: Edizioni scientifiche italiane, 1959) 1–69, esp. 39; Robert Kingdon, Geneva and the Coming of the Wars of Religion in France, 1555–1563 (Geneva: Droz, 1956) 110–12; Michael Walzer, The Revolution of the Saints: A Study in the Origins of Radical Politics (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1965) 23, 39, 59; Philip Benedict, “The Dynamics of Protestant Militancy: France, 1555– 1563,” in Reformation, Revolt and Civil War in France and the Netherlands 1555–1585 (ed. Philip Benedict, et al.; Koninklijke Nederlandse Akademie van Wetenschappen Verhandlingen, Afd. Letterkunde, Nieuwe Reeks, deel 176; Amsterdam: Royal Netherlands Academy of Arts and Sciences, 1999) 35–50, esp. 39–40; Denis Crouzet, “Calvinism and the Uses of the Political and the Religious (France, ca. 1560 –ca. 1572),” in Reformation, Revolt and Civil War (ed. Philip Benedict, et al.), 99–114, esp. 99–100; Scott Manetsch, Theodore Beza and the Quest for Peace in France: 1572–1598 (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Traditions 79; Leiden: Brill, 2000) 19–20; Paul- Alexis Mellet, Les Traités monarchomaques. Confusion des temps, résistance 3 inter alia alluded to dishonest conduct (pragmatism, equivocation, subterfuge) on the part of Calvin and Beza. The argument I set out below fills a gap in scholarship by exploring in more detail the ideas pointed to by these authors and, specifically, by elucidating the stratagem devised by Calvin for hiding Geneva’s French ministry. This article focuses on Calvin and Beza. Clearly, a more thorough treatment would also examine the involvement of Nicolas Des Gallars, Charles de Jonvilliers, Laurent de Normandy, Galeazzo Caracciolo, Nicolas Colladon, the Budé brothers (Jean, Louis, and François), François Hotman, Denis Raguenier, and other ministers, secretaries, and various assistants.10 But such ambitious aims are beyond the scope of this short article. Our terminus a quo is mid-1536, when Calvin arrived in Geneva; the terminus ad quem March 1563, the date of the Edict of Amboise. We will meander outside of these boundaries on occasion but only briefly. In what follows, I begin by examining Calvin and Beza’s understanding of mendacity. This will allow their own thinking on the topic to provide the standard for our subsequent analysis of their conduct. Next, I outline that conduct, namely, what Calvin and Beza did to spread the gospel and support Calvinist churches and conventicles in France. Finally, I demonstrate their use of lies and especially simulation (feigning or dissembling) to hide their ministry to France. Before commencing, I need to introduce early French evangelicalism.11 Scholars have traditionally understood the growth of Calvinism in sixteenth- century France in terms of Geneva creating order out of the amorphous armée et monarchie parfaite (1560–1600) (Geneva: Droz, 2007) 62–63; Bruce Gordon, Calvin (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2009) 167, 321– 22. Related are: William J. Bouwsma, John Calvin; A Sixteenth-Century Portrait (New York: Oxford University Press, 1988) 116, 141 and Sara Beam, “Rites of Torture in Reformation Geneva,” in Ritual and Violence: Natalie Zemon Davis and Early Modern France (ed. Graeme Murdock, Penny Roberts, and Andrew Spicer; Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2012) 197–219. 10 Jeannine Olson, “The Mission to France: Nicolas Des Gallars’ Interaction with John Calvin, Gaspard de Coligny, and Edmund Grindal, Bishop of London,” in Calvinus clarrisimus theologus: Papers of the Tenth International Congress on Calvin Research (ed. Herman Selderhuis; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2012) 344–57; eadem, “The Quest for Anonymity: Laurent de Normandie, His Colporteurs, and the Expansion of Reformed Communities through Worship,” in Semper Reformanda: John Calvin, Worship, and Reformed Traditions (ed. Barbara Pitkin; Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2018), 33–56. On some of these figures, see Émile Doumergue, Jean Calvin: les hommes et les choses de son temps (7 vols.; Lausanne: G. Bridel, 1844-1937) 3: 594–647. 11 See Denis Crouzet, La genèse de la Réforme française 1520-1562 (Paris: SEDES, 1996); Society and Culture in the Huguenot World, 1559– 1685 (ed. Raymond Mentzer and Andrew Spicer; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2002). 4 collection of movements associated with the French Renaissance.12 More recent work, however, has questioned this narrative. Jonathan Reid has persuasively shown that the evangelical scene in France prior to the commencement of Calvin and Beza’s labors was quite organized. Marguerite of Navarre had successfully established an evangelical network of theologians and preachers— Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples, Guillaume Briçonnet, Jean Du Bellay, and others— many of whom she managed to have appointed as bishops, in which capacity they worked for reform within the Catholic church.13 Taking this seriously, it casts the growth of Calvinism in France in a different light. It suggests a complex relationship between Beza’s “colonies” and Marguerite’s evangelical community, many of whom self-identified as Nicodemites.14 We know that Geneva saw itself as engaged in a struggle against Nicodemism. Evidence for this is replete, including a 1556 lecture by Calvin on Hosea 4:15. Yet our fight is not only with the papists but also with those wicked scoundrels who arrogantly call themselves Nicodemites.15 Thus, in addition to the French government, it seems the Genevans also saw the Nicodemites as an opposing force with which they had to deal—a fact which, I 12 Carlos Eire, War Against the Idols; The Reformation of Worship from Erasmus to Calvin (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982), 271; Donald Kelley, The Beginning of Ideology: Consciousness and Society in the French Reformation (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1982) 89–128. 13 Jonathan Reid, King’s Sister – Queen of Dissent: Marguerite of Navarre (1492-1549) and her Evangelical Network (2 vols.; Studies in Medieval and Reformation Traditions 139; Leiden: Brill, 2009) 1: 13. 14 Carlo Ginzburg, Il Nicodemismo, Simulazione e dissimulazione religiosa nell ’ Europa del‘ 500 (Turin: Guilio Einaudi, 1970); Eugénie Droz, Les Chemins de l'hérésie: textes et documents (4 vols.; Geneva: Slatkine, 1970-1976) 1: 131–71; Carlos Eire, “Calvin and Nicodemism: A Reappraisal,” Sixteenth Century Journal 10/1 (1979) 44–69; Francis Higman, “The Question of Nicodemism,” in Calvinus Ecclesiae Genevensis Custos; Die Referate des Congrès International des Recherches Calviniennes . . . September 1982 in Genf (ed. Wilhelm Niesel; Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 1984) 165–70; Olivier Millet, Calvin et la dynamique de la parole: Etude de rhétorique réformée (Geneva: Editions Slatkine, 1992) 480-504; Perez Zagorin, Ways of Lying; Dissimulation, Persecution, and Conformity in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1990) 63–82; Jon R. Snyder, Dissimulation and the Culture of Secrecy in Early Modern Europe (Los Angeles: University of California Press, 2012); Dissimulation and Deceit in Early Modern Europe (ed. Miriam Eliav-Feldon and Tamar Herzig; New York: Palgrave, 2015); Kenneth Woo, “The House of God in Exile: Reassessing John Calvin’s Approach to Nicodemism in Quatre Sermons (1552),” Church History and Religious Culture 95 (2015) 222–44. 15 Ioannis Calvini opera quae supersunt omnia (ed. Guillaume Baum, Edouard Cunitz, and Edouard Reuss; 59 vols.; Brunsvigae: Apud C.A. Schwetschke et filium, 1863−1900) (hereafter CO) 42: 290. 5 suggest, made it even more likely that Geneva might choose to engage in deception in order to hide their ministerial work in France. Mendacity and Geneva’s Judgement of the Nicodemites Calvin and Beza discussed mendacity in various writings and in their attacks on Nicodemism, which elicited from them frequent and robust examinations of various forms of lying and deception. Marguerite of Navarre and her evangelical network had been working for two decades to reform the church when Calvin, in the late 1530s, began ministering to France. Beza would join him in the 1550s. One way Calvin pursued this work was through a calculated assault on Nicodemism through tracts like Petit traicté, Traicté des reliques, Excuse à Messieurs les Nicodémites, Contre la secte phantastique et furieuse des Libertins, and other pieces16 in which he excoriated the movement and called their faith illusory. Calvin and Beza attacked the Nicodemites for participating in the “idolatrous” mass and for their rationale behind this participation, namely, ministry. Nicodemites like Gérard Roussel, Nicolas Duchemin, Jean Du Bellay, and Marguerite herself, chose to practice their faith and work for reform within the structures of the French Catholic church. Though some of Calvin and Beza’s fellow-reformers approved of this approach, including Wolfgang Capito and Martin Bucer,17 to the Genevans it was profoundly misguided. Calvin explained in a sermon on Acts preached in 1550. It is like those Nicodemites who say, “It is good to assume some cover (couverture); when I go to mass every day, they will think I am very devout, and eventually they will find some little crack and enter into discussion and respond in such a way that the mass will be abolished.” This is the pretext behind which these evil people want to hide as they counterfeit being Christians today. . . . the people who employ such tactics say, “It seems to us that the gospel will be better advanced in this way” . . . [but ultimately we find that] . . . they simply want to flee from the cross and persecution.18 16 See footnote 78. 17 “In Consilium theologicum, Bucer would assure a Nicodemite vir quidam that, through diligent study of the fathers, the rites and ceremonies of the papal church could be adapted to a more wholesome interpretation” (Nick Thompson, Eucharistic Sacrifice and Patristic Tradition in the Theology of Martin Bucer, 1534−1546 (Studies in the History of Christian Traditions 119; Leiden: Brill: 2005) 141). Thompson indicates that Pierre Fraenkel (Martini Buceri Opera Omnia, series II: Opera Latina (ed. F. Wendel, et al; Studies in Medieval and Reformation Thought; Leiden: Brill, 1955) 4: xv−xxix) dates the work to the winter of 1540−1541 and believes that the last part is intended to answer the anti-Nicodemite arguments of Calvin’s Epistolae duae. 18 Supplementa Calviniana; Sermons inédits (ed. Erwin Mulhaupt et al. ; 11 vols.; Neukirchen: Neukirchener, 1936−) (hereafter SC) 8: 225. 6 Particularly noteworthy here is the fact that Calvin accused the Nicodemites of sinful simulation and dissimulation about which we will say more momentarily. But we should first consider Calvin and Beza’s treatment of lying more generally. When we do, we find that they were loyal Augustinians.19 Augustine defined lying in his De Mendacio by indicating that someone lies “who has one thing in his mind and speaks another with words or with signs of any kind.”20 Augustine’s definition raised an immediate question related to its application. He applied it rigorously. But Christianity developed two distinct traditions here, with figures like Clement of Alexandria (in Stromateis) and John Chrysostom (in De Sacerdotio) endorsing the idea of the pious or officious lie (mendacium officiosum).21 These theologians insisted on the importance of intent in their expositions. Chrysostom mentioned Paul’s circumcising of Timothy (Acts 16:3; 1 Corinthians 9:20) as well as the common examples of army generals, parents, and physicians all of whom deceive in their work as a matter of practical necessity, but are excused because they do so with good intent.22 Jerome took a similar approach.23 Other biblical examples include the lies told by Rahab (Joshua 2) and the Hebrew midwives (Exodus 1), who told officious lies which were adjudged to be pious because of their intentions.24 Augustine disagreed. For him, intent was focused on the question of whether one knowingly and deliberately spoke contra mentem. Doing so always amounts to lying. One who utters an untruth which she thinks is true does not lie, but if she knows it to be false, then she is guilty of sinfully lying. Key to his understanding was the eliding of Truth with God, as Boniface Ramsey has 19 Regarding the extent of Calvin’s dependence on Augustine on this topic, I am indebted to Blacketer, “No Escape,” 274−282. 20 De Mendacio 3 (CSEL 41: 415). 21 See, O. Lipmann and P. Plaut eds, Die Lüge in psychologischer, philosophischer, juristischer, pädagogischer, historischer, soziologischer, sprach- und literaturwissenschaftlicher und entwicklungsgeschichlicher Betrachtung (Leipzig: Barth, 1927); Boniface Ramsey, O.P. “Two Traditions on Lying and Deception in the Ancient Church,” The Thomist 48 (1985) 515−531; Johann Somerville, “The ‘new art of lying’: equivocation, mental reservation, and casuistry,” in Conscience and Casuistry in Early Modern Europe (ed. Edmund Leites; Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1988) 159−189. Clement of Alexandria, Stromateis 7.8.50−7.9.53; John Chrysostom, De Sacerdotio 1.8−9. 22 Chrysostom also mentioned the need to assess human intention in assessing a range of moral actions, lest one condemn Abraham (Gen 22:3), Phinees’ slaying of idolaters (Num 25:7), and Elijah’s killing of 100 soldiers (2 Kgs 1:9-12), PG 48: 628−632. 23 Jerome argued Paul and Peter’s argument was feigned; Jerome’s Galatians commentary (PL 26: 363−367) and Augustine’s De Mendacio 8 (CSEL 41: 422−24) and their dispute over the issue, CSEL 54: 496−503; 666–74 and 55: 367−393. 24 Others, from John Cassian to Martin Luther, supported the officious lie (e.g. Dr. M. Luthers Samtliche Werke (Erlangen: C. Heyder, 1826−1886) 35: 18; see, Hartmann Grisar, S.J., Luther (6 vols.; trans. E.M. Lamond; St Louis: B Herder, 1917) 6: 513-515, cf. Calvin, Mosis Libri V, . . . harmoniae digesti (CO 24: 18−19). 7 rightly argued.25 Augustine did, it should be noted, concede that joking should not be considered lying. He also allowed for deception (i.e. ambushes) to occur in war without sin.26 But apart from these allowances, he was extraordinarily uncompromising in his assessment of what constitutes mendacity. In the same way, Calvin and Beza linked God and Truth. Beza, for instance, commented on John 8:44 that Satan could not remain in the father’s presence “for the simple fact that he lied; God only receives unto himself what is true.”27 The same can be seen in Beza’s poem “In Mendaces” in his Cato Censorius Christianus.28 Calvin argued those who espouse the officious lie “do not sufficiently consider how precious truth is in the sight of God.” Whatever is “contrary to God’s nature” cannot be right. Although the aim of the believer is good, “it can never be lawful to lie.” For “God is truth.”29 Exploring mendacity further, Augustine, Aquinas, Erasmus, Calvin, Beza and a myriad of others examined concealment. They distinguished between two forms: simulatio and dissimulatio. Though similar, the two exhibit a noteworthy difference. To dissimulate, Calvin explained in his Petit traicté “is merely to hide what one has in one’s heart, while to simulate, to feign, goes beyond that, and is the moral equivalent of lying.”30 Thus, all simulation is sinful, but not all dissimulation. While dissimulation can represent a misleading silence it can also amount simply to the withholding of information. Calvin noted Jesus dissimulated when speaking with the disciples on the road to Emmaus.31 He also said God was dissimulating in portions of the Old Testament such as 1 Samuel 16:2 where God’s prophet Samuel appears to deceive Saul about a trip he is making to anoint David in Bethlehem.32 Dissimulation could, however, also be sinful and, in the case of the Nicodemites, Calvin and Beza believed it was. When the Nicodemite chose to conceal her Reformed beliefs from the local authorities and many of her friends, the Genevans insisted that she was acting 25 Ramsey, “Two Traditions,” 511. 26 See Augustine’s QQ. in Hept. qu. x super Jos. as cited by Aquinas, Summa Theologica II-II Q40 a3 s.c. 27 Beza, Testamentum, sive Novum Foedus, … Th. Bezae Annotationes (2 vols.; Geneva: E. Vignon, 1598) 2: 397 as cited in Summer, Morality After Calvin, 126−27. For Calvin, Inst 2.8.47 (CO 2: 300). He also explains: “Whatever is opposed to the nature of God is sinful” (Joannis Calvini in librum Josue . . . et obitu (CO 25: 440−3)). 28 Cato Censorius Christianus (Geneva: Ioannem Tornaesium, 1591). Beza’s “In Mendaces” can be found in Kirk, Morality After Calvin, 128−9. 29 CO 25: 440−3. Their line of argument resembles Augustine’s in Contra Mendacium. 30 Calvin, Petit traicté (CO 6: 546). See Johannes Trapman, “Erasmus on Lying and Simulation,” in On the Edge of Truth and Honesty: Principles and Strategies of Fraud and Deceit in the Early Modern Period (ed. Toon van Houdt, et al.; Intersections 2; Leiden: Brill, 2002) 33−46. 31 Calvin insisted “Christum sine mendacio peraeque simulasse” (CO 45: 803−8). 32 CO 30: 147−58. Ably discussed in Zagorin, Ways of Lying, 100−30; Blacketer, “No Escape,” 280−2. 8 directly against the gospel directive to confess her faith (Romans 10:9-10). This, then, was sinful dissimulation. Simulation, of which the Nicodemites were also guilty, was always sinful. “In short, what lying is in words simulation is in deeds.”33 It amounted to pretending or falsifying. Fundamental to Nicodemism was the idea that one must feign that she is a loyal Catholic, though she is not. She actually believes the major Protestant doctrines, such as justification by faith alone. She also often, as was the case with Roussel and Marguerite, believes the Pope to be the Anti-Christ and the Roman church the synagogue of Satan. Yet she sits in Catholic mass, feigning to pray to the saints, believe the Eucharist becomes the body and blood of Christ, and such like.34 For these reasons, Calvin and Beza were swift to excoriate the Nicodemites. They knew many had clear reasons supporting their choice. “We dissemble,” Calvin said explaining the rationale of the Nicodemite as he understood it, “in order to win our neighbors and produce a new seed day by day.”35 Nonetheless, the Genevans upbraided the likes of Roussel, Duchemin, and Antoine Fumée for adopting ministerial tactics which were patently dishonest. They accused the Nicodemites of merely toying with God, and saw behind Nicodemism a fundamental opposition to the gospel. There is an excuse which all of them make, both great and small, lay and cleric. It is even less deserving of a hearing. “What!” they say, “Shall we all depart and run away to an unknown place? Or, indeed, shall we risk our lives?” If we reduce . . . [their argument to its essence] . . . it is as if they were to say, “What! Can we not serve God, and follow his word, without suffering persecution?” If they wish to be good Christians on that condition, they must devise an entirely new Jesus Christ.36 Similarly-harsh condemnations of the Nicodemites by the Genevans could be multiplied. It is, then, apparent that Calvin and Beza set down inflexible opposition to lying. Before proceeding to the next section, it is important to insist clearly that there were arenas within which they both were profoundly honest and demanded honesty of others. We might, here, point as further evidence of this to the establishing by Calvin in the 1540s of the Consistory, which vigorously enforced morality within the city and took prevarication extremely seriously. But be that as it may, this article will demonstrate that in ministering to France they behaved with far less honesty. Calvin and Beza’s Ministry to France 33 CO 6: 546. 34 See Calvin’s accusing of Roussel in CO 5: 279−312. 35 CO 6: 548. 36 CO 6: 603.On his harshness, David F. Wright, “Why was Calvin so severe a critic of Nicodemism?,” in Calvinus Evangelii Propugnator: Calvin Champion of the Gospel; Papers Presented at the International Congress on Calvin Research, Seoul, 1998 (ed. David F. Wright, A. N. S. Lane and Jon Balserak; Grand Rapids: CRC, 2006) 66–90. 9 Calvin fled Paris following Nicholas Cop’s November 1533 rectorial address at the University of Paris,37 which Calvin himself may have penned. (The juxtaposition between his fleeing and his criticizing of the Nicodemites for seeking to avoid persecution is perhaps noteworthy, though our attention in what follows will be focused elsewhere.38) He was, by 1533, part of the evangelical community. He knew Marguerite and was associated with her network. He knew Cop, Duchemin, Roussel, Etienne de la Forge, and other prominent evangelicals. After his flight, he wandered, living for a while in the outskirts of Paris, Claix, Basel, Ferrara, and settling in Geneva in 1536. While in Claix and Basel, Calvin wrote his Institutio Christianae Religionis, on which I will have more to say later. He made his way to Geneva in July of 1536 from where he continued to support those in France who adhered to the evangelical faith. The flow of letters was uninterrupted as Calvin wrote to comfort, encourage, and warn believers that “those who belong to Antichrist rage.”39 He began literary campaigns against the “papists” and the Nicodemites. The next few decades witnessed a build-up of ministerial activities in France originating from Geneva that would be vehemently opposed by a succession of French kings through measures such as the Chambre Ardente and the Edict of Châteaubriant, both passed by King Henry II (1547-1559). (This opposition was in full-force in 1558, when Beza joined Calvin in Geneva).40 While in Strasbourg, Calvin produced Aulcuns pseaumes et cantiques mys en chant, together with Clément Marot, which would eventually be developed by Beza into the enormously-influential 1562 Genevan Psalter.41 Upon Calvin’s return 37 CO 10b:30−36. Jean Rott, Marijn de Kroon, Marc Lienhard, Investigationes historicae. Eglises et société au XVIe siècle (Publications de la Société savante d’Alsace et des régions de l’Est. Collection Grandes publications 31−32; 2 vols.; Strasbourg: Grandes Publications, 1986) 2: 266– 87. 38 Calvin defends himself in Excuse, CO 6: 607. 39 Inter alia, CO 10: 428−9; CO 12: 47; 342; CO 16: 629−33; CO 17: 570−4; 17: 671−87. He also praised their death, calling them martyrs, e.g. CO 13: 348−9. 40 Beza discusses his flight in a 1560 letter to Wolmar, Beza, Correspondance 3: 47. He also explains that persecution was intensifying around this time, Hist Eccl 1: 133-6. He went first to Lausanne and a decade later to Geneva. While in Lausanne, Beza worked to strengthen French evangelical churches and drafted a defence of Calvin against Sebastian Castellio, see De haereticis a civili magistratu puniendis libellus (Geneva: Robert Stephanus, 1554); for more, Karin Maag, “Recteur, pasteur, et professeur: Theodore de Beze et l’education à Genève,” in Théodore de Bèze (1519−1605): Actes du colloque de Genève (ed. Irena Backus; Geneva: Droz, 2007) 29-39. 41 Beza took over translating the Psalms into French, following Marot’s 1544 death, publishing the Octante-trois psaumes in 1553. Les psaumes en vers franc̜ois, retouchez sur l'ancienne version de Cl. Marot & Th. de Beze (Paris: Antoine Cellier, 1579). See, Julien Gœury, “Les Pasteurs Poètes De Langue Française Des Origines De La Réforme à La Révocation De L’édit De Nantes,” Bulletin De La Société de L'Histoire du Protestantisme Français 156 (2010) 129-46. 10 from Strasbourg to Geneva in 1541, he replaced Geneva’s ministers with Frenchmen whom he knew and could trust. The Vénérable Compagnie des Pasteurs became a body Calvin could direct with little resistance.42 Calvin continued his literary campaign against Nicodemism, as well as providing French Calvinists with a French catechism and La Forme des prières et chanz ecclésiastiques.43 Geneva being an important center for printing, many of the books and pamphlets it produced during this period were smuggled into France. In fact, Geneva was “second only to Paris in the volume of religious works printed in French.”44 Following the removal from Geneva of the Perrinists in the summer of 1555, the Genevan pastors began to train and send ministers into France—work which nicely hints at the evolution of Geneva’s means of influence within France from texts in the 1540s to personnel in the 1550s and 1560s. They had sent a few ministers before that time. Beza had done the same from Lausanne.45 The Livre des Habitants de Genève shows how many French refugees entered the city during the 1550s and 1560s.46 Many of them were trained and sent back as pastors. Calvin and Beza also sought political influence in France.47 The conversion of French nobles was a desideratum from early on. Antoine of Navarre and his brother, Louis of Condé, both Princes of the Blood, François d’Andelot de Coligny and his brother, Gaspard de Coligny, Admiral of France,48 were all called upon. For instance, following King Henry II’s sudden death in 1559, Calvin and Beza pleaded with Antoine of Navarre to 42 William Naphy, Calvin and the Consolidation of the Genevan Reformation (Louisville: Westminster, 2003) 144–66. Studies by Robert Kingdon, Ray Mentzer, and Philip Benedict also demonstrate Calvin’s clear authority over these men. 43 His continued campaign enraged evangelicals including Marguerite herself. Calvin writes her (28 April 1545) regarding his attacks on the Libertines and Nicodemites, which had been interpreted by some, and apparently her, as attacks by Calvin on her, CO 12: 65–68. 44 Gordon, Calvin, 360 n.18 notes the work of Andrew Pettegree and the French Book Project (St Andrews University) to support this assertion. 45 Manetsch, Theodore Beza, 15; see Beza to Farel, 16 March 1556 (Beza, Correspondance 2: 35); Beza to Bullinger, 27 March 1557 (Beza, Correspondance 2: 57). 46 Le Livre des Habitants de Genève, Tome I, 1555-1572 (ed. Paul-F. Giesendorf; 2 vols.; Travaux d’humanisme et renaissance; Geneva: Droz, 1957−1963) 1: 54−218; Peter Wilcox, “The lectures of John Calvin and the nature of his audience,” Archiv für Reformationsgeschichte 87 (1996) 136−48. 47 See, Kingdon, “PART II: Political Activity,” in Geneva, 54−126. 48 Calvin to Antoine of Navarre, December 1557 (CO 16: 730-734) and June 1558 (CO 17: 196−198); see, Francis DeCrue, L’action politique de Calvin hors de Genève: d'après sa correspondence (Geneva: Librairie Georg, 1909) 42−59. Gaspard de Coligny is addressed by Beza in his dedicatory letter to Ioannis Calvini in Viginti prima Ezechielis Propheta capita praelectiones (Geneva: Francisci Perrini, 1565) iir−viiiv; see also CO 17: 318−19; and, Junko Shimizu, Conflict of Loyalties: Politics and Religion in the Career of Gaspard de Coligny, Admiral of France, 1519−1572 (Geneva: Droz, 1970) 28−30. 11 insert himself into the resulting power struggle, as the new King Francis II’s youth (he was fifteen) meant a regency council was authorized to administer the government until he reached the age of twenty-five49 (Antoine was not interested50). Calvin and Beza also employed more radical means. As the late 1550s witnessed the increase in plots designed to save the king from the powerful House of Guise, Beza and Calvin planned their own. Rejecting the ill- fated Conspiracy of Amboise of 17 March 1560,51 they planned in September of 1560 to give troops and money to Antoine of Navarre to use in order “aggressively to assert his right to lead a regency government and then promote Reformed rights of worship.”52 The plot never materialized. Beza attended the Colloquy of Poissy in September of 1561, which was, by most reckonings, a disaster.53 With the war commencing in the spring of 1562, Calvin and Beza 49 This council would be made up of the Estates General and the Princes of the Blood, and could take the decision to resist Francis II’s government, if it felt such action were necessary. However, see Histoire et dictionnaire des guerres de religion, 1559–1598 (ed. Arlette Jouanna; Paris: Laffont, 1998) 52−3, 1067. 50 Calvin complains about Antoine, CO 17: 594-595; CO 18: 229–31; CO 18: 231–32; CO 18: 254–56; CO 18: 267–69; CO 18: 97–100, esp. 98. Beza and Calvin continued their efforts with Antoine, CO 18: 608–10; CO 18: 621. King Francis II’s death on December 5, 1560 brought relief to the Reformed. Beza described his reign with Jesus’ words: “If those days had not been cut short, no one would survive, but for the sake of the elect those days will be shortened” (Matt 24:22 NIV) (Hist Eccl 1: 133-4); see also CO 18: 270. The new monarch, Charles IX, was only nine when he took the throne and was under the regency of Catherine, Hist Eccl 1: 459–566. 51 On which, Beza’s Hist Eccl 1: 164-74, Histoire et Dictionnaire (ed. Jouanna), 52−69, Kingdon, Geneva, 68−78, and further discussion below. 52 Alain Dufour, “L’affaire de Maligny (Lyon, 4-5 septembre 1560) vue à travers la correspondance de Calvin et de Bèze,” in Cahiers d’Histoire 8 (1963) 269-80. Philip Benedict, “Prophets in Arms? Ministers in War, Ministers on War: France 1562–1574,” in Ritual and Violence (ed. Murdock, Roberts and Spicer), 163-96, esp. 171 n.21. See CO 18: 177–80; CO 18: 176– 78. This plot “had Calvin’s approval (since the first prince of the blood was directing it). Calvin took charge even of collecting funds borrowed left and right, up to 50,000 pounds” (Alain Dufour, Théodore de Bèze, poète et théologien (Geneva: Droz, 2006) 74); also, idem, “L’affaire de Maligny,” 269−80; Beza, Correspondance 3: 63−70. 53 Beza, Correspondance 3: 132−3. On 1 November 1560, Calvin wrote to Bullinger that “war in France is inevitable” (CO 18: 230). See, inter alia, Lucien Romier, Les origines politiques des guerres de religion (2 vols.; Paris: Perrin et Cie, Libraires-Editeurs, 1913−1914); Jon Balserak, John Calvin as Sixteenth-century Prophet (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014). There were still highpoints for the Reformed. For instance, 16 January 1561 Calvin wrote to Admiral Coligny (CO 18: 316−17) who, in the wake of Francis II’s death, was ready to work for the Reformed cause and eodem die wrote Antoine (CO 18: 311−12). Yet, by the time of the Poissy Colloquy in September, Calvin would warn Coligny, who was present at it, of Antoine’s 12 supported it vigorously. Notable here is Calvin’s seeking of financial support for the hiring of mercenaries. Deception in Support of Clandestine Ministerial Efforts • Calvin’s Duplicitous Letter to Francis I As mentioned earlier, Calvin fled Paris and eventually France following Cop’s 1533 rectorial address. During his subsequent wanderings, he wrote the Institutio. He tells us that he wrote it in response to the events that transpired following the 1534 Affaire des Placards,54 specifically, the French authorities’ executing of eighteen evangelicals believed to have been behind the event and, thus, deemed agitators against King Francis I’s government. Calvin wrote the work to defend the faith of those who were put to death by Francis I’s government and to explain that evangelicals represent no danger to king or country. We can see this purpose worked out in at least two ways. First, Calvin used the preface to the Institutio,55 which takes the form of a dedicatory letter to Francis I dated 10 September 1535, to set out an apologia for the executed evangelicals (apparently a part of Marguerite’s evangelical network), with whom Calvin identified. Calvin protested, “we are wrongly charged with intentions of a sort as we have never even given the slightest suspicion. We,” so it is claimed by those who have the king’s ear, “are contriving the overthrow of kingdoms,” yet this is not so. Continuing his train of thought, he exclaimed: we from whom not one seditious word was ever heard and whose life, while passed under your reign, is known to have always been quiet and simple; and we now also, though exiled from our home, do not cease to pray for all prosperity for yourself and your kingdom.56 Insisting to the French king that he and his co-religionists were not politically- disruptive agitators, he sought to convince the monarch that their faith required them to honor and obey Francis and his government. This preface was reprinted in every Latin Institutio (1536, 1539, 1543, 1550, 1559) and French Institution (1541, 1545, 1551, 1560). Calvin was not, we might briefly note, haranguing the French king in this prefatory letter. His language was not vituperative but respectful; almost obsequious. He addressed the king with a form of what appears to have been the standard greeting: unreliability (CO 18: 732−34) and by December, Calvin and Beza would write a denunciatory missive to the king of Navarre (CO 19: 198−202). 54 For subsequent developments, William Monter, Judging the French Reformation: Heresy Trials by Sixteenth-Century Parlements (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999). 55 CO 1: 9−30. 56 CO 1: 25, italics mine. 13 TO THE MOST POWERFUL AND ILLUSTRIOUS MONARCH, FRANCIS, MOST CHRISTIAN KING OF THE FRENCH57 By comparison, Ulrich Zwingli’s greeting to Francis I in his 1525 De vera et falsa religione reads: “To the most Christian king of France, Francis, the first of that name.” Likewise, the Senates of Strasbourg and of Zurich both adopt essentially the same greeting in their missives to the French king.58 Second, Calvin set out in the body of the Institutio the character of the obedience owed to the king. He said authority over the civil realm is God-given (Romans 13) and, thus, compels obedience to the civil ruler. “One cannot resist the magistrate without simultaneously resisting God.”59 Calvin acknowledged that God had ordained an office of government, namely the popular magistrate who had been given a duty, having “been appointed to curb the tyranny of kings.” But Calvin insisted that that duty belonged solely to the holder of that office and private individuals must not engage in such activity or in any forms of active disobedience.60 The one occasion when individual Christians can (indeed, must) disobey a ruler’s command is when it requires them to violate God’s law. On such occasions, Calvin insisted active resistance was forbidden. The individual’s disobedience must be passive, taking the form of prayer, petition to the ruler, suffering persecution, or flight.61 What are we to make of all this? When we consider that after his flight from Paris in 1533, Calvin continued writing to encourage evangelicals in the country and that within a very short time—less than a year after signing the prefatory letter in September 1535—he was writing to Nicolas Duchemin and Gérard Roussel demanding in vehement language that they separate from the French Catholic church (in Duae Epistolae)62 and that in October 1536 he was 57 “POTENTISSIMO, ILLUSTRISSIMOQUE MONARCHAE, FRANCISCO, FRANCORUM REGI CHRISTIANISSIMO” (CO 1: 10−11). 58 Ulrich Zwingli, De vera et falsa religione, Huldrychi Zvinglij commentarius (Zurich: Froschower, 1525) n.p.. CO 10b: 57−61; 10b: 61−62. The Genevan Senate’s greeting to the Zurich senate is less effusive, CO 10b: 221−23. 59 CO 1: 243. 60 CO 1: 244−46. 61 CO 1: 246−48. For a good summary, John Witte, Jr., The Reformation of Rights; Law, Religion, and Human Rights in Early Modern Calvinism (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2007) 49−54. Most acknowledge Calvin’s later position on resistance changed somewhat but retained the restriction against active resistance; however, cf. Willem Nijenhuis, “The Limits of Civil Disobedience in Calvin’s Last-Known Sermons: Development of his Ideas on the Right of Civil Resistance,” in Ecclesia Reformata: Studies on the Reformation (2 vols.; Kerkhistorische Bijdragen 16; Leiden: Brill, 1994) 2: 73−94. 62 CO 5: 233−312. See, Cornelius Augustijn, Christoph Burger, Frans Pieter van Stam, “Calvin in the Light of the Early Letters,” in Calvinus Praeceptor Ecclesiae. Papers of the International Congress on Calvin Research, Princeton, August 20-24, 2002 (ed. Herman Selderhuis; Geneva: Droz, 2004) 139−57. 14 telling François Daniel that he was busy translating the Institutio into French63 (presumably to smuggle into France)—when, I say, we consider these things, we begin to see that Calvin wanted to present himself and his city as France’s obedient neighbor and to set up a system that allowed him to hide behind that presentation. This impression is only strengthened when we remember other works Calvin was soon to be engaged in, such as preparing Aulcuns pseaumes et cantiques mys, aimed (one can only assume) at supporting separate evangelical communities in France. I will go on to outline this system in a moment, but should comment first on a matter arising here. An obvious question that arises at this point concerns timing. Earlier, I outlined the character of Calvin and Beza’s ministry to France; a ministry that involved them in what can only be described as active disobedience; it goes beyond prayer, petition, persecution, or flight. I have also shown that Calvin insisted to Francis I in September 1535 that he and his fellow evangelicals were committed to never engaging in active forms of disobedience. But we may wonder here about timing. Am I suggesting that all the activities that Calvin (and later Beza) involved themselves in from 1536 until 1563 were actually being planned by Calvin when he was writing his 1535 preface? That would likely be impossible to demonstrate, and is (in fact) not what I have in mind. Yet, the short amount of time between his 1535 preface and his Duae Epistolae which he likely began writing from Ferrara in the first-half of 1536 (though not publish until early 1537)64 suggests the possibility that he may have had some ministerial plans for France in his head when writing his preface to Francis I in September 1535. But whether he did or not, he would proceed quickly to engage in active forms of disobedience once he had settled in Geneva. Stam contends Calvin’s views changed following the Lausanne Disputation (October 1536), and he may well be right.65 Whatever the case, the change was rapid. Let us now turn to examine the system Calvin designed and he and Beza implemented to hide Geneva’s clandestine French ministerial activities. • Geneva’s System for Hiding its French Ministry Calvin designed a system aimed at hiding Geneva’s French ministry. It sought to establish: Invisible (inconspicuous) communities Invisible communications Invisible movement of people 63 CO 10b: 62−64; Calvin to François Daniel, 3 October 1536 (Correspondance des Réformateurs dans les pays de langue française (ed. A. L. Herminjard; 9 vols.; Geneva: H. Georg, 1864−1897) 4: 86-91). 64 That Calvin began writing Duae Epistolae in Ferrara is persuasively argued by Paul Wernle, Calvin und Basel bis zum Tode des Myconius, 1535−1552 (Tübingen: J.C.B. Mohr, 1909) 8; see Alexandre Ganoczy, Le Jeune Calvin; genèse et évolution de sa vocation réformatrice (Wiesbaden: Franz Steiner, 1966), 311−14. 65 Frans Pieter van Stam, “The Group of Meaux as First Target of Farel and Calvin’s Anti-Nicodemism,” Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance 68/2 (2006) 253–75. 15 Invisible (inconspicuous) communities. Geneva sought to cloak the presence of Reformed conventicles in France, particularly in areas of high tension. One may legitimately assume that neither Calvin nor Beza wanted Calvinist communities to be completely invisible. Not only would that have been impossible, but it would also have been undesirable. They wanted true Christianity to spread in the cities, towns, and villages of France and this would necessitate contact with and ministry towards the local populations.66 Thus, they wanted not complete invisibility but French Calvinist communities to be unobtrusive; inconspicuous. Still, Calvin counselled some, apparently many, Calvinist conventicles to meet in secret in private homes.67 He spoke of the need to congregate, but warned vigorously against doing so openly. Of course, as it grew, the Reformed church became bolder. For instance, it petitioned the crown for the right to assemble. One such petition was made in response to the crown’s 16 March 1560 declaration of the king’s willingness to listen to one or several obedient subjects who brought their request to him (a declaration which effectively, according to Romier, granted permission to assemble, whether that was its intention or not).68 Nevertheless, as late as 1560, Geneva was encouraging Reformed bodies to meet in secret.69 The extent of this secrecy is difficult to assess, though it would seem to have been widespread. Calvin reported in 1558 that the number of the faithful in France was increasing “and in many places (plurimis in locis) secret meetings are held.”70 66 Reid discusses the factors that contributed to the forming and strengthening of evangelicalism and perceptively notes the detrimental role of Calvin’s leadership for the growth of Reformed churches in France, Reid, “French Evangelical Networks Before 1555,” 105-24. 67 On this, Kingdon, Geneva, 57; Henry Heller, The Conquest of Poverty: The Calvinist Revolt in Sixteenth Century France (Studies in Medieval and Reformation Thought 35; Leiden: Brill, 1986) 27-69; Herman Speelman, Calvin and the Independence of the Church (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 2014) 143-208. Tensions within France predate Calvinism; see Denis Crouzet, Les guerriers de Dieu. La violence au temps des troubles de religion, vers 1525 - vers 1610 (2 vols.; Seyssel: Champ Vallon, 1990) 1: 103−236; 2: 330−60, 428−64, 464−539. On clandestine Huguenot worship, Natalie Davis, “Printing and the People,” in Society and Culture in Early Modern France (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1975) 201−3 cited in Olson, “The Quest for Anonymity,” 35−36. 68 Lucien Romier, La Conjuration d'Amboise (Paris: Perrin, 1923) 167 as cited in Philip Benedict, “Qui étaient les députés? An Unknown Group of Protestant Leaders on the Eve of the First War of Religion,” in Social Relations, Politics, and Power in Early Modern France: Robert Descimon and the Historian's Craft (ed. Barbara Diefendorf; Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2016) 158−83, esp. 161. 69 CO 18: 64−66. Also letters to churches in Poitou (CO 15: 222-4 (3 September 1554)), Angers (CO 15: 756-58 (9 September 1555)), Loudun (CO 15: 758−60 (9 September 1555)). Calvin complains to Bullinger (CO 18: 175−77 (6 September 1560)) that French churches were not following Geneva’s instructions in this regard. See also, Beza, Hist Eccl 1: 66−7. 70 CO 17: 311−2. 16 The surprise here, of course—and one of the things that intimates that Calvin’s actions and decisions were being governed by a deliberate and crafted plan rather than a principled conviction—is that he lambasted the Nicodemites for doing precisely what he was instructing French Calvinist communities to do, namely, hide. “Our Lord is not content,” he said to the Nicodemites, “if we acknowledge him secretly and in our hearts, but he strictly requires us to confess him publicly by an external profession that we are his.”71 Meanwhile his word to the Reformed church in Montélimart was that he and Beza had learned: that you are considering establishing the public preaching of the word. We ask you to put away that idea and not to think about it until God provide you with a better opportunity. . . . When you hold your meetings peaceably in private homes, the rage of the wicked will not be easily enflamed.72 To the faithful at Poitiers: I wrote to you a while ago pointing out the means I approve of for defeating the malice of your enemies: it is that in order not to expose yourselves needlessly you should plan not to gather the whole congregation together, but instead assemble in small groups, now in one place and now in another.73 Continuing, he urged the believers in Poitiers to make their homes available for this purpose. Such instructions provide a glimpse into Calvin’s mind and ministerial machinations. This desire for a kind of invisibility for the French Calvinist conventicles also seems, I would contend, to have been part of what was behind Calvin and Beza’s dissuading of them from engaging in iconoclasm, rioting, and vandalism. The fact that Les Eglises réformées en France were involved in such behavior could only have been viewed by Geneva as frustrating and problematic. Here I concur with Kingdon’s comments on Calvin’s “political shrewdness” in relation to Geneva’s constant decrying of riotous activity. Kingdon asserted that “here we see again, . . . that Calvin’s scruples had a practical base.” In other words, Calvin and Beza’s disapprobation of such practices was founded on the fact that such practices “may inflame public opinion without profitable result.”74 To be sure, Calvin and Beza may have also considered such behavior ungodly. Yet when their encouragement to meet secretly is considered along with their word against rioting, we begin to see 71 CO 6: 544. 72 CO 18: 66. 73 CO 15: 754−6. 74 Kingdon, Geneva, 111−2. E.g. to the church of Paris (CO 18: 376- 78 (26 February 1561)); the consistory of Sauve (CO 18: 580−1 (July 1561; date disputed)); Beza (CO 19: 120−2 (19 November 1561)). Eire, War against the Idols; Olivier Christin, Une revolution symbolique. L’iconoclasme Huguenot et la reconstruction catholique (Paris: Minuit, 1991). 17 more clearly that they earnestly desired the Calvinist communities in France to keep a low profile, flying (as it were) below the government’s radar. Invisible communications: Taking up the subject of communication, we find a division of labor at work. Beza visited France, but did not write French Reformed communities.75 Calvin wrote them, but did not visit. Communications were, it seems very likely, orchestrated by Calvin. Beza and others were sent as emissaries from Geneva and did not visit French churches of their own accord. When communicating with an array of individuals associated with the French Reformed conventicles (both members of the nobility and private citizens), Geneva put in place measures designed to minimize risk by cloaking identities and other sensitive pieces of information. Regarding communications through books, this cloaking took a particular form. Calvin helped establish a book smuggling venture, which he supported without being involved on a day- to-day basis.76 He was friends with Laurent de Normandy, one of the most important men in French publishing through whom Calvin influenced significant portions of the French market. Geneva funded Normandy’s publishing, illegal trade, use of colporteurs, and suchlike through the Bourse française, a fund established around 1550 to cover a wide array of expenses related to the poor.77 Through this mechanism, Geneva was able to provided French Calvinist communities with treatises, tracts, scriptural commentaries, and other pamphlets without detection by the authorities.78 The Genevans used emissaries to convey messages to members of the French nobility sympathetic to the Reformed cause. In writing to Sulzer in October of 1560 to say that the King of Navarre remained silent, Calvin added “our Beza is with him.”79 A letter of Calvin to Sturm, written in November 1560, explains that François Hotman had gone to visit the King of Navarre to urge 75 Between 1558 and 1563, Beza wrote a myriad of individuals including French noblemen and women. He also wrote from France back to Calvin. But he did not write to Églises réformées. 76 On the European publishing industry, Jean-François Gilmont, John Calvin and the Printed Book (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2005) 275-6; Andrew Pettegree, “Books, Pamphlets, and Polemic,” in The Reformation World (ed. Andrew Pettegree; London: Routledge, 2000) 120−1. 77 Henri Grandjean, “La bourse française de Genève (1550-1849),” in Etrennes Genevoises (Geneva: Atar, 1927) 46−60; Jeannine Olson, Calvin and Social Welfare: Deacons and the Bourse française (Cranbury, N.J.: Susquehanna University Press, 1989) 70−91; 168−82; eadem, “The Mission to France,” 344−57; eadem, “The Quest for Anonymity,” 33−56. It is mentioned in letters, CO 13: 149−52 and CO 14: 723−4. 78 E.g. Duae Epistolae (CO 5: 239−312), Petit traicté (CO 6: 537−88), Traicté des reliques, (CO 6: 405−52), Articuli a facultate sacrae theologiae Parisiensi … Cum antidoto (CO 7: 1−44), Excuse à Messieurs les Nicodémites (CO 6: 589−614), and Contre la secte phantastique et furieuse des Libertins (CO 7: 145−248). On the circulation of literature, Lire et découvrir: la circulation des idées au temps de la Réforme (ed. Francis Higman; Geneva: Droz, 1998), 131−54. See as well e.g. Calvin writing about a French translation of his De Scandalis being produced (CO 13: 654−7). 79 CO 18: 202–4, esp. 204. 18 him to do more for the gospel in France.80 Beza, moreover, travelled to Nérac in the summer of 1560, staying three months and preaching and counselling Antoine and his younger brother, Louis of Condé. Beza journeyed to Paris in 1561 to appear before the young Charles IX and Catherine. Beza also, as already mentioned, attended the Colloquy of Poissy. Beza’s travels during these years resulted in his becoming acquainted with important noblemen and women, including the young Henry, prince of Navarre, who would become king Henry IV, and also Henry’s mother, Jeanne d’Albret, the wife of Antoine. Beza exchanged letters with her for years.81 Given the nature of personal contact, this communication could be accomplished without leaving dangerous paper-trails behind, thus preserving the secrecy of the ministry. Epistolary correspondence with French churches belonged to Calvin. He employed trusted messengers for delivery. His missives are punctuated with remarks about distrusting a messenger or awaiting a trustworthy one.82 Of course, the letters could have proven extremely damaging and dangerous to their addressees if they fell into the wrong hands. To provide just one example: Calvin wrote to the King of Navarre on 16 January 1561, urging him to use his influence to sway the regent, Catherine de’Medici.83 Thus, safe delivery was essential. In their correspondences, Calvin (and Beza too) employed code words, nicknames, and innuendo. Early nicknames used include “Megaera” (Roussel) and “Pylades” (unknown).84 This practice can be seen in greater detail, for instance, in relation to the Amboise Conspiracy of 17 March 1560 proposed by La Renaudie. Both Calvin and Beza showed interest in it.85 Calvin wrote Bullinger about it in a letter dated 5 October 1559, speaking about Beza having 80 CO 18: 231–2. See also CO 17: 576−8. 81 Beza, Correspondance 4: 91; 4: 243; 6: 313; 7: 281; 8: 32, 34, and 218; 10: 72; see Manetsch, Theodore Beza, 20. 82 E.g. CO 14: 27–8; CO 17: 652–3. 83 CO 18: 311–12. 84 CO 10b: 27, Calvin to François Daniel, 31 October 1533 (Herminjard, Correspondance 3: 106–11, esp. 107), see the explanatory note in John Sturm’s mid-October 1533 letter to Martin Bucer, Herminjard, Correspondance 3: 93–95, esp. 94 n.7. CO 12: 295, Calvin to François Daniel, 27 June 1531 (Herminjard, Correspondance 2: 346–8, esp. 347 n. 5). Plyades may be a family name. 85 Calvin’s opposition appeared quite late, see May 1560 letter to Bullinger, CO 18: 83–85; see also, CO 18: 425–31. Henri Naef, La Conjuration d’Amboise et Genève (Geneva: Jullien, 1922) 462–3; Kingdon, Geneva, 68-78; idem, “Calvin and Calvinists on Resistance to Government,” in Calvinus Evangelii Propugnator, 54–65. See also, a letter dated 16 April 1561 from Calvin to Admiral de Coligny, in which Calvin, speaking of the Amboise Conspiracy, says that “if the Princes of the Blood wished to be maintained in their rights for the common good and if the Parliament joined them in their fight, then it would be lawful for all good subjects to support their efforts (prêter main forte, given the context likely means something like “give them armed support”)” (CO 18: 426). DeCrue interprets Calvin too cautiously; see DeCrue, L’action politique de Calvin, 47–52. Sensu lato, Beza, Hist Eccl 1: 164-74, Histoire et Dictionnaire (ed. Jouanna), 52−69. 19 gone to Strasbourg on a work “of great significance” that concerns us and “is being undertaken by certain persons.”86 In another example, when speaking of their September 1560 plot involving Antoine of Navarre, Calvin and Beza spoke of Antoine as “Fervidus.”87 In a third example, during 1561 and into 1562, the Reformed churches experienced enormous growth which Calvin mentions in several letters to inter alia Georgio Tammero and Bullinger.88 In these letters, Calvin is still complaining about Antoine of Navarre, whom he and Beza are now referring to as “Julian;” a reference to Julian the Apostate.89 In addition to these measures, Calvin employed a number of pseudonyms90 throughout his life. Here I am not thinking of the time Calvin had a 1545 work entitled Pro Farrello et collegis eius adversus Petri Caroli calumnias defensio Nicolai Galasii published under the name of Nicolas Des Gallars91—something which he did (he explains in letters to Pierre Viret) in order to produce the impression of greater objectivity so that it would appear Des Gallars was defending Calvin and Farel in their ongoing dispute with Caroli.92 Rather, I am thinking of the many times Calvin signed a contrived name to one of his letters. Beza, incidentally, would employ pseudonyms occasionally in the 1570s: “Wolfgang Prisbach” when publishing Responsio ad orationem habitam super in concilio Helvetiorum and “Nathanael Nesekius” in his work Adversus sacramentariorum errorem pro vera Christi praesentia in coena Domini homiliae duae.93 Calvin, however, employed them for the majority of his life. Calvin used numerous pseudonyms including: Charles D’Espeville (with variations on the spelling of the surname), Martinus Lucanius, Carolus Passelius, Alcuinus, Lucanius, Deperçan, and Bonneville. A fine discussion of this is found in Doumergue.94 He employed a pseudonym when writing to those in France far more often than to those living elsewhere. In fact, when sending letters into France, pseudonym-usage was a fairly-consistent pattern for him. 86 CO 17: 654–6. 87 CO 18: 177–80, a letter to Beza of 10 September 1560; also CO 18: 176–78 and Beza, Correspondance 3: 63–70. 88 CO 19: 325–6 and CO 19: 326-9, respectively. 89 CO 19: 297–302; letter of 26 February 1562 from Beza to Calvin. 90 James Daybell, The Material Letter in Early Modern England; Manuscript Letters and the Culture and Practice of Letter-Writing, 1512- 1635 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012) and Visual Cultures of Secrecy in Early Modern Europe (ed. Timothy McCall, et al.; Kirksville, MO: Truman State University, 2013). 91 CO 7: 289–340. 92 CO 12: 100–1, 107–8. 93 See Beza, Correspondance 14: 88, 95. I am grateful to Scott Manetsch for this information. For more see, Manetsch, Theodore Beza, 57– 8. 94 Doumergue, “Pseudonymie de Calvin,” Jean Calvin, Appendices VIII, 558–73. Also; Christian Sigismund Liebe, Diatribe de pseudonymia Jo. Calvini (Amsterdam: Apud Wetstenios, 1723); Blacketer, “No Escape,” 284– 5; Kate Tunstall, “‘You’re Either Anonymous or You’re Not!’: Variations on Anonymity in Modern and Early Modern Culture,” Modern Language Notes 126/4 (2011) 671–88 and the literature cited therein. 20 The frequency with which he employed them is too great to demonstrate here. He seems to have preferred Charles D’Espeville over other names. He also received letters addressed to his pseudonyms. For instance, during his travels, Beza wrote back to Geneva on March 31, 1563 to Monsieur Desperville.95 The earliest appearance I have found of one of Calvin’s pseudonyms is in a letter from Wolfgang Capito to Martianus Lucanius (i.e. Calvin) which Herminjard reckons was written towards the end of 1534.96 He published some versions of the 1536 Institutio anonymously and the 1539 Latin Institutio under the pseudonym Alcuinus, but overwhelmingly the focus of his use of pseudonyms was France. What is particularly impressive here—and what carries us some way further towards seeing the deliberate craft and planning behind his ministry model—is the fact that the contents of many of Calvin’s pseudonym-signed letters reveal no clear reason why he should wish to withhold his name from them. Quite frequently these missives simply discussed spiritual matters. He wrote to encourage some; to warn others; to counsel and direct. He did not, in many of these letters, discuss things that were provocative. But he withheld his name, nonetheless. Calvin used false names not only when writing to the Queen of Navarre, the Duchess of Ferrara, or French Calvinist ministers but also when addressing Madame de Cany or Madame de Pons—individual believers with whom he was friends.97 When these cloaking measures did not work, as was apparently the case with some of Calvin’s letters on which he had signed his actual name rather than a pseudonym, the letters would need to be culled. Beza was forced into doing this after Calvin’s death, with the aim of removing potentially compromising details which could be seen by others if the letters in question were published. The precise character of the material—whether it was legal, moral, or political matters—that Beza wanted to hide, we do not know. But Beza sought, after Calvin’s demise, to remove compromising letters from the public domain. He wrote to Bullinger in 1565 requesting that he send back missives which Calvin had written to the Zurich minister. He then wrote again on 16 March 1568 offering to send someone to go collect these letters from the Zuricher. Then, in a letter from 5 April 1568, Bullinger wrote to Beza explaining that he had dispatched the letters of Calvin which Beza had requested.98 The effort was perhaps an exercise in reputation-protection or perhaps something more—but whatever the case, it reveals to some degree the level of secrecy they felt they required for their work. Invisible movement of People. Calvin and Beza employed various measures in order to send the preachers they trained into France in a way that would ensure their safety and minimize the likelihood of detection and capture. They sent them into France under assumed names, carrying false identities, forged papers, 95 Beza, Correspondance 4: 132–3. 96 CO 10b: 45−6 (Herminjard, Correspondance 3: 242−5). 97 E.g. CO 15: 193−5; CO 15: 144−7. See Charmarie Jenkins Blaisdell, “Calvin’s Letters to Women: The Courting of Ladies in High Places,” Sixteenth Century Journal 13/3 (1982) 67−84. 98 Beza, Correspondance 6: 142; Beza, Correspondance 9: 57. On the incident, Benedict, “The Dynamics of Protestant Militancy,” 39−40. 21 clandestine meetings. They took obscure mountain passages in order to avoid the authorities along the border. Kingdon describes those who could still identify the network of paths for pastors coming into France used more recently during World War II. An alternative to using these paths was to attempt to pass oneself off as a merchant when confronted by the authorities through the use of fake documents. Estimates of the number dispatched between the years 1556 and 1562 vary between 88 and more than 200.99 So, then, Calvin and later Beza established a system which sought to cloak the presence of Calvinist communities in France, mask communications between them and Geneva, and hide the movement of people between France and Geneva. They did this to conceal their ministry to France behind the crafted image of Geneva as France’s obedient neighbor. In fact, Geneva was during the 1540s, 1550s, and 1560s becoming less and less obedient. They were, in addition to what we have been considering, growing increasingly critical of French kings. One finds Calvin (for instance) declaiming, in his lectures, that they are “gross and stupid”100 they “think they are exempt from the law.”101 They are self-indulgent,102 “inhuman tyrants” and “madmen.”103 They “despise everything divine” and wish to be worshipped in God’s place.104 They “rage against the church.”105 “We know that wherever there is cunning in the world, it reigns especially in the palaces of princes.”106 These are all quotations from Calvin’s praelectiones about which J. T. McNeill has rightly noted, “we may sometimes discern an allegory of French affairs of the times.”107 Thus, the 99 Kingdon, Geneva, 5, 33, 38−40, appendices 1-3; Didier Boisson and Hugues Daussy, Les protestants dans la France moderne (Paris: Éditions Belin, 2006) 61; Jon Balserak, Establishing the Remnant Church in France; Calvin's Lectures on the Minor Prophets, 1556-1559 (Brill’s Series in Church History 50; Leiden: Brill, 2011). See the excellent summary in Ray Mentzer, “Calvin and France,” in Calvin Handbook (Grand Rapids: Eerdmans 2009) 78−87. This was discussed in letters, e.g. CO 18: 467; and 19: 224−6. On the question of whether Geneva kept a list of French churches needing pastors, see Peter Wilcox, “L’envoi des pasteurs aux Eglises de France: trois listes établies par Colladon (1561-1562),” Bulletin de la Société de l’histoire du protestantisme français 139 (1993) 347−374; also, Karin Maag, “Recruiting and training pastors: the Genevan model and alternative approaches,” in Revisiting Geneva: Robert Kingdon and the Coming of the French Wars of Religion (ed. S.K. Barker; St Andrews Studies in French History and Culture; St Andrews: University of St Andrews, 2012) 10−22. On dangers these ministers encountered, CO 42: 296; CO 44: 226. 100 CO 41: 3. 101 CO 44: 16. 102 CO 38: 385. 103 CO 38: 387. 104 CO 41: 7. 105 CO 44: 151. 106 CO 40: 540. 107 John T. McNeill, “Editor’s Introduction,” in Calvin; On God and Political Duty (New York: Macmillan, 1950) xx. Also see Max Engammare (“Calvin monarchomaque? Du soupçon à l’argument,” Archiv für 22 depiction of obsequious deference and obedience on the part of Geneva towards France was, in reality, a façade. • Lying as a Fail-Safe But sometimes the smokescreen did not manage to hide all it was supposed to. Though the Genevan system hid much of its ministry to France, there was at least one occasion when more desperate measures needed to be taken. On 27 January 1561, a special courier of the new king of France, Charles IX, was sent to Geneva to deliver a letter from the young king.108 It aimed to inquire about two matters; first, the fact that preachers had been entering France having been sent by Geneva; and second, the problem of dissension and sedition which had been troubling France recently—a concern related specifically to plots like the Amboise Conspiracy. The king wanted all the preachers to be recalled and no more to be sent. He also wanted an end to the dissension. He requested a reply to his demands. Geneva’s reply was penned by Calvin. It spoke for the Genevan government and ministers. The letter notes the “smallness of our state” and speaks of the devotedness which Geneva has “always and for a long time displayed” to the king and to “your predecessors.” It speaks of their persistence in working for “the tranquillity and prosperity of your kingdom.” The Genevan’s letter then, somewhat self-consciously, asserts: “But in case it should seem, sire, that under this general expression of our sentiments we wish to conceal anything, we protest . . .”109 after which the letter goes on to answer the two concerns. On the first count, Calvin protested “in truth before God” that Geneva has “never attempted to send persons into your kingdom.”110 Explaining matters further, the letter declared: that never with our knowledge and permission has someone gone from here to preach except one individual who was requested from us for the city of London.111 At this point, the missive becomes somewhat opaque. Adopting much more deliberately the voice of the Syndics and Council of Geneva, the letter explains that some of the language in the king’s communication was slightly ambiguous but may have been referring to “our ministers and pastors.” Therefore, the Genevan letter continues, these ministers were summoned and asked about the charges. The letter then reports that they: do not deny that some persons have made application to them, and that on their part, when they have found that those who had recourse to them were persons possessing instruction and piety, they have exhorted them Reformationsgeschichte 89 (1998) 207−26) and Balserak (John Calvin as Sixteenth-century Prophet, 152−65) on Geneva’s harshness towards French kings. 108 For the king’s letter, CO 18: 337−9. 109 CO 18: 343. 110 CO 18: 343−5, esp. 343; also note, Kingdon, Geneva, 35. 111 CO 18: 344. The man was Nicolas Des Gallars. 23 to exercise their gifts wherever they should go for the advancement of the gospel.112 So then, the Genevan ministers say they encouraged some people to exercise their gifts everywhere. There is, however, the clear implication that that was all they did. The explanation would appear to wish to persuade the king that what he has heard of as Geneva sending ministers into his kingdom is actually a simple case of free preachers and godly men wandering of their own free will into the king’s territory. One presumes that Calvin inserted this into the letter because it both offers a more believable explanation for the presence of preachers in France (more believable than if Calvin had simply said Geneva had no idea what the king was talking about) and also exonerates the Genevan ministers of wrongdoing. On the second count, the letter explained that the Genevans “protest against having ever entertained any such intention” to stir up dissension and sedition. They “have never given advice to make any innovations or attempted anything criminal with respect to the established order of the state.” Further, they insisted, “we have given orders and forbidden on pain of rigorous punishments any of our citizens from taking one step in such proceedings.”113 The answers to both concerns are, according to Calvin and Beza’s own Augustinian understanding of lying, plainly speech contra mentem. They did send preachers into France and they were involved in dissensions of precisely the kind about which the king was asking. Their lying is less egregious but still discernible in another portion of the missive. In one part of it, a specific note is struck about Geneva’s work of spreading the gospel and also about the boundaries within which Geneva believes it must confine itself. After indicating that the Genevans, of course, wish and hope for the gospel to be spread everywhere, the letter states: But we know well also what is within our compass, and we do not presume even to wish to reform extensive kingdoms.114 The accent on desire (“we do not presume even to wish”) appears throughout this letter and was seen in Calvin’s Institutio preface too. What is fascinating here is the apparent renouncing, on the part of the Genevans, of any connection to the evangelical movement within France or anywhere else. They would seem to wish for the king to believe that Geneva stays resolutely and quietly within its own geographical border and does not meddle in the work of reforming other parts of Europe, let alone France. In all of this, Geneva kept up a near-constant state of deception in regards to the French king and his government. In some ways, Charles IX’s query appears all the more intriguing because it was raised so late (1561) relative to the amount of time during which Geneva had been ministering in France—a fact which would seem to give credence to the idea that Geneva was extremely effective at feigning obedience to French kings. 112 CO 18: 344. 113 CO 18: 344. 114 CO 18: 344. 24 Conclusion In Beza’s letter of 22 January 1561 to Ambroise Blaurer, he spoke about the Lord’s blessing in the growth of Les Eglises réformées en France. Without wishing to challenge his asseveration, this article explored other ostensible sources of that growth. What it discovered was that one such source may well have been calculated trickery. It argued that Calvin designed Geneva’s ministry to France in such a way that it systematically employed falsehood and dissembling to hide what they were doing from the French authorities and probably from the Nicodemites as well. Indeed, their ministry was, by their own standards of honesty, as mendacious as that of the Nicodemites. Why would they do this? It is very tempting, at this point, to speculate that part of their willingness was related to the presence of Nicodemism in France. Being in the country, the Nicodemites were at a distinct advantage compared with Calvin and Beza. They had a level of contact with the French population of which Beza and Calvin could only dream. The Genevans, therefore, employed subterfuge as a way of getting their gospel past the French authorities and into France. Had they not, they would potentially have had to watch from the outside as the Nicodemites gained greater control over the French evangelical church. This reading of the matter would also help explain the harshness of Geneva’s treatment of the Nicodemites. They wanted to make sure Christians in France did not see Nicodemism as a viable Christian option, but because they were not in the country they felt compelled to raise their voice and speak with unmistakable vehemence and intensity about the unacceptability of the Nicodemite gospel—this would likely have only been accentuated by the relative kindness shown the Genevans by the Nicodemites.115 Thus, Calvin and Beza pursued morally-opprobrious methods because they felt they had no other option if they were to overcome the obstacles to evangelizing France. These are, I must reiterate, speculative reflections and require more attention if they are to be confirmed. What we can say with a stronger degree of certainty is that Geneva established a system designed to hide their ministry and that, thus, Geneva’s impact on France and the French Reformation was founded, in no small measure, on deception during the period from 1536 to 1563. Can one comment on other reasons? Given their Augustinian views on mendacity, it still stands as something of a mystery why Calvin and Beza would ever employ deception. Musing, we might, for instance, consider whether their use of deception was motivated by a belief that the French government was illegitimate116 (and therefore could be lied to with impunity). Taking a different approach, we might wonder to what extent their motivations are explained by lines from Bertolt Brecht’s A Measure Taken. What meanness would you not commit, to Stamp out meanness? If, at last, you could change the world, what 115 Nicodemites expressed hurt and frustration at Geneva’s harshness but generally exhibited a desire for cooperation; Reid, King's Sister – Queen of Dissent, 1: 30; 2: 563. 116 See Balserak, John Calvin as Sixteenth-century Prophet, 152–65. 25 Would you think yourself too good for?117 The sentiment expressed in these words cannot, to be sure, be applied to this situation without caveat, and yet I wonder if there is not something we can glean from it. Might it have possibly been that Calvin and Beza were driven by a sub- conscious or semi-conscious conviction that their gospel was simply too true to be allowed to remain outside of their homeland. This intense conviction, if that is what it was, could have moved them to set aside moral norms, hence preparing the way for their use of deception. Whatever the case, Geneva’s systematic employment of falsehood and dissembling far from making Calvin and Beza harder to understand would seem to me to make them more comprehensible; or, at the very least, more profoundly human. 117 Cited from Zagorin, Ways of Lying, vi. 
work_2t4ypvns7be7lgoquav7dw4v2e	----	The hands of Donald Trump Entertainment, gesture, spectacle: Entertainment, gesture, spectacle: HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory: Vol 6, No 2 Skip to main content SearchSearch This journal Anywhere Quick Search in JournalsSearchSearch Quick Search anywhereSearchSearch Advanced Search Log in | Register Access provided by Carnegie Mellon University Skip main navigationmenuDrawerCloseTextmenuDrawerOpenTextHome Subscribe/renew Institutions Individual subscriptions Recommend to your library Purchase back issues Browse issues All issues Online sample issue For contributors Submit manuscript Author guidelines Publication ethics Editorial policies Authors' rights Open access at Chicago Obtaining permissions About About HAU Editorial team Contact the editorial team Abstracting and indexing Advertise in HAU HomeHAU: Journal of Ethnographic TheoryVolume 6, Number 2 Previous article Next article Free The hands of Donald Trump Entertainment, gesture, spectacle Kira Hall,  Donna M. Goldstein, and  Matthew Bruce Ingram Kira Hall University of Colorado Boulder Search for more articles by this author , Donna M. Goldstein University of Colorado Boulder Search for more articles by this author , and Matthew Bruce Ingram University of Texas at Austin Search for more articles by this author University of Colorado BoulderUniversity of Colorado BoulderUniversity of Texas at Austin Abstract Full Text PDF EPUB MOBI Add to favorites Download Citations Track Citations Permissions Reprints Share on Facebook Twitter Linked In Reddit Email QR Code Sections More Abstract Commentators from a broad range of perspectives have been at pains to explain Donald Trump’s transition from billionaire businessman to populist presidential candidate. This article draws on cultural anthropology, linguistic anthropology, and rhetorical theory to argue that the success of Trump’s candidacy in the 2016 Republican primary was in part due to its value as comedic entertainment. We examine the ways that Trump’s unconventional political style, particularly his use of gesture to critique the political system and caricature his opponents, brought momentum to his campaign by creating spectacle. Post-structuralist and neo-Marxist scholars have asserted that late capitalism values style over content: Trump took this characteristic to new heights. The exaggerated depictions of the sociopolitical world that Trump crafts with his hands to oppose political correctness and disarm adversaries accrue visual capital in a mediatized twenty-first-century politics that is celebrity driven. Les mains de Donald Trump: Entertainment, gestuelle et spectacle Résumé: La transition, opérée par Donald Trump, d’homme d’affaire à candidat présidentiel populiste a laissé plus d’un commentateur perplexe. Cet article s’appuie sur les outils de l’anthropologie culturelle, linguistique et sur la théorie réthorique pour suggérer que le succès de la candidature de Trump tient en partie à sa valeur en tant que forme de grand divertissement comique. Nous examinons notamment la manière dont le style politique hors norme de Trump, son utilisation de la gestuelle pour critiquer le système politique et caricaturer ses opposants donnèrent un élan à sa campagne en la rendant spectaculaire. Des théoriciens poststructuralistes et néo-marxistes ont soutenu que le capitalisme tardif valorise le style au dépend du contenu: Trump donne un nouveau souffle à cette tendance. Le portrait-charge du monde sociopolitique que dessinent les gestes de Trump lorsqu’il s’attaque au politiquement correct ou lorsqu’il tente de désarmer ses adversaires, crée du capital visuel dans un univers politique contemporain médiatisé et sous-tendu par la célébrité. Donald Trump Jr.’s description of his father as a “blue-collar billionaire” during the 2016 Republican primary season highlighted a contradiction that has puzzled commentators on both sides of the political spectrum since the beginning of Trump’s rise in the election polls: How does a businessman situated in the uppermost tier of American wealth capture the allegiance of the working classes? Academics, journalists, and other writers have been at pains to explain the early pollster finding that a billionaire developer became the favored choice of a population whose economic interests differed radically from his own. Linguist George Lakoff (2016) attributes Trump’s popularity among conservatives to his projection of a moral universe that valorizes punishment and individualism and thus resonates with a “Strict Father worldview.” Anthropologist Tanya Luhrmann (2016) draws from ethnographic scholarship on religion to explain Trump’s appeal among followers as having less to do with political anger than with the contribution that Trump’s taboo-violating behavior offers to “religious imagination.” Sociologist Arlie Russell Hochschild (2016) narrates the ways that Tea Party supporters are motivated by a sense of unfairness in a time of economic stagnation. J. D. Vance (2016), bestselling author of Hillbilly elegy, explains Trump’s appeal among impoverished white Appalachians as based in a concern with gun ownership in a destitute environment that denies rural populations other forms of political agency. As the November 2016 national election nears, commentators remain puzzled as to how a class of struggling wage earners, as Trump’s base is often described, came to accept the populist discourse of a man who called the money he received from his father in 1978 to start his career a “small loan of a million dollars.” Our analysis of Trump’s rise in the 2016 Republican primary season suggests that a focus on economic distance between Trump and his voting base is misguided. Not only is Trump’s reach apparently much broader than initially suggested in pollster and media assessments (Silver 2016), his historical uniqueness as the Republican presidential nominee lies not in wealth but in lack of political experience. We argue, in contrast to these accounts, that Trump’s campaign to become the Republican nominee was successful because it was, in a word, entertaining—not just for the white rural underclass, not just for conservatives, but also for the public at large, even those who strongly oppose his candidacy. Whether understood as pleasing or offensive, Trump’s ongoing show was compelling. Our analysis thus refrains from defining segments of the population as economically, socially, or psychologically vulnerable to Trump’s messaging and instead explores why we are all vulnerable. Many good analyses offer insights on Trump’s popular appeal, and we draw on some of these discussions here. But we believe it is also important to consider the specifics of Trump’s entertainment value—that is, how Trump’s comedic media appearances over the course of the Republican primary season built momentum in a celebrity and mediatized culture. Social scientists and humanities scholars from both neo-Marxist and poststructuralist perspectives have long asserted that late capitalism values style over content. Trump’s rising popularity during his journey from candidate to Republican presidential nominee provides a strong example of this claim. Scholars in a variety of fields have considered entertainment as a value by positioning it as key to comprehending class relations. Historian Peter Burke (1978) highlights the role of entertainers such as ballad singers, jugglers, puppet masters, and comedians among the peasantry in the sixteenth through eighteenth centuries. He offers the important insight that these performers, by attracting the attention of audiences across the class spectrum, enabled mutual permeability between elite and popular culture. Similarly, philosopher and literary critic Mikhael Bakhtin’s (1984) Stalin-era writings on the French Renaissance novelist Rabelais illuminate the power of carnivalesque entertainment: fools and clowns subvert the social order through acts of parody, poking vulgar fun at the mystique of political rulers and stirring rebellion in their audiences. Anthropologist Anton Blok (2001) draws from these discussions to develop a structuralist argument regarding the historical significance of a broad category of “infamous occupations” that includes criminals as well as entertainers. For Blok, the position held by reviled professionals in times of political transition is paradoxical: “liminal and out of place, defining and credited with magical power, marginalized and yet part of the community, despised and indispensable” (Blok 2001: 65). Once Peter Stallybrass and Allon White (1986) extended Bakhtin’s carnivalesque to broader modes of cultural and class analysis, entertainment became a common anthropological trope for examining contestations of social hierarchy in everyday life, particularly with respect to humor, joking, and laughter. These examples reveal how street performers, clowns, criminals, or jokers may become popular—and valuable—precisely because of their skill at entertaining. In the liminal space of comedic entertainment, distinct identities of “high” and “low” culture may remain in the interpretation of verbal and gestural form, but viewers laugh, even if not for the same reason. Humorous performance, as Erving Goffman (1959, 1961) once argued, is protected from the scrutiny that would be applied in other discursive domains (cf. Chun 2004; Jaffe 2000). In this sense, humor functions as a kind of containment strategy (Irvine 2011; Fleming and Lempert 2011), enabling its users to invoke taboo topics without breaching the norms that define these topics as toxic (Goldstein [2003] 2013). Although some audiences may interpret particular forms of entertainment as bad taste, it is also seen as bad taste to critique a fun-loving enterprise. It is hard to critique a clown: we are too busy laughing. We must therefore consider the protective benefits of entertainment value: entertainers have license to disobey rules. As anthropologists have long known, liminal spaces of time and affect such as carnival are special in that rules of ordinary everyday life do not apply. Yet even if carnival suspends social rules temporarily, its subversive potential is often lost in the return to everyday life: at the end of the day, it may preserve the very class, race, and gender values it inverts while in motion (Goldstein [2003] 2013; Scheper-Hughes 1992). Entertainment involves a densely mediatized apparatus that early scholarship on carnival did not consider, but in this sense it is similar. Drawing on cultural anthropology, linguistic anthropology, and rhetorical theory, we consider how Trump elevates his entertainment value by crafting comedic representations of his political opponents as well as himself. These representations take the form of a kind of embodied performance primarily discussed by scholars studying gesture. Characterized by several interrelated terms that include bodily quoting (Keevallik 2010), transmodal stylizations (Goodwin and Alim 2010), full body enactments (Mittelberg 2013), gestural reenactments (Sidnell 2006), and pantomime (Streeck 2008a), these bodily acts involve the dramaturgical replaying of an actual or imagined event, action, or behavior (cf. Goffman 1974), often by assuming another’s alleged subjectivity. They are most clearly seen in Trump’s impersonations of political opponents at campaign rallies. Through the use of gestural methods, Trump metonymically reduces others to laughable portrayals while elevating himself. During the Republican primaries, some of Trump’s more notorious gestural enactments—as we call them here—included contorted wrist and facial movements when rebuking a disabled reporter; downward hand chops and sidewise throat slices to convey how ISIS has treated American citizens; and a slumped torso with closed eyes to depict Republican competitor Jeb Bush. Many of these enactments were repeated across multiple campaign speeches and became emblems of the political persona that Trump presented to his electorate. The media’s conflicted response to the social meaning of these bodily displays, together with Trump’s easy deniability of what he intended by them, suggests that comedic gesture may accomplish ideological work that exceeds even what can be conveyed in the already protected category of verbal humor. Trump’s enactments received unprecedented attention during the Republican primaries by inspiring countless news discussions, video compilations, and comedy skits, many of which we reviewed for the writing of this article. Together we observed twenty-seven hours of video data to make the claims expressed here, with nineteen of those hours coming from campaign speeches delivered in sixteen different locations. Perhaps one answer to why Trump’s behavior appears atypical for a presidential candidate is that it deviates from the gestural prescriptivism that has dominated the American political arena. For instance, Jürgen Streeck’s (2008b) analysis of gestures used by Democratic presidential candidates during the 2004 primary season reveals that candidates avoided using pictorially oriented depictive gestures (also called iconics in McNeill’s [1992] taxonomy). For Streeck, this avoidance invites comparison with prescriptions articulated by Roman orator Quintilian in the first century CE, who characterized gestures that provide visual displays as theatrical and lacking rhetorical gravitas. What are acceptable for use by the rhetorician are what gesture scholars sometimes call interactive or pragmatic gestures (Bavelas et al. 1992; Kendon 2004), hand movements such as beats or points that do not depict the social world but rather accentuate or illustrate the rhetorical structure of a speech. As Robin Tolmach Lakoff (1992) suggests in her analysis of George H. W. Bush’s transition to a limited set of these gestures during the 1988 campaign, presidential advisors instruct their candidates on techniques of bodily comportment as well as speech. Pragmatic gestures are now the subject of a growing body of research on political style, which includes analyses of Barack Obama’s precision-grip (Lempert 2011) and Howard Dean’s indexical point (Streeck 2008b). But the depictive gestures deployed by Trump—especially the type that caricatures opponents by embodying a behavior or activity associated with them—rarely surface in the same literature. How do we explain the success of Trump’s divergence from what appears to be normative gestural behavior for politicians seeking the Oval Office? We make sense of Trump’s gestural repertoire by viewing it as part of a comedic political style that accrues entertainment value as it opposes the usual habitus associated with US presidential candidates. When used in coordination with verbal strategies similarly designed to lampoon opponents, Trump’s enactments craft essentialized characterizations of identity categories that simultaneously cast their members as problematic citizens, whether Democrats, disabled, lower class, Muslim, Mexican, or women. These depictive gestures operate cross-modally to signal to Trump’s base that he challenges what is widely viewed as the political establishment’s debilitating rhetoric of political correctness. When Trump promises to tell the truth (Muslims are terrorists; some women are uglier than others; Mexicans are rapists), he aligns himself with opposition to political correctness, with a stance that rejects rhetorical caution regarding minority religions, genders, and ethnicities. Yet as entertainment, his gestures intensify the force of his words, attracting and holding the attention of the wider public as they dominate the news cycle. When framed against the more restrained style of old school politics, Trump’s gestures serve him well, particularly in a mediatized and visually oriented twenty-first-century politics that is celebrity driven. If the roles of celebrity and politician have merged in the public sphere, as a voluminous literature suggests (e.g., Brummett 2008; Duffy and Page 2013; Hariman 1995; Lempert and Silverstein 2012; West and Orman 2003; Wheeler 2013), entertainment forms once associated with genres such as stand-up comedy—including the exaggerated bodily characterizations of the sociopolitical world that Trump deploys to diminish his adversaries—now make good political sense. Gesture helps create the excess necessary for comedic routine. We argue Trump’s unconventional political style receives attention that helps rather than harms his candidacy because it is absorbed as entertainment by a heavily mediatized public sphere. Trump’s embodiment may be incongruous with how strong political embodiment is normatively understood, but its dense link to entertainment now brings voters along with viewers. The electoral allure of Trump’s “grotesque body”—to borrow a phrase used by Bakhtin (1984) to describe the subversive humor of the medieval marketplace—suggests that scholarship on society as well as gesture may benefit from a deeper consideration of comedic entertainment as an important social vector at this transitional moment in US political history. We have found it productive to analyze the complexities of a billionaire mogul’s political success through the three-way lens of entertainment, gesture, and spectacle. Entertainment Sociologist Paul Fussell (1992) suggested two decades ago in his acclaimed text on the American class system that the most important characteristic of the top-earning super rich is that they remain “out of sight” (27). Yet Fussell wrote before the emergence of the current celebrity culture, where the super rich are very much “in sight” across television, radio, satellite, and social media. Trump, who belongs to this billionaire culture, is a mastermind at keeping his celebrity status frontline news, a talent he exercised for decades as a corporate millionaire in the public eye. In a mediatized environment dependent on celebrity news, a politician can now be given the same treatment as a celebrity and become “the collective fetish of the masses . . . for whom every tidbit about the celebrity’s physical, sartorial, characterological, discursive, and other biographical features is worthwhile to their attentive collection and appreciation” (Lempert and Silverstein 2012: 8). In the case of Trump, however, rather than a politician turned celebrity, we have a celebrity turned politician. If Trump is a “rule breaker,” as the front cover of Time (2016) proclaimed, it is because he used his craft as an entertainer to forge a new hybrid of politics and comedy. Trump is certainly not the first celebrity entertainer to become a politician, and his ascendency in the Republican primaries is in many ways unsurprising given the ongoing hybridization of politics and entertainment in contemporary US society. But Trump’s dense use of a derisive form of comedic entertainment to attract media attention—no matter how negative that media attention may be—is a strategy that previous entertainer candidates such as Ronald Reagan did not pursue. The entertainment dimension of Trump’s resume has not gone unnoticed by his critics, with some labeling him an entertainer in the hope of discrediting his candidacy. “Showtime is over everybody, we are not electing an entertainer-inchief,” pronounced New Jersey governor Chris Christie in a speech at Saint Anselm College (before he became a Trump supporter). Obama chastised the media during a press briefing for their delicate treatment of Trump: “This is not entertainment; this is not a reality show.” Journalists and commentators have noted Trump’s entertainment appeal for years (Singer 1997; Taibbi 2016), with editorial cartoonists depicting Trump variously as clown, jester, King Kong, Lone Ranger, juggler, and master of ceremonies (US News 2016). Indeed, a cartoon on the front cover of the New Yorker (Blitt 2016) caricatures Trump as a political entertainer on a television screen, his waving hands and wide mouth earning the concerned gaze of five presidential icons—Kennedy, Lincoln, Teddy Roosevelt, FDR, and finally Washington, who covers his eyes with his hands. Seen in relation to presidents in the predigital era, Trump epitomizes twenty-first century visual excess and hyperbole. In fact, Trump used his entertainer credentials during the Republican primaries to deflect criticism over his verbal behavior. “Many of those comments are made as an entertainer,” he responded when questioned about the tone of his campaign (On the Record 2015). Later in the same interview, Trump defended his behavior by linking it to his performance on the reality-TV game show The Apprentice, where his role as tough love boardroom businessman dramatized a corporate bully who trains apprentices to become cutthroat entrepreneurs. Trump’s performance delivered its punch by denigrating contestants, and this became central to the show’s appeal. His celebrity entertainer status thus lent him deniability during the primaries: relations between form and meaning established in one discursive field (entertainment) excused behavior in another (politics). That Trump’s political personality seemed to mimic his Apprentice persona suggests that the genre of reality TV may succeed in manufacturing “authenticity” via the magical qualities that derive from the form’s ambiguity. Reality TV is of course not reality per se but rather a staged parody of reality delivered by the culture industry (Andrejevic 2004). It is magical, in the sense of early anthropology, because it contains within itself the contradictory frames of existence expressed by its name: reality and television. “Positivist” viewers who believe in its reality and “savvy” viewers who recognize its contrived nature are both able to respond to the entertainment value of the genre (Andrejevic 2004). The same ambiguity offered a peculiar advantage to Trump during the Republican primaries: Was Trump’s bullying behavior reality or performance? His claim of an entertainer identity protected him from the media firestorms that followed other candidates when they engaged in comedic derision. Those who tried to defeat Trump using Trump’s methods could not succeed. Florida senator Marco Rubio even felt compelled to register a rather dramatic public apology after he joked about the small size of Trump’s hands (and by implication the small size of his penis) at a campaign rally in Roanoke, Virginia. A long-term politician, Rubio was not protected by the entertainer magic that shielded his adversary. Over the last several decades, the United States has experienced a noticeable intensification of celebrity culture in politics. Ronald Reagan, “the Teflon President,” was a Hollywood celebrity whose life story also differed from the traditional political narrative. His campaign accelerated the use of advertising techniques based on “image marketing” so that “democracy itself [became] style” (Ewen 1988: 268). The political system that supports Trump is much closer to entertainment than what was experienced in the Reagan years, not merely in the way it awards politicians celebrity status but also in the way it creates politicians out of celebrities. Certainly we have seen precursors to Trump in the gubernatorial rise of entertainers like Hollywood actor Arnold Schwarzenegger and professional wrestler Jesse Ventura. But image consumption in the Trump era operates at a very different scale, exploiting the stylized techniques associated with comedic entertainment as political platform. To watch Trump perform a stump speech is to experience something like stand-up comedy. His words, gestures, repetitions, and interactive style tag his routines as comedic, if also crude and bawdy. Indeed, prominent comedians such as Samantha Bee, Trevor Noah, and John Oliver have themselves noted that Trump’s routines mirror a comedic format (see, for instance, The Daily Show 2016). His performances recall the signature elements of stand-up introduced to the American public in the 1960s and 1970s by comedians such as Lenny Bruce, George Carlin, Carl Reiner, Mel Brooks, and Richard Pryor, all recognized as comedic geniuses who employed taboo language to create comedy (Seizer 2011) and to insinuate the abject (Limon 2000). At a political rally in Grand Rapids, Michigan, Trump questions why Clinton arrived late to the previous night’s debate stage after a break. “Where did she go?” he asks the crowd. “I thought she quit, I thought she gave up! I know where she went and it’s too disgusting! Wasn’t this a weird deal?” Minutes later, Trump reminds the audience that Clinton “got schlonged” by Obama in the last primary, using the Yiddish word for penis to keep risqué talk in play. In a speech in Raleigh, North Carolina, Trump abruptly interrupts a woman as she asks “I was wondering what you would say to President Obama . . .” with the reply “You’re fired!” The performative has a vulgar emphasis on the [f] (see Figure 1a) as he throws his index finger forward to make the shape of a gun (see Figure 1b). Figure 1a: Trump’s Pistol Hand gesture (start), CBS North Carolina. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Figure 1b: Trump’s Pistol Hand gesture (finish), CBS North Carolina. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Figure 2: Trump’s Pistol Hand gesture, The Apprentice (2006), Associated Press Images. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint This is Trump’s infamous pistol hand gesture, the one he also used on The Apprentice to fire unworthy contestants (see Figure 2). The crowd gets the intertextuality and irrupts explosively into cheers, whistles, and screams. This is not the usual stuff of stump speeches but rather comedic performance. At Trump’s campaign rallies, a New York billionaire’s routine built on “bad taste” is displayed in carnivalesque fashion to a self-selected audience that understands his humor as funny. Literary scholar John Limon’s (2000) understanding of comedy as “the resurrection of your father as your child”—that is, the performance of punishing father and naughty son all at once—may in part explain the hilarity of Trump’s routines, particularly to those who subscribe to Lakoff’s (2016) analytics of the Strict Father family. Laughing with Trump, supporters are empowered; their differences with respect to social class or economic interests appear trifling. One need only remember how America wanted to have a beer with George W. Bush and how this small feature about the man increased his likeability. Laughter has always been understood as a weapon of the weak (Scott 1985; cf. Goldstein [2003] 2013), but it is perhaps also a weapon of the powerful. Trump makes people laugh, even if they are not laughing at the same thing. Media broadcasts of public reception spotlight some who laugh because they find Trump’s daily insults funny and others who laugh in disbelief and outrage. Yet both sides seem equally engaged by the question: “What did Trump say today?” Trump’s material is based on strong image projection (“Make America great again”; “Be a winner”), comedic gesture (mimetic enactments, histrionic facial expressions, rolling eyes, torso shrugs), sarcasm (“yeah, right”), repetition of packaged comedic routines (planes flying overhead at campaign rallies used as props to joke about military opponents), adversarial stance (anti-political correctness), staged rituals of masculinity and femininity (competitive one-upmanship involving braggadocio and beauty), and the bullying of opponents (“Look at that face”; “Jeb is a boring guy, basically a loser”). If viewers read Trump as an entertainer, it is because of these performances, where insults and gestures are produced in excess and often coordinated to enhance comedic effect. We have never seen a presidential candidate quite like this one. Nothing Trump did during the Republican primaries moved his supporters away from him. Much ink has been spilled over the negative aspects of Trump’s person—his ignorance, unpresidentiality, misogyny, racism, unpredictability—but no one seems able to explain why his popularity did not plummet, even after he told the nation that his hands were big and his genitals fine. Politicians have been ruined by much less. Gerald Ford was labeled a “klutz” after slipping on the stairs of Air Force One. Al Gore was ridiculed for sighing and rolling his eyes in debates with George W. Bush. Dan Quayle was deemed “stupid” because he had to learn from a sixth grader that potato is not spelled with “e.” Howard Dean was recast as “hysterical” because of a scream he delivered to his supporters after a third-place finish in the Iowa primaries (“Yeeeeeeeeaaaaaahhhh!!”). But would any of these actions have damaged Trump’s candidacy? Our argument is precisely that it is the style of Trump—his speech, his gestures, his comedic timing—that brings entertainment value and explains his political success. We agree with Dave Eggers (2016) in The Guardian when he says: “The moment [Trump] ceases to entertain—to say crazy shit—he will evaporate.” Indeed, if we break from our temporal frame of the Republican primary season and flash forward to the federal election, it does appear that a more restrained Trump has fallen in popularity. With visuals of Trump widely distributed across diverse media, the nation has now viewed so many instances of unpresidential behavior that almost anything seems acceptable. This development has led some commentators to revisit “the Howard Dean moment” in an effort to understand how the comparatively minor offense of a rallying cry could destroy a presidential campaign. Media scholar Robert Thompson asks in a recent documentary on fatal campaign blunders (History Channel 2016): What must Howard Dean be thinking now? Dean’s scream allegedly made him appear high strung, even hysterical. But did Dean really sound so out of control? Weren’t his poll numbers already fading? Jürgen Streeck (2008b) argues that Dean’s mistake was actually not the scream at all but rather his overuse of an index finger point that made him look as if he was always scolding the audience. Audio engineer Jen Munson points out that sound technicians brought down Dean’s candidacy by isolating the scream from background noise and making him sound more ramped up (Avirgan and Malone 2016). Michael Lempert and Michael Silverstein (2012) suggest that Dean’s scream was the culmination of a long line of political blunders that engendered a negative public opinion of his character. Given Trump’s success in spite of much grander gaffes, we suggest another explanation: the scream mattered because Dean was judged as a politician, not as an entertainer. Consider Trump’s use of the pistol hand, a gestural signature brought over from the genre of entertainment. A comparison between this highly emblematic gesture and those normatively used by presidential candidates reveals the semiotic limitations of politics as usual (for an early discussion of emblematic or quotable gestures, see Kendon 1992). Trump’s pistol hand is depictive, a show move, flashy; typical gestures for presidential politicians are pragmatic, emphatic, didactic. When Trump uses the pistol hand as a boardroom executive on The Apprentice, it conveys arrogance, sovereign power, and commanding force. Trump is the kind of guy who will never admit his own failures and rarely gives others a second chance. The gesture is understood through the iconicity of its production, where swiftness and precision accompany a gun shape in the striking down of an unworthy opponent. Yet the gesture is also playful: when Trump thrusts his hand forward to mimic the firing of a gun, he converts the sovereign force behind the performative “you’re fired” into comedic appeal. He brings a child’s pantomime of shooting an enemy—the use of hands to imitate the action of killing—to the firing of an adult in an entrepreneurial battle. The repeated image of a grown man unearthing child’s play on nightly television to dismiss contestants functions as comedy, recalling Limon’s (2000) symbiotic merger of punishing father and naughty son. Celebrity businessman and politician are brought together in a playful image of executive power. Even more critically, Trump’s hands differ from those of his competitors in that their movements are already established as part of the Trump brand. Trump’s use of the pistol hand gesture can be traced back to his involvement with professional wrestling, an entertainment genre in which competitors craft a persona through a particular move that is packaged for fan consumption through staged comedic routines of violence. Trump has developed his own persona at WWE (formerly WWF and World Wrestling Entertainment) since at least 1988, when he brought WrestleMania IV to Trump Plaza in Atlantic City. Two weeks after The Apprentice debuted in 2004, Trump attracted media attention when he attempted to trademark the pistol hand gesture together with the catchphrase “You’re Fired!” (McLeod 2005). The news item was viewed as laughable by both journalists and fans, who marveled at the audacity of Trump for thinking he could trademark such a common (and in this case, comedic) expression, much less a movement of the human body. Yet Trump’s attempt was consistent with branding practices in professional wrestling, where performers claim ownership to gestures, nicknames, and wrestling moves to advance their celebrity character. In fact, Trump’s campaign slogan “Make America Great Again,” which he trademarked in 2015 at the start of his presidential run, follows from his earlier promise in professional wrestling venues to “make WWE great again.” Trump’s reduction of competitors to nicknames like “Low Energy Jeb,” “Little Marco,” “Lyin’ Ted,” “Pocahontas,” and “Crooked Hillary” is a comparable branding tactic used for decades in this industry (although other-directed instead of self-directed), as is his use of impersonation, which we analyze below as a nicknaming practice waged in the modality of gesture. Trump has also imported tactics from the world of professional beauty pageants, a business he was likewise involved in for over a decade. His running commentary on the attractiveness of female adversaries recalls the judging rituals associated with pageant culture. Of note are his comments regarding Republican primary competitor Carly Fiorina (“Look at that face! Would anyone vote for that?”). Such comments demonstrate some of the accepted ranking practices found in beauty pageant culture. Beauty competitions do for femininity what wrestling competitions do for masculinity: they create a world of gestural performance based on an exaggerated and idealized notion of gender. They are about style not content, a point exemplified by the interview portion of many pageants. Contestants perform silently before the judges for hours in the bathing suit and evening gown competitions but are then given twenty seconds to answer a question. Trump’s importation of ranking practices into insults launched at political competitors illustrates his ability to surpass unspoken rules of decency by reframing his behavior as speaking the truth and rejecting the culture of political correctness. After calling attention to physical features of women, Trump declares to the media, “I respect women, I love women, I cherish women,” with no apparent awareness that such behavior might be perceived as misogynist. For some, his beauty rankings offer a funny pushback to political correctness and a no-nonsense display of campaign toughness; for others, it is simply unbelievable. Like all depictive gestures, Trump’s signature move exemplifies a form of metonymy, a semiotic process that reduces a whole to its parts (Mittelberg and Waugh 2014). One of the clearest ways to understand metonymy as social practice is through the concept of celebrity brand. According to rhetorician Robert Hariman (1995), “To become a celebrity, one has to master and distinguish oneself within a rhetoric of gestures—virtually every star has a defining gesture or gestural effect” (80–81). This is a practice intensified by digital media: politicians become fragments of bodies and voices spread daily across thousands of media platforms. Their every step is converted into digital material recontextualized for different sectors of a consuming audience. Hariman views today’s fragmentation of the body as continuous with courtly culture, where royals manifest sovereign power through looks and poses. The branding of US presidential politicians through gestural metonymy—for example, Nixon’s double-V victory gesture, Clinton’s thumbs up gesture, Obama’s fist bump, Merkel’s diamond—is thus a contemporary version of an old practice. Yet many of these gestures differ from Trump’s pistol hand in that the media is primarily responsible for granting them their significance. Although politicians often come to embrace the brandings attributed to them, there is little evidence in the historical record of candidates actively crafting emblematic gestures in their campaign speeches as indexical of political persona, as in the case of Trump. Trump’s gestures are part of a complicated mediation of Trump’s celebrity image as it relates to his overall brand. Trump is known as a famous figure with a long career of entertaining the mass US audience through performative humor. His humor works because it incorporates that central Bakhtinian trope called vulgarity. In Trump we find a Rabelaisian character that deploys bawdy humor to entertain his audience. He provides carnivalesque moments as he pokes fun at other candidates, at their bodies, at their fluids, at their stiffness. Like Rabelais, Trump understands that crude humor has the power to bring down the princely classes—aka, the political establishment—as well as anyone who opposes him. He uses it to advance the “antipolitics politics” that has been building in the US public sphere since at least the early 1990s. Viewers stay amazed by Trump’s expressions of physical disgust regarding the embodiment of others, whether in reaction to Megyn Kelly’s menstruation, Hilary Clinton’s toilet behaviors, or Marco Rubio’s sweating. By reducing his opponents to bodily behaviors, Trump assumes the position of a Rabelaisian clown, bringing down the old guard by exposing the grotesque body beneath. This strategy is key to understanding Trump’s gestural depictions, the subject of the next section. Gesture What is it about Trump’s public movements that allow him to appear comedic yet serious enough to become the Republican Party candidate? We turn now to the power of gesture as a modality particularly suited to the accomplishment of comedic insult in mediatized political forums. True to entertainer type, Trump violates many of the normative bodily standards of presidential propriety expected for the political stage. Most notably for our purposes, he produces emblematic gestures as self-branding, performs a contrastively large gestural space, and enacts reductive gestural depictions of his opponents by framing their bodies as grotesque. When Trump exposes the “truths” of the body as part of his comedic routine, he exploits a widely circulating language ideology in the United States: the body is thought to speak its own truth beyond the ephemerality of words. Trump’s opponents interpret his gestures as truth of discriminatory attitudes that exist beyond the comedic act; his supporters read the same gestures as truth that he is not afraid to express his opinions, even when confronted with the censorship ideals of political correctness. Trump’s bodily expressions thus enable plausible deniability by defying standardized interpretation. It is the body’s ambiguity that calls forth media spectacle. When Trump rejects the offending meanings his opponents proffer, the media responds by giving credibility to divergent interpretations, rebroadcasting the performance across the news cycle as commentators debate gestural meaning (cf. Boyer and Yurchak 2010 on media reception of Obama’s facial scratch). The spectacle has been created, but the entertainer politician emerges unscathed. Depictive gestures such as enactments are formed by incorporating bodily knowledge of the social world, abstracting qualities exhibited by the targeted object such as height, weight, shape, and speed (LeBaron and Streeck 2000; Mittelberg and Waugh 2014; Streeck 2008a). Yet because this incorporation is selective, such bodily acts also produce contextualized meaning, exemplifying an ideologically saturated semiotic process known as indexicality (Bucholtz and Hall 2016). For instance, Trump’s use of a firing squad gesture (see Figure 3) does not merely resemble the action of execution; it also unites moral and material worlds to critique Obama as losing ground, being weak in confronting terrorism, and making poor deals. When imitating a firing squad in a campaign speech in Greensboro, North Carolina, Trump registered a critique against the US government for exchanging five Guantanamo prisoners for Sergeant Bergdahl, a US army soldier captured in Afghanistan and thought by some to be guilty of desertion if not treason. “In the old days,” Trump says, “it would have been—”; then he pauses to enact the sideways firing of a rifle as if part of a firing squad. When performing this same routine in a campaign speech in Doral, Florida, he repeats the gesture twice before professing his love for the Second Amendment. The gesture thus materializes both a time period and a moral position that preceded political correctness, when punishment for betrayal was acceptable practice. In this way, gestural enactments have much in common with what linguists such as Niko Besnier (1993) and Deborah Tannen (1986) have identified for reported speech: they are citations disguised as quotes that “leak” the citer’s own imagining of social life and the ideologies that constitute it. Even the most conventionalized of depictive gestures inscribe broader societal discourses within the affordances of the body, transforming these discourses into an action. For many viewers, the exaggerated displays that we outline in this section recall a moment-to-moment reality television star whose character role is built on spontaneity. Linguist Jennifer Sclafani has observed that Trump is “turning political discourse into reality TV,” noting in particular the way he uses large gestures to remind viewers of his “big personality” (Atkin 2015). Sclafani is not alone in noticing an iconic relationship between Trump’s gestures and Trump’s personality: certainly, the editorial cartoons mentioned above play off this reading, as does widely circulating metacommentary on the meaning of Trump’s gestures (BBC News 2016; Bloomberg Politics 2016; Civiello 2016; Rozzo 2016). Donald Trump has done for presidential campaigns what Jerry Springer did for tabloid talk shows: he has inserted a level of lowbrow drama, humor, and violence into the genre through exaggerated appeals to the body. Trump’s body matters to advocates as well as opponents. To advocates, Trump’s gestures suggest a man who is spontaneous and real instead of scripted. He is an unplanned man, even an honest man, who tells it how he sees it. To opponents, Trump’s gestures suggest a man who is vulgar if not offensive. They reveal a different sort of spontaneity: a buffoon, even a fake, who only poses as a politician. Figure 3: Trump’s Firing Squad gesture, Ghetty Images. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Trump exploits both kinds of attention when he uses bodily performance to characterize the less competent behaviors of political opponents. This strategy is an important one for an entertainer new to politics; above all, it enables Trump to reposition the job experience of his opponents as a drawback instead of a qualification. Tellingly, the most common enactments used by Trump for established politicians involve the performance of small gestural space. Although gesture scholars often discuss gestural space (the personal space appropriated in the execution of gesturing) as a matter of individual, cultural, and contextual concerns (McNeill 1992; Sweetser and Sizemore 2008), Trump’s essentializing poses, repeated multiple times across campaign speeches, make it clear that gestural space can also be a matter of ideology (Hoenes del Pinal 2011; R. L. Lakoff 1992). They include the performance of a hunched body reading from a script for Hillary Clinton (see Figure 4), a stiff upper body for Mitt Romney (see Figure 5), and a huddled sleeping body for Jeb Bush (see Figure 6). With depictions like these, Trump uses gestural space to drive home his critique of the political establishment. The discourse goes something like this: politicians are people who do not act, who are not business people, and who do not know real risk. When mapped onto a restricted torso, an elite political class materializes as bookish, stiff, and lackluster. The mimicked gestural spaces of his opponents contrast sharply with the gestural space Trump inhabits in his own persona. Excessive gestural space is often negatively associated with tropic representations of social groups (e.g., the flamboyant gay man, the sassy black woman), but Trump uses gestural excess to convey the impression he is a new kind of politician, unconstrained by petty rules and competent at accomplishing daunting tasks. His performance of a large gestural space thereby becomes acceptable, if not politically desirable. In effect, Trump has expanded the space allowed for political gesture (at least for outsider politicians like himself). Figure 4: Script-Reading Hillary, Associated Press Images. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Figure 5: Stiff Mitt Romney, Associated Press Images. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Figure 6: Low Energy Jeb, CBS North Carolina. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint The gestural enactments outlined here function similarly to nicknames, crafting a metonymic representation of the referent that purportedly captures some essential truth. In the early anthropological literature, nicknames were discussed as part of the brick and mortar of local social systems (Pitt-Rivers [1954] 1961; Cohen 1977; Gilmore 1982; McDowell 1981). But nicknames also form part of an oblique naming system that belongs to comedic insult and “can be understood as a play upon form: that is, as a joke, or rather, the punchline of a joke” (Blok 2001: 157). In other words, the purpose of a nickname is not just to mock but also to entertain. In the new political process orchestrated by a comedic billionaire, the public watches as Trump rolls out nicknames for each successive opponent. The gestural nicknames are initially coarticulated with verbal nicknames such as “Low Energy Jeb” but later take on their own independence as detachables. In Bakhtinian perspective, this naming process accomplishes something important. Through metonymic reduction, nicknames connect the subject to the grotesque body, thus becoming comic and provoking hilarity. By mocking the subject and making the named person look foolish, nicknames give special powers to the provider. After all, the one who is the master of nicknaming is the person declaring the public secret. We turn now to three widely mediatized gestural enactments that display Trump’s antagonism to political correctness by invoking discourses of disability, class, and race. These enactments are more elaborate and extended than the nicknames performed above, but they similarly reduce a target perceived as an opponent to an action of the body: the Wrist-Flailing Reporter, the Food-Shoveling Governor, and the Border-Crossing Mexican. Trump’s bodily parodies deliver the message that he rejects progressive social expectations regarding how minority groups should be represented. In each case, the media responded by moving away from an initial critical stance to a discussion of the meaning conveyed by Trump’s body. The Wrist-Flailing Reporter One of the most cited of Trump’s gestural spectacles involves a full-body enactment of Washington Post reporter Serge Kovaleski. Trump quoted Kovaleski on the campaign trail as saying fourteen years earlier that Muslims were celebrating in response to 9/11, an allegation Kovaleski denied. At a rally in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina, Trump responded to this denial by framing Kovaleski as one of many “incompetent dopes” together with the president, politicians, and journalists. The theme of the speech is thus about incompetence. As with the firing squad example, Trump’s speech is particularly focused on the ineptitude wrought by political correctness, which in his view keeps politicians from speaking the truth and doing the right thing. But Kovaleski also happens to be afflicted by a muscular condition that involves contracture of the body muscles and joints. In his gestural depiction of Kovaleski, Trump transforms a discourse of incompetence into the action of flailing, limp wrists (see Figure 7a–c) and produces a multimodal image depictive of disability. (Due to space constraints, the images included in Excerpts 1 and 2 capture only a single frame of the extended depictive gestures used in these enactments; Trump also uses a number of pragmatic and interactive gestures that we do not notate in the transcripts.) Excerpt 1: The Wrist-Flailing Reporter Written by a nice reporter. Now the poor guy, you gotta see this guy. (Mimics Kovaleski’s voice and actions.) [“Uhaaaaaaaaaaaa I don’t know what I said uhaaaaaa!]7a [I don’t remember!”]7b He’s going like [“I don’t remember uh doh, maybe that’s what I said.”]7c (He returns to his own voice, shouting.) This is fourteen years ago he still— They didn’t do a retraction? Fourteen years ago, they did no retraction. Figure 7a: Wrist-Flailing Reporter, RightSide Broadcasting. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Figure 7b: Wrist-Flailing Reporter, RightSide Broadcasting. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Figure 7c: Wrist-Flailing Reporter, RightSide Broadcasting. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint In this excerpt, a perceived opponent is metonymically represented by a flailing bodily habitus (uncontrolled, limp-wristed movements), facial contortions (rounded o-lip), and incoherent speech (loud elongated vocalizations produced in the back of the throat). The depiction produces a recognizable emblem in US popular culture of physical and mental disability. Emblematic gestures may sometimes be used in place of speech to displace responsibility for taboo topics (Brookes 2011), but the highly negative public response to Trump’s enactment suggests that this gesture cannot easily escape its performative associations. Yet Trump was nevertheless able to deny this interpretation in a follow-up statement: “I have no idea who Serge Kovaleski is, what he looks like, or his level of intelligence. I merely mimicked what I thought would be a flustered reporter trying to get out of a statement he made long ago. I have tremendous respect for people who are physically challenged.” Trump thus retroactively characterizes his act as “mimicry,” but he denies the public interpretation of that mimicry as a biographically specific impersonation targeting a category of disabled persons. Although the media response was initially condemning, Trump’s defense transformed the critique into an interpretive discussion. Regardless of the relationship between the performance and the object depicted, Trump moved political discourse to a new place by highlighting gestural ambiguity through comedic routine. The Food-Shoveling Governor A second gestural enactment that caught the attention of the media is Trump’s depiction of Ohio governor John Kasich shoveling a pancake into his mouth (see Figures 8a–d), which was performed at a rally in Warwick, Rhode Island, in response to widely circulated images of Kasich eating at a New York restaurant. The depiction invites comparison with the Wrist-Flailing Reporter, except that it draws from discourses of social class instead of disability. (Again, the images below are provided as single-frame examples of the main gestural depictions used in the excerpt.) Excerpt 2: The Food-Shoveling Governor Now you look at Kasich, I don’t think he knows what— you know, did you see him? He has a news conference [all the time when he’s eating.]FSh (Crowd laughs.) I have never seen a human being eat in such a disgusting fashion. (Crowd laughs and cheers.) I’m always telling my young son Barron, I’m saying—and I always with my kids, all of ’em— [I’d say, “Children, small little bites,]SB small.” (Crowd laughs.) This guy [takes a pancake]BP and he’s [shoving it in his mouth]FSt you know. (Crowd laughs and cheers.) It’s disgusting. Do you want that for your president? I don’t think so. (Crowd boos “no!”) I don’t think so. It’s disgu— honestly, it’s disgusting. Figure 8a: Food-Shoveling gesture (FSh), MSNBC. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Figure 8b: Small Bites gesture (SB), MSNBC. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Figure 8c: Big Pancake gesture (BP), MSNBC. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint Figure 8d: Food-Stuffing gesture (FSt), MSNBC. View Large ImageDownload PowerPoint In this dramatization of Kasich’s table manners, we are again confronted by a display of discomfort with nonnormative bodies. It is well known that Trump avoided the fray of vernacular embodiment on the campaign trail by rarely eating with locals, even though this activity is expected of presidential candidates. In fact, Trump is famous for eating even fast food with a knife and a fork. Anthropologists familiar with the work of Norbert Elias (1982) and Pierre Bourdieu (1982) on the importance of table manners to class distinction would recognize Trump’s enactment as a veiled class assault: Kasich is a slob, a low life, a “subhuman” who would have difficulty being presidential. Trump, in contrast, is a man who teaches his children to exhibit good manners and eat politely in “small bites.” When returning to this same routine later in the speech, Trump illustrates that even his youngest child (named Barron) knows that Kasich’s behavior is wrong: “He said, ‘Daddy, look!’ I said, ‘Don’t watch. Little bites, little bites.’” Trump performs versions of this routine in at least four other campaign venues. Each time, as in the above excerpt, the crowd’s laughter, cheers, and boos suggest alignment with Trump’s perspective, even as he portrays Kasich as eating like a pig. We again turn to the power of entertainment to understand the rhetorical effects of Trump’s display. His stint on Kasich incorporates recognizable techniques from impromptu stand-up comedy. He performs the voices of others as prompts for mockery (his young son), involves the audience through call and response (“Did you see him?” “Do you want that for your president?”), uses a repetitive verbal refrain to thematize a mocking stance toward his target (“disgusting”), and employs the method of abjection by calling attention to another candidate’s eating habits. Moreover, Trump creates the caricature of Kasich by assuming the roles of punishing father and naughty son, with Kasich in the role of the latter. In sum, these cross-modal stylizations provide the ground for the rhetorical call-and-response that comedic routine relies on while also signaling the inability of Kasich to perform competently as president. Trump’s one-upmanship form of humor reinforces his superiority to those he critiques, a process noted by laughter theorist Henri Bergson (1921) almost a hundred years ago. His gestural enactments produce the comedic callousness that is central to his political persona. The emblematic gesture that accompanies “You’re Fired” lacks the power to be felicitous when Trump utters it in a political context, making it all the more comical for its absurdity. This explains why commentators posting about Trump’s pistol hand on video sharing sites such as YouTube indicate a playful enjoyment of the gesture even when they do not necessarily agree with its message (“Not a fan of him at all. But honestly, that was actually funny.”) (Live Satellite News 2015). It also explains why audience members at a campaign rally in Madison, Alabama, break into uproarious laughter when Trump fires his pistol hand three times at a random plane flying overhead (“What is that? Oh. Uh oh, it’s ISIS, get them down!”), and why audience members laugh in Manchester, New Hampshire, when Trump points to another plane and suggests it might be carrying Mexicans. As with the Kasich example, these are packaged comedy routines, cliché gags, shticks. If Trump brags about his ability to deliver a speech without a teleprompter (“I don’t need those notes because I don’t need notes. Aren’t I lucky?”), it is because he knows how to exploit what is unfolding in the world around him as a comedic prompt. Specifically, he incorporates the immediate environment into the performance of his own comparative competence. Trump’s gestural enactments, as with parody more generally, thus exhibit a dual indexicality that points to the teller of the joke as much as to its target (Hill 1999; cf. Hall 2005). They may denigrate a social group by linking them to stereotyped body movements, but they also point back to him as a fun-loving guy who breaks the rules to enjoy a good joke. In short, Trump’s body becomes a spectacle that resembles stand-up comedy, where politically correct language and sensitive topics are breached for entertaining effects. The Border-Crossing Mexican Trump has developed a series of depictive gestures that coordinate with his promise to build a wall at the Mexican border. These depictions work together to construe Mexicans as bodies out of place. The “huuuge” wall that Trump performs in several campaign speeches—wide out-stretched arms to illustrate width, tall upright arms to illustrate height, a sharp L-shaped drawing pattern to illustrate strength—positions Mexicans as a wandering people who need to be stopped. Trump even performed a gestural enactment of Mexicans as “candy grabbers” at several venues when discussing outsourcing (with fingers pulling toward the palm), again suggesting a greedy people who put their hands in places they do not belong (“Mexico has been taking your companies like it’s candy from a baby, right?”). With these and related gestures, Trump expresses disdain for individuals whose lives are structured around migration. A prominent media spectacle during the Republican primary season was a video broadcast of Trump disembarking from his car, climbing through a fence to cross over a concrete structure, and walking across a field to enter the back door of a stadium surrounded by protestors in San Francisco, California. When he finally arrives at the podium, knowing that his actions are being followed in real-time on cable news, Trump leads his audience in laughter by comparing his trek to “crossing the border.” His darkly satirical portrayal draws its humor from the absurd image of Trump the billionaire in the role of a border-crossing Mexican immigrant. This enactment differs from the previous two examples in that it is a reinterpretation of Trump’s own bodily movements televised earlier. Yet the performance has all the elements of comedy. It turns something tragic and sad into something funny and absurd (Goldstein [2003] 2013). A privileged well-dressed body is reimagined in the role of impoverished migrant: Trump-the-immigrant crossing dangerous regions filled with protesters in order to get to his podium. Circulating videos of the verbal and gestural enactments discussed in this section keep Trump at the forefront of national attention. As each day of the campaign passes, news consumers want to know: Who did Trump offend this time? Yet the question we pursue is a relatively uncharted area for gesture studies: How do Trump’s bodily acts keep supporters as well as adversaries coming back for more? Scholars working on conversational interaction provide one possible answer by illustrating how gestural enactments elicit heightened displays of attention, build a form of shared common ground, enlist coparticipation, and provoke laughter (Sidnell 2006; Thompson and Suzuki 2014). This body of research offers empirical support to Bergson’s early characterization of gesture as “something explosive, which awakes our sensibility when on the point of being lulled to sleep and, by thus rousing us up, prevents our taking matters seriously” (1921: 144). Perhaps it is true that Trump has become America’s newest “guilty pleasure” (Grossman 2015), dominating newsrooms, comedy sketches, social media, classrooms, and everyday conversation. Through gestural stylization, Trump creates a spectacle to be consumed. It does not matter whether the spectacle is respected, simply tolerated, or even abhorred, the outcome remains the same: we keep on watching. The public’s attraction to the political character known as Donald Trump is the subject of our third and final section. Spectacle The Trump empire brings together many of the elements analyzed by scholars as spectacle in late capitalism: hyperbole, casino capitalism, branding, simulacra, nostalgia, mediatization, excess, consumption, and vacuousness. Indeed, many of Trump’s known interests and business endeavors are coincident with the thematic focus of influential spectacle theorists. Trump’s engagement with professional wrestling recalls Roland Barthes’s ([1957] 2009) essay on wrestling as “the spectacle of excess.” His construction of nostalgic hotels like Trump Taj Mahal and Trump Castle Casino evokes Jean Baudrillard’s (1988) theorization of simulacra and the hyperreal in postmodernity. The Republican primary debates could be seen as their own kind of simulacra, turned by Trump into a mass-mediated spectacle that was in many ways predicted by Guy Debord’s ([1967] 1970) work on the increasing importance of the mediated image to the formation of social relationships in capitalism. David Harvey (1990, 2006) perhaps makes the most explicit connection between public space, capitalism, and spectacle when he speaks of the “mobilization of spectacle”—that is, the movement of capital to urban spaces in periods of intensified competition and entrepreneurialism, as we now understand to have happened in Las Vegas and Atlantic City, places shaped by Trump’s hand. According to Harvey (2006, building on Sennett [1974] 1992), this mobilization serves to mask and disguise the fundamentals of class relations, bringing as its final scene a thorough depoliticization of these spaces. Trump as a branded commodity to be consumed—or rather, TrumpTM—has entered politics in a way never seen before, as technological and institutional forces harness the power of Trump as old-school capitalist and entrepreneur of spectacle and escort his brand into the political spectrum. His ability to bring previously distinct forms of semiotic extravagance together (reality television, beauty contests, wrestling matches) and insert them into his candidacy for the most powerful position in the world is precisely what makes Trump a never-ending spectacle. It is perhaps redundant to remind the reader that Trump’s business narrative is everywhere saturated with examples of late-capitalist excess—restaurants that offer all-you-can-eat menus; investments that earn money through bankruptcy; branding schemes that are several times removed from the brand itself. It seems that we have decisively arrived in the era of late capitalism critiqued by each of the above theorists for fetishizing style over content and for ultimately serving as a depoliticizing force. Yet it is style, of course, that makes spectacle entertaining. In this article, we have tracked Trump’s use of comedic style as it informs his gestural behaviors on the campaign trail, where he reduces diverse forms of social complexity to buffoonish movements of the human body. Trump’s gestural spectacles in public, even if they earn him more adversaries than supporters, maintain steady reception as they incite landmark media coverage. As we know from other examples of negative spectacles, the gesture and its source can maintain media coverage in spite of the message. We are reminded of the global response to the widely circulated spectacle of US soldier Lynndie England’s thumbs up and pistol hand gesture, which she performed before naked Iraqi detainees at Abu Ghraib prison during the US-led Iraq war. This gesture, initially associated with torture and institutional military excess, was later transformed into hilarity through its mediatization on a British visual blog website (see Hristova 2013). Over the course of a few weeks, England gradually became a victim of her own gesture as participants began to upload photographs of unattractive people in unglamorous occupations “doing a Lynndie.” Even the most perverse of depictive gestures—in this case, a “photo cliché” that instances a dark moment in US history—is easily fetishized as comedic spectacle, particularly when subjected to the digitized imaginings of citizen photographers. Gestures are certainly open to a variety of ideological interpretations (cf. Alim and Smitherman 2012 on Obama’s fist bump as a “terrorist fist jab”), and we expect Trump’s gestures to be cast in new ways as the campaign moves forward. But if these bodily acts are ultimately interpreted as entertainment rather than other possibilities (ableist, classist, racist, nativist, sexist, etc.), then it is possible that even Trump’s most offending gestures can be depoliticized. Yet Trump is also a vernacular spectacle (cf. Androutsopoulos 2010), a multimediated image fueled by linguistic and gestural features that are densely indexical of New York City. The 2016 presidential election is one of the first in many decades where a New York vernacular style is as much an asset as it is a hindrance, contributing to positive as well as negative media attention. Both Donald Trump and Bernie Sanders share styles reminiscent of less elite boroughs, specifically Brooklyn and Queens. Perhaps this turn of events was encouraged in the aftermath of 9/11, when Rudy Giuliani famously declared, “We are all New Yorkers now.” The nation saw and heard—and even came to respect and possibly idolize—what had previously been considered a brash New York style, opening the potential for the rise of both Trump and Sanders. In fact, at several junctures in the primary election cycle, Trump invited what he believed to be antiestablishment Democratic voters supporting the progressive candidate Sanders to join his campaign. The ideological gap that separates these two candidates should not be underestimated. While Trump may be ushering in a depoliticized era bereft of content, our sense of things is that Sanders added in content previously missing. But this would be another article, and we are trying here to understand what keeps Trump from losing ground in spite of a relative lack of substance and many rhetorical gaffes. In her ethnography No billionaire left behind, Angelique Haugerud tracks the rise of political satire in an American public sphere that lacks deep investigative reporting and increasingly relies on “personality more than issues, style more than substance, and tactics more than context” (2013: 189). She focuses on a group of satirical activists who began appearing at political events at the turn of the twenty-first century under the title “Billionaires for Bush,” precisely when the super-rich billionaire class began to attract attention. Haugerud poses the question: What follows “after satire”? We suggest that it is the comedic debauchery of Donald Trump that follows. His rise is the next logical chapter of a hypermediatized politics that lacks content, sells itself as entertainment, and incorporates comedic stylistics so as to immunize itself from critique. In contrast to the parodies discussed by Haugerud, Trump’s performances depend on his self-proclaimed successful billionaire status and alleged competence. We are hesitant to elevate Trump’s programmed routines by calling them satire, but it is precisely their comedic effects that work for him as political entertainment. We have written this article with some concern that our analysis will bring even more attention to the comedic and gestural techniques that have assisted Trump’s rise, yet we also believe that there is much to be learned from the anthropological and linguistic insights expressed here. In our view, the benefits of revealing the processes through which Trump gained momentum outweigh the dangers of adding to his media presence. Shortly after the Republican primaries concluded, large naked statues depicting Trump’s grotesque body began to appear in urban public areas around the country, perhaps in an attempt to confront Trump with his own comedic weaponry. This article is meant to be similarly confrontational in its exposition of the value accrued by Trump’s bodily behaviors. Trump has done what a previous generation thought impossible: he has turned a billionaire caricature into a wildly popular political brand. During the Republican primaries, Trump repeatedly promised the public that he would “become presidential,” cease his whack-a-mole tactics against adversaries, and bring respectful demeanor back to the campaign. As we conclude this article two months before the national election, we have yet to see Trump’s promise materialize. But we are struck by the words he used at a campaign rally in Harrisburg, Pennsylvania: “At some point I’m going to be so presidential that you people will be so bored.” Perhaps Trump has it right. Now that the American public has taken its seat in the perversely compelling theater that we have outlined throughout this article, politics as usual cannot easily follow. Acknowledgments The authors are deeply grateful to Hau editors Giovanni da Col, Amira Mittermaier, and Michael Lambek for their quick and generous shepherding of this paper. We would also like to express our appreciation to five anonymous reviewers, editors Molly Mullin, Sean Dowdy, and Michelle Beckett for their keen insights, and the many colleagues who provided feedback along the way: Niko Besnier, Anton Blok, Barry Brummett, Mary Bucholtz, Alison Cool, Kristen Drybread, Kate Goldfarb, Candy Goodwin, Tamara Hale, Arlene Hall, Leo Hall, Angelique Haugerud, Olivia Hirschey, Lonia Jakubowska, Carla Jones, Velda Khoo, Peter Koester, Michael Lempert, Laura Michaelis-Cummings, Carole McGranahan, Arielle Milkman, Chris Morris, Lindsay Ofrias, Nick Remple, Richard Sandoval, Muhammad Sheeraz, Magda Stawkowski, Jürgen Streeck, Irina Wagner, and Sydney White. Appendix: Figure Permissions Figure 1a–b: Trump’s Pistol Hand gesture. Raleigh, North Carolina, 12/4/15. Reprinted with permission from CBS North Carolina. Figure 2: Trump’s Pistol Hand gesture. The Apprentice, 2006. Reprinted with permission from Ghetty Images. Figure 3: Trump’s Firing Squad gesture. 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In addition to the edited volumes Gender articulated: Language and the socially constructed self (Routledge, 1995) and Queerly phrased: Language, gender, and sexuality (Oxford, 1997), she has authored diverse journal articles and book chapters on the subject of language, identity, and embodiment in India and the United States. Kira Hall Department of Linguistics 295 UCB, Hellems Building University of Colorado BoulderBoulder, Colorado 80309-0295 USAkira.[email protected]eduDonna M. Goldstein is professor of cultural anthropology at the University of Colorado Boulder and author of Laughter out of place: Race, class, violence, and sexuality in a Rio Shantytown (University of California Press, 2003), winner of the 2005 Margaret Mead award. She writes within the fields of medical anthropology, anthropology of the environment, and Science and Technology Studies (STS) and is currently working on a project that examines the history of Cold War science and nuclear energy in Brazil. Donna M. Goldstein Department of Anthropology 233 UCB, Hale Building University of Colorado BoulderBoulder, Colorado 80309-0233 USAdonna.[email protected]eduMatthew Bruce Ingram is a PhD student in the Department of Communication Studies at the University of Texas at Austin with a focus on rhetoric and language studies. His research draws from sociocultural and rhetorical understandings of embodiment to study how human actors use their embodied resources to represent themselves and others as well as make sense of their social worlds. Matthew Bruce Ingram Department of Communication Studies CMA 7.112, 2504A Whitis Avenue University of Texas at AustinAustin, Texas 78712-0115 USAmatthew.[email protected]edu Previous article Next article Details Figures References Cited by HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory Volume 6, Number 2Autumn 2016 Published on behalf of the Society for Ethnographic Theory Article DOI https://doi.org/10.14318/hau6.2.009 Views: 10515 Citations: 12 Citations are reported from Crossref Keywords comedy entertainment gesture humor depiction politics spectacle This work is licensed under the Creative Commons | © Kira Hall. 2016. Crossref reports the following articles citing this article: Rosana Pinheiro-Machado and Lucia Mury Scalco From hope to hate: The rise of conservative subjectivity in Brazil, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 10, no.11 (Jun 2020): 21–31.https://doi.org/10.1086/708627 Aurora Donzelli and Alexandra Powell Bugden The “Tiny Hand” of Donald Trump and the Metapragmatics of Typographic Parody, Signs and Society 7, no.22 (May 2019): 217–244.https://doi.org/10.1086/702567 Michael Lempert On the Pragmatic Poetry of Pose: Gesture, Parallelism, Politics, Signs and Society 6, no.11 (Jan 2018): 120–146.https://doi.org/10.1086/695425 Ciara Kierans and Kirsten Bell Cultivating ambivalence: Some methodological considerations for anthropology, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 7, no.22 (Nov 2017): 23–44.https://doi.org/10.14318/hau7.2.006 Maria L. 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Goldstein and Kira Hall Postelection surrealism and nostalgic racism in the hands of Donald Trump, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 7, no.11 (Nov 2017): 397–406.https://doi.org/10.14318/hau7.1.026 Michael Silverstein Message, myopia, dystopia, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 7, no.11 (Nov 2017): 407–413.https://doi.org/10.14318/hau7.1.027 Stefka Hristova Notes on the iconography of mediated gestures, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 7, no.11 (Nov 2017): 415–422.https://doi.org/10.14318/hau7.1.028 Norma Mendoza-Denton Bad hombres: Images of masculinity and the historical consciousness of US-Mexico relations in the age of Trump, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 7, no.11 (Nov 2017): 423–432.https://doi.org/10.14318/hau7.1.029 Jeff Maskovsky Toward the anthropology of white nationalist postracialism: Comments inspired by Hall, Goldstein, and Ingram’s “The hands of Donald Trump”, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 7, no.11 (Nov 2017): 433–440.https://doi.org/10.14318/hau7.1.030 L. Kaifa Roland How bodies matter: Yesterday’s America today, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 7, no.11 (Nov 2017): 441–447.https://doi.org/10.14318/hau7.1.031 Nancy Scheper-Hughes Another country? Racial hatred in the time of Trump: A time for historical reckoning, HAU: Journal of Ethnographic Theory 7, no.11 (Nov 2017): 449–460.https://doi.org/10.14318/hau7.1.032 Close Figure Viewer Browse All FiguresReturn to Figure Previous FigureNext Figure Caption The University of Chicago Press Books Chicago Distribution Center The University of Chicago Terms and Conditions Statement of Publication Ethics Privacy Notice Chicago Journals accessibility University accessibility Follow us on facebook Follow us on Twitter Contact us Media and advertising requests Open access at Chicago Follow us on facebook Follow us on Twitter 
work_33ymykd6yvd7nczhiel6lamvre	----	CITIES2_final_ktmpure Lost in Transition? Emerging forms of residential architecture in Kathmandu Sengupta, U., & Bhattarai Upadhyay, V. (2016). Lost in Transition? Emerging forms of residential architecture in Kathmandu. Cities, 52(March), 94-102. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cities.2015.11.007 Published in: Cities Document Version: Peer reviewed version Queen's University Belfast - Research Portal: Link to publication record in Queen's University Belfast Research Portal Publisher rights © 2015 Elsevier This manuscript version is made available under the CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0 licensehttp://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/,which permits distribution and reproduction for non-commercial purposes, provided the author and source are cited. General rights Copyright for the publications made accessible via the Queen's University Belfast Research Portal is retained by the author(s) and / or other copyright owners and it is a condition of accessing these publications that users recognise and abide by the legal requirements associated with these rights. Take down policy The Research Portal is Queen's institutional repository that provides access to Queen's research output. Every effort has been made to ensure that content in the Research Portal does not infringe any person's rights, or applicable UK laws. If you discover content in the Research Portal that you believe breaches copyright or violates any law, please contact openaccess@qub.ac.uk. Download date:06. Apr. 2021 https://doi.org/10.1016/j.cities.2015.11.007 https://pure.qub.ac.uk/en/publications/lost-in-transition-emerging-forms-of-residential-architecture-in-kathmandu(f53ceb18-58b9-48cb-923e-ced7ca089305).html 1 Lost in Transition? Emerging forms of residential architecture in Kathmandu Urmi Senguptaa, Vibha Bhattarai Upadhyayb a School of Planning Architecture and Civil Engineering, Queen’s University Belfast, UK b Institute for Culture and Society, University of Western Sydney, Australia Introduction Kathmandu has been one of the last few cities in the world which retained its medieval urban culture up until twentieth century (Aranha, 1991; Levi, 1992; Tiwari, 2001, Gutschow and Kreutzmann, 2013). Various Hindu and Buddhist religious practices shaped the arrangement of houses, temples, stupas and urban spaces giving the city a distinctive physical form, character and a unique oriental nativeness. Unlike many medieval European cities Kathmandu didn’t have an industrial past. Its urban history therefore did not follow Mumford’s (1938) three technologically determined eras - the medieval city ("eotechnic age"), the industrial city ("paleotechnic age"), and the future ("biotechnic age"), or "post-industrial" city - that he used to define Western cities. Local historians such as Mahesh Chandra Regmi mark the year 1786 as the beginning of ‘modern era’ in Nepal when Prithvi Narayan Shah (the first King of Unified Nepal) established Kathmandu as the capital1. Regmi approached modernity through the historical analysis of chronological periods of various lengths and history of Royal dynasties that ruled Nepal. With unification the country saw a new form of political and economic governance but their ramifications rarely penetrated the society’s rich and illustrious culture for the next 200 years. People continued to work as farmers, artists and craftsmen; and kept their ties with the traditional occupations. The city was physically isolated due to high altitude and surrounding mountains. It remained politically and culturally insulated from both European or Persian sovereignty by resisting Muslim invasion in 15th century and Colonial subjugation in 18th century2. Kathmandu retained its purity and timeless character almost as a frozen city that didn’t move, grow or change with time. It thus remained seemingly irresistible to Western scholars who admired the mystic, deep, religious and cultural roots of the city. Much earlier, William Kirkpatrick during his visit in 1793 described Kathmandu valley saying ‘there are nearly as many temples as houses and as many idols as inhabitants’ (Kirkpatrick, 1811, p.150). According to his estimate, the city had about five thousand houses (Ibid: p.150). Levy (1992), referring to Bhaktapur, an indigenous historic settlement, called it a mesocosm - an essential middle world situated between the individual microcosm and wider universe . Over the years, the clustered historic settlements in Kathmandu with a living urban culture have become a pilgrimage sites for scholars in architecture, planning and history (Gustchow and Kreutzmann, 2013). The pursuit of modernity in Nepal effectively began with the redevelopment of the entire southern quarters of Juddha Sadak, a prominent street leading to the historic Durbar Square in Kathmandu, as part of the rebuilding in the aftermath of 1934 earthquake. In 1955, Tribhuvan International Airport was inaugurated, opening Kathmandu to the outside world. Simultaneously, the first city plan was prepared in 1969 and Nepal Telecommunication office established in 1975, all of which would further develop in the following decades and become trademark of modernity. Simply put, modernity signifies progress and development implying something 1 The state of Nepal came into existence in the 18th century when Prithivi Narayan Shah, the king from a small state of Gorkha, fought several battles to combine small feudatory states into one, including the Kathmandu Valley which was previously divided into three small kingdoms under the Malla rulers (11th-18th centuries). Prithivi Narayan Shah established Kathmandu as the capital of Nepal. 2 There have been many attempts of British invasion in Nepal and tales of braveries of Nepalese soldiers. The first attempt wasthe battle at Nalapani in 1814-16, followed by fierce attack in Jaithak met with stubborn resistance eventually forcing British commanders to retreat (See, Northey and Morris, 1928) 2 different from the language of ‘medieval’. The short history of Kathmandu’s modernisation suggests the city did not quite follow Mumford’s three phases of civilization. It rather moved directly from eotechnic to biotechnic era. Much has changed in the last few decades with city’s buildings and spaces going through a rapid change within a compressed timeframe. A confluence of multiple social, economic and cultural forces appear to influence this transition. The changing urban landscape of the city today is attributed to the material conditions of the 20th century with urbanisation and globalisation emphasizing a ‘modern culture’ in architecture and lifestyle. High profile palaces and monuments (such as the former palaces Singha Durbār and Narayan Hiti Durbar, Durbar High School, Trichandra College, Clock Tower and numerous courthouses) built under the influence of neoclassical architecture during Rana rule in the last century herald a departure from traditional architecture, which manifests in its extreme form in the new residential architecture. This trend, accelerated by the shift from owner-built housing to developer-built housing has led to creation of new forms, identity, and aesthetics. New residential design is dominated by distinctive patterns of Western suburban ideal comprising pastiche of detached or semi- detached homes and high-rise tower blocks. This architectural iconoclasm can be construed as a rather crude, if not cataclysmic response to the indigenous spaces and builtform. Traditionally, private houses were organized around a residential square where people from the extended families resided. Often the votive miniature temple, large water spouts or a well-enhanced aesthetics of the space provided local residents with the opportunity to interact and socialise. The embedded nature of public and private spaces was unique to Nepalese society that accommodated the age old socio-cultural and religious practices. Today, the characteristic feature of this transformation - a sense of rupture and discontinuity – is not only limiting opportunities for social interactions but also eroding traditional housing forms and spatial system. In the historic core, traditional buildings are replaced by incongruous tall buildings with little emphasis on artistic taste (Gustchow and Kreutzmann, 2013; Shrestha, 1981). Elsewhere, the ‘free standing’ houses erected on subdivided plots of the former palace compounds were branded as ‘visual crime’. (Gustchow and Kreutzmann, 2013). Moreover, the recent devastating earthquake of 25 April 2015, which flattened over 600,000 buildings and killed over 8,000 people, further placed the appropriateness of the new residential architecture at the forefront of discussion. The paper attempts to dismantle the current tension between traditional and contemporary ‘culture’ (and hence society) and housing (or builtform) in Kathmandu by engaging in a discussion that cuts across space, time and meaning of building. In a deeply traditional city such as Kathmandu, architecture as Mand (2013) contends, has been the primary conduit through which tradition and modern binary is articulated. Kathmandu extols the ingenuity generated by its traditional architecture and has inspired scholars to delve deeper into introspective exploration of its traditions, cultures and nuances to explain the advent of modernity and continuity of change. Our approach is therefore as consonant with those of Gutschow and Kreutzmann (2013), Shrestha (1981), Tiwari,(1991), Shrestha (2010), (Levy, 1992). All of whom are interested in finding roots of emerging architectural forms in Kathmandu in order to establish its identity, place in history and embodied urban change (or lack thereof). The next section discusses the organisation of space and house types in the traditional and contemporary Kathmandu to illustrate some of the many paradoxes that confront the notion of traditional vs. modernity in architecture. This will be followed by a discussion on shifting boundaries, social identities and the new modernity questioning their ramification in the creation of a modern city. The paper concludes that residential architecture in Kathmandu today stands disoriented and lost in the transition. Distinct identity to unsettling modernity The variegated history of the traditional architecture and builtform of Kathmandu dates back to roughly 2000 years owing to various kings and dynasties (such as Licchavis, Mallas, Ranas and Shahs lately) contributing to city planning. Early history suggests a distinct progression and design in different periods due to the city’s transitional location between India and Tibet/China and cultural influence from both sides (Table 1). Building and artistic activities, particularly from the Malla rule of the 15th and 16th centuries - regarded as one of the glorious periods - gave Nepalese architecture and built-form a strong identity. The effects of mutual rivalry of the city kings, artistic development and competitive mercantile economy on the cultural transformation reflected in the 3 city’s layout, art and architecture. Royal Palaces and Squares assumed the highest importance as administrative, bureaucratic and religious spaces. These were also multifunctional spaces implying an extended involvement of ‘Royal’ institutions in the society. Whilst the traditional Royal towns exhibit an organic growth over centuries, scholars (Tiwari, 2008; Müller, 1981) argue that they are certainly not unplanned settlements despite absence of wide roads, a common trait of planned settlements. The immediate areas surrounding the Palaces were occupied by the elites, the people from the higher castes3. The lower castes lived outside the city walls. Different parts of the city, especially district (tol) were often noted for their socio-economic characteristics due to the predominance of one caste-based stratification such as Nay Tol, Pore Tol and Brahmu Tol manifested in the spatial structure of the city (Shrestha, 1981). These references also imply that the importance of the district- tol declined with distance from the city centre (Wright, 1877). Table 1 Nepalese architecture in chronological order Type of homes Period Attributes Early Nepali home Pre- Medieval era (300AD-879AD); Lichchabi dynasty Use of stones, decorative motifs showing influences from Sarnath and Mathura Schools of Gupta architecture in India Newari home Medieval era (1200AD- 1769AD); Malla dynasties Houses of brick and tile, wit-pitched or pen-roof and enclosed wooden balconies of open carved work; bricks as the main structural material and richly carved woodwork; Tibeto-Burmese influence Shah home 1769AD-1846AD Continuation of Malla architecture with influence from Mughal architecture in India Rana home Rana period (1846AD- 1951AD) Neo-classical, Baroque or industrial style with columns of different orders; French windows and white plaster; a style much in use in Europe and in neighboring India by the British Modern Nepali home 1951AD onwards Town houses, row housing, apartments; use of concrete and bricks, influence of globalization and westernization The art and architecture that prospered in the three city states4 in Kathmandu suggest their rulers’ passionate involvement in building temples, monuments and public spaces, in art, astronomy and mysticism, all of which would be deeply etched in the lifestyle of the people. The pagoda roofs (diminishing tiered roofing) of the Hindu temples were supported by intricately carved wooden struts and pillars with various legendary figures, animals, Tantric deities and human figures. The Shikhar pattern of architectural temples had five to nine vertical sections forming a rising tower just as though they are depicting the crown of Himalayas. Often the top of the Shikhar is adorned by a highly ornate Pinnacle (Gajur). These temples were not only a part of the urban landscape but also a part of the social and economic life of the valley. The splendour of the Newar town design seems to emanate from an innate sense of aesthetics, a natural rhythmic articulation achieved over a long time span rather than a conscious organisation of space according to dictate” (Slusser, 1982, p. 94). Newar Houses and spaces A typical Newar house was a three to four storied building which either faced the courtyard or the street. While the sides of the houses which faced towards the streets were often used as shops, the inner sides facing the courtyard were used as open areas for living and also as workshops approached through courts (Müller, 1981). The top floor was the kitchen space which also consisted of a separate prayer room or an area was allocated for daily worship of deities. Some houses are even connected at the attic level, which would be opened on the days of large communal feasts (Pant, 2002). Typical building materials were red bricks laid out on mud mortar. Timbers were used for floors, doors, windows and roof structures. The houses had richly carved wooden windows facing the streets. The windows were small to shut out the winter cold. Courtyards were shared spaces 3 Class hierarchy is the stratification of the society largely based on the traditional occupations of the people in the Kathmandu Valley. 4 Kathmandu valley had three kingdoms, Kathmandu, Bhaktapur and Lalitpur (Patan). 4 to observe religious or everyday activities. Levy (1992) sees the Newari city as being constructed of successive interlocking cells (household, lineage, neighbourhood and city), each sustained by its culture and its cultural performance. His view subscribes to the notion that space reflects identity that is socially produced. The individual house was thus a part of the larger group which consisted of houses built around courtyards and people generally moved through a series of interconnected courtyards to get to streets and nearby public squares. Each neighbourhood or Tol of around 150-300 houses was intricately linked to people based on their caste and occupation, thereby giving them a unique collective identity. The location of the house in a typical street or in Tol indicated the social status of the owner. Each house was two to three storeyed and accommodated a joint family of parents, their children, and their grandchildren, living together for social as well as economic reasons (Haaland, 1982). Figure 1: Typical Newari homes set in a courtyard Source: Authors An important element linking history with Nepalese use of space is the socio-religious ritual. An individual’s house is the first place of worship, where there is usually a corner or a separate room dedicated to different deities. The doors are low in height believed to be to show respect to your own house when entering it by bowing your head (Haaland, 1982). There is also a place of worship in the courtyard, which is worshipped by the families living around the courtyard. Away from the periphery of the house, at the first junction of the streets, there is a temple, often for Lord Ganesh or Goddesses Bhagavati. In larger open spaces of the locality, bigger temples are found. The distinction between private and public space symbolizes the negotiation of individual and collective identities, articulated and regulated by daily or annual rituals, or festivals. Each family is thus attached to the deities located at different parts of the city. The festivals, attached to certain deities and located in certain neighbourhoods, are able to provide an identity to the neighbourhood. Sharma, (1997) calls the local religious procession as the manifestation of this cohesion. The living quarters, distinctly divided according to the different caste groups, were assigned different set of rules for building, for example, people on the lower caste were prohibited of using tiles on their roofs; instead, their roofing material had to be thatch. Almost all the building materials were sourced locally and built by the local builders and craftsmen. The procedure for building a house was different for each caste with elaborate rituals generally prescribed for higher caste groups. Living closer to the palace was reserved for the elites – the higher caste groups – whose house valued more than a house on a street or a lane, farther from the palace or the city centre (Wright, 1877). As early as the mid-14th century, the Newar rulers established clear guidelines on what a house should look like and its value using religious scripture as a basis for settlement planning. These religious rules of allocating spaces in or outside the city based on one’s caste group are a clear and early example of how rules regarding urban space have been used to reflect and reinforce social status. Building scale and visual harmony was emphasized with uniform building designs prescribed for the size and the structure of the building for different castes. Property values for different parts of the cities were standardised. This indicates the expected economic outcomes if the properties were to be sold, i.e. the identification of economic opportunities of the house and land (Wright, 1877). 5 The traditional settlements in the city were built usually on the top of the hill, as the main idea was to conserve agricultural land and locate the settlements where cultivation was difficult (Hosken, 1974). But, surprisingly, within these compact settlements, there were plenty of public spaces where people met, markets were held, agricultural products were thrashed and dried, and various festivities were carried out. These activities spilled out from the private spaces of the house to the semi-private spaces of the courtyards to the public spaces such as neighbourhood squares and streets, with very little demarcation between private and public spaces. The relationship between the buildings (both public and private) and the streets and open spaces illustrates not only an understanding of visual requirements but also of the functional and social needs of the population. Similarly, numerous religious festivals that occur throughout the year5 are ingenuine expressions of communal living and mass celebrations, relying completely on private or communal funding where whole society comes together. People spent most of their time outside of their houses in squares and courtyards which became meeting and resting places, and where other activities like bathing, drying of produce and family feasts took place (Korn, 1993). These squares were paved like streets (with stone and brick) where various informal trading took place (Wright, 1877). Each neighbourhood opens up into a public square consisting of numerous temples and public rest houses. Contemporary Architecture The contemporary architecture in Kathmandu has its roots in external influences. As early as 1876 Rana rulers travelled to Europe to bring home neoclassical and French renaissance architecture that became the identity of modernity in early years. These trips were the outcomes of the strategic links formed by Rana rulers with British Empire.6 Further influences came with growing interest of outside world in the country. In 1951 USAID became the first International agency to sign a bilateral agreement. By 1970s Kathmandu became the destination of the hippie trail or the new Shangrila - the new world space where the Western disenchantment could be contained. The growing importance of the city internationally was accompanied by rapid internal migration that brought diverse ethnic population with disparate material possession. The city’s agricultural hinterland became the new material sites for development. Images from the 1960s and 1970s (Hagen 1980) show settlements still clustered around traditional town areas and along major transport routes, whereas between 1971 and 1981, residential land area grew twice (Doebele 1987). Increasing exposure to the outside world fuelled by easy access to international print and visual media influenced the development of so-called modern architecture in the city. The landscape of uniformity and homogeneity in architectural style and design gave way to a collage of styles driven by images of Western modernity. 5 Various festivals are observed in Kathmandu by the local communities such as Bada Dashain, Tihar , Maghe Sankranti : (January), Naga Panchami, Janai Poornima, Pancha Dan Teej/Rishi Panchani, Indrajatra, Ghanta Karna, Buddha Jayanti, Sri Panchami, Maha Shivaratri, Phagu Poornima , Ghodejatra, Indra-Jatra, Chaite Dashain, Nava Varsha, Seto Machchhendranath and Matatirtha Aunsi, Loshar, Shivaratri to name a few. 6 Nepal avoided Colonial advancement in early 18th Century by bravely fighting the enemy. Later astute Rana rulers befriended British rulers and helped by supplying Gurkha soldiers to contain growing resistance in India. 6 Figure 2: A typical house built during Rana period, Jawalakhel, Kathmandu Source: Authors The contemporary urban environment of Kathmandu is dominated by individual piecemeal housing developments. Unlike the houses of the original Newar towns, these houses are usually very different in colour, design and in scale to each other. Introduction of reinforced concrete in the 1950s was instrumental in changing the traditional brick-walled residential houses into bungalow type structures which would start as a single storeyed residence with subsequent addition of floors as the family grew in size and the needs expanded (Shah 2010). More recent houses with multiple storeys had different families living in each floor rented out by the owners. With the rise in land price, housing plots became smaller as the residences rose in height disregarding the by-laws. The evolving landscape was marked by the reinforcement steel bars protruding from [sic] the top slab of buildings, in anticipation of future additions’ (Shah, 2010, p. 2). Figure 3: Individually built houses Source: Authors 7 The privately planned residential enclaves in the city emerged since 2000, with the enactment of Apartment Act and deregulation of housing finance. According a conservative estimate there are at least 150 real-estate companies operating in the city creating gated enclaves planned in a grid iron pattern to mimic classic Western suburban neighbourhood designs. Most are developed by the local investors, but lately Chinese, Korean and Indian investors have also entered the market. One of the first housing companies to start planned housing colonies is the Civil Homes Pvt Ltd. Civil Homes is currently undertaking phase seven of housing development on the outskirts of the city. The past six developments have been hugely successful. The Civil Homes website claims it as ‘one of the largest planned housing undertakings in the country, it sets new standards of living, amenities and aesthetics’. The developer further claims that the development is specifically and authentically Nepalese: It is a project undertaken by the Nepalese for the Nepalese people, with conscious efforts made to provide for local conditions, tastes and habits. The exquisitely designed buildings, though contemporary, fit in the Nepalese landscape. Relatively larger plots than most other housing complexes mean reduction in density and truly provides the opportunity of taking in the surrounding natural beauty and vistas. (Civil Homes, 2015) The Civil Homes Phase III development located at Sunakothi in the southern part of Lalitpur district is one of the biggest housing developments with 200 individual houses in one development. This development was marketed as a place with good views, a peaceful and healthy environment, tree-lined boulevards leading to a central open space for community uses; full security with boundary walls, gates, and guards; an onsite private school, clinic and postal services; as well as a reliable water supply and drainage systems (Civil Housing Program, undated). There are six types of houses depending upon the area of the land and the facilities, but each has some private open space and onsite parking. The prices of these houses at the time of their selling varied from approximately NRs. 3.35 million to 7.75 million (approximately equivalent to £20,563 to £47,571, as of July 2015) (Civil Homes, 2009; Civil Housing Program, undated). The developer claims that the housing complex is developed to achieve a greater sense of neighbourhood and to be environmentally friendly by utilising a low density grid street pattern with a hierarchy of road sizes (Civil Housing Program, undated). Figure 4: Uniformity in design and aesthetics in houses built by Civil Homes Source: Civil Homes website, accessed 2009 Despite the nationalistic marketing blurb, the Civil Homes housing development deliberately imitates the subdivision design of Western gated communities. Entry to the housing is guarded by security personnel and 8 special permission from the builder’s office was needed simply to visit the site. The researchers observed that development is strictly zoned and there are no commercial activities within the residential areas; while community facilities are allocated to the northeastern section of the complex. Despite six variations in house types, their exteriors varied little as the uniformity bolstered by the use of same material and design element. In contrast to downtown Kathmandu, and even new independently developed areas, both streets and open spaces inside the complex lacked any activity or vibrancy. Source: www.valleyhomes.com.np, 2009 Another example of modern residential development in Kathmandu is the Terraces also located in Sunakothi. The Terraces, developed by Valley Homes Pvt. Ltd., was marketed as a gated community. The properties were Figure 5: Gazebo details in the Terraces, showing the imitation of European sculptures 9 sold in 2009-2010, with prices starting at NRs. 12.17 million (approximately equivalent to £74,701) to NRs. 17.56 million (approximately equivalent to £107,786 as of August 2015). There are 12 different designs, with some potential for customisation to suit specific client needs. These Terraces consist of landscaped gardens, walking and jogging paths, wide open roads, open spaces and a community club with all the modern facilities. . Within the gates, these dwellings present an idealised image of Western home with European neoclassical elements on the exteriors. The Terrace houses are luxurious and expensive in comparison to those in the Civil Homes development. There are no visible references to indigenous architecture or neighbourhood design. In developer-built homes, exterior is often restricted to touch with statues, personal manifestations and identity is rarely seen and households use the interior space to express their fulfilment of cultural expressions. For example, the need for puja room is integral part of every modern house, a puja math made out of cabinet and a space to hold that is indispensable in Nepalese home. If puja room cannot be erected due to space constraints, a domestic Mandir or altar is erected in every home decorated in bright (red/orange cloths) colours and placed in a sacred space. Visits in new apartments show bookshelves and cabinets converted to create these spaces of veneration. Moreover, there are numerous examples of modern Nepalese home adorned with traditional arts and artefacts. This need not be understood as the society’s resistance to modernity but a true reflection and sentiments of Nepalese society’s use and relationship with space. More recently, apartment towers have mushroomed across the city, adding a new dimension to residential modernity. Apartments are seen as the ultimate solution to the rapidly growing population. The features such as ‘round the clock security system’, ‘treated water supply’, ‘gymnasium, sauna & jacuzzi, swimming pool’ are provided including a small temple generally located at the ‘site gate’. It is clear that these gated enclosures differ both in social production and social construction from the historic quarters. Shifting boundaries, social identity and the new modernity Kathmandu is by far Robinson’s (2006) ‘Ordinary city’ that is caught between modernity and development. The contemporary Kathmandu is characterised by urbanization, poverty, a fragile governance that is riddled with ethnic conflict and political instability. The city being the biggest urban centre in Nepal experienced huge influx of people from other parts of the country during the civil war between 1996-20077 and, more recently, ethnic violence in Terai (Southern plains). The rural urban migration has had a serious impact on the ‘urban structure’ due to rapid growth in both housing and economic activities stretching urban boundaries and population (Sengupta and Sharma, 2009). The city’s growth and the resultant architecture are underpinned by two different but interconnected movements in contemporary urban development. The physical transformation of the city through sprawl and seizure on one hand and social transformation from caste division to class division on the other, has led to absorption of modernity by the commodity culture and wider community. The meaning and significance of tradition and modernity in everyday life, however continues to create tensions in everyday life. Sprawl and Seizure Kathmandu is no exception to the phenomenon of urban sprawl. It has led to the disappearance of much of rural hinterland and creation of placeless and characterless settlements. The peripheral area in the city is also an uneven territory due to the combined effect of both growing affluence and poverty bolstered by the sprawl and 7 A democratic government was established in the country in 1951 after the autocrtatic rule by the Rana Family (1846-1951). However, this new found democracy was again curtailed in 1961 when King Mahendra Shah seized power from the democratic government to rule as the absolute monarch. The “people’s movement” in the early 1990s re-established parliamentary democracy in the country, and the role/power of the king was curtailed from that of an absolute monarch to that of a constitutional monarch. As the Kathmandu Valley began to modernise, a privileged few became affluent while life for people in the remote districts of the country became even harder. Growing socio spatial disparities ultimately led to a decade long Maoist guerrilla war in the country until about 2006. 10 seizure. The former relates to accretion from the efforts of individual land owners and entrepreneurs, whilst the latter reflects an organised effort from private developers and land brokers speculatively amassing large parcels of land in the periphery of the city. Most development is occurring beyond the legal limits of zoning by-laws (Bajracharya et.al, 2015) which in turn, motivates households to move to the city fringes where they would be subjected to lesser building by-laws. The sprawl is also driven by the supply mechanism that prices lower middle class out of the city boundaries. Interestingly there is no legislative framework that prohibits conversion of agricultural land into residential development in Kathmandu. Although prior approval from local municipalities is required, building plans and drawings are assessed in a rather ad hoc basis due to lack of technical and professional expertise. This, coupled with absence of a long term spatial plan has resulted in piecemeal residential development lacking in basic services and infrastructure. As a result, agricultural fields have been converted into housing sites at an alarming speed8 resulting in the reduction of peripheral agricultural land from 62 per cent in 1984 to 42 per cent in 2000 (UNEP et al. 2007; Thapa, Murayama and Ale, 2008) with serious environmental consequences. They are the new sites that couldn’t be easily policed as laws cannot be enforced. These sites have also become an easy real estate prey and a profiteering opportunity for canny investors. Thousands of formal and informal land brokers are operating today in buying cheap agricultural land and seizing them until prices are speculatively and artificially raised. This unique blend of sprawl and seizure commodified land and housing market (Sengupta and Sharma, 2009), leading to indiscriminate and even illegal construction of buildings that poses severe health and safety risks let alone possess architectural definition or order. The formal group housing estates are interspersed by the incremental development inadvertently accentuating rather than ameliorating the contest. The peri-urban Kathmandu looks neither planned nor ordered today continually morphing and spreading sequence of spaces that lack distinction. It has bypassed all the norms and nuances, failing to give a coherent shape and form to this development. Gutschow and Kreutzmann (2013) calls it a ‘mindset’ that is regulated by the market. Caste to Class The apparent architectural (dis)orientation of peri-urban areas owes itself to the incidence of ethnic shift in the population of Kathmandu. The city is hugely diverse with a number of castes and ethnic communities and cultural groups that make up the city. It is the city of Brahamins, Chhettris, Tamangs, Magars, as much as of Madhesis, Tharus and Newars. This ethnic cultural mosaic is seen comprising over 40 per cent of Kathmandu’s residents today, with roughly 60 per cent made up of the indigenous Newar population. For a deeply traditional city this could either spell disaster or constitute an epitome of plurality and modernity. Tiwari (2001) argues that the loss of cultural heritage in Kathmandu may be ascribed to lack of understanding of its importance and relevance by the immigrants and traditional inhabitants alike. The house types and settlement patterns of the people who immigrated show lack of a closely knit society with a high social order (Shrestha, 1981) while they sought to create their own urban enclaves. In the historical core ancestral dwellings are extended to create more space, increasing to accommodate expanding family members. Attractive portrayal of modernity pushed wealthy dwellers to move out of the historic core. Those who remained, subdivided their homes in apparent vertical expansion leading to narrow blocks jutting out of the roofline. Within each ethnicity, a hierarchy of castes is embedded, its origin dating back a thousand year. The layout of the traditional city was largely defined by the caste since mid-14th century (courtesy the Medieval king Jayasthiti Malla). Following the Hindu order, each caste was assigned its own customs in relation to dwellings, dress and ornaments and jobs. Lower castes such as Kasais and Podes were not allowed to have houses roofed with tiles. The occupational castes were distributed generally throughout the city, except for the central area, which housed the palace and the main Brahman/priest cluster. While the structural differentiation imposed by caste system remained throughout the centuries, the religious framework unified the population in the socio-political 8 According to a recent study (Bajracharya et al. 2015), the built-up area in the municipalities grew from 38Km2 to 999Km2 between 1990 and 2012, an almost threefold increase. 11 framework (Bhattarai, 2004). Caste defined and guided all the religious ceremonies, rituals, marriage, social interactions etc. In the twentieth century however, the importance of ‘caste’ and the context of caste-based physical planning has understandably diminished. With this, the caste-based management of community infrastructure, function and usage of space has disappeared. Civil Homes (discussed above) for example is a complete self-contained constellation of residential buildings. The plans, elevations and the layout of the development appears borrowed, at best a mimicry of western middle/upper-class imaginaries which are unfamiliar and distant to indigenous culture. Architecturally, individual houses and terraces rooted in post-modern architectural pastiche, or adorned with classical and baroque details reflect an ostensibly universal nature of these projects are devoid of Nepalese architectural identity. They clearly make the owners ‘privileged’, ‘secured’ and ‘special’ with a guardhouse, 24 hours water and electricity supply, uniformed security men. But their Nepaleseness remains questionable. Within these gated enclaves, other forms of homogeneity based on income, class and lifestyle etc. are becoming more apparent. They represent a particular ‘group’ whose identity cannot be variegated in terms of caste or ethnicity. The transition from caste to class division in the society has been further complicated by ethnicity, which is increasingly gaining prominence in political discourse. Although Kathmandu’s ethnic division shows an increasing tendency of diversification rather than enduring concentration, the peripheral areas such as Koteshwor, Gangabu and Kapan are ethnically dominated. Ethnicity has also been one of the most politically divisive dimensions in the country. It has been a double sword with its links with both ‘caste’ and ‘class’ disparity in the society. For instance, an ethnic population could belong to a lower caste which is also economically deprived making it one of the most abused tools in the political arena. On the other hand, planned housing as second home or future investment and creation of expensive enclaves of housing and commercial complexes/departmental stores in the city has led to spatial division in rich and poor neighbourhood (Shrestha, 2010, Kobayashi, 2006). The duality in ‘thinking’ (nativeness and ethnicity) and ‘practice’ (modernity and westernized) has led to poorly defined and articulated neighbourhoods that fuel the disorientation as far as residential architecture is concerned. Tradition vs Modernity. 12 The embodied urban change in Kathmandu transcends beyond the dichotomy of tradition vs modernity and into the realm of identity of its urbanism it now beholds. The discursive nature of the city building process and the dubious identity makes it a city in transition. Every layer of new brick that is added today searches for a new urbanism. Despite being one of the most impoverished nations in the world, Kathmandu exhibits real estate traits similar to any second tier city in United Kingdom or Australia. A typical dwelling cost ranges from NRs 10 million to NRs 25 million (roughly £0.1 to £0.25 million) in the newly developing housing estates (see, housingnepal.com). One may wonder who the consumers and new residents of these housing estates are. Some of them are the local indigenous people who have prospered over the years and want to set themselves free from tradition. But a substantial number of them are from other parts of the country or people living elsewhere either due to economic compulsion or very rarely, by choice. Sengupta and Sharma (2009, p.36) observed that this was mainly targeted to the large influx of wealthy migrants concerned with security situation in various parts of the country, bringing with them capital to invest in land and housing in Kathmandu. A significant proportion of the supply is now consumed by the Non-resident Nepalese (NRN) with the remittance money that now stands as one of the biggest revenue generators for Nepalese economy’ influencing not only household consumption and investment patterns, but overall economic structure and dynamics’ (ADB, 2014). Figure 6: A Tulsi (Basel) plant in a modern Nepalese home Source: Authors The cultural distortion associates commodification of land and housing with the societal status accompanied by a quest for modernity. In the process indigenous culture and builtform has been devalued, although as Nelson (2010) argues it lives on in the mindset of occupiers of new colonies and apartments as they start to look for ways to reintroduce the old culture in new spaces. Common inside the gated development are the shoots of traditional living and social interactions. It can be argued that the sprawling city growth and its modernist imaginaries is held back due to what Robinson (2006) calls ‘anxiety’ arising from reliance on borrowed culture, betrayal of local cultural forms and economic realities. For instance the Tulsi (basil) Math, best characterizes the continuity of tradition within modern homes. Part of Hindu culture of planting, a Tulsi plant at home (either in the courtyard, terrace garden or in ubiquitous Verandahs) symbolises purification, has medicinal use and used in religious veneration and even given to the dying persons to purify their soul. The multiple manifestation of single plant in so many different forms of Sanskaras, can never be realised with its replacement by an orchid plant that so many modern homes in Kathmandu have come to be adorned with. A dubious compromise then happens in the form of a blooming orchid right next to a basil plant. These cultural practices are not necessarily just beliefs and outlooks or symbolic acts, but these are rituals in which a discourse is embedded. While these practices do not directly represent the disintegration of the modernity, they explicitly take up the other aspect of its thesis: the failure of the new order to emerge and replace the tradition. Explained differently the homogenizing effects of buildings and spaces go on to produce a response in the (re)invention of tradition. 13 Another classic example would be the use of traditional stone water taps locally called Dhunge dharas9, which were not only the source of water but also provided space for social interaction and various cultural practices. They appeared from the vertical wall, often with a shrine or idols of gods and goddesses engraved to it, which are today at the verge of drying up. Some of them have been removed to accommodate new development. Whilst with development of municipal piped water, the utilitarian value of these traditional watersprouts has been obscured, their aesthetic dimension and their embodiment of Hindu references of gods and goddesses has remained intact. Thus their removal is largely about ‘appropriating the modernity which is a cosmopolitan phenomenon’ (Robinson, 2006, p.148). Like these watersprouts- builtform, design and urban spaces –are changing in the valley. A wider circulation of materialistic culture coupled with ideological distortion has created a new order of uncertainties dissolving intimate social forms and community relationships, to be replaced by sterile isolation and social fragmentation. On the other hand, society’s relationship to land harks back to the tradition and rurality left behind by migrants. By and large, the cultural production of gated and self-contained new residential enclaves in Kathmandu has been the modern manifestation of Western suburban culture. Perhaps unsurprisingly, several typical morphological features of Western suburban development are recognizable in the layout of these modern enclaves including Civil Homes. This observation however ignores a crucial detail that relates to a small parcel of land provided in the curtilages of nearly all homes. In our visits we have witnessed instances of developer- provided front lawns being converted into de facto vegetable gardens. These apparently are not a subsistence related activities but rather, an intense desire to introduce a slice of rurality. Such symbolism is profoundly significant in the debate of tradition vs. modernity. Whilst, we would not underestimate the relevance of the dichotomy between town and country in defining modernity especially in European cities, the same argument does not fit a deeply traditional city or society, given, whilst stressing the element of modernity, these enclaves in Kathmandu are both urban and rural simultaneously. The urban and rural are only conceptually different, but come together in everyday social life. Changes, both coercive or voluntary through the impact of globalisation and technology have affected both architecture and lifestyles in Kathmandu in a visible way but they have done little to change the way society uses space or desires to do so. Liechty’s (2010) extensive ethnographic study of middle class culture in Kathmandu suggests how the city has engaged, produced and reproduced global cultural processes, however the conditions under which they takes place remains external. The city is neither qualitatively different from its non-urban spaces nor from its ‘primitive’ form given the intense traditional values and practices still dictating the way people shape and reshape buildings and spaces. There are traditional practices and system that have held their values in the modern times. The Guthi system10 for instance is an example of an indigenous system that exhibits modern attributes despite being introduced some six hundred years ago. This brings us back to Mumford’s (1962) emphasis on organic relationship between people and their living spaces in cities. The physical design of cities and their economic and technological functions are secondary to their relationship to the natural environment and to the spiritual values of human community. On this basis we contend that the dialectical relationship between cultural imaginaries and the city development may appear contradictory today but it is far from being a finished ‘project’. Instead the relationship is still evolving and reshaping with every day activities and any social-scientific analysis remains just a conceptual starting point. It is rare in the Nepalese society to engage in critical analysis of the buildings, spaces or its architecture. The stylistic delineation of Nepalese architecture was initiated and idealized in literature by passionate researchers from the West (mainly Germany) such as Gustchow and Kreugtmann (2010), Slusser (1982). Levy’s (1992) 9 The traceable history of Dhunge Dharas goes back to 550 AD when Bharavi, the grandson of King Mandeva from Lichhavi period built the first Dhunge Dhara in Hadigaon ( Pradhan, 1990). There are 117 Dhunge Dharas in Kathmandu and another 40 in Patan. 10 The Guthi is an association formed by groups of people or members of a family based on caste, patrilineal grouping or territorial aspects created to generate financial and social capital from collective land ownership. It helped to finance regular maintenance of a wide range of heritage items and monuments alongwith the observance of cultural rituals and festivals practiced by local people. 14 archaic city, Slusser’s (1982) Mandala city suggest that medieval Nepal exploited opportunity to place traditional architecture strategically to construct its identity. The contemporary architecture, on that basis, would thus, go through the natural scrutiny on its contribution to identity the city has acquired and/ or its continuity. Kathmandu has thus become the fertile ground for the debate on style and its complexity, contention and traditional ideology, and finally deviation from it. Architectural style as an evaluative category to define the nativeness and modernity appears at this juncture, still inadequate to represent the discursive nature of architecture or cultural production, which is neither linear nor tangible. The connection between the city and native residents is deep and suggests approaching modernity through different kinds of methodological approaches, such as the analysis of Nepalese attitudes toward the organization of space in order to understand how new spaces of modernity are being shaped. Shoots of new methodology have been witnessed in revitalisation projects in Siddhakali, Thimi that combines tradition with modern within historic old core as the new generation of use of architecture in cultural production. Likewise new breed of Nepalese architects are combining tradition with modernity (Mahato, 2010). However, there is very little in terms of introducing a new residential architectural discourse that would sustain outside these individual and piecemeal efforts. In this sense the question where tradition ends and modernity begins becomes increasingly irrelevant. Conclusion Octavio Paz (1974, p23) claimed, ‘modernity is an exclusively Western concept that has no equivalent in other civilizations’. This paper develops this claim in articulating how emerging architecture in Kathmandu exists within the blurred lines of modernity and tradition. As an analytical category the paper uses both emic etic representations of everyday life to capture the elusive traces of traditions in new modern residential architecture that could potentially lead to a new form of cultural production. Not only has it become an ongoing, potent symbol of engagement with the past, but within these symbols are also found traditional practices and ways of life that have evolved over many centuries. The traditional architecture in Kathmandu, shaped by well-structured societal norms and religious practices, has, in turn, helped preserve these very norms and practices to give a cultural continuity. Commenting on early signs of ruptures and discontinuity in traditional practice Shrestha (1981) questions, how much of these architectural treasures could be preserved in the transition to modernity. Nearly four decades later, as the transition to modernity intensifies, the question becomes even more pertinent. The emerging architectural trend in Kathmandu is a result of complex outcome of combination of changes taking place under the conditions both internal and external or atraditional. Physical transformation triggered by sprawl and seizure and societal transition from caste to class manifest in architectural modernity. The advent of modernity, however, grounded in historic timings, subscribes to different reference points. Modernity in residential architecture has been shaped during the decades globalisation flourished with a powerful architectural vision laden with western ideals and aesthetics. Private developers have become the torchbearers to promote this vision, which has been well received by the migrant communities, increasingly disoriented by the domestic violence, ethnic diversity and rapid transformation in the society. However, a parallel trend of linking back to tradition is evident in disparate forms across many enclaves of modern distinction. Kathmandu’s gradual expansion and the tension between the city’s historic centre and peripheries are increasingly shaping the city’s identity. Neither this tension nor the architectural legacy is articulated by media or found in public discourse or political agenda. A formidable civic activism emerged in recent years for high profile cases11 but they have been short-lived and confined to institutional buildings. It is surprising that the three decades of civil war has been brimmed with nationality and nationhood, while the same consciousness is not evident in new architectural forms and patterns. Triangular pediments and French Windows travelled to the country from Europe, so did the use of sandstones, marble stones or stained glasses. These practices have steadily grown to undermine the value of historic enclaves as centres of tradition, identity and nationhood. It is a tragic paradox that the contemporary architecture in Kathmandu turns its back on the very legacy that gave the city its identity. The residential architecture today stands disoriented, lost in the transition. 11 Examples include resistance to add extra floors to the Zonal Office next to Rani Pokhari and Louis Kahn’s Agriculture Bank building with partial success. 15 REFERENCES Aranha, J. L. (1991). ‘A comparisons of Traditional settlements in Nepal and Bali’. Traditional Dwellings and Settlements Review, Vol. 11, pp. 35-47. Asian Development Bank (2014). ‘Effects of Migration and Remittance Income on Nepal’s Agriculture Yield’. ADB South Asia Working Paper series, No.27, July, ADB: Manila. Bajracharya, A. et.al. (2015). Planning for affordable housing during densification in Kathmandu Lessons from four settlements, Working Paper, International Institute for Environment and Development (IIED): London. Bhattarai, H. P. 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work_3juckpr55fczvn7wi43hm52glu	----	The American Archivist / Vol. 44, No. 4 / Fall 1981 327 Morris Leon Radoff: The Man and the Monument MARCIA D. TALLEY IN JUNE 1974, MORE THAN eighty historians converged on Annapolis, summoned to the campus of St. John's College by the Maryland Hall of Records to participate in the first Conference on Maryland His- tory. Few came only to hear the twenty- five conference papers read and dis- cussed. They were there also to hail Mor- ris Leon Radoff, whose remarkable thirty- five year tenure as Archivist of Mary- land—what one writer called the "Radov- ian Regime"—was coming to an end.1 When he arrived in Annapolis in 1939, his domain consisted of a fairly new building, a tiny nucleus of records, and a handful of employees. When he retired, the Hall of Records had become a "small and valu- able empire—a model, energy-charged, over-crowded monument to its long-time head man."2 Leon Radoff was born 10 January 1905. "In Yew-ston," he would have added in the broad, slow accent he deliberately retained for the rest of his life.3 His father, Harry, ran a successful dry goods store. A Jewish immigrant from Russia, the senior Radoff had settled first in Pennsylvania, where a marriage was later arranged for him with Goldie Rabinovich, an intelligent young girl who was an orthodox Jew and the daughter of a rabbi. Jewish customs were faithfully observed at home. Radoff inherited from his mother his love of learning and his wry wit, but he did not share her religious convictions. In fact, he began early to draw away from the Jewish faith, and later became an unabashed agnostic. One might trace this change to the persecution he felt as a child; he was later to relate bitter stories about having rocks thrown at him as he walked to school through Irish-Catholic neighborhoods.4 Radoff attended public school in Hous- ton, did well academically, and enrolled at the University of Texas. He took his junior year abroad, first at the University of Grenoble and then at the Sorbonne. Travelling widely and displaying remark- able linguistic talents, he quickly learned French and Italian. He spent his final undergraduate year at the University of North Carolina, receiving his B.A. in 1926. At the urging of Howard Mumford Jones, another 1925 emigre from Texas, Radoff stayed on at Chapel Hill as a junior instructor and to study for his M.A., granted in 1927. In 1929, attracted by Johns Hopkins University's distinguished faculty and 'James H. Bready, "Honoring Morris Radoff," Baltimore Evening Sun, 10 June 1974. 2"Morris Leon Radoff," Baltimore Evening Sun, 4 December 1978. 3Aubrey C. Land. Interview. "May Conkling Radoff. Interview. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 328 The American Archivist / Fall 1981 graduates, Radoff went to Baltimore to further his career in romance languages and literature. Years later he committed his memories of his university days to paper in "half a dozen sketches"; although unpublished, these sketches are "a delight to those who have seen them in manu- script form."5 He received his Ph.D. in 1932, taught, and published articles in professional journals—all the usual prerequisites for obtaining tenure. In 1936, however, he was let go. Friends said he had been a vic- tim of Depression economics; but Radoff always believed himself to have been a vic- tim of anti-semitism. Johns Hopkins was looking for ways to cut back, Radoff recalled, so they fired all the untenured Jews.6 We will never know whether or not his suspicions were justified; but many promising young men left Hopkins at that time. Jobless, Radoff ate ketchup soup and applied for all manner of work, even- tually finding "refuge against unemploy- ment," like so many of his future col- leagues, in the Historical Records Survey.7 Working under the direction of Robert Morris, Radoff soon became an editor and, with untrained clerical help, pre- pared inventories of the records of Alle- gany, Garrett, and Washington counties in western Maryland. Radoff probably always intended to return to teaching, but on 16 June 1939 he became director of the Maryland Hall of Records, after the death the previous March of its first director, James Robert- son, who knew Radoff and would have been pleased with the choice.8 The following October, Radoff married May Conkling, a shy, Titian-haired beauty, described by many as the "Belle of Balti- more." The newly weds moved first to a rented house in St. Margaret's, near Annapolis, and two and a half years later to the farm Radoff had always dreamed of in nearby Cape St. Claire. Although he would be tempted several times by pres- tigious job offers, Radoff had come to Maryland to stay. The state of Maryland, since the sev- enteenth century, has been concerned about the care and preservation of its rec- ords. However, before 1935 one went to the Maryland Historical Society, the Land Office, or the Court of Appeals to study the history of Maryland, or to the county seats where records were often "ill-housed, and subject to every kind of destructive agent—including disastrous fire." In 1882, the Assembly ordered that all colonial and Revolutionary War records be transferred to the Historical Society, in Baltimore, effectively making that society the state's archival agency. Nearly fifty years passed before anything further was done toward establishing a central archives, and even then there was great opposition, primarily from county officers opposed to sending their records to Annapolis, and from the Land Office and the Historical Society who were reluctant to relinquish their rec- ords. Nevertheless, the Hall of Records Commission was created by Chapter 18 of the Acts of 1935 as "an ex officio body to collect and preserve the historical records of Maryland and to encourage research and investigation in the history of the Province and State."9 A site in Annapolis was chosen, on a corner of the St. John's College campus; the building was opened for business in 1936. Robertson, the first archivist, was enor- mously proud of the Hall of Records. A charter member of the Society of Ameri- can Archivists, he was elected its vice-pres- ident and was busily preparing for its third annual meeting (in Annapolis in October 1939) when he died. During his short tenure, the Hall acquired many 5Aubrey C. Land, et al., Law, Society and Politics in Early Maryland (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1970), p. xi. "Land. Interview. 7 Land, Law, Society and Politics, p . xi. "Gust Skordas. Interview. "First to Fourth Annual Reports of the Maryland Hall of Records, covering 1935-39. These reports, written by Radoff in 1946, contain an excellent summary of the early history of Maryland's archives. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 Morris Leon Radoff 329 valuable and ancient records from the Historical Society and the Land Office. Although of prime interest, these records formed only a small collection occupying altogether no more than a single stack level. Moreover, except for some from Anne Arundel and Baltimore County, the records had been collected from deposi- tories rather than from their offices of origin. So, as his fourth year began, Rob- ertson turned his attention to the counties that had the only substantial collections of early records still outside the Hall of Rec- ords.10 In that fourth year of the Hall of Rec- ords, no public records had been trans- ferred. This was the situation on Radoff s arrival. Coming as he did, virtually at the start, his history and that of the Hall of Records coincide so closely that one can hardly be considered without the other. In addition to the building and the collection, Radoff inherited a valuable asset from the Robertson days in the person of Gust Skordas, who had come to the Hall of Records in August 1937. The two formed a team that worked closely together for thirty-one years. John Hemphill compared their relationship to that of the Army football duo, Blanchard and Davis. Radoff, said Hemphill, was Mr. Outside and Skor- das Mr. Inside. The comparison was apt. Radoff attracted the scholars, and Skordas knew the collections. Radoff had the ideas, and Skordas implemented them." Through Skordas, the assistant achivist, we learn much about the early days of the Hall of Records. He remembers Robert- son as a scholarly, elderly gentleman, very near-sighted, who for some reason had trouble establishing rapport with county clerks. Here Radoff had an advantage, and it may have been the reason he was hired. A letter from W. Stull Holt says that "he is, moreover, a master in the art of human relations. In Anne Arundel County, where he fishes and hunts, he knows personally nearly all the farmers in large sections. This quality enabled him to secure the warm cooperation of county clerks throughout the state when the Sur- vey was doing its field work."12 Skordas, who accompanied Radoff on many of these trips, reports that Radoff charmed the records out of the clerks by promising to replace the originals with high-quality photostats. But local researchers were dis- tressed because, with the records in Annapolis, they would have to travel by ferry across the Chesapeake Bay to consult them. The county clerks had more than a proprietary interest in their records. They were elected officials who could not afford to alienate voters by relinquishing custody of reference materials. Gradually, however, through what Radoff called his "regular propaganda vis- its," they brought the records in, ham- pered only by wartime shortages of gaso- line and tires, which sometimes made use of their station wagon impossible. Then, the records were moved a volume or two at a time by public conveyance.13 In 1943, when Radoff s back gave him trouble, his wife drove until Skordas, under Radoffs tutelage, learned to drive.14 Radoff repeatedly visited all Maryland depositories of archival materials to exam- ine their holdings and study possible divi- sion of functions. Some record custodians later accused him of "casing the joint" to locate records that he would subsequently attempt to acquire. By 1951, his reputa- tion was such that David Mearns (then director of the Manuscript Division of the Library of Congress) remarked that should he disclose the actual identity of a manu- script he was discussing, "the predatory 10"Dr. Robertson, Archivist of State, Is Dead," Baltimore Sun, 21 March 1939; First to Fourth Annual Reports, pp. 36-37. Hereafter, these reports will be referred to as ARl-4; other annual reports of the Hall of Records will be referred to as AR, with the number of the report. "Phebe Jacobsen. Interview. 12W. Stull Holt, Letter to Judge Carroll Bond, 27 March 1939. St. John's College, Annapolis, Stringfellow Barr Papers. 13AR 8, p. 14. "May Conkling Radoff. Interview. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 330 The American Archivist / Fall 1981 Radoff would surely find a way to carry it off."15 But confidence and cooperation were not earned overnight, Radoff observed; they had to be earned by good deeds. Radoff spoke at meetings of historical societies, before women's and men's groups; and he granted interviews to any- one who would listen. He was a popular speaker. Only once was an engagement cancelled—because of a war order pro- hibiting the use of automobiles for pur- poses of pleasure. "The members of the club," said Radoff, "held that the archi- vist's speech would fall into the category of pleasures specifically banned."16 In May 1940 he spoke before the Car- roll County Historical Society, emphasiz- ing the Hall's restoration and repair work and mentioning that the Hall of Records provided space for records without cost— the counties still had title and could have them returned at any time.17 When, in July 1940, one of the original sponsors of the Hall of Records project organized a fight to keep valuable Frederick County records from being moved to Annapolis, Radoff went into high gear.18 A two-col- umn reply in the Frederick Daily News refuted her objections point by point and appealed to the patriotic sentiments of the people of Frederick County.19 In Novem- ber, Radoff held for them a demonstra- tion of r e p a i r a n d c r e p e - l i n i n g techniques,20 and by December all records (with the exception of the one containing the Stamp Act Repudiation) were sent to Annapolis.21 In 1944, after several articles and edi- torials had appeared in the Baltimore Sun deploring the condition of the Baltimore City Courthouse and its records, Radoff wrote to remind everyone of the generous provisions which had been made by the state of Maryland to care for and preserve its records.22 There were still holdouts, however, and in 1945, to overcome the inertia or indifference of local officials, a bill was passed making it mandatory to turn over all records created before the adoption of the Federal Constitution by the Maryland Convention, 28 April 1788. The bill was sorely needed. Not all the counties kept their records safe or even knew where they were. Radoff and Skor- das often found them in deplorable con- dition— in attics or, in one case, under several feet of water. But the records continued to come in, and by 1964 Radoff was able to say in his 27th annual report that every old (in fact, almost every non-current) record of the provincial and state governments was in Hall of Records custody. In 1955, under the direction of Phebe Jacobsen, the Hall of Records stepped up its efforts to acquire church records also, especially those of the Protestant Episcopal Church. With such an aggressive acquisitions policy, it is no surprise that a major con- sideration at the 9 April 1958 meeting of the Hall of Records Commission was the lack of space. It was agreed that a solution might lie in the removal of the Land Office to the new State Office Building just two blocks away. The Land Office had been assigned one-fourth of the total stack area in the Hall, and the choicest part: the entire first deck and half of the second. There was no stack elevator, and the stor- ing on higher levels of more frequently used records was always inconvenient.23 Plans for the removal of the Land Office went forward until a taxpayers' injunction 15David C. Mearns, "The Nitid Crimson," American Archivist 15(April 1952): 141. "Vifl 8, p. 8. ""Plaque Is Unveiled by Historical Society," Westminster Times, 11 May 1940. '""Leads Fight to Curb Removal of Frederick County Records," Baltimore Morning Sun, 11 July 1940. 1 "Morris L. Radoff, letter to the editor, Frederick Daily News, 15 July 1940. ""Demonstrations at Library," Frederick News Post, 12 November 1940. 21"Oldest Court Records to Go in State Files," ibid., 13 December 1940. 22Morris L. Radoff, "Care of State Records," Baltimore Evening Sun, 19 September 1944. 23AR 23, p. 4; AR 24, p. 5. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 Morris Leon Radoff 331 to prevent it was granted. Radoff had advertised the virtues of the Hall of Rec- ords too well, and Louise Magruder, the local genealogist heading the movement, cunningly turned his own arguments against him. The ensuing (and quite col- orful) controversy can be followed as it unfolded in almost daily articles in the Annapolis Evening Capital.24 Despite the injunction, Radoff ordered the move con- tinued pending service of the official doc- uments on members of the Hall of Rec- ords Commission, who had conveniently left town. They were enjoined from using the space vacated by the Land Office, however, pending a court decision. By September, the Land Office was ensconced in its new quarters, but the move had been undertaken so hurriedly that no time had been allowed for the purchase and delivery of shelving, so rec- ords were heaped on the floor. Magruder called for all citizens to "come see what they have done to all the old records," but Radoff anticipated her next move. The delegation was turned back at the door, which stayed locked, under orders from Governor McKeldin, until the records were in proper order. Things were rela- tively quiet until the following July when, because of a faulty air conditioning sys- tem, the humidity in the Land Office rose to 90 percent and Magruder found mold growing on the records. Back on the war- path, she continued to seek a contempt citation and tried unsuccessfully to influ- ence the newly elected Governor Tawes. The court eventually decided in favor of the Hall of Records, and Radoff was able to transfer many historical county records that he had previously been obliged to refuse.25 Radoff always claimed that he regretted the necessity of the move, but compared the division to that of the Public Record Office/British Museum, or the National Archives/Library of Congress. Even though one might want all the rec- ords in one place for convenience, it is not always possible. In the twenty-seventh year of the Hall of Records, now fairly bulging with mate- rial, Radoff turned to a problem that had concerned him for the past twenty years: estrays. In 1948 he had written: We are used to finding our records in every possible place. . . . We have learned in Maryland to face the bitter truth that early records have become a commodity for which there is active demand—they go to the highest bidders. . . . In any case, there is little to be gained by deploring the past. Let those institutions which have rec- ords of their neighbors return them if they wish, but let us remember that they were bought with hard money, raised with difficulty, or were bequeathed along with provisions that they be kept perpetually. Ask for photocopies or microfilm copies and fill as many gaps as possible. Does it make any real difference where the orig- inal is to be found?26 By 1961, however, Radoff was not follow- ing his own advice. Perhaps he was goaded into action by letters containing remarks like this: "Maryland records are certainly well-represented in autograph collections up and down the East Coast. Looking at them I often visualized where they once must have fitted in among your records."27 Radoff was well aware that Maryland records, such as those in the custody of the Library of Congress and the Maryland Historical Society, had been stolen or carried away from unguarded depositories, often under the eyes of indifferent custodians. Some of the thefts were actually the work of the custodians themselves. Nevertheless, he felt person- ally responsible for all Maryland records and was sensitive to the implied criticism in such letters, feeling that they reflected negatively on his stewardship. Radoff always maintained that the records of a "Annapolis Evening Capital, 23 and 30 August, 4, 5, 6, 9, 11, and 13 September 1958; 21, 22, 29 July and 25 November 1959. 25Afl 24, p. 6. 26Morris L. Radoff, "Maryland Protects Records," Richmond Times Dispatch, 10 October 1948. 27AR 27, p. 5. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 332 The American Archivist/ Fall 1981 government belong to that government; unless it voluntarily divests itself of title, it is still owner of the records no matter how far and for how long they have strayed. What was needed, he thought, was a clear decision in a precedent-setting court so that the thousands of state and federal manuscripts, still at large and des- tined to be fought over one by one, could come home quietly.28 For years Radoff had threatened Quincy Mumford, Librarian of Congress, with a friendly suit, or worse yet, "publication of our exchange of correspondence."2 9 Finally, he proposed to sue the Library for return of certain Maryland papers in the Peter Force Collection. The Hall of Rec- ords Commission recommended, however, that a suit be saved as a last resort and that another effort be made to persuade the federal authorities to renounce the papers willingly. That failing, the archivist was authorized to seek their return through a joint resolution of Congress. Predictably, Radoff refused to consider either buying back the documents or trad- ing other records for them. He was in no case willing to alienate the state's title to any of its records.30 The Library of Con- gress, on the other hand, had paid over $100,000 for the Peter Force Collection in 1856 and had no intention of giving up any part of it just because someone in Maryland had been careless years before.31 Mearns recalls that Radoff had a fixation, as if he had taken an oath to regain those records. And of Mumford, Radoff lamented that it was disheartening to be confronted by an individual who contin- ued to deny what was obviously the truth about those records. "I do not think that reason, logic, or persuasion will ever shake his determination to keep these records, although they are obviously Maryland's."32 Initial attempts to get Congress to act failed. In 1969, however, a Marylander became chairman of the Joint Committee on the Library. A hearing was promptly scheduled for 20 May and was attended by Skordas, Mumford, and Elizabeth Hamer. The point was made that the papers were part of a series of the Trea- surer of the Western Shore, of which the Hall of Records possessed the major share. Although Mumford considered Radoff s appeal to Congress "dirty pool"— he knew it would be difficult for the Librarian to oppose members of Congress for very long33—he settled out of court, as it were, and on 3 November 1969 the records were brought to the Hall. Radoff would never volunteer the information that they were only on indefinite deposit, with strict conditions for their upkeep and use.34 Flushed with success, he went after the one collection still at large. The Scharf Collection at the Maryland Historical Society was first given by J. Thomas Scharf in 1891 to the Johns Hopkins Library, so that it might become a "great repository for Southern history." Scharf, at the time commissioner of the Land Office of Maryland, had gathered together a tremendous collection of materials, both printed and manuscript, for writing his histories of Maryland. As collector/custo- dian of many of the records of the state, however, he was apt to confuse his two roles. This problem was recognized as early as 1900, when a report of the Public Archives Commission stated that "many early Maryland documents seem to have disappeared in connection with the research of Scharf, the historian of the state."35 It is suspected that he actively peddled state records to private individu- als, lost others through inattention, gave 28Ibid., pp. 5-8. 29Herb Thompson, "Dispute Over Records," Annapolis Evening Capital, 12 December 1966. 30AR 28, p. 9; AR 32, p. 8. 31David C. Mearns. Interview. 32AR 33, p. 8. 33 Mearns. Interview. 34AR 34, pp. 51-53. 35AR 35, p. 6. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 Morris Leon Radoff 333 others away, and finally took what he wanted. That is why there are so many state government records in his collection, including the 1870-71 tax lists for every county.36 The Johns Hopkins University never achieved the center for Southern studies contemplated by Scharf. After keeping the records thirty years without arrangement or further supplementation, Hopkins deposited them in the Maryland Historical Society. Alerted by Leonard Rapport that among the papers was a let- ter conclusively proving Scharf s intention to sell state documents in his custody, Radoff redoubled his efforts to acquire the papers. If ever there was a case of an irresistible force meeting an immovable object, it was the confrontation between Radoff, archi- vist, and P. William Filby, director of the Maryland Historical Society. Afraid of set- ting a precedent, the Historical Society would not give up the material, which it had acquired legitimately. On the advice of the society's lawyers, correspondence from Radoff was ignored. The two men continued to see each other at meetings of the Maryland Hall of Records Commission however, where Filby was often accused by Radoff of "withholding" records stolen from the Land Office. Filby maintained that the papers belonged to Hopkins still and that the deed of gift prevented their relinquishment. But the Historical Society never refused permission to copy the materials. Some- time in 1972, $5,000 was appropriated by the Department of Public Works to make photocopies. Nearly one-third had already been copied, and half the money spent, before it was realized that photocopying on both sides of the page was a terrible mistake. The papers had never been put in proper order. Reproduced in original sequence, an eighteenth-century docu- ment might appear on one side and a nineteenth-century document on the other. In order properly to merge the collec- tions, one side would have to be recopied. Radoff pronounced the project "useless" and decreed that no more money be spent until the ultimate destination of the Scharf papers was determined. He had, however, changed his mind about suing to ensure their return. "Replevin is a dangerous method to use in recovering manuscripts," he stated, "because it makes for the dis- appearance of records or their sale outside the state. Further, it endangers institutions like the Maryland Historical Socitey which had procured them honestly by purchase or bequest years ago." Later, in 1975, a microfilming project was initiated calling for first combining the Scharf papers with the related Hall of Records papers. It was fully understood, however, that the Scharf papers would be returned when the proj- ect was done. Therefore, without fanfare, without a written agreement and, it should be noted, after the retirement of Radoff, the Scharf papers were put on temporary deposit at the Hall of Records, where they are today.37 When Radoff was appointed archivist in 1939, he described his job as one of "trying to fill in the old blanks and to make the work of future archivists easier by preventing blanks in current records."38 Early in 1940 conversations took place between State Comptroller Tawes and Radoff on how the Hall of Records might be of further use in the preservation of certain government records and the destruction of others. The original act cre- ating the Hall of Records authorized the archivist to accept records or decline them, but did not specify what could be done with the records that were declined.39 As a result of these discussions a bill was introduced into the next legislature and passed in 1941. It provided that when rec- ords were presented for deposit, the Hall 36Morris L. Radoff, "An Elusive Manuscript," American Archivist 30 (January 1967): 64; P. William Filby. Interview. 35'Minutes of the Hall of Records Commission (hereafter referred to as Minutes), 14 December 1972, 22 January 1974, 18June 1974, 12 December 1972, and 6January 1975. 38"Dr. Robertson . . . Is Dead," Baltimore Sun. 39Skordas. Interview. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 334 The American Archivist / Fall 1981 of Records would be the judge of what would be preserved at the Hall of Rec- ords, what retained in the office of origin, and what destroyed. It was by virtue of these new duties that the Hall of Records became something more than a depository for historical records; it was launched into the important and complex problem of the care of almost all the state's records.40 Almost at once space began to run out. By 1946 the lack of space was such a chronic problem that most records offered for deposit could not be kept and were ordered retained in the office of the cus- todian if the archivist felt they were too valuable for destruction. The Hall of Rec- ords had fulfilled its mission of "gathering into one place for preservation all the his- torical records of the state"; but many of the counties had sent their later records as well. Some state agencies wanted to deposit all their non-current records, many of which were only two or three years old. Radoff wondered if the respon- sibilities of the Hall of Records should be officially enlarged to include all non-cur- rent records. As long as there was space in the stacks, there was no pressing need to make such a decision; but with space failing it was clear that if the records were worth keeping, provisions had to be made for housing them. Meanwhile, lack of space was no deter- rent as Radoff continued his efforts to secure for the Hall other official papers of recent origin. In 1947 he persuaded Governor Herbert R. O'Conor to turn over his papers at the end of his first term of office. These were especially valuable since they gave an excellent picture of state activities during World War II. Equally important, a precedent had been established for the quick transfer of exec- utive files, quickness which Radoff hoped would be followed by future governors of the state.41 It was. Governor William Pres- ton Lane, Jr., deposited his papers,42 and Governor Theodore R. McKeldin began sending his while still in office.43 Ironi- cally, Radoff may have been indirectly responsible for the political downfall of Governor Spiro T. Agnew who, as was the custom, turned over his papers when he left office to become Vice President. He was not required by law to do so. Later, when the papers were subpoenaed, Radoff refused to let the original documents leave the Hall; but he did grant the federal prosecutors permission to photocopy them.44 Radoff also made arrangements for the Hall to receive one copy of any state pub- lication. By 1955 he had completed the series for sixty-seven state offices, agen- cies, and institutions.45 In 1949 the state passed an act which, among other things, established a proce- dure for scheduling the periodic destruc- tion of records, defining certain types of non-record materials which could be destroyed when no longer needed.46 Radoff began publishing record retention schedules in his annual reports, emphasiz- ing his concern for preservation by choos- ing to call them retention rather than dis- posal schedules. In 1951, however, the act was amended to allow one clerk of court to dispose of certain land records, thereby seriously challenging Hall of Records authority over the Baltimore City Rec- ords.47 This amendment may have been partially responsible for the destruction in the early 1960s of the chattel records for Baltimore City, the largest single collection of records relating to Civil War Blacks.48 40AR 10, p. 4. 41AR 12, p. 27. 42AR 16, p. 36. "AR 20, p. 33. 44Isaac Rehert, "Troubles Amid State Archives," Baltimore Sun, 21 January 1975. 4-'AR 20, p. 23. 4eAR 14, p. 31. "AR 15, p. 3. 4SSkordas. Interview. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 Morris Leon Radoff 335 Because of the increasing demands of the records management program, and from a desire to offer guidance and advice to state agencies with records problems, Radoff proposed in his 1952 budget a new position, Public Record Examiner, which was created 1 July 1952. He persuaded the governor that the time had come to "step forth boldly" and he proposed to organize a whole system of records dis- posal and records management at one time. Forty-eight thousand dollars was appropriated to conduct a record survey of all Maryland state agencies. Based on that inventory, the Records Management Division of the Hall of Records officially came into being on 1 July 1953.49 A year later, Radoff reported that space was being set aside in two new state office buildings for a records center, areas to be used for the temporary storage of semi- current records. In 1958, when the rec- ords were finally moved, he remarked, "We have embarked on the administration of a records center, a new device invented by the federal government and now adopted for state use (here) and else- where."50 In 1967-68 Maryland organized a con- vention to revise its 100-year-old Consti- tution, providing the Hall of Records with a unique opportunity to assist in the man- agement of all convention records. For- tunately, the historic importance of the proceedings was recognized by its presi- dent. On the advice of Radoff, Sherrod E. East, newly retired from the National Archives, was hired as historian-archivist. East worked closely with the Hall, and they agreed on file boxes, arrangement, and labeling long before the convention began. Radoff was particularly proud of his part in the proceedings and "from the archival viewpoint" he declared it a "text- book operation."51 Records management was soon costing one-third of Radoff s staff and budget. By 1966 the widespread use of computers by state agencies began presenting additional problems in establishing and applying the schedules. Finding himself in unfamiliar territory, Radoff readily cooperated with a committee established by the comptrol- ler of the Treasury to coordinate the development of data processing programs. A COM system was designed calling for machine preparation and maintenance of records schedules, conversion of all source documents to microform, and the deposit of paper records in the records center within thirty days of receipt. With space still a pressing problem, the old Annapolis Armory was used to supplement existing records storage areas.52 Although Radoff reports on COM with enthusiasm and knowledge, he did not want to have much to do with it. Recog- nizing that it was inevitable, however, he chose a young man, Edward Papenfuse, as his successor.53 Records management was getting too big for him to handle, and he no longer had the energy that charac- terized his early years. Records manage- ment as a profession had split from the SAA. Maryland followed the trend and, when Radoff retired, the records manage- ment function was taken from the Hall of Records. Radoff strongly disapproved. In 1955, when he was elected president of the SAA, he had made an eloquent appeal for joint efforts. He felt that records man- agers and archivists were necessary to each other. "We do not share common interests," he said, "we have only one interest; namely, the guardianship of records."54 It is ironic that his very success with the records management program probably led to the takeover of the Hall of Records by the Department of General Services. This was a blow, many believe, from which 49AR 18, p. 18. 5°AR 22, pp. 3-4. "AR 33, pp. 24-25. 5Mfl 34, p. 46. 53Jacobsen. Interview. 54Morris L. Radoff, "What Should Bind Us Together," American Archivist 19 (January 1956): 4. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 336 The American Archivist / Fall 1981 Radoff never fully recovered, and it was certainly a contributing factor in the early retirement of Gust Skordas. Radoff fought the plan as hard as he knew how. "It seemed to me to be duplicating the National Government's plan without any study of how that arrangement had fared," he said, "and both the Society of American Archivists and the American Historical Association feel that the National Archives has done poorly under General Services."55 The Hall of Records had always been an independent agency directly under the governor, and the change lowered its sta- tus. "Why should we be classed in the department that manages buildings, fur- niture, and transportation pools?" he asked in 1974. "We are a cultural service. We should be part of a Department of History and Culture, with Cabinet rank. We shouldn't be bureaucrats."56 The takeover also marked the publica- tion of the last of Radoffs remarkable annual reports which had been favorably reviewed in the American Archivist and were called by Posner, "fine examples of informative reporting strengthened by sound, critical self-inspection."57 George Lewis, head of General Services and Radoffs new boss, had told him that the $950 needed to print the report would no longer be available. In a defiant gesture, Radoff printed the report anyway. Lewis was furious. Although he did not say so, he could not suffer the idea that the Hall of Records, a subsidiary agency, was put- ting out a report twice the size of that of the whole department of General Services. Radoff, on the other hand, was astute enough to realize that lack of such a rel- atively small amount of money was not the real problem. Insufficient funds had been a problem at the Hall ever since the begin- ning. Under the governor, their appro- priations had never been cut because Radoff had earned an outstanding repu- tation for honest budgeting. Gust Skordas actually prepared the budgets; but "the toughest budget hearing of all," he recalled, "was when I had to justify the budget to Dr. Radoff." Even in lean years, money had always been found for publi- cation of the annual reports.58 Gathering records was important only if they were to be used. That meant pre- paring them for use. In 1937 a fumigation unit was installed and crepe-lining was done both to preserve fragile records and to allow them to be handled. Robertson had recommended purchase of the Bar- row laminator, but died before it was installed; and Radoff, unconvinced of the technique's reliability, delayed its purchase until Bureau of Standards tests proved it to his satisfaction.59 Barrow often showed up at the Hall to demonstrate his tech- nique himself.60 In 1952, Radoff boasted: "It has always been our feeling that the quality of our repair work, primarily lam- ination, was excellent—perhaps unsur- passed by any other archival establish- ment."61 He knew, of course, that a lam- inated and rebound record does not look or feel like the original, but he deliberately chose to make the records serviceable, sac- rificing some of their antique appearance. "After twenty years," he said, "we do not regret the choice." Binding, too, was done on-site after 1952, though Radoff had to resign himself to the higher cost compared with that done commercially. He justified it to his own satisfaction, however, by claiming the bindery was necessary for daily repairs, mats, maps, and trimming. "It is comfort- ing too," he remarked, "that so long as we bind and repair, none of our records need ever be out of our possession. It is not ™AR 34, p . 9. 5 6 Rehert, "Troubles," Baltimore Sun. " E r n s t Posner, American State Archives (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1964), p . 138. 5 8Skordas. Interview. 59Aft 6, p . 18. eoAR 11, p . 13. 61AR 17, p . 3 1 . D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 Morris Leon Radoff 337 possible to estimate the price of the safety of unique records, but it is surely a factor worth considering."62 The Maryland Hall of Records was certainly a pioneer in the field of archival repair, with one of the best departments in the country. It attracted hundreds of visitors each year. In spite of this reputation, when Liber B from the Peter Force Collection was found to be in need of repair, the Library of Congress refused Radoff permission to do it. A messenger was sent to hand-carry the papers to the Library for lamination."3 It wasn't worth it. Comparison with adjacent records today shows clearly that the Hall of Records work is superior. From the first day the Hall opened, rec- ords were preserved by photoduplication, and later by microfilming on photo- graphic equipment belonging to the Land Office. Microfilming was done for insur- ance purposes, to film materials too costly or otherwise unavailable for use, to con- serve the original material, and to pre- serve the accuracy of government papers. In 1952 Radoff reported "with relief the end of the photostat project for all county land records dated prior to 1788, gaining for the Hall a full set of the originals, repaired and rebound where necessary, and for the counties, newly made and bound photostatic copies. Microfilming, taken over by the Records Management Division in 1953, was the preferred proc- ess after that early project was completed. Beginning in 1947, the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints had sponsored a project to microfilm all the land and probate records of Maryland up to 1850, the last year in which they had any theo- logical interest. All records after 1949 hav- ing been microfilmed as a matter of course by the Hall of Records, it only remained to keep the current records up to date and to fill in the period between 1850 and 1950. The series, now complete, is a rich source of information for researchers. Making the materials physically avail- able was only half the problem. Intellec- tual access had to be provided as well. Radoff believed that, in a broad sense, everything done at the Hall of Records was an aid to research. "When records are moved from a dark, airless courthouse vault or from an office which is too busy to answer inquiries, these records are already more available because of the addition of air and light or the services of an experienced attendant."64 During Radoff s first year, a department was set up to receive new material, and a system- atic accession procedure was established. Gust Skordas was in charge. After Radoff had completed negotiations, Skordas was responsible for the preliminary lists of rec- ords made before the transfer and for the final inventory after their arrival at the Hall. He supervised the transfer and was responsible, with the archivist, for care of materials in transit. The collections were arranged and boxed, and lists of the con- tents placed therein. The lists were then mimeographed, to provide almost instant access to the collections. "It would be easy enough to accept all such papers, place them in the stacks and forget them," Radoff remarked, "but it is hardly worth- while to preserve such collections without making them available. It is because a good number of archival agencies have followed this method in the past that archival 'discoveries' are more often made there than elsewhere."65 Radoff would not permit accumulation of a large backlog. Even with Work Projects Administration (WPA) workers to assist him, Skordas tried to carry too much of the load himself and suffered a heart attack.66 He recovered completely, however, and with the help of both WPA and National Youth Adminis- tration (NYA) workers was able to begin «2AR 25, p. 30. mMinutes, 12 December 1972. MAR 5, p. 17. 6SIbid.,p. 11. 66Jacobsen. Interview. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 338 The American Archivist / Fall 1981 the huge task of indexing the wealth of materials on deposit. When possible, exist- ing indexes were photocopied or rehabi- litated, but new indexes were made when there were none. During Radoffs first year, the first of an admirable series of publications appeared, Liber A of the Records of Prince Georges County Court. Calendars, indexes, and catalogs soon followed. Publication No. 2, A Catalogue of Archival Material (1942) anticipates modern theories of archival practice in that records are arranged by groups and subgroups, pref- aced by a brief account of the office that created them. "There is no index, because an index to records whose contents are not analyzed is of small value and such an index would have required an exorbitant expenditure of time and effort."67 In his annual report for 1941, Radoff announced the forthcoming sale of Calendar #1, The Black Books, the first of the "Rainbow Series," so called because of their colorful bindings. Later calendars were the Blue, Brown, and Red Books. Radoff supervised the work, but "undertook as a personal enterprise only one, the unorthodox but interesting Calendar of the Bank Stock Papers, a successful experiment in prepar- ing a calendar dealing with one subject but including materials from several sources."68 Radoffs technique received national attention when his "A Guide to Practical Calendaring" was serialized in volume 11 (1948) of the American Archivist, "A Guide to Practical Calendaring," in number 2 (April) and continued as "A Practical Guide to Calendaring," in number 3 (July). From the evidence, one might think he was a great believer in the practice. Papenfuse thinks, however, that he used calendars as a vehicle to show what could be done with a collection entrusted to him. He particularly wanted to show up the Maryland Historical Society, which had neither the staff nor the time to prepare elaborate finding aids. In 1948 the Hall began, at the gover- nor's request, to edit the Maryland Manual, the official Maryland directory, a compi- lation of historical and other information about Maryland that is normally published biennially. For a while, the Hall served also as an information center, until Radoff, in desperation, helped organize a Depart- ment of Information, which, when it opened in February 1948, relieved the Hall of the burden of replying to the 1,001 questions asked by schoolchildren and prospective tourists. The Hall then gladly gave up publication and distribu- tion of such pamphlets as "Triton Beach, Let's Go Fishing," and "Maryland, Haven for Horselovers."69 One project got Radoffs particular attention: an attempt to continue the WPA's work by publishing a new edition of Maryland: A Guide to the Old Line State. The project began in 1953, but was beset with problems, including a limited staff and problems with the publisher. Not until 1975 was a rough draft completed. In the preface, Papenfuse credits Radoff with keeping the ideal alive and says that "without his perseverance, the project would have been forgotten."70 Radoff published extensively himself and encour- aged his staff to do likewise. He was inter- ested most particularly in preservation, and he was, without doubt, proudest of his books County Courthouses and Records of Maryland and The State House at Annapo- lis.71 But all these things—the manuscript collection, the vast amount of public rec- ords recent and past, the indexes and other publications, the preservation pro- gram— were for one purpose, the aid of scholarship. In that aid, Radoff was pas- 67 Publication No. 2, Catalogue of Archival Material, Hall of Records, State of Maryland (Annapolis: Hall of Records Commission, 1942). 6 8 Land, Law, Society and Politics, p . xv. 6Mi? 13, p. 49. "Writer's Program, Work Projects Administration, Maryland: A New Guide to the Old Line State (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1976), p. xiv. "Skordas. Interview. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 Morris Leon Radoff 339 sionately interested. The ideal state archives, he felt, would combine the rig- orous scholarship of a historical society with the rich Southern traditional concern for family history.72 In the early days, genealogists made up 90-95 percent of Hall of Records clientele, Skordas reports, and Radoff tried continually to stimulate various Maryland colleges to encourage their graduates to use Hall of Records materials. He was particularly upset by the decline in circulation after World War II and the Korean War, and he felt real frus- tration in trying to increase the accessibil- ity of records, only to have scholars ignore them.73 Even as late as 1965 he was chid- ing historians because no decent history of Maryland had been written since Matthew Page Andrews wrote his in 1929.74 Aubrey Land remembers that Radoff felt that a proper archives ought to be a home-away- from-home for visiting scholars. Radoff personally led guided tours. He believed that archivists and their staffs should be prepared to offer scholars guidance, not only with the records themselves but in the actual structure of their research. He was probably at his best, and certainly his happiest, when he talked and visited with young scholars. Radoff never got over not being a teacher. His ambition was for the Hall to sponsor a program like the Grand Seminar at Johns Hopkins, where faculty and students could present their research problems and discuss them.75 Negotiations with the University of Maryland failed. He was able to establish with Ernst Posner at American University, a continuing rela- tionship that began casually in 1943 and was formalized in 1945. Posner's class in archival administration and techniques (sponsored jointly by American Univer- sity, the National Archives, and the Hall of Records) typically spent three days in Annapolis studying indexing, preserva- tion, and reproduction. John Hemphill and scholars like him remember that Radoff had a knack for dealing with people, and consider that his finest skill. Not everyone would agree. Vernon Tate, formerly librarian at the U.S. Naval Academy, accurately observed that sometimes Radoff had "all the finesse of a bull in a china shop." Both views are true. A diplomat in his dealings with the counties, a master of public relations, a gifted scholar and dedicated teacher, he was also a shrewd politician, managing the Board of the Hall of Records with con- summate skill, using them as foils when required and flattering them each year in his annual report.76 He did not suffer fools gladly, however, nor would he tol- erate any lack of professionalism. His relations with those in whom he detected these flaws were stormy.77 From the old- school of management, he liked to keep his employees off balance, and practiced the technique of divide and conquer, which invariably caused ruffled feathers, hard feelings, and, sometimes, deep hurt. In 1964, while the Hall was preparing to celebrate Radoff s twenty-fifth anniver- sary, he suffered the first of three strokes. He recovered and returned to work, but the illness had slowed his speech, sapped his energy, and affected his productivity. Although he was cynical and inclined to be pessimistic most of his life,78 those who knew him in later years believed the strokes also changed his outlook on life. Radoff s introduction to the 1965 edition of Andrews' History is a case in point.79 Throughout, Radoff exhibits a preoccu- 72Jacobsen. Interview. "Edward C. Papenfuse. Interview. 74Matthew Page Andrews, History of Maryland: Province and State (Garden City, N.Y.: Doubleday, Doran & Co., Inc., 1929); ibid., new edition, Introduction by Morris L. Radoff (Hatboro, Pa.: Tradition Press, 1965). "Land. Interview. 76Papenfuse. Interview. 77John M. Hemphill. Interview. 78Skordas. Interview. 79See note 74, above. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 340 The American Archivist / Fall 1981 pation with illness and a pervading sense of the futility of life."0 A few years later he said: It seems a sad ending to a long, profes- sional career. I began as a lexicographer and spent long months writing a doctoral dissertation on farce and comedy in the French renaissance. Now my career is ending and I spend long hours filling out forms with multiple carbons. I hate to think of myself as a bureaucrat. A state archivist ought to be a very important official.81 Contradictions begin to turn up more frequently in his writings. His annual reports and the minutes of the Hall of Records Commission sometimes describe the same meeting in curiously different ways. What appear to be pathological about-faces in his ideas about replevin are hard to explain. Radoff spent his last five years trying to hold on and to survive.82 Retiring reluctantly at age seventy, he planned to continue his research and writ- ing, but, although he came in almost every day, he never felt welcome at the Hall. Papenfuse tried to make him comfortable, but Radoff was used to running the place and could not accept not doing it. It was a conflict bound to arise, and one for which there could be no solution. He passed the time instead with his vegetable and herb gardens and hunting with his dogs on the Eastern Shore farm he had bought in 1961. Gradually he began to rediscover the faith he had abandoned years before. He and his wife visited Israel, and he later sought and was granted permission to be buried in the Jewish cemetery outside Annapolis. He remembered his mother in his will by setting up a generous endow- ment in her name for the benefit of the Israeli Archives. He had apparently rec- onciled himself to his faith and his fate, because six weeks before his death on 2 December 1978 he told his old friend Aubrey Land, "I'm ready, anytime."83 He left as his legacy one of the greatest archival establishments in the nation, hav- ing created both a personal and institu- tional record of unparalleled accomplish- ment."4 A scholar-administrator, Morris Radoff was also publisher, editor, book- man, connoisseur, lobbyist, bon vivant, and outdoorsman. But, above all, he was an archivist "as good at looking forward as back."85 With the help of his hand- picked staff he fought an uphill battle to create a viable archival institution where there was none, working with lethargic state bureaucracies and fighting reluctant localities.8" He described himself only as a pioneer making a road through the for- est. He was confident that others would follow his lead and bring things to perfec- tion.87 80I thank Edward Papenfuse for pointing this out to me. 8'Quoted in Rehert, "Troubles," Baltimore Sun. 82Papenfuse. Interview. 83Land. Interview. 84Edward C. Papenfuse, "Morris Leon Radoff," American Archivist 42 (April 1979): 263. 85"Morris L. Radoff," Baltimore Evening Sun, 4 December 1978. 8<iPapenfuse. Interview. 87Jacobsen. Interview. MARCIA D. TALLEY was catalog librarian and curator of special collections at St. John's College Library, Annapolis, Maryland. In mid-July 1981, she became an assistant project-manager for TELE-SEC Library Services Group, based in Washington, D.C. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.44.4.t77646t842knt831 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 
work_3bqkrd7ikndhrl755rjtvovwua	----	1 A History of Erotic Philosophy Alan Soble The most striking distinction between the erotic life of antiquity and our own . . . [is] that the ancients laid the stress upon the instinct itself, whereas we emphasize its object. The ancients glorified the instinct and were prepared on its account to honour even an inferior object; while we despise the instinctual activity in itself, and find excuses for it only in the merits of the object. Sigmund Freud, Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality (note, 1910) In the last quarter of the 20th Century a distinct subarea of philosophy arose. Professional books and articles on the philosophy of sex were published during this period. University courses devoted to the topic proliferated. 1 Questions addressed by academic philosophers included the ontological and analytic, for example, “What is sexual activity?” or “How to define ‘sex act’?” -- an issue that the public discussed, too, after President William Clinton denied that he had “sexual relations with that woman,” Monica Lewinsky. Academic philosophers also addressed normative or evaluative questions, such as “What is natural human sexuality?” (in contrast to “perverted” sexuality) and “What is morally right or permissible sexual behavior?” This new focus of study emerged partially with second-wave feminism’s criticism of the politics of heterosexuality and sex discrimination and with the slowly growing legal and social acceptance (including network television) of minority sexualities. Scholars working within the phenomenological, existentialist, evolutionary, conservative, Marxist, liberal, feminist, and diverse theological traditions have written much about the metaphysics and ethics of sexuality, although the philosophy of sex remains eclectic and interdisciplinary, not wedded to any particular ideological perspective. In addition to studying specific ontological and moral issues, scholars can also approach the philosophy of sex historically. In this project, they explicate the writings of significant figures from the past, fashioning into a coherent whole what might resemble a loose set of scattered claims. Or they investigate the thought of a philosopher to discern characteristics of the period or culture in which he or she wrote. Or they use this history as a mirror (or even as a lamp) to see contemporary practices and ideas more clearly or freshly. Another task is tracing an argument, theme, or problem (e.g., the nature of sexual desire or arousal) through a series of thinkers, showing how it stays the same and how it gets modified over the centuries. Philosophers of sexuality have concentrated, so far, on definitional and evaluative matters. The history of the philosophy of sex is the least developed part of the field. Human sexuality is, of course, a topic that is endlessly discussed and over which people argue ad libitum et nauseum, not only at scholarly conferences but also in the local tavern or coffee shop. The subject is not owned by professional philosophers. Indeed, the glossy volumes on the shelves of mall bookstores are written by ordinary people, amateurs, and popularizers of evolutionary, psychological, sociological, and theological thought on sexuality. What is the difference, if one exists, between professional philosophical examination of sexuality and your mother’s “philosophy” of sex or the “philosophy” of sex of the corner grocer? One view is that the spirit of Socrates (ca. 469-399 BCE) informs genuinely philosophical thinking about sex: 2 emphasizing precision, being willing to challenge received opinion, and persistently searching for elusive, hidden truths. But it must be admitted that some non-philosophers manifest this spirit as well, and that it is not always exhibited by those traditionally called “philosophers” or those formally trained in philosophy. My presentation in this essay of a history of philosophizing about sexuality, by focusing on writers identified as canonical philosophers, is not meant to slight the contributions of other disciplines or to imply that what this small group of writers produced is more illuminating. The problem might be the reverse: “Ask if it's sex or power that makes the world go round, and you can keep the pub open long after licensing hours; in a philosophy seminar, the same question is likely to produce only rolled eyes” (Appiah, 1997, p. 5). While I am exploring the history of the philosophy of sex, I attempt to show that not only philosophers but also their compatriots in other fields have said interesting things about sex. For example, in 1929 James Thurber (1894- 1961) and E. B. White (1899-1985) wrote a small book (Is Sex Necessary?), a parody of the new, early-20th-century psychology of sex. We can surely learn from this book, even though it was designed to amuse. A man delays marriage, Thurber and White observe, because he has the suspicion that if he waited twenty-four hours, or possibly less, he would likely find a lady even more ideally suited to his taste than his fiancée. Every man entertained such a suspicion. Entertained it royally. He was greatly strengthened in his belief by the fact that he kept catching a fleeting glimpse of this imaginary person in restaurants, in stores, in trains. To deny the possibility of her existence would be, he felt, to do a grave injustice to her, to himself, and to his fiancée. (1975, pp. 96-99) Thurber and White are not canonical philosophers, but Søren Kierkegaard (1813-1855) is. In Fear and Trembling (1983, p. 91), nearly a hundred years before Thurber and White, he had similarly written: A man is bound to one girl whom he once loved or perhaps never loved properly, for he has seen another girl who is the ideal. A man makes a mistake in life; it was the right street but the wrong house, for directly across the street on the second floor lives the ideal this is supposed to be a subject for poetry. A lover has made a mistake, he has seen the beloved by artificial light and thought she had dark hair, but look, on close scrutiny she is a blonde but her sister is the ideal. This is supposed to be a subject for poetry. In my opinion, any man like that is an impudent young pup who can be unbearable enough in life but ought to be hissed off stage. Where is the difference in their “philosophies” or their approach? Perhaps only that Thurber and White make us laugh at ourselves, while Kierkegaard, the solemn Christian, scorns our wayward tendencies. Thurber and White also broach a perennial conundrum, the difference, if any, between sexually desiring someone and loving him or her: At a certain point in every person’s amours, the question arises: “Am I in love, or am I merely inflamed by passion?” It is a disturbing question. Usually it arises at some inopportune moment: at the start of a letter, in the middle of an embrace, at the end of a day in the country. If the person could supply a direct, simple, positive answer -- if he could say convincingly, “I am in love,” or, 3 “This is not love, this is passion” -- he would spare himself many hours of mental discomfort. Almost nobody can arrive at so simple a reply. (1975, p. 62) Among plenty of other scholars, the contemporary philosopher J. Martin Stafford takes on this challenge (but humorlessly), contrasting, with a “simple reply,” passion and love: love is a special affection, involves acts of prolonged care and concern, and includes wanting to spend quality time with (and only with) the beloved, while sexual desire is merely an appetite that demands satisfaction, at any place and time, and implies nothing about good will toward other people (1995, p. 58; see Lesser, 1980). Perhaps this easy answer is right, even though Thurber and White are concerned not with conceptual analysis or definitions, but with the phenomenal feels of love and sexual desire (which are, they suggest, often indistinguishable). Some philosophers will also wonder whether sexual desire might have the ability to generate the benevolence that is usually associated with love, and will ask whether it is really true that love by its nature is more constant and exclusive than sexual desire (Soble, 1990). One more example. Iris Murdoch was formally trained as a philosopher, wrote some straight philosophy at the start of her career, and then turned to the novel, where she was a huge success. Should Murdoch be included among the canonical philosophers of sex? Probably, even though this permits other novelists, for example Philip Roth and Doris Lessing, to enter that elite group, if only because Murdoch’s novels are especially philosophical. Look at a passage in The Black Prince (1974, pp. 216-17), which contains some reflections of her protagonist, Bradley Pearson (a 60-ish intellectual, head-over-heels in love, or lust, with a girl forty years his junior): The foreverness of real love is one of the reasons why even unrequited love is a source of joy. The human soul craves for the eternal of which, apart from certain rare mysteries of religion, only love and art can give a glimpse. . . . Love brings with it also a vision of selflessness. How right Plato was to think that, embracing a lovely boy, he was on the road to the Good. I say a vision of selflessness, because our mixed nature readily degrades the purity of any aspiration. But such insight, even intermittent, even momentary, is a privilege and can be of permanent value because of the intensity with which it visits us. . . . Why cannot this release from self provide a foothold in a new place which we can then colonize and enlarge until at last we will all that is not ourselves? That was Plato’s dream. The lesson is that we would not do badly by paying some attention to literature as we explore the history of the philosophy of sex. The psychological issue raised by Murdoch creating a high justification for his impossible attachment? we can bequeath to his psychoanalyst. The Ancient Greeks Although philosophical discussion of sexuality, narrow-construed, in the West began with Plato (427-347 BCE), the poet Sappho (ca. 610-580 BCE), for reasons I’ve explained, should not be slighted. Her ideas re-appear in later canonical philosophers: When I behold thee Even a moment; 4 Utterance leaves me; My tongue is useless; A subtle fire Runs through my body; My eyes are sightless, And my ears ringing; I flush with fever, And a strong trembling Lays hold upon me; Paler than grass am I, Half dead for madness. (Carman, 1904, fragment VI) Sappho is tongued-tied, made catatonic by eros, driven crazy by a glimpse of Beauty. We come across this theme often in the history of the philosophy of sex. Eros perennially and ubiquitously causes irrational behavior. Why did a U.S. president slink around the White House in search of sexual experiences? Why did beautiful Helen take up with handsome Paris, leaving family, child, and husband? (Or was she seduced, or abducted? See Homer, Iliad, bk. 3.) Why did Murdoch’s Bradley Pearson, although not tongue-tied by eros, fall to his knees, kissing the rug upon which his young angel had recently stood? Plato’s dialogue Symposium examines eros, which he defined as the passion to possess the good and beautiful. The Symposium is provocative and rich, an indispensable foundation for studying the philosophy of sex. Although in large measure a great pagan defender of eros, Plato was not always kind to the sexual impulse. His writings contain the roots of the later Christian antipathy to sexuality. For example, the distinction Plato makes in the dialogue Symposium between crude (or vulgar) eros and heavenly (or spiritual) eros, first mentioned by Pausanias (who was willing, in Freud’s words [see the epigraph], to “honor even an inferior object”), and embellished by the priestess Diotima (who was not willing to do so), encourages us to relinquish sexual acts in personal relationships and focus, instead, on morally and intellectually improving ourselves and our partners. In contrast to vulgar eros, heavenly eros is free from wantonness, lust, or lewdness (Symp. 181c-181d, 185c, 209b-210c). In heavenly eros, “the lover and his [mentally beautiful] loved one . . . make virtue their central concern.” In Plato’s Republic (403a- 403b), Socrates tells Glaucon that in “the right kind of love . . . sexual pleasure mustn’t come into it, . . . if they are to love and be loved in the right way.” The same rejection of sexual activity is expressed by Plato in his complex dialogue Phaedrus (256b-256c), in which his protagonist, Socrates, insists that a pair of genuine lovers pursue virtue. Only when overcome by weakness of the will (akrasia) or disinhibited by a cup of wine will they engage in sex: If the victory goes to the better elements in both their minds, which lead them to follow the assigned regimen of philosophy, their life here below is one of bliss. . . . They are modest and fully in control of themselves. . . . If, on the other hand, they adopt a lower way of living, with ambition in place of philosophy, then pretty soon when they are careless because they have been drinking or for some other reason, the pair’s undisciplined horses will catch their souls off guard and together bring them to commit that act which ordinary people would take to be the happiest choice of all; and when they have consummated it once, they go on doing this for the rest of their lives, but sparingly, since they have not approved of what they are doing with their whole minds. 5 Knowledge and excellence should be the goal, not fleeting and distracting physical gratification. Plato, in both Symposium and Phaedrus, praises male-male love or friendship, and his objection to male-male sexuality in Phaedrus seems not to be grounded in its unnaturalness. Instead, any sexuality is less valuable than pursuing virtue. The children of sexual intercourse do not have the substance, and the immortality, of the children of intellectual discourse. Christian clerics later scorned women and marriage for much the same reason. Plato worried about sexuality also because he was sensitive to its links with power and autonomy. His thoughts about sex eventually become central issues in the political and medical discussion of sexuality in the 20th Century (Gould, 2006; Price, 1989; Santas, 1988; Soble, 1996, pp. 146-148). Plato bemoans the powerful governing influence and even, at times, the absolute sovereignty that pursuing sexual pleasure can have on a person’s actions and life. We become slaves to passion and subservient to others, a distinct threat to freedom and thus the happy life. In the Symposium (183b) Pausanias points out, “In the pursuit of his love . . . the lover [may] do many strange things. . . . He may pray, and entreat, and supplicate, and swear, and lie on a mat at the door, and endure a slavery worse than that of any slave.” Socrates (Phaedrus 252a) similarly observes that the soul of the lover will never forsake his beautiful one, whom he esteems above all; . . . and he thinks nothing of the neglect and loss of his property; the rules and proprieties of life, on which he formerly prided himself, he now despises, and [he] is ready to sleep like a servant, wherever he is allowed, as near as he can to his desired one, who is the object of his worship. We can laugh at the adolescent antics, inspired by eros (Becky as Beauty), portrayed in Mark Twain’s (1835-1910) Tom Sawyer, or in Giuseppe Tornatore’s 1988 film “Cinema Paradiso.” And we can sardonically acknowledge that American television plays the power of adulterous sexual passion for all it is worth. Yet the compulsive, destructive desire (Tadzio as Beauty) in Thomas Mann’s (1875-1955) Death in Venice is sobering. Aristotle (384-322 BCE) meditates at great length in his Nicomachean Ethics (books 8 and 9) about philia, or friendship-love, arguing that genuine friends seek the good for each other and improve each other’s virtue. Given his interest in moral-psychological relationships, that Aristotle said little about sexuality is surprising. Several passages in his texts, though, are noteworthy (Sihvola, 2002). Aristotle understands sexual desire as an appetite, as analogous to the appetites for food and drink. Others in the history of the philosophy (Augustine and Kant) also conflated sex, eating, and drinking as the same kind of thing, animal appetites. After the Greeks, many philosophers and theologians similarly embraced a view of human sexuality that put it on the disreputable material side in the divide between mind and flesh. But others, as we shall see, disagreed. Aristotle is also well known for his ethics of moderation. The virtue of temperance is concerned with, among other things, the control of the appetites for food, drink, and sex (Geach, 1977, pp. 131-149; Halwani, 2007). Without reason’s guidance, satisfying the appetites can be harmful. Excessive attention to desire is bestial and degrading, because desire belongs to humans http://www.imdb.com/name/nm0868153/ 6 not qua a rational being but qua animal. Temperant people discover the “mean” between excess and deficit in the satisfaction of appetite, avoiding both gluttony and starvation. But Aristotle claims, “mistaking on the side of deficiency as regards [sexual] pleasure, and taking less than the proper amount of delight in them, does not occur often.” “Such insensitivity is not human” (NE 1119a6-7). Aristotle, that is, worries more about virtue being undermined by too much sexual desire and activity than by too little sexual desire and activity. Plato’s concerns about sexuality undermining autonomy and happiness here bear fruit. Indeed, abstaining from sex, far from being a deficit-violation of moderation, eventually becomes the holy virtue of chastity in Christianity. (In the late 20th Century, the American Psychiatric Association reversed this view, proclaiming “hypoactive sexual desire” a mental disorder [DSM-IV 302.71]. But not “hyperactive sexual desire” -lived flirtation with “sexual addiction” in DSM- III-R [1980, p. 296].) Medieval Theology After the ancients, St. Augustine (354-430) made a lasting impact on the philosophy of sex, so his writings deserve sustained attention. As Plato did, Augustine bemoaned the threat posed to individual peace and self-mastery by sexuality: “[Sexual] lust not only takes possession of the whole body and outward members, but also makes itself felt within. . . . So possessing . . . is this pleasure, that at the moment of time in which it is consummated, all mental activity is suspended” (City of God, bk. 14, chap. 16). As the Yiddish joke has it, when the penis steht, the brain goes out the window (or “when the penis is hard, the brains are soft”; Silverstein, 1984, p. 35). Only by the grace of God, says Augustine, can we control our sexuality (Confessions, bk. 10, chap. 29). Augustine has often been the sexual liberal’s whipping boy, but not without good reason. Consider this piece of “sex negativity”: A man turns to good use the evil of concupiscence . . . when he bridles and restrains its rage . . . and never relaxes his hold upon it except when intent on offspring, and then controls and applies it to the carnal generation of children . . . not to the subjection of the spirit to the flesh in a sordid servitude. (On Marriage and Concupiscence, bk. 1, chap. 9) Further, it was Augustine who notoriously wrote about married sexual activity carried out only for pleasure that in these acts the wife is the man’s harlot and the man is the wife’s adulterous lover (OM, bk. 1, chap. 17). How did Augustine arrive at his philosophy? We must examine it in the context of the late 4th and early 5th centuries, when three Christian schools of thought existed. First, the right- wing extremism of St. Jerome (340/42-420 BCE; educated in Rome, became an ascetic hermit in the Holy Land, and produced the Vulgate Bible). Second, the left-wing, even radical, disciples of Pelagius (354-ca. 420/440): Julian, Bishop of Eclanum (386-455), and the monk Jovinian (died ca. 406), who was excommunicated by Siricius (334-399) in part for arguing that marriage was as holy as chastity and that Mary, in giving birth to Jesus, lost her virginity. Third, the moderates, Augustine and St. Ambrose (337/340-397), Bishop of Milan, who baptized Augustine in 387 (Clark, 1986, 1996; Pagels, 1988; Ranke-Heinemann, 1990). 7 The matter under dispute was not: Did Adam and Eve have sexual relations before the Fall? The consensus, based on Genesis’s silence, was “no.” Instead, a sophisticated hypothetical question was hotly debated: if Adam and Eve had not fallen, would they have had sex in Eden? Or (nearly equivalently) if Adam and Eve had stayed longer in Eden, would they eventually have engaged in sex? And, if they would have engaged in sex, what would their sexual relations have been like? The theological methodology presupposed by all parties assumed that in order to fashion a Christian sexual ethics, one must understand the pre-Fall (prelapsarian) sexuality of Adam and Eve, for they were in the original, ideal state of humanity. What humans living after the Fall should do is emulate Adam and Eve. Jerome argued that had Adam and Eve not fallen, they never would have had sex: all sexuality results from the Fall, infected by man’s corrupt postlapsarian nature. Sex was not part of God’s plan for humans. Ideally, then, we should abstain. Agreeing with St. Paul’s (ca. 5-64) epistle 1 Corinthians 7, Jerome did not fear the disappearance of mundane humans, who in God’s script are destined to disappear anyway. For Jerome, the good of postlapsarian marriage was that it produced virgins for the Church: “Virginity is to marriage what fruit is to the tree” (Against Jovinian; Schaff, 1892, p. 347). Adam and Eve would not have engaged in sex in Eden because they were immortal; there was no need for replacement. The commandment in Genesis 1:28, “Be fruitful and increase in number,” which God had issued to the animals (1:22), meant something else, according to Jerome, when God proclaimed it to Adam and Eve: be spiritually fruitful and increase your virtue. Augustine agreed with Jerome that Genesis 1:28 partly meant that Adam and Eve should be spiritually fruitful (Clark, 1986, p. 149), perhaps in Plato’s sense. But Augustine also thought that God wanted Adam and Eve to have sex and children in Eden (COG, bk. 14, chap. 21). He was not concerned that immortal parents bearing immortal children bearing immortal children would cause population or environmental problems for the infinite riches of Paradise. (Nor did Paul VI [1897-1955] fear this when he reiterated the Catholic prohibition of contraception is his 1968 encyclical “Humanae vitae.”) Besides, why did God create Eve? As Mark Twain (2000) pondered, in effect, “Why not another guy with whom Adam could shoot hoops?” Augustine saw the obvious implications of God’s making Adam and Eve, not Adam and Steve. Eve was created not only to be Adam’s companion but also for human procreation. (A really smart God, though, would have given her a hook shot in addition to a uterus.) Augustine, then, argued against Jerome that prelapsarian Adam and Eve would have had sex. God intended sex to exist in the ideal state and not only in our corrupt postlapsarian state. What emerged after the Fall was not sexuality itself but spiritually diseased sexuality, even the sexuality that occurs in marriage. The driving, enslaving nature of postlapsarian sexuality, its demand for pleasure and the frustrations that accompany failure are, for Augustine, part of the punishment that Adam and Eve (and all humanity) undergo for disobeying God. Augustine gives us a taste of this damnation from his own life: I came to Carthage, where a cauldron of illicit loves . . . boiled around me. I was not yet in love, but I was in love with love. . . . My longing then was to love and to be loved, but most when I obtained the enjoyment of the body of the person who loved me. Thus I polluted the stream of 8 friendship with the filth of unclean desire and sullied its limpidity with the hell of lust. . . . I did fall in love, simply from wanting to. . . . I was loved, and our love came to the bond of consummation: I wore my chains with bliss but with torment too, for I was scourged with the red hot rods of jealousy, with suspicions and fears and tempers and quarrels. (Conf., bk. 3, chap. 1) Augustine thought that eventually people should refrain from sex and procreation, not right after the Fall but after the proper number of saints had come into existence, which Augustine thought had happened by the time of Christ. Unlike Jerome, Augustine had to explain Adam and Eve’s not having sex before the Fall. He supposed they did not have enough time, eating the forbidden fruit too soon after being created. And notice that God’s command for them to be fruitful did not specify any particular time for its fulfillment. The important result of the Fall was that flesh became ascendant over the will. The flesh rebels against human spirit the way Adam and Eve had rebelled against God. One of Augustine’s examples of the victory of rebellious flesh is that men often cannot get erections when they want one, which is disastrous because they then burn with desire; and men often get erections when they do not want one, and are embarrassed by their organ’s uncontrollability (COG, bk. 14, chap. 16; OM, bk. 1, chap. 7). Echoing Plato’s worry about autonomy, Augustine bemoans the “novel disturbance of their disobedient flesh” (COG, bk. 13, chap. 13) as a source of shame: we realize we cannot control our bodies. ED is not a psychiatric or medical, but a spiritual, disorder. Augustine’s battle with the Pelagians required more energy. Julian agreed that pre-Fall Adam and Eve would have had sex. But he painted a different (and wholesome, from a modern perspective) picture of their mutual sexual desire: it was innocent, divinely blessed, and the “vital fire” of their relationship (Pagels, 1988, p. 141). Adam and Eve would have rejoiced in both procreation and the pleasures of sex. For Julian, what happens to sexuality after the Fall is not that it comes into existence (Jerome) or that it becomes corrupt concupiscence (Augustine), but that it is troubled with what troubles us today: adultery, promiscuity, prostitution. Julian believed that sexual acts should be confined to faithful, heterosexual marriage (as in prelapsarian Adam and Eve) and rejects other sexualities. Within marriage, though, sex may be, without guilt and reservation, as exciting as the spouses could make it. His conclusion might have been inspired by St. Paul’s pastoral advice that conjugal sexuality should be as gratifying as possible in order to succeed as a “remedy against sin” (1 Cor. 7:5), for example, to nip adultery in the bud. (In John Milton’s Paradise Lost, the sexual relations between Adam and Eve were so blissful [2000, bk. IV, line 509] that the Devil “with jealous leer malign Eyed them” as they were “imparadised in one another’s arms” [503-505].) Not so Augustine. Before the Fall, mind is in control. The operation of the sexual organs would have been voluntary, Adam’s penis erecting from his willful (God-like) command for it to rise, as if he were lifting an arm (COG, bk. 14, chap. 16). Adam never suffered from Masters and Johnson’s sexual dysfunctions. But he would not have erected by seeing Eve’s body or smelling her (COG, bk. 14, chap. 10). Sex in Eden would have known no arousing teasing, no conjugal seduction, no dancing to get in the mood: Away . . . with the thought, that before there was any sin, there should already have been 9 committed . . . the very sin which our Lord warns us against . . . : “Whosoever looks on a woman to lust after her, has committed adultery with her already in his heart.” [Matthew 5:28] As happy . . . as were these our first parents, who were agitated by no mental perturbations, and annoyed by no bodily discomforts, so happy should the whole human race have been, had they not introduced that evil which they have transmitted to their posterity. (COG, bk. 14, chap. 26) Because prelapsarian sex occurs with a tranquil mind, controlled by the will, “those organs would have been moved . . . without passion or the pricklings of allurement” (COG, bk. 14, chap. 26). Passion was absent, so the excitement and pleasures of sex (as postlapsarian humans know them) would also be absent. Yes, prelapsarian Adam and Eve would have had sex, by deciding out of love for God to fulfill His command to multiply. (Like thinking about the Queen and doing it for the glory of the empire.) But prelapsarian sex would have been only as pleasurable as any other voluntary movement of the body a handshake or hug. No ecstatic “Oh, God!” in Eden. Augustine’s philosophy of sex is explained by his account of prelapsarian sexuality, which provides the model that humans should emulate: sex must be confined to marriage, its sole purpose is procreation, and spouses must not seek sexual pleasure for its own sake. Augustine was indebted to Clement of Alexandria (ca. 150-215), who thought (the “Alexandrian Rule”) that sexual acts in marriage were virtuous only if done for procreation (Pagels, 1988, p. 29, citing Stromata 3:57-58). Married couples should even minimize the pleasure that accompanies sex (say, by keeping their clothes on, turning out the lights, and getting the act over with as quickly as possible). Consistently, Augustine denounced contraception. If conception is prevented “by wrong desire or evil appliance,” spouses “are really not” husband and wife. Their “criminal conduct” in blocking conception (or aborting a fetus) means “they have not come together so much by holy wedlock as by abominable debauchery” (OM, bk. 1, chap. 17). Given Augustine’s conflation of sex and other bodily functions, his criticism of somatic pleasure was general. As a bishop, he was susceptible to lustful thoughts and dreams (Conf., bk. 10, chap. 30); he wrung his hands over pleasures of eating, because he was caught by food in “the snare of concupiscence” (Conf. 10.31); and he was even haunted by the pleasure of hearing beautiful music (Conf., bk. 10, chaps. 33-34). The lure of Jerome’s asceticism was not lost on Augustine. A slightly less negative account of sexuality was elaborated by the theologian St. Thomas Aquinas (1224/25-1274). Tutored by Albertus Magnus (1206?-1280), who also merged Aristotle with Christianity, Aquinas formulated in the mid-13th Century a Natural Law theory of sexuality, in his stupendous Summa theologiae, which became the authoritative foundation of Catholic teaching (by AAeterni patris,@ Pope Leo XIII's 1879 encyclical). Heterosexual coitus results from a natural inclination implanted by God and in the act the sexual organs fulfill their natural, God-designed purpose (Summa contra gentiles, bk. III, pt., chap. 126). Aquinas concedes that sexual pleasure is good because God created it. But sexual pleasure, like everything God creates, has its purpose and rightful use. (Aquinas’s teleological, Aristotelian ontology is like the evolutionary view, now discredited, that every part of a biological organism must have resulted from natural selection, that is, was advantageous for survival and reproduction.) Sexual pleasure was planned by God to accompany sexual acts that contribute to His ongoing work of creation. Aquinas was replying, in advance, to the playwright Arthur 10 Miller’s (1915-2005) joke about Augustine’s description of Adam and Eve in Eden: Eve is bent over from the waist, examining . . . a turtle. [Adam's] attention is caught by her raised buttocks, and he approaches, halts, and stares then looks off, puzzled by an idea he can't quite form in his mind. Giving it up, he asks . . . “You want to play volleyball?” (1973, p. 18) By postulating that humans, like animals, have a natural inclination for intercourse, Aquinas overcomes the Adam and Eve’s willingness to obey God’s command to be fruitful, in the absence of the sexual pleasure of a natural inclination, be sufficient motive for them to engage in procreative sexual activity? And how would they know what to do? Still, for Aquinas, seeking sexual pleasure is not sinful only if pursued during conjugal sexual acts that are procreative in form, otherwise the sexual organs and the pleasure are being misused in a way inconsistent with God’s plan. Aquinas argues in part for his view about the nature of human sexuality on the basis of the sexuality of lower animals, especially monogamous birds (SCG, bk. III, pt. 2, chap. 122, §6). Perhaps he should have taken a better look at the variety of sexual lifestyles among the lower animals. What if Aquinas had argued from dogs and cats to humans? He might also have taken a better look at human anatomy. As the feminist theologian Christine Gudorf remarks, “If the placement of the clitoris in the female body reflects the divine will, then God wills that sex is not just oriented to procreation, but is at least as, if not more, oriented to pleasure as to procreation” (1994, p. 65) for women, anyway. “If anything served . . . as an argument for the existence of God, . . . it was the thousands upon thousands of orgasms dancing on the head of that pin [,] . . . a gift to each and every little girl from God. All hail the Maker, a generous . . . guy with a real soft spot for women” (Roth, 1996, p. 434). So goes a novelist’s version of “intelligent design.” Applying Aristotle’s virtue of temperance to sex, Aquinas insists that sexual pleasure must be pursued “ordinately,” not “inordinately.” As in Aristotle, “inordinately” means “in excess” and does not imply “less than is proper.” Despite acknowledging God’s creation of a natural inclination in humans for sexual intercourse, Aquinas agrees with Augustine on another matter, contrasting the calm sexual relations of prelapsarian Adam and Eve (ST Ia, ques. 98, art. 2) with the “violent” sexuality of animals (which is the word Augustine employs to describe postlapsarian human coitus [COG, bk. 14, chap. 26]). Yet, as if tipping his hat to the Pelagians, Aquinas says that prelapsarian sexual pleasure would have been better, even if not a vital fire: “the pleasure of sense would have been all the greater, given the greater purity of man’s nature and sensibility of his body.” (This is similar to Wilhelm Reich’s view [see below] that sexual relations would be more enjoyable in the paradise of communism.) Aquinas adds, however, that “the pleasure urge would not have squandered itself in so disorderly a fashion on this sort of pleasure when it was ruled by reason” (ST Ia, ques. 98, art. 2, reply 3). What was on Adam and Eve’s daily schedule or routine from which they would be distracted by inordinate, squandering sex? Naming the animals? Unlike later theologians who avoided sex by holding study groups on retreats, Adam and Eve had no Talmud or scripture to ponder, nor could they devote themselves to Plato’s “assigned regimen of philosophy.” And because they had not yet fallen, what was there to accomplish by engaging in Jerome’s spiritual procreation? 11 The most provocative, even notorious, judgments Aquinas made about human sexuality derive from his Natural Law ethics (ST IIaIIae, ques. 154, arts. 1-12). He distinguishes between two kinds of “sin of lechery.” In one kind, “the act of its nature is incompatible with the purpose of the sex-act. In so far as generation is blocked, we have unnatural vice, which is any complete sex-act from which of its nature generation cannot follow.” Aquinas provides four examples: First, outside intercourse when an orgasm is procured for the sake of venereal pleasure; this belongs to the sin of self-abuse. . . . Second, by intercourse with a thing of another species, and this is called bestiality. Third, with a person of the same sex . . . and this is called sodomy. Fourth, if the natural style of intercourse is not observed, as regards the proper organ[s]. In such acts, procreative organs (and nonprocreative organs, in oral and anal sex) are misused, contrary to their God-given design and purpose, for the goal is sexual pleasure alone, apart from procreation. Notice that Aquinas talks here about “complete” (ejaculatory) sexual acts, thereby focusing on the penis. He does not want the seed wasted by its going elsewhere than into the “proper vessel,” the vagina. (Hebrew theology of unnatural sex is similar; see Epstein, 1948, pp. 132-147.) Aquinas assembles these four vices into a hierarchy of sinfulness. “To compare unnatural sins of lechery, the lowest rank is held by solitary sin. . . . The greatest is that of bestiality, which does not observe the due species. . . . Afterwards comes sodomy, which does not observe due sex. After this is the lechery which does not observe the due mode of intercourse.” Masturbation is at the bottom of the list, but it is still unnatural and sinful. In the second kind of sin of lechery, “the nature of the act with respect to the other party” is sinful. Among Aquinas’s examples are heterosexual incest, heterosexual adultery, heterosexual rape, and a man’s seduction of a female virgin who lives in her father’s house. These acts can be procreative (in form), so they are not unnatural. They are sinful because they violate a justified social morality in which harming others is a moral wrong. To a great extent though, the property rights that men have over women are violated, for Aquinas, in adultery and seduction. This is the kind of philosophy that made rape in marriage legally unthinkable in the West for so long. Aquinas constructs another hierarchy, between the two types of sin of lechery. “Since . . . unnatural vice flouts nature by transgressing its basic principles of sexuality, it is in this matter the gravest of sins.” Bestiality, same-sex acts, heterosexual variations, and masturbation are cardinal sins, while incest, adultery, rape, and seduction are only venial. Aquinas replies to an imaginary interlocutor who argues (with a contemporary ring, sounding like Jeremy Bentham and J. S. Mill; see below) that unnatural sex is not the morally worst. “The more a sin is against charity,” the interlocutor pleads, “the worse it is. . . . [A]dultery and seduction and rape harm our neighbour, whereas unnatural lust injures nobody else, and accordingly is not the worst.” But Aquinas tries to refute this reasonable argument, insisting that unnatural sexual vice, including masturbation, is “the gravest of sins” and worse than rape, adultery, and so forth. The unnatural sins of lechery violate the design of God’s creation and are an “affront to God.” Those people who commit them snub their noses at the Lord and impugn His wisdom, whereas committing rape, seduction, or adultery violates only “the developed plan of living according to reason” that “comes from man.” The interlocutor’s questions -- If unnatural sexual acts are engaged in by 12 consenting adults and harm no one, how could they be wrong? Isn’t rape wrong precisely because it is involuntary by force or otherwise lacks consent? -- are still much debated today. (For a comprehensive account of medieval sexual philosophy, see Brundage, 1987.) Modern Philosophy through the 19th Century After the medieval scholastics, from 1550 through the late 1800s, a stream of colorful philosophers wrote about sexuality. Michel Montaigne (1533-1592) was well known for his skeptical epistemological philosophy (we can know nothing) and for his essay “On Friendship,” which contains this famous line about his relationship with Étienne de La Boétie: “If you press me to tell why I loved him, I feel that this cannot be expressed, except by answering: Because it was he, because it was I” (Essays, p. 139). In the essay “Of the Power of the Imagination,” Montaigne elegantly repeats Augustine’s biomedical point: “People are right to notice the unruly liberty of this member, obtruding so importunately when we have no use for it, and failing so importunately when we have the most use for it, and struggling for mastery so imperiously with our will, refusing with so much pride and obstinacy our solicitations, both mental and manual” (Essays, p. 72). We are left to decide the relative impudence of Adam’s disobeying God and the penis’s disobeying postlapsarian Adam. Not much later, the French rationalist philosopher René Descartes (1596-1650), whose often misunderstood “cogito, sum” (“I think, I am” — no “therefore”) was intended to refute skepticism, including Montaigne’s, by displaying some things we can know. Descartes asserted about sexuality that Although we see many persons of the opposite sex, yet we do not desire many at one time. . . . But when we observe something in one of them which is more attractive than anything we observe at that moment in others, this determines our soul to feel towards that one alone all the inclination which nature gives it to pursue the good which it represents as the greatest we could possess. (Philosophical Writings, p. 360) Sexual desire is exclusive (serially) by its nature, for “at that moment” we cannot desire another person. Descartes, unlike Augustine, drew a distinction between sexual desire and the desires to eat and drink, for we rarely think that the desire we have for the steak on the menu could not be satisfied by any plate of steak to come from the kitchen. This feeling that the object of our sexual desire cannot be replaced might be illusory (but see Roger Scruton, below). Note that Descartes says only that nature “represents” this good, that is, embracing the object of our attention, “as the greatest we could possess,” suggesting (an idea elaborated by Schopenhauer; see below) that what we think is for our good is not, after all, for our good. Across the channel, Thomas Hobbes (1588-1678) wrote his 1651 masterpiece, Leviathan. In light of its most famous passage (§1.13), we could speculate that Hobbes believed that sexual encounters were “nasty, brutish, and short” unless you were “poor,” in which case they would surely be “solitary.” Hobbes wrote little about sexuality, but one provocative exception is this passage from his Human Nature: 13 The appetite which men call lust, and the fruition that appertaineth thereunto, is a sensual pleasure, but not only that; there is in it also a delight of the mind: for it consisteth of two appetites together, to please, and to be pleased; and the delight men take in delighting, is not sensual, but a pleasure or joy of the mind consisting in the imagination of the power they have so much to please. (§9.15) Hobbes, too, denies Augustine’s resemblance among the desires for sex, food, and drink, for on his account sexual desire is a compound composed of two distinct desires, a desire to be pleased by the other person and (surprisingly) a coexistent desire to please the other person. The latter desire has no analogue in eating and drinking; as Aristotle says, having good will toward a jug of wine is “ridiculous” and at best vicarious shorthand for anticipating that we will enjoy drinking it (NE 1155b29-30). Hobbes does not develop his thesis, but at least one contemporary philosopher has championed it (Blackburn, 2004, pp. 87-88), making Hobbes a hero for theorizing that sexual desire has this dualistic nature. (Contrast Goldman’s [1977] monistic account of sexual desire, as a desire exclusively for one’s own sexual pleasure.) Blackburn’s praise, however, overlooks the sinister implications of what Hobbes actually says, that a person wants to please the other person because doing so confirms one’s sexual powers (a masculine performance principle?), not because it makes the other person happy and not even because it adds to one’s sensual pleasure. Hobbes apparently thinks that these motives are characteristic of humanity both in civil society and in the pre-social State of Nature, which yields a different picture of sexuality in Eden: Adam not as Everyman, but as Macho Man. During the 1700s, David Hume (1711-1776) and Immanuel Kant (1724-1804) weighed in, well before Thurber and White but without their humor, on the issue of the relationship between sexual desire and love. In a chapter of his Treatise of Human Nature entitled “Of the amorous passion, or love betwixt the sexes” (bk. II, pt. ii, chap. 11), Hume claimed that love, which arises betwixt the sexes . . . , is deriv’d from the conjunction of three different impressions or passions[:] The pleasing sensation arising from beauty; the bodily appetite for generation; and a generous kindness or good-will. About these three “impressions” or “passions” from which love is “derived,” Hume asserts that “there arises such a connexion betwixt the sense [perception] of beauty, the bodily appetite, and benevolence, that they become in a manner inseparable.” Remarkably, these three features of the amorous passion are, once they come together, “inseparable” even though, as Hume readily acknowledges, sexual desire (the “appetite for generation”) and benevolence (“generous kindness”) are “too remote [by their natures] to unite easily.” Why, though, are sexual desire and benevolence too disparate to be joined? Kant had an answer: “True human love . . . admits of no distinction between types of persons, or between young and old. . . . Human love is goodwill, affection, promoting the happiness of others and finding joy in their happiness” (Lectures, Ak 27:384). Here Kant is describing the generous kindness component of Hume’s amorous passion. This benevolence is so different from sexual desire that they cannot be joined. On Kant’s view, passion that springs . . . from sexual impulse cannot be love at all, but only appetite. . . . [I]t is clear that, 14 when a person [wants] . . . another . . . from sexual desire, none of these factors [the benevolence] enter into [it]. . . . Sexual [desire] . . . makes of the [desired] . . . person an Object of appetite. . . . [A]s soon as a person becomes an object of appetite for another, all motives of moral relationship cease to function, because as an object of appetite for another a person becomes a thing. (Lectures, Ak 27:384-385) Indeed, for Kant, it is not merely that sexual desire and benevolence cannot be combined; the latter “deter[s] one from carnal enjoyment” (Metaphysics of Morals, Ak 6:426). Kant, returning to Plato’s sharp contrast between vulgar and heavenly eros, is repeating Augustine’s Christian thesis about love: “Whoever loves another as himself ought to love that in him which is his real self. Our real selves are not bodies. . . . Human nature is to be loved . . . without any condition of carnal relationship” (O’Connell, 1969, p. 111). Again we are confronted by the divide between mind (love) and flesh (sex). Hume proposed that benevolence and sexual desire could be joined together by the third ingredient of the amorous passion: “beauty is plac’d in a just medium betwixt them, and partakes of both their natures: From whence it proceeds, that ‘tis so singularly fitted to produce both.” This thesis is a curious (or fascinating) piece of Hume’s account of the relationships among the three components of the amorous passion. Hume observes that the amorous passion, the mixture of the three, can arise in different ways. A person might feel benevolence toward another person, from which both sexual desire and an appreciation of the other’s beauty result. Sensing beauty in another because one has generous kindness toward him or her is not psychologically unusual. (It is similar to God’s agape, in which God bestows value on humans in virtue of His loving them.) But to claim that feeling benevolence toward another person is a reliable cause of feeling sexual desire for him or her is implausible. Hume realizes this and admits that rarely does the amorous passion arise in this fashion. Instead, most cases of the amorous passion begin by one person’s appreciating another’s beauty, which causes both benevolence and sexual desire. (How both, is the puzzle.) Hume, having his feet on solid everyday ground, also sees that the relationship between beauty and sexual desire is sometimes the reverse: when we are already feeling sexual desire (that is, when we are horny), we reach the judgment that the object of our attention is more beautiful than he or she really is. A martini, too, can make us inflate the merits of the object, as Freud might have put it. Kant was apparently disgusted by sexuality, for he alleged that after we are satisfied by a sexual act we discard our partner like a lemon we have sucked dry (Lectures, Ak 27:384). Maybe this is why he denied, in contrast to contemporary liberal Kantian philosophers (Mappes, 2007), that as long as competent adults give their consent, their sexual activity is morally permissible. Recall that, for Kant, “as an object of [sexual] appetite for another a person becomes a thing (Lectures, Ak 27:385). Using another person as an object, which is inherent to sexual activity, can be overcome, for Kant, only in marriage (Lectures, Ak 27:388; see Herman, 1993; Soble, 2001). If this philosophy of sex weren’t grim enough, Kant, despite being an Enlightenment thinker, developed a philosophical view of sexual perversion strikingly similar to Aquinas’s medieval account (Lectures, Ak 27:391-392; see Denis, 1999; Soble, 2003). Those who engage in the crimina carnis contra naturam (masturbation, same-sex sexual activity, bestiality) treat themselves as objects and “degrade human nature to a level below that of animal nature and 15 make man unworthy of his humanity.” Kant, though, has an interesting view of Adam and Eve: In the case of animals, sexual attraction is merely a matter of transient, mostly periodic impulse. But man soon discovered that for him this attraction can be prolonged and even increased by means of the imagination. . . . By means of the imagination, he discovered, the surfeit was avoided which goes with the satisfaction of mere animal desire. The fig leaf . . . was a far greater manifestation of reason than that shown in the earlier stage of development. (“Conjectural Beginning of Human History,” 56-57) Today, Kant’s philosophy has been mined by feminists and others who criticize the sexual objectification of women in rape, sexual harassment, prostitution, and pornography (see, for example, Estes, 2008; Nussbaum, 1995). His notion of the wrongfulness in itself of treating a person in sexuality as an object, as a thing to be used, again implies, in contrast to liberal sexual ethics, that the presence of consent is too weak to justify much sexual behavior. In the first half of the 19th Century, the Danish Christian-existentialist philosopher Søren Kierkegaard, using his playful pseudonyms to good effect, made many provocative observations and counter-observations about sexuality. Some are fun to contemplate (even if obscure), which shows that he could often be as amusing as Thurber and White: If it is ridiculous to kiss an ugly girl, it also is ridiculous to kiss a pretty one, and the notion that doing a thing one way is any justification for laughing at a person who does it another way is nothing more than superciliousness and a complot. (Stages on Life’s Way, p. 54) Insightfully, he wrote, “When two people fall in love with each other and sense that they are destined for each other, it is a question of having the courage to break it off, for by continuing there is only everything to lose, nothing to gain” (“The Rotation Method of Crops,” Either/Or, Vol. 1, p. 298). He followed this with the counterargument (using a different pseudonym) that erotic love and marriage are, after all, compatible (“The Aesthetic Validity of Marriage,” E/O, Vol. 2). We also find this contrary repetitive gem: “Marry, and you will regret it. Do not marry, you will also regret it. Marry or do not marry, you will regret it either way. Whether you marry or do not marry, you will regret it either way” (“Diapsalmata,” E/O, Vol. 1, p. 138). As Kant did, but more poetically, the mature Kierkegaard emphasized that eros and Christian agape were incompatible: “All pleasure is selfish. The pleasure of the lover . . . is not selfish with respect to the loved one, but in union they are both absolutely selfish, inasmuch as in union and in love they constitute one self” (Stages, p. 56). As a result, “The more securely the two I’s come together to become one I,” the more in loving each other, they love only themselves (Works of Love, p. 68). The German philosopher Arthur Schopenhauer (1788-1860), anticipating Darwin’s evolutionary biology and Freud’s psychoanalysis, painted a bleak picture of the human condition. Plato warned us, in the Symposium, that what we think (consciously) we want in our erotic affairs is not really what we want. Eros, our yearning desire for attractive bodies and excellent minds, is really eros for an Ideal Beauty that is barely represented by the objects of our attachment (211a). We think happiness will result from relationships with beautiful people, but we are dissatisfied. Plato means that we eventually tire of the repetition of earthly beauty and 16 that it is fleeting and fragile, whether physical or mental. Dissatisfied with ordinary beauty, we search for an other-worldly Ideal Beauty. An optimist, Plato thought we could succeed in this quest. For Augustine, similarly, the search for the ideal is hidden beneath our erotic loves: I had not yet fallen in love, but I was in love with the idea of it. . . . I began to look around for some object for my [romantic] love. . . . Although my real need was for you, my God, . . . I was not aware of this hunger. (Conf., bk. 3, chap. 1) Augustine, too, was an optimist. We should seek, however, the personal Christian God, not Ideal Beauty, Plato’s inanimate universal. In Schopenhauer’s vision, the beauty of the object of sexual desire is nature’s way of tricking a man into thinking that satisfying his erotic desires is for his own individual good. To the contrary, sexual love benefits only the species, for the good of which nature makes use of us, causing us to give up, irrationally, fortune and freedom to attain our erotic goals (recall Plato’s “neglect and loss and property”): Nature can attain her end only by implanting in the individual a certain delusion, and by virtue of this, that which in truth is merely a good thing for the species seems to him to be a good thing for himself. . . . It is a voluptuous delusion which leads a man to believe that he will find a greater pleasure in the arms of a woman whose beauty appeals to him than in those of any other . . . [and] firmly convinces him that her possession will afford boundless happiness. Accordingly, he imagines he is making efforts and sacrifices for his own enjoyment, whereas he is doing so merely for the maintenance of . . . the species. (The World as Will, pp. 538, 540) Note the twist that Schopenhauer puts on the Christian view of marital parenthood as being our contribution to God’s ongoing creative project. For Schopenhauer, evolution resorts to deceptive beauty to enlist the aid of otherwise reluctant humans in nature’s creative scheme. Why do we have to be tricked into having sex? Sex is burdensome: pursuing a mate uses resources and the act produces children we then have to care for. Further, the “sense of beauty . . . directs the sexual impulse, and [is that] without which this impulse sinks to the level of a disgusting need” (World, p. 539). As in Kant and Augustine, sexuality is disgusting, so we must be cajoled into it. Also in the early 19th Century, Jeremy Bentham (1748-1832), relying on his utilitarian ethics (which tells us to aim always for the “greatest good of the greatest number”), defended consensual same-sex sexual activity, on the grounds that it produced pleasure and had no damaging or dangerous social effects. Bentham’s “An Essay on ‘Paederasty’,” however, was not published during his lifetime; indeed, it did not appear in print until 1978. The essay, then, could not have been of any benefit to persecuted homosexuals in 19th-century England. Later in the century, Bentham’s student, John Stuart Mill (1806-1873), writing in an unreceptive Victorian climate, announced at the beginning of his Subjection of Women that “the principle which regulates the existing social relations between the two sexes -- the legal subordination of one sex to the other -- is wrong . . . [and] ought to be replaced by a principle of perfect equality.” Mill’s feminist credentials are not in doubt. But he wrote little about sex, unlike contemporary feminists, for whom it is frequently the main issue (for example, MacKinnon [1987] on rape, pornography, and prostitution). 17 In On Liberty, Mill relies on several sexual examples to illustrate the application of his utilitarian moral theory. He finds Mormon polygyny disagreeable, yet argues that the consent of the women to the arrangement is what counts (OL, chap. 4). Feminists wish that Mill had probed deeper into the authenticity of their consent. Mill contends that “fornication” must be tolerated, when it is consensual and harms no one, and that houses of prostitution should not be prohibited but only regulated: “they may be compelled to conduct their operations with a certain degree of secrecy and mystery, so that nobody knows anything about them but those who seek them” (OL, chap. 5). Don’t ask, don’t tell. Mill praises and defends extensive social and legal liberty that would allow and even encourage “experiments in living” (OL, chap. 3), but he did not draw out the obvious implication about the value of a plurality of sexual lifestyles. Mill’s formulation of utilitarianism remains popular today, among philosophers, along with the ethics of Kant’s Categorical Imperative and Aristotelian virtue theory. These three dominate the secular scene in normative philosophy of sex, while Augustine and Aquinas are still strongly influential in theological circles. As was Mill, Karl Marx (1818-1883) and Friedrich Engels (1820-1893) were centrally concerned with economic and political questions. Contemporary feminism owes to Marx and Engels the idea that prostitution and marriage are not very different. A married woman “differs from the ordinary courtesan [only] in that she does not let out her body on piece-work as a wage earner, but sells it once and for all into slavery” (Engels, Origin of the Family, Private Property, and the State, p. 82; see also Emma Goldman’s 1917 “The Traffic in Women”). In their jointly written Communist Manifesto (p. 72), Marx and Engels assert that communism (the abolition of private ownership of the means of production) would release women from “prostitution, both public and private,” from both streetwalking and loveless marriages contracted out of economic necessity. What was wrong with prostitution provided Marx with insight into the defects of capitalism: “Prostitution is only a particular expression of the universal prostitution of the worker.” His further point is that Money, inasmuch as it possesses the property of being able to buy everything . . . is the object most worth possessing. . . . I am ugly, but I can buy the most beautiful woman. Which means . . . that I am not ugly, for the effect of ugliness, its repelling power, is destroyed by money. In the transaction by which the bourgeois male acquires his trophy wife, “Money is the pimp between need and object” (Economic and Philosophic Manuscripts, pp. 133, 165). Marx and Engels’s dislike of philosophy and their Victorian attitude toward sexuality are revealed in this morsel: “Philosophy and the study of the actual world have the same relation to one another as masturbation and sexual love” (German Ideology, p. 103). Disparaging metaphors are often used to describe philosophy (“head in the clouds navel-picking”) but comparing it with masturbation is double-edged. As Surgeon General Joycelyn Elders announced in 1994, thereby precipitating her removal from the Clinton administration, masturbation is safe sex and avoids pregnancy (Elders, 1997; Soble, 2006). And while you are reading this philosophical essay, you’re keeping out of trouble. 18 The Early 20th Century Amidst the psychoanalytic twist in psychology, the linguistic turn in philosophy, and the advance of evolutionary theory, came an outpouring of sometimes shocking inquiries into sex. It began with Sigmund Freud’s (1856-1939) Three Essays on the Theory of Sexuality (1905), which challenged dominant beliefs about children’s sexual innocence and the innateness of heterosexuality. His theoretical advance was distinguishing among the sexual instinct (libido), the aim of the sexual instinct, and the instinct’s object. An instinct’s aim is the state or condition it seeks, while its objects are the items in the world it uses to attain that state. The food instinct aims to appease an unpleasant feeling, hunger, and to get nutrition; its objects are edible portions of the world. Sex, too, involves an instinct, but it is different. (Freud, to a small extent, broke away from the Augustinian conflation of sex, eating, and drinking.) The objects of the food instinct are determined by the instinct. Only certain parts of the world -- a genuine hamburger, not a menu’s picture of a hamburger, nor a fantasized hamburger -- satisfy the drive. The instinct, the aim, and the object are locked. Not so for sexuality. There is no analogue in hunger and eating to getting pleasure by masturbating with sexual fantasy; it is masturbation (childhood autoerotism, especially) that blows apart the theoretical lock among instinct, aim, and object. In sexuality, says Freud, the sexual instinct and its objects are “merely [that is, artificially] soldered together” (Three Essays, p. 148). The aim is sensual, bodily, pleasure, and its objects are nearly limitless. The hungry, crying child, when given milk, survives; given other fluids (engine oil), it dies. But a child wanting sensory pleasure can be touched or rubbed by many things to achieve somatic pleasure: males, females, rugs, animals, its own thumb. Hence children, as Freud says, are polymorphously perverse. Which of the objects in the world that are eventually preferred for pleasure by a person is determined by his or her psychobiography. Hence, for Freud, “Why are there homosexuals?” is the wrong question. The task, that is, is explain not only homosexuality but also heterosexuality. As soon as the sexual instinct and its objects are kept distinct, no basis exists for a Thomistic anatomical or physiological criterion of unnatural sex. Homosexuality is off that hook; it is not unnatural merely because it is not reproductive. The criteria of perversion must be, instead, psychological, and hence more complex (Neu, 1991). The American Psychiatric Association admitted this in the mid-1970s, when it excluded homosexuality per se from DSM (Soble, 2004). The British philosopher Bertrand Russell (1872-1970) also caused a stir. His Marriage and Morals (1929) mixed a prescient and formidable feminism (he was an outspoken activist for the equality of women) with a utilitarian criticism of marital sexual fidelity a defense of what we now call “open marriage.” Marriage and Morals was, for some, a lecherous book, and cost Russell an appointment at the City University of New York. Yet “so much of what [Russell] . . . called for . . . has been achieved by the sexual revolution and the feminist movement that I suppose no one reads [Marriage and Morals] . . . any more” (Nagel, 2002, p. 65). On Russell’s view, “sexual relations should be a mutual delight, entered into solely from the spontaneous impulse of both parties.” This seems tame, although Russell employed the principle to justify honest adultery. His main purpose was to condemn a common motive for sex different from mutual delight and spontaneous impulse: “the intrusion of the economic motive into sex is . . . 19 disastrous.” Russell opposed not only blatant commercial prostitution but also the more subtle conjugal sex that took place only because wives were economically dependent on husbands. Russell, maybe hyperbolically but consistent with some feminism (Morgan, 1977, pp. 163-169), asserted that “the total amount of undesired sex endured by women is probably greater in marriage than in prostitution.” This shows how marxist Russell was, or how liberal Marx and Engels were. Then, during the thick of World War II, Jean-Paul Sartre (1905-1980) wrote Being and Nothingness. Buried in this thick metaphysical treatise is a section on sexuality, as a central case of human attitudes. Sartre proclaimed that the battle of the sexes was the tip of an iceberg that would have frozen even the hard-nosed Hobbes: Sadism and masochism are the two reefs on w troubled disturbance toward an appropriation of the Other’s flesh or, intoxicated with my own trouble, pay attention only to my flesh and ask nothing of the Other except that he should be the look which aids me in realizing my flesh. It is because of this inconstancy on the part of desire and its perpetual oscillation between these two perils that “normal” sexuality is commonly designated as “sadistic-masochistic.” (BN, pt. 3, chap. 3, sect. 2) Reaching back to G.W.F. Hegel’s (1770-1831) account of the “master-slave” relationship (Phenomenology of Spirit, §§178-196), Sartre theorized that in sexual interactions one person always desires to capture the freedom of another. That endeavor is doomed to fail or to shoot itself in the foot. For if we capture the other’s freedom, we see that our victory is nugatory; we have nothing significant left to dominate or control. Soon after Being and Nothingness came The Second Sex by Simone de Beauvoir (1908-1986), Sartre’s companion and lover, which expressed primordial yet fertile feminist accounts of sex and gender: “One is not born, but rather becomes, a woman” (p. 267), she famously wrote, emphasizing that culture played a more important role in the formation of gender than biology. Beauvoir’s essay “Must We Burn Sade?” helped garner for the Divine Marquis a scholarly appreciation, at least among French scholars. Of some interest to historians is that Sartre and Beauvoir’s relationship was like the open, honest infidelity advocated by Russell. Depending on which biographer is consulted, this bold (Millian) experiment in living was either a mediocre success or a miserable failure, causing much anguish to Simone. Still, they share a tomb in Paris. Coming before and after the existentialists Sartre and Beauvoir were a number of radical social and political philosophers, including Wilhelm Reich (1897-1957), Herbert Marcuse (1898- 1979), and members of the Frankfurt School. Reich and Marcuse thought that Marxism, which lacked a psychological “branch,” was as a result theoretically insufficient for understanding economic and political history. Hence they blended Freudian psychoanalysis with Marxism to liberate human sexuality from oppressive Victorian morality and capitalist political tyranny. Freud had argued in Civilization and Its Discontents (1930) that human sexuality must be curtailed, at the expense of the happiness of individuals, for the sake of the greater goods of civilized life. (In this regard, Freud’s view is close to Hobbes’s argument in Leviathan.) Freud thought that this exchange was overall a fine deal, but also that contemporary (for him) social arrangements required too much curtailment of sexuality, that the leash could be loosened so that 20 people would be better off sexually without harming civilization. Marcuse, who grabbed himself a place in the history of pop culture by advising young people to “make love, not war,” continued Freud’s project in his 1955 Eros and Civilization. Marcuse coined the term “surplus repression” for the excess and hence unnecessary restriction of sexuality required by oppressive economic and political regimes, arguing that the leash could be loosened more than Freud had thought. Marcuse also coined the term “repressive desublimation” to describe how Western consumer capitalism could loosen the sexual leash and manipulate the resulting pseudo-sexual freedom for its own advantage. Reich also argued that economic and political changes had to made for the sake of freedom, so that people would have more satisfying sex lives. He got himself into trouble for setting up birth control clinics in Berlin in the early 1930s. Reich was not only a political activist but also a theoretician, an epistemologist of human nature. He developed the idea (which was hinted at by Freud in Future of an Illusion) that if we want to discover the genuine nature of human sexuality, we can do so only when people are free from social influences and can thereby explore sexually whatever they feel like (see Sex-Pol and Sexual Revolution; Soble, 1986, pp. 10-37). In this way, the Garden of Eden and Hobbes’s State of Nature make their way into radical sexual politics. The irony is that Reich thought that pure human sexuality would be heterosexual, and that the sexually unnatural acts that Aquinas, Kant, and others condemned were symptoms of the influence of economic and social corruption on human behavior. (Strains of Jean-Jacques Rousseau’s [1712-1778] Discourse on Inequality can be discerned here.) Reich offered a psychological and political approach to the problems of sexual relations, as opposed to the theological approach of Augustine and Aquinas, but in effect arrived at a similar picture of the perfectly healthy sexuality of the communist comrades Adam and Eve. Contemporary Philosophy Many professional philosophers wrote about human sexuality in the last quarter of the 20th Century and beyond, so many that describing what each or even a large set have contributed to the field would be unwieldy. Several figures stand out, however, as being the most significant, by peer reviews of their writings and how often their work is cited. A few words about them is in order. In 1969, Thomas Nagel anglicized Hegel and Sartre, fashioning from them, in “Sexual Perversion,” a non-Thomistic and non-Freudian theory of psychologically perverted sexuality. It is routinely acknowledged that Nagel’s essay inaugurated contemporary philosophy of sex, for it was immediately followed by a swarm of sophisticated elaborations and rebuttals (Nelson, 2006). Though there is no consensus that Nagel was successful in his novel way of understanding sexual perversion, he stimulated the philosophical investigation of sexuality in fruitful directions. On Nagel’s view of human sexuality, self-consciousness plays a role that is missing from animal sexuality. At the beginning of a sexual episode, I am aroused by sensing (touching, looking at, smelling) you. You, too, are aroused by sensing me at this basic (merely animal) level. While I am aroused by sensing you, I perceive myself as a sexual subject. As our interaction proceeds, I respond with increased arousal to noticing that you are aroused by sensing 21 me. Now I perceive myself as the object of your sexual consciousness; I become aware of myself through your gaze. If the same holds for you, we both perceive ourselves at once as both subject and object in the sexual episode, which phenomenon makes human sexuality distinct from and more interesting than animal sexuality. This configuration is characteristic of natural human sexuality, according to Nagel, so that perversion is a preference for sexual acts that avoid this reciprocal recognition of sexual arousal (Soble, 2008, Table 1). Voyeurism is a good example of a Nagelian perversion. The voyeur prefers to remain a sexual subject, keeping himself hidden from the look of others, never experiencing the self-conscious embodiment of a sexual object. (Aquinas agrees that voyeurism is unnatural, but for a different, biological reason. They disagree about homosexuality, which is psychologically natural on Nagel’s scheme.) An illuminating feature of Nagel's account is how it captures what happens when a prostitute feigns enjoying the sex for which she is paid (or when a spouse pretends, for the sake of the pleasure of the other spouse, to enjoy their boring sexual activity). To be rid of the client and save time, the prostitute helps him reach orgasm quickly. She feigns arousal, knowing that when this “arousal” is perceived by the client, this will increase his arousal in a Nagelian spiral. The client becomes conscious of himself as both subject and object; finding this state blissfully pleasurable, he loses no time achieving orgasm. In his erudite and philosophically elegant Sexual Desire (1986), politically conservative British philosopher Roger Scruton rehabilitated everything traditional, from sexual fidelity in marriage to Aquinas’s and Kant’s condemnation of masturbation, and in a social climate already highly sensitive to issues surrounding sexual orientation, Scruton was not afraid to doubt and criticize the normality, morality, and social effects of homosexuality. Scruton, using his notion of “individualising intentionality” (1986, pp. 103-107), strongly distinguished, against Kant and Augustine, sexual desire and the desires for food and drink: the object of human sexual desire, in contrast to animal desire, is an irreplaceable individual (contrast Soble, 1990, pp. 293-298). He thus drew a line between focused human sexual desire and wide-ranging animal horniness, which humans also experience, but act on only at their peril. As part of his traditionalism, Scruton rehearsed a standard way of contrasting sex and love: Love has a tendency to grow with time, while desire has a tendency to wither. The course of love, therefore, leads of its own accord to the state which the Platonists [and Christians] recommend to us. Eventually desire is replaced by a love which is no longer erotic, but based in trust and companionship. The trouble of desire is then at an end. (1986, p. 244) Scruton, with candor, immediately points out that “The problem [now] is, how to shut out the third party, who will begin it again, how to prevent the calm love of nuptial union from being shattered by the turbulence of a new desire. Not only how, but whether.” To cheat or not to cheat, that is the question. Or why “shut out” the third instead of inviting him or her in? Traditional sexual philosophy is also defended by Karol Wojtyla (1920-2005; Pope John Paul II) in an ambitious project that combines the “personalist norm” of Kantian ethics (do not use people or treat them as objects) and the Christian love commandment. Written while he was still a philosophy professor in Poland, well before Wojtyla became pope, his book Love and Responsibility tackles in an intellectually honest way puzzles that plague Catholic sexual ethics. 22 For example, he seriously investigates why, in Catholicism, contraception is prohibited but natural family planning, or “periodic continence,” is licit (pp. 237-244). Wojtyla makes it clear (as Kierkegaard did) that in Christian marriage, eros takes a back seat to agape: The most important concept here is that of love. . . . For there exists, especially if we start from the Christian ethics born of the New Testament, a problem which can be described as that of “introducing love into love.” The word as first used in that phrase signifies the love which is the subject of the greatest commandment, while in its second use it means all that takes place between a man and a woman on the basis of the sexual urge. We could look at it the other way round and say that there exists a problem of changing the second type of love (sexual love) into the first, the love of which the New Testament speaks. (Love and Responsibility, p. 17) This is Wojtyla’s way of saying that in marriage “desire is replaced by a love which is no longer erotic” (Scruton) and that a man must not turn his wife into his harlot (Augustine). Some find in the sometimes outrageous, and hardly Orthodox, writings of Rabbi Shmuley Boteach (Kosher Sex, 1999; Kosher Adultery, 2002) the antidote to this conservative and Christian condemnation of hot married sex. The Rabbi out-pelagians the Pelagians by suggesting techniques that married couples can use to keep the vital fire alive in their sexual relationship. Several legal scholars have made important contributions to the philosophy of sex. In Sex and Reason (1992), law professor and U.S. circuit court judge Richard Posner expounded a no- nonsense, pragmatic, utilitarian ethical and legal philosophy of sex, articulating what we should expect from homo economicus (for example, a man can be expected to rape a woman if that is the least expensive or only way of injecting his genes into the next generation). Law professor and political philosopher, Catharine MacKinnon, after her early influential and innovative work on sexual harassment (1979), dramatically escalated the battle of the sexes in Only Words and Feminism Unmodified. She seemingly declared that in patriarchy (e.g., the contemporary U.S.) all heterosexual intercourse is rape, because women, universally and deeply oppressed, are unable to give genuine consent to sexual activity with men, who are economically, socially, politically, and psychologically more powerful (compare MacKinnon, 1997, with Estlund, 1997, Soble, 1996, pp. 244-247). Judge Posner, among others, especially male scholars who legally defended pornography, came under attack (MacKinnon, 1997). Some commentators have sympathetically perceived affinities among MacKinnon’s gruesome depiction of heterosex, the often frightening descriptions of contemporary heterosexuality penned by her colleague Andrea Dworkin (1987), and the sexual metaphysics of Kant (Herman, 1993; Nussbaum, 1995). Comparisons like these fuel the interpretation of current radical feminism (as opposed to liberal feminism) that this form of feminism is conservative sex-negativity disguised by fashionable emancipatory jargon (Soble, 2002, pp. 195-197). A third lawyer and philosopher, John Finnis, joined by theologian Germain Grisez (1988) and other New Natural scholars, undertook to modernize Thomas’s sexual philosophy. Denying that same-sex sexuality and same-sex marriage are morally permissible, Finnis (1994) defended the controversial Catholic distinction between the morally permissible sexual intercourse of a contingently, medically infertile heterosexual couple and the morally illicit sexual activity of a necessarily sterile gay or lesbian couple (Koppelman, 2008; Nussbaum, 1994). This distinction 23 has connections with another contentious Catholic distinction, between morally impermissible heterosexual coitus in which procreation is deliberately impeded by contraception and morally permissible heterosexual coitus that is not procreative because the couple has confined the act to the (probably) infertile stage in the wife’s cycle (see Noonan, 1986, appendix). Of special significance is the French “renaissance” scholar Michel Foucault (1926-1984), who caused a thunderstorm among philosophers, historians, and other theorists of sex with his Histoire de la sexualité (1976-1984). Foucault sparked “genealogical” studies informed by the heuristic idea that not only are patterns of sexual desire and behavior socially engineered, as foreseen by Beauvoir and promulgated by Adrienne Rich (1986), but also that the concepts of our sexual discourse are equally socially constructed: “Sexuality must not be thought of as a kind of natural given which power tries to hold in check. . . . It is the name that can be given to a historical construct” (History, Vol. 1, p. 105). Foucault was in part reacting against the type of discourse about natural sexuality, found in Freud, Reich, and Marcuse, as that which would be uncovered as layers upon layers of socialization were gradually peeled away. Foucault greatly influenced gender studies, feminism, Queer Theory, and the debate about the resemblance and continuity, or lack of it, between ancient and contemporary homoeroticism (Davidson, 2002; Halperin, 1990). One issue is whether homosexuality as an orientation began existing when the Magyar sexologist Károly Mária Benkert (1824-1882) coined the word “homosexual” in 1869, a word unknown among the ancients, who could well have invented it had they deemed doing so to be medically, socially, or even philosophically meaningful. Medical sexology in late 19th- century Europe did detect value in picking out a class of persons as “homosexual” particular objects for therapy. This focus on sexual orientation and sexual identity continues today, not necessarily for psychiatric reasons, but also for the political advantage of the LGBT community. Where does the philosophy of sex stand today? The earliest contemporary philosophers of sex, who contributed to the rise of the field in the 1970s through the 1990s, are getting older and nearing retirement or retired. Younger scholars have moved into the field, carrying, perhaps, less obnoxious 1950s baggage with them as they explore in their own way their own distinctive set of sexual topics in the 21st Century. As philosopher of science Thomas Kuhn famously observed, progress (or at least change) in a discipline comes about as much by attrition and replacement as it does by new and better discoveries. I might venture the opinion that the older contemporaries repeated in great measure, albeit with their own idiosyncratic styles and twists, philosophies that had been around during the whole course of the history of the philosophy of sex, from Plato through Russell. Whether younger philosophers of sex -- not by forgetting history, but by transcending it -- will be able to fashion more illuminating discourses is unclear. Marx might bemoan yet another case of the effect of the weight of history on human thought and practice. Philosophy can defend itself only by reminding us that it is unique in being a discipline in which no advances are made except the continuation of the discussion, where that prolonged discussion is the whole, and valuable, point of the activity. 2 24 Notes 1. Leading textbooks and reference works include Baker et al., eds., 1998; Divine and Wolf- Devine, eds., 2003; Feder et al., eds., 2004; Gruen and Panichas, eds., 1997; Kuefler, ed., 2007; Nye, ed., 1999; Primoratz, ed., 1997; Soble, 2008, Soble, ed., 1989, 1997; Soble and Powers, eds., 2008; Solomon and Higgins, eds., 1991; Stewart, ed., 1995; Trevas et al., eds., 1997; Tuana and Shrage, 2003; Verene, ed., 1995. Especially useful is Soble, ed., 2006, which contains entries on the topics and figures mentioned in this review. In 1977, a professional organization was formed to support this field, The Society for the Philosophy of Sex and Love. Its web site is at www.philosophyofsexandlove.org. 2. 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work_3lfpu5goynbuji6blbzwe7akpi	----	107 The Physical Tourist Peripatetic Highlights in Bern Ann M. Hentschel* This tour of significant scientific sites in Bern uses the local legacy of its most illustrious scientists, Albert Einstein (1879–1955) and Fritz Houtermans (1903–1966), as its guiding thread through the old town and the university district. Key words: Albert Einstein; Fritz Houtermans; Aimé Forster; Paul Gruner; Heinrich Greinacher; University of Bern; Naturforschende Gesellschaft in Bern; Swiss science; meteorology; metrology; relativity theory. Inroduction The capital city of the Swiss Canton of Bern and of the Swiss Confederation is nestled in a narrow loop of the Aare river, at the foot of the Alps. The old town, founded around 1191, is well preserved despite a devastating fire in 1405.** Major industries of the region developed under the constraints of modest domestic markets, high trans- portation costs, and protectionist legislation across national borders. Switzerland thus found its niche in higher-end markets, such as chocolate making, engine building, instruments, fine textiles, and chemicals or pharmaceuticals. My tour past historically significant scientific sites in Bern will use the local legacy of its most illustrious resi- dents, Albert Einstein (1879–1955), who lived there from 1902–1909, and Fritz Houter- mans (1903–1966), who lived there from 1952–1966, as its guiding thread through the old town and the university district. Place names in italics mark stops along the tour. Phys. perspect. 7 (2005) 107–129 1422-6944/05/010107–23 DOI 10.1007/s00016-004-0232-0 * Ann M. Hentschel is translator of the correspondence volumes of The Collected Papers of Albert Einstein and is currently employed by the Institute for the History and Philosophy of Science at the University of Bern to write the guide for a city tour of Einstein’s old haunts in Bern for the coming jubilee of special relativity in 2005. For the historical companion guidebook, see Hentschel and Grasshoff, Albert Einstein (ref. 4) and the website <www.einstein2005.ch>. ** The fire destroyed some 650 half-timber houses between the prison tower and the cathedral in the middle of the old town. For a map, click on “sightseeing” at the website <www.berne.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 107 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.108 A Junction in Space and Time There is nothing left of the train station where Albert Einstein arrived in Bern in early February 1902. From the main entrance of the modern station that replaced it you can still see the eastern face of the Burgerspital to your right and the tower of one of Switzerland’s finest baroque places of worship directly ahead of you. The Church of the Holy Ghost, dating from 1729, was the site of some of the first democratic meetings of the Helvetic Republic. Take a left along the thoroughfare Bollwerk for two blocks, up to the corner of Aarbergergasse, and you’ll be at Einstein’s old haunt, the Café Boll- werk, formerly the Brasserie Bollwerk, which was just across the street from his work- place in the Telephone Exchange (figure 1), where the Patent Office relocated in 1907 (the Telephone Exchange building no longer exists). The young theoretical physicist met his private students here for a quick lunchtime study session in philosophy or mathematical physics and occasionally joined his friends in the Patent Office for a mug of beer after hours. A few meetings of his private study group, the Olympia Academy (figure 2), probably also took place here. The original Fig. 1. The Telephone Exchange (center, directly across from the Brasserie Bollwerk at the corner of Aarbergergasse) next to the Old Cavalry Barracks on Äusseres Bollwerk around 1900. The Patent Office was located there between 1907 and 1921. The three large portals of the old train station are just visible in the distance. Source: Anzeiger Region Bern, March 31, 2004, p. 1. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 108 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 109 idea of reading major works by the masters of physics and philosophy came from one of Einstein’s first private pupils, the Rumanian philosophy student Maurice Solovine (1875–1958). When the doctoral candidate in mathematics, Conrad Habicht (1876–1958), joined these convivial dinners, he brought with him a strong element of humor. One day when Einstein was out, Habicht affixed an embossed sign to his apart- ment door that read: “Albert Ritter von Steißbein [Sir Backside], Präsident der Akademie Olympia.” According to Solovine, it had Albert and his Serbian bride and university girlfriend Mileva Marić (1875–1948) in stitches in the hallway.1 The Acade- my’s reading list ranged from natural philosophy to literature. The epistemological issues they often ardently debated were instrumental in forming Einstein’s thinking about such fundamental physical concepts as space and time. Just next door to the Telephone Exchange was the Old Cavalry Barracks. This large and functional building, which was demolished along with the entire block in 1958 to make way for the current railway station, contained the cantonal chemistry laborato- ries as well as the university institutes for mineralogy, geology, zoology, and pharma- ceutics. Since many of the meetings of the local Naturforschende Gesellschaft (Society Fig. 2. The Olympia Academy ca. 1903. Left to right: Conrad Habicht (1876–1958), Maurice Solovine (1875–1958), Albert Einstein (1979–1955). Source: Carl Seelig, Albert Einstein und die Schweiz (Zurich: Europa-Verlag, 1952), p. 65. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 109 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.110 of Natural Scientists) were held there, the young graduate of the Zurich Polytechnic was soon mingling with Bernese Gymnasium (high-school) teachers, naturalists, engi- neers, apothecaries, chemists, medical doctors, and professors, who made up its diverse membership. Thus, in a way, the Café Bollwerk was the professional crossroads of Ein- stein as a young man, where he made the transition from technology to theoretical physics and from private tutoring to academia. Here in Bern the young civil servant became a part-time university teacher as he was developing the new conceptions of space, time, and matter that were to change the face of theoretical physics in the 20th century. One block down Aarbergergasse takes you to Genfergasse (formerly called Anatomiegasse after the university’s anatomy institute at the northern end of the street, which was torn down in 1899). Taking a left you walk past the former site of the Jewish synagogue, a somewhat dilapitated half-timber construction with the character- istic separately accessible upper gallery for women. It was owned by the local Jewish community from 1856 to 1906. Einstein’s first workplace at the next corner thus was not far away from the Bernese heart of his own cultural heritage until the synagogue moved away from downtown to a fine new temple in Mattenhof. On his way to a talk by a member of the Naturforschende Gesellschaft at the Old Cavalry Barracks, Ein- stein walked past the synagogue often enough, but not being a practising Jew, he prob- ably never went inside. The Patent Office The imposing Telegraph Building at Speichergasse 6 (figure 3), built at the turn of the last century in the French renaissance style, also accommodated the Federal Office of Intellectual Property from 1901 to 1907. Commonly abbreviated as the Patent Office, its purpose was to enforce the federal laws pertaining to patents on inventions, copy- rights in the literary and fine arts, and pattern and product trademarks. Its founding Director, Friedrich Haller (1844–1936), was being particularly open-minded when he employed Einstein in June 1902 to fill the post of Technical Expert, Third Class. Qual- ified engineers were usually taken, while Einstein only had a teacher’s diploma in mathematics and physics from the Zurich Polytechnic (Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule, ETH).2 At the turn of the last century, however, machine technology and the transportation and communications industries were in the middle of a boom, so the technical depart- ment at the Patent Office needed new examiners to process the increasing number of patent applications. The Swiss railway was being nationalized and the horse-drawn and steam-driven streetcar system had just recently been converted to electricity; tele- phone communication was at the forefront of the technology of the day.* Although it took Einstein longer than his officemate, the engineer Heinrich Schenk (1872–1938), to advance to Second Class, he eventually became specialized in what Haller said were particularly challenging patent applications in the field of electrotechnology. Einstein’s * The Telecommunications Museum is located at Helvetiastrasse 16; see the website <www.mfk.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 110 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 111 work was not very intellectually demanding for him and soon became tedious, so he began to look around for better opportunities. Besides teaching positions at various Gymnasia and technical colleges, he inquired at the Telegraph Office in the same build- ing, where the pupil he was tutoring in electrotechnology, Lucien Chavan (1868–1942), was working. This time Einstein’s lack of engineering credentials evidently worked against him. He remained at the Patent Office throughout his Bernese period and sur- repticiously grappled with his own theoretical problems after he had speedily dealt with the day’s workload. Einstein’s “civil servant’s formula for success” evidently came from personal experience: “Success (A) equals work (x) plus play (y) plus keep-your- mouth-shut (z): A = x + y + z.” 3 Gymnasium Science Turning right on Speichergasse, the next major building on the same side of the street is the Städtisches Gymnasium (municipal high school), with its eastern wing at Waisen- hausplatz 30. Einstein was an occasional visitor here as well as at the nearby private parochial school, the Freies Gymnasium, at Nägeligasse 2 (one block farther eastward at the corner of Predigergasse, now headquarters of the police medical corps). With his Fig. 3. The Federal Office of Intellectual Property was housed in the Telegraph Building from 1901 to 1907. The office Einstein shared with Heinrich Schenk was at the left on the third floor. Source: H.J. Wolf, Erinnerungen an Albert Einstein (Bern: Amt für geistiges Eigentum, 1965), p. 11a. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 111 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.112 fellow members of the Society of Natural Scientists, Einstein attended talks with demonstrations in the laboratories of these Gymnasia, frequently delivered by mem- bers of their teaching staffs. Einstein also met a few of these secondary-school teachers privately after work at the Städtisches Gymnasium to tinker in the physics laboratory on the second floor of its eastern wing. Towards the end of his stay in Bern, Einstein began to develop a small electrostatic meter, which he referred to as his “Maschinchen.” His main collaborator on it was Conrad Habicht’s brother Paul (1884–1948), an engineering student, who later placed it on the market. It was unusual for a theoretician of Einstein’s caliber to have such an active interest in technical prac- tice. A characteristic of Swiss society even as late as the turn of the last century was that its civil service – which includes university faculty – was so poorly paid that it was taken as a matter of course that the majority of untenured university teachers would have full-time jobs elsewhere, mainly as secondary-school teachers.* Thus, for lack of fee- paying students in the nascent field of theoretical physics, Paul Gruner (1869–1957), the lecturer of mathematical physics, earned his livelihood at the Freies Gymnasium as a full-time teacher of mathematics, technical drawing, and descriptive geometry for more than a decade, from 1893 to 1904. Even Emil König (1871–1948), Director of the Office of Weights and Measures, taught physics full time at the Stätisches Gymnasium, as had his predecessor. In this environment, it was hardly exceptional for Einstein later to offer courses at the university in the early hours of the morning so that he could hurry down the hill to the Patent Office in time for a full day’s work as a technical expert examining patent applications.4 Einstein’s Old-Town Neighborhood The first right off Nägeligasse takes you past the apartments of Heinrich Schenk at Predigergasse 6 and 10, which he occupied successively in 1903–1904. Schenk, who was hired at the Patent Office at the same time as Einstein, was Einstein’s permanent officemate. Another right on Zeughausgasse takes you to Zeughausgasse 41, the apart- ment of Einstein’s other coworker and close friend, Michele Besso (1873–1955). Besso lived there with his wife and eight-year-old son in 1905, during the crucial period when his neighbor was working on the final touches of his theory of relativity. Besso is expli- citly acknowledged in Einstein’s famous paper, “On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies,” for his constructive comments during their daily homeward discussions after work. Our tour continues left from Waisenhausplatz through the Käfigturm, which marks the second of three former city walls. Until 1897 it was the city’s prison tower, confin- ing such troublemakers as rampaging students or Socialist strikemongers. Following Marktgasse to Kornhausplatz, turn right and take the next left to Münstergasse 61. This is the Stadtbibliothek (municipal library), where Einstein did what research he could * This had unfortunate repercussions on the faculty. The university had difficulty attracting high- caliber researchers, particularly in sparsely attended subjects. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 112 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 113 after work during its limited opening hours. It is housed in a former granary built in 1760 that was renovated to serve as a library by the burgher commune of Bern. In 1905–1906 the university library was incorporated into the collection of the Stadtbib- liothek and housed in two newly built wings of the building. The small garden in the courtyard is the last reminant of the old botanical gardens planted by the Society of Natural Scientists in 1804 on the original university grounds, a medieval cloister of the Order of Discalced Friars (Barfüsserkloster). Continuing to Münsterplatz 12, you arrive at the building where the Civil Registry used to be. We can picture Mileva, who had studied physics with Albert at the Zurich Polytechnic, coming out of the building with Albert on January 6, 1903, with their jovial Olympian marriage witnesses Conrad Habicht and Maurice Solovine, immediately in front of the cathedral’s elaborate portal designed by the architect of its famous sister cathedral in Strasbourg. Passing to the right of the cathedral onto the promenade with a view of the river, you will find a meteorological pillar dating from 1873. At the end of the 19th century, meteorological stations were being set up in all major European cities as a public weather service.* This marble pillar, which was designed by the Bernese architect of the Städtisches Gymnasium, Eugen Stettler (1840–1913), was financed by the city on the initiative of the Society of Natural Scientists in 1865. The society donat- ed the original instruments for it: a vessel barometer, a thermometer with Celsius and Réaumur scales, and a hair hygrometer.5 It was mainly the brainchild of the society’s president in 1872–1873, the meteorologist Aimé Forster (1843–1926), who had recent- ly been appointed director of the university’s Physical Institute. Forster was a gifted popularizer of meteorology, organizing public lectures at the close of the 19th century that attracted large audiences filling up to 270 seats. A short walk northward on Kreuzgasse past the Rathaus (city hall) takes you to the former studio of the successful turn-of-the-century portrait photographer Emil Vollen- weider at Postgasse 68. The Einstein couple had their engagement and wedding pho- tographs taken there, and on another occasion the three Olympians also sat there for their group portrait. The building was sold to the city in 1918 but it is still known as the Vollenweider Haus after its former private owner. Taking the next connecting alleyway back to Gerechtigkeitsgasse we turn left to Gerechtigkeitsgasse 32, Einstein’s first bach- elor’s lodgings in Bern in the spring of 1902. There in his furnished room he made the acquaintance of Maurice Solovine, who was one of the first respondants to his adver- tisement as a tutor in mathematics and physics. That summer Einstein moved to cheap- er quarters south of the old town at Thunstrasse 43a (which is no longer in its original state), moving again in the autumn to an attic room at Archivstrasse 8 in the more pleasant neighborhood of Kirchenfeld. The first apartment he officially shared with Mileva, in January 1903, was in a family house at Tillierstrasse 18, just a few blocks away, but that October they decided to move back into town. For this fifth address of Einstein’s we have to go back down Gerechtigkeitsgasse, which becomes Kramgasse, one of the major arcaded shopping streets of the old town * Another one was farther upstream by the Federal Houses of Parliament. Color photographs of all four historic Bernese weather stations can be found at the website <www.wettersaeulen-in- europa.de>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 113 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.114 and dotted with ornate fountains from the 16th century. In those days they were in con- stant use as watering places for workhorses and dogs – Bernese mountain dogs and Saint Bernards in harness – as well as being a regular stop for housemaids and laun- dresses. Until May 1905 Albert and Mileva and their eldest son Hans-Albert, who was born in May 1904, lived in a three-room apartment on the third floor at Kramgasse 49, above a restaurant then called the Brasserie zum Gurten. It is now a museum.* Ein- stein published two major papers while living here: “On a Heuristic Point of View Con- cerning the Production and Transformation of Light,” in which he proposed his light- quantum hypothesis, and “On a New Determination of Molecular Dimensions,” from which he calculated Avogadro’s number, thus offering the first tangible evidence for the atomic theory. A plaque on this building reads: “In this house Albert Einstein in the years 1903–1905 created his fundamental papers on relativity theory”—although he actually published his famous paper after he and Mileva and son Hans-Albert moved to their next residence (which no longer exists) on Besenscheuer Weg, southwest of the fluvial peninsula. Bernese Metrology Just one block away from the Einsteins’ Kramgasse apartment is Bern’s historic clock- tower. The Zytgloggenturm (figure 4) was built around 1218 and marks the first bound- ary of the original old town. After it was seriously damaged in the big fire of 1405, it was no longer used as a prison. The astronomical clock on its eastern face was built by Caspar Brunner from Nürnberg in 1527–1530. The allegorical figures on the tower’s eastern face represent the four stages of life, those on the western face the four seasons. During the second half of the 19th century, the clocktower had the important task of indicating the local Bernese time. The clockworks, including puppets that revolve on the hour, were renovated in 1904. As early as 1874, the Society of Natural Scientists had recommended that the city modernize its timekeeping system and change over to a dozen public electrically driven clocks. The new telegraph and railway networks had made the introduction of a standard time indispensable. Clocks in Zurich, for example, diverged from Bernese clocks by as much as four and a half minutes. You can still see a collection of local standard lengths dating from 1877 attached to the wall in one of the archways of the clocktower.** These were for the convenience of local merchants and their customers and go back to the middle of the 17th century. Standardization of the myriad local Swiss measures first began in earnest during the short-lived Helvetic Republic when a law was passed in 1801 requiring the introduc- tion of the French metric system. Three decades had to elapse, however, before twelve cantons voluntarily signed a concordat in 1835 to institute a uniform Swiss system, which then gradually began to gain general acceptance. * See the website of Das Einstein-Haus: <www.einstein-bern.ch>. ** Aside from two original meter measures, they are replicas of various Swiss and Bernese foot and cord measures made between 1640 and 1769. The originals are on display at the national Historical Museum, just across the Kirchenfeld bridge at Helvetiaplatz 5; see the website <www.bhm.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 114 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 115 The Swiss Federal Constitution of 1848 laid down the jurisdiction for the establish- ment of the Federal Verification Office (Eidgenössische Eichstätte), which eventually came into existence in 1864 in the old treasury building formerly situated a block west- ward from today’s Casinoplatz. If we take Amthausgasse to the Federal Houses of Par- liament, we will have gone past two subsequent locations of the renamed Federal Office of Weights and Measures. Between 1897 and 1907 it was at Amthausgasse 17, then until 1914 it was in the basement of Parliament at Bundesplatz 3. At the turn of the twenti- eth century, it was still preoccupied with making the transition from local scales to the Parisian metric system in accordance with an international convention signed by Switzerland in 1875. Emil König (1871–1948), Director of the Federal Office of Weights and Measures from 1909 to 1932, moved it away from routine verification and enforce- ment, which duties were transferred to private testing stations. The incorporation of electro-technology into its program necessitated another move, in 1914, into a new building in Kirchenfeld at Wildstrasse 3, a street named after its first director, the Pro- Fig. 4. Bernese clocktower, originally the watchtower at the western edge of the old town. Source: Arnold H. Schwengler, Liebes altes Bern. Stadtbilder 1850–1925 (Bern: Buchverlag Verbandsdruckerei, 1975), p. 39. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 115 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.116 fessor of Physics Heinrich Wild (1833–1902).6 This building currently houses Einstein’s former employer, the Swiss Federal Institute of Intellectual Property (Eidgenössisches Institut für geistiges Eigentum). A modern extension of the building, completed in 1958, is now the main entrance at Einsteinstrasse 2. Emil König’s son Hans (b. 1904), who was appointed as Extraordinary Professor of Technical Physics in 1939 and founded the university’s Institute of Applied Physics in 1961, succeeded his father as Director of the Federal Office of Weights and Measures from 1951 to 1969. During his directorship its focus turned to fundamental research on units of measurement and natural constants, which had hitherto been left in the hands of the Physikalisch-Technische Reichsanstalt in Berlin-Charlottenburg, the National Physical Laboratory in Teddington, England, and the National Bureau of Standards in Washington, D.C. In introducing the measurement of light wavelengths, Hans König laid the foundation for later developments in Swiss high-precision metrology. Between 1910 and 1955, the Office’s personnel increased from 3 to 19, and in the following 40 years to over 100. In the mid-1960s the Office was moved to a better-equipped and iso- lated new building complex in Wabern, south of Kirchenfeld. Renamed as the Federal Office of Metrology in 1977, it expanded its functions in subsequent decades to com- ply with European organizations for calibration and accreditation and, since 2001, has been called the Federal Office of Metrology and Accreditation (Metrologie und Akkreditierung Schweiz, metas). Einstein knew both of the Königs, especially the father Emil, who had given a number of talks of particular interest to engineers at the Society of Natural Scientists. That will be our next stop. The Naturforschende Gesellschaft Crossing Bärenplatz we take a left into Spitalgasse to look at the former regular meet- ing place of the Naturforschende Gesellschaft in Bern at Spitalgasse 21. This Society of Natural Scientists was founded in 1786 by Jakob Samuel Wyttenbach (1648–1830), the Vicar of the Church of the Holy Ghost. Its aim was to promote and preserve knowl- edge about Switzerland’s natural resources. Two decades later it affiliated itself with the newly established national association (now the Swiss Academy of Science). By the time Einstein attended his first meeting of the society in 1902, its membership had risen from its original 7 to 144, coming from such disparate professions as publishing, medi- cine, engineering, and teaching. Yet, they all shared a common interest in the natural sciences in the broad sense of the term. Since the society had no premises of its own at the beginning of the last century, it rented the conference hall on the second floor of the former Hotel Storchen at Spital- gasse 21 for its regular fortnightly meetings (this building is currently occupied by the department store Globus). Scientific and technical demonstrations were held either in a laboratory of one of the Gymnasia or in an available auditorium at the University of Bern. Emil König, for instance, conducted experiments on electric current and reso- nance in the chemistry laboratory of the Städtisches Gymnasium in November 1902 and delivered a demonstration lecture on electroacoustical and optical-resonance devices, current-frequency meters, and remote-transmission towers in its physics labo- ratory in December 1903. Einstein was introduced into the society by his colleague and 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 116 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 117 fellow graduate of the Zurich Polytechnic, Joseph Sauter (1871–1961), whose expertise at the Patent Office lay in evaluating applications for devices claiming to exploit per- petual motion. Einstein was welcomed as a new member of the society at its meeting on May 2, 1903, as “mathematician at the Patent Office.” At that meeting he heard a talk on atmospheric electricity by the lecturer of theoretical physics Paul Gruner (1869–1957), who later became his mentor at the University of Bern. In December 1903 Einstein presented the only talk at the society of that fiscal year on physics proper. His talk, on “The Theory of Electromagnetic Waves,” probably touched on wireless telegraphy and Maxwell’s electromagnetic theory of light, which had been the topic of discussion at an earlier meeting on November 7. Theoretical physics was still in its infancy but was nurtured substantially by Einstein’s contributions at this time. He delivered a second talk in March 1907, “On the Nature of Motions of Microscopically Small Particles Suspended in a Liquid,” which reiterated his new method of determining molecular dimensions that he had published in 1905, the same year as his special theory of relativity. The society had to wait until 1911 for Einstein to deliver a talk on relativity theory, however, and then it was before its affiliate in Zurich. In 1914 he also gave a preview of his new theory of gravitation in Zurich. The Bernese society finally found a permanent meeting place in 1934 in the conference facilities in the then-new building of the Natural History Museum in Kirchenfeld.* The Bernese society benefited from the researches and resources of the local acad- emic institutes and medical clinics. The physiologist Theodor Kocher (1841–1917), for instance, was awarded the Nobel Prize in Medicine for1909 for his research on the thy- roid gland. The society, in turn, served teachers both as a publishing organ and as a point of convergence for theoreticians, experimentalists, and technicians. Physics had a decidedly subordinate role in the Naturforschende Gesellschaft at the beginning of the 20th century. Nevertheless, it was an ideal forum for the exchange of ideas dating back to the time of the university’s star mathematician, Ludwig Schläfli (1814–1895), the founder of multidimensional geometry. His importance began to be appreciated only after the posthumous publication of his major work on the theory of continuous man- ifolds in 1901. The physicist-historian Viktor Gorgé (b. 1931) has given a frank assess- ment of the climate for the exact sciences in Bern during the first half of the twentieth century: But neither this society nor the university kept pace with the professionization process, which was particularly conspicuous in the exact sciences. So the university just as the society sank to mere provincial importance with regard to this discipline for various reasons. One of the reasons was not least the notable circumstance that the chair for physics was filled for more than 50 years, precisely in the critical peri- od between 1870 to 1920, by a scholar who – as far as we can judge – was more a nat- ural scientist of the old school than a physicist according to new standards of the profession characteristic of the exact sciences.7 * This museum at Bernastrasse 15 has a fine collection of alpine minerals; see the website <www.nmbe.unibe.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 117 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.118 University Physics The scholar alluded to above was Aimé Forster (1843–1926), Director of the Physical Institute and Observatory, who chose to develop the field of meteorology that his pre- decessor, Heinrich Wild (1833–1902), had established.8 As Professor of Physics and Astronomy from 1858 to 1868, Wild had embarked on this field partly for lack of prop- er astronomical equipment at the former wooden observatory, which was built in 1822 under the direction of the Professor of Mathematics and Physics Johann Friedrich Trechsel (1776–1849). Forster essentially eliminated practical astronomy from the cur- riculum on the persuasive justification that Wild’s meteorological program was unique among Swiss university observatories. The building that housed the physics department where Einstein submitted his post- doctoral Habilitation thesis in theoretical physics in June 1907 was Forster’s so-called Tellurian Observatory (figure 5), which was built in 1877. It was situated on top of the formerly fortified city redoubt, the Grosse Schanze, prompting the now obsolete street name of Sternwartstrasse. It was right next to where the palacial main building of the University of Bern, completed in 1903, commands a fabulous view over the rooftops of the old town and of the snowcapped Bernese alpine range. Continue down Spitalgasse past the railway station and the Church of the Holy Ghost and take the next major right across the bridge to the university district, called Länggasse. Fig. 5. The Tellurian Observatory around 1900, which was demolished in 1958 to make way for the new science building. Source: Arnold H. Schwengler, Liebes altes Bern. Stadtbilder 1850–1925 (Bern: Buchverlag Verbandsdruckerei, 1975), p. 96. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 118 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 119 The Tellurian Observatory was built on the foundations of the wooden barracks of 1812 on the highest point of the “great redoubt,” then called the Hohliebi Bastion. Thus, all subsequent official astronomical and geodesic measurements were able to continue using the triangulation origin established at that time. A memorial stone (fig- ure 6) set into the floor of its “meridian room” was transferred to the corresponding spot in the building that replaced the observatory in 1963. It is now a few meters lower than its original site,* in an inaccessible courtyard of the Institute of Exact Sciences at Sidlerstrasse 5 (figure 7).9 Besides functioning as a meteorological and seismological station (since 1878 Forster was also a member of the Swiss Seismological Commission), the Tellurian Observatory housed the director’s residence on its bel étage and had laboratories, lecturing facilities, Fig. 6. The memorial stone of the original Swiss triangulation zero point. Source: Verdun, “Zwei Jahrhunderte” (ref. 9), p. 11 (Archiv swisstopo, Bern-Wabern). * Satellite technology has obviated the need for triangulation points in the line of sight.The national origin was redesignated in 1995, for the sake of convenience, to Zimmerwald, 10 kilometers south of Bern, where the university’s research observatory is currently located. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 119 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.120 and an instrument collection – a Physical Cabinet. The physics department finally got an auditorium of its own here. At its former location on the old campus (next to the library in the old town, where the Kultur-Casino now stands), the Physical Institute was housed directly above the chemistry laboratory. The young Professor Forster used to complain bitterly about having to shut all of the windows in the cramped, permanently damp old rooms in an effort to limit damage to his precision instruments caused by noxious fumes from the chemistry laboratory below. Ironically, it turned out that Forster’s Tellurian Observatory was ill-suited to his agenda of seismographic and geomagnetic measure- ments, owing to disturbing vibrations from the passing traffic. As far as the physics curriculum was concerned, Forster’s lectures reportedly were clearly structured but firmly rooted in the classical tradition. Among the registered stu- dents, few sought a true education in physics; most were majors in medicine or were in the teacher-training program, of which Forster was the longtime head of the national board. Before 1910 the annual output of doctorates in all of the exact sciences at the University of Bern never reached ten. Physics was in a state of transition, shaking off its shackles to the mathematics department. Thus, Einstein’s submission of his papers on relativity and light quanta in 1907 in lieu of a Habilitation thesis was a risky move. In those days it was more the exception than the rule for any European physics depart- ment to welcome his ideas. Einstein therefore was lucky to have the support of a dynamic and upcoming member of the university faculty, Paul Gruner (1869–1957, fig- ure 8).* Among the dozen physicists at Swiss universities at the time, Gruner was the only one actively pursuing theoretical research.10 Fig. 7. Sketch of the Physical Institute and Institute of Exact Sciences, 1822–1971, and top view of the latter indicating the historic national triangulation zero point on the Grosse Schanze, now Sidlerstrasse 5. Source: Verdun, “Zwei Jahrhunderte” (ref. 9), p. 9. * Gruner had just been appointed Extraordinary Professor of Theoretical and Mathematical Physics in 1906, so he was only a junior member of the jury deciding on Einstein’s application for permission to teach (Habilitation) at the University of Bern. Nonetheless, he managed to pull Einstein’s application through, even though Einstein’s theories were still considered highly controversial. The intercession of Einstein’s doctoral supervisor in Zurich, Professor Alfred Kleiner, probably played a decisive role. See Schulmann, “Einstein” (ref. 10), p. 22. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 120 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 121 Although Gruner initially followed the meteorological tradition of the physics department in his choice of dissertation topic, he introduced fresh impetus into its cur- riculum. Throughout his career, his courses on theoretical physics reflected the latest findings of the day, lecturing on radioactivity in 1904, relativity theory as early as 1908, and quantum theory in 1927. Gruner, in fact, was the driving force behind the institu- tionalization of theoretical physics in Bern after 1911. He was also an able populariz- er. In 1910 he published an elementary exposition of the theory of relativity in the Mit- teilungen of the Naturforschende Gesellschaft and in 1922 a textbook on the subject. He thus acted as an effective counterweight to the anatomist Hans Strasser (1852–1927), who as president of the society had welcomed Einstein as a new member in 1903, but who became a vociferous antirelativist after 1916. Einstein’s Habilitation thesis at the University of Bern was accepted in 1908; it was on the “Consequences for the Constitution of Radiation of the Energy Distribution Law of Blackbody Radiation,” and probably elaborated on his light-quantum hypoth- Fig. 8. Franz Rudolf Paul Gruner (1869–1957) taught courses in theoretical physics at the Univerity of Bern from 1894 until his retirement in 1939. Source: Flückiger, Albert Einstein (ref. 3), p. 101. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 121 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.122 esis of 1905. His inaugural lecture on February 27, 1908, was “On the Limit of the Valid- ity of Classical Thermodynamics.” The next two academic terms he offered lectures on “The Molecular Theory of Heat” and on “Radiation Theory” (the latter in the main building of the university at Hochschulstrasse 4, figure 9) to a couple of auditors – who with but a single exception were his personal friends and colleagues in the Patent Office. Experimental Resurrection Forster’s successor as Director of the Physical Institute in 1924 was the experimental physicist and trained concert pianist Heinrich Greinacher (1880–1974, figure 10), who had a knack for inventing ingenious devices and instruments with the limited resources that were available to him. He constructed an early ionization chamber, and his volt- age multiplier of 1926 became an important component in particle accelerators.11 His original instrument is part of the Physical Institute’s collection, some of which is on dis- play by the main staircase of the science building at Sidlerstrasse 5. There also is a bust of Einstein in its central hallway. After the Second World War, the Bernese government, swept up in the global wave of enthusiasm for nuclear energy, finally began to consider physics as a worthwhile investment, and the fortunes of the exact sciences in Bern finally turned around. Thus, in 1952 a physicist of the first order, Friedrich (Fritz) Georg Houtermans (1903–1966, figure 11),12 was attracted to Bern from Göttingen with the prospect of heading a mod- Fig. 9. At the end of the 19th century there used to be a stairway to the university’s main building at the top of the Grosse Schanze. Source: A. Etter and F. Rogger, ed., 100 Jahre Hauptgebäude Universität Bern (Bern: University of Bern, 2003), p. 30. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 122 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 123 ern department of experimental physics in a state-of-the-art science building.* Houter- mans had completed his Ph.D. degree in 1927 at the University of Göttingen and dur- ing the next decade had made fundamental contributions to theoretical nuclear physics, the theory of stellar reactions, the development of electron microscopy, and other fields of research. In 1941 he proposed a means of producing element 94 (pluto- nium).** After the end of the war, he returned to Göttingen, working on neutron physics and on methods to determine the age of rocks. Fig. 10. Heinrich Greinacher (1880–1974) was Professor of Physics at the University of Bern from 1924 to 1954. Source: Scandola, et al., Hochschulgeschichte Berns (ref. 7) p. 335. * Eduardo Amaldi notes about Houtermans’s choice of Bern over one or two alternatives: “Per- haps his remark that his decision was biased towards Bern because this was the town where Albert Einstein did his famous work at the beginning of this century, was meant only half jok- ingly.” See Amaldi, “The adventurous life,” (ref. 12), p. 665. ** Between 1927 and 1937, Houtermans worked in Göttingen, Berlin, London, and Kharkov, and in December 1937, although he had been a member of the German Communist Party since the 1920s, he was arrested in Moscow by the NKVD (the People’s Commissariat of Internal Affairs), imprisoned, and tortured. His wife Charlotte neé Riefenstahl , who also received her Ph.D. degree 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 123 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.124 In 1952 Houtermans wrote to the Dutch physicist Hendrick Casimir (1909–2000) from Bern: “If you want to see an authentic early-twentieth-century laboratory, come and visit me. But you have to come soon, for I am going to change all that.” 13 He founded the internationally renowned Berner Schule whose focus was on applications of radioactivity to the geosciences, astrophysics, and cosmochemistry. Judging from the number of his publications and students he had in Bern, this was his most productive period, despite incurring a disability following a fall in 1962. A few of his coauthored publications were on such topics as cosmic radiation, solar neutrinos, the maser condi- tion in molecular spectra, and health hazards of radioactivity. In 1953, based on his ear- lier research on the age of uranium, Houtermans estimated the age of the Earth to be (4.5 ± 0.3) × 109 years. in physics at the University of Göttingen in 1927 and whom he had married in 1930, managed to get away to England with their two children, Giovanna and Jan, from where she made extra- ordinary efforts to get him released, but to no avail. He was not released until April 1940 – and then into the hands of the Gestapo. Only the courageous efforts of Max von Laue (1879–1960) secured his release from the Gestapo prison in Berlin and, in January 1941, obtained a position for him in a private laboratory in Lichterfelde near Berlin where he worked during the war. Fig. 11. The founder of the “Berner Schule,” Friedrich (Fritz) Georg Houtermans (1903–1966). Source: Landrock, “Houtermans” (ref. 12), p. 187. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 124 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 125 One of Houtermans’s former students, Hans Oeschger (1927–1998), described Houtermans’s lectures in general physics as difficult to follow and error-prone but filled with brilliant comparisons to illuminate the underlying physical mechanisms.14 Oeschger and Houtermans developed a sensitive particle counter that became the cen- terpiece of their carbon-dating laboratory, the first one in Switzerland. In 1963 Oeschger became head of a new department of climatology and environmental physics at Bern. Houtermans’s boisterous and risqué sense of humor was legendary. Friedrich Bege- mann (b. 1927), one of his graduate students, tells the story that when the Physical Insti- tute was still housed in the Tellurian Observatory Houtermans occasionally led his “boys” down into the stairwell to wobble the sandstone pillar that was used as the Earth’s axis in practical exercises, shouting, “Let’s go and shake Switzerland a little!” In 1957 the cosmochemist Begemann was the first to determine the age of a meteorite by exposure to cosmic rays; he later became Director of the Max Planck Institute for Chemistry in Mainz. Another of Houtermans’s mischievous pranks was to “borrow” the fire hoses for a dousing after an evening at the pub, which brought down the wrath of the building supervisor. His saving excuse was that he was carrying out an emer- gency drill against radioactive contamination. Life in Länggasse Our next stop is the former guesthouse Pension Berna in which Houtermans stayed in the university district of Länggasse when he first arrived in Bern in 1952. Follow Sidler- strasse back down through Falkenplatz to Schanzeneckstrasse 17. The Pension Berna was run by the widow Emma Knuchel-Beyeler and her married sister Luise Vogt.* Coincidentally, it also is the building in which one of Einstein’s senior colleagues at the Patent Office, Friedrich Blau, lived until 1904. In the chicken coop at the Blaus’s sub- sequent residence in Muri, Einstein set up one of Bern’s first homemade antennas for receiving Morse signals from Paris. The Eiffel Tower, constructed for the World Fair of 1889, had just been turned into a transmission station at the instigation of Henri Poin- caré (1854–1912).15 Returning to Länggassstrasse, turn left and go to the Simplex building at Läng- gassstrasse 7.** When the Tellurian Observatory was demolished in 1958, Houter- mans’s Physical Institute was moved there temporarily. Physicists and applied mathe- maticians shared this former factory until 1961 when the new science building was completed (figure 12). Take the next right at Hallerstrasse, and then take a left at Gesellschaftsstrasse and go to the end to Gesellschaftsstrasse 81. At the beginning of * Friedrich Begemann remembered one of the first evenings at the Pension Berna at supper time. Serving the hot soup, the motherly matron cautioned in good Bernese: “’s isch heiss“ (to an out- of-towner, the colloquial slurring together of the words sounds like a rude German word). To which Houtermans quipped to his fellow boarders, “The Bernese have a peculiar way of say- ing ‘bon appetit’.” See Von Buttlar, Leonium (ref. 14), p. 32. ** The stationers Schreibbücherfabrik Simplex AG Bern is now located in Zollikofen. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 125 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.126 the 1950s, Houtermans occupied an apartment in this ten-unit building with his second wife, Ilse neé Bartz, and their three children, Pieter, Elsa, and Cornelia. She had worked as a chemical engineer with him in Lichterfelde near Berlin during the war, and they had married in 1944. One evening near midnight, after another long study session, Houtermans stealthily invited his hungry students in through the window of their mez- zanine apartment to pillage the refrigerator. Turn left onto Neufeldstrasse and you’ll see the Uni-Tobler building at the next cor- ner at Länggassstrasse 49a. This was the original manufacturing plant, from 1899 to 1984, of the famous prism-shaped Toblerone chocolate bars. In 1910 the Tobler Com- pany was Bern’s largest industrial employer.16 Since 1992, the building houses various university departments in the humanities and social sciences, including the Institute for Philosophy with its working group in the History and Philosophy of Science. Inside you can see how the original factory-floor atmosphere has been carefully preserved. A branch of the university library is in its high atrium. Continue down Muesmattstrasse to the University Observatory at Mues- mattstrasse 25. Forster’s focus on geophysics had come at the expense of practical astronomy: Under his directorship astronomy was taught by mathematicians and physicists strictly as a theoretical discipline. A revival occurred a dozen years after the retirement of the astronomer Georg Sidler (1831–1907) when Sigmund Mauderli (1876–1962) successfully lobbied the government in 1919 to invest in a small research Fig. 12. The Institute of Exact Sciences on Sidlerstrasse was inaugurated in 1963 under Houtermans’s directorship. Source: Scandola, et al., Hochschulgeschichte Berns (ref. 7), p. 333. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 126 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 127 observatory so that students could again finally get some practical training. The 15- centimeter classical Merz refractor in the 6-meter dome, inaugurated in 1922, was replaced three years later by the current instrument measuring 17.5 centimeters.* Three decades later the astronomy department relieved the physicists of routine meteorological tasks, and in 1978 an automated meteorological station began opera- tion in Liebefeld. Like Einstein, Houtermans also had occasion to visit the Bernese Civil Registry (then located in the police headquarters at Predigergasse 5 in the center of town). Thus, in August 1953, after divorcing his second wife Ilse, Houtermans remarried his first wife Charlotte neé Riefenstahl (no relation to the notorious German filmmaker Leni), with whom he had had two children, Giovanna and Jan. The nuclear physicist Walter Win- kler (b. 1927) remembered his former teacher debating about whom to ask as witness- es for the civil ceremony. On the two previous occasions Wolfgang Pauli had been one of them, but now Houtermans was hesitant to ask him once again: “I really can’t take Pauli again, because the odd numbers always go wrong with him. It’s sort of like a ‘Pauli exclusion principle’.” There apparently was something to it: Pauli actually came to Bern and served in this honorable capacity along with Giovanna and Jan, but this third bond of marriage lasted only a few months. Houtermans was back at the registry again the following year with his step-sister-in-law Lore Müller and her four-year old daugher Sabine.** Houtermans made light of his private life. When a student missed a lecture to attend his own wedding, his teacher reprimanded him in front of the entire class with the words: “But Mr. Lang, if I had skipped a lecture every time I was mar- ried, where would we be now?!” Forster’s vision of the University of Bern as a center of geophysical research finally materialized at the end of the 20th century. Houtermans’s interdisciplinary approach led to a fruitful collaboration in nuclear geology with the University of Pisa and the Université Libre in Brussels. Martin Teucher (1921–1978), who had taken his doctorate in nuclear physics under Houtermans at Göttingen, was placed in charge of building up a high-energy physics group using the emulsion method for detecting charged particles. Johannes Geiss (b. 1926) introduced mass spectroscopy into the program, and later, as Houtermans’s successor, space research. The exact sciences in Bern have managed to stay on a par with its European sister institutions ever since, thanks to substantial fund- ing from industry and participation in international collaborative projects. Today there is a laboratory for high-energy physics at the University of Bern, and research divisions for climatology and environmental physics, and space research and planetary sci- ence.*** Einstein would have been pleased to see unified field theory on the current theoretical agenda. * The observatory is open to the public every Thursday at dusk; other visits can be arranged by appointment. See the website <www.aiub.unibe.ch/stw/Muesmatt>. ** Their address in 1960 was Friedeckweg 24 (which no longer exists), bordering on Monbijou Park. The Houtermans later moved into a two-family house a few streets farther south at Sul- genauweg 32. Their son Heinrich was born in 1956. *** For current research being conducted at the various physics institutes, see the University of Bern’s website <www.unibe.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 127 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.128 Acknowledgment I thank Prof. Dr. Gerd Grasshoff at the University of Bern for assigning the project to write a guide for the Einstein Route Bern. I also thank Dr. phil. nat. Andreas Verdun for information on the former observatory, and my husband Klaus Hentschel for on- going valuable advice and for revising drafts of my paper. I am indebted to Roger H. Stuewer for his thoughtful and careful editorial work on it. References 1 Martin J. Klein, A.J. Kox, and Robert Schulmann, ed., The Collected Papers of Albert Einstein. Vol. 5. The Swiss Years: Correspondence, 1902–1914 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), p. 223. 2 Karl Wolfgang Graff, “Die Vorprüfung und Erteilung von Erfindungspatenten beim eidgenössis- chen Amt für geistiges Eigentum 1888–1910,” Thesis (Zulassungsarbeit), University of Stuttgart, History Department, Section for History of Science and Technology, 2001, pp. 28–29. 3 Max Flückiger, Albert Einstein in Bern (Bern: Paul Haupt, 1974), p. 60. 4 Ann M. Hentschel and Gerd Grasshoff, with a contribution on the Patent Office by Karl Wolfgang Graff, Albert Einstein: “Those Happy Bernese Years” (Bern: Bern Studies in the History and Phi- losophy of Science, 2005). This illustrated guide to the “Einstein Route” in Bern contains statistics on the teaching conditions in Bern and comprehensive references to the latest research on Ein- stein’s Bernese period in its historical context. 5 J. Heinrich Graf, Die Naturforschende Gesellschaft in Bern. Vom 18. Dezember 1786 bis 18. Dezember 1886. Ein Rückblick auf die Geschichte dieses Vereins bei Anlass der Feier des 100jähri- gen Bestehens. [Separatum from Mitteilungen der Naturforschenden Gesellschaft in Bern] (Bern: Paul Haller, 1886), pp. 68–69. 6 Wolfgang Schwitz, “Entstehung und Entwicklung des eidgenössischen Messwesens,” OFMET Info 2, nos. 1 and 2 (1995), 1–12; see also its website <www.metas.ch>. 7 Viktor Gorgé, “Die Entwicklung der exakten Wissenschaften an der Berner Hochschule. Ein Beispiel eines Professionalisierungsprozesses,” in Pietro Scandola, Franziska Rogger, and Stephan Schmidlin, ed., Hochschulgeschichte Berns 1528–1984 (Bern: University of Bern, 1984), p. 322. 8 See, for instance, Heinrich Wild’s meteorological observations from 1861 in the Mitteilungen der Naturforschenden Gesellschaft in Bern (1862). 9 Andreas Verdun, “Zwei Jahrhunderte Astronomie und Geodäsie in Bern,” Orion 61, special issue 3, no. 316 (2003), 4–12. Dr. Verdun, historian at the Bernese astronomy department, also kindly informed me about the memorial stone and referred me to the photograph reproduced here. 10 Robert Schulmann, “Einstein at the patent office. Exile, salvation or tactical retreat?” Science in Context 6, no. 1 (1993), 17–24, especially 19. 11 J.L. Heilbron and Robert W. Seidel, A History of the Lawrence Berkeley Laboratory. Vol. 1. Lawrence and His Laboratory (Berkeley, Los Angeles, Oxford: University of California Press, 1989), p. 69. 12 Iosif B. Khriplovich, “The Eventful Life of Fritz Houtermans,” Physics Today 45 (July 1992), 29–37; Edoardo Amaldi, “The adventurous life of Friedrich Georg Houtermans,” in Giovanni Battimelli and Giovanni Paoloni, ed., 20th Century Physics: Essays and Recollections. A Selection of Histori- cal Writings by Edoardo Amaldi (Singapore: World Scientific, 1998), pp. 592–695; Konrad Lan- drock, “Friedrich Georg Houtermans. – Ein bedeutender Physiker des 20. Jahrhunderts,” Natur- wissenschaftliche Rundschau 56, no. 4 (2003), 187–199. 13 Quoted in Khriplovich, “Eventful Life” (ref. 12), p. 36. 14 Haro von Buttlar, ed., Leonium und andere Anekdoten um den Physikprofessor Dr. F.G. Houter- mans 1903-1966 (Bochum: Institut für Experimentalphysik III, Ruhr-Universität Bochum, 1982), 49 pp. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 128 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 129 15 Flückiger, Albert Einstein (ref. 3), p. 71; see also Peter Galison, Einstein’s Clocks, Poincaré’s Maps: Empires of Time (New York: W.W. Norton, 2003), pp. 275-284; for further references, see the sub- section on Chavan in Hentschel and Grasshoff, Albert Einstein (ref. 4). 16 Anna Bähler, Robert Barth, Susanna Bühler, Emil Erne, and Christian Lüthi, ed., Bern – die Geschichte der Stadt im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Bern: Stämpfli, 2003), p. 73. Wissenschaftstheorie und Wissenschaftsgeschichte University of Bern Uni-Tobler, Länggassstrasse 49a CH-3012 Bern 9, Switzerland e-mail: ann.hentschel@philo.unibe.ch Titles on Toilets H.B.G. Casimir told the following story about Houterman’s propensity for teasing: He also pointed out that before World War I a coachman in Vienna would address a fare from whom he expected a generous tip as “Herr Baron.” In the twenties and early thirties intellectuals were appreciated, and passengers became “Herr Doctor.” But since World War II we live in an executive age, and consequently cabdrivers now use “Herr Direktor” as the preferred form of address. I wonder whether he was in league with Pauli to pull my leg? Anyway, he continued: “Words originally designating members of the aristocracy, like Messieurs in French or Gentlemen in English, in the long run find their way to lavatory doors. How pleasant it would be to live in a world where every loo is inscribed Directors!” Hendrik B.G. 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work_3p5zlee44fh2loil2art3hphoq	----	43-2_13_DRR_02 Fletcher, Christopher D. “vHMML School.” Citation details Early Modern Digital Review, vol. 3, no. 2, 2020, https://doi.org/10.33137/rr.v43i2.34819. Renaissance and Reformation / Renaissance et Réforme, vol. 43, no. 2, 2020, pp. 298-303, https://doi.org/10.33137/rr.v43i2.34819. Peer review This is a peer-reviewed article in Early Modern Digital Review, distributed in print by Renaissance and Reformation / Renaissance et Réforme. Copyright Early Modern Digital Review materials are published under a CreativeCommons 4.0 license (CC BY 4.0) that permits the right to share (copy and redistribute the material in any medium or format) and adapt (remix, transform, and build upon the material for any purpose, even commercially) the material, provided that the author and source are credited. The full description of CC BY 4.0 can be found on creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Early Modern Digital Review Early Modern Digital Review is an online, open-access, and refereed journal publishing high-quality reviews of digital projects related to early modern society and culture. It is committed to productive evaluation of both established digital resources and recent tools and projects. Its publications are distributed online by the journal and its partners, and in print by Renaissance and Reformation / Renaissance et Réforme. 298 digital resource reviews Stewart, Columba, project dir. vHMML School. Other. Collegeville, MN: Hill Museum and Manuscript Library, 2018. Accessed 30 January 2020. vhmmlschool.org. At a time when the formal study of paleography has all but disappeared from academic humanities departments, there has been a concerted effort to develop digital resources providing premodern scholars with this vital skill. For the most part, this work has been done by cultural institutions with rich collections of the very materials that require training in paleography to read—including the Folger Shakespeare Library (Dromio) and the Newberry Library (French Renaissance Paleography, Italian Paleography). Another prominent member of this list is the Hill Museum and Manuscript Library (HMML), an institution that has long supported the study of the premodern world with its impressive collection of manuscripts (both physical and digital) from Europe, Asia, and Africa. HMML’s efforts to make these sources available to scholars and the public continues with vHMML School, a website dedicated to introducing the study and practice of paleography for three different language traditions: Latin, Syriac, and Arabic. vHMML School serves, in a sense, as the practical component of the institution’s flagship website, vHMML, insofar as it offers users tools and resources for reading the digitized images of manuscripts HMML has put online. A new version, more explicitly focused on paleography, was launched in November 2018, with “additional lessons and improved tools for transcription, according to the “About” page on the site. The site was built on Wix, a cloud-based development platform, and features numerous images of manuscripts (and some microfilms of manuscripts), which are hosted by Amazon Web Services and viewed using the OpenSeaDragon viewer. The online transcription exercises use CKEditor, with additional interactive content for Latin exercises that uses embedded code from H5P.org. vHMML School is geared towards introducing users to “the sciences of codicology and paleography,” and, to a somewhat lesser extent, manuscripts as cultural artifacts. The resource was clearly designed to be accessible to a general public; nothing on the homepage gives the impression that it is intended for comptes rendus sur les ressources numériques 299 scholars only. The site is for anyone interested in learning about scripts or manuscripts in general (see Fig. 1). Figure 1. The vHMML School homepage. The homepage links to other resources from vHMML—such as a dictionary of technical paleographical and codicological terms (vHMML Lexicon), a repository of manuscript images with accompanying metadata (vHMML Folio), and an online bibliography of printed materials related to paleography and codicology (vHMML Reference)—that would help novice users familiarize themselves with the content of the site. Paleography training is unquestionably the centerpiece of vHMML School. The scripts available for study reflect HMML’s collection strengths in manuscripts from across the world. The content for each language is subdivided into various categories of scripts from different historical periods, from classical antiquity through the twentieth century. After choosing a script category, users encounter up to three choices for engaging with them. Every script on the site is accompanied by a “lesson,” which provides details about the particular characteristics of the script and its historical development. Many scripts are accompanied by “exercises”: short quizzes (the longest one has three questions) on particular variants of a script described in the lesson. For example, exercise 1 on the Latin Gothic Textualis script asks the user to determine which of two 300 digital resource reviews manuscripts shown is earlier, based on the lesson’s description of the change in letter forms (see Fig. 2). Figure 2. An exercise for the Latin Gothic Textualis script. Finally, in many cases users may try “transcriptions,” which offer the opportunity to transcribe selected passages and check their work against an “answer key” provided by HMML staff. By far, the Latin script has the most robust presence on the website, with eight different script categories (some, such as Visigothic and Beneventan, include more than one script), each one complete with exercises and transcriptions. The lessons here are quite detailed and richly interspersed with manuscript images, with attention paid to writing supports, the historical context behind each stage of Latin paleography, and the ways in which the comptes rendus sur les ressources numériques 301 scripts developed into different forms over time. There is less detail to be found in the Syriac lessons, and still less in the Arabic, although that is not necessarily an oversight. For instance, most of the Arabic examples show the Naskh script, which has been fairly stable over the centuries and remains very similar in appearance to printed Arabic, so there is less ground to cover in an overview. The site is, in general, easy to use. The images of the manuscripts are all presented with an interactive interface, allowing the user to zoom in and out and to rotate the images as needed (see Fig. 3). Figure 3. A transcription exercise for the Estrangela script of Syriac. Users accessing the site on laptops or desktops, however, can sometimes find themselves manipulating the images without meaning to if they use a scroll wheel, but the manuscript image can always be restored by clicking on the 302 digital resource reviews “home” icon. The transcriptions are completed in a text box immediately next to the image; usefully, the text box is equipped with the ability to manipulate fonts, create paragraphs, and insert special characters to make the transcribed text match the manuscript as much as possible. Perhaps most importantly, the transcription can also be printed for future reference. Although the site has been designed to welcome anyone interested in these historical scripts (and non-scholars certainly have much to learn from it), it is clear that the content is best suited for more advanced scholars who are looking to do primary research with historical materials, either in physical or digital archives. The basic introduction to the Syriac script, for example, states that “It is assumed that users are familiar with the basic ductus of Syriac letter shapes”; the site itself does not supply that information if a user is lacking it. Moreover, the lessons can be very lengthy, so users without any pre-existing knowledge would have to work through a fair amount of material to find the information they needed. Non-specialist users could also have benefited from the presence of more detailed metadata for each manuscript image within the resource (although that information is available in vHMML Folio). In other words, vHMML School remains a tool most effectively used by scholars with pre-existing knowledge of premodern manuscript culture who are looking to hone their paleography skills. That said, the need for precisely this kind of training is dire indeed, and it seems clear that future scholars of premodern studies will increasingly rely on digital resources to prepare themselves for archival work. Without question, vHMML School fulfills this need quite well. Thanks in large part to its integration with the other resources on vHMML, the website offers what amounts to a digital paleography seminar, combining technical knowledge with practical experience transcribing historic scripts. On its own, the site goes a long way in supplying students without any other institutional support with the training necessary to approach working with historical documents in the Latin, Syriac, and Arabic traditions with a measure of confidence. At the same time, the website could easily be integrated into actual paleography courses, offering examples of important scripts that are not widely available elsewhere. As with many similar digital resources, vHMML School allows access to paleography resources that may not be available in all institutions. Indeed, as a free and open website, scholars can access the site anywhere and at any time, including in special collection reading rooms. While it remains true that there is no comptes rendus sur les ressources numériques 303 substitute for expert-led, hands-on training in paleography, vHMML School and its fellow digital paleography resources will play a major role in providing the technical training required to keep the many fields of premodern studies thriving in the future. christopher d. fletcher Newberry Library Zecher, Carla, project dir. French Renaissance Paleography. Other. Chicago: Newberry Library, 2016. Accessed 1 January 2020. paleography.library.utoronto.ca. French Renaissance Paleography unites recently digitized medieval and Renaissance manuscripts with tried and tested tools for manuscript study. A collaborative effort among four partner institutions—the Newberry Library, the University of Toronto Libraries, the Center for Digital Humanities at Saint Louis University, and ITER: Gateway to the Middle Ages and Renaissance— the development of the site was supported by a Mellon grant. The site features an archive of research and study materials comprising high-quality images and descriptions of 107 manuscripts in Old and Middle French dating from 1300 to 1700, but this count does not include additional items, like maps and calligraphy manuals also presented among the site resources, that bring the total of digitized objects to 125. The manuscripts are evenly divided across three difficulty levels for paleographers and cover a broad range of document genres and subjects. Most were copied in France, which the project team divides into three large regions, each of which is represented equally in the materials. The vast majority of the documents come from the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, with about a quarter of them having been copied before 1500. Most of the digitized materials are held in the Newberry Library, but collections from ten different North American institutions are represented. The site identifies a broad intended audience of students, researchers, librarians, calligraphers, and designers. In fact, given the date range of documents made available via this project, the audience could be even larger than the title suggests. Indeed, the manuscripts and their contents are of genuine interest to all who study 
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work_44plwco6b5f2pjx4qt532tzwde	----	Pesados: Hospitality, tedium and the Footsteps of Al-Andalus eleazar gutwirth∗ tel-aviv university Ennui is a potent force for creation. Since –at least– the Renaissance, it has led to literary manifestations in modern languages in various forms. At the same time, tedium/fastidium in rhetoric could be a way of bringing the creative process to a halt. Curtius classifies it as a topos of the conclusion. 1 Although most of the recent critical corpus deals with the nine-- teenth and twentieth centuries, 2 the literary elaborations on the concept of tedium are richly documented in the Greco-Roman tradition and in Patristic and medieval latin literatures. modern languages receive and 1 e. R. curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages (tr. Willard R. trask) (Princeton, n.J. 1953); s. rendall, “Reading in the French Renaissance: Textual communities, boredom, Privacy,” in J. hart (ed.), Reading the Renaissance: Culture, Poetics, and Drama (new york 1996), pp. 35-43. 2 s. núñez-puente, Ellas se aburren: Ennui e imagen femenina (alicante 2001); id., “El gran ennui o la monotonía de lo insignificante: Sexualidad, dispositivo femenino y aburrimiento,” Espéculo: Revista de Estudios Literarios, Año VI, no. 14 (marzo-junio 2000), np; J. brooker, “What Tedium: Boredom in Malone Dies,” Journal of Beckett Studies 10 (2000-2001), pp. 29-39; M. W. irmscher, “On the Ambivalence of Boredom in the 1850s: J. E. Erdmann and Langeweile as Kennszeichen der Bildung,” in Deutsche Vierteljahrsschrift für Literaturwissenschaft und Geistesgeschichte 78:4 (2004), pp. 572-608; e. shinkle, “Boredom, Repetition, Inertia: Contemporary Photography and the Aesthetics of the Banal,” Mosaic: A Journal for the Interdisciplinary Study of Literature 37:4 (2004), pp. 165-184; H. hartung, “langeweile-die ersatzmutter der Musen: Zweiter venezianischer Aufenthalt-1790,” Neue Rundschau 110:1 (1999), pp. 46-50. n. jonard, L’Ennui dans la littérature européenne: Des origines à l’aube du XXe siècle (Paris 1998); P. meyer spacks, Boredom: The Literary History of a State of Mind (Chicago 1995). * gutwirth@post.tau.ac.il. sefarad (sef) Vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006 págs. 285-308 issn 0037-0894 Sefarad II.indb 285 15/12/2006 17:00:26 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth286 adapt this tradition. It appears at the end of the work in Macrobius, in Prudentius and still in the seventeenth century, in Milton: “Time is our tedious song should here have ending.” 3 it is also a topos of the Prologue which comes under humilitas. 4 Thus, under the modesty to-- pos, the author assures his reader that he wishes to spare him boredom. Quintilian [Institutions v, 14, 30] warns against fastidium. Boredom comes in many guises and recently Kuhn concentrated on an ennui which is independent from external circumstances. 5 it is related to accedia in the Middle Ages and to melancholy in the Renaissance. It has a link to time and to death. Kuhn invokes Julien Green who writes, in his Diary: “With the years, any man who has given the matter some thought realizes that ennui quite simply is one of the faces of death and that it is death that people flee when they travel...” 6 Our interest here differs somewhat from these approaches (as the pesado is linked to but not identical with ennui), but it retains the useful link of tedium to space, time and death. It is possible to attend to speci-- fities –geographic, linguistic, cultural– of genres and modes of writing about tedium and fastidium. The focus here will therefore be on the Iberian Peninsula in the middle ages and on a relatively defined theme: that of the pesado. i in ben sira (Ecclesiasticus, 29:25) we read: “You receive the guests and hand the drinks without being thanked for it” and in 29:27: “Be off stranger, make way for a more important guest.” This tradition of Ecclesiasticus in Greek, then, is based on the belief in the aptness of wisdom genres as a framework for discussing hospitality. There is an intimation of time: “Be off” alludes to “overstaying” and to the unde-- sirable guest. In the Hebrew and Aramaic texts there is a shared belief 3 cited by curtius, European literature. 4 curtius, European Literature, p. 85. 5 R. c. kuhn, The Demon of Noontide: Ennui in Western Literature (Princeton 1977). 6 kuhn, The Demon of Noontide, p. 26. Sefarad II.indb 286 15/12/2006 17:00:27 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 287 in this classification of hospitality under wisdom. Similarly there is, sometimes, also an implied link to time and to grading the guests in a hierarchy. Thus, Derekh Ere Zuta 8: Worse [than those who eat before their guest] is a guest who invites a guest; worse than him is someone who eats before the scholar...; an annoying/tiresome [matria] guest is worse than all three. In Late Medieval Spain, the more widely diffused version was still alive. In the Menorat Ha-Ma’or 7 of R. Israel al-Naqawa we read: “Three are the light [= worthless]; he who lives in the house of his father in law, a guest who invites a guest and bran.” The Mishnah in Baba Batra (98b) had included, in a legal discussion of buildings, a building defined as “a wedding house for his son” that is, a father’s building destined to serve as the first family house of his son after the latter’s marriage. The Gemarah questions this gender specific building for a son. In reply, it explains the Mishnah’s intentions or im-- plications by appeal to a non-legal area, that of the wisdom genre: Why has it been stated “a wedding house for his son...” and not a wedding house for his son or daughter...? By this the Mishnah has taught us incidentally that it is not proper for a son in law to live at the house of his father in law... That this idea is a legitimate concern of the wisdom genre is demon-- strated by a quotation from one of the prominent texts of that literature. The implication of the Gemarah is not merely that Ben Sira circulated in Hebrew in these circles before c. 500 but that, although not part of the canon, it was an authoritative text: ... As it is written in Ben Sira: I have weighed all things in the scale of the balance and found nothing lighter than bran; lighter than bran is a son in law who lives in the house of his father in law; lighter than such a son is a guest who brings with him another guest and lighter than such a guest is he who replies before he hears the question. 7 israel ben yosef ben alnakavah, Sefer Menorat ha-Ma’or... (new york 1929- 1932) (ed. H. enelow) vol. 4, p. 450. Sefarad II.indb 287 15/12/2006 17:00:27 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth288 ii Questions of hospitality are thus related to legal texts, although this hospitality had not been closely codified. These texts were not recon-- dite jewels accessible to the erudite only. Baba Bathra, unlike some other Talmudic treatises, was part of the basic education of the average Jewish reader in medieval Spain as elsewhere. The medieval survival of this particular case of a Ben Sira maxim –unlike other Judeo-Hellenistic texts– is documented. They concern hospitality and worthlessness or being qal –“light.” In eleventh century Al Andalus, there would be con-- tacts with the Arabic Adab tradition of the thaqil “heavy.” One cannot rule out paronomasia [qal-thaqil] as a factor. These contacts, in our case, are not mere assumptions but are made explicit more than once. The Arabic thaqil would lead to the Hebrew kaved. This “heavy” would replace or add to the older (but equally undesirable), “light” guest. The kaved’s link to the thaqil was remembered centuries later. In fif-- teenth century Granada, Seadyah ibn Danan’s Book of Roots [Sefer ha-Shorashim] would include, as one of the sixteen Arabic acceptions of kaved, that of thaqil. 8 By the eleventh century there were in circulation Adab collections which considered the thaqil/pesado a discrete theme with its own rubric and its own section, containing apothegms on the pesado only. adab collections with wisdom sayings concerning the pesado/thaqil would in-- clude Uyunu l-Aqbar [Choice Stories] by Ibn Quteiba of Baghdad (d. c. 884-889), The Necklace of Pearls by Al-Aqad al-Farid ibn Abd Rabah of córdoba (940), and The Lamp of the Kings by sarag al-maluk abu bakr of Tortosa (d. 1126). They contain sayings such as the one concerning the king who would show some of his guests a ring 9 with the following 8 seadyah Ibn danan, Sefer ha-Shorashim (ed. m. jiménez sánchez) (Granada 1996), p. 163. 9 Razhavi (see infra) produces a series of literal parallels/sources in arabic gathered from Adab collections. It may be added that the discussion of engravings or maxims engraved on jewells/rings seems to be a convention in collections of max-- ims of the wisdom genre being produced in thirteenth century Castile [even if there are echoes later e.g. in tales about Isabel la Católica]. Thus, we find entire sections of wisdom books in the romance of Castile wholly devoted to reporting on maxims engraved on rings. I have not yet found this particular maxim but here it may be relevant to recall another: “... en el sello de Tolomeus avie escripto: El pesar faze Sefarad II.indb 288 15/12/2006 17:00:28 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 289 engraving: “Pesado, get up!” [i.e. leave]. The question of authorship in these collections of sayings is not as appropriate as in other genres. There seems to be a movement between oral and textual. The explicit attribu-- tions in this literature point to Persian, Greek, Beduin and early Islamic sources, and also occasionally to Christian (New Testament), Jewish (e.g. King david) and Quranic sources. 10 One of the main influences, never-- theless, seems to be the Uyunu, i.e. a work from Baghdad. It may be no coincidence that it is in Spain that the contact seems to appear. The old Adab from Baghdad was not discarded despite attempts at autonomy. There was a propitious background for interest in such themes. In eleventh century Córdoba, 11 Ibn Hazm tells the story of a courtier in charge of building works, Abu-l-Barakat, who used to change his apparel as frequently as a chameleon; he claimed that he was bored even with his own name; he would frequently change friends and lovers. Ibn Hazm reacts by composing a poem on inconstancy. Ibn Hazm can be seen in the context of the aesthetes of eleventh century Córdoba whose attitudes are characterized by the thirst for novelty. 12 The reaction against what was considered routine is shown by the case of Ibn Suhayd. 13 and yet, like constancy, monotony is also present as an aesthetic quality in poetry. The anthology known as The Pennants of the Champions and the Standards of the Distinguished is the product of the personal taste of the editor, Ibn Said, who compiled it in Alcalá la Real in 1243. 14 This leads him to in-- clude (p. 134) Ibn al-Abbar (d. 1260) from Valencia who wrote a poem to the wheel: “The water wheel turns rises and sinks... to pour again...” An added example would be Ibn Saad al-Khair (fl. 12th century): “The wheel turns... the lamenting doves relate it to their loves... so the lovesick swain/turns and turns again...” al omne seer aburrido...”, see H. knust, Mitteilungen aus dem Eskurial (stuttgart 1879), p. 5. 10 See for all this Y. razhavi, “Meqorotaw ha-araviyim shel Mivhar ha-peninim”, Sinai 102 (1988), pp. 97 ff. and Sinai 103 (1989), pp. 21 ff. 11 ibn hazm, El collar de la paloma (trad. e. garcia gómez) (madrid 1979), p. 200. 12 ibn hazm, El collar, p. 32. 13 Ibid. 14 a. J. arberry, Moorish Poetry: A Translation of The Pennants (cambridge 1953). Sefarad II.indb 289 15/12/2006 17:00:29 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth290 iii It is in this atmosphere of meditations on repetition, monotony, tedium, fastidium, time and leisure that we find a relevant Hebrew poem in the Diwan of Shemuel ha-Nagid. 15 That is to say that the contact between Hebrew and arabic occurs in a milieu of scribal, bu-- reaucratic, courtly concerns in Southern Spain. The author [Joseph ibn Nagrella?] of the rubric to the poem of Shemuel ha-Nagid links the Hebrew poetic theme of the kaved to the Arabic thaqil. The ru-- bric reads: “His [poem in which he] complains about a thaqil [heavy] who sticks to him.” You are like the deep sea [meulah] with no coast an angel and not a man You rise up to the Pleiades With no ladder and no pinion I am a prisioner and with me is a man He will not break away he will not depart Without a sword, he is the death of me Without plague, he will cause my death What am I to do? A Sisera has come But there is no Yael [to get rid of him] Hurry and come to my defense As did Abraham to Shemever [Whom he saved from the armies of Kedarlaomer]. 16 The first two verses bear affinity with the encomium which fre-- quently opens panegyrics or prayers. The next two verses do address themselves to the theme of the pesado. They describe the character or type: Someone who is “with me” here [in his house?] and will not leave and causes him discomfort. Out of the two verses, then, one describes the pesado and the second describes the Nagid, albeit in his reaction to the pesado. The last two verses are a cry for help, which, again, do not tackle the work of description or characteriza-- tion of the pesado. The effect is created by disproportion and asym-- 15 Shemuel ha-nagid, Diwan (ed. d. yarden) (Jerusalem 1966), section 3, no. 80, p. 226. 16 cf. Gen. 14:1-2 Sefarad II.indb 290 15/12/2006 17:00:30 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 291 metry, the hyperbole of the panegyric opening verses is carried on in the description of the kaved/thaqil/pesado whose annoyance is disproportionately associated with death by sword and by plague. The underlying notion seems to be that the central theme of the poem must be mentioned so briefly and subtly as to be almost unrecogniz-- able. The task is to create a hyperbole so elevated that it produces a comic effect. And yet it has to be admitted that, with the possible exception of a preposition, the poem could apply to a number of other situations. It is the rubric which has the function of granting it significance and specificity. The link to time and death, however, is repeated and undeniable. iv It would be possible to miss the significance of the eleventh cen-- tury text Mivhar Ha-Peninim [Choice of Pearls] as a link in the chain of surviving texts on this theme. Usually the treatments of the text tend to concentrate on problems of authorship and translation [still not completely resolved]. There is, in addition, the highly problem-- atic quality of various mediations which approached the text of the Choice of Pearls from perspectives and points of view which have very little to do with medieval Spain. 17 The whole question has been revived and taken to a new level recently thanks to the research on Adab collections and other sources by Razhavi. 18 17 The Pietrkov edition of 1911 of the Mivhar Ha-Peninim contains the Perush maspiq which glosses “kaved” (ad. loc.) as “bi-l[eshon] a[shkenaz] grober man.” Similar is the case of the Victorian version by B. H. ascher, A Choice of Pearls: Embracing a Collection of the Most Genuine Ethical Sentences, Maxims and Salutary Reflections ... English Translation, with Explanatory Notes and Illustrative Parallels by... (London 1859), chap-- ter LIX, p. 129, who misses the specificity of the chapter on the pesado by introducing the term “intrusiveness.” The tradition of Victorian translations with their stylistic ideals and moralistic aims has had a much stronger influence than might have been assumed. It has certainly had a very strong influence on Gonzalo Maeso’s translation into Castilian, Selección de perlas = Mibhar ha-peninim: (máximas morales, sentencias e historietas) / selomó ibn gabirol; versión española, con introducción y notas por d. gonzalo maeso (barcelona 1977). 18 razhavi, “Meqorotaw haaraviyim...” Sefarad II.indb 291 15/12/2006 17:00:31 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth292 The pesado has a whole chapter to himself in the Hebrew version (chapter LIX, on pesadez/“heaviness”: [632] The sage says: he who enters into a place where there are two people and sits without their permission will be held in contempt [nimas] till he leaves. [633] and he says: Dismiss the heavy one [pesado] by paying little attention to him. [634] and he says: Eating with a loved one is a remedy eating with an enemy is tedious/revolting [qava]. 19 [635] He whose discourse is too long will cause people to hold his words in contempt. [636] He said: A king wrote on his ring “you have become heavy. Rise!” [i.e. leave]. [637] the sage ordered his son: Do not sit with heavies for I have found in a book of medicine that the company of the heavy is [like a] quartain fever. [638] and he said: If someone’s soul [presses] heavily upon you, turn deaf and blind to him. [639] and he said: When the heavy knows that he is heavy he is not heavy. 19 In the context of our inquiry, qav a [although not particularly common and although its etymology is doubtful, when it (or its derivates) appears in the sources] is resonant: It is used about Hananiah ben Azzur. As will be recalled it was used of him in the Jerusalem Talmud (Yer. Sanh. xi. 30b), where it is asserted that “… And that which was not said to him –like Hananiah ben Azzur. Rabbi Yehoshua ben Levi said, Hananiah ben Azzur was a true prophet, but… he heard what Jeremiah prophesied in the upper market and descended and prophesied in the lower market…” TB Sanhedrin 56b has him learning by qal wa homer from the words of Jeremiah. Abraham ibn Ezra wrote that the false prophet is merely imitating the true prophet and “steal-- ing” his words (ibn ezra, ad Deuteronomy 13:2). It seems clear that the associations evoked by qava and derivates are those of repetition, imitation and revulsion. It may be recalled that maimonides, Guide of the Perplexed, part II; ch. 40, had referred to Hananiah ben Azzur in similar terms: “Others, like Hananiah, son of Azzur [Jer. 28:1- 5], claim the capacity of prophecy, and proclaim things which, no doubt, have been said by God, that is to say, that have been the subject of a divine inspiration, but not to them. They nevertheless say that they are prophets, and adorn themselves with the prophecies of others.” Sefarad II.indb 292 15/12/2006 17:00:31 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 293 [640] and he said: Do not sit with the heavy for his company is vexing. Behind the discussions of authorship one senses a unanimous critical consensus as to the lack of quality in the work. Part of this has to do with the character of a “collection.” The opposition between a literature by addition and one by “organic” development of a concept may be carried too far. Here for example, there are recurring themes which create their own kind of coherence. The pesado appears in situations of “sitting with” (e.g., do not sit with pesados 637; 640) situations of meals or hospital-- ity [634] and conversation [635]. These are the basic, elementary social situations which are regulated neither by religion nor by civil law. The pesado has not infringed their criminal, civil or other regulations. For us, the main implications do not concern the problems of the variae lectiones, or that of individualistic authorship of wisdom florilegia. Whatever one’s opinion about them, it is quite clear that a mainstream work current in Hispano-Jewish communities provided a model for writing on the subject of the pesado. The transition from wisdom to other literary elaborations had already been attempted by Shemuel ha-Nagid. The pesado –as shown by the classification system of the Mivhar and the rubrics of the Nagid’s Diwan– was considered a discrete type rather than the vague negative concepts of late commentators and translators. v By the twelfth century, we find a fully developed Hebrew maqa-- ma in the case of Ibn Zabara’s composition. 20 Here, as in the tradition which follows it, the collection of wisdom sayings is grafted to a narra-- tive framework. Thus, chapter seven of the Book of Delights contains a scene of a meal, banquet or symposium, where one of the table compan-- ions offers to entertain the others with Arab sayings. There are ninety- nine of them. They culminate in this last one: ... a certain king had a ring whereon was graven: Thou hast become heavy. Go! 20 Joseph ben Meir ibn zabara (b. c. 1140?), Sefer Shaashuim. The Book of Delights (translated by m. hadas; with an Introduction by M. sherwood) (new york 1932). Sefarad II.indb 293 15/12/2006 17:00:32 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth294 Whenever anyone overstayed his welcome he would show him the ring and he would depart... When he had made an end of uttering his beauteous words and pleasant speeches we laid us upon our couches and our sleep was sweet to us. And when morning came we took leave of him... The Book of Delights repeats the wisdom saying found in the Choice of Pearls. The general ambiance is that of table sayings, symposia or hos-- pitality. The “ninety-ninth saying” about the pesado would correspond to the topos of tedium/fastidium in the conclusion; both function as reasons for ceasing to create –i.e.: ending. It includes it within a series whose link to Arabic texts is made explicit (cf. “Arabic sayings”). In this it becomes part of a tradition of Hebrew compositions which invoke this link as part of the presentation of a text. They are therefore, both similar and different from the next example. It comes from the Hebrew composition known as Ishaq’s Mishle Arav [Fables of the Arabs.] vi Given the scant data about Ishaq, the author, 21 and about his context, one has to attend to the title: Is mashal –in this area and period– prov-- erbs, fables, parables or allegories? The question seems to be wrong-- ly posed. It assumes a narrow, technical, exclusive usage of a rather loose term. In the early fourteenth century, Asher of Cologne, Rabbi in Toledo would express a general attitude when acknowledging the aptness of the Arabic language for what may be understood vaguely as literary activities; amongst them is the mashal. 22 The main thrust is the non-legal quality of such writings, rather than strict literary defini-- tions of genre. The concept is used in a flexible, inclusive way here. The Mishle Arav includes proverbs, parables, allegories, poems, and 21 ed. s. sachs, Ha-Levanon iv, p. 290. m. steinschneider Die hebraeischen Übersetzungen des Mittelalters und die Juden als Dolmetscher (berlin 1893), pp. 884- 887; for him, the chapter deals with “Belastigung.” See also E. fleischer, “appendix,” in J. schirman-e. fleischer, The History of Hebrew Poetry in Christian Spain and Southern France (Hebrew) (Jerusalem 1997), pp. 216-221. 22 e. gutwirth, “Toledo, circa 1320: Los judíos y el Árabe,” in C. carrete et al. (eds.), Creencias y culturas (salamanca 1998), pp. 97-112. Sefarad II.indb 294 15/12/2006 17:00:33 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 295 are not restricted to any one of these media. As is well known, he is cited by Meiri and usually ascribed roughly to the age of Al-Harizi. As in the rest of the text, we find the confluence of maxims/proverbs i.e. a) A gnomic component, frequently in the form of rhymed prose; b) metered poetry; and c) brief narratives or stories, allegories, parables. Such prosimetric literature is not restricted to any one source; it belongs to numerous cultures from those of India to Greece. The title, however, is within the tradition of presenting the Hebrew text as linked in some way to such specific language and culture. The Arab authors alluded in the title, however, have not been found by literary historians. For our purposes, what is of interest is the Hebrew tradition, by then centuries old, of interest in such prosimetric texts represented by, for example, the success of the Hebrew maqamat in Hispano-Jewish communities. The constant Biblical allusions in its various forms, as well as the oc-- casional Talmudic idioms, are aspects of the author’s own creativity. The continuities with Shemuel ha-Nagid could be found in a) The attention to the effects of the pesado; b) The attention to the victims of the pesado; c) In the investment in literary development of hyperbolic prayers asking for liberation from his yoke; also, d) there are “lists of hor-- rors” preferable to encountering a pesado. These include a meeting with a bereaved bear; the day of separation/departure; the house of mourning; the length of a year of hunger and the lack of clothing. Nevertheless, Ishaq’s text does advance beyond this. He does at-- tempt to rise to the challenge of describing him and creating a character. Its chapter 37 is wholly devoted to the pesado. In line with the rest of the book, the chapter opens with a distich which functions as rubric or title: May the hated kevedim [pesados] not cleave unto you. Their Creator hates them and He caused the hearts of creatures to change towards them. Again we find the practice of perceiving and classifying the pesado as a discrete, well defined category of wisdom literature. In the gnomic sections of chapter 37 we read that “... he goes to a table without having been called” or “he becomes involved in other people’s quarrels” or “he sits in a place which is unfit/not apt for him” or “he profers advice when Sefarad II.indb 295 15/12/2006 17:00:33 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth296 unasked.” The “sitting” and the “table” are some signs of the tradition in which he belongs. Here we have advanced beyond Shemuel ha-Nagid’s refusal to create a character outside of him. The kaved is not only an amplificatio of tedium, although that is also a component. One of the me-- tered verses expresses the wish to be “deaf while he speaks.” A story interspersed in the chapter presents the pesado in a visit to a sick man; he asks the patient what is his illness and, when told, he replies: “Oh yes, my father died of that illness.” Another story is about the pesado who comes to a gathering of friends drinking. He ruins their joy. He tells them to drink and offers to sing a song/poem and they moan repeatedly. The sick-bed, the drinking party, the descriptions of ugliness (how-- ever vague) show not only an engagement with the challenge of poetic creation of a character, but also a move towards a realism of sorts. That is to say, they are concerned, to some extent, with the creation of an ef-- fect of reality by introducing certain non hyperbolic, external, concrete details, even if some of them are stock motifs (e.g. the drinking feast). The awareness of the need for some variety and variation on the theme, by then older than a millennium may be perceived in Al-Harizi, too. Here the solution to the same problem seems simple and yet radical. After a thousand years of complaining about the guest who smells like a fish, Al- Harizi seems to be implying that the time had come to explore the smell of the host. In his 34th chapter, the merchant’s invitation –an elaboration of the 22nd maqama by the tenth century Al-Hamadhani– he tries to rise to the challenge of representation, in Hebrew, of the host as tedious/an-- noying rather than the guest as tedious. In a Hebrew mimesis of tedium he has to solve the problem of writing in artistic Hebrew prose about tedium without being tedious. The host becomes tedious, not on the third day, but as soon as they begin to walk towards the house. This first section seems to be a self-reflective satire on literature itself, particularly on the old type of poetic self praise. Another example of tedium is the portrait of the cup bearer –in this case water rather than wine– which is, in fact, by implica-- tion, a parody, satire and, ultimately, a condemnation of the basic assump-- tions of the “classical” poetry in Arabic and Hebrew and more precisely one of its mainstays: the description of the ephebe. 23 He ridicules this 23 J. schirmann, Ha-Shirah ha-Ivrit bi-Sefarad uve-Provans: Mivhar shirim ve-si-- purim mehorazim be-tseruf mevoot, maftehot ve-tsiyurim (Jerusalem 1954-1956), vol. 3, p. 183, lines 61-69. Sefarad II.indb 296 15/12/2006 17:00:34 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 297 tradition of encomia of the cup bearer as he had previously (ibid., lines 42-46) ridiculed the work of poetic description of the beautiful woman as tedious: Kol zeh ha-aar –“all this trouble/pain”– is the guest’s reaction to hearing the basic components of that classical literature: Self praise, description of beautiful women or men, cup bearers, etc. vii The fulfillment of the task of renewal is accomplished within that culture and those communities, but in the romance of Castile, by Shem Tov Ardutiel de Carrión de los Condes, around the mid-fourteenth cen-- tury. Lines 527-546 of his Proverbios Morales comprise nineteen verses devoted to the theme of the pesado. There are textual problems, as they are present in only one manuscript, that of El Escorial (B.IV.21, ff. 1- 86). Evaluations range from “long winded and rather insipid” 24 to “re-- fundicion” and “trivialization.” 25 Amongst the most influential critics is Castro, who asserted: 26 “así ingresa en la literatura por vez primera el tema del hombre pesado.” He does not seem to have developed this. Nor does he seem to have suspected the long tradition which preceded the Proverbios. Shem Tob was studied again and again by Castro’s followers but this notion of Shem Tov’s pesado as an epoch making literary novelty has not been impugned, proven or developed even if subjective reactions have differed. Shem Tov is concerned, at a general level, with the problem of locat-- ing the ideal “golden mean” of an ultimately Aristotelian ethics. This “mean” of course was not restricted to a particular area of philosophy; it was searched for in other fields as well such as medicine. This search for the mean then, has nothing strange for ancient and medieval categories. 24 Proverbios Morales, Ed. with an Introduction by I. gonzález llubera (cambridge 1947). santob de carrión. Proverbios Morales (ed., study and notes by t. a. perry) (madison 1986), p. 177. 25 sem tob de carrión, Proverbios morales (ed. P. díaz-mas y c. mota) (madrid 1998), “introduccion,” p. 95. 26 a. castro, España en su historia. Cristianos, moros y judíos (buenos aires 1948), pp. 534ff. Sefarad II.indb 297 15/12/2006 17:00:35 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth298 The mean, by definition, has no independent place and must, therefore, be located by meditations on the extremes. These extremes are the very matter of the so called Proverbios Morales. The question of human’s relations to each other, the right mean between solitude/isolation and community/social living or sociability is a large field which was seri-- ously developed in various cultures and in various areas, trends or ways within these cultures. Shem Tov’s disquisitions on the extreme of soli-- tude invite, logically, a poetic, versified and symmetrical examination or articulation of the other extreme, i.e. (undesirable) society/company. Once this is understood, there need be no resistance to his decision to create a section on undesirable society any more than to his section on undesirable isolation. Indeed, once we accept (as everyone does) that there is a section on the extreme of solitude, it would be very surpris-- ing indeed to find that there is no corresponding section on excesses of company. The transition from solitude to company does not seem illogi-- cal or forced. it is certainly explicit: [547] mal es la soledat / mas peor es conpaña de omre syn verdat / que a omre engaña. [548] Peor conpaña destas / omre torpe pesado: Querrie traer acuestas / albarda mas de grado! 27 Here we have the gradation of three evils and the assertion that the pesado is the worst: “mal es... peor.” This is the structure of the Ben Sira saying in bb, in Derekh Ere Zuta and, later, in the Menorat ha-Maor. The “querrie traer a cuestas...” again echoes the convention of the list of horrors which are preferable to the company of the pesado that we found in Shemuel ha-Nagid or the Mishle Arav for example. Who is the pesado? 28 This is the underlying question in lines such as: [530] ... onbre que pesado / es, en todo su fecho... 27 Quotations to the Proverbios Morales are taken from the González Llubera edition (cambridge 1997) 28 Shem Tov gives us a clearer profile of the pesado than his predecessors: He has a “tienda” [H. 550]; he is someone who has a horse and wants an “aparejo” for it [537], who “fazeme preguntas necias” [558]; who wants “que se le ria el mundo” [541]. Sefarad II.indb 298 15/12/2006 17:00:35 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 299 [531] ... al tal, nin por rruego / non querria fablar, quanto mas tras mi fuego / escuchar su parlar. [or again (it is preferable)] [553] yazer en la montaña / a peligro de syerpes, e non entre conpaña / de omres pesados tuerpes! [560] Çierto es par de muerte / la soledat, mas tal compañia com este, / estar solo mas val. Here, we find again the descriptions or, rather, poetic explorations of the effect of the pesado and the list of horrors preferable to en-- countering a pesado, as in Ibn Nagrella or Ishaq, the author of Mishle Arav. The man who, in the mountain, is surrounded by serpents is a relative of the one who is threatened by Sisera without Yael and, more closely, of the one who encounters “a bereaved bear” (Hos. 13:8). These antecedents help us to understand Shem Tov’s verses. But the image of the “man in the mountain” –traditional analogy to solitude– who is cercado (“surrounded”), accompanied (i.e. not alone), is on another level of poetic creation. It raises the central question of the section: Solitude versus company, or, in other words, the question of locating the (ultimately Aristotelian, ethical) golden mean by medita-- tions on the extremes. The association of pesado-hospitality requires certain decisions on which aspects of hospitality to include and which to exclude from the lit-- erary representation. It is a problem which must have informed previous treatments. Thus one can think of a tradition of set pieces on the efforts made by the host to offer hospitality. This would explain the existence of a variant: Al-Harizi’s thirteenth century satirical lines on the country yokel as host: Hospitality is as sweet to my taste as milk wrung out of cattle- curds...; when I hear the voices of guests at midnight I call out to my sons: throw open the gates! Guests that make me as happy as a wolf that has filched a kid from the flock... I delight in doing favours... my eyes long to see guests as the eyes of asses long for barley... 29 29 Judah al-harizi, in t. carmi, The Penguin Book of Hebrew Verse (london 1981), 389ff. Sefarad II.indb 299 15/12/2006 17:00:36 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth300 Al-Harizi seems to assume that the task of literary constructions of hospitality involve mentioning the moment of arrival; the food; the ef-- forts of others (cf. “I call out to my sons”). Shem Tov, in his section on the pesado, seems to see these particular moments as part of the decorum too. Shem Tov includes the motif of the relatives-as-guests: [528] non digo por pariente / o amigo espeçial, que ha por bien la gente / compaña deste tal. This cluster of associations of relatives and disquisitions on the pe-- sado and the theme of host/guest are present in the Talmudic discussion of BB we mentioned above. They link the relative-as-guest to the guest as overstaying his welcome to the field of wisdom literature (Ben Sira). Shem Tov would then be excluding relatives from the description of the pesado in a gesture of polemics or disagreement with the ancient wisdom cluster on host-guest-relatives-time span of visit. The notion that in host- guest relations the third day is crucial-the day the guest and the fish begin to stink-is in the Proverbios: [541]... mas quiere en el [dia] terçero / que se le rria el mundo. Here again, time (dia tercero) is related to the motif of heaviness (hon-- bre pesado). Shem Tov includes mentions of a second guest: [533] Quando vno se parte... / viene [otro] por otra parte. Here again, the association of first guest and second guest [but no third or fourth guest] is also present in the discussion of the guest who invites a second guest in the Talmudic citation of the Hebrew Ben Sira in BB and Derekh Ere Zuta. The main interest, however, are the techniques of real-- ism in this creation in the romance. [533] Quando vno se parte / pienso perder querella, viene por otra parte / quien desfaze su fuella. Does the clearly visible fuella of the first pesado which is unmade by the second pesado (as elucidated by mota-díaz-mas ad. loc.) imply a snowy landscape rather than a muddy one? Whatever the case, this is Sefarad II.indb 300 15/12/2006 17:00:36 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 301 no longer the poetry of the sunny patrons and its luminous, stellar meta-- phors. Equally deceptive would be the superficial resemblance to those eleventh-twelfth century Hebrew “close-up poems,” zooming in on an apple, a fish plate or a gift of cheese. Although unnoticed, there is an archetypal metaphor which functions as subtext. It stands for a whole cultural tradition. The initial nasib of me-- dieval poetry preserves some affinities with the beginnings of the ancient qasida of the Jahiliya with its song of nostalgia for the ruins of the aban-- doned encampments. One of its motifs is that of the “ruinas holladas.” 30 Ibn Qutayba’s account of the contents of the qasida reads: “I have heard from a man of learning that the composer of odes began by mentioning the deserted dwelling... and traces...” 31 Abid ibn al-Abbas in the first half of the sixth century composed the line “Dost thou weep for a van-- isht abode, over traces of tents outworn” 32 or, elsewhere, “the tent traces of Sulaima are all effaced in Dakadik and desolate / the violent tearing winds have swept them away.” 33 amr b. madikkarib sings: “When I saw the hard earth hollowed / by our women’s flying footprints...” 34 imru l-Qays Muallaqa has a line which reads: “I led her forth she trailing as we go / her broidered skirt lest any footprint show...” 35 Ibn Hazm tells us that, in the Mosque of Córdoba, he studied and com-- mented, under Abu Said Al-Fatah Al-Chafari, the beginning of a Qasida muallaqa by Tarafa ibn al-Abd: “I remembered the love of my friend which was like the footsteps of Jawla in the stony grounds of Tahmad.” 36 Ibn Hazm describes the poetic convention whereby the departure/sep-- aration causes the poet to weep by the site of separation and bemoan while the footsteps of the past revive their buried passion. Ibn Hazm tells the story he heard from “one of the recent arrivals from Córdoba” from 30 e. garcía gómez, Cinco poetas musulmanes (madrid 1944), p. 37. 31 R. a. nicholson, A Literary History of the Arabs (cambridge 1941), p. 77. 32 G. e. von grunebaum, Themes in Medieval Arabic Literature (ed. with a foreword by d. s. wilson; preface by s. vryonis, Jr.) (london 1981), iii, 136. 33 al-abbas in lyall’s translation, is cited by von grunebaum, Themes, section v, p. 140. 34 nicholson, Literary History of the Arabs, p. 82. 35 nicholson, Literary History of the Arabs, p. 106. 36 ibn hazm, El collar de la paloma (trad. e. garcía gómez) (madrid 1994), pp. 194-195. Sefarad II.indb 301 15/12/2006 17:00:37 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth302 whom he had enquired as to the fate of his beloved. He was told that her footsteps had been erased, her traces had disappeared. 37 Levin has shown the importance of the Jahiliya’s set of poetic conven-- tions for the Hebrew poetry of the eleventh-twelfth centuries, particularly in those well established staples of critical attention: Shemuel ha-Nagid, ibn Gabirol and moses ibn Ezra. Thus, for example, the latter’s elegy on the death of his sister in law “Shavti we-taltale ha-zeman lo shavu,” lines 5-7, include the attention to feet and footsteps; the destroyed dwellings look as though they had never been stepped on by human feet. 38 The more evident point of reference would be Shem Tov’s own Debate between the Scissors and the Pen. 39 Here again, the winter of the small towns –nearer to the Camino de Santiago than to the Mediterranean– seem to be evoked, although the language (Hebrew) is different from the romance of the Proverbios. The maqama-like composition dates to 1345 and may contain a reference to the Proverbios Morales project or, at least, to the future project of a vernacular composition. The anthropomorphic qualities of the pen are the subject of dilatio in one section (lines 33ff); the pen, in line 49, “runs before him” [i.e. before its master, the writer/ author]; in line 52, it “girdles” its loins to run in order to fulfill the au-- thor’s mission/errand; in line 54, writing is the footprint, trace (or what is left after) the running of the Ethiopian/black man through the white page (gilayion). It could be understood as implying that writing –i.e. literary creativity and culture– would be the “footprint” –on the parchment– of these “feet” of the pen. It must be admitted that the image is not as clear and prominent as in other medieval Hebrew texts such as the so called 37 see also e. garcía gómez Todo ben Quzman (Madrid 1972), Tomo II, zéjel no. 147: “Poema de la vejez y los cuervos” (pp. 26ff.); “... no queda nada en pie de aquella casa... partióse de ella quien / sonó su hora y hoy es un “liso hondón”... / su amigo quien perdió / que bien espera? / lo que hace es recorrer llorando el rastro...” 38 see, for example, i. levin, “The Waiting over the Desolate Habitations and the Wandering Night-Vision” (Hebrew), Tarbiz 36 (1967) pp. 278ff; id., The Embroidered Coat (Hebrew) (tel aviv 1995) pp. 9ff; d. pagis, Shire ha-Hol we-Torat ha-Shir le- Moshe ibn Ezra u-bene Doro (Jerusalem 1970), pp. 157ff. 39 Shem Tob ibn ardutiel, Maaseh ha-rav (ed. y. nini and m. fruchtman) (tel aviv 1980); f. díaz esteban, “El ‘Debate del Cálamo y las Tijeras’, de Sem tob ardutiel, don santo de carrión”, Revista de la Universidad de Madrid 18 [69] (1969), pp. 61-102. Sefarad II.indb 302 15/12/2006 17:00:38 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 303 Story of Mishal. 40 Nevertheless, the central question –the opposition soli-- tude/company– is amply treated in the Debate. The fuella left by Shem Tov’s first guest on departing is not that of the abandoned camp, or the footprint of the absent beloved. It seems to take that for granted and draws on it for effect. It is rather an example of the attention to the small, microscopic detail which it shares with its he-- roic antecessors. The fuella is not erased by the corrosive effects of that ubiquitous theme of Arabic and Hebrew poetry (zeman) time, fortune, World. Rather, it is the act of repetition, the arrival of the second bore, which replaces Time’s destructive erasure of footprints. If the erasure of footsteps in the Jahiliya and later derivates functions as trigger for poetry and nostalgia, the erasure of footsteps here functions as trigger for a poetry of dismay at impending derivation, repetition, tedium/ fastid-- ium, ennui. Needless to say, Shem Tov is not an Abu Nuwas (d. c. 810) who ridiculed the custom of addressing the deserted encampments and of glorifying antiquity: “Let Time efface what was once so fresh...” 41 The aptness of the Jahiliya is not the main concern of the fourteenth century romance poet from old castile. But he raises the question of some consciousness of the apparent re-- petitiveness and conventionalism of the very act of writing traditional poetry at this date. Even more pertinent in someone who so constantly seems to rework hoary, millennium old saws and other such derivative materials would be the question of the attitude to the apparently indis-- criminate collection of any old sayings, i.e. to the wisdom collections. If that were the case, Shem Tov’s turning towards the modern language or “language of the future” would be a coherent outcome of his earlier ef-- forts in Hebrew. Whatever his answer, it is not that of ignoring, erasing or destroying tradition but rather of approaching it on another level. At this other level, the footprint (fuella) is iconic, also, of items of material reality observed, collected and successfully integrated into a language highly charged with abstract nouns and verbs, as one would expect given the wisdom genre. The guest-host relation, by then more than a millennium old, is undoubtedly a theme in the Proverbios as it was in Ben Sira. As in the Choice of Pearls, or as in the MishleArav, the 40 Z. malachi, “Mavo le-sippur Mishal,” Mahut 8-9 (1991-92), pp. 50ff. 41 nicholson, Literary History of the Arabs, p. 286. Sefarad II.indb 303 15/12/2006 17:00:38 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth304 precise problem is that of having to listen to the pesado’s talk: “Escuchar su parlar” (531). The “querria ser sordo / antes quel entender” (559) is a tenaciously repeated phrase of pesado wisdom. But here there is a place, a temperature and a visual effect: “Tras mi fuego” (531). The line “el suelo del cabdal” (535) evokes for Díaz Mas-Mota the precise place where the money for buying victuals for the guests is kept: an ark or chest with money and its bottom. Even without exploring the resonances to the “Raquel e Vidas” episode (ll. 114ff.: “Tiene dos arcas llennas de oro esmerado. / Ya lo veedes que el rey le a ayrado…),” one can add the possible “Castilianism” or realism of the implied arcas (or arcones). in the same direction we find the çeuada (536); aparejo (537); calle (537); paja, vino (538); mendrugo (546); çenteno (546); albarda (548); they are elements of this “Old Castile effect” no less than the azor and his nido. In the pesado section, there are brief, but significant, cameo appear-- ances by two characters: The wife and the servant. The wife is mentioned as someone from whom he keeps a secret and he is anxious lest she find out. If she knew that he is out in the street, in town (“por villa”) trying to find “buen aparejo” for the pesado’s horse, she would have a fight (“rrenzilla” l. 539). Shem Tov’s narrator, then, is preoccupied with avoid-- ing fights with his wife at home and introduces her as a non idealized character in the poetic narrative. The servant, again, is constructed as part of the family, he is part of “los de mi compana”, someone who is pre-- pared to share the variations in the family fortune (“oras mal, oras bien” l. 545). The servant constructed in the romance text contrasts with the old Roman comedy types, he is someone who is prepared to eat a “men-- drugo” of “çenteno”, evidently cheaper fare, and thus share in the house-- hold’s straits. That is why Shem Tov/the first person narrator, in grateful recognition, is willing to rise early to buy him “pan bueno” (l. 546). The protagonism of the servant in the literature of ensuing centuries might be recalled. This kind of investment in the creation of types/characters such as “the wife” or “the loyal servant” and to the relationship between first person narrator and the characters is part of the general originality of the section which uses the old materials but turns them into something almost unrecognizably new. These proto-characters are embedded in a prosodically unified and sustained composition. It is unified also by the philosophical quest which is its aim: to locate the elusive ethical golden mean. The question becomes significant if we bear in mind the difficulties Sefarad II.indb 304 15/12/2006 17:00:39 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 305 in balancing diverse cultural traditions, universalism and localism in the literary criticism of this Castilian poet. It is methodologically emblematic of other, similar thematic issues in the Proverbios morales. They too may need further research 42 as links in thematic chains which are creatively reworked in medieval iberia. We cannot, here, follow the pesado into modernity. Nevertheless, by way of epilogue, two possibilities may be briefly touched on. The first is the existence of a peninsular fifteenth century Nachleben and the second is the extrapeninsular sixteenth century fortuna. In the first case we may recall a text of 1438, the Corbacho. best re-- membered for its mimesis of living speech, it contains a paragraph which purports to be the speech of a woman. Pyensa byen, amigo, que caldo de rraposa es, que paresce frio e que-- ma; que ella byen ama e quema de fuego de amor en si dentro, mas encubrelo, porque, sy lo demostrase, luego pyensa que seria poco presciada; e por tanto quiere rrogar e ser rrogada en todas las cosas, dando a entender que forçada lo faze, que non ha voluntad, diziendo: “¡Yuy! ¡Dexadme! ¡Non quiero! ¡Yuy! ¡Que porfiado! ¡En buena fe yo me vaya! ¡Por Dios, pues, yo de bozes...! ¡Dexadme agora estar! ¡Estad un poco quedo! ¡Ya, por Dios, non seades enojoso! … ¡En buena fe yo vos muerda las manos…! ¡Libreme Dios deste demono...! ¡O, como soys pesado! 43 The second avenue is the possibility of a sixteenth century elabora-- tion of the notion of tedium in Hispano-Jewish cultures. The text which concerns us is that of the “Dedication” of the last volume of the Centuriae 42 l. stein, Untersuchungen über die Proverbios Morales von Santob de Carrion: mit besonderem Hinweis auf die Quellen and Parallelen (berlin 1900), is commonly be-- lieved to be a typical example of Quellenforschung. Since there have been very few com-- parable attempts at source work, Stein has acquired by the sheer weight of tradition, a kind of canonical status. Upon closer acquaintance, it becomes clear that it offers what, at best, might be termed analogues. Thus, his materials on two or three of the PM’s verses on the pesado, invariably deal with diffuse, vaguely negative concepts such as “bad neighbour” or “thor” (-silly). The passages from the Pantchatantra, Honein, Bocados are, therefore, less than relevant. This is surprising because, as he cites the Choice of Pearls so frequent-- ly, he must have realized that there was a chapter devoted to the kaved specifically rather than to those vague concepts. 43 alfonso martínez de toledo, Corbacho (ed. m. ciceri) (madrid 1990), p. 225. Sefarad II.indb 305 15/12/2006 17:00:40 sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 eleazar gutwirth306 of Amatus Lusitanus. The dedication of Amatus’ Seventh Century is ad-- dressed to Gedalyah Yahia and signed in Salonika in August 1561. 44 He begins by asserting that, upon arriving in Salonika, he had thought of discontinuing his magnum opus because of tedium ([fol. 1] … huius inscriptionis me pertaesur iam erat...). He contrasts this with the variety and abundance of its population. He links sixteenth century Salonika with ancient Greece and asserts that it suffers from diseases as did its ancient counterpart. The Salonikan experience is thus presented not in terms of “problem” or “integration” or “ingathering of exiles” but, rather, it is pre-- sented from the perspective of the revival of interest in ancient Greece and Rome, for example, whose texts Amatus had been citing throughout the preceding six hundred cures. He asserts that the complexity of its illnesses has given rise to its extraordinary physicians. The illnesses are compared to other difficulties or challenges which give rise to greater skill. To this effect he adduces the case of birds in areas with less light, which are prized above others. He draws on the Latin poetry of Manilius [Marcus], the first century poet, and Virgil to prove his point. Physicians in Greece have to be illustrious, as was the case with Hippocrates. He de-- cided to dedicate the cures to Gedalyah Yahia because he is a sage and an egregious orator endowed with acute intelligence. In addition, Yahia is re-- nowned for his hospitality to all persecuted/itinerant no matter what their religious confession. In this, he emulates his father, Moses Yahia, who, in the recent plague (1559?), spent thousands of ducats to help cure the poor and bury them. Of interest is his assertion that he hopes that Gedalyah will find, in the cures, reasons for laughter and weeping, corresponding to the human condition. To find reasons for laughter and weeping has been the motivation for creation in fields other than clinical medicine. The link with affect, literature, mainstream culture is clear. It is Amatus himself who draws attention to the writerly, textual, literary quality of his enter-- 44 That is to say, that it appears to contain cases prior to that date and later than the signature date of the previous volume (1559). His Curationum Medicinalium Centuriæ Septem passed through a number of editions (Florence 1551; Venice 1552, 1557, 1560 and 1653; basel 1556; leyden 1560 and 1570; Paris 1620; bordeaux 1620; barcelona 1628, and others). References here are to the Sexagesimo of lyons: amati lusitani... Curationum medicinalium centuria septima (G. Rouillium: lugduni, 1570). see e. gutwirth, “Amatus Lusitanus and the Locations of Sixteenth Century Cultures,” in ed. d. ruderman et al., Cultural Intermediaries: Jewish Intellectuals in Early Modern Italy-Jewish Culture and Contexts (Philadelphia 2004), pp. 216-238. Sefarad II.indb 306 15/12/2006 17:00:40 peSadoS: hospitality, tedium... sefarad, vol. 66: 2, julio-diciembre 2006, págs. 285-308. ISSN 0037-0894 307 prise. He searches in Salonika for the novelty, the unexpected analogy –ancient and modern physicians, Hippocrates and Amatus or physicians as polar birds–, for the right quotation from Virgil or other school texts. He is the arbiter who values universalism, oratory, intelligence no less than philanthropy. Above all, it is he who constructs the opposition be-- tween tedium and salonika. as tedium (and fastidium) is a concept which affects most arts and creativity itself, the implications are not obscure. The Salonikan physician presents himself not only as an authority on the body, but also as authority or arbiter on the arts and culture. Resumen La transmisión, la traducción y la recreación de ideas de la Antigüedad son un aspecto de la cultura hispano-judía medieval que ha sido aceptada generalmente en las historias de la filosofía, la ciencia, la literatura o la religión. En algunos casos, los eslabones en la cadena de transmisión han sido relativamente bien documentados. En otros, es preciso aún sustanciar ciertas hipótesis de continuidad. Entre ambos extremos se sitúa una amplia gama de posibilidades y diferentes niveles de investigación. en este artículo se muestra que una cadena de transmisión funciona en el campo de la literatura sapiencial, como puede observarse en un caso preciso, el del desarrollo del tema del pesado. Palabras clave: Santó de Carrión, cultura hispano-judía medieval, poesía, transmisión y transformación de motivos literarios. summaRy The transmission, translation and recreation of ancient and medieval ideas are one aspect of Hispano-Jewish Culture which is generally accepted in histories of philosophy, science, literature, religion. In some cases the “links” (Greek, Syriac, Arabic, Hebrew, Romance, etc.) in this chain of transmission are relatively well documented. In others the evidence to substantiate hypotheses of continuity is yet to be discovered. In between these poles there is a range of possibilities and different states of research. In the following lines an attempt will be made to argue that there is such a chain operating in the fields of wisdom and literature (metered poetry, rhymed prose). This can be observed in a precise case: That of the development of the theme of the pesado. Keywords: Shem Tov de Carrión, Medieval Hispano-Jewish Culture, Poetry, Transmission and transformation of literary motifs. Sefarad II.indb 307 15/12/2006 17:00:41 
work_45a6a5ihtbhj5dtwwhdai2kle4	----	Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 121 Next Steps for Measuring Polyphony – A Prototype Editor for Encoding Mensural Music Karen Desmond, Andrew Hankinson, Laurent Pugin, Juliette Regimbal, Craig Sapp, Martha E. Thomae Next Steps for Measuring Polyphony A Prototype Editor for Encoding Mensural Music Karen Desmond, Brandeis University, Andrew Hankinson, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, Laurent Pugin, Répertoire International des Sources Musicales, Juliette Regimbal, McGill University, Craig Sapp, Stanford University, Martha E. Thomae, McGill University Project background Project goals Methods/Approaches Project impact and next steps The Measuring Polyphony Mensural Editor (click to play) The thirteenth and fourteenth centuries saw an unprecedented increase in the production of manuscripts trans- mitting music repertoires with a new diversity of styles, genres, and subject matter, copied in both music-only anthologies, and in miscellaneous collections that interweave song, text, and illuminations. At the same time, techniques for specifically notating rhythmic duration emerged, a notation called “mensural” or “measurable.” Almost all polyphonic music (music composed for two or more parts) from 1300-1600 is notated in mensural no- tation, the rules of which changed little from c. 1350. Yet modern print editions distance today’s readers from the original experience of this music: first, by translating the original notation into modern notation; and second, by sorting and classifying this repertoire according to conventions associated with the printed book (that is, present- ing it in volumes or series ordered by composer, genre, or country), rather than its presentation in the original manuscript. This poster presents an NEH-funded project to develop a prototype editor for encoding mensural notation (PI: Karen Desmond, Brandeis University). It builds on the Measuring Polyphony project (measuringpolyphony.org), a website that presents digitisations of polyphonic motets copied in late medieval manuscripts in mensural nota- tion. Coding of the editor prototype began in January 2020, and a workshop directly before the 2020 Music En- coding Conference evaluated the prototype in terms of its interface and design, accessibility, and interoperability, and advised on a plan for the project’s full implementation. This poster includes links to videos that outline the main functionality of the prototype and a summary of the project goals, impact, and next stages of development. Load a Manuscript into the manuscript viewer The support of the National Endowment for the Human- ities and Brandeis Universi- ty is gratefully acknowl- edged. An online mensural music editor will allow a variety of modern readers (students and experts, musicologists, music theorists, those interested in the history of music notation, the history of counterpoint, medieval palaeogra- phy or manuscript studies in general) to both access and contribute transcriptions of polyphonic music directly linked to digital images of the medieval manuscripts. The GUI prototype will allow users with no expertise in music encoding to encode large amounts of music data in mensural notation directly linked to digital images of the medieval manuscripts, thereby rapidly increasing medieval music repertoires available for study. Currently there is no editor, either commercially available or available as an open-source web application, that allows users to notate music in its mensural form. This is a significant problem in general for scholars of early music. In order to produce music examples in mensural notation to include in publications, for example, images must be generated within graphics software such as Adobe Illustrator, a time-consuming and non-intuitive pro- cess. Graphics software cannot capture any data about the music’s sounding aspects, that is, what the graph- emes mean in terms of their pitch and duration. This project addresses this need through the development of an open-source web-based editor designed to capture the shapes and the meaning of the mensural notation, follow- ing the encoding standards developed by the Music Encoding Initiative. Help videos (click to play) One envisioned outcome of the next stages of this project is the development of pedagogical modules in which students could learn about medieval notations: perhaps eventually providing a collective space to work on collaborative editions directly from, and linked to, the manuscript images. One pressing research question is whether the MEI data that captures the graphic infor- mation on the note shapes should be formally separated from the data necessary for score alignment and audio rendering. In some cases, the interpretation of the mensural shapes has only one correct answer, and follows specific rules established for mensural notation. But in other cases, the interpretation may be dependent on notational dialects used in a particular geo- graphic location, or on a particular scribal practice, or the interpretation may be unclear. Methods by which these “flavors” of notation might be abstracted in our data model and captured via the editor were discussed in the pre-MEC workshop. The major music editing projects of the twentieth century divorced the musical text from its parchment and ink origins, segre- gating them into composer- and genre-ordered print collections, converting their notation to modern equivalents, and secreting away detailed philological considerations into cryptic appendices. Since the late 1990s, the availability of high-resolution images of most manuscript sources of medieval polyphony, in particular through the groundbreaking open-access DIAMM ini- tiative (Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music, diamm.ac.uk) and through library-based repositories such as Gallica (galli- ca.bnf.fr), has prompted new investigations of medieval music within its original material contexts, as is also the case within medieval studies in general (the “new” philology). It is envisioned that the final implementation of this project will allow experts and non-experts to move seamlessly between manuscript image and hear audio realizations of the compositions found there (for projects that do similar things, but which are focused on text rather than music, see the projects French Renaissance Pale- ography, paleography.library.utoronto.ca and Digipal, digipal.eu). Users will learn how to directly contribute transcriptions of the hundreds of as yet unedited (or poorly edited) pieces, facilitating new corpus studies of musical style. In addition, since the mensural notation will be digitally encoded, this project will inform new understandings of regional and scribal notational prac- tices, and how changes in notation and representation engender changes in musical style. Software and standards leveraged in this project measuringpolyphony.github.io/mp_editor Enter some basic metadata Define staves by drawing around them Enter the pitches and rhythmic values Add ligatures while adding pitches Enter underlaid text Add a repeating tenor Add a more complex repeating tenor Save your work as you go Score up the parts and make corrections Simple editing of the score Downloading the MEI files humdrum.org https://hcommons.org/members/kdesmond/ http://measuringpolyphony.github.io/mp_editor https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPHmlrp-yOE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5QG1KVH-KE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fSiHQHZKuw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxPZE_i4eLc https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7z0FsgZAfs https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5t42u8cyRA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41Q2FVtMZBk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEUwxFN3BHA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_kykd2jgyw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zv9FyxPp9js https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiUz-sHzxlM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYj0ks2BzIc https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1uinKqSoEk 122 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 123 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1uinKqSoEk http://measuringpolyphony.github.io/mp_editor 124 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPHmlrp-yOE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5QG1KVH-KE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fSiHQHZKuw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxPZE_i4eLc https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5t42u8cyRA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7z0FsgZAfs https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41Q2FVtMZBk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEUwxFN3BHA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_kykd2jgyw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zv9FyxPp9js https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiUz-sHzxlM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYj0ks2BzIc 
work_4ar4z3a37bdrdeb3wlfpzroxqa	----	Microsoft Word - Freeman - THC - Monstrum 2.docx MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 Grotesque Realism and the Carnivalesque in Tom Six’s T h e H u m a n C e n t i p e d e ( F i r s t S e q u e n c e ) and T h e H u m a n C e n t i p e d e I I ( F u l l S e q u e n c e ) Ellen N. Freeman “Feed her! Feed her!” screams Dr. Heiter, mad surgeon and villain of Tom Six’s 2009 film The Human Centipede (First Sequence). Three captured and tortured subjects have been conjoined anus-to-mouth to share a single gastrointestinal tract, creating Dr. Heiter’s magnum opus of surgical ability: his fantastical ‘Human Centipede’. The ‘mouth’ and leading vassal of Dr. Heiter’s ‘Human Centipede’ swears in Japanese while his natural bodily functions defy him for the first time since becoming conjoined in this twisted and abject carnival tale, and he involuntarily defecates into the mouth of the subject behind him. This is the scene for which many audience members wait in expectation: the pooping, the suffocation, the gagging; this becomes a source of imminent gratification in The Human Centipede franchise. The gruesome act of defecating into a subject’s mouth is hardly Tom Six’s creation, however. This paper will explore similar intimations in François Rabelais’ novel series The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel (1532-1564), as discussed by philosopher Mikhail Bakhtin in his book Rabelais and his World (1965), to highlight the ways in which crude, scatological horror and humour have been censored and celebrated for centuries. In her foreword to the 1984 version of Bakhtin’s Rabelais and His World, Krystyna Pomorska writes: “Bakhtin claims that life itself (traditionally considered ‘content’) is organized by human acts of behaviour and cognition […] and is therefore already charged with a system of values at the moment it enters into an artistic structure” (1984: viii). At the core, Bakhtin claims that the human condition, and thus the art created by humanity, is considerably solidified by common behavioural patterns and ____________________ Ellen Freeman holds an MA in Film Studies from Concordia University where she specialized in the psychological and sociological functions of horror audiences like herself. In 2018, she conducted a three-week course entitled "Shock Horror: The Human Centipede Trilogy" with the Montreal Monstrum Society, and again in 2019 on The Twilight Zone: The Movie as part of their "A Year in Horror: 1983" series. Currently, Freeman’s research focuses on horror-fan receptions of cult, shock and exploitation cinema. MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 35 cognitive archetypes. The idea that observation is linked both to the creator(s) of the film and to its audience figure into the ways that Danish film director Tom Six’s The Human Centipede (First Sequence) (2009; see Figure 1 below) and its sequel, The Human Centipede II (Full Sequence) (2012), can be conceived as a cinematic practice of Bakhtin’s semiotic study of cognition, behaviour, and mischief, as well as his theories on the tradition of carnival culture, and the carnivalesque embrace of the grotesque. The Human Centipede films (THC and THC II from here, onward) operate within a satirical narrative that showcases elements of grotesque realism and are meant to be enjoyed in their evocation of carnivalesque excess. Nevertheless, among the visual and auditory—and perhaps phenomenologically olfactory, or gustatory—senses, Tom Six’s first two Human Centipede films—although more so regarding THC II—develop characters whose actions, situations, and reactions create affect. THC and THC II have been actively censored by film censorship boards across the world because of their “violent and pornographic” visual representations, yet Six’s portrayal of his characters—an emotionally and intellectually disabled man, a pedophilic psychiatrist, an abusive mother, and a megalomaniacal, obsessed, mad-scientist surgeon—is equally disregarded as petty and insensitive (BBFC, 2011). THC and THC II highlight the notion that graphic Figure 1: The Human Centipede (First Sequence) MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 36 entertainment intended to be amoral—that is, to hold our culture up to its often misguided, constrictive values by means of satire—is still heavily censored as immoral by reactionary tastemakers in popular culture, part of a history of moral superiority (and panic) that seems destined forever to repeat itself. This essay thus explores how ‘abhorrent’ entertainment can be fulfilling, comedic, participatory, and critical of paradoxical morals and mores—and why, after centuries, this form of participation in the overturning of the so- called respectable continues to be alluring. For all their ostensibly base and exploitative content, Six’s first two Human Centipede films rub their spectators’ noses in the contradictions of sanctioned morality.1 T h e L i f e o f G a r g a n t u a a n d P a n t a g r u e l Mikhail Bakhtin’s classic of Renaissance studies Rabelais and His World, finished in 1940 but published in 1965 due to decades-long opposition and informal censorship by the Soviet authorities, explores the immediate reception of the stigmatized novel series by French renaissance writer Francois Rabelais The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel, written and published from 1532- 1564. The ethos of The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel is found in the author’s prologue. Rabelais states: “Most illustrious Drinkers and you, most precious Syphilitics, for it is to you, not to others, that my writings are dedicated” (1946: 47, original capitalization). It is clear that Rabelais had no intentions of winning over high-class readers with his stories, and instead wrote these tales specifically for the hedonistic, rude, and boisterous. The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel is a series of five novels that tell of the adventures of two giants, Gargantua and his son Pantagruel. Written in an amusing tone, the stories of Gargantua and Pantagruel are extravagant and satirical and feature an abundance of crude, scatological humour and violence, which was quite controversial for 16th Century literature. In the socio-political conditions of increased religious oppression in the period leading up to The French Wars between Roman Catholics and Calvinist Protestants, the Collège de la Sorbonne censored these ‘obscene’ novels; thus, The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel, fully equipped with wordplay and risqué humor, were treated with varying levels of reluctance and suspicion as “‘too excessive and too eccentric’” (Putnam, 1946: 3). In fact, François Rabelais’ “gross robust humour, extravagance of caricature, and bold naturalism” is now marked by the literary term Rabelaisian (Merriam-Webster). The philosophy and spirit of these novels, according to Rabelais, focuses on what we can refer MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 37 to as ‘Pantagruelism’, deeply entrenched in “‘a moral doctrine that implies a constant elevation and breadth of soul,’ or, in the Maître’s own words: ‘a certain cheerfulness of disposition preserved in spite of fortuitous circumstances’” (Putnam, 1946: 37). To be good ‘Pantagruelists’ folks must “live in peace, happiness, and good health, enjoying yourselves always, [and to] never put any faith in such folks as that, who look out upon the world through a peephole” (Putnam, 1946, 365). Although most chapters of Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel are wildly fantastic and absurd, a few relatively serious passages have become famous for expressing humanistic ideals of the time, and for mocking and challenging bureaucratic behaviour. For instance, one passage states, DO WHAT THOU WOULDST for the reason that those who are free born and well born, well brought up, and used to decent society possess, by nature, a certain instinct and spur, which always impels them to virtuous deeds and restraints [sic] them from vice, an instinct which is the thing called honor. These same ones, when, through vile subjection and constraint, they are repressed and held down, proceed to employ that same noble inclination to virtue in throwing off and breaking the yoke of servitude, for we always want to come to forbidden things; and we always desire that which is denied us. (Rabelais, [1534], Putnam, 1946: 214, original capitalization). Rabelais describes Gargantua, Pantagruel, and their community as free from societal restraints—and virtuous in their fun, and honest lifestyles, their celebration of ‘that which is denied us’—as a commentary on the opposing religious oppressions and censors that rule art and ideology during this period. Bakhtin argues that, for centuries, The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel had been misunderstood, and wrongly censored. In his Rabelais and His World, Bakhtin attempts to ease this misunderstanding by studying two important subtexts: carnival (the carnivalesque) and grotesque realism, both discussed in more detail below. Rabelais’ Pantagruelism aligns with the aesthetic intentions of THC director Tom Six. In two different interviews, Six explains his intentions for the films. The first, he calls “a dark, dark comedy. It’s very over the top and silly, but also explores a darkness in humanity” (Hanley, 2015: n.p.). In regards to the entire franchise, he says, “I really took it to extremes the second time for the audience. […] I can’t imagine anyone will see part two [or three] and take it seriously anymore. It’s such an extreme attraction that it becomes really MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 38 over-the-top” (Barone, 2011: n.p.). Like Bakhtin, Tom Six has often spoken out about the absurdities of art censorship. In an interview with Charlie Nash, Six declares: “I believe in movies that bite, burn, shock, hurt, and are unconventional. Where a filmmaker is still a warrior fighting the mediocrity. I want audience to smell the dirty laundry. Nobody is forced to see a movie. Give audiences their own choice to watch it or not” (2017, n.p.). Tom Six, it seems, wrote these films to parody not only horror fans and the genre’s ostensibly over-simplified and over-produced conventions, but to poke fun at those offended by the humour that lingers beneath the filth. He confesses that his need to create a second, and third film—both of which, arguably, are aggressively more ‘shocking’ than the first—was for the satisfaction of an audience that, he suggests, ‘desires that which is denied them’. Behaviour and the Senses The term “behaviour,” as discussed by Raymond Williams, has been developed under the study of semiotics and cognitive thought, ranging from neutral positions to moral definitions contingent to one’s worldview (1983: 43). The term “behaviour” signifies a reaction to a specific circumstance. Williams also understands the term in relation to ethics (morality), as a way in which subjects behave according to social law—that is, the marking of one’s “dignified sense of public conduct” (1983: 43). Williams’ definition sheds light on the evolution of the term within psychology as, collectively, “mimicry,” the “science of ethics”, and the “science of character” (1983: 44). In a reading of the Human Centipede films, however, his use of the term “experimental” in discussion of controlled and measured conditions of behavioural observation can be situated nicely to the film’s narrative, which details the medical experiments and post-experiment observations of German Dr. Josef Heiter (Dieter Laser) upon a group of three tourists (two American, another Japanese). The film’s premise begins when the two American tourists become stranded in the dark forests of Germany after their car breaks down. They find a house amongst the trees and are invited in by homeowner Dr. Heiter, who offers them water, food, and a telephone to call a mechanic. His décor is uniquely carnivalesque; he has wall-to-wall photos of Siamese twin babies and dogs plastered on his wall in an artistic fashion, signifying the doctor's pride in his previous work of separating subjects who appear impossible to separate (See Figure 2 below). MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 39 The American women trust Heiter to call the mechanic, but when they realize their drinks have been drugged with powerful sedatives, the doctor’s newest medical obsession is revealed: he will attempt to conjoin those who are not meant to be conjoined. Dr. Heiter, having respectfully earned the title of “doctor” from what we assume is years in the medical field, proposes to his subjects and the film’s audience a “100% medically accurate” bodily experiment that aspires to attach three subjects mouth-to-anus in order to create one digestive system—a “Siamese Triplet”, or rather, a “human centipede.” Dr. Heiter observes his subjects’ behaviour within a “controlled” system, or what Bennett, Grossberg, and Morris call “systems behaviour” (2013: 11). This behaviour of observing ‘systems’ is linked more directly to machines, or biological systems – a controlled science, as medical procedures often are (Bennett, Grossberg, and Morris, 2013: ch. B). Thus, it is clear that, as a scientist, Dr. Heiter is interested in studying the “manner in which a thing acts under specified circumstances or in relation to other things” (Bennett, Grossberg, and Morris, 2013: 11-12). Similar to passages found in The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel, as discussed by Bakhtin, THC depicts death and birth as both ultimately humiliating. “Birth” in this instance refers to the creation of Dr. Heiter’s centipede, but also as stemming from his enthrallment with Siamese twin Figure 2: Dr. Heiter (Dieter Laser) and his thematically suggestive décor in The Human Centipede (First Sequence) MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 40 babies and their survival. “Death,” of course, is the impending demise of his creature creation (and possibly, the demise of our characters’ former selves); if you thought this movie ended happily, think again. On the generation of amusement from such abject (and in the case of death, dire) bodily circumstances, Bakhtin writes: The images of feces and urine are ambivalent, as are all the images of the material bodily lower stratum; they debase, destroy, regenerate, and renew simultaneously. When death and birth are shown in their comic aspect, scatological images in various forms nearly always accompany the gay monsters [me, you, horror audiences] created by laughter in order to replace the terror that has been defeated. (Bakhtin, 1984: 151). While the idea of laughter ‘replacing’ terror applies to Heiter and his absurdly awful experiments, Bakhtin’s intentions in the above statement are more situated in the study of audience engagement, or cognitive and behavioural reaction to, a film or piece of literature. As I mentioned above, THC concerns the bodily experiments and post-experimental observation of the mental and physical “systematic behaviour” of three involuntary subjects. Likewise, THC and THC II depend on the behavioural reactions and cognitive responses from their audience. This intention is made obvious in a scene in THC where Heiter takes a moment to demonstrate his surgical intentions to his medical victims using a (hilariously unsophisticated) overhead projector, whiteboard, and pointer (See Figure 3). Figure 3: The demonstration by overhead projector in The Human Centipede (First Sequence) MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 41 There are two audiences implicated in this direct-address telegraphing of the dreadful experiment to come: the victims, and the audience, both of whom are left to feel the tension of knowing what they will eventually feel (the victims) or be forced to witness and sense (the audience). “Tactile, kinetic, redolent, resonant, and sometimes even taste-full” is how Vivian Sobchack defines the phenomenological, “cinesthetic”—and in this case, carnival, participatory— experience of cinema (2004: 54). In her essay “What my Fingers Knew: The Cinesthetic Subject, or Vision in the Flesh,” Sobchack attempts to understand the meaningful relation between cinema and our sensate bodies in relation to contemporary film theory (2004: 54-55). Tom Six, like Rabelais, is working towards the same goals of “unmasking” the presumed behavioural acts of “public conduct,” and forcing an audience to indulge open-mindedly with the discomfort of their entertainment, and with healthy observation. Sobchack would agree; she writes that scholarly interest has been focused less on the capacity of films to physically around us to meaning than on what such sensory cinematic appeal reveals about the rise and fall of classical narrative, or the contemporary transmedia structure of the entertainment industry, or the desires of our culture for the distractions of immediate sensory immersion in an age of pervasive mediation” (2004: 57). In sum, both Sobchack and Six would acknowledge that we must regard horror cinema and THC films as welcoming the cooperation of our senses, and of unruly, sensory responses. Audiences have behaved in a reflexive and phenomenological way to the content of the THC, which serves to “confront and discomfort the audience,” a behavioural reaction that was anticipated and welcomed by director Tom Six (Och and Strayer, 2013: 171). In keeping with the definitions of Raymond Williams, a study of audience behaviour towards the film would be linked to the interaction with their environment, “specialized to ‘stimulus’ and ‘response’” (1983: 44), a type of interaction with a text that allows for bodily engagement, rather than immediate dismissal. This bodily, or embodied engagement is like the experience of attractions—the sensation of a rollercoaster ride rather than absorption in the narrative. The linked bodies in the films might be understood as mimicking how the audience is bodily linked to the materiality of the medium. The audience is thrust into the lower stratum of the films, sensually mimicking the bodies there. MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 42 Carnivals of the Lower Stratum While the central premise of these films may be linked to genres that have deprecatingly been called “torture porn”2 or “goreno” they are also situated, depending largely on the theoretical lens, within carnival expressions of humour and satire, linking the trilogy as a whole with Bakhtin’s behavioural and cognitive understanding of the principals of carnivalesque within Rabelaisian writings. “Carnival,” “a rowdy [European] tradition” is derivative of festivals and theater that has a counter-cultural reputation for misbehaviour, where “lampooning liberty is allowed, and scandal so highly exalted [… as to] upend conventional social decorum” (Stam, Goldsmith, and Porton, 2015: 69). Linked to the concept of behavioural studies, Bakhtin uses Rabelais and his definition of carnivalesque to depict “utopian jouissance, the celebration of the bodily lower stratum, and free and familiar contact […] that rejects formal harmony and unity in favour of the asymmetrical, the heterogeneous, and the miscegenated” (Stam, Goldsmith, and Porton, 2015: 69). My use of this definition here is not meant to suggest that the participants in Dr. Heiter’s experiments are filled with “utopian jouissance” at their transformation, but that the Human Centipede films’ audiences, (while most appear to be uncomfortable or offended), are entertained by way of a ‘carnival’ experience (at least part of which involves delighting in seeing others offended). Mikhail Bakhtin’s book is considerably interested in Russian folk culture and its place amongst the satirical literature of Rabelais; more specifically, Bakhtin positions folk culture as a binary of “high culture” (Pomorska, 1984: xi). Bakhtin has linked behavioural studies with his theories of laughter and carnivalesque, which he describes to have a purposeful sense of “heterglossia” (Pomorska, 1984: x). Krystyna Pomorska notes in her Foreword to Rabelais and His World that Bakhtin’s theories observe carnivalization as “the conditions for the ultimate ‘structure of life’, that is formed by ‘behaviour and cognition’” (x). Bakhtin makes an important shift to sound as a dominant sense, emphasizing auditory exaggeration and enunciation over the sense of sight. Rabelais frequently lists the dynamic characteristics of the body’s elimination during birth and death, and writes “a man could belch, fart, poop, piddle, shit, sneeze, sob, cough, throw up, yawn, puff, inhale, exhale, snore, snort, sweat, and wangle the ferrule to his heart's content” (Bakhtin, 1984: 358). In this instance, the spirit of carnival penetrates the sound and language of Gargantua and Pantagruel, yet it is “laughter [that] penetrates the highest forms of religious cult and thought” (Bakhtin, 1984: 13), and “laughter was seen as man’s highest spiritual privilege, inaccessible to other creatures” (Bakhtin, 1984: 68). In this MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 43 context, embodied enunciation and production is as transgressive, if not more so than, articulate speech. According to Bakhtin, “carnival,” or “folk” culture—oftentimes referred to in contemporary cinema and popular culture studies as “cult”—are “comic cults which laughed and scoffed at the deity; coupled with serious myths were comic and abusive ones; coupled with heroes were their parodies and doublets” (Pomorska, 1984: 6). Films like THC are filled with “sacred/profane time-out[s] for imaginative play and alternative cosmovisions” that give expression to “the people’s second life,” and are used to transgress rationalism and ethical behaviour patterns (Stam, Goldsmith, and Porton: 2015, 69). Those who have a perverse sense of humour like Rabelais will undoubtedly see Six’s attempt to compose satirical and carnivalesque subject matter alongside the scatological plot. The sinister, yet comical parody of the “mad scientist” caricature is hard to miss. Any number of examples come to mind, for example in THC, the image of Heiter’s three post-surgical patients getting an airing on the lawn as they crawl around in a mouth-to-anus chain at Heiter’s direction, or in THC II, the wannabe mad scientist / crazy fan, Martin Lomax’s, administering a laxative to produce a more extreme effect out of his experiment. The implication of such moments in both films seems to be that the experiment is not enough; what the scientist really wants is abject spectacle. Mouth-to-Film: Grotesque Attractions If carnivalesque is enjoyed through a transformation of behaviour and liberation from the “prevailing order,” then the “grotesque” body, a term used in relation to Bakhtin’s study of carnival, deals with bodily transformation. The film, and Rabelais’ novels, undoubtedly relate to Mary Shelley’s novel Frankenstein; or The Modern Prometheus (1818), and its titular “mad” scientist’s “secret toil” with “profane fingers” in a “workshop of filthy creation” (1996: 32)—“filthy” here referring to both the scientist’s gore-soaked laboratory as well as his suspect (“secret,” “profane”) ethical choices. Stam, Goldsmith, and Porton define “grotesque realism” as “turning conventional aesthetics on its head in order to locate a new kind of convulsive, rebellious beauty, one that reveals the grotesque of the noble and the latent beauty of the ‘vulgar’” (2015: 69). Like Dr. Victor Frankenstein's monster, referred to by the monster himself as “the Adam of your labors,” Dr. Heiter’s Human Centipede patients detest their maker for violating their bodies and, by extension, the laws of MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 44 nature. Shelley’s novel and Six’s films “confront some of the most feared innovations of evolutionism: mankind’s status as a species of animal” (Butler, 1993, from the book’s back matter), while also stripping the human animal of its so-called superiority over nonhuman animals. If we laugh at the situation created by Shelley’s Victor Frankenstein, it is more over the idiosyncrasies manifested by his obsessive, often oblivious behaviour. But Six’s films are built on the prospect that audiences will find amusement in the absurdly vulgar scenarios he offers. The ability to laugh and be entertained by the ‘vulgar’ allows the audience to grasp a more ‘utopic’ existence, according to Bakhtin. Linking the concept of the “grotesque” body to carnival, Stam, Goldsmith, and Porton believe that it is not, above-all, the subject matter that makes a text satirical, but the emphasis of who is the “butt of the joke” (2015: 70). The example he uses is the ‘Purim Spiel’3 who make fun of Haman the tyrant, not the Jewish Esther, who is inferior to Haman’s tyranny (2015: 70). In THC an audience likely laughs less at the subjects being tortured, and more at the circumstances of the subject’s torture. It is not so much the pain and discomfort of the subject that is funny, in other words, but rather Dr. Heiter himself—it is in his mannerisms and his dialogue that an audience cannot help but see the humour. For example, the first time Dr. Heiter’s Human Centipede “walks”— that is, the first time we see his victims in the designated hands-and-knees position as seen in his picture-book example (Fig. 4)—he is so over-the-moon with joy that the audience almost feels congratulatory of his accomplishment: “He did it! The Centipede can walk!” Heiter is proud of his success and in turn, the audience is—however conflicting the feelings produced—proud for him. He walks around his Centipede flexing, laughing, and taking photos, his subjects all-the-while squirming and crying with discomfort; nevertheless, this is Heiter’s time to shine, and we respect that in part because of his sheer glee. He takes a mirror off the wall and places it in front of his Centipede—a moment simultaneously suggesting and parodying the “mirror stage”4 of their development as a self-aware creature-subject—and Heiter cries along with his Centipede tears of fulfilment, rather than anguish. This scene implies a positive, emotional forthcoming for Dr. Heiter. With the melodramatic string orchestra playing in the background, this scene is ridiculous, and it is exactly the over-the-top ridiculousness of this film that places the moment’s situational comedy above the torment of Heiter’s Human Centipede. Stam, Goldsmith, and Porton recognize a certin comedic “rule” which mandates that “laughing at death” is a theme that can be vulnerable to humorous treatment when examined in this context (2015: 70). MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 45 Bakhtin declares that to be entertained by carnivalesque images is to defy one’s well-established behaviour, and that a certain degree of truth is discovered when one laughs or professes a desire for grotesque or vulgar imagery. As a direct relation to Rabelais, Bakhtin acknowledges a connection between “sexual stimuli together with defecation” that THC also visualizes with the quasi-sexual ass-to-mouth foreplay and the stimulated, erect nipples of the fit, tan, and beautiful American tourists. Of Rabelais’ Fourth Book, Bakhtin argues that to appreciate the grotesque is to communicate wholeheartedly with humanity and truth: At the end [excrement] is described as a tree, something pleasant. And the tirade concludes with an invitation to drink, which in Rabelaisian imagery means to be in communion with truth. Here we find the ambivalent image of excrement, its relation to regeneration and renewal and its special role in overcoming fear. … An heir to grotesque realism he conceived excrement as both joyous and sobering matter, at the same time debasing and tender; it combined the grave and birth in their lightest, most comic, least terrifying form. (1984:175-176) Again, we see an important shift towards the lower senses: smell, taste, and touch. Bakhtin's emphasis on “the feast” or the “drink” in his book and in this passage is a valid observation in terms of the way THC and the literature of Rabelais both rely on celebrations of otherwise abject bodies, collapsing an acute awareness of the body, and of the gruesomeness of birth and death, in a kind of sensorial feast. These links between deviant behaviour and even observable behaviour, the genre of the carnivalesque, and the beauty of the grotesque body, all relate, on some level, to the idea of nonconformity. To enjoy, or to theorize a film that repulses many audiences is to oppose the initial behavioural “mimicry” discussed by Raymond Williams; to participate in carnival is to leave inhibitions behind, citing again what Stam, Goldsmith, and Porton call “formal harmony and unity in favour of the asymmetrical, the heterogeneous, and the miscegenated” (2015: 69). Likewise, to find beauty and worth in grotesque realism is to ignore sacred implications and acknowledge the body as an anatomical living piece of flesh and blood, rather than the privileged vessel of the immortal soul. They “laughed and scoffed at the deity; coupled with serious myths were comic and abusive ones” (Bakhtin, 1984: 6). In this regard, carnivalesque texts uncomfortably mingle the sacred and the profane. MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 46 In Bakhtin’s description of death, “the soul, together with bile, blood, phlegm and flesh, leaves its bodily abode which has grown cold and has already acquired the aspect of death” (1984: 359). Grotesque realism acknowledges that death, discomfort, and biological degradation are all behaviours of the body that every living being must succumb to: “the bodily element […] is presented not in a private, egotistical form, severed from the spheres of all life, but as something universal” (Bakhtin, 1984: 19). Bakhtin’s book, and these passages, support the notion that behaving according to a social rule is egotistical and in favour of a hierarchical type of humanity, which he declares is elusive and unattainable. To discuss the relation between the literature of Rabelais and Tom Six’s THC, and their use of inadequate cognitive archetypes, the amusement of carnival culture, and the appreciation for the grotesque body, is to link the concept of humour in one's own decay as a challenge—and an honest response—to the truth of bourgeois morality. THC concludes with the death of three kidnapped experiment subjects who are surgically conjoined mouth-to-anus, against their will. Two of the subjects, we can assume, die of malnutrition, infection, or bile poisoning, while the other—the first in the chain of bodies—takes his own life after triumphantly escaping maker and captor, Dr. Heiter. Though Heiter is a madman, his attention to detail and his obsession with sterilization, cleanliness, and medical accuracy sets him apart from other villains of the so- called “torture porn” genre (including the villain of THC II), and also from what we have come to envision as a ‘realistic’ murderer. Tom Six successfully places the first film, THC (First Sequence), into the diegetic world of his sequel when he opens The Human Centipede II (Full Sequence) (2011) (THC II) with a point-of-view shot of the 2009 film’s denouement, followed by the closing credits, being watched by the would-be experimenter-villain of the sequel. This film-within-a-film, or mise en abyme, is used by Six to demonstrate the extreme and ultimately unrealistic silliness of the film’s attractions, and the over-the- top inaccuracy (contrary to the tagline “100% Medically Accurate”) of Part I’s plot line, reminding the viewer that the original film remains just a film, albeit perhaps a very real object of grotesque fascination. Linda Williams argues in Film Bodies: Gender, Genre and Excess (1991) that body genres like horror and melodrama encapsulate the notion of excess. Like Vivian Sobchack’s thoughts on the phenomenological sensation experienced by spectators of cinema, Williams agrees that “body genres” “foreground sensational engagement in explicit image and sound content and narrative focus” (Sobchack, 2004: 62). Williams tells us: “we feel manipulated by these texts—an impression that the very colloquialisms of ‘tear jerker’ and ‘fear jerker’ express—and to which we MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 47 could add pornography’s even cruder sense as texts to which some people might be inclined to ‘jerk off’” (1991: 5). Again, Williams argues that audiences mimic emotions in body genres because of our attraction to and appreciation of the spectacle. Tom Gunning, writer of “The Cinema of Attraction[s]: Early Film, its Spectator and the Avant-Garde” ([1990] 2006), discusses our fondness for, and willingness to identify with, the spectacle and the artifice of the attraction, and that while we know that the “magic” is not real, audiences nevertheless feel assaulted and encapsulated by it. Horror and other “body genres” offer “attractive” moments [attractions] that are willing to exhibit and “rupture a self-enclosed fictional world for a chance to solicit the attention of the spectator” (Gunning, [1990] 2006: 382). In this paper, Gunning offers similarities between amusement parks and cinema, carnivals, and film exhibition. He writes, “the cinema of attractions directly solicits spectator attention, inciting visual curiosity, and supplying pleasure through an exciting spectacle—a unique event, whether fictional or documentary, that is of interest in itself” (Gunning, [1990] 2006: 384). Tied directly into the attractions is the kind of direct address (and confrontation) of spectatorial desire that undergirds the Human Centipede films in general, but the first sequel in particular. THC II thrives on the fear of, and desire for, replication of the first film’s grotesque spectacle, providing a compelling re-enacting of Gunning’s theories of exhibitionist cinema. Martin (Laurence R. Harvey), a disturbed recluse, is so inspired by the original Human Centipede film that he decides to replicate its gruesome experiments. That is, his motives are largely tied to recreating the prior film’s attractions for himself as much, if not more than they are to any scientific curiosity. He does this in a way that is in direct contrast with Dr. Heiter’s medically comprehensive method, housing his experiments in a filthy abandoned warehouse, and using duct tape and staples in place of sterile needles and sutures. Martin’s social and psychological hindrances, in addition to the film’s explicit scenes of bodily assemblage, provoke more realistic emotional, and biological reactions from its characters, whose bodily functions literally splatter the stage. Though arguably more gruesome in its imagery than the prior film, THC II, as a black and white film, beautifies realistic bodily grotesqueries through the use of low-key lighting, high-contrast close-up shots, and an exquisitely uncomfortable score that carry on throughout the film. In the opening sequence, we enjoy the capture of Martin’s first Centipede-subjects. Mise-en-scène alone works to construct the psyche of Martin as an authentic psychopath, and to strongly express the exaggeration, MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 48 hyperbole, and excess that make up the fundamentals of grotesque style. Contextualization of the Opening Sequence of T h e H u m a n C e n t i p e d e I I ( F u l l S e q u e n c e ) Martin (Laurence R. Harvey) is a mentally and intellectually challenged forty-something-year-old man who lives with his mother. Martin was subjected to sexual abuse by his father for several years and his mother still blames him for the imprisonment of her husband. Martin’s therapist Dr. Sebring, a Charles Darwin-type character, confesses his desire to “fuck that retarded boy,” thus causing Martin even more grief, aggression, and emotional torment, which drives the motive for his twelve-person Human Centipede- induced sexual fantasy. As discussed above, THC II introduces its antagonist, Martin, watching footage from the last two minutes of THC. By opening with a point-of-view shot, the film forces the viewer immediately to identify with Martin in that moment, for presumably they have both shared the shock, and/or awe- inspiring pleasure of the Tom Six film-universe offered in Part I. Relating again to Gunning’s concept for “rupturing the fictional world”, THC II reiterates heavily on the fact that THC, and horror films as a whole, remain attractions-based, even when committed to an awe-inspiring realism ([1990] 2006: 382). Cynthia Freeland, too, suggests that in “realist horror” there is a shift from narratives committed to intricately unveiling supernatural monsters to “promising and withholding the spectacle of violence” (1995: 128, emphasis added). The dread of the Human Centipede films is largely attached to the coming spectacle produced by a reprehensible, but otherwise possible characters. THC II follows its opening forced point-of-view shot with an establishing shot exposing Martin at work in the ticket booth of an underground parking garage. For Martin, this workspace acts as a place of independence and freedom from his disturbing domestic situation, and, consequently, is where Martin gathers the majority of his subjects. The scene is short and straightforward: Martin watches THC and as the final credits roll, he notices the security cameras capturing a man and a woman walking towards their parked car. Chaos ensues when the man realizes he has lost his keys and Martin assists them with his crowbar for what we assume is the purpose of helping the couple enter their vehicle. The man and the woman laugh at Martin’s social awkwardness; this provokes Martin to shoot the man in the MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 49 foot and the women in the leg. Martin then uses his crowbar—a reoccurring weapon throughout the film—to knock the couple unconscious for the purpose of more efficiently loading their bodies into the back of his van. The sequence concludes with Martin back in his office chair, gazing at the now- paused film credits with a wide-eyed expression inspired by his recent adrenaline rush. The sequence occurs in full-circle; Martin’s breakdown, or moment of “clarity,” begins and ends with his admiration of THC. This five- minute sequence becomes a teaser attraction for the film to come: Not only does this scene begin and end with Martin secure in his office, the film begins and ends there as well. This turnaround is used to insist upon the psychological disturbance of Martin to the point where THC becomes fuel for his repressed aggression, but also a model for his ambition. This sequence epitomizes Martin’s belligerence; while it is not the climax of the film, it is the climax of Martin’s life as a whole. Again, recalling Shelly’s Frankenstein, Bakhtin writes: “The grotesque body, as we have often stressed, is a body in the act of becoming. It is never finished, never completed; it is continually built, created, and builds and creates another body” (1984: 317). The film starts at the peak of Martin’s anger when he begins to implement his fantasy of creating his very own “Human Centipede.” These grotesqueries are visualized, just as Dr. Heiter’s unrefined projector drawings were in THC, in a scrapbook heavily affixed with screen-grabs and doodles that fetishize and romanticize his favourite film. Likewise, Martin’s body is equally put on display as one of grotesque appeal: like the gluttonous characters found within Gargantua and Pantagruel, Martin similarly possesses the fat, round belly, gaping mouth and swollen, popping eyes of the “gay carnival monster” (Bakhtin, 1984: 335). While Rabelais wrote of jovial, unbiased and utopian gluttony, that of festivals, carnivals, and feasts, Martin is situated within the grotesque image of the body, similar to the “Devil Pantagruel,” in his “immeasurable, and infinitely powerful” cosmic terror (Bakhtin, 1984: 335). Bakhtin writes: “This cosmic terror … is the fear of that which is materially huge and cannot be overcome by force. Even the most ancient images of folklore express the struggle against fear, against the memories of the past, and the apprehension of future calamities, but folk images relating to this struggle helped develop true human fearlessness” (1984: 335-336). The scrapbook and THC (First Sequence) work as the template for Martin’s transformation into manhood. Bakhtin continues: “The struggle against cosmic terror in all its forms and manifestations did not rely on abstract hope or on the eternal spirit, but on the material principle in man himself. Man assimilated the cosmic elements: earth, water, air, and fire; he MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 50 discovered them and became vividly conscious of them in his own body. He became aware of the cosmos within himself” (1984: 335-336). A similar evocation of the ‘cosmos within ourselves’, THC II, contrary to the original film, is a look into the psyche of its antagonist, allowing the viewer to take a closer look at the character of Martin, and the motives behind his actions. Tom Six, in his broken English, reasserts this concept of psychological realism: “the film isn’t actually about a ‘Human Centipede’. It’s more, this time, about the main character. […] If the film would be in colour—with all the diarrhoea flying around and the blood, it’s so distracting from the story—it would only be a gore film. And now, it has much more layers, I think” (Andrews, 2012: n.p.). While THC focuses on the victims, the centipede concept, and the resilience of human nature, THC II uses this metanarrative plot structure to examine more closely the personal life of its aggressor, all the while interweaving the central features of grotesque imagery and gritty realism. Martin is not a medical doctor like Dr. Heiter; therefore, his centipede is excessively constructed, as mentioned earlier, by way of staples and duct tape. And his malnourished centipede victims require laxative injections to release their bowels. Unlike the more clinically detached Dr. Heiter, Martin rapes the tail-end of his centipede with barbed wire, creating a façade of power and a comparatively more excessive use of bodily “expressions” than offered by THC. As a result, THC II is even more a cinematic representation of grotesque realism than its predecessor. According to Bakhtin, the bowels and the phallus “play the leading role in the grotesque image, and it is precisely for this reason that they are predominantly subject to positive exaggeration, to hyperbolization. Next to the bowels and the genital organs is the mouth, through which enters the world to be swallowed up. And next is the anus. The main events in the life of the grotesque body, the acts of bodily drama, take place in this sphere” (1984: 317). While the motives of our villain are more pronounced and scrutinized in Part II than in Part I, the obscene nature of the Centipede’s origins, accompanied by the film’s graphic defecation scenes, intensify the grotesque nature of the film. Relating back to what Linda Williams discusses about body genres in “excess,” THC II can also be linked to her theories about the structures of fantasy. She writes: “Laplache and Pontalis maintain that the most basic fantasies are located at the juncture of an irrecoverable real event that took place somewhere in the past and a totally imaginary event that never took place. The ‘event’ whose temporal and spatial existence can never be fixed is thus ultimately […] that of ‘the origin of the subject’—an origin which psycho-analysts tell us cannot be separated from the MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 51 discovery of sexual difference” (Williams, 1991: 10). In the opening scene, Martin fantasizes about his own Human Centipede in way that can be ironically psychoanalyzed as fuelled by his sexual abuse as a child, and the lack of compassion he receives as an adult from his mother, his psychiatrist, and his parking-lot customers. Martin speaks very little dialogue throughout the film; his character is shaped entirely through David Meadows’ black and white handheld cinematography composed of close-up shots and Laurence R. Harvey’s vital expressions, particularly related to his wild, wide, almost swollen-looking eyes. Bakhtin writes that “the nose and mouth play the most important part in the grotesque image of the body. The grotesque is interested only in protruding eyes […] the bulging eyes, a purely bodily tension” (Bakhtin, 1984: 316-317). Framing and lighting within the mise-en- scène of THC II contribute to the narrative development of Martin as a deranged psychopath, and echo Bakhtin’s interpretation of grotesque imagery in terms of transgressive bodily exaggeration and hyperbole. At two minutes and thirteen seconds, THC II cuts to a frame-within-a-frame shot of Martin’s computer screen (Figure 4, above). Off-screen, we hear Martin breathing heavily and coughing amidst the cries, the crickets, and the birds that make up the credit sounds of THC. This close- Figures 4, 5 and 6: Martin (Laurence R. Harvey) watches The Human Centipede (First Sequence) in The Human Centipede (Full Sequence) MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 52 up shot sets the visual and stylistic tone for the entire film, which is shrouded in shadow and rendered claustrophobic through smudged vignette edges made all the more striking by virtue of cinematographer David Meadows’ low-key black-and- white chiaroscuro lighting. When the film cuts away to the left of our antagonist who holds the original perspective, the audience holds its gaze on Martin in the same manner that Martin gazes upon his screen (Figure 5, above). This gaze acts as an examination of the film’s main character and the close- up; additionally, the eyeline match offered in Figure 6 above, allows the audience to become engulfed in Martin’s personal space. The close-up shot is used to emphasize Martin’s facial features and bulging, highly expressive eyes, which often do the talking for him. Figures 7 through 10 (at right) are taken from Martin’s “breakdown” sequence to demonstrate how the use of shallow-focus close- up shots frame his vulnerability, thus again showing Six’s interest in the psychology of his antagonist rather than the plight of Martin’s victims. Close-up shots are commonly rendered Figures 7-10: Martin’s Breakdown in The Human Centipede (Full Sequence) MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 53 in shallow focus to “suggest psychological introspection” (Prunes, Raine, and Litch, 2019: n.p.). Close-ups and extreme close-ups of Martin’s profile, deviating only slightly between eyeline angles, are framed and bordered in shadows as a way to focus the attention on his emotional and psychological state. Gunning discusses close-up shots in relation to his cinema of attractions, suggesting an added element of spectacle to whatever emotional reality is meant to be conveyed: “Its principal motive is again pure exhibitionism [… .] The enlargement is not a device expressive of narrative tension; it is in itself an attraction and the point of the film [… .] It is the direct address of the audience, in which an attraction is offered to the spectator by a cinema showman, that defines this approach to filmmaking” ([1990] 2006: 384). What I am suggesting is twofold: while such close-ups may, according to Gunning, work in service of a kind of disorientation or distanciation (dépaysement), they also work in service of narrative to make a grotesque spectacle of emotion—to prolong emotional and psychological realities for the audience as a kind of extended moment. Edgar Allan Poe created entire stories that were extensions of emotional states, but that can read as strict realism, for all their excesses and occasional hints of the supernatural. Likewise, the hard lighting creates a grotesque realism focus on Martin in that it both renders the scene in chiaroscuro shadows, and highlights the glare from Martin’s saliva, as well as the sweat, the grease, and the oil on Martin’s hair and skin. Both the man and woman are similarly framed in tight close- ups, yet they lack the spotlight that Martin is permitted. Martin remains illuminated by stark (unflattering) light throughout this entire sequence—in his office and in the parking garage—while his subjects are merely sculpted by matte greys and immersive shadows that reflect Six’s intentions of creating a film about the character of his antagonist; Martin does not share the spotlight with his guinea pigs. The opening scene—and ultimately, the entire film—are undoubtedly claustrophobic; we rarely travel outdoors and when we do, we are cemented within Martin’s kill-van, or caught in a torrential downpour. THC II primarily takes place either within the parking garage or locked Martin’s dark, and dingy warehouse, and our sense of claustrophobia are elevated. On the effect that the black and white film and his claustrophobic cinematography had on the construction of character, Six notes: “the story gets a little more dramatic and I think, a little more scary as well, because you, uh, live more with the characters” (Six, 2011, n.p.). The result may be termed a kind of spectatorial claustrophobia that forces affective confrontation with the characters. MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 54 When Martin shoots the couple, Six zooms in on the glistening blood pouring out of their wounds. Likewise, when Martin knocks the man unconscious with his crowbar, the close-up shot and low-key lighting emphasizes the beauty of the wound that Martin created (Figures 11-13, this page). These close-up shots are clearly not meant to emphasize the emotions of the characters—the light is used in these shots to show Martin’s masterpiece of excess; the victims are art objects, and the blood is his paint. Martin is an artist of the grotesque. The lighting in THC II prefers Martin as a subject and works in his favour, artfully illuminating his own artful creations, and echoing Bakhtin’s notion that “the artistic logic of the grotesque image ignores the closed, smooth, and impenetrable surface of the body and retains only its excrescences (sprouts, buds) and orifices, only that which leads beyond the body’s limited space or into the body’s depths. The outward and inward features are often merged into one” (Bakhtin, 1984: 317-318). Currently, one can find (the cut version of) THC II on Canadian Netflix under the “Visually Striking” category, sharing a space with films like The Revenant (Alejandro González Iñárritu, 2015), Only God Forgives (Nicolas Winding Refn, 2013), and Under The Skin (Jonathan Glazer, 2013), to name a few. The film looks, feels, and sounds Figures 11-13: Martin’s murder spectacle in The Human Centipede (Full Sequence) MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 55 like a cross between Lynch’s Eraserhead (1977) and Tsukomoto’s Tetsuo: The Iron Man (1989), films that continually alert the viewer to their aesthetic beauty, while simultaneously pushing boundaries narratively, and atmospherically. Roger Ebert’s “complementary: review of THC II acknowledges this aesthetic: ‘I’m giving this movie no stars, because it exists in a universe where the stars don’t shine. And, the black and white in the sequel really helps create a world with no sun, with no light at the end of the tunnel—a completely unremitting bleak, nihilistic horror’” (cited in Andrews, 2012: n.p.). The sequence concludes with a medium-shot of Martin, viewed from the left, sitting casually, glancing towards his desktop computer as though his current actions were merely a daydream. This scene outlines our protagonist as a simple man driven by carnal, fantastic needs. His abuse as a child, and the physical and (significantly overstated) emotional abuse that he currently suffers from his mother, usurp his plausible fantasies. Likewise, the reoccurring angles and close-up shots of Martin expose his emotional depth. Though Martin is portrayed as being intellectually challenged and nonsensical, these shots, and his expressive eyes, tell us otherwise, even against the film’s wider comedic over-psychologizing. This sequence is perhaps the least gruesome in the film as a whole; however, it is a vital example of Martin’s progressive spiral into the terrible realities of his maniacal reverie. The use of shallow-focus close-up shots and black and white contrast lighting to frame Martin psychologically and aesthetically, paired with the forbidding humming of binaural pulses, bring Martin’s inner world to spectacular life in a similar way to that which Six brings Dr. Heiter’s motivations to life as carnivalesque pageantry. The motivations and focus may be different, but the grotesque-realist-attractions aesthetic remains the same. Conclusion Bakhtin believes that to participate in carnival and grotesque imagery is to find entertainment in satirical literature/texts (like the writings of Rabelais, and Tom Six’s THC films), both of which collapse the binary between high and low, sacred and profane, human and nonhuman animal. To free oneself from the restraints imposed by good taste is to experience life (Bakhtin, 1984: 8-10). Breaking free from behavioural “mimicry” is to “[celebrate] temporary liberation from the prevailing truth and from the established order; [carnival] marked the suspension of all hierarchical ranks, privileges, norms, and prohibitions” (Bakhtin, 10). MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 56 Tom Six has been known to publically voice his discontent with censor boards, and the overzealous “political correctness” of high-class film criticism as a whole. His entire public figure is built around his embrace of audience backlash. Tom Six and his Human Centipede trilogy use gore and excessive corporeal violence to portray and reproduce similar reactions elicited through horror, comedy, and grotesque imaginings to become a ‘parody’ of oneself, and of the conventions by which he gained his success, and The Human Centipede franchise continues to exist outside of the current film universe as a self-referential and self-conscious pastiche of its own excesses. While Six’s villains defy the acceptable behaviour of social order, they also break free from behavioural and cognitive restraints, as do the audiences who react with a combination of laughter and repulsion to on-screen mouth-to-anus surgeries, drooling beady-eyed wannabe mad-scientists, and spraying diarrhoeal excretions. The Human Centipede films’ ‘100% medical accuracy’ suspends cultural norms and privileges to offer a not-entirely-unserious (and certainly not uncritical) escape into naughtiness. Notes 1 This essay excludes discussion of the third film in the trilogy, Human Centipede III (Final Sequence). While that film maintains Six’s interest in upping the ante in terms of confronting a culture’s sense of good taste with extremely bad taste (and political incorrectness), it does so in far less sophisticated ways than its predecessors. 2 See David Edelstein, “Now Playing at Your Local Multi-Plex: Torture Porn,” New York, 39, no. 4 (6 February 2006): 63-64. 3 “Purim Spiel,” or Purim play, is a satirical Yiddish festival or play dramatizing the Hebrew Book of Esther. 4 See Jacques Lacan, Ecrits: The First Complete Edition in English (New York: Norton, 2006). MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 57 References Andrews, Stuart ‘Feedback’. Tom Six. Rue Morgue Radio, 046. 2012. Bakhtin, Mikhail. Rabelais and his World. Hélène Iswolsky, translator, Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1984. Barone, Matt. “Interview: ‘The Human Centipede II’,” Complex, Last modified October 7, 2011. http://ca.complex.com/pop- culture/2011/10/interview-the-human-centipede-2-director-tom-six Bennett, Tony, Grossberg, Laurence, Morris, Meaghan. New Keywords: A Revised Vocabulary of Culture and Society . New York: John Wiley and Sons, 2013. Butler, Marilyn. “Introduction.” In Frankenstein, or The Modern Prometheus: 1818 Text. Marilyn Butler, editor, ix-li. Oxford and New York: Oxford University Press, 1993. BBFC (The British Board of Film Censorship). “The Human Centipede 2: Full Sequence.” Last modified October 25, 2011. https://bbfc.co.uk/releases/human-centipede-2-full-sequence Eraserhead. Directed by David Lynch, performance by Jack Nance. 1977; Los Angeles, CA: American Film Institute. Criterion Collection, 2014. Blu- Ray. “Feedback” Andrews, Stuart. “An Interview with the Director of The Human Centipede II”, The Rue Morgue Podcast, RM-049, 2012. Freeland, Cynthia A. “Realist Horror.” In Philosophy and Film. Cynthia A. Freeland and Thomas E. Wartenberg, editors, 126-142. New York: Routledge, 1995. Gunning, Tom. “The Cinema of Attraction[s]: Early Film, Its Spectator and the Avant-Garde.” In The Cinema of Attractions Reloaded, Wanda Strauven, ed., 381-388. Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2006. Hanley, Ken W. “Q&A: Director Tom Six on The Human Centipede 3: Final Sequence,” Fangoria. Last modified 13 February, 2016. http://www.fangoria.com/new/qa-director-tom-six-on-the-human- centipede-3-final-sequence/ The Human Centipede (First Sequence). Directed by Tom Six, performances by Dieter Laser and Ashlynn Yennie. 2009; Denmark: Six Entertainment, Me New York: IFC Independent Films,, 2010. DVD. MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 58 The Human Centipede II (Full Sequence). Directed by Tom Six, performances by Laurence R. Harvey. 2011; Denmark: Six Entertainment, New York: IFC Independent Films, 2012. Blu-Ray. Jagernauth, Kevin. “First Look At ‘Human Centipede 3 (Final Sequence)’, Director Says It Won’t Be ‘As Gross’ as the Other Movies,” The Playlist. Last modified March 4, 2014. https://theplaylist.net/first-look-at- human-centipede-3-final-sequence-director-says-it-wont-be-as-gross-as- the-other-movies-20140304/ Killien, Greg. “Megillat Esther” Betuminah. Last modified October 17, 2016. http://www.betemunah.org/esther.html#_Toc404178298 Nash, Charlie. “Exclusive: ‘Human Centipede’ Director Tom Six on Political Correctness, Censorship, Fashion, and ‘The Onania Club’,” Breitbart. Last modified January 30, 2017. https://www.breitbart.com/entertainment/2017/01/30/exclusive- human-centipede-director-tom-six-political-correctness-censorship- fashion/ Och, Dana and Kirsten Strayer. Transnational Horror Across Visual Media: Fragmented Bodies . New York: Routledge, 2013. Only God Forgives. Directed by Nicolas Winding Refn, performance by Ryan Gosling. 2013; New York, NY, RADiUS-TWC. Pomorska, Krystyna. “Foreword.” In Rabelais and his World. Hélène Iswolsky, translator, vii-xii. Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1984. Prunes, Mariano, Michael Raine, and Mary Litch. “Cinematography: Shallow Focus.” Film Analysis Website 2.0. Yale University, Last modified 2019, https://filmanalysis.coursepress.yale.edu/cinematography/ Putnam, Samuel. The Portable Rabelais: Gargantua and Pantagruel. New York: Viking Press, 1946. Rabelais, François. “Biographical Note.” In Great Books of the Western World: Rabelais, Vol. 24: Rabelais. Gargantua and Pantagruel by Francois Rabelais. Robert Maynard Hutchins and Mortimer J. Adler, editors, Sir Thomas Urquhart and Peter Motteux, translators. Encyclopædia Britannica Inc., 1952. ---. The Portable Rabelais: The Uninhibited Adventures of Gargantua and Pantagruel. Samuel Putnam, editor. New York: The Viking Press, 1946. MONSTRUM 2 (June 2019) | ISSN 2561-5629 59 The Revenant. Directed by Alejandro González Iñárritu, performances by Leonardo DiCaprio and Tom Hardy. 2015; Los Angeles, CA: 20th Century Fox. “Rabelaisian.” Merriam-Webster Dictionary. Last modified 2019. https://www.merriam-webster.com/dictionary/Rabelaisian Shelley, Mary. Frankenstein. (1818 edition) Ed. J. Paul Hunter. New York and London: Norton, 1996. Six, Tom. “Interview With Filmmaker Tom Six.” Blu-Ray Special Feature. Directed by Tom Six, performances by Laurence R. Harvey. 2011; Denmark: Six Entertainment, New York: IFC Independent Films, 2012. Blu-Ray. Sobchak, Vivian. “What My Fingers Knew: The Cinesthetic Subject, or Vision in the Flesh.” Carnal Thoughts: Embodiment and Moving Image Culture. Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA: University of California Press, 2004. Stam, Robert, Leo Goldsmith and Richard Porton. Keywords in Subversive Film/Media Aesthetics. New York: Wiley-Blackwell, 2015. Tetsuo: The Iron Man. Directed by Shinya Tsukamoto, performance by Tomorowo Taguchi. 1989; Kaijyu Theatres, London, UK: Third Window Films, 2018. Blu-Ray. Williams, Linda. “Film Bodies: Gender, Genre, and Excess.” Film Quarterly. 44, no. 4. pp. 2-13. University of California Press, 1991. Williams, Raymond. Keywords: A vocabulary of culture and society, Revised edition. Oxford University Press, 1983. _________________ - 2019 - MONSTRUM is published in Montréal, Québec by the Montréal Monstrum Society (https://www.monstrum-society.ca/) Intellectual rights are held by the individual author(s). This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). 
work_4jb2ufenn5c47gpbrxo6fhm4ne	----	المجلة العلمية 2.indb 1 A Study on the Surroundings of Sednaoui El-Khazendar Historical Building in Khedival Cairo and Proposals for Improvement and Development Ahmed Elyamani1, Nourhan Mohamed Ali1, Naglaa Abdel-Maksoud1 and Aya Adel1 Abstract This research is a part of an integrated study of Sednaoui El-Khazendar building in Khedival Cairo dating back to 1913. In the first part of this study, presented in another paper, the building was inspected, the causes and symptoms of damage were identified and proposals for conservation and re-use were developed. In this paper, the studies carried out on the building’s surroundings are presented. This area suffers from the random spread of street vendors, traffic overcrowding, high pollution, lack of appropriate road signs and many neglected or misused historical buildings. Among the proposals given to solve these problems and improve the situation are: the reorganization of the existence of street vendors imitating similar cases in other countries such as France and Italy; the reuse of the neglected historical buildings in an integrated way that goes along with the proposal of reusing Sednaoui building itself and adding sufficient traffic signs in streets. Keywords Sednaoui El-Khazendar, Khedival Cairo, Historical Buildings, Street Vendors, Development. Introduction Egypt has a unique architectural heritage, and the governorate of Cairo, being the capital, has acquired the lion’s share of this heritage. Specifically, Cairo down-town, known as Khedival Cairo, owns a large number of historical buildings dating back to the end of the 19th c. and the beginning of the 20th c. The Khedive Ismail who ruled Egypt from 1863 to 1879 dreamt to convert Cairo to “Paris of the East”. He studied in Paris and admired it so much, thus, he asked the French planner and architect Haussmann, the planner of Paris, to achieve his dream2, and he had what he wanted where Cairo was in his time and many years after one of the most beautiful and well organized cities in the world. Architects from France, Italy, Greece and other European countries designed its buildings following the latest architectural styles. These buildings are still vibrant in the center of Cairo, but facing neglect, misuse and lack of maintenance3. Unfortunately, the lack of maintenance is one of the main causes of deterioration of a large part of the Egyptian architectural heritage4 This research deals with an important part of khedival Cairo, the surroundings of one of the most beautiful commercial buildings at the time, the building of Sednaoui El-Khazendar, which dates back to the early 20th century. This building was one of the most important commercial centers in Cairo until the revolution of 1952 and the nationalization of many foreign buildings in Egypt. In a previous detailed study5, the building was inspected and proposals for conservation and reuse were developed. The 1 Cairo University, Faculty of Archaeology, Archaeological Conservation Department. 2 Soheir Zaki Hawas, Khedival Cairo (Cairo: Architectural Design Center, 2002), 14-15. 3 Ahmed Elyamani et al., “A Contribution to The Conservation of 20th Century Architectural Heritage in Khedival Cairo” International Journal of Conservation Science 9, no. 1 (March 2018): 55-56. 4 Salwa Moustafa et al. 2015. “The Tomb of the High Priest of Aton in the Regime of King Akhenaten: Description, Damage and Restoration Works,” In 4th International Conference of Faculty of Archaeology, Cairo University: Egypt and Mediterranean Countries Through Ages, Cairo, 2015; Ahmed Elyamani., “Re-use Proposals and Structural Analysis of Historical Palaces in Egypt: the Case of Baron Empain Palace in Cairo.” Scientific Culture 4, no. 1 (January 2018): 53-73; Abdou A. O. D. El-Derby, and Ahmed Elyamani, “The Adobe Barrel Vaulted Structures in Ancient Egypt: A Study of Two Case Studies for Conservation Purposes,” Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry 16, no. 1 (April 2016): 295; Ahmed Elyamani, and Salwa Moustafa. 2017. “Typical Reasons of the Degradation of Islamic Historical Structures and Its Surroundings and Proposals for Intervention: The Case of Queen Safiyya Mosque in Cairo,” In Proceedings of the 20th International Conference of Arab Archaeologists, Fayoum, 2017, 1572-1573. 5 Aya Adel et al., “On the Conservation and Re-use of Sednaoui El-Khazender Historical Building in Attaba”. In The First Arab Conference for Restoration and Reconstruction, Cairo, 2017. A Study on the Surroundings of Sednaoui El-Khazendar Historical Building in Khedival Cairo and Proposals for Improvement and Development 2 Ahmed Elyamani, Nourhan Mohamed Ali, Naglaa Abdel-Maksoud and Aya Adel current study focuses on the surroundings of the building. This building is located near one of Cairo’s most crowded squares nowadays, Attaba Square. The building’s surroundings are currently suffering from a number of problems. The most noticed ones are the heavy spread of street vendors around it and the high levels of noise pollution and traffic. The study was based on site visits, as well as a survey investigating the opinion of street vendors, the residents, and the visitors in order to identify the real problems and find practical solutions to achieve the desired improvement for the surroundings of this important historical building. Sednaoui El-Khazendar History and Description Samaan Sednaoui was the owner of a small shop in El-Azhar area. After his elder brother, Salem, had arrived to Egypt and participated in the shop, their trade expanded more. Therefore, they decided to transform the small shop into a large building with architectural design similar to ‘Galeries Lafayette’ in Paris and called it after their family name: Sednaoui, and because it was located in El-Khazendar square, it was known as Sednaoui El-Khazendar6,7 Figure 1. Figure1. Sednaoui El-khazendar from outside showing main entrance (left) and from inside showing entrance hall, upper floors and central skylight (right). 6 Amira El-Noshokaty, “Remembering Sednaoui,” Ahram Online, April 30, 2015. 7 Samir Raafat, “ Sednaoui,” Cairo Times, May 29, 1997. 3 Figure 2. Construction development of the area of Sednaoui El-kazendar structure (surrounded by red circle) since 1865 to 1902. Figure 3. Development of Liverpool hotel (surrounded by red circle) since 1903 to 1907. It was officially opened in 1913, and afterwards, its branches in Alexandria, Mansoura, Tanta and all the governorates of Egypt were opened until it reached 72 branches in 1961. After the 1952 revolution, all the branches were transformed into the ownership and management of the public sector in what was called nationalization8. 8 Samir Raafat, “ Sednaoui,” Cairo Times, May 29, 1997. Nubar Pasha palace in 1865 El-khedival hotel in 1874 El-khedival hotel in 1894 El-khedival hotel in 1898 El-khedival hotel in 1900 El-khedival hotel in 1902 Liverpool hotel in 1903 Liverpool hotel in 1903 (focus) Liverpool hotel in 1907 A Study on the Surroundings of Sednaoui El-Khazendar Historical Building in Khedival Cairo and Proposals for Improvement and Development 4 Figure 4. Development of El-khazendar square and Sednaoui El-khazendar (surrounded by red circle) Figure5. Honorary stair in ground floor. The area on which Sednaoui building was built has undergone many changes. The palace of Nubar Basha (Minister of Finance of Khedive Ismail) was built in this area, which was later turned into the Khedivial Hotel and evolved over the years to become Liverpool hotel which was demolished in 1911 and Sednaoui El-Khazendar was built instead of it, Figures 2-49. The building which was considered an architectural and commercial landmark in the 1920s is located in the heart of the commercial city around Al-Azbekiya Park. The building’s architecture belongs to the Baroque style which was employed in many other commercial buildings in Paris at that time. Sednaoui consists of a basement, a ground floor and three typical floors (first to third). It is composed of steel beams rested on steel columns. The floors are made of reinforced concrete. The outer walls are made from stone masonry. Its spacious courtyard, located at the building’s middle (Figure 1, left) is distinguished by its magnificent design making Sednaoui one of 9 Samir Raafat, “Sednaoui,” Cairo Times, May 29, 1997. Sednaoui El- khazendar in 1912 Sednaoui El- khazendar in 1947 Sednaoui El- khazendar in 2017 El-Azbakia ancient site which became El-khazendar square Ahmed Elyamani, Nourhan Mohamed Ali, Naglaa Abdel-Maksoud and Aya Adel 5 the most beautiful shops of the 20th century. It was designed by the famous French architect George Parcq who made Sednaoui as a replica, although slightly larger; of the famous French center ‘Galeries Lafayette’. Sednaoui El-Khazendar was opened on November 3, 1913. Sednaoui can be considered as one of the best models of European architecture in Khedival Cairo and due to its unique architectural design, the Egyptian government, represented in The National Organization for the Urban Harmony, registered it in accordance with law No. 144 of 2006 as a building of distinct value with No. 0322000002110. It is worth mentioning that in 1952, Sednaoui was exposed to fire with many other buildings that were burned in the famous accident of Cairo fires11. Perhaps this is why the two famous masonry domes that were on the facade of the building were destroyed. The pictures of the building in the 1970s show their absence, while they appear in the images of the 1930s and 1940s. The two domes were rebuilt in 1989, when the building was conserved and renovated, but this time they were built with stainless steel neglecting the authenticity of historical construction materials. More recently, on May 3, 2016, more than half of its façade was burned in a series of fires in the Attaba commercial zone12. It has four facades; two of them are visible, the main (west) overlooks El-Khazendar Square and the other overlooks El-Qatawi Street. The two others are not visible because of the construction of new buildings around Sednaoui. The total height of the building is 28 m and its area is about 1900 m2. The central part of the building is covered with a skylight that adds natural beauty to it when the sun passes through the colored glass (Figure 1, left). There is a small garden in front of the building which makes a buffer zone around it. The ground floor has an honorary stair that reaches the entire upper floors and is a highly emblematic architectural element, Figure 5. The current function of the building is the same as the original since its establishment; the sale of various goods such as clothing, shoes and household items. But it seems that this is no longer the optimal use of the building at the present time and over the past years because the type and the models of the presented goods are old, and the prices are high compared to those of the street vendors who are spreading around the building. Thus, this led to the total loss of the commercial value of the building, causing customers to abandon the building which became more like a museum of exhibits rather than a commercial place. Description and problems of the Surroundings of Sednaoui El-Khazendar The surroundings of Sednaoui building (Figure 6) includes the streets of El-Kassar, 26thJuly, El-Gomhorya, Hamdi Seif El- Din, and El-Ruwayi. As can be noticed, the building’s location is distinct as it is the meeting point between El-Muski and Al- Azhar regions (on one hand) and Cairo downtown (on the other). The first two areas are characterized by their old and popular character, and their style is dominated by the old Islamic style; while the downtown is distinguished by its modern European- style buildings. There are various activities in this area (Figures 7-8) including: the commercial ones in several streets (such as Mohammed Ali Street, Al Ruwayi Street, and others); the cultural ones represented in many theaters (such as the National Theater, the Puppet Theater, and Al-Tale’aa Theater) and many bookshops (spread along Al-Azbakeya wall selling many books in various fields and languages). This is considered one of the important destinations for Egyptian intellectuals. Also, there are many heritage buildings (such as the Eden Hotel), administrative buildings (such as the Tax Authority and Cairo Governorate buildings) and modern service buildings (such as the Egyptian Post Office and Central of Al-Attaba), Figure 9. The area is easy to access as it’s close to Al-Attaba Square as well as the Cairo Metro and the public transport station of Al-Attaba. The area is currently suffering from the spread of street vendors, causing problems such as the difficulty of pedestrian and vehicular traffic, high levels of noise pollution, the disappearance of many facades of historic buildings in the area, the theft of electricity from light poles and the spread of garbage. The region also suffers from air pollution from exhausts gases. The lack of slopes that facilitate mobility for people with special needs are also noticed. 10 “ Listed Buildings ,” Urban Harmony, accessed October 30, 2018, http://urbanharmony.org/placedetails.asp?id=19. 11 Mohamed Anis, Cairo fire (Beirut: Arabian Association for Studies and Publishing, 1972), 29-36. 12 Hanan Hagag, “Being fired for the second time: Sednoui was badly affected by neglect and random markets,” Ahram newspaper,May 17, 2016, http:// www.ahram.org.eg/NewsPrint/514228.aspx. A Study on the Surroundings of Sednaoui El-Khazendar Historical Building in Khedival Cairo and Proposals for Improvement and Development 6 (a) (b) Figure 6. (a) Map of the borders of the zone under study, and (b) Arial photo of the zone under study (adopted from Google maps). Figure 7. The extensive commercial activities and the spreading of street vendors and overcrowding in the surroundings of Sednaoui. Studied streets with the major interest Studied streets with the medium interest Studied streets with the minor interest Ahmed Elyamani, Nourhan Mohamed Ali, Naglaa Abdel-Maksoud and Aya Adel Sednaoui 7 Figure 8. Some culture and service buildings within the borders of the zone under study. In order to propose improvement for the region, a study of its condition was carried out. Since the problem of street vendors is the most influential one on the Sednaoui building, a survey was carried out in May 2017 for the number of street vendors in the area and the types of goods they sell and its presentation as shown in Table 1. It is clear from the widespread of street vendors in all streets around the building of Sednaoui that the goods are clothing, shoes, bags, electrical appliances, etc. The vendors’ presentation of goods relies on floor mattresses on the ground directly or hanging them on the walls of the gardens in the area or inside small kiosks. In addition, a survey was done for the opinion of the residents of the region, visitors and street vendors to identify their point of view concerning their problems and their suggestions for improvement. The results are summarized in Table 2. The table shows the important role of street vendors in explaining the various problems related to the region. In addition, a set of initial suggestions were presented to solve these problems and through the survey with the people of the region, as shown in Table 3, the criticisms to these proposals were obtained. Figure 9. Historical and modern structures and squares in the surroundings of Sednaoui. Fencing club El-Taleah theater El-Attaba garage National theater Puppet theater Continental Hotel Eden hotel built in 1905 Telecom Egypt Opera central Sednaoui Opera garage Ibrahim Pasha statue A Study on the Surroundings of Sednaoui El-Khazendar Historical Building in Khedival Cairo and Proposals for Improvement and Development 8 Table 1. Survey of the number of street vendors, the areas they occupy, types of goods and the way of presentation. The area occupied Number of street vendors Goods Presentation Hamdi Seif El-din st. 88 Various small products (sweets, wallets…) On the wall of the pedestrian tunnel in one direction The garden in front of the Opera garage 45 Clothes Hanging on the metal fence of the garden El-Gesh st. 36 Small kiosks to sell drinks and fast food Kiosks inside the pedestrian area From Tiring building to Bank Misr 27 Shoes and bags Floor mattresses From Bank Misr to Al-Andalus hotel 175 Shoes and bags Floor mattresses Between Al-Attaba garage and Sednaoui 113 Shoes and bags Floor mattresses El-Kuttawist. 75 Shoes Tables on the right and left of the street Table 2. Survey of the opinions of the street vendors, the residents, the visitors and the shops’ sellers about the region’s problems and reasons Problem Possible reasons Overcrowding and road block Heavy existence of street vendors Bad traffic Miss-organization of street vendors Refrain about buying from shops Low prices of goods of street vendors Absence of water and electricity for street vendors Absence of permits for street vendors The presence of garbage in the streets Lack of effective garbage collection system in the region Ahmed Elyamani, Nourhan Mohamed Ali, Naglaa Abdel-Maksoud and Aya Adel 9 Table 3. Survey of the opinions of the street vendors, the residents, the visitors and the shops’ sellers in the proposal to solve the problems of the region Proposal Criticism Setting up kiosks for street vendors Block the vision of shops and they need large areas Allocating street vendors in Sednaoui building The building cannot accommodate them due to their great number Buying shops for street vendors Shops’ prices are very high Removing the fence of Sednaoui and creating new places for street vendors Disfiguration of the external facades of the building Demolishing some new (non-historical) buildings to enlarge the streets Difficulty in obtaining demolition permits and high cost of compensation for the owners Relocating street vendors to another location The presence of manufacturing workshops in Bab Al- Shariya near the area, and the consumers will not prefer to go the new places far from the area A Proposal for the improvement of the surroundings of Sednaoui The surroundings of Sednaoui have main strength and weakness points. The core objective of upgrading the surroundings of Sednaoui is to improve its condition by exploiting its strength points to the extent possible to overcome the weaknesses. Thus, this will be reflected in an improvement of the environmental and the social conditions of the region’s residents and visitors. In addition, the economic returns of region’s residents will increase. The outlines of the proposal for improvement are shown schematically in Figure 10. In the following paragraphs, a more detailed explanation of these outlines is given. Figure10. Outlines of the proposals for improvement and development of Sednaoui’s surroundings. A Study on the Surroundings of Sednaoui El-Khazendar Historical Building in Khedival Cairo and Proposals for Improvement and Development 10 Street vendors solution To find a suitable solution to the presence of street vendors in the surroundings of Sednaoui and to avoid problems resulting from them, as mentioned before, we have been guided by what has been achieved in several countries that had the same problem. In Paris and in the Latin Quarter, one of the most crowded neighborhoods, the municipality has allocated several ways to display the products of the vendors (Figure 11). There are iron boxes to display, store books and protect them from sun and rain. These boxes are arranged on the side of the sidewalk so as not to hinder the movement of pedestrians. In addition, some of the side streets have been allocated for pedestrian traffic only and open tables with beautiful truss roof to display the goods in an organized way, spaced apart enough to allow movement while shopping13. In Italy14 and Turkey, we find that the idea of mobile carts for street vendors contributed to solving their problems, Figure 12. This proved to be a good idea to the street vendor who can move freely with his goods and increase selling opportunities. These carts are suitable for selling food and drinks. Unifying the shape, color, and size of these carts is essential in order for it to act as a landmark of the city and a tourist attraction. In Brussels15, the capital of Belgium, the Grand Place is dedicated on Saturdays to be the weekly market for various products such as flowers, clothes, household items and many other things. The idea of assigning one day per week for sale activities is a very good commercial idea. On one hand, the customers wait for this one-day market which increases the selling opportunities for street vendors. On the other hand, these markets are open on weekends only. Hence, closing one street for allocating the market does not affect much the traffic that is already less dense on weekends than on weekdays. Figure 11. Several models of street vendors’ goods in the Latin Quarter of Paris. (a) and (b) the way to sell and store books; (c), (d) and (e) the way to sell manual products. 13 “The Latin Quarter: cheap eats in Paris, France ,” Food Punk, accessed October 30, 2018, http://foodpunk.ca/2011/10/10/the-latin-quarter- cheap-eats-in-paris-france/. 14 “Our trip to Italy ,” Silogic Systems, accessed October 30, 2018, http://www.silogic.com/Italy2004/Italy2004-4.html. 15 “Grand-Place of Brussels ,” Brussels, accessed October 30, 2018, https://www.brussels.be/grand-place-brussels. Ahmed Elyamani, Nourhan Mohamed Ali, Naglaa Abdel-Maksoud and Aya Adel (a) (c) (d) (e) (b) 11 (a) (b) Figure 12. mobile carts (a) in Turky and (b) in Italy. (a) (b) Fig.13. Two proposals to display and store of street vendors’ goods(a) Sunglasses, watches and the like(b) Clothing and textiles In this context, two proposals for presenting the goods of the street vendors are shown in Figure 13. One design is for presenting clothes and textiles and the other for goods like shoes, sunglasses, watches, and similar goods. The designs are suitable for both presenting and storing goods, since they do not require large spaces. Some buildings in the region can also be used after rehabilitation as commercial centers that can accommodate a large number of street vendors as will be mentioned in detail in the next section. Buildings There are many buildings in the surroundings of Sednaoui which if rehabilitated and reused, could contribute significantly to solve the problems previously mentioned. Most of these buildings are in good condition and do not require much effort or a large budget to be repaired. However, they suffer from neglect and are not good employed and some are completely abandoned. Their reuse has many benefits for the region and for the buildings themselves, as well as for the people who live in or visit. Also, it allows maintaining the building and raising its value and prolonged its life time. A suitable use was made for each building based on its previous function and the needs of the region to reach the main objective of turning the region into a rich integrated urban area with its various services. The ideas for the reuse of any of these buildings are based on the international conventions governing the restoration, A Study on the Surroundings of Sednaoui El-Khazendar Historical Building in Khedival Cairo and Proposals for Improvement and Development 12 rehabilitation, and reuse of archaeological buildings such as the Charters of Athens (1931)16 and Venice (1964)17, Nairobi (1976)18. Some of these buildings have large areas and can be reused as an educational and cultural center for the habitants of the region. Others are characterized by their several floors and large areas. The floors could be reorganized using light weight partitions into small shops and they could acco`mmodate a large number of street vendors, Figure 14. Fig. 14.Numbering of buildings in the region that can be rehabilitated and reused Streets There are many streets in the area under study and each street contains many important buildings in addition to various activities, green areas and residential buildings. Since those streets are the link between all of these components, their style and appearance must be maintained through the control of traffic, the placement of suitable signs, the visibility of street name tags, the presence of traffic lights, the availability of parking areas, putting the necessary ramps and paths on all sidewalks to take into account the movement of handicapped people (Figure 15), and the placement of mobile public toilet cabins with a concern to clean them daily. Fig. 15.Partition of the floor to small shops using light weight to help solve the problem of street vendors. 16 Le Corbusier, The Athens charter (New York: Grossman Publishers, 1973). 17 Matthew The Hardy, The Venice Charter revisited: modernism, conservation and tradition in the 21st century (Newcastle upon Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars, 2008). Ahmed Elyamani, Nourhan Mohamed Ali, Naglaa Abdel-Maksoud and Aya Adel 13 Figure 16. Add an earlier ramp to the pavement (on the left) and adjust the slope of the pavement after its collapse (on the right). Conclusion Sednaoui El-Khazender building is a unique architectural heritage piece in Khedival Cairo. The building and its surroundings are suffering from several problems. This paper discusses the problems of the surroundings. The main faced problem is the heavy existence of street vendors around the building. For this reason, surveys were carried out to identify the number of street vendors and the types of goods they sell. By studying how other countries like Italy and France have solved this issue, suggestions were determined to the case of Sednaoui surroundings. The existence of several neglected buildings around Sednaoui could contribute significantly to solve this issue too. The buildings floors could be divided into small shops to accommodate a large number of street vendors. Finally, the streets in the surroundings can be improved mainly by adding sufficient traffic signs and ramps for handicapped people. The current study represents the main framework of improvement of Sednoaoui’s surroundings, more specific and detailed studies should be carried out in the future. A Study on the Surroundings of Sednaoui El-Khazendar Historical Building in Khedival Cairo and Proposals for Improvement and Development 14 Ahmed Elyamani, Nourhan Mohamed Ali, Naglaa Abdel-Maksoud and Aya Adel Bibliography Adel, Aya, Nourhan Mohamed, Naglaa Abdel-Maksoud, Mahmoud Sobhy, Dina Hossam, and Ahmed Elyamani. 2017. “On the Conservation and Re-use of Sednaoui El-Khazender Historical Building in Attaba.” In The First Arab Conference for Restoration and Reconstruction, Cairo, 2017. Anis, Mohamed. Cairo fire. Beirut: Arabian Association for Studies and Publishing, 1972. Brussels. “Grand-Place of Brussels.” Accessed October 30, 2018, https://www.brussels.be/grand-place-brussels. El-Derby, Abdou A. O. D., and Ahmed Elyamani. “The Adobe Barrel Vaulted Structures in Ancient Egypt: A Study of Two Case Studies for Conservation Purposes.” Mediterranean Archaeology and Archaeometry 16, no. 1 (April 2016): 295-315. El-Noshokaty, Amira. “Remembering Sednaoui.” Ahram Online, April 30, 2015, english.ahram.org.eg/NewsPrint/128924. aspx. Elyamani, Ahmed, and Salwa Moustafa. 2017. “Typical Reasons of the Degradation of Islamic Historical Structures and Its Surroundings and Proposals for Intervention: The Case of Queen Safiyya Mosque in Cairo.” In Proceedings of the 20th International Conference of Arab Archaeologists, Fayoum, 2017, 1572-1605. Elyamani, Ahmed. “Re-use Proposals and Structural Analysis of Historical Palaces in Egypt: The Case of Baron Empain Palace in Cairo.” Scientific Culture 4, no. 1 (January 2018): 53-73. Elyamani, Ahmed, Mohamed Saad El-Rashidy, Mahmoud Abdel-Hafez, and Hany Gad El-Rab. “A Contribution to The Conservation of 20th Century Architectural Heritage in Khedival Cairo,” International Journal of Conservation Science 9 no. 1 (March 2018): 55-70. Food Punk. “The Latin Quarter: cheap eats in Paris, France.” Accessed October 30, 2018. http://foodpunk. c a / 2 0 1 1 / 1 0 / 1 0 / t h e - l a t i n - q u a r t e r - c h e a p - e a t s - i n - p a r i s - f r a n c e /. Hagag, Hanan. “Being fired for the second time: Sednoui was badly affected by neglect and random markets,” Ahram newspaper, May 17, 2016 Hawas, Soheir Zaki, Kheival Cairo. Cairo: Architectural Design Center, 2002. Le Corbusier, The Athens charter. New York: Grossman Publishers, 1973. Moustafa, Salwa, Samah Anwar, Dina Ashraf, Salama Ramadan, and Ahmed Elyamani. 2015. “The Tomb of the High Priest of Aton in The Regime of King Akhenaten: Description, Damage and Restoration Works”. In 4th International Conference of Faculty of Archaeology, Cairo University: Egypt and Mediterranean Countries Through Ages, Cairo, 2015. Raafat, Samir. “Sednaoui.”. Cairo Times, May 29, 1997, Zeitouna. Silogic Systems. “Our trip to Italy.” Accessed October 30, 2018, http://www.silogic.com/Italy2004/Italy2004-4.html. The Hardy, Matthew, The Venice Charter revisited: modernism, conservation and tradition in the 21st century. Newcastle upon Tyne, UK: Cambridge Scholars, 2008. Urban Harmony. “Listed Buildings.” Accessed October 30, 2018. http://urbanharmony.org/placedetails.asp?id=19. 
work_4dt36egr2nbhjipjd24mhrmla4	----	1746-4269-5-5.fm UC Davis UC Davis Previously Published Works Title Arginine, scurvy and Cartier's "tree of life". Permalink https://escholarship.org/uc/item/5gk413pb Journal Journal of ethnobiology and ethnomedicine, 5(1) ISSN 1746-4269 Author Durzan, Don J Publication Date 2009-02-02 DOI 10.1186/1746-4269-5-5 Peer reviewed eScholarship.org Powered by the California Digital Library University of California https://escholarship.org/uc/item/5gk413pb https://escholarship.org http://www.cdlib.org/ BioMed Central Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine ss Open AcceReview Arginine, scurvy and Cartier's "tree of life" Don J Durzan Address: Department of Plant Sciences, University of California MS 6, One Shields Ave, Old Davis Rd, Davis, CA 95616, USA Email: Don J Durzan - djdurzan@ucdavis.edu Abstract Several conifers have been considered as candidates for "Annedda", which was the source for a miraculous cure for scurvy in Jacques Cartier's critically ill crew in 1536. Vitamin C was responsible for the cure of scurvy and was obtained as an Iroquois decoction from the bark and leaves from this "tree of life", now commonly referred to as arborvitae. Based on seasonal and diurnal amino acid analyses of candidate "trees of life", high levels of arginine, proline, and guanidino compounds were also probably present in decoctions prepared in the severe winter. The semi-essential arginine, proline and all the essential amino acids, would have provided additional nutritional benefits for the rapid recovery from scurvy by vitamin C when food supply was limited. The value of arginine, especially in the recovery of the critically ill sailors, is postulated as a source of nitric oxide, and the arginine-derived guanidino compounds as controlling factors for the activities of different nitric oxide synthases. This review provides further insights into the use of the candidate "trees of life" by indigenous peoples in eastern Canada. It raises hypotheses on the nutritional and synergistic roles of arginine, its metabolites, and other biofactors complementing the role of vitamin C especially in treating Cartier's critically ill sailors. Background One of the first documented uses of indigenous medicine in North America was the cure in the winter of 1536 of Jacques Cartier's crew from a disease he called "Scor- but"(scurvy) [1,2]. Cartier's second voyage (1535–1536) was undertaken at the command of King François 1er to complete the discovery of the western lands under the same climate and parallels as in France. At Stadaconna, now Quebec City, Cartier's crew was cured from scurvy by ascorbic acid (vitamin C) obtained as a decoction from the Iroquois. It was prepared by boiling winter leaves and the bark from an evergreen tree. The tree, identified as "Annedda", became known as the "tree of life" or "arbre de vie" because of its remarkable curative effects. In the winter, scurvy was the most prevalent disease among the Iroquois. This was due to the lack of food and vitamin C [3]. The cure for scurvy was significant for future naval explo- rations and for the introduction of the tree into France during the Reformation when the Age of Reason began (1558–1648) [4]. The medicinal value of the tree of life contributed to the resurrection of botany, which at that time struggled to free itself from pharmacy when medical men were still its masters. By the eighteenth century, the French naturalists at the Jardin du Roi in Paris knew of Thuja occidentalis as the tree of life and planted an avenue of it in the Jardin itself [5]. The Iroquois referred to the tree as Annedda (l'Annedda, Aneda, Anneda, Hanneda) [2]. Other tribal names for conifers were "ohnehta" for white pine, "onita" and "onnetta" for white spruce (Mohawk, Onandaga). These names represent the evergreen nature characteristic of coniferous trees. Regarding the transmission of the tree of Published: 2 February 2009 Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 doi:10.1186/1746-4269-5-5 Received: 13 August 2008 Accepted: 2 February 2009 This article is available from: http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 © 2009 Durzan; licensee BioMed Central Ltd. This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Page 1 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=19187550 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0 http://www.biomedcentral.com/ http://www.biomedcentral.com/info/about/charter/ Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 life to France, the earlier one goes, the sparser are the avail- able manuscripts. The pre-Linnaeus terminology for coni- fers made their precise identity impossible to make. Based on collections by French explorers and the ethnomedicine of indigenous peoples in eastern Canada, the true identity of the tree of life became controversial [2]. The identity of Anneda was narrowed down to eastern white cedar or arborvitae (Thuja occidentalis L.), white spruce (Picea glauca (Moench) Voss), black spruce (Picea mariana (Mill.)), eastern white pine (Pinus strobus L.), red pine (Pinus resinosa Aiton), balsam fir (Abies balsamea (L.) Mill.), eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis (L.)), and juni- per (Juniperus communis L.) [2,6]. We now know that during late a severe winter and at a similar latitude to Quebec City, the candidate trees of life are a rich nutritional source of arginine, proline and other amino acids [7-9]. Their physiological fluids and proteins contain amino acids which are essential in the human diet because the body does not synthesize them (viz., phenyla- lanine, valine, threonine, tryptophan, isoleucine, methio- nine, leucine, and lysine). Arginine, cysteine, glycine, glutamine, histidine, proline, serine and tyrosine are con- ditionally essential, meaning they are not normally required in the diet, but must be supplied to specific pop- ulations that do not synthesize these amino acids in ade- quate amounts [10]. Today, these amino acids are used as nutritional support for the recovery of critically ill patients [11-14]. In the recovery from scurvy they would help to promote vitamin C-dependent collagen biosynthesis, pro- mote wound healing, reduce susceptibility to sepsis, and contribute to weight gain [10,15-17]. The importance of arginine as a source of the free radical nitric oxide (NO) was recognized by the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 1998 given to R. Furchgott, J. Ignarro and F. Murad. They identified NO as a signalling molecule in the cardiovascular system. Derived from arginine and oxygen, NO maintains blood pressure by dilating blood vessels, helps kill invaders in the immune response, and is needed for wound repair [18-21]. It can pass through biological membranes, oxidize foreign sub- stances, and acts as a secondary biological messenger which affects diverse metabolic pathways. Unexpectedly, the candidate trees of life can produce NO from arginine, and contain guanidino compounds that may regulate the enzyme, nitric oxide synthase (NOS), which is responsi- ble for the formation of NO [8,22,23]. The arginine- derived guanidino compounds are potential therapeutic agents for the regulation of various nitric oxide synthases (NOSs) when the overproduction of NO becomes associ- ated with septic shock, neurodegeneration, and inflam- mation [21]. My review deals with the nitrogenous compounds in the physiological fluids of candidate trees of life in a severe winter, and theorizes as to how these nutrients could have helped to improve the recovery of the critically ill sailors in 1536. The availability of arginine, the essential amino acids, and biofactors in decoctions, obtained from the trees of life, are discussed in terms of their contributions to the recovery of the critically ill crew at Stadaconna, the ethnnobotany and ethnomedicine of the indigenous peo- ples in eastern Canada during food shortages, and in the vitamin C-dependent cure for scurvy. This is meant to gen- erate hypotheses, not to confirm them. The recovery from scurvy in Jacques Cartier's crew in 1536 Scurvy is an acute chronic illness caused by a dietary defi- ciency of ascorbic acid (vitamin C). Humans are not able to synthesize vitamin C from glucose because they lack a gluconolactone oxidase [10]. There are two active forms of vitamin C: L-ascorbic acid and dehydroascorbic acid. Ascorbic acid is absorbed by the small intestine and requires an energy-dependent active transport system. It is stored in all tissues. Exposure to long periods of cold tem- peratures can lead to ascorbic-acid insufficiency. The first symptoms of scurvy occur when the total-body pool of vitamin C falls below five grams. The body requires vitamin C to efficiently use carbohydrates, fats, and protein. It binds and neutralizes the tissue-damaging effects of free radicals. It is an essential cofactor for the for- mation of collagen, the body's major building protein, and is essential to the proper functioning of all internal organs. Scurvy is characterized principally by anemia, hemor- rhagic manifestations in the skin (ecchymoses and peri- follicular haemorrhage), and in the musculoskeletal system (haemorrhage into periosteum and muscles). The gums start to bleed. Teeth are loosened [24]. With no vita- min C intake, the symptoms of scurvy would occur after one to three months. Unless treated, scurvy is fatal. At Stadaconna (46° 49' N, 71° 13' N) and in November1535, Canada's cold struck with its entire rigor, and ice thickened to two fathoms. In December, over 50 of the Iroquois died from an unknown sickness (scurvy). The sickness began to spread to Cartier's crews in all three of his ships. By mid-February 1536, of the 110 member crews, 8 were already dead and more than 50 past all hope of recovery. Excerpts from Burrage [1, p. 73] reveal that the unknown sickness in Cartier's crew "spread itselfe amongst us after the strangest sort that ever was eyther heard of or seene, insomuch as some did lose all their strength, and could not stand on their feete, then did their legges swel, their sinnowes shrinke as blacke as any cole. Others also had all their skins spotted with spots of blood of a purple colour: then did it ascend Page 2 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 up to their ankels, knees, thighes, shoulders, armes and necke: their mouth became stincking, their gummes so rotten, that all the flesh did fall off, even to the rootes of teeth, which did also almost fall out". "Our Captaine seeing this our misery, and that the sicknesse was gone to farre, ordained and commanded, that every one should devoutly prepare himselfe to prayer, and in remem- brance of Christ, caused his Image to be set upon a tree, about a flight shot from the fort amidst the yce and snow, giving all men to understand, that on the Sunday following, service should be said there, and that whosoever could goe, sicke or whole, should go thither in Procession, singing the seven Psalmes of David, with other Letanies, praying most heartily that it would please the said our Christ to have compassion upon us ... That day Philip Rougemont...being 22 yeeres olde, and because the sicknesse was to us unknown, our Captaine caused him to be ripped to see if by any meanes possible we might know what it was...he was found to have his heart white, but rotten, and more than a quart of red water about it: his liver was indifferent faire, but his lungs blacke and mortified, his blood was altogither shrunke about the heart, so that when he was opened great quantitie of rotten blood issued out from about his heart...Moreover, because one of his thighs was very blacke without, it was opened, but within it was whole and sound." Scurvy continued to spread until not more than three sound men remained in the ships. None were able to go under the hatches to "draw drink for himselfe, nor for his fellowes." At Stadaconna, Cartier encountered the native Domagaia, who "not passing ten or twelve dayes afore, had bene very sike with that disease, and had his knees swolne as bigge as a childe of two yeres old, all his sinews shrunke together, his teeth spoyled, his gummes rotten, and stinking. Our Captaine seeing him whole and sound, was therat marvelous glad, hoping to understand and know of him how he had healed himselfe...He answered, that he had taken the juice and sappe of the leaves of a certain Tree, and therewith had healed himselfe: For it is a singular remedy against that disease." Domagaia "sent two women to fetch some of it, which brought ten or twelve branches of it, and therewithall shewed the way how to use it... to take the barke and leaves of the sayd tree, and boile them togither, then to drinke of the sayd decoction every other day, and to put the dregs of it upon his legs that is sicke: moreover, they told us, that the vertue of that tree was, to heale any other disease: the tree in their language called Ameda or Hanneda..." Other translations refer to the tree as "Annedda", "Anneda" or "Hanneda" [2]. This sickness was treated with a boiled decoction from the bark and leaves of "a tree as big as any oak in France". Cook [25] translates that "The Captain at once ordered a drink to be prepared for the sick men but none of them would taste it. At length one or two thought they would risk a trial. As soon as they had drunk it they felt better, which must clearly be ascribed to miraculous causes; for after drinking it two or three times they recovered health and strength and were cured of all the diseases they had ever had. And some of the sailors who had been suffering for five or six years from the French pox [syphilis] were by this medicine cured completely. When this became known, there was such a press for the medicine that they almost killed each other to have it first; so that in less than eight days a whole tree as large and as tall as any I ever saw was used up, and produced such a result that had all the doctors of Louvain and Montpellier been there, with all the drugs of Alexandria, they could not have done so much in a year as did this tree in eight days; for it benefitted us so much that all who were willing to use it recovered health and strength, thanks be to God." We do not know how much ascorbic acid was lost during the boiling of the decoction and in the recovery of the "dregs", but it is clear that sufficient vitamin C was available to ini- tiate a cure. In today's healthy men, the body is estimated to store 1,500 mg of ascorbic acid. It is used at an average rate of 3% of the existing pool per day [26]. After three months of vitamin C deprivation, the stores become largely depleted. The earliest signs of depletion begin during the first month of deprivation. Bleeding gums are not the most characteristic feature of scurvy and are a late mani- festation. Except in the most severe cases, vitamin C would stop spontaneous bleeding within 24 hours and bleeding of the gums would stop in two to three days. Muscle and bone pain would quickly fade [24]. In advanced scurvy another group of symptoms becomes identifiable [15,24]. They include ocular haemorrhages, loss of secretion of salivary and lachrymal glands, swelling of the parotid and submaxillary glands, loss of hair, fem- oral neuropathy, oliguria with edema of the lower extrem- ities, psychological disturbances, impaired vascular activity, poor responses to stimuli that normally activate vasomotor adaptive mechanisms, and scorbutic arthritis, which is clinically similar to rheumatoid arthritis with pain, swelling, joint effusions, and limited motion. All of the above would respond completely to therapy with ascorbic acid given the added nutritional benefits of the conditionally and essential amino acids and other biofac- tors in the decoction. Identities of Annedda and the trees of life Before 1547 and during the reign of François 1er, seeds of Annedda were delivered to the Royal Garden (Jardin du Roi) at Fontainbleau and presented to the King. Appar- ently seeds were collected from a tree or trees similar to Annedda [2]. In 1553, Belon wrote in the Bulletin Den- drologique that Annedda was growing in the Royal Gar- dens at Fontainbleau. Nearby was another small tree, a Page 3 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 five-needled pine, referred to as the second tree of life. Wood from these trees were used as medicine. In Hickel's translation [27] of Belon's book, we read that "...à cette époque, les seules espèces exotiques introduites étai- ent l'Arborvitae (Thuya occidentalis) et Pinus strobus, et que, d'autre part l'auteur confond plus ou moins diverses espèces de pins." When Belon visited Turkey, he found a tree similar to the one at Fontainebleau, which was brought from Canada and called "Arbre de Vie". Moore [6] citing the works of Bolle [28] and Annon. [29], who both reexam- ined Belon's records, proposed that the identity of the Annedda was not eastern white cedar, but a five-needled white pine (Pinus strobus). It is now evident that two trees of life were introduced from North America as exotic spe- cies [2,6]. "The fate of the pine at Fontainbleau is not known" [6]. Bolle [28]"could not find any further record of eastern white pine growing in Europe until 150 years later when it was introduced into England". In 1632, the botanical garden, established in Paris in 1632 by King Louis XIII of France, was intended for the cultiva- tion of medicinal plants [5]. Landowners and naturalists were engaged in testing the effects of climate upon grow- ing new exotic species arriving in France. A Bridgeman Art Library archive shows a "burgeoning bower" resembling eastern white pine in the botanical garden (Nature 2001, 410, 303). The King's garden survived the French Revolu- tion (1796–1798) and its nurseries were used to provide patriotic 'trees of liberty'. They were planted in front of public buildings. The first trees of liberty were actually maypoles planted by peasants as a symbol of revolt against local lords in the winter of 1790. Today, Annedda is commonly referred to as eastern white cedar or arborvitae (Thuja occidentalis L.). This appellation was based on botanical evaluations, historical documents, naval and folklore medicine, notes of Cartier's contempo- raries, and on the estimates of biochemical content of vitamin C [2]. The anti-scorbutic benefits of the candidate trees of life are abundant in the records and reviews of indigenous Maritime medicine [2,3,30-33]. Conifers, native along the travel routes of Jacques Cartier, and with known high levels of vitamin C are Picea rubens, Pinus resinosa, Pinus nigra, and Pinus banksiana. In the "Native Trees of Canada", Canada Forest Service Bulletin 1919, No. 61 the botanical names of conifers had popular names. Thuja occidentalis was called cedar, and referred to as white cedar, and arborvitae. Pinus strobus was called white pine, and sometimes referred to as Weymouth pine, pattern pine, eastern white, yellow, and Quebec pine. Picea canadensis was called white spruce, and sometimes northern, skunk, cat spruce, and pine. Pinus banksiana was called jack pine and sometimes grey pine, cypress, juniper, and Banksian pine. Today, the eastern white cedar (Thuja occidentalis L.) has the largest number of cultivars, and many do not resemble the species type [34]. Mature trees will reach 30 to 40 feet tall with a spread of 15 feet. The upright cultivars are much shorter. The latter would unlikely be "as big as any oak in France". In eastern Canada, white pine was reported to reach a height of 250 feet and a diameter of 6 to 15 feet [35]. Conifer decoctions for the treatment of scurvy Domagaia cured himself with the "the juice and sappe of the leaves of a certain tree". Adult scurvy is now treated with 300–1000 mg of ascorbic acid per day [15]. In clinical der- matology, ascorbic acid is recommended three times a day, 100 mg is given until 4 g is reached, and then 100 mg/d becomes curative in days to weeks [24]. Repletion studies demonstrated recovery from daily doses of only 6.5 [26]. Larger doses gave more rapid improvement and increased ascorbic acid storage in the body. The plasma levels of ascorbic acid attained depended on body weight (dose per kg of body weight) and on whether or not any prior depletion had been adequately repleted [16]. In early explorers, a deficiency of vitamin C repeatedly caused morbidity and death [36,37]. Teas, brews, and beers, prepared from the needles of spruces and pines, were used to treat the symptoms of scurvy [38,39]. Scurvy remedies were being made, sold and used under the name of "sapinette"[2]."According to the physician Gardane, in Des maladies des créoles (Paris 1784), this was a decoction of "sapin du Nord", or Picea abies. In Canada sapinette was made from the buds of the "Prussian fir", a name which was used indiscriminately for Abies alba, A. balsamea, and Picea abiesby Cartier. Sapinette was widely used in Canada, but the recipe seems to have come originally from the Baltic coast and sapin- ette was being used by the Russian navy long before the French took interest in it. The Russians in fact did use fermented pine buds with their fir decoction, though the species here is not spec- ified. But it seems the French used fir, even in Canada" (Spary, personal communication [5]). Spary writes, "The French were experimenting with sapinette on their long-distance voyages during the 1780s, and it was stocked on board the Laperouse expedition vessels"..." sapinette was bought ready-made from London. All things considered, this does not suggest that there was a direct connection between Pinus strobusin particular and the antiscorbutic programme, though it is entirely possible that this species was brought to Paris to be investigated for its virtues in that regard". The Brit- ish knew of the anti-scorbutic benefits of sapinette and of lemons and oranges in a cure for scurvy [37]. In 1753 Page 4 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 scurvy was recognized by the British medical community as directly related to dietary deficiency. Spruce beer was used as an anti-scorbuticum by James Cook in his second Pacific voyages in Western Canada (1772–1775) [40]. Cook obtained this recipe for spruce beer from Joseph Banks who had visited Newfoundland before Cook [41]. The beer was prepared from fresh nee- dles of a spruce tree, which in New Zealand was Dacrydium cupressinum [42]. On Cook's third voyage near Alaska, Sitka spruce (Picea sitchensis) was used but it was not as acceptable as the brew from Dacrydium. [43]. A similar drink called "Kallebogas" was used in Newfoundland. Variations involved the addition of rum and maple sugar [44]. Vitamin C was first isolated from paprika, chemically identified, and its metabolic role worked out by Albert Szent-Györgyi. He found that vitamin C also required cofactors to function properly. These cofactors are now known to be flavonoids. He was awarded the Nobel Prize in Physiology or Medicine in 1937 for his discoveries in biological combustion with special reference to vitamin C and for the catalysis of fumaric acid, an intermediate in the citric acid cycle. These factors, taken together, were probably available in the decoction used to cure scurvy. Eastern hemlock (Tsuga canadensis) and black spruce (Picea mariana) served as ascorbutica [32,44]. The indige- nous peoples of the Maritime Provinces of Canada used roots, twigs, leaves, and bark, but rarely strobili or seeds in decoctions taken as a cupful in the morning [3]. Teas, pre- pared by steeping or boiling leaves from conifers, served as refreshing drinks and a tonic of medicinal value [33]. Green tissues offer high moisture content, vitamin C, folic acid, minerals and other biofactors. Roots are a good source of minerals but provide only small amounts of vitamins in a 100-gram portion [32]. The bark was usually collected from the east side of the tree. The selected root or branch ran to the east [3]. The reason was that these col- lections benefited from having more potency obtained from sunlight. The vitamin C in lemon and oranges (50 mg/100 g) are exceeded in the needles and bark of several conifer spp. [33]. Reduced ascorbic acid in 100 g of fresh needles and shoots was reported in Abies balsamea (270 mg), Picea rubens (169 mg), Pinus strobus (32 mg, bark contained 200 mg), Thuja occidentalis (45 mg) [2]. R. B. Thomson at the University of Toronto found a content of 20–80 mg reduced ascorbate in 100 g of white spruce bark [2]. For the treatment of scurvy, spruce (white and black) was con- sidered as a likely candidate for the tree of life based on the ethnobotanical literature. Spruce is frequently recorded as being antiscorbutric and common in Quebec City. White pine was also widely used. The extracts from Cartier's tree of life raised considerable interest as a cure for all diseases. In 1494 King Charles VIII of France had already invaded Italy. Within months, his army collapsed and was routed not by the Italian army but by a mysterious new disease [45]. The disease was spread through sex and killed many of Charles's solders. Euro- pean physicians were already aware of the root of sarsapa- rilla (Smilax officinalis) as a tonic, blood purifier, diuretic, and sweat promoter. Cartier's claim for the Iroquois decoction as a cure of all diseases may have been over- stated to impress King François 1er (1515–1547). It is unlikely that vitamin C and other components from the trees of life would have cured syphilis in Cartier's crew at Stadaconna. Food sources and medicines used by indigenous peoples in Canada Twenty-five conifer species are identified as a traditional food source by indigenous peoples of Canada. Kuhnlein and Turner [32] have described the distribution, occur- rence, food values and warnings for the Cypress family (Cupressacae), the Pine family (Pinaceae), and the Yew family (Taxaceae). The Canadian indigenous peoples are recognized for their ingenuity in processing foods to remove toxins by heating, leaching, fermenting, adsorp- tion, drying, physical processing, and changing the acid- base ratio. Arnason et al. [33] have produced a compen- dium of the various uses of plants, which would have been accessible to Cartier before winter, and used by indigenous peoples of eastern Canada. Land-based scurvy is well documented as occurring dur- ing times of food shortages [46]. Late springs and low lev- els of vitamin C in stored grain contributed to endemics of sub-clinical scurvy. As for the candidate trees of life, food would include seeds, buds, inner bark, cambium and sap of trees. The inner bark of trees was eaten at any time of the year as an emergency food. The inner bark of hem- lock was not an adequate famine food on its own if har- vested outside the spring season [33]. Needles of Abies, Picea, and Pinus spp. have protein con- tent from 2.5 to 8.8 mg/100 g fresh weight [32]. Arginine, a dominant amino acid in protein and the physiological fluids of conifers, was first isolated in Switzerland by Schulze [47] using seedlings of Picea, Pinus, and Abies spp.. In seeds, arginine can represent 10% of the N in conifer protein [48]. The sugar, amino acids, and protein content of Pinus banksiana seeds from different geographic sources across Canada correlates significantly with climate varia- bles at the seed source [49]. Expanding spruce buds and Page 5 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 germinating jack pine seedlings would provide a rich source of amino acids, proteins and nucleic acids [50-56]. Given the statement that "in less than eight days a whole tree as large and as tall as any I ever saw was used up", lichens, commonly found on tree trunks and branches, and prob- ably added many biofactors to the nutrients and vitamins in the Iroquois decoction. The main edible tree lichen is Bryoria fremontii [32]. Lichens comprise two types of plants, an alga and a fungus growing together in a symbi- otic relationship. Lichens are difficult to digest because of their complex polysaccharides, which do not break down during cooking. Some lichens were boiled for 24 h and eaten only in times of food scarcity and to remove toxic substances [32]. In general, tree bark only contains traces (0.04 to 0.17%) of nitrogenous extractives [57,58]. The inner bark of loblolly pine, felled in December at Gulfport, Mississippi in a much warmer climate than Quebec City, was domi- nated by the amides (glutamine and asparagine), their dicarboxylic acids, and alanine [59]. As for compounds not containing nitrogen in conifer bark, the bioflavonoids and proanthocyanidins are constituents that have been commonly found in medicines. The Algonquin in Quebec used decoctions from Pinus strobus to treat breathing dis- orders, rheumatism, and kidney disorders [33]. Picea spp. were used by the Iroquois to treat respiratory ailments, urinary problems as a poultice for blood poisoning [33]. The boiled decoction that cured scurvy was prepared from the bark and leaves of ten or twelve branches. The dregs, which were put on legs, would contain many factors as a salve. In a 20 kg bulk extract from white spruce, the boiled extractives contained at least nine compounds which were weakly reactive with the Sakaguchi reagent for the guanid- ino group (unpublished data). A total ion chromatogram, mass spectral data, the molecular weight of species in the extract, and a list of their putative elemental composition, revealed several yet unidentified N-containing com- pounds and polymers having very high molecular weights, one of which had 220 Da subunits. During a sabbatical at the University of Quebec, Dr. J. Masquelier read Jacques Cartier's account and this turned his attention to the antioxidant proanthocyanidins of conifer bark [60]. He referred to proanthocyanidins as pycnogenols. Pycnogenol® is now a patented trade name for a water extract of the bark of the maritime pine (Pinus pinaster) commonly grown in the coastal southwest of France. The trade name refers to a specific proprietary pine bark extract with proanthrocyanidins (procyanidins) from Pinus maritima. The procyanidins scavenge free radi- cals and modulate NO metabolism [61]. They are capable of preventing the oxidation of vitamin C and are more effective than vitamin E in scavenging damaging free rad- icals. Considerable literature now exists on the health benefits of the procyanidins when taken as supplements. As of 2008, the National Institutes of Health in the USA were carrying out clinical trials of pycnogenol for the treat- ment of lymphedema, endothelial function in coronary heart disease, hypertension and diabetes. Herbal remedies from eastern Canadian conifers contain salicylates, astringent tannins, polyacetylenes, antibacte- rial alkaloids, anti-inflammatory terpenes [33,62,63]. Recognizing Thuja occidentalis as the "tree of life", Felter [64] described its medicinal uses in American therapy. He recommended extractives in the form of aqueous, non- alcoholic, ointment and oil preparations. Indigenous peoples have employed Taxus spp. for their utility, wood quality, mythology and medicines [65]. Decoctions were used to treat fever, scurvy, and to bring out clots and alleviate pain after childbirth.Taxus spp. con- tain more than 300 taxanes (taxoids) some of which are poisons, and others have significant physiological effects [66]. Today, the most well known taxane is paclitaxel (Taxol®). It blocks cellular growth by binding to microtu- bules. This property makes it useful for the treatment of various cancers, but with side effects. Taxane-like com- pounds were detected in spruce and other conifers using antibodies to the taxane ring [23,67,68]. The recovery of paclitaxel and the taxanes from Taxus biomass was increased by mechanical stresses which elicit NO produc- tion from arginine [22,23]. Product recovery was reduced by adding a synthetic guanidino inhibitor of NOS. We now return to arginine and other amino acids, which are important in human nutrition and serve as substrates required for the vitamin C-dependent synthesis of colla- gen in the cure for scurvy. Arginine and amino acids in overwintering conifers The seasonal changes in the amino acid composition of conifers represent a tropistic adaptation to environmental changes which prepare trees for dormancy and survival over long and severe winters. Winter decoctions, used by the Iroquois, would have contained the conditionally essential arginine and the essential amino acids required in the human diet. The physiological fluids of Picea glauca buds and shoots during a severe winter at Petawawa (45° 08' N, 81° 27' W) and similar in latitude to Quebec City were found to contain between150 to 200 mg amino acid N per 100 g fresh weight [8]. When the first snow appeared in November, the percent contribution of arginine N to the total soluble amino acid N increased from 20 to 45%. It was 40–53% in December. In January and February the shoots became ice-covered and the temperatures averaged -16 C. Arginine N now Page 6 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 comprised 30–43% and 12–18% of the total soluble amino acid N, respectively. Levels of glutamine N always remained low, but increased significantly when buds expanded in spring. Proline N, which is derived from arginine, varied between 3 to 5% (November), 4 to 6% (December), 4 to 7% (January), and 8–13% (February). From November to February, the concentrations in mg of the nine amino acids, essential in human nutrition, and recovered from the physiological fluids of 100 g fresh nee- dles from shoots at 4 to 5 feet were: phenylalanine (0.5– 1.5), leucine (0.4–1.6), isoleucine (0.4–1.0), valine (0.5– 1.5), lysine (0.7–1.5), threonine (0.9–1.3), methionine, tryptophan, and histidine (each 0.01). Arginine, ranged between 16.0–21.0 mg/100 g fresh weight. The seasonal trends in amino acid content were reaffirmed with excised dormant buds forced to sprout under aseptic conditions in the laboratory [69]. Tissue and bark compositions can vary due to differences in age of tissues in trees, environ- mental stresses, time of day, and the availability of N from the environment [7,52,53,69-71]. With white spruce sap- lings, when ammonium is the sole source of N in sand cultures, arginine and guanidino compounds are major components of the total soluble N but not when nitrate is the sole source of N [72,73]. Isotopic tracers are phenotyping tools in metabolism and a cornerstone in nutritional science. In white spruce, [UL- 14C]-L-arginine serves as a precursor for proline via orni- thine [8,9]. Feeding [UL-C14]-L-proline and [UL-14C]-L- glutamine to winter dormant buds revealed traces of 14C- glutamic-γ-semialdehyde and 14C-Δ1-pyrroline-5-carboxy- lic acid [73]. These intermediates are highly transient pre- cursors for the synthesis of proline, glutamic acid and glutamine. Free hydroxyproline is not found in the physi- ological fluids unless the tissues are pathological. 14C-Pro- line and 14C-hydroxyproline residues were recovered from protein hydrolysate indicating that proline was hydroxy- lated to hydroxyproline in spruce protein. L-Proline-4-3H incorporation into protein was also observed with seed- lings of Pinus banksiana [54]. In humans, proline and hydroxyproline obtained from conifer buds and seedlings would be available for the vitamin C-dependent synthesis of collagen. The metabolic pathways, cycles, and enzymes responsible for arginine metabolism in conifers are summarized in Figure 1. [UL-14C]-L-arginine and [carbamoyl-14C]-L-cit- rulline fed to pines and spruces revealed that arginine was synthesized via the intermediate steps of the urea (orni- thine) cycle [74-80]. Arginine serves as a pivotal departure point from the urea cycle for the synthesis of urea and ornithine via arginase, and for proline, glutamate and glutamine. It is a substrate for the formation of NO and citrulline via NOS, and for the guanidino compounds and in protein synthesis. Arginase has been purified from con- ifers [81]. During rapid growth, the fates of 14C-urea and tritiated water in white spruce and jack pine tissues were a function of light availability [78,79]. In light and darkness, urea was degraded by urease to ammonia and carbon dioxide. In light, the 14C-carbon dioxide, derived from urea, was reassimilated by photosynthesis and incorporated ini- tially into alanine and glutamic acid. In darkness, ammo- nia and 14C-carbon dioxide contributed to the formation of carbamoyl phosphate for the biosynthesis of arginine and other metabolites [80]. In winter dormant tissues, these metabolic steps were latent and difficult to detect. Most of the N in the physiological fluids was stored in arginine and the guanidino compounds. Amino acids are water soluble at high temperatures [82] and most would be stable in boiled decoctions. Depend- ing on pH, boiling may reduce the levels of glutamic acid due to its conversion to pyroglutamic acid. Vitamin C is readily available in fresh tissues even in winter. Its concen- tration usually increases during the spring growing season [33]. The food processing industry has demonstrated that the largest losses of vitamin C in foods occur during heating [17]. We do not know if the "juice and sappe of the leaves" from Annedda were obtained without boiling and taken by Domagaia. Fresh conifer leaves can be chewed right off a branch provided that scurvy would prevent him from doing this. Chewing or crushing the leaves would release NO from the conifer cells (Figure 2). The decoction from Annedda, took every other day, provided the needed warmth as a protection from cold, sufficient vitamin C, various biofactors, the essential amino acids, and the con- ditionally essential arginine, which would provide N for the synthesis of NO in the wasting sailors. Arginine as a source of nitric oxide in conifers The first report of NO production from arginine in a con- ifer was provided by Magalhaes et al. [83]. Using a dye (Figure 2), bursts of NO were visually detected when cells were wounded or exposed to a variety of and biotic and abiotic stresses [22,23]. NO is synthesized by NOS in the L-arginine-NO pathway. The pathway comprises a citrul- line/NO cycle (Figure 1). A citric acid cycle, not shown in Figure 1, provides aspartate N via fumarate, malate, and oxaloacetate for the synthesis of L-argininosuccinate from citrulline. Plants and animals synthesize NO and citrulline from arginine and oxygen as substrates [22,23,84,85]. The ami- dine N of the guanidino moiety of arginine is the source of the N in NO. Citrulline is recycled back to arginine via Page 7 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 argininosuccinate. Plant NOS remains incompletely char- acterized and is a different enzyme from the NOSs in humans [84,85]. Atypical of most conifers, the shoots of seedlings of Cryptomeria japonica have high levels of citrul- line rather than arginine [86]. In conifers, low and protective levels of NO are rapidly produced in response to mechanical forces, environmen- tal stresses, wounding, and as a protective measure against insects and diseases [22,23,85,87-90]. NO activates sec- ond messengers which participate in protein phosphor- ylation, nitrosylation, gene expression, development, and in expressions of adaptive plasticity. NO contributes to developmentally programmed cell death (apoptosis) and autophagy. This is demonstrated in the death of one of the four megaspore cells after meiosis, and again in monozy- gotic cleavage polyembryony of early embryos found in developing seeds [91,92]. High levels of NO damage DNA and lead to the nitration of the tyrosine residues in cell regulatory proteins [88,89]. NO bursts are produced before the release of ethylene, a plant hormone which is associated with senescence and fruit ripening [93]. Arginine metabolism, the partial reactions of the urea cycle, the L-arginine-NO pathway, a citrulline-NO cycle, and a branch point leading to the formation of guanidino compounds with special reference to conifers in eastern CanadaFigure 1 Arginine metabolism, the partial reactions of the urea cycle, the L-arginine-NO pathway, a citrulline-NO cycle, and a branch point leading to the formation of guanidino compounds with special reference to conifers in eastern Canada. Enzymes: 1. ornithine carbamoyl transferase, 2. argininosuccinate synthetase, 3. argininosuccinate lyase,4. arginase, 5. nitric oxide synthase, 6. arginine deiminase, 7. arginine decarboxylase, 8. numerous enzymes acting on arginine and responsible for the formation of guanidino compounds. Reactions 1 to 4 comprise the partial reactions of the urea cycle in plants. Not shown is the synthesis and turnover of proteins which alters the pool of available arginine and other protein amino acids. Reactions 2, 3, and 5 comprise the L-arginine-NO pathway and the citrulline-NO cycle, which are responsible for the stress-induced formation of NO from arginine and oxygen. 6. Arginine deiminase is not yet known in coni- fers but has been reported in other plants. Steps 7 and 8 remove arginine from the urea and citrulline-NO cycles and divert N into the naturally occurring guanidino compounds some of which are inhibitors of respiration. During the onset of winter dor- mancy, arginine N, the guanidino compounds and proline N accumulate in the physiological fluids. Arginine is stored in reserve proteins to provide N for amino acid, amide, and renewed protein and nucleic acid synthesis in the spring. The conversion of proline to glutamine via glutamic acid now provides transferable hydrogen atoms making proline a readily available and highly- water soluble source of energy and reducing power for the photosynthetic assimilation of carbon dioxide. Page 8 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 NO production from arginine represents a significant evo- lutionary advance in gymnosperms before angiosperms and humans evolved. Recognition of the natural and syn- thetic guanidino compounds as inhibitors of NOS was facilitated by the availability of authentic standards, iso- topic tracers, and by the development of new analytical instrumentation [94-96]. Guanidino compounds derived from arginine in conifers An important physiological property of the guanidino group is its ability to form a bond of high energy with phosphate. This phosphate can be transferred, without the loss of bond energy, to couple and provide energy for biochemical and mechanical processes [10]. Guanidines with the high energy bond are called phosphagens, e.g., N-phosphorylarginine. Phosphagens are vital for the sus- tained action of muscles in many invertebrates and some vertebrates. N-phosphorylarginine was reported in jack pine cell cultures [97,98] and in developmental stages in the eastern spruce budworm which feeds on conifer nee- dles [99,100]. In humans, a guanidino-amino acid, creatine is the pre- cursor for phosphocreatine, which serves as the phos- phagen and energy buffer [10]. Creatine is synthesized from glycine and receives its guanidino group from arginine. I could find no evidence in spruce buds for the synthesis of creatine from 14C-glycine and [1-14C]-guanid- inoacetic acid. Guanidinoacetic acid inhibited oxygen uptake and yielded 14CO2, 14C-glycine and 14C-serine. The transamidination of [1-14C]-guanidinoacetic acid with glycine yielded guanidinoacetic acid and 14C-glycine. This transamidination occurred as arginine-rich storage pro- teins in spruce buds were being turned over with a respi- ratory quotient less than one. In spruce and pine, γ-guanidinobutyric acid is commonly reported as a product of arginine metabolism [8,9,42,101,102]. The detection of α-keto-δ-guanidinova- leric acid in white spruce suggested that the transamina- tion of arginine with a keto acid followed by decarboxylation would account for the formation of γ- guanidinobutyric acid [103]. In general, the naturally occurring guanidino compounds are derived by decarbox- ylation, transamidination, transamination, condensation, methylation, phosphorylation, cyclization, and by dehy- drogenase activity [104,105]. In the Petawawa forest and after four years of growth in continuous full, 45, 25, and 13% natural light, shade-tol- erant white spruce saplings redistributed their biomass before the onset of winter dormancy [71]. A spruce sap- ling requires at least 20% light to survive. Increased shad- ing diverted soluble N from glutamate, glutamine, and aspartic acid to arginine N mainly in roots and to a lesser extent in stems, buds, and needles. γ-Guandinobutyric acid and several unidentified guanidino compounds accu- mulated mostly in roots of saplings at 25 and 13% light [unpublished data]. Arginine and the guanidino com- pounds comprise a N-rich metabolic pathway that helps to account for the ability of conifers to adapt and survive under limiting environmental conditions. Their impor- tance in the food and medicinal practices and as markers of the inappropriate release of NO of the indigenous peo- ples, requires further investigation. Their role as regulators of NOS would depend on being closely related to the structure of arginine and their ability to bind to NOS. Nutritional support in treating scurvy and critical illness The purpose of nutritional support is to save life, preserve and improve cellular function, and to speed recovery. Critical illness is generally characterized by a combination of starvation and stress. Critical illness can be viewed in four stages [12]: 1. Acute critical illness in response to a stressor. 2. Prolonged acute critical illness. 3. Chronic crit- ical illness. 4. Recovery. In the first stage, substrates are shunted away from anab- olism and toward vital organ support and inflammatory proteins. Nutritional support at this stage remains unproven and may ultimately become detrimental. At The production and diffusion of nitric oxide (NO) (white) in the cytoplasm (green) of clusters of conifer cells one hour after mechanical agitationFigure 2 The production and diffusion of nitric oxide (NO) (white) in the cytoplasm (green) of clusters of conifer cells one hour after mechanical agitation. NO diffuses into the culture medium around cell clusters. The large dark green circle inside each cell is the nucleus. Some nuclei may contain a nucleolus (light green). The small and irregular dark areas outside the nucleus and in the cytoplasm represent the vacuoles (laser confocal photomicrograph ×400). NO was visualized with a fluorescent probe DAF-2 DA (diaminofluo- rescein diacetate). NO is derived from L-arginine and oxygen by nitric oxide synthase (NOS) activity in conifers and humans. NOS activity and the production of NO in the coni- fer cells is blocked by Nω-monomethyl-L-arginine. Page 9 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 stage 2, nutrition and metabolic support to prevent and treat multiple organ dysfunction syndromes become very important. This must be maintained to prevent the defi- ciency of water-soluble vitamins. Care must be taken not to do harm by inappropriate overfeeding. At Stadaconna, the prescribed remedy of taking the Iroquois decoction "every other day" was consistent with this purpose. The best-understood function of vitamin C is in the syn- thesis of collagen [10]. Ascorbate is required for the hydroxylation of proline residues in procollagen. Procol- lagen is secreted by fibroblasts as a complex of three cross- linked polypeptide chains. Cross-linking requires the for- mation of covalent bonds between lysine residues. The hydroxylation of proline to hydroxyproline stabilizes the triple helix structure of collagen. This contributes to the formation of fibers, which can take several months, fol- lowed by scar formation, wound contraction and healing [106]. Collagen subunits contain a prolyl 4-hydroxylase with one atom of non-heme iron [10]. This enzyme requires α- ketoglutarate and oxygen as substrates. The α-ketoglutar- ate is oxidatively decarboxylated to carbon dioxide and succinate. A remaining oxygen atom is used to hydroxy- late the proline residue in collagen. Heme iron is now oxi- dized to inactivate the enzyme. Vitamin C deficiency leads to decreased collagen secretion due to capillary fragility. This is associated with defective connective tissues, poor wound healing, and susceptibil- ity to sepsis. The synthesis of NO by a heme-containing NOS would increase the circulation of oxygen supply in blood. The lack of vitamin C reduces the hydroxylation reactions needed for the synthesis of carnitine from lysine, and for the hydroxylation of dopamine to norepinephrine. The oxidation of tetrahydrofolic acid, which maintains ade- quate levels of folic acid and keeps iron in its reduced state, would be prevented [10]. Vitamin C has nutritional value as a co-antioxidant by interacting with vitamin E [107]. In the prevention of dis- ease, intervention studies with vitamin C as an antioxi- dant have shown no clinical benefit [108]. Arginine supplementation and the availability of other amino acids, such as proline and glutamate, would spare the energy costs in ATP equivalents for their synthesis as sub- strates for collagen, and other proteins in the body [109]. In the winter, the Iroquois hunted a 'number of wild ani- mals such as fawns, stags, and bears, hares, martens, foxes, otters, and others" but they were stingy and brought Cartier's crew very few. The ice was extremely thick and the sailors were too weak to fish. They would not be seri- ously deficient in arginine as long as some meat and fish were available. Proteins are graded by "quality" on the basis of their content of essential amino acids [110], and arginine is conditionally essential. Intakes of 1 to 1.5 g protein (0.16 to 0.24 g N)/dg per d are common practice and usually advised. In healthy adults, arginine is derived from the diet, endog- enous synthesis, and turnover of body proteins. Arginine is usually ingested in diets at a rate of 3 to 5 g/d [111]. A common supplemental dose for arginine is 3 g which is taken by mouth three times a day [13,14] A kilogram of fresh spruce needles would contain 120 to 160 mg of free arginine N. More arginine would be avail- able if the arginine-rich storage proteins of conifers were digested. Protein, ingested in amounts exceeding those needed to replace body losses, is deaminated. Its nitrogen is excreted as urea in urine [110]. In cases of catabolic stress or conditions involving a dys- function of the kidneys or small intestine, the endogenous synthesis of arginine may not meet metabolic demands [20]. The availability of arginine for metabolic functions is determined by its transporters in the plasma and mito- chondrial membranes. During critical illness, gastric emp- tying would be delayed and small intestinal and colonic motility reduced [11]. The rate-controlling enzymes in arginine synthesis and catabolism are argininosuccinate synthase, arginase isozymes, NOS, arginine decarboxylase [19]. Control is expressed according to cell type, age devel- opmental stage, diet, and state of health and disease. Four enzymes use arginine as a substrate: arginine decar- boxylase, arginine:glycine amidinotransferase, arginase and its isoforms, and NOS [19-21]. The main products of the four enzymes are agmatine, guanidinoacetate and ornithine, ornithine and urea, and NO and citrulline. Arginine-derived guanidinoacetate is the immediate pre- cursor for creatine, which maintains the energy metabo- lism of muscle, nerve and testis [112]. Creatine breaks down to creatinine at a constant rate and is cleared from the body by the kidneys. In severe scurvy and in syndromes having pathological consequences, the correction of arginine deficiency could become a clinical priority. In critically ill patients, arginine maintains body homeostasis, muscle mass and function, and catabolic states [13,20]. It triggers the body to make protein, prevents the wasting, and is used in the management of wounds in the lower extremities [113]. Infectious complications become a serious problem [113,114]. Host invasion triggers an intense inflamma- tory response, which is then amplified by further pro- Page 10 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 inflammatory cascades [111]. Severe cases are character- ized by the rapid development of multiple organ failure resulting in mortality in excess of 40%. Dietary arginine supplementation helps to restore its plasma concentra- tions, boosts the immune system and helps to reduce neu- ropathy. Clinical trials have used immune-enhancing enteral feeds that combine arginine with anti-inflammatory fatty acids, antioxidants, glutamine, and nucleotides. Glutamine has a potential beneficial metabolic effect in the critically ill [11], and in the treatment of infections in trauma patients [115]. Glutamine is the principal fuel of enterocytes and lymphocytes. While doubt has been raised as to the value of arginine supplementation [11], due to the lack of its exact role in the regulation of immune functions [111], the European Society of Parenteral and Enteral Nutrition has published guidelines recommending the routine use of arginine-containing diets in surgical patients [116]. An analysis of clinical studies using enteral formulas supple- mented with arginine has suggested benefits upon out- comes from chronic and critical illness with little or no evidence of significant detrimental effects [117]. Today, vitamin and amino acid supplements have gained popularity as preventive or therapeutic agents. The exces- sive intake of high levels of a single amino acid or biofac- tor may be hazardous because of its potential for toxicity and control over genetic expressions. The effects of nutri- ents on gene expression are referred to as "nutrigenomics'. The study of the selective effects of arginine on gene expression is called 'argenomics'[19]. Did nitric oxide aid in the recovery from scurvy? While we may never know the answer to this question, the discovery of the significance of NO in the human body remains as one of the most important developments in recent medical history. In 1987, NO production from arginine was first identified in endothelial cells [118]. NO is a gas that transmits signals that are produced by one cell, penetrates through membranes, and regulates the function of another cell in humans and conifers (Figure 2). A recovery from scurvy involving NO occurs as a series of events over time. No model yet exists which integrates nutrition with vitamin C and NO in the Iroquois cure for scurvy. In the severe winter at Stadaconna, the exposure of Cartier's crew to cold, poor diet, and insufficient vitamin C, would have benefited from the nutritional values of supplemental arginine, amino acids, and antioxidants. Boreal conifers lack nitrate because acid forest soils are poor in N and tissues contain little nitrate in the absence of fertilizers [7]. Nitrates and nitrites in the decoction would not have been available for their conversion to NO by the acidic gastric juice in the stomach. Readily available free arginine remains the main N source for NO which would kill almost all bacteria that were swallowed with food. In clinical medicine and pharmacology, NO is a factor in treating intensive care patients [11-13,15,18,110,111]. In tissues, it regulates oxygen release from red blood cells. NO protects the heart, stimulates the brain, and regulates inflammation. It improves blood circulation for the pro- vision of essential amino acids, antioxidants and vitamins to tissues. NO is important for olfactory function and memory. White blood cells use NO to kill infectious bac- teria, fungi and parasites. It defends against tumors by inducing apoptosis. Dosage is critical since NO can be toxic at high concentrations. Levels of vitamin C were depleted during the severely cold winter. The mitochondria, being the responsible subcellu- lar organelles for the oxidation of dietary and remaining stored fat, would generate almost all of the energy needed by humans. The oxidation of arginine to NO and citrul- line is exothermic and occurs in mitochondria. Shivering generates body heat from muscles. Mitochondria generate most of the ATP that provides the energy for metabolism to occur. In tissues that consume ATP rapidly, such as brain, and skeletal and smooth muscle, phosphocreatine serves as an energy reservoir for the rapid regeneration of ATP [112]. Mitochondrial creatine kinase produces ATP from ADP by converting creatine phosphate to creatine in the mito- chondrial intermembrane space. Creatine kinase is rou- tinely determined in emergency patients because its elevated activity is an indication of damage to muscles, renal failure, and myocardial infarction. The oxidative reactions in mitochondria are also a major source of potentially damaging oxygen free radicals. Reactions with NO can remove these radicals, and stimulate the forma- tion of new and larger mitochondria [119], which in turn would improve body bioenergetics. Arginine is metabolized via mitochondria and in the cytosol via the urea cycle [10] (Figure 1). The cytosol makes up the cytoplasm of cells. It contains thousands of enzymes. Some act synergistically with vitamin C to pro- vide a cure for scurvy and others aid in the recovery to health. NO, formed by the turnover of body proteins and supplemented by arginine from the decoction would reduce excessive stress, provide a targeted redistribution of energy resources to the vital organs, and activate a series of early and late-expressing genes as the body recovers. At the recovery stage, NO would participate in the maintenance of long-term health. Page 11 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 Arginine, amino acids and vitamin C are absorbed into circulation by the small intestine, and carried to collagen- rich cells throughout the body. Endothelial cells, which make up the capillaries and line blood vessels and the lymph ducts, use arginine to make NO. NO diffuses into the smooth muscle cells that surround the endothelial lin- ing of blood vessels. This leads to muscle relaxation result- ing in more blood flow to tissues, brain, lungs, kidneys, liver and other vital organs. Blood pressure is lowered. Blood flow and blood vessel diameter are improved, and the formation of blood clots would be reduced and repaired. The improvement of heart function would allow more oxygen, nutrients, vitamins, and amino acids to aid in the recovery from scurvy. Improved circulation would relieve tension, sore muscles, the pain caused by swelling, and the accumulation of excess fluids in Cartier's crew and in Domagaia's legs. Wound healing would increase and mineral depletion would be reduced. NO is an important regulator in immune cells which fight infections and viruses. It aids in the killing of bacteria and engulfed pathogens found within the lysosomes of macrophages, which remove harmful cellular debris and dead cells. NO is a scavenger for cytotoxic free radicals that contribute to aging. NO, being involved in the transmission of messages between nerve cells connected with memory, sleeping and learning would support the wellness of sailors for their return to France. Human NOS has three distinct isoforms having a multi- tude of organ-specific regulatory functions [18,19,21]. A constitutive form (nNOS) is found in neural tissue, and a second constitutive form (eNOS) is found in the vascular endothelium. Both are regulated by calcium and calmod- ulin. A third calcium-independent form (iNOS) occurs in a variety of cells after induction with inflammatory medi- ators and bacterial products. During inflammation, arginine transport increases [19]. The activation of iNOS or arginase, or both, reflects the type of inflammatory response in the development of specific diseases [111]. Sepsis, which occurred in Cartier's critically ill crew, prob- ably involved a predominant role for arginine and iNOS [117]. Septic shock is a life threatening complication that can have a mortality rate of 50 to 80%. Trauma exhibits a preferential induction of arginase [111]. Arginase would reduce the arginine available as a substrate for NOS. The formation of S-nitrosothiols provides a different mode of transporting NO, offers a buffering system that regulates the bioavailability of NO, and increases the range of NO action [120]. In plants and humans, glutamine serves as an antioxidant by enhancing the levels of glutathione resulting in the formation of S-nitrosoglu- tathione [11,22,121]. Some S-nitrosothiols (S-nitroso- cysteine, S-nitrosohomocysteine) are taken up into cells via the amino acid transport system. S-Nitrosothiols are being considered as exogenous sources of NO for the treatment of NO-deficient pathological states. They are cleared to ameliorate nitrosative stress. They regulate innate immune and vascular function. S-nitrosylation may also contribute to the posttranslational modification of proteins involved in the regulation of NO action and in the recovery from scurvy. The nitrosylation of cysteine thi- ols is recognized as critical for the mechanism of NO func- tion in health and disease. Without clinical trials, it is not clear how quickly Cartier's crew would have recovered if given only vitamin C. It is evident that the decoction with vitamin C, arginine, the essential amino acids, antioxidants and other unidenti- fied biofactors integrated with NO production in the body and aided in the recovery from scurvy. Guanidino compounds as NOS regulators and metabolic markers The inappropriate release of NO is linked to the pathogen- esis of a number of disease states. High levels of NO inter- act with molecular oxygen and superoxide radicals to produce damaging peroxynitrite that modifies proteins, lipids, and nucleic acids with harmful effects [122,123]. The need to regulate NO production has led to the devel- opment of modulators and inhibitors of NOS activity [18,21,122-125]. L-arginine analogues have the advan- tage of being closely related to the substrate itself and may be taken up by amino acid transporters. The guanidino compounds that interfere with the binding of arginine to NOS have been the most extensively researched as drugs [21]. In general, guanidino-substituted L-arginine molecules are effective but they show little selectivity for the NOS isoforms. Nω-Methylations of the guanidino moiety of L- arginine have yielded potent NOS inhibitors [21]. Their use in treating septic shock provided hemodynamic stabi- lization in a large number of patients. While Nω-methyl- ated guanidino compounds have not yet been identified in conifers, they effectively inhibit NOS activity when fed to a variety of conifers [22,23,83,88,89]. L-arginine ana- logues with substitutions on their carbon chains, and lacking the α-amino group or α-carboxyl groups are inac- tive as inhibitors and as substrates for NOS. These include guanidinoacetic and γ-guanidobutyric acid. Reviews of the physiological effects of natural and syn- thetic guanidino compounds in research and clinical prac- tice are available in several books [126-128]. Among the known guanidino compounds in conifers, α-keto-δ-gua- nidinobutyric acid and γ-guanidinobutyric acid are found in nerve tissues [129] and in the urine of hyperarginemic Page 12 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 patients [130]. Agmatine, a decarboxylation product of arginine, which occurs in conifers, has various pharmaco- logical effects, but little is known about its metabolism and human physiology [19,20]. Guanidino compounds have been used as respiratory inhibitors, antibiotics, markers for metabolic disorders, and in studies of cardiovascular diseases, diabetes, and microbial activity [102,126-128]. Markers carry informa- tion about the sites and pathological cause. In uremia, guanidine, guanidinosuccinic acid and creatinine are greatly increased in biological fluids and tissues [131]. Guanidino compounds are implicated in hypertension, anaesthesia, hemorrhagic shock, seizure, renal dysfunc- tion, and immersion stress [132]. γ-Guanidinobutyric acid reacts with hydroxyl radicals and induces epileptic discharges [127]. Its transamidination precursors are γ- aminobutyric acid and arginine [129]. Guanidine and the guanidino compounds have been used to treat botulism, viral diseases, diabetes, and paraneo- plastic syndromes [132]. Evidence for mechanisms of action, dosing, pharmokinetics, cautions, interactions and clinical applications remains preliminary. Synthetic gua- nidino compounds are used in the treatment of diabetes [15]. Type II diabetes is one of the most serious health problems for Native Americans in the USA [133]. Pharma- cogenetic differences, which diminish or enhance the pre- dicted response, would indicate an inherited defect [107]. The surprisingly wide and natural diversity of chemically identified guanidino compounds in nature [134] may yet offer new biofactors and drugs in understanding ethnom- edicine, in treating diseases, and for their contribution to regimens for human wellness. Conclusion The history of the native indigenous peoples of eastern Canada has provided evidence of a culture strong enough to withstand the most difficult hardships. Their conifer- ous forests have had a pervasive influence on offering a source of food, fibre, protection, and medicinal products for human survival. In the absence of forensic evidence and apart from being a source of vitamin C, the formulary nature of the decoctions from Annedda to cure scurvy and hasten the recovery of the sailors is a story that may never be completely solved nor will it end here. We do not really know the true identity of Annedda. This tree, known today as arborvitae, has subsequently been represented by many candidate coniferous trees of life. When food was short and the winter most severe, the can- didate trees of life in eastern Canada provided a source of vitamins, arginine, proline, other conditionally and essen- tial amino acids, antioxidants, and other biofactors, which aided in the recovery from of scurvy. The discovery of vitamins and amino acids played an important role in understanding human nutrition. For the discovery of the importance of arginine-derived NO in clinical nutrition we are indebted to the investigators who were honoured by the Nobel Prize in 1998. After the transfer of the tree of life to France, old principles were now viewed in new ways. Jean Fernel (1497–1558), a foremost figure in the French Renaissance of science and medicine, broke away from the irrationality of occultism and magic that had dominated medieval natural philoso- phy and medicine [135]. His treatises on "Physiologia", first published in 1542, created debate in Europe for the next 100 years, and laid the "seeds of systems biol- ogy"[136]. To learn from history, we must transform it into a science. Clinical nutrition is now faced with a vast amount of data from the ethnobotanical and ethnomedical literature. The detailed interdisciplinary and systematic understanding of the complex interactions among anatomy, histology, pathology, neurology, nutrition, and metabolism repre- sents a modern-day challenge. The genetic loci of many controlling quantitative traits have been identified and are being compared in ill and healthy individuals [137-139]. Through genomics, argenomics, nutrigenomics, and other "omics" technologies, we expect to have a better under- standing of how the control of complex traits would aid the recovery from sickness and diseases [19]. Integrated databases are being developed to describe the toxological, pharmaceutical, nutritional and environmental effects of diets and drugs on disease [140-143]. The history of medicine and clinical practice has involved a succession of blind alleys and detours, mountains of often uninterpretable observations, and a great leap for- ward as in the discovery of vitamin C as a cure for scurvy. This review takes us centuries back, and turns our atten- tion to the combined values of arginine, NO, proline, other conditionally and essential amino acids, guanidino compounds, and antioxidants as added factors in the food and medicines of indigenous Canadian peoples. Competing interests The author declares that they have no competing interests. Acknowledgements The author in indebted to Mary Moore (1978) at Petawawa regarding the identity of Annedda. W. B. Stewart (1976) at Fredricton NB, G. DuLong (1977) at Quebec, and Kat Anderson at Davis (2008) provided manuscripts and references on food sources, medicines and cures used by indigenous peoples in eastern Canada. Research cited in this review was supported by the Canadian Forestry Service (1966 to 1972) at Petawawa and Ottawa, by the University of California's McIntyre-Stennis funds (1990 to 1993) for analytical work with guanidino compounds, and NASA (NG 9–825) (1996– 1998) for the research on NO and paclitaxel in simulated microgravity. Page 13 of 16 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Ethnobiology and Ethnomedicine 2009, 5:5 http://www.ethnobiomed.com/content/5/1/5 References 1. Burrage HS, Ed: Early English and French Voyages, from Hakluyt 1534– 1608 New York: Barnes and Noble; 1906. 2. Rousseau J: L'Annedda et l'arbre de vie. 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Sir Paul Nurse, Cancer Research UK Your research papers will be: available free of charge to the entire biomedical community peer reviewed and published immediately upon acceptance cited in PubMed and archived on PubMed Central yours — you keep the copyright Submit your manuscript here: http://www.biomedcentral.com/info/publishing_adv.asp BioMedcentral 104. van Thoai N: Nitrogen bases. In Comprehensive Biochemistry: Lipids and Amino Acids and Related Compounds Volume 6. Edited by: Florkin M, Stotz EH. Amsterdam: Elsevier; 1965:208-253. 105. Matsuda H, Suzuki Y: γ-Guanidinobutyraldehyde dehydroge- nase of Vicia faba leaves. Plant Physiology 1984, 76:654-657. 106. McChance KL, Huether SE: Pathophysiology. The Biological Basis for Dis- ease in Adults and Children St. Louis: Mosby; 1998. 107. Fürst P: The role of antioxidants in nutritional support. Pro- ceedings of Nutrition Society 1996, 55:945-961. 108. 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Boelens PG, Houdijk APJ, Fonk JCM, Nijveldt RJ, Ferwerda CC, Von Blomberg-Van der Flier , Thijs LG, Haarman HJT, Puyana JC, Van Leeuwen PAM: Glutamine-enriched enteral nutrition increases HLA-DR expression on monocytes of trauma patients. Journal of Nutrition 2002, 132:2580-2586. 112 116. Schutz T, Valentini I, Herbst B, Lochs H: European Society for Clinical Nutrition and Metabolism. ESPEN guidelines on enteral nutrition: summary. Zeitschrift Gastroenterologie 2006, 44:683-684. 117. Zaloga GP, Siddiqui R, Terry C, Marik PE: Arginine: mediator or modulator of sepsis. Nutrition in Clinical Practice 2004, 19:201-215. 118. Ignarro IJ, Buga GM, Wood KS, Byrns RE, Chaudhuri G: Endothe- lium-derived relaxing factor produced and released from artery and vein is nitric oxide. Proceedings National Academy Sci- ences USA 1987, 84:9265-9269. 119. Nisoli E, Clementi E, Paolucci C, Cozzi V, Tonello C, Sciorati C, Bra- cale R, Valerio A, Francolini M, Moncada S, Carruba MO: Mitochon- drial biogenesis in mammals: The role of endogenous nitric oxide. Science 2003, 299:896-899. 120. Zhang Y, Hogg N: S-Nitrosothiols: cellular formation and transport. Free Radical Biology and Medicine 2005, 7:831-838. 121. Corpas FJ, Carreras A, Esteban FJ, Chaki M, Valerrama R, del Rio LA, Barroso JB: Localization of S-nitrosothiols and assay of nitric oxide synthase and S-nitrosoglutathione reductase activity in plants. Methods in Enzymol 2008, 427:561-573. 122. Pryor WA, Squadrito GL: The chemistry of peroxynitrite: a product from the reaction of nitric oxide with superoxide. American Journal Physiology – Lung Cellular and Molecular Physiology 1995, 268:L699-L722. 123. Pryor WA, Houk KN, Foote CS, Fukuto JM, Ignarro LJ, Squadrito , Davies KJA: Free radical biology and medicine: it's a gas, man! American Journal Physiology – Regulatory, Integrative and Comparative Physiology 2006, 291:R491-R511. 124. Alderton WK, Cooper CE, Knowles RG: Nitric oxide synthases: structure, function and inhibition. Biochemical Journal 2001, 357:593-615. 125. Lefèvre-Groboillot D, Boucher J-L, Stuehr DJ, Mansuy D: Relation- ship between the structure of guanidines and N-hydroxygua- nidines, their binding to inductible nitric oxide synthase (iNOS) and their iNOS-catalyzed oxidation to NO. Federation of Experimental and Biological Sciences Journal 2005, 272:3172-3183. 126. Clark JF, Ed: Guanidino compounds in Biology and Medicine. Molecular and Cellular Biochemistry 2003, 244(1 and 2):204. 127. Mori A, Cohen BD, Koide H, Eds: Guanidines 2. Further Explorations of the Biological and Clinical Significance of Guanidino Compounds New York: Plenum Press; 1989. 128. Mori A, Ishida M, Clark JF, Eds: Guanidino compounds in Biology and Medicine 5th edition. London: Blackwell; 1999. 129. Pisano JJ, Chozo M, Udenfriend S: Biosynthesis of γ-guanidinobu- tyric acid from γ-aminobutyric acid and arginine. Nature 1957, 180:1125-1126. 130. De Deyn P, Macdonald R, Marescau R, Lowenthal A: α-Keto-δ-gua- nidinobutyric acid, a compound isolated from hyperarginine- mic patients, displays epileptogenic activities. In Guanidines 2. Further Explorations of the Biological and Clinical Significance of Guanidino Compounds Edited by: Mori A, Cohen BD, Koide H. New York, Ple- num Press; 1989:251-257. 131. Vanholder R, Schepers E, Meert N, Lameire N: What is uremia? Retention versus oxidation. Blood Purification 2006, 24:33-38. 132. Beers MH, Ed: The Merck Manual of Diagnosis and Therapy 18th edition. Whitehouse Station New Jersey: Merck Research Laboratories; 2006:1152-1153. 133. Oubré AY, Carlson TJ, King SR, Reaven GM: From plant to patient: an ethnomedical approach to the identification of new drugs for the treatment of NIDDM. Diabetologia 1997, 40:614-617. 134. 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Fiehn O: Combining genomics, metabolome analysis, and bio- chemical modeling to understand metabolic networks. Com- parative Functional Genetics 2001, 2:155-168. 142. Watkins SM, German B: Toward the implementation of metab- olomic assessments of human health and nutrition. Current Opinions Biotechnology 2002, 13:512-516. 143. Nicholson JK, Lindon JC: Metabonomics. Nature 2008, 455:1054-1056. 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http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=7762673 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=11463332 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=11463332 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=13483626 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=16361838 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=16361838 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=9165233 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=9165233 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=9165233 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=16047049 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=12388887 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=12388887 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=15269782 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=15269782 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=11389460 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=11389460 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=12459346 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=12459346 http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/entrez/query.fcgi?cmd=Retrieve&db=PubMed&dopt=Abstract&list_uids=18948945 http://www.biomedcentral.com/ http://www.biomedcentral.com/info/publishing_adv.asp http://www.biomedcentral.com/ Abstract Background The recovery from scurvy in Jacques Cartier's crew in 1536 Identities of Annedda and the trees of life Conifer decoctions for the treatment of scurvy Food sources and medicines used by indigenous peoples in Canada Arginine and amino acids in overwintering conifers Arginine as a source of nitric oxide in conifers Guanidino compounds derived from arginine in conifers Nutritional support in treating scurvy and critical illness Did nitric oxide aid in the recovery from scurvy? Guanidino compounds as NOS regulators and metabolic markers Conclusion Competing interests Acknowledgements References 
work_4phwimo3tfbc3lhfnmvsespr7a	----	10.11588/fr.1980.0.49946 Rosamond McKitterick THE STUDY OF FRANKISH HISTORY IN FRANCE AND GERMANY IN THE SIX- TEENTH AND SEVENTEENTH CENTURIES > I have decided that it would be better to record the cvents which are happening in our own time myself, for the information of posterity . . . rather than allow the extraordinary life of the most remarkable king, the greacest man of those living in his own period, to sink into the shades of oblivion, together with his outstanding achievements which can scarcely be matched by modern man<.' So, between 829 and 836, wrote Einhard in the preface to his biography of Charlemagne, king of the Franks, some twenty years after the ruler's death. Einhard was among the first to write of the deeds of the great Frankish king;1 2 he had known Charlemagne personally and had lived at the royal court. He attempted therefore to give a factua! and truthful account of what he knew.3 Even by the end of the ninth Century, however, when the >monk of St Gall< wrote his »Gesta Caroli Magni«, much that was legendary had crept into the story. Charlemagne is represented as the monarch whose valour, sense of justice, wisdom and strength served both to act as an ideal of the great monarch and to typify the glorious era of his rule.4 By the time the »Chanson de Roland« was written down at the end of the elcventh Century, Charlemagne had become a great hieratic figure, wo centuries old and with a flowing snowy beard, a holy Emperor and Champion of Christendom against the infidel, the mighty warlord whose conquests embraccd the civilized world.* Charlemagne as the epic hcro, most Christian prinec and Emperor of the Western World figured prominently in both French and German epic poetry and he was also the object of a liturgical cult in Europe which was widespread after his canonization by Pope Alexander III in 1165.4 6 In the annals and chronicles on the other hand, from the royal Frankish annals and the chronicles of Ado of Vienne, Aimon of Flcury, Regino of Prum and Sigebert of Gcmbloux in the ninth, tenth and cleventh centuries to Johannes Trithemius in the fifteenth Century, there is a rather more sober and historical account of the history of the Franks and the exploits of the Carolingian kings.7 Nevcrthclcss, many of these 1 Einhard, Vita Karoli Magni ed. R. Rau, Quellen zur karolingischen Reichsgeschichte I, Darmstadt 1974, p. 164-6, transl. L. Thorpe, Two Lives of Charlemagne, London 1969, pp. 51-2. 2 Apart from the authors of the various annals of course, such as Annalcs Mcttenscs Priores, cd. B. von Simson, MGH SS i. u. 5-, Hannover 1905, and Annales regnum Francorum, ed. R. Rau, Quellen zur Karolingischen Reichsgeschichte I, pp. 9-155. 3 See F. L. Ganshof, L’historiographic dans la monarchie Franquc sous Ics Mcrovingicns et Carolin­ giens, in: Settimane di Studio del Centro Italiano sulP alto Medioevo XVII, Spolcto 1970, pp. 631-85, who vindicates Einhard’s authority as an hisiorical source. 4 Notker Babulus, Gesta Karoli Magni, cd. R. Rau, Quellen zur karolingischen Reichsgcschichte III, pp. 322-427. 4 The epic of pseudo-Turpin, Historia Karoli Magni et Rotholandi was also very populär, and was translated into Old French, Catalan, Provencal, Anglo-Norman,- Welsh and Irish. See for example D. Hyde (ed.), Gabaltas serluis moir, London 1917 (Irish Texts Society). 6 R. Folz, Etudes sur lc culte liturgique de Charlemagne dans l’Eglise de l’Empire, Paris 1951. 7 Ado of Vienne (800-873) Chronicon, PL 123 and see W. Kremers, Ado von Vienne. Sein Leben und seine Schriften, Stcyl 1911; Aimon of Fleury (c. 950-1008) Historia Francorum, PL 139, Regino of Prüm (d. 915) ed. R. Rau, Quellen zur karolingischen Reichsgcschichte III; Flodoard, Annales, MGH SS III and Historia Rcmensis ccclcsiae, MGH SS XIII; Sigebert of Gembloux (1080-1112), Chronicon ed. The Study of Frankish History 557 chroniclers drew material from each other; there was little critical historiography and only the most elementary study of the sources, so that their picture of both the Franks and the Carolingian kings was sometimes as fanciful and idealized as that of the epic poets.1 The Franks were claimed as the ancestorsof French, German and Austrian alike, and the Frankish kings the ancestors of Emperors. The twenty-seven large woodcuts, intended to be pasted together to form a long scroll and printed by Robert Peril in 1535 for example, depicted a tall genealogical tree illustrating the descent of the Emperors of Austria from the Frankish kings Pharamond, Clodio, Merovech and Clovis.1 The Carolingians were obviously far from being forgotten during the Middle Ages but it was the historical Charlemagne and his Franks who were rediscovered in the sixteenth Century, and that discovery is closely connected with the general development of the study of mediaevai history in Europe.’* Even a cursory look at much of the historiographical work of Renaissance and Reformation Europe reveals a lively interest in the Middle Ages, and in France and Germany at least it was Frankish history which received much of the attention. Although the populär stories about Charlemagne continued to be written well after the beginning of the sixteenth Century, and some of the most celebrated of epic poems, such as Le Laboureur's »Charlemagne« (Paris 1664 and 1666) and Cointin’s »Charlemagne et le retablissement de l’Empire roman« (Paris 1666) and »Charlemagne Penitent« (Paris 1687) were written in the seventeenth Century fully in the mediaevai tradition,8 9 10 11 it is with the growth of scholarly and antiquarian interest in the Franks, both Merovingian and Carolingian, that 1 shall be concerned in this article. French historical writing of the sixteenth Century was directly related to the critical spirit of Italian Renaissance scholarship, and in particular to the methods of textual criticism and philology elaborated by such scholars as Lorenzo Valla and Poggio Bracciolini. The Reforma­ tion also roused a passionate interest in ecclesiastical history and the development of doctrine; mediaevai theology was searched for incipient signs of Protestant principles and the mediaevai period bccame a favourite hunting ground for polemicist and scholar alike. Perhaps the best example of a Carolingian source seized on with joy by the Protestants and placed on the Index by the Catholics (where it remained until 1900) is the treatise known as the »Libri Carolini«, written by Theodulph, bishop of Orleans at the end of the eighth Century." The Paris manuscript of the »Libri Carolini«, now Paris, Bibliotheque de I*Arsenal lat. 663, was L. C. Bethmann, MGH SS VI; Abbas uspergensis Chronicon Universale MGH SS VI; Widukind of Corvey, Res Gestae Saxonicac, MGH SS III; J. Trithcmius (1462-1516) Compendium sive breviarium primi voluminis annalium sive historiarum de origine regum et gentis Francorum, Mainz 1515. 8 R. Folz, Le Souvenir et la legende de Charlemagne dans l’Empire germanique medievale, Paris 1950, and W. Braunfei^ (ed.), Karl der Grosse, in: Lebenswerk und Nachleben, IV: Das Nachlebcn, Düsseldorf 1965. 3 Robert Peril, La Genealogie et descente de la Tres illustre maison Dautriche, Antwerp 1535. Editions of the scroll appeared in French (1537), Latin (1540), Spanish (1540) and Dutch ($. d.) 9* And indeed with the development of the concept of the Middle Ages in European ihought. The important and exhaustive book by Jürgen Voss, Das Mittelalter im Historischen Denken Frankreichs. Untersuchung zur Geschichte des Mittclaltcrbcgriffcs und der Mittclaltcrbewertung von der zweiten Hälfte des 16. bis zur Mitte des 19. Jahrhunderts (Munich 1972)cspccially pp. 101-80, w ith its uscful Identification of the four main intellectual currents in the evaluation of the Middle Ages, provides an essential context for the subjcct under discussion hcrc. 10 David Maskell, The Historical Epic in France 1500-1700, Oxford 1973. 11 The most reccnt edition of Libri Carolini, sive Caroli Magni Capitulare de Inuginibiis is by H. Baethgen, MGH Conc. II Supplement (1924). Ann Freeman, »Theodulph of Orleans and the Libri Carolini<, in: Spcculum 32 (1957) pp. 663-705 discusses the authorship and history of this treatise. 558 Rosamond McKitterick discovered in a French cathedral library by du Till« who published it in 1549.12 It was welcomed by the Protestants as an impressive source of support from the past for their Opposition to images. Calvin in particular cited it in all the Genevan editions of his »Institutes«.13 Church histories such as those of Baronius and Flacius Illyricus incorporated a great deal conceming the early middle ages and included much hitherto unpublished source material. Baronius, for example, was the first to print any of the papal letters from the early Carolingian period contained in the unique copy of the »Codex Carolinus«, now Vienna ms lat. 449. Generally however, the interest of the church historians was in Europe as a whole rather than in the Frankish kingdoms alone.14 Early attempts in the sixteenth Century in France to write histories of the Franks and French drew part of their impulse from a sense of the past as a living legacy, a tradition that was still alive. The Carolingians were a vital part of that tradition. Charles Dumoulin for example, addressing Henri II in 1552 observed >It is well known that in fact the most noble, virtuous and wise Charlemagne . . . and Louis the Pious . . . transmitted to you not less but equal and identical power and authority along with the same crown, and that these things are clearly indivisible and inseparable. The ancient ordinances of the said Charlemagne and Louis the Pious still exist in the registers of your sovereign parlement and chambre des comptes and in many authentic books<.15 For Dumoulin Charlemagne symbolized national unity; he had legitimized feudal custom, had provided precedents for the Gallican church and established the French monarchy. Dumoulin’s words also express another absorbing interest of his contemporaries, an interest in the history of .the institutions of France, the precedents for royal rights and obligations, and the origins of French law. The first historians were predominantly men trained at the law schools of Orleans and Bourges under Alciato and TEtoile, members of the gens du robe and of either the Paris or provincial parlementMuch of their writing has to be seen against the turbulent background of the French Wars of Religion. Many of these historians were Huguenots, and their writing is distinguished by the use they made of their historical knowledge to formulate politica! arguments. Perhaps the most cohcrent and impressive of the Huguenots was Francois Hotman (1524-90), with Beza the principal progenitor of Huguenot political thought, whose treatise »Francogallia«, first published in 1573, was a remarkable exposition of the history of the Frankish Constitution. It was designed to establish beyond doubt the antiquity of the public council of the nation, >in later times called the assembly of the 12 Jean du Tillet, bishop of Meaux and his brother du Tillct, Sieur de la Bussiere published a numbcr of works relating to the history of the Franks. Jean du Tillet produced the Chronicon de regibus Francorum ad Henricum 11, Paris 1548; translated into French almost immediately as La Chronique des Roys de France. Le Catalogue des Papes. Catalogues des Empereurs, Paris 1550. The Sieur de la Bussiere produced the »Recueil des roys de France«, Paris 1586. 13 J. Calvin, Institutio christianae religionis, Geneva 1550, etc. 14 Caesar Baronius, Annales ecclesiastici 12 volumes, Rome 1588-1607; Flacius Illyricus (Vlacic) Historia integram ecclesiae christi ideam secundum centurias complectcns 13 volumes, Basle 1559-1574. A succinct account of historical writing from the sixteenth Century onwards conceming mediacval history is to be found in R. C. van Caenegem's excellent handbook, Guide to the Sourccs of Medieval History, Amsterdam 1978. See too Donald R. Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship, New York and London 1970 and J. Voss, Das Mittelalter im Historischen Denken Frankreichs. 15 C. du Moulin, Commentarius ad edictum Henrici secundi contra parvas datas et ab usus curiae Romanae, Lyon 1552, preface transl. Donald R. Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship, New York and London 1970, p. 171. His book: Premiere partie du traicte de l’origine, progres et excellcnce du royaume et monarchie des Francoys et couronne de France, Lyons 1561, asserted the relevance of Frankish institutions to the study of feudalism. Voss too thinks that in this »rechtshistorische Schule« are to be seen the real beginnings of research into the medieval period, Das Mittelalter im Historischen Denken Frankreichs (note 9a) pp. 111-125, and scc his references p. 112, n. 4. The Study of Frankish History 559 three estates<, which had originated in the fifth Century with the assimilation of Franks and Gauls into the nation of »Francogallia.«“ Hotman was a jurisconsult and had written treatises on feudalism and Roman law before embarking on the »Francogallia«.* 17 Like many of his contemporarics, Hotman attempted to prove the derivation of the consultative assembly and the dependence of the king upon his people from Frankish tradition. In »Francogallia« for example his chapters discussed whether the kingdom of Francogallia was hereditary or elective (c. 6) and the custom appropriate to the election of kings and the supreme power of the people in condemning and deposing kings for known cause (c. 7). He discussed at length the deposition of the last Merovingian king Childeric III and the Substitution of the Carolingian Pippin in 751, and concluded that it was not the Pope who had constituted Pippin king but a national assembly.11 The cases of the deposition from or elevation to the throne of Louis the Pious, Charles the Simple, Odo and Charles the Fat, and the final takeover by the Capetians were also considered.'9 As well as the political polemic of Hotman’s treatise, his use of the primary sources and the wide ränge of his knowledge are impressive. He always cites his authorities very carefully and by name; for the Carolingian period he used Einhard’s life of Charlemagne, the capitulary collection by Ansegisus, the »Lex Salica«, »Lex Ripuaria« and »Leges Alemannorum«, the chronicles of Ado of Vienne, Regino of Prum, Flodoard’s history of Rheims and Paul the Deacon’s history of the Lombards.20 He has been accused of distorting his sources sometimesto suit his argument. Giesey and Salmon, Hotman’s editors, note for example Hotman’s quotation from Aimon of Fleury’s Chronicle in the 1573 edition of the »Francogallia« where the Franks raised up (erigunt) Theuderic as king, which in the second edition in 1576 bccomes the Franks elected (eligunt) Theuderic as king.21 On the whole however Hotman read his authorities critically and treated them with respect. Hotman’s insistence on the authority of the sources was paralleled in the work of his contemporaries, who not only possessed a lively curiosity about the history of France but also developed the historical method which distinguished their histories once and for all from the mediaeval chronicle, for they made the essential distinction between primary and secondary authorities. Despite their work there were still some htterati who were reproducing the mediaeval accounts straight from the chronicles, such as Nicolas Gilles, secretary to Louis XII, in a book with a charming title which expressed his approach to perfection: »Les tres elegantes, trcs veridiques et copieuses annales des tres pieux, tres nobles, tres chrestien et trcs exccllens modcrateurs des belliqueuses Gaules« (Paris 1569). His stress was on cohercnt narrative rather than on any critical appraisal of his material. Among those who evolved the new historical method were Francois Baudouin (whom Hotman detested) and his two greatest disciplcs, Papire Masson and Pierre Pithou. Their “ Francois Hotman, Francogallia, Geneva 1573, cd. and transl. R. E. Giesey and J.H.M. Salmon, Francois Hotman Francogallia, Cambridge 1972. 17 F. Hotman, Defeudiscommentariotripertita, Lyon 1573, and ld.,Commentarium inquatuor Libros institutionum iuris civilis, Basle 1560, and Id., Justiniani imperatoris vita, Strasbourg 1556. 11 Giesey and Salmon point out in their edition of »Francogallia« (note 16) p. 47, that in »De l eudis« Hotman accordcd Pippin the initiative in persuading Pope Zacharias to deposc Childeric and there is no mention of the public council. 19 Giesey and Salmon (note 16) p. 56. 20 For dctails about the late tifteenth and early sixteenth Century editions of Frankish texts see G. Monod, Du progres des etudes historiques en France depuis le XVIe siccle, in: Revue Historique I (1876) pp. 5-38, W. Levison and H. Löwe, Deutschlands Gcschichtsquellen im Mittelalter 1 Vorzeit und Karolinger, Weimar 1953 pp. 1-9, and bclow pp. 561-563. Hotman’s probable sources are listed in GtESEY and Salmon’s Bibliography, but unfortunately only in their modern editions. 21 Hotman, Francogallia, cd. Giesey and Salmon (note 16), p. 230. 560 Rosamond McKitterick interest, in contrast to Hotman, was more historical than political, and they developed an historical approach to the law and its relevance to past and present in which techniques and principles were gradually formulated. Baudouin, a lawyer and member of the gens du robe, considered that the French, English, Germans, Spanish and Italians ought not to be ignorant of the Franks, Anglo-Saxons, Goths and Lombards. He insisted on the importance of the primary sources and made a point of stating that he had visited the royal archives; his history of the Angevin house, commissioned in 1568 but never completed, was intended to be a critical history, based on legal and documentary records as well as on the accounts of the chroniclcrs.22 His main work, published in 1561, discussed the importance of the law and jurisprudence in the development of historical institutions.23 Papire Masson (1544-1611), Baudouin’s pupil, published his great work, the »Annales Francorum«, in 1577, and dedicated it to Henri 111. In his preface Masson professed his wish to devise an historical method of working with the primary sources.24 To this end his history, divided into four books covering the Merovingian, Carolingian, Capetian and Valois kings, drew largely on original material. His account is stuffed with extracts, usually acknowledged, from Contemporary chronicles, diplomas, letters and poetry. Not only did he work from published material, using the editions made in the first half of the Century, he also sought out manuscripts of unpublished material. Apart from his own collection, a number of his friends possessed rieh libraries and six of the works cited in the »Annales«, induding the annals of the abbey of St Denis and Flodoard's history of Rheims written at the end of the ninth Century, came from Jean St Andreas library at Notre Dame. In another library he found a manuscript of the poetry of Sedulius Scotus, he quoted from a manuscript containing Carolingian capitularics, a copy of the collection made by Ansegisus in 826, and obtained a manuscript of the letters of Lupus, abbot of Ferneres. Like many of his fellow savants Masson used the royal library and found there among other treasures the original, now apparently lost, of the famous letter from Pope John VIII to Charles the Bald about becoming Emperor.25 This he published for the first time in his »Annalcs«. Masson did a great deal to rescue the Carolingians from the cloud of myth and sentiment which surrounded them; he was one of the first to deny that Charlemagne had founded the University of Paris. He studied all his sources critically in Order to cvaluate their reliability and was furthermore one of the first to emphasize the importance of linguistic texts, in particular that of the famous Strasbourg oaths of 842.2e* The »Annales Francorum« seem to have enjoyed considerable popularity and copies of it are to be found in many of the sixteenth and sevcntccnth Century libraries of Europe, often heavily annotated. The Cambridge University Library copy belonged to John Moore, Bishop of Norwich and then Ely, who died in 1714. The greatest contributions made by Pierre Pithou, Baudouin's other great pupil, to Frankish and early mediaeval studies were the texts he edited from manuscripts (many of them in his own possession) such as Salvian, Paul the Deacon’s history of the Lombards, the laws of the 22 Donald R. Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship, New York and London 1970, pp. 116-48 and pp. 144-5. 23 F. Baudouin, De institutione historiae universae et eius cum iurisprudentia coniunctione prolegome- non, Paris 1561. 24 Papire Masson, Annalium libri quatuor quibus res gestae Francorum explicantur, Paris 1577. The only full length study of Masson is P. Ronzy, Un humaniste italisant, Papire Masson 1544-1611, Paris 1924. " MGH Epp VII p. 302, No. 47. 24 Another who published the oaths was Claude Fauchet, Recueil des Antiquitez gauloises et fran^oiscs, Paris 1579. The Study of Frankish History 561 Visigoths and the legislation of Charlemagne, Louis the Pious and Charles the Bald.27 His most enterprising and innovatory works were his two collections of mediaeval sources, which included letters and capitularies as well as narrative sources, and which were intended by him to act as aids in the writing of history.21 Pithou was primarily a philologist, and perhaps more interested in collecting and editing the sources than in writing history. Yet he regarded the historian as a critical scholar, who had to analyze chronicles and histories as well as non­ narrative material. Part of Pithou’s function as procurateur general to Henri III was to look after the royal archive and library, which put him in an excellent position for his work; he was himself something of a bibliophile and gathered together a rieh collection of books. So too did Pithou’s great friend Antoine Loisel. Loisel edited the »Annales Laurissenses Maiores«, now known as the Royal Frankish Annals, from a manuscript in his library.* Etienne Pasquier, a member of Pithou’s circle of friends and colleagues w hich included most of the scholars, antiquaries and bibliophiles of his day, w'as, like Hotman, primarily concemed with an attempt to define the French Constitution and France itsclf. Behind his work was the conviction that all the relics of the past were aspects of a country’s civilization and culture and therefore relevant to its history. He applied the historical methods of the philologists and jurists developed by Baudouin and Masson to every kind of historical evidence and outiined his principles in a book whose title, »Recherches de la France«, gave a new name to the historical method he and his colleagues advocated.'c His interest in the Franks prompted him to contribute to some of the vexed questions of Frankish history. Like Masson he refuted the legend that Charlemagne had founded the University of Paris and also questioned the ancient myth, popularized by >Fredegar« in the seventh Century, about the Trojan origins of the Franks. The legend was morc or less completely discredited by the sixteenth Century scholars, yet this was soon forgotten and the Trojan myth found so much favour later on that in 1714 Nicolas Freret was thrown into the Bastille for demonstrating, at a private meeting of the *Academie des Inscriptions« in Paris, that the Franks were of Germanic origin.'1 Even in the sixteenth Century there were determined advocates of the Trojan origins of the Franks, such as Guillaume Postei, the title of whose book, »L'Histoire memorable des expeditions depuis le deluge faictes par les Gaulois ou les Francois«, speaks for itself.52 A word nceds to be said concerning the early printed editions of sources, dating from the first Century of printing, used by these scholars. Papire Masson made use of material still in manuscript, and so, occasionally, did Francois Hotman (in the third edition of his *Francogal- lia«), but for the most part historians limited themsclves to printed texts. As far as historical sources were concerned the first scholar who edited texts unaltered from manuscripts w^as 21 His cdiiion of Salvian, Salvianus Massiliensis, De gubernatione Dei et de iusto praesentique eius iudicio libri XVIII, Paris 1580, was ccrtainly edited from a manuscript in his possession. 29 P. Pithou, Annalium et historiae Francorum ab anno Christi DCCVIII ad annum DCCCCXC scriptores coaetanei XII, Paris 1588; Historiae Francorum ab anno Christi DCCC ad annum MCCLXXXV, Frankfurt 1596. * Loisel is perhaps best rcmcmbcrcd for his »Institutes Coutumicrs«, first published in Paris in 1605 and edited M. Reulos, Paris 1935. See too M. Reulos, Etüde sur Pesprit, les sources et la methode des Institutes Coutumicrs d'Antoine Loisel, Paris 1935. •'° E. Pasquier, Rcchcrchcs de la France, Paris 1560. On Pasquier sce G. Hutpert, »Naissance de Phistoire de France: les »Rcchcrches« d'Esticnne Pasquier, Annalcs 23 (1968) pp. 6^-105, Donald R. Kel- ley, Foundations (notc 22) pp. 271-300, and Voss, Das Mittelalter im historischen Denken Frankreichs (note 9a) pp. 105-6. 51 On the question of the Trojan origin of the Franks sce G. HurrERT, The Trojan Franks and their critics, in: Studics in the Renaissance 12 (1965) pp. 227-41 and Id., The Idcaof Perfect History: Historical crudition and historical philosophy in Renaissance France, Illinois 1970. M Paris 1552. 562 Rosamond McKitterick Guilelmus Parvus, usualiy known as Guillaume Petit (d. 1526), a Dominican friar from Normandy who had been in charge of the royal library at Blois under Franjois 1 and thus had access to many ancient manuscripts. In 1509 he became Louis XIPs confessor. Among the early mediaeval texts he edited were the »Historia Langobardorum« of Paul the Deacon, publishedin Paris in 1514, Gregory of Tours« »Historiae Francorum« and the Chronicle of Ado of Vienne, published in Paris in 1512, and Aimon of Fleury's »De regum Francorum« (1514), the chronicles of Liutprand of Cremona (Paris 1514) and Sigebert of Gembloux (Paris 1515) and the »Historiae persecutione Wandalicae« (Paris s. d.) of Victor Vitensis.33 34 Other editions, mostiy published in Cologne, Basle and Strasbourg included Einhard’s »Vita et Gesta Karoli Magni« and the »Annales Regni Francorum« edited by Hermann von Neuenar (Cologne 1521); in 1561 another edition of the »Annales« came out. The second book of the chronicle of Freculph of Lisieux which covers the years from the Incarnation to the establishment of the Frankish kingdoms was edited and printed by Novesianus in Cologne in 1539. Another, and better, edition of Paul the Deacon, edited by Conrad Peutinger, appeared a year after that of Petit and was printed at Augsburg in 1515, together with Jordanes* »History of the Goths«, a further edition of Paul the Deacon was made by Galienus in 1532.* Sebastian von Rotenhau published the first edition of Regino of Prüm at Mainz in 1521, while the prose Version of the »Visio Wettini« by Haito of Basle, was edited by the French humanist Jacques Lefevre d’Etaples (1450-1536) in Paris in 1513 together with five other accounts of visions.35 A work by Walafrid Strabo, his charming poem »Hortulus«, was printed by Joachim Vadianus in Vienna in 1510 from a manuscript at St Gail; Vadianus included two of the »Aenigmata« of Aldhelm of Malmesbury from the same manuscript.36 A rather curious Carolingian text printed at a very early stage was the deplorable poem by Hucbald of St Amand, the 136 hexameter »Ecloga de Calvis« in which every word begins with C, which was published as a separate pamphlet at Mainz in 1496 by Johannes Trithemius, presumably as a curiosity. The famous acrostic poem, »De Laudibus sanctae crucis« of Hrabanus Maurus, despite the difficulty of setting the type, was edited by Jakob Wimpheling and printed in black and red by Thomas Anshelm of Pforzheim in 1503. Other Carolingian texts printed were mostiy theological, such as the »Libri tres de cultu imaginum* of Jonas of Orleans printed in Cologne in 1554 and Antwerp in 1567, the homilies and exegesis attributed to Haimo of Halberstadt in many different editions, the commentaries of Paschasius Radbertus and his treatise on the Eucharist published in 1502 and 1550 respec- tively,37 * and the exegetical and didactic treatises of Hrabanus Maurus.Alcuin’s exegesis, his treatise on the Trinity and the homilies on the Gospels once attributed to him were all published in the third decade of the sixteenth Century but it was not until the eighteenth Century that Alcuin’s letters were published by Frohen.39 One collection of Carolingian Ictters published, no 33 E. P. Goldschmidt, Mediaeval Texts and their first appearance in print, London 1943, pp. 71-73. 34 As an Appendix IX to his edition of Eutropius, Basle 1532. 35 Liber trium virorum et trium spiritualium virginum, Paris 1513. 36 Now Vat. reg. lat. 469. 37 Paschasius Radbertus, Commentaria in Lamentationibus, Jeremiac, prophetac, Basle 1502, and De Corpore et sanguine Domini ed. N. Mameranus, Cologne 1550. 31 Hrabanus Maurus, Commentaria in Hiercmiam, Basle 1534, De clcricorum institutione et ccrcmoniis ecclesiae ex Veteri et Novo Testamento libri III, Cologne 1532, De Sacramcnto Eucharistiae, Cologne 1551, in: Ecclcsiasticum commentarii, Paris 1544. 39 Alcuin De Trinitate, Strasbourg 1530, In D. Ioannis Evangclio, Strasbourg 1527, In Ecclcsiasten, Basle 1531, In Gencsim, Hagenau 1529, In septem psalmos poscnitentialcs et CXVII1 psalmu et in Cantica graduum expositio. Drogonis de sacramcnto dominicac passionis commentatiuncula, Paris 1547, Homilic doctorum ecclesiasticorum in cvangelia dominicalia ac temporanea, opera Alchuini, Lyons 1520, 1525 ctc., Epistolae cd. Proben, Regensburg 1777. The Study of Frankish History 563 doubt due to Masson’s discovery of them, was that of Lupus, abbot of Ferneres,40 but as yet no other letter collections were printed. Those of Hincmar of Rheims for example were published in the next Century at Mainz.41 The resources of the sixteenth Century historians therefore were by no means meagre, even though they were limited. The fashion for finding and >editing< texts, even if, as in the case of the plays of Hrosvita discovered by Conrad Celtis, editing the text often consisted simply in handing the (in this case tenth Century) manuscript itself, in which Conrad had helpfully written titles and headings, to the printer so that the compositors set their type up from the original,42 meant that a good deal of historical material was made more readily available in the course of the sixteenth Century. Pierre Pithou and Andre Duchesne contributed greatly to the body of material in print concerning the Franks with their collections of sources, but the critical edition was not yet a feature of historical scholarship. The sixteenth Century in France generally was an age of secular scholars and individuals, lawyers and men of affairs, who used their classical, humanistic, education and their legal training to investigate the history of French institutions, the Gallican church and the French nation.42* They combined erudition with the writing of history and often used their historical knowledge to Support and illustrate their political views. In some ways their devotion to the history of France was a natural development from the enthusiastic production of French chronicles in the second half of the fifteenth Century, a production all for the glory of France, to which the large number of French incunables containing chronicles of French history witnesses. Hotman, Masson, Pithou, Pasquier, Baudouin and their contemporaries, such as Roben Gauguin who had published his *De Origine et gestis francorum« at Lyons in 1497, Jean Bodin and his »Methodus«,4* Vignier and his »Bibliotheque Historiale« of 1587,44 45 * Andre Duchesne and his collection of source material,4' Le Roy, Du Tillet, Du Haillan the Historiographer Royal who believed the maturity of French civilisation to have been in the Carolingian period, La Popeliniere who developed a theory of historiography, Cujas and Loisel, all illustrate the nature of French Renaissance historical scholarship.44 TTie Franks had been restablished as true and inspiring ancestors of the French. Through their sons and pupils, much that these scholars had established as far as method and principles of critical research were concemed was not forgotten, yet in the seventeenth Century, 4C Lupus Scrvatus, Epistolarum über, Paris 1588. The first edition of the works of Agobard of Lyons was edited, from a manuscript in Masson’s possession, in 1605. 41 Hincmar of Rheims, Epistolae, Mainz 1602, and again in Paris in 1615. 42 See A. Wilson, The Making of the Nuremburg Chronicle, Amsterdam 1976, pp. 32-33. This manuscript is now in Munich, Clm 14485. 42' On the formation of a patriotic view of the past in sixteenth Century' France see Voss, Das Mittelalter im historischen Denken Frankreichs (note 9a) pp. 105-111. 43 Jean Bodin, Methodus ad facilem historiarum cognitionem, Paris 1566. 44 N. Vignier, La Bibliotheque Historialc, Paris 1587. He also criticized the legend of the Trojan origin of the Franks in his Traite de Testat ct origine des anciens frangois, Troyes 1582. 45 A. Duchesne, Historiac francorum scriptorcs, Paris 1536. 44 Louis Le Roy, Consideration sur Thistoire frangoise et universelle de ce temps, Paris 1567, Du Haillan, Histoire de France, Paris 1576; La Popelini^re, Histoire de France, Paris 1582, and Histoire des Histoires, Paris 1598; Cujas, Novellarum constitutionum imp. Iustiniani expositio, Cologne 1570. All these historians and many more are discusscd by George Huppert Tbe Idea of Perfect History’, Illinois 1970, N. Edelman, Attitudes of seventeenth Century France towards the Middle Ages, New York 1946, Donald R. Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship, New York and London 1970, and again, Voss, Das Mittelalter im historischen Denken Frankreichs (note 9a). There is also relevant material in J.G. A. Pocock, The Ancicnt Constitution and the Feudal Law, Bath 1974, and Arno Borst, »Das Karlsbild in der Geschichtswissenschaft vom Humanismus bis heutes in: Karl der Grosse, Lcbcnsw erk und Nachleben 1., IV Das Nachlcbcn, Düsseldorf 1965, p. 364-402. 564 Rosamond McKitterick scholarship, method and pure erudition developed rapidly at the expense of historical Interpre­ tation. The Franks were studied more and more for their own sake and the inherent fascination and complexities of the period than to illustrate the origins of Contemporary institutions or add weight to political arguments. In the seventeenth Century some of the most influential works of scholarship for the study of mediaeval and Frankish history, work in the form of editions of sources and books of reference often still not superseded today, was achieved, and it was based firmly unpon the pioneering work of the sixteenth Century. The man who best epitomizes seventeenth Century scholarship in Europe is of course Jean Mabillon.47 * He was born of a peasant family in 1632 and after he had completed his educationhe entered the Benedictine Order and spent a number of years at the monasteries of Nogent and Corbie before being sent to the headquarters of the Congregation of Saint Maur at Saint- Germain-des-Pres in Paris. Saint-Germain was already renowned as a centre of learning, largely due to the efforts of Luc d’Achery,41 and Mabillon joined the group of scholars among the monks there. His first assignment was to edit the »Opera« of Bernard of Clairvaux, an edition which established Mabillon's reputation. We may see Mabillon through English eyes, for Martin Lister, the English conchologist and doctor of medicine, visited Mabillon at Saint- Germain-des-Pres and wrote an account of the visit in his »Journey to Paris in the year 1698«. I visited at his chamber Pere Mabillon, uho has so well deserved of the Commonwealth of learning by his writings and that excellent book »De Re Diplomatica*; he seemed to me to be a very good natured and freehearted man and was well pleased to hear that our catalogue of English manuscripts was so forward at the Press at Oxford. He thankfully owned the favour of the Cotton library and was very sorry to hear of Dr. Bemard's death of whom he spoke very kindly; but he expressed a wonderful esteem for Dr. Calet the Dean of York.49 It is for his monumental »De Re Diplomatica« to which Lister referred that Mabillon is best remembered.50 In the Preface to »De Re Diplomatica« Mabillon explained that his aim was >to distinguish the true from the false by means of proved and reliable rules«. Mabillon criticized the comparative method used by Papebroche in 1675,51 that is, comparing a charter thought to be authentic with a possibly spurious one, and sought independent critcria. He divided his argument into six sections or books. The first discussed the use of Charters in the Middle Ages and defined and described the different kinds of legal document. He established that ecclestasti- cal and royal Charters were granted out from the Merovingian period onwards, that is from the sixth to the eighth centuries. He examined too what kinds of script were employed in Charters, the different materials on which they were written and the type of ink used. The second section was concerned with the content and style of the charter, its five main parts, the languagc, useof seals and System of dating. He devoted much of the third book to a discussion of those Charters whose authenticity Papebroche had queried, and the fourth to an examination of the where- abouts of the palaces and chanceries of the Frankish and French kings where the Charters had 47 E. Cuthbert Butler, »Mabillon*, in: Downside Review, 1893, p. 116-132; D. Knowles, Great Historical Enterprises, London 1963, p. 33-63 and the collected studies in Mabillon’s honour, Melanges et Documents publies a l’occasion du 2e centenaire de la Mort de Mabillon, Paris 1908. 49 Luc d’Achery collected together a large number of medieval texts in his Spicilegium, Paris 1657. 44 M. Lister, Journey to Paris in the Year 1698, London 1699, pp. 121-122. Dr. Bernard was Savillian Professor of Astronomy at Oxford. Dr. Gale was the famous Anglo-Saxon scholar Thomas Gale. w De Re Diplomatica, Paris 1681, A Supplement to the work waspublished in 1704 and a second edition prepared by Mabillon’s disciple, the Abbe Ruinart and published after his death. 51 Daniel van Papenbroek, Propylaeum antiquarium circa veri ac falsa discrimen in vetustis membranis, Brussels 1673. For a discussion of both the Propylaeum and Mabillon's response to it see A. Poncelet, »Mabillon et Papebroche«, Melanges et Documents (note 47) pp. 169-175, and Levillain, »Le De Re Diplomatica«, ibid. pp. 195-252. The Study of Frankish History 565 been drawn up. Plates of the types of script used throughout the centuries with which he was concerned, taken from the manuscripts he had consulted, filled the fifth book. In the sixth, Mabillon included a collection of more than two hundred documents which he believed to be genuine on applying the rules he had expounded in the five preceding sections. It will beclear how fundamental, and, if I may be permitted the use of a tired word, revolutionary, to critical historical scholarship, particularly scholarship conceming the Frankish period, his work was. »De Re Diplomatica«, as well as establishing the necessity of the ancillary disciplines of palaeography and diplomatic for historical scholarship, contained the basis on which all succeeding scholars could only build; it remains a masterpiece. The stature and importance of the »De Re Diplomatica« were instantly recognized,“ and although there were various misguided efforts to fault Mabiilon’s criteria, his rules prevailed.52 53 Papebroche himself wrote an admiring and convinced letter to Mabillon and the work exerted a profound influcnce all over Europe. ln England, George Hickes, the celebrated Anglo-Saxon scholar, was loud in his praise of the »De Re Diplomatica« and discussed Mabiilon’s methods at length in his own remarkable work, the »Dissertatio Epistolaris« with which he prefaced his »Linguarum veterum septentrionalium Thesaurus«, published in 1703.54 * * Hickes sought to expound the critical foundations of the study of Old English antiquities, and it is his treatment of Anglo-Saxon Charters which is the most important part of his »Dissertatio«. As he himself affirmed, Hickes >had had time to master the teaching of the »De Re Diplomatica« and he establishcd a set of useful canons for Anglo-Saxon diplomatic. Mabillon in his turn recom- mended Hickes's treatise to his pupils and pronounced the Englishman to be >one of ten thousand, a truly learncd person<. Humphrey Wanley trained himself to imitate different hands by copying the plates from Book V of the »De Re Diplomatica«. Wanley leamt from it that handwriting had an historical development, and that the study of manuscripts and documents of all kinds was a Science.” Clearly relations with the Frcnch scholar and the most eminent English Anglo-Saxonists and mediaevalists were of the most cordial. In his work on the »Acta Sanctorum«, Mabillon had traced the life of Wilfrid of Hexham by Eddius Stephanus to a Cotton manuscript and requested a transcript from Thomas Gale through Dr. Bemard (hence Mabiilon’s distress at hearing of Bernard’s death from Lister). Gale discovered a morecomplete text of the life in a Salisbury manuscript, the additional material it contained was sent to Mabillon, who published it with due acknowledgcment in the »Acta Sanctorum«.* In Italy too, Mabillon exerted considerable influcnce, both personal and through his writings. Certainly he was indircctly responsible for the revival of learning in Italy in the eighteenth Century.57 Bacchini passed on Mabiilon’s teaching in palaeography, diplomatic and 52 See Julian Brown, »Latin Palaeography since Traube«, in: Transactions of the Cambridge Btbliogra- phical Society 3, 1959-63, pp. 361-381, reprinted with additional notes in Codicologica I ed. A. Gruys, Leiden 1976. w L. Levillain, »Le De Rc Diplomatica« (notc 51) pp. 248-251, and notc too the cautious rather than misguided response of Thomas Smith, Cotton’s librarian, in a letter to Humphrey Wanley, Harley ms. 3782, an. 51 ed. H. Ellis, Original Letters of Eminent Litcrary men of the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries No. CVII, London 1843, p. 253. * Sec David C. Douglas, English Scholars, London 1939, p. 117. ss This was pointed out by K. Sisam, Studics in the history of Old English literature, Oxford 1953, p. 263. See too C. E. Wright and R. C. Wright, The Diary of Humphrey Wamlev 1715-26, London 1966. On Wanley and bis importance for manuscript studies see brieflv P. E. Easterling, Notes on early dcscriptions and datings of Greck manuscripts, in: Studia Codicologica. Texte und Untersuchungen 124, Berlin 1977, pp. 179-187. * D. Douglas, English Scholars (notc 54) p. 71. On thcsc manuscripts see B. Colgrave, Tbc Life of Bishop Wilfrid by Eddius Stephanus, Text, translation and notes, Cambridge 1927. 57 A. Momigliano, »Mabiilon’s Italian disciple«, in: Essays in Ancicnt and Modern Historiograph}*, London 1966, pp. 285-315. 566 Rosamond McKitterick textual criticism, and it was Bacchini’s pupil Muratori, Librarian of the Ambrosiana in Milan and of the Duke of Modena’s library, who transformed Italian historical studies.*1 Mabillon’s interests were not only in the sphere of manuscript studies; in his »Traite des etudes monasti- ques« of 1691, he made an impassioned plea for intellectual work and intellectual integrity in the religious Orders and advocated objectivity and a critical spirit as the essential tools for the historian and Scholar. The work of Mabiilon on Latin manuscripts and that of his colleague Montfaucon on Greek Codices remained invaluable. Even Gibbon, in his own words, >was induced to consult the great Benedictine works, the »Diplomatica« of Mabiilon and the »Palaeographica« of Montfaucon at the view of so many manuscripts of different ages and character<. He adds >1 studied the theory without attaining the practice of the art«.w Other members of Mabillon’s Order at Saint-Germain-des-Pres also produced work of great erudition, containing much that related to Frankish affairs. The ecclesiastical origin and bias of many of the literary sources for the Carolingian period naturally matched the interests of the Maurists in France and the Bollandists in Belgium. Their volumes of saints lives critically edited from manuscripts and early printed texts were a great contribution to historical writing, while they should always be remembered for the methods they practised and taught. They also produced a number of essential handbooks, such as the year books, albeit the great productions of the Orders were early in the following Century, with the »Gallia Christiana«, a list of all the dioceses and abbacies of France during the Middle Ages, closely modelled on Ughelli’s »Italia Sacra«,'* and Bouquet’s »Receuil des Historiens des Gaules et de la France«. In 1676 Colbert initiated a scheme to compjete the narrative source collections started by Andre Duchesne and published in 1638. Later, LeTellier, archbishop of Rheims, revived Colbert’s plan and Bouquet of Saint-Germain-des-Pres was assigned the work; it was finally completed in 1904. This collection actually leaves a great deal to be desired, for it divides the narratives into sections separatcd according to period, and also expunges large portions of the text; it is gradually being replaced.* 40 41 All the Roman monuments and remains of France were, again on the prompting of Colbert, described by Montfaucon in »Les monuments de la monarchie frangaise« (1729-35). DuCange carried on the philological methods of the sixteenth Century and produced his incomparable »Glossarium ad scriptores mediae et infimae latinitatis«, a lexicon of mediaeval Latin published in 1678, which is only now being replaced, fascicle by fascicle, by an entire team in the Bavarian Academy buildings in Munich.42 * * French Jesuit scholarship was mostly concerned with the history of the councils of the mediaeval church, and a collection of the decrees of thesccouncils was put together by Jacques Sirmond and continued in succeeding decades by Labbe and Cossart, Hardouin, Coleti and Mansi; it was completed in 1798.45 Clerical scholarship thus devoted much of its energies to editing and Publishing historical material of all kinds, and devising methods for its evaluation and interpretation. M L. Muratori, Antiquitates Italicae, Milan 1723-1896 and Annali d'Italia dal principio dell’cra volgare sino all' anno 1500, Milan 1744. 54 Gibbon, quoted by David Douglas in: English Scholars (note 54) p. 361. 40 F. Ughelli, Italia sacra, sive de episcopis Italiae, et insularum adiacentium 9 vols., Rome 1644-62. 41 M. Bouquet, Recueil des Historiens des Gaules et de la France, Paris 1738-1904. A. Giry et al, Collection de textes pour servir a l’ctude et ä l’enseignement de l’histoire 51 vols., Paris 1886-1929, and L. Halphen et al, Classiques de l’histoire de France au Moyen Age, Paris 1923 -, are the continuations of this enterprise. 42 Mittellateinisches Wörterbuch, under the general direction of B. Bischoff, O. Prinz and J. Schneider, Munich 1959 -. 42 J. Sirmond, Concilia antiqua Galliae, Paris 1629, Labb£ and Cossart, Sacrosancta Concilia, Paris 1671—2, and Hardouin, Acta conciliorum et epistolae decrctales ac constitutiones summorum Pontificium, Paris 1715. The Study of Frankish History 567 One further erudit associated with the group who used to meet in a small room at Saint- Germain-des-Pres on Wednesday evenings under the leadership of Mabillon, was Etienne Baluze, Colbert’s librarian.°a Baluze had access to a far greater number of manuscripts than Pithou had had a Century earlier, and his greatest contribution to Frankish studies was the new edition, based on a far wider ränge of manuscripts than the edition of Pithou, of the Capitulary legislation of the Carolingian kings, an edition only (rather unsatisfactorily) replaced at the end of the nineteenth Century* Martin Lister visited Baluze in Colbert’s library and described him as a >little old man, but very cheerful and of a quick wit. He complained much of the refusal of the Emperor’s people conceming the manuscripts of Vienna in Order to the publication of the Capitularies, for he said letters were never at war.<65 * German humanists and seventeenth Century scholars were as active as the French in the editing of mediaeval texts and the study of Frankish history, for the Franks were regarded as the ancestors of the Germans as well. Jakob Wimpheling’s »Epitome rerum Germanicarum« published in 1505 was the first history of Germany based on original sources. Other humanists, such as Conrad Celtis (1439-1508), Conrad Peutinger (1465-1544) and Beatus Rhenanus (1485- 1547) wrote histories of their country as well as editing a number of texts.* Beatus Rhenanus was the first to offer any convincing historical evidence conceming the Germanic origin of the Franks in »Rerum Germanicarum libri tres« (Basel 1551);his book was widely read in France; it is quoted by Hotman for example. In 1532 the earliest collection of narrative sources relating to Germany was published, and it includcd among other Carolingian texts, Einhard’s life of Charlemagne.67 * 69 German and French scholars edited the texts they found in monastic libraries, and the scarch for these texts was often extended into long journeys, the voyages litteraires. Mabillon for example visited Germany and Italy; from Italy he sent back no less than 4192 manuscripts and printed books, and it was on his way back from Germany that hediscovered the seventh Century Lectionary of Luxcuil in Burgundy, which lead him to write his study of the old Frankish >Gallican< liturgy* At Reichenau in 1683, a record was kept of the Codices Mabillon consulted. They included a ninth Century catechism, »Vigilii libri V adversus haereses«, Gregory of Tours’ »Liber de gloria martyrum«, the homiliary of Paul the Deacon, Primarius’s commcntary on the Apocalypse, the commentary on the Rule of Benedict by Hildericus and Walafrid Strabo’s Commentary on the Psalms.6* Montfaucon too travelled widely, and his »Bibliotheca Bibliothecarum«, published in 1739, included catalogues of the manuscripts in all the libraries he had visited, still uscful in providing descriptions of libraries as they were before the depradations of the French Revolution. As far as regional histories and handbooks for the mediaeval period are concerned there is really nothing from Germany in the seventeenth Century to compare with French scholarship of the samc period except for the work of Hermann Conring (1606-1681) who delineated the development of German law down to the sixteenth Century and used the historical method in 1 have not dealt at all with the thinking about the Middle Agcs on the part of the seventeenth Century French litcrati; for this see Voss, Das Mittelalter im historischen Denken Frankreichs (note 9a) pp. 126- 137. * E. Baluze, Capitularia regum francorum, Paris 1677, reedited Boretius MGH Cap. 1 and II, Hannover 1883. M. Lister, Journey to Paris in 1698, London 1699, p. 130. * On Conrad Celtis sce L. W. Spitz, Conrad Celtis; the German arch Humanist, Cambridge 1957. Conrad Peutinger, Scrmones convivialcs de mirandis Germaniae antiquitatibus, Strasbourg 1506. 67 See above p. 562. M J. Mabillon, De liturgia Gallicana libri III, Paris 1685 and see P. Salmon, Le Lectionnaire de Luxcuil, Rome 1944. 69 P. Lehmann (cd.). Mittelalterliche Bibliothekskataloge Deutschlands und der Schweiz I, Munich 1918, p. 236. 568 Rosamond McKitterick teaching law,* 71 72 73 and Bernard Pez (1683-1735), an Austrian Benedictine who knew both Mabillon and Montfaucon pcrsonally and who edited a collection of mediaeval sources, many of them Carolingian, and in many cases still the only editions available.71 Early work in the field of Frankish history in France and Germany thus established many of the methods and emphases of historical writing about the period, as well as collecting together the sources for it, whether in printed editions or in manuscript and archive collcctions. It is evident from the voyages litteraires that scholars found and expected to find unpublished texts and hitherto unknown sources for the mediaeval period hidden away in monastic and private libraries; in this of course they followed the example of the Italian humanists with their expeditions in search of manuscripts.72 The sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was a period of the formation of great libraries, and in France especially, these collections were made available to scholars. The tradition of scholarly and academic libraries as well as monastic libraries containing both precious manuscripts and printed books which developed in France and Germany does much to explain how and why scholars were able to indulge their interests and develop their methods. Even before Mazarin’s librarian Gabriel Naude wrote his handbook »Advis pour dresser une Bibliotheque« in 1627, in which he proffered sound advice for any gentleman wishing to form a library which would assist learning,75 the principle of private collections of books being made available to scholars was well established. Interest in Frankish and French history furthermore lead in a number of notable cases to the gathering together of magnificent collections of manuscripts, Charters and curiosities. The most remarkable collec­ tion of books and antiquities in France was the royal collection, and the preeminence it enjoyed was one which in a sense traced its origins right back to Charlemagne himself.74 Charlemagne, his son, Louis the Pious, and grandsons Charles the Bald, Lothar and Louis the German had all had palace libraries, and there is even some evidence to suggest that the books were available to scholars.75 After the death of Charles the Simple in 923 there are no details of royal books until the reign of the Capetian king Louis IX (1226-1270). Louis possessed a >true library< according to Geoffroi de Bcaulieu, who went on to explain that Louis’s library had been inspired by that of the king of the Saracens which had to servc the needs of scholars and which Louis had seen when on Crusade. Louis had all the books relating to the Bible and the patristic writings copied, and those who wished to study them could do so. All these books were dispersed to religious houses on Louis’s death, and although all his successors possessed books the first king really to organize a library on a grand scale was Charles V (1364- 1380). His library was designed not only to satisfy the personal tastes of the members of the 73 H. Conring, Definitus Imperii Germanici libri duo, Helmstadt 1654; De origine iuris Germanici liber unus, Helmstadt 1649. 71 B. Pez, Bibliotheca ascetica antiquo-nova, Regensburg 1723-40. 72 Arising initially from the Council of Constance; the most notorious is Poggio Bracciolini’s search among the treasures of St. Gail, See P. Walter Goodhard Gordon (ed.), Two Renaissance Book Hunters, The letters of Poggius Bracciolini to Nicolaus de Niccolis, New York 1974. 75 G. Naud£, Advis pour dresser une Bibliotheque, Paris 1637. On Naude’s views concerning the Middle Ages and medieaval authors see Voss, Das Mittelalter im historischen Denken Frankreichs (notc 9a) p. 142. 74 On the history of the royal library see the indispensible account in: Leopold Delisle, Le Cabinet des Manuscrits de la Bibliotheque Imperiale I (Nationale II and III), Paris 1868-81.1 have drawn much of what follows from Delisle. 75 B. Bischoff, >Die Hofbibliothek Karls des Grossem, in: Karl der Grosse, Lebenswerk und Nachlc- ben, T. II. Das Geistige Leben, Düsseldorf 1965, pp. 42-62; idem >Die Hofbibliothek Ludwigs des Frommen«, in: Medieval Literature and Learning. Studies presented to R. W. Hunt, Oxford 1976, ed. M.T. Gibson and J. J. G. Alexander, pp. 3-22; and Rosamond McKitterick, Charles the Bald (823- 877) and his library: the patronage of learning, in: English Historical Review 95 (1980) pp. 28-47. The Study of Frankish History 569 royal family, but also to facilitate the studies of the savants. Christine de Pisan teils us that the library was collected together in three rooms in the palace, and that the books covered a wide ränge of topics, from beautiful books of hours to biblical and theological works and philosophi- cal and scientific treatises. In 1367 or 1368 this library was installed in the Louvre, and lamps were provided for those wishing to work at night (a luxury not provided in the Cambridge University Library until 1898). Books could be borrowed and this led to many losses. From a fourteenth Century inventory of the books it can be seen that most subjects were represented, including history; there were copies of a number of a classical historians, lives of the saints and chronicles of the crusaders, but most history was Contemporary and it was written in French, a notable absence being the lack of Latin authors on the history of France/* There were on the other hand a great number of Carolingian romances, that is, the later mediaeval epic poems about the Carolingian kings of the type referred to at the beginning of this article. Most of Charles V's books were lost or dispersed after his death and a great many were bought by the Duke of Bedford and dispersed again on Beford’s death in 1435. It is now possible to trace only a small proportion of the books which once graced the royal library of France. Charles V’s brothers and many of his nobles emulated the king in collecting books, and a tradition was established that the possession of a library was an essential accoutrement of the cultured gentleman; the Duc de Berry for cxample had a morc refined taste than his brother Charles V and possessed many exquisite illuminated books and classical texts.7t The royal library seems to have been built up again under Louis XI (1461-83). It was Louis who accorded his protection to Gering, Crantz and Friburger, the first printers to set up their press in Paris. Thus both printed books and manuscripts were added to the royal library, for Louis also encouraged translators, scribes and illuminators. He was interested in the history of his house, and was presented with a life of Charlemagne and a detailed genealogical description of the royal ancestry. Louis’s son Charles VIII commissioned manuscripts to add to the books he inherited from his father, including a history of >Saint< Charlemagne, a chronicle of the kings of France and a life of St Denis. Charles VIII fully understood the importance of the literary and artistic movement in Italy, and in 1459 he brought 1594 books back from Italy. It is Charles VIII’s books which form the kernel of the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris. The principle that in the general interest b.ooks amassed by a king ought to be zealously guarded was definitely recognized under Louis XII, and from his time onwards the library was no longcr the king’s personal property but rather a public collcction, open to scholars, both French and foreign. Düring Louis XII’s reign the royal library became the first in the world, for to it were added the superb collections of the Duc d’Orleans, the dukes of Milan, and of Louis of Bruges. Scholars not only gained access to the royal library; they were also encouraged to edit and publish any inedita they discovered, work which the new printing press greatly facilitated. Whcn Francois I came to the throne he founded a new College in Paris and added so extensively to the library that Cujas, a legal historian, complained that all the Latin manuscripts from his part of the Midi were now in the king’s library.7* In 1544 the royal library was transferred to Fontainebleau but was moved back to Paris in response to public request in 1604. The library benefited greatly from the Wars of Religion, for many monastic houscs were forccd to seil their books and they were acquired either by the king or by private collectors. The library of the abbey of St Denis is one of the most famous examples. St Denis possessed somc of the fincst Merovingian and Carolingian manuscripts in France, and 7b Delisle, Cabinet I (note 74) pp. 27-31. 77 J. Barrois, Bibliotheque protypographique. Lcs bibliotheques des fils du roi Jean, Charles V, Jean de Bcrri, Philippe de Bourgognc ct lcs siens, Paris 1530, and H. de Beauvoire, La librairie de Jean, duc de Berry au Chateau de Mchun-sur-Yeurc, Paris 1860. 7fi Quoted by Delisle, Cabinet 1 (note 74) p. 163. 570 Rosamond McKitterick the monks there had made and kept a reputation for literary and historical knowledge, as wellas their fame for fine calligraphy and book illumination.7* * Their loss was the gain of scholars. On 23rd October 1595 the magnificent Bible known as the Second Bible of Charles the Bald arrived in the royal library. It was a Codex four hundred folios thick, written in a beautifully regulär Caroline minuscule and decorated with large intricate initials at the abbey of St Amand in Northern France, and presented to Charles the Bald in about 870. Charles the Bald left some of his books to the abbey of St Denis when he died in 877, and this Bible is one of them. It is still to be seen in the Bibliotheque Nationale in Paris today (BN lat. 2). By the early seventeenth Century the need for books and an understanding of their importance for the maintenance of leaming and knowledge of the national heritage had become a matter of govemment business as well as royal patronage. By order of the Conseil d’Etat of 8th March 1622 for example, the manuscript collection of Philippe Hurault, a collection which had excited the admiration of fellow scholars and which contained many books relevant to the early history of France (including the »Historia Francorum« of Gregory of Tours and Regino of Prüm’s Chronicle), was transferred to the royal library. The order of the Conseil is illuminating: II importait au public et d Vhonneur du royaume que tel recueil de livres ne füt dissipe et nepassdt en mains etrangeres ainsi füt conserve ä posterite pour Zusage de ceux qui font profession des bonnes lettres.90 The principle of refraining from dispersing a library which had been carefully assembled to illustrate different branches of knowledge was also observed by the Dupuy brothers. Pierre and Jacques Dupuy were guardians of the royal library under Louis XIV and themselves possessed a remarkably good collection of manuscripts which they left to the royal libraryBy the mid- seventeenth Century the Dupuy brothers* collection was but one of many fine libraries of documents, manuscript and printed books used by scholars. Perhaps the finest of all was thatof Colbert; it was a library particularly invaluable for Frankish studies. Colbert had acquired the direction of the royal library in 1661 and expended a lot of his energies in acquiring books for it, sending expeditions as far afield as the Levant, Turkey, Egypt, Portugal and Italy as well as nearer home. Mabillon’s expedition to Italy for example was funded by Colbert. Colbert seems however to have been more interested in adding to theriches of his own library. He had by all accounts a veritable passion for books and an unerring eye for Carolingian manuscripts: evidently he prized these above all others. He was in a position to spread his book catching net as wide as he wished and a number of agents were in his cmploy who were responsible for searching for and acquiring books by fair means or foul. In practice the means were more often than not, foul. Many monasteries were persuaded to give or seil their books to the king's minister, often at absurdly low prices.12 One of the most spectacular acquisitions made by Colbert was from the cathedral library at Metz in Lorraine, the region covcred by Colbcrt’s agent de Morangis, a persistent man. Metz had been since the fifth Century one of the principal Frankish cities, the see of the saintly ancestor of the Carolingians, Arnulf, a centre for ecclesiastical reform in the eighth Century and a prominent bishopric in the ninth. In 869, Charles the Bald had given the bishop and canons of Metz his Psalter, a lovely book produced in the so-called »palace-schooh of Charles the Bald and still in its original jewellcd and ivory binding, and the Bible known as the First Bible of Charles the Bald or Vivian Bible (now ” Ibid. pp. 200-207. 1,0 Ibid. p. 214. 11 Ibid. pp. 262-265, L. Dorez, Catalogue de la Collection Dupuy, Paris 1928, and S. Solente, »Les Manuscrits des Dupuy a la Bibliotheque Nationale-, in: Bibliotheque de l'Ecole des Chartcs 88 (1927) pp. 177-250. *2 Delisle, Cabinet 1 (note 74) p. 443-477. The Study of Frankish History 571 BN lat. 1), written and illuminated at Tours in 846 and presented to Charles by the lay abbot, Count Vivian. The former manuscript was in fact in Colbert’s day at first associated with Charlemagne rather than his grandson and this of course made it the more precious. Colbert lusted after these two books and would not rest until he had them. De Morangis succeeded in coaxing the Psalter out of the canons of Metz, in return for which Colbert sent them a full size portrait of Louis XIV! Considerable pressure was then exerted on the canons, insinuating that they would be guilty of treason were the treasure not delivered into the hands of the king’s servant, and the Bible duly arrived in 1675. This time the canons were presented with a jewelled cross worth 1000 livres.” Martin Lister saw these two books when he visited Colbert’s library in 1698. The library was then still in the charge of Etienne Baluze. Lister wrote: I saw the library of the late Monsieur Colbert, that great patron oflearning. The Gallery wherein the printed books are kept is a Groundroom . . . the manuscript library is above stairs in three rooms and it is the choicest of that kind in Paris. It contains 6610volume$. The catalogue of them Monsieur Baluze showed me, which he said was designed mostly for the press. (Baluze) showed me many rare books, Carolus Calvus Bible, a vast folio in vellum and hisprayer book or hours all writ in Gold letters. Also the Missa Beati Rhenanus whereof all the copies were bumt but four, The original deed of the Agreement of the Greek and Roman church agreed upon at Florence and many others which I have forgol. . Both the Bible and the Psalter, together with the rest of Colben’s books now form part of the Bibliotheque Nationales collection. As well as the original manuscripts and documents, Carcavy, Baluze’s predecessor as librarian, and Baluze, when they could not procure the Originals, made copies of documents relating to history, public law and administration. They copied cartularies, diplomatic corres- pondence and Charters from Originals in the royal library and private collections and formed thereby a veritable treasure house for the historian. That many historians and scholars customarily workcd in Colbert’s library is attested by the register of readers kept by Baluze, which records among others, the names of Mabillon, Montfaucon, Cotelier and Du Cange.1* A further depository of documentary material was the Cabinet des Chartes founded in 1762 and transferred in 1790 to the Bibliotheque Nationale. A collection of a rather different kind amassed for the use of scholars and artists was that of the amateur but zealous Roger de Gaignieres. Gaignieres had lodgings in the Guise apartments and was a man of modest means, serving the Duc de Guise as an equerry. He deliberately collected material which would illuminate history and in particular the history of families. Gaignieres explorcd the archives of many abbeys and monasteries, copying everything he could find, and copying in its entirety anything dated before the ycar 900 that he could. He was an antiquarian par excellence. Lister visited Gaignieres’ collection in 1698 and was much impressed, relating how he waited upon the Abbe Droine to visit m. Gaunicrcs (sic) at his lodgings at the hostcl de Guise. This gentleman is courtesy itself and one of the most curious and industrious persons in Paris. His Memoirs, Manuscripts, Paintings and stamps are infinite, but the Method in which he disposes them is very particular and useful. He shewed his portfolios in folio of red Spanish leather finely adomed.* * ** 13 The Psalter is now BN lat. 1152; on it and the Bible sec McKitterick (note 75). 94 Lister, Journey to Paris in the Year 1698 (note 65) pp. 128-130. ** Paris, Bibliotheque Nationale, ms. lat. 9366; the names most frequently rccurring are listed by Delisle, Cabinet I, (note 74) pp. 476-477. H Lister, Journey to Paris in the Ycar 1698 (note 65) p. 94. On Gaignieres sce briefly Voss, Das Mittelalter im historischen Denken Frankreichs (note 9a) pp. 166-167. 572 Rosamond McKirterick Gaignieres collection was more what the French called a Cabinet des curiosites et antiquites than a library, but it was one of many such cabinets in the country.17 It is collections such as the royal library, Colbert’s books and Gaignieres cabinet which illustrate not only how the keen, often obsessive, interest in the past was indulged, but also how historians and scholars were provided with the materials they needed. Side by side with the concentration on erudition and scholarship was the development of a philosophical type of historical writing, exemplified by Montesquieu, and above all Voltaire, which surveyed history as a whole and conceived it es a record of human activity in all its manifestations. Voltaire moreover, like many of his contemporaries, hated the Middle Ages; he was a particularly harsh critic of Charlemagne and dispised what he regarded as the learned clutter of the antiquary. David Douglas’s comments about the change in attitude in England towards mediaeval studies by Gibbon’s time in which >technical research had ceased to be the proper occupation for a gentleman<8' apply equally well to France, though perhaps less so to Germany, and there were many who would have agreed with Lord Chestcrfield's lofty observation to his son in 1747 that although he admitted that »Modern History begins properly with Charlemagne in the year 800; a general notion of what is rather supposed than really known to be the history of the five or six following centuries seems to be sufficient.<"* Nevertheless, in the eighteenth Century signs of a new professionalism in historical research and interpretation are to be observed. The critical techniques developed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries were gradually combined with the writing of history as a form of literary narrative and analysis, and Gibbon himself was an example of how learning and interpretation could marry. The founding of learned academies in the eighteenth Century, such as the »Academie des Inscriptions et Beiles Lettres« in Paris (called by that name only in 1716 and in fact the institution itself had been established in the preceding Century) the Prussian Academy founded by Frederick I and the »Akademie der Wissenschaften« in Göttingen founded in 1751 under the patronage of George II, drew its inspiration from the tradition of critical scholarship and erudition which had grown in the preceding two centuries, as did the establishment of the University of Berlin in 1809, of the »Monumenta Germaniae Historica« in 1823 and the »Ecole des Chartes« in Paris in 1824. These were the first beginnings of new developments in the study of mediaeval and of Frankish history which have had a direct impact on the study of Frankish history in our own day.*3 v There was a notable increase in the popularity of such Cabinets and the collection of antiquities aftcr the tomb of Childeric I, the carliest known Frankish ruier, who died in 482, was uncarthed at Tournai in 1653. M David C. Douglas, English Scholars, London 1939, p. 361. w Chesterfield, Letters to his Son No. CXIII, citcd by Douglas, English Scholars (note 88) p. 363. General studies of historiography which include discussions of the main developments of the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries include J. W. Thompson, A History of Historical Writing, New York 1942, and E. Fueter, Histoire de PHistoriographie Moderne, Paris 1914; this is the augmented French edition, translated by Emile Jeanmaire. For some specific aspccts of modern historiography about the Frankish period sce D. Knowles, Great Historical Enterprises, London 1963, G. H. Pertz, Autobtog- raphy and Letters cd. L. Pertz, London 1893, Brycc Lyon, Henri Pircnnc; a biographical and intcllcctual study, Ghent 1974, G. Monod, »Du progres des etudes historiques en France depuis 1c XVIc siccle<, in: Revue Historiquc 1 (1876), and D. Bullough »Europac Pater: Charlemagne and his achicvcment in the light of modern scholarship«, in: English Historical Review 85 (1970) pp. 59-105. Voss, Das Mittelalter im historischen Denken Frankreichs (note 9a) pp. 180-368, is particularly valuablc on the continuing develop­ ment of interest in, and research on, the Middle Ages in France in the eighteenth and first half of the nineteenth centuries. 
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work_552um5cl5vh4jatyxt7zxmlgra	----	Brothers: A Novel By Yu Hua Trs. by Eileen Cheng-yin Chow and Carlos Rojas Reviewed by Christopher Rea MCLC Resource Center Publication (Copyright Oct 2011) "读书好啊，一天不读书，比一个月不拉屎还 难受。"（II.75) [1] "Reading is good, and going a day without reading is even more uncomfortable than going a month without taking a shit." (279) In Yu Hua's latest and longest novel, Brothers (兄 弟), our hero, Baldy Li, utters this affirmation in an effort to reinvent himself as a literary man and win over the town beauty, Lin Hong. Lin finds his sentiments uninspiring, so he tries out two less vulgar substitutes, to no avail. The line, however, gets straight not to the heart, perhaps, but to the bottom of what makes Brothers worth reading. This is a funny book, an assault on prudery and other social mores that is brash, surprising, and at times even revolting. Yet scatology is but one (albeit important) ingredient in a work of comparative brutality that juxtaposes the cruelty of China's revolutionary past with the injustices of its commercialized present. With Brothers, Yu Hua revives themes of death, violence, and family that permeate his earlier works. Readers will also find in abundance Yu Hua's famed black humor. The object, duration, and even tone of his humor, however, is noticeably altered. To read this novel is to plunge into an ambitious, relentless, and uneven, yet often inspired, farce. Brothers tells the story of step-brothers Baldy Li and Song Gang, inhabitants of a fictional Liu Town, from their scrappy childhood and inseparable friendship during the Cultural Revolution (1966-1976) to their growing estrangement into adulthood from China's "Reform and Opening" period of the late 1970s up to the present. The book is divided into two parts, which were Yu, Hua. Brothers: A Novel. Trs. Eileen Cheng-yin Chow and Carlos Rojas. New York: Pantheon Books, 2009. 656 pp. ISBN: 978-0-307- 38606-9 (paper) http://mclc.osu.edu/ http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn1 http://www.randomhouse.com/book/83703/brothers-by-yu-hua published as separate books in China in 2005 and 2006. Part I, set during the Cultural Revolution, concerns events of the brothers' childhood and adolescence, including the re-marriage of Li's mom, Li Lan, to Song's dad, Song Fanping; their encounters with local bullies; and the successive deaths of Song Fanping and Li Lan, which leaves them orphaned. The novel opens in the twenty-first century with the septuagenarian tycoon Baldy Li sitting on a gold-plated toilet seat and imagining himself carrying the ashes of his late brother into orbit as China's first space tourist. The true hook, however, appears soon thereafter when the narrative reverts to a formative moment in his adolescence in the 1960s. Like his late father before him, Baldy Li gets caught peeping at women's butts under the partition separating the men's and women's sections of a public toilet. Unlike his father, who falls into the shit trough and drowns,[2] Baldy Li lives to tell the tale, and tell it he does. Every adult male in Liu Town surreptitiously approaches him to learn the secret of Lin Hong's derrière, which he sells to all comers for a standard price: a bowl of house-special noodles. The incident (after which we move back in time again to Baldy Li's birth) takes on outsized importance in the narrative, because this first in a series of victories over his fellow townsfolk immediately establishes Li as a winsome rascal. Subsequent (pre-)pubescent transgressions in Part I cement his larger-than-life persona as a mischievous and enterprising trickster, a persona that is further developed in Part II. Part I also follows another arc in a pathetic key: the abject widowhood of Li's mother, Li Lan; her reluctant courtship with the virtuous widower Song Fanping; the brief happiness of their marriage and family; the climactic trauma of his death; and the denouement of Li Lan's own final decline. In this narrative arc, society's violence escalates from the petty bullying of the boys to a murder that robs a vulnerable family of its happiness. Part II, which is three times the length of Part I, follows the brothers diverging paths and the disintegration of their relationship into adulthood. Once an underdog, Li transforms himself into the top dog in Liu Town through a series of entrepreneurial ventures, including running a charity factory, brokering Japanese "junk suits," wholesaling scrap metal, and eventually heading a diversified conglomerate that achieves an economic monopoly over Liu Town. Song Gang, who is as weak-willed, naive, and passive as Baldy Li is resourceful, worldly, and opportunistic, manages to marry Lin Hong despite his brother's opposition, but their blissful marriage and his livelihood are eventually crippled by the new economic order Baldy Li has imposed upon Liu Town. Subjected to an escalating series of emasculating indignities, Song eventually has his woman stolen by his brother while the itinerant swindler Wandering Zhou is dragging him around the country to serve as, among other things, a male virility pill hawker and boob-implant model. Soon after returning home, he kills himself. Brothers is intriguing not least as an A-list writer's first novelistic response to the questions: What has become of China since the Cultural Revolution? How is a writer to respond to a society in which the absurd has become commonplace? While exploring the dynamics of human relations through such themes as kinship, loyalty, and betrayal, the novel also offers an outlandish portrayal of contemporary society run amuck. Rather than attempt to touch on all of its myriad subplots, I focus the rest of my comments on two of the novel's notable features: the trope of the trickster, personified by Baldy Li; and the manipulation of modal registers under the rubric of farce. http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn2 Farce is a compelling yet underestimated and often misunderstood creative mode. At its plainest, it is a one-note-samba of sarcastic abuse, the register most likely responsible for its generally low reputation as disconnected episodes of pointless buffoonery or laughter for laughter's sake. (Chinese terms for farce, often used in a pejorative sense, include 插科打诨，笑剧，闹剧，滑 稽戏.) As scholars have been at pains to point out, however, farce may pursue a variety of agendas, not least making its audience complicit in its transgression or suspension of moral norms.[3] Further, farcical registers may be loud or subliminal, even imperceptible. Works as different as Nabokov's Lolita and Lao She's Camel Xiangzi, for instance, have been read as works of both realism and farce.[4] A key distinction between farce and comic modes based on "reality" (such as satire) is that the former creates its own fantasy world rather than attempts merely to represent a presumed "real world." In Brothers, farce is primarily a mode of offence in the dual sense of seeking to offend the moral status quo, as the author defines it, and doing so aggressively—taking the offence, so to speak. This broad register is one of the easiest to recognize as farce because it bludgeons the reader/audience with outrageous conceits. The beauty contest of "virgins" with reconstructed hymens that opens in Chapter 63 is one of the novel's most obvious farcical sequences, but farce is also at work in the abjection of father and son Song, which I discuss below. The novel's alternation between tragedy and farce has been one of its most difficult aspects for critics to reconcile. Yu Hua has likened writing the novel to composing a symphony in which passages of Wagnerian bombast push the audience to the brink before abruptly shifting to a single, sublime note of Bach,[5] and the musical metaphor seems apt to describe the novel's repeated tonal shifts. The death of Song Fanping in Part I is one such example. Having suffered beatings, public humiliation, and incarceration for being a "landlord," the estimable man is finally beaten to death on the street, where his disfigured corpse is left for the better part of a day. When Baldy Li and Song Gang arrive and recognize the body by its clothes, they are mocked by bystanders for asking "Is that my father?" Eventually the kind-hearted vendor, Mama Su, confirms to the distraught children that it is indeed Song Fanping and persuades a man to transport his corpse home on a borrowed cart. (The man is mocked and assaulted by gawkers en route.) Li Lan, devastated, is too poor to afford a big enough coffin, so the men from the coffin shop settle on this solution: From the outside room the man in charge yelled, "Let's start smashing!" Li Lan's body jerked as if she were being electrocuted, and Baldy Li and Song Gang's bodies jolted in response. By this time a crowd had gathered outside the house, including neighbors and passersby, as well as others attracted by the commotion. A mass of them crowded the door, and a few even tumbled into the house. They excitedly discussed how the men from the coffin shop were shattering Song Fanping's knees. Li Lan and the children hadn't realized how they were going to smash his knees, but now they heard them talking about bricks, which then shattered, and how they used the back of a cleaver. There was so much din outside that they couldn't make out clearly what everyone was saying. They could only hear people whooping and hollering, as well as the sounds of smashing, dull thuds, and occasional sharp snaps—that was the sound of bone crunching. (149 / I.175-176) http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn3 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn4 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn5 This farce revisits the post-mortem indignities suffered by Shangang, the executed brother in Yu Hua's early story, "One Kind of Reality" (现实一种). For Yu Hua, death is never the fall of the curtain but rather the overture to new brutal excesses. Here, though, the murder of Song Fanping and the abuse of his corpse highlight a unique feature of the novel: its collective "voice." The third-person narrator who speaks of "our Liu Town" does not represent a single, collective voice of the fictional locale; rather, it is societal heteroglossia, a premise for the dramatic shifts in narratorial tone and perspective. Using this device, Yu Hua stages countless "Weizhuang moments" in which the people of Liu Town—like the townsfolk who tormented and were bullied by Ah Q—revel in their own passivity and spectatorial blood lust. These reenactments underscore both the power of Lu Xun's staging and the intractability, in Yu Hua's mind, of a moral flaw of his countrymen. Yu Hua modulates his farce with elements of realism, parody, and tragedy by means of a variety of devices. One of these is the figure of the trickster, Baldy Li. Li is both a suffering scapegoat of and a triumphant victor over societal forces. Bullied as a youth, as an adult he succeeds in maximizing the hedonistic excesses afforded by society but ends up isolating himself in the process. Critics have picked up on this ambivalence, likening Li to both a "modern-day Ah Q" (现代阿 Q) and a " folk hero" (民间英雄) for being an opportunistic and self-defeating clown, as well as a self-made man of the people.[6] Li is also a comic archetype of the cultural entrepreneur—the wheeling-dealing, market-making man of his age—one resonant not just in contemporary China, but with historical tropes dating back to the Republican era.[7] Baldy Li is primarily to thank for Brothers being Yu Hua's most epigrammatic work to date. A brief sampling: "In an hour I will spread my wings like a great roc and soar away!" (324) "I won't take a single needle or thread from the masses." (391) "When it comes to history, truth will always win out." (457) Though Baldy Li has an individual personality and at times appears in "realistic" scenarios, his mouthing of these set phrases keeps the reader's sense of reality askew, again and again transforming profound and lofty sentiments into mechanical and reflexive utterances. The trickster's speech transforms reality into parody, and then into farce by sheer weight of repetition. Another modulating device—one of the novel's best inventions, in my opinion—is the Greek chorus of fools, bullies, blind men, and con men who trail Baldy Li from an age of revolutionary excess into an age in which opportunism and media spectacle rule the day. First to appear is the Tweedledum and Tweedledee pair of Writer Liu and Poet Zhao who magnify each other's high- art pretentions and gang up on the young Li (who eventually divides and conquers them). They are later joined by Blacksmith Tong, Popsicle Wang, Yanker Yu, and Baldy Li's "fourteen loyal minions" at the Good Works Factory. Besides acting as a sounding board for Baldy Li's pronouncements, these supporting characters also provide structure and continuity to a lengthy and picaresque work through their predictable self-repetition and their mimicry. While Baldy Li becomes Director Li, Scraps Li, and so on, Writer Liu (aka Success Liu) is also reincarnated as PR Liu, Deputy Liu, and CEO Liu (C Liu for short), and Blacksmith Tong and his fellow http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn6 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn7 investors in Li's enterprises are transformed into VPs and shareholders. This replication projects what might have been simply a parodic, tongue-in-cheek biography of one "successful individual" (成功人士) into a more generalized societal narrative arc. Nowadays, even the most passive and witless person cannot help but become an entrepreneur. Brothers is a symphony of many movements, and the novel shifts registers (to both comic and tragic effect) so often that the endless oscillation between the hilarious, the malicious, the tragic, and the improbable becomes a type of continuity itself—history as an emotional rollercoaster. In the latter chapters leading up to the beauty pageant, the narrative passage of time accelerates to convey a growing sense of the surreal. Yu Hua's farce is as much about emotional intensification as it is about narrative movement. This partly explains why the novel is, as the translators note, "often deliberately repetitive" (viii). Earlier reviewers have nevertheless tended to favor Part I, which contains a tight package of comedy, pathos, and violence in a familiar Cultural Revolution setting. Part II has attracted moral objections from readers offended by its scatology, sex, misogyny, and general irreverence. Some readers less susceptible to the author's baiting have been offended by the perceived self- indulgence of Part II, in which the narrative sometimes seems geared mostly to enumerating contemporary societal ills. The inventory approach is well suited to installment fiction—think Wu Jianren's Strange Events Eyewitnessed Over Twenty Years 二十年目睹之怪现状—in which discrete episodes may be enjoyed in small doses, and Brothers is full of many triumphant set pieces. For a reader accustomed to the linguistic and structural economy of Yu Hua's earlier novels, however, Brothers may appear to lack restraint. Is it paradoxical to demand restraint of a work whose underlying mode is excess? In trying to explain the bagginess of Part II, Chen Sihe, among other critics, has dubbed Brothers "carnivalesque"[8] —an interpretation that Yu Hua himself has praised as most nearly approximating the novel's agenda. And indeed, one can tick off a list of Rabelaisian elements, including scatology, sex, a parodic and profane linguistic stew, and an air of merry effervescence. The sacred cows may be different than those of the French Renaissance, but the rhetoric of excess and theme of universal degradation are similar. What the carnivalesque paradigm cannot explain away is the heavy-handed juxtapositions, which to me is the novel's main flaw. This is partly a structural issue: the contrasting trajectories of Baldy Li and Song Gang (echoed to a degree by the ascendant Writer Liu and abjected Poet Zhao) are simply too stark, and the dualistic narrative framework (two eras, two brothers, life and death, exultation and despair, revolution and commercialization, virginity and licentiousness, etc.) leads Yu Hua toward pat morals—witness the "nice guys finish last" lesson of Song Gang's decline. The buffoonish Greek chorus is especially welcome in this respect because it breaks the dualistic structure and because its members' predictably reflexive antics keep bathos at bay. But heavy-handedness is occasionally a matter of narration too, as, for example, in Chapter 74. As Baldy Li and Lin Hong embark on their final, epic bout of sex (during which Baldy Li straps on a miner's headlamp to inspect Lin's fake hymen), Song Gang eats his last meal of "straw- embedded buns" before walking to the train tracks to commit suicide. The narrator remarks: http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn8 Thus was life: Someone who was walking toward death might linger over the setting sun's glorious rays, while two others who were hedonistically pursuing pleasure might be completely oblivious to the beauty of the sunset. (603) The didactic impulse behind such mawkish moments tips the farceur's hand. The effect is patronizing, but more to the point it is unnecessary, since the contrast is clear enough. Insofar as broad farce paints in bright colors and takes reductionism as its stock in trade, Brothers is a satisfying romp whose iterative mode continually refreshes its comic muse. The novel truly offends only when it switches from the farcical mode of offense to defensive moral apologia— moments at which the sound we hear is neither Wagner nor Bach but Muzak. The English version of Brothers was a joint effort by two translators, each of whom translated one book (Chow, Part I; Rojas, Part II) and then revised the other's work. On the whole, this division of labor has resulted in a consistent narrative voice and style between the two parts. The translators have also made a good strategic decision in italicizing idioms, proverbs, literary allusions, and other set phrases,[9] which collectively play a key role in the novel's strategy of linguistic misuse and abuse. Each truism is held up for ridicule, either applied in an incongruous setting, as when Song Gang acts as "military advisor" to Baldy Li and tells him to pursue Lin Hong by penetrating behind enemy lines (250), or voiced by a buffoon, as when Poet Zhao sighs that by letting his girlfriend coerce him into marriage Writer Liu has become a case of a single misstep leading to regret of a thousand ages (14). (The townsfolk retort that "He bedded her a hundred times, so at the very least that would make it a hundred missteps.") The numerous names, slogans, and titles are also generally as vivid in English as the original Chinese. "Yanker Yu," for instance, is an inspired rendering of Yu Baya 余拔牙, the double-Y nicely substituting for the double-A alliteration in Mandarin. This reader's only quibble with an otherwise splendid translation is that occasional lines of dialogue could have benefitted from a more colloquial rendering. Baldy Li's pronouncements, for example, are generally translated in formal diction, in keeping with the staginess of Yu Hua's farce. The tone of deliberate artifice could still be attained (and Li' newfound enthusiasm for reading conveyed with more punch), however, if the line cited at the beginning of this review were rendered as: "Reading's great! Going a day without reading's even more uncomfortable than going a month without taking a dump." To take just one other example, the punch line of Chapter 2—Baldy Li's reproach to Poet Zhao for having arrived at the public toilet too early and preventing him from seeing all of Lin Hong's nether regions—might have been shortened as follows (after the original and Rojas's and Chow's translation): "十分钟？"李光头低声叫道，"你这王八蛋晚进来十秒钟都成了。"(I.25) "Ten minutes?" Baldy Li grumbled. "If you had arrived ten seconds later, even that would have been enough, you bastard." (23) "Ten minutes?" Baldy Li grumbled. "Ten seconds later would have been enough, you son-of-a- bitch." Farce is by no means an inevitable response to the absurdity or surrealism of reality, no matter what stage of capitalism or (post-)modernity one believes China to currently inhabit. Indeed, Yu http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn9 Hua's most recent book, China in Ten Words 十個詞彙裡的中國 (Rye Field, 2010), takes a more expository approach to many of the same issues broached in Brothers through a combination of autobiography, theory, etymology, and other narrative styles. While it is beyond the scope of this review to situate Brothers within the rich genealogy of modern Chinese farce, it is easy to find within its pages echoes of Wu Jianren, Li Boyuan, Chen Baichen, and Lao She, as well as points of comparison with contemporaries such as Wang Shuo, Yan Lianke, and Mo Yan. Baldy Li, for instance, might be read as a more universalized reincarnation of Wang's entrepreneurial hooligans, who were so tied to their Beijing milieu; Yan's retribution tale Dream of Ding Village, meanwhile, is a carnival of death in a different key, created and exploited by a ruthless entrepreneur.[10] Mo Yan's Life and Death are Wearing Me Out bursts with hilarious farcical episodes voiced by his animal narrators.[11] It is worth asking why farce has so appealed to Yu Hua's generation of writers, as well as how they have brought it to bear on fictional works set during the Cultural Revolutio versus those set after the Cultural Revolution. Given how many of them have represented both periods as eras of frenzied violence—one physical, one economic—to what extent does the past, which can at least be reimagined with some affection, hold more appeal to them than the vulgar trappings of contemporary society? Whatever the answer, Brothers is a rich and complex work that is sure to be recognized as a landmark in the history of modern Chinese literary farce. Christopher Rea University of British Columbia Notes: [1] Chinese page numbers cited are from the Shanghai wenyi editions, 2005 (I), 2006 (II). [2] Patriarch privy deaths also occur in Yu Hua's earlier fiction, notably the grandfather figures in "The Death of a Landlord" (一个地主的死; 1992) and To Live (活着; 1992). [3] See especially: Edith Kern, The Absolute Comic (New York: Columbia University Press, 1980); and Jessica Milner Davis, Farce (London: Transaction Publishers, 2003). [4] See Kern, The Absolute Comic, pp. 87-102 on Lolita as farce, and passim on the relationship between farce and tragedy, which I discuss further below. On Camel Xiangzi as a farce, see: David Wang, Fictional Realism in Twentieth-Century China: Mao Dun, Lao She, Shen Congwen (New York: Columbia University Press, 1997), ch. 4: "Melancholy Laughter: Farce and Melodrama in Lao She's Fiction." [5] Yu Hua, "China's Vast Disparities: A Self-Portrait" (巨大差距的自画像). Fourth Annual Yip So Man Wat Memorial Lecture, The University of British Columbia (Feb. 25, 2009). Subsequent references to Yu Hua's comments about Brothers refer to those made at this event and during personal interviews during his Vancouver visit. For another potential example of this modal shift, see the passages surrounding Song Gang's death at the end of Chapter 73. http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn10 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fn11 mailto:chris.rea@ubc.ca http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb1 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb2 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb3 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb4 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb5 [6] See: 陈思和，<评《兄弟》>.Reposted on: www.yuedu.org/books/%E5%85%84%E5%BC%9F/10528. [7] See, for example, my article about the Republican cultural entrepreneur and comic personality Xu Zhuodai 徐卓呆 (1880-1958) in MCLC 20:2. Abstract: http://mclc.osu.edu/jou/abstracts/rea.htm. [8] See: 陈思和〈我对《兄弟》的解读〉《文艺争鸣》第二期（2007 年）. Reposted on: www.douban.com/group/topic/17345823/. For more on the reception of Brothers within China, see: Anne Wedell-Wedellsborg. "Multiple Temporalities in the Literary Identity Space of Post- socialist China: A Discussion of Yu Hua's Novel Brothers and Its Reception," in Jens Damm and Andreas Steen, eds., Postmodern China (Vancouver, BC: University of British Columbia Press, 2010). [9] See, for example, pp. 14, 24-25, 250, 256, 269, 279, 280, 289, 431, 530. [10] Ding Hui, the village's "bloodhead" and the narrator's father, is something of an unrepentantly evil Baldy Li. See, for instance, their contrasting entrepreneurial responses to death: Ding Hui's "discount" sale of ornate coffins to the AIDS victims he is responsible for infecting; and the jerry-rigged "exclusive-use cart" Baldy Li "filially" procures and assembles for Li Lan to ride on to Song Fanping's grave. [11] See, for instance, the short-lived love affair between donkeys Naonao and Huahua: Mo Yan. Life and Death are Wearing Me Out: A Novel. Tr. Howard Goldblatt (New York: Arcade Publishing, 2008), pp. 59-60. http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb6 http://www.yuedu.org/books/%E5%85%84%E5%BC%9F/10528 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb7 http://mclc.osu.edu/jou/abstracts/rea.htm http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb8 http://www.douban.com/group/topic/17345823/ http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb9 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb10 http://mclc.osu.edu/rc/pubs/reviews/rea.htm#fnb11 
work_4x6rk5t43jfytin6q7jpmqhsoy	----	A Framing the Early Modern French Best Seller: American Settings for François de Belleforest’s Tragic Histories HERVÉ-THOMAS CAMPANGNE, University of Maryland, College Park This article shows how François de Belleforest (1530–83) adapted a variety of historical and geo- graphical sources to meet the demands of the histoire tragique genre in composing three narratives set in the Americas. One recounts the destiny of conquistador Francisco Pizarro; another is the story of Marguerite de Roberval, who was allegedly marooned on a Canadian island; the third concerns Taino cacique Enriquillo’s heroic rebellion in 1520s Hispaniola. These narratives fostered a tragic im- age of the Americas that had a considerable influence on early modern readers, inviting them to ponder essential questions about European encounters with the American continent and its inhabitants. INTRODUCTION IN THE PRELIMINARY epistle to his famous anthology of Histoires tragiques (Tragic histories, 1559), a compilation of six narratives borrowed from Matteo Bandello’s (ca. 1485–1561) Novelle (1554), French author Pierre Boaistuau (1517–66) thanked his collaborator François de Belleforest (1530–83) for his work on a translation that “would probably not have been published without his help.”1 Boaistuau also announced the imminent publication of Belleforest’s Continuation des Histoires tragiques (1559),2 which would mark the beginning of one of the most successful literary collections in late sixteenth-century France and Europe. Between 1559 and 1582, Belleforest published five volumes of histoires tragiques, compris- ing ninety-eight stories of passion, murder, and revenge that were reissued sev- eral times by printers in Paris, Lyon, Rouen, and Torino. These early modern best I would like to thank those who helped me improve this article, especially the two anonymous read- ers at RQ, and my University of Maryland colleague Lauretta Clough. 1 Boaistuau, 6: “qu’à peine fust-elle sortie en lumiere sans son secours.” All translations are the author’s except where otherwise noted. 2 Ibid.: “But since I hope he will soon publish his own translation of the second tome, I will refrain from speaking more in his praise.” Renaissance Quarterly 71 (2018): 77–113 © 2018 Renaissance Society of America. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 78 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY sellers soon became a European phenomenon, as shown by their translation into Spanish, German, and English.3 A number of factors may have contributed to the unprecedented success of Belleforest’s collection. His histoires were mostly printed in small and less costly formats that were affordable for a wider audience. By the fifth installment in the series, Belleforest felt he had reached readers of varied stations and competencies: Withall, esteeming my selfe more than satisfied in this contentment and free- dome which I now injoy, being loved of the nobilitie, for whom I travell with- out grudging, favoured of men of learning and knowledge, for admiring and reverencing them according to their worthinesse, and honoured of the com- mon people, of whom, although I crave not their judgment, as not esteeming them of abilitie to eternize the name of a worthy man, yet I account my selfe sufficiently happy to have attained to this felicitie, that few or no men refuse, or disdaine to reade my workes, many admiring and wondering thereat.4 The novelist envisioned his histoires tragiques as a bridge between court culture and a broader readership that included members of the noblesse de robe as well as the cultured bourgeois and merchants who were the customers of Jean Hul- peau and other printers in both Paris and the provinces. Belleforest’s intent to reach a wide audience is equally apparent in the argument that introduces the sixth narrative in his Cinquiesme Tome des Histoires Tragiques (Fifth tome of the tragic histories, 1572), where he explains that he is not merely writing for those who fancy “the divinity of poetry” or the “magnificent conceits of our French poets,” but rather for “ordinary people.”5 Michel Simonin has suggested that the success of the histoires tragiques was the result of a gap in the commercial literary market of late 1550s France. Belle- 3 Juan de Millis Godínez’s Historias Trágicas exjemplares (1589), for example, are not direct translations of Bandello’s Novelle. Rather, the Spaniard chose to translate fourteen stories taken from the French histoires tragiques due to their pleasant and polished style, and “because they were well received by all” (Godínez de Millis, fol. 4r), a phenomenon Claudio Curlet, the printer of the Historias, attributed to the ethical considerations that Belleforest added to his Italian model. In England, translators Robert Smythe, George Tuberville, and Geoffrey Fenton turned to Belleforest, as did William Painter, who is forthright as to his preference for French versions of Bandello’s tales in his Palace of pleasure. On English translations of Belleforest’s histoires, see Pruvost, 1–2; Hook. Heitsch provides an interesting case study illustrating the migration of one of Belleforest’s histoires tragiques across borders. 4 This quotation is taken from the English translation of Belleforest’s Hamlet story titled The Hystorie of Hamblet (1603), reproduced in Gollancz, 283. 5 Belleforest, 2013, 328. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 79 A forest’s series gained fame just as the reading public’s enthusiasm for another Renaissance best seller, the Amadis de Gaule series, began to wane.6 Although the opportunistic approach typical of Belleforest and his printers no doubt ac- counts for the commercial success of the histoires tragiques, it does not entirely explain their vast appeal among sixteenth-century readers. The writer’s ability to respond to varied and often contradictory expectations played a large part in their overwhelming success. As Belleforest often reminds the dedicatees of his books, he saw himself as a moralist writing “for the guidance of life and the for- mation of good habits.”7 “Virtue only is what I propose and depict in this paint- ing,” he told Claude D’Aubray (1526–1609) in his Troisièsme tome des histoires tragiques (Third tome of the tragic histories, 1569).8 Yet Belleforest is also forthright about his ambition to entertain readers with what he calls a “diversity of stories.”9 The histoires tragiques collection provided tales of adventure and passion, as well as political tragedies, faits divers (news items), and stories about exotic lands. Their author delighted in his ability to construct narratives that would stir up fear, pity, and countless other emotions in his read- ers: “Seeing your sad faces, paling from the shameful deed of Boleslas’s murder of his brother, and from the terrifying judgment of God’s punishment of the dam- nable mother Drahomire, I therefore did not want to continue discourses so tragic that they no longer bring you pleasure and comfort, but anguish and cause for grief, so I have instead chosen a story dedicated to the pursuit of love.”10 As this quotation suggests, the histoires tragiques series, in spite of its name, also included more pleasant tales that did not end in bloodshed or misfortune.11 Well aware that ancient Greek tragedy included plays with fortunate endings, Belleforest understood the need to lower the painful tensions and to relieve the emotional overload induced in his readers by his more tragic and bloody histoires, for at least the space of a story. In some cases, Belleforest’s narratives even verged on erot- icism, as, for example, in his depiction of the innamorento (love at first sight) 6 See Simonin, 1985, 2:587. 7 Belleforest, 1570a, fol. 152r: “pour l’institution de la vie, et formation des bonnes mœurs.” 8 Belleforest, 1569, fol. 4r (“Epistre a noble et excellent Seigneur Monsieur Claude d’Aubray”): “la seule vertu est celle que je propose et effigie en ceste painture.” 9 Belleforest, 2013, 4. 10 Belleforest, 1583, 164: “Voyant vos faces tristes, et palissantes pour le fait indigne du mas- sacre de Boleslas sur son frere, et pour l’effroyable jugement de Dieu punissant la maudicte mere Drahomire, je n’ay aussi voulu continuer les discours si tragics qu’ils ne vous apportent plus de plaisir, et soulas, que d’ennuy, ou argument de tristesse, ains plustost ay choisi une histoire pleine de poursuite d’amour.” 11 The idea that histoires tragiques were not necessarily in the vein of tragedy was made clear by the inventor of the genre. See Boaistuau, 7. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 80 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY that precedes the tragic events recounted in the eighth story of the Septiesme tome des histoires tragiques (Seventh tome of the tragic histories, 1583).12 Over a period of thirteen years, Belleforest created a successful formula, de- signing a series that staged a cast of recurrent characters: the star-struck lovers whose relationship is forbidden by their families, the jealous husband who takes cruel revenge on his unfaithful wife, the barbaric or despotic foreign prince, the heroic leader who experiences a reversal of fortune, the well-to-do lord who falls into crime, etc. Belleforest’s histoires also included the embellishments that his public relished:13 epistles written by heroes and lovers, military discourses, and long monologues that depicted the scruples of villains, as well as the despair of men and women struck by misfortune. In sum, he found a perfect balance between a tradition that owed much to the Amadis de Gaule series, on the one hand, and to the attractiveness of a collection that went beyond the conventions of chivalric romance, on the other. In later volumes in the series, Belleforest continued to expand on the novel- ties he introduced into the genre, providing judicial narratives that depicted him- self as an eyewitness.14 Other innovations included tales that recalled the popular canards that circulated in late sixteenth-century France. Mindful of his public’s “eagerness for new things,”15 Belleforest also decided to give the series a completely new direction as he prepared the Quatriesme tome des histoires tragiques (Fourth tome of the tragic histories, 1570). In the dedication of this volume to Françoise de la Baume (ca. 1537–1608), he explained that he would no longer be satisfied with translating tales borrowed from Bandello’s Italian Novelle. Instead, he would compile stories selected from writers and historians that he described as “good authors who cannot be suspected of lying.”16 As suggested by the full title of the Quatriesme tome des histoires tragiques, partie de l’invention de l’autheur françois, contenant vingt-six histoires, enrichies et ornées avec plus de diligence que les précédentes par François de Belleforest (Fourth tome of the tragic histories, partly invented by the French author, containing twenty-six sto- ries, more diligently improved and embellished than the previous ones, by Fran- çois de Belleforest), these novellas were not mere translations. Belleforest actually reinvented stories that he had read, in many cases, as he was preparing his Histoire 12 In this histoire, a gentleman named Federic asks his beloved to extinguish the “raging inferno of his love” with the “dew of her sweetness”: Belleforest, 1583, 228. He later dreams she is cov- eted by an “angry wolf” who uncovers her “private parts”: ibid., 231. 13 On Belleforest’s embellishments and additions to Bandello’s Novelle, see Sturel, 72–141. Arnould provides an in-depth analysis of Belleforest’s style and language. 14 On these narratives, see Campangne, 2010. 15 Belleforest, 2013, 579. 16 Belleforest, 1571, 7: “de bons auteurs, et iceux non suspects de mensonges.” This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 81 A universelle (1570) and his augmented translation of Sebastian Münster’s Cosmo- graphia Universalis (1544). The fourth book of the Histoire universelle and second volume of the Cosmographie (1575) depict the Americas. Since Belleforest, un- like rival cosmographer André Thevet,17 could not pride himself on the firsthand experience afforded by a voyage to the American continent, he relied heavily on works by Peter Martyr d’Anghiera (1457–1526), Girolamo Benzoni (1519–ca. 1570), Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo y Valdès (1478–1557), and more gener- ally turned to the “fountain of the first conquerors of these lands.”18 It is no surprise, then, that among the novelties in the Quatriesme tome des histoires tragiques, readers would find the first histoire tragique written about the Americas, titled “Diverses occurrences sur ce qui se passa entre les gens du Roy d’Espaigne au nouveau monde, et des seigneurs occis par les menées les uns des autres” (Various occurrences concerning what happened between the Spanish king’s men in the New World, and of the lords who were killed because of their conspiracies). Two other American stories would soon follow: the fifth volume of the histoires tragiques—originally published in 1570 under the title Discours memorables de plusieurs histoires tragiques (Memorable discourses on several tragic histories)—contains a version of Marguerite de Navarre’s famous Marguerite de Roberval tale and a narrative that chronicles the life of Enriquillo, a Taino cacique who led a heroic rebellion against the Spanish conquistadores in 1520s Hispaniola. This article will show that through these three American histoires tragiques, Belleforest experimented with a new form of narrative that borrowed as much from cosmography and the travel narratives he researched in the course of pre- paring his geohistorical writings (comprising the 1570 Histoire universelle and the augmented translation of Münster’s Cosmographia published in 1575) as from the novella tradition practiced by Bandello. Significantly, these stories created an im- age of the conflicts and wars of the Americas that was informed by the theory and practice of tragedy as defined in Belleforest’s time. Their author also depicted the destiny of three characters who experienced the conquest of the American con- tinent in very different ways: a well-known Spanish figure of the invasion of the Inca Empire, an adventurous young woman who took part in an expedition to Canada only to meet a disastrous fate, and a Taino cacique who chose to resist the tyrannical rule of the conquistadores. In so doing, Belleforest was led to pon- der essential questions about European encounters with the Americas. 17 On the rivalry between Belleforest and Thevet, see Lestringant, 1991, 189–225. 18 Belleforest, 1575, 2:fol. aiijr. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 82 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY THE CONQUISTADOR Borrowed from Francisco López de Gómara’s Historia general de las Indias (General history of the Indies, 1552), Belleforest’s first American histoire tragique describes the conflict that pitted Francisco Pizarro (ca. 1475–1541) against Diego de Almagro (ca. 1475–1538) in Peru and Chile, ending with the assassination of Pizarro in 1541. From the outset, the author underscores both the modernity and the ethical scope of the story he is about to recount: “So that whoever wants to deceive his enemy does not need to go as far as past centuries, nor leaf through the books of the Greeks or Romans: since to speak truthfully, whoever reads what has been written about the Spanish conquests can boast about having had a taste of everything that is crafty, deceitful, and cunning in history.”19 As Belleforest re- searched the historiography of the Spanish conquest of the American continent in preparation for the publication of his Histoire universelle,20 he realized that it included countless tales of betrayal, murder, and bloody conflicts that were ideally suited for the histoire tragique genre. In the passage just quoted, he imparts a neg- ative twist to a topos that was often exploited by Spanish historians of the con- quest of the Americas and, as David Lupher has shown, by the conquistadores themselves—namely, the idea that Spanish colonists had performed in a distant land deeds far greater than those of the most famed heroes of antiquity.21 Although Pizarro is compared to Julius Caesar in the argument that introduces Belleforest’s histoire, the parallel is not motivated by the Roman general’s conquests, but rather by his blind trust in his own greatness, which, according to the French writer, led to his brutal murder. In a similar vein, Pizarro is compared to Alexander the Great, not because of the Macedonian king’s great exploits, but on account of a shared sense of overconfidence, which allegedly prevented both men from taking the nec- essary precautions that could have saved their lives.22 Like many of his contemporaries who wrote about Pizarro, Belleforest used his depiction of the Spaniard’s life as an opportunity to reflect more generally on the conquest of the American continent. In his Les vrais pourtraits et vies des hommes illustres (The true portraits and lives of illustrious men, 1584), André Thevet’s praise of the conquistador’s prowess, destined to be inscribed in “im- mortal memory,” led him to justify the subjugation of the inhabitants of the 19 Belleforest, 1571, 752: “Tellement que qui veut ruser son ennemy, n’a point affaire de courir jusques aux siecles passez, ny de feuilleter les livres des Grecs ou des Romains: car pour en parler à la verité, qui lira ce qui est escrit des conquestes Espagnoles se pourra venter d’avoir gousté ce qui est fin, cauteleux, et dissimulé en l’histoire.” 20 The Pizarro story is briefly recounted in Belleforest, 1570c, fol. 296r. 21 Lupher, 8–31. 22 Belleforest, 1571, 723. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 83 A Americas on religious grounds.23 At the other end of the spectrum, the Protestant pastor Simon Goulart saw in Pizarro’s story an example of greed and avarice that would eventually be punished by divine justice: “Pizarro and Almagro, both fu- riously ambitious, greedy, and cruel Castilians who fought against each other, filled this great kingdom with unrest and civil wars that ruined both of them.”24 Quoting Girolamo Benzoni, whose Historia del Mondo Nuovo (History of the New World, 1565) harshly condemned Spanish colonial practices in the Amer- icas, Goulart claims that the excesses committed by Pizarro and other Castilians were such that the inhabitants of the Inca Empire believed them to be not men, but monsters “born from scum and excrement from the sea.”25 Although Belleforest does not go as far as Goulart, the author of the Thresor des histoires admirables et memorables de nostre temps (Admirable and memorable histories of our time, 1614), his condemnation of the deceitfulness of the con- quistadores clearly shows his disapproval of their actions in the Americas. In the Cosmographie universelle (1575), he suggests that their behavior provoked various forms of divine retribution: “Before I conclude this chapter, I will say that the conquest of Cuzco brought such misfortune to those who discovered it that there is hardly a man among those who led the expedition who did not die violently, whether through war, treason, or punishment.”26 The tragic destiny of the con- querors of Cuzco is described in similar terms in the Quatriesme tome des histoires tragiques, where Belleforest concludes his Pizarro narrative with thoughts on the tragedies and reversals of fortune that mar the lives of great men and princes. He reminds his readers that Pizarro’s fall from greatness was such that no one would even dare give him a proper burial. With this conclusion, the requirements of the histoire tragique genre as it had been designed by Boaistuau are met. Tragedy and the tragic are used to bring readers to reflect on miseria hominis and the vanity of their own worldly aspirations in the eyes of God. There is much more at play, however, in Belleforest’s Pizarro story. In the ar- gument that introduces this histoire tragique, the Spanish general is not only com- 23 Thevet, 1584, fol. 377v. 24 Goulart, 57: “Pizarre et Almagro, Castillans furieusement ambitieux, avares, cruels, en- trez en picque l’un contre l’autre, remplirent ce grand royaume de troubles et de guerres civiles, qui les ruinerent tous les deux.” 25 Ibid., 57–58. 26 Belleforest, 1575, 2:col. 2061: “Or avant que mectre fin à ce chapitre, je diray que la con- queste de Cusco a esté si malheureuse à ceux qui l’ont descouvert qu’à grand peine se trouve il un homme seul de ceux qui ont commandé en ce voyage, qui ne soit mort violemment, ou en guerre, ou par trahison, ou par justice.” The same idea appears in the Histoire universelle: see Belleforest, 1570c, fol. 296; the author believes that the ambition and greed of the Christian con- querors, as well as their infighting and their brutal killings of native kings, have led to their demise. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 84 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY pared to Julius Caesar and Alexander. In order to quite literally bring home for his readers the tragedies of the conquest of the Americas, Belleforest also estab- lishes a more modern parallel between Pizarro’s tardy reaction against the con- spirators who want to kill him and Tristan des Moneins’s indecision during the 1548 émeutes de la gabelle (salt-tax riots).27 He then compares the conquistador’s murder with the assassination of Duke François de Guise (1519–63), who is de- picted as a victim of his own courteousness: “because if he had used the methods that justice and war allow, he would be alive, and the king perhaps free of so many worries that torture his mind during these first years of his rash youth.”28 Pizarro’s tragic destiny parallels events that Belleforest described at length in his Histoire des neuf Roys Charles de France (History of the nine Kings Charles of France, 1568). During the siege of Orléans, Poltrot de Méré (ca. 1537–63), a Prot- estant convert, came to Guise to offer his services, claiming to be a deserter: “But as the lord Duke of Guise was on the verge of victory, either through assault, or through intelligence, the enemy who had not been able to vanquish this French Achilles and faithful servant of the crown either with the force of an army, or dur- ing so many meetings in various places, in the end defeated him by betrayal and surprise, in the guise of good faith and friendship.”29 Belleforest writes that in spite of all his qualities, fortune, and success, Pizarro shared with François de Guise a tragic flaw that López de Gómara also highlights in his Historia General de la Indias: he was “brave and honorable; but negligent of his safety and life.”30 The histoire tragique author finds in Pizarro’s destiny an exemplum that sheds light on a political and military tragedy, a “mirror”31 that should allow French readers to better understand events from their own contemporary history. The civil war brought about by Almagro’s and Pizarro’s hubris duplicates the troubles 27 In 1548, a rampaging mob rioted against the gabelle tax on salt in the city of Bordeaux. The lieutenant du roi, Tristan des Moneins, was brutally murdered as he attempted to negotiate with the crowd. 28 Belleforest, 1571, 723: “car s’il se fust aidé des moiens que la justice, et la guerre promettent, et il seroit en vie, et le Roy peut-estre delivré de tant de soucis, qui luy tourmentent l’esprit par les premiers ans de sa gaillardise.” 29 Belleforest, 1568a, 553: “Mais comme le seigneur Duc de Guyse fust sur le poinct de la victoire, fust par assault, ou par intelligence, l’ennemy qui n’avoit peu vaincre cest Achille fran- çois et fidele serviteur de la couronne, par et avec la force d’une armée, ny en tant de rencontres euz en si divers lieux le gaigna à la fin par trahison et surprise, et sous tiltre de bonne foy et amitié.” 30 López de Gómara, 269: “Fue grosero, robusto, animoso, valiente y honrado; mas negli- gente en su salud y vida.” 31 Belleforest often presents his histoires as mirrors; see, for example, Belleforest, 2013, 725. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 85 A that devastated France in Belleforest’s lifetime, an observation that the author underscores in the short argument that introduces his histoire.32 Belleforest reads the not-so-distant history of the conquest of the Americas through the prism of the more recent history of the French Wars of Religion, a tendency that also resonates, as Frank Lestringant notes, throughout the pages of the second volume of the Cosmographie universelle, devoted to the Americas.33 He therefore joins a group of writers and playwrights who, as Andrea Frisch points out in a recent essay, conceived of the rhetoric of tragedy and the tragic “as a po- tential instrument of political polemic, rather than as a discourse designed to mit- igate tensions.”34 Belleforest, translator of the Remonstrance aux princes françoys de ne faire point la paix avec les mutins et rebelles, A Monseigneur Le Duc de Guyse (A remonstrance to the French princes, against peace with the mutineers and rebels, to his lordship the duc de Guise, 1567) and author of the Remonstrance au peuple de Paris (A remonstrance to the people of Paris, 1568), who has been described as a “virulent pamphleteer,”35 imparts to the histoire tragique genre a political function that its first inventor clearly had not foreseen. While Pierre Boaistuau stands out as one of those moralists who Louis Van Delft—quoting Montaigne—has aptly described as spectateurs de la vie (spectators of life),36 Belle- forest turns the histoire tragique into a form of remonstrance, a call to arms in the vein of his late 1560s pamphlets. In this context, the infighting that took place during the Spanish conquest of Peru and the Inca Empire becomes an allegory of the violent political and ideological discords of late 1560s France. In his first American histoire tragique, Belleforest is primarily interested in de- picting the bloody conflicts that arise when men who are blinded by devouring ambition fail to remember that they owe their station and fortune to their sover- eign.37 In his view, just like the noblemen who have joined the ranks of the Hu- guenots in France, Pizarro, Almagro, and all those who fought for control of newly discovered lands in Peru and Chile had forgotten their allegiance to their king. The actions of a single disloyal man, Belleforest insists, can quickly bring about the downfall of all citizens.38 His story begs readers to stop anyone who 32 Belleforest, 1571, 721: “I feel such extreme grief of heart, when I see how the ambition and greed of seditious men in this kingdom have brought trouble and calamity upon our times and almost all of Christianity, that I cannot pass over any example pertaining to this matter without giving it some consideration.” 33 Lestringant, 1991, 212. 34 Frisch, 112. 35 Richter, 1984. 36 Van Delft, 5–11. 37 Belleforest, 1571, 758. 38 Ibid., 724. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 86 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY would follow Almagro’s seditious path, and invites King Charles IX not to post- pone the punishment of those who are conspiring against his legitimate sover- eignty.39 THE DAMOISELLE Belleforest soon returned to the Americas with two stories that he included in his 1570 Discours memorables de plusieurs histoires tragiques.40 The first was widely disseminated in sixteenth-century France, notably through Marguerite de Navarre’s Heptameron (1559) and André Thevet’s Cosmographie universelle (1575) and Grand insulaire (Island book, ca. 1586–87). It recounts the ordeal of a young woman who was allegedly stranded on a desert island during a voyage to the Americas. The damoiselle, as Belleforest calls her, had participated in an expedition under- taken by her brother. As often in his volumes of histoires tragiques, Belleforest presents his narrative as a nouvelle à clef: the brother and captain in question can easily be identified as Jean François de la Roque de Roberval (ca. 1500–60), who had been commissioned by King Francis I (1494–1547) to settle the province of Canada. During the crossing, the young woman falls in love with one of the gen- tlemen in Roberval’s company, secretly marries him, and becomes pregnant. Her brother, who soon finds out, is outraged by the couple’s behavior and by his sis- ter’s failure to ask him permission to marry. He disguises his wrath but prepares to take terrible revenge. Using the pretext of a provisioning stop, he abandons the wife and husband on a desert island. The couple survives as it can, the damoiselle gives birth, but her child dies of hunger. The gentleman soon meets the same fate, leaving his widow alone on the island, “numb with fear and astonishment,”41 until she is rescued by a passing ship after a few years. A comparison with Marguerite de Navarre’s version of the marooned damoi- selle’s story—which Belleforest was certainly familiar with—is revealing as to his ambitions. In the sixty-seventh story of the queen of Navarre’s Heptameron, the damoiselle is the wife of one of the craftsmen that Captain Roberval took on his expedition to “establish towns and forts” in Canada. Simontault, the story’s nar- rator, explains that this man is “a wicked traitor who was low enough to betray his master, and almost caused him to be taken prisoner by the natives.”42 These char- acters stand in stark contrast to those in Belleforest’s histoire tragique, where the 39 A great leader, he writes, is wrong to delay the punishment of those who are conspiring against his life: ibid., 721. 40 The dedication to the Discours memorables (Belleforest, 1570b) is dated 25 July 1570. The Quatriesme tome des histoires tragiques was published in May 1570. 41 Belleforest, 2013, 174: “transie de peur et estonnement.” 42 Marguerite de Navarre, 503. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 87 A damoiselle loathes the ship’s “women of low estate” who have “no name, no grace, nor honesty,”43 and where her lover is depicted as a gentleman whose mastery of arms is matched by his remarkable talent for letters and poetry.44 In keeping with Aristotelian theories of tragedy that were being disseminated by playwrights and influential writers of the time, Belleforest needs his “discours assez tragic” char- acters to be of higher status than those in Marguerite de Navarre’s tale,45 and he alters the plot accordingly. In the queen of Navarre’s version, Roberval is intent on punishing the traitor who has endangered his life; his wife begs the captain to spare him and to be left with him on a deserted island.46 In Belleforest’s nar- rative, the ship’s captain devises the couple’s exile as a horrifying surprise and a cruel punishment. The plot is now founded on a banissement, the type of exile that Jean de la Taille highlights in his Art de la tragédie (1572) as one of the sit- uations most likely to give rise to the passions and emotions peculiar to tragedy.47 Most importantly, Belleforest invents a close family relationship that is absent from the Heptameron story: the damoiselle is now the captain’s sister. The histoire tragique is based on what Aristotle describes as a tragic incident that occurs be- tween those who are near or dear to one another.48 Harm occurs among philoi,49 as in the best tragedies envisioned by the Greek philosopher and the theoreti- cians who disseminated ideas borrowed from the Poetics in late sixteenth-century France.50 Although Belleforest repeatedly claims he is recounting true events that oc- curred a little more than twenty years before he wrote his histoire tragique, the degree to which the damoiselle’s story is factual remains a matter of controversy. Yet this discussion, however important it is for historians of the Americas, does not fully account for the intended function of the tale. Belleforest is primarily interested in moving his readers with the story of a woman who has to endure the “more than barbaric cruelty” of her brother.51 The damoiselle’s story belongs to the line of the family tragedies that are at the center of most of Belleforest’s narratives: a man cruelly punishes his wife;52 a young prince avenges the mur- 43 Belleforest, 2013, 145. 44 Ibid., 139. 45 Ibid. As Charles Mazouer notes, in the second half of the sixteenth century, most French the- oreticians and playwrights systematically associated tragedy with aristocratic characters: Mazouer, 75. 46 Marguerite de Navarre, 503. 47 La Taille, fol. 2v. 48 Aristotle, 75 (1453b). 49 On harm to philoi as a central element in the plot structure of tragedy, see Belfiore. 50 See, for example, Scaliger, 366; Vauquelin de la Fresnaye, 134. 51 Belleforest, 2013, 176: “sa cruauté plus que barbare.” 52 See, for example, Belleforest, 1583, fols. 219r–250r (story 8). This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 88 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY der of his father by his own uncle;53 a prince kills his brother;54 a father kills his son.55 The general storyline remains the same—disputes among philoi bring about cruelties and horror that Belleforest describes in detail—but the distinct historical and geographical settings provide considerable variations. Throughout the five vol- umes of the histoires tragiques, the author invites readers on a long voyage that takes them to the Scandinavia of the ancient Danes, to France in the time of the wars between the Count of Foix (1331–91) and the Duke of Armagnac (1319–73), to Agen and Toulouse in the days of Belleforest’s youth, to the empire of Soliman the Great, and, in the case of the damoiselle’s story, to the Gulf of Saint Lawrence. This voyage to the Americas—or, more precisely, to the American continent as the cosmographer/histoires tragiques author envisions it based on his reading of ac- counts written by Spanish, Portuguese, and French travelers—provides the nov- elty that Belleforest has repeatedly promised his readers.56 Yet there is much more at play in the damoiselle story than the excitement of an exotic narrative designed to satisfy the unrelenting curiosity of readers of the histoires tragiques series. Writing about the Americas in his Cosmographie universelle, Belleforest explains that he favors a multiplicity of “texts, reports, memoirs, and instructions” over the testimony of a single eyewitness.57 Unlike rival cosmogra- pher André Thevet, whom he accused of relying excessively on his own limited experience, Belleforest prides himself on having had special access “through the favor of friends” to the memoirs of Jacques Cartier (1491–1557), Captains Lau- donnière (1529–74) and Gourgues (1530–93), and many others.58 Yet in the damoiselle story, he takes a different stance. The veracity of the incidents at hand is supposedly warranted by the single testimony of the protagonist: “this story, whose account has reached us through the testimony of the Damoiselle herself, freed of the danger that her chaste desire and virtuous love brought her.”59 This is not exactly true, as can be inferred from reading the 1580 edition of the Cinquiesme Tome des Histoires Tragiques, in which Belleforest admits that he learned of these peculiar events second hand.60 However, his insistence on the damoiselle’s per- 53 See, for example, Belleforest, 2013, 253–318 (story 5). 54 See, for example, Belleforest, 1583, fols. 147v–163v (story 5). 55 See, for example, Belleforest, 2013, 187–244, 325–90 (stories 4 and 6). 56 See, for example, ibid., 501, 579. 57 Belleforest, 1575, 2:fol. aiijr. 58 Ibid. 59 Belleforest, 2013, 139: “ceste histoire, le recit de laquelle est parvenu jusques à nous par le tesmoignage mesme de la Damoiselle delivrée du peril où son chaste desir et amour plein de vertu l’a conduit.” 60 Ibid., 181: “Not that she ever told me the story, since I have never seen her, to my knowl- edge, but I have heard it from reliable people who have assured me of the truth of the matter that I am about to recount.” This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 89 A sonal testimony in the original version of his narrative shows that here, as in other histoires tragiques, he is primarily interested in depicting an individual destiny through which he can go beyond the general information typical of his cosmo- graphic works. Unlike André Thevet, who inserted his version of the marooned couple in his ownCosmographie universelle,61 Belleforest makes a clear distinction between genres. Where his cosmographic texts are encyclopedic overviews that give precedence to “the true history of epochs, nations, kingdoms, empires, poten- tates, republics,”62 the histoire tragique is more akin to the genre of the vita as Plutarch understood it, a type of history that, as Jacques Amyot (1513–93) re- minded readers of his translation of Plutarch’s works, focuses on “people rather than things, on domestic matters rather than public events, on what is inside men rather than what is outside them.”63 Unlike Plutarch’s Vitae, however, Belleforest’s life of the damoiselle is a literary construct that artfully brings together both accurate geographic information and fictitious elements. This weaving of authentic and imaginary components is what gives the histoire tragique the modernity of what would today be called historical fiction. In his version of the story, and unlike his contemporaries Marguerite de Navarre and André Thevet, Belleforest gives readers a lengthy description of the transatlantic voyage that brings the French crew to the vicinity of Newfoundland,64 as well as a detailed account of the everyday life of men and women who have embarked on a ship whose captain intends to found a colony on the American continent. His depiction, however, is far from realistic. The gruesome conditions of Renaissance sea travel would have left little room for the gentleman’s courtly seduction of the damoiselle, or for the états d’âme (qualms and worries) of the two lovers. Among other contemporaries of Belleforest’s who crossed the Atlantic ocean, Jean de Léry describes his voyage as an atrocious experience that entails constant danger, a permanent need to hunt for food, violent confrontations with the crews of ships from rival countries, and repeated storms: “Then we were seized by a surge of the sea that continued for twelve days, during which—even aside from being very ill from the usual seasickness—there was not one of us who was not terrified at the ship’s swaying. Those especially who had never smelled sea 61 Thevet’s version can be found in his Cosmographie universelle: see Thevet, 1575, 2:fols. 1019r–1020r. See Bideaux, 191–99, for a modern edition of this text. 62 Belleforest, 1575, 1:fol. ijr: “la vraye histoire des temps, des nations, royaumes, empires, potentats, republiques, et estats de la police mondaine.” 63 Plutarch, 1784, 35. 64 The couple is abandoned just after the ship has passed the “isle des rats” (“island of rats”) and the “isle des esprits” (“island of spirits”). For a discussion of the latter’s location according to Renais- sance cartographers, see Bideaux, 93–100. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 90 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY air, nor danced such a dance, and who saw the sea so high and roiled up, thought at each instant that the waves were about to take us to the bottom.”65 In sharp contrast with Léry’s depiction, Belleforest’s histoire is interspersed with long poems written by the gentleman for his beloved damoiselle. With these poetic moments, and the music the protagonist plays on his lute, Belleforest’s readers—in spite of the author’s claim that the reality of the events he is recount- ing is far removed from the imagined story of Amadis and Oriane66—are trans- ported into the universe of the romances whose success with aristocratic readers the editors of the histoires tragiques collection sought to emulate. As Michel Bideaux observes, the verses in which the dying gentleman describes the island where he is to rest forevermore call to mind a poetical locus amoenus much more than they do the region of Newfoundland, where the story supposedly takes place.67 In view of the possible birth of the damoiselle’s child on the deserted island, Belleforest speculates as to the language that would be spoken by a child born in complete isolation, referring to Egyptian Pharaoh Psamtik I’s famous experiment as related in the Histories of Herodotus. Quoting Flavius Josephus’s Antiquities of the Jews, he reflects on the discoveries and inventions inscribed on the pillars of the sons of Seth.68 Before his death, the gentleman sings verses in which he refers to the legend of Deucalion and Pyrrha.69 Such details point to the idea that Belleforest, like many of his contemporaries, envisioned the Americas through the lens of Greco-Roman culture. The world he depicts, however, is not a place where a new golden age can be found. It is a tragic world, as he warns readers from the outset, when he tells them that they are about to read “a rather tragic discourse.”70 It is also a world where nature is deficient, unable to allow the couple to thrive and prosper. In this way, Belleforest presents a vision of the Americas as a weak and immature continent, an image that Buffon and others would later develop in their pseudoscientific writings.71 Interspersed throughout Belleforest’s narrative, lengthy digressions on the “dangerous currents neighboring the country of Mexico,” Gengis Khan’s great empire, or the possibly gigantic size of the inhabitants of the region of the Rio de la Plata are included for purely informational and entertainment value.72 Geo- graphic elements that are directly linked to the damoiselle story, on the other 65 Léry, 8. 66 Belleforest, 2013, 177. 67 Bideaux, 184. 68 Belleforest, 2013, 168. 69 Ibid., 170. 70 Ibid., 139. 71 On this idea see Gerbi, 3–80; Roger, 26–45. 72 Belleforest, 2013, 148–49. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 91 A hand, are often given a sketchier treatment. Rather than dwelling on the reality of the harsh Canadian winter that castaways such as those he portrays would have had to endure, Belleforest simply depicts the island as a “horrifying desert”73 where “ferocious wild beasts”74 roam and where the couple, who has heard many stories about the infamous isle des esprits, is left to fear the apparition of ghosts and spirits.75 In this dangerous and isolated place, the damoiselle experiences a re- demptive journey that echoes Christian as well as classical archetypes. In many ways, the ordeal and resilience of the couple who momentarily triumph over hos- tile nature foreshadow the modern genre of the robinsonade.76 Significantly, this is precisely how Aimé-Ambroise-Joseph Feutry, who translated Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe into French, read and understood Belleforest’s histoire tragique. In his Choix d’histoires tirées de Bandel, de Belleforest et de quelques autres auteurs (A choice of stories taken from Bandello, Belleforest, and a few other authors, 1758), Feutry rewrote Belleforest’s “Histoire d’une damoiselle françoise,” strip- ping it of its more tragic elements in order to transform it into a robinsonade- like adventure. In the same vein, Ferdinand Denis and Victor Chauvin included a version of the damoiselle’s tale in their 1863 Les Vrais Robinsons (The true Robinsons). In this case, as Arthur Stabler put it, the story was recounted “in a prose in the direct line of descent of Bernardin de Saint-Pierre and Chateaubriand.”77 The damoiselle’s tragedy, however, does not merely provide its readers with an exotic setting or with the modern-day exemplum of a woman whose great love and virtue allow her to overcome overwhelming adversity. It echoes ques- tions that Belleforest describes in his Histoire universelle and Cosmographie, two texts in which the lands of Canada and New France are given a rather succinct treatment compared to that of the Spanish and Portuguese conquests. Documen- tation about Baccaleos, the region of Newfoundland, Belleforest writes, is so thin that there is little to say other than it is a place where the sea is frozen most of the time and where people dress in pelts “just like in neighboring lands.”78 It actually seems to him that those few explorers—he thinks there may have been four or five at most—who have traveled to the northernmost lands in America have been so inattentive and inefficient that they “have only described the mores of their inhabitants as if they had been dreaming.”79 This prompts him to quickly 73 Ibid., 167: “ce desert espouvantable.” 74 Ibid., 177. 75 Ibid., 167. 76 See Lestringant, 2005b, 190–91. 77 Stabler, 33. 78 Belleforest, 1575, 2:col. 2194. 79 Belleforest, 1570c, fol. 252v: “Et encore ceux qui y ont passé se sont monstrez si peu diligens, que de n’escrire que comme en songeant les mœurs des peuples qui y habitent.” This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 92 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY turn to Florida, “where the French have undertaken various travels, and often ex- perienced various assaults of fortune.”80 In view of this paucity of documents, and at a time when, as Benjamin Schmidt points out, “scattered reports of Brazil and its riches fired the French imagination far more than the faux diamonds brought back from Canada,”81 the damoiselle’s story is a welcome addition that provides a supposedly true eyewitness account of events that took place during Belleforest’s—and his readers’—lifetime. Sig- nificantly, her adventure also echoes a pattern that the author describes in the pages of the Cosmographie: as the French attempted to establish colonies on the American continent, they repeatedly encountered failure and defeat. Their uto- pian undertakings were shattered either by internal strife or by the pressure of Portuguese and Spanish enemies. Such was the fate of Villegagnon’s colony, ru- ined by disagreements that pitted Catholic colonists against Protestant settlers; such was also the fate of Ribault’s Floridian settlement, which was brutally de- stroyed by the Spanish in 1565. Although the damoiselle does not face such ene- mies, her thirst for travel and discovery, her eagerness to “see the rarities that were reported to exist in strange lands,”82 are shattered by her brother’s cruelty. Later, her attempt to settle on an island using a few weapons and essential supplies is thwarted by a harsh and hostile environment, in spite of her ingenuity. Belle- forest’s message about the Americas is similar to the one that resonates through- out the pages of his Cosmographie: although many have ventured across the Atlantic Ocean with more or less successful outcomes, most have gained nothing but the experience itself.83 In the case of the demoiselle, however, this experience is extra- ordinary in nature, since it allows the protagonist to go beyond traditional gender roles.84 THE CACIQUE The third and final story that Belleforest wrote about the American continent is radically different from the Pizarro and the damoiselle narratives, in that it stages as its main protagonist not a European figure, but a Taino Indian. This histoire tragique, titled “Comme un cacique ou roitelet en l’isle espagnole se revolta contre le Roy d’Espagne pource que le gouverneur luy avoit denié justice” (How a cacique 80 Belleforest, 1575, 2:col. 2194: “La Floride . . . où les Françoys ont fait divers voyages, et experimenté souvent divers assaults de fortune.” 81 Schmidt, 36. 82 Belleforest, 2013, 137: “veoir les raritez qu’on racomptoit des païs estranges.” 83 Ibid., 136. 84 Ibid., 176: “she had made herself skillful at the greatest and most laborious exercises of gallant and magnanimous men.” This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 93 A or petty king rebelled against the king of Spain because the governor had denied him justice), takes place on the island of Hispaniola, at the time of one of the most famous indigenous rebellions against the conquistadores.85 In 1519, cacique Enriquillo led a group of Indians and fugitive African slaves in a revolt against the Spanish authority. The rebels encamped in the remote mountains of Baho- ruco and conducted raids of settlements and estates, repeatedly defeating or avoid- ing Spanish military patrols. The revolt lasted until 1533, when Captain Francisco Barrionuevo successfully conducted negotiations with the Tainos. A peace treaty was signed, granting Enriquillo and his men the right to live freely. In return, the cacique accepted to surrender the fugitive African slaves who had joined his re- bellion against the conquistadores. Significantly, Belleforest also describes the context of this uprising in a chapter of his Cosmographie universelle about the island of Hispaniola: Yet do not think that the Spaniards came to rule this island at their ease, and without bloodshed, since they were dealing with brave men, and bellicose and bold Princes, who were so powerful that for a long time they could not be tamed, as shown by king Canoabo, against whom captain Alonso de Ojeda fought a long and very dangerous war. This Cacique was finally vanquished, and taken prisoner with his brother; both men died of grief at being held captive, and even more of despair that they were going to be taken to Spain. This is also shown by king Guarionex, and by up to fourteen Caciques, against whom Christo- pher Columbus’s brother Bartholomew fought, until their defeat caused the Spanish to remain peaceful on the island, so that Guarionex and his brother Maiobanex having been vanquished, others kept quiet until cacique Henry re- belled against the Spaniards because of an injustice and outrage he suffered, as you can gather from the works of Gonzal of Oviedo, and as I seem to remem- ber having told you in my histoires tragiques.86 85 For a summary and analysis of these events, see Altman. 86 Belleforest, 1575, 2:cols. 2209–2210: “Or ne pensez que les Espaignols se soyent enseigneuris de ceste isle à leur aise, et sans effusion de sang, veu qu’ils avoyent affaire à des hommes vaillans, et des Princes belliqueux et hardis, et si puissants, que longtemps on ne les a peu dompter, tesmoin le Roy et Cacique Caonabo, contre lequel eut longue guerre et fort dangereuse le capitaine Alfonce de Hogiede, qui enfin le vainquit, et feit prisonnier avec son frere, et moururent ces deux Caciques de fascherie de se voir captifs, et plus encore de despit de ce qu’on les alloit mener en Espaigne, et le roy Guarionex, et avec luy jusqu’à quatorze Caciques, contre lesquels combatit Barthelemy Colomb frere de Christoffle, la deffaite duquel fut cause que les Espaignols demourerent paisibles en l’Isle, de sorte que ce Guarionex et son frere Maiobanex surmontez, le reste se tint coy jusqu’à ce que le cacique Henry se revolta contre les Espaignols pour une in- justice et tort qu’on luy avoit fait, ainsi que pourrez recueillir des œuvres de Gonçal d’Oviede, et qu’il me semble vous avoir discouru en mes histoires tragiques.” This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 94 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY Here Belleforest underscores the inherently tragic nature of a conquest that pitted the Spanish against Indian chieftains, who are presented as powerful and heroic princes. Far from being described as savages or barbarians, they belong to the class of “great princes” whose wars and destinies, according to one of Belleforest’s contemporaries, are at the very core of tragedy.87 This paragraph also points to an important distinction between two complementary kinds of histoires. Readers who are interested in the details of the story of “cacique Henry” are referred to Belleforest’s 1570 Discours memorables de plusieurs histoires tragiques, where Enriquillo’s uprising is the subject of a lengthy and comprehensive novella. The author clearly views his histoires tragiques as a complement to the universal, Poly- bian form of history practiced in his Cosmographie. Just as Polybius excluded highly dramatic episodes from his Histories,88 the encyclopedic volumes published as a considerably augmented version of Münster’s work did not leave sufficient room to dwell on the complex details that make up the destiny and fortune of individual figures and personalities. The histoire tragique, on the other hand, allows Belleforest to focus on a spe- cific image, on a fragment. It lets him provide exempla in the etymological sense of the word eximere: to take out, to remove, to take away.89 This aspect of his work is highlighted in the argument that prefaces the Enriquillo story in the Discours memorables: “Because examples serve as paintings for the minds of men, and be- cause posterity, if it is any good, strives to fashion itself according to the virtues and achievements of its ancestors, who left the memory of their integrity engraved in the writings of men who know what is to be appreciated in Man, who have no qualms about painting and portraying evil as well as good, and who show the colors of injustice as much as they sketch out justice and equity.”90 With its emphasis on exempla and, thus, on individual destinies, the histoire tragique rep- resents, as seen previously, a modernized version of Plutarch’s Lives, which pro- vided comparisons between illustrious men who lived in different times while 87 La Taille, fol. 2v: “Tragedy then, is a type and kind of poetry that is not ordinary, but as elegant, beautiful, and excellent as possible. Its only true subject is the piteous fall of great princes, the mutability of fortune, exile, war, pestilence, famine, captivity, the heinous cruelty of tyrants.” 88 Polybius, 455 (15:36.1–3). 89 On this etymology see Lyons, 9. 90 Belleforest, 2013, 539: “Entant que l’exemple est celuy qui sert de peinture à l’esprit des hommes, et que la posterité, si elle a rien de bon, s’estudie à se façonner selon les vertuz et perfec- tions des ancestres, qui ont laissé la memoire de leur integrité gravée ès escrits des hommes qui ayment ce qui est aymable en l’homme, ne se soucient de peindre et effigier aussi bien le mal que le bien, et expriment esgallement les couleurs de l’injuste comme ils dressent le crayon de la justice et equité.” This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 95 A thoroughly focusing on the “signs of the soul” rather than on all their great deeds and achievements.91 Belleforest clearly lists his objectives in the argument that introduces his Enri- quillo narrative. First, he explains that he intends to provide an entertaining and innovative tale in keeping with his promise to compose a volume of histoires tragiques that would be as varied and diverse as possible.92 Second, he emphasizes the exemplary nature of a story whose main topic is the iniquity of a judge who has refused to hear the complaint of a Taino cacique who has been wronged by a Spanish lord. His story extends a reflection borrowed from Machiavelli’s Discorsi sopra la prima deca di Tito Livio (Discourses on Livy, 1531) showing “how dan- gerous it is for a republic or a Prince not to avenge an injury done against the public or against a private person.”93 However, whereas the Italian author illus- trates his text with examples borrowed from ancient history (the siege of Clusium, the rape of Pausanias by Philip of Macedon), Belleforest intends to give his read- ers modern and living exempla that are “adapted to our manners,”94 and that are in keeping with the ways of Renaissance men and women. As he recounts the story of Enriquillo, the Taino cacique who fought Charles V’s soldiers in the mountain range of Bahoruco between 1519 and 1533, Belleforest significantly develops details he found in his main source, Gon- zalo de Oviedo’s La historia general y natural de las Indias (General and natural history of the Indies, 1535). Reworking, reordering, and considerably embel- lishing paragraphs borrowed from the Spanish historian’s account of Enriquillo’s rebellion, and adding elements taken from Las Casas’s Brevíssima relación de la destrucción de las Indias (A short account of the destruction of the Indies, 1552), Belleforest transforms the Taino chieftain into a full protagonist who delivers a number of speeches that play a crucial role in his narrative. Enriquillo directly ad- dresses Judge Vadillo, decrying his unjust sentence: “What? Is it a magistrate’s duty to judge in view of one’s status? Is it a judge’s calling to deny justice to one who has been wronged, and who, even though he has the means to avenge, still submits to his sentence? . . . No, No! You have taken advantage of us enough, and sus- tained your tyranny with the saintly name of justice for too long.”95 The man who is described elsewhere as a savage has become a spokesperson for Belleforest, 91 Plutarch, 1919, 225 (Life of Alexander). 92 Belleforest, 2013, 540. 93 Machiavelli, 195. 94 Belleforest, 2013, 540: “adaptés à nos façons.” 95 Belleforest, 2013, 548: “Quoy? Est-ce l’office d’un magistrat d’estre accepteur de personnes? Est-ce le devoir d’un juge de dénier justice à celuy qui est outragé, et mesme qui ayant les moyens de se venger, se sommet neantmoins à vostre sentence? . . . Non, non, c’est assez abusé de nous, et plus que trop entretenu vostre tyrannie avec le sainct nom de justice.” This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 96 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY who intends to show in his narrative, in accordance with Machiavelli’s precepts in his Discorsi, that a ruler who commits an injustice toward an individual is likely to face murderous revenge that can go as far as endangering his state or republic. Enriquillo’s speech also introduces harsh criticism of the tyranny and hypoc- risy of the Spanish conquistadores, a theme that Belleforest develops in several ways in his novella. In his Historia general, Oviedo described the negotiations that ended with a peace treaty between the Tainos and the Spanish in 1533; he mentions in passing that during these talks, Enriquillo “gave several specific ex- cuses and complaints about what had happened, recounting his rebellion from the beginning.”96 In Belleforest’s histoire tragique, this brief comment is replaced by a long, moving speech in which Enriquillo recounts the entire history of the conquest of Hispaniola by the Spanish (see the Appendix for a translated version of this speech). The cacique describes the atrocities committed by the conquer- ors, the spread of contagious diseases that decimated indigenous populations, and the enslaving of Tainos who were treated like mere animals. Unlike Oviedo, Belleforest presents Enriquillo as a protagonist who speaks for all the victims of the conquest of the Americas. His aim is to understand the motivations and psy- chology of a man who has led a rebellion that he does not hesitate to compare to the 1548 émeutes de la gabelle,97 as well as to the Sicilian Vespers.98 Enriquillo’s exemplary courage also leads the novelist to reflect more generally on the inhabitants of the American continent. In the one and only paragraph that made mention of their existence in his Pizarro story, Indians were depicted as cruel, bloodthirsty cannibals.99 Belleforest never questioned the image of the so- called savages that came directly from López de Gómara’s Historia. However, in his Enriquillo narrative, he reexamines the very notion of barbarism: “So ask yourselves whether these men . . . who simply follow nature, will agree to being conquered and oppressed by great and unjust tyranny, since they abhor any for- eign dominion. If they do submit to it, it is only to examine it, because it seems to carry a hint or image of virtue. That is why I do not want to call them Barbarians, since their soul surpasses the harshness of those who stray from civility.”100 A few 96 Oviedo y Valdés, fol. livr (5:7): “E diçiendo esto dio muchas desculpas particulares é quexas de lo que con el se avia fecho: relatando desde el prinçipio de su alçamiento.” 97 Belleforest is referring to the 1548 riot against the gabelle tax on salt in the city of Bor- deaux. 98 The Sicilian Vespers is the name given to the massacre with which the Sicilians began their revolt against the French-born king Charles I, who had ruled the Kingdom of Sicily since 1266. Its name derives from a riot that took place in a church outside Palermo at the hour of vespers on Easter Monday, 1282. 99 See Belleforest, 1571, 755. 100 Belleforest 2013, 543: “Or pensez si ces hommes . . . suyvant simplement la nature, sont pour souffrir qu’on les renverse et accable avec l’iniquité d’une grande tyrannie, puis This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 97 A years before Michel de Montaigne published his famous essay “On Cannibals,” Belleforest found in the historiography of the Americas an example of courage and honnesteté (gallantry) that he deems worthy of “the most excellent and brave captains whose story we can read in ancient and modern history.”101 Like Mon- taigne’s essay, Belleforest’s histoire tragique is designed to bring readers to re- consider their prejudice against savages and to grasp the extent of the atrocities committed by Europeans in the Americas,102 as well as at home during the Wars of Religion. Significantly, the argument that introduces the Enriquillo narrative contains an anecdote borrowed from Alvise Cadamosto’s (ca. 1432–83) Navigazioni (1507) that shows that true cannibals may not be who and where Europeans think they are. People living in the region of the Gambia River, Belleforest writes, refused any form of acquaintance with foreigners. This was not due to their inherently savage nature, but rather to their fear of white men, whom they believed to be cannibals who enslaved black men in order to eat them.103 As mentioned earlier, Belleforest views his Enriquillo histoire tragique as a complement to the chapters of his Cosmographie universelle that deal with the Americas, and, more specifically, with the island of Hispaniola, including the fol- lowing depictions of the Taino Indians: I will tell you what is mentioned by Pierre Martyr: in the land of Guaccaiarimà, there are wild men, not hairy as we think, and as they are represented, but who stay away from trafficking, and the company of others; they are found in the woods, and caverns and grottoes in the mountains, and they live off fruits and what the earth provides freely. They have no laws, no lords, and speak to no one, and when they are captured, it is impossible to tame them. In sum they are like beasts, except for their body, because they are well shaped and pro- portioned; they go naked, and run as fast as a deer, and it is as difficult to catch them as it is to tame them. However the other inhabitants of this is- land, I mean those who are native to the country, whom I will call Haitians, qu’ils detestent toute seigneurie estrangere, ou s’ils la reçoivent, ce n’est que pour la voir, ayant quelque image et effigie de vertu; voilà pourquoy ne les veux appeler Barbares, puis que leur ame excede la rudesse de ceux qui s’esgarent de l’honnesteté.” 101 Ibid., 578. 102 Belleforest’s examination of the notion of barbarism also echoes a tradition that appears in the accounts of many of the earlier conquerors of the Americas, and that became a central theme of Las Casas’s writing (especially in his two Historias, which were not published until the nineteenth century). On this tradition, see Lupher, 237–88. 103 Belleforest read the anecdote in Ramusio’s Delle Navigationi et Viaggi (Of navigations and voyages), which had been translated into French by Jean Temporal in 1566. See Ramusio, fol. 116v. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 98 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY are naïve and simpleminded, and only care to live idly in the shade, so that they do not need too many things, since they go naked, and have all sorts of fruits that the earth produces for them, which are enough to feed them.104 Here Belleforest simply provides readers with generic images of the inhabi- tants of the American continent, as is generally the case throughout the pages of his continuation of Münster’s encyclopedic work, a book that deals with the patterns of “migrations, conquests, changes and ruin” of successive civilizations:105 people in Cuzco sacrifice their children every month and paint their idols’ faces with their blood;106 the cannibals of Brazil are bloodthirsty savages who do not hesitate to roast and eat the newborn progeny of their enemies “just as we do with veal, lambs, and goats.”107 These depictions borrowed from Francisco Xérez (1495–ca. 1565) and Oviedo are occasionally supplemented with more nuanced thought concerning the laws and customs of the “occidental Indians.”108 Writing about the inhabitants of Brazil, Belleforest borrows from Peter Martyr an anecdote that features an old Indian who advises Columbus to treat his fel- low tribesmen with respect, and expands on the Taino belief in the punishment of the souls of those who have acted badly and cruelly: This harangue surprised Columbus (not without reason), who did not think he would find so much philosophy in the mind of this barbarian. I have men- tioned it here for you so that you can see that these people are not as bestial 104 Belleforest, 1575, 2:cols. 2205–2206: “Je vous diray ce qui est allegué par Pierre Martir, c’est qu’en la contrée de Guaccaiarimà, il y a des hommes sauvages, non qu’ils soyent velus, ainsi qu’on pense, et qu’on nous le paint, mais qui se tiennent separez du commerce, et compaignie des autres, ont leurs habitudes ès boys, et par les cavernes, et grottesques des montaignes, ne vivent que de fruits, et de ce que la terre leur produit gratuitement: ils sont sans loys, ny seigneur, ou accostent personne voir ayans esté pris, il a esté impossible de les apprivoiser, en somme ils sont du tout bestiaux, sauf que de la figure, car ils sont bien proportionnez, et formez, vont tout nuds, et courent aussi viste qu’un Cerf, et à grand peine les peut on rattaindre, comme encor on n’a peu que les dompter. Au reste les autres habitans de ceste Isle, j’entens ceux qui sont naturels du pays, et que j’appelleray Haitiens, sont fort simples, et de peu d’esprit, ne se soucians, (comme j’ay dit) que de vivre à l’ombre oisivement, aussi n’ont ils besoing de guere grandes choses, comme ceux qui vont touts nuds, et ausquels la terre produit tant de sorte de fruits, qu’ils leurs suffisent pour leur nourriture.” 105 Ibid., 1:fol. Iiij. 106 Ibid., 2:col. 2056. 107 Ibid., 2:col. 2072. 108 Ibid., 2:col. 2084. Belleforest mentions Xérez as one of his sources in ibid., 2:cols. 2056– 2057. Xérez served as Francisco Pizarro’s secretary and published an account titled Verdadera relación de la conquista del Perú (True account of the conquest of Peru, 1534). This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 99 A and crude as they are alleged to be. I would even say they are purer in their designs than we are, although we have good books, as well as the enlighten- ment of reason. We do not use the teachings of the former, nor the guidance of the latter, whereas they, guided only by the former, put many thoughts into a few words, as you can see. You can also consider that since the flourishes of language are unfamiliar to them, they never utter a word that does not carry weight.109 Although this thinking echoed Belleforest’s considerations on barbarism in his Enriquillo story, there is a major and significant difference between his Cosmo- graphie and his histoire tragique. In the former, Indians are invariably part of a collective. Even though Belleforest promises to dwell on differences between various tribes, successive vignettes represent groups of Indians at war, worship- ping idols that are compared to devilish images, and practicing cannibalistic rit- uals. On the other hand, the histoire tragique, with its focus on individual exempla and destinies, affords considerations of a different kind: it is the ideal setting for a complex portrait of a Taino Indian. Not only does Belleforest attempt to un- derstand the goals and psychology of the cacique who led the 1519–33 upheaval against the Spanish, he also depicts the drama and paradoxes of the life of a Chris- tianized Indian. In many ways, Enriquillo brings to mind the figure of the “trav- eler” described by James Clifford:110 a knowledgeable informant who masters two cultures and who is “not as savage as one would have thought,”111 a “rather elo- quent” translator, Belleforest indicates, “who spoke the Castilian language quite well, and could use Latin rather pertinently.”112 In spite of the essential role played by Enriquillo in Belleforest’s narrative, his exemplary courage and rhetorical skills are matched by those of an equally im- portant protagonist. Captain Francisco de Barrionuevo, Charles V’s envoy to His- paniola, negotiated the peace treaty that put an end to a rebellion that had gone on for fourteen years. In Belleforest’s novella, his diplomatic skills make him the 109 Ibid., 2:cols. 2094–2095: “Ceste harangue estonna (et non sans cause) Colomb, qui ne pensoit par trouver tant de Philosophie en la teste de ce barbare et laquelle je vous ay mise icy, afin qu’on voye que ce peuple n’est ny bestial, ny tant grossier qu’on le chante, ains j’oseray dire plus pur en ses desseins que nous, qui avons les bons livres, avec la lumiere de la raison, sans que pour cela nous usons, ny des enseignemens des uns, ny de la conduite de l’autre, là où ceux cy guidez de l’un seul, vous voyez quelles raisons ils ont en peu de parolles: comme aussi vous jugez que le fard du langage estant d’eux esloigné, ils ne disent parolle qui ne porte, et laquelle ne soit de quelque grand effect.” The anecdote is borrowed from Peter Martyr’s De Orbe Novo, decade 1, book 3: see Martyr, 1:102–03. 110 Clifford, 19. 111 Belleforest, 2013, 551: “Mais luy qui n’estoit pas si sauvage qu’on eust cuidé.” 112 Ibid., 550. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 100 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY very personification of men the author calls “the wise advisors and shrewd of- ficers of a good prince.”113 Belleforest did not retain all the details that Oviedo accumulated in his Historia in order to depict Barrionuevo as a heroic figure of the conquest of the Americas. Yet in his histoire tragique, the Spanish captain’s exemplary behavior clearly balances that of Enriquillo. Barrionuevo is the incar- nation of the European homme civil whose main concerns are justice and the common good. This ideal complements Enriquillo’s exemplum, for in spite of all his virtues and bravery, the Taino chieftain, Belleforest writes, is “marked by the vice of rebellion,” and shares many of the flaws common to those he calls “insular people from faraway lands.”114 In his histoire tragique, the praise of the noble savage does not call into question the legitimacy of the conquest of the Americas, yet Belleforest views this subjugation in Manichean terms, opposing the misdeeds of the morally corrupt judge and evil colonizer Pedro de Vadillo to the diplomacy and courteousness of the brave and just conquistador Barrionuevo. Whereas the first refuses to treat Enriquillo according to the “equity of the law and royal edicts,”115 the latter presents the cacique with letters patent signed by Charles V, offering forgiveness to the Taino rebels and justice to their wronged chief. Barrionuevo’s speech echoes the terms of the Requerimiento (the Spanish Requirement of 1513), defining the Tainos as subjects and vassals of the Spanish emperor, with all the rights and obligations this status entails. As do many of Belleforest’s histoires tragiques, the story of Enriquillo revolves around a judicial matter. Laws have been broken (wrongfully, in the case of Vadillo; for good rea- sons, in the case of the cacique). How then can a just sentence be passed on those who have not abided by them? Such is the question that Belleforest seeks to an- swer, emphasizing the “gentleness” of Charles V’s justice.116 Although Belleforest’s narrative ends quite well, with the signing of a treaty that grants Enriquillo and his men the right to trade and to live free in the moun- tains of Bahoruco,117 it depicts the European discovery of the Americas as a se- ries of cruel and bloody events. Like the other two narratives previously reviewed in this article, it is the prose equivalent of the tragedies that were being written and staged in late sixteenth-century France. Belleforest, who was seen by some of his contemporaries as a “modern Sophocles,”118 made it very clear that the sto- 113 Ibid., 578: “les sages conseillers et les fins officiers d’un bon prince.” 114 Ibid., 579. 115 Ibid., 550. 116 Ibid., 562: “And so the justice of Emperor Charles proved to be most equitable in this matter, since he chose to offer peace to this new subject of his, whose land he occupied by a droit de bienséance, rather than to wage war and to wrong him twice, punishing him after he had been offended, and persecuting him after seizing his riches.” 117 On this treaty, see Traboulay, 44–45. 118 Belleforest, 2013, 733. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 101 A ries he wrote after he stopped translating tales borrowed from Bandello were “no longer about love, or comical, but harsh, and tragic.”119 This is especially true of his Enriquillo narrative, which opens with verses borrowed from Sophocles’s tragedy Polyxena, in which Agamemnon underscores the difficulty of a ruler’s task: “For the helmsman of an army could not give in to all to render favors to all. Indeed, not even Zeus, whose royal power is mightier than mine, is approved by mortals either when he sends rain or when he would lose his case.”120 Belle- forest glosses the Greek playwright’s verses to explain that a ruler’s most im- portant duty is to impart justice with equity. He then designs his Enriquillo story as a political tragedy based on a simple premise: what happens when a powerful man, such as Judge Pedro de Vadillo, does not abide by his duty to obey the laws and customs approved by his sovereign? The result is a series of cat- astrophic events that entail thirteen years of “misfortune and ruin”121 for the in- habitants of the Bahoruco region and their Spanish conquerors, who every day witness looting and devastation, living under the constant threat of “horrible ven- geance.”122 In this narrative, as elsewhere in the fourth and fifth volumes of his histoires tragiques, Belleforest is indirectly commenting on the French Wars of Re- ligion, and more specifically on the men he accuses of extending the conflicts in order to profit from them.123 Here as in the Pizarro narrative discussed earlier, the histoire tragique works as a form of remonstrance akin to Belleforest’s polemical political pamphlets, where he warns and severely judges all those who would be tempted to subvert the established laws and tradition of their country.124 Belleforest’s Enriquillo story is also interspersed with substantial harangues delivered by its main protagonists. These intricate speeches are evocative of the long monologues typical of the tragedies of late sixteenth- and early seventeenth- century France. Just as the main character in the 1613 Tragédie française d’un More cruel envers son seigneur nommé Riviery, gentilhomme espagnol, sa Damoiselle et ses Enfants (The French tragedy of a cruel Moor, directed against his lord named Riviery, his wife and children) delivers a monologue containing a detailed outline of the vengeance he is about to take on the master who has humiliated him for many years,125 Enriquillo warns Judge Vadillo of his upcoming reprisal: “If justice 119 Ibid., 725: “Ces Histoires, donc, ne sont plus amoureuses ny Comiques, ains severes et Tragiques.” 120 Ibid., 535. Translation is from Sophocles, 266–67. 121 Belleforest, 2013, 570. 122 Ibid., 566. 123 Ibid., 578. 124 See, for example, Belleforest, 1568b. 125 Tragédie française d’un More cruel, act 3 (unpaginated). This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 102 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY fails me, the sword will avenge my dishonor, and arms will settle the dispute that judges leave unpunished, as if it were some illustrious act, and as if a sin that is forbidden by law deserved any praise.”126 Belleforest’s Enriquillo story is, in many ways, a revenge tragedy. Not only does it chronicle the vengeance of the “son of a king,”127 it also echoes the structure of plays that relied on the concept of delayed divine vengeance. This idea was alluded to by Aristotle, who recounted the story of the statue of Mitys at Argos, which fell over on his murderer while he was a spectator at a festival, causing his death. The author of the Poetics noted that the tragic effect of pity and fear was best produced by this kind of incident “because even among chance events we find most awesome those which seem to have happened by design.”128 Belleforest gives readers a variation on this theme: although he has been re- called to Spain by Charles V, Pedro de Vadillo knows that powerful friends in court will spare him from any kind of punishment for his mistreatment of En- riquillo, but the evil judge perishes during a terrible storm at the mouth of the Guadalquivir River. Expanding on Oviedo’s account of Vadillo’s death, Belle- forest writes that the tempest pursued the ship for several days, until the Spanish judge was “submerged with all his ill-acquired fortune that reeked of the blood of the poor people he had oppressed.”129 Belleforest thus reminds his readers that divinity might not immediately exert revenge against evil men in order to com- fort the souls of their victims. Instead, it often places these men at the pinnacle of success and fortune only to take it all away.130 Like the playwrights of his time, Belleforest provides a historical example of divine justice, which repairs the fail- ures of human justice. His histoire tragique is akin to tragedies where the destruc- tion of persecutors, as J. S. Street explains, “no less than that of more amiable figures, was a reminder of the mutability of fortune to which all men are subject, and of the divine plan governing this apparent disorder.”131 The cacique’s story also underscores the excesses of the “furious Spaniards,”132 who are portrayed as usurpers and tyrants whose cruelty knows no bounds.133 126 Belleforest, 2013, 548–49: “Ce sera le fer qui vengera mon deshonneur, là où la justice me defaudra, et les armes qui vuideront le different que les juges laissent sans punition, comme si c’estoit quelque acte illustre, et comme si le peché defendu par la loy meritoit quelque lou�a�nge.” 127 Ibid., 553. 128 Aristotle, 63 (1452a). This idea is also the subject of Plutarch’s treatise The Delays of Divine Justice in Punishing the Wicked (ca. 100 CE), a text that Belleforest quotes several times in his Cinquiesme Tome des Histoires Tragiques. 129 Belleforest, 2013, 563. 130 Ibid., 257. 131 Street, 218. 132 Belleforest, 2013, 545. 133 Ibid., 552. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 103 A Belleforest shares Bartholomé de Las Casas’s point of view on those he calls “conquering wolves,” as well as his early view on African slaves.134 The histoire tragique of Enriquillo reveals a markedly anti-Spanish slant that also appears in Benzoni’s violent diatribes against the conquistadores in his Historia del Mondo Nuovo (1565), a text Belleforest often quotes in the second volume of his Cos- mographie.135 This anti-Spanish bias is even more evident in the version of the Enriquillo story that was published in the 1580 edition of the Discours memorables de plusieurs histoires tragiques, in which he repeatedly criticizes the Spaniards for their cruelty and tyrannical rule.136 With its depiction of the horrors of the Span- ish conquest of the Americas, Enriquillo’s speech prefigures the 1596 Harangue d’un Cacique Indien, envoyée aux François pour se garder de la Tyrannie de l’Espaignol (A speech by an Indian cacique, sent to the French to warn them to guard them- selves against the Spaniards’ tyranny), whose anonymous author undoubtedly read Belleforest. In this pamphlet, written from the point of view of the Politiques in the context of Henri IV’s rise to power, an Indian chief cautions Frenchmen against the Spaniards’ conquering ambitions.137 The true savages, he warns them, are the conquistadores, whose greed and brutality have caused the death of mil- lions on the American continent.138 The cacique’s eloquence, as well as his por- trayal of the Spaniards, parallels those depicted by Belleforest in his Enriquillo story; in both cases, French and European readers were introduced to an Indian 134 Belleforest approves of the harsh treatment of slaves who had joined the ranks of Enri- quillo’s rebels. Since they were bought by the Spaniards, he writes, “they were obliged to serve their masters as slaves”: Belleforest, 2013, 561. Las Casas at first approved of the use of African slaves in the Indies, although he later came to regret this position. See Clayton, 136–37, 420–28. 135 Benzoni’s Historia had been translated into French in 1579 by Urbain Chauveton, who added his own anti-Spanish comments to the text. 136 Many of the additions to this text indicate that Belleforest was actually drawing from the French version of the Brevissima Relacion, titled Tyrannies et cruautés des Espagnols perpétrées ès Indes occidentales, qu’on dit le Nouveau Monde, brièvement décrites par l’évêque don frère Barthélemy de Las Casas, pour servir d’exemple et advertissement aux XVII provinces du pays-bas (Spanish tyran- nies and cruelties, perpetrated in the West Indies, commonly termed the New World, briefly described in the Castilian language, by the bishop friar Bartholomew de las Casas, to serve as an example and warning to the XVII provinces of the Low Countries. Antwerp: Ravelenghien, 1579). Interestingly, the ultra-Catholic Belleforest is therefore drawing from the Dutch post- Alba propaganda that compared the horrors of the Spanish conquest of the Americas to Spanish behavior in the Low Countries. 137 A modern edition of this Harangue is given in Lestringant, 2005a, 205–09. The Po- litiques were a party of moderate Catholics and Huguenots who sought political stability and were ready to make temporary concessions in order to avoid the total collapse of the state. 138 According to the author of the Harangue, the number of Indians went from five or six mil- lion to six thousand after the arrival of the Spaniards. See Lestringant, 2005a, 207. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 104 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY who, as Frank Lestringant notes, had been transformed into an allegory of “hu- manity unjustly oppressed.”139 CONCLUSION In Belleforest’s collection, as well as in the overall production of histoires tragiques in sixteenth- and seventeenth-century France, tales from the Americas are a dis- tant second to narratives about the Ottoman Empire and Northern Africa. The genre is subject to a phenomenon that Geoffrey Atkinson described long ago, showing that Renaissance printing presses produced twice as many books about the Levant and the Orient than texts concerning the Americas.140 Yet, as he dis- tanced himself from Bandello and aspired to create a new literary form,141 Belle- forest realized that tales from the Americas were ideal material for the histoire tragique genre. They provided contemporary and memorable exempla, and brought readers into an unfamiliar universe in accordance with his desire to cre- ate narratives defined by novelty and variety. Most importantly, they were full of fear, blood, and harrowing experiences that perfectly captured his tragic vision of the world. In spite of his repeated claims to veracity, Belleforest’s tales essentially reflect the rules and spirit of tragedy as they were defined in late sixteenth-century France. In the fourth and fifth volumes of the histoires tragiques series, the Amer- ican continent is where Pizarro and Almagro, like a modern Eteocles and Poly- nices, fight for control of Cuzco and the newly discovered territories of Chile. It is where a brother’s cruelty leads to the death of his sister’s husband and child. It is a place where political tragedies comparable to the assassination of François de Guise take place, and where rulers and princes could find lessons that par- alleled those given in Machiavelli’s Discorsi. It is where the iniquity of a judge triggers a cycle of bloody violence and revenge. It is a place ideally suited for sit- uations that Jean de la Taille described in his Art de la tragedie as entailing “tears and extreme misery, and not things that happen every day naturally and because of common reasons.”142 Like contemporary Elizabethan drama, the histoires tragiques adopted Senecan tragedy as a model in their representation of violence and revenge. Moreover, they provided what Christian Biet calls a “historic detour” in order to bring readers to 139 Ibid., 206. 140 Atkinson, 10. 141 On Belleforest’s overall contribution to the histoire tragique as a literary genre, see Sturel, 35–141; Simonin, 1985; Arnould. 142 La Taille, fol. 2v: “larmes et miseres extremes, et non point de choses qui arrivent tous les jours naturellement et par raison commune.” This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 105 A reflect on the Wars of Religion.143 This detour, however, is not in line with the official politics of oubliance that both Biet and Andrea Frisch have described in recent essays.144 Belleforest’s stories were written before the Saint Bartholomew’s Day Massacre, by an author who was in many regards an ultra-Catholic activist. Rather than inciting them to forget rivalries and appease tensions, Belleforest’s narratives invite readers to blame misguided leaders and all those he considers to be enemies of rightful French sovereignty, in Europe as well as in the Americas. Although they share many of the features characteristic of tragic theater in late sixteenth-century France,145 Belleforest’s histoires tragiques were not mere prose tragedies. Their originality lay in the multi-level reading they afforded. Learned “doctes”146 and cultivated readers could find in them texts written by an author who emulated Sophocles, Plutarch, and the great writers they so admired. Those who sought the lessons of history could be reassured by Belle- forest’s moralizing intent, as expressed in the short arguments that introduced each of his narratives. More importantly, the histoires tragiques introduced characters and issues that were profoundly “de nostre temps” (“of our times”) to a wide and diverse reading public,147 as their author repeatedly emphasized. Along with more familiar figures, they depicted men and women who found themselves on a con- tinent that, for Renaissance readers, was as mysterious and terrifying as it was exotic. And beyond the curiosity that tales from the Americas could produce among sixteenth-century French readers, Belleforest’s histoires also dealt with essential questions about the colonization of the American continent. How and why did the New World become the theater of violent conflicts that replicated the wars of the Old? What were the merits of attempting to master such a harsh environment and hostile nature as those described in the tale of the damoiselle? In the case of the Enriquillo narrative, the histoire tragique even contributed, along with texts such as Urbain Chauveton’s translation of Benzonis’s Historia, to the creation of a French version of the “black legend” of Spain, while also bringing to life a figure that would haunt the imagination of Europeans. A few years be- 143 Biet, 2016, 299. 144 The connection between the development of a form of tragedy specific to late sixteenth- century France and the politics of pardon and oubliance promulgated through successive edicts by the French Crown beginning in the 1560s is underscored in Frisch, 104–71; Biet, 2014; Biet 2016, 295–301. 145 On this aspect of Belleforest’s histoires, see Campangne, 2006. 146 Belleforest, 2013, 328. 147 See, for example, the full title of Belleforest’s fifth tome: Le Cinquiesme Tome des Histoires Tragiques contenant un discours memorable de plusieurs Histoires, le succez & evenement desquelles est pour la plus part recueilly des choses advenuës de nostre temps (The fifth tome of the tragic histories, containing a memorable discourse on several histories . . . of our times). This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 106 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY fore Montaigne’s relativist depiction of the Brazilian cannibales, Belleforest staged a Taino Indian whose plight and discourse invited readers to reflect on their own savagery and barbarianism, as well as on the relationship between races and civi- lizations. The author of the histoires tragiques, however, does not necessarily share the enlightened tolerance of the author of the Essais. In many ways, his Enriquillo story posits a form of virtuous colonization, conceived in response to the ex- cesses of the Spanish in the Americas, one he also describes in the pages of his Histoire universelle.148 Whereas his cosmographic work never achieved either commercial success or critical acclaim,149 Belleforest’s histoires tragiques did bring him great literary fame. Although he could be accused of boasting in his repeated claims to a near universal readership,150 the multiple reissues that printers in Paris, Lyon, Rouen, and Torino gave his histoires show that they became what one might be tempted to call true best sellers in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries.151 The lengthy encyclopedic chapters on the Americas that appeared in the Histoire uni- verselle and the Cosmographie were read by few, yet many a French Renaissance reader was most certainly acquainted with the three American histoires tragiques of the conquistador, the damoiselle, and the cacique. Indeed, these narratives ap- peared in a series of books that Jacques Yver (ca. 1548–72) described as being so successful that young men and women often used them to make what would to- day be called a fashion statement: “Sometimes I consider for myself, reader, what great and illustrious praise Bandello’s histoires tragiques have received throughout France, so much that it is shameful today, amongst well bred young women and learned courtiers not to know them; so much that even those unable to embellish their speech with them, embellish at least their hands with them for show.”152 The publication of the Thresor des histoires tragiques (Treasury of tragic histo- ries, 1581), a compilation of speeches and epistles taken from various volumes in 148 Belleforest describes his fantasy of a French form of colonization that is not motivated by greed, but rather by a desire to help “the poor people in these lands” in the Histoire universelle: see Belleforest, 1570c, fol. 252v. 149 See Bernstein, 31; Simonin, 1992, 21, 210–11. 150 See, for example, how he claims that his fame extends throughout Europe and foreign lands in his epistle to Jean Louis de Nogaret at the beginning of the Septiesme tome des histoires tragiques: Belleforest, 1583, fol. a iiiijr. 151 On the reception of the histoires tragiques in France, see Simonin, 1992, 228–31; Pietrzak, 99–106. 152 Yver, 520: “Considérant quelquefois à part moi, bénin lecteur, combien grandes et illustres louanges les histoires tragiques de Bandel ont acquises parmi notre France, jusques à gagner tant de grâce, qu’aujourd’hui c’est une honte, entre les filles bien nourries et entre les mieux apprins courtisans, de les ignorer; même ceux qui n’en peuvent orner leur langue, en ornent à tout le moins leurs mains par contenance.” This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 107 A the series, points to another aspect of the success of the histoires tragiques collec- tion, and to the fate of Belleforest’s American tales. The anonymous author of the Thresor explains that the histoires tragiques were widely read and extremely well received, particularly because of the speeches, rhetorical pieces, and dialogues that could be found in them, which could be used by all men and women who desired to speak the French language properly and elegantly.153 The histoires tragiques were thus presented as a manual of eloquence, and as one of the finest products French culture could offer.154 In this context, selected speeches by the conquista- dor, the damoiselle, and the cacique became morceaux d’anthologie.155 APPENDIX Cacique Henry to the Indians1 It seems that these Christians believe that we, who have welcomed them in our country courteously, are beasts that are destined to carry all the burdens they please to throw on our shoulders, and that our possessions, wives, and children have no other use than to satisfy their blind greed and the unbridled desires of their evil lasciviousness. They believe (my friends) that our poor people, who they rule through usurpation, have nothing in common with man, have no more feel- ing than a stone or insensitive rock, and remain unaffected by their vainglorious brutality and impudence. But I hope, if you are ready to believe me and follow my advice, to make them change their minds, and make them understand that at least we have the same apprehensions that guide the instinct of beasts, and that we have engraved in our minds the image of revenge against those who offend us, and that we will seek to free so many of our relatives and friends, who are being held captive by these wolves, who usurp our country and riches. You will perhaps remember how, when they first came into this country, they inhumanely treated Cacique Gao Camagari, who was the first to welcome them in this land, and how they dreadfully killed the kings who ruled this island, using our own strength and arming us against each other, in order to bolster their weak power. You know that before these men who fled their own land came to ours, 153 Le Thresor des histoires tragiques, “au lecteur” (“to the reader”). 154 Belleforest himself linked the publication of his histoires tragiques to the alleged superior- ity of the French language as early as 1559, when he wrote in his dedication of the Continu- ation des Histoires tragiques to Charles Maximilien, Duke of Orleans (1550–74), the future King Charles IX: “I will not hesitate to say frankly, that the glory of our language has a certain something better than all those that are called vernacular”: Belleforest, 1570a, fol. 152v. 155 “Anthology pieces.” 1 Translated from Belleforest, 2013, 551–55. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM ll use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). 108 VOLUME LXXI, NO. 1RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY we had never known contagious disease, nor mortality, but the heavens pursuing their wickedness turned against us as well as against them, and our tribes peo- ple who had no knowledge of medicine, not being subject to indisposition, have suffered their wrath, so that you can now see a country almost all deserted and miserably barren. Not only have they infected us with this disease, stolen our possessions, brought down our cemis,2 forced us to baptize our children, robbed the caciques of their kingdoms and dominions, put to death those who wanted to keep their freedom, but you can feel when you obey them how well they treat those who have humiliated themselves and accepted them as lords. You are well aware that if they spared you, it was in order to torment you more, using you for tasks that are more unpleasant, difficult, and daunting than death itself. Can you see their slaves the Moors who are ready to rebel, because they can no longer bear the or- ders or the tyranny of these cruel lords? Are you weaker than the blacks? Are you destined to be the Spaniards’ slaves? Are you less brave than these Africans? Will you suffer slaves to be bolder than you, who stood up to the Caribs, and terrified the armies of the very same men who now want to enslave you? Will it be said that you now let your courage and resolve be defeated, without showing the slightest bit of bravery? Will it be remembered that we are men without discern- ment, that we do not know what valor is, or that we do not know that it is better to die than to live long in such disgrace? You know what outrage I have en- dured, and how basely I have been treated. If it is right to unjustly imprison the son of a king, such as me, if it is permitted to take his wife and to banish him from cities with infamy and without respect for his rank and nobility, I will gladly let you deny me any help and let myself be defeated by those who (once I am dead) will overcome you. These men will not leave a single one of us alive in this land, as they are already beginning to show by taking our children to foreign lands, and perhaps selling them in the faraway countries of their Christian neigh- bors. But if you have any friendship for one of your princes, if the memory of my predecessors is still freshly engraved in your minds, if you pity my misery and feel sorry for my misfortune, who can prevent you from taking up arms, to assail those tyrannical Christians, and to finally drive them out of this country, just like they stole it from our ancestors? It you want to set yourselves free, and rid yourselves and your children of the yoke of servitude, if you want to grow richer and live at your ease, let us rise (my friends), let us rise against these ty- rants, and let us show them what we can do. Let us show them that if we let them take hold in our lands, it was not because we did not have the means to resist them, but because we hoped for some relief, if they became our neighbors 2 According to Taino tradition, a cemi is a god, spirit, or ancestor. It is also the name given to a sculptural object housing this spirit. This content downloaded from 069.250.023.131 on March 23, 2018 09:09:13 AM All use subject to University of Chicago Press Terms and Conditions (http://www.journals.uchicago.edu/t-and-c). BELLEFOREST’S TRAGIC HISTORIES 109 A and allies. If we are to be overwhelmed, it is better, and more desirable, to die fighting like brave and courageous men, than to live as slaves, and to let the in- famous name of cowardice and pusillanimity deny us the reputation of righteous men who would not stand to be disrespected. See how fortune is on our side, keeping them blind in their ease, and how they are not on their guard, because they do not suspect us. Let us attack them unexpectedly without sparing any- thing, so that in the future they will learn not to offend anyone, and so that their judges, making themselves more equitable, will not condemn those who have been wronged, instead of severely punishing those who have committed a crime. 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work_4zx2nvwbbbfs7byvoijjxel3am	----	Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 39:2, Spring 2009 DOI 10.1215/10829636-2008-025 © 2009 by Duke University Press a Manliness and the Visual Semiotics of Bodily Fluids in Early Modern Culture Patricia Simons University of Michigan Ann Arbor, Michigan Pissing putti, virtually always male, merrily populate the imagery of early modern visual culture, from illuminated manuscripts to tableware, frescoed walls to working fountains. Their very ubiquity and charm has perhaps inured us to the valence of masculine bravado conveyed by the imagery. In particular, the exuberant jet nearly always issues from a babe shown standing erect, and the discharge of fluid is accentuated by forcefulness and exhibi- tionism. Furthermore, in early modern European culture, the fluids emitted by the blatant male organ were often considered interchangeable, and visual as well as verbal jokes were made about urine, semen, water, and wine. In a medical system determined by attention to the physiology and variability of the humors alongside the fixed taxonomy of forms, the sexual economy was as much characterized by liquidity as it was obsessed with penile pene- tration. Pissing and standing might appear meaningless and uninteresting, but such overlooked acts, I argue, indicate that the somatics and semiotics of early modern masculinity consisted of more than sexual intromission or inhibiting anxiety, and that visual metaphors presented manliness in ways that were often humorous, usually public, and always assertive. Erection Homo erectus is the name eventually given to a species of human ances- tor after the discovery of “Java man” by a Dutch medical officer in 1891. His term was Pithecanthropus erectus, and the appellation Homo erectus was explored only in relation to an enlarged group of specimens by the natural biologist Ernst Mayr in 1944.1 While the modern term referred to a newly vertical phase before the evolution of Homo sapiens, medical literature had long considered the upright stance of humankind to be one of its distinct characteristics. Writing in the mid- to late 1490s, the physician Alessandro 332 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 Benedetti, for instance, restated an established etymological and anatomical trope. The second chapter of his book on anatomy began with the assertion that the human body “was created for the sake of the soul and stands erect among other animals, as established by divine nature and reason so that it might look upward more comfortably.”2 When discussing the head in book 4 of the Historia corporis humani, Benedetti observed that the brain was situated “nearest to the sky” because “the intellect quite clearly holds the highest position as does the human rea- son, which God the Author and Founder of the world made as close as pos- sible to Himself through His Son.”3 The erect posture was related to mas- culinity, in that it was made by a paternal God, followed the form of that father and his incarnated Son, and was a matter of intellect. Since women were conventionally regarded as irrational, the closeness of the seat of reason to the heavens was due to men’s divine preeminence, a priority said to be demonstrated by Adam’s creation before Eve. In the words of the English anatomist Helkiah Crooke, “the Excellency of Man” was distinguished by the fact that he “was made upright and looking toward heaven.”4 The very act of standing, then, could convey gendered meaning, and the upright pos- ture of young pissing putti is all the more redolent because it represents boys exercising their newfound masculine aggression. On occasion, adult men too are represented in the act of urinating while standing erect, thereby sig- nifying far more than incidental genre. Urination and essential masculinity Masculinity was long characterized by a set of penile acts centered on the capacity to cast forth bodily fluids while standing. “Insistence on an upright position” during sex signified the maintenance of masculinity in ancient Greek culture, whether the penetrated partner was male or female, but in the course of the seventh and eight centuries the Christian posture for men during acceptable sex became prone.5 The prone position was deemed less bestial, sodomitical, or sinfully pleasurable, and more conducive to repro- duction. However, it did not completely replace the upright posture in all prescriptions and representations of quintessentially masculine action, whether in medical literature or visual artifacts. By the early modern period, pleasure was displaced onto images that might appear to be of nothing more than acts of solitary urination, yet these images conveyed multivalent, erotic meanings. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 333 To be literally erect while pissing has long been a fundamental definition of somatic gender in the European tradition. When describing the contrariness of Egyptian culture, due to its climate and different kind of river, the Greek historian Herodotus in the fifth century b.c.e. not only noted that “the women buy and sell, the men abide at home and weave,” but also that “women make water standing, men sitting.”6 Gender roles and biological sex functions were inverted in a land strange to the ancient Greek. However, this view was not universal. The Greek poet Hesiod had earlier noted certain restrictions about urinating openly, and advised that the most devout or scrupulous man “sits down or goes to the wall of an enclosed court.”7 Pious cleanliness remained the standard for many men of the eastern Mediterranean, as was observed in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries by European travelers to Turkey, who saw men pissing while sitting down.8 By that time, Herodotus’s opinion was common in western Europe, where women were the ones who squatted when urinating. The disruptive nature of a world out of joint was evident in the satire of the Roman author Juvenal. One of the many proofs of female inferiority offered in his diatribe against women was that they could not piss standing up. A woman’s efforts in the martial arts might seem admirable, but one had to “laugh, when she lays her weapons aside and squats on the potty.”9 The comic picture of her crouched over a chamber pot dissipated all her former athletic glory. Boccaccio’s misogynist voice in the Corbaccio often followed Juvenal’s lead, and in this case women virtually could not urinate at all: Among their other vanities, when they wish to exalt themselves far above men, they say that all good things are of the feminine gender. . . . If it weren’t indecent, to this you would want to reply, “It’s quite true they’re all feminine, but they don’t piss!”10 Masculinity truly obviated and trumped any claim of inferiority by the ridiculing, obscene evidence that women “don’t piss,” that is, they cannot do it properly, in the manly way, because they do not stand up. Any focus today on penile erection as the ultimate sign of masculinity, influenced by popularized psychoanalysis, neglects the cultural tradition of the entire male body phallicized by an erect stance. Without resorting to caricature, Rembrandt encapsulated the per- ceived essential difference between the two sexes in small etchings he signed and dated in 1631 (see figs. 1– 2).11 An aging wayfarer, laden with bags at his back and hip, has briefly halted his journey in order to urinate, the casual 334 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 placement of one hand behind his back indicating the ease with which he performs the unself-conscious act of masculinity. The pendant shows a shoeless peasant squatting in order to urinate and defecate, her heavy skirt bunched up and cushioning her as she leans against a tree to support some of her weight during the crouch. Her bearing is more convoluted and arranged, his more incidental. The tree grounds the woman in a particular, more secluded locale whereas the man stands on generic grass in an undifferenti- ated, open space. The woman looks about her with a wary gaze, indicating that her act is a more private act of shame than the man’s casual, public one. In each case, the viewer is offered explicit views of the genitals of lower class people engaged in pissing out of doors. In Pietro Aretino’s terms, everyone pisses just the same as peasants do, or putting it another way, one’s mode of pissing was a taxonomic category: “He who pisses like the others is like the others.”12 In Rembrandt’s etchings also, the performance of urination in a certain way signified membership of a somatic group. The same is true in Jacopo Zucchi’s Age of Gold (ca. 1575) painted for the Villa Medici in Rome, in which the numerous male-female couples include two infants pissing into a stream, the girl awkwardly plac- ing one leg in the water while lifting the other knee in order to enable an uninterrupted, straight flow of urine.13 The nearby boy instead stands and easily projects his urine further into the water, forming a parabolic arc of piss Figure 1. Rembrandt, A Man Urinating (1631). Etching. British Museum, London. Courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 335 that bends over and above the seated girl. It is no accident that a dog urinates in the foreground of various versions of Titian’s Adoration of the Magi (ca. 1557– 60, 1566), for it thereby signals the crucially masculine aspect of the Christian Savior.14 The anxiety of the Magus insistently peering at the new- born’s genitals is not readily allayed for viewers, because the child is turned away. Instead, the dog cocks its hind leg rather than squats, informing view- ers that the truly earthly incarnation has taken male form.15 Because the upper classes relieved themselves outside the realm of visual representation, instead either charmingly idyllic babes or marginal people and dogs in generic rural spaces perform quintessential acts of their sex, captured in unremitting detail. Medical reasons in part lie behind the preference for infantile pissing. Unlike obstacles created by the stones and enlarged prostates that beset numerous aging men, including Michelangelo, Montaigne, and Pepys, the boy child’s evacuation is effortless, pain free, overt, and exuberantly healthy.16 Rembrandt’s man not only urinates while standing but his emission notably hits the ground with more force. The woman’s crouch is accentuated by the light-catching area of her skirt on the right, which extends the horizontal impulse also established by the continual line engraved above the signature. The very shape of the two plates, which are of much the same height but differ in width, conveys the fundamen- tal notion that masculinity is about vertical form, femininity about lower, Figure 2. Rembrandt, A Woman Urinating (1631). Etching. British Museum, London. Courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum. 336 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 squat, inwardly turned morphology. Each print exists in several copies, sug- gesting that many artists and collectors found the contrast quite striking and amusing. Medical literature notes, with great interest, exceptions to mascu- line urination. In many parts of the world today, surgery is often performed on male infants with hypospadia, a non-life-threatening condition in which the urethra opens at a place other than the tip of the glans, usually on the undersurface of the penis. Although the surgery can give rise to problems in later life, it is undertaken “in part because it is considered [by the medical establishment] very important that a boy be able to urinate standing up.”17 Such a condition was noted in Antonio Benivieni’s case histories of patho- logical anatomy published in 1507. The Florentine physician recorded Paolo Bonini’s son, born with the penile glans blocked so that he urinated from “a channel opened a little below.”18 Surgical procedures and prostheses were devised to overcome con- genital variations or damage caused by war, violence, or disease. Musical castrati, eunuchs, and men castrated in order to remove syphilitic, ulcer- ated, or severely damaged organs are instances of genital surgery performed during the early modern period, all undergone by male bodies.19 As a con- sequence of damage to male genitals, medical treatises frequently discussed how to mask emasculation and advised the use of drugs or instruments to enable urination. A brass tube (“un cannellino di ottone”) enabled urination in the case of a man with a damaged penis in one of Lasca’s stories.20 In the 1550s and 1560s, the French royal surgeon Ambroise Paré proudly made use of technological advances in the making and illustration of surgical instru- ments in order to disseminate designs for an expanded range of devices that aided his craft. A pipe was inserted into the urinary passage after a circum- cised glans was restored, for example, or a variety of silver pipes drained the excision after a man’s bladder stone had been removed.21 Paré’s experience on the battlefield as well as his profession’s struggle with the ravages of syphilis encouraged him to devote a tract to prostheses, published in the first edition of his complete works in 1575. The devices included a straight, substitute penis, illustrated from two angles (see fig. 3).22 The medical concern was about urination, not penetration or reproduction. In the words of the seventeenth-century English translation, those that have their yards cut off close to their bellies, are greatly troubled in making of urine, so that they are constrained to sit downe like women [s’accroupir comme les femmes], for their ease. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 337 I have devised this pipe or conduit, having an hole through it as big as ones finger, which may be made of wood. The illustration of what the translation calls “an artificiall Yard” is then explained, ending with the implication that now the patient could piss in a properly manly way, emitting far from his standing body (“and carry it from the patient, as he standeth upright”). The translator focuses on the male pose; Paré’s French repeats the earlier comparison with women, noting that the man could now urinate without having to squat (“pourra uriner debout sans s’accroupir”). Cross-dressing women, who had to mimic erect urination in order to pass successfully as male, sometimes used medical instruments or similar devices to do so. In the early eighteenth century, the Irish female soldier Chris- tian Davies received from a cross-dressed captain a “Urinary Instrument” Figure 3. Penile prosthesis. Ambroise Paré, Les oevvres de m. Ambroise Paré (Paris, 1575), 721. Courtesy of the Alfred Taubman Medical Library, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor. 338 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 described as “a Silver Tube painted over, and fastened about her with leather Straps,” similar to dildoes, which were also related to medical devices.23 A Dutchwoman serving as a sailor was celebrated in a popular song because “she pissed through a horn pipe / Just as a young man might.”24 Manly piss- ing involved the upright stance, and the ability to project the urine some dis- tance. In Paré’s terms, it was important that a man using a penile prosthesis was able to emit far from his body (“laquelle passera au travers”).25 The inability to project urine signaled that things were amiss. Not long after marrying in September 1717, a German wife noticed something different about her husband: “Other men can piss quite a ways, but you always piss on your shoes.”26 Even young wives knew the pattern of norma- tive urination. Apparently, the husband’s mode of sexual intercourse aroused no doubts; it was the pissing technique that was troubling. A year later, the wife, Catharina Mühlhahn, discovered that her partner was a woman, equipped with a black “leather sausage . . . kept between his [sic] legs,” or what subsequent court records describe as “a penis of stuffed leather with two stuffed testicles made from pig’s bladder attached to it and . . . [tied] to her pubes with a leather strap.” The female husband, Catharina Lincken, had proven adept at the sewing and fashioning of various tools, at first using a thin instrument and later changing to a thicker one when the wife was more used to intercourse. Furthermore, the German court had in evidence a “leather-covered horn through which she urinated and [which she had] kept fastened against her nude body.” When drunk and challenged by the mother- in-law, Lincken had urinated on the woman and a companion in order to demonstrate masculinity. As a codefendant in an ensuing sodomy trial, the wife continued to insist that she was fooled by the husband, who “had been able to make this thing stiff or limp.” Another German woman had earlier successfully disguised her gender and sex for several years, according to the testimony of female partners, performing such masculine acts as aggressive seduction, sexual intercourse while standing upright, erection, urination, ejaculation, and, possibly, penetration. Katherina Hetzeldorfer told the court investigators of Speyer in 1477 that she made “an instrument with a red piece of leather, at the front filled with cotton, and a wooden stick stuck into it, and made a hole through the wooden stick, put a string through, and tied it round.”27 Presumably, manipulation of the string brought about the semblance of erection, of the sort that Lincken also achieved. One of Hetzeldorfer’s sex partners, the mar- ried woman Else Muter, offered the court many reasons for her apparent deception, describing numerous masculine qualities she witnessed, begin- Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 339 ning with assertive persistence and “manly will” exercised through sex on top. The genital member was handled and found to be “a huge thing, as big as half an arm. She thought it was like a horn and pointed in front and wide behind.” Probably in response to a specific question, Else then reported that Hetzeldorfer “urinates through this thing.” Perhaps answering another query, she insisted that the “semen is so much that it is beyond measure, that one could grab it with a full hand.” The three physical attributes that, Else hoped, would explain her belief in masculine presence were sheer size and then two emissions, one of urine, the other of semen. Else may well have been convinced she was having sex with a man. For contraceptive purposes, sex often involved external friction of various kinds rather than penetration, or was interrupted before ejaculation. And, for a variety of reasons ranging from moral to practical, sex was frequently conducted between people who remained more or less fully clothed.28 Like many others, Else’s sexual knowledge and hence her assessment of a part- ner was primarily a matter of tactile experience rather than visual inspec- tion. Doubtless exaggerating in order to convince the court that she thought her sex partner was male and thence she did not deserve exile or execution, Else felt impressive thickness and compared the output of semen to a large handful. Her seemingly direct visual evidence of genital condition consisted solely of seeing Hetzeldorfer urinate. Cross-dressed women such as Davies, Hetzeldorfer, and Lincken tried to urinate in a masculine manner. To manufacture pissing tubes (and dildoes), women relied on their own ingenuity but sometimes deployed medical technology. Like devices discussed by Paré, the “Urinary Instru- ment” used by Davies was “a Silver Tube” that was “painted over”; and Lincken pissed through a “leather-covered horn.” Each instrument was dis- guised to look more fleshlike, as were prostheses. Surgical devices like pipes or quills used on female or male patients and illustrated in a range of medi- cal literature, some in the vernacular, provided women with ideas and arti- facts. Women, even if illiterate, could inspect instruments on display in the shops of barber-surgeons and cutlers, or comprehend illustrations in surgical manuals, most in the vernacular, such as those issued by Paré, Crooke, and Johann Schultes.29 By various means, some women imitated the somatic act of manly urination, a deed that, according to satirists and surgeons, anato- mists and artists, endowed gendered and social status. To the extent that women were thought to produce a kind of seed or “semen” also, as some medical opinion held, then the distinctive mark of male urination in an upright stance was all the more an important, exclusive sign of masculinity. 340 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 Urine, semen, water, wine, and wit Understanding the importance of the masculinized mode of urination casts a different light on certain representations of ejaculation, for the two emis- sions could overlap in imagery, wordplay, and poetry. Almost as significant as the release of semen was the emission of any kind of fluid from the male organ, as long as it was represented as assertive, confident, and forceful. Sex- ual acts and pleasures were largely understood in relation to what could be called a semen-otic system of fluids, and urine was a significant fluid cast forth from the penis. Even when, in his earlier anatomical ruminations of the 1480s and 1490s, Leonardo da Vinci imagined the penis with two tubes, he understood that semen from the testes and urine from the bladder trav- eled down the same pathway. The second tube was thought to bring the activating, thicker semen carrying animal spirit or soul from the spinal mar- row, a Hippocratic belief also espoused in the canonical work of Avicenna but discarded in Leonardo’s later anatomical studies.30 In Latin, verbs for urinating, piddling, or pissing like meiere and mingere were “often used of ejaculation.”31 The conflation extended into vari- ous vernaculars, including Italian. Marsilio Ficino, famous fifteenth-century philosopher and son of a physician, reportedly made a misogynist quip that relied on the collapse of the two acts: “one should use women like chamber pots, which are hidden and put away after a man has pissed in them.”32 The Italian verb used was pisciare “to piss,” although it referred to the act of insemination. The simile was overt in an anonymous Roman pasquinade of the sixteenth century (ca. 1525?) that celebrated male sexual enjoyment in terms of an effusion of fluid. Advising a young man to forget the worries of sin and act before he grew any older, the Italian satirist urges don’t be afraid To find out where Sodom and Gomorrah are located. Don’t enter into projects where the sperm should run And then try to hold it back — Because ejaculation is just like pissing. Wherever you’re heading, let it flow and fly!33 The flow of sperm is a metaphor for manly courage (“don’t be afraid”), but it is also likened to the simple, nonsinful bodily function of urination (“è simile al pisciare”). In typical pasquinade fashion, sexual acts are considered ordinary, public events in the most outrageous way possible, here encom- Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 341 passing sodomy. Both ejaculation and pissing are presented as bold, assertive acts that cast fluid far from the male body. The imbrication of urination and ejaculation is central to jokes made in the obscene poetry of named men too. On the surface, Giovan Francesco Bino’s capitolo “In lode del bicchiere al Rè della virtù” is an encomium to the ordinary drinking glass, addressed to the “King of virtue,” mock-ruler of a male social group or “academy” that met in Rome around 1535 – 39 for cele- brations during carnival season.34 Along the way, the verse mocks preten- sions and makes the occasional snide or bawdy allusion, ending with advice about living cheerfully: “Without further pomp, or worldly vanity / quench your thirst with a beautiful glass [Spenga la sete sua con un bel vetro].” As is typical in the playful literature penned for amusement during carnival season while drinking and dining, Bino’s last line has multiple meanings, for “sete” meant not only thirst but also greed, appetite, and silks.35 The capitolo was Bino’s “tribute” delivered to the “king,” Giuseppe Cincio, a Flemish physician serving the Hapsburg Lady Margaret of Austria. Cincio’s medical expertise was not forgotten in the poem. It opened by refer- ring to glass vessels that conveyed a patient’s urine to the physician for diag- nosis. The tall, open-mouthed flask or “vaso urinaceo,” in the words of the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili (1499), was carried to the physician within a bas- ket, but the shape and function were well known.36 In calling the urinal or pissing-pot (“orinale”) to mind, Bino was echoing his friend, the burlesque poet Francesco Berni, whose “Capitolo dell’orinale” was packed with double entendres about human “vessels” of either sex into which a man urinated or ejaculated.37 The drinking glass symbolized the “passive” sexual partner, a vessel receiving fluid, and Bino’s poem carries on in that burlesque tradi- tion. Corpulent, tall, and deep, glasses were akin to bells that resounded like basins, sounds also issuing from lads and “new women” (women who have faked or refreshed their “virginity”?) when they were penetrated.38 Bino’s concluding lines thus have another meaning, advising the “king” to forget decorum and station in favor of gratifying his sexual desires (“slake your appetite with a beautiful ‘glass,’ ” that is, a sexualized receptacle for fluids). A vessel for holding urine was likened to a drinking glass that contained water or wine, and the object also served as a metaphorical repository for semen. The difference between the two fluids emitted from the penis did not signify in the same way as it does in modern culture. It was, however, clear that semen was only produced upon the advent of pubescence. In the realm of visual representation, on the other hand, the biological factor of age 342 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 did not prevent the imaging of prepubescent boys whose pissing was not sig- nificantly different from sexual emission. Following Castiglione’s notion that incongruity (disconvenienzia) was central to humor, what could not often be shown overtly as the act of an adult male could be pictured as an amus- ing allusion when performed by babes.39 Hence, for example, in the elabo- rate frame below one of René Boyvin’s engravings about the Golden Fleece (1563), musical instruments are put aside while a standing putto directs his “urine” into a vase, but his companion’s stream enters the rear of another boy (later altered to obfuscate the anal eroticism).40 Whereas the fluid in one case enters a vessel symbolic of the womb (akin to Ficino’s quip), in the other case the infant playfully performs sodomitical penetration from a distance (taking a cue from the pasquinade). With no censorial disguise, a putto pisses on the reverse side of a desco da parto, a type of tray presented to a woman who was pregnant or had recently given birth (see fig. 4).41 In 1428, the Florentine family examining their recent gift read a now-damaged inscription in Italian, which conceives of the urine as an augury of future benefits: “I make urine of silver and gold” [fo la piscia d’ariento e d’oro]. The babe wears an apotropaic amulet of coral, and the inscription further voices the wish that the child “be born without fatigue or peril” and that the parturient mother be healthy, surviving the dangerous birth and its aftermath. Like the amulet, the painting is meant to be effective in the world of its users, easing pain, averting death, promising wealth, and providing the image of a beautiful boy that would influence the woman’s imagination so that the fetus mirrored the picture of both male sex and beauty.42 While the front side of this image depicts an assuring, orderly scene of a household of women busy with their domestic chores not long after a successful birth, the reverse side pictures a fantasy outdoor scene and focuses on a sole, male figure. Surrounded by trees bearing golden fruit and pissing into a pool that is also golden, the idealized, golden-haired putto rests in a secluded glade. He is blessed with two toys, a pinwheel held in his right hand and, strangely placed under his left knee, a hobby horse. According to John Florio’s dictionary, bischeri meant not “lute pegs” or a “childs hobby horse or riding sticke” but also “a childs pillycocke or pricke.”43 Placed in close prox- imity to the infant’s genitals, the riding stick accentuates his infantile penis and maleness. Pointing down toward the pool of prolific piss and depicted in the same pale color as the rest of his body, the boy’s penis is clearly not that of an adult with an erection. Yet the stream issuing forth appears to be white; it is possible that the symbolic “urine of silver and gold” refers on one level Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 343 to both white semen and golden piss, for he is simultaneously “an augury of fertility and fortune.”44 The boy’s urine may form a pun in that it might have referred to a family of goldsmiths. More probable is the resonance of the phrase and action with “a now-forgotten popular saying,” as Laurence Kanter notes, one that would have combined amusing vulgarity with social values about prosperity and the strong preference for sons.45 And, indeed, at least one such saying did exist. Humorously obscene literature envisaged silver and gold as references to, respectively, sodomitical and reproductive sex.46 Although the domestic object that emphasizes birth on one side does not contrast two types of sexual practice in the inscription about silver and Figure 4. Bartolomeo di Fruosino, A Putto Urinating (1428). Tempera on wood. Private Collection. Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York. 344 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 gold, the potential for an erotic meaning from two opposed types of “urine” is suggestive. The semen that produced the welcome child is golden, of high- est value, because it is reproductive and in that sense its production is visu- ally likened to that of urine. Fertility is also the focus of a pissing boy on the reverse of another desco, dated to the 1450s (see fig. 5).47 One standing boy urinates onto a poppy pod proffered by another boy, who holds a second capsule at the ready. The basic joke seems to be that the fluid is so abundant that it will service two containers; masculine audacity is declared through exhibition- ism and boastful plenitude. The scene is “symbolic of fertility,” but in a par- Figure 5. Apollonio di Giovanni workshop, Two Nude Boys, One Urinating on a Poppy Pod (1450s). Tempera on panel. North Carolina Museum of Art, Raleigh, Gift of the Samuel H. Kress Foundation. Courtesy of the North Carolina Museum of Art. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 345 ticularly overt manner because it shows the process of sexual reproduction by way of the emission of male fluid onto seed-filled receptacles, which echo the function of urinals and so-called drinking vessels.48 Again, ostensibly infantile urination functions as adult ejaculation in relation to fertilization. While Aretino used the word for poppy (“papavero”) when a character put “the stiffness of his poppystalk to the test,” the plant’s seed pods did not seem to serve for linguistic double entendres.49 They do, however, appear on several deschi, adding to the prolific vegetal jokes that were made about male and female genitals, in this case referring to fertile feminized vessels.50 More than a generic or “symbolic” reference to seeds is made, for the shape of the pods is also important, as is their suggestive role in sexual action. Despite the theme of fertility and wordplays, scholars tend to characterize images of emitting boys as exclusive renditions of urination. On an important level of signification, however, the boys do act sexually, despite their young age. Leo Steinberg’s study of the Christ Child’s genitals has shown the semantic potential of a babe’s sex organs, which can signify beyond being merely “realistic” and charming views of naked boys.51 Amuse- ment and delight is a core response invited by pictures of pissing boys, which are entertaining in the margins of courtly frescoes or architectural orna- mentation, restorative for parturient mothers when birth salvers are reversed, diverting for tired scholars pouring over manuscripts when their eyes stray to the decorated margins, and even more refreshing in the context of certain fountains. In some manuscripts, naked imps piss in the company of play- ful musical putti, adding to the sound of drums and horns with the car- nivalesque fingering of another sort of “instrument” that results in a noisy stream.52 In other words, it is, of course, likely that genital acts frequently entail sexual references, and that such references are usually meant as jokes. The joking often centered on transformation and transferal of the discharged fluid. By these means, taboos such as that against oral sex could be contravened in mocking or lighthearted fashion. In an important sense, clusters of boys happily engaging in the pleasurable imbibing and mixing of fluids are evocatively participating in same-sex erotic activity. The open- ing initial of Cicero’s oration Pro Ligario, decorated by a northern Italian miniaturist around 1465 – 70, has one winged putto flying and pissing into a bowl held below by his kneeling companion.53 Marco Zoppo’s drawing of putti reveling around a keg, while conveyed on a raft with a sail that suggests Fortuna, reiterates the motif of one winged boy (probably Bacchus) urinat- ing into a bowl held below him.54 His additional gesture of grasping the assistant’s forelock parodies the iconography of Occasio (Chance or Oppor- 346 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 tunity), here suggesting that the pisser urgently seizes the occasion to do nothing more than relieve himself. Humanists were the primary audience for both the manuscript and the drawing, supplied with irreverent interludes that appealed to their sense of sophistication and wit. Zoppo’s infant transforms wine into another kind of liquid. Instant processing is evident in Guido Reni’s painting of a chubby baby Bacchus guzzling wine from a glass flask and peeing at the same time, the arc of his urine echoing that of wine leaking from the nearby keg.55 In an anony- mous engraving, Fountain of Cupids (see fig. 6), winged putti pissing into the fountain’s basin are joined by six comrades below, one of whom col- lects “urine” in both his mouth and a cup. A proverb probably joked about drinking so much that one pissed wine.56 Gossip from the French court, reported by Brantôme in the mid-1580s, included multivalent mirth when drinking from a wine goblet decorated with salacious scenes: “some drank laughing and others drank ravished, some pissed themselves drinking and others drank and pissed, that is to say, something other than actual pissing” (ejaculating).57 In the top right of Michelangelo’s red chalk drawing Children’s Bacchanal, of 1533 – 34, eight children eagerly gather around a large wine vat.58 One standing boy pisses into the drinking bowl held by a kneeling infant, and the open-mouthed tap of the vat is placed directly above the bowl, suggesting that the boy is either pissing “wine” or “making water” to dilute the wine. Michelangelo, like the illuminators and engravers, was in part joking about euphemisms whereby urine or semen became “water.” In several languages, such as Italian, French, and English, “to make water” was a euphemism for urination.59 A sermon by the Dominican Giordano da Pisa delivered in Florence in 1305 used the euphemism, so it had long been a familiar and nonobscene custom. In ecclesiastical settings, putti were pic- tured almost, but not quite, emitting water, as they were, for example, in two marble washbasins installed in the north and south sacristies of the Floren- tine cathedral in the early 1440s.60 Buggiano’s lavabo for the north sacristy has two winged spiritelli perched atop an inflated wineskin and clutching metal taps projecting from the skin at a point directly below their genitals. Represented as wine (that is, almost urine), the fluid becomes cleansing water, an inversion of the miracle of Cana (John 2:1– 11). The other lavabo reiterates the theme, having two putti stand with large amphorae between their legs, alluding once more to the miraculous transformation of fluids, a process central to the transubstantiation of the eucharistic rite. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 347 Figure 6. North Italian, probably Fer- rarese, Fountain of Cupids (1470s). Engraving. British Museum, London. Courtesy of the Trustees of the British Museum. 348 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 Furthermore, Italian verbs like innaffiàre (or annaffiàre) and sparg- ere, about watering and sprinkling, functioned as double entendres about male fluids in the work of wits like Aretino. For instance, in one example by Aretino, a chaplain uses a large aspergillum or liturgical “sprinkler” (spar- golo) to pour “holy oil on her ladyship’s garden,” an obscene act of “water- ing” (innaffiare).61 A carnival song dedicated to gardeners also envisages the watering of needy “gardens” with holy water.62 To a fourteenth-century poet, spargere meant the sowing of his father’s semen in his mother’s body, a verb used more generically by Aretino for all “seeds that are sewn in our gardens” and that lead to impregnation.63 Aretino claimed that a prudish woman objected to the use of such suggestive words as zampillare, a verb referring to liquid gushing or spurting out.64 In part, these vernacular wordplays and puns derive from established biology, for Aristotle, still a canonical author in university curricula, believed that semen “is a compound of pneuma and water [pneuma being hot air], and that is why it is fluid in its nature; it is made of water.”65 Matteo Bandello’s phraseology in his novelle published in 1554 is thus far from unique. In one story, a teenage bride unsatisfied with her fifty- year-old husband decides upon adultery with any suitable “waterer” (“adac- quatore”) she could find so that he might “water her ill-cultivated garden” [il suo mal coltivato orto innacquasse].66 Aptly, she sets her sights on their actual gardener, and he soon proves how much better he is than the husband at watering the “garden” [adacquava l’orto]. Hence, the water gushing forth from a phallic spout in the central, lower area of Titian’s so-called Sacred and Profane Love is a visual allusion to marital “watering” in a painting commis- sioned around 1514 to celebrate a wedding. The putti with poppy capsules (fig. 5) tend the seed pods by both fertilizing and watering them, in anticipa- tion of male offspring from the primary female viewer. A merry putto from the della Robbia workshop intently focuses on his task as he lifts his shirt in the classical gesture of infantile urination and prepares to “water” a fictive garden in front of the blue and yellow flowers of an iris.67 The streams in such examples indicate more than licit fertility, however, for they also signify pleasurable, even adulterous, release. Spirited jokes about the utility of male bodily fluids have been mis- understood or ignored. The fifteenth-century Florentine print of a winged putto pissing onto a knife-grinder’s whetstone (see fig. 7) has been taken as a genre scene, possibly satirical, but it is making a sexual joke.68 Coitus was likened to grinding corn between millstones, familiar in such languages as classical Latin (molo), Renaissance Italian (macinare), and Elizabethan Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 349 English.69 “Refined flour,” as Masuccio put it, thus resulted from the mutual friction of sexual concourse. A character in another of his novelle is an actual miller, “forced to do his [sexual] work, and he poured water [acqua] once when aloft, but not onto his mill wheel.”70 The exact meaning of the phrase is unclear. Probably, Masuccio is referring to premature ejaculation by the weary, reluctant lover, or the phrase may allude to a situation or proverb Figure 7. Florentine, Putto Urinating on a Knife-Grinder’s Whetstone (late 15th cent.). Niello print. Courtesy of the Départmement des Estampes et de la Photogra- phie, Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris. 350 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 that also applied to flying putti peeing into cups held beneath them. Lovers frequently engaged in sexual “milling” or “grinding” according to Bandello’s mid-sixteenth-century euphemistic language too.71 Aretino also uses “water” to refer to ejaculate, describing a man’s orgasm thus: “grinding the harvest, [he] poured the water [acqua] on the mill wheel.”72 In the Florentine print, grinding is accompanied by a pouring of “water,” similar to the language familiar to the readers and disseminators of stories like those of Aretino and Bandello. With his backside to the viewer and surrounded by boys, the knife grinder may primarily allude to sodomitical conjunction. The instruments becoming keener and more acute under his attentive craft are knives and sharp cutting tools, associated in burlesque poetry, carnival songs, and other erotic puns with the carving of sexualized “meats,” usually savored in a sod- omitical sense.73 Italian verbs for cutting were sexually suggestive (incidere, for example, also meant “to lance”), but the chief verb used in an erotic sense was tagliare, “to cut, to slice, to hacke, to make incision, . . . to carve meate, . . . to clip or pare with any cutting weapon . . . Also to carve or cut up meate.”74 Aretino was apt to use “to cut” when he meant something akin to the English slang “to screw.”75 Since objects of homoerotic interest were likened to roast meat, to carve or cut often meant to sodomize, and knives in general were sexually active, phallic objects. Carnival songs used tagliare when celebrating sodomy with women, carving them with “nostri coltellini,” our little knives.76 Knives and other cutting instruments, depicted with grinding and pissing in the anonymous Florentine print, all point to the image having a sex- ual sense, in addition to any diurnal reportage of urine used in the process of honing. The emitting figure, after all, is winged and bears a windblown sash across his chest, as though he has just arrived from a classicizing frieze. The disjunctive combination of the everyday with the imaginary, of genre with classicism, may well have been a large part of the joke. Perhaps the “garzon con ali,” Cupid as a boy with wings in one of Petrarch’s poems, is here having his arrows sharpened, as the verse suggests.77 But neither quiver nor arrows are visible and the incongruity remains amusing, leading to the ironic elevation of the ordinary street scene and, simultaneously, mockery of the winged putto, a figure usually signifying desire, whether in classicizing or courtly schemes of decoration. As with the carnivalesque, a classical motif is now featured in an incongruous setting. The humor points to an anti-Petrarchan tenor, deny- ing poetic sublimation in favor of earthy gratification. Resituated amidst the ordinary and the vernacular, the pissing infant signals laughter, accompanied Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 351 by the artist’s skill with perspectival rendering of the mobile mechanism and with figures seen from a variety of angles. The artist is an intelligent jokester showing off artistic skill as well as visual and verbal wit. Urine and ejaculate worked as metaphors of each other, an infant made “urine of silver and gold,” and urine also metamorphosed into wine or water. While some jokes relied on wordplay, actual fountains literalized the aqueous transformation. Pissing putti appear on ancient reliefs, while a phallic fountain survives from Pompeii’s house of the Vettii in which water flowed from the tip of an ephebe’s large, erect penis.78 Anyone drinking the cool water gushing through the marble phallus was put in the literal position of ingesting from a compliant ephebe, thereby enjoying the thrill of nearly overcoming the ancient taboo against oral sex. They had to notice what Priapea 48 insisted an audience standing before Priapus’s statue observe: “That that part of me [you see] is dripping / for which I am called Priapus / isn’t due to dew or hoarfrost. / No, it drips spontaneously / when I think of kinky wenches” [“pathicae puellae,” that is, sodomized “girls”].79 Depending on the day’s water pressure, the Vettii fountain indeed provided “dripping” fluid or even more copious bursts flowing into a basin. Usually, the urinelike flow of fountains was issued by a young boy of around three years of age. The most famous instance is the Mannekin-Pis, a landmark of Brussels originally made of stone (perhaps in the late four- teenth or fifteenth century) and replaced by Jerome Duquesnoy’s bronze ver- sion in 1619.80 Fifteenth-century statues of grinning, peeing boys survive in marble, culminating around 1544 in Pierino da Vinci’s infant whose grin is accompanied by a satyr’s wide-mouthed mask poised at his genitals, from which water flowed (see fig. 8).81 Pierino’s joke about metamorphosis (from boy’s urine or satyr’s saliva to water) is accentuated by the grotesque mask that symbolizes deception and self-conscious theatricality. In this statue, as in numerous representations of devils and in various wordplays, the nose was phallic, but here the licentious satyr’s face is manipulated by a mere boy and the actual flow of fluid apparently issued at a relative trickle, “belying the implied potency of his hidden member.” Gleeful innocence is combined in Pierino’s statue with grimac- ing, knowing, carnal excess, an amusing blend often underlying images of pissing boys. Sometimes that amalgam rendered the figure suitable for reli- gious or moral purposes, as was perhaps the case around 1404 – 9 with the unusually early postclassical existence of a urinating infant in high relief on the archivolt of the Porta della Mandorla, the northern entrance of the Florentine cathedral.82 Along with a famous figure of standing Hercules in 352 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 Figure 8. Pierino da Vinci, Putto Pissing through a Grotesque Mask (ca. 1544). Marble. Museo Statale d’Arte Medievale e Moderna, Arezzo. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 353 the door frame below, the vignette amongst decorative foliage is another instance of the prescient revival of ancient motifs and forms on the Porta, whereas most images of pissing boys instead only appear from the mid- fifteenth century. Perhaps the Florentine sculptor (Niccolò Lamberti?) did not quite understand the meaning of the ancient type. The putto follows Lucretius’s description of pissing boys who “are lifting up their garments,” but that gesture makes the carved infant an exhibitionist who seems to be dancing in response to the music played by many of the other putti populat- ing the Porta’s reliefs.83 Either pissing or dancing, or both, the figure conveys the sense of bacchanalian celebration enjoyed in the afterlife that was appro- priate for both an ancient sarcophagus and a Christian church. Around the late 1450s, excess was very much the theme when Dona- tello depicted a pissing infant to one side of a wine press in a scene of grape treading and bacchanalian revelry (see fig. 9).84 It was one of three bronze reliefs on the base of his Judith Slaying Holofernes statue produced for the garden of the new Medici palace in Florence. As indicated by an inscription, humble, virtuous Judith conquered the besieging general, who was a symbol of sinful luxuria (incontinence) and pride. In 1550, Vasari’s emphasis on “the effect of wine and sleep” evident in Holofernes’s body drew out the theme of the reliefs. Although a Roman sarcophagus may have informed Donatello’s conception, the paradisal, bacchanalian joy of the ancient iconography is forsaken for indulgent excess and lack of self-control, befitting the way in which the military man succumbed to the seductions of wine and pleasure. Notably, the best positions for viewing the urinating putto are also the ones that enable the viewer to see Judith’s heavy clothing entirely covering the general’s genitals. One indulgent and penile activity is contrasted with the defeat of another. Restoration work in 1986 – 88 revealed that the reliefs were not per- forated, thereby disproving the common assumption that Donatello’s statue had functioned as a fountain, so there is no connection with actual water in the grape treading scene where one winged spiritello holds up his garment with both hands in order to urinate.85 Having drunk so much that he must pee where he stands, he directs the flow either just behind a sleeping reveler or into the ear of that exhausted youth. Either way, his bodily fluid is being freely “spent,” sodomitically cast in an inappropriate vessel. The scene also once more conjures the conceit of sound and disruption, and the adjacent relief indeed accentuates raucous celebration with two blaring horns held high. At other times, the element of soothing or amusing aural pleasure characterizes the depiction of urinating boys. As in some manuscript illumi- 354 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 nation, the relaxing, even chuckling sound of trickling water/urine is com- bined with a musical putto in Correggio’s early drawing of a fountain in which a cluster of pissing putti stand beneath a single boy blowing a horn.86 The entertaining eruption of sound is central to the scenario that accompa- nies the illustration of a pissing fountain in the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, a splendid, high-end product of the book industry in Venice published by the Aldine press in 1499 and written by Francesco Colonna (see fig. 10).87 The protagonist Poliphilo is tricked into approaching the fountain for some water, and he thereby activates a hidden mechanical device; hence “the little Priapus lifted his penis and squirted the freezing water in my hot face. . . . At this, such a high and feminine laughter echoed around the hollow dome that as I recovered, I too began to laugh fit to die.” Cunning women are con- trasted with the innocent “boy” Poliphilo. As befits a deceptive ensemble in which “all three faces were laughing,” the Greek inscription declares that the sculpture is of a Trickster, one who brings about laughter (Geloiastos). The Figure 9. Donatello, Putti at the Wine Press (1450s). Bronze, base of Judith and Holofernes. Palazzo Vecchio, Florence. Courtesy of the Ministero per i Beni e le Attività Culturali — Opificio delle Pietre Dure di Firenze, Archivio Fotografico. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 355 Figure 10. Fountain with pissing boy. Fran- cesco Colonna, Hypnerotoma- chia Poliphili (Venice, 1499), sig. E7r. Courtesy of the George Peabody Library, Sheridan Libraries, Johns Hopkins Univer- sity, Baltimore. 356 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 wit was akin to water play amongst courtiers, who might find themselves surprised by a flood or by spurts of water, from a syringe or from hidden jets, rising up between legs and petticoats, as Montaigne noted.88 Openly urinat- ing was quintessentially a masculine act, regarded in a joking fashion when the male was a mere infant, freighted with innocence and amusement, but the image shifted to more knowing wit in many contexts. Ceilings were another locale for watery wit. Just as putti released liquid downward from fountains or while hovering in the air, so too naked boys sometimes threatened to “rain” a kind of “water” down on viewers below who, like Poliphilo, must join in the fun and laugh. Mantegna’s joke in the oculus of the “camera picta” of the Ducal palace in Mantua is that either a precariously balanced tub or currently continent imps might cause a cascade at any moment. Giulio Romano later entertained the Mantuan court and its distinguished visitors with intertextual wit by painting a similar boy now urinating down on his audience in the Palazzo Te, augmented by liq- uid poured from the pitcher held by a female accomplice.89 While feminine fluid must issue from an enclosed vessel, male urine easily jets forth from an external member, and in a parabolic path. Yet again, masculine urination is exhibited as an act that projects, and with some force. Such ceiling paint- ings engage viewers, insisting that they not only watch out for themselves to keep dry but also appreciate the skillful foreshortening and the illusionistic joke. Bacchanalian and clever wit brings attention to the image and invites laughter, often of an eruptive, sudden kind. In the Hypnerotomachia, pissing virtually personifies laughter, characterized by unexpected mischief, ingenious cunning, and infectious, suddenly erupting sound. Given these features, it is not surprising that the Italian verb ridere, “to laugh” or “to smile,” also connoted sexual acts, par- ticularly sodomy.90 One of the anecdotes about Donatello’s erotic relations with his apprentices relates that when one assistant left after a quarrel, they made up by “laughing” at each other, a tale glossed in the sixteenth century as “licentioso.” Often a pictorial double entendre for ejaculation, the motif of the pissing boy in turn invited orgasmic laughter. The motif ’s erotic wit is central to the feature of the pissing boy in Titian’s Andrians (ca. 1521– 25), a painting executed for the studiolo or Cam- erino in the apartments of the Duke of Ferrara, Alfonso d’Este (see fig. 11).91 The canvas is an adaptation of a painting described in Philostratus’s ancient Greek Imagines, where Dionysus “leads Laughter and Revel, two spirits most gay and most fond of the drinking-bout” on the island of Andros (which, significantly, means “man” in ancient Greek).92 Due to the personification Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 357 of “the humorous one” in the Hypnerotomachia, it has been plausibly argued that Titian’s boy similarly allegorizes Laughter, while Philostratus’s Revel is encapsulated in the drunken sleep of the naked woman nearby.93 One of Titian’s inventions is the addition of the pissing boy, familiar from other scenes of wine pressing and imbibing, as well as musical revelry, and here with similar connotations of manly merriment and the elimination of “wine.” Philostratus observed that the stream of wine was “a river undi- luted” or “untempered,” so Titian’s vine-wreathed infant probably directs “wine” rather than “water” into that rivulet.94 He is a miniature bacchant whose infantile teetering, overly intense focus on simple acts, and public uri- nation enact the behavior expected of drunkards, people who have imbibed endlessly, just as the French lyrics of the nearby sheet of music encourage (“He who drinks and does not drink again, does not know what drinking is”). As another source of the oenoic stream, the pissing “trickster” is also akin to a Figure 11. Titian, The Andrians (ca. 1523 – 25). Oil on canvas. Courtesy of the Museo del Prado, Madrid. 358 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 junior river god, the youngest member of a “family” consisting of the supine patriarch on a hilltop and the slumbering, naked woman in the foreground. Her overturned urn recalls the traditional iconography of water sources, so she resembles a fountain nymph sleeping at her spring, also here implicitly of wine.95 Although age clearly differentiates the seminaked boy from the overtly nude woman, the erotic tenor of her sensual display and reverie is heightened by the adjacent act of masculine emission. The very incongruity is one of many reasons why Titian’s depiction of pissing evokes laughter. On a superficial level, the infant simply pees because he has had too much to drink.96 But we have seen that the act of seeming urination frequently signified more than that. Furthermore, to depict the outright mixing of wine with urine would disrupt the carefree tone, inserting a note of ribald caricature inappropriate to a chamber where the duke relaxed, con- versed, read, and entertained visitors. Rather, the infant performs an act of metamorphosis, turning amber urine into dark red wine, and he does so in a quintessentially masculine manner (as is the case with Reni’s young Bac- chus). Another coloristic alteration is engineered by a pissing boy in the cal- endar scene of February illuminated by Franco-Flemish artists in a breviary that the Venetian Cardinal Domenico Grimani had purchased by October 1520.97 The boy kneels at the threshold of his humble abode and lifts his gar- ment with both hands, directing a steady and copious flow into the snowy yard. The Venetian nobleman Marcantonio Michiel soon singled out the vignette for admiration, noting that the boy “urinating in the snow turns it yellow.”98 Warm urine becomes cold but colored ice, a conceit that the Vene- tian artist Titian may well have seen or heard about. Perhaps inspired by the illuminator, Titian presents a coloristic pun personified by an amusing babe who simultaneously attracts attention to the joke and to the artist’s skill. Urinating water, wine, or semen from fountain spouts in picto- rial and literary puns, the pissing putto is a figure of magic and masculine fun, as well as creativity and illusion. Almost like an alchemist, he mixed and transmuted fluids. In the Hypnerotomachia, the boy’s “little member” is “pissing cold water into the hot bath, to make it tepid,” and then it squirts freezing water into Poliphilo’s hot face.99 Laughter, rather than moderation, resulted from the unexpected, sensate combination. On the other side of the wall, Poliphilo had earlier enjoyed the erotic sight of a fountain consisting of a sleeping nymph whose nipples “spurted streams of water, cold from the right-hand one and hot from the left.”100 If the female figures of fountains directly emit fluids, it is usually from the breasts, as in Poliphilo’s fantasy land, thereby associating water with milk and blending erotic with nurtur- Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 359 ing fluids and body parts. In the paintings by Titian, Giulio Romano, and Zucchi, as in Colonna’s novel and Rembrandt’s etchings, sexual difference is centered on contrasted modes of emission. Lorenzo Lotto’s imagery The “pissing” male infant was not one clear iconographic type with only one meaning, a variety indicated by the unsettled nomenclature used by mod- ern scholars. “Putto pisciatore” is the most common phrase, but Latin and Italian variants abound, such as “putto pissatore,” “putto pissiator,” “putto mingens,” “puer mingens” and “putto mictans.” The motif ’s multivalence is evident in the work of the painter Lorenzo Lotto (ca. 1480 – 1556), who often produced images of urinating male characters. His first such figure was prob- ably the infant on the ceiling of the Oratorio Suardi (1524), which casts the familiar theme of the wine harvest in a pergola in relation to the eucharistic “Christ-Vine.” The humor has a religiously celebratory inflection, accompa- nied by an inscription above the boy’s head that urges joyful drinking and the banning of sadness.101 Not far to the left, below, the particularized image of a bird catcher may be a self-portrait, and then a side door interrupts the cycle. The self-conscious humor of the pissing putto, who directly gazes at viewers below, not only resonates with the artist’s portrait but also catches people entering or leaving the chapel with the conceit that those looking up must dart out of the way of the liquid cascade, so effective, moving, and clever is the artifice. The combination of wit and self-conscious play with an act signify- ing plentiful, joyous fluidity recurs in Lotto’s other renditions. His portrait of Andrea Odoni (1527) juxtaposes two bronze statuettes in a collection of antiquities, one showing Hercules mingens, whose piss arcing into a wom- an’s bathing vessel produces such a powerful, acidic jet that it has worn away the female figure’s lower leg.102 Although the Hercules mingens type is of an adult, here bearded, the depicted statuette is so much smaller than that of the bathing woman (probably Venus) that he appears to be an infant, his slight unsteadiness actually due to wine but doubling for childishness. The urinary effect is perhaps the painting’s riposte in the paragone debate: so much for the greater permanence of sculpture, when deftly handled oil paint can erode solid bronze with a few strokes. A third instance in Lotto’s repertoire occurs, if he painted Venus Adorned by the Graces, where a background vignette shows a boy, supported by a female figure, being toilet trained over a large basin or wellhead.103 The sexual goddesses’ kind of “toilette” is humorously comple- 360 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 mented by an earthy “toilet.” Earthiness is the point of the episode in the intarsia panel Lotto designed in 1527, showing Judith fleeing with the decapi- tated head of Holofernes.104 That horror is contrasted with the oblivious nighttime activity of decamped soldiers, two of whom squat and defecate, one of whom stands and urinates on a hill in the right background. To these relatively incidental instances of religious imagery, genre, and classicizing reference, Lotto added his Venus and Cupid painting in which the “pissing” infant is a major figure (see fig. 12).105 Dated anywhere between 1520 and 1540, the canvas shows a rather semenlike stream emit- ted from a red-tipped penis toward the naked woman’s genitals. The often raunchy humor of epithalamic poetry is echoed in what is very probably a wedding picture, one in which the portraitlike face of Venus is joined by a strangely adult face for Cupid too. His act is certainly more than childlike, and his fertilizing fluid that falls near petals that “stain” her thighs makes, I suggest, a joke about the masturbatory “macula” left on the thigh of the Knidian Aphrodite.106 In Lotto’s painting the goddess of sex fittingly receives from the cheeky daemon of love a liquid tribute that is a double entrendre, alluding to fertilization, “watering,” and ejaculatory desire. Boys emitting bodily fluid were represented everywhere, in one art- ist’s oeuvre in Lotto’s case, and in a variety of spaces and media, freighted with meanings ranging from poignant genre or irreverent classicism to witty piety and epithalamic celebration. In literature and visual imagery, an important proof of masculinity in the European tradition is to be able to emit fluids from the penis, usually with some force, and significantly while standing upright. In early modern culture, the fluids were multiple and metaphoric, inviting a range of wordplays and visual puns, many of them sexual in nature but often not nuptial or parturient in function. What seemed nothing more than urine often alluded to wine, water, or semen. While some “pissing” putti connote fertility, it is more a matter of the liq- uid and seed-laden nature of prolific semen than reproductive purpose that underlies the jaunty sense that female “gardens” are being “watered.” Erotic and comic possibilities were opened up by the multivalent and transform- ing nature of male body fluids. The delightful or overindulgent excesses of drinking wine, for instance, are featured in images of boys emitting streams that are ambivalently winy and urinary. The relief of the release of urine doubles for the pleasure of ejaculation, with male or female partners. Enjoy- able too are the jokes and quips to be made by literalizing and mocking euphemisms such as “making water” (with, for instance, “rain” falling from ceilings or “water” spouting from pissing fountains) or bawdy phrases like Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 361 one that coupled grinding with watering. Pissing became a virtual personifi- cation of laughter, which in turn might signify sex. The crucial deeds to be performed by a penis ranged beyond the penetrative. Most commonly visualized by way of images of “pissing” boys, the acts of masculine emission are often amusing, occurring amidst scenes of acrobatic, musical, bacchic, whimsical children. Alongside the picturing of what seems to be innocent, charming, fledgling masculinity, however, view- ers are often treated to double entendres and metaphors that add a contrary knowingness to the image. Lack of adult self-control then moves from char- acterizing the idyllic, carefree state of boyhood to personifying masculine bravado, potency, and sexuality. a Figure 12. Lorenzo Lotto, Venus and Cupid (ca. 1520 – 40). Oil on canvas. Metropolitan Museum of Art, New York, Purchase, Mrs. Charles Wrightsman Gift, in honor of Marietta Tree, 1986 (1986.138). Courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum of Art. 362 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 Notes I am grateful to Tim McCall and Monika Schmitter for their engagement with this project. Translations of sources are my own unless otherwise indicated. 1 Ernst Mayr, “On the Concepts and Terminology of Vertical Subspecies and Species,” Transactions of the American Philosophical Society 94 (1944): 48 – 53, esp. 51– 52. The term was developed further in Ernst Mayr, “Taxonomic Categories in Fossil Hom- inids,” Cold Spring Harbor Symposia on Quantitative Biology 15 (1950): 109 – 18, esp. 113, 117. 2 Alessandro Benedetti, Historia corporis humani sive Anatomice, ed. Giovanna Ferrari (Firenze: Giunti, 1998), 86; trans. L. R. Lind, Studies in Pre-Vesalian Anatomy: Biog- raphy, Translations, Documents (Philadelphia: American Philosophical Society, 1975), 83. The text was first published in Venice, 1502. 3 Benedetti, Historia corporis humani, 234; trans. Lind, Studies in Pre-Vesalian Anatomy, 112. 4 Helkiah Crooke, Microcosmographia: A Description of the Body of Man (London, 1615), 3, with the “upright frame . . . looking upwards” reiterated on 4 – 5, 11, 13. 5 K. J. Dover, Greek Homosexuality, rev. ed. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1989), 106. On Christianity, see James Brundage, “Let Me Count the Ways: Canonists and Theologians Contemplate Coital Positions,” Journal of Medieval His- tory 10 (1984): 81– 93. 6 Herodotus, Persian Wars 2.35, in Herodotus, Volume 1: Persian Wars, Books I–II, rev. ed., trans. A. D. Godley (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1926), 317. 7 Hesiod, Works and Days 727– 32, in Hesiod, Homeric Hymns, Epic Cycle, Homerica, rev. ed., trans. Hugh G. Evelyn-White (Cambridge Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1936), 57. 8 Luigi Bassano, Costumi, et i modi particolari de la vita de Turchi (1545), facsimile ed., Costumi et i modi particolari della vita de’ Turchi, ed. Franz Babinger (München: Max Hueber, 1963), fol. 59r: (“Gl’huomini orinano sedendo come le nostre donne . . . dicendo che l’orinare in piedi è cosa da bestie”); George Sandys, A Relation of a Jour- ney begun An. Dom. 1610 (London, 1615), 64: “all of them affect cleanlinesse so reli- giously, that . . . they never so much as make water, but they wash both their hands and privities: at which businesse they sequester themselves, and crouch to the earth; reviling the Christian whom they see pissing against a wall. . . . This they do to pre- vent that any part of either excrement should touch their garments, esteeming it a pol- lution, and hindering the acceptation of prayer.” 9 Juvenal, Satire 6.264, in The Sixteen Satires, 3rd ed., trans. Peter Green (London: Pen- guin, 1998), 42: “ride positis scaphium cum sumitur armis.” The degree to which a military force is culturally presumed to be masculine is reiterated by the put-down “Do you squat when you pee?” barked out at Navy SEAL trainees in the film G. I. Jane (1997). 10 Giovanni Boccaccio, Elegia di Madonna Fiammetta; Corbaccio, ed. Francesco Erbani (Milano: Garzanti, 1988), 243 (“tutte son femine, ma non pisciano”); trans. and ed. Anthony K. Cassell, The Corbaccio (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1975), 32. 11 Erik Hinterding, Ger Luijten, and Martin Royalton-Kisch, Rembrandt the Printmaker (London: British Museum Press, 2000), 105 – 7. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 363 12 Pietro Aretino, La cortigiana 3.8, ed Giuliano Innamorati (Torino: Einaudi, 1970), 91 (“non pisciano come le villane?”); Aretino, Ragionamento: Dialogo, ed. Paolo Procac- cioli (Milano: Garzanti, 1984), 177 (“Chi piscia come le altre è come le altre”). 13 Mina Gregori, Paintings in the Uffizi and Pitti Galleries (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1994), 230, plate 305. 14 On the four paintings, but not the dog (overpainted in the Ambrosiana example until a recent cleaning), see Harold E. Wethey, The Paintings of Titian: Complete Edition, Volume 1; The Religious Paintings (London: Phaidon, 1969), 63 – 68; Peter Humfrey, Titian: The Complete Paintings (Gent: Ludion, 2007), 294, 320. Una Roman D’Elia, “The Decorum of a Defecating Dog,” Print Quarterly 22 (2005): 125, 130, 132, offers an alternative reading. On the importance of Christ’s genital maleness, see Leo Stein- berg, The Sexuality of Christ in Renaissance Art and in Modern Oblivion, 2nd ed. rev. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1996). 15 Gender distinction is again the import of a panel painted around 1500 and attributed to Giuliano Bugiardini or an anonymous Florentine artist, in which a charming male infant and a male dog are each shown pissing in a piazza while Tobias and others feast in the loggia behind. See Colin Eisler, Masterworks in Berlin: A City’s Paintings Reunited (Boston: Little, Brown and Co., 1996), 196 – 97. Two naked boys play with a dog further to the right, so all the infants seen in public are male. 16 For gender differences, see Anne Jacobson Schutte, “Suffering from the Stone: The Accounts of Michel de Montaigne and Cecilia Ferrazzi,” Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance 64 (2002): 21– 36. I thank George Hoffmann for this reference. 17 Alice Dreger, Hermaphrodites and the Medical Invention of Sex (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1998), 39; see also 178 – 80, 188 – 89, 193 – 94, 199, 241 n. 35. 18 Antonio Benivieni, De abditis nonnullis ac mirandis morborum et sanationum causis, trans. Charles Singer (Springfield, Ill.: Charles C. Thomas, 1954), 34 – 35, also 170 – 71, with the Latin reproduced in a facsimile of the 1507 edition. For hypospadia, see The Seven Books of Paulus Aegineta 6.69, trans. Francis Adams, 3 vols. (London, 1846), 2:381, which was copied often, including in Albucasis, On Surgery and Instruments 2.70 (which classifies it as hermaphroditic), ed. M. S. Spink and G. L. Lewis (Lon- don: Wellcome Institute of the History of Medicine, 1973), 454; Ambroise Paré, Oeu- vres complètes, ed. J.-F. Malgaigne, 3 vols. (1840 – 41; repr. Genève: Slatkine Reprints, 1970), 2:458. 19 Dympna Callaghan, “The Castrator’s Song: Female Impersonation on the Early Modern Stage,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 26 (1996): 331. 20 Anton Francesco Grazzini, Le Cene 1.2, in Le Cene ed altre prose di Antonfrancesco Grazzini detto il Lasca, ed. Pietro Fanfani (Firenze, 1857), 20. 21 Paré, Oeuvres complètes, 2:458, 489 – 90. For other pipes, most of them illustrated, see 63, 87, 101– 2. 22 Ambroise Paré, Les oevvres de m. Ambroise Paré . . . Auec les figures & portraicts tant de l’anatomie que des instruments de chirurgie, & de plusieurs monstres. Le tout diuisé en vingt six liures . . . (Paris, 1575), 721; Paré, Oeuvres complètes, 2:612 – 13; facsimile ed. in The Collected Works of Ambroise Paré translated out of the Latin by Thomas Johnson from the first English edition, London, 1634 (Pound Ridge, N.Y.: Milford House, 1968), 876 – 77. 364 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 23 The Life and Adventures of Mrs. Christian Davies, the British Amazon, Commonly Called Mother Ross, 2nd ed. (London, 1741), 2. On dildoes, see Patricia Simons, “The Cultural History of ‘Seigneur Dildoe,’ ” forthcoming in Sex Acts in Early Modern Italy, ed. Allison Levy (Burlington, Vt.: Ashgate, 2010); or see the Italian version of the arti- cle, “La storia culturale del seigneur dildoe nell’Italia rinascimentale,” in Sesso nel Rina- scimento: Pratica, perversione e punizione nell’Italia rinascimentale, ed. Allison Levy (Firenze: Le Lettere, 2009), 73 – 88. 24 Rudolf M. Dekker and Lotte C. van de Pol, The Tradition of Female Transvestism in Early Modern Europe (London: Macmillan, 1989), 16, with the case of a cross-dressed woman “detected by a sailor while pissing, drunk” (22). 25 Paré, Oeuvres complètes, 2:612. 26 Brigitte Ericksson, trans., “A Lesbian Execution in Germany, 1721: The Trial Records,” Journal of Homosexuality 6 (1980 – 81): 35, hereafter quoted from 31– 39 passim. The German text is in Weibliche Homosexualität um 1900 in zeitgenössischen Dokumenten, ed. Ilse Kokula (München: Frauenoffensive, 1981), 91– 112. 27 Helmut Puff, “Female Sodomy: The Trial of Katherina Hetzeldorfer (1477),” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 30 (2000): 59 (the German), 61 (English trans.). Subsequent quotations are from the court document, 60 – 61. 28 Representations of cross-sex intercourse sometimes showed participants not having any visual experience of the other person’s genitals. See, for example, Cornelis Dusart’s watercolor Lascivious Couple (ca. 1687) in the British Museum, reproduced in H. Perry Chapman, Wouter Th. Kloek, and Arthur K. Wheelock Jr. et al., Jan Steen: Painter and Storyteller (Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 1996), 49, fig. 15; and Joachim Bueckelaer’s Brothel Scene (1562) in the Walters Art Gallery, Bal- timore, reproduced in Ger Luijten et al., Dawn of the Golden Age: Northern Nether- landish Art, 1580 – 1620 (Amsterdam: Rijksmuseum, 1993), 117, fig. 5. 29 Schultes’s oft-reprinted and translated Armamentarium Chirurgicum was a profusely illus- trated compendium of surgical instruments that included various perforated drainage pipes and a metallic insert or catheter for a diseased male urethra. See Johann Schultes, Armamentarium Chirurgicum XLIII . . . (Ulm, 1655); facsimile ed., Johannes Scultetus, Armamentarium Chirurgicum XLIII . . . (New York: Editions Medicina Rara, 1972), 8, 9, 55 – 56, and plates 12 – 14 and 39 – 40 (some are shown in use on a man’s chest in 47 and 49, and plate 37). For the German version, see Johann Schultes, Faksimile-Druck der Scultetus-Ausgabe von 1666 (Stuttgart: Kommissionsverlag W. Kohlhammer, 1974), 28 – 29, and plates 13 and 40 (and depicting their use, 114, plate 35). For the English version, see Johannes Scultetus, The Chyrurgeons Storehouse . . . (London, 1674), 30 – 31, 33, 36 – 37, 162, 167– 69, 186 – 87, 189 – 91, with the same plate numbers as the Latin edi- tion. In plate 39 a man urinates with the aid of a tubular insert while lying down, nev- ertheless depositing a solid, arcing stream into a chamber pot some distance away. Paré is often directly cited, and he was the acknowledged source for An Explanation of the Fashion and Use of three and fifty Instruments of Chirurgery appended to the second edi- tion of Crooke’s Microcosmographia (London, 1631), after 1012, reused by Alexander Read in 1634. See K. F. Russell, British Anatomy, 1525 – 1800: A Bibliography of Works Published in Britain, America, and on the Continent, 2nd ed. (Winchester, Eng.: St. Paul’s Bibliographies, 1987), nos. 223 and 682. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 365 30 The “twin-tube penis” is misunderstood as having separate paths for semen and urine in David Friedman, A Mind of Its Own: A Cultural History of the Penis (New York: Free Press, 2001), 58. For the tripartite distinction, see Charles D. O’Malley and J. B. de C. M. Saunders, Leonardo da Vinci on the Human Body (New York: Henry Schu- man, 1952), 352, 454, 460, 462, plates 204 – 5. 31 See, for example, J. N. Adams, The Latin Sexual Vocabulary (Baltimore: Johns Hop- kins University Press, 1982), 92, 142, 245 – 46, citing Catullus, Poems 67.23 – 30, among others. 32 Ficino’s quip is recorded in Angelo Poliziano, Detti piacevoli, ed. Tiziano Zanato (Roma: Istituto della Enciclopedia Italiana, 1983), 72, no. 185: “si vuole usare le donne come gl’orinali, che, come l’uomo v’ha pisciato drento, si nascondono e ripongono.” For sexual implications of the word orinale, see Salvatore Battaglia, Grande dizionario della lingua italiana, vol. 12 (Torino: U.T.E.T., 1984), 110, no. 4 (citing the sixteenth- century poet Francesco Beccuti, called Coppetta); Jean Toscan, Le carnaval du lan- gage: Le lexique érotique des poètes de l’ équivoque de Burchiello à Marino (Lille: Presses Universitaires de Lille, 1981), 1404 – 7. 33 Pasquinate romane del cinquecento, vol. 1, ed. Valerio Marucci, Antonio Marzo, and Angelo Romano (Roma: Salerno, 1982), 331– 32, no. 329; trans. James J. Wilhelm, Gay and Lesbian Poetry: An Anthology from Sappho to Michelangelo (New York: Gar- land, 1995), 318 – 19. 34 Giovan Francesco Bino, “In lode del bicchiere al Rè della virtù,” in Il secondo libro dell’opere burlesche di M. Francesco Berni, del Molza, di M. Bino, di M. Lodovico Mar- telli, di Matteo Franzesi, dell Aretino, e di diversi autori (1555; repr. London [i.e., Flor- ence?], 1723), 218: “Dicendo, che chi vuol viver giocondo, / Per dichiararvi ciò, c’ho detto addietro; / Senza altre pompe, o vanità del mondo, / Spenga la sete sua con un bel vetro.” The capitolo is also in Dicerie di Annibal Caro e di altri a’ Rè della virtù, ed. Bartolomeo Gamba (Calveley-Hall [Venice], 1821), 73 – 78, where it is named as a “Tributo . . . a Giuseppe Cincio medico fiammingo.” On the date and activities of the “Academy of Virtue,” see Patricia Simons and Monique Kornell, “Annibale Caro’s After-Dinner Speech (1536) and the Question of Titian as Vesalius’ Illustrator,” Renaissance Quarterly 61 (2008): 1069 – 97. 35 John Florio, Queen Anna’s New World of Words (London 1611), facsimile ed., Queen Anna’s New World of Words, 1611 (Menston, Yorkshire: Scolar Press, 1968), 493: “thirst, thirstinesse, desire to drinke, drought. Also greedinesse or great appetite of anything. Also all manner of silkes.” 36 Francesco Colonna, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, facsimile ed., ed. Marco Ariani and Mino Gabriele, 2 vols. (Milano: Adelphi Edizioni, 1998), 1:208 (“un altro vaso urinaceo, o vero di forma cucurbitacea”), and 2:846 – 47 nn.; Francesco Colonna, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili: The Strife of Love in a Dream, trans. Joscelyn Godwin (New York: Thames and Hudson, 1999), 207 (“another vase shaped like a urinal or rather a gourd”). He is describ- ing the chief element in a lamp hanging within the Temple of Venus, which is illustrated. I thank Rosemary Trippe for her assistance with this passage. 37 Francesco Berni, Rime, ed. Danilo Romei (Milano: Mursia, 1985), 52 – 54, dated to before August 1522. Romei notes that Berni’s “bicchiere” signified sexual “passivity” because it was held in a horizontal position when being used (53 n. 50). For genital 366 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 connotations of various containers like vases and drinking glasses, see Toscan, Car- naval du langage, 1397– 1422, 1668. 38 Bino, Secondo libro dell’opere burlesche, 214: “Corpacciutoni, e alti di mascelle, / Alti, e fondi, e non bassi come piatti. / Quei bicchierin, che come campanelle / Vanno sonando come infrescatoi, / Son da fanciulli, e da donne novelle.” 39 Baldassar Castiglione, Il libro del cortegiano 2.46, ed. Giulio Carnazzi (Milano: Riz- zoli, 1987), 160. 40 Jacques Levron, René Boyvin, graveur angevin du 16e siècle, avec catalogue de son oeu- vre et la reproduction de 114 estampes (Angers: J. Petit, 1941), plate 25, no. 7. In the later version, the stream continues past the backside; see the reproduction in Rebecca Zorach, Blood, Milk, Ink, Gold: Abundance and Excess in the French Renaissance (Chi- cago: University of Chicago Press, 2005), fig 4.34, although her comment refers to the uncensored plate (173). 41 On the desco, dated April 25, 1428, by an inscription on the recto side, see Paul Wat- son, “A Desco da Parto by Bartolomeo di Fruosino,” Art Bulletin 56 (1974): 4 – 9; Lau- rence B. Kanter’s entry in Painting and Illumination in Early Renaissance Florence, 1300 – 1450 (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1994), 311– 14, no. 43; Ceci- lia de Carli, I deschi da parto e la pittura del primo Rinascimento toscano (Torino: Alle- mandi, 1997), 98 – 101; and Jacqueline Marie Musacchio’s entry in Art and Love in Renaissance Italy, ed. Andrea Bayer (New York: Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2008), 152 – 54, no. 69. For the popularity of the pissing putto in Italian art, see Paul Barol- sky, Infinite Jest: Wit and Humor in Italian Renaissance Art (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, 1978), 161– 65. 42 On maternal imagination see, for example, Gen. 30:37– 42; Leon Battista Alberti, On the Art of Building in Ten Books 9.4, trans. Joseph Rykwert, Neil Leach, and Robert Tavernor (Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1988), 299; Ambroise Paré, On Monsters and Marvels, trans. Janis L. Pallister (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1982), 38 – 39. 43 Florio, Queen Anna’s New World of Words, 62. The word bischero is used in 1536 for the “little prick” of the statuette of a hermaphrodite in Annibale Caro, “La statue della foia ovvero di Santa Nafissa,” in Opuscoli del commendatore Annibal Caro: Com- mento di Ser Agresto da Ficaruolo sopra la prima ficata del padre Siceo, ed. G. Romag- noli (1861; repr. Bologna: Commissione per i Testi di Lingua, 1967), 205 (“uno bisch- ero ardito”). 44 Watson, “A Desco da Parto,” 4; Keith Christiansen, “Lorenzo Lotto and the Tradition of Epithalamic Paintings,” Apollo n.s. 124 (1986): 170. 45 The ideas about the pun and the popular saying are raised in Kanter’s entry on the desco (Painting and Illumination, 311). He identifies the coat of arms on the right as those of the Sienese family of the Montauri, but the instance he cites, a Biccherna cover of 1480, has a creature like a goat atop the monti and a star above, whereas the desco shows a lion rampant and no star. See L. Borgia et al., eds., Le Biccherne: Tavole dipinte delle magistrature senesi (secoli XIII–XVIII) (Roma: Ministero per i Beni Cul- turali e Ambientali, 1984), 182 – 83. 46 Riccardo Bruscagli, Trionfi e canti carnascialeschi del Rinascimento, 2 vols. (Roma: Sal- erno, 1986), 1:103 line 20, 260 – 61 (Bernardo Giambullari’s “Canzona dell’argento”), 267 line 25, 285 line 30; Toscan, Carnaval du langage, 628 – 29, 721– 24. Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 367 47 Ellen Callmann, Apollonio di Giovanni (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1974), 59 – 60, no. 16; Carli, Deschi da parto, 144 – 45; Mussachio’s entry in Art and Love in Renaissance Italy, 158 – 59, no. 72. 48 The quotation is from Christiansen, “Lorenzo Lotto,” caption to fig. 8, although it is based on a mistranslation of “poppe” as “poppies” in a passage from Vincenzo Car- tari, Imagini delli dei de gl’antichi (Venice, 1647), ed. Marco Bussagli and Mario Bus- sagli (Genoa: Nuova Stile Regina Editrice, 1987), 170, 173 n. 25 (first published 1556). The word means “breasts,” as is clear from the context. 49 Aretino, Ragionamento: Dialogo, 52 (“facendo prova della schiena del suo papavero”); Aretino’s Dialogues, trans. Raymond Rosenthal (New York: Stein and Day, 1971), 44. Papavero is not indexed in Toscan, Carnaval du langage. 50 Jokes about vegetables are plentiful. See, for instance, Philippe Morel, “Priape à la Renaissance,” Revue de l’art (1985): 16 – 17; Lorenzo de’ Medici, Tutte le opere, ed. Paolo Orvieto, 2 vols. (Roma: Salerno, 1992), 2:791– 94. Poppy capsules appear on painted or ceramic deschi and on the side panel of a marriage chest; see Jacqueline Musacchio, The Art and Ritual of Childbirth in Renaissance Italy (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1999), 130 – 31, figs. 56, 122 – 24, 131. Poppyheads that almost enter each other appear on the belt of Donatello’s enigmatic Atys-Amorino in the Museo Nazionale del Bargello, perhaps referring to opiate inebriation, as pointed out in H. W. Janson, The Sculpture of Donatello (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1963), 145, but also suggesting homoerotic conjunction. 51 Steinberg, Sexuality of Christ. 52 Augusto Campana, “Pueri mingentes nel quattrocento,” in Friendship’s Garland: Essays Presented to Mario Praz on His Seventieth Birthday, ed. Vittorio Gabrieli, 2 vols. (Roma: Edizioni di Storia e Letteratura, 1966), 1:31– 42, esp. figs. 3 – 5, and fig. 2 illus- trates a pissing infant in the margins of a mid-fifteenth-century musical treatise. For two putti urinating amidst acrobatic, musical, and other playful putti, see Maria Gra- zia Recanti, “Castello di Bianzano,” in I pittori bergamaschi dal xiii al xix secolo: Le origini (Bergamo: Edizioni Bolis, 1992), 418, no. 38, 424. 53 Giovanna Lazzi, “Il Cicerone Landau Finaly della Biblioteca Nazionale di Firenze,” in La miniatura italiana tra gotico e Rinascimento, 2 vols., ed. Emanuela Sesti (Firenze: Leo S. Olschki, 1985), 1:322, 325. Two anonymous engravings (one of Cupids at the Vintage, the other of the Fountain of Cupids, the latter fig. 6 here), which are probably Ferrarese in conception and date from the 1470s, also relate urine to a potable liquid to be enjoyed by an associate who holds a drinking bowl. See Arthur M. Hind, Early Italian Engraving: A Critical Catalogue with Complete Reproduction of All the Prints Described, 7 vols. in 4 (Nendeln, Liechtenstein: Kraus Reprint, 1970), 1:258 (E.III.18 and 20), 4: plates 410 and 412; Giovanni Sassu’s entry in Cosmè Tura e Francesco del Cossa: L’arte a Ferrara nell’età di Borso d’Este, ed. Mauro Natale (Ferrara: Ferrara Arte, 2007), 480 – 81, no. 158. Two putti similarly piss into drinking bowls held by com- panions below them in an ornamental panel engraved by Giovanni Pietro da Birago (formerly known as the Master of the Sforza Book of Hours); see Hind, Early Italian Engraving, 5:79 – 81, 6: plate 609, detail 10(9), one of twelve upright ornamental pan- els, probably designed as patterns for architectural decoration. 54 Lilian Armstrong, The Paintings and Drawings of Marco Zoppo (New York: Garland, 368 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 1976), 298 – 92 and plate 1. The “Parchment Book” probably dates from the late 1450s or early 1460s: Hugo Chapman, Padua in the 1450s: Marco Zoppo and His Contempo- raries (London: British Museum Press, 1998), 66. 55 D. Stephen Pepper, Guido Reni (Oxford: Phaidon, 1984), 279, no. 170. Two engrav- ings and two painted copies suggest that the joke was popular. For wine connoting sexual pleasure or acts, see Toscan, Carnaval du langage, 1486 – 90, 1767. 56 Perhaps there was a variant of a fourteenth-century saying, “il vino sciocco . . . poco nutrica e tosto l’orina commuove” [insipid wine nourishes little and soon leads to piss], in Battaglia, Grande dizionario, s.v. orina, 12:109. 57 Pierre de Bourdeille, Seigneur de Brantôme, Les dames galantes, ed. Maurice Rat (Paris: Éditions Garnier Frères, 1965), 30: “les unes beuvoyent en riant, et les autres beuvoyent en se ravissant; les unes se compissoyent en beuvant, et les autres beuvoyent en se compissant; je dis, d’autre chose que de pissat.” 58 Drawings by Michelangelo in the Collection of Her Majesty the Queen at Windsor Castle, the Ashmolean Museum, the British Museum, and Other English Collections (London: British Museum, 1975), 103, no. 122; Michael Hirst, Michelangelo and His Drawings (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1988), 115 – 16. It was also reproduced in an engraving by Beatrizet. As far as I know, the similarity with earlier works of the kind adduced here has not been noted before. 59 Battaglia, Grande dizionario, 1:129 (“Fare acqua: orinare”); Giordano da Pisa, Quaresi- male fiorentino, 1305 – 1306, ed. Carlo Delcorno (Firenze: Sansoni, 1974), 203 (“schifare e fannosi come acqua”). Randle Cotgrave, A Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues (1611), facsimile ed., A Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues, 1611 (Menston, Yorkshire: Scolar Press, 1968), has under pisser “to pisse, to stale, to make water,” and under uriner “to urine, pisse, make water.” 60 Margaret Haines, La Sacrestia della messe del Duomo di Firenze (Firenze: Cassa di Ris- parmio di Firenze, 1983), 126 – 29, figs. 74 – 75. 61 Aretino, Ragionamento: Dialogo, 79; Aretino’s Dialogues, 63 (adapted). A baptismal sprinkler (battisteo) means “penis” on 91. The work closes with a suggestive garden and fountain (494). For a French instance, see Brantôme, Les dames galantes, 30 (“alla avec son serviteur prendre de cette bonne eau qui est si douce sans sucre, et que son serviteur luy donna de sa petite burette”). For English examples, see Eric Partridge, Shakespeare’s Bawdy, 3rd ed. (New York: Routledge, 1968), 144 (“make water”), 210 (“urine”), 215 (“water” and “watering”); Gordon Williams, A Dictionary of Sexual Language and Imagery in Shakespearean and Stuart Literature, 3 vols. (London: Ath- lone, 1994), 3:1256 – 57 (“sluice”), 1505 (“water”). 62 Bruscagli, Trionfi e canti carnascialeschi, 2:404 (“la s’annaffia o getta; l’è un’acqua benedetta”), also 403 line 9 for equivocal “rain.” For other examples of ejaculated “acqua,” see, for instance, 26 line 36; 410 lines 21– 22 (“L’acqua con che no’ bagnano / esce d’una certa vena”); 449 – 50 (lines 23 – 40 passim). 63 Antonio Beccari, Le Rime di Maestro Antonio da Ferrara (Antonio Beccari), ed. Laura Bellucci (Bologna: Riccardo Pàtron, 1972), 188 (in poem 41, beginning “Le stelle uni- versali e i ciel rotanti,” line 13, “a spargere ’l suo seme”); Aretino, Ragionamento: Dia- logo, 176 (“son tanti vari i semi che si spargono nei nostri orti”), also 252. “Kisses, smiles, words, jokes, caresses and embraces of girls have proven that seed and fruit Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 369 sparga and produce that desire which is by us called amore”: Francesco Sansovino, Ragionamento (1545), in Arnaldo di Benedetto, Prose di Giovanni della Casa e altri trattatisti cinquencenteschi del comportamento (Torino: U.T.E.T., 1970), 648. Spargere means “ejaculation” in Lucian, I dialoghi piaceuoli; Le uere narrationi; Le facete epistole (Venice, 1551), fol. 176r (first published in this Italian translation in Venice in 1525). 64 Aretino, Ragionamento: Dialogo, 120; see also 240. Berni’s phallic eel “squirts force- fully and then comes away / even more if you clasp and enclose it” [sguizz per forza] (Rime, 42 [8.17– 18]). The verb used for ejaculation, sguizzare, nicely summons both senses given in Florio: “to glide as fish in the water, to slide as upon ise. Also to spurt or squirt” (Queen Anna’s New World of Words, 498). 65 Aristotle, Generation of Animals 736a, trans. A. L. Peck (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1942), 163. For the multivalence of bodily secretions, primarily in the ancient tradition, see W. Deonna, “Fontaines anthropomorphes: La femme aux seins jaillissants et l’enfant ‘mingens,’ ” Genava 6 (1958): 268 – 69 and passim. 66 Matteo Bandello, Le novelle 1.53, ed. Delmo Maestri, 4 vols. (Alessandria: Edizioni dell’Orso, 1992 – 97), 1:484, 489. For a similar sense of “watering the garden,” see 1.9 and 1.15 (1:96, 129); 2.20 and 2.57 (2:149, 520); 3.64 (3:301). While Boccaccio’s busy gardener in a nunnery is an inspiration, the relevant verbs he uses are “labour” and “ride,” not “water.” See Giovanni Boccaccio, Decameron 3.1, ed. Cesare Segre (Milano: Mursia, 1966), 181– 86. Inacquare, in the sense of diluting wine, is used to comedic effect in Boccaccio, Decameron 7.4 (432 – 33); and Pietro Aretino, La cor- tigiana 5.2, ed. Giuliano Innamorati (Torino: Einaudi, 1970), 117. The definition is clear in Florio, Queen Anna’s New World of Words, 241: “Inacquare, to water as they doe Gardens, to put into water, to put water into wine, to sprinkle with water.” 67 Allen Marquand, Andrea della Robbia and His Atelier, 2 vols. (Princeton, N.J.: Prince- ton University Press, 1922), 2:184 – 85, no. 335; illustrated in Bertha Harris Wiles, The Fountains of Florentine Sculptors and Their Followers from Donatello to Bernini (Cam- bridge Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1933), fig. 12. From the garden of the Palazzo Pucci in Florence, the Bode Museum attributes it to Girolamo della Robbia (ca. 1515 – 20). 68 Hind, Early Italian Engraving, 1:58 (A.I.93), 2: plate 85; Evelyn Welch, Shopping in the Renaissance: Consumer Cultures in Italy, 1400 – 1600 (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2005), 45 and fig. 50. 69 For example, Adams, Latin Sexual Vocabulary, 24, 152 – 53, 219; Boccaccio, Decam- eron 8.2 (474 – 75); Poggio Bracciolini, Facezie, ed. Marcello Ciccuto (Milano: Rizzoli, 1983), 194, no. 75; Florio, Queen Anna’s New World of Words, 293 (“Macinio, greest or grinding-corne, taken also for carnall copulation”); Aretino, Ragionamento: Dialogo, 39; Toscan, Carnaval du langage, 1252, 1469 – 72, 1519, 1693, 1713, 1760 (for farina, macinare, mulino, and tramoggia); Williams, Dictionary of Sexual Language, 2:624 – 25 (“grind”), 887– 89 (“mill”), 3:1505 (“water”). 70 Masuccio Salernitano, Il novellino, ed. Giorgio Petrocchi (Firenze: Sansoni, 1957), 16 (novella 1), 332 (novella 36, “forzato a tale lavore, da una volta in su diede acqua al non suo molino”). 71 In Bandello, Le novelle 3.31 (3:152), a Venetian courtesan grinds several sacks of grain in her rooms, and “her mill never squeezed in vain,” nor rusts due to lack of use. See 370 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 also 1.37 and 1.53 (1:351, 489); 2.11 and 2.20 (2:102, 149); 3.27 and 3.52 (3:137– 38, 236); 4.17 (4:128). 72 Aretino, Ragionamento: Dialogo, 120 (“macinava a raccolta diede la acqua al molino”); Aretino’s Dialogues, 94 (trans. adjusted). In Aretino’s Dialogues, 289, a group of men raping a woman “poured their bottled-up water [acqua] onto the mill wheel” (trans. adjusted); Ragionamento: Dialogo, 380 (“davano il bottaccio de l’acqua al molino”). 73 For arrosto or lesso meats, see Berni, Rime, 152; Bruscagli, Trionfi e canti carnascial- eschi, 1:267 line 23, 404 line 23, and passim; Toscan, Carnaval du langage, 543 – 47, 1663, 1771; Deborah Parker, Bronzino: Renaissance Painter as Poet (Cambridge: Cam- bridge University Press, 2000), 28. 74 Florio, Queen Anna’s New World of Words, 244, 550. For tagliare see Toscan, Carnaval du langage, 1391– 95, 1756; and see 1373, 1390, 1486, 1680, and passim for coltello, intagliare, and trinciare. 75 Aretino, Ragionamento: Dialogo, 56, 143, 298; Williams, Dictionary of Shakespeare’s Sexual Language, 3:1208. 76 Bruscagli, Trionfi e canti carnascialeschi, 1:85 (lines 26 – 28), and see also 135 – 37 for “Canzona di lanzi tagliatori a tavola,” and 407 line 5. 77 Petrarch’s Lyric Poems: The “Rime sparse” and Other Lyrics, trans. and ed. Robert M. Durling (Cambridge Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1976), 297, no. 151: “in che in suoi strali Amor dora et affina.” 78 John R. Clarke, The Houses of Roman Italy, 100 b.c.–a.d. 250: Ritual, Space, and Decoration (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), 211– 14. For early mod- ern fountains of female figures emitting water like milk from their breasts, or pissing putti, see Guy de Tervarent, “L’origine des fontaines anthropomorphes,” Bulletin de la Classe des Beaux-Arts 38 (1956): 122 – 29, with ancient examples noted on 127– 29; Deonna, “Fontaines anthropomorphes,” 239 – 96, including vases with phallic spouts on 266 – 68. 79 The Priapus Poems: Erotic Epigrams from Ancient Rome, trans. Richard W. Hooper (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1999), 78 – 79 (with the Latin). 80 Marc Lanval, L’enigme du Manneken-Pis (Bruxelles: Les Editions du Laurier, 1953). De Tervarent, “L’origine des fontaines anthropomorphes,” 127, cites a document of July 3, 1377, regarding the fountain. 81 See, for instance, two Florentine marble statues of the mid-fifteenth century, in Fran- çoise de la Moureyre-Gavoty, Sculpture italienne: Musée Jacquemart-André (Paris: Édi- tion des Musées Nationaux, 1975), no. 43; Enrica Neri Lusanna and Lucia Faedo, eds., Il Museo Bardini a Firenze (Milano: Electa, 1986), 258, no. 193. On Pierino da Vinci, see Charles Dempsey, Inventing the Renaissance Putto (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2001), 112, and quoted below. There is a variant in a private collection in Venice: Alessandro Parronchi, “Alcuni inediti,” in Marco Cianchi, ed., Pierino da Vinci (Firenze: Becocci Editore, 1995), 31, figs. 44 and 46. 82 Phyllis Pray Bober and Ruth Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture: A Handbook of Sources (London: Harvey Miller and Oxford University Press, 1986), 91. A photograph of the detail, on the lower right of the lunette’s frame, is available at the Census of Antique Works of Art Known to the Renaissance, census ID no. 64034, at www.census.de (Dec. 13, 2008). On the Porta and its “interpetatio Christiana in clas- Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 371 sical guise,” see Leopold D. Ettlinger, “Hercules Florentinus,” Mitteilungen des Kun- sthistorischen Instituts in Florenz 16 (1972): 120 – 28. For attribution, see Mary Berg- stein, The Sculpture of Nanni di Banco (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2000), 89 – 93. 83 Lucretius, De rerum natura 4.1027, trans. W. H. D. Rouse, rev. Martin Ferguson Smith, rev. ed. (Cambridge Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1992), 357. 84 The literature on the statue is extensive, though the reliefs receive little detailed atten- tion. See Edgar Wind, “Donatello’s Judith: A symbol of ‘sanctimonia,’ ” Journal of the Warburg Institute 1 (1937): 62 – 63; Janson, Sculpture of Donatello, 198 – 205; Francesco Caglioti, Donatello e i Medici: Storia del “David” e della “Giuditta,” 2 vols. (Firenze: Leo S. Olschki, 2000), 1:81– 100 and passim; Dempsey, Inventing the Renaissance Putto, 55 – 58. 85 Antonio Natali, “Exemplum salutis publicae,” in Donatello e il restauro della Giuditta, ed. Loretta Dolcini (Firenze: Centro Di, 1988), 27; Caglioti, Donatello e i Medici, 83 – 84 and passim; cf. Dempsey, Inventing the Renaissance Putto, 57– 58. In Adrian W. B. Randolph, Engaging Symbols: Gender, Politics, and Public Art in Fifteenth- Century Florence (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2002), 264 – 65, the ref- erence to a “stealing girl” in an inscription on the Priapus statue in the garden of the Medici palace is misunderstood. It does not refer to Donatello’s nearby Judith, for the statue was probably located at some distance (Caglioti, plate 18), and the thief is actu- ally a common motif in the Priapea, along with addresses to women (Priapus Poems, passim). 86 A. E. Popham, Correggio’s Drawings (London: British Academy, 1957), 17– 18, 149, no. 3 (ca. 1510 – 12). 87 Colonna, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, 1:84 – 85 and 2:686 – 88); trans. Godwin, Strife of Love in a Dream, 84 – 85. In the French translation, published in Paris in 1546, the redrawn image included a copious stream of urine. See Francesco Colonna, Le Songe de Poliphile, trans. Jean Martin, ed. Gilles Polizzi (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1994), 85 – 87. A later scene of the wine harvest includes the usual pergola, wine press, and pissing boy, who is not mentioned in the text (Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, 1:175). 88 Montaigne, “Travel Journal,” in The Complete Works of Montaigne, trans. Donald M. Frame (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1957), 901, 928, 931, 963. For an amorous game involving a blindfold and a syringe filled from a fountain, see the Gar- den of Love painted by the Vivarini workshop ca. 1465 – 70, in Ursula Hoff, European Painting and Sculpture before 1800, 3rd ed. (Melbourne: National Gallery of Victoria, 1973), 160 – 62. On hidden water spouts and sudden floods in Poggioreale and else- where, see George Hersey, “Water-Works and Water-Play in Renaissance Naples,” in Fons Sapientiae: Renaissance Garden Fountains, ed. Elisabeth B. MacDougall (Wash- ington, D.C.: Dumbarton Oaks, 1978), 73 and n. 67, also MacDougall’s introduc- tion, 7. 89 Mantegna’s Camera degli Sposi, ed. Michele Cordaro (Milano: Electa, 1993), 30 – 52 (illustrations); Barolsky, Infinite Jest, 135 – 36 and figs. 5 – 18 (Giulio Romano). The semireclining pissing putto squeezed awkwardly behind a fictive “quadro” in Anni- bale Carracci’s Farnese Galleria is amusing due to the very anomaly of his position and posture. See Giuliano Briganti, André Chastel, and Roberto Zapperi, Gli amori 372 Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies / 39.2 / 2009 degli dei: Nuove indagini sulla Galleria Farnese (Roma: Edizioni dell’Elefante, 1987), plate 33. 90 Toscan, Carnaval du langage, 1179 – 81, 1389. An Italian verb for “to ejaculate” was gri- dare, “to call out,” akin to the sudden release of sound also evident in laughter, often used in a sodomitical sense (1127– 28, 1704). On Donatello, see also Poliziano, Detti piacevoli, 84, no. 234; Lodovico Domenichi, Detti, et fatti de diversi signori et persone private (Venice, 1562), fol. 127v (“licentioso”). 91 The bibliography is extensive, although the incident of urination does not often receive close attention. See Harold E. Wethey, The Paintings of Titian: Complete Edi- tion, vol. 3, The Mythological and Historical Paintings (London: Phaidon, 1975), 37– 41, 151– 53, no. 15; Humfrey, Titian, 103; Anthony Colantuono, “Tears of Amber: Titian’s Andrians, the River Po and the Iconology of Difference,” in Phaethon’s Chil- dren: The Este Court and Its Culture in Early Modern Ferrara, ed. Dennis Looney and Deanna Shemek (Tempe: Medieval and Renaissance Texts and Studies, 2005), 225 – 52, esp. 239 – 40. 92 Philostratus, Imagines 1.25, trans. Arthur Fairbanks (Cambridge Mass.: Harvard Uni- versity Press, 1960), 96 – 99. 93 Harry Murutes, “Personifications of Laughter and Drunken Sleep in Titian’s ‘Andri- ans,’ ” Burlington Magazine 115 (1973): 518 – 25. 94 The Fairbanks translation of Philostratus has “undiluted”; Rigas N. Bertos, “A Short Note on the Bacchanal of the Andrians,” Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz 20 (1976): 407, has “untempered.” 95 On fountain nymphs, see Murutes, “Personifications,” 522. 96 Some scholars prefer to interpret his act only on the level of charming genre, for example, Philip Fehl, “The Worship of Bacchus and Venus in Bellini’s and Titian’s Bacchanals for Alfonso d’Este,” Studies in the History of Art 6 (1974): 79 n. 100 (“the motif . . . is more reasonably and generously explained . . . by a consideration of the most harmless side-effect of drunkenness”); Erwin Panofsky, Problems in Titian Mostly Iconographic (London: Phaidon, 1969), 101– 2 (“the infant . . . can do nothing but pass water” and is “naughty”); and Paul Holberton, “Battista Guarino’s Catullus and Titian’s ‘Bacchus and Ariadne,’ ” Burlington Magazine 128 (1986): 349 (agreeing with Fehl). 97 Giorgio E. Ferrari, Mario Salmi, and Gian Lorenzo Mellini, The Grimani Breviary, Reproduced from the Illuminated Manuscript Belonging to the Biblioteca Marciana, Ven- ice (Woodstock, New York: Overlook Press, 1974), plate 3, and 263 for the date. 98 Marco Antonio Michiel, Notizia d’opere del disegno: Edizione critica a cura di Theodor Frimmel, Vienna 1896 (Firenze: Edifir, 2000), 56: “uno fanciullo orinando nella neve, la fa gialla.” Neither citing Michiel nor reproducing the illumination, Campana, “Pueri mingentes nel quattrocento,” 39, suggests a connection between Titian’s Andri- ans and the Grimani scene, but the idea does not seem to have been picked up by other scholars. More often, Titian’s inspiration is said to be classical, following Saxl’s passing remark about a pissing infant on an ancient sarcophagus, who only uses one hand, however, to lift his garments. See Fritz Saxl, A Heritage of Images (Harmonds- worth, Middlesex: Penguin, 1970), 97, fig. 126; Bober and Rubinstein, Renaissance Artists and Antique Sculpture, 91, no. 53. The projection of one leg in front of the other Simons / Manliness and Bodily Fluids 373 and the tilt of the head are additional features shared by Titian’s figure and that of the Grimani breviary, but not the Roman relief. 99 Colonna, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, 1:84; trans. Godwin, Strife of Love in a Dream, 84. 100 Colonna, Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, 1:71, 84; trans. Godwin, Strife of Love in a Dream, 71, 84. 101 Lotto: Gli affreschi di Trescore, ed. Carlo Pirovano (Milano: Electa, 1997), 49, 118, 121. 102 On the painting, see Barbara Coli, “Lorenzo Lotto e il ritratto cittadino: Andrea Odoni,” in Il Ritratto e la Memoria: Materiali 1, ed. Augusto Gentile (Roma: Bulzoni, 1989), 183 – 204, esp. 195 – 200; and Peter Humfrey’s entry in Lorenzo Lotto: Redis- covered Master of the Renaissance (Washington, D.C.: National Gallery of Art, 1997), 161– 64, no. 28. On the Hercules mingens type, see Deonna, “Fontaines anthropomor- phes,” 264 – 65, fig. 122. 103 Christiansen, “Lorenzo Lotto,” 170; Coli, “Lorenzo Lotto,” 198, fig. 19. 104 Francesca Cortesi Bosco, Il coro intarsiato di Lotto e capoferri per Santa Maria Mag- giore in Bergamo (Milano: Silvana, 1987), 469 – 75, plate 226. The urinary flow estab- lishes that the troops are well watered, in contrast to the besieged populace whose water source had been seized according to Judith (7.6 – 25 passim). 105 Christiansen, “Lorenzo Lotto”; Peter Humfrey, Lorenzo Lotto (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1997), 139 – 40; Andrea Brayer’s entry in Art and Love in Renais- sance Italy, 321– 23, no. 148. 106 Several features recall the discussion about desire conducted near the Knidian temple in pseudo-Lucian’s Erotes. 
work_5d2tmvqpbjb4beupehts7zhflq	----	Durham Research Online Deposited in DRO: 04 April 2018 Version of attached �le: Accepted Version Peer-review status of attached �le: Peer-reviewed Citation for published item: O'Brien, John (2016) �Le Propre de l'homme' : reading Montaigne's 'Des cannibales' in context.', Forum for modern language studies., 53 (2). pp. 220-234. Further information on publisher's website: https://doi.org/10.1093/fmls/cqw056 Publisher's copyright statement: This is a pre-copyedited, author-produced PDF of an article accepted for publication in Forum for modern language studiesfollowing peer review. The version of recordO'Brien, John (2017). �Le Propre de l'homme� Reading Montaigne's `Des cannibales' in Context. Forum for Modern Language Studies 53(2): 220-234is available online at: https://doi.org/10.1093/fmls/cqw056 Additional information: Use policy The full-text may be used and/or reproduced, and given to third parties in any format or medium, without prior permission or charge, for personal research or study, educational, or not-for-pro�t purposes provided that: • a full bibliographic reference is made to the original source • a link is made to the metadata record in DRO • the full-text is not changed in any way The full-text must not be sold in any format or medium without the formal permission of the copyright holders. Please consult the full DRO policy for further details. Durham University Library, Stockton Road, Durham DH1 3LY, United Kingdom Tel : +44 (0)191 334 3042 | Fax : +44 (0)191 334 2971 https://dro.dur.ac.uk https://www.dur.ac.uk https://doi.org/10.1093/fmls/cqw056 http://dro.dur.ac.uk/24447/ https://dro.dur.ac.uk/policies/usepolicy.pdf https://dro.dur.ac.uk 1 ‘Le Propre de l’homme’: Reading Montaigne’s ‘Des cannibales’ in Context Abstract This article undertakes an ‘embedded reading’ of the term ‘cannibale’ in chapter 31 of Montaigne’s Essais, bringing out the preconceptions about both the term and the Brazilian natives which Montaigne does so much to revise. Different understandings of ‘cannibale’ and associated terms such ‘barbare’ and ‘sauvage’ are explored, with radically different implications for ‘le propre de l’homme’ to which such descriptors are linked. It is shown that the French Wars of Religion played a major role in undermining distinctions between epithets designating civilised and barbaric, human and inhuman, and Christian and pagan. Three examples of seventeenth-century discussions of ‘Des cannibales’ are provided in order to demonstrate the long-term effects of Montaigne’s work. Keywords Montaigne cannibals ‘le propre de l’homme’ Wars of Religion ‘Cannibale’, ‘barbare’, ‘sauvage’. Any modern reader of Montaigne’s ‘Des cannibales’ must find it odd that the chapter title is brought into immediate juxtaposition with ‘barbare’ and shortly afterwards with ‘sauvage’ without any transition, explanation or prefatory entrée en matière. Partly we account for such a brusque approach by ascribing it to the essayist’s tactics: many other chapters – ‘Des boyteux’ is but one example – also make no initial obvious reference to their chosen topic, but build indirectly by the accumulation of examples and practices which supply evidence and argument.1 In ‘Des cannibales’, the same technique is applied: the essayist develops patterns of association rather than setting out a formal case and in so doing, highlights both the 2 polysemousness of the term ‘cannibale’ and the network of assumptions and loose equivalences his contemporaries made about cannibals.2 By way of understanding Montaigne’s intellectual purpose in chapter 1.31, it is to that larger background of examples of such associations that I shall first turn, undertaking what I term an ‘embedded reading’ which tries to show what historically located readers understood by the vocabulary they used. The purpose of this move, though lexicological in appearance, is in fact to restore to full visibility the value judgements to which Montaigne alludes in his essay, but which he nowhere expressly spells out or lists in detail, and to demonstrate how the essayist deliberately sets out to challenge what he labels ‘opinions vulgaires’ and ‘la voix commune’.3 The approach adopted here is similar to various recent critical perspectives. It focuses, to borrow Richard Scholar’s deft formulation in a related context, both ‘on language in history and on language as history’.4 It also recalls Neil Kenny’s study of ‘word histories’. In his study of curiosity in the early modern period, Kenny pursues a Wittgenstinian line by examining the relations of ‘family resemblance, hovering between similarity and difference’5 which his chosen term embodies. As he goes on to explain, the word history attends to ‘a network of family resemblances that was constantly being extended, though not according to any set of definable criteria’.6 Although broadly reminiscent of the word history, the ‘embedded reading’ seeks principally to chart the collision of that principle of copious extension with particular historical circumstances which, in this case, will give ‘cannibale’ its special explosive power in Montaigne’s work. This particular angle of attack builds on the research of Anne-Pascale Pouey-Mounou, even though she does not deal directly with Montaigne. She argues that the proliferation and especially the clash of meanings in epithets and descriptors in the French Renaissance gave rise to what she terms a ‘re-qualification’ of the world: meanings became centrifugal, difficult to capture within a single framework. She further claims that this in turn precipitated a change in what was ‘proper’ – both essential and fitting – to the object in question and that this was most notably the case in respect of what it was to be human and what 3 exactly was ‘le propre de l’homme’.7 That larger framework of reference adumbrated by Pouey- Mounou is one to which we shall return at various points here. To begin, then, with De la Porte’s entry in his 1571 Epithetes, which offers some representative testimony about understandings of the term ‘cannibale’: Canibales ou Caribes. Brutaus, cruels, lascifs, farouches, insulaires, dangereus, barbares, nuds, impiteus ou impitoiables, orgueilleus, bazanez ... sauuages.8 Tellingly, De la Porte’s primary association of ‘canibale’ is that of cruelty, an idea which occurs in various guises in the list and it seems that the cannibals are considered ‘barbares’ in view of their cruelty rather than absolutely. ‘Sauuages’ is the last word in the sequence; whether it is intended to act as a summary of the characteristics, or is just another association, is difficult to ascertain. But it is at least noteworthy that it is not the first idea listed by De la Porte. While the evidence of the list is admittedly comparatively limited, it nonetheless offers a brief sketch of the main assumptions which other writers fill out in more detail and greater specificity. Cannibal cruelty is expressly part of the Brazilian travel accounts of Thevet and Léry, but it recurs in other contexts. When Henri Estienne brought out the first book of his Prémices ou proverbes epigrammatisez in 1593, he helped his readers understand his use of the noun ‘cannibale’ and the verb ‘cannibalizer’ by providing them with a note linking the two terms as signifiers of cruelty.9 A few years earlier, in 1587, Adam Blackwood claimed that Mary Queen of Scots would have received less cruel treatment among the cannibals than she had at the hands of the English.10 More expansively, Thevet’s depiction of Nacol-Absou, ‘Roy du Promontoire des Cannibales’ in the Vrais Pourtraits clusters a series of pejorative terms and expressions around the figure of this king (or kinglet, ‘roitelet’, as Thevet styles him).11 He is a ‘Barbare’ who exhibits ‘Tigresque cruauté’ as well as ‘quelque furibonde & Barbaresque inhumanité’ in his ‘horrible & execrable boucherie’ of 67 4 captured Portuguese prisoners, so much so that even the other cannibals groan aloud and the nearby Spanish hear their cries of horror, if not quite of compassion.12 The three key ideas – cruelty, inhumanity and butchery – partly share at least one common term: barbarity. Barbarity lies both in the cruelty and in the inhumanity; conversely, cruelty and inhumanity prove barbarity. The animal analogy likewise reduces Nacol-Absou to below the level of the human and the humane, and yet also , for Thevet, testifies to that natural corruption occasioned by sin such that human beings ‘sentre-gourmandent l’vn l’autre’.13 Even reduced to the level of an animal, Nacol-Absou cannot escape condemnation for behaviour which is an affront to the human. ‘[S]entre-gourmandent’ is the first time in this context that any express reference to consumption has occurred, and it is metaphorical at that, as there is no evidence in the passage that Nacol- Absou ate the Portuguese prisoners or caused them to be eaten. Indeed, more generally, the cannibal was not automatically or uniformly a man eater, and Renaissance opinion on this matter varied. Peter Martyr’s influential work on the New World, which came out more than two decades before Thevet, devotes considerable space to the cannibals from the Christian perspective, with special attention to their man-eating habits, using the Greek term ἀνθρωποφάγοι (man eaters) to describe them at several points in his account.14 By contrast, Rabelais couples the terms ‘rusticques et barbares’ in chapter 9 of Gargantua,15 while Guillaume Bouchet’s third book of Serees (1598) has a short tale relating to ‘Barbares, Ameriquains, Cannibales’ in which he states, ‘Et puis nous les nommons Barbares, rudes, & sauuages: mais ce n’est pour autre chose, sinon que Barbar signifie desert...’.16 No mention here of man eating, but instead, as with Rabelais, ‘barbare’ in the sense of ‘rusticall’ or ‘unciuil’, as Cotgrave translates it, or rather in Bouchet’s case the place where such behaviour happens. In an unconscious parallel to Bouchet’s sentiments, François de Rosières offers a complementary view in his Six Livres des politiques of 1574: 5 Et combien que nous deuions entretenir, & loger les estrangers, pour ce bien qui nous en vient, ce neantmoins les Scythes, & Tartares ont vsé de grande cruauté enuers eux, les mangeants comme bestes. Ce qui a esté fait aussi aux Cannibales, & en quelques autres contrées des Isles occidentales. Iaçoit que ç’a esté plustost par Barbarie, & vn cœur agreste, & cruel, qu’autrement.17 Cruelty and animality recur but now in a framework which deals with the expectations between human beings. They relate therefore to what is both civic and civil behaviour. ‘Barbarie’ in this context means the absence of both those qualities. It is the ‘agreste’ cruelty of the rustic that drives him to act in defiance, but also in ignorance, of the laws of hospitality; the savagery practised by cannibals (‘aux Cannibales’) derives from an unthinking primitive coarseness rather than, for example, deliberate blood-lust (‘autrement’). Other writers agree. Du Plessis Mornay similarly equates ‘cannibale’ with ‘ignorant’ and ‘barbare’,18 and he is not alone: Pierre Davity thought the cannibals showed ‘incapacité des choses celestes’ out of brutality and stupidity and that they first had to be made capable of reason before being instructed in virtue, while Louis Le Caron conjoined the terms ‘barbare, inciuile & desraisonnable’.19 Even from this initial inspection of the evidence, Pouey-Mounou’s argument about the incompatible meanings which epithets accreted seems to be confirmed by the conflicting early modern understandings of the descriptor ‘cannibale’. For some French writers, to be a cannibal and particularly to display cannibal cruelty is not to be human in a recognizable sense. Antoine le Pippre, an early seventeenth century reader of Montaigne, encapsulates this point when he refers to the ‘desmesurée, & bestiale cruauté, & barbarie inhumaine’ of the cannibals, where cruelty and inhumanity are virtually synonymous.20 Cruelty is thus one of the markers which distinguish the cannibal from the European, the uncivilised from the civilised, the savage from the Christian and the animal from the human.21 For other writers, however, the cannibals display a rustic 6 uncouthness and ignorance and are naturally ‘paganus’ in belief and behaviour because they are ‘agreste’: in both cases, they are rustics. One set of writers thus holds more or less explicitly that there is a human nature and an accompanying standard of conduct which defines Europeans in contradistinction to the inhabitants of the New World. Others take a less restrictive and less censorious view about both the nature and the educability of the same inhabitants; Bouchet, indeed, went so far as to reverse the assumed superiority of the Old World over the New by staging an encounter in his Serees between a European trader and a Brazilian native who tries to make him realize his greed and vanity.22 The disparities in French interpretations of the word ‘cannibale’ thus repeat in another form the debate in 1550-51 between Sepúlveda and Las Casas over the rights, sovereignty and the nature of the New World inhabitants; over proprium and proprietas, therefore.23 And it is noteworthy that the sympathetic accounts of cannibals in Bouchet as well as in Cholières’ first Matinée expressly refer to Las Casas.24 None, however, went as far as Montaigne in challenging the prevalent assumptions of the age, beginning with his scrutiny of the descriptors commonly associated with cannibals. He suspends actual encounter with the Brazilian cannibals until the end of 1.31 in order to interrogate the meaning of terminology such as ‘barbare’ and ‘sauvage’ as applied to them. Yet Montaigne’s initiative has a more than definitional purpose. It serves also to underpin his own history of the cannibals, from Golden Age origins through to modern encounter at Rouen. Moreover, he offers a particular vision of history, one in which the discovery of cannibals is the rediscovery of Classical civilisation. The cannibals’ language sounds like Greek; their love song recalls an Anacreontic ode.25 Displaying valour and motivated solely by virtue, their habits in war are similar to Homer’s depictions of combat in the Iliad. In this re-description of heroic proprium and proprietas, the Brazilian jungle rather than Renaissance France now seems the true heir of Ancient Greece. This is a Golden Age of nature unknown to Plato and Lycurgus, Montaigne 7 claims, and his choice of these two Greek lawgivers is motivated by the wish to show that the cannibals are themselves governed by particular laws which are not so much man-made as innate. Such laws are also reflected in a social structure which mere savages would not have. Thus, this portrayal of a Golden Age is not mere myth-making, even in the service of a putative history: it is also a picture of the ‘barbare’ as rustic, ‘uncivil’ not in the sense of having no social commerce or organisation but in the sense of having neither the complex accretions and formalities of Western society nor the social disaggregation of the truly barbaric. In a now famous description, the essayist extols Brazilian society in terms that rivals Plato’s Republic: C’est une nation, diroy je à Platon, en laquelle il n’y a aucune espece de trafique; nulle cognoissance de lettres; nulle science de nombres; nul nom de magistrat, ny de superiorité politique; nul usage de service, de richesse ou de pauvreté; nuls contrats; nulles successions; nuls partages; nulles occupations qu’oysives; nul respect de parenté que commun; nuls vestemens; nulle agriculture; nul metal; nul usage de vin ou de bled.26 The very phraseology of this initial characterisation of the natives, with its insistent anaphoric ‘nul(le)’, seems to echo Las Casas’s similar picture of them, with its repetition of ‘sans’: ‘sans finesse, ou cautelle, sans malice ... sans noises, & remuemens, sans querelles, sans estrifs, sans rancune, ou haine’.27 And anthropophagy, when it is finally described by Montaigne later in the chapter, comes without overtones of cruelty: as one of the essential markers of distinction between the civilised European and the uncivilised non-European, cruelty is the very criterion whose application to the Brazilians the essayist vigorously resists and indeed reverses, claiming that there is more barbarity in eating a man alive than in eating him dead.28 Anthropophagy is even defended by adducing the opinions of the Stoic philosophers, Chrysippus and Zeno (more Greeks, we notice), to the effect that there is no harm done in using the dead as a source of sustenance. So in the first instance, Montaigne’s creation of an aetiological narrative 8 underpinning a cultural, literary and linguistic lineage functions as an alternative to current French stereotypes about cannibals. Yet as Montaigne was very much aware, ‘cannibale’ was not confined to debates about the social or ontological nature of the native inhabitants of Brazil. The term enjoyed wider currency in his time. It had, for instance, very quickly become a staple in the anti Spanish repertoire. Thevet’s Nacol-Absou is described as seeking to out-Spanish the Spanish by his behaviour. ‘Vn Espagnol ... nous doit estre plus hayssable qu’vn Lestrigon, qu’vn Mammelu, qu’vn Cannibale,’ declared Le Guay in the early seventeenth century, in a string of linked imprecations often found as a collocation elsewhere,29 while Bouchet exclaimed, ‘l’Espagnol par son extreme auarice, desloyauté, & cruauté, a laissé à la posterité le nom Chrestien odieux à tous les peuples de ce nouueau monde’.30 A few years earlier, Jean Crespin exclaimed about the Spanish Inquisition, ‘O mon Dieu, y auoit-il faute au monde de Scithes, ou Tartares, ou de Cannibales encore plus cruels...?’.31 ‘Cannibale’ could also be used in anti English polemic, as we saw earlier with Blackwood, or it could simply be part of a more extensive vocabulary of invective, as in the following early seventeenth-century example by Pierre de Besse: ‘ames felonnes, cœurs sanguinaires, volontez barbaresques, serez-vous touiours rebelles ... à Dieu, au Roi, à la iustice? Anthropophages, Cannibales, Gelons, hommes sans humanité, Chrestiens sans foy, sans pitié, sans crainte, sans religion!’32 There is nothing in this outburst to indicate the object of Besse’s ire – duellists and duelling. Du Bartas has a similar accumulation of insults: the butt of his attack on one particular occasion is a ‘Cannibale felon’, a ‘Cyclope inexorable’, a ‘Busire’, a ‘Lestrigon’, all four examples here being man-eaters, although there is nothing literally man eating about his object of criticism, a Roman who throws his slave to a lion.33 However, there were two intertwined contemporary areas in which ‘cannibale’ came to hold special force and emotive power in the French Renaissance: religion and politics. In Une 9 Sainte Horreur ou le voyage en Eucharistie, Frank Lestringant analyses the Eucharistic debates that raged in Reformation Europe and the accusations of the cannibalism of the Mass which Reformers directed at Catholics; as Lestringant amply shows, these debates were re-played during the French attempt at the colonisation of Brazil.34 Yet the term ‘cannibale’ also had currency in respect of France itself during the Wars of Religion. Naturally enough, it refers in the first instance to (rare) actual acts of cannibalism such as the one Léry reports during the siege of Sancerre in 1572-73, in which a child is eaten by its parents. Describing this act as ‘cruauté barbare & plusque bestiale’ and as a ‘crime prodigieux, barbare, & inhumain’,35 Léry comments: ‘[...] combien que i’aye demeuré dix mois parmi les Sauuages Ameriquains en la terre du Bresil, leur ayant veu souuent manger de la chair humaine [...] si n’en ay-ie iamais eu telle terreur que i’eu frayeur de voir ce piteux spectacle, lequel n’auoit encores (comme ie croy) iamais esté veu en ville assiegee en nostre France’.36 Léry’s horror and terror that such behaviour could happen in France derive in good measure from the fact that the very acts which Protestants condemned in their Catholic opponents were exemplified on this occasion among Huguenots themselves. A more usual Protestant reaction can be found in the Memoires de l’Estat de France of 1576-77, where Goulart collected an anonymous response to Pibrac’s defence of the events of St Bartholomew’s Day containing the following lament over slaughtered Protestants: ‘Les ornemens du barreau, les perles des sieges iudiciaux, l’honneur des Academies, les colomnes des sciences, la gloire des forts & vaillans, la fleur de la vieillesse, la verdeur de la ieunesse, tout cela fut fauché par la fausse faux de ces faussaires, traistres, & desloyaux Cannibales’.37 There is nothing, however, in this passage to link the term ‘Cannibales’ to literal anthropophagic behaviour. On the contrary, the noun here has connotations of treachery, betrayal and disloyalty, in a connection which we find again in Pierre de l’Ostal’s Le Soldat François and elsewhere.38 In this instance, Catholic treachery and disloyalty are distinctively emphasised by parachesis (the same sound in words in quick succession), but it is not till near the end of the sentence that we find ‘faussaires’, which encapsulates ‘fauché’, ‘fausse’ and ‘faux’. Very shortly afterwards, another idea is added: church 10 bells rang out in Paris ‘pour conuier les bestes farouches à manger les hommes’, who are treated like animals by ‘nos chaircuitiers’.39 The central idea here seems to be that of butchery and massacre, and the mutilation and in some cases dismemberment of dead bodies, all of which recalls cannibal behaviour for Goulart, but takes ‘manger’ in a broader sense than the literal (so ‘lay waste’ rather than ‘eat’). Yet there is a further possible layer of meaning in this passage: butchers (‘chaircuitiers’) were forbidden to serve as jurors in life and death legal cases, as their attitude towards animals might transfer to human beings: justice requires humanity.40 ‘Nos chaircuitiers’ demonstrate neither justice nor humanity. This extended implication of the term ‘manger’ is similar to the Homeric-derived notion of the unjust, tyrannical king as a ‘mange- peuples’ who delights in carnage and revels in blood, an accusation Antoine Arnaud later threw at Philip II of Spain, along with the insults ‘mal-heureux Cannibale’ and ‘Polypheme abominable’.41 A related use of ‘cannibale’, extending ideas of brutality and savagery, is as a general descriptor of moral behaviour or attitude at a time of civil conflict. It is particularly active in the religious sphere, as Montaigne himself underscores when commenting in 1.31 on barbaric actions undertaken in the name of piety and religion. In the same way, the nameless Protestant murderer of Simon Sicot, vicar of St Hilaire des Moustiers near Angoulême, in the 1580s, is simply labelled ‘Cannibale’ and ‘barbare’; the epithets have become his identity.42 The Ligueur soldier who sacrilegiously tramples the Eucharistic host underfoot at Arquenay in 1589 is no less a ‘cruel Canibale’; he otherwise remains anonymous.43 Other writers were alarmed about what such behaviour betokened about broader trends and developments. By the turn of the seventeenth century, for instance, the historian Pierre Matthieu thought that the bloody civil war had turned the Most Christian kingdom of France into a republic of atheists, and sweetly tractable Frenchmen into Scythians and cannibals.44 Complaining in a similar vein a few years later, François de Rosset wrote: ‘Ce siecle ne produit que trop de ces monstres abominables, 11 indignes de porter non seulement le nom de Chrestiens, mais encore de conuerser parmy les Canibales, & parmy les Tigres & les Ours, puis qu’on n’y prattique point ces execrables meschancetez’.45 The disordered brutality of the wars of religion had, for some, erased or at the very least threatened to erase the conceptual distinction between Christian and cannibal and indeed, in practice, had even far too often converted the former into the latter. Similar changes dangerously blurred the dividing line between man and beast or, again, between rational and passionate action, to the consternation of contemporary commentators. The behaviour that they so roundly condemned in New World cannibals was just as true, or even truer, of their fellow countrymen. This sense that cannibals could be found plentifully at home as well as abroad and that water tight compartments of behaviour were not as well sealed as the French blithely assumed proved an enduring source of dismay, if not scandal; taken-for-granted, clear-cut oppositions became uncomfortably unstable. Such mighty upheavals also have a potent effect on our understanding of ‘Des cannibales’. Our gradual realisation is that the very title of the chapter points in more than one direction. Montaigne’s immediate initial plunge into a defence of Brazilian cannibals at the start of 1.31 leads us to assume that the title of his essay refers solely to the New World; the cannibals of the title are those discovered by Villegagnon and recorded by Thevet and Léry. Yet this expectation is overturned in the course of the chapter. If the first stage of Montaigne’s strategy is to depict the cannibals as being utterly different from Thevet’s Nacol-Absou, the second stage is to pick up the resonances and applications of ‘cannibale’ with which his contemporaries would have been familiar from the literature of the Wars of Religion. Indeed, one could argue that chapter 1.31 as a whole replays the disorientating loss of signifying values, the changes in established patterns of behaviour and the labels by which they were designated, that had become a rooted part of the experience of civil strife in the years following the outbreak of hostilities in the early 1560s. ‘Des cannibales’ illustrates that situation by paying close attention to the 12 linguistic and rhetorical forms which it uses and out of which it is itself made. Take, for instance, Montaigne’s indictment of French cannibal practices during the Wars of Religion. The passage, just over half way through the chapter, begins with an account of the Brazilians’ ritual slaughter and eating of a captive. The essayist then comments: Je ne suis pas marry que nous remerquons l’horreur barbaresque qu’il y a en une telle action, mais ouy bien dequoy, jugeans bien de leurs fautes, nous soyons si aveuglez aux nostres. Je pense qu’il y a plus de barbarie à manger un homme vivant qu’à le manger mort, à deschirer, par tourmens et par geénes, un corps encore plein de sentiment, le faire rostir par le menu, le faire mordre et meurtrir aux chiens et aux pourceaux (comme nous l’avons, non seulement leu, mais veu de fresche memoire, non entre des ennemis anciens, mais entre des voisins et concitoyens, et, qui pis est, sous pretexte de pieté et de religion), que de le rostir et manger apres qu’il est trespassé.46 These words not only enable us to perceive the title of the chapter in a different light, but also re-activate those threads of meaning equally lying back towards the beginning of 1.31. There is now a counter-flow of momentum in virtue of which we can now see, with hindsight, the relevance of particular early details. The retrospective light that is shed on the title of the chapter is one example of this. Another is to be found in the famous early description of New World society, where the phrase ‘Les paroles mesmes qui signifient le mensonge, la trahison, la dissimulation ... inouies’47 seems, in its immediate context, to reinforce the idea of the Brazilians’ rustic innocence and ignorance, echoing perhaps Las Casas, but with a backward glance it also specifically counters just those associations of treason and disloyalty for which, as we have seen, the civil wars used ‘cannibal’ as a metaphor, and instead imputes such behaviour to ‘us’, the French. As if to underline the importance of this point, Montaigne even re-states it during his indictment: ‘il ne se trouva jamais aucune opinion si desreglée qui excusat la trahison, la 13 desloyauté, la tyrannie, la cruauté, qui sont nos fautes ordinaires’.48 Treason, disloyalty, cruelty: all words for which ‘cannibale’, in the sense of Brazilian native, was, in Montaigne’s view, the radically inappropriate synonym. A further instance comes in his description of the purpose of the anthropophagy: ‘[c]e n’est pas, comme on pense, pour s’en nourrir, ainsi que faisoient anciennement les Scythes: c’est pour representer une extreme vengeance’,49 where ‘comme on pense’ signals the revision of a standard misconception, marked further by the distinction drawn here between Brazilians and Scythians. For many of Montaigne’s contemporaries, the Brazilian cannibal was just the modern version of the classical Scythian. The essayist demurs and puts asunder here what common usage joined. And in the same way that his indictment can point backwards, it can also point forwards, to the culmination of the civil war subtext which comes in the closing scene of the interview with the Brazilians. For ‘Des cannibales’ concludes its series of reversals by a mise en scène in which actual cannibals comment on instances of ‘cannibal’ behaviour in France – weak kingship, distortion of the ‘natural order’ so that a child monarch now commands grown men, injustice towards fellow humans by a social elite who are never named as ‘mange-peuples’, although that is perhaps implied. While this closing episode has been heavily analysed, it is George Hoffmann and Frank Lestringant who come closest to seeing in it the mesh of contemporary reference.50 ‘Nous sommes donc leurs sauvages,’ Certeau comments succinctly about this final scene.51 Yet his remark, while potent, is too brief: it takes a real, live cannibal to see, and to say, that the values which France supported have been corrupted by the institutions on which it relied. Let me summarize my argument up to this point. My contention is that there are two strands developed in parallel in ‘Des cannibales’. The first is a story of cannibals and classical antiquity which valorises the Brazilians in some of the most prestigious cultural and intellectual terms available in the Renaissance, seeing them as exemplary of the values which antiquity represented. This is a story which ties together ethnography, history, literature and language. 14 The second strand is ethical. In this second account, consideration of cannibals is used by Montaigne to pass comment on particular aspects of the wars of religion, and the Brazilians themselves, at the close of the chapter, confirm the worst fears of Renaissance commentators concerning contemporary society. Neither of these strands is developed in strict sequence in 1.31; the treatment is partly continuous and partly episodic. Nonetheless, both strands have their own thematic and linguistic coherence; both seek to contest early modern French assumptions about the nature of cannibals and to revise commonly held ideas about the proprium and proprietas as applied to cannibals and cannibal behaviour. And both strands carry out this task in the first instance by revising descriptors such as ‘barbare’ and ‘sauvage’ before converging and blending in the closing episode of Montaigne’s interviews with the Brazilians themselves at Rouen. What evidence is there, though, that the change in the descriptor which Montaigne wishes to bring about had any influence on contemporary opinion? As it happens, there is rather a substantial amount of evidence that some of the essayist’s coevals and successors had read and understood the point of 1.31. Among the various reactions, which pick up different features of the chapter, I shall concentrate on those which focus on the finale, betokening an abiding interest in questions of kingship and equality. The first to be considered is that of one of the most prominent of Montaigne’s readers, Justus Lipsius, whose relations with the essayist have been examined by Michel Magnien in particular.52 Magnien does not, however, notice a quotation from ‘Des cannibales’ contained in Monita et exempla politica. Lipsius is discussing whether succession or election is the better form of government. After quoting a sentence from Seneca’s 90th letter to Lucilius, ‘Naturæ enim est deteriora potioribus submittere’ (It is characteristic of Nature to subject the worse to the better), he continues in this way: Itaque Brasilienses quidem, cum ad Carolum IX. Galliæ regem Rothomagum deducti venissent, valde mirabantur, Quomodo validi illi & proceri viri (Helueticos intelligebant) 15 parerent paruo & tenello regi. Nimirum pro more suo, & sensu, iudicantes: satis læue, quasi à sola corporis magnitudine præstantia esset.53 [And so some Brazilians when brought before Charles IX, king of France, at Rouen, marvelled greatly, How these strong, tall men (meaning the Swiss Guard) obeyed a little king of tender years. Obviously judging according to their custom and understanding: rather clumsily, as if pre-eminence derived from bodily size alone.] This is one of the most self-evident quotations from Montaigne in Lipsius, but it serves a quite different function from its role in chapter 1.31. It is in fact conditioned by the Senecan context of the preceding quotation, in which the rule of the best is said to be the original law of nature. Since monarchy is best, the Brazilians, for Lipsius, misunderstand the relationship between the Swiss Guard and the boy king, failing to see that superiority cannot be derived from mere physical size. Lipsius’s Brazilians have a limited grasp of the importance of royal succession; Montaigne’s Brazilians have an intuitive grasp of the inadequacy of the political situation in France. What had seemed a potent political comment under Charles IX can now be described as clumsy under Henri IV. The twenty-five years separating the first publication of the cannibal’s comments in the Essais of 1580 and the first publication of Lipsius’s work in 1605 have witnessed a sea change in the political fortunes of the French crown and thus in the attitude that the cannibals could inspire. Other readers could use the cannibals for more edifying ends. Among them is a younger contemporary of Montaigne, Adrien II de Boufflers, seigneur de Boufflers (d. 1622). He is not the only reader of the Essais in the Boufflers family to have engaged closely with Montaigne’s text: we have knowledge of a kinsman, perhaps a cousin, Jérôme de Boufflers, whose heavily annotated copy of the 1588 Essais, with an autobiographical statement dated 1598, was sold by 16 Christie’s in December 2012.54 Here, then, we have a pair of early readers who are also members of the same family. Adrien’s personal contribution to the story of cannibals is contained in his work Le Chois de plusieurs histoires et autres choses memorables published in 1608. His chapter entitled ‘D’aucuns Canibales’ is an extensive re-working of the whole interview scene from 1.31 in which the cannibals now express admiration to Charles IX about the city of Rouen, but enter a reservation nonetheless, first in general terms: ‘ils recognoissoient vn tres-grand deffaut aux hommes sur ce que le monde estant commun à toutes creatures humaines, elles deuroyent par droict, & raison se ressentir toutes des fruicts & aduantages qu’il produict.’55 Here the cannibals have become the representatives of reason and the natural law, but their opening comments are a prelude to more specific criticisms which pursue that ethical line. They highlight in particular the ‘disparité’ and ‘inegalité’ between the rich with their expensive clothes, servants and magnificent houses and the abject misery of the poor, dressed in little more than rags, enduring the afflictions of heat and cold in a life on the streets and crying out for pity. The cannibals are astounded, as they also are in Montaigne, that the poor do not attack the rich, ‘lesquels endormis par les opulences & plaisirs, n’estoient touchez de leur indigence, bien qu’à toutes heures & moments ils entendissent aux portes leurs pitoyables accens.’56 The Brazilians are now moral philosophers or even theologians and if one thinks one hears in their words echoes of the Biblical parable of Dives and Lazarus, this is no mistake, as Boufflers’ gloss on their comments will discretely show. For this intensification both of the cannibals’ role and their observations is matched by the specificity of his response: Certainement ce nous est vne grande vergogne, que ces gens agrestes despourueus de ciuilité, & qui n’ont autre cognoissance de la raison, sinon ce qu’ils peuuent apprendre de leur naturelle propension: Neantmoins ils font leçon à nous autres Chrestiens, encores que soyons esclairez de la lumiere Euangelique, & instruicts des saincts Docteurs qui 17 entre autre doctrine nous enseignent la charité & à mettre en pratique les œuures de misericorde enuers nostre prochain [...].57 The remainder of the passage (and also of the chapter) continues in the same theological vein. All have a common earthly father in Adam; Christ died to redeem all; if we call God our heavenly Father, then we are all brothers and the rich should treat the poor well in the hope that by doing so they may avoid the shame of being reproached by infidels (i.e. the cannibals) and so that by a good life they may win back into the Catholic fold those who have strayed from it. With his pointed description of the cannibals as ‘gens agrestes’, Boufflers offers one of the most thoughtful and sustained reflections on the consequences of their words, which are ascribed to the innate natural reason of rustics ‘despourueus de ciuilité’. He provides evidence of the abiding early modern concern to preserve the distinction between civilisation and cruelty as well as proof of the breaches of that distinction which made it difficult to apply in practice or at the very least rendered the distinction troubled and muddy. It is notable that the cannibals’ observation about the Swiss Guard is omitted here, although the point about the number of men the cannibal chief commands occurs in another chapter in Le Chois de plusieurs histoires.58 Other writers, meanwhile, concentrate on the political implications of Montaigne’s encounter with the Brazilian. One of his most assiduous and enthusiastic early modern German readers, the jurist Christoph Besold, recounts the first two points – about the Swiss Guard and the discrepancy between rich and poor – in order to stress how human weakness made some men prefer the rule of many, even though, in his opinion, the rule of one prince was best.59 In The Anatomy of Melancholy, Robert Burton recalled that ‘Montaigne, in his Essayes, speaks of certain Indians in France, that being asked how they liked the countrey, wondered how a few rich men could keep so many poore men in subjection, that they did not cut their throats’.60 Towards the end of the seventeenth century, book 3 of 18 Pufendorf’s De Jure naturae et gentium of 1672 remembered the same passage, among very many from Montaigne in that work: Multo minus autem probari potest effatum illius Americani ex nova Francia temporibus Caroli IX. qui interrogatus, quid sibi singulare imprimis in Gallia videretur, inter alia & hoc dixit: quod, cum alii in omnium rerum abundantia sint constituti, alii contra cum summa inopia conflictati ostiatim stipem quaerant, hi non istos invaderent, & bona iisdem eriperent.61 [Much less can approval be given to the assertion of that American from New France in the time of Charles IX who when asked what he thought especially unusual in France, said this, among other things: that, seeing that some people enjoyed an abundance of goods and others by contrast, under crushing need, went begging alms from door to door, the latter did not attack the former and take their property from them.] Pufendorf thought this an exceedingly bad suggestion in that it introduced the dimension of envy into the social bond and threatened to overturn what he termed the equality of right, that is the obligation to the social life which equally binds all humans and which imposes on all parties a respect for the social standing of each. Civic life, in other words, is not and cannot be synonymous for Pufendorf with what the cannibals judge to be the law of nature. Much later on, in book 8 of De Jure, Pufendorf adduces the passage about the Swiss Guard, with whose sentiments again he disagrees, on the grounds that the capacity to rule cannot be equated merely with size or strength – thus independently coming to the same view as Lipsius.62 Even though Pufendorf takes issue with Montaigne’s cannibals on both occasions, he nonetheless bears witness to the longevity of the debate they provoked. 19 In conclusion, it would be inaccurate to deny that ‘cannibale’ continues to hold its popular associations of cruelty, barbarity and savagery in early modern France, particularly in polemic and invective. However, an embedded reading, as I call it, also reveals that what alter or are at least strongly questioned as a result of Montaigne’s intervention are attitudes towards cruelty; issues of natural law, justice and equality; the shape and nature of kingship; and the relative status of Christians and cannibals. What was proper – characteristic of and appropriate to – Christian behaviour proved a notably long-lived feature of the debate, skewing the assumed congruence between identity and ethos, where identity is synonymous, in this respect, with the faith-orientations of France, whether Catholic or Protestant. For it was precisely the associative power of the term ‘cannibale’ that proved most explosive. Debate raged not only about the attributes of cannibalism, but also about who could be described as cannibalistic; who could be properly subsumed under this term and how also, most dangerously, it could contaminate the very distinctions that produced it. In respect of its Eurocentric assumptions of civilisation, reason and religion, ‘le propre de l’homme’ could never to be quite the same again. Word count (including Abstract): 7515 1 On this problem in Montaigne, see André Tournon, ‘Tout dire ou tout indiquer’, RHLF , 88 (1988), pp. 923-33. 2 For the wider background here, see in general Cǎtǎlin Arramescu, An Intellectual History of Cannabalism, translated by Alistair Ian Blyth (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2009) and in particular Frank Lestringant, Le Cannibale. Grandeur et décadence (Paris: Perrin, 1994); Une Sainte Horreur, ou le voyage en Eucharistie , XVIe-XVIIe siècles (Paris: PUF, 1996); Le Huguenot et le sauvage. L’Amérique et la controverse coloniale, en France, au temps des guerres de religion, 3rd edition (Geneva: Droz, 2004). 3 Les Essais de Michel de Montaigne, edited by Pierre Villey and V.-L. Saulnier (Paris: PUF, 1965), p. 202. 4 Richard Scholar, ‘Introduction’ in Renaissance Keywords , edited by Ita Mac Carthy (Oxford: Legenda, 2013), p. 2. 5 Neil Kenny, The Uses of Curiosity in Early Modern France and Germany (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2004), p. 10. 6 Ibid. 7 See her Panurge comme pois en lard. Paradoxe, scandale et propriété dans le ‘Tiers Livre’ (Geneva: Droz, 2013). For another approach, not concentrating on the role of descriptors, see Montaigne et la question de l’homme, edited by Marie-Luce Demonet (Paris: PUF, 1999). 8 Maurice de la Porte, Les Epithetes (Paris: Nicolas Buon, 1571), f. 45v. 9 Henri Estienne, Prémices ([Geneva: Henri Estienne], 1593), p. 148. 10 Adam Blackwood, Martyre de la Royne d’Escosse (Edinburgh: Jean Nafeild, 1587), p. 435. 11 André Thevet, Les Vrais Pourtraicts et vies des hommes illustres grecz, latins et payens (Paris: Veuve Kerver and Guillaume Chaudiere, 1584), II, f. 650v. 12 Thevet, II, f. 651r. 20 13 Thevet, II, f. 651r. Cf. Lestringant, Une Sainte Horreur, p. 63: ‘D’emblée, le cannibalisme est donc perçu comme signe d’un dérèglement de l’ordre universel, dont l’homme pécheur est responsable’. 14 Peter Martyr, De rebus oceanis & orbe nouo decades tres (Basle: Bebel, 1533), ff. 19D, 24B, 26B, 33C, 49B, 53C, 65D. 15 Rabelais, Gargantua, in Œuvres complètes, edited by Mireille Huchon with François Moureau, ‘Bibliothèque de la Pléiade’ (Paris: Gallimard, 1994), p. 29. 16 Guillaume Bouchet, Les Serees (Paris: Adrian Perier, 1598), bk 3, f. 316r. 17 François de Rosières, Six Livres des politiques, contenants l’origine et estat des cités (Reims: Jean de Foigny, 1574), f. 75v. 18 Philippe Du Plessis Mornay, De la verité de la religion chrestienne (Antwerp: Christofle Plantin, 1581), p. 369. 19 Pierre Davity, Les Estats, empires et principautez du monde (Paris: Pierre Chevalier, 1616), p. 318; Louis Le Caron, Pandectes ou digestes du droit françois (Lyon: Jean Veyrat, 1593), p. 394. 20 Antoine Le Pippre, Intentions morales, civiles et militaires (Antwerp: Pierre and Jean Bellere, 1625), p. 733. 21 On the distinctions between human and animal, see Erica Fudge, Perceiving Animals. Humans and Beasts in Early Modern English Culture (Urbana-Champaign: University of Illinois Press, 2002). 22 Bouchet, f. 315r-v. 23 See Anthony Pagden, Peoples and Empires: Europeans and the Rest of the World, from Antiquity to the Present (London: Phoenix Press, 2001), pp. 77-79 and Spanish Imperialism and the Political Imagination (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1990), pp. 13-36 (pp. 32-33 for Las Casas). 24 Bouchet, f. 316v; Nicolas de Cholières, Les Neuf Matinees (Paris: Jean Richer, 1585), p. 5. 25 Montaigne, p. 213. 26 Montaigne, p. 206. 27 Batholomé de Las Casas, Tyrannies et cruautez des Espagnols, translated by Jacques de Miggrode (Antwerp: François Ravelenghien, 1579), pp. 7-8. 28 Montaigne, p. 209. 29 Guillaume le Guay, Alliances du Roy avec le Turc, et autres (Paris: Toussaint du Bray, 1626), p. 215; for the collocation, see Louis Richeome, Tres-humble Remonstrance et requeste des religieux de la Compagnie de Iesus (Douay: Baltasar Bellere, 1599), p. 25 and François Bonald, Réponse apologétique à l’Anti-Caton et à ceux de sa suite (Au Pont: Par l’imprimeur de l’Université, 1610), p. 300. 30 Bouchet, f. 317r. 31 Jean Crespin and Simon Goulart, Histoire des martyrs (s.l, s.n., 1608), f. 484v. 32 Pierre de Besse, Premieres Conceptions theologiques sur le Caresme (Paris: Nicolas du Fossé, 1606), p. 82. 33 Guillaume Salluste du Bartas, Œuvres (Paris: Jean de Bordeaux, 1611), p. 275 and nn. 60-63. 34 Lestringant, Une Sainte Horreur, esp. pp. 61-82. 35 Jean de Léry, Histoire memorable de la ville de Sancerre (s.l., s.n., 1574), pp. 149 and 146 respectively. The incident was also reported in Florimond de Raemond, L’Anti-Christ (Lyon: Jean Pillehotte, 1597), p. 96. 36 Léry, p. 147. 37 [Simon Goulart,] Memoires de l’estat de France sous Charles IX, 2nd edition (Meidelbourg: Henry Wolf, 1578), I, f. 630v. 38 Pierre de l’Ostal, Le Soldat François (s.l., s.n., 1604), p. 50. 39 [Goulart], I, f. 631r. 40 Fudge, p. 132. This interpretation was suggested by one of the anonymous FMLS readers. 41 Antoine Arnauld, La Premiere Philippique, à la France (Lyon: Claude Morillon, 1594), p. 30. 42 Claude Caron, L’Antechrist demasqué (Tournon: Guillaume Linocier, 1589), p. 194. The scene of Sicot’s torture is pictured and described in Le Théâtre des cruautés de Richard Verstegen (1587), edited by Frank Lestringant (Paris: Editions Chandeigne, 1995), pp. 95-96. 43 Anon., Le Politique François, (s.l., s.n., 1605), p. 97. The same incident is related, though without the epithet ‘Cannibale’, in Jean de Montlyard’s continuation of Jean de Serres’ Inventaire general de l’histoire de la France (Paris: s.n, 1600), III, pp. 1739-40 and also in De Serres’ Recueil des choses memorables auenues en France, 2nd edition (s.l., s.n., 1598), p. 695. 44 Pierre Matthieu, Histoire des derniers troubles de France, 2nd edition (s.l., s.n., 1600), f. 95v. 45 François de Rosset, Les Histoires memorables (Paris: Pierre Chevalier, 1619), p. 609. 46 Montaigne, p. 209. 47 Montaigne, p. 206. 48 Montaigne, p. 210. 49 Montaigne, p. 209. 50 Lestringant, Le Huguenot et le sauvage, chap. 4, ‘Le Brésil de Montaigne: Le chapitre “Des cannibales” (1580)’, pp. 205-26; George Hoffmann, ‘Anatomy of the Mass: Montaigne’s “Of Cannibals”’, PMLA 117/2 (2002), pp. 207-21. 51 Michel de Certeau, ‘Le Lieu de l’autre. Montaigne, “Des cannibales”’, Œuvres et critiques, 8, 1-2 (1983), pp. 59-72 (p. 69). 52 Michel Magnien, ‘Montaigne et Juste Lipse: Une double méprise?’ in Juste Lipse (1547-1606) en son temps, edited by Christian Mouchel (Paris: Champion, 1996), pp. 423-52. 21 53 Justus Lipsius, Monita et exempla politica (Paris: Pierre Chevalier, 1605), f. 62v. 54 Christie’s, Paris, sale 3534, 12-13 December 2012, lot 91: http://www.christies.com/lotfinder/books- manuscripts/montaigne-michel-de-5631903-details.aspx?intobjectid=5631903 consulted 27 July 2015. 55 Adrien de Boufflers, Le Chois de plusieurs histoires & autres choses memorables (Paris: Pierre Mettayer, 1608), pp. 900- 901. 56 Boufflers, p. 901. 57 Ibid. 58 Boufflers, p. 423. 59 Christoph Besold, Principium et finis politicae doctrinae (Strasbourg: Heirs of Zetzner, 1625), pp. 225-26. 60 Robert Burton, The Anatomy of Melancholy (Oxford, printed for Henry Cripps, 1638 [first edition: 1621]), Part 1, section 2, p. 158. 61 Samuel von Pufendorf, De Jure naturae et gentium libri octo, 2nd edition (Frankfurt: Friderich Knoch, 1684 [first edition: 1672]), p. 342. 62 Pufendorf, p. 1226. http://www.christies.com/lotfinder/books-manuscripts/montaigne-michel-de-5631903-details.aspx?intobjectid=5631903 http://www.christies.com/lotfinder/books-manuscripts/montaigne-michel-de-5631903-details.aspx?intobjectid=5631903 
work_5nndc5rlw5esvnhbb2ytotmpku	----	PII: 0315-0860(76)90008-2 HISlWRIA MATHEMATICA 3 (1976), 63-70 ORONCE FINE'S DE SPECULO USTORIO: A HERETOFORE IGNORED EARLY FRENCH RENAISSANCE PRINTED TREATISE ON MATHEMATICAL OPTICS BY RICHARD P, ROSS, JERUSALEM SUMfiURIES This paper describes the contents and sources of De Speculo Ustorio Liber Unicus (1st printing Paris, 1551), and the role of this and other works of Oronce Fine (1494-1555) in the revival of the mathematical arts in Renaissance France. In hoc opusculo quae scripsevit in de speculo ustorio libro unico (editio princeps Lutetiae, 1551) Orontius Fineus (1494-1555) et quibus fontibus usus sit explicavi. Praeterea quales partes hit liber et alia Finei opera eberint in mathematicis artibus renovandis in Gallia saeculo renacentiae demonstravi. ‘Iv i7niilpn nNi 0~3~3yi1 l3in DN 7Nnn 3~ inNn n31W~l ai17iltI) De Speculo Ustorio Liber Unicus (1555-1494) Orontius Finaeus rlNll (1551 ,T’-l!lI wi-r7n5 in-riw III' hi ~IT;I -vm~ 'Iv inni7n nN oai .D~DI~ nmy3. 0’7unnnil nTy7na Only recently has Oronce Fine (1494-1555) received atten- tion for his role in early French Renaissance mathematics. [II One of Fine's works that has yet to be considered is De Speculo Ustorio Liber Unicus, first printed at Paris in Latin in 1551 and reprinted at Venice in an Italian translation in 1587 and 1670 [2] I have been unable to find any reference, other than biblio- graphical, to this work in the standard sources on the history of mathematical optics [e.g., Kaestner 1797; Ronchi 19701.. From one viewpoint this is understandable, since De Speculo Ustorio made no advances in the science of mathematical optics. From an historical viewpoint, however, it is unfortunate, because this and other work by Fine made a significant contribution to the revival of the mathematical arts in early Renaissance France. CORE Metadata, citation and similar papers at core.ac.uk Provided by Elsevier - Publisher Connector https://core.ac.uk/display/82055828?utm_source=pdf&utm_medium=banner&utm_campaign=pdf-decoration-v1 64 Richard P. Ross HM3 In the present study, Part I summarizes the contents of De Speculo Ustorio, Part II discusses its sources, and Part III is an appreciation of this and Fine’s other efforts for the rebirth of French mathematics. I. CONTENTS In a preface to the work proper, Fine makes a number of general observations on the nature and value of burning mirrors and touches briefly on two earlier works on this subject (see Part II below). Fine ends his preface by stating that the two objects of his treatise are the mathematical demonstration of the superiority of the parabolic burning mirror to all others and the description of various methods for actually fabricating such a mirror. It is his boast that in regard to the latter object his own work surpasses that of Witelo. The work proper is for the most part in the form of a math- ematical argument. It begins with twelve definitions on the parts of the right cone and the associated parabolic curve. It next presents four postulates on catoptrics relating to burning mirrors whose purpose is to justify the geometrical treatment of catop- tri cal phenomena. These are: (Post. I) all solar rays falling on a mirror surface may be treated as straight lines; (Post. II) for any solar ray falling on a flat mirror, the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection; (Post. III) for any solar ray falling on a concave or convex mirror, the angle of incidence equals the angle of reflection, where these angles are defined with respect to the flat mirror tangent to the given concave or convex mirror at the ray’s point of incidence; (Post. IV) it is possible to generate a fire at that point alone at which solar rays, having been reflected from a mirror surface, fall. There follows a series of geometric propositions, proven rigourously with Euclid’s Elements serving as the authoritative reference, and culminating in Proposition VII: the angle formed at a given point on the parabolic curve by the tangent to and in the plane of this curve at this point and by a straight line paral lel to the curve’s axis (Fine terms this axis the sagittal equals the angle formed by the tangent and by a straight line drawn from the given point to tha axis’ midpoint (Fine does not assign any term to the axis’ midpoint, which is generally called the focus). Corollary I to Proposition VII states that the same result will hold also for a parabolic surface produced by revolving the para- bolic curve about its sagitta. Corollary II asserts that a burn- ing mirror in the shape of a parabolic surfact directly facing the sun will therefore reflect all solar rays to exactly one point. This is the case, Fine explains, because the sun is so much larger than the earth and so far removed from it that the solar rays falling directly on a mirror may be treated as straight lines all of which are parallel to the mirror’s sagitta. The IM 3 Fine’s Treatise on Optics 65 authority cited in support of these assertions is Alphraganus, according to whom, Fine informs us, the sun is 166 times larger than the earth and at a distance from it equal to 1070 terrestrial radii. But, Fine continues, by Postulate III the angle of inci- dence of these rays equals their angle of reflection, so that, by Corollary I of Postulate VII, all such incoming rays will fall on one point, namely the midpoint of the sagitta. Fine concludes this line of argument in Corollary III, which states that the para- bolic mirror is therefore the best possible. Proposition VIII sets forth various methods for drawing a parabolic line, The most interesting method from the viewpoint of the mathematician (but not an original one -- see Part II) is based on Proposition IV, in which it was proven that any straight line perpendicularly intersecting the sagitta of a parabolic curve and bounded by the curve (Fine calls such a line a linea ordinis sagittae) is the mean between the sagitta itself and the distance from the point of intersection to the parabola’s vertex. But, Fine observes, the straight line perpendicular to the diameter of a semicircle and bounded by the diameter and the semicircular curve is also a mean, in this case between the two lengths into which the perpendicular splits the diameter. Therefore, the fol- lowing procedure may be used to construct an approximation to a parabolic curve of given sagittal length, say 2: extend straight -. line AB through B to a point C so that AC is double m; mark off lengths E?, m,..., -- BZ=BC along BC from B to C; draw semicircles with diameters AX, AY,. . . ,AZ; draw a straight line through B to AC, and mark off the points F, G,. . ., H at which the semicircles with diameters (respectively) AX, AY, . . . , AZ intersect this straight line; the resulting lengths BF, BG,..., ?%, being the means between (respectively) AB and BX, S and By,..., AB and BZ, when doubled will serve therefore as lineae ordinis sagittae of a parabolic curve with sagitta AB when spaced along AB at distances %??, By,. . ., m from A to B. Fine adds that the smaller the intervals BX, BY, . . . . Bz are made, the better the approximation becomes. Proposition IX draws on the results of Proposition VIII in order to present methods for fabricating a parabolic mirror. One way to do this, Fine observes, is to make a cutting instrument whose edge is in the shape of the parabolic curve found by Proposi- tion VIII and then to apply this instrument in a revolving motion to a block of metal so as to hollow out from the block a parabolic surface. This surface may then be polished into a mirror by rubbing it with pulverized stone. Proposition X is not concerned with burning mirrors but with the properties of certain conic sections. It states that. on a conic surface may be described two lines whose mutual distance de- creases as the lines are extended yet which never touch. One of these lines is the straight line produced by intersecting, the right cone with a plane parallel to and including the cone’s axis, while the other is the curved line produced by intersecting the cone with 66 Richard P. Ross HM3 a plane parallel to but not including the cone’s axis. Fine uses neither the term hyperbola to describe the latter, nor the term asymptoticitas to describe its relation to the former. II. SOURCES Among the sources for De Speculo Ustorio the most important, as Fine stated in the work’s preface, is Witelo’s Perspectiva, Book IX, of which Propositions 33-44 were the close models for Fine’s Propositions I-VII and IX. Witelo’s Perspectiva first appeared in print in 1535 at Nuremberg. However, Fine’s familiar- ity with the work clearly predated its first printing, because he referred to it in Book II, Chapter 10, of his De Geometria Libri II, which was written in 1530 and first printed at Paris in 1532. The other source on burning mirrors cited in the preface as an unspecified poorly translated treatise by an anonymous Arab author was very likely De Sectione Conica... Quae Parabola Dicitur, deque Speculo Ustorio Libelli Duo, printed at Louvain in 1548, whose title-page describes it as the work of an anonymous Arab scientist. It is in fact an edited version of Alhazen’s me Speculis Comburentibus. Apollonius’ Conies, also mentioned in the preface and the source for Fine’s Proposition X, was perhaps known to Fine in its first printing at Venice in 1537 in a Latin translation of Books I-IV by Joannes Baptista Memus . Fine probably knew it through other works, however, including Witelo’s Perspectiva, Book I, and also through two works not referred to in me Speculo Ustorio, namely Georgius Valla’s Libri VI de Geometria, printed in 1501 at Venice as part of the same author’s De Expetendis et Fugiendis Rebus Opus, and Johann Werner’s Libellus super 22 Elementis Conicis (Nuremberg , 15 22) . Fine’s familiarity with Valla’s work is attested by the fact that Valla’s treatment of the quadrature of the circle appearing in Libri VI de Geometria was extracted by Fine for inclusion in the appendix to his edition of Reisch’s Margarita Philosophica (1st printing Basel, 1535) . Val la 1 s work not only gave the first printed summary of Books I-III of Apollon- ius’ Conies but also a brief treatment of the principles of optics and catoptrics. There is no mention of Werner’s Libellus in any of Fine’s works, but Fine’s method for drawing a parabolic line set forth in Proposition VII of De Speculo Dstorio is taken direct- ly from Werner’s Libellus, Book IX, where this particular construc- tion appeared for the first time [Coolidge 1945, 26-271. [3] Therefore Fine’s boast in the preface that his own work surpasses that of Witelo’s by offering a method for actually drawing para- bolic lines, thereby making possible the fabrication of a parabolic mirror, becomes rather hollow. III. ROLE It is clear from the above that De Speculo Ustorio was not an original contribution to mathematical optics. It may be said Fine’s Treatise on Optics 67 in its defence that the first half of the sixteenth century was not a creative period in this area of mathematical science [Ronchi 1960, 491. But it is more to the point to observe that De Speculo Dstorio is best understood and evaluated not as a con- tribution to the mathematical arts but to their revival in France. Quadrivial studies were in an extremely backward state at Paris as well as elsewhere in France in the early years of the sixteenth century. [4] A turning point came when Francis I, in furtherance of the efforts of the humanists in behalf of the restoration of the full cycle of the liberal arts, established the Royal College, and, in 1532, appointed Oronce Fine to its chair of mathematics. Fine had already made a reputation for himself as a leader in the revival of French mathematics. Following in the steps of Lefsvre D’Etaples, the outstanding figure in the very earliest phase of the rebirth [5], Fine had brought out editions of standard quadrivial textbooks, for example, Peuerbach’s Theoricae Novae Planetarum (1st printing Paris, 1525), and Sacrobosco’s Mundialis Sphaerae Opusculum (1st printing Paris, 1527). With the appointment to the royal professorship, Fine was able to expand his activities and to give them more authority. His work as editor con- sequently became more substantial. In his years as royal professor he prepared an editio princeps of Roger Bacon’s De Mirabili Potestate Artis et Naturae (= De Philosophorum Lapide Libellus) (1st printing Paris, 1542), and a new edition of Gregor Reisch’s Maragarita Phil- osophica (1st printing Basel, 1535), whose appendix was enriched for students of the mathematical arts by the inclusion of quadri- vial works (e.g., excerpts from Val la's Libri VI de Geometria, Bovillus’ De Quadratura Circuli and Introductio in Scientiam Perspectivam, and Nicolas of Cuss’s De Quadratura Circuli). His finest achievement in this area, however, was his edition of Euclid’s Elements, Books I-VI (1st printing Paris, 1536), with text not only in Latin but also in Greek (drawn from Symon Grynaeus’ editio princeps, published in Base1 in 1533)) to which Fine added proofs and commentary. Fine also composed works of his own in each of the principal divisions of the quadrivial curriculum -- geometry, arithmetic, astronomy, cosmography, and music. These works were read through- out Western Europe into the seventeenth century, going through numerous printings in France, England, Spain, Germany, and Italy, in Latin, French, English, and Italian. They owed their popularity in large measure to the need they met among university students for sound, up-to-date quadrivial textbooks. On this point, the following data are relevant: Fine’s De Sinibus Libri II (1st printing Paris, 1542) was the first trigonometry printed in France; his Epithoma Musicae Instrumentalis ad Omnimodam Hemispherii seu Luthina et Theoreticam et Practicam (Paris, 1530) was the first work printed in France on instrumental music; De Speculo Dstorio was the earliest printed catoptrical treatise, and one of the very first printed optical treatises, in France (see below). Fine’s 68 Richard P. Ross HM3 textbooks owed their popularity in part to the excellence of their execution. Generally speaking, they were written in simple and clear Latin or French, printed in readable type, and made addition- ally useful by many excellent diagrams done by Fine himself, who was distinguished in his time for his work as a book illustrator [Mortimer 1964, passim.]. Finally, Fine's textbooks were praise- worthy for the logic of their arrangement and the rigor of their demonstrations -- in this, his model and guide was Euclid's Elements. Fine was not merely a textbook writer, however. In one area in particular, cartography, he ranked among the outstanding figures of his age, in the estimate not only of his contemporaries but now also of modern historians of science. His contributions to cartography included many fine maps of France and of the world (the latter incorporating the latest information from the overseas explorations of the Portuguese and Spanish, and set apart by their novel projections, e.g., cordiform and double cordiform), and a number of terrestrial and celestial globes. This work influenced activity in cartography throughout Western Europe. John Dee, Elizabethan England's leader in this study until the time of Harriot, traveled to Paris in order to study with Fine, and one of Mercator's early works was a copy of a globe made by Fine. Fine not only encouraged the mathematical arts by means of his many excellent textbooks and by virtue of his reputation as one of Europe's outstanding cartographers, but also by linking his work to one of the principal intellectual movements of the age, humanism. His Greek-Latin edition of Euclid's Elements may be viewed from this perspective. So may his musical treatise Epithoma Musicae Instrumentalis, whose subject matter was the theory and practice of playing the lute, the instrument the French humanists considered the most appropriate for realizing compositions in the antique style [Heartz 1967, l-204; Carpenter 1958, 140-1531. Fine's efforts in behalf of the revival in France of the liberal arts bearing on mathematics did not go unnoticed by leading early French humanists. Dorat, for example, composed a poem in Greek to serve as the dedicatory introduction to the posthumous edition of Fine's De Rebus Mathematicis, hactenus Desideratis (Paris, 1556). Finally, the appointment to the royal professorship made Fine's ties to humanism and to its leadership official. For all these reasons Fine was able to stimulate to a significant degree the revival of interest in the mathematical arts among university students at Paris and throughout France. Contemporary biographers of Fine [Thevet 1584; Mizauld 15561 tell us that his lectures were unusually well attended, not only by students but by foreign and native dignitaries and scholars. We are further told by these biographers that Fine's efforts even extended to remaking his private apartment into an informal center for mathematical studies at which any student, dignitary, scholar, or navigator could talk with Fine or use his library, maps and HM 3 Fine's Treatise on Optics 69 globes, and various scientific instruments. Here it should be mentioned that in addition to his other talents Fine was a skilled instrument-maker. One of his products, a planetary clock (that is, a moving model of the heavens), is extant and on display at the Bibliothsque de Sainte-Genevisve in Paris. The above remarks should help to put Fine's De Speculo Vstorio in proper perspective. The work was unoriginal, not be- cause Fine was incapable of creativity but because it was written with the intention of rounding out the series of quadrivial text- books for university students he had been engaged in composing since his appointment to the royal professorship. Such a work was certainly needed in France at this time. My own researches have uncovered only four treatises on mathematical optics printed in France prior to De Speculo Vstorio. Of these only one was by a Frenchman, Carolus Bovillus' (= Charles de Boulles) Intro- ductio in Scientiam Perspectivam (1st printing Paris, 1503). It has already been mentioned that Fine renewed this work's avail- ability by incorporating it into the appendix of his edition of Reisch's Margarita Philosophica. The other three works were Peckham's Perspectiva (undated, but an incunabulum), Viatoris' De Artificiali Perspectiva (1509), and Alberti's De Re Aedifica- toria (1512). All four of these works were on perspective, thus making Fine's De Speculo Vstorio the first book on catoptrics to be printed in France. NOTES 1. For a bibliography of works on Oronce Fine see Ross 1975, fn. 1. Except for a few additional works referred to in the present paper, that bibliography covers all the aspect of Fine's career touched on by this paper. 2. The title-page to the first printing (Paris, 1551) of De Speculo Vstorio reads as follows: De Speculo Vstor.io, Ignem ad Propositam Distantiam Generante, Liber Vnicus. Ex quo Duarum Linearum semper Approprinquantium, & nunquam Concurrentium Colligitur Demonstratio. Orontio Finaeo Delphinate, Regio Mathematico Authore. Lutetiae, ex officina Michaelis Vascosani, Via Iacobaea, ad Insigne Fontis. M.D.LI. Cum Privilegio. This edition, a quart0 in 50 pages, was published bound with a reprint of another work by Fine, Sphaera Mundi. The title-page to the 1587 Italian translation, printed in Venice, reads: Opere di Orontio Fineo da1 Delfinato divise in cinque parti; arithmetica, geometria, cosmografia, e orivoli, tradotte da Cosimo Bartoli... Et gli specchi tradotti da1 Cavalier Ercole Bottrigaro... Nuovamente poste in lute... Venetia, Press0 Francesco Franceschi Senese, 1587. This Italian translation was reprinted in 1670, with the same title- page as the 1587 printing, by two different publishers, Combi E La Noh and G. G. Hertz, in Venice. The Italian version is 70 Richard P. Ross HM3 identical in content to the original Latin version. In the present paper all references are to the original Latin version. 3. This was not the only time Fine copied Werner without giving credit. Another such instance is given in Nordenskiald [1889, 901. 4. For a bibliography of works on French Renaissance mathematics consult May [1973, 642-6441. 5. The one great exception to the low level of mathematical activity in Renaissance France was Chuquet's Triparty, com- posed in the 1480's. But this work was not printed until the 19th century and had no effect on the course of development of French mathematics. REFERENCES Carpenter, Nan 1958 Music in the Medieval and Renaissance Universities Norman, Oklahoma Coolidge, Julian 1945 A History of the Conic Sections and Quadric Surfaces Oxford Heartz, David 1967 Pierre Attaingnant Royal Printer of Music: A Historical Study and Bibliographical Catalogue Berkeley and Los Angeles Kaestner, Abraham 1879 Geschichte der Mathematik Vol II Gdttingen Reprinted 1970, Hildesheim and New York May, Kenneth 1973 Bibliography and Research Manual of the History of Mathematics Toronto Mizauld, Antoine 1556 Vita et Tumulus Orontii De Rebus Mathematicis, hactenus Desideratis by Oronce Fine Paris Mortimer, Ruth 1964 Harvard College Library French XVIth Century Books 2 vols Cambridge, Mass Noredenskibld, Adolf 1889 Facsimile-Atlas Stockholm Ronchi, Vasco 1960 L'optique au seizieme siscle Collogue internationale de Royaumont, 1957: la science au seizisme si&cle Paris 1970 Nature of Light: An Historical Survey 3rd ed London Ross, Richard 1975 Oronce Fine's De Sinibus Libri II: The first printed trigonometric treatise of the French Renaissance Isis 66, 379-386 Thevet, And& 1584 Oronce Finee Portraits et vies des hommes illustres grecz, latin, et payens 2 vols Paris 
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work_72uzdanhlfgujmv4jbjt7mzswi	----	19: Interdisciplinary Studies in the Long Nineteenth Century Login | Register Home About 19 Live Articles Issues Contact Start Submission Account Login Register Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 This issue of 19 explores the contribution of women as collectors from the mid-nineteenth century to the aftermath of the First World War, paying particular attention to the cosmopolitan transfer of artworks, ideas, and expertise between Britain, France, and the United States. The authors reflect on women’s role in acquiring, displaying, and donating works of art, often in ways that crossed national borders or that subvert gendered assumptions about taste. Beyond its value as a form of personal expression, the articles reflect on how far collecting provided women with a public platform in the late nineteenth century, enabling them to shape the contents of cultural institutions and promote new types of inquiry. But the articles also cast light on the archival and methodological reasons why women’s crucial contributions in this domain have so often been obscured. The idea for this issue originated with the study days organized in 2019 to celebrate the philanthropy of Lady Wallace, who gifted the collections of the Hertford family to the nation. Cover image: Detail of William Rothenstein, The Browning Readers, 1900, oil on canvas, 76 × 96.5 cm, Cartwright Hall Art Gallery, Bradford. Editors: Tom Stammers (Guest Editor) Introduction Women Collectors and Cultural Philanthropy, c. 1850–1920 Tom Stammers 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Article ‘Life was a spectacle for her’: Lady Dorothy Nevill as Art Collector, Political Hostess, and Cultural Philanthropist Caroline McCaffrey-Howarth 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Beyond the Bowes Museum: The Social and Material Worlds of Alphonsine Bowes de Saint-Amand Lindsay Macnaughton 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 French Taste in Victorian England: The Collection of Yolande Lyne-Stephens Laure-Aline Griffith-Jones 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Unmasking an Enigma: Who Was Lady Wallace and What Did She Achieve? Suzanne Higgott 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 More than Mere Ornaments: Female Visitors to Sir Richard Wallace’s Art Collection Helen C. Jones 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 New Collections for New Women: Collecting and Commissioning Portraits at the Early Women’s University Colleges Imogen Tedbury 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Ellen Tanner’s Persia: A Museum Legacy Rediscovered Catrin Jones 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 The Artistic Patronage and Transatlantic Connections of Florence Blumenthal Rebecca Tilles 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 A Woman of No Importance?: Elizabeth Workman’s Collection of Impressionist and Post-Impressionist Art in Context Frances Fowle 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Afterword Afterword Kate Hill 2021-01-05 Issue 31 • 2021 • Women Collectors: Taste, Legacy, and Cultural Philanthropy c. 1850–1920 Created by potrace 1.14, written by Peter Selinger 2001-2017 | 1755-1560 | Published by Open Library of Humanities | Privacy Policy Sitemap Contact Login 
work_73bmeugbyzf6zipuuldqeagpna	----	First Known Image of Cucurbita in Europe, 1503–1508 H A R R Y S . P A R I S 1, *, M A R I E - C H R I S T I N E D A U N A Y 2 , M I C H E L P I T R A T 2 and J U L E S J A N I C K 3 1 Agricultural Research Organization, Newe Ya’ar Research Center, PO Box 1021, Ramat Yishay 30-095, Israel, 2 INRA, Unité de Génétique & Amélioration des Fruits et Légumes, Domaine St Maurice, BP 94, 84143, Montfavet cedex, France and 3 Department of Horticulture and Landscape Architecture, Purdue University, 625 Agriculture Mall Drive, West Lafayette, IN 47907-2010, USA Received: 1 February 2006 Returned for revision: 14 February 2006 Accepted: 22 February 2006 Published electronically: 10 May 2006 � Background The genus Cucurbita (pumpkin, squash, gourd) is native to the Americas and diffused to other continents subsequent to the European contact in 1492. For many years, the earliest images of this genus in Europe that were known to cucurbit specialists were the two illustrations of C. pepo pumpkins that were published in Fuchs’ De Historia Stirpium, 1542. Images of fruits of two Cucurbita species, drawn between 1515 and 1518, were recently discovered in the Villa Farnesina in Rome. � Findings An even earlier image of Cucurbita exists in the prayer book, Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne, illustrated by Jean Bourdichon in Touraine, France, between 1503 and 1508. This image, which shows a living branch bearing flowers and fruits, had not been examined and analysed by cucurbit specialists until now. The image is identified as depicting Cucurbita pepo subsp. texana. Unlike some of the fruits of Cucurbita depicted in the Villa Farnesina a decade later, this image does not depict an esculent and does not constitute evidence of early European contact with New World agriculture. Based on the descriptive, ecological and geographical accounts of C. pepo subsp. texana in the wild, the idea is considered that the image was based on an offspring of a plant found growing along the Gulf Coast of what is now the United States. Key words: Cucurbita pepo, Lagenaria siceraria, Cucumis sativus, Bryonia dioica, Cucurbitaceae, crop dispersal, crop history, plant iconography. I N T R O D U C T I O N The genus Cucurbita L. (pumpkins, squash and some gourds) (Cucurbitaceae) is native to the Americas (Gray and Trumbull, 1883; Whitaker, 1947). Pumpkins and squash were dispersed to other continents by transoceanic voyagers at the turn of the 16th century and have become a familiar and important vegetable crop in many countries. According to the FAO, over 1500 000 ha of pumpkins, squash and gourds were harvested in 2005. Most of the total yield of nearly 19 000 000 tonnes was produced in Asia and Europe, with much of the remainder in North America (FAO, 2006). The three widely grown species, Cucurbita pepo L., C. maxima Duchesne and C. moschata Duchesne, are extremely polymorphic in fruit characteristics. The fast growth rate of pumpkins and squash, their large size, dec- orative value and role as common table vegetables have fostered fascination and wonder among people of widely different cultures (Norrman and Haarberg, 1980). Plant iconography is the most unequivocal tool for assess- ing the historical presence of botanical taxa in a particular region; this is especially the case for the Cucurbitaceae (Eisendrath, 1961). The first known images of Cucurbita outside of the Americas had long been believed to be two illustrations of pumpkins of C. pepo that appeared in De Historia Stirpium (Fuchs, 1542), 50 years after Columbus’ first voyage to the New World (Sturtevant, 1890; Zhiteneva, 1930; Whitaker, 1947; Eisendrath, 1961; Paris, 1989, 2001; Meyer et al., 1999; Teppner, 2000). Recently, depictions of fruits of the North American species C. pepo and of the South American species C. maxima, painted between 1515 and 1518, were recognized in the festoons at the Villa Farnesina in Rome (Caneva, 1992; Ravelli, 2004; Janick and Paris, 2006). These indicate the existence of New World cucurbits in Europe by that time and antedate the depictions of C. pepo in Fuchs’ herbal by a quarter century. Recently the authors became aware of a depiction of Cucurbita in the Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne, a prayer book compiled and illustrated in Touraine, France, between 1503 and 1508, antedating the depictions in the Villa Farnesina by a decade. The objective of this paper is to describe the historical context and to present, analyse and discuss this image of Cucurbita in comparison with those of the two other cultivated cucurbit species illustrated in the book. The Cucurbita image will be identified taxonomically to the level of subspecies and then the possible origin of this New World taxon in the Loire Valley of France, within 16 years of the European contact with the Americas, will be considered briefly. H I S T O R I C A L C O N T E X T Anne de Bretagne (1477–1514), Duchess of Brittany, was twice Queen of France, the first time by marrying Charles VIII in 1491 and the second time, after his death, by marrying his successor, Louis XII, 8 years later. A pious monarch, she ordered the famous artist Jean Bourdichon (1457–1521), who was official court painter to four success- ive French kings (Louis XI, Charles VIII, Louis XII and François I), to richly adorn an Horae ad usum romanum, that is, a prayer book for her personal use (Camus, 1894;* For correspondence. E-mail hsparis@agri.gov.il Annals of Botany 98: 41–47, 2006 doi:10.1093/aob/mcl082, available online at www.aob.oxfordjournals.org Published by Oxford University Press on behalf of the Annals of Botany Company 2006 Bilimoff, 2001). Produced between 1503 and 1508 at Tours in the Loire Valley, where Bourdichon lived and worked, the book contains prayers, monthly calendars and full-page paintings of religious themes. On each of the many 30 · 18 cm pages that contain a prayer is a miniature painting depicting part of a plant on, or next to, which are depicted small animals, mostly insects. Well over 300 plant species are represented in the book, drawn from live specimens found in the fields, woods and Royal Gardens of Tours and Blois (Lalanne, 1886; Camus, 1894; Bilimoff, 2001). Most of these paintings are vertically oriented 165 · 45 mm rectangles placed on the outside margins of the pages of prayers; a few, located mostly in the first half of the book, frame the prayers and others, located in the latter half of the book, are in the shape of a square closing bracket, ]. Each is labelled, in Gothic letters, at the top with a Latin name of the plant and at the bottom with its French vernacular name. The book is catalogued as Ms. Latin 9474 at the Biblio- thèque Nationale de France (Table 1) and can be browsed on-line in its entirety at http://mandragore.bnf.fr/html/ accueil.html, by clicking on Recherche, typing Latin 9474 in the small window Manuscrits and clicking on Chercher. The most outstanding feature of this book is the life-like representation of so many species of living plants and small animals, even though the images are not always biologically accurate (Camus, 1894). Indeed, the relative sizes of the various plant parts and the animals, the shapes of the leaves, and the colours of the corollas and the animals sometimes succumbed to fantasy in order to enhance the artistic effects. Nonetheless, the paintings are accurate enough to allow positive identification of many of the plants to genus and species. These paintings, together with the labels of their Latin and French names, combine to form an exceptional botanical document of the French Renaissance. Three more copies of this book were made, each differing somewhat from one another, but the original is considered the finest work (Male, 1904; Delisle, 1913). Used by Queen Anne until her death, this book, which with time was to become known as the Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne, remained within the collection of pre- cious documents of the French kings. In August 1722, the 12-year-old King Louis XVth ordered the botanist Antoine de Jussieu (1686–1758) to display before him manuscripts and vellums from the royal collection that were illustrated with natural, life-like plants and animals. The presentation so pleased the King that he granted Jussieu’s extraordinary request to borrow the Grandes Heures for a critical analysis of the plant illustrations. On 14 November 1722, Jussieu read before the French Academy of Sciences a short mém- oire (treatise) in which he described the plant images in the Grandes Heures as being much more realistic than those of T A B L E 1. Locations and call numbers of the Grandes Heures and of related rare or difficult-to-access documents Item Document Location Call no. Book Horae ad usum romanum (Les Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne), original copy, 1503–1508 Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Richelieu, Paris Ms. Latin 9474 Catalogue A. de Jussieu, Catalogus Stirpium elegantissime, 1722. Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Richelieu, Paris Ms. Nouvelles Acquisitions Françaises 5052, pp. 150–159 Treatise and catalogue A. de Jussieu, Réflexions sur diverses dénominations françoises de plantes qui sont dépeintes dans un manuscrit ancien du cabinet du roy, followed by catalogue of the plants, 1722. Bibliothèque Centrale, Museum National d’Histoire Naturelle, Paris Ms. 1930 Transcribed treatise A. de Jussieu, Réflexions sur diverses dénominations françoises des plantes qui sont dépeintes dans un manuscrit du Cabinet du Roi. Procès-verbaux de l’Académie Royale des Sciences, séance du 14 novembre, 1722. Archives, Académie des Sciences de l’Institut de France, Paris Volume 41, folio 292–297 Book, in two volumes L. Curmer, Le Livre d’Heures de la Reine Anne de Bretagne (Vol. 1, catalogue of plants by J. Decaisne and translation of text from Latin to French; Vol. 2, facsimile), 1861. Bibliothèque Mazarine de l’Institut de France, Paris Res. Far. Fo. 27-1 and Res. Far. Fo. 27-2 Article in periodical containing transcribed treatise L. Lalanne, Mémoire inédit d’Antoine de Jussieu sur le livre d’heures d’Anne de Bretagne. Bulletin du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, Histoire et Philologie, nos. 3–4, séance du lundi, 7 juin, 1886. Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Tolbiac, Paris Per8 Lc 18,347 bis, pp. 227–236. Article in periodical E. Male, Jean Bourdichon et son atelier. Gazette des Beaux Arts 32: 441–457, 1904. Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Tolbiac, Paris SER3, A46, T31 Book L. Delisle, Les grandes heures de la reine Anne de Bretagne et l’atelier de Jean Bourdichon, 1913. Bibliothèque Mazarine de l’Institut de France, Paris 9553 42 Paris et al. — First Image of Cucurbita in Europe http://mandragore.bnf.fr/html/ earlier documents. He considered the illustrations to be of very high quality, although not as fine as some of the draw- ings on vellum within the royal cabinet. He observed that most of the illustrations were of plants common in Touraine. As vernacular names differed regionally and often changed over time, Jussieu presaged Linné in suggesting that plant names needed to be stabilized by the use of a dead language, such as Latin. However, he considered many of the Latin plant labels in the Grandes Heures to be erroneous. This led him to prepare a catalogue, in which he tabulated the Latin and French labels of the plants in the Grandes Heures next to Latin designations used in major botanical works such as those of L’Obel, the Bauhin brothers, and Tournefort, and contemporary French common names (Camus, 1894). Both the treatise and the catalogue were forgotten until the end of the 19th century, when Lalanne (1886) published the transcript of Jussieu’s treatise, housed at the Académie des Sciences (Table 1), and located the catalogue (Jussieu, 1722a) at the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. The original treatise together with another copy of the catalogue (Jussieu, 1722b) are at the Bibliothèque Centrale, Muséum National d’Histoire Naturelle (Table 1); however, this second copy lacks the contemporary French names and differs in a few of the Latin designations. In 1861, Léon Curmer, a bookseller and bibliophile, published a luxurious and expensive facsimile of the Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne, which was sold by subscription. This special work, printed in a limited edition of 850 copies in two volumes, was purchased by the pope, the royalty of several European countries, and a number of wealthy families (Curmer, 1861; Table 1). One volume included a French translation of the Latin prayers and a catalogue of the plants. The latter was a listing of the Latin and French plant labels in the Grandes Heures along- side identifications to Linnean Latin and vernacular French names, the authorship attributed by Lalanne (1886) and Camus (1894) to the renowned Belgian botanist Joseph Decaisne (1807–1882). The second volume consisted of a magnificent chromolithographic facsimile of the original prayer book (Lalanne, 1886; Camus, 1894). Camus (1894) traced the history of the Grandes Heures and studied critically, side-by-side, the original copy of it, a copy of the unpublished handwritten catalogue by Jussieu (1722a), the Curmer facsimile with the catalogue by Decaisne (Curmer, 1861) and the transcript of Jussieu’s treatise in the article by Lalanne (1886) (Table 1). Camus concluded that Curmer’s reproductions of the drawings with their names were quite exact, differing slightly from the originals only in the colours, which appear to us to be more brilliant. On the other hand, Camus observed that the Decaisne catalogue of plants was riddled with errors in transcription from the original Gothic letter- ing. Moreover, Decaisne apparently made his identifications without knowing that Jussieu had done a similar work over a century earlier. Camus reported that there were over 40 cases in which the identifications made by Jussieu and Decaisne did not match. The Curmer work was in turn published as a facsimile, in a single volume and in black-and-white, by Bonnot (1979). Bilimoff (2001), in the Promenade dans des Jardins Disparus, reproduced in colour, some whole and some in part, the plant images from the Grandes Heures. This book contains background information and references to Jussieu, Decaisne and Camus. It also has a catalogue, listing the names from the Grandes Heures alongside Latin and vernacular French names. Having became aware of the presence of four cucurbits among the plants represented in the Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne from Bilimoff (2001), the authors located the facsimile of Curmer (1861) and the complete original images on the website of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. One of these, bearing the Latin name Napus silvestris and the French name Naveaulx sauvages, is bryony, Bryonia dioica Jacq., which grows wild but is not cultivated. Another, bearing the Latin name Cucumer and the French name Concombres, is indeed cucumber, Cucumis sativus L. Another cucurbit, bearing the Latin name Cucurbita and the French name Quegourdes, is bottle gourd, Lagenaria siceraria (Molina) Standley. These three cucurbits are of Old World origin. This paper focuses on the fourth cucurbit image, bearing the Latin name Colloquitida and the French label Quegourdes de turquie. As will be discussed, earlier writers have agreed that this image was modelled on a plant of the New World genus Cucurbita, but the identification of the species has been controversial and as far as is known no cucurbit specialists have examined the image and positively identified it to that taxonomic level. D E S C R I P T I O N O F T H E I M A G E O F QUEGOURDES DE TURQUIE The image of Quegourdes de turquie in the Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne [folio 161; image 295 of the web page; chromolithograph image on page 323 in Curmer (1861); partial image on page 92 in Bilimoff (2001)] is bracket- shaped with a golden background (Fig. 1). It depicts a branch with three pistillate flowers at anthesis that closely resemble those of Cucurbita pepo. The large orange-yellow corollas are moderately flaring, fused at the base and parted, as petals, near the apex. The corollas are six-parted, rather than the typical five-parted, but six-parted and even seven- parted corollas do occur occasionally in C. pepo (Duchesne, 1786). The calyx is short and its sepals are thin, tapering to a point at the apex, like an awl. The ovaries are inferior and pyriform. A fourth pistillate flower, 1 day prior to anthesis, is depicted near the apex of the branch. Six leaf laminae and parts of three petioles are depicted. The leaf laminae are acute, serrated and deeply indented, as in C. pepo, but their shape is seven-parted rather than the usual more-or-less five-parted. No detail is evident for the petioles, which are spiculate in C. pepo, and no tendrils are depicted. The two pyriform fruits are connected to the stem by long, narrow peduncles. No detail is shown for the stem and peduncles, which are angular and furrowed, respect- ively, in this species. On and next to the plant are depicted a snail and four arthropods: a caterpillar, a fly, a moth and a beetle, all in life-like colour. The two pyriform fruits of the Quegourdes de turquie (Fig. 1) appear to be similar to many gourd-like fruits of Paris et al. — First Image of Cucurbita in Europe 43 C. pepo but also resemble Lagenaria siceraria, the bottle gourd. However, bottle gourds have white flowers. Upon closer examination, the fruits of the Quegourdes de turquie can be seen to bear longitudinal stripes: broad, light yellow- green ones alternating with narrow light blue-green ones. Fruit striping, as far as is known, does not occur in L. siceraria. The striped colour pattern is quite common among the pyriform gourds, wild and ornamental, of C. pepo (Paris, 2001), although most often the broad stripes are dark green (Paris, 2000). On the mature fruits of such pyriform gourds, the broad dark green stripes alternate with narrow ivory white stripes; when the fruits are immature, the narrow stripes are light blue-green, as shown in the image. The green coloration of both the broad and the narrow stripes suggests that the fruits were immature. Cultivated ornamental gourds of C. pepo, as well as wild gourds from Texas, Cucurbita pepo subsp. texana (Scheele) Filov [syn. C. pepo subsp. ovifera (L.) Decker], vary considerably in fruit shape and colour (Bailey, 1937; Erwin, 1938; Bailey, 1943). The image is labelled with a Latin epithet, Colloquitida [sic], at the top and the French vernacular name, Quegourdes de turquie, at the bottom (Fig. 1). The French name quegourdes apparently had been used during that era, first for bottle gourds and then extended to include other gourds. Quegourdes was to become cougourdes or gourdes, epithets applied to forms of Lagenaria (Duchesne, 1786). During the 16th century, the adjective ‘Turkish’ implied an exotic origin. For example, one of the two C. pepo pump- kins appearing in the herbal of Fuchs (1542) is labelled ‘Türckisch Cucumer’ whilst maize (Zea mays L.) is labelled ‘Türckisch Korn’; both of these species, of course, are native American plants. Therefore, the gourd plant illus- trated in the Grandes Heures was recognized as new or foreign, that is, as de turquie, thereby distinguishing it from the Lagenaria gourds. T W O O T H E R C U C U R B I T I M A G E S A N D I N T E R P R E T A T I O N As has been asserted concerning the identity of the cucurbits illustrated in the botanical herbals of the Renaissance (Eisendrath, 1961), the identification of the plants illustrated in the Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne must take into account the artistic style of the illustrator. Camus (1894) wrote that Bourdichon did indeed use some artistic licence. Therefore, comparison of the illustration of Quegourdes de turquie with that of each of the two other cultivated species of cucurbits offers valuable assistance in interpretation. The plant branch depicted in the rectangular illustration labelled Quegourdes [Fig. 1; folio 81; image 142 of the web F I G . 1. The paintings of Quegourdes de turquie (left), Quegourdes (centre) and Concombres (right) in the Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne (1503–1508). 44 Paris et al. — First Image of Cucurbita in Europe page; chromolithograph image on p. 163 in Curmer (1861); p. 92 in Bilimoff (2001)] differs most strikingly from that of Quegourdes de turquie by its white (instead of orange- yellow) flowers and rounded (instead of acute) petals and leaves, and in these characteristics is true to Lagenaria siceraria. However, the two illustrations are similar with regard to fruit shape and lack of detail of the stem. The bracket-shaped illustration labelled Concombres [Fig. 1; folio 204; image 341 of the web page; chromoli- thograph image on p. 409 in Curmer (1861); partial image on p. 92 in Bilimoff (2001)] does indeed appear to depict a branch of a cucumber plant, Cucumis sativus. The depiction shows a plant stem, eight leaves, seven bright yellow stam- inate flowers at anthesis and eight on the day before anthesis; two warted, more-or-less pyriform fruits are attached to the stem by long, narrow peduncles. The stem and petioles are depicted as smooth, without any detail, even though the stems and petioles of cucumber plants typically have large, somewhat prickly hairs. The leaf laminae are angular, as in Cucumis sativus, but are deeply five-, six- or even seven-lobed, whilst in reality those of C. sativus are shallowly pentalobate (Robinson and Decker-Walters, 1997). The lack of stem and petiole tri- chomes and oddly lobed leaf laminae are thus common to the illustrations labelled Concombres and Quegourdes de turquie. The staminate flowers have six petals instead of the typ- ical five. In reality, six- or even seven-parted corollas can be found occasionally on the same cucumber plant together with five-parted corollas. The staminate flowers at anthesis in the depiction are exaggeratedly large but are similar to those of Cucumis sativus as regards their angular shape and intense yellow colour. The peduncles of the fruits are depic- ted as originating separately on the main stem rather than in leaf axils; they are very long, narrow and smooth. Cucumis sativus peduncles are typically spiculate and not so long, and originate in leaf axils. The hexapetalous corollas and the long, narrow, smooth peduncles not originating in leaf axils are, again, in common with the illustration of Quegourdes de turquie. The fruits do not have the typical cylindrical shape of cucumbers, being instead pyriform. At first, this could have been understood as stylistic of the artist, given the similarity of the shape with the two other more-or-less pyriform- fruited cucurbits. However, there are instances in which cucumber fruits do deviate from their usual, uniformly cylindrical shape. For example, fruits can be distinctly broader at the peduncle end than at the stylar end if pol- lination is inadequate. In the illustration, however, the fruits are broader at their stylar end. Moreover, the length-to- broadest-width ratio is unusually low for a cucumber, approximately 2 : 1 rather than the typical 3 : 1 or more, sug- gesting that the plant had andromonoecious sexuality, which is an uncommon characteristic in cucumbers that is conferred by a single recessive gene (Robinson and Decker-Walters, 1997). The two lowest leaf petioles at the bottom of the illustration are depicted as originating oppositely, rather than alternately, on the branch. Opposite leaf arrangement at the base of the plant is another unusual characteristic. Described as occurring in the andromonoecious cucumber ‘Lemon’, it too is conferred by a single recessive gene and the genes conferring andromonoecy and opposite leaf arrangement appear to be linked (Robinson, 1987). The fruit bears numerous warts, typical of C. sativus. Considered alone, the peduncle and fruit could suggest that the illustration might be of a melon, Cucumis melo L. However, the leaf laminae of C. melo are round instead of angular (Robinson and Decker- Walters, 1997). As Bourdichon did accurately depict L. siceraria with rounded leaf laminae, this would have been expected if this illustration had been of a melon. Inter- estingly, a pyriform, warted cucumber having opposite leaves was also depicted in the botanical herbals of Chabrey (1666), Gerard (1597) and Tabernaemontani (1664). The illustration labelled Concombres does indeed appear to depict a cucumber, evidently of the same market type or cultivar depicted in those botanical herbals. D I S C U S S I O N The image of Colloquitida, Quegourdes de turquie (Fig. 1) was listed by Jussieu (1722a, b) with the Latin epithet Colocynthis fr. pyrif. fl. luteo and French epithet Coloquinte. Derived from the Greek kolokynthis, the name colocynth was initially applied only to the plant referred to today as Citrullus colocynthis (L.) Schrader, as shown in Fuchs (1542), Bock (1546), Dodoens (1616) and two images in Chabrey (1666). This cucurbit taxon has pinnatifid leaf laminae, small yellow flowers, and round, nearly spherical fruits. Evidently, the use of the name coloquinte was expanded to encompass other bitter cucurbits, most often the small-fruited Cucurbita pepo (Gerard, 1597; Tabernaemontani, 1664). Bauhin (1651) illustrated and described the true colocynth and listed and described briefly nine other plants that were also denoted colocynth. Seven were described as having rough foliage, probably indicative of C. pepo, an eighth was pyriform, probably also C. pepo. The last was described as having soft foliage and white flowers, evidently a small, bitter form of L. siceraria. Jussieu’s cataloguing of the plant as a colocynth or colo- quinte having pyriform fruit and yellow flowers does indicate that he identified the image with what was to become the Linnean Cucurbita pepo. Decaisne (Curmer, 1861) identified the image as Citrouille, Cucurbita pepo. Citrouille is French for pump- kin, that is, a large, round, edible-fruited Cucurbita, usually C. pepo and sometimes for C. moschata; it has been in such use for several centuries (Duchesne, 1786; Jacobsohn, 2005). The illustration is not of a pumpkin but instead of a plant bearing small, pyriform fruits; the appropriate French epithet of the time would have been cougourdette (Naudin, 1856). Decaisne’s use of the Linnean binomial leaves no doubt, however, as to his identification of the image, which is therefore in agreement with that of Jussieu. On the other hand, Camus (1894) had been advised by a Dr Bonnet that the illustration was of Cucurbita moschata. Gibault (1912), who apparently was familiar with the three widely planted species of the genus Cucurbita and thought- fully considered the history of their arrival in Europe, cited Paris et al. — First Image of Cucurbita in Europe 45 this disagreement. However, he did not offer his own iden- tification for the Quegourdes de turquie. Bilimoff (2001) was cautious, merely listing the image as of a Cucurbita sp. The striping pattern of the fruits shown in the image is not consistent with the possibility that this depiction is of the cultivated species C. moschata, C. argyrosperma Huber or C. ficifolia Bouché. Cucurbita maxima fruits can exhibit narrow light-coloured stripes, but this species has rounded, rather than angular leaves. Wild Cucurbita taxa invariably have round fruits, with the exception of C. pepo subsp. texana, which bears fruits that are most often oviform to globose, with pyriform variants being fairly common (Erwin, 1938; Bailey, 1943; Andres, 1987), and whilst on most fruits the broad stripes are dark, intense green, fruits having lighter-coloured broad stripes or that are even entirely light-coloured or ivory white have also been observed (Bailey, 1937; Decker-Walters et al., 1993). Cucurbita pepo subsp. texana, one of three designated subspecies of Cucurbita pepo, encompasses many cultigens as well as wild plants (Paris, 2001). The cultigens include four groups of edible-fruited cultivars, which have been designated Acorn, Crookneck, Scallop and Straightneck. These esculents are collectively referred to as squash. This subspecies also encompasses one group of cultivars bearing small, generally bitter and non-edible fruits, the Oviform/Pyriform Gourds. These gourds are most often cultivated today for ornament, but may have been grown for some other purposes in the past. Often, they are indistinguishable phenotypically from wild C. pepo subsp. texana. Quegourdes de turquie is a representation of a pyriform gourd of C. pepo subsp. texana. Unlike the pumpkins depic- ted in the festoons of the Villa Farnesina, this depiction in the Grandes Heures is not of an esculent. Furthermore, this image cannot even be considered as evidence of early European contact with Native American horticulture. While the depicted plant might have been an offspring from a cultigen, it appears to be at least as likely that it was derived from a wild plant. Significantly, wild C. pepo subsp. texana is native to southern, south-eastern and central USA, most often being reported from Texas, particularly on the floodplains of several creeks and river systems that enter the Gulf of Mexico and including two coastal counties (Erwin, 1938; Decker and Wilson, 1986; Nee, 1990; Decker-Walters et al., 1993). The prayer book of Anne de Bretagne, Queen of France and Duchess of Brittany, also contains an image of a bean, identified by Jussieu (1772b) as Phaseolus flore luteo and suggested by Camus (1894) to be the New World taxon Phaseolus vulgaris L. There are a number of ways by which seeds of American plants could have arrived in the Loire Valley before 1508. The harbours of Brittany (Bretagne) and Normandy had close historical and com- mercial ties with Great Britain (Grande Bretagne) (Tanguy, 1991) and British and French sailors reached the Americas by 1503 (Harrisse, 1892; Thomas, 2005). Moreover, the Bretons and Normans actively traded with the Spanish and Portuguese. Europeans, including Amerigo Vespucci, entered the Gulf of Mexico as early as 1498 (Mollat, 2005), offering possible opportunities for encountering and collecting Cucurbita pepo subsp. texana. Goods brought by officially sponsored Spanish and Portuguese ships returning from the Americas were of immediate inter- est to European royalty and to the papacy. As early as May, 1494, Peter Martyr D’Anghera, courtier and chaplain to Queen Isabella of Spain and tutor to the royal household, sent a letter to Cardinal Asconio Sforza, secretary of state of the Vatican (published in 1511 as De Orbo Novo), enclosing seeds of many plants, including maize, from returning ships of the second voyage of Columbus (MacNutt, 1912; Janick and Caneva, 2005). Anne de Bretagne had strong diplomatic ties with successive popes as well as family ties with Span- ish royalty (Tanguy, 1991; M. Bilimoff, pers. comm.). For Vatican and Spanish plenipotentiaries calling at the French court, seeds from the New World would have been precious, astonishing and appropriate gifts to present to a queen and duchess who was fond of plants and proud of her gardens. C O N C L U S I O N S It is concluded that the image Quegourdes de turquie in the Grandes Heures d’Anne de Bretagne represents a branch drawn from a plant of Cucurbita pepo subsp. texana. The colour and shape of the flowers, the shape and striping pattern of the fruit, and the angular shape of the leaf laminae are collectively consistent only with this taxon. Completed no later than 1508, this image is the earliest-known repres- entation of Cucurbita in Europe. The Quegourdes de turquie is an image of a pyriform gourd, which is not an esculent (Paris, 2001). This depiction of C. pepo cannot be considered as early evidence of European contact with New World settlements because such gourds have also been found repeatedly growing wild in riverine habitats of Texas (Nee, 1990). Therefore, it is quite possible, if not likely, that this image represents a direct offspring of a wild plant found by an early explorer of the Gulf Coast of Texas. The pumpkins, that is, the edible, large, round fruits of C. pepo and C. maxima, depicted a decade later in the Villa Farnesina in Rome, remain as the earliest evidence known to us of the arrival of domesticated Cucurbita in Europe (Janick and Paris, 2006). What apparently is the first image in Europe of Cucurbita pepo, and indeed of the genus Cucurbita, had until now escaped the attention of cucurbit specialists. This is easily understandable given the scarcity of the Grandes Heures and related documents and the difficulty of locating and accessing them. Publication of the Promenade dans des jardins disparus: Les plantes au moyen age, d’après les grandes heures d’Anne de Bretagne (Bilimoff, 2001) revealed to us a fascinating piece of botanical history. A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T S The three images contained in Fig. 1 are presented by per- mission of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris. We thank Yosef Burger of the Agricultural Research Organiza- tion, Newe Ya’ar, Israel and Antoine Jacobsohn of the Potager du Roi, Versailles, France, for their critical reviews of earlier versions of the manuscript. We also thank 46 Paris et al. — First Image of Cucurbita in Europe A. Lespagnol of the University of Rennes II and Michèle Bilimoff for intriguing discussions, and Anna Whipkey of Purdue University for expert assistance with the figure. Contribution No. 127/2005 from the Agricultural Research Organization, Bet Dagan, Israel. L I T E R A T U R E C I T E D Andres TC. 1987. Cucurbita fraterna, the closest wild relative and progen- itor of C. pepo. Cucurbit Genetics Cooperative Report 10: 69–71. Bailey LH. 1937. The garden of gourds. New York: Macmillan. Bailey LH. 1943. Species of Cucurbita. Gentes Herbarum 6: 266–322. Bauhin J. 1651. Historiae plantarum universalis. Yverdon: Graffenried, 231–232. Bilimoff M. 2001. Promenade dans des jardins disparus: Les plantes au moyen age, d’après les grandes heures d’Anne de Bretagne. Rennes: Editions Ouest-France, 92, 137–140. Bock H. 1546. Kreuter Buch. Strasbourg: Rihel, 314–315. Bonnot J de. 1979. Les Heures d’Anne de Bretagne, Manuscrit No. 9474 de la Bibliothèque Nationale. Paris: Bonnot. CamusG.1894. Les noms des plantes du livre d’Heures d’Anne de Bretagne. Journal de Botanique 8: 325–335, 345–352, 366–375, 396–401. Caneva G. 1992. Il Mondo di Cerere nella Loggia di Psiche. Rome: Fratelli Palombi, 56–74, 129–132. ChabreyD. 1666. Stirpium sciagraphia et icones. Geneva: Gamoneti and de la Pierre, 133–134. Curmer HL. 1861. Le livre d’heures de la reine Anne de Bretagne (2 volumes). Paris: R.J. Lemercier, 2: 323. Decker DS, Wilson HD. 1986. Numerical analysis of seed morphology in Cucurbita pepo. Systematic Botany 11: 595–607. Decker-WaltersDS,WaltersTW,CowanCW,SmithBD.1993. Isozymic characterization of wild populations of Cucurbita pepo. Journal of Ethnobiology 13: 55–72. Delisle L. 1913. Les grandes heures de la reine Anne de Bretagne et l’atelier de Jean Bourdichon. Nogent-le-Rotrou, France: Daupeley- Gouverneur. Dodoens R. 1616. Stirpium historiae pemptades. Antwerp: Plantin. Duchesne AN. 1786. Essai sur l’histoire naturelle des courges. Paris: Panckoucke, 7–11, 15. Eisendrath ER. 1961. Portraits of plants. A limited study of the ‘icones’. Annals of the Missouri Botanical Garden 48: 291–327. Erwin AT. 1938. An interesting Texas cucurbit. Iowa State College Journal of Science 12: 253–261. FAO. 2006. FAOSTAT data. http://faostat.fao.org/faostat/collections? subset=agriculture. 31 Jan. 2006. Fuchs L. 1542. De historia stirpium. Basel: Isingrin 372, 698–699, 825. Gerard J. 1597. The herball or generall historie of plants. London: Bollifant, 763, 768–769. Gibault G. 1912. Histoire des légumes. Paris: Librairie Horticole, 346. Gray A, Trumbull JH. 1883. Review of DeCandolle’s origin of cultivated plants. American Journal of Science 25: 370–379. Harrisse H. 1892. The discovery of North America. London: Henry Stevens and Son. JacobsohnA. 2005. Summer squash, winter squash: classification, selection and the spread of vegetable varieties in France from the 16th to the 20th century. In: Jacobsohn A, ed. L’épopée des courges. Versailles: École nationale supérieure du paysage, 84–101. Janick J, Caneva G. 2005. The first images of maize in Europe. Maydica 50: 71–80. Janick J, Paris HS. 2006. The cucurbit images (1515–1518) of the Villa Farnesina, Rome. Annals of Botany 97: 165–176. Jussieu A de. 1722a. Catalogus stirpium elegantissime. Paris: Bibliothèque Nationale, Nouvelles Acquisitions Françaises no. 5052, 150–159. Jussieu A de. 1722b. Réflexions sur diverses dénominations françoises de plantes qui sont dépeintes dans un manuscrit ancien du cabinet du roy (including a copy of Catalogus stirpium elegantissime). Paris: Bib- liothèque Centrale, Museum National d’Histoire Naturelle, ms. 1930. Lalanne L. 1886. Mémoire inédit d’Antoine de Jussieu sur le livre d’heures d’Anne de Bretagne. Bulletin du Comité des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques, Histoire et Philologie, nos. 3–4. Séance du lundi, 7 Juin 1886, 227–236. MacNutt FA (translator). 1912. De orbe novo: The eight decades of Peter Martyr D’Anghera. http://www.gutenberg.net/1/2/4/2/12525/123235- h/122425-h.htm osem. Male E. 1904. Jean Bourdichon et son atelier. Gazette des Beaux Arts 32: 441–457. Meyer FG, Trueblood EE, Heller JL. 1999. The great herbal of Leonhart Fuchs. Vol. 1. Commentary. Stanford: Stanford University Press. Mollat M. 2005. Les explorateurs du XIII e au XVI e siècle. Premiers regards sur des mondes nouveaux. Paris: Editions du comité de travaux his- toriques et scientifiques. Naudin C. 1856. Nouvelles recherches sur les caractères spécifiques et les variétés des plantes du genre Cucurbita. Annales des Sciences Natur- elles, Botanique, IV 6: 5–73, 3 pl. Nee M. 1990. 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work_6tcgzb46wnhbrpnpxhbwr2oczq	----	Thomas At Mile Zero, 17.SCW -ONE-1 THOMAS AT MILE ZERO Staging Note: The action of the play will move continuously without trying to recreate a realistic set. I suggest a metaphoric set may best serve, around which is created an expressionistic suggestion of the play's scenes. There is also the possibility of a reflecting pool of water symbolic of the entrance to the fairy world that Thomas and the Boy Thomas encounter. Maybe that's all we need. I've deliberately been minimal in my stage directions and non-dialogue descriptions. PROLOGUE SCENE: 1 This scene may re-occur at different times throughout the play. THE BANSHEE, a woman with long flowing hair is rhythmically washing a long, white, cloth in a large metal tub of water with a scrub board. Thomas and Colleen are under a cloth together. The banshee removes the cloth from them and takes the cloth to her washing bucket. In this scene, they are ten years old. They have an apple balanced between their mouths. COLLEEN: Bite it. THOMAS: It will fall. COLLEEN: I liked your story. THOMAS: Thanks. Creation of the world stories are hard to write. COLLEEN: (Enthusiastically) Yeah, yeah, I totally got that. Quick, before someone comes. THOMAS: Okay here goes. (He bites the apple and it falls. They stand there ever so close, near to kissing and then a younger Dante calls.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -ONE-2 DANTE: Tommy Domangard! You Hemorrhoid, your turn to peel the potatoes. The boiling pot waits. THOMAS: Colleen, shoot, I-- COLLEEN: Promise me-- THOMAS: What? COLLEEN: Nothing. Wait! I mean--We'll be friends. Always. THOMAS: That's a big decision. COLLEEN: (Imploring, serious.) Promise? THOMAS: Yes Colleen. Like the return of the wild apples, I promise we'll always be friends. (Colleen exits past the Banshee.) SCENE: 2 (The lights rise on ten year old Thomas, later known as the boy, and his father Sean, his mother Maura and his brother(s), yelling for echoes on top of a hill. ) SEAN: HELLLOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! THOMAS: HELLLLOOOOOOOO!!!!!! SEAN: THOMAS!!!! THOMAS: DADDDDDDDY!!!!!!!! SEAN: OOOOOOOOOOGA! Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWO-3 THOMAS BOOOOOGAaaaaa! (They laugh together) THOMAS: Great echo. So our family owns all this? DANTE: Helloooo! MAURA: Simmer down. (To them all with a shot at Dante, who's grudginly settles down.) You want the whole town to hear all of yee going loonie? SEAN: Oh Maura, they're just excited. Yes it's all ours, and someday we'll build our family manor right here. THOMAS: Manor? SEAN: A home, but much more than that—it will be in our family for generations. Your children's children will celebrate Christmas here. MAURA: You got plans boyo! I believes that when I see it. I best get back and get a pot on for supper. (Maura exits.) THOMAS: Hey Dante did you hear that, my children's children-- DANTE: That'll be the day. You won't outlive the gully monster. THOMAS: Monster? DANTE: You hear that, it's crashing through the woods. And you know the Banshee won't be far behind. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWO-4 THOMAS: It's just Patrick, and Ian. Our monster older brothers. So you're just bullshittin me. SEAN: What was that son? A clean mouth is a clean mind. DANTE: Patrick's working the early shift at the mill. I don't know where Ian is. It's the gully monster and he's sure to get you now. It's coming, and it especially likes little kids. Always eats the youngest, your guts will be hanging from his fangs. OFFSTAGE FEMALE VOICE: Quick stand on a rock, or get into a tree. The gully monster can't get you then. THOMAS: Sadie? Sis? Do you see anything? Is that true Dad? Do I have to stand on a rock? SEAN: Always good to have something to stand on. DANTE: It's coming! Sounds hungry, I'm not taking any chances. Here's my rock. Get your own. THOMAS: Oh Dad! It's coming. Where's Sadie, where's everyone? The monster is coming--Stay away!! (Thomas disappears in the washer-tub and Boy appears suddenly.) SCENE: 3 Deep in the forest. A dying echo of Thomas is heard. (Boy runs forest length not noticing the gully monster.) GULLY MONSTER: Smell the moss. Ah, the morning dew. BOY: Mommy! Dad?! Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THREE-5 GULLY MONSTER: Ah the sound of a male child in fear. Shall I sew his mouth shut? (BANSHEE keeps washing.) GULLY MONSTER: (Continued) You're right I will let him be. That is the sound of my peace. (She catches Boy.) For eternity. What profit? What escape? What plans boy? All for nothing. It's over. BOY: Please let me go. GULLY MONSTER: (With a quick change in tone) My darling, I'll protect you. You're mine. (The older self of Thomas enters and stands by his younger self.) GULLY MONSTER: (Continued) Hear me now as you survive these next years, your worldly self is cursed with fear and faithless doubt. As that self who is beyond the veil passes to adulthood, he'll be tested. Like all the rest, he'll fail. BOY: I can't stay here. I will need to move on? GULLY MONSTER: Everything moves on. But as it does let's always have some fun And you, you my dear will be our beauty, truth and harmony forever young. Are you with me? (Grace enters. She is a younger looking Fairy.) GRACE: Leave the boy. The wheel must turn. GULLY MONSTER: No. It's done. The tests are in motion and for now his happy innocence is mine to protect-- GRACE: --To let go--Because it's his and his alone. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THREE-6 BOY: (To Grace) I want to go with you. Take me back. GULLY MONSTER: Everybody wants Grace. Endless paintings of you. Glamourous purity. No one wants the Monster. (To Grace) Your power is limited without his worldly self taking charge. Come boy, I want to smile again. (She takes the boy over her shoulders and goes into the forest. Lights change as the boy yells.) BOY: Thommmmmmmmmmmmmaaaass. (The Gully Monster muffles his cry.) We transition into the next scene with the older Thomas. THOMAS: Thomas?? (SOUND OF A SCHOOL BELL.) SCENE: 4 (Thomas begins talking with Colleen) THOMAS I'm standing on Gospel Rock cliff. The last days of our Indian Summer. The ocean is bashing the edge five meters below. Zane and the guys are calling to me. Jump Man! Jump you wuss! I stand there with my toes curled around the edge of the rock. Seagulls fly at me----I stared straight ahead though. I was in their perch but I wasn't staying. Look out world. You know it's gorgeous up there when the sun sets past the hills above the beach and over the mountain beyond. Orange fire. Shadow patterns on my chest. Tonight's the night, I was going to finally dive-- --I braced myself with one last deep breath. Who am I kidding? I didn't breathe. I took the plunge and dove. My arms over my head pointing to the water as I soared down so fast. The ocean met me faster than I expected. Great rush. (MORE) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -FOUR-7 THOMAS (Continued) I went right to the bottom and touched. I surfaced fast laughing and gasping for air. I did it. I showed them. I didn't just jump. I dove head first. (Pause, To Colleen) I wish it were all true. I walked down the side and swam back alone. That's it. The whole story. COLLEEN Sad one, you should have really dove. THOMAS: Yeah, you're right. COLLEEN: I mean it. It's spring. Time to take the leap. THOMAS: Yeah. COLLEEN I mean it's time. Change the ending THOMAS: Okay, well I'll write it down with a new ending. COLLEEN: There are other ways to leap. THOMAS: Yeah. COLLEEN: We're not kids anymore. THOMAS: Nope. (Colleen kisses him. Thomas's kisses back.) THOMAS: (Continued) Grad Night? Let's make it perfect Colleen. Roses and Candles... COLLEEN Romantic. I like that. See you maybe after school at the treefort. We can hang-out. Get some homework done. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -FOUR-8 THOMAS: Hang-out. Yeah sure. (Pause. He talks out ahead) I'll write it, that new ending. I'm writing alot of new stuff these days. (Now more to himself.) Got to make some sense of the world. (We hear the sound of another school bell. Or perhaps the "morning announcements" ad lib.) SCENE: 5 A few weeks past the last scene. Thomas and his dad Sean are stuck in in a BROKEN CAR, WAITING FOR THE EARLY FERRY. THOMAS: (Continued) You just going to sleep? SEAN: Passes the time. THOMAS: I can't sleep. SEAN: It's easy. Just close your eyes, and think of nothing. THOMAS: (Pause) Dad, dad, man, what the hell, how did we miss the ferry. SEAN: It left without us. THOMAS: Very funny. This boat of a car--, you knew the radiator would blow. SEAN: We were running the heater so it should have cooled. Sorry son, you have somewhere to be? (Pause.) Colleen's a lovely girl. (Pause, no answer from Thomas.) Tomorrow's only Sunday. Skip mass, and sleep in. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -FIVE-9 THOMAS: Why did I have to come on this trip. Damn. SEAN: Don't swear son. Life is too short. THOMAS: What does that mean? SEAN: Don't know, my father always said it to me. THOMAS: Oh. I still don't know what it means. SEAN: Wisdom of your fathers. Best not to question. THOMAS: That's what I do. SEAN: I've noticed. THOMAS: Do you ever feel something is missing in your life? SEAN: Yes. THOMAS: Yes? SEAN: Yes. But what could possiby be missing in yours so soon? THOMAS: Just a feeling I had. A bad dream since I was about ten. SEAN: So soon, I didn't know. Here's more wisdom: that feeling goes away. THOMAS: Away? Really? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -FIVE-10 SEAN: No, not really. But you forget as you get older that anything really was ever missing. Male Identity Amnesia Syndrome. THOMAS: Something to look forward to I guess. You know you could have just picked up my grad tuxedo without me? SEAN: I could have, that's true. But then we'd miss out on all this. THOMAS: I wouldn't miss it. SEAN: I WOULD. THOMAS: Dad— SEAN: Didn't mean to raise my voice son. THOMAS: Do you want to talk some more? SEAN: Men must talk less, and walk more. THOMAS: What does that mean? SEAN: Not sure, my dad said it to me—think about it. THOMAS: What time is it? SEAN: A quarter to the hour. THOMAS: What hour? SEAN: The same hour as last time you asked. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -FIVE-11 THOMAS: What hour is that? SEAN: ONE! One in the morning. THOMAS: You could have said so. (He looks at his Dad, who grunts) Five hours to go before the first ferry. SEAN: Son, life... THOMAS: Yes? SEAN: Nothing. (Pause.) Best to sleep. THOMAS: Can't sleep. SEAN: So you said. Blast it all, just be quiet. THOMAS: I thought we made this trip to do something together. SEAN: We're doing it, we're waiting. (They stare ahead, as the lights fade. Immobile in their car. In the darkness, we hear Thomas) THOMAS: What time is it? (There is a sound of a Ferry Blast leaving the dock. Lights Down.) Thomas moves into the next scene with flowers. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -FIVE-12 SCENE: 6 Thomas is at the home of his girlfriend Colleen. Her father James is the only one home. (Thomas sits nervously, while James drinks.) THOMAS: (Continued) Home early today Sir? JAMES: (Noticing the flowers.) Questions, questions. THOMAS: Sorry to have bothered you Sir. Please let Colleen know-- (Colleen arrives home, she hesitates a moment, looking at the two men.) THOMAS: (Continued) Colleen-- COLLEEN: Daddy, you're home early. JAMES: Everyone is concerned about my clock. First your mother long distance, young Thomas here and now you-- COLLEEN: Everything good at the mill? JAMES: Tip-Top, The Japanese market is opening up. They might buy us out. Good for the town, perhaps bad for your Dad--But never mind that, never mind. (Referring to his clinking glass) I little relaxing drink, I'd ask you to join me, but-- COLLEEN: Oh Dad, you're funny. (To Thomas) I'll be right down. So good to see you. (Noticing the flowers) Oh are those for me? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SIX-13 THOMAS: Yes, Yes. COLLEEN: I'll put them in water. JAMES: No dear, sit down. I'll take care of the flowers. (James takes the flowers and unwraps them. Then one by one, he clips off the heads of flowers throughout the scene.) You and Colleen have known each other a long time. THOMAS: Since she, I mean you, that is, your family... JAMES: Do I make you nervous? I'm your father's boss, after all-- THOMAS: (Maintaining status) I've known your daughter since we were seven. JAMES: That's a long time isn't it? Now both of you are graduating. THOMAS: Yes. I don't plan to miss it. We were just planning to study some French. Colleen-- JAMES: I dislike French. Tres, Tres, Mal, My petit chou. I dislike cabbage as well. Oh, you don't understand. Yes I know my daughter will look gorgeous on that night. But I'm not selling anything. COLLEEN: Daddy, please. Why are doing this? JAMES: (Ignoring her.) Do you plan to stay in Ladysmith all your life Thomas? Not all your life? You wouldn't be going to University like my daughter Colleen would you? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SIX-14 THOMAS: Uh no Mr. Avery, I plan to continue at my grocery store job and maybe commute to the college in Nanaimo for a few courses. JAMES: A few courses? What courses would they be? THOMAS: It's just a plan right now, but I thought I'd take all my English courses--save some money and then go to University. UBC maybe---or UVic-- uhm I really, don't ...uhm first I just want to graduate. JAMES: I'm not smiling. You see Mother and I have discussed Colleen's future, and I have decided to send her to Queens, our old university. COLLEEN: Dad! We haven't really-- THOMAS: You've decided...(pause) that's cool. JAMES: Funny thing, it's very faraway. Kingston Ontario and it would seem unlikely that your friendship should continue to grow.. Make it an end ship, very soon Thomas.. After all the phone company won't pay your long distance bill. THOMAS: But Mr. Avery-- JAMES: --There are no buts Thomas. THOMAS: Yes, I see what you are saying, but-- JAMES: HEAR what I'm saying. That's the trouble with your TV generation, too visual. Listen to me Thomas. You're only seventeen you have a life to live and Colleen has hers. THOMAS: Colleen might have something— Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SIX-15 JAMES: Come this way Thomas and let me show you the latest addition to my collection. THOMAS: Sir, that's okay, I'll call later. COLLEEN: Oh please, Thomas is not interested in that. JAMES: (Ignoring her, reveling in the item.) See this beauty. An R.C.M.P. issue 38 given to me by my good friend Sergeant Nicholas. THOMAS: A nice gift, Mr. Avery. JAMES: Killed himself and left it to me in his will. THOMAS: I'm sorry Sir, I didn't know. JAMES: Of course you didn't. A blessing really--he was worth more to his family dead than alive. THOMAS: (Uneasy, backing away) That's wonderful sir. JAMES: We both know where you stand with Colleen now don't we? (Pause, as he handles his gun.) Good-bye Thomas. (Thomas nods, exits. James sweeps up the flower heads and disposes of them. Colleen is shocked. ) COLLEEN: Dad! SCENE: 7 Zane and Thomas are playing catch. Lunch at school. THOMAS: He brought out a gun! Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SEVEN-16 ZANE: Yeah, I know, crazy man. Relax. You'll find the guts to work that out. THOMAS: Road movie, I need some new material. ZANE: Cross Canada? We're doing it? Perfect, we need this right now. Something crazy— We'll piss in the Atlantic Ocean, and drive right back all in five days. THOMAS: Can we? Should we? Do we try? ZANE: We DO! There's only do. Next week. Yeah!! And don't wuss out on me. We're both going in. We're driving 10000 clicks just to swim in both oceans. Are you with me!? (They begin the rugby cheer.) Pass'em ball, hey! Oooga! THOMAS: Booga! ZANE: I can't hear you. THOMAS: BOOOOOGAaaaaa! ZANE AND THOMAS: Zigga, zagga, hey! Hey! Hey! (We hear a school bell.) THOMAS We're going to be late for class. ZANE: (Calling back to him.) You ever thought of talking to your dad about Colleen. Or any of your other dreams? Whoah--it works. (They look at each other and laugh.Thomas exits Zane is left alone. Quick fade to a sharp spot light.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SEVEN-17 ZANE: (Continued) I'm alone. There's silence. A sharp edge of light cuts through, wicked and sweet, right through all this screwed-up society stuff-you know, left to us by the generation before. Our world's avoidable destruction-- The light cuts without violence. I step into that pool of light. There's an intake of breath. There are other social beasts here too. I hear it first like the low purr of the Porsche convertible we will rent for Grad night. ..zzzzzz and then louder ZZZZZZZZZZZZ, and then my name, ZANE! ZANE! The crowd chants my name Zane, wild, loud, fun, free. Zane. Then a hush. From the heavens a guitar is lowered down into my hands. I hold it and it caresses me back, and I play the music of the God guitarist Jimmy Hendrix. The music plays through me, and I stumble with grace through the chords I don't even know. And then I feel it...waves rolling over me, green, yellow, and blue breaths of blood. Waves of soul. I believe in soul. The crowd shouts love, and I feel joy. The music forgets it has a body, I have a body, and I just play. SCENE: 8 Thomas is on his bed writing in his journal. His Dad has entered THOMAS: (Noticing his father staring) Whacha looking at? SEAN: You. THOMAS: Stop it would you please. SEAN: When did you get so old? My youngest-- THOMAS: --July 1st every year Dad. SEAN: So I hear your essay on Canada's Uncertain Identity won first prize in The Sun Student Essay competition? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -EIGHT-18 THOMAS: Yep. SEAN: That's good son. Next time, could you write something funny, happy? THOMAS: I won first prize. SEAN: Yes, of course. But happy is as happy does. people need happy stories. Son, we never had the talk. THOMAS: Dad we had the sextalks already. You gave me condoms. SEAN: I suppose we did. But the other talk is more important. THOMAS: What talk is that? SEAN: Well we never seem to get through it--in the car last week-- I've tried many times, but well what I want to talk about is: what are you going to do? THOMAS: Do? SEAN: With your life. (Pause) Did you hear me son, my voice went up at the end there. That is the question, that's the talk. THOMAS: Oh that talk. SEAN: Yes I know it might be late to have that talk, but procrastination is the thief of the time. THOMAS: Well I wanted to become a writer, maybe travel first… Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -EIGHT-19 SEAN: Writer! That's okay for a hobby son, do it on the side. But get a trade, or a saleable skill first. THOMAS: Dad, I like it. SEAN: A job is not about likes. You've got to survive in this world. You've got to keep up with other men, or you'll loose. I've twenty-seven years at the mill. Y0u've got to commit. Or who knows, any chinaman might out do you. They're hardworkers that bunch. Then, where'd you be? In my day, when I was your age—well a bit younger—kids were fainting at their desk for lack of food because there was no job for the family-- THOMAS: Dad! Give it a rest please.--It's 1982, the depression is another world. I don't want to talk about this. (Maura comes into the room.) MAURA: I'm doing a final load. Any dirty clothes here. THOMAS: Mom, I can do my own laundry--do you both have to-- MAURA: Oh, the lord of the manor is writing his opus! SEAN: (With pained reference to her interuption.) We were talking-- THOMAS: Folks, I just want to be left alone. MAURA: Ooh the artiste wants to be left alone--No need for clean Stanfield's then? Oh I forgot you wear Trudeau's now don't you. THOMAS: Mom! Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -EIGHT-20 MAURA: It's a pun son! Wordplay. See I got the gift! I got the gift. You need to laugh, where's your laugh? THOMAS: Mom! (Pause) My swim towel needs a wash. Remember--Zane and I are going to Blund Lake tomorrow for a few days. MAURA All right then, to the business. (She picks up the towel and exits.) SEAN: Something eating you son? THOMAS: No. Just writin' it down. SEAN: All right then. (Turning to go.) THOMAS: Dad? SEAN: Yes son? THOMAS: In life, with people, power, taking charge-- what I mean is, how do you give in, without giving up all the time? SEAN: That's a million dollar question. (He references a famous poetry line.) Invictus! THOMAS: I'm not talking poetry Dad, I'm talking life. SEAN: What is life without poetry? (Thomas begins to leave.) SEAN: (Continued) Where are you going? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -EIGHT-21 THOMAS: Walk. The field. The stars are out. SEAN: Don't leave all these lights on. Money doesn't grow on trees. SCENE: 9 (Lights Transtion) Colleen Alone in her room. COLLEEN: (Speaking into a phone) Mom? Italy must be so beautiful. So much art for you to study. Yes, lots of studying here too. Are you going to be home for Graduation? I sure hope so. Everything is great. You're not sure? I guess it's early there. I should get to sleep. Paint me a pretty picture Mom. Good-bye. Love you. SCENE: 10 Scene is the start of a sequence of short scenes.* We hear the sound of a ferry blast, Traffic noise, gradually subsiding to the whiz of cars.Somewhere on the trans-Canada highway towards the east. Thomas has his head out the window. Wind in his face. THOMAS: Canada, damn. Look at it. (Zane jokingly swerves the car. TRANSITION, Later down the road) SCENE: 11 (They are out of the car, looking at a map.) THOMAS: (Continued) Thunder Bay. Exact spot ZANE: Last Leg of Terry Fox's marathon. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -ELEVEN-22 THOMAS: Last leg? (He looks up to the sky) Sorry man. (Back to Zane) They ought to put a monument here (They nod and return to the car.) SCENE: 12 (Zane is now driving, later in the day.) ZANE: One thousand clicks to go!!! Ladysmith Good-bye. Praries and Frenchies good-bye. Hello Newfies down the road! But you've hardly talked so far. What are you writing in your journal? Tell me the latest story or big idea. THOMAS: I've no new stories to tell now. ZANE: Come on, you always have one. THOMAS: (He keeps writing) Nope. ZANE: The sun is getting brighter these days and they say it's the hole in the Ozone. They say it will fry us by 2001. The environment stuff usually gets you going. (Pause) Look it's getting monotonous-- we've been driving straight for five days. Read me something from your journal. THOMAS: Alright, but I'm telling you it's kinda cheesy. "At seventeen years old I'm amazed--" --You really want to hear this? ZANE: Read it all dude. Don't leave a word out—consider I've cast a magic truth spell. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWELVE-23 THOMAS "I'm passionate. I have lots of love, I was just wondering where will it go in my life. Cause of this fear, and doubt. Quivering quick to the edge of my spine and down to my tailbone. And up into my skull. I pray. Because of this longing. Pain maybe. As we approach eastern Mile Zero something's got to change." ZANE: Man, Loosen up, we're doing this to have fun. THOMAS: Yeah sure. (He starts to write again) SCENE: 13 ZANE: Zigga, zagga, hey! Hey! Hey! THOMAS: Car. ZANE: Whoah, the roads are thin here man. SCENE: 14 (They do a run around the car and then Thomas is in the passenger seat.) THOMAS: I've just got that unnamed feeling of unknowing. ZANE: Right on, just let it happen. THOMAS: --where the head meets the heart and body and becomes a mind. ZANE: Yes, Thomas, give in to it. SCENE: 15 (The boys are down the road, pissing.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -FIFTEEN-24 THOMAS: When Pierre Elliot Trudeau won this last election he walked triumphantly above the crowd, and his first words to all of us were "Welcome to the 1980s." I loved that. Brought home the constitution. That takes style and guts. But now all of us-- we're about to graduate high-school-- and I search for a metaphor for my life and hit upon Canada. It exists on paper. Sure. But what is it? The place, the country, even the idea of Canada as a country--I don't know what that is and I'm lost. It doesn't seem real. Just like my life. I don't exist because I don't know where I'm from. Where is here? Who is here? ZANE: Dude, I think you are overreaching the parallel. Just because you share the same birthday doesn't mean you've gotta have the same endless indentity crisis all your life. (Transition to next scene, Thomas driving.) ZANE: (Continued) You're lucky to have such a great old lady. THOMAS: My mom? ZANE: I was right. You're beyond help. I mean Colleen. THOMAS: Colleen, she's the best. Like I told you in all ten provinces. She's a heart, my heart. ZANE: If you're not going to do with her because of her Dad, Why don't you two break up? THOMAS: Because I can't stop thinking about her. No worries man, it's still SO in the works. Grad weekend. I want it just right. Candles in the treefort? Or Roses and a dinner at the Casa Martinez. Something fancy. Women like that, eh? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -FIFTEEN-25 ZANE: Oh yeah, very cool You know, I couche, cood with the French Teacher. (Thomas responds with a challenging look) I'm not pullin' you man. SCENE: 16 THOMAS: This is it? Mile Zero. ZANE: There's no sign. There's nothing. THOMAS: But it's where that guy at the roadstop said to go. Ssh, hear that? ZANE: Sounds like moaning-- THOMAS: Zane, Look! It's her! (Above the two, the washer woman-- the Banshee is illuminated. She beckons. Zane goes forward.) THOMAS: Zane, don't! ZANE: (He stops.) What does she want? THOMAS: Death. (The Banshee exits.) THOMAS: (Continued) We're lost. ZANE: We're not. We're here. Our feet are are firmly on the pebbles of this beach. THOMAS: I'm lost. Wait, Dance it out! Dance it out. Okay, Good. (He tries to dance her away.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SIXTEEN-26 (A SCREAMING SOUND. Flashes of White and Blackness. More sounds that quickly fade back to the beach sounds. Zane moves quickly one way and Thomas the other. What will become obvious is Thomas and Zane have crossed into the Other World.) ZANE: Thomas! Thomas! What happened? THOMAS: Zane? Zane? Where are you? SCENE: 17 The lights remain black and we immediately transition to DANTE'S basement suite. Dante is tidying the room. There's a loud, insistent knock at the door, and yelling by Colleen. Colleen is an eighteen year old school friend of Thomas and Zane. She's pretty looking, thin and a bit nervous. Colleen is also the daughter of James we met earlier in the play. COLLEEN: (OFFSTAGE) Dante! Dante! you there! DANTE: Who the hell is that? Do you know what time it is? COLLEEN: (offstage) Hello! Dante, please answer, it's Colleen! (offstage) Dante! Dante! I really have to talk with you! (Dante does one quick check of his place) DANTE: Come in Colleen, door's unlocked. (Colleen comes in quickly and looks about. She's upset but trying to hide her feelings.) DANTE: (Continued) So Colleen! Colleen, uhm--Sit down. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SEVENTEEN-27 COLLEEN: (She sits down, on Dante's bed—notices a package of condoms.) So this is post University life? DANTE: Yeah— COLLEEN: Not missing much am I? DANTE: Beats logging camp. I'm glad you looked me up. I haven't seen any Ladysmith people in ages. Don't get back much. What's Up? My little bro treating you right Colleen? COLLEEN I haven't seen Thomas. He took off with Zane. DANTE: What? COLLEEN: He's been gone for three days. I didn't hear from him. I thought he might be here. You never answer your phone-- DANTE: Yeah, I--Just a dumb stunt before graduation. Don't worry about it. COLLEEN: I was hoping he'd be here. DANTE: What's wrong Colleen? COLLEEN: Dad showed Thomas his special handgun. DANTE: What? COLLEEN: His souvenir handgun. DANTE: Odd. But sometimes a gun is (Colleen cuts in) --just a gun-- Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SEVENTEEN-28 COLLEEN: --Don't joke, I'm really worried. I don't know what to do. My dad says I can't see Thomas anymore. Told me I'm going to Queens, like Mom. I have to talk with him. He's probably all but forgotten about our plans. DANTE: Plans? COLLEEN: Nothing, just an expression. DANTE: (He smiles) Hmmmm, hey what do you think of my lips? COLLEEN: What? DANTE: My lips. Do you think they're full enough? COLLEEN: What are you on? DANTE: Non-sequitor therapy--it's a new technique I might use for my Masters--should I ever go back that is. But I was looking here, and I thought geez I've got thin lips. COLLEEN: Is this supposed to be a come-on? DANTE: No. COLLEEN Cause, you know, that's too weird. Thomas is-- I don't like this at all. My dad has done this again…I come to you for your help. You-- with your-- (Dante is trying to maintain her.) You're the older man with the fresh thick paper psychology degree—help me. Make me feel better. DANTE: Hmmm I guess I could get you drunk. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SEVENTEEN-29 COLLEEN: My Dad's the drinker in my family. DANTE: I could wait upon you hand on foot, and listen to everything you say with great intensity, and compliment your eyes, hair, and your perky breasts. COLLEEN: Perky! I'm sorry, perky! Did I hear you right? DANTE: Aha non-sequitor-therapy worked, I got you laughing. COLLEEN: Well…I need more compliments. DANTE: What are you saying? COLLEEN: Hold me. (There is an awkward pause.) Talk to me. DANTE: (With honesty) You have the most beautiful eyes I've ever seen. COLLEEN: Now, you're just saying that. DANTE: No you do. I mean that. And that laugh, wow—you've had that laugh since you were—I don't know, a little girl. COLLEEN: I've grown. DANTE: I can see that. COLLEEN: What else would you do? DANTE: Well maybe I'd just listen to you, just let you talk, and I'd listen. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -SEVENTEEN-30 COLLEEN: That's good, but I'd run out of things to say. DANTE: Well then I'd sing you something, an Irish love ballad, or maybe recite a poem I wrote for you. Or maybe I'd just kiss you and ask questions later. (He does kiss her) COLLEEN: Oh. (Pause.) Yes, your lips are too thin. DANTE: That's what I thought. Thanks for confirming that. COLLEEN: I better go. The last bus leaves up island in (She nervously checks her watch.) Yes. It leaves soon. If Thomas shows up, don't… DANTE: I won't say anything. (She leaves quickly. Dante is left silent, then he makes a phone call.) SCENE 18 The otherworld. More Thunder and wind. Darkness, and a single sharp spot of light falls on Zane from the sides of the stage, a woman, strumming Stairway to Heaven enters. Zane is asleep on the beach. The sound of the screaming Banshee subsides at the entrance of a beautiful woman who is playing a guitar. Zane awakens ZANE: Is this real? Is this feeling true? Is this heaven? GRACE: It is real. ZANE: You are so awesomely beautiful, major rage on. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -EIGHTEEN-31 GRACE Thank-you. I'll take that as a compliment. (She reaches to help Zane up. When their hands touch, it is an electric feeling.) ZANE: Oh, yes, yes I see now. I know. All one, everything connected. This is not a dream. GRACE: You understand. Zane. But your friend Thomas is in grave danger. He needs your help. ZANE: Anything I can do, I will. This feeling does it last forever? GRACE: It's always there for you. You are a good friend Zane, but you may be required to sacrifice. ((There is a loud heavy metal lick as the Gully Monster enters)) GULLY MONSTER: Ah the long hairs, I always enjoy the long hairs. ZANE: Whoah, back off. I'm a virgin. GULLY MONSTER: You have no idea who I am. Barely have you drunk the water of the pituitary GRACE: His choice is made. (She plays more on the guitar) The path must be taken. (Another turn on the guitar) (The Gully Monster picks up her guitar and smashes it.) GULLY MONSTER: If he passes the tests, and remains true, the boy will be given to you. (To Zane) But you've heard what waits for you. (MORE) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -EIGHTEEN-32 GULLY MONSTER: (Continued) All you'll remember of this encounter is her piercing scream. She needs death, great and small. GRACE: Be gone! (A faint cry of the banshee is heard Both Grace and Gully Monster exit and the boys awaken.) SCENE 19 ZANE AND THOMAS. We return to the scene just moments later as Zane and Thomas recover from the event. THOMAS: I'm still here. I'm still alive. Zane! Zane! (More blasts of Thunder, a distant piercing Scream) THOMAS: (Continued) (There is another SCREAM—CLOSER. Zane awakes and looks for Zane.) I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. (Zane taps Thomas on the shoulder. Thomas is scared.) ZANE: What? What have you got to be sorry about? THOMAS: I don't know. I just felt contrite. ZANE: Cause of the ghost? THOMAS: You saw her too! That was the Banshee. Somebody close to me is going to die. (TREMENDOUS THUNDER. WHITENESS AND DARKNESS) VOICE: Endddddddddddddddding. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -NINETEEN-33 ZANE: The times they are a changin' Let's high wind it back as quickly as possible and hope to hell she doesn't follow. SCENE: 20 At Thomas's family home. It is mid-evening. Maura Mahoney, a mid-fifties woman is wearing a brightly coloured house dress. Sean Mahoney is in old work clothes, wearing a ball cap. He is relaxing on the couch reading a book. MAURA: Did you like the dinner I made? SEAN: (He does not look up from his book) Yes, always your best. MAURA: Nobody seemed to like the dessert I made for the Grade Twelve Banquet. SEAN: Their loss, my gain. MAURA (Good naturedly) Yes I can see that. SEAN: (Patting his belly.) Starting next week it's time to lay-off the Doctor Pepper. MAURA: I don't understand how you like that drink. Just because that Mormon couple we met at the marriage renewal tells you its good for you because there's no caffeine. It still has a lord's supply of sugar. SEAN: Oh, you say now does it? I can always say my Doctor ordered me to it. Can't say who told you to wear that dress today. MAURA: Gretchen Growden was over for tea. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-34 SEAN: Another hen party was it? You got the priest in your sight today have you? MAURA: My days of fighting the parish priests are over now. All the kids are gone. SEAN: Don't start that would you now Mo. Not again, you'll be staining our new carpet with tears. MAURA: All my children are grown now. Thomas is my wee last one. That's the boyo, he'll go far. SEAN: If he can keep his head out of the clouds and focus. MAURA: Och! Let the boyo dream. He's young yet. SEAN: Would you stop, I'm studying this prospectus of Stalling Lake. MAURA: Not another stock again—Let's put our money into a trip. Let's travel. I'd love to visit the old country again. See my sister before she passes. SEAN: Why do we need to go anywhere? It's all right here. We live in the most beautiful place in the world. MAURA: Is it too much to ask? A bleeding holiday before the Lord sends us all home. SEAN: We are home Maur'. MAURA: All my children are gone. Seems like only this morning at the first gloryrays of sun that my youngest was cutting his first tooth. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-35 SEAN: Would you stop! Leave me to read, and you read your book. What is it anyway? MAURA: Never you mind. It's nothing. (Hiding the book she was reading) SEAN: (He walks over) Let me see. MAURA: (Laughing nervously) You can't see it, keep your blessed hands away. SEAN! (They tease with the book finally SEAN sees it..) SEAN: A new dictionary! How much did this cost? MAURA: It's borrowed, the priest gave it to me. SEAN: What makes you read this? Is it entertaining? MAURA: It's just something I like to do. After all, the dictionary has all the books in one. SEAN: I guess you're right Maura. You're always right. MAURA: You finally learned. Now about our trip to Ireland— SEAN: No, go by yourself. MAURA: Why won't you come? SEAN: I like where I'm at. Here is where I am at. MAURA: Now you're talking like Thomas. You just want everything to stay the same. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-36 SEAN: Is that a crime? (He puts his book down) I'm done. I'm going for a walk to the back of the property? MAURA: Remember the bears. SEAN: It is late. Maybe I'll go the Village Store and pick up some more Doctor Pepper. (By this time he's put his shoes on, and a light coat. He's ready to go. He picks-up a walkman player.) MAURA: What's that you got there? SEAN: Motivational Tapes for making a million bucks. MAURA: That will be the day buster. SEAN: It's all here (The phone rings.) MAURA: Who could that be? Maybe the school about grad night? Or Mrs. Josef about her pie, Or The Hotel About Cleaning Shifts? SEAN: Answer it and you'll know. MAURA: (Picks up the phone) Hello! Thomas, where are you, I can hardly hear you. SEAN: Say hello for me. I'm off. MAURA What Thomas, just a moment your father is just heading out the door. (Calling to Sean.) Buy a loaf of bread Sean. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-37 SEAN: Yes I will pick up some bread. MAURA: (Back to the phone) Yes I can hear you now. (SEAN signals that he will and leaves.) SCENE: 21 (Lights up on Thomas and Zane crowded around a roadside payphone.) THOMAS: Is that you, you're there Mom, you're speaking to me? MAURA: Well of course I'm speaking to you. My lips are moving lad. Where are you? THOMAS: Is Dad there? MAURA: I told you, he just left to the store. Where are you. THOMAS: In the middle of Saskatchewan Mom. MAURA: What!! What in blazes are you doing there lad? You told me you're going to the lake. THOMAS: We took a detour Mom. MAURA: A detour? Where? THOMAS: Mile Zero, Newfoundland. ZANE: Tell her! Don't waste the quarters. MAURA: Zane is that you? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-ONE-38 ZANE: Hi Mrs. Mahoney. We saw a ghost. THOMAS: I was going to tell her. MAURA: Tell me what! Are you making it back in time for Graduation? I made a cake for you. THOMAS: Mom, thanks. Mom listen--we saw the banshee. MAURA: Saints in blessed heaven. Swear on Saint Patrick you are not taking the power of that creature in vain. THOMAS: Mom I'm not lying. MAURA: When? THOMAS: About four thousand kilometres from here, she was beautiful. ZANE: She was creepy, but there was a chick with her. She was screaming way off pitch. (Attempting to recover his real vision:) But I know--what was it--I know something-- MAURA: Hello! Hello! Did you say she was wailing? THOMAS: Yes Mom. That's why I called. Is everyone okay? MAURA: You just didn't get enough sleep. Probably eating too much junk food. THOMAS: Mom there's a great stuckness in my chest. MAURA: Come home, I'll make Oats Delight. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-ONE-39 THOMAS: Mom. It's scary. The Banshee-- MAURA: --Don't mention her name. THOMAS: It's not that I fear my end is near. It's that I'm always afraid of beginning. MAURA: Thomas, I've listened to you so many times, and still I really don't what the blazes you're saying, but I like it just the same. THOMAS: I'm just trying to tell you how I feel Mom. I'm trying to tell you-- MAURA: --We don't talk about feelings Thomas. Not now. Don't talk anymore. Just come home. Zane drive safely. Avoid any visions. THOMAS: It's nothing to worry about. ZANE: The boy's safe with me Mrs. Mahoney. (Lights down on the boys.) MAURA: Come home boys. Thomas, there's a lad. (She looks at the clock, checks that is ticking, adjusts the time.) LIGHTS FADE. SCENE: 22 (Zane and Thomas asleep in the car, parked in an empty lot. Both are zonked out. Suddenly there's noise.) PETER: Bitch! Get in the fuckin' cab. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-TWO-40 LADY: Leave me-- (She tries to avoid a hard slap to the face, and gets it again.) PETER: -- Bitch! This is all you've done? You got more to do tonight. (Inside the car, Thomas and Zane awake.) THOMAS: What! Did you see that? ZANE: Shit, asshole. THOMAS: Do they have prostitutes in Saskatoon? (Lady tries to run, Peter the Pimp comes after her. She makes it to the boy's car.) THOMAS: (Continued) Duck! ZANE: Screw this noise. (He gets out of the car) Hey! Leave the good woman alone. PETER: Stay out of this boy. LADY: Get lost kid. We're just having a friendly discussion. PETER: You heard the lady. ZANE: Do you need a ride somewhere Miss? PETER: Lady's got a date already. If you got the cash you can be her next soft touch. (He grabs her arm, and pulls her into himself.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-TWO-41 ZANE: Would you like a ride somewhere Miss? PETER: You deaf, or stoned on B.C. homegrown, longhair? Get your skinny, long haired la-la boy ass out of here. (Dismissing him) Onward, lady. THOMAS: Zane, let's go. ZANE: Thomas we can't just go…. PETER: Take the advice of your boyfriend faggot. ZANE: No wonder they call this toon town. PETER: You insult my town faggot? (He advances on him and begins to slam him into the car) (The Lady grabs his arm and tries to pull him off.) LADY: Come on Peter, you're hurting the kid. (Peter swings her off, and then turns to slap her, Zane grabs his arm in midswing.) ZANE: Give me a hand Thomas. (Peter turns his arm into a backswing and slams Zane in the face. Zane is on the ground. Peter goes to his pickup truck and gets a gas can. He begins to pour the liquid on Zane.) ZANE: (Continued) What? Lay off Man. (Peter kicks Zane. Thomas gets out of the car and stands there frozen.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-TWO-42 PETER: Don't you fucking move boyfriend, your little faggot plays with fire, he's going to get what's coming to him. LADY: No! Peter, leave the kid alone. (Peter strikes a match on his boot. It flares up, and he comes in close to Zane.) PETER: (Leaning to his ear) Smell that boy? (Peter has taken out a knife and cut off some of Zane's long hair.) That's right boy. That's the smell of faggots like you burning in hell. You interupted my business. What have you got to say to me? ZANE: (Humming a tune we recognize it as Taking care of business) PETER: You want to see your friend alive again Tommy boy? Leave. ZANE: Don't go Thomas. PETER: That scared rabbit aint got the balls to see anything through faggot. THOMAS: I'll go Zane, I'll go get help. ZANE: Don't leave me here Thomas. PETER: Don't leave me here Tommmmy. (The Match has gone out.) Lady give me your lighter. (As he goes for the lighter, he splashes more gas onto Thomas.) Lighter's coming for you too punk. Get your ass out of here. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-TWO-43 THOMAS: I'll be back Zane. I'm coming back. (Thomas leaves, in a quick back up, and then runs off.) ZANE: Fuck Thomas, come back! PETER: Just you and me kid. Say hi to the devil for me. ((He gets the lighter very close to Zane, and then hoarsely whispers)) PETER: (Continued) Get your ass up. Feel this lady. Feel this right here Lady. See that's the beating heart of a faggot. Thumpety thump, thumpety thump. ZANE: I've some money. PETER: (Laughing) The faggot has money. (He takes what money is offered) Get in your car and never come near my business again. (Zane attempts to gets up towards his car, he starts the engine.) (Thomas comes running after Zane.) THOMAS: Zane! Zane! I called the cops. The cops are coming! ZANE: Forget it! Selfish fuckwad! Where the fuck were you? THOMAS: He told me to go. I tried to stay. I went for help. I was coming right back to you. ZANE: You left me! I could have fuckin' been killed! Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-TWO-44 THOMAS: I was trying to get help. ZANE: This was no dream, you piece of shit. This was no banshee, it was real. (They make their way to the car.) THOMAS: I know. I-- ZANE: Get in. THOMAS: We should wash up. ZANE: No one's washing anything. We need more of the road. (Thomas gets in the car, far and faint we hear the banshee cry. Grace appears.) GULLY MONSTER: Worlds within worlds as the time moves along. You pass the first test Thomas if your friend stays by your side. (HERE, THIS MAY STILL BE A NEW SCENE DOWN THE ROAD. Zane punches him.) THOMAS: Ow! Oh. Yeah, okay. Want another punch? Punch me. ZANE: You think that's going to make it all better? You smell of fear. Not the kind that makes sense. But the kind that stops you in your tracks. Look in the mirror. Look what do you see? THOMAS: A coward. ZANE: Yeah, oh shit. A coward. My best friend is a fucking coward. What does that make me? Maybe, man, we're just a couple of hoser-goofs from westcoast nowhere. But we matter. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-TWO-45 THOMAS: Punch me. ZANE: Nope, Celtic dead man. Here's where we wash it all away. The world is not a fun place when you are looking at it through other people's eyes. You're blind to your power. Seize it. Grab it. Fucking live. THOMAS: I'm sorry. ZANE: There's dark magic surrounding you Thomas. Let's go home. SCENE: 23 THOMAS IN THE TREEFORT But Thomas is on a branch outside the treefort praying. Colleen enters into the tree fort and calls up to him (COLLEEN enters.) COLLEEN: Thomas, I've been looking everywhere for you. Where have you been for almost a whole week? THOMAS Seeing the country before graduation. COLLEEN: I wish you told me. THOMAS: Does your dad know you're here? COLLEEN: He went for a drive to sober up. THOMAS: Jerk. Scared the hell out of me, doesn't care if other people might be hurting, might need--I ought to tell him-- COLLEEN: --What are you talking about? THOMAS: My Dad had a heart attack two nights ago. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-THREE-46 COLLEEN: Is he okay? THOMAS: No. It's touch and go, he might not make it. COLLEEN: Oh. (pause) Oh, I see. I'm sorry. THOMAS: It really is raining—Can you hear it on the roof? COLLEEN: You're soaked skin through. THOMAS: I love the forest, burst of wet, source of life and breath, I could— COLLEEN: Live here? THOMAS: You read it--we always-- COLLEEN: --Said that we could. THOMAS: You're still finishing my sentences. Colleen, the night before in the hospital,with my Dad yelling --"Let me live and die in my own bed!"-- I had a big fight with him. Sort of said he was not the greatest father. Dumb! That was so dumb. Do you hate your father? COLLEEN: There would be nothing left of me if I did that. THOMAS: Forgive him? COLLEEN: Listen to the rain. THOMAS: It's a prayer. The world begins again with each little pissass raindrop. So bloody decisive. They don't think about where to fall, you know, it's like they just do. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-THREE-47 COLLEEN: I'll be leaving soon, and I want to remember this in the way we planned. THOMAS: (Remember Grad, remembering plans) You're going away. To Queens. This is it. (Quickly with the new thought.) Stay and go to UVic with me. COLLEEN: Thomas let's have now. THOMAS: I guess that's a plan. Amongst all the plans. COLLEEN Remember the story you wrote about the apple. THOMAS: Don't bring that up, an apple is an apple Colleen. COLLEEN: Yes, but you turned it into a story of the surprise of creation. I knew-- THOMAS: --We were eleven Colleen. COLLEEN: That's just it, even then you had a gift, a strength. What happened to those guts inside you, the guy I promised.... THOMAS: I don't know Colleen. I lost wonder when reality kicked me in the head. But what the hell, at least I felt the kick, unlike yourself. COLLEEN: I take the path of least resistance. THOMAS: Be ordered to Queens by your nutcase dad. COLLEEN: It's not like that. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-THREE-48 THOMAS: (Quickly perhaps, challenging her.) I might be out here for the whole night. COLLEEN: Allright, I'm going. THOMAS: Wait Colleen! (Thomas brings himself down from the treefort. He goes to kiss her and holds her. They begin to kiss each other. Both needing each other's touch. ) COLLEEN: Oh Thomas, I'm so sorry. THOMAS: Let's not talk. COLLEEN: Uh okay. THOMAS: I mean it's better that way right, more romantic. COLLEEN: It just is. Shut up and kiss me some more. (She reaches into his pants.) That was a better kiss. THOMAS: (In the middle of the groping, which is overwhelming him with excitement.) Better than what? COLLEEN: Nothing. THOMAS: ((He tries to study her for a moment.) Better than who? COLLEEN: Dante. THOMAS: You were with my brother? (MORE) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-THREE-49 THOMAS: (Continued) (Colleen nods, and tries to kiss him but Thomas is overwhelmed both by the news and his own awkardly arrived orgasm) Oh shit. Oh Shit! This is too much. This is too much. I've-- COLLEEN: --Oh it's okay. It's alright. This all happens, I'm sure, I guess, I mean I don't know-- THOMAS: No, no it doesn't, shouldn't, didn't, couldn't. Why'd it have to? This is not the way I wanted it. This is not how we were going to do it. God damn hell Colleen, I wanted roses for you. Take your hands off me. (He turns away and he tries to clean himself, and rebuckles himself.) COLLEEN: I was looking for you, I was worried, it just happened. Well nothing really happened-- THOMAS: Fuck Off! (Colleen backs away uncertain.) COLLEEN: Thomas, you swore at me! THOMAS: Yeah I did. Get used to it. COLLEEN: (She tries to hold him.) I know you must be mad. THOMAS: (He pushes her hands away.) I have to get back home. COLLEEN: Thomas, I'm sorry. It's you I want. THOMAS: (Partially to himself, straining anger.) Wait until I talk with Dante. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-THREE-50 COLLEEN: It meant nothing. THOMAS: Colleen we talked about promising ourselves to each other. Right to our first love, all of our kisses belonged only to each other. All of them. COLLEEN: It can still all happen that way. THOMAS: Your dad is waving guns, my girlfriend is playing with my brother, my dad is dying--have you been listening to me? Or are you as insane as your dad? COLLEEN: My Dad! I'm tired of being afraid. Don't be afraid. THOMAS: Fear is the only friend I've got right now. We'll talk later. COLLEEN: When? So easy for you to just escape. Be present, be there. That's what I wanted. When? (Thomas exits. Scene transitions with Boy.) SCENE: 24 (We see the image of the boy who is seven standing on a rock.) BOY: Daddy, the gully monster can't get me. (Lights fade and come up on the next scene.) SCENE: 25 Mahoney Family Home. Maura and Thomas enter from upstairs. MAURA: Your father has more he wants to say to you. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-51 THOMAS: I'm not going in there again Mom. MAURA: Tell him that you--that he means something to you. THOMAS: Any words I say won't get past this fight, or the one yesterday--. MAURA: --Let your feet do the talking then. Save your breath, while he speaks his last. THOMAS: Where is everyone else? Why do you have to go through this alone? MAURA: Your brother Kieran is resting. He needs his rest. Irene has to look after her own. Dante, said he was coming here tomorrow. SEAN: (Calling from his bedroom) Thomas? Bring some more water will you? (Thomas gets some water, and goes slowly towards his father.) MAURA: We can't be sure of anything. THOMAS: They thought he'd be dead yesterday Mom. MAURA: Then there's hope for us all. Now see to him. Thomas you're keeping your prayers going, like I asked THOMAS: Yes Mom. MAURA: Well tonight, we're doing three Novenas, we'll do it in shifts, and sometimes together. THOMAS: Yes Mom. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-52 MAURA: Well go Thomas, go. (Thomas approaches into his father's room and towards his bed.) THOMAS: Here's your water Dad. SEAN: I'd ask for ice-cream, but I can't really taste it. Oh, I love ice cream. Almost as much as your mom. THOMAS: I love ice-cream too Dad. (Pause.) Want to go swimming? SEAN: What? THOMAS: A pretend swim. You taught me to swim Dad. Let me teach to imagine one now. It could be easy, we just decide where to go, and start making it up. SEAN: Sounds silly. THOMAS: Just go with it. Pick a beach Dad. SEAN: Allright, all right. Cook Point. THOMAS: We walk the trail down through the woods. Hey, let's make it my birthday, you know a special Canada Day swim. SEAN: All right. First thing in the morning at the lowest tide-- THOMAS: --We tear off our clothes, I race on ahead, cause you know I'm younger. SEAN: Across the heavy sea smooth boulders… Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-53 THOMAS: And down to the edge, the barnacles exposed. SEAN: Oh darn. THOMAS: What is it Dad? SEAN: Part of the story son. I cut my feet on the barnacles. THOMAS: "The lowest of the low still have a job to do." SEAN: Yes that's what my Dad always said about them. Sharp things they really cut. THOMAS: Come to the sandbar, you'll forget about that. SEAN: Oh, hard not to imagine all this. Such a wonderful day! THOMAS: Yeah Dad, look at the waves. Stay with it. We have to get in the water. SEAN: Blast of energy. (Cough) I -- (cough) Race ahead of you. The fresh wet sand feels good on my feet. THOMAS: The splortchalaork of the sand as we walk over the clam holes-- SEAN: What kind of word is that? THOMAS: Splortchalaork--I made it up, onomatopoeia SEAN: Did they teach you that in that high school of leftover hippies? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-54 THOMAS: What do you mean Dad? SEAN: Use real words. THOMAS: It's a word Dad. SEAN: Onomatopoeia? What three-dollar word are you pulling out there? THOMAS: Dad! What gives? We were going to go for a swim. SEAN: Sorry son, I just prefer to use real words. (He coughs some more.) Thomas, Thomas, don't ever die. THOMAS: I don't understand. SEAN: It was a joke son. You understand. THOMAS: I'm not joking. SEAN: Good for you son, death is no joking matter. THOMAS: (Reminding his Dad he wants a lesson for living.) I'm not talking about death Dad. SEAN: I know son, I know. THOMAS: Dad, you think that maybe you could call me by my name instead of son all the time? SEAN: Whatever you like son. THOMAS: My name is Thomas. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-55 SEAN: I know your name son. I gave it to you. From the moment you were born, we said you were filled with doubts. THOMAS: Sean, what's it like? SEAN: I'm not a writer Thomas--I'm just a working man dying. THOMAS: Tell me what it's like. SEAN: Thomas, remember when you were little, and the whole family climbed to the top of our property and looked out over the gully. And Dante said "Look out! the Gully monster will get you," and your oldest sister said... THOMAS: "Not if I was standing on a rock or a tree- stump." SEAN: I've got nothing to stand on. THOMAS: I remember, I wrote a story about it. We climbed to the top of that hill and you said you were going to build a huge home there. You never did. SEAN: I never finished this one either. THOMAS: I heard you can't die as long as you've got something to finish. SEAN: Oh that's a good one Thomas. Write it down. THOMAS: I'll write it all down, Dad. Get 'em published. SEAN: Oh Thomas, head in the clouds. Remember get a saleable skill. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-56 THOMAS: Not that again… SEAN: Listen to me, listen…you see, I want to say something to you. I want to know you are taking care of yourself. I want to know you can believe in yourself. THOMAS: I believe I like to write. SEAN: Bravo! Let me applaud the effort. THOMAS: I don't need your applause. SEAN: I know son, I know. THOMAS: Especially when you don't really mean it. SEAN: Son, I'm just trying to get you goin, get you to see. THOMAS: I want you to know I will be okay. SEAN: I'm sure you will. You're my last child. When this is all over, when it's done, tell everyone I said something really important to you. (They pause, Thomas tries to talk about love, but hides it.) THOMAS: Dad, I don't hate you. SEAN: I don't hate you either Thomas. Go now. THOMAS: I don't want to just yet. I do need your applause. There's so much I need to know. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-57 SEAN: Carry a dictionary like your mother, you'll know everything then. THOMAS: What? SEAN: Another joke son. (He laughs and the laughing turns to an urgent coughing fit.) THOMAS: Dad, are you okay? MAURA: (RUNNING IN) What is it? What's the matter, Thomas, go pray. (THOMAS goes out, and begins to pray and his mother soon joins him, as they are kneeling against the couch) BOTH: Hail Mary, full of grace, the lord is with thee, Blessed art thou amongst women, blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus, Holy Mary, Mother .... DANTE, 24 years old, son, and brother bursts into the home. DANTE: HOLY MARY MOTHER OF God!! What in the world are you two doing? MAURA: Keep your voice down. Have you forgotten so soon? DANTE: Yes Mom, Freud's become my new church. And Pavlov's rats are my angels. THOMAS: I thought they were dogs. DANTE: Quite right! MAURA: Overeducated layabout--get a job Dante. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-58 DANTE: It's good to see you too Mom, and I'm glad you'll allow the Twentieth Century guests in my mind to enter this premodern home. THOMAS: You interrupted us Dante. DANTE: My brother, my little pal-- THOMAS: You're drunk. DANTE: I might be stoned too (He takes out a baggy) Want some, I'll get you higher than your prayers will carry you. MAURA: Dante, leave this house now. THOMAS: Mom! MAURA: Leave, I'm going to sit with your father and when I return you'll have made friends with the other side of that door. DANTE: Mom, I'm here to see Dad, that's all I want to do, and then I'll be gone. MAURA: I'll tell him you dropped by. You and those other lunatics. THOMAS: Mom! MAURA: Thomas, not another word. (She exits) THOMAS: You couldn't come home straight. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-59 DANTE: Who are you calling straight? I'm more than straight. THOMAS: It's not about you Dante, not now, not right now. This whole family is so wrapped up in themselves. I wish we could see each other-- DANTE: I see the Mommy's boy I know will never leave home. What do you say to that? THOMAS: Nothing. DANTE: I suppose nothing will come from nothing. Nothing. THOMAS: Why couldn't you come home decently? DANTE: I tried Thomas, I tried. THOMAS: Well you didn't try hard enough, asshole. DANTE: Who the hell are you to talk?? Take off on a road trip to nowhere. Leave your girlfriend-- THOMAS: Leave Colleen out of this! DANTE: Oh so you know about—— THOMAS: --That's all you can say—no denials?? DANTE: Yes we kissed. Yes I liked it. If I'm not mistaken so did she. You got any gum? My mouth is dry. (Thomas is not sure what to do. He paces. He looks back at Dante. He slumps in a chair and starts to cry. There is a pause.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-60 (Tension between the two brothers finally Dante speaks.) DANTE: (Continued) Give me some gum. You always have peppermint gum. (Thomas rummages through his pockets. He throws the gum violently at Dante.) DANTE: (Continued) Best you can do? I've nothing to hide. That's my secret. You're just like Dad. THOMAS: Don't say that. I'm my own person. I'm not like Dad. DANTE: Good for you kiddo. THOMAS: Don't call me kiddo. DANTE: You're still a kid, kiddo. And you are your father's son Thomas. All your doubts are directly from Dad. You even sign your name like him. THOMAS: You say all that as if it's an insult. DANTE: It is. Oh don't get me wrong, we both love Dad. I showed up. But hell, sometimes I want take a laser to those worser parts in me that are coded right down to my bones from Dad. Do you think we will feel free when it happens? THOMAS: Jerk! Shut-up, Mom might...Dad is--I don't know-- DANTE: He'll never die cause there's little you. THOMAS: I--I-- DANTE: I, I, I--sing the blues for you-- Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-61 (MAURA re-enters to the main scene) MAURA: --Enough. Your father is dead. (Pause. Everyone remains still.) THOMAS: Shouldn't we call the ambulance? MAURA: Of course, that's the right thing to do. But your father is dead. THOMAS: But how do you—? MAURA: --I know. He said to leave him there until morning. He likes to sleep late on week-ends. DANTE: Did he get last rights? MAURA: What do you care? I told you to leave. Get out of my sight! You've got no respect. DANTE: Mom, I was, I just wanted-- MAURA: --Aye, you want, you want. That's all there is to you lad. I can't speak to you now Dante. I told you to make friends with the other side of that door. DANTE: Mom, I'm sorry. MAURA: Sorry, is it? Be sorry somewhere else. DANTE: (Going to touch his Mother) Mom, do you— MAURA: --Don't touch me Dante. Get your weedy fingers from my door. Get sober lad. I'll not talk to you until then. Dead father or no. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-62 THOMAS: You should go Dante. DANTE: Don't tell me what to do kiddo. MAURA: That's right no one can tell the great Dante what to do. Hit the road lad. DANTE: When is the funeral? MAURA: The funeral will be on Saturday. Your father has requested that nobody bring drink Dante. Go now, pickle yourself on that thought lad. (Dante picks up his coat and goes to leave. He exits.) THOMAS: He did get last rights with Father Theo? MAURA: Yes lad, Father Theo gave the old boy a good service. THOMAS: What do we now? MAURA: On Sunday, right after early mass, I'm leaving for Ireland and other places. THOMAS: Other places? MAURA: Other places--see the world. Like your father always said—"The world is your Oyster." What in the blazes did that mean anyway? THOMAS: How long are you going for? MAURA: Your father had a saying for almost anything; funny we won't hear that anymore. I don't know how long--I have some savings. You'll look after the house won't you Thomas? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-FIVE-63 THOMAS: Yes. Mom, are you O.K.? MAURA: Of course I am, why shouldn't I be? THOMAS: Dad's, he's, I can't believe-- MAURA: Yes boyo, yes. I know. None of us live forever. It's the way of the world. (She keeps busy.) Now make sure there's lots of roses, your father loved roses. Oh, Thomas--You know that Mr. Jerry Macelrath? Your father asked me to make sure he doesn't come to the funeral. Seems silly, but that's his part of the business. You'll call him won't you Thomas? THOMAS: Yeah, uh, sure. (He goes to call, but stops.) It's 3:30 in the morning Mom. MAURA: Why so it is, well, (She turns to go upstairs.) I'm tired, and I'm going to our--the room upstairs, to rest a bit, I don't know, you understand. (She pauses on the stairs, Mother and son as far apart as possible.) Thomas, I don't have words for this, have you? THOMAS: No. That's my word. No. MAURA: Aye, yes, yes, no, that's the word. (Lights fade to black as they pause staring across at each other.) (End of act one.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-SIX-64 THOMAS AT MILE ZERO Act Two SCENE: 26 The living room of the Mahoney home. Thomas is crashed on the couch. There is a knocking at the window. Thomas stirs a little. Another knock. Thomas stumbles awake and goes to the window. He looks out the window. LIGHTS UP on Thomas's view of what he sees out the window. The same view we saw at the start of the play. There is a woman with flowing long hair, and she is rhythmically washing a white shroud cloth. THOMAS: No that's my word. It can't be. Oh, mom, your words now, blessed be. (He turns from the window in fright. He goes to ring the bear bell, but finds it is gone. He makes a ritual circle quickly. He tries to hide himself under the covers, and soon there's a knocking at the door.) DANTE: Open the door little bro—can't believe it's locked. THOMAS: Go away! Mary protects me! DANTE: What are you talking about, you wuss? It's me Dante. (Thomas goes to the door and opens it gently. Dante bursts in, grabbing Thomas's shoulders.) DANTE: (Continued) Boooooooo! Holy hell, man you're shaking. THOMAS: Leave me alone. I'm not myself today. You're not supposed to be here. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-SIX-65 DANTE: Look Mammy's boy, it's bloody cold out in the treefort. I need some tea. THOMAS: I thought you'd want black coffee. HEY IN THERE! (Yelling close to Dante's ear) DANTE: Bug off man. (Rubbing his head) I'm going Irish today. Sure cure is good tea, hot. Coffee spins you out more. How goes the battle? THOMAS: Mom's upstairs. Dad is still here. Not sure what to do. DANTE: (Not quite sure, but attempting.) We do the things that people do when dealing with death. THOMAS: (Looking for approval) I tried to sleep. DANTE: (Teasing) Top of your list was it? THOMAS: (Defedning himself with the facts.) Mom planned for the Kearney Funeral Home—wanted to wait until morning. DANTE: That will be four more hours. Hell man, we have to get Dad prepared for the wake tonight. THOMAS: Suddenly there's a we here is there. Screw you to hell Dante. May all the Saints close their ears if you ever come calling. DANTE: Give prudish priggery a rest. Hell, you're wound tighter than Phyllis Diller's face. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-SIX-66 THOMAS: Screw you Dante! Screw you. Fuck. Brothers are meant to be there for each other. Child of the same Mother. I wish it weren't true. I wish— DANTE: Let it out, it's healthy -- (The lights flicker. There is a SCREAM.) THOMAS: What was that? That was her. I'll light a candle, I'll boil some water. Where's a candle, anybody got a candle? ((He continues to search, and finally holds up his bic lighter) DANTE: Little bro calm down. (The lights flicker again. There's another faint scream.) (There is another scream. Zane goes to window and looks out. He's terrified and uncertain at what he sees.) THOMAS: She's here!!! She's here! Oh RollingStonesballs, boil some water. It's the banshee. DANTE: Our Celtic Fairy of death and change. Holy Hell! It is her. Thomas, she's coming this way. (He takes the cross from the wall and holds it up) There's no one left to take. There's no one here! THOMAS: Is it really her? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-SIX-67 The figure advances to the door, and the door starts to open. The boys look at the opening door. Dante at the front of it with his crucifix. The figure enters the house. We discover it's Maura, holding a utility flash light, and a ringing a bear-bell. She's dressed in a formal black dress with a light, white shawl, wrapped over her head. MAURA: Put that away Dante, or I might start to think you've found your faith again. All the noise we're making, we're liable to wake the dead. (She jingles the bell. She's on edge but attempting to stay in control.) Although it's damn fun to make some noise. (She jingles the bells again) THOMAS: How are you doing Mom? MAURA: Again with the questions! Would you stop. THOMAS: It's okay, it's going to be okay. MAURA: Okay is it. Okay is it? That's what you see is it! That's what your grade skipping mind tells you is it? You traipse all the way across the country, all the way to who knows where, and see the wailing lady-- THOMAS: --I didn't mean to frighten you. I'm sorry I left like that. DANTE: He was just doing something stupid before Grad. MAURA: No words from you little man from hell's fire. Appropriately named. Oh you hurt when you were born. DANTE: What? —why am I a target? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-SIX-68 MAURA: Blast you boy, you dare to ask? You're like that PNE game—where you wack the mole. Don't stick your head up! Whack! There it is. That's why I love you Dante. Little thorn that you are—you keep sticking your head up. Forgive me Dante, but here's the hand that says I'm sorry to you for saying you hurt when you were born. Take a good look. See this is the hand that stroked your face at your birth, and rubbed your tummy when you were sick. Here's the hand that was there for you to see you off to school—this hand will always be there for you. For all my children. One day you're holding a tiny, grasping, needing child. And then Clap! (She claps her hands loudly.) Hear that? Magic! You're holding a larger, grasping needing child. I might read the dictionary to match my words to your fancy understanding. But my hands don't need words. They are there for you. I'll hold you forever, forever my boys. I look into your eyes and wish and wish. I wonder of the story you will live, the shadowy places you might go, the happiness you might see and the people along your way. I hope you feel the touch of my hands on that journey. Even though you might think I fade away like a forgotten echo. Because each day from your birth there's a little bit more letting go. Its your part of the business boys, it's your part. Live your own fables. (Pause) But take a good look at my foot too boys. You see it boys? Fine because right now you both need a good kick in the head. DANTE: Mom- MAURA: --I'm tired. Too tired to argue with my smart son. Don't waste your life Dante. It's too short. You see, it's gone as fast as this water runs down the drain. (To Thomas) Blast you! You could have stayed! You could have stayed! THOMAS: I'm here. I'm here now. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-SIX-69 MAURA: Bless us all, so you are! Oh lord. (She pauses.)) "I'll bring home the bread!" DANTE: What did you say Mom? MAURA: Last healthy words he spoke to me. Last words he spoke. Oh Thomas why did you go Thomas? Thomas it's all your fault. (She drops her glass from the shaking. It breaks.) THOMAS: Mom. MAURA: Ohh—the glass broke. The glass broke. That's the last one. The last one. DANTE: Mom, they're cheap glasses. Zellers special. MAURA: You bought them for our Twenty-Fifth anniversary. Dante. (She starts to laugh) Oh boys. Boys. (Dante gets a broom and starts to sweep up the glass and the brothers begin to help their Mom to the table.) MAURA: (Continued) Thomas all is not well with my world. (Tearful laughs) I'm sorry you have to miss your graduation. My Sean, my old Sean is dead. THOMAS: I'm sorry Mom. MAURA: Sorry? Sorry, write something to say for the funeral. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-SIX-70 THOMAS: Mom, I can't do anything for the funeral. I just can't MAURA: I can't. You'll do it. You're the one. Write something Thomas. Honour your father. Honour yourself. I must get some rest. I must get some rest. SCENE : 27 (The Boy is seen on the hill calling.) BOY: DADDDDY! DAD! ECHO VOICE: DADDYyyyyyDAD! BOY: WHERE AM I? ECHO: WHERE AM I , I, I, I, I?? BOY: WHERE? (From behind the boy, a representation of the Banshee appears to envelope the boy, and we hear the HOWLING as we fade to black and more rain.) SCENE 28 Dante is alone in the living room. His Father is in the corner inside the coffin. The coffin is tilted slightly so that Sean's body is visible to us. As we have heard earlier, his body has been entranced by the Other World., and so is able to speak. (Sean is known here as FATHER to distinguish him now as "dead.") Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-71 DANTE: (Speaking to his Father) Well Dad, I guess you're glad that's over and done with. I'll see them again at maybe Thomas's wedding, and a few more Christmas times-- How did I get into this family? Three brothers, and one lonely sister hiding in Nelson. Glories gone, all the adult I could become. FATHER: You can always tell a man by the shine of his shoes. DANTE: Jesus, Did you speak? Oh Jesus, you're possessed by the Little Ones aren't you. FATHER: Listening for one minute does more good than talking for ten. DANTE: Holy Mother! You're talking but only saying those damned clichés. you always thought we heard. FATHER: Write it down. Remember to write it down. DANTE: Alright Dad. Here I Go. (He gets a pen and starts writing notes, attaching them to his dad.) There. You can always tell a man by the shine of his shoes. Oh Dad, that's a good one, see I wrote it down. (The tearing of the paper wakes Thomas with a start. He sees what Dante is doing.) THOMAS: What are you doing? Leave Dad alone. DANTE: Mom asked me to change his suit. So I did. She said it was about time he bought a new suit. THOMAS: She did not, you're crazy. What are these notes? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-72 DANTE: All the wisdom of our Father to help guide him to the next world. THOMAS: This is not right. ((He begins to remove the notes. Dante is angered by this.) DANTE: Touch the notes and I'll bash you upside your brain Tommy. THOMAS: Screw you. ((He removes a note.) FATHER: Invictus! DANTE: (Grabbing the note.) Invictus, I always liked that one. THOMAS: Don't insult Dad this way. FATHER: I am the captain of my soul. DANTE: Did you hear that? THOMAS: Hear what? DANTE: Meant only for me and my friend Jamiesons. I feel so special world. (He turns his attention back to Thomas.) Blow against the wind bro. (Looking at the paper) Call yourself a writer. You can't even write a decent euology. My scribbled notes make a better tribute than your constipated scrawl. OOOOOOOOO (He makes a gesture as if he's going to the bathroom.) THOMAS: Go to hell Dante! Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-73 (He lunges for Dante. Dante ducks the punch, tripping Thomas onto his back. Holding him there laughing.) DANTE: Shall we try the Mahoney Typewriter Torture? (He begins to tap on Thomas's chest and then dings his face at the "end" of a sentence.) THOMAS: Let me up! DANTE: What are you going to do? Scream for Mommy! Shut your face. (He continues to type on Thomas.) THOMAS: What do you want! Leave me alone. DANTE: You know they brought the constitution home this year. I wonder if there's anything Trudeau put in about torturing little brothers on the day after their father dies, the day of their graduation, and the day of the loss of their virginity. THOMAS: Go to hell. (He spits in Dante's face) (Dante is surprised. Lets him up, as Thomas gets up, he swings out at Dante, backhanding him across the eye.) DANTE: Holy hell. Shit! (He begins to laugh.) THOMAS: What! Why are you laughing? DANTE: I didn't know you had it in you. A touch of happy violence. You liked that didn't you? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-74 THOMAS: I didn't like anything. DANTE: Sure you did. You reached your potential as a man now bro. It's all happiness from here on in. THOMAS: The man with all the answers. Mr. Grad School. FATHER: Answers are like apples, pluck them before they get rotten. DANTE: I dropped out of grad school. You don't seem surprised. THOMAS: But dad was so proud of you at your university grad. FATHER: Get a saleable skill. DANTE: He asked me why I didn't take something practical. So feeling unblessed for life by Dad,I signed on for grad school. It's not the right timing, although since I quit, I've had all the answers. I walked into the ocean and kept swimming, the sun was setting, and I was floating. Every answer I needed came to me. Then I drowned feeling that power. FATHER: Death is better than a kick in the head. DANTE: Hah, oh Dad. You've got to have that one. THOMAS: Who are talking to? DANTE: No one. Ghosts FATHER: The world is your oyster son. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-75 THOMAS: I don't know what to say about Dad. DANTE: Study Archie Bunker and dose it up with Canadian nicety and there's Dad. Look no further. FATHER: (Referring to "Hanoi" Jane time.) Jane Fonda was a cow. DANTE: Maybe we should bury Dad in his deluxe recliner? THOMAS: I'll help you get his jacket back on Dante. DANTE: The notes stay. THOMAS: Sure--the notes stay. (The boys put on their father's suit jacket.) DANTE: Sometimes I wake up in the morning, and I've dreamed I've lived all my mistakes over and over again. I'm always glad the dream ends and then the terror of the great potential of the new day overtakes me. Then I go to the can. FATHER: A stitch in time saves nine. THOMAS: So what do you do over there then? DANTE: I go running everyday. Occasionally, I peruse those new personal adds. Out to the clubs-- THOMAS: --Looking for anyone? DANTE: No, just someone to lick and like me. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-76 THOMAS: Man, I mean guy or girl? Don't be shocked Dante—I'm naïve, not stupid. DANTE: Anything that moves. Lately. I search for work too. Really, I read the classifieds. Then I go for a run, and then I read. I watch TV, I read some more, then I go to sleep, and promise myself that tomorrow I'll try harder. FATHER: (As the corpse) I'm going to fix that leaky shower tomorrow. Right after the morning news. DANTE: I go running everyday. Oh Jesus Dad, are you ever going to shut up? THOMAS: You're saying Dad is talking to you right now. DANTE: You can't hear him? THOMAS: No. DANTE: It's because I never got to say a proper good- bye. Dad, you're going to bloody haunt my head forever? FATHER: Scattered mind is the playground of the devil. DANTE: Shut up Dad. Okay it was funny once, but it's gone way past that now. There's a knocking at the door, some muffled laughter. Thomas goes to answer discovering it is Zane and Colleen calling. ZANE: (Calling from the door.) Hello! Hello! Who's the graduate? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-77 Zane enters wearing a French Renaissance coat, purple velour, with a walking cane. Colleen enters looking stunning in her formal graduation gown THOMAS: You guys, what are you doing here? COLLEEN: First to express our sympathy for your loss, And-- ZANE: (Turns his walking cane into long necked Trumpet and he gives it a blast a few times) Da Dah! Ladies and Gentleman. Thomas Domangard Mahoney, Graduate. Please step forward for your diploma. (Colleen brings the diploma down, Thomas ignores her, and she puts the diploma down on the "couch") THOMAS: Zane! Once we got back. I didn't think you'd ever speak to me again. ZANE: I told you, I'm your friend. I heard about your dad. Got up early and baked your family some Banana Bread. DANTE: What? Is that the best you can do? Don't you know there are seven stages of grief and it's your job as a friend to help us go through all of them. ZANE: Uhm okay. Harsh. I didn't know. (There is silence in the room.) You know the banana bread; I made it with two bananas. Less sugar that way. DANTE: (Pushing Zane's good nature) If we don't go through them, we might—Oh screw it, slice me a piece. ZANE: Yeah sure, Thomas you got a knife—? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-78 THOMAS: (quickly) --Don't insult my friend that way. DANTE: Joking little bro. (To Zane) I appreciate the gesture. ZANE: Thomas, dude it's okay, I understand. I got a knife. THOMAS: I can't forgive him that easily. COLLEEN: Please don't fight, not now. ZANE: Here's your piece my friend. You too Dante. DANTE: Take it up with Colleen. She needed someone. THOMAS: Don't talk about her, don't say anything about her. DANTE: What did I say? ZANE: Do you guys like the bread? It's an easy recipe. THOMAS: I need her too. (To Colleen) But you're leaving to Toronto in July. DANTE: All the more reason to forget about me and the meeting of lips. THOMAS: Stop talking, shut the hell up! ZANE: Lip meeting? I'm confused. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-79 DANTE: Big news flash. THOMAS: There! You did it again. ZANE: Water off the duck man. THOMAS: Dante and Colleen kissed each other. COLLEEN: (To everyone, with attention to Zane.) It mean't nothing. Really. ZANE: Oh. (Pause as it sinks in) Would you like some more banana bread? THOMAS: To hell with the banana bread! (He throws the banana bread on the ground.) Zane, sorry. DANTE: Srew your friends, what do they know? ZANE: Stop right now. Don't say another word. No more sorries. (To Dante) No more insults. I try to listen to what's in my gut you know. Adopted son of Gretchen Growden-- Left aside and chosen again. Chosen, choice. Choose peace, bro, both of you. THOMAS: I'm glad you're here. I thought once we got home-- DANTE: --Babble, babble, babble, boil and trouble. What the hell are you talking about? THOMAS: We ran into some trouble in Saskatoon. DANTE: Trouble? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-80 THOMAS: This guy— ZANE: It doesn't matter. None of it matters. I live now, you too Thomas. DANTE: Bang on the nose. Don't think it all begins in University because it sucks. That's just a place for old men to drop their pants and play with their PhDs, while undergraduates wait to take their next order. THOMAS: (Almost embarrassed at Dante) Zane and Colleen, You shouldn't miss the party. ZANE: Wouldn't want to miss the chance to see a dead man up close. (To the corpse) Hi Mr. Mahoney, I brought you some roses. DANTE: Cool Zane. That must have cost you party money. ZANE: They're from Nadine's stage display. Done with the use now anyway. COLLEEN: We brought Ladysmith High's grad to you. Flowers and all. ZANE: Step forward Thomas. Colleen has a surprise for you. (Thomas steps forward and takes his diploma, receiving air kisses from Zane. Dante claps) COLLEEN: (She tries to be celebrational but trails off) Good people of Ladysmith for the outstanding short story-- You won Thomas. Here, 98 percent. They announced it at the... (Thomas is surprised and steps forward. He accepts the award and a kiss on the lips from Colleen.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-81 THOMAS: Uh Thanks. COLLEEN: (Looking around, and for Thomas) Roses. You wanted roses. You got them. You know, I love you. THOMAS: I-- Thanks for coming, both of you. I'm choked, no really. (He tears up.) COLLEEN: Sorry about your dad too Dante. DANTE: The lady gives me a sorry. I leave all the ladies sorry. FATHER: Son, be a man son. (Dante reacts to the voice.) COLLEEN: What's the matter with your face Dante? DANTE: Your boyfriend's hand connected with it. COLLEEN: (To Thomas) You hit him? ZANE: Now you're fighting? DANTE: It's a complicated time. COLLEEN: Thomas, let's talk over here a minute. (She takes him to a quieter corner.) I know things are crazy, but I thought all about you throughout the ceremony. (She resolutely tells him the plan.) Almost like we already made it happen. Maybe we still can. The grad party, all of it. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-82 DANTE: (Taunting) You haven't got the guts little bro to move on. THOMAS: Move on? Yours is the head that's haunted. Run away now why don't you? Get drunk somewhere, get high, Screw someone in an alley, and keep on running. FATHER: Dead men tell no tales. DANTE: Take your own advice Dad! FATHER: Giving advice does not mean it will be taken. DANTE: Dad. Holy hell--Yeah Thomas I like to run. An escape, a mind turn-off. Pounding feet. Ten clicks everyday. Everyday. I heard about Dad's heart attack and went for a run. It was raining-- wispy, thin rain, and I was running to the end of the breakwater where there's quite a wind. I pass this group of people. Ten or so. They're silent, sad, I can't see why. I look back, and see someone tossing dirt or something into the water. I get to the lighthouse at the end and turnaround. I feel the waves salt spray my knees. The man is still there. Bull Kelp bashes, Sea Lions bark, Rain pours, Shirt-wet back, the Olympic mountains ghost in the white-dark of the day. As I get closer to the man, I count my breaths. He's rooted himself. He's crying. I overhear someone yell to him from the shore, "Your father's dead Steve. Leave him rest." I jog ten breaths closer to him and the man does not move. I'm one breath away, inches apart, and he sighs, and then we breathe together. And I'm taken from this world. I'm there, my feet still hit the ground, but somehow I'm in a more real place. At that moment, I became something other than Dante the grad-school dropout, I became an element in this man saying Good-bye to his father. (MORE) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-83 DANTE: (Continued) (Noticing how intrigued Colleen is, Dante delivers some of this directly to her, seducing her.) I like to think that when he remembers that day, he'll remember the wind, the rain, the cold stone the sea lions, and he'll remember the lone jogger. Not me, you see, but an element of nature. Like life and death meeting. I become wind, rain, and ocean-- But hell, what do I know what he was thinking? He'd just held the dust of his father in his hands. THOMAS: You do now. There's no escape. (Thomas is crying) DANTE. I know. Screw it. Colleen, I need-- FATHER: --A faint heart never won fair maid-- THOMAS: --You dare! Asshole! With Dad here, you cross me-- DANTE: Damn the Irish ghost. Leave at once. You know he kinda looks like you in that pose Thomas. Except for those tears of yours. He looks kinda happy. FATHER: Happy is as happy does. DANTE: But he's probably thinking ooh boy my littlest son will never become a man. FATHER: Practice on a carrot. THOMAS: You are sick man. I said leave it. DANTE: Gonna hit me again little bro? Leaving it. Leaving it all. Leaving him soon. I will miss him. Here's to you Dad. (MORE) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-84 DANTE: (Continued) (He raises his glass and swigs, he looks at the corpse of his father.) Here's to our Dad. You'll like this one Thomas. Here's to how he taught us all to swim. FATHER: If you're ever in trouble just float on your back. COLLEEN: (Touching his face.) It's allright Thomas, maybe tomorrow-- THOMAS: --You smell of my brother. ZANE: She's chosen you dude. Accept the love man. THOMAS: Love! Happy Graduation. Happy Birthday to me in a week. Hide and seek. One, Two, Three— Help me someone. Hello. Anyone? What do I care? My dad is dead. MAURA: (Calling from offstage.) What's that noise? What am I hearing said in my house? THOMAS: Mommy!! She's awake! She's always awake. She knows everything. I've got to get away. MAURA: (Coming down.) Blast you, what's the noise? Boys, Thomas, what's the matter? THOMAS: Mom, Dad is dead. MAURA: Thomas? Thomas! DANTE: Mom, we thought you were asleep. MAURA: Ach no, I was talking with Father Theo. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-85 THOMAS: No!! Not the Priest! She called the priest. (There is a wailing howl from outside.) ZANE: The Banshee is back. She's coming for more. Thomas runs in fear and hides, locking himself in a small storage cupboard. MAURA: Blast you Zane, don't go makin trouble. What's wrong with Thomas? Of course I called the Priest. Are you all deaf? What's wrong with you son? COLLEEN: (Calling to him.) Thomas, I have to leave in less than week!! Please talk to him. DANTE: The baby is just asking his age. MAURA: That's all you can say? Oh Sean, they got no respect. What's this? (Noticing the notes) Are you mocking him? SEAN: The joke's on them. MAURA: Aye that it is boyo. He brought the bread. He taught you to swim. He was a good man. And you mock him with your reckless dishonour? (To Zane and Colleen, to clear them away.) Zane, son, Colleen, shouldn't you be celebrating' for graduation. ZANE: Yes, Mrs. Mahoney. I'm sorry for your loss. I brought some banana bread. THOMAS: Mom are you allright? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-86 MAURA: You're a dear one to be always asking that question even now. Come out, if you want to talk, like a human being. THOMAS: It's okay, it's going to be okay. Dad's gone, but-- MAURA: --He's on the sauce? Who was it? You Dante? I told you no drink. Or was it Sadie? Some oldest sister she is. Were the little people teasing you again? THOMAS: I haven't talked to the little people since I was seven Mom. MAURA: Well maybe you should. Do yah some good. Now get out here, Thomas You've got a job to do. Have you written it yet? THOMAS: NO! Not yet. I can't, won't, shant, no, no. MAURA: Thomas, come out of the box I can't keep talking like this. THOMAS: Nope. I'm never getting out of this box. MAURA: Right only one thing to do. Dante, Zane. Grab the sides. If the snake won't come to St. Patrick, then St. Patrick must go to snake. Move it out. This boy is going to the priest. They all struggle out the door with Thomas inside the Blanket Box/Hope Chest. FATHER: Don't leave all the lights on. Money doesn't grow on trees. (Lights OUT/Lights transition.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-EIGHT-87 SCENE: 29 Dante and Zane with Colleen arrive into the church carrying the cupboard that carries Thomas. Thomas is moaning. Maura follows in behind calling to them. MAURA Fetch Father Theo, Dante. (She leans towards the cupboard. Dante goes to get Father Theo.) Thomas, we're here. THOMAS: Where is here? That's what I want to know. ZANE: Riddles man, riddles man. MAURA: Hush now smoking lad, this is God's house. (She turns back to the cupboard.)) Thomas you're at the church. Father Theo will talk with you. THOMAS: Church. Blessed be for me. Blessed be. I won't talk with him. I told you. Leave me alone. (Father Theo enters and hears this. In keeping with our Identity theme, I'd suggest the character be French Canadian.) FATHER THEO Hello Thomas. (Pause and no answer.) Do you like the box? THOMAS: Yes. Yes I do. DANTE: Mom, this is crap. Why don't we just drag him out. FATHER THEO: (To Dante and company) When he is ready, he will emerge. Patience. (To Thomas) It's a comfort to you is it? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-88 THOMAS: I like the box, Father. It's quiet. It's dark. FATHER THEO: I might know something here Thomas THOMAS: Damn rights Father, is that so? MAURA: Mind your manners son. This is a priest you're talking with. He's an educated man, not like your brother. DANTE: Mom, I've a degree. MAURA: Oh, he has a degree, does he! Listen to the Professor. FATHER THEO: Perhaps it would be best if you waited in the vestment room. MAURA: Yes good idea Dante, Zane, Colleen—clear out! This is our part of the business. FATHER THEO: You too Maura. (He gestures for them all to back away. All of them begin to the back area of the church.) MAURA: I'll not be leaving my youngest born without me in his hour of need. FATHER THEO: Take care of your own self Maura. Put the kettle on, have some tea. MAURA: Bless you Father I tank I will. A cup of the black stuff is just what I need. (She goes to exit) FATHER THEO: I understand. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-89 DANTE: Do we half to go too? I can't wait to see how you're going to get him out of the trunk. THOMAS: I'm not coming out. Tell them all Mom. FATHER THEO: Your mother has gone to get tea Thomas. The rest of you may stay, but be quiet. That allright with you Thomas? THOMAS: Suit fits wear it. FATHER THEO: Pardon? DANTE: Something Dad use to say. It means it suits him. (Father Theo gestures him to be quiet. Dante realizes his mistake.) DANTE: (Continued) We'll be quiet, we promise. FATHER THEO: Your mother is asking you to say a few words at the funeral. It's not customary, but perhaps-- THOMAS: I told her I wouldn't. MAURA: (Peaking around the corner) You'll do as your bloody well told Thomas. COLLEEN: Thomas, you can do it. THOMAS: Leave me alone. Shut up. MAURA: Don't you say shut-up to your mother. DANTE: Yeah, smarten up. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-90 COLLEEN: Show some respect. FATHER THEO: They're being quiet Thomas. They all are. Pretend it's just you and me talking. We're alone now Thomas, just you, and the heavenly Father makes three. THOMAS: A fine trinity. FATHER THEO: Ahh you were always a bright lad for catechism. I'm sure you are bright enough to write a few words about your father to say as final blessing from your family. THOMAS: I won't. FATHER THEO: I see. Well it was good talking with you Thomas. (Pause, silence.) THOMAS: Hello? FATHER THEO: I'm here. Are you ready to live in the world? (Mother re-enters with tea. She beelines to Thomas.) MAURA: I've got some tea for you too Thomas. Quick steeped just the way you like it. THOMAS: Please stop fussing about me. FATHER THEO: (Annoyed at the interuption with Thomas.) Yes Maura, do be quiet. DANTE: Hey Father, watch who you are talking to. FATHER THEO: I beg your pardon Mrs. Mahoney. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-91 THOMAS: See this is it. My world is all gone. How can I write about what I don't understand? What do you really want from me Father? FATHER THEO: To help you— THOMAS: --Why did you become a priest Father? FATHER THEO: What does that have to with— THOMAS: Everything Father. Can you answer my question? FATHER THEO: Divine inspiration. THOMAS: God told you to become a priest. FATHER THEO: Uh, yes, yes, I felt I had a calling. THOMAS: How did he call you Father? FATHER THEO: What do you mean? THOMAS: I mean did he call you collect, did he give you a dream, was there a burning bush, did you have a conversion on a ferry ride? FATHER THEO: It was a feeling Thomas. Why the questions Thomas? THOMAS: I really want to know. Do they take you aback? FATHER THEO: Are they supposed to? THOMAS: Can you answer my question? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-92 FATHER THEO: What was the question? THOMAS: You forgot my question? FATHER THEO: Yes. THOMAS: So did I. That's a relief. FATHER THEO: What's a relief? THOMAS: To forget my question. At least that's one I don't need to worry about. MAURA: Stop playing games Thomas—listen to the priest. THOMAS: Why? I'm just a test for him. If he can help me, he can verify his life has meaning. (Zane has been meditating quietly) ZANE: That's your clue Thomas. FATHER THEO: I know this is a difficult time. DANTE: Mom this isn't working. You just don't know how to deal with him. Let me turn the hose on him-- MAURA: --I know what I know. That's all I know or need to know. Knowing isn't everything. Believing is everything. I have my faith. This will all work out. Father Theo will help. I do thoroughly believe that. What shall we do Father? FATHER THEO: I was going to suggest prayer, but perhaps a whiskey might help. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-93 MAURA: Saints be blind, dumb and deaf. You're joking to me at a time like this. ZANE: Dude, I mean Mrs. Mahoney, you've got the answer. (Thomas says his next line overtop of Dante. Moves quickly.) DANTE: (To Zane) Be quiet Stonehedge. You don't know anything. THOMAS: (He talks overtop of Dante) Apples were the world on the tree. Gone. Back soon. Soon. Gone. ZANE: Your mom talked about belief. I know my man Thomas is called Thomas for a reason. Heard the story a hundred times--Thomas the doubter. I swear on the earth that he has plenty of reason to doubt. But what this is all about is belief. MAURA: The lad is talking sense. Why can't you be more like him? DANTE: Stop making comparisons. You always used me as a comparison. Telling me to be more like Thomas. Be smart like Thomas. I'm smart Mom. I'm my own person. MAURA: Can't you think about how I feel? THOMAS: Feelingsssssssssss oh wwwhoooah whoahh feeeeeelings. (THOMAS continues to sing throughout.) DANTE: He's singing, now you have him singing! Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-94 FATHER THEO: Do you really make comparisons? That's not a good idea. MAURA: Who asked your opinion? FATHER THEO: Well I'd say you did. MAURA: Your always lording it over Father. You even talked about the cleanliness of my home From the altar no less! COLLEEN: Your home is quite neat. MAURA: What would you know little rich girl? COLLEEN: My family is not rich. MAURA: Dollar for dollar you aren't. All of it lost though bottle for bottle for that no-good father of yours. COLLEEN: Well so you know Mrs. Mahoney? MAURA: Aye so I do, so don't go putting on airs— COLLEEN: I wasn't doing anything— MAURA: --No backtalk either, I've had enough of your sing-songy voice. COLLEEN: What? Thomas, say something. THOMAS: Say what, you want to screw my brother. MAURA: Watch your mouth Thomas. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-95 COLLEEN: You're all mad. THOMAS: So is it true, do you—? COLLEEN: Yes, no, I mean I wanted to— MAURA: --Shameless little trapper. THOMAS: Colleen, do you? COLLEEN: Yes, so, so I did. Thomas. Grow up! You're nuts. (Thomas steps out. Colleen and Zane are relieved. Dante looks for reactions from Maura and Father Theo. Maura is stoic. Father Theo is surprised but NOT shocked.) THOMAS: I am not nuts. (He's naked. He may walk to each person and gives each of them a rose.) MAURA: We should pray. (No one moves really. Thomas stands alone.) FATHER THEO: So we shall. (Father Theo gathers to begin prayer.) MAURA: Join me now Thomas. DANTE: Is that all you're going to say him? After all he's done? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-96 THOMAS: I'm content. DANTE: Get your clothes on you little jerk. (Thomas ignores Dante. Dante takes a jar of holy water and throws it at Thomas.) DANTE: (Continued) Now get dressed. No need for anyone to see your shortcomings. Devil alive, you stupid git. FATHER THEO: (To Dante) Get out of the church. Do you know what you have done? DANTE: Yes, I know. FATHER THEO: Do you have anything to say for yourself? Holy water thrown this way. It is an offense. MAURA: Aye Father, tis. Out with it lad. DANTE: I'm sorry Mom-- about the water. (Pause.) But he looked thirsty. MAURA: What!! What boy, I'm beside myself. See me over there. I'm beside myself. DANTE: Christ I swore. Oh shit, I did it again. Damn, oh what the hell, I apologize. (Maura walks over to Dante and cuffs his head.) MAURA: Now, I need to pray. Let's all pray. Dante join me now. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-97 DANTE: Those are your caring hands Mom? Apologize to me. I never got to say good-bye. FATHER THEO: Son, you're angry— MAURA: I'll do nothing of the sort. Get down on your knees and pray. FATHER THEO: Pray or leave. (There is silence. Then Thomas laughs.) MAURA: Stop laughing in the church. THOMAS: Why not, its damn funny? My brother has to out crisis me. Competitive jerk. DANTE: I'm not going to pray. FATHER THEO: Where's your faith son? DANTE: I'm not your son. My name is Dante. Take your church faith Theo. My father's funeral is in two days. That's the last time you'll see me in this house. MAURA: Bite your tongue and bleed boy. How can you do this to me? FATHER THEO: What I hear you saying Mrs. Mahoney, and if you'll calm down-- MAURA: Don't try that counselling malarkey on me Father. Save it for the rest of those lot drinking in The Pen every night. You're just as angry as I am, be a man and show it. FATHER THEO: I am a man. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-98 ZANE: May I try Father Theo? (Father Theo nods) Mrs. Mahoney's son is questioning the core of her beliefs just after the death of her main squeeze of forty years. This thought scares the jeeebers out of her, and she sees her son Dante only in the darkest light of betrayal while her youngest stands on the edge of the same abyss. (Pause.) Am I right Mrs. Mahoney? MAURA: Yes. That about sums up the stew. ZANE: Dante, you should apologize. THOMAS: What did you put in that banana bread Zane? COLLEEN: Dante, please apologize and join your brother in prayer. You owe it to him. DANTE: I don't owe him anything. I owe my rent. I owe my student loans. I owe my phone bill. I owe Michael Zamboni for spitting on me in the eighth grade. I owe the Lucky dollar for the caramels I stole at lunch on a dare. I owe the laundry mat 24 quarters for all the times I cheated and got extra dryer time. I owe your coats pockets Mom all the spare change I took because you and Dad were too cheap to give us an allowance. But I owe my brother nothing. FATHER THEO: Is this a confession? COLLEEN: You! DANTE: You what? You kissed me. You kissed me. You wanted more, didn't you? (He kisses her again. Colleen slaps him across the face. She leaves the church in a hurry.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-99 ZANE: Ouch! Wouldn't you agree Father? FATHER THEO: Yes, ouch. I'd agree with that. MAURA: Oh Lord. Let this go. Please forgive my youngest sons and their friends. I give you up Dante. If the church you were raised in means nothing to you and your mind is made up, so be it. You have your father's stubborness. I'm sorry you missed your moment. It happened fast. I heard his last breath, "My best to the kids." You see, you're free. You have my sorrows and my blessings too. It's your part of the business. DANTE: Right. Thank you Mom. Good. I think I will pray now Thomas. MAURA: Aye good. THOMAS: I don't want to pray. MAURA: Thomas, see what you're doing to your family. You've made it out here, now just do a good Our Father and we'll be done with it. THOMAS: (Kneeling down he starts.) I can't remember the words. MAURA: Don't be a foolin' fairy lad, just say it. THOMAS: I honestly don't know the words. FATHER THEO: Yes, well, perhaps if you just spoke outloud to God. THOMAS: You've heard from me before God, please tell me. What shall I do? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -TWENTY-NINE-100 ZANE: Good Thomas. Turn around and face it. MAURA: Don't interrupt. (They begin to pray the Our Father.) THOMAS: Zane, that's it. You're right. You're right. I've got to face this head on, everything head on. SCENE: 30 (Thomas arrives to Colleen's house, shivering and cold wet. Thomas goes over to Colleen) THOMAS: (Continued) You're not surprised to see me? COLLEEN: Yes, I am. For so many reasons. THOMAS: Tell me again. COLLEEN: That I love you? THOMAS: Yes. COLLEEN: Yes, I do. THOMAS: Oh Colleen, why! Hell forget that--I love you too-- okay? It hurts. COLLEEN: So much, I know. (Thomas goes to Colleen and hugs her deeply and kisses her on the lips) THOMAS: Feels good now. COLLEEN: Like truth. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-101 THOMAS: Your dad? COLLEEN: Forget about him. I tell you Thomas, we don't have much time. In four days I'm working in Toronto's Yorktown Hotel, then over to Queens... THOMAS: That's what you want to do? COLLEEN: Yes, and my dad wants it. Okay, he's paying. I really want it, maybe not right away, I'd rather spend more time with you. THOMAS: Could we be--? Do we have to go our separate ways? I doubt-- COLLEEN: --No matter what happens, I know we're always inside each other. (pause) I hope. But why spoil now? THOMAS: --Colleen I-- COLLEEN: Sssh, Thomas you try to see to much of it all at once. Just this moment. (She kisses him.) Would you like an apple, late winterfall? THOMAS: How did you know? COLLEEN: I felt your craving. I don't know why. Yes, here no—Wait, let's do the ritual. Tada! The apple. (She puts it in her mouth) THOMAS: We haven't done this since we were eleven. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-102 COLLEEN: (Removing apple) Almost seven years ago, You never forget. It's part of who we are (She waits) Tinker, Tailor, Soldier, Spy. THOMAS: Doctor, Lawyer, Chief BOTH: Who are we going to be? Old and wise and getting the prize. (They place the Apple carefully between their mouths and begin to bite it and eventually the apple falls to the floor, and they kiss. They suspend themselves in the kiss The Gully Monster invades the scene. She tosses the box of apples to floor and they roll She has the Boy chained to her.) THOMAS: That's not part of the ritual. COLLEEN: It always was for me. THOMAS: Me too. GULLY MONSTER: Summoned here by the ritual. Watch and learn your future. BOY: I won't look. GULLY MONSTER: You'll have no choice boy. (She pulls on the chain and yanks him hard. The boy gasps for air.) COLLEEN: We've thought about this so many times before, haven't you? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-103 THOMAS: Sure. Colleen I really want to do this, I mean all the way. (Checking) Yahp, I mean, nope, okay-- COLLEEN: (Thinking he's still on about Dante) Oh—I thought--But it's just jitters. (Colleen's father stomps in from the back entrance and is shocked to see them.) JAMES: He'll be feeling more than jitters. COLLEEN: Dad, daddy. I didn't hear you come in. JAMES: Shut-up girl. (To Thomas) I didn't think you'd have the guts to set foot in here again. THOMAS: I found some Sir. JAMES: What? You needed a piece of her did you before she goes? A little piece of slutass lad? I'll give you a piece Tommy. COLLEEN: Dad, no leave him alone. JAMES: Shut-up. (He swings at stumbles and hits Colleen) THOMAS: Leave Colleen alone Mr. Avery. JAMES: I didn't mean to hit you. THOMAS: Sir, Mr. Avery your head is bleeding. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-104 JAMES: Kid, if just you stand there I'll teach you to defy me. (Thomas stands steady, waiting for James to advance.) JAMES: (Continued) Challenge me will you? (He walks towards Thomas. Thomas doesn't move. James Avery comes nose to nose with Thomas.) THOMAS: Mr. Avery you are bleeding. JAMES: Leave! (He pauses for micro-moment.) Move! (Thomas doen't move. James stands at him, sneering as he backs away ready to give Thomas a backhand. Thomas still doesn't move) COLLEEN: Thomas, no! Please Move. (Thomas still doesn't move.) JAMES: Stay out of this Colleen. (He takes Colleen by the hand and forces her to move.) JAMES: (Continued) Go to your room. Now! THOMAS: Leave her alone. (Thomas steps in between the path of James and Colleen and doesn't move.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-105 JAMES: (Starting to laugh, puts his arm around Thomas and squeezes his shoulders. He takes Thomas's arm and places behind his back.) Trying to earn a medal boy? Now go. (He collapses into the couch.) THOMAS: You're bleeding Sir. COLLEEN: Let him bleed. JAMES: What was that? You'd let me lie here, you ungrateful girl. COLLEEN: This ends now. I'll call the cops and this time I'll do everything to make sure charges are pressed. (He struggles up.) JAMES: Yes, well, I guess I did hit you. Oh damn, I'm your father Colleen. I want what's best for me. I mean you, you, you I mean. YOU! God damn it to hell. My own daughter. Will you forgive me? COLLEEN: Forgiveness? JAMES: Bitch, just like your mother. THOMAS: Mr. Avery, you don't mean to call Colleen that. (Thomas pushes Mr. Avery down.) (James and Thomas stay almost motionless staring at each other.) JAMES: (Admitting to Thomas.) You're right. COLLEEN: Your words. God I hate them. Silence that's all. (MORE) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-106 COLLEEN: (Continued) Pure. We could share that moment. No words, no care for losing meaning. Just silence. JAMES: Colleen, I'm sorry. (Pause, he sits down) Let's enjoy the silence. COLLEEN: I don't believe you. JAMES: Go Thomas. THOMAS: I'm staying Sir. COLLEEN: Am I supposed to believe anything you say? JAMES: Believe me if you want. THOMAS: Mr. Avery, Sir? COLLEEN: He's out. THOMAS: He looks peaceful that way. COLLEEN: He'll sleep till lunch and then he'll be really nice to me. GULLY MONSTER: I am the darkness boy. See inside yourself. THOMAS: (Breathing out.) Holy crap. I stood there. Did you see that? Oh man, okay, we have to press charges against him. How do we do that? Call the cops? I'm your witness. We should write down everything that's happened-- COLLEEN: --Thomas, it's my fight now. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-107 (Thomas nods sits on the chair.) GULLY MONSTER: There it is. He passed! He passed! BOY: Will you let me go? THOMAS: Yeah, but I'm there if you need me. (Remembering, revved up.) Colleen, we can still-- COLLEEN: Yes. Soon I hope. Thomas, I am filled with— GULLY MONSTER: --Rage. Come boy, back to the otherworld beyond the veil. (They exit. The phone rings.) (Thomas exits. Lights/Scene transitions from the last.) SCENE: 31 (The boy comes running beyond the forest followed by the Gully Monster.) BOY: You tell me lies about the world. GULLY MONSTER: I reflect the truth. (Catching the boy with her verse.) "Come away, O human child! To the waters and the wild, With a faery, hand in hand, For the world's more full of weeping than you can understand." BOY: Did you make that up? GULLY MONSTER: Someone else. But you see it speaks to you, your place is here. (The Boy comes to her.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-ONE-108 GRACE: The boy will not last here in the otherworld. His place is to be part of Thomas the man. GULLY MONSTER: I can't do that. His smile. We're learning to smile and laugh. His laughter is innocence itself. GRACE: You will corrupt the boy. GULLY MONSTER: I'm not that type of monster. I just want to hear his laugh and have him write poetry. Why can't I write poetry? GRACE: Your unique existence is your poetry. GULLY MONSTER: But why can't I laugh anymore? I want more from this life. I want some fun. Come boy, laugh for me. (She exits with the boy.) GRACE: (Calling to her.) Your time is disappearing Mistress. Please, you know that. Let the boy go. There's no telling what will happen as he comes of age. It might be too late for his return. The wheel is turning. SCENE: 32 COLLAGE OF SCENES which is one of Thomas's Story. NEWS MEDIA FLASH: This just in, A man size penis has been spotted in Paris, London, and on the Great wall of China. THOMAS: The orgy of experience. ZANE: A hush came over the crowd. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-TWO-109 (Barking Dogs are heard) DANTE: Quick in here. (They enter a place that is some kind of performance club) COLLEEN: See, these are my breasts. Just like chocolate cake-- THOMAS: Colleen is that you? COLLEEN: Thomas, what are you…it's an early rehearsal, call me Candy. THOMAS: What are doing here? COLLEEN: I ran away from home. THOMAS: And you're a stripper? COLLEEN: Performance art. (Dogs Barking. Middle of a Forest) THOMAS: How did we get here? DANTE: There's a whole crowd of people coming Zane: They must have read the add. NEWSPAPER GUY: Penis Lost, hardly been used, if found call Thomas. THOMAS: You placed an add!! Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-TWO-110 (Dogs barking getting louder) REPORTERS: That's the girl! Miss, is it true your boyfriend lost his penis? REPORTER 2: Did you cut it off? REPORTER 3: Is his penis being held hostage by Lesbian re- education separatists? REPORTER 4: Are you a Lesbian? REPORTER 1: Why are you in a tree? Is the penis part of some Greenpeace protest? JOHN: (Colleen's Father) Where is he? He turned my daughter against me. I'll kneecap him COLLEEN: My Dad has got a gun. ZANE: Wow, my dream is so real. COLLEEN: He's got a gun Thomas! SCENE: 33 (Gradually the lights rise on Thomas asleep on the porch swing. His Mother is waking him up. He looks around, terrified, and realizes he's still back home.) THOMAS: Jesus, damn. Who's there? MAURA: It's only me Thomas. No need to swear at your mother. THOMAS: Oh Mom. You couldn't sleep? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-THREE-111 MAURA: No—I couldn't. Such a housefull these last few days. Well the boyo is finally finishing something. Tomorrow, he's in the ground THOMAS: Yes he is at that. (She smiles a bit. He searches for her reaction.) MAURA: You were out till all hours Thomas. Bad dreams keeping you awake? THOMAS: Yeah. MAURA Well good. It'd be unnatural if you weren't. You shouldn't worry though. He's going to a better place. THOMAS: Hmm. MAURA: Ock! There you go—living up to your name. You'll not have a faith be your crutch in your life. Give you proof of the better place. THOMAS: Mom, do you really believe it? MAURA: Believe what? THOMAS: All of it I guess. That God's son walked the earth, that-- MAURA: Stop it will yah stop? It's not the right time. Talk to the priest next week. THOMAS: Sssh you'll wake the house up Mom. I want to talk to you Mom. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-THREE-112 MAURA: All right what do you want to talk about? Let me get my Anne Landers encyclopedia. THOMAS: No Mom. Let's you and I talk. MAURA: I'll say what I think if you dare me Thomas, so best leave it alone. THOMAS: Why'd you love Dad? MAURA: What kind of question is that? I'm going to bed. THOMAS: Mom—he's dead. MAURA: Well you dared me boyo. Thomas, I loved your father because I did. Don't ask these roses to explain their beauty. THOMAS: Mom, I don't mean to upset you, I really want to know. It's a naïve question not meant to offend. But you guys would fight and gripe at each other, and sometimes he'd go away on long drives, and he'd put you down in subtle ways, I mean did you ever think you could go away and study and do something else when we all became older? MAURA: Where do I begin?! THOMAS: I don't mean to-- MAURA Thomas, I loved, love, the word is love-- Dad, your father, my old Sean, because the world is-- was--less lonely with him. THOMAS: Sometimes that was hard to tell. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-THREE-113 MAURA You're my son and you think you know something of us. Well, well, there's a place that two people, when they know each other, when they love each other, a place that no one else knows but them. THOMAS: That's a place I'd like to know. (Pause)) How'd you meet? MAURA: Oh well, we met by me pushing him down into the mud. Little stinker made a whip about my hair. THOMAS: Really? How old were you? MAURA: Nine maybe, he was two years older. It wasn't love at first site. Surprised me though by coming back ten years later. Here he was now. A hard worker from Canada, got his journeyman ticket for the railway. And he wanted to take me away. So-- I did. THOMAS: It's a big country Mom isn't it. MAURA: You'd know that now wouldn't you. Too pretty, too stupid and not old enough to have grudges. That was a fine trip. We had no money for meals until Toronto. But—oh well—we were happy just the same. THOMAS: And now? MAURA: I'm for Ireland Thomas day after the funeral. THOMAS You're really leaving everyone behind. MAURA: You're the boyo now Thomas, you don't need me. THOMAS: Mom, I'm afraid. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-THREE-114 MAURA: Well stop it would you! Life's too short. So why bother wasting it with careless, fearful nonsense-- There's no easy way to say this, so I'll just say it outloud. Son, I found your journal this morning. I read about that dream story you had. THOMAS: What one was that? MAURA: About your mother finding your penis in her favourite teacup THOMAS: Mom! Mom, this is unbelievable, you shouldn't have read that. MAURA You're right! I wish I hadn't, but I wanted to see if you'd written on your dad. But you had to go writing stories like that at a time like this. You'll not be speaking at the service today. You've got nothing proper to say. THOMAS: First you tell me you to, now you say no, I-- MAURA: I thought about keeping this all to myself. I really did. But I've my own life to lead. This is your lot in life. It's the only way! So says your body to me. THOMAS: You talked with it? MAURA: Aye, that I did. I have dreams too. Strange mysteries death brings. I had a good long talk with your penis. In Gaelic of course. Oh he told me that unicorns are not all gone. Damn fool I was for believing they were. A right good fellow to tell me that bit of truth. His orders were to honour your father. Understand the man he helped you become. Those were the orders. But you're failing. I know you can say something. THOMAS: I won't be there Mom. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-THREE-115 MAURA: Oh Thomas, the lord has taken your Father. Be a man now, it's the way of the world. THOMAS: "Like as the waves make towards the pebbled shore, So do our minutes hasten to their end." MAURA: That's good, write that down, use it for the family words. THOMAS: It's Shakespeare mom. MAURA: Well he knew something didn't he. (Looking away distractedly) Best get a pot on. (Maura exits. Thomas stands there and then finds the nearest scrap of paper and starts to write as the lights fade.) SCENE: 34 The Funeral. In the formal setting of the small local Catholic Church. Father Theo is standing as the gathered communicants are singing the last lines of the Prayer of St. Francis. Thomas is seen ghosting near the back. We imagine all the the attendees. EVERYONE: God, Make me a channel of your peace, Where there is hatred, let me sow love; Where there is injury pardon; Where there is doubt, faith-- (Thomas enters through the centre and stands at the front of the church. The music trails off.) FATHER THEO: The final blessing moment has passed. THOMAS: I have something to say. MAURA: Yes, please let him speak. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-FOUR-116 FATHER THEO: As the youngest son, you may speak. THOMAS: Good Afternoon. My name is Thomas. I had been asked by my mother to say a few words at the funeral as a final blessing from his family. Mom? (He looks over to her.) I met many of you and talked with you about my father yesterday. Like us all he had many hats. Father, Husband, Worker, Town politician, Gardener, Swimmer. He has died before I reach eighteen years. I've wanted so much to grieve for my father. I guess I did. I want so much to tell on how much and why I love my father. I guess I could. But when it comes down to it, here and now, I search for words of certainty. All I know for certain is I hardly knew you Dad. Roof, shelter, duty fulfilled and then you were somewhere over there-dreaming your own dreams. Or just watching TV. I'm sorry you and I will not meet as adults, where we can both struggle in the vast loudness of saying yes all the time, when our every breath wants to scream no. In that struggle, I find strength from something we use to do together. You taught me to swim. I love the water, every cell comes alive. Just a few days ago, I swam out and I looked back at all the homes of our town, old Mrs. Flynn the painter; the Vanhorvsen's home with the fishboat still unfinished, and over the cliffside--the millionaire's home. I kick my legs and a thousand drops of seawater shoot into the air and are held for a moment. Maybe even all the moments of this town are caught in those drops and then they fall back to the ocean. All the lives lived, and all of the hats we've all worn or will wear, and every so often one needs a rock to stand on, a place to be. Just to be. I realize my father gave me that gift. A certainty I need. On the last day as he lay dying, we went swimming. We created the story of an imaginary swim. Together as we'd done when I was very little, we'd experience, the wild joy for the water, and the renewal of a cool swim in the ocean. Just being. Present. That's how I will remember you Dad. (Thomas kneels at the "coffin.") Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-FOUR-117 DANTE: That's my bro. The reception will take place at our family home after the burial. My sister has made her famous Nanaimo Bars. (To Thomas) "I am the master of my fate." LIGHTS FADE. SCENE: 35 (LIGHTS UP.) THE FAIRY FOREST (The Banshee and the Boy dance of death.) BANSHEE.: The triumph of three. Birth, Life, Death. (To the Banshee) It's time for me to return to my origin and live again. My time to go to Tir-na-nog has come. GULLY MONSTER: What of the boy GRACE: The boy's time is now and forever. He will return beyond the veil when he's called. BOY: But what will I do? GRACE: Your world's self will grow to an old age and die. Each day he will be more of the man he was meant to be before our worlds collided. You will be there with him, ageless with the guileless power of innocence, able to face his real monsters. All will be in balance again. BOY: I'm ready. (Grace leaves, the boy joins with the Banshee.) Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-FIVE-118 BANHSEE (To the Gully Monster.) The shroud is yours now. (They take the shroud and place it over the gully monster, who begins to wash it in the tub. The banshees dances with a final cry and takes the boy out to the world beyond the veil. We hear the rain.) (Lights fade. The monster, now the banshee dances out wearing the shroud.) SCENE: 36 IN THE TREEFORT. It is early morning. A CROW CAWS. We see a body stir. (It's Thomas. He gets up to sitting. He's not wearing a shirt. The body next to him stirs, and from the voice we recognize Colleen) COLLEEN: Thomas. Stay here with me some more. THOMAS: The last star is just about gone. Can you make a wish on a last star? COLLEEN: Tempt fate, why not. (Colleen says this knowing of Thomas' battle with fate) THOMAS: My wish is: I wish it were not the last star. COLLEEN: It's still night. THOMAS: Sunrise soon. COLLEEN I could stay. THOMAS: You have to go. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-SIX-119 COLLEEN: Yes. But I'm as close as our voices on the phone… THOMAS: We said no phone calls. (The crow caws.) COLLEEN: Good to be alone. THOMAS Yes. COLLEEN: Let's stay out here until the last possible moment. Thomas, you're crying. (She hugs him.) THOMAS: Got any apples? COLLEEN: What are you asking Thomas? THOMAS: Come here. (They kiss) COLLEEN: Yes please again! (They kiss until their kisses become tentative.) THOMAS: Last night-- COLLEEN: -- was good. THOMAS: Sentence complete. Period. Yes, yes, oh yes, the best I've ever had. COLLEEN: Perfect. This is crazy. Why are we breaking up? You're crying again. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-SIX-120 THOMAS: I think I'm happy, and you? COLLEEN: Right now, yes. THOMAS: You have to go. (Pause) COLLEEN: Yes. (She turns to go.) THOMAS: Colleen. You know, Ten, Twenty, Fifty years from now, when this forest is paved over for a mall or something, we'll still remember--I don't know-- when we were young together. COLLEEN: How could we forget? Now you've got me doing it. Thomas takes his hand and wipes his own tear across the tear on Colleens. THOMAS: Our tears are real. I want in. To this grand tiptoeness. I submit. I give-in. I give back to me my power. People, Crowds, faces, a pond, a pool, an ocean, a life, a force, a society pounding around me, and through, by, and in me. Caging the rain and wind inside me. I cry and I know I'm alive. But I let go. COLLEEN: That's the whole story. (She starts to exit from the tree house.) THOMAS: That's so true. That's the whole story. Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-SIX-121 SCENE: 37 Colleen exits and Thomas is left alone. He hears someone calling. Lights up on the boy atop the rock BOY: Thomaaaaaaaaaaaaas! THOMAS: ((Not turning, acting as the echo) Thomaaaaaaaaaaaaaas! (Thomas then turns to the boy and they see each other for the first time.) BOY: Who are you? THOMAS: I am here. BOY: I didn't say where. I said who. THOMAS: Yes. I heard you. I answered your question with the only answer I know. Who are you? BOY I am an echo. I'm a boy. Are you a boy like me? THOMAS: Yes and No. BOY: Oh, that's a funny answer. THOMAS: Yes it is. What are you doing alone out here so early? BOY I'm waiting for the gully monster. THOMAS: A monster? Aren't you afraid? Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 -THIRTY-SEVEN-122 BOY: Not anymore. Now, I want to meet her. THOMAS: Oh. What will you do when you meet her? BOY: I'll probably ask her some questions. THOMAS: That's a good place to start. (They turn and yell out for echoes.) THOMAS: (Continued) Thom--Thommmm--Thomaaaaas!!!! BOY: Thom Thom Thommmmmmmaaaaaaaaaas!!! END OF PLAY Printed Sept 4th 2008--TAMZ, by DM, Print 17 ��PROLOGUE SCENE:�� 1 �SCENE: 2 �SCENE:� 3 1 DEEP IN THE FOREST. A DYING ECHO OF THOMAS IS HEARD. �SCENE: 4 � �SCENE���:� 5 SCENE: 6 �SCENE:� 7 SCENE: 8 �SCENE:� 9 SCENE: 10 �SCENE:�� 11 �SCENE:� 12 �SCENE:� 13 �SCENE:� 14 �SCENE:� 15 �SCENE:� 16 SCENE: 17 SCENE 18 2 THE OTHERWORLD. ��ˇSCENE 19 ��ˇSCENE:ˆ� 20 ˇSCENE: 21 �ˇSCENE: 22 �SCENE: 23 SCENE: 24 SCENE: 25 �SCENE:� 26 �SCENE ��: 27 SCENE 28 �SCENE�: 29 ��SCENE: 30 ��SCENE:�� 31 ��ˇSCENE:�ˆ� 32 �SCENE: 33 �SCENE: 34 ��SCENE���:� 35 ��ˇSCENE: 36 �SCENE: 37 
work_7ftp7hdrhbhn3dvo73butizfju	----	288 EMWJ 2011, vol. 6 Reviews Pernette du Guillet, Complete Poems: A Bilingual Edition. Ed. with introduction and notes by Karen Simroth James. Poems trans. by Marta Rijn Finch. The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe (The Toronto Series), Vol. 6. Toronto: Iter Inc. and Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2010. 360 pp. $24.50 CAD. ISBN 978–0–77272–06508 The works of early modern French women writers have enjoyed a vibrant revival since the 1990s, with numerous modern and bilingual editions produced in large part thanks to dedicated work by venues such as Droz Press in Geneva and “ The Other Voice in Early Modern Europe” series, published first by the University of Chicago Press and currently by the Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies at Victoria University in the University of Toronto. In Volume 6 of the new Toronto series, French Renaissance specialist Karen Simroth James and poet Marta Rijn Finch have joined forces to produce the first bilingual edition of the 1545 Complete Poems of the poetess Pernette du Guillet. Du Guillet, along with her counterpart Louise Labé a decade later, is the most acclaimed female writer of that time, whose works appeared in her home city of Lyon, the literary and cultural capital of France in the early to mid-sixteenth century. The full corpus of du Guillet’s poems with Finch’s translations on facing pages are preceded by the dedicatory preface of the well-known human- ist Antoine de Moulin (translated by James) as well as publisher Jean de Tournes’s introductory poem to the reader. This impeccably prepared volume also includes an extensive critical introduction by the editor, a substantial note by the poems’ translator, exhaustive translation notes and bibliography, a glossary illuminating difficult elements of sixteenth-century French diction, a synchronizing of two differing numbering systems of the poems in recent editions, and indexes of titles and first lines. Thus, the new edition provides a complete array of pedagogical and research supports that will enhance the reading experience of seasoned early modern scholars and first-time Francophone or Anglophone readers of du Guillet alike. Karen James’s highly readable introduction provides important back- ground to a series of critical issues related to du Guillet’s poetry: the social, cultural, and literary climate in which it was produced and the history of EMWJ_6_For11.indb 288 6/27/11 4:05:51 PM 289Reviews its reception, the crucial role of the paratext (including the closing epitaphs by Lyonnais poet Maurice Scève and cleric-humanist Jean de Vauzelles), and the multiple influences on her work stemming from the traditions of Neoplatonism, Petrarchism, and the Rhétoriqueurs, as well as her close dialogic relationship with Scève. At the present moment in early modern scholarship, when ever-sharper attention is being paid to the hermeneutic implications of paratextual elements, print culture, and editorial practic- es — especially in the absence of verifiable biographical information on the author — James’s deft translation and discussion of de Moulin’s preface in particular demonstrates how his representation of “a humble young poet, inspired by Platonic love and awed by the vast erudition and eloquence of her beloved” (13) illustrates only one aspect of du Guillet’s work and its “complex series of voices that assert contradictory emotions and proclaim the merits of the speaking, writing woman” (14). Du Guillet incorporates a multiplicity of voices into her poetry and revises numerous intertextual discourses as she creates her lyric universe. This tapestry comes alive both through James’s introductory textual com- mentaries and her translation notes, which focus especially on the subtle- ties and polyvalences of Middle French diction, and through Marta Finch’s beautifully nuanced translations replicating Du Guillet’s original meter and rhyme schemes — the challenges of which she illuminates in her own translator’s note. Although du Guillet is perhaps best known for her adher- ence to Neoplatonic thought and convention, she is not content to follow the Neoplatonists’ attribution of the generative act of poetic creation to men alone: rather, in direct address to her beloved, she insists on exercising an active and outspoken role in the artistic process: “Don’t be surprised to any great degree/When I, through art and learning, persevere” (41, ll. 3–4). This active posture confirms, in turn, her denial of the distant, silent status of the female beloved in the Petrarchan male tradition highlighted in the Rime sparse and in her interlocutor Scève’s Délie. A telling case in point is her re-writing of the Diana-Actaeon myth, in which Diana’s vengeful act of throwing water upon the gazing lover and transforming him into a stag fleeing toward his own death forms a nexus of anxiety for both of her predecessors. In the examples from the Délie offered by James, Scève eschews the actual retelling of the Ovidian story in favor of representing EMWJ_6_For11.indb 289 6/27/11 4:05:51 PM 290 EMWJ 2011, vol. 6 Reviews it as a metaphoric reflection of his troubled psyche in the emblem and motto preceding Dizain 168 or as a literal reflection of his eternal separa- tion from the beloved whom he can only venerate by gazing at the clear fountain in which she has bathed in Dizain 235. Instead, in her famous Poem 43, du Guillet ostensibly follows Petrarch’s lengthy recounting of the Ovidian tale in his renowned Canzone 23 of the Rime sparse. However, as James’s analysis astutely points out, and as Finch’s moving translation emphasizes, du Guillet replaces Petrarch’s assimilation of Diana’s puni- tive act, transforming Actaeon into a solitary wandering stag (cerf) with a positive transformation of her beloved into a faithful servant (serf): “Oh, if that splash could have the effect /Of transforming him into Actaeon!/ Not, however, that he be leapt upon /As a stag — killed and devoured by his own hounds,/But that he feel, through me, within those bounds, /So changed — like a dear and loyal servant — And hold that conviction in thought so fervent . . ..” (Poem 43, ll. 28–33). This illustration of just one set of the many elegantly articulated intertextual re-creations in Pernette du Guillet’s Complete Poems indicates the possibilities this volume holds for the fields of early modern literature, history, culture, and gender studies and confirms the current bilingual edi- tion as a major contribution to the ongoing rediscovery of a Renaissance woman poet who at last is receiving her full due. Deborah Lesko Baker Georgetown University The Cambridge Companion to Early Modern Women’s Writing. Ed. Laura Lunger Knoppers. New York: Cambridge University Press, 2009. 306 pp. $29.99. ISBN 978–0–521–17242–2. Edited by Laura Knoppers, this collection of essays forms the latest addi- tion to the Cambridge Companion series, a survey collection on English women’s writing between approximately 1500 and 1700. The volume is both a valuable teaching tool and an impressive contribution to the study of gender and literary history. Its chief achievement is a new and expansive definition of authorship — including anonymous, professional, collective, EMWJ_6_For11.indb 290 6/27/11 4:05:51 PM 
work_4jdcjrygnbh4rdhxbxalq6xa2i	----	WOMEN WHO FLY: AERIALISTS IN MODERNITY (1880-1930) by BIEKE GILS M.A., University of Windsor, 2009 M.A., Katholieke Universiteit Leuven, 2006 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES (Kinesiology) THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver) November 2013 © Bieke Gils, 2013 ii ABSTRACT Around 1900, Charmion (alias Laverie Vallée) introduced a provocative ‘trapeze disrobing act,’ combined with feats of strength to her audiences in vaudeville theaters in New York. She was one of a wave of female aerialists whose performances quite literally ‘flew’ in the face of Victorian values. Trapeze artists in circuses and in vaudeville theaters, as well as stunt flying aviators showcasing their courage and abilities during local fairs or aerial exhibitions from the 1910s on, indeed pushed the boundaries of what was deemed possible in terms of the human body’s physical capacities while challenging traditional notions of gender, race, class, and sexuality through their unconventional performances. In this study I explore three cases of aerialists who navigated both the demands of managers/spectators for spectacular and titillating acts and their personal aspirations within the confines of the increasingly capitalist entertainment industries in the West between 1880 and 1930. Besides Charmion, my study takes shape around the performances of “Barbette” or Vander Clyde who took Parisian theaters by storm with an amalgamation of trapeze artistry and female impersonation in interwar France; and Bessie Coleman, the first African American woman to gain a pilot license and to set up her own flying shows throughout the United States in the 1920s. For each case study I conducted exhaustive archival searches and analysed relevant newspaper articles, magazines, show reviews, photographs and silent film. I draw on Mikhail Bakhtin’s concepts of the carnivalesque and the grotesque, and on Victor Turner’s concept of liminality to illustrate how aerial performances between 1880 and 1930 functioned as sites of creative resistance, opening up possibilities for a rethinking and redefinition of social categories of gender, race, class, and sexuality. I show how the performances of Charmion, Coleman and Barbette simultaneously reflected and challenged the iii anxieties and optimism of a society forced to revisit traditional beliefs regarding the gendered/racialized/classed/sexualized body. In demonstrating how these performers helped question modernizing beliefs regarding the human body’s capacities, and the female body’s physical abilities and appearance in particular, I argue they suggested new types of embodied agency for both women and men at the time. iv PREFACE A modified version of Chapter V has been published in Stadion in 2011. Bieke Gils. “‘The Only Race Aviatrix in the World’: A Tribute to Bessie Coleman (1892-1926),” Stadion 37 (2011): 55- 81. A modified version of Chapter III has been accepted for publication in the Journal of Sport History and will be published early on in 2014. Bieke Gils, “Flying, Flirting and Flexing,” Charmion’s Trapeze Act, Sexuality and Physical Culture at the Turn of the Twentieth Century,” Journal of Sport History (2014). v TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT ....................................................................................................................................... ii PREFACE ........................................................................................................................................ iv TABLE OF CONTENTS ......................................................................................................................v LIST OF IMAGES ............................................................................................................................ vii LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS ............................................................................................................. viii ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS .................................................................................................................. ix DEDICATION ....................................................................................................................................x Chapter I: Women Who Fly .........................................................................................................1 Introduction ................................................................................................................................. 1 Destabilizing Categories ............................................................................................................. 7 Contextualizing the Case Studies .............................................................................................. 10 Thesis Structure ........................................................................................................................ 21 Chapter II: Framing and Tracing the Aerial Body ..................................................................24 Framing ..................................................................................................................................... 24 Introducing Bakhtin .............................................................................................................. 24 Carnival and the Carnivalesque ....................................................................................... 27 The Grotesque Body .......................................................................................................... 29 Bakhtin and the Omission of Women’s Voices ................................................................. 34 Victor Turner and Liminality ................................................................................................ 39 Bakhtin, Turner, and Agency ................................................................................................ 42 Tracing ...................................................................................................................................... 46 Reconstructing the Aerial Body ............................................................................................ 50 Biographical Case Studies ................................................................................................ 52 Sources/Traces .................................................................................................................. 54 Searching for Charmion, Barbette, and Bessie Coleman ...................................................... 57 Searching for Charmion ................................................................................................... 58 Bringing Barbette to Light/Life ......................................................................................... 61 Commemorating Coleman ................................................................................................ 63 Chapter III: Flying, Flirting and Flexing: Charmion’s Trapeze Act, Sexuality, and Physical Culture at the Turn of the Twentieth Century .........................................................................66 Introduction ............................................................................................................................... 66 From Unabashed Burlesque to Respectable Vaudeville ........................................................... 70 Charmion the Parisian Sensation .............................................................................................. 74 A Woman with the Muscles of Sandow ................................................................................... 80 To View and Be Viewed ........................................................................................................... 86 Swinging Between Freedom and Constraint ............................................................................. 92 vi Chapter IV: Le Numéro Barbette: Destabilizing Gender on the High Wire, the Rings and the Flying Trapeze .......................................................................................................................94 Barbette Beginnings .................................................................................................................. 97 Paris Was the Experience… .................................................................................................... 102 Des Gens Ne Voient Dans les Spectacles Que Ce Qu’ils Sont ............................................... 103 Their Love-life is Even Sadder… ........................................................................................... 107 Une Eve Future ....................................................................................................................... 110 Un Hommage à La Femme ..................................................................................................... 113 Life after 1938 ......................................................................................................................... 117 Chapter V: Bessie Coleman: “The Only Race Aviatrix in the World” ................................121 Introduction ............................................................................................................................. 121 The Winged Gospel’s Female Missionaries ........................................................................... 126 Dreams of Flight ..................................................................................................................... 132 On a Mission to France ........................................................................................................... 137 Missionary, Entrepreneur, Entertainer .................................................................................... 141 The Sky is the Limit for Queen Bess ...................................................................................... 151 Conclusion .............................................................................................................................. 155 Chapter VI: Conclusion ............................................................................................................157 Contributions ........................................................................................................................... 165 Future Research ...................................................................................................................... 166 Bibliography ...............................................................................................................................174 vii LIST OF IMAGES Image 1: Charmion with feathered hat and fancy dress on the trapeze. Courtesy of the Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. ...................................................................................................................... 70 Image 2: Charmion flexing her right bicep. Courtesy of the Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. ........ 82 Image 3: Charmion posing provocatively without corset, circa 1898. Courtesy of the Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. ...................................................................................................................... 84 Image 4: Barbette prepares for his act. Courtesy of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. ..... 101 Image 5: Bessie Coleman’s French pilot license. Courtesy of the National Air and Space Museum, Smithsonian Institution. .............................................................................................. 140 Image 6: Bessie Coleman on the wheel of a Curtiss JN-4 “Jennie” circa 1924. Courtesy of the National Air and Space Museum, Smithsonian Institution. ........................................................ 151 viii LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS FAI: Féderation Aéronautique Internationale BNF: Bibliothèque Nationale de France UBC: University of British Columbia WASP: Women Airforce Service Pilots ix ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS This dissertation would not have been written if it was not for the help and support of many great individuals. I would like to express my sincere thanks to my supervisor, Patricia Vertinsky, whose guidance and dedication have been invaluable to the development of my research skills, critical thinking and confidence. I am also indebted to my committee members, Mona Gleason and Wendy Frisby for their excellent and constructive feedback on my writing and their support during the dissertation process. I am grateful for David Chapman’s guidance in pointing the way to source materials and his help interpreting them. Many thanks go to Fred Hume whose kind support and interest in my work in its early stages helped me gain confidence in my research project. Special thanks also go to my colleagues and close friends, Cathy Mills, Catherine Shankweiler, Marleen de Ruiter and Donna Lee whose astute advice on my work have been critical in my personal and professional development. I am greatly indebted to my partner Alexander Westbye whose encouragements and endless patience inspired me to finish this dissertation. I also wish to thank my close friends Nicole Ong, Iris Geenen, Gabriella Espino, Andrée Gacoin, Matt Dixon, Andrew Hill, Fred Vermote, Sotonye Godwin-Hart, Inge Derom, Jan Mertens, Rumana Monzur, Sarah Meli, Guillaume Lefèbvre, Abhijit Pandhari, Harrison Inefuku and Jiyoung Suh for their enduring moral support and for luring me away from my books to renew my energy. Last, but not least, the biggest ‘thank you’ goes to my parents, Bie and Hans, and my sisters, Sarah and Tinne, who have always unconditionally supported and encouraged my endeavours far away from home. x DEDICATION To my parents and sisters who encouraged me to spread my wings and take off 1 Chapter I: Women Who Fly Introduction On December 25, 1897, Laverie Vallée, better known by her stage name Charmion, made her debut in Koster and Bial’s vaudeville theater in New York City with a provocative undressing act on the trapeze. “A crowded house was present and nothing but the sensation which Charmion was expected to make was talked about,” a reporter of the New York Dramatic Mirror wrote. He continued: It had been whispered around that her act would be startling, and the photographs exhibited in the lobby seemed to give color to the rumor. When her number was put up the house was darkened, and opera glasses were put into use. Max Gabriel’s band struck up “On Broadway,” and a pretty woman walked out from the wings dressed in the latest fashion. With a Frenchy shrug of the shoulders she climbed the ladder and stepped into the net. A few steps brought her to the rope by which she was hoisted on the trapeze. She then attempted one or two tricks, but seemed to find her clothes a bother, so she began to unhook her waist. When she began to take it off she exhibited all the shyness of a timid girl. Finally the waist came off. Then she hung by her feet, and the skirts, etc., naturally fell down over her head, leaving a view of lace unmentionables, black stockings, purple garters, and a large amount of pink silk fleshing between the garters and her hips. This part of the exhibition was received with a mixture of laughter, applause and hisses. The next move was to stand on the trapeze and loosen the hampering skirts, unmentionables, etc., which were dropped in a bunch to the net below. She was then clad in a chemise, which she removed while hanging head downward. Then she sat on the trapeze and removed her buttoned shoes, garters and stockings. Her large hat was then thrown aside, and she was revealed in conventional costume of the female acrobat. Her work from this point on was certainly excellent, and she was applauded frequently. 1 Charmion was just one of a large number of aerialists around the turn of the twentieth century whose performances evoked both praise and criticism among audiences, critics, and moral reformers because they quite literally “flew in the face of Victorian values.” 2 Indeed, 1 New York Dramatic Mirror, December 25, 1897, 18. 2 Andrew L. Erdman, Blue Vaudeville: Sex, Morals and the Mass Marketing of Amusement, 1895–1915 (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co., 2004), 9, 115. Though the notion of ‘aerialists’ in its broadest definition may include various types of performers whose acts have aerial action in common, like ballooning, parachuting and even ski-jumping or 2 aerial acts by muscular women like Charmion were daring and hence questionable in light of both medical and popular views of the female body as passive, weak, nervous, and destined primarily to bear and raise children. Like many other female aerialists at the time, Charmion destabilized traditional notions of gender and femininity through aerial action. Trapeze artists in circuses and in vaudeville theaters, as well as stunt flying aviators showcasing their courage and abilities during local fairs or aerial exhibitions from the 1910s on, indeed pushed the boundaries of what was deemed possible in terms of the human body’s physical capacities while challenging traditional notions of gender, race, class and sexuality through their provocative and unconventional performances. In this study I explore individuals like Charmion, who navigated both the demands of managers/spectators for spectacular and titillating acts and their personal needs and aspirations within the confines of the increasingly capitalist entertainment industries in North America and Europe between 1880 and 1930. Besides Charmion, my study is shaped around the performances of American born “Barbette” or Vander Clyde (1904–1973), 3 who took Parisian theaters and circuses by storm with a clever amalgamation of trapeze artistry and female impersonation in interwar France, as well as aviator Elisabeth, or “Bessie” Coleman (1892–1926), the first African American woman to gain a pilot license and to set up her own flying shows throughout the United States in the 1920s. In some respects the grouping of these performers in my study can be viewed as a ‘collective biography.’ As Cowman points out, collective biographies usually focus on individuals who are involved in/affected by similar structures, networks and ideologies, or who diving for example, in this study I focus on aerialists who performed on the trapeze or flew airplanes between 1880 and 1930 in North American and European contexts. 3 Controversy exists about his exact year of birth. Several sources quote 1899 instead of 1904. 3 are connected through family relations, métier, and/or politics. The individuals in my study were certainly affected by similar structures and bodily ideologies and were “linked by a theme rather than intertwined through deep personal connections.” 4 Indeed, it is unlikely that the individuals in my study ever met each other, but they did share a common interest (theme) in aerial performance. Charmion, Barbette, and Coleman are three examples of performers who took advantage of the opportunities offered by the booming entertainment industries in the United States and Europe between 1880 and 1930. Industrialisation at the end of the nineteenth century, accompanied by a rise in urbanisation and overall leisure time, had contributed to a growing demand for, and consequent expansion and commercialization of entertainment in many cities in the West. Circuses, theaters, music halls, casinos, and nickelodeon movie houses proliferated, providing the swelling group of male and female consumers with a series of new forms of cheap leisure and entertainment. 5 Such forms also provided new employment opportunities for aspiring dancers, singers, comedians, acrobats and aerialists like Charmion, Barbette, and Coleman. The life stories and careers of these three performers were different and unique, but also had much in common. As previously mentioned, they shared an interest in aerial activities and, each in their own ways, destabilized traditional notions regarding the gendered, racialized, classed, and sexualized body through their daring and provocative performances that involved the artful and skillful combination of technology (flying through the air on a trapeze or in an airplane) and the body. Barbette, Coleman and Charmion were performers who engaged in different forms of aerial acrobatics: Charmion displayed her physical prowess on the static 4 Krista Cowman, “Collective Biography,” in Research Methods for History, ed. Simon Gunn and Lucy Faire (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2012), 91. 5 Kathy Peiss, “Going Public: Women in Nineteenth-Century Cultural History,” American Literary History 3 (4) (1991): 824. 4 trapeze; Barbette engaged in tight rope walking and aerial tricks on the flying rings and flying trapeze; while Coleman executed stunts like loops, figure eights and parachute jumps with/from her airplane. Much of these performers’ popularity stemmed from their ability to combine femininity with physical prowess, technical skill, and risk. 6 The dangerous nature of aerial performances was certainly one reason for aerialists’ popularity among entertainment managers and spectators, and fatalities were not uncommon. Both trapeze and airplane accidents occurred frequently and many aerialists in fact died during their performances. Stunt flyer Bessie Coleman for example, died in an airplane accident in 1926. Lillian Leitzel, headline trapeze performer for the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus in the 1910s, died when she fell from a height in 1931. To survive in the physically demanding and financially competitive atmospheres of their trades, Charmion, Barbette, and Bessie Coleman also had to be business-minded and entrepreneurial. They had to be innovative in their performances and preferably be the first to execute tricks and stunts to be successful. They were relatively independent in their endeavours and had to play their cards well to gain financial support to keep their businesses (and themselves) alive. The trades of these performers also required them to be extremely mobile geographically. They travelled to various places in the world in pursuit of the most lucrative contracts and never 6 An early and historically significant example of the uproar women’s aerial performances could cause was the death of tightrope walker Selina Powell in 1863 in Ashton Park, Birmingham, England. Powell, according to the reporter in the Miner and Workman’s Advocate, was six months pregnant when she fell when the rope collapsed on which she was walking blindfolded. Her death, Assael notes, sparked a nationwide outcry against “dangerous performances” and unleashed debates between moral reformers, who were opposed to dangerous and unrespectable performances like that of Powell, and managers and artists who supported “free trade and fair play.” 6 In England, such accidents paved the way for the Dangerous Performance Act in 1879, targeted at children under the age of fourteen and women engaged in certain kinds of gymnastics and high-wire acts in circuses and theaters. See the Miner and Workman’s Advocate, “Shocking Death of the Female Blondin,” July 25, 1863; Brenda Assael, The Circus and Victorian Society (Charlottesville and London: University of Virginia Press, 2005), 108; Helen Stoddart, Rings of Desire: Circus History and Representation (UK: Manchester University Press, 2000), 172. 5 remained in the same place for a long time. Though it was necessary for aerial performers to travel extensively, it also gave their profession a free and hedonistic allure, as Le Roux and Garnier pointed out in 1890: Earth contains no guests more free than these [wo]men… Lords of their own will and time, they obey no laws except the terms of their voluntary engagements. They fly from war, pestilencae, and ruin. When the heavens darken, they strap up their trunks, go on board a steamer and journey to other countries where gaiety and gold are to be found.” 7 The idea of travelling performers embodying an ideal of freedom can also be found in Brown’s conceptualization of Charles Baudelaire’s ‘flâneur.’ 8 Baudelaire’s flâneur originally referred to the well-to-do male city dweller who strolled in the city to both see and be seen, while staying anonymous amongst the moving crowds of people. “The flaneur,” Small notes, “was an urban observer whose eyes and feet were mobilized in the delineated spaces of the city to take in the expressions of contemporaneity around him. He was typically male, of the middle class, and inevitably white.” 9 Although this flâneur mentality, associated with a seemingly new kind of urban freedom and mobility in modernity, is not generally associated with women, it does provide one useful way of describing female performers’ presence in the city at the end of the nineteenth and early twentieth century. 10 The notion of the “female flâneur” can be seen in the existence of the performer as a traveler or ‘drifter,’ going from city to city, country to country to perform. Aerialists like Charmion, Bessie Coleman, and Barbette indeed seemed to go wherever they pleased and embodied a kind of freedom out or reach of most women, and even men, at the 7 Hugues Le Roux and Jules Garnier, Acrobats and Mountebanks (translated from French by A.P. Morton) (London: Chapman and Hall, Limited, 1890), 3. 8 Jayna Brown, Babylon Girls: Black Women Performers and the Shaping of the Modern (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2008), 17. 9 James Smalls, “ “Race” As Spectacle in Late Nineteenth-Century French Art and Popular Culture,” French Historical Studies 26 (2) (2003): 355. 10 See also Janet Wolff, “The Invisible Flâneuse: Women and the Literature of Modernity,” Theory, Culture and Society 2 (3) (1985): 37-46. 6 time. All three performers travelled throughout the United States and Europe and their flamboyant personalities - in the case of Charmion and Barbette evidenced by glamorous pictures and movies - gave them the free and hedonistic allure Le Roux and Garnier wrote about. In reality, this appearance of freedom was sustained by misconception, and the actual freedom of aerial performers had its limits. To view aerialists as fantastic performers who defied all scientific and social laws to embody ultimate freedom and emancipation, was to ignore the many hours of training and dedication their performances required. Indeed, the aerial body was in most cases a well-rehearsed one. Assael points out, on the one hand, that the female aerialist was “emblematic of nineteenth-century individualism, liberated from the industrial world of the machine, particular and irreplaceable.” 11 In addition, as noted earlier, aerialists not only possessed unique physical prowess, they were also business-minded, a requirement to survive in the hard and competitive entertainment circuit. On the other hand, Assael notes that their seemingly liberated bodies were dependent on new technologies, and that they had to adhere to a strict discipline in rehearsal, performance, and business-related tasks like securing and maintaining engagements. Aerialists thus contributed to a “perfect assembly line of production.” While on the surface they may have appeared unique and autonomous, in reality they were also disciplined and part of an organic whole. 12 Similarly, in the context of circus Stoddart points out: There is … a congruence between the presentation of the female aerialist’s body and the image that the circus as a whole has presented of itself. … the circus … promotes an idea of itself in the popular imagination as embodying a lifestyle unfettered by conventionality or by social and legal restraint; a freedom which was echoed in performances which foregrounded the illusion of ease. Behind the image lie levels of physical discipline, bodily regulation and hardship which are unrivalled by any other western performance art. 13 11 Assael, The Circus and Victorian Society, 7. 12 Ibid., 5. 13 Stoddart, Rings of Desire, 175. 7 Destabilizing Categories Associations of aerial performers with unrestricted freedoms were also a function of their seeming ability to blur social categories of gender, race, class and sexuality. By 1931, French screenwriter Pierre Bost had already noted that the identities of aerialists were becoming indistinct and seemingly suspended while in the air. Having watched a performance of flying trapeze artists, he wrote: … l’éloignement même des voltigeurs, sous la coupole du cirque, au-delà du filet, contribue à les isoler comme dans un autre monde, ou ils développent leur puissance librement, on dirait presque sans s’occuper du public. Nous distinguons mal leurs visages; l’étroitesse de la plate-forme ou ils se posent, ne leur permet pas les saluts et révérences; est c’est toujours de très bas que leur arrivent les applaudissements. 14 … the distance of aerialists, under the big circus top and above the net, isolates them as if in a different world, where they develop their power freely, one could say almost without taking note of the audience. We cannot distinguish their faces very well; the narrowness of the platform where they stand, does not allow for salutations and bows; and it is always very far down that that applause is given. 15 The view that aerialists performed ‘in a different world’ and that their gender identities seemed to fade while in the air has been more recently elaborated on by aerial historians Peta Tait and Helen Stoddart. According to Tait, the female aerialist at the turn of the twentieth century “transgressed the fixed order of gender behavior imposed on social bodies.” While destabilizing limits to the actions and movements of the physical body, she also “rearranged cultural categories of the feminine body.” 16 Similarly, Helen Stoddart writes that “[t]he aerialist constructs and operates within a fantasy space in which the body is at once made insubstantial and unclassifiable and is thereby liberated from the limitations normally attached to bodies 14 Pierre Bost, Le Cirque et le Music-Hall (Paris: Au Sans Pareil, 1931), 124. 15 Author’s own translation. 16 Peta Tait, “Feminine Free Fall: A Fantasy of Freedom,” Theatre Journal 48 (1996): 30. 8 physically marked out in terms of their gender or race.” 17 In other words, “the success of aerial performance was a response to a social desire for a physical state which falls away from social categories.” 18 The view that aerial performances were capable of rendering traditional social and physical categories of the body temporarily insignificant and/or indistinguishable is also at the core of my analyses of Barbette, Charmion, and Coleman. To add more depth to my case studies, I draw on Mikhail Bakhtin’s (1895–1975) concepts of the carnivalesque and the grotesque and on the liminality concept of Victor Turner (1920–1983), in order to examine how aerial performances functioned as sites of creative resistance, opening up possibilities for a rethinking and redefinition of social categories of gender, race, class, and sexuality. In my study, I argue that the festive carnivalesque or liminal atmosphere, generally associated with circuses, vaudeville theatres, and airplane exhibition grounds, softened the provocative and risky nature of aerial performances and provided aerialists platforms from which they could challenge social categories without too much criticism. Following Bakhtin and circus historian Bouissac, my argument is based on the notion that popular entertainment between 1880 and 1930 was central to an interrogation of discourses regarding the gendered/sexualized/racialized/classed body and its (physical) abilities. While aerial performances, at first sight, may have seemed “socially peripheral” because of their associations with magic and fantasy, I suggest that they were in fact at the heart of North American and European culture and society between 1880 and 1930. 19 17 Stoddart, Rings of Desire, 175. 18 Tait, “Feminine Free Fall,” 34. 19 Paul Bouissac, Circus and Culture. A Semiotic Approach (Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press, 1976), 9; Peter Stallybrass, and Allon White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1986), 5. 9 Aerial performers like Charmion, Barbette, and Coleman created a spectrum of possible interpretations in terms of the abilities of women, decency, sexuality, and so on. Each of them defied gravity in spectacular ways which also seemed to suspend restrictive social categorizations. Female trapeze acrobats like Charmion were as muscular as some of their male counterparts, yet presented themselves as feminine in tights and revealing costumes. Female aviators like Coleman wore manly leather flying jackets with flying cap and goggles covering their hair, masking gendered and racialized categories of the body. Female impersonator Barbette quite literally ‘flew in-between’ genders, playing with categories of feminine grace and male muscularity. More generally, flying speed, when combined with the distance between aerial performers and their audiences, smoothed out gendered and racial physical characteristics, making the aerial body seem unreal and non-human. The view of the aerial body as ‘non-human’ oscillated between superhuman and freakish or grotesque. This was also a point where meanings associated with the female and male aerialist seemed to diverge. Muscular and virile male aerialists, including trapeze flyers and aviators, were often described by bird- and god-like metaphors, perceived as real-life demonstrations of scientific progress, and even notions of Darwinian evolution. 20 While the female aerial body was not devoid of associations pertaining to progress, it was certainly read in different ways. On the one hand, female aerialists embodied the ideal, perfectly fit, and healthy looking ‘New Woman’ 21 and an example of what all women should strive for. Indeed, physically strong trapeze artists like Charmion, for example, were able to justify their unusual competence and muscular 20 Peta Tait, Circus Bodies. Cultural Identity in Aerial Performance (London and New York: Routledge, 2005), 3; See also Jane R. Goodall, Performance and Evolution in the Age of Darwin (London and New York: Routledge, 2002). 21 See Janet M. Davis, Culture and Society Under the American Big Top. The Circus Age (Chapel Hill and London: The University of North Carolina Press, 2002), 82-3. http://webcat2.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Circus%20bodies&searchCode=TALL&searchType=1 10 build in light of the increasing popularity of gymnastic schools for “ladies and girls” 22 and the ‘physical culture craze’ in North America and Europe. 23 Towards the end of the nineteenth century an increasing number of women were practicing gymnastics and engaging in sport activities. 24 Yet, while functioning as role-models, female aerialists seemed ambiguous and threatening because they transgressed and confused traditional notions of the female body. They appeared both “available and resistant” to the impositions of social categories of gender and femininity, 25 and thus literally ‘flew in-between’ strict social prescriptions regarding the active female body. Contextualizing the Case Studies Events at the turn of the twentieth century offer a rich arena and a fertile starting point for my analyses of the aerial performances of Barbette, Coleman, and Charmion. These performers operated in different socio-geographical contexts and time frames and each represented different aspects of a modernizing era. The booming entertainment industries, with the performing body at their center, were emblematic of the social and cultural shifts that characterized American and European societies at the time. Indeed, as Vertinsky points out, “[i]n the leap from the nineteenth 22 Assael, The Circus and Victorian Society, 135. Emphasis hers; “Muscular womanliness,” Tait writes, “had to be framed in ways that acknowledged impressive physiques while avoiding any obvious implication for transforming everyday relationships.” See Tait, Circus Bodies, 34. 23 See for example Michael Anton Budd, The Sculpture Machine. Physical Culture and Body Politics in the Age of Empire (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan Press LTD, 1997); David L. Chapman, Sandow the Magnificent: Eugen Sandow and the Beginnings of Bodybuilding (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1994). 24 Susanna Hedenborg and Gertrud Pfister, “Ecuyères and “Doing Gender.” Presenting Femininity in a Male Domain – Female Circus Riders 1800-1920,” Scandinavian Sport Studies Forum 3 (2012), 34. 25 Tait, “Feminine Free Fall,” 33. 11 to the twentieth century bodily practices were a potent barometer of cultural transition…” 26 The aerial body especially seemed to reflect much of the anxieties of these societies in transition. As Showalter indicates, the turn of the twentieth century, often referred to as the onset of a modern époque or ‘modernity,’ 27 was a socially and culturally turbulent period, full of both social optimism and anxieties about the potential crumbling of traditional values pertaining to race, class, gender, and sexuality. 28 Moreover, an increased emphasis on scientific rationalization, new inventions like electricity, automobile, airplane, cinema, etc., and an apparent desire for more ‘liberated’ and eclectic forms of art, music, and fashion were representative of this “complex passage from Victorian culture to modernism.” 29 Profound changes around the turn of the twentieth century stemmed (among others things) from shifting definitions of what it meant to be a woman or man. Long-held beliefs about what constituted appropriate female and male sexual identity and behaviour started to falter. The terms ‘feminism’ and ‘homosexuality’ were coined at this time and definitions of what and who was considered sexually deviant (e.g., strippers, prostitutes) gave rise to a number of purity campaigns and increased restrictive legislations and censorship. 30 The turn of the twentieth century was perceived of as a period out of control: a time of anarchy and profound cultural 26 Patricia Vertinsky, “Ida Rubinstein: Dancing Decadence and the ‘Art of the Beautiful Pose,’ ” Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women's Studies & Gender Issues (forthcoming). 27 Though, as Wolff points out, any attempt to date the onset of modernity is arbitrary, the modern period is typically defined in terms of accelerated urbanization and transformations in work, housing and social relations brought about by the rise of industrial capitalism. Wolff, “The Invisible Flâneuse,” 38. 28 Elaine Showalter, e a Anarch ender and t re at the in de i c e (New York: Viking, 1990), 2. 29 Kathy Peiss, Cheap Amusements. Working Women and Leisure in Turn-of- the-Century New York (Philadelphia, NY: Temple University Press, 1986), 6. 30 See also John H. Houchin, Censorship of the American Theatre in the Twentieth Century (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2003). 12 insecurity. Not surprisingly, these social uncertainties intensified a desperate longing for control over everything that seemed to destabilize familiar cultural values and beliefs. 31 A particular need for control was manifested around the issues of sexuality and gender. According to Foucault, ‘sex’ became an object of regulation and control. Rooted in eighteenth century Christianity that “tended to make the flesh into the root of all evil,” 32 the turn of the twentieth century invested the body with scientific and medicalized discourses that attempted to regulate and control appropriate sexual behaviour for men, and especially for women. Sex and sexuality no longer referred solely to male and female biological characteristics, they had become cultural constructions, powerful discursive tools. 33 As Smith-Rosenberg notes, the turn of the twentieth century was a “golden age of scientific determinism, of social Darwinism and eugenics.” 34 Indeed, not only did sex and gender become objects of scientific scrutiny and regulation, racial differences too were now explained in terms of ‘scientifically proven’ white supremacy notions by the eugenics movement. In scientists’ search for control and attempts to establish the boundaries of ‘normal’ human sexual behaviour, sexuality became an object of intense study and classification. These scientists or ‘sexologists,’ Smith-Rosenberg explains, organized “specific sexual acts, fantasies, fetishes, sensations” according to taxonomies that helped them chart degrees of abnormality and perversion. 35 The body was believed to be a closed energy system and women especially were warned to be careful not to waste this energy on intellectual labour and physical activity. According to 31 Showalter, Sexual Anarchy 3, 4. 32 Michel Foucault, The History of Sexuality. Volume I: An Introduction. Trans. Robert Hurley (New York: Vintage Books Random House, 1980), 19. 33 Ibid., 11. 34 See Carroll Smith-Rosenberg, Disorderly Conduct: Visions of Gender in Victorian America (New York: A.A. Knopf, 1985), 267. See also Patricia Vertinksy, The Eternally Wounded Woman: Women, Doctors, and Exercise in the Late Nineteenth Century (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1994). 35 Smith-Rosenberg, Disorderly Conduct, 267-68. http://webcat1.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Smith-Rosenberg,%20Carroll.&searchCode=NAME&searchType=4 http://webcat1.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=The%20eternally%20wounded%20woman%20:&searchCode=TALL&searchType=1 http://webcat1.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=The%20eternally%20wounded%20woman%20:&searchCode=TALL&searchType=1 http://webcat1.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Smith-Rosenberg,%20Carroll.&searchCode=NAME&searchType=4 13 medical beliefs, they had to use this energy to bear children and take care of husband and family. Scientists warned that women who did not marry and comply with heterosexual family values risked becoming mentally ill and hysterical. 36 Indeed, unmarried women who undermined the established system of Victorian sexuality and gender roles were often associated with hysteria. The fear was that they embodied women’s potential for increased power and rights. 37 University-educated and sexually independent ‘New Women’ seemed to pose a threat as they criticized the insistence of society on marriage as a woman’s only option for a fulfilling life, and many of them joined the proliferating women’s colleges in search of education and independence. The New Woman was feared because she threatened to become man’s equal in education, art, and the home. 38 This ‘New’ or ‘Modern Woman’ clearly violated normal gender categories. By blurring male-female boundaries she became viewed as the embodiment of social disorder. 39 Anxieties about men turning into women and women into men, and the effects of this on societal order, were exaggerated and out of proportion. Women may have been able to redefine social categories pertaining to sexuality and gender, but they did not turn around the established patriarchal order. The transition from the nineteenth to the twentieth century may thus not have been as anarchical as many believed, but rather, as Showalter notes, “the embryonic stirring of a new order.” 40 The seemingly blurred gender boundaries in the late nineteenth century went hand-in- hand with anxieties about women venturing out from the privacy of their homes into the public sphere. Women began to enter the realms of politics, education, labour, and commerce, which, 36 Showalter, Sexual Anarchy, 10; Smith-Rosenberg, Disorderly Conduct, 199-215, 262. 37 Showalter, Sexual Anarchy, 19, 23. 38 Ibid., 38; Smith-Rosenberg, Disorderly Conduct, 245, 247, 254. 39 Ibid., 265. 40 Showalter, Sexual Anarchy, 18. 14 for a long time, had been mostly male bastions. Leisure time expanded and so did recreational possibilities in which women increasingly wanted to participate. 41 Despite anxieties about women stepping outside of the conventional private sphere, the desire of many women for economic independence helped them venture outside the home to make a living. Some of them started careers as entertainers in theaters, in circuses, or, later on, as actresses in movies. 42 Women who made a living in entertainment industries in North America and/or Europe at the time came from a wide variety of socio-economic backgrounds. Davis notes in her work on actresses in the Victorian era that female performers “were recruited from all classes of society,” that their “incomes spanned the highest upper middle-class salary and the lowest working-class wage,” which “made them anomalous among middle-class professionals.” 43 This was equally true for performers who sought employment in the North American and European entertainment industries in the end of the nineteenth and beginning of the twentieth century. In the case of aerialists like Charmion, Barbette, and Coleman, their salaries depended on the success and spectacularity of their acts. Their careers were often relatively short as a consequence of the intensely physical and dangerous nature of their professions. Their contracts ended when they were no longer capable of performing spectacular aerial routines, became injured, or lost their lives while performing. It is in the context of shifting notions of the gendered body and the purity campaigns at the turn of the twentieth century that the performances of Charmion should be understood. Her 41 Peiss, “Going Public,” 824. It needs to be stressed that the distinction between private and public could not as easily be made for black women. Like many black men, they typically worked outside of the home to provide for their families. 42 Angela Woollacott, “Female Performance Practice on the Fin-de-Siècle Popular Stages of London and Paris: Experiment and Advertisement; Babylon Girls: Black Women Performers and the Shaping of the Modern,” Women’s History Review 20 (1) (2011): 174. 43 Tracy Davis, Actresses as Working Women. Their Social Identity in Victorian Culture (London: Routledge, 1991), 3. 15 popularity coincided with the image and activities of the aforementioned ‘New Woman’ and women’s suffrage movements in North America and Europe. While each of these women, in their own way, strove for women’s progress and emancipation, female performers like Charmion were often less likely to be seen as a threat to patriarchal values because they operated in a presumably imaginary and fantastic realm. Also, despite apparent similarities between these women, female performers were less likely to have been believed to have political motives of some kind. 44 Instead, as Woolacott points out, their performances, creativity, and bodily display took them into the spotlights and on transnational tours. Their performances were crucial vehicles “through which women shaped racialized and gendered conceptions, and indeed modernity itself.” 45 Charmion, born in Sacramento, California in 1875, performed primarily in vaudeville theaters in the United States, though she also toured Europe, including England, France and Germany. Her career as an aerialist spanned the years of 1897 and 1910, and her early performances took place in what Davis calls “the Naughty Nineties,” a “decade punctuated by successive conservative backlashes against liberalism in sexual and political realms.” 46 Indeed, and as mentioned earlier, sexually titillating performances like those of Charmion were often hot topics of debate among authority figures and moral reformers, sometimes leading to their removal from theater bills because of their supposedly indecent and immoral nature. In Charmion’s case study, I discuss this push-and-pull between performers, their managers, and moral reformers over sexually transgressive acts, and how Charmion negotiated 44 See Catherine Hindson, Female Performance Practice on the Fin-de-Siècle Popular Stages of London and Paris (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2007), 40. 45 Woollacott, “Female Performance Practice,” 174. 46 Tracy C. Davis, “Sex in Public Places: The Zaeo Aquarium Scandal and the Victorian Moral Majority,” Theatre History Studies X (1990): 12. 16 such tensions. I also suggest that unconventional performances of gender and sexuality like those of Charmion helped redefine traditional attitudes towards the female body and its physical capacities. What is also significant in Charmion’s case is that she made good use of the developing photography and print industries to promote her act. Not only did she distribute pins and so-called cartes de visite with her alluring image to her audiences, 47 she also agreed to be filmed while performing her disrobing act and so became the subject of one of Thomas Edison’s early movies around 1901. While photography and cinema at the turn of the twentieth century were lucrative means for performers and their managers to promote their acts and programs, in my study of Charmion, I illustrate how they also contributed to an objectification of the female body as a sexual commodity. Two years after Charmion had left the entertainment industry in the United States, Barbette made his debut as a circus trapeze performer. Though initially not well known, around 1922 he started to develop his own solo act in which he executed tricks on the high wire, the rings, and the flying trapeze in vaudeville theatres while dressed as a woman and began to receive more newspaper coverage. While Barbette learned his acrobatic skills in the United States, it was in interwar Paris that he became very popular and was praised by a large number of French literary critics and artists like Jean Cocteau and Man Ray. His career as an aerialist ended when he was injured in 1938, though he carried on in his beloved profession as ‘aerial choreographer’ for various circuses in the United States. My study of Barbette is set against a background of postwar anxieties in France. It was believed that the atrocities inflicted by World War I on the bodies of male soldiers had weakened 47 Robert C. Allen, Horrible Prettiness. Burlesque and American Culture (Chapel Hill and London: The University of North Carolina Press, 1991), 270. These were postcards with performers’ professional pictures. 17 the French race, and the country as a whole. Barbette’s female impersonation act was particularly timely and daring in light of fears of this so-called ‘emasculation’ or ‘feminization’ of men, certainly because cross-dressing also signified homosexuality. 48 Homosexuality in interwar France had a rather ambiguous status. On the one hand, it was suppressed and seen as a sign of weakness, while on the other hand, it flourished underground and in the works of homosexual artists like Jean Cocteau. 49 It was Cocteau who, quite literally, fell in love with Barbette and brought him fame by raving about his gender-ambiguous act. Cocteau’s praise was soon followed by a large number of reviews by French art critics who commented on the beauty of Barbette’s act and the ingenuity of his gender transformation. I suggest that Barbette’s performance both embodied and played upon contemporary anxieties about the degeneration of the French race in a postwar context. His case study also illustrates the fluidity and changeable characteristics of the meanings of gender and sexuality during this time. Barbette’s success as a female impersonator was, among many other things, the result of the opportunities offered by the entertainment industries in Paris, where audiences seemed more receptive to unconventional gender-bending performances than those in the United States. Entertainment in Paris also seemed to be recognized as more central to the fabric of society than in the United States, where it was seen more as a form of ‘low’ culture. In fact, both trapeze flying and aviation had their roots in France. It was the young Jules Léotard who had started to experiment with trapezes in his father’s gymnasium and became credited with inventing trapeze flying when he performed in public in the 1860s. 50 48 Tait, Circus Bodies, 75. 49 See for example Mary Louise Roberts, Civilization Without Sexes. Reconstructing Gender in Postwar France, 1917-1927 (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 8, 15. 50 Galignant, “A Very Extraordinary Performance,” Spirit of the Times; A Chronicle of the Turf, Agriculture, Field Sports, Literature and the Stage, Jan 21, 1860, 29, 50. 18 Like Barbette, who owed a large extent of his success to the artistic atmosphere of Paris, Bessie Coleman must also be understood in the context of the increased interest of women in aviation in the 1920s, the pioneering role of France in this industry and its welcoming attitudes towards black individuals at the time. While the Wright brothers were credited for making the first successful powered flight at Kitty Hawk, North Carolina in 1903, French inventors had also been experimenting with aircraft alongside their colleagues in America and other aviation enthusiasts in Europe. It was in 1905 in France that the first organization in charge of aviation guidelines was established: the Féderation Aéronautique Internationale (FAI). 51 The first woman credited to fly an airplane and gain a pilot license in 1910 was French Raymonde de Laroche (1882–1919). Many other French aviation pioneers, including Louis Blériot (1872– 1936), the first aviator to fly across the English Channel in 1909, and Henry Farman (1874– 1958), would produce commercial aircraft that were known for their good quality and used by leading aviators of the time. 52 Bessie Coleman’s career took off around the same time Barbette debuted in Paris. Her interest in aviation came at a time when many male pilots, who began their careers during World War I, were out of jobs and performed airplane stunts and acrobatics for curious crowds to make a living. These ‘barnstormers,’ as they were called, were mostly men, though many women were involved both as aviators and as aerial acrobats. They performed acrobatics on the wings of planes while in flight, or while hanging on a trapeze or ladder from the underside of the aircraft. 51 The Féderation Aéronautique Internationale, established in France in 1905, was the official organization that mandated the first air safety guidelines in 1910 for France, the United States and sixteen member nations. It still exists today and governs the eligibility guidelines for acquisition of an international license, and validates flying records. See Freydberg, Elizabeth Amelia Hadley, Bessie Coleman. The Brownskin Lady Bird (New York: Garland Publishing, Inc., 1994), 82. 52 For more information on the history of aviation in France (as well as the close connections between French and Belgian aviators and industries), see for example my earlier work: Ameye Thomas, Bieke Gils and Pascal Delheye, “Belgian Pioneers in Rally Racing and Aerial Sports during the Belle Époque,” The International Journal for the History of Sport 28 (2) (2011): 205-39. 19 Lillian Boyer (1901–1989), for example, was a wing walker who executed daring stunts on flying aircraft, as well as automobile-to-plane transfers and parachute jumps in the 1920s. 53 While Bessie Coleman did not seem to have engaged in wing walking, she performed figure eights and loops with her plane and occasionally executed parachute jumps. It is in the context of stunt flying in the 1920s that Coleman’s aviation career also needs to be understood. Coleman would become the first black female aviator, though not without the necessary challenges. When she could not find a flying school in the United States that would accept her as a student, she turned to France. It was in June 1921 that she received her pilot license from the FAI after passing her exam at a flying school in Le Crotoy. Though newspapers indicated that while in Europe she flew in France, Germany, and Switzerland (among other countries), her major aerial exhibitions took place in various locations in the United States. Coleman died under controversial circumstances in an airplane accident in 1926. Coleman’s case must be viewed in light of racial segregation/discrimination in the United States, the booming aviation industry in the West, and France’s more welcoming attitude towards black Americans, enabling a small number of individuals like her to gain a foothold and make a living in the entertainment industry. Paris in the 1920s was a major hub for art and entertainment and often associated with “colour-blindness.” 54 Many of the large numbers of black soldiers the United States had sent during World War I (especially in 1917 and 1918), had remained in France after the war because of violent racism in their home country. Instead of the greater acceptance they had hoped for upon returning home given their contributions to the military, tensions between blacks and whites in America escalated in 1919 and gave way to what 53 See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMDDCnHUo3c for video footage of Boyer’s wing walking stunts [accessed June 30, 2013]. 54 See For example Karen C. C. Dalton and Henry L. Gates, Jr., “Josephine Baker and Paul Colin: African American Dance Seen through Parisian Eyes, Critical Inquiry 24 (4) (1998): 903-34. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PMDDCnHUo3c 20 was called ‘the Red Summer,’ a period of massive riots in many cities. According to Stovall, these postwar riots, as well as an upsurge in lynching, were mostly instigated by white vigilantes who feared the (presumably) newly assertive black population. These and other incidents reinforced the belief of many black Americans in the contrast between a tolerant France and a racist United States and contributed to the rise of a black expatriate community in interwar Paris. 55 While racial discrimination in Paris was not as obvious as in the United States, where segregation laws applied to most entertainment venues, interwar Paris was by no means as colourblind as many liked to believe. France’s tolerance of black Americans did not stem from a belief in racial equality, but mostly from racist views on black women and men as ‘born entertainers,’ and sexually available. As Stovall writes; “the vogue for blackness and colonialism so characteristic of interwar France, a vogue with a powerful sensual theme, tended to surround black American women and men with an allure of tropical sexuality.” 56 Also, the black expatriate community formed such as small minority that it was not perceived as a major danger to French notions of racial purity. 57 While entertainment was for the most part a segregated activity in the United States, during the 1910s and ’20s the lines between elite and mass culture became more ambiguous and people from different classes, races, and sexes began to interact in the public realm. 58 Interest in African American art, music, dance, and theater grew amongst the white population, and a system of patronage, which spurred the phenomenon of the ‘Harlem Renaissance,’ originated in 55 Tyler Stovall, “Gender, Race, and Miscegenation. African Americans in Jazz Age Paris,” in The Modern Woman Revisited. Paris Between the Wars, ed. Whitney Chadwick and Tirza True Latimer, 21-33 (New Brunswick, New Jersey, and London: Rutgers University Press, 2003), 23. 56 Ibid., 24-25. 57 Ibid., 24. 58 Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 25. 21 New York. 59 So, while black performers were excluded from many white entertainment venues, theater stages and other entertainment spaces became key sites for the expression of black female and male identities, the circulation of expressive forms, 60 and the intermingling of individuals from different racial backgrounds. It was this increasingly open attitude towards racial intermingling in the United States and the opportunities provided by the French aviation industry that helped Bessie Coleman establish her career. The case study of Coleman uncovers anxieties about black performers entering into a white field of endeavour. Analysis of the experiences of black individuals like Coleman demonstrates ways in which blacks negotiated discriminatory practices and sought out their personal aspirations in North American and European entertainment industries. It must be noted, however, that while there was a considerable group of white female aviators in the United States at the time, Coleman’s career was rather unique since she was the only black female aviator in the 1920s and does not seem to have interacted with other female aviators of her time. Thesis Structure In this chapter, I have sketched a preview to my study by providing insight into the socio- historical contexts in which the case studies of Charmion, Barbette, and Bessie Coleman must be understood. I have also referred to the concepts of Bakhtin and Turner - carnivalesque, the grotesque and liminality- that inform the theoretical framework of my study. In Chapter II, I elaborate on these concepts and point out intersections between Bakhtin and Turner’s thinking about the possible meanings and functions of carnivalesque or liminal spaces and illustrate how 59 Ibid., 5, 30. 60 Brown, Babylon Girls, 5. 22 these thinkers’ concepts can be applied to aerial performances. Complemented with current-day understandings about agency by authors like McNay and Butler, I illustrate how the ideas of Bakhtin and Turner regarding societies and bodies in a continuous process of ‘becoming’ provide useful insights for my study on the history of aerialists. In the second part of Chapter II, I provide insight into the methodological underpinnings of my thinking, emphasizing the importance of exploring categories like race, class, gender, and sexuality, both simultaneously and in relation to one another, rather than separately. I discuss challenges faced when attempting to reconstruct and understand the life stories and motives of performers when they did not leave much of a trace, other than a few newspaper reviews, photographs, and in some cases, film footage. Biographical case studies, as I illustrate, provide nevertheless useful avenues for exploring the life and work of performers like Barbette, Coleman, and Charmion, even though my reconstructions of their careers and performances are incomplete and leave much to the imagination. At the end of the chapter, I address and reflect upon the specific source materials used for each performer’s analysis, setting the stage for the introduction of their case studies in Chapters III, IV, and V. In Chapter III, entitled “Flying, Flirting and Flexing: Charmion’s Trapeze Act, Sexuality, and Physical Culture at the Turn of the Twentieth Century,” I study Charmion’s career as trapeze artist and strongwoman, suggesting a reading of her controversial performances as both liberating and restricting of women’s agency at the time. Her clever use of the developing photography, print, and cinema industries contributed to her popularity as an icon of female health and beauty, though also encouraged an objectification of the female body as a sexual commodity. 23 Chapter IV, entitled “Le Numéro Barbette: Destabilizing Gender on the High Wire, the Rings, and the Flying Trapeze,” provides insight into Barbette’s controversial aerial performances as a female impersonator and suggests that his gender-bending acts allowed his spectators to imagine different gender possibilities without fear of repercussion. Indeed, since his performances took place in a carnivalesque/liminal atmosphere where, as Cocteau has noted, “truth ha[d] no currency,” and “anything natural ha[d] no value,” 61 his physically and socially daring performances were not immediately perceived as threatening, but were instead welcomed with much praise and applause. In Chapter V, “Bessie Coleman: “The Only Race Aviatrix in the World,” ”I have set Coleman’s story against a background of the booming aviation industries in the United States and Europe in the 1920s. I suggest that Coleman’s aerial performances on the intersection of changing gender, race, and class definitions were unique - though emblematic of African Americans’ struggle to enter aviation, a white field of endeavour. Coleman’s clever play with categories of racial and gendered identity was effective in establishing her career as a well- respected and skilled aviation pioneer. In my last concluding chapter, I revisit theoretical and contextual connections made throughout my study, while suggesting new avenues for future research. I draw parallels between my study and current events, in which I see aspects of my study reflected and suggest that the topic of aerial performances in the past as well as in the present leaves much more to be discovered and explored. 61 Jean Cocteau, “Le Numéro Barbette, ” Extrait de la Nouvelle Revue Française, July 1st (1926): 35-36. Translation by Francis Steegmuller. Francis Steegmuller, Cocteau A Biography (Boston, Toronto: Little, Brown and Company (1970): 366. 24 Chapter II: Framing and Tracing the Aerial Body Framing The flier momentarily acts out the desire of physical bodies to defy the gravity of social categories, before returning to familiar territory when he or she halts the free fall and reinstates gender identity and the material order of bodies. Physical bodies in circus are viewed within the spectator’s perception of physical freedoms which extend beyond social categories. Peta Tait, “Feminine Free Fall,” 33-34. The importance of performance and its centrality within culture, as advocated by Paul Bouissac in 1976, 1 has been explored by authors such as Mikhail Bakhtin (1895–1975) and Victor Turner (1920–1983). Both men were inspired by folklorist writers like François Rabelais (c.1494–1553) and Arnold Van Gennep (1973–1957) and their works were published around the same time. Turner’s book The Ritual Process: Structure and Antistructure (1969) appeared only one year after Bakhtin’s Rabelais and His World had been translated to English (1968). Bakhtin’s concept of the carnivalesque and Turner’s concept of liminality, as I will demonstrate, have much in common and are particularly appropriate for generating a more detailed understanding of the aerial performances discussed in my study. While these theorists did not explicitly address gender, race or sexuality in their works, I will show how their thinking nevertheless proves useful in analyzing the racialized/gendered/sexualized and/or classed aerial body between 1880 and 1930. Introducing Bakhtin Mikhail Bakhtin (1895–1975) was a Russian philosopher, literary critic, and novelist whose controversial work produced in the Soviet Union in the 1920s did not receive much 1 Paul Bouissac, Circus and Culture. A Semiotic Approach (Bloomington and London: Indiana University Press, 1976), 9. 25 attention until it was (re)discovered in the 1960s. His writing about carnival is known primarily through his book Rabelais and His World. In this work Bakhtin addresses ideas and writings of French Renaissance novelist François Rabelais (c. 1494–1553) and uses them to express his own dissatisfaction with the autocratic Russian regime in the 1920s and ’30s. That his book was not allowed to be published until 1965 2 was not surprising since it was believed to be “a hymn to the common man,” 3 an advocacy on behalf of the lower classes in society, a celebration of the unofficial, and a mocking of authority. As Holquist points out, Rabelais and His World was “an attempt to show the ways in which the Russian revolution had lost touch with its roots in the people and a valiant effort to bring the folk with its corrosive laughter back into the work of politics.…” 4 While Rabelais and His World was not translated into English until 1968, 5 Bakhtin’s ideas regarding carnival and the carnivalesque are now used widely in various academic disciplines, including medieval history, art, literature, and feminist studies. 6 The carnivalesque in Bakhtin’s work historically refers to the temporary suspension of social hierarchies, as was characteristic of medieval carnivals. During carnival, for example, the minstrels would typically mock the king. These inversions of polite society were accepted only within the confinements of a particular time and place (the period of carnival) and were not tolerated outside of that. In other words, society was expected to return to its original hierarchies 2 Michael Holquist, “Prologue,” In Mikhail Bakhtin, Rabelais and his World, xiii-xxiii (Bloomington, IN: Indiana Press, 1984), xxi 3 Ibid., xviii. 4 Ibid., xxii. 5 Krystyna Pomorksa, “Foreword,” In Mikhail Bakhtin, Rabelais and his World, vii-xii (Bloomington, IN: Indiana Press, 1984), vii. 6 I would also say that in the particular domains of sport and gender history/sociology, Bakhtin has yet to receive the attention he deserves. 26 and social conventions once the period of carnival was over. Carnival was thus associated with fantasy, though there was always the fear that this ‘utopian’ social model might become reality. 7 Underlying much of Bakhtin’s thinking is his concept of ‘dialogism.’ Simply stated, dialogism refers to the idea that it is only through dialogue or a sharing of texts (also often referred to as ‘intertextuality’ 8 ) — that knowledge can be generated and (re)shaped: 9 …we are actually dealing with someone else’s words more often than with our own. Either we remember and respond to someone else’s words … ; or we represent them in order to argue, disagree, or defend them … ; or finally, we carry on an inner dialogue, responding to someone’s words …. In each case someone else’s speech makes it possible to generate our own and thus becomes an indispensable factor in the creative power of language. 10 In other words, according to Bakhtin, we cannot exist outside of dialogical relations. It is through dialogue, be it speech, gestures, performances, symbols, or art that we understand and shape our reality. Dialogism also has another function: that of resisting authoritative discourses. Dialogism, Bakhtin argued, opposes authoritarian monologues that are characteristic of those in power in society. 11 Dialogue provides marginalized groups with a means through which dominant discourses can be challenged. Moreover, Bakhtin also pointed out that although those in authority often attempted to avoid association or dialogue with those in the ‘lower strata’ at all cost, this was virtually impossible. As Stallybrass and White explain, 7 See Neil Ravenscroft and Paul Gilchrist, “Spaces of Transgression: Governance, Discipline and Reworking the Carnivalesque,” Leisure Studies 28 (1) (2009): 45, 35-49. See also Peter Stallybrass and Allon White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1986). 8 The term intertextuality was coined by Julia Kristeva in the 1960s and derived from Bakhtin’s notion of dialogism and polyphony. See Joan W. Scott, “Feminist Reverberations,” A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies 13 (3) (2002): 14-15. 9 Kay Halasek, “Feminism and Bakhtin: Dialogic Reading in the Academy,” Rhetoric Society Quarterly 22 (1) (1992): 68. 10 Pomorksa,“Foreword,” ix. 11 Ibid., x. 27 the ‘top’ attempts to reject and eliminate the ‘bottom’ for reasons of prestige and status, only to discover, not only that it is in some way frequently dependent upon that low-Other… but also that the top includes that low symbolically, as a primary eroticized constituent of its own fantasy life. The result is a mobile, conflictual fusion of power, fear and desire in the construction of subjectivity: a psychological dependence upon precisely those Others which are being rigorously opposed and excluded at the social level. It is for this reason that what is socially peripheral is so frequently symbolically central…. This is evidenced by the history of representation of ‘low’ entertainment and the carnivalesque…” 12 Carnival and the Carnivalesque Carnival, a festive European tradition generally associated with the Middle Ages, was a period of time during which societal hierarchies were suspended or inverted, providing all social classes (at least in theory) with the opportunity to mingle and interact. Carnival provided a space for dialogue between high and low, a space where both could behave in ways that were not usually acceptable outside of the time of carnival. In addition, carnival provided a platform for marginalized classes to mock those in power and to suggest new possibilities in terms of the organization of society and its categories that were normally taken for granted. “As opposed to the official feast,” Bakhtin explained, the carnival celebrated temporary liberation from the prevailing truth and from the established order; it marked the suspension of all hierarchical rank, privileges, norms and prohibitions. Carnival was the true feast of time, the feast of becoming, change and renewal. It was hostile to all that was immortalized and completed. 13 The temporary suspension of hierarchies created a special kind of communication that was impossible in everyday life. Characteristic of this new way of communicating was “market place speech and gesture, frank and free, permitting no distance between those who came in contact 12 Stallybrass and White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression, 5-6. Italics are original. 13 Mikail Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World. Trans. Helene Iswolsky (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1984 (1968)), 10. 28 with each other and liberating from norms of etiquette and decency imposed at other times.” 14 The period of carnival meant “a second life, a second world of folk culture, … a parody of the extra-carnival life, a ‘world inside out.’ ” 15 A “world inside out” was also what the popular entertainment industries offered its audiences between 1880 and 1930. 16 Circuses, vaudeville theaters and open-air fairs were spaces in which people from diverse socioeconomic backgrounds could mingle and interact. These spaces were considered separate from everyday reality and were generally associated with fantasy. “Full of ambivalent laughter,” 17 these spaces permitted performers to mock the “official culture” 18 and criticize societal hierarchies and (constraining) ideologies. In one way, these spaces presented an ideal world, a utopia in which total freedom was permitted. 19 On the other hand, however, this sense of freedom was “accompanied by the fear that this potential subversion [of hierarchies] may be generalized,” 20 and thus be extended beyond the realm of the fantastic into everyday reality. According to Ravenscroft and Gilchrist, it is naïve to think of Bakhtin’s carnival as a space in which ‘total freedom’ was permitted. While this may have seemed the case, carnival, as well as popular entertainment in North America and Europe between 1880 and 1930, functioned more as a means for those in power to maintain control over practices that were considered deviant, than an actual celebration of unrestricted freedoms. Allowing deviant practices within 14 Ibid., 10. 15 Ibid., 12. 16 Of course parallels between the concept of the carnivalesque and today’s forms of popular entertainment (e.g. sport games, theater, ballet, ...), social ‘deviant’ festivities (e.g. Halloween), or social revolts (e.g. the 2013 Vancouver Winter Olympics riots) can be drawn and studied. 17 Mikhail Bakhtin, “Carnival and the Carnivalesque,” in Cultural Theory and Popular Culture. A Reader, ed. John Storey, 250-259 (London: Prentice Hall, 1994), 256. 18 Pomorksa, “Foreword,” x. 19 Stallybrass and White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression, 7. 20 Bouissac, Circus and Culture, 8. 29 well-defined spaces such as theaters, circuses and open-air fairs, provided spectators and performers with a sense of freedom. However, this freedom was indeed rather artificial because it seldom led to (political) change outside of the carnivalesque space. 21 Though entertainment venues offered platforms for transgressive behaviours, “the license to transgress” was always “a bounded license.” 22 In the context of this study, aerialists constantly had to balance their personal aspirations with societal norms in the ways in which they constructed their performances. If they wanted to be provocative, they had to be careful not to be too transgressive and ensure they worked within the existing ideological framework that stipulated ‘appropriate’ behaviour and performance. At the core of Bakhtin’s carnival is thus “a hegemonic struggle for the positioning and repositioning of moral codes,” 23 fuelled by a constant interplay and tension between transgressive and disciplinary practices. Such tensions also had to be negotiated by aerialists like Charmion, Barbette, and Coleman. The Grotesque Body Also central to Bakhtin’s work on the carnivalesque is his discussion of “grotesque realism” and more specifically, the grotesque body. The “bulging, over- or under-sized, protuberant and incomplete” 24 body, celebrated in Rabelais and His World, represented “the people” and stood in sharp contrast with the “classical,” “strictly completed, finished” body representing the bourgeois society. Unlike the grotesque body of the people, all signs of the classical body’s “unfinished character, of its growth and proliferation were eliminated; its 21 See Ibid., 37. 22 Ibid., 40- 41. 23 Ibid., 44. 24 Stallybrass and White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression, 9. 30 protuberances and offshoots were removed, its convexities … smoothed out, its apertures closed.” 25 Following Bakhtin's description, both female and male aerialists’ elegant and muscular bodies do not seem to fit within the category of the grotesque, but appear more aligned with the classical body ideal. Contemporary associations of the aerialist’s body with perfect muscularity and strength, physical health, and societal progress were indeed not uncommon, 26 especially where male aerialists were concerned. Male trapeze flyers and aviators between 1880 and 1930 embodied masculine virility in a time of strong anxieties about the seeming crumbling of the Victorian male-female binary and the ‘emasculation’ of men as a feared consequence. 27 In contrast, it was harder for female aerialists, and women in general, to escape associations with the grotesque. Since classical Greece, as Smith-Rosenberg argues, men had insisted that man represented the mind and woman the body, man the creative principle, woman the reproductive impulse, man the “heaven-born aspect of human nature, woman its earth-bound component.” 28 The similar Christian medieval view of the female body as earth-bound and defined by its unique reproductive capacities was also at the heart of Bakhtin's concept of the grotesque: “Downward” is earth, “upward” is heaven. Earth is an element that devours, swallows up (the grave, the womb) and at the same time an element of birth, of renascence (the maternal breasts) …. Grotesque realism knows no other level; it is the fruitful earth and the womb. It is always conceiving. 29 25 Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World, 29. 26 Peta Tait, Circus Bodies. Cultural Identity in Aerial Performance (London and New York: Routledge, 2005), 3. 27 See for example, Angela Dalle Vacche, “Femininity in Flight. Androgyny and Gynandry in Early Silent Italian Cinema,” In A Feminist Reader in Early Cinema, ed. Jennifer M. Bean and Diana Negra (Durham & London: Duke University Press, 2002). 28 Carroll Smith-Rosenberg, Disorderly Conduct: Visions of Gender in Victorian America (New York: A.A. Knopf, 1985), 258. 29 Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World, 21. http://webcat2.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Tait,%20Peta,&searchCode=NAME&searchType=4 http://webcat2.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Circus%20bodies&searchCode=TALL&searchType=1 http://webcat1.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Smith-Rosenberg,%20Carroll.&searchCode=NAME&searchType=4 31 In Bakhtin’s mind, the grotesque body with its ability to conceive, to grow, and to renew what was old 30 was entirely positive. It was only after the Renaissance, he wrote, that the grotesque became misunderstood as “a purely negative phenomenon” 31 and began to be associated with the marginal and the low - the direct opposite of the classical body. 32 Mary Russo, in The Female Grotesque. Risk, Excess and Modernity (1995), provides a more in-depth understanding of the relationship between the aerial and grotesque female body. Drawing on Bakhtin’s work, she argues that the view of the female aerialist as deviant and grotesque stems from her status as entertainer and risk taker. Meanwhile, she also suggests that risk taking was the only possible strategy for women to survive in the aerial entertainment circuit around the turn of the twentieth century. Using the example of female stunt flyers in the early decades of the aviation entertainment industry (1910s–20s), Russo explains how stunt flying became associated with female deviance. In the early days of flying (1920s) many women worked as stunt flyers and airplane demonstrators for manufacturers. Their important role as promoters of the aviation industry, however, diminished when aviation became professionalized and women were relegated to its margins. They were excluded from positions as transport and military pilots. 33 Although stunt flying was constitutive of early flying practice and lay at the basis of professional flying in later years, stunting became an abnormal and increasingly liminal activity within the realms of 30 Ibid., 53. 31 Stallybrass and White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression, 9. 32 Ibid., 22-23. 33 Joseph J. Corn, “Making Flying ‘Thinkable’: Women Pilots and the Selling of Aviation, 1927-1940,” American Quarterly 31 (4) (1979): 556-57. 32 flying. 34 Women in these positions became disparaged, Russo explains, because “they were increasingly a sign of the counterfeit, exhibitionistic, unprofessional pilot.” 35 While female stunt flyers were intriguing to audiences and drew large crowds, according to Russo, they remained suspect. This becomes apparent when she explains that the word “stunt:” bifurcates the notion of the extraordinary into 1) a model of female exceptionalism (stunting) … and 2) the double, dwarfed, distorted (stunted) creatures of the sideshow which stand in as the representatives of a well-known cultural representation of the female body as monstrous and lacking … 36 Thus, the female aviator was celebrated in her role as stunt flier, but was not allowed to fly professionally because of her alleged nervous, biologically unfit – and thus ‘stunted’- characteristics. For example, references to her ‘inherent’ nervous nature, especially during menstruation, and her consequent inability to steer an airplane, were not uncommonly used to keep women away from jobs as airline pilots. 37 The trapeze performer’s extraordinary skills were also admired and celebrated as long as grotesquely muscular and physically strong females did not threaten to become accepted as ‘normal’ in society. Russo also notes that stunting or stunt flying was (and still is) a tactic for used by groups or individuals in risky situations in which a pre-conceived strategy was not possible. Stunting, she argues, belonged “to the improvisational, to the realm of what was possible in the moment.” 38 Russo’s perspective of stunting thus suggests that the activity provided a means of ‘survival’ for women aspiring to be involved in the male dominated entertainment industry. 34 Mary Russo, The Female Grotesque. Risk, Excess and Modernity (New York and London: Routledge, 1995), 19. 35 Ibid., 20. 36 Ibid., 20, 23. 37 See George Palmer Putnam, Soaring Wings. A Biography of Amelia Earhart (New York 1939), 159-160. See also M. Andrews, “Daredevils and Ladybirds: Gender and the Aviation Industry Before World War II,” Essays in Economic and Business History 13 (1995): 277-288. 38 Russo, The Female Grotesque, 22. 33 Importantly, similar to Bakhtin’s carnival, it also suggests a temporary and ambivalent agency confined to a well-defined time and place and only possible provided that the aerialist did not fail in her dangerous performance. The grotesque, as theorized by Bakhtin, is useful for my study because of its main focus on deviant bodies engaging in deviant practices from a place of creative resistance. Following Bakhtin and later theorists such as Russo, the grotesque body signifies both “debasement” 39 and possibilities for growth and renewal. It implies a body that is oppressed but that is also able to challenge this oppression in creative ways. Moreover, the carnival is not “merely oppositional and reactive,” 40 but entails a creative manipulation of dominant ideologies and restrictions by turning them upside down and by making them the objects of mockery and desire. Using a Bakhtinian framework also poses challenges. Like any other theory, Bakhtin’s thinking regarding the carnivalesque and the grotesque has its flaws and limitations and requires modifications when used in a different socio-historical setting than the one in which it originated. Many of Bakhtin’s critics have pointed to his glaring omission of women’s voices, to his failure to address gender or race in all of his work, and to his frequent insinuations of the female body as inherently grotesque. In what follows, I will demonstrate how Bakhtin’s seemingly antifeminist stance can be turned into a workable rationale suitable for my study on the gendered and/or racialized and/or classed and/or sexualized aerial body. 39 Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World, 240. 40 Russo, The Female Grotesque, 62. 34 Bakhtin and the Omission of Women’s Voices Most feminist critiques of the work of Bakhtin are directed towards his notion of dialogism and his idea that under no circumstances monologue is possible. “We are constituted in polyphony,” according to Bakhtin, meaning that “we have all inherited languages from many different sources,” making any “attempt to rule out all voices but “my own” … at best an artificial pretense.” 41 Bakhtin’s opinion on the impossibility of monologue and his claim that dialogue is a necessary condition for socially marginalized groups to resist and challenge dominant discourses are contradictory, and even ironic, when considered from a feminist viewpoint. At no point in his work does Bakhtin seem to consider the possibility that women’s experiences and opinions may be different from that of men, let alone important enough to mention. Particularly with regard to Rabelais and His World, Wayne Booth points out that, not only are there no significant female characters, but “even the passages most favorable to women are spoken by and addressed to men who are the sole arbiters of the question.” 42 It is not that Bakhtin was unaware that his work was open to feminist critiques. This becomes clear when, in Rabelais and His World, he defends Rabelais (c. 1494–1553) — the French Renaissance writer on whose work Bakhtin’s novel is based — for not taking a feminist stance. Best known for his book Gargantua and Pantagruel (16th century), Rabelais used carnivalesque inversions to express a utopian longing and freedom from authority. Depictions of women in his work involved grotesque images and metaphors emphasizing the reproductive capacities and biological characteristics of women. Instead of suggesting that Gargantua and 41 Wayne C. Booth, “Freedom of Interpretation: Bakhtin and the Challenge of Feminist Criticism,” Critical Inquiry 9 (1) (1982): 51. 42 Ibid., 64. 35 Pantagruel could have been advanced by ‘allowing’ women into the dialogue, Bakhtin made the same mistake as Rabelais and adopted much of his thinking without criticism. Bakhtin defended Rabelais for not taking a stance in the querelle des femmes, a dispute that raged between 1542 and 1550 among French poets, writers, and philosophers about the position of women in society. 43 Most of the works produced in light of this dispute were hostile against women — if not misogynist. Rabelais did not want to join the “Gallic tradition,” 44 which “saw in women the incarnation of sin, the temptation of flesh,” 45 nor the “Platonist” tradition that exalted womanhood. 46 Although, according to Bakhtin, Rabelais was more aligned with the tradition that defended women, he did not join that camp because “he did not believe that this new philosophy could survive in the crucible of laughter without being burned up.” 47 Bakhtin also did not regard views that saw women as either “related to the material bodily lower stratum,” “the principle that gives birth,” “the womb,” 48 or “the inexhaustible vessel of conception,” 49 as problematic. These views were “in no way hostile to women,” 50 Bakhtin claimed, and were entirely justifiable since laughter through mockery was fundamental to the popular comic tradition in which Rabelais wrote. 51 That Bakhtin did not see any problems with such depictions is probably most obvious when he suggests that the “Kerch terracotta … figurines of senile pregnant hags” 52 are excellent examples of what the grotesque entails: 43 Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World, 239. See also Joan Kelly, “Early Feminist Theory and the “Querelle des Femmes,” 1400-1789,” Signs 8 (1) (1982): 4-28. 44 Ibid. 45 Ibid., 240. 46 Ibid., 242. 47 Ibid. 48 Ibid., 240. 49 Ibid., 241. 50 Ibid. 51 Ibid. 52 Ibid., 26. 36 In the famous Kerch terracotta collection we find figurines of senile pregnant hags. Moreover, the old hags are laughing. This is a typical and very strongly expressed grotesque …. They combine a senile, decaying and deformed flesh of new life, conceived but as yet unformed. Life is shown in its two-fold contradictory process; it is the epitome of incompleteness. And such is precisely the grotesque concept of the body. 53 Even if we agree with Bakhtin that images of the female body as grotesque can be justified when seen in a context of “ambivalent laughter,” 54 depictions of women, such as that of the pregnant hag, that are “loaded with all of the connotations of fear and loathing around the biological processes of reproduction and aging,” 55 are too ambivalent to be neutral. In addition, the question still remains: Who laughs and “who are those to whom the defense is being written, who are those who are healed by this laughter?” 56 As soon as we raise these questions, Booth indicates, we see that just as the original querelle des femmes was conducted largely by men, accusers and champions, this exoneration of carnival laughter is conducted by and for men, ignoring or playing down the evidence that the book itself largely excludes women. A man of great genius wrote a book offering a rich imaginative experience to men of sensitive and liberal spirit, and a male critic of great genius wrote a defense of that great book, addressed to other men. 57 In other words, in sharp contrast with Baktin’s own claims regarding resistance through dialogue, is the unsurprising discovery that the works of both Rabelais and Bakhtin are male monologues. The omission of the female voice by Bakhtin, and thus his failure to “incorporate the social relations of gender,” 58 may not seem unusual in light of the timeframe in which the novel was written. The lack of women’s perspectives is not strange if we view Bakhtin in the light of 53 Ibid., 25, 26. 54 Bakhtin, “Carnival and the Carnivalesque,” 256. 55 Russo, The Female Grotesque, 63. 56 Booth, “Freedom of Interpretation,” 63. 57 Ibid. 58 Russo, The Female Grotesque, 63. 37 Western literary criticism, which has seldom acknowledged separate female voices, Booth notes. Nor is this omission strange in the light of the almost exclusively male criticism in the Soviet Union during Bakhtin’s lifetime. 59 Objections based on an appeal to historical placement, however, are quite troublesome. 60 Although historical placement arguments may be informative in terms of historical context, to use such arguments is to ignore, and simultaneously justify, women’s absence from literary works in past and present. If Bakhtin’s work is indeed troublesome because it lacks the voices and presence of women, how can its use be justified in a study that emphasizes women’s aerial performances? How can I use this work to promote feminist thinking 61 without having to excuse him? The answer lies, as several feminists would argue, in Bakhtin’s work itself, especially in his thinking about dialogism. As Heikinen points out, several feminists have embraced Bakhtin’s dialogism “for its ability to provide a platform for marginalized feminine voices to be heard above the din of the monologic, authoritative, and hegemonic voice.” 62 Also, the suggestion of Bakhtin to read texts from an “internally persuasive” perspective, 63 a reading against the grain and against dominant ideologies, has encouraged feminist researchers to make new meaning out of male authoritative texts. 64 In his discussion about the dialogic aspect of language and its ever-changing nature, Bakhtin suggests that we should appropriate the words of other people and make them our own: 59 Booth, “Freedom of Interpretation,” 54. 60 Ibid., 71. 61 See also Halasek, “Feminism and Bakhtin,” 65. 62 Denise Heikinen, “Is Bakhtin a Feminist or Just Another Dead White Male? A Celebration of Feminist Possibilities in Manuel Puig's Kiss of the Spider Woman,” in A Dialogue of Voices. Feminist Literary Theory, ed. Karen Hohne and Helen Wussow, 114-127 (Minneapolis, London: University of Minnesota Press, 1994), 114. 63 Halasek, “Feminism and Bakhtin,” 70. 64 Ibid. 38 Language, for the individual consciousness, lies on the borderline between oneself and the other. The word in language is half someone else's. It becomes “one's own” only when the speaker populates it with his own intention, his own accent, when he appropriates the word, adapting it to his own semantic and expressive intention. Prior to this moment of appropriation, the word does not exist in a neutral and impersonal language (it is not, after all, out of a dictionary that the speaker gets his words!), but rather it exists in other people’s mouths, in other people’s contexts, serving other people’s intentions: it is from there that one must take the word, and make it one's own. 65 It is precisely this that I have attempted to do in my study on female aerialists. I have taken Bakhtin’s words — specifically his ideas regarding the carnivalesque and the grotesque body — and made them my own by transposing them onto a different socio-historical context and by writing on behalf of women whose histories have remained largely unexplored. By providing a useful paradigm of resistance through both language (dialogism) and deviant bodily conduct (the carnivalesque/grotesque body), Bakhtin does not need to be excused. A more productive approach, as Halasek also suggests, is to continue building on the ideas of Bakhtin and enrich them by incorporating that which is lacking. Thus, using a Bakhtinian framework while accounting for women’s voices and experiences will contribute to making “the monologue dialogic.” 66 Since Bakhtin does not discuss possible gender or race-related struggles, his thinking may not seem appropriate for examining the ways in which the female body, and especially the black female body, was represented in modernity. One could indeed argue that using a ‘white European male’ framework to examine the lives of women of colour, whose histories have been greatly affected by European colonization, is controversial and will only reassert unequal power relations. However, I see value in addressing the gaps in Bakhtin’s work while taking his 65 Mikhail Bakhtin. The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays, ed. Michael Holquist, trans. Caryl Emerson and Michael Holquist (Austin and London: University of Texas Press, 1981 (1930s)), 293-94. 66 Halasek, “Feminism and Bakhtin,” 73. 39 thinking to another level. There seems to be something quite productive about not just taking an author’s words for granted but to modify and appropriate his ideas to suit one’s own arguments. 67 I will now turn to Turner whose concept of liminality is closely related to Bakhtin’s understanding of the carnivalesque. Victor Turner and Liminality Victor Turner (1920–1983) was a British cultural anthropologist. He and his wife Edith Turner are probably best known for their ethnographic studies of the Ndembu tribe in Zambia. Their work on ritual, religion, and performance has been, and continues to be, used in a wide variety of contexts and academic disciplines. Victor Turner’s conceptualization of liminality, originally set within a context of tribal rituals, is especially useful for my study on female aerialists. The term ‘liminality,’ derived from the Latin word limen meaning ‘threshold,’ was originally coined in 1960 by French ethnographer and folklorist Arnold Van Gennep. 68 With the ‘liminal phase’ he referred to the middle stage of the three stages he thought were characteristic of tribal rites de passage; separation, margin (or limen), and aggregation. He defined rites de passage as “rites which accompany every change of place, state, social position and age.” 69 Applied to the transitioning of adolescents into adulthood in the context of tribal rituals, the first stage refers to “the separation from antecedent mundane life,” where the adolescent is sent on a (spiritual) journey. The second stage is that of liminality, “a betwixt-and-between condition often involving seclusion from the everyday scene.” For example, the “neophytes,” (referring to 67 Ibid., 72. 68 Graham St. John (ed.), Victor Turner and Contemporary Cultural Performance (New York and Oxford: Berghahn Books, 2008), 4. 69 Victor Turner, The Ritual Process. Structure and Antistructure (Chicago: University of Chicago, 1969), 94. 40 individuals in a liminal state) were often taken to secluded places, like forests and caves away from their tribes. The third phase then is the “reaggregation to the daily world,’ ” and thus a return to the familiar structure of the tribe and entrance into adulthood. 70 Liminal spaces, according to Turner, are not always necessarily secluded; they can also exist in public spaces, especially in performative spaces like carnival, festivals, theater, etc. In his book The Ritual Process: Structure and Antistructure, in which he elaborates on Van Gennep’s concept of liminality by applying it to different domains including performance, Turner wrote: One of the best ways of learning by experiences is through our performative genres. In our daily life, social dramas, whether in small groups or large, continue to emerge – offspring of both culture and nature – but the cultural ways we have of becoming aware of them – rituals, stage plays, carnivals, anthropological monographs, pictorial exhibitions, films – vary with culture, climate, technology, group history, and the demography of individual genius. 71 Most of these cultural performances, he said, belong to a culture’s “subjunctive” mood, referring to “that mood of a verb used to express supposition, desire, hypothesis, possibility, etc., rather than to state an actual fact, as the mood of were, in ‘if I were you.’ ” Ritual, carnival, festival, theater, film, and similar performative genres, Turner asserted, clearly possess many of these attributes. 72 This “subjunctive mood,” is also characteristic of what Bakhtin has defined as periods of carnival. Carnival, according to Turner, can be seen as a public ritual that has its liminality in public spaces like “the village greens or the squares of the city that are … ritually transformed.” In line with Bakhtin’s thinking, Turner wrote: 70 Victor Turner, “Liminality and the Performative Genre,” in Rite, Drama, Festival, Spectacle/ Rehearsals Toward a Theory of Cultural Performance, ed. John J. MacAloon (Institute for the Study of Human Issues, Inc: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1984), 21. 71 Ibid., 20. 72 Ibid., 20-21. 41 It is as though everything is switched into the subjunctive mood for a privileged period of time – the time, for example, of Mardi Gras or the Carnival Carême. Public liminality is governed by public subjunctivity. For a while almost anything goes: taboos are lifted, fantasies are enacted, the low are exalted and the mighty abased; indicative mood behavior is reversed. Yet there are some controls: crime is still illicit; drunken bodies may be moved off the sidewalks. And ritual forms still constrain the order and often the style of ritual events. 73 What Turner perhaps stressed more explicitly than Bakhtin was that even though hierarchies were lifted for a certain period of time, this did not necessarily mean that other structures or means to keep order were not in place - here referring to the fact that crime would still be punished and drunken bodies removed from sidewalks. The idea that liminal spaces or liminal time periods lift certain restrictions usually imposed within an existing framework of authority and/or ritual is particularly useful for examining entertainment and aerial performances between 1880 and 1930. While aerialists stretched the boundaries of generally accepted ideas regarding femininity, masculinity, gender, sexuality and/or race, they would still have to comply with certain rules imposed on them by their managers or the owners of the venues in which they performed. Nevertheless, as Turner indicates, liminality in performative spaces and genres could provide “the scene and time for the emergence of a society’s deepest values,” and “may also be the venue and occasion for the most radical skepticism …” 74 While ordinary life is itself a performance, as Goffman and others have noted (we play roles, occupy statuses, play games with one another, don and doff many masks), liminal performances, Turner wrote, are different: They are more about the doffing of masks, the stripping of statuses, the renunciation of roles, the demolishing of structures, than about putting them on and keeping them on. Antistructures are performed, too. But, still within the 73 Ibid., 21. 74 Ibid., 22. 42 liminal frame, new subjunctive, even ludic, structures are then generated, with their own grammars and lexicons of roles and relationships…” 75 In other words, liminal performances, like aerial performances, provide arenas for the emergence of new ideas and new modes of expression, which may or may not have been adopted outside of the liminal spaces in which they originated. As is the case with Bakhtin, Turner’s concept of liminality is also not without criticism. While the liminal (like the carnivalesque) space can be viewed as a space of creative resistance which suits my study on aerial performers rather well, the view of liminality as a space of possibilities cannot necessarily be applied to all those who are considered ‘at the margins’ of society. Eugen Weber, St. John notes, has pointed out that the potency and ambiguity of the limen or “border” and the subalterns occupying it has made the transcendent and apolitical limen something of a questionable model - at least within American studies. Indeed, St. John writes, “the optative” or subjunctive marginality implicit in Turner’s work may not always be suitable to perspectives on colonial history and/or gender politics. 76 Bakhtin, Turner, and Agency As I have demonstrated thus far, both Bakhtin’s carnival and Turner’s liminality offer a framework for understanding creative resistance through transgressive practices that, under certain circumstances, may result into a redefining of established social categories. Like Rabelais and Bakhtin, who used their writing to explore “the holes in the walls between what was held to be punishable and what unpunishable,” 77 female aerialists performed on the edge of what was acceptable in terms of women’s behaviour and bodily display. They dressed in men’s clothes 75 Ibid., 27. 76 St. John, Victor Turner, 14. 77 Holquist, “Prologue,” xvi-xvii. 43 while flying airplanes, they titillated audiences by taking off clothes on the trapeze, they swung from one side of the tent to the other in tight leotards, and performed the same aerial routines as their male colleagues. They either displayed their muscles or intentionally disguised them. While Bakhtin saw the grotesque or deviant body as positive and in the ‘process of becoming,’ Turner also understood liminal performances as “a realm of pure possibility,” “a temporary breach of structure whereby the familiar may be stripped of certitude and the normative unhinged, and interlude wherein conventional social, economic, and political life may be transcended.” 78 “The processual project,” according to Turner recognizes that society is in-composition, open-ended, becoming, and that its (re)production is dependent upon the periodic appearance, in the history of societies and in the lives of individuals, of organized moments of categorical disarray and intense reflexive potential. 79 The idea of a performance or a performing body as ‘in a process of becoming’ is interesting in the context of aerial bodies and performances. As Tait and Stoddart have pointed out repeatedly, the body in flight seems not susceptible to social classification. The aerial body is a fantastic body, seemingly free from restrictions imposed on it by cultural prescriptions regarding gender, class, sexuality, or race. The aerial body, then, can be considered a body in the process of becoming, or at least with the capacity to become. It fosters possibilities while in the air. When the aerialist comes back down to earth, restrictions reapply. As Tait has pointed out (see introductory quote of this chapter): “[t]he flier momentarily acts out the desire of physical bodies to defy the gravity of social categories, before returning to familiar territory when he or she halts the free fall and reinstates gender identity and the material order of bodies.” 80 78 St. John, Victor Turner, 5. 79 Ibid., 4. 80 Peta Tait, “Feminine Free Fall: A Fantasy of Freedom,” Theatre Journal 48 (1) (1996): 33-4. 44 The idea of the body as a process is also what is at the heart of Butler’s conceptualization of gender and gender performativity. “Performativity,” in the words of Butler, “must be understood not as a singular deliberate “act,” but rather, as the reiterative and citational practice by which discourse reproduces the effects that it names.” 81 Gender performativity, Hargreaves and Vertinsky explain, assumes that gender is not something that is “ ‘naturally’ ascribed, but a changing social construct, concretely expressed, but also fluid and changing through public performance.” 82 The seeming necessity of reiterating gendered practices to reinscribe gender- identity implies that the process is never complete and thus leaves room for agency. As Butler points out, “it is … by virtue of its reiteration that gaps and fissures are opened up as the constitutive instabilities” in the construction of gender, …” 83 Synthesized quite clearly, McNay states: Change arises from the constitutive instability of the symbolic and discursive structures which invest the body with meaning. The cultural necessity for a performative reiteration of these symbolic norms highlights the extent to which they are not natural or inevitable and are, therefore, potentially open to change through processes of resignification. … By emphasizing the historicity of structure, the concept of the performative highlights how constraint is constitutive but not fully determining of gender subjectivity; in other words, a space for agency is outlined. 84 Similarly Turner has noted that performances can be active agencies of change, representing, “the eye by which culture sees itself and the drawing board on which creative actors sketch out what they believe to be more apt or interesting ‘designs of living.’ ” 85 81 Judith, Butler, “Bodies that Matter,” in The Body. A Reader, ed. Mariam Fraser and Monica Greco, 62-65 (London & New York: Taylor and Francis, Routledge, 2005), 62. 82 Jennifer Hargreaves and Patricia Vertinsky, “Introduction,” in Physical Culture, Power, and the Body, ed. Jennifer Hargreaves and Patricia Vertinsky, 1-24 (London and New York: Routledge, Taylor and Francis Group, 2007), 5. 83 Butler, “Bodies that Matter,” 65. 84 Lois McNay, Gender and Agency: Reconfiguring the Subject in Feminist and Social theory (Cambridge: Polity, 2000), 35. 85 St. John, Victor Turner, 7. 45 Both Bakhtin and Turner suggest a framework that views agency as both socially transgressive and limited. While agency is transgressive during the period of carnival or in liminal performances, it can also be seen as relatively limiting because it is difficult to practice the same kind of transgression outside of the carnivalesque or liminal space. The inversions that are applauded in the circus tent and theaters are the same ones that are castigated once the show is over. Nevertheless, as Russo also notes, “the extreme difficulty of producing lasting change does not diminish the usefulness of these symbolic models of transgression, and the histories of subaltern and counterproductive cultural activity are never as neatly closed as structural models might suggest.” 86 On an individual level, both the performances of female aerialists and their engagement are a careful navigation exercise between what is socially acceptable and what is not, and can be seen as practices of “regulated liberties.” Following Bourdieu, McNay explains that the idea of regulated liberties suggests “a form of change which emerges, not as opposition or externality, but as dislocation arising from the reinscription of the tools and symbols of the dominant into the space of the colonized ....” 87 Indeed, performances taking place in carnivalesque or liminal spaces such as theater, circus, and open-air fairs generally redeployed traditional social categories as defined by the dominant classes, and turned them into objects of mockery without being blatantly rebellious. 88 Similar to the concept of regulated liberties is that of “technologies of the self,” coined by Foucault and referring to the techniques through which individuals create (and recreate) their 86 Russo, The Female Grotesque, 58. 87 McNay, Gender and Agency, 58. 88 See Russo, The Female Grotesque, 62. 46 own identities like a piece of art. 89 These technologies are “not devoid of rules or codes of conduct” 90 and they do not liberate an individual from all possible constraints, but help “build a certain type of identity within the relations of power by using one’s own power ethically.” 91 What may make this concept difficult to apply to the performances of female aerialists is that it assumes that the individual problematizes the (transgressive) practices she engages in. 92 Many aerialists, undoubtedly, were aware of their unusual positions as women engaging in provocative and socially transgressive actions. There were others, however, who may not have questioned the transgressive nature of their performances; born and raised as aerialists and reliant upon their skills to make a living, they may not have thought in terms of gender politics or resistance against the established order. The notions of regulated liberties and technologies of the self are nevertheless useful to specifically problematize the agency of female aerialists as they focus on the individual construction of identity, whereas the framework of Bakhtin encompasses society as a whole. Tracing It is one thing to imagine those bodies of the past, and it is another to write about them. Susan Leigh Foster, Choreographing History. 93 Following my discussion on agency, there are three broad premises that underpin my methodological thinking. First is the idea that gender is socially constructed or largely 89 McNay, Gender and Agency, 9. 90 Pirkko Markula and Richard Pringle, Foucault, Sport and Exercise (London and New York: Routledge, Taylor and Francis Group, 2006), 140. 91 Ibid., 143. 92 Ibid., 153. 93 Susan Leigh Foster, Choreographing History. Bloomington (Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1995), 9. 47 ‘performed,’ and therefore changeable depending on its context. 94 Second, gender intersects with other categories of identity such as race, class, sexuality, age. Third, women’s voices and voices of those who were considered ‘different’ or ‘deviant’ have historically been neglected at the mercy of white, male, European voices. By writing the individual’s ‘different’ bodies and voices into history, I believe that history itself may take on a different dimension, becoming more productive and complete. As pointed out previously, my aim in this study has been to critically interrogate categories of gender, race, and sexuality - an objective that has for long been also one of the main intentions and major strengths of feminist analyses. Joan Scott, among others, has repeatedly emphasized that feminist researchers should aim to deconstruct social categories and move away from any attempt to unify feminism, or to define ‘woman’ as a singular category. Instead, she calls for a more critical interrogation of difference and how such explorations may contribute to more inclusive and varied feminist thinking and historiography. Scott writes: We need the feminist analysis of categories of identity not only to detect the differentials of power constructed by binary oppositions that are purported to be timeless, natural, and universal, but also to contextualize and historicize these categories. Feminist methodology has taught us to ask about variation, difference, and conflict whenever we are presented with neatly contained entities… 95 The critical interrogation or ‘deconstruction’ of established categories that are taken for granted, as Scott points out, also involves a historical component. Feminist deconstruction means uncovering underlying power relations, while exposing the roots of long standing social inequalities. Examining social categories from a historical angle is of critical importance to be able to understand and act upon current-day inequities. The task of feminist historians, including 94 See Butler, “Bodies that Matter,” 62; Hargreaves and Vertinsky, “Introduction,” 5. 95 See for example, Scott, “Feminist Reverberations,” 11. 48 myself, is then to investigate how certain categories emerged, how they have been challenged throughout history, what purpose they served, what purpose they are currently serving, and how they can be used productively in the future. 96 It also needs to be noted that the illusion of the category of woman as a neatly defined and closed-off entity, is illustrated clearly in my case study about Barbette. While Barbette was not a woman in biological terms, he did perform as one and confounded categories of gender and sexuality during his aerial routine. One of the reasons I have included his case study was an attempt to exemplify the necessity of taking ‘difference’ into account. Moreover, through Barbette’s story I illustrate the aforementioned idea that gender, like the category of ‘woman,’ should be considered changeable depending on context in order to be used productively in feminist analyses. Barbette rendered categories of gender temporarily invisible, supporting Tait’s notion that aerialism has the ability to render social and bodily categories temporarily obsolete. Just like Charmion and Coleman whose unusual, risky performances made them stand out as remarkable and/or unruly women, Barbette’s performances with his emphasis on the transformation from a ‘perfectly shaped’ woman to an androgynous being, helped extend, if not defy, the category of woman. The notion that women’s experiences and identities must be studied at the intersections of categories such as race, class, gender, sexuality, (dis)ability, is often referred to as intersectionality. This idea stems primarily from black feminists’ dissatisfaction with white feminist thinking that privileged explorations of gender over race or class. Black feminists argued that the experiences and oppression of black women could not simply be understood in 96 See for example Elisabeth Grosz, “Histories of a Feminist Future,” Signs 25 (4) (2000): 1017-1021. 49 terms of gender, but required an understanding of race and class as well. 97 Among the first to articulate the unique challenges of black women at the intersection of race, class, and gender were Sojourner Truth and W.E.B. Du Bois. Contemporary black feminists, such as bell hooks and Patricia Hill Collins, continue the legacies of these earlier thinkers by focusing their research on the lived experiences of black women and by encouraging other researchers to account for difference. 98 In my study, I have also worked from the premise that inequality cannot be explained, “let alone challenged, via a race-only, class-only, or gender only-framework” 99 and that “single-axis thinking” undermines knowledge production and struggles for social justice. 100 I have also worked from the premise that the experiences and performances of the aerialists I examine in this study were different from each other, and therefore each conveyed unique messages about the body and the culture in which it figured. To understand a culture and the place of the body within it, it is indeed important to study both the meanings a body may convey and how these meanings may change depending on context and time. The ways in which culture is inscribed onto the gendered, racial, classed, and/or sexual body can inform us about how power operates in a particular society: about who is most privileged, who is at the margins, and why this may be. The view of the bodily identities of women, as shaped by various cultural experiences and not just confined to that of gender or race or class, has also allowed me to 97 See Sue Morgan, “Theorizing Feminist History: a Thirty-year Retrospective,” Women’s Histor Review 18 (3) (2009): 392. 98 See Rose M. Brewer, “Theorizing Race, Class and Gender: The New Scholarship of Black Feminist Intellectuals and Black Women’s Labor,” in Theorizing Black Feminisms, The Visionary Pragmatism of Black Women, ed. Stanlie M. James and Abena P.A. Busia (London: Routlegde, 1993), 13. 99 Patricia Hill Collins, “Symposium: On West and Fenstermaker’s “Doing Difference,” Gender and Society 9 (4) (1995): 492. See also Creese, Gillian and Daiva Stasiulis, “Introduction: Intersections of Gender, Race, Class, and Sexuality,” Studies in Political Economy 51 (0) (2009). 100 Sumi Cho, Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, and Leslie McCall, “Toward a Field of Intersectionality Studies: Theory, Applications, and Praxis,” Signs 38 (4) (2013): 787. 50 provide a more detailed understanding of ways in which aerialists negotiated opportunities and struggles as active agents. I have attempted to fill in some of the gaps regarding more general meanings of the aerial body and how this body was simultaneously molded and shaped by cultural prescriptions regarding the male and female body. I have also paid attention to inequalities resulting from aerialists operating with and against a patriarchal society. Moreover, while I have deliberately focused on the performances of three aerialists who are somewhat unknown, I illustrate how their performances sparked (and continue to do so) important discussions about the instabilities and fluidity of categories of race, class, gender, sexuality, and also inform us about the dialectics between “body and society and between agency and constraint.” 101 Reconstructing the Aerial Body What Budd points out in the introduction of his book The Sculpture Machine, which details the history of physical culture in North America, is also applicable to my study on aerialists in modernity. Budd writes: Every age has its characteristic body politics. Their historical study charts changes in the way that a multitude of bodies – from the ‘natural’ to the symbolic – have been perceived and interpreted. We cannot think our way out of our bodies. Nor can we use the idea of a natural or more real body as a vehicle to escape from discourse and culture. What we can do is locate ourselves in relation to other bodies – historically and in the present – and to the institutions and discourses that seek to define and cater to them. 102 Hence, the body, as Budd underscores, cannot be studied in isolation from contemporary discourses surrounding it. Discourses about the body, or the various meanings attributed to it in 101 Hargreaves and Vertinsky, “Introduction,” 10. 102 Michael Anton Budd, The Sculpture Machine. Physical Culture and Body Politics in the Age of Empire. (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan Press LTD, 1997), xiv. 51 specific socio-historical settings, can be found not only in text, but also in images, performances, bodily practices, tools, symbols, etc. The world, in this sense, can be seen as a text that is constantly being written, read, and interpreted. It is written and read differently depending on the background, location, historical time frame, and societal context of both readers and writers. What thus needs to be kept in mind doing historical research, as Valverde also points out, is that “language is not a transparent window giving access to the world but is rather itself part of the world” and thus “discourses are not an absolute beginning point but are themselves shaped by pre-existing social relations (mainly of gender, race, and class)….” 103 Bringing the material body in dialogue with contemporary discourses regarding that body, however, is not always straightforward in historical analyses. The ways that performers in the past experienced their performances and bodies and the ways they were read by spectators and show-critics may well have been very different. While performing bodies, and the aerial body in particular, often evoked a sense of freedom, grace, lightness, and ease in the eyes of audience members, it did not show the hours of training, emotional investment, and injuries that often preceded the performance. While it is difficult to gain a profound understanding of the material aerial body or the aerial-body-as-flesh, certainly given the small numbers of sources in which performers like Charmion, Barbette, and Bessie Coleman talked about their experiences and bodies, it has nevertheless been important to my study to consider ways in which discourses “instruct” or discipline the material body, 104 and how this body, in turn, instructs discourses. 103 Mariana Valverde, The Age of Light, Soap and Water (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2008), 10. 104 Susan Leigh Foster, “Dancing Bodies,” in Incorporations, ed. J. and Kwinter Crary, S. (New York: Zone Books, 1992), 480. 52 The notion of “the performing body as text” 105 has been particularly useful for my exploration of aerial bodies. The very moment the aerialist appeared on stage, her/his body and the ways in which s/he moved were exposed to various readings. Depending on the context in which s/he performed and the cultural assumptions of the individuals in the audience (the readers), the aerial body was read as gendered, classed, racial, sexual, and/or (dis)able. Most of these readings were not registered since they happened at an unconscious level in the minds of both performers and spectators. The readings that did survive are embedded in various contemporary newspapers, magazines, novels, diaries, movies, photographs, and other artifacts. An analysis of these sources or ‘traces,’ 106 providing insight into the discursive construction of the aerial body in modernity, is what my study is largely based on. Biographical Case Studies The quasi-biographical case studies of Charmion, Barbette, and Bessie Coleman are meant to illuminate ways in which the aerial body was a site of contestation of cultural values and how s/he resisted and bent cultural norms to serve goals of her/his own. Providing insight into the lives and careers of individual aerialists serves to illustrate the different ways each individual responded to cultural norms and how s/he negotiated opportunities and constraints. Biographical cases, widely used in historical research, 107 are not meant to generalize, but to 105 See Brenda Assael, The Circus and Victorian Society (Charlottesville and London: University of Virginia Press, 2005), 10. 106 Historian Peter Burke suggests that the use of ‘traces’ instead of ‘sources’ might be more productive for historical inquiry. Whereas ‘sources’ seem to refer to historians “filling their buckets from the stream of Truth,” ‘traces’ imply the fragmentary character of bits and pieces of documents, photographs and other artifacts the historian may find. See Peter Burke, Eyewitnessing. The Uses of Images as Historical Evidence (Ithaca, New York: Cornell University Press, 2001), 13. 107 See for example Elaine Showalter, e a Anarch ender and t re at the in de i c e (New York: Viking, 1990); and Andrew L. Erdman, Blue Vaudeville: Sex, Morals and the Mass Marketing of Amusement, 1895-1915 (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co., 2004). 53 illustrate the particularity and complexity of an individual or event and the circumstances (e.g., historical, social, economic, political) in which she, he, or the event was embedded. 108 In most cases, as in mine, the author does not provide a full-length biography, but only highlights those aspects of a person’s life that pertain to his/her particular interest and research questions. In my particular study, I have chosen to highlight the lives of aerialists who engaged in unusual and spectacular performances, but whose activities, struggles and accomplishments have not been addressed as thoroughly as they might have been by other researchers. While I am aware that aerialists’ experiences and activities were highly unusual and not shared with most women or men in North-America and Europe between 1880 and 1930, the ways in which aerialists’ bodies were constructed in discourses do tell us much about contemporary perceptions of the (fe)male body more generally. In addition, and as pointed out earlier, studying bodily practices of the past can teach us much about cultural tendencies and anxieties pertinent to a particular society in a particular time frame. As I touched upon in my introductory chapter, the three aerialists’ case studies can be read as a collective biography. Collective biographies do not necessarily involve a large number of subjects. On the contrary, writes Cowman, some of the most successful examples involve no more than two or three lives, “but pay constant attention to the connections and overlapping between them as well as the points at which they may have diverged.” Also, collective biographies are typically more fragmentary than standard biographies, sometimes only considering a few years in an individual’s life. 109 For Charmion, Barbette, and Coleman, I have 108 See for example Robert E. Stake, The Art of Case Study Research (Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications, 1995), xi, 8; Robert E. Stake, “Case Studies,” in Handbook of Qualitative Research, ed. Norman K. Denzin and Yvonna S. Lincoln, 435-54 (Thousand Oaks: Sage Publications, Inc., 2000). 109 Krista Cowman, “Collective Biography,” in Research Methods for History, ed. Simon Gunn and Lucy Faire (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2012), 97. 54 indeed only addressed and/or highlighted those episodes in their lives that pertained to their aerial performances. While recognizing that collective biographies or biographical case studies are limited because they never fully capture lives of past individuals and are often heavily biased by the perspective of the historian and her selection of sources, they do illuminate past events, as well as individuals’ actions, struggles, and beliefs. They also provide the reader with a broad and rich understanding of the context in which individuals lived and encourage reflection on how these circumstances may be similar to, or different from those in the present. Also, as Foster notes, by allowing the bodies of aerialists past “to carry their own inscriptive weight” and by giving them “more than just a sex or a set of regimented requisites, “they may empower us with a newly embodied sense of human agency.” 110 Sources/Traces One of the challenges I encountered studying Charmion, Barbette, and Coleman was the difficulty of finding reliable and sufficient sources or ‘traces’ that enabled a reconstruction and critical analysis of their careers and performances. An additional difficulty encountered while examining practices such as flying was the reading and interpretation of bodies and bodily performances. Foster notes that performances, movements, and individually characteristic gestures, “elude translations into words,” and thus have “no facile verbal equivalence,” 111 complicating the writing of their history. Indeed, as Tait also notes, performances such as trapeze 110 Foster, Choreographing History, 12. 111 Ibid., 9. 55 tricks “do not leave behind tangible effects” and knowledge of such performances is often dependent on advertisements and reviews. 112 Most aerialists did not leave written accounts such as letters, autobiographies, interviews, to enable the historian to better understand their personal aspirations and consequently, possible meanings of their performances. Nevertheless, the second-hand descriptions of performances, including a wide range of comments and criticisms that have been left reflect contemporary cultural tendencies and offer a window into perceptions of the aerial body for historians to work with. These traces, including reviews of performances, comments in newspaper and magazine articles, photographs, video footage, novels and poetry, provide valuable information and, set within a larger socio-historical context, assist the historian in imaging the past. The majority of primary sources I have used in this study consist of a rather large number of newspaper articles found in both traditional and digital archives. One of the issues with archives, however, is that while they may contain a host of useful information, the information has gone through multiple ‘filters’ before it arrived in the archive or in the hands of the researcher. Indeed, long before historians can analyze these sources, other individuals have imparted rigorous selection on them. It is in this selection, as Trouillot suggests, that silences are created: that some events and individuals are left out, while others are not. “Power begins at the source” and silences enter the process of historical production at four crucial moments: the moment of fact creation (the making of sources); the moment of fact assembly (the making of archives); the moment of fact retrieval (the making of narratives); and the moment of retrospective significance (the making of history in the final instance). 113 112 Peta Tait, “Re/membering Muscular Circus Bodies: Triple Somersaults, The Flying Jordans and Clarke Brothers,” Nineteenth Century Theater & Film 33 (1) (2006): 26. 113 Michel-Rolph Trouillot, Silencing the Past: Power and the Production of History (Boston: Beacon, 1995), 19, 26. 56 Archives indeed tend to exclude less privileged groups in society by preserving certain documents, and therefore certain voices, over others. Since the study of history was originally considered a purely male endeavour while women were dismissed as incapable or uninterested in its pursuit, 114 women’s experiences have traditionally been neglected or considered unworthy of preservation. To counter the importance given to the archive as authoritative source of historical knowledge, I have combined these various sources (newspapers, photographs, film fragments) with secondary, often feminist literature to establish a context that focuses on the experiences of women. I have used the case studies of aerialists as “alternative sites of historical memory” 115 and shed light on the unusual and generally unknown performances of such aerialists. In addition to archive-based newspaper articles, in my case studies I frequently refer to visual materials including photographs and film-footage. As Jordanova writes, such visual materials are part of the repertoire of most historians and can play important roles in reconstructing the past - if considered from an analytical rather than a purely decorative point of view. The same questions that are asked when analyzing textual documents are posed when examining photographs and images: who made them, what do they consist of, where were they produced and when, why did they come into being and how? There is usually no single ‘visual method’ that historians work with. 116 Instead, most historians try to place visual materials in their historical context while discussing some materials in more depth than others, depending on the specific portrayals and characteristics of the material that are of interest to the research question 114 Michelle T. King, “Working With/In the Archives,” in Research Methods for History, ed. Simon Gunn and Lucy Faire (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2012), 16. 115 Ibid., 18. 116 Ludmilla Jordanova, “Approaching Visual Materials,” in Research Methods for History, ed. Simon Gunn and Lucy Faire (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 2012), 30-31, 34. 57 at hand. In this study, I have used photographs and film to contextualize the performances of my subjects and to gain a better understanding of what these performances might have looked like, how the performers represented themselves, and what reactions their performances may have evoked among spectators. In addition, I have used visual materials to analyze ways in which the aerial body was depicted and read as gendered, sexualized, and/or racialized. Searching for Charmion, Barbette, and Bessie Coleman Searching for information about aerial performers Charmion, Barbette, and Bessie Coleman was not without challenges. Most difficult was finding sufficient primary sources to allow for a reconstruction of their performances and provide insight into their own motives and aspirations. As pointed out before, none of the three aerialists seem to have left written accounts such as letters or diaries, and the majority of materials left to work with, including newspaper articles and show reviews, cannot always be trusted for accuracy or bias. Not only did newspapers sometimes sensationalize acts to entice their readership, performers themselves created what Todd has called “stage biographies” in which they aggrandized their performances and sometimes made up certain facts. 117 For example, Charmion portrayed herself as French (and not American), and informed reporters she had measured her strength with Eugen Sandow, ‘father of modern-day bodybuilding,’ concluding she was almost as strong as him. Bessie Coleman told reporters that she had flown all over Europe and had ordered a number of aircraft for her personal use in the United States, though none of these facts has ever been verified. 117 See Jan Todd, “Sex! Murder! Suicide! New Revelations about the “Mystery of Minerva,” Iron Game History 10 (4) (2009): 8. 58 Searching for Charmion Charmion drew my attention when viewing her provocative Trapeze Disrobing Act, filmed by Thomas Edison in 1901. 118 Moreover, she was beautifully pictured on the cover of Chapman and Vertinsky’s recent book Venus with Biceps (2010), 119 featured with flexed bicep and a fancy feathered hat, but very little appeared to be known about this fashionable and strong aerialist. Her absence in history books today is not surprising given the limited number of primary sources available on her career and performances. My search began with visiting historian of physical culture and the body, David Chapman, in his home in Seattle, in the hope that his extensive collection of physical culture magazines would reveal more about Charmion. Chapman’s collection did not contain much documentation on Charmion - except for three of the pins Charmion distributed to her audiences - though he did provide insight into entertainment newspapers of the time, including the New York Dramatic Mirror, Variety and the Billboard. These newspapers reported on the theater and circus scene around the turn of the twentieth century and informed about theater programs in and around New York City. Chapman also informed me about Theodore Hull’s genealogical research on Charmion’s family, which would prove useful. Following his recommendations regarding the newspapers, I was able to access them on microfilm and found seven relevant articles in the New York Dramatic Mirror, covering the beginning of Charmion’s career in New York (1897–1898). 118 See Thomas Edison, Trapeze Disrobing Act. Silent Movie, 1901. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYlYTrni4-Q [accessed June 30, 2013]. 119 See for example: http://books.google.ca/books?id=gySNRQAACAAJ&dq=venus+with+biceps&hl=en&sa=X&ei=l_BdUdXACca6iw KI44CACg&ved=0CDgQ6AEwAA [accessed June 30, 2103]. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYlYTrni4-Q http://books.google.ca/books?id=gySNRQAACAAJ&dq=venus+with+biceps&hl=en&sa=X&ei=l_BdUdXACca6iwKI44CACg&ved=0CDgQ6AEwAA http://books.google.ca/books?id=gySNRQAACAAJ&dq=venus+with+biceps&hl=en&sa=X&ei=l_BdUdXACca6iwKI44CACg&ved=0CDgQ6AEwAA 59 My search continued with a visit to the archives of the H. J. Lutcher Stark Center for Physical Culture and Sports in Austin, Texas, 120 which hold a host of information about circus performers and strongmen/women around the turn of the twentieth century. With the help of Dr. Jan Todd, Kim Beckwith and Cindy Slater I gathered much information, especially images, on theater/circus performers and female trapeze artists around the turn of the twentieth century. Unfortunately, though, I found only one picture of Charmion — in which she is seen flexing her left bicep. In between my archival visits, I searched the Proquest Historical Newspaper database, accessed via the University of British Columbia (UBC) library, for information on Charmion. This database covers four newspapers: The Christian Science Monitor (1908–1997); The New York Times (1851–2007); The Wall Street Journal (1889–1993) and the Washington Post (1877– 1994). 121 I found eighteen relevant articles in the New York Times and eight in the Washington Post. In another one of UBC’s collections, this time the ‘19th Century British Library Newspapers’ database, I found several articles about her performance in London, England. These papers included The Era (ten articles); The Morning Post (six articles); The Graphic (2 articles); The Pall Mall Gazette (2 articles); The Standard (2 articles); and The Manchester Times (1 article). I also searched the open-access Gallica database on the website of the Bibliothèque National de France (BNF), 122 resulting in four small articles in L’Art L riq e and one in Le Monde Artiste, indicating that Charmion briefly performed in France, where it seems she was well-received. 120 See http://www.starkcenter.org/ [accessed June 30, 2013]. 121 See http://resources.library.ubc.ca/?searchtype=keywords&search=historical+newspapers [accessed June 30, 2013]. 122 See http://gallica.bnf.fr/ [accessed June 30, 2013]. http://www.starkcenter.org/ http://resources.library.ubc.ca/?searchtype=keywords&search=historical+newspapers http://gallica.bnf.fr/ 60 Though by this time I had collected a large number of newspapers, they did not offer me much specific information other than some details about Charmion’s act and some mixed comments by reviewers. However, a more extensive search online uncovered an open-access database called ‘Fultonhistory.’ 123 While this database, at first sight, may appear somewhat disorganized and confusing because of its various animations, upon clicking ‘Enter,’ a search engine appears on the left-hand side of the screen. The engine allows for a very detailed search of “over 21,790,000 Old New York State Historical Pages.” Searching for “Charmion” and related terms, I found a large number of articles from a variety of New York newspapers. Some of them contained small interviews with Charmion, which allowed me to gain a better understanding about who she was and how she presented herself. Newspaper articles analyzed include, though are not limited to Variety, The New York World, The New York Herald, The Syracuse Journal and The Rochester Democrat and Chronicle. When accessing the American Circus Historical Society website 124 in search for more information on Charmion, I read an inquiry in their Message and Discussion Board section by Linda Hildebrand who wrote that Charmion was her great-aunt. I was able to contact her and she was pleased that someone showed interest in her ancestry. We exchanged several e-mails thereafter. While the enthusiasm of Hildebrand strengthened my belief that my research on Charmion was valuable, she also directed me to Theodore Hull who sent me Charmion’s genealogical tree (at least on her father’s side), confirming her Californian identity (and not French or Australian as some newspapers claimed), and indicating that she married twice and did not have any children. Hildebrand also sent me Charmion’s marriage certificate and some photos 123 See http://fultonhistory.com/ [accessed June 30, 2013]. 124 See http://www.circushistory.org/ [accessed June 12, 2013]. http://fultonhistory.com/ http://www.circushistory.org/ 61 she had found on the internet, and was pleased to have contributed to the study of her great- aunt. 125 Bringing Barbette to Light/Life I became interested in Barbette early in my research when seeing some of the gender ambivalent pictures that surrealist photographer, Man Ray, had taken of him. One picture, in which Barbette’s male genitals are flattened by a girdle and his hair and make-up are that of a woman, is particularly intriguing since it erases those aspects of the body we normally use to identify its male or female identity. 126 During my preliminary search for materials about Barbette, it soon became clear that few researchers had made an attempt to capture his performances and/or personality in books or articles. I started with the UBC online Proquest Historical newspaper database, where I found about nineteen relevant newspaper articles in The New York Times and five in The Washington Post. During my visit to the H. J. Stark Center in Austin, Texas, I also searched the database of the University of Texas for information on Barbette. This resulted in an additional three articles from the Boston Daily Globe and three from the Los Angeles Times. Since Barbette was born in Round Rock, Texas I had hoped to find more archival materials in the H. J. Stark Centre, though without success. Moreover, while I had e-mailed several individuals and archives who I thought would know more about Barbette, this resulted in only one (undated, though useful) article sent to me from the Harry Ransom Humanities 125 In one of our e-mail conversations she wrote: “You can be so proud of this accomplishment and I am certain if Charmion was alive she would be too. It is done so well that I now feel that I now know my great Aunt …. It was so kind of you to mention me in your work.” Personal e-mail communication with Linda Hildebrand, January 20, 2013. 126 See Amy Lyford, “The Lessons of Barbette. Surrealism, Fascism, and the Politics of Sexual Metamorphosis,” in Surrealist Masculinities. Gender Anxiety and the Aesthetics of Post-World War I Reconstruction France, 165-183 (Berkley: University of California Press, 2007), 172. 62 Research Center of the University of Texas, Austin. At the same time, I had started to explore the collection pictures taken of Barbette by Man Ray and brought together in a small book in 1988. 127 These pictures, in combination with written sources, proved instrumental in imagining Barbette’s performance and on-stage personality. Another fruitful avenue was an enquiry into the archives of the Bibliothèque National de France (BNF). Since Barbette had spent much time in France and was well known by influential writers and artists including Jean Cocteau, Man Ray and Drieu La Rochelle, it seemed likely that the BNF would have information about him. I ordered a copy of a file folder containing approximately forty reviews of Barbette’s performances by French critics. The folder also included a poetic and influential description of Barbette’s act by Jean Cocteau published in La Nouvelle Revue Française in 1926. 128 In addition to the American newspapers, the French reviews, and Cocteau’s legendary essay about Barbette, I relied heavily on Francis Steegmuller’s interview with Barbette conducted in the 1960s, as well as insight on Barbette’s act and personality from ballet dancer and friend of Barbette, Anton Dolin. 129 Information about Barbette was also extracted from Jean Cocteau’s biographies by Claude Arnaud and Francis Steegmuller. 130 Barbette has often been described as a ‘mystery,’ especially around gender ambiguity, and in many respects he remains so today. Although he died relatively recently (in the 1970s), very little information about him 127 See Man Ray and Jean Cocteau, “Barbette,” (Borderline: Berlin, 1988). 128 Jean Cocteau, “Le Numéro Barbette.” Extrait de la Nouvelle Revue Française, July 1st (1926): 33-38. The folder had clearly been put together by someone, though I do not know who it was, when it was put together, or for what purpose. 129 Anton Dolin, Ballet Go Round (London: Michael Joseph LTD, 1938). 130 Claude Arnaud, Jean Cocteau (Biographies nrf Gallimard, 2003); Francis Steegmuller, Cocteau A Biography. (Boston, Toronto: Little, Brown and Company, 1970). 63 seems available. Perhaps this is not surprising given that circus/theatre performers often fade into oblivion once out of the limelight. Commemorating Coleman Bessie Coleman drew my attention when writing my Master’s thesis on the history of female aviators in the United States between 1920 and 1940. 131 It was during my research that I observed that most mainstream sources on the history of women in aviation did not address Coleman’s aerial performances as much as they mentioned and/or addressed the aviation careers of her contemporaries like Katherine Stinson, Ruth Law, Amelia Earhart, Louise Thaden, and other white female aviators. To reconstruct the life and career of the only known black female aviator in the 1920s, I relied on two biographies: Doris L. Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator (1993) and Elizabeth Amelia Hadley Freydberg, Bessie Coleman. The Brownskin Lady Bird (1994), as well as a large number of newspaper articles from primarily black newspapers. Most of these black newspapers I was able to access through the Proquest black newspapers database, which was made temporarily available to me by UBC librarian Keith Bunnell. 132 I was able to collect approximately 120 relevant articles from The Chicago Defender; 35 from the Baltimore African American, twenty from The Pittsburgh Courier; six from the New Journal and Guide; six from The Philadelphia Tribune; eight from The New York Amsterdam News; one from The New York 131 See Bieke Gils, “Pioneers of Flight: An Analysis of Gender Issues in United States Civilian (Sport) and Commercial Aviation 1920-1940,” Unpublished Master’s Thesis, University of Windsor, Ontario, 2009). For an electronic version see: http://scholar.uwindsor.ca/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1261&context=etd [accessed June 30, 2013]. 132 The UBC library does not have a subscription to the Proquest black newspaper database: http://www.proquest.com/en-US/catalogs/databases/detail/histnews-bn.shtml [accessed June 30, 2013]. In other words, the UBC library does not usually grant access to this black newspaper database and interested scholars may thus miss out on this rich collection of documents providing insight into African American (popular) culture. http://scholar.uwindsor.ca/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1261&context=etd http://www.proquest.com/en-US/catalogs/databases/detail/histnews-bn.shtml 64 Times (1922); one from the Washington Post (1922); and three articles from other newspapers (Los Angeles Times (1923); The Evening Independent (1926); The Lewiston Daily Sun (1926)). While Bessie Coleman spent several months in Europe and France in particular, sources attesting her European flying performances remain undiscovered and her time there a mystery. French writer Jacques Béal wrote about Coleman in his recent biographical account Coleman L’Ange Noir (2008), relying upon some local French newspapers as his sources, including La Technique Aéronautique, Revue Internationale des Sciences Appliquées à la Locomotion Aérienne (1921–1940), and L'Aérophile (1893–1949). These sources, however did not offer information about Bessie Coleman herself when I looked through them on microfilm during my short visit to the Bibliothèque National de France (BNF) in Paris in December 2010. Béal most likely used them for general context about aviation in France in the 1920s. 133 The two newspapers that may have been able to shed light on Coleman’s time in France, including Pilote de la Somme (1863–1944) and Le Littoral de la Somme. Journal d'Abbeville Journal Maritime, Littéraire, Commercial, Agricole et d'Annonces de l'Arrondissement d'Abbeville (1884–1944), were not accessible at that time. More fruitful perhaps was my contact with two members of the Bessie Coleman Foundation in Washington D.C., an organization that supports African American men and women in their pursuits of aviation. Coleman’s accomplishments are clearly still alive in their community and Coleman seems to be the muse and source of inspiration of many black aviators today. Through my membership in the Bessie Coleman Foundation, I was able to obtain a copy of Elois Coleman Patterson’s very short memoir about her sister Bessie, 133 Béal unfortunately does not work with references in endnotes or footnotes, though only provides a list of the sources used in the end of his book. It is thus difficult to connect facts to their respective sources. 65 which I was not able to find anywhere else. Patterson’s account functioned mostly as a point of verification of what I had found in other sources. Having established how I framed and traced the aerial performers in my study, the next three chapters, in which I present my case studies, will offer more in-depth insights into the performances, careers, and personalities of Charmion, Barbette, and Coleman. The chapters can be read as ‘stand-alone’ or as part of a bigger narrative on aerial history and the ways in which aerial performers helped destabilize gendered, racialized, classed, and sexualized notions of the body and suggested new types of bodily agency in North American and European contexts between 1880 and 1930. 66 Chapter III: Flying, Flirting and Flexing: Charmion’s Trapeze Act, Sexuality, and Physical Culture at the Turn of the Twentieth Century Introduction In 1901, American inventor Thomas Edison (1847 -1931) produced Trapeze Disrobing Act, a three-minute-long silent movie in which a woman, clothed in a long skirt, undresses on a trapeze while two men watch the performance from a theatre balcony. As each layer of clothing is discarded, the men become more enthusiastic, especially when the performer also throws her garters in their direction. Once she is finally revealed in leotard and tights - the attire of a female trapeze artist - the woman performs several tricks on her trapeze, smiles at the camera, and with a sensual gesture of her arms signals the end of her performance. 1 Trapeze Disrobing Act features Laverie Vallee, better known by her stage name “Charmion.” Born in 1875 in Sacramento, California, 2 Charmion was well known for her provocative undressing act on the trapeze, as well as demonstrations of her muscular upper-body, in vaudeville theatres in New York around 1900. She also toured several European cities, where she was usually well received. 3 Most of her performances, however, took place in America. Here, after much initial criticism for her sensual disrobing act, she became a popular icon of  Thanks to Charmion’s relatives Linda Hildebrand and Theodore Hull for their enthusiasm and research help. Thanks also to David Chapman for his useful insights into the history of physical culture. 1 See Thomas Edison, Trapeze Disrobing Act. Silent movie, 1901. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYlYTrni4-Q [accessed June 30, 2013]. 2 See genealogy by Theodore Hull. http://web.archive.org/web/20030213013229/http://home.aol.com/_ht_a/pubdog/fam00187.htm [accessed June 30, 2013] 3 One account suggests that Charmion’s act was not welcome in Berlin, Germany. According to the Boston Daily Globe her performance was considered “a grave offense against decency,” and removed from the program. Boston Daily Globe, “Editorial Points,” October 21, 1898, 6. She seemed, however, well-received in England and France, as a small number of newspaper articles indicate. The Era, a British theater journal even described her as “the acrobatic Venus.” The Era (London, Eng), “The London Music Halls,” August 13, 1898, issue 3125. In France, where she performed in the Folies-Bergère, Le Matin noted that “elle fera certainement courir tout Paris.” Le Matin, November 4, 1898, 3. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jYlYTrni4-Q http://web.archive.org/web/20030213013229/http:/home.aol.com/_ht_a/pubdog/fam00187.htm 67 female health, beauty and acrobatic skill. Nonetheless, despite her extensive transatlantic travels and long-lasting popularity on the vaudeville stage between 1897 and 1910, she has received remarkably little attention from historians. Charmion was among the first female performers in American vaudeville to take full advantage of the developing photography, cinema and print industries to promote her act. As a prominent vaudeville performer and one of Thomas Edison’s first silent movie subjects, she introduced a new dimension to trapeze acts by using her performance as a tool for the sexual titillation of audiences. Although the trapeze was used as early as 1830 for women’s callisthenic exercises 4 and was typically associated with aerial performances of circus troupes, Charmion was one of the first to combine disrobing with swinging on the trapeze in a vaudeville setting. Her successful ploy was to offset initial negative reactions to her provocative disrobing by presenting herself as a physical culture advocate and dress reformer. In concurrence with increasing fascination with the well-developed muscular body during this era, as well as feminist campaigns to reform clothing that restricted a woman’s movements, she framed her performances as instructional examples for women who wished to show their strong bodies and learn how to adopt healthy lifestyles. Her marketing style, which included distribution of professional pictures, postcards, posters, and pins depicting her image to audiences, resembled that of her contemporary, Eugen Sandow, the much celebrated strongman and father of modern- day bodybuilding. This strategy earned her the popular epithet of the “female Sandow.” 5 4 See Steve Gossard, A Reckless Era of Aerial Performance, the Evolution of Trapeze (Normal, Illinois: Illinois State University, 1994), introductory page. See also Jan Todd, Physical Culture and the Body Beautiful. Purposive Exercise in the Lives of American Women (1800-1875) (Macon, Georgia: Mercer University Press, 1998), 106-107. 5 New York NY World, “A Woman in New York With the Muscles of a Sandow,” December 19, 1897. 68 Charmion was just one among a wave of female strongwomen and trapeze artists at the time whose acts quite literally “flew in the face of Victorian values” 6 as they pushed the boundaries of traditional notions of femininity and demonstrated new ways for women to express themselves through bodily reform. In many respects, the theatre’s association with fantasy and spectacle, far-removed from everyday reality, provided a carnivalesque space where traditional notions of femininity could be challenged and destabilized with few repercussions. Unlike those suffragettes and female reformers at the time who were often heavily criticized for their outspokenness and progressive ideas about gender roles and women’s claim to authority over their body, female performers like Charmion tended not to provoke these same criticisms. “[T]heir active, familiar bodies,” Hindson notes, were “rarely directly linked with the politicked icons of change in gender roles, in spite of similarities between the performer, the New Woman, and the suffrage campaign’s links with the theatre.” 7 The popular stage was indeed one of the few places were women could gain rewards for their transgressiveness. 8 Indeed, the increasing presence of female performers on the popular stage at this time, coupled with the public display of their images on posters and postcards, stimulated a questioning and subsequent destabilization of contemporary ideological values and aesthetic ideals regarding the active female body. 9 Certainly, performers like Charmion were powerful symbols of women’s physical emancipation and autonomy, encouraging a more open and free display of the female body. On the other hand, a consequence of the increasing reliance of both 6 Andrew L. Erdman, Blue Vaudeville: Sex, Morals and the Mass Marketing of Amusement, 1895-1915 (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co., 2004), 115. 7 Catherine, Hindson. Female Performance Practice on the Fin-de-Siècle Popular Stage of London and Paris: Experiment and Advertisement (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 2007), 40. 8 Susan A. Glenn, Female Spectacle. The Theatrical Roots of Modern Feminism (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000), 7. 9 Hindson, Female Performance Practice, 3. 69 performers and their managers on newly emerging visual technologies, such as photography and cinema, encouraged a continued objectification of the female body as sexual commodity. “Bodily (re)form,” as Reischer has noted, “both reflects and motivates processes of social reform,” but always occurs “within overarching social structures that ultimately index existing power relations.” 10 Indeed, while performers such as Charmion encouraged female agency, they also had to work within the confines of a patriarchal entertainment industry that simultaneously offered and limited possibilities. Through creative bodily performances, artists such as Charmion were capable of producing new meaning, though they also reproduced existing power hierarchies through their participation in the male-controlled amusement industry. 11 Starting from the premise that Charmion’s performing body was the site of debate and struggle over the transgression and policing of gender boundaries, and following Foster’s (and others) claim that the body writes and is written upon, 12 my aim is to illustrate how Charmion walked a fine line between traditional and modernizing ideas surrounding women’s bodies and their physical capacities. While she alone did not dismantle patriarchal structures that tended to objectify women’s sexuality for the pleasure of men, she helped set new standards for female health and beauty that combined physical fitness, strength, and freer movement of the female body. 10 Erica Reischer and Kathryn S. Koo, “The Body Beautiful: Symbolism and Agency in the Social World,” Annual Review of Anthropology 33 (2004): 315. 11 Glenn, Female Spectacle, 3. 12 See Reischer and Koo, “The Body Beautiful;” Susan Leigh Foster, Choreographing History (Bloomington, Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1995), 15. 70 Image 1: Charmion with feathered hat and fancy dress on the trapeze. Courtesy of the Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. From Unabashed Burlesque to Respectable Vaudeville When Charmion introduced her underdressing act on the trapeze to her audiences in Koster and Bial’s New York City Theatre in 1897, her performance was received with a mixture 71 of curiosity and criticism. The New York Dramatic Mirror, a prominent newspaper commenting on the city’s theatrical scene, reported enthusiastically and at length on her performance. 13 Near the end of the article the reporter admitted, however, that her act was “a vulgar exhibition,” and that it was “certainly to be deplored that any part of the public demands acts of this kind.” 14 Such contradictory reactions were not unusual and were illustrative of the anxieties of a society in transition. Erotic stripping acts similar to Charmion’s had long been associated with burlesque venues which fed working-class male appetites for vulgarity. However, the introduction of such material to middle-class audiences - both male and female - in vaudeville theaters caused a stir. The atmosphere in the United States in the late 19 th century, prior to Charmion’s work, was marked by theatre censorship debates and suppression of performances considered too controversial or sexually provocative. The Committee for the Suppression of Vice, established in 1872, was an initiative of Anthony Comstock, the first federally appointed censor in the United States, who believed that “obscenity – in pictures, magazines, newspapers, and books – was the most virulent foe that Christian Americans would ever battle. It caused crime, debased the institution of marriage, and threatened to corrupt children, particularly young males, the future of the nation and race.” 15 It was not a coincidence that the Committee for the Suppression of Vice had been established soon after the controversial Lydia Thompson and her ‘British Blondes’ had made an appearance on the stage in New York and had started to incorporate burlesque elements in their performances. Thompson and her troupe debuted with the comic play Ixion, in which they played 13 See page 1 of my introductory chapter in which I quote a large part of the New York Dramatic Mirror article in which Charmion’s performance is described at length. 14 New York Dramatic Mirror, December 25, 1897, 18. 15 John H. Houchin, Censorship of the American Theatre in the Twentieth Century (Cambridge, UK: Cambridge University Press, 2003), 36, 37. 72 male roles and poked fun at political scandals and recent divorce cases among the elite. 16 Though initially popular, the performers were later heavily criticized for their “sensual exhibitions of the feminine form,” and their “salacious music.” 17 They inverted categories of gender, used inappropriate puns, exposed arms and legs, and were therefore considered a disgrace to social mores and a threat to women’s traditional roles both inside and outside the theatre. Reactions to Thompson’s supposedly ‘vulgar’ exhibitions seemed rather inconsistent when other performances at the time, such as ballet or plastic posing acts, produced similar degrees - if not more - nudity. In plastic posing acts, also called tableaux vivants, performers replicated well-known works of art, often partially nude and/or covered with a thin layer of silk or white dust. 18 Performers remained static or barely moved. These forms of erotic bodily display were deemed permissible because re-enactments of well-known paintings or Greco-Roman statues were associated with elite culture and therefore considered tasteful. Moreover, ballet was generally considered an activity far more elegant and sophisticated than burlesque performances or the trapeze acrobatics of circuses and theatres. Further illustrious of such allowances within socially acceptable realms of artistic expression at the time were the views of Olive Logan (American actress, author, and suffragette) on nudity in theatres in the 1860s, when Thompson and her troupe were performing in the United States. Though Logan did not fully approve of the nudity displayed by female ballet dancers in The Black Crook, for example, she believed it should be tolerated because it served a higher ‘artistic’ purpose - and also because the performers were French and Italian. “Those women were 16 Ibid., 33, 36. 17 Writer in the New York Times (November 8, 1868), 4. Quoted in Houchin, Censorship of the American Theatre, 34. 18 Erdman, Blue Vaudeville, 5. See also Rachel Shteir, Striptease: The Untold Story of the Girlie Show (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2004), 15. 73 ballet-dancers in France and Italy,” she wrote, “and they represented in their nudity imps and demons. In silence they whirled about the stage; in silence trooped off. Some faint odor of ideality and poetry rested over them.” 19 On the other hand, wrote Logan, burlesque performers “are not devotees of any art … they do not either act, dance, sing, or mime, but they habit themselves in a way which is attractive to an indelicate taste …” 20 During a Suffrage Convention in 1869 she strongly advised women against performing on the stage because “a coarse rage for nudity” had spread in the theaters and had become “the ruling force.” 21 She wrote: I can advise no honorable, self-respecting woman to turn to the stage for support, with its demoralizing influences, which seem to be growing stronger and stronger day by day; where the greatest rewards are won by a set of brazenfaced, clog-dancing creatures, with dyed yellow hair and padded limbs, who have come here in droves from across the ocean. 22 Thus, the denunciation of burlesque performances seemed more concerned with its class- associations than with any degree of nudity. The loud talking, singing, and dancing women who displayed bare legs and arms - and sometimes muscular backs and chests - stood in sharp contrast to the seemingly distant, silently moving ballet dancers or the motionless tableaux vivants performers who were generally associated with the elite. Clearly, suggested Janet Steiger, “nudity or the display of the anatomy of the body had meaning not in itself but within the circumstances of its representation.” 23 It was exactly the ability of its managers to conceal nudity by representing it in a morally acceptable way that made the vaudeville industry one of the most successful mass entertainment 19 Olive Logan, Apropos of Women and Theatres. With a Paper or Two on Parisian Topics (New York Carleton, 1870), 135. 20 Logan, Apropos of Women and Theatres, 115. 21 Ibid., 124. 22 Ibid., 138. 23 Janet Steiger, Bad Women. Regulating Sexuality in Early American Cinema (Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 1995), 57. 74 markets in North America at the turn of the twentieth century. Vaudeville developed in concert with other emerging forms of entertainment such as casinos, music halls, and nickelodeon movie houses, and was popular because of its wide range of performers, including dancers, singers, acrobats, and comedians. In the hands of keen businessmen like Tony Pastor, B.F. Keith, and Edward Albee, vaudeville acts became not only a more-than-profitable business for their owners, but also for many performers. 24 As mentioned above, the success of vaudeville lay in the ability of its managers and performers to maintain a veneer of purity and respectability. Although some of the acts included stripping and very much resembled those performed in burlesque theaters, managers promoted vaudeville as a pleasant leisure time activity for the middle class family. 25 As early as the 1840s, as Kibler indicates, theatre managers had begun to promote their programs as “educational, uplifting, and family oriented, particularly appropriate for mothers and their children.” 26 As more and more women began to attend performances at vaudeville theatres, managers forbade smoking and drinking because these activities were commonly associated with male culture and burlesque - and thus vulgarity. 27 Of course, these strategies not only enabled managers to cater to a growing group of female clients, but also held censors at bay and prevented theatre closings. Charmion the Parisian Sensation 28 Theatre managers had to be strategic about which performers and acts to include in their programs in order to satisfy a variety of audiences. Furthermore, performers also had to navigate 24 See Erdman, Blue Vaudeville. 25 Ibid., 4. 26 M. Alison Kibler, Rank Ladies. Gender and Cultural Hierarchy in American Vaudeville (Chapel Hill and London: The University of North Carolina Press, 1999), 7. 27 Ibid., 7. 28 New York Dramatic Mirror, December 25, 1897, 18. 75 between the sometimes different wishes of their managers and audiences, their need to make a living, and their personal attitudes and aspirations. To portray themselves favourably, many performers, including Charmion, created and advertised their own “stage biographies.” 29 Though born in Sacramento, California, on stage she introduced herself as French such that newspapers began to call her “the Parisian Sensation.” 30 Paris was considered a major hub of extravagant and liberal living, culture, and performing arts at this time. Thus, to maintain a naughty appeal that was also permissible, performers often used associations with the city. The choice of Charmion’s stage name was thus deliberate. Adoption of a French stage identity by Charmion may also have been influenced by Florenz Ziegfield (1867-1932), well-known American Broadway impresario who was, according to one account, her manager at the beginning of her career. 31 Ziegfield often strategically associated his performers with French culture, linking his scantily clothed ‘Ziegfield Girls,’ for example, with the successful female Folies Bergère dancers of Paris in order to escape public censure in the United States. According to Robert Allen, Ziegfield’s secret lay in his ability to package feminine stage sexuality in such a way that his audiences did not connect the Ziegfield 29 In her paper on Charmion’s contemporary, strongwoman Josephine Blatt, better known as Minerva, Todd writes that “one of the problems with historical research related to circus performers and theatre people is that they do not only adopt stage names but also create “stage biographies…” Moreover, she notes that many circus and vaudeville performers had different acts during different stages in their careers and adopted different stage names, often making it difficult for historians to trace them. See Jan Todd, “Sex! Murder! Suicide! New Revelations about the “Mystery of Minerva,” Iron Game History 10 (4) (2009): 8, 7-21. 30 New York Dramatic Mirror, December 25, 1897, 18. See also: Glenn Falls Morning Star, Tuesday, May 10, 1898, 2; Syracuse Journal, “Her Muscular Development,” September 1901. 31 Robert H. Davis, Over My Left Shoulder. A Panorama of Men and Events, Burlesques and Tragedies, Cabbages and Kings and Sometimes W and Y (New York: D. Appleton and Company, 1926), 127. Whether or not Ziegfield was in fact Charmion’s manager is uncertain. It may well have been that she, like other performers, claimed association with the successful and popular businessman to promote her own act. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Folies_Berg%C3%A8re 76 dancers with the working-class sexuality of burlesque, but rather associated them with “the cosmopolitan worldliness of Paris.” 32 Charmion’s adoption of the trappings of a French stage identity to gain popularity was not the only trick in her repertoire. When asked why and how she conceived her act, her response was: At the time that I thought seriously about disrobing whole on the trapeze, it was a novelty and a thing unheard of. I immediately resolved to adopt the measure. I thought just like this: it wasn’t extraordinary for a woman to perform on the trapeze, in fact it was so common that it was a difficult matter to make a novelty of it. … As far as disrobing is concerned, the act is perfectly harmless; however, there is sufficient suggestiveness to it. ... That is what the people like, just a hint of suggestiveness and then they are eager to witness the performance even though they might criticize the feat. 33 Charmion was clearly sensitive to the desires and apprehensions of her audience. As she acknowledged, work on the trapeze in itself was nothing new. However, disrobing in mid-air was unheard of and something that not many performers before her had dared to do. It was something worth trying. One reason for her success was thus her ability to breathe new meaning into the use of the trapeze. Around the turn of the twentieth century, flying circus troupes most commonly consisted of three or more performers working on one or more trapezes. Charmion’s act, on the other hand, was a solo performance on a static or ‘fixed’ trapeze. The term fixed, however, did not imply that there was no swinging involved, but that the act primarily consisted of “various balancing feats, 32 Robert C. Allen, Horrible Prettiness. Burlesque and American Culture (Chapel Hill and London: The University of North Carolina Press, 1991), 245. Similar strategies were adopted by other performers as well. Though not directly linked with Ziegfield, Vander Clyde chose the French sounding name “Barbette” and wore extravagant dresses ornamented with feathers and diamonds. Starting from a modest working-class background, Barbette’s exquisite performances were soon remarked upon by members of the French intellectual elite, including poet Jean Cocteau and photographer Man Ray. Raving about Barbette’s elegance, sophistication, and perfect performance, they brought him fame and made his connections with other famous artists and performers possible. See Chapter IV for a more elaborate description and analysis of Barbette’s act. 33 Syracuse Journal, “Her Muscular Development,” September 1901. 77 such as the head stand and hanging by the instep, the heel or the neck.” 34 The solo-trapeze, like the flying trapeze, evoked a sense of freedom, though was not meant for performing big flying movements. Rather, it lent itself extremely well to sensual posing and gesturing, the elements upon which the appeal of Charmion’s act was largely based. In their work on women’s aerial history, Tait and Stoddart argue that gender was performed differently by solo-trapeze performers compared to those working on the flying trapeze. Flying troupes often consisted of both men and women who executed similar acrobatic feats and thus required equal amounts of muscular strength and agility. In combination with the distance between audiences in the stands and trapeze flyers high above in the rooftop, gender categories could not always be distinguished clearly. 35 Unlike the female acrobat on a circus flying trapeze who could “only signify her feminine identity at the beginning and end of the trick, standing barefoot on her toes, one hip forward, her body at an angle, and one arm raised or in a backward bend,” 36 for female solo trapezists like Charmion, the performance of gender and sexuality “in the form of feminized static poses” constituted the very essence of the trick. 37 Her act on the static trapeze, especially the undressing part, was thus specifically designed to titillate her audiences. By contrast, the primary goal of flying trapeze performances was to successfully execute a difficult acrobatic routine, while any possible erotic character harboured by the performance was often (though not necessarily) a by-product of the act. In circus and circuslike settings such as the vaudeville theatre, the blurring of gender boundaries was clearly permissible. These venues were topsy-turvy spaces that invited audiences 34 See Antony Hippisley Coxe, A Seat in the Circus (Hamden, Connecticut: Archon Books, 1980 (originally published in 1951 by Evans Brothers, London, England), 158. 35 See Peta Tait, Circus Bodies. Cultural Identity in Aerial Performance (London and New York: Routledge, 2005). 36 Peta Tait, “Feminine Free Fall: A Fantasy of Freedom,” Theatre Journal 48 (1) (1996): 29. 37 See Helen Stoddart, Rings of Desire: Circus History and Representation (UK: Manchester University Press, 2000), 175. http://webcat2.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Circus%20bodies&searchCode=TALL&searchType=1 78 into a realm of spectacle and fantasy. Moreover, as Shteir points out, the act of flying or being suspended above the audience on a trapeze “softened the salacious nature of taking off one’s clothes in public” because “the androgenous figure of the acrobat seemed closer to a supernatural being than a real man or woman.” 38 Charmion also confused her audiences by combining feminine and erotic undressing with muscularity, a characteristic generally associated with working class masculinity. Acts like hers were popular because they explicitly stretched the boundaries of socially accepted representations of the sexual female body without being seen as serious threats to the established gender order. Though Charmion’s act played on the fin de siècle fascination with nudity, she did not strip entirely naked. 39 After disrobing she was “revealed in the conventional costume of the female acrobat,” 40 including a leotard and flesh-coloured tights. Although some censors at the time argued that Charmion’s acrobat attire was indecent, it was not her revealing bodysuit or her daring trapeze acrobatics that seemed to provoke their reactions. The titillating aspect of her act stemmed from the process of disrobing, not so much from its result. This became particularly clear in 1897 when she was asked to perform in the Astoria Theater in New York for elite members of the Society of Musical Arts. After several weeks of negotiation, a reporter from the New York Herald wrote that the Society had finally decided that Charmion’s act “would bring spice and relief to their confreres.” However, Charmion was asked to modify her act. The disrobing part, including the throwing of garters into the audience, was to be discarded and she “was simply to show what could be accomplished by [a] woman in the way of muscular 38 Shteir, Striptease: The Untold Story of the Girlie Show, 52. 39 The term “fin de siècle” originally referred to the end of the 19 th century and the transition into the 20 th in France, but is also often used in North American literature to indicate similar transitions in North-America. 40 New York Dramatic Mirror, December 25, 1897, 18. 79 development without losing that symmetry of propriety which is one of woman’s chief charms.” 41 When Charmion first appeared on stage at this performance, she was entirely enveloped in a white opera cloak. This was the moment suprême because the audience had to speculate what was hidden under the cloak. Was it a fully clothed Charmion - meaning she would perform her disrobing act - or was it ‘just’ Charmion the trapeze performer? “Who could compute or interpret the thousands of thoughts and fancies, hopes and fears that were thrilling the people before her?” 42 When Charmion threw off her cloak, she revealed pink tights, a green bodice, and trunks and held a bouquet of roses. A “sentiment of true disappointment pervaded the audience,” the Herald reporter wrote, when it became apparent that “the most thrilling portion of Charmion’s performance was to be eliminated.” 43 Though her acrobatics on the trapeze, followed by an exhibition of her arm and back muscles seemed to have been well received, there was a clear desire to witness Charmion in the process of disrobing, rather than already disrobed. With regards to undressing as far as tights and leotard without any skin being revealed, Charmion asked, “What harm can be there?” 44 Roland Barthes would suggest that disrobing - taking clothes off layer by layer - constitutes “a spectacle based on fear.” 45 Though there was a clear desire on the part of the (male) audience to see the disrobed female body, there might also be the fear that once this body was revealed, there was nothing left to lust for. Once a body was revealed, the tension built up during the disrobing, involving erotic poses and gestures, 41 New York Herald, “Muscular Arms versus Musical Arts,” January 19, 1898. 42 Ibid. 43 Ibid. 44 Ibid. 45 Roland Barthes. Mythologies, Trans. By Annette Lavers (Union Square, New York: Hill and Wang, 1972), 84. 80 disappeared because the female body was now “desexualized.” 46 The erotic appeal of performances like Charmion’s thus lay in the uncertainty, unease, as well as desire that emanated from the very undoing of clothing. A Woman with the Muscles of Sandow 47 Part of what constituted Charmion’s attraction was her highly developed upper-body muscularity, which she displayed while striking daring, often erotic, poses. 48 “Young women who are ambitious to rival their brothers in muscular development,” the New York World informed, “would do well to follow the example set by La Petite Charmion” whose “muscles stand out like great knots when she strikes a pugilistic attitude.” 49 Charmion’s most provocative pose was probably the one where she flexed both arms over her shoulders and displayed her naked back, for this suggested that the front of her body was also naked. Few strongwomen at the time displayed this kind of nudity, though a notable exception was trapeze artist Luisita Leers who posed in a similar fashion to Charmion during her career in the 1920s and ’30s. The exhibition of muscularity, by means of poses reminiscent of ancient Greco-Roman statues, was revived at the end of the ninetieth century by self-proclaimed physical culturist, Eugen Sandow. His fascination with sculpting the body brought him fame as an example of a perfect and racially superior white male. He organized competitions that sought out perfect 46 Ibid. As also Showalter has pointed out, “… striptease is based on the logic of the male gaze. … The dancer teases the audience as the text teases its readers, with the promise of an ultimate revelation that is infinitely postponed, veil after veil, garment after garment is removed, but it is the delay in the stripping that makes it exciting, not the stripping itself, because no sooner has one secret been revealed than we lose interest in it and crave another…” Elaine Showalter, Sexual Anarcy. Gender and Culture at the Fin de Siècle (New York: Viking, 1990), 166. 47 New York NY World, “A Woman in New York With the Muscles of Sandow,” December 19, 1897. 48 See David Chapman and Patricia Vertinsky, Venus with Biceps: A Pictorial History of Muscular Women (Vancouver, BC : Arsenal Press, 2010). 49 New York NY World, “A Woman in New York With the Muscles of a Sandow,” December 19, 1897. 81 muscular development in men and so became the founding father of modern-day bodybuilding. 50 Supported by scientists, who shared his fascination with the ‘perfect’ male body, Sandow maintained a cult following and his posing was seen as an “act of mass self-definition.” 51 This new kind of masculine identity formation, according to Budd, was also a push “against the prevailing experience of the machine age,” 52 in which the body seemed to have lost all its significance. It was also an attempt to preserve white male supremacy, which had come under attack from immigrants, the working class, African Americans, and the New Woman. 53 Charmion, like many performers at the time, claimed association with the popular Sandow to promote her act. The headlines for one of her first performances in 1897 pronounced her “a woman in New York with the muscles of Sandow” and added that she had a back and biceps like an oak tree and an arm larger than strongman Corbett’s. 54 According to another report, Charmion measured her strength against three strongmen, including Sandow, and “showed that she had nearly half as much leg and back power” as him. 55 It is unlikely that this competition actually took place, but it illustrates how Charmion used the popularity of other artists to advertise her own act and be regarded as an authority on women’s health and physical culture. 50 Michael Anton Budd, The Sculpture Machine. Physical Culture and Body Politics in the Age of Empire. Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan Press LTD, 1997, 60-61; Jacqueline Brady, “Is a Hard Woman Good to Find? Reconsidering the Modern Amazon Project,” Studies in Gender and Sexuality 2 (3) (2001): 217-18. 51 Budd, The Sculpture Machine, 60. 52 Ibid., 75. 53 Marcy W. Murray. “Strong Women and Cross-dressed Men: Representations of Gender by Circus Performers during the Golden Age of the American Circus, 1860-1930,” Bandwagon (May-June 2004): 18. For an extensive account of Eugen Sandow’s career and the history of early body building, see David Chapman, Sandow the Magnificent. Eugen Sandow and the Beginnings of Body Building (Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1994). 54 New York NY World, “A Woman in New York With the Muscles of a Sandow,” December 19, 1897. For more info on James J. Corbett, see Kim Beckwith and Jan Todd, “Requiem for a Strongman: Reassessing the Career of Professor Louis Attila,” Iron Game History 7 (2-3) (2002): 42-55. 55 Glens Falls Morning Star, Tuesday, May 10, 1898, 2. 82 Image 2: Charmion flexing her right bicep. Courtesy of the Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. Charmion was not the only ‘female Sandow’ at the time, nor the strongest. Katie Sandwina, with her six-foot height, 200-pound weight, and extraordinary feats of strength, also seemed to defy traditional definitions of femininity. She was praised as “Germany’s Beautiful Herculean Venus” and was often credited with the status of “the most perfect female figure ever 83 seen.” 56 Strong and beautiful performers who gained popularity in the public sphere at this time, like Sandwina and Charmion, were directly linked with important social movements of the day, as Todd points out. These included, especially, eugenics, women’s suffrage, physical culture and “New Womanhood.” 57 Like Sandow, described by eugenicists as a prime specimen of a superior race, Charmion and Sandwina were frequently referred to as examples of perfect female health and beauty and represented the ‘New Woman.’ The New Woman of the theatre and circus was not usually directly associated with any kind of radical women’s movement. According to Glenn, however, female performers between 1880 and 1910 constituted a kind of “proto feminist vanguard.” Before the advent of organized women’s movements, performers like Charmion played crucial roles in women’s demands for the right to sexual expressiveness and autonomy over their bodies and identities. Though there may not have been a widely shared set of ideological values or a specific political agenda among these performers, their unconventional acts laid the groundwork for feminism even before the term was coined. 58 Both on- and off-stage, Charmion advocated female agency by encouraging women to be more physically active: Every woman ought to exercise on getting up in the morning. Take a drink of cold water, then exercise with small dumbbells – if you have none, take flatirons – going through motions with arms up and down, bolding the weights out of arm’s length, etc.: keep this up for ten minutes. Be sure to take a little walk each day in the fresh air. If you stay indoors any length of time, say two days, without going out, as some women do, you will become melancholy. Remember that exercise 56 Jan Todd, Reconsidering the Career of Katie Sandwina: Germany's Herculean Venus – NASSH proceedings 2007, 64 (2 pages). 57 Jan Todd, “Center Ring: Katie Sandwina and the Construction of Celebrity,” Iron Game History 10 (1) (November 2007): 6. 58 Glenn, Female Spectacle, 4, 6. 84 also works on the mind and really makes you enjoy life. You will never find an athlete, man or woman, nervous. 59 To enable free movement of the body, she also advised women not to wear corsets or long skirts. 60 Image 3: Charmion posing provocatively without corset, circa 1898. Courtesy of the Billy Rose Theatre Division, The New York Public Library for the Performing Arts, Astor, Lenox and Tilden Foundations. 59 Rochester Democrat and Chronicle, “The Drama: Synopsis,” Sunday, March 20, 1904; See also: Marion Pilot, “Woman’s Department, “Charmion Rules,” October 27, 1904. According to the Utica Sunday Tribune, Charmion even wrote a book for women on “how to enjoy life by taking simple exercises,” which, according to the report, attained “an immense sale” and led to the adoption of her system in many leading schools and colleges for women around 1906. No information on this book has surfaced, however, and it may very well be that Charmion made it up as part of her stage biography. Utica Sunday Tribune, “Charmion, The Perfect Woman at the Orpheum this Week,” November 23, 1906. 60 Sunday World, “She Hangs by Her Heel in Mid-air,” January 9, 1989. 85 Links between Charmion’s act and phenomena such as physical culture and dress reform were clearly influenced by physical culture proponents and health reformers such as Bernarr Macfadden. Macfadden published a large number of articles in his Physical Culture Magazine. 61 In these articles, he strongly advocated against the corset and for gender equality through physical activity. 62 “[T]here should be but very slight differences between the strength of man and woman,” and “the proverbial feminine weakness is simply the result of growing into womanhood eased by the terrible corset,” he claimed. He also frequently used female acrobats, including trapeze performers, to illustrate the capacity of women to be as strong as men - while maintaining femininity. About the Moulier sisters trapeze duo, who, like Charmion, also performed in New York around 1900, he said: “These sisters are but mere girls in age, and still they perform feats equal and even superior to some of the best male athletes…” 63 Macfadden and Charmion thus promoted similar ideas: women’s liberation from restrictive clothing, women’s ability to develop muscular strength like men, and the benefits of such ideas for their health and well-being. Whether or not Charmion’s strategies to popularize these ideas were successful remains questionable. Unlike Sandow, whose promotion of the muscular male body was perceived necessary for the preservation of family values, nation, and empire in a time of social anxieties around the “unman,” 64 strongwomen in vaudeville were often perceived to wear their bodies in “the wrong way” 65 and were taken less seriously. Whereas the 61 By 1901 the magazine had reached a circulation of 150,000. Endres, Kathleen L. “The Feminism of Bernarr Macfadden: Physical Culture Magazine and the Empowerment of Women,” Media History Monographs 13 (2) (2011): 4; See also Allen Guttmann, Women’s ports. A History (Columbia University Press: New York, 1991), 98. 62 See Endres, “The Feminism of Bernarr Macfadden.” 63 Bernarr A. Macfadden, “Strong, Beautiful Bodies for Girls and Young Women,” Physical Culture, June 1900. See also Guttmann, Women’s ports, 98. 64 Budd, The Sculpture Machine, 61, 79. 65 Ibid., 67; See also Murray, “Strong Women and Cross-dressed Men,” 19. 86 muscular male body such as Sandow’s was perceived as ‘in control,’ the muscular and erotic female performer signified the opposite: she was out of her place and her body out of control. One of the technologies that both enhanced and restricted a woman’s agency around the turn of the twentieth century was the camera - or the “sculpture machine,” as Budd puts it. 66 Muscular and/or erotic male and female bodies could now be “mass produced, mass marketed, and mass distributed.” 67 Like Sandow, whose image could be found in various magazines, on postcards, and on posters, Charmion took advantage of the developing photography industry and distributed postcards and pins with images of herself flexing her muscles or striking sensual poses on the trapeze. To View and Be Viewed The developing photography, print, and cinema industries at this time made it both possible and much simpler for managers and performers to promote acts through the widespread distribution of alluring images. Although advertising through photographic and cinematographic representations seemed effective ways to entice potential spectators, it also reinforced ideas about the female body as a sexual object. In the case of photography, Sontag has pointed out that it “turns people into objects that can be symbolically possessed.” 68 Similarly, Allen suggests that media representations around the turn of the twentieth century - be they postcards, mutoscopes, stereo viewers, or motion pictures - “reduced the subject of feminine sexual spectacle to a tiny icon, which could be bought or collected,” 69 and thus fetishized. In the case of the mutoscope 66 Budd, The Sculpture Machine, 58. 67 Brady, “Is a Hard Woman Good to Find?,” 217. 68 Susan Sontag, On Photography (New York, London: Anchor Books Doubleday, 1973, 1974, 1977, 1990), 14. 69 Allen, Horrible Prettiness, 270. 87 (like a View-master), even the movement of a female character could be controlled by the spectator, who could decide the speed at which the cards flipped by. 70 The increasing interest in viewing moving bodies at the fin de siècle was initiated by inventors and scientists who were fascinated with measuring various aspects of the human body, including the mechanisms of movement. Their studies, scientific at first, gave rise to the development of cinematography, a technology that would later become popular and commercialized, eventually taking over the role of vaudeville as the most widespread entertainment medium. During the first years of cinematography’s development, however, vaudeville theatres played important roles in bringing cinema to the masses. Theatre managers used this new and fascinating technology of film to attract spectators, while continuing to provide staged entertainment. The synergy of vaudeville and the invention of cinematography permitted curious audiences to view moving bodies on display: either on stage, through ‘peepholes,’ or on the big screen. Silent movies like Trapeze Disrobing Act followed earlier experiments of inventors and scientists that captured and registered the movements of animals and humans through sequencing drawings and photographs. Prominent figures in these pioneering works were French scientist Etienne-Jules Marey (1830-1904) and his contemporary, Anglo-American photographer Eadweard Muybridge (1830-1904). Though Marey seemed to approach his experiments primarily from a scientific angle, Muybridge was clearly more interested in the artistic value of bodies in motion, putting emphasis on narrative, costume, décor, and thus mise-en-scène. 71 While Marey almost exclusively used male characters in his work, Muybridge photographed the 70 Ibid., 270-71. 71 Mary Ann Doane, “Technology and Sexual Difference: Apocalyptic Scenarios at Two “Fins de Siècle,” Differences: A Journal of Feminist Cultural Studies 9 (2) (1998): 10-11 88 moving bodies of both men and women, often both entirely unclad. However, clear distinctions between the depictions of each gender can be observed. In Muybridge’s work, as Allen suggests, male movement is represented in terms of athleticism or work, while female movement is presented as a sexual spectacle. 72 Indeed, Muybridge’s depictions of men often involved athletic feats (e.g. boxing, fencing, jumping, and running) without explicit contextualization. Depictions of women, on the other hand, emphasized gracefulness and/or were often set in a ‘domestic’ framework that involved being, or becoming, naked. In one sequence of photographs, for example, Muybridge depicts two naked women taking a bath (1884-85). 73 In another one, a naked woman goes to bed (1887), 74 and a final series captures two naked women dancing. 75 The difference between the depictions of men and women, in Berger’s view, is that “men act and women appear.” Men signify action and are the ones who watch. Women are the surveilled, the ones being observed by a male gaze. 76 Muybridge was not the only expert whose work catered to a primarily male desire to view sexualized displays of (fe)male bodies. In North America, Edisons’ Kinetograph Department, founded in 1894, as well as William Kennedy Dickson’s (1860 –1935) Mutoscope and Biograph Company, established in 1895, produced a large number of short, titillating films. Before these movies appeared on the big screen, they could be viewed through kinetoscopes or peepholes, which Edison had installed in cities across America. 77 In concert with other smaller 72 Allen, Horrible Prettiness, 263. 73 See http://www.masters-of-photography.com/M/muybridge/muybridge_bucket_of_water_full.html [accessed June 30, 2013]. 74 See http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/image/V0048662ET.html [accessed June 30, 2013]. 75 See http://beingsakin.wordpress.com/2011/03/26/if-you-dance-with-me/ [accessed June 30, 2013]. 76 John Berger, Ways of Seeing (British Broadcasting Corporation and Penguin books, 1972), 47. Italics are his. 77 See, Smithsonian Institution, “Dancing in the Dark,” Smithsonian Magazine, March 2006. Retrieved from http://web.archive.org/web/20061111131341/http://www.smithsonianmag.com/issues/2006/march/presence.htm [accessed June 5, 2012]; Allen, Horrible Prettiness, 265. http://www.masters-of-photography.com/M/muybridge/muybridge_bucket_of_water_full.html http://images.wellcome.ac.uk/indexplus/image/V0048662ET.html http://beingsakin.wordpress.com/2011/03/26/if-you-dance-with-me/ http://web.archive.org/web/20061111131341/http:/www.smithsonianmag.com/issues/2006/march/presence.htm 89 movie companies in North America and bigger ones in Europe, 78 Edison turned moving bodies into spectacles and movie making into a commercial endeavour. 79 It was thus no coincidence that Charmion’s vaudeville act became the subject of one of Edison’s films. Her act fed the interest of audiences in sexual spectacle, and Edison opened one of his first kinetoscope parlours in close proximity to Koster and Bial’s theatre in New York, where Charmion performed on a frequent basis. The cross-pollination between vaudeville and cinema, both depicting erotic bodies in motion, according to Musser, had already been initiated in 1894 when Edison recruited bodybuilder Eugen Sandow to pose with his muscles before the camera. 80 The first woman to appear in Edison’s films was Spanish dancer Carmencita (1894). 81 Like Sandow and Charmion, Carmencita was a popular performer at Koster and Bial’s theatre and her “intense sexuality,” 82 evoked by her flamboyant dancing, made her an interesting film character. Sandow (1894), Carmencita (1894) and Trapeze Disrobing Act (1901), along with other movies produced by Edison and the Mutoscope and Biograph Company, could be categorized, according to Gunning, as “the cinema of attractions.” 83 The term refers to early films produced 78 George Méliès, the Lumière and Pathé brothers in France; Robert W. Paul, James Williamson, G.A. Smith and Cecil Hepworth in England. 79 See, Smithsonian Institution, “Dancing in the Dark;” Allen, Horrible Prettiness, 265. 80 Charles Musser, “At the Beginning. Motion Picture Production, Representation and Ideology at the Edison and Lumière Companies,” in The Silent Cinema Reader, ed. Lee Grieveson and Peter Krämer, 15-30 (London and New York: Taylor and Francis, 2004), 19-20; Thomas Edison, Sandow, 1894, http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PfqtorMruo [accessed June 30, 2013]. 81 Thomas Edison, Carmencita (1894), see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-15jwb1ZTMA [accessed June 30, 2013]. 82 Musser, “At the Beginning. Motion Picture Production,” 22. 83 Tom Gunning, “ “Now you see it, now you don’t,” The Temporality of the Cinema of Attractions,” In The Silent Cinema Reader, ed. Lee Grieveson and Peter Krämer, 41-50 (London and New York: Routledge, 2004), 42. This term offers a historical concept of film spectatorship which takes its cue from modes of fascination prevalent in early cinema, feeding on attractions such as the magical and illusionist power of filmic representation, its kinetic and temporal manipulations (not yet subordinated to character movement and the chronological momentum of linear narrative) and, above all, an openly exhibitionist tendency epitomized by the recurring look of actors at the camera. With the standardization of the narrative film (in the U.S. around 1906-07) such “primitive” attractions were http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Robert_W._Paul http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/James_Williamson,_film_pioneer http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/George_Albert_Smith_%28inventor%29 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6PfqtorMruo 90 between 1893 and 1908, whose sole purpose was “to display,” and in some cases “to shock,” rather than to tell a story. 84 Like Edison’s Sandow and Carmencita, which present scenes without storylines and put emphasis on the body as spectacle, 85 Trapeze Disrobing Act also shows a series of actions and poses that are meant to titillate and shock, while lacking a clear narrative structure. As Gunning points out, movies like Trapeze Disrobing Act invoked “the temporality of surprise, shock and trauma, the sudden rupture of stability by the irruption of transformation or the curtailing of erotic promise.” 86 How did meanings associated with Charmion’s performance on stage possibly differ from those associated with her performance on the screen, and what may the explosion of media images around the turn of the twentieth century have meant in terms of women’s agency more broadly? German literary critic Walter Benjamin believed that the introduction of photography and cinema at this time led to “a crisis of theater” and authenticity. 87 He meant that, while staged performance produced direct contact between performer and audience, cinema caused a temporal incongruence between the two. The camera made the performer and her/his image “separable, transportable,” 88 leaving her/him without any kind of interaction with the audience or control over its reactions. Staged performances such as Charmion’s relied very much on interactions between performer and audience. Charmion herself kept up “a running talk” while doing her tricks and systematically suppressed – if not pressed into service – by narrative strategies of viewer absorption and identification. Rather than disappear, Gunning contends, the cinema of attraction continued “underground,” both in certain avant-garde film practices and as a component of particular genres (e.g. the musical). Miriam Hansen, “Benjamin, Cinema and Experience, “The Blue Flower in the Land of Technology,” New German Critique 40, Special Issue on Weimar Film Theory (1987): 180. 84 Gunning, “ “Now you see it, now you don’t,” 42, 49. 85 Musser, “At the Beginning,” 20. 86 Gunning, “ “Now you see it, now you don’t,” 49. 87 Walter Benjamin, Illuminations (New York: Harcourt, Brace & World, 1968 (originally published in 1955)), 231. 88 Ibid., 233. 91 with her “peculiar chirpy voice” she held “conversations with two or three people in the audience all the time.” 89 She made direct contact with her spectators and seemed to verbally guide them through her performance. From short interviews in a number of newspapers, it becomes clear that Charmion intentionally used the stage as a platform to convey her beliefs on what the female body should look like and how women should aspire to be physical active, have a balanced diet, and remove clothing that would hamper free movement. The particular interaction between performer and spectator that seemed so crucial to Charmion’s performance was absent in Trapeze Disrobing Act. Not only did the silent movie leave the interpretation of her act entirely up to her audience, it also “allowed for a view of the woman’s body whereby even if she returned the spectator’s gaze, it would always be incommensurable with the spectator’s.” 90 Referring to female dancers in the theatre, Allen suggests that the body of the performer and the gaze of the spectator, though separated by the footlights and their respective roles, occupied the same space, the same time, and the same materiality. In a photographic or cinematographic image, however, the female performer’s “returning gaze ha[d] less power to unsettle since the gulf that separated the displayed woman from the man who looked at her was an unbridgeable, material gulf.” 91 Indeed, while photographic and cinematographic representations of female performers may have made the female body more visible to the public, such images took away, or at least changed, the relative agency that emanated from these women’s original performances. 92 The introduction of cinema 89 Dash, “Hammerstein’s,” Variety, 1909. 90 Lauren Rabinovitz, For the Love of Pleasure. Women, Movies and Culture in Turn-of-the-Century Chicago (New Brunswick, New Jersey and London: Rutgers University Press, 1998), 36. 91 Allen, Horrible Prettiness, 271. 92 Discussion exists about whether or not the early movies such as Trapeze Disrobing Act were voyeuristic, exhibitionist or both. According to Gunning, they were more exhibitionist than voyeuristic because the protagonist was fully aware of her audience and made eye contact with the camera on several occasions. Nevertheless, as 92 at this time thus intensified the divide between women pushing the boundaries as agents of their own sexuality and a movie industry that tried to capitalize on the female body as a sexual object. Rabinovitz argues that Trapeze Disrobing Act was unlike some of Edison’s other first silent movies in which women took the central role. In his movie What Happened on Twenty- third Street, New York (1901), for example, a woman is caught by surprise when she walks over an air vent that lifts her skirt to the amusement of some male onlookers. Unlike the action in Edison’s Trapeze Disrobing Act, where Charmion makes eye contact with her audience (including the enthusiastic men on the balcony to her right and the camera), the woman in What Happened on Twenty-third Street is depicted as naïve and unaware of the public gaze. Rabinovitz observes that Charmion’s inscribed look back at the camera suggests a tacit contract between her and both real and implied spectators, an agreement to her status as looked-at subject. … Her movements, her stripping of clothes as she reveals more of her body, her athletic prowess on the swing makes her a different kind of subject [from the woman who is featured in What Happened on Twenty-third Street]. 93 Swinging Between Freedom and Constraint As the comparison between Trapeze Disrobing Act and What Happened on Twenty-Third Street indicates, women’s increased visibility at the turn of the twentieth century can simultaneously be read as liberating and restricting. On the one hand, performers like Charmion challenged Victorian notions of femininity and the female body and encouraged women’s freer bodily movement, expression, and display. On the other hand, the ways in which performers like Charmion marketed their stage identities by making use of new visual technologies contributed Musser points out, despite the film’s seeming exhibitionist character, the two men on the balcony in Trapeze Disrobing Act “authorized the film spectators’ voyeurism.” See Charles Musser, Before the Nickelodeon. Edwin S. Porter and the Edison Manufacturing Company (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), 179. 93 Rabinovitz, For the Love of Pleasure, 30. 93 to a continued objectification of the female body as a sexual commodity. So while “the female body became the visual trope of the period’s new mass culture identities,” 94 it came at a cost. As Phelan notes, “[v]isibility is a trap, it summons surveillance and the law; it provokes voyeurism, fetishism, the colonial/imperial appetite for possession.” 95 Moreover, normalization of the display of female nudity and sexuality represented by ‘perfectly shaped’ vaudeville performers, also increased the desire and seeming requirement for other women to live up to such standards. Charmion, for example, claimed that “her figure was within reach… and therefore ordinary women might be expected to have ‘perfect’ figures as well.” 96 Regardless of whether or not performances like Charmion’s at the time were read as liberating or restricting, they helped question and challenge traditional notions of the (Victorian) female body as passive, weak, and physically unfit. At a time when fear was simmering that provocative performances by women (or performances by women tout court) “had the capacity to eradicate the boundaries between classes and genders, instigating political and sexual anarchy,” 97 Charmion played a pioneering role. And though female transgressors like her may not, at first sight, have been symbols able to move masses of women to oppose patriarchal values, at least they could show, Davis has noted, “the good that could be done by the woman out of her place,” and “had the potential to inspire a few females to exceptional action and feminists to reflection about the capacities of women….” 98 94 Hindson, Female Performance Practice, 42. 95 Peggy Phelan, Unmarked. The Politics of Performance (London & New York: Routledge, 1996), 6-7. 96 Quoted in Erdman, Blue Vaudeville, 117. 97 Houchin, Censorship of the American Theatre, 4. 98 Natalie, Zemon Davis, “Women on Top,” Society and Culture in Early Modern France: Eight Essays, 124-51 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1975), 133. 94 Chapter IV: Le Numéro Barbette: Destabilizing Gender on the High Wire, the Rings and the Flying Trapeze …ne ’o b iez pas, no s sommes dans cette mi re magiq e d théâtre, dans cette boite à ma ices où e vrai n’a p s co rs, o e nat re n’a p s a c ne va e r, où es petites tai es s’a ongent, es ha tes stat res rapetissent, où des tours de cartes et de passe-passe, dont le public ne soupçonne pas la difficulté, parviennent seuls à tenir le coup. Jean Cocteau, “Le Numéro Barbette, ” 1926. 1 Don’t forget, we are in the magic light of the theatre, in this trick factory where truth has no currency, where anything natural has no value, where the short are made tall and the tall short, where the only things that convince us are card tricks and sleights of hand of a difficulty unexpected by the audience. 2 In the fall of 1923, Barbette took Parisian theaters by storm with a clever though provocative amalgamation of trapeze artistry and female impersonation. Standing atop a staircase with a blonde wig, fashionable dress and large hat, his body adorned with feathers and gemstones, Barbette opened his act. With feminine gestures he walked down the stairs and balanced on the high wire on the tips of his ballet shoes. He descended the wire, lay down on a sofa and slowly started to take off pieces of clothing – one at a time. When revealed in tight shorts and a tiny brassiere, he performed a routine on the rings and the trapeze. After several bows and rounds of applause, Barbette took off his wig, while flexing his muscles and gesturing in masculine ways. Spectators who saw his act for the first time were often very surprised, some relieved and others offended. 3 Barbette, born Vander Clyde in 1904 in Round Rock, Texas had never dared to dream of the spectacular success his act would become in Paris and other places in Europe during the 1 Jean Cocteau, “Le Numéro Barbette, ” Extrait de la Nouvelle Revue Française, July 1st (1926): 35-36. 2 Translation by Francis Steegmuller, Cocteau A Biography (Boston, Toronto: Little, Brown and Company (1970): 366. 3 See also Lydia Crowson, “Cocteau and le Numéro Barbette,” Modern Drama 19 (1) (1976): 80. 95 interwar years - between 1923 and 1938 to be precise. When he presented his act to audiences in several American cities at the start of his career, his performance did not catch on as it would later on in the ‘City of Light.’ Though Barbette, who had learned his aerial skills and his female impersonation while on the American circus circuit, was an accomplished and skillful acrobat, to a large extent he owed his fame to French poet and cinematographer, Jean Cocteau. Cocteau, a controversial figure, both because of his close connection with surrealist art and his open homosexuality, became enamoured with Barbette as soon as he laid eyes on him. To his friends, including artists, poets and literary critics, he raved about Barbette’s beauty and creative deceptions. “Your great loss for 1923 has been Barbette – a terrific act at the Casino de Paris,” Jean Cocteau wrote to his friend and artist Valentine Hugo. “Barbette is a young American who performs on the trapeze dressed as a woman. Ten unforgettable minutes. … We all found him an absolute knockout.” 4 In his poetic essay Le Numéro Barbette, published in 1926, Cocteau would immortalize Barbette while describing his own fears and desires that the performance inspired. It was not Barbette’s acrobatic skills that intrigued Cocteau, it was, suggests Tait, his performing body’s physical suspension on the trapeze that echoed a form of identity suspension. 5 Indeed, Barbette’s mystery seemed to lie in his aerial transformation from woman to man during which the presumably distinct categories of masculinity and femininity became confounded. Barbette flew in-between genders and “treated her body as an elaborate screen onto which the beholder could project his or her own assumptions, fantasies, and desires.” 6 4 Steegmuller, Cocteau: A Biography, 312. 5 Peta Tait, Circus Bodies. Cultural Identity in Aerial Performance (London and New York: Routledge, 2005), 75. 6 Amy Lyford, “The Lessons of Barbette. Surrealism, Fascism, and the Politics of Sexual Metamorphosis,” in Surrealist Masculinities. Gender Anxiety and the Aesthetics of Post-World War I Reconstruction France, 165-183 (Berkley: University of California Press, 2007), 174. http://webcat2.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Tait,%20Peta,&searchCode=NAME&searchType=4 http://webcat2.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Circus%20bodies&searchCode=TALL&searchType=1 96 Barbette’s act in interwar France was timely. The destructive results of World War I, especially with regard to the large numbers of physically and psychologically wounded soldiers, had left the country with deep concerns about the degeneration of the male body and the nation as a whole. The country’s anticipated ‘return to order’ after the war did not go without opposition from liberal thinkers, such as Jean Cocteau and surrealist inspired artists like Man Ray and Drieu La Rochelle - to name a few - who saw in the postwar chaos opportunities for the discussion and/or establishment of un(der)explored gender relations. Though gender issues were at the heart of many postwar debates and anxieties in France, their interrogation took place less in public debates than in the writings, works of art and performances of these so-called radical individuals like Cocteau and his entourage. 7 As Chadwick and Latimer suggest, visual culture and performance in interwar France were “spheres of empowerment for some social subjects, spheres of subversion for others.” Performances nonetheless, provided spaces in which gender and sexuality could be refigured and from which new contracts with society could be negotiated. 8 The interwar culture in France, though fraught with worries about the degeneration of nation and race, has often been presented as a place where liberal arts, culture and performance flourished, where theaters and circuses provided ample room for performers from all over the world, and for performances so suggestive they would have been banned elsewhere. African 7 See analogous: Mary Louise Roberts, Civilization Without Sexes. Reconstructing Gender in Postwar France, 1917- 1927 (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1994): 8, 15. She writes: “…the privileging of gender issues in the postwar confrontation with change has its historical roots in the war experience itself. The blurring of conventional gender roles was one of the most commented on of the war’s effects;” and on page 15: “….because returning soldiers had trouble communicating openly or directly what they had seen and felt, and because the French often wanted to ignore the fundamental questions concerning the war’s meaning, more oblique or ‘disguised’ forms of symbolic expression such as novels became a popular outlet for debate.” 8 Whitney Chadwick and Tirza True Latimer, “Introduction,” in The Modern Woman Revisited. Paris Between the Wars, ed. Whitney Chadwick and Tirza True Latimer, xiii-xxiv (New Brunswick, New Jersey, and London: Rutgers University Press, 2003), xviii. 97 American Josephine Baker’s erotic dancing and display of nudity was one such example and Barbette himself was certainly another one. 9 One way of interpreting this “frenzied hedonism” so typical of postwar France, Roberts suggests, was to view it as “a response to the trauma of the First World War and the dramatic changes that accompanied it.” 10 Barbette’s provocative act offers a useful case for examining social anxieties about gender, masculinity and (homo)sexuality in interwar France. His performance contributed to debates about the constructedness of gender and was indicative of the tensions of a postwar culture that wanted to ‘return to order.’ Like Charmion, who performed provocative striptease in mid-air on a trapeze in vaudeville theaters, the aesthetic of suspension and flying in combination with the “magic light of theater” 11 made Barbette’s act not only permissible, but also very popular. In Barbette’s case, flying and being suspended in the air provided a metaphor for a liminal space where no boundaries existed, where ‘things were possible.’ Barbette Beginnings Much of what we know about Barbette, the successes he enjoyed and the tragic end of his career, is thanks to Francis Steegmuller who interviewed Barbette in Texas, about ten years before the artist took his own life in 1973. Clearly marked with the “wounds of his devotion to 9 See for example Karen C.C. Dalton and Henry Louis Gates, Jr., “Josephine Baker and Paul Colin: African American Dance Seen through Parisian Eyes,” Critical Inquiry 24 (4) (1998): 903-34. See also Elisabeth Ezra, “A Colonial Princess. Josephine Baker’s French Films,” in The Colonial Unconscious. Race and Culture in Interwar France (Ithaca and London, 2000), 97-128. 10 Roberts, Civilization Without Sexes, 1. 11 I here refer to Cocteau’s quote at the start of this chapter. See Cocteau, “Le Numéro Barbette,” 35. 98 his art,” 12 referring to both the physical and emotional pains that were tormenting him, Barbette told Steegmuller his story. His earliest acrobatic exercise, Barbette recounted, was carried out on a stretched out, galvanized, iron clothesline in his mother’s backyard in Round Rock, Texas. Once finished high school at fourteen years of age he picked cotton to earn money and shortly after joined the “Alferetta Sisters World-Famous Aerial Queens” circus act. 13 One of the sisters had died and when a replacement was sought, Barbette responded to the ad and agreed to perform as a female aerialist. 14 It was certainly not unusual for young men to perform as women during aerial circus acts. As Tait points out, “[t]he cross-dressing of young males with upper-body strength for competitive advantage made the aerial act appear impressive ‘for a woman’, and ensured its hire over other male acts. … There was little advantage for females to secretly cross-dress, and acts of female-to-male cross-dressing in circus were far rarer than in theater.” 15 Around 1914, after about two years performing with the Alferetta Sisters, Barbette joined ‘Erford’s Whirling Sensation,’ an act consisting of three people hanging by their teeth on a revolving apparatus and wearing large butterfly wings. 16 During one of these acts Barbette broke four of his teeth and fell from a height, otherwise without major consequences. 17 In his early twenties be began to develop his own act. The piece was a combination of skills he had learned during his training in circus, including aerial acrobatics and cross-dressing, though was designed to be performed in a theater-setting. It was then that he adopted the name “Barbette,” which 12 Francis Steegmuller, Interview with Barbette, in Man Ray, Jean Cocteau and Francis Steegmuller, Le Numéro Barbette (Paris: Jacques Damase, 1980), 74. 13 Announcement in Billboard, “Alferetta Sisters World’s Famous Aerial Queens,” Jan 27, 1917. 14 Steegmuller, Interview with Barbette, 62. 15 Tait, Circus Bodies, 67-68. 16 Steegmuller, Interview with Barbette, 64. 17 See Georges-Michel, “Psychologie de Barbette,” around 1929. Retrieved from Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris, 8-RO-16929. 99 sounded like a feminized version of the French word for beard, barbe, and was possibly intended to hint at his gender ambiguous performance. 18 Barbette himself said that his lucky choice of name made French people think of him as one of themselves. 19 It was around 1919 that Barbette started to present his solo-act to audiences in the United States. He was received with mixed commentaries. In response to his performance in Keith’s theater in Boston in December 1919, one show critic wrote that “[m]uch of the possible worth is lost because he evidently considers it necessary to use such bulk of makeup to disguise his masculine features. On the wire he does not do anything much but his trapeze work is a bit better.” 20 A reporter in Variety had more praise for the performer and called him a “big time opener.” 21 From these newspaper excerpts it also becomes clear that, at least in the beginning of his career, Barbette sometimes executed an ‘iron jaw dervish whirl’ 22 before unmasking his male identity. He seemed to have omitted this part later on, 23 possibly because he no longer deemed this dangerous and physically demanding feat necessary for the success of his act. At the end of 1922, Barbette disappeared from the circus scene in the United States until about 1927, and travelled to Europe with William Morris as his agent. 24 After performing in England, he went to Paris in the fall of 1923, 25 reportedly with “twenty-five trunks of costumes, 18 Lyford, “The Lessons of Barbette,” 165. 19 Steegmuller. Interview with Barbette, 66. 20 Len Libbey, “Show Reviews, Keith’s Boston,” Variety, December 1919, 18. 21 Abel, “New Acts and Show Reviews,” Variety 1919, 18. 22 In this act he would hang by his teeth from a revolving apparatus (like the one with Erford) and spin or ‘whirl’ around, probably quite fast. 23 Abel, “New Acts and Show Reviews,” Variety 1919, 18. 24 Joe E. Jeffreys, “Barbette: That Daring Young [Wo]Man on the Flying Trapeze,” in Art, Glitter, and Glitz. Mainstream Playwrights and Popular Theatre in 1920s America, ed. Arthur Gewirtz and James J. Kolb (Westport, Connecticut and London: Praeger, 2004), 206. 25 Interview Steegmuller, 64; David Lewis Hammarstrom, Behind the Big Top (Cranbury, New Jersey: A.S. Barnes and Co., Inc., 1980), 34. 100 scenery, and cosmetics for a dazzling female impersonation on the single trapeze…” 26 Over the years, Barbette would reveal himself as a meticulous and perfectionist performer, always arriving two to three hours before his performance to put on his make-up and check his apparatus. Anton Dolin, a ballet dancer with the Ballets Russes and Barbette’s friend in Paris recounts how Barbette whitened his whole torso with a thick cream that was specifically prepared for him. He also whitened his hands and pink-tinted his nails. In line with the popular art of ‘plastic posing’ or the tableaux vivants performers as addressed in the previous chapter, 27 whitening one’s body to invoke the image of a Greco-Roman body or statue, was deemed more artistic. No matter how many times a day Barbette appeared, after every performance he cleaned off his white layer and put it on again for the next show. His tights were specially woven for him in Paris and he never wore the same pair twice in an evening. He sent his blond wig to the hair- dresser after every performance so it could be dressed for the next day. At least fifteen minutes before his act, he would be on the stage to test the trapeze, strengthening the steel supports of the wire rope, “his pink ballet shoes protected by large straw sandals, his hands encased in large chamois gloves.” 28 26 Hammarstrom, Behind the Big Top, 35. 27 See Andrew L. Erdman, Blue Vaudeville: Sex, Morals and the Mass Marketing of Amusement, 1895-1915 (Jefferson, NC: McFarland & Co., 2004), 5. See also Rachel Shteir, Striptease: The Untold Story of the Girlie Show (New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2004), 15. 28 Anton Dolin, Ballet Go Round (London: Michael Joseph LTD, 1938), 304. 101 Image 4: Barbette prepares for his act. Courtesy of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France. 102 Paris Was the Experience… 29 “I felt that I’d found my city,” Barbette told Steegmuller, describing his arrival in Paris. At the theater, as opposed to the circus, “I could tell that the audience appreciated all the little refinements I’d worked so hard on” and soon “the most wonderful people began to come around to my dressing room.” 30 With the help of wealthy American expatriates who took him under their wings, he was introduced to other influential people, including poet Jean Cocteau and his artistic colleagues Raymond Radiguet, Man Ray, George Geffroy and Marie-Laure de Noailles, the latter, one of the most controversial and influential patrons of arts of the twentieth century. The writers, painters, composer and other artists he met, Barbette said, “sensed from seeing my act that we were artists together…” 31 However it was Jean Cocteau’s praise and influential essay Le Numéro Barbette, published in La Nouvelle Revue Française in 1926 that gave Barbette’s performance the attention it received. Through his essay in which he praises Barbette for the beauty and ingenuity of his act, Cocteau, quite literally, ‘lifted’ Barbette’s performance to a level of artistry the aerialist himself had never dared to dream of. Barbette, who early on in his career said he thought of himself as a “female impersonator, and nothing more,” 32 later admitted that Cocteau saw more in his act than he had realized there was himself… 33 29 Steegmuller, interview with Barbette, 66. 30 Ibid, 64. 31 Ibid., 64, 66. 32 René Bizet, “Le Double Visage. Dans La Loge de Barbette,” Candide, Jan 14, 1926. Retrieved from Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris, 8-RO-16929. Original words : “Je ne comprends pas pourquoi on met devant mon nom très souvent, sure les affiches, un point d’interrogation. Je me défends de la façon la plus absolue de faire quoique ce soit d’équivoque. Je suis un imitateur de femme. un point c’est tout… ” 33 Steegmuller, Interview with Barbette, 66. 103 Des Gens Ne Voient Dans les Spectacles Que Ce Qu’ils Sont 34 What exactly made Barbette’s performance so popular and intriguing often depended on what the commentator or spectator wanted see in his act. Some applauded his acrobatic abilities, others ensured that it was his immaculate female impersonation that did the trick, while some believed that it was the combination of both. 35 Though Barbette was a technically skilled aerialist, the acrobatics he displayed were neither outstanding nor innovative when compared to other aerial circus acts at the time. 36 According to Jeffreys, the aerial aspect of his act added a new element to popular drag performances. Whereas most female impersonators’ ploys at the time were to impress audiences with fancy dress, dance and song, Barbette’s act was spectacular because it was physically dangerous and because drag “surpassed itself as an end and became the kicker for an already sensational act.” 37 Similarly, Tait suggests that it was Barbette’s innovative blending of aerial action and gender transformation that made his act stand out. 38 The importance attributed to Barbette’s acrobatic abilities versus female impersonation also very much depended on the particular venue in which he performed. Though his act, as he had said himself, was designed to be performed in a theater, in 1930 he accepted Cirque Médrano’s invitation to appear in a circus setting. “The circus requires a different type of approach than the music-hall,” Barbette told a reporter. “I have to somehow transpose my act. I have to walk differently and continuously be aware that I am now performing in a circular 34 Own translation: “The only thing people see in a performance is what they are.” L’Archange du Trapèze,” undated. Retrieved from Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris, 8-RO-16929. 35 It is very likely that those reviewers who stressed Barbette’s acrobatics skills may have done so to take attention away from his provocative woman to man transformation. See also Peta Tait, Circus Bodies, 70. 36 Peta Tait, Circus Bodies, 70. 37 Jeffreys, “Barbette: That Daring Young [Wo]Man on the Flying Trapeze,” 198. 38 See Tait, Circus Bodies, 75. 104 setting. I have to fill the room with myself.” 39 To please spectators in a circus setting, Chabrier wrote, Barbette had to emphasize his strong, gymnastic abilities. 40 Novy noted that Barbette’s flying movements on the rings and the trapeze had become more gracious now that they could be observed from all angles. “One almost forgets about the magic of his female impersonation,” 41 she added. Another critic said that the open and circular concept of the circus allowed Barbette to use the space around him more freely so that his artificial and aerial beauty became even more remarkable. 42 Most commentators seemed to agree: Barbette’s acrobatic skills were much more impressive in a circus setting, though his stage props including stairs, his fancy dress and feathers, seemed out of place and only effective in a theater. 43 Jean Cocteau, like others in his artistic circles, was less concerned with Barbette’s acrobatic abilities than with his act as a form of art and possible indicator of the instability of gender categories. “With Barbette, the acrobat is a pretext,” Cocteau wrote. 44 He was especially intrigued by Barbette because the acrobat’s aerial performance embodied his own idea(l) of art and poetry. In a letter he wrote in 1916 to Etienne de Beaumont from Flanders, he made the comparison between “a tightrope dancer’s skilled, perilous performance and the painful creativity of a poet.” 45 Arnaud, one of Cocteau’s biographers, suggests that Cocteau seemed to be talking about himself when he described Barbette as balancing “above the audience, above 39 Legrand Chabrier, “Barbette au Cirque Medrano,” December 2, 1930. Retrieved from Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris, 8-RO-16929. My own free translation from the original quote: “Le cirque exige un autre travail que celui du music-hall. Il faut que je transpose, en quelque sorte, mon numéro. On marche autrement, on doit constamment devenir un être circulaire. Il me faut emplir la salle de moi-même.” 40 Ibid. 41 Yvon Novy, “Barbette au Cirque,” Dec 13, 1930. Retrieved from Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris, 8-RO- 16929. 42 Jacques Patin, “Cirque Medrano: Barbette? Antonet et Bédy. Spectacle Divers,” Figaro, December 4, 1930. 43 R. Fuzier, “Barbette en Piste,” Le Soir, Dec 4, 1930. Retrieved from Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris, 8- RO-16929. 44 Cocteau quoted in Steegmuller, Cocteau: A Biography, 368. 45 The letter was addressed to Etienne de Beaumont from Flanders, Belgium. See Steegmuller, Cocteau: A Biography, 364. 105 death, above ridicule, above bad taste, above scandal, without falling.” 46 Aside from the similarities Cocteau saw between himself and Barbette, his sexual attraction to the aerialist should not be overlooked. 47 Not only did Cocteau find a soul-mate in Barbette and vice versa, according to Dimock, they also had a brief romance. 48 In Le Numéro Barbette, published three years after he watched Barbette’s debut in Paris, Cocteau describes how he met Barbette in his dressing room, how he witnessed his transformation from man to woman before his act, and how Barbette deceived his audience during his act. Barbette’s secret, according to Cocteau, lay in his ability to appeal to “ those who s[aw] the woman in him, to those who sense[d] the man in him, as well as to others whose souls [we]re moved by the supernatural sex of beauty.” 49 Here Cocteau seems to suggest that Barbette’s act offered audiences the chance to imagine different gender possibilities and/or to identify with Barbette, without fear of social repercussion. At the same time, however, Cocteau did not see room for alternative genders outside of the carnivalesque space of the theater. Historians have different views on the meaning of Cocteau’s essay. On the one hand, Cocteau seems to advertise a flexible and changeable conception of gender, while on the other hand, he expresses anxieties about gender transformation and associates it with the grotesque. The passage in which Cocteau describes his reaction to Barbette who is preparing for his performance in his dressing room, is particularly telling: 46 Cocteau quoted in Claude Arnaud, Jean Cocteau (Gallimard, 2003), 304. Original quote: “Ils se balançait sur le public, sur la mort, sur le ridicule, sur le mauvais goût, sur le scandale, sans tomber”, dira Cocteau, comme s’il parlait de lui-même,… ” 47 Crowson, “Cocteau and le Numéro Barbette,” 80. 48 Chase Dimock, “The Surreal Sex of Beauty: Jean Cocteau and Man Ray’s “Le Numéro Barbette.” http://asitoughttobe.com/2011/06/02/the-surreal-sex-of-beauty-jean-cocteau-and-man-ray%E2%80%99s- %E2%80%9Cle-numero-barbette%E2%80%9D/ [accessed June 2, 2011]. 49 Jean Cocteau, “Le Numero Barbette,” in Man Ray and Jean Cocteau, Barbette (Berlin: bordeline, 1988). http://asitoughttobe.com/2011/06/02/the-surreal-sex-of-beauty-jean-cocteau-and-man-ray%E2%80%99s-%E2%80%9Cle-numero-barbette%E2%80%9D/ http://asitoughttobe.com/2011/06/02/the-surreal-sex-of-beauty-jean-cocteau-and-man-ray%E2%80%99s-%E2%80%9Cle-numero-barbette%E2%80%9D/ 106 I felt at ease in that dressing room. I was smoking, chatting to a fellow sportsman who was having a wash before rubbing grease all over his face… Girls would come in, give a shriek and disappear again until Barbette, putting a dressing-gown on, opened the door to exchange a few words with them. … It is not until he pulls on his blonde wig held by a simple elastic around his ears that he will take up – while putting a bunch of hairpins in his mouth – the slightest posture of a woman doing her hair. … The transformation is complete. Jekyll is Hyde…. I am scared. I turn away. … It is my turn to be intimidated. The doors open, the girls do not feel embarrassed anymore, they come and go as they please… 50 Did Cocteau insert this passage simply to shock his readers, or was he genuinely afraid of Barbette’s transformation? According to Franko, in Le Numéro Barbette Cocteau “consigns the figure of the androgyne to a “no man’s land” outside the tight sexual polarity from which it emerged.” 51 By insinuating the panic of being caught in a sexually indeterminable middle stage, Cocteau reaffirms “stereotypic male-female dichotomies while denying all possible traces of the middle ground to be traversed.” 52 Franko also points to Cocteau’s use of the term ‘Jekyll and Hyde’ which is historically associated with hermaphroditism and monstrosity. Barbette’s ambiguous appearance thus seems grotesque, perhaps even freakish. It is not Barbette the woman who is monstrous in Cocteau’s essay, but Barbette’s first transformation from man to woman, which Cocteau did not describe. In Franko’s opinion, “Barbette’s changing sexual identity is accepted as a fait accompli but unexplored as a process, because the crossing of sex barriers, the bridging of incompatibles, is traditionally monstrous.” 53 His analysis thus suggests that Cocteau’s interpretation of Barbette’s act reflected social anxieties about the blurring of boundaries between male and female. From this point of view, Cocteau seems to reinforce rather than challenge questions about gender and sexuality. 50 Ibid. 51 Mark Franko, “Where he Danced: Cocteau’s Barbette and Ohno’s Water Lilies,” Modern Language Association, Special Topic: Performances 107 (3) (1992): 596. 52 Ibid. 53 Ibid., 597. 107 And what about Barbette himself? He clearly transgressed “the fixed order of gender behavior imposed on social bodies,” 54 and became seemingly “unclassifiable” 55 while in the air. Whether or not Barbette suggested, or intended to suggest, the possibility of alternative genders, remains an interesting question. Why did Barbette manifest his femininity so clearly in the beginning of his act and why did he show himself as a muscular and masculine performer at the end? Was he afraid of being perceived as caught in a middle-stage, neither man nor woman, but, as some reviewers depicted him, as “a strange creature,” 56 flying “along dream paths, in a place where sounds are no longer heard…”? 57 Their Love-life is Even Sadder… For they have their romance, their aspirations, their disaster. Some have at their disposal, to introduce sensuality or sentiment into their lives, a bare hour of night, a fringe of shadow, a narrow and restricted space. Their field of operations may not transgress that limit, that corner that alcove, beyond which there is an accusing streetlamp, a lighted road... One more step ruins their illusion, their hope – I won’t add their security, for they have found no place for security in their existence. Colette, The Evening Star, 1946. 58 Cocteau’s and Barbette’s seeming reluctance to commit to the ‘middle stage,’ was not at all surprising when seen against a backdrop of postwar anxieties around gender and the increasing medicalization of sexuality and homosexuality in particular. In the above passage, Colette provides a depressing though telling description of the status of male homosexuality in 54 Peta Tait, “Feminine Free Fall: A Fantasy of Freedom,” Theatre Journal 48 (1) (1996), 30. 55 Helen Stoddart, Rings of Desire: Circus History and Representation (UK: Manchester University Press, 2000), 75. 56 Georges-Michel, “Psychologie de Barbette.” 57 Cocteau, “Le Numéro Barbette,” 37. 58 Colette, The Evening Star. Recollections (London: Peter Owen, 1946, translated by David le Vay), 58. 108 interwar France. Though there had been no anti-sodomy laws in France since 1791, anti- obscenity law was used to censor material with homosexual content and to repress homosexual activities. Until 1900, the dominant explanation of male sexuality was that a gay man had “a woman’s soul in a man’s body,” also termed “sexual inversion” and defined as a psycho- pathological condition. 59 In the postwar climate in which Barbette performed, homosexuality was seen as a threat to traditional family values, the male race, democracy, and the nation as a whole. In other words, links between war, violence, emasculation, and homosexuality put gay men in a situations where they had to hide -or at least be ambiguous about- their sexual orientation. Despite the legal and medical repression of homosexuality, “the homosexual subculture in postwar Paris became both clandestine and, at the same time startlingly visible and well- integrated in the public life of the city.” 60 This was another one of those contradictions characteristic of France’s interwar hedonism; while homosexuality was often suppressed as an act of indecency, it also flourished, especially in the works of homosexual artists and writers for whom “homosexuality re-enact[ed] the trauma of war as the experience of spectacularly degraded manhood.” 61 However, homosexual writers like Jean Cocteau and Marcel Proust, to name two familiar ones, did not make any special plea for the tolerance or acceptance of homosexuality, though they used a lot of irony and double entendres on the topic in their writings. 62 59 Carolyn J. Dean. The Frail Social Body. Pornography, Homosexuality, and Other Fantasies in Interwar France (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000), 131,138. 60 Brooke Lindy Blower, “The Paris of Americans: Transnational Politics and Culture Between the World Wars,” Dissertation (Princeton University, History Department, 2005), 339. 61 Dean, The Frail Social Body, 144. 62 Ibid.,162. 109 Barbette’s performance was especially daring in light of these mixed sentiments about homosexuality in interwar France. Though female impersonation was common, especially for younger acrobats, a performance like Barbette’s that was almost entirely based on gender transformation was particularly provocative since it also signified a homosexual identity. 63 Female impersonators both benefited and suffered from a culturally anxious and aware public, Jeffreys explains. “The new ideas, notions, and theories about sexuality helped create a drag- hungry public while at the same time fostering conflicted reactions to the performers. ”64 Like other female impersonators, in their attempt to prevent rumours that stemmed from their gender- bending performances, Barbette liked to emphasise his masculinity when not on stage. Like female impersonator and Barbette’s contemporary, American Julian Eltinge, who smoked cigars throughout interviews and told stories about fighting when he did not get his way, 65 Barbette dressed in a tailored costume with manly hat whenever he appeared outside of the theater or circus. And Frank Foster, ringmaster with the Bertram Mills circus in London who knew Barbette, recounted how the artist would get into fights when someone dared to call him effeminate. 66 It seems plausible that Barbette’s revelation of his masculine identity and flexing of his muscles at the end of his performance, was also a self-protection mechanism. However, according to Dimock, Barbette’s display of male muscularity was also ‘performed’ and thus not an attempt to hide his sexuality or prevent rumours. “Barbette does not simply reveal his male identity and return to his true self, instead, he pantomimes and performs the masculinity 63 Tait, Circus Bodies, 75. 64 Jeffreys, “Barbette: That Daring Young [Wo]Man on the Flying Trapeze,” 207. 65 Ibid. 66 Frank Foster, Pink Coat, pang es and awd st. Reminiscence of irc s Life with anger’s Bertram Mi s and other Circuses (London: Stanley Paul and Co. Ltd, 1948), 118-119. 110 supposedly revealed by removing his wig. His male sexed body and its expected postures and actions,” Dimock suggests, “are revealed to be as much a product of artifice and performance as the female persona he adopts on stage.” 67 Unlike Eltinge, Barbette did not go through significant efforts to come across as heterosexual. While Eltinge ensured that he was seen around women and called one of them his wife, Barbette made no such effort. In his interview with Steegmuller near the end of his life, he did not seem reluctant (anymore) to reveal his homosexuality. In a short anecdote, he tells how Cocteau, Cocteau’s friend Maurice Rostan, and himself went to a brothel to see if they could rent a homosexual film. 68 “During the running of the only blue film available at Chez Aline,” Barbette said, “Maurice Rostand fell asleep and snored, and Cocteau kept up a commentary on the defects of the acting.” 69 Une Eve Future 70 While Cocteau seems to have shied away from describing Barbette’s metamorphosis from man to woman in Le Numéro Barbette, he did produce a series of photographs in cooperation with his close friend and photographer Man Ray that specifically documented the process of Barbette’s transformation. Ray was probably most well-known for his unconventional and surrealist inspired portrait photography. One photograph depicts Barbette’s genitals flattened by a girdle, while his chest remains breastless and his face is made feminine with make-up and a 67 Dimock, “The Surreal Sex of Beauty.” 68 Steegmuller, Interview with Barbette, 69. 69 Ibid., 72. 70 Pierre Drieu La Rochelle, “Barbette au Casino de Paris, ” Chronique des Spectacles, Nouvelle Revue Française, January 1(1924): 97 111 blond wig. 71 As Lyford notes, the photograph registered anxiety about emasculation, and caused discomfort because the usual cues an audience would use to figure out Barbette’s sexual identity were now inverted. 72 The shock effect that Cocteau and Ray intended to create in their works of art and also with Barbette’s portraits, was typical of the surrealists’ agenda to “shock bourgeois society by presenting the unrestrained unconscious in the most ruthless forms.” 73 However, while surrealists at the time asked provocative questions about the instability of gender, the movement was largely sexist and homophobic. 74 Dimock points out that some of the most iconic images of surrealism presented the female body as an object on which the sexual desire of the male artist and spectator performs violence. Belgian painter René Margritte’s very famous Le Viol or The Rape (1935), depicting a female torso as a face with breast as eyes, serves as one such example. Also, founding father of the surrealist movement, André Breton, voiced his homophobic sentiments quite clearly, supposedly to target Cocteau who “employed the language and imagery of surrealism without allegiance to Breton’s philosophy,” and “also used it to openly theorize a queer eroticism through it.” 75 71 Due to copyright issues I cannot display this image or any other images produced by Man Ray. To view Ray’s work, see http://www.manray- photo.com/catalog/advanced_search_result.php?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_them es=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=- 116?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80 ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116&largeur=1280 [accessed July 9, 2013]. 72 Lyford, “The Lessons of Barbette,” 172. 73 Dimock, “The Surreal Sex of Beauty.” 74 As also Showalter has noted for the fin-de-siècle: “…the male rebellion against patriarchy did not necessarily mean a commitment to feminism. While the male avant-garde of the 1880s “were critical of the patriarchal order in which they lived and heralded its ends,” they often “looked with fear towards the new feminist order.” This paradox is at the heart of fin-de-siècle culture. Indeed, the strongly anti-patriarchal sentiments could also coexist comfortably with misogyny, homophobia, and racism.” Elaine Showalter, e a Anarch ender and t re at the in de i c e (New York: Viking, 1990), 10. 75 Dimock, “The Surreal Sex of Beauty.” http://www.manray-photo.com/catalog/advanced_search_result.php?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116&largeur=1280 http://www.manray-photo.com/catalog/advanced_search_result.php?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116&largeur=1280 http://www.manray-photo.com/catalog/advanced_search_result.php?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116&largeur=1280 http://www.manray-photo.com/catalog/advanced_search_result.php?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116&largeur=1280 http://www.manray-photo.com/catalog/advanced_search_result.php?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116?keywords=Barbette&categories_id=&inc_subcat=1&products_themes=&product_years=&osCsid=d832072c80ef55ee127f8be7b2443cb3&x=-986&y=-116&largeur=1280 112 Though Man Ray was inspired by surrealism, his portraits of Barbette were not especially sexist, but rather intended to mock the violence inflicted by World War I and the fear of emasculation as a result. Man Ray’s photographs indeed embodied the fears and desires of a “civilization without sexes,” so termed by French writer Drieu La Rochelle. 76 La Rochelle had long sympathized with the surrealists and shared their belief that bourgeois culture was vulnerable if one attacked the strict categories of gender at the center of bourgeois domestic and public life. 77 Already in 1924 he had seen in Barbette an “Eve future,” 78 and admired his clever blending of both male and female characteristics. While asserting that the quality of Barbette’s act was not determined by his acrobatic feats, but by the beauty of the performer, he wrote: Barbette does not have hips: her athleticism and her negation render them invisible. She is muscular and ready for everything. She is draped in a piece of cloth, evocative of a banknote and wears pearls as those belonging to Venus. 79 “What a difference,” La Rochelle asserted, “between this majestic nervous amazon and the plump women one sees elsewhere, with their muscles packed in fat…” 80 La Rochelle’s comments about the blending of masculine and female characteristics would serve as pretext for his break with surrealism in 1925 and his turn to a more fascist agenda. 81 A collaborator with Nazi-Germany, La Rochelle saw in Barbette’s muscular yet elegant body possibilities for the re-establishment of a strong and healthy European race. While artists like Cocteau and Ray viewed Barbette’s performance as proof of the constructedness of gender and “the impossibility of re-creating a unified social body,” to La Rochelle Barbette 76 See Roberts, Civilization Without Sexes, 6. 77 Lyford, “The Lessons of Barbette,” 182. 78 La Rochelle, “Barbette au Casino de Paris,” 97. 79 Ibid., 97-8. Orignal quote : “Elle n’a pas de flancs : l’athlétisme et la négation les tiennent effacés. Elle est musclée, prête à tout. Elle est vêtue d’un morceau d’étoffe, suggestif comme un bank-note. Et des perles, tout ce qui reste a Venus de ses origines.” 80 Ibid., 98. Original quote : “Quelle différence entre cette grande amazone nerveuse et les grosses femelles qu’on voit ailleurs, aux muscles empaquetés dans la graisse, gênées par la grâce comme par un souvenir.” 81 Lyford, “The Lessons of Barbette,” 177. 113 seemed to suggest a “protofascist body… in which the virile power of man would fuse directly with the beauty and creative energy of a woman.” 82 This becomes very clear in his novel Gilles (1939), which describes the encounter between Dora, an androgynous, beautiful, muscular, blond woman, reminiscent of Barbette, who embodies feminine power and reproductivity, and Gilles, whose body is “dis-integrated, split in two, partly virile and partly weak.” 83 In La Rochelle’s novel and imagination, as Lyford points out, the “ideal body did not resecure the boundaries between the sexes; rather, it fused the essential characteristics of the modern woman and the idealized action of the wartime man into a newborn fascist individual.” 84 So, while Cocteau and Ray saw Barbette’s performance as a clear illustration of the ways in which the war had shattered traditional values, as well as French society’s struggle to find a new balance, La Rochelle seemed to find that very balance, and thus a solution to male emasculation, in a strong, androgynous body like Barbette’s. Un Hommage à La Femme 85 Though Barbette would probably never have made a link between his own performance and a fascist body ideal, he was flattered by the comments La Rochelle made in 1924 about his beautiful appearance that stood in sharp contrast with many female performers’ imperfect bodies. 86 In his attempt “to bring an act that could not be executed by a woman,” 87 Barbette claimed to eat and train very little in order to keep his muscles from developing too much and to 82 Ibid., 182. 83 Ibid., 179-180. 84 Ibid., 182. 85 Maurice Verne, Musée de Voluptés. Le Secret des Nuits Electriques (Paris : Editions des Portiques, 1930), 223. 86 Steegmuller, Interview with Barbette, 66. 87 Bizet, “Le Double Visage. Dans La Loge de Barbette, ” Original words: “je devais composer un numéro qu’une femme ne pouvait pas faire.” 114 maintain a thin waist. 88 “[W]omen today who come visit me in my dressing room and who find I have a fashionable body, spend time comparing their silhouette with mine in the mirror and are happy when they find out they are as thin as me,” 89 he told one reporter. He was clearly a style icon, representing a female body ideal that was also fashionable. It was not a coincidence that the much idolized “silhouette of la femme moderne - as a being without breasts, without a waist, without hips -” which Barbette so perfectly represented, “visually expressed the erosion of traditional cultural categories.” 90 Taking on a female identity was one thing, but being able to keep it a secret until the end of a physically demanding performance was another. “With each motion, his body or his costume could have betrayed him since nothing he did on stage was passive,” Crowson notes. 91 Suppressing his masculine identity would have been difficult in non-demanding activities like walking for example, let alone while executing highly physical aerial acrobatics in very short attire. 92 In an interview in 1926, Barbette explained how he maintained a feminine identity on stage: Don’t even think that that wig is enough: the dress makes my waist look very thin, but that still does not make my feminine image perfect. When I spread my arms out with my palms facing upwards, you will see my masculine biceps. If, on the contrary, I keep my palms facing downwards, my biceps are not visible anymore and my arms are like a woman’s … Look at my back… if I keep my back straight, my shoulder blades stand out. If I bend slightly, I give my back a harmonious curve and have a back like a woman’s. And my knees? See, I have very pointy knees, and that is a masculine characteristic. I never keep my legs 88 Georges-Michel, “Psychologie de Barbette.” Original words: “Je ne mange rien dans la journée pour garder ma taille fine. Dans le temps, on mettait des corsets. Aujourd’hui il faut bien que je marche avec la mode, n’est-ce pas ;” Legrand-Chabrier, “Dans les Coulisses du Music-hall. Comment Barbette se Métamorphose,” Le Petit Parisien 17 (Feb 1935). 89 Ibid., Original words : “ …les femmes d’aujourd’hui qui viennent dans ma loge et qui trouve que j’ai un corps à la mode, passent leur temps à comparer dans la glace leur silhouette a la mienne et elles sont enchantées quand elles se trouvent aussi plates que moi.” 90 Roberts, Civilization without sexes, 71. 91 Crowson, “Cocteau and le Numéro Barbette,” 80- 81. 92 Ibid., 81. 115 straight, I always bend them slightly and try to keep one foot pointed as much as possible… Moreover, I am always moving during my performances, so the audience does not have the time to examine my legs closely. 93 Though Barbette was a master of female impersonation, according to Vilona Pilchers’ lyrical review, the audience must have sensed that he was not what they viewed as a typical woman. There was certainly something mysterious about him, something that they could not quite pin down. Walking down the stairs in a long, feathered dress, his legs close to one another and his toes pointed, accentuating his slim silhouette, may not have raised much suspicion about his real identity. During his aerial performance, however, his muscularity seemed more difficult to hide. Pilcher writes: … study that bending back… Within its frail framework the most masculine of muscles are moving like levers, folding and unfolding as if their very friction would burn away the flesh. And observe that long bone of the back, when arched at its acutest angle. Like a bow it bends backwards, bending like a bow of brass stained for the flight of an arrow of iron.” 94 To keep his audience guessing about his ‘real’ identity, and to reassure the spectators that he was a woman after his first performance on the high wire, Barbette lay down on a couch set on stage and with feminine gestures slowly started to take off his layered clothing. “Long brittle fingers snap off a shiny slipper, slop off a silky sock, snap off a second shiny slipper, slip off a second silky sock,” 95 Pilcher wrote, accentuating Barbette’s erotic undressing. Cocteau observed that Barbette’s “scabrous little scene” on the sofa was meant to throw dust in the spectators’ eyes 93 Bizet, “Le Double Visage. Dans La Loge de Barbette.” Own translation from original quote : “ …Ne croyez pas que cette perruque suffise pourtant: je suis très serré a la taille par la jupe, mais cela encore ne donnerait qu’une image féminine imparfaite. Que je tienne mes bras en croix, les paumes vers le ciel, on voit des biceps masculins, qu’au contraire je les tienne les paumes vers la terre, vous n’apercevez plus les biceps, j’ai des bras de femme… Regardez le dos… si je me tien droit, mes omoplates ressortent, j’ai un dos d’homme, si je me penche légèrement je donne à mon dos une courbe harmonieuse, j’ai un dos de femme. Et les genoux? Voyez, j’ai les genoux pointus, et cela c’est un signe masculin, jamais je ne tiens mes jambes droites, je plie toujours légèrement mes jambes et je me tiens le plus possible avec un pied sur la pointe… De plus, je suis toujours en mouvement dans mon numéro pour qu’on n’ait pas le temps d’examiner mes jambes trop à loisir… ” 93 94 Velona Pilcher, “A Star Turn,” Theatre Arts Monthly XIV (12) (December 1930): 1034. 95 Ibid. 116 because he would need “entire freedom of movement” for his performance on the rings and trapeze. 96 In other words, his interlude on the couch served to reinstate his female identity for those who had started to question it. Though Barbette took his female impersonation very seriously by studying women’s movements and claiming that his performance was “un hommage à la femme,” 97 it did not exactly put women in a positive light. Indeed, while Cocteau suggested play with categories of gender, he meant play from a male perspective only. Both Cocteau and Barbette seemed to take pleasure in their ability to create something that they believed was more beautiful and better than any woman in the world. Barbette made all women around him fade and look ugly, according to Cocteau. 98 The aerialist “sums up in one all the women he has observed, becoming then the typical female in such a convincing manner that he eclipses the prettiest women appearing before and after him. Thanks to Barbette,” he added, “I now understand that it was not only for the sake of decency that the great nations and cultures had men play women’s parts.” 99 Also Barbette made misogynist comments on more than one occasion. He told a reporter, for example, that his female fans really put him off. They sent him too many cards and gifts and, sometimes to his frustration, came to see him after his performance. They were not nearly as charming or discrete, Barbette indicated, as his male admirers who barely dared to pass him their cards. 100 96 Man Ray and Jean Cocteau, “Barbette” (Berlin: Borderline, 1988). 97 Verne, Musée de Voluptés, 223. 98 Arnaud, Jean Cocteau, 304. Own translation from original quote : “Cette créature ravissante tuais les petites femmes autour. Elles s’éteignent, devenaient laides. C’est qu’en jouant le rôle de la femme, il les résumait toutes.” 99 Ray and Cocteau, “Barbette.” 100 Georges-Michel, “Psychologie de Barbette.” 117 Life after 1938 Having travelled around the world for more than twenty years, Barbette gave his final performance in 1938 at the Loew’s State Theater in New York City. While sweating heavily after his act, he purportedly caught a chill in a backstage draft. The next morning he could hardly move. Diagnosed with pneumonia and sudden stiffness of his joints, he spent eighteen months in hospital for surgery and recovery. Barbette’s illness did not only drain him financially (he had to sell his property in Texas), but also emotionally. 101 “The Barbette act is finished for all time,” he wrote to his friend and famous pianist Katharine Goodson. Perhaps it was better so… No one will ever be able to say that my last appearance wasn’t one of my best. I should have had to give it up some time. But I would have liked to have a little more time to adjust myself gradually. To have everything torn from you at once is a terrifying experience. 102 During his recovery, he also exchanged letters with his friend Anton Dolin, in which he told him how he wished he had died during his operation. 103 Reminiscing about his career, Barbette wrote: Too much has been written of the glamour and fascination of opening nights, applause, triumph, adulation, fame, and so little of the dreary struggles to get somewhere. Years of work, rehearsing, practising, hoping hopelessly against hope that your time will come, the unending succession of drab provincial towns, filthy dressing-rooms, poor food, miserable hotels. We must be indeed a breed apart to survive it all. And then when you do know anything approaching success, you forget all the unpleasantness, forget how you sat in dressing-rooms and cried hot scalding tears of despair. 104 Surprisingly little is known about Barbette’s life after his accident, as it seems typical for circus and vaudeville performers once out of the limelight, though some anecdotal information reveal his second career as a self-proclaimed aerial-choreographer starting around 1942. He 101 Steegmuller, Interview with Barbette, 72. 102 Dolin, Ballet Go Round, 306. 103 Ibid., 305. 104 Ibid., 307-308. 118 would be credited with inventing the aerial ballet spectacular, which after its inception became a standard part of many circuses. 105 Barbette trained young aerialists in several circuses in the United States and negotiated contracts with Hollywood studios to choreograph aerial scenes in a number of films. In 1958, for example, he was aerial director for the film Jumbo where his duties included teaching actors to walk the tight wire. 106 Around 1969, near the end of his career, he toured with Disney on Parade through Australia in charge of an electrical carousel on which six young female aerialists with butterfly wings performed. 107 Hammarstrom who wrote about the life of John Ringling North and his circus, describes how Barbette, also billed as “the Entrepreneur of Enchantment,” once brought to the Sonoma County Fairgrounds Pavilion in Santa Rosa, California “a fascinating procession of theatrical trunks, odd mechanical contraptions, rough-looking roustabouts to put them together…. Huge butterfly wings, enormous deflated clown heads, piles of twisted cables and pulleys, silver bars and hinged platforms, light fixtures…” 108 Clearly, Barbette had not lost his fascination with extravagant aerial spectacle. The butterfly wings were to be used by his twelve female aerialists, which he had named the Aerialovelies. Hammarstrom recounts how “very few of the Aerialovelies ever tasted the thrill of victory” because Barbette, perfectionist as he was, was hardly ever entirely satisfied with them; he scolded them for chewing gum, for not showing up for training, and for not practicing hard enough. “When you are peeling, you’ll look like Bozo the Clown up there in the lights,” he told one of his pupils who had been sunbathing for too 105 Robert A. Burns, “Vander Barbette: Round Rock’s Gift to Paris,” retrieved from the Harry Ransom Humanities Research Centre, The University of Texas, Austin. 106 Ibid. 107 Hammarstrom, Behind the Big Top, 37. 108 Ibid., 30. This must have been around 1953. See Ukiah News, “Top Acts Listed by Shrine Circus,” April 23, 1953. 119 long. 109 Barbette, quite literally, hovered over his performers and equipment like a “possessed puppeteer in control of every string.” However, despite his reputation as an irritable perfectionist, he has also been described as humoristic and genuinely concerned with his performers. He would lobby to increase their salaries, gave them money out of his own pockets, even paid for abortions, and rarely got his money back. 110 Barbette was clearly a man of contrasts. Besides his dedication to this work as aerial choreographer and the ambitious aerial spectacles he coordinated, he also revealed himself as a rather embittered man. During his interview with Steegmuller in 1926 in a coffee shop, Barbette would have returned a plate, scolded the waitress when the coffee arrived too early and when she put down some spoons rather noisily. “Since these years in Paris I’ve never been able to readjust to crudity,” Barbette admitted. “[A]part from my family everything about Austin offends me.” 111 Due to a combination of unemployment and depression as a result of his failing health, Barbette resorted to sleeping pills and died in 1973 at the age of 68. 112 Though the Austin Statesman did not carry his obituary, indicating his seemingly unknown accomplishments as aerial performer and choreographer in the United States at the time of his death, 113 he has never ceased to inspire filmmakers, writers and performers. While Barbette was Cocteau’s muse in Le Numéro Barbette (1926), he also played a small role in Cocteau’s film Le ang d’ n Po te (1930) in which he is seen, beautifully dressed as a woman by Coco Chanel, watching a play from a theater balcony. 114 Barbette would also serve as inspiration for the character of Death in 109 Hammarstrom, 32. 110 Ibid., 31, 33. 111 Steegmuller, Interview with Barbette, 66, 69. 112 Hammarstrom, Behind the Big Top, 37; Michael Moore, Drag! Male and Femal Impersonators on Stage, Screen and Television (Jefferson, North Carolina and London: McFarland & Compagny, Inc., Publishers, 1994), 122. 113 Burns, “Vander Barbette: Round Rock’s Gift to Paris.” 114 New York Times, “Vander Barbette Is Dead at 68; Trapeze Artist in the Twenties,” August 10, 1973. 120 Cocteau’s play Orphée (1950). 115 More recently, in 1979, Albert Goldbarth used Barbette as inspiration throughout his poetic work Different Fleshes, 116 and in 1993, in his work Light Shall Lift Them, performance artists John Kelly revived Barbette’s story for contemporary audiences in an artistic combination of theater performance and cinema. 117 115 See Kazuyuki Matsuda, “La Mort Sous la Forme d’Une Jeune Femme Chez Cocteau - Sur la Genèse du Personnage de la Princesse du Film Orphée,” 219-26. http://www.let.osaka- u.ac.jp/france/gallia/texte/40/40matsuda.pdf [accessed March 13, 2013]. 116 Albert Goldbarth, Different Fleshes. A Novel/poem (Geneva, N.Y., 1979). 117 Jeffreys, “Barbette: That Daring Young [Wo]Man on the Flying Trapeze,” 207. Le ang d’ n Po te: see https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BAqxEq4ylb4 [accessed June 30, 2013]; L’Orphée: see http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VT4og-xpAas [accessed June 30, 2013]; excerpts from Light Shall Lift Them: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAnNhju6MGw and https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLZdCtP1pHY [accessed June 30, 2013]. http://www.let.osaka-u.ac.jp/france/gallia/texte/40/40matsuda.pdf http://www.let.osaka-u.ac.jp/france/gallia/texte/40/40matsuda.pdf https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BAqxEq4ylb4 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VT4og-xpAas https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAnNhju6MGw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gLZdCtP1pHY 121 Chapter V: Bessie Coleman: “The Only Race Aviatrix in the World” 1 Working black women could not always access pen and paper as did the white male explorers and adventures whose exploits have become foundational histories. Nor have they been granted the kind of historical publicity garnered by black male artists and activists. But a number of narratives do exist that tell of black women’s voyages. Most of these remain understudied, or at least not considered for what they say about movement and mobility. Jayna Brown, Babylon Girls, 10. Introduction Aviation history received renewed interest with the centennial celebration of the first successful powered flight in 1903 by the American brothers Wilbur and Orville Wright. The United States Centennial of Flight Commission, established in 1999 by aviation institutions across the country, had among its appointed tasks to “assist in conducting educational, civic and commemorative activities relating to the centennial of powered flight,” and to “encourage the publication of popular and scholarly works on the history of aviation or the centennial of powered flight.” 2 This celebration of the inaugural flight not only resulted in a number of flight exhibitions, air meets, and aviation educational projects and publications, it also triggered increased interest in the remarkable accomplishments of some less well-known aviation pioneers, including several female aviators whose accomplishments have long gone unrecognized. 1 These are the words of the black newspaper the Chicago Defender. See Chicago Defender, “Bessie Coleman Makes Initial Aerial Flight,” October 21, 1922. On several other occasions, the Chicago Defender refers to Bessie Coleman as “the only Race aviatrix” or “the only aviatrix of the Race.” See for example Chicago Defender, “World’s Greatest Event,” August 26, 1922; Chicago Defender, “Rain Halts the Initial Flight of Miss Bessie,” September 2, 1922. 2 United States Centennial of Flight Commission, “Final Report for the Centennial of Flight Commemoration,” April 2004. http://www.centennialofflight.gov/about/natl_plan.htm [accessed February 13, 2011]; Centennial of Flight Commemoration Act, Public Law 105-389, November 13, 1998, 4. http://www.centennialofflight.gov/about/natl_plan.htm 122 On March 10, 2010, for example, hundreds of Women Airforce Service Pilots (WASPs) were honoured with a Congressional Gold Medal for their service during World War II. 3 These pilots tested and transported various types of airplanes before their use by male pilots during battle. Unlike their male counterparts in the military, the WASP women were mostly volunteers who paid for their own flight training. The missions they flew were dangerous and required the same level of skill as needed by male pilots flying combat missions, yet it was only in 1978 that Congress acknowledged the WASPs’ significance by recognizing them as veterans and granting them limited military benefits. 4 The stories of several WASP members have been documented in “Fly Girls” (1999), produced by the American Experience and aimed at presenting “the largely unknown story” of the WASPs who “recall the planes they flew, the challenges they met, and the pride they felt in playing a role in the American war effort.” 5 There has also been renewed interest in the exploits of aviation pioneer Amelia Earhart (1897-1937), widely known as the first woman to fly solo across the Atlantic Ocean in 1932, and generally less known as a strong advocate of women’s rights in aviation. Plans to create a statue of Earhart in the United States Capitol’s statuary hall are illustrative of her standing in the public mind. 6 And when remnants of a bone were found recently on a remote island in the South Pacific, hopes were raised that the truth might finally be revealed through DNA tests about 3 Christian Science Monitor, “Decades Later, Women Pilots from World War II Get Their Due,” March 10, 2010. 4 Katherine Sharp Landdeck, “Experiment in the Cockpit. The Women Airforce Service Pilots of World War II,” in The Airplane in American Cultur, ed. Dominick A Pisano (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 2006), 195. See also Katherine S. Gray, “Flying in Formation: Creating a Place for Women in Aviation Through the Ninety- Nines, the Women Airforce Service Pilots, and the Whirly Girls,” Master’s Thesis (Miami University Oxford, Ohio, 2007). The women of the British Air Transport Auxiliary (ATA) were also recently commemorated by the British government. See for instance the Telegraph, “Air Transport Auxiliary Women to Be Honoured,” February 21, 2008. 5 See http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/flygirls/filmmore/index.html [accessed February 23, 2011]. 6 See for instance Washington Post, “Amelia Earhart Flies Into Statuary Hall,” August 27, 2010. http://www.pbs.org/wgbh/amex/flygirls/filmmore/index.html 123 Earhart’s mysterious disappearance in 1937 during her attempt to fly around the world. 7 The movie Amelia, released in October 2009, attempted to provide new insights into Earhart’s life and her accomplishments as a pilot, although her aviation aspirations were somewhat overshadowed by the script’s focus upon her romantic relationship with her publicity manager and later husband, George Palmer Putnam. Despite this increased level of interest in female aviation pioneers, many of the remarkable exploits of hundreds of women who were pilots during the 1920s and 1930s remain unacknowledged. 8 Indeed, the movie Amelia may well have given an incorrect impression that aside from Earhart, there were no other female pilots worth celebrating in the 1920s or before. To be sure, Earhart’s legacy was a strong symbol for women’s emancipation during the turbulent interwar years, but it should not be forgotten that she was, in many ways, a woman of privilege. Unlike most female pilots of the time, Earhart’s parents were fully supportive of her aviation career and even helped her purchase her first airplane. 9 As one of a handful of female aviators in the early 1920s, she was selected to be the first female passenger to be flown across the Atlantic Ocean in 1928. This flight, combined with her physical resemblance to Charles Lindbergh, the much-celebrated aviation hero who flew solo across the Atlantic in 1927, was the beginning of “Lady Lindy’s” successful aviation career. Strongly promoted by George Palmer Putnam, 7 See for instance Texarkana Gazette, “Researchers May Have Solved Mystery of Earhart Disappearance,” December 18, 2010; New York Times, “DNA Tests May Resolve Enduring Earhart Mystery,” December 18, 2010. 8 In 1933, for example, there were no less than 608 licensed pilots in the United States. See The 99er, “To Date Data on Women Pilots,” December 2, 1933. 9 Elizabeth Amelia Hadley Freydberg, Bessie Coleman The Brownskin Lady Bird (New York & London 1994), 112. See also p. 111, 113. See also Susan Ware, Still Missing. Amelia Earhart and the Search for Modern Feminism (New York: Norton, 1993), 36. 124 Earhart was able to fund her aviation adventures as well as write several books and articles describing her life and experiences as a white, female adventurer and aviator. 10 Who, then, were those other exceptionally skilled female aviation pioneers who remain largely underrepresented in writings on aviation history? Although plans are underway to produce a movie in honour of Harriet Quimby (1875-1912), America’s first female pilot and the first woman to fly across the English Channel, 11 several female aviation pioneers’ remarkable exploits remain in the dark. Little has been written, for example, about Louise Thaden (1905- 1979), who not only won the first (and extremely hazardous) eight-day women’s cross-country flying race from Santa Monica, California to Cleveland, Ohio in 1929, but also beat her male counterparts in the prestigious Bendix Race in 1936. 12 Much remains to be said about Helen Richy (1909-1947), the first woman to obtain a position as a professional passenger-transport pilot in 1934, 13 but who chose to resign when she was not allowed to fly during bad weather or when she was menstruating. 14 Less well known, especially among white audiences, is Earhart’s nearest contemporary, African American Bessie Coleman (1892-1926). Coleman was an ardent advocate of civil rights for African Americans. She saw aviation as a means for African Americans to enter mainstream 10 See Doris. L. Rich, Amelia Earhart: A Biography (Washington D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1989); Ann Herrmann, “On Amelia Earhart: The Aviatrix as American Dandy,” Michigan Quarterly Review 39 (2000): 77-107. 11 See http://www.onlineprnews.com/news/80279-1290206862-americas-first-female-aviators-story-finally-told-in- biographs-harriet-quimby-movie.html [accessed February 23, 2011]. 12 Joe Christy, Racing Planes and Pilots, Aircraft Competition, Past and Present! (Blue Ridge Summit, Pennsylvania: 1982), 123; Claudia Oakes, United States Women in Aviation 1930-1939 (Washington D.C.: Smithsonian Institution, 1985), 29-30. Louise Thaden devoted an entire chapter to her 1936 Bendix Race victory in her autobiography High, Wide and Frightened, 109-122. See Louise M. Thaden, High Wide and Frightened (Fayetteville: University of Arkansas Press, 2004). 13 E. Collier, “Helen Richey is Uncle Sam’s First Woman Air-Mail Pilot,” Washington Post, January, 1935; Oakes, United States Women in Aviation 1930-1939, 13. 14 Christian Science Monitor, “Miss Richey Explains Quitting Pilot’s Job,” November 7, 1935; George Palmer Putnam, Soaring Wings. A Biography of Amelia Earhart (New York: Hartcourt, Brace and Company, 1939), 159- 160. See also Melodie Andrews, “Daredevils and Ladybirds: Gender and the Aviation Industry before World War II,”Essays in Economic and Business History 13(1995): 277-88. 125 society and to counteract the stereotypes that had inhibited their progress in succeeding in the professional sphere. Coleman built a remarkable career as a pilot, and her early death in 1926, like Earhart’s, was both tragic and surrounded by controversy. Given that her name does not “grace the pages of aviation record books” and “is conspicuously absent from aviation histories,” 15 in this chapter I commemorate Bessie Coleman’s important role as an aviation advocate and so contribute to the developing history of female aviators in North America. In addition, I illustrate how Coleman negotiated race, gender and class struggles through her aerial activities. Providing insight into Coleman’s life and personality is challenging, however, given that her aviation career, while covered by the black newspaper press (Chicago Defender, the Baltimore Afro-American and the Pittsburgh Courier), remained mostly unaddressed by the same white newspapers that extensively reported on the stunts, records and races of Earhart and other white women pilots. Though the black newspaper reports on Coleman’s career were not necessarily more limited or less accurate than white reports, the fact that white newspapers seldom reported about Coleman’s aerial activities is indicative of her marginal status in the field of aviation at the time and consequently, in aviation history more generally. In addition, Coleman did not write about her life or contributed stories of her exploits to magazines as did Earhart and Louise Thaden, for example. It is not surprising then that Coleman’s biographers have acknowledged that tracing her past remains a complex task. 16 Unlike biographers Doris L. Rich (1993), Elizabeth A. Hadley Freydberg (1994) and Jacques Béal’s (2008) attempts to provide a full reconstruction of Coleman’s life, my interest lies 15 Freydberg, Bessie Coleman. The Brownskin Lady Bird, 18. 16 The only account of Coleman’s story by a close family member is that of her sister Elois Coleman Patterson in her short memoirs entitled Memoirs of the Late Bessie Coleman Aviatrix. Pioneer of the Negro People in Aviation (1969). This document was obtained through the Bessie Coleman Foundation (BCF) in Washington, D.C. 126 in exploring Coleman’s importance as a stunt flyer, an aviation entrepreneur and an activist, and in providing greater insight into the complex socio-political climate in which she, as a black, working-class woman, navigated her aviation career. 17 I pay attention to the ways in which she performed gender and race in her attempt to gain a foothold in the white, male dominated aviation industry. This chapter is also a response to Pisano’s recent call for historians to take aviation history out of isolation and to increasingly connect it to a broader cultural context. 18 Accordingly, I aim to bring to light the remarkable accomplishments of Bessie Coleman while paying close attention to the race and gender struggles she had to cope with in pursuit of her desire to fly. Moreover, I illustrate that aerial activities by black performers were often received with much anxiety by white individuals because of fears that black Americans would advance in technological fields such as aviation. The Winged Gospel’s Female Missionaries Before the Wright brothers captured the imagination of aviation enthusiasts with their first successful powered flight in 1903, there had been a long history of experiments and exhibitions with lighter-than-air machines as a popular form of entertainment. Since the end of the 18th century, hot-air balloons had attracted large audiences, especially when stunts were 17 It needs to be acknowledged that in this paper I, as a white, European, female author, do not intend to speak for Bessie Coleman; rather, I intend to speak with her. In their paper on perceptions of black female athletes Vertinsky and Captain (1998) write that “[t]heories and analyses of white feminist scholars often make little sense in terms of everyday racial experiences of women of color.” See Patricia Vertinksy and Gwendolyn Captain, “More Myth than History: American Culture and Representations of the Black Female’s Athletic Ability,” Journal of Sport History 25(3) (1998), 534. Indeed, white scholars have too often viewed black peoples’ experiences through their white and usually Western perspectives, often resulting in a reinforcement of stereotypes. Therefore, and as these authors suggest, as a white scholar theorizing about black individuals’ experiences, I aim to engage in dialogue, not monologue by seeking out similarities and differences in experiences of both black and white women who were pilots in the 1920s and ’30s. Vertinksy and Captain, “More Myth than History,” 536. 18 Dominick A. Pisano (ed), “New Directions in the History of Aviation,” in The Airplane in American Culture (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2006), 10. 127 performed on trapezes hanging underneath the airships or when daredevils performed parachute jumps by leaping out of the balloon. Ballooning, as Pisano points out, was synonymous with circus performances, which were becoming increasingly popular at the time. This new form of mass entertainment was not without risk and severe injury, and even death, was common. The more spectacular ballooning became, the more it was associated with recklessness and death, and eventually came to be regarded as impure and immoral. As a result, the Aero Club of America was established in 1905 with the aim of shifting aviation’s status as entertainment for the masses to a sport appropriate for the wealthy upper class. The club primarily consisted of members of the prestigious Automobile Club of America and other affluent aviation enthusiasts. 19 That same year, the Féderation Aéronautique Internationale (FAI) was created in France to oversee aviation activities and to keep track of aviation records in the United States and in several European countries. This institutionalization and quantification of aviation in 1905 would lay the groundwork for a flourishing aviation industry during the interwar period. 20 Although ballooning had been criticized for being an activity too vulgar to entertain crowds, the spectacular success of stunt flyers (in their even more hazardous heavier-than-air planes) drew large audiences during the 1910s. After a short interruption during World War I, a revival of stunt flying was facilitated by the availability of cheap surplus military aircraft that were no longer needed for the war effort. The most common airplane, the Curtiss JN-4 “Jenny” biplane, was sold for only $300 to $500. 21 Many ex-military pilots who were without jobs after the war took advantage of these cheap planes in order to make a living. They traveled around the 19 Dominick A. Pisano, “The Greatest Show Not on Earth,” in The Airplane in American Culture (Ann Arbor: The University of Michigan Press, 2006), 41-4. 20 Ibid., 47. 21 Amy Sue Bix, “Bessie Coleman Race and Gender Realities Behind Aviation Dreams,” in Realizing the Dream of Flight, ed. Virginia P. Dawson and Mark D. Bowles (Washington: National Aeronautics and Space Administration, NASA History Division, 2005), 2. 128 country and introduced large audiences to aviation technology by taking passengers for short rides and by performing dangerous aerial stunts. These “barnstormers,” 22 as they were called, often teamed up and started “flying circuses.” Not a male-only event, in many of these circuses, women would execute difficult and daring stunts, while men piloted the planes. These women included agile acrobats, wing-walkers, and parachute jumpers who dazzled crowds with their stunts high upon an airplane’s wings or while swinging on a bar beneath the craft. 23 Barnstorming and stunt flying were practically the sole means of access to a career in aviation during the first years after World War I, especially for women who wanted to become part of the budding aviation industry. 24 Unlike the prewar era, when aviation was mainly the privilege of a select few who could afford to buy an airplane and pay for flying lessons, barnstorming in the 1920s made it possible for upwardly mobile women, as well as men, to become involved in the aviation circuit, to make a living out of it and, in some cases, to buy their own planes. 25 “The attraction of women to aviation was a strong one,” Corn points out, “for no 22 Freydberg explains: “Barnstorming was a term initially associated with theatre, and it referred to actors who traveled from city to city and town to town. Because in most cases there was nowhere for them to board, or lodge temporarily while on the performing circuit, they found the nearest barn to sleep in for the night, and by day they moved on to the next town to perform. By the early 1920s aeronautical barnstorming had become synonymous with adventurous people, primarily unemployed former World War I fighter pilots, who flew surplus army aircraft for entertainment. These pilots would “buzz” a town in their aircraft – fly low to get the townspeople’s attention and then fly off towards the nearest open field. There they would exhibit stunts of parachute jumping, wing walking, low dives and dangerously daring maneuvers in the air. The performance usually culminated in taking an eager passenger up for a brief ride in the plane for a fee of $1 to $5, depending on the reputation and the skill of the pilot. At day’s end, the pilots would locate a barn in which to board themselves and the plane for the night.” See Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 85. 23 Margaret Whitman Blair, The Roaring Twenty. The First Cross-Country Air Race for Women (Washington: National Geographic, 2006), 23. 24 See Kathleen Brooks-Pazmany, United States Women in Aviation 1919-1929 (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press 1983), 5-7. 25 Phoebe Fairgrave, for instance, joined ex-military pilot Glenn Messer’s flying circus. She wing walked and performed parachute jumps to be able to pay for her flying lessons. When she had earned enough money, she opened the ‘Phoebe Fairgrave Flying Circus.’ She married pilot Vernon Omlie in 1922 and together they stayed in the barnstorming business until they were able to establish their more lucrative Mid-South Airlines company in Memphis, Tennessee. Brooks-Pazmany, United States Women in Aviation 1919-1929, 5-7. 129 better activity symbolized the freedom and power which was lacking in their daily lives.” 26 This sentiment certainly permeated Earhart’s and other female pilots’ writings about their exploits. In 1928, pilot Margery Brown, for example, informed her readers that flying was more symbolic to women than to men. Whereas flying to men was merely mechanical, she said, for women, “it seems to signify rising above their environment in one way or another,” symbolizing “freedom from the irking limitations that have hedged them about for so many centuries.” 27 Considerable controversy existed about women’s ‘proper’ role in this new field of endeavour. While women were generally accepted and often celebrated in their roles as stunt flyers and aerial performers, they were looked down upon when they wanted to become pilots themselves in order to gain a foothold in the aviation business. Popularly held views about women’s lesser intelligence and inferior biology caused great difficulty for female pilots, as it was generally accepted that women’s lack of technical knowledge and inability to concentrate for long stretches of time made them incapable of flying. Their inherent nervous nature would inevitably cause them to crash. 28 Women were also considered biologically incapable of flying during their menstrual periods, an argument used to explain airplane crashes, as well as to keep women away from jobs as airline pilots in the 1930s. 29 26 Jospeph J. Corn, “Making Flying ‘Thinkable’: Women Pilots and the Selling of Aviation 1927-1940,” American Quarterly 31 (4) (1979): 558; Joseph J. Corn, The Winged ospe . America’s Romance with Aviation, 1900-1950 (New York: Oxford University Press 1983), 75. 27 Margery Brown, “Women and Flying,”Popular Aviation, August 1928, 44. See also Karen Piper, “The Gendered Aerial Perspective,” in Cartographic Fictions. Maps, Race, and Identity, 65-94 (New Brunswick, New Jersey, and London, 2002), 74. 28 Corn, The Winged Gospel, 76. See also Margery Brown, “What Men Flyers Think of Women Pilots”, Popular Aviation (March 1929), 62. 29 Illustrative in this context is George Palmer Putnam’s quote in Earhart’s biography: “The medical officers held to the conviction that this [that women had a time every month when their nerves and reactions were thrown out of balance] was bound to be true, and nothing could be done about it. Individual medical history made no difference. Clinical tests made no difference. It was just a fact, and how could full transport dependability be expected in the face of it? Putnam, Soaring Wings,62. 130 As the American public became increasingly captivated by the promise of aviation technology, airplane manufacturers realized they could capitalize on this new niche market. One of the main obstacles, however, was the discrepancy between the nation’s enthusiasm about aviation and the actual application of the technology. Few were brave enough to take a ride in the unstable-looking and rather flimsy airplane models and most preferred to marvel at stunt flyers’ performances from the safety of the ground. The onlookers’ fear was not without reason, as airplane crashes, often with deadly effects, were common. It was on the nexus of the dangerous nature of aviation in the 1920s, women’s enthusiasm for flying and the generally held beliefs about women’s inferior flying capabilities that aircraft manufacturers found a new strategy to promote aviation. Under the motto ‘if a woman is capable of flying, it must be safe and easy,’ aircraft manufacturers hired female pilots to promote the safety and reliability of their planes. 30 Female aviators thus had to maintain a balance between the opportunities offered by manufacturers and their personal attitudes regarding the gender roles assigned to them in the male-dominated aviation industry. Regardless of the industry’s questionable strategy, many women pilots became aviation promoters and considered it their task to encourage America to become more ‘airminded.’ 31 ‘Airmindedness,’ it was believed, was something that had to be incorporated in one’s lifestyle, and would enable the nation to adequately prepare for the promising age of aviation. As Corn so brilliantly illustrates in The Winged Gospel (1983), aviation in the 1920s and 1930s took on the allure of a new religion, something that would make America a better place. Women, in this 30 Pilot Louise Thaden, for example, was an airplane salesperson; Blanche Noyes flew as a company pilot for Standard Oil of Ohio before accepting a piloting position with the United States Department of Commerce; and Amelia Earhart sold airplanes, piloted aircraft on publicity tours for manufacturers and also promoted airlines. See Corn, “Making Flying Thinkable,” 556-57. 31 According to Susan Ware, “Being “air-minded” entailed “having enthusiasm for airplanes, believing in their potential to better human life, and supporting aviation development.” Ware, Still Missing, 62. 131 context were aviation’s missionaries. They had to educate the public about the applications and advantages of aviation. To fulfill this mission, they presented flying as an extension of women’s alleged nurturing function, as something that would facilitate family life and could be executed on a daily basis like other household responsibilities. In addition, it was believed that aviation should be implemented in every school’s curriculum. An illustration of this tendency towards “aerial domesticity,” 32 as Corn labels it, was provided by aviator Barbara Southgate in 1934: If she can do it, then flying cannot be dangerous as it has a reputation for being. If she can do it, then it must be safe for my son and daughter to learn to fly. Thus good work can be done for the future of aviation through educational efforts. Who can better perform this task than our girl pilots? Who can better reach the mothers, the women’s colleges, the women’s clubs, and the high schools to aid the world in developing this comparatively new industry? … Our high schools have gone air- minded. Many of them have formed aero-clubs that are actively interested in aeronautics. Some high schools even have girls’ flying clubs. Colleges have their clubs. The day is not far distant when the schools will offer courses in aviation and aeronautical engineering even as the universities are doing. 33 Not only was it suggested that all schools would offer courses in aeronautics, it was also believed that the airplane itself would fulfill a significant role in everyday life. “There is a distinct place in American aviation for the “family ship,” the personal plane, piloted by the owner, or his son or his daughter, as the family car is operated today,” the North American Review stated in 1928. 34 Likewise, Earhart predicted that the “family car of today will be the family plane of tomorrow.” 35 Attempts to preach airmindedness and increase the nation’s aviation enthusiasm were directed only at a white and rather privileged audience in the United States. There was no such thing as a ‘winged gospel’ for African Americans who might aspire to play a part in the 32 Corn, “Making Flying “Thinkable”,” 564. 33 Barbara Southgate, “Not in Competition with Men,” Airwoman 2 (1) (1934): 4. 34 C. D. Chamberlin, “Shall We All Fly Soon?,” North American Review 226 (4) (1928): 410. 35 Amelia Earhart, “Try Flying Yourself,” Hearst’s Internationa -Cosmopolitan, November 1928, 35. 132 American aviation industry. Several African American inventors had experimented with designing, building and flying airplanes prior to World War I, but their efforts went unreported by the white aviation industry and remain largely unknown even today. 36 During World War I, Eugene Bullard was the only African American who served as a military pilot. 37 Bullard began his career as a boxer in Liverpool, England and in 1913, was provided the opportunity to fight in Paris where he decided to stay. In 1915, having left the boxing circuit, Bullard joined the French Foreign Legion and won the Croix de Guerre, the highest French military honour while serving as an infantry soldier. In 1916, he transferred to the French Flying Service and flew combat missions as a member of the French-American air squadron, the Lafayette Escadrille. 38 Although Bullard was an incredibly skilled fighter pilot and was credited with the destruction of two German aircraft, he was forced to leave the squadron when the United States entered the war in 1917 and the Lafayette Escadrille became part of the United States Army Service. Thus, his career as a fighter pilot was ended, as African Americans were not allowed to fly in the United States military. 39 There would not be another certified African American pilot until 1921. Dreams of Flight A racially motivated violent incident on June 1, 1921, commonly referred to as the ‘Tulsa race riot,’ greatly affected and shaped African American’s perceptions of aviation. An unresolved lynching incident sparked a much more violent attack the next morning when six 36 Robert Jakeman, “America’s Black Air Pioneers” (Unpublished Dissertation, Maxwell Air Force Base Alabama 1988), 3-5. See also Von Hardesty, Black Wings. Courageous Stories of African Americans in Aviation and Space History (New York: HarperCollins Publishers, 2008); and Samuel Broadnax, Blue Skies, Black Wings (Westport, Connecticut: Praeger, 2007) 37 Jacqueline L. Harris, The Tuskegee Airmen. Black Heroes of World War II (Parsippany, New Jersey: Dillon Press, 1996), 8, 18-19; Jakeman, “America’s Black Air Pioneers,” 4-5. 38 Jakeman, “America’s Black Air Pioneers,” 4; Jill D. Snider, “Flying to Freedom: African-American Visions of Aviation, 1910-1927,”(Unpublished Dissertation, Chapel Hill, North Carolina 1995), 35-36. 39 Harris, The Tuskegee Airmen, 8, 18-19. 133 airplanes, dispatched from the nearby Curtis flying field and piloted by white men, set the Greenwood district of Tulsa, Oklahoma, on fire and killed 75 Tulsans, two-thirds of whom were black. It was the first time in history that airplanes were used to attack a black community, and the incident generated much debate about the dangers for African Americans in the coming aviation age. There was much fear that the airplane, in white men’s hands, could result in the extermination of the African American race. 40 According to Snider, two main philosophies emerged in the riot’s aftermath. The Garvey Movement, established by the Black Nationalist leader Marcus Garvey, focused primarily on the airplane as a menace and a tool of the white man for controlling the African American race. Anticipating a great race war, Garvey encouraged African Americans to become involved in aviation and to secure as many airplanes as possible. Adopting an apocalyptic undertone, he was convinced that the Tulsa incident was just the beginning, and that if African Americans did not take action immediately, it would lead to their elimination. The Chicago Defender, the Pittsburgh Courier and the Baltimore Afro-American all entertained a more constructive and positive perspective, promoting aviation as an opportunity for African Americans to take advantage of the budding aviation industry, rather than viewing it as a menace. By learning how to fly, African Americans would not only be able to become part of the ‘winged gospel’ of mainstream society, but would also dispel stereotypes about their lesser intelligence, incompetence and lack of ambition. 41 It was Bessie Coleman who would become the promoter and, indeed, the personification of this latter view. 40 Jill D. Snider, “ “Great Shadow in the Sky” The Airplane in the Tulsa Riot of 1921 and the Development of African American Visions of Aviation, 1921-1926,” in The Airplane in American Culture, ed. Dominick A. Pisano (Ann Arbor, Michigan: The University of Michigan Press 2006), 105, 112. 41 Snider, “Great Shadow in the Sky,” 115. 134 Bessie Coleman was born in 1892 in Atlanta, Texas, the twelfth of thirteen children. 42 Like many African Americans who fled from the racist and increasingly violent climate in the segregated South with the hope finding a better life in the more ‘progressive’ North, Coleman went to Chicago in 1915. Like her mother, who had always encouraged her children to pursue their interests despite the poor circumstances in which they lived, Coleman showed determination and business acumen in everything she undertook. Her entrepreneurial skills were remarked upon by the Chicago Defender shortly after she began work as a manicurist at a barbershop where she won a contest as the best and fastest manicurist in black Chicago. 43 The Defender reported that Coleman was “an example of what a progressive up-to-date young woman should be” and that she “should be an inspiration to other young women who contemplate following the same line of endeavour.” 44 Referring to her successes as a manicurist, Coleman’s name would appear several more times in the Defender, although she soon left the barbershop scene for pursuits that were perhaps more exciting and exclusive, such as flying an airplane – not a surprising development, given her desire for entrepreneurial opportunities, her energy, and her zest for life. Like many other Americans, Bessie Coleman was enthralled by the burgeoning aviation industry. Not only did the stories about aviators in World War I that she heard from her male clientele in the barbershop arouse her interest, 45 but her two older brothers, John and Walter, who had both served in France as soldiers, also told her about their fascination with airplanes and 42 Controversy exists around Coleman’s date of birth. Although her sister Elois Patterson writes in her memoirs that Coleman was born in 1893 and while her pilot license indicates 1896, most sources refer to 1892 as Coleman’s correct year of birth. 43 Doris L. Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator (Washington: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1993), 14, 19-20. See also K. Creasman, “Black Birds in the Sky: The Legacies of Bessie Coleman and Dr. Mae Jemison,” The Journal of Negro History 82 (1)(1997): 158-68. 44 Chicago Defender, “Miss Bessie Coleman Among the First to Clamp on “Flu” Lid,” November 2, 1918. 45 Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 179. 135 flying. They also mentioned that there were several French women who had learned to fly, not thinking that this would ever be a possibility for their sister. 46 Coleman increasingly developed a desire to fly and while her motives for attaining that goal were somewhat obscure, it would later become clear that Coleman would use her skills as both a pilot and an entrepreneur to actively promote aviation among African Americans. Coleman had a strong personality and was determined to pursue her goals regardless of other people’s advice. She clearly did not follow the usual path dictated for a woman of her age and background. When she married Claude Glenn in 1917, who was fourteen years her senior, she did not inform any of her close family members, and it is not clear whether Coleman and Glenn ever actually lived together. According to her niece Marion, Coleman was an attractive woman who had various relationships with both black and white men. 47 Because she was relatively light-skinned, she was able to “make herself up to look like different nationalities,” the wife of one of Coleman’s brothers noted. 48 It must also be noted that most of the small number of photographs taken of Coleman still circulating today, do not give away Coleman’s racial identity. Not only is her black curly hair covered by her flying cap and goggles, but her skin colour seems purposefully lightened. The blurring of performers’ racial identity, often emphasizing identification with the supposedly superior white European race, was certainly not unusual. Jazz dancer Josephine Baker and her photographers, for example, seemed to adopt similar strategies, darkening or lightening her skin colour depending on whether the picture had to convey black exoticism or white European ‘sophistication.’ It is not certain, however, to which extent Coleman promoted herself as ‘white.’ Like trapeze artists Miss Lala (1858-?) for 46 Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 26-27. 47 Ibid., 23, 31. 48 Ibid., pp. 3, 80. 136 example, whose skin colour was deliberately lightened by French painter Edgard Dégas, 49 Coleman’s photographers may also have played with her skin colour’s shades. Undoubtedly, Coleman’s business acumen and her good looks facilitated her aviation career. Willet, in her paper on the history of manicurists, takes it one step further by suggesting that in the 1910s and 1920s, many male patrons saw little difference between a female manicurist and a saloon girl or prostitute, and suggests that Coleman developed relationships with Chicago’s most powerful and influential men while working in the barbershop. No doubt, she writes, many men “found her an object of titillation.” 50 Although there is no evidence as to how exactly Coleman was able to secure funds, it is clear that she was able to establish various connections with influential businessmen who encouraged her to become involved in aviation and financially supported her plans to fly. One of these businessmen was Robert Abbott, the wealthy editor of the Chicago Defender and an ardent promoter of the advancement of African Americans. He shared a vision with Coleman that African Americans should be encouraged to take an interest in aviation. He also wanted to promote his newspaper, and in Coleman he saw the perfect candidate for boosting the public’s interest in the Defender. Whether Abbott genuinely believed in Coleman’s abilities or whether he simply saw the unusual story of an attractive young woman attempting to fly as an opportunity to increase his revenues is not clear. It was Abbott and, presumably, African American philanthropist Jesse Binga, founder of the Binga State Bank, who provided Coleman with the initial funds necessary to pursue her ambitious plans. According to Freydberg, Binga 49 See Marilyn R. Brown, “ “Miss Lala’s” Teeth: Reflections on Degas and “Race,” The Art Bulletin 89 (4) (2007): 738-65. 50 Julie Willet, “Hands Across the Table.” A Short History of the Manicurist in the Twentieth Century,” Journal of Women’s Histor 17 (3) (2005): 63. 137 and Abbott were the benefactors behind the practical business pursuits that were established by many prominent African American during the early 1920s. 51 On a Mission to France At the time that Coleman wanted to learn to fly, there were no other African American aviators and almost all flying schools in the United States were operated by white men. 52 None of them accepted black candidates and only a small number of schools accepted women. Moreover, the few schools that did accept women often had little confidence in a female pupil’s abilities. “Instructors start in with a prejudice, and the woman student labours under a decided handicap,” asserted aviator Louise Thaden. 53 Flying lessons were expensive, so the few women who were able to enroll in aviation classes often had difficulties in finding the necessary resources to buy and maintain an airplane once the instruction period was over. Unlike their male counterparts, who were able to work as mechanics at airports to pay off their flying lessons or to buy an airplane, aspiring female pilots most often were not welcomed in such positions. 54 “No one wants a feminine ‘grease monkey’ around the hangar to do the odd jobs which may partly pay for a young man’s aviation training,” Earhart pointed out. 55 Also, while men wanting 51 Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 72-74; Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 29-30. 52 A recent article recalls the adventures of African American pilot Emory Malick, who was probably the first African American to gain a pilot license (March 1912) from the Curtiss Aviation School on North Island, San Diego. It is unclear whether he still practiced flying when Bessie Coleman received her license in 1921 in France. This fact is remarkable as Bessie Coleman was unable to obtain a license in the United States. See Black Pilots of America, “The Unrecognized First,” April 2011. 53 Louise M. Thaden, “Training Women Pilots,” Western Flying, February 1931, 22. 54 Corn, “Making Flying ‘Thinkable’,” 563. 55 Amelia Earhart, The Fun of It, Random Records of My Own Flying And of Women in Aviation (Chicago: Academy Chicago Publishers, 1977), 145. An exception, however, was Florence Klingensmith. She attended electrical ground school as the only girl among four hundred boys. She worked as a mechanic apprentice and “through dirt and grease” she worked her way to one solo flight out of every six hours of instruction. Clara Studer (ed), “Women Can Fly Too,” The Ninety-Niner 12 (1933):1-2. 138 to learn how to fly could enlist in the army or navy and receive both free instruction and a salary, this was not an option for women. 56 Because learning how to fly was impossible for Coleman in the United States, Abbott encouraged her to try to find a flying school in France, the country that had offered Eugene Bullard his flight training in 1917. Interwar France, and Paris in particular, was attractive to black musicians, singers, dancers, athletes and other types of performers because it was generally perceived to be “a color-blind land of tolerance” 57 that provided both venues and enthusiastic audiences for their performances. Coleman was not the first among her fellow country(wo)men to go to Paris in the hope of finding opportunities in Europe’s supposedly more welcoming and less overtly racist climate. Like Bullard, who went to Paris to box in the European circuit, Texan boxer Jack Johnson tried his luck as a boxer and vaudeville performer in Europe earlier on (1908-1915). 58 Another of Coleman’s contemporaries, Josephine Baker, started her career as a member of the infamous Broadway musical Shuffle Along (1921) before opening her own cabaret in France in 1925, revolutionizing the Parisian entertainment scenery with her erotic, almost nude, dance performances. 59 France was not only a popular site for staged entertainment, it was also a hub for barnstormers and other aviation enthusiasts in the 1920s. The country had been the first to host an international air meet in 1909 in Reims, and was well known for its numerous aviation pioneers and the good reputation of its aircraft manufacturers. 60 56 Earhart, “Try Flying Yourself,” 158. 57 Karen C. C. Dalton and Henry L. Gates, Jr., “Josephine Baker and Paul Colin: African American Dance Seen through Parisian Eyes, Critical Inquiry 24 (4) (1998): 904. 58 See for instance Arthur Ashe, A Hard Road to Glory: The African American Athlete in Boxing (New York, N.Y.: Amistad, 1993). 59 Dalton and Gates, “Josephine Baker and Paul Colin”; See also Elisabeth Ezra, “A Colonial Princess. Josephine Baker’s French Films,” in The Colonial Unconscious. Race and Culture in Interwar France (Ithaca and London : Cornell University Press, 2000), 97-128. 60 See Luc Robène, Dominique Bodin and Stéphane Héas, “Pau et l’Invention de l’Aviation ‘Sportive’ (1908-1910). Des Enjeux Technologiques aux Plaisirs Mondains: Naissance d'Un Loisir et Nouveaux Pouvoirs du Corps,” Revue 139 Coleman’s career thus took off at the crossroads of aviation’s popularity as form of entertainment in both France and the United States, and France’s more welcoming attitude towards African Americans. In November 1920, Coleman sailed for France. 61 She visited several flying schools near Paris, though flight instructors there tried to discourage her from taking up flying because two other women had recently died in a crash during practice. 62 Although many men had lost their lives while flying, the sport was considered too dangerous for women. Coleman was still determined to earn her license and finally found the Caudron School of Aviation that was willing to accept her. René and Gaston Caudron had opened their flying school in 1912 in Le Crotoy, 63 near the bay of the Somme, where long stretches of sandy beach offered an excellent base for take-offs and landings. 64 The school had been closed during the war and reopened in 1919. The brothers wanted to attract students to their flying school, so they kept the tariffs for lessons low and they also welcomed women. 65 Coleman completed the ten-month course requirements and passed her exams at the Caudron School. On June 15, 1921, after passing the strict FAI examination, she earned the first international pilot license (No. 18.310) ever awarded to an African American woman. 66 Internationale des Sciences du Sport et de l'Education Physique 87 (2010) : 13-31; James M. Laux, “The Rise and Fall of Armand Deperdussin,” French Historical Studies 8 (1) (1973), 95-104 ; Thomas Ameye, Bieke Gils and Pascal Delheye, “Belgian Pioneers in Rally Racing and Aerial Sports during the Belle Époque,” The International Journal for the History of Sport 28 (2) (2011) : 205-39. 61 Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 72-74; Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 29-30. 62 Chicago Defender, “Aviatrix Must Sign Away Life to Learn Trade,” October 8, 1921. 63 Le Crotoy is a village by the North Sea, approximately 250 kilometres North of Paris. 64 Jacques Béal, Bessie o eman L’Ange Noir (Paris: Editions Michalon 2008), 73-74. 65 Ibid., p. 75. 66 Chicago Defender, “Chicago Girl is Full-Fledged Aviator Now,” October 1, 1921; Chicago Defender, “Aviatrix Must Sign Away Life to Learn Trade,” October 8, 1921; Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 82. 140 Image 5: Bessie Coleman’s French pilot license. Courtesy of the National Air and Space Museum, Smithsonian Institution. Later that year, approximately four months after the atrocities in Greenwood, Tulsa, Coleman went back to Chicago. Much hope now lay with her, as she was the only black pilot in the United States and was already perceived as a successful woman by the black community. The Shuffle Along musical company welcomed her with a cup “as a token of their appreciation of her achievement in aviation.” 67 Coleman had become the African American winged gospel’s missionary – almost literally an angel from the sky – who held together the belief that there was a future for African Americans in aviation. Playing up her own courage and the perceived urge for African Americans to enter aviation and catch up with white pilots, Coleman told a Chicago Defender reporter: 67 Chicago Defender, “ ‘Shuffle Along’ Company Gives Fair Flyer Cup,” October 8, 1921. 141 Well, … I knew we had no aviators, neither men nor women, and I knew the Race needed to be represented among this most important line, so I thought it my duty to risk my life to learn aviating and to encourage flying among men and women of the Race who are so far behind the white men in this special line. 68 Despite her enthusiasm and the black community’s confidence in her abilities, Coleman’s plans did not run smoothly. In order to locate an airplane and a flying field for her shows in the United States, she had to rely on the white aviation community. Yet few white newspapers picked up her remarkable story. White aviators and owners of airfields either did not know her or simply chose to ignore her because of their lack of confidence in the flying abilities of a black woman, and thus her aspirations for a flying show did not materialize. 69 On February 22, 1922, Coleman sailed back to France in the hope of finding a solution there. 70 It is not clear how she was able to fund this second trip, but “in circumstances different from her first departure,” Rich points out, “Bessie now had not only chic Paris gowns and attractive leather flying apparel but much favorable newspaper exposure, especially from hometown supporter Robert Abbott’s Chicago Defender.” 71 Missionary, Entrepreneur, Entertainer Upon her arrival back in New York on August 14, 1922, having spent approximately six months abroad, Coleman was not only welcomed by African American reporters, but also by those of the New York Times and the Chicago Tribune. 72 The news about her success in Europe 68 New York Times, “Negro Aviatrix Arrives,” August 14, 1922. 69 Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 83. 70 Chicago Defender, “Bessie Coleman Leaves New York for France,” February 25 1922; Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 39. 71 Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 39. It needs to be mentioned that information on Coleman’s time abroad is hard to find and that also her biographers - of whom one, Jacques Béal, is French - remain rather unspecific on this particular episode in Coleman’s life. The information that is available is largely based on the accounts of the Chicago Defender. 72 Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 83-85. 142 must have reached the United States before her arrival, as it certainly sparked the curiosity of the white newspapers. The New York Times announced that the “Negro aviatrix” had arrived and enthusiastically reported on Coleman’s accomplishments abroad: Termed by leading French and Dutch aviators one of the best flyers they had seen, Miss Bessie Coleman, said to be the only negro aviatrix in the world, returned from Europe yesterday to give a series of exhibitions in this country, particularly among her own people. At Staaken, the flying field outside Berlin, Miss Coleman, without any instruction, flew a 220-horsepower Benz motored L. F. G. plane, winning for herself, according to documents she brought back, the distinction of having piloted the largest plane ever flown by a woman. German newspapers spoke in high terms of her ability. Miss Coleman visited Amsterdam, where she flew planes manufactured by Anthony G. H. Fokker, and at Friedrichshafen she gave a series of flights in a Dornier flying boat. 73 A similar report in the Chicago Defender added that “Queen Bess:” ...had been proclaimed by experts at the art of flying in France, Germany, Holland and Switzerland as the greatest aviatrix in the world, even surpassing the marvellous record made by the famous Ruth Law.... Miss Coleman possesses her own plane, a Fokker C-2, which she brought with her from Holland. Several other machines have been ordered for instruction purposes. She will import European pilots as teachers of the profession. While waiting for her equipment from abroad Miss Coleman will travel throughout the United States and the pan-American countries. 74 The airplanes Coleman was said to have ordered never arrived, but the favourable acknowledgements of her accomplishments by both black and white newspapers now enabled the organization of her long-planned flying shows. It would not prove an easy task, however, to balance expectations from black audiences, white audiences, managers and other individuals who tried to capitalize on her success while simultaneously finding enough financial support to buy airplanes and organize air shows. 73 New York Times, “Negro Aviatrix Arrives,” August 14, 1922. 74 Chicago Defender, “Bessie to Fly Over Gotham,” August. 26, 1922. 143 In an attempt to pursue her goals in aviation, Coleman had to play several roles. Not only did she have to fulfill her position as an aviation missionary or crusader as Snider points out, but also as an entrepreneur and an entertainer. 75 These roles frequently conflicted and they made Coleman’s motivations often seem controversial. This happened mostly when companies tried to lure Coleman into some kind of lucrative project that would offer her financial support, but was at the same time disrespectful of her personal ambitions and background. The manner in which Coleman negotiated these opportunities that also imposed restrictions on her ambitions is best illustrated in the ways she organized her shows, entertained both black and white audiences and interacted with her managers. By the end of August 1922, with Abbott as her sponsor and publicity manager, Coleman had established headquarters at the Chicago Defender’s offices in New York to book her barnstorming exhibitions. 76 For her first exhibition, on September 3, 1922, at the Curtiss airfield in Garden City, Long Island (New York), the Glenn Curtiss Company, the largest aircraft manufacturer in the United States, lent her one of its airplanes. 77 “Beyond question, this event will be the greatest attraction ever staged in America,” the Chicago Defender asserted, guaranteeing that the “wonderful little woman, the only aviatrix of the Race, will do heart-thrilling stunts that will be astounding.” 78 The newspaper also promised “eight other sensational flights by American aces,” as well as “giant passenger planes holding 16 or more passengers in which sightseeing flights by the public will be made.” 79 75 Snider, “Flying to Freedom,” 135, 138. 76 Chicago Defender, “Bessie to Fly Over Gotham,” August 26, 1922; Hadley Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, p. 86; Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, p. 48. 77 For more information on Glenn Curtiss, one of the most influential airplane manufacturers at the time, see C. R. Roseberry, Glenn Curtiss, Pioneer of Flight (Syracuse, New York 1999). 78 Chicago Defender, “Rain Halts the Initial Flight of Miss Bessie,” September 2, 1922. 79 Ibid. 144 Revealing her talent as a brilliant entertainer, Coleman did not disappoint her audience. She arranged a show that appealed to both white and black audiences by playing on America’s patriotism in general and on the promotion of African Americans in particular. She staged the show in honour of the Fifteenth New York Infantry, the first African American regiment sent to France during World War I, which was comprised primarily of jazz musicians and theatre practitioners. Although the regiment no longer existed, the Fifteenth’s regimental band, known for introducing Europe to brass-band jazz, was still operational. 80 After the band played The Star Spangled Banner, Coleman, dressed in breeches and a French officer’s jacket with a Sam Brown belt, went up twice “to the delight of the hundreds of enthusiasts of both races.” 81 Although stunt flying was not allowed on Curtiss field and Coleman could not perform the aerial tricks she had learned in Europe, her show proved a spectacular success. In addition, while the eight promised American aces did not make an appearance, 82 Hubert Fauntleroy Julian, a black aviation enthusiast and parachute jumper from Trinidad, “thrilled the spectators with a parachute drop from a Curtiss plane from over 2,000 feet in the air and landed without injury.” 83 This jump would be the beginning of Julian’s own aviation career. 84 80 Amelia Elisabeth Hadley Freydberg, “Bessie Coleman: Original Fierce Flying Sistah,” Abafazi: The Simmons College Journal of Women of African Descent 7 (1) (1996): 10; The Chicago Defender, “Rain Halts the Initial Flight of Miss Bessie,” September 2, 1922. The doughboys here refer to American infantrymen who served during World War I. 81 Hadley Freydberg, “Bessie Coleman,” 10; Chicago Defender, “Bessie Gets Away; Does Her Stuff,” September 9, 1922, 3. 82 Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 49. 83 Chicago Defender, “Bessie Gets Away; Does Her Stuff,” September 9, 1922. According to Freydberg, “… Hubert Faunterloy Julian, an officer of Garvey’s United Negro Improvement Association of New York, dressed in a bright red outfit, joined her in the cockpit. (p. 10) Julian was a flamboyant, wealthy, adventuresome young man born in Port of Spain, Trinidad, a year after Coleman’s birth. He had arrived in Harlem in July 1921, by way of Canada, with the intent of becoming a pilot. Julian had not yet earned the title of “Black Eagle.” His aviation career was launched when he parachuted from the wing of Coleman’s airplane at approximately 1,500-2,000 feet in the air during this event.” (p. 11) See, Freyberg, “Bessie Coleman: Original Fierce Flying Sistah.” 84 Freyberg, “Bessie Coleman,” 11. 145 In September 1922, Coleman returned to Chicago, where she began preparations for her second airshow, which was to be held at the Checkerboard Aerodrome a month later. The Defender announced that “an elaborate program of special flights has been arranged for “Queen Bess,” whose daredevil flying amazed continental Europe and was applauded in Paris, Berlin and Munich.” 85 This time, Coleman performed stunts, including figure eights in honour of the African American Eighth Illinois Infantry regiment. 86 While the regiment band entertained the audience with jazz music, Coleman executed several stunts named after famous flying aces. She took off, for example, with a “French Nungesser start,” referring to France’s third-ranking World War I fighter pilot, Charles Nungesser. According to Freydberg, this stunt consisted of staying low to the ground during take-off and dipping the plane close to the audience before ascending into the air. 87 In this same flight, the Defender wrote, “the Spansih [sic] Bertha Costa Climb was made and the American Curtis McMullen turn, the Eddie Rickenbacker straighten-up, the Richtofer-German glide and the Ralph C. Diggings landing were featured.” 88 The “Bertha Costa Climb” referred to American (not Spanish) pilot Bertrand B. Costa. 89 American Eddie Rickenbacker, German Manfred von Richthofen and American (Chicagoan) Ralph Diggins were all World War I flying aces, credited with several air combat victories. 90 In addition to Coleman’s stunts, the Defender had also announced a “drop of death,” or parachute jump, by Coleman’s sister Georgia. 91 According to Freydberg, Bessie had not instructed her sister about how to perform a parachute 85 Chicago Defender “ “Queen Bess” to Try Air October 15,” October 7, 1922. 86 Ibid. 87 Chicago Defender, “Bessie Coleman Makes Initial Aerial Flight,” October 21, 1922; Freydberg, “Bessie Coleman,” 11. 88 Chicago Defender, “Bessie Coleman Makes Initial Aerial Flight,” October 21, 1922. 89 Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 49. 90 Freydberg, “Bessie Coleman,” 11. 91 Chicago Defender ““Queen Bess” to Try Air October 15,” October 7, 1922. 146 jump until the actual moment she was supposed to jump out of the plane, so Georgia refused. 92 According to Rich, however, Bessie had discussed the jump with Georgia the night before and it was then that she refused. Regardless of what actually happened, the fact that Coleman seemed to trust that her sister would be able to perform a parachute jump without prior instruction illustrates her adventure-seeking, daredevil personality. It did not seem to occur to her that not everyone shared her delight in such risky stunts. Coleman’s shows were successful in that she was able to provide entertainment for both black and white audiences. Whereas white audiences may have perceived Coleman as an attraction per se – seeing a black woman performing aerial stunts was a spectacular novelty. For the black community, her shows symbolized courage and hope for African American’s increased involvement in aviation. To foster courage and to inspire African Americans to take aviation seriously, Coleman presented herself as a strong-minded, fearless woman. The military outfits she wore for her exhibitions not only symbolized her deep respect for both the black and white individuals who had fought in the war, but also emphasized the seriousness with which she undertook the role of aviation’s advocate. Unquestionably, the media played a major part in the construction of Coleman’s persona as a brave and intrepid African American woman. Unlike white female pilots, whose femininity was emphasized in the media by calling them “lady fliers,” “angels,” “sweethearts of the air” or “flying flappers,” 93 references made to Coleman by white newspapers were less playful, often impersonal and usually pointed to her racialized identity. 94 Headlines such as “First Colored 92 Freydberg, “Bessie Coleman,” 11; Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 88. 93 Frances Drewry McMullen, “The First Women’s Air Derby, An Interview with Amelia Earhart,” The Woman’s Journal, October 1929, 38. 94 Bix, “Bessie Coleman Race and Gender Realities Behind Aviation Dreams,” 11. 147 Aviatrix,” 95 “Negress an Air Pilot,” 96 “Colored Woman a Licensed Pilot” 97 or “Negro Aviatrix Arrives” 98 were frequently used. As Higginbotham has noted, “Ladies,” as white female aviators were often termed, “were not merely women; they represented a class, a differentiated status within the generic category of “women”. … But no black woman, regardless of income, education, refinement, or character enjoyed the status of lady.” 99 Also, as Cahn has pointed out, “womanliness” in the 1920s was rooted in the privileged position of the “lady,” in contrast to the view of black women as “robust, unruly, insensitive in pain or exhaustion, and rough in manners.” 100 At the same time, black newspapers referred to Coleman as “Queen Bess,” “Queen of the Air,” 101 “Bird Woman” 102 and “pioneer air bird of the race,” 103 which perhaps also de- emphasized Coleman’s femininity, but did show respect for her position as a leading figure and an advocate for African Americans in aviation. Higginbotham explains that to be called a “race leader,” “race woman” or in this case “race aviatrix,” by the black community “was not a sign of insult or disapproval…” It was a way for blacks to fashion “race into a cultural identity that resisted white hegemonic discourses.” 104 A few days after Coleman’s show in Chicago, the Baltimore Afro-American announced that she had agreed to star in the film Shadow and Sunshine, to be produced by the African 95 Philadelphia Tribune, “First Colored Aviatrix,” October 1, 1921. 96 Washington Post, “Negress An Air Pilot,” July 4, 1922. 97 New Journal and Guide, “U.S. Rule in Virgin Islands Assailed,” July 15, 1922. 98 New York Times, “Negro Aviatrix Arrives,” August 14, 1922. 99 Evelyn Brooks Higginbotham, “African-American Women’s History and the Metalanguage of Race,” Signs 17(2) (1992): 261. 100 Susan Cahn, Coming on Strong: Gender and Sexuality in Twentieth-cent r Women’s port (Don Mills, Ontario: Maxwell Macmillan, Inc, 1994), 28. 101 Chicago Defender, “Bessie to Fly Over Gotham,” August 26, 1922; The Chicago Defender ““Queen Bess” to Try Air October 15,” October 7, 1922. 102 Baltimore Afro-American, “Bird Woman Falls 300 Feet,” February 9, 1923. 103 Pittsburgh Courier, “Death-Defying Bird-Woman,” September 15, 1923. 104 Higginbotham, “African-American Women’s History and the Metalanguage of Race,” 267. 148 American-owned Seminole Film Company. 105 “Bessie Coleman, the only colored woman aviatrix, will be the featured artist. Supporting her will be about twelve carefully selected and experienced movie performers,” the newspaper reported in October 1922. 106 Although Coleman had indeed signed the contract, to the great frustration of the Seminole filmmakers, she did not show up for the filming. The production of the film had been delayed, the Baltimore Afro-American wrote early December 1922: ...because of the temperament of that young lady [Bessie Coleman], who after coming to New York at the expense of the company, changed her mind and abruptly left New York without notice to the director. Six autos filled with a cast of thirty people, two photographers and the directors waited in vain for two hours on the lady. ... The Seminole is fortunate in that they have obtained the services of Miss Bessie Allison, a pretty little girl with both personality and theatrical experience, to say nothing of an unmistakable culture and a social status that will be an asset to the company. 107 The reason Coleman did not show up for the filming remains obscure. According to Rich, Coleman was told she would have to dress in ragged clothing, and carry a walking stick and a pack on her back to portray an ignorant girl who just arrived in New York. 108 Coleman clearly decided that such an ‘Uncle Tom’ 109 depiction would not further her cause and would not only diminish both her personal efforts and remarkable accomplishments, but would also reinforce stereotypes about African Americans. Although her withdrawal set her back financially and put her reputation at risk, by the end of January 1923, she had taken a job of flying to advertise rubber tires for the Californian Coast Tire and Rubber Company of Oakland. 110 105 Baltimore Afro-American, “Bessie Coleman to Star in a Seminole Super Film,” October 20, 1922. 106 Ibid. 107 Ibid. 108 Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 57; Béal, Bessie o eman L’Ange Noir, 109-10. 109 As quoted in Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 57. 110 Los Angeles Times, “Only One in the World,” January 28, 1923. 149 With the money Coleman made advertising for the tire company (by dropping leaflets out of an airplane, for example), she was able to gather enough funds to buy a Curtiss JN-4 or “Jenny,” one of the most commonly used and cheapest airplanes at the time. During an exhibition in Santa Monica, California, in February 1923, her motor stalled and the plane dove into a crash. Coleman was injured, sustaining a broken leg, fractured ribs, cuts and possibly internal injuries. 111 Fearful that her accident would discourage African Americans from taking up flying and concerned that the general public and her sponsors might lose trust in her abilities, Coleman claimed that the fact she was still living proved that “flying in the air is no more dangerous than riding an automobile on the surface.” 112 Moreover, despite the reality that she had not only lost her plane but also had to recover from severe injuries, Coleman urged the Chicago Defender to inform her fans that she would come back. 113 To support her, the Defender insinuated that perhaps “some mechanics had tampered with the steering apparatus in an effort to keep her from gaining the recognition due to her.” 114 It is uncertain whether Coleman’s plane was indeed sabotaged. The accident may well have resulted from the poor state of her airplane. As Bunn points out, unlike Earhart, who “flew top notch technologically advanced planes, Coleman was forced by her meager financial means to fly second rate, broken down, and falling- apart aircraft...” 115 Between the time of Coleman’s accident in 1923 and May 1925, newspaper coverage of her aviation career dwindled significantly. Not only had the accident cost her possible sponsors, but Coleman had gained a reputation for being unreliable. The Baltimore African American, for 111 Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 65, 69. 112 Chicago Defender, “Bessie Coleman Says Good Will Come From Hurt,” March 10, 1923. 113 Ibid. 114 Chicago Defender, “No Flight by Bessie Coleman; Rain Interferes,” September 8, 1923. 115 Edward DeV.Bunn, Jr., Lifting as he imbed. Bessie o eman’s ontrib tions to the E evation of B ack Women (Gainesville, Florida: Cambridge Lighthouse Press, 2005), 69. 150 example, wrote in May 1924 that “Bessie Coleman, the colored girl who has been presenting herself as an aviatrix for the past two seasons...has in that time accumulated a long list of incomplete contracts, and an almost as lengthy list of managers and agents...” 116 Around the same time, an article in the Chicago Defender warned managers not to book Coleman because “a large number of complaints against Miss Coleman from reliable showmen and noted citizens” had been made. 117 It was not until May 1925 that Coleman finally succeeded in arranging a series of lectures and exhibition flights in her home state of Texas. 118 P. DeWalt, owner of one of the most successful black playhouses in the South, Houston’s Lincoln Theater, supported the cause of ‘lifting up’ African Americans through aviation, and agreed to manage Coleman’s shows. 119 Aside from Coleman’s stunts, the Texas shows also featured established white stunt flyer Captain R. W. Mackie, who probably provided Coleman with an airplane, and one of his troop members, parachute jumper Ulysses Stallings. 120 Coleman’s initial shows in Houston proved so successful that she was invited to perform in Austin, San Antonio, Wharton and Waxahachie, Texas. In Waxahachie, the organizers initially arranged separate admission gates for black and white spectators, but Coleman opposed this plan and refused to perform unless the city provided a single entrance. Although her demand was accommodated, the fact that the audience was segregated again as soon as it had entered the venue must have infuriated Coleman. 121 Asked to perform a parachute jump at the annual flower show of the Orlando Chamber of Commerce in 116 Baltimore Afro-American, “Aviatrix Loses Another Manager,” May 2, 1924. 117 Chicago Defender, “Bessie Banned,” May 24, 1924. 118 Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 83, 85. 119 Snider, “Flying to Freedom,” 203-4. 120 Baltimore Afro-American, “Bessie Coleman flys in Houston,” July 11, 1925; Baltimore Afro-American, “Aviatrix Heads Another Meet,” July 18, 1925; The Chicago Defender, “Aviatrix Performs for Texas Crowds,” July 25, 1925; Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 86; Snider, “Flying to Freedom,” 206. 121 Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 89, 90, 93-95; Snider, “Flying to Freedom,” 209. 151 Florida for a white-only audience, she refused until the organizers, despite strictly enforced segregation laws in Florida, finally gave in and opened the event to both black and white spectators. 122 Image 6: Bessie Coleman on the wheel of a Curtiss JN-4 “Jennie” circa 1924. Courtesy of the National Air and Space Museum, Smithsonian Institution. The Sky is the Limit for Queen Bess In 1926, the Negro Welfare League in Jacksonville, Florida, asked Coleman to perform at their annual First of May Field Day. Honoured, Coleman accepted this invitation, hoping to be able to raise the necessary funds for the flying school she had dreamed of for some time. In Florida, she had trouble locating an airplane because dealers were reluctant to sell planes to 122 Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 104, 105. 152 African Americans. Instead she contacted her (white) mechanic, William D. Wills, in Dallas, Texas, and asked him to fly a plane to Florida for her performance. The plane, again a Jenny, was not very well maintained, and Wills had to make two forced landings on his way to Jacksonville. 123 Nevertheless, that was the plane Coleman could afford and the one she was to use for her show. 124 The day before the exhibition, Wills test-piloted the plane with Coleman as his passenger. When the plane unexpectedly went into a nosedive, Coleman, who was peering over the edge of the cockpit without her seatbelt attached, was catapulted out of the plane and fell to her death. Wills, still in the plane thanks to his seatbelt, righted the aircraft but then hit the top of a tree and plunged to the ground. It was reported that John T. Betsch, Coleman’s Florida publicity manager and a member of the Jacksonville Negro Welfare League, rushed to the plane and, to calm his nerves, struck a match to light a cigarette, thereby igniting the gasoline fumes surrounding the plane. Wills died inside the burning aircraft. 125 Inevitably, Coleman’s death spurred a number of speculations. According to Freydberg, some African Americans believed that Wills or “white people” had sabotaged Coleman’s plane. It seemed to make sense, given that Wills had succeeded in regaining control over the plane after Coleman fell out. 126 The Chicago Defender, however, silenced most suspicions by reporting that the “expert aviators” who had examined the wreckage believed that a wrench had slid between the control gears and jammed them, causing the accident. According to the experts, the plane 123 Chicago Defender, “Bessie Coleman, Aviatrix, Killed,” May 8, 1926; Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 108- 109. 124 Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 94; Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 108-9. 125 Evening Independent, “Woman Falls 2,000 Feet in Air Smash,” April 30, 1926; Lewiston Daily, “Only Negro Woman Aviator is Killed in Practice Flight,” May 1, 1926; Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 95; Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 110. 126 Freydberg, Bessie Coleman, 95-6; Rich, Queen Bess Daredevil Aviator, 117. 153 was an “old-fashioned army type,” and they concluded that the accident would not have happened in a modern plane with protected gears. 127 Coleman’s death was mourned by many, and both black and white admirers attended her three memorial services. The first was held on May 2, 1926, in Jacksonville, Florida, followed shortly by a service in Orlando, Florida, and a last one in Chicago. Coleman was buried in the Lincoln Cemetery on Blue Island, Illinois, where several famous African Americans such as Robert Abbott (1870-1940), blues musician Big Bill Broonzy (1898-1958) and jazz pianist and singer Lil Harding Armstrong (1898-1971) would later be laid to rest. Although Coleman’s career was short, her tragic death made her an inspiring symbol – even a martyr, some would argue – of African American pursuits in the field of aviation. In the first decades after her death, the Chicago Defender’s readers were frequently reminded of Coleman’s courageous exploits and encouraged to follow her example. Although Coleman had begun to pave the way for the acceptance of African Americans in aviation, those who tried to gain a foothold were still discouraged because of the discrimination they faced from the white aviation industry. “Disaster seems to attend all our efforts in this field,” a reporter in the Chicago Defender noted: ...partly because of a lack of interest on our part, and partly because of insufficient preparation on the part of those who are trying. We are barred from schools of aviation; the government shuts the doors in our faces, and lack of funds makes it impossible for us to procure first class equipment for our efforts in aviation. 128 It soon became clear that Coleman’s accomplishments were exceptional and not something many black Americans at the time would be able to repeat. The rallying notion of 127 Chicago Defender, “Bessie Coleman, Aviatrix, Killed,” May 8, 1926. 128 Chicago Defender, “Bessie Coleman,” May 14, 1927. 154 ‘racial uplift’ as promoted by Coleman, “illustrates the problematic aspect of identifying a standpoint that encompasses all black women,” or all black Americans, Higginbotham explained. Also, the notions that black Americans had to catch up with the white and learn how to fly to enter white, ‘mainstream’ society equated normality with conformity to white middle-class standards and values. Racial uplift certainly stood in sharp contrast “with daily practices and aesthetic tastes of many poor, uneducated, and “unassimilated” black men and women dispersed throughout the rural South or newly huddled in urban centres.” 129 William Powell (1897-1942) was among the first African Americans to earn a pilot license following Coleman’s death. After being turned away from flight schools in Chicago, he earned his permit at Warren College of Aeronautics in Los Angeles in 1928. Powell went on to establish a Bessie Coleman Aero Club and the first aviation school for African Americans. 130 The first African American woman to follow in Coleman’s footsteps was Willa Brown (1906- 1992), who earned her pilot license in 1937 and would, in later years, become greatly involved in the advancement of aviation for African Americans. 131 Brown was able to set up a flying school in Chicago, but as flight training remained a segregated activity, the school’s flying field had to be created outside the city limits. In the military, African Americans continued to face discrimination and prejudice; they were barred from flight training in the United States until World War II, when the first black air corps, the Tuskegee Airmen, was established, with Coleman as their inspirational muse. 132 Today, the Bessie Coleman Foundation in Washington, 129 Higginbotham, “African-American Women's History and the Metalanguage of Race,” 271. The double quotation marks around unassimilated are the author’s. 130 Bix, “Bessie Coleman Race and Gender Realities Behind Aviation Dreams,”16. 131 See Fredyberg, “Willa Brown (1906-1992), Aviator, Activist, Educator,” in Notable Black American Women, ed.: Jessie Carney Smith and Shirelle Phelps (Book II, Detroit, Michigan: Gale Research Inc., 1996). 132 Bix, “Bessie Coleman Race and Gender Realities Behind Aviation Dreams,”16. http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=ntt_athr_dp_sr_2?_encoding=UTF8&sort=relevancerank&search-alias=books&field-author=Shirelle%20Phelps 155 D.C., encourages African American women to take up flying and provides a strong base of support for female African American aviators. 133 Conclusion Race, gender and class struggles clearly permeated Bessie Coleman’s life and career path in aviation. What Vertinsky and Captain note in the context of black female athletes, that they “are racial and gendered and classed, with each and/or all of these categories taking on a different importance in certain moments and particular contexts,” 134 is equally true about Coleman’s career as a black female aviator. The ways in which Coleman experienced the American ‘era of aviation’ differed significantly from those of white female aviators both in the ways they promoted themselves and in the manner in which they were promoted by media. Although the aviation industry opened up to increased female membership in the 1920s, most women who were able to join were either affluent or had middle-class backgrounds. None of these advantages applied to Coleman, though she nevertheless gained a pilot license and rivaled her white female counterparts in flying competence. To gain credibility as a black aviator in a white industry and to simultaneously earn respect from the African American aviation community, Coleman had to navigate between what she considered to be her African American roots and the opportunities the white American and European aviation industry offered her. She made sure she organized her shows to appeal to both black and white audiences, and she only signed contracts with white managers if black people were also allowed to attend the show. Not surprisingly, Coleman frequently encountered 133 See The Bessie Coleman Foundation website: http://www.wearethelegacy.com/ [Accessed April 3, 2010]. Currently the foundation seems the use its facebook instead of its website: https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bessie- Coleman-Foundation/113677978696209 [accessed June 30, 2013]. 134 Vertinksy and Captain, “More Myth than History,” 535. Italics are original. http://www.wearethelegacy.com/ https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bessie-Coleman-Foundation/113677978696209 https://www.facebook.com/pages/Bessie-Coleman-Foundation/113677978696209 156 difficulties in this navigation exercise and was strongly criticized, even by black newspapers, when she broke contracts with managers or did not follow up on the arrangements that had been made for her. Her unique position as a black woman successful in a white field of endeavour gave her the ability to see ‘both sides’ and to negotiate opportunities accordingly. This very position was, of course, also what made her career difficult and unstable at times. Coleman’s excellent networking skills, her lighter skin colour, and attractive appearance gave her, at least to some degree, the social mobility most women of her background would not have been able to acquire. Born in poor circumstances, Coleman became a popular heroine and was able to secure the funds necessary to not only sustain her career as aviator, but also to support her desire to join the more affluent classes. 135 Unlike Earhart, who was supported in most of her endeavours by her manager and husband George Palmer Putnam, Coleman was in many ways a ‘self-made woman.’ Supported by the desire of black newspapers – the Chicago Defender in particular – to increase their readership and revenues, her timely appearance after the racial violence in Tulsa helped her become a ‘missionary’ and an advocate of black progress in aviation. Moreover, her entrepreneurial skills and her ability to turn her aviation shows into a popular form of entertainment for all audiences made her longed-for career as an aviator possible. 135 Illustrative is that in 1925 Coleman purchased a house at the Grand Boulevard in Chicago: “To give it real class,” the Baltimore Afro-American reported, “Miss Bessie Coleman, the bird woman, and Jack Johnson, the fighter, also purchased homes there [at the Grand Boulevard].” See Baltimore Afro-American, “Grand Boulevard Replaces State St,” February 7, 1925; New York Amsterdam News, “Grand Boulevard in Chicago Is a World Famous Stroll,” March 4, 1925. 157 Chapter VI: Conclusion Let me return, in concluding, to my view that any society that hopes to be imperishable must carve out for itself a piece of space and a period of time in which it can look honestly at itself. The honesty is not that of the scientist, who exchanges honesty of his ego for the objectivity of his gaze. It is, rather, akin to the supreme honesty of the creative artist who, in his presentations of the stage, in the book, on canvas, in marble, in music, or in towers and houses, reserves to himself the privilege of seeing straight what all cultures build crooked. Victor Turner, “Liminality and the Performative Genre,” 1984, 40. 1 In this work, I have tried to reflect Turner’s message that performance, and aerial performances of modernity in particular, provide useful windows into a society’s cultural values and beliefs, especially where conceptions of gender, race, class, and sexuality are concerned. I have then argued that aerial performers like Charmion, Barbette, and Bessie Coleman were instrumental in questioning and reshaping traditional beliefs regarding the gendered, racialized, classed, and sexualized body-in-motion between 1880 and 1930. Indeed, while the entertainment offered in circuses, vaudeville theatres, and local fairs was often associated with what Bakhtin would call “unofficial culture,” the marginal, or the low, 2 spectacular and provocative performances by aerialists like Charmion, Coleman, and Barbette simultaneously reflected and challenged anxieties about the physical abilities and appearance of the female and the male body. What made aerial bodies stand out from the large group of performers between 1880 and 1930 was their combination of risk, gender ambiguity/transgression, and spectacular aerial action that seemingly lifted categories of identity, at least temporarily. Indeed, as Tait and Stoddart have noted repeatedly, bodies that flew in the fantastic spaces of theater, circus, and open-air 1 Victor Turner, “Liminality and the Performative Genre,’ in Rite, Drama, Festival, Spectacle/ Rehearsals Toward a Theory of Cultural Performance, ed. John J. MacAloon (Institute for the Study of Human Issues, Inc: Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, 1984), 40. 2 Peter Stallybrass, and Allon White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1986), 22-23. 158 fairs rendered categories of race, gender, and sexuality ambiguous. Many female trapeze flyers were as muscular as their male counterparts and executed the same aerial routines, blurring or shifting the boundaries between traditional notions of masculinity and femininity. Specifically, trapeze acrobats like Charmion combined feminine sexuality with male muscularity, stimulating questions about the female body’s ‘appropriate’ physical appearance and capabilities. Similarly, aviators like Coleman wore male flying attire, and their leather flying caps and goggles made it difficult, if not impossible, to distinguish their gendered and racial identities. Likewise, the distance between high-flying aerialists and audiences below added to the difficulty in distinguishing gender and race, while adding to the spectacular nature of their performances, which seemed to defy laws of gravity. The carnivalesque or liminal spaces of entertainment venues offered possibilities to aerialists for stretching the boundaries of what was deemed possible in terms of the physical capabilities of the human body. However, aerialists also met with resistance because their performances and bodies simultaneously evoked admiration, desire, and repulsion from spectators, managers, and show critics. On the one hand, performers like Charmion and Coleman were praised as ambitious and ‘perfect’ examples of what women their age should strive for; on the other hand, their ambition and proficiency in their fields of endeavour were also viewed as threatening signs of unruliness, transgression, and even the grotesque. Indeed, referring back to Russo, female acrobats and stunt fliers in modernity could be understood as models of female exceptionalism, but also as the “double, dwarfed, distorted (stunted) creatures of the sideshow 159 which stand in as the representatives of a well-known cultural representation of the female body as monstrous and lacking …” 3 Associations with the grotesque were not tied solely to the aerialist’s status of exceptionality, but also to the ways in which the aerial body articulated gender, or the lack thereof. This became particularly apparent in my chapter about Barbette, who complicated gender categories through his combination of female impersonation and aerial action. Moreover, literary critics at his time linked his aerial body with androgyny, supporting the notion that the gender of the aerial body becomes ambiguous while in flight. Man Ray’s images of Barbette in the process of gender transformation, as well as Cocteau’s 1926 essay, certainly emphasized the artist’s gender-ambiguous and grotesque body. One can see, however, as I point out in my discussion about the grotesque body and agency in Chapter II, how the grotesque can be interpreted in different ways. According to Bakhtin, the grotesque was entirely positive, and suggested possibilities outside of the ‘rigid’ structure of everyday life. The grotesque body with all its “protuberances and offshoots” 4 was a body in the process of becoming, a body that fostered possibilities. In other words, the marginal body -like the aerial body- was capable of resisting authoritative discourses in the liminal/carnivalesque spaces in which it operated, unlike the “finished” bourgeois body. 5 In my case studies I have shown that aerial performers operating in liminal spaces fostered possibilities in terms of human/women’s agency. Charmion’s performances encouraged the agency of women through bodily reform, including building muscles, following a healthy diet, and exercising on a regular basis. She also suggested the rejection of corsets and other 3 Mary Russo, The Female Grotesque. Risk, Excess and Modernity (New York and London: Routledge, 1995), 23. 4 Mikail Bakhtin, Rabelais and His World. Trans. Helene Iswolsky (Bloomington, IN: Indiana University Press, 1984 (1968)), 29. 5 Ibid, 28, 29; Stallybrass and White, The Politics and Poetics of Transgression, 22. 160 clothing that would hamper a woman’s free movement, especially when engaging in exercise. Barbette, on the other hand, suggested different gender possibilities and showed the illusion of the existence of a gender binary. Coleman’s performances also suggested new possibilities: in a climate of strict racial segregation, she was able to request that both black and white performers attended her shows and that they entered through the same admission gate. In addition, she combined elements from both white and black culture in her flying shows, suggesting a bridging of racial barriers and possibly encouraging interaction between black and white spectators. As we have seen, aerialists’ agency was limited and confined by the bounds of a patriarchal entertainment industry and, more broadly, by cultural prescriptions regarding the female and male body. Through the examples of Barbette, Coleman, and Charmion, I have shown various ways in which aerialists negotiated these tensions. Of particular importance in this navigation, especially in the cases of Charmion and Barbette, was the developing ‘visual culture’ around the turn of the twentieth century. Visual technologies had a strong impact on performers’ agency because their cinematographic and photographic representations could take on different meaning outside of the context of their performances. Barbette’s provocative portraits taken by Man Ray, for example, contributed to a larger debate about the instability of gender and functioned as a critique of France’s crisis of masculinity in the interwar years. Whether or not Barbette’s effect on French gender politics at the time was deliberate is not clear. Charmion most likely benefitted from her role in Edison’s Trapeze Disrobing Act, though the short film only showed her undressing act and not her muscular display. In other words, the film was simply meant to titillate (mostly male) audiences, and not so much to show Charmion’s physical abilities, therefore bringing into question how much this specific work contributed to discussions around cultural prescriptions of the female body. 161 Aerial performers, like those in my study, had to “embrace a condition of complete spectacularization.” 6 For example, not only were trapeze performers’ bodies in tight costumes visible from all angles to their audiences, aerialists images were also visible on (theater) billboards, postcards, magazines, and commercial merchandise. Moreover, their names and acts were described and spectacularized in the amusement sections of newspapers and magazines. The talent of the female performer then, as Brown notes, was her agile ability to navigate between and manipulate discursive terrains. Engaged in multiple directional strategies of perception … the … female flâneur occupied a privileged vantage point from which to view the world. As she is gazed upon, she also gazes back, and it is her body that questions. 7 The view of the female performer as flâneur or flâneuse, as I have also pointed out in my introduction, echoes the idea of a free, autonomous and independent body. The aerial bodies I have addressed in my work especially evoked a sense of freedom that was unparalleled by most other performing bodies at the time. In the case of trapeze artists for example, Tait notes that “[f]lying out from the trapeze and falling through space demonstrated a spectacle of unrestricted if unattainable physical freedom. Mastery over the aerial trick created a realm of performative freedoms which somersaulted meanings attached to physical bodies into fantasy.” 8 The seemingly unlimited freedom aerialists embodied certainly reflected modern beliefs in technological progress and the infinite capacities of the (male) body. According to Rabinbach, scientists at the turn of the twentieth century believed that “[t]he human body and the industrial machine were both motors that converged energy into mechanical work. The automata no longer 6 Jayna Brown, Babylon Girls: Black Women Performers and the Shaping of the Modern (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, 2008), 17. It needs to be noted that Brown makes this claim for Black women in particular, but I think this could also be said about white performers, especially white female performers around the turn of the twentieth century. 7 Ibid. 8 Peta Tait, “Feminine Free Fall: A Fantasy of Freedom,” Theatre Journal 48 (1) (1996): 33. 162 had to be denied a soul – all of nature exhibited the same protean qualities as the machine.” 9 The fascination with ‘the body as machine,’ and the mechanisms of its movements contributed to the development of cinematography, which, as we have seen, helped popularize and spread (moving) images of so-called ‘perfect bodies’ like Charmion and Eugen Sandow. These performers, in their claims about the benefits of physical culture in pursuit of healthy life-styles, encouraged the belief that ‘every body’ could be molded and shaped like theirs as long as a strict regime of dieting and training was followed. This fascination with muscularity, as Budd has noted, was at the same time a reaction against the widespread industrialization or ‘machine age’ in which the human body seemed to have lost its significance and agency. 10 While muscular women like Charmion and Katie Sandwina were considered ‘New’ or ‘Modern,’ also other types of femininities (as well as masculinities) became popular and were emblematic of shifting perceptions about the gendered as well as racialized body. Indeed, modernity came to mean muscles, but also slenderness. Barbette, along with other popular performers like the tall and slim dancer, Ida Rubinstein, for example, 11 were often associated with a sexually provocative androgyny, seemingly freed from markers of gender. In a similar vein, the 1920s’ female flapper who blended typical feminine and masculine categories by bobbing her hair, smoking cigars and wearing short skirts, broke with conventional norms that stipulated appropriate behaviour for women. 9 Anson Rabinbach, The Human Motor. Energy, Fatigue, and the Origins of Modernity (Berkeley, Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1990), 2. 10 Michael Anton Budd, The Sculpture Machine. Physical Culture and Body Politics in the Age of Empire (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Macmillan Press LTD, 1997), 75. 11 See Patricia Vertinsky, “Ida Rubinstein: Dancing Decadence and the ‘Art of the Beautiful Pose,’ ” Nashim: A Journal of Jewish Women's Studies & Gender Issues (forthcoming). 163 The “flying flapper,” as Walker labels female aviation pioneers of the 1920s, 12 also represented an adventurous and independent New Woman. Aviators like Bessie Coleman and Amelia Earhart for example, clearly “cross[ed] back and forth over traditional gender boundaries with both [their] actions and [their] dress.” 13 Earhart’s bobbed hair, her slender stature in combination with leather flying cap, goggles, jacket and breeches rendered her female identity ambiguous. When she did not fly, however, she emphasized her femininity by wearing pearls, skirts and dresses. “Neither tomboy nor butch, neither masculinized nor sexualized,” Herrmann notes, Earhart represented yet another type of feminine identity in the 1920s. 14 Similar arguments can be made for Coleman; she dressed in a rather masculine way during her flying shows, though seemed to have capitalized on her beautiful, feminine appearance when she was not flying. Not only did she cross traditional gender boundaries, but also racial ones by taking up aviation and by networking with white men in this pursuit. Moreover, the airplane, often associated with unlimited progress and simultaneously perceived as a tool for mass destruction, fuelled both optimism and fears among black individuals in the 1920s. Coleman felt she had to encourage Black Americans to take part in the burgeoning field of aviation in order to alleviate fears of oppression and keep up with technological developments. It was believed that the airplane, quite literally, could contribute to racial ‘uplift.’ At the heart of modernity, as I have shown in this study, was the body in motion as well shifting definitions of ‘mobility’ more generally. In many respects, technologies like cinematography, trapeze acrobatics and airplane shows, changed the perceived dimensions of 12 Mike Walker, Powder Puff Derby: Petticoat Pilots and Flying Flappers (Chichester: Wiley, 2003). 13 Susan Ware, Still Missing. Amelia Earhart and the Search for Modern Feminism (New York: W.W. Norton & Company, 1993), 167. 14 Anne Herrmann, “On Amelia Earhart” The Aviatrix as American Dandy,” Michigan Quarterly Review 39 (1) (2000): 104. 164 time and space, as well as distance and speed. 15 Aerialists’ interactions with these technologies also helped change perceptions of the (physical) possibilities as well as limitations of the human body. On the one hand, aerialists symbolized progress and the infinite physical capacities of the body, while on the other hand, the frequent airplane and trapeze accidents, as well as career- ending injuries were stark reminders of the human body’s physical limits. Likewise, while individuals like Charmion, Barbette and Coleman encouraged progressive ideas about gender, race, and sexuality through provocative and daring aerial action, they must be seen within the discourses and power dynamics of the respective frameworks/contexts in which they operated. While technologies such as trains, ships, automobiles and airplanes quite obviously contributed to many individuals’ mobility as travelers, in the case of the aerialists in my study, they also seem to have contributed to social mobility. Aviators like Coleman quite literally flew their way into spaces women had not occupied before and, in many respects, also paved the way for other women to follow similar paths or at least to be inspired. Performers like Charmion encouraged women to engage in physical activity, to venture out from their private homes into the public, and to wear clothes that would facilitate their free movement. Moreover, on an individual level, Charmion, Coleman and Barbette’s popularity gave them the necessary financial and social means to join the more affluent classes. Aerialists like Charmion, Coleman and Barbette certainly symbolized many of the hopes, fears and contradictions inherent to a society that was forced to revisit traditional ideas about gender, race, class, and sexuality. Their aerial performances signified beliefs about the unlimited physical capacities of the human body and societal progress more generally. They represented a 15 See for example Stephen Kern, The Culture of Time and Space 1880-1918 (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1983). 165 certain optimism about the future and a freedom seemingly unhindered by the weight of the body’s flesh. Clearly, these bodies were ‘modern’ bodies; autonomous, entrepreneurial and eccentric, yet part of an increasingly capitalist industry that framed the extent to which they could disrupt categories of gender, race and sexuality. Contributions Historians like Peta Tait and Helen Stoddart 16 were among the first to address and analyze the aerial body while taking social inequalities pertaining to gender, class and sexuality into account. In my study, I have attempted to build upon their work in order to articulate my own. It was my goal to go beyond the existing literature by extending the notion of flying and explorations of race, gender, and sexuality to different, though overlapping contexts as well as to use theoretical notions borrowed from Bakhtin, Turner and feminist thinkers to guide my analyses. In my work I have started to dissect the notion of aerialism as it pertained to aviation and trapeze acrobatics between 1880 and 1930, and more specifically, as it related to the careers of Charmion, Barbette and Coleman. Throughout their three case studies I have not only addressed specific aspects of trapeze flying and aviation in modernity, but also some of the diverse social (theater, circus, flying meets, the city) and geographical (North American and European) spaces in which aerial performances took place between 1880 and 1930. My study can be viewed as contributing to the developing field of women’s aerial history in multiple and intersecting ways. First, my analyses of the careers of boundary-breaking 16 See Peta Tait, Circus Bodies Cultural Identity in Aerial Performance (London and New York: Routledge, 2005); Helen Stoddart, Rings of Desire: Circus History and Representation (UK: Manchester University Press, 2000). See also Angela Dalle Vache, “Wings of Desire: Aviation, Fashion, Circus Stunts. History and Analysis,” In Diva Defiance and Passion in Early Italian Cinema (Austin: University of Texas Press, 2008); Russo, The Female Grotesque. http://webcat2.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Tait,%20Peta,&searchCode=NAME&searchType=4 http://webcat2.library.ubc.ca/vwebv/search?searchArg=Circus%20bodies&searchCode=TALL&searchType=1 166 pioneers Charmion, Barbette and Coleman can be considered rather ‘unique’ contributions in that they address three pioneering performers whose acts and careers have not received much attention from (feminist) historians in the past. Moreover, in my case studies I bring together traditional research methods by analysing understudied empirical or ‘primary source’ materials found in (digital) archives, and postmodern, feminist theoretical notions as borrowed and modified from Mikail Bakhtin, Victor Turner, Joan Scott, Judith Butler, Susan Leigh Foster, Peta Tait and others. While I have considered theoretical notions like the carnivalesque, the grotesque, liminality, intersectionality and so on, primarily as tools that guided my work and helped me produce in-depth understandings and analyses of the primary as well as secondary sources at hand, I see my work as providing fertile ground for further theorizations of the notion of aerialism in modernity in similar and different contexts. My work certainly opens up avenues for thinking about the meanings of flying and the technology of flying, both in modernity as well as today. Connections between flying and risk, for example, could be elaborated on as well as the meanings of aerialism in other cultural contexts, such as art, novels and poetry. 17 In the next section I address some of the possible avenues for future research extending from my study. Future Research What makes historical research so rich and interesting is that is never finished and, much like the aerial performances in this study, it is always a ‘becoming.’ This is no different in my 17 The changes in perception of speed, distance and mobility brought about by a combination of airplanes and film technology, for example, spurred the coming of age of the male dominated Italian aeropittura movement, which literally meant ‘aeropainting.’ In a similar vein the technology of flight also spurred the aeropoesia movement or ‘aeropoetry,’ celebrating change, optimism, chaos and thus modernity itself. See Willard Bohn, “The Poetics of Flight: Futurist Aeropoesia,” MLN 121 (1) (2006): 207-24. The notion of aerialism can, of course, also be opened up to current-day contexts, like that of freestyle skiing or snowboarding for example. 167 work. Although I have identified and explored a large number of newspaper articles, photographs, and also used secondary sources for context, I have just only begun to uncover details about the careers of Barbette, Coleman, and Charmion. While I have conducted exhaustive searches for each individual, there certainly are numerous gaps remaining for further investigation. Little is known about where exactly both Barbette and Charmion travelled and how they were received in different places. Coleman’s story could be made more complete by a thorough investigation of her time in Europe. Not only would it be useful to know how she was received there, but also where exactly she went, which (flying) activities she engaged in, and who she met. Barbette’s story could be enriched by a more in-depth exploration of his life after his career as aerial performer. There also may be more to be found on Charmion’s work overseas in archives unknown to date. It is my hope that more insight into the activities and experiences of these performers abroad, as well as into their lives after their careers as aerial performers, may shed further light on their personalities, their motives for their engagements in aerial activities, as well as their personal aspirations. Charmion, Barbette, and Coleman are just three of many male and female aerialists who flooded the stages in North America and Europe between 1880 and 1930. One of the reasons that I was able to recover some of the ‘traces’ these performers left was because their acts were particularly novel and provocative and may have received more coverage in newspapers and other media than most other performances at the time. I therefore see my study as a foundation and opportunity for further investigations into ‘women who flew,’ and whose histories (or ‘herstories’) have not received much attention from (feminist) scholars to date. There are several avenues I consider worth pursuing. First, expanding the number of case studies, by either including more trapeze artists and aviators, and/or to include other individuals 168 whose performances had an aerial component, would provide a richer foundation for understanding the place of such aerial performances in social/cultural ideas of this time. First, a study of trapeze artist Lillian Leitzel (18921931), who was a headline performer with the Ringling Brothers and Barnum and Bailey Circus in the 1910s and ’20s and whose career ended in a tragic trapeze accident in 1931, may be particularly interesting. Like Charmion, she was rather ‘petite,’ though incredibly strong. Despite her popularity, physical competence, and marriage to controversial trapeze legend Alfredo Codona (who killed his second wife and committed suicide years after Leitzel’s death), few scholars seem to have taken her remarkable career to heart. The considerable number of sources (though descriptive and fragmentary) available on Leitzel, suggests there may be an interesting story to be told, especially with regard to the ways in which she negotiated gender and femininity as a pioneering trapeze flyer. Another aerialist whose career has been addressed rather fragmentarily in many primary and secondary sources is Hélène Dutrieu (18771961), Belgium’s first female aviator and all- round athlete. Starting her career as a cyclist, participating in both races and bicycle stunts, she later became a motorcycle stunt rider, an automobile racer, and finally, in 1910, a pioneering aviator who beat her male counterparts in several air races. After her athletic career, it is believed she became a journalist and advocate of women in aviation, though very little is known about that particular episode in her life. I am not only interested in Dutrieu because of our shared nationality, but also because sources addressing her career are rather descriptive and have not been able to provide insight into her personality, her motives for participating in several male fields of endeavour, her possible struggles in this field, or her advocacy on behalf of female aviators. In cooperation with my Belgian colleagues at the Katholieke Universiteit Leuven http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Ringling_Brothers_and_Barnum_and_Bailey_Circus 169 (Thomas Ameye and Pascal Delheye), I have already started to uncover her remarkable story, 18 while I have continued to gather information on Dutrieu throughout the course of my doctoral work. I also hope to be able to conduct more transnational research on female aerialists in order to move away from my current Euro-centric approach. For example, my colleague in the Asian Studies Department at UBC, doctoral student Jiyoung Suh, brought the remarkable story of Korean female aviator Park Kyung-won to my attention. 19 Park Kyung-won (19011933), whose tragic life as aviator flying in the 1920s and ’30s under the Japanese flag has been captured in the movie Blue Swallow (2005), continues to spark debate and outrage in Korea today. Her story, alongside that of Bessie Coleman, may serve as an example of the struggles, racism, and politics faced by women who flew across national boundaries in the 1920s. 20 As indicated above, I hope to use my study as the groundwork for future examinations of women who engaged in aerial activities in the past. More specifically, I would like to explore the history of female ski-jumpers and/or swimmers and divers. The recent women’s ski-jumping controversy at the Vancouver 2010 winter Olympics certainly sparked renewed interest in the history of (women’s) skiing and ski-jumping, including the life of British Columbia’s Isabelle Coursier (19061980), who was one of a small number of female ski-jumpers in Canada in her 18 See Ameye, Thomas Bieke Gils and Pascal Delheye, “Belgian Pioneers in Rally Racing and Aerial Sports during the Belle Époque,” The International Journal for the History of Sport 28 (2) (2011): 211-214. 19 Jiyoung Suh has already found and translated fragments from Korean sources and lines from Park Kyung-won’s diary, though we have not (yet) been able to trace her full diary. The heated debates that surrounded Kyung-won’s flying under the Japanese flag in the 1920s were refuelled after Blue Swallow was launched in 2005. According to Jiyoung suh, the young actress who played Park Kyung-won’s role died shortly after the movie’s release, possibly (partially) due to the stress and accusations she encountered for playing the lead role. 20 An interesting example of cross-national research in aviation is Patti Gully’s book Sisters of Heaven: China's Barnstorming Aviatrixes: Modernity, Feminism, and Popular Imagination in Asia and the West, in which she addresses the lives and careers of three female Chinese aviation pioneers in the 1930s and the gender struggles they encountered in a male field of endeavour. Patti Gully, Sisters of Heaven: China's Barnstorming Aviatrixes: Modernity, Feminism, and Popular Imagination in Asia and the West (San Francisco: Long River Press, 2008). 170 time. Vertinsky, Jette, and Hofmann addressed her career briefly in their work on female ski- jumpers in the Vancouver Olympics, though a more detailed analysis of Coursier’s life and career could generate a more profound understanding of the difficulties she and other female ski- jumpers at the time encountered in their desire to ‘ski-fly.’ 21 Female divers and swimmers, who were popular entertainers on vaudeville stages in the 1910s and ’20s, showing off their bodies in tight bathing costumes and engaging in spectacular diving and/or mermaid acts, could, in many respects, also be viewed as flyers. While the flying metaphor quite obviously applies to divers, for female swimmers, an aerial notion may be gleaned from Cixous, Cohen, and Cohen, who in their heavily cited essay “The Laugh of the Medusa,” wrote that “[w]oman is an airborne swimmer, in flight, she does not cling to herself; she is dispersible, prodigious, stunning, desirous and capable of others, of the other woman that she will be, of the other woman she isn’t, of him, of you.” 22 The idea that swimming is like flying, in that it also reflects a sense of freedom and possibilities for women’s agency, may be used productively in studying careers of divers and swimmers, such as, for example, vaudeville performer Annette Kellerman (18861975). While the individuals addressed in this study, and those I hope to address in the future, are individuals of the past, their legacies, both directly and indirectly, affect women’s as well as men’s agency today and continue to spark much interest. In Barbette’s case, for example, a direct connection between past and present can be found in John’s Kelly’s staging of Light Shall Lift Them (ca.1993), in which Kelly dances and shows Barbette’s story as a movie on a big screen 21 See Patricia Vertinsky, Shannon Jette and Annette Hofman, “ ‘Skierinas’ in the Olympics. Gender Justice and Gender Politics at the Local, National and International Level over the Challenge of Women’s Ski Jumping,” Olympika XVIII (2009): 25-56. 22 Hélène Cixous, Keith Cohen and Paula Cohen, “The Laugh of the Medusa,” Signs 1 (4) (1976): 898. 171 behind him. 23 Holden reports in the New York Times that Light Shall Lift Them is a theatrical homage to Barbette and “tells his story as a series of dreamlike tableaux vivants, which blend music, dance and film as they follow Clyde from childhood to a grand, crusty old age.” 24 A rather recent renewal of interest in the remarkably courageous, accomplished, and adventure-seeking female aviators of the 1920s and ’30s is also apparent. Feminist novelists Helen Humpreys and Kerry Greenwood, for example, tell stories about ‘flying flappers’ who outcompeted their male counterparts in record setting attempts and/or stunt flying. Greenwood’s book Flying Too High tells the story of private detective Phryne Fisher, a ‘modern’ woman, thin with bobbed hair, who drives a fast car, wears the latest fashion, has multiple lovers, and excels in stunt flying. Fisher is a stereotypical flapper who outsmarts her male colleagues in solving crimes. 25 Humphrey’s novel Leaving Earth (1998) tells the story of two young women, the famous aviator Grace O’Gorman and the inexperienced Willa Briggs, who attempt to break the world flight-endurance record by circling above Toronto for twenty-five days. In their endeavour, they face fatigue, inclement weather, mechanical problems, and so on. Despite these hardships, however, flying provided them a way to temporarily transcend restrictions imposed on them in everyday life. 26 O’ Gorman’s personality is certainly reminiscent of Amelia Earhart’s, whose life and aviation career has recently been documented in the biographical movie Amelia (2009). The popularity of circuses like Cirque du Soleil, in which trapeze flyers and other aerialists frequently take center stage, also indicates a continued interest and fascination with 23 See for example http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAnNhju6MGw [accessed June 28, 2013]. 24 Stephen Holden, “Review/Performance Art; John Kelly as a Parisian Legend,” New York Times, Nov. 12, 1993, http://www.nytimes.com/1993/11/12/theater/review-performance-art-john-kelly-as-a-parisian-legend.html [accessed June 28, 2013]. 25 Kerry Greenwood, Flying Too High. A Phryne Fisher Mystery (Scottsdale, AZ: Poisoned Penn Press, 1990). 26 Helen Humphreys, Leaving Earth (London: Bloomsburry, 1998). http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=UAnNhju6MGw http://www.nytimes.com/1993/11/12/theater/review-performance-art-john-kelly-as-a-parisian-legend.html 172 aerial bodies. In addition, “after decades of decline,” Duncan Wall explains, “the circus is booming around the world. From Norway to Nepal, new circus companies and schools are springing to life at a rate unprecedented in the modern circus’s nearly 250-year history.” Indeed, in France alone there are currently more than 450 troupes and 600 schools, and about twenty countries, including Belgium, Australia, and Mexico have established professional circus training grounds. 27 The popularity of such routines has also extended beyond the space of the professional circus tent. Circus skills are now often promoted as forms of ‘fun’ recreation and ways to build the body. The Vancouver circus school in Richmond, for example, advertises trapeze, aerial silk, and other acrobatic skills classes for all ages starting from pre-school. There are even specific fitness classes “strategically designed to include circus activities as a fundamental for core stability, overall flexibility, …” 28 The current-day popularity of (queer) aerial performances similar to Barbette’s, the histories of female aviation heroines of the 1920s, together with the renewed interest in (professional and recreational) circus performances, is certainly encouraging of research areas extending from this thesis in which aerial performances and aerial bodies are central. The same questions I have asked here, regarding aerialists of the past, may also be asked in the context of today’s seeming resurgence (or continuation) of interest in aerial activities: What may aerial bodies and activities tell us about current-day perceptions of the (fe)male body and the culture in which it figures? How may they inform us about current-day notions of gender, race, and sexuality, and how may this be different or similar to notions regarding such topics in the past? 27 Duncan Wall, “Moving Beyond the Big Tent,” New York Times March 16, 2013. <http://www.nytimes.com/2013/03/17/opinion/sunday/moving-beyond-the-big-tent.html?pagewanted=all&_r=0> [accessed May 8, 2013]. 28 Vancouver Circus School, Fitness Programs, http://www.vancouvercircusschool.ca/classes/fitness-programs.php [accessed May 8, 2013]. http://www.vancouvercircusschool.ca/classes/fitness-programs.php 173 Also, how do female trapeze artists and aviators today negotiate cultural prescriptions regarding the body and its abilities, and how are their experiences different or similar from aerialists of the past? While I will leave the answers to these questions ‘up in the air,’ at least for now, what is certain is that aerial performances of the past and present have the capacity to encourage reflection about taken-for-granted notions regarding the gendered/racialized/classed/sexualized body and inform us about the (in)stability of such notions. My study has raised more questions than it has answered, indicating much research remains to be undertaken in the rich arena of women’s aerial history. I hope that my study will stimulate reflection upon the pioneering work of women who flew between 1880 and 1930, as well as those who fly today. Moreover, it is my hope that my work provides a thought-provoking window onto the history of aerial performance and will inspire at least some individuals with a renewed sense of bodily agency. 29 After all, “[women] who fly escape the dangers of domination, the tyrannical powers of orthodoxy. Flight is also a positive course, a soaring; it traces the path of desire.” 30 29 Susan Leigh Foster, Choreographing History. Bloomington (Indiana: Indiana University Press, 1995), 12. 30 Joan Wallach Scott, “Feminism’s History,” Jo rna of Women’s Histor , 16 (2) (2004): 26. 174 Bibliography Primary Sources Abel. “New Acts and Show Reviews.” Variety 1919, 18. Baltimore Afro-American. “Bessie Coleman to Star in a Seminole Super Film.” October 20, 1922, 13. _____. “Bird Woman Falls 300 Feet.” February 9, 1923, 1. _____. “Aviatrix Loses Another Manager.” May 2, 1924, A 4. _____. “Bessie Coleman flys in Houston.” July 11, 1925, A4. _____. “Grand Boulevard Replaces State St.” February 7, 1925, B14. _____. “Aviatrix Heads Another Meet.” July 18, 1925, 4. Billboard, “Alferetta Sisters World’s Famous Aerial Queens.” January 27, 1917. Bizet, René. “Le Double Visage. Dans La Loge de Barbette.” Candide (January 14, 1926). Retrieved from Bibliothèque Nationale de France, Paris, 8-RO-16929. 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work_7ialjddep5hfrbkvgztdrbqrxa	----	IKON Casopis za ikonografske studije Journal of lconographic Studies Broj 5 Volume 5 Rijeka 2012. E. E éf VLADAR I IKONOGRAFIJA MOCI SOVEREIGN AND ICONOGRAPHY OF POWER |K0 Nakladnikl Publisher N Filozofski fakultet Sveu<“:ili§ta u Rijeci / CASOPIS ZA IKONOGRAFSKE STUDUE Faculty _of Humanities and Social Sciences, JOURNAL OF ICONOGRAPHIC srumss Univemy °f Rijeka Za nakladnika I For the publisher Predrag Sustar BROJ5/2012. re mca 1 or VOLUME 5 I 2012 Marina Wcelja-Matijaié UDK / UDC 7'04 '55" 1 8453551 Pomoénice urednice I Editorial assistants Iva Brusié, Monika §titié Casopis izla:i jedanput godisnje The juurna] is pub|i5||ed annually Uredniéki odbor i znanslveni savjet éasopisa I Editorial and Advisory Board Barbara Baert (Leuven) . Xavier Ba rral i Altet (Veqezia) Veronika Nela Ga§par (Rijeka) Martin Germ (Ljubljana) Emanuel Hoiko (Rijeka) Bianca Kuehnel (Jerusalem) Heinrich Pfeiffer (Roma) Debra Strickland (Glasgow) Jeziina savjetnica za hrvatski jezik I Lector for Croatian Mirna Vaupotié-Murati Naslovnica I Cover lgor Grietié Graéko oblikovanje i priprema za tisak I Design and text preparation Tamara §panjol, Maja Brajkovié Prijelom i zavrina priprema za tisakl Prepress Tamara §panjol Tisak I Print Denona d.0.o., Zagreb Naklada I Edition 400 primjeraka I copies Adresa uredni§tvaI Address of editor Centar za ikonografske studije, Filozofski fakultet Sveuilista u Rijeci / Center for lconographic Stu— Naslovnica: dies, Faculty of Humanities and Social Sciences, Prikaz kralja na reljefu krstioniékog bazena Sveucilisna avenija 4, 51000 Rijeka, Croatia Splitske katedrale Distribucija I Distribution Coven Brepols Publishers, Begijnhof 67, Representation of a king on a relief on the B-2300 Turnhout, Belgium baptistry font in the Cathedral of Split periodicals@brepols.net _Sad riaj Contents UvodnarijeE.... .. . .. . . . . . . . .. Foreword......... .. .. .. . . . . ....7 Vladimir P. Goss Political iconography: Poster, Icon, Badge. An Introductory Note . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 9 Dino Milinovié Writing History, Shaping Images in Later Roman Empire .. r r . . .. . .. 15 Davide Longhi Regalita di Cristo e regalita di Teodorico nei mosaici di Sant'Ap0l|inareNuov0aRavenna . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 29 Marianne Séghy Vests Regia Indutus: Representations of the Emperor in the Vita Martini . . . . . . . . . . 47 Galit Noga-Banai Between Rome and Jerusalem:The Cross at the Center OfaHerrsch€rbildC0mp05itiOn r . . . . . . . . .... . . . . . . . . . .. 57 Barbara Baert The Antependium of Nedstryn and the Exultation of the Cross ..... . .. . . . . . . . . . .. 65 Igor Fiskovié Come identicare il re sul rilievo della iconograa regale del 11 secolo . . . . . . . . . .. 85 Devis Valenti lliconograa del potere imperiale: Carlo Magno come "Novus Constantinus" . . . . 115 Xavier Barral i Altet Edward rex: il contesto architettonico nella prima scena del ricamo di Bayeux 139 Laura Cleaver Kings Behaving Badly: Images of Rulers in Gerald ofWales'Works onIre|and(C.1200).....,................................... . . . . . . .. . . . . ..15i Marta Serrano Coll Art as a Means of Legitimization in the Kingdom of Aragon: Coronation Problems and Their Artistic Echos During the Reigns oflarnes I and Peter IV . . 4 . 161 Olga Karaskova Saint Bavon au service de l'héritage bourguignon: Philippe le Beau et sa propagande politique. ,. _ . _ _ . .. . . . . .. 173 Branislav Cvetkovié Sovereign Portraits at Mark's Monastery Revisited .. 185 Olga Vassilieva-Codognet The lconography of the Last World Emperor: A Study ofa Late Fifteenth-Century Prophetic Image . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . .. . 199 Gyiirgy E. Sznyi Concepts and Representations of Sovereignty on the English Renaissance Emblematic Stage . . . . . .. .... 207 Steven Thiry From Royal Representation to Scientic Aspiration: Charles V's Colurnnar Device and the Dynamics of Appropriation (i6"‘—1 8*‘ Centuries) ..... . . . . . . . . . . . . 217 Pedro Paulo Palazzo Architecture as Portrait: Exotism and the Royal Character of the Louvre (13804668) . . . . t . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .....235 Q?“ Lex Hermans Dynastic Pride in the FarneseTheatre at Parma . .. . . . . .. . . . . 247 Dubravka Botica iconography of the Holy King Ladislaus in Zagreb Diocese in Late 17“‘ and Early 18"‘ Century: New Reading of the Past in Central European Context . . . . . . . 263 Milan Pelc The Kaiser and His Spouses Marriage and Political Propaganda on the Illustrated Broadsheets During the Reign of Leopold I (1658-1705): Examples from the Valvasor Collection inZagreb............... .... . . . . .... ...... Stefania Biancani Quando Ia regina lascia la corona e vain giardino: alcune osservazioni sul_ritratto della sovrana da Maria Antunietta ai Windsor e su|l‘eredita diEIisabethVigéeLeBrun 281 Robert Simonisek The Monarchic Cult of the Emperor Franz Joseph I in the Slovenjan ArtandLiterature..... . . . . _ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. .... ..293 Marko Spikié Titus Novus: Emperor Francis I's iconography of Power and Its Reception in Croatia and Dalmatia . . . . . . . . . . . , . . . . . .. 305 Prilozi - Prikazi — Dodabakl Contributions — Reviews — Appendix Maja Cepetié - Danko Dujmovié St Peter at Novo Mesto Zelinskoz New iconography for Claiming Po|iticalContinuity . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 4 . . . . . ..323 Isabel Escandell Proust The Illuminated Codex Book of Franchises and Privileges of the Kingdom of Majorca (Arxiu del Regne de Mallorca, cod.1): Portraits ofthe King under His Subjects'Gaze . 331 Iva Brusié Antonio Wnciguerra: The Ideological Initiator ofthe Venetian Appearance ofthe City of Krk . . . . . . . . _ . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 345 Péter Bokody Secularization and ReaIisticTurn in Italy: Antonio Fissiraga's Funerary Monument in Lodi . . .. . . . . . . .. .. ........ .. 351 Ivana Podnar — Marina Vicelja Representation of Sovereign and Public Space in Zagreb . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . ,4 363 Lisa Rafanelli mVNoIimerangere:AnInquiryintothevisualCulture . . 373 Marina Vicelja DanseMacabre-|tsManifo|d Facets . 375 Peti medunarodni znanstveni skup ikonografskih studija I Fih International Conference of lconographic Studies . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. 377 Uputeautorima . 380 GuidelinesforAuthors.... .. _ .. .. __ .. .........,.381 Pedro Paulo Palazzo _ Architecture as Portrait Exotism and the Royal Character of the Louvre,1 380-1 681 i UDK: 72.044(44O ParizJ"'|4/16" Pedro Paulo Palazzo University of arasilia, Brazil palaZZO@unb.br Thearchitectural evolution of the Louvre between the 15"‘ and 11* century is characterized by systematic attempts to distin- - guish the building within the broader context of French styles. In the 15* and early 15'" century, this IS achieved by pr0duc— ing grander and more elaborate versions of the C0nterrlp0raI')QFrench architectural solutions. From the late 16'" century on, the affectation of an ltalian rnanner becomes the rnost signicant way of achieving this distinction. This article reviews and examines the interventions On the Luuvre under Charles V, Francis l, and Henry l\/, then stresses the importance of resorting ‘ to an Italian style in the pr0CesS Ofbuildlng Louis XlV's Eastfacacle. its famous culcnnade, before coming to be seen as a hall- mark Of French (lassicism, Owes its existence to the intent of differentiating the King's palace from'the prevalent standards of French aristocratic architecture, thus marking the monarch's uniqueness. Keywords: Louvre, l.auis xiv, architectural iconography, strangemaking iconographic studies demand a methodological approach that is particularly open to social and political history. Architectural iC0rl0graphy, unlike its counterpart in painting, is often taken for granted as a result of the interplay between the spirit of the age and the artist's autonomy. Even when politics comes into play, as in the case of a rclyal palace, the resulting architectural form tends to be ascribed not so much to the specic requirements of a particular imagery, but rather to a broadly outlined artistic-historical context. A precise de- nition of this political iconography in architecture nevertheless does much to supplement the usually specic pinpointing of motifs and inuences. The architectural history ofthe Louvre is one such case where built form is closely related to the political image of the French sovereign as it evolved through time. The royal architecture of the Louvre, in Renaissance and Classical France, demonstrates a steady transformation in architectural form and a remarkable ccntinu— ity in political intent ~ yet one can see that architectural form has been through the time determined by the political iconography of the ruling king. In fact, these shifting architectural expressions, from charles V's semi— residential fortress to the desertion ofthe Louvre by Louis XIV in favor ofVersailles, form a revealing succession of portraits of royal patronage that are sharply distinct from the general architectural tendencies oftheir times. In this case, the long—term perspective is particularly effective to uncover the continuing political intents un- derlying changing architectural motifsr A common trait of royal patronage in France from the late 15"‘ to the mid-17'“ century is its xenophilia. FOreign artists - Flemish and Italian for the most part A were invited to the court, and native artists affected foreign stylisms. This fact has been, if not sufciently proved. at least widely deplored by French writers and architects since the 16"’ century.‘ Political importance of this taste for the exotic, and the meanings that can be attributed to the resulting formal repertoires, have not, however, been subject to much scrutiny from the disciplinary standpoint of architectural history. Z35 IKON, 5-2012 We argue here that this "xenomania" has been the common denominator not only of French cultural poli- tics, but also of architectural images at the Louvre as diverse as the 16"‘-century west wing and the 17‘"—century colonnade. The importance of this denominator can be traced to Wktor Shklovsky's stmngemaking.Z1'his concept attempts to dene the formal character of a work of art in opposition to that of trivial forms, echoing Aristotle's denition of poetic language, by the intrinsic differences in formal structures of the arbobject and the trivial- object rather than by today's nihilistic notion that an artwork is that which is granted such a status by being displayed in a gallery or museum. Likewise, I intend to show that the royal character of the Louvre, as it was being redesigned for such purpose from the 15"‘ up to the 17"‘ century, was achieved not by the mere presence ofthe King, but by the conscious handling of architect ural devices at each step in the process. The aspect of these devices is manifold and encountered several changes during the period in question, yet they all displayed the king’s intention or making an exceptional display of architecture. whatever the King built at the Louvre was thus meant to set him apart from the rest of the nobility.This could be achieved by either besting the aristocracy's achievemens - as in Charles V's or Francis l's grander versions of common castles - or by introducing radical dierences from what the nobility could or would build — as in Henry ]l’s and Louis XlV's ltalianizing drives. From the late Middle Ages to the Renaissance r The medieval Louvre The beginnings of the Louvre under Philippe-Auguste and Saint Louis were modest, and not particularly distinct from the average castle—building of the time. Starting with Charles V's monumental staircase, built by Raymond du Temple from 1330 on (g. 1), though, what was to be witnessed at the Louvre was a Continuum of image~driven interventions. Aside from their utilitarian functions, all transformations at the Louvre since that time sought primarily to represent the King in his Parisian residence. Francis I and Henry ll It is not known whether the Louvre's staircase was the earliest of its kind; the type was frequent in late Medieval architecture, particularly in smaller urban sites. For our purposes, though, the origin ofthe model is less signicant than its later fortune. indeed, the construction of staircases as free-standing accretions to the built fabric was on the wane in the 16th century. Yet, what was already such an archaic motif by 1515, when Francis l began his addition to the chateau of Blois (g. 2), still gured prominently on this project, alongside the dernier cri in Renaissance architecture, such as ltalianate loggias and Flemish dormer windows. Even though Francis l did not spend much of his time in Paris in the early part of his reign, or perhaps precisely because ofthat, he seemed to attempt a transfer of the royal imagery from the Louvre's spiral staircase to the Blois. At this point the Louvre was certainly we|l—known as a seat ofthe French royalty, having been deemed signicant enough to be pictured in the Limbciurg Brothers‘ Ties riches heures du duc de Berry several decades before. lt was of course Francis I himself who was responsible for tearing down Raymond du Temple’: staircase together with its keep, in the interest of transforming the Louvre from a fortied castle into a modern-styled residential palace. The remodeling, entrusted to the abbot and gentleman Pierre Lescot, was realized over sev- eral years, between 1527 and 1542 (g. 3), has stood since the nineteenth century as the“agship monument"of French Renaissance architecture for a variety of reasons, only a few of which have actually to do with the archi— tectural style of the building? The leading among the reasons is the anecdote, widespread in the 19“ century nationalist discourse, according to which Lescot's design was preferred to a proposal by the Italian Sebastiano Serlio, the King's favorite architect at the time.‘ The Lescot's wing at the Louvre has been often used as a yardstick against other parts of the palace in order to ascertain their respective degree of 'Frenchness," the relationship of the architectural orders to the interior Z36 ' Palazzo, Architecture as Portrait: Exorism oi-id the Royal chomcrerofthe Louvre v levels being the single most—recalled criterion.Yet it is useful to distinguish between the political intent and the aesthetic resources employed to that end. The architectural history of Europe is rife with buildings designed "in the style of such—and—such" that bear little resemblance to their purported eXOtiC models; Louis XlV's Chinese- themed Porcelain rianon in Versailles (designed by Louis Le Vau, 16684 672) was but one of these.’ Francis l's Louvre should thus be put in perspective with the other building projects the King undertook since his release from captivity in Spain, in I526, especially with the Castle of Madrid, a telling name, the design of which he entrusted to an Italian architect. Both enterprises, the construction exnihilo of the Castle of Madrid _ ' in 1528 and the remodeling of the Louvre strated in 1527, are examples that the King wished to make French royal architecture a match not only to the obvious models of the contemporary Italian palazzi, but also to those of his most prominent competitor for continental hegemony, Charles V of Habsburg. Even though the opposition between France and Italy has long been a stock theme in art history and criticism, Spain was a more likely rival for the French court in the 16"‘ and early 17"‘ century, because ofthe enormous expanses of land and population ruled by the Hapsburgs. Evidence ofthis cultural rivalry is expressed in the early 17*“ century by Henry IV as he gloats about the Louvre Grande GaIerie's size (O the Spanish ambassador: "le roi t arpenter ses galeries 51 don Pé— dre, ambassadeur d’Espagne, en lui demandant si son maitre avait a l'Escurial des promenades de cette longueur avec un Paris au bout.“‘The recurrence of Spanish literary themes adapted into French drama, as in Corneille's Le Cid and MoIiere's Dom Juan to name only a few, further strengthens this point, _ » Henry IV The Grands Galerie (g. 4), built under Henry IV and mostly reconstructed in 3 different design under Nae ‘ , poléon III, was, in nineteenth—century French criticism, among the favorite antitheses to Francis |'s Louvre. The Ga|erie's original design by Jacques ll Anclrcluet du Cerceau, featuring colossal pilasters and windows set into the entablature, was then ascribed to an Italian Mannerist corruption of taste opposed to the “rationalism” of the su— perimposed orders and continuous trabeation of Lescclt‘s agade.’ Nowadays, on the other hand, the Grcmde cor erie's colossal order is seen as unmistakably representative of a French style — not the least because of its accent of the vertical axes, as opposed to a balance of verticals and horizontals identied with the Italian manner. A facile conclusion to this tale could be that earlier commentators were supercial and missed the differ ences between French and Italian uses of the giant order in the 16°" century. Yet, this leads to a further prob~ lem: if 19"‘ century critics missed these differences, would 16°‘ century observers be aware of them? French architecture certainly did not stop evolving after the time of Francis I, and while distinctly autochthonous ways of handling the classical elements are present, there was, nevertheless, a constant parallel between the emergence of new motifs or usages in Italy and their adoption, albeit transformed, in France. Again, this is not to deny French architecture any sort of autonomy, but rather to stress the importance of these exchanges as part of the cultural politics of the time. Still, regarding the Grande Galerie, it is signicant to note the striking differences to the contemporary designs for two of Henry lV's major Parisian building projects, the continuous facade ofthe Place Roycile (now Place des Vosges, g. 5) and that of the Place Duuphine. The use of brickwork with stone quoins, as well as small orders, in these two ensembles, recall a long tradition of French facades, exemplied in Louis Xll's chateau at Blois and in Henry ll's Fontainebleau, leaving to the King's new palace the privilege of displaying the ultimate novelty, namely, colossal orders derived from Italian Mannerism. The Louvre nrf Louis XIV Precedents and context The main thrust of development at the Louvre was set by Henry lV's grand dessein. Louis Xlll's extensive but unoriginal interventions at the Louvre are admittedly diicult to classify in terms of the political implications Z37 IKON, 5-10l1 - of architectural style. The premier architecte du roijacques Lemercier provided a self-effacing design for achieving Henry lv's idea ofa much larger courtyard at the Louvre, which included modest inventions dwarfed by his repeti— tion of Lescot's facade motifs into the enlargement. This, of course, was an aesthetic statement in its own right. The Burbon dynasty was still in its infancy, and continuing the work ofVa|ois kings Francis l and Henry ll was a means of placing Louis Xlll in the long line ofFrench kingsThis matter was later to be a major preoccupation also for Louis XIV, The most distinctive monuments built during that time are indeed to be seen in Jesuit church architecture rather than in the King's palace, perhaps owing to the monarch's relative weakness compared to the afrmation Of his eminence grise, the Cardinal Richelieu. There, BS well as in the Queen Mother's Chdreau 0fLuxEmb0ul’g - which was an evident Parisian interpretation of Palazzo Pitti » and in the interior decoration at the Louvre, Italian inuence was pervasive although easily explained by the Tuscan and Roman connections oftheir patrons. Alto— gether, more interesting are the aesthetic controversies regarding the work carried out or planned at the Louvre under Louis XIV, particularly the famous colonnade on the east facade of the palace (g. 6). After the deaths of Richelieu and Louis Xlll in 1643, the Cardinal Mazarin, who was already overseeing the education ofthe heir ap— parent Louis, took a keen interest on the completion of the Louvre. Yet, the renewal ofltalian inuence atthe Louvre cannot be simply ascribed to the peninsular roots ofyoung Louis XlV's regent. First, the decisive push towards atharacteristically ltalian design came several years after the Cardinals passing. second, the taste for ltalianate architecture continued for the remainder of the 17'“ century, even as French culture came to be seen - or at least portrayed in his court ~ as shining over all of Europe rather than receiving inuences from other countries.'A decisive break in the so far uneventful history of the enlargement Of the Louvre Courtyard occurred when, after the death of Lemercier, his successor Louis Le Vau was charged by Mazarin to execute several major projects, including the Louvre and the neighboring college des Quatre-Nations (g. 7). Unlike Lemercier's sielf—effacing solution, all of Le Vau’s designs departed from the scale and style of the Renaissance Louvre with the introduction of Baroque aesthetic then at the height of its prestige in France. As it can be seen in the only extant element of Le Vau’s monumental complex, the College, this aesthetic relied heavily on the Italian Baroque, albeit employing, in secular buildings, architectural motifs and elements which in Rome would have characterized religious buildings: a curved facade composed of several tightly assembled colossal pilasters or halfacolumns rising from a low plinth, topped by a tall dome over a colonnaded drum. Le Vau’s work was, however, put on hold in ‘I664 when Jean—Baptiste Colbert was appointed Surintendunr des barimenrs. This resulted in one of the most famous architectural controversies in history, that of the selection and development of the design for the east front of the Louvre, that unfolded over the next ten years, yet it was ultimately critically received. The rst blow against Le Vau’s design development was the call, in early iso4, for countenproposals among French and, a few months later, ltalian architects. Not that French architects had waited for this moment to make their suggestions; certain Antoine-Léonor Houdin, urchitecte ordinaire des biitiments dll roi, put forward his own design as early as 1651 . Most of these competing solutions from Le Vau’s fellow country- men have not survived, but of the few that did, most, such as Marot's proposal and Mansarrs early designs, were strongly reminiscent ofthe style of the previous reign. Both of Houdins proposals, that of 1661 and another one from the competition, were singular in displaying a strong Palladian avor, misleading Anthony Blunt into mak- ing the assumption that that architect was in fact Italian.’ The French designs may have seemed to colbert to be old rashioned, or not sufciently dignied. Shortly afterthe exposition of these designs, he requested proposals from the foremost Roman architects: Bernini, Pietro da Cortona, Carlo Rainaldi, and Bcirromini, who declined to contribute. In spite of this semblance of competi- tion, however, the French court seemed to have been bound from the start on securing the services of Bernini, and paid hardly any attention to the other architects'drawings. After several months of courier exchanges and a number ofchanges to Bernini's designs, Louis XIV and Colbert resolved to send for the Fope’s most distinguished artist. He arrived in Paris in June, 1665, and remained there until November ofthe same year. 238 Palazzo, Architecture or Portmit Exorism and the Royal Character ofthe Louvre ' During this period, Bernlni overhauled his design in response to Colbert's and the premier commis des ba- tirrlerits, Charles Perrault’s, objections. Ground was broken to carry out Bernini's denitive project (g. B) in early i666, but by the middle of that year construction seemed all but abandoned,Word had it at the time that since r late 1665 a parallel commission, made up of Francois Mansart, Louis Le Vau, and the painter Charles Le Brun, was working discretely under Colbert’s patronage to devise an alternative proposal. in the spring of ‘I667, even as the King readied to wage war in Flanders, the team submitted one or two Q pairs of competing drawings (the number of drawings remains controversial), after which a nal design was ‘z worked out. claude Perrault, appointed to the commission arter Mansart’s death in 1666, was charged with ren— j, ing the design, probably with the help of Francois d'Orbay, Le Vau's chief draftsman. Construction began in ‘I668 and proceeded until funding cut in 1676.The facade itself, mostly complete by 1672 - even though the interiors ' stood unnished for nearly a centuiy afterwards - has remained ever since a point ofaesthetic contention in the - writings of nationalist commentators and more disinterested scholars alike. * Historiography as a source for iconography , This ongoing controversy over the Louvre colonnade's aesthetic merits is, in my view, crucial to the under- standing its original conception. Reading the historiography is certainly no substitute for looking at the Work of ~ art, but the changes of viewpoint that affect artists also have their effect on historians, and each effect can shed light upon the other. To the same extent recent historians have advanced our current knowledge of documentary sources and particularly of the authorship of the Louvre colon nade, they have cast aside the equally important mal:— ter of the Louvre's iconography as a representation of political power in the European context of the 17th century. indeed, recent scholarship has disproportionately emphasized the link between the Louvre colonnade and classical temples. This link arises from a belief that there was a direct architectural expression Of Louis XlV's alter ego as Apollo and thac therefore, antiquarian and mythological analogies would have been paramount in the design of the Louvre facade.” it is preposterous to doubt that the solar imagery did play a major role in the cul- ‘ tural politics ofthis King; nevertheless, architecture is farfrom being as literal an art foras painting, sculpture, or encomiastic poetry. Recent studies have assumed the architectural expression of Louis XlV's palace to be more of a direct take on Apollonian mythology a a Palace of the Sun, as goes the title of Robert Berger's book on the subject — than a result of the interplay between architectural knowledge and political persuasion. In so doing, we have become blind to the much more down-to-earth political motivations that shaped the actual form of the colonnade, and gave it its character. ' The solution to this shortcoming nevertheless can be garnered from looking further back at 19"‘ and even 18" century scholarship. since the second quarter of the 20-“ century, the East facade or the Louvre has been widely acknowledged to be as quintessential an example of French classical architecture as Lescot's earlier west wing." such was not the case in the 19'“ century, however. Commentaries abounded disparaging the East rront of the Louvre as vitiated, facile yet irrational, in other words, a far cry from what at the time was considered good French architecture." Of cou rse, several historical reasons explain this attitude, not the least the rise of a class consciousness among architects that made them ill disposed to accept the achievement of a physician, Claude Perrault, then believed to be the sole author of the colonnade, and the nationalist interest in establishing a characteristic French style, in op— position to the ltalian-inspired Empire style of the early century." A late, but still telling, testimony to this frame of mind is William Henry Ward's The Architecture of the Renaissance irl France, nishing its broad historical swoop with the Empire style, which the author dubs the"end"- and then the ”sir\king"- ofthe Renaissance in France.“ in addition to this, the l9*"—century polemic against the East facade of the Louvre was of course related to an operative interest in dening, not so much what French classicism was like during the grand siecle, but Z39 IKON, 52012 |T.'Y_ " »: _""v"':’»,7‘_V_. 5\.Fl.1";»§;:§;: / $.79 _!/ v; 0! . 4. ' ‘*7’ I1”W. A~V-aw: W---._>‘~*<<wggg-4‘r -\,1 N 3-Z?“ ii Qyf_z , A *¢ .;§',‘-_ '; 2. Chéteau El Bluis, Frands | wing, after 1515 (photo: Christophe Finot.1 ' ,2, 2005) _ \>. ( "5E\— ‘ ‘ ‘ 1. Reocnstruttiun of the Medieval Louvre, from Wallet-|e—Duc's Dictlonnmre 3. Pierre Lescut, west Wing ofthe Louvre courtyard, 154249 4. 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P" 1 _ , . .2 ,1‘?-. ,.!:‘iZ@;.I6'¥ Kg‘ ._~_;W i % '55?‘ J F =-.—§=é:£=t“ 7 ,_,. -13Ti3G=1:11_g~ 1'11 =,__- . = houseandaplaza 5 ». ~ - .:,g_¢1nv&i_;7,@?;.=-""~=.;{':wf'“, an ‘W “F‘F ,Ir-Q; lF%=§“ IL ,-?*=-..= 5I QB’ ; J;Y~*'°”"‘4‘* _g:.'/?.@L'.’4==,-s 5» ' ~ ~ . , Laf!erI,1549, »> " - Bibliotheca Ir» 1. 1;! illii by Antonio RF40963 1 :1 “" *“ ' ' -~ 1'-"1 -.1."-J-'1-_-' 3' ' ‘ 'T Heziana I , 5 u. Comparison between a design iorthe Louvre fagade. amibuted m Louis LeVau,1665 _!_L 4 13 Dcnatnramanve, ‘Ex-11:12:“,-f5§\ Palazzn Caprim, ' ' Rome, engraved 241 IKON, s—2n1 2 really what was to be made of contemporary French architecture. Yet, precisely because critics from that period regarded themselves as partaking in a continuing national architecture stretching back to the early Renaissance, they were uniquely attentive to iconographic and stylistic issues to which later writers paid less attention. Indeed, many prominent writers in the second half of the 19°‘ century agreed that the Louvre colonnade had a distinctly foreign avor. '5 Now, one can react to this statement in different ways. lt can of course be sus» tained that these authors held a view of what constituted French architecture that was deliberately narrow and self-senring, l-lowever, it can also be acknowledged that the Louvre colonnade was at a variance with historically prevalent design solutions. It was arguably the earliest example of the Neoclassical monumentality that was to thrive in 18'“-century France — no wonder major architects and critics of that time, such as Jacques~Francois Blondel, Patte and Soulot, were strongly impressed by its conception.Yet this met alone by no means establishes a French origin for the design. The latter problem is particularly relevant to my point here, as it hints that the Louvre colonnade was con- sidered, in the 19"‘ century, something of a mist among French classical monuments. On the other hand, the 2o"'— century rehabilitation of the East facade drew largely on the laudatory writings of 1 8"‘-century authors such as Patte and Blondel, regarding its simplicity and rationality. Clearly there was something about the Louvre colonnade that attracted Neoclassicists and Modernists which did not'strike a chord with the Romanticse What was it, then? Characterization of the Louvre facade The formal analysis of a classical facade can be divided into two major features: the architectural motifs such as the classical orders, windows and roofs, and the compositional devices such as proportions and distri— butions of the elements. The former were common in Classical Europe, with little variation in their basic forms except for those elements, such as roofs, that depend on local climate.The latter. however, exhibited considerable variation and are key to identifying national styles. For example, colossal orders on pedestals were a staple of the ltalian Baroque, whereas French hotels ofthe 17* century often displayed ground»floor loggias with small orders, and colossal orders, where they exist, usually spring directly from the ground. A close look at the Louvre designs between 1661 and 1668 shows that Le Vau’s projects up until 1664 were thus somewhat French in their reinterpretation of Roman Baroque, even though the insistence on the use ofthe colossal order and the presence of balustrades hinted at an interest in an ltaliamthemed monumentality. The picture changed somewhat after Bernini's contributions in 1664 and 1665, though. Francois Mansart's last designs for the Louvre East front, probably produced in ‘I655, are evidence of the evolution of the French architects’ search for an ltalian expression in the palace facade. one drawing displayed the characteristic French Baroque solution of applying church motifs to secular buildings, already evidenced in Le vau's college des Quatre»Nati0ns. An entry pavilion topped by a tall dome over a circular drum was the centerpiece of a composition donned with tall roofs and colossal pilasters springing from a low plinth. Another drawing restricted the visible roof to the outer reaches of the wings, giving prominence in the inner stretches to a balustrade topped with statuary and coupled pilasters (g. 9). The development of the nal design by the commission in 1666-1667, including Le vau's own c0ntribu— tions, went a step further in the ltalian direction. The use of a colossal order over a gr0und—0or plinth and the total disappearance of the roof bore witness to a concerted move of the design commission towards a clearly ltalianate solution. Also, the nal proportions of the basement and ground oor, as rened by claude Perrault in 1668, were even closerto those of Bernini's fourth project (g. 10) than in the design development phase one or two years before (gs 11), which would have been quite surprising considering charles Perrault‘s invective that Bernini's design did not look like architecture, if this had not been part of the general effort towards an Italian style in the Louvre colonnade. 242 . r Palazzo, Architecture as Portrait: Exorism and rhe Royal Character ofthe Louvre lfthat was the intent, then, why did Bernini get evicted from the design process, even though he was the one most likely to imprint that ltalianate image that was the guiding thread ofthe design process?The objections to Bernini's proposals are mostly known through the memoirs of charles Perrault, who had strong quarrels with \ the ltalian artist, and should thus be taken with a grain of salt. The practical issues with the size and anticipated cost of the project notwithstanding, it is possible that aesthetic considerations did indeed play a role. This does ‘, not, however, implythat the Colbert or Perrault, much less the King, who was reportedly very pleased with aer- J nini's monumentality, rejected ltalian inuence altogether, as early 20"‘ century writers such as Hautecoeur and e Laprade asserted.“ Still, just as French architecture was not the same in the 1 7'” century as it had been in the 16“ so the Italian i architecture that the French had in mind at that time might not have been the state-of—the-art baroque Bernini delivers. French interest in Italy had come a long way since the early Renaissance, but by the mid—i7"' century French architects such as Lemercier and the early LeVau were still largely drawing on the style of Madernds gen- ‘ eration, that is, about half a century before. Conversely, up until the publication of Desgodetz's survey of Roman ruins and of Balthasar de Monconys' description ofthe shrine at Baalbek," knowledge of Antique architecture in France was for the most part medi- ated by ltaly- and by this I mean both published surveys'such as i>a|ladio's, translated by Roland Fréart de Cham— bray in ioso, and High Renaissance interpretations of classical architecture.“This means that French architects of the mid—17"‘ centurywould have had no means of bypassing modern Italy as a mediator in the formation ofa Classical tradition. It is this ltaliammediated Antiquity that began coming to the fore during the design process of the East *1 facade of the Louvre, even as the secondrhand knowledge of Italy characteristic of most French architects of the , grand siécle" came to be supplemented by the rst-hand contributions of Bernini and his fellow countrymen. Whatever opinion the French court held for Bernini's work, for example, was certainly shaped to a great extent by the colonnade on Saint Peter’: Square, which, like most of his Roman facades, displayed a very conservative aes- thetic, to which he reverted in his later designs for the Louvre. Saint Petefs square remained an important theme i in the French picture of monumentality long after Bernini's departure (g. 12). In the nal stages ofdesign development, arter Bernini's grand project was rejected in favor ofa more mod- est intervention, one could still see the movement of the French architects towards the Italian manner, albeit in a compromise of sorts between the monumentality of Bernini's last solution and the regularity of Palladian and Biamantesque precedents. The similarity between the Louvre colonnade and Palazzo caprini is striking indeed (g_13).The facade design that was eventuallycarried out thus distanced itselfas much as possible from standard > French practices, in an attempt to set apart the image ofthe royal palace from the solutions that the nobilitywere able, or willing, to adopt at that time. The process of singling out the royal castle, later the palace, of the Louvre as a unique building among the residences of the French nobility was a continuous movement begun in the late Middle Ages. The Louvre Colon- nade was perhaps the crowning point of this process. ln spite of Bernini's ultimate failure to bring about his de— sign, the unmistakable combination Of ‘l6"'— and 17"'~century Roman compositions in the executed facade bears ' witness to this process. This was, of course, very different from anything the French nobility would have dared to build in a time of rising national pride — and quite intentionally so. The perception of the Louvre colonnade as a "typical'example of French classicism was an image construed long afterthe fact, during the nationalist rampage of the early 20"‘ century. ~ The key point in all these interventions, from charles v to Louis xlv, is that they were in fact never rneant to be ~typicai~. Here, Wktor Shl<lovsky's concept of strangemaking gains a further level of differentiation as one particular work is singled out among the universe of literate Classical architecture, itself in opposition to the vernacu|ar.The successive interventions in the royal palace of the Louvre, from Charles V's residential castle up Z43 IKON, 5—2UI 2 to Louis XlV's monumental front, simply could not have functioned as architectural portraits of the King as an exceptional individual, had they been conceived merely as expressions of contemporary French architecture, that is, as something the remainder ofthe nobility could have made. Furthermore, from Francis l’s 1542 west wing at the Louvre, intended to impress his Spanish counterpart, to Perrault‘s unbuilt wings to be decorated "in the manner ofall the world's nations” (16705), not to mention the famous colonnade once again, foreign inuence was at the crux of these representations as the ultimate strange or exotic character marker that set apart the Louvre from other residences of the nobility. As part of this process, evidently, the very foreign characterthat was intended to single out the King at the Louvre was also used in Louis XlV's remodelings of Versailles and \nCenne5, as well as in Louis XV'S interventions at the Palais-Royal. It then gradually came to be emulated by the nobility, and eventually inuenced the Neoclassical and Empire styles of the late 18"‘ and early 19"‘ centuries, thus giving birth, only several generations later, to the idea of a general French Classicism. That from such an exceptional architectural gesture as the Louvre colonnade should ariSe a general character in French architecture is a functional paradox of classicism that might very well contain a lesson for contemporary architecture as well. 1 2 3 4 4\Ow\lO\U1 0 ii ‘I2 13 14 244 This research was made possible by a scholarship from CAPES (coordenacao de Aperteicoarnento cle Pessoal de Nivel Superior), Brazilian Ministry or Education. A short but telling inventory gures in J.<M. PEROUSE DE MONTCLDS, Larcnirecture d ia rruncaise du milieu du Xl/e a ia n du XVIlIe siecie 2e éd., Paris, 2001, o. 235. cr. v. CHKLOVSKI, L'arr comme procédé, R. GAYRAUD (trans), Paris, 2008. F. BOUDON, Le regard duXIXe siécle sur Ie xvie siecie frangais: ce ql.i'ont vu Ies revues darchirecture, in: Revue de l‘Art, as, 1990. p. 45. L. HAUTECGUR, Histoire du Louvre, ie chdteau, Ie paiais, Ie musée, des origirres o riosjours, 1200-1940, Paris, 1953, p. 15. Although nu contemporary sources mention such a confrontation, a courtyard palace depicted in serlio's manuscript Sestc libro has ixcasionally been advanced as the hypothetical contender (R. GARGIANI, Idea e costruzione del Louvre. Parigi cmciale riella storia dellbrchitenura modernu europea, Firenze, 1 Bsa, p. l 2). J.—M. PEROUSE as MONTCLDS, op. cit, p. 20. t,vlTEr, Le Louvre, Bureaux de la Revue contemporaine, Paris, 1852, p. sa. Idem, Le Louvre etle rlouvzau Louvre, Paris, 1882, p. 72. P. BURKE, Louis Xll/. Les xtmtégies de Ia gioire. P. CHEMLA (trans), Paris, 1995, p. 15. M. PETZET, c/dude Permiih und die Architektu! dcs Sonnenk5nigS, Miinchen, zooo, p. 19. Robert Berger develops this idea almost slnglernindedly in his book with an aptly metaphorical title: The Pdidce afthe Sun: The Lnuvre ofLouis XM Pennsylvania State UP, 1993. An early milestone otthis pride is L. HAUTECCEUR, Le Louvre et les Tuileries de Louis Xll/, Librairie Nationale d'Art et d'Histoire, Paris»Bruxelles, 1927, p. 164, closely followed by <3. BAZIN, Le Louvre: Ie poiais, Paris, 1933, p. 74; and, later on, T. SAUVEL, Les uureurs de Ia colonnade du Louvre, in: Bulletin Monumental, cxxll (4), 1954, p. 341. while virtually disappearing from specic scholarship after that. the issue of national style at the Louvre has remained to this day a staple ofarchitectural history textbooks. A. LANCE, nicriannuire des architectes frangais, Paris, 1571, p. I97; l_ vine-r, Op. crr., 1552, pp. i4+l4s; M. VACHON, Le Louvre etles Tuileries, hixtoire moriumeritale nouvelle. ‘Le grand dessein’ de Pierre Lescat, Lyon. 1 925, p. \9c A. BRUCCULERI, Louis Hautccreur at Varchltecture classique en France: du dessein historique a i'acrion publique, Paris. 2007, p. I64. W.H. WARD, ‘l'heArchitecture ofthe Renaissance in France London, 191 i, p. 462;. _ 16 ; 17 r \ Palazzn, Archireaure as Pdmaii: Exarism and me Royal Clmmcrerdfrhe Louvre ‘I9 ‘I904, PA 'l 15; M. VACHON, op. Ci1., p. 112‘ L. HAUTECCEUR, op. cit.; A. LAPRADE, Frangois d'Orlm}r. Architecte de LouisXIV, Hlris, 1960. , 15 L.V'ET, op. cit., 1832, PP~ 144-1452 L. MIRQT, Le Belnin en France, I5 tmvaux du Louvre e1 lei statues de LOUIS XIV, Paris. R. GARGIANI, Op. (it, p. 62;The actual inuence Ofde Moncunys's record is disputed; Robert Berger dismisses it as hav- irlg virtually no impacwn the Louvre design (R.W. BERGER, op. cir., p. 105). Christoph Frrrlrnel argues that French painting since the 16205 veered towards the representation of Antique ruins or reconstmctlons ("ll progetto di Houdin per il Louvre e il suo dlalogo COI1 l‘arc|'\itettura italiana', in s. FROMMEL»F. BARDATI (eds), La réception des rnddeles cinquecentschi dans Ia rhéorie er Ies uris frangrais du xvi/e siéde. Genéve, 2010, pp. 202403), bélt his only example is Poussin, whd spenr most of his career in Rome, and whose rarne may have lar oulstripped actual knowledge of his works in France before Mazarin and Luuis XIV began aggressively colleding them Gt is said one particular painting was won by rhe King over a match ofjeu de paurne against the Duke i1fMan- 1‘ ma). orher painters of antique settings, such as Claude Lorrain lhimseliari émigré to Rome), Migriard, and the very Le Brun, are contemporaries ofthe design process ofthe Louvre fa;ade rather than precursors of it. At any rate, Houdin's 1 design is much rndre cleariy relared to Palladian precedents than to a direct reading ufAn!ique models. Furthermore, it remains to be proven that a taste for antique ruins in painring will ipso facto result in en eperirive knowledge of Anriquiry for the purpses of full-scale architectural compositions. S. FROMMEL, Quarre lluliens fa(e all Louvre: compétitiom contagion, corrélation, in: S. FROMMEL~F. BARDATI (eds.), op. cit., p. 213. \ 245 !KON, 57201 2 Pedro Paulo Palano Arhinektura kao pféli egzntiénnst i kraljevski kankter Liouvrea (1:50.-1563.) Kraljevska arhilektura Luuvrea u Yenesansi i u klasiénoj francuskoj umjemosti pokazuje postupnu pmmjanu arhitek- tonskih oblika te nagla§en knnfinuitet poliliékoga utjecaja; §tovi§e,vidljivci je da je arhitektonski oblik uvijek odreden p0li\'iE— kom lkunograjom vladajuéeg kralja. Te promjene, Gd utvrde-dvorca Karlav. do Lujevog napulanja Louvrea i pleseljenja \.\ Versailles, otkrivaju nizarhitektonskih portreta nastalih pod kraljevskim pokroviteljstvom, koji se bimo razlikuju ad ustaljenih arhitektonskih obrazaca svoga vremena. Zaiedniéka Zaijk gradnji pad kraljevskim pokroviteljstvom u Fraricuskoj, od po- lovine 15.du poiovine 17. stolieéa, jest njihuva ksenolija. Nisu samo Slranci bili pozivani na dvorveé su i dcmaéi umjetnici bili poticani da utjeéu Ila srrane stilorve. Pulltiéka vainost ukusa za egzoziam i znaenja koja SE mogu pripisali rezullatima formalnog repermara, nisu, medutim, bili pledmet znaéainijih prouéavanja arhitektunske povljesti. Poievii Qd monumen— talnog stubiita Karla v. u Louvreu iz 15. stcljeéa, veéina ée ustvarenja biti pnlaknuta ieljom Z3 veliéanjem vladarske iiénosti. Uz utilitame funkcije, sve promjene toga doba Ll Lcuvreu primamo SU sluiile predstavljanju kralja u njegovoj pari§koj rezi— denciji. cm zapadnoga krila Louvrea Franje 1. namijenjenog impresioniranju njegova ipaniolskog suparnika, do Perraultova nedcvréenog krila, koje je trebalo bili dekoriIan0,.u rnaniri svih svjetskih nar0da" (167O—ih), kaoi puznale kolonade, mam utjecaji bili SU Sli ovih Zdanja_ 5:0 god da je mu izgradio U Lcuvreu, bilo je izgradeno da ga izdvoji nd ostatka pIemstva.To Se moglo postiéi uvoenjem radikalnih razliéitosti od onoga §to je plemstvo gradilo iii bi moglo izgraditi, kao u primjérima talijaniziranih furmi za Henrika II. i Luja XIV. Kolonada u Luuvreu vjerojalno je Vrhurvac ovoga plpcesa. Unaw Berninijevu neuspjehu pli ustvarivanju svoga projekta, nepogrevu kombinaciju rimskih kompozicija lz 16.i 11. smljeéa izvedenu na pruéelju prepoznali su i stariji povjesniéari. Naravnd, (O je biln p-me drukiije ad léega its bi francusko plemstvo sagradilo u vrijeme rastuéeg nacionalizma. Percepcija kblunade U Louvreu kau "iipinog primjera francuskog kIasicizma"stvorena je tek kasnije, tijekom nacionalistiikih nemira 1920. gudine; u 19. su stoljeéu poviesriiaaii kao tipifian primjer fmncuske arhitekture vi§e cijenili krilo Franje I. Poanta svih intervencija. od Karla v. do Luja xiv. bila je upravn Cinjenica da one nikad nisu Lrebale biti tipine. Percipirane kao ucbiéajene suvremene arhitektonske frme, ne bi mogle sluiiti kao arhitektonski portreti klalja. Primljeno/Received:28.10.2011. Pregledni i-ad 246 Prijevods englzskogu: Mnllimz Skrinjar 
work_6efcnzdc2zabtjhyszxngnai5y	----	Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 i Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 26-29 May, 2020 Tufts University, Boston (USA) Edited by Elsa De Luca and Julia Flanders ii Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 iii Richard Freedman, Anna J. Kijas 1 Foreword Keynote I Timothy Duguid 3 The Forgotten Classroom? Bringing Music Encoding to a New Generation Articles Juliette Regimbal, Gabriel Vigliensoni, Caitlin Hutnyk, Ichiro Fujinaga 15 IIIF-based Lyric and Neume Editor for Square-notation Manuscripts Martha E. Thomae; Antonio Ríos-Vila, Jorge Calvo-Zaragoza, David Rizo, José M. Iñesta 19 Retrieving Music Semantics from Optical Music Recognition by Machine Translation Emiliano Ricciardi, Craig Sapp 25 Editing Italian Madrigals in the Digital World: The Tasso in Music Project Niels Pfeffer, Klaus Rettinghaus 41 Probstücke Digital A Critical Digital Edition of Johann Mattheson's 24 Probstücke of the Ober-Classe Mark Saccomano, Natalia Ermolaev 47 MEI and Verovio for MIR: A Minimal Computing Approach David M. Weigl, Werner Goebl 51 Rehearsal Encodings with a Social Life Paul D. Lehrman 55 MIDI 2.0: the Benefits and the Challenges Johannes Kepper, Agnes Seipelt, Kristin Herold, Ran Mo 59 MusicDiff: A Diff Tool for MEI Salome Obert 67 Beethovens Werkstatt on the Test Bench Yaolong Ju, Sylvain Margot, Cory McKay, Ichiro Fujinaga 71 Figured Bass Encodings for Bach Chorales in Various Symbolic Formats A Case Study Reinier de Valk, David Lewis, Tim Crawford, Ryaan Ahmed, Laurent Pugin, Johannes Kepper 75 Crafting TabMEI, a Module for Encoding Instrumental Tablatures Néstor Nápoles López, Ichiro Fujinaga 83 Harmalysis: A Language for the Annotation of Roman Numerals in Symbolic Music Representations iv Anna Plaksin 87 Do Visual Features Matter? Studies in Phylogenetic Analysis of Mensural Music Jennifer Diane Harding 95 Computer-Aided Analysis Across the Tonal Divide Cross-Stylistic Applications of the Discrete Fourier Transform Posters Emilia Parada-Cabaleiro, Álvaro Torrente 105 Preventing Conversion Failure Across Encoding Formats A Transcription Protocol and Representation Scheme Considerations Klaus Rettinghaus, Daniel Röwenstrunk, Johannes Kepper 109 Integrating Score Rendition in the MEI Garage Patrick Rashleigh, Crystal Brusch 111 Multimedia from the 17th-Century Book to the 21st-Century Web A Playable Digital Edition of Michael Maier’s "Atalanta fugiens" Kevin Kuo, Raffaele Viglianti 117 Implementing the Enhancing Music Addressability API for MusicXML Karen Desmond, Andrew Hankinson, Laurent Pugin, Juliette Regimbal, Craig Sapp, Martha E. Thomae 121 Next Steps for Measuring Polyphony A Prototype Editor for Encoding Mensural Music Keynote II Estelle Joubert 125 Traversing Eighteenth-Century Networks of Operatic Fame Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 1 Foreword Richard Freedman Anna E. Kijas Haverford College Tufts University rfreedma@haverford.edu Anna.Kijas@tufts.edu The 2020 Music Encoding Conference was both the biggest and strangest ever. Originally planned to be held on the campus of Tufts University from May 26 to May 29, 2020, we were obliged by the COVID-19 public health crisis to move everything to the digital realm. Members of the organizing, program and local arrangements committees imagined ways to host workshops, interest groups, town hall meetings online, papers, posters, and keynote talks digitally using Zoom and Slack. Such forums can never replace face-to-face interaction. But the music encoding community–always remarkable for its sense of openness and professionalism–was ready for the challenge. And so our meeting was no less successful than it was curious or large (with over 250 regis- trants, it was twice the size of any other of our meetings). We are pleased to offer the collected papers and posters prepared for MEC 2020 as they circulated in ad- vance of the virtual event. We append to those the written versions of the keynote talks by Dr. Timothy Duguid and Dr. Estelle Joubert. Together, these documents represent the rich array of practices and thinking em- braced by the music encoding community, from ways of thinking about images, editions, and performance, to new approaches to analysis and encoding. We are grateful to the many hands who contributed to this work, namely Anna Kijas, Julie-Ann Bryson, Sarah Connell, Julia Flanders, Jessica Fulkerson, Johannes Kepper, Elsa De Luca, Vincent Besson, Margrethe Bue, Joy Calico, Stefan Münnich, Anna Plaksin, David Weigl, and Irmlind Capelle. 2 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 3 The forgotten classroom? Bringing music encoding to a new generation Timothy Duguid University of Glasgow tim.duguid@glasgow.ac.uk Abstract Digital methods have begun to make their way into the research practices of music scholars, and most this insurgence can be attributed to the rise of the discipline of music technology. Though music encoding is be- coming increasingly prevalent among the research and teaching methodologies of music scholars, evidence gathered from course descriptions and presentations at national meetings of music scholars would indicate that encoding continues to lag other music-based technologies. Drawing from the advancement of music technology and the experiences of digital humanities teaching and scholarship, this paper presents a path for the music encoding community to promote greater integration of encoding and digital methods more broadly into the pedagogical practices of music historians and music theorists. Introduction How do we teach music encoding? Do we profess it? Do we profess to teach it? Or, do we teach (cours- es like encoding and computer-assisted analysis) so that we might profess (our scholarly understanding of digital musicology as the intersection of musicology and computing)? However seemingly simple the question “what do we do?” may be, we do a disservice to our field and ourselves if we fail to consider the importance of pedagogy when it comes to answering such questions, no matter how commonsensical they might at first appear.1 This is a modified quote from Brett Hirsch in which his references to digital humanities have been replaced with references to music. Just as these questions helped frame a budding reemphasis on pedagogy within the digital humanities community in 2012, they are helpful to the music encoding community as it weighs the proper use of music encoding within the classroom. As Hirsch notes, some discussions of pedagogy seem pedestrian and as he says ‘commonsensical’. Nevertheless, they are foundational for establishing a pedagogy for music encoding. Indeed, just as current music encoding tools and methodologies had to start from scratch, so also the associated pedagogical strategies for incorporating these digital research methods must start at the most fundamental levels. And yet, the fundamental nature of these questions belies their complexity. It would be quite bold for any one person to claim to sufficiently answer these questions. After all, as Sean Michael Morris states, “Pedagogy has at its core timelines, mindfulness, and improvisation. Pedagogy concerns itself with the instantaneous, momentary, vital exchange that takes place in order for learning to happen“ [2]. Like in improvisation, the pedagogue is constantly adapting to the audience, to the subject, and to the goals of the performance. Al- though this might appeal to some, the classroom is not a formula by which all students will learn if the in- structor follows it. And yet, it is tempting to approach pedagogical practices in this way. Perhaps this is just my background as the son of a carpenter, but one tool will not allow you to build a house. Indeed, I spent many summers as a gofer for my father, crawling in his van to find that one tool among the hundreds that would get a specific job done. So too must pedagogues build and rely upon a set of tools that will facilitate learning depending on the situation. My presentation today is therefore not going to answer the questions outlined 1 Hirsch’s original quote is “...do we teach digital humanities? Do we profess it? Do we profess to teach it? Or, do we teach (courses like computer-assisted text analysis and others surveyed in this collection and beyond) so that we might profess (our scholarly understand- ing of the digital humanities as the intersection of humanities and computing)? However seemingly simple the question ‘what do we do?’ may be, we do a disservice to our field and ourselves if we fail to consider the importance of pedagogy when it comes to answering such questions, no matter how commonsensical they might at first appear.” (emphasis original) [1, pp. 16-17]. 4 at the start, but rather to foster discussions of these questions by presenting a couple of tools to add to our collection of strategies for incorporating music encoding and other digital methods into music classrooms. Digital pedagogy? What does “digital pedagogy” mean? Like its parent, digital humanities, this term has been widely discussed across the humanities with little resolution. Simply breaking the term into its constituent parts, Morris de- scribes pedagogy as “...a scholarship unto itself, a study of learning and the many ways it is fueled - in class- rooms, in workshops, in studios, in writing centers - wherever learning is poised to occur“ [2]. While Brian Croxall and Adeline Koh have likened the digital to that which consists of “electrical elements” [3] I think music scholars require a more precise definition, particularly considering our history with analogue electronic devic- es such as oscilloscopes, analogue synthesizers, and microphones (just to name a few). So, I turn to the defi- nition from the OED, which states that digital refers to “signals, information, or data: represented by a series of discrete values (commonly the numbers 0 and 1), typically for electronic storage or processing” [4]. We can then infer that “digital pedagogy” is the study of the processes by which learning occurs either in or as a result of the electronic storage or processing of discrete values. This is an admittedly wide umbrella that may leave many uneasy about the sorts of learning and activities it could include. In many ways, such a broad definition harkens to the unease many digital humanists feel when someone asserts that doing ‘digital research’ involves simply reading an article online or publishing in an e-Journal. Indeed, at the popularization of Learning Management Systems such as Blackboard and Moodle, many were happily convinced that digital pedagogy simply meant offering a course online. As Morris quips, digital pedagogy “was easy...a mere work of relocation” [2]. In one sense, this view is correct: digital technolo- gies have been used to teach the subject at hand. However, limiting digital pedagogy to posting slides or lec- ture recordings online hamstrings the types of resources and capacities that the digital affords. Within digital humanities pedagogy, there has been a trend away from the types of sterile and static pedagogical practices that simply transfer existing “analogue” content and methods online and towards more active, student-cen- tered approaches that emphasize collaboration, hacking, process, and construction and that actively bring cutting-edge research into the heart of the classroom. In this regard, Morris’s definition of pedagogy is par- ticularly helpful. For within true digital pedagogy there are continuous acts of refinement: learning from the digital approaches that have or have not worked in the past in an effort to improve and enhance the learning experience. How did we get here? Pedagogy has long been at the heart of humanities computing. Workshops such as the “Teaching Computers and the Humanities” series sponsored by the Association for Computers and the Humanities, as well as the Computers and Teaching in the Humanities conference provide some early examples. Moreover, the 1980s and 90s saw the establishment of dedicated digital humanities centers such as the Center for Computing in the Humanities at the University of Toronto, the Centre for Computing in the Humanities (now the Department of Digital Humanities) at King’s College London, the Institute for Advanced Technology in the Humanities at the University of Virginia, and the Humanities Advanced Technology and Information Institute at the University of Glasgow (now the Department of Information Studies). But, despite the efforts of these and the establish- ment of initiatives such as the Digital Humanities Summer Institute at the University of Victoria, pedagogy was sidelined in public discourses through much of the first decade of the 2000s. Whether this occurred as a result of funding availability or other external pressures, research methods garnered the collective attentions of both scholars and benefactors. As Hirsch recalls, Donald Bruce’s plenary presentation at the 2009 Digital Humanities Summer Institute highlighted this growing imbalance, something Hirsch labels “bracketing”, and the community began to take note. By the end of 2011, the Digital Humanities at Oxford Summer School had been started, the first THATCamp Pedagogy had been held, and two roundtable sessions focused on digital pedagogies had been accepted for the 2012 annual meeting of the Modern Languages Association in Seattle [1, pp. 3-5]. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 5 Since that time, pedagogy has become a central concern of the digital humanities community. Since 2011, for example, the National Endowment for the Humanities has approved 63 different grants totaling over $8 million that develop digital teaching resources and pedagogical methodologies.2 In the same period, the Mel- lon Foundation has invested over $3.8 million across 7 different grants that are similarly focused.3 The liter- ature on digital pedagogies has also grown significantly since 2011. The volumes of the Debates in the Digital Humanities series, and Hacking the Academy have devoted numerous chapters to the topic, and journals such as Digital Humanities Quarterly and Digital Scholarship in the Humanities as well as blogging platforms such as Hybrid Pedagogy have devoted significant space to digital pedagogy. Music also has a sustained history in pedagogical practice and research, and it has a similarly long history with technology. I’ll not rehearse what are well-known stories such as Johann Sebastian Bach’s widely varied education in music performance and composition or Edison’s invention of the cylinder phonograph. However, it is interesting that music pedagogy and technology became somewhat estranged in the twentieth century. Reporting on the state of higher education institutions in the United Kingdom in 2007, Carola Boehm traced the history of music technology through five generations of researchers and innovators. The first generation, labelled the Experimenters and Innovators, includes Schaeffer, Stockhausen, Eimert and Cage, among others. Then came the “Commercializers” in the 1970s and 80s such as Boulez, Vercoe, Wishart, and Puckett, who first began to teach music technologies in the classroom and who began to market technologies widely. This gave rise to the third generation, the ‘First Lecturers’ in the 1990s and 2000s, who seeing the rise in affordable digi- tal audio equipment wanted to provide training for enthusiasts. Boehm’s fourth generation was therefore one in formation when she wrote, as it included those who were then graduating from newly constructed degree programs in music technology. Finally, the fifth generation was one she projected would move on to gradu- ate-level education in the 20-teens. Despite this optimism, she still concluded that music technology remained the discipline that “never was” [5]. Boehm has since published a reappraisal of music technology within the U.K., conceiving of a sixth generation in which music technology has been cemented as an academic field, with the fourth and fifth generations having begun to have an impact on the industry [6]. Wanting to compare those findings with current pedagogical practices in the United States, I conducted a survey of more than 60 of the country’s leading music schools. After exploring the undergraduate and gradu- ate course catalogues of each of these institutions, I found that all of the institutions offer technology-related courses to their students. Although I have only looked closely at schools in the U.K. and U.S, I daresay that one would find similar results in other countries around the world. One could conclude, therefore, that digital pedagogy is well in-hand throughout music schools today. However, a closer look at the course descriptions of the same group of U.S. institutions reveals another story. Given the emergence of ‘maker culture,’ it is unsurprising that many institutions are now offering courses on digital music recording, music synthesis technologies, sound production, music distribution and marketing, and multimedia integration and alignment (including audio in video, film and video games). One might even add music notation software to that mix, particularly given the divergent idiosyncrasies of LilyPond, Finale, Sibelius, MuseScore, etc.4 When I remove these courses from the list, in other words, looking for course de- scriptions in which digital humanities-related research methods are mentioned (i.e. optical music recognition, notation encoding; GIS; score-media alignment; metadata generation and curation; network analysis; and computer-aided distant reading of corpora, just to name a few), that list is whittled down to just 20 courses, and that generously includes the courses on notation that purport to include the latest developments in digital music notation that may or may not include music encoding.5 If those notation courses are removed from the list, the number is cut in half. Across more than 60 of the most reputed music institutions of higher education in the United States, only 10 course descriptions could be found that use these methods. While it should be 2 National Endowment for the Humanities, “Funded Projects Query Form,” neh.gov, https://securegrants.neh.gov/publicquery/main. aspx (accessed 22 May 2020). 3 The Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, “Grants Database,” mellon.org, https://mellon.org/grants/grants-database/ (accessed 22 May 2020). 4 Although the issues with these software packages are well documented, Martin Keary’s reviews provide some representative examples of this criticism. Martin Keary, “Tantacrul”, YouTube channel, https://www.youtube.com/user/martinthekearykid. 5 As a side note, this list of methods excluded courses that utilized image-based collections and repositories. While beneficial to music teaching and research, there is little computational difference between their utilization and that of PDFs or even hard copies of notated music. https://securegrants.neh.gov/publicquery/main.aspx https://securegrants.neh.gov/publicquery/main.aspx https://mellon.org/grants/grants-database/ https://www.youtube.com/user/martinthekearykid 6 noted how infrequently course descriptions are updated and that they cannot be expected to include all that a particular course might cover, this is symptomatic of the state of today’s music academy, and particularly in the core areas of music history, literature, and theory. As another example, consider the annual meetings of the American Musicological Society and the Royal Music Association (Table 1). Looking at the published abstracts for the AMS dating back to 2010 and the RMA back to 2016 (earlier ones are not available on their website), a similar pattern emerges. The AMS has twice featured 8 papers, posters, or roundtables that include digital methods in their abstracts: in 2012 and 2019. However, these two years were significant outliers, as the remainder have featured between 0 and 4 presentations. Even if one accepts that some presentations may have been excluded from these counts because their abstracts do not mention any digital methods, the overall percentage remains paltry considering how large the conference is. For instance, 2019 featured more than 380 different presentations, which means that only 2% included digital methods. The Royal Music Association is not any better, as 2017 and 2019 were the high-water marks, featuring only 2 presentations that mentioned digital methods. This all points to an absence of digital methods from research workflows of historical musicologists, or at least the workflows of those considered within the mainstream of their respective disciplines. Indeed, if faculty are not engaging with these methods in their own research, they are not likely to teach them to their students. On the contrary, emerging areas such as music recording, sound production, and electroacoustics - those fields commonly included under the umbrella of music technology- have largely adopted digital methods in their research and pedagogical workflows. Even applied musical instruction has begun to incorporate more digital resources, as more and more apps are being built to provide access to sheet music, to record practice or performance, and for immediate analysis for those performances. Sadly, music history, literature, and theory have not been so quick to adopt digital methods in either research or teaching. Indeed, based on my findings regarding course offerings and research paper presentations, musicologists and music theory scholars seem to relegate digital methods to research on twentieth- and twenty-first-century music, in essence where digital media already exists. They are much less likely to employ digital methods for music composed before 1900. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 7 This is not to say that musicologists and theorists are unaware of the developments in these other areas, nor are they ignorant of the goings-on in the digital humanities. A survey conducted by Inskip and Wiering in 2015 would indicate that a lack of freely available digital data is one of the largest barriers to widespread implemen- tation of digital research methods. However, it is also true that specialists in music before the twentieth cen- tury are often unaware of the latest technologies and therefore how their research could benefit from digital methods. Additionally, a large number are generally uneasy about computers - after all, they argue, learning how to use Finale and Sibelius was traumatic enough! [7] Regardless of the reasons, students continue to pass through theory, literature and history curricula thinking that the cutting edge in these fields remains closely tied to analogue outputs or digital recordings. Looking at it another way, and a more superficial way, compare the ‘toys’ of musicologists and theorists with the ‘toys’ of other music scholars. The former has books, journals, eBooks, recordings, and PDFs along with instruments of varying types. The latter has mixers, synthesizers, loudspeakers, microphones, streaming services, and computer algorithms. So, what is the music encoding community to do? Over the years, this community has frequently engaged in discussions, both internally and externally with other like-minded groups, strategizing methods to promote music encoding and the various capacities it affords. Any attempt to list these efforts would be incomplete and do a disservice to those not mentioned. However, engaging with these scholarly communities at their annual meetings have had positive effects. In addition, pedagogical efforts such as the digital methods workshops hosted at various conferences and intensive summer schools around the world have provided hands-on op- portunities for researchers to learn and interact with music encoding practices. These corporate efforts add to the numerous individual conversations that our members all have had with those in our own respective institutions. Of course, these should all continue, but I would argue that an increased emphasis on incorpo- rating these into undergraduate and graduate-level instruction is a critical step in transforming the discipline. Following Boehm’s outline, one could argue that music encoding may only be in its second or third generation, so now is the time to start incorporating it into the classroom. In formulating a strategy for incorporating digital research methods such as music encoding into course cur- ricula, the experiences of colleagues in the digital humanities are instructive. As mentioned earlier, pedagogy was not a significant focus of the digital humanities in the 2000s, and when that began to change in the early 20-teens, the initial assessments of digital humanities pedagogy were that it was widely varied. On the one hand, researchers were simply teaching students based on their own research and methods, which of course vary from project to project and person to person. On the other, it undoubtedly confused many students who were trying to figure out what this “digital humanities” thing was (incidentally, something that practitioners themselves still have difficulty defining). However, the field has begun to coalesce, leading Deborah Garwood and Alex Poole to conclude that “DH pedagogy inspires students and faculty members to critically, openly, col- laboratively, collectively and symbiotically to explore existing or to carve out new research and scholarly areas across disciplines” [8, p. 552]. The same could be said for digital pedagogy in music-related studies: it should inspire students and faculty to critically, openly, collaboratively and collectively explore existing scholarship and establish new areas of inquiry that are not necessarily limited by disciplinary boundaries. Music encoding in the classroom There are a number of tactics that one could employ in tackling the issue of digital pedagogy. Some, like Claire Battershill and Shawna Ross in their recent monograph Using Digital Humanities in the Classroom, discuss the barriers that have been constructed against the incorporation of digital methods in the classroom, categoriz- ing them according to the source: that is as coming from the instructor, students, and colleagues [9, pp. 13-24]. Within the context of a monograph acting as a practical guide to incorporating well-established pedagogical methods into classroom environments, such an organization makes sense. However, music pedagogues are not so fortunate in having tried and tested methods for incorporating digital methods into music classrooms, and particularly music history and music theory classrooms. Therefore, the remaining discussion is going to be more topical, exploring the issues of audience and managing stress and chaos, before concluding with a couple of skills that should be included in digital curricula. 8 Audience-appropriate content Modern society is fixated on audiences, customers, and even students. While one might argue that this has its drawbacks, considering one’s audience does help to provide helpful perspectives from a pedagogical point of view. Student-centered teaching strategies have become quite popular in the past couple of decades, but a challenge to digital pedagogies appears when the instructor gets so excited about a newly discovered or developed tool or digital method. In their enthusiasm, the instructor forgets why the students are sitting there in that lecture theatre, and the class becomes a lesson in a tangentially related digital tool rather than the orig- inal subject. Regardless of whether said instructor is excited about a tool, a digital method, or some minutia of digital humanities theory, Ryan Cordell boldly asserts, “undergraduate students do not care about digital humanities,” and he continues “most graduate students...do not come to graduate school primarily invested in becoming ‘digital humanists’” [10]. His comments could also be applied to music students: most have inten- tionally chosen to avoid computer science and mathematics. One could take this one step further. There was a pervasive theory in pedagogical writing around the turn of the century that students were “digital natives” and were therefore more comfortable with and competent in all activities relating to computers. However, as Bran- don Locke comments, “ Students are often much less adept at creating content that is not tightly mediated by some kind of commercial service with restrictions on form (e.g. Snapchat, Twitter, Facebook)” [11]. Students are therefore just as reticent as other generations when it comes to angle brackets and curly braces. Indeed, despite the “digital natives” moniker that sadly still surfaces in the pedagogical literature, it is important to re- member that many music students will not have the inbuilt, innate, or otherwise preexisting familiarity with or comfort with music encoding or code-based analysis tools. Nor do they necessarily want to spend significant time learning how to code and encode. When developing course content that utilizes digital methods, one should therefore consider the students’ skill levels at entry and the desired results once they complete the course. As an illustration, I point to a course I teach at Glasgow called Music Curation and Analytics, which is offered to upper-level undergraduates in Information Studies. Most of these students are not music students (and one would assume intentionally so, since they are studying information studies and not music). The first year I taught the course, I had them transcribe a piece of music in MuseScore and then export it to musicXML and on to MEI before they then edited the MEI file. The idea was that they would gain experience in understanding each format. Since the students already had a level of XML training, I figured that they would be able to handle the MEI modification. For students who had a background in music, this task was not too onerous, but others really struggled with the transcription in MuseScore - despite me providing a basic introduction to reading Western music notation - because they remained too unfamiliar with music terminology and therefore spent much of the semester trying to transcribe their piece, let alone considering what changes could be made to the MEI. In the second year, I focused less on the specifics of music notation and more on the comparisons between the MusicXML file and the MEI file, describing the differences and what those meant both semanti- cally and in terms of the capabilities of both formats. Students did much better with this approach, given their existing background in XML. Indeed, this latter approach was much more attuned to the course objectives, which were to introduce students to the ways in which music-related information is created, stored, analyzed and otherwise reused. Managing stress and chaos Despite this anecdote, some outside this community (and perhaps some within it) might argue that music en- coding is too new, and its accompanying toolset too underdeveloped to be presented in the classroom. Those promoting this view might worry that students could be overwhelmed and frustrated by complicated software installations and tools that frequently “break” or do not perform as expected. On the one hand, this risk can be reduced by limiting student expectations of the technology. For instance, MEI rolled-out version 4.0 while I was in the middle of teaching music encoding to a group of masters students. As you may be aware, version 4.0 involved significant changes to the way metadata was captured in the meiHead element, and this impact- ed some of the validation functionality afforded by plugins to Atom. However, at the beginning of the course, several weeks in advance of the release, I had mentioned that MEI is a community-based standard for encod- ing music notation and that those standards can change to adapt to meet the needs of the community. The Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 9 students were therefore much more flexible in their expectations of the technology. Rather than causing sig- nificant upheaval in the middle of the class, the update in MEI versions offered us the opportunity to explore the new guidelines and to learn from them together. We were able to discuss the changes and to consider the semantic impacts of those changes. This is a relatively tame example, but there are others in which something may actually fail. Indeed, Katherine Harris goes so far as to insist that students will break digital tools [12, p. 21]. As Lisa Sprio notes, however, “...the digital humanities community recognizes the value of failure in the pursuit of innovation...since it indicates that the experiment was likely high risk and means that we collectively learn from failure rather than reproducing it (assuming the failure is documented)” [13]. Indeed, students should not be completely shielded from unsuccessful results. Rather, they should be trained in ways to document them and to learn from them. Figure 1: Proposed integration of digital methods into music curricula Beyond turning these challenges and even failures into positive learning experiences, the music encoding community can recommend systemic controls that effectively would limit students’ potential exposure to frus- trating results until they have reached a point at which they can either troubleshoot them or can properly contextualize their experience. The music encoding community therefore needs a coordinated progressive strategy for introducing digital methods into music history, literature and theory curricula (as that suggested in Figure 1). Of course, tiered approaches to curricula are nothing new to music pedagogues who teach a broad range of courses from music appreciation to advanced Schenkerian analysis. However, the same pedagogues may not have considered that a similar approach is required for digital methods. Given the general reticence that many music students have towards computers, digital pedagogues need to start with some simple digital discovery before throwing students into the world of angle brackets and curly braces. That is, show them the utility and capabilities that digital methods afford. This is the step that many instructors missed in the early days of the digital humanities. In the early days of the digital humanities, instructors rushed to create survey courses, forgetting that students first needed to be shown why DH was important and how it could positively benefit their studies and research. As Cordell notes [10], students and colleagues are more receptive to digital methods when they were integrated into a course that they already deemed relevant to their studies. Indeed, this is what Adeline Koh also describes, as she encourages instructors to employ the tools with which stu- dents are most familiar (i.e. Google Maps, Wikipedia, etc.) before delving into more complicated elements [14]. Music teaching should therefore start with simple tools that are integrated into survey curricula to provide data-intensive illustrations of the overarching concepts that are being taught. At this level, it is critical that the expertise and training for the digital resource should be minimal, so it does not overshadow the subject-spe- cific training. Jonathan Howell provides a good illustration of the balance required at this level. He describes how he created a linguistics course that relied heavily on R, but that his students struggled to keep up with both the programming requirements of the course and the linguistics content. Before offering the course a second time, he built a web application that allowed his students to take advantage of analytical tools offered 10 by R without requiring them to know how to code in R. The result was a much better student experience that recognized the benefits of digital approaches within the context of linguistic research [15]. Resources such as the Verovio Online Editor and jSymbolic could be incorporated in this same way because they do not require significant coding expertise at the outset. However, music pedagogy would benefit from more of these types of low-level digital tools that allow students to start familiarizing themselves with digital methods. There are, of course, limitations to digital tools, as Locke argues, “Tool-based literacy limits sustainability, cross-platform work, and understanding of the impact of media upon the message” [11]. It is therefore im- portant for curricula to build on the initial introductions that occur in the first tier with both surveys of digital methods and more focused digital training to provide much-needed critical skills to evaluate those digital methods. Although it is not a degree-based curriculum, I would argue that the offerings of the Digital Human- ities Summer Institute (DHSI) are a helpful exemplar. Begun in 2000, DHSI provides intensive training in the digital humanities. It offers over 50 different one-week courses over a two-week period in June that cover a broad range of topics relating to DH research and pedagogical practices. Much like other digital humanities summer schools, DHSI operates on the assumption that its students have already encountered digital meth- ods within their coursework, research, or teaching. This digital first contact has the DHSI student itching to learn more, but that person may not have any level of technical expertise. DHSI therefore offers a number of “Foundations” courses that provide entry-level surveys of digital methods and training in courses such as TEI, DH technologies, introductory computation, digitization, and even music encoding.6 I would argue that these types of courses are the logical second step in a tiered digital curriculum. For degree-based music instruction, this could include introductions to music encoding in which students actually start encoding music using vari- ous standards. It could also include basic introductions to computational analysis of musical content. The key is that these courses should effectively build from the ground up, that is, they should start with the assump- tion that students have little or no expertise in that particular area. The third and final step in this tiered approach involves offering much more advanced courses in digital methods that require a certain level of expertise at the outset. These courses may explore the areas of com- puter learning, analytical methods in python or R, or even combinations of digital methods, and often these courses are much more focused in terms of their musical remit. For instance, one could envision a course on computational stylistic analyses of Stravinsky’s oeuvre.7 Skills development Having outlined this hierarchy, it is important to consider what topics are fundamental to the discipline as it moves towards digital research methodologies, and which are less crucial. Given the widely varied and chang- ing state of digital methodologies in music, I would not pretend to offer such a hierarchy on my own here. That said, I would suggest two important skill sets that should be included. Digital literacy Despite the increased use of digital pedagogies, Locke comments, “there should be reason for concern that students are often taking part in digital information and media transmission, but are not currently trained in the literacies and affordances of the technology they use” [11]. Indeed, it is almost cliché that every course today claims to instill in students critical thinking skills, but this can be very difficult to achieve in a single course. I would argue that if music teachers continue to make these claims, particularly for history and theory curricula, there needs to be a reevaluation of how students in the digital age can be trained in critical thinking so that it approaches what Locke and others would label digital literacy. Although students are accustomed to taking surveys and to providing reviews of their meals and shopping experiences, it can be difficult to en- courage them to think outside their own experience and particularly about the strengths and weaknesses of those digital methods and the resulting limitations of the data they produce. I would argue that there are four components to digital critical evaluation. To illustrate the first two, permit me a brief excursus. 6 For a list of courses, see “Course Offerings,” Digital Humanities Summer Institute (DHSI), https://dhsi.org/course-offerings/ (accessed 22 May 2018). 7 A similar hierarchical structuring of instruction is proposed by [10]. https://dhsi.org/course-offerings/ Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 11 Nestled in the hills of Western Pennsylvania, is a small city called Beaver Falls. Known as the hometown of American Football Hall-of-Famer Joe Namath and the setting of the 1980s TV show Alf, Beaver Falls is also home to a small liberal arts school called Geneva College. As an alumnus of Geneva, I could regale you with some of its historical claims to fame, which include participating in the Underground Railroad during the Amer- ican Civil War, as well as claiming to have played the first men’s college basketball game in 1893. However, my reason for mentioning Geneva in this context is not for one of these claims to fame but rather for what some might consider to be a mundane architectural feature: a bridge at the edge of campus that crosses some 50 feet (15.25 meters) above the Beaver River connecting Beaver Falls to the small township of Eastvale. This was the site of an interesting experiment that did not result in a discipline-changing discovery but rather an exper- iment that epitomizes the learning experience. A personal friend and Geneva alumnus told me of one of his experiences as a student there. During one of his summer vacations, he worked as a lab assistant for one of the chemistry professors. This meant that he and another student were tasked with preparing the labs for the upcoming autumn term. They cleaned the labs and their equipment; took inventory; and disposed of, ordered and received new equipment and supplies. One day, he and the other lab assistant came across a substantial container of sodium that needed to be dis- posed of. This was back in the 1960s, and what else were two college students to do with a bucket of sodium? Of course, let’s take it down to the Eastvale Bridge and heave it over the side to see what happens! According to my friend, the result was quite spectacular, resulting in a jet of water that shot up onto the bridge and the vehicles crossing it. Looking back on the situation, said alumnus admitted that it was probably not the safest or smartest thing to do. However, it illustrates two elements that I think are critical to education: knowledge and play. The two students knew of sodium’s reactivity with water, and they were willing (admittedly unadvisedly) to apply that knowledge to “see what happens”. And, given the fact that my friend told the story with a smirk on his face some forty years later would indicate that he has never forgotten about the violent reaction that can occur when sodium comes into contact with water. I would therefore argue that first and foremost, students need to have the requisite subject knowledge to be able to contextualize information. Then students should be afforded the opportunity to apply that knowledge while playing with specific digital tools. This approach to digital pedagogy is well established across the sciences and humanities, as is chronicled by Jentery Sayers [16]. Despite the benefits of allowing students the space to play with digital tools and methods, Nuria Garcia, et al caution that the digital sandboxes established for classrooms need to have boundaries, arguing “The goal in the college classroom should not be to allow for open-ended digital play and exploration of the kind that professional humanities scholars are motivated to undertake, because as one learner noted, ‚the amount of information can truly be overwhelming, and a large part of the success of this exercise seems to lie in not only how to use the [digital] tools to the best advantage, but in…avoiding dead-ends“ [17]. Even if students are afforded the space to tinker with digital tools, they often lack the ability to understand the raw data they are gathering, particularly if it is quantitative data. As Jonathan Howell argues, “...quantitative literacy ought not to be regarded by the instructor in a non-STEM field as an add-on to existing course content, but ideally as an integral part of teaching students how to be a historian/anthropologist/classicist/etc” [18, p. 16]. The past 3-4 months have provided an instructive illustration of the dangers of quantitative illiteracy if one is willing to look. The COVID-19 outbreak has provided an unparalleled (I refuse to use the word “unprecedent- ed”, given its overuse and abuse lately) deluge of quantitative data for public consumption. There have been daily updates of test rates, positive test results, negative test results, hospital admission statistics, ICU admis- sion statistics, daily deaths with COVID-19 listed as a potential cause, deaths of people who had previously tested positive for COVID-19, care home deaths, and now “R-numbers.” Despite all this raw data, it has been painfully obvious that many (including the media and politicians) are ill-equipped to parse the numbers and to understand what the numbers mean and what they do not mean. Similarly, as quantitative analyses become increasingly present in musical analysis, it is important for the field to consider how it can teach students how to value these analytical techniques and the data they generate, evaluating the assumptions inherent in the methods and tools and thereby critically evaluating the conclusions that result. Moreover, focusing solely on digital and quantitative methods provides students with a limited scope and therefore hampers their ability to critically evaluate those methods. As suggested by Paul Fyfe the combina- 12 tion of analogue and digital methodologies gives students the requisite space for critical observation. In a class on Pride and Prejudice, Fyfe comments, „Unplugging the search engine can help students perceive the limita- tions as well as the possibilities of what makes these engines run: pattern matching, which by itself is a far cry from reading at any distance. It sharpens students’ attention to forms of analysis that explore the analog and digital domains along a continuum. It helps students to interrogate the various kinds of readings they can do therein. And it reveals all of those kinds of readings as actively constituting critical interpretations“ [19]. Critical evaluation of digital tools, resources, and methods - even such as music encoding - require students first to have discipline-specific knowledge of music. They then should be trained in how to encode that music before they are given space to play around with various approaches to encoding music. Whether or not quantitative methods have been used, the students need training to illuminate the strengths and weaknesses of the encod- ing techniques they have employed. Finally students need to be able to compare these digital methods with analogue versions of the same. Collaboration In addition to digital literacy, digital pedagogies in music should include skills in collaboration. This may be an area of discomfort for many music theory scholars and musicologists, who, as noted by Kris Shaffer, prefer working in isolation [20]. However, one of the hallmarks of the digital humanities has been the promotion of collaborative research. Digital humanists freely recognize that no one person possesses the requisite skills and knowledge to produce a high-quality digital resource. Students should therefore be confronted with this reality: they may not be able to master all things musical while also trying to master all things digital. They should therefore be encouraged to specialize and then to collaborate with those with complementary special- ties. Even so, as Rebecca Frost Davis asked, “..but how do you teach collaboration?”. This question has been prob- lematic in DH pedagogy, particularly in terms of assigning credit in assessments. Recognizing the potential inequity of assigning all group participants the same grade regardless of their contribution level, some have innovated systems of assessing each person according to their contribution to the group’s final output. While I do not pretend to have solved the issue, I have found one method that works with my Music Curation and Analytics students while avoiding some common pitfalls. From the beginning, I was confronted with the reality that most of my students do not know how to read Western music notation and that I did not have the time to provide significant training in this while also covering aspects of encoding and curating notation data. Two other facts were also clear to me as I was planning this course. First, students rarely invest the amount of time outside of class that the University recommends they do (for humanities, 9 hours of prep for every hour spent in class). Second, students are often frustrated by graded group projects because of the inequalities that often surface. My solution was to have a scheduled session at the beginning of each week during which students have structured time to prepare for the week’s lecture. During that period, they were given a brief introduction to the week’s topic, and then they were asked to “play” together in groups, trying to accomplish some set tasks that are unassessed. The following day we discussed their group work during the lecture. This was then followed by a lab period in which the students were individually assigned an assessed task that builds on that week’s group activity and lecture. During the first week’s group session, I told the students that they could form their own groups, but I made sure that each group had at least one person who could read music. For the tasks relating to music notation (i.e. using MuseScore to transcribe a piece of music or encoding a piece to MEI), the person who could read music was asked to assist those who could not. This approach to group work was largely successful, as by the end of the semester the students were working well together not only on the group activities but also on their individual assignments. In fact, several of the students remarked that the group session helped them to better understand both lecture content and to be better prepared for the assessments. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 13 Conclusion Imagine a situation in which a music theory instructor is teaching about chord progressions, and asserts that an Authentic Cadence is the most common and most authoritative way to end a piece of tonal music. Immedi- ately a student shouts, “Prove it!” I daresay the vast majority of instructors today would not be able to prove it, even though they might be able to point to some important examples, While complete proof might be outside our grasp (particularly considering how little music throughout history has been preserved), it is well within the realm of possibility that said instructor could run a quick script on a large corpus of music and show said student that an Authentic Cadence is indeed most prevalent. At the same time, however, said instructor could simultaneously discover that a VI-I cadence is also common in a certain group of pieces, which then could pro- vide an avenue of investigation for both the instructor and the class. However fantastical this story may seem, situations like this arise on a regular basis within digital humanities classrooms around the world, even if on a smaller scale. With training and a strategic approach to digital methods implementation, the same could be true for music classrooms. Some historical musicologists or music theory scholars might recoil at what has been presented here as too statistical or at least too unsettling and computer dependent. After all, much of what I have advocated here requires a reconsideration of the ways in which we approach music history, literature, and theory in- struction, even at the most fundamental levels. And yet, the music encoding community offers a supportive atmosphere for those who want to incorporate encoding into their research workflows. As this community continues to grow and as music encoding continues to become more prevalent in research methodologies, we must consider the future and particularly how these methodologies can be passed on to the next generation of researchers. So, while communities such as ours may not be able to realize a change in music history or music theory curricula by ourselves, we can encourage those respective communities to update and expand their methodologies. Indeed, we can continue to promote the latest innovations in digital methodologies at national meetings and focused workshops, and thereby continue to highlight the benefits of employing digital methods within those respective fields. We can also start developing hierarchies of digital pedagogy as guides to both professional societies and individual departments for incorporating digital methodologies into their curricula. Finally, as you “go out” to your institutions (I am speaking in the digital sense since we remain in our homes for this conference), consider how you could either start incorporating music encoding and digital methods into your classes or alternatively how you might encourage your colleagues to do so. Indeed, by pro- moting best practices in both research and teaching as a collective, we can, like Boehm, look ahead to our own fourth, fifth, and sixth generations of music encoders and the exciting innovations that will accompany them. Works cited [1] Hirsch, Brett D. “</Parentheses>: Digital Humanities and the Place of Pedagogy” in Digital Humanities Pedagogy: Practices, Principles and Politics, ed. Brett D. Hirsch. Open Book Publishers, 2012. [2] Morris, Michael. “Decoding Digital Pedagogy, pt. 1: Beyond the LMS”. Posted on Hybrid Pedagogy (5 March 2013), https://hybridpeda- gogy.org/decoding-digital-pedagogy-pt-1-beyond-the-lms/ [3] Croxall, Brian, and Adeline Koh. “Digital Pedagogy?”. Posted on A Digital Pedagogy Unconference at #MLA13 (2013), https://www.brian- croxall.net/digitalpedagogy/what-is-digital-pedagogy/ [4] “digital, n. and adj.”. Oxford English Dictionary Online. Oxford University Press (March 2020), https://www.oed.com/view/En- try/52611?redirectedFrom=digital [5] Boehm, Carola. “The discipline that never was: Current developments in Music Technology in higher education in Britain” Journal of Music, Technology and Education 1, no. 3 (2007), 7-21, doi: 10.1386/jmte.1.1.7_1. [6] Boehm, Carola, Russ Hepworth-Sawyer, Nick Hughes, and Dawid Ziemba. “The discipline that ‚became‘: Developments in Music Technology in British higher education between 2007 and 2018” Journal of Music, Technology & Education 11, no. 3 (2018), 251-67, doi: 10.1386/jmte.11.3.251_1. [7] Inskip, Charles, Frans Wiering. “In their own words: using text analysis to identify musicologists’ attitudes towards technology” in Proceedings of the 16th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2015), 1-7. https://www.researchgate.net/ publication/291096095_In_their_own_words_using_text_analysis_to_identify_musicologists‘_attitudes_towards_technology#fullTextFi- leContent [8] Garwood, Deborah A., Alex H. Poole. “Pedagogy and public-funded research: an exploratory study of skills in digital humanities proj- ects” Journal of Documentation 75, no. 3 (2019), 550-76, https://doi.org/10.1108/JD-06-2018-0094. [9] Battershill, Claire, and Shawna Ross. Using Digital Humanities in the Classroom. London: Bloomsbury, 2017. [10] Cordell, Ryan. “How not to Teach Digital Humanities” in Debates in the Digital Humanities, ed. Matthew K. Gold. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 2016, https://dhdebates.gc.cuny.edu/read/untitled/section/31326090-9c70-4c0a-b2b7-74361582977e#ch36 about:blank https://hybridpedagogy.org/decoding-digital-pedagogy-pt-1-beyond-the-lms/ https://hybridpedagogy.org/decoding-digital-pedagogy-pt-1-beyond-the-lms/ https://www.briancroxall.net/digitalpedagogy/what-is-digital-pedagogy/ https://www.briancroxall.net/digitalpedagogy/what-is-digital-pedagogy/ https://www.oed.com/view/Entry/52611?redirectedFrom=digital https://www.oed.com/view/Entry/52611?redirectedFrom=digital https://doi.org/10.1108/JD-06-2018-0094 14 [11] Locke, Brandon T. “Digital Humanities Pedagogy as Essential Liberal Education: A Framework for Curriculum Development” Digital Humanities Quarterly 11, no. 3 (2017), http://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhq/vol/11/3/000303/000303.html [12] Katherine D. Harris, “Play, Collaborate, Break, Build, Share: ‚Screwing Around‘ in Digital Pedagogy, The Debate to Define Digital Hu- manities…Again” Polymath: An Interdisciplinary Arts and Sciences Journal 3, no. 3 (Summer 2013), 1-26. [13] Spiro, Lisa. “‚This is Why we Fight‘: Defining the Values of the Digital Humanities” in Debates in the Digital Humanities, ed. Matthew K. Gold. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota, 2016, https://dhdebates.gc.cuny.edu/read/40de72d8-f153-43fa-836b-a41d241e949c/sec- tion/9e014167-c688-43ab-8b12-0f6746095335#ch03 [14] Koh, Adeline. “Introducing Digital Humanities Work to Undergraduates: An Overview”. Posted on Hybrid Pedagogy (13 August 2014), https://hybridpedagogy.org/introducing-digital-humanities-work-undergraduates-overview/ [15] Howell, Jonathan. “When Technology is too Hot, too Cold or Just Right” Emerging Learning Design Journal 5 (2017), 9-18, https://digital- commons.montclair.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1020&context=eldj [16] Sayers, Jentery. “Tinker-Centrick Pedagogy in Literature and Language Classrooms” in Collaborative Approaches to the Digital in English Studies, ed. Laura McGrath. Logan, UT: Computers and Composition Digital Press, 2011, https://ccdigitalpress.org/book/cad/Ch10_ Sayers.pdf [17] Alonso Garcia, Nuria, Alison Caplan, and Brad Mering. “A Pedagogy for Computer-Assisted Literary Analysis: Introducing GAL- GO (Golden Age Literature Glossary Online)” Digital Humanities Quarterly 11, no. 3 (2017), http://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhq/ vol/11/3/000323/000323.html [18] Howell, Jonathan. “When Technology is too Hot, too Cold or Just Right” Emerging Learning Design Journal 5 (2017), 9-18, https://digital- commons.montclair.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1020&context=eldj. [19] Fyfe, Paul. “Digital Pedagogy Unplugged” Digital Humanities Quarterly 5, no. 3 (2011), https://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhq/ vol/5/3/000106/000106.html [20] Shaffer, Kris P. “A Proposal for Open Peer Review” Music Theory Online 20, no. 1 (February 2014), https://mtosmt.org/issues/ mto.14.20.1/mto.14.20.1.shaffer.php about:blank http://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhq/vol/11/3/000303/000303.html https://hybridpedagogy.org/introducing-digital-humanities-work-undergraduates-overview/ https://hybridpedagogy.org/introducing-digital-humanities-work-undergraduates-overview/ https://digitalcommons.montclair.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1020&context=eldj https://digitalcommons.montclair.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1020&context=eldj https://ccdigitalpress.org/book/cad/Ch10_Sayers.pdf https://ccdigitalpress.org/book/cad/Ch10_Sayers.pdf http://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhq/vol/11/3/000323/000323.html http://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhq/vol/11/3/000323/000323.html https://digitalcommons.montclair.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1020&context=eldj https://digitalcommons.montclair.edu/cgi/viewcontent.cgi?article=1020&context=eldj https://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhq/vol/5/3/000106/000106.html https://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhq/vol/5/3/000106/000106.html https://mtosmt.org/issues/mto.14.20.1/mto.14.20.1.shaffer.php https://mtosmt.org/issues/mto.14.20.1/mto.14.20.1.shaffer.php Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 15 IIIF-based lyric and neume editor for square-notation manuscripts Juliette Regimbal Gabriel Vigliensoni McGill University McGill University juliette.regimbal@mail.mcgill.ca gabriel.vigliensonimartin@mcgill.ca Caitlin Hutnyk Ichiro Fujinaga McGill University McGill University caitlin.hutnyk@mail.mcgill.ca ichiro.fujinaga@mcgill.ca Abstract In this paper we introduce a set of improvements to Neon, an online square-notation music editor based on the International Image Interoperability Framework (IIIF) and the Music Encoding Initiative (MEI) file format. The enhancements extend the functionality of Neon to the editing of lyrics and single-session editing of entire manuscripts and lyric editing. We describe a scheme for managing and processing the information necessary for visualizing and editing full manuscripts. A method of concurrently editing the position and content of lyrics is also discussed. We expect these will provide a better user experience when correcting the output of auto- mated optical music recognition workflows. Introduction Neon is a web-based music editor for square notation designed for correcting the output of optical music rec- ognition (OMR) workflows [1]. The project went through many iterations since its original release and currently uses MEI (Music Encoding Initiative) and Verovio1 as its underlying format and technology [2]. In this paper, we present the latest advances in the application. The main improvements are: (i) the use of the International Image Interoperability Framework (IIIF)2 to source the images and (ii) the ability to display and edit text in the page. Also, we propose a method of relating IIIF Manifests to MEI files. These refinements to Neon are motivated by actual musical needs. Using IIIF allows users to view the entire manuscript, as opposed to the previous page-by-page editing approach of Neon, which lacked surrounding context. Being able to edit text is crucial for chant in square notation because, like all neume notations, the music is composed to be sung. As a result there is a direct mapping between the neumes and syllables. Since the MEI Neume module is capable of expressing the link between these elements in a hierarchical fashion [3], we can visualize and edit text effectively using MEI. Section 1 Section 1.1 Musical works are best described in their original sources. For square-notation music these are manuscripts. High-quality images are necessary for processes like OMR, which rely on computers to create digital encod- ings, but are also necessary for human editors that cannot physically access the original source. Using images presents its own problems; an image representing a page can be well over 100 MB and ordering these images requires additional information. These characteristics result in a large payload to transfer for even one image where much of it is unused as humans need less detail to recognize musical elements than computers. 1 https://www.verovio.org/ 2 https://iiif.io/ 16 IIIF addresses this problem through its Image API (Application Programming Interface). It allows parts of an image to be requested at various sizes [4]. These sizes permit a IIIF viewer to request images of varying levels of detail based on how much a user zooms in. This can reduce download times for images while maintaining a consistent quality of user experience. The IIIF Presentation API provides information about the overall doc- ument including page order. We integrated Diva.js into Neon to display entire manuscripts with square notation. Diva.js3 is a IIIF-compli- ant document viewer written in JavaScript [5]. It is particularly suited for the purposes of viewing and scrolling through large manuscripts as it loads parts of images as needed. A metadata file discussed in the next section is used to associate MEI documents to their corresponding pages. After each document is associated with its corresponding image, it can be rendered and overlaid on the source page displayed by Diva.js. Section 1.2 One significant challenge in manuscript viewing and correction is the mapping of the MEI encoding the musi- cal content of a page to the image source for that page. This mapping must be determined quickly to reduce loading time and be usable with multiple sets of MEI files. Three approaches were considered to create these mappings: in the MEI files, in the IIIF Presentation Manifest, or in an additional metadata document. Ultimately the metadata document method was selected. The source description field of an MEI document can include information about the source image used to produce the encoding. Determining which MEI document corresponds to which page is trivial. However this approach requires all MEI documents to be loaded and processed before any data can be conveyed, adding latency to the correction or viewing process. The IIIF Presentation Manifest provides a means of adding annotations to documents that could be used to associate an MEI document to its corresponding image [4]. Since this information is provided in a document that must be downloaded for a viewer anyway, the additional loading time is minimal. However, the IIIF Man- ifest can only be changed by the organization hosting it and restricts the ability of people to add new sets of MEI files to a source or change existing files in any way that would require changes to the manifest. Using a separate metadata file for these associations proved to be the most suitable approach. This method forms a “Neon Manifest”4 containing the IIIF Manifest, defining the source and its pages, and annotations be- tween MEI documents and their corresponding pages. These annotations are stored as a JSON-LD5 file. Differ- ent metadata files can exist to represent the results of different OMR processes or different editors. The implementation of this separate manifest provides an efficient way to use a IIIF viewer such as Diva.js in an editor for square-notation manuscripts. Section 2 As almost all square-notation music contains lyrics, a lack of support for viewing or editing that information makes a square-notation editor incomplete. Since Neon operates as part of OMR, an ability to interact with both the text itself as well as its location on a page is essential. With lyric alignment approaches now being available for OMR [6] it is possible to include text and position information about lyrics in MEI. There are two main considerations for syllable text editing: how to encode it in MEI and how to display the information to the user. In the MEI 4.0 Neume Schema, text is segmented syllable-by-syllable. The text for each syllable is included in the <syl> element, which is part of a <syllable> element that also contains the neumes. A <zone> element associated with the <syl> element describes where the text would appear in the page. This facsimile information is already used to encode the layout of other musical elements in Neon. Neume editing can result in the neumes being grouped into one <syllable> element from many or split into many <syllable> elements from one. In these cases the text and location information of <syl> elements must be modified as well to reflect these changes in the encoding and permit manual editing. 3 https://ddmal.music.mcgill.ca/diva.js/ 4 https://github.com/DDMAL/Neon/wiki/Neon-Manifest 5 https://json-ld.org/ Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 17 Figure 1: Figure 1: An example of lyric bounding boxes being visualized in Neon. Each syllable, including both neumes and text, is high- lighted in a different color. If correction of the linking between syllables and neumes is needed, Neon provides a functionality to perform this mapping. Since <syl> elements must exist in a syllable and using multiple <syl> elements per syllable is redundant, it is guaranteed in Neon that each <syllable> element will have exactly one <syl> child. Figure 2: Figure 2: The text content of a page displayed in Neon. The syllables shown in Figure 1 are contained in a red box. To facilitate editing of neumes, the source image is overlaid with the Verovio rendering of musical symbols. With lyrics, this method does not provide similar benefits, because the appearance of letters vary from source to source and spacing between letters is inconsistent even within a page. Neon displays the text in a separate window beside the image. Partially-transparent bounding boxes are overlaid as shown in Figure 1 while the text of each syllable is displayed as in Figure 2. The bounding box corresponds to the information in the <zone> element associated with the <syl> element. Conclusion Square-notation music was written in multi-page manuscripts and represent pitches that are sung with lyrics. Support for multiple pages is provided using a IIIF Manifest file to supply information about the source images. With a separate manifest file relating specific MEI documents to manuscript pages, Diva.js is used to render the MEI over source images across multiple pages. Lyric visualizing and editing features are added. These convey the position and context of text in MEI and permit the user to edit lyrics while concurrently correcting neumes. The implications of editing neumes in MEI on lyrics are considered and resolved in the new version of Neon. Together, these features provide a more complete user experience. 18 Works cited [1] Burlet, Gregory, Alastair Porter, Andrew Hankinson, and Ichiro Fujinaga. “Neon. js: Neume Editor Online” in Proceedings of the Interna- tional Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2012), 121–26. [2] Regimbal, Juliette, Zoé McLennan, Gabriel Vigliensoni, Andrew Tran, and Ichiro Fujinaga. “Neon2: A Verovio-based square-notation editor” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Vienna, Austria, May 29-June 1, 2019. [3] De Luca, Elsa, et al. “Cantus Ultimus’ MEI Neume Module and its Interoperability Across Chant Notations” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Vienna, Austria, May 29-June 1, 2019. [4] Snydman, Stuart, Robert Sanderson, and Tom Cramer. “The International Image Interoperability Framework (IIIF): A community & technology approach for web-based images” in IS&T Archiving Conference 2015 (ARCHIVING 2015), 16–21. [5] Hankinson, Andrew, Wendy Liu, Laurent Pugin, and Ichiro Fujinaga. “Diva. js: A Continuous Document Viewing Interface” Code4Lib Journal, no. 14 (2011). [6] de Reuse, Timothy, and Ichiro Fujinaga. “Robust transcript alignment on medieval chant manuscripts” in Proceedings of the 2nd Inter- national Workshop on Reading Music Systems (WoRMS 2019), 21-26. https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?V1GGKH Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 19 Retrieving Music Semantics from Optical Music Recognition by Machine Translation Martha E. Thomae Antonio Ríos-Vila Jorge Calvo-Zaragoza McGill University University of Alicante University of Alicante martha.thomaeelias@mail.mcgill.ca arios@dlsi.ua.es jcalvo@dlsi.ua.es David Rizo José M. Iñesta University of Alicante University of Alicante drizo@dlsi.ua.es inesta@dlsi.ua.es Abstract In this paper, we apply machine translation techniques to solve one of the central problems in the field of optical music recognition: extracting the semantics of a sequence of music characters. So far, this problem has been approached through heuristics and grammars, which are not generalizable solutions. We borrowed the seq2seq model and the attention mechanism from machine translation to address this issue. Given its ex- ample-based learning, the model proposed is meant to apply to different notations provided there is enough training data. The model was tested on the PrIMuS dataset of common Western music notation incipits. Its performance was satisfactory for the vast majority of examples, flawlessly extracting the musical meaning of 85% of the incipits in the test set—mapping correctly series of accidentals into key signatures, pairs of digits into time signatures, combinations of digits and rests into multi-measure rests, detecting implicit accidentals, etc. Introduction We present a machine learning-based approach to retrieve the semantics of a sequence of (graphic) music symbols, which constitutes a central problem in the field of Optical Music Recognition (OMR). OMR is the pro- cess of converting the digital image of a score into a symbolic file encoding the music content of that score. The traditional OMR workflow consists of four stages: preprocessing, symbol recognition, music reconstruction, and music encoding. The third stage, music reconstruction, must retrieve the actual musical meaning of the graphical symbols recognized in the previous stage. So far, the models proposed to solve this problem are based on rules [1] or grammars [2, 3], which prevents their use in other contexts (e.g., in notation systems oth- er than the one for which they were implemented). For high scalability, we propose a machine learning-based approach which learns the semantics of a particular notation system by providing the model with enough training examples. We use an encoding introduced by [4] to represent the graphical and semantic information obtained by the second and third stages of the OMR workflow, respectively. This encoding provides an intermediate represen- tation that, during the music encoding stage of the OMR process, becomes a well-established music format, such as MusicXML, MEI, or **kern. Background Agnostic and Semantic Encodings of Sequences In MEC’2017, [5] presented the concept of agnostic and semantic sequential representations of a music score. The agnostic encoding represents the output of the music symbol recognition stage of the OMR, where we only have the graphical information about the symbols (their shapes and positions) and no musical meaning. The agnostic representation is a sequential encoding of the graphical symbols in the score (Figure 1b). Each token in the sequence encodes two types of information: the label of the symbol (e.g., C clef, quarter note, half note, sharp) and its vertical position within the staff (e.g., third line, fourth space). On the other hand, the semantic 20 representation is a sequential encoding of symbols in a score, which includes their musical meaning (Figure 1c). Translating an agnostic sequence into a semantic one involves several tasks, including re-interpreting a series of accidentals into a key signature and parsing the position of the notes in the staff into pitch values. (a) Music excerpt. (b) Agnostic encoding of the music excerpt. (c) Semantic encoding of the music excerpt Figure 1: Example of the agnostic and semantic encoding of a musical excerpt [4]. In [4], it was shown that sequential encodings are suitable for converting a digital image into either an agnostic or a semantic representation without human-encoded rules, with more robust results in the agnostic [6]. In this paper, we implement a machine translator that takes the agnostic representation of a sequence of notes in the staff and generates its corresponding semantic representation, in order to take advantage of the per- formance of the agnostic case for OMR. Translation Model Description The main task of the model is to translate an agnostic sequence into its corresponding semantic sequence. We used a “seq2seq” model, first introduced by [7] for machine translation. A seq2seq model consists of two parts, an encoder that maps the input sequence (in this case, the agnostic sequence) onto a fixed-dimension vector, and a decoder that builds the target sequence (here, the semantic sequence) from that vector. We added an attention mechanism, which has been used to improve the translation results by selectively focusing on parts of the input sentence during translation [8]. The attention mechanism allows us to visualize which tokens (graphical symbols) of the agnostic sequence affect the translated tokens of the semantic sequence. In other words, it can show us what the model is paying attention to when translating (Figure 2). Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 21 Figure 2: Attention matrix of the model when translating an agnostic sequence (horizontal axis) into a semantic sequence (vertical axis). Experiment and discussion We tested this model’s performance on the Printed Images of Music Staves (PrIMuS) dataset [4]. The PrIMus dataset consists of 87,678 music incipits from RISM encoded in a variety of formats, including the agnostic and semantic representations mentioned above. We used an 80:10:10 split for training, validation, and testing. We evaluated the model using the edit distance, which measures the number of operations (in terms of in- sertion, deletion, and substitution of tokens) needed for two strings to match. Given an agnostic sentence, the edit distance was computed between the corresponding semantic sequence in the dataset and the translated sequence obtained. The model flawlessly extracted the musical meaning of 85% of the agnostic sentences in the test set, correctly identifying key signatures, time signatures, multi-measure rests, dotted notes, and notes affected by notated or implied accidentals (see Figures 3 and 4). (a) Beginning of one of the incipits in the test set. (b) Agnostic encoding of the music excerpt. 22 (c) Semantic encoding generated by the model. Figure 3: Example of the translation of key signatures (green) and implicit accidentals (purple) by the model. (a) Beginning of one of the incipits in the test set. (b) Agnostic encoding of the music excerpt. (c) Semantic encoding generated by the model. Figure 4: Example of the translation of time signatures (yellow), multi-measure rests (blue), and dotted notes (purple) by the model. According to the edit distance values obtained, for 7% of the test sentences, only one error was made in the translation. One example of this is the sequence shown in Figure 2, where the last dotted note (coming from the agnostic tokens “note.quarter-L-1 dot-S-1”) is wrongly translated into a Bb instead of Ab. As seen in the at- tention matrix of Figure 2, when translating dotted notes, the translator pays more attention to the dot token than to the preceding note token. Similar to dotted notes, the model also pays considerably more attention to the last accident in a series of accidentals at the moment of parsing the key signature. As can be seen from Figure 6, most error-free sentences lie on the average-sentence-length region (the 18– 33 interval with the highest data concentration in Figure 5). Analyzing some of the examples with the highest edit distance values, some of the patterns found are the presence of a clef change, after which the translator’s performance consistently drops for all following tokens; and long sentences (of more than 35 tokens, lying in the right end of the distribution shown in Figure 5). Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 23 Figure 5: Length of the semantic sequences in the test set. Figure 6: Color density plot of the edit distance of all sentences in the test set. The color bar indicates the frequency of a particular (sen- tence length, edit distance) pair. 24 Conclusion Given its example-based learning, the model we propose is meant to apply to different notation systems provided there is enough training data. The performance in the PrIMuS dataset was satisfactory for the vast majority of examples. However, we plan to improve the attention mechanism to enhance its performance before tackling notation systems with more complex semantics (e.g., mensural notation). Other future work includes the substitution of the semantic representation by **kern, a well-established music encoding format that also encodes the music symbols sequentially for each staff. The advantages of **kern over the semantic encoding are that the former allows for rendering the encoded sequence in Verovio, and that there is technol- ogy already available to obtain more complex formats (e.g., MEI or MusicXML) from **kern [9]. Acknowledgements This work is supported by the Spanish Ministry HISPAMUS project TIN2017-86576-R, partially funded by the EU, and by CIRMMT’s Inter-Centre Research Exchange Funding and McGill’s Graduate Mobility Award. Works cited [1] Rossant, Florence, and Isabelle Bloch. “Robust and Adaptive OMR System Including Fuzzy Modeling, Fusion of Musical Rules, and Possible Error Detection” EURASIP Journal on Advances in Signal Processing, no. 1 (2007), https://doi.org/10.1155/2007/81541. [2] Couasnon, Bertrand. “DMOS: A Generic Document Recognition Method, Application to an Automatic Generator of Musical Scores, Mathematical Formulae and Table Structures Recognition Systems” in Proceedings of the 6th International Conference on Document Analysis and Recognition (ICDAR 2001), 215–20, https://doi.org/10.1109/ICDAR.2001.953786. [3] Szwoch, Mariusz. “Guido: A Musical Score Recognition System” in Proceedings of the 9th International Conference on Document Analysis and Recognition (ICDAR 2007), vol. 2, 809–13, https://doi.org/10.1109/ICDAR.2007.4377027. [4] Calvo-Zaragoza, Jorge, and David Rizo. “End-to-End Neural Optical Music Recognition of Monophonic Scores” Applied Sciences 8, no. 4 (2018), 606–29, https://doi.org/10.3390/app8040606. [5] Rizo, David, Jorge Calvo-Zaragoza, José M. Iñesta, and Ichiro Fujinaga. “About Agnostic Representation of Musical Documents for Optical Music Recognition” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Tours, France, May 16-19, 2017. [6] Calvo-Zaragoza, Jorge, and David Rizo. “Camera-PrIMuS: Neural End-to-End Optical Music Recognition on Realistic Monophonic Scores” in Proceedings of the 19th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2018), 248–55. [7] Sutskever, Ilya, Oriol Vinyals, and Quoc V. Le. “Sequence to Sequence Learning with Neural Networks” in Proceedings of the 27th Inter- national Conference on Neural Information Processing Systems (NIPS’14), 3104–12, https://www.arxiv-vanity.com/papers/1409.3215/ [8] Luong, Minh-Thang, Hieu Pham, and Christopher D. Manning. “Effective Approaches to Attention-Based Neural Machine Translation” ArXiv:1508.04025 (2015), http://arxiv.org/abs/1508.04025 [9] Sapp, Craig Stuart. “Verovio Humdrum Viewer” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Tours, France, May 16-19, 2017. https://doi.org/10.1155/2007/81541 https://doi.org/10.1109/ICDAR.2001.953786 https://doi.org/10.1109/ICDAR.2007.4377027 https://doi.org/10.3390/app8040606 https://www.arxiv-vanity.com/papers/1409.3215/ http://arxiv.org/abs/1508.04025 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 25 Editing Italian Madrigals in the Digital World: The Tasso in Music Project Emiliano Ricciardi Craig Stuart Sapp University of Massachusetts Amherst Center for Computer Assisted Research in the Humanities, ericciardi@music.umass.edu Stanford University/Packard Humanities Institute craig@ccrma.stanford.edu Abstract Despite the interdisciplinary nature of the Italian madrigal—a genre in which poetry and music often stand on equal footing—critical editions of this repertoire tend to focus primarily on the musical text, devoting limited attention to the often-complex philological tradition of the poems set to music. Likewise, most critical edi- tions are devoted to the works of a single composer—as opposed to settings of the same poetry by multiple composers—and thus offer a rather segmented perspective on the repertoire, which is not conducive to the study of musical traditions and to comparative analysis. This paper proposes a new model for critical editions of this repertoire, one in which musical and poetic texts are devoted equal attention. To do so, we will provide an overview of a digital project that follows this model, namely the Tasso in Music Project (www.tassomusic. org), showing how it draws on both musical (Humdrum, MEI) and textual (TEI) encoding systems to render the interdisciplinary nature of its repertoire. Introduction One of the distinctive features of the Italian madrigal is that it is as much about poetry as it is about music. Composers would often respond to the literary taste of their milieus by engaging in sophisticated renditions of poetry by notable authors, ranging from Petrarch to Marino. This poetry frequently had a distinguished textual tradition of its own, being widely disseminated through literary manuscripts and prints before it was set to music. This strong literary component is underrepresented in critical editions of the madrigal repertoire. These are typically devoted to the works of single composers—as opposed to settings of the same poetry by multiple composers—and feature critical apparatuses that rarely engage with the complex textual traditions of the poems set to music. This approach to making critical editions of Italian madrigals is a function also of the limitations of the printed medium, which typically does not allow for complex critical apparatuses encom- passing both the musical and the literary tradition. Furthermore, the printed medium has historically been resistant to collaboration between musicologists and literary scholars, which would instead be desirable if one were to engage with the interdisciplinary nature of Italian madrigals. Drawing on the possibilities afforded by digital encoding, the Tasso in Music Project1—the first complete edi- tion of the early modern musical settings of poetry by Torquato Tasso (1544–1595)—provides a different ap- proach to editing Italian madrigals and related genres. Indeed, the project is poet-centered and devotes equal attention to the musical and poetic realms, thanks also to collaboration between music and literary scholars. The goal of this presentation is to provide an overview of the musical and poetic repertoire under consider- ation and, most importantly, to illustrate the digital features that allow users of the Tasso in Music Project fully to appreciate the interdisciplinary nature of its repertoire. These features include musical encodings and ren- derings in Humdrum and MEI/Verovio, TEI literary encodings, and tools for the analysis of music-text relations. In doing so, this presentation seeks to provide an alternative model for critical editions of Italian madrigals, one that could be adapted also to other vocal repertoires. 1 www.tassomusic.org http://www.tassomusic.org 26 Repertoire Torquato Tasso (1544-1595) was arguably the most prominent poet of late sixteenth-century Italy. His works, most notably the epic poem Gerusalemme liberata (Jerusalem Delivered), achieved tremendous fame in literary circles, shaping the poetic culture of the time. Tasso’s influence extended also well beyond the literary realm. Indeed, his poems became a source of inspiration for visual artists and, most importantly, for composers, among whom they became true hits. From the 1570s through the 1630s, virtually all composers of secular vocal music in Italy and Europe, including notable ones like Luca Marenzio and Claudio Monteverdi, set one or more of his poems, producing a total of over 750 settings [1, 2]. Composers were especially drawn to Tasso’s lyric poems, collectively known as Rime, whose conciseness and wit reflected the taste for concettismo typical of the time and offered opportunities for equally clever musical renditions [3], but also proved fond of Tasso’s Gerusalemme and the pastoral drama Aminta, whose dramatic features resonated with a growing tendency toward quasi-operatic styles in secular vocal music around 1600. As is typical with repertoire from this period, however, the majority of these settings, over three quarters, have been unavailable in modern editions. As a result, this significant corpus of works has remained largely unexplored in both scholarship and performance, which has in turn hindered a serious assessment of Tasso’s influence on early modern musical culture. Funded by a three-year NEH Scholarly Editions and Translations Grant (2016–19) and scheduled for comple- tion in 2020, the Tasso in Music Project fills this lacuna through a complete digital edition of the extant settings of Tasso’s poetry. Carried out by a team of musicologists, literary scholars, and digital humanities experts from North America and Europe,2 the project provides open online access to one of the largest digital editions of early modern music, complemented by a rich literary component and tools for analysis. Representing the work of over 200 composers, the project provides a snapshot of secular vocal music in an age in which it underwent profound transformations. Accordingly, it lends itself especially well to comparative analysis and to the study of emulation among composers. Likewise, this corpus provides fertile ground for the study of music-text re- lations. Web infrastructure The website is created using a static site generator, Jekyll,3 and is hosted on Github Pages.4 Unlike other site generators, Jekyll is integrated into Github Pages. Therefore, the compiling of the website from source files oc- curs transparently and behind the scenes, allowing non-technical developers to edit content without the need to know how to regenerate the website from the source files. Dynamic content is rendered with Handlebars.5 This is a templating system that generates content on the fly within a user’s web browser, as opposed to Jekyll, which can only prepare static textual content. Metadata is stored as text files in the ATON format,6 which is then converted into JSON data in the user’s browser. This conversion provides lookup tables of the metadata used in template filling within Handlebars. An advantage of ATON over JSON is that there is less formatting structure, which allows for easier editing by non-technical users. In addition, it enables comments, so that internal documentation of the data can be contained within each metadata file. Use of Jekyll/Handlebars/ATON mimics the older, more centralized web architecture of PHP.7 However, it allows for a serverless implementation of the website, which enables better security, long- term stability, and rapid adaptation to faster generation of web pages, as dynamic content is created within a user’s web browser, rather than on the remote web server. The raw files are stored in a Github repository,8 and metadata is collected into a single directory/folder for ease of curation and long-term maintenance as a set of text files.9 Metadata for musical settings of each liter- 2 https://www.tassomusic.org/about/participants 3 https://www.jekyllrb.com 4 https://pages.github.com 5 https://handlebarsjs.com 6 http://aton.sapp.org 7 https://www.php.net 8 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website 9 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/tree/gh-pages/data/indexes https://www.tassomusic.org/about/participants/ https://www.jekyllrb.com https://pages.github.com/ https://handlebarsjs.com http://aton.sapp.org https://www.php.net https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/tree/gh-pages/data/indexes Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 27 ary genre is stored in separate files,10 and separate lookup tables are provided to minimize metadata redun- dancy in the data files, such as the composer index file11 and the RISM sources list.12 Initial entry of metadata is usually done using Google Spreadsheets, and smaller ATON metadata files such as the composer and RISM indexes are generated automatically from the spreadsheet files.13 Spreadsheet files could be directly loaded into web browsers, bypassing storage in ATON files, by using the TSV export functionality from Google Spread- sheets.14 This would simplify metadata management for non-technical developers, but loading data this way is slightly slower and is less stable for long-term management of the website, since metadata content would be dependent on an external source from the website. Musical editions The Tasso in Music Project provides newly made critical editions of the extant early modern settings of Tasso’s poetry, for a total of over 750 scores. A detailed description of the editorial policies (source choice, editorial accidentals, formatting of the text underlay, etc.) is available on the website.15 The musical scores are initially entered in a graphical music editor (either Finale or Sibelius, depending on the preference of the editors). Data is then saved in MusicXML and converted in Humdrum, which is the project’s main music encoding system. There are bugs and complications when exporting from both Finale and Sibelius. For instance, Finale does not correctly export elision characters, which need to be replaced with underscores. Sibelius does not correctly encode visual accidentals on recurrent pitches within a measure, which requires post-processing editing. MusicXml files are converted either individually using Verovio Humdrum Viewer,16 or converted in batches on the command line with musicxml2hum17 and then with tassoize18 to refine the music representation. Cer- tain musical features such as figured base are edited manually in the conversions. Figured bass is entered as lyrics in the graphical notation editors, and then transformed from lyrics to figured bass data within the final Hudrum encoding. Metadata from the ATON files on the website as well as original clefs and mensuration information are added in the final processing.19 Although the critical editions are encoded in Humdrum, the project’s primary and archival encoding system, they are available for consultation and download in a variety of electronic encodings and renderings, such as MEI, MusicXML, Musedata, MIDI, PDF and MP3 for use in var- ious software systems and applications. The final scores are rendered into graphical music notation using Verovio20 and displayed on work pages.21 Music notation is generated dynamically within the webpage, allowing for interactive notational features such as part extraction, highlighted notes for dynamic playback and searches, switching to original clefs/mensura- tions, removing lyrics, and collapsing the full score to an incipit. The graphical scores are rendered online with the JavaScript version of Verovio and displayed directly within the webpage as an SVG image, with additional conversion to PDF for downloading. Data links to Verovio Humdrum Viewer22 are also provided for online edit- ing of the scores, such as preparation for performance, with exports of Humdrum data as MEI or PDF files [4].23 10 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/rime-settings.aton, https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/gerusalemme-settings.aton, https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/aminta-settings.aton, and https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/other-settings.aton. 11 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/composers.aton 12 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/sources.aton 13 https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1YcaAQc-mxFFDWyOsT7HOlwZkEqB4rPEuOzXCMTKprMc/edit#gid=2068334514 14 docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1YcaAQc-mxFFDWyOsT7HOlwZkEqB4rPEuOzXCMTKprMc/export?gid=2068334514&format=tsv 15 http://www.tassomusic.org/about/policies 16 http://doc.verovio.humdrum.org 17 https://github.com/craigsapp/humlib/blob/master/src/tool-musicxml2hum.cpp 18 https://github.com/craigsapp/humlib/blob/master/src/tool-tassoize.cpp 19 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores/blob/master/bin/fillinrefinfo for inserting metadata, and https://github.com/ TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores/blob/master/bin/addoriginal for inserting original clefs and mensuration signs. 20 https://www.verovio.org 21 https://www.tassomusic.org/work/?id=Trm0047m 22 https://verovio.humdrum.org 23 A sample edition can be viewed at http://www.tassomusic.org/work/?id=Trm0862a https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/rime-settings.aton https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/gerusalemme-settings.aton https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/aminta-settings.aton https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/other-settings.aton https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/composers.aton https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/indexes/sources.aton http://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1YcaAQc-mxFFDWyOsT7HOlwZkEqB4rPEuOzXCMTKprMc/export?gid=2068334514&format=tsv http://www.tassomusic.org/about/policies/ http://doc.verovio.humdrum.org/ https://github.com/craigsapp/humlib/blob/master/src/tool-musicxml2hum.cpp https://github.com/craigsapp/humlib/blob/master/src/tool-tassoize.cpp https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores/blob/master/bin/fillinrefinfo https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores/blob/master/bin/addoriginal https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores/blob/master/bin/addoriginal https://www.verovio.org/ https://www.tassomusic.org/work/?id=Trm0047m https://verovio.humdrum.org/ http://www.tassomusic.org/work/?id=Trm0862a 28 Musical scores are stored in an independent repository from the website,24 which allows for a more stable long-term maintenance of the scores (for example, the website could be reimplemented in the future). Indi- vidual scores are stored by literary genre, with a separate digital score in each file.25 Filenames start with the Tasso in Music Project catalog number for automatic processing of the scores. The catalog number is then followed by title, composer, and publication data for readability and ease of data management. For example, Ruggiero Giovannelli’s 1588 setting of “Non è questa la mano” (Rime 47) is catalogued as follows: Trm0047m-Non_e_questa_la_mano--Giovannelli_1588.krn. Scores are archived in the Humdrum file format, with metadata pulled automatically from the ATON files into the scores and stored in reference records:26 !!!COM: Giovannelli, Ruggiero !!!CDT: ~1560-1625/01/07 !!!OTL: Non è questa la mano !!!PTL: Fiori musicali, libro secondo !!!PPP: Venice !!!PPR: Vincenzi & Amadino !!!PDT: 1588 !!!PUB-format: anthology !!!AGN: Madrigal !!!SCT: Trm0047m !!!SCA: Trm0047m !!!rime: 47 !!!original-voices: 3 !!!extant-voices: 3 !!!complete: Y !!!final: G Literary variants In addition to musical editions, the Tasso in Music Project features quasi-diplomatic TEI transcriptions of the poetic texts as they appear in the musical sources and in contemporaneous literary sources, both manuscript and printed. Variants in the poetic texts are marked-up and rendered online, facilitating a real-time assess- ment of the textual tradition. This apparatus caters to the research interests not only of music historians, but also of literary scholars and linguists. For instance, music historians may use it to assess possible relationships (or lack thereof) between settings of the same poem. A case in point is the madrigale libero “Tarquinia, se rimiri” (Rime 560), which was set by seventeen composers.27 Sixteen composers set a version of the poem in which the opening line reads “Mentre, mia stella, miri,” found also in two literary manuscripts (A3, E7) and in all lit- erary prints, attesting to the extensive lineage of this lectio. In a setting published in 1571, however, Ferrarese composer Luzzasco Luzzaschi set a substantially different version of the poem, whose opening line diverges from both the musical and the literary tradition, as it reads “Mentre l’ardenti stelle.” This case is particularly in- teresting because of Luzzaschi’s proximity to Tasso, who had joined the Ferrarese court in 1565. As Newcomb and Piperno have suggested, Luzzaschi may have had access to an early version of the poem that did not find its way into the later literary tradition [5, 6]. 24 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores 25 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores/blob/master/Trm/kern/Trm0047m-Non_e_questa_la_mano--Giovannelli_1588. krn. 26 https://www.humdrum.org/reference-records 27 http://www.tassomusic.org/variants/?id=Trm0560 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores/blob/master/Trm/kern/Trm0047m-Non_e_questa_la_mano--Giovannelli_1588.krn https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-scores/blob/master/Trm/kern/Trm0047m-Non_e_questa_la_mano--Giovannelli_1588.krn https://www.humdrum.org/reference-records/index.html http://www.tassomusic.org/variants/?id=Trm0560 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 29 Figure 1: Literary variants for “Tarquinia, se rimiri” (Rime 560) This tool for the study of literary variants can also point to possible manipulations of literary texts by compos- ers. A notable example is that of Monteverdi’s rendition of the madrigale libero “Al lume delle stelle” (Rime 246), which, as Tim Carter has pointed out, features two additional lines that do not appear in any of the extant literary and musical sources [7].28 28 http://www.tassomusic.org/variants/?id=Trm0246 http://www.tassomusic.org/variants/?id=Trm0246 30 Figure 2: Literary variants for “Al lume delle stelle” (Rime 246) The diplomatic transcriptions of the poetic texts and the marked-up variants are encoded in TEI, using a sche- ma developed specifically for the Tasso in Music Project by Raffaele Viglianti (Maryland Institute for Technol- ogy in the Humanities, University of Maryland). Like the musical data, the content for textual variants, too, is stored in ATON files.29 These are arranged by poem, with metadata and diplomatic transcriptions drawn from each literary and musical source for that poem.30 Below, for example, is data from the literary manuscript A3 for the poem “Tarquinia, se rimiri” (Rime 560): @@BEGIN: VARIORUM @CATALOGNUM: Trm0560 @ID: A3 @TYPE: manuscript @SMSIGLUM: A<sub>3</sub> @PAGE: 263v-264r @PARATEXT: @VERSE: {Mentre mia stella miri} {I bei celesti giri} {Il ciel esser vorrei} 29 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/tree/gh-pages/data/variorum 30 For a sample ATON file (“Tarquinia, se rimiri,” Rime 560), see https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/ data/variorum/Trm0560.aton https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/tree/gh-pages/data/variorum https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/variorum/Trm0560.aton https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/variorum/Trm0560.aton Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 31 {Perche ne gl‘occhi miei} {Fiso tu rivolgessi} {Le tue dolci faville} {Io vaghegiar potessi} {Mille bellezze tue con luci mille}. @@END: VARIORUM The @VERSE section of the entry contains the lines of poetry with analytic markup. The curly braces ({}) indicate variants regions across sources. All poem entries must contain the same variant markup structure. The entries are then compiled automatically into TEI files, with a separate file for each source entry in the originating ATON file,31 with each directory of TEI files representing one of the source ATON files:32 <?xml version=“1.0“ encoding=“UTF-8“?> <?xml-model href=“tassotei.rng“ type=“application/xml“ schematypens=“http://relaxng.orgns/structure/1.0“?> <TEI xmlns=“http://www.tei-c.org/ns/1.0“> <teiHeader> <fileDesc> <titleStmt> <title>Tarquinia, se rimiri</title> </titleStmt> <publicationStmt> <publisher></publisher> <availability status=““></availability> <idno type=“local“>A3</idno> </publicationStmt> <sourceDesc> <msDesc xml:id=“A3“> <msIdentifier> <region>Italy</region> <settlement>Milan</settlement> <repository>Biblioteca Ambrosiana</repository> <idno>I.149 inf.</idno> </msIdentifier> <msContents> <msItem> <locus>f. 263v-264r</locus> <p>miscellaneous codex, containing copies of 21 lyr ic poems by Tasso</p> </msItem> </msContents> <history> <origin> <origDate>16th&#x2013;17th centuries</origDate> </origin> </history> </msDesc> </sourceDesc> </fileDesc> </teiHeader> 31 Such as https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/variorum/tree/master/data/Trm0560. 32 Such as https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/variorum/edit/master/data/Trm0560/A3.xml. https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/variorum/tree/master/data/Trm0560 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/variorum/edit/master/data/Trm0560/A3.xml 32 <text> <body xml:space=“preserve“> <div type=“dedication“> <p xml:id=“p1“></p> </div> <div> <lg> <l xml:id=“l1“><seg xml:id=“l1v1“>Mentre mia stella miri</seg></l> <l xml:id=“l2“><seg xml:id=“l2v1“>I bei celesti giri</seg></l> <l xml:id=“l3“><seg xml:id=“l3v1“>Il ciel esser vorrei</seg></l> <l xml:id=“l4“><seg xml:id=“l4v1“>Perche ne gl‘occhi miei</seg></l> <l xml:id=“l5“><seg xml:id=“l5v1“>Fiso tu rivolgessi</seg></l> <l xml:id=“l6“><seg xml:id=“l6v1“>Le tue dolci faville</seg></l> <l xml:id=“l7“><seg xml:id=“l7v1“>Io vaghegiar potessi</seg></l> <l xml:id=“l8“><seg xml:id=“l8v1“>Mille bellezze tue con luci mille</ seg>.</l> </lg> </div> </body> </text> </TEI> The ATON and TEI encodings contain the same information, although additional information about the man- uscripts is inserted from separate ATON metadata files based on the manuscript ID. Note that line breaks in the @VERSE content are significant, and they are mapped to <l xml:id=”l1”> elements that contain each line in the TEI encodings. The variant markup, represented through curly braces, is mapped to <seg xml:id=”l1v1”> elements. TEI elements such as <l> and <seg> are automatically assigned IDs based on the line and variant number on the line, which are automatically calculated from the sequence of lines and variants within the source ATON data. TEI markup that cannot be automatically generated is embedded directly within the verse lines, such as the use of <del> to indicate deleted (crossed-out) text in the manuscript source. For example, the ATON line from the C manuscript source for “Tarquinia, se rimiri” (Rime 560) {<del>Ta</del>Tarquinia mentre miri} Is converted into the TEI content: <l xml:id=“l1“><seg xml:id=“l1v1“><del>Ta</del>Tarquinia mentre miri</seg></l> In principle, variant markup could be automatically generated. In practice, however, this could never become a closed system, since exceptions cannot be enumerated. Therefore, for the project, we decided on manual markup of the variants. The lines as they appear in each source are collated adjacently, enabling quick refer- ence and efficient variant markup.1 Below is the ATON file collation of the opening line of “Tarquinia, se rimiri” (Rime 560): ID:A3 L9 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:C L28 V1: {<del>Ta</del>Tarquinia mentre miri} ID:E1 L47 V1: {Tarquinia se rimiri} ID:E7 L65 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:F2 L84 V1: {Tarquinia se rimiri} ID:S8 L136 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} 1 For each line of Rime 560, see: https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/blob/gh-pages/data/variorum/diff-input/ Trm0560.txt Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 33 ID:S9 L155 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} ID:S11 L174 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} ID:S12 L193 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} ID:S13 L212 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} ID:S15 L231 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} ID:S20 L250 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} ID:S24 L269 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} ID:S33 L287 V1: {Mentre mia stella, miri} ID:S67 L305 V1: {Mentre mia stella, miri} ID:S141 L324 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} ID:S145 L343 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:S166 L362 V1: {Mentre, mia stella, miri} ID:S169 L380 V1: {Mentre mia stella, miri} ID:Trm0560a-Alto L398 V1: {Mentre l‘ardenti stelle} ID:Trm0560a-Tenore L417 V1: {Mentre l‘ardenti stelle} ID:Trm0560a-Quinto L436 V1: {Mentre l‘ardenti stelle} ID:Trm0560b-Canto L455 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560b-Alto L474 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560b-Tenore L493 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560b-Basso L512 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560b-Quinto L531 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560c-Canto L550 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560c-Alto L569 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560c-Tenore L588 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560c-Basso L607 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560c-Quinto L626 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560d-Canto L645 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560d-Alto L664 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560d-Tenore L683 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560d-Basso L702 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560d-Quinto L721 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560d-Sesto L740 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560e-Canto L759 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560e-Alto L778 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560e-Basso L797 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560f-Canto L816 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560f-Alto L835 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560f-Basso L854 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560f-Quinto L873 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560g-Canto L892 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560g-Alto L911 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560g-Tenore L930 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560g-Basso L949 V1: {Mentre mia stella [TACET]} ID:Trm0560g-Quinto L968 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560h-Canto L987 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560h-Alto L1006 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560h-Tenore L1025 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560h-Basso L1044 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560h-Quinto L1063 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560i-Alto L1082 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560i-Tenore L1101 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} 34 ID:Trm0560i-Quinto L1120 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560j-Canto L1139 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560j-Alto L1158 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560j-Tenore L1177 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560j-Basso L1196 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560j-Quinto L1215 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560k-Canto L1234 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560k-Alto L1253 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560k-Tenore L1272 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560k-Basso L1291 V1: {[TACET]} ID:Trm0560l-Tenore L1310 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560m-Canto L1329 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560m-Basso L1348 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560n-Canto L1367 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560n-Alto L1386 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560n-Tenore L1405 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560n-Basso L1424 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560o-Canto L1443 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560o-Alto L1462 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560o-Tenore L1481 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560o-Basso L1500 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560o-Quinto L1519 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560p-Canto L1538 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560p-Alto L1557 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560p-Tenore L1576 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560p-Basso L1595 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560p-Quinto L1614 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560q-Alto L1633 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} ID:Trm0560q-Basso L1652 V1: {Mentre mia stella miri} Since this poetic line reads differently across sources, the entire line is marked as a variant. Each line of the variant editing file contains four fields: the ID of the source, a line number in the ATON file for the poem that the verse line occurs on, the line number in the poem, and then the transcription of the line as it appears in the source. The line information is used to re-insert the edited variant text for the line back into the primary source file for the variants of the poem. In the final display of variants, as illustrated in Figure 1, hortographical and punctuation variants are auto- matically grouped together and counted as concordances: Mentre mia stella miri Mentre mia stella, miri Mentre, mia, stella, miri By mousing over a source in the right column, however, users are still able to trace the concordant readings of the text exactly as they appear in their respective sources, as shown in the figure below for literary print S20. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 35 Figure 3: Display of concordant readings by source Search tools Enabled by Humdrum, a music encoding system that is especially conducive to computational analysis [8], musical and textual searches can be run both at the level of the individual work and across the repertoire.1 The latter type can be especially useful for corpus studies, given the breadth and diversity of the project’s reper- toire. The results of the repertoire-wide searches can be ranked in a variety of ways, with links to the individual works in which the searched musical patterns (pitch, interval, rhythm) or text are automatically highlighted. 1 http://www.tassomusic.org/search http://www.tassomusic.org/search/ 36 Figure 4: Results of a repertoire-wide pitch search Figure 5: Results of the above pitch search highlighted in the Verovio score Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 37 Tools for analysis The project features several Humdrum-enabled tools that facilitate analysis of the repertoire, with an empha- sis on music-text relationships. For instance, a text-extraction tool allows users to visualize the text as it ap- pears in the underlay of the settings, with automatic counting of the occurrences of words.2 This tool highlights the importance of word repetition in this repertoire and allows users to quickly identify key words. Figure 6: Text extraction for Sebastiano Raval’s “La bella e vaga man che le sonore” (Rime 862) Likewise, a melisma tool allows users to study the occurrence of melismatic writing across the repertoire, ranked by composer or melisma score and with links to the dynamic scores in which the melismas are auto- matically highlighted.3 2 http://www.tassomusic.org/lyrics/?id=Trm0862a 3 http://www.tassomusic.org/analysis/melisma/ http://www.tassomusic.org/lyrics/?id=Trm0862a http://www.tassomusic.org/analysis/melisma/ 38 Figure 7: Melismatic analysis of Lodovico Agostini’s “Picciola verga e bella” (Rime 202) Figure 8: Highlighted melismas in the Verovio score of Agostini’s “Picciola verga e bella” (Rime 202) Equally useful for the statistical study of music-text relations is the ranking of the settings by their music/ text ratio, that is, a comparison of the length of the musical settings expressed in minims (half-notes) versus length of the poems expressed in number of syllables. This allows users to determine how rapidly composers move through a poetic text, or, conversely, how much they indulge in setting it to music.4 The example below points to a composer whose music-text ratio is consistently low, namely Filippo di Monte, whose Tasso settings stand out for their musical compactness, achieved by eschewing textual/musical repetition and extensive word painting. 4 http://www.tassomusic.org/analysis/syllable http://www.tassomusic.org/analysis/syllable/ Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 39 Figure 9: Filippo di Monte’s music-text ratio Due to limitations of processing all scores in a timely manner, the raw data for analysis pages is typically pro- cessed offline and can be seen on the website’s Github repository.5 This raw data is then transformed into more readable results on the analysis webpages.6 Conclusions Through its content, as well as through its digital features, the Tasso in Music Project benefits a wide audience encompassing music historians and theorists, literary scholars, linguists, performers, and more generally any- one with an interest in the intersection of music and poetry. In addition, the project provides a new model for editions of Italian madrigals, one that restores the centrality of poetry in this repertoire. The project also offers a model for the possible integration of music and textual encoding in a single platform, which could be adopted for editions and repositories of other vocal repertoires, ranging from opera to Lied. Our future plans for the project will focus on the expansion of its interdisciplinary scope through the development of additional tools for the study of music-text relations. These will include tools for the study of the relationship between the prosody of the poetic texts (accented and unaccented syllables, primary and secondary accents) and rhyth- mic durations, as well as the relationship between literary and musical syntax (e.g., the musical treatment of enjambments). 5 https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/tree/gh-pages/analysis 6 https://www.tassomusic.org/analysis https://github.com/TassoInMusicProject/tasso-website/tree/gh-pages/analysis https://www.tassomusic.org/analysis/ 40 Works cited [1] Ricciardi, Emiliano, ed. “Qual musico gentil”: New Perspectives on Torquato Tasso and Early Modern Music. Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, forthcoming. [2] Balsano, Maria Antonella, and Thomas Walker, eds. Tasso, la musica, i musicisti. Florence: Olschki, 1988. [3] Ricciardi, Emiliano. “The Musical Reception of Torquato Tasso’s Rime, 1571-1620”. Stanford University, 2013. PhD dissertation. [4] Sapp, Craig Stuart. “Verovio Humdrum Viewer” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Tours, France, May 16-19, 2017. [5] Newcomb, Anthony. “Texts, Translations and Commentaries” in Luzzaschi, Luzzasco, Il primo libro de’ madrigali a cinque voci (Ferrara, 1571), ed. A. Newcomb. Middleton, WI: A-R Editions, 2010. [6] Piperno, Franco. “La tradizione musicale delle rime di Torquato Tasso (1571-1581)” Ellisse 2 (2013), 25-63. [7] Carter, Tim. “From Diegesis to Mimesis (and Back): Monteverdi, Tasso, and the Seventh Book of Madrigals (1619)” presented at the Tasso in Music Conference, University of Massachusetts Amherst, April 17-19, 2020. An expanded version of the talk is forthcoming in Ricciardi, ed. “Qual musico gentil”, Brepols Publishers. [8] Sapp, Craig Stuart. “Computational Methods for the Analysis of Musical Structure”. Stanford University, 2011. PhD dissertation. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 41 Probstücke Digital – A Critical Digital Edition of Johann Matthe- son‘s 24 Probstücke of the Ober-Classe Niels Pfeffer Klaus Rettinghaus HMDK Stuttgart Leipzig University niels.pfeffer@gmail.com klaus.rettinghaus@gmail.com Introduction In 1731, Johann Mattheson writes in the preface to the Große Generalbass-Schule: “The complaint, however, which I made in the first edition of this Organisten-Probe about the badly printed notes, is still in its full strength, and patience is the only remedy.”1 Probstücke Digital is an open and critical digital edition project of the 24 test pieces of the Ober-Classe (“upper class”) by Johann Mattheson and as such an example for the use and application of MEI and TEI in an inte- grated environment.2 After almost 300 years it also seeks to finally give remedy to Mattheson’s complaint by editing his Probstücke3 and by providing perhaps a little more than merely “prettifying” the original print. “Incomplete notation” The musical material that is being edited consists of commented partimenti, unrealized bass lines, that are conceptually open and yet-to-be-finished drafts, skeletons rather than self-contained works, leaving a vast space for creative inventions of the performer.4 From a performer’s view, space is utterly important in the process of working with the Probstücke – space to sketch and to work out different melodic, counterpuntal or harmonic ideas or realizations of different com- plexity. Thus, one of the first goals of the present edition is to provide the performer with a virtually unrestrict- ed amount of space for the creative process. 1 “Die Klage aber, so ich in der ersten Auflage der Organisten-Probe, wegen der schlechten Druck-Noten geführet habe, ist noch in ihren vollen Kräfften, und die Gedult das eintzige Mittel” [1, p. 156]. 2 For aspects of combining MEI and TEI see e.g. [2]. 3 Already in 1965, Wolfgang Fortner published a modern edition [3] of the Mattheson’s Probstücke of the Mittel-Classe – a second vol- ume with the pieces of the Ober-Classe was announced by the publisher but never published since then. Fortner’s edition is of great practical use e.g. by providing an additional staves and by embedding all of Mattheson’s suggestions into the score. However, many of his simplifications do imply realizations that cannot be deduced from the original text. 4 In reference to [4, p. 68], we call this phenomenon “incomplete notation”. Already [5, p. 440] considered the Probstücke as “foundations of independent improvisation”. For a more recent study on the Probstücke, in particular on their pedagogical aspects, see [6]. 42 Figure 10: The first four measures of the 22nd Probstück as an example for the practical use of empty staves. This is made possible by the option of adding an arbitrary amount of staves above or below the original bass line.5 Readings, editorial regularizations and additions Although by now there are many digital edition projects on the web to be discovered, surprisingly many of them seem to use MEI only as a basis for an engraving with Verovio.6 The goal of this project is to provide a full critical edition in pure MEI and TEI7 with a correct encoding of variants in reading,8 editorial additions and regularizations, which require heavy manual encoding. The general approach of Probstücke Digital is to provide diplomatic transcriptions of both text and music, and letting the user choose whether or not to modernize the original – regarding accidentals, clefs, orthography etc. Figure 11: A passage from Probstück 1, as displayed with the options to show only original accidentals and to hide accidentals supplied by the editor. Figure 12: The same passage rendered as a “modern” score, without displaying the originally repeated accidentals and with cautionary accidentals supplied by the editor. 5 Technically achieved by performing an XSL transformation. 6 Verovio (https://www.verovio.org) is an open-source library for engraving MEI music scores into SVG. 7 The edition uses a slightly adapted TEI customization based on the DTA Base format [7]. 8 In particular the different readings of the Exemplarische Organisten-Probe [8] and Große Generalbaß-Schule [1]. https://www.verovio.org/index.xhtml Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 43 Other idiosyncrasies of 18th century prints can be perfectly addressed by a digital edition, e.g. by providing tools to automatically replace typographic peculiarities of 18th-century prints like the long s (ſ) or the umlauts with a superposed e (ue) as well as potentially unfamiliar clefs in the score with their modern equivalents. Where possible, these transformations are achieved using pure CSS, but as soon as more heavy interventions in the musical text are required (such as replacing ancient clefs) XSL transformations are performed on the original encoding. At the same time, many of Mattheson’s comments require an editorial supplement or explanation – may it be only the correction of miscounted bar numbers, pseudonyms that can be identified with contemporaries of Mattheson as well as hints on disputes and arguments of the time that Mattheson is referring to or was involved in, assuming the reader’s knowledge of these quarrels. Maximum of visible information In the common practise, scholarly music editions aim to provide a clean Urtext, that – from a performer’s per- spective – “bans” a large portion of the actual information on the text into a separate critical apparatus, which is barely looked into by a non-musicologist. Rather than hiding, Probstücke Digital tries to lay open as much information and material as possible at the spot.9 Lessons This includes the linking and presentation of additional material, such as transcriptions of oral lessons, theo- retical analyses, realizations and recordings. Lessons are encoded in TEI as transcriptions of spoken material. The transcription of a lesson given by Rob- ert Hill in Freiburg 2019 shall serve as an example. Figure 13: A lesson by Robert Hill on Probstück 4. 9 In that regard, some 19th century “critical” editions like Hans Bischoff’s edition of the Well-tempered Clavier ([9] and [10]) may serve as examples of a practise where all the information on sources and different readings are directly integrated into the score itself. 44 This transcription contains references between the spoken material and the score – as it is present on the score stand during the lessons – may they be explicitly pronounced or only implied. As soon as for the purpose of demonstration the harpsichord comes into play, a transcription of that particular example as well as an corresponding audio fragment is made available. Realizations Based on the idea that the Probstücke provide a canvas that can be filled with arbitrarily complex realizations, Probstücke Digital provides examples for such realizations. Since these may alter the original and deviate from it rather much, they are encoded as independent documents. Just like lessons, realizations can also include a corresponding recorded audio.10 Key characteristics Arno Forchert considered the demonstration of the advantages of the “new” system of major-minor-tonality to be the main purpose of the pieces of the Große Generalbaß-Schule – against the proponents of the traditional system based on modality.11 In that respect, Mattheson’s goal is to give two complete cycles of 24 pieces in all possible major and minor keys. Closely related to his thoughts on tonality are the characteristics of keys which he attempted to set down in the Neu-eröffnete Orchestre (1713) [12] – next to characteristics of all the meter signatures. Both are made accessible for each Probstück with an overlay on the key signature that displays Mattheson’s characterisation of that present key. Technically, these key and meter characteristics are edited as separate TEI encodings, which are included into the Probstück based on the on key signature and meter signature found in the <scoreDef>-element. Facsimile linking Furthermore, Probstücke Digital provides linking to and presentation of the digitized sources12 as either full- page facsimiles embedded with Mirador13 or as the extracted zone of a particular measure or paragraph. Figure 14: Example of a measure that is associated with the corresponding zone of the original print. 10 See e.g. the realization of Probstück 10. 11 [11, p. 205f.] 12 Utilizing the International Image Interoperability Framework https://iiif.io with images courtesy by the Bavarian State Library https:// www.bsb-muenchen.de/en/ 13 Mirador is an open-source, web based, multi-window image viewing platform https://projectmirador.org https://iiif.io https://www.bsb-muenchen.de/en/ https://www.bsb-muenchen.de/en/ https://projectmirador.org/ Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 45 These regions are encoded in the source files with the corresponding coordinates using MEI’s and TEI’s fac- simile and zone elements. When deploying, Probstücke Digital extracts those zones and turns them into IIIF annotation lists that annotate the digital IIIF “canvases” as provided by the Bavarian State Library. { „@context“: „http://iiif.io/api/presentation/2/context.json“, „@id“: „https://probstuecke-digital.de/iiif/2/annotation/measure-4“, „@type“: „oa:Annotation“, „motivation“: „sc:painting“, „resource“: { „@id“: „http://probstuecke-digital.de/view/2/mattheson/secondEdition#m-199“, „@type“: „dctypes:Text“, „format“: „text/html“ }, „on“: „https://api.digitale-sammlungen.de/iiif/presentation/v2/bsb10598495/can- vas/392#xywh=951,971,927,347“ } Figure 15: Above an example of a generated IIIF annotation linking a region on the facsimile canvas with the corresponding measure on probstuecke-digital.de. Indices Mattheson often refers to works by other composers or texts from older music theorists. A modernized bib- liography and names index based on authority controlled data will help scholars to find and get into those external sources and musicians to find links between Mattheson’s musical material and material of composers he regarded as exemplary and refers to rather often – such as Keiser, Telemann, Heinichen, Mossi, or dall’Ab- aco etc. Technical components14 eXist-Db is used as a database for storing the encodings as well as process- ing XSL transformations and XQueries. server-sideexpress.js in a node.js environment as a server and router between client and database. CETEIcean and Verovio for rendering the TEI and MEI encodings. client-sideMirador for rendering facsimile images. Licenses The complete edition is available under Creative Commons Licenses and all used software is available under free licenses. The complete software package and the edition are available on GitHub.15 We will examine what parts of our software could be useful to other projects and will release them independently eventually. 14 https://github.com/TEIC/CETEIcean. For more about CETEIcean see [13]. 15 https://github.com/pfefferniels/probstuecke-digital https://github.com/TEIC/CETEIcean https://github.com/pfefferniels/probstuecke-digital 46 Works cited [1] Mattheson, Johann. Große Generalbaß-Schule. Hamburg, 1731. [2] Viglianti, Raffaele, et al. “Visualizing Fedora-managed TEI and MEI documents within Islandora” Code4Lib 44 (2019). https://journal. code4lib.org/articles/14532 [3] [3] Mattheson, Johann. Grosse Generalbass-Schule 1731, neu hrsg. und bearbeitet von Wolfgang Fortner. Mainz, 1956. [4] [4] Sanguinetti, Giorgio. “A Partimento in Classical Sonata Form by Giacomo Tritto”, in Das flüchtige Werk. Pianistische Improvisation der Beethovenzeit, eds. Michael Lehner, Nathalie Meidhof, and Leonardo Miucci (Musikforschung der Hochschule der Künste Bern, Bd. 12). Schliengen, 2019 , 57–68. [5] [5] Arnold, Franck Thomas. The Art of Accompaniment from a Thorough-bass. Oxford, 1931. [6] [6] Dijoux, Jean-Christophe. “Matthesons Probstücke als Partimenti?” Schola Cantorum Basiliensis, 2013. MA dissertation. [7] [7] Haaf, Susanne, Alexander Geyken, and Frank Wiegand. “The DTA “Base Format”: A TEI Subset for the Compilation of a Large Refer- ence Corpus of Printed Text from Multiple Sources” Journal of the Text Encoding Initiative 8 (2014/15). doi:10.4000/jtei.1114. https:// journals.openedition.org/jtei/1114 [8] [8] Mattheson, Johann. Exemplarische Organisten-Probe Im Artikel Vom General-Bass. Hamburg. 1719. [9] [9] Bach, Johann Sebastian. Das wohltemperirte Clavier. Erster Theil. ed. Hans Bischoff. Hannover, 1883. [10] [10] Bach, Johann Sebastian. Das wohltemperirte Clavier. Zweiter Theil. ed. Hans Bischoff. Leipzig, 1884. [11] [11] Forchert, Arno. “Polemik als Erkenntnisform: Bemerkungen zu den Schriften Matthesons” in New Mattheson Studies, eds. George Buelow and Hans-Joachim Marx. Cambridge, 1983, 199-212. [12] [12] Mattheson, Johann. Das neu-eröffnete Orchestre. Hamburg, 1713. [13] [13] Cayless, Hugh, Raffaele Viglianti. “CETEIcean: TEI in the Browser” in Balisage: The Markup Conference 2018. https://www.balisage. net/Proceedings/vol21/html/Cayless01/BalisageVol21-Cayless01.html https://journal.code4lib.org/articles/14532 https://journal.code4lib.org/articles/14532 https://journals.openedition.org/jtei/1114 https://journals.openedition.org/jtei/1114 https://www.balisage.net/Proceedings/vol21/html/Cayless01/BalisageVol21-Cayless01.html https://www.balisage.net/Proceedings/vol21/html/Cayless01/BalisageVol21-Cayless01.html Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 47 MEI and Verovio for MIR: A Minimal Computing Approach Mark Saccomano Natalia Ermolaev Columbia University Princeton University m.saccomano@columbia.edu nataliae@princeton.edu Abstract While the increase in digital editions, online corpora, and browsable databases of encoded music presents an extraordinary resource for contemporary music scholarship, using these databases for computational re- search remains a complex endeavor. Although norms and standards have begun to emerge, and interopera- bility among different formats is often possible, researchers must devote considerable time to discover, learn, and maintain the skill sets necessary to make use of these resources. This talk will discuss our work with the Serge Prokofiev Archive and the creation of a prototype to browse, display, and play notated music from Prokofiev’s notebooks via a web browser. The project is an example of how using the principles of minimal computing can reduce the burden of technological expertise required to both disseminate and access encod- ed music. The archive The Serge Prokofiev Archive,16 housed at Columbia University, contains more than 17,500 diverse items: music manuscripts, letters, scores, financial documents, notebooks, photographs, and recordings. Originally a per- sonal collection amassed by Prokofiev’s widow Lina, the materials were first established as an archive in 1994 at Goldsmith’s College in London. As the archive grew, a complex, intricate, and item-level descriptive appara- tus evolved alongside it. By the time the collection came to Columbia, the archival items were accompanied by hundreds of metadata files in a wide variety of formats, including Word documents, spreadsheets, text files, PDFs, Endnote databases, Access databases, MARC records, and various XML encodings. Typically, archival collections are accessed through an online Finding Aid, which users often find not only difficult to use, but whose underlying structure and interface can obfuscate the richness of a collection. The blocks of narrative and long lists of items found in a finding aid, especially in a collection of our scope, are a barrier to true discovery. We sought to improve the experience of navigating a large archival collection by affording users the opportunity to make new, spontaneous discoveries. Our Serge Prokofiev Archive as Data17 project was guided by two important conceptual shifts in the library and archives profession. First is the “Collections as Data” movement, which encourages reframing the digital object itself as data [1].18 The second is Kate Theimer’s notion of “archives as platform,” a move away from locating value exclusively in the objects of a collection to the impact collections have on people and communities [2]. In Theimer’s view, the notion of an archive includes the tools and technologies that help users interact with it in creative ways that add value to their lives and experiences. Accessible technology and minimal computing Because we were looking for solutions that could be adapted for researchers with varying skill sets and with different computing needs, we tested out a variety of freely available software to store, structure, clean, ana- lyze and display our data. Also, we had no budget: necessity dictated that we seek out non-proprietary tools. Thus, we placed ourselves in the position of many researchers (independent and graduate student research- ers in particular) looking for ways to disseminate their work to a wider audience. Following this path, we soon 16 https://findingaids.library.columbia.edu/ead/nnc-rb/ldpd_10815449 17 https://mss2221.github.io/spademo/ 18 See also https://collectionsasdata.github.io/statement/ https://findingaids.library.columbia.edu/ead/nnc-rb/ldpd_10815449 https://mss2221.github.io/spademo/ https://collectionsasdata.github.io/statement/ 48 became introduced to the principles of minimal computing and discovered their applicability to our own proj- ect’s goals. Minimal computing19 is a design philosophy that seeks to maximize access to digital materials through reduc- ing reliance on specific hardware and software requirements [3]. Organized around the question “What do we need?”, Alex Gil describes minimal computing as a conscious effort to “harness the new media in smart, ethical and sustainable ways.” In addition to reducing reliance on multiple, and opaque, processes, minimal comput- ing also implies “learning how to produce, disseminate and preserve digital scholarship ourselves, without the help we can’t get [4].” This DIY approach helps minimize dependence on institutional resources and funding, as well as proprietary tools (which, in addition to their cost, often require a high level of expertise as well). One of the first steps we took was to avail ourselves of systems and workflows with ample documentation. We were also cognizant of the advisability for scholars to publish digital materials in a versatile format that requires little or no maintenance and can easily be ported to other systems. This way, digital materials remain accessible even as technology develops in ways that are impossible to foresee today. We soon created a re- pository for the Serge Prokofiev Archive as Data project on GitHub and created a static website for display on GitHub Pages using a Jekyll template. Because a static site does not require knowledge of server operations or database design, it simplifies the task of individual researchers to disseminate their work. For the musical component of our project, we wanted to create not only an attractive front end and simple user interface, but a simple back end as well. The idea was to provide a repository of encoded music that could not only be seen but heard—a difference that could make such a repertory valuable beyond the spe- cialized scholar in computing or musicology. Aficionados and researchers in other fields who may not be able to read code or read music could nonetheless hear the music in Prokofiev’s manuscripts—and could hear for themselves the jagged rhythms and unexpected chromatic alterations that are hallmarks of his style. We also developed a simple workflow for creating the encoded files (one very similar to the process now detailed in the tutorial “Introduction to the Music Encoding Initiative”20 by Anna Kijas and Raffaele Viglianti). To publish to the encoded materials, we used our GitHub website and Jekyll template. The notebooks One of the highlights of the collection are Prokofiev’s notebooks. Here, in an interview transcript from the ar- chive, Prokofiev’s widow Lina described how he used the notebooks in his creative process. SP never stopped creating…. At the most unexpected moment, at the most unusual circumstances—during a conversation or while walking—he would make a note of a new theme in a special notebook he kept in his pocket or on any scrap of paper or on his cuff—on paper napkins in a restaurant. Then on returning home he would copy the themes into a more permanent notebook. The sketches we display on the site are from these “more permanent” notebooks Lena mentions. We began by simply browsing through the notebooks and taking some pictures. Displayed in a web exhibit, these images would be interesting on their own. But we also knew that by adding the sounded music represented by these scores, we would greatly increase the usefulness of these notebooks to scholars, as well as to the general pub- lic. Not all musicologists and music theorists have sufficient musicianship skills to fluently imagine the sound of notated music. For archival materials such as unlabeled sketches, this can aid in identification of fragments, suggesting how and where they might have been used in published scores. MEI was chosen as the encoding format, not only because of its adaptability and increasingly common use in digital musicological projects, but also due to the availability of Verovio, an engraving library that can be used to display and play MEI files in a web browser. As these were short, handwritten passages of only a few measures each, they were entered manually into the music notation program Sibelius. (Because they were written by hand, an OCR program would likely not have been the most efficient method of encoding). Next, the files were exported to MusicXML using the export function of Sibelius. To convert the MusicXML files to MEI, 19 https://go-dh.github.io/mincomp/ 20 https://dlfteach.pubpub.org/pub/intro-mei/release/1 https://go-dh.github.io/mincomp/ https://dlfteach.pubpub.org/pub/intro-mei/release/1 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 49 we used the automated converter21 available on the Verovio website. This worked extremely well and yielded excellent results. The light editing that remained to be done was mostly for aesthetic purposes of display. The editing was done in Atom, using the MEI-Tools-Atom22 package, which renders MEI in a separate pane within the application. Once the MEI files were checked and polished, they were uploaded to the GitHub repository. The challenge, then, at this stage, was to create page templates that would incorporate Verovio. Although it took many at- tempts to pull everything together, the results were encouraging, and a prototype was developed that could display an engraved version of the score derived from a digitally encoded version of the manuscript, as well play the score in a browser using a simple interface: https://mss2221.github.io/spademo/sketches/ Implementation Development challenges proved to be formidable. While finding appropriate tools for coding, display and play- back of manuscripts was reasonably easy, getting them to work together was exceedingly complex. Documen- tation, though rich, can be dense; the largest impediment to timely progress is access to consultant who can assist in troubleshooting. Without this, the plethora of manuals and tutorials become an obstacle to learning, creation, and design. (Think of the myriad articles, tips, and guidelines many of us received back in March of this year on how to migrate our courses online—such a wealth of material can be overwhelming). Even with access to university assistance, this site took nearly a year to assemble. However, the skills to use Github and Jekyll are within reach via ground-up tutorials available from such sites as The Programming Historian.23 Difficulties still remain, specifically, those arising from technical solutions that push the limits of common browser capabilities. For example, problems with audio playback, such as web MIDI players clipping notes (due to possible buffering or threading issues) have driven developers on some projects to insert an extra musical object into their encoded scores.24 We also encountered this clipping problem, and were only able to come up with a temporary work around through a laborious trial-and-error process. To ensure the MEI would play properly in the browser, a <space> element or “dummy” <note> event with @visible=“false” had to be inserted before the first and final notes in order for them to be heard. Such inelegant solutions are highly undesirable for an archival representation of a manuscript. Presumably, improvements in how browsers and system players handle MIDI will soon make such workarounds unnecessary. In the meantime, these ad hoc solutions need to be specially commented in the MEI files. Extensibility and Future Directions Sample sites using MEI, Verovio and Ed template El corrido mexicano https://mss2221.github.io/corridosEd/ Serbian hymns https://mss2221.github.io/zagreb/ In order to test the extensibility of this project, we tried it out with texted music in a special Jekyll template for minimal literary editions, “Ed.”25 developed by Alex Gil and associates. The resulting sites showed the flexibil- ity of the Ed theme to handle some of the more complex requirements of Verovio and web MIDI, while still remaining a project that could be managed by a single researcher. They also demonstrate the utility of our chosen suite of open source tools for musicologists, music theorists, and music archivists. In the future, we 21 https://www.verovio.org/musicxml.html 22 https://atom.io/packages/mei-tools-atom 23 https://programminghistorian.org/ We are particularly indebted to Amelia Visconti for her Jekyll tutorial https://programminghistorian. org/en/lessons/building-static-sites-with-jekyll-github-pages 24 https://github.com/cuthbertLab/music21/issues/332 25 https://elotroalex.github.io/ed/ https://www.verovio.org/musicxml.html https://atom.io/packages/mei-tools-atom https://programminghistorian.org/ https://programminghistorian.org/en/lessons/building-static-sites-with-jekyll-github-pages https://programminghistorian.org/en/lessons/building-static-sites-with-jekyll-github-pages https://github.com/cuthbertLab/music21/issues/332 https://elotroalex.github.io/ed/ 50 hope to incorporate search tools for specific series of notes and an analytical component that could be used to identify the stylistic traits of a corpus. A note about program evaluation: one aspect of design that is often overlooked in digital musicology proj- ects is user testing. As noted by David Weigle in his study of the academic use of digitized online resources [5]: “the needs and behaviours of musicologists in particular remain relatively underexplored”. This is not just an issue in musicology. The statement made by Warwick, et al. [6] in 2008 (cited by Murray and Wiercinski [7]) rings true today in 2020: “User testing, like disseminating information, is a skill that most humanities scholars have not acquired”. However, as Murray and Wiercinski point out, a strictly user-centered development might restrict a project’s ability to make full use of nascent technology. For them, the ideal interface would “provide the more familiar and comfortable features that facilitate the types of activities that scholars know,” while af- fording new opportunities for discovery and experimentation “of which they are currently unaware” [7]. Until more research like Weigle’s is conducted on users in music studies, we can only note that all development is an iterative process, an attempt to anticipate needs, get feedback, address shortcomings, and get more feedback. In the meantime, having robust models that can be easily adapted for use by others is a positive step toward increasing access to archival materials. Conclusions While the raw data of much notated music may be ready to be downloaded for analysis, the high-level com- puting skills required to retrieve and analyze that data means that it remains out of reach to many. In order to make collections such as these more accessible, both the resources and the training for encoding, retrieval, analysis, and display of encoded music need to be made available to researchers. We would like our prototype to be a resource to scholars in music studies—an example of open data and code that will lessen the demand for technical expertise for both the researcher and the user, while demonstrating the functionality that can be added to a single site accessed through an ordinary web browser. As music OCR technology continues to become more successful at first-pass recognition, we will want to be prepared to make repositories available to more than just the technologically savvy few. With encoded music, the difference between a mode of access that involves scrolling through a list of text files and one that features an interactive display of scores and sound, is analogous to the difference between retrieving library materi- als through an institution with open stacks and one with closed stacks. Refining interests and homing in on relevant and interesting material are often the result of seeing a book on a shelf, opening it up and thumbing through it—reading a few sentences, checking out the TOC, skipping to the index, looking at the color plates in the middle. We don’t always need or want to engage with materials in this manner, but having the option to do so is invaluable. Works cited [1] Padilla, Thomas. “On a Collections as Data Imperative”. Conference Report. Collections as Data: Stewardship and Use Models to Enhance Access, Library of Congress, Washington, DC, September 27, 2016. http://digitalpreservation.gov/meetings/dcs16/tpadilla_OnaCollecti- onsasDataImperative_final.pdf [2] Theimer, Kate. “The Future of Archives Is Participatory: Archives as Platform; or, A New Mission for Archives” presented at the Offene Archive 2.1 Conference, Stuttgart, Germany, April 3-4, 2014. [3] Sayers, Jentery. “Minimal Definitions”. 2016. https://go-dh.github.io/mincomp/thoughts/2016/10/02/minimal-definitions/ [4] Gil, Alex. “The User, the Learner, and the Machines We Make”. 2015. https://go-dh.github.io/mincomp/thoughts/2015/05/21/us- er-vs-learner/ [5] Weigl, David, et al. “On Providing Semantic Alignment and Unified Access to Music Library Metadata” International Journal on Digital Libraries 20, no. 2 (2019), 25-47. [6] Warwick, Claire, et al. “The Master Builders: LAIRAH Research on Good Practice in the Construction of Digital Humanities Projects” Literary & Linguistic Computing 23, no. 1 (2008), 383-96. [7] Murray, Annie, and Jared Wiercinski. “A Design Methodology for Web-Based Sound Archives” Digital Humanities Quarterly 8, no. 2 (2014). https://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhqdev/vol/8/2/000173/000173.html http://digitalpreservation.gov/meetings/dcs16/tpadilla_OnaCollectionsasDataImperative_final.pdf http://digitalpreservation.gov/meetings/dcs16/tpadilla_OnaCollectionsasDataImperative_final.pdf https://go-dh.github.io/mincomp/thoughts/2016/10/02/minimal-definitions/ https://go-dh.github.io/mincomp/thoughts/2015/05/21/user-vs-learner/ https://go-dh.github.io/mincomp/thoughts/2015/05/21/user-vs-learner/ https://www.digitalhumanities.org/dhqdev/vol/8/2/000173/000173.html Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 51 Rehearsal Encodings with a Social Life David M. Weigl and Werner Goebl, Dept. of Music Acoustics—Wiener Klangstil, University of Music and Performing Arts Vienna, Austria weigl@mdw.ac.at, goebl@mdw.ac.at Introduction MEI-encoded scores are versatile music information resources representing musical meaning within a finely addressable XML structure. The Verovio MEI engraver reflects the hierarchy and identifiers of these encodings into its generated SVG output, supporting presentation of digital scores as richly interactive Web applications [1]. Typical MEI workflows initially involve scholarly or editorial activities to generate an encoding, followed by its subsequent publication and use. Further iterations may derive new encodings from precedents; but the suit- ability of MEI to interactive applications also offers more dynamic alternatives, in which the encoding provides a framework connecting data that is generated and consumed simultaneously in real-time. Exemplars include compositions which self-modify according to external contextual parameters, such as the current weather at time of performance [2], or which are assembled by user-imposed external semantics, such as a performer’s explicit choices and implicit performative success at playing musical triggers within a composition [3]. When captured, these external semantic signals (interlinked with the MEI structure) themselves encode the evolution of a dynamic score during a particular performance. They have value beyond the immediate perfor- mance context; when archived, they allow audiences to revisit and compare different performances [4]. Reviewing rehearsal renditions This capacity for capturing dynamic interactions with musical score supports reflection and introspection on the music rehearsal process. To demonstrate, we have built a Companion for Long-term Analyses of Rehearsal Attempts (CLARA),26 a web application allowing users to track performances as real-time MIDI streams. These are aligned with MEI encodings [5, 6] associating temporal positions along the performance timeline with corresponding note identifiers in the MEI. Repeats and expansions introduce some additional complexity, as the alignment process requires the score to be fully expanded. We have modified Verovio for this purpose to facilitate dynamic rendering of different expansions encoded within the MEI.27 Close alignment of performance timeline and score allows musicians to revisit and review their rehearsal renditions, simultaneously navigating a score and a corresponding MIDI stream. Notes highlight correspond- ing to the current playback position; clicking on a note seeks playback to the corresponding instant; and, changing playback position flips to and highlights the appropriate place in the score. This alignment of timeline and score further allows particular performance features (e.g. tempo curves) to be visualised, providing immediate feedback regarding corresponding stylistic and technical aspects of the musician’s rehearsal rendition (Figure 1). CLARA feature visualisations, like Verovio engravings, are generated as semantically structured SVGs, supporting in-browser interactions such as highlighting visualisation regions during playback, and clicking on regions to seek to the appropriate playback position. Beyond review of a sin- gle rendition, this enables systematic comparison of multiple rehearsals, e.g. by clicking on different tempo curves to listen in to their corresponding rehearsal recordings at the appropriate playback position. 26 Code and demo available at https://iwk.mdw.ac.at/trompa-clara 27 Code changes incorporated into the main “develop” branch of the Verovio GitHub repository at https://github.com/rism-ch/verovio/ at time of writing (February 2020). https://iwk.mdw.ac.at/trompa-clara https://github.com/rism-ch/verovio/ 52 Figure 16: CLARA interface visualising tempo curves for six renditions of Beethoven’s 32 Variations in c minor (WoO 80). Coloured tempo curve corresponds to currently selected rendition; colouration of tempo curve and notes indicates current playback position. The rehearsal companion as a social machine CLARA is a powerful tool for review of rehearsal progress, allowing renditions to be captured, gathered, and compared with fine granularity, thus providing insights on the evolution of performative aspects of one’s re- hearsals over time. Beyond this, CLARA supports comparison of different performers’ renditions. CLARA is implemented as a MELD (Music Encoding and Linked Data) [7] application; all alignment information is expressed as RDF triples,28 identifying each timeline instant with a URI and interconnecting instants with the MEI structure through frag- ment URIs. Timelines are gathered for comparison according to their URI’s inclusion within a Linked Data Plat- form (LDP)29 container, itself a simple RDF structure. A selected rendition can be shared by simply importing its URI into the appropriate LDP container; the same rendition can be included in many containers (potentially owned by different users), and one user may manage a number of different containers, each potentially in- cluding different users’ renditions. CLARA also supports the creation of Web Annotations30 targeting specified score regions and corresponding timeline intervals of selected renditions. These annotations are themselves RDF structures with their own URIs, meaning they too can be shared between different users. Through these mechanisms, we foresee performers tracking their own rehearsal progress; comparing their playing with selected peers; communicating with their teachers, through annotations and by comparison to reference renditions; and, incorporating notable pianists’ renditions into their comparisons, allowing a pianist user to attempt to emulate, say, the tempo curve of Claudio Arrau’s performance in their own renditions of Beethoven’s Appassionata. This work is being pursued as part of the TROMPA31 project—Towards Richer Online Music Public-domain Archives [8]. TROMPA is building an infrastructure interconnecting publicly licensed music resources on the Web, adhering to FAIR principles [9] of making data Findable, Accessible, Interoperable, and Reusable. This in- frastructure will support musicians in locating or generating MEI encodings of the scores they wish to rehearse, and coordinate the recording, alignment, and storage of rehearsals and annotations, allowing users to control the accessibility (public/private) of individual contributions, as well as incorporating others’ (publicly licensed) contributions into their own views. Beyond instrumental players, this data, expressed in interoperable fashion using web standards, becomes available for reuse by others—providing scholars with empirical data on per- formance practice (e.g., to determine a typical tempo profile of the Appassionata as rehearsed in the “wild”), or music enthusiasts with a landscape of renditions to listen into and explore. Together, we envision these technologies and their user base to function as a social machine [10] generat- ing an interconnected Web of music information in which “the people do the creative work and the machine 28 https://www.w3.org/TR/rdf11-primer/ 29 http://www.w3.org/TR/ldp/ 30 https://www.w3.org/TR/annotation-model/ 31 https://trompamusic.eu https://www.w3.org/TR/rdf11-primer/ http://www.w3.org/TR/ldp/ https://www.w3.org/TR/annotation-model/ https://trompamusic.eu Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 53 does the administration” [11, p. 172] — and, in our case, the music information retrieval. We are faced, how- ever, with a cold-start problem; in order to be attractive to new users, we require MEI encodings to rehearse, and users’ rehearsal renditions to seed comparisons. Within TROMPA we are addressing this issue through crowd-sourcing techniques and by recruiting participants at partner institutions.32 We will require coordina- tion with the wider community of music encoding and music information researchers and practitioners in or- der to fully achieve our vision of a shared, dynamic, and richly interactive repertoire of publicly licensed scores and performance recordings. Acknowledgements The TROMPA project has received funding from the European Union‘s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme H2020-EU.3.6.3.1. - Study European heritage, memory, identity, integration and cultural interaction and translation, including its representations in cultural and scientific collections, archives and museums, to better inform and understand the present by richer interpretations of the past under grant agreement No 770376. Works cited [1] [1] Pugin, Laurent. “Interaction Perspectives for Music Notation Applications” in Proceedings of the 1st International Workshop on Semantic Applications for Audio and Music (SAAM 2013), published in the Association for Computing Machinery Digital Library, 54–58. [2] Arkfeld, Joseph, and Raffaele Viglianti. “‘Fortitude flanked with melody’: Experiments in Music Composition and Performance with Digital Scores” in Digital Humanities 2018 Book of Abstracts, 2018, 315–17. [3] Kallionpää, Maria, Chris Greenhalgh, Adrian Hazzard, David M. Weigl, Kevin R. Page, and Steven Benford. “Composing and realising a game-like performance for Disklavier and electronics” in New Interfaces for Musical Expression, 2017, 464–69. [4] Benford, Steven, et al. “Designing the audience journey through repeated experiences” in Proceedings of the 2018 CHI Conference on Human Factors in Computing Systems, published in the Association for Computing Machinery Digital Library, 1–12. [5] Cancino-Chacón, Carlos, et al. “The ACCompanion v0.1: An Expressive Accompaniment System” in Late Breaking/Demo Session, 18th International Society for Music Information RetrievalI, https://ismir2017.ismir.net/lbds/Cancino-Chacon2017.pdf [6] Nakamura, Eita, Kazuyoshi Yoshii, and Haruhiro Katayose. Performance Error Detection and Post-Processing for Fast and Accurate Sym- bolic Music Alignment in Proceedings of the 18th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2017), 347–53. [7] Weigl, David M., and Kevin R. Page. “A framework for distributed semantic annotation of musical score: ‘Take it to the bridge!’” in Proceedings of the 18th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2017), 221–28. [8] Weigl, David M., et al. “Interweaving and enriching digital music collections for scholarship, performance, and enjoyment” in 6th International Conference on Digital Libraries for Musicology (DLfM 2019), published in the Association for Computing Machinery Digital Library, 84–88. [9] Wilkinson, Mark D., et al. “The FAIR Guiding Principles for scientific data management and stewardship”. Scientific data 3 (160018 (2016)), doi:10.1038/sdata.2016.18. [10] Hendler, Jim, and Tim Berners-Lee. “From the Semantic Web to social machines: A research challenge for AI on the World Wide Web” Artificial intelligence 174, no. 2 (2009), 156–61, doi:10.1016/j.artint.2009.11.010. [11] Berners-Lee, Tim, and Mark Fischetti. Weaving the Web: The Original Design and Ultimate Destiny of the World Wide Web, New York: Harp- er Collins. 32 MEI generated by TROMPA activities available at https://github.com/trompamusic-encodings https://ismir2017.ismir.net/lbds/Cancino-Chacon2017.pdf https://www.researchgate.net/deref/http%3A%2F%2Fdx.doi.org%2F10.1038%2Fsdata.2016.18?_sg%5B0%5D=5ZXsXcQ-AsAxIaB6yJXubw7KHky1Zv9haglClANLuXWk2rctFtP5gtYFKo9y_2r49Yri3R6epxT5geCvvAqsmmNqGQ.eEOIbiduhhUAOv8Os7V4UahXOrOqfC3uqBKi6WVmQYbx2wUlQQNvlHhxGkabfK2WoFinPkktFE-g2pOw4RCeqg https://github.com/trompamusic-encodings 54 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 55 MIDI 2.0: Promises and Challenges Paul D. Lehrman Tufts University paul.lehrman@tufts.edu Abstract MIDI, the musical instrument digital interface, is a highly successful protocol for conveying and, through the use of Standard MIDI Files, representing musical performance information. However, it lacks the ability to con- vey notation information. The newly approved MIDI 2.0 protocol gives us a chance to rectify that by including notation information in the next version of the MIDI File Specification. Introduction Outside of standard Western notation itself, MIDI is the longest-serving and most ubiquitous method of repre- senting musical performance. Its advantage over standard notation is its finer resolution in many dimensions. Its disadvantage is that it is not readable and interpretable in real time by human performers. The recently adopted MIDI 2.0 specification improves its resolution by orders of magnitude, and that it is still a work in progress means we have a potential opportunity to align it with other encoding technologies so that it can be used to represent music in human-readable form. MIDI and standard MIDI files The original MIDI 1.0 Specification, which was adopted in 1982 [1], was designed to enable electronic instru- ments from different manufacturers to communicate with each other digitally. Computer programmers were quick to realize that the data stream created by a MIDI instrument could be digitally recorded, and multiple data streams could be combined in a software program similarly to a multitrack tape recorder, allowing the creation of computer-controlled digital orchestras [2]. These programs, called sequencers, stored the MIDI stream in proprietary file formats, but by 1988, an addition to the MIDI specification created the Standard MIDI File (SMF), an open-source format for storing MIDI sequences [3]. Almost all makers of MIDI software, including makers of notation-based programs, adopted SMF as an alternative means of storage, thereby allowing users to bring sequences across multiple platforms, with minimal loss of performance information. But SMFs do not carry much information specific to notation. While the MIDI Specification itself has expand- ed greatly since its initial adoption, it is still very much oriented to performance. Most musical gestures are recordable and reproducible in a SMF, but notation elements are limited to time signatures, tempos, key signa- tures, and lyrics. Beams, stems, ties, clefs, bowings, articulations, expression marks, repeats, and many other features of standard notation are not part of the SMF specification, and thus the conversion of a notation file into SMF, although a feature of many popular notation programs, results in a significant loss of information that cannot be recovered. Advantages of MIDI On the other hand, MIDI has several distinct advantages over standard notation. For one thing, it is exquisite- ly precise. The timing or length of a note in a Standard MIDI File can be resolved to as little as 1/3000th of a second, or 0.33 milliseconds, which is the equivalent of a triplet 1/2048th note at MM=120. The dynamic level of the onset of a note, called “velocity” in MIDI, can be specified to be any of 127 discrete values. Expressive information, including volume changes, portamento, vibrato depth and speed, and timbral changes, can also be resolved to 127 values, with the same timing resolution of 0.33 ms. (Pitch bend resolution is even higher, 56 with 16,383 values.) Over 120 different expressive parameters can be controlled on each instrument in a MIDI orchestra using “continuous controllers” and other commands. Unlike performances of printed music, a MIDI performance from a computer sequencer will always come out exactly the same if the performer or programmer wishes it to—but although a MIDI file cannot be “read” and interpreted by a musician the way a printed score can, it can be manipulated offline or in real time in terms of tempo, instrumental balance, orchestration, mode, or many other aspects of performance. MIDI 2.0 From its beginning nearly 40 years ago until this year, the MIDI Specification has been labelled “1.0”. Although there have been many additions to the Specification, MIDI instruments introduced at the beginning of the MIDI era are still 100% compatible with instruments and programs being developed today—that is, although such early instruments will not recognize (and in fact will specifically ignore) commands that were added to the Specification subsequent to their introduction, their original capabilities remain completely viable. Earlier this year, however, after several years of negotiation among the industry groups responsible for su- pervising the MIDI Specification in North America, Europe, and Asia, a new set of protocols known as MIDI 2.0 was adopted. While care has been taken to preserve compatibility with MIDI 1.0 devices, the 2.0 Specification greatly expands MIDI’s capabilities for a new generation of hardware and software [4]. Resolution Primary among MIDI 2.0’s features are a greatly expanded feature set and greatly expanded resolution of mu- sical parameters. When MIDI 1.0 was introduced, 8-bit data paths and computer clock speeds of 1 MegaHertz or less were standard. Today 32- and 64-bit data paths are the rule, and clock speeds are several orders of magnitude faster in the multi-GigaHertz range. MIDI 2.0 takes advantage of these greater bandwidths by ex- panding the resolution of commands from 8 bits (actually 7, since the first bit is used to determine whether a byte is a command or a data point), to 16. This allows, for example, the possible value of a note’s velocity byte to be expanded from 127 points to over 65,000. Continuous controllers Another important feature involves the implementation of continuous controllers. In MIDI 1.0, controllers are “per-channel,” e.g., if an instrument is using a single MIDI channel to produce the sound of a brass ensemble, introducing vibrato or pitch bend affects all of the notes on the channel identically. MIDI 2.0 has the ability to apply controller or pitchbend information to each note individually. Rather than 127 controllers per channel, there are now 512 available controllers per note. The resolution of all of these controllers is now 32 bits: that’s over 4 billion separate values. The controller set is expandable and customizable, with the potential to have over 32,000 discrete controllers. Note messages The note messages themselves in MIDI 2.0 carry a lot more information. A note can have an “attribute” assigned to it, which can communicate articulation, like a string sforzando or pizzicato; position of a hit on a drum or cymbal; or pitch information totally independently of the note number, making it easy to construct non-tem- pered or real-time variable scales. Since pitch information and note number are now separate parameters, multiple notes with the same note number but with different attributes can be transmitted and understood. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 57 Channels MIDI 1.0 limited the number of MIDI channels addressable over a single cable to 16. This was in large measure because at the original data rate of 3,125 bytes per second, attempting to control more instruments than that would likely have resulted in delays or dropped commands. MIDI 2.0 does not use the extremely slow—by today’s standards—MIDI cable defined in the MIDI 1.0 Specification, but instead is “transport independent,” meaning it will potentially be able to use any common connection protocol. The first transport for the new protocol will be USB, but it is expected in the near future that other mechanisms including Thunderbolt, WiFi, and Bluetooth will be adopted. Freed from this speed restriction, MIDI 2.0 offers 16 “groups”, each of which has 16 channels, for a total of 256 channels per “cable.” And unlike MIDI 1.0, which has separate “In” and “Out” connections on each device, MIDI 2.0 is bidirectional. Hardware communication The other improvements in MIDI 2.0 are primarily on the hardware side. It introduces new technologies called “Property Exchange” and “Profiles,” designed to take advantage of this two-way communication. They are part of a new set of commands called MIDI Capability Inquiry, or MIDI-CI. Devices will include MIDI-CI “profiles” built into their operating systems. If two connected devices use MIDI-CI, they will be able to exchange important information about each other: their profiles will announce whether each device supports per-note pitchbend and controllers, how many channels or streams it responds to, how it handles controller commands, and what kind of instrument or device it is: a synthesizer, a silent keyboard, a sequencer, an arpeggiator, a rhythm com- puter, a mixer, an effects device, a lighting board, a video switcher, or even a drone. For example, in the world of electronic organs, although many instruments have the standard nine drawbars, different manufacturers map different MIDI continuous controllers to the drawbars; but if two instruments subscribed to an agreed-upon “Drawbar Organ” profile, files would have identical drawbar settings when transferred from one instrument to the other. Standard MIDI files 2.0 What remains to be written into the MIDI 2.0 Specification is how Standard MIDI Files will be updated to handle the new commands and resolutions. The Technical Standards Board of the MIDI Manufacturers Association— the volunteer industry group that oversees the Specification—is in the initial stages of developing a specifica- tion provisionally known as “SM2F.” In addition to implementing the new features of MIDI 2.0, this early stage of SM2F development offers an op- portunity to integrate information not strictly related to performance, and that includes notation data. Given the large bandwidth and open structure of MIDI 2.0, there is plenty of room for the exchange of notation data in all of its forms in both real time and as part of a file. While it is much too early to even speculate whether SM2F will address notation issues, it is worth noting that one member of the group working on SM2F is Mi- chael Good, the inventor of MusicXML, the expansive and expandable music notation file format that is the equivalent of SMF (1.0) in the area of music notation software [5]. Good represents the intersection of the MIDI community with the notation community, two bodies that previously have had little in common. Conclusion MIDI 2.0 is a major update to a highly successful technology that brings digital music-making up to date and opens up new means of expression and precision. The new Standard MIDI File 2.0 specification, which is to follow, represents an opportunity to include many musical features not available in the current Standard MIDI Files. Perhaps the ability to transfer both performance and notation information between applications and platforms could be among them. 58 Acknowledgements Special thanks to Rick Cohen, chairman of the MIDI Manufacturers Association Technical Standards Board, and former chair of the MIDI 2.0 Protocol Working Group; and Michael Good, Vice-president of MusicXML Technol- ogy at MakeMusic, Inc. Works cited [1] The Complete MIDI 1.0 Detailed Specification. Version 96.1. MIDI Manufacturers Association, 1996. [2] Lehrman, Paul, and Tim Tully. MIDI For the Professional. Second edition. New York: Music Sales Corporation, 1992. [3] Standard MIDI Files, (Recommended Practice 001). MIDI Manufacturers Association, 1996. [4] MIDI 2.0 Specification Overview. Version 1.0. Association of Musical Electronics Industry/MIDI Manufacturers Association, 2020. [5] musicXML FAQ, https://www.musicxml.com/tutorial/faq/ (retrieved 12 May 2020). https://www.musicxml.com/tutorial/faq/ Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 59 MusicDiff – A Diff Tool for MEI Kristin Herold Dr. Johannes Kepper Beethovens Werkstatt Beethovens Werkstatt herold@beethovens-werkstatt.de kepper@edirom.de Ran Mo Agnes Seipelt Beethovens Werkstatt Beethovens Werkstatt mo@beethovens-werkstatt.de seipelt@beethovens-werkstatt.de Introduction For musicologists, the collation of multiple sources of the same work is a frequent task. By comparing different witnesses, they seek to identify variation, describe dependencies, and ultimately understand the genesis and transmission of (musical) works. Obviously, the need for such comparison is independent from the medium in which a musical work is manifested. In computing, comparing files for difference is a common task, and the well-known Unix utility diff is almost 46 years old [1]. However, diff, like many other such tools, operates on plain text. While many music encoding formats based on plain text exist, formats used in the field of Digital Humanities are typically based on XML. There are dedicated algorithms for comparing XML as well,1 but they only focus on the syntax of XML, but not the semantic structures modelled into such standards as MEI. MEI seeks to describe musical structures, and the XML syntax is just a means to express those structures. A diff tool for music should focus on comparing musical structures, but not the specifics of their serialization into a file format. In Beethovens Werkstatt, a 16-year project focussed on exploring the concepts and requirements of digital genetic editions of music, based on and arguing with examples from Ludwig van Beethoven, a case-bound diff tool for music was developed. The following paper discusses how that specific tool can be generalized, and which use cases such a tool may support. VideAppArr Beethovens Werkstatt seeks to explore compositional processes from different perspectives. In its recently com- pleted second module, the project dealt with a number of Beethoven’s works that the composer re-arranged for other performing forces. For these works, printed editions of both the original works and their respective arrangements were fully encoded in MEI, following a rather plain style, i.e. no typographical or genetical details about the sources were preserved. Instead, an additional file per comparison with merely more than pointers to both source encodings was provided. With this data model, it is possible to automatically align both files and present them from multiple perspectives with an application called VideAppArr – the component dealing with arrangements within the (modular) VideApp.2 1 https://pypi.org/project/xmldiff/, http://diffxml.sourceforge.net/, https://www.oxygenxml.com/files_compare_img.html 2 https://videapp-arr.beethovens-werkstatt.de https://pypi.org/project/xmldiff/ http://diffxml.sourceforge.net/ https://www.oxygenxml.com/files_compare_img.html https://videapp-arr.beethovens-werkstatt.de 60 Figure 1: VideAppArr showing the “Single Note Comparison” of Beethoven’s op. 20 (top) and op. 38 (bottom). Most of these perspectives are based on the comparison of individual notes in three different “dimensions”: metrical position, pitch, and rhythm. Metrical position means that only notes sounding simultaneously will be compared. For pitch, octave and pitch class are evaluated independently, while rhythm is taken into account directly. Variation of these three parameters is organized into different combinations, such as notes in a dif- ferent octave, notes with different duration or other types of variation, but also notes which have an exact match. No attention is paid to beams and similar features, as they are mostly visual artifacts, which typically do not affect the musical structure. By intention, accidental aspects of the score such as dynamic markings are not taken into account for comparison either, as their high incidence may easily conceal the more significant substantial differences. Voice leading is also ignored by this comparison, as it would be misleading in the con- text of a comparison of rearranged works. Especially in a piano reduction, “voices” from multiple instruments are condensed in a way that frequently fails to show the same “melodic lines” for middle voices and others, so that the aspect of preceding and / or succeeding notes can hardly be made a default criterion for comparing two arrangements. Generalising VideAppArr to MusicDiff The data model underlying VideAppArr is a rather strict version of MEI, disallowing variation, editorial interven- tion, and other more complex concepts of MEI. While it took significant effort to ensure correctness of the encodings used in Beethovens Werkstatt, the generation of these encodings was straightforward in principle, as they were just transcribed from the original prints using scorewriting applications, and then transformed into MEI via MusicXML conversion. This workflow is all but unique, and we anticipate that numerous other projects create MEI files with about the same information value, though perhaps expressed in slightly different models of MEI. In the process of proofreading the files relevant for the second module of the project, it became apparent that the VideAppArr is actually very supportive in this task, as it consequently highlights differences of all kinds, even when some of which are not visible in a rendered score. This is particularly true for the correct encoding of gestural information in MEI, which in this context means sounding pitch affected by the general key signa- ture at the beginning of the piece, but not local accidentals. This observation led to the idea of broadening the scope of this tool beyond the original context of Beethovens Werkstatt, and to modify it so that users can actually upload and diff their own MEI files. While several of the Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 61 perspectives offered by the VideAppArr may be useful for this purpose, we intentionally focussed on the most simple diff view to begin with. This view has been condensed into a separate web application called MusicDiff.3 The following examples illustrate the use of this app for musicological purposes beyond the original scope of Beethovens Werkstatt. Example use cases In opera, the music was usually adjusted to local requirements, settings, and expectations. Pieces from differ- ent works were frequently integrated (in)to performances, which led to the need to create smooth transitions between those pieces. The research project “Pasticcio. Ways of arranging attractive Operas”4 explores such pasticcii. This includes the recitative “Ah Per te solo” from the pasticcio “Catone” by G. F. Handel, which was first performed in London in 1732. In Handel’s manuscript, two versions of this recitative are transmitted, one ending on G# major, leading to the aria “Care faci del ben mio” (E major), and one leading to the replacement aria “Sento in riva all’altre sponde” (A major). Obviously, the different key of the substituted succeeding aria required some adjustments to the music. Figure 2: Recitative “Ah Per te solo” from the Pasticcio “Catone” by G. F. Handel. Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek Hamburg Carl von Os- sietzky, D-Hs M A/1012, p. 187.5 Figure 3: Substituted recitative “Ah Per te solo” from the Pasticcio “Catone” by G. F. Handel. Staats- und Universitätsbibliothek Hamburg Carl von Ossietzky, D-Hs M A/1012, p. 184.6 Obviously, it is possible to manually compare the score images, and there are also tools supporting such an approach at least with musical prints,7 this approach doesn’t scale well and may take significant time when comparing works larger than these four measures. However, when looking at the rendition provided by Mu- sicDiff, the difference between both versions becomes immediately imminent: 3 Available from https://music-diff.edirom.de 4 https://www.pasticcio-project.eu/ 5 https://digitalisate.sub.uni-hamburg.de/de/nc/detail.html?id=1901&tx_dlf%5Bid%5D=22734&tx_dlf%5Bpage%5D=187 6 https://digitalisate.sub.uni-hamburg.de/de/nc/detail.html?id=1901&tx_dlf%5Bid%5D=22734&tx_dlf%5Bpage%5D=184 7 https://ehinman.edirom.de/ https://music-diff.edirom.de https://www.pasticcio-project.eu/ https://digitalisate.sub.uni-hamburg.de/de/nc/detail.html?id=1901&tx_dlf%5Bid%5D=22734&tx_dlf%5Bpage%5D=187 https://digitalisate.sub.uni-hamburg.de/de/nc/detail.html?id=1901&tx_dlf%5Bid%5D=22734&tx_dlf%5Bpage%5D=184 https://ehinman.edirom.de/ 62 Figure 4: Comparing encodings from both versions of “Ah Per te solo” with MusicDiff. A second example helps to illustrate the flexibility of MusicDiff, and why a regular diff tool would necessarily fail to recognize musical differences at the level of abstraction considered here. This example deals with two independent encodings of Grieg’s “Erotikon” op. 43, Nr. 5. One of these encodings has been made available as Humdrum file by KernScores,8 while the other comes as MusicXML file, derived from an original Capella transcription.9 Even though the origins of both encodings do not suggest this interpretation, one may wonder if these files share a history, i.e. if one has been converted from the other, or both have been derived from an (unknown) original encoding. If that would be the case, their content would probably be almost identical, with differences being caused by transformation loss (and thus highly systematic differences). In order to answer these questions, both encodings have been transformed to MEI, and processed by MusicDiff. 8 https://kern.humdrum.org/cgi-bin/ksdata?location=users/craig/classical/grieg/op43&file=erotic-poem.krn&format=info 9 http://www.hausmusik.ch/notenregal/g/grieg/klavierstuecke/lyrische_stuecke/erotik_edvard_grieg_/ https://kern.humdrum.org/cgi-bin/ksdata?location=users/craig/classical/grieg/op43&file=erotic-poem.krn&format=info http://www.hausmusik.ch/notenregal/g/grieg/klavierstuecke/lyrische_stuecke/erotik_edvard_grieg_/ Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 63 Figure 5: The last 5 measures of the lyrical piano piece “Erotikon” op. 43, Nr. 5 of Grieg (top: Humdrum file converted to MEI, bottom: Mu- sicXML file converted to MEI. Apparently, there is a small level of variation between both encodings, with only a small number of regular and grace notes being highlighted by MusicDiff. This seems to indicate that the original encodings have been generated independent of each other. However, this example perfectly illustrates how MusicDiff is able to overlook structural differences: The fact that the second version of Grieg’s piece is laid out on three staves does not affect the comparison. In the same way, MusicDiff is able to go over music written in chords vs. music written in voices, or, more generic, layers. Admittedly, other interpretations of what qualifies as variation are possible and equally valid.10 Keeping an overview While the collation provided by MusicDiff offers a very striking emphasis of the variation in the current view- port, this perspective does not provide a wider overview of the work in total – the user has to flip through all pages to get an impression of the distribution of differences between the compared encodings. In order to facilitate getting such an impression, Beethovens Werkstatt has integrated the concept of Sunburst diagrams11 into VideAppArr, and this feature has been carried over to MusicDiff as well. Sunburst diagrams visualize hier- archical data by concentric circles. On the outer ring, all measures of a piece are given, while the second ring denotes musical sections, and the inner ring reflects movements. The user may click on any measure, and the page holding this measure will be displayed. However, as seen in Figure 6, the measures may be used to provide additional information as well. 10 It would be certainly possible to include those different interpretations into the stylesheets underlying MusicDiff and let the user pick the “strictness” of the comparison according to her specific needs, but this would require significant work clearly out of scope for Bee- thovens Werkstatt. 11 https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sunburst_chart https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sunburst_chart 64 Figure 6: A Sunburst diagram for the comparison of Beethoven’s op. 20 and the rearrangement into op. 38 based on it. White color indi- cates identity between both versions, blue indicates variance, and red indicates difference. In this example from Beethovens Werkstatt, measures are colored depending on the comparison results. First, the saturation of a measure indicates the level of identity between original version and rearrangement –  a measure displayed in white is unchanged, while a colorful measure has a high degree of variation. In Bee- thovens Werkstatt, however, a distinction is made between variant notes (which still share the pitch class or duration with their counterpart) and different notes (which have no counterpart at their respective metrical position at all). While variant notes typically indicate local adjustments of some sort, differences in this sense indicate major compositional processes. While the first are indicated by blue color, the latter make use of red tones. Both colors may blend according to the ratio of their respective notes within each measure. With this mechanism, it becomes possible to get a very quick overview over the distribution of variation across all 288 measures of this example, and to navigate within the piece for closer inspection very easily. Technical setup, limitations, and potentials As mentioned earlier, the MusicDiff app is a stripped-down version of VideAppArr. It allows the user to upload her own MEI encodings. At this point, no validation happens while processing the data – it is upon the user to ensure that the input conforms to the schema12 expected by the tool. MusicDiff itself does not come with a backend. Instead, it utilizes a varied toolbox13 for converting between different music encoding formats, manipulating MEI instances, and other related workflows. It is based on TEI’s OxGarage and actually uses the same backend, gently adjusted to music needs. The user’s uploaded files are wrapped in a new file, and sent to MEIGarage, which runs a fairly complex series of XSLT transformations14 on the files, enriching them with various information needed to perform the actual comparison. The output is ultimately sent back to the user of MusicDiff and displayed there. This setup allows MusicDiff to be a rather lightweight application, which could be integrated into other tools quite easily. MusicDiff relies on the MEI profile developed for VideAppArr. This profile strictly requires a very simple use of MEI. While it wasn’t available at the time when work on VideAppArr was begun, the recent MEI Basic profile seeks to serve the same purpose: the definition of a strongly simplified and strictly controlled version of MEI which may serve as a common ground for interchange both within MEI (i.e., between projects relying on dif- ferent richer flavors of MEI) and outside of MEI (i.e., to simplify conversion with other, less expressive formats). As we expect significant uptake of MEI Basic, it seems sensible to modify MusicDiff to operate on this profile 12 https://github.com/BeethovensWerkstatt/module2/blob/dev/data/odd/bw_module2_works.odd 13 https://meigarage.edirom.de 14 https://github.com/Edirom/data-configuration/blob/dev/scripts/compare.files.xsl https://github.com/BeethovensWerkstatt/module2/blob/dev/data/odd/bw_module2_works.odd https://meigarage.edirom.de https://github.com/Edirom/data-configuration/blob/dev/scripts/compare.files.xsl Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 65 instead of the current one. As both have an almost identical coverage of MEI features, and merely differ in how they are expressed, this seems like a reasonable goal which will significantly help to improve the applicability of MusicDiff. Some more interesting features are available in VideAppArr, which haven’t been ported to MusicDiff yet. This includes the possibility to transpose the encodings to be compared to a common key, should they be written in different keys – the actual comparison is already capable of comparing encodings independent of the key they use, but it sometimes helps the user to bring everything to C Major / A minor for better legibility. Another feature already available in the underlying transformations is the possibility to omit one or more staves from the versions to be compared. That way, it becomes possible to answer questions like how the clarinet of ver- sion A relates with the clarinet of version B. Both of these features are fully functional in the underlying code, but don’t have a user interface in MusicDiff yet. We hope to add support for both these features in the near future. A significantly more challenging issue is a general limitation of the comparison scripts, which, at this point, require that both versions use the same number (and distribution) of measures, i.e. measures are compared according to their position in the piece. For the examples covered in the second module of Beethovens Werk- statt, this was a safe assumption to make, but obviously, this isn’t generally true. However, it is fairly complex to recognize whether two measures differ because of some variation between them, or because an additional measure has been inserted in one of the compared versions. While this is clearly an interesting and challeng- ing issue, we don’t expect to support this use case anytime soon, but may instead ask the user to submit a concordance of measures. Conclusion MusicDiff is a compelling tool for various use cases, musicological and beyond. It allows comparison of two files with encoded music scores, and will clearly highlight the differences between these encodings. In larger scores, it directs the user to variant spots using a Sunburst diagram. That way, comparing two music en- codings becomes significantly easier. This is especially true, because MusicDiff correctly handles differences between written and sounding pitches –  it resolves transposition and correctly considers key signatures. It also puts aside visual structures and artifacts to some degree, and thus helps to focus on “real” differences. This requires MusicDiff to be a tool guided by certain concepts – it implements Beethovens Werkstatt’s model of identity and variation, which may or may not apply equally well to other contexts. Being released under an open license, however, it can be adjusted to other concepts. Even as it stands, MusicDiff is the authoritative tool for a semantic comparison of encoded music scores. Work Cited [1] Hunt, James W., and M. Douglas McIlroy. “An Algorithm for Differential File Comparison”. Computing Science Technical Report, Bell Laboratories (June 1976). 66 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 67 Beethovens Werkstatt on the Test Bench Salome Obert Department of Musicology Detmold/Paderborn Oberts@campus.uni-paderborn.de Abstract In my master thesis I am working on the analysis of scriptural problems, trying to discuss the chronology of Ludwig van Beethoven’s entries in the autograph of his Flohlied op. 75, no. 3. This is in order to examine the efficiency of the so-called VideApp of the research project Beethovens Werkstatt which studies sketches and manuscripts of Beethoven by combining methods of genetic criticism and digital edition. Introduction The research project Beethovens Werkstatt studies sketches and manuscripts of Ludwig van Beethoven by com- bining methods of genetic criticism and digital edition.1 It is a joint project located at the Beethoven-Haus Bonn and the Department of Musicology Detmold/Paderborn, and is funded by the Academy of Sciences and Literature Mainz. It started in 2014. In the first of its five modules, which took until 2016, the project focussed on the description of Beethoven’s revision processes in several manuscripts of different genres. Several tools to show various layers of the compositional process as well as a reconstruction of a piece’s chronology have been developed in the project. Additionally, a terminological base was formed with a glossary, which is still constantly refined. The project’s so-called VideApp2 is an example of an open access-web application which was developed during the first module. It combines a digital presentation of the composer’s manuscript via MEI-data (representing the musical text) with SVG-shapes (marking the content of the document itself). Additionally, the VideApp gives a description of the sources, an overview of current research and a detailed analysis of textual genesis and of compositional chronology – not only verbally but also in a synoptic visualization of the source, its transcription and corresponding MEI-data. The different methods and forms of representation which were worked out in this way should be transferable both to other compositions and other composers. In my master thesis I probe whether Beethovens Werkstatt can keep the promise of the VideApp’s transfer- ability by studying Beethoven’s Flohlied op. 75, no. 3. The song’s autograph (D-BNba, NE 220) was presumed to be lost; for this reason, it could not be taken into account for the ‘Beethoven Gesamtausgabe’ in 1990. Only in 1998 the manuscript was bought from private hands and brought to the public with a facsimile edition by Helga Lühning, who explains that the manuscript is probably an autograph transcription which served as en- graver’s model [1, p. 37]. On different levels, Beethoven did his typical corrections like cancellations, overwrit- ing, and he used different writing media and jump marks, all of which were described by Lühning in her edition. Figure 1 gives an exemplary impression of the manuscript. 1 Beethovens Werkstatt (2020). Beethoven-Haus Bonn, Musikwissenschaftliches Seminar Detmold/Paderborn. https://www.beethov- ens-werkstatt.de 2 Recently the project decided to name all web applications which are developed during the modules VideApp. Different suffixes specify the modules focuses’. The suffix ‘Var’ refers to the first module’s focus on Variants. https://www.beethovens-werkstatt.de https://www.beethovens-werkstatt.de 68 Figure 1: Beethoven op. 75, no. 3 Flohlied. Autograph D-BNba, NE 220, p. 5. A scriptual analysis Beethoven’s Flohlied Guiding questions and methods In my own approach I describe the source verbally and analyse some parts in which the writing flow was inter- rupted and modifications were added – Beethovens Werkstatt calls such areas ‘Textnarben’ (i.e. ‘textual scars’). The analysis does not include technical examinations of the paper, but only a scriptural analysis trying to dis- cuss the chronology of Beethoven’s entries. For this purpose, I discuss the following questions: • Are there musical reasons for explaining a modification, referring to harmonic, melodic, rhythmic or lyric aspects? • Are there non-musical reasons which explain a modification, for example additional hints for a copyist? • Into which categories could we classify Beethoven’s entries? In reconstructing the compositional chronology I use the same methods as the VideApp. Besides a verbal description of the piece’s scriptural state, I will model its text in MEI and generate SVG-shapes by tracing the manuscript’s digitization on a graphic tablet. At the moment I am creating SVG-shapes by tracing each entry in the manuscript’s digital images with the aid of a graphic tablet. From this working process I am presenting now two examples of textual scars in Bee- thoven’s Flohlied which I examined already. Two examples of textual scars The first textual scar is located on the second page of the autograph. It belongs to the third strophe. In Kurrent script Beethoven wrote the word ge=stochen (which means biten [by a flea]). At the first syllable the letter G is written two times: once as a capital and once more as a small letter which can be seen in Figure 2. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 69 Figure 2: Beethoven op. 75, no. 3 Flohlied. Autograph D-BNba NE 220, p. 3. A possible explanation could be that Beethoven started the word with a capital and stopped while realizing the word has to be written with a small letter. So, he corrected the capital into a small letter and continued writ- ing the word. Another explanation is that Beethoven wrote the whole syllable starting with a small letter and changed it afterwards into a capital letter. In this way, Beethoven could have marked the begin of a new verse. The second hypothesis is more obvious because all new verses begin with a capital letter. Furthermore on the next page we find two more similar corrections. In general, Beethoven used the same orthography and punc- tuation as in the printed version of Goethe’s poem which can be considered a reverence to the poet [1, p. 38]. The second textual scar is on the penultimate page in the piano part. In the bass voice Alberti basses are noted in four groups of semiquavers. According to the time signature of 2/4 two semiquaver groups are too much here. Beethoven cancelled the first and third group of semiquavers. To understand which kind of com- positional problem Beethoven tried to solve here, it is necessary to have a look at the piano’s upper part as well (see Figure 3). Figure 3: Beethoven op. 75, no. 3 Flohlied. Autograph D-BNba NE 220, p. 7, first measure. The cancelled semiquavers are written directly below the right hand which is an indication that Beethoven cancelled the bass voice after having written both the upper and the bass voice. Probably he saw an error in the accompaniment, cancelled the semiquaver groups and set two new groups of semiquavers to correct the error. But what kind of error did Beethoven see? If the cancelled passage would sound simultaneously with the upper part, sharp dissonances would result not only within the piano part (e.g. b’’ flat – b natural on the first beat) but also with the voice part (b’ flat). Therefore it is helpful to have a look at the previous and the following measure in which the harmonies which are identical with the cancelled part of the bar shown above really sound consonant (see Figure 4 and 5). 70 Figure 4: Figure 4: Beethoven op. 75, no. 3 Flohlied. Autograph D-BNba, NE 220, p. 6, last measure. Figure 5: Figure 5: Beethoven op. 75, no. 3 Flohlied. Autograph D-BNba, NE 220, p. 7, first and second measure. In starting to write on a new page (with the bar in Figure 3), probably Beethoven was wrong about the correct place in which the harmonical phrase was to be repeated – which was actually only in the following measure (see Figure 5). This is a typical mistake in a copying process – so judging from this mistake it is most likely that Beethoven copied this song from an already existing draft or manuscript [1, p. 38]. Conclusion The results of my master thesis, presented with the aid of the VideApp, help to understand the compositional process of Beethoven’s Flohlied, but also approve the VideApp’s transferability and verify generally that the VideApp can show those compositional processes adequately. At the same time my work hints at details where improvements should be made in order to facilitate a better understanding of the genetic processes. Besides the discussion of the Flohlied itself, I will identify limitations of the current software, especially with regard to re-using it with custom data, and propose simple revisions and additions, which may still make a big difference for an average user with less access to the original developers. Work cited [1] Ludwig van Beethoven. Drei Lieder nach Gedichten von Goethe. Facsimile. With a commentary by Helga Lühning. Bonn, 1999. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 71 Figured Bass Encodings for Bach Chorales in Various Symbolic Formats: A Case Study Yaolong Ju Sylvain Margot McGill University McGill University yaolong.ju@mail.mcgill.ca sylvain.margot@mail.mcgill.ca Cory McKay Ichiro Fujinaga Marianopolis College McGill University cory.mckay@mail.mcgill.ca ichiro.fujinaga@mcgill.ca Abstract The computational study of figured bass remains an under-researched topic, likely due to the lack of ma- chine-readable datasets. This paper is intended to address the paucity of digital figured bass data by 1) inves- tigating procedures for systematically annotating symbolic music files with figured bass, and 2) producing and releasing a model annotated dataset as an illustration of how these procedures can be applied in practice. We introduce the Bach Chorales Figured Bass dataset, which includes 103 chorales composed by Johann Sebas- tian Bach that includes both the original music and figured bass annotations encoded in MusicXML, **kern, and MEI formats. Introduction Figured bass (FB) is a type of music notation that uses numerals and other symbols to indicate intervals to be played relative to a bass note [1]. FB was commonly used in Baroque music, and served as a guide to keyboards, strings, and other instruments improvising the basso continuo accompaniment. Not only does FB serve as a guideline for performers, it also reveals insights into the chords and harmonic rhythm intended by composers, beyond what is readily available in the notes themselves. Encoding figured bass Despite its seeming simplicity, encoding FB is not a trivial task. This section investigates (A) the extent to which musicXML, **kern, and MEI support FB, and (B) how well FB annotations are preserved when translating from one symbolic format to another. Although the majority of FB consists only of numerals and accidentals, our examination of the Bach chorales in the Neue Bach Ausgabe (NBA) critical edition [2] revealed three additional types of notation: 1. figures with slashes (augmented or diminished intervals), e.g.: 2. figures with continuation lines (prolongation of the harmony), e.g.: 3. multiple figures over a stationary bass, e.g., 6–5 over the same bass note, e.g.: We chose BWV 33.61 as the basis for a case study on how well these types of notation can be encoded and translated, as it contains all three of these elements. We used MuseScore (v.3.3.2) to encode2 the FB in musicX- 1 We referred to the Neue Bach Ausgabe (NBA) critical edition [2] for FB encodings. 2 All the encoded symbolic files are available at https://github.com/juyaolongpaul/Bach_chorale_FB/tree/master/FB_source. We chose GitHub because of its capability of version control. mailto:yaolong.ju@mail.mcgill.ca mailto:sylvain.margot@mail.mcgill.ca mailto:cory.mckay@mail.mcgill.ca mailto:ichiro.fujinaga@mcgill.ca https://github.com/juyaolongpaul/Bach_chorale_FB/tree/master/FB_source 72 ML,3 and a text editor for **kern4 and MEI.5 No problems were encountered encoding but there were some issues translating between the three formats. In general, the standard FB notation (numbers and accidentals) were properly preserved when translating between the three file formats, except for MEI to musicXML or to **kern, where all FB information was lost in both cases. There were also some additional issues with the three special types of notation introduced above as shown in Table 1 and described in more detail below. musicXML **kern MEI musicXML musicxml2hum (1): yes (2): no (3): yes Verovio (1): no (2): no (3): no **kern hum2xml (1): no (2): no (3): no Verovio (1): partially yes (2): yes (3): yes MEI music21 (1): no (2): no (3): no mei2hum (1): no (2): no (3): no Table 1: The results of the file translation for special cases. The first column indicates the original format, and subsequent columns indicate target formats. We examined the FB elements (1) to (3) mentioned above. The first row of each cell indicates the software used for the translation [3]. “Yes” means the translation was successful. MusicXML to **kern (musicxml2hum)6: (2) the continuation line could not be translated, and the resulting **kern file had syntactical errors. Translations worked for chorales with no continuation line. MusicXML to MEI (Verovio)7: (1) accidentals and slashes were all missing; (2) continuation lines were missing; (3) although all figures were preserved, they all shared the same “tstamp” value, which should be different. **kern to musicXML (hum2xml)8: (1) slashes were not translated properly, including (2) continuation lines, and (3) figures over a stationary bass were partially lost. The reason is that FB is translated as lyrics, rather than the “<figure-bass>” tag musicXML natively supports for FB encodings. **kern to MEI (Verovio): (1) although “6” with backslashes were correctly translated they could not be rendered properly using Verovio. MEI to musicXML (music21)9 and MEI to **kern (mei2hum)10: all FB information was lost. 3 FB encoding instructions for musicXML https://musescore.org/en/handbook/figured-bass 4 FB encoding instructions for **kern https://doc.verovio.humdrum.org/humdrum/figured_bass/ 5 FB encoding instructions for MEI https://music-encoding.org/guidelines/v4/elements/fb.html 6 https://github.com/craigsapp/humlib 7 https://github.com/rism-ch/verovio 8 https://github.com/craigsapp/humextra 9 https://github.com/cuthbertLab/music21 (v. 5.1.0) 10 https://github.com/craigsapp/humlib/ https://musescore.org/en/handbook/figured-bass https://doc.verovio.humdrum.org/humdrum/figured_bass/ https://music-encoding.org/guidelines/v4/elements/fb.html https://github.com/craigsapp/humlib/tree/339f1509ac36881cf533de686f1a1c75a380f135 https://github.com/rism-ch/verovio https://github.com/cuthbertLab/music21 https://github.com/craigsapp/humlib/tree/339f1509ac36881cf533de686f1a1c75a380f135 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 73 Bach Chorales Figured Bass Dataset We present Bach Chorales Figured Bass dataset (BCFB),11 a dataset we constructed containing FB encodings in musicXML, **kern, MEI, and MIDI formats for 103 Johann Sebastian Bach chorales.12 We began with an existing **kern edition [4], which is based on the fourth printed edition of the 371 chorales [5] and does not contain any FB. We automatically translated the music from **kern into musicXML with music21.13 Of the 371 chorales, we manually added FB encodings to 103 chorales with FB indicated in the NBA edition14 using MuseScore (v. 3.3.2). We also made some changes to match the NBA edition such as transposing, changing the meter, pitch, and duration of certain notes, and adding a fifth voice. We also used our findings from above to produce FB encodings for other symbolic formats. We started with our master musicXML files, and translated them into **kern files, with minor manual corrections to the cho- rales with FB continuation lines. We then obtained MEI files from the **kern files. This diversity of symbolic formats offers researchers the opportunity to use the format best suited to their preferred software.15 We hope that BCFB will facilitate computational studies, such as comparative studies on the temporal de- velopment of Bach’s FB and harmonic organization, and that it will be of use for applications such as teaching computers to arrange FB for unfigured chorales. In the future, we will focus on adding symbolic encodings (musical content and FB) for Bach chorales beyond the 371 Breitkopf & Härtel edition,16 with the goal of producing a comprehensive symbolic dataset of Bach chorales. Works cited [1] Williams, Peter, and David Ledbetter. “Figured Bass” Grove Music Online. https://doi.org/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.article.09623. [2] Bach, Johann Sebastian, et al. Neue Ausgabe sämtlicher Werke. Bärenreiter, 1954–2007. [3] Nápoles López, Néstor, Gabriel Vigliensoni, and Ichiro Fujinaga. “The Effects of Translation Between Symbolic Music Formats: A Case Study with Humdrum, Lilypond, MEI, and MusicXML” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Vienna, Austria, May 29-June 1, 2019. [4] Condit-Schultz, Nathaniel, Yaolong Ju, and Ichiro Fujinaga. “A Flexible Approach to Automated Harmonic Analysis: Multiple Anno- tations of Chorales by Bach and Prætorius” in Proceedings of the 19th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2018), 66–73. [5] Bach, Johann Sebastian. 371 vierstimmige Choralgesänge. Breitkopf & Härtel, 1870. 11 Available at: https://github.com/juyaolongpaul/Bach_chorale_FB. 12 The complete reference table is available at https://github.com/juyaolongpaul/Bach_chorale_FB/blob/master/Reference%20Table.xlsx. 13 We asked a music theorist to compare the translated musicXML against the original **kern, and found no significant differences in musical content. 14 Eight of the 111 chorales were omitted for encoding reasons (instrumental interlude chorales, two-voice chorales, and bass indepen- dent chorales), and will be treated in a later phase of our project. 15 If only one format were offered, but is not supported by a given piece of research software, then it would need to be converted to the format supported by the software, which could lead to a loss of FB information, as discussed above. 16 There seem to be 69 extra chorales attributed to Bach http://www.bach-chorales.com/ChoralesNotInRiemenschneider.htm https://doi.org/10.1093/gmo/9781561592630.article.09623 https://github.com/juyaolongpaul/Bach_chorale_FB https://github.com/juyaolongpaul/Bach_chorale_FB/blob/master/reference_table.xlsx https://github.com/juyaolongpaul/Bach_chorale_FB/blob/master/Reference%20Table.xlsx http://www.bach-chorales.com/ChoralesNotInRiemenschneider.htm http://www.bach-chorales.com/ChoralesNotInRiemenschneider.htm 74 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 75 Crafting TabMEI, a Module for Encoding Instrumental Tablatures Reinier de Valk David Lewis Goldsmiths, University of London Goldsmiths, University of London r.f.de.valk@gold.ac.uk d.lewis@gold.ac.uk Tim Crawford Ryaan Ahmed Goldsmiths, University of London Digital Humanities, MIT t.crawford@gold.ac.uk rahmed@mit.edu Laurent Pugin Johannes Kepper RISM CH, Switzerland University of Paderborn laurent.pugin@rism-ch.org kepper@edirom.de Abstract In this progress report, we describe the issues encountered during the design and implementation of TabMEI, a new MEI module for encoding instrumental tablatures. We discuss the main challenges faced and lay out our workflow for implementing the TabMEI module. In addition, we present a number of example encodings, and we describe anticipated applications of the module. Introduction A substantial part of Western art music for plucked, bowed, and keyboard instruments from roughly the early 16th to the late 18th century is notated in tablature, a prescriptive notation system that provides the actions a player must take rather than a description of the sounds these actions produce [1]. The mid-20th century saw a revival of tablature for plucked instruments — principally the same as the earlier system, but now for modern (electric) guitar and bass guitar — with the rise of popular music, enabling a large audience to repro- duce its favourite music. With the emergence of the personal computer and, especially, the internet in the late 20th century, enormous amounts of user-created tablature — now in various digital formats, and increasingly linked to performance material (audio, video) — have become available. Music in tablature, in short, is a force to be reckoned with. Yet, with the exception of a handful of recent attempts [2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8], large-scale computational research into music in tablature is lagging behind. We hypothesise that this is to a large extent due to the lack of a suitable digital format capable of encoding not only the explicit, but also the implicit and the contextual infor- mation conveyed by a piece in tablature. We think that MEI, which “brings together specialists from various music research communities […] in a common effort to define best practices for representing a broad range of musical documents and structures” is such a format.1 In this paper, we describe TabMEI, a module modelling the various tablature variants, to be included into MEI. At this early stage, TabMEI focuses on tablature for plucked instruments, and includes historical lute tabla- ture in three different types (Italian, French, and German) and tablature for the modern (electric) guitar. We do not yet attempt to model historical guitar or keyboard tablatures, which bring their own challenges. We aim to implement a basic set of elements and attributes — reusing, in the spirit of MEI, existing ones as much as possible — that cover most of the repertories and their performance techniques to a usable level. In what follows, we discuss the main challenges faced, illustrated where appropriate with real-life examples (Section 2); our workflow for designing and implementing the TabMEI module (Section 3); three example en- codings addressing some of the aforementioned challenges (Section 4); anticipated applications of the module (Section 5); and, finally, several of the many avenues of future work (Section 6). 1 https://music-encoding.org/ https://music-encoding.org/ 76 Challenges Designing and implementing a new MEI module involves considerable challenges. Below, we describe five such challenges. First, there is the issue of reconciling proposed new MEI elements and attributes with existing ones: are they really needed if MEI already contains mechanisms that model highly similar concepts? This applies at the most basic level: as Figure 1 illustrates, like mensural forms of music, music in tablature consists of a staff-like object containing symbols (notes) possibly arranged in vertical events (chords). Despite the fact that the ‘staff’ is now a visual representation of the courses (i.e., strings or string pairs) on the instrument, most of the elemental building blocks of MEI — <staff>, <layer>, <note>, and <chord>, as well as many of their attributes — can either be reused or be repurposed. Figure 1: Giovanni Maria da Crema, Intabolatura de lauto, Libro primo (Venice, 1546). Recercar sexto, first system. Italian lute tablature with numbers indicating the frets and lines indicating the courses to be played. Second, modern guitar tablature contains a substantial range of indications of very common performance techniques particular to the instrument (e.g., various legato techniques such as hammer-on, pull-off, and slide; string bending techniques; or articulation techniques such as palm muting or vibrato). Often, these require the introduction of new, idiomatic concepts; an example is a ‘virtual’ note reflecting the current ‘state’ of a note whose pitch is being inflected (bent) while retaining properties of that initial note. Figures 2 and 3 show exam- ples of such techniques and concepts. Figure 2: Joe Satriani, Surfing with the Alien (Relativity Records, 1987). Ice 9, fragment. Modern guitar tablature with a transcription in CMN superimposed. The fragment displays examples of (combinations of) the legato techniques hammer-on (H), pull-off (P), and slide (sl.). Figure 3: Van Halen, 1984 (Warner Records Inc., 1984). Hot for Teacher, fragment. Modern guitar tablature with a transcription in CMN superimposed. In addition to examples of (combinations of) the legato techniques hammer-on (H) and pull-off (P), the fragment displays examples of the right-hand finger tapping technique (T) and of the string bending technique (arrow with Full). The note following the last note in the example (not shown) is a ‘virtual’ note reflecting the current ‘state’ of that last, bent note. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 77 Third, as Figures 2 and 3 show, modern guitar tablature is often accompanied by a transcription into CMN, which may contain relevant information, added by the transcriber, that is only implicitly or ambiguously pres- ent in the tablature (e.g., the exact duration of a note). How should such different levels of objectivity be mod- elled? Fourth, when dealing with online tablatures in ASCII (plain text) format, one sees a high variance in quality and, since there is no notational standard and anyone can make their own encoding with just a text editor, in representation. Both complicate, among other things, any necessary data preprocessing. Fifth, German lute tablature, which, as Figure 4 shows, contains no staff but represents each fret-course co- ordinate by a unique symbol, requires a different rendering paradigm. Although this presents a challenge now, the experience gained modelling this type of tablature will be useful when dealing with keyboard tablatures later. Figure 4: Hans Gerle, Eyn newes sehr künstlichs Lautenbuch (Nuremberg, 1552). Das 4. Preambel, first system. German lute tablature with unique symbols indicating the fret-course coordinates to be played. This is the same piece as the one shown in Figure 1. Workflow We adopt the following workflow for designing and implementing the new MEI module: • Identify notational features specific to tablatures, always taking into account the domain — visual, ges- tural, or analytical — to which they belong. A feature frequently belongs to more than one domain. • List requirements based on a set of examples. Complex and rare examples (such as, for instance, those in Figure 2 and 3) should be considered in order to validate an approach. • Ensure that the proposed model fits the MEI approach. • Ensure that existing MEI elements and attributes are reused when appropriate. • Ensure that the module’s granularity is in line with that of existing MEI modules (i.e., avoid a surplus of new elements and attributes). • Prepare a customisation and the accompanying documentation, both of which are required to make a proposal (in the form of a pull request) to MEI. • Incorporate feedback from the larger MEI community. Example encodings Figure 5 presents the TabMEI encoding of the antepenultimate bar of the fragment shown in Figure 1. <mea- sure>, <staff>, and <layer> elements can be reused from the CMN MEI module, but <chord> elements have been replaced with the idiomatic <tabGrp> elements, which themselves contain the idiomatic <tab- Rhythm> elements (whose presence indicates that the tablature chord is provided with a rhythm symbol) and <note> elements. Because the duration of the rhythm symbols in lute tablature is often open to interpretation, on the <tabGrp> element the @dur.ges (and not @dur) attribute is used, and on the <note> element the @ pname and @oct attributes, which depend on the tuning used, are replaced by the idiomatic @tab.course 78 and @tab.fret attributes. (The tuning itself, along with the tablature type, is specified in the <staffDef>; see the TabMEI GitHub repository for full examples.)2 <measure n='7'> <staff n='1'> <layer n='1'> <tabGrp dur.ges='4' dots='1'> <tabRhythm/> <note tab.course='6' tab.fret='0' xml:id='m7.n1'/> <note tab.course='4' tab.fret='2' xml:id='m7.n2'/> <note tab.course='1' tab.fret='0' xml:id='m7.n3'/> </tabGrp> <tabGrp dur.ges='8'> <tabRhythm/> <note tab.course='3' tab.fret='0' xml:id='m7.n4'/> </tabGrp> <tabGrp dur.ges='4'> <tabRhythm/> <note tab.course='3' tab.fret='1' xml:id='m7.n5'/> <note tab.course='1' tab.fret='0' xml:id='m7.n6'/> </tabGrp> <tabGrp dur.ges='4'> <note tab.course='3' tab.fret='3' xml:id='m7.n7'/> </tabGrp> </layer> </staff> </measure> Figure 5: TabMEI encoding of Figure 1, antepenultimate bar. Figure 6 presents the TabMEI encoding of the second half of the last bar of the fragment shown in Figure 3. It shows the reuse of the <dir> control event, now with the value 'tap-fing' for the idiomatic @technique attribute, to encode the right-hand finger tapping technique; the reuse of the <slur> control event to encode the legato techniques hammer-on and pull-off, and the use of the idiomatic <pitchInflection> control event to encode the string bending technique. <measure n='3' right='dbl'> <staff n='1'> <layer n='1'> <beam> ... <tabGrp dur='16'> <note tab.course='5' tab.fret='12' xml:id='m3.n7'/> </tabGrp> </beam> <beam> <tabGrp dur='16'> <note tab.course='5' tab.fret='8' xml:id='m3.n8'/> </tabGrp> <tabGrp dur='16'> <note tab.course='5' tab.fret='7' xml:id='m3.n9'/> </tabGrp> <tabGrp dur='16'> 2 https://www.github.com/music-encoding/tablature-ig/ https://github.com/music-encoding/tablature-ig/ Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 79 <note tab.course='5' tab.fret='5' xml:id='m3.n10'/> </tabGrp> <tabGrp dur='16'> <note tab.course='5' tab.fret='0' tie='i' xml:id='m3.n11'/> </tabGrp> </beam> <beam> <tabGrp dur='8'> <note tab.course='5' tab.fret='0' tie='t' xml:id='m3.n12'/> </tabGrp> <tabGrp dur='8'> <note tab.course='3' tab.fret='4' tie='i' xml:id='m3.n13'/> </tabGrp> </beam> </layer> </staff> ... <dir technique='tap-fing' startid='m3.n7'>T</dir> <slur startid='m3.n7' endid='m3.n11' show.dirmark='true'/> <pitchInflection startid='m3.n13' endid='m4.n1' dis='2'> Full</pitchInflection> </measure> Figure 6: TabMEI encoding of Figure 3, second half of last bar. Figure 7, finally, presents the TabMEI encoding of the first bar of the fragment shown in Figure 4. Apart from the correction, the only difference in material usage with the encoding shown in Figure 5 is the additional use of the idiomatic <fretGlyph> element on the <note> element, which facilitates the encoding of unique symbols for fret-course coordinates using the @symbol and @symbol.mod attributes. (For the sake of brevity of the example, the scribal error — the note with @xml:id='m1.n4' should move one <tabGrp> to the left — has not been corrected. For the full, corrected, example see the TabMEI GitHub repository.) <measure n='1'> <staff n='1'> <layer n='1'> <tabGrp dur.ges='2'> <tabRhythm/> <note tab.course='6' tab.fret='0' xml:id='m1.n1'> <fretGlyph symbol='1' symbol.mod='strikethrough'/> </note> <note tab.course='4' tab.fret='2' xml:id='m1.n2'> <fretGlyph symbol='g'/> </note> </tabGrp> <tabGrp dur.ges='4' dots='1'> <tabRhythm/> <note tab.course='4' tab.fret='2' xml:id='m1.n3'> <fretGlyph symbol='g'/> </note> </tabGrp> <tabGrp dur.ges='8'> <tabRhythm/> <note tab.course='6' tab.fret='0' xml:id='m1.n4'> <fretGlyph symbol='1' symbol.mod='strikethrough'/> </note> <note tab.course='6' tab.fret='2' xml:id='m1.n5'> <fretGlyph symbol='3' symbol.mod='strikethrough'/> 80 </note> </tabGrp> </layer> </staff> </measure> Figure 7: TabMEI encoding of Figure 4, first bar. Applications The TabMEI module has several immediate applications. First, a simple Verovio tablature renderer, taking TabMEI as input, exists.3 It is compatible with the Verovio CMN and mensural music renderer — meaning that tablature can be displayed together with music in CMN (e.g., a transcription of the tablature) or mensural music (e.g., a vocal part in a lute song) flexibly. An example of the former is shown in Figure 8. The renderer facilitates basic playback. Figure 8: Verovio rendering of the tablature fragment shown in Figure 1, with a transcription in CMN superimposed. Second, using a workflow involving the music21 tablature toolbox [2, 3] and a tablature mapping algorithm [8] or a voice separation model [7],4 we can directly compare 16th-century lute intabulations — arrangements of vocal works — with their vocal models. Third, ‘internet tabs’ (i.e., online tablatures using an ASCII character set) can be ingested through the music21 tablature toolbox, displayed elegantly with Verovio, and analysed on a large scale, or connected to other digital datasets, for example through linked data techniques [6, 9, 10]. 3 https://www.github.com/rism-ch/verovio/ 4 https://www.web.mit.edu/music21/ https://www.github.com/rism-ch/verovio/ https://www.web.mit.edu/music21/ Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 81 Future work In this early stage, there are many lines of future work to be explored. The most obvious — and most de- manding — is to be more complete both in the coverage of repertories (e.g., for the historical guitar, or for the various historical keyboard instruments) and performance techniques. Furthermore, existing Standard Music Font Layout (SMuFL) fonts for displaying historical tablatures are incomplete, and should be extended;5 this requires a discussion with SMuFL developers. Useful features, for example in the context of education or the preparation of scholarly or performance editions, would be interactive authoring and editing, and ingestion from a wider range of formats. Finally, the support of playback via soundfonts is envisaged. Works cited [1] Dart, Thurston, John Morehen, and Richard Rastall. “Tablature” in The New Grove Dictionary of Music and Musicians, ed. Stanley Sadie (2nd ed., vol. 24). London: Macmillan, 2001, 905-14. [2] Ahmed, Ryaan, Reinier de Valk, Tim Crawford, and David Lewis. “A digital toolbox for exploring lute tablature” presented at the 47th Medieval and Renaissance Music Conference, Basel, Switzerland, July 3-6, 2019. [3] Ahmed, Ryaan, Reinier de Valk, Tim Crawford, and David Lewis. “Hundreds of thousands of pieces in MEI: Encoding tablatures at scale” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Vienna, Austria, May 29-June 1, 2019. [4] Crawford, Tim, Jessica Schwartz, David Lewis, and Richard Lewis. “Encoding music as people play it: MEI and the role of tablatures in capturing musical performance” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Montreal, QC, Canada, May 17-19, 2016. [5] Lewis, David, Tim Crawford, and Daniel Müllensiefen. “Instrumental idiom in the 16th century: Embellishment patterns in arrange- ments of vocal music” in Proceedings of the 17th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2016), 524-30. [6] Lewis, Richard J., Tim Crawford, and David Lewis. “Exploring information retrieval, semantic technologies and workflows for music scholarship: The Transforming Musicology project” Early Music 43, no. 4 (2015), 635-47. [7] de Valk, Reinier. “Structuring lute tablature and MIDI data: Machine learning models for voice separation in symbolic music represen- tations”. City University London, 2015. PhD dissertation. [8] de Valk, Reinier, Ryaan Ahmed, and Tim Crawford. “JosquIntab: A dataset for content-based computational analysis of music in lute tablature” in Proceedings of the 20th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2019), 431-38. [9] Meroño-Peñuela, Albert, Reinier de Valk, Enrico Daga, Marilena Daquino, and Anna Kent-Muller. “The Semantic Web MIDI Tape: An interface for interlinking MIDI and context metadata” in Proceedings of the Workshop on Semantic Applications for Audio and Music (SAAM 2018), 24-32. [10] David M. Weigl and Kevin R. Page. “A framework for distributed semantic annotation of musical score: “Take it to the bridge!”” in Proceedings of the 18th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2017), 221-28. 5 https://www.smufl.org/ https://www.smufl.org/ 82 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 83 Harmalysis: A language for the Annotation of Roman Numerals in Symbolic Music Repre- sentations Néstor Nápoles López Ichiro Fujinaga McGill University, CIRMMT McGill University, CIRMMT nestor.napoleslopez@mail.mcgill.ca ichiro.fujinaga@mcgill.ca Abstract High-quality annotations of harmonic analysis are scarce [1, 2, 3, 4]. Furthermore, the existing data usually follows different conventions for spelling scale degrees, inversions, and special chords (e.g., cadential six-four). There have been efforts for standardizing the notation of harmonic analysis annotations [5], however, these have not been very successful because: 1) there are few software tools able to parse such notations 2) as a consequence, researchers have not adopted the suggested notations and it is more frequent to find a differ- ent notation with every new dataset. We attempt to mitigate the limitations of existing notations through the definition of a new language for harmonic analysis, which we call harmalysis. This language 1) provides a notation that adjusts as much as pos- sible to the way in which researchers have annotated roman numerals in existing datasets, 2) formalizes the resulting notation into a consistent and extensible context-free grammar, 3) uses the context-free grammar to generate tools that are able to parse and validate annotations in the syntax of the language. We make the formal definition of the language, a context-free grammar described in the Extended Back- us-Naur Form (EBNF), available as an open-source repository. Within the same repository, we make available tools for parsing annotations in the harmalysis language. The tools allow the users to extract high-level seman- tic information from their annotations (e.g., local key, root of the chord, inversion, added intervals, whether the chord is tonicizing another key or not, etc.) and to validate the correctness of a given annotation according to the grammar of the proposed language. The language has been designed to be easily annotated through the addition of lyrics in music notation software or-when supported by the symbolic music format-in a dedicated data structure for indications of har- mony (e.g., the function tag in MusicXML, the harm tag in MEI, and a **harm spine in Humdrum). This ensures that the users adopting the language find an immediate application for it. The harmalysis language Recently, the interest for harmonic analysis and its standardization in machine-readable contexts has been revisited by academics [4] as well as developers of music notation software [6]. We follow a similar approach by presenting a new language of roman numeral analysis, which can be encoded within symbolic music representations. The new language, harmalysis, is based principally on Huron‘s **harm syntax, which was originally intended for accompanying music scores encoded in the Humdrum(**kern) rep- resentation. We extend this syntax by borrowing elements from the RomanText format [4], MuseScore‘s nota- tion for roman numeral analysis [6], and conventions observed in existing datasets of roman numeral analysis [1, 2, 3]. As a result, the harmalysis language is a superset of the **harm syntax, which includes additional features and supports a wider range of customs of harmonic analysis. 84 Goals of the language The main goal of the language is to provide a convention for the annotation of roman numeral analysis, which the human analysts can use while they encode music through music notation software (e.g., MuseScore) or text-based encodings (e.g., Lilypond). These annotations, intelligible by the automatic tools accompanying the language, can later be used in machine-readable contexts, such as music information retrieval (MIR) tasks, computational musicology, and music engraving. As an additional goal, the language attempts to integrate all the conventions observed in harmonic analysis practices that can be assimilated. This integration, however, is restricted to maintaining a rigorous definition of the language, which should always be characterized by a formal grammar. One example of such integration is the use of numeric inversions (e.g., V65) as well as inversions denoted by letters (e.g., V7b). Each of these conventions has its strengths and weaknesses, which is why they have been-individually-adopted in the past, however, they have now been adopted within the same annotation language. This presents an additional ben- efit, namely, using the same language and tools to process (although with limitations) existing datasets that have used different conventions of harmonic analysis. As most formal languages, harmalysis is driven by a number of principles, which guided the decisions made during its design. Principles of the language The harmalysis language attempts to be: • Similar-looking to a textbook analysis: The language should feel intuitive to annotators who are familiar with textbook conventions of roman numeral analysis. • Compact: The labels of the language are relatively short and adequate for human annotators, although they may be too terse for some users. • Flexible, but consistent over flexible: The language attempts to facilitate the preferred convention of most annotators, however, the formal definition of the language implies that sometimes the annotators will have to adopt a different convention than the one they usually follow (e.g., case-sensitive scale de- grees are mandatory). • Agnostic to the symbolic music format: The language is based on plain-text annotations, it does not en- force (but also does not oppose) other data-description languages (e.g., JSON or XML), and it is not tied to a specific symbolic music format. • Stand-alone at the level of individual labels: Each label in the language can encode enough information to disambiguate its precise meaning without relying on a configuration file, the musical context, or previ- ous labels. • Application-driven: The language is meant to be accompanied by tools that facilitate the extraction of high-level information from its annotations, rather than facilitate the preservation of very specific, non-conventional harmonies. Nonetheless, a feature called descriptive chords is provided for encoding non-conventional harmonies. • Extensible: The grammar of the language will always remain open-source and open to revisions and improvements. Conclusion In this paper, we introduced the harmalysis language for the annotation of roman numeral analysis in sym- bolic music representations. The language incorporates most of the features of the **harm syntax [5] as well as other conventions for the annotation of harmonic analysis [4], which are formalized in an open-source context-free grammar. Given the formal definition of the language and the tools that we make available with it, we consider that the harmalysis language is a valuable resource for researchers encoding or utilizing har- monic analysis datasets. The latest grammar of the language and its accompanying software can be found in the following website: https://github.com/napulen/harmalysis. https://github.com/napulen/harmalysis Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 85 Works cited [1] Devaney, Johanna, Claire Arthur, Nathaniel Condit-Schultz, and Kirsten Nisula. “Theme And Variation Encodings with Roman Nu- merals (TAVERN): A New Data Set for Symbolic Music Analysis” in Proceedings of the 16th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2015), 728–34, doi:10.5281/zenodo.1417497. [2] Nápoles López, Néstor. “Automatic harmonic analysis of classical string quartets from symbolic score” Universitat Pompeu Fabra, 2017. Masters Thesis. [3] Neuwirth, Markus, Daniel Harasim, Fabian C. Moss, and Martin Rohrmeier. “The Annotated Beethoven Corpus (ABC): A Dataset of Harmonic Analyses of All Beethoven String Quartets” Front. Digit. Humanit. 3 (2018), doi: 10.3389/fdigh.2018.00016. [4] Gotham, Mark, Dmitri Tymoczko, and Michael Scott Cuthbert. “The RomanText Format: A Flexible and Standard Method for Repre- senting Roman Numerial Analyses” in Proceedings of the 20th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2019), 123–29, doi: 10.5281/zenodo.3527756. [5] Huron, David. “Representation: **harm — humdrum-tools 1 documentation”. https://www.humdrum.org/rep/harm/ (accessed Dec. 18, 2019). [6] “Roman Numeral Analysis (RNA)”. https://musescore.org/en/handbook/3/roman-numeral-analysis-rna (accessed Dec. 18, 2019). https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI https://www.zotero.org/google-docs/?FrLkEI 86 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 87 Do Visual Features Matter? Studies in Phylogenetic Analysis of Mensural Music Anna Plaksin Max Weber Stiftung | Birmingham City University plaksin@maxweberstiftung.de Abstract This paper reports on the task of developing concepts for a computational analysis of the transmission of mensural music based on concepts of phylogenetic analysis. Since the analysis of transmission aims for the reconstruction of relations between sources, it focuses on the differences of rather similar items. Therefore, it is necessary to find substitution models which are optimized for distinguishing fine levels of differences and to deal with the structural ambiguities and visual variance of mensural notation. Introduction The model of semantic domains in music notation is not only well known in the field of music encoding but is used as a common ground in reasoning about the representation of notated music. By modelling these domains in separate attribute classes, MEI provides a powerful feature offering the possibility to depict com- plexities of different kinds of music notation, e.g. mensural notation. Especially the lack of stable relationship between symbols and their interpretation is easily observed when encoding mensural music, but stemmatic analysis is typically led by the concept of significance commonly embodied in focussing on substantial variants, variants in pitch and duration. However, in the case of mensural music sources, with their richness of visual variance, where the particular context affects the process of reading and deciphering as well as developments in the notational system and varying concepts in mensural theory, that distinction reaches its limits: “The extent to which these can be considered ‘non-substantive’ is questionable: the positioning of line breaks, for instance, will have an effect on an editor’s interpretation of the duration of manuscript acciden- tals, or stem direction may actually have an effect on rhythm in certain notational styles (as in some brands of 14th-century notation)” [1, p. 143]. This paper reports on the task of developing concepts for a computational analysis of the transmission of mensural music based on concepts of phylogenetic analysis. Starting with encodings of the sources of Jos- quin’s Missa D’ung aultre amer and Tu solus qui facis mirabilia, it raises the question, how picking properties of mensural notation affects the resulting tree. What to compare? One main concern in methodological design is the preservation of the research object throughout the analysis. When dealing with questions, for example, like the effects of stress on people, the first and foremost task is the quantification of stress -- how can something so vague be detected by the means of measurable qualities. And even though we‘re dealing with music this question still matters. The analysis of the transmission of mensural music is a task that is inherently focused on the witnesses of this tradition, the sources itself. But these sources aren‘t digital objects. To make them available to such a task, the digitization the information about them is an inevitable bottleneck. And in this regard representation becomes crucial: If the representation of the source becomes distorted during the process of digitization, the whole analysis becomes flawed. But, what in that particular context is the source and what features of it need to be maintained? First of all, when dealing with the transmission of music, luckily features of physical substance of the object could be regarded as subordinated. We‘re not interested in the object itself but in its role as a witness of the human 88 interaction with it, which is writing down music notation. And by following that track, because the sources are the only remaining witnesses of this interaction, we are faced with all the particularities and lapses that come with it. First of all, a source of a piece of music isn‘t just the piece of music. A source can be erroneous, even to a point where the performance of the piece of music it bears isn‘t possible anymore.1 Ambiguities in the position of notes on a staff are as likely as the challenge of deciding how long that line which represents a rest actually is. And deciphering the notation is a complex task in itself. Limiting the scope to mensural notation, one main idiosyncrasy is the ambiguous relationship between a sign, its meaning and its result on performance. For this reason, visual variance of notation is not just likely but typical.2 Hereby, the coexistence of single note shapes and ligatures adds to the various possibilities, but with only limited complexity. For example, the phenomenon known as color minor is a one of these special cases. Usually, in transcription to modern Common Western Music Notation it is treated equally to the punctum augmentationis, even if they exist commonly in close succession (see e.g. figure 1) [3, p. 138f.]. But why would both manners be used side by side? While Stanley Boorman [4, pp. 72-75] describes possibilities of further implications, Ronald Woodley [5] describes a change in notation practice around 1500. Which position is to be followed doesn‘t really matter in this context -- rather the range of subtleties has to be considered. Figure 1: Color minor and punctuation is used in close succession. M. D‘ung aultre amer, Gloria, Superius, after [VatS 41, fol. 150v]. As well, a focal point for the transmission of the M. D‘ung aultre amer and Tu solus qui facis mirabilia are varying signs for the sesquialtera (see figure 2). It is not just a layer of visual variation but could be seen as well as a symptom of changes in the practice of musical notation [6]. As Anna Maria Busse Berger explains, the under- standing of proportions evolved from a “substitute for mensuration signs” [7, p. 185] to a self-contained sign for diminution [7, pp. 182-96]. The variant reading of a sesquialtera including a change to tempus perfectum with a circle added on top of the 3 might be understood as effect of this trend. Following this argumentation, it would be essential to track this kind of variants during the whole process. (a) (b) Figure 2: Different signs for sesquialtera: While (a) give no statement about the mensuration, (b) signals perfect time unambiguously [7, p. 230]. Bringing these aspects together, there are some valid conclusions concerning the machine-readable represen- tation. When sources are the objects of our particular interest, it is necessary to allow for their idiosyncrasies to be pivotal, both unperformable corruptions in the source and the fine subtleties of notation. With the for- mer, even if it means to accept that ‚the music‘ cannot be read from a manuscript [8, p. 169]. But when reading the music is impossible, a source still has its documentary value that can be captured. And moreover, con- 1 Like e.g. a suddenly ending superius in the Osanna of Dufays Missa Se la face ay pale in [VatS 14, fol. 35v]. 2 “Mensural notation is at least partly redundant in that the scribe often has a choice of representing a certain musical content in differ- ent visual manifestations” [2, p. 58]. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 89 cerning notational idiosyncrasies, it is also possible to trace them from a point of describing the notation itself, without trying to resolve durations, reconstructing a conceptual piece of music – meant as thinking the parts together – or even suggest appropriate inflections of pitches. But the question arising from these thoughts is: Does that actually work in a computational analysis of transmission when similarity is usually estimated based on the perception of this conceptional or the aural dimension of music? Distinction of difference Other endeavours to use global sequence alignment for notated music [9], [10], and [11] focus on either re- trieval scenarios or minimizing differences of notation, mode and/or tempo. Analysing patterns of transmis- sion comes with a different scope. The goal of stemmatic analysis is more or less giving statements about the relationship between sources based on their variants. This means, instead of querying the most similar in a heterogeneous group, the main task is to cluster a group of rather similar objects according to their differ- ences. To allow this clustering, we might not focus on their similarities but rather to distinguish the degree of deviation between a group of sources. Therefore, it is necessary to find substitution models which are opti- mized for distinguishing these fine levels of difference. But how could these models be developed without any advanced experience in measuring difference of mensural music? On the one hand, there are mathematical models: But they are focused on similarity scores used in local se- quence alignment. And they need to follow particular assumptions to be valid. The expected similarity score of an alignment of random sequences needs to be below zero while there is at least one positive score. Conversely this means it would be necessary to decide what level of similarity is to be denominated as neutral similarity: S = 0 What is different enough to be similar but similar enough to not be different? On the other hand, there are already existing stemmata, made very cautiously e.g. while editing a certain piece of music. But analysing these shows, that every stemma is constructed strictly on its own terms. When comparing the stemmata of the joint transmission of Josquins Missa D‘ung aultre amer and the motet Tu solus qui facis mirabilia – which is used as a replacement for the Benedictus and Osanna II – crucial disagreements become evident. And because of these disagreements, pre-existing stemmata cannot serve as a benchmark as well. An obvious conclusion in addressing these challenges is using methods with few external prerequisites. First of all, a global alignment using distance-based substitution models is the chosen approach. By stating that identity as distance D = 0 the definition of neutral similarity is avoided. Moreover, a data-based process was developed for evaluating substitution models. Based on the method of surrogate data analysis [12], an approach was chosen, that scales the strength of separating levels of distance. Hereby sequences are shuffled to provide independent and identically distributed random sequences as a benchmark. Figure 3: Figure 3: Comparing original data against independent and identically distributed random sequences. 90 This analysis makes use of three main preconditions: First of all, its use in the course of finding models for the analysis of transmission depends on dissimilarity as the central criterion of stemmatic analysis. Second, the shuffling utilizes the assumption that the internal structure of a sequence is constitutive for similarity, in the way that the order of letters constitutes a word. And the third condition is, that the relative distance between original and surrogate comparisons is affected by the similarity of the original sequences. Therefore, it must be possible to estimate the dissimilarity of the original sequences by quantifying the deviance of the relative distance between these two original sequences and their shuffled surrogates. Moreover, this approach serves as the basis for an analysis of variance to detect a trend in comparing sequences, grouped by an estimated level of similarity. And observing the behaviour of a set of attributes with this test set-up can lead to an informed choice of analytical parameters. Comparing feature sets In this analysis of variance, the joint M. D‘ung aultre amer / Tu solus transmission serves as the test case.3 To detect a trend in the deviance of relative distance between original and surrogate data, groups of estimated similarity has been defined by the non-controversial relations of those two conflicting stemmata, together with arbitrarily chosen groups: 1. Different piece of music: Quis dabit capiti meo aquam 2. Different parts of the same mass section from the same source 3. Different parts of the same section from the same source 4. Tu solus: Mass vs. motet tradition 5. Tu solus: Same tradition 6. Tu solus: Direct dependency 7. Same part before and after scribal intervention Since the main question that arose during the encoding of the sources is how much interpretative encoding of mensural notation is least necessary for performing, the tested parameter sets are mainly designed to capture certain states of interpretation of mensural notation. The first state, labelled as signbased.vis is similar to recognising and describing symbols. Every symbol in a staff is described independently depending on the kind of symbol, mostly based on the element names and attributes used in the encoding. Regarding mensuration signs and proportion signs, only an identifier classify- ing the visual sign is used for further discrimination. The written pitch, which is used as a feature for notes and accidentals, can in this regard be seen as a classification of the vertical orientation within a staff – no further inflection of accidentals or musica ficta is intended. As well, notes and rests are merely distinguished by their types as encoded with @dur. In addition, notes have features regarding their coloration and the form of a lig- ature and their position within a ligature. In contrast, signbased.log still records every symbol in the staff, but tries to capture the actual meaning of the symbols. This means, for mensuration and proportion signs, it records the Tempus, Prolatio, Modus minor and maior and the @num/@numbase. As well, the duration of notes and rests are resolved into relative dura- tions, and the pitch is recorded including resolved written accidentals. Since the aim of comparing sources makes it inevitable to follow one source as it presents itself without emendation of errors, a parameter set containing performance-related information would undermine this. Already the observance of written accidentals is a grey area, but resolving musica ficta is in this regard too interpretative a task. Therefore, data that needs to have taken more than a single part into consideration is excluded. Instead, another parameter set has been created as a further reduction to substantial parameters. The parameter set called superlogical.gap takes only notes and rests with their relative duration and resolved pitch into consideration. In this way, it mimics focussing exclusively on substantial variants. And in addition, another parameter set signbased.all.gap contains every created parameter. 3 For a more detailed description of the analysis, see [13]. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 91 Figure 4: Deviance of distance between original and surrogate sequences per parameter set and group (see list). Median lines visualize trend. By performing the comparison of original and surrogate sequences per parameter set and per group, several crucial observances can be made (see figure 4). The signbased.all.gap set not only have the slightest slope, but apart from that, the deviance between original and surrogate is already significant for the comparison of different pieces.4 Having this group as a control group, which sets another piece of music at random against the chosen example, an acceptable parameter set must show now significant deviance from random compar- isons, whereas the other sets match this demand. In conclusion, a set containing all parameters is not appro- priate at all for this task. The parameter sets signbased.log.gap and superlogical.gap, mainly focussing on the logical meaning of a symbol in the context of notation or the resulting impact as a series of notes and rests with a certain relative duration and a pitch, show a very similar behaviour. There is a visible difference between the arbitrarily cho- sen groups and the quite similar groups 5-7, with the group comparing different traditions in the middle. But the differences between the similar groups are hardly distinguishable. And moreover, the minimal deviance between original and surrogate is not the control group but the group comparing different voices. This could be explained by a high influence of absolute pitch. These parameters, therefore, might serve well in a setting of retrieving similar pieces from a heterogeneous group. But when analysing transmission, the task is to cluster similar pieces according to their differences. In this regard, the set signbased.vis.gap seems more appropriate. It distinguishes well between the arbitary groups and the ‚realistic‘ groups and its minimum is at the control group. Moreover, it shows the steepest slope for the groups 4-7 based on realistic comparisons. 4 Using a Wilcoxon signed-rank test (α= 0.001): W = 17851. 92 Comparing trees But beside the results of the surrogate data analysis, it is worth to take another look at trees. As already men- tioned, the transmission of the M. D‘ung aultre amer and Tu solus qui facis mirabilia is of relevance because there are two conflicting stemmata [14, p. 34], [15, p. 43]. In detail, they show how much weighing different aspects and focussing on certain variants can lead to different points of view [13, pp. 79-82]. Crucial for the diverging layout is whether proportion signs are taken into consideration or not. While Noblitt ignores them, Blackburn traces one of the sesquialtera signs back to Petrucci‘ editor Petrus Castellaus [15, p. 40]. Conversely, the other variant is treated as authorial.5 At the first glance, this might fit questions this paper is stating when observing the effect of a single visual feature on a stemma. But this is covered by another aspects. The central criterion for a stemma is usually significance, the likelihood of the same error occurring independently. The question of notational parameters is on side of the question, the other is weighing the influence – which has been done by stating authorial influence. Therefore, it might be rather useful to start with a delimitation. The trees constructed as a part of this study are unrooted trees based on global distances of sequences.6 Without root, they give no hint about a possible origin and in addition no information about relations to that origin. And, in contrast to a stemma, these trees don‘t follow any rule of significance. Every dissimilarity that has been detected by the chosen parameter set affects the tree. (a) Signbased.log.gap. (b) Superlogical.gap Figure 5: .Instability of unrooted trees: Superlogical.gap leads to a different layout than signbased.log.gap, disregarding that [Gio1526] is a reprint of the Petrucci prints. Figure 5 shows the trees regarding the superius and tenor of the mass cycle7 constructed on the basis of the superlogical and the signbased logical parameters. Obviously, the topology of both trees differs. While the printed sources are grouped together in figure 5a apart from the two manuscripts [ModD 4] and [VatS 41], the superlogical tree (figure 5b) sets only [ModD 4] apart. Moreover, it puts the Vatican source in closer relation to the three Petrucci prints than the Giunta reprint of 1526 – a highly doubtful result. In this regard, the tree based on the parameters per sign fits better to external knowledge about the sources. 5 “Josquin himself normally used ‘3’ to indicate sesquialtera” [15, p. 40]. As well Gaffurius attests to Josquin’s use of “3” [6, p. 418f.]. 6 The neighbor-joining algorithm according to [16] has been used. 7 Only superius and tenor were available in all sources. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 93 (a) Signbased.log.gap. (b) Signbased.vis.gap Figure 6: .Influence of ligatures and coloration: Visual parameters affect the distance between the Cappella Sistina choir book and other mass sources. In comparison, figure 6 compares the trees built on parameter sets either of uninterpreted notation and of signbased resolved meanings. Obviously, the layout of both trees is identical, while the edge lengths differ. In particular, the distance of the Vatican source in relation has grown. When taking a look at the sources, this result is evident. While [ModD 4] conforms mostly with the printed sources regarding the use of coloration and ligatures, the Cappella Sistina choir book makes a heavy use of coloration and ligatures, in melismatic sections of the tenor not unlikely complex multi-note ligatures. Notably, the variant sesquialtera signs don‘t change the layout of the tree, otherwise there would have been a difference between the trees derived from the signbased models – only signbased.vis takes the sign into account together with ligatures and coloration. Instead, it weighs much more if the model is signbased or notation agnostic. Conclusion First of all, I would like to start concluding about the analysis of transmission. The presented experiment shows a different usage of sequence alignment than retrieval scenarios. When reusing methods of phyloge- netic analysis, the focus lies on the distinction of difference rather than on finding similarities. Therefore, other models need to be used. As well, it is obvious, that an unrooted tree constructed on global alignments must be read differently than a stemma because it is based on other conditions. But when trees are constructed based on different feature sets, the effect of certain assumptions can be made visible. Whereas a stemma usually relies on few significant variants, the showed trees take all detected differences into account. Moreover, the results can clearly be summarized: Notation matters! The presented method of surrogate data analysis gives hints about the specific behaviour of a model. It shows, for the purpose of discriminating rather similar items, the model based on uninterpreted mensural notation provides better results than the models using resolved durations and ignoring visual variance. And while the surrogate data analysis shows no big difference for the latter, the comparison of trees favours a notation specific approach. These results not only demonstrate that it is possible to bypass the interpretative reading of music notation for the purpose of comparing differences, but as well it makes clear that notation itself can be a subject of research, e.g. in tracing changes in notational praxis. For this research, encoding is a pivotal part, but under different circumstances than e.g. for machine-readable editions or musical analysis. Encoding, used as a structured description of no- tation and its idiosyncrasies can serve the analysis of notation and its interpretation. 94 With that purpose in mind, the separation of semantic domains as provided in with MEI is a powerful tool. For the matter of encoding mensural notation, this is a highly intricate task, since it means to differentiate carefully the levels of interpretation. In the case of tracing the ambiguous relationship of sign and meaning, a procedural approach would be favourable, classifying the sign, representing its instructional value and illus- trate resulting consequences in performance. List of Sources [Gio1526] Jacopo Gionta, Giovanni Giacomo Pasoti, and Valerio Dorico, eds. Missarum Josquin Liber se- cundus. Rom, 1526. http://data.onb.ac.at/rec/AC09229566 [VatS 14] MS Capp.Sist.14. Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. Rome, Italy. https://digi.vatlib.it/mss/detail/ Capp.Sist.14 [VatS 41] MS Capp.Sist.41. Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana. Rome, Italy. https://digi.vatlib.it/mss/detail/ Capp.Sist.41 [ModD 4] Ms. Mus. IV. Archivio Capitolare. Modena, Italy. [Pet1505] Ottaviano Petrucci, ed. Missarum Josquin Liber secundus. Venedig, 1505. http://diglib.hab.de/ drucke/2-8-musica-2s/start.htm [Pet1515] Ottaviano Petrucci, ed. Missarum Josquin Liber secundus. Ave maris stella. Hercules dux ferra- rie. Malheur me bat. La mi baudichon. Una musque de buscaya. Dung aultre amer. Fossombrone, 1515. http://data.onb.ac.at/rec/AC09319724 [Pet1519] Ottaviano Petrucci, ed. Missarum Josquin Liber secundus. Ave maris stella. Hercules dux ferra- rie. Malheur me bat. La mi baudichon. Una musque de buscaya. Dung aultre amer. Fossombrone, [1519]; 1515. http://data.onb.ac.at/rec/AC09170773 Works Cited [1] Dumitrescu, Theodor, and Marnix van Berchum. “The CMME Occo Codex Edition: Variants and Versions in Encoding and Interface” in Digitale Edition zwischen Experiment und Standardisierung, eds. Peter Stadler and Joachim Veit. Beihefte zu editio. Tubingen: Niemeyer, 2009, 129-46. [2] Schmidt, Thomas. “Making Polyphonic Books in the late Fifteenth and early Sixteenth Centuries” in The Production and Reading of Music Sources, eds. Thomas Schmidt and Christian Thomas Leitmeir (Epitome Musical). Turnhout: Brepols Publishers, 2018, 1-98. [3] Apel, Willi. Die Notation der polyphonen Musik: 900 - 1600. 5. Au. Wiesbaden: Breitkopf & Härtel, 2006. [4] Boorman, Stanley. “Notational Spelling and Scribal Habit”, in Datierung und Filiation von Musikhandschriften der Josquin-Zeit, ed. Ludwig Finscher. Wolfenbütteler Forschungen. Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1983, 65-109. [5] Woodley, Ronald. “Minor coloration revisited: Okeghem‘s Ma bouche rit and beyond” in Théorie et analyse musicales, ed. Anne-Em- manuelle Ceulemans (Publications d‘histoire de l‘art et d‘archéologie de l‘Université Catholique de Louvain. Musicologica neolo- vaniensia. Studia). Louvain-la-Neuve, 2001, 39-63. [6] Blackburn, Bonnie J. “The Sign of Petrucci‘s Editor” in Venezia 1501: Petrucci e la stampa musicale, eds. Giulio Cattin and Patrizia Dalla Vecchia (Serie III. Studi musicologici. B, Atti di convegni / 6). Venezia, 2005, 415-30. [7] Busse Berger, Anna Maria. Mensuration and proportion signs: Origins and evolution. Oxford monographs on music. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1993. [8] Boorman, Stanley. “The Uses of Filiation in Early Music” Text 1 (1981), 167-84, http://www.jstor.org/stable/30234249 [9] van Kranenburg, Peter. “A Computational Approach to Content-Based Retrieval of Folk Song Melodies”. Utrecht University, 2010. PhD dissertation. http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.11755/8436a210-ceeb-4c66-ba02-ffe5c7e66a42 [10] Mongeau, Marcel, and David Sanko. “Comparison of Musical Sequences” Computers and the Humanities 24, no. 3 (1990), 161-75, http://www.jstor.org/stable/30200223 [11] van Nuss, Jelmer, Geert-Jan Giezeman, and Frans Wiering. “Searching musical incipits by means of sequence alignment” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Tours, France, May 16-19, 2017. [12] Theiler, James, Stephen Eubank, André Longtin, and Bryan Galdrikian. “Testing for nonlinearity in time series: the method of surro- gate data” Physica D: Nonlinear Phenomena 58, nos. 1-4 (1992), 77-94. https://doi.org/10.1016/0167-2789(92)90102-S. [13] Plaksin, Anna. “Modelle zur computergestützten Analyse von Überlieferungen der Mensuralmusik: Empirische Textforschung im Kontext phylogenetischer Verfahren“. Darmstadt: Technische Universität Darmstadt, 2019. PhD dissertation. [14] Josquin. Masses based on secular polyphonic songs: Critical commentary, ed. Thomas Noblitt. New Josquin Edition 7. Utrecht: Vereniging voor Nederlandse Muziekgeschiedenis, 1997. [15] Josquin. Motets on non-biblical texts 2: Critical commentary, ed. Bonnie J. Blackburn. New Josquin Edition 22. Utrecht: Vereniging voor Nederlandse Muziekgeschiedenis, 2003. [16] Studier, James A., and Karl J. Keppler. “A note on the neighbor-joining algorithm of Saitou and Nei” Molecular biology and evolution 5, no. 6 (1988), 729-31. 10.1093/oxfordjournals.molbev.a040527. http://data.onb.ac.at/rec/AC09229566 https://digi.vatlib.it/mss/detail/Capp.Sist.14 https://digi.vatlib.it/mss/detail/Capp.Sist.14 https://digi.vatlib.it/mss/detail/Capp.Sist.41 https://digi.vatlib.it/mss/detail/Capp.Sist.41 http://diglib.hab.de/drucke/2-8-musica-2s/start.htm http://diglib.hab.de/drucke/2-8-musica-2s/start.htm http://data.onb.ac.at/rec/AC09319724 http://data.onb.ac.at/rec/AC09170773 http://www.jstor.org/stable/30234249 http://hdl.handle.net/20.500.11755/8436a210-ceeb-4c66-ba02-ffe5c7e66a42 http://www.jstor.org/stable/30200223 https://doi.org/10.1016/0167-2789(92)90102-S Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 95 Computer-Aided Analysis Across the Tonal Divide: Cross-Stylistic Applications of the Dis- crete Fourier Transform Jennifer Diane Harding Florida State University jdharding@fsu.edu Abstract The discrete Fourier transform is a mathematically robust way of modeling various musical phenomena. I use the music21 Python module to interpret the pitch classes of an encoded musical score through the discrete Fourier transform (DFT). This methodology offers a broad view of the backgrounded scales and pitch-class collections of a piece. I have selected two excerpts in which the composers are very frugal with their pitch class collections—one in a tonal idiom, the other atonal. These constrained vocabularies are well suited for intro- ducing the DFT’s methodological strengths as they pertain to score analysis. Introduction The discrete Fourier transform (DFT) has recently gained traction in the music theory community as a math- ematically robust way of modeling various musical phenomena. Theorists have used the DFT to model har- monic motion [1], set class similarity [2], meter [3], and the analysis of larger musical excerpts [4]. The work presented in this article falls into this last category. I use the music21 Python module to interpret the pitch classes of an encoded musical score through the discrete Fourier transform. This methodology offers a broad view of the backgrounded scales and pitch-class collections of a piece, what Dmitri Tymoczko refers to as “macroharmony”[5]. I have selected two excerpts in which the composers are very frugal with their pitch class collections—one in a tonal idiom, the other atonal. The exposition of the first movement of Mozart’s String Quartet No. 4 in C Major, K. 157 is almost entirely diatonic. The theme from Messiaen’s Theme and Variations for Violin and Piano adheres strictly to two of his modes of limited transposition. These constrained and highly symmetrical (in the case of Messiaen) harmonic vocabularies are well suited for introducing the DFT’s method- ological strengths as they pertain to score analysis. The discrete Fourier transform and pitch class collections The Fourier transform (FT) is a mathematical function that decomposes an input signal into its constituent sinusoidal components. In contrast, the discrete Fourier transform uses an array of discrete numbers, as op- posed to a continuous signal, as its input. This makes it possible to apply the DFT to the pitch-class content of musical scores: the counts of pitch classes become the input array. The results of the DFT provide information about the aural saliency of the input, which roughly correlate with the qualia of the familiar interval cycles [6]: is it chromatically clustered? Is it more “whole-tone” sounding? Is it “fifthy?” Applying the DFT to macroharmo- nies allows us to see a broad overview of a composition’s sound. The output of the DFT comes in the form of six non-trivial Fourier components, denoted f1, f2, f3, …f6. 1 Each component can be imagined as a circle with twelve positions or nodes where pitch classes are conceptually located, which I refer to as the component circle.2 The coefficient of each component reflects how far adjacent 1 The f 0 component is always equal to the cardinality of the set. Components f 7 – f 11 are mirror images of components f 1 – f 5 and are there- fore redundant. 2 The number 12 here comes from examining the twelve pitch classes. In music with quarter-tones, we would use 24 nodes. If we were examining meter, we might use four nodes for the four beats of a quadruple meter, or 16 nodes if we were looking at every six- teenth-note subdivision. The number of nodes is dependent upon the length of the input array. 96 integers (indicating pitch classes) are separated: on the f1 component circle, each pitch class is one node apart from its neighbor; on the f2 component circle, pitch classes are placed every two nodes, and so on. Figure 1 shows all six of the non-trivial Fourier components as component circles. Figure 1: The six non-trivial Fourier components. The values from a pitch -class array can be plotted on a component circle as vectors, each with a length or magnitude (equal to the corresponding value of the array) and a direction or phase (expressed as an angle).3 The pitch class’s position on the component circle determines the vector’s phase. The vectors are added to- gether by positioning them head-to-tail, resulting in a new vector from the origin of the circle to the end of the chain.4 The magnitude and phase of this resultant vector for every Fourier component is the output of the DFT. This process is shown in Figure 2, mapping the C-major diatonic collection onto the f1 and f5 component circles. The resultant magnitude of the f1 component indicates how chromatic the collection is. From the very low magnitude of 0.27, we can say that the diatonic collection is not very chromatically clustered (indeed we know that it is minimally chromatic for a septachord). In contrast, the f5 component indicates how “fifthy” a collection is, and from the very high magnitude of 3.73, we can say that the diatonic collection is very fifthy (indeed, maximally so). 3 0° is positioned due East, as on a polar coordinate system. 4 Since vector addition is both commutative and associative, the actual order in which the vectors are added does not matter. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 97 Figure 2: The C Major diatonic collection mapped onto the f1 and f5 component circles Of note is the fact that on the f5 component circle, the resultant vector for the C-major diatonic collection does not pass through pc0, the tonic (Figure 2(d)). Instead, it passes exactly through pc2 (60°), the point of symme- try for the collection. Of course, in music we rarely see exactly one instance of each pitch class together like this. Rather, some pitch classes will be omitted while others are duplicated. If we account for the number of times each pitch class is present in a passage by using multisets—sets that allow for multiple instances of each element—the phase of the resultant vector will probably not pass quite so cleanly through pc2, but rather somewhere in its vicinity. A quantizing function snaps the phase to the nearest node, making the data more comprehensible. On the f5 component, a diatonic collection will quantize to its scale-degree 2, meaning that we can use the phase as an indicator of the key of a largely diatonic passage. Or, more accurately, we can use the phase to identify the implied key signature. 98 Methodology I built my computational apparatus in Python using music21,5 a Python module developed by Michael Cuth- bert and Christopher Ariza at MIT [7]. Music21 parses many different symbolic music file formats: MusicXML, MIDI, MEI, Humdrum, and Lilypond, to name a few. The file is converted to a stream, the fundamental object in music21. Streams store pieces of score information (note objects, articulations, barlines, etc.) in a hierarchical structure reminiscent of XML. Each object in the stream is located at a particular offset—or point in time from the beginning of the piece—as measured in quarter-note units. To process the score, I create a window of a constant number of beats. As the window slides across the score, incrementing by beat, the program performs the DFT on the pitch content contained within that window.6 This continues until the end of the score, creating a series of overlapping windows in much the same way that a camera takes multiple pictures and stitches them together to create a panoramic photo . For some pieces of music, the process of sliding the window by a beat is computationally trivial because the meter is both constant and symmetrical. To slide the window forward by a beat, the beginning and end of the window offsets can simply be increased by the length of the beat. However, music with asymmetrical or changing meters pose more of a problem and require a much more flexible system. The solution was to use the music21 method getContextByClass() to retrieve the meter of every measure regardless of whether the <time> tag (used to indicate a meter signature) is present in the XML. Then, using the music21 object Me- terSequence and its various partition methods, I create a list of the offsets that correspond with beat location which becomes the basis for incrementing the window. This helps to ensure that the portion of music being examined is always a meaningful unit. The program has three possible strategies for how to count pitch classes in each window: onset, duration, and a flat set. The onset and duration options both return multisets. Onset counts how many times a pitch class is attacked within the window. If a note is initiated once and sustained, it will only be counted once, whereas if it is repeated, it is counted again for every repetition. The duration option returns the total duration of every pitch class within the window, even if a note was initiated before the window began. The flat set option counts each pitch class only once, regardless of how many times it appears on the musical surface. In essence it asks the binary question: “is this pitch class present?” These three options provide different ways of interpreting the pitch class data of the score, with each representing a different potential hearing of the music based on which parameters the listeners attend to. Figure 3 shows Cipriano de Rore’s madrigal “Calami sonum ferentes” processed with each of these three approaches. The top two examples, using the onset and duration options, look fairly similar. This is a result of the voices tending to articulate each note just once as part of a melody rather than retaining the same pitch for multiple syllables. The f5 component is quite jagged, indicating that while the diatonic collection is the primary background collection, chromaticism is suppressing its saliency. The graph showing the flat option confirms this, at times dropping to 0 in all components, which indicates that the entire chromatic aggregate is present in that window. 5 http://web.mit.edu/music21 6 The idea of combining the DFT with a sliding window was first proposed by Matthew Chiu at the 2019 Annual Conference of Music Theory Midwest. I am grateful for his correspondences on the topic. http://web.mit.edu/music21 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 99 Figure 3: Three analyses of Cipriano de Rore’s “Calami sonum ferentes.” Calculating the onsets is made complicated by the fact that in music21, the Tie class represents the visual and conceptual idea of tied notes. However, it retains the individual identity of the two different note objects rather than interpreting them as a single, long durational entity. Rather, music21 reads two individual notes. To com- 100 pensate for this, the onset option relies on the music21 method stripTies(), which replaces all tied notes with a single note having a duration equal to all the tied constituents. This ensures that only one instance of the note is counted. The duration option uses the music21 method sliceByBeat(), which splits a note at the beat offsets that music21 determines based upon the local time signature. Since the window increments every beat, this en- sures that when the window boundary intersects a held note, the duration of the note within the window is accounted for and the portion outside the window is omitted. The flat option processes in the same way to avoid “missing” any notes whose durations began before the beginning of the window. Once all the pitch-class arrays are collected, I weight the data with a logarithmic scale. The weighting proce- dure helps to shape the data to match our cognitive experience with the music. As the frequency of an indi- vidual pitch class increases, the information value of any given instance of that pitch class decreases. Because of its uniqueness, a single instance of a pitch class will have a relatively high influence. Musically speaking, this is equivalent to saying that the lone appearance of scale-degree sharp-4 will be more salient than repeated occurrences of scale-degree 1. The general profile of the array will stay the same—the higher frequency of scale-degree 1 will still have a greater effect than the single sharp-4, but the higher values will be flattened out. Finally, I apply the DFT to each of the arrays and store the data in Pandas (a Python library used for data manipulation and analysis) data frames.7 These tables are then used for queries and generating visualizations of the data. Analysis The graph in Figure 4 shows the magnitudes of all six Fourier components in the exposition to the first move- ment of Mozart’s String Quartet No. 4 in C Major, K. 157, generated with a 16-beat sliding window using the duration valuation of pitch classes. The mass of lavender represents the f5 component, and its prevalence indi- cates that perfect fifths or diatonicity (i.e., sticking to only the notes that are native to a particular key signature) is the most salient feature of the harmonic landscape. Figure 4: Magnitudes of the six Fourier components in the exposition of Mozart K. 157, I. Figure 5 extracts the f5 magnitude from Figure 4 and overlays both the raw phase data and the quantized phase. Since the phase of the f5 component correlates with implied key signature, we can use this information to infer that the piece begins with 0 sharps or flats (indicated by the 60° position) and moves to 1 sharp (indi- 7 https://pandas.pydata.org https://pandas.pydata.org Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 101 cated by the 90° position sometime around the 75th window and generally remains there for the rest of the exposition. In other words, we see evidence of the modulation to the dominant. Figure 5: Magnitudes and phase of the f5 component in the exposition of Mozart K. 157, I. The theme from Messiaen’s Theme and Variations for Violin and Piano adheres strictly to his second (octatonic) and third modes of limited transposition, a very different harmonic context than Mozart’s. Figure 6 shows the magnitudes of the six Fourier components generated with a 16-beat sliding window using the onset valuation of pitch classes. The three-part construction of the theme is apparent based on which Fourier components are the most salient (have the highest magnitude). The first section is in AA’ form, with the triple peaks of the f6 component (in windows 1-11 and again around 31-41) showing the similarity of the beginnings of the two A repetitions most clearly. Figure 6: Magnitudes of the six Fourier components in the Theme from Messiaen’s Theme and Variations for Violin and Piano. The magnitude of the f4 component is extracted in Figure 7 and shown along with the phase and quantized phase. The high magnitudes in the f4 component and the phase at -60° indicate the presence of the Octatonic 01 collection (Messiaen’s second mode of limited transposition), in much the same way that the position of phase can be used to determine the implied key signature when the f5 component reaches a high magnitude. 102 Figure 7: Magnitude and phase of the f4 component in Messiaen’s Theme. Messiaen’s third mode of limited transposition is a bit more subtle to tease out. Mode 3 can be thought of as a scale built of repeated <half-half-whole> step patterns or, more productively for our use, as a combination of three of the four augmented triads (interval-class 4-cycles, represented by f3 ). This further means that it includes one of the two whole-tone scales (2-cycles, represented by f6) and half of the other. Looking at the first and third sections of the piece (Figure 6), Fourier components f3 and f6 are the most salient. While the magni- tude is high, the phase of f6 (shown in Figure 8) stays at 0°, the angle indicating the even whole-tone collection. However, if this were just a whole-tone collection, the vectors in the f3 component would cancel each other out (Figure 10), effectively removing f3 from the graph, and the magnitude of f6 would be even higher than it is. Clearly this is not the case as the magnitude for the f3 component is relatively high, close to that of f6. The f3 phase hovers around 90° (Figure 9), the location of three pitch classes (3, 7, and 11) that are not included in the even whole-tone collection as shown in Figure 10. The presence of these three pitch classes dramatically bol- sters the f3 component, but has the opposite effect on the f6 component, substantially lowering its magnitude. Figure 8: Magnitude and phase of the f6 component in Messiaen’s Theme. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 103 Figure 9: Magnitude and phase of the f3 component in Messiaen’s Theme. Figure 10: Third mode of limited transposition mapped onto the f3 and f6 component circles. Discussion and conclusion Examining macroharmonies through the DFT clearly displays a broad overview of a piece’s sonic landscape, and it does so in a completely quantifiable and mathematically precise way. These two brief analyses offer a limited view into this methodology and its capabilities; many other variants exist. The overview can be as blurred or as granular as the analyst wishes by adjusting the size of the sliding window. Music based in oth- er collections that equally divide the octave is evaluated with as much ease as our 12-note chromatic world, opening the door to examine other understudied repertoires simply by changing the length of the input array. Different modes of listening can be modeled by using the different pitch class evaluation strategies (onset, duration, and flat set). The DFT can also function as a key-finding algorithm—a long-studied topic in both music cognition and com- putation. It is typically not enough to examine just the f5 component to determine a key, as in the simple[MB1] Mozart example here. Instead, components f2 and f3 also play strong roles in tonal music, fluctuating based 104 on sounding harmony while f5 remains stable [8]. The DFT provides a mathematically robust way to model harmonic and tonal activity by tracking motion through f2/3/5 space [1]. Perhaps most significantly, this is a single methodology that is equally applicable to music from a wide vari- ety of genres, time periods, and styles. As long as the music can be encoded with discrete pitches and rhythms, this approach will have something to say about it. Many music-analytical techniques are bound to a particular repertoire. The DFT is stylistically and historically agnostic, allowing for a more unified understanding of music writ large. Works cited [1] Yust, Jason. “Harmonic Qualities in Debussy’s ‘Les sons et les parfums tournent dans l’air du soir’” Journal of Mathematics and Music 11, nos. 2-3 (2017), 155-73. [2] Tymoczko, Dmitri. “Set-Class Similarity, Voice Leading, and the Fourier Transform.” Journal of Music Theory 52, no. 2 (2008), 251-72. [3] Amiot, Emmanuel. Music through Fourier Space: Discrete Fourier Transform in Music Theory. Cham, Switzerland: Springer International Publishing, 2016. [4] Chiu, Matthew. “A systematic approach to macroharmonic progressions: Durufle’s Requiem through Fourier Space” presented at the Thirtieth Annual Conference of Music Theory Midwest, Cincinnati, OH, May 10-11, 2019. [5] Tymoczko, Dmitri. A Geometry of Music: Harmony and Counterpoint in the Extended Common Practice. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2011. [6] Quinn, Ian. “General Equal-tempered Harmony: Parts 2 and 3” Perspectives of New Music 44, no. 2 (2006), 114-58. [7] Cuthbert, Michael Scott, and Christopher Ariza. “Music21: A Toolkit for Computer-Aided Musicology and Symbolic Music Data” in Proceedings of the International Society for Music Information Retrieval (ISMIR 2010), 637-42. [8] Yust, Jason. “Probing Questions about Keys: Tonal Distributions through the DFT” in Mathematics and Computation in Music, Proceed- ings of the Sixth International Conference (MCM 2017). Vol. 10527 of Lecture Notes in Artificial Intelligence, eds. Octavio A Agustin-Aquino, Emilio Lluis-Puebla, and Mariana Montiel. Cham, Switzerland: Springer International Publishing, 167-79. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 105 Preventing Conversion Failure across Encod- ing Formats: A Transcription Protocol and Representation Scheme Considerations Emilia Parada-Cabaleiro Álvaro Torrente Universidad Complutense de Madrid (Spain) Universidad Complutense de Madrid (Spain) eparada@iccmu.es atorrente@iccmu.es Abstract Conversion issues across musical symbolic representations, such as musicXML, MEI, and humdrum, are well known. Often, these depend on methodological choices undertaken during the generation and processing of the data. For a better under-standing of this topic, we present a transcription protocol, result of trial and error transcription attempts performed with Finale engraving software, which aims to prevent conversion errors (Verovio 2.1.0 and VHV were taken into account for conversion) from musicXML (export format from Finale) to MEI and **kern (symbolic representations also evaluated). Introduction Original written sources, both manuscripts and prints, represent an enormous part of western music heri- tage; these, since only the original remains for some repertoires, possess an invaluable historical value. To encourage preservation, analysis, and performance, the transcription of these sources is of great interest in musicology, whose goal is often the creation of diplomatic, critical, and practical editions [1]. Despite these sources have raised great interest also in Music Information Retrieval (MIR), and although the understanding of this repertoire would incredibly benefit from a Musicology–MIR collaborative approach, the connection be- tween these two disciplines is limited by the application of generally accepted practice. Musicologists’ strong predisposition towards specific notation software [2 , pp. 43–66] and the lack of maintenance of MIR tools no longer sponsored by the creator’s institutions [3], impair, e.g., an effective translation across encoding formats [4, 5]. We present a case study based on the 18th century Italian opera—handwritten versions of Demofoonte by different composers were considered—which analyses Musicology–MIR methodological incompatibilities by evaluating the transcription techniques traditionally used in musicology, as well as examining two typical symbolic data representations: MEI [6], rendered with Verovio;1 and the Humdrum representation scheme **kern [7], engraved through Verovio Humdrum Viewer (VHV).2 Transcription protocol to guarantee musicXML quality Engraving software configuration 1. To prevent data loss and ‘artefacts’ generation, metadata, as e.g., composer, should be indicated in the score manager. 2. To reduce misinterpretation risks, all the parameters defined in the engraving software, such as dynam- ics or repeat marks, should be introduced, when possible, prioritising the software’s default options, rather than using text indications. 1 https://www.verovio.org 2 https://verovio.humdrum.org 106 Transcription of 18th century hand-written sources 3. Missing repeat expressions, such as Fine, are typical in 18th arias, e.g., it might be pointed out Da Capo al Fine without having previously indicated Fine. In order to avoid ambiguities which would impair com- putational processes, e.g., the function repeat.expander in music21 [8], partial instructions should be completed. 4. Incomplete measures are typically associated in the presented repertoire to repeat expressions. To prevent duration discrepancies [9], these should be corrected in the transcription, by indicating repeat brackets if needed. For divisi (voices written in different layers of a staff) and redundant information, such as duplicated rests, should be hidden instead of omitted. 5. Mid-note dynamics, i.e., dynamics that start at the middle of a long note, are also typical editorial choices [10]. To avoid that mid-note dynamics are automatically associated to the consecutive note in **kern, these should be linked to the note’s attack and then manually shifted in the engraving software. Although this does not codify the mid-note dynamic in its exact position, guarantees that it is not connected to the wrong note. 6. Mixed dynamics, i.e., dynamics made up of by the combination between standard letters (e.g., pp) and text expressions (e.g., poco), contrary to what expected, should not be introduced in the engraving soft- ware as new dynamic marks. In order to prevent information loss, each element (letter and text) should be individually associated to the same note. 7. Similar to unclosed ties [9], the confusion between ties and slurs is also an unexpected behaviour that would lead to ambiguous interpretation; this engraving mistake should be carefully prevented. MEI and HUMDRUM conversion and rendering issues 1. The Segno ( ), i.e., the symbol used as a ‘navigation marker’ after an Al Segno is found, is lost in the con- version from musicXML to MEI and **kern. Similarly, the repeat expressions Al Segno and Da Capo are also lost in **kern. 2. Repeat brackets, i.e., numbered brackets to indicate a different ending for the first play and its repetition, are lost in the conversion from musicXML to **kern. Furthermore, the use of the repeat option ‘go to measure’ in the engraving software introduces, in both MEI and **kern, ‘artefacts’, since interpreted as a textual indication. 3. In MEI, dynamics’ positions are expressively defined by the attribute time stamp (tstamp), which gives the specific horizontal alignment between the expression and the measure; this enables the codification of mid-note dynamics. Differently, in **kern, dynamics are automatically linked to the attack of the note to which they belong to; this impairs the assignment of mid-note dynamics, which to be correctly displayed should be indicated later on in the **dynam spine (cf. Figure 1). Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 107 Figure 1: At the left, above: mid-note dynamic p wrongly linked in **kern to the attack of the consecutive note, i.e., the first note of the next measure (number 35); below: correct codification of the mid-note dynamic to the whole note in measure 34. The musical samples engraved with VHV are displayed at the right, above: wrongly codified; below: correct. This example was taken from the aria Misero Pargoletto, com- posed by Leonardo Leo in 1735. 4. Splitting mixed dynamics prevents their loss during conversion; cf. (iv) in the section ‘Transcription Protocol’. Yet, to enable a correct rendering, the individual elements should be reassembled again after conversion. Although this guarantees a correct rendering in MEI, mixed dynamics in **kern (e.g., molto f or pf ) might not be engraved. 5. In the translation to **kern, despite no conversion failure, tremolos are totally lost. Conclusion Through these guidelines we aim to minimise incompatibilities between Musicology and MIR, linked to tran- scription methods typical of music editions. Furthermore, to encourage Musicology–MIR collaborative ap- proaches, we also pointed out encoding limitations that could be addressed in future. Although some ele- ments were lost during conversion, MEI and **kern syntax present also advantages w.r.t. musicXML, as, e.g., the possibility to codify mixed dynamics as unique instances. Acknowledgements This work is a result of the Didone Project, which has received funding from the European Research Coun- cil (ERC) under the European Union’s Horizon 2020 research and innovation programme, Grant agreement No. 788986 Works Cited [1] Broude, Ronald. “Musical works, musical texts, and musical editions” Scholarly Editing: The Annual of the Association for Documen- tary Editing 33 (2012), 1–29. http://www.scholarlyediting.org/2012/essays/essay.broude.html [2] Wiering, Frans. “Digital critical editions of music: A multidimensional model” in Modern Methods for Musicology, eds. Tim Crawford and Lorna Gibson. London, UK: Routledge, 2016. [3] Gardiner, Eileen, and Ronald G. Musto. The digital humanities: A primer for students and scholars. Cambridge, UK: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, 2015. [4] Nápoles López, Néstor, Gabriel Vigliensoni, and Ichiro Fujinaga. “The effects of translation between symbolic music formats: A case study with Humdrum, Lilypond, MEI, and MusicXML” presented at the Music Encoding Conference, Vienna, Austria, May 29-June 1, 2019. [5] Parada-Cabaleiro, Emilia, Anton Batliner, and Björn Schuller. “A diplomatic edition of il Lauro Secco: Ground truth for OMR of white mensural notation” in Procceedings of the 20th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2019), 557–64. [6] Roland, Perry, Andrew Hankinson, and Laurent Pugin. “Early music and the music encoding initiative” Early Music 42 (2014), 605–11. [7] Huron, David. “Music information processing using the Humdrum Toolkit: Concepts, examples, and lessons” Computer Music Journal 26 (2002), 11–26. [8] Cuthbert, Michael Scott, and Christopher Ariza. “music21: A toolkit for computer-aided musicology and symbolic music data” in Pro- ceedings of the 11th International Society for Music Information Retrieval Conference (ISMIR 2010), 637–42. 108 [9] Nápoles López, Néstor, Gabriel Vigliensoni, and Ichiro Fujinaga. “Encoding matters” in Proceedings of the 5th International Confer- ence on Digital Libraries for Musicology (DLfM ’18), 69–73. https://doi.org/10.1145/3273024.3273027. [10] Günter, Raphael. “Ludwig van Beethoven Klaviertrios”. Munich, Germany: G. Henle Verlag, 1992. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 109 Integrating Score Rendition in the MEI Garage Klaus Rettinghaus, Daniel Röwenstrunk, Johannes Kepper Integrating Score Rendition into the The MEI Garage is a toolbox for various tasks related to MEI, but also other encoding formats. Besides the possibility to customize the MEI framework for specific needs, turning it into a reasonable format for a given purpose, one major aspect of the MEI Garage is that it provides easy-to-use conversions between MEI and a growing num- ber of other music encoding formats, including MusicXML. This is possible through both a guided web interface and a REST API. Up till now, however, the range of allowed conversion targets did not include image formats – it was not possible to use MEI Garage to render an MEI file (or data in any other format) into a score. We are happy to announce that this limitation has been removed by integrating two independent rendering tools. Verovio has had a major impact on the dissemination of MEI since its introduction at MEC2014 in Charlottesville. Before then, it was barely possible to render MEI into score format at all. Today, Verovio is the de-facto standard for rendering MEI, and with its ability to interface with other formats as well, is used well beyond the context of MEI itself. Lilypond is another renderer for music scores. It is focussed on off- line rendering, and is much closer aligned with traditional workflows allowing manual optimization of the layout. It is often conceived as the open source renderer with the best layout quality. With the MEILER scripts (MEI Lilypond Engra- ving Refinement), it is possible to translate MEI data in Lilypond‘s own input format. We have integrated both Verovio and Lilypond into the MEI Garage, allowing the user to go all the way from music encoding formats to graphics output. Both Verovio and Lilypond allow to export SVG and PDF. As MEI Garage automatically chains multiple transformations if necessary, this gives the user great flexibility and allows to render scores encoded in a variety of encoding formats. Conversion between MEI and other music encoding formats has never been easier. With our recent addition to MEI Garage, it is possible to go all the way to PDF or SVG output, with two of the most relevant open source renderers for music notation. By using the REST API, it is easily possible to include that functionality into diverse ap- plications and workflows. We envision to also include audio output in the near future. GolliwoggsCakewalk.mei Verovio Lilypond Klaus Rettinghaus rettinghaus@bach-leipzig.de Daniel Röwenstrunk roewenstrunk@upb.de Johannes Kepper kepper@edirom.de curl -F "fileToConvert=@GolliwoggsCakewalk.mei" -X POST https://meigarage.edirom.de/ege-webservice/Conversions/mei40%3Atext%3Axml/lilypond%3Atext%3Ax-lilypond/pdf-lilypond%3Aapplication%3Apdf/ https://meigarage.edirom.de Lilypond curl -F “fileToConvert=@GolliwoggsCakewalk.mei” -X POST https://meigarage.edirom.de/ege-webservice/Conversions/mei40%3Atext%3Axml/pdf-verovio%3Aapplication%3Apdf/ 110 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 111 Multimedia from the 17th-Century Book to the 21st-Century Web – A Playable Digital Edition of Michael Maier's "Atalanta fugiens" Patrick Rashleigh, Crystal Brusch Lessons Learned COMPLICATION Collaborating across disciplines, practices, and media formats Performers recording audio, engravers notating in Sibelius, encoders working with MEI, and web programmers working with HTML, SVG, and Javascript -- which all needed to come together and create a single, synchronized web artifact. Change of practice to accommodate pipeline requirements Some problems could be overcome through automated scripting, but some could not. For example, the performers had to sing against a click track, and the programmer had to perform manual copy editing. Have early, frequent conversations with collaborators Be sure to discuss how everyone’s pieces fit into the larger process. Build and test the whole process as early as possible against real, complicated data; don’t wait for collaborators to finalize up their work. ADVICESOLUTION Tool biases General-purpose tools such as Sibelius and Verovio have particular ways of handling “edge cases,” that don’t always integrate well. In our case, our material dated from the early 17th century — and we were re-publishing in two different modern variants in two format (PDF and the web). COMPLICATION Custom scripting and manual editing Unlike human collaborators, tools’ behaviour often can’t be changed; instead, solutions involved a combination of scripted workarounds, manual interventions, and changed expectations. SOLUTION Use MEI as an intermediate format MEI is great because it is both human- and machine-readable, and easily processed by custom scripts, allowing for custom accommodations and workarounds. In order to facilitate troubleshooting, break your process into many steps, creating intermediate MEI files along the way for inspection. ADVICE Unexpected complexity Integrating live performance, notation, visualizations, and web technologies is complicated — inevitably more complicated than you think! Throw in versioning and modernization and multiple output formats (interactive web and PDF) and you have a lot of moving parts. COMPLICATION Strong project management, continuous communication, flexible timelines An early prototype with oversimplified test data suggested that this process would be straightforward; it was not. Real data presented many unexpected complications and led to time budget overruns. SOLUTION Assume that it will take longer and be harder than expected Plan early, but expect changes of plans. Establish strong communication and clear expectations between collaborators. As much as possible, favor automated interventions over manual ones; it is better to develop a repeatable automated process than manually copy edit. ADVICE Example Challenge: Accommodating “long” duration notes Start time: 33.92s End time: 40s The following is one instance of many complications that arose from the incorporation of different tools, collaborators, and practices. manually added by (human) encoder XSLT Transform Verovio + XSLT Transform The problem Verovio’s interpretation of the duration of the notes marked as “long” in the MEI doesn’t always match the performance practice recorded in the audio. (In performance, the durations vary) The solution Manually override the MEI by adding a custom @perf-dur attribute that indicates the duration in the performance. Generate fake notes in order to extract the specified timing. This modified MEI is then transformed into an intermediate MEI which is only used to generate timing data. The note with ‘long’ duration is converted into a series of half notes (the pitch of which is irrelevant). These ‘dummy’ notes provide the timing for the original long note — the begin time is the start of the first note, and the end time is the end of the last note. Verovio consumes the MEI and provides the timing data. The result The timing data is incorporated into the SVG published on the final website, using the custom attributes @data-time-start and @data-time-end, which allow the Javascript to synchronize animation with audio playback. The boxes in this process diagram are hyperlinked to a repository containing code or sample data. Extract and clean music data Sibelius MEI Cleaned MEI Sibelius-to-MEI plugin Adjust MEI for timing extraction (XSLT) Verovio on the command-line Extract timing (JSNode script with Verovio) Clean MEI (XSLT) MEI with timing adjustments (see aside) Common Music Notation (SVG) Table of MEI elements with timing (XML) Performance tempo and begin-time offset data (XML) Wrapping Verovio in a NodeJS script allows access to the Verovio getElementsAtTime() method with custom XML command line output Generate final output including piano roll visualization Final assembly and insertion into HTML template Final HTML/SVG fragment (see aside) Table of audio filenames (XML) This fragment itself feeds into the larger production pipeline for the Furnace and Fugue publication. Production Pipeline Generate CMN Generate timings to match recordings Furnace and Fugue is both a digital edition of and scholarly essays on Michael Maier’s Atalanta fugiens, a 17th-century alchemical emblem book. Each of the book’s 50 multilingual emblems includes a fugue for three voices, which represents the race between Atalanta and Hippomenes. The project modernized the polyphonic fugues into animated notation that is playable in a web browser. Our goals were to extend the limitations of the physical book and engage both musicologists and non-musicians. We did this by: Furnace & Fugue Key Features providing readers with a visual playback cue via note highlighting allowing readers to independently isolate the audio playback of the voices providing a piano roll visualization to highlight the melodic contours and imitative structures Multimedia from the 17th-Century Book to the 21st-Century Web A playable digital edition of Michael Maier’s Atalanta fugiens Credit and Acknowledgements This work forms a part of Furnace and Fugue (forthcoming with University of Virginia Press, Fall 2020, co-edited by Tara Nummedal and Donna Bilak), an online digital edition developed as part of Brown University’s Mellon-supported Digital Publications Initiative. Crystal Brusch is the publication designer for Furnace and Fugue. Patrick Rashleigh is the lead developer and UX lead for the music in Furnace and Fugue. Collaborators for the music include: music modernization and transcription by Robin Bier and Graham Bier; audio recording by Loren Ludwig, with performances by Luthien Brackett, Fred Jodry, Donald Meinecke, Charlotte Mundy, Molly Quinn, Elisa Sutherland, James Taylor, and Jonathan Woody. The Fugue 11 excerpt in the poster came from an essay by Eric Bianchi. Our thanks to the Andrew W. Mellon Foundation, whose support made this project possible. Our thanks also to those who built and shared the wonderful tools and standards used in this project, including (but far from limited to): Verovio, Saxon, and MEI. Submitted May 18, 2020. University Library Crystal Brusch Designer for Online Publications Brown University Library crystal_brusch@brown.edu Patrick Rashleigh Data Visualization Coordinator Brown University Library patrick_rashleigh@brown.edu 112 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 113 114 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 115 116 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 117 Implementing the Enhancing Music Addressability API for MusicXML Kevin Kuo, Raffaele Viglianti There are many different formats to computationally represent music notation, such as MEI, MusicXML, etc. To address this limitation, the EMA standard provides a system for selecting music notation based on commonly understood primitives: measures, staves, and beats. Implementations of EMA can run on a user’s local machine or on a remote server as a web service. INTRODUCTION The ability to “address” areas of a musical score is useful in music scholarship such as analysis and/or historical research. In this project, we implement software that enables us to “select” regions of MusicXML files, in accordance with the Enhancing Music Addressability (EMA) specification. EMA Homepage: http://music-addressability.github.io/ema/ EMA for MusicXML: https://github.com/music-addressability/ema-for-musicxml EMA API EXAMPLE SELECTION Implementing the “Enhancing Music Addressability” API for MusicXML Kevin Kuo, Raffaele Viglianti - MEC 2020 http://.../score.xml/2,3/1+2,3+4/@all Extracted score portion PARSING EMA EXPRESSIONS Figure 2. A sample score. The regions we want to extract are boxed in red. Figure 3. The score output from our software after selection is complete. Figure 1. An EMA expression divided into musical components. An “EMA expression” is a text sequence of the format: “{measureRanges}/{stavesToMeasures}/{beatsToMeasures}” measureRanges: Comma separated ranges of measures. stavesToMeasures: Staff ranges separated by + signs and mapped to measure ranges with commas. beatsToMeasures: Beat ranges marked by @ signs. Mapped to staff ranges by +, and mapped to measure ranges with commas. XML SLICING MusicXML is based on XML, a tree-based markup language. <measure number="2"> <note> <pitch> <step>E</step> <octave>4</octave> </pitch> <duration>60480</duration> <type>whole</type> <lyric> <syllabic>end</syllabic> <text>-tez</text> </lyric> </note> <note> ... </note> </measure> Given an EMA expression, we can traverse a music score (represented in XML) and check whether a measure/stave/beat should be selected. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS MITH Maryland Institute for Technology in the Humanities Purdom Lindblad Assistant Director of Innovation and Learning, MITH 118 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 119 120 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 121 Next Steps for Measuring Polyphony – A Prototype Editor for Encoding Mensural Music Karen Desmond, Andrew Hankinson, Laurent Pugin, Juliette Regimbal, Craig Sapp, Martha E. Thomae Next Steps for Measuring Polyphony A Prototype Editor for Encoding Mensural Music Karen Desmond, Brandeis University, Andrew Hankinson, Bodleian Libraries, University of Oxford, Laurent Pugin, Répertoire International des Sources Musicales, Juliette Regimbal, McGill University, Craig Sapp, Stanford University, Martha E. Thomae, McGill University Project background Project goals Methods/Approaches Project impact and next steps The Measuring Polyphony Mensural Editor (click to play) The thirteenth and fourteenth centuries saw an unprecedented increase in the production of manuscripts trans- mitting music repertoires with a new diversity of styles, genres, and subject matter, copied in both music-only anthologies, and in miscellaneous collections that interweave song, text, and illuminations. At the same time, techniques for specifically notating rhythmic duration emerged, a notation called “mensural” or “measurable.” Almost all polyphonic music (music composed for two or more parts) from 1300-1600 is notated in mensural no- tation, the rules of which changed little from c. 1350. Yet modern print editions distance today’s readers from the original experience of this music: first, by translating the original notation into modern notation; and second, by sorting and classifying this repertoire according to conventions associated with the printed book (that is, present- ing it in volumes or series ordered by composer, genre, or country), rather than its presentation in the original manuscript. This poster presents an NEH-funded project to develop a prototype editor for encoding mensural notation (PI: Karen Desmond, Brandeis University). It builds on the Measuring Polyphony project (measuringpolyphony.org), a website that presents digitisations of polyphonic motets copied in late medieval manuscripts in mensural nota- tion. Coding of the editor prototype began in January 2020, and a workshop directly before the 2020 Music En- coding Conference evaluated the prototype in terms of its interface and design, accessibility, and interoperability, and advised on a plan for the project’s full implementation. This poster includes links to videos that outline the main functionality of the prototype and a summary of the project goals, impact, and next stages of development. Load a Manuscript into the manuscript viewer The support of the National Endowment for the Human- ities and Brandeis Universi- ty is gratefully acknowl- edged. An online mensural music editor will allow a variety of modern readers (students and experts, musicologists, music theorists, those interested in the history of music notation, the history of counterpoint, medieval palaeogra- phy or manuscript studies in general) to both access and contribute transcriptions of polyphonic music directly linked to digital images of the medieval manuscripts. The GUI prototype will allow users with no expertise in music encoding to encode large amounts of music data in mensural notation directly linked to digital images of the medieval manuscripts, thereby rapidly increasing medieval music repertoires available for study. Currently there is no editor, either commercially available or available as an open-source web application, that allows users to notate music in its mensural form. This is a significant problem in general for scholars of early music. In order to produce music examples in mensural notation to include in publications, for example, images must be generated within graphics software such as Adobe Illustrator, a time-consuming and non-intuitive pro- cess. Graphics software cannot capture any data about the music’s sounding aspects, that is, what the graph- emes mean in terms of their pitch and duration. This project addresses this need through the development of an open-source web-based editor designed to capture the shapes and the meaning of the mensural notation, follow- ing the encoding standards developed by the Music Encoding Initiative. Help videos (click to play) One envisioned outcome of the next stages of this project is the development of pedagogical modules in which students could learn about medieval notations: perhaps eventually providing a collective space to work on collaborative editions directly from, and linked to, the manuscript images. One pressing research question is whether the MEI data that captures the graphic infor- mation on the note shapes should be formally separated from the data necessary for score alignment and audio rendering. In some cases, the interpretation of the mensural shapes has only one correct answer, and follows specific rules established for mensural notation. But in other cases, the interpretation may be dependent on notational dialects used in a particular geo- graphic location, or on a particular scribal practice, or the interpretation may be unclear. Methods by which these “flavors” of notation might be abstracted in our data model and captured via the editor were discussed in the pre-MEC workshop. The major music editing projects of the twentieth century divorced the musical text from its parchment and ink origins, segre- gating them into composer- and genre-ordered print collections, converting their notation to modern equivalents, and secreting away detailed philological considerations into cryptic appendices. Since the late 1990s, the availability of high-resolution images of most manuscript sources of medieval polyphony, in particular through the groundbreaking open-access DIAMM ini- tiative (Digital Image Archive of Medieval Music, diamm.ac.uk) and through library-based repositories such as Gallica (galli- ca.bnf.fr), has prompted new investigations of medieval music within its original material contexts, as is also the case within medieval studies in general (the “new” philology). It is envisioned that the final implementation of this project will allow experts and non-experts to move seamlessly between manuscript image and hear audio realizations of the compositions found there (for projects that do similar things, but which are focused on text rather than music, see the projects French Renaissance Pale- ography, paleography.library.utoronto.ca and Digipal, digipal.eu). Users will learn how to directly contribute transcriptions of the hundreds of as yet unedited (or poorly edited) pieces, facilitating new corpus studies of musical style. In addition, since the mensural notation will be digitally encoded, this project will inform new understandings of regional and scribal notational prac- tices, and how changes in notation and representation engender changes in musical style. Software and standards leveraged in this project measuringpolyphony.github.io/mp_editor Enter some basic metadata Define staves by drawing around them Enter the pitches and rhythmic values Add ligatures while adding pitches Enter underlaid text Add a repeating tenor Add a more complex repeating tenor Save your work as you go Score up the parts and make corrections Simple editing of the score Downloading the MEI files humdrum.org https://hcommons.org/members/kdesmond/ http://measuringpolyphony.github.io/mp_editor https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPHmlrp-yOE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5QG1KVH-KE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fSiHQHZKuw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxPZE_i4eLc https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7z0FsgZAfs https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5t42u8cyRA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41Q2FVtMZBk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEUwxFN3BHA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_kykd2jgyw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zv9FyxPp9js https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiUz-sHzxlM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYj0ks2BzIc https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1uinKqSoEk 122 Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 123 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=f1uinKqSoEk http://measuringpolyphony.github.io/mp_editor 124 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TPHmlrp-yOE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=W5QG1KVH-KE https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6fSiHQHZKuw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=dxPZE_i4eLc https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p5t42u8cyRA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=r7z0FsgZAfs https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=41Q2FVtMZBk https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qEUwxFN3BHA https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p_kykd2jgyw https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zv9FyxPp9js https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xiUz-sHzxlM https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xYj0ks2BzIc Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 125 Traversing Eighteenth-Century Networks of Operatic Fame Estelle Joubert Fountain School of Performing Arts, Dalhousie University estelle.joubert@dal.ca Abstract This paper employs a digital project entitled “Visualizing Operatic Fame” to delve into three major issues in graph theory and network science: searching and pathfinding, influencers and hubs, and clusters and com- munities. Introduction “The public is the toughest and finest critic in the world, and yet, a clumsy folk tune is enough to amuse it for an entire year,” writes J.F. Schulze with some exasperation in the Deutsches Magazin in 1798 [1]. The late eigh- teenth century witnessed a remarkable capacity for the public (rather than rulers) to act as critic and supporter of the performing arts. This new context also witnessed the rise of the classics and the much-debated musical canon, which was taking shape at the same time as Schulze’s remarks. One might come away thinking that fame is fickle, subjective, and fleeting, thereby defying systematic analysis. And yet, the broader processes of collective ascriptions of value, and the emergence of the musical canon suggests that there may yet be some structure inherent these complex cultural processes. The question that lies at the heart of my current project is: how did music become famous at the time of the emergence of the classic? Did musical works acquire fame in view of criticism or performance? Are there broader patterns of attaining fame particular to specific artforms or, in the case of music, genres? The problem of canon formation and the classic, I believe, is really a network problem: we’re dealing with a dynamic network of people and things, and for the purposes of my project, people and things related to eigh- teenth-century opera. Librettists write operatic texts, sometimes in response to commissions or royal events; composers compose music, singers perform (and sometimes adapt arias), publishers print full operatic scores and collections of famous arias, manuscript copies of operas in full or part move via agents such as diplomats, travelers, or other composers; critics review opera performances and opera prints available to them, often via royal libraries or lending libraries. Some opera critics even comment on other critics’ assessments, for- ming long and complex inter-related chains of aesthetic assessments leading to canon formation. In effect, all of these “actors,” together contribute to processes of operatic fame. And, to be more precise, as physicist Albert-László Barabási puts it, “Networks are only the skeleton of complexity, the highways for various proces- ses that make our world hum. To describe society we must dress the links of the social network with actual dynamical interactions between people” [2, p. 225]. My efforts to “dress the links of eighteenth-century musical networks” find their home in a large-scale team SSHRC-funded project called “Visualizing Operatic Fame”. A project of this scope requires various kinds of expertise, and I gratefully acknowledge the contributions of my various team members: Austin Glatthorn (Postdoctoral Research Fellow), James Summerby-Murray (Technical Lead), Hilary McSherry (MA Candidate in Musicology); Shawn Henry (Graduate Research Assistant), Thomas Carberry (Undergraduate Research As- sistant), Paul G. Doerwald (Technical Consultant).1 Visualizing Operatic Fame asks the question: what factors contributed to operas being established as musical works during the latter half of the eighteenth century? Answering this question necessitates bringing together evidence from a wide range of sources (reviews, scores, performance calendars, catalogues and so forth). For computational purposes, this means a variety of data types. Each source type contains various kinds of data: for example, performance events (found primarily in 1 See the project website: http://operacanon.io This research was generously supported by an Insight Grant from the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. http://operacanon.io 126 theater calendars) includes the name of the opera, composer, date performed, names of performers (or at least the name of the troupe), and the performance space, usually, the name of the theatre. Since my project involves a range of data, it features distributed data governed by relationships. This em- phasis on relationships also determines the type of database. Most databases are relational databases, mean- ing that data is stored in highly structured tables; these tables can be linked using ids. By contrast, graph databases – the most famous example being facebook – emphasizes relationships between the nodes and are much easier to query. I decided to use a graph database, as the types of queries available to me in a relational database, simply didn’t answer my questions. For example: early on in the project I endeavored to find out which operas were the most famous in a given timeframe. My results were typically a list of operas, which I could visualize in a bar chart. Among the limitations of relational databases is that all entries are treated equally: if one were to survey opera reviews, for example, there is no way to distinguish between an opera re- view that is a paragraph in length versus one that is many pages in length. Each result in a relational database is weighted the same, and relationships are difficult to foreground or query. Visualizing Operatic Fame is a graph database powered by neo4j (the leading commercial graph database platform) and uses Cypher as query language. More recently, we have turned to using neo4j Bloom as our visualization tool, as it is now free for desktop use. The tool is designed to represent relationships not only between individuals (composers, opera singers, music publishers) but also objects related to operatic fame (scores, reviews, images of actors). The data-model has been tweaked a number of times so as to sharpen queries and visualizations. Figure 1: Current data model Currently, we have, for instance, people such as critic and composer, and objects such as journal as nodes (incidentally, these designations are known as labels for each node). Edges (these are arrows that connect nodes) are directional in neo4j and multiple connections between two nodes are possible. One of the central questions in theories of the musical canon is whether works become famous in view of multiple performances, or whether canon is really a function of music criticism. To get to the bottom of this debate, my data model Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 127 has an “ideal opera” node, which allows me to distinguish between opera performances (its own node) and opera reviews (also its own node). Put another way, I am able to distinguish between a review of a perfor- mance and the review of an operatic work, more generally. We have endeavored to be quite precise about the relationships, as it is also possible to search by relationship type. For example, in our data model a composer “composed” operas, whereas a librettist “wrote” a libretto and a critic “critiqued” an opera. This allows search- es that distinguish between the librettist’s and the composer’s relationship to an opera, potentially routing a query through a different path in the network. Although this representation of our data model does not show them, each of the nodes also have distinct properties, which facilitate querying. For instance, my Opera Per- formance node has 10 properties, some of which (city, coordinates, performance date) will allow us to map the results later on. Figure 2: neo4j Bloom interface, showing node properties (left) This also shows the datatype for each property, strings being the most common. My talk will use examples from this database, but it will focus more broadly on three common types of queries that one might encounter in graph theory: searching/pathfinding, influencers/hubs and clusters and communities. Traversing the Network: Searching and Pathfinding Given that my database contains over 37,000 nodes, it is obviously unworkable to call them all up at the same time. Instead, it is more productive to choose an entry-point into a graph and expand relationships as desired. I’ll begin with Maria Antonia Walpurgis, Saxon Electress and composer. She is important in the history of the musical canon as her operas were the first musical works to receive reviews that included in-text music exam- ples during the 1750s, in turn enabling detailed commentary on the score itself. Switching to neo4j Bloom, a visualization tool, the first step is to search for the composer node, Maria Antonia. 128 Figure 3: Searching for the composer node: Maria Antonia Clicking on the node allows one to see the various kinds of relationships, and it is possible to reveal some or all of these (I will reveal, in this case, the nodes associated with her most famous opera, Talestri). We now have two Maria Antonia nodes (a second one, as librettist, appears, as she also wrote the text to her opera). The full score node, in blue, can be expanded yet again, to reveal a review of that particular score by the critic Johann Friedrich Agricola. Figure 4: Expanding pathways connected to Maria Antonia’s Talestri Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 129 A number of strengths of a graph databases come to the fore here: first, reviews are not merely ascribed to a composer, or even a work. Instead, criticism can be directly ascribed to a specific performance of a work, the printing of a libretto, or the printing of a particular score. These results seem to reinforce the material dimen- sions of opera criticism; unlike later Kantian ideals associated with aesthetic autonomy and canon formation, visualizing how operatic criticism was generated uncovers just how directly reviews (and consequently also aesthetic judgements) were formed in response to the material conditions of operatic performance and mo- bility. One curious finding is that amongst the performances and prints that received criticism, the collected works edition of 1772 received no critical attention. Visualizing these connections thus offers a much more nuanced picture of which objects related to Maria Antonia’s operas actually effected fame, and which ones did not. In a sense, it prevents assumptions about what we often presume must have generated fame, and what demonstrably (or empirically) did. In addition to exploring the network starting with a particular node, it is also possible to search for pathways between two nodes. One of the most popular pathway searches in graph theory is the so-called “shortest path” search. This is particularly useful when trying to ascertain whether two people, or a place and person, for instance, are connected. For example, are there any direct connections between Gluck and Johann Adam Hiller? From here on forward, my queries have been done in the neo4j browser, as precise querying is easier than in neo4j Bloom. Figure 5: Shortest path search from Gluck to Hiller Here, the result is fairly simple: there was at least one connection (this one is the shortest path; there may be other longer paths). As it turns out, Gluck and Hiller were both reviewed by Daniel Gottlob Türk. Now, for a more complex example: did Mozart have connections to Berlin? We know that he traveled there once in 1789, but we’re now interested in how prominent Mozart’s music was there and how Berliners came to know the composer’s music. 130 Figure 6: Paths between Mozart and Berlin There are indeed many paths between Mozart and Berlin. The Mozart composer node is on the left-hand side; connected to it are two of his operas, Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte. Most of the connections in Berlin are reviews connected to five journals: the Berlinisches Archiv, Journal der Moden, Magazin der Musik, the Musika- lisches Wochenblatt and Berlinische Musikalische Zeitung (these are the yellow nodes). The red node without a label is the city of Berlin, and we also have connections to some of Berlin’s musical institutions, most notably the Königlich preussische Hofkapelle (the royal Prussian court chapel), the Königliche Oper (royal opera) and Döbbelin theatre troupe (these are also red nodes). Judging by the short titles of some of the reviews “Über Konzerte in Berlin” (Concerning concerts in Berlin) or “Öffentliche Musik in Berlin” (Public music in Berlin), one might surmise that some of these reviewers are describing eighteenth-century concerts, which often con- tained separate arias from operas, among other musical numbers.2 While some reviews offer direct coverage of an opera performance of Don Giovanni and Così fan tutte, it seems much more likely that Berliners might have gained familiarity with Mozart’s music through excerpts in public concert life and via reviews of his mu- sic (alongside publications of his scores, of course; the database does not yet list the vast quantities of sheet music circulating during this period). This search for pathways between Mozart and Berlin not only yielded a fairly complex portion of the network. It also hints at our next topic in graph theory: influencers and hubs. Influencers and Hubs In his ground-breaking work on network science, Albert-László Barabási examines the underlying structures of complex networks in a wide range of disciplines, including the movement of fish in oceans, the spread of disease, transportation as well as various social networks. Almost all networks, he argues, include an uneven distribution of nodes, the clustering of nodes, and ultimately the formation of hubs [4]. Music networks are no exception. For, as we are well aware, some composers received many more performances and much more critical attention than others. A search for hubs – nodes of particular importance – in the current dataset re- 2 For a discussion on programming concerts in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, see [3]. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 131 veals the following: the top seven influential nodes are: Johann Adam Hiller, Johann Gottlieb Naumann, Chris- toph Willibald Gluck, Johann Friedrich Hönicke, Antonio Bianchi, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, and Friedrich Ludwig Brandes (these are in orange, Figure 7). Neo4j has grouped these in clusters, surrounded by nodes representing their popular works (in pink) and reviews that generated fame in the public mind (in green). Figure 7: Composer hubs It is also possible to get a view of these hubs in the network, and this reveals much more context surrounding these influencers. Focusing in on Gluck, for example, we notice that his composer node is close to that of his librettist, Calzabigi. The works that are most prominent (pink nodes) are L’arbre enchanté, Iphigénie en Aulide, Alceste and Armide. Orfeo et Euridice, a work often taught in music history surveys, seems to have far fewer connections. I would seem that Alceste, has many more connections to music criticism. Notably, the German version of Alceste (likely performed in Vienna in the early nineteenth century), did not feature prominently in criticism. What is missing here, and indeed, is a next step for this project, is the dimension of time. For fame can indeed be fleeting, and queries such as this one show only a representation of the entire period, 1750- 1815. If one were to query by decade or indeed, create a dynamic time-lapse representation, one would like see that Gluck’s fame was established with the discourse surrounding Alceste, that his fame remained relatively stable, and that toward the late eighteenth and early nineteenth century (that is, after the composer’s death), his fame was sustained by performances rather than continued criticism. Performances of works such as L’ar- bre enchanté, Iphigénie en Aulide and Armide were staples in early nineteenth century Vienna, when there was a craze for French opera (often performed in German), following the arrival of Napoleon’s troupes in the city in 1806. Scrolling a bit to the right, one also gets a sense of how Gluck is connected to the broader network of eighteenth-century opera: he is connected to Lully through a review entitled “Gluck und Lulli” but he is also connected to Handel and Rameau through criticism (Figure 8). 132 Figure 8: Close-up of composer hubs Moving to the lower left-hand corner, we also see the prominent hub of a lesser-known composer and musi- cian: Antonio Bianchi. Figure 9: Structures of composer hubs And here, the obvious question is: do the hubs of canonic composers look different in structure compared to those who are lesser known. And, for scholars interested in machine learning and AI, the obvious next step is: can one predict fame, especially for musicians today? Neo4j does offer some predictive algorithms in their Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 133 graph data science playground, though they are relatively new and still experimental. At first glance, Bianchi seems to have composed a similar number of operas, compared to Gluck and most of his operas are connect- ed to a review, an ideal opera and a librettis. Figure 10: Yet somehow the Bianchi hub simply looks much cleaner than the Gluck hub; fewer pathways traverse through the node, and the context seems “less messy” if you will. While it is far too soon to connect messy networks structures to lasting fame – clearly much more work remains to be done on this – this idea of patterns of fame surrounding hubs holds much promise. Clusters and Communities Hubs bring to prominent nodes (individuals or works) to foreground, while community detection in graph theory is concerned with similar things naturally grouping together. In a social network, some nodes naturally have more connections than others, and musical communities form around performance events, genres, de- bates in music criticism, societies in particular cities and star singers, to name only a few. It is fair to assume that communities play a substantial role in generating musical fame and by extension, canon formation. Much more challenging, however, is to uncover these communities in a given network and analyze patterns within those communities. Let’s begin with a relatively simple example: a search for troupes connected to perfor- mances of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte (Figure 11). 134 Figure 11: Performances of Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte The query returns a range of clusters of performances, each stemming from a theatre troupe or resident theatre company. The largest cluster, of course, is the Theater auf der Wieden in Vienna, where the Mozart’s famous opera was premiered. But, as is evident, the opera was also performed at the Kärtnertortheater in Vienna, the National Theatre in Berlin and the Prague National Theater (these are three second largest com- munities). Subsequently, we have even smaller centers such as Mannheim and Innsbruck as well as traveling troupes such as the Schuch and Vollotini companies. Queries such as this one tell us about the relative size of performance clusters for a famed opera, which is a useful for a broader bird’s eye-view perspective, perhaps prior to zeroing in on a particular group. Yet along with communities comes the challenge that social networks do not only have bi-directional edges, but in some cases, especially in global music mobility, there are asymmetrical power-relationships at play. Here, I turn to an example from the work of one of my students, Sr. Ilaria Culshaw, and her paper for my re- search seminar on operatic mobilities [Figure 12]. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 135 Figure 12: Sr. Ilaria Culshaw’s visualization of French-Siamese relations using graph9 Culshaw graphed (using our custom graph visualization software called graph9) French-Siamese musical en- counters between Louis XIV and the Phra Narai in the late seventeenth century [5]. Her work was based on primary source documents analyzed in a study by my colleague David R. M. Irving in his article, Lully in Siam (present-day Thailand).3 One of the figures in her essay represents the two communities, each with their re- spective monarch in the centre. That all the arrows point back to each of the monarchs arguably illustrates an important point about these societies: power is concentrated at the centre and in a single person in monarchi- cal societies. In this particular diplomatic visit, cultural exchange could only be facilitated by people and things represented here by a few common nodes: some ambassadors from both parties and a letter of 1673. With so few commonalities, it is perhaps unsurprising that this cross-cultural encounter went awry, like so many others in the early modern period. This example illustrates two notable features of graph theory: that two communities can exist entirely on their own, at great geographic distance, and that it only takes a few (some- times even one) connecting node to suddenly collapse the distance between two far-away communities. Of course, important nodes that connect two otherwise separate communities appear, disappear, and reappear over time. Second, at least on French soil there was an asymmetrical power-relationship at play. More so- phisticated graphing tools and algorithms able to cope with weighted nodes would bring these asymmetrical relationships into relief. While monarchical societies have a particular structure, so do democratic societies, and my database re- flects society at a time in which liberal-democratic ideals were just beginning to take hold. Public perceptions of fame reigned supreme by the eighteenth-century, as Schulze, the critic commenting on the year-long pop- 3 https://github.com/ejoubert/graph9 Figure 2 The main hubs which form around the two monarchs. Louis XIV Phra Narai Total Number of Connections 22 22 Number of Connections representing the monarch’s own agency 18 15 Number of connections representing the monarch being acted upon 4 7 https://github.com/ejoubert/graph9 136 ularity of a clumsy folk-tune suggests. Yet even within the public sphere, musical communities might differ in their structure, make-up and impact on generating musical renown. One of the advantages of graph theory is that it has the potential to both detect community formation and, with appropriate algorithms, detect patterns distinct to individual communities. The neo4j graph data science playground is a relatively new plug-in intend- ed to facilitate the exploration of datasets with complex algorithms. The idea behind the playground is that one does not need to deal with the code directly but can still benefit from the power of often-called algorithms through an easier-to-use interface. However, the tool is still experimental. I was able to get some preliminary results for the community-detection (Figure 13). Figure 13: Emerging communities using neo4j Graph Data Science Playground The largest community seems to be centered, unsurprisingly, around genre: the German opera node. A sub- set of that community is centered on an opera that opened the Theater auf der Wieden just two years before Mozart’s Die Zauberflöte was premiered there: Benedict Schack’s Die beiden Antons. In fact, this suggests that the community for Die beiden Antons is likely stronger (or perhaps larger) compared to that of Mozart’s opera. Future research for this project will be focused on pattern detection to see how various communities (once identified) are structured, and how that structure has an impact on canon formation. Some interesting ques- tions might include: did communities for symphonic music look different than communities concerned with opera? Do the subcommunities have similar structural patterns or do some of them differ (and why?). Does the behaviour of musical communities change over the course of time? While graph theory has already pro- vided valuable insights into how operatic fame is generated in my dataset, many more insights remain to be discovered traversing these networks of operatic fame. Music Encoding Conference Proceedings 2020 137 Works Cited [1] Schulze, J.F., “Publikum” Deutsches Magazin 15 (1798), 332-6. [2] Barabási, Albert-László, Linked: The New Science of Networks. Cambridge, MA: Perseus Publishing, 2002. [3] Weber, William, The Great Transformation of Musical Taste. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008. [4] Barabási, Albert-László, Network Science. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2016. [5] Irving, David R. M., “Lully in Siam: Music and Diplomacy in French-Siamese Cultural Exchanges, 1680-1690” Early Music 40 n. 3 (2012), 393-420. 138 _uz54mk9yosar _GoBack _GoBack bookmark=id.lr92a4ym3y1c bookmark=id.r1fi01x8hc3s bookmark=id.z4rzoxxzuj4v bookmark=id.iwh8vxk08s5g 
work_7q46cpci7vcifmfefofcsisnim	----	Multi-Scale Investigation of Body-Glaze Interface in Ancient Ceramics HAL Id: hal-02276089 https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-02276089 Submitted on 2 Sep 2019 HAL is a multi-disciplinary open access archive for the deposit and dissemination of sci- entific research documents, whether they are pub- lished or not. The documents may come from teaching and research institutions in France or abroad, or from public or private research centers. L’archive ouverte pluridisciplinaire HAL, est destinée au dépôt et à la diffusion de documents scientifiques de niveau recherche, publiés ou non, émanant des établissements d’enseignement et de recherche français ou étrangers, des laboratoires publics ou privés. Multi-Scale Investigation of Body-Glaze Interface in Ancient Ceramics Marie Godet, Gauthier Roisine, Emmie Beauvoit, Daniel Caurant, Odile Majérus, Nicolas Menguy, Olivier Dargaud, Anne Bouquillon, Laurent Cormier To cite this version: Marie Godet, Gauthier Roisine, Emmie Beauvoit, Daniel Caurant, Odile Majérus, et al.. Multi-Scale Investigation of Body-Glaze Interface in Ancient Ceramics. American Heritage, American Heritage, 2019, 2 (3), pp.2480-2494. �10.3390/heritage2030152�. �hal-02276089� https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-02276089 https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr heritage Article Multi-Scale Investigation of Body-Glaze Interface in Ancient Ceramics Marie Godet 1,2,* , Gauthier Roisine 3,4, Emmie Beauvoit 3,4, Daniel Caurant 3, Odile Majérus 3, Nicolas Menguy 1 , Olivier Dargaud 5, Anne Bouquillon 4 and Laurent Cormier 1 1 Institut de Minéralogie de Physique des Matériaux et de Cosmochimie (IMPMC), Sorbonne Université, CNRS UMR 7590, MNHN, IRD UMR 206, 75005 Paris, France 2 IPANEMA CNRS, Site du Synchrotron Soleil, BP48 St Aubin, F91192 Gif sur Yvette, France 3 Chimie ParisTech, CNRS, Institut de Recherche de Chimie Paris (IRCP), PSL Research University, 75005 Paris, France 4 Centre de Recherche et de Restauration des Musées de France (C2RMF), CNRS, Institut de Recherche de Chimie Paris (IRCP), PSL Research University, 75001 Paris, France 5 Cité de la Céramique—Sèvres et Limoges, 2 Place de la Manufacture, 92310 Sèvres, France * Correspondence: marie.godet@synchrotron-soleil.fr or msgodet@gmail.com Received: 31 July 2019; Accepted: 24 August 2019; Published: 28 August 2019 ���������� ������� Abstract: Bernard Palissy is a French Renaissance ceramist renowned for his masterpieces called Rustiques Figulines on which dozens of glazes of different chemistries (and thus firing behaviors) coexist harmoniously. This study aims at gathering information on the master procedure -never revealed- by investigating the body-glaze interface region (focusing on iron-colored honey transparent glaze-white body system). Optical and electron microscopies including transmission electron microscopy (TEM) are used to characterize the micro and nanostructure of both archaeological and replicas interfaces elaborated in controlled conditions (firing time, cooling rate, addition of Al in the glazing mixture). Both types of interfaces are comparable: a modified paste area from which are growing a relatively continuous layer of interfacial crystals identified as lead feldspars (K,Ca)PbAl2Si2O8 micro-sized single-crystals incorporating mullite 3Al2O3.2SiO2 nano-sized single-crystals. Modification of the firing parameters and removal of Al from the glazing mixture change essentially the interface extension and the micro-crystals morphology. By comparing archaeological and replica interfaces and considering previous studies, we can now state that Palissy was very likely adding clay (Al) in his frit. Moreover, he was probably working with a firing time of more than 1 h followed by slow cooling in the oven. Keywords: ceramics; Renaissance; Palissy; body-glaze interface; TEM; SAED; HRTEM 1. Introduction Bernard Palissy (1510–1590) is one of the most famous French Renaissance ceramists. His masterpieces called the Rustique Figulines are ceramic plates, vases or architectural elements adorned with molded animals (reptiles, fishes, shells, etc.) or plants laying on a rockery-style base [1]. To enhance the realistic appearance, Palissy was using colorful lead glazes to decorate the ceramic pieces. The artist was able to deal with a dozen of glazes of different colors and transparencies (and thus different chemical compositions and firing behaviors) to obtain at the end a single object illuminated by a harmonious set of glazes cohabiting perfectly together, without any elaboration defects (burr, cracks, etc.). In his writings, Palissy highlights how these results have been achievable only after long years of sacrifice and hard labor [2]. Consequently, he always refuses to reveal his recipe secrets: very few information about the elaboration process of his glazed ceramics (raw materials, firing parameters) are available in his publications. Heritage 2019, 2, 2480–2494; doi:10.3390/heritage2030152 www.mdpi.com/journal/heritage http://www.mdpi.com/journal/heritage http://www.mdpi.com https://orcid.org/0000-0003-0720-6442 https://orcid.org/0000-0003-4613-2490 https://orcid.org/0000-0002-3554-0707 http://www.mdpi.com/2571-9408/2/3/152?type=check_update&version=1 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/heritage2030152 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/heritage Heritage 2019, 2 2481 In the 1980s, Palissy workshop in the Tuileries garden (Paris) was excavated in the context of the Louvre Pyramid construction. Inside, a lot of glazed ceramics fragments including crockery and architectural elements, plus some materials used for their production (clay molds, saggars, etc.) were found [3]. These precious archaeological samples represent a wealth of information for scientists. Glazes and pastes microstructures, including the glaze-paste interface area on which we are going to focus in this paper, were thoroughly investigated to obtain information on the ceramist elaboration method [1,4–6]. More generally, detailed investigation of ancient ceramics provides valuable information on the raw materials used, their provenance, their thermal history, and thus gives us a glimpse on arts and crafts of the past. For this purpose, scientists often proceed by comparing archaeological pieces with replicas elaborated under controlled conditions in the laboratory to precise the artist manufacturing procedure [7]. Why looking especially at the glaze-paste interface region? First it should be recalled that during the firing of glazed ceramic, strong interactions occur between glaze and paste which are going to modify the chemistries of both parts [8]. Due to the presence of concentration gradients at the interface, the diffusion process occurs between the thin liquid layer of melted glaze (~100 µm) and the paste. In the case of transparent high lead glazes for instance, lead (Pb) will diffuse from the glaze to the paste whereas aluminum (Al), silicon (Si), iron (Fe), titanium (Ti), alkalis (Na, K), and alkaline elements (Mg, Ca) will diffuse from the paste to the glaze. The diffusion process is accompanied by a digestion mechanism: the hot liquid melt induces a decomposition of the paste components. This digestion-diffusion process leads afterwards to the development of new devitrification crystallizations creating the so-called interface area [9]. It is important to note that the interface definition may vary depending on the authors. For instance, Coentro et al. (2017) define the interface as the “layer with mineral inclusions that result from the reaction between the glaze and the ceramic body” [10]. Furthermore, Molera et al. (2001) distinguish between the body part digested by the melt and the interface layer which is formed by small crystallites of K-Pb feldspars [9]. Consequently, one should always consider the interface definition before comparing the interface extension obtained in different studies. In the present study, the interface extension will be defined as the sum of both the modified paste (part of the paste that has reacted with the melt) and the interfacial crystals regions extensions. Numerous studies conducted on glazed ceramic replicas have demonstrated that the interface extension and microstructure depend on the following parameters: glaze and paste chemical composition, firing temperature, firing time, cooling rate, use of single- or double-firing method [9,11,12]. Thus, investigating the interface allows gathering information on all these parameters which help to understand Palissy’s elaboration process. In the case of transparent high lead glazes, it was found that an increase in firing temperature, duration, and a decrease in cooling rate induces a larger interface. Besides, the same glaze applied to different types of paste (illitic, kaolinitic, calcareous) leads to different interfaces thicknesses. Concerning the glaze chemistry, one major question is to determine to what extent the aluminum (Al) commonly detected in the glazes is due to the deliberate addition of clay by the ceramist and to what extent it is due to diffusion process from the body during the firing [8]. Experiments recently conducted using two Palissy-style honey glazes replicas (one with 6%wt alumina and one without) applied on the same white body (kaolinitic) revealed that the final glazes were both containing 6%wt alumina after the thermal process [6]. This result reveals how important the Al diffusion process is during the firing and that there seems to be a saturation limit. Examining the interface of these samples which have not yet been analyzed would be very useful to know if Palissy was intentionally adding Al or not in his glazing mixture. Lastly, several authors have tried to relate the interface expansion with the firing method (single or double) but no evident relationships have been found since two decades [8,13,14]. Luckily we know that Palissy was very probably using the double firing method [2,4]. In addition to the interface expansion, the chemistry and the morphology of the interfacial crystals are also highly related to the above-mentioned parameters. In the case of a lead glaze applied on Heritage 2019, 2 2482 a calcareous paste, wollastonite microcrystals CaSiO3 were often detected using scanning electron microscopy coupled to an X-ray energy dispersive spectrometer (SEM-EDX) [15]. Besides, various other crystals such as andradite Ca3Fe2Si3O12, magnesioferrite MgFe2O4, diopside CaMgSi2O6, etc. were also identified using Raman spectroscopy and synchrotron micro X-ray diffraction (syn-µ-XRD) [10,16]. In the case of low calcareous pastes (such as those used by Palissy [17]), a solid solution of K-Pb feldspars (Kx, Pby, Caz)AlαSiβOδ microcrystals was mostly evidenced using SEM-EDX [18–20] and in one study using Raman spectroscopy [10]. In particular, a corpus composed of Palissy glazed ceramics samples (honey iron-colored glaze on white kaolinitic body) was characterized by SEM and K-Pb feldspars crystals were described in all the examined interfaces [6]. Here one could realize that most of the interfacial compounds have been identified using SEM-EDX point analysis on micro-sized crystals. Although relatively simple to implement, this technique has several drawbacks: the EDX probed volume (~1 µm3) is often too large for submicro- and nano-sized crystals which have been evidenced in the interface area [16] and which thus have not been characterized, EDX quantitative analysis can only be achieved on homogeneous sample (yet the microcrystals are sometimes heterogeneous at the microscale), and finally this method does not provide a direct structural analysis. As shown above, some studies have thus turned to structural techniques such as Raman spectroscopy or syn-µ-XRD [21,22]. Both are very powerful techniques as they can detect sub micrometric species even if the beam is much larger (few microns for Raman and few tens of microns for syn-µ-XRD). However, the spatial resolution information is lost, and these techniques are still not perfectly adapted for nanoscale studies. Hence in the present study, a multi-scale analysis has been developed including transmission electron microscopy (TEM) and associated techniques (electron diffraction, chemical analysis). This analytical strategy is used to characterize the morphology, chemistry, and microstructure of Palissy glazed ceramics interfaces areas (focusing on honey glaze on white body system) down to the nanoscale. In parallel, the influence of some elaboration parameters on the interface (firing time, cooling rate and addition of Al in the glazing mixture) is assessed through the preparation of Palissy-style replicas samples. Finally, archaeological and replicas samples are compared to shed some light on how Palissy was proceeding to achieve such masterpieces. 2. Materials and Methods Four archaeological glazed ceramic shards (honey glaze on white body) coming from Palissy workshop in Paris (Tuileries) were selected. Three-millimeter sized fragments of these shards (EP422, EP470, and EP600) were embedded in cross-sections using acrylic resin before being mechanically polished. The last one (EP2319) was directly polished using a Leica TXC ion polisher (8 kV, 3 mA, 4 h) in order to investigate the capabilities of this facility to prepare glazed ceramic specimen compared to traditional preparation method (embedding and mechanical polishing). The samples were first observed using optical microscopy to examine the morphology at the sub-milliscale. They were then carbon coated and analyzed using a scanning electron microscope (SEM) FEG Zeiss Ultra55 (7–15 kV) coupled to a Bruker Quantax Energy Dispersive X-ray (EDX) detector to investigate the morphology and the qualitative chemical composition of the glaze-paste interface at the microscale. Imaging was essentially performed in backscattered electron mode (BSE). Hypermaps were acquired from which elementary maps, spectra, and profiles can be extracted afterwards. As the samples show nano-sized heterogeneities, a Focused Ion Beam (FIB) section (about 15 µm × 5 µm × 100 nm) was prepared in the interface area of one sample (EP2319) with a FEI Strata DB235 (IEMN) before being analyzed using a transmission electron microscope (TEM) JEOL2100F at 300 kV equipped with a scanning transmission electron microscope (STEM) device and a Si(Li) EDX detector. TEM coupled to selected area electron diffraction (SAED) and high-resolution TEM (HRTEM) imaging were performed to characterize the morphology, the crystallinity, and the structure of the interfacial compounds. STEM coupled to high angle annular dark field (HAADF) imaging (providing Z contrast images) and EDX analysis were used to examine the morphology and correlate it Heritage 2019, 2 2483 to the chemical composition of the interface compounds at the nanoscale. Images, SAED, and HRTEM data were treated using Image J whereas EDX hypermaps were treated using Analysis Station and Origin64 software. In parallel, glazed ceramic replicas were elaborated taking into account the chemical compositions previously measured on a corpus of archeological honey glazed samples [6,7]. A kaolinitic clay originating from Provins in France (RP299) with a mineralogy very similar to those of Palissy white pastes was used to prepare these replicas (Table 1). Table 1. Chemical composition of the white clay (RP299, Provins) used to make the replicas body (provided by the manufacturer). Oxides Na2O MgO Al2O3 SiO2 K2O CaO TiO2 Fe2O3 Compo (%wt) Non detected 0.28 28.32 68.80 0.50 0.39 1.66 1.27 Following the procedure detailed in [6], 4 kg of clay was mixed with 0.4 kg of Fontainebleau sand (used as filler) and 6 L of water using a planetary mill for 30 min. The liquid mixture was then dried in a plaster shell before being worked and shaped into clay tiles (3 × 3 × 0.5 cm3). The tiles were dried two weeks in the air after which they were fired at 1000 ◦C during 10 min (heating rate 50 ◦C·h−1 until 400 ◦C, 100 ◦C·h−1 until 1000 ◦C, cooling rate 50 ◦C·h−1 until room temperature). A double firing procedure was chosen as Palissy was probably using this method. The paste is first fired alone (obtention of a biscuit); then glazing mixture is applied on the dried biscuit and the whole is fired a second time to produce the glazed ceramic. Concerning the type of glazing mixture, previous examination of honey glazes replicas elaborated with either oxides powders or glass frit suggests that Palissy was most likely working with a glass frit [6]. Indeed, glaze elaborated using oxides powders is very heterogeneous after firing: un-melted particles from the raw materials and cristobalite crystals are observed, contrary to glaze elaborated using a frit which has a more homogeneous appearance, similar to that of Palissy honey glazes. Furthermore, frit residues and crucibles were found in Palissy Parisian workshop during the 1980s excavations. Consequently, in the present study, a glass frit was elaborated by mixing γ-Al2O3 (99.99%, fine, Baikowski), SiO2 (99.5%, <50 µm, Alfa Aesar), α-Fe2O3 (99%, <40 µm, Prolabo), and PbO (99.9%, <10 µm, Sigma Aldrich) in the proportions indicated in Table 2 which correspond to the average of the chemical compositions measured on the archaeological honey glazes composing the corpus above mentioned [6]. Table 2. Chemical composition (wt%) of the glass frit used to make the replica glaze. Oxides Al2O3 SiO2 Fe2O3 PbO Glass frit with Al2O3 6 30 3.5 60 Glass frit without Al2O3 - 31.9 3.7 64.4 To study the effect of adding (or not) aluminum in the glazing mixture on the interface extension and microstructure, a second type of frit was elaborated by removing aluminum from the initial mix. The powder mixtures were first fired in Pt or Pt/Au crucibles at 1050 ◦C for 30 min (heating rate 7 ◦C·h−1). Unfortunately, both melts were too viscous at that time and cannot be casted. The glass was thus re-fired for 10 min at 1200 ◦C. A first quench was then performed on a metallic plate at room temperature. To increase homogeneity, the glass was then roughly crushed before being replaced in the crucibles in the oven for 30 min at 1200 ◦C. A thin ( <40 µm) glass powder easily dispersible in water was prepared. To make the glazed ceramic replicas, 2.5 g of frit were mixed with 2.0 g of water and applied on the dried biscuits. For comparison, one sample was prepared using the frit without aluminum. Heritage 2019, 2 2484 The samples were then fired at 1000 ◦C (heating rate 100 ◦C·h−1) under different conditions. 1000 ◦C was chosen as an in-depth mineralogical study conducted by Wallez and Coquinot (detailed in [6] (p. 35–37)) on Palissy pastes has demonstrated that his white pastes were fired between 950 and 1040 ◦C. - Five samples were quenched at different times (0, 10, 30, 60, 120 min) after reaching 1000 ◦C to examine the influence of the firing duration on the interface area. - Three samples fired during 120 min were cooled using different rates to look at the influence of cooling rate on the interface area (10, 50, 250 ◦C·h−1 and quench). 50◦ C·h−1 corresponds approximatively to a slow cooling in the oven. - The sample prepared using the frit without Al2O3 was fired during 120 min and slowly cooled in the oven (50 ◦C·h−1). The quenching was performed in a metallic plate covered with a thin layer of water (lower than the thickness of the ceramic samples) at the bottom so that the ceramic substrates were cooled down rapidly. After the firing process, 3 × 3 × 0.5 cm3 glazed ceramic tiles (with a honey transparent glaze covering a white body) were obtained. A millimeter-sized fragment of glazed ceramic was collected from each tile. The fragments were then ion polished using the above-mentioned facility and parameters. They were then analyzed following exactly the same procedure as the one used for archaeological samples. 3. Results 3.1. Archaelogical Interfaces Micro-Scale Characterization Under the optical microscope, the honey glazes appear relatively homogeneous with a thickness of about 100 µm (Figure 1a–d). The paste is white for the three embedded samples (EP422, EP470, EP600) and is a mixture of white and red pastes for the last sample (EP2319). For the latter, the honey glaze is however essentially covering a white paste area in the fragment we collected. Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 5 in [6] (p.35–37)) on Palissy pastes has demonstrated that his white pastes were fired between 950 and 1040°C. - Five samples were quenched at different times (0, 10, 30, 60, 120 minutes) after reaching 1000°C to examine the influence of the firing duration on the interface area. - Three samples fired during 120 min were cooled using different rates to look at the influence of cooling rate on the interface area (10, 50, 250°C.h-1 and quench). 50° C.h-1 corresponds approximatively to a slow cooling in the oven. - The sample prepared using the frit without Al2O3 was fired during 120 min and slowly cooled in the oven (50°C.h-1). The quenching was performed in a metallic plate covered with a thin layer of water (lower than the thickness of the ceramic samples) at the bottom so that the ceramic substrates were cooled down rapidly. After the firing process, 3 × 3 × 0.5 cm3 glazed ceramic tiles (with a honey transparent glaze covering a white body) were obtained. A millimeter-sized fragment of glazed ceramic was collected from each tile. The fragments were then ion polished using the above-mentioned facility and parameters. They were then analyzed following exactly the same procedure as the one used for archaeological samples. 3. Results 3.1. Archaelogical Interfaces Micro-scale characterization Under the optical microscope, the honey glazes appear relatively homogeneous with a thickness of about 100 µm (Figure 1a–d). The paste is white for the three embedded samples (EP422, EP470, EP600) and is a mixture of white and red pastes for the last sample (EP2319). For the latter, the honey glaze is however essentially covering a white paste area in the fragment we collected. Figure 1. Microscale examination of archaeological fragments, a-d. OM images of EP422, EP470, EP600 and EP2319, e-h. corresponding SEM-BSE images showing the interface area between the honey glaze and the white paste; legend: G = glaze; I = interface area; P = paste; scale bar = 200 µm for OM images; 10 µm for SEM images. Between the glaze and the paste, SEM-BSE imaging shows with a clear contrast that an interface area has formed, with a chemistry different from both paste and glaze. Ion polished sample appearance (Figure 1h) is better than mechanical polished samples ones (Figure 1e–g) with hardly any visible polishing marks (scratches). Besides, it allows distinguishing more details at the sub-micro and nanoscales. The interface areas present a comparable microstructure for all the different archaeological fragments investigated (Figure 1e–h). They are showing a great heterogeneity at the Figure 1. Microscale examination of archaeological fragments, (a–d). OM images of EP422, EP470, EP600 and EP2319, (e–h). corresponding SEM-BSE images showing the interface area between the honey glaze and the white paste; legend: G = glaze; I = interface area; P = paste; scale bar = 200 µm for OM images; 10 µm for SEM images. Between the glaze and the paste, SEM-BSE imaging shows with a clear contrast that an interface area has formed, with a chemistry different from both paste and glaze. Ion polished sample appearance (Figure 1h) is better than mechanical polished samples ones (Figure 1e–g) with hardly any visible Heritage 2019, 2 2485 polishing marks (scratches). Besides, it allows distinguishing more details at the sub-micro and nanoscales. The interface areas present a comparable microstructure for all the different archaeological fragments investigated (Figure 1e–h). They are showing a great heterogeneity at the microscale and can be divided into two parts: a modified paste region and an interfacial crystals region (Figure 2). The modified paste region corresponds to the part of the body that has reacted with the glaze during the firing, hence showing a microstructure different from the unaffected paste. It appears lighter and SEM-EDX mapping shows that it is due to lead impregnation into the paste. It also seems less porous and more compact. Dark grains (corresponding mostly to quartz or aluminosilicates particles) are less numerous, often smaller (less than a few microns) and more altered than those present in the unaffected paste (Figure 2a). This can be explained by the fact that during the firing lead is acting as a flux and induces an amorphization of the body, leading to a more homogeneous aspect with fewer porosities and inclusions. Moreover, the modified paste matrix is showing a lot of submicro- and nano-metric contrasts (visible in BSE mode), indicating that submicro- and nano-sized compounds with different chemistries are present in it (not analyzable using EDX which is probing a micro-sized volume). In particular, aggregate of dark lines with an individual thickness smaller than 1 µm, are often observed more or less easily depending on the samples. The interfacial crystals region is forming a relatively continuous area above the modified paste region. Micro-sized compounds of various forms (generally forming irregular aggregates when close to the paste and having more sharp-edged forms when away in the glaze) and sizes (few microns) seem to be growing from the surface of the modified paste. They are sometimes spreading into the glaze, forming a curved farandole of crystals disconnected from the surface. Typical EDX hypermap (here of EP422 sample) from which spectra can be extracted reveals that these crystals contain O, Al, Si, Pb, K in various proportions (Figure 3a–c). Different BSE imaging contrasts are also distinguished inside the interfacial compounds, indicating again that micro- and nano-compounds with different chemistries are present in it. Dark lines (compared to the crystals) are frequently observed. In the case of EP2319, the interfacial crystals present an even more complex microstructure as some compounds (containing dark lines inside) are surrounded by a micro-sized lighter border which is itself surrounded by a nano-sized darker one, the whole conveying to these crystals an illusion of relief in the glaze (Figure 2b). Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 6 microscale and can be divided into two parts: a modified paste region and an interfacial crystals region (Figure 2). The modified paste region corresponds to the part of the body that has reacted with the glaze during the firing, hence showing a microstructure different from the unaffected paste. It appears lighter and SEM-EDX mapping shows that it is due to lead impregnation into the paste. It also seems less porous and more compact. Dark grains (corresponding mostly to quartz or aluminosilicates particles) are less numerous, often smaller (less than a few microns) and more altered than those present in the unaffected paste (Figure 2a). This can be explained by the fact that during the firing lead is acting as a flux and induces an amorphization of the body, leading to a more homogeneous aspect with fewer porosities and inclusions. Moreover, the modified paste matrix is showing a lot of submicro- and nano-metric contrasts (visible in BSE mode), indicating that submicro- and nano-sized compounds with different chemistries are present in it (not analyzable using EDX which is probing a micro-sized volume). In particular, aggregate of dark lines with an individual thickness smaller than 1 µm, are often observed more or less easily depending on the samples. The interfacial crystals region is forming a relatively continuous area above the modified paste region. Micro-sized compounds of various forms (generally forming irregular aggregates when close to the paste and having more sharp-edged forms when away in the glaze) and sizes (few microns) seem to be growing from the surface of the modified paste. They are sometimes spreading into the glaze, forming a curved farandole of crystals disconnected from the surface. Typical EDX hypermap (here of EP422 sample) from which spectra can be extracted reveals that these crystals contain O, Al, Si, Pb, K in various proportions (Figure 3a–c). Different BSE imaging contrasts are also distinguished inside the interfacial compounds, indicating again that micro- and nano-compounds with different chemistries are present in it. Dark lines (compared to the crystals) are frequently observed. In the case of EP2319, the interfacial crystals present an even more complex microstructure as some compounds (containing dark lines inside) are surrounded by a micro-sized lighter border which is itself surrounded by a nano-sized darker one, the whole conveying to these crystals an illusion of relief in the glaze (Figure 2b). (a) (b) Figure 2. Archaeological glaze-paste interfaces showing micro-heterogeneities: a. EP470, b. EP2319 (SEM-BSE images); legend: G = glaze; IC = interface crystals region; MP = modified paste region; P = unaffected paste; 1. interfacial compound with borders; 2. dark lines inside crystals. Typical EDX profiles extracted from hypermaps are presented in Figure 3d and give information about the element’s diffusion through the interface. In the glaze, Pb, Al, and Si profiles are flat. Then the profiles are marked by an abrupt minimum (Pb) or maximum (Al) corresponding to the interfacial crystals’ region. The Si profile is still flat in this area, meaning that the Si content is approximatively the same in the glaze and in the crystals. In the modified paste region, the Pb profile is decreasing continuously until reaching zero in the unaffected paste. Al and Si profiles globally increase and are marked by high amplitude oscillations, corresponding to quartz, aluminosilicates particles, and clay matrix heterogeneities. Figure 2. Archaeological glaze-paste interfaces showing micro-heterogeneities: (a). EP470, (b). EP2319 (SEM-BSE images); legend: G = glaze; IC = interface crystals region; MP = modified paste region; P = unaffected paste; 1. interfacial compound with borders; 2. dark lines inside crystals. Typical EDX profiles extracted from hypermaps are presented in Figure 3d and give information about the element’s diffusion through the interface. In the glaze, Pb, Al, and Si profiles are flat. Then the profiles are marked by an abrupt minimum (Pb) or maximum (Al) corresponding to the interfacial crystals’ region. The Si profile is still flat in this area, meaning that the Si content is approximatively the same in the glaze and in the crystals. In the modified paste region, the Pb profile is decreasing Heritage 2019, 2 2486 continuously until reaching zero in the unaffected paste. Al and Si profiles globally increase and are marked by high amplitude oscillations, corresponding to quartz, aluminosilicates particles, and clay matrix heterogeneities. Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 7 (a) (b) (c) (d) Figure 3: SEM-EDX investigation of EP422 archaeological interface, a. interface area with EDX analysis localization (SEM-BSE image), b. hypermaps superposition including BSE image (greyscale), Al (green), Si (blue) and Pb (purple), c. normalized EDX spectra extracted from the areas indicated in a., d. evolution of the chemical composition across the whole sample, 0 µm correspond to a point in the glaze (50 µm above the interface) and 150 µm corresponds to the bottom of the sample (EDX profiles). Concerning the interface extension, it can be measured either by using the Pb decreasing through the interface (more accurate) or by looking at the BSE imaging contrasts (more approximate). However, as the interface is not a continuous layer, it is more relevant to measure its extension using a range of thicknesses. Here the analyzed archaeological interfaces have a thickness of about 10 to 30 µm. Archaeological interfaces have a complex microstructure composed of a modified paste region (body impregnated by the lead melt) and an interfacial crystals region (with microcrystals growing from the modified paste area to the glaze). Examination using SEM has highlighted the presence of micro and nano-sized heterogeneities which we are now going to identify using TEM. Nano-scale characterization The interface of EP2319 sample is very heterogeneous at the nanoscale and two main types of compounds are observed using STEM-HAADF imaging (Figure 4): - Big crystals measuring a few microns with irregular rounded to sharp-edged forms. The crystals observed in the glaze almost always have borders (with a thickness of a few hundred nanometers) (Figure 4a–b) whereas the one located near the modified paste region have no lighter borders (Figure 4c). These compounds correspond to the interfacial crystals observed by SEM (Figure 2b). Figure 3. SEM-EDX investigation of EP422 archaeological interface, (a). interface area with EDX analysis localization (SEM-BSE image), (b). hypermaps superposition including BSE image (greyscale), Al (green), Si (blue) and Pb (purple), (c). normalized EDX spectra extracted from the areas indicated in (a,d). evolution of the chemical composition across the whole sample, 0 µm correspond to a point in the glaze (50 µm above the interface) and 150 µm corresponds to the bottom of the sample (EDX profiles). Concerning the interface extension, it can be measured either by using the Pb decreasing through the interface (more accurate) or by looking at the BSE imaging contrasts (more approximate). However, as the interface is not a continuous layer, it is more relevant to measure its extension using a range of thicknesses. Here the analyzed archaeological interfaces have a thickness of about 10 to 30 µm. Archaeological interfaces have a complex microstructure composed of a modified paste region (body impregnated by the lead melt) and an interfacial crystals region (with microcrystals growing from the modified paste area to the glaze). Examination using SEM has highlighted the presence of micro and nano-sized heterogeneities which we are now going to identify using TEM. Nano-Scale Characterization The interface of EP2319 sample is very heterogeneous at the nanoscale and two main types of compounds are observed using STEM-HAADF imaging (Figure 4): - Big crystals measuring a few microns with irregular rounded to sharp-edged forms. The crystals observed in the glaze almost always have borders (with a thickness of a few hundred nanometers) (Figure 4a–b) whereas the one located near the modified paste region have no lighter borders (Figure 4c). These compounds correspond to the interfacial crystals observed by SEM (Figure 2b). - Small crystals measuring a few tens of nanometers, rod- or rectangular-shaped, either localized inside the big compounds (Figure 4a–b) or in the modified paste area (Figure 4c). These small Heritage 2019, 2 2487 crystals are forming the dark lines or the nano-sized contrasts visible inside the microcrystals that were highlighted by SEM (Figure 2b). It is interesting to notice that the small crystals present inside the microcrystals with borders are constrained inside the core of the compounds and no one is observed either in the border or the surrounding glaze. Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 8 - Small crystals measuring a few tens of nanometers, rod- or rectangular-shaped, either localized inside the big compounds (Figure 4a–b) or in the modified paste area (Figure 4c). These small crystals are forming the dark lines or the nano-sized contrasts visible inside the microcrystals that were highlighted by SEM (Figure 2b). It is interesting to notice that the small crystals present inside the microcrystals with borders are constrained inside the core of the compounds and no one is observed either in the border or the surrounding glaze. (a) (b) (c) Figure 4: Archaeological glaze-paste interface (EP2319) showing nano-heterogeneities (STEM-HAADF images), from a. to c., the images have been taken from the glaze to the paste area. Both types of compounds were identified using STEM-EDX analysis coupled to crystallographic analysis (SAED or HRTEM). EDX analysis shows that big crystals contain mostly O, Al, Si, Pb plus K and Ca (sometimes Ti) in low amounts (Figure 5). According to the Pb map, the border seems slightly enriched in Pb, however, the difference is not perceptible on the normalized spectra (Figure 5c). As small crystals are incorporated inside the big ones, it is quite difficult to avoid completely the latter contribution to the analysis. Furthermore, due to their size, several small crystals may be present in depth of the FIB cut. The EDX analysis will, therefore, average all their contributions. Nevertheless, EDX analysis indicates that the small crystals contain mostly O, Al, Si, and Pb and are richer in Al than the big ones. If we subtract the normalized EDX spectra of big and small crystals, we obtain a spectrum containing approximatively O, Al, and Si, indicating that these small compounds may be aluminosilicates. SAED diffraction was performed on several big compounds and reveals that they all have a PbAl2Si2O8 structure (Figure 6a–c). This result thus demonstrates that the big crystals are (K,Ca)PbAl2Si2O8 lead feldspars single-crystals, which is consistent with previous studies conducted on lead glaze-white body interfaces [10,18]. An interesting result is that different diffraction patterns acquired both on the core and border of this big crystal are identical, meaning that the whole monocrystal has the same crystallographic orientation. This is coherent with the fact that no border is visible in TEM-BF mode. Small compounds were too small to be analyzed using SAED method ( < 100 nm). They were thus characterized using HRTEM imaging which is very appropriate for nano-crystals analysis. Using a Fourier filtering transformation, it was found that the small crystals are single-crystals and that they have a mullite structure 3Al2O3.2SiO2 (Figure 6d–f). Figure 4. Archaeological glaze-paste interface (EP2319) showing nano-heterogeneities (STEM-HAADF images), from (a) to (c), the images have been taken from the glaze to the paste area. Both types of compounds were identified using STEM-EDX analysis coupled to crystallographic analysis (SAED or HRTEM). EDX analysis shows that big crystals contain mostly O, Al, Si, Pb plus K and Ca (sometimes Ti) in low amounts (Figure 5). According to the Pb map, the border seems slightly enriched in Pb, however, the difference is not perceptible on the normalized spectra (Figure 5c). As small crystals are incorporated inside the big ones, it is quite difficult to avoid completely the latter contribution to the analysis. Furthermore, due to their size, several small crystals may be present in depth of the FIB cut. The EDX analysis will, therefore, average all their contributions. Nevertheless, EDX analysis indicates that the small crystals contain mostly O, Al, Si, and Pb and are richer in Al than the big ones. If we subtract the normalized EDX spectra of big and small crystals, we obtain a spectrum containing approximatively O, Al, and Si, indicating that these small compounds may be aluminosilicates. Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 9 (a) (b) (c) Figure 5: STEM-EDX analysis of interfacial compounds (EP2319), a. STEM-HAADF image, the white points on the right are Pt deposition due to FIB preparation, b. hypermaps superposition including Al (red), Si (blue) and Pb (green), c. EDX spectra extracted from the four regions of interest indicated in a., normalized to Cu intensity (the Cu originates from the TEM grid), the small peak before K peak is an artefact (Al sum peak), legend: G = glaze, BC = big crystal, SC = small crystal. dhkl PbAl2Si2O8 6.46 001 3.41 112 2.73 311 2.15 313 or 003 2.09 401 1.77 441 1.70 224 1.55 223 1.37 553 (a) (b) (c) dhkl 3Al2O3.2SiO2 5.37 110 3.79 200 3.43 120 3.38 210 2.70 220 2.55 111 2.42 130 (d) (e) (f) Figure 6: Crystallographic analysis of big (a–c) and small (d–f) crystals (EP2319), a. TEM-BF image, b. SAED diffraction pattern acquired on the big crystal, c. interreticular distances dhkl extracted from b. and corresponding diffracting planes, d. HRTEM image, e. Fourier filtering of d., f. interreticular distances extracted from e. and corresponding diffracting planes. To conclude, TEM and associated techniques have demonstrated that the interfacial crystals are composed of micro-sized lead feldspars single-crystals surrounded sometimes by a border slightly Figure 5. STEM-EDX analysis of interfacial compounds (EP2319), (a) STEM-HAADF image, the white points on the right are Pt deposition due to FIB preparation, (b) hypermaps superposition including Al (red), Si (blue) and Pb (green), (c). EDX spectra extracted from the four regions of interest indicated in (a), normalized to Cu intensity (the Cu originates from the TEM grid), the small peak before K peak is an artefact (Al sum peak), legend: G = glaze, BC = big crystal, SC = small crystal. SAED diffraction was performed on several big compounds and reveals that they all have a PbAl2Si2O8 structure (Figure 6a–c). This result thus demonstrates that the big crystals are Heritage 2019, 2 2488 (K,Ca)PbAl2Si2O8 lead feldspars single-crystals, which is consistent with previous studies conducted on lead glaze-white body interfaces [10,18]. An interesting result is that different diffraction patterns acquired both on the core and border of this big crystal are identical, meaning that the whole monocrystal has the same crystallographic orientation. This is coherent with the fact that no border is visible in TEM-BF mode. Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 9 (a) (b) (c) Figure 5: STEM-EDX analysis of interfacial compounds (EP2319), a. STEM-HAADF image, the white points on the right are Pt deposition due to FIB preparation, b. hypermaps superposition including Al (red), Si (blue) and Pb (green), c. EDX spectra extracted from the four regions of interest indicated in a., normalized to Cu intensity (the Cu originates from the TEM grid), the small peak before K peak is an artefact (Al sum peak), legend: G = glaze, BC = big crystal, SC = small crystal. dhkl PbAl2Si2O8 6.46 001 3.41 112 2.73 311 2.15 313 or 003 2.09 401 1.77 441 1.70 224 1.55 223 1.37 553 (a) (b) (c) dhkl 3Al2O3.2SiO2 5.37 110 3.79 200 3.43 120 3.38 210 2.70 220 2.55 111 2.42 130 (d) (e) (f) Figure 6: Crystallographic analysis of big (a–c) and small (d–f) crystals (EP2319), a. TEM-BF image, b. SAED diffraction pattern acquired on the big crystal, c. interreticular distances dhkl extracted from b. and corresponding diffracting planes, d. HRTEM image, e. Fourier filtering of d., f. interreticular distances extracted from e. and corresponding diffracting planes. To conclude, TEM and associated techniques have demonstrated that the interfacial crystals are composed of micro-sized lead feldspars single-crystals surrounded sometimes by a border slightly Figure 6. Crystallographic analysis of big (a–c) and small (d–f) crystals (EP2319), (a). TEM-BF image, (b). SAED diffraction pattern acquired on the big crystal, (c). interreticular distances dhkl extracted from (b). and corresponding diffracting planes, (d). HRTEM image, (e). Fourier filtering of (d,f). interreticular distances extracted from (e) and corresponding diffracting planes. Small compounds were too small to be analyzed using SAED method ( <100 nm). They were thus characterized using HRTEM imaging which is very appropriate for nano-crystals analysis. Using a Fourier filtering transformation, it was found that the small crystals are single-crystals and that they have a mullite structure 3Al2O3.2SiO2 (Figure 6d–f). To conclude, TEM and associated techniques have demonstrated that the interfacial crystals are composed of micro-sized lead feldspars single-crystals surrounded sometimes by a border slightly enriched in lead and incorporating nano-sized mullite single-crystals. Besides, we now know that the dark lines observed in the modified paste area correspond in fact to lines of mullite nanocrystals. How does that peculiar microstructure have formed? Mullite has been previously identified in Palissy white bodies [6]. We can thus suppose that during the firing process, the liquid melt digests the clay body except mullite crystals and that afterwards lead feldspars crystallize and grow around them. A comparable reaction has been previously described for Hispano-Moresque pottery: sanidine (Kx, Pby, Ca1-x-y)AlSi3O8 microcrystals were observed growing around a K-feldspar crystal originating from the paste [18]. Another explanation would be that during the feldspar’s growth, an excess of Si an Al coming from the paste digestion lead to the precipitation of mullite crystals inside the feldspars. We will now focus on replicas interfaces to characterize their micro and nanostructures depending on the conditions used and compare them with archaeological ones to precise the elaboration parameters potentially used by Palissy. Heritage 2019, 2 2489 3.2. Replicas Interfaces Replicas tiles obtained after firing at 1000 ◦C during different times and different cooling rates all have a similar aspect: a red-brownish translucid and brilliant glaze is covering a white body (Figure 7a). For the replica elaborated without alumina, the glaze appears opaque and matte with a light honey tonality (Figure 7b). A typical millimeter sized fragment collected from the tiles and used for analyses is shown on Figure 7c. Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 10 enriched in lead and incorporating nano-sized mullite single-crystals. Besides, we now know that the dark lines observed in the modified paste area correspond in fact to lines of mullite nanocrystals. How does that peculiar microstructure have formed? Mullite has been previously identified in Palissy white bodies [6]. We can thus suppose that during the firing process, the liquid melt digests the clay body except mullite crystals and that afterwards lead feldspars crystallize and grow around them. A comparable reaction has been previously described for Hispano-Moresque pottery: sanidine (Kx, Pby, Ca1-x-y)AlSi3O8 microcrystals were observed growing around a K-feldspar crystal originating from the paste [18]. Another explanation would be that during the feldspar’s growth, an excess of Si an Al coming from the paste digestion lead to the precipitation of mullite crystals inside the feldspars. We will now focus on replicas interfaces to characterize their micro and nanostructures depending on the conditions used and compare them with archaeological ones to precise the elaboration parameters potentially used by Palissy. 3.2. Replicas Interfaces Replicas tiles obtained after firing at 1000°C during different times and different cooling rates all have a similar aspect: a red-brownish translucid and brilliant glaze is covering a white body (Figure 7a). For the replica elaborated without alumina, the glaze appears opaque and matte with a light honey tonality (Figure 7b). A typical millimeter sized fragment collected from the tiles and used for analyses is shown on Figure 7c. (a) (b) (c) Figure 7: Honey glazed replicas tiles (3 × 3 × 0.5 cm), a. with aluminium, b. without aluminium (all others conditions being similar, 1000°C, 120 min, 50°C.h-1), c. millimeter-size fragment held by a pair of tweezers collected from a. before ion polishing (3 mm long). As for archaeological samples, a modified paste area from which are growing interfacial crystals of various forms and sizes (few micrometers) are observed (Figure 8). Numerous dark grains (quartz or aluminosilicates particles) are present in this region, often small (sub-micrometric) and altered. Besides, dark lines (measuring a few microns long and less than one micron thick) are observed in the body lighter matrix. The interfacial crystals region is a relatively continuous layer of microcrystals showing irregular to sharp-edged forms (mostly when away from the surface). Again, submicro- and nano-sized heterogeneities are detected inside the crystals using BSE imaging, indicating that micro- and nano-compounds with different chemistries are present. Figure 7. Honey glazed replicas tiles (3 × 3 × 0.5 cm), (a). with aluminium, (b). without aluminium (all others conditions being similar, 1000 ◦C, 120 min, 50 ◦C·h−1), (c). millimetre-size fragment held by a pair of tweezers collected from a. before ion polishing (3 mm long). As for archaeological samples, a modified paste area from which are growing interfacial crystals of various forms and sizes (few micrometers) are observed (Figure 8). Numerous dark grains (quartz or aluminosilicates particles) are present in this region, often small (sub-micrometric) and altered. Besides, dark lines (measuring a few microns long and less than one micron thick) are observed in the body lighter matrix. The interfacial crystals region is a relatively continuous layer of microcrystals showing irregular to sharp-edged forms (mostly when away from the surface). Again, submicro- and nano-sized heterogeneities are detected inside the crystals using BSE imaging, indicating that micro- and nano-compounds with different chemistries are present. Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 11 Figure 8: Typical replica glaze-paste interface (corresponding to the sample presented in Figure 7a) showing great micro-heterogeneities (SEM-BSE image); legend: G = glaze; IC = interface crystals region; MP = modified paste region; P = unaffected paste. Variation of firing time, cooling rate, and removal of alumina from the glazing mixture results in modification of both the interface extension and the interfacial micro-compounds morphology (size and form). Influence of the firing time Increase the firing time from 0 to 120 minutes increases the interface extension from 10–25 to 35– 45 µm (Figure 9a–c). Both the modified paste and the interfacial compounds regions enlarge. Besides, the microcrystals morphology is changed. Their forms become less irregular and more rectangular, with smoothed corners. After firing for 60 min, some microcrystals with a lighter border appear near the modified paste surface. Influence of the cooling rate Slowing the cooling rate from quenching to 10°C.h-1 increases the interface extension from 35– 45 to 60–75 µm (Figure 9e–h). Again, this expansion is due to both modified paste and interfacial crystals regions enlarging. This result indicates that cooling is a crucial stage in the interface formation: lead melt continues to impregnate the paste and interfacial crystals keep growing during this step. For replicas cooled at less than 250°C.h-1, rectangular sharp-edged microcrystals are observed, added to the more irregular ones observed in the quenched replica. The biggest of these rectangular crystals can reach 10 µm long and are free from any submicro- and nano-heterogeneities (see Figure 8 high in the glaze for instance). Following his writings, Palissy was probably leaving his glazed ceramics to cool down slowly in the oven (~ 50°C.h-1) [2]. This would be consistent with the observation of rectangular sharp-edged crystals measuring a few microns in the archaeological interfaces. Figure 8. Typical replica glaze-paste interface (corresponding to the sample presented in Figure 7a) showing great micro-heterogeneities (SEM-BSE image); legend: G = glaze; IC = interface crystals region; MP = modified paste region; P = unaffected paste. Heritage 2019, 2 2490 Variation of firing time, cooling rate, and removal of alumina from the glazing mixture results in modification of both the interface extension and the interfacial micro-compounds morphology (size and form). Influence of the Firing Time Increase the firing time from 0 to 120 min increases the interface extension from 10–25 to 35–45 µm (Figure 9a–c). Both the modified paste and the interfacial compounds regions enlarge. Besides, the microcrystals morphology is changed. Their forms become less irregular and more rectangular, with smoothed corners. After firing for 60 min, some microcrystals with a lighter border appear near the modified paste surface. Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 12 Influence of alumina removal from the frit Removing alumina from the glazing mixture affects drastically the modified paste expansion which increases to about 100 µm in depth. Its microstructure remains the same compared to the replica with Al (Figure 9c–d). In contrast, the extension of the interfacial crystals’ region seems not modified. This can be explained by the fact that addition of Al2O3 increases the glaze viscosity which will limit its diffusion in the paste. By removing it, the melt become less viscous and impregnates more deeply the paste [23]. Concerning the interfacial crystals, they are more rectangular and sharp-edged than the ones observed in the replica elaborated with Al. Crystallization of tridymite is also noticed up in the glaze (responsible of the sample matte appearance), but this result will not be detailed more here as it does not concern directly the interface area. (a) 0 min (b) 60 min (c) 120 min (d) 120 min without Al (e) quench (f) 250°C.h-1 (g) 50°C.h-1 (h) 10°C.h-1 Figure 9: Replicas glaze-paste interfaces (SEM-BSE images): a–c. influence of firing time at 1000°C, d. influence of alumina removal at 1000°C, e–h. influence of cooling rate after firing at 1000°C during 120 min. At the nanoscale, a morphology and a chemistry similar to the one observed in the archaeological samples were found in all the replicas samples quite regardless of the elaboration parameters. Big crystals incorporating small crystals were identified as being respectively lead feldspars with traces of calcium and sometimes titanium (Ca,Pb)Al2SiO2O8 and mullite 3Al2O3.2SiO2 (Figures 10 and 11). Figure 10: STEM-EDX analysis of interfacial compounds (replica fired 1 hour at 1000°C, quenched), a. STEM-HAADF image, b. hypermaps superposition including Al (red), Si (blue), and Pb (green), c. EDX spectra extracted from the three regions of interest indicated in a., normalized to Cu Figure 9. Replicas glaze-paste interfaces (SEM-BSE images): (a–c). influence of firing time at 1000 ◦C, (d). influence of alumina removal at 1000 ◦C, (e–h). influence of cooling rate after firing at 1000 ◦C during 120 min. Influence of the Cooling Rate Slowing the cooling rate from quenching to 10 ◦C·h−1 increases the interface extension from 35–45 to 60–75 µm (Figure 9e–h). Again, this expansion is due to both modified paste and interfacial crystals regions enlarging. This result indicates that cooling is a crucial stage in the interface formation: lead melt continues to impregnate the paste and interfacial crystals keep growing during this step. For replicas cooled at less than 250 ◦C·h−1, rectangular sharp-edged microcrystals are observed, added to the more irregular ones observed in the quenched replica. The biggest of these rectangular crystals can reach 10 µm long and are free from any submicro- and nano-heterogeneities (see Figure 8 high in the glaze for instance). Following his writings, Palissy was probably leaving his glazed ceramics to cool down slowly in the oven (~50 ◦C·h−1) [2]. This would be consistent with the observation of rectangular sharp-edged crystals measuring a few microns in the archaeological interfaces. Influence of Alumina Removal from the Frit Removing alumina from the glazing mixture affects drastically the modified paste expansion which increases to about 100 µm in depth. Its microstructure remains the same compared to the replica with Al (Figure 9c–d). In contrast, the extension of the interfacial crystals’ region seems not modified. This can be explained by the fact that addition of Al2O3 increases the glaze viscosity which will limit its diffusion in the paste. By removing it, the melt become less viscous and impregnates more deeply the paste [23]. Heritage 2019, 2 2491 Concerning the interfacial crystals, they are more rectangular and sharp-edged than the ones observed in the replica elaborated with Al. Crystallization of tridymite is also noticed up in the glaze (responsible of the sample matte appearance), but this result will not be detailed more here as it does not concern directly the interface area. At the nanoscale, a morphology and a chemistry similar to the one observed in the archaeological samples were found in all the replicas samples quite regardless of the elaboration parameters. Big crystals incorporating small crystals were identified as being respectively lead feldspars with traces of calcium and sometimes titanium (Ca,Pb)Al2Si2O8 and mullite 3Al2O3.2SiO2 (Figures 10 and 11). Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 12 Influence of alumina removal from the frit Removing alumina from the glazing mixture affects drastically the modified paste expansion which increases to about 100 µm in depth. Its microstructure remains the same compared to the replica with Al (Figure 9c–d). In contrast, the extension of the interfacial crystals’ region seems not modified. This can be explained by the fact that addition of Al2O3 increases the glaze viscosity which will limit its diffusion in the paste. By removing it, the melt become less viscous and impregnates more deeply the paste [23]. Concerning the interfacial crystals, they are more rectangular and sharp-edged than the ones observed in the replica elaborated with Al. Crystallization of tridymite is also noticed up in the glaze (responsible of the sample matte appearance), but this result will not be detailed more here as it does not concern directly the interface area. (a) 0 min (b) 60 min (c) 120 min (d) 120 min without Al (e) quench (f) 250°C.h-1 (g) 50°C.h-1 (h) 10°C.h-1 Figure 9: Replicas glaze-paste interfaces (SEM-BSE images): a–c. influence of firing time at 1000°C, d. influence of alumina removal at 1000°C, e–h. influence of cooling rate after firing at 1000°C during 120 min. At the nanoscale, a morphology and a chemistry similar to the one observed in the archaeological samples were found in all the replicas samples quite regardless of the elaboration parameters. Big crystals incorporating small crystals were identified as being respectively lead feldspars with traces of calcium and sometimes titanium (Ca,Pb)Al2SiO2O8 and mullite 3Al2O3.2SiO2 (Figures 10 and 11). Figure 10: STEM-EDX analysis of interfacial compounds (replica fired 1 hour at 1000°C, quenched), a. STEM-HAADF image, b. hypermaps superposition including Al (red), Si (blue), and Pb (green), c. EDX spectra extracted from the three regions of interest indicated in a., normalized to Cu (a) (b) (c) Figure 10. STEM-EDX analysis of interfacial compounds (replica fired 1 h at 1000 ◦C, quenched), (a). STEM-HAADF image, (b). hypermaps superposition including Al (red), Si (blue), and Pb (green), (c). EDX spectra extracted from the three regions of interest indicated in (a)., normalized to Cu intensity (the Cu originates from the TEM grid), the small peak before Ca peak is an artefact (Al sum peak); legend: G = glaze, BC = big crystal, SC = small crystal. Heritage 2019, 2 FOR PEER REVIEW 13 intensity (the Cu originates from the TEM grid), the small peak before Ca peak is an artefact (Al sum peak); legend: G = glaze, BC = big crystal, SC = small crystal. dhkl PbAl2Si2O8 6.54 020 6.46 001 5.80 011 4.61 −121 3.61 031 3.27 040 3.23 002 or −202 2.92 041 2.44 051 (a) (b) (c) dhkl 3Al2O3.2SiO2 5.25 110 3.79 200 3.27 210 2.61 220 or 111 (d) (e) (f) Figure 11: Crystallographic analysis of big (a–c) and small (d–f) compounds (replicas), a. TEM-BF image, b. SAED diffraction pattern acquired on the big crystal, c. interreticular distances dhkl extracted from b. and corresponding diffracting planes, d. HRTEM image, e. Fourier filtering of d., f. interreticular distances extracted from e. and corresponding diffracting planes. 4. Discussion: Comparison between Archaeological and Replicas Interfaces Both archaeological and replicas interfaces have comparable micro- and nano-structures. A modified paste area plus an interfacial crystals layer composed of lead feldspars monocrystals incorporating mullite monocrystals have been evidenced in both cases. The feldspars PbAl2SiO2O8 observed in archaeological interfaces contain small amounts of K and Ca (less than a few %wt) and sometime Ti in trace amounts. These three elements have probably diffused from the paste during the firing and entered the feldspars crystal structure, considering their size compatibility with Pb2+ ion (K+=1.5 Å; Ca2+=1.14 Å, Ti2+ = 1 Å, and Pb2+=1.33 Å). The lead feldspars observed in the replicas have the same composition except that they contain no K. This might be explained by the fact that the white paste of EP2319 sample contains slightly more K than the white paste used for the replicas (0.90 vs 0.50 %wt of K2O). A similar type of feldspars of average composition (K0.85Pb0.12 Ca0.03)Al1.08 Si2.92O8 have been previously observed at the body-glaze interfaces of a corpus of Hispano-Moresque pottery [18]. The interfacial crystals chemical composition is, in fact, a solid solution ranging between lead feldspars PbAl2SiO2O8, anorthite CaAl2SiO2O8, and K-feldspars KAlSi3O8. Increasing the firing time and decreasing the cooling rate increase significantly the interface extension and the feldspars crystals become larger and more rectangular. These results are consistent with observations made by other authors [9,12] and can be explained by the fact that by staying longer at high temperature, the melt is less viscous. Thus, it penetrates more into the paste and crystallization process is promoted. The mullite crystals size seems not affected by these parameters’ modification. Figure 11. Crystallographic analysis of big (a–c) and small (d–f) compounds (replicas), (a). TEM-BF image, (b). SAED diffraction pattern acquired on the big crystal, (c). interreticular distances dhkl extracted from (b). and corresponding diffracting planes, (d). HRTEM image, (e). Fourier filtering of (d,f). interreticular distances extracted from (e). and corresponding diffracting planes. Heritage 2019, 2 2492 4. Discussion: Comparison between Archaeological and Replicas Interfaces Both archaeological and replicas interfaces have comparable micro- and nano-structures. A modified paste area plus an interfacial crystals layer composed of lead feldspars monocrystals incorporating mullite monocrystals have been evidenced in both cases. The feldspars PbAl2Si2O8 observed in archaeological interfaces contain small amounts of K and Ca (less than a few %wt) and sometime Ti in trace amounts. These three elements have probably diffused from the paste during the firing and entered the feldspars crystal structure, considering their size compatibility with Pb2+ ion (K+ = 1.5 Å; Ca2+ = 1.14 Å, Ti2+ = 1 Å, and Pb2+ = 1.33 Å). The lead feldspars observed in the replicas have the same composition except that they contain no K. This might be explained by the fact that the white paste of EP2319 sample contains slightly more K than the white paste used for the replicas (0.90 vs. 0.50 %wt of K2O). A similar type of feldspars of average composition (K0.85Pb0.12 Ca0.03)Al1.08 Si2.92O8 have been previously observed at the body-glaze interfaces of a corpus of Hispano-Moresque pottery [18]. The interfacial crystals chemical composition is, in fact, a solid solution ranging between lead feldspars PbAl2Si2O8, anorthite CaAl2Si2O8, and K-feldspars KAlSi3O8. Increasing the firing time and decreasing the cooling rate increase significantly the interface extension and the feldspars crystals become larger and more rectangular. These results are consistent with observations made by other authors [9,12] and can be explained by the fact that by staying longer at high temperature, the melt is less viscous. Thus, it penetrates more into the paste and crystallization process is promoted. The mullite crystals size seems not affected by these parameters’ modification. This tends to indicate that at least a part of the mullite crystals incorporated inside the feldspars are originating from the body [6], rather than being newly formed compounds crystallizing during the thermal process. Removing alumina from the glazing mixture induces an opaque and matte visual appearance linked to the crystallization of trydimite in the glaze. Furthermore, it increases significantly the modified paste extension to about 100 µm. Yet Palissy honey glazes (on white body) always have a transparent and brilliant aspect with no crystallization, and the interfaces are always measuring between 10–30 µm thick (in particular the modified paste area is about 10 µm). The ceramist was thus very probably adding intentionally Al into the glazing mixture (in the form of clay), knowing that the presence of Al increases the melt viscosity and thus reduces any potential crystallization process in the glaze [23]. Another argument in favor of this hypothesis is that the amount of Al2O3 measured in different colored glazes (including yellow, grey, green, brown, etc.) decorating two authenticated Rustiques Figulines was found to be varying between 0.8 to 11%wt, depending on the color [5]. This result reinforces the hypothesis that the ceramist was controlling very precisely the amount of Al added in the glazing mixture, or else it would have been in the same order of magnitude on the whole object (only diffusing from the paste). If we suppose that Palissy was working at 1000 ◦C and consider the interface extension, we can deduce that he was probably working with a firing time of 1 h. However, hematite crystallizations stable only between 915 and 950 ◦C were recently evidenced in some of Palissy honey iron-rich glazes (3.2–4.9 %wt Fe2O3) applied on red pastes [6]. This result indicates that Palissy may have also worked with a temperature lower than 1000 ◦C. In addition, preliminary tests conducted on a replica fired at 900 ◦C and quenched immediately revealed an interface extension of about 2–3 µm using SEM. Therefore, if Palissy was working at lower temperatures than 1000 ◦C, he was probably using a firing time longer than 1 h which constitutes quite a technical achievement at his time. The cooling in the oven was then leading to the growth of an interface of 10–30 µm with rectangular sharp-edged feldspars crystals. 5. Conclusions Bernard Palissy white body-honey glaze interface areas (10–30 µm thick) were characterized down to the nanoscale: a modified paste region on which interfacial sharp-edged microcrystals are growing Heritage 2019, 2 2493 have been observed. These crystals have been identified as lead feldspars microcrystals (Pbx, Cay, Tiz, K1-x-y-z)Al2Si2O8 incorporating mullite 3Al2O3.2SiO2 nanocrystals. Replica samples fired at 1000 ◦C show different interface extensions and crystal shapes depending on the elaboration conditions used. The importance of adding Al to the glaze mixture was demonstrated since otherwise an opaque matte glaze was produced and the interface extension was much wider (~100 µm) than the archaeological ones. Besides, it was found that longer firing times and slower cooling rates lead to wider interfaces and more well-formed sharp-edged crystals. At 1000 ◦C, a firing time of 1 h followed by a cooling in the oven (50 ◦C·h−1) lead to an interface extension and microstructure comparable to those of Palissy samples. Finally, from a methodological point of view, the multi-scale analytical procedure including TEM and associated techniques has proved its worth. It has now to be applied for the investigation of others colored glazes and pastes to gain a deeper understanding of the elaboration conditions used in Palissy workshop. Author Contributions: Conceptualization, A.B., D.C., O.M., N.M. and L.C.; funding acquisition, A.B. and L.C.; investigation, M.G., G.R. and E.B.; methodology, M.G., G.R. and N.M.; resources, N.M. and O.D.; supervision, D.C., A.B. and L.C.; visualization, M.G.; writing—original draft, M.G.; writing—review & editing, M.G., G.R., E.B., D.C. and L.C. Funding: This research was funded by Région Ile de France (DIM Matériaux anciens et patrimoniaux) and Sorbonne Université. The APC was funded by European Materials Research Society. Acknowledgments: The archaeological samples were kindly made available by the conservation department of the National Museum of the Renaissance (Ecouen, France). IMPMC MEB platform (Imène Estève, Béatrice Doisneau and Stéphanie Delbrel), David Troadec (IEMN) and Claudie Josse (Raymond Castaing) are warmly thanked for the sample preparation. J-M Guigner is acknowledged for his kind help with TEM. Conflicts of Interest: The authors declare no conflict of interest. References 1. Bouquillon, A.; Barbe, F.; Lehuédé, P.; Castaing, J.; Crépin-Leblond, T. Bernard Palissy, Scientist and Potter of the Renaissance in France; Saunders, D., Spring, M., Meek, A., Eds.; The Renaissance Workshop. Archetype Publications: British Museum, London, UK, 2013; pp. 152–159. 2. Palissy, B. Discours Admirables; le Jeune, M., Ed.; Martin Le Jeune: Paris, France, 1580. 3. Dufay, B.; Kisch, Y.; Trombetta, P.-J.; Poulain, D.; Roumégoux, Y. L’atelier parisien de Bernard Palissy. Rvart 1987, 78, 33–60. [CrossRef] 4. Bouquillon, A. Heaven and Earth–′Madonne col Bambino’ and ‘Rustiques figulines’. Appl. Phys. A. 2004, 79, 161–166. [CrossRef] 5. Bouquillon, A.; Castaing, J.; Barbe, F.; Paine, S.R.; Christman, B.; Crépin-Leblond, T.; Heuer, A.H. Lead-Glazed Rustiques Figulines (Rustic Ceramics) of Bernard Palissy (1510–1590) and his Followers: Lead-glazed rustiques figulines of Bernard Palissy and followers. Archaeometry 2017, 59, 69–83. [CrossRef] 6. Roisine, G. Céramiques Glaçurées De Bernard Palissy: A La Recherche Des Secrets d’un Maître De La Renaissance. Ph.D.Thesis, Paris Sciences et Lettres (PSL Research University), Paris, France, 2018. 7. Roisine, G.; Capobianco, N.; Caurant, D.; Wallez, G.; Bouquillon, A.; Majérus, O.; Cormier, L.; Gilette, S.; Gerbier, A. The art of Bernard Palissy (1510–1590): influence of firing conditions on the microstructure of iron-colored high-lead glazes. Appl. Phys. A 2017, 123, 501. [CrossRef] 8. Tite, M.S.; Freestone, I.; Mason, R.; Molera, J.; Vendrell-Saz, M.; Wood, N. Lead glazes in Antiquity: Methods of production and reasons for use. Archaeometry 1998, 40, 241–260. [CrossRef] 9. Molera, J.; Pradell, T.; Salvadó, N.; Vendrell-Saz, M. Interactions between Clay Bodies and Lead Glazes. J. Am. Ceram. Soc. 2001, 84, 1120–1128. [CrossRef] 10. Coentro, S.X. An Iberian Heritage: Hispano-Moresque Architectural Tiles in Portuguese and Spanish Collections. Ph.D.Thesis, Faculdade de Ciencias e Tecnologia, Lisboa, Portugal, 2017. 11. Ben Amara, A. Céramiques Glaçurées De l’espace Méditerranéen (IX-XVII Siècles ap. J.-C.)-Matériaux, Techniques Et Altération. Ph.D.Thesis, Université Michel de Montaigne Bordeaux, Bordeaux, France, 2002. 12. Walton, M.S. A Materials Chemistry Investigation of Archaeological Lead Glazes. Ph.D.Thesis, Oxford University, Oxford, UK, 2004. http://dx.doi.org/10.3406/rvart.1987.347668 http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s00339-004-2507-3 http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/arcm.12247 http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s00339-017-1089-9 http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1475-4754.1998.tb00836.x http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1151-2916.2001.tb00799.x Heritage 2019, 2 2494 13. Ben Amara, A. Interactions between Lead Glazes and Bodies: Research on the Mode of Application of the Glazing Mixture; Institución Fernando el Católico: Zaragoza, Spain, 2006; pp. 399–404. 14. Fortina, C.; Memmi Turbanti, I.; Grassi, F. Glazed ceramic manufacturing in southern Tuscany (Italy): evidence of technological continuity throughout the medieval period (10th–14th centuries). Archaeometry 2008, 50, 30–47. [CrossRef] 15. Walton, M.S.; Tite, M.S. Production technology of Roman lead-glazed pottery and its continuance into late Antiquity. Archaeometry 2010, 52, 733–759. [CrossRef] 16. Pradell, T.; Molera, J.; Salvadó, N.; Labrador, A. Synchrotron radiation micro-XRD in the study of glaze technology. Appl. Phys. A 2010, 99, 407–417. [CrossRef] 17. Bouquillon, A.; Castaing, J.; Dufoumier, D.; Bergeret, J. Le problème particulier des “suites de Palissy” du Pré d’Auge. Techné 2004, 20, 83–91. 18. Molera, J.; Pradell, T.; Martinez-Manent, S.; Vendrell-Saz, M. The growth of sanidine crystals in the lead of glazes of Hispano-Moresque pottery. Appl. Clay Sci. 1993, 7, 483–491. [CrossRef] 19. Benedetto, G.D.; Acquafredda, P.; Masieri, M.; Quarta, G.; Sabbatini, L.; Zambonin, P.G.; Tite, M.; Walton, M. Investigation on Roman lead glaze from Canosa: Results of chemical analyses. Archaeometry 2004, 46, 615–624. [CrossRef] 20. Ben Amara, A.; Gourdon-Platel, N.; Bechtel, F.; Schvoerer, M.; Bon, P. Carreaux glaçurés provenant d’un château du Duc de Berry (Mehun-sur-Yèvre, fin XIVe siècle): Recherche d’indices techniques. Archeosciences 2005, 29, 21–34. [CrossRef] 21. Pradell, T.; Molina, G.; Molera, J.; Pla, J.; Labrador, A. The use of micro-XRD for the study of glaze color decorations. Appl. Phys. A 2013, 111, 121–127. [CrossRef] 22. Coentro, S.; Trindade, R.A.; Mirão, J.; Candeias, A.; Alves, L.C.; Silva, R.M.; Muralha, V.S. Hispano-Moresque ceramic tiles from the Monastery of Santa Clara-a-Velha (Coimbra, Portugal). J. Archaeol. Sci. 2014, 41, 21–28. [CrossRef] 23. Kara, A. Characterization of the Interfaces between Leadless Glazes and A Bone China Body. Ph.D. Thesis, University of Bath, Bath, UK, 1999. © 2019 by the authors. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1475-4754.2007.00340.x http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1475-4754.2009.00506.x http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s00339-010-5639-7 http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/0169-1317(93)90017-U http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1475-4754.2004.00177.x http://dx.doi.org/10.4000/archeosciences.441 http://dx.doi.org/10.1007/s00339-012-7445-x http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jas.2013.07.031 http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Introduction Materials and Methods Results Archaelogical Interfaces Replicas Interfaces Discussion: Comparison between Archaeological and Replicas Interfaces Conclusions References 
work_a3xouq5nxre5nfuhnofiiyn22u	----	doi:10.1016/j.eururo.2007.10.068 Editorial Red Wine, Sex, and a Genius Riccardo Bartoletti *, Nicola Mondaini, Tommaso Cai Department of Clinical Care Medicine and Surgery, University of Florence, S. Maria Annunziata Hospital Urological Unit, Florence, Italy e u r o p e a n u r o l o g y 5 3 ( 2 0 0 8 ) 2 3 1 – 2 3 3 a v a i l a b l e a t w w w . s c i e n c e d i r e c t . c o m j o u r n a l h o m e p a g e : w w w . e u r o p e a n u r o l o g y . c o m Regular, moderate consumption of red wine is linked to a reduced risk of coronary heart disease and to lower overall mortality. The same protective effects on the whole vascular system could be hypothesized for erectile dysfunction if considered as the ‘‘tip of the iceberg’’ of a systemic vascular disorder [1]. Nevertheless, the relative contribution of alcohol and polyphenol components in wine to these effects is unclear [2]. Red wine polyphenols induce endothelium-dependent dilatation of blood vessels through the nitric oxide (NO) system, increasing the expression of endothelial NO synthase and suppressing the synthesis of endothe- lin-1, which is a peptide with a consistent vasocon- strictive effect [3,4]. NO from nerves and possibly from endothelia plays a crucial role in initiating and maintaining intracavernous pressure increase, penile vasodila- tion, and penile erection that are dependent on cyclic guanosine monophosphate synthesized with activation of soluble guanylyl cyclase in smooth muscle cells [5]. However, consensus is lacking on the protective effects of the moderate consumption of red wine, which may interact with the NO system, as a result of not only alcohol but also the presence of polyphenolic flavonoids [6]. The effect of wine on sex life was recently the theme of a special 1-d congress in Leonardo’s home town, Vinci. In a keynote address Carlo Pedretti, Director of the Armand Hammer Center of Leonardo Studies at UCLA and its Italian division at the University of Urbino, focused his discussion on a stunning black- chalk drawing clearly inspired by an Angel of the * Corresponding author. E-mail address: riccardo.bartoletti@unifi.it (R. Bartoletti). 0302-2838/$ – see back matter # 2007 European Association of Urology. Publis Annunciation but showing the bold image of a young Bacchus or Dionysus with an obtrusive erection (Fig. 1). The aspects regarding wine and sexuality have been well known since the time of ancient Greece when a legend told of the birth of wine as one of Dionysus’s tears. For the Romans Dionysus became Bacchus, the god of wine and fertility. From the marriage of Bacchus and Venus, Priapus was born. Pedretti’s paper placed great emphasis on the complexities of much new evidence of Leonardo’s bisexuality, also viewed with reference to Leonar- do’s ideas about the effect of wine and drugs on the working of one’s mind and body. This offered a different image of Leonardo’s own character, indeed of his inner life, which now appears so well in keeping with the spirit of his time and with echoes even in that masterpiece of the French Renaissance, François Rabelais’s Gargantua and Pantagruel, which is a thorough and lively account of the role and importance of wine by a humanist who was also a physician. The Leonardo drawing, which was discovered in Germany in 1990 and which is the core of his argument, deserves special attention. From 1993 to 2000 this drawing toured the world, from Europe to America and from South Africa to Asia, with the travelling exhibition Leonardo Scientist, Inventor, Artist, which started with three locations in Sweden: Malmö, Stockholm, and Goteburg. Presented for the first time in New York on March 23, 1991, on the occasion of a congress of art historians and psychoanalysts organized by New York University, it was then the object of hed by Elsevier B.V. All rights reserved. doi:10.1016/j.eururo.2007.10.068 mailto:riccardo.bartoletti@unifi.it http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.eururo.2007.10.068 Fig. 1 – Leonardo da Vinci (1452–1519), The ‘‘Angel in the Flesh’’ (Bacchus with an erection), c. 1513–1515. Black chalk or charcoal on rough, blue paper, 268 T 197 mm. German private property, in trust of The Pedretti Foundation, Los Angeles, CA, USA. e u r o p e a n u r o l o g y 5 3 ( 2 0 0 8 ) 2 3 1 – 2 3 3232 considerations and evaluations on the part of specialists in both disciplines, not only as an exceptional document of Leonardo’s complex psyche but also as a problem of attribution and therefore of style. Its suspected provenance from the Royal Collection at Windsor Castle in the 19th century was to be confirmed by the English art critic Brian Sewell in The Sunday Telegraph of April 5, 1992: ‘‘It was well known that the Royal Collection had once contained a number of pornographic drawings by Leonardo. I remember being fascinated by the story when I worked for a while in the Royal Library. The whole episode had passed into the mythology of the place. According to the version I heard, a large man in a Sherlock Holmes cape had arrived one day to have a look at the drawings. He was reputed to be a very eminent German scholar. It was not until some time later that the drawings were found to have been stolen [. . .] There is no doubt that the drawings were a considerable embarrassment, and I think everyone was very relieved to find that they’d gone.’’ According to Sewell, recent scholars who knew of the fact but never mentioned it in their publications included Anthony Blunt and Lord Kenneth Clark. As for the attribution to Leonardo of the newly discovered sheet, aside from the indisputable authenticity of the writing on the reverse, it was immediately considered as a working hypothesis both in terms of an unquestionable conception by the Master with his direct participation in a pupil’s work, and as an autograph work of perplexing quality that could only be explained by psycho- analysis. School versions of a lost painting by Leonardo of an Angel of the Annunciation are known, as is a student drawing on a sheet of Leonardo’s studies for the Battle of Anghiari of about 1505. The angel was to be seen from the front until just below the waist line and as a result its sex was partially hidden in the painted versions. In the present drawing this is indeed spelled out. The angelic smile is transformed into a faun-like grin. The pointing hand is merely sketched. The hand raised to the breast and holding a veil over the erect penis is elaborated in considerably greater detail. The female breasts turn the angel’s body into that of a hermaphrodite. On the back of the sheet Leonardo wrote three Greek words also in black chalk and in his characteristic left-handed script: astrapen, bronten, ceraunobolian. They are taken from Pliny’s account of Apelle’s legendary feat of depicting precisely that which cannot be depicted, such as the atmospheric phenomena referred to by those words, namely, lightning, storms, and thunderbolts. Style, handwriting, as well as blue paper and technique, all indicate the period during which Leonardo devoted his energies to a series of Deluge drawings now at Windsor and dating from around 1515 or later. The same type of blue paper is found in an anatomy manuscript at Windsor from 1513 or later. A pen and ink profile of a young man of comparable features is found on a sheet of almost identical size (258 � 198 mm) in that manuscript. Recent research has shown a possible source for Leonardo’s bold idea of the Angel in the Flesh. This is Antonio Pucci’s Historia della bella reina d’oriente, a 14th century poem certainly known to Leonardo since he quotes from it an octave about a grotesque giant. A few octaves before one comes across the erotic scene of the young monarch who had just been transformed by divine intervention from a beautiful girl into an exuberant young man. To the wife wondering about his exceptional male attribute, he explains how it was given to him by the angel Gabriel: Fig. 2 – Leonardo’s Bacchus in Cesariano’s edition of Vitruvius (Como, 1521). Detail. e u r o p e a n u r o l o g y 5 3 ( 2 0 0 8 ) 2 3 1 – 2 3 3 233 Having tasted that cock she said: ‘‘My love, where did you get this?’’. And he replied: ‘‘Gabriel the Angel, As God willed, made it out to me’’. ‘‘No wonder that’s so good and beautiful’’, She said, ‘‘if that’s where it comes from!’’. And so the gesture of the pointing hand indicating a divine disposition (‘‘as God willed’’) acquires in this drawing an even more compelling significance. Leonardo does indeed belong to a popular tradition of open and sharp frankness in dealing with scurrilous themes even in a religious context. This is shown by such contemporary works as the Geta e Biria and the Manganello that he owned. A humanistic attitude toward erotic imagery inspired by the Antique could well be recognized in Cesare Cesariano’s rendering of Leonardo’s famous Vitruvian Man as published in his 1521 edi- tion of Vitruvius (Fig. 2). In a recently discovered document, Cesariano mentions Leonardo as his own teacher. No surprise then that the youth in his illustration should reproduce Leonardo’s Angel in the Flesh as a young Bacchus, including not only the penis in full erection but also the facial features framed by luxuriant, wavy hair that barely conceals a crown of vine leaves. In conclusion, the link between wine and sex was established in art and history at least 500 yr ago and nowadays the link is intriguing in terms of evaluat- ing the quality of life of patients with erectile dysfunction. References [1] Montorsi P, Montorsi F, Schulman CC. Is erectile dysfunc- tion the ‘‘tip of the iceberg’’ of a systemic vascular dis- order? Eur Urol 2003;44:352–4. [2] Corder R, Mullen W, Khan NQ, et al. Red wine procyani- dins and vascular health. Nature 2006;444:566. [3] Hashimoto M, Kim S, Eto M, et al. Effect of acute intake of red wine on flow-mediated vasodilatation of the brachial artery. Am J Cardiol 2001;88:1457–60. [4] Corder R, Douthwaite JA, Lees DM, et al. Endothelin-1 synthesis reduced by red wine. Nature 2001;414: 863–4. [5] Toda N, Ayajiki K, Okamura T. Nitric oxide and penile erection function. Pharmacol Ther 2005;106:233–66. [6] Leslie SJ, Atkins G, Oliver JJ, Webb DJ. No adverse hemo- dynamic interaction between sildenafil and red wine. Clin Pharmacol Ther 2004;76:365–70. 
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work_an3jsfjzjjfzhgb2t6rbkvkjgy	----	The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning activities Vol.:(0123456789) Cultural Studies of Science Education (2020) 15:1019–1045 https://doi.org/10.1007/s11422-019-09968-1 1 3 O R I G I N A L PA P E R The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning activities Anttoni Kervinen1  · Wolff‑Michael Roth2 · Kalle Juuti1 · Anna Uitto1 Received: 27 February 2019 / Accepted: 11 December 2019 / Published online: 21 January 2020 © The Author(s) 2020 Abstract Science education can be alienating for students, as it is apart from the mundane world with which they are familiar. Science education research has approached the gap between every- day understandings and science learning largely as a challenge arising while learning about science concepts and the kinds of instructional approaches that may support this. However, the forms of everyday ways of relating to the world fundamentally expand beyond concep- tual understandings. In this study, we use data from an outdoor science learning setting to examine a range of non-conceptual but culturally possible and intelligible ways in which students actually connect science learning processes to their everyday world and its char- acteristic commonsense understandings. Our study shows how students’ (a) spontaneous embodied explorations, (b) humor in all of its bodily and grotesque forms, and (c) narrative representation and interpretation of the world are used to contextualize science learning, namely its environment and content, within their familiar world. We show how students draw on these fundamental cultural forms of understanding the world even without particu- lar instructional support while, at the same time, completing their science tasks according to the goals set by their teachers. Our findings suggest that the ways in which students con- nect their everyday world with science learning do not have to be explicitly related to the particular conceptual learning goals but can parallel conceptual learning while contextual- izing it in affectively meaningful ways. Keywords Embodied learning · Everyday experiences · Interactional analysis · Humor · Narratives Lead editor: C. Pouliot. * Anttoni Kervinen anttoni.kervinen@helsinki.fi Wolff-Michael Roth mroth@uvic.ca Kalle Juuti kalle.juuti@helsinki.fi Anna Uitto anna.uitto@helsinki.fi 1 University of Helsinki, P.O. Box 9, 00014 Helsinki, Finland 2 University of Victoria, MacLaurin A567, Victoria, BC, Canada http://orcid.org/0000-0003-1689-6457 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s11422-019-09968-1&domain=pdf 1020 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 Students’ experiences during learning—particularly how they connect to prior expe- riences—have been a persistent topic of science educational research. From a sociocul- tural perspective, previous mundane experiences have been theorized, for example, to be involved in the cultural border crossing between mundane and scientific understanding (Aikenhead 2001), reactualized in the social interaction in the classroom to understand the situation in scientifically relevant ways (Lidar, Almqvist and Östman 2009), or pro- cessed toward either unitary and monologic or open and dialogic forms of knowing (van Eijk and Roth 2011). Indeed, there is a fundamental connection between the historically and individually developed common sense of knowing one’s way around the world and any new learning that occurs, even if the latter overturns the wisdom of the older and more fundamental common sense (Husserl 1989; James 1907). It is, therefore, not surprising to read that experiences prior to learning scientific content contribute to the formation of mis- conceptions (Vosniadou, Vamvakoussi and Skopeliti 2008). Insofar as different approaches underline the complexity of understanding the significance of (prior) experiences in sci- ence learning, the topic is all the more important. Research has repeatedly shown that a major reason for the difficulties of affiliating with science and science learning is that stu- dents do not perceive science as connected to their everyday lives, experiences, and cul- tural resources (e.g., Archer et  al. 2010). There are gaps between mundane and scientific knowledge, even though the origin of the latter can be traced back to the experiences of the world in everyday life (Husserl 1989). These experiences are the premises from which knowledge is abstracted and passed on to subsequent generations. However, if the con- nection to the primal experiential premises is lost, there is a risk that scientific knowledge becomes valid “as a merely factual tradition […] understandable only by those men who shared the same merely factual presuppositions of understanding” (Husserl 1989, p. 179). Based on a phenomenological orientation, this lack of a connection between scientific knowledge and mundane experience exists as a major challenge both in and to science edu- cation (Roth 2015). Instructional approaches that contextualize science learning in terms of students’ everyday experiences are suggested to both bridge the gap between their everyday lives and support science learning (e.g., Tsurusaki et  al. 2012). Most studies of the connec- tions between everyday experiences and science learning share two emphases. First, the connections focus on the conceptual level with regard to describing how the observed scientific phenomenon or concept is linked to experienced everyday phenomenon (e.g., Na and Song 2014). Second, even as students make spontaneous connections in their interactions, instructional guidance and scaffolding appear to be required for these connections to actually contribute to conceptual learning (e.g., Fleer 2009). However, experiences in a learning situation and how they are connected to everyday life expand beyond cognitive and conceptual dimensions, fundamentally integrating practical and affective dimensions of life (Roth and Jornet  2014). Experiences—past and present— are inevitably situated in the particular social interactions (Lidar et  al. 2009), and the students’ social interaction arises from the fullness of their lives instead of solely from the academic goals set by the teacher (Roth 2009). Little research exists at this time about the range and variety of cultural resources that are used to connect everyday life and learning sciences. This study was designed to investigate how science learning situations come to be connected to students’ everyday life experiences in ways that go beyond the concep- tual dimensions. We draw on data from a biology unit in which eighth-grade Finnish 1021The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 students conduct field research in which students worked independently and out of ear- shot of the teacher. Theoretical background Research on the connection between everyday experiences and science learning takes a largely intellectualizing approach: The focus is on how the instructional approaches can help students to draw connections between their everyday lives and the conceptual world of science (e.g., Lidar et  al. 2009). Although science learning inevitably has a strong conceptual character, the processes of learning—in addition to those making links to everyday experiences—involve the fullness of life along with its affective and bodily aspects (Roth and van Eijck 2010). The present study expands the scope of eve- ryday experiences and their role in learning beyond the conceptual, cognitive, and lin- guistic dimensions through three non-conceptual dimensions of everyday understand- ings that are based on the works of mathematician and phenomenological philosopher Edmund Husserl, pragmatist psychologist and philosopher William James, philosopher and literature critic Mikhail Bakhtin, and philosophers and educators on the functions of narrative in the construction of cultural reality. Science education and students’ everyday understandings A major challenge for science education today is the disconnect that students perceive between everyday (mundane) and scientific knowledge; this disconnect is often feels alienating for students and is one of the reasons for the declining interest in science and scientific careers (Barmby et al. 2008). A considerable amount of research has focused on the reasons for this alienation. It has been suggested that there is a gap between what many students experience in and how they perceive their everyday lives, on the one hand, and how science education in schools is presented and experienced on the other (e.g., Archer et al. 2010). Whereas out-of-school experiences are related to the students’ interest in school science (Uitto et al. 2006), there is a sense that the familiar and every- day experiences of students are not sufficiently represented in science lessons (Na and Song 2014). Even though it appears as if scientific knowledge is separate from the everyday world, it is actually and fundamentally based on humans’ everyday, mundane experiences in and of their world; the abstracted idealities are produced out of “what is given in the cultural world” (Husserl 1989, p. 169). Even in its abstracted forms, the process of science is very much a cultural process, and scientist themselves understand science as being socially con- structed (Gilbert and Mulkay 1984). As Vygotsky (1978) and other scholars of sociocul- tural psychology have shown, this cultural world is social prior to individuals constructing it as such; the development direction of the thinking and understanding of the world is essentially from the preexisting social understanding to the individual one (Roth 2019). In addition, the anthropological approach to culture is social. Culture is conceptualized as the norms, values, expectations, and conventional actions of a group (Phelan et al. 1991). The fundamental importance of everyday sociocultural processes in understanding the 1022 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 world and producing scientific knowledge explains the various takes on the cultural dimen- sion of science education. The common ground for these studies is to acknowledge that there is often a gap between science and the cultural conventions of the students, or, to put it another way, the cultural resources from which students draw in their everyday lives turn out to be inadequate to enable full participation in science education (e.g., Aikenhead 2001). Connecting students’ familiar everyday cultures and experiences with science learn- ing has been shown to be a difficult task. From the cognitive perspective, incorporating students’ everyday knowledge into science learning may be not only challenging but may also be considered harmful, as it is the origin of misconceptions (Vosniadou et al. 2008). Between everyday culture and science, there appear to be boundaries in place; so, learning means crossing cultural borders (Aikenhead 2001). Other research supposes that there are different spaces: The first space represents the home culture, the second space represents the scientific culture, and the third space is where the two are cobbled together (Gutiér- rez, Baquedano-López, and Tejeda 1999). In the third space, students’ cultural resources— familiar sociocultural and linguistic ways of participating in the community—are said to merge with scientific discourse to create a dialogic space within which students’ everyday discourses and the official science discourse may converge in meaningful and authentic ways (Wallace 2004). In science lessons, students are said to (a) draw on various funds of everyday knowledge that is appropriated in the first space—such as knowledge acquired during interaction with family, peers, community, and popular culture—and (b) learn meaningfully by applying these funds (Moje et  al. 2004). However, the construction of third spaces that foster meaningful connections in science lessons can be challenging, espe- cially when the cultural backgrounds are diverse, and many studies emphasize the impor- tance of considerable instructional support and guidance (e.g., Barton and Tan 2009). The preceding shows that there is an emphasis on knowing. Indeed, most studies on the use of students’ past experiences focus on how they draw on the conceptual and cognitive contents of their everyday experiences to support (or not support) learning and scientific understanding (e.g., Lidar et al. 2009). The translation of science knowledge into everyday experiences has been studied in terms of how the former enriches the latter (e.g., Pugh, Bergstrom, and Spencer 2017). Moreover, even if it has been recognized by previous stud- ies that various familiar cultural resources are used in learning situations, and a number of studies have focused on instructional approaches that take leverage of cultural forms of relating to the world, such as narratives (e.g., Mutonyi 2016), few studies have actually investigated the spontaneous and ongoing processes by which students’ everyday ways of understanding the world become the basis of science learning. Philosophical frameworks for the integration of science into everyday world Some philosophers place the foundation of understanding the world on the intuitive and self-evident facts from our lived-in world (e.g., James 1907). Accordingly, “in every indi- vidual life from childhood up to maturity, the originally intuitive life which creates its originally self-evident structures through activities on the basis of sense-experience very quickly and in increasing measure falls victim to the seduction of language” (Husserl 1989, p. 165). The subsequent understandings are layered on this primary and fundamental 1023The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 evidence from sense-experience, which is the foundation of common sense. And although the new scientific knowledge occasionally undoes the previous forms of understanding, the very foundation of the experiential premises of understanding remain. For an indi- vidual, this experiential understanding forms the primal premises of meaning that “lie in the prescientific cultural world” (Husserl 1989, p. 172). Both Husserl and James trace the scientific understanding of the world, as abstract as it may be, back to these experiential premises. Because of the continuity of experience (Dewey 1934/2008), every new experi- ence is based on, takes up, and transforms all prior experience. The origin of any scientifi- cally conceptualized phenomenon is an individual experience in the world of everyday life, that historically and progressively transforms its meaning to a more conceptual or abstract form. As the experiential premise constitutes the foundation undergirding the logic of a given phenomenon and concept, learners of new epochs relive the conceptual idealizations that historically led to the first scientific idealizations (Husserl 1976). Otherwise, science would be merely logical and would have no connection to the world (Husserl 1989). For science education to build upon these experiential premises, a genetic approach has been suggested, emphasizing the primary experiential observations as the starting point of learn- ing and the counterintuitive world of science remaining rooted within them (Roth  2015). The sentences in which scientific discipline is expressed “must be fixed and capable of being made self-evident again and again” (Husserl 1989, p. 177). Husserl’s way of thinking about the experienced world shares a similarity with James (1907), who suggests that our fundamental ways of thinking are based on a commonsense level of thought. The common sense is grounded in sense impressions that become ration- alized by a set of concepts, such as “thing,” “the same or different,” “subjects and attrib- utes,” and “causal influences” (James 1907, p. 173). These commonsense categories spe- cifically and the vast expanse of associated, generally invisible common sense become the foundation of our understanding of how the world works and the linguistic conceptualiza- tion of it. This is so because these conceptualizations have been verified by the immediate facts of experience which they first fitted; and then from fact to fact and from man to man they may have spread, until all language rested on them and we are now incapable of thinking naturally in any other terms. (James 1907, pp. 182–183) Commonsense levels of thought may be separated from the scientific level of thought when science extrapolates to “invisible impalpable things; and the old visible common-sense things are supposed to result from the mixture of these invisibles” (James 1907, p. 185). However, the fundamental role of commonsense in our practical understanding of how the world works remains. Both Husserl and James emphasize the foundational role of the body in experiential understanding, though they conceive of bodily character in a broader sense than mere phys- ical interaction: “‘[s]elf,’ ‘body,’ in the substantial or metaphysical sense—no one escapes subjection to those forms of thought” (James 1907, p. 180). Indeed, bodily understand- ings are significant in students’ conceptual understanding of science and in grounding their learning to their personal experiences (Roth and Jornet 2017). However, for the analytical purposes of the present study, the theoretical review of the bodily aspect of life must be further expanded from the point of view of a cultural historical dimension. 1024 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 An analysis of the works of French Renaissance author François Rabelais shows how a material bodily principle of life is a reference for situating and appreciating the world (Bakhtin 1984). The material bodily principle relativizes higher powers, authority, and authoritative knowledge (including that of science) by referring them back to the body, including humor and the grotesque. In science education, humor has been shown to assist students in appropriating science into the familiar worlds of their everyday lives (Roth, Ritchie, Hudson, and Mergard 2011) or overturn the authoritative dimensions of teaching (Kervinen, Roth, Juuti and Uitto 2020), whereas the grotesque in biology education can serve as a liberating moment and a resource for leveling the social hierarchies of science learning (Weinstein and Broda 2009). Bakhtin’s analyses focus on the relationship that peo- ple have with the official, serious, and dogmatic institutional power and structures. During Rabelais’s time, the carnival sense of life, humor, laughter, and the oaths and curses of the marketplace gave people “a temporary suspension of the entire official system with all its prohibitions and hierarchic barriers” (Bakhtin 1984, p. 89). This “second life” emphasizes the material, bodily aspect of life, “lowering of all that is high, spiritual, ideal, abstract” (p. 19) and serves as way to momentarily relativize the official seriousness and enter “the sphere of utopian freedom” (p. 89). Despite being joyous and of positive affect, this “sec- ond life” has a material, bodily, and grotesque character, and “[t]he people’s laughter which characterized all the forms of grotesque realism from immemorial times was linked with the bodily lower stratum” (p. 20). Such forms, as one scientist’s analysis of the role of humor in science shows, come with empathy—that is, with an affective involvement with the berated other or thing (Kilbourne 1996). In addition to the bodily aspect of relating to the world—apparent in the form of com- mon sense, as well as in relativizing humor and the grotesque—a third, non-conceptual dimension grounding the fundamental sense of understanding how the lived world works is the narrative representation of the experience and the world. In the narrative form, the fundamentally temporal character of human existence reaches language: “[T]ime becomes human to extent that it is articulated through a narrative mode, and narrative attains its full meaning when it becomes a condition of temporal existence” (Ricœur 1983, p. 52). The narrative discourse is not limited to the literate representations in fictive text and nov- els, but, like in the novel, narrative is “intimately interwoven with those direct changes in reality” (Bakhtin 1981, p. 7). Thus, narrative accounts inevitably involve the human world of action and experience, as “the narrative is part of a chain of speech by which a cul- tural community comes to be constituted and through which it interprets itself narratively” (Ricœur 1991, p. 131). Being a characteristic form that enables humans to relate to the cultural world, narrative is significant for understanding the relationship between everyday life and science learning (Bruner 2004). Two modes of thought and of relating to the world may be differentiated: (a) science and scientific knowledge represent formal and logical forms of relating to the world, constituting a paradigmatic mode of thought, and (b) people use the narrative mode of thought to structure and explain their actions, motivations, and relationships through narratives. Even though there are also narratives and emotions in the world of science, the scientific knowledge is presented in a way that “attempts to fulfill the ideal of a formal, mathematical system of description and explanation” (p. 12). Because the narrative mode is the first and primary way for people to think and learn about the world, the perceived paradigmatic mode of thinking emphasized in science education abstracts and distances itself from the everyday lives and feelings of the people (Bruner 1986). Several studies 1025The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 suggest the inclusion of narrative elements in science education to close the gap between everyday narrative understanding and scientific explanations and language (e.g., Avraami- dou and Osborne, 2009). The focus of these studies is primarily on the ways to use nar- ratives and narrative explanations to communicate and advance understanding of science concepts and processes (e.g., Mutonyi 2016). Methods In this study, we investigate the ways through which students connect their everyday expe- riences with science learning processes. Students were accompanied on field trips during which they worked on biology learning tasks independently and out of the earshot of the teacher, which allowed for relatively free interaction and for the cultural phenomena to become particularly visible, thereby enabling them to be studied. Participants As a part of a research project on outdoor learning in Finnish schools, one teacher and two classes from one secondary school (grades 7–9) participated in the study. The par- ticular school was selected for the research project because most of the ecology units in its biology courses consisted of fieldwork. The teaching followed the educational goals of the Finnish national core curriculum (Finnish National Board of Education, FNBE 2016). Students from two-eighth-grade classes, aged 13–14  years (average 14  years), partici- pated in the study. Based on the post-course group interviews, as well as informal discus- sions with the teacher, the students in the group from which the examples in this study were derived were not very science-oriented and perceived the assessment as an important factor motivating them to complete the tasks well. Because it has been shown that talk- ing about science and technology is a sociocultural phenomenon irrespective of individual characteristics (Roth 2013), knowing the individual characteristics of the particular stu- dents is not important for this study. Here, for our analyses, we take the sociological stance that Roth proposed in this journal. During the fieldwork for the eighth-grade biology course, the students worked in an urban forest park area near the school. The first part of the course (eight lessons) consisted of small tasks and inquiries into the ecological phenomena in the forest. The lessons usu- ally started with an introduction (5–10 min) in the classroom before walking for 5–10 min to the nearby urban forest area. The students worked in groups of three or four and moved independently in the forest, most of the time without the direct presence of the teacher, to complete the tasks (e.g., observing and identifying plants and abiotic factors, such as light and soil in a chosen spot; observing different habitats; and finding and identifying mushrooms or invertebrates). Depending on the task, they provided the teacher with brief reports at the end of or during parts of the lesson through photographs and mobile mes- sages. The teacher moved around between different groups or remained stationary, com- municating via whole-class mobile messages. The latter part of the course (eight lessons), which entailed working in the same groups, consisted of a larger inquiry based on stu- dents’ own research questions. There were single, 45-minute and double, 90-minute peri- ods, which affected the contribution of the tasks and some other pedagogical arrangements between the two classes. Most of the small tasks were evaluated, and each contributed 10% 1026 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 to the final grade, whereas an individual plant-collecting task and a larger group inquiry represented a larger contribution of 20% and 30%. The teacher had a master’s degree and 30  years of experience teaching biology and geography at Finnish secondary and upper secondary schools. For over two decades, she had been developing biology curricula with an emphasis on outdoor teaching. The peda- gogical choices of the outdoor intensive model that was used are described in more detail elsewhere (Kervinen, Uitto, and  Juuti  2018). The teacher briefly emphasized the trust- ing and positive relationship between her and the students as well as students’ sense of freedom, whereas the structural components, such as regularity of fieldwork and ongoing assessment practices, were needed to justify and present the activities to students as real schoolwork. The teacher argued, in accordance with the national core curriculum (FNBE 2016), that authentic interaction with the natural environment encourages students to make observations and engage in thinking that promotes relevant ecological understanding. Simultaneously, the freedom of the students contributes to a pleasant experience for stu- dents that supports a positive relationship with nature. Data collection and analysis The data sources used in the study include video- and audio-recorded lessons of two groups of four students, field notes, and group interviews of the students after the course. For the video recordings, two handheld cameras were used. The audio was recorded using external microphones for each student and the teacher; this allowed the videos to be recorded from some distance, thereby interfering minimally with the stu- dents’ activities. During the group interview after the lessons, the students were asked about the presence of the researchers and video recording. They reported that they had quickly forgotten about the recording and that it, thus, had no effect on their activi- ties. For example, in the group interview, when the students were shown short clips of the video data, they laughed upon realizing that all of their conversations had indeed been recorded. All agreed on that the recording had no effect; for example, Mark stated that he “completely forgot the recording at some point in the beginning,” and Max con- firmed that “as you could see, we didn’t talk particularly nicely there.” According to these repeated remarks from the students themselves, it is justifiable to assume that the recording and the relatively distant presence of the researchers did not influence the stu- dents’ interactions in a way that significantly changed its content or altered the atmos- phere from what it would normally have been. The video and audio recordings were synchronized before the analyses. Raw tran- scripts of the lessons were produced using Transana 3.10 software. The episodes that were selected for the in-depth analyses were subsequently transcribed using a conver- sation-analytic system (Selting et  al. 1998). The transcription conventions used are explained in Appendix. The conversation among the students originally took place in Finnish, and the fragments presented in this paper are translations (with the exception of occasional English words, which are underlined in the transcriptions). The translations were done with the aim of capturing the original unofficial tone of the spoken language. The translated idiomatic remarks are further explained in brackets. The translation was first done and agreed upon by three native Finnish speakers, after which it was checked by a native English speaker. 1027The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 The analyses reported in this study are based on the interactional analysis of students’ interactions (Jordan and Henderson 1995). First, the important themes were identified from the data sources. The samples from the selected lessons were analyzed interac- tionally in joint data sessions. Based on the discussions on the emerging sense of what is happening in the samples, we formulated tentative hypotheses based on the studied phenomena. We then scoured the entire video database to find evidence that either dis- confirmed or was consistent with the tentative hypotheses (Roth 2005). The emergent understandings generally and any alternative understanding in particular were discussed during repeated meetings, and the present report is the result of this iterative process of joint analysis, writing, and discussions. In the analyses, we attempt to produce and provide an adequate account of the stu- dents’ interactions that we observed. The minimum unit of analysis that makes sense for analyzing this interaction is a pair of communicative turns. This is so because the value of an utterance in and to a conversation is tied to its social evaluation, which the listeners make available for the analysis in their own turns that follow immediately (Vološinov 1973). Thus, the nature of the unfolding social interaction can be analyzed based on the ways in which the utterances are reacted and responded to in the particular interaction. This approach does not require special interpretive methods; rather, the ana- lyst is required to hear the participants in the manner in which they hear and understand each other (Garfinkel and Sacks 1986). In our report, we make visible how the unfolding interaction can be heard, as well as the possible (general) cultural premises on which our understanding is based. In the following sections, students’ interactions in the selected episodes are analyzed in this manner to show the ways in which their everyday experiences are brought into science learning. Because the everyday understandings focused on here constitute culturally char- acteristic and interactional phenomena—a cultural historical (Bakhtin 1984), phenomeno- logical (Husserl 1976), or narrative point of view (Ricœur 1983)—they constitute cultural possibilities rather than phenomena that are specific to individual students. They are, in fact, observed across the course with several students but are highlighted in the selected episodes with particular students. Findings This study was designed to investigate how students connect their everyday forms of under- standing the world with science learning in ways that expand beyond the conceptual think- ing of both experiences and learning. The research question is investigated in a fieldwork science context in which the students could interact relatively freely with the environment and each other many times out of the earshot of the teacher. In the following three subsec- tions, we show how the students spontaneously connect the learning process with their eve- ryday experiences in ways that draw on fundamental bodily and cultural forms of relating to the world: (a) how students explore the physical environment through embodied interac- tions, (b) how grotesque and bodily humor is used to relativize the seriousness of science learning into a more relatable level, and (c) how narratives serve as a way to contextualize learning tasks within the familiar cultural resources. 1028 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 Embodied explorations of the environment Body and bodily interactions with the environment play a major role in our primary under- standing of the world and constitute the foundation of our common sense (Husserl 1976; James 1907). Accordingly, the embodied interactions are shown to be significant in stu- dents’ conceptual understanding of science, as well as in grounding learning to their per- sonal experiences (Roth and Jornet 2017). In this section, we show how both task-related and spontaneous physical interactions with the physical environment provide students with means to contextualize science learning as part of their living bodily experiences in the surrounding world. In this study, students actively interacted with the physical environment over the course of all the recorded lessons. Some of the interaction was related to and required by the tasks themselves, such as when the students were digging in the soil, moving and looking under logs while searching for invertebrates, or handling mushrooms. Conversely, some of the interactions were not directly task-related—that is, not directly needed for completing the task—but nevertheless occurred while completing the tasks. These activities were many times accompanied by discussions that made connections to everyday life outside the school and science lesson. For example, the students picked up sticks and played with them (e.g., throwing a javelin), threw around mushrooms (imagining them as being something else), kicked and hit tree trunks (practicing martial arts), and picked blueberries (as could also be done “after school”). Some of these spontaneous activities turned out to have value as explorations by means of which students gathered scientifically relevant knowledge. Whether or not the knowl- edge gained from the observations was related to the task was, therefore, unknown while it occurred. For example, after making some required observations of a particular sampling spot in the forest, the students investigated whether a spider would react to a stick touching its web. After losing the spider, which had dropped to the ground, the students spent time digging and mixing the soil, trying to find the spider and “his brother.” Moments later, the same holes that had been dug in search of the spiders were used to conduct task-related observations of the soil. The following fragment was recorded during another spontaneous bodily exploration, which began without an initially apparent purpose for science learn- ing and was later used to complete a required task. In the fragment, the group was visiting an area of investigation that had been assigned to a different group. The objective was to exchange the ideas about previously observed characteristics (such as vegetation, soil, and abiotic factors) with another group. Before the hosting group started describing its sam- pling area, the students started to discuss the possibility of felling a dead tree. 1029The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 Fragment 1a 1 John: well here’s our spot 2 Tom: no but what else (.) can you fell a tree ((pushes a dead tree with his foot)) 3 John: Jim has tried, but he couldn’t do it 4 Tom: well Jim he couldn’t cut this down for sure 5 Mark: why don’t we fell this [fuck just for fun] 6 Max: [for sure I could] fell this, but [don’t wanna now] 7 Tom: [you could fell this] 8 Tom: at the summer house, it’s fun to fell these (.) here ((unclear)) 9 Max: check this out (.) check this out ((knocks the tree with a small shovel)) (..) well it doesn’t break that [easily] ((laughter)) 10 Mark: [wait give] me that ((takes the shovel)) 11 Tom: ((leans on the tree)) no but you have to get some speed ((Max and Mark both kick the tree)) 12 John: we go to your spot (.) thank you ((the other group is leaving)) 13 Max: yeah fuck ((unclear)) 14 Tom: no but you have to wave it to the beat of the [rhythmic music] 15 Max: [no it’s not] all rotten 16 Mark: it’s not all rotten ((keeps on knocking the trunk)) (..) from up there (.) it’s much more rotten 17 Max: it’s quite tall 18 Mark: quite tall ... 24 Mark: ((knocking the tree with the shovel)) I’ve observed (..) the hardness of the tree 1030 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 At the beginning of the fragment, John introduces (as a response to a request to say something about the spot) the spot without giving any information required by the task. Tom responds with what can be heard to be some form of disagreement with John’s statement (“no, but what else”). Without waiting for elaboration, he turns his attention to a tree and raises a question about felling it. The students discuss whether it is possible to fell the tree, and Mark suggests trying it (turn 5). Tom states that fell- ing the trees is fun “at the summer cottage” (turn 8), referring to his or someone else’s experience of a similar endeavor elsewhere. The students then discuss the felling while continuing their physical explorations (turns 9–14 and onward). The tree does not fall, but the students do not appear to be too disappointed or serious about it; instead, they are laughing. Max and Mark make observations about how rotten and tall the tree is (turns 15–18). Sometime later (offprint, turn 24), Mark states explicitly that he has made an observation regarding the hardness of the tree. The pertinence of the observa- tion to their assigned task is not made apparent in that instance but comes into play a little later. Soon, the students raise the question of what they are supposed to do, and they consult the instructions and remember that they are to make observations of their areas of investi- gation. Tom asks the question about what there is, and the following discussion then takes place. Fragment 1b 72 Tom: no but the spot of your friend (.) what is there (.) dammit 73 Mark: nothing but sand (..) there’s grass (.) green 74 Max: no there’s no grass (.) there’s a lot of moss and leaves 75 Mark: say that there is lots of moss and leaves and dead trees 76 Max: yeah 77 Mark: yeah Mark responds to Tom’s question (turn 73), stating that there is nothing but sand and continuing with a description of “grass” and “green.” With the next turn, Max dis- agrees with Mark’s notion of grass, stating that that there are leaves and moss instead, which is something of a more accurate description of the vegetation and the ground texture. Mark then addresses Tom, who has previously written out the answers, repeat- ing the notion of moss and leaves, adds “dead trees.” Max and Mark later accept the expanded description (turns 76, 77). We cannot know whether the addition of “dead trees” by Mark would have been made in the absence of the earlier explorations with the dead tree and “observing the hardness.” However, the fragment shows how the physical exploration that might initially have appeared as off topic and play is con- nected to science learning a few minutes later. The scientific observation is here con- textualized in the immediately preceding bodily experiences. This is so even though 1031The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 the preceding experiences were of a non-teleological and spontaneous nature and were seemingly unrelated to science learning. However, the abstract concept denoted by the term “dead trees” is now grounded in the experience of whether a dead tree can be felled and how rotten it is when knocked with a shovel. This experiential understand- ing of the dead tree becomes the primary premises of meaning that “lie in the prescien- tific cultural world” (Husserl 1989, p. 172). Thus, when, a moment later, the students provide the concept of “dead trees” in the paper as an answer for their scientific task, the original experience is transformed to the conceptual form, and “the language is rested” on this commonsense foundation that is acquired by the bodily experimentation with nature (James 1907, p. 183). In the analyzed episode, the spontaneous bodied experimentation was initially inspired by a curiosity of knowing whether the tree could be felled. However, as was shown shortly thereafter, the activity (and later the concept of “dead trees”) was con- textualized within not only the physical surroundings but also life at the summer cot- tage, where felling trees was also “fun.” Whether it was the physical environment itself or the prior experiences related to it that inspired the bodily exploration in the first place could not be discerned from the data here nor from many of the other above- mentioned examples; they were intertwined in the manifestation of the bodily activity. Nonetheless—and whether the activities explicitly turned out to be used later in the science task—the continuous bodily experimenting functioned as a way to relate to the familiar lifeworld. Even if the prior experiences would not have been explicitly brought out, this would be the case from a more general point of view of the everyday understandings; as the intuitive and self-evident sense experiences lay the fundamental foundation for relating to the world and common sense (Husserl 1976; James 1907), the activities of bodily exploration per se constitute the familiarity of the everyday world for the students. Relativizing science learning and context through humor and the grotesque In science education, grotesque humor, exaggeration, and abasement may provide means for students to overturn the seriousness of science and thereby appropriate it into their familiar lifeworlds (Roth et  al. 2011; Weinstein and Broda 2009); humor not only functions to establish interpersonal relations but also allows students to engage with the disciplinary discourse and local norms of science (Berge 2017). In a humorous and grotesque sense of life, the material bodily principle is manifested as a reference for relating to the world and temporarily overturning the official prohibitions (Bakhtin 1984). In this subsection, we focus on the students’ articulation of the grotesque, which is often associated with bodily laughter, to show how the humorous dimension of stu- dents’ interaction has a function to connect serious science learning and the mundane perceptions of life. Humor, jokes, ridicule, and laughter in the interactions among the students were abundant during the lessons; this phenomenon was possibly enabled by the absence of the teacher from the immediate environment. There are many instances in which laughter occurred in the middle of a learning task; it arose from an observation or 1032 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 interaction with the environment or a drawn connection to some everyday phenom- enon, such as imaginary hunting or thinking about using poisonous mushrooms for the purpose of intoxication. The language and joking also had a vulgar and ridicul- ing dimension and were often linked with the lower bodily stratum. Previous Bakhtin- inspired forms of analysis showed that this kind of grotesque and bodily humor may function as a way to relativize the seriousness of the official task of learning science and allow students to temporarily contextualize the learning experience on their own terms, drawing from the experiences and lifeworlds that are meaningful to them (Roth et  al. 2011; Weinstein and Broda 2009). The following fragment shows how two instances of such humor arise in the middle of the science task and how they are used to relativize the seriousness of science. While the content of the language and some expressions can be considered offensive and disrespectful, especially due to the use of culturally taboo words related to sexual intercourse or sex organs (cf. Ljung 2011), our analysis focuses on the humorous meanings perceived and explicated by the students, as well as the functions that the grotesque and bodily humor have in the middle of the science learning task. The particular fragment was chosen for the exemplification of these functions because of the students’ particularly explicit notions of the temporality in their ability to make grotesque and offensive jokes while working out of the earshot of the teacher. A moment earlier, the students had found ants and ant eggs under the rocks. After turning another rock over, they had discovered yet more ants of a differ- ent, much bigger species than what they had found previously. After providing several notions of the size (accompanied by screaming) and placing some ants and eggs into jars (accompanied by repeated requests and encouragement from each other), the fol- lowing discussion took place. 1033The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 Fragment 2 26 Mark: those are so cool 27 Max: dammit (.) I got frightened when there were so many of those and they were so like 28 Tom: there’re so many ant eggs 29 Mark: yeah 30 Tom: let’s take a picture of that so Krista gets an orgasm . . . 36 Mark: ((to Max)) let’s take a picture of that so Krista gets an orgasm ((Jeff and Mark laugh)) 37 Max: wou 38 Mark: that was a little too much fuck ((laughter) 39 Jeff: yeah (.) Tom ((laughter)) 40 Mark: huh huh 41 Tom: I apologize ((everyone laughs)) 42 Jeff: apologize ((laughter)) (..) look they are there hiding [just watching over there] 43 Max: [well if we’re totally] honest it was quite funny really 44 Mark: well yeah ((laughter)) (.) but still it was a little too much though ((laughter)) (.) is this (.) can you lift this ((tries lifting a rock)) (..) no 45 Jeff: let’s go find more 46 Max: under the rocks 47 Jeff: ((looking into the jar)) look what this one does; it took it into the mouth 48 Mark: rocks are the way to go 49 Tom: there’s an egg (.) in its mouth 50 Mark: oh fuck ((laughter)) 51 Max: it sucks dick ((laughter)) ((in Finnish the words “egg” and “dick” are the same in this instance)) 1034 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 Mark (turn 26) and Max (turn 27) state how the ants are “cool” and that finding them was an emotionally strong experience (“got frightened”). These utterances can be seen as suggesting that the students found the situation exciting and that it aroused positive affec- tion (also implied by the earlier screaming and laugher and the later statement that the task was “fun”). After once more addressing the ant eggs (turn 28), Tom then suggests taking a picture of the ants so that their teacher “gets an orgasm.” Because in the previous lesson the students have taken pictures of identified mushrooms and sent them to the teacher for evaluation, Tom’s suggestion can be seen as implying that the picture should also be sent the picture (Tom actually takes the picture a moment later but never sends it). Mark repeats the utterance to Max (turn 36), who had been discussing something else and had not heard the original words. The reactions to Tom’s suggestion are accompanied by laughter (Jeff and Mark). Laughter is not randomly produced as an interactional resource but, like other forms of parody, can be understood as (a) a salient invitation for others to laugh and (b) as the recognition and acceptance of that invitation (Jefferson 1979). Thus, the laughter, in this instance, can be viewed as turning the suggestion into a humorous one. The “wous” and “huh huhs” can be heard as markers that something has been said unexpectedly. Mark states that what Tom said about the taboo theme related to sexual intercourse was a “little too much,” which is accompanied by laughter. Jeff then agrees with Mark’s comment about the suggestion being a “little too much,” and he also laughs. Tom then apologizes, which is responded to with laughter from the others, thereby implying that it is not being treated as serious nor as an apology. Max’s utterance (turn 45) explicates the tension between disap- proving of Tom’s suggestion and being “totally honest” and accepting of it as “quite funny really.” Mark, saying and laughing that it was “a little too much though,” also accepts the humor in the original suggestion. He then tries to lift another rock. Jeff, Max, and Mark talk about finding more ants under the rocks (turns 45, 46, and 48); they thereby exhibit focus on the task. The students observe an ant carrying an egg in its mouth, the descrip- tion of which is treated with laughter (turn 49). The students are playing with and find- ing humorous the double meaning of the Finnish word “egg.” The observation of the ant unfolds in a humorous manner (“it sucks dick”), and there is repeated laughter after the taboo words, which were once more related to sexual intercourse (cf. Ljung 2011). After this, the students continue to look for other rocks to lift. In the fragment, the students’ engagement in science and the (serious) effort to complete the task are manifested in a commitment to observe and collect ants and in the expres- sions of the positive affect (e.g., “let’s go find more,” “those are so cool”). The students work in line with the science learning goals of the lesson, recognizing different ant species and observing where they dwell and lay eggs. Simultaneously, they draw on grotesque and offensive jokes by using the words and expressions related to taboo themes that are typi- cally considered swearing (cf. Ljung 2011). The sense of taboo and disapproval was even noted by the students themselves as they at times recognized the expressions to be a “lit- tle too much” and as a reason to (ostensibly) apologize. As this study focuses on cultural ways—grotesque humor, in this instance—to make connections with learning and everyday life, it is out of our scope to examine the (youth) cultural framework behind the language and content of the jokes. What is important is that, for the students, these questionable expressions were explicitly humorous, “fun,” and accompanied by laughter and excitement. The purpose and function of grotesque humor, manifested in the jokes related to the lower bodily stratum, serve as a way for people to relativize and lower the abstract and spiritual to the material and bodily level, where the elevated and ideal (temporarily) becomes relatable and controlled by the people (Bakhtin 1984). Thus, “the essential principle of grotesque realism is degradation, that is, the lowering of all that is high, spiritual, ideal, abstract; 1035The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 it is a transfer to the material level, to the sphere of earth and body in their indissoluble unity” (pp. 19–20). Accordingly, the humor of the students and particularly its bodily and grotesque aspects contextualize their science learning experience in terms of what they can relate to and what makes sense to them in their everyday world and its material bodily level. What might otherwise be perceived as serious, official, and abstract science learning can, thus, be “degraded” through the grotesque realism of life—for instance, connecting the task content or context with taboo themes or words. The degradation and relativization, however, are neither permanent nor exclusive; they do not hamper the students’ commitment to the science task. Indeed, as the commitment to the task was simultaneously manifested in their actions and talk, the degradation is reversed and is subservient to the serious pursuit of science. This double function of the humor is denoted by the term “carnival sense.” The carnival sense of life occurs only momentarily— as in the European and Brazilian carnivals—and its “legalization was forced, incomplete, led to struggles and new prohibitions” (Bakhtin 1984, p. 90). In this study, too, the stu- dents—during and after their joking—complied with the seriousness of the task and con- tinued it (e.g., collecting invertebrates or making and writing observations). The fact that the students recognized the offensive and prohibited tones of their joking underlines how the degradation was only temporarily allowed by the absence of the teacher and thereby the official disciplinary restrictions. As the absence of the teacher allowed their joking to remain within the sphere of students’ mutual interaction, they did not directly defy the seri- ous, institutional, and authoritative dimensions of the teacher’s position (and that of sci- ence); the temporary carnival sense of the joking allowed the degradation of the authority to happen while the authority did not lose its power in a way that would have posed any actual problem in the interaction between the teacher and the students. Using narratives to frame learning Narrative is a characteristic way for humans to articulate the cultural reality and relate to it (Ricœur 1983). In contrast to the narrative mode of thinking, science and scientific knowl- edge are often perceived to represent formal and logical forms of relating to the world, abstracting, and distancing itself from everyday life and the feelings of the people (e.g., Bruner 2004). Narratives have been shown to have potential in communicating science and explaining scientific phenomenon in ways that are relatable to students (Avraamidou and Osborne 2009). In this section, we show how students spontaneously draw on the narrative mode of thought at multiple levels to connect the science learning tasks with their every- day lives; they draw from cultural narratives from their out-of-school lives to contextualize the learning tasks and frame their own activities as a narrative of which they are part. The narrative mode of thought appeared on multiple levels of the students’ interac- tion. First, students repeatedly invoked narrative elements when describing their actions, observations, or experiences during the tasks; these were either related or not related to the completion of the task. For example, (a) when encountering a dead bird, the students referred to an imagined fight between a bigger and a smaller bird; (b) when finding poison- ous mushrooms, reference was made to an assumed story of foolish people using them for intoxicating purposes; or (c) while trying to see whether a spider reacted to the touch of the web with a stick, a parallel story was told about humans having to cope with someone destroying their homes. The students also connected their experiences of being in the par- ticular environment (i.e., the forest) in terms of their pastime experiences with narrative dimensions, such as perceiving a place as being good for “having a break and enjoying a 1036 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 cup of coffee,” “going downhill on a sled,” or “playing airsoft [a team shooting sport com- parable to paintball],” or in terms of supposedly imaginary experiences, such as “hunting with arrows because of the absence of arrow-damaging rocks.” Whereas the above-exemplified students’ accounts of their surroundings and references to everyday experiences contained narrative elements (such as sequential events, agency, or purpose) or referred to everyday narratives, they cannot be defined as complete narratives per se (cf. Norris, Guilbert, Smith, Hakimelahi, and Phillips 2005). However, the students also used the narrative mode on a more direct level by contextualizing a science learn- ing task in some narratives. The students accomplished the narrativization by positioning themselves in a part of the story, the structure of which was derived from both the task and stories from their everyday culture. For example, when they were finding mushrooms or invertebrates during different lessons in the forest, the students referred to a Pokémon mobile game—very popular at the time in Finland—in a way that paralleled their science learning task with playing the game. The discourse of finding very rare Pokémon in the game was used when students were finding some specimen, and they were thereby contex- tualizing the task in terms of the familiar game from their everyday lives. The following fragment exemplifies instances in which tasks were connected to everyday life in narrative form. The fragment starts in the middle of the bug-finding task, as Max starts to speak English while the group is heading toward a big rock, where the members hope to find invertebrates. Fragment 3 (the underlined phrases were originally uttered in English instead of Finnish) 5 Max: and so we continue [our trip] 6 Jeff: [argh my leg] ((stumbles)) 7 Mark: [and (.) so are we trying to find something to eat yet? [unclear] ((laughter)) 8 Max: And we have been in the woods for two hours (.) and I’m going to drink my own piss 9 Mark: I have to find a (.) what what was it (.) I should find a (.) fuck I can’t remember that one word fuck that he always says (..)reliable water source 10 Max: ((laughter)) yeah 11 Mark: ((laughter)) fuck he’s such a slaggy guy ... 14 Mark: we have to find something to eat so we can survive ... 26 Mark: yeah (..) some Bear Grylls wouldn’t make it (.) Bear Grylls would make it in every place (.) but fuck he wouldn’t make it in Finland 1037The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 In turn 5, Max uses English in the middle of the otherwise Finnish dialogue (with the exception of a few single English words, such as “very rare,” referring to the Pokémon game). As Mark also continues in English, using the same person and structure as Max (“and so we’re…”), it sounds as if he picked up something that he had heard and expanded it. Referring to trying to find something to eat conflicts with what the students are really trying but is not explained explicitly by Mark. Mark’s laughter can be heard as if Max’s utterance in English had been an invitation to laugh or a joke that is now responded to and expanded by Mark. Max’s utterance (still in English) about being in the woods for two hours can then be heard as a further expansion of dialogue that now appears to have taken an imaginary sense. Like Mark’s reference to finding food, Max’s statement regarding two hours does not depict the real situation, as the students have been in the forest for no more than 10  min. Mark (turn 9) articulates the need to find a reliable water source, formulat- ing in Finnish that he was looking for the English word, before completing the phrase. In the Finnish part of the utterance, a reference to an external person (“he”) can be heard and is repeated soon thereafter (turn 11). Max’s and Mark’s laughter (turns 10 and 11) allow the noticing of the descriptions of the (at least somewhat) imaginary situation as both accepted by other students and humorous. Soon, Mark (turn 14) further expands the depic- tion by stating that finding something to eat is necessary for their survival. None of the stu- dents treated the story as unreal, as if they shared a common understanding within which “finding something to eat” or “drinking my own piss” make (humorous) sense. Where this understanding derives from is referred to as “he” (turns 9 and 11) and is indicated explic- itly a moment later when Mark states that Bear Grylls (a British adventurer known for his survival TV series) would presumably survive anywhere but “wouldn’t make it in Finland.” The particular interactional resource shared by the students to enable them to understand each other with regard to “survival” in the woods reveals their common familiarity with the adventurer and television presenter. The students talk about the television presenter in English and in ways that can be deemed as imitating him, at times even using a British/Irish accent. The students thereby refer to the narrative of survival that Bear Grylls has presented in his popular series. They produce parallels with their task of finding bugs for science learning and the task of sur- vival “in the woods,” which would be the content of the TV series. After the narrative has been established (Fragment 1), the students—mostly Mark and Max but occasionally joined by the others as well—continue to narrate the story on several occasions both when finding bugs and moving through the forest (e.g., “finding protein” or “finding shelter”), or they comment on how the things that Bear Grylls (more or less authentically) does com- pare to surviving in the Finnish woods (e.g., “hunting brown hears bare handed”). Through the imagination of their story, the task of science learning is contextualized narratively in a form and content that students are familiar with from their everyday lives. However, the students also separate and distance the actual learning task and their being in the forest from the popular culture survival narrative. The students criticize the authenticity and cred- ibility of some of Bear Gryll’s adventures (e.g., whether he really slept inside a dead camel and whether the fact that he found some food had been prearranged), and by making com- parisons with their current surroundings, they communicate the perception that what they are currently experiencing might be more authentic than what is shown on the television, despite all the similarities with their narrated story. All the while maintaining the survival narrative, the students complete their task of observing, finding, and identifying invertebrates. The following fragment shows how 1038 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 the survival narrative, now arising from an encounter with a muddy spot along the path, instantly changes into task-related talk. Fragment 4 49 Mark: holy shit (.) if you fall down you’ll get boots of [shit] 50 Max: [you'll get AIDS if you fall down there ((laughter)) 51 Mark: ((laughter)) it’s very contagious (.) you’ll get AIDS and ten unknown STDs (.) ((bends over toward a mushroom)) do we accept mushrooms? No we don’t Mark and Max are crossing the muddy spot, walking along the logs (“this dangerous bridge”), while Tom and Jeff are going around the mud (“too far away” for Mark and Max). Mark describes the risk of falling down as getting “boots of shit,” to which Max adds getting “AIDS.” Max’s laughter can be heard as an invitation to hear the utterance as a joke. This is accepted by Mark in his next turn, as evidenced by his laughter, repetition, and the addition of “ten unknown STDs” (the function of grotesque humor and exaggeration in contextualizing the science learning was addressed in more detail in the previous subsection). The narrative stops when Mark notices a mushroom that Max has already bent over to observe (offprint, turn 51) and addresses it with a task-related question for which he also immediately provides the answer (“Do we accept mushrooms? No, we don’t”). The narrative is discontinued for a moment, as Mark goes to see whether Tom has caught any bugs with his net tool. They find a spider. The previous examples show how the narrative contextualization of the learning task was temporarily integrated into the completion of the learning tasks. The inspiration for the nar- rative contextualization derived from the structure of the task, from the physical environment or the familiar cultural resources, or from all of them at the same time. In any case, it is the student who spontaneously draws on the narrative form despite any explicit requirement to do so. The narratives were not especially used to communicate science nor scientific concepts, as was suggested would be useful in science teaching (Avraamidou and Osborne 2009; Bruner 2004). Instead, the function of narratives was to connect the process of learning to everyday life: the use of narratives or narrative elements allowed students to interpret and constitute the science learning task as included in the cultural community of the students (Ricœur 1991). The paradigmatic mode of thought was represented by the scientific knowledge related to the completion of the tasks (Bruner 1986). However, the paradigmatic and narrative modes did not appear to exclude one another, but they coexisted temporarily as the students spontane- ously contextualized the tasks within the narratives of the familiar lifeworld. 1039The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 Discussion This study was designed to investigate the ways in which students connect in non-con- ceptual ways the experiences of their everyday world with science learning. Whereas the gap between everyday experiences and the presentation of (school) science has been rec- ognized as a major problem disconnecting and alienating students from science and sci- entific careers (e.g., Barmby et  al. 2008), science education research has approached this gap largely as a challenge arising in the learning of certain science concepts (e.g., Lidar et al. 2009). The present study examines culturally possible and intelligible ways in which students actually connect science learning processes to their everyday understandings. They do so by making connections that parallel those of a purely logical-conceptual nature. Using these non-conceptual means, the students draw on their familiar, fundamental bodily and cultural ways of relating to the world, and while completing their science tasks at the same time, they thereby contextualize science learning within their encompassing everyday understandings. Our findings exemplify three specific forms of connections made with and related to the everyday world: (a) the bodily exploration of the physical environment; (b) grotesque, bod- ily humor as a way to temporarily overturn the seriousness of science learning; and (c) the contextualization of learning through narratives. Common to all of these forms is that each constitutes a fundamental mode of relating to and being rooted in the commonsense world. The premises of all understanding are of an experiential and bodily kind (Husserl 1989; James 1907), the authoritative and institutional cultural structures are relativized through referring them back to the material bodily principle that is manifested in the humorous and grotesque sense of life (Bakhtin 1984), and everyday cultural life is primarily represented and interpreted in narrative form (Bruner 1986; Ricœur 1983). According to our findings, the bodily explorations, the material bodily principal mani- fested in the grotesque humor, and the narrative mode of thought connected students’ scientific activities with everyday experiences on two levels: (a) the modes of relating to the environment, as well as contextualizing and interpreting the interactional situations in themselves, represented a fundamentally familiar, intuitive, and everyday way for students to position themselves in the world, and (b) the content of these connections—that is, the objects of the embodied experiments or the topics of the jokes of narratives—were derived from or inspired by both the scientific tasks in question and everyday cultural resources. This two-leveled nature of their evolving connections means that even if the content of the above-described forms of students’ interaction would not have explicitly connected the everyday experiences with abstract science knowledge, these forms of interaction per se can support the connection with the fundamental everyday understandings, all the while participating in the science learning activity and repeatedly returning to the scientific task. Conversely, the same fundamental forms of relating to the world may also provide students with explicit possibilities to connect the conceptual (and procedural—e.g., making scien- tific observations) goals of the learning tasks with their familiar cultural resources and life- world. At times, these spontaneous ways of connecting also led to knowledge that was used explicitly in completing the current task (e.g., see Fragment 1). This merely shows that the knowledge acquired during the spontaneous activities that were seemingly unrelated to the current task could turn into meaningful knowledge not only in terms of connecting the everyday world with the world of science but also in terms of increased scientific under- standing. This non-teleological direction of attaining new knowledge characterizes how primal experiences shape our understanding of the world and how scientific knowledge 1040 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 is layered and developed based on previous experiences (Husserl 1989). Accordingly, the non-teleological approach to science education foregrounds the students’ possibilities of reliving the primal premises of historically formed abstract scientific idealizations (Roth 2015). The findings of this study exemplify how activities such as the spontaneous physical exploration of the environment (or other artifacts) may constitute fertile ground for subse- quent scientific understandings although the activities themselves may initially appear to be off topic. In science education, the bodily and affective dimensions of experiences are recognized as a significant part of learning (e.g., Roth and van Eijk 2010). Similarly, humor (Roth et al. 2011) and the grotesque (Weinstein and Broda 2009), as well as narratives (Avraamidou and Osborne 2009), have been acknowledged to be contributing aspects of science com- munication that are useful in instructional approaches. This study suggests that the non- intellectual dimensions may provide the means for students to make connections between their everyday sense of how the world works and the content of science even spontaneously without particular instructional encouragement. Accordingly, the findings show how these fundamental and primal forms of everyday understanding are used by students to spontane- ously create third spaces in which the familiar cultural funds and scientific discourse (in the form of completing the task) converge in dialogic and meaningful ways (cf. Gutiérrez et al. 1999). Instructional approaches that are aimed at meaningful third spaces might benefit from not only acknowledging students’ tendencies to make these non-cognitive connec- tions but also providing possibilities for students to experiment freely with their diverse cultural resources during science tasks. It is worth noting that the students’ ways of contextualizing the learning activities through their everyday understandings did not always explicitly lead to those (canonical ones) promoted in science teaching. As one main goal of science education is learning science concepts and scientific ways of thinking, one could ask whether the demonstrated connections with fundamental everyday ways of understanding actually promote the learn- ing of intellectual and conceptual content. However, the actual support for learning may lie elsewhere: The affective and bodily primal experience of the phenomena constitutes the fundamental premises for learning about it (Husserl  1989; Roth  2015). Thus, making an emotional–affective (bodily) engagement is a first step toward the motivated intellectual engagement, and supporting students as they make connections to their everyday experi- ences can also facilitate conceptual learning. In this study, it was the students themselves who chose how and when to draw on their everyday lives and the ways of understanding it. Both the connections with everyday life and the possibility of choices can be valuable fac- tors in mitigating the alienating dimension of school science and providing possibilities for students to experience science learning in meaningful ways (cf. Bamberger and Tal 2006). In this study, the students worked in an outdoor environment and generally out of the earshot of the teacher. The students repeatedly reported that the relatively distant recording had no effect on their interaction. Either way, the study focuses on cultural and interac- tional possibilities for students to use their everyday understandings of the world—not on the underlying reasons for these activities specific to the individuals. Whatever the indi- vidual reasons may be, the ways in which they are acted out in the interaction are primarily sociocultural and, thus, transcend the individual. We are reporting on cultural patterns that inherently transcend individual characteristics, which is a fact that also pertains to concep- tual talk in and about science (Roth 2008). Whereas outdoor environments per se can offer particular potential for students’ own explorations and meaningful interaction with a sense of freedom (Tal, Lavie Alon, and Morag 2014), in this study, the environment most impor- tantly allowed the particular phenomena to become visible, thereby enabling them to be 1041The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 studied. However, the findings of the study are not limited to any particular setting. There are frequent suggestions in the literature advocating the use of instructional approaches that emphasize student-led activities, inquiries, and students’ curiosity (e.g., Wu, Kuo, Wu, Jen, and Hsu 2018). Science inquiries allow students to interact bodily with the environment; likewise, the opportunities for social interaction, including joking and drawing on stories, are likely to increase when students are given more choice over the activities. Whereas the particular instructional approaches that promote bodily exploration, narratives, and the use of humor can certainly be valuable in supporting meaningful connections with everyday experiences, the findings of this study show that students also spontaneously draw on their cultural and bodily resources to make such connections, at least during openly structured science tasks. Some of the observed joking and grotesque humor—as well as some narratives and bodily explorations—were such that they would likely not be possible in the direct pres- ence of the teacher. For example, the expressions that related to culturally taboo themes about sexual organs or sexual intercourse are typically considered as swearing, which is restricted in society (Ljung 2011). At least in the classroom, some of the language that the students used would be chastised as off-topic activities or might trigger disciplinary action. It may be argued that the absence of the teacher afforded, for example, the grotesque humor to be used to relativize and overturn the seriousness of science learning. In this particular outdoor setting, the teacher was aware of the students’ possible off-topic activities but rec- ognized them as a potentially valuable positive experience of science learning and nature environment, while some structural and pedagogical choices allowed the general focus to remain on the tasks (Kervinen et al. 2018). However, similar possibilities for communica- tion out of the earshot of the teacher arise in classrooms. One study showed that solely the placement of the teacher considerably influences the discourses in different locations in the classroom (Roth, McGinn, Woszczyna, and Boutonne 1999), and teachers are not generally aware of the conversational topics, which may not only be off topic but may also go as far as accusing peers of racism (e.g., Roth 2009). While we do not want to endorse the use of offensive language or jokes, this study accordingly shows that students can, for example, use questionable humor in their communication while working out of the earshot of the teacher. However, the findings of this study show that some of the activities that might be typically considered as off topic or even objectionable—but that can be abundant in the reality of classroom interactions—may have a function for students in connecting the learning activity with their everyday lifeworld in meaningful ways. Moreover, just like the carnival sense of life functioned as a temporal liberation from the official seriousness and limitations during medieval times (Bakhtin 1984), the students in this study continued with or returned to their original science task despite the temporal absence from or debasement of official science. In the sense that, for example, the grotesque joking functioned as a way to contextualize the task within everyday out-of-school life experiences, it had a double function: While humor overturned the seriousness of the science task, it simultaneously allowed the task to be relativized in a meaningful way and to be (seriously) continued (cf. Roth et al. 2011). In this study, we analyzed materials gathered from a group of students who were not particularly interested in science. The phenomena we describe concerning the ways of making connections between science and everyday experiences may be particularly impor- tant to and more frequently observed in student groups with an academic focus. However, in other reported cases, the students were attending an academically oriented private school and subsequently went to study in STEM fields at the university level (Roth 2009). Future studies investigating the prevalence of the phenomena that we describe here may suggest 1042 A. Kervinen et al. 1 3 that they occur more frequently among those who are traditionally less interested and lower-achieving in science. It would then be particularly important to concentrate on ways for less science-oriented (or school-oriented) students to make affectively meaningful con- nections between what is familiar to them and what they experience during science tasks. Acknowledgements Open access funding provided by University of Helsinki including Helsinki University Central Hospital. Open Access This article is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License, which permits use, sharing, adaptation, distribution and reproduction in any medium or format, as long as you give appropriate credit to the original author(s) and the source, provide a link to the Creative Com- mons licence, and indicate if changes were made. The images or other third party material in this article are included in the article’s Creative Commons licence, unless indicated otherwise in a credit line to the material. If material is not included in the article’s Creative Commons licence and your intended use is not permitted by statutory regulation or exceeds the permitted use, you will need to obtain permission directly from the copyright holder. To view a copy of this licence, visit http://creat iveco mmons .org/licen ses/by/4.0/. 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Publisher’s Note Springer Nature remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps and institutional affiliations. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.edurev.2007.10.002 https://doi.org/10.1007/s11422-012-9473-4 https://doi.org/10.1007/s11422-014-9606-z https://doi.org/10.1007/s11422-014-9606-z https://doi.org/10.1002/sce.21085 https://doi.org/10.1002/sce.21085 https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-319-39868-6 https://doi.org/10.1207/s15327809jls0803&4_1 https://doi.org/10.1207/s15327809jls0803&4_1 https://doi.org/10.1002/tea.20412 https://doi.org/10.1002/sce.20401 https://doi.org/10.1002/tea.21137 https://doi.org/10.1002/sce.21037 https://doi.org/10.1080/00219266.2006.9656029 https://doi.org/10.1080/00219266.2006.9656029 https://doi.org/10.1002/tea.20422 https://doi.org/10.1002/sce.20024 https://doi.org/10.1007/s11422-009-9186-5 https://doi.org/10.1002/sce.21456 https://doi.org/10.1002/sce.21456 1045The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning… 1 3 Anttoni Kervinen is a doctoral student in the Faculty of Educational Sciences in the University of Helsinki. He has master’s degree in biology education. His research focuses on teaching and learning biology in out- door settings and teacher professional development in science teaching. Wolff‑Michael Roth is Lansdowne Professor of Applied Cognitive Science. His research focuses on know- ing and learning across the lifespan in formal and informal learning environments (e.g. workplace, activ- ism). The work is transdisciplinary and is published outlets of very different scholarly communities. His recent work includes the books Transactional Psychology of Education: Toward a Strong Version of the Social (2019), Dwelling, Building, Thinking: A Post-Constructivist Perspective on Education, Learning, and Development (2018), and, with A. Jornet, Understanding Educational Psychology: A Late Vygotskian, Spinozist Approach (2017). Kalle Juuti is Associate Professor of Digital Learning at Schools. He was science teacher educator over decade and he was a vice leader of class teacher education programme and subject teacher education pro- gramme. His research interests are student engagement in science, digital tools in science teaching and learning, education for sustainability, and teachers’ professional learning. Anna Uitto is Professor in Biology Education in the Faculty of Educational Sciences in the University of Helsinki, Finland. Her research interest include conceptual understanding and inquiry-based approach in biology education, outdoor and biodiversity education, socio-scientific issues and education for sustainable developent, especially in primary and secondary education and in teacher education. The resurgence of everyday experiences in school science learning activities Abstract Theoretical background Science education and students’ everyday understandings Philosophical frameworks for the integration of science into everyday world Methods Participants Data collection and analysis Findings Embodied explorations of the environment Relativizing science learning and context through humor and the grotesque Using narratives to frame learning Discussion Acknowledgements References 
work_avergtn2kzg2hkqvfm6xfh5miy	----	Carpe Diem: Love, Resistance to Authority, and the Necessity of Choice in Andrew Marvell and Elizabeth Cary humanities Article Carpe Diem: Love, Resistance to Authority, and the Necessity of Choice in Andrew Marvell and Elizabeth Cary Michael Bryson ID Department of English, California State University, Northridge, Northridge, CA 91330, USA; michael.bryson@csun.edu Received: 13 April 2018; Accepted: 11 June 2018; Published: 14 June 2018 ���������� ������� Abstract: The theme of love as resistance to authority is the centerpiece of a two-millennia-long tradition in Western poetry known as carpe diem (a phrase credited to the Latin poet Horace). This essay begins by analyzing one of the most famous later examples of carpe diem in English poetry (Andrew Marvell’s 1681 “To His Coy Mistress”), emphasizing the carpe diem ethos’ potential to illustrate both the consequences and the necessity of individual erotic choice—especially female choice—in defiance of authority. It then uses carpe diem’s anti-authoritarian perspective to understand the contrast between the ambivalence of Mariam—torn between a tepid disobedience and regretful loyalty to her husband Herod—and the wholly defiant choices of Salome in Elizabeth Cary’s earlier drama, The Tragedy of Mariam from 1613. Keywords: love; choice; carpe diem; resistance; authority; poetry 1. Introduction Carpe diem poetry, a tradition dating back to the Augustan era in Rome, presents a worldview that seems filled with a sense of the fragility and shortness of life; but at its essence, it is concerned with individual choice in a world that often attempts to circumscribe, or even eliminate, the possibility of such choice. It takes its name from a phrase by the “Latin poet Horace, who in Ode, I. xi, tells his mistress that [...] life is short, so they must ‘enjoy the day,’ for they do not know if there will be a tomorrow” (Glancy 2002, p. 43). Horace lives and works in an increasingly authoritarian Rome in which the passing of such laws as the Lex Iulia de Maritandis Ordinibus and the Lex Iulia de Adulteriis Coercendis (of 18 and 17 BCE) represented an ongoing attempt to use the power of government to “reform Roman private morality.”1 In such an environment, Horace’s line, “carpe diem quam minimum credula postero” (Horace 1998, p. 39)—“Seize the day, trusting as little in the next as possible”2—has a political resonance, as it tells Leuconoe, and all who have followed since, to live now, and love now, despite the demands of authority, because each second of scruple, doubt, and delay brings men and women closer to a death that is non-negotiable, non-delayable, and everlasting. The carpe diem ethos informs works as diverse as the fourth-century (CE) Latin poetry of Ausonius,3 to the troubadour poems of the eleventh and twelfth centuries, to the plays of Shakespeare and the poetry of John Donne and Robert Herrick. It appears, perhaps most powerfully and famously in Andrew Marvell’s 1681 1 These laws proscribed class intermarriage, and fornication/adultery respectively (Davis 1999, p. 435). 2 All translations in this essay are my own. 3 The final two lines of “Ad Uxorem” beautifully capture the idea of living for now: “nos ignoremus quid sit matura senectus: /scire aevi meritum, non numerare decet” [let us be ignorant of maturity and age, /and know Time’s worth, not count its years]. “Ad Uxorem”, Epigram 20. (Ausonius 2001, p. 45) Humanities 2018, 7, 61; doi:10.3390/h7020061 www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities http://www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities http://www.mdpi.com https://orcid.org/0000-0003-3383-8101 http://www.mdpi.com/2076-0787/7/2/61?type=check_update&version=1 http://dx.doi.org/10.3390/h7020061 http://www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities Humanities 2018, 7, 61 2 of 17 poem, “To His Coy Mistress,”4 where the idea of death becomes life’s and love’s greatest ally in the battle against the demands of authority, convention, and law. No less powerfully, if less famously, carpe diem plays a central role in Elizabeth Cary’s 1613 drama, The Tragedy of Mariam, in the context of a radical assertion of female freedom that insists on the necessity of choice in love and desire as resistance to authority. Reading each work in relation to the other, even through the other, can give us very different perspectives than we might otherwise have.5 Despite its later composition, Marvell’s invocation of the long-established ideas of carpe diem poetry can show us something of the temporal urgency Salome faces in her decision to leave her husband for another man, and can further illustrate the trap Mariam finds herself in, unable to choose her own desires. Cary’s earlier dramatization of the choices both made and not made by her characters can help us envision the less playful side, even the life-and-death gravity, of the choice posed to the “Coy Mistress” of Marvell’s poem. Though Cary could not have read “To His Coy Mistress,” and Marvell was likely not consulting the text of The Tragedy of Mariam when writing his poem, each work stands—as does the carpe diem ethos itself—in defiance, but also in hope, insisting together, across the years that separate them from each other, and from us, that readers face the necessity of choice. 2. A Fine and Private Place: Andrew Marvell and His Coy Mistress Perhaps after Robert Herrick’s “Gather ye rosebuds while ye may,” the single line of carpe diem poetry most recognizable to English language readers is “If we had but world enough and time.” It is a line, like “To be or not to be, that is the question,” or “Better to reign in hell than serve in heaven,” that elicits a shock of recognition, each line an example of that “work of genius” Emerson describes, in which “we recognize our own rejected thoughts” coming back to us “with a certain alienated majesty” (Emerson 2002, p. 175). We know, all of us at some level, that we have neither world enough nor time, despite the countless tasks with which we busy ourselves, the deadlines at work, the striving for success, the pursuits of love or knowledge (for academics, that latest paper that must be written), all of the hundreds and thousands of little ways we distract ourselves from the onrush of our mortality. Still, we know, and a line like that which opens Andrew Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress” brings that knowledge right up close, forcing us to pay attention. We all have our coynesses, our defensive refusals to deal with the reality of the absurd and ultimately fatal disease from which all of us suffer; we wish to think (or more precisely “not-think”) that we have, if not endless tomorrows, at least so many as allow us to indulge in the time-wasting and death-hastening scruples of our island and tribe and time6, throwing off until tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow the choices necessary to live as fully as possible in worlds that will, if we let them, lead us like fools to dusty death, worlds that would deny us the chance ever to discover who we really were, and who we might have become. This perhaps most powerful of all the English carpe diem poems, reminds its readers that it is a kind of crime to be quite so coy in the face of the fine and private place to which we are all bound. Marvell himself was a complicated man, one whom Nigel Smith has recently described as “a poet who denied [...] poetic egotism by a form of studied imitation” through which, as in the present poem, he often exceeded his models (Smith 2010, p. 9). On the other hand, Marvell was also possessed of 4 Published in 1681, though written perhaps as early as 1652 (Smith 2010, p. 37). 5 Though some readers might find it odd to read a literary work through the perspective of a later literary work, fewer seem to object to reading a literary work through the perspective of a later theoretical text. In neither case is the direct influence of the later text on the earlier one being argued for, nor could it be. In both cases, what is crucial is the perspective the pairing gives the reader in his or her encounter with each text. 6 We often have an unfortunate tendency toward “presentism,” the assumption that the ways of our now are always superior to the ways of any given then. But as Robert Musil reminds us, our nows and thens are merely accidents: “die Gegenwart sieht stolz auf die Vergangenheit herab, und wenn die Vergangenheit zufällig später gekommen wäre, so würde sie stolz auf die Gegenwart herabsehen” (Musil 1957, p. 469) [the Present looks proudly down upon the Past, and if the Past had chanced to come later, it would look proudly down upon the Present]. Humanities 2018, 7, 61 3 of 17 “a very hot temper” and seems to have been a man “who did not suffer fools gladly [...] and reacted with excessive violence or agitation when frustrated. Contemporaries, albeit hostile critics, saw a man with a sneer. He enjoyed snide laughter at those who deserved to be treated with contempt” (Smith 2010, p. 9). Yet Marvell was also “the most effective political and religious satirist of his day, one of the greatest lyrical and political poets in the English language, and in his time, one of the most advanced thinkers in respect of toleration and free thinking” (Smith 2010, p. 11), and this in an especially authoritarian and unstable mid-seventeenth century in England. The poet, the politician, the man, was (and is) not easy to pin down, not easy to pack tidily away onto one’s ideological shelves. As complicated as the man could be, his poetry is perhaps even more complicated, often at odds with itself, moving from voice to contradictory voice with the ease of an observer whose point of view allows him to see all sides of a question at once—as can be seen, for instance, in the Mower poems, which Linda Anderson has described in terms of their split point of view: all four poems [present] a single individual who defines himself in a special relationship with nature while at the same time hinting that the reader should question that definition. For while the Mower defines himself as a demigodlike figure in an unfallen Eden, Marvell presents him as a childlike figure, unable or unwilling to distinguish between his own desires and reality. (Anderson 1991, p. 131) This ability to shade perspectives to the point that two different points of view seem possible, even though one standpoint seems the one common sense would have us choose, is evident in “To His Coy Mistress.” The speaker of this poem, like Marvell’s Mower, “uses his considerable mental powers to recreate an unsatisfactory natural world” (Anderson 1991, p. 131), but the power and urgency with which he expresses his desire and frustration has left some readers, like Nigel Smith, wondering if the poem is “almost [...] self-parodic” (Smith 2010, p. 103), while other readers like Joseph Moldenhauer, have described “To His Coy Mistress” as a work that walks a fine line between seriousness and comedy: “for all its seriousness it is a comic poem, while for all its levity it is deeply serious” (Moldenhauer 1968, p. 205). Marvell’s first stanza captures that blend of seriousness and (exaggerated, though purposeful) humor: Had we but world enough, and time, This coyness, lady, were no crime. We would sit down, and think which way To walk, and pass our long love’s day. Thou by the Indian Ganges’ side Shouldst rubies find: I by the tide Of Humber would complain. I would Love you ten years before the flood: And you should, if you please, refuse Till the conversion of the Jews. My vegetable love should grow Vaster than empires, and more slow. An hundred years should go to praise Thine eyes, and on thy forehead gaze. Two hundred to adore each breast: But thirty thousand to the rest. An age at least to every part, And the last age should show your heart. For Lady you deserve this state; Nor would I love at lower rate. (Marvell 2003, pp. 81–82, ll. 1–20) Humanities 2018, 7, 61 4 of 17 The obvious purpose for the speaker in these lines is to overcome the “coyness” of the lady. As Moldenhauer observes, “the poem presents a distinct dramatic and rhetorical situation. Its central agon pits the speaker’s desire for erotic fulfillment against the hesitancy of his lady” (Moldenhauer 1968, p. 193). Thus, the conceit behind the first line—as most readers seem almost instinctively to recognize—is that we do not have world enough and time, if “world enough” is conceived as a space “Vaster than empires” and time enough is defined as the hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of years the first stanza describes. If we had such vast stretches of world and time, the speaker argues, then the lady’s coyness, her noncommittal delay, would be just fine (though one senses that it really wouldn’t be fine with the speaker, but at least there would be sufficient time to praise and persuade). In a situation of endless time and space, the speaker and his lady could wander the world separately, she by the exotic Ganges river in India, while he was stuck with the rather more prosaic Humber river in England. He can even imagine stretching time backward and forward, so elastic, relaxed, and unurgent is the quality of time within a span of all-but-eternity. His love for her could then be extended back into the ancient past (“ten years before the flood”) and off into the unchartable future (in which case she could “refuse/Till the conversion of the Jews”—an event, that as Nigel Smith points out, was associated in the mid-seventeenth century with the millennium to come after the end of the world (Smith 2010, pp. 104–5). With such temporal plenitude on their hands, the speaker could (or so he claims) spend “An hundred years” on praising the lady’s eyes (though it seems that fifty years per eye would eventually leave even so poetic a speaker as Marvell’s at a loss for words, and both he and his lady suffering from a massive case of boredom). Even more spectacularly (or horrifyingly, depending on your point of view), the speaker claims that he would spend two hundred years praising each of his lady’s breasts, and thirty thousand years on the unspecified “rest” (undoubtedly including the very regions he hopes to have access to at some point before the end of the world). But—and a sensitive reader has been waiting for that shoe to drop since the very first line—we do not have eternity, and we do not have “the world” as Shakespeare’s Richard III says, “to bustle in” (Richard III, 1.1.160.).7 Life is short, and with each year, each day, each breath, death is closer than ever before: But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found; Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song: then worms shall try That long-preserved virginity: And your quaint honour turn to dust; And into ashes all my lust. The grave’s a fine and private place, But none I think do there embrace. (Marvell 2003, pp. 82–83, ll. 21–32) Time is both relentless and violent—the “wingèd chariot” references the Merkabah, the winged chariot-throne of Yahweh from Ezekiel chapter 1, and the chariot with which the sun-god Apollo drags the sun across the sky, as well as the familiar battle chariots of the Biblical Egyptians and Philistines, and even the anger of Yahweh against his own people: 7 Quotations from the plays are from (Shakespeare 2002). Humanities 2018, 7, 61 5 of 17 8: Humanities 2018, 7, x FOR PEER REVIEW 4 of 17 The obvious purpose for the speaker in these lines is to overcome the “coyness” of the lady. As Moldenhauer observes, “the poem presents a distinct dramatic and rhetorical situation. Its central agon pits the speaker’s desire for erotic fulfillment against the hesitancy of his lady” (Moldenhauer 1968, p. 193). Thus, the conceit behind the first line—as most readers seem almost instinctively to recognize—is that we do not have world enough and time, if “world enough” is conceived as a space “Vaster than empires” and time enough is defined as the hundreds, thousands, even tens of thousands of years the first stanza describes. If we had such vast stretches of world and time, the speaker argues, then the lady’s coyness, her noncommittal delay, would be just fine (though one senses that it really wouldn’t be fine with the speaker, but at least there would be sufficient time to praise and persuade). In a situation of endless time and space, the speaker and his lady could wander the world separately, she by the exotic Ganges river in India, while he was stuck with the rather more prosaic Humber river in England. He can even imagine stretching time backward and forward, so elastic, relaxed, and unurgent is the quality of time within a span of all-but-eternity. His love for her could then be extended back into the ancient past (“ten years before the flood”) and off into the unchartable future (in which case she could “refuse/Till the conversion of the Jews”—an event, that as Nigel Smith points out, was associated in the mid-seventeenth century with the millennium to come after the end of the world (Smith 2010, pp. 104–5). With such temporal plenitude on their hands, the speaker could (or so he claims) spend “An hundred years” on praising the lady’s eyes (though it seems that fifty years per eye would eventually leave even so poetic a speaker as Marvell’s at a loss for words, and both he and his lady suffering from a massive case of boredom). Even more spectacularly (or horrifyingly, depending on your point of view), the speaker claims that he would spend two hundred years praising each of his lady’s breasts, and thirty thousand years on the unspecified “rest” (undoubtedly including the very regions he hopes to have access to at some point before the end of the world). But—and a sensitive reader has been waiting for that shoe to drop since the very first line—we do not have eternity, and we do not have “the world” as Shakespeare’s Richard III says, “to bustle in” (Richard III, 1.1.160.).7 Life is short, and with each year, each day, each breath, death is closer than ever before: But at my back I always hear Time’s wingèd chariot hurrying near; And yonder all before us lie Deserts of vast eternity. Thy beauty shall no more be found; Nor, in thy marble vault, shall sound My echoing song: then worms shall try That long-preserved virginity: And your quaint honour turn to dust; And into ashes all my lust. The grave’s a fine and private place, But none I think do there embrace. (Marvell 2003, pp. 82–83, ll. 21–32) Time is both relentless and violent—the “wingèd chariot” references the Merkabah, the winged chariot-throne of Yahweh from Ezekiel chapter 1, and the chariot with which the sun-god Apollo drags the sun across the sky, as well as the familiar battle chariots of the Biblical Egyptians and Philistines, and even the anger of Yahweh against his own people: יב ְּבֵחָמ֙ה ַאּ֔פֹו ְוגֲַעָר֖תֹו ְּבַלֲהֵבי־ ֵאֽׁש׃ ִּכֽי־ ִהֵּנ֤ה יְהָו֙ה יו ְלָהִׁש֤ 8ָּבֵאׁ֣ש יָ֔בֹוא ְוַכּסּוָפ֖ה ַמְרְּכבָֹת֑ 7 Quotations from the plays are from (Shakespeare 2002). 8 Isaiah 66:15. Biblical text is quoted from Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia (Rudolph and Elliger 1983). For behold, Yahweh will come in fire, like a raging storm with his chariots, to render with fury his anger and his rebuke in flames of fire. Once that chariot catches up with us, the speaker says, all that waits for us is the nothing and never of King Lear, the “Deserts of vast eternity.” And despite the claims of a poem like Shakespeare’s sonnet 15, in which the poet fights a “war with Time” (line 13) to preserve the beauty of the young man being addressed, Marvell’s poem will promise no such warfare and no such preservation: “Thy beauty shall no more be found,” either in the world, or in “My echoing song,” which you, lady, will not be able to hear anyway, sealed away in “thy marble vault.” And then, the poem turns almost ghastly, forcing our attention—and presumably the lady’s attention—to the physical details of death and decay. We will be, as Hamlet says, “at supper,” where “a certain convocation of politic worms” (Hamlet 4.3.18–20) will be at us like famine victims at a banquet table. Let the worms “try/That long-preserved virginity” says the speaker, in what seems a suddenly bitter tone. You’d rather have them inside you than me? Because you will have them inside of you one day, soon, and without your permission. Coyness may work with me, but it won’t work with the worms. It seems almost as if the speaker has here, rather like Hamlet in the scene with Ophelia right after the famous “To be or not to be” speech of 3.1, allowed himself to get so frustrated and even angry that he has forgotten to play his role—madness for Hamlet, smooth persuasive charm for Marvell’s speaker. The focus on the undeniably grotesque details of decomposition knocks the speaker off track here, as he seems almost to denounce the lady he would persuade. He rails at her, telling her that her “quaint honor” (honor that is both old-fashioned, and concerned with the body part Chaucer refers to as the “queynt”) will turn to dust, or whatever might be the term for the waste product that emerges from the alimentary canals of worms, while his lust—desire, life—will end up as nothing more than ashes. The powerful final couplet, however, is the payoff for the anger and grotesquerie that precedes it—in the grave, where speaker, lady, readers, everyone ends up, no one any longer has world enough or time enough for love: “The grave’s a fine and private place, /But none, I think, do there embrace.” The wry, ironic, perhaps even sarcastic “I think” seems to say to the lady (and any reader on the path of asceticism, denial, or even delay) what are you thinking? The time for life and love is now, because we have eternity to be alone, and chaste, in our graves. The final stanza returns to gentler persuasion, but this time with an enhanced urgency. The time is now: Now, therefore, while the youthful glew Sits on thy skin like morning dew, And while thy willing soul transpires At every pore with instant fires, Now let us sport us while we may; And now, like am’rous birds of prey, Rather at once our Time devour, Than languish in his slow-chapped power. Let us roll all our strength, and all Our sweetness, up into one ball: And tear our pleasures with rough strife, Through the iron gates of life. Thus, though we cannot make our sun Stand still, yet we will make him run. (Marvell 2003, pp. 83–84, ll. 33–47) 8 Isaiah 66:15. Biblical text is quoted from Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia (Rudolph and Elliger 1983). Humanities 2018, 7, 61 6 of 17 Now, while you are young, and while you are both willing and able (as your “willing soul transpires” or emits “instant fires” from “every pore”—either the speaker is trying to persuade the lady here, or she is more willing, even aroused, than she has so far let on), now let us “sport us” and like “amorous birds of prey” tear into the meat of life and love, devour Time itself rather than passively waiting for it to devour us. Let us not be kept out, barred, and excluded by the iron gates of life—gates of the kind meant, not to keep people in but to keep them out, in this case, the kinds of laws, customs, and social restrictions designed to keep them, and other lovers, out of the realms of pleasure and delight, limitations akin to what William Blake calls the “mind forg’d manacles” (Blake 1893, p. 56), the internalized rules that keep us from living fully, rules that exist only in the minds of all those who refuse, or are too terrified to say no to their arbitrary demands. If we are to live so, we will have to “tear our pleasures with rough strife/Through the iron gates of life,” because as Frederick Douglass observes “Power concedes nothing without a demand. It never did and it never will” (Douglass 2000, p. 367). The gods and kings of the world, with their theological, legal, and economic demands, will keep those “iron gates of life” barred at all costs, and the only resistance that has any chance at all of being effective is love. And even that resistance is ultimately futile, for “we cannot make our sun/Stand still.” We cannot stop the relentless march of time and the rapid approach of death. But we can “make him run.” We can live life as fully as possible, and dare the sun, dare Time, dare Death to catch us. It should go without remarking that the lady does not respond, so we have no clear sense of what, if anything, the coy lady addressed by the speaker thinks of his persuasions. And the critical reaction reflects a wide range of viewpoints. Thomas Wheeler argues that “To His Coy Mistress” is “the least Marvellian of all his poems” (Wheeler 1996, p. 90). He grounds this contention in the idea that Marvell’s most famous poem “fits perfectly into an identifiable poetic tradition. The carpe diem theme received memorable treatment from Marlowe, Donne, Jonson, Herrick, and Carew. Marvell’s poem only stands out because of its grim vision of the grave and its passionate urging of the lovers’ case. In other words, it does what a typical carpe diem poem does, but it does so with unparalleled power” (Wheeler 1996, p. 90). Wheeler seems to think that “To His Coy Mistress” is un-Marvellian because it is, in its genre and form, unoriginal. But a critic like Nigel Smith argues that such “imitation” is a Marvellian trait, since the poet “made a virtue and indeed a highly creative resource of being other men’s (and women’s) mirrors” (Smith 2010, p. 9). A rather more radical response to “His Coy Mistress” is found in Bernard Duyfhuizen, who insists that the poem has been read through the terms of “Masculine Criticism” for far too long, and describes Marvell’s poem as a “demeaning seduction” that depends on its “metaphysical conceit” to raise it “to the level of high seriousness as a universal construct of man’s desire to conquer his own mortality” (Duyfhuizen 1988, p. 418). Duyfhuizen identifies what he calls “a phallic causality” in the poem, one that “merely rewrites, rather than frees the Coy Mistress” (Duyfhuizen 1988, p. 418), and argues for a “feminist reading” which highlights the “noncapitulation of the Coy Mistress to her ardent Cavalier” (Duyfhuizen 1988, p. 421). But in positing a “plot of her refusal of love [and] her conviction to love only on her terms” (Duyfhuizen 1988, p. 419), Duyfhuizen rewrites the poem according to his own ideological commitments, providing a response that Marvell’s poem does not contain. In the process, Duyfhuizen tells us more about himself than about the poem. Duyfhuizen’s reading is driven by near-constant negative framings of anything he associates with the “male” or the “masculine”—for example, the “male theme and plot of conquest” (Duyfhuizen 1988, p. 413) is assumed to be both pervasive in poetry, and unsurprisingly, akin to “rape” (Duyfhuizen 1988, p. 413). For Duyfhuizen, the “‘iron gates of life’ represent the hymenal barrier the speaker seeks to break, but it [sic] also represents the birth canal [ . . . ]. In the male plot the gates are thrown open to welcome lust and life, but in the female plot the gates may be slamming shut” (Duyfhuizen 1988, p. 421) If “iron gates” are to be taken seriously as a “vaginal metaphor” (Duyfhuizen 1988, p. 419) one wonders exactly how any human reproduction ever takes place. Iron vaginas do not sound like particularly welcoming places, either for adult visitors or for fetal travelers. The critic then goes on to express his Humanities 2018, 7, 61 7 of 17 grave concern that “the female reader” (as if there is an easy, universal definition thereof) must resist being seduced into “reading like a man” (Duyfhuizen 1988, p. 416), which raises the amusing question of whether such a “female reader” (as defined by a man named Duyfhuizen) must resist his masculine definition of them as females and as readers, at which point the entire argument threatens to reveal itself as parody. A more helpful perspective on the poem is offered by Catherine Belsey, who suggests a political context and purpose for the poem when she argues that “To his Coy Mistress” may have been “drafted in 1649, the year when the execution of Charles I emblematically established the end of the old order of sovereignty and subjection” (Belsey 1987, p. 105). Belsey goes on to argue that “[i]n innumerable Renaissance poems, daffodils, roses, dew, snow, spring and all of nature conspire to demonstrate the worth of things that perish. The imminence and the eternity of death makes sex more urgent, its pleasures more intense. The body is precious because it dies” (Belsey 1987, p. 112). And it is the very worthiness and value of the mortal, the soon-to-die, which gives Marvell’s poem its power: “It is chastity, not lechery, which is punished after death by worms. [...] To choose love rather than asceticism is to defy eternity and choose the world. [It is] to repudiate the values which promise eternal life; to choose the pleasures of the body is thus to reject immortality” (Belsey 1987, p. 112). Such a choice rejects the demands of gods who offer immortality at the price of submission, a defiant stance we see taken on the epic scale both by Odysseus in the Odyssey, and by Adam and Eve in Milton’s Paradise Lost. But perhaps the most useful point about “To His Coy Mistress” is made in a fifty-year-old article that now seems like a remnant from an entirely different academic era. Rather than attempt to “reveal” or “unveil” anything about Marvell’s most famous work, Joseph Moldenhauer simply reminds us not to stray too far from the literary context within which the poem came into being: Over the exuberance of Elizabethan and seventeenth-century poetry the pall of death continually hovers, and the lyrics of the age would supply a handbook of strategies for the circumvention of decay. The birth of an heir, the preservative balm of memory, the refuge of Christian resignation or Platonic ecstasy—these are some solutions which the poets offer. Another is the artist’s ability to immortalize the world’s values by means of his verse. [...] The carpe diem lyric proposes are more direct and immediate, if also more temporary, solution to this overwhelming problem[:] the “harmless folly” of sensual enjoyment. (Moldenhauer 1968, pp. 190–91) For Moldenhauer, what makes the carpe diem mode is “its advocacy for a physical, rather than an aesthetic, solution to the problem of time” (Moldenhauer 1968, p. 204). Finally, what “To His Coy Mistress” asks its readers to see is that the wages of life are death, and no amount of trying to recuse oneself from the pleasures and pains of life will alter or diminish the payment of those wages by even a jot. Death is coming, and that is the primary reason not to obey the will of another (whether a god or a human ruler), but to choose for oneself whom to love and how to live before that life ends. The poem has undeniable power, and perhaps a great part of that power lies in its call for the lady to make up her mind about life, and its parallel call for its readers to make up their minds about life. The dilemma described by Marvell’s poem is remarkably similar in its terms (and its power) to that faced by the narrator of Friedrich Schiller’s 1786 poem, “Resignation.” Faced with the choice between the pleasures of life now, or the hope of a life to come, Schiller’s narrator makes the pious and obedient choice that Marvell’s narrator hopes his Coy Mistress will reject. Speaking to der Vergelterin (the Rewarder—the poem’s term for God), Schiller’s narrator obeys the command to reject the joys of life: Humanities 2018, 7, 61 8 of 17 “Ich zahle dir in einem andern Leben, “I’ll pay you in another life, Gib deine Jugend mir! Give me your youth! Nichts kann ich dir als diese Weisung geben.” Nothing but this command can I give you.” Ich nahm die Weisung auf das andre Leben, I accepted the command to the other life, Und meiner Jugend Freuden gab ich ihr. And I gave you my youthful joys. “Gib mir das Weib, so theuer deinem Herzen, “Give me the woman, so dear to your heart, Gib deine Laura mir! Give me your Laura! Jenseits der Gräber wuchern deine Schmerzen.” Beyond the grave you will profit from your pain.” Ich riß sie blutend aus dem wunden Herzen I tore her bleeding from my wounded heart, Und weinte laut und gab sie ihr. And cried aloud, and gave her to you. (Schiller 1873, p. 64) But the sacrifice was a foolish one, as Schiller ’s narrator is told by der Vergelterin that the sacrifice of life and love had been its own perverse reward, that Hope leads to nothing like the andern Leben that had been promised, and wasted time and opportunities will never be reclaimed: “Du hast gehofft, dein Lohn ist abgetragen, “You have had Hope; your wages are paid, Dein Glaube war dein zugewognes Glück. Your faith was the happiness weighed out to you. Du konntest deine Weisen fragen, You might have inquired of the wise: Was man von der Minute ausgeschlagen, What is rejected in the moment, Gibt keine Ewigkeit zurück.” No Eternity gives back.” (Schiller 1873, p. 66) “To His Coy Mistress” poses a simple choice, and insists on the necessity of choice. Will you live now, will you choose for yourself, as you would if there were no laws—either human or divine, secular or theological—against the joys of life and love? Or will you submit to the will, the laws, the customs, even the whims of authority, as you patiently and obediently wait for death? 3. Carpe Diem as Will and Choice in Elizabeth Cary’s The Tragedy of Mariam The questions posed by Marvell’s poem, and by the long-established carpe diem theme itself, help us understand what is most powerfully at stake in Elizabeth Cary’s 1613 drama The Tragedy of Mariam, the Fair Queen of Jewry. Choice, specifically female choice, is precisely what is at issue in the world Cary portrays. Female will, in a world of male power, and the consequences of choosing other than kings and husbands would have women choose, are central to the dilemmas of both Mariam, the Judean queen who struggles with the question of obedience, and Salome, whom some critics are inclined to dismiss as a libertine and a villain for openly choosing in defiance of the norms of her time and place. To choose, of course, is often more difficult than it sounds. “All choice is frightening, when one thinks about it: a terrifying liberty, unguided by a greater duty.”9 Choices open some doors, but close others. New lives, new possibilities, come at the expense of other possibilities, lives now foreclosed or lost. Authority figures—the insistent Augustus Caesars of the world—often try to simplify matters, insisting that choice must be circumscribed, that only certain choices are allowable or legitimate. In the face of such demands, to seize the day is to choose for oneself, to refuse to submit, to be willing to take the risk of living before that “necessary end” (Julius Caesar 2.2.36) finally comes. From the perspective of authority, however, the key function of choice is to elicit praise for one’s obedience, praise delivered by the very authority figure who takes pleasure in being obeyed. Choice in the ruled, which includes the possibility of disobedience, enhances the pleasures of power for the ruler. Subjects without choice, without free will, or with wills so broken as to be no longer functional, offer the ruler no satisfaction: “what pleasure I, from such obedience paid?” (Milton 1957, Paradise Lost 3.107). The pleasure stems from the experience of an active and functioning will submitting to one’s 9 “Tout choix est effrayant, quand on y songe: effrayante une liberté que ne guide plus un devoir” (Gide 1921, p. 14). Humanities 2018, 7, 61 9 of 17 own. In the case of those who choose incorrectly, those who disobey, such a ruler inflicts punishment, up to and including death. But the political point of carpe diem poetry, from the Odes of Horace to Marvell’s “To His Coy Mistress,” is that such rulers are absurd and to be defied, because death is coming anyway. Thus, the question is not if one will eventually die, but if one will live first, and that stark reality is the ground on which the battles over choice are fought in The Tragedy of Mariam. The play’s king, Herod, is precisely the kind of authority figure for whom the necessary consequence of incorrect choice (the choice to follow one’s own will rather than that of the ruler) is death. Furious with Mariam, his wife and his queen, Herod determines that she must die for her disobedience: She’s unchaste; Her mouth will ope to ev’ry stranger’s ear. Then let the executioner make haste. Lest she enchant him if her words he hear. Let him be deaf, lest she do him surprise. (Cary 2002, 4.7.77–81) Mariam, who along with everyone else at the beginning of the play, mistakenly believes Herod to be dead, harbors a bitter anger toward the king, her husband, both for having married her primarily in order to gain access to the throne on which he now sits, and for having killed her relatives during his climb to power: For Aristobulus, the lowliest youth That ever did in angel’s shape appear, The cruel Herod was not moved to ruth; Then why grieves Mariam Herod’s death to hear? Why joy I not the tongue no more shall speak, That yielded forth my brother’s latest doom: Both youth and beauty might thy fury break, And both in him did ill befit a tomb. And, worthy grandsire, ill did he requite His high ascent, alone by thee procured, Except he murdered thee to free the sprite Which still he thought on earth too long immured. (Cary 2002, 1.1.35–46) Despite her anger, she is torn over Herod’s “death,” vacillating between anger and nostalgia while remembering the times when she had loved him, or thought she had: “These thoughts have power, his death to make me bear, /Nay more, to wish the news may firmly hold: /Yet cannot this repulse some falling tear, /That will against my will some grief unfold. /And more I owe him for his love to me, /The deepest love that ever yet was seen” (Cary 2002, 1.1.51–56). But on finding that Herod is alive, and being brought to him due to his impassioned desire to see her—“The thought of Mariam doth so steal my sprite, /My mouth from speech of her I cannot wean” (Cary 2002, 4.2.43–44)—her anger overwhelms her; she refuses his bed, and berates him for the killing of her family, while rejecting the explanations he gives, which as Barbara Lewalski has observed, merely reinforces Herod’s “jealous conviction that she has been unfaithful with Sohemus” (Lewalski 1993, p. 195), the king’s counselor in whom Mariam had confided her anger and grief. Betrayed in a court intrigue by Salome, the sister of Herod who plays an Iago-like role in stoking Herod’s jealousy, Mariam goes to her death, framed for a poisoning attempt she had no knowledge of, while naively trusting in her own innocence as a defense. She dies, in part, for asserting her will, for refusing to pretend any longer to love a man she now hates: “My lord, I suit my garment to my mind, /And there no cheerful colors can I find” (Cary 2002, 4.3.5–6). The Chorus of the play, a body that Sandra Fischer describes as “traditional, almost reactionary in its observations, and certainly not to be heard as the voice of the playwright” (Fischer 1985, p. 236), Humanities 2018, 7, 61 10 of 17 blames Mariam for having been disobedient. For the Chorus, despite the fact that Mariam has not been physically unfaithful to Herod, she has been mentally or emotionally so through her confiding in Sohemus, and therefore has brought her execution on herself. The orthodox voice of the Chorus, that voice that always seems to stand for authority and against individual will, here suggests that Mariam should have been as her husband and owner, as her society and time would have desired her to be, a creature bound, restricted, and willingly so. Nor, according to the Chorus, is it enough to be obedient; one must also seem obedient in even the smallest of things, while preferring restraint and submission to freedom: ’Tis not enough for one that is a wife To keep her spotless from an act of ill: But from suspicion she should free her life, And bare herself of power as well as will. ’Tis not so glorious for her to be free, As by her proper self restrained to be. (Cary 2002, 3 Chorus, ll. 1–6) Mariam’s lack of restraint, according to the Chorus, led her to take actions that, while not unlawful, were unwise. Confiding in Sohemus, and having been known to do so, is part of what plants suspicion in the mind of the jealous Herod. And for the Chorus, this is not Herod’s problem, but Mariam’s: When she hath spacious ground to walk upon, Why on the ridge should she desire to go? It is no glory to forbear alone Those things that may her honor overthrow. But ’tis thankworthy if she will not take All lawful liberties for honor’s sake. That wife her hand against her fame doth rear, That more than to her lord alone will give A private word to any second ear, And though she may with reputation live, Yet though most chaste, she doth her glory blot, And wounds her honor, though she kills it not. (Cary 2002, 3 Chorus, ll. 7–18) Why walk right up to the line of allowable behavior and attitudes, the Chorus asks. Why not restrain yourself, tighten those mind-forg’d manacles even more tightly than one’s rulers would have you do, just to be extra sure of being compliant, and cheerfully so at that? And to talk, to converse, to open one’s most private thoughts and doubts to anyone other than one’s husband, one’s private ruler, well, how can you not see that as a “blot,” a wound to one’s “honor,” an insidious and subtle form of disobedience? For the Chorus, the proposition that a woman is wholly owned—in body and mind, action and thought—is self-evident: When to their husbands they themselves do bind, Do they not wholly give themselves away? Or give they but their body, not their mind, Reserving that, though best, for others’ prey? No sure, their thoughts no more can be their own, And therefore should to none but one be known. Then she usurps upon another’s right, That seeks to be by public language graced: And though her thoughts reflect with purest light, Her mind if not peculiar is not chaste. Humanities 2018, 7, 61 11 of 17 For in a wife it is no worse to find, A common body than a common mind. (Cary 2002, 3 Chorus, ll. 19–30) The Chorus, though acknowledging Mariam’s innocence, nevertheless blames her for her eventual death, because she did not keep herself a strict and exclusive possession of Herod’s. Had only Mariam done so, in demonstration of the “fact” that married women’s “thoughts no more can be their own” because they are entirely owned by their husbandly lords and masters who require absolute obedience in both action and thought, then Mariam had “[b]een free from fear, as well as innocent” (Cary 2002, 3 Chorus, l. 36). A more thoroughgoing description, not of mere authoritarianism, but of totalitarianism, will not come along again in English literature until Orwell: You are here because you have failed in humility, in self-discipline. You would not make the act of submission which is the price of sanity. [...] The Party is not interested in the overt act: the thought is all we care about. [...] We are not content with negative obedience, nor even with the most abject submission. When finally you surrender to us, it must be of your own free will. [...] It is intolerable to us that an erroneous thought should exist anywhere in the world, however secret and powerless it may be. (Orwell 1961, pp. 205, 209, 210) In a world that insists on obedience, on willed and cheerful submission, the one who refuses, who says non serviam to those who take pleasure in being obeyed, is often cast into the role of villain. Such is the case in The Tragedy of Mariam with the character Salome. Lewalski calls her “[t]horoughly wicked,” and remarks that “she will do anything to compass her own will,” including flaunting “her illicit affairs and [having] “two husbands killed when she is ready to replace them” (Lewalski 1993, p. 196). Lewalski goes on to assure us that “[m]ost readers of the age would share [her not-yet dead husband’s] view that his wife’s ‘private conference’ with her new lover Sileus is shameful,” but that most of all, “her proposal to divorce her husband is shocking—a gender confusion that threatens order in nature and society” (Lewalski 1993, pp. 196–97). Lewalski is at least partly right, even though her rush to moral judgment prevents her from giving more than a glancing consideration to the truly radical nature of Salome’s proposal. As Ilona Bell notes, “Salome expressly repudiates Judaic law, which gives men but not women the right to divorce” (Bell 2006, p. 24). But Salome is no mere villain. She is this play’s most powerful embodiment of carpe diem’s insistence on the freedom to choose how to live and whom to love. Through Salome, Elizabeth Cary attacks one of the most basic structural inequities (and iniquities) of Renaissance England: the near-ownership of wives by husbands, and the inability of wives yoked to neglectful, unfaithful, financially profligate, and even violent husbands to find any relief from either the church or the crown: Cary’s Judaic Palestine resembles early modern England insofar as English common law granted legal rights to husbands that it did not officially grant to wives, and those rights granted to husbands gave them significant economic powers over their wives. The result was a system in which husbands’ potential abuse of their legal rights might place wives in vulnerable positions. Cary’s Mosaic law, therefore, stands in for Renaissance English marriage law. (Alfar 2008, p. 62) There is no record of Cary’s drama ever having been performed, as Andrew Hiscock has noted, but as a play designed to be read, it was equally designed to stir emotional controversy and intellectual debate: There is no evidence that Mariam was ever publicly staged in early modern England, and the fact that the play was composed within the conventions of closet drama makes this possibility all the more unlikely. This kind of composition, influenced by Senecan and French Renaissance tragic modes of writing, [...] overtly foregrounded intellectual and cultural Humanities 2018, 7, 61 12 of 17 debate, stressing the exploration of political doctrine and dissent. It was seen primarily as a reading experience which privileged discussion over dramatization, the word over the deed. (Hiscock 2004, p. 118) Debate, discussion, and dissent revolve around the character of Salome, who serves Cary in much the same way that Iago and Edmund serve Shakespeare, as a means for expressing sentiments and giving voice to ideas radically outside the mainstream in England: “Salome apostrophizes herself, ‘ill-fated Salome,’ because like Iago or Edmund, she aims to be the agent of her own fate” (Bell 2006, p. 25). In a time and place in which English Protestants were enmeshed within a theology that was a blend of Luther’s notion of the bondage of the will, and Calvin’s insistence that the human will was entirely depraved and corrupted by sin, to assert freedom of the will was tantamount to denying the power of God, and in practical terms, declaring oneself an atheist. For the twin giants of Reformation theology, fallen man was inherently worthy of damnation; all deserved the most severe and horrible judgment, but some—quite undeservedly—would be given the gift of God’s grace. Luther expresses the full force of this idea in his De Servo Arbitrio (The Bondage of the Will): “Because there is none righteous, no, not one is aware, no one who seeks God, all have turned aside, they are together become unprofitable, there is none that does good, no, not one.”10 For Luther, human will is inherently evil, and is only able to “choose” evil (thus making a mockery of choice) unless it is bolstered by the grace of God. Only by God’s grace can a human being choose the good. Calvin expresses a similar idea: “mankind is so captured by the yoke of sin that he cannot aspire to the good in his actions or in his will.”11 Now Cary was not an atheist, but neither was she much impressed with the theological stylings of Luther and Calvin; much of her life was spent struggling, with herself and others, over her rejection of such theological ideas in her conversion to Catholicism. However, in the face of what Alfar calls “patrilineal injunctions for appropriate female identity” (Alfar 2008, p. 89), and in the face of an England in which women were trapped by what Laura Gowing calls “a uniquely unreformed canon law on marriage”12 such necessary criticisms as Cary makes in The Tragedy of Mariam are most safely made through a character in relation to which one can claim a certain level of Nixonian “plausible deniability.” Oh, that was the villain talking. You can’t take that seriously. But just as with the calls to choose life and love now in carpe diem poetry, Salome’s critique, embodied in her choice to love whom she desires and when she desires, must be taken seriously. For what Salome does is to tear the traditional claims of male privilege—and their hypocritically pious bases in religion—absolutely to shreds. In her view, it is intolerable that men can choose but women can only be chosen, that men can reject but women can only be rejected, and that under the Mosaic law married men may divorce but married women are owned for life. Salome loves Sileus, and would choose to be with him, except that the demands of authority, law, and religion would have her believe that such a choice is not possible. But Salome no longer believes in the laws and pieties of her island and tribe, and instead subjects those laws and pieties to a devastating critique: But shame is gone, and honor wiped away, And impudency on my forehead sits: She bids me work my will without delay, And for my will I will employ my wits. He loves, I love; what then can be the cause 10 “Quia non est justus quisquam, non est inteligens, non est requirens Deum, omnes declinaverunt, simul inutiles facti funt, non est qui faciat bonum, non est usque ad unum” (Luther 1707, p. 195). 11 “Hominen peccati iugo ita captium teneri, ne ad bonum aut voto aspirare” (Calvin 1559, p. 101). 12 Gowing explains that “while Protestant states in Europe were moving towards separations which allowed at least the innocent party to remarry, England’s church courts remained empowered to do no more than grant judicial separations, ‘from bed and board.’ Such separations allowed couples to live apart, but precluded remarriage by either party, guilty or innocent” (Gowing 1996, pp. 180–81). Humanities 2018, 7, 61 13 of 17 Keeps me from being the Arabian’s wife? It is the principles of Moses’ laws, For Constabarus still remains in life. (Cary 2002, 1.4.33–40) As Alfar notes, Salome’s “marriage to Constabarus stands in the way of her wish to marry the Arabian prince, Silleus.” But instead of simply submit to the demands of law, or as Mariam does, rebel inwardly while maintaining an outward appearance of conformity, Salome rejects the “unequal distribution of legal rights that tie her unwillingly to a man she no longer loves” while going on to target the primary source of injustice, “the inequity between men and women in Mosaic law that bars women from divorcing their husbands while allowing husbands to divorce their wives” (Alfar 2008, p. 62): If he to me did bear as earnest hate, As I to him, for him there were an ease; A separating bill might free his fate From such a yoke that did so much displease. Why should such privilege to man be given? Or given to them, why barred from women then? Are men than we in greater grace with Heaven? Or cannot women hate as well as men? I’ll be the custom-breaker: and begin To show my sex the way to freedom’s door, And with an off’ring will I purge my sin; The law was made for none but who are poor. (Cary 2002, 1.4.41–52) Taking on, in the last line quoted above, something of the voice of Shakespeare’s Richard III, for whom “Conscience is but a word that cowards use, /Devised at first to keep the strong in awe” (Richard III, 5.3.310–11). Salome stands up and takes her place within a fellowship of like-minded characters in early modern literature, devotees of the religion of Will, literary creations that might be called “Apostles of the Will,” who think of themselves as individuals, not determined by their worlds, but remaking them in their own images, male and female, old and young. Such characters believe in a thing we have come to call “Free Will,” and think themselves entitled to live as they choose, to fashion their lives, their worlds, their very selves in the image of their desires. What is most powerfully relevant about such characters as Salome is not that they choose for good or for ill, but that they choose. Especially in a world in which authority is often considered to be divinely-sanctioned, to resist that authority can be seen as diabolically radical. For Cary to write such a character, inhabiting a play that problematizes the authority of husbands and kings by showing that authority to be jealous and tyrannical, is easily understood as a radical act. In fact, as Alfar points out, it is a critique of the very foundations of an authoritarian society: When Cary writes a play whose wives struggle with and call into question their obedience to their husbands and their relationship to marriage law, and when one of these husbands is a king and a tyrant, largely because of his misuse of marriage law, [she] launches a simultaneous critique against orthodox forms of marriage and monarchy, for the absolute authority of kings and husbands makes of both institutions a tyranny against which married women have little recourse. (Alfar 2008, p. 67) What Salome stands up for, despite her betrayal of Mariam (which does not discredit the political stand she takes on marriage, unless one is casting about for even thinly plausible reasons to reject that stand), is the idea that the freedom to choose whom to love, how to love, if to love is not one that can be ceded to the demands of kings, laws, and customs without a fight: she fights not only for her own interests (as a critic determined to poke holes in her arguments might insist), but also for the interests Humanities 2018, 7, 61 14 of 17 of all women (and by extension, all those of any gender or definition who find themselves subject to the authority of tyrants). In struggling “[t]o show [her] sex the way to freedom’s door,” Salome also struggles on behalf of characters like Pheroras, who has been ordered by Herod to marry a woman he does not love, one whom he describes as “a baby” and related to him within the degrees of consanguinity that would comprise incest: “What though she be my niece, a princess born? /Near blood’s without respect, high birth a toy, /Since love can teach us blood and kindred’s scorn” (Cary 2002, 2.1.16, 22–24). Pheroras would choose (and is chosen by) Graphina, but as this play’s version of the “star-crossed lovers,” their ability to choose has been overridden by the demands of authority. Bell explains this dynamic cogently within its poetic context: Like Donne’s lovers, whose ‘true plain hearts do in the faces rest’ (‘The Good Morrow’), Pheroras treats Graphina as another desiring subject who shares his liberation and returns his loving gaze: ‘This blessed hour . . . hath my wished liberty restor’d, /And made my subject self my own again. /Thy love, fair maid, upon mine eye doth sit’ (2.1.6; 9). By contrast, Salome represents herself as desiring subject (‘When I on Constabarus first did gaze’), but reduces her lover to the mirror of her desires, rendering him the ‘object to mine eye’ (1.4.275). Like the traditional Petrarchan poet, Salome assumes that the whole world shares her admiration for her beloved’s physical beauty: ‘Whose looks and personage must [all eyes] amaze’ (1.4.276). Sileus is perfectly willing to be objectified and controlled by Salome; he is pleased to be ‘deified, /by gaining thee’ (1.4.327). (Bell 2006, p. 24) Cary is striving to make a point, disguised though it might be behind the overt villainy of Salome as the struggler for choice in love, for as Erin Kelly tells us, “Cary’s most wholly original addition to the story of Mariam and Herod [is] the character Graphina” (Kelly 2006, p. 40). In this addition, one that seems deliberately calculated in order to enhance the theme of love chosen despite authority, the theme of injustice and immorality is not focused on so obvious a target as Salome, but as Alfar argues, on the “tyrannical system of marriage and monarchical relations that the play depicts as immoral” (Alfar 2008, p. 90). Against such views as those expressed by Constabarus, for whom women are merely and properly property, Salome stands up for the right and ability to choose one’s own love and life, and is more than willing to engage her Machiavellian side to fight for that right and ability. Those readers who would have her be as Mariam is, or who would have both characters be as meek and mild as Graphina, would seem to choose an outward morality over an inward freedom. The seemingly moral are often the most immoral in Cary’s play. Constabarus, for example, who stands up for the traditional monarchical and hierarchical order, sounds a great deal like Shakespeare’s Ulysses, the great liar and manipulator from Troilus and Cressida while so doing: Are Hebrew women now transformed to men? Why do you not as well our battles fight, And wear our armor? Suffer this, and then Let all the world be topsy-turvèd quite. turned upside down Let fishes graze, beasts swim and birds descend, Let fire burn downwards whilst the earth aspires: Let winter’s heat and summer’s cold offend, Let thistles grow on vines, and grapes on briars, Set us to spin or sew, or at the best Make us wood-hewers, water-bearing wights: For sacred service let us take no rest, Use us as Joshua did the Gibonites. (Cary 2002, 1.6.47–59) Humanities 2018, 7, 61 15 of 17 For Constabarus, as Alfar argues, “[w]hat makes Salome evil [...] and earns her [his] vitriolic condemnation is her appropriation of men’s legal privileges, which he sees as a breach of a natural gender divide” (Alfar 2008, p. 85). The structure of the world depends, in Constabarus’ view, on Salome’s obedience to a system of laws that gives him a structural advantage while requiring that she “wholly give herself away” in the words of the Chorus. Similarly, Shakespeare’s Ulysses argues for the absolute necessity of other people’s obedience in maintaining the “proper” order of the universe: O, when degree is shaked, Which is the ladder to all high designs, Then enterprise is sick! How could communities, Degrees in schools and brotherhoods in cities, Peaceful commerce from dividable shores, The primogenitive and due of birth, Prerogative of age, crowns, sceptres, laurels, But by degree, stand in authentic place? Take but degree away, untune that string, And, hark, what discord follows! (Troilus and Cressida, 1.3.101–10) Such an exhortation to order is especially rich coming from Ulysses, famous in Greek and Roman literature for his virtuosic facility with lying and self-serving deceit. But then, as Bell reminds us, a sense of the shared hypocrisy of Constabarus and Ulysses is probably part of the effect Cary’s text is trying to achieve: On the surface, Constabarus is a “good” character, the upholder of morality and social order. He cherishes Mariam’s virtue and wishes to protect her from Salome. He loves Salome despite her infidelity, and tries to protect her from herself: “My words were all intended for thy good, /To raise thine honour and to stop disgrace” (1.6.411–12). Yet Constabarus’s sermonizing begins to look considerably less high-minded and more suspiciously self serving when we recall, first, that his goal is to get Salome (with her access to networks of power) back, subdued to his will and his gain; and, second, that his own love for Salome began as an adulterous liaison (Salome was then married to Josephus). When Constabarus’s speech and the scene end with another sonnet extolling the “sweet-fac’d,” “innocent,” “purest” Mariam, it becomes increasingly clear that Constabarus admires and idealizes Mariam as the ideal of female virtue precisely because he sees her as powerless. (Bell 2006, p. 26) In the world of power, with its brutal demands for obedience (especially from women who are idealized for their lack of power), and its calls for compliance even at the level of thought, it is love—not plotting and villainy—that is the energy and the engine that enables resistance. As Bell argues, the power of love is what drives the rebellions described in the play: Like Pheroras and Graphina, Salome and Sileus enjoy a fully mutual love: ‘He loves, I love; what then can be the cause/Keeps me [from] being the Arabian’s wife?’ (1.4.297–98). Like many Elizabethan poets/lovers (including Sidney, Donne, Gascoigne, Whythorne, and Daniel) who used enigmatic, allegorical poetry to negotiate clandestine marriage contracts or extramarital love affairs, Salome urges her lover, Sileus, to join her in rejecting the social, ethical, and legal codes that would prevent them from fulfilling their desires. (Bell 2006, p. 24) 4. Conclusions There is sometimes a tendency among literary critics to downplay the subversive elements in such work as Marvell’s and Cary’s. Marvell’s poem, as Nigel Smith argues, “is a parody of the Christian doctrine of resurrection: death is overcome not by resurrection in the afterlife but by life” (Smith 2010, Humanities 2018, 7, 61 16 of 17 p. 106). However, Smith quickly retreats into the more orthodox suggestion that Marvell is merely being ironic: “the speaker thinks that lust will be rewarded with more pleasure in life; the Christian knows that the wages of sin (i.e., lust) are death” (Smith 2010, p. 106). Perhaps. But what the carpe diem ethos has asked of readers since the time of Horace is to see that the wages of life are death, and no amount of obedient dismissal of one’s own desires, no quantity of choice given over to those in authority, will lessen the payment when it finally comes due. To reject the subversive message of Marvell’s poem is to miss the extent of its power. To vilify the voice of Cary’s character Salome—merely giving it a kind of “devil’s due” while burying that voice and its claims inside the critical rhetoric of wickedness and claims about what “[m]ost readers of the age” (Lewalski 1993, p. 196) would have thought of her—is to miss the depth and vigor of its critique. This is akin to the reductive gesture Lawrence Stone makes with Shakespeare—treating a literary artifact as limited by the conditions of its time and place, while regarding those conditions as monolithic and without exceptions or currents of resistance.13 Kiernan Ryan has long argued that such critical stances do a great injustice to the potential of literature to “dramatise the future possibilities stored in stubborn actualities” (Ryan 1995, p. 39). A voice like Salome’s is richer and more textured for its engagement with the very same carpe diem ethos that Marvell’s poem itself engages with some decades later. In calling for “His Coy Mistress” to choose life and love in the here and now, Marvell’s poetic voice stands in a millennia-long tradition of resistance to authority. In calling for freedom against tyranny, for choice in love and marriage, and for the ability to live on one’s own terms, despite the demands of those whose imperious wills simply must be obeyed, Elizabeth Cary’s Salome transcends the role of a mere villain. In so doing, she becomes not just an Apostle of the Will, but an Apostle of Choice, and a powerful embodiment of the ethos of carpe diem poetry. Funding: This research received no external funding. Conflicts of Interest: The author declares no conflict of interest. References Alfar, Cristina León. 2008. Elizabeth Cary’s Female Trinity: Breaking Custom with Mosaic Law in ‘The Tragedy of Mariam’. Early Modern Women 3: 61–103. Anderson, Linda. 1991. The Nature of Marvell’s Mower. Studies in English Literature 31: 131–46. [CrossRef] Ausonius. 2001. Ausonius: Epigrams. Text with Introduction and Commentary. Edited by Nigel M. Kay. London: Duckworth. Bell, Ilona. 2006. Private Lyrics in Elizabeth Cary’s Tragedy of Mariam. In The Literary Career and Legacy of Elizabeth Cary. Edited by Heather Wolfe. Gordonsville: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 17–34. Belsey, Catherine. 1987. Love and Death in ‘To His Coy Mistress’. In Post-structuralist Readings of English Poetry. Edited by Richard Machin and Christopher Norris. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 105–21. Blake, William. 1893. The Works of William Blake. Edited by Edwin John Ellis and William Butler Yeats. London: Benard Quartich, vols. 1–3. Calvin, Jean. 1559. Institutio Christianae Religionis. Genevae: Oliua Roberti Stephani. Cary, Elizabeth. 2002. The Tragedy of Mariam. In English Renaissance Drama. Edited by David M. Bevington, Lars Engle and Katharine Eisaman Maus. New York: W.W. Norton. Davis, Philip J. 1999. Ovid’s Amores: A Political Reading. Classical Philology 94: 431–49. [CrossRef] 13 Stone argues that “the tragedy of Romeo and Juliet, [lay] in the way they brought destruction upon themselves by violating the norms of the society in which they lived,” and frames Shakespeare’s plays in terms of “a clear conflict of values between the idealization of love by some poets, playwrights and the authors of romances on the one hand, and its rejection as a form of imprudent folly and even madness by all theologians, moralists, authors of manuals of conduct, and parents and adults in general” (Stone 1977, pp. 87, 181). For Neema Parvini, such a perspective indicates “how entrenched and pervasive the cultural historicist view [has] become,” and reflects “a form of social determinism [in which individuals] are said to be conditioned by a set of social, cultural and ideological forces,” and are regarded as “entirely products of their particular place at a particular historical moment” (Parvini 2012, pp. 2, 52). http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/450447 http://dx.doi.org/10.1086/449457 Humanities 2018, 7, 61 17 of 17 Douglass, Frederick. 2000. West India Emancipation. In Frederick Douglass: Selected Speeches and Writings. Edited by Philip S. Foner and Yuval Taylor. Chicago: Chicago Review Press, pp. 358–68. Duyfhuizen, Bernard. 1988. Textual Harassment of Marvell’s Coy Mistress: The Institutionalization of Masculine Criticism. College English 50: 411–23. [CrossRef] Emerson, Ralph Waldo. 2002. Self Reliance. In Nature and Selected Essays. Edited by Larzer Ziff. London: Penguin, pp. 175–204. Fischer, Sandra K. 1985. Elizabeth Cary and Tyranny. In Silent But for the Word: Tudor Women as Patrons, Translators, and Writers of Religious Works. Edited by Margaret P. Hannay. Kent: Kent State University Press, pp. 225–37. Gide, André. 1921. Les Nourritures Terrestres. Paris: Gallimard. Glancy, Ruth F. 2002. Thematic Guide to British Poetry. Westport: Greenwood Press. Gowing, Laura. 1996. Domestic Dangers: Women, Words, and Sex in Early Modern London. Oxford: Clarendon. Oxford: Clarendon. Hiscock, Andrew. 2004. The Uses of This World Thinking Space in Shakespeare, Marlowe, Cary, and Jonson. Cardiff: University of Wales Press. Horace, Daniel H. Garrison. 1998. Horace: Epodes and Odes. Edited by Daniel H. Garrison. Norman: University of Oklahoma Press. Kelly, Erin E. 2006. Mariam and Early Modern Discourses of Martyrdom. In The Literary Career and Legacy of Elizabeth Cary. Edited by Heather Wolfe. Gordonsville: Palgrave Macmillan, pp. 35–52. Lewalski, Barbara. 1993. Writing Women in Jacobean England. Cambridge: Harvard University Press. Luther, Martin. 1707. B. Patris Martini Lutheri Liber de Servo Arbitrio. Edited by Sebastian Schmid. Strasburg: J. R. Dulsseckeri. Marvell, Andrew. 2003. The Poems of Andrew Marvell. Edited by Nigel Smith. London: Pearson. Milton, John. 1957. Complete Poems and Major Prose. Edited by Merritt Hughes. New York: Odyssey Press. Moldenhauer, Joseph J. 1968. The Voices of Seduction in ‘To His Coy Mistress’: A Rhetorical Analysis. Texas Studies in Literature and Language 10: 189–206. Musil, Robert. 1957. Der Mann Ohne Eigenschaften [The Man without Qualities]. Berlin: Rowohlt Verlag. Orwell, George. 1961. 1984. New York: Signet. Parvini, Neema. 2012. Shakespeare's History Plays: Rethinking Historicism. Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press. Rudolph, Wilhelm, and Karl Elliger. 1983. Biblia Hebraica Stuttgartensia. Edited by Karl Elliger and Willhelm Rudolph. Stuttgart: Deutsche Bibelgesellschaft. Ryan, Kiernan. 1995. Shakespeare, 2nd ed. Hempsted: Prentice Hall. Schiller, Friedrich. 1873. Gedichte von Friedrich von Schiller. Stuttgart: J.G. Cottaschen Buchhandlung. Shakespeare, William. 2002. William Shakespeare: The Complete Works. Edited by Stephen Orgel and A.R. Braunmuller. New York: Pelican. Smith, Nigel. 2010. Andrew Marvell: The Chameleon. New Haven and London: Yale University Press. Stone, Lawrence. 1977. The Family, Sex, and Marriage in England 1500–1800. New York: Harper and Row. Wheeler, Thomas. 1996. Andrew Marvell Revisited. New York: Twayne Publishers. © 2018 by the author. Licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution (CC BY) license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). http://dx.doi.org/10.2307/377620 http://creativecommons.org/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. Introduction A Fine and Private Place: Andrew Marvell and His Coy Mistress Carpe Diem as Will and Choice in Elizabeth Cary’s The Tragedy of Mariam Conclusions References 
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work_775ebxatm5aidbdilc6dskaxpi	----	Visual Arts Graduate Program DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY THE ARTIST’S GARDEN: Reshaping the Landscape LEO ROBBA COLLEGE OF ARTS AND SOCIAL SCIENCES Research School of Humanities and the Arts SCHOOL OF ART Visual Arts Graduate Program DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY LEO ROBBA THE ARTIST’S GARDEN: Reshaping the Landscape AN EXEGESIS SUBMITTED IN PART FULFILMENT FOR THE DEGREE OF THE DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY OF THE AUSTRALIAN NATIONAL UNIVERSITY MARCH 2017   ii   Declaration of originality I, Leo Robba ……………………………….................…. hereby declare that the thesis here presented is the outcome of the research project undertaken during my candidacy, that I am the sole author unless otherwise indicated, and that I have fully documented the source of the ideas, references, quotation and paraphrases attributable to other authors.   iii   Acknowledgements I thank my supervisors, Ruth Waller, Gordon Bull and Peter Maloney, for their support throughout the course of this project. Particular thanks are due to Ruth for her practical suggestions, thoughtful guidance and truthful analysis of my work. I would also like to thank my dear friends Professor Tony Capon, Sydney University, Dr Wendy Relf, Australian Catholic University, Professor Jon Allen, WSU and Gillean Shaw, UON for their encouragement and support. I very much appreciated the friendship and encouragement of my fellow students, in particular Elisabeth Bodey and Wendy Tsai. Thankyou to my children, Mathilda and Lucien, for their patience and understanding, and special thanks go to John Warburton, Eddie Hopely and again to Professor Jon Allen for their meticulous proofreading. Any errors in the text are entirely my responsibility. Finally my heart-felt thanks goes to my wife, Adrienne Richards, for her tolerance, encouragement and unconditional support.   iv   CONTENTS Abstract ................................................................................................................... vii List of Illustrations ................................................................................................ viii INTRODUCTION ................................................................................................... 1 Prologue .................................................................................................................. 1 The Parallels Between Gardening and Painting ...................................................... 3 The Power of Imagination ....................................................................................... 4 Aesthetic Considerations: Composition, Looking and Awareness, Materiality...... 4 CHAPTER ONE: The Picturesque Landscape as Constructed Nature Introduction ........................................................................................................... 16 The Picturesque ..................................................................................................... 17 The Brownian Landscape: Compton Verney ........................................................ 20 Contemporary Reading of a New Picturesque....................................................... 26 Acknowledging the Past ........................................................................................ 29 Aboriginal Memorial Gardens ............................................................................... 30 The Constructed Landscape................................................................................... 32 Conclusion ............................................................................................................. 34 CHAPTER TWO: The Making of a Garden and the Painting of a Picture Introduction............................................................................................................ 35 Improvement and Transformation ......................................................................... 36 An Idealised Landscape or Realistic Depiction..................................................... 39 Seed, Settlement, Parklands and Dispossession .................................................... 43 Conclusion ............................................................................................................. 48   CHAPTER THREE: Stanley Spencer: Painting the English Landscape Garden Introduction............................................................................................................ 50 Reverence, Garden Culture and Picturing Place.................................................... 51 By the River: Bellrope Meadow and Cookham Bridge......................................... 53   v   Stinging Nettles: Method and Composition ......................................................... 56 Magnolia: The Importance of the Foreground ...................................................... 58 Three Main Influences: Materiality, Methodology and Composition .................. 60 Conclusion ............................................................................................................ 67 CHAPTER FOUR: UK Field Trip: En Plein Air and the English Garden Introduction........................................................................................................... 68 Hyde Park and Kensington Garden ....................................................................... 69 Cliveden House: The Long Garden ....................................................................... 70 Cliveden House: The Parterre Garden ................................................................... 73 Compton Verney: Brown’s England ..................................................................... 74   Uplands House: Cotswolds.................................................................................... 77   Study for View of the Artist’s Garden................................................................... 78   Uplands House Garden Panorama ......................................................................... 79 Conclusion ............................................................................................................ 84   CHAPTER FIVE: Two Key Gardens i. The Everglades ..................................................................................................... 85 Introduction............................................................................................................ 85 The Garden’s Beginnings ...................................................................................... 86 First Encounters ..................................................................................................... 87 Back From the Cotswolds...................................................................................... 94 Looking Into Light................................................................................................. 97 The Golden Pond ................................................................................................... 97   ii. Rowan’s Garden ............................................................................................... 102 Introduction ......................................................................................................... 102 Formal Consideration ......................................................................................... 103 A World Set Apart .............................................................................................. 105   vi   CHAPTER SIX: Three Key Works Introduction ......................................................................................................... 108 i. Key Work One: Headdress Looking Through Shadows ............................... 109 Light, Shadow and Metaphor ............................................................................ 113   ii. View From the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station ............................................ 116 Outside the Garden Looking In ......................................................................... 120 The Challenges of En Plein Air .......................................................................... 121 Inside Looking Out ........................................................................................... 122 iii. Cherry Doughnut, Kingswood, Western Sydney ......................................... 125 iv. Springwood Paintings...................................................................................... 130 Introduction ............................................................................................................ 130 Winter Dogwood .................................................................................................... 130 The Stage ................................................................................................................ 132 A Split View .......................................................................................................... 136 Big Autumn ........................................................................................................... 137 CONCLUSION .................................................................................................... 141 Appendix i. The Story of the Broad-leafed Bottle Tree from Stuart’s Creek .................... 147 BIBLIOGRAPHY Works Cited ....................................................................................................... 149 Additional Reading ............................................................................................ 152   vii   The Artist’s Garden: Reshaping the Landscape Abstract This practice-led research in painting investigates the artist’s garden tradition and explores formal aspects and distinctive features of garden culture which I have observed in Australia and in England. My relationship to my own garden and my reflections on the processes of gardening are central to this project. I discuss the philosophical and conceptual underpinnings of my relationship with gardening and describe the processes of making garden landscape paintings of a variety of garden types, ranging from large formal English estate gardens visited on fieldwork, to much smaller private gardens in places such as Newcastle, Moree and the Blue Mountains. Parallels are drawn between the art of gardening and the art of painting. The resulting body of work includes numerous en plein air paintings as well as large- scale studio paintings, and I discuss the practical and aesthetic issues involved in working between these two modes. Two key artist gardeners feature for discussion and analysis: John Glover and Stanley Spencer. My reflections on garden design traditions and gardening as a practice have been informed by several valuable texts, two of the most significant are Robert Pogue Harrison’s Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition which gives a broad-ranging philosophical account of our human connection to gardens; and the collection of writings compiled in The Genius of Place: The English Landscape Garden, edited by John Dixon Hunt and Peter Willis, which gave me a better understanding of the development of the English garden landscape.   viii   List of Illustrations All images not otherwise attributed are the author’s own work Fig. 1. Autumn View from the Garden, Bundanon (2000) oil on canvas, 80cm x 80cm, Private collection. Fig. 2. View of the pines and pepper tree outside my studio (2013) (my photograph). Fig. 3: The Flower Clock garden at Sydney’s Taronga Zoo, (2012) (my photograph). Fig. 4: By comparison, a very different type of garden in Bathurst NSW, (2013) (my photograph). Fig. 5. The Urn, Rowan's Garden, (2011), Oil on canvas, 52cm x 38cm. Fig. 6. William Gilpin, Observations on the River Wye, 2nd ED. 1789), facing pg. 39. https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/ron/2000-n20-n20/005949ar/ (accessed 2 January 2017). Fig. 7. Humphrey Repton, unrealised ‘Gardenesque’ designs fashionable at the close of the1800s.: The Red Book. Fig. 8. Compton Verney, Warwickshire, (my photograph). Fig. 9. Study, View of the Artist’s Garden, Hillston, (2010). Oil on canvas, 38 x 156 cm. Private collection. Fig. 10. Framed by Pines, Compton Verney, (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 11. Dusk, Looking Through Big Pines, (2012). Oil on canvas, 124 x 69cm. Fig. 12. Two Hedged Pines, Gold, (2010). Oil on canvas, 38 x 52cm. Private collection. Fig. 13. Australian Picturesque, Boolooroo Station, (2010). Oil on board, 22.5 x 30cm. Private collection. Fig. 14. Through Big Pines / Compton Verney, (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40cm x 30cm. Private collection Fig. 15. Study for Inside Hedges, Looking out, (2012). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38cm. Private collection. Fig. 16. Rosemary Lang, groundspeed (Red Piazza) #4, (2001). Type C photograph edition 15. Art Gallery of New South Wales. https://www.artgallery.nsw.gov.au/collection/works/451.2001/ (accessed 2 January 2017).   ix   Fig. 17. Joan Ross, (2013). Touching other people’s butterflies, 2013, Still from single channel digital video animation, colour, sound. Museum of Contemporary Art, Sydney. https://www.mca.com.au/collection/work/2015.7/ (accessed 5 December 2016). Fig. 18. Andy Goldsworthy, (1985, 15th September) Large Fallen Oak Tree, Jenny Noble’s Gill, Dumfriesshire. http://sketch42blog.com/2015/07/nils-udo-the-artist-of-the-earth/ (accessed 5 December 2016). Fig. 19. Andy Goldsworthy, (1987, 1st May). Dandelion Flowers, Yorkshire Sculpture Park, West Bretton. https://au.pinterest.com/jlmaffett/artist-andy- goldsworthy/ (accessed 5 December 2016). Fig. 20. (Illustration 1) Depicted in: Two Expeditions into the interior of South Australia, Vol 1, entitled; Native Burial Place, Near Budda. http://gutenberg.net.au/ebooks/e00059.html (accessed 21 January 2017). Fig. 21. G. E. Evans, The Grave of a Native of Australia, Published in John Oxley’s Journals of Two Expedition into the Interior … in 1820. https://www.nla.gov.au/digital-classroom/year-8/themes/features-and-values (accessed 21 January 2017). Fig. 22. View Past Shadows, Rowan’s Garden, (2011). Oil on canvas, 85 x 65cm. Private collection. Fig. 23. John Glover, A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land (1835). Art Gallery of South Australia, https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:John Glover__A_view_of_the_artist's_house_and_garden,_in_Mills_Plains,_Van_Dieme n's_Land_-_Google_Art_Project.jpg. (accessed 2 January 2017). Fig. 24. John Glover, Hobart Town taken From My Garden Where I lived. (1832). Dixon Galleries, State Library of New South Wales, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/File:Hobart_Town_John_Glover1832.jpg. (accessed 2 January 2017). Fig. 25. John Glover, A View of Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land, (1833). Art Gallery of South Australia, http://nga.gov.au/exhibition/turnertomonet/Detail.cfm?IRN=128980. (accessed 2 January 2017). Fig. 26. John Glover, Detail from John Glover’s sketchbook (1834?) Landscape with trees; Glover's house and garden picture.2 drawings: pen, ink and wash; on sheet 17.8 x 26.5 cm. National Library of Australia, http://nla.gov.au/nla.obj- 138920290/view (accessed 2 January 2017). Fig. 27. John Glover, A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land, (1835). Compositional diagram created to illustrate the emphasis   x   Glover placed on the repeating triangular shape within the picture frame. I contend that this painting on first impressions appears to be quite simple in its format but on closer reading it reveals its many complexities. Fig. 28. A View of the Artist’s Garden, Hillston, Springwood, (2011). Oil on canvas, 138 x 360 cm. Private collection. Fig. 29. Joseph Lycett, The Residence of John Macarthur Esq. near Parramatta, New South Wales, (1825) hand coloured aquatint. National Gallery of Australia. http://artsearch.nga.gov.au/Detail.cfm?IRN=34524 (accessed 2 January 2017). Fig. 30. John Glover, My Harvest Home, (1835). Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery. http://nga.gov.au/exhibitions/newWorlds/Kit.cfm (accessed 2 January 2017). Fig. 31. John Glover, Natives at a Corrobory, under the Wild Woods of the Country, (1835), Mitchell Library, State Library of New South Wales, http://archival- classic.sl.nsw.gov.au/item/itemPopLarger.aspx?itemid=404665. (accessed 2 January 2017). Fig. 32. John Constable, Golding Constable’s Kitchen Garden, (1815). Oil on canvas, Colchester and Ipswich Museum Service collection, https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2015/jun/16/constables-gardens-review- john-constable-paintings-christchurch-mansion-ipswich. (accessed 9 September 2016). Fig. 33. Alfred Parson, Orange Lillies, date unknown (exhibited in Feb 1909). http://www.artnet.com/artists/alfred-william-parsons/past-auction-results (accessed 23 November 2016). Fig. 34. Stanley Spencer, Zacharias and Elizabeth, (1913–1914). Oil on canvas, 152.4 x 152.4 cm, Purchased jointly with Sheffield Galleries & Museums Trust with assistance from the National Lottery through the Heritage Lottery Fund, the Art Fund, the Friends of the Tate Gallery, Howard and Roberta Ahmanson and private benefactors 1999. http://www.tate.org.uk/art/artworks/spencer-zacharias- and-elizabeth-t07486 (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 35. Stanley Spencer, By the River, (1935). Oil on canvas, 113 x 182.9 cm, University College London. https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/by-the-river-42439 (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 36: Stanley Spencer, Bellrope Meadow, (1936). Oil on canvas, 90.2 x 130.8 cm, Rockdale Art Gallery, England. https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/bellrope-meadow-cookham-berkshire-90311 (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 37. Stanley Spencer, Stinging Nettles (1926). Oil on canvas, 63.5 x 79.5 cm, Private collection. http://www.artnet.com/artists/sir-stanley-spencer/stinging-nettles- z2Nv_cIkpowOytn9oObMkw2 (accessed 23 November 2016).   xi   Fig. 38. Stanley Spencer, The Bridle Path, Cookham (1938). Oil on canvas, 71.7 x 94 cm. Private collection. http://www.artnet.com/artists/sir-stanley-spencer/the- bridle-path-cookham-ipNMd-A2GoiAph6C5Pv3vw2. (accessed 23 November 2016). Fig. 38. Stanley Spencer, Cookham Rise, (1938). Oil on canvas, 63.5 x 79.5 cm, ttps://www.wikiart.org/en/stanley-spencer/cookham-rise-1935. (accessed 23 November 2016). Fig. 40. Stanley Spencer, Magnolia (1938). Fig. 41. Stanley Spencer, The Jubilee Tree, Cookham, (1936). Fig. 42. Stanley Spencer, Landscape in North Wales, (1938) Fig. 43. Golden Shadows, Hillston, (2012). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Private collection. Fig. 44. Stanley Spencer, The Garden, Cookham Rise, Oil on canvas, 45.7 x 70 cm, Art Gallery and Museum, Leamington Spa. (1952).https://www.wikiart.org/en/stanley-spencer/cookham-rise-1935 (accessed 23 November 2016). Fig. 45. Detail section from Study, Autumn Hillston, (2011). Fig. 46. Detail section from Stanley Spencer’s, Landscape in North Wales, (1938). Fig. 47. Detail section showing the coverage and density of the surface of Golden Shadows, Hillston, (2012). Fig. 48, 49, 50, Detail sections from Golden Shadows, Hillston, (2012). Fig. 51. Uplands House, The Flower Urn, (2011). Oil on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 52, 53, 54. Golden Shadows, Hillston, (2012). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Private collection. Fig. 55. Ornamental Sunken Garden at Kensington Gardens, (my photograph). Fig. 56. Hedged form, Kensington Gardens, (my photograph). Fig. 57. The Pine, Hyde Park (2011). Oil on canvas, 30 x 40 cm. Fig. 58. Oak and Hedge, Kensington Gardens (2011). Oil on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 59. Oaks, Hyde Park (2011). Oil on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 60. Bird in the Long Garden (2011). Oil on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Private collection. Fig. 61. The Darleks, Cliveden House, Long Garden (2011). Oil on canvas, 40 x 30 cm.   xii   Fig. 62. Right: Topiary Bird, Long Garden Cliveden House (2011-12). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Fig. 63. Parterre Garden, Cliveden House (2011) Oil on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 64. View from the Parterre Garden, Cliveden House, (2011). Oil on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 65. & 66. Circular forms implemented in Springwood in 2013 – 2014. Fig. 67. Framed by Cedars, Compton Verney, (2011). Oil on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Private collection. Fig. 68. Right: Through Big Pines / Compton Verney, (2011). Oil on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Private collection. Fig. 69. Uplands House Garden Panorama (2011) Oil on canvas, 38 x 208 cm. Private collection. Fig. 70. Study for View of the Artists Garden, Hillston (2011) Oil on canvas, 38 x 104 cm. Private collection. Fig. 71. Stanley Spencer, Bellrope Meadow, (1936). Oil on canvas, 90.2 x 130.8 cm, Rockdale Art Gallery, England. https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/bellrope-meadow-cookham-berkshire-90311 (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 72. Stanley Spencer, Rock Roses, Old Lodge, Taplow (1957) Oil on canvas, 70 x 40 cm, Private collection. https://www.wikiart.org/en/stanley- spencer/rock-roses-old-lodge-taplow-1957 (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 73. Poppy’s Rose Garden, Uplands House (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Private collection. Fig. 74. The Urn, Rowan's Garden (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 75. The Flower Urn, Uplands House (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 76. Two Flower Urns, Uplands House (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 77. Stanley Spencer, Wisteria, Cookham (1942). Fig. 78. Red Hot Pokers / Uplands House (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 79. Stanley Spencer, Red Magnolias (1938). Fig. 80. Pines, King Edward Park, Newcastle, (2011), acrylic on board 22.5cm x 28cm. Fig. 81. Monument, The Everglades (2012). Oil on canvas, 110 x 75 cm. Queensland University of Technology, Brisbane.   xiii   Fig. 82. Horticulturist and Landscape Garden designer Paul Sorensen. Fig. 83. Study for Inside Hedges, Looking Out (2012). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Private collection. Fig. 84. Study for Monument, The Everglades (2012). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Private collection. Fig. 85. Casper David Friedrich, Garden Terrace, (1811-12) Oil on canvas, 53.5 x 70 cm. http://poulwebb.blogspot.com.au/2013/04/caspar- david-friedrich-part-1.html (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 86. Eugene von Guérard, Weatherboard Creek Falls, Jamieson's Valley, New South Wales (1862), Oil on canvas, 122.1 x 183.3 cm. National Gallery of Victoria, Melbourne. http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/explore/collection/work/5032/ (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 87. Five Pines, The Everglades (2012) Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Private collection. Fig. 88. Detail view of iron stone wall at The Everglades (2012). (my photograph). Fig. 89. The series of angled hedged pines which feature of the central terrace and that were the focus of my time at The Everglades (2012). Fig. 90. Looking into Light, The Everglades (2012). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Private collection. Fig. 91. Golden Pond, The Everglades (2012-13). Oil on canvas, 80 x 65 cm. Fig. 92. Pine and Hedges, Rowan’s Garden (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Fig. 93. Inside Looking Through at the Rowan's (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Private collection. Fig. 94. The parterre garden at Cliveden House, Buckinghamshire, is one of the largest examples in Britain, which I was to paint later that year (Oct 2011). The garden on the front lawn at Cliveden is in the 19th Century Revival style, which differs slightly from the original 15th Century French Renaissance garden or the more elaborate 17th Century Baroque style. Fig. 95. Stanley Spencer, Clipped Yews (1935) Oil on canvas, 76.2 x 50.8 cm. Aberdeen Art Gallery. https://www.wikiart.org/en/stanley-spencer/clipped-yews- 1935 (accessed 4 July 2016). Fig. 96. Stanley Spencer, Monkey Puzzle Tree, Northern Ireland (1952) Oil on canvas, 50.8 x 61.3 cm. Carrick Hill Trust, Adelaide. http://www.carrickhill.sa.gov.au/the-story/artworks/the-monkey-puzzle-tree- northern-ireland (accessed 11 August 2016).   xiv   Fig. 97. The Entrance, Rowan's Garden (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 110 x 75 cm. Private collection. Fig. 98. The Lawn, Rowan's Garden (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 30 x 40 cm. Fig. 99. Four Pines, Rowan's Garden (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Private collection. Fig. 100. Headdress, Looking Through Shadows (2011). Oil on canvas, 110 x 75 cm. Private collection. Fig. 101. Caspar David Friedrich’s, The Cemetery (Churchyard Gates) (1825). Oilon canvas, Kunsthalie Bremen, Bremen. http://www.19thc-artworldwide.org/spring12/whittington-on-caspar-david- friedrichs-medieval-burials (accessed 1 August 2015). Fig. 102. Stanley Spencer, Greenhouse and Gardens (1937). Oil on canvas, 76.2 x 50.8 cm. Ferens Art Gallery Hull. https://artuk.org/discover/artworks/greenhouse-and-garden-78287 (accessed 1 August 2015). Fig. 103. Stanley Spencer, A Gate, Yorkshire (1928). Oil on canvas, 51 x 40.5 cm, Private collection. http://poboh.tumblr.com/post/33012908733 (accessed 15 August 2015). Fig. 104. John Constable RA, Study of the Trunk of an Elm Tree (1821). Oil on paper, 30.6 x 24.8 cm. Victorian and Albert Museum. http://collections.vam.ac.uk/item/O16555/study-of-the-trunk-of-oil-painting-john- constable/ (accessed 15 August 2015). Fig. 105. Study for View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station (2011). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Private collection. Fig. 106. View of Stuart’s Creek Station, (Rain Coming) (2014). Oil on canvas, 180 x 138 cm. Private collection. Fig. 107. John Glover, Mount Wellington with Orphan Asylum, van Dieman’s Land (1837). Oil on canvas, 76.5 x 114.2 cm, National Gallery of Victoria. http://www.ngv.vic.gov.au/explore/collection/work/5630/ (accessed on 2 July 2015). Fig. 108. Pierre Patels, The Palace of Versailles (1668). Oil on canvas, 115 x 161, Musee du Chateau Versailles cm.https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Chateau_de_Versailles_1668_Pierre_P atel.jpg (accessed 1 September 2016). Fig. 109. The Ivy Tree, Cotswolds (2011). Acrylic on canvas, 40 x 30 cm. Private collection. Fig. 110. The Kitten Tree, Hillston (2011). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm.   xv   Fig. 111. View from the Remnant Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station (2011). Oil on canvas, 38 x 208 cm. Private collection. Fig. 112. Uplands House Garden Panorama (2011). Oil on canvas, 38 x 208 cm. Fig. 113. Cherry Doughnut, Kingswood, Western Sydney (2011). Oil on canvas, 180 x 138 cm. Private collection. Fig. 114. Casper David Friedrich, Trees and Bushes in Snow (1828). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. New Masters Gallery, Dresden. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Caspar_David_Friedrich_- _Geb%C3%BCsch_im_Schnee.jpg (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 115. The rare Italian Garden at Chillingham Castle in England. http://www.chillingham-castle.com/Castle.asp?S=2&V=1&P=16 (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 116. On a much smaller scale, suburban formalism on display in Brisbane. (my photograph). Fig. 117. Camellia Head, Blue Pool and Shadows, (2013). Oil on canvas, 110 x 75 cm. Fig. 118. Dogwood Before Dark (2012). ). Oil on canvas, 110 x 75 cm. Private collection. Fig. 119. Surface detail of Dogwood Before Dark (2012) Fig. 120. Jan van Eyck’s The Madonna and Chancellor Rolin (1425) Oil on panel, 66 x 62 cm. Louvre Museum. https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Jan_van_Eyck_070_Virgin_of_Chancellor _Rolin_adj.jpg (accessed 18 October 2016). Fig. 121. i, ii, iii. Dusk, Looking Through Big Pines (2012). illustrates the key elements of the composition. Fig. 122. Winter Dogwood (2011). Oil on canvas, 85 x 65 cm. Fig. 123. Winter Shadows and Camellias (2011-12) Oil on canvas, 85 x 65 cm. Fig. 124. Split View, Hedge and Pine (2011). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Private collection. Fig. 125. Big Autumn (2012–13). Oil on canvas, 138 x 360 cm. Fig. 126. View of the Artist’s Garden, Hillston (2011). Oil on canvas, 138 x 560 cm. Private collection. Fig. 127. Under the Pepper Tree, Hillston (2011). Oil on canvas, 52 x 38 cm. Private collection.   1   Introduction Prologue The creation of a garden, like the creation of a painting, is an act of anticipation, an expression of optimism that draws together the past and the present in a continuum of ideas, activity, meaning and, in the case of gardens, life. Although physical, these creative activities hold memories and thus can be psychological as well as physiological. In the purest sense, as a gardener and painter I gain immense satisfaction and fulfilment from caring for plants and seeing something I’ve planted grow, or from seeing a finished image emerge from the seed of an idea. To locate the main theme of this study it is important to record my own convictions and to give voice to what I believe a garden to be, particularly in relation to landscape painting and the Australian context. The following quote partly expresses those beliefs: “Planting a garden is an act of anticipation. It is also an act of memory and settlement: those who make a garden look back to recollected forms and forward to new growth that will become a special kind of place”.1 At the time of the European settlement of Australia, “territorial improvement”2 and the Western ideology of man’s dominance over nature were presiding philosophies in the culture of landscape gardening. This exegesis and the associated works, founded on a fascination with gardens and their cultural significance, should be read alongside and contexualised by the fact that Australian gardens must be viewed as contested ground and a continuing act of settlement and dispossession. ! ! ! ! This practice-led research investigates the relationship between the artist and the constructed garden to understand the mimetic shaping of nature and its direct compositional relevance to pictorial design, composition and space. This project explores the subject of gardens as a genre in landscape painting and examines styles of depiction and interpretation. While I appreciate that gardens and their traditions                                                                                                                 1 Katie Holmes, Susan K. Martin, and Kylie Mirmohamadi, Reading the Garden: The Settlement of Australia (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2008), 3. 2 Ibid., 3.     2   which have been implemented in Australia since European settlement are a manifestation of cultural imperialism and mask a history of violence and dispossession, this has not been the core focus of this research. My focus for this study has been to spend time creating paintings, actively gardening, studying different gardens and to concentrate my efforts on an exploration of the parallels between the practice of gardening and painting and their interrelated interactions. Exploring more current forms of garden culture in England and Australia, this study includes an analysis of the Picturesque—its development, overarching ideology, translocation to Australia, and diffused but persistent manifestation within a contemporary context. The nexus between painting and gardening is significant in my life and their joint creative practices. The subject matter of my painting dramatically shifted after a move from the confinement of the inner suburbs of Sydney to a relatively substantial garden in Springwood in the Blue Mountains of New South Wales. Throughout my art practice I have painted a wide variety of gardens, but this relocation to the Blue Mountains supported greater focus and a sustained, immediate, and enveloping relationship with the landscape along with a greater awareness of the order imposed on the natural environment. In the past I painted gardens that possessed what I perceived to be quite distinctive, idiosyncratic characteristics as I travelled to different parts of the country looking for subject matter. An example of this is the grey, twisted trees and bare-leafed branches depicted in Autumn View from the Garden, Bundanon (2000) (fig.1). Often, these subjects have been gardens found on the fringe of suburbia, farming properties, or Fig. 1. Autumn View from the Garden, Bundanon (2000)     3   even views of a car park with an attached garden. With the relocation to the Blue Mountains, my own garden as subject was just beyond the studio door. The move from Sydney allowed for a deep interest in landscape painting and gardening to extend into growing my own produce. This more active relationship with the landscape brought me into closer proximity to a less urbanised and more fundamental connection to the natural world. This geographical change, made largely for economic reasons, resulted in a profound shift—a physical and philosophical attachment to my garden in Springwood that has now become an extended and ongoing process of research. The parallels between gardening and painting In the preliminary stages of the research project, the paintings I produced depicted different garden styles and prompted me to more broadly consider, alongside the garden as a subject for painting, the philosophical underpinnings of gardens as constructions by designer-makers, and as products of the creative process. This also inspired a curiosity as to the many practical and visual commonalities that exist between gardening and painting. As part of my practice-led research I explore an appreciation of gardens for their composition and their aesthetics, and consider more specifically how elements incorporated into their design inform and relate to the formal elements within a painting. These formal considerations led to what was to become of central importance to this project – my exploration and articulation of the parallels between gardening and painting. These parallels can be defined by several factors: aesthetic (or appearance- based) considerations such as style, composition and colour; cultural considerations such as the environment and politics; more esoteric considerations relating to our imagination and sense of mystery; and practical considerations such as the material quality that contributes to their creation and, in the case of gardens, their care and maintenance. Whilst these categories are overlapping, I will focus on the power of our imagination and aesthetic and practical considerations as they relate directly to my practices of both painting and gardening. The power of imagination   4   It could be argued that at their very centre both paintings and gardens are products of our imagination and owe their existence and expression to the mind. What informs the creation of paintings and gardens is our ability for imagining and visualising mental pictures or complex concepts of what is not actually there but is understood through our experiences and by our senses. Links between painting and gardening are reinforced by the notion that the imagination has “the power of reproducing images stored in the memory under the suggestion of associated images”.3 This view of imagination also goes to the concept that both gardens and painting express not just ideas and cultural visualisations but evoke in us a sense of mystery. This theory is conveyed by the notion that gardens, and I would argue paintings, are “an epiphany of man’s relationship with mystery” and that “this relationship is [their] meaning”.4 Aesthetic consideration: Composition When analysing a painting—its framing—the choice of what is inside or outside of the picture frame is what defines its artifice. It is also a combination of the internal structural elements (the content) and what lies outside the frame that defines its composition and crucially contributes to its meaning. Again, it is our “relationship with mystery”5 and the imaginative potential of what lies outside the frame that helps explain this expression of meaning. We can draw similar parallels with what lies outside of a garden and the notion of painting a garden from the inside looking out. The recurring idea that gardens rely on enclosure to define their existence also suggests the all-importance of that divide. Gardens, while considered to be emblematic of nature, mark their separation from nature through their enclosure. This separation is only fleeting, as our imagination and sense of mystery along with the cultural weight that gardens hold is at the same time informed by what lies outside its perimeter. Equally gardens and paintings are cultural manifestations; both are grounded in composition, both are defined by a physical and imaginary framework, both are cultivated and informed by taste, both can be appreciated, both are highly subjective in terms of their symbolic meaning, both express variety in                                                                                                                 3 http://www.dictionary.com/browse/imagination?s=t (accessed on 4 January, 2017). 4 Robert Pogue Harrison, Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2008), 20. 5 Ibid., 145.   5   their many different forms, and both are recursive, involving repetition and the application of a set aesthetic principles relying on successive results. Looking and awareness Painting, and particularly painting en plein air, has many parallels to the art of gardening—it demands adaptability and it requires you to really look and to analyse what is seen. It also requires practical adjustments such as working on site, adapting to conditions of light, geography, and weather, choosing the right tools for the job, and an understanding of processes and material. Compositionally, gardens also present many parallels and are sometimes referred to as living sculpture. In the creation of a garden many compositional elements are open for consideration: colour, leaf tone and texture, the shaping and manipulation of plants, and planting that influences scale or foliage density. There is also the opportunity to define particular areas, feature plants through repetition and pattern making, or use plants to redefine landfall or frame vistas as an aid to point to what lies beyond the confines of any garden; in essence, this is the making of a picture in the form of a garden. As part of my gardening practice, as in my painting practice, I go looking. Habitually, each morning I go into the garden and do the rounds, checking for the prevalence of bees, sooty mould, and soil moisture, and monitor weeds, grasses, new buds that may be appearing, leaf formations, plant health, aphids, red rust, and evaluate the overall appearance. This process often occurs several times a day. This active looking keeps me in tune with the garden and the flow of nature and also provides critical information that contributes to my developing knowledge. I monitor plant health and gauge my potential responses, all of which is underpinned by a preoccupation with the aesthetics of the garden. I also make observations in relation to time and the seasons. Specific plants, I’ve discovered through looking, are more acute indicators of time and change. The red dogwood for example is always the first plant to show autumn colour. Materiality Material qualities are core to the realisation of paintings and gardens, and carry century upon century of development, practice, and theoretical interpretation. Gardeners prune, hedge, dig, rake, mulch, top-dress, weed, dead-head, compost, and   6   plant. Painters on the other hand brush, blend, model, glaze, under-paint, over-paint, stipple, scumble, scrape, block-in, wash, layer, and drip. All are actions and all connect the material quality with the process and the physical and aesthetic outcome. Whilst this is an obvious parallel, the materiality is intrinsic to both art forms. The most obvious of all is earth—soil and pigment. When gardeners describes soil they use words such as richness, texture, humus, sandy, or loam, or refer to colours such as black, brown, or red. When a painter describes paint they use words such as viscosity, translucency, opaqueness, transparency, or fluidity. Paintings and gardens as art forms possess the ability to convey meaning, either implied or meaning of more explicit significance. The materiality, what is used and how it is used, in the creation of paintings or gardens is fundamental to engaging the view and evoking a response. Historically, paintings like gardens have given expression to ideas through their various forms. The distinctly human act of transforming everyday materials such as pigment, canvas, soil, and plants into cultural expression and works of art is grounded in the material practice that binds the physical, emotional, and intellectual experience. The material presence of a painting, the paint surface—its textures, colours, types of marks, finish, and refinement—exists in its own right and can prolong and reinforce effect, which in turn can contribute significantly to viewer engagement. When soil, an amalgamation of minerals, rock particles like sand and clay, organic matter, and micro-organisms, is identified, developed, and employed in the creation of a garden, it becomes more than just soil. It is the conduit for not just the physical well-being of the plants but a crucial determinant in evoking aesthetic experience. Its health, exuberance, tones, colours, and textures of the outward appearance—its physicality—like the surface of a painting affects our perception and response to what we see. Techniques (the types of marks, how a painting is painted or a garden is planted) also affect the material and expressive quality of their particular genre. My initial study highlighted other shared qualities conveyed through the practice of gardening and painting such as form, structure and format, colour in combination with material qualities like texture, and the framing of views. The implementation of these shared qualities relies upon and is enhanced by sustained observation, and all   7   are qualities that contribute to a garden’s potentiality as a subject for art. This exploration of the parallels between gardening and painting have given rise to further questions: What could my engagement with gardening contribute to my practice as a painter? What could my painting practice contribute to my understanding and practice as a gardener? These questions are practical and philosophical and could be explained by Paul Cézanne’s conviction that art existed as a “harmony in parallel with nature”.6 This belief fits with a more universal notion that gardeners, like landscape painters, work together with nature and in cooperation with it. The conviction in a shared purpose and parallel harmony works in conjunction with a gardener or painter’s desire to make real their ideas. This also points to Edenic notions, a garden’s other- worldliness being conjured in our minds, and what Cézanne professed—“Art must imbue [nature] with eternity in our imagination”.7 Unlike Cézanne, my paintings are concerned with capturing moments in time and exploring the atmospherics expressed by time, given the formal qualities of gardens. I have been conscious of the transitory nature of gardens and the need to find structure within the tradition of painting. Henning suggests that Cézanne’s “aim was to give stability to such ephemeral images through the formal structure of his compositions and thus to rescue them from their transience”.8 This idea of making the living live on via paintings is realised by the paintings I have produced for this research. My garden in Springwood, originally known as Forrest Home, was first planted in the late 1880s. It was the second house on Bee Farm Road, the first being attached to the original bee farm. According to land registry records it has had six different owners since then who have each in their own way left their mark on the garden. Prior to white settlement this land belonged to the Darug and Gundungurra peoples; Springwood was the acknowledged dividing ridge line between these two Nations. The garden in its current form is approximately 7000 square metres in size and sits on a ridge above Sassafras Gully, backed by what is now the World Heritage Blue                                                                                                                 6  Mareike Hennig, et al., The Painter’s Garden: Design, Inspiration, Delight (Hatje Cantz Verlag, Zeppelinstrasse 32, Ostfildern, Germany, 2002), 266.   7  Ibid. 8  Ibid.     8   Mountains National Park. Its type could be described as a typical semi-formal Blue Mountains garden in the English style, a style that sits at the nexus between my interest in reshaped landscape gardens and Australia’s landscape painting tradition. The garden’s position is both complicated and enriched by its location on the edge of the national park, a situation that embodies recurring themes in my paintings such as nature transposed, the imposition of an ‘alien’ style, and the creation of boundaries or a sense of enclosure. It is important to note that gardens such as mine extend over time, embodying the imposition of an English landscape aesthetic and existing as a signifier to the dispossession of the indigenous population. There are two main strands to this project. The first strand is formed by the paintings of my own garden, which explore the garden’s context and form, my philosophical and physical connection to it, and its relation to my painting practice. The second strand consists of paintings I have produced of other gardens in Australia and England. The English paintings explore the English garden landscape tradition and its cultural context; the Australian garden paintings explore the way that the English landscape tradition has been adopted and transplanted into this landscape. For me, in all their forms, gardens are pictorially accessible and versatile in terms of the creation of an associated painted image, but it is a garden’s context—its boundary or enclosure—that holds the key to expressing meaning. Early on in my research it became clear I needed to ask: what is a garden? In The Garden of Ideas, Richard Aitken writes that “gardens have a profound significance to humankind. They have universal values as repositories of cultivated plants, Fig. 2. View of the pines and pepper tree outside my studio (2013)     9   maintained using the skills of horticulture and order through diverse processes bound by tradition and innovation”.9 Those words—diverse processes bound by tradition and innovation—directly mirror what I understand of my own painting practice, which could be characterised as an acknowledgement of the tension that always exists within painting between tradition and innovation. If you believe in ongoing traditions and that “human culture has its origin in stories, and its ongoing history is one of endless storytelling”,10 then it is fair to say that garden culture (nature rearranged) and our relationship with plants are an important part of the human narrative. The types of plants, the various climates, how different plants grow, and the way they are ordered in nature is woven into our understanding of place. Indeed, we rely on nature for our very existence. Our understanding of place is also greatly affected by prevailing social, political, and environmental issues, as well as historical considerations. Understandings of what constitutes a garden differ widely; style, choice of plants, level of detail, and scale all contribute to a garden’s difference and intent. My fascination with gardens and their potential as a subject for painting is founded in this difference—a difference explained by the gardens shown in figures 3 and 4. The Shorter Oxford English Dictionary describes a garden as “an enclosed piece of ground devoted to the cultivation of flowers, fruit or vegetables”.11 Philosopher and art historian Mara Miller’s definition includes the elements, proposing that a garden is “any purposeful arrangement of natural objects … with exposure to the sky or open air in which the form is not fully accounted for by purely practical considerations such as convenience”.12                                                                                                                 9 Richard Aitken, The Garden of Ideas: Four Centuries of Australian Style (The Miegunyah Press in association with the State Library of Victoria, 2010), ix. 10  Robert Pogue Harrison, Gardens: An Essay on the Human condition (The University of Chicago Press, 2008) 83.   11 Shorter Oxford English Dictionary, 5th edition (William R. Trumble and Angus Stevenson, eds.) (2002). 12 David E. Cooper, A Philosophy of Gardens (Oxford University Press), 13.   10   The links between painting and gardening led me to consider several practical and philosophical questions. In purely practical terms, gardeners garden and painters paint. The practice of gardening may require one to weed or to break up old pavers in order to create a new flowerbed—both constitute gardening. The practice of painting, likewise, may require the sketching out of an idea in a visual diary or the building of a stretcher-frame—both are painting activities. These examples illustrate that both practices are bound, not just by physical activity or diverse processes, but by their material manifestations. Philosophically each of us read gardens in our own way—one way may be as a mirror of their owner’s power, another may be as a “token of the enslavement of nature”13 or, more simply, as an expression of our relationship with nature. These ideas further connect with some of the questions that arose as part of my practice-led research: • How and in what way do nature and culture intersect in the context of gardens and paintings? • How might I experiment with methods to build the physicality of my paint surface, trial formats, and experiment with material changes to heighten compositional structure to develop more coherent bodies of work? I have also considered the historical development of the English garden and western landscape painting tradition from Tudor gardens to knot gardens and parterre gardens to picturesque parkscapes. This encompassed the evolution of the various                                                                                                                 13 Cooper, A Philosophy of Gardens, 113.   Fig. 3. The Flower Clock garden at Sydney’s Taronga Zoo (2012) Fig. 4. By comparison, a very different type of garden in Bathurst NSW (2013)     11   forms and pictorial renditions of these traditions. This study led to themes relating to the development of the Picturesque in England and its transference to Australia, including an examination of the landscape works of English artist Stanley Spencer and the diffusion of the Picturesque aesthetic over time and within contemporary practice. In turn, this study prompted other questions relating to my art practice. How might I engage with the formal conventions and attributes gardens are endowed with to convey a sense of transformation, given that gardens represent nature re-imagined? Given that gardens are places of reflection, how can I best translate the atmospheric qualities that gardens express into the illusionistic, material language of painting? Many of the questions and ideas in this research emerged slowly as a result of my analysis of different texts and my constant gardening in combination with the experimentation that occurred through fieldwork and studio practice. ! ! ! !   This exegesis consists of six chapters, all of which explore quite distinct yet related subject matter. The order and underlying narrative of these topics has been designed to best mirror the pathway taken throughout this project. I produced a body of work that consisted of 265 paintings that resulted in four separate solo exhibitions, one of which was a concluding exhibition held at the ANU in Canberra in March 2016. Chapter One explores several interconnected themes that include the development and dissemination of the Picturesque, its depiction, ideology, and cultural semblance. In order to appreciate what was to become the cult of the Picturesque I examine key voices who articulated the aesthetic principles of the Picturesque and promoted their adoption in various forms. As a frame of reference I explore some of the key events that drove the changes in taste and the links that were made between gardens, art, and nature. In the lead up to the formal pronouncement of the Picturesque I explore the significance of the landscape gardener Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown, purveyor of the ideal English parkscape. His influence and the implementation of this type of garden is discussed through the frame of paintings I produced at a Brownian designed garden, Compton Verney, in Buckinghamshire in 2011. The Picturesque is then discussed in a contemporary context through an analysis of works by three   12   different artists working in the field: Australian photographer Rosemary Lang, Australian mixed-media artist Joan Ross, and British sculptor-photographer Andy Goldsworthy. These artists, two Australian and one British, have been chosen to illustrate the persistence, diversity, and contemporaneousness of the axiom of the Picturesque. I conclude the chapter with a personal account and acknowledgement of Aboriginal dispossession and a review of the existence of Aboriginal memorial gardens documented by early white explorers and the shared cultural practices of the constructed garden landscape. Chapter Two continues to explore the development of the Picturesque through an examination of European garden culture, its arrival and implementation in Australia by early settlers, and the paintings of colonial artist John Glover, in particular his garden painting A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, in Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land (1834–35). This chapter explores associated themes of improvement and transformation and acts of settlement related to the politics of colonisation, including the rise of notions of landscape and ornamental garden practises associated with the Picturesque. In part this chapter is a summation of the Picturesque aesthetic, the European idealism that largely defined Glover’s artistic work, and Glover’s contribution to the prolongation of the Picturesque. Chapter Three analyses several key garden landscape paintings where I outline the methodology and compositional structures employed by artist Stanley Spencer. Whilst many artists and artworks have greatly informed this study, the English garden landscapes by Spencer were not only inspirational but highly instructive in terms of how they were made, their compositional complexity, their material presence, their narrative quality including their illusionistic depth and assiduous brushwork, and their overt detail. I also define Spencer’s version of the Picturesque and his differing styles giving some context to the artistic time frame in which he worked. This is discussed in relation to the influence his work had on my own. Chapter Four discusses the field trip I undertook to the UK in September 2011 to paint firsthand the English garden landscape. This chapter charts my pictorial response to five significant and quite diverse gardens, outlines the process and logistics of painting in the field, and addresses my approach in material terms and in   13   terms of the gains in knowledge, experience, and critical reflection this process afforded me. To give some context to this study I provide a brief history and description of each garden, outlining various styles including the knot garden, the French parterre garden, the Picturesque parkscape, and the English traditional cottage garden. The five gardens are Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens in London; Cliveden House in Berkshire; Uplands House near Banbury in the Cotswold; and Compton Verney in Warwickshire. The works produced in the UK provide a crucial link to the subsequent paintings I produced of two distinctive formal gardens shortly after arriving back in Australia. In total I painted seventeen different gardens, but in Chapter Five I concentrate on two highly individualistic gardens because of their acute differences and because of the intensity of the painting experience each represented for me. Another consequential component of this research has been that, through painting a wide variety of contrasting gardens, I have been able to hone in on and apply ideas and methods relating to what I felt were the more successful works. The two gardens that are the focus of this chapter also express for me one of the parallels that exists between gardening and painting—that is, that gardens and paintings each possess the ability to offer a heightening of our visual and sensorial perception and therefore our experience. The two gardens are The Everglades, a European modernist style garden that extends over thirteen acres designed by Paul Sorenson and situated in Leura in the Blue Mountains, and a garden I call Rowans’ Garden (fig. 5), located in suburban Newcastle, NSW, that could be described as a private, extreme example of obsession—part knot garden, part Japanese garden, and part English garden. Fig. 5. The Urn, Rowan's Garden, 2011     14   Chapter Six describes my thinking and response to three key works I produced of three disparate gardens, followed by an examination of the paintings I produced of my own garden in Springwood. The three key works are explained in the order of their execution: Cherry Doughnut, Kingswood Western Sydney (2011), Headdress, Looking Through Shadows (2013), and View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station (2014). These paintings were chosen because they best express my conviction that gardens are ultimately as much a product of our imagination as they are about reality. Each distinctively portrays a sense of place and each has been individually defined by their makers. These three paintings depict Australian gardens that articulate my clearest visual understanding of transposed culture and nature re- imagined. Their differences highlight what individuals in vastly different locations and from different cultural backgrounds bring to the creation of a garden. These paintings best illustrate my overarching question of how paintings of gardens might engage with the many formal conventions and attributes of gardens themselves to communicate a sense of the transformation of landscape. They also express that otherworldly quality that some gardens and some paintings can achieve. I reiterate in broad terms the concepts raised by the many parallels between gardening and painting. I outline my understanding of these similarities and the creative (thinking) process and practical applications involved in the making of a garden and the making of paintings. These similarities are explained via a detailed examination of several key works depicting my own garden in Springwood. I also reflect on some of the changes I made to my garden and outline in detail my approaches to composition; I analyse the pictorial structures and my thought process embodied in several key works. In examining my own paintings I explore the topics of mood and atmospherics as well as ideas relating to Renaissance painting devices like the stage and the elevation of the spectator. The concluding chapter presents a reflective and critical commentary to draw the work to a close. The chapter identifies strengths and short-comings of the project, and points toward areas in need of further investigation.   15   ! ! ! ! Several key writers and their texts either informed my thinking or reinforced my understanding of this subject. I drew on Tim Bonyhady’s The Colonial Earth, in particular his detailed description of Glover’s arrival in Tasmania and the many different plants pictured in his garden; David Hansen’s contextualisation of Glover’s life, painting, and attachment to the picturesque; Robert Pogue Harrison’s Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition for his broad-ranging philosophical account of our human connection to gardens; and the collection of writings compiled in The Genius of Place: The English Landscape Garden, edited by John Dixon Hunt and Peter Willis, which gave me a better understanding of the development of the English garden landscape.   16   Chapter One: The Picturesque Landscape as Constructed Nature Introduction In this Chapter I explore the history of the Picturesque to contextualise its relationship to gardens, nature, and art. In broad terms, this research constitutes an examination of painting and gardens, and through their manifestations, histories and associations, an exploration of the intersection of nature and culture. In its broadest and most literal sense, the Picturesque means “in the manner of a picture; fit to be made into a picture”1, as it was defined in the 1703 Oxford English Dictionary and this use of the term makes the a natural connection between gardening, landscape and painting. There are many well-known historical examples of artist gardeners; two notable examples are Claude Monet (1840–1926) and Pierre Bonnard (1867–1947), both of whom were influenced by the wild gardens of English designers Gertrude Jekyll (1843– 1932) and William Robinson (1838–1935). Jekyll herself expressed the belief that “planting ground is painting a landscape with living things”.2 An earlier example that also expressed the link between painting and gardens is the Chinese flower gardens of the seventh-century that were “considered as landscape paintings in three dimensions”.3 While these connections are historically important and link with my topic, I have focused on an exploration of the Picturesque aesthetic—its development, principles, ideology, and continuing evolution. This is important for this study as it provides context and in helping define the aesthetics links with the English landscape garden, Australian landscape painting, my own work and the ideology of landscape. In this chapter I identify some of the early influences, competing voices, and events that influenced the aesthetics and politics of the Picturesque aesthetic. I focus on two key figures: William Gilpin, credited with most clearly defining the aesthetic principles of the Picturesque, and Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown, whose ideal English parkscape gardens                                                                                                                 1 http://www.seadict.com/en/en/picturesque, (accessed 15 December 2016) 2 Fenja Gunn, Lost Gardens of Gertude Jekyll (Letts, 1991), 160. 3 Joseph Wang, The Chinese Garden (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1998), 17.   17   redefined the English landscape in the lead up to what is sometimes described as the ‘cult’ of the Picturesque. The Picturesque owes its existence largely to several divergent influences in post-1750s England, including the burgeoning industrial revolution, the war with France, the food shortages that resulted from the war, and the new economic value of land. These events combined with the “taste for nature and the natural” towards the formulation of a set of aesthetic principles that attributed a higher meaning to nature.4 “As a result of its new economic value, land at the end of the eighteenth century acquired new social and political value as well. Simultaneously, Nature, with its various representations in painting, poetry, letters, manners, dress, philosophy, and science, became a supreme social value and was called upon to clarify and justify social change”.5 Richard Payne Knight (1750–1823), a leading exponent of the Picturesque, purposefully linked art and gardens. His insights can be summarised in these terms: it is through the stimulation of the mind that we gain endless gratification from viewing gardens via associating them with landscape painting.6 This appreciation is also embellished and contrasted through these associations in the creation of paintings and gardens. Over time the Picturesque has come to be understood as a classification for both painting and landscapes. The Picturesque “The Picturesque represents more than a trend in gardening or a footnote to the history of the sublime, the Picturesque represents a complex and at times paradoxical moment in the evolution of the eighteenth-century attitudes about art, nature and aesthetic experience”.6 William Gilpin (1724–1804) began to publish ideas about the Picturesque based on accounts from his landscape tours of England during the 1780s, but it was not until 1792 that he formally set down his theories of the Picturesque in Three Essays: On                                                                                                                 4  Ann Bermingham, Landscape and Ideology: The English Rustic Tradition, 1740–1860 (Los Angeles, USA: University of California Press, Berkely, 1989), 57.   5  Ibid, 1.   6  David. E Cooper, A Philosophy of Gardens (Oxford, UK: Clarendon Press, 2006), 15.   6  David Marshall, The Problem with the Picturesque, Vol. 35, No. 3, Aesthetics and the Disciplines (Spring, 2002), 413–437.     18   Picturesque Beauty, On Picturesque Travel, and On Sketching Landscape. Gilpin’s version of the Picturesque was focused on notions of Picturesque ‘effect’ observed in natural scenes (fig. 6). He sought these effects in landscapes described as ‘all roughness, irregularity, and variousness’, and later called scenes possessing these qualities ‘extremely romantic’.7 He linked art and nature but unlike Knight elevated nature above art.8 The term ‘Picturesque’ as a set of rules and as a construct was defined through its relationship to two main aesthetic ideals—sublimity and beauty. Although Picturesque appreciation was considered a basic human instinct and not part of rational decision-making, it relied upon notions of refinement and connoisseurship, as well as conversancy with art. Along with Gilpin, Knight defined the Picturesque in the realm of those who are “in the habit of viewing and receiving from fine pictures, who will naturally feel pleasure in viewing those objects in nature”.9 Knight elevated pleasure and refinement and bound the appreciation of paintings to nature. From the 1750s, garden design was shaped not only by several competing ideas of what constituted a Picturesque landscape, but also by prevailing fashion and the innovations of designers such as Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown (1716–1783),                                                                                                                 7  Laura Mayer, Capability Brown and the English Landscape Garden (Great Britain: Shire Library, 2011), 51. 8  Bermingham, Landscape and Ideology, 1.   9  John Dixon Hunt and Peter Willis. The Genius of Place: The English Landscape Garden, 1620– 1820 (Cambridge, Massachusetts, London, England: The MIT Press, 1988), 349.   Fig. 6. An illustration from William Gilpin’s Observations on the River Wye (Second edition) (1789), facing p. 39.     19   Humphrey Repton (1752–1818), and before them William Kent (1685–1748). These designers and their clients also had competing visions. The gardens they designed and the landscape art that depicted these estates relied on patronage and patronage meant politics and wealth (fig. 7). This reliance is significant, as it ultimately ensured the elevation of the Picturesque aesthetic and the enduring relationship between garden design and the development of the Western landscape painting tradition. Poet Alexander Pope (1688–1744), on looking through the entrance arch of the Botanic Garden at Oxford, declared: “All gardening is landscape painting. Just like a landscape hung up”.10 As the concepts of nature and naturalness took hold, they did so at a time of great political and social upheaval. The advent of the industrial revolution and England’s war with France (1756–1763) increased the importance and value of land and propelled the “improvement of the real landscape”.11 Wartime food shortages drove the imperative to increase agricultural yield and as commodity prices rose, so too did the price of land. These factors coincided with the rise of the Picturesque and the fashions espoused by landscape gardeners like Brown. Gilpin’s Picturesque was rustic and he sought out and identified his version of the aesthetic in natural scenes throughout Britain (fig. 6), describing the Picturesque as “that kind of beauty which would look well in a picture”.12 Uvedale Price (1747–1829), unlike Gilpin, sought Picturesque qualities in the (old) estate gardens that Brown was                                                                                                                 10  Peter Martin, The Pleasures of Virginia: From Jamestown to Jefferson (University of Virginia, Charlottesville, London, 2001), xxii.   11  Bermingham, Landscape and Ideology, 66.   12  Mayer, Capability Brown and the English Landscape Garden, 49.   Fig. 7. One of Humphrey Repton’s unrealised ‘Gardenesque’ designs fashionable at the close of the 1800s.     20   successfully transforming into parkscape. Whilst many believed that Brown’s ‘innovations’ of clumps of trees and serpentine lakes expressed the new naturalism in gardening, Price attacked Brown for his ‘contrived effects’ and artificiality.13 The Picturesque that preceded Brown was defined as “the practice of configuring real space to resemble paintings”14 and a systematic way in which to view and appreciate the world. Early in the 19th Century, through patronage and partly because of the value of land, the landscape as a genre began to assert itself over the established genre of history painting.15 The rise in popularity of Picturesque travel in England, alongside Gilpin’s ability to communicate his ideas to a broader audience contributed to the notion that “moderately circumstanced, literate, middle- class people were capable of making aesthetic judgements”,16 which in turn drove the taste for landscape painting and re-making the landscape. Gilpin, himself an artist, defined in compositional terms how a truly Picturesque landscape should be formatted: the foreground should be united with side screens, a brighter middle distance should provide views of a far-reaching distant prospect, and, to add consequence, a ruined abbey should break into the sky.17 The Brownian landscape: Compton Verney One of the most enduring exponents of the ‘ideal English parkscape’ was the landscape gardener ‘Capability’ Brown who, during his almost forty-year career, designed over 170 garden estates, one of which was Compton Verney in Warwickshire. Compton Verney was begun in 1768 and took Brown and his garden-labourers six years to complete.18 The rise of Brown and changes in taste away from ‘Classical Arcadia’ and more ‘eclectic Rococo gardens’ of the preceding decades signalled the growing desire for more natural,                                                                                                                 13  Bermingham, Landscape and Ideology, 68.   14  http://www.encyclopedia.com/literature-­‐and-­‐arts/art-­‐and-­‐architecture/art-­‐ general/picturesque  (accessed 15 December 2016). 15  Kay Dian Kriz, The Idea of the English landscape Painter: Genius as Alibi in the Early Nineteenth Century (Yale University Press, New Haven and London, 1997), 66.   16  Ibid.   17  Mayer, Capability Brown and the English Landscape Garden, 49. 18  Ibid, 33.     21   opened-out garden characteristics.19 These features became the aesthetic underpinnings of the Picturesque. To give some context to this rise in prominence, by Brown’s death in 1783 over four thousand landscape parks had been made-over in England.20 Not everyone admired what Brown did. Picturesque theorist Uvedale Price was scathing of Brown’s gardens; whilst they were seen as a new synthesised naturalism Price believed they were not natural enough and constituted a “rape of nature”.21 During my 2011 UK field trip I made several paintings of the grounds at Compton Verney, all of which feature the now enormous pines (fig. 8). Two of these paintings in particular, Framed by Pines, Compton Verney (2011) (fig. 10) and Through Big Pines / Compton Verney (2011) (fig. 14), exemplify my preoccupation with the frame within the frame as a structural matrix employed to highlight specific motifs, add illusionistic depth, and reinforce the composed nature of the garden I am painting. To further illustrate this, I have set these two paintings amongst several other paintings of different gardens where I have used similar compositional devices. The four paintings shown together under the section titled Framing the View: Placing a Central Motif (figs. 9, 10, 11, and 12), while quite varied, demonstrate my compositional approach and the way in which I set out to frame a certain aspect in each garden. This                                                                                                                 19  Ibid.   20  Ibid, 46.   21  Bermingham, Landscape and Ideology, 67.   Fig. 8. Compton Verney, Warwickshire. (2011)   22   may be a dead tree, a small shaped pine, oddly shaped gum situated amongst European plants, or a glimpse of a swimming pool. I may isolate a subject as if posing an open- ended question, but more often than not the reframed object possesses some kind of personal significance. This may be a memory from my past, recognition of a previous painting or painting experience, or an allegorical, human connection. When choosing to paint or painting a landscape I am actively looking for visual cues and the metaphoric potential contained within the elements that make up that scene. This is a cognitive process involving interpretation and thus the editing of what is seen. Different places like Compton Verney can trigger the search for new visual solutions or prompt me to revisit familiar territory in the search for a new approach. As a subject for painting, the parkscape grounds at Compton Verney were significant; unlike many of Brown’s gardens, they remain relatively unchanged from his original design. As with all gardens, apart from direct human intervention and wholesale change, the main agents of change are the normal cycle of growth, natural mortality, and the ongoing remediation that occurs when caring for any garden. These two paintings of Compton Verney illustrate the beginning of a more conscious approach to composition and the notion of a garden as a theatricalised space involving the honing of what I describe as the frame within the frame. This search for a stage-like quality led to the predominate use of a portrait format to enclose the viewer’s gaze. These works reaffirmed the compositional explorations of the earlier paintings produced at Boolooroo Station near Moree (fig. 13) where I located myself within the garden looking out. My approach there was influenced by Stanley Spencer’s compositions (a subject-activated foreground and naturalistic depiction) as opposed to an overtly romanticised Claudean ideal. The Boolooroo Station paintings, along with the Compton Verney works, were important reference points for the subsequent body of work produced at the Everglades in Leura (some which will be discussed in Chapter Five). These paintings led me to seek out similar characteristics within other gardens and to produce new works incorporating multiple framing devices. These also included strong verticals and recurring focal elements.   23   For these framing devices to be truly effective, my paintings needed to depict real (not imaginary) places, enforcing the need for more observed en plein air painting. Whilst the light and level of detail of each scene (figs. 13 and 15) may have been edited or adjusted, each painting’s reframed compositional structure relied upon a faithful depiction of that place. In order to create a sense of the hyper-real that hovers within the realm of believability but also questions reality, I sought to locate the garden by heightening the particular mood of each painting and combining that mood with a convincing portrayal of the setting. These were not extreme adjustments but more of a shift in emphasis, a heightening of luminosity or an intermingling or saturation of different colours. As in Through Big Pines / Compton Verney (2011) (fig. 14), the changes found expression through the interplay of shadows and their defused definition and contrast, as well as the narrowing of the aperture through which the central subject and view are visible. When painting, I’m interested in gaining insight into the underlying compositions of each garden. This is spurred by my curiosity as someone who is passionate about gardens and how they are put together—why certain plants are chosen, their position in relation to each other, and the labour involved in their production and situation. A vital part of this process of understanding is to, wherever possible, make several works in each garden, focusing on differing views of the same elements. The layout of Compton Verney, particularly the area around the lake, made it appealing to paint; it offered groupings of trees and strong structural elements broken up by passages of open ground. Each garden I paint teaches me something new. In the case of Compton Verney, the monumental scale of the pines planted by Brown provided a new opportunity. Just as many gardens have paths or areas of respite, I am always conscious to frame each scene in a way as to allow the viewer space to enter the picture. The three paintings illustrated in figures 13, 14, and 15 under the heading Looking into Light were designed to allow the viewer room to dwell in a moment of stillness and to build the atmospherics of each painting. In each case, these foreground areas were adjusted and subtly reworked with directional brush-marks and merging colour variations to increase the sense of enticement. Again, it was equally important that each of these works conveyed pictorial   24   believability by achieving a degree of naturalism. My intention is for each work (and each depiction of that place) to articulate a visual truth (of that place) but to allow for a questioning of that truth, an articulation that produces a space between the believability of what actually existed and the often-strange qualities and interactions that are created when nature is re-organized or tampered with. Compton Verney’s most striking features appear in both paintings: the huge, 250-year- old pine trees that truly dominate the landscape. Garden designs and plantings on this scale factor in longevity, grandeur, and a sense of heroics, and are a much different proposition to paint than more intimate, eclectic, or strangely situated alien gardens. The title of the painting Framed by Big Pines (2011) describes the genesis for this composition and points to their odd shape, gnarled trunks, and missing limbs. Their form, as pines and as they exist in this painting, signifies their time in the earth and the extent of human intervention needed to create their peculiar structure. In Through Big Pines / Compton Verney (2011) I have chosen to invert the composition to create a less open, much more intimate view. I have used the pines’ foliage and their shadows to close in and funnel the view in an effort to add the illusion of depth rather than present the more open invitation expressed in Framed by Big Pines, Compton Verney. I chose to enhance the level of detail when articulating the tips of the foliage so that they reach out into the light as if to caress the central pine figure. The shapes of the shadows in the foreground have been adjusted to create a visual path leading through the pines and towards the light. I have positioned the horizon line towards the bottom half of the composition to elevate the viewer’s gaze so that the viewer is positioned to look upward, into the light. When painting this scene I have also taken care to articulate the central pine so that it may be read as a figure.   25     26   Left: Fig. 16. Rosemary Lang, groundspeed (Red Piazza) #4 (2001), Type C photograph edition 15. Contemporary reading of a new Picturesque Historic images of the Colonial Picturesque and their resultant socio-political implications continue to inform the work of many Australian and international artists. Past legacies of ‘landscape culture’ such as colonisation and dispossession resulting from notions of transformation and man’s primacy over nature are also reflected in contemporary cultural discourse and image making. The ongoing ramifications and omnipresent politics of ‘land’ can be attributed to a continuum of the past that links present land and resource practices and the all too real threat to ‘natural’ systems. The belief that we (as human beings) are separate from nature is challenged by the material consequences of climate change, toxic pollution, biodiversity loss, water scarcity, and ocean acidification. Contemporary artists like Rosemary Lang (1958–) challenge our perception and question our relationship to nature through picturing landscape interventions such as groundspeed (Red Piazza) #4 (fig. 16). It is important to note that Lang does not digitally manipulate or enhance her photographs, preferring like British artist Andy Goldsworthy to physically intervene in the landscape and to document her own form of visual truth. This work pictures red, retro carpet that in turn depicts floral emblems of nature laid across the rainforest floor. As a composition this photo is highly conventional and framed in a Picturesque manner. It possesses darkened landforms on either side of the frame; it conveys depth through a standard receding foreground, mid-ground, and background and directs the viewer’s gaze through a centrally lit area that is framed by two trees in the middle of the picture.   27   Left: Fig. 17. Joan Ross, Touching other people’s butterflies (2013); still from single channel digital video animation, colour, sound. In her video animation, Touching other people’s butterflies (2013) Joan Ross (1961–) more directly exploits the Picturesque by combining appropriated historical images with contemporary representations of nature that have been digitally manipulated to overtly juxtapose the past and the present (fig. 17). Like Lang, Ross deploys conventional framing methods but more pointedly alludes to acts of settlement and a Picturesque ideology. In this frame, Ross’s jarring neon colours are incorporated with an image by colonial artist-forger Joseph Lycett and others in a cut and paste, post-punk mash-up that suggests that the times may be different but not much has changed. In doing so Ross not only challenges our perception of nature and the environment but also critiques and questions the politics of land and land practices in reference to current cultural norms. British environmental artist Andy Goldsworthy (1956–) challenges the past and the way we look at landscape and nature through his ephemeral, site-specific sculptural works. It could be argued that his works stand as a rejection of Picturesque ideology, but it must be said that to read and fully appreciate his images we require prior knowledge of the aesthetic conventions and ideology of the Picturesque. Whilst less physical and less interventionist in their creation, my garden paintings also depend upon a physical interaction with nature. They involve an expression of that experience through my interaction and end with a pictorial response. It is not until I paint sections of my own garden that I have worked to reshape that I begin to share some common ground with Goldsworthy. I have chosen Goldsworthy as an example to give context to a contemporary Picturesque because of the environmental underpinnings of his works and   28   Fig. 18. Left: Andy Goldsworthy, Large Fallen Oak Tree, Jenny Noble’s Gill, Dumfriesshire (15th September, 1985). Fig. 19. Right: Dandelion Flowers, Yorkshire Sculpture Park, West Bretton (1st May, 1987). the fact that (even though his work may be ephemeral), like a gardener, he has re-shaped and re-imagined nature. The notion of viewing nature in terms of a picture (which relies on the frame and a set of conventions that reduces a view to its two-dimensional form) rather than as an all- encompassing, multi-sensory experience is an expression of Western culture. As Busch (1989) writes: “Each culture constructs its own world out of the infinite variety of nature … [Nature is] socialised … recognised … [and] made into a material manifestation of social structure”.22 The notion of reconstructing a world out of nature, which is then recognised through an image, hung up, and displayed, goes to the heart of the Picturesque and Goldsworthy’s practice. Goldsworthy challenges the way we look at landscape and nature through the creation of ephemeral sculptures; through his actions, he re-presents nature by intervening in the landscape, then separates himself (and us) from nature via a reframed photographic reinterpretation (figs. 18, 19). By using what is at hand (like a gardener) he works with nature to highlight his overarching philosophical agenda and to communicate the concept that we as living beings are also part of nature.                                                                                                                 22  Thomas Greider and Lorraine Garkovich, Landscapes: The Social Construction of Nature and the Environment (Lexington, USA: Department of Sociology, University of Kentucky, 40546– 0215, 1994), 6.     29   Philosophically, his temporal works sit at odds with and question the viability of Capability Brown’s Picturesque gardens. By working with nature, they directly challenge notions of conquering nature and remaking the world, as well as the ideology of improvement. Yet, however temporary his sculptural works may be, his photographs (like many images which represent gardens) are permanent evidence of the Picturesque trait of transformation. Once complete they stand as a pictorial expression of his idealised version of nature. Despite the often, fleeting nature of his sculptural works, Goldsworthy’s practice is significant because in working with nature the way he does many of his works express, or refer to, the art form of gardening. Acknowledging the past In September 2010, I made a trip to Moree on the northwest plains of New South Wales to paint the garden at Boolooroo Station and to attend an opening of an exhibition of my paintings at the Moree Plains Regional Gallery. I had seen this complex and passionately maintained garden, the result of three generations of the same family, on a previous trip. At the opening of the exhibition I had a fleeting conversation with a local Aboriginal woman who asked me what I thought of Moree and I told her I had been painting the garden out at Boolooroo Station. I also commented on how dry it was and suggested that we needed some rain. Without malice but tinged with deep sadness, she asked if I knew that the area around Moree had once been an abundant wetland that, after more than 150 years of intensive farming, has all but disappeared. At the time her statement made a real impact on me and I felt it important when writing about the Picturesque to acknowledge the significance of what she told me, highlighting continuing political, social, and environmental ramifications. The shrinking wetlands that she spoke of are now promoted as a regional tourist attraction and the attached Gwydir River that feeds the garden and the various crops at Boolooroo Station once fed the Kamilaroi people.   30   Fig. 20. (Illustration 1) Depicted in: Two Expeditions into the interior of South Australia, Vol. 1, entitled Native Burial Place, Near Budda   Aboriginal memorial gardens In 2010 the State Library of NSW held an exhibition entitled Carved Trees: Aboriginal Cultures of Western NSW. This exhibition documented the cultural practices of carving ceremonial trees to mark burial sites. Whilst the carved ceremonial trees are of great interest, their significance in term of this research is as markers of grave-sites and memorial gardens. Bruce Pascoe writes that “landscaping and garden design around cemeteries and ceremonial grounds were observed by a number of early settlers”;23 this has been documented in many parts of Australia. He also notes that “the photographs we have of graves and graveyards indicate that the site was selected for its beauty and show many arbors, which we can assume had been planted to enhance the aesthetic”.24 Thomas Mitchell’s field notes and drawings also record the landscaping of the Aboriginal cemetery near the Darling River. The image (fig. 20) depicts Blandowski’s interpretation of an Aboriginal burial place as described to him by the explorer Charles Sturt. Of particular interest in terms of its Picturesque aesthetic and what it depicts is the picture drawn by G. E. Evans (fig. 21) which was done whilst on expedition with John Oxley in the 1820s. The Indigenous Services Librarian, Ronald Briggs, writes that “John Oxley gave the first European account of carved trees in 1817, when he                                                                                                                 23  Bruce Pasco, Dark Emu Black Seed: Agriculture or Accident? (Western Australia: Magabala Books Aboriginal Corporation, 2014) 178.   24  Ibid.     31   Fig. 21. The Grave of a Native of Australia, GE Evans encountered a Wiradjuri burial site on the Lachlan River”.25 The exhibition catalogue describes the work thus: “The Grave of a Native of Australia, drawn by GE Evans and published in John Oxley’s journals of two expeditions into the interior of New South Wales in 1820”.26 The work by Evans clearly illustrates a parkland not unlike the Tasmanian Gentleman’s park described by John Glover. Glover, referring to the country near where he lived, writes that “it is possible almost everywhere, to drive a carriage as easily as in a Gentleman’s Park in England”.27 The power of this work is in the representation of culture by another codified culture, a stilted, almost naïve Picturesque depiction of a sacred cultural practice being recorded and acknowledged at the same time as it was being expunged and denied. The image depicts a cleared site nestled amongst trees—a place of ceremony, reflection, and memory. Strangely, when we look at this picture, there is something truly beautiful about what we see but also something immensely sad. An                                                                                                                 25  Ronald Briggs, “European Discovery”, In Carved Trees: Aboriginal Cultures of western NSW (Nelson Meers Foundation, State Library of New South Wales, 2011), 12.   26  Ibid.   27  David Hansen, John Glover and The Colonial Picturesque (Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery, Hobart and Art Exhibitions Australia, 2003), 98.     32   image of shared but tenuous cultural links that express strong emotion and, as we can see, through gardening and memorialising the dead, common human practice. The constructed landscape The historic English version of the Picturesque and the constructed landscape was in part reclamation—a reaction to the ugliness of the industrial revolution. The politics of land was attached to beauty and the taking back of nature. The concepts of beauty and nature, the principles of the Picturesque, and the new constructed landscape attached order and meaning to place and harked back to old, green English ideals. When Glover came to Australia there was no industrial revolution underway; what he thought he encountered was wild, untamed, and uncivilised nature. Glover’s audience was not colonial settlers; he produced paintings for a market back in England curious to understand the new world. The landscape that the colonists made, as we do now, was “a working, productive entity, adapting and changing uses overtime”.28 The pressures that drove the Picturesque and the production of landscape paintings helped define the pictorial parameters of the garden landscape. Today, our contemporary expressions of the Picturesque are influenced by history and the multitude of technologies available to artists, as in Joan Ross’s use of digital video animation to contrast historical events with ideas that critique environmental pressures in a globalised world. Once, plant hunters searched to discover the exotic and cherished the unknown; today we see the planet’s biodiversity disappearing before our eyes. Prior to white settlement, 30% of Australia was covered by forest and of that forest 40% is gone.29 These figures reflect the paradigm and context in which I view the world. The politics of land, nature and, by association, gardens, are more complex and so too is how Picturesque aesthetics are read and disseminated.                                                                                                                 28  Pheobe Brady, University College Dublin,  http://www.presidentsmedals.com/Entry-36411   (accessed 15 December 2016).   29  http://jpe.oxfordjournals.org/content/5/1/109.full (accessed 15 December 2016).     33   Fig. 22. View Past Shadows, Rowen’s Garden (2011), oil on canvas, 85 cm x 65 cm. There are several dualities, such as the beauty of nature and (reshaped) nature, expressed in my work and in the paintings of my own garden cut into the bush of the Blue Mountains. Each painted picture inevitably expresses an idealised version of that actual garden but also the politics of that garden’s position. In pictorial terms my paintings can be seen as intimate, observed explorations of beautiful gardens but also representations of culture laid over culture (fig. 22). On a personal level, my paintings explore different evolving garden aesthetics—ways of transforming nature—but in picturing different gardens my intention is to explore and question my relationship to the natural world. Throughout this research, when painting gardens, I’ve tried, where at all possible, to frame out man-made structures such as paths, trellises, or buildings. Crucially I have wanted to allow the plants themselves, in each particular garden scene, to demonstrate human intervention and accentuate the way we as gardeners arrange and distort nature. As a gardener and as an artist, I observe and frame the plant forms within their landscape context to express the colour, rhythm, structure, and human interaction. In every painting that forms this research I have deliberately chosen not to depict a garden with a house at its centre. Instead I have placed   34   myself between the house and garden, inside the garden, in order to portray the garden and contexualise its relationship to what lies beyond. This is an important distinction as the house is implied but not known; what is most significant is the garden, its own expression, and the nexus between its boundary and the culture and politics of its situation. Conclusion In this chapter I have explored the Picturesque and its relation to gardens and landscape painting. I have focused on its development and principles as a construct, and its ideology and slow evolution from the competing voices of William Gilpin Richard Payne Knight and others, through to today’s more contemporary interpretations of the aesthetic. This chapter also seeks to define the Picturesque as a way of viewing nature through the elevation of the notions of refinement and pleasure as well as its relationship with garden design and how it was shaped by the competing ideas, prevailing fashion and the innovation of designers like Capability Brown. The contribution of designers like Brown and others raised the Picturesque aesthetic to ensuring its enduring relationship between garden design and the western landscape painting tradition, of which I am apart. ! ! ! ! In the next chapter I explore the art of John Glover and the colonial Picturesque and discuss the making and painting of his house and garden at Mills Plains in Tasmania. I also discuss what Glover brought from England, what he found on his arrival, and the implications of the art that he produced. This is done to give some context to what is outlined in this chapter and further consider the development and ideology of the Picturesque in relation to gardens, Australia landscape painting, my own paintings, and the politics of landscape. ! 35! Fig. 23. Left: A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land (1835). Chapter Two: The Making of a Garden and the Painting of a Picture Introduction In this chapter I review texts addressing artist-gardener John Glover and his painting A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land (1835) (fig. 23). I analyse the links between Glover’s art and his garden, and discuss how the image of his garden shapes what we understand of that landscape. In the establishment and picturing of his garden, Glover distanced Europeans from the capture and removal of Aboriginal people. I investigate the rise of settlement during the 1820s and 1830s and the politics of colonisation through the attendant rise of landscape and ornamental gardening practices conceptually organised by the Picturesque, an aesthetic and intellectual regime with roots in seventeenth and eighteenth century European idealism that largely defined Glover’s artistic work. Australian garden historian Richard Aitkin acknowledges that the colonial reshaping of naturally-occurring and Aboriginally-managed land was carried out with an explicit appreciation for “qualities found in nature that could be viewed as if through the eye of a painter”, such that “the emotional and associative power of the landscape quickly became imbued with notions of the Picturesque”.1 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 1Richard Aitkin, The Garden of Ideas: Four Centuries of Australian Style (Melbourne: The Miegunyah Press, Melbourne University, 2010), 45.! ! 36! Key themes and phrases emerge in surveying the critical literature on Glover’s Australian landscapes as images of settlement: colonial notions of transformation and improvement, of rural bounty, and of an idealisation of the landscape, are set against accounts of dispossession: the taking of land, and capture and removal. These contextualise Glover’s migration to Australia, and his relationship to Mills Plains (now known as Patterdale farm) and to the surrounding landscape. I will discuss these themes in relation to my focus on exploring connections between his painting practice, this new landscape, and his garden. Given that A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land is not typical of Glover’s Picturesque aesthetic and larger body of work, I want to explore its relation to other paintings he produced at that time. I draw links between specific paintings that I believe to be significant and question the views of different authors in an effort to understand not only the implications of Glover’s painting, but where it fits into Glover’s oeuvre. I consider the politics of colonisation, his thinking at the time, and the stylistic changes he made after his arrival in Australia. As an artist and educator concerned with the creation of gardens, garden paintings, and, more generally, the tradition of landscape painting as it persists into the contemporary period, my project looks to Glover’s painterly methods and stylistic changes to read the politics of the establishment and portrayal of his garden. Improvement and transformation In The Colonial Earth, Tim Bonyhady links “Glover’s eagerness to transform his new landscape” with “his enthusiasm for what he found there”, a succinct expression of the superior ambivalence at the heart of the colonial Picturesque.2 One of the first examples we have of Glover’s ‘eagerness to transform’ is expressed in the painting Hobart Town taken From My Garden Where I lived (1832) (fig. 24). Bonyhady cites Sharon Morgan offering that “Glover fixed on its bounty” and that the flowers were evidence of “what perfection Gardens may be brought (to) in the Country”.3 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 2 Tim Bonyhady, The Colonial Earth (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2000), 93. 3 Ibid. ! 37! Fig. 24. Left: Hobart Town taken From My Garden Where I lived (1832). We cannot know whether Glover himself worked this garden or indeed what portion of the garden constitutes the potted plants, seedlings and seeds that came with him from England, but Bonyhady makes clear he was determined the make improvement to his holding at Mills Plains.4 He also asserts that Glover’s job was made simpler in that the land he was granted was largely cleared and rich with grasses almost certainly a consequence of Aboriginal burning, otherwise known as fire-stick farming.5 This European notion of improvement and the industrialisation of land sits in stark contrast to the much more sustainable land management systems practiced by Aboriginal people. What makes A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land unusual is its openness; it doesn’t conform to Glover’s more usual Claudian Picturesque framing conventions as displayed in the first major garden picture he painted, Hobart Town taken From My Garden Where I lived (1832). The Claudian Picturesque involved atmospherics, light effects, and the enclosing of a central view in the composition, framed on either side with rocks or trees. The viewer’s gaze is held in place as he / she steps through the picture from a darkened foreground to a mid-ground and ultimately to the all-important distance. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 4 Ibid. 5 Ibid, 90. ! 38! Fig. 25. Left: John Glover, A View of Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land (1833). Bonyhady suggests that Glover was preoccupied after his arrival in Tasmania with the subject of Gum Trees, as evidenced by his numerous sketchbooks; he took delight in drawing a profusion of big old trees.6 By my analysis, these drawings and paintings focus on the contorted branches of gum trees that many other colonial artists failed to truly depict. A prime example of this is Glover’s painting A View of Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land (1833) (fig. 25). Under the terms of Glover’s 2,560 acre land grant, he was legally compelled to spend an amount of money equivalent to the value of the grant to improve the land; Bonyhady highlights his appetite for improvement at Mills Plains, and what he undertook outweighed his legal obligations.7 This notion of improvement is bound up in the ideology of landscape gardening and the Picturesque and is a colonising view transposed to this environment. Thomas Shepherd’s Lectures on Landscape Gardening in Australia (1836) helps define this culture of transformation and improvement thus: “By the art, skill, and taste of the Landscape Gardener, a more sublime, picturesque, or beautiful scene, and the state of things, is formed, than nature could present, if left entirely to her own exuberance, or sterility. He improves upon nature by directing her power, and renders generally agreeable to the sight of the beholders such objects as might, without his skill of arrangement, be contemplated with indifference or aversion”.8 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 6 Ibid, 91. 7 Ibid, 94. 8 Aitkin, The Garden of Ideas: Four Centuries of Australian Style, 45. ! 39! Writing about A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land, Bonyhady again reinforces the notion of transformation: Glover’s painting of his new house and garden expresses his immense satisfaction in how he remade Mills Plains.9 Whilst Bonyhady believes that the great majority of plants depicted had been introduced by Glover we have no idea to what extent he was involved in working the soil and laying out the garden. And whilst we know he was keenly interested in his burgeoning garden and that he brought with him several trees from England that flourished, we cannot be sure that the painting is an actual depiction of the plants that were there.10 The growing of food in settler gardens was essential for a sustained existence and this painting shows evidence of the garden two and a half years after Glover’s arrival. Identifiable in the painting are pink rose bushes and geraniums stepped out across the foreground and just beyond the floral display a burgeoning orchard and rows of fruit trees. We can also see that Glover has put the numerous seeds and potted plants that he brought with him from England to good use in order to transform Mills Plains.11 On closer inspection we can identify the large variety of different flowers in bloom, some of which are out of season. Bonyhady claims that this was done to increase “the impression of bounty”;12 although this artistic interpretation is almost certainly correct, it is ultimately inconsistent with the idea that his painting records to be a faithful depiction of what the garden looked liked after two years.13 An idealised landscape or a realistic depiction Glover’s House and Garden painting is not just a representation of a house and garden; as Ron Radford writes, Glover expresses “the artist’s joy in this new Arcadian paradise”.14 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 9 Bonyhady, The Colonial Earth, 94. 10 James Backhouse, Journal, May 9, 1833, Part 6, p. 41, B730, ML. 11 Bonyhady, The Colonial Earth, 94. 12 Ibid. 13 Ibid. 14!Ron Radford and Jane Hylton, Australian Colonial Art: 1800–1900, (Daniel Thomas, ed.) (Adelaide: Art Gallery Board of South Australia, 1995), 71.! ! 40! ! Furthermore, like Bonyhady, Radford identifies the recurring notion of transformation and Glover’s adherence to his European traditions.15 Counter to what I understand this painting to express, Radford makes the contentious claim that Glover’s painted garden image is not idealised but one that is realistic.16 I believe that Radford’s opinion here cannot be adequately squared with the available evidence. In addition to Bonyhady’s horticultural insight that the floral garden was in bloom and not consistent with their accepted seasons17 and therefore it must be fantastical or an exaggeration, I believe we have evidence of a more realistic impression of the house and garden from Glover’s sketchbooks. A small ink-wash sketch, now held in the collection of the National Library of Australia (fig. 26), depicts what appears to be a much less established garden. In the sketch, the garden closest to the house and studio is plainly visible, but the organised, established beds and radiating rows of flowering plants evident in the painting are not clearly articulated. As an artist whose practice is based upon a combination of primarily information-gathering en plein air painting and more imaginative and interpretative studio painting, it is my opinion that this sketch is more likely to be a truer representation of what was actually there. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 15!Ibid. 16!Ibid. 17!Bonyhady, The Colonial Earth, 95. Fig. 26. Left: Detail from John Glover’s sketchbook (1834?), Landscape with trees; Glover's house and garden picture, 2 drawings: pen, ink and wash; on sheet 17.8 x 26.5 cm. ! 41! Glover appears to have produced the ink sketch from an elevated, slightly more distant vantage point, whereas in the painting we are positioned at eye-level with the horizon, directly in the garden. Whilst this sketch is tiny, Glover has loaded it with considerable information and detail. His skill and experience from years of assiduous drawing and visual note-taking are evident in this sketch. We can clearly make out, from both the sketch and the painting, the line in the mid-ground that traces across the plain to the pond. What’s more, we can make out the growth that surrounds the pond. What makes this small sketch significant is not its similarities to the painting but its differences. Details such as the small window in the facing side of the studio appear in the sketch but not in the painting. The scale of the path or road that leads to the stone house in the sketch is not given the same prominence in the painting. Most striking of all is the disparity in the scale, shape, and portrayal of the surrounding hills. The sketch shows more regular, rounded hills comparable to other paintings and contemporary photographs of Patterdale, whereas in the painting Glover has depicted a much more stylised version of the hill. In composing this picture, Glover has triangulated the main hill, now known as either Pinner’s Pine or Sugar Loaf Hill, to reinforce the repeating triangular forms within the composition (fig. 27). This is also expressed in elements such as the pitch of the studio roof, the angled tops of the flowering bushes, and the matrix of angular paths that fan out across the foreground of the painting; these elements all owe their form to Glover’s sense of order. Even the clouds located above the hill have been ordered to reflect the hills’ triangular shape. There is a circularity in picturing landscape; by imposing order and bounty to his garden, Glover has in turn applied order and a framework to create a Romanticised version of what was there (and possibly what was not there). As in theories of the Picturesque, the natural world requires pictorial composition to be complete. ! 42! Drawing on the methodologies I have developed in my painting practice, I propose that it is more likely that Glover was inspired to reshape the hill via the triangular shape of the cloud depicted in the en plein air ink sketch. Whilst this is speculation, it is based on my own experience and what I look for in a landscape, my working methods and my compositional triggers. It leads me to disagree with Radford’s reading of Glover’s painting as “realistic” rather than an “idealised landscape”.18 John McPhee, in contrast to Radford, presents a more widely-held view in The Art of John Glover: “This painting of Patterdale shows the house, Glover’s studio and gallery surrounded by hectares of garden of almost Arcadian qualities. This garden, the result of seed and plants brought from England, must surely be something of an exaggeration, presumably in anticipation of a future result”.19 This notion of anticipation and future is bound up in our understanding of gardens and gardening. A gardener in the act of creating a garden is enacting their own Idealised Picturesque through the planning and composition of a garden by weeding and pruning; ultimately, they create a view. I seek to express something similar in my painting A View of the Artist’s Garden, Hillston, Springwood (2010–2011), a homage to Glover’s idealised view of Mills Plain where what appears in the painting is a projection of future plantings and my own sense of anticipation (fig. 28). !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 18!Radford and Hylton, Australian Colonial Art, 71.! 19!McPhee, The Art of John Glover (London, New York, Melbourne: Macmillan, 1980), 35.! Fig. 27. Left: Compositional diagram created to illustrate the emphasis Glover placed on the repeating triangular shape within the picture frame. I contend that this painting on first impressions appears to be quite simple in its format but on closer reading reveals many complexities. ! 43! Seed, settlement, parklands, and dispossession Bernard Smith suggests that it is not totally clear why Glover migrated to Australia but it seems that his family was at the centre of those reasons. We also know that Glover grew up on a farm and as a young boy spent time working in the fields.20 Early on this proximity and connection to farming and the land “enabled him to go into the field and woods to sketch the landscape and pastoral scenes with which he so much enjoyed surrounding himself”.21 This suggests that in coming to Van Diemen’s Land he could return to what he knew and fulfil his desire to establish, not only himself but his family in a productive enterprise while continue his painting.22 These connections between land and art are deeply entwined in the paintings he produced in Tasmania. Sharon Morgan’s Land Settlement in Early Tasmania: Creating an Antipodean England documents how seeds and plants were exchanged between the colony and Britain and how colonists often shared and swapped produce with neighbours and friends. Morgan outlines garden practice as largely observational; seasonal advice was shared, and experienced settlers helped inform newcomers. Just prior to Glover’s arrival in the colony in 1831 specific written material on gardening in Van Diemen’s Land had begun circulate.23 By the time Glover was ready to start his garden there was much more horticultural knowledge and a growing appetite for ornamentals and the integration of an !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 20!McPhee, The Art of John Glover, 1.! 21 Ibid. 22 Smith, European Vision and the South Pacific, 260. 23!Sharon Morgan, Land Settlement in Early Tasmania: Creating an Antipodean England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992), 92.! Fig. 28. A View of the Artist’s Garden, Hillston, Springwood (2010-11).! ! 44! English cottage garden with the more familiar and practical kitchen garden. Morgan writes that whilst some information is known it is extremely difficult to really know the true form these early colonial gardens took, but paintings by Glover and artists such as Joseph Lycett and Augustus Earle give us some idea of colonial garden formats and the types of plants they contained.24 As previously acknowledged, Glover painted two garden scenes during his time in Tasmania, the first being Hobart Town taken From My Garden Where I lived (1832). Morgan suggests that this painting could be a credible interpretation of the appearance of a colonial garden.25 “The general state of the plot—only half tamed—suggests the problems facing gardeners of the period. The grass is roughly cut and the paths made of dirt. ‘Glover noted that the geraniums, roses etc. will give some idea how magnificent the Garden may be had here’”.26 Morgan goes on to suggest (unlike Radford) that Glover’s second painting of his house and garden shows more care and effort than early settlers could have afforded and that the painting “gives a more idealised view of the ‘Compleat’ English cottage and garden”.27 In the early days of settlement prior to Glover’s arrival, colonists were too concerned with warding off hunger that what was considered fashionable in England.28 The development of the more fashionable English cottage gardens after Glover’s arrival in 1831 is in contrast to the English Gentleman Parks depicted in the preceding decades by artists such as Joseph Lycett and John Eyre. !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 24!Morgan, Land Settlement in Early Tasmania, 92! 25!Ibid.! 26!Ibid.! 27!Ibid, 93.! 28!Ibid.! ! 45! Fig. 29. Left: Joseph Lycett’s The Residence of John Macarthur Esq. near Parramatta, New South Wales (1825), hand coloured aquatint. Lycett’s hand coloured aquatint The Residence of John Macarthur Esq. near Parramatta, New South Wales (1825) (fig. 29) embodies the notion of the English Gentleman’s Park, which Bonyhady defines in Images in Opposition as typical of the parks designed and constructed by landscape gardener, Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown in the mid-Eighteenth Century.29 In Inventing the English Landscape Garden, Tim Richardson outlines the aesthetics of the Brown landscape as “sweeping pastures grazed by animals right up to the house, a large lake in the middle distance, clumps of trees naturalistically adorning hilltops”,30 all of which is evident in Lycett’s picture. Lycett’s picture also illustrates Brown’s philosophical aim of drawing the surrounding countryside into the Park (garden) and the Picturesque’s need for idealising the view.31 Both Glover and Lycett arrived in Australia at a time of massive expansion of the colony. Bonyhady writes that squatters significantly changed the landscape of the country !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 29!Tim Bonyhady, Images in Opposition: Australian Landscape Painting, 1801–1890 (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1985), 45.! 30!Tim Richardson, Arcadian Friends: Inventing the English Landscape Garden (Second Edition) (London: Transworld Publisher, Bantam Press, 2008), 469.! 31!Ibid.! ! 46! between 1820 and 1850 by rapidly occupying vast tracks of land.32 He argues that artists such as Glover did not paint the usual: “pastoral landscape in the conventional artistic sense, of views in the tradition of Claude Lorrain, giving visual expression to the poetry of Virgil and Ovid and depicting an imagined golden age in which man lived a peaceful rustic existence of primitive simplicity”.33 Rather, Bonyhady proffers that Glover painted Arcadian landscapes that express a sense of simplicity and profusion while simultaneously concealing colonial hardships.34 I believe My Harvest Home (fig. 30), a painting produced in the same year, is intrinsically connected to Glover’s Mills Plains’ house and garden painting. Both views are highly personal and both express Bonyhady’s described notion of ‘ease and plenitude’; equally, both project an “idealising of the view”35 and a drawing in of the landscape around them. Each view and its sentiment are as one. Both paintings were painted for an English audience, but both shroud a darker occurrence—the taking of land. The politics of land and landscape, integral to comprehending both the Picturesque and subsequent industrialisation, were exported from England. Before long, Richard Aitken writes, “gardening and remaking the landscape quickly became an overarching term for territorial improvement”.36 Again, the legal document that granted Glover the land where he built his house and realised his garden explicitly demanded that he ‘improve’ the plot. In Australian Pastoral: The Making of a White Landscape, Jeanette Hoorn reads My Harvest Home as a celebration on three levels: “it celebrates Glover’s own triumph, his success as an emigrant farmer in Tasmania and finally, it celebrates the displacement of local aboriginal people, a process Glover had himself supported by donating funds to George Augustus Robinson and personally painting him a picture in which he congratulates Robinson for his efforts”.37 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 32!Bonyhady, Images in Opposition, 40.! 33!Ibid.! 34!Ibid.! 35!Ibid.! 36!Aitkin, The Garden of Ideas, 45.! 37!Jeanette Hoorn, Australian Pastoral: The Making of a White Landscape, (Fremantle Press 2007), 75.! ! 47! Fig. 31. Left: John Glover, Natives at a Corrobory, under the Wild Woods of the Country (1835). Fig. 30. Left: John Glover, My Harvest Home (1835). Robinson, known as the Chief Protector of the Aborigines, was charged with rounding up the last three-hundred Tasmanian Aborigines for transportation and resettlement on Flinders Island; many were to die of illness or homesickness. There is a general understanding by scholars, including Bonyhady and Hoorn, that there are two main strands to Glover’s colonial landscape paintings. One figures Australia as a “pastoral arcadia”, the other as an “Aboriginal Arcadia”.38 Hoorn notes that “the absence of aboriginal people is notable in most of Glover’s compositions about European land use” and emphasises that this can be explained because it was commonly know that John Batman and George Augustus Robinson had taken the local Aboriginal people captive around Patterdale by 1832.39 !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 38 Ibid, 40. 39 Ibid, 79. ! 48! In discussing the absence of Aboriginal people in the majority of Glover’s pictures that portray pastoral settlement, Hoorn makes clear that Glover was aware of the discourse that circulated around the capture and removal of local of Aboriginal people and that, at the time he commits to canvas both a vision of his house and garden and his successful harvest he knew not only of the violence perpetrated against the local Aboriginal people but also the brutality that was inflicted in the surrounding area. In many of Glover’s depictions of Aboriginal people there is no hint of dispossession or capture. Quite the contrary, Natives at a Corrobory, under the Wild Woods of the Country (1835) (fig. 31)—painted the same year as Glover’s house, garden, and harvest pictures and given as a gift to G. A. Robinson—portrays the enactment of a ceremonial custom by an Aboriginal community. Hoorn further notes that Glover enacted a pictorial solution that distanced Europeans from these unfortunate events in an attempt to allow the viewer to avoid the unpleasantness of the subject of the removal and exile of Aboriginal people.40 Conclusion In this chapter I explored the notion of the transition from the settler garden, one primarily more concerned with survival and the production of food, to what Glover planted—a garden that combined food with the emerging trend towards a flowering English cottage garden. I have also explored Glover’s making and painting of a garden, and connected these actions with his understanding and support for the capture and removal of the local Aboriginal people. I have made aesthetic comparisons between Glover’s garden paintings Hobart Town taken from the Garden where I lived (1832) and the main subject of this chapter A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land (1835). Framed by this work, I have touched upon Glover’s colonial version of the Picturesque and the notion of the idealised landscape view as it pertains to his house and garden painting. This painting is not typical of Glover’s more classical ‘Claudian’ oeuvre per se but, in my view, remains connected to his earlier works through its expression of many !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! 40!Ibid, 84.! ! 49! Picturesque traits: an idealised view of his garden, a romanticised, highly composed vision of the land and, like his earlier English, Italian, and more classical Picturesque paintings, an implied narrative. ! ! ! ! In the next chapter I explore several key paintings by British artist Stanley Spencer and in particular, his individualistic working methods. I compare and contrast the two quite distinctive, yet related strands of his oeuvre; his figurative subject paintings and English garden landscape paintings. In the second half of the chapter I examine Spencer’s version of the picturesque, his choice of subject and, in relation to my own work, three main influences; the material quality of his work, his methodology and the highly original compositional structures he deployed.   50   Fig. 32. Left: John Constable, Golding Constable’s Kitchen Garden (1815). Fig. 33. Right: Alfred Parson, Orange Lillies (date unknown, exhibited in Feb 1909). Chapter Three: Stanley Spencer: Painting the English Landscape Garden Introduction My interest in the paintings and working methods of Stanley Spencer (1891–1959) have inspired and informed this research from the start. In the previous chapter I discussed the development of the Picturesque and its significance for artists like Glover in order to better understand the historical relationship between gardening and painting and highlight the cultural and political dimensions of this landscape aesthetic. This chapter outlines Spencer’s highly individualistic version of the Picturesque and demonstrates his extension and development of the pictorial representation of landscape. Spencer’s wide range of subject matter and two distinct painting styles make him hard to categorise. As acclaimed representations of the English landscape, however, his works exemplify a key progression in cultural negotiations around the Picturesque and the long history of landscape depiction. Spencer’s garden landscapes fit within a framework that stretches from John Constable and the emergent Rustic tradition (fig. 32) to Alfred Parson (fig. 33) and Helen Allingham’s early-1900s manifestations of ‘Happy England’, while articulating, alongside contemporaries such as John Nash and Cedric Norris, the vernacular, suburban picturesque that began to emerge in England between 1930 and 1960.   51   Artists of eccentricity and contradiction, John Glover and Stanley Spencer produced large bodies of work that may be generatively read through particular time frames, subject matters, and stylistic variations. Unlike Glover, however, Spencer produced three distinct bodies of work: religious subject paintings, garden landscapes, and portraits. Although I am primarily concerned with Spencer’s English landscape garden paintings in the present study, I begin by drawing on two subject paintings to illustrate what I believe to be an underlying link between Spencer’s naturalistic landscape garden pictures and his highly stylised, figurative subject paintings. I then examine two of his English landscape paintings and outline their relevance to my own work, and finally give a detailed analysis of the methodological, material, and compositional influences Spencer had on my work. Reverence, garden culture, and picturing place Spencer began Zacharias and Elizabeth (1913–1914) (fig. 34) when he was just twenty- four. It is set in a churchyard in Cookham, the town where Spencer lived for most of his life and the subject that underpinned many of his paintings. In Art of the Garden, Martin Postle offers that “for Spencer, Cookham was a virtual Garden of Eden … [he] transformed the village and its inhabitants into a heaven on earth”.1 The spiritual- horticultural concept nexus captured by Postle’s references to an Edenic heaven on earth—a paradise that, crucially, must be (re)produced through the transformation of ‘given’ landscapes—permeates two of the three distinct strands of Spencer’s work and aligns with the colonial and Picturesque cultural threads I analysed in Glover’s A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land.                                                                                                                 1 Stephen Bann, Stephen Daniels, and Martin Postle (eds.), The Art of the Garden: The Garden in British Art, 1800 to the Present Day (London: Tate Publishing, 2004), 113.   52   Fig. 34. Left: Stanley Spencer, Zacharias and Elizabeth (1913–1914). Spencer’s painting depicts the biblical tale of the angel Gabriel’s visitation to Zacharias. Gabriel tells Zacharias that God will answer his and the aging Elizabeth’s prayers for a baby who should be named John—John the Baptist. Describing this scene, Keith Bell suggests that his portrayal of several versions of Zacharias and Elizabeth is probably “inspired by the multiple narrative pictures of the early Italian masters which Spencer was studying at the time”.2 The dramatic high wall enclosing figures of Zacharias on the left-hand side of the composition is described by Bell as “an expression of the artist’s sense of mystery”, what Spencer explains as his “feeling of wonder at what was on the other side”.3 Spencer painted this view from the rear window of the house he was renting at the time. The highly active foreground is made more dramatic by offering a slightly elevated view of what is going on in the churchyard. This perspective, in which a viewer ‘peers over’ and ‘looks down upon’ special secrets contained in a garden, developed into a common compositional trait throughout Spencer’s career. In a 1937 letter to brother-in-law Richard Carline, Spencer explains some of his thinking behind this painting:                                                                                                                 2  Keith Bell, Stanley Spencer, RA (London: Royal Academy of Arts, in association with Weinenfield and Nicolson, 1980), 49.   3  Ibid.     53   Fig. 35. Left: Stanley Spencer, By the River (1935). “I wanted to absorb and finally express the atmosphere and meaning the place had for me … It was to be a painting characterising and exactly expressing the life that I was, at the time, living and seeing about me. It was an attempt to raise that life around me to what I felt was its true status, meaning and purpose”.4 For me, this concept of drawing out meaning and purpose from the world around him and of expressing the meaning the place had for him extends beyond his subject paintings to his more naturalistic landscape garden compositions. Steven Parissien similarly argues that Spencer painted “fields and hedgerows” as if “each one carries with it an element of potential change and a suggestion of higher significance”.5 There is a stage-like quality in the design of this work and we are privy to what is being enacted. Spencer attaches significance to the specialness of the garden as a place, defining it as a human place and therefore a place of sin, suffering, victory, redemption, and ultimately paradise through eternal life. By the River: Bellrope Meadow and Cookham Bridge In the seventeen years that Glover lived in Van Diemen’s Land he produced several paintings of his house, garden, and Patterdale property. Like Glover’s depictions of Mills Plains, Spencer’s English garden landscapes were concerned with the immediate world around him; he painted fields, local gardens, and countryside in the vicinity of what is now known as the Picturesque English village of Cookham.                                                                                                                 4 Ibid. 5 Stephen Parissien, Stanley Spencer and the English Garden (Compton Verney, England: In association with Paul Holbertson Publishing, 2011), 78.   54   Fig. 36. Stanley Spencer, Bellrope Meadow (1936). Like Zacharias and Elizabeth, By the River (1935) (fig. 35) has a Cookham garden as its setting. Keith Bell writes that “Spencer identified this scene as Bellrope Meadow with Cookham bridge in the distance and the church tower above the trees”.6 This is significant because the church tower and Bellrope Meadow are the subjects of one of Spencer’s most important garden landscape paintings. Bellrope Meadow (1936) (fig. 36) was painted the year after By the River, and I believe among Spencer’s works, expresses the strongest connection—in terms of its appearance, atmospherics, detailed articulation of plants, and subject’s significance to the artist—to Glover’s house and garden painting. Loaded with immense detail and offering up distant glimpses hemmed in by dense imagery, Bellrope Meadow and By the River share a composition of opposing, dual focal points and a cleverly divided visual order achieved through a series of interlocking diagonals and triangular structures. In the foreground of By the River, Spencer flattens and opens out the picture plane, yet in the mid- and distant-views, he shifts back to a more conventional perspectival framework. This flattening of the foreground and opening out of mid- and distant-views is a technique he uses in many of his garden landscape compositions to heighten viewer perception. It offers the viewer a close-up look and an experience of what the artist has experienced.                                                                                                                 6 Bell, Stanley Spencer, RA, 49.   55   Addressing By the River, Bell writes that Spencer “probably intended to retain the dual meaning of the picture in the blending of springtime bliss and religious joy”.7 This blending of meaning (and Spencer’s awareness of it) combines with the blending of conventional and nonconventional compositional devices to reveal Spencer’s Pre- Raphaelite influences. Andrew Causey identifies in many of Spencer’s paintings “a Pre- Raphaelite mixture of close-up figures and glimpses of deep space”.8 Apparent in Bellrope Meadow, Bell writes that Spencer “took considerable care over the accuracy of the landscape settings in his figure paintings”.9 If we look to subject paintings like Zacharias and Elizabeth and By the River, we can garner some insight into the compositional strength and meaning expressed in Spencer’s garden landscape paintings. By the River, for instance, is marked by a duality of stylistic techniques; plants in the foreground are rendered stylistically as if Spencer were depicting figures, but as we move through the painting and beyond, the buildings, plants, and garden morph, becoming more detailed and naturalistic in their portrayal. Bell offers a further layer of insight: “Spencer’s interest in formal abstract design (which is prevalent in his subject paintings) is evident in the flower-patterned dress of the young girl who clings to the artist’s leg, a shape which is reflected in the bunch of real flowers which he holds above her. The triangular shape reappears in the dress of the woman reclining in the foreground, the two dimensionally of which is echoed by her upper torso and head, which bears some resemblance to some late manifestations of Cubism”.10 The great success of Spencer’s subject paintings lies in his ability to blend an ambiguous narrative with awkward, often distorted and stylised depictions in highly complex compositional structures. This bringing together of inventive composition, narrative, and an idiosyncratic version of reality gives rise to an intense viewer experience. I would also argue that what we experience in Zacharias and Elizabeth and By the River, while stylistically very different, finds expression in the complex compositional structures also deployed in many of Spencer’s garden landscapes.                                                                                                                 7  Ibid, 134.   8  Andrew Causey, “Stanley Spencer and the Art of his Time” (Stanley Spencer, RA, 1980), 19.   9  Bell, Stanley Spencer, RA, 149.   10  Ibid, 134.     56   Fig. 37. Stanley Spencer, Stinging Nettles (1926). Stinging Nettles: Method and Composition A significant aspect of Stanley Spencer’s landscape paintings is that they are not preoccupied with the notion of the grand vista. They are much more personal explorations of particular places. Whilst Spencer regularly articulates a distant view, the view is often reached via an active, highly organised foreground. In many cases, the distance and what is depicted is pictorially subservient to the foreground’s subject. The distant view is required to place the subject, to add to the sense of naturalism, and to help articulate space and time, but not to override the image with a dramatic sky or atmospherics. This sits at odds with historical Picturesque framing conventions and artists like Constable and Turner; it locates Spencer in Modernism. An example of this mode of depiction is Spencer’s Wangford landscape Stinging Nettles (1926) (fig. 37). By positioning the horizon line towards the top of the picture Spencer sites himself and his viewers directly in front of the titular subject of the painting. We encounter a full side-view of the nettles and, as in many of Spencer’s pictures, are invited to peer over to what lies beyond. The curved abundance of the nettles entirely fills the foreground except for the subtle flash of a green-blue pond on the left of the frame. Variations of contrasting green almost entirely make up the picture; Spencer offers us very little difference, except for the soft orange of the flowers on the right-hand side in the   57   Fig. 38. Left: Stanley Spencer, The Bridle Path, Cookham (1938). Fig. 39. Right: Stanley Spencer, Cookham Rise (1938). mid-distance and the dark browns of the buildings clustered along the horizon. Spencer activates the mid-distance and draws us in by accentuating the detail and by attaching visual significance to the fence and the reeds on the far bank of the pond as they trace across the landscape. Both paintings mimic the other’s repeating vertical form and re-emphasises the same vertical form expressed in the stems and leaf structures of the stinging nettles. Two works that illustrate the artist’s proclivity for this format and the high positioning of the horizon can be seen in figures 38 and 39. As in Stinging Nettles, he activates the middle-distance of the picture through the use of either a clump of trees or a cluster of houses. In his time, some considered Spencer to have “modern, European tendencies”—a “Pre-Raphaelite who had looked at Cezanne”—and other, more conservative critics who praised the Englishness of his landscapes.11 This application of a modernist eye to the overt, technical detail required of his Pre-Raphaelite aesthetic may explain where Spencer sits in terms of English landscape painting and the originality of his compositions. Describing his feeling about this painting in a 1927 letter to his friend Desmond Chute, Spencer wrote: “This stinging nettle one (Stinging Nettles, painted at Wangford, Suffolk) is more imaginative as a composition (than some of the other paintings). I had real feelings about it and something is growing in me as a result of having painted it, this last fact is what made me feel that my desire to be able to paint a landscape is not without reason”.12                                                                                                                 11  Bell, Stanley Spencer, RA, 26.   12  Duncan Robinson, Stanley Spencer’s Gardens, (Plaidon Press, Oxford, 1990), 26.     58   Fig. 40. Stanley Spencer, Magnolia (1938). When viewing Stinging Nettles, I don’t just see a landscape, I see a portrait of stinging nettles in a very particular landscape. By framing the view the way he has, Spencer has brought the nettles to life and at the same time attached a metaphoric theological significance to them. The human activity inherent in the landscape views Spencer painted hark back to his earliest childhood and to how he attached human significance to the visible world: “… as a child I used to peep through the chinks and cracks in fences, etc and catch glimpses of these gardens of Eden of which there was a profusion at Cookham. From these glimpses I used to get, I assumed that some sort of saint or very wonderful person lived there”.13 Magnolia: The importance of the foreground The second work of Spencer’s of special relevance is Magnolia (1938) (fig. 40), painted between the World Wars during a highly productive time for the artist. Magnolia was painted in the Spring of 1938 and “on 5 April he wrote to his long-term Art Dealer, Dudley Tooth, that it was as good as anything I have done”.14 He continued to work on the painting for the next two weeks and Tooth sold it immediately to a private collector. Magnolia, like Spencer’s The Jubilee Tree Cookham (1936) (fig. 41), Landscape in North Wales (1938) (fig. 42), Bellrope Meadow (fig.36), and many others, displays the artist’s inclination to make the foreground subject a key overriding component of the work. In each, the foreground subject either partially blocks, shrouds, or entwines the distant view and in doing so adds weight to its significance and the illusion of distance.                                                                                                                 13  Parissien, Stanley Spencer’s Architecture, 90.   14  Bell, Stanley Spencer, RA, 169.     59   Fig. 41. Left: Stanley Spencer, The Jubilee Tree, Cookham (1936). Fig. 42. Right: Stanley Spencer, Landscape in North Wales (1938). When we study Magnolia, Spencer’s positioning of the branches and flowers appears quite naturalistic as they reach inwardly from the right-hand edge of the picture frame. They systematically extend across the picture plane, leaving openings that reveal vital sections of the background. Spencer carefully delivers just enough visual information for our imagination to complete the background picture; he leaves us expectant, visually engaged but searching for just a little bit more. If we were to omit the branches and clusters in Magnolia this would still be a highly active scene. The combination of the garden-bed and bushes in the foreground, the large central trunk positioned in the mid-ground, the fence and row of trees that mark the transition to the distance, and the fields, houses, and fading hills would constitute enough subject matter for most landscape painters, but Spencer wanted to create that sense of mystery and ‘special meaning’ when visualising his world.15 Magnolia exemplifies the type of compositional structure by Spencer that I am most drawn to. When I go into the field, I seek out similar scenarios to trail and position myself to capture both foreground detail and distance. I’m not setting out to replicate a Spencer, but to develop this as my own system and imbue my paintings with a high                                                                                                                 15  Parissien, Stanley Spencer’s Architecture, 78.     60   Fig. 43. Golden Shadows, Hillston (2012). degree of (formal) energy. As a gardener, I believe the interaction between the colours, textures, and scales of different plants give a garden its appearance, its many layers which make it visually sustaining. Three main influences: Materiality; Methodology; Composition Materiality Golden Shadows, Hillston (fig. 43), produced in 2012 after my UK Field Trip, is a work that demonstrates the changes in thinking and approach that resulted from the study of Spencer’s working methods and paintings. This study initiated changes to the material quality of my work as well as changes to the methodological approach I took to my en plein air painting practice, and it led to the trialling and implementation of new compositional structures. While informed by my study of Spencer, these changes did not mirror his methods directly; they were modifications to my work practises based on a critical analysis of his methods and approach. In the first instance, it is important to discuss materiality. The information gained from viewing Spencer’s paintings up close and for sustained periods of time was a totally different proposition to the information I had previously garnered via reproductions. On close inspection, the surface of Spencer’s paintings show very little evidence of conventional glazing techniques. From the photographic evidence that exists of Spencer working and my own observations of the surface quality of his paintings it is clear that as   61   Fig. 44. Stanley Spencer, The Garden, Cookham Rise (1952). each section of a painting was completed he moved on to complete the next section. His paintings are concrete evidence that his brush marks and application of paint were confidently and very directly applied in what is known as the look and put method. His method for articulating forms is tonal, breaking down complex objects graphically into coherent variations of colour and tone. A very good example of this technique is the painting The Garden at Cookham Rise (1952) (fig. 44), which demonstrates Spencer’s ability to clearly define the smallest detail amongst the chaos of multi-coloured stones, flowers, garden stakes, and the array of overlapping, green-on-green foliage. Whilst not as overt, I incorporated a distilled version of this technique into my own work (fig. 43). As a result of viewing Spencer’s paintings first-hand I decided to change the type of canvas I had been using and opted for a much heavier weight and broader weave (18 oz. Chinese linen). I made this decision to force myself to apply more paint and to achieve a more unified, complete surface. My intention was to move away from the sketchy surface seen in (fig. 45) to a multilayered, fully covered ground that expressed the combined physicality of the canvas substrate and the painted image (see fig. 47). My intention was to express a fluent directionality within the brush marks so that the viewer could clearly determine that the surface had been extensively worked and more highly resolved in comparison to my earlier works (fig. 47). Prior to starting Golden Shadows, Hillston the canvas was triple primed, then coated with two solid layers of acrylic paint in brilliant   62   Fig. 45. Left: Detail section from Study, Autumn Hillston (2011). Fig. 46. Right: Detail section from Stanley Spencer’s Landscape in North Wales (1938). orange. The layers of gesso and orange acrylic base coats that constituted the underlying ground helped to increase the intensity of the composition’s different colours as well as the overall presence of the painting’s surface. Even though this differs from the final effects he achieved, my intention was to emulate the physical presence of paint that was evident in his work. Until this time I had been using white, single-primed 10 oz. cotton duck canvas and, like Spencer, my paintings had tiny flecks of white canvas clearly visible on the surface of the finished works (fig. 45, 46). In many of Spencer’s landscape paintings the flecks of white canvas are quite pronounced. This effect was something I wanted to eliminate. These unpainted flecks occurred in part because of the practicalities of painting with oils using the look and put method, and in part because of the self-imposed time imperatives of working outdoors. Other contributing factors are the fluidity, mix-ability, and extended drying time of oils, as well as the reality that painting wet on wet makes it difficult to retain the purity of colour and to avoid muddiness. Up until this point each en plein air painting had been completed in one session. To avoid muddiness and retain the desired colour purity, a painting’s construction, its colours and tones, was predominately accomplished by placing brush mark beside brush mark. Blending and modelling were achieved subsequently by working those individually placed paint marks together. By pre-priming and pre-coating the canvas I was able block the white of the canvas and realise a smoother surface that allowed for more consistent paint flow. The acrylic sealed the canvas and reduced brush-drag while allowing the oil paint to better cover the surface. This made it easier to achieve the lyrical freedom and articulate more confident,   63   Fig. 47. Left: Detail section showing the coverage and density of the surface of Golden Shadows, Hillston (2012). Fig. 48, 49, 50, Left to Right: Detail sections from Golden Shadows, Hillston (2012). directly observed brush marks when working from life. By combining a more layered physical surface with glazed and blended atmospherics and carefully articulated forms, I was able to meld the advantages of both my en plein air and studio practices. Using Spencer’s model, I applied similar levels of detail to every part of the painting— foreground, mid-ground, and background—in an attempt to intensify the viewer experience and draw the viewer closer. The colours and level of plant detail depicted in Golden Shadows, Hillston, while based on life, have been adjusted and intensified in relation to one another. The brush marks, choice of colours, and tonal variations that articulate the central arching tree form have been modelled and blended to combine and contrast with the detailed multi-layered highlights (fig. 48). In several key areas I have employed muted variants of Dioxazine Purple, Australian Red Gold, and Naples Yellow Reddish (fig. 49) to accent the overall atmospherics and to embed a visual consistency that circulates throughout the picture. At different times over the course of a week thin layers of Dioxazine Purple were used as an over-glaze in many   64   of the passages of deep shadow to increase contrast, suppress definition, and add a sense of mystery by deepening the recesses of shadow (fig. 50). To achieve these effects I worked with fast drying mediums and produced the work during several painting sessions allowing for drying time. Methodology The key methodological influences garnered as a result of my review of Spencer’s en plein air landscape paintings were practical and led to significant advances. As far as I can ascertain Spencer never used photographic reference, preferring to spend many days in the field taking what time was needed to complete each work. After choosing his subject he would accurately draw up (often using a grid system) in pencil on canvas a detailed version of the finished composition and then literally fill it in with oil paint. Starting in one corner he would work across the surface fully completing each section as he went all the while referring back to the details of the scene in front of him. This is a highly unusual way of working and leaves little room for error. The crucial element that I took away from Spencer’s method was how he situated himself in front of his subject day after day and worked directly from life to achieve the complexity he was seeking. The most significant changes I made to my methodological approach were: • to consider the en plein air works equal to, and not just studies for, the studio based works; • to spend considerably more time on each work and produce substantially larger paintings in the field; • to meld the visual effects and techniques of the en plein air and studio practice (e.g. multilayered painting and glazing). Throughout this research and into the future, the level of detail and naturalism I employ is constantly under review. When starting a work, I sketch up my subject in paint delineating the size and scale of each main element setting out a framework for the overall compositional structure. One way to describe this would be as a large thumbnail sketch. Once I have defined the general parameters of the picture I work from the centre out, adjusting elements of the schematic as I proceed. This method differs from   65   Fig. 51. Left: Uplands House, The Flower Urn (2011). Spencer’s detailed initial rendering but allows me a degree of flexibility and the ability to respond intuitively as I proceed. These practical changes in methodology allowed me to better integrate the different strengths of my en plein air and studio practice. Composition Compositionally, I sought to challenge the orthodoxy of some of the works produced up to this date that depicted a centralised motif, a defined horizon, and a somewhat standard layout of foreground, mid-ground, and background (fig. 51). The compositional structure of Golden Shadows, Hillston is inherently linked to the central tenet expressed by the content of the picture, which is the dominant tree and its shadows. These qualities are defined by the visualisation of the interplay of light and shadow and the all- encompassing atmospherics that join with this scene’s deliberate emphasis of the garden’s enclosure. Starting in the foreground and moving back through the picture, the dark bush in Golden Shadows, Hillston serves a similar purpose to Spencer’s Stinging Nettles. This intruding form sites the viewer in front of the subject but also acts as a partial barrier. My intention was that the bush would create the sense of ‘peering’ into the garden. The foliage and   66   Fig. 52, Fig. 53, Fig. 54. Left to right: Golden Shadows, Hillston (2012). purple flowers are positioned to subtly radiate along the perimeter of its curved form to further accentuate the arch of the shadow (fig. 54). The tendrils of the foreground shadows reach back to connect and ground the bush within the painting. The foreground shadows while reflecting the shape of the tree (fig. 54) add to the complex matrix of intersecting lines. The combination of the arching branches, the dark bush, and the shadows sets up a rhythm within the painting which in turn sits in opposition to the angularity of the two hedged forms in the centre of the picture. The curve of the shadow was intentionally positioned to signify a pathway for the viewer. And the prominent dark bush along with the similarly shaped clump of bromeliads around the base of the main tree step back through the composition and are mimicked by the position and shape of the orange bush in the mid-distance (fig. 52). The dark branches of the small yellow tree on the left-hand side of the composition act as a visual link to join the curving upper branches with the shadows in the foreground (fig. 53). The flaming yellow-orange foliage has been intentionally intensified to draw the viewer’s gaze towards a glimpse of the garden beyond the hedge framed to accentuate the symmetrical tension created by the position of the opposing view on the right-hand side of the composition (fig. 53).   67   Conclusion Spencer, while significant for me in terms of his compositional approach, is equally informative because he was an en plein air landscape painter. Also of great interest is the way he applied paint, his complex application of shifting tones, and how he was able to separate objects through contrasting elements, halos, and the use of deep shadows. ! ! ! ! In the next chapter I discuss the practice of painting en plein air during my field trip to the UK in 2011. I give a brief history of the five key gardens I painted and provide a detailed analysis of several of the works that informed my practice beyond my field study. I explore the material I took and the bearing this had on the paintings I made. I also take the opportunity to build on some of the ideas expressed about composition and discuss how I implemented these ideas in the field.   68   Chapter Four: UK Field Trip: En Plein Air and the English Garden Introduction A field trip to the UK in September 2011 was essential to my exploration of the English garden, estate gardens, and other more elaborate, historic garden forms. It also provided me with the opportunity to study and paint both large and small-scale domestic European gardens in England. The study of these gardens and the resultant paintings helped inform the subsequent body of work. This chapter surveys my pictorial response to the gardens I studied and the framework of that study. During this time my focus was on compositional elements common to gardening and painting such as colour, light, unity, scale, variety, balance, repeating forms, texture, the artificial, and most importantly compositional structure. As part of this chapter I provide a brief history of each garden to give some context to the types of gardens I encountered (e.g. knot garden, parterre garden, Picturesque estate garden) (figs. 55 and 56). The works produced helped provide a frame of reference for the less grand but nonetheless European type gardens I went on to paint back in Australia. As part of the field study I also visited the township of Cookham, the home of artist Stanley Spencer. I further outline some methodological, compositional, and stylistic approaches of his that influenced my work. These paintings are a response to my study of his works and my decision to locate myself (like Spencer) inside the garden looking out. The work produced on the field trip was a continuation of my experimentation and my depiction of an often centralised garden feature where I seek to activate the foreground content to express a stage-like Fig. 55. Left: ornamental Sunken Garden at Kensington Gardens (2011). Fig. 56. Right: Hedged form, Kensington Gardens (2011).   69   quality. Whilst some of my methodology relating to Spencer’s work was discussed in the precious chapter I re-emphasise some of those ideas and provide further discussion as they relate to specific en plein air works. Whilst there were others, the gardens specifically outlined in this chapter include Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens, Cliveden House, Uplands House, and Compton Verney. Hyde Park and Kensington Gardens The first garden I painted was Hyde Park in central London. Hyde Park’s current form has been shaped by a complicated history that extends back over the last nine hundred years. Henry VIII acquired the Park from the Monks of Westminster Abbey in 1536 and turned it into a hunting park. In the Eighteenth Century Queen Caroline, a keen gardener, took three hundred acres from the park to create the Kensington Gardens. While there, I painted two scenes of Hyde Park and one of Kensington Gardens. The ornamental Sunken Garden at Kensington Gardens was of particular interest because of its enclosed, stage-like design. Whilst I missed the opportunity to paint it due to inclement weather, I did get the chance to make some detailed sketches between intermittent showers. Planted in 1908, the garden “was modeled on a similar garden at Hampton Court Palace and celebrated a style of gardening seen in the 18th Century”.1 Designed in classical proportion the garden was set around a central pond bordered on all four sides by floral terraces that stepped up to ground                                                                                                                 1 Historic Royal Palaces, http://www.hrp.org.uk/KensingtonPalace/stories/sunkengardens (2016). Fig. 57. Left: The Pine, Hyde Park (2011). Fig. 58. Middle: Oak and Hedge, Kensington Gardens (2011). Fig. 59. Right: Oaks, Hyde Park (2011).   70   level. One viewed the garden from above by looking over a wall and were prevented from entry. This idea of a walled garden oasis (with water at the centre) harks back to notions of Eden and offers links with Persian, 7th Century Islamic garden design. When painting The Pine, Hyde Park (2011) (fig. 57) I decided to focus on the dark colours and head-like shape evident in the large pine. It dominated the view, dwarfing the neighbouring trees. Because of its size and deep, rich, blue-green tones, and given that it was quite an overcast morning, it seemed to attract the surrounding light and hold it within. Partly because of its scale, I decided to position the pine in the centre of the frame and shape the clouds in the top half of the sky to magnify this central position. At the time, as a tribute, the clouds were changed to resemble clouds I’d observed in a John Constable painting. The clouds were angled gently inward to direct and hold the viewer’s gaze on the pine. I reshaped the size, form, and position of the garden-bed in the foreground to mirror the scale of the clouds to, again, accentuate the pine. When painting the lower part of the sky I strengthened the highlights of the clouds to amplify the sense of luminosity and the horizontality of the composition. Of the twenty-four paintings produced on the field trip only two were in landscape format. In Oak and Hedge, Kensington Gardens (2011) (fig. 58), I again centralized the oak as the main motif, which in turn created a strong vertical element and divided the upper section of the picture plane. I decided to paint this scene for several reasons. I was first attracted by the luminosity of the oak leaves (which has been substantially enhanced) that lit up each time the sun appeared from behind the clouds. My intention was to imbue the oak tree with human-like qualities and to create a sense of rhythm and movement. What initially drew me to this scene was the potential for a horizontal split composition and the dichotomy it would set up between the chaos of the leaves and the upright twisted oak against the controlled flatness of the clipped hedge. Cliveden House: The Long Garden Cliveden House contains arguably one of England’s most renowned gardens. The beginnings of Cliveden House date back to the 1600s and its garden has had a rich   71   and varied history. The house is set on 376 acres and is a National Trust managed Grade One listed formal gardens and woodland. The famous Parterre was originally designed in 1855 by John Fleming whose planting schemes became world- renowned.4 The beds of the Parterre garden we see today have been restored to their former state based on Fleming’s original designs. As well as the various formal gardens the grounds consist of extensive woodlands that overlook the River Thames. The woodlands both separate and help define each differently themed garden. The part of the garden I mainly concentrated on was the Long Garden and I spent two days painting there. The Italian-style Long Garden was developed by Lord Astor and comprised topiary forms of different birds, box hedges, cork-screw shapes and was designed in 1900 by Norah Lindsay.5 Whilst there I concentrated on articulating the forms of the topiary; again I found it difficult to portray the expansive scale of this garden. The sculptured bird form pictured in the painting Bird in the Long Garden (2011) (fig. 60) was approximately three metres tall and almost as wide. As a gardener, I marveled at the density of the foliage and the masterful pruning. On close inspection, I could clearly see the modeling of the form created by the shears. Each cut apparent and purposeful, not unlike a freshly shorn sheep. This modeling of the pine, bit by bit, is not unlike the approach I would take to paint the same form. The illusion created through careful                                                                                                                 4  National Trust, http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/cliveden/ (2015). 5 Ibid. Fig. 60. Left: Bird in the Long Garden (2011). Fig. 61. Centre: The Daleks, Cliveden House, Long Garden (2011). Fig. 62. Right: Topiary Bird, Long Garden Cliveden House (2011–2012).   72   rendering and attention to detail takes shape when viewed from a distance. When pruning or hedging my own garden I constantly refer to the colours and tone of the old and new growth. Intuitively I seek that perfect midway point at which to cut. Equally, I intuitively seek to balance the level of detail I apply to represent the illusion of such a form in combination with colour and tone. This illustrates the significance of process and materiality in the outcomes of painting and gardening. While the forms and layout of the Long Garden were complex, as can be observed from the paintings, the plant and floral colours within the garden were kept to just three: shades of green, light violet, and a soft yellow. What was most significant about this garden was that the forms were deliberately designed as an interplay and to be viewed from every angle. As one moves through the space the relationship between each sculpted-form changed dramatically, not unlike a theatre-in-the-round. The garden’s layout also consisted of a series of internal channels between the hedged beds, which allowed one to interact and fully experience the topiary forms. The garden also contained an outer path that allowed one to view the closed garden internally as a whole. The experience was akin to being an actor on a stage set, unlike gardens that envelop a visitor or direct one towards a specific view. When painting Bird in the Long Garden (2011) I exaggerated the angle and direction of the clouds to help counterbalance but heighten the effect and angle of the bird leaning into the picture frame. When I first saw the bird form I felt it was shaped in such a way as to appear to be about to take flight. This action was further emphasised by my decision to lower the horizon line to give the bird scale and an heroic presence, as well as to create drama through separation by using the sky as a flattened pictorial backdrop. The idea behind this painting was to place this re- imagined bird centre-stage, against the sky ready for takeoff. The positioning of the bird makes use of positive and negative space by increasing contrast. The bird’s shape is also situated to frame the garden beyond. Its form, whilst modeled, is orientated to sit in parallel to the picture plane thus greatly enhancing its graphic form. This also isolates the bird to express the inherent function and formal beauty of topiary and hedged plants. The bird’s outline provides two pictorial windows by encircling the lower sections of the background. The exaggerated perspective employed on the receding hedged garden beds in the middle-distance provides a   73   polarity and contrasting illusionistic depth. Through this, these perspectival forms are then grounded within the composition by the enhanced depth of the tone applied to the shadows in the backdrop of trees. This in turn defines the garden’s enclosure. The surreal nature of the clouds were purposely designed almost as a pattern to link and reinforce the graphic qualities within the work. They were also devised to augment the idiosyncratic nature of the hedged bird. When painting, I also reshaped the top outline of the backdrop of trees to form an arc, amplify the curving form of the bird, and to create harmony, rhythm, and a sense of movement. This also stands in opposition to the stark angular forms represented in the lower section of the composition. The limited palette and uniformity of colour were employed to maintain simplicity and to prioritise the bird by conveying the obsessive formal nature of topiary and the almost comical features of what is depicted. Cliveden House: The Parterre Garden The formal parterre garden at Cliveden House was designed, ultimately, to be viewed from the terrace in front of the house but because of its vast scale I was more interested in depicting the detail and individual elements from ground level. The spike-like forms that punctuated the garden drew my attention immediately. Like sentinels, they stood at variance to the more organic shapes expressed inside the formal beds. The decorative circular beds anchored these angular forms to the ground adding to their incongruity and presence. As can be seen from the painting Fig. 63. Left: Parterre Garden, Cliveden House (2011). Fig. 64. Right: View from the Parterre Garden, Cliveden House (2011).     74   and photograph (figs. 63 and 64), on either side of the parterre garden and separating lawn there are banks of trees that formed a less formal backdrop. In the painting Parterre Garden, Cliveden House (2011) these were employed graphically, almost as cutouts to help heighten the formal qualities of the foreground parterre subject. Inspired by these circular hedge forms at Cliveden House and the Cherry Doughnut in Kingswood (see Chapter 6) I set about introducing similar hedged forms in my own garden as subjects for painting (figs. 65 and 66). Whilst I step back from creating recognisable forms like those in the Long Garden I am interested in the formal properties of hedging: defining space, partitioning sections of gardens, or containing and embellishing other quite different plants. In my own garden, I have predominately used hedges to highlight productive trees like the numerous citrus, pomegranate, and quince trees planted since the commencement of this study. While topiary is a recognised art form in many cultures (e.g. Japanese cloud-pruning or French parterre gardens) through the creation of what is sometimes termed living sculpture, my own intent is to provide structure as part of the overall layout of a garden and soft protection to fruiting trees. Also, as pictured in The Cherry Doughnut, Kingwood Western Sydney (2011) (fig. 113, p. 125), a key work I discuss in more depth in Chapter Six, my aesthetic leaning is for the formal (nonrepresentational) hedged elements of a garden to sit in contrast to the irregular, surprising, or exotic. Compton Verney: Brown’s England One of the difficulties in defining particular periods of garden style is the overlapping timeframes and interpretation of what constitutes a particular form. As Fig. 65., Fig. 66. Circular forms implemented in Springwood in 2013 – 2014.     75   ideas emerged and gardens were implemented they would subsequently gain wider support. Established landscape gardeners would cling obstinately to what they understood of taste, refinement, or tradition and garden landscapes gradually transitioned as inclinations changed. Estate gardens like Cliveden House contained several different forms, some of which are revivals of past manifestations. Prior to the 1720’s the “axial formalism”6 of the French parterre garden in England was fortified by Royal support. The subsequent move away from the prescribed rigidity of these garden to one which espoused Englishness and the improving of existing countryside was considered radical and based on the idea that gardens “demanded a succession of pictures”.7 Capability Brown’s rise to prominence ushered in the era of the ‘Parkland garden’ and what was considered a more natural form of gardening took hold in the 1750s. Brown remade hills, planted and repositioned existing trees into irregular clumps, diverted streams to create serpentine lakes and opened up the countryside to frame vistas.8 Others argued that Brown’s creations were not natural enough. Brown’s parklands like Compton Verney were important for two reasons. First, this era was overwhelmed by the Picturesque aesthetic. Second, what Glover found on his arrival in Tasmania resembled Brown’s aesthetic and was described as the open Picturesque parkland ready to paint. This changed landscape we now acknowledge was the result of Aboriginal fire-stick farming, the propagators of which are referred to by Bill Gammage as “Australia’s first gardeners … they first managed country for plants. They knew which grew where, and which they must tend or transplant”.9 Bruce Pascoe presents extensive evidence that Australia’s Aboriginal people “domesticated plants, grew crops, collected seed, irrigated land, worked to improved soil and built stone structures to store food”.10 Brown became famous for rolling grasslands, ornamental lakes, and Cedars of Lebanon such as the ones he planted at Compton Verney. As previously explored in                                                                                                                 6 Laura Mayer, Capability Brown and the English Landscape Garden (Great Britian: Shire Library, 2011), 9. 7 Roy Strong, The Artist and the Garden (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000), 251. 8 Ibid, 252. 9 Bill Gammage, The Biggest Estate on Earth: How the Aborigines Made Australia (Sydney, Melbourne, Auckland, London: Allen & Unwin, 2011), 3. 10 Pascoe, Dark Emu, 12.   76   Fig. 67. Left: Framed by Cedars, Compton Verney (2011). Fig. 68. Right: Through Big Pines / Compton Verney (2011). Chapter One, the two paintings picturing the grounds at Compton Verney were designed to capture the view within the view or, in compositional terms, the frame within the frame (figs. 67 and 68). Although the estate was vast, like most of my paintings I wanted to focus on what was directly in front of me and construct contained garden pictures. The monumental nature of the trees proved a challenge and was quite a different experience to gardens I had encountered prior to the trip. Brown’s expressed “habit of drawing the surrounding countryside into the garden and of idealising the view”11 was very apparent at Compton Verney with highly composed open views in every direction. At first I found it difficult to isolate my subject and spent considerable time scoping out the garden. After the up-close intensity and detail experienced at the various gardens at Cliveden House, Compton Verney’s organised vistas lacked the bold colour and personality previously experienced. In an affirmation of this Tim Richardson writes: “Brown was striving to be meaningless, to blot out complexity with a smothering pastoralism. The old, idiosyncratic style of gardening was dying away. While the early landscape garden tended to be strange and mythic in character, dependent on artifice and the creation of the stimulating and strange, the Brownian landscape represents the re-creation of what felt comfortably familiar, an ideal version of the English pastoral scene”.12                                                                                                                 11 Tim Richardson, The Arcadian Friends, Inventing the English Landscape Garden (London: Bantam House, The Random House Group, 2007), 469. 12 Ibid.   77   Over the course of my many field trips I have largely steered clear of the pastoral scene being drawn to what Richardson describes as the mythic and strange— dependent on artifice. This idea of seeking out and stimulating the strange took hold in subsequent paintings produced at The Everglades in the Blue Mountains which is discussed in greater detail in Chapter Five. Uplands House: Cotswolds Uplands House was built in 1875 with the stone from the old Ratley Manor, a local 12th Century house. The garden faces south and looks out over what is now farm land, remnants of a much larger garden estate that was designed by the earlier mentioned purveyor of “the ideal English Parkscape”13 Capability Brown. Still clearly visible from Uplands house is the Ha-ha (which is a recessed landscape element the impedes livestock whilst providing an uninterrupted view) and clumps of trees that Brown is now famous for. The garden consisted of several quite distinct areas: the pond and rose garden, the garden terrace, which was closest to the house, the lawn garden, and an extensive kitchen garden, which provided produce for the house. As is often the case, the kitchen garden was purposely hidden from view by hedges and as a working garden was attractive in its own right. Uplands’ garden layout had similarities to gardens I had painted back in Australia: a view from a house, then a garden that looked directly onto paddocks or, in this case, fields. One thing was markedly different; in the Cotswolds, the transition from garden to field was relatively seamless compared to the harshness of the Australian experience. In Australia, the transition between the garden’s edge and the paddock is much more stark; the plants are more alien, more obviously imposed, but visually I                                                                                                                 13 Mayer, Capability Brown and the English Landscape Garden, 33. Fig. 69. Uplands House Garden Panorama (2011).   78   have been conditioned to accept this. Painting this scene provided visual evidence of an opposing reality. Several of the other paintings produced of this garden mirrored compositional structures I’d experienced at Rowan’s garden in Newcastle. Study for View of the Artist’s Garden My painting Study for View of the Artist’s Garden (2011) (fig. 70) whilst pictorially very different, was an important catalyst in the production of Uplands House Garden Panorama (2011) (fig. 69) and prompted the panoramic format. I had painted my own garden in Springwood, a view of the garden backed by native bush ostensibly as a portrait of the garden. Importantly, in the painting of my own garden the native bush provides the context; at Uplands House, Brown’s contrived landscape adds meaning. Uplands House Garden Panorama unlike Study for View of the Artist’s Garden is a relatively simple design. Study for View of the Artist’s Garden was conceived as a depiction of three quite distinct views combining to make one larger view. It was also the study for the almost six-metre version I was to paint over the course of a year in 2011. It visualises approximately a 250 degree view, stretched out and flattened. On the left, a Picturesque view across water is framed by pines; the central view features an orange, distinctly odd-shaped angophora; an azalea hedge extends across and points to the third view, which features the large over-arcing pepper tree and two citrus trees. The work was conceived as a walk through encapsulating multiple views that combine to express warmth and light, a multitude of texture, and a variety of garden experiences. The pines sitting on either side of the path framing the gum tree and a view across water is my own pictorial expression of the Picturesque. Like Glover’s house and garden painting, the flowers all bloom out of season, with mandarins ready to pick as Autumn colour begins to show. Compositionally I have used the panoramic format in combination with the flatness of the sky blue, the uniform consistency of the extended foreground shadow, and the lack of tonal variation in the bush background in an effort to limit the illusion of depth and present the garden (front on) like a stage. Each view within the whole offers something different and was intended to mirror the variety offered by a multidimensional garden experience.   79   Uplands House Garden Panorama Having painted seven pictures of the Uplands House garden as vignettes drawing out specific parts of the garden I thought it important to explore a more complete view and capture my own contemporary version of the pastoral ‘ideal’: a view looking from the garden out into the field expressing the duality of agriculture and garden culture. This was to express these cultures’ long-term co-existence and explore relations between nature, nurture, cultivation, and the politics of land. I was also very keen to capture the ubiquitous ‘clumps of trees’ carefully situated in a field that was once part of a ‘Capability’ Brown garden. In Uplands House Garden Panorama (2011) (fig. 69) the view is deliberately and awkwardly split across the centre of the picture to intensify the horizontality of the scene. On close inspection, you can clearly make out key elements from some of my other paintings produced at Uplands House. The two flowering urns seen in the mid- distance are motifs that feature in The Flower Urn, Uplands House (2011) (fig. 75) and Two Urns, Uplands House (2011) (fig. 76). The red-hot pokers visible on the far-right extremity of the picture frame and the clumps of oaks that formed the view from the rose garden appear in paintings discussed later. In Uplands House Garden Panorama, I have chosen to pay special attention to the repeating rhythms inherent in the garden. I have accentuated the rhythmic curves of the lavender and potted pansies in the foreground which were designed to set up a formal structure and create a dialogue that echoed each layer as you step back through the painting. The colour and plant forms in the foreground were positioned to hem in the lawn and field and to squeeze the viewer’s gaze horizontally. The negative spaces created against the lawn, the lavender along the fence line, the clumps of trees in the paddock and beyond, as well as the shapes of the clouds Fig. 70. Study for View of the Artist’s Garden, Hillston (2011).   80   against the sky, work in concert with the horizontality of the format to amplify the desired sense of rhythm. The two-tone green stripes of the mown lawn extend across the painting again, adding to the horizontality and graphically expressing the highly manicured nature of the garden. I positioned the clumps of trees and urns evenly across the picture and exaggerated the lawn area to allow for more open areas of sky and to add soft atmospherics to the scene. The central, main tree in the mid-ground was positioned to anchor the composition and has also been stretched and purposely shaped to imply that it is reaching out in an attempt to connect each side of the garden. I have also tilted the angle of the trunk to the right, along with its diamond shaped foliage, as a way of giving it its own unique identity. Just behind to the left I have counterbalanced this with one oak leaning to the left. At either end of the painting I manipulate the gardens so that they bookend the composition and close off the view. This work was painted over the course of a day, taking approximately eight hours, and was intended to be my memory and last experience of the garden. While I painted, the two regular gardeners worked away clipping hedges, sweeping paths, and mowing the lawns. At various times during the day they would check my progress, occasionally offering advice. Months later, back in the studio, I applied a layer of oil paint (over the acrylic) to strengthen areas of contrast and greatly intensify the purple of the lavender in the foreground. The break in the lavender in the foreground in the bottom right hand corner of the work provides the visual entry point from the terrace to the lawn. I have sought to draw attention to this opening through the positioning, pronounced rendering, and incongruity of the spherically shaped bushes. The obviously floral setting, the colour, and the overall attention to detail were in some measure my response to what I considered at the time to be one of the most powerful works in the Spencer exhibition, Bellrope Meadow (1937) (fig. 71). In Bellrope Meadow we observe a highly active composition in which Spencer employs an untypical higher-key palette. Unusually he has also produced numerous areas of highly complex blending to create a sense of luminosity. The physicality of   81   the painted ground and the almost effortlessness of each mark brings this subject to life. He adds complexity to his subject through the complicated compositional device of multiple focal points. The bushes, flowers, and clouds work in unison to create a sense of movement to express a ‘real’ garden experience. Spencer often denigrated his landscape work, considering them inferior to his compositionally more complex, highly figurative religious paintings. Even though his landscapes are generally somewhat less complicated than his other works they are still highly inventive and meticulously conceived. An example of this complexity appears in Spencer’s Rock Roses, Old Lodge, Taplow (1957) (fig. 72), which inspired my painting Poppy’s Rose Garden, Uplands House (2011) (fig. 73). Prior to reviewing Spencer’s exhibition many of my garden compositions consisted of centralised objects or motifs that I intended to suggest a figure in the landscape and relied on blending, tone shifts, and colour to express depth. The dramatic use of perspective and the interplay of angles and the illusion created through Spencer’s use Fig. 71. Stanley Spencer, Bellrope Meadow (1937). Fig. 72. Left: Stanley Spencer, Rock Roses, Old Lodge, Taplow (1957). Fig. 73. Right: Poppy’s Rose Garden, Uplands House (2011).   82   of shadows, strong highlights, and obsessive detail became more apparent when seeing his work en masse. This prompted me to trial this approach. A good example of this is Poppy’s Rose Garden, Uplands House (2011) where I set out to articulate multiple layers of chaotic foliage in the foreground that cuts across the image yet frames the distant view. The level of detail and layered complexity meant that this work took considerably longer than other studies. There was added experimentation with the introduction of dark layers of merging under-painting, overlaid with tonally stronger and more direct, solid brush marks. This breakthrough led to subsequent further experimentation and use of these techniques en plein air and studio-based works produced from then on. Spencer’s ability to articulate form through complex tonal bends and to use highlights to create separation from the background or from other complex objects was particularly informative. Prior to going to the UK and to Uplands House I painted The Urn, Rowan's Garden (2011) (fig. 74), a somewhat comical painting of an urn that could be read as a human bust with big hair and wrap-around sunglasses. And, even though I did marginally enhance this scene, it was the framing and action of turning it into a picture that realised the human content. Whilst at Uplands House I took the opportunity to revisit this theme but focused more on drawing out the surrounds and a less contrived, implied sense of human form. Fig. 74. Left: The Urn, Rowan's Garden (2011). Fig. 75. Centre: The Flower Urn, Uplands House (2011). Fig. 76. Right: Two Flower Urns, Uplands House (2011).   83   My painting, Red Hot Pokers / Uplands House (2011) (fig. 78) best demonstrates the significant influence Spencer’s work has had on my different methodological approaches. Red Hot Pokers was made in direct response to my review of Spencer’s paintings Red Magnolias (1938) (fig. 79) and Wisteria, Cookham (1942) (fig. 77). Red Magnolias, one of the smallest and, in some ways, the simplest paintings in the exhibition, had a profound impact. Viewed closely, it is quite roughly painted. There is a physicality and directness in the application of paint and in compositional terms it differs from many of Spencer’s complex, more organised garden pictures. What the artist has offered is an up-close, awkwardly framed but potent view of the Magnolias; their twisted stems and disheveled buds are strongly articulated against a particularly unremarkable landscape. Unconventionally, we look down on the magnolias from a slightly elevated position but it is Spencer’s positioning of the flowers in the foreground, almost filling the picture plane, and the veil they cast over the rest of the view that is conceptually most compelling. After my field trip, this type of composition—its system—was adopted to produce Pines, King Edward Park, Newcastle (2011) (fig. 80) and subsequent paintings. Fig. 80. Pines, King Edward Park, Newcastle, (2011). Fig. 77. Left: Stanley Spencer, Wisteria, Cookham (1942). Fig. 78. Middle: Red Hot Pokers / Uplands House (2011). Fig. 79. Right: Stanley Spencer, Red Magnolias (1938).   84   Conclusion It is important for me to acknowledge the value the field trip to the UK as it provided not only the opportunity of seeing these English gardens but the possibility to explore their form and physical presence through painting and through an extended period of observation. It also afford the chance to examine Spencer’s work in the flesh, to review the material quality of his marks, the finish of the paint surface and to review some of the garden landscapes that formed the content of his painting. On reflection it was also particularly important to bring that knowledge and experience back to Australia, and to apply this to the paintings I made immediately after my return at The Everglades. The experience gave me a greater appreciation of the transference of English garden landscapes and traditions but also new ways to consider what I had garnered from Spencer’s works; his attention to detail and how he used his highly individual compositional and framing techniques to evoke a sense of place. ! ! ! ! The next chapter explores the works produced at the National Trust garden The Everglades in Leura and a suite of paintings made at Rowan’s Garden, a private formal Knot garden in Newcastle. The Everglades constituted a sustained production of larger more finished en plein air works and a shift in methodology and material practice. Both gardens were detailed and compositionally complex and both have held on to an aesthetic coherence envisaged by their original makers.   85   Chapter Five: Two Key Gardens i. The Everglades, Leura, Blue Mountains Introduction In this chapter, I describe the series of works produced during my time painting at The Everglades, the National Trust’s historic garden in the Blue Mountains, NSW. I outline my working method and the key works that have informed my broader inquiry. I describe changes I made to my process when painting en plein air and the resulting outcomes. I also discuss the history of the garden, its designer, Paul Sorenson, and his legacy. The abundance and cool climate of Leura were in stark contrast to the very harsh environs of the homestead garden at Boolooroo Station, Moree. The Everglades was much more like the gardens I had painted in England. In Leura logistics afforded me the opportunity to paint for extended periods which led to significant changes to the way I worked. Later in this chapter I discuss the series of paintings I produced in Newcastle at a garden I have named Rowan’s Garden. While Rowan’s and The Everglades each have particular distinctive features, both are highly shaped gardens and ardent examples of place-making. The outward appearance of both these gardens   86   reflects the ambition of their makers; both are expressive of their longevity and demonstrate the care needed to maintain their originator’s vision. The garden’s beginnings Before examining specific paintings from the body of work produced at The Everglades, it is important to give some context to the garden’s creation and to acknowledge the influence of its original owner, the industrialist Henri Van de Velde, and the important shared contribution of the renowned horticulturist and designer Paul Sorensen (fig. 82). The Everglades sits on a ridge looking across the Jamison Valley to Mount Cloudmaker, Kanangra Falls, and Mount Solitary. On the western side, the land drops away dramatically to Gordon Falls below. After acquiring the thirteen-acre site, in 1936 Van de Velde commissioned the already successful Danish horticulturalist and landscape designer Paul Sorensen to create what was until then his most ambitious project. Sorensen, born in Copenhagen in 1890, trained at the Danish Hørsholm Planteskole. While studying, his experience included the maintenance of Queen Alexandra of Denmark’s summer-house, Villa Hvidovre. It is not clear why Sorenson moved to Australia in 1915, but there was war in Europe, Australia was in drought, and there was little work when he arrived. Sorensen and Van de Velde formed a great working partnership. The industrialist’s tremendous energy, resources, and deep love of modernism combined with Sorensen’s Fig. 82. Horticulturist and Landscape Garden designer Paul Sorensen.   87   sensitivity, training, and unique skills. Together they produced what is regarded as one of Australia’s great gardens. The site in Leura posed many challenges, including poor soil and a steep, rocky slope that was full of ironstone fragments. Sorensen worked with the landscape, creating several formal terraces that cascade down the site towards the house, each featuring expansive dry-stone walls using the enormous amount of ironstone reclaimed from the site. As in the house, Sorensen incorporated his modernist aesthetic into the garden design, which also included many Art Deco features that pay tribute to some of the gardens he had visited in Europe in the 1920s. First encounters I spent approximately thirty days making work at The Everglades throughout 2011 and 2012. As I painted, summer gradually faded into autumn and I was able to observe the gardeners’ constant pruning and replanting, and the regular stream of visitors. As I watched them moving around the garden, I was struck by how little time most people spent in the garden, and I reflected on how limited their experience would have been of this complex, multidimensional place. Robert Pogue Harrison, in Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition, explores the complex philosophical connection we have with gardens and outlines his views on “the lost art of seeing”.1 His writing puts voice and valuable context to my own belief that much can be gained by sustained looking. Artists such as Claude Monet (1840–1926) searched for meaning by returning time and time again to reinterpret the same scene. The creation of his own garden at Giverny was to become almost the sole focus of his practice for the last thirty years of his life. His garden creation, the incessant adjustment, the daily care and worry in regard to its progress, and the years and years spent observing this constant state of change, illustrates Monet’s complex philosophical, physical and emotional connection to his garden.                                                                                                                 1 Robert Pogue Harrison, Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition (Chicago, London: The University of Chicago Press, 2008), 114.   88   Fig. 83. Left: Study for Inside Hedges, Looking Out (2012). Fig. 84. Right: Study for Monument, The Everglades (2012). Harrison’s view is that to fully comprehend a garden’s appearance as a place of visible richness we need intense powers of observation. This applies equally to our appreciation of paintings. The experiential nature of en plein air painting— the impulse to paint, the prolonged act of looking, and the response to that looking—ultimately contributes not just to the realisation of an artefact but to the reflective process that bolsters continuing artistic practice. This crucially involves processes of observation and assessment similar to those required to be an effective garden practitioner. My creative impulse is driven by what I see and yet the experience of art practice necessarily involves both successes and failures. The impulse to persist with both painting and gardening is given voice by Henry Mitchell: “Now the gardener is the one who has seen everything ruined so many times that (even as his pain increases with each loss) he comprehends; truly knows—that where there was a garden once, it can be again, or where there never was, there yet can be a garden”.2 When initially seeking specific scenes to paint, I was drawn to the deep shadows in the many recesses Sorensen had created. As you travel up the mountains to Leura, 985 metres above sea level, the light softens and the shadows deepen. This more diffused light interacting with the garden’s stately forms played a significant role in the paintings produced at the Everglades.                                                                                                                 2 Henry Mitchell, The Essential Earthman: Henry Mitchell on Gardening, (Indiana University Press, Bloomington & Indianapolis, 1981), 3.   89   Fig. 85. Left: Casper David Friedrich Garden Terrace (1811–1812). My decision to paint The Everglades was bound up in the garden’s overall sense of restraint and its contrast of open areas, detailed planting and angular shaped pines. Many of its formal design qualities, when combined with the way certain parts of the garden captured the mountains’ soft changeable light, were reminiscent of the austere nature of Caspar David Friedrich’s paintings. Friedrich (1774-1840) often depicted or placed a human presence at the centre of his landscapes. Garden Terrace (1811–1812) (fig. 85) is the artist’s only unambiguous representation of a garden. Like the terrace at the Everglades, Friedrich’s enclosed garden terrace possesses features that act as pictorial devices to frame the view. The dark foreground of the terrace garden dwells in shadow expressing order but a pervading sense of disquiet. The soft, contrasting pale yellow of the sky in Garden Terrace, like the sky in Monument, The Everglades (2013) (fig. 81) highlights the wilderness beyond the man-made. Whilst each painting depicts an enclosure, the viewer is beckoned to look beyond the garden. Particularly striking was the way Sorenson created a sense of enclosure, of gardens within a garden, by taking advantage of the site’s cascading incline and dramatic elevation. While Friedrich’s paintings—his stark forms and dark Romantic palette—resonate with the landscaping of the Everglades, Sorensen’s design also reflects the influence of European modernism. Sorenson worked in Germany, Denmark, Switzerland, and France before coming to Australia, which may account for the fact that although some parts of The Everglades are shaped, it is much more restrained than the formal gardens I had visited in England.   90   The ordered nature of The Everglades—its layout, the way its spaces flow from one level to the next—gives it a compositional coherence. For a painter of gardens it offers a multitude of choices. The dramatic shaped pines on the central level can serve compositionally as a formal anchor to which the rest of the garden is tied. The first two paintings in this series of ten works, completed in the garden over four to five days, were Study for Inside Hedges, Looking out (2011) (fig. 83) and Study for Monument, The Everglades (2011) (fig. 84). My premise for painting these first two works was to harness the unique formal qualities of this part of the garden and to attempt to capture the inherent figurative quality of the shaped pine. Coleen Morris writes that “Sorenson excelled at pruning trees and with theatrical gestures, extolled the virtues of bringing out the ‘spirit’ of a tree”.3 This mirrors my own intentions to bring out a sense of theatricality. This section of the garden was different in many ways to any garden I had seen or painted before. During this first week I worked on both paintings and took regular breaks to explore the garden. Because I had decided to work in oils I found it helpful to switch from one painting to the next, working on different sections and allowing for drying time in between. At the end of each day’s painting I was able to review the work and leave them to dry. This method of staggering and planning each stage of a painting was more akin to the way I would approach studio painting than to my usual en plein air practice. Here, I was able to work directly from nature but spend time building up the surface and adjusting the atmospherics and tonal qualities of each work. I had experimented with this approach on a relatively large work in my own garden, but until this point had largely regarded my fieldwork as a process of making studies and collecting information for my studio practice. While on my field trip in the UK, I had worked solely in acrylic; although this had advantages in terms of speed and transportability, it had drawbacks in terms of the eventual outcomes and paint surface quality.                                                                                                                 3 Coleen Morris, http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/sorensen-paul-edwin-bielenberg- 15730 (2012).   91   Strong shadows play a significant role in the composition and mood of these hedge studies, as do the distant glimpses of the blue escarpment through the trees. While both these paintings are of hedged pines, and while they were conceived originally as a pair, they were intended to express quite opposite ideas. The intention was to emphasise both the positive and negative spaces created by the garden’s design. The first, Study for Inside Hedges, Looking Out, was a focused view of the light falling between the pines and depicts a view painted from inside the shadows. By directing the viewer’s gaze towards the space and light in the centre of the painting, my intention was to create a heightened sense of depth in the pictorial plane and a feeling of enclosure and, through this, a sense of other-worldliness. A romanticised, subjective version of the natural world. The second painting, Study for Monument, The Everglades, was concerned with isolating and centralising one aspect of the garden (the shaped pine) and imbuing it with an implied (imaginary) sense of human figuration. The symmetrical positioning of the shaped pine, reflects Friedrich’s approach of depicting a human figure or human presence at a composition’s centre. The strong verticals on either side help to shield the view but at the same time draw attention to it. I have sought to use the low brick wall and trellised grapevine to enclose the space and therefore give the shaped pine a theatrical presence. * By way of note: I made a larger version of this work, entitled Monument, The Everglades (fig. 81) and two others larger works based on Study for Inside Hedges, Looking Out (fig. 83). There are always certain aspects of a place that capture my attention. It may be the potential to draw out a sense of human figuration in the configuration of trees, finding repeating forms that create rhythm, or misshapen foliage that can be exaggerated to activate an unusual compositional structure. An important part of my process when painting en plein air is not to preconceive a final outcome but to respond to what is in front of me. What is important is that I bring out what I see as the personality of the place, building a body of work based on each painting experience and building on a measured reflection of each work.   92   Even though the central terrace and the shaped pines constitute a small part of The Everglades, they became the central focus of the work I produced there, in part because of the connections I felt to the works of Friedrich. This part of the garden was more open but ordered than other parts of the garden. Whilst The Everglades could be considered a large garden, each section has been designed as an independent space that cascades into the next. Each section frames glimpses of the Jamison Valley from different angles and elevation, but rather than open out the garden’s design and play directly to the view, Sorensen carefully enclosed the spaces so that you almost need to go looking for the view. This restraint, the idea that you can be in a space that offers only fragments of what must be described as an exceptional view, has been explored in several of my paintings. One example is Five Pines, The Everglades (2012) (fig. 87). Sorensen, like Friedrich, directs us to what he wants us to see and thereby influences and changes our experience. So epic is the view from the garden that it belies any effort on my part to attempt to wholly depict it in paint. The grand vistas offered in Eugene von Guérard’s sublime portrayal of Weatherboard Creek Falls, Jamieson’s Valley, New South Wales (1862) (fig. 86),4 which represents a 19th Century sublime Romantic aesthetic, pictures his deep appreciation of the beauties of nature through the exotic, the remote, and the mysterious. Whilst von Guérard clearly depicts a recognisable version of                                                                                                                 4 Jamieson’s Valley referred to in the title of Eugene von Guérard’s painting is now commonly known as Jamison Valley. Fig. 86. Left: Eugene von Guérard, Weatherboard Creek Falls, Jamieson’s Valley, New South Wales (1862). Fig. 87. Right: Five Pines, The Everglades (2012).   93   Jamison Valley he imbues his painting with transient and dramatic light effects to evoke a sense of awe and grandeur. In the paintings of The Everglades I have attempted to capture my version of this place as another world: a believable world that is in the here and now, but one that also is imbued with an allegoric dimension and that can be reinterpreted to reveal hidden meaning. A world that has removed itself from wilderness and that has become a protected and maintained idealised place; a world that people now pay to visit and experience a romantic sense of time past. During this period of research, as both practicing painter and practicing gardener, I have become much more conscious of the time and the physical resources it takes to create and maintain a garden such as The Everglades. The sheer volume of stone used to create the terracing, the hand digging and shaping of the land, the mulching, the preparation and the planting of each individual specimen is to be admired. As I was painting the Study for Monument, The Everglades several volunteers, along with the head gardener, were clipping the hedges I was painting. Observing their activity, the care and attention taken, heightened the attention I paid to the details and shadows within plants and my awareness that my painting is not just about articulating the formal characteristics of my subject, but about remembering that each plant is a living thing. What I am attempting to do is Fig. 88. Detail view of iron stone wall at The Everglades (2012).   94   capture its being or, like Sorenson, “bring out the ‘spirit’ of a tree”.5 This notion of being and of bringing out the spirit was also evident in many landscapes by Stanley Spencer and the attention he paid to the depth of shadows within plants. Whilst Spencer was not a gardener, he possessed an ability to articulate detailed foliage through tonal shifts, creating the illusion of depth by heightening the contrast of the highlights. These techniques and attention to atmospheric detail have significantly influenced my approach. Back from the Cotswolds The series of works produced at The Everglades resulted in part from my decision to pause from painting my own garden so I could explore a much more formal garden setting. The field trip to the UK gave me the opportunity to paint and study several much larger, more formal gardens and this created several new lines of inquiry. How as a painter could I best exploit such highly composed gardens? I was keen to gain experience from painting many different types of gardens. On my return from the UK and after some reflection, I came to the belief that several of the en plein air studies I produced while in the Cotswolds lacked the energy and surface tension and physical material quality I had been striving for. There was a flatness to the paint surface in many of the works and the colour was over played and less naturalistic than intended. Compositionally, some of the works felt somewhat contrived and therefore lacking authenticity or a sense of believability. When travelling, working in acrylics on unstretched canvas had been the practical approach, but I now felt those works lacked the depth and subtlety of tone that I could achieve in oil. When trying to achieve a sense of mystery and tonal depth in areas of dark shadow or subtleties in the colours to express the drift in and out of shadow, working with the less familiar and pliable medium of acrylic had presented a challenge.                                                                                                                 5 Coleen Morris, http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/sorensen-paul-edwin-bielenberg- 15730 (2012).   95   However, while as a group, the field trip paintings were not as successful as I had hoped, they signalled the need to take more time in the production of my en plein air paintings. This decision freed me up to work on a larger format and to build each painting in layers rather than try to complete each work in a single sitting. Being able to rework specific areas and to approach each new session with the hindsight of the previous day allowed the paintings to develop more systematically by giving me the ability to devote time to each work as needed. Another interesting discovery was that rather than being a negative, the opportunity to respond to the same view the next day, even though conditions may have been markedly different, allowed me either to reinterpret what I had done or continue as I had started. This also required at times that I worked from my memory of the previous day. This extra time devoted to looking and re- looking was a valuable step forward. At the time I had no direct personal links with The Everglades other than that it was in the Blue Mountains, but the garden’s design was of more interest to me as a result of my experiences in the Cotswolds. Whilst stylistically The Everglades was vastly different to my own garden, crucially, both are manifestations of a formal European garden in an Australian context. I also hoped that by painting a very different type of garden than my own, it would help stimulate other ways of seeing my garden. This prompted me to consider that when painting a particular place from fixed points, there is a tendency to see that place more as a view than as the experience we get from walking through a place and taking in numerous multifocal views. Looking intensely from a fixed point while painting from life, Fig. 89. The series of angled hedged pines that feature the central terrace and that were the focus of my time at The Everglades (2012).   96   often for several hours, is a totally different experience to passing through a garden space or simply sitting and taking in a view. What is also apparent from these works is that they were developed sequentially yet with different interpretations of the same place. This method was to guide the approach when painting my own garden. I wanted to explore the complexity of specific aspects of the garden’s design and to offer a view that offered a refuge from the world. Unlike my paintings Cherry Doughnut, Kingswood (2011) (fig. 113) or Study for View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station, (Rain Coming) (2011) (fig. 105), where those gardens’ separation from the world—their very difference—was reliant on seeing the dichotomy between the garden and its surroundings, my aim with The Everglades was to create a very different narrative through capturing the distinct forms of the garden while only allowing tiny glimpses of the world beyond to be seen. One painting that, in part, illustrates this point is Looking into Light (2012) (fig. 90), which shows a vine encircling the view and limiting the ability of the viewer to take full account of the distant escarpment across Jamison Valley. My aim was to create an image of restraint by denying the viewer a certain degree of access. Fig. 90. Looking into Light, The Everglades (2012).   97   Looking into light It was almost impossible to paint at The Everglades without including a pond, an urn, a rock wall or a built structure of some kind. In the past, wherever possible I have tried to avoid man-made inclusions, choosing views where the trees, bushes, flowers, and foliage express the structure of the garden. I generally exclude garden infrastructure because I feel these things diminish the garden’s direct relationship to nature, and distract from my central concern to focus on painting gardens as transformed (composed) nature. The idea that you assemble a collection of plants from many different parts of the world and bring them together in a very particular way, place them in the ground and nurture them, so as to remake a place, is in part what my research is about. Even though gardens are built and require infrastructure, it is the shaping of the plants, their combinations, their layout, and the way they sit together that draws me to them. Before painting gardens in the Cotswolds and The Everglades, I had mostly painted gardens that had disguised the system of construction within the garden. What became clear during my time at The Everglades was that Sorensen had left his mark: the infrastructure of rock walls, paths, and terraces is integral to the garden’s form. The paths lead you through so that the different plants close you in or offer you a view, and all combine to deliver an experience. The golden pond One work that illustrates my efforts to deal with the ‘built quality’ of this garden is Golden Pond, The Everglades (2012–2013) (fig. 91). This painting was part of a small group of works started in early spring of 2012 and the last painting I made at The Everglades. Because it was spring I thought it would be a good opportunity to revisit the garden and observe the changing of the season and to extend the variety of this body of work. When looking at this work it is clear that it was glorious weather, but what is not apparent from the image is that, being late August, it was still quite cold in the Blue Mountains.   98   While painting at The Everglades, I was often surprised by the speed of change in the weather conditions. The clouds appeared to move more rapidly than in other places I have painted; more akin to my experience painting at Cradle Mountain in Tasmania or in England. Even though Golden Pond, The Everglades expresses a sunny disposition, while painting it was cold and extremely gusty, with the clouds and light constantly shifting. I mention the weather because this painting was produced as part of an experiment I decided to undertake, which was to film my en plein air painting process. My thinking was that it could be worthwhile to actually see my process and method and review how I arrive at a finished painting. Needless to say, when painting en plein air scale and the level of detail of a particular work have a big impact on the time each work takes. The scale of this work made it difficult to complete in under three hours, but because I was filming the process I wanted a work that was large enough to easily observe taking shape. The film consisted of some twenty-five thousand images shot over three hours and condensed (in stop motion) to create footage that runs for approximately two minutes and thirty seconds. • To view an augmented reality version of this film, download the Aurasma App and click ‘follow’ on a mobile device (smart-phone or tablet) using the link: http://auras.ma/s/abg80 (You can then hold your mobile device over Fig. 91 to view me painting the painting inside the painting).   Fig. 91. Golden Pond, The Everglades (2012–2013).   99   Two particularly useful aspects of this experiment were that I was able to observe the changing weather conditions—the sky, the shadows—and to take account of the order in which the painting was made. When painting in oils, the order of construction is crucial, not just in terms of ease of production or speed of application but for maintaining the clarity of brush marks as well as the purity of colour and the blending of tone. When working from life I tend to limit the use of media and work as much as possible with paint straight from the tube. This helps me to maintain control of the paint and how it reacts to the surface but also allows me to build a physical presence and create surface energy with the paint and directness of individual brush marks. The brush marks and paint quality in shadows or in areas one might describe as ‘voids’ are just as important as areas of more intense detail. What might be described as ‘more empty passages’ in a painting are critical, as they allow the eye to travel to areas of more meaning. Although I do not consider this particular work amongst the most successful paintings of the actual garden, I found the filming of my working process helped me consider adjustments in the practicalities of painting from life. For example, I recall the struggle I had in dealing with the large expanse of lawn in the mid- ground. The sharp angles of the pond and hedges and the detail and definition required to articulate the suspended branches of the cherry tree as they cut across the dense but complex foliage in the top section of the picture took considerable time to rework after filming. Thus, the date of the painting is shown as 2011–2012. Before I started painting at The Everglades, I had a chance meeting and brief discussion with the head gardener, who talked passionately about the history of the garden and his role in maintaining Sorensen’s vision. He outlined the ongoing tasks the garden’s staff faced in providing the visiting public with an authentic experience of a time past. This conversation stayed with me as I painted and led me to consider the notion that my paintings, like the energies of the head gardener, are just part of the garden’s collective history and one person’s version of the place. We talked about the seasonal challenges faced with such a large garden, his personal feelings relating to a sense of custodianship, and the privilege he felt in being connected to this “great living presence that will   100   exist long after (he is) gone”.7 He was very interested to see what I would do with “how his garden looked”8 and which facets of the garden I would focus on. Over the course of my research, and in conversations with several committed gardeners, this sense of custodianship arose often as a common consideration. When I consider what Monet achieved with Giverney or what Sunday Reed oversaw at Heide, this becomes a very legitimate concern. Unlike most paintings, gardens are never finished. The meeting with the head gardener also crystallised many thoughts I had about my own garden. He talked about the garden’s extended history and his responsibility to the ongoing legacy and importance of the site, but also the duty he had to Sorensen’s original vision. He was also very mindful of his role in the experience gained by the numerous people who pass through the garden. On a personal level, he said his own memories of his working life were contained within the soil, rocks, and plants and that like an artist, he sought to understand more through history and tradition. He enjoyed the changeability and vagaries of climate and the need to work with both mind and body to achieve his overall aims. In the same way as the Epicurean philosophers in 3000 BC, he was educated in “the ways of nature”9 and as a gardener was willing to work with the “interplay of earth, water, air and sunlight”10 and the harmonies of the garden’s endless “cycle of growth and decay”.11 My own garden, established in the late 1880s and originally named Forrest Home, was originally laid out barely fifty years after Glover’s arrival in Tasmania and only twenty years after von Guerard painted Weatherboard Creek Falls, Jamieson’s Valley, New South Wales. Von Guerard visited the Blue Mountains in December 1859, making numerous pencil sketches from which he would later make paintings. After his arrival back in Melbourne he invited his friend, the art critic James Smith, to inspect the landscape studies. Smith was impressed with what he saw:                                                                                                                 7 Head Gardener, The Everglades, Personal communication (March 2012). 8 Ibid. 9 Harrison, Gardens, 73. 10 Ibid. 11 Ibid.   101   “Among the sketches from the portfolio are several he made in the Blue Mountains, and for sublimity, majesty, and eeriness, I should imagine this scenery can scarcely be surpassed in any part of the world”.11 Today, Sorensen’s garden enshrines this changed place, and I have made paintings of his garden, cut into the side of a mountain, perched high above the forest floor, the same valley von Guerard first drew and painted more than 160 years ago.                                                                                                                 11 Gavin Wilson, Picturing the Great Divide (Blue Mountains Cultural Centre, 2012), 19     102   ii. Rowan’s Garden Newcastle Introduction Rowan’s Garden, as I have called it, is a private suburban garden in Newcastle. Owned by the Rowan family, who also own three large landscaping and nursery businesses, the garden is a fastidiously maintained example of the way conflicting styles can be blended to create a striking and harmonious whole. I came to paint the garden while in Newcastle as part of an Artist in Residency at the city’s Lockup, formerly the old jail. The director of the Lockup organized with the owners for me to paint Rowan’s Garden over the course of a week. I did not meet the family but was shown around the garden by their full-time gardener who explained the garden’s overall design, his role, and the constant planting, replanting, and general maintenance required to keep this garden looking its best. He made it clear that the Rowans were primarily responsible for the garden’s overall look and the regular changes made to it. The garden sits on a relatively modest suburban double block of approximately twelve hundred square metres which also contains a two-storey house. Every section of the garden is carefully tended, clipped, and manicured, and at first gives the impression of a much larger estate garden that has been compressed into a small space. Several overlapping styles are visible in the garden’s five Fig. 92. Left: Pine and Hedges, Rowan’s Garden (2011). Fig. 93. Right: Inside Looking Through at the Rowan's (2011).   103   distinct ‘rooms’. Some areas pay homage to the knot style of garden; some sections are clearly influenced by the French parterre (revival) tradition; and in others, Japanese influences are visible. Although garden purists may regard these styles as conflicting, the layout and plant choices had remarkable continuity and flowed well from one section to the next. Formal considerations The garden presented significant potential for painting because of its completeness and because it appeared much grander in scale than it was in reality. The perceptual change created by the shift in scale was enhanced by the elaborate shaping and detailed plantings. This in part explained my strong emotional response to the design and the intensification of the visual experience that increased over time as different layers of detail came into focus. Over the course of the week I produced nine relatively small paintings of the garden; it was, up until that stage, the most complex garden I had painted. Given that the garden consisted of five separate rooms that transitioned from one to the next, I made the decision to do at least one painting of each section in an effort to capture variety and an overview of the complexity of the planting and garden layout. I started with a painting of the entrance and moved through the garden day by day, painting each section as I went. This is not normally how I would work, but I felt this could be valuable experimentation that could be applied to the approach taken when painting my own garden. Fig. 94. The parterre garden at Cliveden House, Buckinghamshire, is one of the largest examples in Britain; I painted it later that year (Oct 2011). The garden on the front lawn at Cliveden is in the 19th Century Revival style, which differs slightly from the original 15th Century French Renaissance garden or the more elaborate 17th Century Baroque style.   104   Fig. 97. The Entrance, Rowan’s Garden (2011). Fig. 95. Above left: Stanley Spencer, Clipped Yews (1935). Fig. 96. Above right: Stanley Spencer, The Monkey Puzzle Tree, Northern Ireland (1952). During my time at Rowan’s Garden in the lead up to painting at The Everglades I began to consider more deeply factors such as the many different types of garden design, the nature of garden ‘culture’, other artists who have painted gardens, and where my work sat within this tradition. Until that point I felt the artist most closely aligned with the type of images I was making, both compositionally and in relation to their subject, was Stanley Spencer. One painting that I reviewed closely at the time was his Clipped Yews (1935) (fig. 95) which provided useful information in terms of the way Spencer articulated the repeating and receding forms, and how he paid particular attention to detail through the clarity of his rendering of the foreground foliage. As the forms of the shaped yews receded deeper in the pictorial plane, he moved away from depiction of detail to the use of calibrations of tone and modeling. He also employed dramatic perspective to draw us closer to the yew and to heighten our perception by fixing us to his viewpoint.   105   The other painting, Monkey Puzzle Tree, Northern Ireland (1952) (fig. 96), was informative in the way Spencer used tone and contrast to create separation when articulating foliage. The artist brings the tree to life by defining its interior and exterior, cleverly separating it from the garden background. This painting is a good example of techniques Spencer employs to break down complex, highly detailed objects through the use of tone, contrasting colour, and multi-directional brush marks. Achieving pictorial effects such as contrast, tonal shifts, and separation are some of the challenges when painting scenes such as those presented at Rowan’s Garden, which was made up predominantly of shades of yellow and green, laden with complex formal detail and plantings. Again my method was to paint en plein air using acrylic on small, primed wood panels and on loose pieces of primed, un-stretched canvas. At this time I was experimenting with a slightly freer, more sketchy painting approach with the aim of responding as directly as possible to what was in front of me and as a way of trialing Spencer’s method of breaking down tones and articulating complex forms. While the approach may have been ‘sketchy’, I was still concerned with articulating plant detail, structure, and tonal depth. A world set apart Before painting at Rowan’s Garden I had mainly been painting my own garden, which is backed by native bush and open to the views beyond, and at that time did not possess any firm stylistic design characteristics. One of the interesting characteristics of Rowan’s Garden was that while it was obvious from the outside that there was something special within, it was impossible to imagine what lay behind the outside wall of plants. This dichotomy created a real sense of expectation before entering the garden. Once inside, the outside world was essentially invisible except for a small view of the street from the front gate. In painting terms there was no view that could be captured beyond the confines of the garden except for the sky. Once in the garden, I was totally immersed in that (garden world) place.   106   A painting that I think best demonstrates the garden’s challenge to my perception of scale is The Lawn, Rowan's Garden (2011) (fig. 98). The scene pictured is a section of the garden that is approximately ten metres wide by twenty metres deep. While I was painting this picture, the (brown) garden beds at the base of the hedge on either side of the lawn were in the process of being replanted with a floral border, which occurred on average every six to eight weeks. My aim was to depict the very composed and ordered nature of the space, and to also portray the curves and the sense of movement they created, drawing a viewer through. Towards the back of this section of garden, the lawn subtly dips as it transitions to the entry to the next section, which can be viewed in Four Pines, Rowan's Garden (2011) (fig. 99). This section is in stark contrast to the other areas of the garden, allowing for less movement and promoting a more ‘still’, contemplative experience. The notion of contemplation is expressed in this painting where my aim was to create a work that dwelled in the shadows and that paid little attention to what lay beyond. It was about the sensory pleasure of being under the tree inside the garden, and about emphasizing the symmetry, order, and peacefulness of the space. In the top right-hand corner of the painting, the small patch of blue- green allows us to look back at the lawn garden we left behind. Although I never got the chance to meet the Rowans and discuss their garden with them (as I have with all the owners of the other private gardens I have painted for this project), I do feel that I got to know them in some way through painting their garden. Fig. 98. The Lawn, Rowan's Garden (2011). Fig. 99. Four Pines, Rowan's Garden (2011).   107   ! ! ! ! In the first half of next chapter I examine three key works that best exemplify the compositional and framing devices that emerged as consistent thread of my research. While these works depict very different gardens in very different places, they share common devices in the framing of the view and the directing of the gaze and importantly, the use of a centralised motif. In compositional terms, these three paintings form the bases of further explorations and the approach to the paintings I produced of my own garden in Springwood that is discussed in the second half of the chapter.   108   Chapter Six: Three Key Works and Springwood Paintings Introduction Composition, structure, and framing are words that express ideas common to both gardening and painting; they also express what I understand to be a core part of this research. In this chapter I discuss three key works produced that feature particular compositional and framing devices that I have adopted. I also discuss specific paintings by artists whose compositions either reflect or have inspired my thinking. Given that one of my aims has been to represent the ‘other-worldly’ quality that gardens can express it is important to understand that what lies outside the frame is in itself a significant part of the picture’s narrative. In describing my approach I have broken my thinking into three sections: the frame within the frame, the view from inside looking out, and the view from outside looking in. In Headdress, Looking Through Shadows (2012) (fig. 100) I reflect on the frame within the frame and the compositional motif that is intended to centralise the gaze in order to reinforce the offer of a shared experience. In discussing the Cherry Doughnut, Kingswood, Western Sydney (2011) (fig. 113) I reflect on the parkland garden design and the urban vernacular. In the third work, View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station (2011) (fig. 105), I discuss the beneficial effects of my field-work in the UK Fig. 100. Headdress, Looking Through Shadows (2011).   109   and, on return, seeing Australia’s landscape with fresh eyes. I also discuss the stark contrast of the imposition of the English garden aesthetic on the arid landscape of western Queensland and the experience of painting the view from inside the garden looking out. Finally, in section IV of this chapter I discuss what I have learnt and how I have applied the knowledge from my many site visits and production of studio paintings of other gardens, to works which explore my own garden in Springwood. The paintings described here in many ways represent the evolution of this process of research; the material changes that I have made, the exploration of compositional structures; the heightening of atmospherics and the centralising of plant forms. These works also embody the necessary creative to-and-fro that constitutes my painting and gardening practices. i. Key work one: Headdress, Looking Through Shadows For much of 2012 and 2013, I concentrated mainly on paintings of The Everglades in Leura and my own garden in the Blue Mountains. During the making of many of these works I explored the idea of ‘the frame within the frame’ in an attempt to concentrate the viewer’s experience of my subject. Another aim was to explore ways in which to evoke different feelings, one of those being what I would describe as a sense of stillness. Gardens naturally communicate sensory information which can heighten our state of consciousness by instilling feelings such as calmness or tranquility. These feelings are connected to our perception of time but also can contribute greatly to our sense of wellbeing. In order to create the emotive linkage between stillness and time I sought to concentrate the viewer’s gaze through my use of an archway or gateway as a compositional framework that would invite them to share this (other) garden world. My aim is for the viewer to experience an enhanced, illusionistic world that is seemingly real but other-worldly; a place where time is fixed to a moment but where feelings such as tranquility, stillness, or even disquiet can unfold. This vision is based in a sensory place that is both reflective and meditative, one which expresses   110   the immersive world many gardeners seek to create and which can be experienced through time spent in such gardens. Three works in particular have inspired my focus on compositional devices featuring central openings or gateways: Caspar David Friedrich’s The Cemetery (Churchyard Gates) (1825) (fig. 101), Stanley Spencer’s Greenhouse and Gardens (1937) (fig. 102), and his A Gate, Yorkshire (1928) (fig. 103). What particularly interested me about these three paintings is that Spencer and Friedrich have created works that allow us, as viewers, to participate in a shared experience through the depiction of an open doorway or gates that can be read symbolically, for instance, as a kind of religious allegory or view to the future. These paintings influenced my compositions and informed my adoption of ‘the frame within the frame’. The painting Headdress, Looking Through Shadows depicts a formal, symmetrical composition of the garden viewed through a central archway. The choice of the headdress archway and portrait format was designed to deliver a more concentrated view and to reinforce the sense of enclosed space. I wanted the painting to intensely convey the key attributes of the garden, but primarily, like Friedrich and Spencer, I wanted to compose the painting as an open invitation to a shared experience of the garden. By offering a limited view of the sky but very focused view of the garden, my aim was to increase the viewer’s desire to travel beyond the path, enter the garden, and ultimately share a sense of the garden’s Fig. 101. Left: Caspar David Friedrich, The Cemetery (Churchyard Gates) (1825). Centre: Fig. 102. Stanley Spencer, Greenhouse and Gardens (1937). Fig. 103. Right: Stanley Spencer, A Gate, Yorkshire (1928).   111   character. The archway positions the viewer to experience the garden’s sense of light, safely enclosed, and to revel in the cool of the shadows, while imagining the garden that exists beyond the confines of the picture frame. I consider Headdress, Looking Through Shadows (2013) one of the key paintings to come out of my body of work because it involves a personal narrative. While this garden archway is clearly consciously designed, there is also an element of improvisation about it as I reveal below. My neighbour Peter had often expressed an interest in my work and I offered to do a painting of his garden in exchange for some work he did for me. Peter’s garden backs the top corner of my garden but is blocked from view by a high, very dense hedge. Even though I had lived next door to him for several years I had no idea what sort of garden lay behind the thick growth; when the time came to see it I was very pleasantly surprised. The first of the three paintings I made of Peter’s garden was painted en plein air and is the most naturalistic of the three. The second version, pictured here, is a much larger work I produced in the studio. As I painted the original piece, Peter and his wife Maria talked about gardening, what gardens meant to them, their approach, the structure of their garden, and their roles in its maintenance. Many of their decisions were not aesthetic but driven by purely practical considerations such as the height of their ladder or by plant health such as ways to improve the production of their citrus trees. When I asked Maria why she had shaped the foliage on the top of the arch in the way she had, she explained that she simply couldn’t reach the top and as a consequence she only ever pruned the sides. This strange and wonderful squared up vine—the thing that I really loved about their garden—was just a practical quirk, an improvisation, rather than a conscious design. I was surprised to find a quirky beauty in the ad hoc way practical considerations and solutions had resulted in quite idiosyncratic and striking garden features. The motif of the archway as a symbol of entry and of welcome differs from an open gate or doorway. An arch, unlike a gate or door, cannot be closed but exists as a   112   decorative structure on which to grow other plants and as a marker to guide visitors in and through the space beyond. An arch is an open formal signifier through which we may look, offering potential and promise. When looking through the archway in my painting, we see a circular garden bed full of agapanthus. When I selected this angle of view through the archway I was struck by what I first thought was a strangely shaped tree; I was surprised at the idea of Peter and Maria shaping a tree in this manner, but what looks like a small tree growing out of the center of the bed is in fact a mature grapevine that has entwined itself around a Hills Hoist (clothes line). This vine has so completely consumed the hoist that it was not until I had finished the painting that I realized what it was. At the centre of this composition is a cultural quirk, a tree-like structure of vine leaves held up by an almost redundant Australian suburban icon, the Hills Hoist. My painting recorded an aspect of this garden’s history, a moment in time, part of its evolution and character, and an aspect of Peter and Maria’s relationship to this place. Headdress, Looking Through Shadows is largely tonal and, although many layers of colour have gone into making up this picture, I deliberately restricted my palette to predominantly shifting variations of greens and yellows. I have consciously heightened the tonal contrast and deepened the shadows to increase the illusion of depth through the archway. The motif of the arch serves several purposes; the most obvious being to signal the entrance to the garden and to frame what lies beyond. The archway is a living structure and therefore very much part of the garden and connected through nature to everything that is seen. As the title of the painting implies, I see the arch as an anthropomorphic form. The finished work is not a straight-out depiction but is an idealized view of Peter and Maria’s garden and it was very much my intention to imply a human presence or ornament for a head. I also more clearly defined the plants and the spaces between the garden-beds to accentuate the well-kept order and to present the garden more dramatically than in life. The curve of the arch is echoed throughout the painting and helps set up a rhythm that stresses the symmetry of the compositional uniformity. Structurally, the archway serves to emphasise what is seen through the centre but to also define in almost equal intensity the detail and significance of the forms on either side of the   113   arch. I see this painting as a portrait of this garden. It is a landscape in ‘portrait’ format, conveying a human presence and representing this garden’s appeal and force of personality. Light, shadow, and metaphor Gardening, like painting, is as much about looking as it is about doing. The more I garden and the more time spent painting gardens, the more I believe that it is important to not just seek cultural meaning within a garden’s structure and form but to find meaning and metaphor in what I describe as deep shadows. As I have spent more and more time in the garden, sitting and looking, I am now much more aware of how light interacts with nature to create a multiplicity of colours, tonal ranges, and shadows. This light and its shadows give expression to the garden’s cultural form but also help convey more emotive and sensory meaning. In this regard, the process and outcome of this particular painting was a significant breakthrough. With this new painting I could see greater potential for metaphoric associations within the recesses of gardens and in the, often, latent meaning that exists in their deep shadows. As is the case in this painting of Peter and Maria’s garden, the deep shadows of early summer are where one would escape the heat and find cool relief and where the harsh glare fades and what exists becomes more clear. But when viewed from a distance these deep shadows embrace not just the seen and unseen but that elusive aspect: atmosphere. Gardens and the natural world are marked by death and decay and from this, life. In a garden, deep shadows are where death, decay, and life are held, but importantly these elements also mark time. I would suggest that deep shadows not only hold and express time, but express atmosphere. As autumn and each falling leaf counts down time to winter and as winter gives way to spring, a garden expresses active-time. When we look at a painting of a garden we see time stilled, but the deep shadows of gardens may be the spaces of memory. In Headdress, Looking Through Shadows, I have sought to enhance that which is not quite seen. This may be partially explained by Robert Pogue Harrison’s idea that “where appearances recede into the depths of space and time even as they come   114   forward to stake their claim in the phenomenal realm, they make special demands on our powers of observation”.1 As gardeners we rely on our powers of observation in reading the wellbeing of our gardens. It is often in the shadows, on the underside of the leaf, or ‘where appearances recede’ where we read the signs of a plant’s health. In defining deep shadow, I refer to those places in the garden where light is low and complex colours and tones mingle as space and form recede. When painting this aspect of a garden I have focused on describing the recesses where they meet the ground and the shadows that fall inside the leaves of a tree rather than how (we may think) light hits and gives form to the outside of the object. Harrison writes of what he describes as the ‘lost art of seeing’ and “that a garden is a place where appearances draw attention to themselves, but that doesn’t mean they necessarily get noticed, no matter how much they may radiate or beckon the eye”.2 But once noticed our perception can ascribe importance and meaning. Gardening has taught me to be more attuned to the natural world, to look for signs of stress in plants, disease, pests, or soil health. Through gardening, I have learnt and continue to learn how to read the signs of nature and thus to really look. This process of looking and reading nature’s signs requires critical thinking and a certain adaptability in terms of your approach.                                                                                                                 1 Robert Pogue Harrison, Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 2008), 114. 2 Ibid, 144. Fig. 104. John Constable RA, Study of the Trunk of an Elm Tree (1821).   115   Painting a garden marks time and is expressed not just through colour or tone, but light and, therefore, shadow and was formative when painting Headdress, Looking Through Shadows. The familiar illusion of shadows serves to draw the viewer in and is the basis from which the garden takes form. Considering illusionistic painting and the endeavor to portray a perception of physical space, of light and the way in which it falls on different foliage, shrubs, trees, or the ground, it is light that enlivens or draws out the metaphoric potential of any garden. This painting’s contrast between profusion of light and deep shadows viewed through the archway offers an invitation to the garden but also seeks to invoke emotions, familiar memories and be emblematic of a deeper suggested, more symbolic meaning. Light naturally gives expression to form and through light the form expresses meaning. The play of light locates a scene in time and can convey notions of spiritual meaning or of life and death. To illustrate what I mean, John Constable’s Study of the Trunk of an Elm Tree (1821) (fig. 104) is a study of the lower portion of the trunk in a clearing, softly lit by an overcast sky. The scale of the trunk and the way it is framed as a centralised iconic motif has the potential to express nature’s majesty, a sense of growth, survival, or longevity, and in each of these aspects the common thread is time. The English Elm is a symbol of tradition and of European garden culture and this tradition and culture is itself marked by time.   116   Fig. 105. Far left: Study for View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station (2011). Fig. 106. Left: View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station, (Rain Coming) (2014). ii: View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station The Study for View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station (2011) (fig. 105) was completed approximately two weeks after I arrived back in Australia from my field trip to the UK. In England I had painted in many places, the highlights being the manicured floral and topiary gardens of Cliveden House in Buckinghamshire and the picturesque landscape garden of Compton Verney. The contrast between the English and Australian landscapes could not have been more stark. In the Cotswolds I worked around the constant drizzling rain while in Queensland I found a landscape that had not had any meaningful rain for more than two years and where the bush and grasses were parched. Much of the rest of the country had also come through an extended period of drought and this was still fresh in my mind as I had spent many hours hand-watering my Blue Mountains garden just to keep many of the plants alive, only to lose several silver birch, rhododendrons, and hydrangeas. When I arrived at Stuart’s Creek I was still trying to process the work I had produced in England. Before heading north-west to Roma, I had hung the twenty or so works from the UK field trip in the studio and was beginning to consider how these paintings would inform my ongoing research. It was extremely valuable to be able to compare what I had painted in the UK with paintings I had completed of my own garden prior to the trip. Soon after I returned I produced several drawings and variations of the paintings of the English gardens I visited in preparation for larger   117   studio-based works. The impact of viewing Stanley Spencer’s English Garden exhibition and my time painting and drawing the English garden landscape was still very fresh in my mind and I was eager to apply to the Australian landscape some of the compositional elements I had explored while in England. I was particularly keen to develop a larger version of the red-hot poker painting I had executed as an homage to Spencer’s Magnolia, which I had seen in the exhibition at Compton Verney. The invitation to stay at Stuart’s Creek was accepted prior to leaving for England, and I had no idea of what to expect. The station is owned and operated by the family who have lived and worked on the property for several generations, one of whom is a friend. She was keen for me to see and paint the garden, and I hoped it would complement and extend the works I had produced at Boolooloo Station (Moree) and Arkaba Station (Flinders Rangers). I am always reluctant to commit when people suggest ideas or specific places to paint, but painting en plein air is like fishing: you never know when the next one will bite. The station was settled in 1900 and the second and surviving homestead was built in the 1930s. The garden around the house is approximately one and a half acres, but outside the fence there are discernable remnants of a much larger, older garden. The original size of this cattle property was seventy-eight thousand acres, but it is now forty-eight thousand acres after sections were sold off about twenty years ago. The surrounding vegetation is harsh and topographically the country is slightly undulating. From a farming perspective, the country has been reasonably productive. In an Australian context it is unremarkable except for the numerous bottle trees (Brachychiton rupestris) dotted across the landscape. These huge, slow-growing succulent trees populate large parts of this area of Queensland. Like Boolooroo Station in Moree (a homestead garden I had painted a year earlier), Stuart’s Creek Station also possessed a very beautiful, well-tended garden, although in terms of design the two gardens were very different. One thing that set the Stuart’s Creek garden apart from its southern counterpart was the harshness of the surrounding landscape and its distance from any significant surface water. As we approached by road, the house and garden appeared in the distance like an oasis.   118   When we finally arrived at the house, my immediate reaction to the garden was one of surprise at the way an unlikely collection of plants had been made to thrive in a most inhospitable environment. The garden featured an array of roses, camellias, salvia, lilies, petunias, and all manner of flowering plants: a real English cottage garden, in fact. In amongst it all were large, perfectly positioned bottle trees. Inside the fence-line at the front of the garden was a row of hedged camellias that enclosed the space well and marked the boundary between human and herd or, should I say, between human culture and agriculture. A similar separation is evident in my own garden in the Blue Mountains, which is surrounded by a large, living fence of established photinias. This formal device helps to give the garden its structure. The hedge defines the overall space by providing a green wall and in the case of my garden hugs and flows with the slope of the terrain. Its principal role is in providing a screen and a privacy barrier to shut out the outside world. Like the back of the Stuart’s Creek garden, however, my garden is also open to the view beyond. The front garden presents as a display to the world but the back garden connects us with a different reality. The water that maintains the Station’s garden is pumped from deep underground. What lies beyond the garden fence—a distinct lack of what gardeners call colour, the harshness of the climate, the quality of the soil—would present significant challenges for any gardener wishing to create and maintain this type of European garden. The lack of water here and the anomaly of this transplanted English-style garden reinforce the sense of place but also mark the difference. The jarring mismatch between the nature of the surrounding landscape and the imposed, imported garden landscape draws our attention to the dispossession of the first Australians. For many people, gardens express hope and a connection with nature, but for Aboriginal people the early colonial gardens indicated not just our intention to stay but our intention to take their land. Sydney Eddison’s idea that “gardens are a form of autobiography”3 can also be extended to the idea that gardens reflect who we are and where we come from. Perhaps for most people gardening involves little analysis of the traditions and                                                                                                                 3 Sydney Eddison, Gardening for a Lifetime: How to Garden Wiser as You Grow Older (Timber Press, 2011), 14.   119   culture that lie behind it, but when viewing gardens in the context of this study, and in particular homestead gardens, it was important to consider the cultural issues of land use, sustainability, and politics. And although I feel a deep attachment to gardens, their history and practice, I am very mindful of the devastating role that settler gardens and farming have had on the lives of this nation’s first people. Although the pastoral landscape and garden landscape are very different, I find they are each in their own way interesting and beautiful. What I have tried to capture in my homestead garden paintings is the narrative that is expressed in the contrasts between the two landscapes; despite their differences, in the context of homestead life, each requires the other for its existence. These two pursuits—that of raising cattle and that of maintaining a garden—have vastly different outcomes and express quite different values, yet both require a good understanding of ecology, plants, changing seasons, and weather patterns, and both require significant human endeavour. The philosopher Robert Pogue Harrison highlights this divergence: “conventional wisdom has it that gardens first arose either as a byproduct of agriculture or as a form of primitive agriculture”.4 He also offers the words of the poet W. S. Merwin, who believed that, “if anything agriculture arose as a result of gardening, not the other way around”.5 Harrison’s observation that “gardens mark our separation from nature even as they draw us closer to it”6 rings true for me. This phrase articulates an important aspect of View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station. The broadleaf bottle tree featured in                                                                                                                 4 Harrison, Gardens, 40. 5 Merwin, W.S. quoted in Harrison, Gardens, 40. 6 Ibid. Fig. 107. John Glover, Mount Wellington with Orphan Asylum, van Diemen’s Land (1837). Fig. 108. Pierre Patels, The Palace of Versailles (1668).   120   the painting marks the separation of the farmland from the garden but also draws us closer to the different kind of beauty of the outlying, parched landscape. The garden frames the homestead and gives voice to the success of the farming enterprise but also acts as a conduit by which to express the owners’ personal narrative, family history, and cultural heritage, and the challenges and paradoxes of this approach to land management. Outside the garden looking in One example of the reverse view, from the outside looking in, is a small en plein air study, The Ivy Tree, Cotswolds (2011) (fig. 109), I made from the side of the road of a private garden in the Cotswolds. Strangely, for the entire time it took me to paint this picture, I was watched by a woman from the second-floor window of the house to which it belonged. I had been driving back to my hotel after a full day’s painting and happened upon this wonderfully strange hedge and tree and decided to stop to take a closer look. Although chance plays a role in the discovery of painting subjects, it must be said that the more I have immersed myself in this garden subject, the more often scenes and gardens have shown themselves to be painted. The dead tree featured in the centre of the painting was slowly being consumed by ivy and reminded me of a burnt tree in my own garden (fig. 110) that has been taken over by star jasmine. The view has been slightly manipulated to draw out the narrative and heighten the almost comical nature of the tree figure. I have used the parting clouds and the blue of the sky to point inwards and frame the tree. Fig. 109. The Ivy Tree, Cotswolds, (2011). Fig. 110. The Kitten Tree, Hillston, (2011).   121   The shadows in the foreground lean forward like hands trying to touch the ivy tree but fall just short of the top of the hedge. The dark clouds on the horizon have been emphasised to add weight to the bottom half of the painting and split the composition to afford the waving limbs more prominence against the white of the clouds. The tree itself has been turned front on to face the viewer which shifts the emphasis of the overall painting towards the tree. The foreground, hedge, and sky act as a stage, and whilst this shift in position flattens the composition, it also serves to heighten the interaction between tree and viewer. This tree, seen from the outside looking in, is seen as a striking point of comparison with the Stuart’s Creek bottle tree. The challenges of en plein air Over the week of my stay at Stuart’s Creek Station I made several paintings focusing on different aspects of the garden, but I felt that only two were successful: View from the Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station and View from the Remnant Garden Stuart’s Creek Station, Roma (2011) (fig. 111). When painting en plein air I tend to shift between oils or acrylics depending on the predicted weather, time-related factors, and whether there is a need to travel by plane. While in the UK I had worked exclusively in acrylic, which suited the conditions and the fact that I was moving around. The temperatures during the day ranged between eighteen and twenty-two degrees celsius, allowing the paint to dry over a consistent time and at a manageable rate. In central Queensland, however, the dry air and hotter conditions made it a challenge to work fast enough with the acrylics with which I had arrived. The need to balance the choice of subject, the various conditions, and the range of materials when painting outdoors is a constant challenge. The relatively simple view of the bottle tree painted from inside the garden on the last day of my stay captured something meaningful about the place and I felt was an image that I could take further in the studio. Perhaps contributing to the success or at least the promise of this work was the fact that towards the end of my stay, heavy clouds rolled in and it rained for the first time in months. The clouds provided added interest in terms of painting and the rising humidity markedly extended the drying time of the acrylic paint, which allowed me to work at a more regular and consistent pace.   122   During my time in the UK and at Stuart’s Creek Station I renewed my focus on the creative tension around evaluating the success of the works I produce en plein air and what was produced in the studio based on the en plein air studies. When painting from nature I have generally achieved a reasonably naturalistic portrayal of the subject, something I have set out to do. But when working in the studio from my en plein air studies, the work naturally shifts towards a more heightened, intensified version. This is something that I have questioned in the past but this process of research has helped me to more clearly define the difference between what is created in the studio from what is captured when painting en plein air. To build upon what I experienced when painting from life—to take what was important at the time and to develop the creative capacity to distill what is there, to re-edit, exaggerate and intensify and make a new version of that place. To harness the captured fragments and what I saw as important at a moment in time and to blur and heighten those memories through the creation of something new. Creating tension within any composition is important and is something that I look to achieve within my paintings. In View of Stuart’s Creek Station, (Rain Coming) (2014) (fig. 106) I have emphasised the horizontality of the landscape through the directional application of brush marks to work in opposition to and highlight the strong vertical presence of the bottle tree. I have also positioned the (whole) tree in such a way so that the fine upper branches and twigs have a direct dialogue with the edge of the picture frame. This is often made more important by the fact that I am painting my version of an already composed view. Inside looking out View from the Remnant Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station (2011) (fig. 111) was painted en plein air over a period of two days, briefly interrupted by a visit from a two-metre brown snake that slithered under my table while I was painting. This was definitely not the Cotswolds! This view depicts a remnant section of the original garden that borders the paddock, now largely untended. The green tinge of the grass in the foreground is testament to the care it once received, but the fence wire is broken and the area is now accessible to livestock. When I first saw the view of the paddock from the old garden at Stuart’s Creek I decided to paint it as a companion piece for   123   Uplands House Garden Panorama (2011) (fig. 112) using exactly the same size and format to depict the garden and the view of the paddock. Many early colonial artists such as John Glover, Joseph Lycett, and Eugene von Guerard pictured gardens and pastoral scenes the other way around, painting views of the houses and gardens from the paddock. Tim Bonyhady writes of A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills’ Plain as reflecting Glover’s “pride in how he was transforming the colonial earth”.7 The painting View from the Remnant Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station could suggest the reverse, one hundred and eighty years on: a once thriving garden falling into disrepair. An awareness of this perspective—that I was painting gardens from inside looking out—occurred while researching the work of artists such as Glover. My inclination had always been towards the depiction of the garden as an existing, already transformed, place. While I was aware that colonial artists portrayed early gardens as a symbol of success and a record of their ‘civilising’ force, I had not until now drawn the link so directly to what I set out to achieve. The field trip to the UK was a significant turning point for my research. This concentrated period of painting a specific subject day after day enabled me to evaluate what I had achieved to that point and consider new possible directions. One quite large change that resulted from the field trip was that instead of trying to                                                                                                                 7 Tim Bonyhady, The Colonial Earth (Melbourne University Press, 2000), 94. Fig. 111. View from the Remnant Garden, Stuart’s Creek Station (2011). Fig. 112. Uplands House Garden Panorama (2011).   124   produce completed en plein air works in each session, I decided to take more time with each work and, if necessary, work over several days—much the same approach that I would take in the studio. My thinking was that I would approach painting en plein air the way I would approach gardening. The aim was to make each en plein air painting more about the time spent (experience) in a garden rather than capturing the subject and the compositional information to produce a painting back in the studio. This allowed my focus to shift from the overall to the specific, to the deep shadows and changing light or to hidden views, natural rhythms, and foliage.   125   iii. Cherry Doughnut, Kingswood, Western Sydney This painting came about by chance and confirms for me the notion that almost everything is potential subject matter for a painting; it just depends on the way we look at things. I was in Kingswood, Western Sydney to get my car serviced in preparation for a painting trip to Moree to paint Boolooroo Station’s garden the next day, so I had my paints packed in the boot of the car. The car was booked in for a one-hour service that actually took four hours. This delay turned out to be a gift of time to paint. What initially sparked my interest in this scene was the fact that this manicured formal piece of garden seemed so out of place. It looked as though the council had decided to add it to the corner of the park as an afterthought and I couldn’t help but wonder what the council workers charged with maintaining this folly thought about this strange piece of garden design. The painting Cherry Doughnut, Kingswood, Western Sydney (2011) (fig. 113) depicts a very small section of a much larger view that on first impression is an unremarkable scene. The area adjoining the parks is a cluttered, slightly shabby, medium density slice of suburbia. This particular parkland fronts the Great Western Fig. 113. Cherry Doughnut, Kingswood, Western Sydney (2011).   126   Highway and is surrounded on three sides by modest, poorly built houses and 1970s red brick flats. On the opposite side of the highway there are car-yards, a service station, various light industrial businesses crammed with signage spruiking their services and wares, and the suburban train line. The concept of a garden for most of us is a familiar part of human culture; because they are commonplace, gardens may go unnoticed or unappreciated. In the urban setting, with cost and space pressures on the increase, it seems that gardens are more and more considered non-essential places. Urbanisation, vertical living, and the embrace of digital and virtual technologies combined with more sedentary behaviours make our interactions with nature much less frequent and much less real. While vertical living and our need to still be connected to nature has generated the trend of vertical gardens, as a form of nature they in themselves signal our separation from the earth and the natural cycle of growth and slow decay. Gardens and gardening reflect the advances of technology. Cherry Doughnut, Kingswood, Western Sydney is testament to British textile designer, Edwin Beard Budding’s invention of the lawnmower. There is a certain forced happiness I have tried to imbue in this work through my painting of the cherry tree. Depicted here, the trees and bushes serve as my figures in the landscape and the cherry tree’s metaphoric exuberance awkwardly waves to passersby. The box hedge doughnut gives weight and presence to the cherry tree. The brush marks that illustrate the foreground lawn and bricks are purposely directional and radiate out from the centre of the picture to both break up the expanse of lawn and re-emphasise the importance and peculiarity of the energy of the tree and hedge. Just prior to my encounter with the Cherry Doughnut I had been reading Joseph Leo Koerner’s book Caspar David Friedrich and the Subject of Landscape and was inspired by his analysis of Friedrich’s painting Trees and Bushes in Snow (1828) (fig. 114). Koerner’s poetic description put into words the tension Friedrich created by impeding our view through the thicket, the outer twigs of which extend to the edges of the composition. Whilst the Cherry Doughnut featured in the painting isn’t blocking the view and could be describe as a centralised, iconic feature more   127   reminiscent of Spencer’s Stinging Nettles, Trees and Bushes in Snow led me to consider compositional tension and the importance of the picture frame. “You do not stand before a ‘landscape’, since the thicket blocks any wider prospect of its setting, nor do the snow and alders, pushed up against the picture plane, quite constitute the monumentality of a ‘scene’, for they provide the habitat for an event. What alone welcomes you, what corresponds to your attention, is the thicket’s very placement in the picture”.8 My aim when painting the studio-based picture was to set up a compositional structure that would do one of two things. I placed the cherry tree and the circular hedge in the foreground as a focal point so that each, in combination, could express their difference. The bright colours and distinctive forms of the cherry tree and the doughnut hedge draw our attention to them and contrast with the dark foliage of the gum trees. The illusion of space in the mid-ground that separates the cherry doughnut from the gum trees highlights the contrast between the introduced and native plants. Yet, while the form of the cherry tree and hedge are seemingly so out of place, what we are looking at is somehow also very familiar—a real Australian scene expressing a suburban vernacular imposition.                                                                                                                 8 Joseph Leo Koerner, Caspar David Friedrich and the Subject of Landscape (Second edition, expanded and updated) (London: Reaktion Books, 1990–2009), 9. Fig. 114. Caspar David Friedrich, Trees and Bushes in Snow (1828).   128   As I was painting the study for this work, I recall feeling a sense of nostalgia about the place and strong emotions that related to my earliest experiences and visual memories of similar Brisbane parklands. This sense of nostalgia harked back to childhood memories of large open spaces as part of new housing estates in which parkland was set aside and developed for the future, but then seemed to lay in wait for someone to arrive. And whilst in my mind, parks and gardens are places designed for engagement, this scene, like parklands from my past, conjures up a very emotional response through its lack of any meaningful human engagement. For me, both this park and the parks from my past are spaces one moves through on the way to somewhere else; but parks such as these belie the concept “that in the modern urban world, the garden having once been a place for man to escape from the threats of nature” has become a “refuge for men”.9 In many ways, these badly integrated parks and gardens are nature suspended, set aside out of tradition, and now exist almost as an homage to our desire to engage with the natural world. This also builds on the theme I have explored throughout this entire period of research, seen more specifically within the paintings of my own garden in Springwood. In the case of this parkland it is worth acknowledging that while an attempt has been made to make it look natural, nothing about this landscape remains untouched, and more and more we find it hard to define what real nature is (for example, terms such as virgin bush, natural, pastoral landscape, garden landscape, fire-stick farming, back burning, etc. have become part of our common discourse). The multi-dimensional aspect of gardens—the different combination of plants and even competing styles within a garden—fascinates me. This garden view is part formal parterre garden and part Continental European garden (English) but with a colloquial twist. Here, high garden traditions are held hostage to the vernacular and reduced to an awkward regional quirk. By using the stems and branches of the cherry tree to radiate out and up, I have partially screened the native gums in the distance which in turn has allowed the dark foliage of the gum trees to become the platform on which to accentuate the vibrancy of the floral forms. The gum trees could have been planted when the park was developed but I suspect that they were left in place                                                                                                                 9 Ibid, 319.   129   and are the remnants of this area’s bushland. Strangely, the uneven clumps of gums and the open grassland recall England’s Eighteenth Century landscape gardens, created by Lancelot ‘Capability’ Brown, which emphasised punctuating expanses of lawn with groups of trees and man-made lakes (the only things missing are the serpentine lake and crumbling ruin!). During the many hours I spent in this park I saw almost no one else. The absence of people was unsettling and it was a quality I tried to capture in this work. At different times I have experienced similar suburban parks that have been designed for community participation and enjoyment. When uninhabited these types of parks and gardens take on an eerie quality that is, in some ways, more threatening than the solitude of bush landscapes. In parts of Western Sydney and other suburbs on the urban fringe, infrastructure like this garden park are put in place and seemingly lie in wait for the community to build up around them. These garden parkland ‘spaces in waiting’ express a loneliness—one that is hard to define—not overtly threatening, but more foreboding. The emotions that gardens evoke are an important part of my motivation for painting such scenes. With my own garden, I long to share with others the deep joy and satisfaction found in working to add to and maintain the garden. This desire to share my garden also corresponds with a satisfaction felt in sharing what is captured through painting. (*As an aside, it is approximately four years since I painted the Kingswood parkland garden; I drove past it recently and it has fallen into disrepair and several of the plants are either dead or in the process of dying.)   130   iv. Springwood Paintings Introduction In this section, I focus on several key works based on my own garden and outline the general approach taken to produce the larger body of work that constitutes part of this research. These works were completed over approximately three years but in a sequence broken up by the production of numerous works of the sixteen other gardens I painted. I had no preordained system or approach other than to create a series of works through a continuum in which each work informed the next. It was important for this research that my subject be investigated over a sustained period of time so that I could judge my work against my reasoned exploration of the topic, relevant texts, any new understandings, key artists who had explored similar ground, and historical precedents, all combining with my critical thinking around material and practice. Mood and atmospheric perspectives formed a significant part of the new investigations developed in the paintings I produced in late 2012 and early 2013 as part of this research and these are further discussed here. Winter dogwood Dogwood Before Dark (2013) (fig. 115) is one of the few works of my garden painted not from within the garden but from an elevated position looking down. This work depicts the view from the back balcony of the house looking down onto the garden and out across to the bush. Like several other works produced around this time, it is an expression of the muted golden tones that often occur as the sun is setting and that are common to many Romantic allegorical landscapes. Prior to starting this painting I had begun a period of re-evaluating my working methods because of a need to address the tension that existed between my studio and en plein air practice. Despite the advantages of immediacy and the sensory experiences offered by painting from life, the control afforded by being in the studio complemented the direction of some of the more atmospheric works.   131   It may be obvious to state that the dogwood tree pictured in the foreground is one of the key focuses of this work, but set against the dogwood is the backdrop of bush that encloses the garden and defines the order and anatomy of the space. What has also been defined is the distinct nature of the individual elements of the scene. This heightened definition and centralised clustering of plant forms also exaggerates the strong vertical (portrait) format. The dark silhouetted pine on the right side of the image and the pines angled inward stress contrast and crowd the clustered trees. The term ‘hemmed in’ would best describe the emotional intention I wished to portray through the arrangement of the pictorial structure. A garden hemmed in by wild nature is a common juxtaposition in the Blue Mountains and one expressed in my own garden. It also is informed by the notion of enclosure that permeates this research. The bush and perimeter hedges delineate the garden. The clustered elements mingle oddly at the centre of the picture but through colour and tonal contrast step back through the scene to suggest depth. These elements also express their own sense of hierarchy through ascending scale and positioning. My use of an overt symmetry is a common compositional trait that I employ and in this case was designed to amplify the orthodoxy and my adherence to standard pictorial conventions. Through the amplification of orthodox conventions and the viewer’s own recognition of this I endeavour to create a sense of disquiet or unease and a questioning of what is seen. Fig. 115. Dogwood Before Dark (2012).   132   Dogwood Before Dark is grounded in atmospherics and the nostalgia we feel in the gloaming where plant forms intermingle and deep shadows begin to coalesce. This painting was the result of an investigation into atmospherics, light, muted colour combinations, and multilayered glazing techniques. The detail shown in figure 116 illustrates the multi-layered approach in the application of colour and tone, and the variation of brightness and density of pigment. Each different form was initially blocked in with a dark rich base tone and built up slowly using slightly lighter layers as I progressed. The scale of the brush marks remained similar throughout the process; I used either a No 2 or No 4 size Neef filbert brush. While the overall composition is relatively formal and each individual tree or hedge is well defined, I sought to challenge this rigidity through the use of small-scale multi-directional loose brush marks. This also lent a sense of movement to the different foliage and enlivened the areas of deep shadow with variations of dark tone and movement. At various stages through this process and as the surface was accumulating its material and physical character, I applied thin glazes of deep Olive Green, Australian Red Gold, and Raw Umber combined with Paynes Grey. This experimentation built on simular techniques trialled when painting the much smaller work Golden shadow, Hillston (2012). The stage Gina Crandell’s writing on Renaissance painting, elevating the spectator, portrait landscapes, and the stage prompted a sharpening of approach to some familiar compositional ideas. In Nature Pictorialised, Crandell offers Jan van Fig. 116. Surface detail of Dogwood Before Dark (2012).   133   Eyck’s The Madonna and Chancellor Rolin (1425) (fig. 117) as an example of what she describes as the “terrace solution”,10 which depicts a panoramic landscape with distant views that uses the “mechanics of composition”11 to position the subject. This multiple portrait pictured against a landscape divides the composition and compartmentalises the (linked) narrative from what is happening in the foreground and what is in the background, in doing so setting up a stage-like quality and communicating a layered or dual narrative. Crandell’s analysis of van Eyck’s painting influenced the compositional direction of several works, including Dogwood Before Dark (2012) and to some extent Dusk, Looking Through Big Pines (2012). This later painting is a largely remodelled composition based on an en plein air study. For this larger version I employed a more elongated format to heighten the sense of drama and position the viewer’s line of sight in the bottom half of the picture plane. The small glimpse of water in the lower third of the painting (fig. 118, i., left) was positioned to draw the eye to the base of the pines and to create tension between their tips as they extend almost to the top of the frame. The bushes on the lower left side of the picture combine with the deep tones of the foreground shadow to frame and contrast with the inviting glimpse of the blue-green water and the illuminated hedges in front of the two pines. In terms of my actual garden’s composition these pines are a central element and stand in stark                                                                                                                 10 Gina Crandell, Nature Pictorialised: “The View” in Landscape History (The John Hopkins University Press, Baltimore and London, 1993), 76. 11 Ibid, 77. Fig. 117. Jan van Eyck’s The Madonna and Chancellor Rolin (1425).   134   contrast to the native bush. In purely compositional terms it would be accurate to say they are a dominant architectural feature from which the rest of the garden radiates. The large angophoras and white mahoganies in the mid- distance form the backdrop, conveying this difference but also expressing the juxtaposition of wild nature and the shaped garden landscape. The angles (illustrated by white lines in fig. 118., ii., centre), drifting down from left to right were built into the composition to counterbalance the angle of the large angophora in the mid-distance and the angle of the right-hand edge of the two bushes in the foreground (illustrated by blue lines). These two opposing sets of angles create interest by contradicting the rigid verticality of the pair of big pines. The mood of the sky replicates the atmospherics of summer gloaming I experience regularly in the garden. A sentiment that describes what I hope to communicate through Dusk, Looking Through Big Pines (2012) is “appearances owe their poignancy—their almost unbearable beauty and power of evocation—to the time-boundedness that attunes us to the fleeting views of nature”.12                                                                                                                 12 Harrison, Gardens, 20. Fig. 118. i, ii, iii. Dusk, Looking Through Big Pines (2012) illustrates the key elements of the composition.   135   Winter Dogwood (2011) (fig. 119) and Winter Shadows and Camellias (2011– 2012) (fig. 120) were conceived as companion pieces and depict the view from my studio. While both works are garden paintings, my intent was for each to be a portrait of the angophoras that sit at the back edge of the formal part of the garden. Their scale, position, and identity delineate the boundary between the native and the introduced as the slope gently increases and drops away into the bush. Since painting these two pictures I have made substantial changes to this area of the garden and worked to more clearly define the separation they illustrate. In Winter Dogwood, the fine, radiating, lace-like branches of the dogwood extend across the picture plane and act as barrier to what lies beyond. In Winter Shadows and Camellias, the viewer is offered an open invitation through a clear line of sight and a framed view to the central motif of the angophora. The large tree was also given more prominence by the purposeful lack of foliage. My intention was to use the tree’s form and to bring out what I saw as its anthropomorphic characteristics. Subtle changes were made to its form so that it more clearly emulated a human figure: the upwardly outstretched branches act as a welcome; the pink of the trunk was adjusted to suggest human flesh; and the background foliage was darkened and shaped to project the form. The triangular shape of the tree’s upper limbs is mirrored in and conforms with the angle of the orange leaves of the tulip tree on the left side of the painting, as does the sky that punctuates the dense bush. Part of my thinking behind this composition was to juxtapose the directness of the angles in the top half of the painting with the natural curves of the hedge, shadow, and garden bed in the foreground. On the right side of the composition I have used the linear, directional qualities of the Banksia Rose to curve in and point the viewer to the central tree. Many of the structural decisions I have outlined were not preplanned but part of a process of incremental adjustments or refinements that took place over a period of time and in reference to other works in this series. Each of these works informed the other.   136   When writing about my paintings it is important to acknowledge that there is much testing and a degree of trial and error, the known and the unknown, hesitation and discovery, all of which are part of an intuitive process of problem solving built on my existing knowledge and experience. A split view Hedged forms appear in almost all of the paintings of my own garden. This was not a conscious decision but can be attributed partly to my predilection for structure and partly to the association of hedges with philosophical and emotional notions of protection, safety, and order. As previously stated, Spencer’s Red Magnolias (fig. 79) was inspirational in terms of its composition when painting Split View with Hedge and Pine (2011) (fig. 121); as in Winter Shadows and Camellias, I have shaped the sky into a triangular format. This mirrors the shape created by the branches, splitting the picture plane and lending the distant pine more prominence. As well as splitting the composition in half diagonally, the hedge forms a horizontal divider between the pine in the top half of the painting. The heavy shadow employed under the hedge gives the hedge and the foreground weight and a foundation to the composition, as well as contrasting tonally with the soft blue sky. The flecks of light yellowy-green highlights seen through the hedge were added later in the studio to strengthen the horizontality of the (composition) hedge and foreground and add to the illusion of depth. Fig. 119. Left: Winter Dogwood (2011). Fig. 120. Right: Winter Shadows and Camellias (2011–2012).   137   This work was painted en plein air in an attempt to capture the sensation that is created by light as it falls through leaves and the traces of bending shadow as they fall across the lower branches. It was a simple but direct response to an everyday experience in the garden. My intention was for the mottled branches to be directly in front of the viewer, creating the perception of being under the trees and inside the garden where you could imagine simultaneously the warmth of the sun and the cool of the shade. Big Autumn The overall composition of Big Autumn (2012–2013) (fig. 122) pictures a view from my studio and is anchored by two quite distinct plant forms that frame the middle view and set up a centralised stage. Featured on the left is a large, head-shaped bush (a port wine magnolia), and on the right is the naturally sculpted form of a cypress pine. The panoramic format allows for the easy depiction of multiple viewpoints. The view at the far left of the work is closed in and consists of a series of hedges that act as barriers to what lies beyond, while the more open right-hand side of the painting allows for a view of the native bush. I have added a small nod to the picturesque in the form of a view across water and, while there is no crumbling temple or serpentine lake, this is my small homage to Capability Brown. Fig. 121. Split View, Hedge and Pine (2011).   138   The foreground is clear across the width of the painting and provides no impediment to entry. I wanted the work to suggest to the viewer an invitation to step into the garden. Compositionally I have divided the background section into two quite distinct sections but have allowed for the foreground area to bind the horizontality of the work. The work was intended to parallel John Glover’s painting, which “showed these flowers all blooming together out of their proper seasons, in order to heighten the impression of bounty”.13 Big Autumn pictures the colour of leaves and the turn of a season; but as the leaves fall, the camellias flower and spring bulbs sprout. This painting revisits the format and the tenor of View of the Artist’s Garden, Hillston (2011) (fig. 123). Again, in View of the Artist’s Garden, Hillston, the fruit is seen ripening on the tree, flowers bloom, and leaves turn as the seasons overlap. The composition takes in a 220-degree view and I have spaced key trees and bushes quite evenly across the picture to allow for each to have a form of separation. I have done this in an endeavour to give each their own personality.                                                                                                                 13 Tim Bonyhady, The Colonial Earth (Melbourne University Press, 2000), 95. Fig. 122. Big Autumn (2012–2013). Fig. 123. View of the Artist’s Garden, Hillston (2011).   139   The long hedges, garden edge, and lawn area in the foreground and continuous blue of the sky have been deployed to strengthen the sense of panorama. The big pines and the view between them anchor one half of the painting, while to the right the pepper tree stretches across to link the other half. In the absolute centre of the painting I have positioned an angophora that is coloured and shaped to suggest a human form. What would not be clear from the work itself is that parts of this painting incorporate plants that were not there at the time but that I intended to introduce. Since painting this picture in 2011 those plants have become part of the garden, which now more closely resembles this view. Of the many works produced as part of this research, Under the Pepper Tree (2011) (fig. 124) is one work where I vividly recall the emotional experience I had while painting. My attachment to this painting is not just based on its composition or the colours or even the material quality or what is depicted but the meaning I found through the act of painting. Whilst it is a painting of my garden, the real focal point of the painting is the two trees, one a mandarin, the other a clementine. Each year for the past ten years I have pruned and cared for them, and each year they have rewarded me with hundreds of fruit. This painting visualises the active relationship I have with these two citrus trees and my garden, and expresses my personal memories of an experience I had painting my garden. Fig. 124. Under the Pepper Tree, Hillston (2011).   140   ! ! ! ! The following concluding chapter presents a reflective and critical commentary to draw the work to a close. It reflects on my research questions and key themes raised throughout this process in relation to my practice of painting and gardening. It also identifies the key artists and several important texts that informed my thinking and points to some of strengths and short-comings of the project, and toward areas in need of further investigation.   141   Conclusion The genesis of this project was my fascination with gardens as a transfigured physical entity and as a subject for painting. John Glover’s painting A View of the Artist’s House and Garden, Mills Plains, Van Diemen’s Land (1835) (fig. 23) provided the initial inspiration as well as an historical framework and pictorial precedent through which to frame and visualise this project. While I have read widely and studied numerous works of art by a broad range of artists, many of the questions I have asked, such as those that relate to the many parallels that exist between painting and gardening, were crystalised through painting my subject. Worth highlighting is Robert Pogue Harrison’s reflections on ‘The Lost Art of Seeing’ in Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition as it provided me with a philosophical framework in which to consider my own approach to seeing. Harrison’s thoughtful deliberations coupled looking with the notion of truly seeing and then linked both, with time. His drawing together of looking, seeing and time, steer me towards these important parallels and practices required for both gardening and painting. Equally David E. Cooper’s text A Philosophy of Gardens for his wide- ranging exploration of what gardens mean and why gardens matter. This study has explored the idea that, both gardens and paintings are constructions by designer-makers and are products of the creative process, but when drawn together, can be defined as the intersection of nature and culture. The creative process—the thinking and making—requires experimentation, method, representation and finally transformation. Central to the appreciation of a garden is aesthetic considerations such as composition and specific features that combine in their design to inform, all of which can also be associated with the formal features within a painting. The rich cultural history and inter-connectedness that artists have with gardens has made for a truly rewarding exploration. Stanley Spencer, John Glover and Caspar David Friedrich have helped locate my study and frame many of my questions in relation to the painting process, composition and technique. By frequently returning to examine what is expressed in their paintings, and in the way they worked, I have been able to analyse different approaches and reflect upon my visual concerns. Their art and the work of many others also helped locate   142   developments in garden landscape painting, different ways of depiction and the evolution of the Picturesque. My methodological approach from the beginning has been shaped by active field– work as a mechanism to explore the variety of styles expressed by different types of garden and then, to apply that experiential knowledge to the paintings I produced of my own garden. Partly, as a keen garden-maker I did this out of a curiosity to further understand how gardens are made but also to obtain a comprehensive overview of their many manifestations as expressed through style, colour, planting, and formal choices in current and historical garden practices. Knot gardens, English Parkscapes, French Parterre gardens, Cottage gardens, Memorial gardens and a European style Modernist garden have all formed part of this study. The experience gained from this extended period of exploration—the multitude of different painting situations, the small challenges encountered along the way, along with the possibilities that have been opened up through experimentation—are embodied in my paintings. Much of the progress has been incremental but at times quite small changes have resulted in major advances such as the shift in emphasis from en plein air to larger less naturalistic other-worldly studio-based works. Over the course of this exploration, the sustained painting of gardens has slowly revealed the curious parallels that painting and gardens have in relation to one another. Some of the more obvious parallels are the pictorial conventions expressed through style, colour and composition; another is the practical considerations founded in the physical and material properties each require; further to this are the cultural considerations bound up in nature, the environment and politics. Other parallels are more esoteric and relate to the power of our imagination and our sense of wonder and mystery. This in turn, is coupled with the expression of meaning (symbolic, allegoric or metaphoric) that can help invoke ideas such as a sense of place. In terms of a painting, what lies inside or outside the frame or in terms of a gardens, its boundary—help to inform and add meaning. Prominent gardens such as the Everglades and Boolooroo Station provided added levels of inspiration through designs that closely modelled my own pictorial inclinations; their well-conceived, ordered complexities lent themselves to a   143   multitude of interpretations. By developing several smaller parallel bodies of work based on gardens like Uplands House, The Everglades, and Rowan’s Garden I was able to better analyse and develop my thinking in combination with my material practice. These works, and each garden’s different place, style and physical manifestation were invaluable when it came to producing paintings of my own garden in Springwood. At the time of making these discreet bodies of work I considered each garden’s individual form or personality important because I believe it speaks to the maker’s vision—an expression of physical and visual reality. While this is still true, upon reflection and after reviewing the many different gardens I have painted, I have come to the realisation that a garden’s context—its position in the world—is what gives it real meaning. The garden maker is crucial in terms of the creation of form and the garden’s outward appearance; however, it is a garden’s position that grounds it in time giving it a social context and from that, attaches to it site-specific cultural- and political- attributes and associations. The process and challenge of painting different types gardens in different terrains and localities, in some cases under quite difficult conditions, has led me to make changes to my usual methods of en plein air and studio practice. These changes were implemented as a response to the location of the various gardens I painted, the artists I studied, and the types of garden images I wanted to make. As my research progressed the paintings gained in material complexity, and I spent more time considering my process, my materials, mediums, and techniques in an effort to heighten effect. This experimentation and search for ways to draw together the composition of both gardens and painting were an attempt to intensify atmospherics that heighten the emotional connection to place and ultimately to activate an intensification of experience. These ideas flowed through to additional plantings and to the extensions I implemented to the existing garden in Springwood and to what has become a more long-term project of reconfiguring and composing new sections of garden in the anticipation of new paintings. Transforming a place, with seeds, a variety of plants, colours, textures, and through style and composition has now become part of my ongoing creative process. In the latter stages of my research, the paintings of my garden became more layered and less bound by naturalistic concerns as I focused on the types of brush marks,   144   descriptive details, and atmospherics of each new painting. Their outward appearance shifted to be more focused on time, mood, and the other worldliness that gardens and paintings can express. Through this study I now realise, that gardens can exist—like Eden—as places in the mind, and that gardens prevail in our memory as imaginary places that are known in different ways to all of us. I know with my own garden I have an understanding of what it is as well as a vision of its potential—what it can offer and what it could be. In order to visualise the transient sensory aspects of gardens and allude to a more imaginary place, I felt the need to adjust some of my methods. I devoted much more time in the field to each painting, made changes to the type of canvas I used, changed my oil paints to a brand with a much higher concentration of pigment, and introduced a variety of mediums. I also implemented more complex tonal variations and glazing techniques, and introduced multi-layered underpainting to increase surface density, tension, and luminosity. One overarching aim was to produce images of gardens by drawing out certain features that, once framed in a particular way, are accentuated to express a form of communicable meaning. My hope was to communicate not just something personal but something contemporary. The large angophoras and dense bushland that feature in paintings of my own garden, for example, signify for me a form of cultural schism, a marker between the safety offered by the garden and the wildness of nature. This separation defines the garden’s duality and the innate politics of its position while reinforcing the central theme of the shaped landscape. Before this project, I considered the act of painting to be one thing and the act of gardening to be another. When painting a garden I viewed this as part of my painting practice and when gardening I merely considered it to be gardening. A quite unexpected outcome has been that each pursuit has enriched the other; each fulfils a similar creative desire and the line between the two practices has blurred. The most acute similarity between the two is the habitual observation both require. Through the process of focused study I have arrived at a situation where painting my garden and the way I see landscape and nature has been challenged and enriched. In the future I see my work shifting emphasis to a more conceptual approach. This I envisage would more directly accentuate the politics of garden landscapes and their embedded cultural meaning.   145   The beauty of gardens, like paintings, is that they are relatively easy to rework. Having spent countless hours pruning and clipping to shape numerous hedges in my own garden I have found something deeply satisfying not just in seeing the newly defined shapes but, in time, the fresh green shoots as each plant starts the process all over again. The pruning and shaping connects a gardener to each plant and the regrowth is nature’s response to their efforts. This cycle of give and take, of care and repair, is in essence the reshaped, humanised landscape and for me these actions are not so much about control but a shared path of wellbeing. The same can be said about painting—there is something deeply satisfying in reworking and reshaping parts of a picture and in the subsequent emotional response experienced as a result of your efforts. This project has been extremely valuable, as it has allowed me to develop and extend my visual memory, something that I believe is an essential part of the creative process. As human beings we can experience quite profound moments even when confronted with the most ordinary scene. As an artist I try to read the landscape, tap into the profundity that I find within the (changed) landscapes, and not just paint a fleeting moment but recall, recreate, and relive past memories. As artists, I believe we seek clarity of vision through creative endeavour; creative endeavour allows me to visually sift through where I go and what I do to arrive at a point where there is some form of symbolic meaning. I say this without attributing some form of heroics, or a monumental shift in thinking or to some kind of profound light-bulb moment, but more a private, personal reflective sense of purpose with continuity that allows for insight through critical thinking and continued pictorial questioning. By its very nature this project has taken me along many paths; by recording, reflecting, and analysing each step along the way I have been able to develop a deeper understanding of my subject and art practice. I now have a much clearer understanding of my garden subject. I have become the artist gardener. ! ! ! ! My own journey through this project in many ways mirrors the growth and evolution expressed in the life of a garden; I come away from the experience uplifted as do, I hope, viewers of my paintings. As stated in my introduction, a garden, like the   146   creation of a painting, is an act of anticipation as well as an expression of optimism. Through this interaction of making I have encountered experience and reward. What is difficult to reconcile, however, is that whilst refuge can be found in the garden, that refuge has come at a cost. The taking of land from Aboriginal people and role that colonial gardens played in our history needs be acknowledged; until there is real constitutional recognition and reparation for the taking of land paid to the original custodians of this country, there remains—unsettled business.   147   Appendix i. The story of the broad-leafed bottle tree from Stuart’s Creek By Lillian Tomkins, Toowoomba, 27/02/2014 (D. O. B. 1923) Many years ago, and now I am quite sure that it was 1956 because that was the year Rosie and Libby commenced at the Glennie Prep and at that time Ann was at Stuart’s Creek and about five years old and so she was with us when we went on a very comprehensive trip through Queensland. Ken was President of the Queensland Graziers’ Association, and probably the trip was to visit all or as many as possible of the cattle producers to rally their cause. We were driving a Humber Super Snipe which we had flown to Melbourne to collect in the middle of 1947. How well I remember that, for it was the first flight I had ever made in any aeroplane bigger than a tiger moth on a joy flight in Roma. 1956—We drove from Stuart’s Creek to Blackall where we met our good friends Reg and Kath Mant from Brooweena (near Maryborough) and Reg was helping Ken at meetings in various western towns—they must have flown from Brisbane to Blackall. As Reg Mant’s cousin managed Barcaldine Downs, we had planned to spend a couple of nights with them. His Christian name has gone out of my head—I do recall he had a brother Brian Gaide in Brisbane who I think was a stockbroker. And I think the station manager’s wife’s surname was Button—probably because that name amused Ann and me. It is very, very strange why one forgets so many small details and is able to remember trivia. Barcaldine Downs homestead was a huge, double-storeyed timber house, bedroom and wide verandahs upstairs and living rooms, dining, offices, kitchen and cooks and maid quarters on the lower level. It was in the garden grounds that Ann and I found the little seedling bottle tree and we asked for a jam jar a few centimetres (inches then) in size to pot it and take it home. So it [the baby bottle tree] was in the boot of the Hummer Super Snipe for the next three to four weeks while we visited strange places: Isisford and Stonehenge; I recalled of course Longreach, Winton and Muttaburra, Hughenden and Richmond   148   and across to Cairns. Ann, dear little girl, watered the wee tree-in-a-jam-tin almost every day until we returned to Stuart’s Creek. There were lots of cattle towns on the way back from Cairns to Brisbane and Ann was glad to be home. She said one day “I’ve been to Cairns and I’ve been to Cunnamulla and I do not wish to travel any more”. God bless her. It [the tree] we removed from its jam tin and planted near the corner of the tennis court—no swimming pool in 1956—and in 56 years it has grown very happily. So that is the bottle tree story, and now it will be forever remembered from your painter friend’s beautiful pictures.   149   Bibliography Works cited Adams, William Howard. Nature Perfected: Garden Through History. London: Abbeville Press, 1991. Aitken, Richard. The Garden of Ideas: Four Centuries of Australian Style. Melbourne, Victoria: The Miegunyah Press, An imprint of Melbourne University Press, 2010. A to Z Quotes: http://www.azquotes.com/author/3354-William_Cowper (accessed on 6/ 9/15). Backhouse, James. Journal, May 9, 1833, Part 6, p41, B730, ML. Bann, Stephen, Stephen Daniels, Martin Postle Edited: The Art of the Garden: The Garden in British Art, 1800 to the Present Day (London,Tate Publishing, 2004. Bell, Keith. Stanley Spencer. London, New York: Phaidon Press, 1992–2001. Bell, Keith. Hugh Casson, Richard Carline, Andrew Causey. Stanley Spencer RA, Royal Academy of Arts, London, published in association Weidenfield and Nicolson, London, 1980. Bermingham, Ann. Landscape and Ideology: The English Rustic Tradition, 1740– 1860, University of California Press, Berkely, Los Angeles, 1989. Briggs, Ronald. “European Discovery,” in “Carved Trees: Aboriginal Cultures of western NSW,” Nelson Meers Foundation, State Library of New South Wales, 2011, 12. Bonyhady, Tim. The Colonial Earth. Melbourne University Press, 2000. Bonyhady, Tim. Images in Opposition: Australian Landscape Painting, 1801–1890 Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1985. Borsch-Supan, Helmet, Caspar David Friedrich. Munich: Prestel-Verlag, 1990. Brady, Pheobe. University College Dublin, http://www.presidentsmedals.com/Entry 36411, (accessed 15 December 2016). Causey, Andrew. Stanley Spencer and the Art of his Time (Stanley Spencer, RA London: Royal Academy of Arts in Association with Weinenfield and Nicolson, 1980. Cliveden House: http://www.clivedenhouse.co.uk/hotel/estate-and-gardens1.aspx   150   (accessed on 22/ 7/15). Cooper, David. E. A Philosophy of Gardens, (Oxford, UK: Clarendon Press, 2006), 15. Crandell, Gina. Nature Pictorialised: The View in Landscape History. Baltimore and London: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 1993. Dixon Hunt, John and Willis, Peter. The Genius of Place: The English Landscape Garden 1620–1820. London, England: The MIT Press, 1988. http://www.encyclopedia.com/literature-and-arts/art-and-architecture/art general/picturesque (accessed 15 December 2016). Gammage, Bill. The Biggest Estate on Earth: How the Aborigines Made Australia. Sydney, Melbourne, Auckland, London: Allen & Unwin, 2011. Goldsworthy, Andy. Andy Goldsworthy, Viking, Penguin Books, London, 1990. Greider, Thomas and Lorraine Garkovich. Landscapes: The Social Construction of Nature and the Environment, Department of Sociology, University of Kentucky, Lexington, Kentucky, 40546–0215, 1994. Gunn, Fenja. Lost Gardens of Gertude Jekyll, (Letts, 1991), 160. Hansen, David. John Glover and the Colonial Picturesque. Tasmanian Museum and Art Gallery and Art Exhibitions Australia, 2003. Harrison, Robert Pogue. Gardens: An Essay on the Human Condition. Chicago, London: The University of Chicago Press, 2008. Mareike Hennig, et al. The Painter’s Garden: Design, Inspiration, Delight Hatje Cantz Verlag, Zeppelinstrasse 32, Ostfildern, Germany, 2002, 266. Historic Royal Palaces (2015), Kensington Palace, The Palace Garden http://www.hrp.org.uk/KensingtonPalace/stories/sunkengardens (accessed on 22/ 7/15). Holmes, Katie, Martin, Susan K and Mirmohamadi, Kylie. Reading the Garden: The Settlement of Australia, Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2008. Hoorn, Jeanette. Australian Pastoral: The Making of a White Landscape. Perth: Fremantle Press, 2007. Koerner, Joseph Leo. Caspar David Friedrich and the Subject of Landscape, Second edition, expanded and updated, London: Reaktion Books, 2009. Kriz, Kay Dian. The Idea of the English Landscape Painter: Genius as Alibi in the Nineteenth Century, Yale University Press, New Haven and London, 1997   151   Miller, Mara. The Garden as Art, USA: Suny Press, 1993. Marshall, David. The Problem with the Picturesque, Vol. 35, No. 3, Aesthetics and the Disciplines (Spring, 2002), 413–437. Martin, Peter. The Pleasures of Virginia: From Jamestown to Jefferson. University of Virginia, Charlottesville, London, 2001. Mayer, Laura. Capability Brown and the English Landscape Garden. Great Britain: Shire Library, 2011. McPhee, John. The Art of John Glover. London, New York, Dublin, Melbourne: Macmillan, 1980. Mitchell, Henry. The Essential Earthman: Henry Mitchell on Gardening. USA. Bloomington & Indianapolis: Indiana University Press, 1981. Morgan, Sharon. Land Settlement in Early Tasmania: Creating an Antipodean England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992. Morris, Colleen. Australian Dictionary of Biography, Volume 18, (MUP) (2012), Sorensen, Paul Edwin Bielenberg, (1891–1983) http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/sorensen-paul-edwin-bielenberg-15730 (accessed on 29/ 6/14). National Library of Australia, Trove, http://trove.nla.gov.au/ndp/del/article/ 60355684 (accessed on 3/ 10/15). National Trust, http://www.nationaltrust.org.uk/cliveden/ (accessed on 22/ 7/15). Olonetzky, Nardine. Sensations, A Time Travel Through Garden History. Basel Switzerland: Birkhäuser: Publishers of Architecture, 2007. Oxford University Press, 2015. Oxford Dictionary: Language Matters http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/narrative http://www.oxforddictionaries.com/definition/english/presence (accessed on 3/ 10/15). Parissien, Stephen, ed., essays by Keith Bell, Jeremy Gould, Steven Parissien, Martin Postle and Duncan Robinson. Stanley Spencer and the English Garden. Compton Verney, England: in association with Paul Holbertson Publishing, 2011. Pasco, Bruce. Dark Emu Black Seed: Agriculture or Accident? Western Australia: Magabala Books Aboriginal Corporation, 2014. Radford, Ron, Jane Hylton. Australian Colonial Art: 1800–1900. Edited by Daniel Thomas. Adelaide: Art Gallery Board of South Australia, 1995.   152   Richardson, Tim. The Arcadian Friends, Inventing the English Landscape Garden, London: Bantam House, The Random House Group, 2007. Robinson, Duncan. Stanley Spencer, Phaidon Press, Oxford, 1990. Shorter Oxford English Dictionary: 5th ed. / (editors, William R. Trumble, Angus Stevenson), 2002. Smith, Bernard. European Vision and the South Pacific, Second Edition, Sydney: Harper and Row Publishers, 1984. Strong, Roy. The Artist and the Garden, New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2000, 251. Wang, Joseph. The Chinese Garden, (Hong Kong: Oxford University Press, 1998), 17. Wilson, Gavin. Picturing the Great Divide, Blue Mountains: Blue Mountains Cultural Centre, 2012. Additional Reading Allan, Mea. William Robinson: 1838–1935, Father of the English Flower Garden. London, Great Britain: Faber and Faber, 1982. Broadbent, James (Researched by Joy Hughes & James Broadbent). Elisabeth Farm Parramatta: A History and a Guide. Glebe, Sydney: Historic Houses Trust of New South Wales, (Revised Edition), 1995. Clark, Kenneth. Landscapes into Art, Westerham Press, John Murray. London, First Published 1949, New Edition, Kenneth Clark, 1976. Collis, Maurice, Stanley Spencer: A Biography. London: Harvill Press, 1962. Eddison, Sydney, Gardening for a Lifetime: How to Garden Wiser as You Grow Older, (Timber Press, 2011), 14. Evans, Mark. Stephen Calloway, Susan Owens. The Making of a Master: John Constable, V & A Publishing, South Kensington, London, 2014. Freer, Albert. John Nash: ‘The Delighted Eye,’ Scolar Press, England, 1993. Farrelly, Elisabeth. Blubberland: The Dangers of Happiness. Sydney: University of New South Wales Press, 2007. Fussel, G.E. Landscape Painting and the Agricultural Revolution, The Pindar Press, London, 1984. Gayford, Martin. A bigger Message: Conversations with David Hockney.   153   New York: Thames & Hudson, 2011. Harding, Lesley and Morgan Kendrah. Sunday’s Garden: Growing Heide, Carlton, Melbourne: The Miegunyah Press, An Imprint of Melbourne University Press, 2012. Heathcote, Richard. Anna Jug. Stanley Spencer: A Twentieth-Century British Master, Wakefield Press, South Australia, 2016. Holms, Caroline. Monet at Giverny. Suffolk, United Kingdom: Garden Art Press, 2001. Johns, Elisabeth; Sayers, Andrew; Mankin Kornhauser, Elisabeth with Ellis, Amy. New Worlds From Old: 19TH Century Australian & American Landscapes. Canberra: National Gallery of Australia, 1998. Johnstone, Christopher. The Painted Garden in New Zealand Art. Auckland: Godwit: Randon House, 2008. Jones, Phillip. Ochre and Rust: Artifacts and Encounters on Australian Frontiers. Kent Town, South Sustralia: Wakefield Press (revised edition), 2008. Karskens, Grace. The Colony: A History of Early Sydney. (Second Edition), Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2010. Klepac, Lou (selected and edited). William Robinson: Painting 1987-2000. Sydney: The Beagle Press, 2001. Mathews, Mary Gedo. Monet and his Muse: Camille Monet in the Artist’s Life. Chicago, London: University of Chicago Press, 2010. Nordhaus, Hannah. The Bee Keeper’s Lament: How One Man and Half a Million Honey Bees Helped Feed the World. New York, London: Harper Perennial, 2011. Owen Reeder, Stephanie. The Vision Splendid. Canberra, ACT: The National Library of Australia, 2011. Phipps, Jennifer. Artists’ Gardens: Flowers and Gardens in Australian Art 1780’s – 1980’s, Sydney: Bay Books, 1986. Pullin, Ruth (editor). Eugene von Guerard: Nature revealed. Melbourne: National Gallery of Victoria, 2011. Redwood, Ark. The Art of Mindful Gardening: Sowing the Seeds of Meditation. Sydney: Leaping Hair Press, Crows Nest, Sydney: Allen & Unwin, 2011. 
work_bab4prx5ezfcpmg36tzfwk4u3y	----	Book Reviews Christian faith and took the name of Petrus Alfonsi. His Disciplina clericalis was widely known throughout medieval Europe in Latin and in translations, and consists of proverbs, poetry, fables, anecdotes, and tales of men's fates. A translation by Eberhard Hermes into German appeared in 1970 and Mr. P. R. Quarrie has now prepared an English version ofthe original Latin text, with reference to Hermes' work. He has also translated Hermes' lengthy introduction (pp. 3-99), which describes 'The author and his times', and also the position of Jews in medieval Spanish society. Of interest to historians of medicine and science is the part dealing with medieval attitudes to scientific investigations, and there are also a number of references in the text to medicine, which supplement our limited knowledge of it in this period. In view of this and of its wide influence Dr. Quarrie's excellent and scholarly translation should be carefully studied by all those concerned with medieval medicine and science. ARTEMIDORUS, The interpretation of dreams. Oneirocritica, with translation and commentary by Robert J. White, Park Ridge, N. J., Noyes Press, 1975, 8vo, pp. ix, 259, $15.00. Written in the second century A.D. by a professional dream-interpreter, this book appears here in English for the first time. There is a lengthy introduction to the five constituent books, each with lengthy commentaries. Literally hundreds of dreams are related and interpreted, and no doubt the psycho- analyst will find all these data of overwhelming interest. Its value to the less romantic is not so obvious, and the statement on the dustjacket that interest in dreams and their meaning "is one of the hallmarks of the intellectual life of this century" can hardly be taken seriously. However, as far as classical studies are concerned, it is important to have an accurate and scholarly translation of a well-known author's writings on a theme of interest and concern to the Ancient World. Thus, the great significance of the dream in the Classical and pre-Classical era makes this a note- worthy contribution, and it opens up a new area for the non-Greek reader. On these grounds it can be warmly recommended. PETER SHARRATT (editor), French Renaissance studies, 1540-70. Humanism and the encyclopedia, Edinburgh University Press, 1976, 8vo, pp. ix, 976, £8.00. In this collection there are fourteen essays, three in French, on highly specialized topics, all presented at a conference in Edinburgh in 1974. Each is a scholarly produc- tion and together they illustrate a variety of approaches and attitudes to the central theme of the meeting, which was French Renaissance education, 1540 to 1570. Historians of medicine and science will be particularly interested in the papers by M. A. Screech on 'Medicine and literature: aspects of Rabelais and Montaigne (with a glance at the law)' and by W. P. D. Wightman on 'Cosmological and technological trends in the French Renaissance'. Others on meteorology and French poetry, the scientific poetry of Guy Lef6vre de la Boderie, and on the teaching of mathematics in France, 1540 to 1570, will also be found useful, as will be the remainder, to those studying Renaissance medicine or science. These are concerned mainly with the liberal arts, but also with the encyclopedia, ethics, and law. 209 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300032373 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300032373 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_bhf3bet62navnof4byp2bgprua	----	None 
work_bkvb5di3bfeefocjrxoxnf5ftq	----	Mareel-2018-Renaissance_Studies.pdf Urban space and the literary exploration of self – A rhetorician makes a mental tour through his city Samuel Mareel Between 14 May 1561 and the beginning of the following year, Eduard de Dene, a poet and legal clerk from the Flemish city of Bruges, copied out 465 folios of his own poems and songs in what he called his Testament Rhetoricael [‘Rhetorical Testament’ or ‘Testament in verse’]. Probably because it was so extensive, the collection was never printed. The autograph did, however, come down to us and constitutes one of the generically most varied and aesthetically most attractive collections of sixteenth-century Dutch poetry and song known today.1 Of particular value in the Testament Rhetoricael are not only its diversity and lit- erary quality but also its outspoken autobiographical nature. The major part of De Dene’s poetical compositions conforms in both form and content to the lit- erary conventions of the art of the rhetoricians. The collection contains refreinen [refrains], ballades, songs, rondeaux, and chronograms that praise the Virgin Mary, Charles V, the Holy Sacrament, fellow rhetoricians, and the art of rheto- ric; they also abuse the French, heretics, liars, and the haughty, and mock misers and henpecked husbands. What sets De Dene’s manuscript apart from most other Dutch lyrical collections from the period, however, is the integra- tion of the poems and songs in a kind of meta-narrative. This framework evokes the author’s persona drawing up his last will and testament. Most of his bequests are literary compositions of his own making. The majority of the bene- ficiaries can be situated in mid-sixteenth-century Bruges, the time and place in which De Dene lived, worked, and wrote. Because of the wealth of information it provides in its testamentary framework, the Testament Rhetoricael constitutes a unique testimonial to the biography, ideas, opinions, and social world of a middle-class author in a mid-sixteenth-century urban environment. 1 Eduard de Dene, Testament rhetoricael, ed. Werner Waterschoot and Dirk Coigneau, 3 vols. (Ghent: Konin- klijke Soevereine Hoofdkamer van Retorica ‘De Fonteine’, 1976–1980) [Jaarboek ‘De Fonteine’, 26, 28, and 30 (1976–1980)]. Unfortunately De Dene’s verse is not (yet) available in English translation. Readers with some knowledge of Dutch can consult a generous selection of poems and songs from the Testament rhetoricael, with translation in modern Dutch, in Gerrit Komrij, De Nederlandse po€ezie van de 12de tot en met de 16de eeuw in 1000 en enige bladzijden (Amsterdam: Bert Bakker, 1994), 908–57. On De Dene and his Testament rhetoricael, see also the essay by Alisa van de Haar elsewhere in this issue. VC 2018 The Society for Renaissance Studies and John Wiley & Sons Ltd Renaissance Studies Vol. 32 No. 1 DOI: 10.1111/rest.12377 A second remarkable feature of the Testament is the fact that De Dene’s repre- sentation of self is prominently linked to that of Bruges’ urban space. The author’s autobiographical utterances are generally part of an evocation of buildings and locations. When he says something about himself he tends to do this as part of a description of a place or a building. This is most obvious in the first half of the Testament, in which De Dene’s persona evokes a number of Bruges churches, monasteries, and official buildings. While doing so he bequeaths poems and, to a lesser extent, objects, both concrete and imaginary, and abstract intentions. These are addressed to a large and diverse array of ben- eficiaries that are in some way related to these institutions. At the church of Our Lady, for example, he bequeaths a Lof [Praise] to the Holy Sacrament to the chapel of the guild of the Holy Sacrament,2 and a refereyn on Mary Magda- lene, Saint Catherine, and Saint Barbara to the altar of the chamber of rhetoric of De Drie Santinnen [The Three Female Saints], which was located in the same chapel.3 The clerk of De Drie Santinnen, who is responsible for the maintenance of the chapel, receives another refrain on the same subject.4 For the impover- ished ‘Ian drooghkele’ [John with the dry throat], a ‘groot mout docteur’ [great doctor in the science of the malts], De Dene wishes that he may possess a room, a kitchen, a bar, a happy wife, and a job in a brewery. As we learn from the same poem ‘Ian drooghkele’ was a drinking buddy of the author but also a valuable artist who plays the organ of the church when he is not in prison.5 While making his bequests the poet reminisces about his personal relationship to these places and buildings and to the people he used to know there. At the Bruges church of the Holy Cross, for example, he tells us that he once lived in that parish, and at the city hall that he was married there.6 The converging force between self and space in the Testament Rhetoricael is memory. It is unclear if and to what extent De Dene was actually familiar with classical writings on the ars memorativa.7 Places do have a strongly mnemonic function in his text; they remind the author’s persona of people and events from his past and trigger him to say something about himself. The medium in which these things are expressed is the literary text, the literary character in this case consisting of the use of verse and, frequently, of fiction. This essay analyses Eduard de Dene’s Testament Rhetoricael and the ways it brings together three domains of knowledge that were the object of increasing interest and study during the sixteenth century – of the individual self, of urban space, and of memory. It does this from the vantage point of what Elisabeth Hodges called ‘urban poetics’, and defined as ‘the way the city functioned in 2 Ibid., I, 101. 3 Ibid., I, 103. 4 Ibid., I, 105. 5 Ibid., I, 107. 6 Ibid., II, 205, 171. 7 Frances A. Yates, The Art of Memory (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966); Mary Carruthers, The Book of Memory (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990). Urban space and the literary exploration of self 107 early modern texts as [. . .] a means by which authors expressed the self as a phe- nomenon related to location’.8 Hodges’s study of ‘urban poetics’ builds on the work of Tom Conley, most notably his The Self-Made Map: Cartographic Writing in Early Modern France, in which Conley analysed how developments in cartogra- phy during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries brought about an increased identification between self and space.9 An analysis of the ‘urban poetics’ of De Dene’s Testament Rhetoricael can, as I hope to show, considerably advance our understanding of how the relationship between self and space was experienced and expressed in an early modern urban context. More generally, it can help us to read early modern literary texts as explorations of urban spatiality. The reason for this lies not only in De Dene’s text being a little-known literary work but also in the extent to and detail in which it explores the link between the auctorial self and urban space. Its 465 folios contain such an amount of material that the collection could serve as the basis for both a topographical description of sixteenth-century Bruges and a modest biography of Eduard de Dene. In the pages that follow I look at De Dene’s Testament through the lens of three early modern phenomena that can, I believe, give us a better insight into both the ‘urban poetics’ of De Dene’s Tes- tament Rhetoricael and, on a more theoretical level, the literary exploration of the relationship between knowledge of the early modern self and of early mod- ern space: the genre of the literary testament, the emergence of cartography in an urban context, and the increasing use of literary texts in urban space for memorial purposes. THE LITERARY TESTAMENT As both the structuring principle and the author’s own denomination indi- cate,10 De Dene considered his collection as a literary testament. This genre dates back to antiquity and was widely practised during the Middle Ages and the early modern period, both in Latin and in the vernacular.11 Literary testa- ments could vary widely in form, content, and tone. What mainly holds this 8 Elisabeth Hodges, Urban Poetics in the French Renaissance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2008), 2–3. 9 Tom Conley, The Self-Made Map: Cartographic Writing in Early Modern France (Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1996). On the link between identity and early modern urban space, see also the research that has been done on Italy, especially Venice and Florence, in, for example, Dennis Romano, ‘Gender and the Urban Geography of Renaissance Venice’, Journal of Social History, 23 (1989), 339–53, and Lauro Martines, Strong Words: Writing and Social Strain in the Italian Renaissance (Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins University Press, 2003). 10 See, for example, De Dene, Testament, I, 32: ‘Myn Rhetoricael testamentken cleene’ [My modest rhetori- cal testament]. 11 On the genre of the literary testament, see, for example, Winthrop Huntington Rice, The European Ances- try of Villon’s Satirical Testaments (New York: The Corporate Press, 1941); Vladimir R. Rossman, Francois Villon: Les Concepts Medievaux Du Testament (Paris: Jean-Pierre Delarge, 1976); Ulrich Bach, Kommentierte Bibliographie englischer literarischer Testamente vom 14. bis zum 20. Jahrhundert (Heidelberg: C. Winter Universit€atsverlag, 1982); Julia Boffey, ‘Lydgate, Henryson, and the Literary Testament’, Modern Language Quarterly, 53 (1992), 41–56; and Jacqueline Cerquiglini-Toulet, L’"ecriture testamentaire #a la fin du Moyen Age: Identit"e, dispersion, trace (Oxford: Legenda, 1999). 108 Samuel Mareel heterogeneous group of writings together is some form of playing around with the conventions of the legal will and testament. Literary testaments could thus invoke the disposition of goods by a testator, such as in the late antique (prob- ably fourth century) Testamentum Porcelli [Little Pig’s Will],12 or the making of a final confession, such as in the Testament of John Lydgate.13 They could call up the act of taking leave, for example, in the cong"es of the thirteenth-century jongleur Jean Bodel,14 or the giving of advice to the surviving next of kin, such as in the Uutersten Wille [Last Will] (1563), which the Piemontese businessman Lowys Porquin, who was based in the small town of Bergen op Zoom in North Brabant, addressed to his children.15 Some of the more interesting – and often longer and more complex – literary testaments combine several of these characteristics. The most famous and influ- ential examples are François Villon’s Le Lais (c. 1456), and especially his Grand Testament (1461), a 20001 line virtuoso parody on the genres of both the legal and the literary testament.16 Although De Dene does not mention Villon as such, it seems, as Dirk Coigneau has convincingly argued, that the Lais and/or the Grand Testament have functioned as models for the Testament Rhetoricael.17 About a decade younger than the Testament Rhetoricael is the ‘Wyll and Testament’ (1573) by the English female poet Isabella Whitney.18 Any direct links between the Whitney and De Dene texts are highly unlikely. Yet, because of its comparable Villonesque mix-up of conventions and its obvious urban set- ting, in this case the city of London, the ‘Wyll and Testament’ provides interest- ing points of comparison to situate the Bruges text within a broader European context. The borrowing of the conventions of the legal will and testament in literary texts often brought about a focus on the individual self. Jacqueline Cerquiglini- Toulet pointed out the link between an emergence of the individual in the Mid- dle Ages and a renaissance of the testament. ‘Dans le domaine du droit’, she argues, ‘le testament est un champ d’affirmation de l’individu; en litt"erature, il est le lieu de construction d’une fiction de soi’ [In the legal domain, the testa- ment constitutes a field for the affirmation of the individual; in literature, it is a domain for the construction of a fiction of oneself].19 The late medieval and early modern association of the testament with the individual self resulted both from its being the medium through which the 12 Edward Champlin, ‘The Testament of the Piglet’, Phoenix, 41 (1987), 174–83. 13 Boffey, ‘Lydgate’. 14 Huntington Rice, European Ancestry, 158–63. 15 Myriam Greilsammer, Een pand voor het paradijs: Leven en zelfbeeld van Lowys Porquin, Pi€emontees zakenman in de zestiende-eeuwse Nederlanden (Tielt: Lannoo, 1989). 16 François Villon, Po"e sies, ed. Jean Dufournet (Paris: Gallimard, 1973). 17 Dirk Coigneau, ‘Een Brugse Villon of Rabelais?: Eduard de Dene en zijn Testament Rhetoricael’, in Bart Ramakers (ed.), Conformisten en rebellen: Rederijkerscultuur in de Nederlanden (1400–1650) (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2003), 198–211. 18 Isabella Whitney, ‘Wyll and Testament’, in Renaissance Women Poets, ed. Danielle Clarke (London: Penguin Books, 2000), 18–28. 19 Cerquiglini-Toulet, L’"ecriture testamentaire, 5. Urban space and the literary exploration of self 109 individual disposed of his/her personal belongings and from the fact that the making of the last will was often combined with a final confession. This second characteristic brought about that wills increasingly contained passages of moral introspection.20 Both aspects are clearly present in De Dene’s Testament. At the outset of the collection, for example, the poet evokes how, waking up hungry and broke one morning, he stumbles upon a note which he had previously written: ‘memorare novissima [tua]’ [be mindful of your last end].21 This bibli- cal quotation (Ecclesiasticus 7:40), often used in ars moriendi writings of the time, makes him reflect upon his numerous friends who have passed away and upon his own end. As a result he decides to draw up his testament, in which he will remember his deceased friends and bequeath all of his goods. As Cerquiglini-Toulet indicated, the individual self-evoked in the literary tes- tament was often a fiction, ‘un ph"enomène de structure’ [a structural phenom- enon], as she called it.22 Like the genre as a whole, the testator was, to a certain extent, the result of literary convention, of fictionalisation, more a persona then an actual person. For example, a common characteristic in numerous lit- erary testaments is that of the testator actually being too poor to bequeath any- thing. In the Grand Testament François Villon famously presents himself as a ‘povre petit escollier’ (1886);23 in her ‘Wyll and Testament’ Isabella Whitney points to her being ‘whole in body, and in minde,/but very weake in Purse’ (2).24 Likewise, De Dene’s persona states from the outset that ‘ken hebbe niet om gheuen huut kiste of schryne van ghelde of ander testamentelicke iuwee- len’ [I have no money or other testamentary jewellery in a chest or safe that I could give].25 As a result of their impecuniosity the authors decide to make immaterial or mock bequests instead. In the Lais, Villon leaves rather futile things, such as ‘Mes brayes’ [my trousers] (101), ‘plain pot de Saine’ [water from the Seine] (228) and his ‘chassiz tissus d’arigniee’ [bed frame made of cobweb] (234).26 Whitney bequeaths things she does not actually possess: existing streets and buildings to the city of London, plasters to the surgeons (101–2), and her friends’ intention to buy books from her printer (197–200);27 De Dene leaves the tail of a fox and three brooms to the Bruges Augustinians, so they can sweep their library, and a series of books in the ‘filosofollie’ [‘philosofolly’] with non- sensical titles to the fool of the local archer’s guild.28 The overall majority of his 20 Huntington Rice, European Ancestry, 15; Boffey, ‘Lydgate’, 45. 21 De Dene, Testament, I, 42. 22 Cerquiglini-Toulet, L’ecriture testamentaire, 6–7. 23 Villon, Po"e sies, 152. 24 Clarke, Renaissance Women Poets, 19. 25 De Dene, Testament, II, 7. 26 Villon, Po"e sies, 43, 48, 49. 27 Clarke, Renaissance Women Poets, 22, 25. 28 De Dene, Testament, I, 58, 231. The bequest of books with nonsensical titles has been interpreted as a ref- erence to the Librairie de St. Victor in Chapter 7 of François Rabelais’s Pantagruel. Dirk Geirnaert, ‘Imitating Rabelais in 16th Century Flanders: The Case of Eduard de Dene’, in Paul Smith [ed.], "E diter et traduire Rabelais #a travers les âges [Amsterdam: Rodopi, 1997], 73–91. 110 Samuel Mareel bequests, however, are his own poems and songs: ‘maer van Rhetorica conste al wast my Pine elck tzyne//By desen testamente zou deelen’ [but examples of the art of rhetoric, even if I find it difficult, through this testament I will share].29 Villon scholars have often justly warned against too autobiographical a read- ing of his Testament.30 Adrian Armstrong called Villon’s testator ‘an unstable persona, who adopts a series of roles rather than a consistent stance’.31 We do, however, have to be careful not to let our understanding of a genre as a whole be dominated by the characteristics of its most famous example. As for the majority of authors from the time, biographical details about Eduard de Dene are scarce. Extra-literary sources about him do largely seem to conform to his persona in the Testament Rhetoricael, however. Most of the fellow rhetoricians he mentioned can be identified; his activities as a rhetorician and as a legal clerk are confirmed by other sources. The Bruges city archives possess an extensive court sentence from 1548 in which, because of Eduard de Dene’s excessive drinking and gambling and the resulting neglect of his family, the full responsi- bility of the finances and possessions of the De Dene household is transferred to his wife. Three years earlier, as the archives also tell us, the author had already been briefly imprisoned for the same reasons.32 The existence of links between the Testament and historical sources should, of course, by no means imply that we can reduce a long and complex literary composition to a simple autobiographical utterance. It does suggest, however, that this literary testament is far more autobiographical then the two texts by Villon by which it was probably inspired. It also shows that by the middle of the sixteenth century, the genre of the literary testament had come to be able to function as a medium for genuine autobiographical writing. CARTOGRAPHY It was customary in medieval and early modern testaments to make donations to local religious and charitable institutions. In return, these entities would pray for the soul of the deceased.33 This type of bequest was also adopted in cer- tain literary testaments, such as those by François Villon, Isabella Whitney, and Eduard de Dene. The fact that convents, hospitals, churches, and schools were 29 De Dene, Testament, II, 7. 30 Jane H. M. Taylor, The Poetry of François Villon: Text and Context (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 33–57; Adrian Armstrong, ‘The Testament of François Villon’, in Simon Gaunt and Sarah Kay (eds.), The Cambridge Companion to Medieval French Literature (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2008), 65–76. 31 Armstrong, ‘The Testament’, 64. 32 Gilbert Degroote, ‘Eduard de Dene (1505–61578)’, Leuvensche bij dragen op het gebied van de Germaansche philologie en in ’t bij zonder van de Nederlandsche dialectkunde, 34 (1942), 126–41; Albert Schouteet, ‘De Brugse rederijker Eduard de Dene’, West-Vlaanderen, 12 (1963), 213–9. 33 Philippe Ariès, Het uur van onze dood: Duizend jaar sterven, begraven, rouwen en gedenken (Amsterdam: Elsevier, 1987), 190; Henk De Smaele, Onze-Lieve-Vrouwekerk te Brugge: Kunst en geschiedenis (Bruges: Jong Kris- ten Onthaal voor Toerisme, 1997), 118. Urban space and the literary exploration of self 111 based at a specific location introduced a locational aspect in the texts. Institu- tions often simply became synonymous with their location. Thus Villon, in the Grand Testament, wonders what he could give ‘#a l’Hôtel Dieu’ (1644–5),34 the hospital next to Notre-Dame on the Ile de la Cit"e. He leaves Mount Valerian, a pilgrim site outside of Paris, and a quarter of an indulgence he earned in Rome ‘au mont de Montmartre’ (1551–8),35 the famous hill in Paris where a female convent was based in Villon’s day. Isabella Whitney also seems to refer to this custom when she leaves ‘people [. . .] that out of tune doo talke’ to ‘Bedlam’ (225–6), or St. Mary Bethlehem, formerly a priory and in Whitney’s day already a hospital for the mentally ill then located near Bishopsgate in London.36 De Dene goes significantly further then both Villon and Whitney in making bequests to religious institutions. Of the 465 folios of his literary testament, 128 consist entirely of donations of this kind. He starts out with the four mendicant orders established in Bruges (Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustinians, and Car- melites), whom he wants to ‘zyn ghedachtich’ [remember].37 He then contin- ues with the eight parish churches that ‘dienen oock verschoont’ [also have to be endowed with something], since, as the author’s persona remarks, ‘diese wel doet/zal blyfuen niet ongheloont’ [he who does them good will not remain without reward].38 Then come a large number of smaller religious and charita- ble institutions, both inside and outside the city walls, such as Eekhout Abbey, the school of the Bruges Beghards, the Ten Wijngaerde B"eguinage, or the chapel of the boatsmen. Most of the bequests that are mentioned in the collec- tion can be related to these places in Bruges’ urban space. De Dene’s bequests to churches, monasteries, chapels, schools, or hospitals are not only greater in number than those of Villon or of Whitney, his presenta- tion of these religious and charitable institutions is also significantly more mate- rial and spatial in nature. When De Dene’s persona mentions one, he seems to be thinking primarily of an actual building rather than of a more general loca- tion, an abstract community, or an administrative entity – what we today would call a ‘legal personality’. This is apparent from, for example, the fact that the poet not only makes bequests to the institutions as a whole but also to parts of the buildings in which they are housed, such as a chapel, an altar, or a porch. At the monastery of the Carmelites, for example, he not only donates a Holy Vir- gin Lof to the Carmelite brothers but also a series of Holy Trinity refreinen to the chapel of the chamber of rhetoric De Heilige Geest [The Holy Ghost], of which he was a member.39 He also remembers people who were attached to or lived near a building. For the principal bell-ringer of Saint-Donatian, for example, De Dene wishes that he may be attributed an assistant bell-ringer for when he 34 Villon, Po"e sies, 138. 35 Ibid., 134. 36 Clarke, Renaissance Women Poets, 294. 37 De Dene, Testament, I, 55. 38 Ibid., I, 90. 39 Ibid., I, 74–5, 75–85. 112 Samuel Mareel has been drinking. Nietken ‘de naeysterghe’ [the seamstress], ‘by sint donaes wuenende in een cleen wynckelken’ [who lived near Saint-Donatian in a small shop] receives ‘diueersch moy duerbroddelt naeysel’ [diverse kinds of nicely messed-up needlework].40 The outspokenly material and spatial presentation of monasteries and churches in the Testament Rhetoricael is also apparent from the fact that the order in which buildings are mentioned seems to have been determined pri- marily by their spatial proximity to one another. This cannot only be observed in the evocation of the institutions themselves but also in that of buildings that were located in their vicinity. While speaking of the church of Our Lady, for example, the poet’s persona also mentions nearby Saint John’s hospital, as well as Eekhout Abbey.41 The principle of vicinity is essential to the autobiographical nature of the Tes- tament Rhetoricael. It is also a characteristic that sets the collection apart from Vil- lon’s Lais and Grand Testament. As we have seen above, individual places to which bequests are made trigger loose memories and opinions in the mind of De Dene’s persona. It is in the mental wandering along these places, however, that the autobiographical narrative takes shape. Specific individuals, groups, events, opinions, or character traits of the author are referred to in connection to distinct places, which allows the reader to make connections and distil the autobiographical narrative. The author’s life is presented not chronologically, as in most modern writings about the self, but chorographically, on the basis of how aspects of the author’s self can be linked to a specific circuit of places. His Testament thus reveals a sense of space and a capacity to imagine and evoke space that Villon, an earlier practitioner of the genre of the literary testament, either did not have or did not think interesting or relevant enough to express in his writings. In the French poet’s Lais and Grand Testament, the few spaces that are mentioned remain loose dots, while the autobiographical nature of De Dene’s Testament lies precisely in the connections between the dots. It is tempting to link De Dene’s chorographical self-writing to the genre of the urban chorography, or textual description of cities.42 Like the Testament Rhetoricael, urban chorographies link people and events from a city’s past to spaces and places from its present. The possibility cannot be excluded that De Dene might have been familiar with early vernacular examples of the urban chorography, such as La Fleur des antiquitez (1532) and Les Antiquitez, chroniques, et singularitez de Paris by Gilles Corrozet (1550).43 However, most urban chorog- raphies and the earliest descriptions of this kind of cities in the Low Countries, 40 Ibid., I, 90–1. 41 Ibid., I, 108. 42 On the genre of the chorography, see, for example, Richard Helgerson, Forms of Nationhood: The Elizabe- than Writing of England (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994); Eddy Verbaan, De woonplaats van de faam: Grondslagen van de stadsbeschrijving in de zeventiende-eeuwse Republiek (Hilversum: Verloren, 2011); and Raingard Esser, The Politics of Memory: The Writing of Partition in the Seventeenth-Century Low Countries (Leiden: Brill, 2012). 43 Cynthia Skenazi, Le poète architecte en France: Constructions d’un imaginaire monarchique (Paris: Champion, 2003), 117–43. Urban space and the literary exploration of self 113 such as Lodovico Guicciardini’s Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi (first Italian edi- tion: 1567; first translation into Dutch: 1612) and Jan Orlers’ Beschrijvinge der stad Leyden (1614), are younger than the Testament.44 A second possible source of inspiration for De Dene’s chorographic self- writing comprises religious processions and joyous entries of princes. These parades followed specific routes through the city, linking important places for the cities’ past or present, or symbolically demarcating a specific zone.45 As in the Testament, their movement through urban space can thus be read as an expression of identity. De Dene was actively involved in the organisation of pro- cessions and joyous entries. In his Testament he included several texts, mostly songs, written for performance during the city’s yearly procession of the Holy Blood.46 In 1549 he and the painter Pieter Pourbus conceived the decorations organised by the Franc of Bruges for the Joyous Entry into the city of Charles V and his son, the future Philip II.47 Religious processions and especially princely entries into cities were com- monly recorded in writing, both in chronicles and in separate booklets.48 In 1515, for example, the Bruges rhetorician Jan de Scheerere, a friend of De Dene who is commemorated in his Testament,49 composed a detailed evocation in verse of the joyous entry of Charles V into the city in that same year.50 These descriptions of processions and joyous entries are among the earliest written evocations of a movement through urban space. The significance of the differences and correspondences between proces- sions and princely entries on the one hand and De Dene’s chorographic auto- biography on the other can perhaps best be understood through Michel de Certeau’s exceptionally rich and stimulating theoretical reflection on the meaning of space in ‘Pratiques d’espace’, the third part of his L’invention du quotidien. 1. arts de faire.51 De Certeau opens his essay with an evocation of the view on Manhattan from the 110th floor of the (former) World Trade Center 44 Lodovico Guicciardini, Descrittione di tutti i Paesi Bassi (Antwerp: Willem Silvius, 1567); Jan Orlers, Beschrij- vinge der stad Leyden (Leiden: H. Haestens, J. Orlers ende J. Maire, 1614). Some chronicles from before 1562 do contain chorographic passages, however, such as the chronicle of Zeeland by Jan Reygersberch (Antwerp: vid. Heyndrick Peetersen van Middelburch, 1551). 45 Elodie Lecuppre-Desjardin, La ville des c"e r"e monies: Essai sur la communication politique dans les anciens Pays- Bas bourguignons (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004). 46 De Dene, Testament, I, 117–20. 47 Katarina De Fruyt, Blijde intredes van vorsten in Brugge 1497 –1549 (MA thesis, Ghent University, 1998), 129–31; Luc Devliegher, ‘De blijde intrede van prins Filips in 1549’, Handelingen van het genootschap voor geschie- denis te Brugge, 136 (1999), 124–5. 48 Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly, ‘The Early Modern Festival Book: Function and Form’, in J. R. Mulryne, Helen Watanabe-O’Kelly, and Margaret Shewring (eds.), Europa Triumphans: Court and Civic Festivals in Early Modern Europe, 2 vols. (Aldershot: MHRA, 2004), I, 3–17. 49 De Dene, Testament, II, 7–10. 50 [Jan de Scheerere,] De triumphe ghedaen te brugghe binnen Ter intreye van caerle (Antwerp: Adriaen van Ber- ghen, 1515). Modern edition in Samuel Mareel, ‘Jan de Scheereres Triumphe ghedaen te brugghe ter intreye van caerle: Teksteditie met inleiding en aantekeningen’, Jaarboek ‘De Fonteine’, 55 (2005), 79–143. 51 De Certeau, L’invention du quotidien, 137–91. 114 Samuel Mareel in New York City. Most of the essay consists of an analysis of the differences between the perception of the city from such a height and that of someone who finds himself on the actual streets below. The primary difference, accord- ing to De Certeau, lies in the act through which the city is experienced. In the first case it is through looking, more precisely through ‘l’oeil totalisant’ [the totalising eye] that takes in the entire cityscape;52 in the second it is through a more physical activity, namely walking. It is by walking through the city, through individual streets and along individual buildings – what De Certeau calls ‘une rh"etorique de la marche’53 [a rhetoric of walking] – that people ‘en bas’ [down below] give meaning to the city. The element of walking is essential to capture the difference between proces- sions and princely entries and their evocations in writing on the one hand and De Dene’s Testament on the other. Walking is central to the procession; it is what binds together both its participants and the places they pass by. Although, as we have seen, De Dene’s evocation of churches and monasteries is guided by spatial proximity, walking is entirely absent from his Testament. At several points in the text he emphatically evokes himself sitting in his bedroom, thinking and writing his testament.54 He does not experience the city like De Certeau’s twentieth-century Manhattan pedestrians or like his sixteenth-century contem- poraries participating in a procession or joyous entry; rather, he overlooks it through his ‘totalising’ mental eye. His Testament is primarily a report of a men- tal activity, while evocations in writing of processions or joyous entries are reports of physical activities. De Certeau explicitly relates the view from the 110th floor of the World Trade Center to medieval and Renaissance paintings half a millennium earlier that already offered a comparable perspective on cities. ‘The desire to see the city’, he writes, ‘preceded the means of satisfying it. Medieval or Renaissance painters represented the city as seen in a perspective that no eye had yet enjoyed’.55 This link between the totalising but immobile eye and late medieval and early modern city panoramas and cartography is highly relevant for De Dene’s Testament. From about the same time as when De Dene composed his collection, several visual works of art have come down to us that show a compa- rable ‘totalising eye’ on the city of Bruges. They are part of a larger explosion of cartographic interest in the Low Countries around the middle of the sixteenth century. An artificial panorama, dated about 1560 and attributed to the painter Pieter Claeissens the Elder, shows, from an elevated viewpoint, the seven most 52 Ibid., 141. 53 Ibid., 149. 54 De Dene, Testament, I, 48; cf. Ibid., II, 242, where he made a rat jump up when he moved about at his desk [‘My verRoerende deed ick een Ratte versprynghen’]. 55 ‘La volont"e de voir la ville a pr"ec"ed"e les moyens de la satisfaire. Les peintres m"edi"evales ou renaissantes figuraient la cit"e par un oeil qui pourtant n’avait encore jamais exist"e. De Certeau, L’invention du quotidien, 140. The English translation is borrowed from Simon During, The Cultural Studies Reader (London: Routledge, 1993), 157. Urban space and the literary exploration of self 115 important buildings in Bruges.56 From the 1540s and 1560s, three important maps of Bruges have come down to us: an anonymous one painted on canvas and dated shortly after 1546, one from the famous cartographer Jacob van Deventer from the 1560s, and a third one, dated 1562, by the Bruges painter and printmaker Marcus Gerards the Elder. The cityscape by Claeissens, the anonymously painted map, and the Gerards map were probably made to pro- mote the city of Bruges, which was being increasingly confronted with eco- nomic difficulties; the Van Deventer map is part of a systematic cartography of all the cities of the Netherlands that was commissioned by Philip II in 1559.57 The most significant link between these visual works of art and Eduard de Dene is the map of Marcus Gerards. This painter, engraver, and cartographer made his map by commission of the city administrators between the summers of 1561 and 1562, so during exactly the same period when Eduard de Dene wrote down his literary testament. Although De Dene does not refer explicitly to the map in his collection, it is certain that the two artists knew each other. In 1567, the Bruges printer Pieter de Clerck published De Warachtighe fabulen der dieren, a collection of animal fables by Eduard de Dene accompanying a series of copper engravings by the same Marcus Gerards.58 The two artists seem to have been closely acquainted. In 1577, almost ten years after Gerards had fled to England because of his Reformed sympathies, De Dene intervened on his behalf before the Bruges magistrate in a conflict over payment for work that Gerards had done in 1566 in the church of Our Lady.59 Over the last few decades a number of studies, notably by Tom Conley, have analysed the far-ranging influence of cartography on early modern literature. It seems highly likely that the Testament Rhetoricael has received what Conley, in The Self-Made Map, called a ‘cartographic impulse’.60 It is possible to actually fol- low the series of buildings and locations evoked in the Testament Rhetoricael on the map of Marcus Gerards. It is an attractive thought that the poet and the engraver might have been in touch with each other while working on their liter- ary testament and map, and that there has been some form of cross- fertilisation. The strongly material and spatial evocation of the Bruges churches and monasteries in the Testament could be explained by De Dene’s acquaint- ance with Gerards’ map of Bruges, which not only shows these buildings in 56 Eva Tahon, ‘117. Les sept merveilles de Bruges’, in Maximiliaan P.J. Martens (ed.), Bruges et la Renais- sance: De Memling #a Pourbus. Vol. II: Notices (Bruges: Stichting Kunstboek, 1998), 148. 57 Marc Ryckaert, ‘152. Plan de Bruges’, in Martens (ed.), Bruges et la Renaissance, 173–4; Eva Tahon, ‘154. Plan de Bruges’, in Martens (ed.), Bruges et la Renaissance, 175–6. Van Deventer already made an earlier series in 1545: http://bdh-rd.bne.es/viewer.vm?id50000015403 (accessed April 2016). 58 Dirk Geirnaert and Paul J. Smith, ‘The Sources of the Emblematic Fable Book De warachtighe fabulen der dieren (1567)’, in John Manning, Karel Porteman, and Marc van Vaeck (eds.), The Emblem Tradition and the Low Countries: Selected Papers of the Leuven International Emblem Conference, 18 –23 August 1996 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1999), 23–38. 59 Albert Schouteet, De zestiende-eeuwsche schilder en graveur Marcus Gerards (Bruges: Gidsenbond, 1941), 29–30, 63–4. 60 Conley, The Self-Made Map, 2. 116 Samuel Mareel their geographical relation to each other but, through their pictorial represen- tation, also in their materiality. However, the Gerards map might have shaped De Dene’s thinking on a more abstract level as well. Several scholars, such as Elizabeth Eisenstein, have argued that the development of cartography has stimulated the development of national identities during the early modern period.61 By being able to take in the whole of a country visually, people could identify more easily with the concrete stretch of land that corresponded to this abstract political entity. Eduard de Dene probably did not need a map of Bruges to feel attached to this city but it might have given his Bruges identity the kind of spatial, geographical component that is apparent from the Testament Rhetoricael, and it might have stimulated him to give his literary testament such a spatial and material aspect. URBAN SPACE, MEMORY, MONUMENT As we have seen above, the main link in the Testament Rhetoricael between place and self lies in the association by the author of contemporary places with events or people that were important to him in the past. This link is generally trig- gered by memory: seeing or mentioning a specific place reminds De Dene’s persona of people or events. The churches, chapels, and monasteries men- tioned thus constitute a material link between the author’s individual present and his individual past. They are what Michel de Certeau, in the essay on space already quoted above, called ‘lieux v"ecus’ [lived spaces] and further defined as ‘des pr"esences d’absences’ [presences of absences].62 The memory process that I have just evoked is essentially a personal and ran- dom one: different people will remember different things at different places. Had a contemporary of De Dene written a comparable literary testament in which he passed by the same Bruges churches, monasteries, chapels, schools, and hospitals, he would most probably have come up with a significantly dissim- ilar narrative. The association of current places with past people or events is not necessarily personal and random, however. It can also be brought about externally and intentionally. While mentally wandering from one place to another, De Dene’s persona bequeaths his poems and songs. In some cases he states explicitly that a text is to be posted in a specific location. Some of these are prayers to be read in a certain part of a church or chapel, or in the vicinity of a relic or an altar dedicated to a specific saint or to the Holy Sacrament. Other texts, however, have a less devotional but more outspoken commemorative function. For example, in his Testament De Dene included a series of epitaphs that he wrote for deceased friends and fellow rhetoricians, such as the playwright Cornelis 61 Elizabeth Eisenstein, The Printing Revolution in Early Modern Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 144. 62 De Certeau, L’invention du quotidien, 162. Urban space and the literary exploration of self 117 Everaert and the painter Lancelot Blondeel.63 At the end of the Testament the author also included two epitaphs for himself.64 Deictic references to an actual tomb and direct addresses to the reader suggest that at least some of De Dene’s epitaphs might have adorned actual places of burial.65 Tombs from early mod- ern Bruges with rhetoricians’ poems on them have also come down to us. The Saint-John’s hospital museum, for example, houses a commemorative plaque for the Bruges town councillor Pieter van Muelenbeke (died in 1480). It is engraved with a 23-verse Dutch poem, which includes an acrostic and a chrono- gram, two characteristics that are typical of rhetoricians’ poetry.66 Several of De Dene’s epitaphs contain an outspoken appeal to remember somebody at a specific location. For example, the author’s persona indicates that he bequeaths these poems to his deceased friends ‘vpdatmen hemlieden/ mach zyn ghedynckende’ [so that they may be commemorated].67 In the intro- ductions to the two epitaphs he wrote for himself he notes that he hopes his widow will have the longer epitaph of the two placed somewhere ‘Teender memorie’ [as a commemoration].68 ‘[W]aere dit te lanck of te groote cost’ [If this proves to be too expensive or the epitaph is too long], he also provides a shorter one and adds: ‘Doet tnaeruolghende naglen/An muer of post’ [have it nailed to a wall or a pole].69 In the epitaphs that De Dene wrote for posting in a public space, his Testa- ment Rhetoricael is not only a product of memory, it also reports on the active process of the creation of memory. De Dene wrote the epitaphs so that not just he might remember the deceased, but others too who pass by the objects to which these verses have been attached. These texts bear witness to a transition from individual living memory to a more artificial cultural memory. In Cultural Memory and Western Civilization Aleida Assmann defined cultural memory as a form of memory ‘that is underpinned by media – by material carriers such as memorials, monuments, museums, and archives’. It is a form of memory that is ‘reconstructed within a transgenerational framework, and on an institutional level, within a deliberate policy of remembering or forgetting’.70 These poems are such a kind of material carrier in which individual memory is transformed into a public memorial. De Dene’s epitaphs can be situated within a longstanding memorial tradition in Netherlandish rhetoricians’ culture. An important part of the religious prac- tices of the rhetoricians consisted in the organisation of commemorative 63 De Dene, Testament, II, 7–22. 64 Ibid., III, 219–20. 65 Samuel Mareel, ‘Inscription et Performance dans le Testament Rhetoricael d’Eduard de Dene (Bruges, 1562)’, Le Moyen Age, 122 (2016), 327–39. 66 Valentin Vermeersch, Grafmonumenten te Brugge voor 1578, 3 vols. (Bruges: Raaklijn, 1976), II, 287–9. 67 De Dene, Testament, II, 7. 68 Ibid., III, 219. 69 Ibid. 70 Aleida Assmann, Cultural Memory and Western Civilization (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2011), 6. 118 Samuel Mareel services for deceased members. Famous fifteenth- and early sixteenth-century rhetoricians, such as Anthonis de Roovere and Matthijs de Castelein, comme- morated deceased princes as well as fellow rhetoricians in their poems.71 From the middle of the sixteenth century onwards, however, this memorial tradition seems to have increasingly invaded urban public space. In the process, it also became more material and monumental. Inscriptions on the walls of public buildings were not new, of course. Traditions of inscriptions from antiquity spread throughout Christian Europe during the Middle Ages and enjoyed a renewed interest in the sixteenth century because of the influence of human- ism. This is almost uniquely a Latin tradition, however. In texts such as De Dene’s Testament Rhetoricael, we are witnessing the increased use of the vernacu- lar for inscriptional poetry in urban public space. The growing interest in poetry in urban space as a medium for the creation and reception of cultural memory is apparent not only from the increasing number of poems of this kind that seem to have been produced, but also from a renewed antiquarian interest in these kinds of texts. Many inscriptions were copied out in the chorographic descriptions of cities that became increasingly popular across Europe from the late sixteenth century onwards, such as the already mentioned Beschrijvinge der stad Leyden (1614) by the Leiden author, and later mayor, Jan Orlers, or John Stowe’s 1598 Survay of London. Most of the texts mentioned in these chorographies disappeared with the architectural structures that they adorned. Some of them did come down to us, however. In his Beschrijvinge der stad Leyden Jan Orlers included a long chronogram com- posed by his uncle Jan van Hout on the 1574 siege of Leiden. The text can still be seen on Leiden’s city hall today. CONCLUSION Few tourists visiting present-day Bruges venture beyond Saint-John’s Hospital and the Church of Our Lady just across the Katelijnestraat. Those who do con- tinue on this street, however, are rewarded by the discovery of the charming Bruges Academy of Fine Arts, a complex of buildings dating from the sixteenth to the nineteenth centuries. Centrally located in the Academy is the Bogarden- kapel. This small structure is a reminder of the original function of the institu- tion as a school for orphans and abandoned children run by the Bruges bogarden [beghards], a kind of male Beguine. Above the entry to the chapel is a stone slab with a chronogram that has been identified as having been 71 On the commemorative practices of the Dutch rhetoricians, see Samuel Mareel, ‘In the Book of Life: Manuscript, Memoria, and Community in Eduard de Dene’s Testament Rhetoricael (Bruges, 1562)’, The Sixteenth Century Journal, 43 (2012), 1013–35. On the creation of cultural memory by the rhetoricians, see also Arjan van Dixhoorn, ‘Monumentalizering van een festival: Het Antwerpse landjuweel van 1561 als historische gebeurtenis’, in Jeroen Vandommele and Ruud Ryckaert (eds.), Menich constich gheest: Het Antwerpse landjuweel van 1561 anders bekeken (Ghent: Koninklijke Soevereine Hoofdkamer van Retorica ‘De Fonteine’, 2014), 15–42 [Jaarboek ‘De Fonteine’, 53–4 (2011–2012)]. Urban space and the literary exploration of self 119 composed by Eduard de Dene to commemorate a lottery organised in 1549 to help finance the restoration of the buildings.72 It is a small miracle that the slab and its chronogram came down to us. De Dene did not include the poem in his Testament Rhetoricael, nor has it been found in any other written or printed source. Presumably he did not think it sufficiently accomplished or important. Moreover, the chapel on which it has been attached is significantly younger than the slab itself. It was built in 1676 on the location of the original chapel for which De Dene wrote his chronogram. Apparently the slab was conserved and reintegrated in the facade of the new building. That De Dene’s chronogram for the Bruges Beghards should have survived, however, as a textual object in its original location, is a fitting tribute to an author for whom – as I have tried to show in this essay – literature, identity, and location were so intimately intertwined. The slab functions as a sort of complement to Elisabeth Hodges’s notion of ‘urban poetics’ that stood at the outset of this essay. It can also be seen as its ulti- mate realisation. De Dene’s chronogram above the entry door of the chapel of the Bruges Academy of Fine Arts does not attest to ‘the way the city functioned in early modern texts as [. . .] a means by which authors expressed the self as a phenomenon related to location’, but rather to the way early modern texts functioned in the city as a means by which authors expressed the self as a phe- nomenon related to location. Rarely in the history of Dutch literature has the boundary between text and city been more porous. Museum Hof van Busleyden/Ghent University 72 Dirk Geirnaert, ‘Restauratie met rekenfout: Eduard de Denes chronogram voor de Bogardenschool’, Bie- korf, 111 (2011), 186–91. The text reads: ‘Met pennynghen, ghegadert ter loterie / Bij die vander boghaerde vry vpghestelt, / Was dit werck beghonnen, zoot elck anzie. / Leist de roode letteren: tjaer ghij telt.’ [With pennies, brought together during the lottery, that was organised by the beghards, this work has been initiated, as anyone can see. Read the red letters: you will count the year.] 120 Samuel Mareel 
work_bu2xxsntwrduxemtceqmz3vmsm	----	P R IF Y S G O L B A N G O R / B A N G O R U N IV E R S IT Y The Howards and the Tudors: Studies in Science and Heritage, ed. by Phillip Lindley (Donington, 2015) Thorstad, Audrey Antiquaries Journal DOI: 10.1017/S000358151700018X Published: 01/09/2017 Peer reviewed version Cyswllt i'r cyhoeddiad / Link to publication Dyfyniad o'r fersiwn a gyhoeddwyd / Citation for published version (APA): Thorstad, A. (2017). The Howards and the Tudors: Studies in Science and Heritage, ed. by Phillip Lindley (Donington, 2015). Antiquaries Journal, 97, 325-327. https://doi.org/10.1017/S000358151700018X Hawliau Cyffredinol / General rights Copyright and moral rights for the publications made accessible in the public portal are retained by the authors and/or other copyright owners and it is a condition of accessing publications that users recognise and abide by the legal requirements associated with these rights. • Users may download and print one copy of any publication from the public portal for the purpose of private study or research. • You may not further distribute the material or use it for any profit-making activity or commercial gain • You may freely distribute the URL identifying the publication in the public portal ? Take down policy If you believe that this document breaches copyright please contact us providing details, and we will remove access to the work immediately and investigate your claim. 06. Apr. 2021 https://doi.org/10.1017/S000358151700018X https://research.bangor.ac.uk/portal/en/researchoutputs/the-howards-and-the-tudors-studies-in-science-and-heritage-ed-by-phillip-lindley-donington-2015(fa322154-5ff4-46e6-96f5-ab9a2169af5f).html https://research.bangor.ac.uk/portal/en/researchoutputs/the-howards-and-the-tudors-studies-in-science-and-heritage-ed-by-phillip-lindley-donington-2015(fa322154-5ff4-46e6-96f5-ab9a2169af5f).html https://research.bangor.ac.uk/portal/en/researchoutputs/the-howards-and-the-tudors-studies-in-science-and-heritage-ed-by-phillip-lindley-donington-2015(fa322154-5ff4-46e6-96f5-ab9a2169af5f).html https://doi.org/10.1017/S000358151700018X The Howards and the Tudors: Studies in Science and Heritage. Edited by Phillip Lindley. Pp x + 118 + 19 figs. Shaun Tyas, Donington, 2015. ISBN 9781907730443. £14.95 (pbk). Anyone who has studied the Tudor period in any depth recognises the importance and prominence of the Howards, dukes of Norfolk and their immediate family. This volume gives an excellent presentation of not only the Howards relationship with the crown, but also within the wider community by exploring tomb-monuments. The material covered in this edited volume stems from a project that examined the ‘historical, archaeological and art-historical backgrounds of the monuments of Thomas Howard, the third of the Howard Dukes of Norfolk and his wife, and that of Henry Duke of Richmond and Somerset and his wife at Framlingham in Suffolk’ (p vii). The volume contains eight individual chapters as well as an introduction and a helpful index. The interdisciplinary as well as cross-disciplinary ambition of the project is clearly reflected within the volume with contributions from historians, archaeologists, art historians, and scientists. The first essay ‘The Tudors and the Howards’ gives an excellent historical overview of the Howard family’s relationship with the Tudor monarchs starting at the Battle of Bosworth in 1485. Steven Gunn and Kirsten Claiden- Yardley take the reader on a journey of treason, recovery, loyalty, executions, and yet more recoveries by the family. The essay makes clear the influence that members of the Howard family at the Tudor court, on the battlefield, and in East Anglia. The subsequent essays included in the volume take a variety of approaches and depth of analysis. The volume mainly focuses on the Howard family during the Tudor period; however, many of the essays offer ample historical background for a reader who is unfamiliar with the family’s history. This allows for a very well-rounded picture, especially of Thetford Priory, a site that features heavily by many of the essays. The second essay in the volume ‘Thetford Priory: Patronage, Burial, Buildings, Dissolution’ (pp 20-33) does just that. Jackie Hall discusses the priory from its foundation by Roger Bigod in 1103 or 1104 and the building’s successive use by the Howards throughout the Middle Ages and the Tudor period up until the Dissolution of the priory in 1540. As Gunn and Claiden-Yardley’s article helps the reader situate the Howard family in the wider historical context so too does Hall’s article for Thetford Priory. The third essay, again by Kirsten Claiden-Yardley, offers a general overview of Tudor noble funerals with a specific case study of the funeral of Thomas Howard, second duke of Norfolk argues that the funerals of the elite reflected both aristocratic values and the prevailing religious beliefs of the sixteenth century. By far the longest article in the volume is Phillip Lindley’s ‘Materiality, Movement and the Historical Moment’ (pp 43-75), which discusses the events of the mid-sixteenth century and their relationship to the tomb-monuments of the Howard family standing in the parish church of St Michael in Framlingham. Towards the end of the essay Lindley explores the antiquarian and later historians’ descriptions of these tomb- monuments in order to re-evaluate and bring in new evidence from 3D laser scan along with the analysis of some fragmented pieces housed with English Heritage and the British Museum. Many of the essays provide the reader with new and exciting finds related to the Howard monuments, for the reviewer, the most interesting is Kirsten Claiden-Yardley’s third contribution to the volume: ‘The 1546 Declaration Regarding the Arms at Thetford Priory’ (pp. 76-80), which offers a brief discussion of the 1546 declaration, but also includes a transcription of the declaration found in The National Archives SP 1/227, f. 128. The sixth article ‘The Missing Link? The Duke of Norfolk’s Travels and French Renaissance Tomb Sculpture’ by Rebecca Constabel explores the third duke of Norfolk’s trips to France. This helps place his tomb-monument in a wider European context and makes interesting connections of artistic and cultural influences that cross borders and kingdoms. The penultimate article of the volume written by the late George Fraser and Nishad Karim, both of the Space Research Centre at the University of Leicester discusses the scientific side of the project, giving a recap of the technology and mathematics behind the scans of the monuments hinting that collaborations of this type can be extremely fruitful. The final essay in the volume, ‘The Surrey Tomb at Framlingham: the Visual Resurrection of a Reputation’, examines the posthumously constructed tomb-monument of Henry Howard, earl of Surrey and his wife, Frances de Vere in the Church of St Michael in Framlingham. Each author brings a different component and approach to the data collected from the project giving the reader a view of the Howard family from a variety of angles. The colour images included in the volume are fantastic. They are beautifully printed and add a real sense of depth for the reader. The overall approach of the volume is extremely exciting. By examining a family’s influence, prestige, and importance through their monuments, it brings the analysis of material culture to the forefront of the study of familial history. On top of this, the added element of 3D scans and X-ray images has proven to be a productive endeavour. Although the focus of the volume, according to the introduction, was to focus on both the men and women of the Howard family, the volume falls short on discussing the importance on the monuments of the women of the family with mentions of them simply in passing. The prominent focus on the men only tells half the story, leaving some interesting questions on women’s memory and commemoration unanswered. Not all contributions provide ample references, something that a reader may find frustrating. It was clear why all the contributions should be featured in the volume, but some readers might find it difficult to understand the organisation of the contents as well as draw wider conclusions from the book. Despite some of the minor flaws within the volume, it offers a new insight in the Howard family during the Tudor period and discusses exciting possibilities to scholars who wish to work across a variety of disciplines in order to shed light on the past. The volume shows a fruitful marriage between history, heritage, and science. Audrey M. Thorstad 
work_c5xuxzm6vvgf3dejl42nl3hh3y	----	General Notes from nerve deafness. When the war broke out she was engaged playing the violin in Moscow. She could not get out of the country and had been all through the horrors of the Bolshevist Revolution, being only repatriated by the British Government last year. About a year ago she began to notice that she couldn't hear in general conversation, nor on the telephone. About the same time she was told she was playing out of tune, a thing she had never done before. When she got to this country, she found the inability to hear when she was out of tune was a fatal bar to her getting any engagement. She was sent to me for treatment with the Zund-Burguet Electrophonoide. When she came she could hear, on the right side, the voice at 10 feet and a whisper at i foot. On the left side she could hear the voice at 8 feet and a whisper at i inch. After a few treatments she could hear the conversational voice 23 feet with the back turned and a whisper at 2 feet and the sense of pitch came back so that she no longer played out of tune. These three cases are especially interesting as they show that the sense of pitch is something apart from the sense of hearing, as the first case was not deaf, the second had chronic otitis media and the third nerve deafness. GEORGE C. CATHCART. GENERAL NOTES T H E SEMON L E C T U R E . O N 12th July, in the Hall of the Royal Society of Medicine, The Semon Lecture for 1922 upon " T h e Development of Trans-Atlantic Rhino- Laryngology" was delivered by Professor H. S. Birkett, C.B., Dean of the Medical Faculty, M'Gill University, Montreal. Mr H. J. Waring, F.R.C.S., the Vice-Chancellor of the University of London, occupied the Chair, and introduced the lecturer to an audience which numbered about seventy persons. In his most interesting and instructive address, Dr Birkett sketched not only the rise and progress of laryngology in the Western Hemisphere, duly emphasising the part played by the pioneers and leaders in the specialty in the United States, while modestly ignoring his own share in placing the subject upon an assured and recognised basis, but he related also what had been done in Canada and the United States in developing the education of the student of medicine and the specialist in this important branch. The vote of thanks to the lecturer was moved and seconded in felicitous terms by Sir James Dundas-Grant, K.B.E., and Sir St Clair Thomson. * * * B R I T I S H M E D I C A L ASSOCIATION. At the Annual Meeting of the British Medical Association, which was held in Glasgow from the 25th to 29th July, the Sections of Otology and Laryngology attracted large attendances. We hope to give a short account of the Proceedings in our next number. 492 use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 https://www.cambridge.org/core General Notes T H E SCOTTISH SOCIETY OF OTOLOGY AND LARYNGOLOGY. In order to supplement the somewhat short programme provided by the Single Day Sessions of the Sections of Laryngology and Otology at the Annual Meeting of the British Medical Association in Glasgow, the Scottish Society of Otology and Laryngology decided to hold a Special Meeting on Friday, 28th July. The arrangements, which were placed in the hands of the Glasgow members, who acted also as hosts, left nothing to be desired, and Dr W. S. Syme and his colleagues are to be congratulated not only upon the success of the scientific meeting, but also upon the very excellent provision made for the social entertainment of their guests. On the evening of Thursday, 27th July, the members of the Society and the visitors from south of the Tweed and elsewhere enjoyed the hospitality of Dr and Mrs A. Brown Kelly, in their home at 26 Blythswood Square. On the following morning the Society met in the Ear and Throat Depart- ment of the Western Infirmary, where a number of interesting cases were shown by the President (Dr D. J. Connal), Drs A. Brown Kelly, W. S. Syme, John W. Leitch, and Dr W. C. Macartney. Prior to a discussion upon the same, Mr George Wilkinson, on the invitation of the President, demonstrated his model of the Cochlea and the Mechanism of the Sympathetic Resonance of Hearing, and a short paper was read by Dr Gavin Young upon " T h e Relations of the Optic and Vidian Nerves to the Sphenoidal Sinus.1' Amongst those who took part in the Meeting other than the ordinary members of the Society were Professor Holger Mygind (Copenhagen), and Dr H. H. Forbes (New York), Sir James Dundas-Grant, Sir William Milligan, Sir St Clair Thomson, Dr P. M'Bride, Dr Dan M'Kenzie, Mr W. G. Howarth, Mr Lionel Colledge, Mr F. J. Cleminson, Dr Andrew Wylie, and Mr F. F. Muecke ; Dr D. R. Paterson and Dr Jones (Cardiff), Mr A. J. Hutchison (Brighton), and Mr A. J. Wright (Bristol). In the afternoon, members of the Society and their guests, accompanied by their wives, proceeded by train to Callander and thence by coach to Loch Katrine, where an hour was spent on the lake which, " In all her length far winding lay, With promontory, creek and bay And islands that, empurpled bright Floated amid the livelier light." Tea was afterwards served at the Trossachs Hotel, where the interesting ceremony of electing Honorary Members took place, under conditions and in an environment which enhanced the Society's Scottish welcome to her most recent recruits. A. L. T. * * * Sir James Dundas-Grant, K.B.E., Sir William Milligan, Sir St Clair Thomson, Dr Dan M'Kenzie, and Professor Holger Mygind (Copenhagen) have been elected Honorary Members of the Scottish Society of Otology and Laryngology. * * * SOME IMPRESSIONS THAT R E M A I N , P A R I S , JULY 1922. On the left bank of the Seine, in the angle formed by the intersection of the Boulevards Saint Germain and Saint Michel, stands the Ecole de 493 use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 https://www.cambridge.org/core General Notes Medecine, one of a block of buildings which constitutes the School of Medicine of the University of Paris. Here, in the oldest part of the city, where through the centuries there had been gradually built up the Faculties of Theology, Arts, Science, and Medicine, the tenth International Otological Congress opened its sessions on the morning of Wednesday, 19th July. It was fitting that the modern exponents of two of the youngest branches of Medicine and Surgery should congregate in an environment so closely interwoven with the life and work of some of the greatest exponents of science and of the practice of physic in France, where Buffon and Cuvier, naturalists, Lavoisier, the chemist, Bichat and Broca, anatomists, Claude Bernard, the physiologist, Ambroise Pare, the surgeon, and Laennec, the physician, established their world-wide reputation. In the large amphitheatre attached to the School, M. Paul Strauss, the Minister of Health and the Rector of the University, extended to the members a cordial welcome to Paris, and after Professor Urban Pritchard, President of the Congress in London in 1909—whose presence on this occasion greatly gratified his confreres—had addressed the assembly, the scientific proceedings were commenced under the presidency of Professor Pierre Sebileau. A very full programme, containing between 120 and 130 papers and several rapports of more than ordinary interest, had been provided by the indefatigable Secretary, Dr A. Hautant and the Committee of Organisation. It was evident that the President would require to enforce his authority by strictly limiting the period assigned to each speaker, if the schedule was to be carried through " according to plan." All will agree that Professor Sebileau discharged this unenviable task without fear or favour. We listened with admiration to the persuasive insistence of the tinkling note of his improvised bell — a tumbler and pen—as he bent to his will the erring speaker. We admired—perhaps too with a shade of envy—the courteous terms and the readiness of speech with which he invited, from time to time, one of his distinguished confreres, representatives of other countries, to share temporarily with him the duties of the Presidential office. While appreciating his devotion to duty, which was shared by his secretariat, we sympathised with him, as hour after hour he conducted the business of the sessions in an atmosphere which was rarely conducive to mental alertness, while the ordinary "man in the street" was free to come and go as the spirit moved him and to recuperate himself in the sunny courtyard or in a neighbouring cafe. Notwithstanding the many attractions which Paris offers always to her visitors, and in spite of the brilliance of the summer days, the attendance at the various seances was well maintained. We are unable to chronicle any specially noteworthy scientific discovery. When the papers are published, however, and it becomes possible to study them at leisure, a better estimate will be arrived at as to the true value of the many contributions laid before the Congress. The tentative fusion of laryngology with the sister branch on this occasion, regarding the wisdom of which differences of opinion will certainly arise, produced a series of interesting rapports and a number of papers upon the "Treatment of Cancer of the Larynx." This furnished the Congress with what we might term its sole dramatic incident. It was provided by Dr Tapia of Madrid, the exponent of complete extirpation of 494 use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 https://www.cambridge.org/core General Notes the larynx, when he brought on to the platform a number of patients from whom the whole organ had been removed, and when each, in turn, addressed the audience in a few distinctly audible sentences by the aid of the artificial apparatus with which they had been supplied. He was followed by Sir St Clair Thomson, who, in a similar manner, demonstrated the success of laryngo-fissure in the person of a British admiral, one of whose vocal cords he had removed five and a half years previously. If we might venture to offer a criticism of the scientific programme of the Congress, we do so in no carping spirit, but rather with the object of safeguarding the success of future similar congresses. The large number of papers which had been accepted, on this occasion, tended to defeat one of the objects of such an international gathering, in that, from insufficient time, a full discussion both of the papers and of the rapports was of necessity rendered impossible. Many members would have liked to have expressed their views on more than one of the subjects submitted, had a fuller opportunity offered itself for them to do so. Might we suggest to future Committees of Organisation that certain regulations should be drawn up as a guide in the preparation of papers, indicating the lines which such might follow, and unless they conformed strictly to these they would not be accepted. The number of communications actually presented at the sessions should be definitely limited, the choice being made by ballot, while those which passed the Committee, but were unsuccessful in the ballot, would nevertheless appear in the volume of the Transactions of Congress. We must admit that while such a proposal presents difficulties, they should not be unsurmountable. Further, the attendance of an interpreter to analyse briefly each paper when read would materially assist those taking part in the discussions. Social entertainment, both official and private, was provided on a generous scale, and we are grateful to our French hosts and hostesses for their delightful hospitality. Not only did the State, in the person of M. Strauss, recognise the meeting of Congress, but the Municipal Council of Paris joined in the welcome to the members and their wives at a reception held in the historic Hotel de Ville. Rebuilt in French Renaissance style after its destruction in 1871, it maintains its original form, but on larger and more ornamental lines, while the salons and galleries show some of the best examples of the tasteful decoration of modern French Art. On Wednesday evening we were the guests of the President and Madame Sebileau at a soiree musicale in the Hotel Majestic, which, not so very long ago, had been the scene of the work and the recreation of the members of the British delegation to the Peace Conference. It was whispered, indeed, that the concert room, which, on that evening, echoed sweetly to the classic melodies of Chopin and Saint-Saens, had reverberated each week to the din of the jazz band and to the merry-footing of the fox-trot and tango, when the hard-worked delegates and their staff sought distraction from their labours. At the banquet in the Hotel Continental, on Thursday evening, the French members of Congress proved ideal hosts in the entertainment of their confreres of the allied countries and their friends. With speech 495 use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 https://www.cambridge.org/core General Notes and dance, the festivities were prolonged into the small hours of the morning. On Sunday, 23rd July, the official programme had arranged for an excursion to Verdun, the epic of France's greatest heroism and sacrifice. To some of us, however, the battlefields of the Somme made a strong appeal, so leaving Paris by the Rapide on Saturday evening we journeyed to Amiens. Under lowering clouds and through mist and rain, a fit setting for a landscape which had so recently been the scene of the horrors of war, we motored throughout Sunday by villages and woods, whose names had become as familiar to us as household words. In the days to come, when the vivid impressions of Paris during Congress week, full of life and movement under a brilliant July sun, have faded from our minds, the picture, beneath a leaden sky, of the shell-pitted fields of Picardy, and the desolation of areas of rolling country, now happily showing signs of renewed vitality ; the fragments of scarred and stunted trees raising a few leafless branches to the void ; the tragedy of the villages of France and the countless rows of little wooden crosses, marking the last resting-place of many a known and unknown British soldier will long remain a haunting memory. A. L. T. At the meeting of the Otological Congress in Paris, Dr Luc's numerous friends were delighted to see him restored to health and again in active work. As usual, his linguistic talents were much appreciated during the Congress. * * * E L E V E N T H INTERNATIONAL OTOLOGICAL CONGRESS. At the recent meeting in Paris, it was unanimously agreed that the next International Meeting of the Congress of Otology should be held in Copenhagen in 1925, under the Presidency of Professor Schmiegelow. It was left to the decision of the profession in Denmark to settle the most convenient time of the year, and the Danish Organising Committee were given the option of postponing the meeting of Congress if they thought fit. It was arranged that Laryngology should be included in the next Congress. * * * Mr Donald Watson, M.B. Edin., F.R.C.S. Eng., formerly Clinical Assistant and Clinical Tutor in the Ear and Throat Department, Royal Infirmary, Edinburgh, has been appointed Honorary Aural Surgeon to the Eye, Ear, and Throat Infirmary, Bradford. 496 use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 https://www.cambridge.org/core CENTRAL LONDON THROAT AND EAR HOSPITAL GRAY'S INN ROAD (Near King's Cross Stations) LARGE OUT-PATIENT CLINICS. OVER 12,000 NEW PATIENTS LAST YEAR. 50,000 ATTENDANCES. IN-PATIENT DEPARTMENT, 43 BEDS. 887 PATIENTS ADMITTED. T H E DAILY OUT-PATIENT CLINIC—Monday, Wednesday, Thursday, Friday, Saturday, 2 r.M. Tuesday, 5 P.M. T H E MINOR OPERATIONS—Daily, 9 A.M., except Saturday. THE IN-PATIENT DEPARTMENT. MAJOR OPERATIONS—Daily at 2 o'clock, except Saturday. LECTURES AND DEMONSTRATIONS—Tuesdays and Fridays, at 4 P.M. CLINICAL A S S I S T A N T S Are appointed from among those gentlemen who have enrolled themselves for attendance on the practice of the Hospital. FEES F o r a t t e n d a n c e on t h e p r a c t i c e of t h e H o s p i t a l — T h r e e m o n t h s . . . 5 g u i n e a s P e r p e t u a l t ic ket . . . 1 0 g u i n e a s Six m o n t h s . . . . 8 g u i n e a s O p e r a t i v e S u r g e r y C l a s s . 5 g u i n e a s Further particulars on application to HAROLD KISCH, F.R.C.S., RICHARD KERSHAW, Dean. Secretary Superintendent. SURGICAL INSTRUMENTS IN FIRTH'S STAINLESS AND RUSTLESS STEEL Illustrated List of the Instruments we wake in the above Metal will be sent on application «T. G A R D N E R & SON Surgical Instrument Manufacturers to Edinburgh Royal Infirmary, etc. 32 FORREST ROAD, EDINBURGH: Works: CANDLEMAKER ROW, EDINBURGH Telegrams: "FORCEPS, EDINBURGH." Telephone: No. 747 use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 https://www.cambridge.org/core CHIRON HOUSE 59-61 New Cavendish St. London, W.I Chiron Examination Lamp (ReSd.) The Chiron Lamp has been a p p r o v e d by m a n y l e a d i n g Specialists, and we have no hesitation in recommending it as superior to any lamp yet produced. The Burner of the ^-Watt type, of special design, gives a brilliant illumination of about 200 candle- power. Tonsil Paste Applicator Devised by IRWIN MOORE, M.B., CM. (Edin.). Surgeon to the Throat Hospital, Golden Square Vide " The Treatment of Enlarged or Diseased Tonsils in Cases where Surgical Procedures are Contra-indicated" (Journal of Laryngologyr October 1919). Printed and Pnblisbed for tbe Proprietors by Oliver and Boyd, Tweeddale Court, Edinburgh use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0022215100023707 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_c6xsu7wnr5cmnhwxwly7ybauke	----	Publications of the Modern Language Association of America EDITED BY PERCY WALDRON LONG VOLUME LXII PUBLISHED QUARTERLY BY THE ASSOCIATION PRINTED BY THE GEORGE BANTA PUBLISHING COMPANY MENASHA, WISCONSIN 1947 EDITORIAL COMMITTEE Don Cameron Allen , 1951 The Johns Hopkins University Albert C. Baugh , 1951 University of Pennsylvania Walter Blair , 1950 University of Chicago J. H. Boneante , 1950 Princeton University Louis I. Bredvold , 1948 University of Michigan Samuel C. Chew , 1949 Bryn Manor College William L. Fichter , 1949 Brown University Orie W. Long , 1951 Williams College Henri M. Peyre , 1953 Yale University Alexander H. Schutz , 1952 Ohio State University Otto Springer , 1952 University of Pennsylvania Rene Wellek , 1951 Yale University CONTENTS I. Old English Riddle No. 57. By Erika von Erhardt -Siebold 1 II. Impersonal haber in Old Spanish. By William T. Starr .... 9 III. The Fleurs de toutes vertus and Christine de Pisan’s L’Epttre d’Othea. By Curt F. Buhler ................................................................. 32 IV. Sur la genese de Pantagruel. By Marcel Franjon .............. 45 V. Spoken Letters in the Comedias of Alarcon, Tirso, and Lope. By T. Earle Hamilton ......................................................................... 62 VI. The Relation of Sherry’s Treatise of Schemes and Tropes to Wilson’s Arte of Rhetorique. By G. J. Engelhardt .............................. 76 VII. Sir Philip Sidney’s Letter to the Camerarii. By A. Philip Mc Mahon ................................................................................................ 83 VIII. Bacon and Guicciardini. By Vincent Luciani ................... 96 IX. The Comic Humours: A New Interpretation. By Henry L. Snuggs .......................................................................................................... 114 X. The Veracity of Spence’s Anecdotes. By Austin Wright . . . . 123 XI. Walker’s Influence on the Pronunciation of English. By Esther K. Sheldon .............................................................................. 130 XII. The Background and Development in English Criticism of the Theories of Generality and Particularity. By Scott Elledge . . 147 XIII. Helena: vom Mythos zur Person. By Oskar Seidlin ........ 183 XIV. Character-Types of Scott, Balzac, Dickens, Zola. By Jared Wenger .......................................... ............................................. 213 XV. The Shadow of the Glen and the Widow of Ephesus. By David H. Greene ................................................................................... 233 XVI. Uber das Verhaltnis von Sage und Literatur. By Ernst Alfred Philippson ................................................................................. 239 XVII. The Structure of the “Concrete Universal” in Literature. By W. K. Wimsatt , Jr ........................................................................... 262 XVIII. Sovereignty in Chretien’s Yvain. By Alfred Adler . ... 281 XIX. New Light on Oriental Sources for Wolfram’s Parzival and other Grail Romances. By Helen Adolf ............................................ 306 XX. Arabe sZ>Esp. j-Esp. si > Arabe ch. By Amado Alonso . ... 325 XXI. Symphonic Imagery in Richard II. By Richard D. Altick ....................................................................................................... 339 XXII. The Position of Thomas Dekker in Jacobean Prison Literature. By Phillip Shaw ................................................................ 366 XXIII. Horace’s Influence on Shakespeare’s Antony and Cleo- patra. By Perry D. Westbrook .......................................................... 392 XXIV. Neo-Classical Criticism of the Ode for Music. By Robert M. Myers ................................................................................................. 399 XXV. Chateaubriand—Critic of the French Renaissance. By Carlos Lynes , Jr ................................................................................... 422 XXVI. Faust und die Natur. By Ernst Jockers ......................... 436 XXVII. Samuel Rogers: Man of Taste. By Donald Weeks . ... 472 XXVIII. Keats and Hazlitt: A Record of Personal Relation- ship and Critical Estimate. By Clarence D. Thorpe . ..'................ 487 XXIX. The Dramatic Monologue. By Ina Beth Sessions ........ 503 XXX. The Significance of the Dog in Flaubert’s Education Senti- mentale. By Marianne Bonwit ............................................................ 517 XXXI. Broch’s Death of Vergil: Program Notes. By Hermann J. Weigand ................................................................................................... 525 Comment and Criticism : 1. “Pushed” or “Painted”? {Inferno, ix, 1). 2. Une Bibliographic supplementaire des dictionnaires du franfais moderne. 3. Note on the Correspondence of Camus. 4. Camus de Belley: Addendum. 5. The Influence of Ibsen on Joyce: Addendum................................................................................................. 555 Meeting of the Executive Council............................................................. 581 XXXII. The Vocabulary of the Old English Poems oh Judgment Day. By Robert J. Menner ................................................................ 583 XXXIII. Chaucer’s Use of the Teseida. By Robert A. Pratt . . 598 XXXIV. Belphoebe’s Misdeeming of Timias. By Allan H. Gilbert ..................................................................................................... 622 XXXV. A History of Fairfax Criticism. By Charles C. Bell .. 644 XXXVI. Shakespeare’s Shrew and Greene’s Orlando. By Ray - mond A. Houk ......................................................................................... 657 XXXVII. The Lucretian “Return upon Ourselves” in Eighteenth Cehtury Theories of Tragedy. By Baxter Hathaway ..................... 672 XXXVIII. “A Severe Animadversion on Bossu.” By Loyd Douglas ................................................... 690 XXXIX. Faust und die Natur (Schlufi). By Ernst Jockers . ... 707 XL. The Imitation of the Ideal: Polemic of a Dying Classicism. By Helen T. Garrett .......................................................................... 735 XLI. Milton’s Influence on Wordsworth’s Early Sonnets. By John Bard Mc Nulty ............................................................................ 745 XLII. Manfred’s Remorse and Dramatic Tradition. By Bert - rand Evans .............................................................................................. 752 XLIII. Shelley’s On Life. By Frederick L. Jones ....................... 774 XLIV. Cooper and the Barbary Coast. By Harold H. Scudder 784 XLV. Caliban the Bestial Man. By John E. Hankins ................ 793 XLVI. Barres and Pascal. By Reino Virtanen ............................ 802 XLVII. The Tinker’s Wedding, a Revaluation. By David H. Greene ..................................................................................................... 824 XLVIII. Anti-Statism in German Literature. By Thomas A. Riley ......................................................................................................... 828 XLIX. The Quintessence of Idealism; or, The Slaves of Duty. By Arthur H. Nethercot .......... *............................................................. 844 L. Dogma und Dichtung des Mittelalters. By Samuel Singer . . 861 LI. Some Geographical Problems of the Oxford Roland. By Edwin B. Place ...................................................................................... 873 LII. Conall Core and the Corco Luigde. By Vernam Hull ........ 887 LIII. Chaucer’s Final -e in Rhyme. By James G. Southworth ... 910 LIV. Spenser’s Morrell and Thomalin. By Paul E. Mc Lane . ... 936 LV. Doctor Faustus and A Shrew. By Raymond A. Houk ............ 950 LVI. The Death Wish of. John Donne. By Donald Ramsay Roberts .................................................................................................... 958 LVII. Milton’s Attitude Towards Women in the History of Britain. By Edward S. Le Comte ........................................................ 977 LVIII. Henry Fielding and the Writers of Heroic Romance. By Arthur L. Cooke ................................................................................... 984 LIX. Edward Burney’s Illustrations to Evelina. By T. C. Duncan Eaves .............................................................. ......................................... 995 LX. Mary Wollstonecraft, Analytical Reviewer. By Ralph M. Wardle ......................... ;................................. ....................................... 1000 LXI. Hartley, Pistorius, and Coleridge. By Hoxie N. Fairchild 1010 LXII. Alastor: a Reinterpretation. By Evan K. Gibson ............. 1022 LXIII. The Meaning of Shelley’s “Mont Blanc.” By I. J. Rap - stein .......................................................................................................... 1046 LXIV. The Meaning of “Fellowship with Essence” in Endymion. By Newell F. Ford ............................................................................... 1061 >■ LXV. Poe and Mesmerism. By Sidney E. Lind ............................ 1077 LXVI. Browning’s Knowledge of Music. By Herbert E. Greene ..................................................................................................... 1095 LXVII. The Silent Foot in Pentameter Verse. By Frederick Bracher .................................................................................................... 1100 LXVIII. Les Debuts litteraires de Pierre Lasserre. By Selim Ezban ........................................................................................................ 1108 LXIX. Brockes Religion. By Hans M. Wolff .............................. 1124 LXX. Anglicisms in French—Notes on Their Chronology, Range, and Reception. By Stephen De Ullmann ............................ 1153 LXXI. On the Origin of the Grammarians’ Rules for the use of shall and will. By J. R. Hulbert .......................................................... 1178 Acts of the Executive Council............................................................... 1182 
work_cgr7t63hvrdepbrtoami5w3cgq	----	Untitled-1 © 1879 Nature Publishing Group NATURE [August q, 1879 and furniture. The building will be in the form of a double quadrangle, 510 feet fr om east to west, and 350 feet from north to so uth. The main buildings will be five storeys in height, and th ere will be cloisters 10 feet in width on two sides of each quadran<>le. The style is to be that known as French Renais- sance, will be carried out in Portland stone and red brick. The object and scope of the college have been the subject of great consideration, and Mr. Holloway has had the advice and assistance of a large number of perso ns interested in the education of women. The proposed constitution of the college, to be embodied in a trust-deed, will, among other things, set forth that its object is to a fford the best education suitable for women of the middle an d upper middle and it is intended to be mainly self- sup porting. The trustees are to be a corpora te body with per- petual succession, and to have all the usual powers ;and privi- leges. The governing body will consist of twenty-one persons, to :,e appointed partly by the University of London and partly by the Corporation of L ondon, and it is stipulated that a certain portion shall always be women. Religious opinions are not in any way to affect the qualification for a governor. It is the founder's desire that power by Act of Parliament, Royal Char- ter, or otherwise, should be eventually sought to enable the col- lege to confer degrees, after due examination, and that until such power is obtained the students shall qualify themselves to pass the women's examination of the London University, or any examination of a similar or higher character which may be open to women at any of the existing universities of the United King- dom. The curriculum shall not be restricted to subjects enjoined by any existing university; Instead of being regulated by the traditions and methods of former ages, the system of education should be mainly founded on studies and sciences which the ex- perience of modern times has shown to be most valuable and as best adapted for the intellectual and social requirements of stu- dents. The governors will, therefore, be empowered to provide instruction in any subject or branch of knowledge which shall appea r to them from time to time most suitable for the education of women ; and the curriculum of the college will not discourage students who may desire a liberal education apart from the Latin and Gre ek languages. Proficiency in class ics is not to enti tle students to rewards of merit over others equally proficient in other bra nches of knowledge. It is intended ;to provide twenty founder 's scholarships of the" value of 40l. each, tenable for not more th an two years in the college. No professor will be recF1ired to submit to any test concerning his or her religi ons opinion, and d enominational theology is not to be taught. The prin cipal of the college must be a lady, and duly qualified lady physicians and surgeons are to be resident in the college. Mr. Holloway has determined to personally superintend the erection of the building, and has agreed to provide an endowment fund of wo,ooo!., in addition to any fund that may be d erived from the sale of such portion of the Mount Lee estate as may not be reqni red for the purposes of the college. THE following is the list of candidates successful in the com- petition for the Whitworth Scholarships, 1879, in connection with the Science and Art Department :-John Hardisty, engi· neer; George Harrison, millwright; Edward Shaw, engineer app ren tice; J ohn A. Simpssn, engineer; John W. Geddes, mechanic; Sydney J. Harris, engine fitter; Thomas E. Sack- fiel d, mechanic; John A. Brodie, engineer apprentice. As the result of the final competition of scholars appointed in 1876, Mr. Henry S. H. Shaw has received the fin;t prize of zoo!., and Mr. J erdan Nichols the second of 10ol. TH E first Siberian university at Tomsk wiil be definitely opened for the term of 1879-80. The Czarewitch has signified his in tention of being present a t the inauguration. F RO M a rep ort which has been sent us of the awards made at the c·ondusion of the session of the Johns Hopkins Uni versity, we notice that out of twenty Fellows appointed for 187g-8o, t wcl vc were in physical and biological science, all of them from other colleges than the Johns Hopkins, one of them being from the University of T okio, Japan. The public spirit of the president and professors is shown in the fact th at th ey have suh;crib ed 500 dollars to be divided as . to two meri to rious students next year. In constderatwn of marked abili ty in the study of mathemil;tics exemplified during a, ye.ar's residence in Baltimore and pre vwusly, the trustees have lllVIted Miss Christine Ladd to continue her mathematical studies in this university, and have vo ted that she may receive an honorary stip end, equal to that bestowed upon tho se who are appointc;d to fell owships. The trustees promised their aid to a specified am ount fo r the en co uraa ement of a j ournal of philoloo-y to be published under the control of Prof. This wi!l be the fourth serial encouraged by the trustees-the others bemg the oj Math ematics, under Prof. Sylvester; the J'our1tal ,if Chemzstry, .under Prof. Remsen; the Biological P apers, under Prof. Martm. The Chesapeake Zoological Papers, edrted by Dr. Brooks, were published at the cost of a few liberal citize ns of Baltimore. Arrangements have been matured for the cont!nuance of the Chesapeake Zool?gical Labo ratory during the ensu mg year. The Ututed States F1sh Commission S. F. Baird, and the Maryland Fish Commission,' under Major T. B. Ferguson, co-operate in this laboratory with the Johns Hopkins University. SOCIETIES AND ACADEMIES PARIS Academy of Sciences, August 4.-M. Daubree in the chair. .-The following papers were read :-On the recent tornado in the United States, and on records of Buffon's and Spallanzani's observations of whirlwinds, by M. F aye.-Remarks by M . Berthelot on M. Wurtz's paper on hydrate of chloral.-Secreting and circulating effects produced by the faradisa tion of the nerves which traverse the tympanum, by M. A. Vulpian.-Supple- mentary note on the theory of the pulsations of the heart and arteries and their registration, by M. Boui!laud.-On the origin of hail, and on some whirlwinds in which the air was drawn up- wards, by M. Colladon.-On the theory of by M. Dechant.-Note on the rotation theory of heavenly by M. Mougeolle.-A number of communications relating to Phylloxe-ra vastatrix, by MM. Gayon and Millardet, G. Foex, A. Quercy, Borel, and H. Barthelemy, were read.-Obser- vations of the occultation of Antares on July 28 last, by C, Flammarion.-On the normal calorific spectrum of the sun, and of the incandescent platinum lamp (Bourbouze), by M. Mouton.- Some observations on M. Mouton's paper, by M.P. Thenard.-On the vibrations on the surface of liquids, by M. F. Lechat.- .On Amp ere's currents by M. Treve.-On magnets, by the same. -On the distillation of liquids under the influence of static elec- tricity, by M. D. Gernez.-On the employment of the diffusion method in the study of the phenomena of di ssociation, by M. L. , Tro ost.- On the action of pyrogallate of potass ium upon nitric oxid e, by M. G. Lechartier.-On solid hydrocyanic acid, by MM. Lescceur and A. Rigaut.-On synthetic methylpropyl- carbinol, by J. A. Le Bel.-On the non,existence of a soluble alcoholic ferment, by M. D. Cochin.-On the colouring matter of Palmdla cruenta, by Mr. T. L, Phipson.-On the vital pro- perties of ;cells and on the appearance of their nuclei a fter their death, by M. L. Ranvier.-On the lymphatics of the peri- chondrium, by Messrs . G. and Fr. E. Hoggan.-Note by M. L. Hugo, on a number representing the sphere among the ancients. CONTENTS PACE THE DrssD CIATION oF CHLORINE, By Prof, HENRY E. ARMSTRONG, F .R.S, • • . • • • • . • • • • • • • • • • . • • 357 SclRNCE IN THI!: AxGENTlNE REPUBLIC. By R. McLACHLAN, F.R.S. 358 MODERN M!tTIW RO LOGY . • • • • • • • • - 359 OuR BooK SHI!LP' :- Roland's " Farming for Pleasure and Profie•. • . • . , . • 360 LKTTI!RS TO THR EDITOR:- Theory and Laws of the Microphone .- Prof. }ULlAN OcliOROWICZ 36• "The Rights of an Animal."-GEORGE J· RDMA NEs , F.R.S, • • 362 A Suggestion on the Action of the Obhque Muscles of the Eye- ball.-EnwARD Bl!LLAMY {With Diap-am) . . • . 362 Natural History Notes from Burmah.-Prof. R. Ro>rANIS 362 Pigeons and Weather Warnings.-R. . • • . . • • • 363 Napoleon IIL and t he Nicaraguan CanaL -S, P. 0. 363 Vitality of the Common Snail.-J A>Il!S WARD 36 c; OuR AsTRONOMIC A l. CoLUMN: - Variable Stars . • , • • • • • 363 The Minor Planets • • • • • • 363 The Satellites Mi.,·.os and Hyperion 363 GEOGRAPHICAL NOTE - . 0 • • • • 364 NORDE.NSKJ 0 LD's ARcn c Ex PEDITION 365. Sm THOMAS MACLEAJ.", F,R.S. • • • • • • • • • • • • • 365 A POINT AFFECTING TH E DIFFUSION OP THE GASES OF THE SPHERE IN RELATION TO HEALTH, By S. TOLVER PRESTON - • 366 OBSERVATIONS ON TH E PHYS ICAL GEOt:R AP HY A ND GEOLOGY OF MADAGASCAR. By R ev. } A>I ES SmREE, Jun. (With Map) • , • 368 NOTRS •• 0 .. • • • • • • 0 • • • • • • • • • 0 • • ON SPnRNOPHVLJ.UM, AsTEROPHYLLITES, A ND CALAMI T ES. By Prof. W, c. WILLIAMSON, F,R, S, . • • .. • • • 0 • • 375 ANTHROPOLOGICAL INQUIRY IN Fn.ANCE • • • • " • • 376 VOLCANIC PHENOMENA AND EARTHQUAKES DVRING 1878 • 37.8 UNIVRltSITY AND EDUCATIONAL !NTELLIGENCB • 379 SOCIJI.TIRS: AND ACAiJEMIES • • • • • • • • • • • 380 SOCIETIES AND ACADEMIES 
work_c7wlyvoei5apzouddn5gvorqy4	----	Gender, Genre and Electroacoustic Soundmaking Practices Copyright © Canadian University Music Society / Société de musique des universités canadiennes, 2007 Ce document est protégé par la loi sur le droit d’auteur. L’utilisation des services d’Érudit (y compris la reproduction) est assujettie à sa politique d’utilisation que vous pouvez consulter en ligne. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ Cet article est diffusé et préservé par Érudit. Érudit est un consortium interuniversitaire sans but lucratif composé de l’Université de Montréal, l’Université Laval et l’Université du Québec à Montréal. Il a pour mission la promotion et la valorisation de la recherche. https://www.erudit.org/fr/ Document généré le 5 avr. 2021 21:07 Intersections Canadian Journal of Music Revue canadienne de musique Gender, Genre and Electroacoustic Soundmaking Practices Andra McCartney In and Out of the Sound Studio Volume 26, numéro 2, 2006 URI : https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1013224ar DOI : https://doi.org/10.7202/1013224ar Aller au sommaire du numéro Éditeur(s) Canadian University Music Society / Société de musique des universités canadiennes ISSN 1911-0146 (imprimé) 1918-512X (numérique) Découvrir la revue Citer cet article McCartney, A. (2006). Gender, Genre and Electroacoustic Soundmaking Practices. Intersections, 26(2), 20–48. https://doi.org/10.7202/1013224ar Résumé de l'article Cet article est une exploration des rapports sociaux de genre (« genrification ») dans les différents types et pratiques de création sonore électroacoustique, étudiant les procédés de « genrification » du niveau de langage utilisé dans les premières catégorisations dichotomiques entre la musique concrète et l’elektronische Musik,puis se penchant sur les arguments apparentés portent sur l’abstraction, le contexte et le contrôle compositionnel que l’on retrouve dans les écrits des créateurs électroacoustiques tels Pierre Schaeffer, Pierre Boulez, Daphne Oram, Pauline Oliveros et plusieurs participants du projet Dedans/Dehors du studio. L’analyse de leurs pratiques et de leurs idées suggère différentes manières de conceptualiser les genres de l’électroacoustique, leurs pratiques connexes et les rôles des créateurs sonores contemporains en électroacoustique (compositeurs, artistes, producteurs, sonorisateurs, auditoires...), en examinant les potentialités des concepts de connaissance compréhensive et de pensée écologique, termes proposés par l’épistémologiste féministe Lorraine Code. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/is/ https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1013224ar https://doi.org/10.7202/1013224ar https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/is/2006-v26-n2-is0378/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/is/ GENDER, GENRE AND ELECTROACOUSTIC SOUNDMAKING PRACTICES Andra McCartney M U S I Q U E C O N C R È T E V S . E L E K T R O N I S C H E M U S I K : A G E N D E R E D D I C H O T O M Y ? The concepts of musique concrète and elektronische Musik were created in op- position. Initially, composers at the first two electronic studios to open, the Studio d'Essai at Radiodiffusion-Télévision Française (RTF) in Paris, where the Groupe de recherche musicale (GRM) worked, and the electronic studio at Westdeutscher Rundfunk (WDR) in Cologne, were each antagonistic to the work of the other studio, describing it in derogatory terms. Pierre Schaeffer of RTF was skeptical about electronically-produced sound and defined the music he was making, musique concrète, as having direct contact with sonic material:1 Je me méfie des instruments nouveaux, ondes ou ondiolines, de ce que les allemands appellent pompeusement Felectronische Musik [sic]. Devant toute musique électrique j'ai la réaction de mon père violoniste, de ma mère chanteuse. Nous sommes des artisans. Mon Violon, ma voix, je les retrouve dans tout ce bazar en bois ... et dans mes trompes à vélos. Je cherche le contact direct avec la matière sonore, sans électrons interposés. (Schaeffer 1990, 26) Schaeffer sets up a dichotomy between his music and that of the German stu- dio in explicit terms. While his music is related to performance (my father the violinist, my mother the singer) through direct contact with known materials, he describes the other studio as only concerned with electrical waveforms, con- ceived as fundamentally different new instruments. By emphasizing personal relationships with his family, known sonic materials and existing instruments, he connects his ideas with stereotypically feminine concreteness, relationship, domesticity and subjectivity, and distances himself from stereotypically mascu- line abstraction, artificiality and objectivity. How accurate was Schaeffer's definition of the other studio? Initially, the WDR studio did want to sever connections with a known sound world. They 1 I mistrust new instruments, waves or waveforms, what the Germans pompously call elektron- ische Musik. Before all electrical music I respond like my father the violinist, and my mother the singer. We are artisans. My violin, my voice, I meet them again in this bazaar of wood ... and in my truck horns. I seek direct contact with sonic materials, without electrons interposed. [All translations are the author's.] 26/2 (2006) 21 used the serial technique2 of composition employing simple sine tones pro- duced by oscillators rather than recorded sounds to make elektronische Musik: In electronic serial music... everything to the last element of the single note is subjected to serial permutation ... Today, the physical magnification of a sound is known...as exact scientific data ... Talk of 'humanized* electronic sound may be left to unimaginative instrument makers. (Eimert and Stock- hausen 1958,8) This definition of elektronische Musik by Herbert Eimert, one of the origin- al practitioners, does not explicitly set up an opposition with the Paris studio. However, he implies another camp by talking about "humanized" electronic sound which is "unimaginative," and associated with the craft work of instru- ment making. Also, Eimert makes the strategic move of associating elektronis- che Musik with scientific knowledge, the ability to know the physical magnifica- tion of sound as exact data, or objective knowledge, a stereotypically masculine domain. A G E N E R A T I V E D I S T I N C T I O N ? This artificial distinction between the two studios disappeared within a few years. Although his first pieces kept sound sources recognizable, Schaeffer soon began to manipulate the envelopes of sounds in the studio so that their sources became unidentifiable. Composers at the WDR studio began to use acoustic as well as electronic sources, and extended compositional technique beyond seri- alism. Nevertheless, conceptualisations of musique concrète as fundamentally different from, and inferior to electronic music, continued to structure the way the field of electroacoustic music developed. One example can be found in how particular pieces are discussed. In his description of why Stockhauserïs Gesang der Junglinge is not musique concrète, musicologist Robin Maconie responds particularly to Schaeffer's use of the personal pronoun: Soon after Gesang der Junglinge had acquired a reputation it was put about that since the work incorporates a boys recorded voice it qualified as mu- sique concrète... one suspects that the label represents an attempt either to transfer some of the credit for Stockhausen's achievement or alternatively to reduce the work in public eyes to the level of a Parisian caprice ... it is positively misleading. The manner in which Stockhausen integrates vocal sound into the electronic fabric of the piece would never have been sanc- tioned by the school of Schaeffer ("mon violon, ma voix"), even if its mem- bers had been technically well enough informed to understand what he was doing. The qualities of intelligence and workmanship that made Schaeffer so keen to claim the work in retrospect as musique concrète, elevate Gesang to an altogether higher plane... the focus on the boys voice naturally draws A definition of serialism: "For [the European serialists of the early 1950s] serialism was a com- positional technique wherein every aspect of a composition—not only notes, but also loudness, timbre, duration, type of attack, and every other imaginable parameter of a sound—could be based on and de- rived from the same row, or series, thereby producing a kind of total structure wherein every detail was organized" (Chadabe 1997,37). 22 Intersections attention to the "message" content of the text, which ... tends to obscure awareness of the purely formal relationships of the electronic sounds. It did not inhibit audiences, nevertheless, from instinctively recognizing the potency and authority of Stockhausen's handling of the medium. (Maconie 1976,98-99; Maconie's italics) In his attempt to show how it is not musique concrète, Maconie distinguishes Stockhausen's work from that of Schaeffer and his colleagues, establishing a hier- archy. Maconie praises Stockhausens work as potent and authoritative, qualities associated with masculine mastery. He is also described as intelligent, establish- ing purely formal relationships, associating his work with the formal qualities of absolute music. The reference to a higher plane establishes a hierarchy of intel- lect. In contrast, composers like Schaeffer who work with musique concrète are portrayed as capricious and technically ill-informed, characteristics also used to create denigrating stereotypes of femininity. In order to distinguish Stock- hausen's work from that of Schaeffer, Maconie describes Stockhausen's work as exhibiting many attributes of objective knowledge: it has authority and potency, it is technically well-informed and intelligent. Its only flaw, in Maconie's view, is that it draws attention to the "message" content of the text, an aspect of the piece that refers to something beyond purely formal relationships. In contrast, Schaeffer s work is held to have no qualities of objectivity, while Maconie stress- es his subjectivity through repetition and emphasis on the personal pronoun. Maconie was not alone in his dismissal of Schaeffer's work. Pierre Boulez describes it in more graphic terms in a letter to John Cage: "I shall tell you that the experimental studio is more and more crap, and that Schaeffer is a pain in the arse; and that I hope I shall soon be working with Stockhausen at the elec- tronic music studio of Radio-Cologne" (Nattiez 1993, 145). He is clearly frus- trated with Schaeffer and his approach to music, and contrasts Schaeffer with Stockhausen. Elsewhere, Boulez describes an absence of direction of the sonic material in musique concrète as damaging to composition:3 On na pas pris garde à la question du matériel, pourtant primordiale dans une telle aventure; on y a supplée par une espèce de parade poétique, dans la ligne du collage surréaliste... Cet art poétique dénué de foi a vieilli, cette absence de dirigisme dans la détermination de la matière sonore entraîne fatalement une anarchie préjudiciable à la composition. (Schaeffer 1967, 13-14) Here, Boulez expresses his belief that "primordial" sound materials need to be controlled. His criticism could be construed as an invocation of what phil- osopher Genevieve Lloyd refers to as "the primary Pythagorean contrast be- tween form and formlessness" (1984, 3). Boulez criticizes musique concrète as anarchic, a poetic parade without leadership. He finds the musique concrète ap- proach to be inadequate, and fatally damaging to composition, which to him is 3 One did not consider the question of material, left primordial in such a venture; a poetic parade is substituted, a surrealist collage... This poetic art stripped of faith has become obsolete, this absence of control in determining the sonic material brings about an anarchy detrimental to composition. 26/2 (2006) 23 fundamentally concerned with formal control over materials. In its association with (primordial) formlessness and (anarchic) chaos, musique concrète, as de- scribed by Boulez, is thus aligned with the feminine in the original Pythagorean table of opposites that structure Western thought.4 Henri Pousseur relates how the process of criticizing SchaefFer's methods ac- tually clarifies Boulez's own approach to composition: In criticizing Schaeffer's methods, Boulez showed me exactly what he want- ed to do. He wanted to restructure the material so he could have complete control. He wanted to unify the germ, to unify the seed, to have everything grow from one idea, and to apply a very precise, a very structured type of elaboration. (Peyser 1976,74) While Boulez wanted to sever his connections with SchaefFer, it was thus through relational opposition with SchaefFer that Boulez defined his own com- positional aesthetic. Although Boulez emphasized individual control, Pousseur's story reveals how Boulez defined his ideas through interaction with another, what feminist epistemologist Lorraine Code calls second personhood. While traditional approaches to epistemology have focused on the ability of an in- dividual subject to know, Code draws on feminist theory to put forth the idea that knowledge is made through interaction with others, second persons (1991, 84). The ideas of Pierre Boulez became more powerful when he took the position of director of the electroacoustic research institute, IRCAM. Here, Boulez could assert his aesthetic ideas in a powerful institutional forum, shaping through his exclusions what could count as electroacoustic music. According to Georgina Born, antagonism to the work of Pierre SchaefFer and other composers at GRM, and to the approach of musique concrète, influenced Boulez's later conception of IRCAM, which became a leading centre of electroacoustic music both in France and internationally. IRCAM s approach has commonly been understood as involving a strong rejection or negation of GRM aesthetics and technology in line with Bou- lez's early critique, so that his antagonism toward the GRM has been seen as a prime motive for the emergent conception of IRCAM. Indeed... tech- niques and technologies associated with musique concrète—-tape recording, This strategy of decrying another's work as formless and without structure is used in other situations as well, for example by Karlheinz Stockhausen to differentiate his work from the experimental music of John Cage. Stockhausen says "Collage is gluing together and seeing what happens... In America the music that's most praised has done away with all musical subjects. Cage is the example of collage music where everything's just thrown in one pot and you see what happens" (Cott 1973,190-191). Here, Stockhausen states that this process of collage "has done away with all musical subjects," implying that musical subjects reside only within the conscious mind of the composer. His use of the phrase "every- thing's just thrown in one pot" denies any structure within the music of Cage. His alternative to collage is "metacollage": Metacollage and integration mean... really dealing with strong subjects and then trying to create balanced situations, (ibid. 192). In Stockhausens view, then, the composer must have the role of mediator, to order and balance the sounds. In his hierarchy, indeterminate elements are controlled by a structural form determined only by the composer. 24 Intersections analog electronics—were subject to an almost irrational neglect and indif- ference within IRCAM culture. (Born 1995,77) Boulez's hostility towards Schaeffer and his approach affected not only his own attitude and working practice, but also the conception and aesthetic orien- tation of a major electroacoustic institution under his control. As director of IRCAM, he clearly privileged scientific thinking in the production of objective knowledge: The creator's intuition alone is powerless to provide a comprehensive trans- lation of musical invention. It is thus necessary for him to collaborate with the scientific research worker in order to envision the distant future, to im- agine less personal, and thus broader, solutions ... The musician must as- similate a certain scientific knowledge, making it an integral part of his cre- ative imagination. (Boulez quoted in Born 1995,1; my emphasis) Boulez distinguishes the composer from the scientific researcher in (trad- itionally) gendered terms: the composer alone, without scientific knowledge, is intuitive, personal, powerless—all characteristics which are stereotypically associated with white Western women. Only an imagined collaboration with a scientific research worker allows less personal, broader solutions by looking toward the future. In order for the composer to give forward-thrusting power to his creative imagination, he must assimilate scientific knowledge. Boulez here wishes for a common language between scientists and musicians through an idealized integration of two highly-differentiated poles of intuition and scien- tific thinking, an equation in which control and science are clearly privileged. Schaeffer and Boulez articulated different approaches towards control, ab- straction and context, which affected their compositional aesthetics, and through their leadership of different electroacoustic institutions, also affected the kind of work that was possible in those institutions. These ideas continue to structure electroacoustic thought. I have argued elsewhere (McCartney 2000) that works which used recognizable recorded sounds in a form that acknowledged the ma- teriality of those sounds continued to be marginalised within electroacoustic discourse throughout the late decades of the twentieth century, while works that used highly processed, manipulated and abstracted sounds in a composer- defined form were favoured throughout this period. There were other approaches to control, abstraction and context being de- veloped during the 1950s and 1960s, although many of these approaches were muted since their authors received little attention. In order to understand the contributions of these muted authors, I want to introduce two concepts elab- orated by epistemologist Lorraine Code: empathetic knowledge and ecological thinking. Both of these ways of thinking emerge from Code's thesis that know- ledge is never made individually, but always in dialogue with others, second persons who inform and inflect how knowledge is produced. Code is critical of what she terms "spectator epistemologies," in which others are treated as objects, subject to manipulation, prediction and control (1995, 125). Unlike spectator epistemologies, empathy "resists closure, invites conver- sation, fosters and requires second-person relations. And empathy, moreover, is 26/2 (2006) 25 a self-reflexive skill. When it is well-developed, well practiced, it incorporates a capacity to assess its own aptness" (Code 1995, 126). Importantly, Code insists that empathy is not a natural characteristic of biological women. Rather, it is a skill, something that needs to be learned and practiced. Furthermore, and importantly for this essay, the concept of empathy originated in the ability to project oneself into an object of aesthetic contemplation, and its use in psych- iatry has derived from this aesthetic skill.5 Here we return to think of the skill of empathetic knowing in its aesthetic dimension as well as that of the social. Code's point of entry into ecological thinking is through the early work of biologist (and ecologist, in retrospect) Rachel Carson: Carson's investigations are both situated, and open: as ready to see what the world around her can reveal as to test her hunches and hypotheses against "reality". No formal methodology guides her inquiry, yet it is thoroughly methodical; nor has she the patience with the punctiform fact, the isolated epistemic moment; yet neither are her investigations and findings random or chaotic. (2005,93) Carson studied detailed inter-relationships among organisms in specific habitats, searching for patterns, her method "alert for the unexpected: it seeks coherence but does not force it when differences, anomalies, contest its smooth- ness" (Code 2005, 93-94; my emphasis). She produced focused case studies, integrating narrative and anecdote with observation and analysis in the field. She did not consider cataloguing sufficient for understanding, needing to ex- plore how these specificities work together. She understood that different sites required different methods, and adapted her thinking to the context. This is situated knowledge, in the way that Haraway (1991) uses that term. Knowledge is situated both by attempting to know the place of study as closely as possible, as well as to attempt to understand one's own epistemic position, its partialities and limitations, as clearly as one can, and to make that clear. I will argue that some composers who were contemporaries of Boulez, as well as many more recent soundmakers such as some in our study, are practitioners of empathetic knowledge and ecological thinking. However, their contributions have not received the attention that they deserve, in an environment which re- mains dominated by ideas based in technical control, abstraction, and mastery, and in which concepts such as empathetic knowledge and ecological thinking are not well understood. I turn now to two women composers of the same generation as Pierre Boulez, to analyze their attitudes towards compositional aesthetics. The ideas of Daphne Oram and Pauline Oliveros both contribute to creative thinking on context, ab- straction and compositional control. Oram's work has received little attention until quite recently, while the more widely known Oliveros has sometimes ap- peared isolated in electroacoustic texts. See Arnulf Zweig, "Theodor Lipps." In the Encyclopedia of Philosophy. New York: Macmillan 1967, Vol. 4, pp 485-6, as quoted in Code (1995:128). 26 Intersections D A P H N E O R A M Daphne Oram was born in 1925, the same year as Boulez. She began working at the BBC in 1943, where she was trained as a studio engineer, an opportun- ity available to women because of the war. In 1944, she began experiments in converting graphic information into sound, building her equipment out of old radio components. She tried at this time to convince the BBC to start an elec- tronic studio, but met with resistance. When electronic equipment first arrived, she moved pieces together each night from different locations to make a studio, disassembling them each morning. Finally, in 1957, the BBC agreed to begin the Radiophonie Workshop, under pressure from the drama (rather than the music) department. In 1958, Oram became one of the founding directors of the workshop, and in October was sent to Brussels for a conference where she came into contact with other experimental composers including Karlheinz Stockhau- sen. Oram left the BBC in order to set up an independent studio at her home in Kent. Here she returned to her experiments with converting graphic informa- tion into sound, creating a system she referred to as Oramics. The use often par- allel tracks of 35 mm. film allowed Oram to specify the characteristics of several sonic parameters simultaneously. She received several Gulbenkian grants to do this work. In the 1960s, Oram composed music for theatre, ballet, radio, television, and film.6 Dedicated to public education, she also produced many concerts in Lon- don and Edinburgh, where she discussed electronic music and played examples composed by herself and others. In 1971, she published a book about her work, intended like her concerts to be accessible to a wide audience. Oram entitled the book An Individual Note of Music, Sound and Electronics, beginning it with a quote from Michel de Montaigne. This French Renaissance writer is considered to be the originator of the personal essay, relying on human experience rather than abstract theory as a basis for writings. The introduction to Oram's book is full of disclaimers: that the book is not to be considered so- ber or academic, but is just one person's point of view. Despite her disclaimers, the book is very thought-provoking, written in an accessible and often evoca- tive style. Oram finds analogies to explain electronic processes in everyday lan- guage. One of these examples seems particularly poignant in light of Oram's experience at the BBC: Probably we have all, at some time, felt the frustration of finding ourselves talking on serious, intelligent matters to someone who has his mind ab- sorbed at that moment by insignificant trivialities. If we are sensitive, we can almost feel physically hurt by his inattentiveness... our own words seem to cruelly rebound and strike back at us. This is just a small illustration of unmatched impedances.7 (1971,118) 6 see Sophie Fuller, The Pandora Guide to Women Composers: Britian and the United States, 1629- Present, (London: Harper Collins, 1994), 234. 7 She defines impedance earlier in the book. "Electrical impedance is the opposition presented by a circuit to a flow of alternating current" (Oram 1972, 117). If the output impedance of one device 26/2 (2006) 27 Oram discusses the distortion and dissipation of electrical signals by making an analogy with attempted communication between people. In this case, the listener's inattentiveness leads to distortion of the speaker's message and emo- tional damage to the speaker, just as in an electrical circuit, unmatched imped- ances can lead to distortion of the signal and damage to the equipment. This allusion to serious thoughts being trivialized by the listener also suggests the intellectual isolation experienced by Oram. As well as explaining electronic processes, Oram discusses thinking and knowledge in terms of electronics, referring to what she calls c celetal." This is her neologism: "CELE (the reverse of ELEC)... reminds us of the Greek KELE meaning 'swelling* and, too, of the French verb CELER: 'to hide'—in this case, what lies hidden, and intangible, gradually emerges... it rises into being" (1971, 12). Oram claims that celetal thought brings art and science together in bal- ance, and uses the Taoist yin-yang symbol as an example of this. She rejects the word "control" as inadequate to describe what an electronic composer does with sound, saying that the word she searches for does not exist in the English language: I am hunting for some word which brings a hint of the skillful yachtsman in fierce mid-Atlantic, guiding and controlling his craft and yet being taken along with it, sensing the best way to manage his vessel, freely changing his mind as unforeseen circumstances evolve, yet always applying his greatest discipline to himself and his seamanship. (1971,13) Here, the emphasis is on self-control, working with natural forces, accepting chance circumstances interacting with personal action. This is not a conceptual dichotomy between composer's concept and sound material: in Oram's sailing analogy, the composer who creates a rigid distinction between his craft and the sound would drown as quickly as a sailor who did not listen to the wind. Oram later discusses the relationship of chance and determinacy through the analogy of taking a car trip down a familiar road, and noting how an experience of the trip changes according to the season, circumstances and time of day, but how similarities in the geography persist from year to year or day to day. The route may stay the same, but the attentive traveller will perceive differences every time. In each case, her thinking reflects interaction with the environment rather than control over it, attentiveness to the surrounding situation, and patience to wait for the intangible to reveal itself. She emphasizes attention to context and an ability to respond to environmental change, all characteristics of ecological thinking. Oram's book explores many concepts, processes and analogies, ideas that seem to have been developed in relative isolation, as the book title suggests. Although she is aware of the work of electroacoustic composers in Europe and North America (a wide variety of recordings is listed in the Appendix of her book), her biography by Sophie Fuller (1994) exposes her isolation within the is not matched with a similar input on another, the result is distortion, destruction or dissipation of the signal. 28 Intersections BBC, and her brief contact with other composers in 1958 at the Brussels confer- ence. Having worked in isolation, Oram then communicated her ideas through a concert series, the book, and in the 1980s through teaching at Christ Church College, Canterbury. Manning notes that Oramics "provides the composer with a specification facility unparalleled in all but the most sophisticated voltage- controlled systems" (1985,115); still, references to Oram's work are very sparse, and out of a wide range of electroacoustic textbooks that I reviewed (McCartney 2000), she was only mentioned in one. Since her death in 2003, some important work has been done to document her life and work,8 but the relative lack of at- tention given her work during her lifetime meant that her important ideas and skills were not disseminated as widely as they ought to have been. PAULINE OLIVEROS Born in 1932, Pauline Oliveros is just a few years younger than Oram and Stock- hausen. She began working with electronic improvisation in the fifties, and was a member of the San Francisco Tape Music Center from 1961, becoming its director in 1966. She was also director of the Center for Music Experiment at the University of California in San Diego, where she taught for fourteen years. In the 1970s, she became increasingly interested in Taoism, Buddhism, medita- tion and feminism. Her Sonic Meditations (1974), created from her experiences of performing with a group of women, are examples of work from this period that involves ritual and intense, meditative listening. In 1981, she moved to New York State and shortly thereafter set up the Oliveros Foundation, a non-profit arts organization. In 1988, she formed the Deep Listening band. This group has recorded performances in locations with interesting acoustics, such as the Fort Worden cistern, an abandoned water tank in Washington State with a 45- second reverberation, and Tarpaper Cave, an abandoned Catskill mountain ce- ment quarry in New York State. Much of her work involves people with varying musical backgrounds, and a blurring of distinctions between performers and audience. She is well known for giving concerts and presentations where she listens, and the audience performs.9 Ihe Deep Listening Chorus, directed by Oliveros, meets once a month and is open to anyone (Fuller 1994, 227-231). Her foundation has been known as the Deep Listening Institute since 2005. Oliveros's book, Software for People, was published in 1984 and contains writ- ings from 1963 to 1980. Three of the articles specifically address feminism, gen- der and music composition. "And Dont Call Them 'Lady Composers"' (1984, 47-51), is the only one which was published outside of this anthology. Oliveros notes, in a 1994 interview with Fred Maus, that the New York Times asked her in 1970 to write an article on any topic, so she surprised them with this. In this article, she discusses the lack of opportunities for women, the dismissal of work 8 See for instance Jo Hutton, 2003. "Daphne Oram, her life and work," Organised Sound 8(1). 49-56. A CD of her work has been compiled by Hugh Davies. 9 I took part in such a presentation at the Feminist Theory and Music conference, at University of California Riverside, 1995. 26/2 (2006) 29 of women composers, and music critics' emphasis on "great" composers (Oli- veros and Maus 1994,174-193). In "The Contributions of Women As Composers" Oliveros discusses two modes of creativity: active, analytical creativity resulting from cognitive thought, and receptive creativity in which the artist is a channel (1984, 132-137). Re- fusing the mainstream dichotomy which declares that (masculine) analytical thought and (feminine) intuition are separate and mutually exclusive, Oliveros includes quotes from Mozart and Beethoven which refer to both of these modes of creativity, and notes that scientists also use both modes. She points out that Western society values and develops the analytical mode, and that intuition is left to chance and remains undeveloped. She also notes the relationship of these modes to stereotyped genders. Oliveros then asks a number of questions about working methods of men and women composers, and what methods or condi- tions might be used to promote and train intuition. This essay was part of a grant application for research which Oliveros intended to base on the musical scores of student composers at the University of California. The research grant was denied. "Rags and Patches" is the most playful and the most extensive of the three articles (Oliveros 1984,112-129). It is an embroidered quilt of anecdotes, letters and fables, populated by Alice in Wonderland, Patchwork Girl, Ojo and Scraps in the Land of Oz. Oliveros asks "did you know there are over one hundred spe- cies of fish which change sex regularly? (Maybe even willfully)" Her allusion to the sex lives of fish, far from being irrelevant, indicates a desire to imagine possibilities beyond two fixed stereotyped genders, and the dualistic restrictions of hetero-normativity Her next question is "I wonder what an androgynous musical form would be?" (ibid., 112). At that time, she did not include an an- swer. But in 1994, she does. Fred Maus asks her if she has had any more thoughts about androgynous music since writing "Rags and Patches," and she responds: Well, I think it would certainly be in the deep structure of how the music is played and assembled. You can have music as linear process, and music as nonlinear process. And you can also have music that's both. (1994,185) Here, Oliveros seems to locate musical androgyny in the compositional de- velopment of processes that are not linear, a claim somewhat similar to Susan McClarys analysis of contemporary American music by Janika Vandervelde (1991). Oliveros also contests the dichotomy between music as penetration and lis- tening as passive reception, pointing out that "one can receive music but also actively penetrate it, not to mention all the other finer variations" (1984, 113). Again, in the 1994 interview she enlarges upon this, pointing out that focussed aural attention is very active. "Rags and Patches" also includes correspondence with people about Oliveros's role as a woman composer. She creates a model representing the integration of identity, role, duty and will, and how these be- come unbalanced in stereotyped gender roles. At the end of the article is a fable, with gender translation by Oliveros. The fable appears to be Native American in source because of the inclusion of the character Coyote, but no information is 30 Intersections given in the book as to where it originated. It was sent by Oliveros as a contri- bution to a women's art festival, in a section called "Letter to a Young Woman Artist": Dear Feminist Art Program: Your collective response and personal potential is welcome to a ragged trav- eller on a patchy road: Fox was the only living woman. There was no earth. The water was every- where. "What shall I do?" Fox asked herself. She began to sing in order to find out. "I would like to meet somebody," she sang to the sky. Then she met Coy- ote. "I thought I was going to meet someone," Fox said. "Where are you going?" Coyote asked. Tve been wandering all over trying to find someone. I was worried there for a while." "Well it's better for two people to go together... that's what they always say." "O.K. but what will we do?" "I dont know." "I got it! Let s try to make the world." "And how are we going to do that?" Coyote asked. "SING!" said Fox. This fable seems a mythical version of Code's concept of second persons. If Fox had maintained a traditional epistemology, in which the construction of knowledge is "an independent project, uncontaminated by the influence of testimony, opinion, or hearsay, [by] ...cognitive agents who can know their en- vironments by their own unaided efforts" then she would not have gone look- ing for someone to sing with, and found Coyote (Code 1991, 71). Or if she had found Coyote, perhaps she would have listened to her song, then incorporated it into her own repertoire, while asserting her difference and her own song's inherent superiority. Instead, it seems that Fox sought an interdependence: manifesting itself in patterns of reciprocal influence. Shifting configura- tions of relationships, and constant reassimilations, ^interpretations, re- constructions of person-histories, commonly in dialogue with other "sec- ond persons." (Code 1991,84) Fox and Coyote are both dog-like, but of different species. Theirs is not a familial relationship, but one which reaches across an inter-species divide, a re- lationship which is achieved rather than assumed, a friendship. Fox and Coyote 26/2 (2006) 31 have some "affinities and shared but not identical histories" (Code 1991, 103). When they meet, and sing, they create a sound that speaks of both of their stor- ies, rubs together the grain of both of their voices, to create a world that express- es their mutual and changed knowledge of it through their meeting. Oliveros encourages artists to find each other across whatever divides them, to create new musical knowledge by putting their voices together, listening and singing. In their letter to her, the organizers of the Feminist Art Program said "your personal vision and achievements have moved us and enriched our develop- ment as young women artists. You are a model to us" (quoted in Oliveros 1984, 103). Oliveros includes this fable in her book as a hopeful message of potential musical and cooperative interaction, a parable of possibility. Because she is better known than many other women composers, Oliveros is able to enrich the development of others. Her work is discussed, if only briefly, in most of the electroacoustic texts. Because she is fairly well known, a younger generation of electroacoustic composers have benefited from reading or hearing her work. Others, especially in North America, have been able to work with her directly through her performances, university courses and workshops. Even though Oliveros is much better known than many other women com- posers, it is still a problem that her work is isolated in many music books. There are still far more references in contemporary music texts to male composers' works than to compositions by women, whose aesthetic approaches seem iso- lated rather than part of a range of approaches. Christine Battersby points out that to be seen as significant within a genre, an author (or composer) has to be seen as: individual but not unique; exceptional but not isolated, strange, freakish or simply crazy. Sadly, the mythologies of female Otherness still make it ex- tremely difficult for critics (and women themselves) to see women in such ways. A male creator credited with an œuvre that is féminine might still retain his cultural significance while celebrating non-entity; but a female viewed as hysterical and ecstatic has to fight off a much more mundane kind of cultural non-entity. (1989,145) In my research, the work of women is generally shown to be much less widely recognized than that of men, leading to isolation and relative cultural nonentity. In addition, when only one woman composer is selected for significant atten- tion within a comprehensive textbook or recorded anthology, her work is likely to be perceived as emblematic of an essentialized femininity, rather than part of a range of approaches by women composers. The work of Oliveros remains isolated within many electroacoustic texts. While textbooks and recorded an- thologies on CD might seem less important as points of access in the age of the internet, these are still some of the main sites where electroacoustic work is documented, analyzed and discussed, making such work more accessible for teaching purposes. Until scholarly websites are given the same academic respect as books and refereed recordings, canonical status for composers will remain linked to citations in these forms, meaning that the demographics of texts and anthologies are still important. 32 Intersections The present project, In and Out of the Sound Studio, aims to explore the approaches of several composers, artists and producers, in order to discern pat- terns of similarity as well as differences in aesthetics. While the majority of our project participants were women, we have also included some men, particularly those engaged in considering questions of gender and sexuality in their work. HlLDEGARD WESTERKAMP Hildegard Westerkamp creates sonic journeys in her compositions that may not be dissimilar to daily life listening journeys—always on the edge between real and processed, real and imagined sounds. In recent years she has conducted soundwalks in many different places around the world, creating contexts for participants to explore how ears and imagination process sonic experiences. She is active on the Board of the World Forum for Acoustic Ecology (WFAE) and until recently was co-editor of Soundscape—The Journal of Acoustic Ecology, a publication of the WFAE. Her website offers detailed information about her various activities in the areas of soundscape composition, acoustic ecology and soundscape studies: <http://www.sfu.ca/~westerka>.10 While Westerkamp's biographical note, reproduced above, clearly situates her work as composition, the entry on Westerkamp in the Encyclopedia of Music in Canada implicitly questions her role as a composer: Westerkamp's most interesting work involves the recording, processing, mix- ing, and structuring of environmental sounds into a "composition'fexploring a different subject, issue or mood. (Bazzana 1992,1396) The quotes around the word composition indicate the author's question about whether this is actually composing. Unlike other composers in the volume, there is no list of selected musical works included in the entry, only writings. Is this because of Westerkamp's contextual soundscape approach to composing, which is often misunderstood? Is it because Westerkamp is also active as a soundscape researcher and activist, as a radio and installation artist, as a writer and as a pub- lic educator, as well as a composer, blurring the boundaries of that category? Westerkamp talks of the importance to her work of several supportive col- leagues in the World Soundscape Project and at Coop Radio in Vancouver, as well as her encounters with Pauline Oliveros. She was impressed by the breath- ing environment that Oliveros creates: When I hear her play the accordion and the way she uses processing in con- certs, it is a breathing type of environment, providing a place for the listener to breathe in and for herself... while she's playing. The way she develops some of the technology is particularly with that in mind.11 Westerkamp also began to integrate Oliveros's sonic meditations into her electroacoustic studio teaching, finding that students started to learn how to 10 From the bio submitted by Westerkamp to the In and Out of the Sound Studio conference in Montreal, July 2005. 11 Interview with McCartney, 1993. http://www.sfu.ca/~westerka%3e.10 26/2 (2006) 33 equalize and filter with their own bodies, thinking about how to incorporate technology rather than seeing it as an alien structure. While Oliveros's recent pieces focus on places with interesting acoustics, Westerkamp's work emphasizes places chosen as much for their ecological and social significance as for their acoustics. The soundwalking series was created specifically for Vancouver radio, and focuses on significant locations in the Van- couver area, such as the flight path for the airport, or skid row. Street Music is about street musicians and their craft, rather than a specific location, but is still based in Vancouver. All of these pieces include encounters with people and other inhabitants. Cricket Voice, for instance, is the result of a specific encounter with a cricket in the Zone of Silence, in New Mexico, USA. Dialogue is particularly important to Westerkamp: "Going on a participa- tory soundwalk ... means to learn to establish a natural dialogue between the surroundings and ourselves" (1974,24). She speaks of dialogue with other spe- cies, or with the echoes of buildings, recognizing and working with an active, responsive environment. Inherent in her idea of dialogue is a critical awareness of her own limited perspective as recordist: the recordists position and perspective, the physical, psychological, pol- itical and cultural stance shaping the choices when recording. My choices are influenced by an understanding of the sonic environment as an intim- ate reflection of the social, technological and natural conditions of the area ... this particular microphone, this particular recording presents only one truth about the environment. (Westerkamp 1994,89-90) Her ideas about dialogue also include respect for the inhabitants of a place. This respect affects her approach to studio work with sound as well. Much of her work emphasizes juxtaposition, and subtle highlighting and transforma- tions rather than radical manipulation of sounds. In an email conversation with me, Westerkamp explains why: I do feel that sounds have their own integrity and feel that they need to be treated with a great deal of care. Why would I slow down the crickets voice but not my daughters? If the cricket had come from my own garden, had a name and would talk to me every day, would I still be able to slow it down? Would I need to? It did take me two years to dare to compose with that crickets recording, as it had been such a magical moment of recording, such a gift. I could not just "manipulate" it. It had to be a new sonic discov- ery journey to retain the level of magic for me. And I remember a moment at which I said "Stop." The journey was beginning to turn into electronic experimentation and the cricket was being obliterated. Same experience with the raven in Beneath the Forest Floor. I tried to make it into a regularly beating drum...it simply wouldn't let me. So I returned to the shape of the original full call, slowed that down and received from it a drum-like sound. It took a whole day to fly off into electronicland and return to the raven call. (Westerkamp 1995) Westerkamp speaks of letting the raven sound speak for itself, about caring for the cricket sound and not wanting to obliterate it. She wishes to leave these 34 Intersections sounds recognizable, not to distance them from their roots in the world. She questions her compositional decisions, and wants sounds to retain their com- plexity, not to be simplified or obscured through her work. Her engagement with the sounds is reflected in her choice of language: the cricket voice was a magical gift, and with the raven sound, she flew. There is a sense in Wester- kamp's language here of an interaction with a living, breathing world, where she can learn from ravens and crickets. At the same time, she does not reject studio manipulation of sound: I like walking the edge between the real sound and the processed sound. On the one hand I want the listener to recognize the source, and thus want to establish a sense of place. But on the other hand I am also fascinated with the processing of sound in the studio...to explore the sound's musical/ acoustic potential in depth. But I abstract an original sound only to a certain degree and am not ac- tually interested in blurring its original clarity. I transform sound in order to highlight its original contours and meanings. (1996,20) Studio transformation of sound, in Westerkamp's work, is intended not to divorce sound from its context in order to create a different symbolic world or narrative, but rather to emphasize certain aspects of the sound, to enhance the listeners' apprehension of, and their engagement with, the context of the work. Once again, there is a dialogue, this time inside the pieces: between the abstracted sounds that Westerkamp creates, and the original recordings that she listened to. This dialogue is carried into a studio method in which Westerkamp creates a counterpoint between the original recordings that recur over and over again throughout a piece, juxtaposed with sounds that are derived from these recordings. For Westerkamp, knowing one's place means trying to understand as much as possible about the social, political, ecological and acoustic aspects of a loca- tion before creating a piece based on sounds recorded in that place. In order to know a place sonically, she engages in dialogue with other human listeners, and attempts to work in dialogue with inhabitants of other species, through dwelling on the acoustic particularities of their voices. This is somewhat different from Stockhausens definition of metacollage as the composer's method of balancing mundane and new sounds: because Westerkamp is committed to listening to the material, the balance derives from interesting facets of the mundane trans- formed into new sounds in dialogue with their sources, rather than new sounds that are thought of as radically different and separate from the mundane. Westerkamp says: "I hear the soundscape as a language with which places and societies express themselves" (1996,19). Pierre Boulez also speaks of sound as language: "I started from the fact I was thinking and went on to construct a musical language from scratch" (Peyser 1976, 63). But while Boulez talks of himself as the only originator of a musical language based in his own thought, Westerkamp develops hers by engaging in dialogue with the multiple inhabit- ants of places, through listening to their sounds. 26/2 (2006) 35 While Westerkamp cannot know the sounds of a place exactly as she would know a human friend, I hear in her words an intent to understand them in simi- lar terms, with respect and tolerance of difference, a search for affinities, and a disinclination to bend them to her will, however much she was initially tempt- ed. When she flew off to electronicland, Westerkamp approached the raven call in a normatively electrocaoustic fashion: as a sound object, raw material to be transformed into something else that the composer wants as an element in a predetermined composition. When she returns to the raven call and listens to it (because it would not let her make the beat regular: she recognized its agency), then she received a sound that she recognized as drum-like. She maintained her own agency, was still moving to the sound of her own drum, with a beat that re- sulted from the rhythm inherent in the original call of the raven and the results of her processing. The dialogue in her work between raven as sound object and subject, between recording and processing, between raven and human, creates bridges between these categories that denies them the power of absolute exclu- sion by playing in the space between. Westerkamp's dialogic interactions within compositions provide openings for a feminist analysis around ecological thinking and empathetic knowledge. However, she does not refer to her work as feminist, and only rarely deals direct- ly with themes of gender in her compositions (for instance, His Master's Voice, and Moments of Laughter, neither of which has been included on a CD). Several of the project participants do describe their work as feminist and ad- dress gender issues directly in much of their work. One prominent example is electroacoustic composer Wende Bartley. W E N D E BARTLEY Wende Bartley is a Toronto based composer writing electroacoustic, vocal and instrumental music ifi a variety of mediums. She has received numerous awards and grants, and her work is performed internationally and appears on the emp- reintes DIGITALes label, among others, She recently completed an investiga- tion into "sound as vibrational energy" funded through the Chalmers Program at the Ontario Arts Council. Recent compositions include "The Handless Maid- en", for soprano and electroacoustics with libretto by Claudia Dey, "Panagia" for chamber choir and electroacoustics, a series of 8 channel works including the music-driven theatre work for vocalist Fides Krucker entitled "The girl with no door on her mouth", and "Oracle" which is based on recordings created at early goddess temple sites in Greece and Malta. Bartley was educated at University of Toronto, and then McGill University, where she received an MMus in composition. It was part of Bartleys graduate work that was presented at the In and Out of the Sound Studio conference: "Ris- ing Tides of Generations Lost," which is an important feminist work about the historical silencing of women's voices. Bartley describes it: This piece intends to create a sense of the female voice, the historical female voice which has been silenced. The piece starts off using whispered vowels, con- sonants and syllables—fragments from the words Speaking, unspoken, seen, 36 Intersections unseen. It continues by making references to the witch burning trials that swept throughout Europe over several centuries, the suffragette era, and then conclud- ing with phrases about memory from an interview with her mother and great aunt. I got some strong reactions from some of my colleagues. One person was quite upset and said "Why do you have to write music like this?" My sup- port really came from the combination of my friends and a women's group I belonged to outside of McGill. (Interview with author, 1993) Hannah Bosma (2003) has discussed Wende Bartleys work as unusual in electrovocal practice. The vast majority of electrovocal pieces have a man as composer and a woman's voice as the material. Bartley's position as a woman composer complicates the binary, and more recently she has also used her own voice in some compositions, taking the position of performer as well as com- poser. While her early vocal works were concerned with the cultural silencing of women's voices in Western history, her early instrumental works explored formal structures based on the spiral image which has been found at many early stone circle and goddess temple sites. This image led her to explore time as radial rather than linear and organising compositional flow through timbrai families. Bartley describes her more recent work as a "process of working co-cre- atively with the intelligence of nature" (Copeland/Bartley 2004, 22). She speaks of making connections with "devas" or spirit energies of natural and musical forms that she wishes to work with. Bartley also often works col- laboratively with other artists, such as in the interdisciplinary theatre work, The Girl with No Door on Her Mouth, based on texts by Anne Carson and performed, produced and co-directed by Fides Krucker. Through this work, Bartley has been able "to deepen [her] historical awareness of how cultural structures and institutions have been created to contain and control both woman's soundmaking and sexuality. The Girl traces the journey of one woman's voice from containment to ecstasy" (Copeland/Bartley, 2004,23). Recently, Bartley has also been considering how principles of sound healing can be applied to compositional work. She considers this knowledge of healing principles to be crucial to creative work at this point in history: "The state of imbalance in our world stems from a denial and rejection of the feminine, of the earth, and of the body. Balance will be restored when there is a true meet- ing and union between the masculine and the feminine. "The Handless Maid- en"—a composition for soprano and electroacoustics—was composed through dialogue with the intelligence of sound to create a sonic tapestry of vibrations with the intention of bringing balance and harmony." (Copeland/Bartley 2004, 26). Inspired by the work of visual artist Judy Chicago, Bartley aims to "forge new models of artistic practice that synthesize formal artistic structures with the expression of women's voices." (Copeland/Bartley 2004,20). Her references to the intelligence of sound resonate with Westerkamp's assertions that sounds have agency that a composer must listen to and respect. Although they are ar- 26/2 (2006) 37 ticulated somewhat differently, both approaches imply a search for empathetic knowledge. Like Bartley, there were other participants who directly address gender issues in much of their work, such as Eveline Boudreau, Victoria Fenner, Michèle An- derson, Shona Dietz, and Marian van der Zon. Of all the conference registrants, it was Professor Barry Truax who discussed both sexuality and gender most explicitly in relation to his own compositional work, perhaps because tenure gives him some measure of protection from discrimination in the workplace. When I first did interviews of women electroacoustic composers in the mid- nineties, one of the participants spoke openly about issues related to sexuality in the interview, but later refused to have these parts of the interview discussed in a research paper, precisely because of this concern about homophobia. BARRY TRUAX Barry Truax is a Professor in both the School of Communication and the School for the Contemporary Arts at Simon Fraser University where he teaches courses in acoustic communication and electroacoustic music. He has worked with the World Soundscape Project, editing its Handbook for Acoustic Ecology, and has published a book Acoustic Communication dealing with all aspects of sound and technology. As a composer, Truax is best known for his work with the PODX computer music system which he has used for tape solo works and those which combine tape with live performers or computer graphics. A selection of these pieces may be heard on the recording Sequence of Earlier Heaven, and the Compact Discs Digital Soundscapes, Pacific Rim, Song of Songs, Inside, Islands, and Twin Souls, all on the Cambridge Street Records label, as well as the double CD of the opera Powers of Two. In 1991 his work, Riverrun, was awarded the Magisterium at the International Competition of Electroacoustic Music in Bourges, France, a cat- egory open only to electroacoustic composers of 20 or more years experience. He is also the recipient of one of the 1999 Awards for Teaching Excellence at Simon Fraser University.12 Barry Truax was one of a small minority of male registrants at the In and Out of the Sound Studio conference, where his video Androgyne, mon amour was screened during an evening concert. As he states above, as a composer he is best known for his work with the PODX computer system. The instrumental bias of many electroacoustic textbooks13 means that there is discussion of his develop- ment of hardware and software for real-time granular synthesis of sound, but little is said in these general texts about the content and context of his compos- itional process, his approach to soundscape composition more particularly, or his ideas about context or control. 12 From the bio submitted for the In and Out of the Sound Studio conference. 13 Discussed at length in McCartney 2000. 38 Intersections Truax's own writing about electroacoustic music has shifted from an earlier "electro-normative"14 focus on instruments and techniques,15 to historical con- siderations of soundscape composition,16 articles about granular synthesis that bring together questions of technique with those of compositional context and complexity (1994, 38-48), and more recently an article that deals directly with questions of gender and sexuality in his own musical work (2003,117-124). In the latter article, Truax speculates about why there is such an absence of erot- ic themes, and discussion of gender and sexuality issues, in the arena of elec- troacoustic music. While discussions of gender and especially homosexuality were muted in musicology as a whole until recent decades, this was particularly marked in relation to electroacoustic music, which has remained primarily a male homosocial environment that denies homoeroticism as a defence: "men working together with technology create a homosocial environment, similar to that found in sports and the military, where strict taboos on homosexual activ- ity are enforced and result in expressions of homophobic denial" (Truax 2003, 118). For Truax, legitimizing alternative voices is crucial to counter the hierarch- ical restrictions of the electroacoustic compositional environment: "I believe the emergence and legitimation of these alternative voices is the only way to combat the hegemony of technology and its control over our lives" (2003,119). He con- tinues by describing his contextual and homoerotic approach to composition. Like Westerkamp, Truax was one of the initial members of the World Sound- scape Project, and similarly to Westerkamp, Truax emphasizes the importance of context to his musical composition. He describes his work as "contextually based music creation," focusing primarily on soundscape composition and text- based theatre work, which he believes allow context to surface most compelling- ly through the specificities of environmental sounds and human voices (Truax 2003,118). He discusses the composition of several text-sound works, articulat- ing how his use of granulation, textual transformation and transposition con- tribute to blurring gender boundaries and creating homoerotic compositions. Truax traces his interest in integrating voice speaking gendered texts into compositional work to when he began working with sampled recorded sounds, particularly through granulation, in the late 1980s. This interest in working with sampled recorded sound itself grew out of a focus on timbrai design in com- position. Timbre, the texture of sound, is sensuously tactile, and the explora- tion of timbre can evoke erotic states. Granulation can involve several harmonic streams at different pitches, dwelling in the timbre of the sound. Truax says "A word becomes a prolonged gesture, often with smooth contours and enriched timbre. Its emotional impact is intensified and the listener has more time to 14 A playful variant on hetero-normative. 15 See for instance Barry Truax, "Composing with real-time granular sound," Perspectives of New Music 28(2), 1990,120-34; or Barry Truax, "Composing with time-shifted environmental sound," Leon- ardo Music Journal 2(1), 1992,37-40. 16 See Barry Truax "Electroacoustic music and the soundscape: the inner and outer world." In J. Paynter, T. Howell, R. Orton and P. Seymour, editors, Companion to Contemporary Musical Thought, (London: Routledge, 1992 374-98); or "Genres and techniques of soundscape composition as developed at Simon Fraser University," Organised Sound 7(1), 2002, 5-14. 26/2 (2006) 39 savour its levels of meaning" (2003, 119). Instead of an electro-normative re- lentless quest for the new, this is a search for deeper meaning through savouring slowness, textural and textual play. As the harmonizing function of granulation shifts voices up and down, gender boundaries are blurred. Truax chooses to work with female contraltos and male counter-tenors, whose singing can also challenge ideas of what masculine and feminine voices sound like. After becoming established in the electroacoustic community because of his contributions to real-time granulation systems, Barry Truax has been able to shift his writing to reflect his thinking about social and political contexts of con- temporary composition, as well as its instruments and materials. His dual pos- ition in Communications and Music, as well as his openness to gender issues, has allowed him to support the work of many women and men student compos- ers, at Simon Fraser University. Most of the participants in our study do not have a tenured institutional pos- ition. Many are independent artists who rely on commissions and grants as well as part-time teaching, editing or contract industry work for their income. This is the case with Kathy Kennedy, a sound artist. KATHY KENNEDY Kathy Kennedy is a sound artist with a background in classical singing. Her art practice generally involves the voice and issues of interface with technology, often using telephony or radio. She is also involved in community art, and is a founder of the digital media center for women in Canada, Studio XX, as well as the innovative choral group for women, Choeur Maha. Her large scale sonic installation/performances for up to 100 singers and radio, called "sonic chor- eographies," have been performed internationally including the inauguration of the Vancouver New Public Library and at the Lincoln Center's Out of Doors Series, <http://www.kathykennedy.ca>.17 Kathy Kennedy became interested in composition when she was a graduate student in vocal performance, noting that the role of composer garnered more respect than that of performer, and that there was little repertoire that she could sing from the heart. She could not identify with the crazed female characters that populated the operatic canon. She had been trained as a visual artist before doing music, and understood electroacoustic music as a way of finding a spatial articulation for sound structures, using composition skills that she had learned in art school.18 When Kennedy considers spatialization of sound, she is not thinking pri- marily through instrumental metaphors. In the notes to a recent piece, Ballade Orale, Kennedy thinks through the body: "For years IVe been thinking about how we experience sound; how to bathe in it, feel it with the entire body, and also how to listen dynamically... What has become of our relationship to physical space in our world where any sound can be transmitted in any place?" (2006). From the bio submitted to the In and Out of the Sound Studio conference, Montreal, 2005. Interview with author, Montreal, 1993. Interviews were conducted as part of MA research at York University. (McCartney 1994) http://www.kathykennedy.ca%3e.17 40 Intersections Her work explores the intimacies and distances of voices and the technologies that broadcast them. Many of her works are large-scale performances involv- ing scores of people, using micro-radio, cell phone or other sound technologies to provide intimate links over distance. These are works that enact her belief that "sound is territory," and that are powerful both spatially and politically. Her sonic choreographies lead peaceful but determined singing through public places with political import, such as city hall or the corporate home of provin- cial hydro. When these soundmakers walk through such a public place, singing together, they disrupt the hierarchies of power through evident pleasure. Dur- ing one such interaction at Montréal City Hall: we got all the way up to the second floor before anybody knew that any- thing was going on, and we got to feel reactions of people on the street look- ing at us, and workers coming back from lunch break. Hieyd look at us, and see women, happy, carefree, singing, and you'd see this big smile from them. The security guards at first did not notice our radios.... Then when they saw all the radios, and saw communication and technology, they freaked out.19 Kennedy's work can be understood as an enactment of a politics of urban space, engaging with broadcast technology and performance in the public sphere to subvert established hierarchies.20 Certainly she is in control of what happens, control of a large number of people moving through a public place, traversing territory through sound and sound as territory. She pokes fun at her own conducting figure in a video of her piece Never/Always in which a hundred singers travelled in choreographed formations at Place des Arts in Montreal: "Look at the little Napoleon!"21 This ironic stance constantly returns attention to the possible hierarchies being called on by a particular role or situation. Her function exceeds that of a general, however. Consider the musical score to Bal- lade Orale, which was handed to each audience member of a performance-in- stallation:22 Choose a specific song with or without words. Sing this song in a variety of sonic environments and adapt it musically to the changes. Listen for other songs and try to integrate them. Choose, sing, listen, integrate, adapt. Not the words of a general, who relies on foot soldiers to follow orders from above without deviation. Here, Kennedy is attempting to establish an aural commons where the inhabitants enact con- scious choices, express themselves through melodious sound, pay attention to the spaces that they are moving through and adapt to those environments, listen for the expressions of others and converse with them. The installation-perform- 19 From an interview with the author, 1993. 20 For farther discussion, see Ellen Waterman, "Radio Bodies: Discourse, Performance, Reson- ance," (forthcoming) 21 At a public presentation of her work during the Radio Without Boundaries conference, Ryerson University, Toronto (New Adventures in Sound Art), May 2006. 22 See Kathy Kennedy, "Ballade Orale," EContact! Women and Electroacoustics 3 (Montreal: 2006), <http://cec/concordia.ca/econtact/8_2/Kennedy.html>. http://cec/concordia.ca/econtact/8_2/Kennedy.html 26/2 (2006) 41 ance is reliant on the expressions of the audience. Kennedy provides the frame- work upon which the expressions depend, but she does not determine the out- come. Ihe audience is not asked to listen to and learn from the expressions of the anointed artist, but to co-create with her and with each other. This musical approach is consistent with Kennedy's political commitment to community art, specifically feminist groups such as Studio XX and Choeur Maha. While Hildegard Westerkamp and Barry Truax both refer to their work as composition, Kathy Kennedy identifies as a sound artist. Many of the partici- pants in the In and Out of the Sound Studio project were not as clearly connect- ed with the fine arts. They may speak of their work as sound design, production, recording, or mixing. Outside of the discourses of music and media arts, little is written about the aesthetics of sound work. To what extent is it possible to speak of shared practices among composers, artists, producers and mixers? In writing on the social and political dynamics of music recording studios, production staff were originally discussed as a different group from musicians, separated from them by the window between recording room and control room.23 Those who combine functions, like producer-musician Brian Eno, are surrounded by an aura of genius. Albin Zak's recent analysis of music recording acknowledges that studio work is teamwork and "most of the tasks involved in making a rec- ord require some measure of artistry," but the contributions of engineers and producers are still limited to a specific chapter (2001,163). Zak says "A mixing engineer can affect a track's arrangement simply by manipulating the equaliza- tion and loudness controls on the mixing console" (ibid., 164). Is this simply manipulation? During a discussion about the In and Out of the Sound Studio project at a concert, a composer turned to me in some surprise when I spoke of Shelley Craig's participation. "Isn't she a technician?" SHELLEY C R A I G Shelley Craig is a re-recording mixer with a background in classical music. Shel- ley received her musical training in piano and composition with a Bachelor of Music from University of British Columbia. She continued her studies at McGill University completing a Masters of Music in the Tonemeister (Sound Record- ing) program. Shelley works mainly as a National Film Board re-recording en- gineer mixing sound for film and video. She has also taught a Masters Course in Sound for Image at McGill and has given numerous workshops. Working for the National Film Board for the last twenty years, Shelley has mixed the sound for hundreds of films—animation, documentaries, fiction, docu-drama... Among other awards, she has a Genie nomination for her work on Sitting in Limbo by director John Smith. Presently, in addition to working for the National Film Board, Shelley plays the piano accompaniment for her four children who all See for instance Edward Kealy, "The Real Rock Revolution: Sound Mixers, Social In equality, and the Aesthetics of Popular Music Production," PhD Dissertation, (Northwestern University, 1974); Steve Jones, Rock Formation: Music, Technology, and Mass Communication (Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications, 1992). 42 Intersections study string instruments. As a parent, she aims to offer her children the joy of listening and of hearing the art of sounds.24 Like many people who work as engineers and mixers, Shelley Craig received her initial academic training in music performance and composition. Even as a child, she had a profound interest in music, and in mixing music with text. At the age of ten, preparing a student project on famous composers, she used a portable turntable to select excerpts of composers' works to be played along with what she had written about them. As a child, she asked her parents for sound gear such as recorders and microphones. Then, when choosing a uni- versity program, she was as attracted to math and physics as much as music, but felt she would miss music too much if she chose engineering. Eventually, with the Tonemeister graduate programme, she was able to combine both of her academic interests.25 Craig was the only woman in the Tonemeister programme at McGill in 1983, and the first to graduate from the programme. It was a very competitive atmos- phere, unnecessarily so in Craig's opinion. Boden Sandstrom, an American music mix engineer, notes that the music mixing environment is also highly competitive, with hazing rituals attuned to filter women out (Sandstrom 2000). The mix engineer "is in a position of power. This power involves control of the mix and overall sound" (ibid., 293). It is difficult for women to gain access to these power positions, even when they are trained and on site. Both Boden Sandstrom and Shelley Craig reported an experience where a supportive male colleague had to phone in sick and refuse to come to work before a client would allow the woman mixer to handle the job. The huge theatre console of the film re-recording mixer, with its hundreds of inputs, is emblematic of the control she wields over the shape of the final sound mix. Yet at the same time, Craig speaks of how film sound is always teamwork, with several people working on the soundtrack including sound recordist, edi- tor, music composer, and mixer. The final word is the film director's. So this is not the ultimate control of one artist, but the constrained control and constant negotiation of one contributor within a particular domain taking part in a lar- ger project. Here is a different concern with context. Beyond the context of the composition, of the sound materials involved in it or of the relationship between artist and audience, it is the context of collaboration in a work setting. Unlike in Boulez' formation, in which a scientist is the most important contributor, here the director, the creative instigator of the film, has the last word. The amount of influence that Craig has depends somewhat on the type of film being made, whether it is documentary, feature or animation. With the latter genre, because all of the sound is done in post-production, there is the greatest latitude for the mixer to shape the world of the soundtrack. With equalizing, reverberation and spatialization of sound, Shelley Craig mixes sound in ways that shape a film soundtrack both subtly and deeply: 24 From the bio submitted to the In and Out of the Sound Studio conference, Montreal, 2005. 25 For more on Shelley Craig's life and work, see Lisa Gasior, 2005. 26/2 (2006) 43 Craig recently worked on a film called War Hospital... The sound design and location recording, done by John Blerot, made Craig's job a pleasure as Blerot's soundscapes were rich and full, having all been recorded on location at the hospital. The opening sequence of this film ... is a good example of the magic that can happen when good sound recording meets good sound editing meets Shelley Craig. The location recordings are not only true to the images on the screen, they represent the time and space of the film and can be listened to, without the images, as a successful soundscape composition. This is in large part due to the spatialization techniques employed by Craig: the feeling of being in that space is actualized. You can hear helicopters up in the sky, off to one side, or the voice of a hospital volunteer calling from behind you, which makes the film more real.26 In the sound world of a film, contributions to the final soundtrack are made by the recordist, on location following dialogue, and frequently in recent times going beyond recording room tone to doing sustained and diverse soundscape recordings on site; the various editors who work on dialogue, music, or sound environments; the music composer and finally the re-recording mixer, whose ear for time and space smoothes all these elements together. The success of her work depends on her ability to establish a positive, empathie relation with the director of the film, and to express that relation sonically. D I A N E LEBœuF Diane Lebœuf is president and artistic director of Sonodesign, a sound design, video and new media production company in Montreal. Her sound work for museum exhibits can be heard at the Pointe-à-Callière and McCord museums in Montreal, Musée de la Civilisation in Québec, and Grosse île. Sono design also works with the Cirque du Soleil, and produces DVD and multimedia pres- entations for a number of media corporations. Diane Lebœuf 's work is highly collaborative. She interacts with museum ad- ministrators, exhibit designers, performers, engineers, artists, and historians in her sound design of museum exhibits, many of which are on permanent display at the Pointe-à-Callière museum in Montréal, among other places (she has done over 150 museum exhibits). A museum sound design has several features that are unique. There are often distinct areas within a room that must be designed sonically to feel different from each other, and yet integrate seamlessly with the other locations in the exhibit, allowing visitors to stroll through, having a sense of movement and continuity. Lebœuf must know the place of the museum very well: its technical constraints of equipment and acoustics; the desires of the exhibitor regarding the design of the overall exhibition; the history and aesthetics of the exhibit itself; the type of audience that is likely to visit the exhibit. Taking all of these factors into account, she needs to design several sound environments that cohabit in one room, and that can be entered at any time. The sound works that she makes therefore have See Gasior, 2005. The excerpt discussed here is included on the CD of this Musicworks issue. 44 Intersections no defined beginning or end, but are conceived of spatially, as long loops that are harmonically, rhythmically and tonally suited to interact with each other. Another aspect of Diane's work is sound design for virtual exhibits. For instance, in the McCord exhibit, Urban life through two lenses, <http://www. mccordmuseum.qc.cq/urbanlife>, she needed to compose historical sound- scapes for 34 Montreal locations to accompany photographs taken by William Notman in the nineteenth century. She and her team worked with historians, and studied the photographs, to decide which sounds would be appropriate for each scene. At the same time, she worked with contemporary photographer Andrzej Maciejewski who did photos from the same perspective as Notman, and recorded current soundscapes in these same locations. Now, a visitor to the website can understand more about changes in the Montreal landscape, both aural and visual, by sliding a mouse over each photograph while viewing them. Diane Lebœuf 's business success has depended on her ability to collaborate weË with people in an interdisciplinary context, to try to put herself in the place of people who lived in very different places and times, and to make sonic bridg- es with contemporary experience, in order to animate exhibits for visitors. She speaks of building life-long relationships with clients, and is now in a position to choose who she wishes to have as clients. In the museum administration com- munity, there are many women, who appreciate the way that Lebœuf explains technical concepts to them in ways that they can understand, and listens to their concerns. These empathetic qualities make her work stand out from the rest. THE ROLE OF THE ELECTROACOUSTIC SOUNDMAKER In the early days of electroacoustics, soundmakers like Eimert, Stockhausen and Boulez were concerned with the role of the composer, and how that role was be- ing shaped by the practices of electroacoustic technologies. An anxiety echoes through their assertions that the composer must control primordial sound ma- terials, and that he must be objective, technically up-to-date, and scientific. At that time, Schaeffer's emphasis on listening to sonic materials and contact with a known sound world seemed radical, too radical to last. Oram had an idea about the role of the composer which seemed more fluid and even more subject to chance. The metaphor of the yachtsman includes a requirement of listening to the environment for one's survival, being open to change and reacting to it as quickly as the sailor reacts to the wind. Oliveros includes listening to others as an important part of creative sound work. Her fable brings together actors of different species who listen to each others' ideas, and learn. Westerkamp also in- cludes listening to the actors within a soundscape composition, whether people, crickets or ravens, attempting to learn more about their roles in the sound en- vironment, and paying attention to how the sound can be processed, and what kinds of processing certain sounds resist. Bartley listens for the devas of sound worlds and works collaboratively with performers. Truax advocates being aware of and explicity about one's gender and sexuality, and how they influence con- textual composition. Kennedy opens the role of the sound artist into facilitation of a creative experience for wide audiences, who are included in the creation of http://www.mccordmuseum.qc.cq/urbanlife http://www.mccordmuseum.qc.cq/urbanlife 26/2 (2006) 45 the sound wort Craig integrates her musical, technical and filmic knowledges in a collaborative work environment where she never loses track of the roles of others in relation to her own. Craig also includes her parenting role in her biography, an indication of how she attempts to integrate parts of her life that seem disparate in this professionalized culture. Lebœuf speaks of an approach to soundmaking that takes into account the needs and desires of a wide range of professional collaborators, and allows visitors to move seamlessly through imaginatively created sonic spaces. What significance can these shifts in ideas about the role of the soundmaker have for the acceptance of electroacoustic genres? One way would be to chal- lenge the myth of the genderless composer. Claire Piché notes that of the win- ners in the young composers' competition held by the Canadian Electroacous- tic Community up until 2005, only one of the many winners has been female (2006).27 The judging is done "blind" (or should we say deaf?) since the jury is able to hear each composition but is not given identifying information about the student and emerging composers involved. If the majority of the compos- ers on the jury accept the same ideas about abstraction, compositional control and technical manipulation that Boulez did—and why would they not, given the canonical restrictions of curricula in which the abstract masters dominate and alternative voices are seldom heard or discussed—then the jury will se- lect those works that fit this same mold, thus continuing and reinforcing these ideas. When a wider range of aesthetics is considered throughout the curricula of electroacoustic music, sound art and sound production courses, through lis- tening to and discussing the work of composers, artists, producers, designers and mixers from many different backgrounds and working contexts, the range of what can be considered electroacoustic soundmaking will really open up to an electroacoustic ecology of diversity, and an acceptance of a wide range of ap- proaches to abstraction, control and knowledge, including empathetic knowing and ecological thought. REFERENCES Bartley, Wende. 1989. Ellipsis. Master's thesis, McGill University Music Dept. Battersby, Christine. 1989. Gender and Genius: Towards A Feminist Aesthetics. Bloomington and Indianapolis: Indiana University Press. Bazzana, Kevin. 1992 "Hildegard Westerkamp." In Encyclopedia of Music in Canada, ed. Helmut Kallmann, Gilles Potvin and Kenneth Winters, 1396. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Born, Georgina. 1995. Rationalizing Culture: IRCAM, Boulez, and the Institu- tionalization of the Musical Avant-Garde. Berkeley: University of California Press. In the competition held in the fall of 2006, after Piché's article was written, there were two more female winners. 46 Intersections Bosma, Hannah. 2003. "Bodies of evidence, singing cyborgs and other gender issues in electrovocal music." Organised Sound: An international journal of music technology (Gender in Music Technology) 8, no. 1:5. Chadabe, Joel. 1997 Electric Sound: The Past and Promise of Electronic Music. Upper Saddle River, NJ: Prentice Hall. Code, Lorraine. 1991. What Can She Know? Feminist Theory and the Construc- tion of Knowledge. Ithaca, NY: Cornell. . 1995. Rhetorical Spaces: Essays on Gendered Locations. New York: Rout- ledge. . 2005 "Ecological naturalism: Epistemic Responsibility and the Politics of Knowledge." Dialogue and Universalism 15, no. 5/6. Copeland, Darren, and Wende Bartley. 2004. "in tune with co-creation: the musical practice of Wende Bartley." Musicworks 90. Fall. 18-27. Cott, Johnathan. 1973. Stockhausen: Conversations with the Composer. New York: Simon and Schuster. Eimert, Herbert and Karlheinz Stockhausen, ed. 1958. die Reihe 1. Bryn Mawr, Pennsylvania: Theodore Presser. English edition. Fuller, Sophie. 1994. The Pandora Guide to Women Composers: Britain and the United States, 1629-Present. London: Harper Collins. Gasior, Lisa. 2005. "That's Ms. Shelley Craig—re-recording mixer extraordin- aire." Musicworks Magazine 93 (Fall): 32-39. Haraway, Donna. 1991. "Situated Knowledges." Simians, Cyborgs, and Women: The Reinvention of Nature. New York: Routledge. Jo Hutton, Jo. 2003. "Daphne Oram, her life and work." Organised Sound: An international journal of music technology (Gender in Music Technology) 8, no.l: 49-56 Jones, Steve. 1992. Rock Formation: Music, Technology, and Mass Communica- tion Newbury Park, CA: Sage Publications. Kealy, Edward. 1974. The Real Rock Revolution: Sound Mixers, Social In equality, and the Aesthetics of Popular Music Production. PhD diss., Northwestern University. Kennedy, Kathy. 2006. "Ballade Orale." EContact! 8.2 Women and Electro- acoustics 3. Montreal: Canadian Electroacoustic Community. <http://cec. concordia.ca/econtact/8_2/Kennedy.html> Lloyd, Genevieve. 1984. The Man of Reason: "Male" and "Female" in Western Philosophy. Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press. Maconie, Robin. 1976. The Works of Karlheinz Stockhausen. London: Oxford University Press. Manning, Peter. 1985. Electronic and Computer Music. 1st edition. Oxford: Clarendon Press. McCartney, Andra. 1994. Creating Worlds for my Music to Exist: How Women Composers of Electroacoustic Music Make Place for their Voices. MA thesis, Music department, York University, Toronto. <http://sl71907168. onlinehome.us/andrasound/research/masters.pdf> http://cec.concordia.ca/econtact/8_2/Kennedy.html http://cec.concordia.ca/econtact/8_2/Kennedy.html http://sl71907168.onlinehome.us/andrasound/research/masters.pdf http://sl71907168.onlinehome.us/andrasound/research/masters.pdf 26/2 (2006) 47 . 2000 "Soundscape Composition and the Subversion of Electroacous- tic Norms," Journal SEAMUS 14, no. 2: 6-24. Published online for ECon- tactl Electroacoustic Histories. (2001). <http://cec.concordia.ca/econtact/ Histories/SoundscapeComposition.htm> McClary, Susan. 1991. Feminine Endings: Music, Gender and Sexuality. Minne- apolis: University of Minnesota Press. Nattiez, Jean-Jacques, ed. 1993. The Boulez-Cage Correspondence. Translated by Robert Samuels. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Oliveros, Pauline. 1974. Sonic Meditations. Baltimore, MD: Smith. . 1984. Software for People. Baltimore, MD: Smith. Oliveros, Pauline and Fred Maus. 1994. "A Conversation about Feminism and Music." Perspectives of New Music 32, no. 2:174-193. Oram, Daphne. 1971. An Individual Note of Music, Sound and Electronics. Norfolk: Galliard. Peyser, John. 1976. Boulez. New York: Schirmer. Piché, Claire. 2006. "Au delà du sexe et de la technologie : les tendances du genre." EContact! Women and Electroacoustics 3. Montréal: Canadian Electroacous- tic Community. <http://cec.concordia.ca/econtact/8_2/Piche.html> Sandstrom, Boden. 2000. "Women Mix Engineers and the Power of Sound." In Music and Gender, ed. Pirkko Moisala and Beverley Diamond, 289-305. Urbana, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2000. Schaeffer, Pierre. 1967. La Musique concrète. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France. . 1990. Vœuvre Musicale. France: INA-GRM. Truax, Barry. 1990. "Composing with real-time granular sound." Perspectives of New Music 28, no. 2:120-34. . 1992a. "Composing with time-shifted environmental sound." Leonardo Music Journal 2, no.l: 37-40. . 1992b. "Electroacoustic music and the soundscape: the inner and outer world." In Companion to Contemporary Musical Thought, ed. J. Paynter, T. Howell, R. Orton and P. Seymour, 374-398. London: Routledge. . 1994. "Discovering inner complexity: Time-shifting and transposition with a real-time granulation technique." Computer Music Journal 18, no. 2: 38-48. . 2002. "Genres and techniques of soundscape composition as developed at Simon Fraser University." Organised Sound 7, no.l: 5-14. . 2003. "Homoeroticism and electroacoustic music: absence and personal voice." Organised Sound 8, no.l: 117-124. Waterman, Ellen. 2006. "Radio Bodies: Discourse, Performance, Resonance." In Radio Territories, ed. B. LaBelle and E. G. Jensen. Los Angeles: Errant Bod- ies Press, (forthcoming). Westerkamp, Hildegard. 1974. "Soundwalking." Sound Heritage 3(4): 24. . 1994. "The Soundscape On Radio." In Radio Rethink, ed. D. Augaitis and D. Lander, 89-90. Banff, Alberta: Walter Phillips Gallery. http://cec.concordia.ca/econtact/Histories/SoundscapeComposition.htm http://cec.concordia.ca/econtact/Histories/SoundscapeComposition.htm http://cec.concordia.ca/econtact/8_2/Piche.html 48 Intersections . 1995. Personal communication with author, March 26. . 1996. Transformations. CD liner notes. Montreal: empreintes DIGIT- ALes. Zak, Albin. 2001. The Poetics of Rock: Cutting Tracks, Making Records. Berkeley: University of California Press. Zweig, Arnulf. 1967. "Theodor Lipps." Encyclopedia of Philosophy Vol. 40. 4 8 5 - 486. New York: Macmillan. ABSTRACT This article is an exploration of how genres and practices of electroacoustic sound- making28 are gendered, examining processes of gendering in language used in the early dichotomous categorization between musique concrète and elektronische Musik, then thinking about related arguments concerning abstraction, context, and compositional control in the writings of electroacoustic soundmakers including Pierre Schaeffer, Pierre Boulez, Daphne Oram, Pauline Oliveros, and several participants of the In and Out of the Sound Studio project. Analysis of their practices and ideas suggests different ways of conceptualising electroacoustic genres, their related practices, and roles of contem- porary electroacoustic soundmakers (composers, artists, producers, mixers, audiences ...), by examining the potentials of the concepts of empathetic knowledge and ecological thinking advanced by feminist epistemologist Lorraine Code. RÉSUMÉ Cet article est une exploration des rapports sociaux de genre (« genrification ») dans les différents types et pratiques de création sonore électroacoustique29, étudiant les procé- dés de « genrification » du niveau de langage utilisé dans les premières catégorisations dichotomiques entre la musique concrète et Y elektronische Musik} puis se penchant sur les arguments apparentés portent sur l'abstraction, le contexte et le contrôle compo- sitionnel que Ton retrouve dans les écrits des créateurs électroacoustiques tels Pierre Schaeffer, Pierre Boulez, Daphne Oram, Pauline Oliveros et plusieurs participants du projet Dedans/Dehors du studio. L'analyse de leurs pratiques et de leurs idées suggère différentes manières de conceptualiser les genres de Télectroacoustique, leurs pratiques connexes et les rôles des créateurs sonores contemporains en électroacoustique (compo- siteurs, artistes, producteurs, sonorisateurs, auditoires...), en examinant les potentialités des concepts de connaissance comprehensive et de pensée écologique, termes proposés par Pépistémologiste féministe Lorraine Code. 28 I use the term electroacoustic soundmaking rather than composition because not all of the participants in the In and Out of the Studio project identify themselves as composers, but all, including composers, make creative work with sound. 29 J'utilise le terme de création sonore électroacoustique au lieu de composition car ce ne sont pas tous les participants au projet Dedans/Dehors du studio qui s'identifie comme compositeurs. Par contre, tous, y compris les compositeurs, créent des œuvres sonores. 
work_choof2ky7zhefcpyzluwqnclxi	----	1 Schemas Theory Overview Part 1 Origins of the S-prime hypothesis Kent D. Palmer kent@palmer.name http://kdp.me 714-633-9508 Copyright 2018 KD Palmer All Rights Reserved. Not for Distribution. SchemasTheoryOverview_01_20181128kdp01a Draft Version 01; unedited 2018.11.28-29 http://orcid.org/0000-0002-5298-4422 http://schematheory.net http://emergentdesign.net Key Words: Schemas Theory, Systems Theory, Form, Pattern, Meta-system, OpenScape, Domain, World, Spacetime, Phenomenology, Structure of a Pattern, Essence of a Form, Nucleus of a System, Locus of a Meta-system, Systems Science, Systemology, Schematology. Abstract: Exploring the different organizations of our experience in its zeroth encounter with things in spacetime. The emergence of Schemas Theory as the next higher level of Abstraction beyond Systems Theory. We advance from Systemology to Schematology at the Metaphysical level and posit a new foundation for Systems Science in a broader discipline that considers all possible schemas and not just the System schema as the basis of our practical work in relation to the phenomena of experience. Schemas Theory is an attempt to augment Systems Theory in order to make it more robust by taking Systems Theory to the next higher level of Abstraction. It generalizes the theory of Systems by asking: What else is there that is like a system, yet different? By ‘like a system’ we mean that it gives an organization of things that is generic as a template of understanding. By ‘different’ we mean that each type of schematic organization that is considered must be very different from each other when we consider carefully the existence of non-systems. We know that there are other schemas than the System schema just by looking at the Western tradition because there are Patterns and Forms which are not Systems and they have very different organizations from the System Schema. And that clues us in that the next level up of abstraction from Systems Theory has to be a theory of the different types of organization very different from the organization of systems. Systems mailto:kent@palmer.name http://kdp.me/ http://orcid.org/0000-0002-5298-4422 http://schematheory.net/ 2 Theory itself has become blinded to the fact that these other types of organization exist. Systems theorists believe that there are only systems in existence. But if we look back at the tradition we find that the first schema was Form and that most of our tradition was ruled by an obsession with the form schema, such that historically no other schema was recognized and worth considering. Then, about the middle of the last century, but even perhaps a hundred or so years before that if we look carefully at the historical record, the tradition started exploring other schemas which included the System Schema and the Pattern Schema. The exploration of the Pattern schema led to what is today called Structuralism. These other schemas have themselves become intellectual threads within the Western tradition and their proponents look at everything they consider though the lens of the Schema they have chosen as the Key to understanding the universe. At this time in our tradition these three schemas are the most important: Pattern, Form, and System. And in fact, there is the work of George Klir 1 in Systems Theory that combines all of these schemas into a single approach to understanding Systems which is Structural and explains Forms within the System Context. And this approach that combines various schemas together is the most advanced Systems Theory available because it has embedded in it in a highly integrated fashion all three schemas: Pattern giving Structure to Systems that explain Forms as objects within the System. However, the existence of this advanced Systems Theory that integrates various schemas together raises the question as to what other schemas might exist and what is the relationship between schemas that they can be integrated in this way. General Schemas Theory attempts to answer this question and by that provide a wider context for understanding what Systems, Forms and Patterns really are as ways of looking at things which are essentially different from each other. Our answer to this question after an extensive review of the literature looking for different schemas that actually exist within our tradition independently of each other is what we call Schemas Theory based on the S-prime hypothesis. The S-prime hypothesis names the existing schemas that were found in this review and gives their order in relation to each ohter and also gives a rule by which they are connected to an organizing feature in Mathematics. In order to create a scientific theory of what Schemas are and how they work we need to connect that to Mathematics somehow. And, in this case, we make that connection through the very basic mathematical phenomena of dimensionality. We are bold and assert that there is a specific set of Schemas and no more and we say how they are related to each other, i.e. in a hierarchy of different scopes, and then we connect these schemas to specific dimensions. And the reason for this is to give a hypothesis that can be refuted so that our endeavor can be deemed scientific and not merely philosophical. Our approach is informed by Philosophy of Science2 that says that theories need to be refutable because they cannot be proven in a positive manner but only disproven. This was the position of Karl Popper3 which we accept. By making General Schemas Theory scientific in this way we hope to inaugurate a new field of research into schemas-in-general that identifies them, and attempts to classify their differences and similarities with each other and understand their role in science. This important role of schemas in science has not yet 1 Klir, George J, and Doug Elias. Architecture of Systems Problem Solving. Boston, MA: Springer US, 2003. 2 http://www.nbi.dk/natphil/bib/nickbib.html 3 Popper, Karl R. The Logic of Scientific Discovery. London: Routledge, 2010. Popper, Karl R, and William W. Bartley. Postscript to the Logic of Scientific Discovery. London: Routledge, 1992. http://www.nbi.dk/natphil/bib/nickbib.html 3 been appreciated enough within Philosophy of Science. Schemas have been assumed to exist within the tradition without being focused on as a subject of interest in their own right. Their role in our Scientific and Technological understanding of phenomena has not yet been fully appreciated. And we assert that when this role of schema within Science and Technology is appreciated then this will itself constitute a revolution in our thinking about how Science and Technology works because it is dependent on Schematization in a fundamental way. But we can only understand that by exploring a specific set of schemas and their relations to each other such as the S-prime hypothesis posits. Because then by treating schemas systematically we can then look for anomalies that would then advance our understandings of Schemas in general. Our belief is that there are many different schemas used by Science and Technology and that they have complex relations to each other. But we can only unearth and explore that complexity by starting with a single set of schemas and looking at those schemas as a set themselves as if together they were a systematic in their interrelations. But it is a meta-system in the sense that it contains not just the System but other types of schemas that are different from the System schema such as Pattern, and Form. These various schemas have complex interrelations with each other that need to be understood in order to provide a basic foundation for how Science and Technology works. These schemas are projected on the noumena that exist behind the appearances of experience. We must bring these noumena that are schematized as the basis of the appearances into an intelligible formation that our understanding can rely on to understand different characteristics of the phenomena that would not appear otherwise. If we did not schematize the noumena before we did anything else to extract information about them then there would be no phenomena to analyze in terms of kinds, individuals and their significance. We must mention that noumena are themselves hypothetical construct introduced by Kant as something that he did not believe really existed. It was a talking point given as a hypostasis along with the other Transcendentals of Kantian Philosophy which were the Soul and God. 4 The S-prime hypothesis posits by abduction that there are ten schemas that exist in a hierarchy of scopes in a specific order which are: facet, monad, pattern, form, system, meta- system, domain, world, kosmos and pluriverse. In other words these schemas are nested into each other yet they each have a completely different organization from each other and the system schema is only one within the whole set. Thus, we have gone up a level of abstraction from systems theory to explore what may be Other than the system, and we are specifying those others and we find them to be different templates of intelligibility for things within spacetime. But the S-prime hypothesis goes further and specifies that one of the differences between schemas is the dimensionality that they cover. We posit a rule that there are two dimensions per schema and two schemas per dimension. This means that each schema operates at a certain pair of dimensions and that the schemas overlap in their coverage of the dimensions from -1 to 9. So, for instance, the Facet dimension operates at dimensions -1 and 0. While the Monad schema operates at dimensions 0 and 1. That means that monads can either be zero dimensional points or strings. Monads are seen to be Matorids and thus embody dimensional independence so that both the facets and the monads are all independent of each other at their specific scopes. A monad is the least separable unit that can be isolated, and facets are non-isolatable like Quarks. Thus, monads can stand for atoms, particles but quarks are facets because they are never seen alone in phenomenal existence that we explore through experiments. The Pattern schema operates at dimensions 1 and 2. Patterns are made up of monads as their content. Forms operate at dimensions 2 and 3. They contain patterned content which they encapsulate in a shape or outline within a surface or they appear as a three dimensional solid object. Systems operate at dimensions 3 and 4. They may be configurations of forms that are static or they can be dynamically changing in time 5 so that time becomes the fourth dimension in this case. Systems are seen here as sets of gestalts that are coherent and thus the objects are the forms within a system that are related to each other on the background of all the other forms within the system and the system ground or boundary. The next schema is problematic because there is no single name for it in our language. We tentatively call it a Meta-system, but what we signify by that is what is beyond the boundary or ground of the system proper. The meta-system can also be called an OpenScape because it is what is open to the horizon from the boundary of the System within the fieldscape that surrounds the system that offers a panorama. Systems and Meta- systems are inverse duals of each other. And we connect the System to the restricted economy of Batallie while we associate the Meta-system with what he calls the general economy in the book Accursed Share4. Meta-systems are anomalous because they are discontinuous while the system boundary or ground is assumed to be continuous. They are dis-unified and detotalized while the System is assumed to be totalized and unified. Everything about the Meta-system is the inverse dual of the System. Deleuze calls them Ideal or Divine Games that he contrasts to normal games. Since Meta-systems do not have a unified name within our tradition we can see them as environments, ecosystems, situations, contexts, ambience, milieu of the system. But the key is that they operate at dimensions 4 and 5 and thus have an extra time dimension or a four-dimensional space dimension that they add to the first dimension of time that is expressed at the System level schematic scope. Thus, in real-time systems there is a round robin cycle that gives processing time to different tasks that are running and this is the expression of the fifth time that is different from parallel time operations and makes them possible in the absence of separate hardware to run the tasks upon. But this fifth time may also be the hardware dispersion of tasks on different processors. The point is that this fifth dimension of time is orthogonal to the different parallel timelines within the real-time system allowing many separate parallel tasks to operate simultaneously. When we go on to the Domain schema we find it operating at dimensions 5 and 6. It is a rigorous and disciplined set of perspectives. On the other hand, the World schema operates at dimensions 6 and 7 and it contains all possible perspectives within a singular all encompassing ultimate horizon of human experience. The Kosmos schema operates at dimensions 7 and 8. It is associated with the physical universe since the advent of the Metaphysical Era with Thales and Anaximander. And beyond that we posit is the Pluriverse Schema that operates at dimensions 8 and 9. The Pluriverse is at the limits of our ability to schematize. What lies beyond it is String Theory in the tenth dimension of which there are five that are unified into M-theory in the eleventh dimension. But String Theory and M-Theory are unschematized, and thus we have a hard time understanding them because we have no convenient schemas to fit them into to make them intelligible. Beyond M-theory is F-theory which is even stranger in that it has orthogonal physical timelines that are generated spontaneously within it when it is formulated. Physics as a discipline has a hard time thinking about time anyway, and so does not know what to do with orthogonal physical timelines. But if they exist then they break the hold of Metaphysical Era on us which imposes a linear concept of time in which all the moments of time whether Past, Present or Future upon a single timeline. 4 Bataille, Georges. The Accursed Share. New York: Zone Books, 1988. Three volumes. 6 This is the entire hierarchy of schemas that are recognized by the S-prime hypothesis and these are their associated dimensions according to our theory. By specifying the scopes of the schemas and identifying specifically the dimensions that they operate at we can then attempt to phenomenologically verify this hypothesis. The question becomes whether there are any gaps in the nesting of this hierarchy of schemas? Are there any schemas left out of consideration that are significant to our understanding of the experience? Are the limits of schematization well defined? What can we say about the differences in organization of these schemas and how do they themselves operate as a system or meta-system through their mutual relations. We can consider them systematically and focus on their relations with each other. But we recognize that what we are considering systematically here is not a form but schemas themselves operating together at different dimensions as descriptions of various orders of spacetime. And because they are all different they are open to anomalies within experience so they also form a meta-systemic field from another viewpoint that orients us to the horizons of our experience. Because we are discussing Phenomenology as a way of approaching the validation of the S-prime hypothesis we wish to invoke a specific phenomenology. We will use as a touchstone the phenomenology of Romano in At the Heart of the Reason5. One reason to use this phenomenology is that it is the first attempt to include within Phenomenology proper both System and Structure as fundamental organizing ideas. And so in many ways it is similar to Klir’s approach which combines Formalism with concepts of Structure and System to produce a mathematically sophisticated Systems Theory. Romano takes phenomenology that is traditionally focused on the Form schema and adds to that a concern with Structure and System. Another source we would like to appeal to is Puntel’s Structure and Being 6 . It is the first attempt to produce a unified theory of Being in Analytical Philosophy on the order of Heidegger’s Being and Time7 but rooted in Wittgenstein’s approach taken in the Tractatus which is an worked example of Frege’s suggested approach to Logical foundations that he suggested in his Logical Investigations8. Puntel considers Being as a Logical Systemic Structure. Thus there are a few scholarly works in different realms of philosophy that have recently done what Klir has attempted by combining schemas at a philosophical level in both the Continental and the Analytical philosophical traditions which gives a possible foundation for our theory of how schemas can be combined in a nested fashion which is explained phenomenologically and metaphysically in these other works that support Klir’s original insight that schemas need to be interrelated to produce a more powerful approach that is transdisciplinary. We should make the point that forms are the basis for proofs. But where patterns are the basis of explanations, systems are the basis for description. Meta-systems merely 5 Romano, Claude. At the Heart of Reason. Evanston, Illinois : Northwestern University Press, 2015. 6 Puntel, Lorenz B. Structure and Being: A Theoretical Framework for a Systematic Philosophy. University Park, Pa: Pennsylvania State Univ. Press, 2013. 7 Heidegger, Martin, John Macquarrie, and Edward Robinson. Being and Time. Malden: Blackwell, 2013. Heidegger, Martin, and Joan Stambaugh. Being and Time: A Translation of Sein Und Zeit. Albany, NY: State University of New York Press, 1996. 8 Frege, Gottlob. Logical Investigations. Oxford: B. Blackwell, 1977. 7 indicate. Thus when you combine the schemas you get a much more powerful means of approaching a subject with a greater arsenal of methods that otherwise would not be as compelling if these schemas are taken alone. We should also make the point that Formal Systems are composed based on three aspects of Being which are Truth, Presence and Identity. Identity is a First, Truth is a Second, Presence is a Third and Reality is a Fourth in terms of the Philosophical Principles of Peirce and Fuller. Formal Systems are based on an axiomatic platform that delimits the elements that can exist in the Formal System. The relations between these three aspects gives us the properties of Clarity, Consistency and Completeness. When the Formal System is confronted by Reality then we get three other properties which are Coherence, Verifiability and Validation. This confrontation between the model and reality gives significance and meaning to the Formal System. For this Formal System to become structural then we need to consider the organization of the content which is different from the organization of the forms that control and encase the content. As we have said Hegel demands that we reconcile the differences between Form and Content. But we can say that also with the Context of the Formal System which is a meta-system. The structure comes from taking apart the Formal System and looking at the possible combinations of the elements that make up the content of the Formal System. Different combinations of elements lead to different capabilities and capacities that are built up one at a time from the basic elements of content within the Formal System. Based on changes to the Axiomatic Platform different capacities and capabilities are actualized for various configurations of the Formal System. It turns out that there are meta-systems both inside and outside the Formal Structural System. But as pure formalism or pure structuralism we do not get a feeling for how these Formal Structural Systems really work in a pragmatic sense and for that we need to explore them phenomenologically. To study Schemas Theory we need phenomenology because it is a way that we process experience in terms of handling anti-aspects such as difference, fiction, absence and illusion in order to produce identity, truth, presence and reality and we need to appeal to experience in order to understand how it works. But we must as Romano does combine this phenomenology with hermeneutics as Heidegger suggested in order to be able to understand the meaning of the characteristics of experience associated with schemas. Ontology is relevant because when we process experience we are concerned with how that changes what we can see that lies as noumena beyond sensory perception. Schemas are Ontological, that is inherently philosophical in a metaphysical sense because they are a priori projections on the manifolds of experience. Schemas do not exist as things in the phenomenal world, but only as part of the chain of processing experience within us. Schemas are not ontic like various phenomenal thresholds we find as emergent, i.e. non-reducible, in Science like: quark, particle, atom, molecule, macro-molecule, cell, organ, organism, socialiality, ecosystem, gaia. Rather schemas are projected on to these various entities found at these ontic emergent levels as different ways of understanding their constitution within experience. Dialectics is also relevant because we must move from looking through the lens of one schema to looking through the lens of another schema in order to compare and contrast them. Thus, there are dialectical movements 8 (conceptual leaps from schema to schema) involved in our attempts to understand the nature of schemas that we project on experience. Schemas Theory is in the province of Metaphysics because it is a way of looking at the things in experience that renders them intelligible and different specific organizations of spacetime. They are templates for our pre-understanding of things prior to any specific dimensional phenomena. We posit that the schematization of any given phenomena is first given in Passive Synthesis to our experience and that we normally accept that without a second thought. But occasionally we realize that a phenomena can be better schematized in a different fashion and so we following Lawson in Closure9 open back up the material of the schematization and re-schematize it in a different way and then close it back up repackaged as understood through a different schematic template. This is an arduous process and so we only engage in that type of repackaging in a different template of intelligibility if there is a big gain from so doing. Opening up the already closed material of experience and re-schematizing it is an arduous task because that is an active re-synthesis of an already given passive synthesis that we had to do no work to receive. However, it does happen, and it is undertaken when the schemas that were originally assigned unconsciously do not fit well what we understand concerning the nature of the phenomena under investigation. But normally we have only two different schemas to choose from for any given phenomena we might wish to re- schematize. However, it is possible by analogy to present any phenomena as organized based on various schemas that are near to it in its intrinsic dimensionality. This highlights the point that schemas are projections onto phenomena, but they are projected initially unconsciously and that is one of the reasons that a separate science of schematization has not been developed before this. It was a surprise but I could not find anyone who had developed the idea of schemas before in other disciplines such as Architecture or Fine Art Criticism where one might expect such a discipline to have spontaneously formed in the process of analyzing these disciplines internally because they are so focused on the relations between various schemas that appear in Art or in Architecture. But the proto-schemas theory of these disciplines is just as disorganized as it is in Science in general and Technology specifically. That disorganization can be seen in the mention of various schemas in Wittgenstein’s Philosophical Grammar10. They are just not thematized as schemas and thought of as a set with any similarities to each other. To do that we need to understand that we are operating on a higher level of abstraction where the difference is what counts and the more different the better. The similarity of the schemas are in terms of function as templates of intelligibility of phenomena. Here it is difference that is prized in organization of these schemas and their relation is one of orthogonality to each other. What seems obvious once it is realized that there exist in our tradition different schemas is to consider 9 Lawson, Hilary. Closure: A Story of Everything. Florence : Taylor and Francis, 2005. 10 Wittgenstein, Ludwig, Rush Rhees, and Anthony Kenny. Philosophical Grammar: Part I, the Proposition, and Its Sense, Part Ii, on Logic and Mathematics. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005. 9 thinking about them systematically which has never been done previously as far as I can tell by survey of the literature. The closest I came to finding anything of that kind was an article that recorded the conversation with Christopher Alexander reported by a colleague11 of his in which there was a diagram that describes schemas. I was very excited to find this one definitive precursor to General Schemas Theory. This diagram is a description of the phenomenology of experience at the level of awareness. It describes schematic loops that are like drives in Lacanian theory in as much as they are autonomous cycles that operate behind the filters at various levels of the processing of experience. Those filters are seen as the comb-like elements just before the Now point line in the diagram. The filters are feelers like those in an insect that pick up the sensory experience that is immediate and funnel them into the processing by a schematic loop which attempts to categorize the incoming phenomea based on previous experience in order to make a connection to the associated action 11 Charles W. Rusch, “On Understanding Awareness”, Journal of Aesthetic Education 4. no. 4 (Oct. 1970):58; Cited in Sensory Design J.M. Malnar and F. Vodvarka, U. Minnesota Press 2004 10 complex that is the learned response. Notice that Schemas Theory operates on the Formal Level. Once the schematization occurs there is then a moment of understanding in which the phenomena is comprehended as a known configuration in spacetime. This produces a response in action toward the phenomena. However, the most fundamental work of schematization is to allow us to anticipate in our action what will be required as a response to given situations that occur. And this is why the schematization is part of the passive synthesis and is for the most part unconscious. There is a perceptual filter which is looking for specific types of cues in our experience and it projects them onto experience in anticipation that experience will coincide to our expectations. Notice that Linear time is assumed in this diagram. Notice also that the Passive Syntheses that are described by Deleuze in Difference and Repetition 12 and Logic of Sense 13 that are taken from Heidegger and Kant but ultimately from Husserl are mentioned. For Deleuze there is Imagination as a first synthesis (Verfallen, anti-existentials including confoundedness or ambiguity, curiosity, and idle-talk) relates to the present and comprehends immediate experience in the Present. The Present in its different scopes Deleuze associates with Chronos. Then second there is the synthesis (befindlichkeit, thrownness) of Memory that stores up what we have learned and then makes it available to us at a later time related to the Past. After that there is Thought which is the third synthesis (verstehen, projection) that makes what has occurred comprehensible and relates it to the future. Past and Future Deleuze associates with Aion. But Deleuze implicitly makes the point that there is a prior Zeroth synthesis before imagination which is gives us sense that is both meaning and sensation together. We associate this prior fourth synthesis that appears in Wild Being and that is associated with intensity and implicit order with Rede and the Mitsein and as a moment with the CoNow. This fourth synthesis prior to imagination we might associate with Greek Kairos14 which is the right moment in Time. Deleuze associates this forth moment of time that is aspectual with expression as used in Spinoza. However, on rare occasions experience may surprise us15. When it does it takes more processing power in our brain to classify anomalous experiences. But from studying these surprises we learn that first we schematize, i.e. we project a spacetime configuration of the phenomena, and then after that is accepted and validated by our immediate experience then we classify the phenomena in general terms by its kind. After that we may then see individual characteristics of the phenomena appear and then the last thing we do is assign a significance to the experience of the phenomena. The point is that schematization in spacetime comes first because it is in that process where we recognize the organization of the phenomena such that we can identify its 12 Deleuze, Gilles. Difference and Repetition. London : Bloomsbury, 2014. 13 Deleuze, Gilles, Contantin V. Boundas, Mark Lester, and Charles J. Stivale. Logic of Sense. London : Bloomsbury Academic, 2015. 14 https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Kairos 15 Kagan, Jerome. Surprise, Uncertainty and Mental Structures. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard U.P., 2002. https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Kairos 11 substance, i.e. its coherence as something distinct within spacetime. We identify that it has substance, i.e. identifiable distinctness within spacetime, before we determine the kind of thing it is, or its individual characteristics, or its significance for us. Notice that Schematization occurs in the zeroth synthesis of Deleuze. Note that in terms of the syntheses kinds are associated with memory, individuals with imagination, and thought with signification. This is because there is a difference between surprise and normal processing not associated with surprise. The three syntheses are traditionally thought of as not having any relation to surprise in Kant and Heidegger where these syntheses are elaborated. It is assumed that the individual comes first then its kind and then its significance. But in surprise the general comes before the particular which is not how things are described in the philosophical tradition that forgets the possibility of surprise. In surprise we see the schematization at work that is normally hidden because first of all something has to be recognized as being there. And we can easily associate this with a zeroth synthesis of sense. We sense that something is there even though we have no idea what it is. Later if we have time we identify its kind, then we fill in individual characteristics and even later fill in significance. Deleuze has essentially discovered the chain of processing of surprising events by the brain. If it is not in a hurry then we can imagine that the individual thing comes first, and after that its kind before its signification is deduced. The order of activation of surprise is what is best for survival in uncertain times. It is the way that reflex reactions are able to react most efficiently with the least amount of information at each critical stage of the process of reacting and then recognizing controlled by the unconscious. And so we use the order of surprise as the way to understand how the faculties operate together and it is the way that reveals that schematization is first. But it also allows us to associate it closely with the zeroth synthesis of sense in Difference and Repetition. 12 There are many different uses for the term “Schema” in our tradition16 and Umberto Eco explains them in his book Kant and the Platypus17. In that book he describes ‘Mathematical and Geometric Schemas’. That is what we mean when we use the term Schema here rather than its myriad other possible meanings. It is the schematization of spacetime that is understood in a Mathematical or Geomatical way in this case by relating the templates of understanding that are so different from each other to the dimension of the thing that has been schematized in that particular organization. The thing schematized is ontic at some emergent threshold of phenomena, but the schematization itself is ontological in that it has to do with the projection of Being upon the manifold of experience with a certain organization that is a priori which we see first in the formal schematic loop. There are other more primal schematizations at work at the emotional, kinesthetic and imaginal levels which we are not considering here. These are intrinsic to our finitude in as much as we have emotions as mammals and we are embodied and so are acting in spacetime ourselves with a body schema that orients us to our immediate environment. The Imaginal level has to do with Jungian archetypes that we project onto experience that are ingrained in human experience by the fact we have fathers and mothers and siblings and other social and cultural relations that are fundamental to whom we are as finite humans that are common to all human beings. But because here we are concerned with 16 https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/schema/ https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Schema_(psychology) 17 Eco, Umberto, and Alastair McEwen. Kant and the Platypus: Essays on Language and Cognition. London : Vintage Digital, 2014. https://plato.stanford.edu/entries/schema/ https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Schema_(psychology) 13 Science we are specifically focusing on the Formal Schematic loop, and what we are saying is that it does not just process things in the Form Schema, but also other schemas like Pattern, and System, as well as OpenScapes and Domains or Worlds. Once a successful schematization has occurred and we have based our anticipatory action on it and that action was successful in the Pragmatic sense of the term used by Peirce then that Schematization and its use in our interaction with specific things in spacetime is encoded into our memory and projected in the moment through the imagination which is producing the schemas as one of the side effects of its action of giving us a remembrance of the events in our lives on which we base our anticipations of events though the understanding of what is happening in thought. It needs to be mentioned that schemas are what makes sense of our environment and our relation to things in our environment. And at this Zeroth synthesis level there is a nondual fusion of sense as sensation and sense as making sense in terms of meaning. We sense what is there in a gross way in a blink and react to it perhaps unconsciously as a “snake”. All we know unconsciously is that something is there that fits the schema of snake form with its patterning. But if we get to consciousness then we discover that it is a rope as a kind of thing. Our reaction was a false positive but perhaps it is something we should react to just based on its essence, perhaps it is a noose that we are being threatened with. But then if we have more time we become aware of the individual characteristics of the rope and see that it is actually frayed and will not support our weight. But finally in thought we perhaps recognize the situation as a confrontation with vigilantes. It is very important that in the case of surprise we go from the most general to the most specific in a series of steps different from the sequence that Heidegger and Kant guessed would apply to normal perception and cognition where there is no surprise. But where there is no surprise there is also no information. The key idea here is that in the case of surprise the schematic Zeroth synthesis becomes more apparent and the order of the other syntheses change. Of course, the most intense surprise is elicited by the Emergent Event. And in the Emergent Event there is the advent of a Face of the world combining all the different kinds of Being into the same tableau, as for instance in the Trojan horse entering Troy, which is the proto-typical Emergent Event in our tradition. When there is no surprise then it appears as if there are just three syntheses operating and imagination comes before memory. But when there is surprise then we get a glimpse of the Zeroth Synthesis of Sense that is implicated and intense revealing Wild Being. And we get the Memory that allows us to recognize Kinds before Imagination that allows us to see individuals in all their particularity and haecceity. Thought in both cases is the last synthesis in the series. Imagination is the synthesis that allows us to see Sensory Perception of Individuals. Memory is what allows us to recall and recognize Kinds. Thought allows us to project the intentional constitution of meanings of things. For Deleuze Thought is a failed synthesis related to the Empty Form of Time which breaks open to reveal Ideas which then refer back to the Zeroth Synthesis which is virtual. Imagination produces Actualities. Memory gives us a sense of Identity (First, isolata), Truth (Second, relata), Presence (Third, continua) and Reality (Fourth, synergy) in other words it gives us access to the aspects of Being as a basis for comprehending Kinds 14 by which we classify things and which sets up our expectations based on past experience of these various kinds of things. Thought is our attempt at understanding the world in which we live but it also projects the constitution of the meaning of things in experience. For Bergson in Matter and Memory18 there is really only Imagination and Thought and Memory comes first which Imagination trails with the past overwhelming the present. Bergson’s Cone of Memory on the Plane of Perception where S is image of Body19 For Deleuze Past and Future are collapsed together into Aion, with the Present being at various scopes of Chronos. But he ignores the fact that Kairos the other form of Greek time might represent the CoNow that is implied by having a Zeroth Synthesis. Bergson sees Memory as the realm of Paramedian Pure Being and the Imagination as the Present of Sensory Perception as the realm of Heraclitan Becoming. This means that Thought is relegated to Hyper Being as the expansion of Being in the World into the realm of possibilities and thus the realm of intension beyond extension seen as either static or in flux. This means that the virtual realm of Sense that is the Zeroth Synthesis which provides the Ideas as problematics is then related to Wild Being which is the contraction of being-in-the-world toward the singularity of Ultra Being. The fact that the two central syntheses exchange places in the event of surprise only means that in the case of surprise that Being comes first rather than Becoming while in the normal course of events flux Sensory Perception is first and stasis as Memory of Kinds comes later. In this case Being and Becoming are only changing places. STOP 18 Bergson, Henri, Nancy M. Paul, and Mary E. Dowson. Matter and Memory. Kent Solis Press, 2014. 19 https://brocku.ca/MeadProject/Bergson/Bergson_1911b/Bergson_1911_03.html https://brocku.ca/MeadProject/Bergson/Bergson_1911b/Bergson_1911_03.html 15 Notice that this diagram refers to the band of awareness. Awareness is different from intentional consciousness which is related to the Active synthesis we produce while Awareness is related primarily to the information processed by our unconscious to produce Passive Syntheses of things presented to us within our experienced already comprehended and understood as the basis of action, perhaps already acted upon in a reflex action that comes to consciousness as the basis of further action. Awareness is not something that was addressed by Phenomenology originally in the work of Husserl. It was added by Gurwitsch 20 who considered the margins and fringes of consciousness and to some extent the action of the unconscious underwriting conscious experience. One of the major contributions of Continental Philosophy is to integrate our understanding of the Unconscious into Phenomenology as we can see happening with Merleau-Ponty and especially Deleuze in his Transcendental Empiricism21. Romano’s way of dealing with the unconscious is to introduce the idea of System and Structure into our understanding of Phenomenology going beyond mere formalism of earlier phenomenology incorporating some of the insights of Heidegger to produce a more adcanced phenomenological description of experience. Puntel does the same thing in order to ground our understanding of Being from an Analytic perspective. There is no doubt that the projection of Schemas is a part of our projection of Being in general which Heidegger tried to capture in the concept of dasein (being-there or being-in-the-world) in Being and Time. It is seen as the part of the human existence that is projecting Being on everything and thus giving rise to the world in which it lives as a coherent umwelt (environment to exist within, i.e., a meta- system). The projection of Being is seen by Heidegger as an ecstasy and he separates that ecstasy as existence from the Being of things that are projected in that ecstasy. Thus, he differentiates Being from beings and this is called Ontological Difference. The projection of Being is called ‘ontological’ while the things that have being, the beings in the world, are seen as ‘ontic’. But dasein has a special place because it is also a being-in-the-world at the same time as it is ecstatically projecting the world as a whole itself that appears as environment for its own action within time. Both Puntel and Romano are taking from Heidegger major points and then using them to construct a story concerning Phenomenology and Hermeneutics on the one hand or Being in general on the other. Being is seen by Puntel as an abstract concept that organizes our experience from the point of view of Analytical philosophy based on Wittgenstein and Frege in a way similar to Heidegger’s framing of Ontology in Being and Time. The fact that an Analytic philosopher would make this kind of concession can be seen as the proof of Heideggers dominance of Philosophy since the French Renaissance in philosophy after World War II in which Heideggerian themes are dominant. But our point is that all these adaptations of Heidegger’s approach toward 20 Gurwitsch, Aron. The Field of Consciousness. Pittsburgh, Pa: Duquesne Univ. Press, 1964. Gurwitsch, Aron, and Lester E. Embree. Marginal Consciousness. Athens, Ohio: Ohio University Press, 1985. Gurwitsch, Aron, and Lester Embree. Phenomenology and the Theory of Science. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1979. Embree, Lester E. Gurwitsch's Relevancy for Cognitive Science. Dordrecht: Springer, 2005. Gurwitsch, Aron, and Jorge García-Gómez. Constitutive Phenomenology in Historical Perspective. New York: Springer, 2010. 21 Rölli, Marc, and Peter Hertz-Ohmes. Gilles Deleuze's Transcendental Empiricism: From Tradition to Difference. Edinburgh : Edinburgh University Press, 2016. 16 understanding Being has implicitly within them a place for Schemas Theory to help understand the nature of our relation to things we find within spacetime as having an a priori organization that acts as a template for our interaction with them at a given dimensional level, and that these templates of intelligibility of phenomena based on schematization is a basic part of our processing of experience as suggested by Rusch based on his conversation with Christopher Alexander one fine day that we are lucky that he saw fit to document. This is because it is one of the few instances in the literature that I can find that addresses Schematization directly as an element in the processing of sensory experience bringing them to cognitive comprehension. But this digest is of course rooted in Kantian Critical Philosophy where the Schemata were first proposed as the way that Categories get related to Time as they are applied to manifolds in experience22. But in Kant space and time were absolute singulars and were not related to each other and so the application of schemas to categories could be seen as a separate process from the differentiation of the categories themselves and their application to experience. But we know from Einstein now that spacetime is a single singular and not two. And so, like Cassirer in Philosophy of Symbolic Forms 23 we need to unify Categorization with Schematization so that schemas become the central part of our processing of experience which is considered now primarily dynamic and not static. It is only static in the fourth dimension while it is dynamic in the processing of sensory perception in the third dimension running along with time as the fourth dimension. Kant is the one who said that System Hypothesis is necessary for the pursuit of Science, we must assume that phenomena are ultimately coherent in order to make Science possible. So, Kant is the one to elevate System schema to a prominent role within our tradition. Bertalanffy24 was attempting to make concrete Kant’s suggestion in his third critique, i.e., the Critique of Judgement25. Hegel in his Preface to the Phenomenology of Spirit26 did the same thing with Structure, generative patterning of content, in that he demanded that we reconcile the content of our categories with their Form and vice versa. He said we cannot afford to merely project arbitrary Forms on experience regardless of the content that they are seen to contain. Rather Forms and Content both need to mutually be reconciled with each other and this is precisely what leads to Structuralism because that is the way that the content is considered to interact with itself within its projected formal container. Content is patterned and the pattern gives rise to structure which is seen when it subsists although form is transformed. Changes in Content as well are called Transmutations. Basically, Pattern and System schemas are seen as the content and context of the forms. But once we identify the Pattern that has structure exhibited under changes then we can also consider that the System also has a nucleus that persists under metamorphoses, i.e., Transmogrifications or Transystematizations. 22 https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Schema_(Kant) 23 Cassirer, Ernst. The Philosophy of Symbolic Forms. London: Yale University, 1973. 24 Bertalanffy, Ludwig . General System Theory: Foundations, Development, Applications. , 2015. 25 Kant, Immanuel. The Critique of Judgement. Lanham: Dancing Unicorn Books, 2017. 26 Hegel, Georg W. F, and J B. Baillie. The Phenomenology of Spirit (the Phenomenology of Mind). Adansonia Press USA, 2018. Hegel, G W. F, A V. Miller, and J N. Findlay. Phenomenology of Spirit. Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2013. https://www.wikiwand.com/en/Schema_(Kant) 17 This brings us to the point that Forms have essences, Patterns have structures, and so we need a term for the “essence” of a System which we call here its nucleus. It is extraordinary that Systems are not yet seen as having their on nucleus as a type of ‘essential formation’ specific to the system schema. Part of the reason that this is ‘systemic essence’ missing from the tradition is that we do not recognize the Meta- system as a proper schema within our tradition and this schema remains fragmented with many different names. A transystematization, as metamorphosis, would occur in a Meta-systemic context because the System would fundamentally or essentially change its constituents from one manifestation to another within the meta-systemic context. For instance a System might transmogrify into its dual the Anti-System going through a moment as a Non-system. To admit that there were “essences” for systems would to be to admit that Meta-systems also exist. We call the “essence” of a meta- system a locus. In other words, all schemas have their own “essences” which are all different from each other and thus deserve their own names for the internal relations that subsist within the various schemata. We should differentate between the General Abstract organization of a Schematic template, a Schema, and something that takes on that organization by calling it a schemata. This is like the difference made by Heidegger of ontological difference between Being and beings, or Ontological and ontic. And from a Phenomenological point of view this realization is fundamental. Phenomenology has focused on Essence Perception as its basis since Husserl. But Phenomenology must recognize that there is also Structure intuition, Nucleus intuition, and Locus intuition associated with the Pattern, System and Meta-system schemas as well as Essence perception associated with Form. From a phenomenological perspective this realization is a huge breakthrough that Romano does not even recognize. It brings back a focus on Internal Relations that had become taboo in modern philosophy since Russell and recognizes that all Schemas have associated internal relations between their features and characteristics within their organizations. Romano wants to incorporate the System and Structure into phenomenology as part of its own internal organization but he does not thematize the fact that we must move on from Essence Perception of Forms to Structure Perception of Patterns and Nucleus Perception of Systems or Locus Perception of Meta-systems. This bears on whether we recognize what Hegel calls internal relations within schematized things as well as external relations between schematized things in experience. Internal relations are between the Attributes or Properties of the thing rather than its external relations with other things. Since Russell there has been a prejudice against recognizing internal relations in Analytical Philosophy due to his rejection of the philosophy of Bradley. However, from a phenomenological point of view as established by Husserl everything in experience has both an internal and external horizon that may be explored as we become more acquainted with the thing as it appears in spacetime. The reality of a thing is substantiated when it has an infinite horizon to explore internally. The identity of a thing is substantiated when it has an infinite horizon to explore externally. The identity of a thing externally is its difference of kind plus its Haecceity. Reality outward is the projection of the Transcendent World by Dasein as discussed by Heidegger in Being and Time. Both internally and externally we find out about the truth of a thing by looking at its 18 relations between parts of itself internally or with other things externally. Presence occurs internally as substantiality. Presence occurs externally as our consciousness of the thing. The things of our experience are constituted through the projection of the aspects as the content of Being upon them. The fifth aspect is probably Meaning which is the target of the Intentional Morphe when if forms the content of the Hyle. Meaning internally bubbles up from the emptiness within the thing that we approach through its ultimate internal horizon. Significance externally flows from the Void outside the thing that we approach through the ultimate external horizon. Phenomenology has focused on “essence perception” or “eidetic intuition” in its development of the characterization of things as noema. Noema are in contrast to Noesis which is the modality of consciousness by which the essence of the thing is seen. It is part of the structure of consciousness that it is intentional and that means it is projecting meaning on experience but at the same time it is receiving intuitions of the essences of the things in experience as a platform on which it is constructing this meaning inwardly 27 or significance outwardly of the thing experienced. The Intentional Morphe forms the Hyle of experience, but it is impossible to separate out these two ideal functions within experience and so something mostly intentional with a little hyle is called noetic, while something mostly hylic with a little intention is called noematic. Essences that we intuit are noematic. When we look at something we see its noematic nucleus within experience as its external appearance. But the internal relations within that nucleus is the essence of that thing which are a set of dynamic constraints on its attributes that perdure over time as we see the thing from multiple perspectives with always some part of it hidden to us. It is the nature of things in spacetime that they are mostly opaque to our inspection. So to get an overview of them we have to look at them from different perspectives over time. The relations between the attributes of a thing have internal relations just like different things have various external relations in extension beyond themselves with other things in our experience. Analytic Philosophy has concentrated on extension and have up until recently rejected intension which leads to possible worlds as developed by Wittgenstein in Tractatus28 but came out of the philosophy of Leibniz but has been developed more recently by Saul Kripke29 and David Lewis30. Both internal relations and external relations are Seconds (relata) in the Philosophical Principles as defined by C.S. Peirce. We are then led to ask what are the Firsts in each case. The Hyle within the Morphe produced as a Form by Intention that gives it meaning is obviously a First that is inside the Form as Content. However, we may ask what the equivalent to the Hyle outside the form in the Context it occupies and there is no obvious answer to this in Phenomenology. All we can say is that there are ‘appearances’ tied to the thing seen 27 See Geode Theory of Meaning by the author. See Intratextuality: Exploring The Unconscious Of The Text -- Data Mining To Understand The Sources In The Unconscious, page 20 28 Wittgenstein, Ludwig, David Pears, and B F. McGuinness. Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Oxfordshire, England: Routledge, 2014. 29 Kripke, Saul A. Naming and Necessity. Cape Town: Wiley, 2015. 30 Lewis, David K. On the Plurality of Worlds. Malden (Mass.: Blackwell Publishers, 2013. Lewis, David. Counterfactuals. Hoboken: Wiley, 2013. Lewis, David K. Philosophical Papers: Vol. 1. New York: Oxford University Press, 1983. Lewis, David K. Papers in Philosophical Logic. Cambridge Cambridge University Press, 1998 19 externally that seems to cloak it and hide its reality as a ‘noumena’ from us. Appearances must be the external hyle that operate as Firsts in our experience. These external Hyle appear as sensations to perception. So internal Firsts as hyle are contents of Form and external hyle as appearances of formed content are discovered to be sensations within our perception of the object and from those perceptions we infer the relations that hold between those objects. We must also infer the relations between the various attributes of the thing we perceive by which we hypothesize the characteristics of its essence. We can see that phenomenology is completely adapted to the Form schema because we are talking about an intentional morphe positing the object and organizing its content hyle in our experience to produce meaning we might project on the substance of an object. What has not yet happened in any organized way is to scale this phenomenological story up to cover different schemas and their relations both internal and external but also focusing on their internal and external hyle and how those are experienced when we go beyond the safe territory of the form schema and its projection on the world of our experience. Deleuze in Difference and Repetition brings up the First that is prior to the Second of Internal Relations and calls them Internal Difference. Internal Difference is seen as Difference-in-itself beyond its relations of difference from other things or properties. Deleuze sees Internal Difference as hierarchical and related to discontinuities within those hierarchies. The formulation of Internal Difference is a breakthrough which allows us to formulate the idea of the Orthogonal Centering Dialectic. We can consider that the processing of Difference starts with External Difference and then uses Nihilistic duals that are orthogonal to each other to find the center which is the axis by which these duals related to each other. The Duals themselves form a series of meta-levels. At the first level there is a nihilistic difference between say Set and Mass ways of modeling difference. Sets have too much difference between their particulars. Masses have too much identity between their instances. But then at the Second meta- 20 level of nihilistic duality we see the relation between Being and Becoming in some form like the difference between Essence and Emergent Meta-systems that relate to the visions of Parmenides and Heraclitus with respect to the meaning of Being. If we go up to the Third meta-level we see the difference between the Esoteric kinds of Being which are the Hyper Being of Differance and Wild Being. If we go up to the fourth meta-level of artificial nihilistic extremes we get the difference between the singularity of Ultra Being and the ultimate transcendental horizon of the world. But normally we only need two meta-levels to identify the center of that is the axis that relates these two meta-levels of nihilistic duality. At that central axis we find Internal Difference that normally is some kind of deception where what is outside and what is inside do not match. Once we know that internal difference we can contrast it with the beginning external difference and then attempt to approximate nondual difference. It should be noted that the Divided Line of Plato and Aristotle can be seen as an example of the Internal Centering Dialectic. All we need to do is to make the central line at right angles to the lines that divide Ratio and Doxa to form an H where the division of Doxa is Void and the division of Ratio is Emptiness such that the cross- beam of the H is the utterly nondual Manifestation. Then one ether side of this cross Beam we can see Being and Becoming as duals at the second nihilistic level. The first level differentiates between Phornesis related to Dasein and Sophia related to Hiersein of Rilke. Heidegger ignores Hiersein and only includes Dasein as an external existential. He makes the error of ignoring the internal existential which was explored instead by Cassirer. Once we make the line of Manifestation that is the central crossing line dividing Ratio from Doxa into an orthogonal line connecting in an H emptiness that splits Ratio and Void that splits Doxa then we can see that the nihilistic duals in meta-levels higher that that merely extend the difference to Hyper Being toward the Transcendental World horizon on the one hand and to Wild Being toward the singularity of Ultra 21 Being on the other hand. Thus essentially the Divided Line of Plato and Aristotle is an example of the Orthogonal Centering Dialectic which is the means by which the aspects of Being within Doxa are transmogrified into the nonduals of Being within Ratio. When leave the level of Form we go down to the Pattern schema we recognize that the contents are themselves organized into structures beyond their encapsulation by forms. When we go up to the System schema we realize that forms collect together in various aggregates some of which may be considered a system. Those aggregates that can be called Systems will have a nucleus of their own internal relations that we discover when we explore their internal horizon. And we will see that by nucleus intuition. In fact, we can perhaps say that it is by considering a given thing and the possible perspectives on it as we move around it, then we are treating it systematically in our behavior and that is how we posit its noematic nucleus. In this case the nucleus of the thing derives its nature from its systematic exploration. And thus, we can derive the term for the ‘nucleus of the system’ as a whole from the term as used in Phenomenology for the externally viewed object seen from multiple perspectives as a ‘noematic nucleus’, such is the nesting of Form within the System as a figure on the background of the gestalt. Similarly, Systems are seen within Meta- systems and Meta-systems have their own internal horizon called a locus. We see the locus of the meta-system by a locus intuition that gives us insight into the arrangement of its characteristics as an environment for the System. The Locus of a Meta-system and the Nucleus of a System have to be different because their organizations are fundamentally different. The System is based on the continuity of the boundary or its ground and is unified and totalized in relation to that continuity. The Meta-system is based on discontinuity which shatter and fragment it and in relation to its horizon it is disunified and detotalized. It is a field which has niches for the systems it contains. It has sources that generate the systems within it, and then these enter the Arena of the Meta-systemic field through points of origin and leave by sinks returning to their source. The Arena has a boundary that is the System Boundary on the one side and the Horizon of the panorama of the fieldscape that can be seen from the System which provides the OpenScape that organizes the ecosystem that supports the system in its niche. The Arena is broken into a patchwork of discontinuous regions within the overall fieldscape. The Organization of the Meta- systemic field is dis-organized and disunited as well as discontinuous and de- totalized from the point of view of a System schema that is organized, continuous, unified and totalized. The characteristics of the field is based on its locus of complementary opposites that are disconnected from each other that constitute the characteristics and features of the Meta-system. On the other hand, the System has a nucleus that continually asserts its unity and totality within its boundary. In this case the nucleus is made up of the external relations between the forms within the system as different kinds of objects that make it up. These external relations between the different kinds of forms becomes the internal relations as captured by the nucleus of the system. So in a way the structure, essence, nucleus, and locus of these proximal schemas mediate between each pair of adjacent schemas. Structure mediates between content and form and is the reconciliation that Hegel called for between 22 form and content. Essence mediates between the Form and the System to the extent that the Form is part of the system and adapted to it. The nucleus mediates between System and Meta-system in as much as the system has internalized relations between its elements which become clear in its interaction with the various environments in which it finds itself immersed. The Loci mediates between the Meta-system and the Domain to the extent that meta-systems are different environments that may be experienced by moving the points of view on things within spacetime. Meta-systems have their own internal organization that is based on the ordering of independent complementarities within its Arena. But from an external point of view this allows us to see different meta-systems within a given domain. The Domain looks across and takes into account the various possible meta-system changes that are part of a Mission from some rigorously coordinated and disciplined set of perspectives that are standardized. We can imagine seeing these various “essences” of different schemas just as easily as we see the essences of forms within Phenomenology. But Phenomenology has never turned itself into a Domain which applies to different schemas with different kinds of “essences” to be perceived. If we adapt Phenomenology to seeing schemas then it would become more robust as an approach to existence because it would not be one- sidedly always positing the Form Schema that is ubiquitous in the Western tradition. Rather than introducing Structure and System into Phenomenology as internal differentiation of the discipline we are suggesting that Phenomenology become cognizant of the various schemas that appear within the entities surveyed by phenomenology. Using System and Structure to organize phenomenology itself is inevitable, but first we must be able to see the phenomena of schematization itself underlying our own experience through the development of General Schemas Theory and its application to Phenomenology. The way we check the S-prime hypothesis is through Phenomenology where we look at the schematic organization of experience and attempt to see the schemas in action within our experience. The S-prime hypothesis is restrictive through its connection to dimensionality and we can test that restriction to see if it holds in actual experience. And so that is what was done during the research that led to the Emergent Design31 dissertation (UniSA 2009) and before that32 when the subject was just about Schemas Theory and not linking it yet to the process of Architectural Design 33 . Schemas are what we use to do design. We draw on the schemas to obtain the components that we create to embody the design. Schemas are the material for design in the sense used by Hilary Lawson in Closure. So there is a natural connection between the schemas and design. But in terms of just studying the schemas the effort undertaken during the dissertation research was to look at the S-prime hypothesis and to see if one could find any violations of it that would invalidate the hypothesis. 31 https://www.academia.edu/34831961/EMERGENT_DESIGN 32 ‘General Schemas Theory: A New Basis for Systems Engineering Practice’ Draft for Systems Science Handbook, Springer, Unpublished Article by the author 33 https://independent.academia.edu/KentPalmer/Foundations-of-Systems-Architecture-Design https://www.academia.edu/34831961/EMERGENT_DESIGN https://independent.academia.edu/KentPalmer/Foundations-of-Systems-Architecture-Design 23 Different rules were tried with more schemas, but they ended up being too complex. Gaps between schemas were looked for in actual experience. Other schemas not covered were investigated. Anomalies like ‘three dimensional patterns’ and ‘one dimensional systems’ now called ersatz were studied. During this time when I tried to invalidate the hypothesis myself, I did not find anything that was a certain basis for claiming the invalidation of the hypothesis. But I hope others will keep looking for something that might invalidate the hypothesis, so we can learn more about the schemas through that process of trying to find counter-evidence to the hypothesis. But for now, for me, the hypothesis stands, and I continue to explore it because it is a platform for studying other phenomena related to schematism that underlies all our experience at a fundamental level. 
work_cypgf4wbobcbbkbjztmou4xkea	----	untitled L iterary references to gout are a prime example of the insight into popular perceptions of dis- ease that historical writings offer. While praise of podagra is currently in short supply, the merits of gout have been extolled over the centuries by physicians and laypersons. In the past, gout was regarded as a badge of nobil- ity, a talisman against other afflictions and an aphrodisiac, and these beliefs were preserved in 16th- to 18th-cen- tury literature. A mark of nobility Gout as a disease of the nobility was referred to and explained in a popular fable involving Mr. Gout and the spi- der. This story has been traced to the ninth century,1 and the first English version of it was recorded in a medical handbook by the Puritan Richard Hawes in 1634.2 tained with a soft cushion, with down pillows, with dainty caudles, and deli- cate broths. In brief, he did like it so well, that ever since he takes up his lodging with rich men.”3 This fable purports to explain gout’s apparent predilection for the upper class. Gout was referred to as morbus dominorum et dominus mor- borum, lord of disease and disease of lords,4,5 because of its respectable an- tiquity and its association with intem- perance afforded only by the wealthy. Gout was personified as one of the Greek deities, Podagra, born of Diony- sus (Bacchus), the god of wine, and Aphrodite (Venus), the goddess of love.5–7 The idea that gout resulted from service to these gods and was a consequence of overindulgence in sex, food and wine was recorded by an- cient Roman authors and persisted into the Christian era.6–8 The tale tells of Monsieur Gout and his travelling companion, the spider. Mr. Gout lodged with a poor man, and the spider with a rich man. When they reviewed their accommodations the next day, both had complaints. “‘Mine,’ said the Gout, ‘was the worst as ever I had, for I had no sooner touched the poor man’s legs, thinking there to take my rest, but up he gets, and to thrashing he goes, so that I had no rest the whole night.’ ‘And I,’ said the spider, ‘had no sooner begun to build my house in the rich man’s chamber, but the maid came with a broom, and tore down all my work.”3 They then agreed to change places and were so pleased with their respec- tive new homes that they each decided to put up permanent residence, for the spider’s webs were not disturbed by the poor man, and “the Gout he was enter- The glorification of gout in 16th- to 18th-century literature Past progressive D O I: 10 .1 50 3/ cm aj .0 80 31 2 me with her; we both hope it stays that way for a long, long time. There are many challenges however, and also op- portunities in this newest phase of our marriage and per- sonal lives. A gifted, tough-minded, but warm psychologist overseeing 4 mental health clinics in British Columbia, she has been forced to shut down her own clinical prac- tice. A large part of her identity centred around her work, with the many clients that she has helped over the years and the associated rewards of appreciation from those she has helped, and of knowing that she has provided quality psychotherapy and that at the end of the day she has indeed made a difference. ing. Making up. Making love. Teasing and joking. Snuggling. Tasting her su- perb rhubarb crisp. So just as in the time before Alzheimer disease came into our lives, on our very best days we live contentedly in the moment, in the here-and-now. After all, isn’t that what any of us would do on a good day when we’re with those who count — our family and friends? Alzheimer disease is just an unkind, uninvited stranger in our midst. But we don’t have to wait until it comes rudely visiting before we enjoy our wife or husband or partner, other family or friends, before we appreciate — and acknowledge — how much they mean to us. My grandmother said it better than ever I could have. “Make hay while the sun shines!” she would remind me to- day. David Kirkpatrick MA MD Psychiatrist and psychotherapist West Vancouver, BC As for me, I have learned that I can make 2 types of mistakes in our daily to-and-fro and give-and-take. The first kind is the anxious husband reaching out to help his wife when she neither needs nor wants assistance. The second type of error sees me missing an opportunity to help her when she gen- uinely needs it. Type 1 errors are more common and really tee her off. Type 2 er- rors are mercifully less frequent, or so she says. I comfort her when she’s having a bad day, feeling irritated or frustrated. And sometimes I feel cheered up myself, reassured and re- lieved in being able to be there for her. Most days we enjoy each other and, sometimes, hugely. Laughing. Fight- The Left Atrium CMAJ • OCTOBER 7, 2008 • 179(8) © 2008 Canadian Medical Association or its licensors 804 Fr e d S e b a st ia n A good-luck piece Another popular idea of 16th- to 18th- century Europe was that gout was a remedy rather than a disease. Jonathan Swift (1667–1745), the Irish author and satirist, articulates this concept in his poem for his acquaintance Rebecca Dingley entitled “Bec’s Birthday” (1726). As, if the gout should seize the head, Doctors pronounce the patient dead; But, if they can, by all their arts, Eject it to th’extreamest parts, They give the sick man joy, and praise The gout that will prolong his days: Rebecca thus I gladly greet, Who drives her cares to hands and feet.9 Gout was understood to be incom- patible with most other afflictions, in keeping with the age-old idea that dis- eases were mutually exclusive. As such, gout was regarded as a cure, a vaccine, an insurance policy against worse illness.5 In his letters, the English writer Horace Walpole claimed, “It prevents other illness and prolongs life. Could I cure the gout, should not I have a fever, a palsy or an apoplexy?”5 He went on, “I believe the gout a remedy and not a disease, and being so no won- der there is no medicine for it, nor do I desire to be fully cured of a remedy.”10 Gout was sought by some who did not have it. In the 18th century, patients suffering from consumption or melan- choly were sent by their physicians to the waters at Bath in the hope of ac- quiring gout and so ousting their other sickness.5,10 Podagra as an aphrodisiac Gout was also touted as having aphro- disiac properties. The earliest reference to gout as an aphrodisiac is the Poda- gra Encomium of 1562 by Hieronymus Cardanus of Pavia (1501–1576). 11 A physician and mathematician, Car- danus explained in his encomium, a formal yet facetious expression of praise, that: “For with Venus and Bac- chus and the feasts of voluptuaries an abiding covenant serves as check, and such a cause of happiness is she [the gout] that those who are restrained by her are compelled to lead lives that, ex- cept for the pain itself are happy. For patient today, I would prefer to temper the announcement with the reassurance that the condition guaranteed increased social status, a reduction of cancer risk, and an end to Viagra refills. Martina Scholtens MD John Ruedy Immunodeficiency Clinic St. Paul’s Hospital Bridge Community Health Clinic Vancouver Coastal Health Vancouver, BC REFERENCES 1. Rodnan GP, Benedek TG. Gout and the spider. JAMA 1970;211:2157. 2. Benedek TG. Popular literature on gout in the 16th and 17th centuries. J Rheumatol 1987;14:186. 3. Eamon W. The tale of monsieur gout. Bull Hist Med 1981;55:564-7. 4. Hart FD. Gout and non-gout through the ages. Br J Clin Pract 1985;39:91-2. 5. Porter R. Gout: framing and fantasizing disease. Bull Hist Med 1994;68:1-28. 6. Rodnan GP. Early theories concerning etiology and pathogenesis of the gout. Arthritis Rheum 1965;8:599-610. 7. Benedek TG. The gout of Desiderius Erasmus and Willibald Pirckheimer: medical autobiography and its literary reflections. Bull Hist Med 1983;57:526- 44. 8. Benedek TG, Rodnan GP. Podagra by Gottfried Rogg: an illustrated encomium on the gout. J Hist Medicine Allied Sci 1963;18:349-52. 9. Swift J. Bec’s Birthday. In: Williams H, editor. The poems of Jonathan Swift. 2nd ed. Oxford (UK): Clarendon Press; 1937. p.761. 10. Copeman WSC. A short history of the gout and the rheumatic diseases. Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press; 1964. 11. Benedek TG. Disease as aphrodisiac. Bull Hist Med 1971;4:322-40. she does not render them sterile but re- stores them to Venus with increased prowess.”11 T.G. Benedek reviews several rea- sons that were postulated for this sex- ual performance–enhancing character of gout.11 In his 1588 essay, “Of Crip- ples,” Michel de Montaigne, the French Renaissance writer, explains that when the legs are crippled (by any cause) and “do not receive the food that is their due … the genital parts … are fuller, better nourished, and more vigorous. or else that, since this defect prevents exercise, those who are tainted by it dissipate their strength less and come more entire to the sports of Venus.”11 In 1693, Gerhardus Feltmann, a 17th-century Dutch jurist, suggested that the sexual prowess of a person suf- fering with gout was due to the incubat- ing effect of bed rest on the reproduc- tive organs: “For when a patient who is suffering from gout is forced to lie on his back, anyone who knows that the channels of the sperm trace their source to the kidneys can easily and at his leisure comprehend that the loins and kidneys are hot and inflamed.” 11 Historical conceptions of gout may be entertaining and the current meta- bolic definition of the disease consid- ered a scientific advancement, how- ever, if I were to diagnose gout in a The Left Atrium CMAJ • OCTOBER 7, 2008 • 179(8) © 2008 Canadian Medical Association or its licensors 805 N a ti o n a l Li b ra ry o f M e d ic in e 
work_b6pyge6pmrgavjx7rrfswkig5i	----	MORE THAN A BAND AID: HOW THE USE OF POPULAR MUSIC HELPED A CITY RECOVER AFTER DISASTER Kris Vavasour Student No. 29112239 A thesis submitted in partial fulfilment of the requirements for the Degree of Master of Arts in Cultural Studies University of Canterbury March, 2016 ii Contents Acknowledgements .................................................................................................................... iv Abstract ...................................................................................................................................... iv List of Illustrations ...................................................................................................................... vi Chapter 1: Introduction .............................................................................................................. 1 Chapter 2: Literature Review ...................................................................................................... 6 Popular music ......................................................................................................................... 7 Popular culture of disaster.................................................................................................... 11 Disaster songs ....................................................................................................................... 12 Music use after disaster ........................................................................................................ 15 Conclusion ........................................................................................................................ 21 Chapter 3: Methodology ........................................................................................................... 23 Research approach ............................................................................................................... 23 Positionality and research methods ..................................................................................... 27 Chapter 4: Music as fundraiser ................................................................................................. 37 Earthquake Relief.................................................................................................................. 38 Televised events ................................................................................................................... 40 Live events ............................................................................................................................ 42 Releases and remixes............................................................................................................ 62 Conclusion ........................................................................................................................ 72 Chapter 5: Music as psychosocial salve .................................................................................... 73 Music and memory ............................................................................................................... 73 Remembering the Dux .......................................................................................................... 76 Empty spaces, missing places ............................................................................................... 84 Music and community after disaster .................................................................................... 87 All Right? ............................................................................................................................... 93 Gap Filler ............................................................................................................................. 101 The long road to recovery ................................................................................................... 112 Conclusion ...................................................................................................................... 118 Chapter 6: Looking back, moving forward .............................................................................. 120 Chapter 7: Conclusion ............................................................................................................. 128 References .............................................................................................................................. 133 Discography ............................................................................................................................ 136 Appendix 1: YouTube Playlist .................................................................................................. 139 iii Appendix 2: Consent form ...................................................................................................... 140 iv Acknowledgements To all those who have ever played or attended a music event, or have made or bought music that was raising money for disaster victims anywhere – thank you. To those who have written about music, musicians, community, communitas, and to those who have made all the projects, events, and special moments happen – thank you. To the management, crew, and supporters of Gap Filler and All Right?, especially Coralie, Ryan, and Ciaran, for everything you have done, and will do for the city – thank you. To Eric Pawson, whose interest, encouragement, and (deservedly) pointed reminders have kept me vaguely on track and helped me over the finish line – thank you. To Tom, without whose undying love and support this whole research endeavour would never have got off the ground – thank you. You get your wife back now. Abstract The combination of music and disaster has been the subject of much study, especially star- studded telethons and songs that commemorate tragedy. However, there are many other ways that music can be used after disaster that provide benefits far greater than money or memorials but are not necessarily as prominent in the worldwide media landscape. Beginning in September 2010, the city of Christchurch, New Zealand, has been struck by several major earthquakes and over 11,000 aftershocks, the most destructive of which caused 185 deaths. As with many other disasters, music has been used as a method of fundraising and commemoration, but personal experience suggests many other ways that music can be used as a coping mechanism and aid to personal and community recovery. Therefore, in order to uncover the connections, context, and strategies behind its use, this thesis addresses the question: Since the earthquakes began, how has popular music been beneficial for the city and people of Christchurch? As well as documenting a wide variety of musical ‘earthquake relief’ events and charitable releases, this research also explores some of the more intangible aspects of the music-aid relationship. Two central themes are presented – fundraising and psychosocial uses – utilising individual voices and case studies to illustrate the benefits of music use after disaster at a community or city-wide level. Together the disparate threads and story fragments weave a detailed picture of the ways in which music as shared experience, as text, as commodity, and as a tool for memory and movement has been incorporated into the fabric of the city during the recovery phase. v 1: Street art, Christchurch A YouTube playlist has been compiled to accompany this research (full text link and playlist details are in Appendix 1): Click here to launch: More Than A Band-Aid - thesis playlist https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwKFQf2PoiW5kkJqhNG1MpRyedSqunajq vi List of Illustrations All photographs taken by the author, in Christchurch, New Zealand, unless otherwise noted. 1: STREET ART, CHRISTCHURCH ....................................................................................................................... V 2: DANCING FOR CANTERBURY – WHITIREIA STUDENTS FUNDRAISING IN CUBA MALL, WELLINGTON (MARCH 2011) ....... 44 3: BAND TOGETHER, HAGLEY PARK (OCTOBER 2010) ........................................................................................ 57 4: WAITING (FOR PROGRESS) IN CASHEL STREET, LOOKING EAST (MAY 2012) ......................................................... 60 5: WAITING (FOR THE CROWDS) IN CASHEL STREET, LOOKING WEST (MAY 2012) ..................................................... 60 6: THE EASTERN & FRIENDS PLAY FOR THE CROWD AT ST. ALBANS PARK (MARCH 2011) ........................................... 62 7: 'SAVE OUR DUX' DUCKS, MONTREAL ST FENCE (JUNE 2011) ............................................................................ 79 8: THE LEAFY DUX DE LUX COURTYARD, LOOKING THROUGH THE SAFETY FENCE (APRIL 2014) ...................................... 81 9: DUX LIVE! STREET FRONTAGE, ADDINGTON (APRIL 2014) ............................................................................... 82 10: DUX CENTRAL, SURROUNDED BY CONSTRUCTION & EMPTY SPACE (MARCH 2016) .............................................. 85 11: A HITLAB EMPLOYEE DEMONSTRATING THE CITYVIEWAR APP, CITY MALL (MAY 2012) ...................................... 86 12: LINDON PUFFIN PERFORMS IN A COLOMBO ST GAP (APRIL 2011) .................................................................. 102 13: PEOPLE GATHER FOR THE SOUND GARDEN OPENING (OCTOBER 2013) ........................................................... 103 14: THE SOUND GARDEN OPENING (OCTOBER 2013) ...................................................................................... 104 15: THE PALLET PAVILION AT NIGHT (JANUARY 2013) ..................................................................................... 105 16: SHIRT TALES, DANCE-O-MAT SITE #1 (MARCH 2012) ................................................................................ 107 17: GAP FILLER STAFF AND SUPPORTERS TEST OUT THE DANCE-O-MAT (MARCH 2012) .......................................... 108 18: DUBFX GIG IN THE BEDFORD MARQUEE ON MADRAS ST (APRIL 2014) .......................................................... 109 19: THE DANCE-O-MAT DRYING OUT AFTER OVERNIGHT RAIN (MARCH 2016) ...................................................... 111 20: VIEW DURING PHONE CALL TO RNZ, ST ALBANS PARK, MARCH 2011 ............................................................ 120 21: SIGN OF THE TIMES – COUNTING DOWN TO A STREET PARTY IN LYTTELTON (JULY 2011) ...................................... 123 1 Chapter 1: Introduction In the early hours of Saturday the 4 th of September, 2010, the majority of sleeping residents in Christchurch, New Zealand, were rudely awakened by a magnitude 7.1 earthquake that struck just outside the city, near the town of Darfield. 1 Although a little battered and bruised, most people carried on with their lives as best they could through the fairly constant aftershocks, thinking the worst was behind them. However, on the 22 nd of February, 2011, a magnitude 6.3 earthquake 2 tore through the city at lunchtime with lethal force, leading to the partial or total collapse of many buildings and claiming the lives of 185 people. Although technically an aftershock of the September earthquake, the February event was closer and shallower, producing intense G-forces 3 and causing much greater damage to the city and its people. Everybody lost someone or something that day – whether it was their house or job, family members, friends, or colleagues, the city as they knew it, or just their normal way of life. The amount of damage varied from one suburb to the next but was generally worse in the eastern suburbs, where many of those not immediately forced from their houses spent weeks without power. 4 In a recent opinion piece marking the fifth anniversary, Sumner resident and multi-sport legend, Robin Judkins, describes life after the February earthquake: “I was constantly hassled by sightseers who treated my property as a human zoo, only in this case the endangered species was uncaged and chased them off with a shovel”. 5 It is not just tourists and opportunists who have been peering in, there have also been many research outputs and conferences devoted 1 “Canterbury FAQ,” GeoNet, n.d. ca. 2011, http://info.geonet.org.nz/display/home/Canterbury+FAQ. 2 Ibid. 3 “Scientists find rare mix of factors exacerbated the Christchurch quake,” GNS Science, 16 March 2011, http://www.gns.cri.nz/Home/News-and-Events/Media-Releases/Multiple- factors. 4 Kris Vavasour, “www.useless.com: Crisis Communications on Shaky Ground,” MEDIANZ 14 no. 1 (2014): 66. 5 Robin Judkins, “The Christchurch earthquake dilemma: Should we go or stay put?,” Herald, 19 Feb 2016, http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=11592112. 2 to or featuring some modern Canterbury tales. It is a strange and unexpected layer to life as a disaster survivor – becoming an object of fascination for tourists and researchers alike. For many, music was a crucial part of the recovery process, helping them deal with loss and grief in a variety of ways: listening, singing, dancing, forgetting, remembering, sharing, communing, and connecting. Sometimes it was the smallest things that made the biggest impact during those dark days and months, and little moments like that can be difficult to identify by those who arrive after the event or observe from a distance. I have seen theories applied to the situation in Christchurch by academics who arrived in the city after the earthquakes, which often felt very disconnected from my own experiences. One is the five-stage Kübler-Ross model of grief (denial, anger/disbelief, bargaining, depression, guilt), which is about the anticipation of death and is based on individual response to a terminal diagnosis. 6 Not only is it a very introspective model, it is also singular and, “although capturing the imagination of both lay and professional communities, has been widely criticised [and] empirically rejected”. 7 I have also heard ideas for regeneration using Florida’s theories about the creative class which are based on decaying city centres and gentrification, 8 which struggle to mesh with a demolished city centre where all the old, cheap spaces have crumbled and will be replaced (eventually) by newer, more expensive properties. When the loss is felt by, and for, an entire city, when the creatives have little to work with except rubble and empty spaces, the old models seem somewhat inadequate and new approaches are required. At a popular music conference in 2014, a presentation by a young ethno- musicologist offered a valuable insight into a people under study. Drawing on family 6 Elisabeth Kübler-Ross, On Death and Dying (New York: Macmillan, 1969). 7 Christopher Hall, “Bereavement theory: recent developments in our understanding of grief and bereavement,” Bereavement Care 33, no. 1 (2014): 8 8 Richard L. Florida, The Rise of the Creative Class, (New York: Basic, 2002). 3 connections and collective cultural knowledge for her research on women’s music in Lau Lagoon, she explained that people in these remote Solomon Islands communities describe most visiting ethnographers and musicologists as ‘floaters’. 9 Like coconuts on the ocean waves, these researchers float on the surface, seeing only what is presented to them and remaining largely unaware of the depth and complexity that lies beneath. The Solomon Islanders’ perspective is that the shared experiences and common history that make up their culture and community cannot be truly understood through short-term research and observation, as a myriad of subtleties and nuances exist that can be easily missed or dismissed by outsiders. The same could be said of Christchurch and its community of disaster survivors. There are contextual details and shared experiences that add layers of meaning to even the simplest of things, and a wide range of intentions, subversions, and connections that may not be apparent to the outside eye. In general, Cantabrians – especially those born and bred in Christchurch, like myself – are known for their one- eyed parochialism and fierce provincial pride 10 but the dividing line may now have shifted. Christchurch is “a famously insular town,” 11 but these days it is not so much whether a person was born here (or what school they went to), it is whether they were here for the quakes – for the answer to that question will determine how much, if any, shared knowledge and experience exists about that life-changing time. The experience of disaster produces a variety of responses among people and communities, which can generate many examples or angles for interpretation. Naomi Klein, for example, argues that disasters are opportunities for those in power to 9 Irene Karongo Hundleby, “Being in the mix: Pooling Collective Knowledge – A Collaborative Approach to Data Collection in North Malaita, Solomon Islands” (paper presented at the annual conference of the International Association for the Study of Popular Music (Australia New Zealand), Dunedin, New Zealand, December 5-7, 2014). 10 Peter Barrer, ““KIA KAHA CHRISTCHURCH!” Strengthening Identity in New Zealand,” Slovak Academy of Sciences Asian and African Studies 21, no. 2 (2012): 247. 11 George Parker and Barnaby Bennett, “Introduction,” in Christchurch The Transitional City Pt IV, ed. Barnaby Bennett, Eugenio Boidi, and Irene Boles (Christchurch: Free Range Press, 2012): 5. 4 implement agendas to their own benefit rather than that of the affected community, 12 while Rebecca Solnit prefers to focus on the sense of camaraderie among survivors and the joyous collaborations that arise after disaster. 13 What can be said is that “[t]he post-disaster time period is a contested terrain in which various groups (victims, the media, and public officials) attempt to make sense of the event,” 14 and the ways in which others interpret those events, actions and reactions is also varied and contested. 15 When it comes to disaster, there is a difference between seeing and knowing, between watching and experiencing. To the residents of a disaster zone, small things take on huge significance – running water, flushing toilets, solid ground, a smiling face – and every aftershock, every setback, every battle with bureaucracy affects how they view the world around them. It is usually only the dramatic images and big moments that make it onto the news, with the struggles and joys of daily life being described simply as ‘resilience’. There are many potential avenues for enquiry in the field of popular music and disaster, and this city has many tales to tell. There have been many excellent cover versions, parodies, and musically-themed cartoons since the earthquakes, for example, but, given the size and scope of this research project, not everything can be included. Rather than examining the stories told through music made after or about the earthquakes, the focus here is on how music has been beneficial for the people of Christchurch. Music has helped many residents get through the toughest of times, and this research brings together background details, context, and connections that add layers of meaning to the music, the ways it was used, and by whom. Using a variety of 12 Naomi Klein, The Shock Doctrine: The Rise of Disaster Capitalism (New York: Metropolitan, 2007) 13 Rebecca Solnit, A Paradise Built in Hell: The Extraordinary Communities that Arise in Disaster (New York: Penguin, 2009). 14 Gary Webb, “The Popular Culture of Disaster: Exploring a New Dimension of Disaster Research,” in Handbook of Disaster Research, ed. Havidan Rodriguez, Enrico Quarantelli and Russell Dynes (New York: Springer, 2006): 437. 15 Aiko Takazawa and Kate Williams, “Communities in Disasters: Helpless or Helping?,” Perspectives on Global Development and Technology 10 (2011). 5 methods to examine communal and individual uses of music, this thesis addresses the question: Since the earthquakes began, how has popular music been beneficial for the city and people of Christchurch? Before looking in depth at the use of music in Christchurch, chapter two will provide a summary on research approaches and definitions of popular music, and look at how music has been used in other large-scale disaster situations. Research shows that music is often used to raise funds for victims of disaster through charity singles, compilation albums, and live events but there are also many other uses and benefits. Songs can become monuments and memorials, reminders and motivators, they can provide comfort to the weary, and help people create a sense of space and community. Chapter three will be used to outline the research methodology, and my own background and positionality. Chapters four and five go into detail about the uses of music in Christchurch since the earthquakes started in September 2010. The concept of disaster relief is explored through fundraising efforts that include remixed singles and compilation albums, as well as telethons and other live events. A key theme explored is that this ‘relief’ is not always financial, that there are many benefits that go beyond the money raised. These psychosocial benefits are then further explored by looking at how music can trigger memories of times past or remind us of places lost, and how music is also an agent for movement, social connection and communitas. Finally, before concluding, there is a pause where I, and others, reflect on actions taken or observed, and some of the musical moments treasured over the last five and a half years. 6 Chapter 2: Literature Review Popular music has been the subject of much research and debate, as has the concept of popular culture in general. There have been arguments made that “anything popular cannot, by definition, be cultural,” 16 with contempt expressed for the notion that the “experiences and practices of ordinary people are more important analytically than Culture with a capital C”. 17 Many contend that these categories have become blurred, and that the distinction is no longer accurate or relevant. However, arguments over definitions of the word ‘popular’, in terms of culture generally and music more specifically, continue. In terms of music, these arguments often take the form of genre debates, in which word choice and classifications have “links to legitimacy, power, identity, and social stratification”. 18 For example, whether classical music is considered distinct from popular music even when composed or performed in ‘modern’ times, 19 whether avant-garde experimental noise creators are attempting to be popular (or musical), 20 or whether music must enjoy a certain level of attendance or sales to be considered popular. 21 Rather than engage in the debate about the boundaries and definitions of popular music, this research takes a rather agnostic approach to the definitions of both ‘popular’ and ‘music’, and has therefore not excluded any type of music on the grounds of style, date of composition, or level of popularity. As Connell and Gibson note, even if an artist, cultural product or practice is seen or heard by just a few, the simple fact it was enjoyed by some means it can “be interpreted as ‘popular’ in some 16 Roy Shuker, Understanding Popular Music Culture (New York: Routledge, 2013): 4. 17 McGuigan, quoted in Webb, “Popular Culture of Disaster,” 435. 18 Jennifer C. Lena, Banding Together: How Communities Create Genres in Popular Music (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 2012): 145. 19 Robert Edwin, “POP Goes the Classical!,” Journal of Singing 69, no. 3 (2013): 332; Kimberly VanWeelden, “Classical Music as Popular Music: Adolescents’ Recognition of Western Art Music,” Update: Applications of Research in Music Education 31, no. 1 (2012): 14. 20 Amy C. Beal, “Music is a Universal Human Right,” in Sound Commitments: Avant-garde Music and the Sixties, ed. Robert Adlington (New York: Oxford University Press, 2009): 99- 120. 21 John Connell and Chris Gibson, Soundtracks: Popular Music, Identity and Place (London: Routledge, 2003). 7 sense”. 22 Similarly, if classical music or experimental noise is performed or recorded by musicians and enjoyed by an audience then they are also, by that logic, popular music. Whatever form or style it takes, music is a large part of many people’s lives. This chapter provides information about the content and style of different research approaches to popular music before exploring the more specific angle of music and disaster, and the ways in which popular music can be beneficial for those affected. Popular music For some, popular music is simply a background part of daily life, yet for others, it is a key aspect of their social identity, a way of aligning themselves to a particular place or group. 23 Although it is a part of everyday life, popular music is considered by many to be “something special, something different from everyday experience”. 24 Since its emergence as a distinct field of study, research into popular music has involved not only the “consideration of social, psychological, visual, gestural, ritual, technical, historical, economic and linguistic elements [but also the] genre, function, style, (re-)performance, and listening attitude”. 25 As well as providing an “insight into the sounds of many peoples, cultures, and sub-cultures,” 26 popular music is also a cultural and economic product that involves “complicated trajectories of production, distribution and consumption”. 27 The song as object can be “analysed ‘in relation’ to other things,” 28 for example as a unit of stock, either individually or 22 Connell and Gibson, Soundtracks: Popular Music, Identity and Place, 4. 23 David Byrne, How Music Works (Edinburgh: Canongate, 2013); Connell and Gibson, Soundtracks: Popular Music, Identity and Place. 24 Sarah Cohen, “Sounding out the City,” in The Place of Music, ed. Andrew Leyshon, David Matless, and George Revill (New York: Guildford Press, 1998): 285. 25 Philip Tagg, “Analysing Popular Music: Theory, Method and Practice,” Popular Music Vol 2 (1982): 40. 26 Henry Johnson, “Introduction,” in Many Voices: Music and National Identity in Aotearoa/New Zealand, ed. Henry Johnson (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2010): 7. 27 John Connell and Chris Gibson, Soundtracks: Popular Music, Identity and Place (London: Routledge, 2003): 6. 28 Susan J. Smith, “Performing the (sound)world,” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 18, (2000): 617. 8 collectively: in terms of sales by independent and major record labels; the market share of different genres; and the amount of local and imported content on music radio and television. 29 This unit-based approach is viewed by some as having a narrow focus, with “the relationship between music, markets and consumption [being reduced] to only the ‘music consumer’ frame,” 30 one that ignores many important social and symbolic aspects of people’s interaction with popular music. There is a significant body of work that treats popular music as text, looking for meaning in lyrics, musical composition, and visual imagery. This mechanistic perspective focuses on music as fixed object: the text may be interpreted or considered in a number of different ways, but the item itself remains the same as when it was produced. Some scholars, however, have identified limitations with the practice of placing all the emphasis on the text or recorded work as the object of analysis. Nevarez says there are pitfalls to having a “simplistic view of musicians as authors of meaning”, as this perspective does not allow for the input of non-instrumentalists like producers, designers and marketers – who all have a hand in the presentation of the ‘finished’ aural and physical product. 31 Some researchers seek to understand music by focusing not on the text or lyrics but on the meaning derived by listeners, and the way they use music in their everyday lives. Tia DeNora traces the use of music in public and personal spaces, such as house parties, retail stores and aerobics classes; its use during leisure, therapy, and work; and how people create a sense of self through music. 32 Describing it as a resource for daily life, DeNora says that music constructs “scenes that afford different 29 Shuker, Understanding Popular Music Culture, 79. 30 Daragh O’Reilly, Gretchen Larsen and Krzysztof Kubacki, Music, Markets and Consumption (Oxford: Goodfellow Publishers, 2013): 155. 31 Leonard Nevarez, “How Joy Division Came to Sound Like Manchester: Myth and Ways of Listening in the Neoliberal City,” Journal of Popular Music Studies 25, no. 1 (2013): 57 32 Tia DeNora, Music in Everyday Life (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000). 9 kinds of agency, different sorts of pleasure and ways of being,” 33 but that the social ‘powers’ often attributed to music are incredibly difficult to articulate when removed from the context of their use. 34 However, just as there are those who take issue with a focus on music as text, some disagree with the priority being placed on listener use or interpretation. Shuker and others consider this user-focused approach to be restrictive also, as it ignores the role of cultural and political intermediaries – such as music critics, radio announcers, music programmers, and government policymakers – all of whom can influence the availability, perception, and reception of music. 35 When investigating matters of music, the relationships and interactions between artist, song, and audience often take centre stage. However, as Connell and Gibson point out, “[m]usical practices include whole constellations of social uses and meanings, with complex rituals and rules, hierarchies and systems of credibility,” creating geographies of music that are inextricably linked to “the various contexts of performance, listening and interaction in space”. 36 In any study involving popular music there are many factors to consider, from cultural and economic contexts, aesthetic judgements, and available tools or technology. Analysing popular music means dealing with a “bewildering series of distinct, but overlapping contexts and practices of creative and compositional knowledge and activity,” 37 all of which affect production, dissemination and reception. Popular music as a field of enquiry features many different disciplines and subject matters, involving cultural influences and economic tensions, tangled networks of communication, production and consumption, and the construction of individual and collective identities. 33 DeNora, Music in Everyday Life, 123 34 Ibid., x. 35 Matt Hills, “Back in the Mix: Exploring Intermediary Fandom and Popular Music Production,” in Popular Music Fandom, ed. Mark Duffett (New York: Routledge, 2014): 47-87; Lily Kong, “Popular Music in Geographical Analysis,” Progress in Human Geography 19, no. 2 (1995): 183-198; Nevarez, Joy Division; Shuker, Understanding Popular Music Culture. 36 Connell and Gibson, Soundtracks, 3. 37 Charles Fairchild, “The Medium and Materials of Popular Music: ‘Hound Dog’, Turntablism and Muzak as Situated Musical Practices,” Popular Music 27, no. 1 (2008): 104. 10 Listening to music through any medium in any space can be a social or singular experience, and even live music performances can range from a “highly participatory art form [to] a passive consumption experience”. 38 Just as the level of audience engagement will differ from person to person, from one gig to another, no two live performances by an artist or band will be the same, even when played on consecutive days, featuring the same setlist, in the same venue. The live music experience includes a multitude of non-audio elements that can be emotional or visual, ephemeral or tangible, providing people with a shared experience, “an affirmation of community, and… the surrender of the isolated individual to the feeling of belonging to a larger tribe”. 39 Concerts of any size are “complex cultural phenomena, involving a mix of music and economics, ritual and pleasure, for both performers and their audience”. 40 Each musical performance is “produced through interaction between musicians, audiences and the environment, and the experience itself cannot be separated from the music”. 41 But there are yet wider circles of people and practices involved with live musical events, from tour promoters and venue operators through to hotdog sellers and security staff, with connections and co-dependencies that extend out to the instrument makers, equipment hire companies, and landlords of rehearsal spaces. The practice of making music involves much more than the act of performing music. Music fills and transforms space, and not always in a physical sense. When hearing a particular song, it can “easily evoke a whole time and place, distant feelings and emotions, and memories of where we were, and with whom”. 42 Musically- inclined people will speak about the soundtrack of their life, with certain songs indelibly linked to a particular time, place, person or feeling. For many, “music 38 Connell and Gibson, Soundtracks, 3. 39 Byrne, How Music Works, 78. 40 Shuker, Understanding Popular Music Culture, 49. 41 O’Reilly, Larsen, and Kubacki, Music, Markets and Consumption, 204. 42 George H. Lewis, “Who do you love? The Dimensions of Musical Taste,” in Popular Music and Communication, 2 nd edition, ed. James Lull (London: Sage, 1992): 135. 11 reheard and recalled provides a device for unfolding, for replaying [a moment] as emerging experience,” 43 allowing the past to come alive once more. Music has the ability to provide maps to real and imagined spaces, positioning people within a larger social environment where songs “are never just a song, but a connection, a ticket, a pass, an invitation, a node in a complex network”. 44 People can use music to invoke imaginary journeys, separate from the physical landscape that surrounds them, arriving in what Josh Kun describes as ‘audiotopias’ – personal utopian spaces of sonic architecture. 45 Losing oneself in the music enables people to find themselves somewhere else entirely without physically moving. This can be a blessing in some situations – for example, while living in a disaster zone, when any other time or place seems better than the here and now. Popular culture of disaster Disasters can provide inspiration for a variety of cultural products and practices, created and shared by people who experienced the event, as well as those who did not. The cultural products of disaster, including the music produced, can then be treated as artefacts to be analysed, providing researchers with clues as to the role of government, the impact on the vulnerable, and the issues seen as important by different groups. 46 Many have studied the cultural products and scene of a disaster, looking for insight into conflicts, power struggles, heroes and villains. 47 Clearly, disasters are not just social events, but cultural items and creative expressions can provide tools through which different groups reflect, frame and process the event. 43 DeNora, Music in Everyday Life. 44 Josh Kun, Audiotopia (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005): 3. 45 Ibid., 21, 23. 46 Tricia Wachtendorf, “Exploring the popular culture of disaster” (paper presented at the annual meeting for the American Sociological Association, Chicago, Illinois, August 8, 1999). 47 Stephen Couch, “The Cultural Scene of Disasters: Conceptualizing the Field of Disasters and Popular Culture,” International Journal of Mass Emergencies and Disasters 18, no. 1 (2000): 25. 12 There are several aspects to consider when studying the popular culture of disaster, 48 which can range from products like board games and films, visual responses like street art and cartoons, as well as event-specific jokes and songs or albums. The first aspect is the product itself, and what meaning is contained or alluded to in the item as text or artefact. There is the relationship of the product to the real world, the time and place of its making, and whether or not it is an accurate reflection of the people, place and disaster in question. The identity of the producers and their methods of production are also key dimensions, as are the ways in which these products are distributed or consumed. 49 All of these factors are vital considerations when examining the cultural products of disaster, especially the music being made and used. Disaster songs Catastrophic events such as murder and disaster have long been memorialised through poetry and visual arts, and have provided inspiration for an entire subgenre of popular music based on subject matter rather than style or sound. No type of calamity appears to be off limits: “Mine disasters, school fires, epidemics, fratricide, shootouts, train, airplane and shipwrecks, as well as all manner of natural disasters from floods and tornadoes to earthquakes, [have all been] set to music and sung about”. 50 Cultures all around the world have songs about loved ones lost to disaster or battle, commemorating the incidents and passing down knowledge through subsequent generations. In the early 20 th century, a popular musical style was the broadsheet ballad, in which news of notable disastrous events “visited upon unsuspecting Americans” was dispensed through song. 51 The sheer variety of disaster music 48 Ibid., 27-29; Webb, “Popular Culture of Disaster,” 434. 49 Couch, “Cultural Scene of Disasters,” 27-29; Webb, “Popular Culture of Disaster,” 434. 50 David Maurer, “‘Disaster’ sells… and earns Grammy Attention,” Daily Progress (Charlottesville), 3 Jan 2008, http://www2.dailyprogress.com/lifestyles/cdp- lifestyles/2008/jan/03/disaster_sells__and_earns_grammy_attention_01_03_0-ar-70541/. 51 Ibid. 13 available reflects the multitude of genres in the wider environment, ranging from narrative ballads and dirges about historical events to more contemporary musical styles like “country and western, urban blues, folk rock, and even electronica”. 52 People have been writing songs about disaster for hundreds of years but these days, song lyrics and performances can be shared via the Internet faster than ever, sometimes within hours of an event taking place. In 2001, as the events of 9/11 unfolded, footage of the plane crashes and the attack on New York’s twin towers was broadcast, shared and discussed worldwide. Television networks ran live coverage and people gathered in both physical and online spaces in order to watch and grieve together. Within 24 hours people were sharing freshly penned lyrics on folksong websites for a type of disaster song Carr describes as “aural monuments [which then] become repeatable rituals of remembrance,” 53 and are far quicker to construct than any physical monument. Disaster songs have an important social function, and many are written from a first-person perspective, whether their creator experienced the disaster first-hand or as an electronically mediated event. This has been observed in songs written about many different disasters: ballads about the sinking of the Titanic in 1912; blues music about the 1927 Mississippi flood; in folksongs after 9/11; and in hip hop music after Hurricane Katrina in 2005. 54 Zenia Kish observed that, shortly after Hurricane Katrina, a “veritable subgenre of Katrina hip-hop” appeared, as many hip hop artists recorded songs in response to the suffering and institutional failure they observed, including My FEMA People by Mia X. 55 Most of these songs used “a first-person speaking voice, regardless of the artist’s origins in or lack of connection to New Orleans, lending the 52 Revell Carr, ““We Never Will Forget”: Disaster in American Folksong from the Nineteenth Century to September 11, 2011,” Voices 30 no. 3-4 (2004): 36. 53 Ibid., 40. 54 Ibid., 36; Zenia Kish, ““My FEMA People”: Hip-hop as Disaster Recovery in the Katrina Diaspora,” American Quarterly 61 no. 3 (2009): 675. 55 Kish, “My FEMA People,” 671. 14 music candor and emotional urgency”. 56 In times of disaster, songs can put voice to shared emotions and frustrations and form a social connection with others. Contemporary popular songs have also been re-recorded, re-mixed or revised after catastrophic events, either by the original artist or by others. After the 1995 bombing in Oklahoma, local radio station KATT 100.5 re-mixed Live’s song, Lightning Crashes, adding clips from news reports over the instrumental sections. 57 DJ Sammy and Yanou’s Candlelight remix of the Bryan Adams song, Heaven, was re-mixed in 2002 by KISS FM in Bakersfield, California, to commemorate the first anniversary of the 9/11 attacks. 58 The same Candlelight version of the song was then re-mixed again by KLUC FM in 2011, to mark the tenth anniversary of the Twin Towers attack. 59 Both versions feature the voices of young girls reading a monologue to a dearly missed ‘Daddy’, with the softly sung chorus interspersed. There are many different video versions of both the Lightning Crashes and Heaven remixes on You Tube, and comments posted by viewers illustrate how these re-mixes have become an ‘aural monument’ to a traumatic event in their lives. Even long after a disaster, the shared experience of a musical moment can be an emotional touchstone for all involved, whether the song remains the same or was specifically reworked for the occasion. While the previous songs were unauthorized re-mixes made by radio stations, some performers have re-versioned their own material after disaster or notable deaths. Elton John’s song, Candle in the Wind, originally a tribute to Marilyn Monroe, was first re-dedicated in 1990 (to AIDS victim, Ryan White) before being almost 56 Ibid., 675. 57 Live, Lightning Crashes (OKC Bombing Mix) [unauthorised remix video], 1995, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMxLbCmvxrE. 58 “Heaven (Candlelight Mix) Reignites Radio,” 24 Sept 2002, http://www.werismyki.com/lyrpo/djsammy_heaven.html#article; “Heaven (Bryan Adams Song) – Cover Versions – DJ Sammy Version – Versions,” nd. ca. 2011, http://www.liquisearch.com/heaven_bryan_adams_song/cover_versions/dj_sammy_version /versions. 59 “Heaven (Bryan Adams Song) – Cover Versions”. 15 completely re-written by Elton John and his song-writing partner, Bernie Taupin, as a tribute to Diana, Princess of Wales, after her death in 1997. 60 Even though the most recent lyrical revision has been described as heavy-handed and schmaltzy, 61 the song went straight to number one in many countries, selling over 35 million copies worldwide and generating many millions of pounds in royalty payments for the Diana, Princess of Wales Memorial Fund. 62 Similarly, Halo, a love song by Beyonce, has also been re-purposed for different occasions by the artist herself. The original lyrics, ‘Baby I can see your halo’, were first altered in tribute to Michael Jackson after his death in 2009, to ‘Michael I can see your halo’, and then after the earthquake that struck Port-au-Prince in 2010, to ‘Haiti I can see your halo’. 63 However, just as popular music is more than its textual elements, not all disaster music can be categorised under the heading of ‘disaster songs’, as the songs of disaster do not always contain disaster references. Music use after disaster Although the disaster song genre focuses on music written specifically about (or re-versioned after) a disaster, it has been observed that existing songs can take on new significance after a catastrophic event, even without alteration. In the American popular music songbook, songs from or about New Orleans feature strongly, although many now seem strangely prophetic. On reviewing some classic songs after Hurricane Katrina, some found a “haunting connection between old tunes and the current 60 Jack Doyle, “Candle in the Wind, 1973 & 1997,” Pop History Dig, 26 Apr 2008, last updated 18 Aug 2013, http://www.pophistorydig.com/topics/candle-in-the-wind1973-1997/. 61 D.W. Dunphy, “Songs that Kill: Elton John, “Candle In The Wind 1997 (Goodbye England’s Rose)”,” Popdose, 16 Jun 2014, http://popdose.com/songs-that-kill-elton-john-candle-in-the- wind-1997-goodbye-englands-rose/. 62 Doyle, “Candle in the Wind”. 63 Elizabeth McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster and Humanitarianism: Survival Singing, Relief Telethons, and the Haiti Earthquake,” Small Axe 16 no. 3 (2012): 33; Beyonce, Halo (Hope for Haiti Now) [live performance], 2010, https://youtu.be/W7gRyoVgKKs. 16 crisis”. 64 Songs such as Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans? and Prayer for New Orleans have been given new emotional layers by those who were displaced or affected by the disaster. 65 After Hurricane Katrina, a thirty year-old song by Randy Newman, Louisiana, 1927, became something of “a contemporary anthem, its chorus – “Louisiana, they’re trying to wash us away” – bearing new relevance”. 66 Its use and appreciation after disaster is a reminder that popular music is fluid, in that it “refuses to provide a uniform or static text” 67 , and can simultaneously carry many different meanings. Popular music consists of more than its textual elements, it is also a social experience that involves performance and consumption. Sometimes, for those impacted by disaster, it is this social aspect that matters most – the acts of singing, listening and participating – rather than the song itself. After Hurricane Katrina and the subsequent flooding, hundreds of thousands of New Orleans residents were displaced, with many ending up in evacuee centres scattered across the country. Blumenfeld describes how the arrival of jazz musicians at a shelter in Baton Rouge was initially met with scepticism by the aid workers and media, who thought that music was not something the tired evacuees needed. 68 What happened as members of New Orleans brass band, the Hot 8, began to play showed everyone there that it was exactly what the people needed. Band leader, Bennie Pete, describes the experience as beautiful: “We just showed up, started blowing. And people began to smile and cry and dance. That’s my band! It was a healing thing”. 69 The Hot 8’s performance was captured by CNN and the band went on to feature in When the Levees Broke, Spike Lee’s award-winning documentary about the 64 B. Lee Cooper, “Right Place, Wrong Time: Discography of a Disaster,” Popular Music and Society 31 no. 2 (2008): 263-4. 65 Jack Sullivan, “In New Orleans, did the Music die?,” Chronicle of Higher Education 53 no. 3 (2006); Cooper, “Right Place, Wrong Time”. 66 Larry Blumenfeld, “Since the Flood: Scenes from the Fight for New Orleans Jazz Culture,” in Pop When the World Falls Apart, ed. Eric Weisbard (Durham, Duke University Press, 2012): 166. 67 Connell and Gibson, Soundtracks, 3. 68 Blumenfeld, “Since the Flood”. 69 Quoted in Blumenfeld, “Since the Flood,” 153. 17 devastation of New Orleans. The film title is a reference to a classic blues song from the late 1920s, When the Levee Breaks, which describes the devastation caused by the Great Mississippi Flood of 1927, and has been covered by many artists, including Led Zeppelin. One of the most public and high profile uses of music after disaster is for fundraising purposes, with concerts, telethons, and song or album releases following many major catastrophic events. Global media and world-famous musicians have successfully combined to raise awareness of, and funds for, many different crises and disasters. From Band Aid and Live Aid in the mid-1980s through to the Hope for Haiti Now telethon in 2010, these star-studded events have attracted both praise and criticism. These musical fundraisers were first seen as an opportunity to combine “the pleasure and passion of rock music [with] compassion and solidarity,” 70 however more recent interpretations consider these events as celebrity humanitarianism that perpetuate harmful stereotypes of starving Africans and helpless Haitians in order to turn compassion into cash. 71 The Hope for Haiti Now telethon followed the predictable formula for celebrity-driven disaster fundraisers, which consists of emotional musical numbers, pre-recorded field items, live crosses, and regular appeals for donations. 72 As with the Live Aid event in 1985, the complexities of the Haitian disaster were not reflected in the simplistic narratives employed by the scriptwriters, fundraisers and media outlets. Just as the houses and buildings of Port-au-Prince were flattened by the earthquake, the telethon flattened the earthquake into a single event, ignoring the international 70 Iain Chambers, Popular Culture: The Metropolitan Experience (London: Methuen, 1986): 188. 71 William Easterley, “Celebrity Musicians Can’t Feed the World,” Slate, 29 Apr 2014, http://www.slate.com/articles/health_and_science/feed_the_world/2014/04/live_aid_band _aid_usa_for_africa_did_pop_stars_and_hit_songs_help_ethiopia.html; McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster and Humanitarianism”. 72 McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster and Humanitarianism”. 18 debt, inequitable trade deals, poverty, and corruption that contributed to the widespread destruction and high death toll. 73 Telethons are designed to tug the heartstrings of the viewer; to encourage nostalgic associations and imagined personal connections through celebrities, music, and images; and provide an opportunity for benevolent Westerners to counter their excessive consumption with conspicuous giving. 74 Songs are chosen for their perceived emotional connection to the moment or event, and the finale is often performed by someone from the affected area. In A Concert for Hurricane Relief, organised after Hurricane Katrina, this was New Orleans native, Dr. John, and in Hope for Haiti Now, it was co-organiser and ‘supercelebrity’ Haitian musician, Wyclef Jean, whose involvement fostered imagined connections between the audience, celebrities and Haitian survivors. 75 Although the binary narratives of ‘us’ and ‘them’, of corporate interests versus individual needs, of place and authenticity, are often present in discussions about music and disaster, as with every aspect of music and place discussed so far, these are neither discrete categories nor impermeable barriers. As a Haitian musician living and working in the US, Wyclef Jean is simultaneously insider and outsider to both Haitians and Americans. 76 His performance in the telethon mediated several different orientations and positions, as it moved from the Jamaican Rastafari song By the Rivers of Babylon to a slow and evocative original composition, Yele, in the Kreyol language of Haiti, before the band burst into Rara, an exhilarating, carnivalesque style of Haitian funeral music. 73 Ibid.; Anthony Oliver-Smith, “Haiti and the Historical Construction of Disaster,” NACLA Report on the Americas: Fault Lines 43, no 4 (July/August 2010). 74 McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster and Humanitarianism,” 34. 75 Ibid., 35. 76 Ibid. 19 Wyclef Jean used the global stage to send an inside message to the Haitian diaspora by calling on the strong sonic association of Rara music, and by singing in both English and Kreyol, he was able to speak “Haitian to Haitian and American to American [in] a moment of ‘dual addressivity’”. 77 This can be seen as a ‘sonic intervention’, an attempt to break through the “cultural anesthesia that had characterized the rest of the telethon”. 78 The loud, anarchic, and very Haitian sounds of Rara provided a bold counterpoint to the finely honed Westernised sentimentality of the other musical numbers that night. Yet this break from the standard disaster script was carefully managed and rehearsed, playing against – but still within – the conventions of the telethon genre. There are always risks with live television, even when everyone involved is united for a common cause, like fundraising for disaster victims. A few years earlier, in 2005, an unscripted disruption to a similar telethon event added fuel to the debate about institutional failure and media stereotyping of Katrina’s many black victims, and helped propel the issue into the national spotlight. 79 Kanye West’s rant about inequality and the racially-based portrayal of disaster victims seemed unprepared, rambling from one idea to the next, pointing out how guilt about disaster fatigue inspired his own large monetary donation, and ending on the now notorious statement: ‘George Bush doesn’t care about black people’. The telethon producer quickly cut to another presenter after that statement but, while the incident was edited out of subsequent broadcasts, the message had already been sent. 80 Kanye West may not have been at his most eloquent that night but he and many other mainstream hip hop artists used their music to champion post-Katrina 77 Ibid., 36. 78 Ibid. 79 Kish, “My FEMA People”. 80 “Top 10 Outrageous Kanye West Moments: Kanye Goes Off-Script,” Time, n.d. http://content.time.com/time/specials/packages/article/0,28804,1922188_1922187_192218 3,00.html. 20 New Orleans “as a political cause with broader import”. 81 Even though artists like Kanye, Chuck D, and Mos Def had no direct connection to the place of disaster, the victimization of the African-American community of New Orleans and the Gulf region provided storylines that were familiar to many. Their identification with the victims was more about social place than physical space; the ‘us’ and ‘them’ based on hierarchies of power rather than geographic location. Kish describes Katrina hip hop as having a “plurality of speaking positions,” 82 as individual stories were folded into critiques of the wider human catastrophe, blending local geographical and socioeconomic knowledge into musical responses that “became a cultural force of identification and activism”. 83 By uncoupling place from physical location, other perspectives can be seen as still providing an ‘inside’ viewpoint to a situation. In a time of heightened stress, music can be a catalyst for sharing and expressing emotions, connecting people and communities, and helping them make sense of what has happened. 84 Such was the case after the earthquake that struck Haiti in January, 2010, where survivors sang until the sun went down, alone or in groups, and then started singing again when the sun came up. 85 Haitians dealt with the stress of the quake by transforming it into song, “construct[ing] a frame of meaning in which to understand and act”. 86 One survivor put it this way: “When everything is destroyed, all you have left is your culture… It can change, but can’t be destroyed”. 87 Music is of vital importance to Haitian people, and after the earthquake survivors used music, particularly religious hymns, to orient themselves and transform the experience, 81 Kish, “My FEMA People,” 678. 82 Ibid., 673 83 Ibid., 671. 84 Carr, “We Never Will forget”; Webb, “Popular Culture of Disaster”. 85 McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster and Humanitarianism”; Sue Montgomery, “Finding Inspiration in Disaster; Music, Art, Writing Flourish,” Gazette (Montreal), 12 Jan 2011, accessed 6 Sep 2012 via Factiva. 86 Elizabeth McAlister, “Voices of the Haiti Earthquake: Singing, Telethons, and Neoliberal Humanitarian Relief” (paper presented at the Music and Crisis Post-graduate Conference, UCLA Santa Barbara, California, April 14-15 2012), 5. 87 As cited in Montgomery, “Finding Inspiration in Disaster”. 21 “creating their own audiospheres,” 88 and reclaiming the rubble-strewn streets through song. McAlister notes that many non-Haitian observers and media outlets were confused by “the imperative for song” displayed by survivors, and struggled to make sense of it. 89 The emotional reasons for, and benefits of, music performed and shared at street or community level after disaster may not always be apparent to those who are not familiar with a people or place. Most would not have noticed, but McAlister says the majority of Haitians, who practice the Afro-Creole religion of Vodou, were being outsung by the evangelical minority. 90 The evangelical congregations of Haiti are well-connected and well-funded, and their singing featured heavily in foreign journalists’ broadcasts. 91 Feeling vulnerable and stifled by the evangelicals camping nearby who were trying to drown out the Vodou music with their Protestant hymns, the Vodou congregations turned to familiar Catholic tunes like Ave Maria, in what has been likened to the “age- old tactics of covert practices developed during slavery and post-slavery repression”. 92 McAlister watched as the people of Haiti sang to rebalance themselves, to bring life back into the city of Port-au-Prince and to reclaim physical and cultural space but these uses and motivations would not have been noticed by most of those reporting and watching. Conclusion When looking at the confluence of music and disaster, there are a number of approaches and outputs involved. Disaster songs tell stories about historic and recent events, but there is more to music after disaster than the new or reworked songs that fall in this category. After a disaster, music can be used in many ways: to provide 88 McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster and Humanitarianism,” 38. 89 Ibid., “Voices of the Haiti Earthquake,” 5. 90 McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster and Humanitarianism,” 26. 91 Ibid., 25. 92 Ibid., 26. 22 solace; to raise funds; to memorialise people, events, and places; to criticise those in power; to provide a soundtrack for movement and gatherings; and to create and reclaim space. Not being physically present for the disaster in question does not hinder researchers, musicians, and media from getting involved or having opinions but it does influence their perspective and level of insight, as will the level or depth of their connection to the people and place of disaster. Just like popular music, telethons and disaster scenes can be read and discussed in many different ways, depending on the perspective of those involved. Elizabeth McAlister, an American scholar with personal attachment, experience, and insight into Haiti, watched the disaster unfold from afar via the media and digital communication technologies along with her Haitian husband and their children. 93 There were subtleties and nuances evident in the types and uses of music by different groups of Haitians in response to the disaster, differences that have their roots in centuries of social, economic, and religious practices. Not everyone will have noticed these moments but, even though McAlister was on the outside of the disaster scene looking in, as an observer and interpreter of the situation, she was watching and speaking as someone with inside knowledge. However, McAlister was still physically and culturally distant: she saw but did not experience those needs and she does not carry the same physical or emotional scarring as those who lived through the event and its aftermath. 93 Ibid., 22. 23 Chapter 3: Methodology This research owes much to the work of a few key writers, in terms of content, style, and research approach. Sara Cohen, 94 whose research on life and music in Liverpool, England, reveals much about the relationships between music, place, and people; Tia DeNora, 95 whose examination of the role that music plays in public and private daily life illustrates the value in documenting the details of meaning afforded to songs and musical styles, and the different uses of, and identities shaped by music; and to Sarah Pink, 96 whose descriptions and use of sensory ethnography have guided and informed many stages of the process. Also to Elizabeth McAlister, 97 whose analysis of the motivations behind the use of music after disaster shows that concepts like identity and social position are fluid and layered, and that musical moments have meanings that may not be apparent to all observers; and to Vicki Anderson, 98 whose heartfelt and beautifully written accounts of life and music in Christchurch, especially since the earthquakes began, express what many in the city could not put into words themselves. Research approach It is not only in the subject of popular music that dichotomies are debated, they are also present in descriptions of the research process, in terms of dividing lines between observation and theory, researcher and researched, and whether the research and writing processes can be neatly separated. 99 Unlike Cohen, who moved from Oxford to Liverpool in the 1980s as a postgraduate student in order to study the city 94 Cohen, “Sounding out the City”; ibid., Decline, Renewal and the City. 95 DeNora, Music in Everyday Life. 96 Sarah Pink, Doing Sensory Ethnography (London: Sage, 2009). 97 McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster and Humanitarianism”; ibid., “Voices of the Haiti Earthquake”. 98 Vicki Anderson, “Rock and Roll Mother,” Press [blog], http://www.stuff.co.nz/the- press/opinion/blogs/rock-and-roll-mother (and countless print articles from The Press). 99 Juliana Mansvelt and Lawrence D. Berg, “Writing Qualitative Geographies, Constructing Meaningful Geographical Knowledges,” in Qualitative Research Methods in Human Geography, ed. Iain Hay (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010): 340. 24 and its music culture, 100 or McAlister, an expert on Vodou and Rara music in Haiti who lives and works in Connecticut as a professor at Wesleyan University, 101 the city under study in this case is my own hometown, the place I was born and where I have lived for most of my life. Although I was already participating in and researching the local music scene, the earthquakes and subsequent events that disrupted my life, as well as the lives of my family, friends, and the entire city, have opened up new avenues of life experience and research. My observations, therefore, are very much influenced by my familiarity with and affection for this place, as well as the stresses of life as homeowner, rate-payer, parent and educator, so my position as researcher and researched, as observer and interpreter, reflects this complexity. Whether a researcher is considered as an insider or outsider, by themselves or others, can have an effect on many aspects of observational research. While researching one’s own city and culture, it can be difficult to “wear [the] ‘community’ and ‘researcher’ hats at the same time,” and any ease of access afforded by familiarity must be “balanced against the potential for bias in the interpretation and reporting” of the research data. 102 There are also dangers in over-familiarity, in that there may be “too much participation at the expense of observation,” 103 however, the embedded and embodied nature of researching one’s own culture and environment provides contextual understanding that may not be available to those who have chosen to immerse themselves in a place of interest, even after a period of extended observation. 100 Cohen, Decline, Renewal and the City, 1. 101 “Elizabeth McAlister,” Wesleyan University, n.d. last updated 10 Jan 2016, http://emcalister.faculty.wesleyan.edu/. 102 Hilary P.M. Winchester and Matthew W. Rofe, “Qualitative Research and its Place in Human Geography,” in Qualitative Research Methods in Human Geography, ed. Iain Hay (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010): 12. 103 Evans, quoted in Robin A. Kearns, “Seeing with Clarity: Undertaking Observational Research,” in Qualitative Research Methods in Human Geography, ed. Iain Hay (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010): 249. 25 This ethnographic research takes what could be described as a feminist or post- structuralist approach to human geography, 104 in that it recognises a variety of positions and realities, and focuses on lived experience. Drawing on qualitative methods such as interview, archival research, participant-observation and other techniques that have been described variously as “observant listening and participant sensing,” 105 “uncontrolled observation,” 106 and “multisensorial embodied engagement with others,” 107 my aim is to provide a rich description of how different people used music in ways that were of benefit to them or the wider community. This research offers a wide-ranging account of individual and collective actions, celebrating the participatory nature of music, and providing what Lena describes as a ‘thick’ history of music, 108 by incorporating a number of different voices, stories, and experiences that may otherwise go unnoticed. To borrow a musical analogy from Winchester and Rofe: Reality is like an orchestra: post-structural approaches differentiate the instruments and their sounds… the minor instruments too have a tune to play and a thread that forms a distinct but usually unheard part of the whole. It is [these] voices… that, when released from their silencing, enable a more holistic understanding of society to be articulated. 109 As conductor of the various instruments performing this symphony, it is my role to bring certain voices and melodies to centre-stage at the appropriate moment, and to shine the spotlight on some performers of note. 104 Joost Van Loon, “Ethnography: A Critical Turn in Cultural Studies,” in Handbook of Ethnography, ed. Paul Atkinson, Amanda Coffey, Sara Delamont, John Lofland and Lyn Lofland (London: Sage, 2001): 277; Winchester and Rofe, “Qualitative Research and its Place,” 21. 105 Wood and Smith, quoted in Winchester and Rofe, “Qualitative Research and its Place,” 13. 106 Kearns, “Seeing with Clarity,” 243. 107 Pink, Doing Sensory Ethnography, 25. 108 Lena, Banding Together, 2. 109 Winchester and Rofe, “Qualitative Research and its Place,” 23. 26 The difficulties in capturing and representing the elusive and ephemeral aspects of life, those ‘unspeakable geographies’ involving performance and emotion, 110 have led to some of the more experimental techniques identified in the previous paragraph. Techniques such as ‘participant sensing’ and ‘embodied engagement’ could be said to describe the embodied aspects of an auto-ethnographer’s daily life: experiencing events and surroundings through every sense and taking notice of what impacts on, or matters to, yourself and others around you. As is often the case in qualitative research, positionality is key to recognising “personal subjectivity and possible sources of bias” 111 arising from the personal or professional background of the researcher. Bourdieu warns there is however, a danger in excess reflexivity, especially the rather self-indulgent process of “observing oneself observing, observing the observer in [their] work of observing”. 112 While very much grounded in, and guided by, my own personal experiences through this tumultuous time, these events are presented mostly in the third-person narrative style. This is not an attempt to disguise my own hand in shaping the narrative, but is done in the knowledge that this text is a re-staging of those events, a constructed story that evokes and reflects on the experiences of many. 113 Although the selection processes are subjective, this research seeks to present an objective account of events as told through a variety of voices. Objectivity is not only found “through distance, impartiality, and universality but [also] through contextuality, partiality, and positionality”. 114 This research is the result of direct involvement during interesting times, of primary observation of individual and communal behaviour, and of secondary observations – interpreting the observations of others. 115 110 Ibid., 13. 111 Ibid., 16. 112 Quoted in Winchester and Rofe, “Qualitative Research and its Place,” 16. 113 Mansvelt and Berg, “Writing Qualitative Geographies,” 341-345. 114 Ibid., 341. 115 Kearns, “Seeing with Clarity,” 244. 27 Positionality and research methods Due to the varied nature of work patterns and leisure activities over a period of many years, gaining access to people and events of interest over the last five years has not proven difficult. In fact, casual work in hospitality venues and the event industry has afforded me access to many more musical events than my bank account could ever have achieved alone. Most of the large-scale music gigs in Christchurch are held at the city’s indoor arena, 116 a venue managed by Vbase, 117 and many of those events have been attended in my working capacity as a ‘host’. This catch-all title covers all the frontline staff (excluding food & beverage) who are dealing with audience members. We are the smiling but nameless people who take tickets at the main door or gate, show people to their seats, the toilets, the bar or the door, and monitor the crowd for intoxication or disruptive behaviour in order to enhance the experience for everyone else. In this role, I have observed many thousands of people attending many different types of events at the arena since the earthquakes – from The Wiggles to Metallica, from X Factor Australia winner, Reece Mastin to opera superstar, Placido Domingo. While the uniform clothing I was wearing set me apart from those attending the event, it also served to render me largely invisible, in that I was no different to any of the other similarly uniformed and anonymous workers. Another casual job a few years earlier gave me my introduction to the creative crowd that lives and gathers in the port town of Lyttelton. The Loons was both a licensed venue and a circus theatre troupe of the same name. My work at the venue involved a variety of roles including publicity, bar work, and the occasional stint on a follow-spot, and provided the starting point for many good friendships. Getting to 116 There is one large indoor performance arena in Christchurch which is capable of holding crowds of up to 9000, depending on layout. Due to changes in the naming rights sponsor, the venue has gone by various names since its construction in 1998, when it was known as the WestpacTrust Centre. At the time of the events included here, the sponsor was Canterbury Building Society (CBS), and is now the Horncastle Arena, sponsored by Horncastle Homes. 117 Vbase is the company that owns and manages the city’s event venues and major sporting grounds like AMI Stadium, and is 100% owned by the Christchurch City Council. 28 know musicians like Adam McGrath and Jess Shanks from The Eastern made it a lot easier to approach them, and others among their circle, when I was making a radio documentary programme for a stage one Cultural Studies paper at the University of Canterbury (UC) in early 2009. This programme, Harbour SouNZ, 118 was later re- edited and shortened before airing on Radio New Zealand (RNZ) National’s show, Spectrum, in November that same year. Since first meeting Adam and Jess back in 2008, I have become a huge fan of their work (as has my husband), buying each EP or album on release and attending many, many shows. The Eastern, along with Lindon Puffin, Delaney Davidson, and Marlon Williams, have been part of the soundtrack to my life for a number of years now, so my attendance at their post-quake performances was the continuation of existing fandom and friendship. I have had a professional interest in the use of music in public spaces for many years now. After initially volunteering on student radio station, rdu, in the early 1990s, then training and working in commercial radio, I spent almost ten years working for a private media company that supplied the music playing in many of New Zealand’s ‘big box’ retail stores, supermarkets, and malls. For many years, any trip to a client’s store involved watching the other shoppers and observing the way they interacted with the music, smiling when they sang along and inwardly cheering when I caught someone grooving down the aisle in time to the beat. This research builds on my existing interest in music for public spaces, and utilises my ingrained people- watching habits that have been honed over years of creating characters for theatrical endeavours and then further enhanced by experience in crowd observation during my time on the staff at Vbase. These factors have given me a keen eye and an enhanced understanding of crowd mood and behaviour at music events. 118 Kris Vavasour (producer), “Harbour SouNZ,” Radio New Zealand National, Spectrum, 15 Nov 2009, http://www.radionz.co.nz/national/programmes/spectrum/20091115. 29 The two large earthquake events of 2010 and 2011 happened as I was undertaking part-time Honours study at UC – disrupting the end of my first year and postponing the start of my second year. Having been forced from our family home due to damage caused by the September earthquake, 119 over the last few years, research has been fitted around work commitments, insurance matters, the demolition and subsequent rebuilding of our house, and the general, everyday difficulties of life in a disaster zone, with all the stresses that entails. During this time, and especially in the brief window between discharging our existing mortgage and being encumbered with its larger successor, I attended more music gigs than at any other time in my adult life. I needed companionship, and I needed to be somewhere filled with music and people with friendly faces, somewhere that – once inside the doors – could be anywhere. Music was my happy place, with new and favourite musicians providing solace, entertainment, and an opportunity to escape, even if only briefly. This has therefore not been a research project in which there has been a clearly defined research phase followed by a separate writing phase. If thinking of research as “the whole process from defining a question to analysis and interpretation,” 120 this project has been more like a game of snakes and ladders, with changes of focus and question sending the research process back several squares more than once. At other times, Inception-like layers of related journal articles or media reports have provided a boost up the ladder, only to land on a hazard of some kind (e.g. work commitments, incompetent builders, aftershock cluster) and miss a few turns. This is what the research process feels like when the subject matter is the lived experience of yourself, your friends, your community, and those lives are playing out in a seismically-active disaster zone. 119 Disclosure: our family received a Red Cross relocation grant, the only grant applied for and received from any of the earthquake-related charities covered in this research. 120 Winchester and Rofe, “Qualitative Research and its Place,” 5. 30 Thanks in almost equal parts to an appreciation in late 2010 that media accounts might prove useful for future research and to my lax newspaper recycling habits of early 2011, when the February 22 nd earthquake hit, I already had the beginnings of a substantial personal news archive. Initially, the front sections of each edition of The Press, the city’s only daily newspaper, were kept (in ever-growing piles of boxes) until the main musical theme was decided upon. At this point, the newspapers were scoured for articles on music, musicians, fundraising events, as well as a variety of other themes around community and rebuilding issues, which were then cut out and stuck into A4-size scrapbooks. This practice has continued with almost every edition of The Press since then, and has been supplemented with online newspaper and magazine archives, broadcast news items and interviews, and writings on blogs, social media and websites. This easily-accessible archival material – which now spans four physical volumes of over 150 pages each, and many internet browser folders of bookmarks – has proven invaluable when seeking people’s thoughts and comments about different events and the emotions experienced or activities attempted at different times over the last five years. Rather than asking questions years after the fact and relying on potentially faulty memories, emotions and reactions have all been captured as they happened or shortly afterwards. Most of the comments and opinions included in this research were found in published form, with comments from musicians and commentators taken from new and traditional media outlets ranging from interviews with reporters or documentary film-makers, organisational and news websites, blog posts, social media comments, books, and my own radio documentary programme, Entertaining Shakeytown, 121 which aired in 2011. There is no shortage of publicly available comment on the earthquakes, and many of the musicians and organisers who feature in the following chapters are often sought out for or share their thoughts about the rebuild and recovery 121 Kris Vavasour (producer), “Entertaining Shakeytown,” Radio New Zealand National, Spectrum, 4 Sep 2011, http://www.radionz.co.nz/national/programmes/spectrum/20110904. 31 of the city, or are held up as shining examples of post-quake creativity and regeneration opportunities. There have also been many journal articles published on geotechnical and engineering aspects of the disaster, local and national government responses, community engagement and resilience, and the media coverage of the earthquakes. However, once engaged in the writing phase of the research process, a gap was identified in the available information about the engaging and seemingly successful All Right? campaign. Although the yearly Wellbeing survey results receive media coverage, and there was print and online media content about the individual campaign events, there was very little information around the motivations underpinning the strategies or tactics employed in the campaign as a whole. To fill this gap, an interview was undertaken with someone who has been working on the campaign since the beginning. There are two other research projects I have also been involved with that have influenced my thinking and broadened my perspective on the earthquake experiences of the wider city population. Even though none of the data collected in those projects has been used in this research, the hundreds of problems and frustrations that have been shared with me have left a lasting impression. The first was a survey conducted for one of my honours papers in September and October 2011, on the use of media during and after the immediate crisis period by residents of Christchurch and surrounding areas. 122 In answers to a variety of open-ended questions, respondents documented their experiences of being stranded far from home and unable to contact family members, of desperately trying to find information, of living without power or potable (drinking quality) water, of feeling frustrated by insurance procedures, let down by technology, cut off from online life, and misled by politicians. Almost 350 people completed the survey, with many taking full advantage of the opportunity to vent their frustrations about processes, organisations, individuals and the media. 122 Vavasour, “www.useless.com”. 32 In the second, and much longer project, I was one of three initial interviewers for the UC Quake Box project. 123 This started as a three month summer scholarship in late 2011, and continued as paid employment for several months after that. After the interviewing and transcribing protocols had been developed and the technological hitches sorted, this converted shipping container / recording studio was parked, first in Re:Start Mall and then at Eastgate Mall in Linwood, to interview local residents about their earthquake experiences. My role was to listen as they told their stories, using gentle prompts or questions to elicit additional information, and to provide a sympathetic ear and a shoulder to cry on when it all got too much, as it did for some. There have been over 730 recordings made with this project, and although the Quake Box itself is currently on hiatus, many of the stories told within its tiny footprint are now available online. 124 This experience was, at times, both eye-opening and emotionally draining, as an incredibly varied collection of experiences were remembered and relived in my presence, in a very small recording booth with unforgiving lighting. As a researcher examining my own social environment, I am constantly re- negotiating and re-evaluating the many identities and positions I occupy and encounter along the way. Although I am musical, I am not a musician, so although I consider myself to be an insider within the local music scene as fan and regular gig- goer, I am outside the circle of music performers. I am not a stranger to performance however, thanks to decades of involvement with amateur theatre and more recent attempts at belly dancing, which have both provided social connections and creative outlets. About ten years ago, while working as bar manager for one of the World Buskers Festival venues, I met a young woman named Coralie Winn, who was also part of the Buskers crew for that event, and a member of the experimental Free 123 “UC Quake Box,” New Zealand Institute of Language, Brain and Behaviour, n.d. ca. 2013, http://www.nzilbb.canterbury.ac.nz/QuakeBox.shtml. 124 “Quake Box Videos,” CEISMIC, n.d. http://www.ceismic.org.nz/search?q=QuakeBox%20Videos#page1. 33 Theatre collective. She would later go on to found Gap Filler with her partner, Ryan Reynolds and help create the Pallet Pavilion and the Dance-O-Mat, two venues I would spend considerable time at after the earthquakes. As a natural extension of many years of participation and volunteering in the creative sector, I was one of the many Christchurch residents who gave time to the Pallet Pavilion project. As a member of the Tribal Diva belly dance troupe, I was also one of hundreds of people and groups who performed at the Pavilion while it was open, and one of many thousands who have danced at the Dance-O-Mat. All of these aspects of my personal identity – event worker, homeowner, parent, audience member, performer, volunteer, interviewer, student, educator, and researcher – have been in play at one time or another. Over the last five years, a multitude of events have been attended and activities entered into with total conviction (and sometimes with more than a little reckless abandon), not because it provided research material and opportunities for participant-observation or other research techniques, but because this was simply life being lived. The Dux de Lux is a treasured Christchurch music venue and social space for many, and has been part of my life for perhaps a few years longer than it should have been, given my age now and the legal drinking age as it was in the 1990s. I remember going there for the first New Year’s Eve I enjoyed with my then-boyfriend (now husband), alternating between the packed bar indoors and the packed marquee outside, while music permeated the night air from all directions. This was pre-cellphone days, so when my partner and I got separated early on, there was no way to get in contact and reconnect but this did nothing to dampen the spirits. Christchurch is a small city, and there was always someone familiar to catch up with at the Dux – and we did eventually reunite before heading home. 34 Like many others after the earthquakes, I was distraught at the damage wrought on the old building, and watched the dispute between the Dux management and the Arts Centre Trust Board play out in the media. Given the number of people among my circle of friends who enjoy music, and especially live music, as much as I do, word of the Save Our Dux Facebook group reached me not long after it was started. So I joined out of genuine interest in a favourite shared space, although I didn’t really contribute to the discussions but used the group more as a source of info on progress made towards repairs or reopening. Towards the end of 2012, when activity in the group had died down substantially, most of the discussion content was copied and archived to my computer for future reference. This proved to be a good move, as some time later when I went back to the group, many of the comments and posts made by Dux management had been deleted. The examples and stories contained in the following chapters are not an exhaustive catalogue of the musical responses to the earthquakes but those selected show the sheer breadth and depth of the contributions made to the recovery process by music and musicians. Much of the research on the role of music in fundraising after disaster appears to focus on star-studded telethons and large-scale concerts, ignoring the voices of the many lesser-known artists who also contribute through time and energy, often on many separate occasions, in different locations and with a variety of fellow performers. Those who attend these charity events will pay at the door or throw coins into a bucket (or both) but there is also a significant contribution made by the artists involved, as they also contribute financially – usually by foregoing payment – and have probably also incurred costs in order to play. Although I did not participate in or attend every event depicted, I have utilised the accounts of others, often drawing on multiple sources to reconstruct the storyline and fill in the background of the performers and their connections and motivations, where possible. It is not possible, however, to calculate the amount of money raised 35 by musical events in New Zealand for the people of Christchurch, as the charitable funds do not detail where the money came or how much individual donations were, only the total amount donated and to which purpose the funds were allocated. Where known, the ticket price or the method of collecting donations has been included, as well as the intended destination of the funds raised. When considering cultural products, popularity can become a numbers game (for example, analysing sales figures or audience ratings), which reduces cultural items to “the status of objects to be bought and sold… [ignoring] the social nature of their consumption”. 125 When the bonds of community have been stretched to breaking point, it is the social aspects of cultural products like music, that become incredibly important. These uses and benefits are not always easily identifiable from the outside, or to outsiders, as the many layers of meaning, interpretations, and reactions, rely on a substantial amount of background knowledge about people, places and events. After a disaster, there are many cultural products made that will float to the surface for inspection, and much of it will be available (or at least discussed) on the internet and accessible to anyone. The popular culture of disaster does not always appear in tangible or lasting form. From dark humour to street corner performances, from protest signs to voicebreaks on radio, the popular culture of disaster is not always a product that can be bought, sold, or counted – it is often something that can only be experienced. When examining the use of popular music after disaster, the songs that are written, remixed and performed are just one part of the equation. The uses that existing music is put to by non-musicians to make sense of chaos, to ease the pain of loss, to bring joy, and to reclaim the spaces and places around them – these are the moments where the biggest benefits can be found, but only if you know where to look. 125 Shuker, Understanding Popular Music Culture, 4. 36 This should not be seen as diminishing the importance of the financial contributions raised by musicians and others involved in producing telethons or large- scale music concerts. But the fundraising events and musical numbers that are broadcast or otherwise distributed around the world are just the cream of the crop – in that they rise to the surface and are easy to skim off. These mega-events and hit songs form just the tip of a much larger musical iceberg, and there is a huge range of events and a wide cross-section of the music community involved in smaller fundraising efforts that often go unrecognised. 37 Chapter 4: Music as fundraiser In the period immediately after a disaster, the thoughts of many turn towards ways of helping the affected area and its people. Given that not everyone has the skills necessary to be physically useful or the ability to travel to the location of the disaster, many look for ways to donate or raise funds. This chapter explores the concept of disaster relief and illustrates how a wide variety of musicians donated time, songs, or personal items for charitable purposes. There were a variety of musical events organised to raise funds by both New Zealand and international artists, and although there were several events held overseas, it is the events that took place within New Zealand that have been focused on for this research. Several artists that were due to play, or had just played, in Christchurch had their performance and travel plans disrupted by the earthquake of February 22 nd , 2011. As well as noting the repercussions to schedules of musicians, their efforts to help and ultimately fulfil their plans of performing in Christchurch, have also been documented. While there was a multitude of live events taking place in the weeks and months after the February quake, there were also several fundraising singles and album releases that eventuated to raise funds for worthy causes, including one album that was recorded and released within just a few weeks, in the middle of all the chaos and destruction. Connections between musicians, place, and disaster are explored through some of the live performances and recorded output created after the earthquakes. Other aspects like the emotional benefits of live or recorded music, and the relationship of individual songs to both people and place is also considered. A wide range of reasons and motivations behind artists’ involvement with various projects have been uncovered, which adds further layers of depth to the relationships between musicians, place, and disaster. 38 Earthquake Relief The phrase ‘earthquake relief’ (or ‘disaster relief’) is generally used to describe monetary donations collected for the benefit of victims of a catastrophic event. Donations are often solicited through star-studded, televised fundraising events which, through their simplified depictions of often complex situations, help to perpetuate the discourse that disasters are “a short-term problem that can largely be remedied by collecting money and supporting relief aid”. 126 Whether staging a telethon or music concert, these charity media events use celebrity involvement to increase visibility and media coverage of the event, and to encourage engagement and giving among the public. 127 In becoming involved in charitable causes, celebrities and musicians not only lend their exclusivity and ‘X-factor’ to the event, they in turn receive positive publicity that can enhance their own career or reputation. 128 Some of these findings can be seen in the events that took place for Christchurch earthquake relief, especially the use of well-known musicians and star power to raise awareness and funds. Given the transient and interconnected nature of the occupation (and associated lifestyle), musicians often find themselves with some kind of link to a disaster zone – through bandmates, crew, travels, or personal experience of a similar situation – any of which can lead to a desire to help. Christchurch music journalist, Vicki Anderson, says the music community is “connected by invisible strands, [and] when one of its number is in trouble, [it] rallies together”. 129 As with many previous disasters, the devastation caused by earthquakes in Christchurch became a cause supported by musicians near and far. The local and international music community 126 Olivier Driessens, Stijn Joye, and Daniel Biltereyst, “The X-factor of charity: a critical analysis of celebrities’ involvement in the 2010 Flemish and Dutch Haiti relief shows,” Media, Culture & Society 34, no. 6 (2012): 721. 127 Ibid., 716. 128 Ibid., 713. 129 Vicki Anderson, “A light in the darkness,” Press, 18 Mar 2011, sec. GO 2. 39 reached out to the city and its residents in a variety of ways: by staging large public performances and intimate sing-alongs; producing fundraising singles and albums; and by donating costumes or instruments for auction. For example, Richard O’Brien, creator of the cult classic, The Rocky Horror Picture Show, donated the jacket and guitar he used on stage during the show’s 2010 season at Christchurch’s Isaac Theatre Royal to the Red Cross for auction. 130 Musicians of all styles and stature donated ticket revenue, merchandise profits, time, and music to raise funds for the broken city and its equally shattered residents. Research on charitable giving and the use of musicians or celebrities in disaster fundraising tends to focus on large-scale media events like aid concerts and telethons. These have been described as formulaic events that utilise mass media, celebrity involvement, and popular music to maximise monetary donations for disaster relief, 131 and have been criticised for “turning compassion into charitainment, that is, an (overly) entertaining and light version of charity”, 132 with events that often overshadow the disaster itself. However, musical charity takes place in many forms after disaster, and the benefits the flow from these events cannot always be defined simply in terms of viewer numbers or donation tallies, nor can they be measured objectively. This is not to say that fundraising is unimportant but it should be remembered that, depending on the perspective of the recipient, the ‘relief’ they receive (or consider to be of most value) may not be financial. There were four major charitable funds created in response to the Christchurch earthquakes, to which most of the money raised through musical events was donated. There was the Red Cross Earthquake Appeal (which raised $125 130 “For sale – no strings attached,” Press, 11 Dec 2010, A5. 131 McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster,” 27. 132 Driessens, Joye, and Biltereyst, “The X-factor of charity,” 710 (emphasis in original). 40 million); 133 the government-organised Christchurch Earthquake Appeal (nearly $100 million); 134 the Salvation Army Canterbury Earthquake Appeal ($18.5 million); 135 and the Christchurch Earthquake Mayoral Relief Fund ($7.4 million). 136 Targeted funds such as these allow ordinary people to assist with relief efforts after disaster without the need for specialist training or physical presence, thus “fulfilling their moral obligation to respond [and providing] a way for a global public to respond supportively during an overwhelming tragedy”. 137 Backed by government or global agencies, these funds are also easily identifiable recipients for the money collected at fundraising events, with no further thought required from the public or event organisers as to how it is spent. Televised events There were two televised earthquake fundraisers for Christchurch but only one was actually conceived as a media event. In response to the February earthquake, New Zealand television personality, Brooke Howard-Smith, organised a twelve-hour telethon, Rise Up Christchurch. 138 This event, held exactly three months after the devastating earthquake, was hosted by state-funded broadcaster, Maori TV, and featured a plethora of local and international celebrities. Heavyweight boxer Shane Cameron, actors Anna Pacquin and Martin Henderson, HRH Prince Edward, and short films from Sir Peter Jackson and Sir Ian McKellen all featured in the event. 139 The 133 Red Cross, “New Zealand Red Cross 2011 Christchurch Earthquake Appeal to close,” 27 Nov 2011, https://www.redcross.org.nz/yk- files/831da57551851361b62cf48034040e94/Christchurch-Earthquake-Appeal-Closure- November-2012.pdf. 134 Christchurch Appeal Trust, “Annual Report 2014/15,” Sept 2015, http://christchurchappealtrust.org.nz/vwluResources/Annual%20Report%202014-15%20- %20Full%20Report/$file/CEAT_2014-15%20Annual%20Report_web.pdf. 135 Michael Wright and Georgina Stylianou, “Call to get $90m left in relief funds to needy,” Press, 19 Jun 2012, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/christchurch-earthquake- 2011/7125669/Call-to-get-90m-left-in-relief-funds-to-needy. 136 Ibid. 137 McAlister, “Soundscapes of Disaster,” 28. 138 Paul Harper, “Revamped telethon to help Christchurch,” Herald, 20 May 2011, http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10726875. 139 Ibid. 41 telethon raised over $2.5 million dollars, and donated auction items included a signed guitar from rock band the Foo Fighters (which sold for $15,000), a signed guitar from Katy Perry ($5000), a pair of limited edition Gucci shoes from Lady Gaga ($4300), and tour sneakers from Usher ($925). 140 The global star power of this event was high, with artists, entertainers and royalty all lending their ‘X-factor’ in order to raise the profile (and donation tally), and potentially benefitting from the association with the cause, by projecting a caring and helpful image. It is not only celebrities who look for the reflected glories of charitable behaviour – dairy giant Fonterra gave $500,000 towards production costs associated with the telethon as well as a one million dollar donation, while transport company Mainfreight pledged $250,000. 141 The other television event was the Band Together concert in Christchurch’s Hagley Park in October 2010 – the content, contributors, and atmosphere of which will be covered in more detail later in this chapter. Although the eight-hour, two-stage event was a little telethon-esque by the time it took place, it was initially planned as a simple gig for weary residents. The TV3 broadcast, the radio simulcast on MoreFM, online streaming via the TV3 website, and the co-ordinated fundraising efforts that brought in over $1.5 million dollars in cash and donated goods or services, were all afterthoughts. 142 However, the majority of musical fundraising activities were not media events nor were they all large in scale – they took place in town halls, community centres, parks, and pubs, and were witnessed only by those who attended, with donations more likely to be anonymous coins in a bucket than publically declared million-dollar pledges. 140 NZPA, “Rise Up Christchurch telethon raises more than $2.5m,” Stuff, 22 May 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/christchurch-earthquake/5038282/Rise-Up-Christchurch- telethon-raises-more-than-2-5m; NZPA, “Foo Fighters guitar raises $15k for quake relief,” 3News, 23 May 2011, http://www.3news.co.nz/nznews/foo-fighters-guitar-raises-15k-for- quake-relief-2011052305#axzz3xXtCrAyM. 141 NZPA, “Foo Fighters guitar raises $15k”. 142 Paul Ellis, “Band Together,” n.d., ca 2010, http://paulellispublicity.co.nz/portfolio/band- together/. 42 Live events Whether events were organised specifically to raise funds or donations were collected at pre-planned events, the live music scene provided significant contributions to a variety of charities and earthquake-related causes. The Eventfinda website lists 100 New Zealand earthquake fundraisers from March to June 2011, of which nearly half are musical. 143 The events ranged from touring early music orchestra, The Lautten Compagney, who took donations for the Christchurch Earthquake Appeal at a special performance of their Handel with Care concert, to children’s entertainers, The Wiggles, who donated all remaining tickets to their upcoming Christchurch shows to local residents. There were several multi-artist benefit concerts such as Taranaki 4 Canterbury at the TSB Bowl of Brooklands in New Plymouth (March 2011), Quake Day Out (From Rodney With Love) at the Western Reserve in Orewa (April 2011), and Rotorua Rocks for Christchurch at the Energy Events Centre in Rotorua (June 2011). These events had ticket prices ranging from $10 to $35, and proceeds from all three went to the Red Cross Earthquake Appeal. The acts varied from amateur performers to household names and the Taranaki 4 Canterbury concert featured a strong Christchurch line-up, with performances from Anika Moa, the Eastern, OpShop, and the Dukes. 144 One fundraising event made the most of a timely visit by an international star. Britain’s Got Talent winner, Paul Potts, was in New Zealand ahead of a tour starting in mid-April when he was approached by classical/crossover singer and friend, Lizzie Marvelly, to appear at a fundraising concert she was helping to organise. To Christchurch With Love was held at Auckland’s Bruce Mason Centre on April 2 nd , 145 143 Eventfinda, “Christchurch earthquake relief fundraising events,” n.d., ca 2011, www.eventfinda.co.nz/tour/2011/christchurch-earthquake-relief-fundraising-events. 144 “Taranaki 4 Canterbury,” n.d. ca 2011, http://www.eventfinda.co.nz/2011/mar/new- plymouth/taranaki-canterbury. 145 “To Christchurch with Love,” n.d. ca 2011, http://www.eventfinda.co.nz/2011/apr/takapuna/to-christchurch-with-love. 43 and Potts joined fellow opera singers Marvelly, Dame Malvina Major, and Tim Beveridge, along with classic New Zealand entertainers Ray Woolf, Suzanne Lynch, Rikki Morris, and Gray Bartlett. The evening drew heavily on celebrity involvement and included elements of telethon, with items for auction and appearances by “some of New Zealand’s favourite television personalities”, like actors Shane Cortese and Robyn Malcom. 146 Tickets for this gala event were $99 each, or $300 with pre- and post-show functions, and all proceeds went to the Red Cross Earthquake Appeal. 147 Immediately after the disaster struck, many musicians and venues around the country began organising fundraising events for the people of Christchurch. A group of ska and reggae artists put on a benefit gig, Stand Rocksteady for Christchurch, at The Thirsty Dog bar in Auckland, with a $10 entry fee that went to the Red Cross. 148 Alt-country pair, Tami Neilson and Lauren Thomson, were touring their Chanteuses and Shotguns show, and were supposed to play at the Harbourlight bar in Lyttelton on March 4 th . After the earthquakes put paid to that, they instead organised a special fundraiser at Osborne Street Bar & Kitchen in Auckland, with the $15 door charge going to the Christchurch Earthquake Appeal. 149 Wellington bar Bodega hosted Rock Relief for Christchurch which featured seven local bands, with the Red Cross appeal benefitting from the $15 door charge. 150 Also in Wellington, Cuba Street bars and venues worked together to create Cuba 4 Chch, a multi-venue, multi-artist event with a $10 entry ‘passport’ that awarded access to all venues on the night. Many Wellington-based performers were involved, and Christchurch noise merchants, 146 Ibid. 147 “Paul Potts to headline Christchurch Earthquake gig,” Stuff, 7 Mar 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/music/4739999/Paul-Potts-to-headline-Christchurch- earthquake-gig. 148 “Stand Rocksteady for Christchurch,” n.d. ca 2011, http://www.eventfinda.co.nz/2011/mar/newton/stand-rocksteady-for-christchurch. 149 “Chanteuses & Shotguns Christchurch Fundraiser,” n.d. ca. 2011, http://www.eventfinda.co.nz/2011/mar/newmarket/chanteuses-shotguns-christchurch- fundraiser. 150 “Rock Relief for Christchurch,” n.d. ca. 2011, http://www.eventfinda.co.nz/2011/apr/wellington/rock-relief-for-christchurch. 44 Bang! Bang! Eche!, were flown up to perform at the event, with all proceeds from the passports and donation buckets going to the Red Cross. 151 2: Dancing for Canterbury – Whitireia students fundraising in Cuba Mall, Wellington (March 2011) After the earthquake struck, one band altered their schedule to fit in a new gig in a completely different country. Los Angeles based rockers, the Foo Fighters, were planning their Wasting Light album tour and reacted swiftly to news of disasters on both sides of the Tasman Sea. The Foo Fighters had friends from Los Angeles, members of Queens of the Stone Age and The Melvins, who were either in, or travelling to, Christchurch at the time of the earthquake and so the band were being sent updates and first-hand reports as the action unfolded. 152 Foo Fighters’ bass player, Nate Mendel, says the band wanted to show their support, “to offer some comfort to the people of Christchurch that there are people standing in their corner”. 153 As lead singer, Dave Grohl, sees it, “this is the least we can do, I mean, we just come out and play a gig – we do that five nights a week, you know?”. 154 Despite the band wanting 151 “Cuba 4 Chch,” n.d. ca. 2011, http://www.eventfinda.co.nz/2011/mar/wellington/cuba- chch. 152 David Farrier, “Foo Fighters chat about Christchurch charity gig,” 22 Mar 2011, http://www.3news.co.nz/tvshows/campbelllive/foo-fighters-chat-about-christchurch-charity- gig-2011032215#axzz3xXtCrAyM. 153 Quoted in Vicki Anderson, “Band win a mum’s heart,” Press, 23 Apr 2011, A3. 154 Quoted in Farrier, “Foo Fighters chat”. 45 to perform in Christchurch itself, damage to venues and infrastructure at the time made hosting an event of any size a logistical nightmare, and the band members were told that it was not possible. 155 Tickets to their concert at the Auckland Town Hall were priced at $175 and $250, with proceeds going to the Christchurch Earthquake Appeal. 156 The Foo Fighters played their Christchurch fundraising concert on March 22 nd , before heading to Australia to officially start their tour in Sydney on the 24 th . The band then travelled to Brisbane on March 27 th for a concert to raise funds for victims of flooding in Queensland. 157 The Foo Fighters are from Los Angeles and, although Mendel has previously experienced earthquakes first-hand, he says they were “nothing like what the people in Christchurch went through”. 158 A few days after the February earthquake, Grohl posted a video urging people to donate to the Christchurch Earthquake Appeal and said that he and the band hoped “to bring a little bit of happiness back into your lives”. 159 During their Auckland show they dedicated their song, My Hero, to the shaken city and to one young victim in particular. This kind act brought a small amount of sunshine into what was a very dark time for one Christchurch family. Isaac Thompson, a keen musician and Foo Fighters fan, was working as a production technician at Canterbury Television (CTV) when he was killed in the CTV building collapse on February 22 nd . 160 As his coffin – shaped like a Fender guitar – was carried out of the church after his funeral, My Hero was the song playing. His mother, Rebecca, who was among those who travelled up to Auckland from Christchurch for 155 Ibid. 156 “Foo Fighters – Earthquake Benefit Show”. 157 “Foo Fighters – Earthquake Benefit Show,” n.d. ca. 2011, http://www.eventfinda.co.nz/2011/mar/auckland-cbd/foo-fighters-earthquake-benefit- show. 158 Quoted in Anderson, “Band win a mum’s heart”. 159 Quoted in 3News, “Foo Fighters’ Grohl’s message to Christchurch,” 3News, 4 Mar 2011, http://www.3news.co.nz/entertainment/video-foo-fighters-grohls-message-to-christchurch- 2011030412#axzz3xXtCrAyM. 160 Anderson, “Band win a mum’s heart”. 46 the concert, said she appreciated the dedication and that the band members were heroes in her eyes. 161 It was not until February 2015 that the Foo Fighters finally made it down to the (still) broken city of Christchurch. From the stage at AMI Stadium, in front of 27,000 people, Grohl described a drive he had taken earlier that day, following the river Avon until he “ended up in neighbourhoods with houses and no people”. 162 The emptiness of these ‘ghost suburbs’, where residents have been forcibly moved on, can be jarring to visitors, but Grohl said that by the time he reached the ocean, he was glad to be performing for “this city with these beautiful people”. Generous with their time and energy, the band have promised to come back and put on a free show next time they visit, “in the park or by the beach. It might not be until 2027, but we’ll do it”. 163 Given the band’s good nature and their willingness to help after disaster, the people of Christchurch should expect that promise to be kept one day. The Foo Fighters’ fellow Los Angeles rockers, Queens of the Stone Age (QotSA), were originally due to perform in Christchurch on February 24, 2011, and were in Wellington when the earthquake hit. It was three years before they were able to schedule another visit to the city, this time while touring with Nine Inch Nails (NIN). QotSA frontman, Josh Homme, insisted on including Christchurch in the tour, saying “I come from earthquake territory too, I get it. We don’t want to just play, we want to help in some way, too”. 164 The double-bill concert in March 2014 was the 161 Ibid. 162 Vicki Anderson, “Foo Fighters concert ‘best Wednesday night in Chch ever’,” Stuff, 19 Feb 2015, http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/music/gig-reviews/66378450/Foo-Fighters- concert-best-Wednesday-night-in-Chch-ever. 163 Ibid. 164 Quoted in “Frontman insists on Chch gig,” Press, 10 Oct 2013, A4. 47 final leg of their Australasian tour, after which proceeds from T-shirt sales on tour were donated to an (undisclosed) earthquake charity. 165 When the Melvins played at AL’s Bar in Christchurch on February 21 2011, venue owner, Al Park, remembered thinking they would be hard act to follow. 166 The Melvins were at Christchurch airport on the 22 nd , which was evacuated when the earthquake struck and then closed, disrupting the band’s travel plans and forcing them to rearrange their Wellington and Auckland shows. 167 After finishing the New Zealand leg of the tour, the Melvins toured Australia before travelling to Japan, where they were caught in the magnitude 9.0 Tokohu earthquake that struck on the afternoon of their final Tokyo show. 168 Frontman, Buzz Osborne, was quoted as saying, “What are the odds of us being in TWO major earthquakes on TWO continents in about TWO weeks? In the billions?”. 169 Osborne, a self-described ‘quake coward’, would have been relieved to get home to Los Angeles after a tour that was punctuated at either end by destructive earthquakes. Park says the Melvins turned out to be “a great last act” for AL’s bar – there would be no more gigs at the popular bar as the building was later demolished. 170 Booked to play at AL’s bar on the night of the 22 nd was American artiste, Amanda Palmer, who was in Napier at the time the earthquake struck, getting ready to 165 Tom Cardy, “Queens of the Stone Age join Wellington rockfest,” Dominion Post, 21 Jan 2014, http://www.stuff.co.nz/dominion-post/culture/9630315/Queens-of-the-Stone-Age- join-Wellington-rockfest. 166 Vicki Anderson, “End comes for popular AL’s Bar,” Press, 15 Aug 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/christchurch-earthquake-2011/5443146/End-comes- for-popular-ALs-Bar. 167 “The Melvins + High On Fire Tour Update,” Under The Radar, 22 Feb 2011, http://www.undertheradar.co.nz/utr/more/NID/3131/The-Melvins--High-On-Fire-Tour- Update.utr. 168 Randall Roberts, “First New Zealand, now Japan: The Melvins experience second earthquake in as many months [Updated],” 11 Mar 2011, http://latimesblogs.latimes.com/music_blog/2011/03/first-new-zealand-now-japan-the- melvins-experience-second-earthquake-in-as-many-months.html. 169 Ibid. (emphasis in original) 170 Anderson, “End comes for popular AL’s Bar”. 48 fly down to Christchurch for the gig. 171 Palmer never made it to the city that day, and instead spent the afternoon tweeting earthquake updates and posting information and photos to her blog from Napier, feeling grateful her flight was not an hour earlier or she would have been in the middle of the chaos. While reflecting on her recent good fortune at narrowly avoiding disasters (Iceland’s volcanic ash cloud, the Queensland floods, and now the Christchurch earthquake), Palmer was nonetheless devastated she couldn’t get down to do her planned show. If travel to Christchurch had been at all possible, Palmer said she “would have done SOMETHING in the middle of a VERY SAFE field so we could have all been together”, but promised to keep people updated about “ticket refunds, re-scheduling, and what I can do to make you feel better”. 172 At the end of her blog post, Palmer provided a link to the Red Cross website for those who wanted to donate, as “those guys are always a safe bet”, as well as links to information, assistance, the Google people-finder, and details of the #eqnz hashtag. The comments section was then opened up for locals and others to share their thoughts and links to other local aid organizations that may be of use, providing virtual and human links in a time of need. Nearly a year after her cancelled gig at AL’s Bar, Amanda Palmer finally made it to Christchurch in January 2012, as one half of the Dresden Dolls, with Brian Viglione on drums. This time there was none of the intimate, standing-room-only atmosphere provided by a small inner city bar, instead the show was booked in the large, seated auditorium of the Aurora Centre. One benefit of the increase in venue size is the potential for a larger audience, which might increase the amount of money going to the Earthquake Relief Fund. However, money is not a driving force for Palmer, and many of the audience at the Aurora Centre gig were put on the door list for free entry during the few days she spent in the city before the show. Palmer says 171 Amanda Palmer, “Christchurch canceled [sic] due to massive earthquake”, 22 Feb 2011, http://blog.amandapalmer.net/christchurch-canceled-due-to-massive-earthquake/. 172 Ibid., caps in original. 49 she hates to see people priced out of events and, although she tries to keep prices down to $25 in the United States, she has limited control elsewhere and has seen ticket prices in New Zealand rise to around $60. 173 Palmer was frustrated, as not only did she think the place look like a warzone with piles of rubble on the ground, but her impression was that “people here are broke. I’d rather eat it and lose a little bit of money and bring music to everyone who wanted it”. 174 News that other touring bands or artists were bypassing the city out of fear or due to the state of the economy only strengthened her resolve to do what she could in the short time she was visiting. During their stay, Palmer and Viglione teamed up with Hera, an Icelandic- born singer who lives in Christchurch – not only for their evening concert but also to perform what Palmer calls a ‘ninja gig’ (a free, short-notice event) for the ‘Occupy Christchurch’ protesters in a section of Hagley Park. 175 The Occupy Movement started in September 2011 as ‘Occupy Wall Street’ in Manhattan, New York, a protest against the “corrosive power of major banks and multinational corporations [and] the richest 1% of people that are writing the rules of an unfair global economy”. 176 The protests spread around the world and by October, camps had been set up in six New Zealand cities, 177 including one in a small section of Hagley Park. Numbers were not high at the Christchurch camp and the atmosphere was relatively low-key with none of the violent protests or arrests seen elsewhere. 178 Palmer had performed at other Occupy sites around the world, and wanted to support the cause and the protesters because she felt they needed a boost – something that was true about the city as a whole. Although ostensibly a fundraising event, the Dresden Dolls concert later that evening was as 173 Amanda Palmer, “Playing the Violent Femmes & Meeting PJ,” 24 Jan 2012, http://blog.amandapalmer.net/playing-the-violent-femmes-meeting-pj/. 174 Ibid. 175 “Artist backs protesters,” Press, 20 Jan 2012, A2. 176 “About,” Occupy Wall Street, n.d. ca. 2011, http://occupywallst.org/about/. 177 “‘Occupy’ movement reaches New Zealand,” Herald, 15 Oct 2011, http://www.nzherald.co.nz/business/news/article.cfm?c_id=3&objectid=10759149. 178 Nicole Mathewson, “Occupy Christchurch marks 100 days,” Press, 24 Jan 2012, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/6302070/Occupy-Christchurch-marks-100-days. 50 much about raising the roof as it was about raising funds, about boosting the spirit as well as the coffers. Palmer described the audience at the Aurora Centre as having a “ghostly restlessness… but they seem[ed] to come alive fast. And good lord, they need laughter, energy and escape more than anyone around here”. 179 Living in a rubble-strewn wasteland does indeed make any escape – even a temporary, musically- inspired one – something to treasure. One artist who did experience the full, violent impact of the Christchurch earthquake is Will Martin – a Wellington-born, Los Angeles-based operatic tenor who became the youngest man to top the UK Classical Charts with his debut album in 2008. 180 Martin was booked to perform for the first time in Christchurch at the Isaac Theatre Royal in late February and had already arrived in the city. On February 22 nd , he made an early finish to an interview at the local television station, CTV, in order to have lunch with a former teacher, now headmaster at Medbury School. 181 This decision meant he was not in the CTV building when it collapsed, killing 115 people. Martin kept a promise he made that day, and returned to the city in October 2011 to perform a fundraising concert at Medbury School, with proceeds going to the Red Cross Earthquake Appeal. 182 While most fundraising events gave their donations to the two highest-profile funds – the Red Cross Earthquake Appeal and the Christchurch Earthquake Appeal – several artists selected specific causes or organisations to support. Irish singer, Mary Coughlan, was originally booked to perform as part of the Jazz and Blues Festival in May 2011 but, like most events scheduled around that time, the festival was cancelled due to the general levels of damage and ongoing earthquakes. Coughlan instead agreed to perform, without payment, for a fundraising concert in April 2011, with all 179 Palmer, “Playing the Violent Femmes & Meeting PJ” . 180 “Profile,” Will Martin, n.d. ca. 2010 http://www.willmartin.co.nz/profile. 181 Charley Mann, “RWC singer fulfills pledge,” Press, 27 Oct 2011, A3. 182 Ibid. 51 proceeds going to the Christchurch City Mission. The sold-out event at the Aurora Centre raised over $10,000 through ticket sales, and audience members were also asked to bring non-perishable food items so the Mission’s bank balance and cupboards could both be replenished in a time of great need. 183 Some artists returned to their hometown to perform in support of their communities. Former choirboy, James Reid, took to the stage at his old school in November 2011 for a concert to raise funds for the restoration of Christ Church Cathedral. The Christ’s College school hall heard rock songs with a classical twist and a few rocky hymns as the Cathedral Choir teamed up with Reid’s band, the Feelers. 184 The Feelers formed in Christchurch in 1993, not long after Reid left school, and over a fifteen year period the multi award-winning band produced four number-one albums in a row – a New Zealand record. 185 Reid, who has fond memories of his time in the Christ Church Cathedral choir, considers the Cathedral to be “the heart of our city and it seems fitting that through music we can help to rebuild it”. 186 Tickets for the event ranged from $30 for school students to $60 for a VIP experience, which included the chance to mingle with the band and choir after the concert. 187 However, while it appears there is a will, there is not yet a way – five years after the Cathedral was damaged, the Anglican church and heritage advocates are still at loggerheads over whether to demolish and rebuild, or stabilise and repair the iconic building. 188 Although rebuild progress in some areas has been slow, there are some successful building projects that have enjoyed musical support. Flight of the 183 Vicki Anderson, “Coughlan sings for the needy’s supper,” Press, 29 Apr 2011, A6 184 “Once more, choristers, with Feelers,” Press, 7 Nov 2011, A8; ““The Feelers” in concert – with Cathedral Choir,” Cathedral Grammar, http://www.cathedralgrammar.school.nz/news/6521-the-feelers-in-concert-with-cathedral- choir. 185 “The Band,” The Feelers, n.d. ca. 2014, http://thefeelers.co.nz/theband. 186 ““The Feelers” in concert”. 187 Ibid. 188 Michael Wright, “Anglican Church to consider reinstating Christ Church Cathedral,” Press, 23 Dec 2015, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/business/the-rebuild/75408052/Anglican- Church-to-consider-reinstating-Christ-Church-Cathedral. 52 Conchords (FotC) threw their Grammy Award-winning weight behind a children’s respite care centre and a grand old theatre. More than 9000 people attended the FotC concert at the CBS Arena in June 2012, and profits were split between the Cholmondeley Children’s Centre in Governor’s Bay and the Isaac Theatre Royal in the central city. 189 The original Cholmondeley homestead, that housed over 25,000 local children over the course of 86 years, was demolished after the earthquakes rendered it structurally unsafe. 190 After nearly four years operating from temporary premises, Cholmondeley returned home to Governor’s Bay and a brand new, purpose- built facility in October 2015. 191 The Isaac Theatre Royal, built in 1908 with a French Renaissance-style interior, was saved from complete collapse by earthquake strengthening work carried out in 1999/2000. 192 However, damage was extensive and the theatre was carefully deconstructed and then rebuilt with all its key heritage features repaired and reinstated before re-opening in November 2014. Christchurch musicians have been faced with many obstacles since the earthquakes, with a lot of former venues and rehearsal spaces either damaged or demolished. An approach to Billy Bragg’s management company was made by Jeff Fulton, of the Christchurch Music Industry Trust (CHART), which lead to a fundraising concert at the Aurora Centre in October 2012. Funds were donated to CHART’s Beatbox project, 193 a box-like, modular rehearsal space for Christchurch musicians, and a major construction project for a small organisation. British folk/punk singer-songwriter, Billy Bragg, who has been a regular visitor to these shores over his 30-year career, was in the early stages of organising a New Zealand tour when the 189 “Business time at last for Canty fans,” Press, 27 Jun 2012, A1. 190 Georgina Stylianou, “‘Cracked’ children’s home set to fall,” Press, 21 Nov 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/christchurch-earthquake-2011/6002389/Cracked- childrens-home-set-to-fall. 191 Jody O’Callaghan, “Cholmondeley Children’s Centre returns home to Governor’s Bay,” 9 Oct 2015, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/72876844/Cholmondeley-Childrens- Centre-returns-home-to-Governors-Bay. 192 “Theatre History, 2011 Earthquakes,” Isaac Theatre Royal, n.d. ca 2012 193 Vicki Anderson, “Bragging Rights,” Press, 10 Aug 2012, sec. GO 11 53 request came through and said the timing could not have been better. 194 The difficulties of the post-quake music scene quickly became apparent for Bragg when trying to find a suitable venue for his show, but he said he preferred to come do a gig and “actually connect with the community in a deeper way [rather] than just sending a cheque”. 195 Bragg’s eventual choice of venue, the 700-seat Aurora Centre at Burnside High School, has been heavily booked since the earthquakes as it was one of the few functional performance venues in the city for quite some time. Some musicians took a very hands-on approach to fundraising after the earthquakes, with one musical Christchurch family creating, touring with, and finally auctioning some specially made instruments. The Heart Strings guitar project created beauty out of destruction by using timber from some of Christchurch’s destroyed historic buildings to create seven unique guitars, each named after the main building source. Hand-crafted by Bruce Pickering, with help from his son, Jason, the guitars’ contours represent the rivers of the city and the jarring changes to the landscape, while also honouring the city’s lost heritage. 196 The Heart Strings guitars were taken on an acoustic tour of New Zealand with Christchurch musician and former Stars in their Eyes winner, Mandy Pickering, before being displayed at Te Papa (the national museum in Wellington) and then auctioned. 197 Jason and Mandy Pickering lost their home to the earthquakes and created the Heart Strings project as a positive way to help support the rebuilding of Christchurch’s music and arts communities, 198 with the money raised at auction to be managed and distributed by Creative New Zealand. 199 194 “Lindon Puffin vs Billy Bragg [extended version],” NZ Musician Aug/Sept 2012, http://www.nzmusician.co.nz/index.php/ps_pagename/article/pi_articleid/2892/Lindon- Puffin-vs-Billy-Bragg-extended-version. 195 Ibid. 196 Vicki Anderson, “Sweet sounds keep memories of lost buildings alive,” Press, 5 Dec 2011, A4. 197 Ibid., “Guitars tug at heart strings,” Press, 9 Feb 2012, A5. 198 Ibid., “Touch your Heart Strings,” Press, 20 Jan 2012, sec. GO 9. 199 Ibid., “Guitars tug at heart strings”. 54 Personal connections between internationally-acclaimed musicians and those directly involved with the situation in Christchurch made for some uplifting musical moments. In the quest to design a new campus, the inner-city secondary school, Unlimited Paenga Tawhiti, 200 engaged with international organisation, Architecture for Humanity. 201 The design group has connections with Grammy Award-winning artist, Imogen Heap, and she agreed to take time out of an international tour in April 2011 to perform a fundraising concert for the school, in Christchurch. A festival in Auckland she had been due to play at was cancelled and Heap felt that “Christchurch could probably do with a little musical distraction”. 202 Her intimate solo performance at the Aurora Centre was described as a magical example of how the power of music can overcome hard times, providing the opportunity “to crack smiles rather than concrete, to transform shaking into rocking, and, most importantly of all, to wring meaning and hope from tragedy and heartache”. 203 The school has been operating from a split campus in different suburbs but recently secured a central city site and hoped to have the new building operational for the 2017 school year. 204 However, negotiations with the developer were not successfully concluded, and the school is now back to the drawing board, looking for a new site. 205 The design and build process is estimated to take at least two years, which means that it will be at least 2018 before the school is back in its original neighbourhood. There was also magic and emotion aplenty when opera superstar, Placido Domingo, took to the stage of the CBS Canterbury Arena. Domingo cancelled a 200 After merging with primary school, Discovery One, the combined school is now known as Ao Tawhiti Unlimited Discovery. 201 Vicki Anderson, “Heap to perform,” Press, 23 Apr 2011, A11. 202 Quoted in “Songs for Christchurch,” Press, 5 Oct 2012, sec. GO 12. 203 Steve Carter, “Earthquake benefit brings out artistic excellence,” Press, 28 Apr 2011, A3. 204 Jody O’Callaghan, “Urban Christchurch school returns to the CBD,” Press, 11 Sep 2015, http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/education/71989095/urban-christchurch-school-returns-to- the-cbd.html. 205 Jody O’Callaghan and Liz McDonald, “New central Christchurch site for merger school Ao Tawhiti falls through,” Press, 17 Feb 2016, http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/education/76973958/new-central-christchurch-site-for- merger-school-ao-tawhiti-falls-through.html/ 55 previous engagement and agreed to perform for the city as he had personal experience with the ravages of disaster, losing four family members in the 1985 Mexico City earthquake. 206 There were personal links to Christchurch too – Domingo is the patron of Christchurch-based Southern Opera, a company founded by long-term friend and former singing colleague, Christopher Doig. In October 2011, Domingo performed alongside Welsh mezzo-soprano, Katherine Jenkins, to raise funds for two Christchurch artistic institutions, the Court Theatre (the city’s only professional theatre company) and the Christchurch Symphony Orchestra (CSO). 207 However, the CSO was unable to perform in its own benefit concert, having already confirmed a tour to Japan for Asia Orchestra Week when the Domingo concert was announced in August. 208 With the New Zealand Symphony Orchestra (NZSO) also unavailable due to prior commitments, Doig turned to the NZSO’s National Youth Orchestra (NYO), whose members (aged between 13 and late-20s) had to gain permission from parents and educators to assemble and rehearse during school and university term time. 209 At a rehearsal on the afternoon of the concert, Doig was emotional as he described how important it was “to have a hero here reinvesting in the spirit of this city”. In reply, Domingo said that he wished he was here for a normal concert but was happy that he could, in some way, “help to ease the pain and… make beautiful music and to try for a little while to [help people] forget”. 210 While the sentiment was most likely being expressed to the wider city, those would prove to be particularly poignant words for Doig – whose invitation to perform Domingo had accepted. Eschewing a more comfortable (but more removed) seat in a corporate box, Doig was seated in the front row at the concert, looking proud but frail as he received a standing ovation from those in attendance. The concert raised more than $300,000 for the CSO and the Court 206 Christopher Moore, “Operatic superstar to perform for city,” Press, 17 Aug 2011, A1. 207 Ibid., “Singing still about passion for caring Domingo,” Press, 1 Oct 2011, A9. 208 “Youth orchestra plays vital role,” Press, 18 Aug 2011, A2. 209 Keith Lynch and Christopher Moore, “Young musicians stun opera legend,” Press, 6 Oct 2011, A1. 210 Quoted in Lynch and Moore, “Young musicians stun opera legend”. 56 Theatre, and no doubt ‘eased the pain’ for many of the over 8,000 in attendance – including Doig, who by then was riddled with tumours from terminal stage four bowel cancer. 211 Attending the concert he helped create would be Doig’s final public act: he died one week later. By far the biggest musical event organised for Christchurch earthquake relief was also one of the first. Created in response to the initial earthquake in September 2010, Band Together was conceived by Jason Kerrison, lead singer of the band, OpShop, who grew up in Christchurch and wanted to do something positive for the city. 212 Kerrison, along with event promoter, Paul Ellis, put the event together in just seven weeks, organising more than 30 acts to perform at a free concert in Christchurch’s Hagley Park. 213 Many of the performers involved with Band Together live, or previously lived, in the city: 1960s pop icons Ray Columbus and Dinah Lee both grew up in Christchurch; rock bands OpShop, the Dukes, Clap Clap Riot, and the Feelers all formed in Christchurch; and the bill also included several locally-based acts like Anika Moa, the Bats, the Eastern, and the Exponents, who re-formed especially for the concert. 214 Other artists had connections to the city through friends or family, or just wanted to help the only way they knew how – by performing. There was a wide range of music on offer that day which provided something for everyone, from alt- country to pop, electronica to hip hop. There was also a kapa haka group, a dance troupe, an opera star, and some interesting collaborations, such as then-Mayor, Bob Parker, who joined the Bats on rhythm guitar for their classic song, North by North. 211 “Cancer is just another project for Doig,” Press, 6 Jun 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the- press/news/5103360/Cancer-is-just-another-project-for-Doig. 212 “Jason Kerrison,” Press, 29 Mar 2014, sec. YW 15. 213 Vicki Anderson, “Band Together,” Press, 25 Oct 2010, supplemental 1. 214 Ibid., “The bands,” Press, 23 Oct 2010, supplemental E4. 57 3: Band Together, Hagley Park (October 2010) The free, nine hour event was attended by approximately 140,000 people, 215 and there were many more watching on TV3 thanks to funding from the government broadcast funding agency, New Zealand on Air (NZoA). 216 This broadcast, the live web-streaming on the TV3 website, and the simulcast on More FM, enabled the rest of New Zealand to enjoy the concert and prompted them to donate money to the cause through the Red Cross. Although, as Kerrison says, “it wasn’t about the money, rather about making sure [Christchurch] people had time to forget their worries”. 217 For singer, Dane Rumble, the “gig was all about giving something back,” and he thought it was interesting how smoothly everything came together when money was taken out of the equation. 218 Everybody involved, including equipment suppliers, technicians, and stage crew, all donated their time and efforts, and their considerable expertise, to ensure this event was a success for a city that desperately needed entertaining. There is a long history in Christchurch of holding well-attended, free public concerts in this section of North Hagley Park. The Christchurch City Council (CCC) 215 Ibid., “Band Togther”. 216 NZ on Air, “You can’t stop the music,” no date, http://www.nzonair.govt.nz/features/christchurch-on-screen-and-in-song/you-cant-stop-the- music/. 217 Quoted in “Jason Kerrison,” Press, sec. YW 15. 218 Quoted in Anderson, “Band Together”. 58 has been running its popular Summertimes festival since 1983, and many events take place in the exact spot where Band Together was held. Summertimes often attracts crowds of more than 120,000 to its closing event, Classical Sparks, 219 which features the CSO and a large fireworks finale. However, knowing this did not make planning the event any less stressful for Kerrison, who sat by himself for over half an hour in Hagley Park the night beforehand, wondering if anyone would even turn up. 220 Having watched the event grow from an idea to an email conversation to “the biggest setup the council had ever been involved with,” was humbling for Kerrison, who said the efforts of all those involved was overwhelming. 221 Kerrison, who has been called “the Bono of Band Together,” 222 was awarded the New Zealand Order of Merit in the 2011 Queen’s Birthday honours for services to music, in recognition of both his music career and his role in organising this successful event. 223 As with other large-scale disaster benefit concerts, a local act was chosen to close the show. The band formerly known as the Dance Exponents played their first gig at the Hillsborough Hotel in Christchurch in 1981, and quickly became local favourites – not just in Christchurch but around the country. 224 Famous for what Sweetman describes as the “question-mark songs,” 225 such as Who Loves Who the Most?, Why Does Love do This to Me?, and What Ever Happened to Tracey?, the 219 “Sparks,” Christchurch City Libraries, n.d. ca. 2016, http://my.christchurchcitylibraries.com/classical-sparks/. 220 Anderson, “Band Together”. 221 “100,000 band together for earthquake relief,” Press, 23 Oct 2010, http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/music/4267535/100-000-band-together-for- earthquake-relief. 222 Anderson, “The Bands”. 223 “Queen’s Birthday Honours for 5 Knights and 2 Dames,” RadioNZ, 6 Jun 2011, http://www.radionz.co.nz/news/national/77043/queen's-birthday-honours-for-5-knights- and-2-dames. 224 Shane Gilchrist, “Luck still holding out,” Daily Times (Otago), 24 Mar, 2012, http://www.odt.co.nz/entertainment/music/202469/luck-still-holding-out. 225 Simon Sweetman, “New Zealand’s Best Songwriter,” 18 Feb, 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/blogs/blog-on-the-tracks/4672532/New-Zealands- best-songwriter. 59 Exponents also penned Christchurch (In Cashel St I Wait), which was probably the best-known song from or about the city prior to the arrival of Scribe. 226 The Exponents chose Christchurch (In Cashel St I Wait) as their final number, which saw every musician join them on stage and the crowd get to their feet, singing along with gusto. A local favourite since its release in 1985, the verses may have been a bit of a mumble for some, but the chorus rang out loud and clear across the park: Christchurch, In Cashel Street I wait, Together we will be, Together, together, together, One day, one day, one day, One day, one day, one daaaaaay! 227 At that moment, part of an impromptu community sing-along of over 100,000 people, the crowd was filled with hope and faith that those words would continue ringing true. Life would go on, we would gather together in Cashel Street and wait for normality to return. Lead singer, Jordan Luck, said playing that particular song at the Band Together concert “seemed to bring a happiness, a positivity, a unity to [those] gathered”. 228 For many of those in attendance, it was rather like being at a gig in the band’s 80s heyday because, then as now, “the crowd always knew when it was their time to sing,” 229 and did so at the top of their lungs. Bassist, Dave Gent, admitted that even though the song is usually not very enjoyable to play due to its demanding, metronomic rhythm, it was quite an emotional experience to perform it at Band Together, where the lyrics had added meaning given the circumstances. 230 Later the 226 Mitchell, “Flat City Sounds,” 189. 227 David Gent, Brian Jones, and Jordan Luck, “Christchurch (In Cashel St. I wait),” Expectations [album], 1985, Mushroom Records (lyrics written as sung). 228 Quoted in Russell Baillie, “The Exponents: 10 Best Music Moments,” Herald, 19 Nov, 2015, http://www.nzherald.co.nz/entertainment/news/article.cfm?c_id=1501119&objectid=11547 842. 229 Mark Bell, “The Exponents – The Insider’s Guide to Luck,” NZ Musician, Dec/Jan 2006, http://www.nzmusician.co.nz/index.php/ps_pagename/article/pi_articleid/733. 230 Ibid. 60 following year, the opening of the Re:Start container mall added an extra layer of poignancy to the song lyrics. Denied access to most of the city’s CBD, that one small part of Cashel Street now populated with colourful shipping containers was almost the only place in central Christchurch where people could wait. 4 (above left): Waiting (for progress) in Cashel Street, looking east (May 2012) 5 (above right): Waiting (for the crowds) in Cashel Street, looking west (May 2012) The enormity of the task Kerrison and Ellis achieved with Band Together was highlighted after the February earthquake, a time when many multi-artist fundraising concerts were being organised around the country. One such concert promoted itself as “Auckland’s largest Christchurch Earthquake Benefit Concert”, and was to be held at the ASB Showgrounds. 231 Organiser, John Paul Moss, of events company, The Funk Factory, said there had been a groundswell of support in the Auckland music industry and “everybody wants to come together and put on the highest quality event with the sole purpose of raising funds” for the people of Christchurch. 232 The event started as a Facebook page that attracted 70,000 hits and 15,000 ‘confirmed’ attendees, and Moss had secured some event elements at no cost, such as the venue and security services. The benefit concert was to be held on five main stages and the 231 “Press Release: Auckland’s largest Christchurch Earthquake Benefit Concert,” Scoop, 11 Mar 2011, http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/CU1103/S00257/aucklands-largest-christchurch- earthquake-benefit-concert.htm. 232 Ibid. 61 first line-up announcement featured 48 artists including King Kapisi and Annie Crummer, with promises of big headline acts to follow. This benefit concert was planned like a large-scale music festival complete with state-of-the-art lighting rig, lasers, a circus with more than 30 performers and international market stalls. There were corporate event partners, a website, and a multi-media promotional campaign was supposedly in place. The first round of tickets went on sale for $40 and the press release hinted that gate sales would be twice that amount, even though many of the listed acts were relative unknowns. No doubt the organisers were encouraged by the success of the Band Together concert, the level of online interest, and the donation of some key services, but a traditional approach to event management and an apparent focus on money seem to have come at a cost. Despite the initial optimism, ticket sales did not meet expectations and just days before it was due to take place, the concert was cancelled. Moss said “the event was at a risk of making a loss instead of raising money,” 233 and admitted the project may have been too ambitious for the timeframe involved. Ultimately, the event was attempting to be too much for too many – the scale, processes, and ticket prices were more like those of a major festival with international headliners and months of lead-in rather than a charity event with many lesser-known bands and a tight, three to four week timeframe. In Christchurch, during the days immediately after the February 22 nd earthquake, Adam McGrath and Jess Shanks from The Eastern, along with a number of fellow Lyttelton-based musicians including Lindon Puffin, Delaney Davidson and Marlon Williams, took a completely different approach to that of the large-scale events being staged elsewhere. In both Lyttelton and Christchurch, where many buildings were damaged, destroyed, or simply untrustworthy, this band of minstrels 233 Quoted in “Christchurch Earthquake Benefit Concert in Auckland Cancelled,” Amplifier, no date, www.amplifier.co.nz/news/68821/christchurch-earthquake-benefit-concert-in- auckland-cancelled.html. 62 would get together to play on street corners and in suburban parks. As McGrath recalls, “We just wanted to play music, you know? That’s what we do, that’s our work. If you’re a builder, you build and we’re players, and we play”. 234 McGrath would have you believe that “musicians are mostly useless, most of the time,” 235 and certainly no good to anyone with a shovel or hammer in their hands, but what they did have to offer was their music. So they played anywhere and everywhere – backyards, parks, private residences – seeking only enough donations to cover the cost of diesel for the mini generator that powered their small amplifier. 6: The Eastern & friends play for the crowd at St. Albans Park (March 2011) Piles of drying liquefaction can be seen in the foreground Releases and remixes In order to help with rebuilding their community, this same group of musicians then gathered together their friends and a few songs – one or two each, some old and some new – and set about making a fundraising album. This was easier said than done as their usual recording studios had been lost to the quakes and many of the musicians were without vital gear or instruments. Ben Edwards, who ran The Sitting Room studio in Lyttelton, had to borrow recording equipment which was then 234 Quoted in Vavasour, “Entertaining Shakeytown”. 235 Ibid. 63 set up in McGrath’s lounge, 236 where most of the album’s songs were recorded. Lindon Puffin recorded his two songs for the album in a friend’s garden shed, on gear borrowed from the Rock Shop. 237 In a case of triumph over adversity, the self-titled Harbour Union album was released at the reopening of Lyttelton’s Wunderbar at the end of April 2011, and sold enough CDs at various gigs to make the New Zealand top-20 album charts in May. 238 The bands and performers involved – The Eastern, Delaney Davidson, Lindon Puffin, Unfaithful Ways, Tiny Lies, Al Park, and Runaround Sue – act as a collective when it comes to disbursing the money raised, and choose which projects or events benefit from the album sales. Most are grass roots projects or small scale events, for example, the first $400 raised went on providing bumper cars for children at the Christchurch City Mission’s family fun day, where the bands also performed. 239 This loose coalition of Lyttelton-based musicians then organised a national tour which kicked off with a fundraising concert at the Aurora Centre in September 2011. The main beneficiary was the Rise Up Stacey Trust, 240 which was formed to help former Christchurch Press employee, Stacey Herbert, who had both legs amputated after being trapped in the Press building which collapsed in the February 22 nd earthquake. 241 Despite a mix-up over the capacity of the venue which saw the ‘sold out’ tag appear prematurely on the event’s online booking page, 242 several hundred people attended the concert, and most either bought the album or dropped coins in the many buckets to raise over $2000 for Herbert’s rehabilitation. 243 Along with charity concerts and donation of profits from merchandise sales, the release of fundraising songs and albums was another key aspect of the music community’s 236 Vicki Anderson, “Delight as albums leap on to charts,” Press, 7 May 2011, A17. 237 Vavasour, “Entertaining Shakeytown”. 238 Anderson, “Delight as albums leap on to charts”. 239 Ibid. 240 James Borrowdale, “Lyttelton in harmony,” Press, 16 Sep 2011, sec. Go 12. 241 Vicki Anderson, “Chch musicians in finals,” Press, 8 Sep 2011, A2. 242 Ibid. 243 Borrowdale, “Lyttelton in harmony”. 64 efforts to help the city and people of Christchurch – and the Harbour Union album was first off the blocks. This rapid response – a mere six weeks after the February 22 nd earthquake – is all the more impressive considering the circumstances and environment in which the album was made. In July 2011, the Canterbury Development Corporation (CDC), the economic development agency of the CCC, launched the ‘Love Christchurch’ campaign to encourage support for local businesses and instil hope among city residents. The billboards, posters and advertising featured seven local business people and community leaders showing their support for the city. 244 In October the same year, a compilation of songs by Canterbury artists, also called ‘Love Christchurch’ and utilising the same angular love-heart and typography as the CDC campaign, was released with the aim of raising funds to help rebuild facilities for Christchurch musicians. 245 Spearheaded by the New Zealand Music Commission, in association with CHART and the REAL NZ Festival, and supported by the NZ2011 Lottery Fund, the CD was initially available at Auckland’s Queens Wharf and The Cloud – two of the official Rugby World Cup (RWC) public venues, or ‘fanzones’. CHART Chairman, Neil Cox, said the timing and choice of launch venue “aims to give our unique voice a platform to showcase itself to the world during this massive festival of sport”. 246 The CD featured 19 tracks donated by Christchurch acts and could be purchased for a donation of $10, $15, or $20 a copy, initially only at the two Auckland RWC venues and then online at music retailer, Amplifier.co.nz. 247 244 “Love Christchurch campaign to give hope,” Sunday News, 3 Jul 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/sunday-news/latest-edition/5224648/Love-Christchurch-campaign- to-give-hope. 245 NZ Music Commission, “Love Christchurch – a seismic selection of music from Christchurch,” 7 Oct 2011, http://nzmusic.org.nz/news/artist/love-christchurch-a-seismic- selection-of-music-fro/. 246 Quoted in ibid. 247 Vicki Anderson, “Music goes online to raise funds for rehearsal space,” Press, 13 Oct 2011, A9. 65 The city of Christchurch was to have hosted seven RWC tournament matches but damage to the city’s stadium and a lack of accommodation options saw the five pool games and two quarter-finals re-allocated to other cities. 248 Even though there were to be no RWC games in the city, Christchurch musician, David Thorpe, wanted to encourage the city’s support for the tournament and the All Blacks. Under the band name, The Swarm, Thorpe and friends recorded what they described as a ‘morale- boosting’ song, Back the Blacks, with 75 percent of profits being donated to the Christchurch Mayoral Quake fund. 249 The Swarm were invited to perform the song at the Christchurch RWC fanzone in Hagley Park on the opening day of the tournament, and also performed several lunchtime concerts at local schools. 250 A few weeks after the February 22 nd earthquake, a discussion among a group of people gathered in Melbourne lead to the production of a 21-track fundraising album, Songs for Christchurch. 251 A collective of people from Melbourne, San Francisco, Wellington and Christchurch, including members of Architecture for Humanity and Free Range Press, worked on the project for months, gathering songs and support. 252 Musician, Jessie Moss, who was part of the organising team, says that fundraising albums like this provide a quick and meaningful way for those who live outside the city to show support for the city’s struggle. The project had three main goals: “to raise money for community projects in Christchurch, to promote Christchurch and New Zealand artists to overseas audiences and to put on a free live concert in Christchurch’s CBD”. 253 Royalties were to be shared between four community-focused organisations: Architecture for Humanity (in particular, the 248 Marcus Wild, “Christchurch loses Rugby World Cup games,” 16 Mar 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/sport/rugby/rugby-world-cup/4773298/Christchurch-loses-Rugby- World-Cup-games. 249 Vicki Anderson, “Chch musos launch song backing All Blacks bid for Cup,” Press, 11 Aug 2011, A2. 250 Georgina Stylianou, “Band boosting morale,” Press, 24 Sep 2011, A7. 251 Anderson, “Songs for Christchurch”. 252 Ibid.; “Songs for Christchurch,” Project Freerange, n.d. ca. 2013, http://www.projectfreerange.com/songs-for-christchurch/. 253 Vicki Anderson, “Songs for Christchurch launch,” 22 Feb 2013, sec. GO 10. 66 rebuild of Ao Tawhiti), Gap Filler, Life in Vacant Spaces (LiVS), and the Festival of Transitional Architecture (FESTA). 254 The production costs were raised through a fundraising campaign on crowdfunding site, PledgeMe, with donations totalling $7700. Project director, Barnaby Bennett, estimated that the artists involved had donated music worth about $250,000 in intellectual copyrights, and many also donated items for pledge rewards. 255 Songs for Christchurch was released in 2013, with a concert in Christchurch’s Re:START mall 256 on the second anniversary of the February 22 nd earthquake. Alongside tracks from New Zealand artists like the Black Seeds, Tim Finn, FotC, Ladi6, the Eastern, and Delaney Davidson, the album also features international stars Imogen Heap and Amanda Palmer. As The Eastern’s Adam McGrath puts it: “You can’t rely on the power structures… you can’t necessarily rely on the government, on the insurance companies… but you can rely on your fellow humans”. 257 It seems you can definitely rely on musicians to step up when disaster relief is on the agenda. In his album review of Songs for Christchurch, Mike Alexander notes that musicians are becoming the “go-to people when there is a desperate need to raise awareness and money for a worthy cause,” and that money spent on this album provides a better return than a Christchurch insurance policy. 258 He goes on to suggest that insurance agencies could learn a considerable amount about goodwill and integrity from the musicians involved in this project, 259 something that the many residents still locked in 254 Ibid.; “Songs for Christchurch,” Project Freerange. 255 Anderson, “Songs for Christchurch”. 256 Re:START is the popular shopping area constructed with shipping containers, in what was formerly known as City Mall in Cashel Street, in the central city. 257 Quoted in Anderson, “Songs for Christchurch”. 258 Mike Alexander, “Album review: Songs for Christchurch – various,” Stuff, 4 March 2013, http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/music/album-reviews/8378324/Album-review-Songs- for-Christchurch-Various. 259 Ibid. 67 protracted battles with their insurance company or EQC 260 would be likely to agree with. Some artists were very quick to remix or re-release material in the name of earthquake relief. Christchurch hip hop artist, Maitreya, released an EP of remixes of his hometown anthem, Chur to the Chur, 261 featuring King Kapisi and Che Fu, on February 28 th – a mere six days after the event. 262 This version of the song had been performed at the Band Together concert, and a video featuring footage from that performance was uploaded to You Tube on March 7 th . 263 All proceeds from sales of the song on iTunes, Bandcamp, and Amplifier went to the Christchurch Earthquake Appeal. Opshop’s Jason Kerrison was heavily involved in organising the Band Together concert after the first earthquake but the destructive force of the February 22 nd earthquake and the severe, ongoing aftershocks meant that staging a large-scale public event was not a viable option at this time. Opshop pledged to donate all profits from their most recent single, Love Will Always Win, to the Christchurch Earthquake Appeal. 264 Opshop had been about to release the music video for the song but, given that the video contained shots of scared crowds running down city streets, the band decided to defer this out of respect for the people of Christchurch. Instead, they invited people to send them video clips of support for Christchurch in order to create a user-generated video for the song. A Vimeo group, ‘Message for Christchurch,’ 265 was 260 EQC is the Earthquake Commission, a government agency that provides residential insurance cover for natural disasters. See www.eqc.govt.nz. 261 ‘Chur’ is New Zealand slang for ‘cheers’ or ‘cool’ and also a shortening of Christchurch, hence ‘Chur to the Chur’. See http://robyngallagher.com/2007/07/03/che-che-bro-chur- mate/. 262 Maitreya, “Chur to the Chur (EP),” Bandcamp, n.d. ca. 2011, https://maitreya.bandcamp.com/album/chur-to-the-chur-ep. 263 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-daXCgbh4ck. 264 Che Baker, “Opshop’s tribute to the people,” Press, 5 Mar 2011, A9. 265 http://www.vimeo.com/groups/messageforchristchurch 68 created and film production company, Zoomslide, came on board. 266 However, Kerrison’s second foray into earthquake relief was not nearly as meaningful or successful as his first. While it was a nice idea at the time, it seems that little effort went into promoting or following up on the crowd-sourced video concept. Kerrison wanted to include footage of Christchurch residents doing helpful, positive things for each other, such as “a barbeque for their neighbours without power, or students shovelling dirt”. 267 While these types of events were certainly happening around the city, filming them and then uploading the footage for a music video was not high on people’s priority list at a time when many were without power. The request seems to have been quickly forgotten by most people including, it seems, by the band itself, for there is no record that this crowd-sourced video was ever made. There were only fourteen video files uploaded to the Vimeo group at the time (one of those being the song itself), and the only music video available online for the song is the original version. In September 2011, the Bank of New Zealand (BNZ) announced it had partnered with Christchurch hip hop artist, Scribe, to remake his smash hit, Not Many, for charity. 268 Diane Maxwell, Head of Brand and Corporate Affairs for BNZ, said the bank wanted to do something to celebrate resilience and support the spirit of the people of Christchurch. 269 Back in 2003, Not Many debuted at number five on the New Zealand music charts, where it spent twelve weeks at number one and was crowned ‘Single of the Year’. 270 The punchy chorus heralded Scribe as a force to be reckoned with and the song created a massive imprint on New Zealand popular culture 266 “Opshop donate all sales of new single “Love will always win”,” Scoop, 4 Mar 2011, http://www.scoop.co.nz/stories/CU1103/S00094/opshop-donate-all-sales-of-new-single- love-will-alway-win.htm. 267 Baker, “Opshop’s tribute”. 268 “Scribe takes hit remake into quake redzone,” Press, 9 Sep 2011, A5. 269 BNZ, “Making of Not Many Cities,” YouTube [video], 6 Sep 2011, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=krsvfkYsPzw. 270 Simon Sweetman, On Song (Auckland: Penguin Books, 2012), 164. 69 with the line: ‘How many dudes you know roll like this? Not many, if any’. As music critic, Simon Sweetman, explains, “the hook line of the chorus [is now] a conversational aside that is practically unavoidable when discussing amounts… The words ‘not many’ are now truck-and-trailered with ‘if any’. If you do not say them, you are thinking them”. 271 Like many tracks on the album The Crusader, the song, Not Many, contains shout-outs (references) to the artist’s hometown and makes it clear he is proud of the people, his ‘hood and the Canterbury province. 272 The strong links between artist and hometown, and the fact it is an enduringly catchy song, made it ideal for a charity remake. Reworded and reworked as Not Many Cities, the catchy chorus now welcomes people to Christchurch rather than The Crusader album and, instead of proclaiming the skills of the DJ, it casts the city as hero, asking: ‘How many cities you know roll like this?’. 273 The line about bass vibrations shaking like an earthquake has been altered to pay homage to a city ‘where the streets vibrate every night from the earthquake’. 274 The video was widely shared through social media, and entered the music charts at number 36, 275 but not all reception was positive. Parts of the video were shot in the city’s Red Zone – the central business district that was cordoned off from public access due to safety concerns – which was a moving experience for Scribe, who had not been back to the city since burying a family member killed in the February earthquake. 276 This special access proved a sticking point for some residents though, with letters to the editor and online commentary expressing frustration that 271 Ibid., 167. 272 Ibid.; Tony Mitchell, “Flat city sounds redux: A musical ‘countercartography’ of Christchurch,” in Home, Land and Sea, ed. Glenda Keam and Tony Mitchell (Auckland: Pearson, 2011), 189; Kirsten Zemke, “New Zealand hip hop stands up,” in Home, Land and Sea, ed. Glenda Keam and Tony Mitchell (Auckland: Pearson, 2011), 106. 273 BNZ/Scribe, “Not Many Cities,” YouTube [video], 6 Sep 2011, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRcCzdHzZUg. 274 Ibid. 275 “Not Many Cities – Scribe – Top 40 singles,” music.net.nz, Sep 2011, http://www.muzic.net.nz/charts/s65313/scribe-not-many-cities. 276 Paul Harper, “Scribe’s tribute to Christchurch’s resilience,” Herald, 8 Sep 2011, http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=10750116. 70 celebrities were allowed into the Red Zone to shoot a video while those directly affected were not allowed in to retrieve essential items from residences and business premises. Although promotional material and news stories described the song as a moving tribute that “celebrates the strength, the courage, the pride and the incredible spirit of the people of Christchurch,” 277 critics were not as enamoured, with Sweetman calling it “well-meaning if not exactly well-realised”. 278 While the remake did provide a much-loved anthem with another lease on life and the Christchurch Plunket Society with much-needed funds, the corporate element was never far from the surface. In the ‘Making of’ video, BNZ brand expert, Diane Maxwell, states that the song and music video is “not about making an ad for the bank… we just wanted to get behind it”. 279 Yet, the project was initiated by the BNZ, and the video featured some of the bank’s Christchurch clients like Canterbury Cheesemongers, NZ Wool Services, and the Court Theatre – who have all previously featured in BNZ promotional videos. The Canterbury Crusaders, part of the Super Rugby competition that BNZ is a major sponsor of, also feature in the music video, and the recipient of money from sales of the song on iTunes and Amplifier, Plunket, is also sponsored by BNZ. While none of this diminishes the good intentions behind the idea nor detracts from the sense of strength and optimism portrayed, it does flatten the vibe somewhat. With the video for Not Many Cities switching between Scribe travelling around the broken inner city on the back of a ute and lingering shots of carefully selected people, businesses, and places, at times it comes across like just another BNZ promotional video – albeit with more emotion and a better soundtrack than usual. This was not the first time Scribe had reworked Not Many for the earthquake relief cause although, second time around, there was more at stake. In September 2010, three weeks after the first earthquake struck the city, Scribe performed 277 Ibid. 278 Sweetman, On Song, 169. 279 Quoted in BNZ, “Making of…” 71 alongside fellow hip hop, rap, and R&B artists in a fundraising concert in Auckland called I Love Christchurch. 280 For this occasion, his signature tune was tweaked just a little, with the line, ‘It’s all good when you come to my hood’, becoming ‘It’s not good, an earthquake hit my hood’. 281 However, by the time the BNZ remake was underway the following year, Scribe’s hometown was not the only thing that had taken a hit, as his public image had also been damaged, but in this case it was by his own actions. When four of Scribe’s music awards appeared on the auction site, Trade Me, in January 2011, the artist was forced to admit to drug and alcohol addictions that lead to him pawning the trophies in October 2008. 282 With tongue firmly planted in cheek, TV3 demonstrate the ingrained nature of the song’s lyrics in the collective New Zealand psyche with their headline: “How many awards has Scribe got? Not many, if any”. 283 The opportunity to remake his smash hit for this very public crisis provided a chance to distract people from his own personal crisis, and to help repair his damaged image along with his broken hometown. Sweetman describes Not Many as the song that was “both the making and breaking of Scribe… the high-water mark that he has, thus far, not been able to better”. 284 On first release, both song and artist were confrontational, challenging the audience to sit up and take notice but with each subsequent reuse or repurpose they have lost much of their bravado and swagger. 280 Ali Ikram, “Scribe, Savage perform in ‘I Love Christchurch’ fundraiser,” 3News, 27 Sep 2010, http://www.3news.co.nz/tvshows/nightline/scribe-savage-perform-in-i-love- christchurch-fundraiser-2010092722#axzz3x4YhiDVH. 281 Ibid. 282 Martin Van Beynen, “Scribe comes clean on his addictions,” Press, 29 Jan 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/entertainment/music/4595976/Scribe-comes-clean-on-his- addictions. 283 “How many awards has Scribe got? Not many, if any,” 3News, 20 Jan 2011, http://www.3news.co.nz/entertainment/how-many-awards-has-scribe-got-not-manyif-any- 2011012015#axzz3uov93Hc2. 284 Sweetman, On Song, 169. 72 Conclusion There are many different musical fundraising projects that have taken place for the benefit of Christchurch since the earthquakes began, and just as many reasons why the artists themselves got involved. While it is true there are often positive benefits for the artists’ image or reputation, for the most part, this is not why musicians organise or get involved with these events and releases. Musicians are travellers, and will often find themselves in, near, or remembering the place where disaster has struck. Musicians are connected – with each other, with their fans, their crew, and the ancillary workers and industries that support and rely on their creative output – all of which increase the chance of a direct link to a disaster zone. There is often a genuine desire to do what they can to help the affected, and for most musicians, what they can do – from anywhere – is to play or provide music for the cause. Several ‘A-list’ international acts, and many local artists as well, donated possessions, their performance time, or existing tracks not just once, but many times, and assisted in a variety of ways with different disaster-related events and releases. The wide range of fundraising events and charity releases held for the people of Christchurch show that ‘charitainment’ after disaster exists at many levels, and that telethons and superstars are only the tip of the iceberg. The sheer number of musical fundraisers held around the country in bars, pubs, and public parks, allowed musicians of all statures and levels of influence to contribute to the earthquake relief cause, often via the four high-profile charitable funds outlined earlier. When the events were held in the city itself, or when people from Christchurch travelled to see gigs in other parts of the country, there was an extra element to the relief provided. For people who are directly affected by a disaster, it is not always about the music or the money – it is more about the comfort, connection and distraction on offer, the sense of community, and some much-needed nourishment for the soul. 73 Chapter 5: Music as psychosocial salve When considering the uses and benefits of music at any time, but especially after disaster, it pays to take a broad view. There are many, sometimes unexpected, ways in which identity, happiness, memory, and a person’s sense of place and spatial awareness are affected by and connected with particular songs. This can be a deliberate action, in which people “engage in this appropriation process… knowing how certain music works on them from past experience. But at other times, music may take [them] unaware”. 285 The spontaneity of a magical musical moment can be a very emotional and sometimes healing thing to experience, and when that moment is shared, it can lead to a sense of communitas – an elusive concept that is difficult to achieve on command. In good times and bad, music can be used to create or change a mood, and to occupy or recreate space. Often it does not seem to matter what the music is, as long as there is music of some kind. This section looks at the ways that, after disaster, the sharing of both live and recorded music offers a reason to gather with friends, to spend time with loved ones, and an opportunity to take part in what, at any other time, would have been a very normal and everyday activity. Attention then turns to the role of music in enhancing individual and community wellbeing, and the ways it is making a positive impact on the physical and mental landscape of the city. Two key organisations – All Right? and Gap Filler – and their musical activities are profiled, providing an account of two very different approaches to the use of music to improve community wellbeing. Music and memory Music provides a soundtrack to daily life, creating a map of meaning to the world around us, or presenting a reminder of the world as it once was. DeNora says that when people hear a song that was once heard in, and remains associated with, a 285 DeNora, Music in Everyday Life, 162. 74 particular time and place, it “provides a device for unfolding, for replaying, the temporal structure of that moment, [which] is why, for so many people, the past ‘comes alive’ to its soundtrack”. 286 When a community is frequently and collectively casting their minds back to a time before a catastrophic change, a sense of community identity can be seen in the use of, and reaction to, particular songs. Music allows people to “locate themselves in different imaginary geographics at one and the same time,” 287 creating spaces for people to retreat into, small ‘audiotopias’ that are “built, imagined, and sustained through sound, noise, and music”. 288 The use of musical escape holes is prevalent after disaster, as many once-familiar spaces have changed beyond recognition or are no longer able to be physically visited, but can be easily imagined or remembered through music. After the earthquakes started, and particularly after the February earthquake, musicians and residents were finding and reminding themselves of what had been lost through the words and images contained in music, video, and collective memory banks. For Lindon Puffin, many songs became “accidentally relevant” after the earthquakes, as a multitude of lyrics took on new significance in the face of disaster. 289 The two songs Puffin re-recorded for the Harbour Union album, Human Enough and Even Keel, both contain references to locations and mental states that are simultaneously familiar yet altered, with extra layers of meaning now added to lyrics originally written in a very different time and place. Human Enough: Look around, little town by the sea Painted boats, duffle coats, lucky me […] And others would do the sensible thing But you said, this is where we belong […] Between the weak and the strong And I just hope we’re human enough To learn when to let go 286 DeNora, Music in Everyday Life, 67. 287 Cohen, Decline, Renewal and the City, 93. 288 Kun, Audiotopia, 21. 289 Vavasour, Entertaining Shakeytown. 75 And when to hold on… 290 Even Keel: It’s the moment on your own When everything speeds away Leaving you in that place Where the only thing left to say Is that if only you knew then what you know now Would it shake that dream where you were trying to run But your legs won’t move and help won’t come… 291 The happiness found in a small town, the tension between staying or going, the pain of letting go, the clarity of hindsight, and the fear of being trapped and helpless – all of these things existed before the earthquakes but have now been violently thrust to the surface and shown in stark relief. For those who experienced the physical and emotional upheaval of the near-continuous seismic activity between September 2011 and December 2012, the feelings and mental images inspired or recalled by those lyrics are very different now than when the songs were first written. Sometimes it is the accompanying visual imagery of a song that takes on new significance. There are plenty of music videos that capture the Christchurch of decades past, including these, compiled by a local music blogger: 292 The Bats’ Block of Wood and Claudine; The Shallows, Suzanne Said; Moana and the Moahunters, Rebel in Me; and All Fall Down’s Black Gratten, which were all filmed in the 1980s or early ‘90s. These videos provide many ‘flashback’ moments to the city as it was twenty or thirty years ago. However, one post-earthquake release captures a moment in time which became significant only after the fact, creating an accidental musical time capsule. The song, Space and Place, was released in February 2013, but had 290 Lindon Puffin, “Human Enough,” Harbour Union [album], 2011, Social End Product. 291 Ibid., “Even Keel” Harbour Union [album], 2011, Social End Product. 292 Paul ‘Goodsort’, “Re-Live the ‘old’ Christchurch in Music Videos,” Mostly Within Human Hearing Range, 7 Nov 2011, http://humanhearingrange.blogspot.co.nz/2011/11/re-live-old- christchurch-in-music.html; and “More Music Videos Set in Pre-Quake(s) Christchurch,” 3 Dec 2011, http://humanhearingrange.blogspot.co.nz/2011/12/more-music-videos-set-in-pre- quakes.html. 76 been recorded, and had the video filmed, not long before the earthquakes 293 . The song was inspired by the feelings experienced when returning home after a long absence, and celebrates the importance of the home town as “a place that knows you as well as you know it”. 294 The chorus features the line, ‘streets of common ground, I remember, I remember,’ 295 but it is the video, showcasing many of the Christchurch places and spaces only recently lost to the earthquakes, that tugs at people’s heartstrings. The video for Space and Place sweeps through the central city at night, with key heritage buildings like the Christ Church Cathedral, and the Catholic Basilica lit up against the night sky (both are still damaged and inaccessible). Producer and engineer, Rob Mayes, describes the video as “a love letter to something we all lost [with] the song and its lyrics [becoming] even more potent, poignant, and unexpectedly prescient post quake”. 296 The Arts Centre features prominently in the footage, including the back alleys and archways that hosted all manner of night-time activities – sanctioned or otherwise – as does many people’s favourite hangout, the Dux de Lux (the Dux). While the repair and restoration of some parts of the Arts Centre is currently well advanced, the Student Union building that once housed this inner-city social institution is not slated for reopening until 2019, 297 and whether the Dux will be welcomed back remains to be seen. Remembering the Dux The clash between the Arts Centre management and the owners of the Dux, who leased the building from the Arts Centre Trust, was indicative of disagreements 293 Vicki Anderson, “A Love Letter to Christchurch,” Press, 22 Feb 2013, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/christchurch-life/art-and-stage/christchurch- music/8335491/A-love-letter-to-Christchurch. 294 Anderson, “A Love Letter to Christchurch”. 295 Leigh Franklin, Rob Mayes, and Mark Roberts, Space and Place, Failsafe Records, Feb 2013, songsinthekey.bandcamp.com/. 296 Rob Mayes, “Songs in the Key – Space and Place,” Failsafe Records, Mar 2013, http://www.failsaferecords.com/. 297 “Rebuild and Restore,” Arts Centre, n.d. ca. 2016, http://www.artscentre.org.nz/rebuild--- restore.html. 77 taking place all over the city between landlords and tenants, but this one was particularly bitter and public. The Dux occupied the sole mock-Tudor building on a corner of the former Canterbury College campus, 298 now known as The Arts Centre, which is largely built in the same neo-Gothic style as Christ Church Cathedral. Built as a private residence, that corner building then became home to the College’s Student Union, before being saved from demolition and transformed into the Dux de Lux – a bar, restaurant and music venue – in the late 1970s. After the first earthquake in the early hours of Saturday 4 th of September, the Dux was open by late morning but was forced to close again on the following Wednesday when a large aftershock caused visible damage to one of the chimneys. 299 Engineers organised by the Arts Centre management inspected the building and deemed it too dangerous to occupy. The Dux organised their own engineers who disagreed with the original assessment, and after a quick and very public spat, the Dux was allowed to reopen, but with less than half of their usual footprint in operation. 300 In February, it was very different. This time there was no quick reopening, and indeed, no question that the Dux was badly damaged but again, there were differences in opinion about the scope and cost of repairs. 301 In March 2011, the Arts Centre cancelled the leases of all its tenants – bar one – advising at the time that it would be up to four years before they could return to the site. 302 The only business permitted to remain was Canterbury Cheesemongers, who later featured in the BNZ/Scribe video, and operated from the newer (1960s) Registry Building that had been assessed as being safe to occupy. 303 298 “Student Union,” University of Canterbury, n.d. http://www.canterbury.ac.nz/canterburycollege/building_blocks/union.shtml. 299 Jonny Pipe (producer), “A Flat City, Episode 11: The Venues,” RDU, 2012, http://www.rdu.org.nz/feed/podcast/a-flat-city. 300 Ibid. 301 Charlie Gates, “Dux de Lux fights eviction,” Press, 25 Mar, 2011, A7. 302 Ibid., “Centre evicts tenants, lays off staff,” Press, 24 Mar, 2011, A3. 303 Ibid., “Wine bar joins eviction battle,” Press, 31 Mar, 2011, A4. 78 Many musicians, including Opshop’s Jason Kerrison, Salmonella Dub frontman, Andrew Penman, Anika Moa, and Lawrence Arabia, pledged their support for the Dux, describing the bar as “the city’s common room” and “Christchurch’s beating heart”. 304 These musicians are among the many who credit the Dux for giving them their first break, and consider it an irreplaceable part of the city’s music scene that should be restored and re-established. By early June, letters to the Editor and articles about the issue were appearing in the city’s newspaper on an almost daily basis, and there was a glimmer of hope that there would be some sort of resolution to the impasse. But then the earth roared again on the afternoon of June 13 th , 2011, with aftershocks of M5.6 and M6.3 305 striking the city just over an hour apart, after which there seemed to be little hope for a quick fix to anything. Despite many offers by Dux owner, Richard Sinke, to cover the cost of the damage, the Arts Centre management is adamant that repairs will proceed according to their plan, and are not entertaining any offers of targeted funding for any part of the heritage site. 306 The Student Union building is one of the oldest in the Arts Centre complex, and will be one of the last to be repaired: current projections have it re-opening in 2019. 307 In some ways, the Dux was a terrible live music venue: the building had never been designed for the task, and was forced to make best use of a poky layout in a pretty, but not terribly functional, heritage building. As manager, Ross Herrick, explains: “The Tavern Bar [where bands played], was never acoustically treated. We did what we could with what we had. The sound desk was never in the right place because it was underneath the bulkhead and it was to the side”. 308 But despite all its 304 Vicki Anderson, “Musicians sing praises in call for ‘vital common room’ to reopen,” Press, 7 Jun, 2011, A8. 305 GNS Science, “Jun 13 2011 – Large earthquakes strike south-east of Christchurch,” GeoNet, 17 Jun, 2011, http://info.geonet.org.nz/display/quake/2011/06/13/Jun+13+2011+- +Large+earthquakes+strike+south-east+of+Christchurch. 306 Charlie Gates, “Talks ‘positive’ but Dux reopening an unknown,” Press, 4 Jun, 2011, A9. 307 “Rebuild and Restore,” Arts Centre, n.d. ca. 2016, http://www.artscentre.org.nz/rebuild--- restore.html. 308 Pipe, “A Flat City: The Venues”. 79 physical flaws, the Dux was also a wonderful music venue: it was a bar that championed music and musicians, a place that became a second living room for many Christchurch music fans, and features in many memories and music videos. A Facebook group, ‘Save our Dux,’ was created in early March, 2011, and quickly filled with messages and memories from around the world. Whereas most of the letters and articles in the newspaper focused on the repair stalemate, and so did discussion in the Facebook group, but often the discussion turned to memories of bands, music, and good times. People wandered down memory lane together as they reminisced about their favourite gigs and memorable occasions, like the ‘Big Snow’ of 1992 309 when the Dux served up mulled wine and looked like a ski chalet. The community was reminiscing, expressing and sharing its grief, and praying for a quick recovery. One post to the group invited anyone living in or visiting the city to write words of support and encouragement onto colourful paper hearts and ducks on the safety fence around the building (see figure 7). 7: 'Save our Dux' ducks, Montreal St fence (June 2011) 309 For more information on the 1992 ‘Big Snow’, see Ministry of Culture and Heritage, “Canterbury’s ‘Big Snow’ 28 August 1992,” New Zealand History, 5 Jun 2015, http://www.nzhistory.net.nz/page/%26%23039%3B-big-snow%26%23039%3B. 80 Memories were also shared about the time when the music video for the Dance Exponents’ song, Victoria, 310 was filmed at the Dux and the art deco apartment building across the street. The video was different to most others made in New Zealand at the time as it was shot on location with characters playing out the abusive relationship the lyrics describe, rather than the standard, low-cost, performance-based shoot in a TVNZ studio. 311 Singer, Jordan Luck, played a taxi driver, taking Victoria to and from her escort jobs. The real Victoria was Luck’s landlady for a while in the early 1980s, and lived on Springfield Road, in the same house where music writer, Vicki Anderson, later resided. Several Dux regulars were involved or connected with the video shoot in some way, like musician and bar-owner, Al Park, who played the role of Victoria’s pimp. One of the Facebook group members recalled how Luck managed to crash the taxi into a rubbish bin on Hereford Street during filming. The reminiscing continued, establishing and strengthening connections, with music providing a stepping stone to a shared experience and a sense of community. Physically restricted from visiting a favourite social space, people were converging in virtual hangouts to relive moments and remember places now cut off by the passing of time and the falling of bricks. 310 Dance Exponents, Victoria [single], 1982, Mushroom Records, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmzLGVGZkVQ. 311 “Victoria,” NZ On Screen, n.d. ca. 2013, http://www.nzonscreen.com/title/victoria-1982. 81 8: The leafy Dux de Lux courtyard, looking through the safety fence (April 2014) The Dux was always more than just a music venue: they ran a vegetarian restaurant, as well as brewing and selling their own beer, which could be enjoyed in a shaded courtyard space (now a resting place for building materials: see figure 8). When it became clear that the original Dux building was not going to be repaired any time soon, Herrick and Sinke started looking for an alternate space to call home, eventually opening up the different aspects of their business in three separate premises across the city. First to open was a live music venue, Dux Live!, in a light-industrial part of Addington, an area which, along with parts of neighbouring suburb, Sydenham, has been dubbed the SOMO district (South of Moorhouse). Rumours about a new venue first surfaced in the Save our Dux group in May 2011, and the hunt for a temporary live music venue was confirmed by Dux manager, Ross Herrick. However, securing the warehouse space would prove to be the least time-consuming or frustrating part of the process – months of delays working through the CCC building consent process 312 meant the opening date of Dux Live! was pushed back 312 Vicki Anderson, “Dux Live! Red-tape horror is nothing new,” Press, 1 Nov 2011, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/opinion/blogs/rock-and-roll-mother/5889877/Dux-Live- Red-tape-horror-is-nothing-new. 82 from October 28 th to December 9 th , 2011, 313 forcing several bands hoping to play at the new Dux into finding alternate venues at the last minute. Even though Sinke acknowledged that the new venue would not be able to replicate the beautiful garden setting and ornate details of the original Dux de Luxe, keeping the heritage of the Dux name alive was the goal. 314 Herrick thought there were definite benefits to the new space: “The old Dux was a good little venue, though it was always a room we put music into, rather than a room built around music”. 315 The new space offered enough floor space and height to afford a mezzanine space overlooking the stage and dancefloor, a Yakatori kitchen, and the ability to take the kind of bands that attract a bigger crowd. For the first time, the Dux had a dedicated and purpose-fitted space for live music, and Sinke and Herrick spent 40 per cent of their budget on acoustic treatment for the concrete warehouse and a top-end sound system. 316 It promised a lot but also had much to overcome – the industrial location and concrete interior were not the most welcoming. 9: Dux Live! street frontage, Addington (April 2014) The ‘outdoor courtyard’ area is under the canopy, just behind the tyre (far left) 313 Vicki Anderson, “Live venue debut a step closer,” Press, 11 Nov 2011, A9; Miriama McDonald, “The Dux returns,” Press, 16 Dec 2011, sec. GO 14. 314 Marc Greenhill, “Dux owner sets up music venue,” Press, 6 Aug 2011, A9. 315 “RDUnited Chosen Few: Dux Live,” RDU [Facebook post], 21 Nov 2012. 316 Marcus Winstanley, “Industry: Live in Christchurch,” NZ Musician 16, no. 9 (April/May 2012), http://www.nzmusician.co.nz/index.php/ps_pagename/article/pi_articleid/2761. 83 Dux Dine – housing the restaurant arm of the business – was the next venture to open, almost a year later, in November 2012. Sinke and team renovated the Riccarton stationmasters’ house, an old villa near the railway lines that had a similar charm to that of the much-missed Dux de Lux. Herrick said the new venue had “a comfortably familiar feeling,” but even though it would be open until late into the evening, was not being positioned as a “hard-core party venue”. 317 The trilogy was complete in September 2015, when the Dux brand was back in the central city with a new venture, Dux Central, occupying the only remaining brick building in Poplar Lane (previously home to The Twisted Hop bar). 318 Much time and money has been spent fitting out the spaces that now house the three hospitality strands that formerly co-existed in the Dux de Lux. Each space has been specifically designed for their purpose: acoustic treatment was a priority for music venue Dux Live!, and the non-residential location allows for a later closing time of 3am; the restaurant can define its own tone and opening hours; and the different spaces that make up the new Dux Central – the Poplar Social Club, the Emerald Room, the Brew Bar, and the Upper Dux – all have nods to the past while setting a new tone for the future. There are benefits to the new, spread-out Dux ‘family’ – the fixtures and trimmings are first rate, the square-meterage much increased, the locations and spaces have been designed and finished with great care – and yet, somehow, the sum of these shiny new parts does not fill the Dux de Lux- shaped hole that still exists. In September 2014, Dux Live! was named as New Zealand’s best music entertainment venue at the Hospitality New Zealand Awards, with Dux Dine also a 317 Anna Turner, “Restaurant with a familiar ring opens in Riccarton,” Press, 16 Nov 2012, A2. 318 Abbie Napier, “Dux Central opens in Christchurch on September 16,” Press, 14 Sep 2015, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/christchurch-life/eat-and-drink/71971570/Dux-Central- opens-in-Christchurch-on-September-16. 84 finalist for the best restaurant. 319 However, all was not well within the Dux empire, and even though Dux Live! won best music venue again in 2015, it struggled to attract the crowds needed to make the venture profitable. 320 Sinke felt that not only had many good local bands ‘fallen apart’ after the earthquakes, and new bands did not yet have enough fans, but that many young people preferred a DJ to live music. 321 With only a few international acts filling the 300-person capacity venue, and few local acts able to pull in crowds of that size, the doors closed and Dux Live! was no more. In a letter to the editor a few days after a Press article announced the closure, Sinke explained that they had only taken a four-year lease on the Addington site, thinking that the CBD would be back in action by then, and were going to take time out until the future of the inner city was less uncertain. Empty spaces, missing places Although the restaurant and bar buildings and their fit-out capture a sense of history and charm that people associate with the Dux brand, the empty wasteland and building sites that surround the Dux Central in particular quickly destroy any illusion of permanence or familiarity. Now that most of the quake-damaged buildings have been demolished, the freshly-scarred earth of the central city is like a child’s gap- toothed smile. Wandering around the city and forgetting what used to occupy an empty space, wanting to visit a shop or bar before remembering it is no longer there, being at the Dux but not at the Dux – these are the kind of things that contribute to a feeling Anderson describes as “lost city syndrome”. 322 Although initially worried she might be alone in mourning places lost, others have shared similar experiences of this nostalgia-variant. One person explains how there are two different cities fighting for dominance in their head: “The new keeps trying to overlay the old [but] when I’m not 319 “Dux Live best in NZ,” Press, 20 Sep 2014, A9. 320 Leah Flynn, “Award-winning venue closes for good,” Press, 16 Mar 2016, A4. 321 Ibid. 322 Vicki Anderson, “Lost city syndrome,” Press, 19 Mar 2012, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the- press/opinion/blogs/rock-and-roll-mother/6600468/Lost-city-syndrome. 85 looking at pictures, or in seeing it as it is, it’s the old city that pushes its way to the front”. 323 Others expressed relief that they were not the only ones feeling strangely homesick in their own town, homesick for a place they never left but that had somehow left them. 10: Dux Central, surrounded by construction & empty space (March 2016) There are a variety of methods residents used to fill the gaps in both memories and cityscape. The Human Interface Technology Laboratory New Zealand (HITLab), based at the University of Canterbury (UC), produced a technical solution: an interactive software application (app) for Android phones and tablets. 324 Called CityViewAR, the augmented reality app makes use of GPS data and 3D models to show users parts of the city as it was prior to the earthquakes (see figure 10). However, not everybody needed technological help to remember buildings and details. Many people found that just by listening to a certain song or remembering particular gigs, it was not simply an image of a building that appeared, but a multi- sensory event complete with sound, movement, smell, and emotion. In virtual spaces like the Save our Dux group, memories of favourite bands and songs, crowded gigs, old friends, good times, great food, and long nights were shared and discussed, 323 Ibid., Comment by ‘Juniper’. 324 “CityViewAR,” HITLab NZ, n.d. ca. 2011, http://www.hitlabnz.org/index.php/products/cityviewar. 86 weaving a rich and colourful tapestry about a favourite part of Christchurch’s social scene. 11: A HITLab employee demonstrating the CityViewAR app, City Mall (May 2012) There is a particular type of longing expressed by those who are still at home and yet cannot return to the home they knew. Whereas nostalgia is often experienced by people far from home who wish to return or those idly enjoying memories of a bygone era, people after disaster often encounter a similar nostalgic feeling with no change in time or place – a ‘loss without leaving’. This sense of being unable to find solace in one’s home environment has been given a name by Australian environmental philosopher, Glenn Albrecht, who coined the term ‘solastalgia’ to represent “the form of homesickness one experiences when one is still at home”. 325 This feeling can be brought on by natural events such as fire, flood, drought or hurricanes, or by artificial means, like war, mining, climate change or gentrification. Solastalgia is often felt most keenly when people experience the change first-hand, for example a sudden natural disaster, and then have to adjust to life in a totally changed environment. This can create the “chronic distress of a solastalgic kind [that] would 325 Glenn Albrecht, “Solastalgia,” Alternatives Journal 32, no. 4/5 (2006): 35. 87 persist well after the acute phase of post-traumatic distress”. 326 Just as the visible, physical effects of disaster last for years, so do the emotional effects, and there have been many occasions where music has functioned as a healing salve for a community that is hurting after disaster. Music and community after disaster Musical performances can be considered as intangible and ephemeral. The Eastern’s Adam McGrath laments that live music is often thought of as something that “only exists on the night [and] doesn't always seem that valuable”. 327 There are times, however, when there seems no doubt about the value of musical performance. Anderson recalls a moment from the afternoon of February 22, 2011: “sitting in a stranger’s living room… Adam McGrath of The Eastern sang Old McDonald to my kids. My children laughed, and in that pure moment, I felt content”. 328 Sometimes it is the small moments that make a big difference after disaster. Anderson considers the performances given by McGrath and friends in the weeks immediately after the February earthquake, during which they were “playing in makeshift backyards, standing in liquefaction delivering their stomping sounds and attempting to bring a smile to distraught people’s faces,” 329 to be the most meaningful gigs they ever played in the city. Those performances may have only existed in that moment but the memories will last a lifetime and the value can be seen in non-monetary units: a smile on a weary face, a grimy brow slightly less furrowed, and some distraction from the destruction. Even though some people thought that a lack of music venues in Christchurch would result in a lack of music, McGrath says “there was more music than there ever 326 Ibid., 36. 327 Quoted in Vavasour, “Entertaining Shakeytown”. 328 Vicki Anderson, “A Light in the Darkness,” Press, 18 Mar 2011, sec. GO 2. 329 Vicki Anderson, “The Eastern,” Press, 18 Mar 2011, sec. GO 9. 88 was before”. 330 McGrath and Puffin felt that making music was the best contribution they could make to the recovery process of the city and its people. They, along with other harbour-based musicians including Marlon Williams and Delaney Davidson, played music all over the city in a variety of locations and venues. Of performing in the broken city, Puffin said that “not only is it quite good fun... this feels worthwhile at the moment”. 331 There were other musicians who also sensed the need for music among the chaos. New Zealand music legend, Dave Dobbyn, caught the first available flight to Christchurch and then made his way around the makeshift refugee centres, playing impromptu concerts surrounded by welfare queues and exhausted families who were resting on mattresses on the floor. 332 Outside the cordon fences, as the city’s remaining venues slowly reopened after repairs, a wide variety of people could be seen congregating in a small number of bars and pubs. Lindon Puffin found himself facing a strange cross-section of the Christchurch community at times, playing to a crowd that looked like several different events – a 21 st , a wedding, and a 50 th – had all collided. 333 But this is a challenge that Puffin enjoys, so he draws on his songbook, engages with the audience and takes requests, creating an atmosphere in which people can have fun – performer included. Playing to a diverse group of people with a common objective was something that felt worthwhile and meaningful to Puffin, and provided a sense of normality and hope, and a chance to relax in a time where so much was abnormal. Immediately after disaster, many aspects of life can be disrupted or suspended, from power supply to transport to the normal structure of society. Victor Turner describes this as an example of ‘liminal’ time, a threshold or in-between space, 330 Quoted in Vavasour, “Entertaining Shakeytown”. 331 Ibid. (ES) 332 Dave Dobbyn, “The Loudest Silence,” Press, 18 Mar 2011, sec. GO 3. 333 Vavasour, ”Entertaining Shakeytown”. 89 in which privilege, job, or social status no longer determine modes or methods of interaction. 334 Communitas is a homogenization or levelling process that blurs status distinctions and dissolves the normal hierarchical structure of society. 335 Under normal conditions, society works to “define differences between individuals, limit their interaction, and pull them apart, [whereas] communitas serves to unify, bond, and transcend structural relationships”. 336 Edith Turner says communitas can be described as “a group’s pleasure in sharing common experiences with one’s fellows [and a state of being that] often comes in the direst moments of the life of a person or society”. 337 Communitas is a concept that resists definition as it has endless variations, and is also hard to manufacture, as it is at its best when spontaneous. 338 It has been noted that there can be a “tremendous upsurge in altruism and cooperation following a disaster, creating a veritable “postdisaster utopia” [as was seen] in response to the September 11 attacks”. 339 While existing within a state of communitas, “human beings recognize the core humanity they share, [and r]elationships are immediate and spontaneous”. 340 McGrath remembers many such moments: “You learnt real quickly and you learnt about how to negotiate with other people, on a real deep level, making really immediate connections. If someone wanted to hug you, you hugged them. If someone wanted to cry, you let ‘em cry”. 341 The feelings of equality, immediacy, and openness often associated with communitas were evident among the people of Christchurch after the earthquakes. 334 Victor Turner, The Ritual Process (New York, Cornell University Press, 1977), quoted in Jeffrey Rubenstein, “Purim, Liminality and Communitas,” AJS Review 17, no. 2 (1992): 250 335 Carr, “We Never Will Forget,” 38; Rubenstein, “Purim, Liminality and Communitas,” 251 336 Rubenstein, “Purim, Liminality and Communitas,” 251. 337 Edith Turner, Communitas: The Anthropology of Collective Joy (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012): 2. 338 Turner, Communitas, 1, 221. 339 Carr, We Never Will Forget,” 38. 340 Rubenstein, “Purim, Liminality and Communitas,” 251. 341 Quoted in Vavasour, “Entertaining Shakeytown”. 90 Music provides solace in hard times and the shared experience of a musical performance, in particular, fosters strong emotional connections. The ritualistic aspects of musical performance can be “linked to the profound experience of communitas inherent in the social drama of disaster”. 342 For many Christchurch residents, the simple act of spending time together while enjoying a musical performance helped create and strengthen social bonds. Anderson says music was a lifeline, getting her through the bad times by helping to “drown out the sounds of fear with the sound of life”. 343 Music is often linked with the concept of communitas as, for a disaster community, music offers an opportunity for positivity and unity at a time when there is much uncertainty and disconnection. In the aftermath of a disaster, circumstances and personal attributes interact to influence how people react, think and feel about the experience. 344 Surviving a disaster is more than not dying, “survival is to do with quality of life [and] involves progressing from the event and its aftermath, and transforming the experience”. 345 Dealing with change wrought by disaster is stressful and unpredictable, and has been shown to have long-term impacts on physical and mental health that can last – or occur – long after the disaster itself is considered to be over. However there is more to a disaster than the initial headline event/s, and the aftermath is often divided into four phases, although their definitions, descriptions and timings are debated and contested. Victor Turner’s 1974 description of the four phases of disaster has many similarities with the disaster phases used by the New Zealand Government’s Chief Science Advisor, Professor Sir Peter Gluckman, in his 2011 report on the 342 Carr, “We Never Will Forget,” 38 (italics in original). 343 Anderson, “A Light in the Darkness”. 344 Peter Hodgkinson and Michael Stewart, Coping with Catastrophe: A Handbook of Disaster Management, (London: Routledge, 1991): 20. 345 Hodgkinson and Stewart, Coping with Catastrophe, 2. 91 psychosocial effects of the Canterbury earthquakes. 346 The first of Turner’s four phases begins just after the event itself, with the ‘breach’ of social contract that “represents a drastic break with normal life”. 347 The second phase is the ‘mounting crisis’ which involves recognising the extent of the damage; followed by a third phase of ‘redressive action’, in which institutional or improvised mechanisms are implemented to heal the breach. The final phase is ‘reintegration’, when the crisis is overcome and life returns to normal. The first of Gluckman’s four phases also starts just after the initial event with the ‘heroic’ phase. This is followed by the ‘honeymoon’ phase, during which help arrives and people feel the situation is improving. The third phase Gluckman considers to be “somewhat awkwardly and unhelpfully termed the ‘disillusionment phase’ in which people realize how long recovery will take and become angry and frustrated”. 348 As with Turner, the final phase sees a return to some kind of normality, or a ‘new normal’ at least, but Gluckman notes it is important to “understand that this is a long-term process with no clear endpoint in that things can never return to exactly what they were before the disaster”. 349 Whether people left the city or stayed amidst the chaos, there were significant mental health issues to be addressed and timeframes that would continue to be extended. Although the earthquake has been described as an ‘egalitarian’ event, in that everybody in the city went through the same event at the same time, 350 people not only experience different stresses at different times, they also react in a variety of different ways. The ongoing seismic activity “expos[es] people to recurrent acute stress, while 346 Peter Gluckman, “The Psychosocial Consequences of the Canterbury Earthquakes,” Office of the Prime Minister’s Science Advisory Committee [Briefing paper], 10 May 2011. http://www.pmcsa.org.nz/wp-content/uploads/Christchurch-Earthquake-Briefing- Psychosocial-Effects-10May11.pdf. 347 Victor Turner, Dramas, Fields, and Metaphors, (New York, Cornell University Press, 1974), quoted in Carr, “We Never Will Forget,” 38. 348 Gluckman, “Psychosocial Consequences,” 2. 349 Ibid. 350 Fiona Farrell, quoted in Philip Matthews, “Life in Brownleegrad,” Press, 18 Jul 2015, C4. 92 at the same time, chronic stress is imposed by the on-going human, economic and social costs” of the disaster. 351 The initial M7.1 earthquake in September 2010 caused substantial traumatic stress to the city’s residents, which was then compounded by the widespread destruction of the February 2011 earthquake, “return[ing] many people back to the beginning of the cycle”. 352 Even now, five years later, aftershocks and insurance or building woes see thousands of residents still bouncing back and forward between Gluckman’s phase three (disillusionment) and Turner’s phase two (mounting crisis). There are similarities between those recovering from disaster and those suffering acute bereavement or from post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD), in that multiple emotions will be experienced and there will be variation in people’s responses and progression through the various stages. 353 Gluckman notes that, after disaster, “many people… will experience psychosocial effects – both individual psychological effects impacting on how people feel and social effects impacting on how they relate to each other”. 354 ‘Normalisation’ has been identified as key to the recovery process: by getting people back to everyday activities such as work, school, socialising and enjoying a sense of community; and through recognition that the variety of psychological and emotional reactions experienced after the traumatic events are quite normal, “and are not reflections of being mentally unwell or weak”. 355 In response to this report, members of several key agencies, including the Ministry of Social Development, Ministry of Health, Canterbury District Health Board, and local councils, were brought together as the Psychosocial Response Committee, 356 which 351 Gluckman, “Psychosocial Consequences,” 1. 352 Ibid. 353 Ibid., 4. 354 Ibid., 1. 355 Ibid., 5. 356 Ibid., 8. 93 oversaw the creation of the All Right? campaign 357 to help Christchurch residents get through the difficult times. All Right? The All Right? campaign promotes ways of improving wellbeing by providing information on how to accept, and deal with, the variety of emotions being experienced by many residents. Ciaran Fox, programme design and delivery specialist at the Mental Health Foundation and mental health promotions strategist for All Right?, says the campaign’s goal is to “enable Cantabrians at a population level to activate their own coping mechanisms, to grow a better understanding of their mental wellbeing and the things that impact on it, and how they can look after themselves through this time”. 358 Campaign material and events, as well as advice to the public and the agencies that deal with them, are all based on regular market research, which serves as a useful barometer as to where people, families, and communities are at in terms of their recovery and general mood. Despite the wealth of information available about the likely stresses in post- disaster communities, Fox says this kind of sustained approach to looking after community and individual wellbeing after disaster has not really been done before. The Gluckman report identified likely psychosocial consequences and the need for consistent, evidence-based messages that would hopefully see most of the population coping well enough to avoid the need for acute mental health services. The lack of previous long-term and co-ordinated examples in similar post-disaster contexts meant the All Right? team were largely blazing their own trail. However Fox says they have followed the existing evidence around what works for people’s wellbeing, kept in touch with the community’s mood and progress through regular research, and have done the best they could. 357 “About Us,” All Right, n.d. updated ca. 2015, http://allright.org.nz/about-us/. 358 Ciaran Fox, interviewed on 18 Dec 2015, at the All Right? office, Madras St, Christchurch. 94 The Mental Health Foundation has adopted and promoted the ‘five ways to wellbeing’ identified in the 2008 Foresight Project on Mental Capital and Wellbeing report, 359 and these form the basis of the All Right? campaigns. These five ways are: Connect (talk, listen, be there, get involved); Give (of your time and presence); Take notice (appreciate the simple things, remark on the unusual, be curious); Keep learning (embrace new experiences, set challenges); and Be active (step outside, move your body and your mood). 360 Fox recalls how, in those early days after the earthquakes, The Eastern and friends “did an amazing job at engaging community spirit, at rallying people, at cheering us all up… they were really identified, for a lot of people, as being part of that – the best of us in that situation”. 361 Both organised and impromptu musical events helped people connect, take notice, and be active at a time when it was sorely needed. There were many musicians in Christchurch at that time who felt that playing intimate gigs in whatever makeshift venues people could offer was the best way of being useful in the situation. Fox says that what flowed from those small suburban gatherings was “incredible, because people also realised how useful music was at a time like that. More than just ‘nice to have’, it was essential: it was what made us human… it was such a great reminder that music and art is essential to flourishing and living well”. 362 He says that recovery is not just about getting the roads fixed and infrastructure rebuilt, it is also about what sustains the soul: “there’s something kind of spiritual as well about music, and whether that’s overt or not, whether people realise that or not, it’s about what they enjoy and what they do”. Music can be beneficial in tumultuous times, in part because it is a very normal (and normalising) 359 “Mental Capital and Wellbeing,” UK Government, 2008, https://www.gov.uk/government/collections/mental-capital-and-wellbeing#final-project- report. 360 “The Five Ways to Wellbeing,” Mental Health Foundation, 361 Interview, 18 Dec 2015. 362 Ibid. 95 thing for many people, but also because it encourages connection and sharing, and can happen anywhere, at any time, with very few resources required. After the initial disaster phases, when electricity supply and internet connections had been restored, Fox says the All Right? team “found their voice on Facebook,” and set about creating sharable content. With an active and engaged community congregating and finding comfort through the All Right? Facebook page, the idea was to “make little videos that were an extension of the campaign, and also demonstrate acts of kindness”. 363 Fox felt it was important to nurture and maintain the sense of community that many residents felt immediately after the earthquakes, so the team worked to create random acts of kindness and happiness that would brighten people’s days. Several of the campaign events organised by the All Right? team had a musical basis, including some of the ‘Outrageous Bursts of All Right?’ events that modelled or rewarded caring behaviour in the local community. 364 Whether giving away compliments, coffee, petrol or flowers, these carefully orchestrated moments “are about sharing a little love”, 365 and then sharing the love again via short videos made for the All Right? campaign’s social media outlets. One early ‘burst’ saw a lucky group of concert-goers receive a surprise upgrade at the Ten Tenors concert, at the CBS Arena in October 2013. After being told that there was an issue with their allocated seats, all eight were led upstairs to a corporate box, where they were treated to a VIP experience. 366 What started as a “nice night out” for one woman and her friends became an outrageous experience, captured on film and posted to the All Right? website. As well as working with a planned evening event in a traditional performance space, the All Right? team also took music into unexpected places during the daytime. 363 Ibid. 364 For the full range of All Right? campaign events see http://allright.org.nz/our-projects/. 365 “Outrageous Burst: The Ten Tenors,” All Right? n.d. ca. 2013, http://allright.org.nz/our- projects/ten-tenors/. 366 Ibid. 96 The eastern suburbs of Christchurch were among the hardest-hit parts of the city, and the local Pak n Save supermarket in Wainoni was a vital community hub. To Fox, it presented the perfect venue for another ‘Outrageous Burst of All Right?’, this time a flashmob featuring members of the CSO. He says, “it was a lot of fun for a number of reasons. [It is] maybe not a place that classical music has a high profile, so that was lovely, and it was also lovely to remind people of beauty that is still available to us… it was a little present to the east, really”. 367 The video, BYO CSO, shows unsuspecting shoppers ‘conducting’ their normal shop before musicians in full evening dress unpack their instruments and begin to play in between the end-of-aisle specials and the chilled goods. 368 People smile, they stop and chat, and many take out their phones to capture the moment before all those watching are showered with confetti and given grocery vouchers by the All Right? campaign mascots. One of the final ‘Outrageous Bursts of All Right?’ was actually a series of ‘Little Bursts’ across the city, and this time it was all about gratitude and modelling the concept of ‘giving back’. 369 After receiving nominations from the community, several deserving people were selected to receive a singing telegram from The Eastern, who tweaked the lyrics to one of their songs for the occasion 370 . The All Right? team, the band, and video crew spent a day traversing the city, surprising people like Sonny Makiri, a traffic controller who was nominated for his friendliness and cheerful demeanour on the job, as well as some teachers at Redcliffs School, city office workers, and some lovely neighbours. 371 Fox says that particular shoot was very emotional for all concerned, filled with the kind of genuine surprise and gratitude that “unlocks a lot of feelings for people”. 372 The page featuring the video of the singing 367 Interview, 18 Dec, 2015. 368 “Outrageous Burst: BYO CSO,” All Right? n.d. ca. 2014, http://allright.org.nz/our- projects/byo-cso/. 369 Interview, 18 Dec, 2015. 370 “Smiles rewarded with random act of music,” Press, 18 Oct, 2014, A2. 371 Ibid.; Interview, 18 Dec, 2015. 372 Interview, 18 Dec, 2015. 97 telegrams on the All Right? website carries the following warning: “Have a hanky nearby. You’ll need it”. 373 This is indeed good advice but thankfully they are the good kind of tears, the type that come from seeing and sharing a genuine emotional connection, a connection that continues to be made no matter how far distant in time or place the viewing occurs. Much of the early work done by the All Right? team centred around print material like posters, cards, and newspaper advertisements. These featured the kind of simple, consistent messages around emotions, reactions, and care of self and others, that Gluckman identified as being key to coping and recovery among the general population. 374 As the All Right? campaign continued, there was also regular encouragement to take part in social and physical activities, from sharing compliments 375 to taking part in a walking festival. 376 Music can play a key role in keeping people active and engaged, through the connections with others that are created by shared enjoyment of an event and also by using music to inspire movement and dance. The All Right? campaign was a key sponsor of The Press Summer Starter, an event described as part fun run/walk, part music festival. 377 The ten kilometre course traversed the eastern suburbs of the city, starting in New Brighton (full-length course) or Ti Rakau Reserve in Woolston (four kilometre option), and finishing in Redcliffs with a party. All Right? campaign manager, Sue Turner, says “Christchurch has become a tale of two cities – those thriving and those struggling. Starting the run in 373 “Little Burst: Singing Telegrams,” All Right? n.d. ca. 2014, http://www.allright.org.nz/our- projects/singing-telegrams/. 374 Gluckman, “Psychosocial Consequences,” 5. 375 “Compliments,” All Right? n.d. ca. 2014, http://allright.org.nz/our-projects/compliments/. 376 “Walking Festival,” All Right? n.d. ca. 2015, http://allright.org.nz/our-projects/walking- festival/. 377 “Music to keep pace with runners,” Press, 8 Nov 2014, A10. 98 Christchurch’s hard-hit east sends a strong signal that we’re all in this together”. 378 Along the route were music stations featuring a variety of musical performances and styles, from a string trio to DJs, Polynesian drummers to a barbershop quartet. All Right? sponsored the musical acts involved with the Summer Starter, “many of which were selected for their connections to Christchurch’s eastern suburbs”. 379 Headline act for the 2014 finish party was the queen of New Zealand hip hop, Ladi6, Christchurch- born Karoline Tamati, who was happy to ‘give back’ to her hometown, 380 and particularly the eastern suburbs where she grew up. During her time in Christchurch, Ladi6 was shown around the city by the All Right? crew, visiting “parts of town that were special to her,” and meeting people who were doing great things and inspiring others. 381 Ladi6 says the experience was fantastic: “I got to tour Christchurch and see what’s really happening. I got to interview [deputy mayor] Vicki Buck, and Johnny Moore from Smash Palace… We did a lot of awesome things”. 382 Fox says that Ladi6 is “a bit of an inspiration herself, and much-loved by locals, so that was a nice thing to do”. The resulting feel-good videos show off the city’s street art, music project Beat Box, social services agency, Youth and Cultural Development (started by Ladi6’s parents in 1992), as well as hospitality venues Brick Farm and Switch Espresso, and can be seen on the All Right? website. 383 Physical activity is one of the ‘five ways to wellbeing’ that underpinned the All Right? campaign strategies. As Summer Starter co-ordinator, Jo Blair, says, 378 “The Summer Starter,” All Right?, n.d. ca. 2014, http://www.allright.org.nz/our- projects/summer-starter/. 379 “Music to keep pace”. 380 Brittany Mann, “Ladi6 to headline Summer Starter,” Press, 25 Oct 2014, A14. 381 Interview 18 Dec, 2015. 382 Quoted in Vicki Anderson, “Out of Africa – Ladi’s homecoming,” Press, 28 Nov 2014, A17. 383 “Ladi6 Discovers Chch,” All Right, n.d. ca. 2014, http://www.allright.org.nz/our- projects/ladi6/. 99 “Music is a great way to take the pain out of exercise”. 384 Immediately after the February earthquake, when access to the central city was blocked by cordon fences and many buildings had been damaged or destroyed, the routines of daily life were massively disrupted for most of the city’s residents. One of the early All Right? posters featured a dancing granny in curlers and pyjamas, and posed the question: “Had a good boogie lately?”. Dancing, says Fox, is “an inherently affirming thing and happy thing to do, so it was a really good one to remind people that it’s possible to have physical activity even though we’d lost a lot of facilities”. 385 For people whose exercise routines usually centre on gyms and their equipment, finding new ways to incorporate exercise into their lives can be a challenge, “so those kind of messages around dancing were just little ways to build it back into our lives. It didn’t matter that you couldn’t go anywhere… you can just put on some music and you can dance. And anyone can dance”. And, as the poster illustrated, you do not even have to get dressed or leave the house to do it. Also disrupted by the effects of the earthquakes were the city’s many festivals. Some, like the Jazz and Blues Festival in 2011, were cancelled, and many others struggled due to a lack of available or accessible venues, or because low levels of funding, sponsorship, or ticket sales threatened their viability. The All Right? team identified the Body Festival as a key event for the city, not only as it was all about dance and movement but also because “it was one of the more participatory festivals we have and also gets people moving, gets people learning, gets people connecting with others [and] they had a lot of community outreach”. 386 The festival’s artistic director, Adam Hayward, was “delighted with the collaboration between the All Right? Team and the festival. I hope it shows the power of dance to improve our 384 “Music to keep pace”. 385 Interview, 18 Dec, 2015. 386 Ibid. 100 community’s social, health and physical wellbeing”. 387 More than 10,000 people danced as part of the most recent Body Festival, with many residents taking part in ‘Have-A-Go’ workshops featuring different dance styles like tango, waltz, Victorian dance and hip hop 388 . Unfortunately for the Body Festival (which has been held every year since 2002), 2015 would turn out to be their ‘last hurrah’ as severe funding cuts, poor ticket sales, and further projected financial difficulties saw the organising trust wind itself up in November that year. 389 In both 2014 and 2015, the All Right? team worked with the Body Festival to create and organise an event called ‘Do A Little Dance’. This workplace dance challenge involved teams of co-workers getting together on a regular basis to choreograph and rehearse a dance routine to their choice of song. 390 Although the event’s Facebook page 391 shows there were positive reactions from those who took part, Fox describes the project as a limited success, perhaps due to the level of preparation and commitment required to take part. Even though it was pitched as a “dance competition for people who don’t dance,” and one that was not hugely competitive or serious, 392 there may have been something too formal and constrained about the format. The requirement for regular rehearsals and the co-ordination of a group of people during (or after) work hours potentially scheduled the fun out of what is, for most people, the spontaneous joy of dance. Fox is still hopeful that maybe one day, the time will be right for this workplace dance-off, as more people realise how good dancing is for both the body 387 Quoted in “Case Study: All Right? Campaign – Christchurch,” Creative NZ, n.d. ca. 2015, http://www.creativenz.govt.nz/development-and-resources/advocacy-toolkit/case-study-all- right-campaign-christchurch. 388 Ibid. 389 Charlie Gates, “Body Festival finishes citing poor ticket sales, lack of funding,” Press, 19 Nov 2015, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the-press/news/74167543/body-festival-finishes-citing- poor-ticket-sales-lack-of-funding. 390 “Do a Little Dance Workplace Challenge,” All Right?, n.d. ca. 2015, http://allright.org.nz/our-projects/body-festival/. 391 https://www.facebook.com/alittledance/?fref=ts. 392 Interview, 18 Dec 2015. 101 and mind. He says the image of the boogying granny is one of their most popular, and the use of music for dancing has been very important during the recovery period. “Dancing is a really great way to be active and have fun. It’s more than just grinding physical exercise, dance, it’s generally uplifting and joyful”. 393 Even though ‘Do A Little Dance’ may not have been the success he hoped for, he remains “deeply encouraged by things like Gap Filler’s Dance-O-Mat,” and the invitational nature of much of their work. Gap Filler Like the All Right? campaign, Gap Filler is not a strictly musical enterprise but many of its projects involve music. After the first earthquake in September 2010, Ryan Reynolds, a lecturer in theatre and film studies at UC, along with his partner, fellow thespian Coralie Winn, set about making use of the city’s empty spaces – some of which had been empty for years. 394 After that first earthquake struck, Coralie says she had “no job, no theatre, no nothing… [and] the city was very strange and very quiet. There were fences up, some buildings had come down or were coming down, and it felt like a lot of people were staying away”. 395 Reynolds, Winn, and friends decided to take over an empty city site, and “[w]ithin a few weeks of the quake, [had] created an outdoor café, art house cinema and music venue”. 396 Even though the group had no money and few expectations, the site proved a huge success, with 41 bands playing over the two weeks it was in operation. 393 Ibid. 394 Rebecca Macfie, “Can Christchurch be revitalised?,” Listener, 14 Jun 2012, http://www.listener.co.nz/culture/life-in-new-zealand/can-christchurch-be-revitalised/. 395 Quoted in Peter Young (director), The Art of Recovery [documentary], 2015, Fisheye Films. 396 Macfie, “Can Christchurch be revitalised?”. 102 12: Lindon Puffin performs in a Colombo St gap (April 2011) The level of interest in their first project caught Reynolds and friends by surprise. The fact that so many performers – musicians, poets, storytellers all – were desperate to share their thoughts and gifts showed that people were craving gathering and performance spaces. 397 From humble beginnings, relying on volunteers and donated goods, Gap Filler is now a charitable trust with regular funding support which means Winn, and others, can now be paid for their tireless work. 398 Gap Filler have filled empty Christchurch sections with such weird and wonderful things as a cycle- powered cinema, a collection of mini-golf holes scattered around the inner city, a fridge filled with books that people can add to or take freely, and donated, brightly painted pianos that are available to all. They have also organised or facilitated hundreds of music gigs in empty spaces around the city (see figure 12), which, at a time when there were very few open venues, was a welcome addition to the city’s extremely limited entertainment options. 397 Ryan Reynolds, “Looking backwards, thinking forwards,” Gap Filler, 26 Nov 2015, http://www.gapfiller.org.nz/looking-backwards-thinking-forwards/. 398 Macfie, “Can Christchurch be revitalised?”. 103 13: People gather for the Sound Garden opening (October 2013) Gap Filler also created the Sound Garden – an interactive space featuring musical instruments fashioned out of re-purposed materials. Built as part of the Festival of Transitional Architecture (FESTA) in 2013, the Sound Garden was inspired by a video clip featuring Brazilian street musicians installing instruments among the urban landscape. With an emphasis on fun and experimentation, the project gives people the chance to “make some sweet sounds in contrast to the demolition/construction noise scape”. 399 In a city where many may feel like they no longer have control over any aspect of their environment, creating music out of chaos (or even just adding to the noise) places them firmly within the moment and allows them to make an impact. The Sound Garden was one of many Gap Filler projects that showed music can not only be created out of anything, it can be enjoyed anywhere, at any time, without the restrictions that have come to be placed around it – whether those boundaries are made of bricks and mortar or social expectations. 399 “New project alert – Sound Garden and RAD Bikes launch this week,” Gap Filler, n.d. ca. 2013, http://www.gapfiller.org.nz/new-project-alert-sound-garden-and-rad-bikes-launch- this-week/. 104 14: Coralie Winn (L) turns to watch a road cone being played at the Sound Garden opening (October 2013) The largest and most ambitious project undertaken by Gap Filler was the Pallet Pavilion – an open-air performance and social space built using recycled pallets, of which there was no shortage in the city. With a design team that consisted of recent architecture graduates and built using volunteer labour, the pavilion’s foundation was also recycled, built with sections of floor from the demolished Clarendon Tower. 400 After 250 volunteers spent almost 3000 hours constructing the temporary events centre, the Pallet Pavillion opened in 2012, just before Christmas. Almost immediately after opening, the venue was beset by noise complaints from annoyed neighbours, and after initially stopping all live music gigs, agreed to hosting more subdued acoustic performances that did not continue late at night. 401 Noise complaints about temporary venues, and particularly those without a roof, are perhaps to be expected and it certainly was not an unusual occurrence in a city where many gigs 400 Marc Greenhill, “Waste not, want not for Gap Filler’s latest project,” Press, 12 Oct 2012, A4. 401 Sam Sachdeva, “Pallet Pavilion termed noisy,” Press, 28 Dec 2012, A5. 105 took place in canvas marquees. 402 But the Pallet Pavilion faced some unique challenges during its operating life. 15: The Pallet Pavilion at night (January 2013) Lighting design by Kevin Cawley Given the size and visibility of the project, and the financial status of the Gap Filler organisation, it was often necessary to enlist the help of the public to help run and look after the Pallet Pavilion. As part of the building consent conditions, Gap Filler needed to satisfy the Fire Service’s concerns about the arson risk and have someone on-site at all times, and had been paying for overnight patrols from their limited funds. With the cost of professional security services proving prohibitive, the organisation used their Facebook page to try and find a creative solution. Charitable or community-minded night-owls were sought to baby-sit the venue overnight between 11.30pm and 7am, with use of a tiny office and free wi-fi available. Vicki Anderson was one who answered the call, spending the evening alternately talking to friendly visitors and being spooked by the weird noises of the near-empty inner city. 403 402 Vicki Anderson, “Noise the decider in closing music venue,” Press, 5 Apr 2012, A11; Ibid., “Freebies to please the neighbours,” Press, 1 Jun 2013, A18. 403 Ibid., “Babysitting the Pallet Pavilion,” Press, 24 Jun 2013, http://www.stuff.co.nz/the- press/opinion/blogs/rock-and-roll-mother/8835206/Babysitting-the-Pallet-Pavilion. 106 The Pallet Pavilion was originally supposed to come down at the end of April 2013, but after the successful hosting of concerts, community events, and World Buskers Festival acts, calls for it to be retained grew louder. 404 Gap Filler set up a crowd-funding campaign on fundraising site, PledgeMe, and successfully raised over $80,000 to keep the venue running for another year. 405 After a second summer of hosting events in a city still starved of venues, Gap Filler teamed up with local percussionist, Brett Painter, to ensure the Pallet Pavilion went out with a bang. 406 Painter, principal percussionist with the CSO, put together a one-off band called The Deconstruction Orchestra and composed a piece of music for the occasion, entitled constructionDEconstruction. With a nod to the noise complaints the venue received in its first days, its final days would be sent off with music that combined familiar city sounds like the Wizard and the tram, the Christ Church cathedral bells, with sounds representing the earthquakes and the city’s reconstruction. 407 In a performance that really did bring down the house, the Deconstruction Orchestra played a fitting farewell on traditional instruments as well as chainsaws, sledgehammers, and a toilet seat. Without doubt, the most successful Gap Filler project has been the Dance-O- Mat, something that many people said would never work. Reynolds says that when they started work on the idea, “a lot of people thought that no one in Christchurch would dance in public. They said Christchurch was too conservative”. 408 Inspired by a laundromat situated outside the Addington Coffee Co-op, the idea behind the project was deceptively simple: use a coin-operated washing machine to create a user-pays music system that works just like a laundromat, except your money buys playing time: $2 for 30 minutes. The laundry theme was further explored on the initial Dance-O- 404 Marc Greenhill, “Pleas to retain Pallet Pavilion longer,” Press, 27 Apr 2013, A5. 405 “Fundraiser gives pallet pavilion reprieve,” Press, 7 Jun 2013, A2. 406 Vicki Anderson, “Sound of the city,” Press, 4 Apr 2014, sec. GO 8. 407 Ibid. 408 Charlie Gates, “Dancing in the street,” Press, 25 Jul 2015, A1. 107 Mat site, with the addition of a rotary clothes line complete with the kind of flouro t- shirts sported by most construction and demolition workers around the city (see figure 16). 16: Shirt tales, Dance-O-Mat site #1 (March 2012) Winn says the Dance-O-Mat’s location, near the edge of the central city’s red zone, created “a nice juxtaposition of destruction and dance”. 409 It also made dance extremely visible to passers-by and to the public in general, something Fox says is incredibly powerful. He explains that dance is often hidden, “locked away in either dance clubs at night or in rehearsal spaces where the public don’t see,” so having such a public dance space is invaluable in terms of normalising this kind of activity and behaviour. 410 Fox laughs and says, “it’s a little bit like the old Field of Dreams cliché, but if you build it, they will come”. Experimentation is key to many of Gap Filler’s projects, and the Dance-O-Mat was a huge risk in what is considered by many to be a straight-laced city, but Winn says it “has proven that Christchurch people will dance in public if given a space to do so”. 411 Reynolds says the Dance-O-Mat project somehow captured the public imagination and, “before we knew it we were kind of in 409 “Shake, rattle and roll – to music this time,” Press, 17 Mar, 2012, A18. 410 Interview, 18 Dec 2015. 411 Coralie Winn, “Vacant space a gap for growth,” Press, 8 April 2013, A15. 108 the middle of something that was bigger than us”. 412 Even after some low-life stole the original t-shirts off the clothesline, there was plenty of colour on display at the Dance- O-Mat, in ways that many would not have anticipated. 17: Gap Filler staff and supporters test out the Dance-O-Mat in its first week of operation (March 2012) Just as the earthquake had shaken up the landscape and its inhabitants, the conservative image that many people had of this southern city was also about to be shaken up, thanks to this small outdoor dance floor. First came the Superhero Dance Squad, an anonymous group of people in superhero costumes who gathered (for a while at least) each night at 7pm. 413 Fox has fond memories of the Superhero Dance Squad and their dance parties, and says that sort of activity cannot be designed for. “It just is a way that people respond to it, and I think there’s something about that great combination of music and dance, that ability to come play your own music and do it in your own time, it was a real winner”. 414 The Dance-O-Mat has been described as a 412 Quoted in Peter Young, The Art of Recovery. 413 Superhero Dance Squad [video], 2012, https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qe9YvNVQKg0. 414 Interview, 18 Dec 2015. 109 “brilliantly simple cross between art installation and collective therapy,” 415 and although this temporary dance floor is currently at its fourth different location, it seems to have found a permanent place in many people’s lives. 18: DubFX gig in the Bedford Marquee on Madras St (April 2014) Residents of Christchurch have become accustomed to partying in temporary facilities since the earthquakes, as many music gigs and other events have been held in marquees and vacant spaces across the city. So much of what used to take place indoors is now happening in open spaces or under canvas but, as music creates and defines its own space in conjunction with the mind of the listener, physical location ceases to be of much importance. With its disco ball shooting glimmers of light around the empty spaces, the Dance-O-Mat played host to a silent disco as part of the Body Festival in 2012, “a tribute to the lost dancing nightlife of our city”. 416 Writer, Vicki Anderson, was one of those taking part, putting on headphones and keeping both eyes shut as she shyly “cut a few shuffly shapes on the dance floor hidden by a group of carefree women who smelt of regret and shampoo”. 417 As the music played, Anderson says her ‘mind’s eye’ was elsewhere, dancing through treasured city venues 415 Helen Anderson, “Pop-up city,” Australian, 7 Dec 2012, http://www.theaustralian.com.au/life/travel/pop-up-city/story-e6frg8rf-1226531535005. 416 Vicki Anderson, “The sound of silence,” Press, 12 Oct 2012, sec. GO 10. 417 Ibid. 110 that now existed only in memory: “Dancers, like nightclubs, come and go in the twinkling of an eye but the dance lives on”. 418 The city as we knew it has gone but, emerging from the cracks is a creative spirit attempting to fill the gaps in our lives, one empty space at a time. The Dance-O-Mat has seen many thousands of dancing feet since the first coin was inserted into the washing machine in 2012. In the first three months alone, over 600 hours of use was recorded (based on the money collected), 419 and thousands of people have had a little dance, including Prince Charles and Camilla who took to the floor while visiting the city on their 2014 Royal Jubilee tour. 420 More recent figures show there is still steady usage of this little experiment – from July 2014 to July 2015, the dance floor was activated over 1800 times, “meaning that Christchurch people have danced in the street for about 934 hours in just over a year”. 421 Although it is a transitional project, “the social connections that are made and the experience that people gain from being part of it, that’s something that’s permanent”. 422 Living in a permanently altered environment, this temporary dance floor has provided many benefits for both casual and more committed dancers. As well as the loss of many performance venues, the city is also suffering from a lack of rehearsal space for music makers and music users alike. Many different dance groups have brought their dance classes out into the open and a wide range of styles have been seen on the Dance-O-Mat, “from salsa to flamenco, break dance, swing, ceroc, [and] belly dancing”. 423 Sarah James, a member of the Swingtown Rebels dance group, says the Dance-O-Mat is a space where everything is not centred 418 Ibid. 419 “Dec 20, 2014 The Dance-O-Mat (Location No.4),” Gap Filler, 20 Dec 2014, http://www.gapfiller.org.nz/dance-o-mat/. 420 “Prince Charles and Camilla try out the Dance-O-Mat!,” Gap Filler, n.d. ca. 2014, http://www.gapfiller.org.nz/charles-and-camilla-try-out-the-dance-o-mat/. 421 Gates, “Dancing in the street”. 422 Brie Sherow, Life in Vacant Spaces, quoted in Young, The Art of Recovery. 423 “Dance-O-Mat (Location No.4)”. 111 on the earthquakes. It is a space filled with “the feeling of happiness and community… just like nothing had changed and [you are] just having fun with friends and having a dance”. 424 Both music and dance are helping people in this shattered city to re-establish a sense of place and self, and to process the at-times overwhelming changes that are taking place on a daily basis. 19: The Dance-O-Mat drying out after overnight rain (March 2016). The un-repaired Christ Church Cathedral can be seen to the left, and Julia Morrison's Tree Houses for Swamp Dwellers is far right. The Dance-O-Mat’s current location sees it sitting between the recently- restored Isaac Theatre Royal and Julia Morrison’s large-scale public artwork, Treehouses for Swamp Dwellers. When Peter Young’s documentary on the city’s creative response to the earthquakes, The Art of Recovery, premiered at the Isaac Theatre Royal as part of the 2015 New Zealand International Film Festival, Fox was in attendance with friends who feature in the film. A big fan of the Dance-O-Mat, Fox said it was the logical place for the group to meet before the screening, and they all had a little dance before going in to watch the film “because it just felt like the right thing to do”. 425 Winn says that people’s willingness to participate in the creative re- 424 Quoted in Young, The Art of Recovery. 425 Interview, 18 Dec 2015. 112 use of these spaces is not only key to recovery but shows how important the engagement of the people is to the success of any venture. 426 Although there is a simple idea at the heart of this wildly popular project, it is not necessarily an easy thing to replicate. After fielding more than a dozen inquiries from cities around the world keen to set up their own Dance-O-Mat, the Gap Filler team have created a manual, which has building instructions for both the physical space and the level of community engagement required for success. Reynolds says, “If a council in another city just replicated that design and put it in a vacant space, it would get used less than the one in Christchurch. The significance of it would be diminished”. 427 So important is community engagement to the success of the Dance-O-Mat, “more than half of the manual [that Gap Filler created] is about how to ensure the Dance-O-Mat is embraced by the local community”. 428 The Gap Filler team are ecstatic to see the potential for this idea to go around the world, but whether it works as well (or at all) in other cities and countries remains to be seen. The long road to recovery Christchurch provides a unique case study for those interested in city planning, regeneration, resiliency, and community coping strategies after disaster. Brent Toderian, a city planner and urban designer visiting from Vancouver, explains that “the first instinct we have as humans after a pretty significant tragedy is to try to rebuild civic life, and we use arts and culture and other things we love to really bring people back together and help start the healing process”. 429 But this process is not as simple as reopening art galleries and building new venues for not only has the city changed, its people have been altered too. Reed Kroloff, an architectural commentator 426 Quoted in Young, The Art of Recovery. 427 Gates, “Dancing in the streets”. 428 Ibid. 429 Quoted in Young, The Art of Recovery. 113 with experience in the US cities of New Orleans and Pittsburg, says that “cities reborn after disaster are reborn with a different population”. 430 While he is loath to use the words ‘hardened’ or ‘world-weary’, he acknowledges that people in a disaster zone “have had an experience that many other people have never had, so there’s a certain level of self-reliance”. 431 Many of those who have visited the city over the last five years comment on the creative uses of space and interesting installations on display: one Australian travel writer delighted in the “viral rash of witty, inspiring and ephemeral expressions of community solidarity and human ingenuity popping up in the city and suburbs”. 432 It is worth noting that most of these creative responses have been generated from within the affected community, by individuals and local groups who can identify and quickly respond to a perceived need, and are not afraid – or too big – to fail. Reynolds observes that people in Christchurch have not only been responding to the individual Gap Filler projects but also the sense of possibility they represent. By creating temporary projects, he says, “what we really did was lower the risk. If it’s temporary, you don’t feel the pressure to get it 100% right, you’re open to new ideas… you lower the cost of failure so much that almost every idea becomes worth trying”. 433 In contrast, most of the large-scale, permanent civic projects (like the convention centre, arts precinct, public library and sports stadium) have not yet moved beyond the concept design phase. Participatory projects allow the community to engage and make an impact on their environment, even if only temporarily, and foster a feeling of change and progress where none might otherwise be evident. Reynolds says there is a sense of parallel progress that has been enabled by Gap Filler and other community groups: 430 Ibid. 431 Ibid. 432 Anderson, “Pop-up city”. 433 Reynolds, “Looking backwards, thinking forwards”. 114 “Alongside the official and commercial rebuild has been a community of experimentation, reimagining the city not in words and architectural renders, but by constantly bringing it into being”. 434 By not sitting around waiting for permanent solutions, by shifting the focus from surviving to thriving, from rebuilding to reimagining the city, organisations like All Right? and Gap Filler have given people opportunities to feel involved, engaged, and ultimately, energised and excited about living here. It is not a quick and easy task, rebuilding a city and its people. The Gluckman report on psychosocial consequences was published in May 2011 and was based on the scientific literature available at the time. The estimates were that, for most people, phase three – the disillusionment (or recovery and rehabilitation) phase – would last between four and nine months. It is now over five years since the earthquakes began in Canterbury, and many people would still consider themselves to be disillusioned and nowhere near a sense of normality. The latest research conducted for the All Right? campaign in November 2015 shows that, when comparing people whose insurance claim had not been settled with those who have settled, people with unsettled insurance claims were more likely to feel frustrated (53% c.f. 34%), angry (27% c.f. 10%), filled with uncertainty (49% c.f. 28%), and that life was much worse than before the earthquakes (50% c.f. 26%). 435 However, qualitative research findings show there are also people who feel positive about the future of the city, with community-led projects like Gap Filler being seen as the most successful aspects of the recovery process. Although there has been a reasonably steady decrease in the numbers of people overall who consider themselves to be stressed or struggling, there are still some concerns about the general wellbeing of Christchurch residents. Only fifty per 434 Reynolds, “Looking backwards, thinking forwards”. 435 “A summary of All Right? research findings,” All Right, Jan 2016, http://allright.org.nz/media/uploads/AllRightResearchSummary2016_i1yGc7O.pdf. 115 cent of respondents to the latest survey said they regularly slept well – the same as it was in 2012 when the research was first conducted. Fewer respondents agreed that they regularly ate well (72% in 2015, 80% in 2012), and the numbers of those “grieving for what we have lost of Christchurch” has stayed consistent, at about two thirds of respondents. 436 In addition to the drops among key indicators in these regular ‘touching base’ surveys, the state of the regions mental health is regularly in the news, with stories about higher recorded numbers of suicide attempts and the never-ending pressure on mental health services in the region. 437 While there have been reported increases in “calls for service relating to attempted suicide” in Canterbury, these figures include people registering concern about another person and multiple calls about a single person or event, as well as rural areas where social isolation and lack of social connection are significant factors that cannot necessarily be linked to the earthquakes. 438 There is no reliable, scientific method of determining how much of an effect the All Right? campaign, and the collective efforts of musicians or community organisations like Gap Filler, have had on the population of Christchurch. There is no ‘control city’, for example, in which 400,000 other people who experienced the same events and stresses were not offered reassuring messages and regular distractions but were instead left to fend for themselves, that we can now compare ourselves to. What has been shown, however, is that dispensing data for psychotropic medication in the region has not shown any significant increase in Canterbury since the earthquakes. Psychotropic medications affect emotions and behaviour, and are 436 Ibid. 437 Ashleigh Stewart, “Suicide attempts increase in Canterbury,” Press, 21 Jan, 2016, A1; Ibid., “Canterbury’s mental health funding to be cut,” Stuff.co.nz 16 Feb 2016, http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/health/76850687/canterburys-mental-health-funding-to-be- cut; Ashleigh Stewart and Jo Moir, “Government to fund several mental health packages worth millions for Canterbury,” Stuff.co.nz, 21 Mar 2016, http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/health/78107902/government-to-fund-several-mental- health-packages-worth-millions-for-canterbury. 438 Stewart, “Suicide attempts increase in Cantebury”. 116 grouped into four main classes: antidepressants, antipsychotics, anxiolytics, and sedatives/hypnotics. Using the national database for the prescription and dispensing of psychotropic medications, researchers analysed local and national trends over several years, from 2007 to 2014, which allowed “robust comparisons between pre- and post- disaster” data, as well as between the Canterbury District Health Board (CDHB) and other parts of the country. 439 Beaglehole et al found that, although there was a short- term increase in the dispensing of sedatives/hypnotics and anxiolytics in Canterbury after the initial earthquakes in 2010 and 2011, there was no significant change in the dispensing levels of antidepressants or antipsychotics, and no long-term or above- average increase in the prescription of any psychotropic medications in the region. Anecdotal evidence and newspaper headlines may have lead many people to believe that there had been a significant increase in the use of prescription medication for things like stress, anxiety, depression and sleeplessness in Canterbury. This disparity between expectations and evidence was certainly of interest to Beaglehole et al, who wondered why more changes in prescription rates were not observed. The authors note that “[a]lthough mental health symptoms and disorders are commonly reported sequelae of disasters, the impact on a population varies significantly between studies,” 440 and they offer some suggestions about interpreting the data, and what it might say about the mental health of Cantabrians. Some people or population sub-groups, for example, may have been seriously impacted by the disaster and experienced significant changes in medication usage, but those variations were not visible in data covering the wider population. Another possibility is that some individuals choose not to seek help in times like this and, rather than being among those unaffected by events, they are just not visiting medical professionals. Another suggestion is that many of those who may have been 439 Ben Beaglehole at al. “The impact of the Canterbury earthquakes on prescribing for mental health,” Australia & New Zealand Journal of Psychiatry 49, no. 8 (2015): 746. 440 Ibid., 748. 117 “vulnerable to the effects of the earthquakes were over-represented in the population shifts after the earthquakes,” 441 and therefore any medication prescribed to this group would be included in data from the DHB in the region(s) they moved to. The study also notes that, in response to the earthquakes, a number of government, medical, and social agencies provided targeted health services for residents, such as free counselling sessions, easily accessible primary health care, and other social supports, which “may have reduced the demand for specialist mental health services… or provided other means of managing symptoms without the use of psychotropic medication”. 442 One thing the study’s authors did not mention is the All Right? campaign – something that CERA wellbeing research shows almost half of survey respondents are aware of, with 69% of those having a favourable or very favourable opinion of the campaign, a figure that is increasing every year. 443 The goals of the All Right? campaign are very much about keeping the majority of people in the greater Christchurch area functioning at a level where acute mental health services are not required. It is incredibly difficult to definitively measure success in this area – the many surveys and research on the attitudes and physical or mental health of the Christchurch population have different methodologies, different aims, and different conclusions. Just because psychotropic prescription rates in Canterbury have not increased does not mean that the numbers of people with fragile mental health have also not increased – as noted, people may not seek help, they may be using other coping strategies, or they may have moved outside the area. But these prescription results are a positive indication that the potential for a widespread mental health crisis in Christchurch after the earthquakes has not been realised. 441 Ibid. 442 Ibid., 749. 443 “Wellbeing Survey,” CERA, Sept 2014, 12, http://cera.govt.nz/sites/default/files/common/cera-wellbeing-survey-september-2014- report.pdf. 118 It would be a mistake, though, to think that the All Right? campaign’s time has passed, that there is no further need for wellbeing promotions and creative opportunities to connect, give, move, learn, and take notice of the good that surrounds us. While the latest All Right? survey shows that the percentage of respondents who are worried about another big earthquake had dropped from 54 per cent in 2012, to 42 per cent in 2015, 444 planetary forces pay little attention to survey results. Without stopping for gift wrap, the network of faultlines that lie beneath the city delivered another round of seismic activity, starting with a magnitude 5.7 earthquake on Valentine’s Day, 2016, that caused further cliff collapses around Sumner, and was followed by many noticeable aftershocks over the next two weeks. 445 Reactions among residents were mixed, with some thrown straight back into emotional turmoil, while others quickly dusted themselves off and got on with the clean-up. 446 The All Right? team, which is now down to a staff of one – Ciaran Fox – jumped straight on the Facebook page to send out reassuring messages to those affected. There is most definitely still a need for some bursts of All Right?. Conclusion What this collection of stories and case studies has shown is that, whether it happens intentionally or accidentally, music can be used in a variety of ways after disaster that result in an improvement in the wellbeing of the listener. Songs are able to recreate a particular moment in time and place through the multi-sensory associations they carry in their lyrics, melody, and imagery, as well as the often vivid memories they spark of what was happening, and with whom. A song shared is a connection made – between people, between moments, between good times and bad. 444 “A summary of All Right? research findings,” Jan 2016. 445 Andy Fyers, “Map: Every Christchurch earthquake since Valentine’s Day,” Stuff.co.nz, 29 Feb 2016, http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/77367436/map-every-christchurch-earthquake- since-valentines-day.html. 446 Kurt Bayer, “Valentine’s Day earthquake shreds Christchurch’s nerves: ‘We all know it could have been worse’,” Herald, 15 Feb 2016, http://www.nzherald.co.nz/nz/news/article.cfm?c_id=1&objectid=11589601 119 Both live and pre-recorded music can bring people together, get people moving, keep them learning, growing… living. Reflecting on the local musicians who played their hearts out when it was needed most, the trips down memory lane afforded by certain songs, the freedom and joy that comes from dancing like no one is watching – some of the greatest benefits for community wellbeing came from these moments, from the use of music and the creative harnessing of community spirit. Hardly any of this was created by government agencies, and it wasn’t in the instruction manual for ‘how to deal with disaster’. But it should be, for music rebuilds the soul and strengthens the heart, without which nobody or city can truly live. 120 Chapter 6: Looking back, moving forward Six months after the February 22 earthquake, I interviewed Adam McGrath about the rewards and difficulties involved with entertaining people in a disaster zone for a radio documentary due to air on the first anniversary of the September 2010 earthquake. Towards the end of our interview, in a reflective mood (which is not unusual for Adam), he made the observation that was selected to close out the programme: “It’s been a real blur, and at some point I guess I’ll get to sit down and write it all out and figure it all out and remember it all… but I think with time and perspective we’ll all look back on this and say hey, you did pretty good. I’m proud of you”. 447 Time and perspective are in short supply immediately after a disaster, and it is often only years later that the value and significance of seemingly small actions and brief moments becomes clear. 20: View during phone call to RNZ, St Albans Park, March 2011 A few months earlier, in March 2011, I was sitting beneath a shady tree on a beautiful sunny day, ready to take a phone call from a producer at Radio New Zealand (RNZ) National. Over the previous days, Jim Mora’s afternoon show had been playing items about Christchurch that had previously aired on the long-running Sunday afternoon programme, Spectrum. Jack Perkins, Spectrum’s senior producer, 447 Vavasour, “Entertaining Shakeytown”. 121 wanted to include my piece from 2010, and it was arranged that after it played, I would join the panel by phone to provide an on-the-spot perspective on recent events. The day suggested was one on which I planned to attend an open-air gig by Adam McGrath and his many musical friends in St. Albans, which provided the perfect setting. Positioned a reasonable distance from the music to avoid disturbing the vibe or overwhelming the on-air conversation, I listened as the final moments of my first documentary programme on local music, Harbour SouNZ, played out on the radio. What struck me as I watched and waited was the palpable sense of community among the people gathering for this hastily arranged gig. It felt similar to the community feeling among the Lyttelton-based musicians and residents I encountered while making Harbour SouNZ, but with amplified levels of rawness and honesty, and layered with an underlying sense of relief. As people arrived and spotted familiar faces, there were shrieks, hugs, tears and laughter as they shared experiences, survival tips, news of mutual friends, locations of water supply points, and any food they happened to have. At this point in time, just one week after the big event, not everyone had regular access to news and information, as power and internet were still out for many. The only way to know if someone had survived the earthquakes, for the most part, was to see them in person. This hastily thrown-together music gig in a small suburban park provided a multitude of additional benefits beyond the pleasure of listening to the music itself: the ability to catch up with friends and family, to hear news of others, an opportunity to connect and relax, and to do something just a little bit normal while the city (and some of its people) shook and crumbled around us. There was no scientific research behind musicians’ willingness to get involved – many simply sensed a need and tried to help out the best way they knew how. Musicians, especially those who perform frequently, know how to read a crowd, and how to adjust their performance style and content to guide or suit the mood, to ensure everyone has the best time possible. Good disaster preparation extends beyond 122 evacuation plans and emergency supplies, and Fox argues that while supporting local musicians might seem like a strange addition to the mix, “they will be the sorts of people you turn to in these times when there is no power, when there are no venues. They’re people that are skilled at curating a space, at creating an environment for people to relax and connect”. 448 With very little preparation or setup, musicians can entertain and distract people from what surrounds them. Many of the New Zealand musicians who took part in fundraising or morale- boosting endeavours after the Christchurch earthquakes had limited financial resources but gave freely of their time and energy. Compare this to US hip-hop artist Jay Z who, after seeing the damage and distress in New Orleans after Hurricane Katrina in 2005, donated a million dollars but ultimately felt like he contributed very little. 449 He reflects on the experience in his song, Minority Report: Sure I ponied up a mill, but I didn't give my time So in reality I didn't give a dime… Damn, that money that we gave was just a band-aid. 450 There are many benefits that flow when music and musicians are involved in a charitable cause. At a basic level every dollar raised, every item donated for auction, every song on a compilation album counts towards the greater goal of recovery after disaster. Yet, as Jay Z seems to belatedly realise, the benefits that flow from the communal enjoyment of music can be worth far more than monetary donations to those in a disaster zone – for both performer and audience alike. In that liminal time after disaster, when so much is altered and uncertain, people seek comfort in the familiar and in the company of others. Fox would like one of the messages from Christchurch to be that musicians are precious and should be treasured, because it is they who will rise to the top and rally people’s hope and optimism. The sense of communitas experienced by those gathering for a musical 448 Interview, 18 Dec 2015. 449 Kish, “My FEMA People,” 685. 450 Jay Z, “Minority Report,” Kingdom Come [album], 2006, Roc-A-Fella/Def Jam Records. 123 event after a disaster “is crucial, and actually a real strength if you can harness it, and a good way to do that is to enable events to occur”. 451 After disaster, it is important to create or identify spaces and places where people can safely gather, and that need does not dissipate as soon as the immediate danger passes. But it is important to appreciate that communitas cannot be made to order or produced on demand. 21: Sign of the times – counting down to a street party in Lyttelton (July 2011) The state of communitas may turn up when you least expect it, and when you also need it most. Asked to describe why music mattered, Adam McGrath put it this way: “Music is affirming. When you have nothing it can give you purpose, hope, inspiration and courage. It gives moments to discover yourself and your place in the world”. 452 There are times when people need a little reminder about where they are needed, and times when people gather together to share music but also find hope and courage. The town of Lyttelton is well known for its street parties and it sometimes seems as if half of Christchurch has gone through the tunnel for a good night out. In 2011, the usual Festival of Lights street party was due to be held on London Street just a few days after the big June aftershock cluster, and there were fears that 451 Ibid. 452 Adam McGrath, “The Importance of Music,” Why Music Matters, 12 Oct 2012, http://anz.whymusicmatters.org/mmanz/blog/importance-music-adam-mcgrath-eastern. 124 everyone would be scared and stay home. Adam remembers going from fear to joy when, on the walk from his house, he realised that the streets were full of cars searching for a park: When I got to the corner of London and Canterbury [Streets], my eyes exploded at the wash of people, thousands of ya… my heart burst, my hope- o-meter flung itself into the red and maybe after a whole bunch of months of fear and failure and desperate times I got a glimpse that maybe it’d all be ok, that maybe we could see out all this shit and find our way home again… I was for a few moments rebuilt. 453 Many people feel they need music to survive, and so too, do musicians need people. Not just because of the economic relationship involved but also because the reciprocal nature of communitas that emerges in times like this can provide the boost that is needed for both performer and audience to carry on. Communitas is an elusive concept that presents in many different situations and is something that, once encountered, is unlikely to be forgotten. Edith Turner says that trying to describe communitas “is like trying to locate and hold down an electron. It cannot be done. Communitas is activity, not an object or state”. 454 While music is not a requirement for the state of communitas, it often occurs where music is present through the singing, dancing, listening, and sharing that takes place. This may be one of the reasons for Gap Filler’s successes with creative uses of space, for there is also a playful aspect to communitas in that it can suddenly appear in the “space between things”, 455 which is the natural habitat of a Gap Filler project. Architectural commentator, Reed Kroloff, says disaster communities have “a certain level of self- reliance and a level of self-awareness and pride [which] is potentially a huge benefit to cities. [Decision-makers should] harness that kind of energy and say ‘let’s give 453 The Eastern Facebook post, 29 Jun 2013. Within 30 minutes of posting, this had been ‘liked’ by almost 4,000 people. 454 Turner, Communitas, 220. 455 Ibid., 221. 125 these people room’”. 456 One thing there is currently no shortage of in Christchurch is empty spaces, most of them in the inner city where buildings have been demolished. But the continued success of groups like Gap Filler relies on there being landowners who would rather enrich the community than their pocket, which many owners do by leasing the space to Wilson’s 457 for yet another carpark. City planner, Brent Toderian, says it is ironic that, “once we have time and money to spend on a permanent solution, we start to default back to old, safe decision- making. We over-think things, we go back to what the market will do or not do, instead of really holding true to those first human instincts”. 458 The earthquakes have brought a lot of changes to the physical and psychological landscape of the city, and not all of them bad. Many in the city have a new appreciation of what really matters to them, a willingness to try new things, and a sense of openness. Fox thinks the earthquakes have changed the outlook for the city and its people, and it is a change he would like to see continue. Residents no longer feel that activities like music and dance have to happen in prescribed places, and Fox feels that the earthquake has been beneficial as it brought the underground up over ground a little, where people can see and experience it. People now realise that “we can make this happen anywhere at any time, and I think that’s a great learning”. 459 There will undoubtedly be a period of transition for these transitional organisations, as the number and availability of empty sections diminish. But there is plenty of time yet – one thing we have all learnt is that when rebuilding on such a massive scale, everything takes longer than anticipated, including personal recovery. 456 Quoted in Young, The Art of Recovery. 457 Charlie Gates, “Car parks taking over central Christchurch,” Press, 20 Jul 2013, http://www.stuff.co.nz/national/8943931/Car-parks-taking-over-central-Christchurch. 458 Quoted in Young, The Art of Recovery. 459 Interview, 18 Dec 2012. 126 Ciaran Fox has been running workshops on wellbeing in Christchurch for many years now, helping people unlock their own wisdom around what keeps them well in times of stress. In every group, he says, there are some who talk about music. “They just talk about it like lifeblood, how important it is to them, just having music around. Not necessarily being musicians, just being people who love music”. 460 Every time those stories are told, Fox says he notices other people nodding and realising that music is important to them as well. Having talked about music and wellbeing for over 30 minutes by this point in the interview, Fox has now reminded himself of the importance of music in the recovery process, for individuals and the city as a whole: I can’t stress how important that actually is. The more I think about it, the more I remember it… it’s vital, so value your musicians, and be prepared to have them be involved in leading recovery, leading a response to a disaster, and value what they bring – that intangible stuff around people’s wellbeing and people’s hope, that will keep people going through the tough days. Musicians are absolutely precious, he says, and they need our support in the good times so they can be in good heart and good health to support the community through the bad times. When a city is in crisis, musicians can provide inspiration and keep people hopeful, and that is a vital component of the recovery process. It does seem as though the city is more appreciative of, and more involved with our musicians and creatives now that so much activity is happening in the public eye. There is also a hint of change underway in terms of our ‘insular’ nature as a city, and not just because of the international nature of the rebuild workforce. While there will always be those who construct a social hierarchy of Christchurch that is topped by descendants of the fabled first four ships, 461 and who reinforce the idea that being born here is the minimum requirement to be considered a true Cantabrian, the concept of being a local, of belonging to the community, may now be a little more invitational. 460 Interview, 18 Dec 2015. 461 Katie Pickles, Christchurch Ruptures, 2016, (Christchurch: Bridget Williams): 17. 127 Many aspects of personal or community identity become more complicated every time you add another variable or dig into the background of a ‘local’ favourite. Several of those who might be considered as local heroes of the rebuild – like the musicians who have been performing for their hometown or some of the leading lights in our creative recovery – would fail both parts of the ‘ships or birth’ localness test. For example, Jordan Luck was born in Canada, grew up in Geraldine, and now lives in Auckland; Lindon Puffin started life in Picton, moved to Rangiora then Christchurch, before leaving for Auckland (and coming back again); Jason Kerrison was born in Invercargill and now lives in Auckland; Coralie Winn hails from Adelaide and Ryan Reynolds from Chicago. But there will be many people in Christchurch who consider all of these people to be locals, and it would take a brave soul to try and argue against that perception. As with many other dichotomies, any attempt to distinguish a hard and fast line between insider and outsider will immediately run into grey areas. There are so many levels, layers, connections, and contradictions that it is better to think about degrees of insight, as physical location or cultural background are but a small part of a much wider and more complicated issue. Whether describing local identity or trying to define a community, the idea of place is simultaneously nothing and everything. If we can accept there is plurality in identity, and fluidity in textual meanings, then we need to also rethink the concept of local. After all, home is where the heart is – which is not necessarily where you were born or where you live now. The earthquakes do not define this city but there is no denying they have changed it, and it is up to us now – the people who call this place home – to make sure those changes are for the better. It may not be as simple as ‘take two songs and call me in the morning,’ but I do strongly recommend the regular application of music for a happy heart, soul, and community. 128 Chapter 7: Conclusion It is clear that disasters have an important cultural dimension, and that the popular culture of disaster can take many forms including the making of new songs and the remixing and reuse of existing music. Throughout history, musicians have written songs about disastrous events (whether or not they personally experienced them), and some consider these disaster songs to be a vital form of expression. However, there is more to music after disaster than disaster songs: music is also a fundraising opportunity and performance event, a communal experience as well as a cultural product. When examining the music of disaster, analysis of the text or object is only part of the story – it is crucial to take into account the circumstances and purpose of its production, as well as the methods of distribution and consumption. Research into popular music and the cultural scene of a disaster can be approached in many different ways, and every researcher has their own perspective based on location, background, and their level of familiarity with the community and its existing culture. For researchers, as with those who make music about disaster, an individual’s sense of identification and connection with those affected is not solely determined by location or cultural background. No-one is automatically inside or outside a situation, no matter how physically distant, however any differences that do exist will affect the output created. Whether that is through word use, choice of argument, opinions held, input sought or conclusions drawn, whether the difference is subtle or overt, those people whose lives, cities and issues are being discussed are likely to notice the disconnection. As a cultural product, music provides an ideal avenue through which to explore the effects of disaster on a community, looking for insights into conflicts, power struggles, heroes and villains, but focusing on music as object alone leaves out a significant part of the picture. This research has drawn on the lived experience of disaster, bringing together a number of voices, stories, actions, and reactions to provide a thick 129 description of music use in a disaster community. Despite the cultural differences, there are many similarities between the experiences and creative outputs seen in Christchurch, and other cities hit by disaster, like New Orleans in the US and Port-au- Prince in Haiti. In each location, music has been used to benefit disaster-affected communities by raising funds and spirits through events such as A Concert for Hurricane Relief, Hope for Haiti Now, and Band Together. There have been memories created and recalled by specific songs, and spaces filled or recreated through singing, dancing, and by being together. New songs have been written to commemorate who and what has been lost, and old songs have gained new meaning under different circumstances. Of those other cities, in fact for all the disasters that occur far from where we live, we rely on observations and interpretations from people who live there, from the media, and from those who make their voices heard beyond the crisis zone. While the large-scale music events and catchy tunes make an impact through media coverage, standard music distribution channels, or through online sharing or discussion, there are a multitude of activities and attitudes at street level that are invisible from afar. After the earthquakes in Christchurch, musicians from all over New Zealand, as well as several international artists, responded by holding fundraising events for the city. From one-off events at small bars in even smaller towns, to multi-artist events that packed out the biggest stadiums or open-air venues – the wide variety in the size and approach of events was far more than was shown through news media. Providing a sense of the sheer scale of the musical response, and uncovering some of the reasons why so many musicians took part in efforts to help the city has been a significant part of this research, and may help to expand the definition of charitainment as an overly entertaining and light version of charity. The ulterior motives and misrepresentations that are often associated with media events like telethons and celebrity rock concerts are not evident in the majority of events covered in this research. 130 Music provides a soundtrack to people’s lives, and during times of stress it can also provide many benefits through its use in a variety of methods and situations. The lyrics and video imagery of songs made in years gone by have been shown to take on new significance and meaning after disaster, offering snapshots of times, people and places that are no longer with us. Even without making use of the accompanying imagery contained in videos, music has the ability to recreate spaces or relocate the listener somewhere other than the physical location in they occupy. This small act of musical magic can provide a great deal of comfort when suffering solastalgia – the feeling of homesickness one experiences when the familiar landscapes of home suddenly change or disappear, when one has not left home but that home has nonetheless gone from sight. The earthquakes and the demolition crews that followed have created a lot of empty land in Christchurch and, through the creative use of space and materials, the sound of music has filled many gaps – not just on the ground, but in the hearts and lives of the people. Denied access to favourite social spaces, cut off from the regular rhythms of city life, organisations like Gap Filler have allowed residents to have an impact on the sound and feel of the city. Projects such as the Pallet Pavillion and the Dance-O-Mat have encouraged the community to engage with the environment and each other, they have brought life and people into the city centre, and showed the world that even Christchurch people will dance in the streets if you give them the means to do so. Perhaps unexpectedly, music has been a significant force in the recovery process through the role it played in the concerted efforts made by many to maintain and improve the general wellbeing of the community. A key tool of the All Right? campaign, music has been used to keep people moving, to keep them engaged and connected, and to reward and model the kinds of attitudes that help people heal both physically and mentally. Disasters can be incredibly stressful experiences, and the 131 stresses of the aftermath can be just as detrimental, if not more so, than the event itself, as they continue for much longer. Long-term mental health issues have been shown to effect people in disaster communities years after the initial event, and thanks to the combined efforts of mental health providers and researchers, and the many different musicians or individual pieces of music, the people of Canterbury appear to have escaped the worst effects. While this is cannot be attributed solely to the use or influence of music, it should be recognised as an important contribution to the recovery process of the city’s residents. But it has not only been in an official capacity that music has proved to be beneficial. Many local musicians were involved in performances around the city in the weeks immediately after the February earthquake, and some of those small events had an enormous impact. Although not trained in the intricacies of mental health and wellbeing, musicians have the ability to feel the mood of a crowd, to provide inspiration and thrive on the energy of a crowd. They are the ones who have kept people energised, enabled connections, and filled people with hope and joy. The feeling of communitas has been evident amongst those who have gathered for musical events of all types and sizes, whether live or recorded, whether it was the primary reason or a background soundtrack. Music has helped people to make sense and use of the spaces around them, and it has helped keep the past alive while finding new ways to live in this altered environment. The spirit of communitas captured in the production, or enabled by the shared consumption of music is an important aspect of researching the popular culture of disaster, and requires a certain amount of embedded knowledge to identify. Individual events, songs or albums can tell us much about people and experiences of disaster but they are only a small part of a much bigger picture. 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Smith, Susan J. “Performing the (sound)world.” Environment and Planning D: Society and Space 18, (2000): 615-637. Sullivan, Jack. “In New Orleans, did the Music die?” Chronicle of Higher Education 53 no. 3 (2006): 14-15. Sweetman, Simon. On Song. Auckland: Penguin Books, 2012. Tagg, Philip. “Analysing Popular Music: Theory, Method and Practice.” Popular Music 2 (1982): 37-67. Takazawa, Aiko and Kate Williams. “Communities in Disasters: Helpless or Helping?” Perspectives on Global Development and Technology 10 (2011): 429- 440. Turner, Edith. Communitas: The Anthropology of Collective Joy. New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2012. Van Loon, Joost. “Ethnography: A Critical Turn in Cultural Studies.” In Handbook of Ethnography, edited by Paul Atkinson, Amanda Coffey, Sara Delamont, John Lofland and Lyn Lofland, 273-285. London: Sage, 2001. 136 VanWeelden, Kimberly. “Classical Music as Popular Music: Adolescents’ Recognition of Western Art Music.” Update: Applications of Research in Music Education 31, no. 1 (2012): 14-24. Vavasour, Kris. “Entertaining Shakeytown.” Radio New Zealand, Spectrum. 4 Sep 2011. http://www.radionz.co.nz/national/programmes/spectrum/20110904. —. “Harbour SouNZ.” Radio New Zealand National, Spectrum. 15 Nov 2009. http://www.radionz.co.nz/national/programmes/spectrum/20091115. —. “www.useless.com: Crisis Communications on Shaky Ground.” MEDIANZ 14 no. 1 (2014): 54-82. Wachtendorf,Tricia. “Exploring the popular culture of disaster.” Paper presented at the annual meeting for the American Sociological Association, Chicago, Illinois, August 8, 1999. Webb, Gary. “The Popular Culture of Disaster: Exploring a New Dimension of Disaster Research.” In Handbook of Disaster Research, edited by Havidan Rodriguez, Enrico Quarantelli and Russell Dynes, 430-440. New York: Springer, 2006. Winchester, Hilary P.M. and Matthew W. Rofe. “Qualitative Research and its Place in Human Geography.” In Qualitative Research Methods in Human Geography, edited by Iain Hay, 3-25. Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010. Young, Peter. The Art of Recovery. Fisheye Films. 2015. Zemke, Kirsten. “New Zealand hip hop stands up.” In Home, Land and Sea, edited by Glenda Keam and Tony Mitchell, 104-113. Auckland: Pearson, 2011. Discography All Fall Down. “Black Gratten.” Wallpaper Coat [EP]. 1987. Flying Nun. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MoW9z2PLvmM. Bats. Block of Wood [single]. 1987. Flying Nun Records. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FJE7wIXKBrU. Bats. “Claudine.” And Here’s Music For The Fireside [EP]. Flying Nun Records. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pOAM6U1YsAA#t=14. Bats. “North by North.” Daddy’s Highway [album]. 1987. Flying Nun Records. Video uploaded 2011. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xC4SX4c50Ig. Beyonce. “Halo.” I am Sacha Fierce [album]. 2008. Columbia Records. —. Halo (Tribute to Michael Jackson) [live performance]. 2009. Video uploaded 2010. https://youtu.be/pB6KV01evl8. —. Halo (Hope for Haiti Now) [live performance]. 2010. https://youtu.be/W7gRyoVgKKs. Bryan Adams. “Heaven.” Reckless [album]. 1984. A&M Records. Charlie Miller. “Prayer for New Orleans.” Our New Orleans [album]. 2005. Nonesuch Records. Video uploaded 2014. https://youtu.be/liSL9TBI8YU. DJ Sammy and Yanou. “Heaven (Candlelight Remix).” Heaven [album]. 2002. Pulp Records. 137 —. Heaven 911 (I miss you Daddy) [unauthorized remix video]. 2002. Video uploaded 2011. https://youtu.be/J0S0UwqgYBY. —. Heaven (10 Yrs. I miss you Daddy) [unauthorized remix video]. 2011. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wyLxuy4tPLs. Elton John. “Candle in the Wind.” Goodbye Yellow Brick Road [album]. 1973. MCA Records. —. Candle in the Wind 1997 (Goodbye England’s Rose) [charity single]. 1997. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=A8gO0Z818j4. —. I’m Still Standing & Candle in the Wind (Live at Farm Aid 1990) [live performance]. 1990. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QYpRbR0fg54. Exponents (formerly Dance Exponents). “Christchurch (In Cashel Street I Wait)”. Expectations [album]. 1985. Mushroom Records. Video uploaded 2010. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=STg8MB7g62M. —. “Victoria.” Prayers Be Answered [album]. 1982. Mushroom Records. Video uploaded 2007. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=fmzLGVGZkVQ. —. “What Ever Happened to Tracy?”. Something Beginning With C [album]. 1992. PolyGram Records NZ. —. Who Loves Who the Most? Something Beginning With C [album]. 1992. PolyGram Records NZ. —. Why Does Love do This to Me? Something Beginning With C [album]. 1992. PolyGram Records NZ. Foo Fighters. My Hero [live performance]. 2007. Roswell Records. Video uploaded 2011. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Eyv2NzbqKnw. Jay Z featuring Ne-Yo. “Minority Report”. Kingdom Come [album]. 2006. Roc-A- Fella / Def Jam. Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie. When the Levee Breaks [single]. 1929. Columbia. Video uploaded 2013. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=swhEa8vuP6U. Leigh Franklin, Rob Mayes, and Mark Roberts. Space and Place [single]. 2013. Failsafe Records. songsinthekey.bandcamp.com/. Lindon Puffin. “Even Keel”. Harbour Union [album]. 2011. Social End Product. —. “Human Enough”. Harbour Union [album]. 2011. Social End Product. Live. “Lightning Crashes.” Throwing Copper [album]. 1995. Radioactive Records. —. Lightning Crashes (OKC Bombing Mix) [unauthorised remix video]. 1995. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XMxLbCmvxrE. Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday. “Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans.” New Orleans Original Motion Picture Soundtrack [album]. 1983 (originally recorded 1947). Giants of Jazz Productions. Video uploaded 2010. https://youtu.be/Xhkxy3ei8os. Maitreya feat. Che Fu & King Kapisi. Chur to the Chur [charity EP]. 2010. Self- release. Video uploaded 2011. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=-daXCgbh4ck. Mia X. My FEMA People [single]. 2006. Unknown label/release method. Video uploaded 2012. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xA7uBRyCB7Y. Moana and the Moahunters. “Rebel in Me.” Tahi [album]. 1993. Southside Records. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgJ4SEo5ro0. 138 Opshop. “Love Will Always Win”. Until the End of Time [album]. 2010. Rhythmethod. Video uploaded 2011. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xi2Zp4sfRns. Randy Newman. “Louisiana 1927.” Good Old Boys [album]. 1974. Reprise Records. Video uploaded 2008. https://youtu.be/MGs2iLoDUYE. Scribe. Not Many [single]. 2003. Dirty Records/Festival Mushroom Records. Scribe/BNZ. Not Many Cities [charity single]. 2011. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=XRcCzdHzZUg. Shallows. Suzanne Said [single]. 1985. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=aaXGI9NrGfQ. Swarm, The. Back the Blacks [charity single]. 2011. Self-release. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=oLntfpZJjKE. 139 Appendix 1: YouTube Playlist https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLwKFQf2PoiW5kkJqhNG1MpRyedS qunajq 1: Scribe/BNZ. Not Many Cities [charity single]. 2011. 2: Mia X. My FEMA People [single]. 2006. Unknown label/release method. 3: Live. Lightning Crashes (OKC Bombing Mix) [unauthorised remix video]. 1995. 4: DJ Sammyand Yanou. Heaven (10 Yrs. I miss you Daddy) [unauthorized remix video]. 2011. 5: Elton John. Candle in the Wind 1997 (Goodbye England’s Rose) [charity single]. 1997. 6: Beyonce. Halo (Hope for Haiti Now) [live performance]. 2010. 7: Louis Armstrong and Billie Holiday. “Do You Know What it Means to Miss New Orleans.” New Orleans Original Motion Picture Soundtrack [album]. 1983 (originally recorded 1947). Giants of Jazz Productions. 8: Charlie Miller. “Prayer for New Orleans.” Our New Orleans [album]. 2005. Nonesuch Records. 9: Randy Newman. “Louisiana 1927.” Good Old Boys [album]. 1974. Reprise Records. 10: Kansas Joe McCoy and Memphis Minnie. When the Levee Breaks [single]. 1929. Columbia. 11: Foo Fighters. My Hero [live performance]. 2007. Roswell Records. 12: Jed and Hera. Issues [single]. 2013. HeraSings. 13: Bats. “North by North.” Daddy’s Highway [album]. 1987. Flying Nun Records. 14: Exponents “Christchurch (In Cashel Street I Wait)”. Expectations [album]. 1985. Mushroom Records. 15: Maitreya feat. Che Fu & King Kapisi. Chur to the Chur [charity EP]. 2010. Self- release. 16: Opshop. “Love Will Always Win”. Until the End of Time [album]. 2010. Rhythmethod. 17: Exponents. “Victoria.” Prayers Be Answered [album]. 1982. Mushroom Records. 18: Ladi6. “Like Water.” The Liberation of… [album]. 2010. Independent release. 19: Dave Dobbyn and Lindon Puffin. “Kingdom Come.” Sony BMG. [Live performance] at Christchurch Arts Festival, 2009. 20: Delaney Davidson, Marlon Williams and Lindon Puffin. The Devil’s Right Hand [Live performance]. World Buskers Festival, 2014. 140 Appendix 2: Consent form Information and Consent PROJECT TITLE: More Than a Band Aid: How the use of popular music helped a city recover after disaster. RESEARCHER: Kris Vavasour Please read the following information before giving consent. This study is looking into the disruption the earthquakes have caused to musical output and consumption. By exploring aspects of the local popular music scene, this research will provide an insight into the altered social and cultural environment of our shaken city. This research project is being conducted by Kris Vavasour as part of the Cultural Studies Masters programme at the University of Canterbury, under the supervision of Professor Eric Pawson. If conducted in person, the interview will be recorded and then transcribed by the researcher. Portions of this interview may be quoted, summarised or paraphrased, and will be attributed to the interviewee unless confidentiality is specifically requested. If you wish to check the transcript of the interview before publication, please contact the researcher directly. Aspects of this research may be published or presented before completion of the Master’s thesis, and information gained during the interview may also be used in future research projects, reports or presentations. Your signature on this form indicates your willingness to participate in this project and gives consent for use or publication of information gained during this interview. Signature__________________________________ Date_________ Name______________________________________________________________ Email______________________________________________________________ CONTACT DETAILS: Researcher Supervisor Kris Vavasour Professor Eric Pawson Cultural Studies Geography kris.vavasour@pg.canterbury.ac.nz eric.pawson@canterbury.ac.nz This project has been reviewed and approved by the Geography department, University of Canterbury. 
work_d5iz4i6qavgfhnz66vbh2jjdlu	----	ians such as Ernestine Rose, head of the Harlem branch of the New York Public Library from 1920 to 1942, have sometimes inspired an un- realistic faith in what literacy can do but have also produced signiicant results, such as pro- moting integration or preserving the African American artifacts collected by the bibliophile Arthur Schomburg. Library history can be an integral component of a broader cultural his- tory, as it is in work by Roger Chartier, homas Augst, Christine Pawley, Janice Radway, David M. Stewart, and others. New digital tools—such as the online database What Middletown Read, which contains a decade of circulation records for one American public librar y in Muncie, Indiana—have made archives accessible for re- search into the reading habits of many people who did not write about their reading. The micro histories of libraries and book collections can help us understand what reading has meant not only to successful writers but also to the broader, increasingly digitalized population. It is too early for eulogies of the library. Barbara Hochman Ben- Gurion University Foucault and Queer (Un)Historicism To the Editor: It is likely that as a result of her critique of queer unhistoricism in “The New Unhistori- cism in Queer Studies” (128.1 [2013]: 21–39), Valerie Traub will soon ind Empiricist! embla- zoned across her theoretical chest. When people express the fear that queer studies is dead, per- haps they mean that it is locked in disciplinary repetitions that those of us who lived through the 1980s and 1990s recall all too well. One of the unanticipated consequences of the so- called linguistic turn was that it allowed some in En- glish studies on the one hand to invent a straw historian blind to any critique of history as tele- ology and on the other to claim that their own eforts to write history are at the vanguard. he queer- unhistoricist debate repeats these disci- plinary conceits. Mea nwhi le historia ns t hemselves have been engaged in a protracted attempt to grapple with the perils of their discipline. As Jonathan Goldberg and Mad hav i Menon’s manifesto “Queering History” (PMLA 120.5 [2005]: 1608– 17; print) suggested, the genealogical roots of queer unhistoricism go back at least to Hayden White (Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism [1978]). White’s predecessors include Nietz sche, in “On the Uses and Disadvantages of History for Life,” and in the late 1980s and 1990s White’s work was followed, for example, by Ranajit Guha, in Dominance without Hege- mony: History and Power in Colonial India, and Joan Scott, in Gender and the Politics of History. What is new in the queer- historicism de- bate is the assertion that, in an oft- cited pas- sage, Foucault posits a inal diference between the sodomite and the modern homosexual: The homosexual of the nineteenth century became a personage: a past, a history, and a childhood; a character; a form of life; a mor- pholog y, too. .  .  . We must not forget that the psychological, psychiatric, and medical category of homosexuality constituted itself from the moment it was characterized . . . by a certain quality of sexual sensibility, a certain manner of inverting in one’s self the mascu- line and feminine. (La volonté de savoir [Gallimard, 1976; print; vol. 1 of Histoire de la sexualité] 59; my trans.) Given t hat Foucau lt never denied t hat homo sex existed before the nineteenth cen- tu r y, why do t hose who seek to queer t he Renaissance return again and again to this passage (Goldberg a nd Menon 1611; Ga r y Ferguson, Queer (Re) Readings in the French Renaissance: Homosexuality, Gender, Culture [Ashgate, 2008; print] 1)? If we wish to explore, in periods like the Renaissance, what came to be—not by predestination or intelligent de- sign—the historicodiscursive preconditions of 1 2 8 . 4 ] Forum 1005 © 2013 John Champagne PMLA 128.4 (2013), published by the Modern Language Association of America the homosexual (who, however haphazardly or contradictorily constituted, is a discursive formation whose presence can be located in the archive), nothing in this passage forecloses this efort. he term queer was, at least initially, reinvented to refer to a subject other than the nineteenth- century homosexual. Note that, contra his unhistoricist critics, Foucault does not employ the term identity to deine a personage. Rather, he uses diference to do so—the diference between a juridical sub- ject and a disciplinary one, between a subject constituted by religious prohibitions and the subject of the science of sexuality. For some reason Robert Hurley, in his translation of the same passage, placed a comma rather than a co- lon ater personage (History of Sexuality: An In- troduction [Vintage, 1990; print] 43). his is not a minor alteration. Personage here is shorthand for the new kind of subject Foucault is strug- gling to deine. One of the basic tenets of structural lin- guistics is that language is a system of difer- ences with no positive terms. Homosexual inds one of its conditions of meaning in its diference from sodomite. he fact that both words exist— and circulate in diferent discursive contexts— suggests their diference from each other. Finally, in this passage Foucault is not in- terested in the disappearance of the sodomite— something he never says occurred—nor does he imply that the sodomite and homosexual have no relation to each other. He is, rather, interested in the historical emergence of the homosexual as a discursive category. he con- temporary Christian invocation to “hate the sin and not the sinner” is discursive evidence of the sodomite and his continuing life in the present. he endless return to this passage in Foucault suggests queer studies’ investment, for all its claims to the contrary, in identity politics, an in- vestment that is one of the ield’s historical con- ditions of possibility as an academic discipline. Unfortunately, the unhistoricist empha- sis on homo as sameness threatens to replicate the fantasy that desire is about the securing of “real” bodies and relations. There is nothing intrinsically homo about the homosexual, and queer is oten deployed as a nagging reminder of this. For those of us queers whose subjec- tivities were structured, long before we were capable of any kind of unconscious embracing of epithets, by insults like fag, fairy, homo, and bull dyke, our homo desire is inextricably wed- ded to our gender dysfunction and our inability to igure out if our sexual partners are in fact same, other, or something else. Given the hard- fought years of learning to love the (wo)man in me, I am not yet willing to give up the admit- tedly fatiguing project of attempting to think difference in nonhierarchical terms, perhaps even the nonbinary terms that Robyn Wiegman calls “triangular” in “Eve’s Triangles: Queer Studies beside Itself ” (Reading Eve Sedgwick: A Collection of Essays, ed. Michael O’Rourke [Pal- grave, forthcoming]). My (always provisional) knowledge of history, however, and of the ways in which male privilege has sometimes been un- derwritten by fantastic identiications with the feminine, troubles my own attempts to inish even these brief comments. John Champagne Penn State University, Erie- Behrend Jonathan Safran Foer and the Impossible Book To the Editor: In “Combining Close and Distant Read- ing: Jonathan Safran Foer’s Tree of Codes and the Aesthetic of Bookishness” (128.1 [2013]: 226–31), N. Katherine Hayles bookends some (useful!) Morettian word counting with a close examination of Foer’s die- cut book as one of a number that “are fighting back ” against “the epochal shift from print to digital texts,” in- sisting that the “bodies” of printed books of- fer something mere information cannot (226). 1006 Forum [ P M L A © 2013 Paul Ardoin PMLA 128.4 (2013), published by the Modern Language Association of America 
work_ddvan2awk5drhdyvl3zmt35mhi	----	HIS volume 17 issue 1 Front matter THE HISTORICAL JOURNAL VOLUME XVII EDITORIAL COMMITTEE T. C. W. B L A N N I N G , P H . D . J. P. T. BURY, L I T T . D . PROFESSOR W. O. C H A D W I C K , D.D., F.B.A. PROFESSOR G. R. E L T O N , L I T T . D . , F.B.A. PROFESSOR F. H. H I N S L E Y , M.A. H. M. P E L L I N G , P H . D . Q. R. D. SKINNER, M.A. PROFESSOR E. T. STOKES, P H . D . EDITOR D. E. D. BEALES, PH.D. CAMBRIDGE AT THE UNIVERSITY PRESS 1974 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core PUBLISHED BY THE SYNDICS OF THE CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS Bentley House, 200 Euston Road, London NWi 2DB American Branch: 32 East 57th Street, New York, N.Y. 10022 © Cambridge University Press 1974 Printed in Great Britain by The Eastern Press Ltd. London and Reading terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core CONTENTS OF VOLUME XVII ARTICLES AND COMMUNICATIONS PAGE Protector Somerset and Requests. By M. L. Bush . . . . 451 The Bishops and the Act of Exchange of 1559. By Felicity Heal . . 227 The Expansion of Europe and the Spirit of Capitalism. By Theodore K. Rabb 675 Slow Process, Due Process, and the High Court of Parliament: A Reinterpretation of the Revival of Judicature in the House of Lords in 1621. By J. Stoddart Flemion 3 ( >rThe King's Scottish Revenues and the Covenanters, 1625-1651. By ' David Stevenson 17 Power and Authority in Seventeenth-Century England. By Richard Tuck 43 \ / T h e Origins of ' W h i g ' and ' Tory ' in English Political Language. By Robert Willman 247 \/The Formulation of the Declaration of Rights. By Robert J. Frankle . 265 The Newspaper Press in the Reign of William III. By R. B. Walker 691 Public Finance and Political Stability: T h e Administration of the Land Tax, 1688-1720. By Colin Brooks 281 The Waltham Blacks and the Black Act. By Pat Rogers . . . 465 A Lost Letter of John Stuart, 3rd Earl of Bute, to George Grenville, 13 October 1761. By K. W. Schweizer. . . . . . . 435 The Gunboat Diplomacy of the Government of George Grenville, 1764-1765: The Honduras, Turks Island and Gambian Incidents. By Nicholas Tracy 711 The Pitt-Temple Administration: 19-22 December 1783. By Paul Kelly 157 British Parliamentary Politics, 1784-1786. By Paul Kelly 733 Direction and Purpose in British Imperial Policy, 1783-1801. By D. L. Mackay 487 Influence, Parties and the Constitution: Changing Attitudes 1783-1832. By J. A. W. Gunn 301 Major John Cartwright and the Founding of the Hampden Club. By Naomi C. Miller 615 Legitimist Opposition to the Revolution of 1830 in the French Provinces. By Roger Price 755 The ' Hungry Forties' and the New Poor Law: A Case Study. By Peter Dunkley 329 Peasants and Revolutionaries in Venice and the Veneto, 1848. By Paul Ginsborg 503 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core iv CONTENTS PAGE Child Workers in the Pillow Lace and Straw Plait Trades of Victorian Buckinghamshire and Bedfordshire. By Pamela Horn . . . 779 The Origins of Essays and Reviews: An Interpretation of Mark Patti- son in the 1850s. By Mark Francis 797 Gladstone and Nonconformity in the 1860s: The Formation of an Alliance. By G. I. T . Machin 347 Liberal versus Liberal, 1874: A Rebuttal. By Michael H u r s t . . . 162 ' Cambridge Idealism': Utilitarian Revisionists in late Nineteenth- Century Cambridge. By C. J. Dewey 63 Some British Reactions to German Colonial Methods, 1885-1907. By Kenneth Mackenzie 165 By Other Means: The Legal Struggle against the SPD in Wilhelmine Germany, 1890-1900. By Alex Hall 365 The Groupe Colonial in the French Chamber of Deputies, 1892-1932. By C. M. Andrew and A. S. Kanya-Forstner 837 Joseph Chailley-Bert and the Importance of the Union colontale francaise. By Stuart M. Persell 176 Capital, Government and Politics in the Transvaal, 1900-1907: A Revision and a Reversion. By A. A. Mawby 387 Influence, Power and the Policy Process: The Case of Franz Ferdi- nand, 1906-1914. By Samuel R. Williamson, Jr 417 \ / N o r m a n Angell and The Great Illusion: An Episode in pre-1914 Pacifism. By Howard Weinroth 551 The Anglo-German Negotiations over the Portuguese Colonies in Africa, 1911-1914. By J. D. Vincent-Smith 620 The French Colonial Party and French Colonial War Aims, 1914- 1918. By C. M. Andrew and A. S. Kanya-Forstner . . . . 79 —^Asquith, Bonar Law and the First Coalition. By Martin D. Pugh . 813 ^British Opinion, Ireland, and the War, 1916-1918. By David G. Boyce 575 Lloyd George and the 1918 Irish Conscription Crisis. By Alan J. Ward 107 The Foreign Office Reforms, 1919-21. By Zara Steiner and M. L. Dockrill 131 ' T h e Basque. Ulster': Navarre and the Basque Autonomy Question under the Spanish Second Republic. By Martin Blinkhorn . . 595 REVIEW ARTICLES T h e N e w L e a r n i n g , t h e N e w R e l i g i o n a n d t h e L a w . B y D e r m o t F e n l o n 185 T h e E l t o n i a n R e v o l u t i o n i n E a r l y T u d o r H i s t o r y . B y D a v i d K n o w l e s 867 X T h e A n c i e n R e g i m e a n d t h e R e v o l u t i o n . B y B e t t y B e h r e n s . . . 6 3 0 G r e e c e a n d E u r o p e , 150 Y e a r s A g o . B y C . W . C r a w l e y . . . . 196 P e e l , R u s s e l l a n d R e f o r m . B y D e r e k B e a l e s 8 7 3 O f M r B o o k e r T . W a s h i n g t o n a n d O t h e r s . B y J . R . P o l e . . . 8 8 3 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core CONTENTS PAGE f The Foreign Policy of a Democracy. By A. E. Campbell . . . -443 ^1922 and All That. By Peter Stead 201 Italian Fascism. By Roberto Vivarelli 644 OTHER REVIEWS Malcolm Anderson, Conservative Politics in France. By Tony Judt . 668 Michel Antoine, Le Conseil du Roi sous le Regne de Louis XV. By Betty Behrens 630 G. E. Aylmer (ed.), The Interregnum : The Quest for Settlement, 1646-1660. By Blair Worden 216 Gloria J. Barron, Leadership in Crisis. FDR and the Path to Inter- vention. By A. E. Campbell 443 ^(Sidney Bell, Righteous Conquest. Woodrow Wilson and the Evolu- tion of the New Diplomacy. By A. E. Campbell 443 Peter G. Bietenholz, Basle and France: the Basle humanists and printers in their contacts with Francophone culture. By Dermot Fenlon . . . 185 Georgiana Blakiston (ed.), Lord William Russell and his Wife, 1815— 1846. By Derek Beales 873 Lawrence P. Buck and Jonathan W. Zophy (eds.), The Social History of the Reformation. In honor of Harold J. Grimm. By Brian Pullan 209 Peter Burke, The Renaissance Sense of the Past. By Dermot Fenlon . 185 Charles Chatfield, For Peace and Justice. Pacifism in America, 1914- 1941. By A. E. Campbell 443 Claus-Peter Clasen, Anabaptism, a Social History, 1525-1618: Switzerland, Austria, Moravia, South and Central Germany. By Brian Pullan 209 Richard Clogg (ed.), The Struggle for Gree\ Independence : Essays to marl{ the 150th anniversary. By C. W . Crawley . . . . 196 <Maurice Cowling, The Impact of Labour 1920-1924. By Peter Stead 201 Douglas Dakin, The Gree\ Struggles for Independence, 1821-1833. By C. W . Crawley 196 H . C. Darby (ed.), A New Historical Geography of England. By D . J. Gregory 652 Yves Durand, Les Fermiers Generaux au Dix-huitieme Siecle. By Betty Behrens 630 Jean Egret, Louis XV et V Opposition Parlementaire. By Betty Behrens 630 G. R. Elton, Studies in Tudor and Stuart Politics and Government. Papers and Reviews 1946—1972. Vol I Tudor Politics. Tudor Government. Vol. II Parliament. Political Thought. By David Knowles 867 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core vi CONTENTS PAGE XMichael G. Fry, Illusions of Security. North Atlantic Diplomacy, 1918—22. By A. E . Campbell 443 Norman Gash, Sir Robert Peel: The Life of Sir Robert Peel after 1830. By Derek Beales 873 Pierre Gentil (ed.), Derniers Chefs d'un Empire. By Charles Henry Alexandrowicz 670 Pierre Goubert, L'Ancien Regime; vol. I, La Societe; vol. II, Les Pouvoirs. By Betty Behrens 630 / O t i s L. Graham, Jr., The Great Campaigns : Reform and War in America, 1900-1928. By A. E. Campbell 443 D . A. Hamer, Liberal Politics in the Age of Gladstone and Rosebery. By R. M. Taylor 221 Louis R. Harlan, Boo\er T. Washington. The Maying of a Blac\ Leader, 1856-1901. By J. R. Pole 883 Louis R. Harlan (ed.), The Boo\er T. Washington Papers. Vol I : The Autobiographical Writings. Vol I I : Papers 1860-1889. By J. R. Pole 883 y. P. E. Helmreich, From Paris to Sevres: the Partition of the Ottoman Empire at the Peace Conference of 1919-1920. By C. W. Crawley 895 Patricia Hollis (ed.), Pressure from Without in early Victorian England. By Derek Beales 873 Donald R. Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship: language, law, and history in the French Renaissance. By Dermot F e n l o n 1 8 5 " ^ M i c h a e l K i n n e a r , T h e F a l l of L l o y d G e o r g e . B y P e t e r S t e a d . . . 2 0 1 Michael A. Ledeen, Universal Fascism. The Theory and Practice of the Fascist International: 1928-1936. By Roberto Vivarelli . . 644 Brian P. Levack, The Civil Lawyers in England 1603-1641 : a political study. By G. R. Elton 213 K. B. McFarlane, The Nobility of Later Mediaeval England. By Jeremy Catto 655 Robert James Maddox, The New Left and the Origins of the Cold War. By A. E. Campbell 443 W. A. Maguire, The Downshire Estates in Ireland, 1801-1845: The Management of Irish Landed Estates in the Early Nineteenth Century. By Michael Hurst 894 Pauline Maier, From Resistance to Revolution : Colonial Radicals and the Development of American Opposition to Britain, iy6^-ijj6. B y J . R. Pole 218 W. W. Manross (ed.), S.P.G. Papers in the Lambeth Palace Library. By Owen Chadwick 662 Robert Manson Myers (ed.), The Children of Pride. A True Story of Georgia and the Civil War. By J. R. Pole 883 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core CONTENTS vii PAGE Peter Matheson, Cardinal Contarini at Regensburg. By Dermot Fenlon 185 H . C. G. Matthew, The Liberal Imperialists : The Ideas and Politics of a Post-Gladstonian Elite. By Michael Hurst 665 Jean Meyer, La Noblesse Bretonne au XVIIIiime Siecle. By Betty B e h r e n s . . . . 6 3 0 John Miller, Popery and Politics in England, 1660-1688. By J. C. H . Aveling 660 Milton Plesur, Americans Outward Thrust. Approaches to Foreign Affairs, 1865-1890. By A. E. Campbell 443 Douglas Porch, Army and Revolution. France 1815-1848. By Roger Price 663 John Prest, Lord John Russell. By Derek Beales 873 Conrad Russell (ed.), The Origins of the English Civil War. By G. R. Elton 213 William St Clair, That Greece might still be free. The Philhellenes in the War of Independence. By C. W . Crawley . . . . 196 Joel Samaha, Law and Order in Historical Perspective: The Case of Elizabethan Essex. By Keith Wrightson 656 Roland Sarti, Fascism and the Industrial Leadership in Italy, 1919- 1940. A Study in the Expansion of Private Power under Fascism. By Roberto Vivarelli 644 Robert Schwoebel (ed.), Renaissance Men and Ideas. By Dermot Fenlon 185 fG. R. Searle, The Quest for National Efficiency, 1899-1914. By Henry Pelling 223 Jean Sentou, Fortunes et Groupes Sociaux a Toulouse sous la Revolu- tion. By Betty Behrens 630 J. Shimizu, Conflicts of Loyalties : Politics and Religion in the Career of Gaspard de Coligny, Admiral of France, 1519-72. By Dermot Fenlon 185 Franco Simone, The French Renaissance: Medieval tradition and Italian influence in shaping the Renaissance in France. By Dermot Fenlon 185 Alan G. R. Smith (ed.), The Reign of James VI and I. By Derek Hirst 658 M. Llewellyn Smith, Ionian Vision: Greece in Asia Minor, 1919— 1922. By C. W. Crawley 895 ^Donald Southgate (ed.), The Conservative Leadership, 1832-1932. By Derek Beales 873 Gillian Sutherland (ed.), Studies in the growth of nineteenth-century government. By Derek Beales 873 Edward R. Tannenbaum, The Fascist Experience. Italian Society and Culture: 1922-1945. By Roberto Vivarelli 644 i(A. J. P. Taylor (ed.), Lloyd George : Twelve Essays. By Peter Stead . 201 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core viii CONTENTS PAGE J o s e p h S . T u l c h i n , The Aftermath of War. World War 1 and U.S. Policy Toward Latin America. B y A . E . C a m p b e l l . . . . 443 C . M . W o o d h o u s e , Capodistria : the Founder of Gree\ Independence. By C. W. Crawley 196 Myriam Yardeni, La Conscience Rationale en France pendant les g u e r r e s de r e l i g i o n ( / 5 5 9 - / 5 9 S ) . B y D e r m o t F e n l o n . . . 1 8 5 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core THE HISTORICAL JOURNAL VOL. XVII 1974 No. 1 CONTENTS ARTICLES: PAGE Slow Process, Due Process, and the High Court of Parliament: A Reinterpretation of the Revival of Judicature in the House of Lords in 1621. By J. Stoddart Flemion 3 The King's Scottish Revenues and the Covenanters, 1625—1651. By David Stevenson 17 Power and Authority in Seventeenth-Century England. By Richard Tuck 43 ' Cambridge Idealism ' : Utilitarian Revisionists in late Nineteenth- Century Cambridge. By C. J. Dewey 63 The French Colonial Party and French Colonial War Aims, 1914- 1918. By C. M. Andrew and A. S. Kanya-Forstner . . . . 79 Lloyd George and the 1918 Irish Conscription Crisis. By Alan J. Ward 107 The Foreign Office Reforms, 1919-1921. By Zara Steiner and M. L. Dockrill 131 C O M M U N I C A T I O N S : [ The Pitt-Temple Administration: 19-22 December 1783. By Paul Kelly 157 Liberal versus Liberal, 1874: A Rebuttal. By Michael Hurst . . 162 Some British Reactions to German Colonial Methods, 1885-1907. By Kenneth Mackenzie 165 Joseph Chailley-Bert and die Importance of the Union coloniale fratifaise. By Stuart M. Persell 176 REVIEW A R T I C L E S : The New Learning, the New Religion and the Law. By Dermot Fenlon 185 Greece and Europe, 150 Years Ago. By C. W . Crawley . . . 196 1922 and All That. By Peter Stead 201 H.].—I terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core CONTENTS OTHER REVIEWS: PAGE Claus-Peter Clasen, Anabaptism, a Social History, 1525—1618: Switzerland, Austria, Moravia, South and Central Germany; Lawrence P. Buck and Jonathan W. Zophy, The Social History of the Reformation. In honor of Harold f. Grimm. By Brian Pullan 209 Conrad Russell (ed.), The Origins of the English Civil War; Brian P. Levack, The Civil Lawyers in England 1603—1641 : a political study. By G. R. Elton 213 G. E. Aylmer (ed.), The Interregnum : The Quest for Settlement, 16^.6—1660, ' Problems in Focus ' series. By Blair Worden . . 216 Pauline Maier, From Resistance to Revolution : Colonial Radicals and the Development of American Opposition to Britain, iy6^—iyy6. By J. R. Pole 218 D. A. Hamer, Liberal Politics in the Age of Gladstone and Rosebery. By R. M. Taylor 221 G. R. Searle, The Quest for National Efficiency, 1899-1914. By Henry Pelling 223 Published by The Syndics of die Cambridge University Press Bentley House, 200 Euston Road, London N W i 2DB American Branch: 32 East 57th Street, New York, N.Y. 10022 © Cambridge University Press, 1974 P E R M I S S I O N S For permission to reproduce material from The Historical Journal, please apply to the London or New York office of Cambridge University Press. ISI Tear Service, 325 Chestnut Street, Philadelphia, Pennsylvania 19106, U.S.A. is authorized to supply single copies of separate articles for private use only. E D I T O R I A L N O T E The Historical Journal, like its predecessor The Cambridge Historical Journal. (1923-57), enjoys die support of die Cambridge Historical Society and is edited in Cambridge. All contributions, correspondence, and books for review should be addressed to T H E EDITOR, SIDNEY SUSSEX COLLEGE, CAMBRIDGE CB2 3HU. Printed in Great Britain by The Eastern Press Ltd. London and Reading terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X00005628 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_dmni7v72drbt5dhuksvsny7wpu	----	A Millennium of European State Formation REVIEW ESSAYS A Millennium of European State Formation SIEP STUURMAN TILLY, CHARLES. Coercion, Capital and European States, AD 990-1990. Basil Blackwell, Cambridge (MA) [etc.] 1990. xi, 269 pp. £25.00. Since Barrington Moore's Social Origins of Dictatorship and Democracy, few attempts have been made to explain the pattern of European state formation over the past thousand years in an equally grand and ambitious manner. Charles Tilly's account of European state formation belongs in the same rank with Moore's classic study. It is a brilliant, thought- provoking analysis, which is firmly grounded in historical research. Its geographical and temporal coverage of European political history is, if anything, even more impressive than Moore's Social Origins. Moreover, it displays all the geometrical elegance of well-proportioned architectural design. Tilly has devised a powerful and unequivocal theoretical frame- work in order to account for the general features and the main varieties of European state formation. Two types of historical interaction form the core of his model. The first type, the logic of coercion, involves using administration and violence to control human activities in a territo- rial setting. The second type is the logic of capital, which binds human activities in an economic framework by organizing exchange, markets, transport and credit. Tilly opens his comparative analysis of state formation with the clear- cut but far-reaching claim that the nature of a given state depends on the specific interplay between these two modes of interaction. Accord- ingly, he defines two basic, ideal-type trajectories of slate formation: the coercion-intensive path, in the European context usually a territorial princedom or monarchy, and the capital-intensive path, usually a city-state. In the course of European history, a third pattern emerged that combined elements from both ideal types. Tilly calls it capitalized coer- cion. It resulted in more efficient territorial states that incorporated cities and capital and used them productively, rather than simply exercis- ing control over them and milking their economies. Eventually, the third mode prevailed over the other two because it combined three elements, namely effective authority, a rich supply of capital, and a large popula- tion. The monarchies that were purely coercion-intensive incorporated authority and population, but lacked the necessary capital; the city-states International Review of Social History 40 (1995), pp. 425-441 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core 426 Siep Stuurman combined efficient governance and capital, but had an insufficient demo- graphic base. The historical victory of the third type, based on capitalized coercion, must be taken quite literally. Tilly considers warfare the driving force behind the entire process of state formation. In this international process, individual polities engaged in constant competition, which was primarily military, according to Tilly's adage: "The state made war, and war made the state." Tilly attributes the significance of economic competition between states to the rising cost of warfare, which rendered the military power of states increasingly dependent on their economic potential. Over the course of the thousand-year period, the number of indepen- dent political entities in Europe declined drastically, from over 1,000 around AD 900-1000 to about 30 in the twentieth century.1 This reduction in the number of states follows a Darwinist logic: a great variety of polities (feudal monarchies, city-states, federal empires, ecclesiastical territories) existed at the onset of the thousand-year period, but in the end only the polities based on capitalized coercion survived the race, eventually laying the groundwork for the nineteenth-century national states. This historical process typically involved trial and error, natural selection and survival of the fittest. n Tilly explains variations in the European pattern by incorporating items from the work of Barrington Moore and Stein Rokkan in his analysis. He uses Moore's distinction between labour-repressive and commercialized agriculture. Taxation in large agrarian regions with a poorly developed monetary economy was possible only through the coercion system, as peasants derived little benefit from the state and would surrender a share of their harvest only under duress. Extracting the agrarian surplus was generally the task of local rulers and other intermediaries who transferred a share to the sovereign. Most peasants were not free men, but rather serfs or bondsmen. Commercialized agriculture defined the relationship between farmers and local landowners in economic terms. Farmers were free men, and rent payments replaced political coercion. Furthermore, the convergence of trade on the market-places facilitated tax collection.2 In addition, farmers and other landowners had an interest in minimal enforcement 1 Tilly, Coercion, pp. 39-43; also see Mark Greengrass (ed.), Conquest and Coalescence. The Shaping of the State in Early Modern Europe (London, 1991), pp. 1-2. 2 Recently, however, it has been argued that the sophistication and the size of the tax-gathering organization are greater in the case of a highly developed market economy, see Thomas Ertman, "The Sinews of Power and European State-Building Theory", in Lawrence Stone (ed.), An Imperial State at War. Britain from 1689 to 1815 (London and New York, 1994), pp. 33-51, especially p. 38. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Millenium of European State Formation 427 of law and order, simply because trade was vulnerable. Their association with the sovereign's local officers began to resemble something like an antagonistic symbiosis. Moore's study virtually ignored the urban zones of Europe. Tilly bridges this gap with the geopolitical analysis of Stein Rokkan, a Norweg- ian political scientist who suggested dividing Europe into three zones: a western zone with mainly commercial agriculture and fairly numerous but geographically dispersed cities, a central area with numerous auto- nomous cities, regions of high urban density and commercial agriculture, and, finally, an eastern zone with few cities and agriculture that was primarily labour-repressive.3 While urban zones were well suited for regular taxation and debt finance, many cities were powerful enough to resist princely rule, or to impose stringent conditions on its operation. Larger territorial states did not emerge, or emerged very slowly, in the urbanized central area. The Dutch Republic and the Swiss Confederation remained federative polities in which the urban burghers retained considerable autonomy. The combined frameworks of Rokkan and Moore initially yield three patterns of state formation. The West contained territorial monarchies featuring a powerful Estates representation, and rather influential cities. The centre was characterized by city-states, federations, and small terri- torial principalities. Finally, the East consisted of territorial monarchies with influential Estates as well, but with widely dispersed cities possessing little autonomy. Tilly is particularly interested in the conditions for establishing strong monarchies. He states: "Big powerful national states formed chiefly at the edges of the urban column, where cities and capital were accessible but not overwhelming" (p. 133). This rationale applied to Britain, France, Prussia and Spain (p. 159). Especially the first three nations expanded their power in the long run. According to Tilly's perspective, Britain, France and Prussia were characterized by the early development of a territorial monarchy which facilitated control over the cities,4 subsequent reinforcement of the monarchy through taxation of an agricultural sector with a rising productivity ("capitalistic landlords with market outlets"), and resulting access to the European urban economy in the central zone without actually belonging to it. The counterparts of the winners in the struggle for survival were, of course, the losers. Of the three kinds of losers, two eventually disap- peared altogether. Between 1750 and 1850, almost all city-states were 3 Stein Rokkan, "Dimensions of State Formation and Nation-Building: A Possible Para- digm for Research on Variations Within Europe", in Charles Tilly (ed.), The Formation of National States in Western Europe (Princeton, 1975), especially pp. 575-591. 4 For an attempt to explain the geographic distribution of these proto-monarchies in Western Europe, see Michael Hechter and William Brustein, "Regional Modes of Produc- tion and Patterns of State Formation in Western Europe", American Journal of Sociology, 85 (1979-1980), pp. 1061-1094. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core 428 Siep Stuurman absorbed by larger national states. The federal states (the Dutch Republic and the Swiss Confederation) made the rather difficult transition to national unitary states during the same period. Finally, except for Russia, the multi-ethnic empires dissolved into national states in the course of the "long nineteenth century". The victory of unitary national states resulted from international com- petition rather than from some internal logic of state formation, and Tilly repeatedly emphasizes this conclusion. Two factors were responsible for this outcome. First, the absolute power of the unitary states became greater than that of their competitors. Second, warfare became more costly following the professionalization and expansion of the military forces (p. 190). Tilly considers the early modern era decisive for the consolidation of the European state system (p. 81). By the end of the eighteenth century, the supremacy of the capitalized-coercion model was essentially a fait accompli. In the era of the French Revolution and more generally throughout the transition period from 1750 to 1850, this type of state successfully accomplished the transition from indirect rule to direct rule. Government through regional and local intermediaries was replaced by direct intervention of the national administrative elites in local communi- ties, households and enterprises. By and large, bureaucracy replaced patronage, and burghers and professionals supplanted aristocrats and prelates (pp. 103ff.). The subsequent administrative modernization, facil- itated by new means of communication and surveillance, further strengthened this type of state, which prevailed throughout Europe and North America during the nineteenth century. In the twentieth century, the global range of the European powers promoted its world-wide expansion through colonial state-building or as a result of confrontation and imitation. Finally, Tilly also attributes the development of representative institu- tions to the consequences of warfare. Wars required a major mobilization of resources: money, equipment and manpower. The princes, or more generally the state elites, were forced to bargain with their more powerful subjects to obtain these resources. They could achieve their objective only through threats, co-optation, or exchanges of services and money. The rising cost of warfare increased the pressure on rulers to bargain with their subjects. Therein lie the origins of representative institutions (p. 188). m Tilly's approach is deliberately comparative and must be judged accord- ingly. The title of his book conveys both the geographic and the chronolo- gical range of this comparison: Europe during the second millennium of the Christian era. Thus, Tilly's theory should explain three things: (1) the major variations in forms of states; (2) the spatial distribution https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Millenium of European State Formation 429 of these variations; and (3) the chronological pattern of these variations. At this juncture, we can opt for either a strong or a weak formulation of Tilly's theory. According to the strong formulation, the demands of warfare in conjunction with the capital-coercion ratio provide a necessary and sufficient explanation of the major variations between types of states. The weak formulation holds that the requirements of warfare in conjunction with the capital-coercion ratio are necessary but not sufficient for explaining these variations. I shall argue that the weak formulation can be sustained but that the strong one cannot. I would like my critique to be understood as a constructive contribution to an ongoing debate. To make this clear, I will start with pointing out what I see as the three chief strengths of Tilly's analysis. First, there is his non-finalist view of the temporal pattern of state formation. He is surely right to shun the country-by-country approach that assumes each country to proceed through the same stages.5 This method can easily lead to an anachronistic and teleological historical interpretation pro- jecting political units from the nineteenth and twentieth centuries back into the Middle Ages. Tilly, on the contrary, stresses the need to explain the transition from the heterogeneous and dispersed political structure of medieval Europe to the fairly homogeneous large-scale network of states of the past century and a half.6 Tilly's scheme thus allows for contingencies. As modern states are not based on any pre-existing general logic, several options competed for priority within an international system of states. The victory of the territorial unitary state resulted solely from a concrete historical process. The superior military prowess of such states was indeed largely respon- sible for this outcome, as Tilly's theory leads us to expect. His second strong point is the explanation of state formation in terms of the combined action of geopolitical and socio-economic forces, with the triad of armament, credit and taxation as the core of the process of state formation. Such a perspective permits an approximate periodization according to the successive "military revolutions" on the one hand and economic development and social structure on the other jiand. This kind of theory is clearly superior to theories accommodating endogenous factors only, such as class and bureaucratization theories. The explana- tion for the global-geographic pattern of early modern state formation, which combines Tilly's own war theory with elements from schemes by Moore and Rokkan, is largely convincing.7 5 To see how such a model succumbed when confronted with historical issues and histo- rians, see Raymond Grew (ed.), Crises of Political Development in Europe and the United States (Princeton, 1978). 6 See Charles Tilly, "Cities and States in Europe, 1000-1800", Theory and Society, 18 (1989), p. 563. 7 Tilly's approach shows some similarities with Immanuel Wallerstein's analysis of the world system, but lacks its economic determinism; see Aristide Zolberg's critique of Wallerstein: "Origins of the Modern World System. A Missing Link", World Politics, 23 (1980-1981), pp. 253-281. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core 430 Step Stuurman A third strong point is Tilly's theorization of state formation as a process of negotiation. As a consequence, it encompasses the top down and bottom up logics and does not conform to any preconceived plan of an all-powerful elite. This principle is perfectly compatible with Tilly's previous work in which he asserted that no a priori difference exists between legitimate and illegitimate violence, and that order can emanate from the top as well as from the bottom.8 It is striking, however, that the elitist perspective is more dominant in Coercion, Capital and Euro- pean States than in Tilly's own earlier work. IV Tilly's view of state formation is, however, less convincing when it comes to explaining the emergence of representative institutions. The difference between states with and states without powerful representative institu- tions is one of the major variations in the development of European states. All theories of state formation try to explain this distinction, which is actually the crucial focus of Moore's work. True to his central hypothesis, Tilly bases his explanation on the demands of warfare. He asserts: The more expensive and demanding war became, the more they (the state elites) had to bargain for its wherewithal. The bargaining produced or fortified representative institutions [. . .] and eventually national legislatures, (p. 188) This explanation implies that an increasing war effort enhanced the development of representative institutions. The history of France and Prussia, however, suggests the contrary. Tilly probably sensed this prob- lem, as the sentence quoted above is followed by a somewhat cryptic formulation: Bargaining ranged from co-optation with privilege to massive armed repression, but it left behind compacts between sovereigns and subjects, (p. 188) Such an interpretation of the concept of negotiation, however, empties it of all meaning, and thus eliminates the unambiguous relationship between negotiation and the growth of representative institutions. It also remains unclear why (and if) massive armed repression always leads to compacts between sovereigns and subjects. In the following sentence, Tilly explains that these agreements sometimes arose after a very long time indeed (italics added): Although rulers of states such as France and Prussia managed to circumvent most of the old representative institutions for several centuries, those representative institutions or their successors eventually acquired more power vis-a-vis the crown 8 Charles Tilly, Big Structures, Large Processes, Huge Comparisons (New York, 1984), pp. 53-59. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Millenium of European State Formation 431 as regular taxation, credit, and payment for the national debt became essential to the continued production of armed force, (p. 188) Here, Tilly attempts to cover England, France and Prussia (Germany) with one model. In my opinion, however, his theory fails to come to terms with either of the three cases. In France, tremendous military efforts weakened representative institutions in the seventeenth century.9 Looking at the subsequent evolution of the French monarchy, we might invoke Tilly's theory as a partial explanation of the eventual collapse of absolutism in the second half of the eighteenth century, for the political crisis of 1787-1789 can be attributed in part to the financial consequences of French intervention in the American War of Independence. The recent study of the French Revolution by Bailey Stone, which combines a geopolitical approach with a fine-tuned analysis of the political culture of the Ancien Regime, demonstrates, however, that the salience of war-related financial stress can only be fully understood within the context of the political culture and the ideological setting of French society.10 In Prussia, the state's military expansion laid the groundwork for the emergence of absolutism in the second half of the seventeenth century, and military policy impeded the parliamentarization of the country in the nineteenth century as well, especially in the crucial Konfliktzeit of 1861-1866." In the component parts of the Habsburg monarchy, the military efforts of the Thirty Years War likewise acceler- ated the drive towards absolutism.12 In the subsequent history of Prussia/ Germany and Habsburg Austria, Tilly's approach is clearly insufficient, for these states were never parliamentarized by endogenous forces: the military pressure on the Prussian/German state prevented or frustrated (Weimar) parliamentarization again and again, until it was definitively imposed by external forces in 1945 following defeat in two world wars. The trajectory of the Austrian state was roughly similar. Finally, Tilly's explanation does not fit the English case, the most important example of successful parliamentarization. During the first stage of this process, the consolidation of parliamentary authority in the century and a half after Magna Carta, the war effort <was but one of the factors that led to the strengthening of parliamentary rule; the administration of justice, issues of feudal law and ecclesiastical politics were at least equally important.13 Religious matters played an autono- 9 See David Parker, The Making of French Absolutism (London, 1983), pp. 59ff. 10 Bailey Stone, The Genesis of the French Revolution: A Global-Historical Interpretation (Cambridge, 1994). 11 Francis L. Carsten, Geschichte der Preussischen Junker (Frankfurt/M., 1988), pp. 3 5 - 44; Wolfram Siemann, Gesellschaft im Aufbruch. Deutschland 1849-1871 (Frankfurt/M., 1990), pp. 200-231; James J. Sheehan, Der Deutsche Liberalismus, 1770-1914 (Munich, 1983), pp. 135ff. 12 See Robert A. Kann, A History of the Habsburg Empire, 1526-1918 (Berkeley, 1980). u G.O. Sayles, Tfte Medieval Foundations of England (London, 1948), pp. 399ff. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core 432 Siep Stuurman mous rule in the making of the 1640 Revolution as well. Between 1640 and 1688, the second crucial stage in the parliamentarization of the British government, external war was only of marginal importance (Scottish and Irish affairs were relevant, but they do not fit neatly into Tilly's model).14 Rather than a military revolution, the absence of a standing army due to the island kingdom's protected status was an important precondition for the victory of the parliamentary party in the seventeenth century.15 After 1688, further parliamentarization can certainly not be attributed to the increasing military effort in the wars against France. It was the other way around: the parliamentary monarchy fortified and employed the military power of the state for the furtherance of its own strategic goals.16 England, France, Austria and Prussia, however, were not the only states possessing representative institutions in the pre-seventeenth- century period. In a recent comparative study of the political effects of the military revolution, Brian Downing has argued that, as a general rule, strong mobilization of military resources is more conducive to absolutism than to constitutionalism.17 Historically, throughout Europe the emergence of representative institutions preceded the military revolu- tions of the sixteenth, seventeenth and eighteenth centuries submitted by Tilly as an explanation. All over Europe, the legal practices and the political rituals and beliefs subsumed in the concept of representation came under severe pressure during the period 1500-1800. In so far as they survived, it was in spite of the military revolutions and not because of them. Contrary to the course suggested by Tilly's theory, representa- tive institutions generally grew weaker during the seventeenth and eight- eenth centuries. The Netherlands and England were the major excep- tions. A new historical wave of parliamentarization began only with the American and French Revolutions. Tilly's war model does not explain the historical origins of the repre- sentative system in Europe. Representative institutions were a medieval phenomenon that was closely related to the gradual emergence of larger political units from the political fragmentation that peaked in the eleventh century.18 While military issues were a factor, the inner logical of feudal law, economic politics, and religious affairs also came into play. Joseph 14 Lawrence Stone, The Causes of the English Revolution, 1529-1642 (London, 1977), pp. 116ff. 15 Stone, Causes, p. 116; Keith Thomas, "The United Kingdom", in Grew, Crises of Political Development, p. 93. 16 Brian M. Downing, The Military Revolution and Political Change. Origins of Democracy and Autocracy in Early Modern Europe (Princeton, 1992), pp. 183-186. 17 Ibid., p. 242. John Breuilly reaches a similar conclusion in Labour and Liberalism in Nineteenth-century Europe. Essays in Comparative History (Manchester, 1992), pp. 289- 293. 18 Joseph R. Strayer, Feudalism (Princeton, 1965), pp. 38-41; recently, and in the same vein: T.N. Bisson, "The 'Feudal Revolution'", Past and Present, 142 (1994), pp. 6-42. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Millenium of European State Formation 433 Strayer claimed that the Supreme Court and the Treasury formed the two corner-stones of state formation in the twelfth century, when extended warfare far exceeded the capabilities of contemporary states.19 Medieval Europe operated according to a federal logic: anything not explicitly assigned to a higher authority pertained to the jurisdiction of local authorities. To build their proto-states, sovereigns had to establish a modus vivendi with regional and local powers. The logic of shared power was a direct consequence of this type of state formation.20 Further- more, sovereigns ruling larger regions encountered a variety of legal traditions, which they were expected to uphold in their respective territo- ries: the result was usually a "composite monarchy" which was non- absolute almost by definition.21 Tilly's underestimation of the legacy of the medieval Estates monarchy is closely linked to a crucial feature of his theory of state formation. His approach defines the state as a financial and military apparatus and views state formation as the struggle of rulers to achieve a territorial monopoly of taxation and violence. Max Weber's classical definition, however, refers to the monopoly of legitimate violence. The modifier is not incidental: legitimacy refers to legal procedures and political ideolo- gies as essential factors in state formation. Tilly pays little attention to the legal aspects of state formation. Nevertheless, the legal institutions and the political culture of feudalism, itself a highly heterogenous phenomenon that had undergone sedimenta- tion over the centuries, were essential for establishing the practice of representation and the ideology of rights and privileges that has been so significant in the course of the ulterior development of European states. The parcellized sovereignty of medieval Europe also allowed the cities to enjoy relative autonomy, and the rights of cities became an integral feature in the Estates monarchy's juridical mosaic from the M l 19 Joseph R. Strayer, On the Medieval Origins of the Modem State (Princeton, 1970), pp. 26-28. * Wlra P. Blockmans stresses this point in "A Typology of Representative Institutions in Late Medieval Europe", Journal of Medieval History, 4 (1978), pp. 192-193, 196-197; Tilly, Coercion, p. 64, also refers to this article, but only with respect to urban zones. Blockmans, however, discusses a mechanism that operated throughout Europe and investi- gates internal variations. He also notes somewhat emphatically that issues of war finance were not the main impetus behind the expansion of representative institutions (p. 202); see also Blockmans, "Voracious States and Obstructing Cities. An Aspect of State Formation in Preindustrial Europe", Theory and Society, 18 (1989), pp. 733-755, especially p. 740. 21 See H.G. Koenisberger, "Composite States, Representative Institutions and the Amer- ican Revolution", Historical Research, 148 (1989), pp. 136-138; J.H. Elliott, "A Europe of Composite Monarchies", Past and Present, 137 (1992), pp. 48-71. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core 434 Step Stuurman tenth to the fourteenth centuries.22 Legal practices and theories possessed an independent autonomous logic. Jurists (who were steeped in these traditions) predominated in the chanceries of the princes, the bishoprics and the governing bodies of the cities: homo politicus, hoc est, juriscon- sultus, as Francois Baudouin, a sixteenth-century French legal scholar, put it.23 While jurists substantially reinforced governmental power, their concern for traditional status, precedents and correct procedures simul- taneously acted as a brake on the rise of unlimited ("tyrannical") princely power. The political culture of fealty, honour and heroism among the nobility had a similar effect.24 Political practice and political culture in European feudalism, in which the cities participated in their own manner, thus included several features conducive to the establishment of a limited monarchy, such as corporative immunities and privileges, and the concept of reciprocal contracts between lords and vassals.25 Moreover, most medieval political theorists endorsed doctrines which authorized resistance against rulers who vio- lated established rights; a right most frequently ascribed to lower public authorities, notably the Estates. These ideas were later taken up and reworked by the spokesmen of the Protestant Reformation.26 Further- more, contemporary political theories were imbued with two philoso- phical traditions that rejected unrestricted sovereignty: Stoic-Christian natural law and Aristotelian republicanism.27 Influential legal scholars 22 Cf. Perry Anderson's remarks in Lineages of the Absolutist State (London, 1974), p. 410; also see Peter Burke's more reserved conclusions in "City-States", in John A. Hall (ed.), States in History (Oxford, 1989), pp. 149-153; see also the contributions in Charles Tilly and Wim P. Blockmans (eds), Cities and the Rise of States in Europe (Boulder, 1994), especially the differences between Tilly's introduction and Blockmans' concluding essay. 23 Quoted in Donald R. Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship. Language, Law, and History in the French Renaissance (New York and London, 1970), p. 127. 24 On the latter subject, see Mousnier's detailed analysis of the operation of formal institutions of French absolutism: Roland E. Mousnier, The Institutions of France under the Absolute Monarchy, 1598-1789 (Chicago and London, 1979), especially pp. 645ff. 25 See F.L. Ganshof, Frankish Institutions under Charlemagne (New York, 1970), pp. 50- 53, on the origins of vassalic contracts; Moore, Social Origins, p. 415, correctly notes the importance of these feudal practices, but fails to integrate this observation into his socio-economic model; Anderson, Lineages of the Absolutist State, pp. 414, 435-461, compares European and Japanese feudalism and observes that the contractual aspect was less advanced in Japan. The point was first made by Marc Bloch, La Sociiti Fiodale (Paris, 1968; 1st pub. 1939), p. 611. 26 This doctrine was not specifically "Calvinist", as is sometimes alleged, see Quentin Skinner, The Foundations of Modern Political Thought (Cambridge, 1979), vol. II, p. 321; Cynthia G. Shoenberger, "Luther and the Justifiability of Resistance to Legitimate Authority", Journal of the History of Ideas, 40 (1979), pp. 3-20; Heinz Scheible, Das Widerstandsrecht als Problem der deutschen Protestanten, 1523-1546 (GOtersloh, 1969). 27 See Quentin Skinner, Foundations, passim; J.G.A. Pocock, The Machiavellian Moment. Florentine Political Thought and the Atlantic Republican Tradition (Princeton, 1975). Both authors show that the modern concepts of state and sovereignty emerged from political https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Millenium of European State Formation 435 and councillors of monarchs embraced the concept of dominium politicum et regale or monarchie politique, as well as the conviction that the "ancient constitution" or the loix fondamentales ought to be respected by a lawful and honest ruler.28 By the sixteenth century this non-absolutist political culture had become a political force in its own right which cannot be reduced to a simple "rationalization" of power politics. In a number of cases, the drive towards absolutism was twarthed or slowed by religious conflicts as well. In Britain and the Netherlands, in France before the age of Louis XIV and, to a somewhat lesser extent, the Austrian lands prior to the late seventeenth century, representative institutions derived a part of their strength from the inability of sover- eigns to enforce religious homogeneity in nations where the reformation had led to a de facto religious pluralism. Tilly's book scarcely discusses the Protestant Reformation, the fragmentation of Latin Christianity and the ensuing nationalization of religious politics because these develop- ments do not fit in his war model. This is a striking omission in a comparative analysis of state formation in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries.29 Furthermore, the impact of religious dissent on state formation involves a methodological issue. Let us view the French example from this angle. According to Tilly's model, the enormous military efforts of the French monarchy under Louis XIV were supposed to reinforce representative institutions. As we know, the result was the contrary. This outcome was due to several factors, including the political culture and the collective mentality of the government elite. The king and his most important ministers sincerely believed in the necessity of imposing religious homogeneity for establishing a strong state, and consistently acted on this assumption.30 In retrospect, their conviction proved incor- rect: the repression of the Huguenots, which culminated in the revocation discourses in which restricted sovereignty, active citizenship, and the right to resist tyran- nical rulers were firmly e m b e d d e d . 28 See J . G . A . Pocock, The Ancient Constitution and the Feudal Law^ (Cambridge, 1987; 1st p u b . 1957); Nannerl K e o h a n e , Philosophy and the State in France: the Renaissance to the Enlightenment (Princeton, 1980), ch. 1; Martyn P . T h o m p s o n , " T h e History of Funda- mental L a w in Political Thought from the French Wars of Religion to t h e American R e v o l u t i o n " , American Historical Review, 91 (1986), p p . 1103-1128; Michael H u g h e s , "Fiat Justitia, p e r e a t G e r m a n i a ? T h e Imperial Supreme Jurisdiction and Imperial Reform in t h e L a t e r Holy R o m a n E m p i r e " , in J o h n Breuilly ( e d . ) , The State of Germany (London and N e w Y o r k , 1992), p p . 29-46. 29 This observation also applies in the cases of t h e impact on t h e process of state formation of o t h e r major transformations in political culture and t h e social patterns of communication, such as t h e Enlightenment and nineteenth-century social democracy. F o r an ambitious attempt in that direction, see R o b e r t W u t h n o w , Communities of Discourse. Ideology and Social Structure in the Reformation, the Enlightenment, and European Socialism (Cambridge, M a s s . , 1989). 30 Janine Garrisson, L'Edit de Nantes et sa Revocation (Paris, 1985), pp. 184ff.; Elizabeth Labrousse, La Revocation de I'Edit de Nantes (Paris, 1990; 1st pub. 1985), pp. 92-95. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core 436 Siep Stuurman of the Edict of Nantes, actually weakened (rather than strengthened) the French state. A policy of tolerance, combined with the co-optation of the wealthy and able Calvinist bourgeoisie in the process of state formation, would probably have been more successful. The French case only illustrates a general aspect of state formation in the post- Reformation period. The attempt to impose religious uniformity was part and parcel of the political project of absolutism, and absolutist politics therewith created an emotionally charged ideological division that fused otherwise disparate oppositional groups. The failure of absolu- tism in sixteenth-century Holland and seventeenth-century Britain can hardly be explained without taking such processes of fusion of religious and political cleavages into account. In eighteenth-century France, the growing gap between the pretence of a "catholic monarchy" and the reality of Enlightenment culture and religious controversy was one of the elements that went into the making of the final crisis of the absolutist state.31 In my opinion, Tilly's rational-actor model, in which capitalistic interests and military strategy are the sole motives, is unable to explain this aspect of state formation. VI Remarkably, Tilly has not related his work to the recent historiography on political culture and political theory. In the main, the newer histori- ography emphasizes the autonomous historical effectiveness of rituals, procedures, memories, discourses and manners of speech.32 While many interesting differences of opinion exist concerning the relationship of language and culture to power, class and money, very few historians will maintain that language and culture are only instrumentally deployed in struggles that are "essentially" about military violence and economic power. Tilly's view of human motivation comes close to a modernized version of the famous homo economicus: the homo economico-militaris Tilliensis. 31 Jeffrey W. Merrick, The Desacralization of the French Monarchy in the Eighteenth Century (Baton R o u g e , 1990). 32 See for example Keith Michael Baker, Inventing the French Revolution (Cambridge, 1990); William H . Sewell Jr, Work and Revolution in France. The Language of Labor from the Old Regime to 1848 (Cambridge, 1980); E . P . Thompson, Customs in Common (London, 1991); Roger Chartier, Les origines culturelles de la Revolution francaise (Paris, 1990); J . G . A . Pocock, "The Concept of a Language and the mitier d'historien: Some Considerations on Practice", in Anthony Pagden ( e d . ) . The Languages of Political Theory in Early-Modem Europe (Cambridge, 1987), p p . 19-38; Quentin Skinner, "Language and Political Change", in Terence Ball, James Farr and Russell L . Hanson ( e d s ) , Political Innovation and Conceptual Change (Cambridge, 1989), pp. 6 - 2 3 ; John E . T o e w s , "Intellec- tual History after the Linguistic Turn: The Autonomy of Meaning and the Irreducibility of Experience", American Historical Review, 92 (1987), pp. 679-907; Gareth Stedman Jones, Languages of Class. Studies in English Working Class History, 1832-1982 (Cambridge, 1983). https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Millenium of European State Formation 437 His argument has no use for the entire political culture of early modern Europe. It is therefore hardly surprising that his analysis of the transition from the politics of the Ancien Regime to the political culture of the nineteenth century does not acknowledge the dramatic rupture in the entire conception of politics brought about by the French Revolution and its aftermath. In the same vein, Tilly views the transition during the Napoleonic era from indirect to direct rule as a fundamental rift in the process of state formation, but fails to note that this innovation from above coincided with an equally important development from below, namely the replacement of traditional corporations by citoyens, of class assemblies by national parliaments, and of the old political discourse by the new language of human and civil rights. This oversight is especially surprising in the light of Tilly's previous, pathbreaking work on the emergence of new modes of collective action (repertoires in his terminology) in the very period to which I have just referred.33 Paradoxically, the discussion of the nineteenth century state in Tilly's book is extremely condensed. He observes, of course, that the nineteenth century is the heyday of the national state. Tilly views nationalism as the product of the revolutionary and Napoleonic wars combined with direct rule and the increase in administrative homogenization of the population that became possible as a result. Wars alone, however, do not account for nationalism; wars had been waged for centuries. Nor does homogenization through direct rule provide an adequate explanation, as nationalism historically preceded the effective homogenization policies of the later nineteenth century. While cultural homogenization exerted decisive influence on the successful consolidation of nation-states, this success story assumes that the national ideal was already effective as a political force.34 While Tilly's observation that direct rule and nationalism subsequently reinforced one another is unexceptionable, nationalism as such remains a contingent circumstance within the historical framework he puts for- ward. A satisfactory explanation for the force of nineteenth-century 4'« 33 See William Sewell Jr's criticism of Tilly in "Collective Violence and Collective Loyalties in France: Why the French Revolution Made a Difference", Politics and Society, 18 (1990), pp. 527-552; Sidney Tarrow's response in "Modular Collective Action and the Rise of the Social Movement: Why the French Revolution Was Not Enough", Politics and Society, 21 (1993), pp. 69-90; also see Francois Furet, Interpreting the French Revolution (Cambridge, 1981), pp. 22, 79. 34 Tilly's analysis presents the same problem as Ernest Gellner's Nations and Nationalism (Oxford, 1983), which relates national identity to the "need" for homogenization of industrial society, i.e. to a sociological issue that became fully manifest only after the rise of nationalism. I prefer the historical explanation in William H. McNeill, Poly-ethnicity and National Unity in World History (Toronto, 1986), pp. 36ff.; see also the perceptive comments by John A . Hall, "Nationalisms, Classified and Explained", in idem (ed.), Coercion and Consent. Studies on the Modern State (Cambridge, 1994), pp. 124-148, especially 127-131. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core 438 Siep Stuurman nationalism must consider the new model of political action introduced during the French Revolution that inaugurated and made possible the launching of a new method of warfare (the levte en masse, the ideology of la patrie en danger).35 The destruction of the symbolism of the society of Estates in a gigantic European auto da fe ushered in the new political imagery of the nation. Nineteenth-century nationalism differed from earlier forms of national sentiment and patriotism in its linkage with the new doctrine of popular sovereignty. Previously, the people harboured nationalistic sentiments; now, the people were the nation.36 The old ideal of religious homogeneity definitively faded into the background, as the nation itself was sacralized. It would be difficult to overestimate the significance of this type of political culture for a comparative analysis of state formation. For example, consider the differences between France, Germany and England during the nineteenth and twentieth centuries. The considerations above provide the framework necessary for compre- hending the successful rise of representative democracy during the nine- teenth and twentieth centuries. A direct link with the necessities of warfare appears highly unlikely in this case: after 1860-1880, the share of war expenditure in government finance began to decline for the first time in history, and, coincidentally, spending for civilian purposes started its gradual ascent that continues to this day.37 Once again, the example of Prussia (Germany) provides a useful counterpoint. More than else- where in Europe, nineteenth-century state formation in Prussia was ruled by a war logic (1864, 1866, 1871), but it was precisely this circumstance that impeded effective parliamentarization. In my opinion, the key to a comparative analysis of state formation in the nineteenth century lies elsewhere. Tilly correctly emphasizes that the transition to direct rule reinforced the government's power in administrative and disciplinary respects.38 He pays insufficient attention, however, to the parallel strengthening of civil society. Tilly notes that government bureaucracies developed their own esprit de corps and organ- izational power in the period of direct rule and thus became formidable agents in the political order (p. 117). But he does not discuss the analogous development in civil society: in the period 1750-1850 the society of Estates, with its emphasis on orders and ranks, and on local 35 S e e D o w n i n g , Military Revolution, p . 2 5 3 . 36 Modern nationalism is inextricably linked with the idea of civil equality: nations are homogeneous and do not tolerate privileged classes. See Eric J. Hobsbawm, Nations and Nationalism since 1780 (Cambridge, 1990), pp. 18ff.; this principle holds true for the "political nation" that dominated in Western Europe; the Central and East European Kultumation was less egalitarian, see Peter Alter, Nationalism (London, 1989), pp. 14ff. 37 Michael Mann, The Sources of Social Power. Vol. II: Tlte Rise of Classes and Nation- states, 1760-1914 (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 373, 393. 38 Foucault's surveillance, Tocqueville's pouvoir tutilaire. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Millenium of European State Formation 439 and regional particularism, was transformed into a society that featured national organizations of countless interest groups. Throughout Europe, associations flourished with the arrival of the modern periodic press during the second half of the eighteenth century. Societies of artisans also expanded their activities dramatically in this period. Recent histori- ography generally places the formation of public opinion as an autono- mous political force in the second half of the eighteenth century as well.39 Two social groups forced their way into politics after 1750: (1) the broad stratum of the burghers (all those who were not part of the wealthy patrician upper crust) and (2) the artisans. The American histo- rian Robert Palmer has called this period the age of the democratic revolution, a characterization that still stands today.40 Palmer's demo- cratic age begins with the Wilkite agitation in Britain, the American Revolution, the movement of the Patriots in the Dutch Republic and the French Revolution, and concludes with the European wave of revolu- tions in 1848.41 During these decades, the operation of the general political structure changed drastically. The aristocratic-patrician political order, in which the populace figured only as a source of temporary disorder, was supplanted by a "populist" politics which conceived of the state in terms of the dialectic of the people and the nation. By his earlier work, Tilly himself has enormously enhanced our understanding of this transition. His book about the development of collective action in France characterizes political action as "parochial and patronized" in the period 1650-1850 and as "national and autonomous" after 1850.42 Surprisingly, both this element and the democratic aspects of nationalism are scarcely taken into account in Tilly's analysis of European state formation. In the book under review, the impact of nineteenth-century mass politics as an agent in state formation "from below" is hardly discussed. These processes are crucial, however, to any comparative analysis of state formation in Europe after the French Revolution. Tilly's book deals only briefly with the nineteenth century and he does not relate his analysis of early modern state formation to the comparative research on the democratization of states in the period 1848-1940.43 39 See t h e survey of t h e recent literature in Margaret C . J a c o b , " T h e Mental Landscape of the Public S p h e r e : A E u r o p e a n Perspective", Eighteenth-Century Studies, 28 (1994), p p . 9 5 - 1 1 3 . 40 R . R . Palmer, The Age of the Democratic Revolution, 2 vols (Princeton, 1959). 41 In b e t w e e n , a smaller wave of revolutions occurred in 1830, see Clive H . C h u r c h , Europe in 1830 ( L o n d o n , 1983). 42 C h a r l e s T i l l y , 77ic Contentious French. Four Centuries of Popular Struggle ( C a m b r i d g e , M a s s . , 1 9 8 6 ) , p p . 3 9 2 - 3 9 3 . 43 For example, see Gregory M. Luebbert, Liberalism, Fascism or Social Democracy. Social Classes and the Political Origins of Regimes in Interwar Europe (Oxford, 1991); Ira Katznelson and Aristide R. Zolberg (eds), Working-Class Formation. Nineteenth- Century Patterns in Western Europe and the United States (Princeton, 1986); John Breuilly, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core 440 Step Stuurman Tilly's comparative analysis of state formation effectively ends at the close of the eighteenth century. The book concludes with a chapter on military coups and regimes all over the world around 1990. While this section is extremely stimulating and important in its own right, its connection to the original research question, which focused on variations within Europe, is tenuous indeed. VII Tilly's Coercion, Capital and European States is a brilliant accomplish- ment, notwithstanding its shortcomings. To construct a comparative model of state formation in Europe over such an extended period is a daunting task indeed. Tilly's explicit intention was to explain the long- term development of the European state system, from 1000 to 2000 (or from 990 to 1990, as indicated by the book's title). The book's compara- tive analysis, however, primarily deals with the early modern period. It is here that the war-model of state formation works best. In the case of the "feudal" era of 1000-1400, the internal dynamic of the emergent proto-states sits somewhat uneasily with a framework that focuses on external war, as Tilly himself acknowledges (p. 181). In the nineteenth and twentieth centuries the non-military activities of European states have overtaken the military effort both in terms of expenditure and manpower. A war-related theory of state formation is clearly unsuited to undertake a comparative study of the expansion of the civilian state. I have, however, attempted to show that, while Tilly's analysis goes a long way to account for the pattern of European state formation in the early modern period, even in this case it fails to cover several essential differences between the major European states. Furthermore, the gaps in the comparative analysis are directly related to the theoretical model Tilly proposes, notably to its neglect of the legal aspects of state forma- tion, to the political salience of religion, and, more generally, political culture and discourse. In the final analysis, the reductionist aspects of Tilly's theoretical explanation must be attributed to the rational-actor model. Although money and power are important, indeed extremely important, it would be a mistake to think that history is solely about the interplay of these two forces.44 Thus, the challenge of a comparative analysis for the entire process of European state formation, from the dissolution of the Carolingian Labour and Liberalism in Nineteenth Century Europe (Manchester, 1992); JUrgen Kocka (ed.), Biirgertum im 19. Jahrhundert. Deutschland im Europtiischen Vergleich, 3 vols (Munich, 1988). I have discussed this issue in more detail in Siep Stuurman, "Liberalism, Labour and State-Formation in Nineteenth-Century Europe," International Review of Social History, 39 (1993), pp. 77-84. 44 See the critiques of the self-interest paradigm in Jane J. Mansbridge (ed.), Beyond Self-Interest (Chicago and London, 1990). https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core A Millenium of European State Formation 441 empire to the present day, still lies before us. One conclusion can, however, be stated with some confidence: Tilly's Coercion, Capital and European States is definitely indispensable reading for anyone seeking to answer that challenge. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0020859000113410 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_drbrutqilzh2peb37hn7ruwtwm	----	No Job Name Reading Philippe Desportes in Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie Gabriella Scarlatta Eschrich The Renaissance poet Philippe Desportes (1546–1606) was considerably appreciated and admired during his lifetime.1 In 1573, while the poet was leaving France for Poland in order to follow the Duke of Anjou (1551–89), who was the newly crowned King of Poland and future Henri III of France, his Premières Œuvres was published in Paris.2 From that year on, a new edition of his poems would be published almost every year until 1602, with a total of thirty-three editions in thirty years. His poetry, esteemed for its lyric and clear qualities, met with great success and fulfilled the expectations of his readers, patrons and fellow writers. Desportes succeeded Pierre de Ronsard as the court poet of Henri III and he became the secretary of the king’s chancellery. He was a favourite member of the salon of the Maréchale de Retz and an active participant in the Palace Academy of Henri III. These two institutions per- formed cultural, intellectual and social roles of great importance at the end of the sixteenth century, and they shaped and contributed to Desportes’ writing and success.3 As the favourite poet of Henri III, he wrote to order and tried to respond to the demands and tastes of his public. Just before his death, Desportes became the tutor of Henri IV’s son, the future Louis XIII. His 1 Two important studies dedicated to Desportes and his writings have recently been published: Bruno Petey-Girard and François Rouget (eds.), Philippe Desportes. Poète profane, poète sacré. Actes du Colloque interna- tional de Chartres (14–16 septembre 2006) (Paris: Champion, 2008), and Jean Balsamo (ed.), Philippe Desportes (1546–1606). Un poète presque parfait entre Renaissance et Classicisme (Paris: Klincksieck, 2000). For an extensive biography, see Jacques Lavaud, Un Poète de cour au temps des derniers Valois. Philippe Desportes (Paris: Droz, 1936). My deep gratitude goes to my two colleagues Stéphane Spoiden and Jackie Vansant, as well as to the anonymous, patient reader for their indispensable comments and help in the various stages of this article. 2 Les Premières Œuvres de Philippe Desportes au Roy de Pologne (Paris: Robert Estienne pour lui-même et Robert le Mangnier, 1573). The first modern edition of Desportes’ poetry is by Alfred Michiels, Œuvres de Philippe Desportes (Paris: Adolfe Delahais, 1858). A more recent edition of his work is by Victor Graham, Desportes, Philippe, Premières Œuvres (Paris et Genève: Minard et Droz, 1958) in seven volumes. All references will be based on this edition. 3 For Desportes’ role in Henri III’s Palace Academy, see ‘Desportes orateur à l’Académie du Palais’, in Philippe Desportes. Poète Profane, poètesacré, 23–100; Daniela Costa, ‘Desportes et l’Académie du Palais’, in Philippe Desportes (1546–1606), 163–72, and for his role in the Salon of the Maréchale de Retz, see Rosanna Gorris, ‘Je veux chanter d’amour la tempeste et l’orage’: Desportes et les Imitations de l’Arioste’, in Philippe Desportes (1546–1606), 173–211; Frances A. Yates, The French Academies of the Sixteenth Century (London: Warburg Institute, 1947); Robert J. Sealy, The Palace Academy of Henri III, (Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance, XI, 1971), 61–83; Mark Greengrass, Governing Passions. Peace and Reform in the French Kingdom, 1576–1585 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 46–59. Renaissance Studies Vol. 26 No. 3 DOI: 10.1111/j.1477-4658.2011.00729.x © 2011 The Author Renaissance Studies © 2011 The Society for Renaissance Studies, Blackwell Publishing Ltd career flourished during the reign of three different kings, Charles IX, Henri III, and Henri IV, in three courts and under two dynasties, the Valois and Bourbons. *** Desportes wrote extensively and in a variety of genres and styles.4 His poetry has almost always been analysed in relation to its sources, mostly the Italian Petrarchist and neo-Petrarchist poets of the Quattrocento and Cinquecento, or in relation to some of his contemporaries.5 This trend started while the poet was still alive when, in 1604, an anonymous editor published the pam- phlet, Le Rencontre des Muses de France et d’Italie. The text was later attributed to R. J. de Saint-Jorry,6 who was undoubtedly familiar with Desportes’ poetry and with the many Italian anthologies circulating in France during the end of the sixteenth century. This little-known volume, dedicated to the queen of France, Marie de Medici, brought together forty-three poems by Desportes and, on the facing page, forty-three Italian poems deemed to be his sources. The Rencontre is the embodiment of a perfect example of the literary and critical preoccupations of the Renaissance, and it raises several important questions dealing with the tension between mimesis and creativity, individuality and intertextuality, and, of course, language and Italianisms. Most importantly, I will argue here that the Rencontre contributes to a better understanding of Desportes and of how he read, adopted, and adapted his sources. This study will focus on Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie, a text that is rarely discussed yet is crucially important in the reading and interpretation of Desportes. It scrutinizes Saint- Jorry’s intentions and position toward not only his ‘rencontre’ of two poetics, but also toward matters of imitation. While this preface has been mostly ignored by literary critics, it constitutes an important document because it eloquently sheds light on significant conven- tions of Renaissance imitation. Moreover, through a close reading and textual analysis of four paired sonnets from the Rencontre, I hope to identify some 4 His Premières Œuvres (1573) includes: Le premier livre des Amours, Le second livre des Amours, Diverses Amours et autres œuvres meslées, les Amours d’Hippolyte; Elégies, a Latin play Ad Philipum Portaeum, and Imitations. For subse- quent editions see Philippe Desportes (1546–1606), 513–34. 5 See Jean Balsamo, who notes: ‘En fait l’on n’a cessé d’opposer Desportes à Ronsard, Desportes à Malherbe dans ces duels si caractéristiques de l’historiographie française.’ in Philippe Desportes (1546–1606), 8. A recent article on Desportes’ imitation by Roberta Cavallini is also very compelling, ‘L’Amour entre le profane et le sacré: échos pétrarquistes et nouvelles perspectives dans la poésie de Desportes’, in Philippe Desportes. Poète profane, poète sacré, 167–80. 6 Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie, (Lyon, Jacques Roussin, 1604). The volume also includes the Dialogue de Minerve et Junon sur les nopces Royales du Treschrestien Henry de Bourbon, Roy de France & de Navarre et de la Ser.me Marie de Medicis, Prince de Toscane by Guarini. Roussin also published Desportes’ work in Lyon in 1593. For Saint-Jorry, see Jean-Pierre Niceron, Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire des hommes illustres dans la république des lettres XXV (Paris: Briasson, 1734), 315; Francesco Flamini, Studi di storia letteraria italiana e straniera (Livorno: Giusti, 1895), 348; and Roméo Arbour, Répertoire chronologique des éditions de texts littéraires: l’ère baroque en France (Genève: Droz, 1977), 502. 386 Gabriella Scarlatta Eschrich characteristics of Desportes’ imitative practices, his individual poetic skills and specific contributions to early-modern French poetry, and mostly what distin- guishes his poetry from his model texts.7 I will argue that this volume, possibly compiled with the intention to denounce Desportes’ many Italianisms, in fact, turned out to herald his work because it reunited, in a unique bilingual collection, poetry that was well known in both Italy and France. After all, this is precisely what many Italian anthologies had done for several early modern poets.8 Philippe Desportes was an avid reader of the Italian anthologies of the Quattrocento and Cinquecento, and of the work of many Italian writers, such as Ludovico Ariosto, as his Imitations de quelques chans de l’Arioste (1572) attest.9 These translations and imitations helped the poet to perfect his lyrical skills and linguistic erudition. They also further enhanced his apprenticeship of the culture of Italian literature and of its major and minor authors. Indeed, one of Desportes’ principal contributions to French literature is his pivotal role as an intermediary between, and synthesizer of, French and Italian poetry. Later on in his career, because of his contribution to the transmission of Italian poetry through French translations, he became essential reading for the next generation of French poets who took inspiration from his writings.10 His many deviations from his Italian models enabled him to produce work that embod- ies a poetic, linguistic, and cultural repository in which the writings of past, present, and future French poets converge in a dynamic continuum.11 The original content and format of the Rencontre illustrates Desportes’ personal process of selection, imitation, and deviation from his sources, as they reveal which models incited his imagination the most. The volume is also 7 Recent scholarship on Le Rencontre includes the work of JoAnn DellaNeva, ‘Reading Desportes through the Italians: Two Early Modern Readers Responses’, Italique XI (Droz: Genève, 2008), 31–52; Philippe Desan, ‘Desportes devant la postérité: des premiers Tombeaux aux anthologies modernes’, in Philippe Desportes (1546– 1606), 495–510; Jean Balsamo, Les Rencontres des muses (Genève: Slatkine, 1992), 238. Le Rencontre is also mentioned in Roméo Arbour, Répertoire chronologique des éditions de texts littéraires, 502; in Frédéric Lachèvre, Bibliographie des recueils de poésies publiées de 1597 à 1700 (Paris: Henri Leclerc, 1901), 162; and, in more detail, in Jean-Pierre Niceron, Mémoires: 309–10. 8 For a study of Italian anthologies, see Joseph Vianey, Le Pétrarquisme en France au XVIe siècle (Montpellier: Coulet et Fils, 1909), and Louise George Clubb and William G. Clubb ‘Building a Lyric Canon: Gabriel Giolito and the Rival Anthologists, 1545–1590’, Italica, 68 (1991), 332–44. 9 This volume also contains imitations by Saint-Gelais, Baïf, and Louis D’Orléans. As Rosanna Gorris remarks, Desportes read Ariosto in order to take inspiration as a ‘roman-réservoir d’histoires amoureuses et de com- plaintes’ carefully adopting only the images that suited his taste. ‘Je veux chanter l’amour la tempeste e l’orage’: Desportes et les Imitations de l’Arioste,in Philippe Desportes (1546–1606), 209. 10 Most scholars referenced in this study remark on Desportes’ legacy to future French poets, see François Rouget, ‘Philippe Desportes médiateur du pétrarquisme français’, in Jean Balsamo (ed.), Les Poètes français de la Renaissance et Pétrarque (Genève: Droz, 2004), 341; Cecilia Rizza, ‘Persistance et transformation de l’influence italienne dans la poésie lyrique française de la première moitié du XVIIe siècle’, XVIIe Siècle 66–7 (1965), 22–42. See also Robert Burgess, who notes that: ‘Culturally, Philippe Desportes was the most celebrated French poet of the tortured, tragic, final quarter of the sixteenth century. As a writer and as a man he is representative of his age in that he reflects every aspect of it.’ ‘Mannerism in Philippe Desportes’, L’Esprit Créateur VI, 4 (1966), 272. 11 See Gisèle Mathieu Castellani, who explains that a Renaissance poetic text becomes a repository in which several traditions converge and flourish, and mimesis becomes the proof of perfectly assimilated conventions and taste, Mythes de l’éros baroque (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1981), 15–16. Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie 387 a product of its time and culture, and its reception is extremely indicative of Desportes’ fortune and fame. Although Le Rencontre has not received much scrutiny yet, several critics have referred to it and the tongue-in-cheek tone of its preface, but mostly as a denunciation of the various misconceptions that this volume created throughout the centuries.12 The poems by Desportes included in this text originate from his Premières Œuvres and Sonnets Spirituels, whereas the Italian authors’ poems are repre- sentative of the many sixteenth-century Italian anthologies that were circulat- ing in France at the time, thereby promoting the fame and fortune of the Italian poets. They are listed on Page 5 of the Rencontre as follows: Les Italiens [sonnets] de Angelo di Costanzo. Antonio Tibaldeo. Bernardo Tasso. Bernardino Tomitano. Dominico Veniero. Francesco Maria Molza. Giovan Mozzarello. Giacomo Sanazaro. Gio. Bat Amaltheo. Gio. Andrea Gesu- aldo. Gio. Iacomo Dal Pero. Girolamo Parabosco. Luigi Tansillo. L’Amanio. Remigio Fiorentino.13 More precisely, with the exception of Antonio Tebaldeo, whose poems came from his Opera d’amore di Messer Antonio Tebaldeo (Venezia, Bindoni, 1550), all of the other Italian poems are taken from the four following anthologies: I fiori de’ poeti illustri, nuovamente raccolti et ordinati da Girolamo Ruscelli (Venezia: G. B. e Melchior Sessa, 1558); Rime di diversi nobili huomini et eccellenti poeti nella lingua thoscana, Libro Secondo (Venezia: Giolito, 1547); Rime di diversi eccellentiss. Auttori nuovamente raccolte libro primo con nuova additione ristampato (Venezia: Giolito, 1549); and Delle rime di diversi nobili huomini et eccellenti poeti nella lingua thos- cana. Nuovamente ristampate, libro secondo (Venezia: Giolito, 1948).14 The variety of authors and texts reveals Desportes’ diverse range of inspiration in addition to the breadth of his reading and writing experiences. The Rencontre embodies an original and unique idea in early modern litera- ture, because it can be considered a resourceful and concise bilingual anthol- 12 Michiels, for example, reports the following anecdote: ‘Vers la fin de sa carrière, on lui joua le mauvais tour de publier quarante-trois de ses sonnets, en regard desquels on avait imprimé les sonnets italiens qu’il avait mis à contribution, sans avertir le lecteur. Le poète ne s’émut aucunement de cette révélation.’ Lxix. Philippe Desan, on the other hand, sees in this pamphlet the very beginning of serious criticism against Desportes’ Italianisms: ‘Ces mignardises italiennes lui seront reprochées durant tous les siècles.’ ‘Desportes devant la postérité: des premiers Tombeaux aux anthologies modernes’, in Philippe Desportes (1546–1606), 507. See also Jacques Lavaud, in Le Pétrarquisme en France au XVI siècle (Montpellier: Coulet et Fils, 1909), 225; Flamini; Vianey, ‘Une rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie demeurée inédite’, Revue d’Histoire littéraire de la France, XIII (1906), 92–100, 92; Balsamo, and Gorris. 13 For an extensive study of the fortune of the Italian anthologies in France, see Balsamo, ‘Les Poètes français et les anthologies lyriques italiennes’, Italique V (Genève: Droz, 2002), 11–32; DellaNeva, ‘Variation in a Minor Key: Du Bellay’s Imitations of the Giolito Anthology Poets’, French Forum 14, 2 (1989), 133–46; and Marie- Françoise Piéjus, ‘Lecture et écriture selon des anthologies poétiques au XVIe siècle en Italie’, in Charles Adelin Fiorardo et J.-C. Margolin (eds.), L’Ecrivain face à son public en France et en Italie à la Renaissance (Paris: Librairie Philosophique J. Vrin, 1989), 337–58. 14 See Flamini, Studi di storia letteraria italiana e straniera, 433–9, and DellaNeva, ‘Reading Desportes through the Italians’, 51. 388 Gabriella Scarlatta Eschrich ogy in which tradition and originality mix, thereby reflecting Desportes’ poems themselves. In fact, the Rencontre possesses some distinct characteristics of the same widespread sixteenth-century Italian anthologies that were the source of his inspiration. The anthologies immediately became an editorial phenomenon between 1540 and 1560, and remained a successful literary genre throughout the sixteenth century.15 These many collections can be seen as an irreplaceable and dynamic text that documents the cultural and intellectual climate of the period. They also represent the single most important book genre through which to connect the Italian poets of the Quattrocento and Cinquecento to the French poets of the sixteenth century, from the School of Lyon to the Pléiade, to neo-Petrarchism and Baroque.16 Moreover, because of their widespread circulation in France, they allowed readers in literary circles to become very familiar with the Italian poems. Poets such as Desportes often relied on their patrons’ and readers’ability to recognize the source-poems, which in turn established an additional connection and continuity between writer and reader.17 Due to the fact that the forty-three poems in the Rencontre and their paired sonnets were collected and placed side by side, the volume also served as a source book that poets in search of new inspiration could consult and exploit as a tool to enhance their own imitation. Thus, as such, the Rencontre is a compelling and precious example of Desportes’ role as both a reader and writer of the Italian lyric tradition.18 As Terence Cave notes, in imitation ‘the activities of reading and writing become virtually identified’.19 Thus, as the close textual examination of two of his sonnets will reveal, the book repro- duces Desportes’ imitative process and demonstrates the crucial role of the Italian anthologies as a source of innumerable poetic possibilities. This process binds his poetry tightly to the poetry of the Italian neo-Petrarchan poets and is an indication of both his literary taste and methodical assimilation of the lyric tradition.20 By extension, the Rencontre itself becomes a poetic sourcebook and a keepsake for its dedicatee Marie de Medici, and for Desportes’ successors, and it conforms to the purposes and merits of an anthology, which were to bring together poets who represented a well- established literary hegemony and whose work was well worth reading, circu- lating, and most importantly, imitating. 15 See Clubb and Clubb, ‘Building a Lyric Canon’, 332–44. 16 See Vianey, Le Pétrarquisme en France, 378–85. 17 See DellaNeva, ‘Variation in a Minor Key’, 144. 18 See DellaNeva, ‘Reading Desportes through the Italians.’ 43. By tracing the narrative trend and sequence of the Rencontre’s poems, suggestive of Petrarch’s Rime Sparse, DellaNeva also argues that the Rencontre can be considered a bilingual canzoniere. 19 Terence Cave, The Cornucopian Text Problems of Writing in the French Renaissance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), 37. 20 On imitation and cultural assimilation, see Gisèle Mathieu-Castellani, Mythes de l’éros baroque (Paris: PUF, 1981), 15–16. Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie 389 Let us now examine in detail the volume and its two-page dedicatory preface, which holds the key to some of its editor’s intentions. As men- tioned, the volume was offered by Saint-Jorry to Marie de Medici as a pre- sentation copy. He was undoubtedly a passionate connoisseur of French and Italian poetry, because he was able to assemble what he deemed to be the forty-three exact sources of Desportes’ sonnets, as well as put together a bilingual collection of poetry for the queen of France. In simple and unpre- tentious language the editor explains how this volume came to be: ‘Le fortune rencontre que i’ay descouvert entre les plus fameux Poëtes Italiens, & un Cigne François, sur le subject qu’Amour luy-mesme leur avoit dicté’ (3). From the outset, the choice of the title ‘Le Rencontre’ indicates a volun- tary action, a meeting of the poetry from two countries, two languages and two cultures, and a mutual and reciprocal union, which will undoubtedly be fruitful. This meeting is also a metaphor for the union of Henri IV and Marie, who are portrayed together in an elaborate image on the second page of the Rencontre.21 Furthermore, the volume is offered as a practical guide to imitation, because it is crafted as a carefully selected compilation of famous Italian poems on the right side, with the best imitation, version or interpretation in French on the facing side. Since the latter are placed on the left page, directly before their Italian counterparts, their position suggests a rather privileged space in the volume. This unique bilingual setting readily provides poets with a wide range of imitative possibilities and concrete examples. In fact, the editor explains that, because these poems describe the same things and the same concepts they are the product of admirable poetical and linguistic labour, but mostly, of similar talents and muses from both sides of the Alps: ‘Madame, ceux qui s’entendent en la difference & condition des esprits, s’esmerveillent que plusieurs à l’insceu l’un de l’autre ayent descript mesmes choses en mesmes conceptions, & le plus souvent avec semblables paroles, & n’en trouvent autre occasion, sinon qu’ils estoyent conduits de mesme Genie, & mesme enthousiasme’ (2). The repetition of the words ‘mesme’ and ‘sem- blables’ expresses Saint-Jorry’s viewpoint on the equality and on the many similarities of the poems. According to Cave, though, sameness may also be preserved by emphasizing the necessity of difference, which I hope the close reading of the poems will exemplify.22 Furthermore, as Thomas Greene notes ‘each imitative literary work contains by definition what might be called a revivalist initiative, a gesture that signals the intent of reanimating an earlier text or texts on the far side of a rupture.’23 The French poems, therefore, are Desportes’ best version of imitation and of revivalist efforts that the editor could find, otherwise he would have not bothered collecting and offering 21 The text is located in the Bibliothèque Nationale de France in Paris (Rés. Ye 585) as well as at gallica.bnf.fr 22 Cave, The Cornucopian Text, 37. 23 Thomas Greene, The Light in Troy: Imitation and Discovery in Renaissance Poetry (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1982), 37. 390 Gabriella Scarlatta Eschrich them as a keepsake to the queen of his country. Thus, this precious donation, compiled and packaged for the monarch, Italian-born now living in a foreign land, crucially emphasizes similarities in themes and tastes between the two poetics, thereby underscoring Renaissance conventions of imitation. By claim- ing that the French and Italian poets reach the same perfection (4), Saint- Jorry becomes the custodian of this intertextual dialogue. Moreover, he not only stresses the quality and harmony accomplished in this dialogue, but also justifies the literary merit achieved by all sixteen celebrated authors. The editor is also attempting to champion his Rencontre by highlighting its linguistic value. Since the queen is well versed in poetry and speaks French fluently,24 he asks her to judge the quality and grace of the poems: ‘Le iugement en est à bon droit deferé à vostre Majesté, qui possede parfaicte- ment la cognoissance de l’une [langue], & s’acquiert tous les iours les graces parfaictes de l’autre’(4). Moreover, with the presentation copy of a bilingual anthology, Saint-Jorry also intended to make Marie de Medici feel at home by showing, perhaps, how much the French poet was indebted to the poets of her native country, and thus, how his work was not really all that foreign after all. By collecting and offering the eighty-six sonnets, Saint-Jorry brought together two national poetics. After all, the monarch herself embodies the same meeting of two cultures or muses, as the title suggests, and the union of two countries that share very similar literary interests, traditions, cultures, and languages. The volume is also a product of the culture of collecting in vogue during the sixteenth and the seventeenth centuries, meant as a treasured keepsake to be added to the queen’s collections, with its content of the best Franco-Italian poetry had to offer. The Rencontre is a concrete bilingual and intercultural compendium, a personal canzoniere offered to the queen as a ‘trésor poétique’, and as a cultural ‘outil d’acclimatisation’. This is not inconsistent with the idea that the editor intended to reveal Desportes’ sources, but this revelation does not seem to be the primary motivation for assembling the collection.25 In fact, although the tone of the beginning of the dedication appears to insinuate that the editor gathered these sonnets in order to expose Desportes to ridicule by revealing forty-three unequivocal sources of his work,26 the repetition of the adjectives ‘same’ and ‘similar’ (‘mesmes’ and ‘semblables’), 24 See Philippe Delorme, who notes: ‘Son français devient vite correct au point qu’elle finira par affirmer, dans une lettre du 24.10.1618: “Io non so più scrivere l’italiano.” ’ Histoire des reines de France. Marie de Médicis (Paris: Pygmalion, 1998), 84. 25 Balsamo remarks that: ‘L’ouvrage cependant, si on veut bien le lire, ne présente pas une dénonciation ironique de ‘plagiats’ de Desportes. Dédié à la reine Marie de Médicis, vivant symbole de la rencontre des Etats qui présidait à la rencontre des Muses, il évoquait l’heureuse émulation entre les deux langues sœurs. S’il rappelait les similitudes, il insistait sur les écarts entre des poèmes semblables et d’une même excellence.’ Les Rencontres des muses, 237–8. 26 This part reads: ‘Ceux qui s’entendent en la difference & condition des esprits, s’esmerveillent que plusieurs à l’insceu l’un de l’autre ayent descript mesmes choses en mesmes conceptions, & le plus souvent avec semblables paroles, & n’en trouvent autre occasion, sinon qu’ils estoyent conduits de mesme Genie, & poussez d’un mesme enthousiasme,’ 3. Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie 391 instead calls attention to the editor’s main intention, which was to bring together analogous concepts in poetry. Of course, he also indirectly praises his own contribution to the literatures of France and Italy in assembling a pre- cious sourcebook of eminent poetry. Furthermore, despite the differences in style and language, Saint-Jorry claims that the authors in the Rencontre: ‘conviennent tous neanmoins à ceste perfection’ (4), thereby praising in equal measure the linguistic and lyric perfection achieved by both Desportes and the Italian poets. His main crit- erion for selection is that the source poems should bear similarities to Desportes’ texts. In some cases, these sources constitute the exact models, because the French poet followed Renaissance practices of imitation and abided by the Petrarchist tradition whose characteristics enabled the monarch and other readers to better appreciate and value the small collection. A key statement in the preface: ‘sur le suiect qu’Amour luy-mesme leur avoit dicté’(3) identifies love as the main topic that gives inspiration to both groups of poets and binds them together. The poems not only share the same Petrarchan code and language, they also follow the Canzoniere’s trajectory, in that the last six poems’ content is entirely spiritual. For Desportes, as reader and writer, the Rencontre is an affirmation of his lyrical skills in choosing his models and adapting them to the French language and style, and a testimony to his ability to create poems that subsequently acquire a life of their own, with a distinct tone and sensibility that, in turn, inspired his contemporaries and successors. *** The following analysis of the paired poems will show exactly how Desportes deviated from his Italian sources, thereby distinguishing himself and his style from them. Although he was initially inspired by the images of the Italian sonnets, the choice and control of vocabulary, his lyric attitude and themes, undeniably produced poetry that is both distinctive and inventive. The first sonnet is paired with a poem by Luigi Tansillo (1510–68), a well-known Italian poet from Naples, who was widely represented in the Italian anthologies. Just like Desportes, Tansillo was an experienced and admired court poet whose writings were one of the main attractions at the balls and social events of Vicerè Pietro Toledo and his son Garzia.27 Petrarch’s intertext is always apparent in Tansillo’s lyrics, thereby producing a remarkable conti- nuity between the multi-layered Italian tradition, from Petrarch to Tansillo, and French tradition, from the Pléiade to neo-Petrarchism. 27 For Tansillo’s life and work, see Il Canzoniere edito ed inedito, Erasmo Pèrcopo (ed.), Vol. I, (Napoli: Tipografia degli Artigianelli, 1926), and the most recent critical study by Erika Milburn, Luigi Tansillo and Lyric Poetry in Sixteenth-Century Naples (Leeds: Maney Publishing, 2003). 392 Gabriella Scarlatta Eschrich Desportes: Espouventable Nuict, qui tes cheveux noircis Couvres du voile obscur des tenebres humides, Et des antres sortant par tes couleurs livides, De ce grand Univers les beautez obscurcis. Las! Si tous les travaux par toy sont addoucis, Au ciel, en terre, en l’air, sous les marbres liquides, Or que dedans ton char le silence tu guides, Un de tes cours entiers enchante mes soucis. Je diray que tu es du Ciel la fille aisnee, Que d’astres flamboyans ta teste est couronnee, Que tu caches au sein les plaisirs gracieux. Des amours & des ieux la ministre fidele, Des mortels le repos: bref tu seras si belle, Que les plus luisans iours en seront envieux. (XXVII 58, Hippolyte71) Tansillo: Orrida notte, che rinchiusa il negro Crin, sotto’l vel de l’umide tenebre, Da sotterra esci, e di color funebre, Ammanti il mondo, e spoglilo d’allegro. Io, che i tuoi freddi induggi irato, & egro, Biasmo non men, che la mia ardente febre, Quanto ti loderei, se le palpebre, Queto chiudessi un de’tuoi corsi integro. Direi, ch’esci dal cielo, e’ c’hai di stelle Mille corone, onde fa’l mondo adorno, Che ne chiami al riposo, e ne rapelle, Da le fatiche, e ch’al tuo sen soggiorno, Fanno i diletti, e tante cose belle, Che se n’andria tinto d’invidia il giorno. (XXVII 59) The close textual reading demonstrates the ways in which the French sonnet differs from its model with simple adaptations or, at times, deep-rooted trans- formations. Desportes’ sonnet is evidently inspired by Tansillo’s, but is by no means a translation. A linguistic and thematic analysis will prove very useful in determining Desportes’ creative vein: the main common trait is the lyrical expression and powerful imagery of the night and its personification. Both poets address an intimate and erotic monologue to the frightful (‘Espouvantable’) or horrid (‘Orrida’) night. Tansillo’s choice of the first word sounds exceedingly harsh with its double ‘rr’ whereas Desportes’ choice is mitigated and appeased by its nasal sound. Both images evoke the night’s powers to form dreams and peace, enveloping the sleepy world with shiny stars (Desportes’ ‘astres flamboyans’ and Tansillo’s‘di stelle/ Mille corone’). While bor- rowing this opening image, the French poet transforms the frightful night, Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie 393 ‘Espouvantable Nuict’, into an idyllic phenomenon that extends to the entire universe. The night is likened to an irresistible woman, with her appealing hair, breasts, and beauty. The striking similitude of the night and the dark hair (Desportes’‘cheveux noircis’ and Tansillo’s‘il negro/Crin’) dominates both first quatrains, but the French one is also governed by the power of the night to obscure the beauty of the entire universe (‘De ce grand Univers les beautez obscurcis’). This image does not appear to be as dominant in the Italian poem, because Tansillo brings into play the world (‘Ammanti il mondo’), rather than the greatness of the universe, which in the French poem is given a capital letter (‘De ce grand Univers’). The intensity of this image has already been foreshadowed by the choice of the French word ‘astres’, a more appropriate macrocosmic element than the Italian word, ‘stelle’. Since both astri and stelle exist in Italian, as well as astres and étoiles in French, Desportes’ preference for astres magnifies even further his suggestive portrait of the night. Moreover, this universal vision is also intensified in the second quatrain of the French sonnet with a typical Petrarchan enumeration of the elements: ‘Au ciel, en terre, en l’air, sous les marbres liquides’ so as to further empower the night in the sky, on earth, in the air, and in the seas; nothing can escape its darkness and magnitude. Both first tercets bring the poets back to their personal reflections with an immediate and upfront urgency to personalize their poems: Desportes’ ‘Je diray’, and Tansillo’s ‘Direi’. If both poets were lost in the contemplation and admiration of the night, they now refocus and look inward. Here again, Desportes departs from the model by bestowing upon his night the privileged status as the sky’s firstborn child: ‘tu es du Ciel la fille aisnee’, yet another tactic to empower and venerate night-time. Both poets evoke darkness’s erotic and influential properties (Desportes: ‘Que tu caches au sein les plaisirs gracieux/ Des amours et des ieux la ministre fidele,’ and Tansillo: ‘e ch’al tuo sen soggiorno,/ Fanno i diletti, e tante cose belle’). In this lyrical representation of the night and its obscure dimensions, the two paired sonnets conclude with earnest praise, whereby the poets express, in similar terms, their fascination with this magic night of dreams: Desportes: ‘bref tu seras si belle,/ Que les plus luisans jours en seront envieux’; Tansillo: ‘Che se n’andria tinto d’invidia il giorno.’ The days are envious of the beauty of the night. However, by adding a superlative adjective, ‘les plus luisans’ the French narrator stresses once more the power of darkness over light, thereby crafting his final verse more persuasively. The second sonnet is an additional example of the underlying tensions in the process of imitation and creation. It is undoubtedly inspired by the Italian model. However, Desportes’ poem departs from it almost immediately. It is paired with a sonnet by Angelo di Costanzo (1507–91).28 A poet and magis- trate from a noble family in Naples, Costanzo was principally known as one of 28 Angelo di Costanzo, Rime (Bologna: Barbiroli, 1709). See also Vianey, ‘Desportes et Angelo di Costanzo’, Révue d’Histoire littéraire de la France, XV (1908), 330–41. 394 Gabriella Scarlatta Eschrich the most original imitated Petrarchists in both Italy and France through his inclusion in the sixteenth-century Italian anthologies.29 Desportes: Cent fois tout courroucé de veoir que mes escrits,30 N’ont peu rendre à m’aimer vostre coeur plus facile, Jettons (ce di-je) au feu cet ouvrage inutile, Aux destins de son maistre il doibt estre comprins. Puisque tant de labeurs, de souspirs, & de cris, Ont esté tous semez en terroir infertile, J’en veux brusler l’histoire, & suyvre un autre style, Ce n’est que trop chanté d’Amour & de Cypris. Vostre injuste rigueur me pousse à cet outrage: Mais de les mettre au feu je n’ay pas le courage, Voyant vostre beau nom en mille endroits semé. Donc qu’ils restent vivans, puisque ta mesme flamme Feroit aussi mourir les honneurs de Madame, Il suffit que sans eux je sois seul consommé. (XXX, 64, Cléonice 63) Costanzo: S’alcuna volta avien, ch’io d’arder tente Le rime mie; che senza haver giovato A porre in voi pietà, v’hanno acquistato Più che fama futura, odio presente. De la giust’ira sua tosto si pente Il cor, vedendo il bel nome segnato, In lor sì spesso, e pargli (ahi duro fato!) Por le viscere sue nel foco ardente. E grida: Restin pur’ eterne, e viva Con lor Madonna, e non sia’n questa etate, Ch’il mio morire à crudeltà le ascriva. Ch’io non vuò c’habbia mai di me pietate, Con scemar di sua gloria anima viva, Nè macchi il sangue mio la sua beltate. (XXX, 65) The paired sonnets start with a similar image. In both, the narrator struggles with the desire to burn the pages in which he writes about and celebrates his beloved, because they fail to make her fall in love with him. Constanzo writes wittily that, rather than resulting in his future fame, his verses produced hate. Desportes, on the other hand, simplifies the stanza, and in a single verse, he 29 See Vianey, Le Pétrarquisme en France, 194, and Marius Piéri, Pétrarque et Ronsard ou de l’influence de Pétrarque sur la Pléiade française (New York: Burt Franklin, 1968), 25. 30 I correct from ‘esprits,’ as modern editors of Desportes’ work have done. See Graham, Cléonice; dernières amours, 91. Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie 395 clearly and forthrightly states that his art of writing poetry did not gain him his lady’s love: ‘N’ont peu rendre à m’aimer vostre cœur plus facile’. Both poets are conscious of the power of their writings: Desportes extends the image into the following quatrain, where, again with a Petrarchan enumeration (‘Puisque tant de labeurs, de souspirs, & de cris’), he stresses his work’s infertility and completely forgoes the second image developed by Costanzo (‘Il cor, vedendo il bel nome segnato’). However, the French poet creatively weaves together the destiny of his useless writings (‘ouvrage inutile’) with his own destiny: ‘Aux destins de son maistre il doibt estre comprins.’ While powerfully closing the first quatrain, this original verse seals the poet-persona’s fate with the fate of his creation, and both seem condemned to end. Desportes’ sonnet appears less elaborate because he does not make use of Costanzo’s concettos, such as: ‘v’hanno acquistato/ Più che fama futura, odio presente.’ This is the major difference between the two sonnets: Desportes prefers a more lyric and traditional approach to facing unrequited love, without drawing on strong and sometimes fierce words and images. Rather, he maintains an attitude of relative tolerance, expressed simply in the following verse: ‘So that they may continue to live’ (‘Donc qu’ils restent vivans’). Costanzo persists with the personification of his screaming heart in the first tercet: ‘E grida’, thereby extending a second concetto, and actually articulating it even more vividly with the verse: ‘Ch’il mio morire à crudeltà le ascriva.’ Desportes, on the other hand, does not become this dramatic; rather, he continues with an acquiescent attitude toward his gloomy destiny: ‘Vostre injuste rigueur me pousse à cet outrage’ and again, in the last tercet: ‘Donc qu’ils restent vivans’. This milder mind-set is also reflected in the language, which, as we have seen, never becomes violent or grotesque, as in Costanzo’s poem: ‘Por le viscere sue nel foco ardente’ and ‘Nè macchi il sangue mio la sua beltate’, where, literally, the lover-persona’s blood would stain his beloved’s beauty. Desportes concludes with a completely different image, bestowing upon his reader a more serene stance toward unrequited love: ‘Il suffit que sans eux je sois seul consommé.’ The pride of the Italian narrator in the last tercet: ‘Ch’io non vuò c’habbia mai di me pietate’ is completely absent in the French sonnet, demonstrating that, if at the beginning, Desportes took inspiration from the Italian model, he crafts his own narrative and departs significantly from it, in imagery, language, and lyric tone throughout the poem, until the very end. In fact, Desportes tones down Costanzo’s violent images and lan- guage, and this is characteristic of his style, which has been labelled ‘doux coulant’, fluid, and elegant, and which privileges a more measured, elegant, and gracious approach to lyric themes.31 31 See, for example, Graham, who claims that Desportes’ main characteristics are: ‘la fluidité, l’élégance, la grâce légère,’ and claims that: ‘ses contemporains admiraient ses vers ‘doux coulants.’ In ‘Le Rôle de Desportes dans la poésie française’, Revue de l’Université d’Ottawa (1965), 54. 396 Gabriella Scarlatta Eschrich *** In conclusion, by intentionally placing the poems side by side, Saint-Jorry undoubtedly brings out the few similarities and the significant deviations between the two texts. In the first poem, where the initial imagery remains the same, Desportes adds intensity and grandeur by his careful choice of vocabu- lary. In the second, he transforms the rebellion of the Italian model into acceptance; the entire sonnet is tempered by simpler and less violent lan- guage. Both French sonnets follow French versification, they are independent and original, thus demonstrating the author’s own creativity in deviating from their Italian sources. The analysis of the dedication and of the four sonnets enables us to reflect on Desportes’ imitative style and his vibrant approach to intertextuality, and suggests several important conclusions about the mimesis and creative process intrinsic to his work. First, both examples show that, while the French poet at first took inspira- tion from his Italian sources, he almost immediately departed from them, and produced instead separate and distinct texts, with unique and imaginative characteristics, and with a language that is inventive, resourceful, and repre- sentative of his own style. If at first the images and themes of the source deeply inspired Desportes, a distinct and quite different progression unfolds into an independent new poem in which changes, additions, omissions, and most importantly, deviations unfold in order to create an individual work. Second, linguistically, the skilled French poet does not use Italianisms, but rather, a vocabulary springs from his own native vernacular, which he had the opportunity to develop and refine through his many translations and adapta- tions. As Balsamo notes, Desportes’ role in the development of the French language is of primary importance, precisely as a result of these painstaking exercises.32 As an avid reader of Petrarch and of the Petrarchist poets, an assiduous member of the salons and of the Palace Academy, and of the Italianate court of Henri III, and also as a result of his sojourns in Italy, Desportes did not perceive Italian as an entirely foreign language.33 With his disciplined linguistic exercises and fruitful imitations, the French poet sought to make the Italian authors of the Quattrocento and Cinquecento more contemporaneous and less foreign, bringing their language and style closer to new French linguistic structures and possibilities.34 Third, with his work, Desportes enriched the French language itself. His linguistic and stylistic preferences persisted with the next generation of 32 ‘Traduire de l’italien. Ambitions sociales et contraintes éditoriales à la fin du XVIe siècle’, in Dominique de Courcelles (ed.), Traduire et Adapter à la Renaissance (Paris: Ecoles des Chartes, 1998), 89–98. 33 His private library was considerably furnished with various genres of Italian books, as Isabelle de Conihout notes in ‘Du nouveau sur la bibliothèque de Desportes et sur sa dispersion’, in Philippe Desportes (1546–1606), 121–60. 34 For more detail about Desportes’ readings of sixteenth-century Italian anthologies, see Vianey, Le Pétrar- quisme en France, 232–44; Lavaud, 274–81; and Rouget’s more recent article, ‘Philippe Desportes et la logique des recueils poétiques’, in Réforme, Humanisme et Renaissance, 62 ( June 2006), 99–110. Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie 397 French poets, thereby establishing a new phase of imitatio.35 In his preface, Saint-Jorry addressed precisely the issue of linguistic competence and aptitude of the French and Italian poets, thereby stressing the effort that all of them undertook in order to represent best their own vernacular: ‘car chacun d’eux taschant à son possible de representer l’excellence de la pureté de sa langue, & de la merveilleuse fecondité de son style’ (3–4). In borrowing only the elements that better corresponded to his personal tastes and poetic vein, Desportes weaved his sources into his writings through a conscientious process of self-inscription within the lyric traditions of France and Italy, of Petrarchism and neo-Petrarchism, while skilfully crafting his personal poetic identity. Finally, Desportes and the purported editor seem to have shared similar goals in their endeavours: to bring together two parallel literatures and cul- tures, to respond to their readers’ tastes and expectations, and to fit with the literary conventions and tradition of their time. If Le Rencontre des muses de France et d’Italie was at first a gift to Marie de Medici, carefully crafted as a bilingual anthology and a personal canzoniere, it also came to mark an impor- tant moment in the literatures of France and Italy of the early modern period. Moreover, it remains a compelling text today. This little volume, after all, turned out to be yet another avenue through which Desportes’ work was circulated and became known, thus turning out to be a publication which furthered his career and reputation, and which connected his poetry more meaningfully to the poetry of well-known Italian authors. The University of Michigan-Dearborn 35 Several scholars have remarked on Desportes’ significant role in establishing a clearly distinct phase in French poetry, thus serving future generations of French poets. See, for example, Rouget, who notes that Desportes distances himself from the previous generation of poets while guiding his contemporaries toward a new phase, ‘Philippe Desportes et les inflexions métriques de la voix lyrique’, in Philippe Desportes (1546–1606), 297, and Balsamo, who points out that Desportes’ language had a significant impact on sixteenth- and seventeenth-century French, Les Rencontres des Muses, 45. 398 Gabriella Scarlatta Eschrich 
work_dwhoonied5dqxag5aycmw6dtzq	----	Book Reviews Christian faith and took the name of Petrus Alfonsi. His Disciplina clericalis was widely known throughout medieval Europe in Latin and in translations, and consists of proverbs, poetry, fables, anecdotes, and tales of men's fates. A translation by Eberhard Hermes into German appeared in 1970 and Mr. P. R. Quarrie has now prepared an English version ofthe original Latin text, with reference to Hermes' work. He has also translated Hermes' lengthy introduction (pp. 3-99), which describes 'The author and his times', and also the position of Jews in medieval Spanish society. Of interest to historians of medicine and science is the part dealing with medieval attitudes to scientific investigations, and there are also a number of references in the text to medicine, which supplement our limited knowledge of it in this period. In view of this and of its wide influence Dr. Quarrie's excellent and scholarly translation should be carefully studied by all those concerned with medieval medicine and science. ARTEMIDORUS, The interpretation of dreams. Oneirocritica, with translation and commentary by Robert J. White, Park Ridge, N. J., Noyes Press, 1975, 8vo, pp. ix, 259, $15.00. Written in the second century A.D. by a professional dream-interpreter, this book appears here in English for the first time. There is a lengthy introduction to the five constituent books, each with lengthy commentaries. Literally hundreds of dreams are related and interpreted, and no doubt the psycho- analyst will find all these data of overwhelming interest. Its value to the less romantic is not so obvious, and the statement on the dustjacket that interest in dreams and their meaning "is one of the hallmarks of the intellectual life of this century" can hardly be taken seriously. However, as far as classical studies are concerned, it is important to have an accurate and scholarly translation of a well-known author's writings on a theme of interest and concern to the Ancient World. Thus, the great significance of the dream in the Classical and pre-Classical era makes this a note- worthy contribution, and it opens up a new area for the non-Greek reader. On these grounds it can be warmly recommended. PETER SHARRATT (editor), French Renaissance studies, 1540-70. Humanism and the encyclopedia, Edinburgh University Press, 1976, 8vo, pp. ix, 976, £8.00. In this collection there are fourteen essays, three in French, on highly specialized topics, all presented at a conference in Edinburgh in 1974. Each is a scholarly produc- tion and together they illustrate a variety of approaches and attitudes to the central theme of the meeting, which was French Renaissance education, 1540 to 1570. Historians of medicine and science will be particularly interested in the papers by M. A. Screech on 'Medicine and literature: aspects of Rabelais and Montaigne (with a glance at the law)' and by W. P. D. Wightman on 'Cosmological and technological trends in the French Renaissance'. Others on meteorology and French poetry, the scientific poetry of Guy Lef6vre de la Boderie, and on the teaching of mathematics in France, 1540 to 1570, will also be found useful, as will be the remainder, to those studying Renaissance medicine or science. These are concerned mainly with the liberal arts, but also with the encyclopedia, ethics, and law. 209 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300032385 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:16, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300032385 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_ahsphirsu5cnro2uftcyv5ljcm	----	THE QUEBEC WINTER CARNIVAL OF 1894: THE TRANSFORMATION OF THE .CITY AND THE FESTIVAL IN THE NINETEENTH CENTURY by FRANK ALBERT ABBOTT B.A., S a i n t Mary's U n i v e r s i t y , 1971 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS i n HISTORY We a c c e p t t h i s t h e s i s as c o n f o r m i n g t o t h e r e q u i r e d s t a n d a r d THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA August 1982 © Frank A l b e r t A b b o t t , 1982 In p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f the r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r an advanced degree a t the U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , I a g r e e t h a t the L i b r a r y s h a l l make i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and s t u d y . I f u r t h e r a g r e e t h a t p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y purposes may be g r a n t e d by the Head o f my Department o r by h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . I t i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t c o p y i n g o r p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l not be a l l o w e d w i t h o u t my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . Department o f History The U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h Columbia 2075 Wesbrook P l a c e V a n c o u v e r , Canada V6T 1W5 " D a t e August 30, 1982 - i i - ABSTRACT The ambiguous nature and the importance of ancient t r a d i t i o n s adapting to modernization are very evident i n the celebration of the winter carnivals held i n Montreal between 1883 and 1889 and e s p e c i a l l y i n Quebec City i n 1894. In looking at the motovations of t h e i r organizers, i t i s possible to see a primarily economic goal: the a t t r a c t i o n of large numbers of American t o u r i s t s to help the l o c a l economy i n the slow winter season by o f f e r i n g to them " c u l t u r a l " spectacles of French and English Canada. According to the newspapers of the period, these new carnivals had no connec- t i o n at a l l with the older c y c l i c a l and r e l i g i o u s celebration of Carnival-Lent-Easter which were well-known and celebrated with enthusiasm i n New France from the seventeenth century onwards. In f a c t the opposite was true. These events were seen as occasions for the amateur a t h l e t i c clubs of the French and e s p e c i a l l y the English-speaking middle class of Quebec to put on spectacles of t h e i r winter sports l i k e c u r l i n g , snowshoeing and hockey. Along with t h i s went the expectation of decorous behaviour within the l i m i t s of V i c t o r i a n morality and an end to the t r a d i t i o n a l public drunkenness and boisterous behaviour t r a d i t i o n a l l y associated with such occasions. - i i i - The centrepiece of t h i s event was the evening torch- l i g h t parade i n and around the large ice palace, a t r a d i t i o n which the English speaking organizers of the f i v e Montreal carnivals of the 1880's had borrowed from winter f e s t i v a l s of the Imperial Russian court. Paradoxically, t h i s has survived to become one of most famous symbols of the present Carnaval de Quebec. The p a r t i c i p a t i o n of middle class French Canadians and even the t a c i t support of the Catholic Church, one of the most persistent foes of the older c a r n i v a l celebrations, both contributed immeasurably to the success of the new f e s t i v a l . i This can be explained by three related phenomena: 1) A change i n s o c i a l mores i n general between the beginning and the end of the nineteenth century gave the Church a large voice over the l i v e s of French Canadians. 2) A greater process of regulation of the society, and e s p e c i a l l y the c i t y , was r e f l e c t e d i n and even responsible for the disappearance of several old community f e s t i v a l s of the past l i k e the c a r n i v a l . It i s not yet possible to say conclusively whether the authorities suppressed these old f e s t i v a l s or whether the public simply abandoned them, though i t appears to be a combination of both. 3) The economic transformation of the c i t y of Quebec from a commercial centre to an i n d u s t r i a l c i t y , with the consequent s o c i a l changes. - i v - Thus the study of the c a r n i v a l raises c u l t u r a l and a s o c i a l questions. By studying the history of the changes i n the observance of the c a r n i v a l and i n who observed i t s c e l e - bration, i t i s possible to understand a l i t t l e more about the mentality of the urban population of the time and to begin to understand t h e i r responses to the other changes taking place in the society around them. - v - SOMMAIRE La nature ambigue et 11 importance du processus d'adaptation des anciennes t r a d i t i o n s devant l a modernisation sont bien eVidentes dans les "carnavals d'hiver" tenus a Montreal entre 1883 et 1889 et surtout a Quebec en 1894. En etudiant les motivations des organisateurs, i l est possible de v o i r le but q u ' i l s v i s a i e n t : s o i t d ' a t t i r e r beaucoup de touristes americains, d'aider a l'economie locale durant l a saison hivernale en leur offrant des spectacles 'culturels' du Canada anglais et du Canada francais. Au dire des journaux de l'epoque, ce carnaval n'avait r i e n a v o i r avec l'ancien cycle de "Carnaval-Care^me-Ptiques " bien connu et tres c<§lebre dans l a Nouvelie-France depuis le 17e s i e c l e . Au contraire, les "sporting clubs" de l a classe moyenne francophone et surtout anglophone de Quebec voyaient dans cette celebration 1'occasion de f a i r e des spectacles de leurs sports d'hiver comme l a raquette, le c u r l i n g , le hockey. A i n s i pouvait-on s'amuser dans les limites de l a moralite victorienne: e'en e t a i t f i n i de l ' i v r e s s e publique et de l a conduite tumultueuse t r a d i t i o n e l l e . Le chef d'oeuvre de cet evenement e t a i t le d e f i l e nocturne autour du grand p a l a i s de glace, une t r a d i t i o n empruntge § l a Russie par les anglophones de Montreal pour leurs carnavals des annees 1880. Paradoxalement, i l est devenu - v i - l'un des symboles l e s p l u s connu de l ' a c t u e l Carnaval de Quebec. La p a r t i c i p a t i o n des C a n a d i e n s - f r a n c a i s de l a c l a s s e moyenne, e t me~me l ' a p p u i r e s e r v e de l ' E g l i s e C a t h o l i q u e , l'un des ennemis de l ' a n c i e n c a r n a v a l , c o n t r i b u a i e n t beaucoup au succSs de c e t t e n o u v e l l e fete. C e l a s'explique par t r o i s phenomenes: 1) Un changement dans l e s moeurs s o c i a l e s en generale e n t r e l e debut e t l a f i n du XIXe s i e c l e donnait a l ' E g l i s e une i n f l u e n c e r e s t r i c t i v e sur l a v i e des C a n a d i e n s - f r a n c a i s . 2) Une p l u s grande r e g l e m e n t a t i o n de l a s o c i e t e e n t i e r e q u i se r e f l e t a i t dans l a d i s p a r i t i o n de quelques fe"tes p o p u l a i r e s du passe comme l e c a r n a v a l . I I n'est pas d€ja p o s s i b l e de d i r e s i l e s a u t o r i t e s supprimaient „: ces fe~tes ou s i l e p u b l i c l e s abandonnait. 3) La t r a n s f o r m a t i o n economique de l a v i l l e . A i n s i l e s q u e s t i o n s q u i se posent sont d'ordre c u l t u r e l l e s e t s o c i a l e s . E t u d i e r l ' h i s t o i r e des changements dans l e c a r n a v a l c ' e s t e t u d i e r un peu l a m e h t a l i t e de l a p o p u l a t i o n urbaine de 1"epoque e t comprendre l e u r s reponses aux a u t r e s grands changements dans l e u r s o c i e t e . - v i i - TABLE OF CONTENTS Page ABSTRACT. . . . . . . i i SOMMAIRE . . . ' . . . . v ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS . . . . . . . . x CHAPTER I NOTHING "INCONSISTENT WITH DUTY AND SELF-RESPECT" . . . . . 1 I . I n t r o d u c t i o n . . . . . 1 I I . M a r k e t i n g t h e P a s t . . . . 7 I I I . C i v i l i z i n g t h e C a r n i v a l . . . 13 CHAPTER I I THE CARNIVAL CITY AND THE REAL CITY. . 27 I . B e h i n d the C a r n i v a l Veneer . . 2 7 I I . The Economic T r a n s i t i o n . . . 4 3 CHAPTER I I I THE CARNIVAL OF 1894 . . . . 56 I . "The A n c i e n t C a p i t a l Under a New A s p e c t . . . . . 5 6 I I . O r g a n i z i n g the C a r n i v a l . . . 61 I I I . The Event . . . . . . 70 IV. The A f t e r m a t h . . . . . 80 CHAPTER IV CONCLUSION . . . . . . 8 5 NOTES - CHAPTER I ..: . . . . . . . 8 8 NOTES - CHAPTER I I . . . . . . . . 9 6 NOTES - CHAPTER I I I . . . . . . . 1 0 3 NOTES - CHAPTER IV . . . . . . . 1 0 8 BIBLIOGRAPHY . . . . . . . . 1 0 9 APPENDIX OF PHOTOGRAPHS, MAPS AND TABLES . . . 116 - v i i i - LIST OF PHOTOGRAPHS Page 1. C o l l a g e , t h e Quebec C a r n i v a l o f 1894 . . . 1 1 7 2. I c e S t a t u e s , t h e Quebec C a r n i v a l o f 1894 . . 3. I c e P a l a c e , t h e Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l o f 1894 . 4. Archway a t t h e Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l o f 1896 . ^-2^ 5. I c e P a l a c e , the M o n t r e a l W i n t e r C a r n i v a l o f 1889. LIST OF MAPS Quebec C i t y 1894 . . . . . . . 127 - i x - LIST OF TABLES T a b l e Page 1 The Quebec Amateur A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n . . 128 2 L ' A s s o c i a t i o n a t h l e t i q u e de S t . Roch de Quebec, o c c u p a t i o n s o f members, membership on c a r n i v a l committees . . . . . 130„ 3 Names and o c c u p a t i o n s o f the members o f major c a r n i v a l committees . . . . 131 The Quebec Chamber o f Commerce 1893-1894 and c o n n e c t i o n s w i t h Quebec C a r n i v a l Committees . . . . . 134 The Quebec B u s i n e s s Community, 1894 . . 135 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS A number o f p e o p l e were r e s p o n s i b l e f o r making t h i s work p o s s i b l e . W i t h o u t P r o f e s s o r P e t e r Moogk's v a l u a b l e a d v i c e and d i r e c t i o n a t c r i t i c a l t i m e s , t h e work would not have p r o g r e s s e d as i t d i d . A h e a r t f e l t a p p r e c i a t i o n must a l s o be extended t o the I n t e r l i b r a r y Loans department o f t h e U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h Columbia f o r a l l t h e i r k i n d a s s i s t a n c e . The s t a f f o f t h e B i b l i o t h e q u e de l'Assemblee N a t i o n a l du Quebec was generous on a number o f o c c a s i o n s w i t h t h e i r time and c o - o p e r a t i o n . Thanks must a l s o go t o P r o f e s s o r M i c h a e l I g n a t i e f f f o r s u g g e s t i n g t h e s u b j e c t o f t h e t h e s i s i n the f i r s t p l a c e , and t o Claude Gagnon f o r h i s h e l p on an e a r l i e r d r a f t w h i c h was p r e s e n t e d t o the 1981 m e e t i n g o f t h e Canadian H i s t o r i c a l A s s o c i a t i o n i n H a l i f a x . The management o f "Le Cous Cous" have been v e r y u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t h e demands t h i s has made on- my w o r k i n g t i m e . F i n a l l y , w i t h o u t t h e c o n t i n u e d s u p p o r t and encourage- ment o f R i c h a r d D e n n i s , and h i s sound judgment, t h i s t h e s i s c o u l d not have been w r i t t e n a t a l l . - x i - T h i s i s d e d i c a t e d t o My Mother and F a t h e r - 1 - CHAPTER I NOTHING "INCONSISTENT WITH DUTY AND SELF-RESPECT" I. Introduction On the night of February 2, 1894, twenty-five hundred torch-bearing snowshoers and militiamen wearing "tuques", blanket coats and the ceinture flechee of old Quebec, p a r t i c i - pated i n one of the grandest spectacles seen in Quebec C i t y . The occasion was the storming of the ice palace at the Quebec Winter Carnival which had begun at the beginning of that week and which was to l a s t a few days longer. The night's show was d e f i n i t e l y considered to have been the high point of the celebration. From a balcony of the neighbouring Quebec L e g i s l a t i v e Assembly building, Lord Aberdeen, the Governor- General of Canada,and his party watched the t o r c h l i t proces- sion as i t approached the massive walls of the ice palace and observed the ensuing firework display, as each side f i l l e d the a i r with multi-coloured fireworks for three-quarters of an hour. Thousands of spectators were t h r i l l e d by the impressive sight of the attack upon and the c a p i t u l a t i o n of the ice fortress and the l a t e r t o r c h l i g h t procession through the streets of the c i t y . The organizers of the revived celebra- t i o n of the c a r n i v a l i n Quebec City could well congratulate themselves."'' - 2 - The s u c c e s s o f t h i s c a r n i v a l w o u l d l e a d t o a r e p e a t p e r f o r m a n c e i n 1896, f o l l o w e d by s m a l l e r a f f a i r s f o r a few y e a r s l o n g e r u n t i l , a f t e r f i f t y y e a r s o f n e g l e c t , t h e r e w o u l d be a p e r m a n e n t r e v i v a l o f " l e c a r n a v a l de Q u e b e c " i n i t s p r e s e n t f o r m i n t h e m i d 1950 ' s . In 1894, c o n t e m p o r a r i e s , i n c l u d i n g t h e w i f e o f t h e G o v e r n o r - G e n e r a l L o r d A b e r d e e n were i m p r e s s e d by the o r d e r o f t h e v a s t t h r o n g s and t h e l a c k o f any 2 s e r i o u s t r o u b l e t o mar t h e f e s t i v i t i e s . A b e r d e e n h i m s e l f made t h e s e o b s e r v a t i o n s i n a s p e e c h a t t h e c l o s e o f t h e c a r n i - v a l when he c o n g r a t u l a t e d t h e c i t y : I v e n t u r e t o s a y t h a t among t h e many c o n s p i - c u o u s l y happy f e a t u r e s o f t h e o c c a s i o n , one o f t h e most n o t a b l e , one w h i c h w i l l be remembered w i t h p e r m a n e n t s a t i s f a c t i o n , i s t h e a d m i r a b l e o r d e r w h i c h h a s b e e n m a i n t a i n e d on t h e p a r t o f t h e l a r g e c r o w d s w h i c h h a v e b e e n w i t n e s s i n g t h e s p e c t a c l e o f t h e w e e k . ' ( C h e e r s ) ' T h e r e h a s b e e n a b u n d a n t h i l a r i t y and c h e e r f u l n e s s b u t a g e n e r a l m a i n t e n a n c e o f s e l f - c o n t r o l and a p p r o p r i a t e c o n d u c t , and t h u s Quebec has s e t an e x a m p l e w h i c h may w e l l be f o l l o w e d , s h o w i n g how p e o p l e c a n be m e r r y and c h e e r f u l w i t h o u t i n d u l g i n g i n t h a t w h i c h w o u l d be i n c o n s i s t e n t w i t h d u t y and s e l f - r e s p e c t . '.(Renewed C h e e r s ) ' 3 The f a c t t h a t t h e p r e s s d i d n o t r e p o r t d i s t u r b a n c e s o r e p i s o d e s o f d r u n k e n n e s s a t a t i m e o f y e a r when t h e C h u r c h and S t a t e had t r a d i t i o n a l l y h a d good r e a s o n t o e x p e c t b o t h , i s s t r i k i n g . L o r d A b e r d e e n may have b e e n e x p r e s s i n g , i m p l i - c i t l y , a V i c t o r i a n i d e a l a b o u t p u b l i c l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s , b u t i n Quebec C i t y i n 1894, r e a l i t y and i d e a l seem t o have m e r g e d . T h i s was a v e r y d i f f e r e n t k i n d o f c a r n i v a l t h a n t h e t r a d i t i o n a l p r e - L e n t e n d e b a u c h o f p r e - m o d e r n E u r o p e , i f f o r no o t h e r r e a s o n t h a n t h e f a c t t h a t i t e n j o y e d o f f i c i a l a p p r o v a l . G o v e r n - - 3 - merit a p p r o v a l was due i n p a r t t o t h e G o v e r n o r - G e n e r a l ' s l e a d i n g r o l e i n t h e i m p o r t a n t e v e n t s o f the c a r n i v a l , w i t h the huge s u p p o r t i n g c a s t o f o r d i n a r y c i t i z e n s and t o u r i s t s a c t i n g as s p e c t a t o r s . F o r example, h i s a r r i v a l was one o f the major e v e n t s a t t h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h e c a r n i v a l . A p a r t from a number o f hockey games, snowshoe c o m p e t i t i o n s and c u r l i n g matches by teams o f w e a l t h y c i t i z e n s , o t h e r c a r n i v a l e v e n t s i n c l u d e d a costume b a l l , t h e Grand B a l l i n honour o f t h e G o v e r n o r - G e n e r a l h e l d i n the P a r l i a m e n t B u i l d i n g and a t t e n d e d by t h e s o c i a l l y and p o l i t i c a l l y p r o m i n e n t , and the s t o r m i n g o f t h e i c e p a l a c e . Events t h a t r e q u i r e d t h e p a r t i c i p a t i o n o f lower c l a s s p e o p l e were "The A l l e g o r i c a l D r i v e " i n which some o f the t r a d e s o f t h e c i t y i n c l u d i n g t h e f i r e m e n , t h e f e r r y men and the d r i v e r s o f t h e o l d c i t y water c a r t s e n t e r e d s y m b o l i c v e h i c l e s , but t h e g e n e r a l tone was upper c l a s s . I c e s c u l p t u r e s o f f i g u r e s from F r e n c h Canadian h i s t o r y , by t h e famous c a r v e r J o b i n which adorned v a r i o u s p a r t s o f the Upper Town, were one o f t h e few e x p l i c i t l y F r e n c h Canadian e l e m e n t s . Many members o f t h e Quebec g a r r i s o n a l s o p a r t i c i p a t e d i n the s p o r t s e v e n t s , t h e s o c i e t y b a l l s , t h e p u b l i c s p e c t a c l e s and p r o v i d e d much o f t h e music f o r t h e s e a f f a i r s . The o r g a n i z e r s a l s o a d v e r t i s e d t h e c a r n i v a l i n Canada and t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s as a t o u r i s t a t t r a c t i o n and so l a r g e numbers o f v i s i t o r s a r r i v e d d a i l y by r a i l t o f i l l t h e h o t e l s , e s p e c i a l l y the newly completed Chateau F r o n t e n a c . ^ - 4 - In 1894, t h i s c a r n i v a l was i m p o r t a n t t o the c i t i z e n s . , o f Quebec C i t y , though a modern r e a d e r might j u s t i f i a b l y q u e s t i o n i t s h i s t o r i c a l i m p o r t a n c e , e s p e c i a l l y s i n c e n o t h i n g out o f the o r d i n a r y a p p a r e n t l y t o o k p l a c e . N e v e r t h e l e s s a s t u d y o f t h i s a p p a r e n t l y f r i v o l o u s event w i l l r e v e a l a g r e a t number o f t h i n g s about t h e Quebec C i t y o f 1894 and w i l l add t o t h e u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f i t s c u l t u r a l and s o c i a l h i s t o r y . Three b a s i c q u e s t i o n s a r i s e a t once. The f i r s t c o n c e r n s the r e l a t i o n s h i p o f t h i s c a r n i v a l t o t h e o l d e r c e l e - b r a t i o n s , o f t h e p e o p l e o f t h e c i t y , and why t h e o l d e r c a r n i v a l was no l o n g e r b e i n g c e l e b r a t e d i n i t s t r a d i t i o n a l F r e n c h form. The second c o n c e r n s who was i n v o l v e d i n the o r g a n i z a t i o n and c e l e b r a t i o n o f t h i s new c a r n i v a l and f o r what purposes t h e c e l e b r a t i o n was r e v i v e d . I t w i l l be n e c e s s a r y t o l o o k a t p a r t i c i p a t i o n and t o note how t h i s r e f l e c t e d t h e s o c i a l and economic r e a l i t i e s o f t h e c i t y i n the l a s t decade o f the n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y . An u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f the c a r n i v a l ' s s e t t i n g i s t h e r e f o r e n e c e s s a r y i n o r d e r t o u n d e r s t a n d the c a r n i v a l i t s e l f . I n t h a t s e n s e , t h e c a r n i v a l becomes a " t e x t " superimposed upon a s o c i a l " c o n t e x t " , a way o f r e a d i n g t h e 5 s o c i e t y i t s e l f . By c o n t r a s t , t o the a s s e r t i o n t h a t , f o r example a s t r i k e b r i n g s out most c l e a r l y s o c i a l i n t e r r e l a t i o n - s h i p s i n a community by e m p h a s i z i n g t h e c l e a v a g e between d i f f e r e n t c l a s s e s , t h i s s t u d y ' s approach i s t h a t the c e l e b r a - t i o n Of t h e s t a t u s quo, r e v e a l s how s o c i a l consensus i s g e n e r a t e d , or m a i n t a i n e d and s o c i a l d i v i s i o n s seem t o .„. - 5 - d i s a p p e a r . The s t u d y o f s t r i k e s i s a r e w a r d i n g way t o observe t h e temporary b r e a k i n g down o f t h i s consensus, but a t any g i v e n time t h i s breakdown a f f e c t s o n l y a s m a l l number o f p e o p l e and f o r a v e r y s h o r t t i m e . I t i s t h e o t h e r mechanisms i n a community t h a t have a f a r more permanent a f f e c t upon the f o r m i n g and acceptance o f s o c i a l v a l u e s . T h i s l e a d s i n e v i t a b l y t o t h e q u e s t i o n o f " s o c i a l c o n t r o l " , t h a t i s the c o n t r o l o r m o d i f i c a t i o n o f o b j e c t i o n a b l e b e h a v i o u r by t h e more concerned o r a r t i c u l a t e members o f "the r u l i n g c l a s s " . These a t t e m p t s a t s o c i a l c o n t r o l range a l l t h e way from t h e temperance movement t o the s o c i e t y f o r the p r e v e n t i o n o f c r u e l t y t o a n i m a l s . There i s a c e r t a i n d i f f i c u l t y i n b r i n g i n g t o g e t h e r i n a s t u d y o f a l e i s u r e a c t i v i t y l i k e t h e c a r n i v a l t h e c o n c e p t s o f work, l e i s u r e and c l a s s . On t h e one hand, the r e l a t i o n s h i p between a l l t h r e e appears a b u n d a n t l y c l e a r , i f a t t i m e s a l i t t l e o v e r s i m p l i f i e d ; o r a t l e a s t o v e r s t a t e d : t h a t t h e i d e a s and c u l t u r a l v a l u e s o f t h e r u l i n g c l a s s , because o f t h e economic and s o c i a l hegemony o f t h a t c l a s s , become t h e i d e a s and v a l u e s o f a l l o t h e r c l a s s e s i n t h e community, making most p e o p l e p a s s i v e o b s e r v e r s and e n s u r i n g t h e i r adherence t o t h e s o c i a l s t a t u s quo. As a g e n e r a l s t a t e m e n t , t h i s may o r may not be t r u e , but i n t h e p a r t i c u l a r case o f t h e c a r n i v a l , as i t has been c e l e b r a t e d , the s i t u a t i o n i s more ambiguous. On the one hand, i t can be seen as an i n s t r u m e n t o f s o c i a l c o n t r o l by the r u l i n g c l a s s , a s h o r t p e r i o d when the r u l e s o f t h e community are suspended and when r i t u a l i n v e r s i o n o f t h e s o c i a l o r d e r r e i n f o r c e s t h e - 6 - 7 everyday world. Or, i t can be seen as the temporary l e v e l l e r of c l a s s b a r r i e r s or even an instrument to undermine them. Of course t h a t depends l e s s on the c a r n i v a l than on the community. When a community c e l e b r a t e s c a r n i v a l i t i s i n a very r e a l sense r e a f f i r m i n g i t s v a l u e s . Thus the c e l e b r a t i o n o f a community event, a 'f§te l i k e the c a r n i v a l , i s not a d e l i b e r a t e departure from the d a i l y rhythm of " o r d i n a r y " l i f e . Instead, i t can be seen as r e i n f o r c i n g i t : "un temps f o r t " , a s a v o i r comme un evenement s p e c i a l dont on prend conscience e t par l e q u e l l e s p a r t i c i - - 8 pants se sentent concernes en t a n t que c o l l e c t i v i t e . . . " While a. c u l t u r e might be l a r g e l y composed of the s o - c a l l e d " o r d i n a r y " , even i n d i v i d u a l aspects of l i f e , the temps f o r t s make up the l a r g e r c o l l e c t i v i t y ' s d e f i n i t i o n of i t s e l f , where the c u l t u r e "se manifeste e t se r e c o n n a i t a ses propres yeux" and where each member sees h i m s e l f as p a r t of a coherent 9 whole. The way t h a t the c e l e b r a t i o n of c a r n i v a l changed i n Quebec, then, would i n d i c a t e some of the changes i n the c u l t u r e as a whole. The o l d e r c a r n i v a l s were based on a coherent r u r a l community, but with the i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n i n the l a t t e r p a r t of the n i n e t e e n t h century, a process of c u l t u r a l t r a n s - formation began. The people m i g r a t i n g from the Quebec c o u n t r y s i d e to work i n the f a c t o r i e s of Quebec C i t y and Montreal were l i k e immigrants to the i n d u s t r i a l work s i t u a t i o n which c o n f r o n t e d them. In Herbert Gutman's words, t h e i r - 7 - response can be d e s c r i b e d as b e i n g "shaped by t h e i n t e r a c t i o n between t h e i r c u l t u r e o f o r i g i n and the p a r t i c u l a r s o c i e t y i n t o w h i c h t h e y e n t e r ( e d ) " . J u s t as W.I. Thomas, i n a s i m i l a r c o n t e x t , o b s e r v e d t h a t t h e f u n c t i o n o f A m e r i c a n i z a t i o n i n Gutman 1 s s t u d y was "the d e s t r u c t i o n o f memories" f a c t o r y d i s c i p l i n e can be seen t o have had the same e f f e c t c u l t u r a l l y : t h e d e s t r u c t i o n o f o l d customs and t h e i r r e p l a c e - ment w i t h new ones more s u i t e d t o the new environment. T h i s i s t h e w o r k i n g out o f a p r o c e s s , t h e i n t e r r e l a t i o n s h i p and t e n s i o n between p r e - i n d u s t r i a l s o c i e t y and i n d u s t r i a l s o c i e t y , 12 a l s o been c a l l e d " m o d e r n i z a t i o n " . Quebec C i t y a t t h e end o f t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y i s an e x c e l l e n t p l a c e t o s t u d y t h e w o r k i n g out o f t h i s p r o c e s s o f t r a n s f o r m a t i o n . - I t s c a r n i v a l c e l e b r a t i o n s o f 1894 and 1896 i m i t a t e d and even s u r p a s s e d , i f l o c a l o p i n i o n i s t o be b e l i e v e d , the b r i l l i a n t l y - s u c c e s s f u l r e v i v a l s o f mardi gras c e l e b r a t i o n s i n M o n t r e a l from 1883 t o 1889. At t h e same t i m e , i n p l a c e s such as T r i n i d a d and New O r l e a n s whose c a r n i v a l c e l e b r a t i o n s s t i l l s u r v i v e , s i m i l a r r e v i v a l s were o c c u r r i n g a f t e r p e r i o d s o f n e g l e c t , w h i l e i n Europe f o l k l o r i s t s were 13 r e c o r d i n g t h e d e c l i n e o f f o l k c u l t u r e . I I . M a r k e t i n g t h e P a s t The p a s s i n g o f some o f t h e o l d ways i n Quebec as w e l l d i d not go u n n o t i c e d o r unlamented o n l y by t h e o r d i n a r y p e o p l e most a f f e c t e d . W h i l e t h e o l d c a r n i v a l , i t w i l l be seen, had - 8 - few, i f any, a r t i c u l a t e d e f e n d e r s among the e d u c a t e d , t h e r e were o t h e r a p p e a l i n g customs whose p a s s i n g was r e g r e t t e d , as s e v e r i n g a n e c e s s a r y l i n k w i t h t h e p a s t . The l a t e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y p r o v i d e d , e s p e c i a l l y i n M o n t r e a l and Quebec C i t y , w h a t might s i m p l y be c a l l e d a r e c e p t i v e " p s y c h o l o g i c a l c l i m a t e " f o r i n t e r e s t i n p a s t customs. I t e x p r e s s e d i t s e l f p a r t l y i n t h e lament f o r t h e l o s s o f t h e "bon v i e u x temps" o f t h e bygone r u r a l community on the p a r t o f urban w r i t e r s : Dans l e bon v i e u x temps, c e t t e fe^te e t a i t / 7 c e l € b r e e dans presque t o u t e s l e s maisons c a n a d i e n n e s . C ' e t a i t un j o u r de grande l i e s s e . Le t r a v a i l e t a i t suspendu e t l e p l a i s i r e t a i t p a r t o u t a l ' o r d r e du j o u r . . . L a s o i r e e e t l a n u i t e n t i e r e e t a i e n t c o n s a c r e e s a l a danse. Tout l e monde s a u t a i t , l e s v i e u x comme l e s : j e u n e s , au son du v i o l o n e t de l a c l a r i n e t t e . . . Au d i r e des p l u s v i e u x c i t o y e n s de M o n t r e a l , l a c e l e b r a t i o n de c e t t e f e t e (25 novembre) r e m o n t a i t au temps de l e u r s a n c e t r e s . ^ T h i s p a r t i c u l a r f e s t i v a l , " l a S a i n t e C a t h e r i n e " , had been a t r a d i t i o n a l m a r r i a g e and c o u r t s h i p h o l i d a y . H.P. LeMay, w r i t i n g i n t h e same p e r i o d , a l s o e u l o g i z e d the "good o l d days", lamented t h e i r p a s s i n g , but l o o k e d t o t h e r e v i v a l o f o l d customs t o s t r e n g t h e n t h e bonds o f t h e modern community growing up around him. The d e c l i n e i n numbers o f p u b l i c h o l i d a y s and f e s t i v a l s a t t h e t i m e , a p r o c e s s begun i n e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r y New France,was a cause o f c o n c e r n f o r him because he l i n k e d t h a t t o t h e d e c l i n e i n community s p i r i t and c o h e s i v e n e s s o f e a r l i e r t i m e s . F o r him, p u b l i c f e s t i v a l s were l i k e f a m i l y g a t h e r i n g s , l i n k i n g the body o f t h e community 15 t o g e t h e r i n t h e same way t h a t a f a m i l y i s l i n k e d t o g e t h e r . - 9 - He a l s o b e l i e v e d t h a t i t was, above a l l , i n i t s c h o i c e o f amusements t h a t a p e o p l e most g e n u i n e l y r e v e a l e d i t s c h a r a c t e r , and i f t h o s e c e l e b r a t i o n s changed, i t was because the p e o p l e t h e m s e l v e s had changed. He was i m p r e c i s e about t h e r e a s o n s f o r t h e changes i n the community, and he c e r t a i n l y never a l l u d e d t o t h e massive s o c i a l and economic changes o c c u r r i n g i n t h e s o c i e t y o f Quebec a t the t i m e , i n s t e a d a t t r i b u t i n g t h i s t o : ...un b r i n de flegme dans l ' a i r que nous r e s p i r o n s , dans l a n a t u r e severe q u i s'etend . .. sous nos yeux, dans l e f r o i d q u i nous e n g o u r d i t e t dans l a f r e q u e n t a t i o n des A n g l a i s q u i nous e n t o u r e . . . He r e j o i c e d t h a t t h e p e r i o d was w i t n e s s i n g a r e v i v a l o f t h e o l d customs, even i f t h e y t o o k new forms, as was the case w i t h the summer f e a s t o f S a i n t John t h e B a p t i s t , f o r m e r l y a f e s t i v a l o f summer c e l e b r a t e d w i t h huge b o n f i r e s and r e j o i c - i n g . I n 1834 t h i s had become a c e l e b r a t i o n o f n a t i o n a l i s m so t h a t l e S a i n t - J e a n - B a p t i s t e was now f o r him, "L 1 e x p r e s s i o n heureuse C f o r t e a d m i r a b l e des s e n t i m e n t s d 1 amour e t de f o i , de p a t r i o t i s m e e t de r e l i g i o n du C a n a d a - f r a n c a i s " , as i t i s 17 t o d a y , w i t h t h e r e l i g i o u s element i n e c l i p s e . One o f t h e i n t e r e s t i n g t h i n g s about t h e d i s c u s s i o n o f t h e p a s t and about l e i s u r e was t h e f a c t t h a t b o t h F r e n c h and E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g Quebeckers were i n v o l v e d . T h i s i s n o t t o say t h a t t h e y were s p e a k i n g t o each o t h e r about t h e s e i s s u e s , f o r t h e tone o f commentary i n t h e F r e n c h and E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g p r e s s i n d i c a t e d one group was not a f f e c t e d by t h e - 10 - o t h e r . I t i s s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t b o t h were d e a l i n g w i t h t h e i d e a t h a t the community needed t o b e n e f i t from l e i s u r e . For the F r e n c h C a n a d i a n s , l e i s u r e and p u b l i c f e s t i v a l s were means t o s t r e n g t h e n community and s o c i a l bonds,and t h e r e b y t o ensure the c o n t i n u e d s u r v i v a l o f t h e community. For E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g commentators, moments o f r e c r e a t i o n made one work h a r d e r and b e t t e r . G o v e r n o r - G e n e r a l L o r d Landsdowne 1 s speech a t the M o n t r e a l W i n t e r C a r n i v a l i n 1884 i s an e x c e l l e n t i l l u s t r a t i o n o f t h i s Anglo-Saxon approach which formed the dominant element i n a l l t h e c a r n i v a l s : N e i t h e r t h e n a t i o n nor the i n d i v i d u a l can e x i s t w i t h o u t r e c r e a t i o n . Amid the s t r a i n and p r e s s u r e o f l i f e whether our h a b i t u a l v o c a t i o n c a l l s us t o the f i e l d , o r t o the c i t y , t o the desk o r t o the b a r , t o t h e L e g i s l a t u r e o r t o .:. t h e s t u d y , the r e c r e a t i o n w h i c h s h a l l g i v e s t r e n g t h t o t h e i n t e l l e c t u a l f i b r e — w h i c h s h a l l bury the monotony o f our d a i l y e x i s t e n c e — w h i c h s h a l l g i v e r e f r e s h m e n t t o t h e j a d e d , body and t h e overwrought mind — w h i c h s h a l l r e n d e r our y o u t h manly and a c t i v e and our m a t u r i t y v i g o r o u s and r o b u s t i s an n e c e s s a r y t o us as t h e a i r we b r e a t h e . ' (Applause)18 P a r t o f t h i s may be a t t r i b u t a b l e t o Landsdowne's B r i t i s h background and t o t h e changes i n t h e n a t u r e and p e r c e p - t i o n o f l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s i n B r i t a i n o v e r the c o u r s e o f t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y . I t would be perhaps m i s l e a d i n g t o t r e a t 19 t h e s e views as e n t i r e l y r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f Canadian o p i n i o n . There were o t h e r , and perhaps more i n f l u e n t i a l , c u r r e n t s o f thought t h a t were o p e r a t i n g a t t h e time and t h e y a l s o seem t o have i n f l u e n c e d E n g l i s h Canadians, e s p e c i a l l y t h e E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g m i n o r i t y i n Quebec and M o n t r e a l . These - 11 - l o o k e d t o Quebec's p a s t and a l s o a t r u r a l Quebec, s e e k i n g an A r c a d i a n a l t e r n a t i v e t o urban i n d u s t r i a l s o c i e t y . These p e o p l e i d e a l i z e d t h e r u r a l peasant l i f e o f Quebec and b e l i e v e d t h a t i t had been t r a n s p l a n t e d i n t o the c i t i e s ; t h e y i g n o r e d t h e p o v e r t y o f t h e i n d u s t r i a l c e n t r e s l i k e M o n t r e a l and Quebec, as w e l l as much o f t h e m i s e r y o f t h e c o u n t r y s i d e . What became a s t a p l e o f many l a t e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y t r a v e l g u i d e s and p o p u l a r h i s t o r i e s was a r u r a l , C a t h o l i c , o l d F r e n c h Quebec t o which urban P r o t e s t a n t m i d d l e c l a s s Americans and E n g l i s h Canadians f e l t c o m p e l l i n g l y drawn on t h e i r summer v a c a t i o n s and which t h e y a l s o attempted t o i n t e r p r e t t o t h e i r f r i e n d s and c o n t e m p o r a r i e s . A good example o f t h i s p o p u l a r l i t e r a t u r e was W i l l i a m P a r k e r Greenough's Canadian F o l k - L i f e and F o l k - Lore which p u r p o r t e d t o d e s c r i b e , "from a l o n g time o f r e s i d e n c e and o b s e r v a t i o n " , "My f r i e n d s , t h e h a b i t a n t s o f Canada, t h e i r o c c u p a t i o n s , amusements, songs, language and 20 n a t i o n a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s " . Among F r e n c h Canadians as w e l l , t h e a g r a r i a n b i a s o f C a t h o l i c n a t i o n a l i s m produced an ~ e q u a l l y r o m a n t i c view o f r u r a l l i f e . T h i s found one e x p r e s - s i o n i n H e n r i Bourassa's r e j e c t i o n o f the g o l d e n c a l f o f i n d u s t r i a l i s m . ^ What i s i m p o r t a n t here i s not o n l y the presence o r l e v e l o f a c c u r a c y o f t h i s l i t e r a t u r e , f o r even, as l a t e as t h e 1970's t h e c a s u a l American v i s i t o r would assume an i n s t a n t 22 u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f Quebec and i t s customs, but t h i s l i t e r a t u r e formed the N o r t h American m i d d l e c l a s s a u d i e n c e ' s views o f - 12 - Quebec. J u s t as i m p o r t a n t was t h e m a r k e t i n g o f t h i s f o l k l o r e by a d e v e l o p i n g t o u r i s t i n d u s t r y . Thus a community f e s t i v a l o f t h e p a s t , l i k e the c a r n i v a l , was t u r n e d i n t o a huge p u b l i c s p e c t a c l e whose s u c c e s s o r f a i l u r e was measured by t h e presence o f numbers o f o u t s i d e r s such as Americans. The r a i l r o a d s made i t p o s s i b l e t o h o l d such f e s t i v a l s , even i n w i n t e r , f o r p e o p l e 23 l i v i n g more t h a n t h i r t y m i l e s away. By t h e 1880's, i t i s apparent t h a t t o u r i s t a p p e a l was a s t a n d a r d f o r s u c c e s s . T h i s marked the b e g i n n i n g o f a d e l i b e r a t e and e f f e c t i v e " m a r k e t i n g " o f t h e most a t t r a c t i v e elements o f F r e n c h Canada's p a s t — t h e b e g i n n i n g o f a t o u r i s t i n d u s t r y . What happens t o p o p u l a r c u l t u r e when elements are s e l e c t e d and reshaped t o a t t r a c t t o u r i s t s ? T h i s d i s t o r t i o n , i t c o u l d be argued, w i l l have an e f f e c t on t h e way i n w h i c h t h e community, whose c u l t u r e i s b e i n g e x p l o i t e d , sees i t s e l f . The b r o a d e r i m p l i c a t i o n s o f t a i l o r i n g , o r d r a s t i c a l l y c h a n g i n g t h e customs and p r a c t i c e s o f a community's c u l t u r e r e s u l t e d , even a t t h e t i m e , i n some s e c t i o n s o f t h e community, t h e b u s i n e s s men, u s i n g i t as a market f o r t h e i r own g a i n . Thus i t was no l o n g e r a q u e s t i o n o f c e l e b r a t i n g a n c i e n t community r i t e s whose r o o t s went back i n t o i t s c o l l e c t i v e h e r i t a g e w h i c h may have i n t e r e s t e d o u t s i d e r s but whose p r e s e n c e was p e r i p h e r a l t o t h e e v e n t . Now'it was a q u e s t i o n o f d e v e l o p i n g a r e a s o n t o a t t r a c t o u t s i d e r s i n l a r g e enough numbers so t h a t t h e p a r t i c i p a t i o n o f t h e non-commercial elements o f t h e l o c a l - 13 - community became u n n e c e s s a r y . I n f i g u r a t i v e terms, t h i s d e v e l o p i n g t o u r i s t i n d u s t r y c o u l d be seen as t u r n i n g s o c i a l cement i n t o s o c i a l s o l v e n t by a p p e a l i n g t o t h e community's need f o r c o n n e c t i o n w i t h i t s p a s t i n o r d e r t o j u s t i f y s e l l i n g i t on t h e open market. W i n t e r was c u s t o m a r i l y t h e season f o r s o c i a l i z i n g and l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s i n F r e n c h Canada; what t h e g e n e r a t i o n o f t h e 1880's and 1890's was t r y i n g t o do was t o draw o u t s i d e r s i n t o t h i s c y c l e . I n the same way the P a r i s i a n s would t u r n t h e i r sewer system and some o f t h e i r f a c t o r i e s t o t h e same good account a t t h e same t i m e , p r o v i d i n g a t o u r i s t - v . . 25 " e x p e r i e n c e " . The c a r n i v a l s / a s r e v i v a l s o f t h e community customs o f t h e p a s t a p p e a l e d t o the F r e n c h Canadian community f o r t h e i r c u l t u r a l b e n e f i t s , and t o the E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g p a r t o f t h e b u s i n e s s community f o r t h e f i n a n c i a l b e n e f i t s from the p r e s e n c e o f thousands o f s t r a n g e r s . For a time t h e c u l t u r a l and t h e c o m m e r c i a l c o u l d c o - e x i s t , and a f u s i o n o f A n c i e n t and Modern was t e m p o r a r i l y o b t a i n e d . I l l . C i v i l i z i n g t h e C a r n i v a l Of c o u r s e not a l l t h e s t r a n d s o f t h i s p o p u l a r c u l t u r e were r e p r e s e n t e d i n t h e r e v i v e d c a r n i v a l s , and the concept o f a r e v i v e d c e l e b r a t i o n i m p l i e s t h a t c a r n i v a l had o n l y been dormant, not abandoned. There i s ample e v i d e n c e t o show t h a t t h e c e l e b r a t i o n o f c a r n i v a l i n i t s o l d e r form had been c e n s u r e d by l e a d i n g c i t i z e n s and even t h a t a t t e m p t s a t s u p r e s s i o n were - 14 - a t l a s t s u c c e s s f u l . I n F e b r u a r y , 1866, on t h e day b e f o r e mardi g r a s , t h e Quebec Mercury a l l u d e d t o t h e l e g a l p e n a l t i e s f o r i t s c e l e b r a t i o n : Steps a r e b e i n g t a k e n t o arm and r e i n f o r c e the p o l i c e t o p r e v e n t parades o f masked and . armed p e o p l e such as have o f l a t e y e a r s , made a p r a c t i c e o f e n t e r i n g houses and i n t i m i d a t i n g t h e i r i n m a t e s . The law on t h i s p o i n t i s s e v e r e and p r o p e r l y so and i t w i l l we b e l i e v e h e r e a f t e r be more s t r i c t l y e n f o r c e d t h a n f o r m e r l y . 2 ^ T h i s by-law had o n l y been passed the p r e v i o u s December 22nd by t h e C i t y C o u n c i l o f Quebec C i t y and p r o v i d e d f o r a f i n e o f up t o f o r t y d o l l a r s o r imprisonment a t hard l a b o u r f o r up t o two months f o r anyone, who, on each o f f e n s e , might " d i s t u r b , w i t h o u t l a w f u l c a u s e , t h e p e a c e a b l e i n h a b i t a n t s r e s i d i n g i n any s t r e e t ; o r s h a l l be masked o r d i s g u i s e d by ; day o r by n i g h t i n any s t r e e t ; o r . . . s h a l l knock a t any door, window o r s h u t t e r . . . o r s h a l l cause o r make any t u m u l t , n o i s e , - d i s o r d e r or d i s t u r b a n c e , or s h a l l form t h a t p a r t o f any tumultuous assemblage i n any p l a c e whatsoever, i n any house, 27 b u i l d i n g o r p l a c e , e n c l o s e d o r u n e n c l o s e d . . . " A p p a r e n t l y t h e law and t h e j u d i c i a r y were e f f e c t i v e i n d i s c o u r a g i n g what the Mercury c a l l e d "the i m p r o p r i e t y o f t h e s e modern t u r n o u t s " ; i n t h e Recorder's C o u r t on t h e day a f t e r mardi g r a s and f o r s e v e r a l days t h e r e a f t e r o n l y one case o f c a r n i v a l ... b e h a v i o u r came b e f o r e i t : MARDIGRAS - Only one M a r d i g r a s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e ... came up, v i z : Samuel R o c h f o r d , a young boy h a v i n g h i s f a c e b l a c k e n e d i n Defosses S t r e e t . He was f i n e d $2 and c o s t s o r f o u r days. He was l o c k e d up. 2 8 - 15 - I t i s e v i d e n t t h a t t h e m a g i s t r a t e s frowned on t h i s k i n d o f t r a d i t i o n , but i t i s not c l e a r why. I t i s p o s s i b l e t h a t i t was p a r t o f an a s s a u l t on p o p u l a r t r a d i t i o n s i n t h e name o f m i d d l e c l a s s m o r a l i t y o r e l s e , seen i n t h e c o n t e x t o f o t h e r c i t y r e g u l a t i o n s o f t h e .time, as p a r t o f a d e s i r e t o r e g u l a t e p u b l i c and p r i v a t e b e h a v i o u r i n o r d e r t o make t h e c i t y i t s e l f r u n more e f f i c i e n t l y . At t h e same time as t h i s by-law "For t h e Good Order and Peace o f the C i t y o f Quebec" was passed and used a g a i n s t m a r d i gras r e v e l l e r s , the C o u n c i l a l s o passed by-laws r e g u l a t i n g , but not b a n n i n g , "House o f p r o s t i t u t i o n , houses o f i l l - f a m e , d i s o r d e r l y houses and 29 t a v e r n s " . From o t h e r s o u r c e s , however, i t i s c l e a r t h a t i f e f f e c t i v e o p p o s i t i o n t o t r a d i t i o n a l c a r n i v a l b e h a v i o u r was a phenomenon o f t h e m i d - V i c t o r i a n p e r i o d , t h e c e l e b r a t i o n and c l e r i c a l d i s a p p r o v a l b o t h had deep r o o t s i n Quebec. The c a r n i v a l season i n New France had been a time o f g r e a t c e l e b r a t i o n and r e j o i c i n g though i t i s u n c e r t a i n when i t was f i r s t c e l e b r a t e d i n t h e c o l o n y . A c c o r d i n g t o t h e e a r l y t w e n t i e t h - c e n t u r y Quebec f o l k l o r i s t E.Z. M a s s i c o t t e , who o b t a i n e d h i s i n f o r m a t i o n from t h e J o u r n a l des J e s u i t e s , i t u s u a l l y began e i g h t days b e f o r e Ash Wednesday and ended a t m i d n i g h t Tuesday, mardi g r a s . The f i r s t mention o f i t s c e l e b r a t i o n i s i n 16 4 7 when t h e J o u r n a l mentions t h a t t h e r e was "un b a l e t . ...... l e mercredy g r a s " . ^ ^ I t i s q u i t e p o s s i b l e t h a t t h e r e were e a r l i e r c e l e b r a t i o n s i n New France and t h e - 16 - custom was so i n g r a i n e d t h a t i t was c o n s i d e r e d s u p e r f l u o u s t o mention i t . In New F r a n c e , as e l s e w h e r e , t h e upper c l a s s e s and t h e i r s o c i a l i n f e r i o r s b o t h c e l e b r a t e d c a r n i v a l and t h a t t h e s i n g l e d i s s e n t i n g v o i c e was -that o f t h e Church, w h i c h t h r o u g h o u t t h e y e a r s remained c o n s i s t e n t i n i t s o p p o s i t i o n . R o b e r t - L i o n e l S e g u i n t e l l s t h e s t o r y o f t h e I n t e n d a n t B i g o t ' s mardi gras c e l e b r a t i o n i n l 7 4 9 w h i c h l a s t e d a l l n i g h t and ended a t seven t h i r t y on Ash Wednesday morning. B i g o t ' s attempt t o have t h e Ash Wednesday s e r v i c e advanced from e l e v e n i n t h e morning t o seven i n t h e morning so t h a t h i s g u e s t s c o u l d f i n i s h t h e i r p a r t y , r e c e i v e t h e i r ashes and t h e n go home t o s l e e p r e c e i v e d a r a t h e r f r o s t y r e c e p t i o n from t h e 31 p r i e s t i n q u e s t i o n . A few y e a r s l a t e r the e n g i n e e r Franquet wrote from t h e g o v e r n o r ' s palace, i n M o n t r e a l t h a t on t h e day o f mardi g r a s , _<753, "on y r e c u t l e s masque's q u i a p p o r t e r e n t 32 des momons". An e a r l y n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y E n g l i s h t r a v e l l e r a l s o found t h e p e o p l e o f t h e c o u n t r y s i d e c e l e b r a t i n g a t t h i s time o f y e a r : They (the c o u n t r y f o l k ) a r e fond o f d a n c i n g and e n t e r t a i n m e n t s a t p a r t i c u l a r seasons and f e s t i v a l s , on w h i c h o c c a s i o n s t h e y e a t , d r i n k , and dance i n c o n s t a n t s u c c e s s i o n . When t h e i r l o n g f a s t i n L e n t i s c o n c l u d e d , t h e y have t h e i r ' j o u r s g r a s ' , o r days o f f e a s t i n g . Then i t i s t h a t e v e r y p r o d u c t i o n o f t h e i r farm i s p r e s e n t e d f o r the g r a t i f i - c a t i o n o f t h e i r a p p e t i t e s ... 3 3 D r i n k p l a y e d no s m a l l p a r t i n the g r a t i f i c a t i o n o f t h e s e a p p e t i t e s and even l a t e i n t h e n i n e t e e n t h . c e n t u r y M a s s i c o t t e n o t e d t h a t among t h e customs a t S t . - S c h o l a s t i q u e - 17 - was t h a t b e f o r e mardi g r a s , t h e l a r g e b u c k e t o f water i n the main room o f the house was r e p l a c e d w i t h a l a r g e b u c k e t o f 34 b e e r . LeMay a l s o remembered t h a t a t h a b i t a n t p a r t i e s d u r i n g c a r n i v a l time when ' i l f a i t f r o i d e t l ' o n prend une v e r r e de g i n pour se r e c h a u f f e r ; s ' i l ne f a i s a i t pas f r o i d , on en 35 p r e n d r a i t quand-meme..." I n t h e Beauce r e g i o n s o u t h o f Quebec C i t y , t h e t h r e e days b e f o r e Ash Wednesday were the most a c t i v e o f a l l and t h e s e c e l e b r a t i o n s are o f i n t e r e s t . They o c c u r r e d near Quebec C i t y and i n v o l v e d t h e k i n d o f b e h a v i o u r t h a t the c i t y frowned upon In 1866. On Tuesday morning d i s g u i s e s and masks were u s u a l l y completed and i n t h e e a r l y a f t e r n o o n men en t r a v e s t i , as w e l l as some women, assembled w i t h s t i c k s t o keep away the dogs and began t o make t h e rounds o f houses i n s e a r c h o f f o o d and d r i n k . N i g g a r d l y h o s t s were p u n i s h e d by t h e community. A c c o r d i n g t o one e t h n o g r a p h i c s o u r c e , " l e p e u p l e e t a i t i m p i t o y a b l e pour l e s ' b a i s e - l a - p i a s t r e 1 . I I l e s h o u s p i l l a i t e t souvent l e s m e t t a i t au ban de l a s o c i e t e . P a r f o i s on r e n v e r s a i t t a b l e s e t f a u t e u i l s en 3 6 c h a n t a n t des c o u p l e t s i r o n i q u e s . . . " The whole p o i n t o f the e x e r c i s e was t o remain masked and t o p r o v i d e e n t e r t a i n m e n t f o r the masquers and t h e p e o p l e w a t c h i n g them. However, t h e s e community get t o g e t h e r s were not o n l y f r i v o l o u s e n t e r t a i n m e n t s but a l s o o c c a s i o n s t o e x p r e s s t h e c o l l e c t i v e i d e n t i t y . T h i s was done t h r o u g h s u p p o r t i n g community s t a n d a r d s f o r s o c i a l b e h a v i o u r (marriage and g e n e r o s i t y ) o r a p p l y i n g p u n i t i v e 37 s a n c t i o n s ( s t i n g i n e s s ) . - I n t h i s r e g a r d , a d i s c r i m i n a t o r y - 18 - a s p e c t o f t h i s custom was t h e p o p u l a r d i s a p p r o v a l o f female p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n some o f t h e s e mummeries. She who f l o u t e d custom r a n t h e r i s k o f b e i n g known as ' h a r d i e ' i f not down- r i g h t 'coureuse' and bore such e p i t h e t s f o r t h e r e s t o f the 38 y e a r . T h e p e r s i s t e n c e o f c a r n i v a l c e l e b r a t i o n s i n Europe and New France t h u s r e s t e d upon a f u n c t i o n a l f o u n d a t i o n t h a t was r e l a t e d t o t h e c o l l e c t i v e s o c i a l needs o f t h e community, a community w h i c h was p r e d o m i n a n t l y a g r i c u l t u r a l . C l o s e l y t i e d t o t h e a g r i c u l t u r a l y e a r , w h i c h was s e a s o n a l , t h e c y c l i c a l r e l i g i o u s c a l e n d a r complemented t h a t p r e - i n d u s t r i a l s e a s o n a l 39 rhythm. For i n s t a n c e , c a r n i v a l time i s c e l e b r a t e d near the end o f w i n t e r , j u s t as E a s t e r i s c e l e b r a t e d near t h e b e g i n n i n g o f S p r i n g , t h e f i r e s o f S t . - J e a n a t t h e summer s o l s t i c e , A l l S a i n t s ' Day i n autumn, and t h e t w e l v e days o f C h r i s t m a s , New Year and Epiphany ( l e s R o i s ) i n t h e w i n t e r . The p e r i o d o f Carnava 1 -Care^me was the p e r i o d o f f e a s t i n g and r e v e l r y a t the end o f w i n t e r when i t was p e r m i t t e d t o e a t meat and c e l e b r a t e u n t i l Ash Wednesday. On t h a t day, f o r t y days b e f o r e E a s t e r , a p e r i o d o f t o t a l a b s t i n e n c e from meat and o t h e r p l e a s u r e s began, and, as had been t h e C a t h o l i c custom f o r c e n t u r i e s , "pendant l a q u e l l e r e g n e n t p l u s i e u r s i n t e r d i c t i o n s , a l i m e n t a i r e s 40 s u r t o u t , mais a u s s i s e x u e l l e s V i ! Halfway t h r o u g h L e n t t h e r e was a s h o r t s u s p e n s i o n o f t h e r i g o r s o f f a s t i n g and a b s t i n e n c e known as t h e Mi-Carerne w h i c h i n F r e n c h Canada was c h a r a c t e r i z e d by l a r g e f e a s t s a t home and i n t h e Beauce, i t was t h e time t o i - 19 - b e g i n maple s u g a r i n g . E a s t e r w i t h i t s o u t b u r s t o f j o y , i t s end t o s e l f - d e n i a l , and t h e r e t u r n o f s p r i n g marked the end o f t h e w i n t e r c y c l e . I n Europe, C a r n i v a l i t s e l f was o f t e n p e r s o n i f i e d , sometimes as a man o f s t r a w , sometimes n o t , and a b u r l e s q u e b a t t l e between him and L e n t was p l a y e d out i n w h i c h he would 41 be a l l e g o r i c a l l y v a n q u i s h e d and L e n t would t r i u m p h . There have been s e v e r a l e x p l a n a t i o n s advanced f o r the t e n a c i t y and p o p u l a r i t y o f t h e f e s t i v a l . A modern w r i t e r on t h e T r i n i d a d c a r n i v a l has n o t e d t h a t the o n l y e f f e c t i v e means t h a t the Church had i n taming i t was t o g i v e " r e l i g i o u s s a n c t i o n t o a pagan r i t e t o o p r o f o u n d l y r o o t e d i n t h e sustenance o f l i f e t o 4 2 be e f f e c t i v e l y s u p p r e s s e d " . The key t o t h e s e deep r o o t s i n p r e - i n d u s t r i a l s o c i e t y may have l a i n i n i t s b l e n d i n g o f t h e f o r c e s t h a t s u s t a i n e d l i f e i n a complex i n t e r r e l a t i o n s h i p o f the f e r t i l i t y o f p e o p l e and s o i l , t h e community, t h e c y c l e o f n a t u r e and t h e d e i t y , a l l e x p r e s s e d t h r o u g h r e v e l r y . The European e x p r e s s i o n e s p e c i a l l y i n F r a n c e , o f t e n t o o k t h e form o f " s t r e e t p r o c e s s i o n s , c o s t u m i n g and masking, music making, e n e r g e t i c d a n c i n g , s i n g i n g o f s a t i r i c o r l a u d a t o r y songs, j e s t i n g , mummery, f e a s t i n g , and g e n e r a l r e v e l r y , as w e l l as " t o r c h c a r r y i n g , b o n f i r e l i g h t i n g ( o r i g i n a l l y aimed a t p u r i f y - i n g t h e f i e l d s and f r i g h t e n i n g o f f demons, t h e r e b y e n s u r i n g a good c r o p ) , and t h e p i t c h e d b a t t l e s between c o n t e s t i n g bands, s y m b o l i c o f the s t r u g g l e between L i f e and Death, Summer and W i n t e r , New Year and O l d Y e a r , o r t h e more m y s t i c combat - 20 - 43 between t h e f o r c e s o f good and e v i l " . I t i s not s u r p r i s i n g t h a t i n more l i t e r a l o r l e s s " p o e t i c " t i m e s , l i k e Quebec i n t h e 1860's, such symbolism had l i t t l e meaning f o r urban p o l i t i c i a n s , and i t i s e v i d e n t t h a t the d i s o r d e r l y elements t h a t gave c a r n i v a l i t s l i f e would r e p e l o r o f f e n d t h e more o r d e r e d and m o r a l i s t i c minds o f t h e community. I n s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y , t h e c l e r g y not o n l y i n Quebec but a l s o i n France c e r t a i n l y f e a r e d o r d i s a p p r o v e d o f the c e l e b r a t i o n s and moved w i t h t h e c e n t r a l government t o c o n t r o l o r s u p p r e s s them. For r e m a r k a b l y s i m i l a r r e a s o n s , e i t h e r i n the name o f r e a s o n o r o f m o r a l i t y t h e F r e n c h p r e - R e v o l u t i o n a r y and R e v o l u t i o n a r y a u t h o r i t i e s moved t o a b o l i s h t h i s "systeme de s u r v i e " o f which t h e c a r n i v a l was a p a r t . The F r e n c h R e v o l u t i o n w h i c h , as Benjamin G a s t i n e a u so d e l i c a t e l y put i t , " v o u l a i t l a v e r i t e s u r l e v i s a g e de l'homme a u s s i b i e n que 44 dans son-coeur", a b o l i s h e d t h e c e l e b r a t i o n , and even i t s b r i e f r e v i v a l under Napoleon c o u l d not g i v e i t c r e d i b i l i t y i n t h e e a r l y n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y . W i t h the new p e r c e p t i o n t h a t t h e c a r n i v a l was not o n l y o b j e c t i o n a b l e from a m o r a l p o i n t o f v i e w but a l s o as b e i n g beneath t h e d i g n i t y o f r e a s o n a b l e men, i t l o s t some o f i t s o l d f o r c e and c r e d i b i l i t y . However, i t d i d not d i s a p p e a r and t h e appearance o f Benjamin G a s t i n e a u ' s C a r n a v a l a n c i e n e t moderne i n 1866 i n d i c a t e s t h a t i t was o f some importance and r e p r e s e n t e d something t h r e a t e n i n g : Les e x t r a v a g a n c e s e t l e s f o l i e s du c a r a n a v a l a t t e s t e n t un s p l e e n , un v i d e , un ablme incommensurable dans l e coeur humain. Comme t o u t e s l e s debauches, l e c a r n a v a l v i e n t de - 21 - p r i v a t i o n , de m a l a i s e . L ' h i s t o i r e en main, nous avons l a preuve que l e s p e u p l e s l e s p l u s corrumpues e t l e s p l u s a s s e r v i s se sont donnees c o r p s e t "ame aux mascarades q u i l e u r ont r a v i l e u r d i g n i t e e t l e u r independance.45 The n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y w i t n e s s e d t h e c o n t i n u a t i o n o f t h e p r o c e s s o f r e p r e s s i o n t h a t had begun i n t h e s e v e n t e e n t h . As an i n s t i t u t i o n , t h e c a r n i v a l was s u p p r e s s e d o r abandoned by t h e a r t i c u l a t e s e c t o r s o f t h e urban community, though f o r a l o n g time i t c o n t i n u e d t o s u r v i v e i n r u r a l a r e a s . However, a n o t h e r p r o c e s s was o c c u r r i n g a t t h e same t i m e . I n some a r e a s , t h e lower c l a s s e s f o u g h t t o m a i n t a i n t h e i r c o n t r o l over t h e c a r n i v a l ; i n o t h e r s , t h e c a r n i v a l became t r a n s f o r m e d i n t o a v e h i c l e f o r t h e upper c l a s s e s . The e x p e r i e n c e s o f t h e c a r n i - v a l on the i s l a n d o f T r i n i d a d and t h e r e l a t i v e l y l a t e i n t r o d u c - t i o n o f a c a r n i v a l f e s t i v a l t o New O r l e a n s i n t h e mid .... . _ n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y b e s t i l l u s t r a t e t h e two p o s s i b i l i t i e s . The former s t a r t e d as an upper c l a s s a f f a i r but became and remained a p o p u l a r f e s t i v a l d e s p i t e a t t e m p t s a t r e p r e s s i o n ; t h e l a t t e r became a v e h i c l e f o r upper c l a s s amusement d e s p i t e lower c l a s s a t t e m p t s a t p a r t i c i p a t i o n . These two o p p o s i t e e x p e r i - ences are h e l p f u l i n u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h e c o n t e x t i n w h i c h the M o n t r e a l and Quebec c a r n i v a l s o f t h e 1880's and 1890's were s i t u a t e d , a n d o f t h e p o s s i b i l i t i e s open t o them. B e f o r e 1783, the i s l a n d o f T r i n i d a d had been under S p a n i s h r u l e f o r t h r e e hundred y e a r s and t h e r e i s no e v i d e n c e o f C a r n i v a l c e l e b r a t i o n u n t i l a number o f F r e n c h s p e a k i n g p l a n t e r s began t o a r r i v e w i t h t h e i r A f r i c a n s l a v e s . The - 22 - i s l a n d became B r i t i s h i n 1797 and u n t i l 1834 when the s l a v e s were e m a n i c i p a t e d , t h e c a r n i v a l became a v e r y i m p o r t a n t i n s t i t u t i o n f o r t h e w h i t e upper c l a s s e s who e x c l u d e d t h e s l a v e s , t h e I n d i a n s and t h e " f r e e p e r s o n s o f c o l o u r " from 46 p a r t i c i p a t i o n . A f t e r e m a n c i p a t i o n , as e x - p o l i c e C h i e f L.M. F r a s e r n o t e d i n h i s r e p o r t t o t h e governor i n 1881, " t h i n g s were m a t e r i a l l y a l t e r e d , t h e a n c i e n t l i n e s o f d e m a r c a t i o n between c l a s s e s were o b l i t e r a t e d and as a n a t u r a l consequence t h e c a r n i v a l d e g e n e r a t e d i n t o a n o i s y and 47 d i s o r d e r l y amusement f o r t h e lower c l a s s e s " . He. c o n t r a s t e d t h a t w i t h e a r l i e r h a p p i e r days b e f o r e t h e s l a v e s were f r e e d 48 and t h e c a r n i v a l was t h e p r o p e r t y o f t h e upper c l a s s e s . The l o c a l p r e s s a l s o e x p r e s s e d i t s e l f i n a n t i p a t h e t i c terms and t h r o u g h o u t the n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y found o c c a s i o n t o bemoan i t s c e l e b r a t i o n . I n 1838, c a r n i v a l was termed "wretched b u f f o o n e r y ( t e n d i n g ) t o b r u t a l i z e the f a c u l t y o f the 49 lower o r d e r o f our p o p u l a t i o n " , w h i l e i n 1846 i t was c a l l e d "an o r g y i n d u l g e d i n by t h e d i s s o l u t e o f the town"; e l e v e n y e a r s l a t e r i t was an "annual a b o m i n a t i o n " , i n 186 3, "a l i c e n s e d e x h i b i t i o n o f w i l d e x c e s s e s " ; i n 1874, "a d i a b o l i c a l f e s t i v a l " ; and i n 1884, "a f r u i t f u l s o u r c e o f d e m o r a l i z a t i o n t h r o u g h o u t t h e whole c o u n t r y " . A s u r p r i s i n g change appeared i n 1896 when, w i t h t h e f i r s t note o f a p p r o v a l i n over f i f t y y e a r s , c a r n i v a l was "most s u c c e s s f u l , and one o f the p l e a s a n t e s t f e a t u r e s was t h e number from t h e upper c l a s s e s who j o i n e d i n the c e l e b r a t i o n o f t h e custom". The honeymoon was s h o r t - l i v e d , - 23 - however, f o r t h r e e y e a r s l a t e r , c a r n i v a l was once a g a i n " a l l i m m o r a l i t y and no r e f i n e m e n t " w i t h t h e w i s h . e x p r e s s e d f o r i t s e a r l y demise. P r e s s o p p o s i t i o n d i d not cease u n t i l the 50 1930's. Some o f t h i s i n v e c t i v e was d o u b t l e s s w e l l j u s t i f i e d and t h e r e were s e r i o u s problems, but as one c h r o n i c l e r p o i n t s o u t , t h e d e s i r e s , f o r a ' c l e a n ' c a r n i v a l were absurd,^"*" e s p e c i a l l y when, as was t h e case between 1858-1884, c a r n i v a l was i n t h e hands o f "uncouth elements o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n " . N e v e r t h e l e s s , t h e s e "uncouth e l e m e n t s " seem t o have remained i m p e r v i o u s t o p r e s s c r i t i c i s m and s t r o n g l y a t t a c h e d t o t h e i r way o f c e l e b r a t i n g s i n c e t h e y r e s i s t e d f i v e a t t e m p t s on t h e p a r t o f t h e p o l i c e and t h e m i l i t a r y t o s u p p r e s s i t i n a f o r t y - y e a r p e r i o d . These a t t e m p t s o c c u r r e d i n 1833, 1846, 1858 and 1859, and i n 1871-1872. Another attempt i n 1881 caused a r i o t 52 i n P o r t - o f - S p a i n . By t h e m i d d l e o f t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y t h e r e were a number o f problems a s s o c i a t e d w i t h the._urban c e l e b r a t i o n o f c a r n i v a l t h a t c o u l d not e n t i r e l y be blamed on t h e p e r c e p t i o n s o f the upper c l a s s e s . The case o f the c a r n i v a l i n New O r l e a n s was an example o f , a t t i m e s , r a t h e r d e s t r u c t i v e d i s o r d e r . I n t r o d u c e d l o n g a f t e r t h e c i t y ' s f o u n d a t i o n i n 1718, i t was a t f i r s t l a r g e l y c o n f i n e d t o t h e upper c l a s s e s , e s p e c i a l l y t h e C r e o l e s who c e l e b r a t e d i t w i t h e n t h u s i a s m . One o f t h e main e v e n t s i n t h a t c i t y ' s c e l e b r a t i o n was, and would always be, t h e p r o c e s s i o n o f masked and costumed c h a r a c t e r s t h r o u g h - 24 - t h e s t r e e t s o f the c i t y . T h i s was sometimes a custom t h a t t h e c i v i c a u t h o r i t i e s were uneasy about e s p e c i a l l y d u r i n g p e r i o d s o f p o l i t i c a l u n r e s t . Both t h e S p a n i s h and l a t e r t h e American 53 a u t h o r i t i e s would ban i t o u t r i g h t . The v e r y f i r s t r e c o r d e d s t r e e t p r o c e s s i o n however r e c e i v e d f a v o u r a b l e a t t e n t i o n from t h e l o c a l p r e s s , as t h e Ash Wednesday, 1838 e d i t i o n o f t h e D a i l y P i c a y u n e a t t e s t e d : ...A l a r g e number o f young gentlemen, p r i n c i p a l l y C r e o l e s o f t h e f i r s t r e s p e c t a b i l i t y , went t o no l i t t l e expense w i t h t h e i r p r e p a r a t i o n s . I n t h e p r o c e s s i o n were s e v e r a l c a r r i a g e s s u p e r b l y o r n a - mented - bands o f m u s i c , h o r s e s r i c h l y c a p a r i s i o n e d - p e r s o n a t i o n s o f k n i g h t s , c a v a l i e r s , h e r o e s , demigods, c h a n t i c l e e r s , p u n c h i n e l l o s , &c, &c, a l l mounted. Many o f them were d r e s s e d i n female a t t i r e , and a c t e d t h e l a d y w i t h no s m a l l degree o f grace.54 W i t h i n t e n y e a r s , however, as t h e p o p u l a r i t y and e l a b o r a t e n e s s o f t h e a f f a i r i n c r e a s e d , and p a r t i c i p a t i o n passed out o f t h e e x c l u s i v e c o n t r o l o f t h e C r e o l e upper c l a s s , p u b l i c o p i n i o n as e x p r e s s e d i n t h e l o c a l p r e s s began t o be a l i t t l e more c r i t i c a l . One o f t h e f e a t u r e s o f t h e e a r l y c a r n i v a l s had been the custom o f t h r o w i n g c o n f e t t i o r bonbons back and f o r t h between p a r a d e r s and s p e c t a t o r s , but t h i s soon d e g e n e r a t e d i n t o t h e t h r o w i n g o f sand, f l o u r and even q u i c k - 55 l i m e w h i c h damaged c l o t h i n g and eyes so t h a t by 1854, the Bee was l e s s e n t h u s i a s t i c about mardi g r a s : The d e t a i l i s v e r y s h o r t . Boys w i t h bags o f f l o u r paraded t h e s t r e e t s , and p a i n t e d J e z a b e l s e x h i b i t e d t h e m s e l v e s i n p u b l i c c a r r i a g e s , and t h a t i s about a l l . We a r e not s o r r y t h a t t h i s m i s e r a b l e a n n u a l e x h i b i t i o n i s r a p i d l y becoming e x t i n c t . I t o r i g i n a t e d i n a b a r b a r o u s age, and i s worthy o f o n l y such. - 25 - One o f t h e f e a t u r e s o f t h e 1850's t h a t many contempo- r a r i e s n o t e d was the d e c l i n e i n the p a r t i c i p a t i o n o f t h e F r e n c h p o p u l a t i o n and a g r e a t e r emphasis on American p a r t i c i - p a t i o n and customs. I n 1855, the D a i l y D e l t a lamented t h a t "the march o f Anglo-Saxon i n n o v a t i o n has made sad havoc w i t h 57 t h e time-honored customs o f our a n c i e n t p o p u l a t i o n " . The f o l l o w i n g y e a r t h e Bee n o t e d t h e d e c l i n e o f t h e f e s t i v a l 5 8 " b e f o r e t h e march o f new p e o p l e , customs and r e l i g i o n " so t h a t t h e f o l l o w i n g y e a r saw t h e o l d c e l e b r a t i o n t a k e on an e n t i r e l y new f a c e and t o t a l l y s e v e r i t s e l f from t h e p r e - L e n t e n customs o f C a t h o l i c Europe. I n 1857, s i x young Americans who had been members o f a c a r n i v a l group i n M o b i l e , Alabama, chose a minor Greek god o f f e s t i v e m i r t h , Comus, as t h e p a t r o n o f an e n t i r e l y new form o f c a r n i v a l and r e t u r n e d i t s c e l e b r a - t i o n t o the monied c l a s s e s . I n such a form i t c o n t i n u e d w i t h t h e a p p r o v a l o f t h e l o c a l p r e s s and the a r t i c u l a t e p u b l i c . The new c a r n i v a l o f "The M i s t i c k Crewe o f the C o u r t o f Comus" was a v e r y e x c l u s i v e a f f a i r w i t h p a r t i c i p a t i o n even i n t h e a c t u a l s t r e e t parades c o n f i n e d t o s o c i a l l y prominent f a m i l i e s and i n d i v i d u a l s , as were t h e p r i v a t e h i g h s o c i e t y b a l l s and p a r t i e s , a l l o f w h i c h had r i g i d l y - c o n t r o l l e d e n t r a n c e p o l i c i e s by i n v i t a t i o n o n l y . The g e n e r a l p u b l i c was f r e e o n l y t o e n j o y the s t r e e t parade o f t h e costumed w e a l t h y r e v e l l e r s as . s p e c t a t o r s . As i n t h e c l a s s - and caste-bound s o c i e t y o f T r i n i d a d e a r l i e r i n t h e c e n t u r y , where H i l l n o t e d t h a t the c e l e b r a t i o n o f c a r n i v a l had e i t h e r " t o d i e from n e g l e c t or - 26 - change i t s c h a r a c t e r c o m p l e t e l y " because i t had been "the 59 t r a d i t i o n a l l e v e l l e r o f s o c i a l d i s t i n c t i o n s " , t h e c a r n i v a l changed i t s c h a r a c t e r . Perhaps the " r i c h " hoped t h a t , as a s o c i a l l e v e l l e r , the c a r n i v a l would d i e , but what seems t o . have happened was a r e a s s e r t i o n o f upper c l a s s c o n t r o l and a f u r t h e r emphasis on s o c i a l d i s t i n c t i o n s . I t i s t h i s k i n d o f c a r n i v a l t h a t most resembled the ones h e l d i n M o n t r e a l from 1883 t o 1889 and e s p e c i a l l y i n Quebec C i t y i n 1894 and 1896. The M o n t r e a l S t a r noted d u r i n g t h e c a r n i v a l o f F e b r u a r y 1884 a c l o s e resemblance between the New O r l e a n s mardi g r a s and i t s c e l e b r a t i o n s s t a t i n g t h a t "the approach o f L e n t has l i t t l e o r n o t h i n g t o do w i t h t h e i r b e i n g h e l d " . ^ I n Quebec C i t y , t h e " m o d e r n i z a t i o n " o f t h e o l d m a r d i g r a s f e s t i v a l r e f l e c t e d t h e changes undergone i n t h e f o r t u n e s o f the c i t y and o f i t s p e o p l e over t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y . I t was t h o s e changes t h a t r e s u l t e d i n the i n d u s t r i a l c i t y o f the 1890's. CHAPTER I I THE CARNIVAL CITY AND THE REAL CITY I . B e h i n d t h e C a r n i v a l Veneer Quebec C i t y i s an i m p r e s s i v e s i g h t when viewed from a c r o s s the S t . Lawrence R i v e r . I n t h e c a r n i v a l y e a r o f 1894 v i s i t o r s t o t h e c i t y who had t r a v e l l e d t h e r e by t h e r a i l r o a d s t e r m i n a t i n g on t h e s o u t h e r n bank o f t h e r i v e r would have seen t h e i m p r e s s i v e p r o c e s s i o n o f b u i l d i n g s a l o n g t h e c l i f f s w h i c h s y m b o l i z e d t h e many a s p e c t s o f t h e c i t y ' s c h a r a c t e r and h i s t o r y . The i m p o s i n g C i t a d e l dominated snow-covered Cape Diamond on t h e s o u t h . Below i t s ramparts t h e wide wooden promenade o f t h e D u f f e r i n T e r r a c e s t r e t c h e d a l o n g t h e c l i f f - t o p t o t h e c a s t l e - l i k e Chateau F r o n t e n a c H o t e l . J u s t beyond t h e dome o f t h e nearby p o s t o f f i c e s t o o d t h e massed grey b u i l d i n g s o f t h e Quebec Seminary and L a v a l U n i v e r s i t y topped by a s l e n d e r s p i r e . W i t h t h e houses and shops o f t h e Lower Town huddled t o g e t h e r under t h e c l i f f s t h e c i t y p r e s e n t e d an appearance more s u i t e d t o t h e e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r y t h a n t o the i n d u s t r i a l age o f the 1890's. Thousands o f o u t s i d e v i s i t o r s t o t h e c a r n i v a l who t r a v e r s e d t h e narrow, snowy s t r e e t s w i t h i n t h e w a l l s o f t h e o l d c i t y by day, or e s p e c i a l l y a t . n i g h t i n a l i g h t s n o w f a l l , c o u l d e a s i l y have imagined t h a t t h e y had r e t u r n e d t o the days o f New F r a n c e . D e s p i t e t h e changes - 28 - wrought by t h e t w e n t i e t h c e n t u r y , such an i l l u s i o n i s s t i l l p o s s i b l e f o r t h e t o u r i s t who.would have few chances f o r c o n t a c t w i t h the m a j o r i t y o f t h e c i t y ' s i n h a b i t a n t s . But b e h i n d the g o t h i c snow c a s t l e s , a r c h e s and s t a t u e s , and even b e h i n d t h e stone ones o f the c a r n i v a l c i t y was t h e r e a l c i t y o f Quebec, as i t s i n h a b i t a n t s e x p e r i e n c e d . i t : the second i m p o r t a n t i n d u s t r i a l c e n t r e i n Quebec a f t e r M o n t r e a l . I t was f u l l y i n t e g r a t e d i n t o t h e r e a l i t i e s o f t h e Canadian i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n . I f one c o u l d be m i s l e d by t h e a p p e a l i n g p h y s i c a l appearance o f t h e c i t y i n t o t h i n k i n g that, i t had somehow escaped i n d u s t r i a l i z a t i o n and c l a s s c o n f l i c t , t h a t arrangement o f b u i l d i n g s a l o n g t h e c l i f f s c o u l d a l s o be seen, on c l o s e r i n s p e c t i o n , c l e a r l y t o r e v e a l t h e c i t y ' s s o c i a l s t r u c t u r e . The Upper Town had always c o n t a i n e d t h e h i g h e s t ... o f f i c e s o f Church and S t a t e e v e r s i n c e the c i t y had been founded i n 1608. Perched s y m b o l i c a l l y on t h e h e i g h t s o r j u s t b e h i n d them were t h e p r o v i n c i a l P a r l i a m e n t b u i l d i n g w i t h t h e o f f i c e s o f t h e Quebec government, t h e C i t a d e l and t h e m i l i t a r y e s t a b l i s h m e n t , t h e C a t h o l i c a r c h e p i s c o p a l p a l a c e , t h e B a s i l i c a , Seminary and U n i v e r s i t y , t h e A n g l i c a n C a t h e d r a l , and t h e new C i t y H a l l . The r e c e n t l y completed (1893) ChSteau F r o n t e n a c H o t e l , t h e CPR's p u b l i c e x p r e s s i o n o f i t s c l o s e i n t e r e s t i n the c i t y , completed t h e statement o f t h e c i t y ' s dominant i n s t i t u t i o n s . The f o u r c i t y wards i n t o which t h e Upper Town was http://experienced.it - 29 - d i v i d e d - du P a l a i s , S t . L o u i s , S t . Jean and Montcalm — a l s o c o n t a i n e d t h e homes and b u s i n e s s e s o f the c i t y ' s w e a l t h y and p r o f e s s i o n a l c i t i z e n s . I t i s t r u e t h a t a few s m a l l f a c t o r y owners and some lumber company r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s d i d l i v e c l o s e t o t h e i r b u s i n e s s p r e m i s e s i n t h e Lower Town , but i n g e n e r a l , i t i s c o r r e c t t o say t h a t t h e c i t y ' s p h y s i c a l d i v i s i o n i n t o Upper and Lower Towns was also,; a c l a s s d i v i s i o n , as Roger L e m e l i n noted as l a t e as t h e 1940's. C a r n i v a l v i s i t o r s might have had o c c a s i o n t o n o t i c e t h a t , o r t o v i s i t t h e Lower Town, t h e r e s i d e n c e o f t h e w o r k i n g c l a s s . Some c a r n i v a l e v e n t s l i k e t h e parade took p l a c e i n t h e o t h e r f o u r o f t h e c i t y ' s wards, i n t o w h i c h the s t r a g g l i n g Lower Town was d i v i d e d . Champlain and S t . P i e r r e wards were under the c l i f f s i n t h e narrow s t r e t c h o f l a n d a l o n g t h e S a i n t Lawrence w h i l e Jacques C a r t i e r and S t . Roch were l o c a t e d on t h e f l a t l a n d n o r t h o f t h e c i t y a t the mouth o f the S t . C h a r l e s R i v e r . The i n d u s t r i a l suburb o f S t . Sauveur w h i c h a l s o c o n t a i n e d many o f t h e c i t y ' s w o r k i n g p e o p l e l a y i m m e d i a t e l y t o t h e n o r t h w e s t o f S t . Roch and Jacques C a r t i e r , o u t s i d e the c i t y boundary. (See map). The c i t y ' s major i n d u s t r i e s and w o r k i n g p o p u l a t i o n were c o n c e n t r a t e d i n t h e s e wards. S t . Roch, i n p a r t i c u l a r , c o n t a i n e d t h e b u s i n e s s p r e m i s e s o f many p r o m i - nent F r e n c h Canadians and r e c e i v e d many c a r n i v a l . v i s i t o r s . What t h e t o u r i s t s saw o f t h i s o t h e r Quebec i s i n t e r e s t - i n g . A l l F r e n c h Canadians were seen as charming l a u g h i n g p e o p l e , u s u a l l y w i t h s p a r k l i n g d a r k e y e s . The u s u a l l y .. _ .... - 30 - / ; observant correspondent f o r the New York Sun, J u l i a n Ralph, wrote: The happiness of the people i s r e a l l y wonderful. They a l l laugh and they seem to laugh always. They meet a s t r a n g e r ' s gaze w i t h a s m i l e , and i n the j o l l i e s t democratic way w i l l exchange jokes w i t h anyone who t r i e s them.^ These and other t o u r i s t impressions r e v e a l how r e a d i l y they accepted the c a r n i v a l promoters' view of Quebec as a unique c i t y w i t h many advantages. V i s i t o r s l e f t the c i t y impressed by i t s antique charm, i t s f r i e n d l y people and i t s French atmosphere. The same c o n c e p t i o n of Quebec - accurate y e t l i m i t e d - i s s t i l l the s t o c k - i n - t r a d e of the modern t o u r i s t i n d u s t r y . In t h i s p e r i o d and i n common w i t h other t o u r i s t s p e c t a c l e s , t h e r e was the o f f i c i a l show put on f o r o u t s i d e r s and a l s o the area hidden from the v i s i t o r s - the back stage - where the work of p r e s e n t i n g the i l l u s i o n was done. Understanding t h a t t h e a t r i c a l d u a l i t y i s important i n d i s t i n g u i s h i n g the complete c i t y from the c a r n i v a l c i t y , which was a s e l e c t i v e p r e s e n t a t i o n , with exaggeration, of aspects of c i t y and i t s c u l t u r e , thought to be most a p p e a l i n g to t o u r i s t s . The economic r e a l i t i e s of l i f e f o r the c i t y ' s working people were, however, not e n t i r e l y hidden from the gaze of t o u r i s t s who might have ventured i n t o the area below the 2 c l i f f s . Ralph a l s o observed the e f f o r t s of "the b i g fur-., swaddled s l e i g h d r i v e r s , who make t h e i r l i t t l e ponies dash l i k e made through the s t r e e t s " i n drumming up b u s i n e s s : - 31 - Mr. E.D.T. Chambers, one o f t h e l e a d i n g s p i r i t s .... o f t h e c a r n i v a l rebuked a c o u p l e o f c a r t e r s ^ . — y e s t e r d a y f o r making such a n u i s a n c e o f them- s e l v e s , but t h e y were not abashed. " I t ' s a v e r y s h o r t season, s i r , s a i d one," and you must ^ excuse us f o r l o o k i n g out sharp f o r o u r s e l v e s . I f n o t h i n g e l s e , t h a t shows t h a t w o r k i n g p e o p l e , as w e l l as the l o c a l merchants, were q u i c k t o a p p r e c i a t e t h e economic b e n e f i t s o f t o u r i s m . S t i l l , the p r e v a i l i n g i m p r e s - s i o n o f t o u r i s t s and even o f l o c a l E n g l i s h language w r i t e r s was t h a t t h e o r d i n a r y c i t i z e n was r e l a t i v e l y w e l l o f f . That view was a l s o s h a r e d by t h e few F r e n c h Canadian w r i t e r s whose o p i n i o n s were p u b l i s h e d . H.M. F a i r c h i l d J r . , w r i t i n g about t h e i m p o r t a n t l o c a l shoe i n d u s t r y , d e c l a r e d i n 1908: The shoe worker e a r n s from $4 t o $20 a week a c c o r d i n g t o c a p a c i t y . Many o f t h e s k i l l e d o p e r a t i v e s are women. When two o r t h r e e members o f a f a m i l y a r e employed the combined wages e n a b l e them t o l i v e i n t h e g r e a t e s t ease and c o m f o r t and t o make a good appearance on Sundays and h o l i d a y s . The m a j o r i t y o f t h e heads o f f a m i l i e s own t h e i r own snug l i t t l e houses i n some o f t h e many s t r e e t s i n S t . R o c h 1 s o r S a i n t Sauveur.^ Other o b s e r v e r s a t the t i m e , however, c o n c l u d e d t h a t p o v e r t y and f i n a n c i a l - i n s e c u r i t y were much more common f o r w o r k i n g p e o p l e t h a n F a i r c h i l d i n d i c a t e d . Seen from a n o t h e r , l e s s sanguine p e r s p e c t i v e , t h e need t o have two o r t h r e e persons w o r k i n g as wage-earners r e v e a l s t h e inadequacy o f i n d i v i d u a l incomes. A r t h u r S a i n t - P i e r r e , a contemporary o f F a i r c h i l d , found t h a t f o r many workers revenue was i n s u f f i c i e n t t o meet even t h e i r b a s i c needs, e s p e c i a l l y " l e s commis, l e s preposes aux e c r i t u r e s , l e s employes de bureau - moins l e s - 32 - stenograph.es - l e s f o n c t i o n n a i r e s e t l a grande e t n o b l e phalange de nos e d u c a t e u r s que tourmente l e probleme du budget 5 a e q u i l i b r e r " . I n d i r e c t c o n t r a s t t o F a i r c h i l d , he s t a t e d i n 1915: E t de t o u t nos c a l c u l s paraT/t b i e n se degager '. l a c o n c l u s i o n que, non seulement en!1915, mais d'une f a c o n permanente, l a g@ne e t l a h a n t i s e de l a mis£re accompagnent l a m a j o r i t e de n o t r e c l a s s e o u v r i e r e l e l o n g de l a v i e . ^ A r e c e n t s t u d y o f t h e shoe i n d u s t r y , one o f t h e main- s t a y s o f t h e economy o f t h e Lower Town, a l s o comes t o d i f f e r e n t c o n c l u s i o n s t h a n t h o s e o f F a i r c h i l d . The s a l a r y range i s s l i g h t l y d i f f e r e n t w i t h $7 t o $13 a week c a l c u l a t e d as t h e average f o r t h e y e a r 1902. S a l a r y was not the s o l e c o n s i d e r a - t i o n f o r measuring income, however. The monteur ( o p e r a t i v e ) i n t h e shoe f a c t o r y was p a i d on a p i e c e - w o r k b a s i s , and was o f t e n l a i d o f f d u r i n g slow p e r i o d s . Thus a t h e o r e t i c a l average a n n u a l s a l a r y o f $468 ($9x52) which would have b a r e l y c o v e r e d the n e c e s s i t i e s remained beyond the r e a c h o f many, and Jacques M a t h i e u wrote t h a t " l e monteur moyen, en 1902, a r r i v e d i f f i c i l e m e n t a b o u c l e r son budget, e t que sa c o n d i t i o n m a t e r i e l l e e s t c a r a c t e " r i s e e p a r l a p r i v a t i o n " . B e h i n d the r e c i t a t i o n o f s t a t i s t i c s l i k e t h a t l a y the p a i n f u l compromises made on a d a i l y b a s i s by h o u s e h o l d money managers t r y i n g t o make one d o l l a r do t h e work o f two. Even t h e r e l a t i v e l y w e l l - o f f p r i n t e r ' s f a m i l y t h a t the Abbe S t a n i s l a s L o r t i e s t u d i e d i n 1903 c o u l d o n l y a t t a i n and m a i n t a i n t h e c o m f o r t he d e s c r i b e d because two u n m a r r i e d , grown-up sons had s t e a d y j o b s and http://stenograph.es - 33 - g c o n t r i b u t e d . t o t h e f a m i l y income. Nine y e a r s e a r l i e r d u r i n g the c a r n i v a l the t h r e a t o f unemployment was a l s o q u i t e r e a l . I t was not a s e a s o n a l problem, however. The p o r t , o f c o u r s e , c l o s e d i n w i n t e r , as d i d many o f i t s r e l a t e d a c t i v i t i e s . B u i l d i n g c o n s t r u c t i o n and many o f t h e c i t y ' s p u b l i c works were suspended u n t i l l a t e s p r i n g ( A p r i l - M a y ) . T h i s s e a s o n a l s l o w - down a f f e c t e d t h e deckhands, t h e s t e v e d o r e s , the employees o f t h e n a v i g a t i o n companies, t h e c a r p e n t e r s , masons and b r i c k - l a y e r s i n t h e b u i l d i n g t r a d e s and t h e d a y - l a b o u r e r s o f t h e v a r i o u s m u n i c i p a l p u b l i c works. L a y o f f s i n t h e m a n u f a c t u r i n g i n d u s t r y were not s t r i c t l y s e a s o n a l and had more t o do w i t h b u s i n e s s c o n d i t i o n s . ^ The w i n t e r o f 1893-94 appears t o have been a t y p i c a l one f o r w o r k i n g p e o p l e i n t h e c i t y , w i t h some o c c u p a t i o n a l groups s u f f e r i n g more unemployment t h a n o t h e r s . L ' E l e c t e u r r e p o r t e d an upswing i n t h e f o r t u n e s o f t h e boot and shoe i n d u s t r y w i t h a t w e n t y - f i v e p e r c e n t i n c r e a s e i n t h e number o f p r o d u c t s o r d e r e d t h a t f a l l and w i n t e r . I n c o n t r a s t t o t h i s good news, i t was r e v e a l e d t h a t t h e r e was more unemployment t h a n u s u a l w i t h t h e c l o s i n g o f t h e p o r t f o r t h e s e a s o n . ^ The y e a r b e f o r e , on J a n u a r y 23, 1893, about t h r e e hundred o f t h e c i t y ' s unemployed had g a t h e r e d i n t h e square o f t h e Champlain Market t o d i s c u s s a s o l u t i o n t o t h e economic problems o f t h e c i t y . I t was t h e n d e c i d e d t o send a w o r k e r s ' d e l e g a t i o n t o Ottawa t o compel t h e F e d e r a l Government t o i n v e s t money and i n t e r e s t i n t h e c i t y ' s economy on p u b l i c works l i k e - 34 - the C i t a d e l and t h e p o r t . C e r t a i n l y w o r k i n g p e o p l e and t h e i r f r i e n d s were w e l l aware o f t h e need f o r a c t i o n t o r e l i e v e t h e u n u s u a l d i s t r e s s , though i t appears t h a t t h e F e d e r a l Government d i d not respond t o t h e i r r e p r e s e n t a t i o n . As a prominent l o c a l l a b o u r l e a d e r p o i n t e d out a t t h e t i m e , o r d i n a r y p e o p l e were reduced t o e x c e p t i o n a l l e v e l s o f d e p r i v a t i o n . " H i e r e n c o r e , au prone de S a i n t Sauveur, l e r e v e r e n d pere G r e n i e r a d i t que dans c e t t e p a r o i s s e l a m i s e r e e s t p l u s grande que j a m a i s , des f a m i l i e s s o n t completement depourvues de t o u t e t n ' a t t e n d e n t p l u s l e u r s u b s i s t a n c e que de l a c h a r i t e " p u b l i q u e " . By t h e time o f t h e c a r n i v a l , c o n d i t i o n s had not a l t e r e d . Though the w i n t e r o f 1893-1894 was n o t as h a r s h as t h a t o f t h e p r e v i o u s y e a r , i t was s t i l l d i f f i c u l t f o r many p e o p l e . The t i m b e r t r a d e , once a m a i n s t a y o f t h e c i t y , was c o n t i n u i n g i t s g r a d u a l d e c l i n e , c o n s t r u c t i o n had slowed, and hours and wages had been 12 reduced i n s e v e r a l f a c t o r i e s . Even o r g a n i z e r s o f t h e ....... c a r n i v a l were concerned t h a t t h e c u r r e n t economic c l i m a t e o f f i n a n c i a l c r i s i s would a f f e c t a t t e n d a n c e by American ... 13 v i s i t o r s . There were a few p a l l i a t i v e s t o r e l i e v e some o f t h e w o r s t symptoms o f t h i s economic i n s e c u r i t y , though not i t s c a u s e s . I n J a n u a r y e s p e c i a l l y , l a r g e numbers o f men were t r a d i t i o n a l l y engaged t o c u t i c e f o r r e f r i g e r a t i o n from t h e f r o z e n S t . Lawrence. C a r t e r s and snow h a u l e r s a l s o b e n e f i t t e d from w i n t e r work as r o a d c l e a n e r s . The abundant s n o w f a l l o f 1894 was k i n d t o t h e s e p e o p l e . Some c a r p e n t e r s a l s o t o o k advantage o f t h e s l a c k w i n t e r season t o make s t o r a g e b a r r e l s f o r f i s h and found t h e m s e l v e s w i t h n i n e weeks o f e x t r a revenue P a u l Larocque a l s o n o t e d t h a t a c t i v i t y i n t h e p o r t a c t u a l l y recommenced i n F e b r u a r y when " m a c h i n i s t e s , mouleurs de f e r , e t m e c a n i c i e n s s ' a f f a i r e n t s u r l e s q u a i s a l a r e p a r i t i o n des v a i s s e a u x pour p r e p a r e r l ' o u v e r t u r e de l a s a i s o n de n a v i g a t i o n 14 redonnant au p o r t un semblant de v i e . " As 1'Eygnement o p t i m i s t i c a l l y n o t e d , t h e c a r n i v a l p r o v i d e d s i m i l a r r e l i e f work: Heureusement nous avons l e c a r n a v a l q u i f o u r n i t a c t u e l l e m e n t quelque ouvrage a p l u s i e u r s c e n t a i n e s d ' o u v r i e r s . x ^ The v a l u e o f t h i s c a r n i v a l as a make-work p r o j e c t i n w i n t e r and as a p a l l i a t i v e t o the c h r o n i c economic problems o f many p e o p l e i n t h e c i t y cannot be o v e r e s t i m a t e d . As i n M o n t r e a l d u r i n g t h e p r e v i o u s decade, hundreds o f workers r e c e i v e d temporary employment i n c u t t i n g b l o c k s o f i c e f o r the c a r n i v a l b u i l d i n g s , removing snow and i n c o n s t r u c t i n g t h e i c e p a l a c e s i n t h e weeks b e f o r e t h e f e s t i v i t i e s . T h i s e x t r a source o f income made t h e d i f f e r e n c e between s u r v i v a l and d e p r i v a t i o n f o r many w o r k i n g f a m i l i e s . " ^ P a r t i c i p a t i o n i n t h e c a r n i v a l as a n y t h i n g but l a b o u r e r s o r s p e c t a t o r s however, seems t o have been u n l i k e l y f o r most w o r k i n g p e o p l e i n t h e c i t y . The r e a s o n a g a i n was c o s t . I n M o n t r e a l ' s 1885 c a r n i v a l , one o f t h e f a n c y costumes t o be worn a t t h e grand b a l l i n the Windsor H o t e l c o s t $250, an e x t r a o r d i n a r y amount f o r t h e t i m e , perhaps t h r e e - q u a r t e r s o f a w o r k i n g person's y e a r l y income. By c o m p a r i s o n , the f i v e d o l l a r a d m i s s i o n p r i c e t o t h e Grand B a l l i n the L e g i s l a - t i v e B u i l d i n g f o r Quebec C i t y ' s 1894 c a r n i v a l seems modest. I t was e q u a l t o t h e weekly wages o f a good s e c t i o n o f the c i t y ' s w o r k i n g p e o p l e - and t h e r e remained o t h e r n e c e s s a r y expenses, 18 such as t h a t f o r s u i t a b l e a t t i r e . I t i s c l e a r ' t h a t , j u d g i n g from t h e Grand B a l l , t h e c a r n i v a l s were not i n t e n d e d t o be p o p u l a r f e s t i v a l s w i t h i n t h e community s i n c e t h e c o s t o f f u l l p a r t i c i p a t i o n would n e c e s s a r i l y have e x c l u d e d most o f t h e p e o p l e o f t h e c i t y . T h i s e x p l a i n s not o n l y why the presence o f l a r g e numbers o f t o u r i s t s w i t h money t o spend on amusements was so i m p o r t a n t t o the f e s t i v a l ' s s u c c e s s , but a l s o why c i t i z e n and t o u r i s t would have had l i t t l e o c c a s i o n t o m i n g l e as s o c i a l equals.. I t would, however, be m i s l e a d i n g t o imagine t h e w e a l t h y t o u r i s t s r e v e l l i n g and c a r o u s i n g i n t h e g i l d e d h a l l s o f the Chateau F r o n t e n a c w h i l e t h e workers f r o z e around p i t i f u l f i r e s i n t h e Lower Town. I t would be more a c c u r a t e t o say t h a t t h e r e were two c u l t u r e s t h a t r a r e l y met, t h a t o f the w o r k i n g p e o p l e o f t h e c i t y , and t h a t o f t h e w e a l t h y p e o p l e , b o t h F r e n c h and E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g . Each had i t s own i n s t i t u - t i o n s . I t c o s t c o m p a r a t i v e l y l i t t l e f o r w o r k i n g p e o p l e t o dance and s i n g and even t o d r i n k w i t h each o t h e r , and t h e r e were c e r t a i n l y enough p l a c e s t o do so, though contemporary l i m i t s were v e r y w e l l p r e s c r i b e d . - 37 - I n c o n t r a s t t o the e a r l y p a r t o f t h e c e n t u r y when t h e c u r e s and b i s h o p s o f t e n c o m p l a i n e d o f t h e i m p i e t y and . s c a n d a l o u s b e h a v i o u r o f h a b i t a n t p a r t i e s , and the e x c e s s e s o f p a t r o n a l f e a s t s , by the 1890's, i t appears t h a t o r d i n a r y and a p p a r e n t l y harmless a c t i v i t i e s l i k e d a n c i n g had come under t h e s u p e r v i s i o n and c o n t r o l o f t h e Church. At t h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h e c e n t u r y , Mgr. P l e s s i s c o u l d o n l y say, somewhat w i s t f u l l y , t h a t d a n c i n g and v e i l l e e s were h a r m f u l t o p r o p e r morals and t h a t " i l n'y a de bonnes p a r o i s s e s 19 ... que c e l l e s d'ou l e s danses s o n t absolument e x c l u e s " . By t h e end o f t h e c e n t u r y , h i s s u c c e s s o r s and t h e p r i e s t s s e r v i n g under them were d e c i d i n g f o r F r e n c h Canadian C a t h o l i c s w h i c h dances were s i n f u l and w h i c h ones c o u l d be r e l u c t a n t l y t o l e r a t e d . At m a r d i g r a s , t h e c l e r g y f o r b a d e modern dances l i k e t h e w a l t z and t h e p o l k a w h i c h i n v o l v e d c l o s e l y d a n c i n g c o u p l e s , a l l o w i n g i n s t e a d o n l y t h e t r a d i t i o n a l group dances 20 l i k e t h e q u a d r i l l e , t h e l a n c e r s o r the c o t i l l o n . T h e s e , . i n fact/made up t h e dance programmes o f the c a r n i v a l o f 1894. In a d d i t i o n t o d a n c i n g , the Church e x p r e s s e d o f f i c i a l o p i n i o n s i n i t s v a r i o u s e p i s c o p a l mandements on o t h e r a s p e c t s o f l e i s u r e i n t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y : t h e a t r e s , c i r c u s e s , c l u b s , 21 n o v e l s , dime museums, f e u i l l e t o n s , and s c a n d a l s h e e t s . There were a l s o p e r i o d i c c a l l s f o r a s t r i c t e r observance o f Sunday and t h e u s u a l condemnation o f g a m b l i n g , p i c n i c s , 22 e x c u r s i o n s and m o r a l l y dangerous books on t h e Lord's, Day. 23 Even snowshoeing had come under c l e r i c a l a t t a c k . I n l i g h t - 38 - o f t h i s , i t may not have been n e c e s s a r y f o r t h e Church t o have a s p e c i f i c p o l i c y towards t h e c a r n i v a l , b u t once i n a w h i l e , members o f t h e c l e r g y d i d e x p r e s s o p i n i o n s . I n October 1845, t h e J e s u i t s u p e r i o r i n M o n t r e a l , F e l i x M a r t i n , d e s c r i b e d c a r n a v a l time t o a n o t h e r member o f h i s o r d e r as "l'epoque malheureuse des p l a i s i r s du c a r n a v a l , e t quoique l ' o n ne se l i v r e pas i c i aux t r i s t e s exces que l ' i r r e l i g i o n e t l e l i b e r t i n a g e e f f r e n e i n s p i r e : _ a i l l e u r s , l a v e r t u . t r o u v e encore dans l e s danses e t l e s r e u n i o n s de l a j e u n e s s e de grands 24 d a n g e r s . . . " I n 1956, A r c h b i s h o p M a u r i c e Roy o f Quebec C i t y seems t o have been t h i n k i n g a l o n g s i m i l a r l i n e s when he warned t h a t , d u r i n g t h e C a r n i v a l , t h e c i t y must not "hide i t s C h r i s t i a n f a c e b e h i n d the v e i l o f paganism o r degenerate i n t o 25 o r g a n i z e d debauchery1,": As f o r d r i n k i n g , by 1910, t h e C i t y o f Quebec had a l i c e n c e d d r i n k i n g e s t a b l i s h m e n t f o r e v e r y 367 i n h a b i t a n t s , t h e h i g h e s t r a t i o o f t w e l v e p r i n c i p a l Canadian c e n t r e s . Because o f t h a t , even i n 1894, a l c o h o l i s m was seen as a major problem. The c u r e o f S a i n t Roch s a i d t h a t a l c o h o l 2 6 use was on t h e i n c r e a s e i n 1893, w h i l e a l e t t e r from a group o f "concerned c i t i z e n s " demanded t h a t t h e c i t y watch over the h o t e l s w h i c h opened s e c r e t l y on Sundays because "... l e u r c l i e n t e l e e s t nombreuse e t i l s'en s u i t ( s i c ) des s p e c t a c l e s . - " 2 7 v r a i m e n t desolants!!. W h i l e t h e a n t i - a l c o h o l l e a g u e , w h i c h began i n 1907 on t r a d i t i o n s t h a t went back t o t h e 1850's, a d d r e s s e d i t s e l f t o w o r k i n g c l a s s drunkenness, i t s own e x e c u t i v e committee was made up o f r e s p e c t a b l e b u s i n e s s and u n i o n l e a d e r s . As w i t h s i m i l a r m i d d l e c l a s s movements t o r e f o r m t h e h a b i t s o f t h e w o r k i n g c l a s s , i t i s o f t e n d i f f i c u l t t o d i s t i n g u i s h where c o n c e r n f o r the w e l f a r e o f t h e p e o p l e o v e r l a p p e d w i t h i n t o l e r a n c e f o r the d i f f e r e n t mores o f t h e lower c l a s s e s . The r h e t o r i c o f m i d d l e c l a s s r e f o r m was some- t i m e s marked w i t h h y p o c r i s y . I n p a r t t h i s was because the worker was more v i s i b l e t h a n t h e m i d d l e c l a s s s o c i a l d r i n k e r and he was thus.-often seen as the f i t t a r g e t f o r r e f o r m and s e e m i n g l y more i n need o f l e s s o n s on t h r i f t and m o r a l i t y t h a n 29 d r i n k e r s on o t h e r l e v e l s o f s o c i e t y . Of c o u r s e , one o f t h e major r e a s o n s f o r t h e s u c c e s s o f t h e temperance campaigns was t h a t many workers t h e m s e l v e s a c t i v e l y and e n t h u s i a s t i c a l l y p a r t i c i p a t e d i n and s u p p o r t e d them. There i s no r e a s o n t o assume t h a t d r i n k i n g t o e x c e s s was such an i n t e g r a l p a r t o f w o r k i n g c l a s s c u l t u r e t h a t t o t r y t o r e s t r i c t i t c o u l d be seen as a m i d d l e c l a s s a s s a u l t on t h e v e r y f o u n d a t i o n o f w o r k i n g c l a s s l i f e . I n Quebec C i t y and e l s e w h e r e , i t s h o u l d be remembered, not everyone was drawn t o t h e same p l e a s u r e s . Though t h e days were l o n g gone when a c i t y alderman c o u l d s p e c u l a t e t h a t e v e r y s e v e n t e e n t h house i n t h e c i t y was a b r o t h e l , i t i s more than l i k e l y t h a t t h e r e were a few, s i n c e b y - l a w s , l i k e Quebec C i t y ' s , appear t o have succeeded more i n k e e p i n g them o u t o f 31 s i g h t t h a n i n p u t t i n g them out o f b u s i n e s s . The l o c a l p r e s s does not mention any such a c t i v i t i e s d u r i n g t h e c a r n i v a l o f 1894, nor d i d t h e M o n t r e a l papers d u r i n g i t s c a r n i v a l s , but - 40 - t h e r e i s e v i d e n c e o f a t l e a s t one, c a t e r i n g t o a w e a l t h y 32 c l i e n t e l e i n M o n t r e a l i n 1885. There were l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s p r i m a r i l y f o r f a m i l i e s and o t h e r s w h i c h a p p e a l e d more t o young s i n g l e p e o p l e . The p r i n t e r ' s f a m i l y t h a t t h e Abbe" S t a n i s l a s L o r t i e s t u d i e d i n 190 3, f o r example, t o o k a few day t r i p s d u r i n g t h e y e a r , one t o t h e s h r i n e o f Ste.-Anne-de-Beaupre near t h e c i t y , and two o t h e r s t o v i s i t t h e i r f r i e n d s i n t h e c o u n t r y . On t h e o t h e r hand t h e c i t y a l s o had a l a r g e number o f u n a t t a c h e d young p e o p l e who i n 1901 made up about two 33 t h i r d s o f t h e c i t y ' s p o p u l a t i o n . Over h a l f o f t h i s group were women, many o f whom worked i n t h e c i t y ' s f a c t o r i e s . Though s h a r i n g t h e c u l t u r a l v a l u e s o f t h e o l d e r and m a r r i e d s e c t i o n o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n , t h e r e are i n d i c a t i o n s t h a t t h i s l a r g e and t r a n s i e n t p o p u l a t i o n a l s o had i t s own d i s t i n c t i v e f e a t u r e s . We are f a m i l i a r w i t h t h e m a t r i a r c h a l f i g u r e o f Mme. P l o u f f e , c r e a t e d by Roger L e m e l i n , and w i t h t h e s t r u g g l i n g p o v e r t y o f Rose Anna L a c a s s e , d e s c r i b e d by G a b r i e l l e Roy, two e n d u r i n g a r c h e t y p e s o f Quebec l i t e r a t u r e . But even R i t a 34 Toulouse had a c o u n t e r p a r t two g e n e r a t i o n s e a r l i e r . I n t h e c e n s o r i o u s atmosphere o f t u r n - o f - t h e - c e n t u r y Quebec, t h e d e s i r e o f s i n g l e young women t o be a t t r a c t i v e d i d not go w i t h o u t comment. L o r t i e , t h e p r i e s t , n o t e d w i t h some a s p e r i t y t h a t t h e young f a c t o r y women "aiment l e s t o i l e t t e s b r i l l a n t e s e t depensent souvent l a p l u s grande p a r t i e de l e u r s a l a i r e a 1' a c h a t de ve"tements dont l e p r i x e s t peu en r a p p o r t avec 35 l e u r bourse e t l e u r c o n d i t i o n " . - 41 - There were few f a c i l i t i e s f o r o u t d o o r s p o r t s . A p a r k was opened i n S t . Roch i n 1893, t h e o n l y one i n a w o r k i n g c l a s s q u a r t i e r o f t h e c i t y . A c t i v i t y t h e r e was s e v e r e l y 36 c i r c u m s c r i b e d . C i t y by-law 415 p r o h i b i t e d p h y s i c a l e x e r c i s e s , songs, o r s h o u t i n g t h a t might d i s t u r b t h e p u b l i c peace i n p a r k s o r open s p a c e s . These spaces were meant m a i n l y f o r promenading. There i s some i n d i c a t i o n o f t h e b e g i n n i n g s o f a 37 w o r k i n g c l a s s i n t e r e s t i n s p o r t s , but most p e o p l e s t i l l had t o work l o n g hours s i x days a week and t a v e r n s s t i l l were, f o r males, a p l a c e o f r e l a x a t i o n and s o c i a l i n t e r c o u r s e . The l a c k o f adequate p u b l i c t r a n s p o r t a t i o n r e s t r i c t e d m o b i l i t y , k e e p i n g p e o p l e i n o r near neighbourhoods. As f o r many o u t - o f - town e x c u r s i o n s , t h e d e c i d i n g f a c t o r , a p a r t from t r a n s p o r t a t i o n , would have been enough time o f f work. W i t h t h e u n c e r t a i n t y o f employment, few p e o p l e seem t o have t a k e n v o l u n t a r y v a c t i o n s . I f t r a v e l o c c u r r e d on Sundays, t h e u s u a l day o f f , C a t h o l i c s were aware t h a t t h e Church d i s a p p r o v e d o f s e c u l a r e x p e d i t i o n s on t h e L o r d ' s Day, o r even p r o f a n e l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s , a s t a n d 3 8 t h a t had much i n common w i t h t h e P r o t e s t a n t s o f T o r o n t o . Thus t h e w i n t e r c a r n i v a l p r o v i d e d an o p p o r t u n i t y f o r t h e young t o m i n g l e as s p e c t a t o r s f o r t h e e v e n t s t h a t took p l a c e o u t s i d e , e s p e c i a l l y on the. h a l f day t h a t work was ..." suspended. For t h o s e few who c o u l d a f f o r d t o p a r t i c i p a t e , i t was one o f t h e r e l a t i v e l y few o p p o r t u n i t i e s f o r i n t e r m i n g l i n g among young p e o p l e , when t h e mantle o f d i s a p p r o v a l o f c l e r i c a l or p a t e r n a l chaperones was l i f t e d e v e r so s l i g h t l y . N e v e r t h e - - 42 - less, the Church did declare the period immediately following the c a r n i v a l to be one of extra devotion to r e l i g i o u s duties, 39 for the young of a l l classes, not only working people. There are many questions s t i l l to be asked and answered about the young and single members of the working class population. However, for the purposes of t h i s study, one can advance a few tentative conclusions based on the evidence we have. It seems; .unlikely that a l l these young people o r i g i n a l l y came from.the c i t y . This meant that many of them were first-generation urban dwellers who had emigrated from the country-side and maintained many l i n k s with families there. For the young with no families of t h e i r own close by, these l i n k s were doubtless important, and d i f f i c u l t to maintain for the economic reasons outlined„above. Secondly, since they were separated from t h e i r families and parish communities, the f a m i l i a r figure of the parish p r i e s t , took on more importance as a force of s o c i a l control, to be sure, but also of s o c i a l cement. Later writers have been c r i t i c a l of the way that the p r i e s t s f i l l e d t h i s vacuum, but for trans- planted r u r a l people used to a small integrated t r a d i t i o n a l community, the p r i e s t was more l i k e l y to have been seen as a benign person who mediated between them and the new urban, i n d u s t r i a l and often English context into which they had ventured. In t h i s new urban and i n d u s t r i a l t e r r i t o r y i t i s not, surprising that French Canadians clung to what f a m i l i a r landmarks there were. Their urbanized o f f s p r i n g i n e v i t a b l y - 43 - d e v e l o p e d t h e i r own l o y a l t i e s and t h e i r own d i f f e r e n t and o f t e n 40 more m i l i t a n t r e s p o n s e s as p a r t o f t h i s p r o c e s s . P a r a d o x i c a l l y , i n t h e p r o c e s s o f z e a l o u s l y removing o r r e d u c i n g t h e s e c u l a r o p p o s i t i o n t o i t s i n f l u e n c e so t h a t the s p i r i t u a l p a t h c o u l d more c l e a r l y be seen, t h e Church seems t o have h e l p e d t o undermine some o f t h e v e r y f o u n d a t i o n s o f t h e communities and the a u t h o r i t y i t hoped t o p r e s e r v e f o r i t s e l f . In W i l l i a m Ryan's words, the Church took t h e s i d e o f t h e emerging c a p i t a l i s t s , h o p i n g t o c r e a t e "a s o b e r , h a r d w o r k i n g and p e a c e f u l l a b o u r f o r c e " , f o r whom i t c o u l d become t h e . e s s e n t i a l m e d i a t o r . I t u l t i m a t e l y s u r r e n d e r e d much o f i t s a u t h o r i t y t o t h e s e c a p i t a l i s t s . I I . The Economic T r a n s i t i o n The l a s t f i f t y y e a r s o f t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y were the key p e r i o d o f economic, s o c i a l and even c u l t u r a l u n c e r - t a i n t y f o r Quebec C i t y . The l o s s o f some o f the o l d c u l t u r a l t r a d i t i o n s l i k e t h e c a r n i v a l o c c u r r e d i n t h i s p e r i o d as t h e c i t y moved from a m e r c a n t i l e economy i n t o an i n d u s t r i a l one. That f i f t y y e a r p e r i o d saw a complete change i n t h e economy o f t h e c i t y accompanied by a modest growth i n p o p u l a - t i o n . The p e r i o d can a l s o be seen as one o f r e l a t i v e d e c l i n e f o r t h e c i t y . The r i v a l c i t y o f M o n t r e a l r o s e t o r e g i o n a l as w e l l as n a t i o n a l dominance. M o n t r e a l ' s commercial r i s e l e d . t o a t r a n s f e r o f economic power from Quebec. - 44 - I n 1851 Quebec C i t y was t h e g r e a t p o r t o f t h e lumber e x p o r t t r a d e , s u r p a s s i n g M o n t r e a l i n the number o f s h i p s and t h e volume o f t r a f f i c . M o n t r e a l , as t h e c e n t r e f o r t h e i m p o r t o f f i n i s h e d B r i t i s h goods and West I n d i a n p r o d u c t s , s u r p a s s e d 41 Quebec i n t h e v a l u e o f t h a t t r a f f i c . Then, l a t e i n t h e ...... 1850's, c o n c e r t e d e f f o r t s by M o n t r e a l merchants f o r t h e improvement o f n a v i g a t i o n a l o n g t h e S a i n t Lawrence even began t o undermine Quebec's c o n t r o l o f t h e lumber t r a d e i t s e l f . When t h e t i m b e r r e s o u r c e s o f t h e Ottawa and G a t i n e a u began t o 42 be d e v e l o p e d , i t was M o n t r e a l w h i c h b e n e f i t e d , not Quebec. Quebec's p r o s p e r i t y was t i e d t o "the age o f wood, w i n d , and w a t e r " . L i k e t h e M a r i t i m e p r o v i n c e s t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n o f t h e i r o n - r i b b e d , wooden-hulled composite s h i p , and t h e n t h e f u l l y i r o n - h u l l e d steamship a f t e r 1860, began the s t e a d y e r o s i o n . o f t h e wooden s h i p b u i l d i n g i n d u s t r y . From 1871 t o 1880, Quebec C i t y y a r d s t u r n e d out about t w e n t y - f i v e s h i p s p e r y e a r i n t w e l v e y a r d s d i r e c t l y e m p l o y i n g about 800 w o r k e r s . I n t h e f o l l o w i n g decade, t h e a n n u a l average o f s h i p s b u i l t 43 f e l l t o two. The term " s h i p s " i s , however, a somewhat m i s l e a d i n g way t o i n d i c a t e t h e f u l l e x t e n t o f t h a t d e c l i n e - t h e s i z e o f t h e v e s s e l s dropped j u s t as d r a s t i c a l l y as t h e i r 44 numbers. That d e c l i n e a f f e c t e d t h e s h i p y a r d w o r k e r s , the 45 owners, and many r e l a t e d b u s i n e s s e s and t r a d e s . At t h e same t i m e as s h i p b u i l d e r s were e x p e r i e n c i n g t h e f i r s t s t a g e s o f t h e i r d e c l i n e , new i n d u s t r i e s were b e i n g i n t r o d u c e d i n t o t h e c i t y . These would s h i f t the economy away - 45 - from t h e e x p o r t o f raw m a t e r i a l s l i k e t i m b e r towards an economy based on t h e p r o d u c t i o n o f f i n i s h e d goods, e s p e c i a l l y shoes and l e a t h e r p r o d u c t s i n s m a l l and medium-sized f a c t o r i e s . That t r a n s f o r m a t i o n was not an easy one f o r many and d i d r e s u l t i n h a r d s h i p . I t began w i t h t h e o p e n i n g o f t h e f i r s t mechanized shoe f a c t o r y i n t h e c i t y i n J u l y 1864. Three young F r e n c h Canadians had r e t u r n e d from l i v i n g i n New England and brought back w i t h them t h e new American t e c h n o l o g y . S m a l l m a n u f a c t u r e r s and workers i n t h e c i t y ' s l e a t h e r c r a f t s put up i n i t i a l r e s i s t a n c e but were d e f e a t e d by t h e cheaper, f a s t e r machines. Seven y e a r s l a t e r , t h e r e were seven l a r g e mechanized f a c t o r i e s i n t h e c i t y . S i x o f them were F r e n c h Canadian e n t e r p r i s e s w i t h a t o t a l w o r k f o r c e o f over two thousand , 4 6 p e o p l e . M o n t r e a l was t h e c e n t r e f o r l e a t h e r p r o d u c t i o n f o r Canada b u t , Quebec C i t y , because o f i t s s m a l l e r s i z e , came t o 47 depend much more h e a v i l y on t h i s t r a d e . By t h e 1890's, the l e a t h e r i n d u s t r y had l a i d t h e f o u n d a t i o n s f o r many o f t h e ..... c i t y ' s modern s o c i a l and i n d u s t r i a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s . T h i s was e s p e c i a l l y t r u e f o r t h e w o r k i n g c l a s s a r e a s o f S t . Roch and Jacques C a r t i e r , where l e a t h e r p r o d u c t i o n was p r e d o m i n a n t l y c o n c e n t r a t e d . I n 1893-;94, t h i r t e e n out o f e i g h t e e n boot and shoe m a n u f a c t u r e r s were c o n c e n t r a t e d i n a s m a l l a r e a o f S t . Roch and Jacques C a r t i e r wards, w i t h t e n o f t h e t w e l v e 48 t a n n e r s and c u r r i e r s l o c a t e d nearby. By 1901, a c c o r d i n g t o one r e l i a b l e , e s t i m a t e , t h e c i t y would have twenty-seven - 46 - t a n n e r i e s and t h i r t y - f i v e shoe m a n u f a c t u r e r s , w i t h a combined 4 9 w o r k f o r c e o f about 4200, a t h i r d o f them women. The c l o t h i n g i n d u s t r y w h i c h was second i n importance t o t h e l e a t h e r i n d u s t r y had a w o r k f o r c e o f about 1300 i n 1891."^ The r e s t o f t h e c i t y ' s i n d u s t r i a l economy c e n t e r e d around t h e p r o d u c - t i o n o f l i g h t consumer goods l i k e f u r s , b e e r , t o b a c c o and f o o d 51 and b e v e r a g e s , though on a s m a l l s c a l e . The s o c i a l t r a n s f o r m a t i o n o f t h e c i t y t h a t accompanied t h e change from a m e r c a n t i l e t o an i n d u s t r i a l economy was e q u a l l y comprehensive. Both w o r k i n g c l a s s and t h e . b u s i n e s s c l a s s were a f f e c t e d . T h i s was r e f l e c t e d most n o t a b l y i n the change i n t h e e t h n i c c o m p o s i t i o n o f the c i t y . The B r i t i s h and I r i s h p o p u l a t i o n moved away and t h e F r e n c h Canadian p o p u l a t i o n grew. By t h e 1890's t h e r e was a s m a l l E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g w o r k i n g c l a s s p o p u l a t i o n and a d e c l i n i n g E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g b u s i n e s s 52 community. On t h e o t h e r hand, the w o r k i n g c l a s s p o p u l a t i o n was o v e r w h e l m i n g l y F r e n c h C a n a d i a n , as were l a r g e and i m p o r t a n t elements o f the l o c a l b u s i n e s s community. F r e n c h Canadians i n t h i s l a t t e r group appear t o have been s p r e a d r a t h e r l i b e r a l l y t h r o u g h t h e c i t y ' s medium and s m a l l b u s i n e s s e s . I n c o n t r a s t t o t h e 1850's when t h e A n g l o - S c o t t i s h t i m b e r merchants and b r o k e r s dominated t h e c i t y ' s economy t h r o u g h t h e i r c o n t r o l o f the t i m b e r t r a d e , t h e more d i v e r s i f i e d i n d u s t r i a l s e c t o r o f t h e 1890's p e r m i t t e d F r e n c h Canadians t o t a k e over a l a r g e share o f economic a c t i v i t y . - 47 - By then,;, the o l d commercial E n g l i s h names were i n t h e m a j o r i t y o n l y among t h e t i m b e r merchants and b r o k e r s , on t h e boards o f t h e paper m a n u f a c t u r e r s and on t h e two s t r e e t 53 r a i l w a y companies. I n most o f t h e o t h e r key l o c a l i n d u s t r i e s , e s p e c i a l l y t h e b o o t , shoe and l e a t h e r t r a d e , companies w i t h F r e n c h names were more numerous. T h i s was a l s o t r u e o f much o f t h e c i t y ' s s e r v i c e and r e t a i l b u s i n e s s , e s p e c i a l l y i n t h e f o o d i n d u s t r y , but s i n c e t h a t i n v o l v e d d e a l i n g w i t h a b i l i n g u a l c l i e n t e l e , t h i s was perhaps t o be e x p e c t e d . Not u n e x p e c t e d l y , among t h e l a w y e r s and d o c t o r s , F r e n c h names a l s o predominated, g i v i n g F r e n c h Canadians e f f e c t i v e c o n t r o l over such a r e a s , 54 f o r example, as c i v i c p o l i t i c s . The d e c l i n e o f t h e E n g l i s h b u s i n e s s community appears t o be the main r e a s o n f o r t h e r e l a t i v e s t r e n g t h o f i t s F r e n c h Canadian c o u n t e r p a r t . I t was l e s s a m a t t e r o f i n d i v i d u a l b u s i n e s s e s b e i n g r u i n e d , but r a t h e r an a t t r i t i o n o f t h e power o f t h e E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g group. Though c o m p r i s i n g o n l y a t w e l f t h o f t h e c i t y ' s p o p u l a t i o n by the 1890's t h e i n f l u e n c e o f t h e E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g community, e s p e c i a l l y t h e businessmen appears t o have been d i s p r o p o r t i o n - a t e l y g r e a t . T h e i r r o l e i n the economic and c u l t u r a l a f f a i r s o f t h e c i t y has s c a r c e l y been i n v e s t i g a t e d as y e t , but some b u s i n e s s f i g u r e s appear t o have been a d a p t a b l e t o t h e changed .... 55 economic c o n d i t i o n s . The c a r n i v a l c e l e b r a t i o n s o f 1894 a r e an e x c e l l e n t o p p o r t u n i t y . t o see how b o t h e t h n i c elements o f t h e l o c a l commercial o l i g a r c h y worked t o g e t h e r . F r e n c h Canadian and - 48 - E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g businessmen s h a r e d i n r u n n i n g the economic, p o l i t i c a l , s o c i a l and c u l t u r a l a f f a i r s o f the c i t y , and as d e f e n d e r s o f t h e i r i n t e r e s t s and t h e i r p l a c e i n t h e c i t y , t h e y worked q u i t e w e l l t o g e t h e r . I n t h e Chamber o f Commerce, b o t h e t h n i c groups were r e p r e s e n t e d i n e q u a l numbers, and t h i s e q u a l i t y extended t o b o t h t h e e x e c u t i v e body and t o t h e 56 g o v e r n i n g c o u n c i l . T h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p a l s o extended t o b o d i e s such as t h e C i t y C o u n c i l , where t h e r e were a few E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g aldermen and c o u n c i l l o r s on t h e m a i n l y F r e n c h Canadian body, and t o t h e Quebec Harbour Commission, where the e t h n i c numbers were more e q u a l l y d i s t r i b u t e d . The s m a l l number o f E n g l i s h s p e a k e r s on t h e C i t y C o u n c i l i s p a r t i a l l y e x p l a i n e d , o f c o u r s e , by t h e s m a l l numbers o f E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g v o t e r s and the f a c t t h a t t h e i r F r e n c h Canadian c o u n t e r p a r t s were p a r t o f t h e v e r y much l a r g e r F r e n c h Canadian community, and would t h e r e f o r e be more w e l l known. T h i s w o r k i n g r e l a t i o n - s h i p between the two, e t h n i c groups o f t h e b u s i n e s s community i s a l s o r e v e a l e d i n t h e o r g a n i z a t i o n and c o n t r o l o f t h e c a r n i v a l i t s e l f , but t h a t i s a g a i n a r e f l e c t i o n o f t h e s i t u a - t i o n o f t h e l a r g e r community. H a l f o f t h e o r g a n i z e r s were E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g . T h i s s i t u a t i o n d e s e r v e s comment because i n t h e p a s t , community c e l e b r a t i o n s l i k e t h e c a r n i v a l , u s u a l l y a r o s e out o f t h e needs o r t r a d i t i o n s o f the F r e n c h Canadian p o p u l a t i o n . The case o f Quebec C i t y i n 1894, and f o r many y e a r s b e f o r e t h a t , i s o b v i o u s l y more c o m p l i c a t e d . I t does not seem t o be a q u e s t i o n o f one e t h n i c group d o m i n a t i n g the - 49 - o t h e r , but o f t h e same s o c i a l / o c c u p a t i o n a l elements o f each e t h n i c group f i n d i n g common cause. Businessmen and w o r k i n g p e o p l e c r o s s e d e t h n i c l i n e s i n t i m e s o f s t r e s s and c e l e b r a t i o n t o promote o r defend t h e i r i n t e r e s t s . T h i s was borne out on a n o t h e r l e v e l . A r e c e n t s t u d y by Jacques M a t h i e u i n d i c a t e s t h a t t h e Union des monteurs i n t h e l e a t h e r i n d u s t r y m a i n t a i n e d a c e r t a i n i n d i f f e r e n c e t o t h e " n a t i o n a l " - i n t e r e s t s o f t h e time as r e p r e s e n t e d by t h e Societe'-St v J e a n - B a p t i s t e . I n 1902, t h e l e a t h e r w o r k e r s 1 u n i o n was r e l u c t a n t t o p a r t i c i p a t e i n one o f t h e S o c i e t y ' s p a r a d e s . As w e l l , t h e y r e f u s e d t o s u p p l y money f o r a c o l o n i s a t i o n scheme a t Lac des C o m m i s s a i r e s , so t h a t , c o n c l u d e d M a t h i e u , "dans c e t t e p e r s p e c t i v e , 1'Union des Monteurs se preoccupe peu de l ' a v e n i r n a t i o n a l " . H i s u n w i l l i n g c o n c l u s i o n i s t h a t "1?image s y n d i c a l e , e t par consequent 1 1 image q u ' i l s v e u l e n t p r o j e t e r a l ' e x t e r i e u r e t dont i l s s o n t f i e r s , e s t p l u s i m p o r t a n t que l e u r image 57 n a t i o n a l e " . I t i s v e r y l i k e l y t h i s was a l s o t r u e i n 1894. I n s t u d y i n g t h e Quebec b u s i n e s s community, " l a _ ...... b o u r g e o i s i e q u e b e c o i s e " o f t h e . l a s t h a l f o f the ..nineteenth c e n t u r y , Paul-Andre L i n t e a u ' s s t u d y a l s o found common i n t e r e s t s p r e v a i l i n g over e t h n i c d i f f e r e n c e s . Of i t s t h r e e b a s i c l e v e l s - l a grande, l a moyenne, and l a p e t i t e - e a c h l e v e l was d i s t i n g u i s h e d , i n h i s a n a l y s i s , by the degree o f economic c o n t r o l e x e r c i s e d , not income, nor f o r t u n e o r e t h n i c i t y a l o n e . c These were i m p o r t a n t c o n s i d e r a t i o n s but not d e t e r m i n a n t s . The l e v e l and e x t e n t o f t h a t c o n t r o l depended on whether the - 50 - economic a c t i v i t y was c a r r i e d out on a l o c a l l e v e l , as i n t h e case o f t h e moyenne b o u r g e o i s i e , on a neighbourhood l e v e l , as i n t h e case o f t h e p e t i t e b o u r g e o i s i e , o r on a pan-Canadian l e v e l as i n t h e case o f t h e grande b o u r g e o i s i e o f M o n t r e a l . I n more p r e c i s e t e r m s , L i n t e a u d e f i n e s t h e r e p r e s e n t a - t i v e o f t h e p r o v i n c e 1 s grande b o u r g e o i s i e as d i r e c t i n g f ' d i r i g e a n t " ) . l e s i n s t i t u t i o n s f i n a n c i e r e s - banques, compagnies d'assurance e t socie'tes de f i d u c i e - l e s p l u s i m p o r t a n t s ; l e s p r i n c i p a l e s i n d u s t r i e s ; l e s e n t r e p r i s e s de chemin de f e r e t de n a v i g a t i o n d'envergure c o n t i n e n t a l e ou i n t e r n a t i o n a l e ; l e grand commerce; l e s p r o j e t s f o n c i e r e s q u i c o n c e r n e n t d'immenses r e g i o n s . C o n c e n t r a t e d i n M o n t r e a l , Canada's f i n a n c i a l c a p i t a l , t h i s m a i n l y A n g l o - S c o t t i s h group a l s o i n c l u d e d a few F r e n c h Canadians a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e Bank o f M o n t r e a l and t h e Canadian 59 P a c i f i c R a i l r o a d . The Quebec C i t y b o u r g e o i s i e d i d not a t t a i n t h i s l e v e l o f economic power, i t s l e a d i n g members belonged t o t h e m i d d l e group, t h e moyenne b o u r g e o i s i e , whose i n t e r e s t s and l e v e l o f economic c o n t r o l were r e g i o n a l . As Jean Hamelin o b s e r v e d when comparing M o n t r e a l and Quebec's b u s i n e s s i n t e r e s t s , " M o n t r e a l ouvre s u r un marche c o n t i n e n t a l , Quebec s u r un marche r e g i o n a l " . A r c h b i s h o p B o u r g e t ' s r e p l i c a o f S t . P e t e r ' s i n Rome, b e i n g b u i l t i n M o n t r e a l a t t h e time i s i l l u s t r a t i v e t h a t t h e o u t l i n e s , i f not a m b i t i o n s o f moyenne b o u r g e o i s i e were s i m i l a r t o the grande b o u r g e o i s i e , though on a somewhat reduced s c a l e . L i n t e a u ' s model a p p l i e s w e l l t o t h e l a r g e r e n t r e p r e n e u r s o f Quebec C i t y , a group w h i c h : - 51 - ... . o r i e n t e ses. a c t i v i t e v e r s l e s i n s t i t u t i o n s f i n a n c i e r e s d'envergure r e g i o n a l e , l a p e t i t e e t moyenne e n t r e p r i s e commerciale ou i n d u s t r i e l l e , l a p r o m o t i o n u r b a i n e , e t l a c o n s t r u c t i o n des chemins de f e r d i t s de c o l o n i s a t i o n . . . ^ I n t h e a r e a o f p o l i t i c s , i f the grande b o u r g e o i s i e ' s s c a l e was n a t i o n a l , t h e moyenne b o u r g e o i s i e ' s p o l i t i c a l a m b i t i o n were l o c a l " p l u s s p e c i f i q u e m e n t au n i v e a u m u n i c i p a l ou l e s d e c i s i o n s a f f e c t e n t l e u r s int§r§ts economiques i m m e d i a t s " . ^ x The i m p o r t a n c e , power and c o m p o s i t i o n o f t h i s 6 2 l o c a l o l i g a r c h y d e s e r v e s more a t t e n t i o n . I n Quebec C i t y , t h i s moyenne b o u r g e o i s i e w h i c h was A n g l o - S c o t t i s h , I r i s h and F r e n c h Canadian, p l a y e d a key r o l e , even t h e d e c i s i v e one, i n the c i t y ' s development. They extended t h e l o c a l hegemony o f 6 3 Quebec c i t y by t h e development o f t h r e e r a i l r o a d p r o j e c t s . These brought t h e a r e a between Quebec and T r o i s - R i v i S r e s , the Beauce, some o f t h e E a s t e r n Townships, and t h e Saguenay-Lac S t . - J e a n a r e a i n t o Quebec C i t y ' s economic o r b i t . I n the c i t y i t s e l f , the moyenne b o u r g e o i s i e was i n v o l v e d i n commercial 64 c i v i c p r o m o t i o n t h r o u g h t h e Chamber o f Commerce. The w i n t e r c a r n i v a l , b e g i n n i n g i n 1894 and r e v i v e d i n 1954 was one i n s t r u m e n t f o r t h a t p u r p o s e . Because o f t h e s m a l l s i z e o f t h e c i t y - and c o n s e q u e n t l y o f t h e e l i t e i t s e l f - i t was easy f o r such a group t o a c h i e v e consensus and m o b i l i z e i t s e l f f o r a c t i o n i n c a r r y i n g o u t i t s o b j e c t i v e s . I n i t s r e l a t i o n s w i t h the r e s t o f t h e c i t y as w e l l , t h i s e t h n i c a l l y mixed e l i t e g e n e r a l l y d i s p l a y e d a r e m a r k a b l e degree o f c o h e s i v e n e s s . L .. D u r i n g s t r i k e s and t h e c a r n i v a l , t h e f o r m a l and i n f o r m a l t i e s - 52 - that bound i t s members together as a class could be seen i n action. For example, having seen the Chamber oppose a b i l l (later withdrawn) making the owner of a factory responsible for accidents to workers suffered on his premises, c i t y workers were l i k e l y i n a r e s e n t f u l mood early i n 1893. Indeed, at an indignant meeting of the Quebec and Levis Conseil central des metiers et du t r a v a i l on February 7, 1893, the labour movement showed that i t was h o s t i l e to the a c t i v i t i e s of the Chamber: Cette Chambre n'a pas le temps a consacrer n i '. l ' h a b i l i t e de t r a v a i l l e r au progres et a* l a .. prosperite commerciale de cette v i l l e , mais e l l e a le temps de s'opposer aux legitimes aspirations d'une classe qui est le p i l i e r de l a province de Quebec. Nous ne sommes n i s o c i a l i s t e s , n i anarchistes, nous blamons me*me tous ceux qui cherchent a pousser l a classe ouvriere dans cette voie nefaste, et nous censurons 1'action de l a Chambre de Commerce dans les questions ouvrieres parce qu'elle est de nature a induire les ouvriers a s'insurger contre 1'autorite.^5 The recent past had also furnished,examples that brought t h i s class r i v a l r y into even sharper focus. When Narcisse Rosa, a l o c a l shipbuilder t e s t i f i e d before the Federal Royal Commission on the Relations of Labour and Capital in Quebec City i n February 1888, his remarks were tinged with bitterness about the d i f f i c u l t i e s of l i v i n g as a businessman i n a c i t y that had a powerful working class organization l i k e the Quebec Ship Labourers' Benevolent Society. His castiga- tion of the ..".despotism" of that organization^, which was both a charitable body and acted l i k e a union,, might be better understood when i t i s remembered that he had provoked a three- - 53 - day s t r i k e i n June o f t h e p r e v i o u s y e a r by e m p l o y i n g non- 6 6 u n i o n l a b o u r t o u n l o a d a s h i p i n t h e p o r t . On t h e o t h e r hand, t h e r e were w o r k i n g p e o p l e who r e c a l l e d l i f e b e f o r e the 6 7 i n c o r p o r a t i o n o f t h e S o c i e t y i n 1862. Some were p r e s e n t a t t h e s t r i k e o f J u l y 11-23, 1866 when t h e S o c i e t y attempted t o have i t s u n i f o r m r a t e s o f pay f o r v a r i o u s c a t e g o r i e s o f work a c c e p t e d a g a i n s t employer r e s i s t a n c e . A three-week o l d a l l i a n c e o f s h i p m a s t e r s , s t e v e d o r e s and t i m b e r merchants broke down on J u l y 23, 1866 when t h e s h i p masters c a p i t u l a t e d t o the u n i o n . The n e x t day, "a v e r i t a b l e r o l l - c a l l o f the o l d S t . P e t e r S t r e e t o l i g a r c h y " met t o e x p r e s s i t s annoyance a t t h e d e f e c t i o n of t h e i r e r s t w h i l e a l l i e s , and a l s o t o g i v e i n t o t h e u n i o n , a l b e i t g r u d g i n g l y . Many o f t h e s e merchants - S h a r p i e s , W i l s o n , Ross, Dean, B i c k e l l , and J e f f e r y - were s t i l l a c t i v e i n b u s i n e s s and s o c i a l c i r c l e s i n the 1890's, and 6 8 some o f them were prominent i n t h e c a r n i v a l o r g a n i z a t i o n . Another w i t n e s s b e f o r e t h e R o y a l Commission h e a r i n g s was t h e Quebec C i t y j o u r n a l i s t , J u l i u s P. T a r d i v e l , p r o p r i e t o r o f t h e u l t r a m o n t a n e newspaper La V e r i t e and a v i g o r o u s opponent 69 o f t h e I n t e r n a t i o n a l K n i g h t s o f Labour. When the Union des 'Typographies de Quebec, an a f f i l i a t e o f t h e K n i g h t s , went on s t r i k e a g a i n s t t h e newspapers i n t h e C i t y i n J a n u a r y 1888 f o r a r e d u c t i o n i n t h e work day t o n i n e hours from t e n , and f o r a minimum s a l a r y o f $8 per week, a common f r o n t o f the employers succeeded i n r e s i s t i n g the s t r i k e . The workers were f o r c e d t o r e t u r n t o work w i t h no g a i n s a f t e r a p a r t i c u l a r l y v i r u l e n t - 54 - a n t i - K n i g h t s newspaper campaign, l e a d by T a r d i v e l . A few days l a t e r , t h e u n i o n i t s e l f was undermined when a new one was s e t up whose r u l e s were t o be s u b m i t t e d t o the r e l i g i o u s a u t h o r i - 70 t i e s . C l e r i c a l c o n s e n t would a l s o be needed f o r any changes. W i t h T a r d i v e l " s i n v o l v e m e n t , t h e l a b o u r i s s u e s became c l o u d e d and c o n f u s e d by t h e abhorrence o f C a t h o l i c N a t i o n a l i s t s l i k e him f o r "masonic" s e c u l a r w o r k e r s ' a s s o c i a t i o n s w i t h t i e s t o E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g N o r t h A m e r i c a . An even more c o n c r e t e example o f t h e h i g h degree o f c o o p e r a t i o n among t h e c i t y ' s employers t o o k p l a c e i n J u n e - J u l y , 1891. Three hundred f i f t y workers i n t h e L a s t e r s ' P r o t e c t i v e Union s t r u c k t h e l o c a l l e a t h e r i n d u s t r y f o r h i g h e r wages, but a u n i t e d f r o n t o f t h e companies a g a i n succeeded i n w a i t i n g out t h e s t r i k e d u r i n g a month o f slow b u s i n e s s . A t t h e end o f t h a t p e r i o d , a c c o r d i n g t o t h e Morning C h r o n i c l e o f J u l y 3, 1891, i n c r e a s e d m e c h a n i z a t i o n worked i n t h e employers' f a v o u r , "douze machines d e s t i n e e s a a c c e l e r e r l e montage des c h a u s s u r e s s o n t d e j a i n s t a l l e e s a Quebec. On en a t t e n d h u i t a u t r e s . Une machine peut monter de 400 a 700 p a i r e s de s o u l i e r s par j o u r " . I n defence o f - t h e i r r e s p e c t i v e economic i n t e r e s t s , b o t h t h e w o r k i n g c l a s s and t h e b u s i n e s s c l a s s were o f t e n u n i t e d a g a i n s t each o t h e r . But t h a t does not e x p l a i n t h e way t h a t c o n s c i o u s - ness o f one's c l a s s was m a i n t a i n e d between c r i s e s . R e a l s t r u c t u r e s o f s o l i d a r i t y e x i s t e d i n Quebec C i t y f o r o t h e r a s p e c t s o f t h e l i v e s o f t h e l o c a l b u s i n e s s community, n o t a b l y t h e i r l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s , t h a t brought 'them t o g e t h e r r e g u l a r l y - 55 - as a.class. The 1894 c a r n i v a l and i t s successors was a cele- bration of the values and i n s t i t u t i o n s of these people, just as the older carnivals were more broadly-based celebrations of p r e - i n d u s t r i a l society. In order to understand the difference between the two, i t i s now necessary to discuss the structure and values sustaining the modern c a r n i v a l of 1894. - 56 - CHAPTER I I I THE CARNIVAL OF 1894 I . "The A n c i e n t C a p i t a l Under a New A s p e c t " When t h e e s t i m a t e d f i f t y t o s e v e n t y thousand s p e c t a t o r s t u r n e d o u t t o see the s t o r m i n g o f the..ice p a l a c e on t h a t c o l d n i g h t o f F e b r u a r y 2, 1894, t h e y were w i t n e s s i n g the s u c c e s s f u l f a n d d r a m a t i c . c o n c l u s i o n o f t h e l o c a l b u s i n e s s community's c e l e b r a t i o n o f i t s s u c c e s s . Whatever c u l t u r a l a s p i r a t i o n s t h i s event may l a t e r have had, and whatever l i n k s w i t h the p a s t i t may have hoped t o i n v o k e , i i t was e s s e n t i a l l y t h e c e l e b r a t i o n s t a g e d by t h e l o c a l commercial o l i g a r c h y . I n t h e few months between O c t o b e r , 1893 and F e b r u a r y , 1894, t h e e l a b o r a t e f e s t i v a l had been p r o p o s e d , o r g a n i z e d , f i n a n c e d , a d v e r t i s e d a l l o v e r N o r t h A m e r i c a , and c a r r i e d out w i t h a s u c c e s s beyond t h e e x p e c t a t i o n s o f even i t s most o p t i m i s t i c a d v o c a t e s . The s u p p o r t and e n t h u s i a s m o f t h e b u s i n e s s community i n p a r t i c u l a r , and t h e p a r t i c i p a t i o n o f ... many l o c a l merchants i n a l l a s p e c t s o f t h e c a r n i v a l were c o n s i d e r e d k e y . . f a c t o r s i n i t s s u c c e s s a t t h e t i m e . On the o t h e r hand, the v i r t u a l e x c l u s i o n o f most o t h e r s e c t o r s o f t h e community e n s u r e d t h a t t h e form and c o n t e n t o f t h e c a r n i v a l would p r i m a r i l y r e f l e c t t h e i n t e r e s t s and p r e o c c u p a t i o n s o f t h e s e same businessmen. The p u b l i s h e r o f t h e Quebec T e l e g r a p h , Frank C a r r e l . , f i r s t suggested t h e i d e a o f a w i n t e r c a r n i v a l f o r t h e c i t y i n O c t o b e r , 1893 and d i d so i n an e d i t o r i a l a p p e a l i n g d i r e c t l y t o the l o c a l businessmen f o r s u p p o r t : Thousands o f s t r a n g e r s would be a t t r a c t e d t o our o l d c i t y by so a g r e e a b l e a break i n t h e dead season and so f a v o u r a b l e an o p p o r t u n i t y t o see the A n c i e n t C a p i t a l under a new a s p e c t , and our h o t e l s and l o c a l t r a d e would reap t h e b e n e f i t . I n f a c t , a s t i r would be c r e a t e d i n e v e r y department o f our l o c a l l i f e j u s t when, i t would be most welcome, and a l a r g e amount o f money would be p u t i n c i r c u l a t i o n , when most wanted.1 The k i n d o f c a r n i v a l he had i n mind was s i m i l a r t o the ones h e l d i n M o n t r e a l a decade e a r l i e r . These c o n s i s t e d o f - s p e c t a c l e s , s p o r t i n g e v e n t s and e n t e r t a i n m e n t e m p h a s i z i n g the j o y f u l a s p e c t o f t h e Canadian w i n t e r : Of c o u r s e , t h e s t a p l e s would have t o be t h e customary d r i v i n g , s k a t i n g , snow-shoeing, c u r l i n g , hockey p l a y i n g , t o b o g a n n i n g , masquerade b a l l s on the i c e , t o r c h l i g h t p r o c e s s i o n s , and t h e o t h e r s e a s o n a b l e s p o r t s , but such n o v e l t i e s , ..for i n s t a n c e , as a parade o f our m i l i t a r y on snow shoes, w h i c h , we b e l i e v e , c o u l d be a r r a n g e d f o r w i t h o u t any g r e a t d i f f i c u l t y , might be a l s o i n t r o d u c e d t o g r e a t advantage. The a t t a c k and defence o f a r e g u l a r i c e - c a s t l e o r f o r t would a l s o be a v a l u a b l e s p e c t a c u l a r a d j u n c t t o t h e programme. To ensure t h a t a l l s o c i a l c l a s s e s would f e e l t h a t t h e y were i n v o l v e d , C a r r e l a l s o proposed t h a t i t would be "not o n l y a w i s e , b u t a g r a c e f u l t h i n g t o have t h i s f o r t e r e c t e d somewhere i n S t . Roch's", t h e F r e n c h s p e a k i n g and w o r k i n g 3 c l a s s a r e a o f t h e c i t y . He a l s o a l l u d e d t o t h e m a t e r i a l b e n e f i t t o t h e l a b o u r i n g p o p u l a t i o n , w h e n he suggested t h a t the - 58 - c a r n i v a l would a l l e v i a t e the w i n t e r p l i g h t "of a c o n s i d e r a b l e number of our working c l a s s e s " i n a f a r b e t t e r and more 4 r a t i o n a l way than by c h a r i t y . For whatever reasons t h a t most appealed to them - and C a r r e l appears to have been a good salesman by u s i n g them a l l - the l o c a l business community responded f a v o u r a b l y to h i s p r o p o s a l . A few days l a t e r the Telegraph was r e p o r t i n g t h a t prominent merchants were not o n l y i n favour of the c a r n i v a l , but a l s o promised t h e i r f i n a n c i a l a s s i s t a n c e . ^ J.B. L e t e l l i e r , a S t . Roch merchant, was quoted as s a y i n g "there would be a b e t t e r c i r c u l a t i o n of money and a l l t r a d e s would more or l e s s d e r i v e a b e n e f i t . February was a good month, as i t was g the d u l l e s t of the year". No r e f e r e n c e was made to mardi gras or any t r a d i t i o n a l f e s t i v a l s of the month. E x p e c t i n g some apathy i n the French Canadian community, the paper c a l l e d on the French-language p r e s s to arouse "that unison and wise l i b e r a l i t y i n the matter, which are so e s s e n t i a l to success" by g e t t i n g the French Canadian "storekeepers, manufacturers, h o t e l and businessmen of S t . Roch's" i n v o l v e d i n having the i c e palace l o c a t e d t h e r e . " I t depends upon them and upon the g e n e r o s i t y .and e n t e r p r i s e of our merchants and business, men g e n e r a l l y t o say whether e f f e c t s h a l l be given to the „7 p r o p o s i t i o n . A few days l a t e r , the Telegraph sent a r e p o r t e r to St.. Roch' s and he found more support there f o r the i d e a than had been expected. J.B. L a l i b e r t e , owner of the l a r g e s t f u r - 59 - s t o r e i n S t . Roch's who s o l d , w i t h G.R. Renfrew, t h e o t h e r l a r g e Quebec f u r r i e r , about s e v e n t y - f i v e thousand d o l l a r s ' w o r t h o f f u r s t o t o u r i s t s d u r i n g t h e c a r n i v a l , was e n t h u s i a s t i c from t h e s t a r t . He s a i d , "thousands o f Americans have t o l d me i f we have a w i n t e r c a r n i v a l i n Quebec, t h e y would v i s i t our c i t y a g a i n , t o see i t i n a d i f f e r e n t season t o summer... W i t h cheap e x c u r s i o n s , we would have a l l t h e s t r a n g e r s we c o u l d 8 accommodate..." As p r e s i d e n t o f t h e S t . Roch A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n , J.B. L a l i b e r t e would become h e a v i l y i n v o l v e d i n t h e c a r n i v a l o r g a n i z a t i o n and be a member o f the e x e c u t i v e committee, but t h i s f u r r i e r n o t e d c o r r e c t l y t h a t t h e merchants o f S t . Roch would s u p p o r t t h e c a r n i v a l "as i t w i l l d e e p l y 9 c o n c e r n t h e i r own i n t e r e s t s " . W i t h i n t e n days o f t h e o r i g i n a l a r t i c l e , e i g h t e e n merchants o r f i r m s t h a t l a t e r dominated the c a r n i v a l o r g a n i z a - t i o n p r e s e n t e d a p e t i t i o n t o Mayor J.C. Fremont, c a l l i n g f o r a p u b l i c m e e t i n g on t h e s u b j e c t . E l e v e n o f t h e p e t i t i o n e r s were F r e n c h - s p e a k i n g and seven were E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g . "^ A l o n g w i t h t h e p e t i t i o n came a ready-made p l a n f o r a s i x - d a y c a r n i v a l program t h a t i n c l u d e d a l l t h e e v e n t s C a r r e l had o r i g i n a l l y proposed."'""'' As t h e T e l e g r a p h n o t e d a few days l a t e r , when i t announced t h e p u b l i c m e e t i n g t o be h e l d , the f o r m u l a f o r a s u c c e s s f u l c a r n i v a l was t o " p l a c e t h e f i n a n c i a l arrangements i n t h e hands o f sound e n t e r p r i s i n g b u s i n e s s men and g i v e our a t h l e t i c a s s o c i a t i o n s as much as p o s s i b l e c a r t e 12 b l a n c h e t o get up and c a r r y out a s u i t a b l e programme". - 60 - P a r t o f t h i s c o n c e r n f o r a s u c c e s s f u l c a r n i v a l came from t h e s o r r y e x p e r i e n c e o f t h e c i t y ' s f i r s t c a r n i v a l i n 1883. I m i t a t i n g M o n t r e a l , Quebec C i t y had h e l d a t h r e e day a f f a i r which was g e n e r a l l y c o n s i d e r e d a t o t a l f a i l u r e , p a r t l y from the l a c k o f o r g a n i z a t i o n and t h e shabby d e c o r a t i o n s , and p a r t l y from t h e f a i l u r e t o a t t r a c t more t h a n f i f t y Americans t o 13 town. Perhaps i t was a l s o not as commercial as t h o s e o f t h e 1890's. ' As one o f t h e M o n t r e a l papers c a u s t i c a l l y n o t e d t h e n , " t h e r e appears t o be a s i n g u l a r f a t a l i t y a t t e n d i n g 14 e v e r y t h i n g c o n n e c t e d w i t h t h e A n c i e n t c a p i t a l " . A few days a f t e r t h e 1883 c a r n i v a l t h e c i t y ' s own e n g i n e e r , C h a r l e s B a i l l a i r g e f i r e d o f f an i m p a s s i o n e d memorandum t o the c i t y c o u n c i l d e p l o r i n g t h e f a i l u r e o f t h e event and p r o m i s i n g t h a t under h i s d i r e c t i o n a s p e c t a c l e worthy o f t h e C a p i t a l would be p r e s e n t e d . A t t h a t t i m e , B a i l l a i r g e wrote p r o p h e t i c a l l y : A p p e l e z en temps o p p o r t u n vos c o m i t e s , l e maire en t e t e - voyez a ce que t o u t e s l e s s e c t i o n s de l a v i l l e e t t o u t e s l e s c l a s s e s de l a s o c i e t e s o i e n t r e p r e s e n t e e s au c o n c o u r s ; non pas e n c o r e , comme c e t t e f o i s , i g n o r e r .. completement une des c l a s s e s l e s p l u s i n f l u e n t e s , l a c l a s s e m e r c a n t i l e . . . A t t h e p u b l i c m e e t i n g on November 2, 1893, E r i c D o r i o n , a c i v i l s e r v i c e c l e r k and l a t e r member o f t h e c a r n i v a l e x e c u - t i v e and s u b s c r i p t i o n committees as w e l l as the s e c r e t a r y o f the Quebec Amateur A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n , e s t i m a t e d t h a t "$7,;0.00 t o $10,000 j u d i c i o u s l y expended would produce as good i n t h e f o r m a t i o n o f an o r g a n i z a t i o n a l committee made up o f a c a r n i v a l here as any i n M o n t r e a l " . 16 That m e e t i n g r e s u l t e d - 61 - F r e n c h and E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g businessmen. T h i s body q u i c k l y d i v i d e d i n t o smaller,.committees w i t h s p e c i a l i z e d t a s k s such as a d v e r t i s i n g t h e event a l l over N o r t h A m e r i c a , r a i s i n g money by p u b l i c s u b s c r i p t i o n , a r r a n g i n g t h e s p o r t i n g e v e n t s , and t h e s p e c i a l r a i l w a y t r a n s p o r t a t i o n o f v i s i t o r s t o t h e c i t y , and c o n s t r u c t i o n o f t h e c a r n i v a l s t r u c t u r e s . A t t h e same t i m e , t h e soon-to-be-famous Chateau F r o n t e n a c H o t e l was n e a r i n g c o m p l e t i o n and would be opened, amid scenes o f s p l e n d o r r i v a l l i n g t h o s e o f t h e c a r n i v a l , t h a t December. On a l l f r o n t s , t h e c i t y was b e i n g o r g a n i z e d f o r ' i t s s u c c e s s f u l debut i n promoted t o u r i s m . I I . O r g a n i z i n g t h e C a r n i v a l I n l o o k i n g a t the r a p i d and e f f i c i e n t o r g a n i z a t i o n o f t h e c a r n i v a l i n t h e l a t e f a l l o f 1893, one i s i m m e d i a t e l y s t r u c k by t h e harmonious way t h e members o f t h e b u s i n e s s community o f t h e c i t y , who predominated on t h e committees, c o u l d work t o g e t h e r . I n t r y i n g t o e x p l a i n t h i s , i t i s c l e a r t h a t the f o r m a l and i n f o r m a l c h a n n e l s o f communication t h e y p o s s e s s e d t h r o u g h t h e i r l e i s u r e and s o c i a l a c t i v i t i e s a c t e d . as i m p o r t a n t a d j u n c t s t o t h e i r b u s i n e s s l i n k s . I t appears t h a t the snowshoe o r a t h l e t i c c l u b s o f t e n b r o u g h t some o f t h e s e p e o p l e t o g e t h e r who o t h e r w i s e would have been u n l i k e l y t o have m e t ; i n t h e i r o r d i n a r y b u s i n e s s d e a l i n g s . I n t h a t sense, t h e c a r n i v a l c o u l d be s a i d t o have been a s o c i a l event f o r t h e b u s i n e s s community as a whole. - 62 - As n o t e d b e f o r e a l l t h e i m p o r t a n t c a r n i v a l committees l i k e F i n a n c e , C o n s t r u c t i o n , R a i l w a y , A d v e r t i s i n g and C o n s t r u c - t i o n were c h a i r e d and manned by members o f t h e b u s i n e s s community, and some c o n t a i n e d a t l e a s t one member o f t h e Chamber o f Commerce, an o r g a n i z a t i o n f o r t h e p r o m o t i o n o f b u s i n e s s i n t e r e s t s . S i m i l a r l y , members o f t h e c i t y ' s m u s i c a l o r s p o r t i n g communities p a r t i c i p a t e d on b o d i e s l i k e t h e Snow- shoe o r M u s i c a l committees where t h e i r p a r t i c u l a r knowledge was a p p l i c a b l e . S i n c e t h e number-of committees and committee members was s m a l l t o b e g i n w i t h , i t i s p o s s i b l e t o t r a c e some o f t h e l i n k s w h i c h bound them t o g e t h e r as a group. To do t h i s i t i s n e c e s s a r y t o l o o k a t t h e k i n d s o f p e o p l e making up t h e s e committees and t o t r a c e t h e i r membership i n t h e v a r i o u s a t h l e t i c , c u l t u r a l , o r b u s i n e s s a s s o c i a t i o n s i n t h e c i t y . In so d o i n g , a number o v e r l a p p i n g a r e a s o f i n t e r e s t a r e r e v e a l e d . These c o n n e c t i o n s show t h a t t h e c a r n i v a l c e l e b r a t i o n s were by, o f , and f o r t h e s m a l l and medium-sized businessmen o f t h e ~ c i t y whether F r e n c h o r E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g . T h i s s u g g e s t s a community o f i n t e r e s t t h a t f r e q u e n t l y superseded t h e d i v i s i o n o f e t h n i c i t y . For example, i n l o o k i n g a t t h e g i v e n o c c u p a t i o n s o f "sportsmen" on t h e c a r n i v a l committees, which i s t o say t h e members.of t h e Quebec Amateur A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n o r t h e A s s o c i a t i o n a t h l e t i q u e de S t . - Roch-de*-Quebec, the v a s t m a j o r i t y were i n b u s i n e s s . T h i s i s e s p e c i a l l y t r u e o f the E n g l i s h - 63 - s p e a k e r s , who made up not a l l , but t h e m a j o r i t y o f p a r t i c i - p a n t s i n l o c a l , o r g a n i z e d a t h l e t i c a c t i v i t i e s . Out o f t h e t h i r t e e n members o f t h e e x e c u t i v e o f t h e Q.A.A.A., o n l y two were F r e n c h Canadians, but a l l were e i t h e r merchants, businessmen o r " i n v e s t o r s " ( r e n t i e r i n t h e D i r e c t o r y ) . They ranged from w h o l e s a l e g r o c e r s , lumber merchants, a t i n s m i t h , bank c l e r k , and commission merchants, t o an a c c o u n t a n t . Others appear t o have had f a m i l y t i e s , t o l o c a l merchants s i n c e t h e y had t h e same surname and address i n t h e c i t y 17 d i r e c t o r y . An o c c u p a t i o n a l a n a l y s i s o f t h e members o f the n i n e major c a r n i v a l committees shows them t o be, f i r s t and f o r e m o s t , businessmen, w i t h a c l e r k o r i n v e s t o r o r two, but t h e r e i s no e v i d e n c e a t a l l o f p a r t i c i p a t i o n by l a b o u r e r s , or o p e r a t i v e s i n the i m p o r t a n t l o c a l l e a t h e r i n d u s t r y o r even 18 o f o f f i c e r s from any o f t h e l a b o u r u n i o n s . Because i t was t h e most modern element i n the c a r n i v a l o r g a n i z a t i o n t h e A d v e r t i s i n g Committee,should be l o o k e d a t b r i e f l y . I t s d u t y was t o p u b l i c i z e t h e event a l l over Canada and t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s , and by i s s u i n g news t o t h e p r e s s , though., a n o t h e r committee made up o f r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s o f the l o c a l p r e s s a l s o performed t h e same f u n c t i o n . The a d v e r t i s i n g committee's members were a v a r i e d group o f p e o p l e . The p r e s i d e n t , G.M. F a i r c h i l d J r . , was a w e a l t h y r e n t i e r from Cap Rouge, o u t s i d e t h e c i t y . He had a l i t e r a r y bent and produced an account o f t h e 1894 c a r n i v a l based on newspaper r e p o r t s . From t h e . e v i d e n c e o f h i s few papers i n t h e Quebec A r c h i v e s he - 64 - was a l s o i n v o l v e d i n t h e b i - c u l t u r a l l i t e r a r y and s o c i a l c i r c l e s o f t h e c i t y , and appears a l s o t o have c o r r e s p o n d e d q u i t e r e g u l a r l y w i t h w e a l t h y American and Canadian businessmen 19 such as C o r n e l i u s Van Home o f t h e Canadian P a c i f i c R a i l w a y . Frank C a r r e l , t h e p r i n t e r , p r o p r i e t o r and e d i t o r o f t h e Quebec D a i l y T e l e g r a p h and t h e man who f i r s t proposed t h e c a r n i v a l was a l s o a member o f t h i s committee, as were s e v e r a l p e o p l e c o n n e c t e d t o t h e r a i l w a y and t r a v e l i n d u s t r y l i k e t h e l o c a l CPR passenger and f r e i g h t agent, o r R.M. S t o c k i n g the U.S. V i c e - C o n s u l and g e n e r a l t i c k e t agent f o r t h e r a i l w a y and steamship l i n e s . The s e c r e t a r y and manager o f two i m p o r t - ant l o c a l r a i l r o a d s , t h e Quebec and Lake S t . John and t h e G r e a t N o r t h e r n , as w e l l as t h e manager o f t h e Chateau F r o n t e n a c H o t e l a l s o brought t h e i r t a l e n t s t o the committee. E r i c D o r i o n , s e c r e t a r y o f t h e Quebec A.A.A. a l s o s e r v e d on t h e committee as d i d the l o c a l manager o f t h e government steamers and t h e d i r e c t o r o f t h e F r e n c h language d a i l y news- paper, L'Evenement. The f i r s t t h i n g t h a t t h e Committee d i d was t o i s s u e twenty-one thousand c o p i e s o f a t h i r t y - s i x page book c o n t a i n - i n g the 1894 c a r n i v a l program and p r o m o t i n g w i n t e r a c t i v i t i e s i n t h e c i t y . I t was p a i d f o r by a d v e r t i s i n g from l o c a l merchants and, s h o r t l y a f t e r i t was p r i n t e d , l o c a l c i t i z e n s p r o v i d e d t h e names o f e i g h t thousand s u i t a b l e r e c i p i e n t s o u t s i d e Quebec. The r e s t were s e n t t o " h o t e l s , c l u b s , t i c k e t o f f i c e s , r a i l r o a d s , newspapers and magazines i n a l l p a r t s o f - 65 - 20 t h e c o u n t r y " . The e f f e c t i v e n e s s o f t h e a d v e r t i s i n g campaign had been demonstrated by the M o n t r e a l e r s . M o n t r e a l ' s 1883 c a r n i v a l w h i c h had been p u b l i c i z e d i n American newspapers from t h e A t l a n t i c t o the P a c i f i c , and t h e M o n t r e a l S t a r c a l c u l a t e d from a s u r v e y o f t h e r a i l r o a d s t a t i o n s t h a t t h e number o f 21 o u t - o f - t o w n v i s i t o r s f o r t h e c a r n i v a l i n 1885 was 53,000. One e n t e r p r i s i n g t i c k e t agent even went t o Boston and s e t up a window d i s p l a y f o r t h e 1883 c a r n i v a l i n M o n t r e a l t o arouse t h e i n t e r e s t o f t h e American p u b l i c . He was so s u c c e s s f u l t h a t p o l i c e m e n had t o c l e a r t h e s t r e e t i n f r o n t o f t h e d i s p l a y . The American p r e s e n c e became one o f t h e more s t r i k i n g f e a t u r e o f t h e c a r n i v a l s and was a s s i d u o u s l y sought. Quebec C i t y d i d n o t , as had M o n t r e a l i n 1883 and 1884, i n v i t e the American p r e s i d e n t , t h e g o v e r n o r s o f t h e New England S t a t e s and t h e C h i e f s - o f - S t a f f o f t h e U.S. Army and Navy (who d e c l i n e d t h e i n v i t a t i o n s i n any c a s e ) , but no e f f o r t seems t o have been 23 s p a r e d t o a t t r a c t as many o t h e r Americans as p o s s i b l e . And when prominent Americans l i k e t h e A s t o r s o f New York a r r i v e d i n t h e i r own p r i v a t e r a i l w a y c a r , t o s t a y f o r t h e d u r a t i o n o f t h e c a r n i v a l , t h e i r presence was p u b l i c i z e d . The A d v e r t i s i n g Committee a l s o p r e p a r e d and m a i l e d r e a d y - t o - p r i n t a r t i c l e s t o newspapers i n "every town and c i t y t h r o u g h o u t Canada and t h e E a s t e r n and M i d d l e s t a t e s " each week h o p i n g - j u s t i f i a b l y - f o r f r e e a d v e r t i s i n g f o r t h e 25 c a r n i v a l . I n d i v i d u a l committee members a l s o produced t h e i r own pamphlets and c i r c u l a r s . From t h e o u t s e t , c o n s i d e r i n g t h e - 66 - scope o f t h e a d v e r t i s i n g campaign a l o n e , t h e c a r n i v a l was t o be a major b u s i n e s s endeavour. The F i n a n c e Committee was a n o t h e r body t h a t r e v e a l e d t h e f i n a n c i a l commitment and e n t h u s i a s m o f t h e businessmen f o r t h e c a r n i v a l . At t h e v e r y o u t s e t , when f e a r s were e x p r e s s e d about t h e c a r n i v a l committees g o i n g i n t o d e b t , a F i n a n c e Committee was g i v e n t h e power t o o v e r s e e a l l e x p e n d i t u r e s and t o s e t l i m i t s on what each committee c o u l d spend. The money f o r r u n n i n g t h e c a r n i v a l , w h i c h t h e committee a d m i n i s t e r e d came from a p u b l i c s u b s c r i p t i o n w h i c h r a i s e d t e n thousand d o l l a r s , and c o u p l e d w i t h o t h e r monies, c a r n i v a l r e c e i p t s t o t a l l e d $13,200 . A f t e r a l l expenses had been met, t h e .. 27 committee came up w i t h a seven hundred d o l l a r s u r p l u s . D o n a t i o n s f o r t h e c a r n i v a l came from companies and • i n d i v i d u a l s . The C i t y a l o n e donated one thousand d o l l a r s , by f a r t h e l a r g e s t amount, though l e s s t h a n a week b e f o r e t h e o p e n i n g o f t h e c a r n i v a l i t had not y e t done so and t h e r e was some nervousness because a p a r t o f t h e program was i n j e o p a r d y 2 8 w i t h o u t i t . The n e x t l a r g e s t d o n a t i o n s - f i v e hundred d o l l a r s each - came from J.B. L a l i b e r t e t h e f u r r i e r , and t h e Chciteau F r o n t e n a c H o t e l . W.C. Van Home and T.G. Shaughnessy o f t h e CPR each donated $250, w h i l e seventeen i n d i v i d u a l s , ; banks and companies donated sums r a n g i n g between one t o two hundred d o l l a r s . The committee o v e r s e e i n g t h e s p e n d i n g o f t h i s money was composed o f some v e r y h i g h l y r e s p e c t e d Quebec c i t i z e n s . - 67 - The p r e s i d e n t , R. T u r n e r , was a s s o c i a t e d w i t h the w h o l e s a l e g r o c e r y and g e n e r a l m e r c h a n d i s i n g f i r m o f Whitehead and T u r n e r , and was a l s o one o f t h e V i c e - P r e s i d e n t s o f t h e Quebec A m a t e u r . A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n . Other committee members i n c l u d e d V i c t o r Chctteauvert a c h i n a and g l a s s merchant who was a l s o t h e MPP f o r Quebec C e n t r e , t h e p r e s i d e n t o f t h e Chamber o f Commerce, on t h e e x e c u t i v e o f t h e Quebec S k a t i n g C l u b , and a member of the Harbour Commission. Another member o f t h e committee was t h e s e c r e t a r y t r e a s u r e r o f ..the C a i s s e d'Economie de Notre Dame, w h i l e a t h i r d was a v i c e p r e s i d e n t o f t h e Chamber o f Commerce and a prominent lumber merchant. A c i t y alderman, a hardware company owner, and a p a r t n e r i n a h e a t i n g company 29 were t h e o t h e r members o f t h e committee. The seven o t h e r major committees were made up from the same s o r t o f p e o p l e . One p o l i c e m a n , t h r e e o r f o u r " c l e r k s " and one stone c u t t e r were t h e e x c e p t i o n s t o t h e r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s o f t h e b u s i n e s s community, who had a v o t i n g m a j o r i t y and who d i r e c t l y d e c i d e d t h e form and c o n t e n t o f t h e c a r n i v a l . (See Table III, Appendix) . What A l a n M e t c a l f e has c a l l e d the E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g M o n t r e a l e l i t e ' s " s o c i a l s p o r t s " were t h e ones c e l e b r a t e d a t t h e M o n t r e a l w i n t e r c a r n i v a l s i n t h e 1880's and a t Quebec i n 1894. The snowshoe c l u b s and t h e c l u b s devoted t o two o r f o u r - h o r s e tandem s l e i g h r i d i n g were t h e w i n t e r c o u n t e r p a r t s o f t h e y a c h t , g o l f and hunt c l u b s and were, wrote M e t c a l f e , " s p o r t s t h a t were c e n t r a l t o t h e s o c i a l l i f e o f t h e upper - 68 - segments o f M o n t r e a l s o c i e t y " . ^ A t some l e v e l s , s p o r t was secondary t o the s o c i a l f u n c t i o n t h e s e c l u b s f u l f i l l e d . In t h e s e s p o r t s , t h e "amateur i d e a l " o f gentlemen and t h e c u l t i - v a t i o n o f d e s i r a b l e s o c i a l q u a l i t i e s as opposed t o c o m p e t i t i o n were h e l d up as models f o r s o c i e t y . The p r o p o s a l f o r M o n t r e a l ' s f i r s t c a r n i v a l ' ' . i n 1883 came from j u s t such an "amateur" 31 a t h l e t i c a s s o c i a t i o n . I t i s p o s s i b l e t o a p p l y M e t c a l f e ' s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n t o Quebec C i t y and i t s c a r n i v a l as w e l l as t o the amateur a t h l e t i c a s s o c i a t i o n s o f t h e b i n a t i o n a l b u s i n e s s community t h e r e . The c a r n i v a l a l s o r e v e a l s a p a t t e r n o f s o c i a l i n t e r a c t i o n among t h e c i t y ' s e l i t e t h a t i s c o n s i s t e n t w i t h t h e t i e s a l r e a d y e x i s t i n g between them i n b u s i n e s s ^ l i f e , on the Chamber o f Commerce, t h e C i t y C o u n c i l , and on t h e boards o f t h e v a r i o u s p u b l i c companies l i k e t h e r a i l w a y s , the n a v i g a t i o n companies and t h e r e l a t i v e l y new power companies, i n d i c a t i n g a c l o s e l y - i n t e g r a t e d b i n a t i o n a l b u s i n e s s community. A p a r t from t h e s e b u s i n e s s - r e l a t e d a c t i v i t i e s , t h e common ground f o r many appears t o have been t h e amateur a t h l e t i c a s s o c i a t i o n s . From i t s l i s t o f o f f i c e r s , t h e Quebec Amateur A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n (QAAA) appears t o have brought t o g e t h e r some o f t h e upper l e v e l s o f Quebec S o c i e t y . Former P r e m i e r , the Hon. H.G. J o l y de L o t b i n i e r e was i t s h o n o r a r y p r e s i d e n t , w h i l e i t s h o n o r a r y v i c e p r e s i d e n t s were the mayor o f t h e c i t y , J.C. Fremont, the.Hon. T.C. C a s g r a i n , a l a w y e r and t h e p r o v i n c i a l A t t o r n e y - G e n e r a l a t the t i m e , and two - 69 - prominent l o c a l w h o l e s a l e g r o c e r s . These were h o n o r i f i c p o s i t i o n s b u t t h e w o r k i n g e x e c u t i v e o f f i v e o f f i c e r s and t h e e i g h t member "Committee" c o n t a i n e d a r e p r e s e n t a t i v e group o f businessmen. A l l but t h r e e o f t h e s e men were i n v o l v e d on a t l e a s t one c a r n i v a l committee, m a i n l y t h e e x e c u t i v e o r f i n a n c e committees w h i l e the more j u n i o r members s e r v e d on t h e s p o r t i n g committees. The A s s o c i a t i o n a t h l e ' t i q u e de S a i n t - R o c h de Qu§bec appears t o have been a s m a l l e r o r g a n i z a t i o n w i t h i t s o f f i c e r s p l a y i n g j u n i o r r o l e s i n t h e c a r n i v a l o r g a n i z a t i o n , a l t h o u g h i t s p r e s i d e n t , t h e f u r r i e r L a l i b e r t ^ , was a n o t a b l e f o r c e . As f a r as i t s o f f i c e r s were c o n c e r n e d , t h e QAAA appears t o have been an E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g body and the S t . Roch A s s o c i a t i o n a F r e n c h s p e a k i n g one. The presence o f a few members o f b o t h e t h n i c groups on each body, however, i n d i c a t e s t h a t t h e e t h n i c d i v i s i o n s were somewhat f l u i d . Members o f b o t h b o d i e s a l s o engaged i n t h e same .kinds o f b u s i n e s s and b o t h c l u b s had members on a t h i r d body t h a t c o n t r i b u t e d many members t o the c a r n i v a l o r g a n i z a t i o n : t h e Quebec C i t y Chamber o f Commerce. The Chamber has l o n g been r e c o g n i z e d as a moving f o r c e i n t h e economic l i f e o f t h e c i t y by r e p r e s e n t i n g t h e c i t y ' s b u s i n e s s i n t e r e s t s . I t s s t r o n g i n f l u e n c e on t h e c i t y ' s s o c i a l and c u l t u r a l development has been o f t e n i g n o r e d , though t h e r e were some s e c t i o n s o f t h e c i t y ' s w o r k i n g c l a s s who c o u l d have t e s t i f i e d t o i t s r u t h l e s s i n f l u e n c e when i t came t o 32 m a t t e r s a f f e c t i n g t h e w o r k e r s ' i n t e r e s t s . I n t h e 1890's, o t h e r members o f t h e Chamber c o u l d be found i n a v a r i e t y o f the - 70 - c i t y ' s c u l t u r a l and c i v i c o r g a n i z a t i o n s such as t h e L i t e r a r y and H i s t o r i c a l S o c i e t y , the S t . George S o c i e t y and even t h e 33 S o c i e t y f o r t h e P r e v e n t i o n o f C r u e l t y t o A n i m a l s . What t h i s s u g g e s t s i s t h a t t h e many i n t e r n a l l i n k s o f t h e l o c a l o l i g a r c h y extended a c r o s s a l l s e c t o r s o f t h e c i t y ' s l i f e , be t h e y c u l - t u r a l , economic, p o l i t i c a l , o r s o c i a l . The c a r n i v a l was t h e f e s t i v e embodiment o f t h a t group o f p e o p l e : t h e hommes ..... . d ' a f f a i r e s . I I I . The Event The s i x - d a y c a r n i v a l opened a t n i n e i n t h e morning on J a n u a r y 29, 1894 i n a r a t h e r low key f a s h i o n w i t h a c u r l i n g match, but o f f i c i a l ceremonies r e a l l y began t h a t a f t e r n o o n . To see what was b e i n g o f f e r e d t o t h e l o c a l and v i s i t i n g p u b l i c , one s h o u l d l o o k a t t h e c a r n i v a l e v e n t s i n some d e t a i l . Each day's e v e n t s were a b l e n d o f s p o r t s , s p e c t a c l e s , a n d c u l t u r a l and s o c i a l e v e n t s . Each e v e n t c o n t a i n e d elements o f amusement w h i l e r e i n f o r c i n g s o c i a l v a l u e s . The d i d a c t i c and s o c i a l i z i n g a s p e c t s o f t h e c a r n i v a l o f 1894 make a r e a d a b l e " t e x t " o f t h e s o c i a l and c u l t u r a l v a l u e s o f i t s a c t i v e p a r t i c i p a n t s . That element o f c o n t i n u i t y w i t h a l l t h e o l d e r c a r n i v a l s must be kept, i n mind. I n common w i t h t h o s e o l d e r c a r n i v a l s and p r e - i n d u s t r i a l community g a t h e r i n g s , t h e new c a r n i v a l a l l o w e d members o f b o t h sexes t o m i n g l e w i t h each o t h e r r a t h e r more f r e e l y t h a n a t many o t h e r t i m e s o f t h e y e a r , but as P e t e r B a i l e y so a p t l y p o i n t s o u t , - 71 - t h e s k a t i n g r i n k and o t h e r amusements i n c o r p o r a t e d i n t o t h e c a r n i v a l s a l s o p e r m i t t e d m i d d l e c l a s s v i g i l a n c e over t h e mores o f i t s young, r e p r o d u c i n g t h e "mutual v i g i l a n c e w h i c h a c t e d as a s o c i a l d i s c i p l i n e i n t h e s m a l l town m i l i e u " , but which 34 was more d i f f i c u l t t o m a i n t a i n i n an urban s e t t i n g . The f i r s t day o f t h e c a r n i v a l was t a k e n up w i t h i n a u g u r a t i n g the c e l e b r a t i o n . The f i r s t was t h e o p e n i n g o f t h e i c e p a l a c e i n the e a r l y a f t e r n o o n . At 2:30, and b e f o r e a l a r g e crowd o f s p e c t a t o r s Mayor Fremont and a number o f t h e c i t y ' s l e a d i n g c i t i z e n s o f f i c i a l l y opened t h e g o t h i c s t r u c t u r e made from i c e b l o c k s from t h e r i v e r . S i t t i n g on t h e E s p l a n a d e , atop t h e o l d c i t y w a l l , a c r o s s from t h e L e g i s l a t u r e , the p a l a c e measured one hundred twenty f e e t l o n g by f i f t y f e e t wide. I t s c e n t r a l tower was s i x t y - t h r e e f e e t i n h e i g h t and f l e w t h e r e d e n s i g n w h i l e t h e s m a l l e r s i d e towers and t u r r e t s f l e w t h e f l a g s o f the U n i t e d S t a t e s , France and B r i t a i n . A t n i g h t i t was l i t up from the i n s i d e w i t h w h i t e and c o l o u r e d e l e c t r i c l i g h t s . Though perhaps i t was n o t q u i t e as l a r g e as some o f t h e i c e s t r u c t u r e s a t t h e M o n t r e a l c a r n i v a l s , t h i s p a l a c e ' s s i t u a t i o n a t o p the c i t y f o r t i f i c a t i o n s and i t s d e s i g n provoked g e n e r a l a d m i r a t i o n and many e c s t a t i c d e s c r i p t i o n s s u r v i v e . I t was d e s i g n e d by M.D. Raymond, a l o c a l a r c h i t e c t and b u i l t by t h e f i r m o f 35 Cummings and Sharp. The n e x t event was s u f f u s e d w i t h c u l t u r a l symbolism and r e p r e s e n t e d one d i s t i n c t i v e l y F r e n c h Canadian element i n the c a r n i v a l . A f t e r t h e o p e n i n g o f t h e p a l a c e , t h e crowds moved t h e s h o r t d i s t a n c e from t h e c i t y w a l l t o t h e square i n f r o n t o f t h e C a t h o l i c B a s i l i c a , a d i s t a n c e o f about f i v e or s i x b l o c k s . Here, t h r e e i c e s t a t u e s by t h e famous s c u l p t o r , L o u i s J o b i n d e p i c t i n g Champlain, L a v a l , and Breboeuf were u n v e i l e d . The c h o i c e o f t h e s e t h r e e h i s t o r i c f i g u r e s was r e v e a l i n g . Champlain had founded t h e c i t y i n 16 08, L a v a l was i t s f i r s t b i s h o p and Breboeuf was one o f t h e f i r s t C a t h o l i c m a r t y r s i n N o r t h A m e r i c a . T h i s t r i n i t y e x p r e s s e d l o c a l p r i d e and t h e v a l u e s o f F r e n c h Canada's C a t h o l i c n a t i o n a l i s m . T h i s was a l s o t h e one event i n w h i c h t h e Church was p r e s e n t . The s t u d e n t s o f L a v a l U n i v e r s i t y and the seminary w h i c h f a c e onto t h a t square p a r t i c i p a t e d i n t h i s q u a s i - r e l i g i o u s ceremony by s i n g i n g t h e "Cantate de Mgr. L a v a l " as t h e d r a p e r i e s were removed from t h e s t a t u e s . R e l i g i o n and p o l i t i c s were t h u s b l e n d e d and t h i s r e f l e c t e d t h e b l u r r e d d i s t i n c t i o n o f t h e t i m e , L' Evetiement s t a t e d t h a t " l e deVoilement des s t a t u e s peut 36 •etre a p p e l e une d e m o n s t r a t i o n e s s e n t i e l l e m e n t p o l i t i q u e ! ! . Other e v e n t s o f t h e day d i d not e x p r e s s c u l t u r a l v a l u e s so b l u n t l y . A b o w l i n g tournament was h e l d a t t h e rooms o f t h e S t . Roch A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n ; a "Tea" a t the s k a t i n g r i n k , and f i r e w o r k s i n L e V i s , a c r o s s t h e r i v e r from t h e c i t y , as w e l l as an i l l u m i n a t i o n o f t h e C i t a d e l and t h e D u f f e r i n T e r r a c e and t h e o p e n i n g o f a toboggan s l i d e completed the day. An u n e x p e c t e d l y heavy snowstorm d e l a y e d t h e e v e n t s o f t h e n e x t day so t h a t the "Tandem D r i v e " , a parade o f t h e s l e i g h s o f prominent c i t i z e n s , was postponed u n t i l t h e end o f t h e c a r n i v a l . The a r r i v a l o f t h e G o v e r n o r - G e n e r a l and h i s p a r t y was a l s o d e l a y e d f o r s e v e r a l h o u r s , and by t h e n , t h e c i t y was knee-deep i n snow. Thousands l i n e d the s t r e e t s as members o f t h e v a r i o u s snowshoe c l u b s who had u n h i t c h e d t h e h o r s e s on t h e s l e i g h c o n t a i n i n g L o r d and Lady Aberdeen and t h e i r two c h i l d r e n p u l l e d i t up t h e h i l l from t h e CPR S t a t i o n . They passed under a number o f t r i u m p h a l " l i v i n g " a r c h e s , ~ which were s t r u c t u r e s manned by enough snowshoers so as t o resemble a human archway, t o t h e Chateau F r o n t e n a c where t h e y 37 were s t a y i n g . The r e s t o f t h e day was devoted t o e v e n t s on i c e i n c l u d i n g a s k a t i n g l a c r o s s e match as w e l l as a b i c y c l e r a c e and a s k a t i n g championship. That e v e n i n g , a "Fancy Dress Masquerade B a l l " was h e l d a t t h e s k a t i n g r i n k a t t e n d e d by l a r g e crowds o f p e o p l e . There was n o . s p e c i a l s i g n i f i c a n c e t o t h e costumes w h i c h Lady Aberdeen n o t e d , " l o o k e d a i r y f o r s k a t i n g p u r p o s e s , but the e f f e c t of. k n i g h t s and s u l t a n s and Mikados and s a i l o r s and peasant g i r l s o f a l l n a t i o n s and v a r i o u s s y m b o l i c a l and a l l e g o r i c a l f i g u r e s s k a t i n g t h r o u g h t h e dances w i t h t h e utmost grace and ease was a s i g h t t o .. . v.. 3 8 remember". However, t h e f u n was l i m i t e d f o r t h o s e who c o u l d a f f o r d t o a c q u i r e a costume and pay the p r i c e o f a d m i s s i o n . S k a t i n g , b o w l i n g , s l i d i n g , t o b o g g a n i n g and c u r l i n g took up t h e d a y l i g h t hours on Wednesday J a n u a r y 31. That n i g h t , the " e x c e p t i o n a l l y b r i l l i a n t " Grand B a l l a t t h e P a r l i a m e n t B u i l d i n g s i n honour o f L o r d and Lady Aberdeen brought - 74 - t o g e t h e r t h e s o c i a l l y l e a d i n g members o f t h e community and t h e i r f r i e n d s . Amid t h e t w i n k l e o f diamonds and e m e r a l d s , 39 b a l l gowns, b l a c k f o r m a l d r e s s and m i l i t a r y u n i f o r m s , L o r d and Lady Aberdeen, P r e m i e r T a i l l o n o f Quebec, a number o f p r o v i n c i a l p o l i t i c i a n s , j u d g e s , m i l i t a r y men and l e a d i n g businessmen d i n e d and danced u n t i l dawn i n b o t h Chambers o f 40 t h e L e g i s l a t u r e t o the music o f m i l i t a r y bands. I t was c o n s i d e r e d t o be the major s o c i a l event o f t h e season. E a r l y Thursday morning, a t 9:00 a.m., the m i l i t a r y had i t s o p p o r t u n i t y t o s t a g e a s p e c t a c l e on t h e P l a i n s o f Abraham. The s o l d i e r s o f t h e C i t a d e l h e l d a m i l i t a r y r e v i e w i n w i n t e r d r e s s and snowshoes and t h e n engaged i n a mock s i e g e o f t h e f o r t r e s s . Two hours l a t e r , an event t h a t i s s t i l l an i n t e g r a l p a r t o f t h e modern c a r n i v a l took p l a c e when t h e canoe r a c e a c r o s s t h e S t . Lawrence from L e v i s was h e l d . The number o f o n l o o k e r s was l a r g e because t h e day had been d e c l a r e d a c i v i c h o l i d a y . Many o r most s t o r e s and b u s i n e s s e s c l o s e d e a r l y o r d i d not open a t a l l , i n o r d e r t h a t t h e i r employees 41 c o u l d a l s o e n j o y some o f t h e c a r n i v a l . T h i s r e f l e c t e d t h e h i g h degree o f s u p p o r t f o r t h e c a r n i v a l i n t h e b u s i n e s s community. . I n t h e a f t e r n o o n , t h e c a r n i v a l parade wound i t s way t h r o u g h t h e s t r e e t s o f t h e Upper and Lower Town and t h r o u g h S t . Roch, p a s s i n g under t h e v a r i o u s t r i u m p h a l a r c h e s and p a s t the i c e c a r v i n g s e r e c t e d by p r i v a t e c i t i z e n s . The event was d e s c r i b e d as "grande, nombreuse, superbe de c h i c e t ... _ - 75 - d ' o r i g i n a l i t e e t s i n g u l i e r e m e n t b i e n a p p r o p r i e e au c a r n a v a l . P l u s i e u r s c e n t a i n e s de p e r s o n n e s , un grand nombre de chevaux e t une c e n t a i n e de c h a r s a l l e g o r i q u e s de t o u t e s d i m e n s i o n s , de t o u t e s c o u l e u r s e t r e p r e s e n t a n t t o u t e s l e s i n d u s t r i e s 42 c a n a d i e n n e s " . Some o f t h e wagons i n c l u d e d t h o s e o f t h e amateur a t h l e t i c and snowshoe c l u b s , h i s t o r i c a l s l e i g h s w i t h scenes "of t h e l a s t c e n t u r y " , a c a r from L a v a l U n i v e r s i t y , one o f t h e Huron I n d i a n s o f L o r e t t e , a c a r o f t h e T y p o g r a p h i c a l U n i o n , c a r s from a few l o c a l b u s i n e s s e s and a number o f "comic" c a r s . To make the s i m i l a r i t y w i t h modern c i v i c parades i n Canada c o m p l e t e , t h e f i r e department as w e l l as v a r i o u s m i l i t a r y u n i t s complete w i t h t h e i r bands p a r t i c i p a t e d i n t h e p r o c e s s i o n . Though l a c k i n g t h e modern i n n o v a t i o n o f beauty queens r e p r e s e n t i n g b l u s h i n g maidenhood, w h i c h would l a t e r be a s t a p l e o f t h e Quebec c a r n i v a l i n the p e r s o n s o f t h e " p r i n c e s s e s " , t h e r e were s l e i g h s f o r t h e v a r i o u s d i g n i - t a r i e s l i k e t h e G o v e r n o r - G e n e r a l and t h e mayor and t h e 43 c a r n i v a l p r e s i d e n t . That n i g h t a c o n c e r t a t t h e D r i l l H a l l on Grande Alle"e a t t r a c t e d f i v e thousand p e o p l e . The e n t e r t a i n m e n t c o n s i s t e d o f snowshoe c l u b songs, songs by "gentlemen amateurs, and an a d d r e s s t o t h e c a r n i v a l v i s i t o r s by t h e c a r n i v a l p r e s i d e n t , J o l y de L o t b i n i e r e . J u l e s V e z i n a who was a l r e a d y a c q u i r i n g some fame as a composer c o n d u c t e d some f o u r hundred r "• m u s i c i a n s and c h o r i s t e r s i n v a r i o u s c l u b songs, and i n s i n g i n g " A i r s c a n a d i e n s " and " A i r s n a t i o n a u x " . Between - 76 - the f i r s t and second p a r t s o f t h e c o n c e r t , d e s c r i b e d by F a i r c h i l d as " r e a l l y the f i n e s t c o n c e r t t h a t has e v e r been h e l d i n t h i s c i t y " , t h e f i n a l tug-of-war c o n t e s t was h e l d . L'Evenement was more c r i t i c a l , though no l e s s a p p r e c i a t i v e . The c o n c e r t was d e s c r i b e d as h a v i n g a " c a r a c t e r e e s s e n t i e l l e - ment p o p u l a i r e e t de n a t u r e a p l a i r e a l a f o u l e , plutSt 44 q.u'aux d e l i c a t s " . The n e x t day c o n t i n u e d t h e p a t t e r n o f t h e e a r l i e s t p a r t o f the c a r n i v a l w i t h s p o r t s e v e n t s d u r i n g t h e day and s o c i a l i z i n g and i l l u m i n a t e d s p e c t a c l e s i n t h e e v e n i n g . S k a t i n g and hockey began t h a t day, a f a n c y d r e s s b a l l f o r c h i l d r e n was h e l d on t h e i c e o f t h e s k a t i n g r i n k i n t h e l a t e a f t e r n o o n , but t h e n i g h t was devoted t o what may have been g r a n d e s t s p e c t a c l e o f a l l . T h i s "grand s p e c t a c u l a r drama", i n t h e words o f one o f t h e main o r g a n i z e r s o f t h e c a r n i v a l , was t h e mock b a t t l e around the c a r n i v a l i c e p a l a c e . T h i s was t h e e n d u r i n g and d r a m a t i c symbol o f t h e whole c a r n i v a l , and one w h i c h c a p t u r e d t h e i m a g i n a t i o n o f a l l concerned. T w e n t y - f i v e hundred snowshoers from l o c a l c l u b s w i t h members o f t h e E i g h t h R o y a l R i f l e s and the R o y a l Canadian A r t i l l e r y p a r t i c i p a t e d i n t h e b a t t l e . The a t t a c k e r s proceeded from t h e o r n a t e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e D r i l l H a l l down t h e Grande A l l e e w e a r i n g b l a n k e t c o a t s , "tuques , and b r a i d e d b e l t s each b e a r i n g a t o r c h . As t h e y approached the p a l a c e , w h i c h was l i t up w i t h r e d and green e l e c t r i c l i g h t s , a f i r e - works d i s p l a y l a s t i n g n e a r l y t h r e e q u a r t e r s o f an hour and - 77 - c o s t i n g f o u r thousand d o l l a r s , n e a r l y h a l f t h e c a r n i v a l ' s budget, ensued. The f i f t y t o s i x t y thousand p e o p l e p r e s e n t . then watched as t h e . t o r c h b e a r e r s manned the c i t y w a l l s on e i t h e r s i d e o f t h e p a l a c e and marched and countermarched t h r o u g h i t b e f o r e p a r a d i n g t h r o u g h t h e s t r e e t s o f t h e c i t y . The number o f s p e c t a t o r s a t t h i s event a l o n e was e q u a l t o the 45 e n t i r e p o p u l a t i o n o f t h e c i t y , i f t h e e s t i m a t e s were c o r r e c t . That number s u g g e s t s something about the p o p u l a r a p p e a l o f the s p e c t a c l e . As u s e f u l as t h e n a r r a t i v e o f e v e r y event i s t o a p p r e c i a t e t h e c a r n i v a l , i t can be s a i d t h a t i t b a s i c a l l y had r e a l l y o n l y f o u r main components. The program was made up o f s p o r t , s p e c t a c l e , s o c i a l i z i n g a c t i v i t i e s and c u l t u r a l e v e n t s . The s p o r t i n g e v e n t s were t h e o s t e n s i b l e r e a s o n f o r h o l d i n g t h e c a r n i v a l and many members o f t h e l o c a l snowshoe and amateur a t h l e t i c c l u b s r e g a r d e d t h i s as t h e main r e a s o n f o r t h e i r p a r t i c i p a t i o n . I n t e r e s t was i n t e n s e , f o r example, i n the hockey game between M o n t r e a l and Quebec C i t y . B u t , i t might be f a i r t o say t h a t t h o s e who got t h e most out o f ... . v . . t h e s e e v e n t s were t h e a c t u a l p a r t i c i p a n t s and t h o s e l i k e them who had t h e money and l e i s u r e t o become i n v o l v e d i n what were s t i l l gentlemen's r e c r e a t i o n a l a c t i v i t i e s . Many o f the s p e c t a c l e s , w h i l e h a v i n g a mass a u d i e n c e , s t i l l e x p r e s s e d t h e i n t e r e s t s o f a s m a l l p a r t o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n . T h i s was e s p e c i a l l y .true o f the "Tandem D r i v e " which o c c u r r e d on t h e l a s t day o f t h e c a r n i v a l . I t was a parade o f t h e w e l l - - 78 - to-do c i t i z e n s d r i v i n g t h e i r s l e i g h s t h r o u g h t h e s t r e e t s o f t h e c i t y , a v i s i b l e d i s p l a y o f w e a l t h and s o c i a l r a n k . The m i l i t a r y r e v i e w and t h e Grand B a l l were o t h e r o c c a s i o n s f o r the l o c a l e l i t e t o d i s p l a y i t s e l f . None o f them c a l l e d f o r p a r t i c i p a t i o n by anyone a p a r t from t h e a c t u a l " p e r f o r m e r s " , though c e r t a i n l y a l a r g e a u d i e n c e was r e q u i r e d . Humbler s e c t i o n s o f t h e community may o r may not have had t h e i r own c e l e b r a t i o n s but t h e y had no p a r t i n t h e c a r n i v a l ' s o f f i c i a l program. There remained a d i s t i n c t i o n between v a l u e s o f the e l i t e and p o p u l a r c u l t u r e . The a c t u a l " c u l t u r a l " c o n t e n t o f t h e c a r n i v a l was a l s o h a r d t o d e f i n e . C e r t a i n l y t h e ceremony o f t h e i c e s t a t u e s i n f r o n t o f t h e b a s i l i c a r e p r e s e n t e d a k i n d o f c l e r i c a l n a t i o n a l i s m c o n c e n t r a t i n g on the r e l i g i o u s a s p e c t s o f Quebec h i s t o r y . The o t h e r o f f i c i a l c a r n i v a l i c e c a r v i n g s , l i k e t h a t o f F r o n t e n a c atop a l a r g e dome o f i c e o r t h a t o f Jacques C a r t i e r on t o p o f a " l i v i n g " archway a t the c o r n e r o f S t . Joseph and Crown S t r e e t s i n S t . Roch, added t o t h e F r e n c h 46 Canadian c o n t e n t . But F r e n c h Canadian c u l t u r e i n t h i s most F r e n c h Canadian o f p l a c e s was by no means predominant. The i c e s t a t u e near t h e C i t a d e l o f t h e u n f o r t u n a t e American G e n e r a l Montgomery who d i e d w h i l e h i s t r o o p s were r e t r e a t i n g from t h e u n s u c c e s s f u l s i e g e o f t h e c i t y i n 1776, was no doubt i n t e n d e d f o r t h e many American v i s i t o r s who l o o k e d upon him as a R e v o l u t i o n a r y h e r o . The same must be s a i d f o r the American f l a g s on many o f t h e c a r n i v a l b u i l d i n g s and a r c h e s which hung o r f l e w b e s i d e t h e B r i t i s h and F r e n c h ones. An archway i n t h e shape o f t h e E i f f e l tower added a n o t h e r odd c u l t u r a l element, a b l e n d o f m o d e r n i t y and F r e n c h c u l t u r e . The c a r n i v a l r e a l l y r e p r e s e n t e d a m i x t u r e o f c u l t u r e s and t h i s e x p l a i n s i t s a m b i g u i t y . The presence o f so many American t o u r i s t s , and t h e aim o f a t t r a c t i n g them i n t h e f i r s t p l a c e w i t h the a t t e n d a n t f l a g s and s t a t u e s , a l o n g w i t h t h e d e s i r e t o p r e s e n t t h e c i t y t o them as an O l d World C i t y i n N o r t h A m e r i c a may have made t h a t c o n f u s i o n i n e v i t a b l e . I t must be p o i n t e d out t h a t some o f t h e emphasis on the l o c a l and F r e n c h Canadian c o n t e n t o f the c a r n i v a l was because t h o s e E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g r e s i d e n t s who wished t o p r o c l a i m t h e c i t y ' s uniqueness were among t h e most a r d e n t promoters o f i t s 47 F r e n c h Canadian c h a r a c t e r . I n t o t a l however, the c a r n i v a l was a r a t h e r e c l e c t i c and even h a p h a z a r d - b l e n d o f F r e n c h Canadian, B r i t i s h , E n g l i s h - C a n a d i a n and American elements t h a t were perhaps chosen as "crowd p l e a s e r s " . The i c e p a l a c e , t h e c e n t r a l s p e c t a c l e o f t h e c a r n i v a l , i s a good example o f commercial e c l e c t i c i s m t h a t became a t r a d i t i o n i n i t s own r i g h t . .In i t s own t i m e , the " e x p e r t s " did..not t a k e i t a l l t h a t s e r i o u s l y b u t a c e n t u r y l a t e r , and h a l l o w e d by r e p e a t e d use i t became " H e r i t a g e " . The p a l a c e had no c u l t u r a l r o o t s i n Quebec but i t became, and s t i l l i s an i m p o r t a n t element o f t h e event i n the minds o f many who know l i t t l e e l s e about t h e . c a r n i v a l . The M o n t r e a l papers o f t h e 1880's, i n e x p l a i n i n g t h e i c e p a l a c e s , ...traced t h e i r o r i g i n s - 80 - 48 t o a w i n t e r f e s t i v a l a t the I m p e r i a l R u s s i a n C o u r t i n 1732. T h i s c u l t u r a l e c l e c t i c i s m o f t h e c a r n i v a l s h o u l d not be s u r p r i s i n g f o r an age t h a t , i n Canada, b u i l t G o t h i c churches and p a r l i a m e n t b u i l d i n g s , CPR h o t e l s t h a t l o o k e d l i k e R e n a i s s a n c e c h a t e a u x , banks r e m i n i s c e n t o f c l a s s i c a l templejS t h e Grande A l l e e Armoury, t h e m e d i e v a l g a t e s i n Quebec C i t y and even p l a n n e d , as d i d L o r d D u f f e r i n , t o e r e c t a new C h a t e a u — S t . - L o u i s a t Quebec t h a t l o o k e d l i k e a c r o s s between the U n i v e r s i t y C o l l e g e a t T o r o n t o and the E a s t B l o c k o f t h e 49 P a r l i a m e n t B u i l d i n g s i n Ottawa. I t appears t o e x p r e s s a v a g u e l y - f e l t d e s i r e t o r e t a i n , i n the words o f a w r i t e r a t t h e M o n t r e a l C a r n i v a l o f 1884, "much t h a t i s worthy o f r e p r o - 50 d u c t i o n from the s t o r e s o f l e g e n d and remote h i s t o r y " . I t i s a l s o some i n d i c a t i o n t h a t t h e community saw t h e p a s t as a n o s t a l g i c s t o r e h o u s e o f consumable " e x p e r i e n c e s " , b o t h f o r i t s e l f and f o r o u t s i d e r s . I V . The A f t e r m a t h W i t h t h e end o f t h e c a r n i v a l c e l e b r a t i o n s , a l l v o i c e s were r a i s e d i n p r a i s e o f i t s s u c c e s s . That s u c c e s s was c a l c u l a t e d i n e v e r y way: f i n a n c i a l l y , i n numbers o f p e o p l e a t t r a c t e d , and, l e s s t a n g i b l y , i n t h e enhancement o f t h e c i t y ' s r e p u t a t i o n , and i n t h e s t r e n g t h e n i n g o f t h e community's own i n t e r n a l s o c i a l bonds. The D a i l y T e l e g r a p h e s t i m a t e d t h a t t h e some 25,000 v i s i t o r s , o r about 15,000 on any one day i n t h e c i t y , spent - 81 - about $450,000 over t h e c o u r s e o f t h e e v e n t . W i t h 16,000 a r r i v i n g by t r a i n from t h e p r e v i o u s S a t u r d a y t o Thursday, an e s t i m a t e d 6,000 more on Thursday and F r i d a y a l o n e , t h i s l e f t about 3,000 p e o p l e who were assumed t o have come from t h e 51 s u r r o u n d i n g d i s t r i c t s . The F r e n c h language p r e s s a l s o c o n s i d e r e d t h e event a s u c c e s s , though i t s s t a n d a r d s o f measurement were a l i t t l e b r o a d e r . The good p u b l i c i t y f o r the c i t y w h i c h t h e c a r n i v a l had g e n e r a t e d , i t was s a i d by L'Evenement, would r e s u l t i n c o u n t l e s s , f u t u r e m a t e r i a l b e n e f i t s : En venant i c i par amusement, des gens q u i ont .. des c a p i t a u x a f l a n e r dans l e s banques, t r o u v e r o n t probablement 1 * o c c a s i o n d ' e x p l o i t e r c e r t a i n e s r e s s o u r c e s de n o t r e d i s t r i c t , e t i n a u g e r o n t p e u t - e t r e des e n t r e p r i s e s a l e u r b e n e f i c e e t a n o t r e avantage. I n an e q u a l l y i m p o r t a n t way, the joyous c e l e b r a t i o n s o f c a r n i v a l week were seen t o have had a b e n e f i c i a l e f f e c t on the community as a whole. T h i s c o n s i d e r a t i o n , and even a p r e - o c c u p a t i o n , o c c u r r e d more f r e q u e n t l y i n t h e F r e n c h language p r e s s t h a n i n i t s E n g l i s h language c o u n t e r p a r t . N. L e v a s s e u r , w r i t i n g i n L'Evenement, somewhat o p t i m i s t i c a l l y saw t h e c a r n i v a l as t h e b e g i n n i n g o f a new p e r i o d o f p o l i t i c a l and s o c i a l harmony f o r Quebec. S i m i l a r l y , h i s contemporary Pamphile LeMay saw t h e e f f e c t o f p u b l i c r e j o i c i n g i n g e n e r a l as s t r e n g t h e n i n g the t i e s between members o f s o c i e t y j u s t as f a m i l y g a t h e r i n g s brought t h a t b a s i c u n i t o f s o c i e t y t o g e t h e r p h y s i c a l l y and s p i r i t u a l l y . L e v a s s e u r c o n c l u d e d : - 82 - ...esperons que ce ne s e r a pas l a d e r n i e r e , e t que l e c a r n a v a l de 1894 a u r a s e r v i de p e r i o d e t r a n s i t o i r e , a u r a e t e comme une s o r t e de p o i n t j e t e de 1 ' e s p r i t de d e s u n i o n e t d ' a p a t h i e du passe a l a f r a t e r n i t e e t a 1 ' e s p r i t p u b l i c de l ' a v e n i r . 5 3 I n the warm a f t e r g l o w o f t h e c a r n i v a l , the i n t e r n a l t e n s i o n s o f t h e c i t y seemed u n i m p o r t a n t . For a b r i e f time s o c i a l r a n k s and o t h e r d i s t i n c t i o n s appeared t o e v a p o r a t e . To L e v a s s e u r , t h e c a r n i v a l belonged "non d'un f a u b o u r g , mais de t o u t e une v i l l e , a u q u e l t o u s , pauvres e t r i c h e s , ont — 5 4 c o n t r i b u e avec un e n t r a i n q u i r e j o u i s s a i t l e c o e u r . ' But those d i s t i n c t i o n s o f neighbourhood o r w e a l t h d i d not d i s a p p e a r . As a r e t r e a t from the t e n s i o n s o f d a i l y l i f e , o f c o u r s e , t h e s i x day f e s t i v a l c o u l d not r e a l l y be e x p e c t e d t o r e c o n c i l e , l e t a l o n e e r a s e , t h e s o c i a l and economic c o m p l e x i - t i e s o f t h e modern c i t y o f Quebec. What seemed t o be a tempo- r a r y escape from s o c i a l r e a l i t y i n f a c t , r e i n f o r c e d i t by c e l e b r a t i n g t h e most b a s i c o f d i s t i n c t i o n s between t h e r i c h . and t h e poor o f t h e c i t y . The hope t h a t t h i s c a r n i v a l had a c t e d as a s o c i a l l e v e l l e r c o u l d have o n l y been e x p r e s s e d by t h o s e who had not e x p e r i e n c e d t h e w i d t h o f t h e g u l f s e p a r a t i n g the e l i t e and the humble. I n 1896, t h e c i t y h e l d a n o t h e r even more s u c c e s s f u l c a r n i v a l , f o r w h i c h t h e p l a n n i n g was more e l a b o r a t e , t h e d e c o r a t i o n s more sumptuous, t h e a t t e n d a n c e g r e a t e r , and t h e c o m m e r c i a l a m b i t i o n s even g r a n d e r . ^ T.G. Shaughnessy o f t h e Canadian P a c i f i c Railway, s u g g e s t e d h o l d i n g a c a r n i v a l e v e r y y e a r and " e x t e n d i n g i t over two weeks i n s t e a d o f m e r e l y one r - 83 - because, as he s a i d , w e a l t h y Americans d i d not c a r e t o d i s t u r b t h e m s e l v e s and come on here f o r m e r e l y two or t h r e e days' f u n , but would r e a d i l y do so i n l a r g e numbers i f t h e y 56 were s u r e o f f i n d i n g e n t e r t a i n m e n t f o r a f o r t n i g h t " . I t was a l s o s u g g e s t e d t h a t t h e r e be a p a r a l l e l summer c a r n i v a l " d u r i n g t h e h i g h t i d e o f American t o u r i s t t r a v e l n e x t summer w i t h an a t t a c k and defence o f t h e C i t a d e l on a grand s c a l e by 57 the m i l i t a r y as t h e p r i n c i p a l event on the programme!!. The 1896 event appears t o have been t h e h i g h water mark o f t h e p r e - t w e n t i e t h c e n t u r y c a r n i v a l s i n Quebec C i t y . A f t e r t h a t , as J.T. Coulombe wrote i n 1927, " i l y eut quelques c a r n a v a l s , o r g a n i s e s t a n t b i e n que mal, q u i connurent p l u s ou 5 8 moins de s u c c e s " . P a r t o f t h e problem may have been t h e r e l i a n c e on a p u b l i c s u b s c r i p t i o n campaign as a means o f f u n d - i n g t h e event w h i c h the T e l e g r a p h n o t e d i n 1896 would not l i k e l y be " w i l l i n g l y f a c e d a g a i n , even by the most a r d e n t 59 a d v o c a t e s o f c a r n i v a l s p o r t s " . The s u g g e s t i o n t h a t _ t h e c i t y l e v y a s m a l l t a x i n o r d e r t o r a i s e revenue t o h o l d i t does not appear t o have been a c c e p t e d . M o n t r e a l a l s o h e l d o t h e r c a r n i v a l s , b u t by t h e second decade o f the t w e n t i e t h c e n t u r y t h e y appear t o have been much s m a l l e r i n s c a l e t h a n t h e i r p r e d e c e s s o r s . I n M o n t r e a l ' s case as w e l l , even i n the p e r i o d o f t h e s u c c e s s f u l c a r n i v a l s o f t h e 1880's, t h e r e was some q u e s t i o n t h a t the c i t y was becoming more known f o r i t s w i n t e r amusements t h a n f o r i t s b u s i n e s s o p p o r t u n i t i e s . The S t a r began t o wonder about t h e emphasis on s p o r t , n o t i n g t h a t , - 84 - a t l e a s t among gentlemen, " i t s v a l u e l i e s i n i t s b e i n g a r e c r e a t i o n from t h e s e r i o u s and arduous d u t i e s o f l i f e , not 6 0 i n b e i n g one o f l i f e ' s main i n t e r e s t s " . The r e l a t i v e l y l i m i t e d s p o r t i n g and commercial aims as w e l l as t h e main e v e n t s o f t h e c a r n i v a l s were o f a n a t u r e w h i c h a l l o w e d them t o be d u p l i c a t e d wherever t h e r e was i c e and snow so t h a t t h e major c i t i e s c o u l d no l o n g e r monopolize them. T h i s made t h e l o n g r a i l t r i p t o Quebec u n n e c e s s a r y . By t h e end o f t h e c e n t u r y t h e r e were a c c o u n t s o f s i m i l a r w i n t e r f e s t i v a l s from A l b a n y t o A l b e r t a , f u r t h e r i n d i c a t i n g t h a t t h e 6 1 model was a d a p t a b l e t o a v a r i e t y o f l o c a t i o n s . Thus f i n a n - c i a l s u p p o r t d i m i n i s h e d as t h e n o v e l t y o f t h e event waned, the a p p e a l o f Quebec's c a r n i v a l f a d e d . I t was o n l y i n F e b r u a r y 1956, when Quebec C i t y a g a i n r e v i v e d the c a r n i v a l on t h e s c a l e o f t h o s e f i r s t ones i n t h e 1890's, t h a t t h e c e l e b r a t i o n s a g a i n p r o v e d t o be v e r y s u c c e s s f u l . O r g a n i z e d by l o c a l businessmen, t h e new c a r n i v a l had a program s i m i l a r t o t h a t o f 1894 - t h e i c e p a l a c e , t h e presence and p a r t i c i p a t i o n o f t h e G o v e r n o r - G e n e r a l , t h e parade, t h e i c e s c u l p t u r e s , and t h e hundreds o f t o u r i s t s . The Quebec c a r n i v a l o f t o d a y , i s s t i l l a commercial and s e c u l a r event t h a t i s not a break from the p a s t but i s a r e s u r g e n c e o f t h e l a t e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y f e s t i v a l s . I t has, however, c o n s i d e r a b l y m o d i f i e d L o r d Aberdeen's d e f i n i t i o n o f c a r n i v a l b e h a v i o u r as d o i n g n o t h i n g " i n c o n s i s t e n t w i t h d u t y and s e l f - r e s p e c t " , and has become known as one o f t h e more famous 6 2 o c c a s i o n s f o r p u b l i c drunkenness on the c o n t i n e n t . - 85 - CHAPTER IV CONCLUSION The i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n i n Quebec was more t h a n j u s t a p h y s i c a l p r o c e s s o f b r e a k i n g down o l d communities and r e c o n s t i t u t i n g them around f a c t o r i e s . I t a l s o i n v o l v e d t h e " d e s t r u c t i o n o f memories" by agents o u t s i d e and i n s i d e the community and t h e i r r e p l a c e m e n t w i t h new c u l t u r a l forms and r i t u a l s , as t h e e x p e r i e n c e o f the c a r n i v a l i n d i c a t e s . The i n t e r r e l a t i o n s h i p o f t h e changes i n t h e s o c i e t y and t h e c u l t u r e o f F r e n c h Canada over t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y was a complex one. The r e s u l t o f t h e p r o c e s s cannot s i m p l y be c a l l e d an a l i e n a t e d s o c i e t y r e p l a c i n g "the w o r l d we have l o s t " . That m y s t i f i e s t h e whole p r o c e s s . The n a t u r e o f t h e change, the development o f a more complex urban i n d u s t r i a l s o c i e t y was u n d o u b t e d l y a mixed b l e s s i n g f o r the o r d i n a r y p e o p l e o f t h e t i m e . One o f t h e immediate r e s u l t s was a l i e n a t i o n from t h e p o p u l a r c u l t u r e w h i c h had s u s t a i n e d t h e F r e n c h Canadian r u r a l and urban communities s i n c e t h e e a r l i e s t days. But t h e p r o - c e s s o f a l i e n a t i o n was p r e s e n t i n t h e c u l t u r e b e f o r e t h e i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n , as t h e e x p e r i e n c e o f t h e o l d e r c a r n i v a l c e l e b r a t i o n s a t t e s t e d . P a r a d o x i c a l l y , though t h e r e was no a r t i c u l a t e defence o f t h e o l d customs, such as t h e p r e - L e n t e n c a r n i v a l , i n t h e m i d d l e o f t h e c e n t u r y , when i t might have been most needed, the n e x t g e n e r a t i o n would l o o k back l o n g i n g l y - 86 - a t t h e s e customs o f " l e bon v i e u x temps" as a means o f b r i n g i n g t h e community back t o g e t h e r . The new c a r n i v a l s , w i t h o u t any m e a n i n g f u l c o n n e c t i o n w i t h t h e m a j o r i t y c u l t u r e i n Quebec, i l l u s t r a t e d by t h e a d o p t i o n o f h a b i t a n t b e l t s and tuques by w e a l t h y E n g l i s h C a n a d i a n s , c o u l d not be e x p e c t e d t o f u l f i l l t h a t r o l e . T h e i r l i m i t e d commercial aims and t h e i r s e l e c t i v e n a t u r e and h i g h c o s t o f p a r t i c i p a t i o n were more i m p o r t a n t i n d i s p l a y i n g and c e l e b r a t i n g t h e o f f i c i a l v a l u e s o f i t s b i - n a t i o n a l e l i t e , and i n e x c l u d i n g most o f t h e non-commercial elements o f the c i t y . I n t h a t sense t h e y are more i m p o r t a n t t o t h e s o c i a l h i s t o r i a n because t h e y demonstrated t h e power s t r u c t u r e o f t h e community, but t h e y have a l s o endured, w i t h i n t e r r u p t i o n , t o become community t r a d i t i o n s t h e m s e l v e s , w i t h " p o p u l a r " a p p e a l . The atmosphere o f t h e s e c a r n i v a l s was a l s o a r e f l e c t i o n o f t h e V i c t o r i a n attempt t o " b e g u i l e the weary hours o f s o b r i e t y " w i t h decorous l e i s u r e , as P r o f e s s o r B a i l e y so h a p p i l y put i t i n h i s s t u d y o f V i c t o r i a n England."*" The d o c i l e crowds a t the c a r n i v a l s were t h e same p e o p l e who were a c c e p t i n g , w i l l i n g l y o r n o t , t h e d i r e c t i o n o f t h e Church and o f the b u s i n e s s community i n many a s p e c t s o f t h e i r l i v e s . The r e a s o n s f o r t h a t s u b m i s s i o n were not o n l y t o be found i n t h e w o r k p l a c e , o r i n t h e c u l t u r e , but i n the i n t e r r e l a t i o n s h i p between t h e two. I t would be u n f a i r t o l e a v e the m a t t e r h e r e . C a r n i v a l was a f l e e t i n g a f f a i r t h a t was v a n q u i s h e d e v e r y y e a r by L e n t , - 87 - j u s t as i t was overcome by c a p i t a l i s m : Deux c h a n t e u r s , p e r s o n i f i a n t l ' u n , l e CarSme ... e t 1 ' a u t r e , l e M a r d i - g r a s , v a n t e n t t o u r a t o u r l e s b i e n f a i t s du regime q u ' i l s r e p r e s e n e n t , p u i s au d e r n i e r c o u p l e t , l e M a r d i - g r a s s ' e c r o u l e , v a i n c u , t a n d i s que l e Careme t r i o m p h e . 2 But L e n t does not l a s t f o r e v e r e i t h e r . \ - 88 - NOTES CHAPTER I """CM. F a i r c h i l d , J r . , A S h o r t Account o f Ye Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l Holden i n 1894, Quebec 1894, pp. 71-72. 2 John T. S a y w e l l , ed., The Canadian J o u r n a l o f Lady Aberdeen, 1893-1898, Toronto 1960, The Champlain S o c i e t y , p. 69, "...The r e m a r k a b l e good o r d e r amongst b o t h snow-shoers and amongst the enormous crowd was v e r y n o t i c e a b l e a g a i n t o n i g h t , i n s p i t e o f t h e c o l d and t h e l o n g w a i t i n g o u t o f d o o r s . " 3 F a i r c h i l d , op. c i t . , pp. 77-78. 4 I b i d . , p. 117. 5 For a f u l l e r e x p l a n a t i o n and d e s c r i p t i o n o f t h i s " s e m i o t i q u e " approach, see Marianne M e s n i l ' s T r o i s e s s a i s s u r l a fe^te; du f o l k l o r e a* l'e"thno-se*miotique, B r u x e l l e s 1974, E d i t i o n s de l'Universit§ de B r u x e l l e s , e s p e c i a l l y t h e f i r s t e s s a y , "Le l i e u e t l e temps de l a f e t e c a r n a v a l e s q u e " . ^For a f u l l e r d e s c r i p t i o n o f t h i s , see P. Bezucha's "The M o r a l i z a t i o n o f S o c i e t y " i n Jacques Beauroy e t a l . , The Wolf and t h e Lamb; P o p u l a r C u l t u r e i n France from t h e O l d Regime t o t h e T w e n t i e t h C e n t u r y , S t a n f o r d F r e n c h and I t a l i a n S t u d i e s , S a r a t o g a 1977, pp. 175-187. T h i s s t u d y o f t h e N i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y Societe" P r o t r e c t r i c e des animaux f o c u s e s on m i d d l e c l a s s d i s t a s t e o f p o p u l a r b l o o d s p o r t s , and i t s r e l a t i v e l y l a t e i n t r o d u c t i o n i n t o F r e n c h s e n s i b i l i t i e s . 7 See N a t a l i e Zemon D a v i s on t h e temporary l o o s e n i n g o f s o c i a l bonds i n o r d e r t o s t r e n g t h e n them f u r t h e r i n "The Reasons o f M i s r u l e : Youth Groups and C a r n i v a l s i n S i x t e e n t h C e n t u r y F r a n c e " i n P a s t and P r e s e n t , 1971, pp. 41-75. M i c h a e l R. Marrus " o b s e r v a t i o n s a l s o a p p l y h e r e : " i n a c l a s s i c s t u d y o f f e s t i v i t y , Roger C a i l l o i s once s t r e s s e d t h e c r u c i a l f u n c t i o n o f r e l e a s e from t h e r u l e s o f d a i l y l i f e , the o r g i a s t i c r e v e r s a l o f everyday c o n t r o l s . My own r e a d i n g o f the s i g n i f i c a n c e o f fe"tes i n F r e n c h r u r a l s o c i e t y i s q u i t e the o p p o s i t e : whale i t i s t r u e t h a t t h e r e was p l e n t y o f d r i n k i n g - 89 - and b l o w i n g o f f steam d u r i n g t h e f e t e s , t h e r e was a l s o an even g r e a t e r degree o f r e g u l a t e d b e h a v i o u r t h a n i n t h e c o u r s e o f l a v i e q u o t i d i e n n e . V i l l a g e r s marched about, danced, p r a y e d , drank and f e a s t e d a c c o r d i n g t o a regimen whose r i g o r i m p r e s s e d many o b s e r v e r s " . M i c h a e l R. M a r r u s , " F o l k l o r e as an E t h n o g r a p h i c Source: A'Mise au P o i n t " i n The Wolf and t h e Lamb, pp. 109-125. 8 *\ Raymond, M o n t p e t i t , Le Temps des F e t e s au Quebec, M o n t r e a l 1978, E d i t i o n s de 1'Homme, p. 12. 9 I b i d . , "Un a n a l y s e de l a symbolique e t du r i t u e l d'une f e t e permet de d e c e l e r l a marque du p o u v o i r q u i . 1 ' o r g a n i s e ; l a f e t e c o n t i e n t t o u j o u r s une p r o j e c t i o n i d e a l i s e e de 1'image qu'un groupe s o c i a l cherche a donner de lui-meme, de l a c o n c e p t i o n q u ' i l se f a i t du p o u v o i r q i 1 i l e x e r c e e t de l ' o r d r e q u ' i l m a i n t i e n t . C'est a i n s i qu'une messe de m i n u i t de N o e l e t un r e v e i l l o n en N o u v e l l e - F r a n c e ne s o n t pas e t r a n g e r s 5. l a s t r u c t u r e p o l i t i q u e e t r e l i g i e u s e du p a y s , n i a son mode de p r o d u c t i o n a g r i c o l e . ...Quand e l l e se p r o d u i t , p a s s e , p r e s e n t , e t a v e n i r sont en e l l e a r t i c u l e s qu'a 1 ' o r d i n a i r e , ce q u i f a i t de l a f e t e un moment q u i se s a i t e t se v e u t e x c e p t i o n n e l . . . " " ^ H e r b e r t Gutman, "Work, C u l t u r e and S o c i e t y i n I n d u s t r i a l i z i n g America 1815-1919" i n American H i s t o r i c a l Review ( 7 8 ) , 1973, p. 543. i : L I b i d . , pp. 554-556 . 12 Dean M a c C a n n e l l , The T o u r i s t , A New Theory o f t h e L e i s u r e C l a s s , New York, 1976, an e x c e l l e n t s t u d y o f the e f f e c t s o f " m o d e r n i z a t i o n " on t h e r e s t o f t h e w o r l d t h r o u g h t h e medium o f t h e N o r t h American m i d d l e c l a s s t o u r i s t , b u t w i t h t h e l a c k o f an adequate c o n c e p t u a l i z a t i o n o f "moderniza- t i o n " . 13 A r n o l d van Gennep, Manuel de f o l k l o r e f r a n c a i s c o n t e m p o r a i n : "Les ceremonies p e r i o d i q u e s , c y c l i q u e s e t s a i s o n n i e r e s " , P a r i s 194 7, tome 1:3. 14 M a d e l e i n e D o y o n - F e r l a n d , Coutumes p o p u l a i r e s du Canada F r a n c a i s , A r c h i v e s de f o l k l o r e , Quebec 1972, q u o t i n g Hector B e r t n e l o t , "Le bon v i e u x temps", p. 134-135. 15 H.P. LeMay, Fe*tes e t c o r v e e s , L e v i s , 1898, pp. 24-25, x ^ I b i d . , p. 25. - 90 - 17 I b i d . , p. 29. 18 Montreal S t a r , February 5, 1884, p. 5. 19 For an e x c e l l e n t study of the q u e s t i o n of l e i s u r e i n n i n e t e e n t h century B r i t a i n , see Peter B a i l e y ' s L e i s u r e and C l a s s i n V i c t o r i a n England, London, Toronto, B u f f a l o 1978. B a i l e y c a l l s the f i e l d of l e i s u r e "one of the major f r o n t i e r s of s o c i a l change i n the n i n e t e e n t h century, and l i k e most f r o n t i e r s i t was d i s p u t e d t e r r i t o r y " (p. 5). The crux of the problem f o r both the V i c t o r i a n s and f o r t h e i r Canadian counter- p a r t s seems, i n the p e r i o d of B a i l e y ' s study 1830-1895 to c e n t r e around "...the i d e a of r e c r e a t i o n as a s a f e t y v a l v e whose c a t h a r t i c e f f e c t j u s t i f i e d the suspension of normal s o c i a l d i s c i p l i n e s was unacceptable to men p r i m a r i l y concerned to maintain s o c i a l c o n t r o l and c o n f o r m i t y . P l a y was not to be allowed any form of s p e c i a l l i c e n c e ; r a t h e r i t had to be f i r m l y and u n e q u i v o c a l l y i n t e g r a t e d w i t h the r e s t of l i f e and s e c u r e l y anchored i n orthodox m o r a l i t y . " (p. 94) T h i s p e r i o d then became "the h o u s e - t r a i n i n g of the E n g l i s h p r o l e t a r i a t " , (p. 174). 20 W i l l i a m Parker Greenough, Canadian F o l k - L i f e and F o l k - L o r e , New York 1897. 21 See Joseph L e v i t t , Henri Bourassa and the Golden C a l f , The S o c i a l Program of the N a t i o n a l i s t s of Quebec (1900- 1914), Ottawa 1972. 22 Kenneth MacLeish, "Quebec: French C i t y i n an Anglo- Saxon World" N a t i o n a l Geographic, v o l . 139, (3), march 1971, pp. 416-422. 23 An i n t e r e s t i n g example of t h i s t r a v e l l i t e r a t u r e by the p u b l i s h e r of the Quebec D a i l y Telegraph and a l e a d i n g proponent of the Quebec C a r n i v a l i n 1894 was Frank C a r r e l ' s Guide to the C i t y of Quebec, Quebec 1896, D a i l y Telegraph which i n c l u d e d e v e r y t h i n g t h a t the v i s i t o r to the c i t y might want to know: h i s t o r y , h o t e l s , monuments, r e s o r t s , e t c . , and which was bound together w i t h an A l l - r o u n d Route and Panoramic Guide of the S a i n t Lawrence (Montreal 1899, I n t e r n a t i o n a l Railway P u b l i s h i n g Co.) which covered beaches, towns, h o t e l s , r e s o r t s and t r a i n schedules from H a l i f a x to B u f f a l o and from the Adirondacks to the Saguenay R i v e r . 24 Montreal S t a r , F r i d a y Feb. .2., 1883. - 91 - "-'MacCannell, op. c i t . , Chapter 3, "The P a r i s Case: O r i g i n s o f A l i e n a t e d L e i s u r e " , pp. 57-76, t h e p o i n t b e i n g t h e d i s t o r t i o n s i n h e r e n t i n t h e mediated e x p e r i e n c e , e s p e c i a l l y i n t h e mediated t o u r i s t e x p e r i e n c e , w h i c h can never p e n e t r a t e t o t h e i n t e r i o r o f a s i t u a t i o n b u t must be c o n t e n t w i t h the "on s t a g e " v i e w , n o t t h e " b a c k s t a g e " , even a t t h e G o b e l i n s or i n t h e sewers. There i s a " w a l l " o f m e d i a t i o n between <. ... the workers here and t h e i r o b s e r v e r s . ''"Quebec M e r c u r y , Feb. 12, 1866, p. 2. 27 C i t y C o u n c i l o f Quebec, P r o c e s - v e r b a u x du c o n s e i l , de F e v r i e r 1865 3 AoGt 1866, M u n i c i p a l A r c h i v e s o f Quebec C i t y , By-law 192 "For t h e Good Order and Peace o f the C i t y o f Quebec", passed December 22, 1865 w i t h b i l i n g u a l t e x t s , p. 273, and p r i n t e d December 11, 1865 i n Le Canadien and i n The D a i l y News. 2 8 Quebec M e r c u r y , Thursday Feb.. 15, 1866., p. 2. 29 Quebec C i t y C o u n c i l , P r o c e s - - v e r b a u x . . . , pp. 273- 323, Reglement 196 "Concernant l e s maisons de p r o s t i t u t i o n e t a u t r e s maisons de d e s o r d r e " (23 f e v r i e r , 1866), Reglement 197 "Concernant l e s M a T t r e s , l e s Commis, l e s a p p r e n t i s , l e s domestiques e t l e s o u v r i e r s " (23 f e v r i e r 1866) and a l s o by t h e same c o u n c i l Reglement 206 "Concernant l e s maisons de p r o s t i t u t i o n , l e s maisons de d e s o r d r e e t a u t r e s reputees.comme t e l l e s " (10 Aout 1866). 30 E.Z. M a s s i c o t t e , " J o u r s g r a s , mardi g r a s , m e r c r e d i des c e n d r e s : Moeurs e t coutumes d ' a u t r e f o i s " , i n B u l l e t i n des r e c h e r c h e s h i s t o r i q u e s , x x v i i , 3, mars 1921, p. 89. 31 R o b e r t - L i o n e l S e g u i n , Les D i v e r t i s s e m e n t s en N o u v e l l e - F r a n c e , Ottawa, 1968, p. 36. I n F e b r u a r y o f 1663 an earthquake shook Quebec C i t y and c o n t i n u e d i n t e r i t t e n t l y u n t i l August, c a u s i n g M§re M a r i e d e l ' I n c a r n a t i o n t o draw i n e v i t a b l e m o r a l l e s s o n s from i t . I n a l e t t e r t o her son on August 20, 166 3, she w r o t e : "So unexpected a c a l a m i t y , when t h e young p e o p l e were p r e p a r i n g t o spend t h e c a r n i v a l season i n e x c e s s e s , was a c l a p o f thunder on everyone's head. I t was r a t h e r a c l a p o f God's mercy upon t h e whole c o u n t r y , as was seen by i t s r e s u l t s . . . " i n Joyce M a r s h a l l , t r a n s . , ed., Word From New F r a n c e - The S e l e c t e d L e t t e r s o f M a r i e de 1 ' I n c a r n a t i o n , Toronto 1967, p. 289. See a l s o I b i d . p. 297 "...The days o f c a r n i v a l were changed i n t o days o f p e n i t e n c e and sadness; - 92 - p u b l i c p r a y e r s , p r o c e s s i o n s , and p i l g r i m a g e s were c o n t i n u a l , f a s t s on b r e a d and water v e r y f r e q u e n t , and g e n e r a l c o n f e s s i o n s more s i n c e r e t h a n t h e y would have been i n t h e e x t r e m i t y o f s i c k n e s s . " """"Ibid., "Momon" o r "mummery", t o use t h e o l d E n g l i s h e q u i v a l e n t i s d e f i n e d i n S e g u i n t o mean: " l e de"fi d'un coup de dez, qu'on f a i t quand on e s t de*guis_ en masque. I I e s t d e f f e n d u de p a r l e r quand on p o r t e un mommon" S e g u i n , p. 36. Thus a "mommerie" i n 1701 was "Mascarade, b o u f o n n e r i e , deguisement de gens masquez pour a l l e r d a n s e r , j o u e r ou se r e j o u i r . " I b i d . - the same use o f the term i s found i n Newfoundland - see below Note 37. 33 I b i d . 34 M a s s i c o t t e , op. c i t . p. 93. 35 LeMay, op. c i t . p. 14. 3 6 M a d e l e i n e Doyon F e r l a n d , op. c i t . , pp. 97-99. 37 I b i d . , p. 99, f o r a modern s t u d y o f a contemporary example o f l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s as i n f l u e n c i n g and even determin- i n g work h a b i t s i n t h e community f o r t h e y e a r a l o n g t h e s e same l i n e s , see G e r a l d M. S i d e r ' s " C h r i s t m a s Mumming and t h e New Year i n O u t p o r t Newfoundland" i n P a s t and P r e s e n t , 71, May 1976, pp. 102-125. 38 F e r l a n d , op. c i t . , p. 98. Van Gennep, op. c i t . , p. 869 and a l s o : "On remarquera d ' a i l l e u r s que l e s f S t e s du s o l s t i c e d'ete ne s o n t pas i d e n t i q u e s a c e l l e s du s o l s t i c e d ' h i v e r . Comme l e s f e t e s de Carnaval-Careme e t du p r i n t e m p s , l e s p r e m i e r e s sont c o l l e c t i v e s , i n t e r e s s e n t t o u s l e s h a b i t a n t s de l a l o c a l i t e , ou du moins l e u r s r e p r e s e n t a n t s , l a Jeunesse des deux *• sexes e t , p a r a f f a i b l i s s e m e n t , l a s o c i e t e r e s t r e i n t e des e n f a n t s ; en p r i n c i p e t o u s p a r t i c i p e n t 5 l a j o i e , e t aux c§r§monies p o p u l a i r e s . Au l i e u que l e s f ^ t e s e t ceremonies de l a N o e l , du J o u r de l'An e t des R o i s sont e s s e n t i e l l e m e n t f a m i l i a l e s e t domestiques, a i n s i q u e l e u r s v i g i l e s ou v e i l l e s . . . Dans l e s f e t e s p a t r o n a l e s , e l l e s a u s s i p e r i o d i q u e s , l e s deux ele"mets se combinent, c a r e l l e s s o n t , en p r i n c i p e , a u t a n t qu'un bapteme e t un mariage ou des f u n e r a i l l e s , une o c c a s i o n de r e n f o r c e r a nouveau l e s l i e n s f a m i l i a u x ou l o c a u x , e t , d ' a u t r e p a r t , l e s a i n t p a t r o n e s t une p r o p r i e t e c o l l e c t i v e . " (Manuel...838-39). - 93 - " I b i d . , p. 869. 41 Examples i n Quebec are a l s o a v a i l a b l e as f o r example i n St.-Romauld de L e v i s and Hawksbury where: "Deux c h a n t e u r s p e r s o n n i f i a n t l ' u n , l e Careme e t 1 ' a u t r e , l e M a r d i - g r a s , v a n t e n t t o u r a" t o u r l e s b i e n f a i t s du regime q u ' i l s r e p r e s e n t - e n t , p u i s au d e r n i e r c o u p l e t , l e M a r d i - g r a s s ' e c r o u l e , v a i n c u , t a n d i s que l e Careme t r i o m p h e " . M a s s i c o t t e , op. c i t . , p. 93. 42 E r r o l H i l l , The T r i n i d a d C a r n i v a l , Mandate f o r a N a t i o n a l T h e a t r e , A u s t i n , Texas and London, 1972, U n i v e r s i t y o f Texas P r e s s , p. 4, and a l s o R. Muchembled, C u l t u r e P o p u l a i r e e t C u l t u r e des E l i t e s dans l a France Moderne, P a r i s , 1978, Flammarion, who saw t h i s p o p u l a r c u l t u r e out o f w h i c h t h e c a r n i v a l s and o t h e r c e l e b r a t i o n s grew as not o n l y " v i v a n t e , a c t i v e e t dynamique" but a l s o and even more c r u c i a l l y as "une systeme de s u r v i e " . p. 11. 43 I b i d . , see a l s o Claude G a i g n e b e t ' s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f P e t e r B r e u g h e l ' s p a i n t i n g (1559) 'Combat de C a r n a v a l e t de Careme" i n h i s a r t i c l e "Le Combat de C a r n a v a l e t de Careme de P. B r e u g h e l " i n Annales E.S.C., m a r s - a v r i l 1972, pp. 313- 34 5, where he c l a i m s t h e whole c y c l e o f C a r n i v a l , Lent and E a s t e r i s d e p i c t e d i n each a r e a o f what i s o s t e n s i b l y a p a i n t i n g o f what l o o k s l i k e a scene o f c o n f u s i o n i n a s i x t e e n t h - c e n t u r y F l e m i s h v i l l a g e . H i s d e s c r i p t i o n o f what i s happening b e a r s many resemblances t o M a d e l e i n e Doyon- F e r l a n d ' s d e s c r i p t i o n o f c a r n a v a l o r mardi gras i n t h e Beauce. For example, t h e c e l e b r a t i o n o f t h e "Jour de l ' O u r s " i n v o l v e s man d i s g u i s e d as a b e a r , o r perhaps as a savage, b r e a k i n g i n t o the community dance, r i t u a l l y d e f i l e s a maiden and i s r i t u a l l y k i l l e d , a custom t h a t o c c u r s i n b o t h a r e a s . Another i s t h e "Danse du B a r b i e r " where a b a r b e r l a t h e r s up a customer and s t a b s him. The customer q u i c k l y r e v i v e s and t h e dance goes on. As w e l l , t h e r e a r e s i m i l a r i t i e s i n t h e customs o f t r a n s v e s t i s m , masks and d i s g u i s e s , and t h e importance o f e f f i g i e s and t h e i r r i t u a l punishment. Today's "Bonhomme C a r n a v a l " o f t h e Quebec C i t y c a r n i v a l i s o n l y t h e l a t e s t i n a l o n g s e r t i e s o f the p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n o f the f e s t i v a l . L a t e r on i n F r a n c e , c a r n i v a l would t a k e on t h e p o l i t i c a l o v e r t o n e s t h a t Quebec, e x c e p t f o r t h e s t r a w man (homme de p a i l l e ) as a f i g u r e o f f u n a t e l e c t i o n t i m e , would never see. I n the n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y as p o l i t i c a l e x p r e s s i o n s o f t h e l e g a c y o f t h e R e v o l u t i o n became f o r one p a r t y or a n o t h e r d i f f i c u l t a t one time o r a n o t h e r , r e p u b l i c a n s and m o n a r c h i s t s a l i k e would seek t o e x p r e s s t h e i r p o l i t i c a l o p i n i o n s t h r o u g h t h e masked b e h a v i o u r and symbolism o f c a r n i v a l i n t h e t r a d i t i o n o f anonymous p r o t e s t . F o r a f u l l e r d i s c u s s i o n o f t h i s see R o b e r t Bezucha's "Mask o f R e v o l u t i o n : P o p u l a r C u l t u r e i n t h e Second R e p u b l i c " i n Roger P r i c e , ed., R e v o l u t i o n and R e a c t i o n : 1848 - 94 - and t h e Second F r e n c h R e p u b l i c , pp. 236-253. For a f u l l e r h i s t o r i c a l t r e a t m e n t o f t h e s u b j e c t f o r the s i x t e e n t h t o the e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r i e s , see Y v e s - M a r i e B e r c e , F§te e t R e V o l t e , des m e n t a l i t e s p o p u l a i r e s du XVIe au X V I I I e s i e ' c l e , P a r i s , Hachette 1976. 44 Benjamin G a s t i n e a u , Le C a r n a v a l a n c i e n e t moderne, P a r i s 1862. The book appeared as p a r t o f a s e r i e s e n t i t l e d " H i s t o i r e de l a f o l i e humaine", p. 24. See a l s o P e r r y Young's The M y s t i c k Crewe, New O r l e a n s 1931, pp. 5-6 f o r a b r i e f h i s t o r y o f C a r n i v a l i n France and on t h e o r i g i n s o f t h e .. customs i n Greece, t h e i r debauchery and d e c l i n e , and the d e c l i n e o f i t s c e l e b r a t i o n a f t e r 1870 i n F r a n c e . 45 G a s t i n e a u , op. c i t . , pp. 104-105. 46 H i l l , op. c i t . , pp. 10-12 47 I b i d . , p. 16 48 I b i d . F r a s e r s a i d "In former days and down t o the p e r i o d o f t h e e m a n c i p a t i o n o f t h e s l a v e s , t h e c a r n i v a l was k e p t up w i t h much s p i r i t by t h e upper c l a s s e s . . . t h e l e a d i n g Members o f S o c i e t y used on t h e days o f C a r n i v a l t o d r i v e t h r o u g h t h e s t r e e t s o f P o r t o f S p a i n masked, and i n t h e e v e n i n g s go from house t o house w h i c h were a l l thrown open f o r t h e o c c a s i o n . " p. 10. 49 I b i d . , p. 17 . 50 I b i d . 51 I b i d . 52 I b i d . , p. 20 Young, M y s t i c k Crewe..., pp. 41-42. I n 1868, d u r i n g t h e p o l i t i c a l t e n s i o n s i n t h e a f t e r m a t h o f t h e U.S. C i v i l War, g e n e r a l masking i n t h e s t r e e t s o f t h e c i t y was ended f o r e v e r and t h e unmasked crowds now watched t h e masked parades o f the Crews o f Comus, by v i r t u e o f t h e P o l i c e C h i e f ' s S p e c i a l Orders No. 60, F e b r u a r y 24, 1868. Young, p. 87. 54 I b i d . , p. 42. 5 5 I b i d . , p. 49. - 95 - I b i d . , p. 56, and a l s o Leonard V. Ruber's M a r d i Gras: A P i c t o r i a l H i s t o r y o f C a r n i v a l i n New O r l e a n s , G r e t n a L o u i s i a n a 1977, P e l i c a n Pub. Co., p. 8. 57 Young, op. c i t . pp. 56-57. " ^ I b i d . , p. 57 . 59 H i l l , op. c i t . , p. 10. 6 0 M o n t r e a l S t a r , Thursday Feb. 6, 1884, p. 3. - 96 - NOTES CHAPTER I I XG.M. F a i r c h i l d , J r . A S h o r t Account o f ye Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l Holden i n 1894, Quebec 1894, p. CIX. 2 S t a n l e y T n g g s and J . R u s s e l l Harper. A C o l l e c t i o n o f Notman Photographs - 1851-1915. P o r t r a i t o f a P e r i o d , i t c o n t a i n s a number o f p i c t u r e s o f v e r y g a u n t - l o o k i n g p e o p l e o f t h e Lower Town,- M c G i l l U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , M o n t r e a l , 1967. 3 F a i r c h i l d , op. c i t . , p. CIV q u o t i n g t h e New York Sun, d a t e l i n e Quebec C i t y , F e b r u a r y 1, 1894. 4 G.M. F a i r c h i l d , J r . G l e a n i n g s from Quebec, Quebec 1908, p. 130, see a l s o George G a l e , Quebec T w i x t O l d and New, Quebec 1915, o r P i e r r e S a v a r d 1 s r e i s s u e o f S t a n i s l a s L o r t i e 1 s C o m p o s i t e u r - t y p o g r a p h i q u e de Quebec, P a r i s 1903. 5 P a u l Laroque.- La C o n d i t i o n socio-economique des t r a v a i l l e u r s de l a V i l l e de Quebec 1896-1914, MA T h e s i s , L a v a l U n i v e r s i t y , Quebec 1970, p~! 163, Q u o t i n g A r t h u r St .- P i e r r e , La Q u e s t i o n o u v r i e r e au Canada, M o n t r e a l , 1920. I b i d . , p. 24 i n Laroque, emphasis mine. 7 Jacques M a t h i e u , La c o n d i t i o n o u v r i g r e dans l ' i n d u s t r i e de c u i r a* Quebec de 1900 a~ 1930 d'apre~s l e s p r o c g s - v e r b a u x d'un s y n d i c a t , u n p u b l i s h e d MA T h e s i s , L a v a l U n i v e r s i t y , 1970, p. 19. g L o r t i e , op. c i t . , pp. 111-112. 9 Laroque, op. c i t . , p. 131. X ^ L ' E l e c t e u r , 23 J a n v i e r , 1893. I b i d . - 97 - 12 Quebec D a i l y T e l e g r a p h , 7 November, 1893, p. 2 and L 1 Evenement, 18 J a n v i e r , 1894. 13 F a i r c h i l d , op. c i t . , p. (on f i n a n c i a l c r i s i s . . . ) 14 Laroque, op. c i t . , p. 136. 15 L'Evenement, 18 J a n v i e r , 1894, p. 2. 16 M o n t r e a l S t a r , 8 J a n u a r y , 1884. For an i n d i c a t i o n o f t h e number o f men r e q u i r e d f o r such work. F i f t y t o s i x t y l a b o u r e r s and masons began work on M o n t r e a l ' s i c e p a l a c e t h a t year j u s t a f t e r C h r i s t m a s and worked r i g h t up t o t h e o p e n i n g o f t h e c a r n i v a l i n J a n u a r y . I n M o n t r e a l f o r the f o l l o w i n g y e a r s c a r n i v a l , t h e S t a r o f 5 J a n u a r y r e p o r t e d t h a t t h e a p p l i c a t i o n s f o r such work f a r exceeded the number o f p e o p l e r e q u i r e d and t h a t "Thousands o f M o n t r e a l Workmen (were) i n A c t u a l Want". 17 M o n t r e a l S t a r , 24 J a n u a r y , 1885, p. 6. The costume was O t h e l l o . 18 Laroque f o r wages, op. c i t . , pp. 159-75 and Gregory K e a l y , Canada I n v e s i t g a t e s I n d u s t r i a l i s m , T o r o n t o , U. o f T. P r e s s , 1973, pp. 308-313 f o r f u r t h e r examples o f wage r a t e s . 19 J e a n - P i e r r e W a l l o t , " R e l i g i o n and F r e n c h Canadian Mores i n t h e E a r l y N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y " , Canadian H i s t o r i c a l Review, L I I / 1 (March 1971) p. 82. 20 S t a n i s l a s L o r t i e , C o m p o s i t e u r - t y p o g r a p h i q u e de Q u e b e c dans l e systeme des engagements v o l o n t a i r e s permanents d'apres l e s renseignements r e c e u i l l i s s u r l e s l i e u x en 1903- i n Paysans e t O v r i e r s de Qu§bec d ' a u t r e f o i s , (Qu§bec 1968) p. 67. Lady Aberdeen n o t e d as w e l l t h a t " p u b l i c o p i n i o n i n f a v o u r o f d a n c i n g i s g e t t i n g t o o s t r o n g f o r t h e c l e r g y and t h e Church i s b e g i n n i n g t o f o r g e t t o e n f o r c e i t s p e n a l t i e s . " Canadian D i a r y , p. 17. 21 Mandements, l e t t r e s p a s t o r a l e s , c i r c u l a i r e s e t a u t r e s documents p u b l i e s dans l e Dioce'se de M o n t r e a l d e p u i s son e r e c t i o n , v o l . I V , ( M o n t r e a l 1893), pp. 130-133, and pp. 526-531. 22 I b i d . , pp. 740-746. - 98 - 23 I n 1885, Mgr. Fabre i s s u e d a mandement condemning the p u b l i c s l i d e s and snowshoeing f a c i l i t i e s where women were a l l o w e d t o wear the costume o f t h e snowshoe c l u b s , w h i c h he r e g a r d e d as a form o f male a t t i r e . C i t i n g Deuteronomy, the p r e l a t e made i t c l e a r t h a t such a c t i v i t i e s were r e l i c s o f a savage p a s t , and as A r c h b i s h o p o f M o n t r e a l , he would not t o l e r a t e such a c t i v i t y i n h i s d i o c e s e . In P a u l C a r p e n t i e r , La Raquette a n e i g e , T r o i s R i v i e r e s 1976, B o r e a l e x p r e s s , p. 102-103. 24 Lorenze Cadieux S . J . , ed. L e t t r e s des N o u v e l l e s M i s s i o n s du Canada 1843-1852, (Montrea1. 1973), 18 e L e t t r e , p. 308. 25 Joe W i l d g u s t , "Cashing i n on C a r n i v a l " , Weekend Magazine, 14 Feb. 1978 p. 16. 2 6 Larocque, op. c i t . p. 186. 27 ' i b i d . 2 8 I b i d . , p. 188. 29 * I b i d . 30 \For t h e h o s t i l e a t t i t u d e o f l a b o u r u n i o n s l i k e t h e K n i g h t s o f Labour t o a l c o h o l and t h o s e who s e r v e d i t see P i e r r e de L o t t i n e v i l l e , "Joe Beef o f M o n t r e a l " i n Labour/Le T r a v a i l l e u r 8-9 (1981-82) pp. 33-34. 31 See t h e Quebec Morning C h r o n i c l e , 2 December 186 5, " D i s o r d e r l y Houses",- t h e number o f houses was q u i c k l y found out t o be an e x a g g e r a t i o n but not b e f o r e t h e news had made t h e M o n t r e a l papers,- a l s o J o u r n a l de Quebec 25 novembre 186 5, " C o u n s e i l de V i l l e " and I b i d . , 9 f e v r i e r 1866. The by-laws i n q u e s t i o n a r e from t h e C o n s e i l de V i l l e de Quebec, P r o c e s - v e r b a u x . . . , pp. 273-323, Reglement 196 "Concernant l e s maisons de p r o s t i t u t i o n e t a u t r e s maisons de d e s o r d r e " (23 f e v r i e r 1866), and Reglement 206 "Concernant l e s maisons de p r o s t i t u t i o n , l e s maisons de d e s o r d r e e t a u t r e s r e p u t e e s comme t e l l e s " (10 aou*t 1866) w h i c h amended t h e e a r l i e r by-law. 3 2 L ' U n i o n m e d i c a l e du Canada, XIV (1885), p. -96. - 99 - 33 L o r t i e , op. c i t . p. 64. He found t h a t out o f a t o t a l p o p u l a t i o n o f 68,834 i n 1901, t h e r e were 19,756 men and 24,348 women c l a s s i f i e d as u n m a r r i e d . T h i s made a t o t a l o f 4 4,104 s i n g l e p e r s o n s , o r about two t h i r d s o f t h e p o p u l a - t i o n . 34 See Roger L e m e l i n , La F a m i l l e P l o u f f e and G a b r i e l l e Roy, Bonheur d'Occasion two o f t h e most p o w e r f u l Quebec n o v e l s t o - d e p i c t the p e r i o d o f t h e 1930's, t h e former i n t h e Lower' Town o f Quebec and t h e l a t t e r i n the poor, w o r k i n g c l a s s s e c t i o n o f M o n t r e a l , S t . - H e n r i . 35 L o r t i e , pp. c i t . , p. 100. 3 6 Laroque, op. c i t . , p. 171. 37 See A l a n M e t c a l f e , "The E v o l u t i o n o f O r g a n i z e d P h y s i c a l R e c r e a t i o n i n M o n t r e a l , 1840-1895" i n S o c i a l H i s t o r y XI (21) May 1978 pp. 38 Gene M. Home, " S l i d e r s and B a c k s l i d e r s - T o r o n t o ' s Sunday Tobogganing C o n t r o v e r s y o f 1912" i n Urban H i s t o r y Review X (2), October 1981, pp. 25-34. 39 «. "Pour demander pardon a D i e u des o f f e n s e s q u i se commettent en ce temps de p l a i s i r s e t de t e s t e s " , L ' E l e c t e u r , 6 f e v r i e r , 1894. 40 See Jacques R o u i l l a r d , Les T r a v a i l l e u r s de Coton au Quebec 1900-1915,Presses de l ' U n i v e r s i t e du Quebec, M o n t r e a l 1974. 41 Jean Hamelin, Yves R o b i e . H i s t o i r e economigue de Quebec, p. 17. 42 I b i d . , pp. 264-265. 43 J o b i n , H i s t o i r e de Quebec, p. 147; Hamelin and Roby, op. c i t . pp. 275-76. 44 N a r c i s s e Rosa. La c o n s t r u c t i o n des n a v i r e s a Quebec e t ses environs-: Greves e t n a u f r a g e s , Que'bec 1897, Leger B r o u s s e a u , pp. 26-27. 45 J o b i n , op. c i t . , p. 14 9. - 100 - 46 For a r a t h e r n a i v e l y u n c r i t i c a l d e s c r i p t i o n o f t h i s p r o c e s s , see J o b i n , op. c i t . , pp. 155-157. 47 I b i d . , by 1939 w e l l over h a l f the shoe m a n u f a c t u r e r s i n Canada were c o n c e n t r a t e d i n Quebec ( t w i c e as many as i n O n t a r i o , t h e n e x t l a r g e s t c o n c e n t r a t i o n ) and were a m a i n s t a y o f F r e n c h Canadian e n t e r p r i s e / m o s t i n Quebec were F r e n c h Canadian owned, 114 out o f 136. 4 8 I n d i c a t e u r de Quebec e t L e V i s , Quebec, Demers e t F r e r e 1893, pp. 105 and 121. 49 Laroque, op. c i t . , p. 10. There were 512 workers i n t h e t a n n e r i e s and 3858 i n t h e shoe f a c t o r i e s . 50 TV, -A I b i d . ~ ^ I b i d . , p. 20 and see a l s o t h e I n d i c a t e u r , p.106 and pp. 115-121. 52 The I r i s h , f o r example had dropped i n numbers from 10,000 i n 1861 t o 4381 i n 1901 and t h e i r d e c l i n e a l s o l e a d t o t h e d e c l i n e o f t h e Quebec S h i p L a b o u r e r s ' B e n e v o l e n t S o c i e t y . For t h a t see Hamelin, pp. 312-313 and a l s o J . I . Cooper, "The Quebec S h i p L a b o u r e r s ' B e n e v o l e n t S o c i e t y " i n CHR 30 (4) December 1949, p. 342. 53 I n d i c a t e u r , p. 97, and . pp . 105-117^,See-Table. 5. Appendix. 54 I n d i c a t e u r , p. 25. 55 See e s p e c i a l l y i n t h i s r e g a r d John Keyes "La d i v e r s i f i c a t i o n de l ' a c t i v i t e economique de Timothy H i b b a r d Dunn, commercant de b o i s a* Quebec 1850-1898" i n RHAF 35 (3) Decembre 1981, pp. 323-336, and f o r t h e c u l t u r a l i n t e r e s t s o f some members o f t h e E n g l i s h community. See G i n e t t e B e r n a t c h e z , "La S o c i e t e l i t t e r a i r e e t h i s t o r i q u e de Quebec 1824-1890, RHAF 35 (2) Septembre 1981, pp. 179-192. ^ I n d i c a t e u r , p. 78, The p r e s i d e n t was a F r e n c h Canadian, t h e v i c e p r e s i d e n t was E n g l i s h s p e a k i n g , e t c . 57 Jacques M a t h i e u , "La c o n d i t i o n o u v r i e r e dans l ' i n d u s t r i e de c u i r a Quebec de 1900 a 1930, d'apres l e s p r o c e s - v e r b a u x d'un s y n d i c a t " , u n p u b l i s h e d M.A. T h e s i s , L a v a l U n i v e r s i t y , 1970, pp. 33-38. Emphasis mine. - 101 - 58 — Paul-Andre L i n t e a u . "Quelques r e f l e x i o n s autour de l a b o u r g e o i s i e queb^coise 1850-1914" i n RHAF 30 (1) J u i n 1976, pp. 55-66, t h i s c i t a t i o n , p. 58. 59 y I b i d . ^ I b i d . , p . 60 . ^ x I b i d . , p. 62. 6 2 c f . O u e l l e t ' s Chambre de Commerce de Quebec which has some u s e f u l i n f o r m a t i o n and John Keyes, op. c i t . on members of the Dunn f a m i l y . 6 3 L i n t e a u , p. 62, these r a i l w a y s were The Quebec North Shore R a i l r o a d , " l e chemin de f e r L e v i s a Kennebec (plus t a r d Quebec C e n t r a l ) . . . e n f i n l e chemin de f e r Quebec e t Lac-St.-. Jean" "Dans ce d e r n i e r cas, Normand Seguin a b i e n montre comment l e chemin de f e r a ete un instrument majeur de p e n e t r a t i o n du c a p i t a l de Quebec au Lac-St.-Jean. Les marchands de b o i s , l e s commercants en gros, l e s s o c i e t e s de pre*t hypothecaire r e p r e s e n t autant de f a c e t t e s des a c t i v i t e s de l a moyenne b o u r g e o i s i e de l a c a p i t a l e . C e l l e - c i se dote d 1 instruments q u i l u i sont propres comme l a Banque N a t i o n a l e ou l a Banque de Quebec. Les Beaudet, Shehyn, C h i n i c , Thibaudeau, i l l u s t r e n t parmi d'autres, l a d i v e r s i t e des a c t i v i t y ' s de ce groupe . " 64 c f . Marc Belanger " l e s Chambres de Commerce - groupes de p r e s s i o n ou c o o p e r a t i v e s de developpement" Recherches sociographiques 9 (1968) 1 and 2, pp. 85-103, e s p e c i a l l y p. 86. 6 5 L ' E l e c t e u r , 8 f e V r i e r , 1893, p. 4. ^ F o r h i s testimony, see Kealy, Canada I n v e s t i g a t e s I n d u s t r i a l i s m , pp. 286-288, and on the s t r i k e , see Jean Hamelin, Paul Laroque, Jacques R o u i l l a r d , Repertoire des Greves dans l a Province de Quebec au XIX S i e c l e , Montreal, 1970, pp. 95-96. 6 7 Kealy.Canada I n v e s t i g a t e s I n d u s t r i a l i s m , pp. 288- 289 and f o r a graphic d e s c r i p t i o n of some of the working c o n d i t i o n s , see Cooper, op. c i t . on the Quebec Ship Labourers' B e n e f i t S o c i e t y , pp. 337-338. - 102 - 68 Cooper, op. c i t . , p. 340. 6 9 K e a l y , op. c i t . , p. 290-91. 70 <- Hamelin e t a l . , R e p e r t o i r e des Greves, pp. 97-98. 7 1 I b i d . , pp. 109-110. - 103 - NOTES CHAPTER I I I "'"Quebec D a i l y T e l e g r a p h , 19 O c t o b e r , 1893. 2 I b i d . 3 I b i d . I n the end t h e c a s t l e was p l a c e d e l s e w h e r e i n t h e Upper Town. 4 I b i d . 5 I b i d . , 21 O c t o b e r , 1893. 6 I b i d . 7 I b i d . 8 Quebec D a i l y T e l e g r a p h , 23 O c t o b e r , 1893. 9 I b i d . 1 0 I b i d . , 31 O c t o b e r , 1893. I b i d . 12 I b i d . , 2 November, 1893. 13 M o n t r e a l S t a r , 2 F e b r u a r y , 1883. 14 M o n t r e a l S t a r , S a t u r d a y , 27 J a n u a r y , 1883 - J o l y , who headed 1894 Quebec C a r n i v a l , was quoted as b e i n g concerned w i t h t h e " d i f f i c u l t y o f d o i n g a n y t h i n g c i v i c i n Quebec as compared t o M o n t r e a l " . 15 — »» ^ C h a r l e s B a i l l a r g e , " L ' I n g e n i e u r de l a C i t e au C o n s e i l de V i l l e " , memo 5753 Quebec, I e r f e v r i e r 1883- A r c h i v e s de l a V i l l e de Quebec, H 6 t e l - d e - V i l l e . The o n l y - 104 - p a r t o f h i s a d v i c e i g n o r e d was t h a t he was not p l a c e d i n o v e r a l l c h a r g e . He was j u s t a member o f t h e c o n s t r u c t i o n committee. 16 Quebec D a i l y T e l e g r a p h , 3 November, 1893. 17 See T a b l e I - QAAA.and Table 2, S t . Roch/ A.A. Appendix 18 See T a b l e -III- C a r n i v a l Committees. 19 G.M. F a i r c h i l d J r . A S h o r t Account o f Ye Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l Holden i n 1894, Quebec 1894. H i s papers i n t h e Quebec A r c h i v e s c o n t a i n l e t t e r s from Van Home and one from Van Home's widow. There a r e a l s o a c c o u n t s i n h i s d i a r y about d i n n e r s i n town w i t h t h e L i t e r a r y S o c i e t y , whose members were b o t h F r e n c h and E n g l i s h . 20 F a i r c h i l d , op. c i t . p. 13. 21 M o n t r e a l S t a r , 29 J a n u a r y , 1883. 22 I b i d . , 6 J a n u a r y , 1883, p. 1. 23 I b i d . , 19 J a n u a r y , 1883, c o n t a i n i n g a l e t t e r from t h e p r i v a t e s e c r e t a r y o f t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s P r e s i d e n t d e c l i n i n g , and M o n t r e a l S t a r , 8 J a n u a r y , 1884. 24 F a i r c h i l d , op. c i t . , pp. 77-78. F a i r c h i l d o f t e n p o i n t e d out how i m p r e s s e d " h i g h s o c i e t y matrons from C h i c a g o " and o t h e r s were w i t h Quebec and t h e c a r n i v a l . 25 F a i r c h i l d , op. c i t . , p. 14. ^ I b i d . , p. 12 . 27 I b i d . , pp. 135-40 - f o r a l i s t o f s u b s c r i b e r s t o the C a r n i v a l Fund. o o L'Evenement, 24 J a n v i e r , 1894. 2 9 s e e T a b l e I I I . - 105 - 30 Alan Metcalfe, "The Evolution of Organized Physical Recreation i n Montreal, 1840-1895", i n Social History, XI/21 (May 1978) p. 149, and see also Peter Bailey's Leisure and Class i n V i c t o r i a n England, London 1978, pp: 124-146 "Rational Recreation and the New Athleticism". 31 The Montreal Daily Star, L i t e r a r y Supplement to the Carnival Number of 1885, p. 1, "Origin of the Carnival".-• "It was at the annual banquet of the Montreal Snowshoe Club on Thursday, February 9, 1882 that Mr. R.D. McGibbon suggested the propriety of holding a Carnival of Winter Sports i n Montreal every year, with the object of showing our neighbours to the South the g l o r i e s of our Canadian Winter. The proposition was hailed with enthusiasm by the snowshoers, and j o y f u l l y echoed and reechoed by the tobogganers, the skaters, the c u r l e r s , and the press." 32 See above Chapter 2. 33 Indicateur, p. 78 for Chambre de Commerce, and S.P.C.A. p. 97jsee Table 5, Appendix. 34 Peter Bailey. Leisure and Class in V i c t o r i a n England, London, 1978, p. 77. 35 -« L'Evenement, 30 Janvier, 1894. 3 6 L'Evenement, 29 Janvier, 1894. 37 F a i r c h i l d , op. c i t . , pp. 115-116. Quoting J . Ralph of the New York Sun. Lady Aberdeen, who displayed a c e r t a i n s e n s i t i v i t y to these things, observed that the hotels chief function and orientation was to the American t o u r i s t trade "which i s wise considering that i t i s the American public whom i t i s intended to catch so as to make t h i s enterprise a success." Diary, pp. 63-64. 38 Lady Aberdeen, Diary, p. 64. 39 J y l b i d . 40 — L'Evenement, 2 f e v r i e r , 1894. Even before the b a l l L'Evenement observed the d e l i b e r a t e l y exclusive nature of the price of admission which was "tellement eleve' qu'un p e t i t nombre seulement pourront y a s s i s t e r . " L'Evenement, 2 9 Janvier, 1894. - 106 - I b i d . 4 2 T , , , I b i d . 43 F a i r c h i l d , op. c i t . , pp. 55-60. 44 - I b i d . , p. 56 and L'Evenement, 29 J a n v i e r , 1894. 45 F a i r c h i l d , op. c i t . , pp. 71-72. 46 Quebec D a i l y T e l e g r a p h , C a r n i v a l S p e c i a l Number 1894, Quebec, 1894. 47 One t h i n k s o f C a r r e l , F a i r c h i l d , George Gale and a h o s t o f o t h e r p o p u l a r i z e r s who made t h e c i t y known t o an E n g l i s h - s p e a k i n g a u d i e n c e . 48 M o n t r e a l W i t n e s s , C a r n i v a l Number, 1885, p. 2, "Our I c e C a s t l e s P a s t and P r e s e n t " , and I b i d . , C a r n i v a l Number o f 1887. 49 Marc L a f r a n c e , "Le P r o j e c t D u f f e r i n : La C o n s e r v a t i o n d'un monument h i s t o r i q u e a Quebec au XIXe s i e c l e " i n Le Pare de l ' A r t i l l e r i e e t l e s F o r t i f i c a t i o n s de Quebec (Ottawa 1977) P a r e s Canada, pp. 80-81. I t was o n l y t h e f e d e r a l government's i n a b i l i t y t o come up w i t h t h e n e c e s s a r y $100,000 t h a t p r e v e n t e d t h e p l a n from b e i n g c a r r i e d o u t . ^ M o n t r e a l S t a r , 5 F e b r u a r y , 1884. 51 T e l e g r a p h , 3 F e b r u a r y , 1894 and a l s o L'Evenement, 5 f e v r i e r , 1894, w h i c h c a l c u l a t e d t h e f i n a n c i a l b e n e f i t s t o be o n l y t e n t i m e s t h e o r i g i n a l i n v e s t m e n t o f $10,000. 52 ^ L'Evenement, 5 f e v r i e r , 1894. 53 I b i d . , s e e - a l s o L o r d Aberdeen's t e l e g r a m t o J o l y a f t e r the c a r n i v a l : "When I have t h e honor o f s u b m i t t i n g t o the Queen some account o f t h e s u c c e s s and e c l a t which have d i s t i n g u i s h e d t h i s , the f i r s t c a r n i v a l i n Quebec, I doubt not t h a t Her M a j e s t y w i l l be g r a c i o u s l y i n t e r e s t e d and g r a t i f i e d by the i n t e l l i g e n c e , a l l t h e more because t h e s u c c e s s has been so l a r g e l y due t o t h e a c t i v i t y o f Her M a j e s t y ' s F r e n c h Canadian s u b j e c t s , whose l o y a l t y i s u n d o u b t e d l y a source o f p r i d e and s a t i s f a c t i o n t o Her M a j e s t y , as i t a s s u r e d l y i s a l s o - 107 - t o t h e B r i t i s h p e o p l e as a whole." M o n t r e a l S t a r , F e b r u a r y 8, 1894. ^4L'Eve'nement, 5 f e v r i e r , 1894. T e l e g r a p h , F e b r u a r y 4, 1896. E i g h t y t o one hundred thousand p e o p l e were e s t i m a t e d t o have w i t n e s s e d t h e a t t a c k on the i c e p a l a c e t h a t y e a r . 5 6 I b i d . I b i d . 58 From a copy o f an u n p u b l i s h e d r e p o r t by J.T. Coulombe (1927) p. 6, i n t h e Quebec M u n i c i p a l A r c h i v e s / A r c h i v e s de l a V i l l e de Quebec a t t h e C i t y H a l l . The department where t h e account o r i g i n a t e d was not i n d i c a t e d . 59 T e l e g r a p h , F e b r u a r y 4, 1896. i 6 o M o n t r e a l S t a r , 13 F e b r u a r y 1889, "The Young Men o f M o n t r e a l " . 61 See Vancouver Sun, 8 F e b r u a r y , 1982 p. B6. "Drunken r e v e l l e r s ' s t u n t s t u r n c a r n i v a l i n t o c i r c u s ' ' / f o r a r e c e n t example o f a Canadian P r e s s s t o r y c a l l i n g t h e c a r n i v a l an "annual c e l e b r a t i o n o f i c e and a l c o h o l " , - o r I b i d . , F e b r u a r y 10, 1982, " C a r n i v a l ' s w i c k e d brew warms r e v e l l e r s " , p. A16. Quebec C i t y ' s i s n o t t h e o n l y c a r n i v a l t o s u f f e r u n f a v o u r a b l e c o v e r a g e , however. There have been deaths i n New O r l e a n s (Vancouver Sun, 4 March, 1981-, "Mardi gras deaths spur s a f e t y c h a r g e s " , p. A9) and R i o (Vancouver P r o v i n c e , F e b r u a r y 24, 1982, p. B3, " R e v e l l e r s whoop i t u p " ) , and some forms o f extreme b e h a v i o u r l i k e p u b l i c n u d i t y and s t r e e t c r i m e , (Vancouver P r o v i n c e , 22 F e b r u a r y , 1982, " T o p l e s s r e v e l l e r s shock R i o " ) . - 108 - NOTES CHAPTER I V B a i l e y , op. c i t . , p. 64. M a s i c o t t e , op. c i t . , p. 93. - 10 9 - BIBLIOGRAPHY I. Primary Sources A. Non-newspaper sources Aberdeen, Countess o f . John T. Saywell, ed. The Canadian J o u r n a l of Lady Aberdeen 1893-1898, Toronto, The Champlain S o c i e t y , 1960. B a i l l a i r g e , C h a r l e s , "Au Maire e t C o n s e i l de V i l l e " , unpublished memorandum, number 5753, Quebec 1 er f e v r i e r 1883, f i v e handwritten l e g a l - s i z e pages.on the f a i l u r e of the c a r n i v a l of 1883, from the A r c h i v e s de l a V i l l e de Quebec, f i l e : "Carnaval". Begon, MMe. E l i s a b e t h Rocbert. Correspondance de 1748-1753 i n P.G. 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"L'etude du XIX e s i e c l e C a n a d i e n - f r a n c a i s " i n S i t u a t i o n de l a r e c h e r c h e s u r l e Canada f r a n c a i s , Fernand Dumont and Yves M a r t i n ( e d i t o r s ) , Quebec 1962, L a v a l , pp. 2 7-42. S i d e r , G e r a l d M. " C h r i s t m a s Mumming and t h e New Year i n O u t - P o r t Newfoundland", P a s t and P r e s e n t , May 1976, pp. 102-125. Zemon-Davis, N a t a l i e . "The Reasons o f M i s r u l e : Youth Groups and C h a r i v a r i s i n S i x t e e n t h C e n t u r y F r a n c e " i n P a s t and P r e s e n t , 1971, pp. 41-75. W a l l o t , J.P. " R e l i g i o n and F r e n c h Canadian Mores i n t h e E a r l y N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y " , Canadian H i s t o r i c a l Review, 52(1) March 1971, pp. 51-94. B. Books and Theses B a i l e y , P e t e r . 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The Anatomy o f P o v e r t y , The C o n d i t i o n o f t h e Working C l a s s i n M o n t r e a l 1897-1929, Toronto 1974, M c C l e l l a n d and S t e w a r t . - 114 - de B o n v i l l e , J e a n . J e a n - B a p t i s t e G a g n e p e t i t , Les t r a v a i l l e u r s m o n t r e l a i s .a l a f i n du XIX e s i e c l e , M o n t r e a l 1975, 1'Aurore. D o y o n - F e r l a n d , M a d e l e i n . Coutumes p o p u l a i r e s du Canada F r a n c a i s , Quebec 1972, A r c h i v e s de f o l k l o r e . G a i g n e b e t , C l a u d e . Le c a r n a v a l , e s s a i s de m y t h o l o g i e p o p u l a i r e , P a r i s . 1974, P a y o t . Hamelin, J e a n , ( d i r e c t e u r ) . Les t r a v a i l l e u r s q u e b e c o i s 1851- 1896, M o n t r e a l 1973, P r e s s e s de l ' U n i v e r s i t e du Q u e b e c . Hamelin, Jean and Yves Roby. H i s t o i r e economique du Quebec 1851-1896, M o n t r e a l 1971. F i d e s . Hamelin, J e a n , P a u l Laroque and Jacques R o u i l l a r d . R e p e r t o i r e des Graves dans l a p r o v i n c e de Quebec au XIX e s i e c l e , M o n t r g a l 1970. Harvey, Fernand. R e v o l u t i o n i n d u s t r i e l l e e t t r a v a i l l e u r s , M o n t r e a l 1978, B o r g a l E x p r e s s . H i l l , E r r o l . The T r i n i d a d C a r n i v a l , Mandate f o r a N a t i o n a l T h e a t r e , A u s t i n (Texas) and London 1972, U n i v e r s i t y o f Texas P r e s s . Huber, Leonard V. M a r d i G r a s , A P i c t o r i a l H i s t o r y o f C a r n i v a l i n New O r l e a n s , G r e t n a , L o u i s i a n a , 1977, P e l i c a n . Jaenen, C o r n e l i u s . The R o l e o f t h e Church i n New F r a n c e , T o r o n t o 1976, M c G r a w - H i l l Ryerson. J o b i n , A l b e r t . H i s t o i r e de Q u e b e c , Quebec 1947. K e a l e y , Greg. Canada I n v e s t i g a t e s I n d u s t r i a l i s m , The R o y a l Commission on t h e R e l a t i o n s o f Labour and C a p i t a l 1889 (abridged) Toronto 1973, U n i v e r s i t y o f Toronto P r e s s . Larocque, P a u l . "La C o n d i t i o n socio-e'conomiquedes t r a v a i l l e u r s de l a v i l l e de Quebec (1896-1914)" u n p u b l i s h e d M a s t e r ' s t h e s i s , U n i v e r s i t e L a v a l , 1970. L e v i t t , Joseph. H e n r i B o u r a s s a and the Golden C a l f ; The S o c i a l Program o f t h e N a t i o n a l i s t s o f Quebec (1900- 1914), Ottawa 1972. L i n t e a u , P a u l - A n d r e , Rene Durocher, Jean-Claude R o b e r t . H i s - t o i r e du Q u e b e c c o n t e m p o r a i n , de l a C o n f e d e r a t i o n a l a c r i s e (1867-1929), M o n t r e a l 1979, Bor§al E x p r e s s . - 115 - M a c C a n n e l l , Dean. The T o u r i s t , A New Theory o f t h e L e i s u r e C l a s s . New York 1976, Schocken Books. M a t h i e u , J a c q u e s . "La C o n d i t i o n ouvrie*re dans l ' i n d u s t r i e de c u i r a Quebec de 1900 a: 1930 d'apres l e s p r o c e s - verbaux d'un s y n d i c a t " , u n p u b l i s h e d MA T h e s i s , U n i v e r s i t e L a v a l , Quebec 1970. M e s n i l , Marianne. T r o i s e s s a i s s u r l a f@te, du f o l k l o r e a 1 ' e t h n o - s e m i o t i q u e , B r u x e l l e s 1974, E d i t i o n s de 1 ' U n i v e r s i t e de B r u x e l l e s . Mont p e t i t , Raymond. Le Temps des Fe~tes au Quebec. M o n t r e a l 1978, E d i t i o n s de 1"Homme. Muchembled, R. C u l t u r e p o p u l a i r e e t c u l t u r e des e l i t e s dans l a France moderne (XV e - X V I I I e s i e c l e s ) , P a r i s 1978 Flammarion. O u e l l e t , Fernand. H i s t o i r e de l a Chambre de Commerce de Quebec. Quebec, 1958. R o u i l l a r d , J a c q u e s . 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Manuel de f o l k l o r e f r a n c a i s c o n t e m p o r a i n : l e s ceremonies p e r i o d i q u e s , c y c l i q u e s e t s a i s o n n i g r e s , Tome 1:3, P a r i s 1947, P i c a r d . Young, P e r r y . The M y s t i c k Crewe, C h r o n i c l e s o f Comus and H i s K i n , New O r l e a n s 1931, C a r n i v a l P r e s s . - 116 - APPENDIX OF PHOTOGRAPHS, MAPS, AND, TABLES.- - 117 - 1. C o l l a g e , the Quebec C a r n i v a l o f 1894 A c o l l a g e o f v a r i o u s n o s t a l g i c and contemporary views o f t h e c i t y f o r t h e c a r n i v a l o f 1894 by L i v e r n o i s . Note t h e f l a g s on the archways, t h e " l i v i n g a r c h " on t h e lower r i g h t , t h e i c e p a l a c e , and t h e s t a t u e o f F r o n t e n a c atop t h e i c e cone i n t h e c e n t r e o f t h e p i c t u r e . J u s t under t h e i c i c l e s o f t h e eaves t o t h e r i g h t o f t h e p i c t u r e o f t h e Chateau F r o n t e n a c above -c.... the i c e cone i s t h e C h i e n d'or i m m o r t a l i z e d i n a n o v e l w r i t t e n i n the p e r i o d , about New F r a n c e . At t h e t o p o f t h e c o l l a g e , t h e Quebec-Levis f e r r y c r o s s e s t h e i c y r i v e r . • Photograph by .Charles.. L i v e r n o i s , c o u r t e s y o f t h e P u b l i c A r c h i v e s . o f Canada. PA - 28844 - 119 - 2. I c e S t a t u e s , t h e Quebec C a r n i v a l o f 1894 J o b i n ' s l a r g e i c e s t a t u e s o f Champlain, L a v a l and Breboeuf, w i t h t h e Seminary and t h e tower o f t h e B a s i l i c a i n t h e background. Photograph.by C h a r l e s L i v e r n o i s , c o u r t e s y o f t h e P u b l i c A r c h i v e s o f Canada. PA - 24069 - 121 - 3. I c e P a l a c e , t h e Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l o f 1894 The i c e p a l a c e , on t h e Esplanade w i t h t h e r o o f s o f the c i t y i n the background. The P u b l i c A r c h i v e s d a t e s t h e p i c t u r e as " c . 1896" b u t t h e s t r u c t u r e b e a r s a c l o s e r resemblance t o t h e p a l a c e a t t h e 1894 c e l e b r a t i o n s . Note t h e F r e n c h , B r i t i s h And American f l a g s on t h e Towers as w e l l as t h e Red E n s i g n . Photograph L i v e r n o i s , t h e P u b l i c Canada. PA - 23630 by C h a r l e s c o u r t e s y o f A r c h i v e s o f - 123 - 4. Archway a t t h e Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l o f 1896 The e l a b o r a t e archway a t t h e c o r n e r o f Crown and S t . Joseph S t r e e t s i n S t . Roch. The s p i r e o f t h e p a r i s h c h u r c h o f S t . Roch appears j u s t t o t h e l e f t o f t h e tower. T h i s s t r u c t u r e was more e l a b o r a t e t h a n t h e archways f o r t h e c a r n i v a l o f 1894. P l a n s i n the M u n i c i p a l a r c h i v e s i n d i c a t e t h a t i t was d e s i g n e d by t h e c i t y e n g i n e e r , C h a r l e s B a i l l a i r g e . Photograph L i v e r n o i s , t h e P u b l i c Canada. PA - 23636 by C h a r l e s c o u r t e s y o f A r c h i v e s o f - 125 - 5. Ice P a l a c e , the Montreal Winter C a r n i v a l of 1889 The i c e palace of the Montreal Winter C a r n i v a l of 1889. Covering much of Dominion Square i n downtown Montreal, i t was the l a r g e s t and most e l a b o r a t e of a l l the c a r n i v a l p a l a c e s , and was c o n s t r u c t e d of thousands of b l o c k s of i c e from the S t . Lawrence R i v e r . T h i s n i g h t - t i m e p i c t u r e of i t s dramatic i n t e r i o r i l l u m i n a t i o n g i v e s a s m a l l i d e a of i t s s t r i k - i n g appearance, even without the presence of the t o r c h l i t p r o c e s s i o n and f i r e w o r k s t h a t accompanied i t s "surrender" d u r i n g the c a r n i v a l c e l e b r a t i o n s . Photograph L i v e r n o i s , the P u b l i c Canada. C - 70917 by Charles c o u r t e s y of A r c h i v e s of - C l i f f s City Boundary Ward Boundaries Parade Route Legislature Ice Palace Citadel Chateau Frontenac St. Lawrence River QUEBEC, CITY 1894 - 128 - T a b l e 1 The Quebec Amateur A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n Name-of Member O c c u p a t i o n '""'Carnival Committee Honorary P r e s i d e n t : Ho. H.G. J o l y de L o t b i n i e r e Former P r e m i e r E x e c u t i v e Comm. C a r n i v a l P r e s i d e n t Honorary V i c e - P r e s i d e n t s The Mayor o f Quebec Hon. T.C. C a s g r a i n R i c h a r d Turner John T. Ross Lawyer Lawyer, Quebec A t t o r n e y G e n e r a l W h o l e s a l e G r o c e r Chamber of Commerce W h o l e s a l e Grocer R a i l w a y Comm. S u b s c r i p t i o n F i n a n c e Comm. P r e s i d e n t : W a l t e r J . Ray Lumber Company Manager F i r s t V i c e P r e s i d e n t : A r t h u r P i c a r d Plumbing Company P a r t n e r F i n a n c e Comm. Second V i c e - P r e s i d e n t : H.B. S c o t t S e c r e t a r y : E r i c D o r i o n Government C l e r k E x e c u t i v e Comm. S u b s c r i p t i o n T r e a s u r e r : H.A. T o f i e l d R.J. Davidson W.A.C. B a l d w i n W. P r i c e Capt. C.J. Dunn Bank C l e r k I n v e s t o r Snowshoe Comm. Commission Merchant Snowshoe Comm. S l i d i n g and F a m i l y t i e s w i t h Lumber Merchant C l e r k , S e c r e t a r y - T r e a s u r e r o f Quebec G a r r i s o n C l u b . Tobogganning Hockey, S k a t i n g - 129 - Table 1 C o n t i n u e d . . . Name o f Member O c c u p a t i o n C a r n i v a l Committee F.S. S t o c k i n g A. Turner F. McKnaughton James P i d d i n g t o n F a m i l y t i e s t o R.M. S t o c k i n g , U.S. V i c e C o n s u l , and G e n e r a l T i c k e t Agent A c c o u n t a n t S l i d i n g and Tobogganning S l i d i n g and Tobogganning Compiled from t h e I n d i c a t e u r de Q u e b e c e t L e v i s f o r 1893-1894, Quebec 1893, Demers, and from G.M. F a i r c h i l d , A S h o r t Account o f ye Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l Holden i n 1894, Quebec 1894, The T e l e g r a p h . - 130 - T a b l e 2 L ' A s s o c i a t i o n a t h l e t i q u e de St.—Roch-de-Quebec, o c c u p a t i o n s o f members, membership on c a r n i v a l committees P r e s i d e n t : J.B. L a l i b e r t e - F u r r i e r , E x e c u t i v e Committee, R a i l w a y Committee V i c e - P r e s i d e n t : G. R o c h e t t e -, ..Tandenu-Drive^Committee S e c r e t a r y : J.E. B o i l y - B o w l i n g andRackets. Committee T r e a s u r e r : - • • i - - .—' - . • N. L a v o i e - Manager, Banque du Peuple ( S t . - R o c h ) , S u b s c r i p t i o n Committee, Snowshoe Committee J . G a u t h i e r - - S u b s c r i p t i o n Committee E.T. N e s b i t t - B u i l d e r and Lumber D e a l e r ; F a c t o r y Corner St.-Roch and Queen S t r e e t s ; Chamber o f Commerce, Snowshoe Committee C h a r l e s Roy - L e a t h e r Merchant, Boot and Shoe M a n u f a c t u r e r , Quebec, Chamber o f Commerce, Snowshoe Committee, S u b s c r i p t i o n Committee J.H. Gignac - Timber Merchant and S a w m i l l Owner, Alderman f o r S t . Roch Ward. J.E. M a r t i n e a u - Hardware Merchant, C h a n c e l l o r o f t h e C a t h o l i c M u t u a l B e n e v o l e n t A s s o c i a t i o n o f S t . Roch, S u b s c r i p t i o n Committee Source: I n d i c a t u e r de Quebec e t L e v i s pour 1893-1894, Quebec 1893, Demers. " - 131 - T a b l e 3 Names and O c c u p a t i o n s o f the.members o f major C a r n i v a l Committees (From G.M. F a i r c h i l d J r . , A S h o r t Account o f ye Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l Holden i n 1894, Quebec 1894, The T e l e g r a p h , and I n - d i c a t e u r de Qu§bec, QuSbec 1894, Demers) 1) E x e c u t i v e Committee: H.G. J o l y de L o t b i n i e ' r e - a v o c a t , former P r e m i e r o f Quebec L.P. P e l l e t i e r - R e g i s t r a r o f Quebec R i c h a r d Turner - o f Whitehead and T u r n e r , W h o l e s a l e G r o c e r s J.U. Gregory - Manager o f Government Steamers; Agent, Department o f Marine J.B. L a l i b e r t e - H a t t e r and Fur Merchant, P r e s i d e n t A s s o c i a t i o n A t h l e t i q u e de S t .-Roch John H. H o l t - o f G.R. Renfrew and Co., H a t t e r s and F u r r i e r s , ; " F u r r i e r s t o t h e Queen" John C. More - Manager, Merchants' Bank o f Canada E r i c D o r i o n - C i v i l S e r v i c e C l e r k , S e c r e t a r y Q.A.A.A. A.E. S w i f t - 2) P r e s s Committee: Thomas Chapais - Member o f t h e L e g i s l a t i v e C o u n c i l , P r o p r i e t o r and E d i t o r C o u r i e r du Canada J u l e s P. T a r d i v e l - P r o p r i e t o r and E d i t o r , La V e r i t e E.D.T. Chambers - E d i t o r , Morning C h r o n i c l e , C o u n c i l l o r f o r S t . L o u i s Ward T.W.S. Dunn - C o u r t House C l e r k N. L e v a s s e u r - M a j o r , N i n t h B a t a l l i o n C i t y Gas I n s p e c t o r and S e c r e t a r y , Quebec Board o f Trade P.C.Roy - d i r e c t e u r , Le M o n i t e u r ( L e v i s ) 3) F i n a n c e Committee: R i c h a r d Turner — . o f Whitehead and T u r n e r , Wholesale G r o c e r s , see a l s o E x e c u t i v e Committee, and Chamber o f Commerce H e r b e r t M. P r i c e - o f H.M. P r i c e and Co., Lumber Merchants and V i c e P r e s i d e n t , Quebec Chamber o f Commerce B e r n a r d Leonard - Alderman f o r S t . L o u i s Ward, P a i n t e r , G l a z i e r and W a l l p a p e r Importer A. P i c a r d - - a number o f A. P i c a r d s i n t h e I n d i c a t e u r W. Shaw - o f t h e C h i n i c Hardware Co. V i c t o r C h a t e a u v e r t - o f J . Renaud and Co., ( C h i n a , G l a s s and E a r t h e n w a r e ) , MPP f o r Quebec.Centre, P r e s i d e n t Quebec Chamber o f Commerce - 132 - Table 3 C o n t i n u e d 4) Snowshoe Committee: C a p t a i n George Van F e l s e n - C l e r k R.J. Davidson - W. B a l d w i n - Commission Merchant M a r t i n F o l e y J r . - Merchant T a i l o r and Alderman f o r S t . P i e r r e Ward J . O ' N e i l l - Octave L a n g l o i s - Manager, M i l l i n e r y Imports Company J . L o r t i e - - ' E. T. N e s b i t t - B u i l d e r and Lumber D e a l e r , Quebec Chamber o f Commerce N. L a v o i e - Manager, Banque du Peuple (St .-Roch) and T r e a s u r e r A s s o c i a t i o n A t h l e t h q u e de S t . Roch de Quebec C h a r l e s Roy - L e a t h e r Merchant, Boot and Shoe M a n u f a c t u r e r , Quebec Chamber o f Commerce 5) C o n s t r u c t i o n Committee: F. X. B e r l i n g u e t - " A r b i t r e O f f i c i e l " , A r c h i t e c t H. S t a v e l y - A r c h i t e c t J.F. Peachey - A r c h i t e c t G. E. Tanguay - A r c h i t e c t , Draughtsman, Quebec Chamber o f Commerce J.M. Lemoine - I n s p e c t o r o f I n l a n d Revenue J . G a u t h i e r - o f J . and 0. G a u t h i e r , P a i n t e r s , D e c o r a t o r s , G l a z i e r s E. J a c o t - Watchmaker and J e w e l l e r E.F. Tache - Deputy Commissioner o f Crown Lands J.H. Gignac - o f 0. Gignac e t F i l s , Timber Merchants and S a w m i l l Owners, C o u n c i l l o r f o r S t . Roch Ward- L.A. B e l a n g e r - Thomas Raymond - A r c h i t e c t C. B a i l l a i r g e - C i t y E n g i n e e r 6) R a i l w a y Committee: R.R. D o b e l l - o f D o b e l l , B e c k e t t and Co., Lumber M e r c h a n t s , Quebec Chamber o f Commerce Hon. P. Garneau - Wholesale Drygoods I m p o r t e r s Hon. T.C. C a s g r a i n - Lawyer, A t t o r n e y G e n e r a l f o r the P r o v i n c e o f Quebec, P r o f e s s o r , L a v a l U n i v e r s i t y , Q.A.A.A. J.B. L a l i b e r t e - F u r r i e r , E x e c u t i v e Committee o f C a r n i v a l P r e s i d e n t , A s s o c i a t i o n A t h l e t i q u e de St.-Roch-de- Quebec C. Duquet - - 133 - A d v e r t i s i n g Committee: Frank Carrel,'. - E d i t o r , P r i n t e r , P r o p r i e t o r Quebec D a i l y _„'.' _ T e l e g r a p h George Duncan - CPR Passenger and F r e i g h t Agent, Quebec C i t y R.M. S t o c k i n g - G e n e r a l T i c k e t Agent f o r t h e R a i l r o a d and Steamship L i n e s , U.S. V i c e - C o n s u l . James G. S c o t t - S e c r e t a r y and Manager o f t h e Quebec and Lake S t . John R a i l w a y ; G e n e r a l Manager and S e c r e t a r y , G r e a t N o r t h e r n R a i l w a y H. Dunning - Manager, Chateau F r o n t e n a c H o t e l J.U. Gregory - Manager o f Government Steamers and Agent f o r t h e Department o f Marine (see E x e c u t i v e Committee) E r i c D o r i o n - see E x e c u t i v e Committee) L.Z. Joncas - M.P. Gaspe, d i r e c t e u r , L'Evenement J . S p a n j a a d t - - 134 - T a b l e 4 The Quebec Chamber o f Commerce 1893-1894, and c o n n e c t i o n s w i t h Quebec C a r n i v a l Committees V. Cha*teauvert, P r e s i d e n t - MPP Quebec C e n t r e , o f J.B. Renaud and Company ( C h i n a , G l a s s and Earthenware) C a r n i v a l F i n a n c e and S u b s c r i p t i o n Committees H.M. P r i c e - F i r s t V i c e P r e s i d e n t - Lumber Merchant, F i n a n c e Committee E.B. Garneau - Second V i c e P r e s i d e n t - Wholesale Drygoods Importer S.S. Bennet - o f Bennet and Co., Commission C o a l Merchants Thomas B r o d i e - o f W. and R. B r o d i e , F l o u r , G r a i n and P r o v i s i o n Merchants R. Turner - Wholesale Grocer and G e n e r a l Merchant, F i n a n c e Committee and Member QAAA R.R. D o b e l l - o f D o b e l l , B e c k e t t and Co., Lumber M e r c h a n t s , Harbour Commission, R a i l w a y Committee C h a r l e s E. Roy - L e a t h e r Merchant, Boot and Shoe M a n u f a c t u r e r , S u b s c r i p t i o n Committee, B o w l i n g and R a c k e t t s Committee, and A s s o c i a t i o n a t h l e t i q u e de St.-Roch E.T. N e s b i t t - B u i l d e r and Lumber D e a l e r , Snowshoe Committee, B o w l i n g and Rackets Committee, L o d g i n g Committee, and A s s o c i a t i o n a t h l e t i q u e de St.-Roch Geo. Tanguay - G e n e r a l P r o v i s i o n Merchant, S u b s c r i p t i o n Committee Thee. B e l a n d - Dry Goods Merchant Wm. Rae - o f A l l a n , Rae and Co., Agents and Owners o f t h e A l l a n L i n e o f S t e a m s h i p s , Quebec Harbour Commission A. L e t e l l i e r - W h o l e s a l e G r o c e r C A . L a n g l o i s - W h o l e s a l e Grocer:, G e n e r a l Merchant N.F. Garneau - M i l l i n e r S. P e t e r s - Saw M i l l Owner N. L e v a s s e u r - S e c r e t a r y T o t a l - 16 members, p l u s s e c r e t a r y O c c u p a t i o n s o f F r e n c h s p e a k e r s : T o t a l : O c c u p a t i o n s o f E n g l i s h s p e a k e r s : T o t a l : 4 r e t a i l merchants 1 l e a t h e r merchant, m a n u f a c t u r e r 1 g e n e r a l p r o v i s i o n e r 2 w h o l e s a l e g r o c e r s 8 3 lumber merchants 1 lumber m a n u f a c t u r e r 1 c o a l merchant 1 p r o v i s i o n e r 1 w h o l e s a l e g r o c e r 1 s t e a m s h i p agent 8 Source: I n d i c a t e u r de Quebec e t L e v i s pour 1893-94, Q u e b e c 1893, Demers, and C M . F a i r c h i l d J r . , A S h o r t Account o f ye Quebec W i n t e r C a r n i v a l Holden i n 1893, Quebec 1893, The T e l e g r a p h . - 135 - T a b l e 5 The Quebec B u s i n e s s Community, 1894 E t h n i c Breakdown o f Major I n d u s t r i e s i n Quebec C i t y i n 1894 A c c o r d i n g t o Company Name. (Source: I n d i c a t e u r de Quebec e t L e V i s pour 1893-94, Quebec 1893 Demers) K i n d o f B u s i n e s s T o t a l '•. F r e n c h . E n g l i s h Unknown Boot and Shoe M a n u f a c t u r e r s 18 12 5 . 1 B u i l d e r s and C o n t r a c t o r s 13 8 5 - L e a t h e r Merchants 11)over- 9 2 - Tanners and C u r r i e r s 1 2 J x a p 12 Lumber, Timber Merchants and B r o k e r s 33 11 22 - Paper M a n u f a c t u r e r s 3 1 2 - P r i n t e r s . 1 6 10 6 Saw M i l l Owners 8 5 3 S h i p B u i l d e r s ( a l l i n L e v i s ) 3 2 1 - P h y s i c i a n s and Surgeons 53 38 15 Avocats ( c a l l e d 1835-1893) 124 91 33 N o t a i r e s (1838-1892) 61 52 9 
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work_en6fn2m2t5hk3i4zhcxizd3cbu	----	totalmanuscript1 1 Urban Forestry and Urban Greening, www.elsevier.de/ufug Published online 10 February 2010 at http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.ufug.2010.01.006 Manicured, romantic, or wild? The relation between need for structure and preferences for garden styles Agnes E. van den Berg Marijke van Winsum-Westra Wageningen University and Research Centre, The Netherlands Please cite this article as: Van den Berg, A.E. & Van Winsum-Westra, M. (2010), Urban Forestry and Urban Greening, doi:10.1016/j.ufug.2010.01.006 Direct correspondence regarding this paper to Agnes van den Berg, Wageningen University and Research Centre, PO Box 47, 6700 AA Wageningen, The Netherlands. Email: agnes.vandenberg@wur.nl 2 Abstract The present research examined individual differences in preferences for three basic garden styles: manicured, romantic, and wild. Building on theoretical insights from landscape preference research, it was hypothesized that preferences for garden styles are guided by psychological needs. This hypothesis was empirically tested in two studies that used Personal Need for Structure (PNS; Neuberg and Newsom, 1993) as a predictor of preferences for allotment gardens in the Netherlands. In Study 1, 150 respondents rated the beauty of 30 photos of manicured, romantic, and wild allotment gardens. Results showed that respondents with a high PNS, as compared to respondents with a low PNS, rated wild gardens as less beautiful, and manicured gardens as more beautiful. Study 2 investigated the relationship between the PNS of allotment gardeners and the actual appearance of their gardens. 123 owners of allotment gardens filled out the PNS scale and classified their garden as manicured, romantic, or wild. Gardeners with a high PNS, as compared to gardeners with a low PNS, more often owned a manicured or romantic garden, and less often owned a wild garden. In both studies, preference for garden types was also related to demographic characteristics, including gender, education level, and age. The theoretical and practical implications of these findings are discussed. Key words: Allotment gardens; Landscape preference; Nature experience; Personality; Visual quality. 3 Introduction In urbanized societies, gardens have become the primary place where people build their relationship with nature (Gross and Lane, 2007). The activity of tending a garden may contribute directly to people’s emotional and physical health (Van den Berg and Custers, 2007). Moreover, gardens bring people in close contact with nature, which can motivate them to care for and protect the natural world (Schultz, 2000). In view of these considerations, it seems important to learn more about the factors which underlie people’s appreciation of gardens. People’s appreciation of a garden is to a large extent determined by its visual appearance, which in turn is strongly influenced by the style of its design. There are many different garden styles, and most gardeners tend to spend much time and effort to create their own preferred garden style (Brookes, 1991). But what leads people to prefer one garden style over others? In the present research, we propose that this preference is shaped to an important degree by people’s psychological needs, in particular, people’s need for structure. In two empirical studies, we examined people’s preferences for manicured, romantic, and wild garden styles. We hypothesized that preferences for manicured gardens would be positively related to need for structure, whereas preferences for wild gardens would be negatively related to need for structure. In the following paragraphs, we first discuss characteristics of allotment gardens in the Netherlands, where the present study was conducted, along with a broad classification of garden styles. We then review previous empirical work on preferences for garden styles. Next, we present a theoretical framework that explains individual differences in preferences for garden styles from the ambivalent meanings of these styles which become apparent under different motivational orientations. We also consider need for structure as a potential indicator of these motivational orientations. Finally, we present and discuss two studies that examined empirical relationships between need for structure and visual and behavioural preferences for allotments gardens of different styles. Allotment Gardens in The Netherlands Some decades after they were introduced in Great Britain, the first allotment gardens appeared in the Netherlands at the beginning of the nineteenth century when goodwill 4 organisations made plots of land available to poor urban labourers for the production of food (Irvine et al., 1999). Nowadays, the Netherlands has about 2000 allotment garden sites which serve a wide variety of purposes for diverse populations (CBS, 2009). Compared to other countries, there are many large sites with hundreds of plots which may encompass 20 hectares or more. Small homes are allowed on most of the larger sites, and many sites grant permission for overnight stay or even permanent habitation. Due to these amenities Dutch allotment sites often have the character of a bungalow park. In the past decades the population of community garden sites in the Netherlands has changed drastically from predominantly older males to a more mixed population including young urban families, artists, ecological gardeners, and immigrants (De Vries and Schöne, 2006). As a result, the appearance of Dutch allotment sites has become quite varied and many different garden styles can typically be found in one site. Garden Styles Garden experts tend to distinguish between many different garden styles, most of which are linked to a specific time period, country of origin, or landscape architect (Turner, 2005). Nevertheless, there appear to be some broad categorizations that encompass almost any style (Miller, 1993). One of these categorizations is the distinction between formal and informal gardens. Formal gardens are characterized by their neat and manicured look, straight lines, and the regular rhythm of repeated plantings (Laird, 1992). Some well-known historical examples are the medieval cloister gardens and the French Renaissance gardens. Today, formal gardens can be minimalist with only a few elements, or more traditional, with a wider variety of orderly arranged plants and other features. As the opposite of formal gardens, informal gardens have a more natural appearance. Within this category, a distinction can be made between romantic and naturalistic gardens (Kendle and and Forbes, 1997). Some typical examples are the eighteenth century English landscape parks and the nineteenth century cottage and rose gardens. Naturalistic gardens involve a more wild aesthetic which allows the garden to grow to its full exuberance, or as some might call it, "to become overgrown". Historical examples include the wild gardens of the arts and crafts movement, which were planted with hardy exotic plants that would thrive without further care. In recent years, naturalistic gardening 5 has adopted a more ecological approach, which aims for sustainability and the inclusion of native rather than exotic plants (Gaston et al., 2007). In sum, three basic types of gardens can be distinguished which represent a continuum ranging from formal to informal garden styles: manicured, romantic, and wild (see also Treib, 1999). Although this categorization may overlook more subtle similarities as well as differences between historically or regionally defined garden styles, it provides a suitable basis for studying general patterns in people’s preferences for gardens and garden styles. Preferences for Garden Styles Thus far, preferences for garden styles have mostly been studied from a historical perspective, with an emphasis on temporal variations in the popularity of styles. Only a few studies have empirically investigated contemporary preferences for different garden styles, mostly in the context of domestic gardens. These studies have revealed systematic variations that are related to individual background characteristics. For example, a survey among Arizona homeowners showed that lower-income homeowners, as compared to higher-income home-owners, were more than twice as likely to prefer pictures of a manicured lawn for the front yard relative to a wild desert (Larsen and Harlan, 2006). A study on the island of Tasmania indicated that gardeners with pro-environmental attitudes more often owned naturalistic local native and woodland gardens, and less often owned more manicured shrub and “gardenesque” gardens (Zagorski et al., 2004). Another more large-scale investigation in the same region revealed that households with a low income and education level, as well as the elderly, more frequently owned manicured garden types, such as exotic, shrub, and flower gardens, and less frequently owned wild garden types, such as native and woodland gardens (Kirkpatrick et al., 2007). Taken together, empirical studies on contemporary garden preferences suggest that there exist systematic individual differences in visual and behavioural preferences that may be interpreted in terms of formal versus informal garden styles. However, because these studies used garden typologies that were not developed to represent formal and informal garden styles, the results remain open to different interpretations. Moreover, the available research has focused primarily on socio-demographic correlates of individual differences 6 in garden preferences, leaving the more psychological dimensions of these differences unspecified. Theoretical Framework Within the broader field of environmental psychology, the psychological mechanisms underlying individual differences in preferences for natural settings have increasingly become the focus of theoretical and empirical efforts (Kaltenborn and Bjerke, 2002; Koole and Van den Berg, 2005; Özgüner and Kendle, 2006; Van den Berg and Koole, 2006; Jorgensen and Tylecote, 2007). Although this research has not directly focused on domestic or allotment gardens, the impact of this work goes beyond specific settings and the ideas and findings can be widely applied. Much of the research in this tradition has started from the observation that the perception and evaluation of natural settings is guided by two fundamental motives: the need to understand one’s environment, and the need to explore and discover (Appleton, 1975; Kaplan and Kaplan, 1989). Thus far, these motives have been used mostly to explain consensus in landscape preferences, such as the observation that people across different ethnic groups and cultures seem to prefer pastoral settings with an optimal balance between possibilities for understanding and exploration (Heerwagen and Orians, 1993; Hagerhall, 2001). However, there is growing recognition that dual motive theories also provide a framework for understanding individual differences, in particular the finding that wild and manicured natural settings may evoke very different reactions in different people In recent years, several studies have documented how the meaning of wild and manicured settings tends to vary depending on whether they are viewed from the perspective of understanding one’s environment, or from the perspective of exploration (Koole and Van den Berg, 2005; Jorgensen and Tylecote, 2007; Ozguner et al., 2007; Konijnendijk, 2008). From the perspective of understanding, wild settings are imbued with a negative meaning, because they tend to lack structure and thus are difficult to understand. Manicured settings, on the other hand, are imbued with a positive meaning, because they are well-structured and easy to understand. From the perspective of exploring one’s environment, the meanings of wild and manicured settings are reversed, because wild settings offer many opportunities to accommodate this need, whereas manicured settings have little to offer. Within this dual motive framework, individual differences in preferred 7 degree of human influence in natural settings can be explained because the needs for understanding and exploration may vary from person to person (Koole and Van den Berg, 2005; Van den Berg and Koole, 2006). Depending on genetic, cultural, personal, and situational factors, some individuals tend to be more oriented towards understanding, whereas others are more focused on the fulfilment of exploration needs. Consequently, meanings of wild and manicured nature, and resultant preferences, may vary across individuals depending on the relative strengths of the two motivational orientations. Personal Need for Structure As yet, there are no reliable and valid measures of the needs for understanding and exploration available within the field of environmental psychology. This makes it difficult to put motivational accounts of individual differences in environmental preferences to the test. However, scales for measuring related concepts are available from other fields. One such concept is Personal Need for Structure (PNS, Neuberg and Newsom, 1993), a motive that is very similar to the need for understanding as described by Kaplan and Kaplan (1989). Like the need for understanding, PNS is theoretically defined as a general epistemic motive, i.e. a motive directed at the acquisition of knowledge. In general, individuals with a strong need for structure desire a quick answer and are aversive to ambiguity. They tend to use simple cognitive representations (e.g., schemata, scripts, stereotypes) to structure the world into a simplified, more manageable form (Neuberg and Newsom, 1993). Although the use of simple cognitive representations may sometimes lead to inaccurate conclusions and closed-mindedness, they enable people to be to be decisive in the face of endless possibilities. Previous research by our own group provides some support for the importance of PNS to environmental preferences (Van den Berg, 2003). In three studies among various samples, we found that a high PNS was related to higher visual preferences for (a) gardens as compared to natural landscapes; (b) agrarian landscapes as compared to wilderness landscapes, and (c) traditionally managed as compared to ecologically managed urban nature. In this research, gardens were treated as one homogeneous category of manicured settings, no distinction was made between different garden styles. Thus, it remains to be tested whether PNS is related to preferences within the generally human-influenced category of gardens. Moreover, our prior research has focused only on 8 visual preferences, the possible impact of PNS on actual gardening practices has not been studied. The Present Research and Hypotheses The aim of the present research was to study the relationship between PNS and preference for garden styles. We conducted two studies that were both situated in the context of allotment garden sites near large cities in the Netherlands. These sites are characterized by their mixed populations and many different garden styles can be found in one site. Apart from the variation in appearance, individual lots tend to be highly comparable in size, form, and layout. Consequently, allotment gardens provide excellent opportunities for studying individual differences in preferences for design styles while controlling for the influences of other garden characteristics. In Study 1, we investigated the relationship between PNS and visual preferences for photos depicting manicured, romantic, and wild gardens. In Study 2, we investigated the relationship between PNS and garden owners’ classifications of their own garden as manicured, romantic, or wild. We hypothesized that PNS would be positively related to a preference for manicured gardens, whereas it would be negatively related to a preference for wild gardens. Theoretically, these relationships can be explained by the fact that the information contained in a well-structured, manicured garden can be easily integrated in existing schemata and thus is easy to understand; the information contained in an unstructured, wild garden on the other hand cannot be so easily integrated in existing schemata and thus requires more effort to understand. PNS was expected to be unrelated to preferences for romantic gardens, presumably because the information in these intermediately structured settings does not serve as a perceptual cue for increased or decreased cognitive effort. Study 1: Visual Preferences Study 1 consisted of an internet survey that asked respondents to rate the beauty of photos of allotment gardens that represented different styles. 9 Figure 1: Examples of Photo’s of Manicured (Top Row), Romantic (Middle Row), and Wild (Bottom Row) Gardens used in Study 1. 10 Method Respondents. The sample consisted of a convenience sample of 150 adults from the Netherlands (73 males, 77 females) with a mean age of 43 years (range 23-79). About half of the respondents were employees of an environmental research institute in the Netherlands, the other half consisted of unidentified persons who visited the website of one of the authors. Because we were interested in finding relationships between two variables (need for structure and garden preferences) our objective was not to reach a representative sample, but rather a varied sample that would ensure sufficient variability in the variables of interest. Stimuli. The stimuli consisted of colour photographs of allotment gardens taken with a digital camera by the authors during visits to sixteen different allotment sites in the Netherlands. From a total of about 1000 images, we selected 30 gardens that we considered typical examples of the three categories of manicured, romantic, and wild gardens (ten for each category). We took special care that the photos were comparable in photographic quality and perspective. We pilot-tested our classification by asking 40 respondents to classify each garden into one of three categories: (1) neat, straight, manicured; (3) lush, abundant, romantic; or (3) natural, wild, ecological. Based on this pilot-test we created a ‘core set’ of 24 gardens by selecting, for each garden category, the eight gardens that were assigned to this category by the highest percentages of respondents (see Fig. 1 for examples). Six gardens that were excluded from the core set were kept as fillers to make speculation about the purpose of the study more difficult. All photos depicted ornamental gardens; kitchen gardens were not included. All photos were taken in the spring season. None of the photos contained water features, cars, or people. However, because most photos were taken at allotment sites with facilities for overnight stay, it was inevitable that some of the photos (about 2-3 in each category) depicted houses. Measures and Procedure. The survey was posted online during the months of July and August. Respondents could choose between a long and a short version. The short version was chosen by 59 respondents and took about 10 minutes to complete. In this version, visual preferences of respondents were measured by asking them to rate the 30 gardens on a 7-point scale ranging from 1 (ugly) to 7 (beautiful). The long version was chosen by 11 91 respondents and took about 25 minutes to complete. In this version respondents were asked to rate each garden on beauty and five other characteristics, including wildness (1 = manicured, 7 = wild). In both versions, the 30 photos were presented in the same random order at a size of 640x480dpi. Each photo was neutrally labelled with a number ranging from 1-30; rating scales were presented one by one on the right side of the screen next to the photo. After the garden ratings, all respondents filled out an adapted six-item version of the PNS (Table 1) based on the German eight-item version (Wolfradt et al., 1999) of the original scale by Thompson, Naccarato and Parker (Thompson et al., 1989). Respondents were asked to indicate the degree to which they agreed with each statement on a 5-point scale (1 = strongly disagree; 5 = strongly agree). The scale showed sufficient reliability and variability, Cronbach’s alpha = .80, M = 2.76, SD = 0.68. Finally, respondents answered questions on their age, gender, and education level. Table 1: Shortened Personal Need for Structure Scale Based on the German Eight-Item Version (Wolfradt et al., 1999) of Neuberg and Newsom’s (1993) Original Scale ( Study 1 & 2). # Item 1 It upsets me to go into a situation without knowing what I can expect from it. 3 I enjoy having a clear and structured mode of life. 6 I find that a well-ordered life with regular hours makes my life tedious, reverse- scored) 7 I don’t like situations that are uncertain. 9 I hate to be with people who are unpredictable. 12 I become uncomfortable when the rules in a situation are not clear Note. Numbers refer to original scale items. Of the eight item version of Wolfradt et al, 1999, only items with factor loadings > .40 were included. 12 Statistical Analysis. All statistical analyses were performed using SPSS, version 15.0. Differences in wildness and beauty ratings between garden categories were assessed from post-hoc pairwise comparisons using a multivariate analysis of variance (MANOVA) with repeated measures. The median split procedure was used to classify respondents into a group with a high PNS (N = 72) and a group with a low PNS (N = 78). Relationships between PNS and preferences for garden styles were tested by subjecting respondents’ beauty ratings for the three garden categories to a repeated measures MANOVA with PNS (High vs. Low) as the independent variable and education level, gender, and age as covariates. Relationships between PNS and socio-demographic characteristics were conducted in a similar manner, with one of the three characteristics (education level, gender, age) as the (dichotomous) independent variable, and PNS and the other two socio-demographic variables as covariates. In the case of significant interactions, post- hoc tests of between-group differences for each garden category were conducted. Table 2: Mean Wildness and Beauty Ratings (Range 1-7) and Standard Deviations (Between Brackets) of Manicured, Romantic, and Wild Allotment Gardens in Study 1. Garden Style Main Effect Garden Type Manicured Romantic Wild F p Wildness (n = 91) 1.76 (0.49) 2.82 (0.72) 5.89 (0.69) 1237.61 <.001 Beauty (n = 150) 3.04 (1.00) 4.87 (0.73) 4.06 (1.21) 126.74 <.001 Note. All pairwise diffences in wildness and beauty ratings between the three garden categories are significant at p < .001. 13 Results Manipulation Check. Respondents’ ratings of wildness were consistent with our a-priori classification of the gardens. As can be seen in Table 2, the ten manicured gardens were generally rated as manicured, whereas the ten wild gardens were generally rated as wild. The ten romantic gardens were rated at intermediate (but relatively manicured) levels.. Perceived Beauty of Garden Types. Table 2 shows that romantic gardens were generally rated as most beautiful, followed by wild gardens. Manicured gardens were rated as least beautiful. In line with our theoretical analysis, there was more individual variation (SDs ≥ 1) in beauty ratings of wild and manicured gardens than in beauty ratings of romantic gardens (SD < 1). Table 3: Means and Standard Deviations (Between Brackets) of Beauty Ratings (Range 1-7) of Manicured, Romantic, and Wild Allotment Gardens as a Function of Personal Need for Structure (PNS), Gender, Education Level, and Age (N =150 , Study 1). Garden Style Interaction Effect Manicured Romantic Wild F p PNS 14.51 <.001 Low (n = 78) High (n = 72) 2.78 (0.93) 3.33 (0.99) 4.86 (0.68) 4.89 (0.78) 4.40 (1.15) 3.69 (1.16) Education Level 3.92 <.05 Academic (n = 127) Non-academic (n = 23) 2.95 (0.94) 3.57 (1.14) 4.82 (0.71) 5.19 (0.78) 4.11 (1.18) 3.78 (1.35) Gender 1.48 ns Men (n = 73) Women (n = 77) 2.95 (0.91) 3.12 (1.06) 4.63 (0.68) 5.10 (0.71) 3.89 (1.18) 4.23 (1.22) Age 0.30 ns ≤ 43 years (n = 78) > 43 years (n = 72) 2.95 (1.03) 3.14 (0.95) 4.81 (0.76) 4.94 (0.68) 4.08 (1.17) 4.03 (1.26) Note. Data are displayed as ‘raw’, unadjusted means. Test results are based on adjusted means. Means printed in boldface differ significantly between two groups of the independent variable within a garden category at p < .05. 14 PNS and Garden Preferences. As can be seen in Table 3, participants high on PNS, as compared to participants low on PNS, gave higher beauty ratings to manicured gardens, and lower beauty ratings to wild gardens. PNS was not related to the perceived beauty of romantic gardens. Demographic Characteristics and Garden Preferences. Table 3 also shows that there were significant differences in beauty ratings as a function of education level and gender (controlled for PNS). Education level interacted significantly with garden type, so that respondents with an academic education rated manicured gardens as less beautiful, and wild gardens as somewhat more beautiful, than non-academic respondents. Women generally gave higher beauty ratings to all garden types than did men. Although the influence of gender was significant only for romantic and wild gardens (and not for manicured gardens), the overall interaction effect between gender and garden type was not significant. This suggests that the influences of gender reflect women’s higher appreciation of gardens in general, than a higher appreciation of specific garden types. Age was not related to beauty ratings of any of the three garden categories. Discussion As predicted, individuals with a high need for structure rated manicured gardens as more beautiful, and wild gardens as less beautiful, than did individuals with a low need for structure. These findings are consistent with the notion that preferences for gardens are shaped to an important degree by people’s psychological needs. A remarkable finding of Study 1 is that the gardens were not rated as very beautiful; even the ratings for the most preferred romantic garden category were not far above the midpoint of the scale. This finding seems at odds with the many studies that have reported a strong preference for natural settings, which has been interpreted as evidence for a ‘biophilia’, or innate tendency to love nature (Ulrich, 1993; Joye, 2007). However, it is consistent with findings of previous research (Van den Berg et al., 2003), in which we found that gardens were generally rated less beautiful than large-scale natural landscapes. A weak visual preference for gardens could therefore be typical for modern Western societies, in which large-scale natural areas tend to be perceived as more exceptional and precious than tamed nature. It is also possible, however, that the relatively low beauty 15 ratings reflect other factors related to the quality of the photos, the specific composition of the sample, or the use of allotment gardens as stimuli. Study 2: Garden Appearance In Study 1 we found a relationship between PNS and visual preferences for gardens. However, there may be a discrepancy between which garden type a person prefers aesthetically, and which type of garden he or she actually owns (Larsen and Harlan, 2006). Such a discrepancy may be explained by the fact that actual gardening behaviours are influenced by many practical and contextual factors besides personal and aesthetic considerations, including issues of appropriateness, status, maintenance, play opportunities for children, and copying of neighbour gardens (Zmyslony and Gagnon, 1998). Consequently, we conducted a second study in which we tested for a relationship between PNS and the actual appearance of people’s own allotment gardens. Method Respondents. The sample consisted of 123 Dutch allotment gardeners (67 males, 56 females) with a mean age of 59 years (range 32-87). The sample was drawn from members of 12 large allotment garden sites in the Netherlands. These 12 allotment sites formed a subset of the 16 sites that were previously visited and photographed by the authors. Respondents were invited to participate by means of a notice in the newsletter of their allotment organisation. Procedure and Questionnaire. The study was conducted as part of the ‘Vitamin G’ program on health benefits of green space (Groenewegen et al., 2006). For the purpose of the current research, questions on the appearance of one’s garden and the need for structure were embedded in a survey on the life style of allotment gardeners. Gardeners were asked to indicate which description fitted best with the appearance of their own garden: (1) neat, straight, manicured; (3) lush, abundant, romantic; or (3) natural, wild, ecological. Need for structure was measured by the 6-item PNS. The scale showed sufficient reliability and variability, Cronbach’s alpha = 0.85, M = 3.27, SD = 0.79. Apart from questions on garden purpose (ornamental vs. kitchen) and demographics such as age, gender and education level, the other questions in the survey were irrelevant to the current research and will not be discussed. 16 Respondents could choose between an online version of the survey (94 respondents) or a paper-and-pencil version (29 respondents) that could be obtained from the allotment organization. Data collection lasted from February to April. As an incentive, we offered respondents a chance to win a lottery ticket of 12.50 Euro. Statistical Analysis. Data analysis was conducted in two steps. As a first, preliminary step, we applied a simple cross-tabs procedure to estimate differences in frequencies of gardens between groups with a high and low PNS (based on median split). As a second step, we conducted a multinomial logistic regression analysis to determine if PNS remains significantly related to garden type after controlling for socio-demographic variables. Adjusted odds ratios were calculated for three separate contrasts (1) manicured versus wild; (2) romantic versus wild; and (3) manicured versus romantic. These odds ratios present the exponent of the beta weights for each predictor. An odds ratio of 1.0 means that, controlling for other variables in the equation, the predictor has no effect (even odds). Coefficients greater than 1.0 indicate a positive effect on (or increase in the odds of) having one garden type as compared to another; coefficients less than 1.0 indicate a negative effect on (or decrease in the odds of) having one garden type as compared to another. Frequencies of Garden Types and Need for Structure. The sample included 50 kitchen gardens and 73 ornamental gardens. Although the romantic style was less typical for kitchen gardens than for ornamental gardens, there was substantial variation in garden types within both garden categories (cf. Fig. 2). Of all the gardens, 39% were classified as ‘neat, straight, manicured’, 37% as ‘natural, wild, ecological’, and 24% as ‘lush, abundant, romantic’. As shown in Fig. 2, gardeners with a high PNS more often classified their garden as manicured, and less often classified their garden as wild, than did gardeners with a low PNS. They also more often classified their garden as romantic. These differences were found for ornamental gardens as well as for kitchen gardens. 17 28.1% 21.9% 50.0% 24.0% 8.0% 68.0% 39.0% 43.9% 17.1% 68.0% 12.0% 20.0% 0% 20% 40% 60% 80% 100% Ornamental Kitchen Ornamental Kitchen manicured picturesque wild Figure 2: Frequency Distribution of Garden Types as a Function of Garden Purpose (Kitchen vs. Ornamental) and Personal Need for Structure (PNS; Study 2). Multinomial Regression Analysis. Table 4 shows that PNS was significantly related to the odds of having a manicured or romantic as compared to a wild garden type. When other variables are held constant, respondents with a high PNS are 3.25 more likely than respondents with a low PNS to have a manicured as compared to a wild garden, and 6.11 times more likely to have romantic as compared to a wild garden. Need for structure did not influence the odds of having a romantic versus a manicured garden. The analysis also revealed significant influences of gender, age, and garden purpose (kitchen vs. ornamental), independent of need for structure. Men were 2.93 times more likely than women to own a manicured as compared to a wild garden. Age was negatively related to having a romantic versus a manicured garden; the odds of having a romantic compared to a manicured type decreased by 6% with each increasing year of age. As noted before, owners of kitchen gardens were more likely to have a manicured or a wild garden compared to a romantic garden High PNS Low PNS 18 Table 4: Odd Ratios of the Coefficients of Multinomial Logistic Regression of Garden Types on Gardener Characteristics (N = 123; Study 2). Predictors Manicured/ Wild Exp (β) Picturesque/ Wild Exp (β) Manicured/ Picturesque Exp (β) High (vs. low) PNS Male (vs. Female) Lower (vs. higher) education Age Kitchen (vs. ornamental) garden 3.25* 2.93* 1.98 1.02 1.33 6.11** 1.46 2.35 .96 .28* .53 .50 .84 1.06* 4.80* Log likelihood Nagelkerke’s R2 Df -46.33 .355 10 p < .05.** p < .01. . Discussion The results of Study 2 provide further support for a relationship between PNS and preference for garden types. As expected, gardeners with a high PNS were more likely to have a manicured garden as compared to a wild garden. They were also more likely to have a romantic as compared to a wild garden. This latter finding was unexpected, but is consistent with the finding of Study 1 that romantic gardens are perceived as relatively manicured. PNS did not differentiate between owners of romantic and manicured gardens. A limitation of Study 2 is that garden types were measured in terms of respondents’ own classifications, and not by means of objective ratings by independent observers. Previous research has shown that some people have, for example, smaller conceptions of 19 wilderness than others (Lutz et al., 1999). Consequently, the results may reflect conceptual differences rather than differences in the actual appearance of gardens. To obtain an indication of the validity of the gardeners’ classifications of their garden, we compared these classifications with our own impressions of the overall atmosphere and appearance of the sites in terms of manicured, romantic, or wild. Only for two out of twelve sites, our own classification did not match with the most frequent classification as provided by the gardeners, which equals an “interobserver reliability” of 83%. Thus, we do not deem it likely that interpretational differences in the classification of gardens formed a major threat to the validity of the research. General Discussion In two studies, we investigated the influence of personal need for structure (PNS) on preferences for manicured, romantic, and wild allotment gardens. The first study showed that PNS was positively related to the perceived beauty of manicured allotment gardens, and negatively related to the perceived beauty of wild allotment gardens. The second study showed that allotment gardeners with a high PNS, as compared to gardeners with a low PNS, more often classified their own garden as manicured or romantic, and less often classified their garden as wild. Taken together, these findings lend support to the notion that individual differences in preferences for garden styles are guided by fundamental psychological needs (Koole and Van den Berg, 2005). The current research also sheds some light on other variables besides need for structure that may influence individual variation in preferences for garden types. Consistent with previous research (Van den Berg and Koole, 2006; Kirkpatrick et al., 2007), a higher education level was found to be related to a lower aesthetic appreciation of more human- influenced (manicured and romantic) gardens; however, there were no indications for an influence of education level on actual gardening practices. In both studies, gender was found to be an important influence on preferences. Men were generally less appreciative of gardens than women, in particular wild or romantic gardens, and they more often owned a manicured garden as compared to a wild garden. These findings may reflect a greater male desire to have control over nature (Gross and Lane, 2007). This desire may be specific for gardens and other land that is privately owned, because thus far gender has not been found to play an important role in preferences for public parks and landscapes. 20 Romantic gardens were less frequent among the elderly, perhaps because of their labour intensiveness which can pose problems with increasing age. Romantic gardens were also less frequent among owners of kitchen gardens, probably because this type is less suitable for kitchen gardens. Taken, together these findings suggest that, besides psychological needs, demographic, cultural, and practical factors play an important role in preferences for garden type and should be considered in more depth in future research. By conducting two studies that employed different methodologies, the current research provides convergent evidence for an influence of need for structure on preference. However, there were also some differences in the findings of the two studies that are difficult to interpret. Most importantly, romantic gardens were less preferred in Study 2 than in Study 1. This difference may reflect differences in sample composition, such as the fact that respondents in Study 2 were generally older and lower educated than respondents in Study 1. However, the lower preference for romantic gardens in Study 2 could also be related to the use of a behavioural outcome measure. Romantic gardens are generally known as a labour-intensive and time-consuming garden type. Therefore, this garden type may not have been practically feasible for many gardeners, encouraging them to adopt a more realistic, but also more controversial, wild or manicured type. In the absence of a “shared idealized image” individual differences may have become more pronounced (Hagerhall, 2001). If this latter interpretation is valid, then our research suggests that studying people’s own gardens offers a promising venue for expanding and deepening the understanding of individual variation in landscape preference. Limitations and Future Perspectives In the present research garden styles were studied in the context of Dutch allotment gardens. This may have limited the generalizability of the results to other countries and to other types of domestic or public gardens. Even though allotment sites in the Netherlands have adopted a more open-minded regime, they still represent a relatively controlled world in which certain styles, in particular more manicured styles, may be more common than in other domains. This may have lead to inflated estimates of the relationship between garden styles and need for structure. However, it seems unlikely that our findings are unique to allotment gardens in the Netherlands. We used a broad categorization of garden styles based on international trends and examples. Moreover, our 21 categorization is consistent with current insights into the major dimensions underlying people’s perception of natural settings (Özgüner and Kendle, 2006). This suggests that our methods and results are widely applicable to any kind of gardens or natural settings. Nevertheless, it is important for future research to replicate the results of the current study in different countries, with different types of gardens and with different groups of respondents. The current research treated PNS as a personality trait. However, PNS may not only vary across persons, but also across situations (Kruglanski, 1989). Some situations, such as situations involving time pressure or emergency, may enhance PNS, and thus, temporarily increase the preferred degree of order and human influence in natural settings. By examining effects of situationally induced changes in PNS future research may provide more insight into the possible causal nature of the relationship between PNS and preferences for garden styles. Another limitation of the current research is that it focused one-sidedly on ‘the understanding side’ of nature experience. However, according to leading theories, human responses to natural settings are not only guided by a need for understanding (or structure), but also by a need for exploration (Appleton, 1975; Kaplan and Kaplan, 1989). It would be informative to simultaneously study the influence of both these needs in future research on preferences for garden types. To obtain valid measures of these needs, future research might draw upon motivational theories of self-regulation, such as regulatory focus theory (Higgins, 1997), which makes a distinction between a prevention focus (i.e., a focus on avoiding negative outcomes) vs. a promotion focus (i.e., a focus on obtaining positive outcomes) that bears close resemblance to the distinction between the need for understanding vs. exploration. In a similar vein, the theory of Personality Systems Interaction (Koole and Kuhl, 2003) makes a distinction between state vs. action orientation that also appears highly relevant. Thus, it seems that research on the motivational foundations of nature experience has much to gain from developing closer linkages with research on self-regulation. 22 Practical Relevance The present research shows that which garden style people prefer is not, as is often thought, a matter of subjective aesthetic taste. Rather, preferences for garden styles are motivated by fundamental psychological needs that play a crucial role in human functioning. Gardens provide their owners with many benefits, including opportunities for exercise, restoration from stress, and social contacts (Dunnett and Quasim, 2000). It is not unlikely that people will be less able to enjoy these benefits if the type of their garden deviates too much from their personally preferred level of order and human influence, presumably because they do not feel self-fulfilled and personally satisfied in such gardens. The present research offers guidelines for which garden style fits best with which type of person, that may be used by garden owners, garden designers, horticulturists, and manufacturers of garden supplies. 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Landscape and Urban Planning 74, 139-157. 25 Ozguner, H., Kendle, A.D., Bisgrove, R.J., 2007. Attitudes of landscape professionals towards naturalistic versus formal urban landscapes in the UK. Landscape and Urban Planning 81, 34-45. Schultz, P.W., 2000. Empathizing with nature: The effects of perspective taking on concern for environmental issues. Journal of Social Issues 56, 391-406. Thompson, M.M., Naccarato, M.E., Parker, K.E., 1989. Assessing cognitive need: The development of the Personal Need for Structure and Personal Fear of Invalidity scales. Paper presented at the annual meeting of the Canadian Psychological Association, Halifax, Nova Scotia. Treib, M., 1999. Power plays: the garden as pet. In: Francis, M., Hester, R.T. (Eds.), The meaning of gardens: Idea, place, and action. MIT Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts, pp. 86-93. Turner, T., 2005. Garden history: Philosophy and design 2000 BC-2000 AD Spon, Abingdon. Twiss, J., Dickinson, J., Duma, S., Kleinman, T., Paulsen, H., Rilveria, L., 2003. Community gardens: Lessons learned from California healthy cities and communities. American Journal of Public Health 93, 1435-1438. Ulrich, R.S., 1993. Biophilia, biophobia and natural landscapes. In: Kellert, S.R., Wilson, E.O. (Eds.), The biophilia hypothesis. Island Press, Washington, DC, pp. 73-137. Van den Berg, A.E., 2003. Personal Need for Structure and landscape preference. In: Hendrickx, L., Jager, W., Steg, L.R.G., Groningen. (Eds.), Human decision making and environmental perception: Understanding and assisting human decision making in real-life settings. . University of Groningen, Groningen. Van den Berg, A.E., Custers, M.H.G., 2007. Natuur, stress en cortisol: Experimenteel onderzoek naar de invloed van tuinieren en activiteiten in groenkamers op het fysiologisch, affectief en cognitief herstel van stress (Nature, stress and cortisol. Experimental research into the influence of outdoor and indoor gardening on physiological, affective and cognitive restoration from stress). Report 1629. Alterra, Wageningen (in Dutch). 26 Van den Berg, A.E., Koole, S.L., 2006. New wilderness in the Netherlands: An investigation of visual preferences for nature development landscapes. Landscape and Urban Planning 78, 362-372. Van den Berg, A.E., Koole, S.L., van der Wulp, N.Y., 2003. Environmental preference and restoration: (How) are they related? Journal of Environmental Psychology 23, 135-146. Wolfradt, U., Sommer, S., Rademacher, J., 1999. Dass Persönliche Bedürfnis nach Struktur als klinisches differential-diagnostisches Persönlichkeitsmerkmal (Personal need for structure as a personality trait for clinical diagnostics). . Zeitschrift für Klinische Psychologie, Psychiatrie, und Psychotherapie 47, 307-316. Zagorski, T., Kirkpatrick, J.B., Stratford, E., 2004. Gardens and the bush: gardeners’ attitudes, garden types and invasives. Australian Geographical Studies 42, 207-220. Zmyslony, J., Gagnon, D., 1998. Residential management of urban front-yard landscape: A random process? Landscape and Urban Planning 40, 295-307. 
work_esyca52ph5f75dlhu4il5xlucm	----	c o n t r i b u t o r s João Pedro d’Alvarenga is Research Fellow of the CESEM- Centro de Estudos de Sociologia e Estética Musical (Centre for the Study of Sociology and Aesthetics of Music) at the Universidade Nova, Lisbon. He was Assistant Professor at the Universidade de Évora, where he taught from 1997 to 2010. He has published extensively on late medieval and sixteenth-, early seventeenth- and early eighteenth-century Portuguese sacred vocal music and manuscript sources, and eighteenth-century keyboard music, especially that of Domenico Scarlatti and Carlos Seixas. Amanda Babington recently completed her PhD (‘Handel’s Messiah: The Creative Process’) and will shortly be complet- ing an edition of Handel’s Dettingen Te Deum and Dettingen Anthem for the Hallische Händel-Ausgabe. In addition to her academic work, Amanda directs the University of Manchester Baroque Orchestra and is a freelance violinist and recorder player with various period ensembles. Claudio Bacciagaluppi graduated in musicology from the Universität Zürich and completed his DPhil at the Univer- sité de Fribourg (Switzerland) with Luca Zoppelli. He is now Research Assistant at Fribourg and works for the Swiss branch of RISM. His field of research is sacred music in eighteenth-century Naples and in seventeenth-century Switzerland. His dissertation was published with the title Rom, Prag, Dresden: Pergolesi und die Neapolitanische Messe in Europa (Kassel: Bärenreiter, 2010). Rogério Budasz is Associate Professor at the University of California, Riverside. He obtained his PhD from the Uni- versity of Southern California in 2001 and is interested in early instrumental and stage music in Portugal and Brazil. Emily I. Dolan is Assistant Professor of Music at the Uni- versity of Pennsylvania. Her research focuses on instru- ments, orchestration and the aesthetics of the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, with particular emphasis on the intersections of music, science and technology. Angela Fiore has since 2004 been artistic coordinator of the Centro di Musica Antica Pietà de’ Turchini, Naples. She pursues research into the musical life of religious insti- tutions in Naples in the seventeenth and eighteenth centu- ries. In addition, she holds a diploma in violin from the Conservatorio D. Cimarosa, Avellino, and has specialized in baroque violin repertory on period instruments. She gives concerts in Italy and abroad, performing in orches- tras and chamber groups. Tony Gable read modern languages at Christ’s College, Cambridge and wrote his PhD on French renaissance drama, subsequently teaching at the University of East Anglia and at Queen Mary, University of London. His main musical interest is in the work of Mozart’s contemporaries. Emily H. Green has recently received an American Council of Learned Societies New Faculty Fellowship, and is spend- ing 2011–2013 as a Postdoctoral Fellow at Yale University. She was awarded her PhD by Cornell University in 2009 and is completing a book on the functions of dedications in the context of late eighteenth-century consumerism. She is also active as a pianist and fortepianist. Jane Schatkin Hettrick, Professor emeritus, Rider Univer- sity, has edited the masses, symphonies and organ concerto of Antonio Salieri (published by A-R Editions, Doblinger, Garland and Denkmäler der Tonkunst in Österreich) as well as music by Florian Gaßmann, Franz Schneider, Anna Bon, Pietro Sales and other eighteenth-century composers. A concert organist and practising church musician, her interests focus on the intersection of music and theology. She served on the final editorial board of the hymnal Lu- theran Worship (St Louis: Concordia, 1982) and has written extensively on liturgy and sacred music. A recent article, ‘A Cautionary Tale’ (The American Organist, June 2010), exposing corruption in the hiring practices of church or- ganists, generated considerable reaction in professional organist circles. Ludwig Holtmeier received his PhD from the Technische Universität Berlin and is currently Professor of Music Theory at the Hochschule für Musik Freiburg. He is one of the editors of the journal Musik & Ästhetik, former president of the Gesellschaft für Musik und Ästhetik and a co-founder of the Gesellschaft für Musiktheorie. His publications in- clude ‘From “Musiktheorie” to “Tonsatz”: National Social- ism and German Music Theory after 1945’ (Music Analysis 23/2–3 (2004)) and ‘Heinichen, Rameau, and the Italian Thoroughbass Tradition: Concepts of Tonality and Chord in the Rule of the Octave’ (Journal of Music Theory 51/1 (2007)). Christine Jeanneret is Assistant Professor at the Université de Genève. Her research focuses on the philology, codicol- ogy and making of critical editions of Italian renaissance and baroque music. She is currently working on several international projects in the fields of the late madrigal (The Marenzio Project, working to create a new dynamic digital edition of Marenzio’s works), Roman keyboard music, Venetian opera and Roman cantatas. David Wyn Jones is Professor of Music at Cardiff Univer- sity, where he is currently Head of the School of Music. He has published widely on music of the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, specifically music of Haydn and Beethoven, and practices of music dissemination. His biog- raphy of Haydn in the Cambridge University Press Musical Lives series was published in 2009, and a major contextual study, The Symphony in Beethoven’s Vienna, appeared in 2006 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). He is cur- rently engaged on a cultural history of music in Vienna from 1600 to 1900. Jonathan Keates teaches at the City of London School. He is the author of Handel, The Man & His Music (revised edition, London: Bodley Head, 2008) and Purcell (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1995). He is a Fellow of the Royal Society of Literature. Martin Küster is currently completing his dissertation (‘Vocal and Instrumental Music Theory in Eighteenth- Eighteenth-Century Music 8/2, 173–174 © Cambridge University Press, 2011 doi:10.1017/S1478570611000029 173https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1478570611000029 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S1478570611000029 https://www.cambridge.org/core Century Germany’) at Cornell University. His interests in- clude the intersections of music history and music theory, eighteenth-century song, historically informed perfor- mance and analysis. Ellen Lockhart has recently completed a PhD in music- ology at Cornell University. She is now begininning a three-year postdoctoral fellowship at Princeton Univer- sity’s Society of Fellows in the Liberal Arts. Justin London is Professor of Music at Carleton College in Northfield, MN, where he teaches courses in music theory, aesthetics, music psychology and the Delta Blues. He has written on a wide range of subjects, from humour in Haydn to the perception and cognition of complex metres. He served as President of the Society for Music Theory in 2007–2009. Barbara M. Reul is Associate Professor of Musicology at Luther College, University of Regina. Since 2008 she has served as president of the International Fasch Society, based in Zerbst/Anhalt in Germany. The volume Music at German Courts, 1715–1760: Changing Artistic Priorities, which she edited and translated with Samantha Owens and Janice B. Stockigt and to which she contributed, was recently published by Boydell & Brewer. David Sears is a doctoral student in music theory at McGill University. His current research compares notions of closure in the history of music theory with perceptual principles that define closure as a vehicle for arresting expectation. Yael Sela (DPhil, University of Oxford) is Postdoctoral Fellow in Musicology at the Hebrew University of Jerusa- lem. Her research focuses on domestic musical culture, patronage, gender and musical representation of identity in early modern England and eighteenth-century Germany. Steven Zohn is Associate Professor of Music History at Temple University. He is the author of Music for a Mixed Taste: Style, Genre, and Meaning in Telemann’s Instrumen- tal Works (New York: Oxford University Press, 2008), which received the William H. Scheide Prize of the Ameri- can Bach Society, and has recently completed work on a critical edition of Telemann’s secular cantatas. In addition to his research on music of the German late baroque period, he is professionally active as a baroque flautist. � c o n t r i b u t o r s � 174https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S1478570611000029 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S1478570611000029 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_er3qvs4h6ndrzdtv7g35v7qqzq	----	ARISTOTELIAN ANCIENT CONSTITUTION AND ANTI-ARISTOTELIAN SOVEREIGNTY IN STUART IRELAND ARISTOTELIAN ANCIENT CONSTITUTION AND ANTI-ARISTOTELIAN SOVEREIGNTY IN STUART IRELAND* I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L University College Dublin A B S T R A C T. Aristotelianism and anti-Aristotelianism are essential categories for the interpretation of political discourse in Stuart Ireland, Scotland, and England. In the 1650s, the Capuchin Richard O’Ferrall defined the future of the Irish kingdom by means of its past. This Irish ancient constitution was not anchored in J. G. A. Pocock’s common law mind, but rather in Aristotelianism. Ancient constitution discourse in England and Scotland shared this Aristotelian basis. Responding to O’Ferrall, John Lynch, Catholic archdeacon of Tuam, employed openly anti-Aristotelian arguments which had been pioneered by the Jacobean attorney general for Ireland, Sir John Davies. Recognizing the Aristotelian and anti-Aristotelian nature of these discourses enables the incorporation of both Catholic and Protestant writers, whether educated in Ireland, England, or France, within a coherent account of political thought across the Stuart world. Kingship constituted the primary political discourse in seventeenth-century Ireland, whether that discourse took place among the half-starved rioters who roamed Ulster in 1641 or among the sleek nobles and gentlemen who welcomed the lord lieutenant to Kilkenny in 1649. Ireland was not exceptional in this; the same was true in Scotland and England. Preliminary treatments of the seven- teenth-century discourse of king and kingdom in Ireland have revealed concepts and concerns substantially similar to those of early modern Scotland, resting on the international and trans-confessional foundations of humanism and scholastic philosophy.1 However, historians have struggled to settle the question of the School of History and Archives, Newman Building, University College Dublin, Belfield, Dublin 4, Ireland ian.campbell@ucd.ie * I would like to thank Jane Ohlmeyer, Tom O’Connor, Micheál Ó Siochrú, Patrick Walsh, and Liam Chambers, and participants at seminars in Dublin and Cambridge for their comments on earlier versions of this article, which is based on research funded by the Irish Research Council for the Humanities and Social Sciences. 1 Brendan Bradshaw, The Irish constitutional revolution of the sixteenth century (Cambridge, 1979); Tadhg Ó hAnnracháin, ‘‘‘Though hereticks and politicians should misinterpret their goode zeal’’: political ideology and Catholicism in early modern Ireland’, in J. H. Ohlmeyer, ed., Political thought in seventeenth- century Ireland: kingdom or colony (Cambridge, 2000), pp. 155–75; Bernadette Cunningham, ‘Representations of king, parliament and the Irish people in Geoffrey Keating’s Foras Feasa ar Éirinn and John Lynch’s Cambrensis Eversus (1662)’, in Ohlmeyer, ed., Political thought, pp. 131–54; The Historical Journal, 53, 3 (2010), pp. 573–591 f Cambridge University Press 2010 doi:10.1017/S0018246X10000208 573 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core relationship between the English common law, the ancient constitution appar- ently derived from it, and political discourse elsewhere in Europe.2 This article will attempt to open this problem up to a view from Galway, St Malo, and Rome. By adopting an approach analogous to that of the ‘new British history’, it will propose that Aristotelianism and anti-Aristotelianism provide a basic interpret- ative framework for all three kingdoms.3 The papal bureaucrat Richard O’Ferrall and John Lynch, Catholic archdeacon of Tuam, fought an intense book-battle between 1658 and 1667.4 O’Ferrall offered his Roman patrons an ancient constitution for Ireland which incorpor- ated a contract between the English kings and the pope. Since that contract had been broken by royal heresy, O’Ferrall wrote, the kingdom now reverted to the pope and was his to bestow on a suitable Catholic prince. The archdeacon, staunch for the Stuarts, did not quibble with the details of O’Ferrall’s argument. Rather, he employed the anti-Aristotelian sovereignty theory of Jean Bodin and Sir John Davies to uproot completely the constitution which the Capuchin had described. Lynch, a generally conservative churchman committed to traditional humanism and the Aristotelian virtues, was thus driven to experiment with anti-Aristotelian doctrines in order to refute an opponent drawing on a highly esteemed historical tradition: in this he was a typically eclectic late seventeenth- century political writer.5 The threat of O’Ferrall’s treason, as Lynch saw it, and the uselessness of the Old English parliamentary tradition by the 1660s, even caused the archdeacon to embrace the champion of the New English Protestants, Sir John Davies, and the controversial parliament of 1613. Most importantly, a close reading of the debate between Lynch and O’Ferrall suggests that ancient constitution discourse itself was fundamentally Aristotelian. Ian W. S. Campbell, ‘Alithinologia: John Lynch and seventeenth-century Irish political thought’ (Ph.D. thesis, Trinity College, Dublin, 2008), pp. 138–80; J. H. Burns, The true law of kingship: concepts of monarchy in early modern Scotland (Oxford, 1996). 2 Glen Burgess, ‘Revisionism, politics and political ideas in early Stuart England’, Historical Journal, 34 (1991), pp. 465–78; idem, The politics of the ancient constitution: an introduction to English political thought, 1603–1642 (London, 1992); idem, Absolute monarchy and the Stuart constitution (London, 1996); idem, ‘England and Scotland’, in idem, H. A. Lloyd, and Simon Hodson, eds., European political thought, 1450–1700: religion, law, and philosophy (London, 2007), pp. 332–75; J. P. Sommerville, Royalists and patriots: politics and ideology in England 1603–1640 (2nd edn, London, 1999). 3 J. G. A. Pocock, ‘British history: a plea for a new subject’, Journal of Modern History, 47 (1975), pp. 601–21; J. H. Ohlmeyer, ‘The ‘‘old’’ British histories?’, Historical Journal, 50 (2007), pp. 499–512. 4 Eudoxius Alithinologus [John Lynch], Alithinologia sive veridica responsio ad invectam mendaciis ([St Malo], 1664); idem, Supplementum alithinologiae ([St Malo], 1667); Richard O’Ferrall and Robert O’Connell, Commentarius Rinuccinianus, de sedis apostolicae legatione ad foederatos Hiberniae catholicos per annos 1645–9, ed. Stanislaus Kavanagh (6 vols., Dublin, 1932–49) (hereafter Com. Rin.), V, pp. 485–504; Nienke Tjoelker and Ian W. S. Campbell, ‘Transcription and translation of London version of Richard O’Ferrall’s report to Propaganda fide (1658)’, Archivium Hibernicum, 61 (2008), pp. 7–61; P. J. Corish, ‘Two contemporary historians of the Confederation of Kilkenny: John Lynch and Richard O’Ferrall’, Irish Historical Studies, 8 (1953), pp. 217–36. 5 This last phrase is Greenberg’s, see Janelle Greenberg, The radical face of the ancient constitution: St Edward’s ‘laws’ in early modern political thought (Cambridge, 2001), pp. 34–5. 574 I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core I On 5 March 1658, O’Ferrall submitted a report on Irish affairs to the secretary of the congregation Propaganda Fide, the committee of cardinals charged with the evangelization of Protestant Europe and the wider non-Catholic world.6 This report was a radical proposal for a reconstituted Irish church which would ex- clude those Irish Catholics of English descent, the Old English, from all auth- ority.7 As an instance of Old English wickedness, O’Ferrall offered their support for the illegitimate Stuart claim to Ireland. The report was leaked by his Italian superiors, who wished to be rid of the strident Capuchin, and caused uproar in the Irish church in exile. Moreover, O’Ferrall’s attack on the Stuart right to Ireland earned the papacy a sharp protest from the royalist court in the Low Countries, probably composed by Edward Hyde, later earl of Clarendon.8 Before 1658, O’Ferrall had lived at the cutting edge of the church militant.9 A Gaelic Irish nobleman who took the Capuchin habit late in life, he trained at Lille, Douai, and Charleville. O’Ferrall remained in France during the Ulster rebellion of 1641 and the foundation of the Catholic Confederation in 1642. He returned to Ireland in 1644, initially working to turn Ormond’s Catholic troops to the confederate side, and later becoming superior of the Capuchin convent at Galway. While at Galway, he joined the circle of GianBattista Rinuccini, arch- bishop and prince of Fermo, and nuncio apostolic to the confederate Catholics of Ireland.10 When Rinuccini excommunicated the supreme council of the confed- eration in 1648 for signing a ceasefire with the Irish Protestants, he sent O’Ferrall and other key servants to Rome to defend his actions. This was a role in which O’Ferrall excelled, and the Capuchin was quickly appointed expert witness to the congregation propaganda fide. When O’Ferrall fell from favour in 1658, he sought shelter under Rinuccini patronage in Florence where he composed the massive Commentarius Rinuccinianus with the help of his confrère Robert O’Connell. Finished in 1666, three years after O’Ferrall’s death, this manuscript Latin history of Rinuccini’s nunciature sought, through thousands of documents transcribed and translated from Rinuccini’s papers, to convince its reader that the nuncio had been right in the 1640s and his confederate opponents wrong. This was set in a remarkable new narrative of Irish history which united a vision of Gaelic Irish blood-purity with the most militant Tridentine Catholicism. O’Ferrall’s 1658 report was a preliminary sketch for the Commentarius. What exactly was this Irish kingdom described by O’Ferrall and disputed by Lynch? A kingdom was a political community whose ruler was distinguished 6 Com. Rin., V, pp. 485–504; Tjoelker and Campbell, ‘Richard O’Ferrall’s report to Propaganda fide’, pp. 7–61. 7 Throughout his works, John Lynch labelled the Gaelic Irish Old Irish, and called the Old English, who were his own people, Newer Irish (noviores Hiberni), to distinguish them from New Irish Protestants. 8 Com. Rin., V, p. 288. 9 For biography, see Corish, ‘Two contemporary historians’; Campbell, ‘Alithinologia’, pp. 46–91. 10 Tadhg Ó hAnnracháin, Catholic Reformation in Ireland: The mission of Rinuccini, 1645–1649 (Oxford, 2002). A R I S T O T E L I A N A N C I E N T C O N S T I T U T I O N 575 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core from other magistrates by his special relationship with God.11 As far as the English common law was concerned, Ireland had been a kingdom since the Irish parlia- ment passed the Kingship Act in June 1541.12 Before that the English kings had merely been lords of Ireland, which title they owed to Pope Adrian IV’s bull Laudabiliter of 1155. Adrian had charged King Henry II with the reform of the Irish church which he believed to be in a barbarous state, and with the church came the lordship. This story of papal grant, royal ecclesiastical responsibility, and English conquest became an essential part of Englishness in Ireland. Laudabiliter itself could be read in the Expugnatio Hibernica, composed by Gerald of Wales in the twelfth century and widely copied and read thereafter.13 Then, in its 1536–7 session, the Irish parliament recognized Henry VIII as supreme head of the Irish church. Thus, while the primary aim of the 1541 act seems to have been the reconciliation of the Gaelic Irish to Tudor government, it had the added purpose of excising that now-anomalous papal grant from Irish political culture.14 The ambitious intentions and strategies of the Tudor reform, of which the act was a part, were halted both by English political instability, insufficient war-making capacity, and the process of confessionalization among the Irish themselves.15 Nevertheless, the language and concepts of the most potent political ideology in Europe had been planted in Irish soil, and they flourished.16 This meant that both the Gaelic Irish and Old English, now Catholics, were faced with the monstrous problem that their king, who united in himself both the spiritual and the secular, was a heretic.17 The intersection of these concerns about church, kingdom, and king rendered O’Ferrall’s report explosive. All the more so, since the Capuchin evidently regarded Christian kingship as ultimately subordinate to papal power. In his account, 181 paramount Gaelic kings had governed Ireland since the arrival of the three sons of Mı́l in Ireland 2,500 years ago.18 St Patrick converted the island to the Catholic faith in 431, and became the first archbishop of Armagh and first primate of Ireland. O’Ferrall insisted that the succession of archbishops and pri- mates had continued unbroken to the present day, and that these primates ‘were 11 E. H. Kantorowicz, The king’s two bodies: a study in mediaeval political theology (2nd edn, Princeton, NJ, 1997), pp. 42–5, 318–22; Tim Harris, Restoration: Charles II and his kingdoms, 1660–1685 (London, 2005), p. 69. 12 Bradshaw, Irish constitutional revolution, pp. 231–42. 13 Robin Frame, ‘‘‘Les Engleys nées en Irlande’’: the English political identity in medieval Ireland’, Transactions of the Royal Historical Society, 6th ser., 3 (1993), pp. 83–104, at p. 98; Giraldus Cambrensis, Expugnatio Hibernica: the conquest of Ireland, ed. A. Scott and F. X. Martin (Dublin, 1978), pp. xxxiv–xl, 144–7; James Murray, Enforcing the English Reformation in Ireland: clerical resistance and political conflict in the diocese of Dublin, 1534–1590 (Cambridge, 2009), pp. 48–81. 14 Colm Lennon, Sixteenth-century Ireland: the incomplete conquest (Dublin, 1994), pp. 154–5. 15 Ciaran Brady, ‘The decline of the Irish kingdom’, in Mark Greengrass, ed., Conquest and coalesc- ence: the shaping of the state in early modern Europe (London, 1991), pp. 94–115. 16 Breandán Ó Buachalla, ‘James our true king: the ideology of Irish royalism in the seventeenth century’, in G. Boyce, R. Eccleshall, and V. Geoghegan, eds., Political thought in Ireland since the seventeenth century (London, 1993), pp. 1–35; idem, The crown of Ireland (Syracuse, NY, 2006). 17 For an account of this troubled relationship, see Aidan Clarke, The Old English in Ireland, 1625–1642 (2nd edn, Dublin, 2000). 18 Com. Rin., V, p. 486. 576 I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core established as arbiters of all business of greater importance by the kings, magnates, and clergy’.19 So Catholic were the Irish kings, and so devoted to the papacy, that they gladly paid Peter’s Pence, endowed churches, cathedrals and monasteries with most of their lands, and even in the end presented the royal crown to the pope.20 O’Ferrall then turned to the Laudabiliter question and the problem of English royal title to Ireland, devoting a long opaque paragraph to the circumstances in which Henry II came to possess Ireland.21 Without reminding his reader that the Irish crown was now the pope’s to grant, O’Ferrall first argued that Henry had requested the grant of the country under false pretences, as the Irish church had not fallen into paganism as a result of Viking raids and persecution. In fact, O’Ferrall wrote, the Irish church was firmly supported by its hierarchy and ornamented by a great many saints throughout the Twelfth Century. It was also obedient to Rome, and held a great reforming synod at Kells in 1152. O’Ferrall then moved uneasily and with some obfuscation to his second point, which was that such a papal grant could be of no effect because contrary to natural law, although he surrounded this allegation with a thick hedge of rhetorical questions and ungrammatical subjunctives.22 Even O’Ferrall, committed to the highest doctrines of papal power, could not tolerate the idea that the Irish church had been fundamentally, essentially damaged by the Viking invasions. O’Ferrall’s Latin recovered its usual blunt clarity in the next paragraph, as he treated the reigns of the medieval English kings over the Irish. Whether Laudabiliter was obtained under false pretences, or whether it was in fact a simple forgery, there could be no doubt that ‘the conditions that were expressed in it and accepted by Henry were violated by himself and his successors’, crushing Ireland’s ‘doctrine, holiness, and religion’.23 O’Ferrall went on to describe the English kings’ attacks on the Irish clergy, their demand that bishops surrender to them in temporalities, and their appointment of politique foreigners to the hierarchy.24 Henry VIII’s turn to heresy only put the final tyrannous seal on 400 years of illegitimate government. The title of the English kings was illegitimate both because they had broken the conditions of Laudabiliter, and because they had persecuted the church endangering the souls of the Irish people, which enabled the pope’s power to depose rulers. According to O’Ferrall, the Kingship Act 19 ‘et a Regibus, Magnatibus et Clero statuebantur arbitri omnium negotiorum majoris momenti’, ibid., p. 487. 20 Ibid., p. 487. O’Ferrall’s story of the presentation of the crown rested on a solid foundation, see Geoffrey Keating, Foras feasa ar Éirinn: the history of Ireland, ed. David Comyn and P. S. Dinneen (4 vols., London, 1902–14), III, pp. 6–7; Ó Buachalla, Crown of Ireland, pp. 18–41. 21 Lynch criticized O’Ferrall’s disorderly mass of arguments at this point, ‘argumentorum incon- ditam struem’, [Lynch], Supplementum, p. 23. 22 Com. Rin., V, p. 488. 23 ‘Conditiones autem in eo expressae et ab Henrico acceptatae, fuerunt ab eo et a successoribus violatae … ut in ea doctrinam, sanctitatem et Religionem tunc reflorescentem oppresserint’, ibid., p. 488. 24 Ibid., p. 489. A R I S T O T E L I A N A N C I E N T C O N S T I T U T I O N 577 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core of 1541 was not part of a sophisticated reform programme popular across all Irish elites, but rather a heretical king’s grab at church property, assisted by greedy Irishmen of English descent.25 O’Ferrall’s 1658 report was in fact a highly compressed synthesis of a large body of politically charged Irish history writing, composed by both Old English and Gaelic Irish authors. James Murray has argued that the Old English of Dublin made use of a historical-political argument based on Laudabiliter to resist Tudor religious reform in the late sixteenth century.26 Patrick Darcy’s Argument, printed in 1645, was a defence of the Old English medieval parliamentary tradition in the style of Sir Edward Coke.27 Breandán Ó Buachalla has described a historical-political tradition which included Conell Mageoghan’s Annals of Clonmacnoise written in 1627, Mı́chéal Ó Cléirigh’s Annála rı́oghachta Éireann com- piled between 1632 and 1636, and Geoffrey Keating’s Foras feasa ar Éirinn com- pleted about 1634.28 According to Ó Buachalla, all those authors were committed, to varying degrees, to the Stuart sovereignty of Ireland. Nevertheless, there was also a radical strand to this tradition which urged resistance to English monarchy on religious grounds. The most substantial representatives of this strand were Peter Lombard, later archbishop of Armagh, who addressed his De Hibernia insula commentarius to Pope Clement VIII in 1600, though it was not printed until 1632, and Conor O’Mahony, whose Disputatio apologetica was printed in 1645.29 Both of these works celebrated the Catholicity of the ancient Irish past, both insisted that the Laudabiliter contract was now void, and both renounced Protestant monarchy. O’Ferrall appears to have borrowed from them extensively, though he neglected Lombard’s interest in medieval prophecy, and did not repeat O’Mahony’s demand that every Protestant in Ireland be killed. Moreover, the Capuchin’s violent polemic against the Old English was his own innovation. 25 Ibid., p. 489; [Lynch], Alithinologia, pp. 22–4, 34. 26 Murray, Enforcing the English Reformation, pp. 48–81. 27 Patrick Darcy, An argument delivered by Patricke Darcy, esquire, by the expresse order of the House of Commons in the parliament of Ireland, 9 Junii, 1641 (Waterford, 1643); C. E. J. Caldicott, ed., ‘Patrick Darcy, an argument’, Camden Miscellany, 31 (1992), pp. 191–320, at pp. 213–19; Raymond Gillespie, Seventeenth- century Ireland: making Ireland modern (Dublin, 2006), pp. 134–6. 28 Ó Buachalla, Crown of Ireland. John Lynch translated Keating into Latin, and O’Ferrall possessed a copy of that translation, see Bernadette Cunningham, The world of Geoffrey Keating: history, myth and religion in seventeenth-century Ireland (2nd edn, Dublin, 2004), pp. 187–9. 29 Peter Lombard, De regno Hiberniae commentarius (Louvain, 1632); Thomas O’Connor, ‘A justifi- cation for foreign intervention in early modern Ireland: Peter Lombard’s Commentarius (1600)’, in idem and Mary Ann Lyons, eds., Irish migrants in Europe after Kinsale, 1602–1820 (Dublin, 2003), pp. 14–31; [Conor O’Mahony], Disputatio apologetica de iure regni Hiberniae pro Catholicis Hibernis adversus haereticos Anglos ([Lisbon], 1645); Tadhg Ó hAnnracháin, ‘Hereticks and politicians’; Lynch devoted the twenty- third chapter of his Cambrensis, first published pseudonymously as Gratianus Lucius, Cambrensis eversus ([St Malo], 1662), to refuting O’Mahony, see John Lynch, Cambrensis eversus, ed. Matthew Kelly (3 vols., Dublin, 1848–52), III, pp. 32–143 (all subsequent references are to Kelly’s edition). 578 I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core I I In his rapid survey of the early modern Irish political histories, Colin Kidd argued that the ‘ancient Milesian constitution’ and the English ancient constitution were different species of the same genus.30 This is indeed the case: the dominant element of O’Ferrall’s treatment of the ancient Irish kingdom and kingship was that very antiquity itself; Ireland’s political constitution in the distant past, O’Ferrall believed, indicated the country’s proper constitution for the present and future. Ever since J. G. A. Pocock’s seminal work in the 1950s this variety of political discourse has been labelled the ‘ancient constitution’.31 According to Pocock, many seventeenth-century Europeans argued that the particular rights and privileges which they wished to defend from their kings were immemorial and so immune from royal meddling. Pocock argued that the influence of Roman law tended to cause the continental representatives of this discourse to discard the role of custom in the making of their ancient constitutions, and instead to argue that these constitutions were founded by a particular lawgiver in the distant past. Moreover, these continental ancient constitutions were under constant threat from the new lawyers expertly trained in the humanities to spot cherished, sup- posedly ancient, foundation texts as relatively modern forgeries.32 England, where Roman law was less important, was different. The English common law was not made, as Sir John Davies said, by any Solon or Lycurgus, but by custom.33 By this paradox, that the English common law was both immemorial and constantly adapting to local circumstances, the English ancient constitution was made far more durable than its continental cousins.34 But why did the English not spot the suspect nature of the old texts, like the Modus tenendi Parliamentum, which Sir Edward Coke and others adduced in their arguments? Pocock’s solution to both the problem of the dominance of custom, and the English disinclination to apply Roman law principles or humanist scholarship to the old texts, was to posit a mentalité called the ‘common law mind’. He asserted that the common law was such a powerful force in English political, social, and intellectual life that some technical elements of the law, such as the principle of prescription, became part of the unspoken assumptions of the English elite. It was the principle of prescription, by which an old custom became a right, that accounted for the success of arguments for ancient limits on the crown: it was so then and thus should be so now.35 The common law mind is not a convincing explanation of the nature of ancient constitution discourse in the three kingdoms. It is most unlikely that the Capuchin 30 However, the reading of John Lynch’s work offered below will be entirely different to Kidd’s, see Colin Kidd, British identities before nationalism: ethnicity and nationhood in the Atlantic world 1600–1800 (Cambridge, 1999), pp. 153–8. 31 J. G. A. Pocock, The ancient constitution and the feudal law: a study of English historical thought in the seventeenth century (2nd edn., Cambridge, 1987). 32 Pocock, Ancient constitution, pp. 16–21; R. J. Smith, The Gothic bequest: medieval institutions in British thought, 1688–1863 (Cambridge, 1987), pp. 3–4. 33 Pocock, Ancient constitution, p. 41. 34 Ibid., pp. 30–1, 274–5. 35 Ibid., pp. 30–55; Greenberg, Radical face, pp. 17–26. A R I S T O T E L I A N A N C I E N T C O N S T I T U T I O N 579 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core friar Richard O’Ferrall shared this common law mentalité with Sir Edward Coke. Moreover, O’Ferrall, as a successful courtier, would not have presented to a group of Italian cardinals an argument which was fundamentally foreign to them. One solution would be to argue that O’Ferrall was writing his ancient consti- tution in a continental style, rather than an English one. After the manner of the Roman law, one could say, O’Ferrall provided lawgivers for the Irish kingdom in the person of the three Milesian brothers, and a founder figure for the Irish church in St Patrick. In this way analysis of O’Ferrall would remain within Pocock’s original categories. However, all of Pocock’s original categories have been brought into question by Janelle Greenberg’s recent work. Greenberg has questioned the supposed major differences between English and continental ancient constitutions. She has emphasized the plasticity of the ancient constitution, invoked by English radicals as well as conservatives.36 She has demonstrated that the common law was in fact generally considered to have a founder figure, just like continental ancient con- stitutions: St Edward the Confessor.37 And she has established, against Glen Burgess, that ancient constitution discourse was not inimical to contract theory. English radicals imagined a contract between king and people in the distant past, just as O’Ferrall imagined one between king and pope.38 O’Ferrall’s ancient constitution was not structurally different to those composed by English authors. With Greenberg’s arguments in mind, it makes sense to revisit an old argument against Pocock for a single Aristotelian mentalité underlying all ancient constitution discourse. Zachary Schiffman pioneered this explanation in the 1980s.39 Schiffman was mainly interested in sixteenth-century French lawyers and historians and was unconvinced by Pocock’s account of their proto-modern historical consciousness. He insisted on the importance to the ancient constitution of Aristotle’s division of all substance into essence and accidents. The accidents of a thing could be changed or destroyed without changing the nature of the thing; rather essence was what made a thing all that it was.40 36 Greenberg, Radical face, pp. 15–16, 116. Note also that Greenberg saw the ancient constitution playing an important role in English political discourse as late as the Glorious Revolution, ibid., pp. 243–96. 37 Ibid., pp. 4–5, 48–50. 38 Ibid., pp. 21–7. 39 Z. S. Schiffman, ‘Renaissance historicism reconsidered’, History and Theory, 24 (1985), pp. 170–82; idem, ‘Etienne Pasquier and the problem of historical relativism’, Sixteenth Century Journal, 18 (1987), pp. 505–17; idem, ‘An anatomy of the historical revolution in Renaissance France’, Renaissance Quarterly, 42 (1989), pp. 507–33. 40 ‘A definition is an account which specifies the essence’, Aristotle, Topica, 101b38; translation from Christopher Shields, Aristotle (London, 2007), p. 99; idem, Topics, books I and VIII, trans. Robin Smith (Oxford, 1997), p. 4; Aristotle, ‘Topicarum’, in idem, Opera omnia quae extent, Graecé & Latiné. Veterum ac recentiorum interpretum, ut Adriani Turnebi, Isaaci Casauboni, Iulij Pacij studio emendatißima … Authore Guillelmo Du Val (2 vols., Paris, 1619), bk I, ch. 5, vol. I, p. 182. This widely used edition had its origins in the French reaction against Petrus Ramus’s anti-Aristotelianism, see J. Glucker, ‘Casaubon’s Aristotle’, Classica et Mediaevalia, 25 (1964), pp. 274–96. 580 I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core Drawing on the work of Friedrich Meinecke, Schiffman argued that this Aristotelian metaphysics underlay the way that medieval and early modern Europeans thought, argued, and wrote about the past.41 Aristotelian historical consciousness was a process of Entfaltung: the institution or nation unfolded in a predetermined form according to its essence.42 For medieval and early modern people history was a teleological process in which the potential or essence of a thing became clearer over time. Early modern humanists did indeed have critical tools which they could apply to detect anachronism in texts, but these tools were used mainly to help them to determine the essences of historical entities, such as the Irish church or kingdom. The potential of such an institution was established at its first foundation, usually by the founder figure, whether St Patrick or the three Milesian brothers. Sometimes a process of degeneration would occur, in which that essence or potential decayed. Writing history meant discovering the unchanging essence of a thing, depicting the unfolding of this essence over time and sometimes, in cases of decay, calling for a return to original purity. In con- trast, Meinecke argued, modern historical consciousness, or historicism, left Aristotelianism behind and depended on the concept of Entwicklung, or evolution, in which an institution or a nation would move from one state of being to another, depending on its interaction with its environment.43 Schiffman’s approach thus helped to resolve two serious criticisms of Pocock’s thesis. Pocock argued that sixteenth-century French intellectuals possessed a historical consciousness much more modern than the common law mind of contemporary Englishmen.44 In fact, as J. H. M. Salmon established, while the French legal humanists possessed sophisticated critical methods which they applied to ancient documents in order to detect anachronistic language and date documents more accurately, these methods were used to discover and depict the essence of existing institutions, such as parlement, the Gallican church, or the crown.45 Pocock, Donald Kelley, and others confused the presence of modern historical method with modern historical consciousness. Secondly, Christopher 41 Friedrich Meinecke, Die Entstehung des Historismus (Munich, 1959); idem, Historism: the rise of a new historical outlook, trans. J. E. Anderson (London, 1972). For criticism, see P. H. Reill, The German Enlightenment and the rise of historicism (Berkeley, CA, and London, 1975); Allan Megill, ‘Aesthetic theory and historical consciousness in the eighteenth century’, History and Theory, 17 (1978), pp. 29–62; Paul Hamilton, Historicism (2nd edn, London, 2003). Greenberg approached this explanation, see Greenberg, Radical face, pp. 32–4. 42 Schiffman, ‘Renaissance historicism reconsidered’, pp. 172–3, 182. 43 Meinecke saw crucial evidence of this modern consciousness in the work of J. G. Herder, see Schiffman, ‘Renaissance historicism reconsidered’, pp. 172–3, 182; Meinecke, Historism, pp. 295–372. 44 Pocock, Ancient constitution, pp. 4–11. Pocock was more cautious than Kelley in attributing a modern historical consciousness to the French humanists. 45 Kelley had argued that modern historical consciousness emerged from the interpretative prac- tices of sixteenth-century French humanist lawyers, see D. R. Kelley, Foundations of modern historical scholarship: language, law, and history in the French Renaissance (New York, NY, 1970). For criticism, see J. H. M. Salmon, ‘Clovis and Constantine: the uses of history in sixteenth-century Gallicanism’, Journal of Ecclesiastical History, 41 (1990), pp. 584–605. For Kelley’s response, see D. R. Kelley, Faces of history: historical inquiry from Herodotus to Herder (London, 1998), pp. 245–6, 266–8. A R I S T O T E L I A N A N C I E N T C O N S T I T U T I O N 581 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core Brooks, Kevin Sharpe, and Hans Pawlisch have argued that Pocock’s account of an English legal profession so dominated by the common law mind that they chose to have nothing to do with continental legal theory was inaccurate. English lawyers frequently resorted to continental theory and indeed Roman law.46 All of these criticisms of Pocock’s thesis can be brought together into a new synthesis by turning to Aristotelianism. When Pocock wrote in the 1950s much less was known about the extraordinary range, strength, and longevity of the Aristotelian tradition in the universities. While the old university sciences were under pressure during this period, it was not until the later seventeenth century that the new sciences began to constitute a practical pedagogical replacement for Aristotle’s works, and this was true in both Catholic and Protestant Europe.47 Indeed, Christopher Brooks has insisted that scholastic Aristotelianism provided an elementary theoretical foundation for all writing on the common law and other laws in England.48 This latter point has been illustrated at length by J. W. Tubbs, who resorted continually to Aristotelianism in order to explain the writings of sixteenth- and seventeenth-century common lawyers.49 Sir John Davies was educated at Oxford as well as at Middle Temple, and Sir Edward Coke, who spent more than three years at Cambridge, recommended the liberal arts in general and Aristotelian logic in particular to all students of the common law.50 John Lynch and Richard O’Ferrall would have found Aristotelianism impossible to escape at their French colleges and seminaries.51 The same can be said of the education of Scots like John Mair, Hector Boece, George Buchanan, and 46 D. R. Kelley, ‘History, English law and the Renaissance’, Past and Present, 65 (1974), pp. 24–51; Christopher Brooks and Kevin Sharpe, ‘History, English law and the Renaissance’; D. R. Kelley, ‘A rejoinder’, Past and Present, 72 (1976), pp. 133–42, 143–6; H. S. Pawlisch, Sir John Davies and the conquest of Ireland (Cambridge, 1985), pp. 161–75. 47 C. B. Schmitt, ‘Philosophy and science in sixteenth-century universities: some preliminary comments’, in idem, Studies in Renaissance philosophy and science (London, 1981), pp. 485–530, at pp. 489, 91–2; idem, John Case and Aristotelianism in Renaissance England (Montreal, 1983), pp. 13–76; idem, The Aristotelian tradition and Renaissance universities (London, 1984); idem, Aristotle and the Renaissance (Cambridge, MA, 1983); Mordechai Feingold, ‘Aristotle and the English universities in the seven- teenth century: a re-evaluation’, in Helga Robinson-Hammerstein, ed., European universities in the age of Reformation and Counter-Reformation (Dublin, 1998), pp. 135–48. 48 C. W. Brooks, ‘The place of Magna Carta and the ancient constitution in sixteenth century English legal thought’, in Ellis Sandoz, ed., The roots of liberty: Magna Carta, ancient constitution, and the Anglo-American tradition of rule of law (Columbia, MO, 1993), pp. 57–88, at pp. 59–62. 49 J. W. Tubbs, The common law mind: medieval and early modern conceptions (Baltimore, MD, 2000), pp. 46–52, 71–2, 80–2, 93, 167–78. 50 Pawlisch, Sir John Davies, pp. 16, 22; Tubbs, Common law mind, pp. 170–1. Coke owned Aristotle in Greek, Latin, French, and English, see W. O. Hassall, A catalogue of the library of Sir Edward Coke (New Haven, CT, 1950), pp. 59–60, 61; Brooks, ‘Magna Carta and the ancient constitution’, pp. 60–3. 51 Richard Tuck, ‘The institutional setting’, in Daniel Garber and Michael Ayers, eds., The Cambridge history of seventeenth-century philosophy (2 vols., Cambridge, 1998), I, pp. 9–32, at pp. 18–19; L. W. B. Brockliss, French higher education in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries: a cultural history (Oxford, 1987); Liam Chambers, ‘Defying Descartes: Michael Moore (1639–1726) and Aristotelian philosophy in France and Ireland’, in Michael Brown and S. H. Harrison, eds., The medieval world and the modern mind (Dublin, 2001), pp. 11–26; idem, Michael Moore, c.1639–1726: provost of Trinity, rector of Paris (Dublin, 2005). 582 I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core Sir George Mackenzie who wrote for and against their own nation’s ancient constitution.52 The European elite’s shared education in Aristotelian metaphysics explains why ancient constitution discourse occurred all over Europe. When political writers sought to defend or attack particular institutions, such as kingdoms, courts, or churches, it seemed reasonable to them to search that institution’s past for indications of its essence. In fact, in order to prove that the essence of an institution was as it was claimed, one would have to demonstrate that it had remained constant throughout the existence of the institution. That essence, having been discovered, could be exposed to praise or blame. Richard O’Ferrall claimed that the essence of the Irish kingdom lay in its reverence for the church and the papacy, which was epitomized by the nation’s gift of the crown to the pope in 1063.53 Moreover, supposing underlying Aristotelian structures to this discourse pro- vides an explanation for Pocock’s distinction between French founder-figure an- cient constitutions and English customary ancient constitutions. The answer lies in Aristotle’s theory of causation, which was vital to all the Aristotelian sciences even after Descartes and Locke offered workable alternatives.54 Aristotle argued that all things or entities were made by four causes: the material (that from which an entity came to be), formal (the shape or structure of the entity), efficient (the agent imposing that shape), and final (the purpose of the entity).55 In the case of a bronze sculpture of Achilles, the material cause would be bronze, the formal cause would be human shape, the efficient cause would be the sculptor himself, and the final cause would be to honour the dead hero. Richard O’Ferrall pro- vided all of these four causes in his account of the Irish church. The material cause of the Irish church was the Irish people led by the hierarchy of bishops, archbishops, and primate. The formal cause of the Irish church was the mystical body of Christ, or the Roman and apostolic church.56 The efficient cause was the missionary St Patrick. The final cause was the salvation of the Irish people. The efficient cause of the kingdom of Ireland, subordinate to the church in O’Ferrall’s account, was the three Milesian brothers. For many English writers, as Greenberg 52 Burns, True law of kingship, pp. 54–93, 185–221; A. H. Williamson, Scottish national consciousness in the age of James VI: the apocalypse, the Union, and the shaping of Scotland’s public culture (Edinburgh, 1979), pp. 97–132; Kidd, British identities before nationalism, pp. 123–45. 53 John Locke’s innovative, anti-Aristotelian account of essence might account for his antipathy to the ancient constitution, see E. J. Lowe, Locke on human understanding (London, 1995), pp. 67–91. 54 For Schiffman’s treatment of the four causes, see Schiffman, ‘Anatomy of the historical revol- ution’, pp. 517–9. 55 Shields, Aristotle, pp. 40–97; Vasilis Politis, Aristotle and the Metaphysics (London, 2004), pp. 50–63. Aristotle, Physica, 194b23–35; idem, Physics, books I and II, trans. William Charlton (Oxford, 1970), pp. 28–9; idem, ‘De naturalibus principiis’, in Opera omnia, bk II, ch. 3, vol. I, p. 330. 56 Aristotle wrote that in the case of a human being, the body was the material cause, and soul the formal. On this see Shields, Aristotle, pp. 278–85; Aristotle, De anima, 415b8–415b21; idem, De anima books II and III, trans. D. W. Hamlyn (Oxford, 1993), pp. 18–19; idem, ‘De anima’, in Opera omnia, bk II, ch. 4, vol. I, pp. 634–5. A R I S T O T E L I A N A N C I E N T C O N S T I T U T I O N 583 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core has explained, the efficient cause of the English law was St Edward the Confessor.57 When Sir John Davies, attorney general for Ireland from 1606 to 1619, wrote, in his Irish law reports, that the English law had no founder figure like Solon for Athenian law or Lycurgus for Spartan, and that it was made instead by custom, he was not arguing for the autonomy of the law at all. It is clear from Hans Pawlisch’s work on Davies that what Davies meant by custom was the law made by his own judges, which was to be used to undermine the statute law of the Irish parliament.58 Davies’s purpose, and his anti-Aristotelian position, will be explained below. I I I The proposition that ancient constitution discourse was fundamentally Aristotelian is reinforced by use of anti-Aristotelian ideology against O’Ferrall by his most important contemporary opponent. John Lynch was born in Galway about 1600, educated first in the town’s Jesuit grammar school, and then at a series of both Jesuit and Oratorian colleges in France and the Low Countries, including Dieppe, Douai, and Rouen. Returning to Ireland in 1625, Lynch was appointed archdeacon of Tuam and chaplain to Sir Richard Blake, probably the richest of Galway’s Catholic merchants. Lynch continued to live in Galway through the wars of the 1640s, Oliver Cromwell’s arrival in Ireland in 1649, and the town’s surrender to the parliamentarians in 1652. Expelled by the new regime, the archdeacon fled first to Nantes before settling at St Malo and finding new patrons among the local nobility.59 Over a ten-year period at St Malo, Lynch saw four substantial Latin works on Irish history through the press, and left another two long works in manuscript at his death in 1677.60 Lynch and O’Ferrall had been friends in Galway, but the archdeacon’s response to the friar’s declaration against the Stuarts was unforgiving. Lynch vehemently defended both the Old English churchmen attacked in the report, and also the Stuart right to Ireland, in an anonymous Latin answer to O’Ferrall 57 Greenberg, Radical face, pp. 4–5. 58 Sir John Davies, Le primer report des cases in les courts del roy (Dublin, 1615), sig. 3r; Pawlisch, Sir John Davies, p. 12. 59 Nollaig Ó Muraı́le, ‘Aspects of the intellectual life of seventeenth-century Galway’, in Gerard Moran and Raymond Gillespie, eds., Galway: history and society (Dublin, 1996), pp. 149–210; René D’Ambrières and Éamon Ó Ciosáin, ‘John Lynch of Galway (c. 1599–1677): his career, exile and writing’, Journal of the Galway Archaeological and Historical Society, 55 (2003), pp. 50–63; Campbell, ‘Alithinologia’, pp. 38–45. 60 [Lynch], Cambrensis eversus (1662); idem, Alithinologia (1664); idem, Supplementum alithinologiae (1667); John Lynch, Pii antistitis icon (St Malo, 1669); idem ‘De Praesulibus Hiberniae potissimis Catholicae religionis in Hibernia serendae, propagandae, et conservandae authoribus’, Bibliothèque Mazarine, Paris, MS 1869. Lynch’s translation of Keating’s Foras feasa was ‘Historia rerum Hibernicarum ab orbis et gentis incvnabvlis ad Hiberniam Anglorum ditioni svbiectam’, Royal Irish Academy, Dublin, MS 24 I 5. 584 I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core in 1664, entitled Alithinologia, or true response, and in a further refutation in 1667 entitled Supplementum Alithinologiae, or reinforcement to the true response. Lynch’s two books insisted that O’Ferrall had lied and misrepresented facts in his 1658 report, and in this way Lynch hoped to smother the longer work which he knew the Capuchin was writing.61 However, the real basis of Lynch’s response to O’Ferrall lay not in a piecemeal refutation of the Capuchin’s ancient Irish con- stitution, but in a theory of sovereignty devised by Jean Bodin and applied to Irish affairs by Sir John Davies. Bodin designed a system for interpreting the powers of governments that would destroy arguments for the limitation of royal power similar to those deployed by Richard O’Ferrall. Bodin’s theory of sover- eignty, as interpreted by Davies, was taken up by Lynch in the Cambrensis Eversus, Alithinologia, and Supplementum. Jean Bodin was sixteenth-century France’s most brilliant intellectual, and his life from 1562 until his death in 1596 was lived in the midst of religious and civil war.62 During the 1560s and 1570s, both Huguenot and Catholic political writers argued that the kingdom of France was composed of an Aristotelian mixture of monarchy, aristocracy, and democracy. King, nobility, and people governed in co-operative harmony. This fact could be demonstrated, they argued, by tracing the essence of French government back to the assemblies of the Franks and their elected kings.63 The epitome of this doctrine was François Hotman’s Francogallia, first published in 1573.64 Bodin took up a position in defence of strong monarchy and attacked his opponents’ arguments not just by questioning their French history (though he did that in his 1576 Six livres de la république) but by attacking the whole concept of Aristotelian mixed government itself, a project he began in 1566 in the Methodus ad facilem historiarum cognitionem.65 Bodin demolished the concept of Aristotelian mixed government with the fol- lowing argument. The most important thing that could be known about any state was where within it sovereignty lay. Sovereignty was made up of five functions: creating magistrates and defining their offices, proclaiming and annulling laws, making war and peace, receiving final appeal from magistrates, and granting pardons to the condemned.66 When these five functions, or marks, were held by 61 [Lynch], Supplementum, pp. 1–3. 62 For a brief biography, see Jean Bodin, On sovereignty: four chapters from the six books of the commonwealth, ed. J. H. Franklin (Cambridge, 1992), pp. ix–xii. For bibliography, see Marie-Dominique Couzinet, Jean Bodin (Rome, 2001). For key articles in English, see J. H. Franklin, ed., Jean Bodin (Aldershot, 2006). 63 François Hotman, Francogallia, ed. R. E. Giesey and J. H. M. Salmon (Cambridge, 1972), pp. 39–40, 91, 107–9. 64 For the classical mixed government of Plato, Aristotle, Polybius, and Cicero, see Hotman, Francogallia, pp. 292–6. For the Frankish ancient constitution which conformed to this model, see ibid., pp. 322–3. For contemporary readings of the Francogallia which saw its political purpose, see ibid., pp. 72–3. 65 For the broader anti-Aristotelian movement, see Richard Tuck, Philosophy and government, 1572–1651 (Cambridge, 1993), pp. 22–30. 66 Jean Bodin, Methodus, ad facilem historiarum cognitionem (Paris, 1583), p. 170; idem, Method for the easy comprehension of history, trans. Beatrice Reynolds (New York, NY, 1969), pp. 172–3. A R I S T O T E L I A N A N C I E N T C O N S T I T U T I O N 585 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core the king, then that state was a monarchy, when they were held by the nobility the state was an aristocracy, and when the people held the five marks it was a democracy.67 Outside the fantasies of Plato, Aristotle, Polybius, and Cicero, mixed government did not exist. If the five marks became separated the result was not mixed government but the dissolution of the state.68 Thus, Bodin con- tinued disingenuously, those ‘serious and learned men’ who would prefer France to be a mixed government were really arguing for either aristocracy or democ- racy.69 Both of those latter types of government were imperfect because they involved some sharing of sovereignty.70 Bodin’s doctrine of sovereignty allowed him to claim that the only real choice in government was between pure monarchy and several varieties of democracy, a form of government widely despised. Moreover, there was no place in this new political metaphysics for the ancient constitution. This ferocious attack on Aristotle, and indeed the whole classical political tradition, was contained in condensed form in the Methodus (though it was the longest section in the book) and ten years later Bodin expanded the argument into the République, which he intended to replace Aristotle’s Politics.71 Combined with Bodin’s highly unorthodox religious views, this attack on Aristotelian science was enough to have his work placed in the Roman index of forbidden books in 1590.72 Nevertheless, both the Methodus and the République enjoyed great popularity across both Catholic and Protestant Europe. The République became well known in England before the death of Elizabeth, and was a standard text on politics in the reign of James I.73 Sir John Davies, attorney general for Ireland from 1606 to 1619, founded his Discoverie of the trve cavses why Ireland was neuer entirely subdued, nor brought vnder obedience of the crowne of England, vntill the beginning of his maiesties happie raigne on Bodin’s 67 Bodin, Methodus, pp. 176–7; idem, Method, pp. 178–9. 68 Bodin, On sovereignty, bk I, ch. 10, pp. 71–2. I have consulted, Jean Bodin, Les six livres de la republiqve (Paris, 1577), key chapters are numbered differently in this edition, so that the reference is bk I, ch. 11, pp. 206–7. Richard Knolles’s 1606 translation conflated the 1593 French edition and Bodin’s 1586 Latin version, and omitted some of Bodin’s criticisms of Aristotle, see Jean Bodin, The six bookes of a commonweale: a facsimile reprint of the English translation of 1606, ed. K. D. McRae (Cambridge, MA, 1962). 69 ‘graues & eruditi viri’, Bodin, Methodus, pp. 272–3; idem, Method, p. 267. 70 Bodin, Methodus, pp. 275–7; idem, Method, pp. 269–71. 71 Bodin, Six bookes of a commonweale, pp. A24–A28; K. D. McRae, ‘Ramist tendencies in the thought of Jean Bodin’, Journal of the History of Ideas, 16 (1955), pp. 306–23. Bodin’s natural philosophy was similarly anti-Aristotelian, see Ann Blair, The theatre of nature: Jean Bodin and Renaissance science (Princeton, NJ, 1992), pp. 3, 6. 72 Bodin, Method, p. xxviii; J. P. Donnelly, ‘Antonio Possevino as papalist critic of French political writers’, in Jerome Friedman, ed., Regnum religio et ratio: essays presented to R. M. Kingdom (Kirksville, MS, 1987), pp. 31–9. 73 Bodin, Six bookes of a commonweale, pp. A62–A66; G. L. Moss, ‘The influence of Jean Bodin’s République on English political thought’, Medievalia et Humanistica, 5 (1948), pp. 73–83; U. Krautheim, Die souveränitätskonzeption in den englischen verfassungskonflikten des 17. jahrhunderts; eine studie zur rezeption der lehre Bodins in England (Frankfurt am Main, 1977), pp. 44–69. 586 I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core sovereignty theory.74 The Discoverie was an explanation of the nature of the relationship of the English crown to Ireland between the reigns of Henry II and James I, an analysis of the nature of King James’s title to the country, and a programme for Ireland’s future government. The Discoverie wiped the eleventh- century conquest, and kingship act of 1541, off the Irish constitutional map; associated with it was Davies’s speech at the 1613 parliament which attacked the legitimacy of the medieval Irish parliaments, and his Irish law reports which exalted judge-made law over statute law.75 The Discoverie was part of a general attack on the political heritage of the Old English as it stood in 1612. The Gaelic Irish had been defeated in the Nine Years War; now Davies meant to bring the Old English to heel. The main line of argument in the Discoverie began with Davies’s definition of a complete conquest: ‘For, that I call a Perfect Conquest of a Country, which doth reduce all the people thereof to the Condition of Subiects: and those I call Subiects, which are gouerned by the ordinary Lawes and Magistrates of the Souveraigne.’76 Moreover, Davies continued, though a prince might call himself a sovereign, nevertheless if there were two-thirds of the country in which crimes could not be punished, unless by an army, to which the jurisdiction of the courts of law did not extend, and from which he received no revenue, escheats, or forfeitures, then no perfect conquest of the country had been made. Bodin’s functions or marks of sovereignty underlay this argument, and Davies’s debt to the French legist became clearer as he went on. Under this definition of conquest, the supposed conquest of Ireland by Henry II, ‘so much spoken of, by so many Writers’, did not in reality happen. Ireland was never conquered until the reign of King James VI and I. The Gaelic Irish kings, and Davies noted that they were described as kings in government documents, merely promised to become ‘tributaries’ to Henry II: And such as pay onely Tribute, though they bee placed by Bodin, in the first degree of subiection, are not properlie Subiects but Soueraignes. For, though they bee lesse and inferiour vnto the Prince to whom they pay Tribute, yet they hold all other pointes of Soueraignty.77 74 For biography, see Pawlisch, Sir John Davies, pp. 15–33; Sir John Davies, Discoverie of the trve cavses why Ireland was neuer entirely subdued, nor brought vnder obedience of the crowne of England, vntill the beginning of his maiesties happie raigne (London, 1612). I have used the facsimile edition, John Davies, Discovery of the true causes why Ireland was never entirely subdued, ed. John Barry (Shannon, 1969). 75 Davies, Le primer report; idem, Historical tracts: consisting of I: a discovery of the true causes … 4: a speech to the lord deputy in 1613, tracing the ancient constitution of Ireland (Dublin, 1787); Tadhg Ó hAnnracháin, ‘Imagining political representation in seventeenth-century Ireland’, in idem and Robert Armstrong, eds., Community in early modern Ireland (Dublin, 2006), pp. 34–50. Pawlisch’s excellent book tackled the law reports alone and had little to say about the Discoverie and Bodin, see Pawlisch, Sir John Davies, pp. 3–14, 31–2, 59–64. Davies took the same high view of the king’s powers in some of his work on England, for example see John Davies, The question concerning impostions (London, 1656). 76 Davies, Discovery, pp. 6–7. 77 For the Irish kings after the supposed conquest, ibid., pp. 15–18. For quotation, see ibid., p. 14. In the left margin, Davies cited ‘Bodin de Repub.’, which referred to bk I, ch. 9, where Bodin dis- tinguished six degrees of dependence: ‘Le premier est le Prince tributaire, qui est moindre au traité, A R I S T O T E L I A N A N C I E N T C O N S T I T U T I O N 587 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core Davies then went on to explain precisely what those ‘true markes and differences’ of sovereignty were, and who possessed them: For, to giue Lawes vnto a people, to institute Magistrates and Officers ouer them, to punish and pardon Malefactors, to haue the sole authority of making warre and peace, and the like are the true markes of Soueraignetie; which King Henry the second had not in the Irish Countreyes, but the Irish Lords did still retaine all these prerogatiues to themselues.78 Not only did the Irish lords display these marks of sovereignty, but even the English lords of Ireland made war and peace ‘without direction from the State’.79 From this firm Bodinian foundation, Davies proceeded to argue that this state of affairs had continued from the reign of Henry II to that of Queen Elizabeth I. During her reign a final and perfect military conquest was made, quickly followed under King James by a civil conquest, in which English laws were given to the Irish.80 Unlike Davies, John Lynch regarded both the laws of the ancient Irish law tracts, and those of the medieval Irish parliaments, as admirable in their own way.81 Nevertheless, Lynch wholeheartedly embraced the rest of Davies’s analy- sis, and it was fundamental to his argument in the Alithinologia, Supplementum, and Cambrensis eversus. In the Alithinologia, Lynch agreed with his Capuchin opponent that the bulls of Pope Adrian IV and Alexander III conferring Ireland on King Henry II were either obtained through fraud (and thus invalid) or simply forged.82 Nevertheless, he denied that this detracted in any way from the Stuart kings’ ius or right in Ireland, ‘since successive kings have held the sovereignty of Ireland by means of arms, the ratification of the Irish, and duration of time, just as by a triple cord’.83 Lynch declined to spend much time explaining the claim of the crown to dominate by arms, which he took to be obvious: Indeed, John Davies testifies that the magnates of Ireland submitted four times to the kings of England; first to Henry II, next to King John, then Richard II, last to Henry VIII; and the indentures of the penultimate submission are still extent in the royal archive at London, of the ultimate one in the book of the Irish council: and he adds that many lords indi- vidually made their profession of obedience to various viceroys.84 que celuy auquel il doit tribut: & neantmoins il retient tout droit de souueraineté, sans autre sub- mission à celuy auquel le tribut est payé. Et combien qu’il semble estre plus greué, que celuy qui est en protection, si est-ce qu’en effect il est plus grand: car en payant le tribut qu’il a promis pour auoir la paix, il est quite, & n’a que faire d’autrui pour defendre son estat.’ Bodin, Les six livres de la republiqve, bk I, ch. 10, p. 155. In the 1586 Latin edition and the 1606 English edition there are nine degrees of subjection, so it would seem Davies read Bodin in French, Bodin, Six bookes of a commonweale, p. 115. 78 Davies, Discovery, p. 15. 79 Ibid., pp. 26, 147. 80 Ibid., pp. 107–17. 81 Lynch, Cambrensis eversus, II, pp. 362–87. 82 [Lynch], Alithinologia, p. 26. 83 ‘Cum quidem secuti Reges supremam Hiberniae potestatem, armis, Hibernorum ratihabitione, ac temporis diuturnitate tanquam funiculo triplici, aliisque vinculis constrictam tenuerint’, [Lynch], Alithinologia, p. 26. 84 ‘Hiberniae vero magnates vniversim quater Angliae Regibus fasces submisisse; primùm Henrico II, deinde Ioanni Regi, tum Richardo II, denique Henrico VIII; & penultimae submissionis syn- graphas in memoriarum Regis officinâ Londini, vltimae, in Hiberniae Concilij libro etiamnum extare 588 I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core In the left margin, Lynch fastidiously cited the relevant page numbers of Davies’s 1612 text.85 Lynch then pointed out that this domination had been recognized de facto by the papacy since the time of Henry II, referring to Popes Innocent III, Honorius III, Benedict XII, Innocent VIII, all of which was confirmed by Paul IV in 1555 when he proclaimed King Philip and Queen Mary and their successors kings of Ireland.86 Lynch then returned to the attorney-general’s radical con- cession: ‘For all that, Davies demonstrates splendidly in his published book that the Irish were not brought to a whole and absolute subjection, in all their num- bers, before King James.’87 Lynch then departed from Davies, however, to make use of what Johann Sommerville has labelled a designation theory of kingship. Many strong-monarchy writers, including English royalists, admitted, with the Jesuit Francisco Suárez, that popular acclamation strengthened a king’s claim to kingship, but insisted that that act of acclamation need occur only once, and also insisted, against Suárez, that the acclamation could never be revoked.88 The people designated the ruler, but God granted him power, independent of any grant of the people. According to Lynch, this act of designation by the people occurred in the 1613 parliament held at Dublin: Then indeed, the consent of no people ever showed itself in choosing a king for themselves so explicitly, as that of the Irish in acknowledging James as their king. All the more honourable inhabitants of each county, as is their custom, came together at the place and time appointed by the viceroy in the year of our Lord 1613, and they elected two men of their number as representatives, who should vote on their behalf in the lower chamber of parliament.89 This was a remarkable celebration of a parliament packed by the crown by force and fraud with Protestants, which had been deplored by contemporary Catholic writers.90 Nevertheless, because of the confiscation of Catholic estates in the 1650s the medieval parliamentary tradition was no longer of any use to Lynch and his contemporaries; royal power alone could save the Old English elite.91 Having Ioannes Dauisius testatur: Additque pleroque proceres suae subjectionis professionem apud varios Proreges sigillatim fecisse’, [Lynch], Alithinologia, p. 26. 85 Ibid., p. 26. 86 Ibid., p. 28. 87 ‘Dauisius tamen Hibernos ad integram & omnibus numeris absolutam subjectionem, ante Iacobum Regem, adductos non fuisse libro edito luculenter docet’, ibid., p. 27. 88 Sommerville, Royalists and patriots, pp. 24–9; J. H. M. Salmon, ‘Catholic resistance theory, ultramontanism, and the royalist response, 1580–1620’, in J. H. Burns and Mark Goldie, eds., The Cambridge history of political thought, 1450–1700 (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 219–53, at pp. 234–5. 89 ‘Tum vero nullius vnquam populi consentio Rege sibi cooptando expressior, quam Hibernorum in Iacobo Reges suo agnoscendo, extitit. Honestiores quique, vt moris est, singulorum comitatuum incolae ad locae & diem à vicecomite [sic, for prorege] constitutum, sub an. Dom. 1613 confluxerunt, & duos è suo numero procuratores designarunt, qui vice ipsorum sententias in inferiori comitiorum conclaui ferrent’, [Lynch], Alithinologia, p. 27. 90 Brian Jackson, ed., ‘A document on the parliament of 1613 from St Isidore’s College, Rome’, Analecta Hibernica, 33 (1986), pp. 49–58; Ó hAnnracháin, ‘Imagining political representation’. 91 Aidan Clarke, ‘Patrick Darcy and the constitutional relationship between Ireland and Britain’, in Ohlmeyer, ed., Political thought, pp. 35–55. A R I S T O T E L I A N A N C I E N T C O N S T I T U T I O N 589 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core described the rest of these parliamentary elections in the most positive tones, Lynch then continued: By the first decree of this assembly, James, king of Great Britain was also acclaimed king of Ireland, by the lords in the upper chamber, and by the representatives in the lower, just as in the place of all, so by the voice of all, to the greatest joy indeed of all the Irish, and in particular of the Old Irish.92 Lynch explained the particular pleasure of the Old Irish by the fact that they now, for the first time in hundreds of years, had a king ‘undoubtedly sprung from the lineage of their own kings’.93 Lynch had previously argued this point at much greater length in the Cambrensis eversus, where he had described four genealogical lines by which James VI and I was descended from the Milesian kings.94 Moreover, Lynch continued, even allowing that the initial establishment of English power in Ireland was unjust, that was almost 500 years ago. Both in the case of a state seized by a tyrant, and ecclesiastical property seized by a layman, 100 years was long enough to provide a title by prescription.95 Lynch supported this argument with a marginal citation of the second book, fifth chapter of the République, in which Bodin treated the title to a kingdom of a tyrant’s successors.96 The archdeacon then summed up his arguments for the Stuart kings’ title to Ireland: Therefore, it would be unbearably reckless to deprive the kings of England of the sover- eignty of Ireland, to whom it has been transferred by right of war, consent of magnates and people, long duration of possession, family ancestry, the authority of the pope, and clear indication of divine judgment.97 All of Lynch’s published work on the kingdom of Ireland was committed to the same anti-Aristotelian doctrine of Stuart sovereignty which Sir John Davies had developed to counter the Old English constitutional tradition, resting on Laudabiliter and the medieval parliamentary tradition, fifty years before.98 92 ‘Primo comitiorum horum decreto Iacobus magnae Britanniae Rex à proceribus in superiori aula; in inferiori à procuratoribus, sicut omnium vice, sic omnium voce, Rex etiam Hiberniae accla- matus est, summâ profecto omnium, ac praecipue veterum Hibernorum laetitiâ’, [Lynch], Alithinologia, p. 27. 93 ‘suorum Regum stemmate citra dubium exorti’, ibid., p. 28. 94 Lynch, Cambrensis eversus, III, pp. 52–67; Ó Muraı́le, ‘Aspects of the intellectual life of seventeenth- century Galway’, pp. 158–9; Ó Buachalla, ‘James our true king’, pp. 1–35; Marc Caball, Poets and poetry: continuity and reaction in Irish poetry, 1558–1625 (Cork, 1998). 95 [Lynch], Alithinologia, p. 28; Greenberg, Radical face, p. 20. 96 Bodin, Les six livres de la republiqve, bk II, ch. 5, p. 254; Bodin, On sovereignty, pp. 110–26, at p. 112. 97 ‘Est igitur non ferenda temeritas summum Hiberniae imperium Regibus Angliae subtrahere, in quos ius belli, magnatum & populi consensus, possessionis diuturnitas; generis prosapia, Summorum Pontificum authoritas, & non obscurum diuini iudicij indicium illud transtulit’, [Lynch], Alithinologia, p. 29. 98 [Lynch], Supplementum, pp. 24–30; Lynch, Cambrensis eversus, II, pp. 522–7, III, pp. 300–15, I, pp. 198–217, III, pp. 82–3. 590 I A N W. S. C A M P B E L L terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core I V Two years after the publication of the Ancient constitution and the feudal law, Friedrich Meinecke summed up a wide body of German scholarship in the argument that the new historicism developed by the pre-romantics and romantics depended crucially on their rejection of the earlier teleological style of history writing. Schiffman identified this teleology with early modern Aristotelianism. From a different direction, Schmidt, Feingold, and Brockliss have exposed the strength and longevity of Aristotelianism in both Catholic and Protestant universities throughout early modern Europe, and Brooks and Tubbs have emphasized the importance of Aristotelianism to the English common lawyers. The elite throughout the three Stuart kingdoms shared an education in this early modern Aristotelianism. Therefore, it is reasonable to see a set of unarticulated Aristotelian assumptions underlying the historically based political discourse (labelled the ancient constitution by Pocock) of this elite. The ancient constitution composed by Richard O’Ferrall, which epitomized a certain Irish political tradition, provides an example of these assumptions at play in Stuart Ireland. O’Ferrall’s preoccupation with Catholicity, Laudabiliter, and heresy were particularly Irish, but his interest in the endurance of essence through time, and the significance of efficient causes to the later substance of political entities, were common to all ancient constitution writers. Moreover, the identification by McRae and Blair of Bodin’s overall project as overtly anti-Aristotelian is a useful index of the Aristotelian nature of this discourse: Davies used Bodin against the Old English parliamentary ancient constitution, and Lynch used Davies and Bodin against O’Ferrall’s radical Catholic ancient constitution. The Enlightenment would drive Aristotelianism from the universities, and the ancient constitution slowly became a different form of political discourse, developing a close relationship with the new racialism and eventually becoming a minor component of romantic nationalism.99 In the Stuart century, however, the Aristotelian pole still exerted a powerful attraction throughout the three kingdoms. 99 Smith, Gothic bequest, pp. 6–7, 61–5, 97–131, 140–6. A R I S T O T E L I A N A N C I E N T C O N S T I T U T I O N 591 terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0018246X10000208 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_ewkbhxyazvfyzpg72adrgi4mce	----	artcultura22_copia.indd Márcia de Almeida Gonçalves Doutora em História Social pela Universidade de São Paulo (USP). Professora dos Departamentos de História da Universidade do Estado do Rio de Janeiro (Uerj) e da Pontifícia Universidade Católica do Rio de Janeiro (PUC-Rio). Bolsista do Programa Jovem Cientista do Estado (Faperj). Autora, entre outros livros, de Em terreno mo- vediço: biografia e história na obra de Octávio Tarquínio de Sousa. Rio de Janeiro: Eduerj, 2009. agmarcia@uol.com.br H is tó ri a ou r om an ce ? A r en ov aç ão d a bi og ra fi a na s dé ca da s de 1 92 0 a 19 40 V ir gi ni a W oo lf (d et al he ). 19 94 . ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011120 ℘ No alvorecer do século XXI, a biografia desfruta de favores e valores entre os gêneros discursivos mais presentes em diversos suportes: dos textos impressos, em tamanhos e formas variadas, às apropriações midiáticas pelo cinema, televisão e pela internet. Nos espaços acadêmicos e em campos de saber das ditas ciências sociais, ênfase para a história, a antropologia e a teoria literária, a reflexão acerca da presença e do uso de narrativas sobre ações e emoções de sujeitos individuais expandiu-se consideravelmente, História ou romance? A renovação da biografia nas décadas de 1920 a 1940 Márcia de Almeida Gonçalves resumo No alvorecer do século XX, o debate sobre biografias ocupou autores e intelectuais europeus interessados em reconsiderar os diversos campos da produção letrada. objetivamos nesse artigo situar esse debate entre autores ingleses, por meio da apresentação de algumas de suas indagações sobre a dimensão artística, na sua proximidade com a forma do romance, de biografias qualificadas como modernas. Se Lytton Strachey e sua “Rainha Vitória” (1921) vieram a se tornar referências, isso as- sim ocorreu no contexto de questiona- mentos realizados por harold Nicolson e por Virgínia Woolf, nas décadas de 1920 e 1930. ao caracterizarmos as indagações de Nicolson e Woolf, pre- tendemos analisar o valor seminal das mesmas em apropriações que afetaram autores franceses - destaque para an- dre Maurois e seu Aspectos da biografia (1928) – e também letrados e críticos brasileiros – como Edgard cavalheiro e seu texto Biografias e biógrafos (1943). palavras-chave: biografia; romance; modernismo abstract In the beginning of the 20th century, the debate about biographies occupied Euro- pean intellectuals and authors interested in discussing the various fields of literary production. This article aims to situate this debate between English authors, by presenting some questions about the artis- tic dimension of modern biographies and their strict relations to the novel. If Lytton Strachey and his “Queen Victoria” (1921) have became a reference, it just occurred in the context of inquiries made by Harold Nicolson and by Virginia Woolf, in the 1920s and 1930s. Those inquiries were appropriated by French authors, as Andre Maurois and his “Aspects of biography” (1928), and also by Brazilian critics, as Edgard Cavalheiro and his text “Biogra- phies e biographers” (1943). keywords: Biography; Novel; Modernism ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011 121 H is t ó r ia & B io g r a f iana esteira do que veio a ser designado de virada lingüística e guinada subjetiva1. Se ainda há o que discutir e analisar sobre os usos sociais alargados e características intrínsecas de histórias de vida de sujeitos individuais, e certamente há, as mesmas adquiriram um lugar reconhecido entre os artefatos culturais viabilizadores tanto do prazer estético quanto do po- der de conhecer, sensibilizando e orientando leitores os mais diversos, na contemporaneidade acelerada de nosso tempo presente. No intuito de contribuir para as reflexões acerca da biografia, inte- ressa-nos inventariar um pouco da sua história, no diálogo com aqueles que assim o fizeram em momentos outros, empenhados que estavam em estabelecer para as histórias de vida um status particular entre gêneros familiares, como a historiografia e o romance. Costuma-se afirmar que uma das marcas da biografia - quanto à meto- dologia de produção e à forma final da narrativa - aponta para o hibridismo, manifesto na mescla de preocupações de referencialidade documental com uma poética específica para sua escritura. Tal concepção, entretanto, possui historicidade, e é esse ponto que pretendemos situar no presente artigo. Dialogamos, em parte, com as considerações de Daniel Madelénat, no seu livro referencial sobre a biografia2. Na busca de compreender a his- tória da biografia como gênero particular entre as produções letradas no ocidente europeu, Madelénat propôs chaves analíticas em que se destaca a categorização de três paradigmas, a saber: a biografia clássica, a biografia romântica e a biografia moderna3. Nossa análise se direciona para essa última, e busca apresentar algumas das polêmicas que condicionaram seu surgimento e proliferação nas décadas iniciais do século XX. Segundo Madelénat, a biografia moderna nasceu da crise que afetou valores do humanismo greco-latino, da religião cristã e do racionalismo, em especial nas sociedades européias. Nesse quadro, destacar-se-iam a emergência e difusão: das filosofias do inconsciente, de Schopenhauer e de Nietzsche; das considerações da teoria psicanalítica freudiana; das revisões variadas do cientificismo positivista – nas remissões ao lugar do intuitivo como meio de conhecer –; e também das formulações estéticas dos pós-naturalistas, entre as produções artísticas do impressionismo, do expressionismo e do cubismo, inseridas no conjunto universo amplo dos “modernismos”. Rompiam-se assim certas normas e premissas do ideal de objetividade no ato de investigar e representar as ações humanas no mundo, em nome da maior complexidade psicológica do sujeito individual4. A escrita de biografias não foi poupada por essa crise de valores. Afinal, ao tratar de histórias de vida de sujeitos individuais, a biografia conjugava, nos seus procedimentos e na sua funcionalidade, àquela altura, uma série de características imbricadas com as premissas do conhecimento objetivo – referencialidade documental, veracidade, neutralidade do bió- grafo, entre outras5. Ao apostarem em uma nova biografia, para alguns uma biografia moderna, certos letrados desenvolveram questionamentos e indagações deveras interessantes, como as da positividade de seu hibri- dismo – “história e romance ao mesmo tempo”–, constituindo referências com as quais, de certa forma, ainda dialogamos. Em língua inglesa, tais indagações a muitos mobilizaram. Identifi- quemos, então, algumas delas. 1 acerca das implicações episte- mológicas da virada lingüística, ver rortY, richard M. The linguistic turn: essays on phi- losophical method. chicago: chigago University Press, 1992. Sobre a guinada subjetiva, ver Sarlo, Beatriz. Tempo passado: cultura da memória e guinada subjetiva. São Paulo: compa- nhia das letras, 2007. 2 Ver MaDElÉNat, Daniel. La biographie. Paris: Presses Universitaires de france, 1984. 3 ao se valer do conceito de paradigma, Madelénat enfa- tiza sua dimensão heurística. assim esclarece que o conceito de paradigma permite uma classificação sob a lógica de uma espécie de tipo ideal, nesse sentido, modelar e referencial, estabelecendo critérios para construir uma inteligibilidade para as variadas formas que os textos biográficos assumiram na temporalidade longa, entre a grécia dos séculos V e iV antes de cristo e a contem- poraneidade do momento de publicação do seu trabalho, a década de 1980. Nessa pers- pectiva, a biografia clássica se situaria, entre surgimento e usos predominantes, a des- peito da diversidade, entre o mundo grego antigo e o século XVIII; a biografia romântica, entre finais do século XVIII e o curso do século XIX; a biografia moderna, na passagem para o século XX até a atualidade. Em obra recente, françois Dos- se (O desafio biográfico: escrever uma vida. São Paulo: Edusp, 2009. a publicação em francês, pela Éditions la Découverte, data de 2005), propõe tipo- logia diferenciada e referida às seguintes categorizações: a idade heróica, a biografia modal e a idade hermenêutica. Sem aprofundar controvérsias, identificamos na categorização de Madelénat critérios melhor explicitados por relacionar as diversas formas assumidas pelo texto biográfico a parâme- tros sócio-culturais específicos, entre os quais as transforma- ções nas maneiras de conceber sujeitos e subjetividades e os processos de laicização, fortes na modernidade européia, nas suas implicações éticas e estéticas. 4 Ver MaDElÉlENat, Daniel, op. cit., p. 63. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011122 Biografias ao estilo inglês Tomamos de empréstimo, a título de “pré-texto”, reflexões de Hannah Arendt presentes em suas análises sobre a biografia de Rosa Luxemburgo, de autoria de J. P. Nettl, em resenha publicada no New York Review of Books, em 1966, e constante da coletânea “Homens em tempos sombrios”, versão brasileira, na década de 1980, para os títulos Men in dark Times, de 1968, versão em língua inglesa, e Vies politiques, de 1974, da coletânea em francês. Passemos a ela, citando-a: A biografia definitiva, ao estilo inglês, conta-se entre os gêneros mais admiráveis da historiografia. Extensa, meticulosamente documentada, densamente anotada e generosamente entremeada de citações, geralmente aparece em dois grandes volumes e conta mais, e mais vividamente, sobre o período histórico em questão do que todos os livros de história mais importantes. Pois, ao contrário de outras biografias, a história não é aí tratada como o inevitável pano de fundo do tempo de vida de uma pessoa famosa; é antes como se a luz incolor do tempo histórico fosse atravessada e refratada pelo prisma de um grande caráter, de modo que no espectro resultante obtém-se uma unidade completa da vida e do mundo.6 O valor de um determinado tipo de escrita biográfica é aqui posto em destaque pela autora alemã nos termos, entre outros argumentos, do poder cognitivo que essa forma de historiografia, grifemos, poderia ren- der. Como meio de refração da luz incolor do tempo histórico, a biografia estabeleceria a necessária conexão entre vida e mundo. Na sua imagem e entendimento, Arendt nos fala de uma biografia definitiva, no estilo inglês. talvez não soubesse ou não quisesse saber, e isso pouco importa, o quan- to de polêmica envolveu a produção desse tipo de aposta biográfica e o quanto a questão de seu poder de gerar conhecimento foi alvo de algumas reflexões deveras interessantes no alvorecer do século XX. Reflexões que circunscreveram para as biografias uma especialidade como produção letrada capaz de dar conta, de maneira especial e única, dos significados e interpretações das ações humanas. A referencialidade “inglesa” não nos parece furtiva e merece ser tratada com atenção, posto que, ao fim, marcou lugar entre os diversos processos de construção e canonização de nomes de autores e obras, para além dos leitores estritos daquela nacionalidade. Em um inventário bastante preliminar, algumas iniciativas, merecem ser contextualizadas. comecemos por leslie Stephen (1832-1904) e Sidney lee (1859-1926). Entre outros projetos e publicações, leslie Stephen envolveu-se com a editoria do Cornhill Magazine, na década de 1870; foi autor de History of English Thougth in the Eighteenth Century (1876 e 1881), e de biografias de Samuel Johnson, Alexander Pope, Jonathan Swift, George Eliot e Thomas Hobbes. Detalhe significativo, vale acrescentar que, do seu segundo ca- samento, nasceram quatro filhos. A terceira foi Adeline Virginia Stephen (1882-1941), mais conhecida pelo nome de casada como Virginia Woolf. Stephen foi também o primeiro editor, entre 1885 e 1891 do Dictionary of national biography (DNB). o projeto para essa publicação foi proposto em 1882 por george Smith, proprietário do Cornhill Magazine, periódico no qual Stephen 5 Para a análise desses aspectos no que concerne à produção letrada brasileira oitocentista, no âmbito particular do insti- tuto Histórico e Geográfico do Brasil, ver oliVEira, Maria da glória de. Escrever vidas, narrar a história: a biografia como pro- blema historiográfico no Brasil oitocentista. tese (Doutorado em história) – UfrJ, rio de Janeiro, 2009. 6 arENDt, hannah. Homens em tempos sombrios. São Paulo: companhia das letras, 2008, p. 41. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011 123 H is t ó r ia & B io g r a f iarespondia pela editoria. Pretendia-se elaborar um dicionário biográfico da história universal. a idéia de restringir a nomes referentes ao reino Unido e a suas colônias partiu de leslie Stephen, garantido assim que ele viesse a ser o primeiro responsável pela obra então mencionada. o Dictionary of national biography foi inspirado, em certa medida, na pu- blicação setecentista “Biografia britânica”, tendo, contudo, pretensões de levantamento exaustivo, quiçá enciclopédico, de nomes que deve- riam figurar entre os que construíram, e ou contribuíram para, a nação inglesa e sua grandeza7. Sidney lee trabalhou como assistente de leslie Stephen desde o início da publicação do DNB, assumindo a editoria entre 1891 e 1900, perfazendo cerca de 63 volumes publicados. houve edições complementares entre 1900 e 1917, coordenadas por lee. Em 1917, o dicionário passou a ser editado pela oxford University Press. Na década de 1990, foi revisado por meio do projeto que produziu o New dictionary of national biography, versão on line hoje como Oxford dictionary of national biography8. Sidney lee, de acordo com seu obituário publicado no The Times, em 4 de março de 19269, foi apresentado como o estudioso de Shakespeare e como biógrafo. foi o editor do DNB, como pontuado, e também um dos que escreveu parte significativa dos seus verbetes. Associou seu nome também a uma biografia da Rainha Vitória, datada de 1902. Em 1911, já como autor reconhecido, proferiu em cambridge, na en- tão criada Leslie Stephen Lecture, a conferência “Princípios da Biografia”. Posteriormente, em 1917 e 1918, versão similar de suas idéias apareceu no texto publicado pela English Association, sob o título “a perspectiva da biografia”. Ambos os textos hoje foram digitalizados e disponibilizados pela cornell University library Digital collections10. interessa-nos recuperar algumas de suas idéias nesses textos, posto que, a notoriedade de Sidney lee como biógrafo fez dele também, naquelas circunstâncias, o representante de certa maneira de conceber o gênero bio- gráfico, questionada, entre outros, por Harold Nicolson (1886-1968), Lytton Strachey (1880-1932) e Virginia Woolf (1882-1941), jovens interlocutores contemporâneos, adeptos da criação de uma nova biografia, propositores das idéias e práticas que deveriam norteá-la. Passemos então a Sidney Lee e a seus “Princípios da Biografia”, citando-o: Biografia existe para satisfazer um instinto natural do homem – o instinto comemo- rativo – o desejo universal de manter vivas as memórias daqueles que pelo caráter, por seus descobrimentos e por atos de heroísmo se distinguiram da massa do gênero humano. Monumentos em geral competem com a biografia na preservação das memórias dos mortos. Todavia, Jacques Amyot, o grande escritor da Renascença francesa – aquele que pela tradução das obras de Plutarco, inaugurou a influência do mestre grego da biografia sobre o pensamento e a conduta moderna – escreveu essas sábias palavras sobre os valores da biografia e da arte para as comemorações do caráter e das realizações humanas: ‘Nem a pintura, nem as imagens de már- more, nem os arcos do triunfo, nem obeliscos e nem sepulturas suntuosas, podem demarcar a longevidade de uma biografia eloqüente, caracterizada pelas qualidades que ela deve possuir’. ‘Caracterizada pelas qualidades que ela deve possuir’, esse é o problema que devemos enfrentar. A biografia não se impõe tanto aos olhos de todos como as pirâmides e os mausoléus, estátuas e colunas, retratos e memoriais, mas é o 7 Ve r v e r b e t e “ S i r l e s l i e S t e p h e n ” , d i s p o n í v e l e m <http://www.nndb.com/peo- ple/089/000097795/>. acesso em 15 abr. 2011. 8 Ver site http://www.oxfor- ddnb.com. acesso em 15 abr. 2011. 9 Ver http://en.wikisource.org/ wiki/the_times/1926/obitua- ry/Sidney_lee. acesso em 20 abr. 2011. 10 Ver lEE, Sidney. Principles of biography. cambridge: cam- bridge University Press, 1911. Do mesmo autor, the perspec- tive of biography. The English Association, Pamphlet n. 41, 1918. ambos republicados por cornell University library Digital collections, 2010. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011124 meio mais seguro (...) de proteger uma memória do esquecimento. (...) O propósito da biografia é, em termos gerais, garantir para o futuro a história de indivíduos, homens e mulheres, é fazer perdurar seu caráter e suas ações meritórias. (...) A biografia proporciona a satisfação do instinto de comemoração por meio do esforço de transmitir uma personalidade.11 Desdobramentos dessa forma de conceber as funções da biografia seriam então detalhados por Sidney lee no sentido de delimitar condições para a sua produção. a primeira delas, os cuidados na escolha do sujeito a ser biografado, posto que esses deveriam despertar o “interesse da pos- teridade”. A segunda, o estilo de registro, leiamos de escrita, que deveria superar os modismos do calor da hora. Na sua síntese argumentativa, a matéria e a maneira adequadas, o tema e o tratamento adequados, de forma a satisfazer plenamente o “instinto comemorativo”12. Se assim postulava, relativizava, entretanto, as formas de satisfazer o instinto comemorativo, ao afirmar que essas não atendiam a uma lei his- tórica imutável. Para sustentar seu argumento, lançava mão da metáfora cunhada por ariosto, o poeta italiano, de que as medalhas de cada um seriam atiradas pelo tempo no rio do esquecimento – Lethe – e que alguns nadadores recolheriam certas medalhas para depositá-las no templo ou no museu da imortalidade. Para lee, os nadadores de ariosto seriam os biógrafos. Mesmo ao asseverar o papel do biógrafo como aquele que salvaria alguns do esquecimento, lee buscava estabelecer critérios gerais que deve- riam orientar a possibilidade de imortalizar uns e não outros. Nesse ponto, enfatizava: o tema adequado para uma biografia seria uma trajetória séria, completa e de certa magnitude. Isso criaria a distinção entre as “medalhas” de cada um e deveria direcionar o trabalho do biógrafo. No tratamento dessas vidas magnânimas, segundo Sidney lee, o biógrafo deveria afirmar a autonomia do método biográfico. Para de fato praticá-lo, lee criticava os perigos das abordagens moralistas, cujos resultados comprometeriam a verdade acerca das ações do biografado, e também, as sobreposições entre biografia e historiografia, asseverando a especificidade da primeira em abordar mais as vidas individuais do que os tempos, de posse de uma necessária lente de aumento ao retratar persona- lidades. Citava o mestre Leslie Stephen na sua condenação das biografias que pecassem pelo excesso de idolatria. Entre outros aspectos do método biográfico, Lee destacava a impor- tância da concisão e da brevidade como a síntese onde o biógrafo expli- citaria sua marca autoral. abria exceções ao manter o posto de referência para a Vida de Johnson (1791) de James Boswell13. Valia-se da importância da síntese narrativa elaborada pelo biógrafo ao situar os particularismos de produção de biografias coletivas, como aquelas que constituíram o Dictionary of national biography, enaltecendo, à sua maneira e com muita autoridade, uma das realizações que o celebrizaram14. interessante destacar o quanto nas abordagens de lee há uma aposta na escrita biográfica como um campo particular e fundamental da produção letrada. Um campo que, nessa condição, reclamava seus métodos próprios e seus especialistas. Uma geração de letrados ingleses iniciou suas atividades intelectuais nesse contexto, diríamos, de autonomização da escrita biográfica. Dessa 1 1 l E E , S i d n e y. P r i n c i p l e s of biography, op. cit., p. 7-9. tradução livre. No original: “Biography exists to satisfy a natural instinct in man – the commemorative instinct – the universal desire to keep alive the memories of those who by character and exploits have distinguished themselves from the mass of mankind. art, pic- torial, plastic, monumental art, competes with biography in preserving memories of buried humanity. But Jacques amyot, the great prose writer of the french renaissance – amyot who, by this french transla- tion of the works of Plutarch, first made the greek master of biography an influence on modern thought and conduct – wrote these wise words on the relative values of biography and art as means of commemo- rating men’s characters and achievements: ‘there is neither picture, nor image of marble, nor arch of triumph, nor pillar, nor sumptuous sepulchre, can match the durableness of an eloquent biography, furnished with the qualities which it ought to have’. ‘furnished with the qualities which it ought to have’ – there is the problem which we are met to face. Biography is not so imposing to the general eye as pyramids and mausoleums, statues and columns, portraits and memo- rial foundations, but is the safest way (…) to protect a memory from oblivion. (…) the aim of biography is, in general terms, to hand down to a future age the history of individual men or women, to transmit endur- ingly their character and ex- ploits. (…) Biography aims at satisfying the commemorative instinct by exercise of its power to transmit personality.” 12 lEE, Sidney. Principles of biography, op. cit, p. 9. 13 Publicada em 1791, a biogra- fia de mais de 1000 páginas do escritor Samuel Johnson, escrita por seu fiel secretário James Boswell, veio a se constituir em uma espécie de modelo. Segundo Daniel Madelénat, Boswell não apenas deu forma à trajetória do biografado, mas também à sua visão de mundo, por meio da análise de suas cartas e conversas registradas. Ver MaDElÉNat, Daniel, op. cit.,p. 56. 14 Idem. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011 125 H is t ó r ia & B io g r a f iafeita, em alguns casos, para constituir abordagens que, ao dialogar com os autores referenciais, nesse caso Sidney lee, buscaram asseverar um enfoque diferenciado, a redesenhar formas e funções da escrita biográfica. Um nome entre outros merece apresentação: harold Nicolson (1886- 1968) e seu texto O desenvolvimento da biografia inglesa, publicado em 1928 pela hogarth Press, integrando a série sobre literatura produzida pela Editora de george rylands e leonard Woolf 15. harold Nicolson, diplomata, jornalista, e autor de algumas bio- grafias como a de Paul Verlaine, Tennyson e Saint Beuve, casado com a escritora Vita Sackville-West (1892-1962), relacionou-se com aqueles que compuseram o Bloomsbury group16, Virginia Woolf e Lytton Strachey, entre eles. Seu texto sobre o desenvolvimento da biografia inglesa compôs uma sistematização da história desse tipo de narrativa. Na qualidade de síntese circulou na época, informando apropriações de elogiosa referencialidade como as de andré Maurois (1885-1967), no seu Aspectos da biografia (1928- 1929), conferências proferidas no trinity college, em cambridge, em maio de 192817. Nicolson constrói uma abordagem cronológica, entremeada pela periodização associada a autores e obras. Nesse caso, James Boswell e sua “fórmula” – “A vida de Johnson”, de 1791 - efetivamente constituíram um divisor de águas, com todo um capítulo a ele dedicado18. importa, no limite de nossa análise, apresentar os critérios constitu- ídos por Nicolson para argumentar acerca do desenvolvimento da escrita biográfica. Ao tratar das origens da biografia inglesa, o fez por meio da definição de biografia, valendo-se do que figurava no Oxford dictionary – “a história das vidas de indivíduos como um gênero da literatura”19. Preocupou-se, todavia, em frisar a biografia como arte, e distingui-la por seus procedimentos narrativos, sendo a avaliação dos mesmos o caminho para identificar a qualidade das biografias. Nessa empreitada classificatória, valia-se de uma espécie de tipo ide- al por ele designado pela oposição entre biografias “puras” e “impuras”. Na enumeração cuidadosa dos traços de impureza de textos biográficos, Nicolson inventariou os seguintes aspectos: o desejo de celebrar o morto, traduzido nos elogios fáceis e desmedidos; a composição da trajetória de vida de um indivíduo na qualidade de ilustração de uma teoria e/ou de concepções estranhas ao que de fato o biografado realizou, algo comum, segundo Nicolson, nas apreciações morais despropositadas; e por fim, uma subjetividade indevida por parte do biógrafo, no sentido dos exageros de certos juízos de valor20. Em contrapartida, Harold Nicolson categorizava as biografias puras por meio de suas características intrínsecas, com destaque, primeiramente, para o seu compromisso com a verdade histórica, nas suas palavras: O primeiro aspecto essencial é a verdade histórica, (...) a veracidade sábia de um retrato completo e acurado. (...) A falta de verdade na biografia inglesa é bastante tradicional e tem causado problemas na história do seu desenvolvimento (...). No século XIX, essa tradição assumiu a autoridade de lei moral. “A história da huma- nidade”, escreveu Carlyle, “é a história dos seus grandes homens: para encontrá-los, limpe a poeira sobre eles e os coloque em pedestais”. Em 1896, Sir Sidney Lee definia a inspiração da biografia como o “desejo instintivo de honrar as memórias dos que, 15 Ver NicolSoN, harold. The development of english biography. New York: harcourt, Brace and company, 1928. 16 o nome de um bairro de londres tornou-se a designação de um grupo de amigos que estudaram em cambridge, no trinity ou no King’s college, compondo um círculo de es- critores, intelectuais e artistas, do qual participaram leonard e Virginia Woolf, arthur Wa- ley, clive e Vanessa Bell, irmã de Virgínia, roger fry, John Maynard Keynes, entre outros. Sobre o Bloomsbury group ver, entre outros, roSENBaUM, S. P. The Bloomsbury Group: a collection of memories and commentaries. revised Edi- tion. toronto: University of toronto Press, 1995. E também, lEhMaNN, John. Virginia Wo- olf. rio de Janeiro: Jorge Zahar Editor, 1989. acerca de harold Nicolson, ver roSE, Norman. Harold Nicolson. london: tra- falgar Square, 2005. 17 Ver MaUroiS, andré. As- pects of biography. New York: D appleton & company, 1929. 18 Ver NicolSoN, harold, op. cit., p. 87-109. 19 Idem, ibidem, p. 7. No original: “the history of the lives of individual men as a branch of literature”. 20 Idem, ibidem, p. 9 e 10. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011126 pelo caráter e ações meritórias, se distinguiram da massa dos outros compatriotas”. (...) Tamanha consideração, exagerada por reverência e cuidado, produziu volumes comemorativos sem fim.21 Na sua forma de caracterizar a verdade histórica presente no texto biográfico, Nicolson, contudo, formalizava crítica às premissas morais que teriam causado, no século XiX, certa desmedida no ato de celebrizar e comemorar personagens ilustres, suas ações e obras. citava responsáveis por tais imprecisões, não poupando nomes referenciais na escrita de bio- grafias em solo e língua inglesa: Thomas Carlyle, autor, entre outros, do texto On heroes22, e Sidney lee, anteriormente mencionado, aliás, diríamos, seu principal alvo de controvérsias naquela conjuntura. O segundo aspecto essencial da biografia pura, segundo Nicolson, seria sua elaboração narrativa, assentada em critérios para sua construção que deveriam possibilitar o ir além do meramente informativo, devendo causar uma resposta diferenciada no leitor, algo como uma impressão que afetasse sua percepção e experiência própria. Esse efeito sensibilizador e mobilizador só poderia ser obtido por meio de biografias nas quais o biógrafo realizasse uma interpretação convincente, de modo que o leitor pudesse também identificar o trabalho de criação literária então realizado23. Por meio desses critérios, Nicolson contava sua história da biografia inglesa, adiantando que essa, no momento em que escrevia, ainda se en- contrava em sua infância. asseverava que muito estava por ser feito para que a arte da biografia pudesse ser exemplificada por número expressivo de biografias puras. o último capítulo do livro de Nicolson abordava as duas décadas iniciais do século XX. como conclusão do que já havia sido analisado nas páginas anteriores, o autor se permitia juízos avaliativos e prognósticos sobre o gênero em questão. Entre outras apreciações, afirmou que os biógrafos do século XiX, a despeito do crescimento da importância das biografias, não conseguiram estabelecer uma concepção própria para as mesmas, cegos pelos exageros comemorativos, ou atraídos pela história, ou pela ficção. Para Nicolson, o processo de diferenciação da biografia estava em curso naquele momento. reiterava, então, sua natureza particular: nem história, nem ficção, mas sim uma arte com características próprias. Para apresentar essa nova biografia Nicolson enumerou seus principais responsáveis: Sir Edmund gosse (1949-1928) e seu texto de 1907, Father and son e Mr Lytton Strachey (1880-1932), com seus livros Eminent Victorians (1918) e Queen Victoria (1921). Diferenças entre ambos, e preferências de Nicolson por Sir Edmund Gosse no que tocava a uma exemplificação fidedigna de “biografia pura”, cada um deles havia respondido às demandas de um tempo de mudanças quanto às exigências do público leitor acerca de histórias de vida. Exigências expressas no interesse pelo lado mais pessoal da história, associadas aos usos da psicologia. Para Nicolson, isso representava uma ambigüidade, ma- nifesta no gosto pelo “parcialmente científico” e no “parcialmente literário”, estando aí a possibilidade do leitor encontrar um caminho de identificação e de comparação com os sujeitos biografados. Debitava tal perspectiva do valor ampliado de aprender por meio de experiências humanas no mundo e entendia os cuidados com a forma literária como condição para sensibi- lizar leitores ávidos por conhecimentos que não excluiriam erros e vícios 2 1 I d e m , i b i d e m , p . 1 0 - 1 2 . tradução livre. No original: “the primary essential is that of historical truth, (…) the wider veracity of a complete and accurate portraiture. (…) this lack of truth in English biog- raphy is, as it happens, largely traditional, and is caused by accidents in the history of its development (…). in the nineteenth century, however, this accidental tradition was given the authority of a moral law. ‘the history of mankind’, wrote carlyle, ‘is the history of its great man: to find out these, clean the dirty from them, and place them on their proper pedestal.’ So late as 1896 Sir Sidney lee could define the inspiration of biography as ‘an instinctive desire to do honour to the memories of those who, by character and exploits, have distinguished themselves from the mass of their countrymen’. (…) Such exaggerated regard for reference and caution has produced endless commemora- tive volumes.” 22 Ver carlYlE, thomas. Os heróis. 2.ed. São Paulo: Melho- ramentos, 1963. Nessa obra, originalmente publicada na década de 1840, o autor inglês estabeleceu uma cuidadosa tipologia de heróis e materiali- zou sua concepção de história universal, estabelecida, entre outros aspectos, a partir das ações dos grandes homens, com forte dimensão morali- zadora. 23 Ver NicolSoN, harold, op. cit., p. 12 e 13. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011 127 H is t ó r ia & B io g r a f iado biografado e que, ao fazê-lo, fortalecessem a veracidade24. Para Nicolson, tal concepção da biografia lançava um desafio para o biógrafo do século XX, a saber: “combinar o máximo de cientificidade com a perfeição da forma literária”25. o que, como correspondência, implicaria em descartar motivos comemorativos ou de certa pedagogia. Edmund Gosse e Lytton Strachey representavam essas transformações e interferi- ram com seus respectivos trabalhos – Father and son e Queen Victoria – na ultrapassagem do “vitorianismo”26 e dos que como Sidney lee, em 1911, no texto anteriormente citado, enalteceram a função comemorativa dos textos biográficos. Ao final do livro, Nicolson lançava interrogações sobre o futuro da biografia e avaliava que a demanda contemporânea, leiamos 1928, pela combinação entre investigação científica e valor literário talvez viesse a favorecer as premissas conceituais de certo uso da psicologia. Nesse aspec- to, entre dúvidas e apostas. Nicolson alertava para incertezas de método ainda inexplorado, e, sob a tônica de investir na mudança, positivava o risco de, por outros caminhos, conhecer e transmitir a experiência humana no mundo. as ponderações de Nicolson parecem ter ecoado o debate que há ou- tros igualmente veio a mobilizar. Em outubro de 1927, Virgínia Woolf, em artigo publicado no periódico New York Harold Tribune27, tecia considerações similares as de harold Nicolson. as idéias apresentadas por Nicolson, em suas conferências postas em livro sob o título de The development of english biography, registravam uma posição de defesa de uma nova biografia e foi sob essa chamada que Virgínia Woolf realizou suas ponderações. Ao partir da depreciação do que Woolf designou como “biografia vitoriana”, a autora delimitava o início do século XX como um momento de mudança, não só para biografia, mas igualmente para a ficção e a poesia. Ao exemplificar as transformações, em particular quanto ao tamanho e ao trabalho de seleção e de síntese da nova biografia, apontava duas referên- cias: Lytton Strachey e seu Eminent Victorians (1918) e andre Maurois e sua Life of Shelley (1923). Afirmava, com isso, o fato do biógrafo, nos casos dos autores mencionados, ter deixado de ser o mero cronista e ter se tornado um artista. Virginia Woolf, todavia, alertava, contudo, para os perigos dessa em- preitada, ao situar, mais como provocação crítica do que como argumento bem desenvolvido naquelas circunstâncias, para as diferenças e até mesmo as incompatibilidades entre uma “verdade de fato” e uma “verdade de ficção”. Se, por um lado, valorizava a empreitada de proceder a essa com- binação, nos termos das idiossincrasias da nova biografia que nascera junto com o século XX; por outro, advertia sobre os perigos de certa ingenuidade por parte de biógrafos que viessem abusar de determinadas invenções sobre seus biografados, ao se inspirarem nos recursos retóricos e dramáticos da prosa do romance. Nesse abuso, para Woolf, um risco que deveria ser de todo evitado, qual seja: a incongruência com a verdade do que de fato teria ocorrido, referenciada no registro documental e/ou testemunhal28. anos depois, em artigo no periódico Atlantic Monthly, de abril de 1939, intitulado “A arte da biografia”29, Virginia Woolf parecia estar um pouco menos cética quanto aos problemas derivados das mudanças trazidas pela nova biografia. Começava seu texto a partir da pergunta de ser a biografia uma arte. Se tal questionamento poderia parecer um tanto idiota frente 24 Idem, ibidem, p. 141 e 142. 25 Idem, ibidem, p. 142 e 143. No original: “the problem which the biographer of the twentieth century has to solve is therefore that of combining the maxi- mum of scientific material with the perfection of literary form.” 26 O conceito de “vitorianismo” foi muito utilizado por autores críticos de determinados va- lores culturais característicos do período de governo da rainha Vitória na inglaterra (1837-1901), entre eles, precei- tos morais de resguardo da intimidade em oposição ao es- mero e formalidade de imagens de retidão moral referentes à dimensão pública. 27 Ver Woolf, Virginia. the new biography. New York Har- old Tribune, 30 out. 1927. repub- licado em clifforD, James l. Biography as an art: selected criticism 1560-1960. londres: oxford University Press, 1962, p. 126-128. 28 Idem, ibidem, p. 127. 29 Ver Woolf, Virginia. the art of biography. Atlantic Monthly, abr. 1939. republicado em clifforD, James l. Biography as an art, op. cit., p. 128-134. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011128 às muitas contribuições dos trabalhos de biógrafos, o mesmo tinha lá sua validade, e acrescentemos, atualidade, no que se referia às possibilidades de qualificar e individualizar esse tipo de produção cultural. Entre outras ponderações, Woolf se remeteu aos trabalhos de Lytton Strachey, referendando-o como marco na história da biografia. Seus três livros mencionados – Eminent Victorians (1918), Queen Victoria (1921) e Eliza- beth and Essex (1928) – eram a expressão de sua relevância e também daquilo que um biógrafo deveria e não deveria realizar. Esclareçamos melhor: se Queen Victoria era modelar, o mesmo não se aplicava a Elizabeth and Essex. Mais uma vez enfatizando as limitações relativas à referencialidade docu- mental intrínseca a uma biografia, Woolf afirmava o papel dos biógrafos como “criadores pela metade”, o que para ela ampliava as dificuldades de escrever histórias de vida e, concomitantemente, reificava sua especialidade e sua natureza particular frente às obras de ficção30. A imagem da biografia como um trabalho artesanal socorreu Virginia Woolf na defesa dessa produção cultural como algo que a aproximava, mas também a afastava, da criação artística, essa vista como mais livre para a elaboração, por exemplo, de personagens e suas atribulações. certos pro- cedimentos e cuidados do biógrafo quanto ao que foi registrado sobre a vida do seu biografado não poderiam ser menosprezados, muito menos esquecidos, em nome de construções narrativas de cunho fortemente especulativo, mesmo que muito bem elaboradas, com toques de poética romanesca. a maestria de Strachey, nesses aspectos, só poderia ser aplicada aos seus dois primeiros textos de aposta na biografia. Ao concluir seu artigo, Virginia Woolf, à sua maneira, dignificava as biografias, nos seguintes termos: O biógrafo é um artesão, não um artista e seu trabalho não é uma obra de arte, mas algo além e aquém. Mesmo nesse nível mais baixo o trabalho do biógrafo é inava- liável. (...) Ao nos contar fatos verdadeiros, (...) o biógrafo estimula a imaginação mais do que o poeta e o romancista (...). O biógrafo pode nos fornecer a informação fértil e criativa, o fato que sugere e engendra. (...) Assim, freqüentemente, quando uma biografia é lida e deixada de lado, algumas cenas permanecem presentes e bri- lhantes, algumas figuras vivem nas profundezas da mente e nos causam, quando lemos um poema ou um romance, uma sensação de reconhecimento, como se nos recordássemos de algo que conhecemos antes.31 Do seu ponto de vista, Woolf frisava para a biografia o poder de gerar conhecimento e de sensibilizar leitores. A desqualificação do que ela e outros, como Harold Nicolson, denominaram de “biografia vitoriana” era, em parte, o artifício - muito direcionado para o público leitor inglês, a princípio -, empenhado em demarcar a emergência de uma nova biografia, por meio da defesa de determinado tipo de projeto para escrita biográfica, revendo tanto suas formas, quanto suas funções. Nesse sentido, tal pre- missa era também, destaquemos, sintoma da demanda por uma revisão acerca dos valores e práticas já estabelecidos e consagrados, em especial os que incorriam na comemoração pouco crítica e ao fim, em muitos casos, impregnada por pedagogia de tom moralizante. Na ação de desmonte do “vitorianismo” nas narrativas sobre histó- rias de sujeitos individuais, a valorização da obra de Lytton Strachey, e em particular, de sua biografia da Rainha Vitória, tornou-se ícone e estratégia 30 Idem, ibidem, p. 129-130. 31 Idem, ibidem, p. 133-134. tra- dução livre. No original: “(...) and thus we come to the con- clusion, that he is a craftsman, not an artist; and his work is not a work of art but something betwist and between. Yet on that lower level the work of the biographer is invaluable; (…) By telling us the true facts (…), the biographer does more to stimulate the imagination than any poet or novelist (…). he can give us the creative fact; the fertile fact; the fact that sug- gests and engenders. (…) for how often, when a biography is read and tossed aside, some scene remains bright, some figure lives on in the depths of the mind, and causes us, when we read a poem or novel, to feel a start of recognition, as if we remembered something that we had Known before.” ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011 129 H is t ó r ia & B io g r a f iade ataque para os que, em outras terras, dialogaram com tais demandas e questões32. Andre Maurois e o Homo Biographicus Em 1928, andré Maurois, em publicação que reuniu conferências proferidas no trinity college, em cambridge, em maio daquele mesmo ano, sistematizou um conjunto de reflexões sob o título de Aspectos da bio- grafia33. Em seis capítulos, andré Maurois se dispôs a fazer uma espécie de radiografia do estado atual das questões sobre a escrita de biografias, abordando os seguintes temas: a biografia moderna, a biografia como obra de arte, a biografia considerada como ciência, a biografia como um meio de expressão, autobiografia e as relações entre a biografia e o romance. as considerações de andré Maurois lograram frutos, tornando-se referência de indagações variadas sobre o valor intrínseco das ditas bio- grafias modernas. Inspirou muitos dos intelectuais brasileiros, de alguma forma preocupados com a produção de biografias de vultos nacionais, entre as décadas de 1920 e 1940. Por essa relevância, as indagações de Maurois, no momento de sua emergência, tornaram-se uma matriz importante de idéias sistematizadas acerca dos usos, valores e características do gênero biográfico. Proferidas em inglês, publicadas em francês, traduzidas para o inglês, entre 1928 e 1929, as lectures de Maurois circularam nas pratelei- ras de livros de intelectuais de outras terras e línguas, aportando em solo brasileiro, para a alegria ingênua dos bacharéis que liam avidamente tudo que da frança brotasse. o eixo das análises de Maurois se orientava na tematização sobe uma nova biografia, uma biografia moderna. Seus exemplos se voltaram para a literatura inglesa, sendo a obra de Lytton Strachey entendida como um divisor de águas, a reação contra os tediosos e volumosos panegíricos que tipificaram biografias do período vitoriano. Strachey havia inaugurado uma nova forma para a narrativa biográfica, elevando-a à categoria de uma obra de arte. Strachey seria magistralmente o historiador exato que exerceu o poder de apresentar o material pesquisado artisticamente34. Nos argumentos de Maurois, escudados em referências a harold Nicolson e a Virginia Woolf, a emergência dessa nova biografia remontava ao alvorecer do século XX. Esse tempo, segundo o autor francês, teria sido um período de revolução intelectual, marcado, entre outros aspectos, pela crescente interferência da psicologia e da ética nos métodos intelectuais de aprendizagem e investigação. Uma certa liberdade na formulação de inquéritos afetou, sobremaneira, aos romancistas, repercutindo sobre o co- nhecimento histórico e, principalmente, sobre uma de suas manifestações, a biografia. O biógrafo moderno, em diálogo com essas transformações, seria aquele que entenderia o biografado como uma verdade a ser cons- truída a partir de um método de investigação pautado no abandono de quaisquer idéias pré-concebidas e no levantamento e na análise de toda documentação disponível35. ao ponderar sobre os limites da imparcialidade nas atitudes e méto- dos do biógrafo moderno, Maurois frisava, com cores fortes, a dimensão de autonomia desse último com relação aos compromissos familiares e fraternais que limitavam as narrativas do “biógrafo vitoriano”. A expressão, tomada de empréstimo das considerações de Virginia Woolf, funcionava, 32 a despeito da referenciali- dade adquirida pela obra e de sua circulação internacional, sua publicação no Brasil data de 2001. Ver trigo, luciano. Uma rainha em tamanho na- tural. In: STRACHEY, Lytton. Rainha Vitória. rio de Janeiro/ São Paulo: record, 2001, p. 9-21. 33 Ver MaUroiS, andré. As- pects of biography, op.cit. 34 Idem, ibidem, p. 7-9. 35 Idem, ibidem, p. 13-15. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011130 ao fim, como a caracterização de uma época que alguns buscaram ultra- passar, em particular, no campo das sensibilidades e das manifestações artísticas. Mais uma vez, entre os que se insurgiram contra os valores da era vitoriana, aparecia Lytton Strachey. O seu Eminent Victorians e sua Queen Victoria, colocados lado a lado com as estátuas de pedra esculpidas por biógrafos do século XiX, destoavam pelo tom de excentricidade irônica. Na leitura de Maurois, Strachey havia escolhido vitorianos para biografar em função de suas críticas ao “vitorianismo”, e, nessa perspectiva, havia pintado retratos póstumos com o toque leve da caricatura. Maurois destacava, como contemporâneo, uma das marcas que mais celebrizaram o autor inglês: o efeito cômico. O estilo de escrever biografias de Lytton Strachey, em especial na figuração da rainha Vitória, quis apresen- tar a fisionomia de sua biografada a partir de traços marcantes, a proceder como o caricaturista, desta feita, para realizar o retrato em papel e letras. Strachey teria sido o responsável pela produção de imagens humanas naturais e verossímeis. Seu método, como procurou demonstrar Maurois, havia inaugurado um fazer renovado na arte de escrever biografias. Con- tudo, se utilizado por escritores pouco sensíveis para percepções psicoló- gicas, poderia incorrer na comédia de baixa qualidade. ciente dos riscos, Maurois, todavia, preferia acreditar na proeminência e longevidade dos escritores geniais. Ainda na caracterização das biografias produzidas por Lytton Stra- chey, Maurois argumentou que os tradicionais panegíricos não teriam de fato valor educativo, posto que muitos já não mais lhe creditassem essa potencialidade. Naquele momento, existiria uma geração habituada a res- peitar a verdade científica e que, tendencialmente, preferiria mirar-se nas ações de homens factíveis, desconfiando dos que mais se assemelhavam a estátuas de pedra36. Se alguns ponderavam que a revelação das misérias humanas de alguns notáveis poderia nublar sua magnitude histórica, Maurois acenava com a autenticidade sincera da “Rainha Vitória” cons- truída pela argúcia de Lytton Strachey. Seus esforços de humanizá-la, no traçado de um prosaico elenco de defeitos e virtudes, na busca do retrato verdadeiro, fazia do autor inglês o nome referencial para a exemplificação da biografia moderna. Essa forma nova, tão bem realizada por Lytton Stracchey, possuiria, segundo Maurois, três características essenciais: a procura corajosa da verdade, a valorização da complexidade humana, a busca de homens mo- dernos por textos e personagens “à sua imagem e semelhança”. Efetivar todas essas características tornavam o trabalho de elaboração dessas novas narrativas de vida uma empreitada dificultada por alguns impasses. O principal deles referia-se à conciliação de duas demandas aparentemente antagônicas: a investigação da verdade histórica e a pesquisa das expres- sões de uma personalidade. Mesmo ao reconhecer, em consonância com a opinião de contem- porâneos – harold Nicolson e Virginia Woolf – que a fronteira entre arte e ciência estava bem delimitada e guardada por valores aceitos, andré Maurois acreditava ser possível mesclar a insistência na verdade com o desejo de beleza. Esperava, assim, argumentar a favor de que arte e ciên- cia pudessem ser reconciliadas e de que um livro científico, perfeitamente construído, fosse considerado um trabalho de arte37. Maurois, entretanto, alertava para os problemas do método biográ- 36 Idem, ibidem, p. 19-24. 37 Idem, ibidem, p. 38. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011 131 H is t ó r ia & B io g r a f iafico; problemas associados ao infinito cuidado, à absoluta honestidade, à fixação de nunca alterar acontecimentos singulares. Se o fato científico poderia vir a ser explicado por procedimentos de análise e de síntese, o entendimento de um ser humano e de sua inevitável complexidade não poderia ser resumido a uma exaustiva compilação de detalhes38. o mé- todo biográfico seria ambíguo e problemático ao lidar com tentativas de circunscrever tamanha complexidade. No último capítulo de seu Aspectos da biografia, intitulado “Biografia e o romance”, Maurois desenvolveu reflexão acerca das dificuldades de se alcançar a verdade sobre a vida de um homem, a partir de uma compara- ção entre a liberdade de criação do romancista e as imposições da funda- mentação documental, típicas do ofício do biógrafo. Se na construção de seus personagens, o romancista poderia e deveria lançar mão das imagens necessárias, no sentido de dar-lhes vida, percepções, pensamentos, ação; o biógrafo, tanto quanto o historiador, assim não poderia proceder, tendo que circunscrever suas inferências àquilo que estivesse presente nos vestígios documentais referentes ao seu biografado. A diferença fundadora entre a narrativa ficcional e a de caráter realis- ta, em muitos aspectos, possibilitava ao romancista, especialmente àquele, em alguma medida, ancorado na perspectiva de criar textos e personagens verossímeis, a produção de relatos muito mais convincentes e sensibiliza- dores de leitores em busca de boas histórias sobre misérias e grandezas humanas. Essa constatação foi encaminhada para uma derradeira questão: em que medida, o biógrafo poderia valer-se das técnicas do romancista. Para Maurois, a busca, por parte dos biógrafos, da elaboração de narrativas humanizadoras de seus biografados, dificultaria ainda mais suas tarefas sempre norteadas pela fronteira dos registros documentais. Nessa aparente adversidade, contudo, Maurois visualizava um desafio e um estímulo, suportado e, sem dúvida bem realizado, pelos biógrafos que criaram belos retratos em papel e letras, como Strachey e sua “rainha Vitória”. Em certa medida, os bons biógrafos conseguiriam, como os bons ro- mancistas, manter Sherazade viva, caso ela fosse narrar suas histórias entre seus contos das mil e uma noites. Para que a vida de Sherazade viesse a ser poupada, a história que estivesse a narrar, sendo a de um único homem, suas desventuras e esperanças, deveria primar pela cadência envolvente e suscitadora da curiosidade sobre o desenrolar da trama, já que o final – a morte do biografado –, a princípio, seria esperado39. Para Maurois, a sobrevivência de Sherazade dependeria, em larga medida do sujeito biografado, não só pelas especificidades de sua trajetória de vida, como também, pela forma como essas viessem a ser sistematiza- das pelo biógrafo. Seria, nesse ponto, fundamental fazer do biografado o Homo Biographicus, uma terceira categoria diferente do Homo Sapiens e do Homo Fictus. À sua maneira, abusando de imagens irônicas, André Maurois concebia cada um desses como espécimes habitantes de mundos correlatos, porém diferentes: a vida real, o espaço ficcional e o universo particular da narrativa biográfica40. As considerações finais de André Maurois postularam certezas, entre mais algumas relativizações. Em função dos valores culturais e das próprias experiências históricas, a escrita de biografias poderia sofrer alterações. Seria sempre, contudo, uma difícil forma de arte, posto que, demandaria 38 Idem, ibidem, p. 133. 39 Idem, ibidem, p. 197-198. 40 Idem, ibidem, p. 199-203. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011132 41 Idem, ibidem, p. 204. 42 Para uma análise mais de- talhada acerca das menções e apropriações do texto de andré Maurois em terras brasileiras, ver goNÇalVES, Márcia de almeida. Em terreno movediço: biografia e história na obra de octávio tarquínio de Sousa. rio de Janeiro: Eduerj, 2009. 43 Ver caValhEiro, Edgard. Biografias e biógrafos. curitiba/ São Paulo/rio de Janeiro: Edito- ra guaíra limitada, 1943. 44 Fagundes Varella foi publicado em 1940. Edgard cavalheiro (1911-1958) veio a ser mais conhecido pela sua biografia de Monteiro lobato (Monteiro Lobato. Vida e obra. São Paulo: cia Editora Nacional, 1955, 2 volumes). 45 Ver caValhEiro, Edgard, op. cit., p .11. 46 Idem, ibidem, p. 11-12. junções muito bem dosadas da investigação histórica e dos encantamentos do romance: o produto resultante da difícil junção entre técnica e intuição41. Estava, sem dúvida, a dignificar o gênero biográfico e mais, a valorizar uma certa maneira de escrever biografias, onde aliás, ele próprio figurava como entusiasta e divulgador. como mencionamos, as ponderações de Maurois tornaram-se, no seu tempo, uma espécie de referência obrigatória entre os que, em terras brasi- leiras, decidiram pensar sobre as transformações na escrita de biografias. Nos espaços da crítica literária da época, Maurois e seu livro, mais do que harold Nicloson, vieram a ser citados e, algumas de suas formulações até mesmo repetidas42. Entre os que assim procederam, um autor, pela origi- nalidade de suas apropriações, merece ser apresentado: Edgard cavalheiro e seu texto Biografias e biógrafos43. Strachey, Vitória, a guiar o leitor pelas mãos... comentar as obras e as idéias dos que passaram a ser considerados os pais fundadores de uma biografia moderna animou autores brasileiros, eles mesmos biógrafos, a envolver-se com reflexões mais detalhadas acerca dos estilos e metodologias construídos por Strachey e por Maurois. cavalheiro era, à época, também autor de biografias bem recebidas pela crítica, como foi o caso de seu Fagundes Varella44. No seu Biografias e biógrafos, Edgard cavalheiro partia da constatação de que, nos anos de 1937 e 1938, tanto na inglaterra quanto no Brasil, havia ocorrido uma proliferação significativa de textos biográficos. A primeira indagação do autor referiu-se aos motivos que pudessem explicar “o porquê desse absorvente recuo ao passado, dessa inquieta ressurreição dos mortos e, sobretudo, da indiscutível preferência do grande público pelos estudos biográficos”45. Explicava tal preferência ao associá-la ao “declínio do valor humano dentro da sociedade moderna, onde o indivíduo isolado cada vez mais desaparecia na massa popular”. Nas biografias, alguns encontrariam uma compensadora reconstituição crítica e histórica de grandes perso- nagens “que ultrapassaram as medidas normais da espécie”. De alguma forma, o retorno à vida de “intelectualidades empolgantes” representaria também “a tentativa desesperada de salvar o ideal ameaçado do individu- alismo”46. Cavalheiro, nesse sentido, pontuava o gosto por biografias como algo derivado da necessidade de valorizar o papel dos agenciamentos individuais, em tempos de emergência de massas e multidões populares. cavalheiro acrescentou a essas motivações outras que, particular- mente, gostaríamos de destacar: a febre de reviver ambientes ou figuras do passado traz, em si, simplesmente a necessidade insopitável de exteriorizar pensamentos, trabalhar idéias, de certa forma peadas por fatores políticos, numa fuga angustiada dos tempos presentes. Nessa fuga dos tempos presentes, vai muito da tragédia do intelectual diante dos problemas contemporâneos, problemas que, na maioria das vezes nem sequer pode comentar, quanto mais analisar.47 interessante reter o quanto cavalheiro destacava a importância das angústias de intelectuais do seu tempo presente como um elemento pro- pulsor da escrita de biografias, vistas, de certa forma, como um meio de ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011 133 H is t ó r ia & B io g r a f ia 47 Idem, ibidem, p. 12. 48 Idem, ibidem, p. 12. 49 Idem, ibidem, p. 12-13. 50 Idem, ibidem, p. 27. 51 Idem, ibidem, p. 31. expressão e mais, como fuga e evasão, estratégia possível para explicitar idéias e valores em crise, naquele momento. De certa forma, fazer viver certos indivíduos, por meio da escrita biográfica, valorizando suas ações e idéias, era criar um canal por onde o biógrafo pudesse, entre outros aspec- tos, louvar a liberdade, o indivíduo e outros princípios deslocados pelos ventos autoritários que sopraram sobre terras européias e americanas, em especial, na década de 1930. Edgard Cavalheiro complementava seus argumentos afirmando que: os biógrafos constituem, a partir de Plutarco, a grande paixão das épocas em que determinado tipo de civilização está prestes a corromper-se (...). Chega-se a ter a impressão de que os escritores pressentindo que a decadência é já fatal e talvez irremediável, já não se preocupam com outra coisa que não seja fazer o inventário dos grandes nomes de uma cultura em pleno naufrágio.48 Segundo cavalheiro, entre ceticismos e avaliações sobre a moderni- dade em curso, todas essas ponderações seriam pertinentes para elaboração de uma tentativa de explicar o boom de biografias. Cada uma delas, com suas peculiaridades, endossavam a perspectiva de que, na busca de vidas alheias e de trajetórias dos homens do passado, alguma resposta para os impasses do tempo presente pudesse vir a ser encontrada. Essa assunção, ao fim, conduziu Edgard Cavalheiro à conclusão de que a melhor maneira de compreender as motivações da expansão da biografia seria verificar como ela estava sendo praticada naquele momento. Na impossibilidade de esquadrinhar tantos autores e obras do gênero biográfico, Cavalheiro recorreu aos mestres referendados pela consagração do público e da crítica: entre outros, mais uma vez, Strachey e Maurois. Para Edgard Cavalheiro, esses autores haviam transformado a biografia em um documento humano, na dupla dimensão de mensagem espiritual e de reconstituição de épocas e ambientes do passado49. O ponto de corte de uma sintética história do gênero biográfico foi delegado a Lytton Strachey, identificado por Edgard Cavalleiro como o precursor da biografia moderna, aquele que, em suas obras, havia conse- guido que “o biografado deixasse de ser simples e amorfa figura histórica para se transformar num ser humano, com todos os defeitos e virtudes dos seres de carne e osso”50. além disso, Strachey foi apresentado como o crítico ferrenho e mordaz de um estilo de fazer biografia predominante na Inglaterra vitoriana. Para enfatizar esse aspecto e ilustrar o tom afiado e irônico das impressões do próprio Strachey, Edgard cavalheiro fez suas as palavras do escritor inglês: Quem não conhece esses dois grossos volumes com sua massa de material mal dige- ridos, o estilo descuidado, um tom de morno panegírico, uma lamentável ausência de escolha, de desprendimento e de construção, com os quais costumamos honrar os nossos mortos? São nos tão familiares como o cortejo das pompas fúnebres e trazem todos o mesmo ar de lenta e lúgubre barbárie. Perguntamo-nos, muitas vezes, se eles também não são obras de pompas fúnebres e o último artigo do seu contrato.51 Edgard cavalheiro misturou suas apreciações às informações sobre as obras de Strachey. a que inaugurou sua notoriedade e sua crítica agu- çada contra “biografias vitorianas” foi Eminent Victorians (1918). como ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011134 biografia e como relato histórico o livro foi duplamente impactante. Os textos biográficos que predominaram no século XIX tiveram a forma de “verdadeiros relatórios, insípitos e sem graça, destinados a meia dúzia de pacientes leitores”. Não tratavam da vida íntima, da realidade social, dos defeitos inerentes a todos os indivíduos, ignoravam o homem domésti- co, priorizando apenas o homem público, por vezes o desumanizavam, divinizando-o. além disso, o período vitoriano ainda era tabu para os historiadores da época; tratavam-no com demasiado respeito, à distância, evitando detalhes, em tom de “morno panegírico”52. Para Edgard Cavalheiro, Lytton Strachey retirou a história do domí- nio puramente científico, concebendo-a de tal maneira que suas narrativas pudessem usufruir de uma forma mais artística, em lugar da simples e monótona acumulação de feitos e datas. Lyttton Strachey, sem o saber, havia aberto o caminho para um gênero que iria fazer a glória e a fortuna de muitos autores, permitindo também, segundo Edgard cavalheiro, “a ressurreição de inúmeros mortos sepul- tados pela lousa comum e pelos vastos calhamaços com que procuravam honrá-los”53. a obra que mais do que qualquer outra consagrou Strachey como o renovador dos métodos biográficos foi “Rainha Vitória”. Nesse livro, segundo cavalheiro, Strachey Tomando o leitor pela mão e levando-o ao passado, entre uma agudíssima observação e uma nota do mais fino humor, como um cicerone que fosse ao mesmo tempo admi- rável “causeur”, ele consegue o milagre de fazer o leitor, neste ano de 1941, nesta cidade de São Paulo, ou em qualquer outra cidade de qualquer país, ele consegue, dizíamos, o milagre de fazer o leitor participar, comovidamente, da triste viuvez da grande Rainha, ou dos aborrecimentos de seu consorte, rainha ou príncipe que estiveram sempre tão distantes das nossas cogitações.54 a humanização de personagens notáveis, a possibilidade de tratá- los como seres de carne e osso, com virtudes e defeitos, por meio de uma prosa colorida e movimentada, era a marca mais expressiva da biografia de Strachey. Edgard cavalheiro não escondia seu entusiasmo ao compreender, como uma espécie de milagre, a possibilidade do leitor, em qualquer outra cidade de qualquer país, vir a comover-se com a sofrimento da rainha inglesa. As considerações finais de Edgard Cavalheiro sobre a obra de Stra- chey levaram-no a afirmar a paixão pela pesquisa e pelo documento ori- ginal, como características não menos importantes do método biográfico do autor inglês. assim, as investidas mais contumazes de Strachey contra certa concepção de história como ciência, não implicaram no desprezo pela pesquisa documental. Segundo cavalheiro, Strachey procurou demons- trar que o consórcio da história com a arte e a vida seria bem mais lógico e aceitável do que o consórcio da história com a ciência. Essa seria uma das grandes contribuições do autor inglês para a renovação do método biográfico. Lição seguida por muitos, nem sempre de forma satisfatória, posto que alguns não conseguissem, com o mesmo brilhantismo, redigir biografias viabilizadoras da união entre o romance e a história55. Biografia e (re) conhecimento Ao fim desse artigo, esperamos ter cumprido o objetivo que o norteou, 52 Idem, ibidem, p. 32-34. 53 Idem, ibidem, p. 36. 54 Idem, ibidem, p. 36 e 37. 55 Idem, ibidem, p. 39 e 40. ArtCultura, Uberlândia, v. 13, n. 22, p. 119-135, jan.-jun. 2011 135 H is t ó r ia & B io g r a f iaa saber: situar um pouco do debate sobre a renovação das biografias entre os autores mencionados, nas décadas de 1920 e 1940. Como afirmamos, a despeito das muitas diferenças entre nossa contemporaneidade, para alguns pós-moderna, e aquele tempo, grosso modo, o entre-guerras, é provável que algumas das dúvidas, apostas e considerações sobre a biografia ainda nos sejam um tanto familiares e próximas. Uma delas, arriscaríamos, seria a tônica de narrar histórias de sujeitos individuais visando mais à celebração da vida do que da morte, no exercício imaginativo cuidadoso de aplicar a máxima do “como se fosse”, tão cara às estratégias discursivas e retóricas da prosa do romance. Se houve então heranças oriundas desse rico debate sobre as caracte- rísticas e possibilidades de narrar histórias de sujeitos individuais, talvez o mais importante seja reafirmar o valor do prazer da leitura que biografias bem escritas podem proporcionar; e mais, parafraseando hannah arendt e Virgínia Woolf, ver nisso uma forma especialíssima de conhecer, ou reconhecer, as ilações inevitáveis e necessárias entre a vida de cada um e o mundo. ℘ Artigo recebido em janeiro de 2011. Aprovado em março de 2011. 
work_f3k6b5wp3fbwvimg3m56ncxxzq	----	Microsoft Word - Gilks_Fountain of the Innocents_Urban History_ms 11.2016 1 NB. This is the final, un-formatted and un-illustrated version of a manuscript completed in November 2016 and accepted for publication in Urban History (Cambridge University Press). PLEASE CONSULT THE PUBLISHED VERSION IF YOU WISH TO CITE THIS ARTICLE. DAVID GILKS*, School of History, University of East Anglia, Norwich NR4 7TJ, UK The Fountain of the Innocents and its place in the Paris cityscape, 1549–1788’, Urban History (forthcoming). Abstract: This article analyses how the Fountain of the Innocents appeared and also how it was used and perceived as part of the Paris cityscape. In the 1780s, the plan to transform the Holy Innocents’ Cemetery into a market cast doubt on the Fountain’s future; earlier perceptions now shaped discussions over reusing it as part of the transformed quarter. The article documents how the Fountain was dismantled in 1787 and re-created the following year according to a new design, explaining why it was created in this form. Finally, the article considers what contemporary reactions to the remade Fountain reveal about attitudes toward the authenticity of urban monuments before the establishment of heritage institutions and societies. The Fountain of the Innocents was one of the most iconic features in the Paris cityscape for over three centuries. But, rather than providing a focus for incremental incrustations of collective memory, its past fame now contrasts its present-day obscurity. Just as this obscurity makes it difficult to imagine why the Fountain once mattered, its present-day appearance belies its earlier forms and urban connections. This article therefore aims to reconstruct and analyse how the Fountain appeared, but also how it was perceived, represented and used between its creation in 1549 and its re-creation in 1788. My contention is that the Fountain provides a lens through which to observe wider cultural and intellectual trends and larger developments in and about Paris. The article will thus explore how changing social practices, administrative structures and stylistic expectations shaped efforts to integrate monuments of artistic, symbolic and historical meaning into urban improvement plans. Historicizing a particular monument in this way can sharpen our understanding of early modern 2 urban monumentality. The Fountain delineates the scope of the article, but research was prompted by and directed toward answering the broader question of how inhabitants of changing cities reconcile the city of the past with that of the future. This question can be asked of many cities and periods – real and imagined – because in most times and places remnants of the distant past conferred prestige and legitimacy, just as their loss prompted efforts to conserve what remained. The newly affluent inhabitants of Clarice show off ‘what remains of the ancient Clarices’ precisely because neither they nor their city have any connection with the city’s former incarnations.1 The Claricians are far from alone, but asking this question of early modern Paris yields especially curious and surprising results. Since Paris possessed few Roman remains, Renaissance monuments such as the Fountain carried a relatively greater symbolic freight, representing the classical style in the city and the start of a distinctive French artistic tradition. Though admired, during the eighteenth century Renaissance architecture seemed peculiar and, alongside other historic vestiges, was threatened with destruction. Before the mid-eighteenth century, most new buildings in Paris were simply created alongside the old. But between the 1750s and 1780s, a private-sector building boom and crown-led urban improvements transformed much of the city in ways that required destroying existing urban fabric. As a result, many inconveniently placed hotels, gates, convents, churches, cemeteries and medieval houses were destroyed. Decades before the establishment of national monuments commissions, heritage laws and local societies for the conservation of historic buildings, these destructive changes made informed contemporaries acutely aware of the dilemma that urban improvements posed. In these contexts of cultural and urban change, the example of the Fountain provides a striking study of how successive generations of inhabitants of Paris tried to understand, reuse and eventually ensure that the past remained visible through making intelligible and conspicuous a monument that had become incomprehensible and inconspicuous. Threats to the city’s historic identity thus prompted efforts to conserve evidence of its historic grandeur.2 The approach adopted here is inspired by theoretical insights from different disciplines and authors. While taking a single built structure and asking how it has been interpreted over time follows the example of Bruno Latour’s reflections on the Pont Neuf, the idea of scrutinizing the layers of existence of an urban space and showing how these interacted follows Henri Lefebvre.3 In describing the culture in 3 which the Fountain was formed, used and re-formed, the article takes its cue from archaeology and anthropology, recognizing that even a simple form such as a stick can be used in diverse ways.4 Rather than thinking of the Fountain merely as the recipient of interventions, the article considers how it informed these and other interventions because human-object relations not only change objects, but can also change how humans think about and use objects.5 Applied to architecture and design, the study of these relations explores the contentious connection between form and function.6 The Fountain of the Innocents in 1549 The Fountain of the Innocents was created between 1547 and 1549 by the architect Pierre Lescot and the sculptor Jean Goujon.7 It replaced an early fountain and stood in the heart of the Right Bank at the intersection of the rue St Denis and rue aux Fers, alongside the Church and Cemetery of the Holy Innocents, near Les Halles market.8 It formed part of the spectacular decorative scheme commissioned by the city representatives and organized by Jean Martin and Thomas Sébillet for the ‘joyous entry’ of Henri II in June 1549. They spared little expense glorifying their king while reminding him that Paris was ‘the kingdom’s first city’ with the fiscal and cultural clout to stage an entry surpassing those into Lyon and Rouen. An ideal cityscape created inside Paris using ephemeral architecture showcased their mastery of the fashionable antique style.9 The Fountain was a station where Henri II paused and the corporation accompanying him changed from the spice-sellers to goldsmiths; it was decorated with foliage and, according to a contemporary account, its beauty was enhanced by the gentry and finely dressed ladies behind an ornate balustrade in its loggia.10 The Fountain’s design thus enabled them to see Henri II and be seen by him, thereby embodying the symbolism of the entry – an enactment in which the new monarch renewed urban privileges and cities promised obeisance. The entry provided the occasion to replace a medieval fountain with an ornate new one, but the Fountain was above all intended as an urban embellishment to improve the area and its water supply.11 This urban theme explains why contemporary accounts said less about the Fountain than decorations created solely for the entry and why it alone was a permanent structure made from limestone and designed to fit into existing urban tissue.12 The Fountain thus served two functions – 4 the one short term and ceremonial, the other long term and civic – that determined its location and unusual form. Pictorial representations (Figures 1 and 2 ) show an ornate structure on a rectangular plan that squared-off a street corner, meaning that it had just two visible sides. Its base contained the cistern; water sourced from Belleville was discharged through two lion-head mascaron taps under each arcade. Upon the base was a covered loggia-cum-grandstand, formed by three arcades, two facing the rue aux Fers and one facing the rue St Denis, each framed by double fluted-Corinthian pilasters and capitals. This unusual structure adapted the Roman triumphal arch; it partly resembled ephemeral fountains created elsewhere for joyous entries, but differed from earlier fountains in Paris. Goujon’s carved limestone bas-reliefs underlined the Fountain’s special status and enlivened its exterior, compensating for the modest discharge of water through conjuring up the illusion of an aquatic cornucopia. The five standing nymphs between the pilasters collectively conveyed movement and provided a rhythmic succession of variations. Goujon’s other bas reliefs were allegories of Fame for the spandrels (copied from the Arch of Titus), scenes of playful genie for the attic panels and groups of nymphs, genie, sea-monsters and a solitary adult male figure (Triton, messenger god of the sea) for the stylobate panels.13 The Fountain’s form and iconography corresponded to its functions. At first glance, they show how the Fountain was created for the entry and suggest that Lescot and Goujon co-ordinated their designs with the organizers and other contributors. Just as several carved decorations conveyed the city (symbolized by the ship) meeting the crown (symbolized by the fleur-de-lis, the ‘H’ and dolphins), other features and sculptures (mostly fecund females and jovial infants) alluded to several prominent themes in the entry: fertility, ‘abundance’ and mastery of fortune.14 More generally, the Fountain echoed forms – triumphal arches, fountains, allegories of water and nymphs refilling their vessels – that appeared elsewhere in the entry. Upon closer inspection, however, the Fountain’s form and iconography above all underscored the extent to which its creation was an assertion of municipal pride and confidence. Other decorations referenced France’s mythical origins, evoked ‘Force’ and represented Henri II through major deities, but Lescot and Goujon eschewed this repertoire. For its architecture, Lescot avoided the Doric and Roman Composite, which, according to Serlio, respectively evoked regal-masculine and militarytriumphal themes; Lescot instead used the Corinthian order, appropriate for ‘divine worship’, because, as the 5 inscription ‘Fontium nymphis ’ implied, he wished to create a temple for the nymphs. These minor divinities of the water evoked a Parisian or at least regional theme, rather than a royal one, because elsewhere in the entry’s programme nymphs were described as ‘daughters of the Seine’.15 Forms thus followed functions, but the Fountain’s civic purpose prevailed both in the entry and in the context of urban improvements. The afterlife of the Fountain Between the Fountain’s creation in 1549 and its deconstruction in 1787, it was perceived, represented, used and materially altered in different ways that reflected the real and imagined Paris cityscape, the availability of water and stylistic norms. Continuities and discontinuities in these layers of its existence require dividing this eventful ‘afterlife’ into three periods.16 The first spanned from 1549 to c . 1660. Though acclaimed as ‘one of the most beautiful [fountains] in Paris’ and even ‘one of the masterpieces of the world as a work of masonry and architecture’, there were few textual references to the Fountain because authors refrained from describing ‘that which one could still see’.17 Moreover, these authors provided few details – the fullest commentary simply mentioned the Fountain’s antique style, quality and sculptural richness – because their descriptions were in books about Paris ‘antiquities’ that treated monuments as products of reigns rather than subjects of stylistic analysis.18 Visual representations show artists saw the Fountain as part of the cityscape. While Cerceau included the houses to which the Fountain was attached (see Figure 1), Silvestre went further in critically exploring the Fountain’s place in Paris.19 His first etching juxtaposed the new ‘antique’ Fountain to the decrepit Gothic Church of the Innocents (Figure 2); though this notionally showed the Fountain as it stood, Silvestre’s representation of the surrounding area as ruinous wasteland was fictitious. His second transformed the Fountain into a freestanding edifice and transplanted it into an idealized Paris cityscape alongside an imagined pendant and the city’s other great monuments.20 Taken together, Silvestre’s prints suggest that he lamented the Fountain’s real location and believed that it merited being disengaged and relocated. Jean Marot – one of Silvestre’s collaborators – also articulated this urban theme in his drawing of the Fountain, which was anchored in real space through houses, bollards and the road.21 6 The Fountain’s functions evolved during this period. After 1549, the Fountain was never again used in an entry.22 During the Wars of Religion, it fell into disrepair and ceased to function as an urban embellishment and source of water. In the early 1600s, tradesmen created stalls inside and against the redundant structure; some even purchased leases and one candle seller attached iron hooks to create his own boutique. However, this opportunistic reuse ended in 1622 when the municipal government evicted the tradesmen and ordered the master of works to ‘repair’ the site to its original state. The authorities thus reasserted the Fountain’s function as a public monument ‘as much for the decoration of the city as the convenience (commodité) of the quarter’.23 Just as artists and writers admired the Fountain, then, the Paris administrative elites considered it a source of civic pride meriting protection. The second period in the Fountain’s afterlife spanned from c. 1660 to c.1740, during which perceptions changed in two ways. First, the Fountain became famous and was fulsomely praised: one authority admired its elegant proportions and masterful use of the Corinthian order; another compared Goujon’s sculptures to the Medici Venus, the most celebrated representation of female beauty. Santeul’s distich, inscribed in 1689, eulogized Goujon’s ability to create the illusion of waves.24This fame resulted from Bernini’s reputed belief that it was ‘the finest thing in all France’ and was amplified by the concurrent invention of the urban guidebook, the revived fortunes of Paris and France’s dominance in Europe.25 Second, printed descriptions conceptualized the Fountain as Goujon’s creation rather than a monument created under Henri II.26 This reflected a larger development in cultural appreciation through which the artist’s identity became more important than their patron or subject matter. But in this instance, the change was reinforced by misunderstandings surrounding the circumstances of its creation, which were difficult to imagine after the representational cultural politics of absolutism replaced the pseudo-constitutional ideology underpinning joyous entries. Ignorance of the historical record thus severed the Fountain’s connection with Henri II and left it synonymous with Goujon alone. This change meant that descriptions and representations treated the Fountain more as an artwork and downplayed the urban theme. Some writers now called it ‘the fountain of the nymphs’ rather than ‘the Innocents’ in order to dissociate it from the shocking sight and smell of the Cemetery and emphasize its formal qualities above its geographical location.27 Scotin and Pérelle framed their representations of the Fountain with empty spaces, deviating 7 from earlier artists’ attempts to treat it as an urban monument anchored in a concrete or an imagined cityscape.28 For artists and writers alike, then, the idea of the Fountain was preferred to the actual Fountain grounded in the city: it became what Voltaire described as ‘that admirable fountain that one sees so little’.29 The Fountain’s functions also evolved. In 1696, the municipal government transformed its loggia to make it ‘inhabitable’ as a residence that could be rented out – in the first instance on a thirty-year lease to Jeanne Carbon, the widow of a ‘bourgeois of Paris’. Detailed records of work undertaken show that to this end Jean Beausire – the inspector of municipal buildings – made extensive internal changes, installing three fireplaces, creating windows by glazing over the Fountain’s arcades, erecting multiple partitions over three floors; he also altered its roof and gutters to improve drainage. Although the government was prepared to alter the structure, unwritten heritage norms imposed limits on their extent. Beausire was therefore keen to report that he had made it ‘comfortable…without damaging anything’. In the same vein, the tenant was instructed not to ‘break, demolish, change or innovate anything through trying to make [the residence] more comfortable’. The loggia remained in this form until the Fountain was dismantled; in the mid eighteenth century, it was rented to a marchand-mercier, presumably for a boutique.30 In the early eighteenth century, new inscriptions commemorated improvements to the Fountain as a water source: one stated that it had been ‘improved to benefit inhabitants furthest from the river’ and the other celebrated its ‘sweet Naiad water’. This improvement was partly a matter of perception, since in Paris as a whole growing demand outstripped increased supply and worsened shortages, but it was also real because the Fountain’s output increased after its cistern was enlarged and water arrived via the new pump on the Pont Notre-Dame thanks to the ‘technical mini- revolution’ in hydraulics. Water now poured from all three mascaron taps on each side, although before long the increasing number of horsedrawn carriages led the municipality to close off the taps on the rue aux Fers side (Figure 3 ).31 Among inhabitants of Paris, the Fountain now functioned, to a greater extent than before, as a spatial landmark. Contracts between the municipal government and rubbish removers show that it was even a marker for dividing work.32 As a famous monument and site of socialization and news exchange at a busy junction, it punctuated Parisians’ mental map in a growing city with an increasingly mobile populace in which few owned paper maps, houses were not numbered and, until the 8 1730s, there were no signs for street names.33 If few locals saw the Fountain through the rarefied language of art, they must nevertheless have recognized that it was uniquely ornate compared to recent austere fountains and that it was a rare secular public monument containing few allusions to the monarchy. Indeed, such was local pride in the Fountain as a popular landmark that, until 1791, the municipal government was untroubled by the prospect of stone or metal being pilfered.34 These developments during the second period of the Fountain’s afterlife changed attitudes toward its material state. Previously, the Fountain had been repaired without fuss and for most of the seventeenth century commentators wrote nothing about its state beyond describing its sculptures being as good as new.35 But, in the 1690s, its ruination and the municipal government’s ‘criminal negligence’ became tropes.36 Since complaints continued even after repairs in 1708, these tropes probably resulted less from its actual ruination and more from sensitivity to signs of degradation once artists and writers perceived the Fountain as an irreplaceable artwork.37 Equally, the tropes were a proxy for criticizing the municipal government and crown after the former abandoned Paris for Versailles and the latter converted the Fountain’s loggia into a residence. The municipality previously chastised traders for damaging the Fountain; now enlightened public opinion chastised the municipality and refused to accept its monopoly over deciding upon alterations of famous public monuments. During the final period of the Fountain’s afterlife, between c. 1740 and 1787, perceptions became more critical and contradictory.38 Almost all accounts now acknowledged Lescot’s role and the perceived division of labour led authorities to consider separately its sculpture and architecture.39 While Goujon’s sculptures became canonical masterpieces, that helped promote him to the paper pantheon of great Frenchmen, Lescot’s design was criticized in ways that were characteristic of mideighteenth-century neo-classical architects’ intolerance of their Renaissance predecessors.40 Critics compared the Fountain unfavourably to spectacular seventeenth-century fountains in Rome and Versailles and new examples in Paris by Bouchardon and Soufflot. Lescot’s design fell short of new norms for public fountains, which were expected to use strong orders and superabundant water for aesthetic effect, embellish open spaces and combine architecture and sculpture harmoniously.41 By these standards, it was no fountain, merely ‘a square tower with windows between the pilasters’.42 For Blondel, the Fountain’s greatest critic, it 9 ‘sinned against convenance ’ because it failed to announce its purpose: its use of water, the Corinthian order and modest, delicate and affected sculptures was inappropriate for a public fountain.43 However, attitudes toward the Fountain were not simply more critical than before; they also became more divided. If authorities agreed that Goujon’s sculptures were the Fountain’s greatest attribute, there was no consensus whether or not they complemented its architecture. Some artists and writers considered its sculptures independent artwork to be described, copied and imitated while they ignored or criticized the rest of the Fountain.44 Others considered the Fountain one unified artwork, a ‘beautiful piece of sculpture’, or a monument meriting a finer location, praising the ‘agreement’ of its sculptures and architecture, its ‘beautiful form’ and ‘elegant simplicity’.45 The critique of those who admired the sculptures as discrete masterpieces was appositely captured in a satirical print that showed a connoisseur inspecting through a lorgnette the buttocks of the reclining nymph bas-relief, oblivious to the Fountain as a whole and its urban surroundings. Conventionally interpreted as an attack on La Font de Saint-Yenne, the print also poked fun at the tendency to inspect art created for open public places as though it had been created for close inspection in a cabinet.46 The trend toward seeing the Fountain as an artwork or series of masterpieces revised attitudes toward preserving its materiality. Repairs were previously dictated by the need to ensure its stability, water output, ‘newness value’ and the general legibility of its sculptures and inscriptions, but, in the mid-eighteenth century, there was a shift toward ‘conserving’ and sensitively restoring the Fountain. Symptomatic of this, in 1741, plans for further repairing the Fountain were aborted: since it was feared that resurfacing the Fountain would diminish ‘the beauty of the sculpture’, it was instead decided to ‘preserve for posterity this magnificent work without any alteration’.47 Even those who considered the Fountain itself one integrated artwork agreed that its sculptures should be prioritized over its architecture ‘if one must preserve one at the expense of the other’.48 The authenticity of the sculptures, measured through un-retouched traces of Goujon’s handiwork, was therefore now more important than their ‘newness’ and the overall integrity of the Fountain. If Silvestre and Voltaire previously hinted that the Fountain merited a finer location, during this period of its afterlife there were more concrete proposals for its future. While Blondel’s critique implied that the Fountain 10 could be demolished and its sculptures removed to a collection, Guillaume Poncet de la Grave – a lawyer and royal administrator who arrived in the capital in the early 1750s and wrote about its history and reform – recommended dismantling and rebuilding the Fountain in an area where it would function more effectively as an urban embellishment.49 Although the first to advocate moving the Fountain, Poncet’s thinking was urbanist rather than artistic or conservationist. Far from being entirely original, he repeated familiar demands for more fountains and for disengaging and even moving monuments so that they would be more effective as urban embellishments and roads could be widened.50 Dismantling and reusing the Fountain Between 1549 and 1787, perceptions and representations of the Fountain thus changed considerably in ways that influenced how it was used, adapted and repaired. There was little scope for radical changes, however, until 1785 when the Council of State ordered the creation of the market of the Innocents on the site of the Church and Cemetery. From this moment until its eventual reconstruction, the Fountain’s future was shaped by discourse about its qualities and flaws, norms for markets and fountains and expectations for preserving material remains that connected the city of the present to that of the past. The decree was intended to increase space for markets and prevent traders from obstructing traffic with their street stalls, but it was also a successful conclusion to century-long demands to remove insalubrious cemeteries from the city centre.51 Clearing the area posed obstacles: indemnifications, opposition to dissolving the parish of the Holy Innocents, the exhumation and transfer of human remains to a disused mine, the destruction of charnels, houses, most tomb monuments and the Church and the transfer of moveable religious artefacts to nearby churches and other sites.52 Once the destruction of the Church and houses became inevitable, rumours circulated about the Fountain. While one contemporary observer speculated in June 1786 that the plan must be ‘to conserve and pull it from the ruins of the church that it is backed up against’ because it ‘is one of the most beautiful pieces of sculpture in this capital’, another observer reported rumours in early 1787 that the authorities planned to remove Goujon’s sculptures and destroy what remained along with the ‘Gothic catacombs’.53 11 This last rumour was quite likely the default plan given recent criticism that the Fountain was merely a flawed frame for discrete masterpieces and given recent examples of removing sculptures from the Porte Saint-Antoine and Louis XIV monument on the Pont-au-Change. This rumoured plan was publicly criticized by ‘men of taste’ and artists. In one of several letters on the subject received by the editors of the city’s daily newspaper, the architectural theorist Quatremère de Quincy voiced his fear that ‘the authority overseeing improvements’ could, in its zeal for ‘public well-being’, commit ‘a barbarous attack’. Dividing the Fountain by removing its sculptures, he warned, was akin to destroying it because they formed a seamless whole with its architecture, for which they had been proportioned, drawn and executed. For Quatremère, the Fountain must be preserved whole: if it could not remain in situ, it should be moved in its entirety. In defending the Fountain, Quatremère argued that its critics overlooked the constraints that Lescot and Goujon had faced and that they wrongly assumed these artists had intended to create a modern fountain – with a strong order and superabundant water – rather than ‘a temple to the Nymphs of Fountains’. Quatremère agreed that its architecture was flawed, but argued that it nevertheless merited preserving as a ‘repository of past genius’.54 This opposition from Quatremère and others prompted the municipal government to scotch any plan to remove its sculptures but did not solve the dilemma of what to do with the Fountain. Once the Church and houses had been demolished it was left standing as an unsightly obstruction with two ‘unfinished’ sides, off-centred in the space intended for the market (see Figure 3).55 Over the following months, architects and engineers therefore proposed solutions for incorporating the Fountain into the planned market. Some recommended leaving it in situ and completing its ‘unfinished’ sides; a variant on this idea was to create a pendant structure on the other side of the market. However, most proposals recommended dismantling and relocating the Fountain nearby. One such proposal was to reconstruct it against a building on the south side of the market, thereby minimizing additional work and preserving its character as a monument attached to buildings. A final proposal from both the architect-engineer Charles Joseph Six and Quatremère was to reconstruct it in the market’s centre on a square plan, reusing its three arches and creating one for the fourth side. Quatremère recommended decorating this side through adapting comparable bas-reliefs executed by Goujon for the Old Louvre: this provided ‘themeans to stand in for Jean Goujon through Jean Goujon’. He later reasoned that 12 one should restore the Fountain to how it ought to have been and that Goujon must have originally intended a freestanding structure.56 In order to assess these proposals, Breteuil, minister of the royal household with responsibility for Paris, assembled a commission of architects, engineers and artists. (Though technically a municipal prerogative, decisions concerning the Fountain were taken by the minister and executed by the lieutenant general of police.)57 The commission – probably chaired by Bernard Poyet, the chief municipal architect and Breteuil’s protégé – preferred Six and Quatremère’s idea because its priorities were economy, traffic circulation and meeting expectations, normal since the 1760s, for a central fountain in the market.58 However, the commission dismissed Quatremère’s proposal to add new sculptures as expensive and insensitive to the originals, like adding ‘an act to one of Racine’s finest tragedies’. Respect for the original, budget constraints and the need to transform an irregular obstruction into a useful, symmetrical embellishment for the market thus shaped the commission’s thinking.59 The solution squared contrary imperatives to preserve old monuments while making urban improvements, to respect the Fountain’s original qualities while adapting it to meet modern expectations. In July and August, necessary legal measures were fulfilled, the crown agreed to bear costs and the operation was entrusted to Poyet under the general direction of Legrand and Molinos, the architects responsible for overseeing the quarter’s transformation. The municipal government approved Poyet’s design and the lieutenant general of police instructed him ‘to undertake…all necessary work for the translation of the fountain of the innocents to the centre of the new market’, namely dismantling the existing structure (taking care to ‘conserve the bas reliefs and precious sculptures’), laying foundations, creating the new base and reconstructing the modified Fountain.60 Independent building experts first numbered each stone in chalk to facilitate its reconstruction and cast the sculptures to guide repairs before they set about carefully dismantling the Fountain at the end of September. The operation was largely successful, though the nymphs’ feet were slightly damaged.61 Until March 1788, components from the original Fountain were stored while work was undertaken to prepare the site and ornamental sculptors created features for the new design.62 Although the commission had opposed adding new bas-reliefs, Poyet now persuaded Breteuil that new pieces were necessary. Just as he probably 13 now realized that the fourth side would appear monotonous with only inscriptions and coats of arms, he also belatedly grasped that the remaining three sides required six standing nymphs when the original Fountain only needed five. They therefore asked Auguste Pajou to produce four pieces: for the new, south side, a bas-relief panel for its attic and two copies of Goujon’s Fame figures for the spandrels; for the west side, a standing nymph to stand alongside one of Goujon’s, which, they insisted, must conform ‘to the style of Goujon’ and respect the Fountain’s ‘harmony’. Pajou sought permission to erect scaffolding against the Old Louvre so that he could cast and adapt Goujon’s Peace .63 When the Fountain was assembled between March and August 1788, new and old stones were alternated in order to disguise their tonal difference. But this gave the new structure a peculiar speckled appearance and led to it being painted in 1791 to make it seem tonally uniform.64 During its assemblage, Poyet and Breteuil commissioned two additional standing nymphs for the south side, perhaps because of the quality of Pajou’s first works or because the south side appeared incongruous without them. Over spring 1788, Pajou therefore quickly executed pastiches, combining features and reversing poses from Goujon’s originals.65 In summer, the inscription was confirmed and these last bas reliefs were inserted.66 A visual representation dated 1788 implies that it discharged water – that, as before, came from the Seine – before the end of the year and certainly before the market opened in February 1789.67 The operation’s cost was not documented, partly because Poyet and others involved received an annual stipend for their services, but the overall cost was undoubtedly substantial. Known costs included 9,000 livres promised to Pajou for his bas-reliefs and 4,000 livres to Lhuillier and Daujon for two bronze medusa heads – by comparison, David received 6,000 livres for The Oath of the Horatii (1784).68 Given the fiscal crisis, the crown’s willingness to fund a satisfactory urban and heritage solution betrays the importance that it attached to the Fountain. The new Fountain of the Innocents The new Fountain (Figure 4) functioned differently to the old. Some functions were novel; others modified its earlier functions. At the most tangible levels, the Fountain continued to function as an urban embellishment that beautified the city and 14 discharged water, but unlike the original, it was also a château d’eau, providing a reservoir for surrounding fountains.69 And, unlike the original that was compromised by existing urban tissue, the new Fountain dominated the market and dictated the design of its stalls.70 While equestrian or monumental statues of kings provided a central focus for the traditional Paris place, the new Fountain provided a comparable yet more useful and politically expedient alternative for the market square. The new structure also fulfilled a heritage function of sorts: it selectively reused the original and ensured that the Fountain, albeit much altered, remained in the open and satisfied demands that such ‘inalienable property’ of the Paris public must exist for ‘the decoration of the city’.71 For the crown, this presented an opportunity to demonstrate the regime’s competence when its purported neglect of famous monuments provided a convenient proxy for attacking political misrule. In this respect, the new Fountain demonstrated the crown’s custodianship over what had hitherto been a famous Paris rather than national monument. It was overseen and underwritten by the crown as part of its cultural programme to present the monarch as the custodian of the patrie who fostered, rather than personally embodied, national greatness and who collected and protected signs of France’s illustrious past. Finding a solution for the Fountain reflected the crown’s interests both in protecting certain historic monuments – at this time, it also contributed toward disengaging and restoring the Arènes in Nîmes – and in collecting French Renaissance artwork for the planned national museum.72 An unintended and yet important function of the new Fountain was for ceremonies. The original Fountain was created for a ceremonial occasion, but never reused for one. By contrast, the Fountain of 1788, created for no particular ceremony, was used for a diverse range of ceremonies from the Revolution to the Second Empire. Its broad appeal lay partly in its location, but also in the fact that it carried few discernible iconographic messages and was associated with Goujon and the nation rather than any particular regime. Revealingly, during the Commune, the Fountain was protected while the Vendôme Column and Tuileries Palace were destroyed.73 The new Fountain thus served different functions, which determined its location and shaped its form. Poyet and his co-creators were innovative in using new bas-reliefs and decorative features, but much about the new Fountain’s form was predictable, responding to criticism of the original, norms for modern fountains and expectations that great urban monuments should be disengaged highlights in the cityscape. An alternative design (Figure 5), probably by Sobre, helps distinguish what 15 in Poyet’s design was pre-determined by his brief and what was his own visual choice. This design also anticipated later criticism of Poyet’s design: it suggested a shorter and simpler Fountain, without any cupola roof or additional ornamental sculptures, that prioritized displaying Goujon’s sculptures without distraction.74 Visual representations, photographs, printed descriptions and archival evidence allow us to analyse the new Fountain that until 1858 stood in the market. Poyet transformed the Fountain from a Renaissance grandstand with several water outlets into a freestanding monumental fountain. He placed this massive, symmetrical, four-sided structure in the centre of the new, trapezoid-shaped market. In response to criticism of the original, Poyet compensated for the lack of a strong or rustic order by creating a more archaic, monumental structure through other means. He made the new Fountain taller – 14 and a half metres to the original 12 – so that it towered over the market.75 Its main body was raised upon a starkly simple, quasi-pyramidal three- tiered stone base that contained its plumbing and reservoir and gave it a more archaic appearance. Poyet reinforced this archaism with ornamental features created in Lhullier’s studio: lead basins with lion-claw feet, adapted from ancient sarcophagi; lead lion-sculptures (after the Egyptian granite originals in the Acqua Felice, Rome) and two cast-bronze Medusa-head roundels. Other architectural features, supplied by Mézières, included a coffered rotunda dome for the space between the arcades, which evoked the interior of the Roman Pantheon, and a cupola roof covered in fish-scale tiles.76 In response to criticism of the original, Poyet also placed water at the centre of his design. The new design still provided water for drinking and cleaning. But, in keeping with expectations for public fountains, the new Fountain also used water for audio-visual effect; water was thrust upward from the cistern through the lead font between the arcades; it then landed noisily into the small reservoir at the font’s base. Water from this reservoir and the lions’ mouths then filled the basins. There was obvious continuity in the new Fountain’s use of bas-reliefs, but their appearance, meaning and place in the ensemble changed subtly. Although the new Fountain itself was much more conspicuous than the original, the bas-reliefs were further from the eye and now competed for viewers’ attention with other decorative features. In the original, all standing nymphs could be compared from a single viewpoint: they collectively provided a succession of variations that conveyed movement while they laboured to carry and pour water. But, in the new Fountain, it was impossible to see more than two sides from one viewpoint and all but one side 16 juxtaposed an urn-carrying figure with an oar-carrying figure. Although superficially comparable, Pajou’s nymphs were stationary and heroic guardians of the Fountain; they were designed for a monumental fountain with abundant water, whereas Goujon’s fluid figures had been designed as allegories of abundance for a delicate loggia-cum-fountain. Pajou’s finest contribution was for the south-facing attic: his amours and genies with shells and dolphins were more naturalistic and playful and his children were more plump and plastic than Goujon’s.77 The new Fountain was, on balance, an intelligent response to the functions that it was expected to fulfil. The chosen solution reflected the consensus that the only means to preserve the Fountain as a public monument was to remake it while its new monumental form and use of water meant that the new structure successfully functioned as an urban embellishment and a focal point for the market. However, its forms corresponded imperfectly with its new functions because it was an adaptation: the original contained an iconographic programme that we can decode, but its successor only conveyed muted messages alluding to water deities and Paris. Praise for the new Fountain and Goujon’s sculptures over the next decades was therefore expressed in purely formal terms.78 The new Fountain’s form also did very little to convey the crown’s interest in the project. Although the crown underwrote the project, it carried fewer royal connotations than the original. Poyet’s design no longer conveyed a triumphal, regal arch and, rather than glorifying Louis XVI, the new inscription merely listed the principal magistrates and artists involved in its creation. The original royal decorative symbols remained until 1793, although they were less visible and there was no suggestion to update the ‘H’ to an ‘L’.79 By the standards of the time, Poyet successfully balanced competing imperatives to respect the original while transforming it into a modern fountain for a new urban setting. This explains why opinion was entirely positive for the next 20 years.80 Hubert Robert’s caprice painting showed the new Fountain alongside the city’s other finest monuments and throughout the Revolutionary-Napoleonic period administrators in Paris listed it among the monuments most meriting protection.81 Published descriptions compared Pajou’s sculptures to Goujon’s and deemed Poyet’s design ‘ingenious and economical’, ‘even more elegant’ than the original. None complained that displacing, reconfiguring and adding features undermined the original’s authenticity.82 However, attitudes changed after 1809 when the increased water supply 17 transformed it into ‘a liquid mountain’.83 The superabundance of water helped the Fountain become a popular picturesque favourite and Poyet claimed that the change corresponded to his original intention to ‘recall the beautiful cascades of Rome’.84 But it also damaged the bas-reliefs and necessitated creating a square basin around the base. Critics now lamented not only its excessive water but also its colossal base and mixture of old and new sculptures.85 The transformation of Les Halles during the Second Empire stimulated proposals for displacing and remaking the Fountain once again in ways that respected the original of 1549.86 Gabrielle Davioud heeded much of this, but its perceived value nevertheless sank further. Set against new expectations for what constituted authenticity the twice-moved Fountain was considered ‘unrecognizable’, ‘completely reconstructed’, ‘disfigured’, ‘incongruous’ and ‘no longer anything but a modified monument’.87 Conclusion This article has shown how the Fountain’s form and function changed and how these changes were intertwined with how it was perceived and altered. Between the 1550s and 1770s, uses and perceptions of the Fountain changed with limited ramifications for its form. The new circumstances of the 1780s meant, however, that these revised uses and perceptions were soon brought to bear on how the Fountain was saved and reconfigured. Latour’s Pont Neuf experienced gradual, constant change and renewal, but monuments such as the Fountain changed in fits and starts. The layers of its existence evolved at different rates in ways that suggest that the historical relationship between the form and function of urban monuments is one of complex reciprocity. If form initially follows function, the afterlife of monuments such as the Fountain shows that the same form can be used for new functions and that these functions in turn can alter their form. Through looking closely at a single example over an extended period, the article has suggested how the nature of early modern urban monumentality developed. This is apparent from how artists and authors of written commentaries imagined the Fountain’s place in the Paris cityscape. As the first two sections showed, artists initially represented the Fountain anchored in physical space. But, between the mid-seventeenth century and the eve of its deconstruction, their successors shunned this approach and instead depicted the Fountain as a stand-alone artwork, framed by empty space and disconnected from any trace of the city. If the local populace 18 regarded the Fountain as a tangible landmark and water source without perceiving it as Lescot and Goujon’s masterpiece, enlightened public opinion during the eighteenth century perceived it more as an idea than an actual urban monument: this was partly because the cult of Goujon was as much about the ‘cult of the nation’ as real examples of his work, but above all because the conditions for viewing the Fountain and its sculptures were unappealing.88 As an idea, the Fountain was less grounded in the quarter of the Innocents and it became easier to imagine and even propose moving it somewhere more visible in the city or destroying its structure and preserving its bas-reliefs. As parts three and four showed, reconfiguring the Fountain as a centre- point for the market refocused attention upon it as an urban monument in an imagined and then actual space. In this respect, at least, the new Fountain resembled the original Fountain during the first period of its afterlife. Revealingly, after 1787, almost all visual representations returned to the earlier tradition of depicting it as an integral part of the city. The starting point for this article was the question of how inhabitants of changing cities reconcile the city of the past with that of the future. The findings presented here have implications for the history of urban heritage and, in particular, how we understand the patrimonialization of Paris. Most obviously, they suggest that conservationist efforts predated the conventional ‘rise of heritage’ with the nineteenth-century European nation-state. The fact that the Fountain was spared from destruction in 1787 was, moreover, no isolated precursor to later heritage efforts. It was one of many manifestations of the sense of metropolitan heritage in Paris during the second half of the eighteenth century – a time when public opinion feared that ‘the destructive hammer’ of urban improvers and builders risked severing any connection between present-day Paris and the city of their ancestors.89 If public construction of housing in Paris during the last decades of the ancien régime favoured ‘newness’ over ‘reuse’, interventions to save from destruction monuments such as the Fountain point to the appetite for reusing monuments and even the desire to move and adapt them.90 Rather than merely backdating the start of ‘heritage’, however, the example of the Fountain suggests that there was no clear dividing line between pre- and post heritage-minded societies. A more fruitful approach is to examine how built structures were used and altered over time and to ask what these changes reveal about attitudes toward their materiality.91 During a period when many built structures were razed without any opposition on heritage grounds, this study of the Fountain shows that some were nevertheless deemed worth preserving. If there was little attempt during 19 the early modern period to spell out the criteria for determining the worth of monuments or the conventions limiting their uses, the example of the Fountain suggests that criteria and conventions were nevertheless collectively articulated by enlightened public opinion and through the views and practices of the municipal government and crown. These criteria and conventions crystallized when controversy arose. During the seventeenth century, the municipal government dictated material interventions, first repairing the Fountain to its original state as an urban embellishment after decades of dereliction and then adapting its loggia while carefully respecting its exterior surface. But, during the eighteenth century, enlightened public opinion chastised the authorities, first for negligence, then for planning to resurface the Fountain and alter its sculptures and finally for the purported plan to remove its sculptures and destroy the remaining structure. Over the period studied, then, the nature of power relations for determining legitimate material inventions changed, just as these interventions moved from ‘repair’ toward ‘conserving’ and from prioritizing its functionality as a public fountain toward prioritizing its aesthetic-cultural functionality. In the case of the Fountain, however, there was no straightforward progress from ‘improvement’ to ‘authenticity’.92 Indeed, successive attitudes towards the Fountain’s authenticity underline the extent to which authenticity itself is a historically conditioned concept. In 1787, the Fountain was spared because it had undergone few material alterations over its afterlife and was therefore considered an authentic original that documented the period of its creation. By contrast, the medieval Church of the Holy Innocents was destroyed without any opposition on historic or artistic grounds because it had been repeatedly changed, consolidated and repaired to the point that the senior hierarchy of the Church considered it a vile, bastard structure that belonged to no period in particular.93 Poyet’s redesign of the Fountain was initially praised as a means of preserving its authenticity as an open-air monument and the work of Lescot and Goujon. Conventions at the time dictated that it was acceptable to alter its design and add new features even if it was unacceptable to remove the sculptures and destroy the Fountain or add new bas-reliefs that might disrupt its ‘harmony’. This satisfied expectations for authenticity when thinking about urban heritage centred on individual urban monuments as highlights in the cityscape rather than treating the city itself as the subject of patrimonialization, but ceased to do so later in the nineteenth century when expectations changed. The reconfigured 20 Fountain was therefore dismissed as inauthentic once authenticity included use of original building materials and respect for urban context. Notes ∗ The research for this article was made possible by a Leverhulme Trust Early Career Fellowship. I thank the editors of the journal besides the many friends, colleagues and seminar attendees who provided constructive criticism of earlier drafts and papers. I am especially grateful to Stephen Bann for first suggesting the subject and to Colin Jones for his mentorship, expertise and patience. 1 I. Calvino, Invisible Cities, trans. W.Weaver (London, 1974), 106–7. 2 S. Van Damme, Métropoles de papier. Naissance de l’archéologie urbaine à Paris et à Londres (XVIIe–XXe siècle) (Paris, 2012), 12–15, 94. 3 B. Latour and E. Hermant, Paris ville invisible (Paris, 1998), Plan 52; H. Lefebvre, The Production of Space, trans. D. Nicholson-Smith (Oxford, 1991), 33. 4 B. Malinowski, Collected Works, vol. X, ed. R. Firth (London, 1935), 20. 5 C. Gosden and Y. Marshall, ‘The cultural biography of objects’,World Archaeology, 31 (1999), 169–78. 6 A. Rossi, The Architecture of the City, trans. D. Ghirado and J. Ockman (Cambridge, MA, 1984), 46–8. 7 On their collaboration, see G. Leproux, ‘Histoire de Paris’, Annuaire de l’École pratique des hautes études, section des sciences historiques et philologiques, 143 (2012), 229–34; idem, ‘Jean Goujon et la sculpture funéraire’, in H. Zerner and M. Bayard (eds.), Renaissance en France, Renaissance française? (Paris, 2009), 117–29. 8 On the area, see M. Fleury and G. Leproux (eds.), Les Saints-Innocents (Paris, 1990). For simple maps showing the Fountain’s locations and surroundings between 1550 and 1877, see https://repository.library.brown.edu/studio/item/bdr:86322/, accessed 30 Jul. 2016. 9 I. Macfarlane, The Entry of Henri II into Paris, 16 June 1549 (New York, 1982); P. Usher, Epic Arts in the French Renaissance (Oxford, 2013), 15, 121; S. Beguin, ‘Quelques remarques sur les artistes de l’entrée de Henri II’, in H. Oursel and J. Fritsch (eds.), Henri II et les arts (Paris, 2003), 135–54. 10 P. Guerin (ed.), Registres des deliberations du bureau de la ville de Paris, vol. III (Paris, 1886), 175. 11 It followed recent efforts to improve the flow ofwater from Belleville to the earlier fountain on the same site – see Archives nationales, France (AN), K 955, no. 11, and Q1 1109, doss. ‘Fontaines publiques’, ordinances dated 6 Aug. 1538 and 25 Sep. 1540. On the wider context, see M. Baudouin-Matuszek, ‘Le domaine royale à Paris’, in Oursel and Fritsch (eds.),Henri II et les arts, 105; AN,Q1 1109 and K 955, no. 11; P. Cebron de Lisle and P. Smith, ‘Paris en quête d’eau’, in D. Massounie et al. (eds.), Paris et ses fontaines: de la Renaissance à nos jours (Paris, 1995), 14. 12 Guerin (ed.), Registres, vol. III, 164–71; J. Chartrou, Les entrées solennelles et triomphales à la Renaissance (1484–1551) (Paris, 1928), 99; ‘Rapport présenté par M. Charles Sellier sur 21 l’enquête ordonnée par Colbert en 1678’, in Procès-verbal de la Commission municipale du vieux Paris, 3 (1898), 16. 13 This description selectively borrows from P. Colombier, Jean Goujon (Paris, 1949), 56–69; N. Miller, ‘The form and meaning of the Fontaine des Innocents’, Art Bulletin, 50 (1968), 270–7; J. Thirion, ‘La Fontaine des Nymphes’, in Fleury and Leproux (eds.), Les Saints-Innocents, 121–43; D. Rabreau, ‘Sculpture et iconographie’, in Massounie et al. (eds.), Paris et ses fontaines, 151–2; H. Zerner, Renaissance Art in France. The Invention of Classicism (Paris, 2003), 174, 187, 190–1, 434–5. 14 Macfarlane, The Entry of Henri II, 32–5. 15 Guerin (ed.), Registres, vol. III, 164–71; S. Serlio, Sebastiano Serlio on Architecture, trans. V. Hart and P. Hicks, vol. II (New Haven, 2001), xxxvii, 270. 16 The concept of ‘afterlife’ comes fromW. Benjamin, ‘The task of the translator’, in M. Bullock and M. Jennings (eds.), Walter Benjamin: Selected Writings, vol. I: 1913–1926 (Cambridge, MA, 1996), 256. This section nuances E. Pommier, ‘Une intervention de Quatremère de Quincy’, in Fleury and Leproux (eds.), Les Saints-Innocents, 145–9. 17 A. du Chesne, Les antiqvitez et recherches des villes, casteavx, et places plus remarquables de toute la France (Paris, 1609), part 2, 796; J. Du Breul, Le theatre des antiquités de Paris (Paris, 1612), book 3, 790; S. Bouquet, Bref et sommaire recueil de ce qui a este´faict, & de l’ordre tenu¨e a`la ioyeuse & triumphante entree de tres-puissant, tres-magnanime & tres-chrestien Prince Charles IX (Paris, 1572), 30. 18 G. Corrozet, Antiquitez, croniques et singularitez de Paris (Paris, 1581), 264. 19 Zerner, Renaissance Art, 182. 20 I. Silvestre, Liure de diuerses perspectiues et paisages faits sur le naturel (Paris, 1650), title page. 21 Nationalmuseum, Stockholm: NMH CC2217. 22 The Fountain was used for the entry of 1571 but merely provided water for a nearby sculpture group – Bouquet, Bref et sommaire recueil, 30. 23 AN, Q1 1109, doss. ‘Fontaines publiques’, ordinances dated 1 Oct. and 29 Oct. 1622. 24 A. d’Aviler, Cours d’architecture qui comprend les ordres de Vignole (Paris, 1700), 80; G. Brice, Nouvelle description de la ville de Paris, vol. I (Paris, 1725), 492; F. Haskell and N. Penny, Taste and the Antique: The Lure of Classical Sculpture 1500–1900 (New Haven, 1981), 40, 56; M. Tesson, ‘Matériaux pour servir a l’établissement du casier archéologique et artistique’, in Procès-verbaux de la Commission municipale du vieux Paris (Paris, 1922), 58. 25 P. Fréart de Chantelou, Journal du voyage du cavalier Bernin en France, ed. L. Lalanne (Paris, 1885), 42. Bernini’s purported description was, in fact, an exaggeration of Fréart’s words, which were then misattributed to the Italian by G. Brice, Description nouvelle de ce qu’il y a de plus remarquable dans la ville de Paris, vol. I (Paris, 1685), 82; N. Saugrain, Les curiositez de Paris (Paris, 1716), 29, and others. On guidebooks, see G. Chabaud et al. (eds.), Les guides imprimés du XVIe au XXe siècle (Paris, 2000), 59–80. 26 This started with A. Félibien, Entretiens sur les vies et sur les ouvrages des plus excellens peintres anciens et modernes (Paris, 1674), 64; Le Maire, Paris ancien et nouveau, vol. II (Paris, 1685), 22 431; P. Monier, Histoire des arts qui ont rapport au dessin (Paris, 1698), 314. 27 L. Morery, Le grand dictionnaire historique, vol. IV (Paris, 1707), 154; M. Lister, A Journey to Paris in the Year 1698 (London, 1699), 56. 28 G. Pérelle, Vues des belles maisons de France (Paris, 1693); J. Scotin print in Brice, Nouvelle description (1725 edn) – Scotin’s original drawing is in the Bibliothèque nationale de France, département Estampes et photographie. 29 Voltaire, Le temple du gout [1731], in N. Cronk (ed.), The Complete Works of Voltaire, vol. IX (Oxford, 1999), 169. 30 AN, Q1 1182: Beausire’s report of 30 Aug. 1696 detailing work undertaken; various lease contracts dated 23 Jan. 1715, 2 Aug. 1743 and 25 Jun. 1746. 31 AN, K1025, doss. 6; J. Blondel, Architecture françoise, vol. III (Paris, 1754), plate 308; D. Garrioch, The Making of Revolutionary Paris (Los Angeles, 2002), 221; D. Roche, A history of everyday things (Cambridge, 2000), 154; Y. Carbonnier, Maisons parisiennes des Lumières (Paris, 2012), 439. 32 Bibliothèque nationale de France (BnF), Joly de Fleury papers, Assemblies de police, 1321, 26–9. 33 Garrioch, The Making of Revolutionary Paris, 237–8. 34 I. Dérens, ‘Un siècle d’édiles parisiens: Jean Beausire et sa lignée’, in Massounie et al. (eds.), Paris et ses fontaines, 132–42; AN, AFII 48, no. 167, letters from Bailly to de Goudio dated 24 Sep. and 13 Oct. 1791. 35 Chesne, Les antiqvitez, book 3, 790; Breul, Le théâtre des antiquitez, 1071; C. Malingre, Les antiquites de la ville de Paris (Paris, 1640), book 3, 797; Le Maire, Paris ancien et nouveau, vol. II, 431–7. 36 G. Brice, Description nouvelle de la ville de Paris, vol. I (Paris, 1698), 235; Brice, Nouvelle description (1725 edn), 493; Saugrain, Les curiositez, 29–30. 37 AN, K1025, doss. 6. 38 The shift is obscured by commentaries that copied descriptions from the previous period of its afterlife, such as G. Le Rouge, Les curiositez de Paris, vol. I (Paris, 1742), 230; A. Dézallier d’Argenville, Voyage pittoresque de Paris (Paris, 1749), 121–2; and Voyage pittoresque de Paris (Paris, 1757), 156; J. Piganiol de la Force, Description historique de la ville de Paris et de ses environs, vol. III (Paris, 1765), 306–8; Almanach parisien (Paris, 1772), 70–1; Nugent, Grand Tour, vol. IV (London, 1778), 79–80; L. Thiery, Guides des amateurs, vol. I (Paris, 1787), 78; Anon., Almanach Parisien (Paris, 1789), 174. 39 This started in the 1720s (for instance in Brice, Nouvelle description, 492) and was widely accepted by the 1740s. 40 On Goujon’s sculptures, see D. Diderot, ‘Salon de 1767’, Oeuvres, vol. IV (Paris, 1996), 530; J. Barry, The Works of James Barry, vol. I (London, 1809), 33; D. Massounie, Les monuments de l’eau: aqueducs, châteaux d’eau et fontaines dans la France urbaine, du règne de Louis XIV à la Révolution (Paris, 2009), 116; A.West, From Pigalle to Préault: neoclassicism and the sublime in French sculpture, 1760–1840 (Cambridge, 1998), ch. 6; A. Poulet et al. (eds.), Clodion 1738– 23 1814 (Paris, 1992), 19. On Goujon as a national hero equal to Italianmasters, see J. Lacombe, Dictionnaire portative des beaux-arts (Paris, 1759), 285; F. Milizia, Le vite de piu celebri architetti d’ogni nazione e d’ogni tempo (Rome, 1768), 256; F. Blondel, Homme du monde éclaire par les arts, vol. II (Paris, 1774), 232; L. de Bonafous, Dictionnaire des artistes ou notice historique et raisonnee des architectes, vol. I (Paris, 1776), 651; A. Dezallier d’Argenville, Vies des fameux architectes depuis la renaissance des arts, vol. I (Paris, 1787), vi. 41 J. Barrier, ‘Fontaines et embellissements de la capitale’, in Massounie et al. (eds.), Paris et ses fontaines, 125–30; Massounie, Les monuments, 47. 42 M. Laugier, Essai sur l’architecture (Paris, 1753), 190. 43 Blondel, Architecture françoise, vol. III, 7–9, 226; Journal des Savants (Jan. 1755), 27–9; ‘P.’, ‘Fontaines’, in D. Diderot and M. d’Alembert (eds.), Encyclopédie, ou dictionnaire raisonne des sciences, des arts et des metiers, vol. VII (Paris, 1757), 96; Dezallier d’Argenville, Vies, 470. 44 See eighteenth-century references in nn. 40 and 43. 45 See, for instance, L. Bachaumont, Essai sur la peinture, la sculpture et l’architecture (Paris, 1751), 62–3; M. Pidansat de Mairobert and M. d’Angerville et al. (eds.), Mémoires secrets pour servir à l’histoire de la République des lettres en France depuis 1762 jusqu’à nos jours, vol. XXXII (London, 1788), entry 20 Jun. 1786, 119. 46 Reproduced and discussed in T. Crow, Painters and Public Life in Eighteenth-Century Paris (New Haven, 1985), 9. Caylus has been attributed with its composition – Gazette des beauxarts, 4 (1857), 50;Watelet engraved the first version around 1753. 47 Blondel, Architecture françoise, vol. III, 9. 48 A. Quatremère de Quincy, ‘Aux auteurs du journal’, Journal de Paris, 42, 11 Feb. 1787, 181. 49 Blondel, Architecture françoise, vol. III, 7–9, 226; idem, L’homme du monde eclaire par les arts, vol. II (Paris, 1774), 232–3; G. Poncet de la Grave, Projet des Embellissments de la Ville et Faubourgs de Paris, vol. I (Paris, 1756), 190–1; N. Papayanis, Planning Paris before Haussmann (London, 2004), 22–3, 28. 50 For earlier examples of these demands, see, for instance, Voltaire, ‘Des embellissements de Paris’ [1749], in Oeuvres de Voltaire, vol. XXIX (Paris, 1830), 101; É. La Font de Saint-Yenne, L’Ombre du grand Colbert (Paris, 1752), 336–7; Gresset, ‘Epitre a monsieur de Tournehem’ in L. de Bachaumont, Essai sur la peinture, la sculpture, et l’architecture (1752 edn), 127–33. 51 Archives de Paris (AP), D1Z, box 59, ‘Innocents (Square de)’, 139, Arrêt du Conseil, 9 Nov. 1785; Thiery, Guide des amateurs, vol. I (1787 edn), 479; L. Brockliss and C. Jones, The Medical World of Early Modern France (Oxford, 1997), 753. 52 AN, L656, no. 53, Z10 222, Z1J 1151; J. Thouret, Rapport sur les exhumations du cimetière et de l’église des Saints-Innocents (Paris, 1789); L. Hericart de Thury, Description des catacombs de Paris (Paris, 1815), 173–5. 53 De Mairobert and d’Angerville et al. (eds.), Mémoires secrets, vol. XXXII, entry 20 Jun. 1786, 119–20; Quatremère, ‘Aux auteurs du journal’, 181. 54 Quatremère, ‘Aux auteurs du journal’, 181–3. 55 Journal de Paris, 42, 11 Feb. 1787, 183; A. Pajou, ‘Aux auteurs du journal’, Journal de Paris, 24 50, 19 Feb. 1787, 217–18. 56 ‘Avis sur la fontaine des innocents’, 9 Jul. 1787, in F. de Lasteyrie, ‘Document inédit sur la Fontaine des Innocents’, Correspondence litteraire, 12 (1860), 272–5; A. Quatremère de Quincy, ‘Goujon’, Encyclopédie méthodique: architecture, vol. II (Paris, 1820), 475–6. Six was first credited with this proposal in C. Landon (ed.), Annales du Musée et de l’École moderne des beaux-arts, vol. I (Paris, 1803), 110–12. 57 R. Rampelberg, Le ministre de la maison du roi, 1783–88: Baron de Breteuil (Paris, 1975), 239–45; Poyet, ‘Aux mêmes’, Journal de Paris, 262, 9 Sep. 1809, 1868. 58 A. Chastel et al., ‘Les Halles de Paris’, Le Bulletin monumentale, 127 (1967), 76. 59 ‘Avis sur la fontaine des innocents’, 272–5. 60 H. Monin (ed.), L’état de Paris en 1789 (Paris, 1889), 366; AN, F13 1013, doss. 34, letter from De Crosne to Poyet headed ‘Translation de la fontaine des innocents’, copy dated 25 Jun. 1793 from the original of 18 Aug. 1787. 61 AN, Z1H 336A, details of the meeting of the Bureau de la ville de Paris, dated 27 Sep. 1787; H. Stein, Augustin Pajou (Paris, 1912), 108; Millart and C. Pécoul, ‘Procès-verbal du déplacement de la Fontaine des Innocents’ – cited R. Schneider, Quatremère de Quincy et son intervention dans les arts (1788–1830) (Paris, 1910), 26–7. 62 J. Dulaire, Histoire physique, civile, et morale de Paris, vol. V (Paris, 1821), 483; AN, F13 1013, doss. 34. Poyet letter dated 5 Jun. year 2; AN, F13 212, doss. ‘Fontaine des Innocents 1787’; AN, F17 1265 and F21*2470, no. 60, 1920, containing multiple documents dated 1792–96 concerning disputes over ornaments; Bibliothèque historique de la ville de Paris (BHVP), NA, MS 182, fol. 169, Belanger letter to prefect of the Seine dated 26 Oct. 1806. 63 AN, O1 1919/3, 245, Pajou letter to d’Angiviller dated 11 Oct. 1787; AN, O1 1180, 568, d’Angiviller letter to Pajou dated 14 Nov. 1787. 64 L. Batissier and J. Dulaire, Histoire de Paris et de ses monuments, par Dulaure. Nouvelle édition, refondue et complétée jusqu’à nos jours (Paris, n.d. [1846]), 284; AN, O1 499, fols. 181, 192, 212, 319; AP, D1 Z59, doss. ‘Innocents, square de’, no. 141. 65 BHVP, MS 1212, fol. 15, Pajou letter to Bailly dated 15 Nov. 1789; Stein, Pajou, 371–83. The commission had two phases, contrary to Pajou’s version of events when he demanded payment. 66 AN, O1 499, fols. 212 (Breteuil to Poyet, 11 Apr. 188), 320 (Breteul to Thiroux de Crosne, 7 Jun. 1788). 67 Tesson, ‘Matériaux’, 59; F. and L. Lazare, Dictionnaire administratif et historique des rues et monuments de Paris (Paris, [1855] 1994), 433; P. Grégoire, Fontaine des Innocents (1788), BnF, département Estampes et photographie; AP, D12 59. 68 BHVP, MS 1212, fol. 15; AN, F13 212. 69 Tesson, ‘Matériaux’, 59. 70 Poyet’s scheme was represented in a pen and ink drawing (‘Vue perspective de la fontaine des innocents, présentée à Monsieur de Villedeuil’ – Private collection, 36 °ø 51.5cm) that later appeared as an engraving in J. La Borde et al. (eds.), Voyage pittoresque de la France, vol. 25 X, livraison 56 (Paris, 1792), no. 84. Stalls were only erected in 1811 and to a different design – AN, F13 1162, F13 942, no. 52; AP, 6AZ8, doss. 422. From 1789 to 1811, large umbrellas – shown inmany visual representations (Figure 4) – provided some shelter for market sellers and their produce. 71 Journal de Paris, 50, 19 Feb. 1787, 217–18. 72 AN, H748 231, no. 18, H1023 17; P. Michel, ‘La politique d’acquisition des Batiments du Roi pour les collections royales dans la seconde moitie du XVIIIe siècle: modalities, choix et portee’, in M. Favreau et al. (eds.), De l’usage de l’art en politique (Rennes, 2009), 45–61. 73 G. Joudiou, ‘Lemarché et le square des Innocents’, in Fleury and Leproux (eds.), Les Saints- Innocents, 163–75; Tesson, ‘Matériaux’, 59; J. Péridier, La commune et les artistes: Pottier, Courbet, Vallès, J.-B. Clément (Paris, 1980), 66. 74 This same design – supplemented with the flagpole added to the Fountain in 1791 – reappeared in Sobre, Le marché des innocents vu de la Maison Batave (1804) – Musée Carnavalet. 75 These are calculated using the height – 2.29m – of the standing nymphs. 76 Nineteenth-century accounts named Mézières, Lhuillier and Daujon without specifying their division of labour, but this can be surmised from payment disputes and information about their areas of expertise. AN, F13 212, F13 1013; V. Negre, L’ornement en série (Paris, 2006), 87, 94–5, 133;W. Szambien, Le Musée d’architecture (Paris, 1988), 23, 44–5. 77 Thirion, ‘La Fontaine des Nymphes’, 141–2; Stein, Pajou, 234–9; J. Draper and G. Sherf, Augustin Pajou, Royal Sculptor (New York, 1998), 80–2. 78 T. Emeric-David, Recherches sur l’art statuaire (Paris, [1805] 1863), 299–302, 308; A. Quatremère de Quincy, Letters to Miranda and Canova on the Abduction of Antiquities from Rome and Athens, trans. C.Miller and D. Gilks (Los Angeles, 2012), 156; G. Planche, Portraits d’artistes, vol. I (Paris, 1853), 146–72, 178. 79 AN, O1 499, fols. 181–2, 192, 212, 319–20, F13 212. 80 La Borde et al. (eds.), Voyage pittoresque, vol. X, livraison 56, 2–3; J. Pujoulx, Paris a la fin du XVIIIe siècle (Paris, 1801), 28; A. Lenoir, Histoire des arts en France, prouvée par les monuments (Paris, 1811), 290; Landon (ed.), Annales, 91–3, 111–12; C. Landon and J. Legrand, Description de Paris, vol. II (Paris, 1809), 71–3; J. de Saint Victoire, Tableau historique et pittoresque de Paris, vol. II (Paris, 1809), 256. 81 G. Faroult, Hubert Robert (1733–1808). Un peintre visionnaire (Paris, 2016), 386–7; AN, AFIII, 48, no. 167, F21*2470, doss. 211, 76–7, and doss. 372, 142, F21*2471, doss. 167, 150–1, F14 2152, F14 2180/2, F21*2473, 282–7. 82 Anon., Le Voyageur (Paris, 1797), 130; Saint Victoire, Tableau historique, vol. II, 256; Pujoulx, Paris, 28; Landon (ed.), Annales, 91–3. 83 Journal de Paris, 229, 17 Aug. 1809, 1698; L. de Belan, ‘Aux rédacteurs’, Journal de Paris, 234, 23 Aug. 1809, 1736; AP, VO3/655 and 4AZ 6, no. 309; Joudiou, ‘Le marché’, 164, 169. 84 Poyet, ‘Aux rédacteurs’, Journal de Paris, 262, 9 Sep. 1809, 1868. 85 A. Diezmann, Malerische Wanderungen durch Paris oder Schilderungen der denkwu ̈rdigsten 26 (Leipzig, 1816), 204–6; E. Kolloff, Paris: Reisehandbuch (Leipzig, 1849), 152; Quatremère, ‘Goujon’, 476; A. Quatremère de Quincy, ‘Goujon’, in Dictionnaire historique d’architecture, vol. I (Paris, 1832), 679; Planche, Portraits d’artistes, vol. I (Paris, 1853), 170. 86 AN, F21*2542/12, doss. 52; Procès-verbaux. Commission municipale du vieux Paris (Paris, 1918), 84; V. Baltard, Agrandissement et construction des halles centrales d’approvisionnement. Rapport fait au Conseil municipal (Paris, 1845), 74. 87 C. Daly, Revue generale de l’architecture et des travaux publics, 18 (1860), 155; P. Lepine et al., Gabriel Davioud, architecte 1824–1881 (Paris, 1981), 41; Moniteur de la mode, 1 (1860), 203; Correspondant, 61 (1863), 893; K. Baedeker, Paris and its Environs (Leipzig, 1878), 180; E. Stanford, Stanford’s Paris Guide (London, 1862), 113–14; Procès-verbaux. Commission de vieux Paris (Paris, 1901), 136. 88 D. Bell, The Cult of the Nation in France. Inventing Nationalism, 1680–1800 (Cambridge, MA, 2003). 89 Journal de Paris, 14 Mar. 1787. 90 A. Potofosky, ‘Recycling the city: Paris, 1760s–1800’, in A. Fennetaux et al., The Afterlife of Used Things: Recycling in the Long Eighteenth Century (New York, 2015), 71–2. 91 D. Karmon, The Ruins of the Eternal City: Antiquity and Preservation in Renaissance Rome (Oxford, 2011), 6–10; idem, ‘Preserving antiquity in a Protestant city: the Maison Carrée in sixteenth-century Nimes’, in V. Chieffo Raguin (ed.), Art, Piety, and Destruction in European Religion, 1500–1700 (Farnham, 2010), 113–35. 92 G. Podany, ‘Lessons from the past’, in J. Burnett Grossman et al. (eds.), History of Restoration of Ancient Stone Sculptures (Los Angeles, 2003), 17. 93 AN, L656, doss. 53, archbishop of Paris orders the demolition of the Church of the Holy Innocents, 31 Nov. 1786. 
work_foiebc6zwvcvvht5lz322csdva	----	181_HStud_24(2010)2-chap02.vp NATIONAL IDENTITY IN HUNGARIAN ARCHITECTURE AND THE SHAPING OF BUDAPEST ANDRÁS FERKAI Moholy-Nagy University of Art and Design, Budapest Hungary Great cities are usually considered to be cites of modernity, so it may seem a bit bi- zarre to connect them with national identity. Indeed, the face of the Hungarian capi- tal is rather international, reflecting well the universal tendencies of modernization and urbanization that occurred from the end of 18th century. There are, however, some key-buildings and a few other examples in Budapest that give evidence of a counter intention: to provide architecture with a distinctive character as an expres- sion of Hungarian nationality in a modern sense. The 19th century was a high period of Nationalism, and the issue of national style in the arts was raised in many places in Europe and even in the Americas. How could it have been avoided in a multi-eth- nic Hungary that tried in vain to regain its independence from the Habsburg Empire throughout the century? It is no wonder that the national character of the arts was the subject of a more or less permanent discussion from the 1850s to the outbreak of World War I. The following paper offers an overview of the urban development of Budapest, followed by presentation of the concepts of the national style with refer- ence to the example of buildings erected in the capital city and a brief discussion of their antecedents. Keywords: Budapest, architecture, national style, Imre Henszlmann, Frigyes Feszl, Ödön Lechner, Károly Kós, Béla Lajta Budapest was once three separate towns each of which remained provincial un- til the end of the 18th century, at which time Emperor Joseph II made them the center of the Hungarian territory. While earlier Buda, essentially an enclosed bas- tion on castle hill, had been more significant, from the beginning of the 19th cen- tury the small civic community of Pest began to gain importance. The growth of the population began to increase in the 1820s, when industrialization and com- merce attracted masses from the countryside to Pest. In this period, the pace of the assimilation of the German speaking population (mostly of German, Slovak and Jewish origin) started to accelerate. The Absolutist period following the defeat of the revolution of 1848 slightly hindered urbanization, but with the Compromise of 1867 urban development began at a pace comparable to that in the United States Hungarian Studies 24/2 (2010) 0236-6568/$20.00 © 2010 Akadémiai Kiadó, Budapest HStud 24 (2010)2, 181–187 DOI: 10.1556/HStud.24.2010.2.2 as the unified capital city of Budapest turned into a real metropolis, with all infra- structure, public buildings and residential quarters. This process took place in the three decades before 1900. Models for urban development were first and foremost Paris and Vienna, while the style of public and private buildings mostly followed universal European trends: Classicism in the first half of 19th century and Historicism in the second (Preisich, 1964). Dissatisfaction with the international manner of building in Pest was first ex- pressed by enlightened aristocrats, such as Count István Széchenyi, and young in- tellectuals, like Bertalan Szemere, who traveled widely in Europe and discovered that our “Italianate” buildings did not differ from what was being built in the rest of the continent. Both men longed for the comfort of the English house and the practical construction in Britain, but did not call for the imitation of these struc- tures (Sisa, 1999, 81–4, 86–7). On the contrary, they invited Hungarian architects to invent something new that could respond to local climatic conditions and at the same time express national character. However, this period, the so-called Age of Reform (1790–1848) was not able to formulate this peculiar character; its archi- tecture followed the universal style of Classicism, due perhaps to the attraction of the cultured West. The intention to establish a national style appeared first within the vocabulary of historic styles. The first record is a pamphlet written by Johannes Schauff, a German art teacher in Pressburg (today Bratislava), with the design of a Hungar- ian order (Bibó, 1989, 60–3). Classical orders had been regarded as the invention of the Greeks tribes and the essence of architecture. Hence, it seemed quite natural to continue the sequence of orders with new ones that expressed the characters of nations as the modern equivalent of tribes. However, like his French, German and British forefathers, Schauff used heraldic symbols (in his case the double cross and the horizontal bands of the flag) referring to a concept prior to nation-states, when the monarchy had been decisive and the ethnic origin, language and culture of the subjects had not mattered. Even fifty years later, when criteria for the nation in the modern sense were de- fined, such as ethnicity, common language, religion, territory and common histor- ical memories, the task of finding the appropriate means of expressing this content in the arts was the source of much debate. The art historian Imre Henszlmann, who insisted on the creation of a national style, believed that, given the lack of a native architectural tradition, Hungary was compelled to choose from existing styles. He proposed the Byzantine style first and later the Gothic, claiming that “heydays of our national history were related to the ogival style” (Széles, 1973–75, 45), and the Gothic was of French and not German origin. For the building of the Hungar- ian Academy of Sciences he suggested using Gothic forms, but the jury was in fa- vor of the Neo-Renaissance, which they felt more appropriate to express the uni- versal idea of the sciences. Three decades later the House of Parliament was built 182 ANDRÁS FERKAI with a Gothic superstructure, but in this case the reference to the London Parlia- ment was certainly more significant than any allusion to the glorious Hungarian kingdom of the Middle Ages (Sisa, 1998, 205–6). The age of Romanticism made possible the birth of an architectural work delib- erately national in style. Romanticism led everywhere to an interest in the national past and popular culture. This trend was amplified by particular historic events in Hungary. The defeat of the war of independence against Habsburg reign rein- forced national emotions, either by encouraging escape into a romanticized past or resistance against the repression of Habsburg absolutism. The building of the Vigadó, erected on the Pest riverfront in this period, was therefore of considerable importance. Its architect, Frigyes Feszl who had been born in a German patrician family and whose mother tongue was German, decided to provide this stately cul- tural building with singularly Hungarian traits. At first glance, it does not differ much from the oriental-Islamic tradition of European Romantic architecture, but rather shows a striking originality in the use of Moorish, Byzantine and Roman- esque motifs. The arcaded main façade was designed by the architect on the model of the ‘porch,’ the traditional archway of peasant houses and country mansions (Komárik, 2002, 177, 179). The national character, in tune with 19th century thinking, resides mostly in the sculptural and ornamental decoration of the build- ing: sculptured heads of Hungarian kings and statesmen and the coat of arms crown the top of the façade, and the motifs borrowed from clothing, for instance the ceremonial knot of the Hungarian hussar’s uniform, were used as an element of the decoration. This reflects a common belief that national taste was better pre- served in the form of clothing than buildings (Moravánszky, 1998, 218). Feszl “dressed” (so to speak) his Assembly Hall in garb that contemporaries definitely felt to be Hungarian. This is not entirely evident now. When compared to a bank building in Vienna by Heinrich von Ferstel completed some years earlier (1856–60), the Vigadó shows embarrassing similarities. Feszl apparently bor- rowed a few architectural elements from this Vienna building, while Ferstel did the same with figures that have typical Hungarian faces and cloths. One should not forget that formalities like Hungarian dances, clothing, Gypsy music, and rhapsodies by Franz Liszt were in fashion at that time throughout the Empire and beyond. In the 1870s Feszl himself used romanticized elements of peasant life in bizarre ruined monuments (Moravánszky, 1998, 218–19), probably to the mem- ory of the failed 1848–49 revolution, where the Caryatides are replaced by Hun- garian shepherds wearing the cifraszûr (a traditional heavy woolen cloak). While Feszl’s attempt remained unique in his time, the 1890s saw the renais- sance of national style in architecture. The most prominent figure of this shift was Ödön Lechner, an architect of German origin and a graduate of the Berlin Bauakademie. Lechner sacrificed his whole life to the creation of a Hungarian ‘language of form.’ His style was based on a collection of ornamental samples NATIONAL IDENTITY IN HUNGARIAN ARCHITECTURE 183 published by József Huszka, a Transylvanian art teacher. Using formal analogies, Huszka had tried to prove the ancient Asian origin of these motifs. The richness, originality and the pedigree of folklore motifs induced Lechner to transpose this recently discovered treasure in his new style. The first example in Budapest is the Museum and School of Applied Arts. Like most 19th century artists and design- ers, he was convinced that the ornament was a language with its own grammar, as the title of Owen Jones’ book suggested, and if there was Celtic, Persian, Moorish ornament, why could there not be a Hungarian one? First he applied these orna- ments to a French Renaissance structure, but after a trip to London he realized that the Indian Mughal style could be a more organic bearer of the same decoration. The cross-fertilization of these cultures, he believed, would be useful. All the components that had a great effect on his architecture can be distinguished indi- vidually on the building: the French Renaissance distribution of volumes, the Moorish constructions in Andalusia as reflected in the large window over the en- trance, the Persian influence at the entrance gate, the Indian at the cave-like open entrance-hall and the top-lit exhibition hall, and the colorful ornaments manufac- tured by the famous Zsolnay-factory (Moravánszky, 1998, 225). The idiosyn- cratic style of Lechner, though it did not manage to curry the favor of politicians, became very popular among a band of younger architects at the turn-of-the-cen- tury, who brought it into fashion in private constructions. Lechner’s program to establish an architecture that is modern and has a na- tional character was acceptable for the next generation of architects, as well. The so-called ‘Young Architects’, however, rejected Lechner’s style, as is clearly visi- ble on the Main Square of the Wekerle Garden City, as overly imbued with indi- vidualism and speculation about ornaments. They did not want to draw from pat- tern books and other secondary sources, but rather directly from village buildings. The Arts and Crafts movement and Finnish National Romanticism directed their attention to the unspoiled world of peasant culture. Not only their style, but also their whole worldview differed from that of the previous generation. While the art of Lechner and his pupils had been deeply anchored in urban culture and liberal- ism, the younger generation was anti-liberal and against the metropolis (Ferkai, 1993, 13). The romantic anti-capitalism of Pre-Raphaelites drove them to the vil- lages, where they hoped to find a remedy to the artistic poverty of the mass culture of the cities in organic peasant culture. They preferred to build in the countryside and, when compelled to erect buildings in the capital, they used the same romanti- cally exaggerated roofs, wooden structures, and stonework, in other words ele- ments typical of the Transylvanian medieval churches and old mountain houses of which they were fond. The Wekerle Garden City, with its four thousand apartments in small semi-de- tached houses, was the most ambitious housing scheme at the beginning of 20th century. The central square designed by Károly Kós, who was twenty-nine years 184 ANDRÁS FERKAI old at the time, differs from the rest of the village-like colony. Since he had been born in Transylvania (again to a family of German origin), he found inspiration in the main squares of medieval Transylvanian towns, such as Hermannstadt (or Nagyszeben in Hungarian and Sibiu in Romanian) and Klausenburg (Kolozsvár in Hungarian and Cluj-Napoca in Romanian), where terraces of two-storey houses surround the central park (Gall, 2002, 252). In order to avoid breaking the closed composition, he bridged over the streets on the longer sides. Façades designed by Kós and his friends followed the detailing of national romanticism which was ap- propriate in this suburban environment. Kós never built in the city center of Pest, and all of his designs in the capital city are situated in a garden or park, where he was able to use his favorite picturesque rural structures, even in the case of larger public buildings. These can be regarded as a critique not only of Historicism and Jugendstil, but the whole metropolitan context, which previously had not been called in question. Parallel to the architecture of Kós and the Young Architects, another loosely affiliated group appeared before World War I with Béla Lajta as its most outstand- ing representative. His Municipal Commercial School (1909–12) was built in the dense 8th district of Budapest. As a student Lajta (originally Leitersdorfer), who had been born to an assimilated Jewish family, became enthusiastic about the ar- chitecture of Lechner. He even worked together with his master, but apart from a few common projects and early independent works his oeuvre bears witness to other influences. He traveled a great deal in Western Europe and was familiar with contemporary tendencies, which are evident in his Commercial School. The brickwork recalls industrial buildings by Peter Behrens, the verticality of the façade and the Mansard roof Messel’s department store in Berlin, so one may wonder why this building is considered part of the Hungarian national tendency. The explanation may lie in the ornaments borrowed from Hungarian folklore. Yet it is not easy to recognize the Hungarian origin of these geometric patterns. Sculpted stone boards on both sides of the entrances seem closer to Pre-Colum- bian friezes or the ornaments used by Frank Lloyd Wright, and interior wall paint- ings seem to bear more affinity with the patterns of Josef Hoffmann and the Wiener Werstätte. One may well agree with the comment of a contemporary, who stated in 1919 that by the eve of World War I the program of national style in ar- chitecture had lost its validity (Ligeti, 1919, 27). The war did indeed put an end to this tendency. Pre-war nationalistic aspira- tions, represented by Lechner and his followers, including Béla Lajta, did not con- tinue, while the Young Architects had to adapt their style to new conditions. Lechner and Lajta died and others emigrated. In addition, the conservative regime of the 1920s applied the ‘national’ label to its own constructions, which reflected a renewed Historicism and primarily Neo-Baroque style (Ferkai, 1998, 245–50). Little mention is made of the fact that the very reason for the pursuit of a national NATIONAL IDENTITY IN HUNGARIAN ARCHITECTURE 185 style had vanished. With the dissolution of the Dual Monarchy, Hungary became an independent nation-state and lost most of its ethnic minorities, along with two-thirds of its former territory. Neither the struggle for independence nor the as- similation of minorities justified a national style. Followers of Lechner were blamed for distorting their master’s style with their Jewish character and prefer- ence for individuality and excesses. The official cultural policy and the gentry mentality was similarly adverse to everything related to peasantry and folklore, and even architects who refreshed their National Romantic style with Turanian ideology (Ede Thoroczkai Wigand and István Medgyaszay) found themselves on the periphery. The issue of national style was raised again in discussions of the late 1920s, when the International Modern Movement suddenly conquered Hun- garian architecture. Those who claimed in the mid-1930s that modern architecture should be assimilated to conditions in Hungary did not want to create an overall national style. Instead, they were in favor of regional styles based on local tradi- tions. This did not affect the architecture of Budapest; it remained basically mod- ern until the Stalinist cultural policy designated 19th century Neo-Classicism as a ‘progressive tradition.’ In the late 1960s and 70s, monolithic housing projects provoked a harsh reaction on behalf of the Hungarian organic movement, which in many respects was a continuation of previous national tendencies. As was the case with National Romanticism, the typical sphere of action of the organic move- ment was the countryside; they only rarely built in the capital. Thus the image of Budapest has essentially been defined by international influ- ences, whether they arrived from the West or East. The diversity of influences not- withstanding, its architecture has nonetheless coalesced into a unique, recogniz- able cityscape. While the city has been labeled cosmopolitan from time to time, or, in worse periods, the ‘wicked city’, most of its architecture apparently has a particular character which visitors are able to distinguish. Bibliography István Bibó (1989) ‘Johann Schauff nemzeti oszloprend terve 1790-bõl’ (The national order project by Johannes Schauff in 1790) in Katalin Keserû et al. (eds) Sub Minerae Nationis Praesidio. Tanulmányok a nemzeti kultúra kérdéskörébõl Németh Lajos 60. születésnapjára (Studies on the national culture in honour of Lajos Németh on his 60th birthday) (Budapest: ELTE Mûvészettörténeti Tanszék) 60–63. András Ferkai (1993) Nemzeti építõmûvészet. A nemzeti fogalom jelentésváltozásai a két világhá- ború közötti magyar építészetben (National style in architecture. Changes in the concept of ‘na- tional’ in the Hungarian architecture of the inter-war period). Kandidátusi értekezés, kézirat. (PhD dissertation, manuscript) (Budapest). András Ferkai (1998) ‘Hungarian architecture between the wars’, in Dora Wiebenson and József Sisa (eds): The Architecture of Historic Hungary (Cambridge and London: The MIT Press, Ch. 10). 186 ANDRÁS FERKAI Anthony Gall (2002) Kós Károly mûhelye. The Workshop of Károly Kós (Budapest: Mundus). Dénes Komárik (2002) ‘A Note on Frigyes Feszl’s Romantic Search for a Hungarian National Style’, Centropa, A Journal of Central European Architecture and Related Arts, Vol. 2, No. 3, 177–81. Pál Ligeti (1919) ‘A világháború és az új stílusra való törekvésünk’ (The World War and our attempt to a new style), Építõ Ipar – Építõ Mûvészet (Building Industry – Architectural Art) Vol. 43, No. 4, 27–8. Ákos Moravánszky (1998) ‘The search for a national style’, in Ákos Moravánszky Competing Vi- sions. Aesthetic Invention and Social Imagination in Central European Architecture, 1867–1918 (Cambridge and London: The MIT Press, Ch. 7). Gábor Preisich (1964) Budapest városépítésének története a kiegyezéstõl a Tanácsköztársaságig (The history of Budapest’s urbanization from the Compromise to the Soviet Republic) (Buda- pest: Mûszaki Könyvkiadó). József Sisa (1998) ‘Hungarian architecture from 1849 to 1900’, in Dora Wiebenson and József Sisa (eds): The Architecture of Historic Hungary (Cambridge and London: The MIT Press, Ch. 8). József Sisa (1999) ‘The ‘English Garden’ and the Comfortable House. British Influences in Nine- teenth-Century Hungary’, in Gyula Ernyey (ed.) Britain and Hungary. Contacts in Architecture and Design during the Nineteenth and Twentieth Century. Essays and Studies (Budapest: Hun- garian University of Craft and Design). Klára Széles (1973–75) ‘Henszlmann és a magyar mûvészettörténetírás kezdetei’, in Klára Széles (1992) Henszlmann Imre mûvészetelmélete és kritikusi gyakorlata (Budapest: Argumentum) 42–5. NATIONAL IDENTITY IN HUNGARIAN ARCHITECTURE 187 
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A . , U N I V E R S I T Y O F C A L G A R Y , 1 9 8 8 A T H E S I S S U B M I T T E D I N P A R T I A L F U L F I L M E N T O F T H E R E Q U I R E M E N T S F O R T H E D E G R E E O F M A S T E R O F A R T S i n T H E F A C U L T Y O F G R A D U A T E S T U D I E S S C H O O L O F C O M M U N I T Y A N D R E G I O N A L P L A N N I N G W e a c c e p t t h i s t h e s i s a s c o n f o r m i n g t o t h e r e q u i r e d s^eCndkrd T H E U N I V E R S I T Y O F B R I T I S H C O L U M B I A J u l y , 1 9 9 2 c B e v e r l e y A n n e S c h l o s s e r S t a c e y , 1 9 9 2 I n p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f t h e r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r a n a d v a n c e d d e g r e e a t T h e U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , I a g r e e t h a t t h e L i b r a r y s h a l l m a k e i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e a n d s t u d y . I f u r t h e r a g r e e t h a t p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y p u r p o s e s m a y b e g r a n t e d b y t h e H e a d o f m y D e p a r t m e n t o r b y h i s o r h e r r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . I t i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t c o p y i n g o r p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r financial g a i n s h a l l n o t b e a l l o w e d w i t h o u t m y w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . S C H O O L O F C O M M U N I T Y A N D R E G I O N A L P L A N N I N G T h e U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a 2 0 7 5 W e s b r o o k P l a c e V a n c o u v e r , C a n a d a V 6 T I W S D a t e : 1 4 J u l y 1 9 9 2 T h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e r e p r e s e n t s a n i m p o r t a n t e r a i n t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f C a n a d i a n c u l t u r e . M o v i e s h a v e h e l p e d f o r m o p i n i o n s , t a s t e , l a n g u a g e , d r e s s a n d b e h a v i o r o f s i x t y p e r c e n t o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n o f t h e e a r t h . A " n i g h t o u t a t t h e m o v i e s " w a s , a n d i s t o d a y , a n s o c i e t a l i n s t i t u t i o n a n d a n i m p o r t a n t p a r t o f t h e c o u r t i n g r i t u a l . T h e a r c h i t e c t u r e o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e p a l a c e s h a s m a d e a d i s t i n c t l y N o r t h A m e r i c a n c o n t r i b u t i o n t o a r c h i t e c t u r a l h i s t o r y . U n f o r t u n a t e l y , t h e m o v i e m a y r e p r e s e n t t o m a n y C a n a d i a n d e c i s i o n m a k e r s a n d c o m m u n i t y l e a d e r s a s y m b o l o f A m e r i c a n c u l t u r a l d o m i n a t i o n a n d c r a s s , m a s s p o p u l a r c u l t u r e . T h e s t r u c t u r e i s o f t e n v i e w e d a s a n e x p e n d a b l e w h i t e e l e p h a n t , n o t o n l y b y t h e u n s y m p a t h e t i c l a y m a n , b u t t h e f i l m i n d u s t r y i t s e l f . W h e n t h e o l d m o v i e p a l a c e i s d i s c e r n e d a s n o l o n g e r e c o n o m i c a l l y v i a b l e a s a m o v i e t h e a t r e , i t i s o f t e n d e m o U s h e d to m a k e w a y f o r a p a r k i n g l o t , n e w u r b a n d e v e l o p m e n t , o r r e n o v a t e d t o c r e a t e m u l t i p l e x t h e a t r e s . W h i l e m a n y o f t h e m a r v e l o u s o l d m o v i e p a l a c e s h a v e b e e n d e m o l i s h e d , m a n y h a v e b e e n s a v e d to s e r v e a s c u l t u r a l v e n u e s f o r t h e i r r e s p e c t i v e c o m m u n i t i e s a n d a c k n o w l e d g e d a s s t r a t e g i c a n c h o r s f o r i n n e r - c i t y r e j u v e n a t i o n p r o j e c t s . T h i s t h e s i s d i s c u s s e s t h e d y n a m i c s o f c i v i c r e s p o n s e t h r o u g h a c r o s s - c u l t u r a l e x a m i n a t i o n b a s e d o n t h r e e c a s e s t u d i e s - t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e i n V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a a n d t h e P a n t a g e s a n d t h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e s i n T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n - w h i c h d e m o n s t r a t e s u c c e s s f u l h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e p r o j e c t s . T h r o u g h a n e x a m i n a t i o n o f t h e r e l e v a n t l i t e r a t u r e , p r i v a t e files, a r c h i v e s r e s e a r c h , i n t e r v i e w s , s i t e v i s i t s a n d c a s e s t u d y a n a l y s i s , i m p o r t a n t g e n e r a l c o n c l u s i o n s a r e m a d e w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e f a t e o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e i n A m e r i c a n a n d C a n a d i a n c o m m u n i t i e s . B e c a u s e o f d i v e r s e h i s t o r i c a l d e v e l o p m e n t a l r o o t s r e s u l t i n g i n p o l i t i c a l a n d s o c i o e c o n o m i c d i f f e r e n c e s , A m e r i c a n s h a v e m o r e i n f l u e n c e a t t h e l o c a l l e v e l w i t h r e s p e c t to d e c i s i o n m a k i n g a n d c o m m u n i t y d e v e l o p m e n t t h r o u g h t h e p o w e r to v o t e f o r b o n d i s s u e s t h a t p r o v i d e m o n i e s f o r l o c a l e x p e n d i t u r e s . T h r o u g h y e a r s o f e x p r e s s i n g a d e s i r e f o r h e r i t a g e f u n d i n g a n d p r o v i d i n g e c o n o m i c i n c e n t i v e s f o r h e r i t a g e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s , m u c h m o r e h a s b e e n a c c o m p l i s h e d . C a n a d i a n s d e l e g a t e m o r e p o w e r to a l l l e v e l s o f g o v e r n m e n t a n d b e l i e v e t h a t t h e s e g o v e r n m e n t s s h o u l d b e h e l d r e s p o n s i b l e f o r l o c a l i n i t i a t i v e p r o j e c t f u n d i n g . T h e s e d i f f e r i n g s o c i o e c o n o m i c a n d p o l i t i c a l c l i m a t e s a r e r e f l e c t e d i n t h e c a s e s t u d i e s p r e s e n t e d h e r e i n . A r e v i e w o f a v a r i e t y o f r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s i l l u s t r a t e e x a m p l e s o f g o v e r n m e n t a n d p r i v a t e i n i t i a t i v e s a n d t h e g e n e r a l s t a t e o f t h r e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a c r o s s C a n a d a . T h e r e i s l i t t l e e v i d e n c e o f s t r o n g c o m m u n i t y e f f o r t w i t h r e s p e c t t o p r i v a t e f u n d i n g i n i t i a t i v e s . T h i s i s d u e t o t w o r e a s o n s : g e n e r a l r e l i a n c e o n g o v e r n m e n t to p r o v i d e f u n d s f o r c u l t u r a l d e v e l o p m e n t a n d f e d e r a l t a x a t i o n p o l i c i e s t h a t do n o t e n c o u r a g e h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n . A r e v i e w o f C a n a d i a n h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n i l l u s t r a t e s h o w i n e f f e c t u a l i t i s i n t h e p r o t e c t i o n o f h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s a n d h o w i m p o r t a n t l o c a l c i v i c a c t i o n i s w h e n h e r i t a g e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e i s i n q u e s t i o n . T h e P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a h a s a d r a f t b i l l , t h e W h i t e P a p e r , t h a t a d d r e s s e s n e w h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n t h a t a w a i t s l e g i s l a t i v e a p p r o v a l . P o l i c y r e c o m m e n d a t i o n s b a s e d o n p r o p o s e d c h a n g e s t o h e r i t a g e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e d e v e l o p m e n t a r e a s e n c o u r a g e r e c o g n i t i o n o f t h e v a l u e o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e to t h e c o m m u n i t y . P o l i c y o p t i o n s f o r t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r a r e e x p l o r e d w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t o n G r a n v i l l e M a l l a n d t w o h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s , t h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e a n d t h e V o g u e T h e a t r e , n o w c l o s e d . T h i s t h e s i s a r g u e s t h a t w h e n t h e n e e d f o r a d d i t i o n a l c u l t u r a l f a c i l i t i e s h a s b e e n i d e n t i f i e d a n d a c k n o w l e d g e d , a s i t h a s b e e n i n V a n c o u v e r , a n d w h e n m o n i e s a r e a v a i l a b l e t h r o u g h c a s h - i n - l i e u f o r p r o v i s i o n o f o f f - s i t e a m e n i t i e s , a s i n a n o p t i o n i n t h e c a s e o f t h e C o a l H a r b o u r d e v e l o p m e n t , e x i s t i n g f a c i l i t i e s s h o u l d b e e x a m i n e d . R e n o v a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f v a c a n t s t r u c t u r e s s h o u l d b e c o n s i d e r e d . A r e v i e w o f a v a r i e t y o f a l t e r n a t i v e s m a y b e t t e r s e r v e t h e g e n e r a l n e e d s o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n w i t h r e s p e c t t o l o c a t i o n a n d e c o n o m y . T A B L E OF C O N T E N T S A B S T R A C T i i T a b l e o f C o n t e n t s v L i s t o f F i g u r e s v i i A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T v i i i C H A P T E R L- I N T R O D U C T I O N 1 L l P R E A M B L E 1 L 2 P U R P O S E A N D S I G N I F I C A N C E O F T H E S T U D Y 3 1.3 R E S E A R C H M E T H O D O L O G Y 7 1.4 L I M I T A T I O N S O F T H E S T U D Y 1 1 1..5 D E F I N I T I O N S 12 C H A P T E R I L T H E C O N T E X T 14 2 . 1 T H E P L A C E O F T H E A T R E I N A C O N T E M P O R A R Y U R B A N C O N T E X T 14 2 . 2 - T H E P L A C E O F T H E T H E A T R E I N W E S T E R N C U L T U R E 1 9 2 . 1 . 1 E u r o p e a n a n d B r i t i s h I n f l u e n c e s 2 0 2 . 1 . 2 E a r l y T h e a t r e i n N o r t h A m e r i c a 2 4 2 . 3 T H E A D V E N T O F T H E M O T I O N P I C T U R E 2 5 2 . 4 T H E G O L D E N A G E O F T H E M O V I E P A L A C E 3 1 2 . 4 . 1 A n A m e r i c a n P h e n o m e n o n 3 1 2 . 4 . 2 F o c u s o n C a n a d i a n M o v i e P a l a c e s 3 7 2 . 5 T H E D E C L I N E O F T H E M O V I E P A L A C E 4 1 2 . 6 T H E R E S T O R A T I O N A N D R E U S E O F H I S T O R I C M O V I E T H E A T R E S 4 5 2 . 7 H E R I T A G E P O L I C Y O V E R V I E W 4 7 2 . 7 . 1 A m e r i c a n H e r i t a g e P o l i c y 4 8 2 . 7 . 2 C a n a d i a n H e r i t a g e P o l i c y 5 1 2 . 7 . 3 T h e V o l u n t e e r a n d t h e T h e a t r e R e s t o r a t i o n P r o j e c t 5 6 C H A P T E R 1 1 1 : C A S E S T U D I E S 6 3 3 . 1 C A S E S T U D Y : T H E P A N T A G E S T H E A T E R , T A C O M A , W A S H I N G T O N 6 3 3 . 1 . 1 T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n 6 3 3 . 1 . 2 T h e H i s t o r y o f T h e a t r e i n T a c o m a 6 4 3 . 1 . 3 C i v i c R e s p o n s e : P a n t a g e s R e s t o r a t i o n P r o j e c t 6 8 3 . 1 . 4 T h e P a n t a g e s : F u n d i n g R e s t o r a t i o n a n d R e u s e 6 9 3 . 1 . 5 F i n a n c i a l W o e s a n d C r e a t i v e B o o k k e e p i n g 7 1 3 . 2 C A S E S T U D Y : T H E R I A L T O T H E A T R E , T A C O M A 8 0 3 . 2 . 1 T h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e 8 0 3 . 2 . 2 C i v i c A c t i o n a n d t h e R i a l t o R e s t o r a t i o n P r o j e c t 8 1 3 . 2 . 3 B r o a d w a y T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t F u n d i n g 8 3 3 . 2 . 4 L e s s o n s to b e L e a r n e d 8 6 Table of Contents 3 . 3 C A S E S T U D Y : T H E O R P H E U M T H E A T R E , V A N C O U V E R , B . C 8 9 3 . 3 . 1 T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a 8 9 3 . 3 . 2 T h e H i s t o r y o f T h e a t r e i n V a n c o u v e r 9 0 3 . 3 . 3 C i v i c A c t i o n : O r p h e u m R e s t o r a t i o n P r o j e c t 9 7 3 . 3 . 4 P a n i c a t t h e O r p h e u m 1 0 4 3 . 4 T H E V O G U E T H E A T R E 1 1 1 3 . 5 T H E S T A N L E Y T H E A T R E 1 1 5 C H A P T E R I V : A N A L Y S I S 1 2 0 4 . 0 C R O S S - C U L T U R A L C A S E S T U D Y A N A L Y S I S 1 2 0 4 . 1 C o m p a r a t i v e C i v i c R e s p o n s e : C a n a d i a n a n d A m e r i c a n 1 2 0 4 . 2 C a s e S t u d y A n a l y s i s 1 2 4 1 2 5 4 . 2 . 1 I n n e r - c i t y D e v e l o p m e n t 1 2 7 4 . 2 . 2 I n i t i a l G r a s s - r o o t s R e s p o n s e 1 2 8 4 . 2 . 3 C o m m u n i t y R e s p o n s e 1 2 9 4 . 2 . 4 M u n i c i p a l , S t a t e / P r o v i n c i a l , F e d e r a l S u p p o r t 1 3 0 C H A P T E R V : C O N C L U S I O N 1 3 4 5 . 0 C O N T E M P O R A R Y P R O B L E M S / C O N T E M P O R A R Y S O L U T I O N S 1 3 4 5 . 1 O v e r v i e w 1 3 4 5.2 P l a n n i n g a n d t h e H i s t o r i c M o v i e T h e a t r e 1 3 8 5 . 3 P l a n n e r s a n d H e r i t a g e R e s o u r c e P r e s e r v a t i o n 1 3 8 5 . 4 P o l i c i e s P l a n n i n g a n d t h e H i s t o r i c T h e a t r e 1 4 0 5 . 5 P o l i c y O p t i o n s a n d t h e H i s t o r i c T h e a t r e 1 4 1 5.6 W h i t e P a p e r H e r i t a g e P o l i c y D r a f t P r o p o s a l 1 4 3 5.7 R e d e v e l o p m e n t A r e a P o l i c i e s P l a n f o r G r a n v i l l e M a l l 1 4 9 A P P E N D I X 1 5 7 A P P E N D I X B 1 6 0 LIST OF FIGURES T h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e , a " f u l l h o u s e . " 2 3 G r a n v i l l e T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t , V a n c o u v e r ( 1 9 3 0 s ) 3 0 T h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e a u d i t o r i u m , T a c o m a 3 6 N a t i o n a l H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n C a r t o o n 4 0 H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n C a r t o o n 4 4 H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n C a r t o o n 6 2 T h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e ( T h e J o n e s B u i l d i n g ) , T a c o m a 6 7 T h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e R e n o v a t i o n 7 6 T h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e a n d t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n o f t h e " t a l k i e s . " 7 9 T a c o m a B r o a d w a y T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t 8 5 T h e G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t ( 1 9 3 0 s ) , V a n c o u v e r , B . C 8 8 T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e B i l l b o a r d ( 1 9 3 0 s ) , V a n c o u v e r 9 2 T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e , t h e G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t E n t r a n c e 9 4 T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e , S e y m o u r S t r e e t e n t r a n c e 9 6 T h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a , 1 9 2 1 9 8 T h e O r p h e u m , s t a g e a n d p r o s c e n i u m a r c h 1 0 9 T h e V o g u e T h e a t r e , G r a n v i l l e M a l l 1 1 0 T h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e , G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t S o u t h 1 1 4 H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n C a r t o o n 1 2 6 G o o d B y e C r u e l W o r l d 1 3 7 G r a n v i l l e M a l l , v i e w t o w a r d N e l s o n S t r e e t 1 4 6 G r a n v i l l e M a l l , v i e w t o w a r d R o b s o n S t r e e t 1 4 7 G r a n v i l l e M a l l H i s t o r i c T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t 1 4 8 A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T I w i s h to a c k n o w l e d g e t h e f o l l o w i n g : . M y f a t h e r , n o w d e c e a s e d , w h o d r o v e m a n y p r a i r i e m i l e s to t a k e h i s c h i l d r e n t o t h e m o v i e s a n d t h u s c r e a t e d a r d e n t m o v i e f a n s . . D r . A l a n A r t i b i s e , t h e s i s a d v i s o r , f o r h i s p o s i t i v e s u p p o r t ; r e a d e r s . P r o f e s s o r P e n n y G u r s t e i n , P r o f e s s o r M i c h a e l S e e l i g a n d J u d y O b e r l a n d e r , e x t e r n a l e x a m i n e r , f o r t h e i r c r i t i q u e a n d e n c o u r a g e m e n t . . M r . F r i t z B o w e r s , V a n c o u v e r , a n d E l i A s h l e y , T a c o m a , w h o o p e n e d t h e i r p r i v a t e files a n d g a v e m e e n c o u r a g e m e n t , s u p p p o r t a n d a d v i c e . A l s o , R h o n n a ( F l e m i n g ) C u r t i s w h o r e c o u n t e d t h e e x c i t i n g d a y s o f t h e s a v i n g o f t h e O r p h e u m a n d i s t h e l i v i n g p r o o f o f w h a t o n e w o m a n w i t h a c a u s e c a n a c c o m p l i s h . . P r o f e s s o r B r a h m W e i s m a n f o r h i s e n c o u r a g e m e n t a n d c r i t q u e ; M i l l i e C h u , f e l l o w s t u d e n t a n d f r i e n d , f o r h e r c o n t e n t r e v i e w a n d c r i t i q u e . . M y f a m i l y , w h o h a s b e e n d e p r i v e d o f m y a t t e n t i o n t h r o u g h f o u r u n i v e r s i t y d e g r e e s , a n d m y b e s t f r i e n d W a l l y , a f e l l o w film f a n . . T a c o m a P u b l i c L i b r a r y a n d t h e V a n c o u v e r P u b l i c L i b r a r y f o r a l l p h o t o g r a p h s i n c l u d e d i n t h e t e x t . D r a w i n g s c o u r t e s y o f t h e H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s , " 7 Feel I Should Warn You...'Historic Preservation Press Cartoons," a n d t h e New Yorker M a g a z i n e , I n c . 1.1 PREAMBLE T h i s t h e s i s r e s e a r c h t o p i c w a s c h o s e n i n o r d e r to g a i n i n s i g h t i n t o t h e p r o c e s s b y w h i c h c o m m u n i t i e s c h o o s e to r e s t o r e a n d r e u s e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s o n c e t h e y h a v e o u t h v e d t h e i r p r i m a r y p u r p o s e , t h a t o f a s v e n u e s f o r s h o w i n g f i l m . S u c c e s s f u l a n d a c c e s s i b l e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s w e r e s e l e c t e d i n T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n , t o p r o v i d e p o i n t s o f c o m p a r i s o n f o r t h e C a n a d i a n e x a m p l e - t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e i n V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . I t i s r e a d i l y a c c e p t e d t h a t t h e c i t i z e n s o f t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s i s i n g r a i n e d w i t h a s t r o n g s e n s e o f n a t i o n a l i s m t h a t i s n o t f o u n d to t h e s a m e d e g r e e a m o n g r e s i d e n t s o f C a n a d a . P r i d e i n A m e r i c a n t r a d i t i o n s a n d i n s t i t u t i o n s i s t h e r e f o r e a c t u a l i z e d i n d e m a n d s m a d e f o r f u n d i n g f o r a l l h e r i t a g e c a u s e s - a n d t h e p o h t i c a l r e s p o n s e i n a n s w e r i n g t h o s e d e s i r e s w i t h a p p r o p r i a t i o n s , e c o n o m i c i n c e n t i v e s a n d g r a n t s . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e i s a n A m e r i c a n i n s t i t u t i o n a n d t h e r e f o r e e n j o y s a h i g h d e g r e e o f s y m p a t h y a m o n g t h e g e n e r a l p o p u l a t i o n . R e s e a r c h i l l u s t r a t e s t h a t A m e r i c a n c o m m u n i t i e s h a v e c h o s e n t o s a v e a s i g n i f i c a n t n u m b e r o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s . W h a t m u s t b e s t r e s s e d f r o m t h e o u t s e t i s t h a t t h e f o c u s o f t h i s t h e s i s d o e s n o t i n c l u d e c o m m e n t o n w a y s i n w h i c h A m e r i c a n c i t i z e n s c o u l d b e t t e r s p e n d t h e i r t a x d o l l a r s a n d p r i v a t e c o n t r i b u t i o n s . N o r d o e s t h i s t h e s i s a t t e m p t to m a k e v a l u e j u d g e m e n t s w i t h r e s p e c t to h o w C a n a d i a n a n d A m e r i c a n c o m m u n i t i e s d e t e r m i n e t h e i r i n d i v i d u a l s o c i o e c o n o m i c p r i o r i t i e s . T h e p o i n t o f t h e e x e r c i s e i s t o g a i n k n o w l e d g e w i t h r e s p e c t t o h o w h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s h a v e b e e n s a v e d f o r c o m m u n i t y u s e - a n d t o c o n s i d e r w h a t i s to b e g a i n e d f r o m t h i s k n o w l e d g e . I t i s o b v i o u s t h a t , w h i l e t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e p a l a c e w a s b u i l t f o r t h e e n t e r t a i n m e n t o f a l l s o c i o e c o n o m i c l e v e l s o f N o r t h A m e r i c a n s o c i e t y , o r " t h e m a s s e s , " t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s a r e s p e a r - h e a d e d b y i n d i v i d u a l s w h o m o s t o f t e n r e p r e s e n t m i d d l e to u p p e r - i n c o m e g r o u p s a n d i n t e r e s t s . H i s t o r y t e a c h e s u s t h a t t h e p o o r h a v e l i t t l e e n e r g y f o r t h e l e a d i n g o f m o v e m e n t s o f a n y t y p e , b e i n g t o o o c c u p i e d w i t h b a s i c s u r v i v a l . T h e e c o n o m i c r e c e s s i o n a n d s o c i a l p r o b l e m s a p p a r e n t t h r o u g h o u t N o r t h A m e r i c a d u r i n g t h e l a t e 1 9 8 0 s a n d t h o s e p r o j e c t e d f o r t h e 1 9 9 0 s i n d i c a t e t h a t p u b l i c f u n d s t h a t o t h e r w i s e m i g h t b e a p p r o p r i a t e d f o r c u l t u r a l p u r p o s e s w i t h i n o u r u r b a n a r e a s , m a y b e d i r e c t e d t o w a r d o t h e r m o r e p r e s s i n g n e e d s w i t h i n c o m m u n i t i e s s u c h a s f u n d i n g f o r l o w - i n c o m e h o u s i n g p r o j e c t s , e d u c a t i o n , m e d i c a l s e r v i c e s a n d c a r e f o r t h e e l d e r l y . T h i s t h e s i s d o e s n o t p r o p o s e t h a t m o n i e s s h o u l d b e d i v e r t e d f r o m s o c i a l s e r v i c e p r o g r a m s a n d s e r v i c e s i n o r d e r t o r e s t o r e o l d t h e a t r e s . W h a t i s a r g u e d i s t h a t w h e n t h e n e e d f o r a d d i t i o n a l t h e a t r e p e r f o r m a n c e s p a c e h a s b e e n i d e n t i f i e d w i t h i n t h e c o m m u n i t y i n q u e s t i o n , a n d a c k n o w l e d g e d b y c i v i c a d m i n i s t r a t o r s , p l a n n e r s , a n d C i t y C o u n c i l - f u n d s r e q u i s i t i o n e d f r o m d e v e l o p e r s f o r c o m m u n i t y a m e n i t i e s , s u c h a s t h e n e w t h e a t r e c o m p l e x i n t h e C o a l H a r b o u r r e d e v e l o p m e n t a r e a , c o u l d b e m o r e s t r a t e g i c a l l y u s e d . R e s e a r c h w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e A m e r i c a n e x p e r i e n c e i n d i c a t e s t h a t r e s t o r a t i o n o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s f o r c o m m u n i t y c u l t u r a l u s e m a k e s e c o n o m i c s e n s e - m o r e s p a c e f o r l e s s m o n e y , l a b o u r i n t e n s i v e e m p l o y m e n t c r e a t i o n , i m p o r t a n t a n c h o r f o r i n n e r - c i t y r e j u v e n a t i o n p r o j e c t s , p o i n t o f i n t e r e s t f o r c u l t u r a l t o u r i s m , a n d g e n e r a l l y s p a c e c r e a t i o n t h a t i s m o r e p l e a s i n g t o t h e u s e r . T h e n e w t h e a t r e i n C o a l H a r b o u r i s e s t i m a t e d to c o s t b e t w e e n 2-5 a n d 3 0 m i U i o n d o l l a r s - m u c h o f t h i s w i l l b e p a i d f o r b y t h e p u b l i c a s o n l y t h e s i t e a n d a p e r c e n t a g e o f t h e c o n s t r u c t i o n c o s t s w i l l b e i d e n t i f i e d a s a p u b l i c a m e n i t y d o n a t i o n f r o m M a r a t h o n R e a l t y t o t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r ( C o x , 1 9 9 2 ) . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r h a s c h o s e n to b u i l d a n e w t h e a t r e i n a n a r e a t h a t w i l l c a t e r to t h e u p p e r - i n c o m e r e s i d e n t s o f t h e n e w C o a l H a r b o u r a r e a . T h i s t h e s i s s u g g e s t s t h a t t h e h i s t o r i c G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t b e t w e e n R o b s o n a n d N e l s o n S t r e e t s s h o u l d , u n d e r t h e n e w p o w e r s o f t h e B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a W h i t e P a p e r o n h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n , b e d e c l a r e d a s p e c i a l d e v e l o p m e n t d i s t r i c t s i m i l a r t o a p p r o a c h e s t a k e n i n C h i n a t o w n a n d G a s t o w n . T h e C i t y s h o u l d i n d i c a t e t h r o u g h p o l i c y d i r e c t i o n a n d m o n e t a r y i n v e s t m e n t , a n i n t e r e s t i n b r i n g i n g t h i s h i s t o r i c d i s t r i c t b a c k to i t s f o r m e r f u n c t i o n a s a n e n t e r t a i n m e n t d i s t r i c t t h a t a p p e a l s to a l l s o c i o e c o n o m i c l e v e l s o f V a n c o u v e r s o c i e t y . T h e C i t y s h o u l d a l s o u s e a p o r t i o n o f t h e p u b l i c a m e n i t y f u n d s t o s t u d y t h e v i a b i l i t y o f t h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e a s a c o m m u n i t y c u l t u r a l c e n t r e . H o w a r e s u c c e s s f u l t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s h a n d l e d i n C a n a d a a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s ? T h e a p p r o a c h e s a r e d i f f e r e n t d u e t o a v a r i e t y o f r e a s o n s - h i s t o r i c a l , p o l i t i c a l , a n d s o c i o e c o n o m i c . F r o m k n o w l e d g e c o m e s p o w e r . T h e i n f o r m a t i o n h e r e i n a i d s t h e c i t i z e n , p l a n n e r a n d p o l i t i c i a n i n e v a l u a t i n g p o s s i b i H t i e s a n d i d e n t i f y i n g p i t f a l l s . S t r e n g t h o f l i f e c o m e s f r o m c o n t i n u i t y o f t r a d i t i o n , s o m e t h i n g t o r e f e r b a c k t o a s a n o r i e n t a t i o n f o r t h e p r e s e n t . . . . W i t h o u t t h e v i s i b l e p a s t w h a t e v e r w e m a k e s t a n d s n o w h e r e , a n d s t a n d i n g n o w h e r e , i t c a n n o t p o s s i b l y s e r v e a s a b a s i s f o r t h e f u t u r e ( S a r d e l l o 1 9 8 6 , 7 1 ) . 1.2 P U R P O S E A N D S I G N I F I C A N C E O F T H E S T U D Y T o g e t h e r w i t h t h e s k y s c r a p e r , m o v i e t h e a t r e s a r e p e r h a p s t h e m o s t d i s t i n c t l y A m e r i c a n c o n t r i b u t i o n t o a r c h i t e c t u r a l h i s t o r y ( S e x t o n a n d B e t t s 1 9 7 7 , i v ) . W h e t h e r w e l i k e i t o r n o t , i t i s t h e m o v i e s t h a t m o u l d , m o r e t h a n a n y o t h e r s i n g l e f o r c e , t h e o p i n i o n s , t h e t a s t e , t h e l a n g u a g e , t h e d r e s s , t h e b e h a v i o u r , a n d e v e n t h e p h y s i c a l a p p e a r a n c e o f t h e p u b l i c c o m p r i s i n g m o r e t h a n 6 0 p e r c e n t o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n o f t h e e a r t h ( C h a m b e r s 1 9 8 6 , 7 7 ) . T h e p u r p o s e o f t h i s t h e s i s i s to c o n s i d e r t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e to N o r t h A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e a n d to e s t a b l i s h a b e t t e r u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f h o w t h e t r a d i t i o n a l m o v i e t h e a t r e i s v i e w e d b y t h e g e n e r a l p u b l i c a n d c i v i c d e c i s i o n m a k e r s a n d t h u s , i n s o m e c a s e s , s u r v i v e s t h e w r e c k e r s b a l l . T h e r e w o u l d a p p e a r t o b e a n e e d f o r a s t u d y t h a t a d o p t s a s l i g h t l y d i f f e r e n t a p p r o a c h t o t h e a n a l y s i s o f t h e p r o b l e m w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e . T h i s p a p e r i s u n i q u e i n t h a t i t e x a m i n e s t h e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e p r o c e s s w i t h i n a C a n a d i a n a n d A m e r i c a n c o n t e x t . T h e i s s u e s c o n s i d e r e d w i t h i n t h i s t h e s i s a r e o n g o i n g a n d t i m e l y . C a n a d i a n m o v i e p a l a c e s a r e r e s t o r e d a n d r e u s e d i n v e r y f e w c a s e s a n d o n l y b y c h a n c e . T h e r e i s l i t t l e e v i d e n c e o f s y m p a t h y f o r t h e s t r u c t u r e o r t h e i n s t i t u t i o n t h e r e f o r e m o v i e t h e a t r e s a r e n o t a w a r d e d a h i g h p r i o r i t y w h e n c o n s i d e r e d b y l e v e l s o f g o v e r n m e n t w i t h f u n d i n g p o w e r s . I d e n t i f i c a t i o n a n d e x a m i n a t i o n o f i m p o r t a n t e l e m e n t s w i l l s e r v e to p r o v i d e t h e d e c i s i o n m a k i n g c o m m u n i t y w i t h i m p o r t a n t i n f o r m a t i o n t h a t m a y e n c o u r a g e a c t i o n - r a t h e r t h a n c o m p U a n t r e a c t i o n - w h e n q u e s t i o n s r e g a r d i n g t h e f u t u r e o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s t r u c t u r e s n e e d t o b e a d d r e s s e d a n d s u b s e q u e n t d e c i s i o n s m a d e . T h i s s t u d y h a s p e r s o n a l s i g n i f i c a n c e f o r t h e a u t h o r o f t h i s p a p e r . W h i l e w o r k i n g a s A c t i n g H e r i t a g e P l a n n e r f o r t h e C i t y o f C a l g a r y , A l b e r t a , t h e o n l y r e m a i n i n g h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e , t h e P a l a c e , h a d i t s " l a s t p i c t u r e s h o w . " T h i s t h e a t r e i s s i t u a t e d i n t h e h e a r t o f t h e c i t y , o n S t e p h e n A v e n u e M a l l , w h i c h h a s h i s t o r i c s i g n i f i c a n c e f o r t h e C i t y o f C a l g a r y . F a m o u s P l a y e r s T h e a t r e s c l o s e d t h e P a l a c e t h e a t r e a n d , t y p i c a l l y , i m m e d i a t e l y r e m o v e d a l l o f t h e s e a t s a n d t e c h n i c a l e q u i p m e n t t h u s r e n d e r i n g t h e b u i l d i n g u s e l e s s a s a n e n t e r t a i n m e n t f a c i l i t y . T h e r e w e r e i n n u m e r a b l e e x p r e s s i o n s o f c o n c e r n t h r o u g h o u t t h e c o m m u n i t y a n d t h e s e w e r e a d d r e s s e d to t h e H e r i t a g e P l a n n e r . C i t i e s s e l d o m a c t i n a p r o - a c t i v e m a n n e r i n s u c h c a s e s . T h e " g r a s s - r o o t s " a c t i o n t h a t a p p e a r s t o b e s t r a t e g i c to a n y c o m m u n i t y - b a s e d p r e s e r v a t i o n m o v e m e n t d i d n o t m a t e r i a l i z e . W h a t w a s r e q u i r e d , a t t h e v e r y l e a s t , w a s a n i n d e p e n d e n t s t u d y t h a t a d d r e s s e d q u e s t i o n s r e g a r d i n g p o s s i b l e r e u s e o f t h e t h e a t r e . T h i s w a s n o t c a r r i e d o u t . T h e h e r i t a g e p l a n n e r w a s s i m p l y d i r e c t e d to w r i t e a s e r i e s o f l e t t e r s t o F a m o u s P l a y e r s i n q u i r i n g a s t o t h e i r p l a n s f o r t h e b u i l d i n g a n d i n f o r m i n g t h e m t h a t t h e C i t y o f C a l g a r y r e g a r d e d t h e P a l a c e a s a n i m p o r t a n t h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e . T h e h e r i t a g e p l a n n e r w h o w i s h e s t o b e t t e r u n d e r s t a n d t h e s t r a t e g i c e l e m e n t s o f t h e t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t , w h e n t h e y a r e r e l a t i v e l y u n i q u e i n C a n a d a , i s h a r d - p r e s s e d f o r r e l e v a n t i n f o r m a t i o n . T h e r e a r e C a n a d i a n s o u r c e s t h a t f o c u s o n p a r t i c u l a r a r e a s o f h e r i t a g e t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e - f r o m t h e h i s t o r y o f i n d i v i d u a l m o v i e p a l a c e s a n d t h e s u b s e q u e n t s u c c e s s f u l r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s e s - to C a n a d i a n h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n . T h e O r p h e u m t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t i n V a n c o u v e r i s a n e x c e l l e n t e x a m p l e to c o n s i d e r b u t u s e f u l i n f o r m a t i o n w a s n o t r e a d i l y a c c e s s i b l e . P u b l i s h e d i n f o r m a t i o n t y p i c a l l y f o c u s e s o n t h e a r c h i t e c t u r a l d e s i g n , t h e h i s t o r y a n d t h e r e u s e o f v a r i o u s p r o j e c t s o f n o t e , w h i l e t h e h i d d e n d y n a m i c s o f t h e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s - t h e s o c i a l , c u l t u r a l , e c o n o m i c a n d p o l i t i c a l f a c t o r s i n h e r e n t i n a n y p u b l i c r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t - a r e n o t r e a d i l y d i s c e r n a b l e f r o m t h e s e p u b l i c a t i o n s . H e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n t h a t a p p e a r s t o b e s y m p a t h e t i c t o t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e r e q u i r e s e x a m i n a t i o n . R e s e a r c h t h a t f o c u s e s o n t h e d y n a m i c s o f p r i v a t e a n d p u b l i c a c t i o n a n d t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f s e l e c t e d h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s i n C a n a d a a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s w o u l d a p p e a r t o b e a w o r t h w h i l e e n d e a v o u r . S u c h r e s e a r c h a n d a n a l y s i s m a y b e o f u s e to o t h e r c o m m u n i t i e s w i t h s i m i l a r c h a l l e n g e s . T h i s t h e s i s i s d e d i c a t e d to t h a t e n d . T h i s t h e s i s w i l l e x a m i n e t h e s o c i a l , e c o n o m i c , p o l i t i c a l a n d c u l t u r a l c o n d i t i o n s t h a t a p p e a r t o b e n e c e s s a r y i n o r d e r f o r c o m m u n i t i e s t o s u c c e s s f u l l y i d e n t i f y , r e s t o r e , a n d r e u s e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s . T h e f o l l o w i n g a s p e c t s w i l l b e a d d r e s s e d : (a) t h e c o n d i t i o n s n e c e s s a r y to g e n e r a t e l o c a l c o m m u n i t y i n t e r e s t i n h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e p r e s e r v a t i o n a n d r e u s e ; (b) h o w m i g h t c o m m u n i t y i n t e r e s t e n c o u r a g e p o s i t i v e c i v i c p o h t i c a l r e s p o n s e s i n o r d e r t o f a c i l i t a t e t h r e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e ; a n d (c) h o w m i g h t t h e e n e r g i e s o f t h e b r o a d e r c o m m u n i t y a n d a l l l e v e l s o f g o v e r n m e n t b e e n c o u r a g e d t o w a r d t h e c o n s i d e r a t i o n o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e a s a v a l u a b l e e c o n o m i c a n d c u l t u r a l r e s o u r c e . B e c a u s e t h e i m p e t u s b e h i n d t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s i s b a s e d o n c o m p l e x s o c i a l , c u l t u r a l , p o l i t i c a l a n d e c o n o m i c d y n a m i c s t h e f o l l o w i n g w i l l b e c o n s i d e r e d : (a) t h e h i s t o r y o f t h e a t r e a n d t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e m o v i e t h e a t r e i n t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f p o p u l a r c u l t u r e i n N o r t h A m e r i c a ; (b) t h e " G o l d e n A g e " o f t h e m o v i e p a l a c e i n N o r t h A m e r i c a ; (c) s o c i a l a n d t e c h n o l o g i c a l c h a n g e a n d t h e d e c l i n e o f t h e m o v i e p a l a c e ; (d) t h e m o v i e p a l a c e a n d c o n t e m p o r a r y c u l t u r e - w h a t f a t e , t h e a g e i n g d o w a g e r ? (e) t h e s o c i a l , c u l t u r a l , e c o n o m i c , a n d p o l i t i c a l d y n a m i c s i n v o l v e d i n s u c c e s s f u l h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s : c a s e s t u d i e s ; (f) h e r i t a g e p o l i c y o v e r v i e w - p r o v i n c i a l a n d s t a t e l e v e l s - n a t i o n a l l e g i s l a t i o n - U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d C a n a d a . (g) t h e p l a c e o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e i n t h e r e v i t a U z a t i o n o f i n n e r c i t y a r e a s s u c h a s G r a n v i l l e M a l l . 1.3 RESEARCH METHODOLOGY T h e c a s e s t u d y w o u l d a p p e a r t o b e t h e o n l y a p p r o p r i a t e m e t h o d b y w h i c h o n e m i g h t e x a m i n e t h e d y n a m i c s o f c i v i c a c t i o n w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s f o r c o m m u n i t y u s e . R o b e r t K . Y i n s t a t e s t h a t : . . . i n v e s t i g a t i o n s o f i n t e r n a t i o n a l p r o g r a m s h a v e r e d i s c o v e r e d t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e c a s e s t u d y a s a s e r i o u s r e s e a r c h t o o l . O v e r a l l , a s i g n i f i c a n t t r e n d m a y b e t o w a r d a p p r e c i a t i n g t h e c o m p l e x i t y o f o r g a n i z a t i o n a l p h e n o m e n o n f o r w h i c h t h e c a s e s t u d y m a y b e t h e m o s t a p p r o p r i a t e r e s e a r c h m e t h o d ( Y i n 1 9 8 9 , 1 2 ) . I n o r d e r t o r e s e a r c h t h e t h e s i s s u b j e c t a r e a a w i d e s e l e c t i o n o f p u b l i s h e d a n d u n p u b h s h e d s e c o n d a r y s o u r c e s w e r e r e v i e w e d . T h e r e a r e e x c e l l e n t b o o k s d e v o t e d t o t h e w i l d a n d w o n d e r f u l h i s t o r y o f t h e m o v i e p a l a c e , w e l l w r i t t e n a n d b e a u t i f u l l y i l l u s t r a t e d . H a l l ' s The Best Remaining Seats, N a y l o r ' s American Picture Palaces, a n d Great American Movie Theatres a n d The Picture Palace b y D e n n i s S h a r p p r o v i d e a t h o r o u g h h i s t o r y o f t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e A m e r i c a n m o v i e i n d u s t r y f r o m t h e e r a o f t h e n i c k e l o d e o n t o m o v i e t h e a t r e d e s i g n . V a l e r i o a n d F r i e d m a n ' s Movie Palaces: Renaissance and Reuse i s t h e m o s t u s e f u l w o r k ; a " m u s t - r e a d " f o r c i v i c g r o u p l e a d e r s i n t e r e s t e d i n h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n . I t d i s c u s s e s a n d i l l u s t r a t e s a v a r i e t y o f A m e r i c a n r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e p r o j e c t s u p to 1 9 8 1 a n d p r o v i d e s i n s p i r a t i o n a n d a u s e f u l f r a m e w o r k f o r a c t i o n . I n t e r e s t i n g c o n t e m p o r a r y v i e w s o f t h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a n d t h e m o v i e i n d u s t r y a r e p r e s e n t e d i n S e x t o n a n d B e t t ' s American Theatres Today w r i t t e n i n 1 9 2 7 , a n d S h a n d ' s The Architecture of Pleasure: Modern Theatres and Cinemas p u b U s h e d i n 1 9 3 0 . T h e b e s t o v e r v i e w o f t h e h i s t o r y o f t h e m o v i e t h e a t r e i n a n A m e r i c a n a n d C a n a d i a n c o n t e x t i s Turn Out the Stars Before Leaving w r i t t e n b y J o h n C . L i n d s a y . Theatre Architecture in Canada, A Study of Pre-1920 Canadian Theatres b y R o b e r t H u n t e r w a s c o m m i s s i o n e d b y t h e C a n a d i a n H i s t o r i c S i t e s a n d M o n u m e n t s B o a r d a n d i s a u s e f u l b a c k g r o u n d d o c u m e n t . S p e c i f i c T o r o n t o r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s a r e d o c u m e n t e d i n t h e b e a u t i f u l l y i l l u s t r a t e d Pantages Theatre b y O l s h e s k i a n d R u s s e l l ' s Double Take: The Story of the Elgin and the Winter Garden Theatres. M c C a l l u m ' s Vancouver's Orpheum p r o v i d e s a g o o d g e n e r a l o v e r v i e w o f t h e a t r e h i s t o r y i n V a n c o u v e r a n d t h e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t a n d i s w e l l i l l u s t r a t e d . P e r i o d i c a l s a n d n e w s l e t t e r s i n t h e i n t e r e s t a r e a s o f t h e a t r e , c u l t u r e a n d h e r i t a g e p r o v i d e r e l e v a n t a n d c u r r e n t i n f o r m a t i o n . Marquee: The Journal of the Theatre Historical Society i s a n i n v a l u a b l e s o u r c e f o r c u r r e n t i n f o r m a t i o n w i t h r e s p e c t to A m e r i c a n t h e a t r e h i s t o r y a n d r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s . T h e Information Series p r o d u c e d b y t h e N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H e r i t a g e P r e s e r v a t i o n a r e e x c e l l e n t s o u r c e s f o r i n f o r m a t i o n r e g a r d i n g m a n y a s p e c t s o f A m e r i c a n h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n , s u g g e s t i o n s f o r o r g a n i z i n g v o l u n t e e r s f o r h e r i t a g e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s a n d i n f o r m a t i o n a b o u t v a r i o u s h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n p r o j e c t s t h r o u g h o u t t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s . Forum p u b l i s h e d b y t h e A m e r i c a n P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s i s a n o t h e r e x c e l l e n t s o u r c e o f c u r r e n t i n f o r m a t i o n . C o n t e m p o r a r y h e r i t a g e i n f o r m a t i o n w a s p u b l i s h e d i n Canadian Heritage Magazine h o w e v e r H e r i t a g e C a n a d a c e a s e d p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s s m a l l , g l o s s y m a g a z i n e i n t h e S p r i n g o f 1 9 9 0 d u e t o b u d g e t c o n s t r a i n t s . C u r r e n t i n f o r m a t i o n i s d i s t r i b u t e d t h r o u g h t h e n e w s l e t t e r c a l l e d , Impact. C a n a d i a n h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n i s c l e a r l y o u t l i n e d i n W a r d ' s Heritage Conservation: The Built Environment a n d c r i t i c a l l y r e v i e w e d b y J a c q u e s D a l i b a r d , i n " L a w s A r e N o t E n o u g h " a n d " W h y W e N e e d a N a t i o n a l H e r i t a g e R e v i e w " i n Canadian Heritage Magazine. P u b l i s h e d w o r k s c o n s u l t e d i n o r d e r to e x a m i n e g e n e r a l r e a d i n g s o n h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n i s s u e s w e r e W i l l i a m s e t a l . Readings in Historic Preservation a n d T h u r b e r ' s Controversies in Historic Preservation. America's Downtowns: Growth, Politics and Preservation b y C o l l i n s e t a l . i s e s p e c i a l l y u s e f u l i n t h a t i t h i g h l i g h t s t h e p r o j e c t s t h a t h a v e b e e n u n d e r t a k e n r e g a r d i n g h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n i n a w i d e v a r i e t y o f A m e r i c a n i n n e r c i t i e s . M c C a n n ' s Taking Reform Seriously i s v a l u a b l e f o r p e r s p e c t i v e s o n c o m m u n i t y a t t i t u d e s w i t h r e s p e c t t o h e r i t a g e i s s u e s . F u l l e r ' s The Land, the City, and the Human Spirit p r e s e n t s a w i d e v a r i e t y o f i n d i v i d u a l v i e w s o n t h e b u i l t e n v i r o n m e n t . C i v i c a c t i o n i n a n A m e r i c a n c o n t e x t i s e x a m i n e d i n K e n n a r d ' s v e r y s t i m u l a t i n g b o o k , Nothing Can Be Done, Everything is Possible. A s p e c t s o f p o p u l a r c u l t u r e , t h e i m p a c t o f m o v i n g p i c t u r e s o n A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e , a n d c u l t u r a l c h a n g e a r e e x p l o r e d t h r o u g h v a r i o u s r e l e v a n t a r t i c l e s p u b H s h e d i n The Journal of Popular Culture. B r a n t l i n g e r ' s Bread & Circuses, B a l l - K o k e a c h a n d C a n t o r ' s Media, Audience and Social Structure, a n d Stirrings of Culture b y S a r d e l l o a n d T h o m a s w e r e e s p e c i a l l y u s e f u l f o r v i e w s r e g a r d i n g N o r t h A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e a n d t h e m o t i o n p i c t u r e . T o d e t e r m i n e t h e e s s e n c e o f t h e d i f f e r e n c e b e t w e e n A m e r i c a n a n d C a n a d i a n p o l i t i c a l s t r u c t u r e s a n d a p p r o a c h e s t o c i v i c a c t i o n , L i p s e t ' s Continental Divide a n d M e r c e r a n d G o l d b e r g ' s " V a l u e D i f f e r e n c e s a n d t h e i r M e a n i n g f o r U r b a n D e v e l o p m e n t i n C a n a d a a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s " w e r e i n v a l u a b l e . P r i m a r y r e s e a r c h w a s c o n d u c t e d i n T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n . G u i d e d t o u r s o f t h e t h e a t r e s a n d i n t e r v i e w s w i t h i n d i v i d u a l s i n v o l v e d i n t h e r e s t o r a t i o n , r e j u v e n a t i o n a n d m a n a g e r i a l a s p e c t s o f T a c o m a ' s h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e c e n t r e w e r e i n f o r m a t i v e . I n t e r v i e w s w e r e c o n d u c t e d w i t h E l i A s h l e y , M a n a g i n g D i r e c t o r o f t h e P a n t a g e s C e n t e r , C i t y o f T a c o m a , a n d W i l l i a m W o o d , a s p e c i a l i s t i n h i s t o r i c r e s t o r a t i o n , i n v o l v e d i n t h e m a n a g e m e n t o f t h e R i a l t o p r o j e c t , T a c o m a ( A p r i l 3 0 , 1 9 9 1 ) . . T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a t h e a t r e a r c h i v e s w e r e u t i l i z e d a l o n g w i t h t h e C i t y o f T a c o m a P u b l i c L i b r a r y a r c h i v e s w h i c h i n c l u d e d e x t e n s i v e n e w s p a p e r c l i p p i n g f i l e s . A p p r o p r i a t e i l l u s t r a t i v e p h o t o s w e r e s e l e c t e d f r o m l i b r a r y p h o t o a r c h i v e s ; c o n t e m p o r a r y p h o t o s w e r e t a k e n o n s i t e . A d d i t i o n a l i n t e r v i e w s c o n d u c t e d : a) S t e v e B a r b e r , H e r i t a g e P l a n n e r , C i t y o f V i c t o r i a ( J a n u a r y 2 2 , 1 9 9 2 ) . b) F r i t z B o w e r s , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r , f o r m e r m e m b e r o f c o u n c i l a n d c i t y m a n a g e r . C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r ( F e b r u a r y 1, 1 9 9 1 ) . c) D a r r y l C a r i o u , H e r i t a g e P l a n n e r , C i t y o f E d m o n t o n ( J a n u a r y 2 2 , 1 9 9 2 ) . d) R h o n n a C u r t i s , C o m m u n i t y A r t s C o u n c i l , O r p h e u m T h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t ( J a n u a r y 2 3 , 1 9 9 2 ) . e) M a r c o D ' A g o s t i n i , H e r i t a g e T e c h n i c a n , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r ( F e b r u a r y 1 4 , 1 9 9 2 ) . f) N a t h a n E d e l s o n , P l a n n e r , D o w n t o w n S o u t h ( M a y 2 1 , 1 9 9 2 ) . f) W i l l i a m J . H u o t , M i n i s t r y o f M u n i c i p a l A f f a i r s , R e c r e a t i o n a n d C u l t u r e , H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n B r a n c h , G o v e r n m e n t o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , V i c t o r i a ( J a n u a r y 2 0 , M a r c h 1 0 , 1 9 9 2 ) . g) M i c h a e l K l u c k n e r , C h a i r m a n , H e r i t a g e V a n c o u v e r C o m m i t t e e ( M a r c h 4, 1 9 9 2 ) . h) J a c q u e h n e K o r o p a t n i c k , M a r k e t i n g a n d P u b l i c R e l a t i o n s M a n a g e r , Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h , O r p h e u m a n d V a n c o u v e r P l a y h o u s e ( M a r c h 5, 1 9 9 2 ) . i) R o b e r t L e m o n , H e r i t a g e P l a n n e r , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t ( M a y 2 0 , 1 9 9 2 ) . j) J o h n C o x , C o a l H a r b o u r P r o j e c t , M a r a t h o n R e a l t y ( J u n e 2 6 , 1 9 9 2 ) . k ) L o r e n z v o n F e r s e n , S o c i a l P l a n n e r , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t ( J u n e 2 6 , 1 9 9 2 ) . I n f o r m a t i o n w i t h r e s p e c t t o h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s h a s b e e n c o l l e c t e d t h r o u g h t h e a d m i n i s t r a t i o n o f a n i n f o r m a l q u e s t i o n n a i r e s e n t t o h e r i t a g e p l a n n i n g o f f i c e s i n a s e l e c t i o n o f c i t i e s a c r o s s C a n a d a : V i c t o r i a , E d m o n t o n , W i n n i p e g , T o r o n t o , W i n d s o r , O t t a w a a n d C h a r l o t t e t o w n ( S e e A p p e n d i x A ) . S u b s e q u e n t i n f o r m a t i o n w a s c o l l e c t e d t h r o u g h t e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w s . P a c k a g e s o f r e l e v a n t m a t e r i a l s h a v e b e e n r e c e i v e d a n d u t i l i z e d a s a r e s u l t o f t h i s e n d e a v o u r . I t i s e v i d e n t t h a t t h e a g e i n g a n d n e g l e c t e d m o v i e t h e a t r e h a u n t s a l l w h o a r e i n v o l v e d i n t h e a r e a o f h e r i t a g e p l a n n i n g . R e s e a r c h w a s c o n d u c t e d i n t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r t h r o u g h a s e c o n d a r y m a t e r i a l s s e a r c h . A r c h i v e n e w s p a p e r c l i p p i n g files w e r e u t i l i z e d t o a g r e a t d e g r e e t o g e t h e r w i t h t h e h i s t o r i c p h o t o files a t t h e V a n c o u v e r C e n t r a l L i b r a r y . A c c e s s t o t h e p r i v a t e files o f r e t i r e d C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t M a n a g e r , F r i t z B o w e r s , a C i t y C o u n c i l m a n a n d a n a c t i v e p a r t i c i p a n t t h r o u g h o u t t h e O r p h e u m t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t , p r o v i d e d i n v a l u a b l e i n f o r m a t i o n . T o u r s o f t h e c a s e s t u d y t h e a t r e s p r o v i d e d a d d i t i o n a l p r i m a r y r e s e a r c h i n f o r m a t i o n . C o n t e m p o r a r y p h o t o s w e r e t a k e n o f a l l t h e a t r e s d i s c u s s e d w i t h i n t h i s t h e s i s . L 4 L I M I T A T I O N S O F T H E S T U D Y A s w i t h a n y t h e s i s , t h e r e a r e m a n y l i m i t a t i o n s t h a t m u s t b e a d d r e s s e d . T h i s w o r k d o e s n o t p r o f e s s to b e t h e d e f i n i t i v e w o r k i n t h i s p r o b l e m a r e a . I t i s o n l y a b e g i n n i n g . A n i n d e p t h r e v i e w o f t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n g r a s s r o o t s m o v e m e n t s t h a t f a i l e d t o s a v e t h e i r b u i l d i n g s s h o u l d b e u n d e r t a k e n i n o r d e r t o b e t t e r u n d e r s t a n d t h e " e s s e n c e o f s u c c e s s . " T h i s s t u d y d o e s n o t p u r p o r t t o i d e n t i f y a l l o f t h e p r o b l e m s i n h e r e n t i n h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s o r t h e i n a d e q u a c i e s o f h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n t h r o u g h o u t C a n a d a o t h e r t h a n i n g e n e r a l o v e r v i e w . W h i l e a d d r e s s i n g p o t e n t i a l p o h c i e s f o r t h e G r a n v i l l e T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t , o n l y a g e n e r a l a p p r o a c h i s s u g g e s t e d . A n i n - d e p t h s t u d y o f G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t a n d t h e m a n y o p p o r t u n i t i e s a n d l i m i t a t i o n s i n h e r e n t i n t h e a r e a w o u l d c o n s t i t u t e t h e t o p i c f o r a s e p a r a t e t h e s i s . T h e a u t h o r o f t h i s p a p e r w i s h e s t o a c k n o w l e d g e t h e b o o k . Without Our Past: A Handbook for the Preservation of Canada's Architectural Heritage, w r i t t e n b y A n n F a u l k n e r . F a u l k n e r s p e a k s w i t h t h e f e r v o u r o f t h e 1 9 7 0 s , a s t h e " f l o w e r g e n e r a t i o n " m o v e d i n t o t h e n e w l y e m e r g i n g s t u d y a r e a o f u r b a n d e s i g n w i t h i n t h e c i t y p l a n n i n g p r o f e s s i o n . A n n F a u l k n e r i n t r o d u c e s h e r b o o k w i t h a q u o t a t i o n t h a t a p p r o p r i a t e l y s e t s t h e t o n e f o r t h e f o l l o w i n g c h a p t e r s o f t h i s t h e s i s . T h e w o m e n s a t a m o n g t h e d o o m e d t h i n g s , t u r n i n g t h e m o v e r a n d l o o k i n g p a s t t h e m a n d b a c k . . . . N o , t h e r e i s n ' t r o o m . . . . H o w c a n w e l i v e w i t h o u t o u r l i v e s ? H o w w i l l w e k n o w i t ' s u s w i t h o u t o u r p a s t ? ( J o h n S t e i n b e c k , The Grapes of Wrath). 1.5 D E F I N I T I O N S T h e f o l l o w i n g t e r m s u s e d w i t h i n t h e b o d y o f t h i s s t u d y a r e d e f i n e d a s s u c h : C o n s e r v a t i o n : i n c l u d e s a n a c t i v i t y u n d e r t a k e n to p r o t e c t , p r e s e r v e o r e n h a n c e t h e h e r i t a g e v a l u e o f h e r i t a g e p r o p e r t y ( P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , H e r i t a g e L e g i s l a t i o n , A D r a f t B i l l , 1 9 9 1 ) ; G r a s s r o o t s : t h e t r a d i t i o n a l m e a n i n g o f t h i s t e r m r e l a t e s t o t h e r u r a l p e o p l e o r c o m m o n p e o p l e w h o g a v e r i s e t o p o l i t i c a l o r c u l t u r a l f o r m s . F o r t h e p u r p o s e o f t h i s s t u d y , " g r a s s r o o t s " m o v e m e n t r e f e r s to t h o s e o f t h e l o c a l u r b a n c o m m u n i t y w h o g a t h e r t o g e t h e r i n o r d e r to e n c o u r a g e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e ; H e r i t a g e : e n c o m p a s s i n g t h e t a n g i b l e a n d i n t a n g i b l e a s p e c t s o f o u r n a t u r a l a n d c u l t u r a l p a s t f r o m p r e h i s t o r y to t h e p r e s e n t ( C a n a d i a n M u s e u m A s s o c i a t i o n ) ; H e r i t a g e P r o p e r t y : p r o p e r t y t h a t i s p r o t e c t e d u n d e r t h e P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a H e r i t a g e L e g i s l a t i o n o r t h a t h a s s u f f i c i e n t h e r i t a g e v a l u e i n t h e o p i n i o n o f t h e g o v e r n m e n t o r a l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t to j u s t i f y i t s c o n s e r v a t i o n ( P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , H e r i t a g e L e g i s l a t i o n , A D r a f t B i l l , 1 9 9 1 ) ; H e r i t a g e V a l u e : s c i e n t i f i c , e d u c a t i o n a l , a e s t h e t i c o r c u l t u r a l w o r t h o r u s e f u l n e s s ( P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , H e r i t a g e L e g i s l a t i o n , A D r a f t B i l l , 1 9 9 1 ) ; H i s t o r i c : i m p o r t a n t o r f a m o u s i n h i s t o r y ; m e m o r a b l e ; s i g n i f i c a n t ( F u n k & W a g n a l l s S t a n d a r d D i c t i o n a r y ) ; H i s t o r i c R e s o u r c e : a n y w o r k o f n a t u r e o r o f m a n t h a t i s p r i m a r i l y o f v a l u e f o r i t s p a l a e o n t o l o g i c a l , a r c h a e o l o g i c a l , p r e h i s t o r i c , h i s t o r i c , c u l t u r a l , n a t u r a l , s c i e n t i f i c o r a e s t h e t i c i n t e r e s t . . . . ( P r o v i n c e o f A l b e r t a , H i s t o r i c a l R e s o u r c e s A c t , 1 9 8 7 ) ; M o v i e P a l a c e : t h e m o v i e p a l a c e s s e a t b e t w e e n 1 , 0 0 0 a n d -5,000 p a t r o n s ; h a v e a s t a g e a n d s t a g e h o u s e w i t h f l y l o f t , r i g g i n g , d r e s s i n g r o o m s , a n d o r c h e s t r a p i t ; h a v e a b a l c o n y , o f t e n s u p p l e m e n t e d w i t h a m e z z a n i n e a n d a d d i t i o n a l s e a t i n g l e v e l s ; h a v e a n o t i c e a b l e d e c o r a t i v e p e r s o n a h t y ; w e r e b y d e f i n i t i o n , d e s i g n e d t o l a u n c h a n d p r o m o t e n e w f i l m s ; w e r e c o n s t r u c t e d i n t h e d o w n t o w n a r e a s o f c i t i e s , a n d t y p i c a l l y c l u s t e r e d i n e x i s t i n g e n t e r t a i n m e n t d i s t r i c t s o n t u r f a l r e a d y w e l l e s t a b l i s h e d b y v a u d e v i l l e ; a n d a p p e a r e d i n a v a r i e t y o f d e v e l o p m e n t c o n t e x t s - a s f r e e - s t a n d i n g t h e a t e r s , s h a r i n g w a l l s w i t h o t h e r c o m m e r c i a l s t r u c t u r e s , o r a s c o m p o n e n t s o f l a r g e r , m u l t i s t o r y o f f i c e b u i l d i n g s b e t w e e n 1 9 2 5 a n d 1 9 3 0 ( V a l e r i o a n d F r i e d m a n , 1 9 8 2 ) ; P r e s e r v a t i o n : a c t i o n t a k e n t o p r o t e c t t h e f o r m , i n t e g r i t y a n d f a b r i c o f h e r i t a g e p r o p e r t y a n d i n c l u d e s s t a b i l i z a t i o n a n d m a i n t e n a n c e ( P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a H e r i t a g e L e g i s l a t i o n , A D r a f t B i l l , 1 9 9 1 ) ; R e h a b i l i t a t i o n : t o r e s t o r e t o a c a p a c i t y f o r u s e f u l a c t i v i t y ( F u n k & W a g n a l l s S t a n d a r d D i c t i o n a r y ) ; R e s t o r a t i o n : t h e r e c o n s t r u c t i o n o r r e p a i r o f s o m e t h i n g so a s to r e s t o r e i t t o i t s o r i g i n a l o r f o r m e r s t a t e ( F u n k & W a g n a l l s S t a n d a r d D i c t i o n a r y ) . C H A P T E R I I : T H E C O N T E X T 2 . 1 T H E P L A C E O F T H E A T R E I N A C O N T E M P O R A R Y U R B A N C O N T E X T T h e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e a n d t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r c u r r e n t l y h a s t w o h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s t h a t a w a i t r e d e v e l o p m e n t d e c i s i o n s - t h e V o g u e t h e a t r e , s i t u a t e d o n t h e G r a n v i l l e M a l l i n t h e d o w n t o w n c o r e , a n d t h e S t a n l e y t h e a t r e , o n G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t S o u t h . T h e r e i s n o e x i s t i n g t h e o r y o f p l a n n i n g t h a t s p e c i f i c a l l y f o c u s e s o n h i s t o r i c c u l t u r a l v e n u e s a n d s u g g e s t s h o w t h e s e s h o u l d b e a p p r o a c h e d w i t h i n t h e u r b a n c o n t e x t . T h i s m a y e x p l a i n o n e r e a s o n f o r t h e g e n e r a l a p p r o a c h t a k e n b y t h e p l a n n i n g c o n s u l t a n t s a s d e m o n s t r a t e d w i t h i n t h e V a n c o u v e r D o w n t o w n S o u t h P l a n . T h e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t o n G r a n v i l l e M a l l i s n o t a w a r d e d a h i g h d e g r e e o f c o n c e r n . T h e r e m a y b e m a n y o t h e r u n d e r l y i n g r e a s o n s f o r t h i s l a c k o f s y m p a t h y f o r t h e d i s t r i c t . I t i s b e l i e v e d t h a t t h e f o l l o w i n g p e r c e p t i o n s , w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e , a r e g e n e r a l l y h e l d b y a s i g n i f i c a n t p r o p o r t i o n o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n : T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a s a w h i t e e l e p h a n t . T h e r e a r e m a n y r e a s o n s w h y t h e o l d m o v i e p a l a c e h a s b e e n t r e a t e d w i t h so l i t t l e r e s p e c t b y a l a r g e s e g m e n t o f N o r t h A m e r i c a n s o c i e t y . O n e r e a s o n s u g g e s t e d f o r t h i s c a v a l i e r a t t i t u d e i s t h a t : T h e i d e a o f p r e s e r v a t i o n i s a n a t h e m a to o u r e x p a n s i v e c h a r a c t e r . . . . A m e r i c a i s a l w a y s s t i l l t o b e b u i l t . . . . W e h a v e a l w a y s l e f t t h i n g s b e h i n d - t r a v e l l e d l i g h t . . . . N o t e v e n c o m m u n i t i e s w e p a u s e d t o c r e a t e w e r e m e a n t t o l a s t ( P o r t e r f i e l d 1 9 8 6 , 1 6 2 - 6 3 ) . T h e s i n g l e - s c r e e n m o v i e p a l a c e s o f t h e p a s t a r e n o l o n g e r c o n s i d e r e d e c o n o m i c a l l y v i a b l e b y t h e t w o m a j o r m o v i e d i s t r i b u t o r s . F a m o u s P l a y e r s I n c . , a n d C i n e p l e x O d e o n T h e a t r e s C i t i e s a c r o s s C a n a d a h a v e t h e a t r e s w h i c h a r e h e l d i n a s t a t e o f l i m b o - b o a r d e d u p a n d r a p i d l y d e t e r i o r a t i n g d u e to l a c k o f m a i n t e n a n c e . S o m e o f t h e s e t h e a t r e s a r e u s e d a s s e c o n d - r u n , f o r e i g n o r c l a s s i c f i l m h o u s e s a w a i t i n g t h e f i n a l c u r t a i n a n d t h e w r e c k e r s b a l l . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a s a s t r u c t u r a l e m b a r r a s s m e n t . T h e m o v i e p a l a c e h a s b e e n c r i t i c i z e d s i n c e i t s i n c e p t i o n a s r e p r e s e n t i n g t h e e p i t o m e o f b a d t a s t e i n a r c h i t e c t u r e a n d i n t e r i o r d e s i g n . " I f M i e s v a n d e r R o h e a n d o t h e r f a t h e r s o f m o d e r n a r c h i t e c t u r e f e l t t h a t l e s s i s m o r e , t h e m o v i e p a l a c e d e s i g n e r b e l i e v e d t h a t m o r e i s n o t e n o u g h " ( C h a r y n 1 9 8 9 , 1 1 ) . T h e o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e i s r i d i c u l e d f o r d i s p l a y i n g a n o v e r b l o w n f l a m b o y a n c e t h a t i s c o n s i d e r e d to b e i r r e l e v a n t w h e n c o m p a r e d t o m o d e r n f u n c t i o n a l a r c h i t e c t u r e o r m o d e r n s o c i e t y . H o w e v e r , i t h a s a l s o b e e n d e s c r i b e d a s " . . . o n e o f t h e r i c h e s t a n d m o s t i m a g i n a t i v e a n d t r a n s i t o r y s c h o o l s o f a r c h i t e c t u r e s i n c e t h e d i s c o v e r y o f t h e k e y s t o n e " a n d a l s o t h a t , " T h e a r c h i t e c t u r e o f t h e m o v i e p a l a c e w a s a t r i u m p h o f s u p p r e s s e d d e s i r e " ( C h a r y n 1 9 8 9 , 1 1 ) . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a s a c u l t u r a l e m b a r r a s s m e n t . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e m a y b e v i e w e d a s h a v i n g t h e s a m e s o c i a l o r a n t i s o c i a l s i g n i f i c a n c e a s a p o o l h a l l . T h e r e a r e m a n y s u b t l e a n d n o t - s o - s u b t l e r e a s o n s f o r t h i s a t t i t u d e . C r i t i c s o f m o d e r n s o c i e t y v i e w t h e m o v i e i t s e l f a s a n a n a t h e m a t h e r e f o r e i t f o l l o w s t h a t t h e s t r u c t u r e t h a t d e l i v e r s t h i s c u l t u r a l a f f r o n t w o u l d n o t v i e w t h e s t r u c t u r e w i t h s y m p a t h y . W e s t e r n e r s o n t h e w h o l e s e e m to w a n t n e i t h e r to f u l l y l i v e n o r f u l l y d i e , b u t to h a n g i n l i m b o , s e m i - c o n s c i o u s . . . e n t e r t a i n m e n t p r o v i d e s t h e m w i t h p e o p l e w h o w i l l . . . k i l l a n d d i e f o r t h e m , l i v e f o r t h e m . . . w h o s e l i v e s a r e r e f l e c t e d , n o t i n t h e a c h i e v e m e n t s o f n e a r e s t a n d d e a r e s t , b u t i n s t a r s , s y m b o l s , s m a l l c o n f l i c t s a n d c u l t u r a l s i d e s h o w s , a n d w h e r e d e v e l o p m e n t i s r e a l l y a n d t r u l y o v e r , a n d o n l y d i v e r s i o n i s l e f t ( B u r c h i l l 1 9 8 6 , 1 4 4 - 1 . 5 2 ) . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a s p o l i t i c a l a f f r o n t . T h e p o l i t i c a l " l e f t " m a y v i e w t h e o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e a s a p h y s i c a l m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f e c o n o m i c d o m i n a t i o n , " T h e L o r d s o f K i t s c h , i n s h o r t , e x p l o i t t h e c u l t u r a l n e e d s o f t h e m a s s e s i n o r d e r t o m a k e a p r o f i t a n d / o r t o m a i n t a i n t h e i r c l a s s r u l e " ( B r a n t h n g e r 1 9 8 3 , 2 0 0 ) . T o a p a r t i c u l a r s e g m e n t o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n , t h e p a l a t i a l o r n a m e n t a t i o n i s a p o h t i c a l a f f r o n t . " I d o n ' t o b j e c t to o r n a m e n t i t s e l f . . . b e c a u s e I l o v e o l d b u i l d i n g s . I j u s t o b j e c t to w h a t i t r e p r e s e n t s - a c e r t a i n p o m p o u s n e s s a n d o s t e n t a t i o n . I t s o r t o f r e m i n d s m e o f t h e R e a g a n E r a . . . " ( F u l l e r 1 9 8 5 , 1 2 7 ) . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a s a n e x a m p l e o f c u l t u r a l d o m i n a t i o n . T h e o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e m a y r e p r e s e n t e c o n o m i c a n d c u l t u r a l d o m i n a t i o n t o s o m e C a n a d i a n s . T h e s t r a n g l e - h o l d t h a t t h e A m e r i c a n d i s t r i b u t o r s m a i n t a i n o n t h e f i l m i n d u s t r y i s w e l l k n o w n . W h y s h o u l d w e w a n t t o i n v e s t t i m e a n d m o n e y t o p r e s e r v e t h i s s y m b o l o f f o r e i g n d o m i n a t i o n ? T h i s t h e s i s w i l l a r g u e t h a t t h e r e a r e i n d e e d m a n y r e a s o n s f o r s a v i n g o u r h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s - a n d t h e e m p h a s i s i s o n " o u r " t h e a t r e s . T h e y r e p r e s e n t a n i m p o r t a n t p a r t o f C a n a d i a n c u l t u r a l h i s t o r y a n d a n i r r e p l a c e a b l e s t r u c t u r a l r e s o u r c e . T h i s t h e s i s a r g u e s t h a t t h e m o v i e t h e a t r e s h o u l d b e v i e w e d i n t h e f o l l o w i n g p o s i t i v e m a n n e r : T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a s a c u l t u r a l a r t i f a c t . T h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e p a l a c e , a s a n e x a m p l e o f i n d i g e n o u s a r c h i t e c t u r e , i s a n i m p o r t a n t p h y s i c a l e x p r e s s i o n o f o u r c u l t u r e a n d t h e o l d m o v i e p a l a c e r e p r e s e n t s a n i m p o r t a n t e r a i n t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f N o r t h A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e . T h e r e a r e u r b a n o p i n i o n l e a d e r s a n d p o l i t i c a l d e c i s i o n m a k e r s t h r o u g h o u t N o r t h A m e r i c a w h o s c o f f a t t h e a r c h i t e c t u r a l a n d i n t e r i o r d e s i g n a s p e c t s o f t h e o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e . T h e y f a i l to c o n s i d e r t h e h i s t o r i c s i g n i f i c a n c e o f t h e m o v i e i n d u s t r y to o u r c u l t u r e a n d t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e p h y s i c a l e d i f i c e a s a c u l t u r a l a r t i f a c t . T h e s t r u c t u r a l d e s i g n o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e w a s f u n c t i o n a l i n t h a t t h e b u i l d i n g a n d t h e e n t e r t a i n m e n t , t h e f o r m a n d t h e f u n c t i o n , w e r e i n s e p a r a b l e . F o r t h i s r e a s o n t h i s t h e s i s c o n t e n d s t h a t t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e c a n n o t b e v i e w e d q u i t e h k e a n y o t h e r o l d b u i l d i n g . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e d i d n o t m e r e l y o c c u p y a s p a c e a n d p r o v i d e a s e r v i c e , b u t i t n u r t u r e d a s p e c i a l s t a t e o f c o n s c i o u s n e s s . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a s a m e a n s o f c u l t u r a l d i s s e m i n a t i o n . T h e t h e a t r e t h r o u g h o u t h i s t o r y h a s p r o v i d e d , n o t o n l y p r o v i d e d e n t e r t a i n m e n t a n d d i v e r s i o n , b u t k n o w l e d g e a b o u t i n d i v i d u a l s , p l a c e s a n d e v e n t s t h a t m a n y c i t i z e n s w o u l d h a v e h a d l i t t l e o p p o r t u n i t y to a c c e s s o t h e r w i s e . F r o m t h e S h a k e s p e a r e a n t h e a t r e , t h r o u g h t h e e r a o f t h e H o l l y w o o d m o g u l s , to o u r c o n t e m p o r a r y film i n d u s t r y , t h e t h e a t r e h a s m a i n t a i n e d a p o s i t i o n o f d o m i n a n c e w i t h r e s p e c t t o w h a t w e d e f i n e a s " p o p u l a r c u l t u r e . " T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a n d u r b a n h i s t o r y . T h e i n i t i a l s t a t e m e n t o f p u r p o s e m a y b e g t h e q u e s t i o n - w h a t j u s t i f i c a t i o n i s t h e r e f o r t h e p r e s e r v a t i o n o f o l d s t r u c t u r e s o f a n y t y p e ? A w i d e v a r i e t y o f a r g u m e n t s f o r h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n h a v e b e e n p r e s e n t e d a t d i f f e r e n t t i m e s a n d i n d i f f e r e n t p l a c e s . T h e m o s t o f t e n e x p r e s s e d a r g u m e n t i s b a s e d o n a n e e d t o p r e s e r v e o u r c u l t u r a l h e r i t a g e . B u i l d i n g s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h h i s t o r i c e v e n t s a n d / o r o f a r c h i t e c t u r a l s i g n i f i c a n c e a r e a v a l u a b l e a n d i r r e p l a c e a b l e p a r t o f a n a t i o n ' s c u l t u r a l h e r i t a g e , a n d a n i m p o r t a n t s o u r c e o f p r e s t i g e a n d p r i d e w i t h i n t h e c o m m u n i t y . T h e s e h i s t o r i c s t r u c t u r e s p r o v i d e u s w i t h a b a s i s f r o m w h i c h w e m a y u n d e r s t a n d w h e r e w e h a v e b e e n , d e t e r m i n e h o w f a r w e h a v e c o m e , a n d e v a l u a t e w h e r e w e a r e g o i n g . A n o t h e r j u s t i f i c a t i o n f o r h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n i s t h a t t h e h i s t o r i c b u i l d i n g i s a n i m p o r t a n t e d u c a t i o n a l a s s e t . V i s i t i n g t h e a c t u a l b u i l d i n g w i l l f a r s u r p a s s a n y t h i n g o n e m a y g l e a n f r o m b o o k s o r m u s e u m s . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e a n d t h e s t r e e t s c a p e . H i s t o r i c a r c h i t e c t u r e e n r i c h e s t h e e n v i r o n m e n t f r o m a n a e s t h e t i c s t a n d p o i n t t h r o u g h o f f e r i n g a v a r i e t y a n d r i c h n e s s to t h e u r b a n t e x t u r e . A h i s t o r i c b u i l d i n g m a y a d d c h a r a c t e r , a c t a s a l a n d m a r k , a n d p r o v i d e a n i n t e r e s t i n g c o u n t e r p o i n t to t h e m o d e r n s t r e e t s c a p e . W h e n m a n y o f t h e s e b u i l d i n g s a r e r e s t o r e d i n a n i d e n t i f i a b l e h i s t o r i c d i s t r i c t , a v a l u a b l e t o u r i s t d e s t i n a t i o n i s e s t a b l i s h e d . C u l t u r a l t o u r i s m , a s o p p o s e d to t o u r i s m b a s e d o n a c t i v e o u t d o o r s p o r t s o r l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s , i s a t t r a c t i n g i n c r e a s e d i n t e r e s t w i t h i n t h e i n v e s t m e n t c o m m u n i t y . A l l o f t h e a b o v e p o s i t i v e a t t r i b u t e s m a y b e d i r e c t l y a p p l i c a b l e t o a h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t a n d t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e p r o j e c t . O n e {age} b r a c k e t t h a t h a s i n c r e a s e d i n i m p o r t a n c e i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s i s t h e 5 0 - p l u s t r a v e l l e r . . . . T h e 5 0 - p l u s t r a v e l l e r s a r e m o r e l i k e l y to t r a v e l f o r e n t e r t a i n m e n t , s i g h t s e e i n g , t h e a t e r , h i s t o r i c a l s i t e s , a n d s h o p p i n g t h a n f o r o u t d o o r a c t i v i t i e s ( G u n n , 1 9 8 8 ) . A r e s t o r e d h i s t o r i c b u i l d i n g o f t e n p r o v i d e s t h e c a t a l y s t f o r n e w b u s i n e s s e s a n d s e r v i c e s i n t h e i m m e d i a t e v i c i n i t y . P r o p e r t y v a l u e s i n c r e a s e , a s d o g e n e r a l m u n i c i p a l r e v e n u e s , w h e n s u c c e s s f u l r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s a r e e n c o u r a g e d . W h a t f a t e t h e a g e i n g d o w a g e r ? H u n d r e d s o f o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e s h a v e b e e n d e m o l i s h e d t h r o u g h o u t t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d C a n a d a . T h e p o s t - w a r 1 9 5 0 s b u i l d i n g b o o m m a r k s t h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h e t r e n d t o w a r d d e m o h t i o n w h i c h c o n t i n u e s t o d a y . A g e i n g u r b a n s t r u c t u r e s a r e c o n t i n u a l l y r e p l a c e d i n g r o w i n g c o m m u n i t i e s a s d e m a n d f o r l a n d a n d s e r v i c e s c h a n g e o v e r t i m e . H i s t o r i c b u i l d i n g s a r e d e m o l i s h e d a n d w i l l c o n t i n u e t o b e r e p l a c e d a s l a n d v a l u e s e s c a l a t e a n d o l d b u i l d i n g f o r m s a r e d e c l a r e d o b s o l e t e . G r a n d o l d t h e a t r e s t h r o u g h o u t N o r t h A m e r i c a h a v e b e e n l o s t i n t h i s p r o c e s s , h o w e v e r m a n y t h e a t r e s h a v e b e e n s a v e d . T h e s e s t r u c t u r e s h a v e p r o v e n to b e o f u n p a r a l l e l e d v a l u e a s v e n u e s f o r a v a r i e t y o f c u l t u r a l a c t i v i t i e s a n d a s a p i v o t f o r u r b a n r e g e n e r a t i o n p r o j e c t s w i t h i n d e t e r i o r a t i n g i n n e r c i t y a r e a s . T h e a t r e r e c y c l i n g a s a r e s p o n s i b l e c i v i c r e s p o n s e . A l t h o u g h g r a s s r o o t s c i v i c a c t i o n h a s s a v e d m a n y o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e s , n o t a l l o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e s s h o u l d b e v i e w e d a s i c o n s . W h e n t h e e c o n o m i c v i a b i l i t y o f t h e s i n g l e - s c r e e n m o v i e p a l a c e s d i s a p p e a r s , t h e s t r u c t u r e s t h a t r e m a i n s h o u l d n o t o n l y b e c o n s i d e r e d t o b e h i s t o r i c a l a n d c u l t u r a l c o m m u n i t y a s s e t s , b u t t h e b u i l d i n g ' s e c o n o m i c v a l u e to t h e c o m m u n i t y s h o u l d b e a s c e r t a i n e d - t h e i m p o r t a n t r e d e v e l o p m e n t o p p o r t u n i t i e s t h a t m a y b e i d e n t i f i e d w h e n o l d m o v i e h o u s e m a r q u e e s go d a r k . A t h e a t r e i s n o t j u s t a b u i l d i n g . A t h e a t r e r e p r e s e n t s s o m e t h i n g u n i q u e t o t h e c o m m u n i t y a n d p r o v i d e s a s e r v i c e u n l i k e a n y o t h e r . T h e p h y s i c a l p l a n t w i l l r e q u i r e e x t e n s i v e a n d e x p e n s i v e r e p l a c e m e n t a n d u p g r a d i n g . H o w e v e r , f r o m t h e p e r s p e c t i v e s o f l o c a t i o n , s i z e , a c o u s t i c s , d e t a i l , a n d w o r k m a n s h i p , t h e b u i l d i n g w i l l b e , i n m a n y c a s e s , i r r e p l a c e a b l e . C y n i c s w i t h i n t h e c o m m u n i t y w i l l a r g u e t h a t t h e e x p e n s e a n d e f f o r t o n e p u t s i n t o o l d b u i l d i n g s d o e s n o t a p p e a r to m a k e e c o n o m i c s e n s e . W h e n f a c e d w i t h t h e s e a r g u m e n t s i t m a y b e u s e f u l to q u o t e O s c a r W i l d e ' s d e f i n i t i o n o f a c y n i c - " a m a n w h o k n o w s t h e p r i c e o f e v e r y t h i n g a n d t h e v a l u e o f n o t h i n g " ( O s c a r W i l d e , L a d y W i n d e r m e r e s ' F a n , A c t 1 1 1 ) . 2 . 2 T H E P L A C E O F T H E T H E A T R E I N W E S T E R N C U L T U R E T h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e a t r e i s a n i n t e g r a l p a r t o f N o r t h A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e a n d i s a d e r i v a t i v e o f t h e c u l t u r e s o f t h o s e i m m i g r a n t s w h o s e t t l e d t h e N o r t h A m e r i c a n c o n t i n e n t . T h e r e f o r e i t i s n e c e s s a r y t o a c k n o w l e d g e t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e a t r e i n B r i t a i n a n d E u r o p e i n o r d e r to t r a c e , n o t o n l y t h e p h y s i c a l a n d c u l t u r a l m a n i f e s t a t i o n s o f w h a t w e c o n s i d e r " t h e a t r e , " b u t a l s o s o m e i n t e r e s t i n g p s y c h o l o g i c a l a s p e c t s . T h e e v o l u t i o n o f t h e m o t i o n p i c t u r e a s a n a r t f o r m i n t h e c o n t e x t o f N o r t h A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e i s u n i q u e . T h e A m e r i c a n m o t i o n p i c t u r e i n d u s t r y i s a n e x t r e m e l y p o w e r f u l m e d i u m a n d C a n a d i a n s h a v e h a d a l o v e - h a t e r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h i t t h r o u g h o u t t h e p a s t c e n t u r y . 2 . 1 . 1 E u r o p e a n a n d B r i t i s h I n f l u e n c e s I f o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e s a p p e a r t o b e g e n e r a l l y u n a p p r e c i a t e d i n t h e i r " d e c a d e n t " s p l e n d o u r , i t s h o u l d n o t b e c o n s i d e r e d u n u s u a l i n l i g h t o f t h e t h e a t r e s ' c o l o u r f u l p a s t . T h e a t r i c a l p e r f o r m a n c e s d e s i g n e d t o a p p e a l t o t h e m a s s e s h a v e g e n e r a l l y b e e n f r o w n e d u p o n b y t h e u p p e r c l a s s e s o f s o c i e t y . " P o l i t e " s o c i e t y h a s l o n g b e l i e v e d t h a t l e i s u r e t i m e a n d t h e c o m m o n m a n w e r e a t r o u b l e s o m e c o m b i n a t i o n . H i s t o r i c a l l y , i d l e h a n d s a n d m i s c h i e f w e r e t h o u g h t t o b e c l o s e l y r e l a t e d ; w h e n t h e l a b o u r e r w a s n o t w o r k i n g h e w a s e x p e c t e d t o b e a t t e n d i n g c h u r c h s e r v i c e s . W i t h i n t h e c h u r c h t h e l a b o u r e r w a s e n c o u r a g e d to a p p r e c i a t e h i s l o t i n l i f e , r e s p e c t h i s b e t t e r s , a n d a n t i c i p a t e h i s r e w a r d s i n h e a v e n . H o w e v e r , m a n i s n o t to b e s e p a r a t e d f r o m h i s t h e a t r e . I t i s a n i n t e g r a l a r t f o r m i d e n t i f i e d i n t h e m o s t a n c i e n t o f c u l t u r e s a s g r o u p s g a t h e r e d t o b e e n t e r t a i n e d b y s t o r y - t e l l e r s , p o e t s , d a n c e r s , s i n g e r s , j e s t e r s , m a g i c i a n s a n d m u s i c i a n s . T h e t h e a t r e i s n o t o n l y r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f i t s o w n c u l t u r e , b u t a n i m p o r t a n t v e h i c l e f o r t h e m e l d i n g o r b l e n d i n g o f c u l t u r e s . C u l t u r e d o e s n o t e x i s t i n a s t a t i c s t a t e b u t h a s b e e n d e f i n e d a s a s p e c i f i c s t a g e i n t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f a c i v i h z a t i o n . " C u l t u r e i s a c t i v e , c o n t i n u o u s l y b e i n g m a d e a n d r e m a d e . . . i t m u s t b e v i e w e d r e l a t i o n a l l y a n d h i s t o r i c a l l y . . . " ( M e r c e r a n d G o l d b e r g 1 9 8 6 , 3 8 1 ) . L e w i s M u m f o r d s t a t e s t h a t t h e t h e a t r e w a s o n e o f t h e first c i v i c i n s t i t u t i o n s c r e a t e d b y m a n ( M u m f o r d , 1 9 6 1 ) . I t i s t h e t h e a t r e o f t h e G r e e k s , t h e e m b r y o n i c f o r m a s s o c i a t e d w i t h f e r t i h t y r i t e s a n d t h e p r o d u c t i v i t y o f s p r i n g a n d f a l l s e a s o n s , t h a t w e i d e n t i f y w i t h W e s t e r n c u l t u r e . T h e f i r s t t h e a t r e w a s a s c o o p e d - o u t s l o p e o f a h i l l w h i c h f o r m e d a s e m i c i r c u l a r a m p h i t h e a t r e . T h e s p i s i n t r o d u c e d t h e f i r s t a c t o r i n a t h e a t r e a t I k r i a i n t h e f i r s t h a l f o f t h e s i x t h c e n t u r y , B . C . ( M u m f o r d 1 9 6 1 , 1 6 2 ) . I f w e a s s o c i a t e t h e G r e e k t h e a t r e w i t h t h e h i g h e r i n t e l l e c t u a l a s p i r a t i o n s o f m a n - a n a t t e m p t to a p p e a l to t h e n o b l e o r h e r o i c - t h e R o m a n t h e a t r e i s d e p i c t e d a s p r o v i d i n g a f o r u m i n w h i c h t h e w o r s t a p p e t i t e s o f m e n w e r e i d e n t i f i e d a n d e n c o u r a g e d . T h i s a s p e c t o f e n t e r t a i n m e n t d e s i g n e d f o r t h e m a s s e s h a s l i n g e r e d t o h a u n t u s i n t o t h e 2 1 s t c e n t u r y . T h e d y i n g R o m a n E m p i r e ( A D . 5 3 - 1 1 7 B C ) u s e d t h e t h e a t r e to s e d a t e a n d a m u s e t h e m a s s e s . T h e C i r c u s i n R o m e p r o v i d e d 1 5 0 , 0 0 0 s p e c t a t o r s w i t h e n t e r t a i n m e n t t h a t f e a t u r e d w i l d c h a r i o t r a c e s a n d a r m e d c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n g l a d i a t o r s a n d s l a v e s ; m e n a n d w i l d a n i m a l s . T o f u r t h e r t a r n i s h t h e r e p u t a t i o n o f t h e t h e a t r e , O v i d i n h i s " A r t o f L o v e " s t a t e d , " M a n y a r e t h e o p p o r t u n i t i e s t h a t a w a i t y o u i n t h e C i r c u s " ( H i b b e r t 1 9 8 6 , 5 2 ) . S u c h s o c i a l i z a t i o n w a s n o t a l l o w e d i n t h e R o m a n C o l o s s e u m , a v a s t a m p h i t h e a t r e f o u r s t o r i e s h i g h . W i t h i n t h i s c o m p l e x s e a t i n g w a s s t r i c t l y s e g r e g a t e d , w i t h t h e p o o r a n d t h e w o m e n d e l e g a t e d t o t h e t o p floor. H e r e t h e u n e m p l o y e d o f R o m e w e r e t r e a t e d to t h e b l o o d i e s t o f d i v e r s i o n s - t h e i n f a m o u s " b r e a d a n d c i r c u s e s . " I t i s i n t h i s v e n u e t h a t t h e c o n t e s t a n t s h a i l e d t h e E m p e r o r w i t h t h e p o i g n a n t c r y - " W e w h o a r e a b o u t t o d i e , s a l u t e t h e e . " U n f o r t u n a t e l y , t h e t h e a t r e o f C o n s t a n t i n o p l e ( 3 3 0 - 5 6 5 ) , i n t h e e r a o f J u s t i n i a n , d i d n o t h i n g to c o n t r i b u t e to t h e u n s e e m l y r e p u t a t i o n o f t h e t h e a t r e . T h e o d o r a , a t o t a l l y a m o r a l a c t r e s s , p e r f o r m e d n a k e d o n t h e s t a g e a n d w a s a n d i s t o d a y , i n f a m o u s a n d f a m o u s b e c a u s e o f h e r o f f - s t a g e a n d o n - s t a g e c a r e e r s ( H i b b e r t 1 9 8 6 , 6 5 ) . P a r i s i n t h e d a y s o f L o u i s X I V ( 1 6 5 1 - 1 7 1 5 ) g a v e r i s e to a d y n a m i c v o i c e w i t h i n t h e t h e a t r e t h r o u g h t h e p l a y s o f M o l i è r e a n d R a c i n e ( H i b b e r t 1 9 8 6 , 1 3 4 - 3 5 ) . T h e t h e a t r e i n E n g l a n d h a d e v o l v e d i n m e d i e v a l t i m e s , a s a p a r t o f t h e m y s t e r y a n d m i r a c l e o f C h u r c h p a g e a n t s , h o w e v e r b y t h e 1 5 0 0 s a n d 1 6 0 0 s t h e a t r e b e c a m e a f o r m o f p o p u l a r e n t e r t a i n m e n t . T h e G l o b e a n d o t h e r t h e a t r e s o f f e r e d c o m e d y , t r a g e d y a n d h i s t o r i c a l d r a m a t o a u d i e n c e s c o m p o s e d o f a l l s t r a t a o f s o c i e t y . T h i s w a s t h e L o n d o n o f S h a k e s p e a r e a n d M a r l o w e . T h e n , a s n o w , m a n y o f t h e w r i t e r s a n d p e r f o r m e r s r e q u i r e d p a t r o n a g e o r s u p p o r t f r o m t h e w e a l t h y ( J o n e s 1 9 7 4 , 9 6 ) . V e n i c e w a s a c i t y a b a n d o n e d to p l e a s u r e i n t h e 1 8 t h c e n t u r y a n d t h e w e a l t h y o f t h e c i t y a t t e n d e d s p l e n d i d t h e a t r e s , b y s u b s c r i p t i o n o n l y , w h e r e t r a g e d i e s w e r e n e v e r p r e s e n t e d . S o m e t h e a t r e s p r o v i d e d g a m b l i n g l o u n g e s f o r t h e p a t r o n s ( H i b b e r t 1 9 8 6 , 1 6 4 - 6 5 , 2 1 0 ) . " P o U t e s o c i e t y " d e v e l o p e d t h r o u g h o u t E u r o p e , d u e to t h e e x p a n s i o n o f p r o s p e r i t y a n d t h e r e s u l t i n g l e i s u r e t i m e . M a n y h a d a s p i r a t i o n s t o b e l o n g . T h e a t r e s , o p e r a h o u s e s , p l e a s u r e g a r d e n s , a s s e m b l y r o o m s , r a c e c o u r s e s , c o f f e e h o u s e s , w h o l e n e i g h b o u r h o o d s , a n d e v e n t u a l l y , c o m p l e t e t o w n s w e r e d e v o t e d t o t h e p u r s u i t o f l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s b y t h e 1 9 t h c e n t u r y ( G i r o u a r d 1 9 8 5 , 1 8 1 ) . E u r o p e a n t h e a t r e w a s to find a n i m p o r t a n t i n c u b a t i o n e n v i r o n m e n t i n t h e B e r l i n o f t h e 1 9 2 0 s w h e r e t h e r e w e r e f o r t y o p e r a t i n g t h e a t r e s a n d t h r e e o p e r a h o u s e s . M a n y o f t h e e a r l y H o l l y w o o d film d i r e c t o r s a n d p r o d u c e r s w e r e t r a i n e d i n t h i s s t i m u l a t i n g a n d a v a n t g a r d e e n v i r o n m e n t . A l t h o u g h m a n y m i g h t v i e w t h e m o v i e t h e a t r e , m o d e r n o r h i s t o r i c , a s a p r o b l e m to b e a d d r e s s e d , a l b e i t r e l u c t a n t l y , t h e e d i f i c e h a s a d i s t i n g u i s h e d p a s t . T h e t h e a t r e i s a c k n o w l e d g e d to h a v e b e e n t h e first p e r m a n e n t p h y s i c a l s t r u c t u r e d e s i g n e d a n d b u i l t f o r l e i s u r e a c t i v i t y ( G i r o u a r d 1 9 8 5 , 1 8 4 ) . M e d i e v a l t o w n s u s e d c h u r c h e s , c o u r t y a r d s a n d s q u a r e s , b u t b y t h e 1 6 t h c e n t u r y p e r m a n e n t b u i l d i n g s w e r e c o n s t r u c t e d . T h e E l i z a b e t h a n a n d t h e J a c o b e a n t h e a t r e s o f L o n d o n w e r e o r i g i n a l l y b u i l t f o r t h e h a r d - t o i U n g l o w e r c l a s s e s . T h i s p o h c y w a s n o t a p p r o v e d o f b y t h e r i c h m e r c h a n t c l a s s e s w h o r a n t h e c i t y . T h e p r o u d t r a d i t i o n o f p u b l i c t h e a t r e , t h e t h e a t r e o f t h e m a s s e s , h a s i t s r o o t s i n E n g l a n d . T h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e , a " f u l l h o u s e . " 2 . 1 . 2 E a r l y T h e a t r e i n N o r t h A m e r i c a T r a d i t i o n a l t h e a t r e , o r w h a t i s k n o w n a s l e g i t i m a t e t h e a t r e i n N o r t h A m e r i c a , i s r o o t e d i n B r i t i s h c u l t u r e . T h e s t y l e o f t h e a t r e b u i l t a n d t h e p e r f o r m a n c e s p r e s e n t e d w e r e b a s e d o n t h e t r a d i t i o n s o f t h e c o m m u n i t y . F r o m t h e a d v e n t o f r e g u l a r s t e a m s h i p s e r v i c e b e t w e e n c o n t i n e n t s , t r a v e l l i n g p e r f o r m e r s f r o m E u r o p e a n d B r i t a i n w e r e a v i d l y p u r s u e d b y p r o m o t e r s a s t h e N o r t h A m e r i c a n a u d i e n c e w a s g e n e r a l l y s t a r v e d f o r c u l t u r a l s t i m u l a t i o n , e s p e c i a l l y o u t s i d e o f t h e m a j o r u r b a n c e n t r e s . T h e u r b a n a n d u r b a n e l e i s u r e d u p p e r c l a s s e s w e r e g e n e r a l l y w e l l a c c o m m o d a t e d . E l e g a n t t h e a t r e s w e r e c o n s t r u c t e d a n d t h a t w h i c h w a s i d e n t i f i e d o r a s s o c i a t e d w i t h " h i g h c u l t u r e " w a s a c t i v e l y p u r s u e d . D r a m a t i c p l a y s a n d r e a d i n g s , o p e r a , s y m p h o n y c o n c e r t s a n d b a l l e t s e r v e d a s a p a n a c e a f o r a g o v e r n i n g c l a s s t h a t w a s c o n s t i t u t e d o f a s e l f - c o n s c i o u s , " n o u v e a u r i c h e " i s o l a t e d f r o m E u r o p e a n r e f i n e m e n t s . T h i s w a s n o t t h e f o r m o f e n t e r t a i n m e n t t h a t w a s w i t h i n t h e e c o n o m i c o r c u l t u r a l r e a l m o f t h e m a j o r i t y o f t h e w o r k i n g c l a s s e s o f t h e t i m e . F u r t h e r m o r e , m a s s i v e E u r o p e a n i m m i g r a t i o n , f r o m t h e m i d - 1 9 t h c e n t u r y t o t h e b e g i n n i n g o f W o r l d W a r I , p o p u l a t e d e a s t e r n N o r t h A m e r i c a n c i t i e s w i t h a w i d e v a r i e t y o f w o r k i n g p e o p l e w h o s e r o o t s w e r e n o t B r i t i s h . L e i s u r e t i m e f o r t h e l a b o u r e r i n c r e a s e d d u e t o t h e d e m i s e o f t h e s i x - d a y w o r k - w e e k . T h e m a c h i n e a g e m a d e i t p o s s i b l e f o r t h e w o r k i n g c l a s s e s to i n d u l g e i n a c t i v i t i e s n o t d i r e c t l y r e l a t e d t o p r o v i d i n g f o r t h e n e c e s s i t i e s o f e x i s t e n c e o r r e l i g i o u s w o r s h i p . I t w a s a p e r f e c t e n v i r o n m e n t f o r t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f a f o r m o f t h e a t r e t h a t w o u l d a p p e a l to t h e n e w N o r t h A m e r i c a n a n d t h a t c o u l d b e e n j o y e d b y a l l . A s w e a r e a w a r e , b e f o r e t h e a d v e n t o f t h e m o v i n g p i c t u r e , t h e B r i t i s h m u s i c h a l l o r v a u d e v i l l e t h e a t r e flourished a s a f o r m o f p o p u l a r c u l t u r e t h r o u g h o u t N o r t h A m e r i c a . T h i s t h e a t r e f o r m u t i h z e d l o c a l t a l e n t w i t h i n t h e l a r g e r c i t i e s , i m p o r t e d a c t s f r o m E u r o p e a n d B r i t a i n , o r t r a v e l l i n g r o a d s h o w s t h a t g a i n e d a c c e s s t o t h e W e s t e r n c i t i e s b y w a y o f t h e r a i l w a y . T h i s w a s e s p e c i a l l y i m p o r t a n t i n C a n a d a a f t e r 1 8 8 5 . A v e r y h i g h q u a l i t y o f e n t e r t a i n m e n t t r a v e l l e d t h e c i r c u i t s t h a t w e r e o p e r a t e d b y c o n t r a c t i n g c o m p a n i e s b a s e d i n N e w Y o r k o r C h i c a g o . T h e a t r e o w n e r s v i e d w i t h o n e a n o t h e r to b e a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e b e s t o f t h e s e e n t e r t a i n m e n t c o n t r a c t o r s . B e a u t i f u l t h e a t r e s w e r e b u i l t i n m a j o r u r b a n a r e a s to c o m f o r t a b l y a c c o m m o d a t e b o t h t h e p a t r o n a n d t h e p e r f o r m e r s a n d t h e e l a b o r a t e s e t s t h a t m a n y o f t h e b e s t s h o w s c a r r i e d w i t h t h e m . T h r o u g h o u t t h e d e v e l o p i n g a r e a s o f t h e W e s t , s t r u c t u r e s w e r e b u i l t t o f a c i U t a t e t h e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t r a v e l l i n g e n t e r t a i n e r s a n d r o a d s h o w s , m a n y o f t h e m s u r p r i s i n g l y a t t r a c t i v e . 2 . 3 T H E A D V E N T O F T H E M O T I O N P I C T U R E E n t r e p r e n e u r s i n C a n a d a a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s w e r e v e r y q u i c k t o i d e n t i f y a n d m a r k e t t h e l a t e s t i n n o v e l t y a t t r a c t i o n s w i t h a v i e w t o c a p t u r i n g t h e a t t e n t i o n o f a p u b l i c s e e k i n g d i v e r s i o n . I t w o u l d n o t b e l o n g b e f o r e a m e d i u m n i c k n a m e d t h e " f l i c k s " w o u l d r e v o l u t i o n i z e m a s s c u l t u r e a n d e n t e r t a i n m e n t t h r o u g h o u t N o r t h A m e r i c a a n d t h e w o r l d . T h e d a t e w a s D e c e m b e r 2 8 , 1 8 8 5 . T h e p l a c e w a s t h e b a s e m e n t o f a c a f e i n P a r i s . T h e a u d i e n c e w a s t h e first p u b l i c o n e t o p a y i t s w a y t o w a t c h m o v i e s , p a y i n g t o b e f a s c i n a t e d b y m o v i n g i m a g e s . . . . T h e s c e n e s w e r e t a k e n f r o m o r d i n a r y l i f e , b u t t h e e x p e r i e n c e w a s f a r f r o m o r d i n a r y . T h i s e v e n t w a s p r o d u c e d b y t h e L u m i è r e b r o t h e r s , b u t t h e t e c h n o l o g y t h a t l e d to t h i s m o m e n t h a d b e e n t h e r e s u l t o f t h e i m a g i n a t i o n a n d p e r s i s t e n c e o f m a n y i n v e n t o r s , b o t h i n E u r o p e a n d A m e r i c a ( I n g e 1 9 8 9 , 4 4 6 ) . I n 1 8 9 1 , T h o m a s E d i s o n p a t e n t e d h i s r u d i m e n t a r y m o t i o n p i c t u r e c a m e r a , t h e k i n e t o s c o p e ( K a n d o 1 9 8 0 , 5 6 ) . T h i s m a r k e d t h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e m o t i o n p i c t u r e i n d u s t r y i n N o r t h A m e r i c a a n d t h e k i n e t o s c o p e q u i c k l y b e c a m e a m a r k e t a b l e c o m m o d i t y . T h e first p e n n y a r c a d e o p e n e d i n N e w Y o r k i n 1 8 9 4 a n d t h o s e w i t h a p e n n y c o u l d w a t c h a t h i r t y - s e c o n d p e e p s h o w . I n 1 8 9 6 l a r g e s c r e e n m o t i o n p i c t u r e s w e r e i n t r o d u c e d i n N e w Y o r k C i t y i n a v a u d e v i l l e h o u s e . D e v e l o p m e n t o f e x t e r n a l m o t i o n p i c t u r e p r o j e c t i o n l e d t o t h e o p e n i n g o f t h e f i r s t m o v i e t h e a t r e s - t h e n i c k e l o d e o n . T h e first p a l a t i a l m o v i e t h e a t r e , s e a t i n g 5 , 0 0 0 p a t r o n s , w a s c o n s t r u c t e d i n P a r i s i n 1 9 1 0 . I t w a s a d a p t e d f r o m a l e g i t i m a t e t h e a t r e k n o w n a s t h e H i p p o d r o m e a n d w a s r e n a m e d t h e G a u m o n t - P a l a c e ( V a l e r i o 1 9 8 2 ) . B y 1 9 1 0 t h e r e w e r e a t l e a s t t h i r t e e n t h o u s a n d o f t h e s e t h e a t r e s a c r o s s N o r t h A m e r i c a a t t e n d e d b y a s m a n y a s s e v e n m i l l i o n p e o p l e e v e r y d a y . I n N e w Y o r k C i t y a l o n e t h e r e w e r e 6 0 0 t h e a t r e s w h e r e , " F o r a n i c k l e i n i t i a l l y , a d i m e o r fifteen c e n t s l a t e r o n , o n e c o u l d n o w b e p a r t o f a n e n t i r e a u d i e n c e , w a t c h i n g m u l t i r e e l m o v i e s l a s t i n g a s l o n g a s t h i r t y m i n u t e s " ( K a n d o 1 9 8 0 , 2 2 6 - 2 7 ) . T h o m a s L a m b ' s R e g e n t T h e a t r e , N e w Y o r k C i t y , w a s t h e first m o v i e p a l a c e b u i l t i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s ( V a l e r i o 1 9 8 2 ) . A s o n e o p e n i n g n i g h t r e v i e w e r w r o t e , " [ T h e R e g e n t h a s ] a n e n v i r o n m e n t f o r p l e a s i n g , s o p e r f e c t i n a r t i s t i c d e t a i l , t h a t i t s e e m s a s i f t h e s e t t i n g w e r e a p r e r e q u i s i t e to t h e p i c t u r e , t h a t t o a n e d u c a t e d a u d i e n c e t h e t w o s h o u l d , a n d m u s t h e r e a f t e r , go t o g e t h e r " ( V a l e r i o 1 9 8 2 , 1 5 ) . T h e m o v i e s d i d n o t c a t c h o n i m m e d i a t e l y b u t w e r e c o n s i d e r e d a n o v e l t y , e s p e c i a l l y b y t h e t h e a t r e o w n e r s a n d m a n a g e r s w h o w e r e t o t a l l y i n v o l v e d w i t h t r a d i t i o n a l t h e a t r e a n d v a u d e v i l l e . W h e n i t d i d g a i n i n p o p u l a r i t y i t w a s a s a f o r m o f e n t e r t a i n m e n t t h a t a p p e a l e d t o t h e w o r k i n g c l a s s e s . W i t h o l d R y b c z y n s k i , i n Waiting for the Weekend d i s c u s s e s t h e i n f l u e n c e t h e m o v i e s h a d o n t h e r u l i n g s o c i e t y o f N e w Y o r k C i t y . B y 1 9 0 8 2 0 0 , 0 0 0 p e o p l e a t t e n d e d n i c k e l o d e o n s e v e r y d a y . " W h a t h a p p e n e d n e x t w a s c o m m o n i n t h e h i s t o r y o f l e i s u r e ; W h e n t o o m a n y p e o p l e h a d t o o m u c h f u n , s o m e o n e e v e n t u a l l y o b j e c t e d " - " I n h i s c l a s s i c s t u d y o f p l a y . Homo Ludens, J o h n H u i z i n g a o b s e r v e d t h a t s i n c e p l a y i s o l d e r a n d m o r e o r i g i n a l t h a n c i v i l i z a t i o n , i t i s f u n d a m e n t a l l y a n t i t h e t i c a l to i t " ( R y b c z y n s k i 1 9 9 1 , 1 3 7 ) . I n 1 9 0 8 t h e M a y o r o f N e w Y o r k c l o s e d a l l 5 5 0 m o v i e h o u s e s a n d n i c k e l o d e o n s i n t h e c i t y . H i s a c t i o n r e f l e c t e d t h e o u t r a g e t h a t m a n y f e l t t o w a r d t h e n e w f o r m o f p u b l i c e n t e r t a i n m e n t . R e s p e c t a b l e p e o p l e c o n s i d e r e d m o v i e s a n a f f r o n t a n d a c h a l l e n g e t o e s t a b l i s h m e n t s e n s i b i l i t i e s , n o t o n l y b e c a u s e o f t h e i r l o w b r o w a n d s o m e t i m e s r a c y s u b j e c t m a t t e r . . . b u t a l s o b e c a u s e t h e y d i d n o t a c c o r d w i t h m i d d l e - c l a s s c o n c e p t i o n s o f l e i s u r e . M o v i e h o u s e s w e r e l i k e n e d to s a l o o n s , a n d t h e y a t t r a c t e d c h i l d r e n a n d s i n g l e w o m e n - a n d f l a u n t e d S u n d a y c l o s i n g l a w s . R a c i a l p r e j u d i c e i n t h e c r u s a d e a g a i n s t m o v i e s w a s a l s o e v i d e n t b e c a u s e t h e y w e r e t o o p o p u l a r w i t h E u r o p e a n i m m i g r a n t s . . . m o r e t h a n h a l f o f t h e films w e r e f o r e i g n ; F r e n c h , G e r m a n , a n d I t a l i a n - a n d m a n y o f t h e t h e a t r e o w n e r s w e r e J e w i s h . H i g h l i c e n s i n g f e e s w e r e i n s t i t u t e d w h i c h w e n t f r o m $ 2 5 t o $ 5 0 0 , s t r i c t b u i l d i n g r e q u i r e m e n t s a n d c e n s o r s h i p w e r e i n s t i t u t e d ( R y b c z n s k i 1 9 9 1 , 1 3 7 ) . O n l y l a t e r d i d m i d d l e a n d u p p e r c l a s s e s b e c o m e p a r t o f t h e a u d i e n c e . T h i s i s i n c o n t r a s t to m a n y o t h e r l e i s u r e a c t i v i t i e s , " . . . w h e r e a s t h e g e n e r a l d i f f u s i o n p a t t e r n o f l e i s u r e a n d r e c r e a t i o n h a d b e e n d o w n w a r d , c i n e m a r e p r e s e n t s a n o t a b l e e x c e p t i o n " ( K a n d o 1 9 8 0 , 2 2 7 ) . A s t h e C a n a d i a n n e w s p a p e r m a n . B o b E d w a r d s , q u i p p e d i n 1 9 1 5 , ' o n e o f t h e m o s t p i t i f u l s i g h t s i n t h e w o r l d i s a h i g h b r o w p e r s o n t r y i n g to c o n c e a l h i s d e l i g h t i n t h e l o w c o m e d y o f a m o v i e s h o w ' " ( W e t h e r e l l 1 9 9 0 , 2 5 2 ) . T h e n i c k e l o d e o n s w e r e t h e first w a v e o f m a s s c u l t u r e a n d m a s s l e i s u r e i n A m e r i c a n h i s t o r y . T h e y p r o H f e r a t e d i n t h e t e n e m e n t d i s t r i c t s , p r o v i d i n g c h e a p r e c r e a t i o n t o a r a p i d l y i n d u s t r i a l i z i n g s o c i e t y a n d i t s g r o w i n g m a s s e s . . . . t h e m o v i e s w e r e t h e first m e d i u m o f p o p u l a r c u l t u r e t h a t s e e m e d to b e b r o a d l y c o n t r o l l e d b y p e o p l e w h o d i d n o t s h a r e t h e e t h n i c a n d r e l i g i o u s b a c k g r o u n d o f t h e t r a d i t i o n a l c u l t u r e e l i t e s ( K a n d o 1 9 8 0 , 2 2 7 ) . M o v i e s p r o v i d e d t h e w o r k i n g c l a s s e s w i t h a n i n e x p e n s i v e a v e n u e o f e s c a p e f r o m t h e i r U v e s o f t o i l a n d i n m a n y c a s e s , k n o w l e d g e w i t h r e s p e c t to m a n n e r s a n d m o r e s o f t h e i r n e w h o m e l a n d . T h e e n j o y m e n t o f s i l e n t m o v i e s w a s n o t h i n d e r e d b y t h e i n a b i l i t y t o s p e a k E n g l i s h . T h e p r o d u c e r s o f m o v i e s w e r e r e c e n t i m m i g r a n t s a l s o a n d u n d e r s t o o d t h e n e e d s o f t h e i r a u d i e n c e . M o s t e a r l y m o v i e s w e r e s i m p l e a n d p l o t l e s s b u t b y 1 9 0 3 , E d w i n S . P o r t e r , a c a m e r a m a n f o r T h o m a s E d i s o n , m a d e The Great Train Robbery. I t w a s t h e first m o v i e w i t h a s t o r y , p l o t , v i o l e n c e , a c t i o n c h a r a c t e r s , a n d o t h e r n e c e s s a r y i n g r e d i e n t s f o u n d i n m o d e r n film m a k i n g . T h e c r e a t o r s o f t h i s film s e n t t r a i n s s p e e d i n g a n d g u n f i g h t e r s ' b u l l e t s flying t o w a r d t h e c a m e r a , t o t h e s h o c k a n d d e l i g h t o f t h e first m o v i e - g o e r s . " T h e s e w e r e i l l u s i o n s t h a t s t a g e m a g i c i a n s c o u l d n e v e r h o p e t o d u p h c a t e " ( N a y l o r 1 9 8 1 , 1 3 ) . I n 1 9 0 9 M a c k S e n n e t t w e n t to H o l l y w o o d w h e r e h e o r i g i n a t e d t h e Keystone Cops; i n 1 9 1 1 , J e s s e L a s k y filmed Squaw Man. D . W . G r i f f i t h p r o d u c e d Birth of a Nation i n 1 9 1 4 w h i c h w e n t o n to e a r n $ 1 8 m i l l i o n i n p r o f i t s . T h e W e s t C o a s t film m a k i n g i n d u s t r y w a s e s t a b l i s h e d m a i n l y b y J e w i s h - E u r o p e a n i m m i g r a n t s - A d o l p h Z u k o r , L o u i s B . M a y e r , C a r l L a e m m a l e , W i l h a m F o x , a n d t h e W a r n e r B r o t h e r s " ( R y b c z y n s k i 1 9 9 1 , 1 3 9 ) . H o l l y w o o d , o r " T i n s e l T o w n " , w a s b o r n . H o l l y w o o d p r o d u c e d 8 4 1 f e a t u r e - l e n g t h films i n 1 9 1 8 a n d t h e s e w e r e s h o w n i n o v e r 2 1 , 0 0 0 t h e a t r e s a c r o s s t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d C a n a d a . T h e i n d u s t r y h a d b y n o w c a p t u r e d a s o l i d m i d d l e - c l a s s a u d i e n c e . T h e " s t a r " s y s t e m w a s e s t a b U s h e d a n d N o r t h A m e r i c a n " c e l l u l o i d r o y a l t y " s u c h a s C h a r l i e C h a p l i n a n d D o u g l a s F a i r b a n k s w o u l d e a r n a s m u c h a s $ 3 0 , 0 0 0 w e e k l y d u r i n g t h e 1 9 2 0 s ( K a n d o 1 9 8 0 , 2 2 8 ) . T h e f i l m s o f t h e 1 9 2 0 s b o r e t i t l e s l i k e M o n e y ! M o n e y ! M o n e y ! , g l a m o r i z i n g " j a z z b a b i e s " a n d s h o w i n g c h a m p a g n e b a t h s . . . . C o n t e m p o r a r y s o c i a l c r i t i c s p a r t i c u l a r l y o f a M a r x i a n p e r s u a s i o n f r e q u e n t l y a r g u e t h a t t h e p o p u l a c e i s k e p t e n s l a v e d b y m y t h s , p s e u d o - e v e n t s a n d i l l u s i o n s . . . . P s y c h o l o g i s t s e x p l a i n h o w H o l l y w o o d p r e s e n t s u s w i t h a d r e a m w o r l d o f g l a m o u r , s e x , w e a l t h , a n d y o u t h i n t o w h i c h w e p e r i o d i c a l l y e s c a p e t o find r e l e a s e f r o m a d r a b a n d h a r s h r e a l i t y ( K a n d o 1 9 8 6 , 2 2 8 ) . T h e r o a r i n g t w e n t i e s h a v e b e e n c o m p a r e d to t h e o v e r - i n d u l g e n t 1 9 8 0 s - " T h e h e d o n i s t i c , g l a m o u r o u s , a n d m a k e - b e l i e v e w o r l d d a n g l e d b e f o r e t h e m a s s e s b y t h e m e d i a a n d a l w a y s a t t h e c o r e o f A m e r i c a n m a s s c u l t u r e . . . . C r a s s m a t e r i a l i s m , b l a t a n t s e x u a l i t y , t h e c u l t o f y o u t h , t h e i l l u s o r y p u r s u i t o f e x c i t e m e n t a n d s u c c e s s - t h e s e w e r e t h e d o m i n a n t v a l u e s o f t h e 1 9 2 0 s ( K a n d o 1 9 8 0 , 2 2 8 ) . G r a n v i l l e T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t , V a n c o u v e r ( 1 9 3 0 s ) . 2.4 THE GOLDEN AGE OF THE MOVIE PALACE 2 . 4 . 1 A n A m e r i c a n P h e n o m e n o n " A n a c r e o f s e a t s i n a g a r d e n o f d r e a m s " ( L i n d s a y 1 9 8 3 , 4 5 ) . E n t e r t h e d r e a m h o u s e b r o t h e r s a n d s i s t e r s , l e a v i n g Y o u r d e b t s a s l e e p , y o u r h i s t o r y a t t h e d o o r ; T h i s i s t h e h o m e f o r h e r o e s , a n d t h i s l o v i n g D a r k n e s s a f u r y o u c a n a f f o r d . ( S . D a y L e w i s 1 9 3 8 , N e w s r e e l ) S t r u c t u r e s i n t e n d e d to s h o w c a s e l e g i t i m a t e t h e a t r e w e r e d e s i g n e d i n a m a n n e r b e f i t t i n g t h e u p p e r c l a s s e s - e l e g a n t e x a m p l e s o f c o n s e r v a t i v e c l a s s i c a r c h i t e c t u r a l s t y l e s , s a n c t i o n e d g o o d t a s t e i n d e c o r , a n d c o m f o r t i n f u r n i s h i n g s . T r a d i t i o n a l t h e a t r e s w e r e n o t o v e r l y l a r g e so t h a t t h e a c t o r s c o u l d b e s e e n a n d h e a r d b y t h e a u d i e n c e . A l s o , t h e p a t r o n s o f t h e t r a d i t i o n a l t h e a t r e f o r m e d a s m a l l s e g m e n t o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n . I t w a s o n l y a f t e r W o r l d W a r I t h a t t h e a t r e s b u i l t p r i m a r i l y t o s h o w c a s e s i l e n t m o t i o n p i c t u r e s w e r e o p e n e d i n a n y g r e a t n u m b e r . T h e A m e r i c a n m o v i e p a l a c e w a s a u n i q u e s t r u c t u r e i n t h a t i t w a s so l a r g e a n d so l a v i s h . T h e p o p u l a r i t y o f t h e m o v i n g p i c t u r e r e s u l t e d i n t h e b u i l d i n g o f u n i q u e c a t h e d r a l s d e v o t e d to t h e a c t i v i t y o f m o v i e g o i n g . M a n y t h e a t r e o w n e r s a n d o p e r a t o r s s t r u g g l e d t o i n t r o d u c e t h e n e w m o t i o n p i c t u r e s i n t o t h e i r n o r m a l t h e a t r e o p e r a t i o n s b y p r e s e n t i n g a p r o g r a m t h a t o f f e r e d d r a m a t i c p e r f o r m a n c e s , v a u d e v i l l e a c t s a n d t h e s h o r t f i l m s t r i p s . V a u d e v i l l e r e m a i n e d p o p u l a r b u t t h e t h e a t r e m a r q u e e s o f t h e d a y s h o w e d t h a t t h e " s i l e n t s " w e r e g a i n i n g e q u a l o r b e t t e r b i l l i n g . T h e o r c h e s t r a t h a t o r i g i n a l l y a c c o m p a n i e d t h e v a u d e v i l l e p e r f o r m e r s w a s r e p l a c e d b y a n o r g a n i s t w h o p l a y e d t h e W u r l i t z e r . T h e W u r l i t z e r o r g a n w a s d e s i g n e d e s p e c i a l l y t o p r o v i d e a m y r i a d o f s o u n d e f f e c t s a n d t h e e m o t i o n - r e n d e r i n g m u s i c n e c e s s a r y to t h e e n j o y m e n t o f t h e " s i l e n t " b y t h e p a t r o n . T h e s e s o u n d s w o u l d r e m a i n a n i m p o r t a n t p a r t o f t h e n o s t a l g i a l i n k e d w i t h t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e p a l a c e s o f t h i s p e r i o d o f A m e r i c a n h i s t o r y . T h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e p a l a c e i s a s u r v i v i n g a r t i f a c t o f a u n i q u e g r o w t h i n d u s t r y . A s m o v i e - g o i n g b e c a m e a n e s t a b l i s h e d l e i s u r e a c t i v i t y t h r o u g h o u t t h e N o r t h A m e r i c a n c o n t i n e n t , t h o s e i n v o l v e d i n t h e i n d u s t r y r e c o g n i z e d t h e g r e a t m o n e t a r y p o t e n t i a l a s s o c i a t e d w i t h m a s s e s o f p e o p l e a n d t h e t e c h n o l o g y t h a t a l l o w e d m a n y to s e e , h e a r , a n d b e e n t e r t a i n e d . B y 1 9 1 5 t h e r e w e r e 2 5 , 0 0 0 " p i c t u r e t h e a t e r s " ( W a s h . 1 9 8 1 , N o . 1 6 ) . T h e m o v i e p a l a c e s w e r e b u i l t e s s e n t i a l l y to s e r v e a p u r e l y e c o n o m i c p u r p o s e ; a t t r a c t i n g m o v i e g o e r s to t h e b o x o f f i c e . " W e s e l l t i c k e t s t o t h e a t r e s , n o t m o v i e s , " s a i d M a r c u s L o e w , o n e o f t h e g r e a t H o l l y w o o d m o v i e m o g u l s ( C h a r y n 1 9 8 9 ) . T h e a t r e e x t e r i o r s h e l p e d f i l l t h i s r o l e , u s i n g f o r m s a n d s t y l e s t h a t m a d e t h e m s t a n d o u t f r o m t h e i r s u r r o u n d i n g s . A b r o a d c a n o p y m a r q u e e , o f t e n a c c o m p a n i e d b y a t o w e r i n g v e r t i c a l s i g n , a n n o u n c e d t h e b u i l d i n g ' s n a m e a n d p u r p o s e . E a r l y n i c k e l o d e o n t h e a t r e s p i o n e e r e d t h e u s e o f o u t d o o r e l e c t r i c a l s i g n a g e . T h e t i c k e t b o o t h s w e r e e l a b o r a t e c o n f e c t i o n s t h a t s o u g h t to s e t t h e m o o d f o r t h e a d v e n t u r e s t h a t w e r e t o b e e n j o y e d i n s i d e . " T h e s h o w s t a r t e d o n t h e s t r e e t " ( M a r g o H s 1 9 9 2 ) . E a c h n e w t h e a t r e w a s d e s i g n e d i n o r d e r t o o u t d o a l l o t h e r s i n n o v e l t y a n d l u x u r y . T h e l o b b i e s w e r e l a r g e a n d e l a b o r a t e , m a n y d i s p l a y e d v a l u a b l e w o r k s o f a r t , c u s t o m - d e s i g n e d c a r p e t , m a r b l e , g i l t , a n d i m p o r t e d c h a n d e l i e r s . S o m e a d v e r t i s e m e n t s s u g g e s t e d t h a t t h e r e w a s m o r e to b e s e e n i n t h e l o b b y t h a n o n e c o u l d p o s s i b l y m a n a g e i n o n e v i s i t . T h e a u d i t o r i u m w a s o f t e n d e s i g n e d w i t h a t h e m e i n m i n d . T h e m o v i e p a l a c e w a s n o t j u s t a t h e a t r e a s w e k n o w i t t o d a y i n i t s " f u n c t i o n a l " m o d e . T h e " g o l d e n a g e " o f t h e m o v i e t h e a t r e p r o v i d e d t h e p a t r o n w i t h a n i n c r e d i b l e a r r a y o f f a c i l i t i e s a s e a c h t h e a t r e c h a i n a t t e m p t e d t o o u t d o t h e i r c o m p e t i t o r s i n l u x u r i o u s s u r r o u n d i n g s a n d s e r v i c e s . " P e o p l e d r e s s e d u p t o go to t h e m o v i e s " ( R y b c z y n s k i 1 9 9 1 , 1 4 0 ) . T h e m o v i e - g o e r m i g h t f i n d a r e s t a u r a n t , b a l l r o o m , b o w l i n g a l l e y , n u r s e r y f o r c h i l d r e n , f i r s t - a i d r o o m , s h o e - s h i n e s t a n d , b a r b e r s h o p , e l e g a n t l a d i e s r o o m w i t h i n d i v i d u a l d r e s s i n g t a b l e s , s m o k i n g l o u n g e f o r g e n t l e m e n , t e a r o o m , r e a d i n g r o o m c o m p l e t e w i t h m a g a z i n e s a n d s t a t i o n e r y , o r a d o g k e n n e l . O n e t h e a t r e b u i l t a m i n i a t u r e g o l f c o u r s e b e h i n d t h e t h e a t r e w h e n g o l f b e c a m e p o p u l a r . B e c a u s e t h e b u i l d i n g s w e r e so e n o r m o u s , t h e r e w a s a n e e d f o r a l a r g e s t a f f t o s e r v e t h e p u b l i c - a c o r p s o f u s h e r s a n d u s h e r e t t e s - e l e g a n t l y u n i f o r m e d w i t h c h a n g e s i n a t t i r e a p p r o p r i a t e f o r m a t i n e e a n d e v e n i n g p e r f o r m a n c e s , t h o r o u g h l y t r a i n e d t o g u i d e p e o p l e i n a n d o u t o f t h e i r s e a t s a n d a t t e n d to a n y e m e r g e n c i e s . T h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e r e p r e s e n t s , i n m a n y c a s e s , e x a m p l e s o f a t o t a l l y u n i q u e b u i l d i n g t y p e . D u r i n g t h e 1 9 2 0 s d o z e n s o f m o v i e " p a l a c e s " w e r e b u i l t t h r o u g h o u t N o r t h A m e r i c a to a c c o m m o d a t e t h e s e v e n t o t e n m i l l i o n w h o w e n t t o t h e m o v i e s e v e r y d a y . B y t h e 1 9 2 0 s g o i n g to t h e m o v i e s w a s t h e c h i e f l e i s u r e a c t i v i t y o f A m e r i c a n s . M o r e m o n e y w a s s p e n t o n t h e m o v i e s t h a n a n y o t h e r r e c r e a t i o n . T h e " B i g E i g h t " p r o d u c e r s , w h o o w n e d m o s t o f t h e t h e a t r e s , m a d e m o r e t h a n s e v e n h u n d r e d m o v i e s a y e a r ( R y b c z y n s k i 1 9 8 9 ) . T h e d e c o r o f m a n y o f t h e s e t h e a t r e s m i r r o r e d t h a t o f O l d W o r l d p a l a c e s b u t t h e u n i q u e d e v e l o p m e n t a n d f u n c t i o n a l n e c e s s i t i e s o f t h e f i l m b u s i n e s s d e m a n d e d m o r e t h a n i m i t a t i o n . T h e a r c h i t e c t s o f t h i s n e w b u i l d i n g t y p e w e r e f a c e d w i t h c o m p l e x d e m a n d s a l m o s t u n r i v a l e d a t t h e t i m e , r e q u i r i n g t h e d e s i g n o f a v a s t a u d i t o r i u m t h a t c o u l d s e a t u p to f i v e t h o u s a n d p a t r o n s w h i l e r e t a i n i n g e x c e l l e n t v i e w l i n e s , a v a s t c o l l e c t i o n o f r o o m s u n d e r o n e r o o f , a n d o f t e n s i t u a t e d o n i r r e g u l a r p l o t s o f l a n d . T h e d e s i g n h a d to t a k e i n t o c o n s i d e r a t i o n f i r e r e g u l a t i o n s a n d e x i t s . T h e h e a t i n g a n d c o o h n g o f s u c h l a r g e b u i l d i n g s p r e s e n t e d e n o r m o u s c h a l l e n g e s . A i r c o n d i t i o n i n g w a s e s p e c i a l l y i m p o r t a n t a s t h e s u m m e r p r o v e d to be t h e h i g h s e a s o n f o r m o v i e g o i n g . U n i q u e e x a m p l e s o f i n t e r i o r d e s i g n a r e r e p r e s e n t e d i n t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s t r u c t u r e . B a s i c a l l y t h e r e w e r e t w o s c h o o l s o f t h o u g h t a b o u t m o v i e t h e a t r e d e s i g n i n N o r t h A m e r i c a - o n e a d v o c a t e d t h e u s e o f N e o c l a s s i c a l f o r m s a n d m o t i f s a n d w a s k n o w n a s t h e " h a r d - t o p " s c h o o l ; t h e o t h e r a d v o c a t e d a m o r e e x p e r i m e n t a l t y p e o f s t r u c t u r e w h e r e i n a c o m p l e t e l y a r t i f i c i a l e n v i r o n m e n t c o u l d b e c r e a t e d a n d w a s k n o w n a s t h e " a t m o s p h e r i c " s c h o o l . I t h a d i t s r o o t s i n t h e W i n t e r g a r d e n s o f t h e B r i t i s h l e g i t i m a t e t h e a t r e ( L i n d s a y 1 9 8 3 , 4 5 ) . T h e " a t m o s p h e r i c s " w e r e d e s i g n e d to p r o v i d e t h e p a t r o n w i t h t h e i l l u s i o n t h a t h e w a s s i t t i n g i n a c o u r t y a r d o f a c a s t l e , u n d e r t r o p i c a l s k i e s o r i n a n i d y l l i c c o u n t r y s i d e . T w i n k l i n g s t a r s s h o n e o v e r h e a d ; c l o u d s d r i f t e d a c r o s s t h e a r t i f i c i a l s k y a n d m o o n l i g h t m i g h t a p p e a r t o h i g h U g h t t u r r e t s o n a s u r r o u n d i n g c a s t l e w a l l . A s i g n p r o m i n e n t l y d i s p l a y e d i n t h e o f f i c e o f t h e R u n n y m e d e , a n a t m o s p h e r i c i n T o r o n t o , r e a d , " T u r n o u t t h e s t a r s a n d s h u t o f f t h e c l o u d s b e f o r e l e a v i n g " ( L i n d s a y 1 9 8 3 , 4 5 ) . T h e r e w e r e f o u r i m p o r t a n t n a m e s i n m o v i e p a l a c e a r c h i t e c t u r a l d e s i g n i n N o r t h A m e r i c a . T h o m a s W . L a m b , a S c o t , w a s f a m o u s f o r t h e " h a r d t o p " a p p r o a c h to d e s i g n w a s i n f l u e n c e d b y t h e A d a m - s t y l e . M a r c u s P r i t i c e a , e d u c a t e d i n S c o t l a n d b u t b a s e d i n S e a t t l e , W a s h i n g t o n w a s f i r m l y s c h o o l e d i n t h e B e a u x - A r t s t r a d i t i o n . J o h n E b e r s o n , a n A u s t r i a n , i n s p i r e d t h e m o r e b i z a r r e d e s i g n s o f t h e " a t m o s p h e r i c s " a n d c r e a t e d a t l e a s t a h u n d r e d o f t h e s e t h e a t r e s d u r i n g h i s c a r e e r . C o r n e l i u s a n d G e o r g e R a p p , b a s e d i n C h i c a g o , d o m i n a t e d t h e a t r e d e s i g n i n t h a t a r e a . O t h e r t h e a t r e a r c h i t e c t s d e s i g n e d a c c o r d i n g to t h e i r m o o d o r a s t h e p r o m o t e r d i c t a t e d . A r t n o u v e a u i n f l u e n c e d t h e a t r e d e s i g n a t t h e t u r n o f t h e c e n t u r y a n d w a s r e f l e c t e d i n t h e first v a u d e v i l l e h o u s e a n d n i c k e l o d e o n . A r t d e c o i n f l u e n c e d n e w t h e a t r e d e s i g n a f t e r 1 9 2 9 , a n d a r t m o d e r n e c a n b e i d e n t i f i e d i n t h e a t r e s b u i l t i n t h e l a t e 1 9 3 0 s , 1 9 4 0 s a n d e a r l y 1 9 5 0 s ( N a y l o r 1 9 8 1 ) . T h e f u n c t i o n s o f t h e d e c o r a t i o n w e r e b o t h t r a d i t i o n a l a n d n o v e l . D e c o r a t i o n f u n c t i o n e d t o i n d i c a t e t h a t t h e b u i l d i n g w a s ' i m p o r t a n t ' : t h a t i s , i t i n d i c a t e d t h a t t h e s t a t u s o f t h e film i n d u s t r y a n d t h e t h e a t r e o w n e r ( d e c o r a t i o n w a s e q u a t e d w i t h w e a l t h ) . I t a l s o r e f l e c t e d t h e p r o s p e r i t y o f a N a t i o n t e m p o r a r i l y r i c h f r o m w a r . M o s t s i g n i f i c a n t l y , h o w e v e r , i t m a d e t h e p a t r o n f e e l i m p o r t a n t b e c a u s e h e o r s h e w a s p r o v i d e d w i t h a n e g a l i t a r i a n f o r m o f e n t e r t a i n m e n t i n t h e s u r r o u n d i n g s o f t r a d i t i o n a l l y e U t i s t d e c o r a t i o n - s o l e l y f o r t h e u s e s a n d e n j o y m e n t o f t h e m a s s e s ( S a f e r 1 9 8 2 , 7 ) . T h e e r a o f t h e c o n s t r u c t i o n o f t h e t r u e m o v i e p a l a c e i s c o n s i d e r e d to b e f r o m 1 9 1 9 - 1 9 2 9 . T h e m a j o r t e c h n o l o g i c a l a d v a n c e m e n t o f t h e 1 9 2 0 s w a s t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n o f s o u n d . T h e s u c c e s s o f A l J o l s o n ' s The Jazz Singer, filmed i n 1 9 2 8 , i n d i c a t e d t h a t t h e " t a l k i e s " w e r e s o o n t o r e p l a c e t h e s i l e n t films. " B y 1 9 2 9 , w e e k l y a t t e n d a n c e j u m p e d to a n e s t i m a t e d 1 1 0 m i l l i o n - t h e e q u i v a l e n t o f f o u r fifths o f t h e e n t i r e p o p u l a t i o n g o i n g to a s h o w o n c e a w e e k t h r o u g h o u t t h e e n t i r e y e a r " ( K a n d o 1 9 8 0 , 2 2 9 ) . T h e o f f i c i a l d e a t h o f v a u d e v i l l e i s c o n s i d e r e d to b e 1 9 2 9 . A g r e a t a t t r a c t i o n w a s t h a t o n e d i d n o t h a v e to r e s e r v e a s e a t a s o n e d i d w i t h t r a d i t i o n a l t h e a t r e . O n e c o u l d j u s t d e c i d e a n d do i t . T h e m o v i e - g o e r w a s g i v e n t h e o p p o r t u n i t y to l a u g h , c r y , a n d b e p a i n l e s s l y i n f o r m e d - t h e n e w s - o f - t h e w o r l d , t h e c a r t o o n a n d G r e t a G a r b o w e r e a l l p r o v i d e d f o r t h e p r i c e o f a t i c k e t . T h e m o v i e s n o t o n l y e n t e r t a i n e d b u t e n c o u r a g e d t h e w o r k i n g m a n to b e l i e v e t h a t h e t o o w a s p a r t o f t h e " A m e r i c a n d r e a m . " F o r a s m a l l a m o u n t o f m o n e y t h e l a b o u r e r a n d h i s f a m i l y w e r e , n o t o n l y e n t e r t a i n e d , b u t w e l c o m e d i n t o a l u x u r i o u s b u i l d i n g t h a t o n l y t h e w e a l t h i e s t c i t i z e n s o f E u r o p e w o u l d b e a l l o w e d t o e n t e r - o t h e r t h a n b y t h e s e r v a n t s ' e n t r a n c e . 2 . 4 . 2 F o c u s o n C a n a d i a n M o v i e P a l a c e s F o r t h e p u r p o s e s o f t h i s t h e s i s , a v e r y b r i e f o v e r v i e w o f m a j o r C a n a d i a n t h e a t r e s a n d t h e h i s t o r y o f t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n o f m o t i o n p i c t u r e s a r e i n c l u d e d s e p a r a t e l y i n o r d e r to d o c u m e n t t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e m o t i o n p i c t u r e i n d u s t r y t o C a n a d i a n c u l t u r e . C a n a d i a n e n t r e p r e n e u r s , t h e H o l l a n d b r o t h e r s , p e r s u a d e d T h o m a s E d i s o n to g r a n t t h e m e x c l u s i v e r i g h t s t o s h o w E d i s o n ' s f i l m s a c r o s s C a n a d a a n d i n a l l c i t i e s a n d t o w n s i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s w e s t o f C h i c a g o i n 1 8 9 7 . T h e H o l l a n d ' s f i r s t C a n a d i a n s h o w i n g w a s i n a p a r k i n O t t a w a ; a y e a r l a t e r t h e y i n t r o d u c e d T o r o n t o to t h e i n n o v a t i o n a t R o b e r t s o n ' s M u s s e e o n Y o n g e S t r e e t . T h i s w a s c o n s i d e r e d q u i t e a d v e n t u r e s o m e a s " T o r o n t o w a s so p u r i t a n i c a l . . . e v e n t h e w o r d ' v a u d e v i l l e ' w a s c o n s i d e r e d v u l g a r a n d u n a c c e p t a b l e " ( L i n d s a y 1 9 8 3 , 7 ) . E r n e s t O u i m e t o p e n e d a t h e a t r e c a l l e d t h e O u i m e s t o s c o p e i n M o n t r e a l i n 1 9 0 7 . I t w a s a 1 0 0 0 s e a t p i c t u r e p a l a c e c o m p l e t e w i t h a s e v e n p i e c e o r c h e s t r a a n d h a s a l e g i t i m a t e c l a i m a s t h e w o r l d ' s first t h e a t r e d e v o t e d o n l y t o t h e s h o w i n g o f m o v i e s . O u i m e t w a s s o i n n o v a t i v e t h a t h e c l a i m e d to a l s o h a v e t h e first s o u n d m o v i e w h e n h e m a n a g e d t o s y n c h r o n i z e t h e s h o w i n g o f t h e film w i t h s o u n d f r o m h i s n e w F r e n c h g r a m o p h o n e . H e a l s o p i o n e e r e d t h e s p e c i a l - p r i c e d m a t i n e e ( L i n d s a y 1 9 8 3 , 8 ) . M a n y o f t h e t h e a t r e s t h a t w e a s s o c i a t e w i t h t h e e a r l i e s t d a y s o f t h e m o t i o n p i c t u r e w e r e e i t h e r h a s t i l y c o n s t r u c t e d s t r u c t u r e s o r r e f i t t e d l e g i t i m a t e t h e a t r e s t h a t w e r e to b e f o u n d i n e v e r y u r b a n c e n t r e o f a n y s i z e a c r o s s t h e n a t i o n . T h e C i t y o f V i c t o r i a , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a h a s a h i s t o r y o f t h e a t r e t h a t i s e s p e c i a l l y w o r t h n o t i n g , l i n k e d to t h e B r i t i s h h e r i t a g e o f a m a t e u r t h e a t r e a n d m i m e . T h e h i s t o r i c V i c t o r i a T h e a t r e w a s b u i l t i n 188-5 a n d h a d a s e a t i n g c a p a c i t y o f 1 0 0 0 . P r e - W o r l d W a r I , t h e m a j o r i t y o f t h e a t r i c a l s p a c e s i n C a n a d a w e r e i n t e g r a t e d i n t o m u l t i - p u r p o s e b u i l d i n g s s u c h a s t h e t o w n h a l l . T h i s m a d e t h e e n d e a v o u r n o t o n l y m o r e e c o n o m i c a l l y f e a s i b l e b u t t h e s t r u c t u r e w a s a l s o m o r e v i s u a l l y i m p r e s s i v e ( H u n t e r 1 9 8 5 ) . H o w e v e r , i n s o m e c a s e s C a n a d a s e t t h e p a c e o r k e p t a b r e a s t i n t h e a r e a o f u n i q u e t h e a t r e c o n s t r u c t i o n . T h e R o y a l A l e x a n d r a w a s b u i l t i n T o r o n t o i n 1 9 0 7 a n d i s b e l i e v e d to b e t h e m o s t b e a u t i f u l l e g i t i m a t e t h e a t r e i n N o r t h A m e r i c a . T h e S h e a B r o t h e r s b u i l t t h e H i p p o d r o m e ( 3 , 2 0 0 s e a t s ) w h i c h o p e n e d i n 1 9 1 4 o n t h e s i t e t h a t i s n o w o c c u p i e d b y T o r o n t o ' s c i t y h a l l . " T h e H i p p o d r o m e w a s to T o r o n t o w h a t t h e P a l a c e w a s to N e w Y o r k o r t h e P a l l a d i u m to L o n d o n . I t a t t r a c t e d t h e v e r y b e s t v a u d e v i l l e a c t s f r o m a l l o v e r t h e w o r l d " ( L i n d s a y 1 9 8 3 , 3 0 ) . T h e i n t r o d u c t i o n o f t h e v i e w i n g o f m o v i n g p i c t u r e s a s a l e i s u r e a c t i v i t y m i r r o r s t h a t o f t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a s d o e s b a s i c t h e a t r e s t r u c t u r e . T h e i m p o r t a n t t h e a t r e a r c h i t e c t s a r e A m e r i c a n a r c h i t e c t s ; t h e m o v i n g p i c t u r e s v i e w e d a r e , f o r t h e m o s t p a r t , m a d e i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s . T h e C a n a d i a n t h e a t r e o w n e r w h o a t t e m p t e d t o i n n o v a t e w i t h r e s p e c t to m o t i o n p i c t u r e t e c h n o l o g y w a s f o r c e d t o u s e A m e r i c a n t e c h n o l o g y d e s i g n e d b y t h e m a j o r p r o d u c t i o n c o m p a n i e s i n o r d e r to c o n t i n u e to r e c e i v e t h e m o v i e p r o d u c t r e q u i r e d to s t a y i n b u s i n e s s . T h e H o l l y w o o d m o v i e m o g u l s a n d l o c a l e n t r e p r e n e u r s m a n a g e d t o p u t a m o v i e h o u s e o n e v e r y m a i n s t r e e t o f e v e r y t o w n i n N o r t h A m e r i c a I n d o i n g t h i s , t h e y c h a n g e d o u r l i v e s . C a n a d i a n s p a i d t h e i r n i c k l e s a n d d i m e s t o a t t e n d t h e n i c k e l o d e o n s a n d m o v i e s f o r t h e s a m e r e a s o n s a s A m e r i c a n s d i d , f o r e n t e r t a i n m e n t a n d d i v e r s i o n - a n d i n o r d e r to b e a b l e to d i s c u s s t h i s n e w a s p e c t o f A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e w i t h t h e i r f r i e n d s , f a m i l y a n d a s s o c i a t e s . T h e y e n j o y e d t h i s e x c i t i n g a n d i n n o v a t i v e f o r m o f e n t e r t a i n m e n t i n t h e a t r e s t h a t w e r e a s e l a b o r a t e l y d e c o r a t e d a n d e x o t i c a s t h e i r A m e r i c a n c o u n t e r p a r t s a l t h o u g h t h e m o v i e p a l a c e w a s a f i x t u r e o n l y i n t h e l a r g e u r b a n c e n t r e s ( C h a s e 1 9 8 8 ; H o l d s w o r t h 1 9 8 5 ) . J u l i u s C a h n ' s O f f i c i a l T h e a t r e G u i d e o f 1 9 2 9 l i s t s o v e r 9 0 C a n a d i a n t h e a t r e s . T h e m a j o r i t y o f t h e s e t h e a t r e s w e r e c o n s t r u c t e d b e t w e e n 1 8 9 0 a n d 1 9 2 0 a n d m o s t n o l o n g e r e x i s t . M a n y o f t h e m b u r n e d . E v e n m o r e o f t h e m w e r e d e m o l i s h e d to m a k e w a y f o r n e w i n n e r - c i t y c o n s t r u c t i o n p r o j e c t s . 2.5 THE DECLINE OF THE MOVIE PALACE T h e o l d m o v i e p a l a c e s t a n d s a s t h e p h y s i c a l m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f t h e d y n a m i c e c o n o m i c e n v i r o n m e n t t h a t i s so t y p i c a l o f N o r t h A m e r i c a . W h e n t h e m o v i e t h e a t r e n o l o n g e r p r o v e d p r o f i t a b l e , t h e i n d u s t r y e x p e n d e d l i t t l e s e n t i m e n t a h t y t o w a r d t h e s t r u c t u r e - e v e n t h e m o s t g r a n d m o v i e p a l a c e o f t h e m a l l . T h e f a m o u s R o x y , s i t u a t e d a f e w b l o c k s f r o m T i m e s S q u a r e i n N e w Y o r k C i t y w a s c o n s t r u c t e d i n 1 9 2 7 a n d w a s r a z e d i n 1 9 6 1 . I t a c c o m m o d a t e d n e a r l y s i x t h o u s a n d p a t r o n s a n d w a s c a l l e d b y i t s o w n e r , S a m u e l L . " R o x y " R o t h a p f e l , " T h e C a t h e d r a l o f t h e M o t i o n P i c t u r e " ( N a y l o r 1 9 8 7 , 2 4 9 ) . A c a r t o o n o f t h e p e r i o d s h o w s a c h i l d a n d h e r m o t h e r s t a r i n g i n t o t h e l a r g e o v a l r o t u n d a i n a w e . T h e m o p p e t a s k s , " M o m m y - d o e s G o d l i v e h e r e ? " ( N a y l o r 1 9 8 7 , 2 4 9 ) . W i t h t h e R o x y . . . t h e g a u d y , e n c h a n t i n g , p h o n y , p r e p o s t e r o u s , a n d l o v e l y G o l d e n A g e o f t h e M o v i e P a l a c e r e a c h e d i t s K l i e g - l i t p i n n a c l e . A r c h i t e c t W . W . A h l s c h l a g e r d e s i g n e d t h e R o x y a s m o r e t h a n j u s t a m o v i e t h e a t r e . H e i n c o r p o r a t e d i n t o i t s d e s i g n a c o m p l e t e h o s p i t a l , t h e l a r g e s t m u s i c a l l i b r a r y o f a n y t h e a t r e , a n d a m o d e r n r e f r i g e r a t i o n a n d v e n t i l a t i o n s y s t e m . . . . T h e a d v e r t i s i n g l i t e r a t u r e f o r t h e R o x y b o a s t e d o f a l i g h t i n g p l a n t ' s u f f i c i e n t to p o w e r a c i t y o f a q u a r t e r o f a m i l l i o n ' ( N a y l o r 1 9 8 1 , 1 0 9 - 1 1 0 ) . S u r v i v i n g i n t h e t h e a t r e b u s i n e s s a n y w h e r e i n N o r t h A m e r i c a w a s a c h a l l e n g e . T h e t h e a t r e o w n e r o r m a n a g e r w h o a t t e m p t e d to o p e r a t e a n y w h e r e o u t s i d e o f a m a j o r c e n t r e w e r e f o r c e d t o f i g h t f o r t r a v e l l i n g p e r f o r m e r s d u r i n g t h e e r a o f l e g i t i m a t e t h e a t r e a n d v a u d e v i l l e . N o s o o n e r w a s h e e s t a b l i s h e d w i t h a r e s p e c t a b l e s t r u c t u r e a n d a c o n t r a c t w i t h a m a j o r c i r c u i t m a n a g e m e n t c o m p a n y , t h a n t h e " f l i c k s " w e r e i n t r o d u c e d . T h e r e w e r e f e w t h e a t r e s t h a t c o u l d p r e s e n t a l l m e d i u m s w e l l . A b o u t t h e t i m e t h e i n v e s t o r d e c i d e d to p u t h i s f a i t h i n t h e s i l e n t m o v i n g p i c t u r e - b u i l t t h e t h e a t r e c o m p l e t e w i t h s c r e e n , p r o j e c t i o n b o o t h a n d W u r l i t z e r - s o u n d w a s i n t r o d u c e d . T h i s i n n o v a t i o n d e m a n d e d t h e i n s t a l l a t i o n o f s o u n d e q u i p m e n t a n d o t h e r c o n s t r u c t i o n a l t e r a t i o n s . M a n y e n t r e p r e n e u r s w e r e n o t p r e p a r e d t o a d a p t so r e a d i l y . T h e l a r g e A m e r i c a n t h e a t r e o r g a n i z a t i o n s b o u g h t o u t t h e i n d e p e n d e n t s a n d t h e r e f o r e g a i n e d c o n t r o l o v e r a l l m o v i e d i s t r i b u t i o n . B y t h e l a t e r 1 9 3 0 s f o u r firms c o n t r o l l e d 8 0 p e r c e n t o f t h e m a r k e t a n d b y t h e e n d o f t h e 1 9 4 0 s , 7 0 p e r c e n t o f a l l p r o d u c t r e n t a l r e c e i p t s . T h e m o v i e p a l a c e b u i l d i n g b o o m f r o m 1 9 2 7 to 1 9 2 9 r e s u l t e d i n a n o v e r a b u n d a n c e o f t h e a t r e s w i t h t o o m a n y s e a t s t o fill ( N a y l o r 1 9 8 7 ) . E x t r a v a g a n t p r o m o t i o n a l s t u n t s w e r e u s e d i n o r d e r t o b o o s t a t t e n d a n c e a n d t h e c o m p e t i t i o n w a s f i e r c e . P r i z e s , f r e e g i f t s , a n d v i s i t s b y m o v i e c e l e b r i t i e s w e r e o f f e r e d . M o v i e t i c k e t s a l e s d r o p p e d o f f d u r i n g t h e d e p r e s s i o n , h o w e v e r t h r o u g h o u t W o r l d W a r H a t t e n d a n c e w a s v e r y h i g h . I t h a s b e e n s t a t e d t h a t d u r i n g t h e 1 9 4 0 s a u d i e n c e s w o u l d p a y to s e e a n y t h i n g ( P a r k e r 1 9 8 6 ) . H o w e v e r , t h e b e s t o f t i m e s w e r e o v e r . T h e d e m i s e o f t h e d o w n t o w n m o v i e p a l a c e i s d i r e c t l y l i n k e d w i t h o v e r - b u i l d i n g , t h e u r b a n r e n e w a l p r o j e c t s o f t h e 1 9 6 0 s , r a p i d s u b u r b a n g r o w t h t h r o u g h o u t t h e 1 9 5 0 s a n d 1 9 6 0 s a n d w i t h t h e c o m p e t i t i o n p r e s e n t e d b y t h e t e l e v i s i o n s e t i n e v e r y s u b u r b a n l i v i n g r o o m . T h e l a r g e s i n g l e - s c r e e n d o w n t o w n m o v i e p a l a c e s t r u g g l e d t h r o u g h t h e s i x t i e s a n d i n t o t h e s e v e n t i e s . A s b o x o f f i c e r e c e i p t s d r o p p e d s o m e o f t h e o l d t h e a t r e s b e c a m e s e c o n d - r u n a n d d o u b l e - f e a t u r e h o u s e s . M a n y o l d t h e a t r e s w e r e n o t m a i n t a i n e d a n d d e t e r i o r a t e d r a p i d l y . S o m e w e r e , a s t h e P a n t a g e s i n T o r o n t o , m a d e i n t o m u l t i p l e x t h e a t r e s d u r i n g t h e 1 9 7 0 s a s t h e o w n e r s a n d d i s t r i b u t o r s f o u g h t t o s h o w m o r e i n l e s s s p a c e a n d a t l e s s c o s t . A n i g h t o u t a t t h e m o v i e s i s c e r t a i n l y n o t w h a t i t u s e d to b e . M o d e r n t h e a t r e s a r e m o r e a k i n to f a s t - f o o d r e s t a u r a n t s , d e l i v e r i n g a p r o d u c t i n a s m a l l , a u s t e r e , n o - n o n s e n s e e n v i r o n m e n t . M a n y o l d t h e a t r e s s i t u n u s e d a n d a w a i t p o s s i b l e d e m o l i t i o n o r i n s e n s i t i v e r e n o v a t i o n a n d r e u s e t h a t h a s l i t t l e r e l e v a n c e t o t h e s t r u c t u r e ' s o r i g i n a l s i g n i f i c a n c e w i t h i n t h e c o m m u n i t y . S o m e o f t h e s e g r a n d o l d m o v i e p a l a c e s h a v e b e e n r e s t o r e d a n d a r e f u n c t i o n i n g a s u n i q u e c u l t u r a l a n d a r t s c e n t r e s w i t h i n p r i v i l e g e d c o m m u n i t i e s . R o b e r t H u n t e r i n h i s s t u d y " T h e a t r e A r c h i t e c t u r e i n C a n a d a , a S t u d y o f P r e - 1 9 2 0 s C a n a d i a n T h e a t r e s " ( H u n t e r 1 9 8 5 , ) s t a t e s t h a t o n l y e l e v e n C a n a d i a n t h e a t r e s o f h i s t o r i c i n t e r e s t h a v e b e e n p r e s e r v e d ( A p p e n d i x A ) . L i n d s a y ' s s t u d y o n C a n a d i a n t h e a t r e s . Turn Out The Stars Before Leaving, m a i n t a i n s t h a t " T h e O r p h e u m i s o n e o f t h e b r i g h t s p o t s i n t h e h i s t o r y o f C a n a d i a n t h e a t r e s " ( L i n d s a y 1 9 8 3 , 1 5 7 ) . "Face it, Charlie. Progress is fifty-per-cent destruction." D r a w i n g b y R o w l a n d B. W i l s o n ; ® 1965 T h e N e w Y o r k e r M a g a z i n e , li 2.6 THE RESTORATION AND REUSE OF HISTORIC MOVIE THEATRES . . . i n t h e 1 9 7 0 s t h e t i d e t u r n e d a g a i n f o r p i c t u r e p a l a c e s . S c a t t e r e d c r i e s a r o s e i n m a n y c i t i e s to s a v e b e l o v e d o l d t h e a t r e s . D o w n t o w n m o v i e h o u s e s w e r e j u s t w a i t i n g to b e r e b o r n a s t h e n o w - u b i q u i t o u s p e r f o r m i n g a r t s c e n t e r s . T h e e r a o f p r e s e r v a t i o n h a d a r r i v e d i n A m e r i c a ( N a y l o r 1 9 8 7 , 2 7 ) . S o m e C a n a d i a n s a r e e n j o y i n g v e r y s u c c e s s f u l m o v i e t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n s e s p e c i a l l y t h o s e t h a t r e s i d e i n t h e l a r g e r u r b a n c e n t r e s s u c h a s T o r o n t o a n d V a n c o u v e r . T w o e x c e p t i o n a l C a n a d i a n r e n o v a t i o n p r o j e c t s a r e t h e P a n t a g e s a n d t h e L y r i c / W i n t e r G a r d e n t h e a t r e c o m p l e x . T h e s e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s o c c u r r e d d u e to p r i v a t e i n i t i a t i v e o r p r o v i n c i a l g o v e r n m e n t a c t i o n . S e l d o m h a s a c i t y t a k e n t h e i n i t i a t i v e t o s a v e a t h e a t r e . T h e O r p h e u m i n V a n c o u v e r i s o n e o f t h e f e w e x a m p l e s o f t h i s a c t i o n , w h e r e b y t h e C o u n c i l o f t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r a n d t h e c i t i z e n s w o r k e d t o g e t h e r to s a v e a c o m m u n i t y t r e a s u r e . T h e G o v e r n m e n t o f t h e P r o v i n c e o f O n t a r i o r e c o g n i z e d t h e v a l u e o f o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e s w h e n i t p u r c h a s e d t h e L y r i c / W i n t e r G a r d e n C o m p l e x , o n Y o n g e S t r e e t i n T o r o n t o a n d d e c l a r e d i t to b e a h i s t o r i c s i t e . T h e t h e a t r e s a r e n o w o w n e d b y t h e O n t a r i o H e r i t a g e F o u n d a t i o n , w h i c h h a s f o r m e d a s p e c i a l u n i t to u n d e r t a k e r e s t o r a t i o n s . T h e W i n t e r G a r d e n , 1 , 4 2 2 s e a t s , w a s b u i l t o v e r t h e t o p o f L o e w ' s V a u d e v i l l e T h e a t r e , 2 , 1 9 4 s e a t s , r e n a m e d t h e L y r i c . I t w a s o n e o f t h e m o s t e x p e n s i v e t h e a t r e p r o j e c t s o f i t s e r a a n d i t p r e s e n t e d u n i q u e c o n s t r u c t i o n c h a l l e n g e s . I t t o o k 1 0 0 h o r s e s t o l i f t t h e m a i n b e a m i n t o p l a c e t o c a r r y t h e w e i g h t o f t h e l o w e r t h e a t r e s ' b a l c o n y a n d t h e W i n t e r G a r d e n s e v e n s t o r i e s a b o v e ( L i n d s a y 1 9 8 3 ) . T h e t h e a t r e s w e r e b o t h o p e r a t i n g b y F e b r u a r y o f 1 9 1 4 a n d c o s t $ 1 . 4 m i l h o n to c o n s t r u c t . T h e W i n t e r G a r d e n , d e s i g n e d b y C h a r l e s W . L a m b , a p p e a r s to h a v e b e e n t h e f i r s t o f i t s k i n d i n N o r t h A m e r i c a . I t w a s b u i l t i n 1 9 1 4 , a b o u t f i v e y e a r s b e f o r e t h e c r a z e f o r " a t m o s p h e r i c s " s w e p t t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s ( L i n d s a y 1 9 8 3 , •52). W h e n s o u n d w a s i n t r o d u c e d L o e w ' s T h e a t r e w a s r e n a m e d t h e E l g i n a n d w a s o p e r a t e d a s a m o v i e t h e a t r e b y F a m o u s P l a y e r s u n t i l 1 9 8 2 . T h e W i n t e r G a r d e n w a s s e a l e d u p i n 1 9 2 8 a n d w a s f o u n d to b e a t r e a s u r e - t r o v e o f w o n d e r f u l d e c o r a t i v e w o r k w h e n e x a m i n e d i n 1 9 8 0 . T h e g o v e r n m e n t h a s r e c e n t l y i n v e s t e d m i l l i o n s o f d o l l a r s to r e s t o r e t h e t w o t h e a t r e s to t h e i r o r i g i n a l s p l e n d o r . T h e E l g i n T h e a t r e p r e s e n t e d t h e s t a g e s h o w " C a t s " , " . . . t h e f i r s t l i v e s h o w o n t h e b o a r d s i n a l m o s t 6 0 y e a r s a n d o n e t h a t h a s a l r e a d y m a d e b o x o f f i c e h i s t o r y , e a r n i n g m o r e t h a n $ 2 2 m i l l i o n d o l l a r s " ( Y a t e s 1 9 8 6 , 2 2 ) . A n e x a m p l e o f p r i v a t e i n i t i a t i v e a n d h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n i s T o r o n t o ' s P a n t a g e s , 3 6 0 0 s e a t s , 2 2 , 5 0 0 s q u a r e f e e t , b u i l t i n T o r o n t o , d e s i g n e d b y T h o m a s W . L a m b . I t i s a b e a u t i f u l " h a r d - t o p " a n d c o s t $ 1 m i l l i o n t o b u i l d . I t o p e n e d i n 1 9 2 0 a n d w a s p a r t o f t h e i n f a m o u s A m e r i c a n P a n t a g e s c h a i n . I n t h e 1 9 2 0 s t h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e C i r c u i t o p e n e d t h e a t r e s i n V a n c o u v e r , V i c t o r i a , E d m o n t o n , C a l g a r y , W i n n i p e g a n d T o r o n t o ( H u n t e r 1 9 8 5 , 5 1 ) . T h e T o r o n t o P a n t a g e s r e v e r t e d t o R K O a n d b e c a m e t h e f l a g s h i p o f F a m o u s P l a y e r s C a n a d a L t d . F a m o u s P l a y e r s i s a s u b s i d i a r y o f t h e A m e r i c a n - b a s e d m u l t i n a t i o n a l G u l f a n d W e s t e r n . C a n a d i a n O d e o n T h e a t r e s w a s B r i t i s h o w n e d u n t i l i t w a s p u r c h a s e d b y C a n a d i a n i n v e s t o r s i n 1 9 8 5 . T h e t w o c o m p a n i e s " e x e r c i s e a v i r t u a l m o n o p o l y o v e r d i s t r i b u t i o n o f A m e r i c a n f i l m s " ( B e l k a o u i 1 9 8 2 , 4 4 3 ) . U n f o r t u n a t e l y , t h e P a n t a g e s h a d s u f f e r e d t h e d e s e c r a t i o n i n v o l v e d i n t h e m o d e r n i z a t i o n o f so m a n y h i s t o r i c m o v i e p a l a c e s ; t h e t h e a t r e w a s m a d e i n t o a s i x p l e x i n 1 9 7 2 a t a c o s t o f $ 2 m i l l i o n . F o r t u n a t e l y , O d e o n C i n e p l e x o f C a n a d a p u r c h a s e d a p o r t i o n o f t h e r e n o v a t e d t h e a t r e i n 1 9 8 6 , t h e I m p e r i a l S i x . A n e x e c u t i v e , G a r t h D r a b i n s k y , w a s a p p a l l e d a t w h a t h a d b e e n d o n e t o t h e P a n t a g e s a n d i m m e d i a t e l y s t a r t e d to e x a m i n e o p t i o n s to r e s t o r e t h e " b e a u t i f u l o l d m o n u m e n t " t o i t s o r i g i n a l c o n d i t i o n ( O l s h e s k i 1 9 8 9 , 6 6 - 8 8 ) . M r . D r a b i n s k y w a s c o n c e r n e d t h a t f a r too l i t t l e w a s b e i n g d o n e t o p r e s e r v e t h o s e t h a t r e m a i n e d , a n d h e c o m m i t t e d h i m s e l f a n d h i s c o m p a n y to t h e r e s t o r a t i o n w h e n e v e r f e a s i b l e o f a n y o f t h e c o m p a n y ' s n e w l y a c q u i r e d t h e a t r e s t h a t p o s s e s s e d a r c h i t e c t u r a l o r c u l t u r a l m e r i t ( O l s h e s k i 1 9 8 9 , 6 9 ) . D r a b i n s k y d i s c o v e r e d t h e p e r f e c t e c o n o m i c v e h i c l e - t h e l i c e n s e t o p r o d u c e Phantom of the Opera - a " b l o c k - b u s t e r " t h a t w o u l d b r i n g i n t h e m a n y m i l l i o n s t h a t t h e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t w o u l d c o s t . H e w a s a b l e t o c o n v i n c e F a m o u s P l a y e r s to r e l i n q u i s h t h e r e s t o f t h e o r i g i n a l b u i l d i n g w h e n i t w a s a s c e r t a i n e d t h a t t h e s t r u c t u r e w o u l d n o t o p e r a t e a s a m o v i e t h e a t r e . F a m o u s P l a y e r s a t t a c h e s a c o n d i t i o n t h a t s t a t e s t h a t t h e a t r e s i t a b a n d o n s w i l l n o t b e o p e r a t e d a s m o v i e t h e a t r e s a f t e r a s a l e t a k e s p l a c e . I n J u l y o f 1 9 8 9 T h e A r c h i t e c t u r a l C o n s e r v a n c y A w a r d o f M e r i t w a s a w a r d e d to G a r t h D r a b i n s k y f o r r e s t o r i n g a n d r e t u r n i n g a l a n d m a r k t h a t w o u l d n o t h a v e o t h e r w i s e b e e n p r e s e r v e d ( O l s h s k i 1 9 8 9 , 1 1 0 ) . D r a b i n s k y a l s o b e l i e v e s i n t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s a s m o v i e t h e a t r e s . H e l a v i s h l y r e s t o r e d t h r e e h i s t o r i c c i n e m a s i n M a n h a t t a n i n t h e l a t e 1 9 8 0 s . " C l a s s p a y s . . . t h e e n t h u s i a s m o f t h e p u b h c f o r t h e s e p l a c e s i s u n b r i d l e d . T h e y h a v e a b s o l u t e l y f a l l e n i n l o v e w i t h t h e s e t h e a t r e s " (Sun, 2 0 J u n e 1 9 8 7 ) . 2.7 HERITAGE POLICY OVERVIEW I n l i g h t o f t h e " w r i n g i n g o f h a n d s " w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e l o s s o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e p a l a c e s a n i m p o r t a n t q u e s t i o n c o m e s to t h e f o r e . W h a t a b o u t h e r i t a g e p o h c i e s ? I s t h e r e n o t i n p l a c e a v a r i e t y o f l e g i s l a t i o n , r u l e s a n d r e g u l a t i o n s , a n d t h e p o w e r t o m a k e h i s t o r i c d e s i g n a t i o n s ? H o w a r e p u b l i c i n t e r e s t s p r o t e c t e d w h e n h e r i t a g e c o n c e r n s c o n f l i c t w i t h p r i v a t e o w n e r s h i p a n d p l a n n i n g a n d d e v e l o p m e n t l a n d u s e p o l i c i e s ? H e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n i s d e f i n e d , b y i n t e r n a t i o n a l c o n s e n s u s , " . . . a s t h e b o d y o f l a w w h i c h d e a l s w i t h t h e i d e n t i f i c a t i o n a n d p r o t e c t i o n o f s i t e s a n d a r e a s o f h i s t o r i c a n d / o r a r c h i t e c t u r a l i n t e r e s t " ( W a r d 1 9 8 6 , 1). F i n a n c i a l a i d to s u c h s i t e s a n d a r e a s c a n a l s o b e a c o m p o n e n t o f s u c h l e g i s l a t i o n a l t h o u g h i t i s u s u a l l y n o t s e t o u t i n t h e s t a t u t e s . I t h a s b e e n o b v i o u s f o r y e a r s t h a t t h e f a t e o f h e r i t a g e s t r u c t u r e s c a n n o t b e l e f t to t h e d i s c r e t i o n a r y w h i m s o f p r i v a t e p r o p e r t y o w n e r s h i p o r p u b l i c m i s m a n a g e m e n t . F o r t h i s r e a s o n , v a r i o u s f o r m s o f l e g i s l a t i o n h a v e b e e n e n a c t e d . I n o r d e r t o b e t t e r u n d e r s t a n d t h e d e a t h a n d l i f e o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e p a l a c e s i n C a n a d a a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s , i t i s n e c e s s a r y t o r e v i e w t h e h e r i t a g e p r o t e c t i o n p r o v i d e d b y l e g i s l a t i o n i n b o t h c o u n t r i e s a t t h e l o c a l , s t a t e a n d p r o v i n c i a l a n d f e d e r a l l e v e l s . 2 . 7 . 1 A m e r i c a n H e r i t a g e P o l i c y C o n c e r n e d A m e r i c a n s r e a l i z e t h a t t h e b e s t w a y t o s a f e g u a r d h i s t o r i c r e s o u r c e s i s t h r o u g h l o c a l c o n t r o l . M a n y c o m m u n i t i e s t h r o u g h o u t t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s h a v e a d o p t e d h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n o r d i n a n c e s d e s i g n e d to p r o t e c t t h e i r c u l t u r a l r e s o u r c e s a n d t o e n c o u r a g e e c o n o m i c g r o w t h . I n t e r e s t e d c i t i z e n s a n d t h e b u s i n e s s c o m m u n i t y v o t e f o r h e r i t a g e a n d c u l t u r a l f u n d i n g t h r o u g h l o c a l b o n d i s s u e s a n d a f f e c t h e r i t a g e p o l i c y t h r o u g h a c t i v e l o b b y i n g a t a l l g o v e r n m e n t l e v e l s f o r t a x i n c e n t i v e s a n d m a t c h i n g g r a n t s f o r h e r i t a g e p r o j e c t s t h a t b r i n g w e a l t h i n t o t h e i r c o m m u n i t i e s . A l t h o u g h f e d e r a l a n d s t a t e l a w s h a v e e s t a b l i s h e d s o m e p r o j e c t r e v i e w f u n c t i o n s a n d r e h a b i l i t a t i o n i n c e n t i v e s t h r o u g h t h e v a r i o u s s t a t e h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n o f f i c e s , t h e l o c a l o r d i n a n c e c o n t i n u e s t o s e r v e a s t h e m o s t i m p o r t a n t a n d m o s t c o m p r e h e n s i v e t o o l a v a i l a b l e t o d a y f o r t h e i d e n t i f i c a t i o n , e v a l u a t i o n a n d p r o t e c t i o n o f h i s t o r i c p r o p e r t i e s . T h i s s y s t e m a t i c a p p r o a c h c a n h e l p e s t a b l i s h h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n a s a s i g n i f i c a n t p a r t o f a c o m m u n i t y ' s l o n g - t e r m d e v e l o p m e n t p l a n , " . . . e n s u r i n g t h a t h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n c o n c e r n s a r e c o n s i d e r e d a n d a d d r e s s e d a s a n o r m a l , a c c e p t e d p a r t o f t h e d a y - t o - d a y b u s i n e s s o f t h e c i t y o r v i l l a g e " ( K i t c h e n 1 9 8 9 , 1). A s i n C a n a d a , t h e c i t i z e n i s a p t t o o v e r e s t i m a t e o r m i s u n d e r s t a n d t h e s i g n i f i c a n c e o f t h e i n c l u s i o n o f a b u i l d i n g o r s i t e o n t h e N a t i o n a l R e g i s t e r o f H i s t o r i c P l a c e s , b e l i e v i n g t h a t t h e s i g n i f i c a n t l a n d m a r k s i n t h e i r a r e a w i l l b e w e l l - p r o t e c t e d a s a r e s u l t o f a p p e a r i n g o n t h e l i s t . W h e n t h e y r e a l i z e t h a t m o s t b u i l d i n g a n d s i t e s a r e n o t p r o t e c t e d i n a n y r e a l w a y b y t h e N a t i o n a l R e g i s t e r l i s t i n g , t h e y o f t e n s e e k p a s s a g e o f a l o c a l o r d i n a n c e , t h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t o f a l a n d m a r k s c o m m i s s i o n o r d e s i g n r e v i e w b o a r d . T h e A m e r i c a n b u s i n e s s c o m m u n i t y h a s c o m e to r e c o g n i z e t h a t l o c a l h i s t o r i c d e s i g n a t i o n a n d r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s a r e i m p o r t a n t f o r t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f s p i n - o f f b u s i n e s s e s a n d t o u r i s m a s t h e y a t t r a c t a n d e n c o u r a g e p e o p l e to v i s i t , s h o p , a n d r e c r e a t e i n t h e c e n t r a l c i t y . L o c a l l a n d m a r k s c o m m i s s i o n s o r d e s i g n r e v i e w b o a r d s a r e u s e d to e n s u r e t h a t t h e p h y s i c a l i n t e g r i t y o f t h e b u i l d i n g s a r e r e s p e c t e d a n d r e s t o r a t i o n s a r e u s e d to e n h a n c e t h e c e n t r a l b u s i n e s s a r e a . E c o n o m i c i n c e n t i v e s s u c h a s l o w i n t e r e s t l o a n s , r e v o l v i n g f u n d s a n d t a x a b a t e m e n t p r o g r a m s a r e w i d e l y u s e d . M a n y s t a t e s h a v e a p p r o v e d c o m p r e h e n s i v e p r e s e r v a t i o n l a w s a f f e c t i n g l o c a l c o m m u n i t i e s . T h e c o n s t i t u t i o n a l i t y o f l o c a l h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n o r d i n a n c e s a n d d e s i g n r e v i e w b o a r d s h a v e b e e n u p h e l d b y t h e U . S . S u p r e m e C o u r t b y t h e P e n n C e n t r a l T r a n s p o r t a t i o n C o m p a n y v . N e w Y o r k C i t y c a s e , w h i c h w a s d e c i d e d i n 1 9 7 8 . T h e m o s t c o m m o n n e g a t i v e r e s p o n s e i n d i v i d u a l s h a v e t o t h e i d e a o f l o c a l d e s i g n r e v i e w i s t h a t i t i s i l l e g a l f o r a c i t y to t e l l a p e r s o n h o w to a l t e r a b u i l d i n g o t h e r t h a n to e n s u r e s a f e a n d h e a l t h y c o n d i t i o n s f o r p u b l i c p r o t e c t i o n . T h e S u p r e m e C o u r t o f t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s u p h e l d t h e c o n c e p t t h a t a c i t y c a n e n a c t l a n d u s e c o n t r o l s w h i c h p r e s e r v e t h e a e s t h e t i c f e a t u r e s o f a c i t y , i n c l u d i n g t h e a r e a s w h i c h h a v e s p e c i a l h i s t o r i c a l , a r c h a e o l o g i c a l a n d a r c h i t e c t u r a l s i g n i f i c a n c e . S u c h l a w s do n o t c o n s t i t u t e a " t a k i n g " o f p r o p e r t y b e c a u s e t h e y d o n o t c h a n g e , o r r e d u c e , t h e a b i l i t y o f a n o w n e r to u s e h i s o r h e r p r o p e r t y , a n d s u c h r e s t r i c t i o n s a r e c l o s e l y r e l a t e d to p r o m o t i n g t h e g e n e r a l w e l f a r e o f t h e c i t i z e n r y ( K i t c h e n 1 9 8 9 , 2 ) . " F e d e r a l t a x i n c e n t i v e s t o e n c o u r a g e h i s t o r i c r e h a b i h t a t i o n h a v e p r o v e n to b e o n e o f t h e m o s t s u c c e s s f u l u r b a n r e v i t a l i z a t i o n p r o g r a m s e v e r i m p l e m e n t e d " ( C h i t t e n d e n 1 9 8 7 , 1). T h e T a x R e f o r m A c t o f 1 9 8 6 m a d e c o m p r e h e n s i v e c h a n g e s t o t h e I n t e r n a l R e v e n u e C o d e e U m i n a t i n g o r r e d u c i n g t h e a b i l i t y o f r e a l e s t a t e d e v e l o p e r s a n d i n v e s t o r s to u s e d e d u c t i o n s a n d c r e d i t s t o s h e l t e r i n c o m e o t h e r t h a n t h a t d i r e c t l y r e l a t e d to r e a l e s t a t e i n v e s t m e n t . I n v e s t m e n t i n 1 9 8 7 w a s d o w n 3 5 p e r c e n t a n d o n e - h a l f o f t h a t o f 1 9 8 6 . M u c h o f t h i s l e g i s l a t i o n d o e s n o t i m p a c t d i r e c t l y o n t h e r e n o v a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e b e c a u s e , f o r t h e m o s t p a r t , t h e s e a c t i v i t i e s a r e e n g a g e d i n b y a l o c a l n o n - p r o f i t o r g a n i z a t i o n . H o w e v e r , i t d o e s a f f e c t t h e f a t e o f t h e m o v i e t h e a t r e i n g e n e r a l b e c a u s e a s p r i v a t e i n v e s t o r s f a l l a w a y f r o m h i s t o r i c r e h a b i h t a t i o n a n d r e n o v a t i o n p r o j e c t s , t h e l o c a l o r d i n a n c e s w i l l b e t h a t m u c h m o r e i m p o r t a n t . W h e n t h e A m e r i c a n p u b l i c d e m a n d s a n d g a i n s m o r e c o n t r o l o v e r l o c a l p l a n n i n g d e c i s i o n s a n d t h e f a t e o f h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s , t h e e n d a n g e r e d m o v i e t h e a t r e c a n n o t h e l p b u t p r o f i t . A m e r i c a n l e g i s l a t i o n p r o v i d e s f o r p u b l i c i n t e r e s t g r o u p s to r a i s e a v a r i e t y o f b a r r i e r s - i n c l u d i n g c l a s s a c t i o n s u i t s - a g a i n s t t h e d e m o h t i o n o f h i s t o r i c b u i l d i n g s . " T h e r e a r e t e n t o t w e n t y o c c a s i o n s i n t h e l e g a l p r o c e s s w h e r e g r o u p s c a n s e e k i n j u n c t i o n h a l t i n g d e m o h t i o n . . . . A m e r i c a n s b a s i c a l l y b e l i e v e i n h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n . . . " ( W o o d 1 9 8 5 , 2 9 ) . T h e h e r i t a g e s t r u c t u r e i s n o t o n l y c o n s i d e r e d to b e o f h i s t o r i c , e d u c a t i o n a l a n d e c o n o m i c v a l u e , b u t i n c r e a s i n g l y , c o n s e r v a t i o n i s t s a n d p r e s e r v a t i o n i s t s a r e j o i n i n g f o r c e s to p r o t e s t t h e g e n e r a l " t h r o w - a w a y " a t t i t u d e o f t h e p a s t . I t i s a g r e e d t h a t r e n o v a t i o n o f e x i s t i n g s t r u c t u r e s s a v e i m p o r t a n t n o n - r e n e w a b l e r e s o u r c e s t h a t w o u l d be e x p e n d e d i n t h e d e m o l i t i o n a n d r e b u i l d i n g p r o c e s s . T h e s o u r c e s o f f u n d i n g a v a i l a b l e to h i s t o r i c p r o j e c t s a r e : f e d e r a l m a t c h i n g g r a n t s f o r t h o s e b u i l d i n g s l i s t e d i n t h e N a t i o n a l R e g i s t e r o f H i s t o r i c P l a c e s ; N a t i o n a l E n d o w m e n t f o r t h e A r t s g r a n t s p r o g r a m f o r n o n - p r o f i t o r g a n i z a t i o n s to c o v e r r e s e a r c h a n d p l a n n i n g s a l a r i e s a n d f e e s ; S t a t e b o n d b i l l s , g e n e r a l a p p r o p r i a t i o n s , s p e c i a l a p p r o p r i a t i o n s a n d u n m a r k e d f u n d s ; C o u n t y a n d C i t y b o n d b i l l s , g e n e r a l a n d s p e c i a l a p p r o p r i a t i o n s a n d c o m m e r c i a l d e v e l o p m e n t b l o c k g r a n t s . O f m a j o r i m p o r t a n c e a r e t h e p r i v a t e d o n o r , l o c a l f o u n d a t i o n s a n d n a t i o n a l f o u n d a t i o n s , c o r p o r a t e d o n o r s a n d t h e g e n e r a l p u b l i c . I t a p p e a r s t h a t t h e A m e r i c a n c i t i z e n d o n a t e s m o r e f r e e l y t o c a u s e s a t t h e l o c a l l e v e l t h a n d o e s t h e C a n a d i a n . I t i s s u g g e s t e d t h a t t h i s a t t i t u d e s t e m s f r o m t h e A m e r i c a n s o c i o e c o n o m i c a n d p o U t i c a l p h i l o s o p h y a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e f r e e d o m t o a c c u m u l a t e w e a l t h a n d to d e t e r m i n e w h e r e a n d h o w t h a t m o n e y s h o u l d b e s p e n t . O f i m p o r t a n c e a l s o i s t h e d i f f e r e n c e i n t h e b a n k i n g s y s t e m b e t w e e n C a n a d a a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s . W i t h i n t h e d e c e n t r a l i z e d s t a t e b a n k i n g s y s t e m t h e r e a p p e a r s to b e a m o r e s y m p a t h e t i c a t t i t u d e t o w a r d l e n d i n g m o n e y f o r h e r i t a g e r e n o v a t i o n a t t h e l o c a l l e v e l . T h e r e e x i s t s t h e flexibility t o m a k e d e c i s i o n s b a s e d o n i n d i v i d u a l p r o j e c t s r a t h e r t h a n a n a d h e r e n c e to t h e r i g i d p o l i c i e s t h a t C a n a d i a n b a n k s a d o p t w i t h r e s p e c t t o c o l l a t e r a l q u a l i f i c a t i o n s . T h e r e a r e n u m e r o u s e x a m p l e s o f l o c a l b a n k s l e n d i n g m o n e y f o r t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s t h r o u g h o u t t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s ( M a r q u e e 1 9 8 3 ) . T h e i m p o r t a n t a s p e c t s o f A m e r i c a n h e r i t a g e p o l i c y i s t h a t t h e r e i s m o r e e m p h a s i s o n p r i v a t e i n i t i a t i v e a n d l o c a l e m p o w e r m e n t . 2 . 7 . 2 C a n a d i a n H e r i t a g e P o l i c y " C o m p a r i n g C a n a d i a n h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n t o t h a t o f t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d E u r o p e , t h e C h a i r m a n o f t h e B o a r d o f G o v e r n o r s o f H e r i t a g e C a n a d a r e c e n t l y s a i d , ' W e h a v e p o s s i b l y t h e w e a k e s t h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n i n t h e W e s t e r n w o r l d ' " ( W o o d 198-5, 2 2 ) . C a n a d i a n l e g i s l a t i o n i s s i m i l a r to t h a t o f t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s i n t h a t i t i s t h r e e t i e r e d - f e d e r a l , p r o v i n c i a l a n d l o c a l . C o n s t i t u t i o n a l a u t h o r i t y f o r t h e p r o t e c t i o n o f h e r i t a g e l a n d a n d b u i l d i n g s w i t h i n p r o v i n c i a l b o u n d a r i e s b e l o n g s , f o r t h e m o s t p a r t , t o t h e p r o v i n c e s . T h e m a i n f e d e r a l r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r h e r i t a g e s i t e s r e s t s w i t h t h e D e p a r t m e n t o f t h e E n v i r o n m e n t ( P a r k s C a n a d a ) , t h r o u g h t h e H i s t o r i c S i t e s a n d M o n u m e n t s A c t h o w e v e r i t d o e s n o t p r o t e c t b u i l d i n g s ( i n c l u d i n g f e d e r a l b u i l d i n g s ) a g a i n s t d e m o l i t i o n b e c a u s e o f p r o v i n c i a l j u r i s d i c t i o n . T h e f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t c a n p u r c h a s e p r o p e r t y a n d o w n s o v e r 1 0 0 s i t e s , t h e m a j o r i t y b e i n g m u s e u m s . T h e H i s t o r i c S i t e s a n d M o n u m e n t s B o a r d o f C a n a d a m a y r e c o m m e n d t h a t t h e M i n i s t e r i g n o r e a p a r t i c u l a r s t r u c t u r e , d e s i g n a t e t h e s t r u c t u r e a s a n a t i o n a l h i s t o r i c s i t e a n d e r e c t a p l a q u e , e n t e r i n t o a c o s t - s h a r i n g a g r e e m e n t , o r a c q u i r e t h e p r o p e r t y . T h e M i n i s t e r i s n o t b o u n d b y s u c h r e c o m m e n d a t i o n s . T h e r e i s h t t l e t h e f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t c a n do d i r e c t l y , to s a v e t h r e a t e n e d b u i l d i n g s , e x c e p t to b u y t h e m . T h e r e i s m u c h t h e f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t c o u l d d o , h o w e v e r , t h r o u g h t a x l e g i s l a t i o n , t o s a v e h i s t o r i c b u i l d i n g s . I f C a n a d i a n h e r i t a g e e x p e r t s c o u l d a c c o m p l i s h o n e t h i n g , i t w o u l d b e to a l t e r i n c o m e t a x l a w s . . . P r o p e r t y o w n e r s a r e a l l o w e d t o w r i t e off, a s a l o s s , t h e e n t i r e v a l u e o f a b u i l d i n g t h e y c h o o s e t o r a z e . . . . D e m o h s h e d b u i l d i n g s b e c o m e a t a x d e d u c t i o n w h i c h i s w h y w e find C a n a d a ' s d o w n t o w n s f u l l o f p a r k i n g l o t s . U n t i l t h i s p a r t i c u l a r p o l i c y i s r e v e r s e d , a l l t h e p r o v i n c i a l a n d m u n i c i p a l e f f o r t s t o w a r d h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n w i l l b e so m u c h t i n k e r i n g ( W o o d 1 9 8 5 , 2 9 ) . E l e v e n o f C a n a d a ' s t w e l v e p r o v i n c e s / t e r r i t o r i a l g o v e r n m e n t s a r e e m p o w e r e d t o p r o t e c t h e r i t a g e s i t e s f r o m d e m o l i t i o n a n d / o r u n s y m p a t h e t i c c o n s t r u c t i o n . T h e o n l y e x c e p t i o n i s O n t a r i o w h e r e t h e p r o v i n c e p r o t e c t s a r c h a e o l o g i c a l s i t e s ; o t h e r s i t e s c a n o n l y b e p r o t e c t e d b y m u n i c i p a h t i e s ( W a r d 1 9 8 6 ) . T h e P r o v i n c e o f Q u e b e c i s t h e m o s t p r o g r e s s i v e i n t h e a r e a o f h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n a n d t h r o u g h i t s C u l t u r a l P r o p e r t y A c t p r o t e c t s l a n d s u r r o u n d i n g a d e s i g n a t e d s i t e a s w e l l a s h i s t o r i c d i s t r i c t s . T h e P r o v i n c e o f Q u e b e c h a s 1 5 0 0 o f t h e 3 0 0 0 o f f i c i a l l y d e s i g n a t e d b u i l d i n g s i n C a n a d a ( W a r d 1 9 8 6 ) . B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , A l b e r t a a n d N e w B r u n s w i c k h a v e t h e p o w e r to d e s i g n a t e b u i l d i n g s f o r p r o t e c t i o n , h o w e v e r c o m p e n s a t i o n m u s t b e p a i d t o t h e o w n e r s o f s u c h p r o p e r t y i f i t c a n b e s h o w n t h a t t h e d e s i g n a t e d p r o p e r t y h a s l o s t v a l u e b e c a u s e o f t h e d e s i g n a t i o n . T h i s p r o o f o f " l o s s " h a s n o t b e e n a d e q u a t e l y t e s t e d i n t h e C o u r t s d u e to a l a c k o f p o h t i c a l w i l l o n t h e p a r t o f a l l l e v e l s o f g o v e r n m e n t . P r o v i n c i a l d e s i g n a t i o n p o l i c y i s o f l i t t l e p r a c t i c a l v a l u e w h e n t h e p o w e r t o d e s i g n a t e i s n o t u s e d b y t h e r e s p o n s i b l e M i n i s t r y . T h e r e i s a l s o a p r o b l e m w i t h b u i l d i n g s t h a t m a y n o t b e j u d g e d a s p a r t i c u l a r l y i m p o r t a n t w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e e v a l u a t i o n c r i t e r i a o f s i g n i f i c a n c e w i t h r e s p e c t to a r c h i t e c t u r e , e v e n t s , p e r s o n s o r s t r e e t s c a p e . T h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e w o u l d h a v e to b e d e e m e d o f i m p o r t a n c e t o t h e c i t i z e n s o f t h e P r o v i n c e t o b e c o n s i d e r e d f o r d e s i g n a t i o n . B e c a u s e o f t h e f e w e x i s t i n g t h e a t r e s i n B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , t h e O r p h e u m w a s r e c o g n i z e d f o r P r o v i n c i a l d e s i g n a t i o n , h o w e v e r , i t i s t h e o w n e r s h i p o f t h e t h e a t r e b y t h e C i t y t h a t p r o t e c t s t h e b u i l d i n g . M u n i c i p a l i t i e s m a y p r o t e c t h e r i t a g e t h r o u g h a v a r i e t y o f l e g a l m e a n s . B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , A l b e r t a , N e w B r u n s w i c k , O n t a r i o a n d Q u e b e c e m p o w e r m u n i c i p a l i t i e s t o p r o t e c t c u l t u r a l s i t e s to v a r y i n g d e g r e e s . M u c h o f t h i s " p r o t e c t i o n " h o w e v e r , g i v e s b r e a t h i n g s p a c e o n l y . T h e p r i v a t e p r o p e r t y o w n e r m u s t b e c o m p e n s a t e d f o r " l o s s " o r a n o u t r i g h t p u r c h a s e m u s t t a k e p l a c e . A n i n d i v i d u a l o w n e r s e l d o m a s k s t h a t h i s p a r t i c u l a r b u i l d i n g b e d e s i g n a t e d a s n o e c o n o m i c a d v a n t a g e i s p e r c e i v e d . I n m a n y c a s e s , t h e i d e n t i f i c a t i o n o f a p a r t i c u l a r b u i l d i n g o n a l i s t o f h e r i t a g e s i t e s s e l e c t e d b y a h e r i t a g e c o m m i t t e e m a y r e s u l t i n a n i m m e d i a t e a p p l i c a t i o n f o r d e m o U t i o n b y t h e o w n e r , f e a r i n g p o s s i b l e r e s t r i c t i o n s t o s a l e a n d r e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e s i t e . W i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r , " A d e s i g n a t i o n b y l a w , a d o p t e d i n 1 9 7 4 , s n a r e d j u s t 5 4 b u i l d i n g s b e f o r e f o u n d e r i n g o n t h e c o m p e n s a t i o n i s s u e ; i t h a s l a i n d o r m a n t s i n c e 1 9 7 7 a w a i t i n g t h e i n c e n t i v e s s c h e m e " ( W o o d 1 9 8 5 , 3 3 ) . T h e l a r g e s t n o n - g o v e r n m e n t a l o r g a n i z a t i o n c o n c e r n e d w i t h c u l t u r a l p r o p e r t y i s t h e H e r i t a g e C a n a d a F o u n d a t i o n i n c o r p o r a t e d i n 1 9 7 3 . I t h a s a financial b a s e o f a p p r o x i m a t e l y $ 1 8 . 1 8 m i l l i o n p r o v i d e d b y t h e F e d e r a l G o v e r n m e n t ( W a r d 1 9 8 6 , 1 7 ) . I t i s n o t a g r a n t i n g o r g a n i z a t i o n . I t i s i n v o l v e d i n five p r o g r a m a r e a s ; M a i n S t r e e t d e m o n s t r a t i o n p r o j e c t s ; e d u c a t i o n a n d t e c h n i c a l s e r v i c e s ; c o m m u n i c a t i o n a n d m e m b e r s h i p ; a n d p u b l i c , c o r p o r a t e a n d g o v e r n m e n t r e l a t i o n s ( W a r d 1 9 8 6 , 1 8 ) . " B e i n g i n d e p e n d e n t o f g o v e r n m e n t , i t c a n c r i t i c i z e g o v e r n m e n t p o h c i e s a n d h a s t h e m a n d a t e to e n c o u r a g e t h e p r e s e r v a t i o n o f t h e b u i l t e n v i r o n m e n t w i t h a B o a r d o f G o v e r n o r s a n s w e r a b l e t o t h e m e m b e r s h i p " ( W a r d 1 9 8 6 , 1 9 ) . T h e m a i n v e h i c l e o f c o m m e n t a n d i n f o r m a t i o n w a s t h e Canadian Heritage m a g a z i n e , p u b h c a t i o n o f w h i c h e n d e d i n t h e S p r i n g o f 1 9 9 0 d u e t o financial r e a s o n s . T h e m a g a z i n e p r e s e n t e d e x c e l l e n t c r i t i c a l e d i t o r i a l c o m m e n t a r i e s s u c h a s " W h y W e N e e d a N a t i o n a l H e r i t a g e R e v i e w , " b y J a c q u e s D a l i b a r d , t h e E x e c u t i v e D i r e c t o r ( D a l i b a r d 1 9 8 6 ) . W h a t h a s r e p l a c e d i t i s a n e w s l e t t e r Impact t h a t a p p e a r s t o f o c u s o n e x a m p l e s o f c u l t u r a l a c t i v i t i e s , e n v i r o n m e n t a l p r o j e c t s , c h a n g e s i n p r o v i n c i a l h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n a n d c o n f e r e n c e s . T h e e d i t o r i a l c o m m e n t s h a v e d i s a p p e a r e d a l o n g w i t h a n y " b i t e " t h e o r i g i n a l m a g a z i n e h a d . I t h a s b e e n s u g g e s t e d t h a t t h e " i d e a h s m " o f t h e 1 9 7 0 s t h a t p r o v i d e d a n i m p e t u s f o r h e r i t a g e a p p r e c i a t i o n a c r o s s C a n a d a h a s w a n e d . H e r i t a g e p r o j e c t s h a v e l o s t t h e i r f u n d i n g b a s e a n d m o s t h e r i t a g e c o m m i t t e e s a r e r e l u c t a n t to t a c k l e t h e r i c h a n d p o l i t i c a l l y p o w e r f u l p r o p e r t y o w n e r s w h o h a v e c l o u t t h r o u g h l o c a l b y - l a w s a n d c i v i c p o l i t i c a l c o n n e c t i o n s a n d w h e r e c o n s e r v a t i v e c o u r t s s u p p o r t t h e e n t r e n c h e d p o w e r s o f p r o p e r t y o v e r p u b l i c i n t e r e s t ( W o o d 1 9 8 5 ) . " M o s t C a n a d i a n g o v e r n m e n t s , d e s p i t e t h e i r p i o u s w o r d s , h a v e f a i l e d t o p r o v i d e h e r i t a g e o f f i c e r s , w i t h e i t h e r s t r o n g l e g i s l a t i o n o r a d e q u a t e f i n a n c i n g . . . " ( W o o d 1 9 8 6 , 2 4 ) . T h e W e s t e r n P r o v i n c e s o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a a n d A l b e r t a a p p e a r to b e p a r t i c u l a r l y i n s e n s i t i v e w i t h r e s p e c t to h e r i t a g e c o n c e r n s . " P e o p l e m o v e a l o t . . . h a v e l i t t l e s e n s e o f p l a c e , l e s s s e n s e o f t h e h i s t o r y t h e y d a i l y p a s s b y " ( W o o d 1 9 8 5 , 2 4 ) . W i n n i p e g a n d V i c t o r i a h a v e b e e n s i n g l e d o u t a s b e i n g e x c e p t i o n a l l y s u c c e s s f u l i n h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n . T h e P r o v i n c e o f M a n i t o b a i n t r o d u c e d l e g i s l a t i o n i n t h e S p r i n g o f 1 9 8 5 t o o f f e r t a x i n c e n t i v e s t o t h o s e w h o c h o o s e t o r e n o v a t e h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s ( W o o d 1 9 8 5 2 5 ) . I n m a n y c a s e s t h e m o s t p o w e r f u l t o o l a p r o g r e s s i v e a n d f a r - s i g h t e d c i t y a d m i n i s t r a t i o n c a n s h a p e f o r h e r i t a g e c o n s e r v a t i o n i s t h e l o c a l l a n d u s e b y - l a w . B y i d e n t i f y i n g t h e d i s t r i c t s o r b u i l d i n g s t h a t a r e m o s t i m p o r t a n t t o t h e c o m m u n i t y , t h e b u l k a n d h e i g h t o f b u i l d i n g s a l l o w e d t o b e b u i l t o n t h a t p r o p e r t y c a n b e l i m i t e d . I n C a l g a r y s u n l i g h t r e q u i r e m e n t s o n S t e p h e n A v e n u e M a l l s e v e r e l y l i m i t t h e h e i g h t a n d b u l k o f b u i l d i n g s t h a t c o u l d b e p l a n n e d f o r s i t e s t h a t n o w a r e o c c u p i e d b y o l d S a n d s t o n e b u i l d i n g s w h i c h t h e c i t y w i s h e s t o p r e s e r v e . A n o t h e r i n t e r e s t i n g t a c t i c w h i c h w o r k s , w h e r e o t h e r s f a i l , i s t h e " b l o c k - b u s t i n g " a p p r o a c h . V a r i o u s i n t e r e s t e d g r o u p s , a l o n g w i t h t h e P r o v i n c e a n d t h e C i t y , m a n a g e d t o p u r c h a s e a n d d e s i g n a t e j u s t e n o u g h o f t h e o l d " S a n d s t o n e s " a l o n g e a c h s i d e o f S t e p h e n A v e n u e M a l l t o b l o c k t h e p o s s i b i l i t i e s o f a n y m a j o r l a r g e r e d e v e l o p m e n t s c h e m e . I n t h e c a s e o f t h e l a s t h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e , t h e P a l a c e , s i t u a t e d a l s o o n S t e p h e n A v e n u e M a l l , t h e C i t y o f C a l g a r y o w n s t h e l o t d i r e c t l y b e h i n d t h e t h e a t r e a n d w i t h o u t t h i s p i e c e o f p r o p e r t y , a l a r g e r e d e v e l o p m e n t s c h e m e w o u l d n o t b e v i a b l e . I n t h i s m a n n e r a c i t y m a y a r r a n g e to h o l d s o m e p o w e r a n d c o n t r o l o v e r t h e m a r k e t - d r i v e n s y s t e m o f r e a l e s t a t e d e v e l o p m e n t w h e n i t c o n f l i c t s w i t h t h e p r o t e c t i o n o f l o n g t e r m c u l t u r a l r e s o u r c e s . I n m a n y c a s e s , t h e o w n e r s o f t h e p r o p e r t i e s i n q u e s t i o n a r e n o t l o c a l r e s i d e n t s a n d a r e u n i n t e r e s t e d i n t h e h i s t o r y o r t h e u n i q u e n e s s o f a p a r t i c u l a r u r b a n c u l t u r e . G u e r r i l l a w a r f a r e a p p e a r s t o b e t h e o n l y a l t e r n a t i v e f o r a c o m m u n i t y u n d e r s i e g e . 2 . 7 . 3 T h e V o l u n t e e r a n d t h e T h e a t r e R e s t o r a t i o n P r o j e c t T h e P r o c e s s B e f o r e o n e a t t e m p t s to b e a c a t a l y s t f o r g r a s s - r o o t s a c t i o n , o n e n e e d s t o c o n s i d e r t w o t h i n g s v e r y o b j e c t i v e l y - d o e s a n y o n e e l s e r e a l l y g i v e a d a m n , a n d i f s o , h o w w i l l t h i s e m o t i o n be a c t u a l i z e d ? H i s t o r i c a l l y , t h e m a j o r i t y o f v o l u n t e e r w o r k h a s b e e n t h e j u r i s d i c t i o n o f w o m e n o f t h e c o m m u n i t y w h o w e r e n o t r e q u i r e d t o w o r k f o r a h v i n g . T h e y w e r e u s u a l l y m a r r i e d to m e n o f p o s i t i o n a n d c i r c u m s t a n c e w h o w e r e i n f l u e n c e d b y t h e i r w i v e s to v i e w m a n y o f t h e c u l t u r a l a n d a e s t h e t i c c o n c e r n s o f t h e c o m m u n i t y w i t h s y m p a t h y . U n f o r t u n a t e l y , t h e r e a r e f e w e r w o m e n i n t h i s p o s i t i o n t o d a y b e c a u s e o f t h e i r m o v e m e n t i n t o t h e w o r k f o r c e . T h e r e f o r e , t i m e i s a l l o c a t e d t o o n l y t h e v e r y p r e s s i n g o f i s s u e s w i t h i n t h e c o m m u n i t i e s i n w h i c h t h e y r e s i d e . H i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s m a y n o t b e v i e w e d a s a h i g h - p r i o r i t y i t e m . C a n a d i a n c o m m u n i t y a c t i v i s t s , i n t e r e s t e d i n t h e s a v i n g a n d r e u s e o f o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e s , m a y be e x t r e m e l y f r u s t r a t e d w h e n t h e y b e c o m e a w a r e o f s u c c e s s f u l A m e r i c a n p r o j e c t s . I f a t t e m p t s a r e m a d e to r e c r e a t e t h e s c e n a r i o s a c c o r d i n g to t h e h t e r a t u r e t h a t i s a v a i l a b l e o n t h e s u b j e c t , m o s t o f w h i c h i s b a s e d o n t h e A m e r i c a n e x p e r i e n c e , f a i l u r e m a y e n s u e . T h e a n a l y s i s o f t h e t h r e e c a s e s t u d i e s w i l l e n a b l e t h e c o m m u n i t y a c t i v i s t to b e t t e r a n s w e r t h e s e q u e s t i o n s . W i t h r e s p e c t to v o l u n t e e r i n g , b e t w e e n 1 9 8 5 a n d 1 9 8 7 , " A b o u t 4 8 p e r c e n t o f t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s p o p u l a t i o n s v o l u n t e e r e d s o m e p a r t o f t h e i r t i m e to g i f t - s u p p o r t e d o r g a n i z a t i o n s . . . . U . S . g o v e r n m e n t s n o w p r o v i d e m o r e f u l l y f o r m a n y a c t i v i t i e s , i n c l u d i n g t h e a r t s , o n c e a l m o s t t o t a l l y d e p e n d e n t o n p r i v a t e s u p p o r t . C a n a d i a n c o m m u n i t y a c t i v i s t s a r e a t a d i s a d v a n t a g e b e c a u s e o f t h e d i f f e r e n c e s i n C a n a d i a n a t t i t u d e s t o w a r d p e r s o n a l g i v i n g o f m o n e y a n d t i m e . T h e r e a r e a l s o i m p o r t a n t d i f f e r e n c e s t o b e a w a r e o f w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e v o l u n t a r y a c t i v i t y t h a t i s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e s a n d t h e v o l u n t e e r w o r k t h a t w e m a y u n d e r s t a n d i n o t h e r c a p a c i t i e s . T h e v o l u n t e e r w h o c o m e s f o r w a r d to w o r k t o s a v e a h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e u n d e r s i e g e i s d i f f e r e n t f r o m m o s t o t h e r g r o u p s o f v o l u n t e e r s a n d t h i s m u s t b e r e c o g n i z e d a n d a p p r e c i a t e d ( K n o k e 1 9 8 1 ) . T h e v o l u n t e e r t h a t d e d i c a t e s t i m e , e f f o r t , a n d m o n e y t o t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f a n o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e h a s n o o t h e r a g e n d a b u t t h a t o f t h e s a v i n g o f a n o l d b u i l d i n g t h a t h e o r s h e m a y v a l u e f o r a m y r i a d o f r e a s o n s . T h e s e v o l u n t e e r s a r e n o t i n t e r e s t e d i n s e l f - e m u l a t i o n o r p r i v a t e g a i n . T h e y a r e n o t e n c u m b e r e d b y t h e " w e i g h t " o f a n o r g a n i z a t i o n . T h e y do n o t s e t o u t t o c h a n g e t h e p o l i t i c s , v a l u e s , e c o n o m i c w e l l - b e i n g , o r m o r a l s o f a c o m m u n i t y a s d o m a n y o t h e r v o l u n t e e r a s s o c i a t i o n s . T h e y j u s t w a n t to s e e t h a t t h e p r o j e c t s u c c e e d s a n d t h a t a n o t h e r h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e i s s a v e d f r o m d e m o l i t i o n o r a c o m m e r c i a l r e u s e t h a t d o e s n o t h i n g t o r e p l a c e t h e t h e a t r e s o r i g i n a l f u n c t i o n - p r o v i d i n g a c u l t u r a l c o n t r i b u t i o n o f t h e c o m m u n i t y . W h i l e i t i s a r g u e d t h a t a w e l l - o r g a n i z e d h e r i t a g e a s s o c i a t i o n i s a n i m p o r t a n t f a c t o r i n t h e p r e s e r v a t i o n o f h i s t o r i c r e s o u r c e s s u c h a s m o v i e t h e a t r e s , t h i s a s s o c i a t i o n m a y n o t b e a n a s s e t i n t h a t t h e a s s o c i a t i o n m a y b e too o r g a n i z e d , h a v e i t s o w n a g e n d a , b e j e a l o u s o f i t s " t e r r i t o r y " a n d n o t b e w i l l i n g t o a c c e p t t h e i n p u t f r o m i n d i v i d u a l s f r o m o u t s i d e w h o c o m e f o r t h w i t h t h e i r o w n p a r t i c u l a r p r o j e c t s - s u c h a s a n o l d t h e a t r e . T h e e s t a b l i s h e d h e r i t a g e o r g a n i z a t i o n m a y n o t h a v e a b r o a d b a s i s o f s u p p o r t f r o m t h e c o m m u n i t y a t l a r g e d u e to a m e m b e r s h i p t h a t d o e s n o t i n c l u d e m e m b e r s f r o m a l l e t h n i c i n t e r e s t g r o u p s . T h i s e s t a b h s h e d o r g a n i z a t i o n m a y h a v e b e e n c o o p t e d b y p o l i t i c a l i n t e r e s t g r o u p s o r l o b b y i s t s w h o a l s o h a v e p r i v a t e a g e n d a s . M a n y s u c c e s s f u l c o m m u n i t y a c t i v i s t s b e h e v e t h a t to g e t t h e m a x i m u m e f f o r t r e q u i r e d , t h e l e a s t o r g a n i z a t i o n t h a t e x i s t s , t h e b e t t e r . F l e x i b i l i t y , u n f e t t e r e d b y o r g a n i z a t i o n a l l i n e s o f c o m m a n d a n d a " p e c k i n g - o r d e r , " w i l l b e m u c h m o r e e f f e c t i v e . T h e p r o c e s s t h a t s u r r o u n d s t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s m o r e o f t e n r e s e m b l e s a g u e r r i l l a o p e r a t i o n . T h e C a n a d i a n v o l u n t e e r m a y l a c k m a n y o f t h e b a s i c p h i l o s o p h i c a l s t r e n g t h s t h a t t h e A m e r i c a n v o l u n t e e r h a s i n t h a t h e b a s i c a l l y b e l i e v e s t h a t h e h a s l e s s p o w e r w i t h r e s p e c t to g o v e r n m e n t d e c i s i o n m a k i n g t h a n h i s A m e r i c a n c o u n t e r p a r t . P u b l i c o p i n i o n p o l l s t a k e n i n t h e 1 9 6 0 s a n d 1 9 7 0 s s h o w t h a t C a n a d i a n s h a v e l e s s i n v o l v e m e n t i n p o h t i c s t h a n A m e r i c a n s , h o w e v e r t h e y do d i s p l a y g r e a t e r t r u s t i n g o v e r n m e n t d e c i s i o n m a k i n g ( M e r c e r 1 9 8 6 ) . T h e C a n a d i a n p u b l i c h a s a " d e f e r e n t i a l " c h a r a c t e r w h e n i t c o m e s t o p o l i t i c s . T h i s s t a n d s i n m a r k e d c o n t r a s t t o t h e A m e r i c a n a t t i t u d e w h i c h p l a c e s g r e a t s t r e s s o n i n d i v i d u a l i s m a n d r e s i s t s g o v e r n m e n t i n t e r v e n t i o n . I t i s n o t d i f f i c u l t t o u n d e r s t a n d t h e t i m i d i t y o f t h e C a n a d i a n v o l u n t e e r o n o n e h a n d , a n d t h e a t t i t u d e o f t h e g e n e r a l p u b l i c w h e n a p p r o a c h e d f o r p r i v a t e c o n t r i b u t i o n s - l e t t h e g o v e r n m e n t do i t ! B o t h C a n a d a a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s s u f f e r t o d a y f r o m a l o s s o f v o l u n t e e r s . V o l u n t e e r s a n d t h e i r a c t i v i t i e s h a v e c h a n g e d o v e r t h e l a s t s e v e r a l d e c a d e s . A s i n c r e a s i n g n u m b e r s o f w o m e n , t r a d i t i o n a l l y t h e m a i n s t a y o f v o l u n t e e r p r o j e c t s , b e g a n t o e n t e r t h e w o r k f o r c e i n t h e e a r l y 1 9 7 0 s , t h e p o o l o f v o l u n t e e r s a v a i l a b l e d u r i n g t h e r e g u l a r w o r k w e e k s h r a n k . . . . O r g a n i z a t i o n s s u c h a s t h e L e a g u e o f W o m e n V o t e r s a n d t h e J u n i o r L e a g u e , . . . h a v e r e l i e d h e a v i l y u p o n t h e i n t e r e s t o f a s o l i d c o r p s o f f e m i n i n e v o l u n t e e r s . . . ( W a s h i n g t o n 1 9 8 5 ) . C a r e s h o u l d be t a k e n t h a t t h e o r i g i n a t i n g c o m m i t t e e n o t b e " t o o e s o t e r i c o r s e l f - s e r v i n g " a s s u p p o r t i s r e q u i r e d f r o m a l l s e c t o r s o f t h e c o m m u n i t y . T h i s i s e s p e c i a l l y i m p o r t a n t w h e n v a r i o u s e t h n i c g r o u p s a r e c o n c e r n e d . M o s t h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d s o m e i n C a n a d a h a d a c o l o u r p o l i c y . B l a c k s a n d O r i e n t a l s w e r e d e s i g n a t e d t o p a r t i c u l a r s e c t i o n s o f t h e t h e a t r e s a n d t h e s e f a c t s a r e n o t f o r g o t t e n w i t h i n t h e s e c o m m u n i t i e s . T h e r e f o r e , a c a r e f u l l y d e s i g n e d f u n d - r a i s i n g c o m m i t t e e a n d p r o g r a m m e m u s t b e p l a n n e d i n o r d e r t o s y s t e m a t i c a l l y c o n s i d e r a l l a s p e c t s o f c o m m u n i t y d e m o g r a p h i c s w i t h r e s p e c t t o d o n a t i o n s a n d f u n d - r a i s i n g a c t i v i t i e s . T h e o r g a n i z a t i o n o f t h e f u n d - r a i s i n g e f f o r t i s c r u c i a l . A p r o f e s s i o n a l f u n d - r a i s e r w i t h e x p e r i e n c e i n t h e p e r f o r m i n g a r t s s h o u l d b e h i r e d a n d t h i s p e r s o n m u s t h a v e s i g n i f i c a n t p o w e r a n d a b i U t y t o m a k e d e c i s i o n s . E x e c u t i v e - d i r e c t o r i s t h e s u g g e s t e d d e s i g n a t i o n f o r t h i s i n d i v i d u a l . F u n d r a i s i n g a c t i v i t i e s h a v e r e l a t e d c o s t s a n d t h e s e m u s t b e b u d g e t e d f o r . A p r o f e s s i o n a l t h e a t r e m a n a g e r m u s t b e e m p l o y e d a t l e a s t a y e a r b e f o r e t h e t h e a t r e o p e n s i n o r d e r to p r o g r a m m e t h e first y e a r o f p r o d u c t i o n s , c r e a t e p u b l i c a w a r e n e s s a n d e x c i t e m e n t {Marquee, 1 9 8 3 ) . N e t w o r k i n g - C i v i c A c t i o n i n t h e 1 9 9 0 s T h e l a t e s t a p p r o a c h t o g r a s s - r o o t s a c t i v i s m i s t h e e s t a b h s h m e n t o f c i t i z e n n e t w o r k s t h a t a r e c o n s i d e r e d t o b e t h e m o s t e f f e c t i v e m o d e r n o r g a n i z a t i o n d i r e c t e d t o w a r d c h a n g e . N e t w o r k s a r e p e r f e c t i n t h a t t h e y h a v e t h e a d v a n t a g e o f b e i n g v e r y p o w e r f u l f o r c e s d u e to h a v i n g i n t e r c h a n g e a b l e a n o n y m o u s l e a d e r s t h a t c a n n o t b e c o o p t e d , a n d b e c a u s e t h e y a r e a n i m p o s s i b l e t a r g e t to a t t a c k . T h e p h o n e , t h e h o m e c o m p u t e r a n d t h e " f a x " m a c h i n e c o n n e c t s t h e i n d i v i d u a l s o f t h e n e t w o r k . B y r o n K e n n a r d , i n Nothing Can Be Done, Everything is Possible, a n a d v o c a t e o f n e t w o r k i n g , r e l a t e s t h e f o l l o w i n g w i t h r e s p e c t to h i s f a v o r i t e n e t w o r k e r . I f i n d h i s t o r y f u l l o f m a r v e l o u s n e t w o r k e r s . M y f a v o r i t e i s T a l l e y r a n d , t h e a r i s t o c r a t i c F r e n c h s t a t e s m a n a n d d i p l o m a t , w h o s e c o n s e r v a t i v e v i s i o n o f p e a c e a n d s t a b i h t y i n E u r o p e l e d h i m t o s e r v e a n d t h e n t o u n d e r m i n e h a l f a d o z e n r e g i m e s . . . . I t so h a p p e n e d t h a t m o s t o f T a l l e y r a n d ' s c o l l a b o r a t o r s w e r e b r i l l i a n t , h i g h - b o r n w o m e n o f t h e s h r e w d w i t t y t y p e t h a t d o m i n a t e d m u c h o f F r e n c h h i s t o r y a n d c u l t u r e . W h e n e v e r h e w a s b r e w i n g a c o u p d ' e t a t , t h e a u t h o r i t i e s a l w a y s s e t s p i e s i n h i s h o u s e h o l d t o s e e i f t h e y c o u l d c a t c h h i m i n t h e a c t a n d p r o v e h i s t r e a s o n . B u t t h e s p i e s a l w a y s r e p o r t e d b a c k t o t h e i r m a s t e r s t h a t T a l l e y r a n d c o u l d n ' t b e u p t o a n y m i s c h i e f f o r a l l h e d i d w a s p l a y c a r d s w i t h t h e l a d i e s ! The Product Marquee: The Journal of the Theatre Historic Society, p u b l i s h e d a " T h e a t e r P r e s e r v a t i o n I s s u e " w h i c h p r o v i d e s e x t e n s i v e a n d i n v a l u a b l e a d v i c e t o c i v i c a c t i o n g r o u p s ( M a r q u e e 1 9 8 3 ) . V a r i o u s a r t i c l e s p o i n t o u t t h a t t h e t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s i s r i f e w i t h p r o b l e m s e s p e c i a l l y i n t h e a r e a o f f u n d r a i s i n g . I t i s s t r e s s e d t h a t e x p e r t a d v i c e m u s t b e t a p p e d i m m e d i a t e l y a n d e x p e r i e n c e d p e r s o n n e l i n t h e a r e a o f a p p h c a t i o n c o m p l e t i o n i s n e c e s s a r y i n o r d e r to a p p l y f o r n o n - p r o f i t , t a x - f r e e s t a t u s f o r t h e c o r p o r a t i o n t h a t w i l l e n g a g e i n f u n d - r a i s i n g a n d e v e n t u a l l y m a n a g e t h e t h e a t r e . T h e s e l e c t i o n o f a n a r c h i t e c t w i t h e x p e r i e n c e i n t h e d e s i g n a n d r e s t o r a t i o n o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s i s s t r a t e g i c . T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a w a s e s p e c i a l l y f o r t u n a t e i n t h a t t h e y w e r e a b l e t o o b t a i n t h e a r c h i t e c t , R i c h a r d M c C a n n , a n a p p r e n t i c e to t h e o r i g i n a l a r c h i t e c t P r i t e c a , a l s o w o r k e d o n t h e r e h a b i l i t a t i o n o f S e a t t l e ' s F i f t h A v e n u e T h e a t r e . I t i s c r u c i a l t h a t t h e a r c h i t e c t h a v e s y m p a t h y f o r t h e o r i g i n a l d e s i g n a n d t h e a b i l i t y t o s u c c e s s f u l l y a d a p t t h e b u i l d i n g to f a c i l i t a t e m o d e r n a r t i s t i c d e m a n d s w h i l e a d h e r i n g to t h e m y r i a d o f b u i l d i n g c o d e s p e c i f i c a t i o n s t h a t m u s t b e a d d r e s s e d - a n d w o r k w i t h i n a l i m i t e d b u d g e t . D r a w i n g b y D . F r a d o n ; © 1966 T h e N e w Y o r k e r M a g a z i n e , Inc. D r a w i n g b y D r a p e r H i l l ; P r e s e r v a t i o n N e w s , J a n u a r y 1974 C H A P T E R 1 1 1 : C A S E S T U D I E S 3.1 CASE STUDY: THE PANTAGES THEATER, TACOMA, WASHINGTON T h e r e a s o n s f o r c h o o s i n g t h e T a c o m a h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e n o v a t i o n a n d r e u s e c a s e s t u d i e s a r e t h e f o l l o w i n g : . G e o g r a p h i c , s o c i o e c o n o m i c a n d h i s t o r i c l i n k s e x i s t b e t w e e n T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n a n d V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . . D i f f e r e n c e s i n p o l i t i c a l e n v i r o n m e n t a n d p o l i t i c a l p h i l o s o p h y - a d i f f e r e n t c o u n t r y p r o v i d e s o p p o r t u n i t i e s f o r c o m p a r i s o n s a n d c o n t r a s t s . . O p p o r t u n i t y to c o m p a r e t w o p r o j e c t s i n t h e s a m e c i t y , o v e r t i m e - s p a n o f t e n y e a r s . . C a s e s t u d y t h e a t r e s u s e d a s a n c h o r s f o r a n a r e a r e j u v e n a t i o n p r o j e c t p r o v i d e e x a m p l e s f o r o t h e r c i t i e s t o f o l l o w , i e . V a n c o u v e r a n d t h e G r a n v i l l e M a l l . 3 . 1 . 1 T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n T h r e e h u n d r e d y e a r s a f t e r E u r o p e a n s d i s c o v e r e d A m e r i c a , w h i t e m e n r e a c h e d t h e S e a t t l e - T a c o m a a r e a . G e o r g e V a n c o u v e r a r r i v e d i n M a y o f 1 7 9 2 a b o a r d t h e s h i p D i s c o v e r y . T h e T a c o m a a r e a h a s fine h a r b o u r s , g r e a t f o r e s t s , fish a n d w i l d l i f e , m i n e r a l r e s o u r c e s a n d a t e m p e r a t e c l i m a t e . F o r t u n a t e l y f o r t h e T a c o m a a r e a , m a n y b u s i n e s s m e n r e c o g n i z e d t h e o p p o r t u n i t i e s p r e s e n t e d b y t h e l o c a t i o n . T h e r e w a s a g r e a t b o o m i n p o p u l a t i o n i n 1 8 9 0 w h e n W a s h i n g t o n a c h i e v e d s t a t e h o o d ; t h e n e w e a s t - w e s t r a i l l i n k to P u g e t S o u n d i n c r e a s e d t h e p o p u l a t i o n i n t h e a r e a f r o m 1 , 0 9 8 i n 1 8 8 0 to 3 6 , 0 0 0 i n 1 8 9 0 . C o n s i d e r i n g t h e r e l a t i v e i s o l a t i o n o f t h e a r e a t h e r e w e r e m a n y l a r g e c o m p a n i e s o f n a t i o n a l s i g n i f i c a n c e f o u n d e d : T h e P u g e t S o u n d N a t i o n a l B a n k i n 1 8 9 0 ; M a r c u s N a l l e y s t a r t e d N a l l e y ' s F i n e F o o d s a n d t h e S a r a t o g a P o t a t o C h i p i n 1 9 1 8 ; B r o w n a n d H a l e y C h o c o l a t e s , o n e o f t h e o l d e s t a n d l a r g e s t i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s , i n 1 9 1 4 ; t h e N o r t h S t a r G l o v e C o m p a n y , f o r e m o s t i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s f o r w o r k g l o v e s , i n 1 9 1 0 ; S t a n d a r d P a p e r C o m p a n y i n 1 9 0 9 ; R o m a n M e a l B r e a d C o m p a n y i n 1 9 2 7 ; a n d t h e W e y e r h a e u s e r T i m b e r C o m p a n y e s t a b l i s h e d i n 1 9 0 0 . W e y e r h a e u s e r p u r c h a s e d 9 0 0 , 0 0 0 a c r e s f r o m t h e N o r t h e r n P a c i f i c R a i l r o a d . T h e W e y e r h a e u s e r C o m p a n y i s b e U e v e d to b e t h e l a r g e s t l a n d o w n e r i n t h e w o r l d a n d i s t h e l a r g e s t e m p l o y e r i n t h e T a c o m a a r e a t o d a y ( M o r g a n 1 9 8 4 , 14.5). T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a h a d a f a i r l y s m a l l p o p u l a t i o n o f a r o u n d 4 0 0 , 0 0 0 i n 1 9 8 3 w h e n t h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t w a s c o m p l e t e d h o w e v e r i t h a d p o l i t i c a l a n d f i n a n c i a l s t r e n g t h s t h a t s t e m f r o m a d i v e r s e e c o n o m i c b a s e . T h i s i n f o r m a t i o n i s s i g n i f i c a n t w h e n o n e c o n s i d e r s t h e s u c c e s s o f t h e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s i n T a c o m a . T o d a y t h e C i t y o f T a c o m a h a s a p o p u l a t i o n o f 5 8 6 , 0 0 0 ( 1 9 9 0 ) a n d s u f f e r s t h e f a t e o f m a n y N o r t h A m e r i c a n c i t i e s w i t h r e s p e c t t o u r b a n d e v e l o p m e n t a n d c h a n g e . I t h a s b e c o m e a b e d r o o m c o m m u n i t y f o r S e a t t l e a s i n d u s t r y a n d b u s i n e s s e s h a v e m o v e d o u t s i d e o f t h e c i t y . T h e r e t a i l b a s e h a s a l s o m o v e d f r o m t h e i n n e r c i t y to t h e m a j o r s h o p p i n g c e n t r e s to b e i n c l o s e r p r o x i m i t y t o t h e s p r a w l i n g s u b u r b a n d e v e l o p m e n t s t h a t a r e t y p i c a l o f t h e a r e a . T h e i n n e r c i t y m o v i e p a l a c e s w e r e d e m o l i s h e d o r , i n a s t r u g g l e to s u r v i v e e c o n o m i c a l l y , w e r e r e d u c e d to s e c o n d a n d t h i r d r u n h o u s e s . M a n y d o w n t o w n t h e a t r e s - t h e O a k , t h e M e l b o u r n e , t h e T a c o m a , t h e H i p p o d r o m e - h a v e a l l b e e n d e m o h s h e d . 3 . 1 . 2 T h e H i s t o r y o f T h e a t r e i n T a c o m a . T a c o m a ' s f i r s t t h e a t r e o p e n e d i n J a n u a r y o f 1 8 9 0 ; t h e f i r s t m o v i e p a l a c e w a s b u i l t i n 1 9 2 5 b u t w a s d e s t r o y e d b y f i r e i n 1 9 6 3 . I n 1 9 1 8 T a c o m a b o a s t e d f i v e l e g i t i m a t e t h e a t r e s a n d s e v e n film h o u s e s . A l e x a n d e r P a n t a g e s o p e n e d t h e first P a n t a g e s T h e a t e r i n S e a t t l e i n 1 9 1 5 , a r e n o v a t e d c h u r c h p u r c h a s e d b y P a n t a g e s f o r $ 3 2 0 , 0 0 0 ( R o c h e s t e r 1 9 8 4 ) . T h e T a c o m a P a n t a g e s o p e n e d o n t h e n i g h t o f J a n u a r y 7, 1 9 1 8 a n d w a s t h e 5 0 t h m e m b e r o f A l e x a n d e r P a n t a g e s ' v a u d e v i l l e t h e a t r e s . O f t h e s e h e o w n e d 2 2 a n d l e a s e d 2 8 - t h e T a c o m a P a n t a g e s w a s o n e o f t h e l a t t e r . W i l U a m J o n e s , a l o c a l e n t r e p r e n e u r b u i l t t h e o f f i c e b u i l d i n g - t h e a t r e a t 9 0 1 - 0 9 B r o a d w a y f o r $ 4 0 0 , 0 0 0 . T h e b u i l d i n g w a s d e s i g n e d b y B . M a r c u s P r i t e c a , t h e P a n t a g e s ' C o m p a n y a r c h i t e c t . C o n s t r u c t i o n o n t h e b u i l d i n g s t a r t e d i n 1 9 1 6 a n d u p o n c o m p l e t i o n i n 1 9 1 8 , t h e J o n e s B u i l d i n g c o n t a i n e d 1 1 s t o r e s , 5 0 m o d e r n o f f i c e s a n d t h e 1 2 9 3 - s e a t P a n t a g e s v a u d e v i l l e t h e a t r e . T h e J o n e s B u i l d i n g w a s c o n s t r u c t e d o f r e i n f o r c e d c o n c r e t e w i t h a s t e e l f r a m e , finished i n g l a z e d t e r r a c o t t a i n a S e c o n d R e n a i s s a n c e R e v i v a l s t y l e o n t h e N i n t h a n d B r o a d w a y t h e a t r e f a c a d e a n d a y e l l o w b u f f b r i c k C o m m e r c i a l s t y l e o n t h e J o n e s B u i l d i n g f a c a d e . T h e t h e a t r e d e s i g n w a s i n s p i r e d b y t h e P e t i t T r i a n o n , t h e s m a l l o p e r a h o u s e a t t h e P a l a c e o f V e r s a i l l e s - w i t h a d d i t i o n a l G r e c o - R o m a n d e t a i l s r e q u e s t e d b y A l e x a n d e r P a n t a g e s i n r e c o g n i t i o n o f h i s G r e e k h e r i t a g e {Tacoma News Tribune, F e b 1 0 , 1 9 8 3 ) . A f t e r t h e g a l a o p e n i n g T h e P a n t a g e s f e a t u r e d v a u d e v i l l e a c t s f o r e i g h t y e a r s b e f o r e b e i n g c o n v e r t e d i n t o a m o v i e t h e a t r e . T h e T a c o m a P a n t a g e s h a d financial p r o b l e m s f r o m t h e o u t s e t a n d a s e r i e s o f o w n e r s m a d e t h e i r i n d i v i d u a l s m a r k s o n t h e t h e a t r e . M a n y h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s h a v e a h i s t o r y o f e c o n o m i c p r o b l e m s s i m i l a r to t h a t e x p e r i e n c e d b y t h e P a n t a g e s d u e t o t h e " b o o m - t i m e s " o f t h e 1 9 1 0 s a n d 1 9 2 0 s a n d t h e " b u s t " o f t h e 1 9 3 0 s . A l l t h e m o s t p r e s t i g i o u s e n t e r t a i n e r s v i s i t e d T a c o m a o n t h e i r w a y n o r t h t o S e a t t l e a n d V a n c o u v e r . T a c o m a w a s i n v o l v e d i n m o v i e p r o d u c t i o n i n 1 9 2 5 w h e n H . C . W e a v e r , a H o l l y w o o d p r o d u c e r a n d s e v e r a l w e a l t h y T a c o m a n s b u i l t a l a r g e b a r n o n T i t l o w b e a c h a n d s h o t t h e i r f i r s t f i l m ' " H e a r t s a n d F i s t s ' - a t a l e o f t a l l t r e e s a n d b i g m e n " ( M o r g a n 1 9 8 4 , 1 1 7 ) . U n f o r t u n a t e l y , t h e s t u d i o w e n t b r o k e i n t h e c r a s h o f 1 9 2 9 . P a n t a g e s s u f f e r e d f i n a n c i a l a n d p e r s o n a l d i s a s t e r s d u r i n g 1 9 2 8 a n d 1 9 2 9 . H e w a s c h a r g e d w i t h a s e x u a l a s s a u l t o n a m i n o r - a f e m a l e a u d i t i o n i n g f o r w o r k - a n d t h e f o r t h c o m i n g s c a n d a l a n d f i n a n c i a l s e t b a c k s r e s u l t e d n o t o n l y i n v a r i o u s t h e a t r e s b e i n g s o l d , b u t h i s n a m e w a s s t r i p p e d f r o m a l l t h e a t r e s i n o r d e r to m o l l i f y t h e p u b l i c . T h e R K O C o m p a n y l e a s e d t h e T a c o m a P a n t a g e s f r o m 1 9 2 9 to 1 9 3 1 a n d r e n a m e d i t t h e R K O T h e a t e r . V a u d e v i l l e w a s d y i n g a n d w i t h i t t h e R K O V a u d e v i l l e c i r c u i t . A s h o w m a n , J e n s e n v o n H e r b e r g , p i c k e d u p t h e l e a s e a n d r e n a m e d t h e t h e a t r e , t h e R o x y . H e d i d n o t f a r e a n y b e t t e r a t k e e p i n g t h e t h e a t r e v i a b l e . T h e t h e a t r e w a s l e a s e d to W i l l J . C o n n o r i n 1 9 3 5 a n d i t m a n a g e d to f l o u r i s h t h r o u g h t h e 1 9 4 0 s a n d 1 9 5 0 s d u e to C o n n o r ' s c a r e a n d a t t e n t i o n to d e t a i l . C o n n o r p u r c h a s e d t h e b u i l d i n g i n t h e 1 9 6 0 s . W h e n t h e c o m m u n i t y d e c i d e d t o c o n s i d e r t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f t h e t h e a t r e a s a c u l t u r a l c e n t r e f o r t h e c o m m u n i t y , t h e b u i l d i n g w a s o w n e d b y N . A . I n v e s t m e n t A d v i s o r s , L o s A n g e l e s , C a l i f o r n i a {TNT D e c e m b e r 2 2 , 1 9 7 4 ) . ï ï l ï î ï ï î i r f f r i r f ï i î f i f f r r T h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e ( T h e J o n e s B u i l d i n g ) , T a c o m a . 3 . 1 . 3 C i v i c R e s p o n s e : P a n t a g e s R e s t o r a t i o n P r o j e c t F o r t h r e e d e c a d e s t h e c i t i z e n s o f T a c o m a w e r e f r u s t r a t e d i n t h e i r a t t e m p t s to r e c e i v e f u n d i n g f o r a n e w p e r f o r m i n g a r t s c e n t r e . T h e r e h a d b e e n g r a s s - r o o t s a c t i o n d i r e c t e d t o w a r d t h e u s e o f t h e P a n t a g e s f o r a n u m b e r o f y e a r s . T h e m o s t i m p o r t a n t d r i v i n g f o r c e b e h i n d t h e g r a s s - r o o t s m o v e m e n t w a s a g r o u p o f w o m e n l e d b y V i r g i n i a S h a c k l e f o r d , w h o i n h e r y o u t h h a d b e e n a p e r f o r m e r i n t h e v a u d e v i l l e c i r c u i t a n d h a d a p p e a r e d o n t h e P a n t a g e s s t a g e . The Seattle Times, J a n u a r y 1 6 , 1 9 8 3 , q u o t e s S h a c k l e f o r d , " I s w e a r I ' m t h e o n l y o n e w h o k n e w e i g h t y e a r s a g o t h a t w e w e r e g o i n g t o h a v e t h i s t h e a t e r . " I n 1 9 7 - 5 , a f t e r t h e v o t e r s d e f e a t e d a b o n d i s s u e f o r a p r o p o s e d c i v i c c e n t r e a n d t h e a t r e c o m p l e x , t h e C i v i c A r t s C o m m i s s i o n t u r n e d i t s f u l l a t t e n t i o n to t h e d o w n t o w n P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e . T h e P a n t a g e s a n d t h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e s a r e t h e l a s t o f t h e d o w n t o w n m o v i e p a l a c e s a n d w e r e a t t h e e n d o f t h e i r f u n c t i o n a l d a y s w h e n t h e i r v a l u e w a s i d e n t i f i e d b y t h e c i t i z e n s o f T a c o m a . T h e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n c a s e s t u d i e s i n T a c o m a , t h e P a n t a g e s a n d t h e R i a l t o p r o j e c t s , c o m b i n e t h e i m p o r t a n t i n g r e d i e n t s n e c e s s a r y f o r t h e s u c c e s s o f s u c h p r o j e c t s : . a g r o u p o f o l d - t h e a t r e b u f f s a n d t h o s e i n t e r e s t e d i n c o m m u n i t y c u l t u r a l f a c i l i t i e s c o m e t o g e t h e r i n c o m m o n c a u s e ; . a n e e d i s i d e n t i f i e d w i t h i n t h e c o m m u n i t y w i t h r e s p e c t to a v e n u e f o r c u l t u r a l e v e n t s ; . a t h e a t r e i s i d e n t i f i e d a s h a v i n g h i s t o r i c a l a n d c u l t u r a l s i g n i f i c a n c e ; . e c o n o m i c a d a p t a t i o n t o m o d e r n n e e d s i s e s t a b l i s h e d a n d t h e r e q u i r e d f u n d i n g i s c o n s i d e r e d f e a s i b l e . T h e T a c o m a c i t i z e n r y h a d d e m o n s t r a t e d a n e e d f o r a m a j o r t h e a t r e o v e r a p e r i o d o f y e a r s . T h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e w a s i d e n t i f i e d a s a v i a b l e o p t i o n a n d t h e g r a s s - r o o t s g r o u p w a s a w a r e o f a l l t h e f u n d i n g p o s s i b i l i t i e s a v a i l a b l e . W h i l e a l l o f t h e s e e l e m e n t s a r e n e c e s s a r y to a s s u r e t h e s u c c e s s o f a h i s t o r i c r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t , t h e y a r e n o t s u f f i c i e n t . T h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f t h e a t r e s o r s i m i l a r c i v i c p r o j e c t s c a n n o t b e s u c c e s s f u l w i t h o u t a h i g h d e g r e e o f i n d i v i d u a l a n d g r o u p d e v o t i o n a n d e f f o r t , a n d o f t e n o n e p e r s o n c a n m a k e t h e d i f f e r e n c e . A m a j o r g r a s s - r o o t s m o b i l i z a t i o n w a s r e q u i r e d to g e t t h e P a n t a g e s b u i l t . ( V i r g i n i a ) S h a c k e l f o r d a b a n d o n e d a c a r e e r a s a p o l i t i c a l a n a l y s t o n r a d i o t o s p e n d f u l l t i m e l o b b y i n g f o r t h e t h e a t e r . . . . " H o n e y , I w o u l d h a v e y o u i n t e a r s , " s h e s a i d , " I c o u l d t e l l y o u f o r h o u r s h o w f o r o v e r 2 y e a r s ( d u r i n g t h e g o v e r n m e n t l o b b y i n g ) I a t e , s l e p t , d r a n k a n d t h o u g h t o f t h i s t h e a t e r s e v e n d a y s a w e e k a n d 2 4 h o u r s a d a y . I t w a s a f u l l - t i m e j o b " ( C o h e n 1 9 8 3 ) . 3 . 1 . 4 T h e P a n t a g e s : F u n d i n g R e s t o r a t i o n a n d R e u s e T h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t e r r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t w a s f u n d e d i n t h e f o l l o w i n g m a n n e r : . T h e C o m m u n i t y D e v e l o p m e n t D e p a r t m e n t p r o v i d e d $ 4 , 0 0 0 t o t h e C i v i c A r t s C o m m i s s i o n to e n a b l e t h e m to c o m m i s s i o n a s t u d y t h a t w o u l d d e t e r m i n e t h e f e a s i b i l i t y o f a d a p t i n g t h e o l d t h e a t r e to a c i v i c a r t s c e n t r e f o r t h e c o m m u n i t y . R i c h a r d M c C a n n , a S e a t t l e a r c h i t e c t t h a t h a d b e e n a p r o t e g e o f t h e o r i g i n a l a r c h i t e c t , P r i t e c a , c o n c l u d e d t h a t , a t a c o s t o f a p p r o x i m a t e l y $ 6 m i U i o n , a m e r e o n e - f o u r t h o f t h e e s t i m a t e d c o s t o f a n e w a r t s c e n t r e , t h e P a n t a g e s c o u l d b e s u c c e s s f u l l y c o n v e r t e d . T h e t h e a t r e h a d t h e n e c e s s a r y p r e r e q u i s i t e s : n e e d w a s e s t a b l i s h e d a n d a d a p t a t i o n w a s a s c e r t a i n e d - i t h a d t h e f a m o u s P r i t e c a a c o u s t i c a l a c c e l e r a t o r i n s t a l l e d u n d e r t h e l o w e r b a l c o n y ; a r c h i t e c t u r a l a n d h i s t o r i c s i g n i f i c a n c e w a s d o c u m e n t e d - t h e b u i l d i n g r e p r e s e n t e d t h e e a r U e s t e x t a n t e x a m p l e o f A r c h i t e c t B . M a r c u s P r i t e c a ' s t h e a t r e - o f f i c e b u i l d i n g d e s i g n s . E x c e l l e n t p a r k i n g f a c i l i t i e s e x i s t e d n e a r b y . . I n o r d e r t o t a p f e d e r a l f u n d i n g , a p p l i c a t i o n w a s m a d e t o h a v e t h e b u i l d i n g a d d e d to t h e N a t i o n a l R e g i s t e r o f H i s t o r i c P l a c e s . T h i s w a s a c c o m p l i s h e d i n 1 9 7 6 . . I n J u n e o f 1 9 7 6 a f e d e r a l l y f u n d e d s t u d y o f e s t i m a t e s f o r t h e P a n t a g e s r e s t o r a t i o n c o s t s s h o w e d a t o t a l o f a p p r o x i m a t e l y $ 3 . 2 m i l h o n w o u l d b e r e q u i r e d [TNT F e b r u a r y 1 0 , 1 9 8 3 ) . . T h e P a n t a g e s a n d t h e a d j o i n i n g d e r e l i c t I l h n g t o n H o t e l w e r e p u r c h a s e d f o r $ 4 5 0 , 0 0 0 i n 1 9 7 8 w i t h u r b a n d e v e l o p m e n t f u n d s p r o v i d e d t o T a c o m a b y t h e f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t . . A n o n - p r o f i t o r g a n i z a t i o n w i t h a v o l u n t e e r b o a r d o f d i r e c t o r s w a s e s t a b l i s h e d a n d t h e t a s k o f f u n d - r a i s i n g f o r r e n o v a t i o n c o s t s w a s u n d e r t a k e n . . A $ 3 0 , 0 0 0 g r a n t f r o m t h e N a t i o n a l E n d o w m e n t f o r t h e A r t s w a s g r a n t e d t o p a y f o r t h e p r e l i m i n a r y p l a n s f o r t h e r e n o v a t i o n . . A S t a t e H i s t o r i c C h a l l e n g e G r a n t w a s a l s o a w a r d e d to t h e p r o j e c t . . T h e p r o j e c t w o u l d q u a l i f y f o r a $ 1 . 5 m i l l i o n s h a r e o f a p r o p o s e d $ 4 0 m i l l i o n s t a t e b o n d i s s u e f o r c u l t u r a l p r o j e c t s a n d h i s t o r i c a l p r e s e r v a t i o n . . A f e d e r a l m a t c h i n g g r a n t o f $ 1 . 5 m i l l i o n w a s t o - b e a v a i l a b l e , h o w e v e r b y M a r c h o f 1 9 8 1 , d u e t o P r e s i d e n t R e a g a n ' s a u s t e r i t y p r o g r a m a n d b u d g e t c u t s , t h e E c o n o m i c D e v e l o p m e n t A d m i n i s t r a t i o n ( E D A ) s t o o d a c h a n c e o f b e i n g d i s m a n t l e d . . T h e D i r e c t o r o f I n t e r g o v e r n m e n t a l A f f a i r s i n O l y m p i a w a s a s k e d t o p r e s s f o r a c h a n g e i n l e g i s l a t i o n so t h a t t h e C i t y o f T a c o m a c o u l d b e a s s u r e d o f t h e $ 1 . 5 m i l l i o n f e d e r a l m a t c h i n g f u n d s n e e d e d t o a s s u r e a L e g i s l a t u r e a p p r o v e d b o n d i s s u e f o r t h e p r o j e c t . T h i s w a s s u c c e s s f u l l y a c c o m p l i s h e d t h r o u g h a g r e a t d e a l o f p o l i t i c a l a r m t w i s t i n g ( C o h e n 1 9 8 3 ) . . T h e l o c a l f u n d d r i v e h o p e d to r a i s e $ 1 . 6 m i l l i o n . B y A p r i l o f 1 9 8 1 T a c o m a C i t y o f f i c i a l s w a r n e d t h e B o a r d o f D i r e c t o r s t h a t t h e t h e a t r e c o u l d l o s e i t s $ 1 . 5 m i l l i o n s t a t e b o n d g r a n t i f $ 1 . 5 m i l h o n i n p u b l i c f u n d s w e r e n o t m e t b y M a y 1. T h e r e h a d b e e n $ 8 1 1 , 0 0 0 i n d o n a t i o n s a n d p l e d g e s c o l l e c t e d , h o w e v e r , $ 7 0 0 , 0 0 0 a d d i t i o n a l f u n d s w e r e r e q u i r e d . . B y S e p t e m b e r o f 1 9 8 1 t h e r e q u i r e d f u n d s h a d n o t b e e n c o l l e c t e d a n d t h e f u n d - r a i s i n g o f f i c i a l s h a d a s k e d t h e T a c o m a C i t y C o u n c i l t o p r o m i s e t o l o a n t h e p r o j e c t a n y m o n e y n o t r a i s e d b y t h e t i m e c o n s t r u c t i o n b i l l s a r e p r e s e n t e d . 3 . 1 . 5 F i n a n c i a l W o e s a n d C r e a t i v e B o o k k e e p i n g T h e g h o s t o f f i n a n c i a l w o e s h a u n t m o s t t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s , e s p e c i a l l y w h e n f i n a n c i n g i s d e p e n d e n t o n t h e p u b l i c s e c t o r . A g r e a t d e a l o f k n o w l e d g e a n d p l a n n i n g i s r e q u i r e d i n t h e a r e a o f f u n d r a i s i n g a n d t h e P a n t a g e s f u n d r a i s i n g c o m m i t t e e h a d m u c h t o l e a r n . T h e r e w e r e n u m e r o u s p r o b l e m s w i t h f u n d r a i s i n g d u r i n g 1 9 8 1 . P r e s i d e n t i a l a n d c o n g r e s s i o n a l e l e c t i o n c a m p a i g n s c o m p e t e d f o r f u n d s . F o r m o n t h s t h e E D A f u n d i n g w a s i n d o u b t , t h e r e f o r e p r i v a t e d o n a t i o n s w e r e h e l d i n a b e y a n c e . E v e n t h e n a m e o f t h e t h e a t r e w a s a p r o b l e m i n t h a t m a n y k n e w t h e t h e a t r e a s t h e R o x y , a n d d i d n o t i d e n t i f y w i t h t h e n a m e P a n t a g e s . T a c o m a i s n o t t h e b u s i n e s s c e n t r e o f P i e r c e C o u n t y a n d t h e r e f o r e h a d a l i m i t e d n u m b e r o f l a r g e d o n o r s t o c a l l u p o n . A t t h e c i t y l e v e l , t h i n g s w e r e n ' t m u c h e a s i e r . W h i l e t h e T a c o m a D o m e , a l s o u n d e r c o n s t r u c t i o n , h a d n o t r o u b l e b a l l o o n i n g i t s $ 2 7 m i l l i o n v o t e r - a p p r o v e d b u d g e t t o $ 4 4 m i l l i o n w i t h a c i t y - c o u n c i l i n s i d e l e v y , b a c k e r s o f t h e $ 6 m i l l i o n P a n t a g e s r e s t o r a t i o n h a d t o f i g h t t o o t h a n d n a i l f o r t h i n g s l i k e a $ 1 m i l l i o n g u a r a n t e e i t n e e d e d so c o n s t r u c t i o n c o u l d b e g i n . . . ( C o h e n 1 9 8 3 ) . M a j o r c o n t r i b u t o r s w e r e - W e y e r h a e u s e r , w h i c h a l l o c a t e d $ 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 , t h r e e d o n a t i o n s o f $ 5 0 , 0 0 0 , a n d 1 0 c o n t r i b u t i o n s o f b e t w e e n $ 2 5 , 0 0 0 a n d $ 3 5 , 0 0 0 . S o m e o f t h e s e c o n t r i b u t i o n s w e r e f r o m f o u n d a t i o n s h o w e v e r m a n y f o u n d a t i o n s do n o t d o n a t e t o w a r d c a p i t a l e x p e n s e s ( C o h e n 1 9 8 1 ) . V i r g i n i a S h a c k e l f o r d s p e a r h e a d e d t h e " b u y - a - b r i c k " p r o g r a m m e w h e r e b y i n d i v i d u a l b r i c k s a r e p u r c h a s e d f o r $ 2 5 , i n s c r i b e d w i t h n a m e s , a n d i n s t a l l e d o n t h e f l o o r o f B r o a d w a y P l a z a i n f r o n t o f t h e t h e a t r e . M o r e t h a n $ 5 0 , 0 0 0 w a s r a i s e d i n t h i s m a n n e r ( C o h e n 1 9 8 3 ) . T h e o r i g i n a l 3 0 - m e m b e r b o a r d d i r e c t i n g t h e P a n t a g e s p r o j e c t w a s o v e r l y o p t i m i s t i c w i t h r e s p e c t to h o w m u c h m o n e y i t c o u l d r a i s e o n i t s o w n . T h e B o a r d e v e n t u a l l y h a d to s p e n d $ 4 , 0 0 0 p e r m o n t h f o r p u b l i c i t y , s a l a r i e s a n d o f f i c e s u p p l i e s f o r t h e f u n d d r i v e . T h e s e e x p e n s e s h a d n o t b e e n b u d g e t e d f o r . " I t h i n k s o m e p e o p l e i n t h e i r e n t h u s i a s m d i d n ' t c o m p r e h e n d t h e s i z e o f t h e e f f o r t " ( C o h e n 1 9 8 1 ) . T h e p r o j e c t w a s p l a g u e d b y c o n s t r u c t i o n d e l a y s , d i s p u t e o v e r s t a g e s i z e a n d p r o b l e m s w i t h b u d g e t a n d s o m e d e s i g n d e t a i l s . T h e r e n o v a t i o n p r o j e c t s t a r t e d n i n e m o n t h s b e h i n d s c h e d u l e , i n D e c e m b e r o f 1 9 8 1 . S e a t s a n d w o r n c a r p e t w e r e r e p l a c e d , n e w h e a t i n g , p l u m b i n g a n d e l e c t r i c a l s e r v i c e s w e r e i n s t a l l e d , t h e s t a g e w a s c a r e f u l l y e x t e n d e d b y 1 0 f e e t t o a w i d t h o f 4 5 f e e t a n d d e l i c a t e o r n a m e n t a l m o l d i n g s w e r e r e s t o r e d a n d r e p l a c e d t h r o u g h o u t t h e a u d i t o r i u m . D u r i n g W o r l d W a r I I t h e b e a u t i f u l d o m e h a d b e e n p a i n t e d a n i n s t i t u t i o n a l g r e e n i n o r d e r t o b l o c k o u t t h e l i g h t . T h e e x t e r i o r w a s c l e a n e d , a t h e a t r e a n n e x w a s b u i l t o n t h e I l l i n g t o n H o t e l s i t e to h o u s e w a r d r o b e , w o r k s h o p a n d r e h e a r s a l s p a c e , a f r e i g h t e l e v a t o r a n d d e l i v e r y a c c e s s . A n e w l o b b y , s t a i r c a s e , a n d r a m p f o r h a n d i c a p p e d a c c e s s w e r e a d d e d a l o n g w i t h 1 0 m o d e r n d r e s s i n g r o o m s , s t a r s ' l o u n g e , c o m p u t e r i z e d l i g h t i n g b o a r d s a n d s o u n d s y s t e m ( S y p h e r 1 9 8 3 ) . T h e P a n t a g e s w a s p l a n n e d t o p r o v i d e a s m a l l e r , a t t r a c t i v e a l t e r n a t i v e to t h e F i f t h A v e n u e i n S e a t t l e . T h e F i f t h A v e n u e t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n w a s p r i v a t e l y financed b y a c o n s o r t i u m o f p r i v a t e i n v e s t o r s i n v o l v e d i n r e d e v e l o p i n g a d o w n t o w n s h o p p i n g c o m p l e x , o f w h i c h t h e t h e a t r e w a s a p a r t . T h e P a n t a g e s w a s p l a n n e d to f a c i l i t a t e t h e s m a l l e r n a t i o n a l s h o w s a n d h o p e d to a t t r a c t t h e S e a t t l e a u d i e n c e . S t e p h e n R o t h m a n , t h e t h e a t r e c o n s u l t a n t , p r e d i c t e d t h a t t h e t h e a t r e w o u l d r e q u i r e s u b s i d i z a t i o n f o r a t l e a s t five y e a r s a f t e r o p e n i n g ( J o n e s 1 9 8 0 ) . T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a i n c l u d e d t h e P a n t a g e s a s a " U n e i t e m " i n t h e c i t y ' s b u d g e t e v e r y y e a r f o r a r o u n d $ 2 0 0 , 0 0 0 . V e r y h t t l e o f t h i s f u n d i n g w a s u n r e s t r i c t e d b u t w a s e a r m a r k e d f o r l o n g t e r m c o s t s i n v o l v e d i n t h e J o n e s b u i l d i n g r e n o v a t i o n . T h i s m o n e y i s a v a i l a b l e to t h e C i t y o f T a c o m a t h r o u g h a c o n t r o v e r s i a l financial a r r a n g e m e n t t h a t w a s m a d e i n J a n u a r y o f 1 9 8 3 . T o p r o v i d e t h e P a n t a g e s w i t h a r e g u l a r s o u r c e o f o p e r a t i n g i n c o m e , t h e c i t y e n t e r e d i n t o a c o m p l i c a t e d s a l e - l e a s e a g r e e m e n t w i t h t h e M u n i c i p a l a u t h o r i t y , t h e c i t y ' s p u b l i c c o r p o r a t i o n , a n d U r b a n S e c u r i t i e s I n c . , o f N e w Y o r k . T h i s w a s h u r r i e d l y p u t i n t o p l a c e b e f o r e o p e n i n g n i g h t . E s s e n t i a l l y , t h e c i t y s o l d f e d e r a l t a x c r e d i t s - w h i c h t h e c i t y c o u l d n o t u s e i t s e l f - to U r b a n S e c u r i t i e s . T h e 1 9 8 2 T a x R e f o r m A c t m a d e t h i s a r r a n g e m e n t f a v o u r a b l e t o i n v e s t o r s . T h e r e w a s m u c h c o m m u n i t y c o n c e r n i l l u s t r a t e d w h e n n e w s o f t h e a r r a n g e m e n t w a s m a d e p u b l i c a n d t h e P a n t a g e s C e n t r e p r o d u c e d a n e w s l e t t e r i n a n a t t e m p t to a n s w e r q u e s t i o n s r e l a t e d t o t h e b u s i n e s s t r a n s a c t i o n a n d w h o w a s t o b e n e f i t . T h e g o v e r n i n g c o v e n a n t s . . . p r o h i b i t e d t h e s a l e o r l e a s e o f f u n d e d p r o j e c t s w i t h o u t a u t h o r i z a t i o n f r o m t h e S e c r e t a r y a n d t h e n o n l y i f t h e C i t y r e p a i d t h e $ 1 . 5 m i U i o n s i n f e d e r a l E c o n o m i c D e v e l o p m e n t A d m i n i s t r a t i o n f u n d s w i t h i n t e r e s t . W e h a d to c h a n g e t h e f e d e r a l l a w . W i t h c o n s i d e r a b l e h e l p f r o m o u r C o n g r e s s i o n a l R e p r e s e n t a t i v e N o r m D i c k s a n d S e n a t o r S l a d e G o r t o n a l a w w a s p a s s e d a n d s i g n e d b y P r e s i d e n t R e a g a n o n l y l a s t D e c e m b e r 2 2 , 1 9 8 2 , w h i c h s p e c i f i c a l l y a l l o w e d t h e s a l e o f t h e P a n t a g e s ( L u c i e n 1 9 8 3 ) . T h e c i t y w o u l d r e c e i v e t h e m o n e y i n t h e f i r s t f i v e y e a r s o f t h e c o n t r a c t . T h e t a x s a l e w o u l d g e n e r a t e a b o u t $ 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 i n i n t e r e s t y e a r l y b e g i n n i n g i n 1 9 8 8 , h o w e v e r t h e c i t y i s r e q u i r e d t o p a y l e a s i n g c h a r g e s o f $ 8 9 , 0 0 0 a y e a r f r o m 1 9 9 0 . T h e c i t y r e t a i n e d o w n e r s h i p o f t h e l a n d ( L u c i e n 1 9 8 3 ) . I t i s d i f f i c u l t t o u n d e r s t a n d w h y t h e c i t y w o u l d b e c o m e i n v o l v e d i n s u c h a n a r r a n g e m e n t f o r r e l a t i v e l y s m a l l y e a r l y i n c o m e . The Seattle Times, 1 6 J a n u a r y 1 9 8 3 , e x p l a i n e d t h e a r r a n g e m e n t . S e v e r a l p a r t i e s b e n e f i t e d f r o m t h e t r a n s a c t i o n . A S e a t t l e l a w f i r m w h i c h r e p r e s e n t e d t h e c i t y w a s p a i d $ 1 0 6 , 0 0 0 , t h e c o n s u l t a n t w h o a r r a n g e d t h e d e a l w a s p a i d $ 1 0 3 , 0 0 0 o v e r s i x y e a r s . U r b a n S e c u r i t i e s g o t a t a x c r e d i t o f m o r e t h a n $ 1 . 2 5 m i l l i o n a n d w i l l b e a b l e to d e p r e c i a t e $ 6 . 9 m i l l i o n - t h e n e w a p p r a i s e d v a l u e o f t h e b u i l d i n g - o v e r 15 y e a r s . T h e c i t y ' s n e t g a i n f r o m t h e s a l e - b a s e d o n t h e 6 5 - y e a r t e r m o f t h e d e a l - i s e s t i m a t e d a t $ 6 2 3 , 0 0 0 . B u t t h a t e s t i m a t e i s b a s e d o n a s s u m p t i o n s a b o u t t h e s t a t e o f t h e e c o n o m y 3 5 to 4 5 y e a r s i n t o t h e f u t u r e , w h e n t h e c i t y w i l l h a v e t h e o p t i o n o f b u y i n g o u t t h e l e a s e . C i t y o f f i c i a l s s a y t h e y t r i e d to m a k e s u r e t h e c i t y g o t a g o o d d e a l , b u t t h e y a l s o c o n c e d e t h a t t h e w i s d o m o f t h e t r a n s a c t i o n w o n ' t b e a s c e r t a i n a b l e u n t i l l o n g a f t e r t h e p a r t i e s to t h e d e a l h a v e p a s s e d o n . T h e h e a d l i n e o f t h e Seattle Daily Journal of Commerce, 12 F e b r u a r y 1 9 8 3 , a n n o u n c e d " P a n t a g e s C e n t r e O p e n s T o n i g h t . . . . T h e e v e n t w i l l c a p a f i v e - y e a r p e r i o d o f f u n d r a i s i n g f o r t h e $ 6 m i l l i o n r e s t o r a t i o n o f t h e t h e a t e r w h i c h o p e n e d i n 1 9 1 8 . " B r e a k o u t t h e c h a m p a g n e ! A n d T a c o m a d i d . . . . d r e s s u p i n f m e r y ! . . . W o m e n a r r i v e d i n f u r s a n d j e w e l s a n d g o w n s . A s f o r t h e m e n , e v e r y t u x - r e n t a l s h o p i n T a c o m a m u s t h a v e b e e n d o w n to b a r e h a n g e r s . . . . L i m o u s i n e s p u l l e d u p to u n l o a d d i g n i t a r i e s . T h o s e w h o c o n t r i b u t e d to t h e p r o j e c t l o o k e d f o r t h e i r n a m e s o n p l a q u e s i n t h e l o b b y o r o n t h e 4 , 5 0 0 n a m e - s t a m p e d b r i c k s o u t s i d e . . . . I t w a s t h e s o r t o f n i g h t w h e r e G o v . J o h n S p e l l m a n h a i l e d t h e a r t s - f u n d i n g w o r k o f h i s p r e d e c e s s o r , D i x i e L e e R a y . . . . I t w a s t h e s o r t o f n i g h t w h e r e U . S . S e n . S l a d e G o r t o n p a i d t r i b u t e to h i s p r e d e c e s s o r f o r g e t t i n g f e d e r a l f u n d s f o r t h e p r o j e c t . I t w a s t h e s o r t o f n i g h t w h e r e G o r t o n a n d C o n g r e s s m a n N o r m D i c k s - o n e a R e p u b l i c a n a n d t h e o t h e r a D e m o c r a t - s t o o d s i d e b y s i d e b e f o r e t h e a s s e m b l e d m e d i a a n d c o u l d n ' t find e n o u g h k i n d w o r d s to s a y a b o u t e a c h o t h e r . I t w a s t h e s o r t o f n i g h t m a n y n e v e r e x p e c t e d t o h a p p e n i n T a c o m a ' s d o w n t o w n a r e a , l o n g a v i c t i m o f n e g l e c t a n d d e c a y , b u t n o w , a p p a r e n t l y o n t h e r o a d to a s t r i k i n g c o m e b a c k ( D u n c a n 1 9 8 3 ) . T h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e R e n o v a t i o n . I t w a s n o t l o n g b e f o r e n e w s p a p e r h e a d l i n e s i n f o r m e d t h e T a c o m a r e a d e r s h i p t h a t t h e P a n t a g e s w a s i n financial t r o u b l e . J o s e p h T u r n e r i n The Tacoma News Tribune, M a y 2 6 , 1 9 8 5 , r e p o r t e d . S u p p o r t e r s o f t h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e , flagship o f t h e a r t s i n T a c o m a , a r e t a k i n g e m e r g e n c y s t e p s t o s t e e r c l e a r o f financial p r o b l e m s t h a t t h r e a t e n to s i n k i t . . . . O p e r a t i o n a l l y , . . . , P a n t a g e s w a s i n financial t r o u b l e a f t e r i t s first s e a s o n . D u r i n g t h e s e c o n d s e a s o n , t h e t h e a t e r n o t o n l y f a i l e d to e r a s e i t s first-season l o s s e s , b u t s a n k f a r t h e r i n t o d e b t . T h e t h e a t e r l o s t a b o u t $ 1 2 5 , 0 0 0 i n e a c h o f i t s first t w o y e a r s o f o p e r a t i o n . T h e b o a r d o f d i r e c t o r s f o r t h e t h e a t r e h i r e d a c o n s u l t a n t to d e t e r m i n e r e a s o n s f o r t h e d e f i c i t a n d to i n v e s t i g a t e p o s s i b l e s o l u t i o n s . A m o n g t h e p r o b l e m s c i t e d i n t h e r e p o r t w e r e : . P o o r m a r k e t i n g a n d p r o m o t i o n . . P r o b l e m s w i t h s t a f f t r a i n i n g a n d m a n a g e m e n t . . F a i l u r e o f t h e b o a r d o f d i r e c t o r s t o s h i f t i t s e m p h a s i s f r o m t h e f u n d - r a i s i n g , s t a r t - u p p h a s e to c o n t i n u i n g o p e r a t i o n s . A l s o , s m a l l c u l t u r a l g r o u p s f o u n d t h e t h e a t r e too e x p e n s i v e . A l t h o u g h t h e r e n t a l c h a r g e s w e r e r e a s o n a b l e , u n i o n r a t e s f o r s t a g e c r e w s a n d u s h e r s h a d to b e p a i d w h e t h e r t h e y w o r k e d o r n o t a n d c o s t s u p t o a s m u c h a s $ 3 0 0 0 f o r o n e n i g h t w e r e t h e r e s u l t . T o k e e p t h e P a n t a g e s a f l o a t t h r o u g h i t s t h i r d s e a s o n , t h e b o a r d o f d i r e c t o r s h a s a r r a n g e d f o r a $ 2 0 0 , 0 0 0 l i n e o f c r e d i t f r o m a c o n s o r t i u m o f l o c a l b a n k s , a n d 2 2 o f t h e 3 5 d i r e c t o r s a r e p e r s o n a l l y g u a r a n t e e i n g h a l f . O f i t s t h i r d - y e a r b u d g e t o f $ 9 7 5 , 0 0 0 , t h e t h e a t e r b o a r d i s b a n k i n g o n r a i s i n g n e a r l y $ 3 5 4 , 0 0 f r o m c o r p o r a t i o n s , f o u n d a t i o n s , a s t a t e g r a n t a n d t h e c o m m u n i t y . B u t e v e n t h e n , o n l y $ 6 7 , 0 0 0 o f t h e $ 2 5 0 , 0 0 0 d e f i c i t w o u l d be e l i m i n a t e d ( T u r n e r 1 9 8 5 ) . The Tacoma News Tribune, D e c e m b e r 2 9 , 1 9 8 5 , r e p o r t e d n e w s o f t h e s t r u g g l e to r a i s e financing f o r t h e 1 9 8 5 - 1 9 8 6 s e a s o n , a n e s t i m a t e d $ 3 5 4 , 0 0 0 . A l a r g e f u n d - r a i s e r , a B o s t o n P o p s c o n c e r t a t t h e T a c o m a D o m e , r a i s e d $ 8 1 , 8 9 9 a n d t h e T a c o m a C i t y C o u n c i l e x t e n d e d a l o a n o f $ 4 2 , 0 0 0 f o r a n o t h e r y e a r . T h e T a c o m a / P i e r c e C o u n t y C o r p o r a t e C o u n c i l f o r t h e A r t s a w a r d e d g r a n t s t o t a l l i n g $ 2 7 , 0 0 0 . T h e P a n t a g e s m a n a g e d t o o p e r a t e " i n t h e b l a c k " t h r o u g h 1 9 8 5 d u e t o a n i m p r o v e d a p p r o a c h t o m a r k e t i n g a n d s o m e i n - h o u s e a d m i n i s t r a t i v e c h a n g e s . A s u r v e y w a s t a k e n t o i d e n t i f y a u d i e n c e t a s t e s , r a t h e r t h a n h a v i n g a n a r t i s t i c d i r e c t o r d e c i d e a b o u t p r o g r a m m i n g . B y 1 9 9 0 t h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e w a s e c o n o m i c a l l y s t a b l e a n d s t o o d a s a n e x a m p l e o f a v e r y s u c c e s s f u l r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e p r o j e c t . A l t h o u g h i t h a d b e e n a s t r u g g l e , t h e P a n t a g e s s u r v i v e d a n d w a s to p r o v i d e a s t r o n g b a s e f o r f u t u r e i n n e r - c i t y r e j u v e n a t i o n p r o j e c t s . T h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e a n d t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n o f t h e " t a l k i e s . " 3 . 2 C A S E S T U D Y : T H E R I A L T O T H E A T R E , T A C O M A 3 . 2 . 1 T h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e W h e n t h e R i a l t o o p e n e d i n S e p t e m b e r o f 1 9 1 8 i t w a s a d v e r t i s e d a s t h e N o r t h w e s t ' s m o s t b e a u t i f u l t h e a t r e b y The Tacoma Sunday Ledger, 8 S e p t e m b e r 1 9 1 8 . " I t w a s d e c o r a t e d i n b l u e a n d g o l d a n d h a d a g e n t l e m e n ' s s m o k i n g r o o m d e c o r a t e d i n E n g l i s h o a k . . . . " w h i l e t h e w o m e n ' s r e s t r o o m i s a d v e r t i s e d to b e a " d r e a m o f d a i n t i n e s s . " T h e t h e a t r e w a s a l s o l a u d e d a s h a v i n g b e e n a b o o m t o t h e c o n s t r u c t i o n i n d u s t r y - " A T h e a t e r t h a t i s a M o n u m e n t to t h e W o r t h o f T a c o m a L a b o r . " T h e R i a l t o w a s d e s i g n e d t o b e p r i m a r i l y a m o v i e t h e a t e r a n d w a s u n u s u a l i n t h a t t h e p r o j e c t i o n r o o m w a s o n t h e m a i n f l o o r w h i c h p r o v i d e d a p a r t i c u l a r l y g o o d i m a g e . " T h e R i a l t o w a s t h e p l a c e to s e e m o v i e s " ( W o o d , 1 9 9 1 ) . B u i l t b y t h e M o o r e A m u s e m e n t C o m p a n y , t h e t h e a t r e w a s c o n n e c t e d w i t h P a r a m o u n t o f A r t c r a f t P i c t u r e s - p a r t o f t h e F o x d i s t r i b u t i o n c h a i n . C o r n e l i u s V a n d e r b i l t a n d 2 , 0 0 0 T a c o m a n s a t t e n d e d o p e n i n g n i g h t ; i t h a d t h e a s s e t o f h a v i n g a g e n u i n e W u r l i t z e r o r g a n , t h e s e c o n d i n s t a l l e d w e s t o f t h e M i s s i s s i p p i {TNT, 2 3 S e p t e m b e r 1 9 9 0 ) . I n 1 9 3 3 t h e F o x c h a i n w e n t i n t o b a n k r u p t c y a n d t h e R i a l t o c l o s e d . P a c i f i c N o r t h w e s t T h e a t e r s p u r c h a s e d i t i n 1 9 2 7 a n d a " p o p u l a r p r i c e " p o l i c y w a s i n s t i t u t e d . F i r s t a n d s e c o n d - r u n films w e r e s h o w n ; m o v i e s c h a n g e d t h r e e t i m e s a w e e k . I n 1 9 3 3 t h e i n t e r i o r w a s b r i g h t e n e d a n d n e w s o u n d e q u i p m e n t w a s a d d e d . B y 1 9 4 9 i t w a s m a n a g e d b y H a m r i c k T h e a t e r s a n d i n 1 9 5 1 i t w a s a d v e r t i s e d a s o n e o f t h e C o a s t ' s f i n e s t m o v i e t h e a t e r s {TNT, 15 F e b r u a r y 1 9 5 1 ) . B y 1 9 5 4 t h e a t e r r e v e n u e s w e r e s e r i o u s l y d e c l i n i n g a n d t h e a t e r o w n e r s w e r e a t t e m p t i n g to h a v e a 5 p e r c e n t c i t y a d m i s s i o n t a x r e m o v e d a s d o w n t o w n a n d s u b u r b a n a d m i s s i o n s h a d d e c l i n e d 3 2 p e r c e n t f r o m t h e p e a k y e a r o f 1 9 4 9 . T h e m o v i e t h e a t r e s u r v i v e d i n t o t h e 1 9 8 0 s b e c a u s e i t w a s m a n a g e d c r e a t i v e l y a n d e f f i c i e n t l y a n d w a s n o t o c c u p y i n g p r o p e r t y c o n s i d e r e d to b e p r i m e r e a l e s t a t e . T h e R i a l t o w a s f o n d l y r e m e m b e r e d b y T a c o m a n s f o r t h e a n t i c s t h a t w e r e s t a g e d i n o r d e r to d r a w i n t h e m o v i e p a t r o n , f o r e x a m p l e , a n u r s e p l a c e d o n d u t y to m i n i s t e r to f r i g h t e n e d p a t r o n s a n d e l e c t r i c b u z z e r s i n s t a l l e d u n d e r s e a t s t o a s s u r e t h a t t h e y w e r e ! A s w i t h t h e P a n t a g e s , W i l l J . C o n n o r l e a s e d a n d e v e n t u a l l y o w n e d t h e t h e a t r e f r o m 1 9 5 1 t o A u g u s t o f 1 9 8 9 w h e n i t c l o s e d {TNT, 4 M a y 1 9 5 4 ) . 3 . 2 . 2 C i v i c A c t i o n a n d t h e R i a l t o R e s t o r a t i o n P r o j e c t " H o r a c e M a n n s a i d ' I f t h e r e b e a n y t r u e r m e a s u r e o f a m a n t h a n b y w h a t h e d o e s , i t m u s t b e b y w h a t h e g i v e s ' " ( T a c o m a , 1 9 9 0 - 9 1 ) . T h e C i t y o f S e a t t l e w o n d e r e d h o w t h e m u c h s m a l l e r T a c o m a m a n a g e d to s a v e t h e R i a l t o f o r t h e i r c o m m u n i t y w h e n t h e y h a d l o s t a s i m i l a r o p p o r t u n i t y a y e a r e a r l i e r . The Seattle Times, M a r c h 3 1 1 9 9 1 , h e a d l i n e " T h e a t e r E n v y " ( B a r g r e e n 1 9 9 1 ) r e p o r t e d t h a t T a c o m a h a d o n c e m o r e s u c c e s s f u l l y m a n a g e d to s a v e a d o w n t o w n h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e , t h e R i a l t o , f r o m t h e w r e c k e r s b a l l . T h e p r o j e c t e d r e o p e n i n g w a s f o r O c t o b e r o f 1 9 9 1 . T h i s t i m e a r o u n d , i n d i v i d u a l s d i d n o t h a v e to s t r u g g l e w i t h t h e c o m p l e x m a z e o f p a p e r w o r k i n v o l v e d i n o b t a i n i n g g r a n t s - G r a n t m a k e r C o n s u l t a n t s w a s h i r e d . T h e C i t y h i r e d a r c h i t e c t J a m e s R . M e r r i t , a n d W i l h a m W o o d , a t h e a t r e c o n s u l t a n t e x p e r i e n c e d i n h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e d e s i g n , r e s t o r a t i o n a n d m a n a g e m e n t . M r W o o d i s d e v o t e d t o t h e c h a l l e n g e o f t h e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s a n d s t a t e d , " Y o u c o u l d n ' t b u i l d h a l f a n e w t h e a t e r w i t h t h e m o n e y , a n d e v e n i f y o u c o u l d , y o u w o u l d n ' t h a v e t h e h i s t o r y " {TNT, 3 D e c e m b e r 1 9 9 0 ) . I t i s s t r a t e g i c t o t h e c u l t u r a l h e a l t h o f a c o m m u n i t y t h a t s m a l l e r l o c a l g r o u p s , n o t o n l y t h e l a r g e r o a d s h o w s a n d p r o f e s s i o n a l e n t e r t a i n e r s , h a v e a p l a c e t o p e r f o r m . T h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e o f t e n i s a p e r f e c t v e h i c l e . T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a r e c o g n i z e d t h e p r o b l e m s i n h e r e n t i n a c o m m u n i t y f a c i l i t y , s u c h a s t h e P a n t a g e s , t h a t i s b o t h too l a r g e a n d t o o e x p e n s i v e f o r s m a l l e r c u l t u r a l g r o u p s . T h e r e m e d y f o r t h i s d e f i c i e n c y i s t h e p r o v i s i o n o f a s m a l l e r v e n u e , p r o v i d e d t h e r e i s d o c u m e n t e d n e e d . T h e c o m m u n i t y o f T a c o m a d e c i d e d to r e s t o r e a n d r e u s e t h e s m a l l e r R i a l t o t h e a t r e a n d a l s o to b u i l d a n e w 3 0 0 s e a t r e p e r t o r y t h e a t r e , t h e B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r , o n t o p o f t h e P i e r c e T r a n s i t T u r n a b o u t f a c i l i t y w h i c h i s a t t a c h e d to t h e P a n t a g e s . T h e t h e a t r e w a s i n f a i r l y g o o d r e p a i r a n d t h e T e r r a c o t t a e x t e r i o r i s a p e r f e c t m a t c h to t h a t o f t h e P a n t a g e s . A c o u s t i c s c h e c k s p r o v e d p o s i t i v e . T h e r e n o v a t i o n p r o g r a m m e i n c l u d e s t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f t h e o r i g i n a l d e t a i l o n t h e e x i s t i n g i n t e g r a t e d s t o r e f r o n t s , c l e a n i n g o f t h e A m e r i c a n e a g l e s o v e r t h e e x i t s , r e s t o r a t i o n o f a s e c o n d - f l o o r r o t u n d a f o r g u e s t s , r e b u i l d i n g o f t h e o r i g i n a l s e a t s , s h o p a n d s t o r a g e s p a c e , a l o n g w i t h t h e u p g r a d i n g o f a l l h e a t i n g , e l e c t r i c a l a n d p l u m b i n g a n d f i r e s a f e t y s t a n d a r d s . W i t h s e n s i t i v e r e s t o r a t i o n o f i n t e r i o r d e t a i l a n d o r i g i n a l c o l o u r , a n e w 3 7 - f o o t s t a g e , r a i s e d r o o f a n d b a l c o n i e s , e a r t h q u a k e s a f e t y m e a s u r e s i n s t a l l e d , n e w d r e s s i n g r o o m s , s e p a r a t e w a s h r o o m s f o r t h e h a n d i c a p p e d , e x p a n d e d a n d r e s t o r e d l o b b y m o r e c o m f o r t a b l e s e a t i n g a r r a n g e m e n t s a n d v i e w l i n e s , t h e C i t y o f T a c o m a w i l l h a v e a n e x c e p t i o n a l f a c i l i t y t h a t w i l l a c c o m m o d a t e m o v i e s , c h a m b e r m u s i c , c o m e d y , c h i l d r e n p r o g r a m s a s w e l l a s t h e T a c o m a Y o u t h S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a . T h e o r i g i n a l R i a l t o h a d 1 5 0 0 s e a t s ; t h e r e s t o r e d t h e a t r e w i l l b e m o r e s p a c i o u s w i t h 7 5 0 o n t h e m a i n f l o o r a n d 1 5 0 i n t h e b a l c o n y , p e r f e c t f o r t h e n e e d s o f t h e s m a l l e r p r o d u c t i o n ( W o o d 1 9 9 1 ) . 3 . 2 . 3 B r o a d w a y T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t F u n d i n g T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a , d e c i d e d to m a k e a c o n c e r t e d e f f o r t t o u p g r a d e t h e d o w n t o w n a n d , w i t h t h e P a n t a g e s a s a n a n c h o r , e s t a b l i s h t h e B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r D i s t r i c t . R e c o m m e n d a t i o n s f o r e c o n o m i c r e v i t a l i z a t i o n c o n t a i n e d i n t h e 1 9 8 8 a d o p t e d A m e r i c a n C i t i e s P l a n e n c o u r a g e d b u s i n e s s a n d g o v e r n m e n t l e a d e r s to b e g i n d e v e l o p m e n t ( T a c o m a , 1 9 9 0 - 9 1 ) . T h e R i a l t o t h e a t r e , o n e b l o c k a w a y , o n t h e c o r n e r o f 9 t h a n d M a r k e t a n d B r o a d w a y , w a s v i e w e d a s a s t r a t e g i c p a r t o f t h e o v e r a l l p l a n . A d d i t i o n a l f a c i h t i e s p l a n n e d t o i n t e g r a t e t h e p i e c e s i n t o t h e c o m p l e t e c o n c e p t a r e - a t r a n s i t t u r n a b o u t , a n u r b a n p l a z a , a n e x p a n s i o n o f A n t i q u e R o w , a n d B r o a d w a y a n d C o m m e r c i a l S t r e e t i m p r o v e m e n t s . A d d i t i o n a l p a t r o n s a f e t y w a s a d d r e s s e d a s p a r t o f t h e p l a n n i n g p r o c e s s . T h e B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r D i s t r i c t C a m p a i g n i s a w e l l - d e s i g n e d , c i t y d r i v e n p r o j e c t d i r e c t e d b y a b r o a d s e c t o r o f t h e c o m m u n i t y w e l l r e p r e s e n t e d e i t h e r o n t h e C a p i t a l C a m p a i g n C o m m i t t e e , t h e B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r D i s t r i c t S t e e r i n g C o m m i t t e e o r t h e B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r T a s k F o r c e . W i t h W i l h a m T . W e y e r h a e u s e r a s C a p i t a l C a m p a i g n C h a i r m a n , t h e c o m m i t t e e e s t a b l i s h e d i m p o r t a n t g o a l s f o r T a c o m a ' s B r o a d w a y D i s t r i c t i n t h e c i t y c e n t r e . T h e s e w e r e : a) to p r o v i d e a c u l t u r a l c e n t e r f o r t h e c o m m u n i t y s e c o n d t o n o n e ; b) to s t r e n g t h e n t h e p e r f o r m i n g a r t s o r g a n i z a t i o n s b y p r o v i d i n g t h e m w i t h a p p r o p r i a t e f a c i l i t i e s ; c) t o a d d l i f e to t h e u r b a n c e n t e r , to d r a w n e w c u s t o m e r s a n d b u s i n e s s e s , c u l t u r a l i n s t i t u t i o n s a n d e n t e r t a i n m e n t f a c i l i t i e s . T h e b u d g e t r e q u i r e m e n t s t o t a l l e d $ 8 , 3 9 8 , 0 0 0 . T h i s i n c l u d e d t h e n e w 2 9 9 s e a t B r o a d w a y t h e a t e r ( $ 5 , 7 8 0 , 0 0 0 ) , t h e R i a l t o T h e a t e r ( $ 1 , 7 1 0 , 0 0 0 ) , t r a n s i t i o n f u n d f o r t h e t h r e e t h e a t r e u s e r s ( $ 2 4 0 , 0 0 0 ) , G a l l e r y s p a c e i n P a n t a g e s ( $ 2 4 0 , 0 0 0 ) , o f f i c e r e n o v a t i o n s i n J o n e s b u i l d i n g ( $ 2 5 0 , 0 0 0 ) , c a m p a i g n b u d g e t ( $ 2 0 , 0 0 0 ) a n d t h e u r b a n d e s i g n / p l a z a i n t e r f a c e ( $ 1 9 8 , 0 0 0 ) . T h e f u n d i n g o f t h e R i a l t o r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t a n d t h e B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r , w h i c h w o u l d c o m p l e t e t h e B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r D i s t r i c t f a c i l i t y r e q u i r e m e n t s , w o u l d b e p r o v i d e d a s f o l l o w s : . T h e s t r a t e g i c i n g r e d i e n t w a s t h e e x i s t e n c e o f a n a n o n y m o u s d o n o r w h o h a d m a d e a f o r t u n e i n t h e c o m m u n i t y a n d w a n t e d t o g i v e s o m e t h i n g b a c k . T h i s o n e d o n a t i o n w a s $ 1 . 5 m i l l i o n w h i c h w a s e n o u g h to p u r c h a s e a n d r e s t o r e t h e R i a l t o t h e a t r e p r o p e r t y . . T h e R i a l t o w a s p l a c e d o n T a c o m a ' s h i s t o r i c r e g i s t e r i n S e p t e m b e r o f 1 9 9 0 , w h i c h q u a l i f i e d i t f o r a $ 5 0 0 , 0 0 0 f a c e - l i f t u t i l i z i n g c i t y a n d s t a t e f u n d s . T h e c i t y d e s i g n a t i o n , p r o v i d e d m o r e p r o t e c t i o n t h a n a p l a c e o n t h e n a t i o n a l r e g i s t e r w o u l d a s a l l c h a n g e s to t h e b u i l d i n g w o u l d h a v e t o b e a p p r o v e d b y t h e c i t y a d m i n i s t r a t i o n . . T h e r e w a s a s t a t e g r a n t o f $ 2 3 8 , 0 0 0 p r o v i d e d f o r h i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n . . T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a m a t c h e d t h e s t a t e g r a n t w i t h a n a d d i t i o n a l $ 2 3 8 , 0 0 0 . . A N a t i o n a l E n d o w m e n t f o r t h e A r t s G r a n t o f $ 4 2 0 , 0 0 0 . . L o c a l s p o n s o r s o f t h e A r t s , c o r p o r a t i o n s a n d f o u n d a t i o n s p r o v i d e d a n a d d i t i o n a l $ 3 m i l l i o n . . D o n o r s w h o c o n t r i b u t e a t l e a s t $ 9 0 0 f o r e i t h e r t h e a t e r , w i l l w a r r a n t a t h e a t r e s e a t n a m e p l a q u e . . T h e S t a t e w o u l d b e c o n t r i b u t i n g a n a d d i t i o n a l $ 2 . 3 m i l l i o n to t h e p r o j e c t . T h e B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r d i s t r i c t C a p i t a l C a m p a i g n e x p e c t e d t h a t c o s t s w o u l d b e s h a r e d e q u a l l y b e t w e e n p u b l i c a n d p r i v a t e s e c t o r s . E a c h s e c t o r w o u l d c o n t r i b u t e $ 4 . 2 m i l l i o n , f o r a t o t a l o f $ 8 . 4 m i l l i o n . ^ • « r » i a . T - T a c o m a B r o a d w a y T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t . 3 . 2 . 4 L e s s o n s to b e L e a r n e d V a l u a b l e l e s s o n s m a y b e l e a r n e d f r o m t h e T a c o m a c a s e s t u d i e s . T a c o m a a p p e a r s to h a v e l e a r n e d m u c h d u e to t i m e a n d e x p e r i e n c e . T h e P a n t a g e s p r o j e c t w a s a t r i a l - b y - f i r e e x e r c i s e , a m a t e u r i s h l y h a n d l e d a n d t r o u b l e d b y m i s m a n a g e m e n t a n d e c o n o m i c p r o b l e m s . H o w e v e r , i t w a s a s t a r t a n d i t d i d s u r v i v e d u e to t h e d e t e r m i n a t i o n o f t h e c i t i z e n r y w h o t o o k p e r s o n a l r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r i t s s u r v i v a l , e v e n to t h e p o i n t o f p e r s o n a l l y u n d e r w r i t i n g l o a n s . W h a t i s a p p a r e n t f r o m t h e h i s t o r i c a l e v i d e n c e i s t h a t t h e c i t y a d m i n i s t r a t i o n w a s n o t a s c o m m i t t e d to t h e P a n t a g e s r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t a s i t m i g h t h a v e b e e n . T h e c i t i z e n r y h a d r e p e a t e d l y v o t e d a g a i n s t a b o n d i s s u e t h a t w o u l d h a v e p r o v i d e d c u l t u r a l f a c i l i t i e s . T h i s m a y h a v e i n d i c a t e d to t h e a d m i n i s t r a t i o n t h a t c u l t u r a l f a c i l i t i e s w e r e w a s n o t a h i g h p r i o r i t y to t h e i r c o n s t i t u e n c y . T h e T a c o m a D o m e w a s . B y t h e l a t e 1 9 8 0 s i n n e r - c i t y r e j u v e n a t i o n w a s b e i n g d i s c u s s e d a c r o s s N o r t h A m e r i c a . T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a w a s finally r e a d y t o t o t a l l y e n d o r s e t h e t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t d e v e l o p m e n t a s t h e k e y to b r i n g i n g T a c o m a r e s i d e n t s d o w n t o w n i n t h e e v e n i n g a n d o n w e e k - e n d s , a n d a s a n a t t r a c t i o n f o r t h e w h o l e p o p u l a t i o n o f P u g e t S o u n d / P i e r c e C o u n t y . A c o m p r e h e n s i v e p l a n t h a t e n t a i l s p u b l i c t r a n s p o r t f a c i l i t i e s , p u b l i c s a f e t y c o n s i d e r a t i o n s , a n d p e d e s t r i a n p l a z a d e v e l o p m e n t i s g i v e n t o p p r i o r i t y . T h e e n c o u r a g e m e n t o f a n " A n t i q u e R o w " p r o v i d e s a u s e f o r m a n y o f t h e d i s t r i c t ' s h i s t o r i c b u i l d i n g s a n d o f f e r s a n a l t e r n a t i v e a c t i v i t y f o r t h e a t r e g o e r s a n d t o u r i s t s . R e s t a u r a n t s a r e a c t i v e l y e n c o u r a g e d to r e l o c a t e i n t h e t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t a s fine d i n i n g a n d t h e a t r e - g o i n g a r e v i e w e d a s a n i n t e g r a t e d p a c k a g e . O n e m u s t n o t u n d e r e s t i m a t e t h e e n o r m o u s e c o n o m i c , a n d t h e r e f o r e p o l i t i c a l , c l o u t t h a t i s i n h e r e n t i n t h e T h e a t e r D i s t r i c t S t e e r i n g C o m m i t t e e c o m p o s e d o f a W e y e r h a e u s e r f a m i l y m e m b e r - G e o r g e H . W e y e r h a e u s e r , C E O r e p r e s e n t i n g t h e W e y e r h a e u s e r C o m p a n y a n d T r u s t e e o f t h e W e y e r h a e u s e r C o m p a n y F o u n d a t i o n ; W i l l i a m H o n e y s e t t o f t h e N e w s T r i b u n e P u b U s h i n g C o m p a n y , a n d W i U i a m P h i h p , C h a i r m a n a n d C E O o f P u g e t S o u n d B a n c o r p w h o s t a t e s i n t h e " B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r D i s t r i c t C a m p a i g n " i n f o r m a t i o n a l b r o c h u r e : W e o n t h e E x e c u t i v e C o u n c i l h a v e c o m m i t t e d o u r s e l v e s to b r i n g i n g a n e w l e v e l o f e n e r g y , f o c u s a n d c o o r d i n a t i o n to d o w n t o w n . W e c a r e d e e p l y a b o u t T a c o m a , a n d a r e p l e d g e d to a l o n g - t e r m t a s k o f m a k i n g a g r e a t c i t y . W i t h a l l o f y o u , w e p l a n to b e i n t h e a u d i e n c e o n O p e n i n g N i g h t , w h e n c u r t a i n s go u p s i m u l t a n e o u s l y i n t h e P a n t a g e s , t h e R i a l t o a n d t h e n e w B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r . I t w i l l t r u l y b e t h e b e g i n n i n g o f a s p a r k l i n g n e w e r a f o r T a c o m a a n d P i e r c e C o u n t y . O w n e r s h i p o f t h e n e w t h e a t r e f a c i l i t i e s i s v a r i e d . T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a i s t h e d e s i g n a t e d o w n e r o f t h e n e w B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r . T h e R i a l t o T h e a t e r i s c u r r e n t l y h e l d i n a p r i v a t e o p e r a t i n g f o u n d a t i o n f o r t h e p u b U c b e n e f i t . T h e P a n t a g e s C e n t r e , a p r i v a t e , n o n - p r o f i t c o r p o r a t i o n , w i l l m a n a g e t h e t h r e e t h e a t e r s t h r o u g h l e a s e a r r a n g e m e n t s ( T a c o m a 1 9 9 0 - 9 1 ) . T h e p r o j e c t e d o p e n i n g d a t e f o r t h e n e w p r o j e c t s i s F a l l o f 1 9 9 3 . 3.3 CASE STUDY: THE ORPHEUM THEATRE, VANCOUVER, B.C. 3 . 3 . 1 T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r i s s i t u a t e d o n t h e B u r r a r d I n l e t o f t h e F r a s e r R i v e r a n d w i t h i n t h e t h i r d l a r g e s t m e t r o p o h t a n a r e a i n C a n a d a , k n o w n a s t h e P a c i f i c F r a s e r R e g i o n . I t e n c o m p a s s e s 5 2 5 0 s q u a r e k i l o m e t r e s , a n d r e p r e s e n t s o n e h a l f o f t h e t o t a l p o p u l a t i o n o f t h e p r o v i n c e . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r h a s a p o p u l a t i o n o f a p p r o x i m a t e l y 4 6 0 , 0 0 0 a n d i s r e c o g n i z e d a s t h e c u l t u r a l c e n t r e o f t h e u r b a n i z e d r e g i o n o f 1.7 m i h i o n ( M c D o n a l d 1 9 8 1 ) . V a n c o u v e r w a s n a m e d f o r C a p t a i n G e o r g e V a n c o u v e r w h o c h a r t e d B u r r a r d I n l e t i n 1 7 9 2 f o r t h e R o y a l N a v y . " G a s s y " J a c k D e i g h t o n ' s s a l o o n w a s t h e first b u s i n e s s e s t a b l i s h m e n t a t w h a t i s n o w W a t e r a n d C a r r a l l S t r e e t s a n d i n 1 8 6 7 t h e o r i g i n a l t o w n s i t e o f V a n c o u v e r w a s e s t a b l i s h e d i n t h a t a r e a , n o w k n o w n a s G a s t o w n . A n e w t o w n s i t e w a s s u r v e y e d i n 1 8 7 0 a n d n a m e d G r a n v i l l e a f t e r t h e B r i t i s h C o l o n i a l S e c r e t a r y , E a r l G r a n v i l l e . W i t h t h e e x t e n s i o n o f t h e C a n a d i a n P a c i f i c R a i l w a y t o G r a n v i l l e , t h e t o w n s i t e w a s a s s u r e d a n d i n c o r p o r a t e d i n A p r i l o f 1 8 8 6 . D u e to t h e i n f l u x o f p e o p l e d u r i n g 1 8 8 6 a n d 1 8 9 2 t h e p o p u l a t i o n g r e w f r o m 5 , 0 0 0 to 1 5 , 0 0 0 . V a n c o u v e r w a s a s h i p p i n g a n d d i s t r i b u t i o n c e n t r e f o r t h e r e g i o n . A f t e r t h e m i d - 1 8 9 0 s V a n c o u v e r c h a n g e d f r o m b e i n g a n o u t w a r d l o o k i n g m a r i t i m e c o m m u n i t y c o n n e c t e d b y t h e P a c i f i c O c e a n to C a l i f o r n i a , G r e a t B r i t a i n a n d v a r i o u s p o i n t s o n t h e P a c i f i c R i m , i n t o a n i n w a r d l o o k i n g c o n t i n e n t a l c o m m u n i t y a s e n t r e p r e n e u r s e x t e n d e d i n v e s t m e n t s i n t o t h e p r o v i n c e . T h e c o m m u n i t y s u f f e r e d a s e v e r e d e p r e s s i o n i n 1 8 9 2 , b u t t h i s e n d e d i n 1 8 9 8 w i t h t h e K l o n d i k e g o l d r u s h . T h e b o o m c o n t i n u e d u n t i l t h e first w o r l d w a r b u t b e t w e e n 1 9 0 8 a n d 1 9 1 3 m o s t o f t h e c o m m e r c i a l g r o w t h w a s i n t h e E a s t e r n B u s i n e s s D i s t r i c t ( K a l m a n 1 9 7 4 ) . 3 . 3 . 2 T h e H i s t o r y o f T h e a t r e i n V a n c o u v e r T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r h a s h i s t o r i c a l l y b e e n t h e e n t e r t a i n m e n t c e n t r e f o r a l a r g e r e g i o n a n d a d i v e r s e p o p u l a t i o n . I n h g h t o f t h e " w i l d a n d w o o l l y " c i t i z e n r y a n d t h e r a t h e r t a w d r y r e p u t a t i o n o f t h e v a u d e v i l l e t h e a t r e t h a t a t t r a c t e d t h e m , t h e first O p e r a H o u s e w a s e s t a b l i s h e d o n t h e w e s t e r n e d g e o f C h i n a t o w n a r o u n d C a r r a l l S t r e e t , a l o n g w i t h t h e r e d l i g h t d i s t r i c t a n d t h e o p i u m f a c t o r i e s ( K a l m a n 1 9 7 4 ) . T h e O p e r a H o u s e n o l o n g e r e x i s t s , n o r do m a n y o t h e r h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s t h a t o n c e e n t e r t a i n e d t h o u s a n d s o f V a n c o u v e r i t e s . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r d o e s n o t h a v e a h i s t o r y o f s e n s i t i v i t y t o w a r d h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n a n d s h a r e s t h e r a t h e r u n s a v o r y r e p u t a t i o n o f t h e " w i l d w e s t , " p o p u l a t e d b y t r a n s i e n t s a n d o v e r l y e n t h u s i a s t i c e n t r e p r e n e u r s w h o a r e n o t i n t e r e s t e d i n " r o o t s . " V a n c o u v e r h a s d e m o l i s h e d m a n y b u i l d i n g s , a n d a l o n g w i t h t h e s e , m a n y h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s . G o n e i s t h e l u x u r i o u s S t r a n d T h e a t r e o n W e s t G e o r g i a . . . , T h e C i n e m a - I n t e r n a t i o n a l o n G r a n v i l l e ( t h e h i s t o r i c o l d L y r i c a n d t h e o r i g i n a l O r p h e u m v a u d e v i l l e h o u s e ) ; t h e m a g n i f i c e n t o l d O d e o n - H a s t i n g s ( f o r m e r l y t h e B e a c o n a n d t h e o r i g i n a l p l u s h P a n t a g e s ) r e d u c e d t o r u b b l e , to w i n d u p i g n o b l y a s a p a r k i n g l o t . . . T h e C o l o n i a l T h e a t r e o n G r a n v i l l e m e t t h e s a m e s a d f a t e , a s d i d t h e S t u d i o a n d t h e D o m i n i o n o n G r a n v i l l e , a n d t h e o l d o r n a t e R e x o n H a s t i n g s S t r e e t ( M e y e r s 1 9 9 2 ) . D u r i n g t h e 1 9 2 0 s V a n c o u v e r e x p e r i e n c e d a b u i l d i n g b o o m . I t w a s a d y n a m i c e c o n o m y i n d i c a t i n g a b r i g h t f u t u r e a n d A l e x a n d e r P a n t a g e s w a s o p t i m i s t i c a b o u t i n v e s t i n g i n V a n c o u v e r . V a n c o u v e r ' s " N e w " O r p h e u m T h e a t r e o p e n e d N o v e m b e r 7, 1 9 2 7 . T h e O r p h e u m w a s t h e 4 t h a n d l a s t t h e a t r e o f t h a t n a m e b u i l t i n V a n c o u v e r a n d t h e o n l y o n e b u i l t s p e c i f i c a l l y f o r t h e s h o w i n g o f m o v i e s a n d a l s o a b l e to p r o d u c e s t a g e s h o w s . . . . b e c a u s e t h e c o n s t a n t i n c r e a s e o f p a t r o n a g e w h i c h t h e O r p h e u m C i r c u i t i s e n j o y i n g i n t h i s c i t y m a k e s t h e a d d i t i o n a l s e a t i n g c a p a c i t y n o t o n l y n e c e s s a r y , b u t w i l l e n a b l e t h e O r p h e u m C i r c u i t t o g r e a t l y i m p r o v e t h e q u a l i t y o f t h e p r o g r a m m e s w h i c h w i l l s i g n a l i z e t h e o p e n i n g o f t h i s s p l e n d i d n e w t h e a t r e ( M c C a l l u m 1 9 8 4 , 4 ) . T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e w a s p a r t o f t h e O r p h e u m v a u d e v i l l e c h a i n o w n e d b y " A l e x a n d e r P a n t a g e s - S e a t t l e ' s G i f t t o V a u d e v i l l e " ( R o c h e s t e r 1 9 8 4 ) . P a n t a g e s , a G r e e k s a i l o r , j u m p e d s h i p i n P u g e t S o u n d i n 1 8 8 5 , w o r k e d i n S e a t t l e a n d S a n F r a n c i s c o a s a w a i t e r a n d m a d e h i s w a y t o t h e Y u k o n d u r i n g t h e g o l d r u s h . H i s f i r s t b u s i n e s s p a r t n e r w a s K l o n d i k e K a t e . T h e y o w n e d a n O p e r a H o u s e a n d b a r i n D a w s o n C i t y i n 1 8 9 9 . W i t h p r o f i t s f r o m t h e Y u k o n P a n t a g e s h e o p e n e d t h e f i r s t P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e i n S e a t t l e i n 1 9 1 5 a n d h e p r o v e d t o b e a n e n o r m o u s l y s u c c e s s f u l v a u d e v i l l e p r o m o t e r , m o v i e " m o g u l , " a n d b u s i n e s s m a n t h r o u g h o u t t h e " r o a r i n g t w e n t i e s . " A l e x a n d e r P a n t a g e s d i d n o t f i n a n c e t h e c o n s t r u c t i o n o f t h e O r p h e u m , h o w e v e r . T h e V a n c o u v e r e n t r e p r e n e u r J o s e p h F r a n c i s L a n g e r , w h o m a d e a f o r t u n e i n t h e c o n s t r u c t i o n b u s i n e s s i n E n g l a n d , f i n a n c e d a n d c o n s t r u c t e d t h e t h e a t r e a s p a r t o f h i s c h a i n o f t h e a t r e s . L a n g e r i n v e s t e d a p p r o x i m a t e l y $ 1 m i l l i o n t o b u i l d t h e t h e a t r e a n d t h e O r p h e u m C i r c u i t s i g n e d a 2 5 y e a r l e a s e ( M c C a l l u m 1 9 8 4 ) . T h e a r c h i t e c t f o r t h e b u i l d i n g w a s B . M a r c u s P r i t e c a o f S e a t t l e w h o d e s i g n e d 6 0 m a j o r t h e a t r e s a n d 1 6 0 m i n o r t h e a t r e s t h r o u g h o u t h i s c a r e e r . I n 1 9 1 7 P r i t e c a d e s i g n e d t h e V a n c o u v e r P a n t a g e s i n t h e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e d e s i g n . P r i t e c a a d a p t e d w h a t h a s b e e n d e s c r i b e d a s a " S p a n i s h R e n a i s s a n c e S t y l e " f o r V a n c o u v e r ' s N e w O r p h e u m T h e a t r e b u t i t i s a h o d g e - p o d g e o f d e s i g n e l e m e n t s , a s w e r e a l l o f t h e m o v i e a n d v a u d e v i l l e p a l a c e s ( M c C a l l u m 1 9 8 4 , 1 1 ) . • I X A N V I L L E S T . T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e B i h b o a r d ( 1 9 3 0 s ) , V a n c o u v e r . T h e V a n c o u v e r O r p h e u m w a s o n e o f t h e l a s t g r e a t m o v i e p a l a c e s b u i l t a n d i t w a s c o n s t r u c t e d w i t h e c o n o m y i n m i n d . A n a r r o w e n t r a n c e o n e x p e n s i v e G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t p r o p e r t y l e d i n t o t h e l o b b y t h a t w a s d e s i g n e d i n o r d e r t o g u i d e p a t r o n s o v e r t h e a l l e y t h a t s e p a r a t e d G r a n v i l l e a n d S e y m o u r S t r e e t s to t h e t h e a t r e a u d i t o r i u m w h i c h w a s b u i l t o n l e s s e x p e n s i v e p r o p e r t y o n S e y m o u r . T h e e l a b o r a t e i n t e r i o r s w e r e m o u l d e d o n a n e a r b y v a c a n t l o t a n d c o n s t r u c t e d l i k e a b i g j i g s a w p u z z l e - a p l a s t e r e g g s h e l l h u n g i n a c o n c r e t e a n d s t e e l b o x . A t d o u b l e t h e r e g u l a r w a g e , 8 0 0 m e n w o r k e d f o r 1 0 m o n t h s a r o u n d t h e c l o c k t o c o m p l e t e t h e t h e a t r e . T h e m a j o r e x t r a v a g a n c e w a s $ 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 w o r t h o f g o l d l e a f d e c o r a t i o n a n d s i l k w a l l p a n e l s ( M c C a l l u m 1 9 8 4 , 1 3 ) . T h e V a n c o u v e r O r p h e u m w a s b u i l t a t t h e e n d o f t h e g o l d e n e r a o f t h e a t r e . V a u d e v i l l e w a s d y i n g d u e to t h e p o p u l a r i t y o f f i l m a n d t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n o f t h e " t a l k i e s . " T h e s t o c k m a r k e t c r a s h o f 1 9 2 9 , t h e e c o n o m i c d e p r e s s i o n o f t h e 1 9 3 0 s , a n d t h e i n c r e a s i n g p o p u l a r i t y o f " f r e e " r a d i o e n t e r t a i n m e n t n o w f e a t u r i n g m a n y o f t h e p o p u l a r v a u d e v i l l e s t a r s , g r e a t l y a f f e c t e d t h e b o x o f f i c e r e c e i p t s . L a r g e c r o w d s i n a t t e n d a n c e e v e r y d a y w e r e r e q u i r e d i n o r d e r t o o p e r a t e t h e m a s s i v e , e x p e n s i v e , m u l t i - s t a f f e d m o v i e p a l a c e . L a n g e r l o s t t h e m a j o r i t y o f h i s f o r t u n e i n 1 9 2 9 a n d m o v e d b a c k t o E n g l a n d . T h e O r p h e u m l o s t $ 9 5 , 0 0 0 i n e a c h o f i t s f i r s t t w o y e a r s o f o p e r a t i o n a n d b y 1 9 3 0 i t w a s l o s i n g $ 1 1 6 , 0 0 0 . W h e n t h e O r p h e u m C i r c u i t c o l l a p s e d t h e K e i t h - O r p h e u m c i r c u i t t o o k o v e r t h e l e a s e b u t t h e y too w e r e o u t o f b u s i n e s s b y 1 9 3 1 . T h e n e x t o w n e r . F a m o u s P l a y e r s , c l o s e d t h e V a n c o u v e r S t r a n d , t h e i r i m p o r t a n t f i r s t - r u n h o u s e , a n d t r a n s f e r r e d t h e o r c h e s t r a to t h e O r p h e u m , w h e r e t h e y w e r e s h o w i n g d o u b l e a n d t r i p l e f e a t u r e s b y 1 9 3 3 t o p a y t h e b i l l s ( M c C a l l u m 1 9 8 4 , 2 4 ) . T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e , t h e G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t E n t r a n c e . I v a n A c k e r y w a s n a m e d m a n a g e r i n 1 9 3 5 a n d r e m a i n e d i n t h a t p o s i t i o n f o r 3 5 y e a r s . H e w a s t h e c o n s u m m a t e s h o w m a n a n d p u l l e d t h e t h e a t r e i n t o t h e b l a c k . A c k e r y c l e a r l y l o v e d t h e O r p h e u m . . . . s e l d o m a s a n y o n e k e p t a t h e a t r e o p e n a n d f u l l so m u c h o f t h e t i m e , o r a c c e s s i b l e to so m a n y c l a s s e s a n d i n t e r e s t s . A s a r e s u l t , t h e O r p h e u m c a m e t o m e a n a l l t h i n g s to a l l p e o p l e . . . . ' T h e r e w a s a l w a y s s o m e t h i n g g o i n g o n d o w n a t t h e O r p h e u m . Y o u w a n t e d to go d o w n t h e r e j u s t to s e e w h a t w a s h a p p e n i n g ' ( M c C a l l u m 1 9 8 4 , 2 7 ) . T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e e n t e r t a i n e d m i l l i o n s o f V a n c o u v e r m o v i e - g o e r s o v e r t h e y e a r s . G e n e r a t i o n s o f V a n c o u v e r i t e s w o r k e d o r p e r f o r m e d t h e r e ; t h e t h e a t r e h o s t e d v i s i t i n g r o y a l t y , p o H t i c i a n s a n d s t a r s o f s t a g e , s c r e e n a n d r a d i o . M o v i e s , m u s i c a l p r o d u c t i o n s , d r a m a , b a l l e t , s y m p h o n y , a n d o p e r a w e r e a l l a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e g r a n d o l d O r p h e u m . D u r i n g w a r t i m e i t w a s u s e d f o r t h e w a r e f f o r t . A c k e r y k e p t t h e O r p h e u m o p e n t h r o u g h t h e d e p r e s s i o n a n d t h r o u g h a n e r a t h a t e x p e r i e n c e d t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n o f t e l e v i s i o n . A c k e r y i s c r e d i t e d w i t h m a k i n g t h e O r p h e u m t h e c e n t r e o f a r t s i n V a n c o u v e r u n t i l t h e 1 9 7 0 s so t h a t w h e n t h e t i m e c a m e to s a v e t h e O r p h e u m , i t w a s a " p e r s o n a l " m a t t e r to m a n y V a n c o u v e r c i t i z e n s ( M c C a l l u m 1 9 8 4 , 4 ) . T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e , S e y m o u r S t r e e t e n t r a n c e . 3 . 3 . 3 C i v i c A c t i o n : O r p h e u m R e s t o r a t i o n P r o j e c t T h e o n e b r i g h t s p o t i n a r a t h e r d i s m a l l i t a n y o f l o s t h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s i s t h e c i v i c a c t i o n t h a t r e s u l t e d i n t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f V a n c o u v e r ' s l a s t m o v i e p a l a c e , t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e o n G r a n v i l l e M a l l i n t h e 1 9 7 0 s . T h e O r p h e u m s a g a b e g i n s i n a m a n n e r s i m i l a r t o m a n y o t h e r s u c c e s s f u l t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s - o n e w o m a n a c t i v i s t " s e i z e s t h e m o m e n t . " R h o n n a ( F l e m m i n g ) C u r t i s w a s o n e o f f o u r w o m e n w h o f o r m e d t h e H e r i t a g e C o m m i t t e e o f t h e V a n c o u v e r C o m m u n i t y A r t s C o u n c i l . B e c a u s e t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r h a d n o t d o c u m e n t e d t h e h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s i n t h e i n n e r c i t y , t h e w o m e n d e c i d e d t o s u r v e y t h e d o w n t o w n a n d c r e a t e a h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s i n v e n t o r y i n 1 9 7 3 . W h e n R h o n n a C u r t i s a p p r o a c h e d t h e m a n a g e m e n t o f t h e O r p h e u m , s h e w a s i n f o r m e d t h a t w i t h i n s i x w e e k s F a m o u s P l a y e r s w o u l d b e g i n to d i v i d e t h e t h e a t r e i n t o s e v e n s m a l l t h e a t r e s . T h e r e n o v a t i o n p e r m i t w a s i n p r o c e s s . R h o n n a i m m e d i a t e l y c o n t a c t e d C o u n c i l m a n F r i t z B o w e r s a n d a n e m e r g e n c y m e e t i n g w a s c a U e d . M e m b e r s f r o m t h e p l a n n i n g d e p a r t m e n t , t w o c o u n c i l m e m b e r s , a r e p r e s e n t a t i v e f r o m t h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y , a r e p r e s e n t a t i v e f r o m t h e m a n a g e m e n t o f t h e Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h T h e a t r e , a n d C o m m u n i t y A r t s C o u n c i l r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s a t t e n d e d t h e m e e t i n g . O f m a j o r i m p o r t a n c e w a s t h a t M a y o r A r t P h i l H p s w a s s y m p a t h e t i c to t h e i d e a o f s a v i n g t h e t h e a t r e f o r p u b l i c u s e i f i t a p p e a r e d t o m a k e " s e n s e . " W h a t w a s p a r t i c u l a r l y c r u c i a l a t t h e o u t s e t o f t h i s t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t w a s t h e " p o l i t i c a l w i l l " d e m o n s t r a t e d b y t h e m a j o r i t y o f C o u n c i l a n d M a y o r A r t P h i U i p s , w h o w e r e a s s o c i a t e d w i t h a p r o g r e s s i v e p o h t i c a l g r o u p k n o w n a s T E A M ( T h e E l e c t o r s ' A c t i o n M o v e m e n t ) . T o a s c e r t a i n i f t h e p r o p o s a l d i d m a k e s e n s e a c o m p r e h e n s i v e s t u d y n e e d e d to b e m a d e . C o u n c i l h a d to a p p r o v e , a n d F a m o u s P l a y e r s h a d t o a g r e e to c o o p e r a t e , a s t i m e w a s r e q u i r e d i n o r d e r t o c a r r y o u t t h e n e c e s s a r y r e s e a r c h ( C u r t i s 1 9 9 2 ) . T h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a , 1 9 2 1 . T h e i m p o r t a n t e l e m e n t s i n t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a r g u m e n t a r e - t h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t o f a n e e d f o r t h e b u i l d i n g w i t h i n t h e c o m m u n i t y a n d a c a r e f u l e x a m i n a t i o n o f t h e a d a p t a b i l i t y o f t h e e x i s t i n g b u i l d i n g t o t h e m o d e r n r e q u i r e m e n t s o f t h e c u l t u r a l a c t i v i t i e s t h a t w i l l u s e t h e s p a c e . T h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y h a d p l a y e d i n t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e b u t m o v e d to t h e n e w Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h T h e a t r e i n 1 9 5 9 . T h e a c o u s t i c s i n t h e Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h p r o v e d to b e i n a p p r o p r i a t e a n d i t w a s d e t e r m i n e d t h a t t h e S y m p h o n y n e e d e d a n e w h o m e . W h e n t h e f u t u r e o f t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e w a s d i s c u s s e d a t a C o u n c i l m e e t i n g , t h e A r t s C o m m u n i t y a t t e n d e d i n f u l l f o r c e . T h e F a m o u s P l a y e r s o r g a n i z a t i o n a g r e e d t o g i v e t h e C i t y t i m e to c o n s i d e r a p u r c h a s e o f f e r . T h e C o u n c i l a g r e e d to finance t h e r e q u i r e d f e a s i b i l i t y s t u d y . T h e C i t y h i r e d a c o u s t i c s s p e c i a l i s t s f r o m M a s s a c h u s e t t s a s p r i m a r y a c o u s t i c s c o n s u l t a n t s . W h e n a c o u s t i c s t e s t s p r o v e d to b e p o s i t i v e , t h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y S o c i e t y a n d t h e C o m m u n i t y A r t s C o u n c i l o f f i c i a l l y t o o k u p t h e c a u s e . R h o n n a ( F l e m i n g ) C u r t i s f o u n d i t d i f f i c u l t t o a c c e s s Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h b o o k i n g s t a t i s t i c s a s c e r t a i n v e s t e d i n t e r e s t s w e r e h o l d i n g o u t f o r a n e w s t r u c t u r e , b u t s h e " f o u n d a w a y to w o r k a r o u n d t h e r o a d b l o c k s " ( C u r t i s 1 9 9 2 ) . I t w a s s h o w n t h a t t h e r e w a s a n e e d f o r a s e c o n d v e n u e f o r a v a r i e t y o f c u l t u r a l p e r f o r m a n c e s . T h e O r p h e u m r e q u i r e d e x t e n s i v e s t r u c t u r a l e v a l u a t i o n s w i t h r e s p e c t to r e s t o r a t i o n a n d a d a p t a t i o n c o s t s . . . . i n S e p t e m b e r o f 1 9 7 3 a r e p o r t c o n t a i n i n g a l i s t o f r e c o m m e n d a t i o n s w a s p r e s e n t e d to C i t y C o u n c i l . I n e s s e n c e , t h e r e p o r t s h o w e d t h a t V a n c o u v e r w a s i n n e e d o f a s e c o n d t h e a t r e a n d c a l l e d f o r t h e C i t y to n e g o t i a t e t h e p u r c h a s e o f t h e O r p h e u m f r o m F a m o u s P l a y e r s T h e a t r e s . T h e r e c o m m e n d a t i o n w a s t h a t t h e O r p h e u m b e c o n v e r t e d t o a c o n c e r t h a l l f o r t h e S y m p h o n y a n d o t h e r g r o u p s n o t r e q u i r i n g t h e a t r i c a l s t a g i n g ( V a n c o u v e r , 1 9 7 7 ) . F r o m t h e o u t s e t o f t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s c o m m u n i t y c o n c e r n r e c e i v e d a s y m p a t h e t i c h e a r i n g f r o m t h e M a y o r a n d a m a j o r i t y o f C o u n c i l . O n D e c e m b e r 1 1 , 1 9 7 3 M a y o r P h i l l i p s , o n b e h a l f o f t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e C o m m i t t e e , s u b m i t t e d a r e p o r t to C o u n c i l . T h e r e p o r t s t a t e d t h a t F a m o u s P l a y e r s L t d . w a s e n t i t l e d to g u t t h e t h e a t r e u n d e r e x i s t i n g b y l a w s , h o w e v e r b e c a u s e o f s e n t i m e n t a l a t t a c h m e n t , h i s t o r i c i m p o r t a n c e a n d t h e a b i l i t y o f t h e t h e a t r e t o f u n c t i o n a s a v e n u e f o r l i v e p e r f o r m a n c e s , " t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e c o u l d b e s a v e d . " T h e r e p o r t a l s o s t a t e d t h a t t h e r e w a s a n e e d f o r t h e f a c i l i t y , t h e a c o u s t i c s w e r e " . . . s i g n i f i c a n t l y b e t t e r t h a n t h o s e o f t h e Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h T h e a t r e . T h e r e i s n o q u e s t i o n t h a t t h e t h e a t r i c a l f e e l i n g i n t h e O r p h e u m i s o u t s t a n d i n g . A n e v e n t i n t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e i s r e a l l y a n e v e n t " ( P h i l l i p s 1 9 7 3 ) . T h e r e p o r t a l s o o u t l i n e d t h e p u r c h a s e o p t i o n t h a t F a m o u s P l a y e r s h a d o f f e r e d w h i c h i n c l u d e d a f r e e o p t i o n t o b u y o p e n u n t i l F e b r u a r y 1 5 , 1 9 7 4 . T h e t o t a l c o s t w a s $ 3 . 9 m i l l i o n , p a y a b l e o v e r t h r e e y e a r s w i t h n o i n t e r e s t . T h e C i t y w o u l d t a k e p o s s e s s i o n i n J u l y o f 1 9 7 5 a n d u n t i l t h e n t h e O r p h e u m w o u l d o p e r a t e a s a m o v i e t h e a t r e . T h e C o m m u n i t y A r t s C o u n c i l r e p o r t e d t h a t a c o m p l e t e r e n o v a t i o n w o u l d c o s t a p p r o x i m a t e l y $ 2 m i l h o n , b r i n g i n g t h e t o t a l c o s t to $ 5 . 9 m i l l i o n p a y a b l e o v e r t h r e e c a l e n d a r y e a r s . T h e l a n d v a l u e o f t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e w a s e s t i m a t e d to b e a p p r o x i m a t e l y $ 2 . 2 m i l l i o n . C o u n c i l h o p e d to finance t h e p r o j e c t i n t h e f o l l o w i n g m a n n e r : . $ 1 m i l l i o n f r o m t h e P r o v i n c e . $ 1 m i l h o n f r o m t h e F e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t . $ 1 m i l l i o n f r o m t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r . $ 1 m i l h o n f r o m p r i v a t e d o n a t i o n s {Province, 3 J a n u a r y 1 9 7 4 ) . T h e r e p o r t s t r e s s e d t h a t t h e Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h T h e a t r e c o s t $ 5 m i l l i o n i n 1 9 5 8 a n d w o u l d c o s t $ 1 5 m i l l i o n to r e p l a c e . M a y o r P h i l l i p s h a d b e e n i n t o u c h w i t h P r e m i e r B a r r e t t , P r i m e M i n i s t e r T r u d e a u a n d U r b a n A f f a i r s M i n i s t e r B a s f o r d . W h i l e t h e y a p p e a r e d r e c e p t i v e , n o c o m m i t m e n t s h a d b e e n m a d e . T h e r e c o m m e n d a t i o n w a s t h a t t h e C i t y a c c e p t t h e o f f e r a n d i m m e d i a t e l y b e g i n to c a n v a s s b o t h l e v e l s o f g o v e r n m e n t a s w e l l a s t h e p u b l i c t o a s c e r t a i n p u b l i c s u p p o r t . T h e C o m m i t t e e w a s to r e p o r t b a c k i n e a r l y F e b r u a r y o f 1 9 7 4 f o r a d e c i s i o n w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e o f f e r t o p u r c h a s e . A l d e r m a n F r i t z B o w e r s m o v e d to a c c e p t t h e r e c o m m e n d a t i o n o f t h e S p e c i a l C o m m i t t e e a n d t h i s w a s c a r r i e d b y a m a j o r i t y o f C o u n c i l ( V a n c o u v e r , 1 1 D e c e m b e r 1 9 7 3 ) . A n i n f o r m a l m e e t i n g o f t h e C i t i z e n ' s C o m m i t t e e t o S a v e t h e O r p h e u m w a s h e l d i n t h e M a y o r ' s O f f i c e , 2 0 D e c e m b e r , 1 9 7 3 . M a y o r P h i l h p s w a s m a d e t h e " H o n o r a r y C h a i r m a n " b e c a u s e o f t h e s t a t u r e o f t h e M a y o r ' s O f f i c e . A l e t t e r - w r i t i n g l o b b y w a s t o b e i n i t i a t e d . A r r a n g e m e n t s f o r i n c o m e - t a x d e d u c t i o n s f o r d o n a t i o n s w a s m a d e . I n J a n u a r y 1 9 7 4 a C h a i r m a n o f t h e " S a v e T h e O r p h e u m C o m m i t t e e " a n d a p u b l i c i t y a g e n t w e r e s e l e c t e d . T h e t i m e b e f o r e t h e F e b r u a r y d e a d l i n e w a s to b e d e v o t e d to o r g a n i z i n g f o r m a j o r c o r p o r a t e f u n d - r a i s i n g a n d a r e p o r t w o u l d b e m a d e " . . . w i t h a s s u r a n c e s f r o m e x p e r t s o n w h a t s u m s c a n b e e x p e c t e d w i t h i n w h a t p e r i o d s , a n d t h e o r g a n i z a t i o n o f a s c h e d u l e o f p u b l i c e v e n t s , w i t h o r g a n i z e r s f o r t h e m , a n d e s t i m a t e s o n w h a t f u n d s t h e y m i g h t r a i s e " ( B o w e r s 1 9 7 4 , 7 J a n u a r y ) . T h e c h a l l e n g e w a s to r a i s e $ 1 m i l l i o n i n c a p i t a l f u n d s f r o m t h e c o m m u n i t y . B y e a r l y F e b r u a r y a d e a l h a d b e e n s t r u c k w i t h F a m o u s P l a y e r s L t d . F a m o u s P l a y e r s a g r e e d t o d e v e l o p a m u l t i p l e x t h e a t r e o n t h e o l d C a p i t o l T h e a t r e s i t e i n s t e a d o f t h e O r p h e u m s i t e . F a m o u s P l a y e r s w a s i n s i s t e n t t h a t t h e C i t y s h o u l d t i e i n t h e d a t e o f a c q u i r i n g t h e O r p h e u m t o t h e d a t e o f t h e i r r e c e i v i n g t h e d e v e l o p m e n t p e r m i t a n d , w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e r e s t r i c t i v e c o v e n a n t p r o h i b i t i n g t h e s h o w i n g o f m o t i o n p i c t u r e s i n t h e O r p h e u m , i t w a s a g r e e d t h a t t h i s w o u l d n o t a p p l y to b e n e f i t p e r f o r m a n c e s a n d " t h a t m o v i e s c o u l d b e s h o w n i f i n t h e o p i n i o n o f ( t h e l o c a l r e p r e s e n t a t i v e ) o f F a m o u s P l a y e r s , t h e y w e r e n o t o f a c o m p e t i n g n a t u r e " M r . B o w e r s , C o u n c i l m a n a n d C h a i r m a n o f C i t y C o u n c i l ' s a d h o c O r p h e u m C o m m i t t e e , w e n t o n to s t a t e i n h i s l e t t e r t o D a v i d M o o n e y o f F a m o u s P l a y e r s L t d . : I w o u l d l i k e to t a k e t h i s o p p o r t u n i t y to t h a n k F a m o u s P l a y e r s f o r t h e h e l p f u l s p i r i t i n w h i c h o u r n e g o t i a t i o n s w e r e c o n d u c t e d . . . . W e h a v e t h e p o w e r s o f e x p r o p r i a t i o n , a n d I a m s u r e w o u l d h a v e u s e d t h e m f o r t h i s p u r p o s e , s i n c e t h e c i t i z e n s o f V a n c o u v e r h a v e b e e n a l m o s t u n a n i m o u s i n t h e i r d e s i r e t o p r e s e r v e t h i s l i n k w i t h t h e i r p a s t . I n s u c h a n e x p r o p r i a t i o n , w e w o u l d h a v e h a d to p a y y o u v i r t u a l l y t h e s a m e a m o u n t i n d a m a g e s a s o u t a g r e e d - u p o n p u r c h a s e p r i c e . O n b e h a l f o f C i t y C o u n c i l , I w o u l d t h e r e f o r e h k e to t h a n k y o u f o r s p a r i n g u s t h e h a s s l e , t h e d e l a y s a n d t h e l e g a l c o s t s i n v o l v e d i n e x p r o p r i a t i o n ( B o w e r s , 7 F e b r u a r y 1 9 7 4 ) . I n a n a t t e m p t t o d e t e r m i n e t h e p u b l i c a c c e p t a n c e o f t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r ' s p r o p o s a l to p u r c h a s e t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e f o r u s e a s a c o n c e r t h a l l a n d to d e t e r m i n e t h e m o s t f a v o u r a b l e m e t h o d f o r r a i s i n g f u n d to p u r c h a s e t h e t h e a t r e , a t e l e p h o n e s u r v e y w a s c o n d u c t e d o n S a t u r d a y 1 6 F e b r u a r y 1 9 7 4 . T h e s u r v e y f i n d i n g s i n d i c a t e d t h a t a m a j o r i t y o f p e o p l e w e r e i n f a v o u r o f t h e p r o p o s a l to p u r c h a s e t h e O r p h e u m a n d t h e r e s p o n d e n t s f a v o u r e d a p u b l i c l o t t e r y a n d p r i v a t e d o n a t i o n s a s a m e a n s o f f u n d r a i s i n g ( O s b o u r n e 1 9 7 4 ) . T h e S p e c i a l C o m m i t t e e R e p o r t to C o u n c i l o f 1 8 F e b r u a r y 1 9 7 4 c o n c e r n i n g t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e f o u n d t h a t t h e r e w a s a n e e d f o r t h e O r p h e u m a s t h e Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h w a s b o o k e d to c a p a c i t y . T h e O r p h e u m p r o v e d to b e s u i t a b l e e x c e p t f o r t h e l o b b y s p a c e a n d s l i g h t l y l e s s s p a c i o u s n e s s w i t h r e s p e c t to s e a t i n g . V a n c o u v e r i t e s h a d i n d i c a t e d t h e i r d e s i r e f o r r e t e n t i o n - b y 15 F e b r u a r y , o v e r 8 , 0 0 0 i n d i v i d u a l l e t t e r s h a d b e e n r e c e i v e d b y t h e C i t y C l e r k o r t h e M a y o r ' s o f f i c e i n s u p p o r t o f p r o j e c t . " A n o t e w o r t h y t h r e a d t h r o u g h o u t m a n y l e t t e r s w a s a d e s i r e t o r e t a i n t h e a t m o s p h e r e a n d o r n a t e d e c o r o f t h e i n t e r i o r a n d n o t e n g a g e i n e x t e n s i v e a l t e r a t i o n s t h a t w o u l d d e s t r o y t h e s e . " I t w a s a l s o r e c o m m e n d e d t h a t t h e Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h a n d t h e O r p h e u m b e p l a c e d u n d e r o n e m a n a g e m e n t . F u n d r a i s i n g w a s t o t a k e t h e f o r m o f - a i d f r o m t h e F e d e r a l a n d P r o v i n c i a l G o v e r n m e n t s , c i t y r e v e n u e s , a l o t t e r y s a n c t i o n e d b y t h e A t t o r n e y - G e n e r a l , p r i v a t e f u n d - r a i s i n g d r i v e t h a t w o u l d a p p r o a c h f o u n d a t i o n s , c o r p o r a t e d o n o r s , i n d i v i d u a l s , b e n e f i t c o n c e r t s a n d o t h e r s p e c i a l e v e n t s . T h e c o s t o f t h e O r p h e u m w o u l d b e p a i d to F a m o u s P l a y e r s o v e r t h r e e y e a r s : I n J u l y , 1 9 7 4 - 1.0 m i l l i o n , J u l y o f 197-5 - 1.5 m i l l i o n a n d i n J a n u a r y o f 1 9 7 6 - 1.4 m i l l i o n . " T h e s u m o f $ 9 0 0 , 0 0 0 w a s to b e p l a c e d i n t h e 1 9 7 4 S u p p l e m e n t a l C a p i t a l B u d g e t t o w a r d s t h e c o s t o f p u r c h a s e ; t h a t t h e f o l l o w i n g f u n d s b e d e s i g n a t e d a s b a c k - u p f o r t h e r e m a i n i n g $ 3 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 - 1 9 7 3 O p e r a t i n g B u d g e t S u r p l u s - $ 2 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 a n d S u r p l u s P r o p e r t y S a l e s R e s e r v e - $ 1 , 0 0 0 , 0 0 0 - s u c h f u n d s to b e r e - i m b u r s e d b y d o n a t i o n s , g r a n t s f r o m S e n i o r G o v e r n m e n t s a n d f u t u r e S u p p l e m e n t a l C a p i t a l b u d g e t s ( V a n c o u v e r , 1 8 F e b r u a r y 1 9 7 4 ) . T h e r e c o m m e n d a t i o n s w e r e a c c e p t e d b y a r e s o l u t i o n o f C o u n c i l o n 1 9 F e b r u a r y 1 9 7 4 . T h r o u g h o u t M a r c h M a y o r P h i l h p s , A l d e r m e n B o w e r s , H a r c o u r t a n d M a s s e y m e t w i t h M . L . A . ' s , t h e A t t o r n e y - G e n e r a l , t h e D e p u t y to t h e S e c r e t a r y o f S t a t e , t h e M i n i s t e r o f t h e E n v i r o n m e n t , J a c k D a v i s , a n d H u g h F a u l k n e r , t h e S e c r e t a r y o f S t a t e , i n O t t a w a o n M a r c h 8. T h e r e w e r e c o u n t l e s s p h o n e c a l l s m a d e t o F e d e r a l a n d P r o v i n c i a l p o H t i c i a n s . T h e F e d e r a l G o v e r n m e n t a n n o u n c e d o n M a r c h 15 a g r a n t o f $ 1 m i l l i o n t o w a r d s t h e p u r c h a s e o f t h e t h e a t r e o n c o n d i t i o n t h a t i t b e u s e d a s a h o m e f o r t h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a . I n a d d i t i o n , t h e y a g r e e d to c o n t r i b u t e $ 1 m i l l i o n t o w a r d s t h e r e n o v a t i o n c o s t s o v e r t w o to t h r e e y e a r s . T h e P r o v i n c i a l G o v e r n m e n t w a s n o t a b l e to m a k e a firm c o m m i t m e n t . I n d i v i d u a l l y v i r t u a l l y a l l m e m b e r s o f t h e C a b i n e t a n d t h e V a n c o u v e r M . L . A . ' s e x p r e s s e d s y m p a t h y t o w a r d s t h e p r o j e c t , a n d t h e C o m m i t t e e e x p e c t e d s u b s t a n t i a l c o n t r i b u t i o n f r o m t h e P r o v i n c i a l G o v e r n m e n t ( V a n c o u v e r , 1 5 M a r c h 1 9 7 4 ) . 3 . 3 . 4 P a n i c a t t h e O r p h e u m V a n c o u v e r i t e s r e a d i n g t h e l o c a l p r e s s w e r e w e U a w a r e o f t h e t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s a n d t h e a p p a r e n t w e l l - o r g a n i z e d a p p r o a c h a d o p t e d b y t h e A d m i n i s t r a t i o n . H o w e v e r , o n e w o u l d h a v e to b e o n t h e i n s i d e t o b e c o g n i z a n t o f t h e c h a o s a n d c o m p l e x i t y i n h e r e n t i n a n y r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t . T h e V a n c o u v e r O r p h e u m T h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t w a s n o t u n u s u a l i n t h i s r e s p e c t . I n a c o n f i d e n t i a l m e m o to M a y o r A r t P h i l l i p s R e : P A N I C A T T H E O R P H E U M , F r i t z B o w e r s o u t l i n e s a s e r i o u s p r o b l e m w i t h t i c k e t s a l e s f o r t h e b e n e f i t c o n c e r t f e a t u r i n g J a c k B e n n y to b e h e l d o n A p r i l 6 , 1 9 7 4 . O n l y 6 0 0 t i c k e t s w e r e s o l d o u t o f a p o s s i b l e 2 , 7 9 4 . T h e p u b l i c i t y a n d p u b l i c r e l a t i o n s so n e c e s s a r y to t h e s u c c e s s o f f u n d - r a i s i n g e f f o r t s h a d n u m e r o u s p r o b l e m s - n o t e n o u g h n e w s p a p e r c o v e r a g e , l a c k o f e n t h u s i a s m i n t h e m e d i a , a d s t o o e x p e n s i v e a n d u n i n f o r m a t i v e , t h e d i r e c t m a i l i n v i t a t i o n c a m p a i g n m a t e r i a l s p o o r l y d e s i g n e d . T h e C o m m i t t e e w a s c o n s i d e r i n g a m a s s i v e t i c k e t g i v e - a w a y - t i c k e t s p a i d f o r w i t h d o n a t i o n m o n e y - i n o r d e r t o fill t h e t h e a t r e . B o w e r s c l o s e s w i t h a P . S . " N e x t t i m e , w e ' l l j u s t r a i s e t h e m i l l r a t e : m u c h l e s s f u s s " ( B o w e r s , 2 8 M a r c h 1 9 7 4 ) . O n l y $ 4 , 0 0 0 i n d o n a t i o n s w e r e r e c e i v e d i n p r i v a t e d o n a t i o n s {Vancouver Sun, 1 1 F e b r u a r y 1 9 7 4 ) . T h e r e w e r e n u m e r o u s c o n c e r n s r e g a r d i n g financial p r o c e d u r e s , a u t h o r i t y a n d c o n t r o l s . A n o r g a n i z a t i o n a l c h a r t w a s e s t a b l i s h e d i n A p r i l o f 1 9 7 4 to f a c i l i t a t e a b e t t e r u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t h e a d m i n i s t r a t i v e p r o c e s s . C o n s i d e r a t i o n o f t h e n e e d s o f t h e p o t e n t i a l u s e r s o f t h e r e s t o r e d s p a c e m u s t b e c o n s i d e r e d to b e a t o p p r i o r i t y . T h e a d m i n i s t r a t o r s o f t h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a w e r e v e r y c o n c e r n e d a b o u t t h e r e n o v a t i o n p r o g r a m m e a s t h e y w e r e t h e k e y to t h e s u c c e s s o f t h e O r p h e u m p r o j e c t . A l i s t o f i t e m s w a s d r a w n u p w i t h r e s p e c t t o a c o u s t i c a l a n d s o u n d p r e r e q u i s i t e s , s t a g e r e q u i r e m e n t s , d r e s s i n g r o o m s , r e h e a r s a l s p a c e , a n d a u d i e n c e a m e n i t i e s t h a t t h e y b e l i e v e d t o b e a b s o l u t e l y n e c e s s a r y O n e o f t h e m a i n c o n c e r n s w a s t h e i n a d e q u a c y o f l o b b y s p a c e a n d r e v e n u e g e n e r a t i n g r e f r e s h m e n t a r e a s w i t h i n t h e t h e a t r e . T h e d o c u m e n t w a s c o p i e d t o a l l l e v e l s w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e g r a n t i n g a u t h o r i t y . W e h a v e m o r e s u b s c r i p t i o n s t h a n a n y o t h e r s y m p h o n y i n N o r t h A m e r i c a . . . . T h e r e m u s t be r e c o g n i t i o n b y a l l c o n c e r n e d t h a t i t i s n o t e n o u g h to " S a v e t h e O r p h e u m . " I t m u s t b e r e - a n i m a t e d , i n f u s e d w i t h a n e w l i f e , a n d r e - c r e a t e d a s a f u l l y a d e q u a t e a n d s u i t a b l e h o m e f o r t h e m o s t s u c c e s s f u l a n d h i g h - m o m e n t u m m u s i c a l o r g a n i z a t i o n i n C a n a d a ( N e l s o n , 1 8 J u n e 1 9 7 4 ) . T h e c o s t s o f r e n o v a t i o n w e r e c o n s o l i d a t e d b y D e c e m b e r o f 1 9 7 4 t h r o u g h c o m p r e h e n s i v e i n s p e c t i o n s o f t h e b u i l d i n g f o r n e c e s s a r y s e r v i c e u p g r a d e s ; t h e c o n s u l t a n t s a n d a r c h i t e c t b r o u g h t t o g e t h e r final c o s t s a d j u s t e d f o r i n f l a t i o n to 1 9 7 6 . T o t a l r e n o v a t i o n c o s t s w e r e e s t i m a t e d t o b e $ 3 . 2 m i l l i o n i n 1 9 7 6 . G r a n t s f r o m t h e F e d e r a l a n d P r o v i n c i a l g o v e r n m e n t s t o g e t h e r w i t h $ 1 m i l l i o n f r o m t h e V a n c o u v e r F o u n d a t i o n a n d t h e l o t t e r y p r o f i t s o f $ 3 2 5 , 0 0 0 e q u a l e d t h e e s t i m a t e d r e n o v a t i o n c o s t s . P r i v a t e d o n a t i o n s w e r e n o t o f a s i g n i f i c a n t a m o u n t to w a r r a n t i n d i v i d u a l i t e m i z a t i o n a l t h o u g h C o u n c i l i n i t i a l l y h o p e d t o r a i s e $ 1 m i l l i o n f r o m p u b h c c o n t r i b u t i o n s ( L e c k i e , 2 J a n u a r y 1 9 7 5 ) . I t i s a p p a r e n t t h a t w h e n i n d i v i d u a l g e n e r o s i t y w a s n o t f o r t h c o m i n g , t h e V a n c o u v e r F o u n d a t i o n w a s a p p r o a c h e d . T h e V a n c o u v e r F o u n d a t i o n i s t h e fifth l a r g e s t i n N o r t h A m e r i c a a n d h a s a n c a p i t a l e n d o w m e n t f u n d o f $ 2 8 4 m i l l i o n . T h e f o u n d a t i o n c o n t r i b u t e s , b y w a y o f a d v i s o r y c o m m i t t e e s , t o c h i l d w e l f a r e , e d u c a t i o n , y o u t h , a r t s a n d c u l t u r e , h e a l t h a n d w e l f a r e , e n v i r o n m e n t , a n d m e d i c a l r e s e a r c h ( V a n c o u v e r F o u n d a t i o n , 1 9 9 0 ) . T h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a a d m i n i s t r a t i o n w a s u n h a p p y w i t h t h e p r o g r e s s w i t h r e s p e c t t o a d e q u a t e l o b b y s p a c e a n d p r e s s e d t h e C i t y to p u r c h a s e t h e a d j o i n i n g l o t o n S m i t h e S t r e e t i n o r d e r t o e x p a n d t h e t h e a t r e l o b b y . T h e C i t y a g r e e d to t h i s . T h e F e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t w a s r e l u c t a n t t o f o r w a r d g r a n t m o n i e s w i t h o u t l e g a l g u a r a n t e e s t h a t t h e C i t y w o u l d n o t d i s p o s e o f t h e p r o p e r t y , l e g a l g u a r a n t e e s t h a t t h e C i t y w o u l d t a k e p o s s e s s i o n o f t h e p r o p e r t y a n d t h a t t h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a w o u l d h a v e p r e f e r e n t i a l t r e a t m e n t w i t h r e s p e c t t o b o o k i n g s a n d r e h e a r s a l t i m e ( R a y n e r , 1 8 S e p t e m b e r 1 9 7 5 ) . T h e C i t y t o o k p o s s e s s i o n o f t h e t h e a t r e 2 7 N o v e m b e r 1 9 7 5 a n d t h e t h e a t r e w a s c l o s e d f o r r e n o v a t i o n s . T h e o p e n i n g d a t e w a s t e n t a t i v e l y s e t f o r J a n u a r y 1, 1 9 7 7 . R e n o v a t i o n s i n c l u d e d : . t h e i n s t a l l a t i o n o f a n a c o u s t i c a l s h e l l w i t h a f l o o r a b o v e f o r r e h e a r s a l a n d s t o r a g e p u r p o s e s ; . t h e e x t e n s i o n o f t h e s t a g e ; . i m p o r t a t i o n o f I t a h a n - t r a i n e d c r a f t s m e n t o c r e a t e n e w m o l d s f r o m e x i s t i n g p i l l a r s a n d o t h e r e l e m e n t s i n o r d e r to r e c o p y t h e m ; . r e p a i n t e d w a l l s a n d c e i l i n g s , g o l d f o i l u s e d to r e p l a c e g o l d l e a f ; . r e - u p h o l s t e r i n g o f 2 , 7 9 4 s e a t s a n d 3 , 0 0 0 y a r d s o f n e w c a r p e t ; . p a i n t i n g o f a m u r a l f o r t h e d o m e b y t h e o r i g i n a l d e c o r a t o r , T o n y H e i n s b e r g e n ; a n d . r e s t o r a t i o n o f t h e o r i g i n a l W u r l i t z e r b y v o l u n t e e r s f r o m t h e A m e r i c a n T h e a t r e O r g a n S o c i e t y . T h e O r p h e u m w a s o f f i c i a l l y o p e n e d o n A p r i l 2 , 1 9 7 7 w i t h a p r o d u c t i o n b y t h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y . T h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s i s a n o n - g o i n g p r o c e s s a n d v i g i l a n c e i s c o n s t a n t l y r e q u i r e d i f t h e r e i s n o t a r e c o g n i z e d h e r i t a g e d e s i g n a t i o n i n p l a c e . T h e C i t y a c q u i r e d t h e a d j o i n i n g l o t a n d e n l a r g e d t h e S m i t h e S t r e e t l o b b y f r o m 1 0 , 0 0 0 s q . f t . to 1 5 , 0 0 0 s q . f t . w i t h t h e a i d o f m o n e y d o n a t e d b y t h e W e s t c o a s t T r a n s m i s s i o n C o m p a n y . T h e l o b b y a d d i t i o n o p e n e d i n t h e s u m m e r o f 1 9 8 3 . A l s o , a t t h i s t i m e t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e w a s n a m e d a N a t i o n a l H i s t o r i c S i t e p r o t e c t i n g t h e s t r u c t u r e a t t h e F e d e r a l l e v e l s h o u l d a n i n s e n s i t i v e l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t p r e v a i l s o m e t i m e i n t h e f u t u r e ( M c C a l l u m 1 9 8 4 , 3 9 ) . T h e r e w a s c o n t r o v e r s y c o n c e r n i n g t h e O r p h e u m s i g n w h i c h w a s i n d i s r e p a i r a n d w o u l d h a v e b e e n a u c t i o n e d o f f i n 1 9 8 2 h a d n o t B i l l P a t t i s o n , a l o c a l b u s i n e s s m a n , s t e p p e d i n to s a v e i t . T h e c i v i c a d m i n i s t r a t i o n a n d t h e c i t i z e n s o f V a n c o u v e r p r o v e d t h a t i t i s p o s s i b l e to s a v e h i s t o r i c b u i l d i n g s i f t h e w i l l i s t h e r e - b u t i t i s n o t e a s y . T h e V a n c o u v e r O r p h e u m T h e a t r e c a s e s t u d y i s a n e x a m p l e o f a v e r y s u c c e s s f u l r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t . F r o m a n e c o n o m i c s t a n d p o i n t , a n i n i t i a l i n v e s t m e n t o f $ 7 m i l l i o n p r o v i d e d t h e c i t i z e n r y w i t h a f a c i l i t y t h a t w o u l d c o s t t h r e e t i m e s t h a t a m o u n t to r e p l i c a t e . T h e t h e a t r e p r o v i d e s a l o v e l y v e n u e a n d h o m e f o r t h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y a n d m a n y o t h e r p r o d u c t i o n s t h r o u g h o u t t h e y e a r . T h e t h e a t r e r e q u i r e s n o s u b s i d i e s f r o m t h e C i t y a n d i n t h e 1 9 9 1 c a l e n d e r y e a r w a s u s e d 2 0 0 d a y s a n d e n t e r t a i n e d 3 4 4 , 8 6 0 p e o p l e . F r o m t h e p o i n t o f v i e w o f t h e m a r k e t i n g a n d p u b l i c r e l a t i o n s m a n a g e r , t h e t h e a t r e i s v e r y s u c c e s s f u l ( K o r o p a t n i c k 1 9 9 2 ) . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r h a s r e t a i n e d a n i m p o r t a n t p a r t o f i t s p a s t f o r t h e e n j o y m e n t o f f u t u r e r e s i d e n t s a n d v i s i t o r s to t h e C i t y . T h e O r p h e u m r e t a i n s t h e i m p o r t a n t c o n t i n u i t y o f b e i n g a " c i v i c t h e a t r e " w h e r e a l l o f t h e c i t i z e n s c o m e t o g e t h e r . R e c e n t l y a s i l e n t f i l m s e r i e s w a s p r e s e n t e d a t t h e O r p h e u m a c c o m p a n i e d b y t h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y a n d t h e h i s t o r i c W u r l i t z e r . T h e W u r l i t z e r w a s p l a y e d b y a n i n t e r n a t i o n a l l y k n o w n o r g a n i s t w h o p l a y s f o r s i l e n t f i l m r e t r o s p e c t i v e s m o u n t e d i n m a n y o f t h e r e s t o r e d h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s t h r o u g h o u t t h e w o r l d . I t i s f a s c i n a t i n g t o b e t a k e n b a c k i n t i m e , to d i s c o v e r t h e t r u e c h a r a c t e r o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e a s i t w a s m e a n t t o b e e n j o y e d . I t w a s p a c k e d w i t h p e o p l e o f a l l a g e s , a l l " e x p e r i e n c i n g " a n e v e n t a s c l o s e t o t h e " r e a l t h i n g " a s i s p o s s i b l e . I t w a s a m a g i c e v e n i n g . O n e i s i n s p i r e d t o h o l d i m m e n s e g r a t i t u d e a n d r e s p e c t f o r t h e i n d i v i d u a l s o r g r o u p s w h o c h o o s e to h e l p p r o p e l a m o v e m e n t t h a t s a v e s a b u i l d i n g so s i g n i f i c a n t to o u r u r b a n c u l t u r e . 3.4 THE VOGUE THEATRE T h e t a t t e r e d s i g n o n G r a n v i l l e M a l l m a r k i n g t h e V o g u e T h e a t r e i s a s a d r e m i n d e r o f t h e g l a m o u r a n d g U t t e r o f t h e G r a n v i l l e T h e a t r e d i s t r i c t d u r i n g t h e 1 9 3 0 s a n d 1 9 4 0 s . T h e s i g n i s c r o w n e d b y t h e f i g u r e o f D i a n a , g o d d e s s o f c h a s t i t y , f e r t i l i t y a n d t h e h u n t . " T h e a t r e r o w w i t h a l l t h e n e o n l i g h t s a f t e r t h e w a r w a s l i k e a g r e a t w e d d i n g , a n d t h e V o g u e w a s t h e m o s t b e a u t i f u l o f a l l w i t h i t s g o d d e s s " (Province, 1 1 O c t 1 9 8 1 ) . V a n c o u v e r b u s i n e s s m a n H a r r y R e i f e l b u i l t t h e t h e a t r e i n 1 9 3 7 to a c c o m m o d a t e H v e p e r f o r m a n c e s . T h e t h e a t r e m i s s e d t h e g r e a t d a y s o f v a u d e v i l l e a n d a l s o h a d d e s i g n p r o b l e m s i n t h a t t h e w i n g s a n d s t a g e w e r e too s h a l l o w . T h e V o g u e w a s l e a s e d b y t h e O d e o n c h a i n i n 1 9 4 1 a n d w a s m a d e t h e i r f l a g s h i p m o v i e t h e a t r e . T h e V o g u e w a s g i v e n a " p e r f e c t 3 6 " a w a r d i n 1 9 4 1 , p r e s e n t e d b y t h e Annual Theatre Catalogue i n r e c o g n i t i o n o f t h e 3 6 m o s t m o d e r n t h e a t r e s o p e r a t i n g i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d C a n a d a . I t i s t h o u g h t t o b e t h e o n l y C a n a d i a n t h e a t r e so r e c o g n i z e d . T h e g r a n d o p e n i n g , a t t e n d e d b y H o l l y w o o d c e l e b r i t i e s , w a s o n A p r i l 1 4 , 1 9 4 1 . T h e " l a s t p i c t u r e s h o w " w a s i n J u n e o f 1 9 8 7 a l t h o u g h t h e l e a s e o n t h e b u i l d i n g r a n u n t i l 1 9 9 1 . T h e " S a v e t h e V o g u e " c o m m i t t e e s o u g h t f u n d s t o f i g h t t o s a v e t h e V o g u e {Vancouver Sun, S e p t e m b e r 1, 1 9 8 7 ) . T h e V o g u e w a s o w n e d b y S t e r l i n g E s t a t e s a n d t h e s a l e p r i c e w a s $ 1 . 6 5 m i l l i o n . T h e Vancouver Sun, 5 D e c e m b e r 1 9 8 7 , h e a d l i n e r e a d " E v e r y o n e h a s a p l a n to s a v e t h e V o g u e T h e a t r e . " T h e V o g u e C o m m i t t e e a s k e d C i t y C o u n c i l to p u r c h a s e t h e b u i l d i n g a n d l e a s e i t b a c k to t h e m a s a 1 , 0 0 0 s e a t c o n c e r t h a l l . I t w a s a r g u e d t h a t t h e r e n t f o r t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e w a s $ 4 5 0 0 a n i g h t , a n d t h a t t h e t h e a t r e w a s too l a r g e a n d t o o e x p e n s i v e f o r m a n y p r o d u c t i o n s . S e v e r a l p r i v a t e c o m p a n i e s a n d t w o n o n - p r o f i t s o c i e t i e s w e r e i n t e r e s t e d i n t h e V o g u e . G o r d o n C a m p b e l l a d v i s e d g r o u p s to i n v e s t i g a t e t h e p o s s i b i l i t i e s o f a c q u i r i n g financial h e l p f r o m s u r r o u n d i n g m u n i c i p a l i t i e s {Vancouver Sun, N o v e m b e r 2 5 , 1 9 8 7 ) . T h i s i s t h e a p p r o a c h t h a t i s t a k e n i n V i c t o r i a w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e t h e a t r e s m a n a g e d b y t h e M c P h e r s o n F o u n d a t i o n . T h e M c P h e r s o n P l a y h o u s e (the o l d P a n t a g e s ) a n d t h e R o y a l T h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n s a n d o p e r a t i n g c o s t s a r e financed b y t h e C i t y o f V i c t o r i a a n d t h e M u n i c i p a h t i e s o f O a k B a y , E s q u i m a l t a n d S a a n i c h . F o r five y e a r s t h e V o g u e T h e a t r e h a s s a t d e r e l i c t o n G r a n v i l l e M a l l . M a n y o p t i o n s h a v e b e e n c o n s i d e r e d b y p r i v a t e i n v e s t o r s a n d p u b l i c a r t s g r o u p s o v e r t h e y e a r s . T h e V a n c o u v e r M u s i c a l A l l i a n c e , a p r o f e s s i o n a l a s s o c i a t i o n o f t h e c i t y ' s m a j o r m u s i c o r g a n i z a t i o n s , w a n t e d t o c o n v e r t t h e b u i l d i n g i n t o a 1 2 0 0 s e a t c o n c e r t h a l l . T h e r e w a s a n e e d a n d s t i l l i s a n e e d f o r a m e d i u m s i z e d t h e a t r e f o r c o m m u n i t y c u l t u r a l u s e i n t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r . T h e O r p h e u m a n d t h e Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h T h e a t r e s h a v e 2 8 0 0 s e a t s , t h e V a n c o u v e r P l a y h o u s e h a s 7 4 6 s e a t s . S u r v e y s s h o w e d t h a t t h e r e w e r e 2 1 o r g a n i z a t i o n s i n t e r e s t e d i n a m e d i u m s i z e d f a c i l i t y . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r ' s s o c i a l p l a n n i n g d e p a r t m e n t w a s c o n s i d e r i n g a p r o p o s a l f o r a r t s a n d e n t e r t a i n m e n t r e l a t e d d e v e l o p m e n t s o n G r a n v i l l e M a l l w h i c h i n c l u d e d a p r o p o s e d c o n v e r s i o n o f t h e V o g u e . T h e r e w a s a s t u d y c o m m i s s i o n e d . R e f u r b i s h i n g o f t h e V o g u e w a s e s t i m a t e d to b e $ 4 0 0 , 0 0 0 i n 1 9 8 7 w i t h a n a d d i t i o n a l $ 7 0 0 , 0 0 0 r e q u i r e d f o r t h e u p - g r a d i n g o f t h e l o b b y , w a s h r o o m s a n d s e a t i n g . A c o u s t i c a l t e s t s i n d i c a t e d t h e h a l l w a s s u i t a b l e f o r l i v e m u s i c . " E v e r y t h i n g ' s t h e r e - i n c l u d i n g floodlights." {Vancouver Sun, April 26, 1 9 8 6 ) . I n 1 9 8 8 , R a n d y B a c h m a n , a l o c a l m u s i c i a n p l a n n e d t o p u r c h a s e t h e V o g u e a n d t u r n i t i n t o t h e " w o r l d ' s o n l y l i v e - c o n c e r t r o c k - v i d e o s t u d i o . " H o w e v e r , i t w a s r e p o r t e d t h a t t h e C i t y ' s s o c i a l p l a n n i n g d e p a r t m e n t s t i l l a p p e a r e d to a d v o c a t e c o m m u n i t y u s e o f t h e V o g u e a s t h e f o c u s o f a v a r i e t y o f e n t e r t a i n m e n t f a c i l i t i e s t h a t c o u l d b e e s t a b l i s h e d i n t h e s o u t h e r n p a r t o f G r a n v i l l e M a U {Vancouver Sun, 1 4 A p r i l 1 9 8 8 ) . T h e l o c a l a r t s g r o u p s w e r e s u r p r i s e d b y t h e B a c h m a n p u r c h a s e a n d A l d e r m a n J o n a t h a n B a k e r s t a t e d " I f e e l i t ' s m u c h h e a l t h i e r f o r t h e t h e a t r e to r e m a i n i n t h e p r i v a t e s e c t o r . " I t a p p e a r e d t h a t t h e C i t y w o u l d o n l y p u r c h a s e t h e b u i l d i n g a s a l a s t r e s o r t . T h e B a c h m a n s a l e d i d n o t g o t h r o u g h (Vancouver Sun, 1 6 A p r i l 1 9 8 8 ) . T h e V o g u e w a s r e s o l d a t $ 1 . 2 5 m i l l i o n to o f f - s h o r e i n v e s t o r s (Vancouver Sun, 2 2 M a r c h 1 9 8 9 ) . T h e b u i l d i n g i s a v a i l a b l e f o r l e a s e a t $ 1 1 , 0 0 0 p e r m o n t h w h i c h i n c l u d e s p r o p e r t y t a x e s (Vancouver Sun, 2 9 J u n e 1 9 9 0 ) . The Stanley Theatre, Granville Street South 3 . 5 T H E S T A N L E Y T H E A T R E T h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e , 2 7 5 0 G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t S o u t h , o p e n e d i n 1 9 3 1 . I t w a s b u i l t b y F r e d e r i c k G u e s t a n d d e s i g n e d b y V a n c o u v e r A r c h i t e c t , H e n r y H o l d s k y S i m m o n d s . " I t i s o f ' f a i n t l y M o o r i s h ' e x t e r i o r , c a p p e d b y t h e b o l d a n d f r i e n d l y 1 9 4 0 s e r a n e o n s i g n t h a t h a s w e l c o m e d t h r e e g e n e r a t i o n s o f p a t r o n s . I n s i d e , a n ' e s c a p i s t i n t e r i o r - a n a u d i t o r i u m d o m e d i n t h e I t a l i a n a t e s t y l e ' " ( W a r d , 1 9 9 1 ) . F a m o u s P l a y e r s p u r c h a s e d t h e t h e a t r e i n 1 9 4 1 f o r $ 2 6 8 , 0 0 0 . T h e S t a n l e y i s a t r u e m o t i o n p i c t u r e p a l a c e a n d u n t i l i t c l o s e d o n S e p t e m b e r 2 5 , 1 9 9 1 , w a s o n e o f t h e f e w i n N o r t h A m e r i c a s t i l l i n o p e r a t i o n . T h e t h e a t r e i s t h o r o u g h l y m o d e r n w i t h a l a r g e s c r e e n , u p g r a d e d s e a t i n g , 7 0 m m p r o j e c t o r s a n d a s t a t e - o f - t h e - a r t T H X D o l b y s i x - t r a c k s o u n d s y s t e m , o n e o f o n l y t w o t h e a t r e s so e q u i p p e d i n B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . T h e S t a n l e y h a s a n " A " s t a t u s o n t h e c i t y ' s h e r i t a g e i n v e n t o r y a n d m a n y b e l i e v e t h a t t h e C i t y h a s a d u t y t o s a v e t h e S t a n l e y . " I f t h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e g o e s , a l m o s t n o n e o f t h e p l a c e s t h a t m a k e V a n c o u v e r a u n i q u e a n d b e a u t i f u l c i t y c a n b e c o n s i d e r e d s a f e , no m a t t e r h o w t r e a s u r e d " ( V . A . C . , 1 9 9 1 ) . I t i s o f f e r e d f o r s a l e f o r $ 4 . 5 m i l l i o n i n 1 9 9 2 a n d c a r r i e s w i t h i t t h e r e s t r i c t i v e c o v e n a n t a t t a c h e d t o t h e s a l e s a g r e e m e n t t h a t f o r b i d s e v e n t u a l p u r c h a s e r s f r o m u s i n g t h e b u i l d i n g a s a m o v i e t h e a t r e . F a m o u s P l a y e r s a r g u e d t h a t a t t e n d a n c e d i d n o t j u s t i f y t h e c o n t i n u e d o p e r a t i o n f r o m a n e c o n o m i c p o i n t o f v i e w , h o w e v e r i t w a s n o t e d b y m a n y t h e a t r e - g o e r s t h a t g r a d e B m o v i e s w e r e c o n s i s t e n t l y s h o w n i n t h e l a s t m o n t h s o f t h e t h e a t r e s e x i s t e n c e t h u s c r e a t i n g a s e l f - f u l f i l l i n g p r o p h e s y ( K l u c k n e r , 1 9 9 2 ) . W h e n t h e t h e a t r e m a n a g e r , G o r d o n M c L e o d , w a s i n t e r v i e w e d f o r a f e a t u r e i n t h e Vancouver Province, M a y 2 0 , 1 9 9 0 , h e s a i d , " P e o p l e c o m e f r o m a l l o v e r t h e L o w e r M a i n l a n d to s e e a m o v i e h e r e . . . . P a r k i n g i s a h e a d a c h e a n d t h e y h a v e t o l i n e u p o u t s i d e i n t h e r a i n , y e t t h e y c o m e h e r e . " H o w e v e r , w h e n G i l l i a n H o w a r d , F a m o u s P l a y e r s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e i n T o r o n t o w a s i n t e r v i e w e d w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e c l o s u r e o f t h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e , s h e s t a t e d " . . . t h e r e ' s n o t h i n g s p e c i a l a b o u t t h i s o l d t h e a t r e . . . d o z e n s o f t h e m a c r o s s t h e c o u n t r y h a v e b e e n c l o s e d . " S h e a l s o a d m i t t e d t h a t s h e h a d n e v e r b e e n to V a n c o u v e r [Vancouver Sun, 2 8 S e p t e m b e r 1 9 9 1 ) . B e f o r e t h e c l o s i n g d a t e t h e S . O . S . o r S a v e O u r S t a n l e y c o m m i t t e e o r g a n i z e d a v a r i e t y o f c i t i z e n a c t i o n e v e n t s . B r o c h u r e s w e r e p r i n t e d t h a t i n c l u d e d a d d r e s s e d c a r d s to b e s i g n e d a n d m a i l e d to M a y o r G o r d o n C a m p b e l l , R o n E m i h o o f F a m o u s P l a y e r s T o r o n t o , a n d M a r t i n D a v i s o f P a r a m o u n t C o m m u n i c a t i o n s N e w Y o r k , t h e p a r e n t c o m p a n y . T h o u s a n d s o f n a m e s w e r e p l a c e d o n p e t i t i o n s to M a y o r C a m p b e l l . M e d i a a t t e n t i o n w a s g a i n e d t h r o u g h r a l l i e s h e l d o u t s i d e t h e t h e a t r e ; f l y e r s w e r e h a n d e d o u t t h r o u g h o u t t h e c i t y ; b a n n e r s w e r e d i s t r i b u t e d ; a s p e c i a l T - s h i r t w a s m a d e a n d s o l d to r a i s e f u n d s ; a b o y c o t t o f F a m o u s P l a y e r s w a s c o n s i d e r e d ; t h e B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a G o v e r n m e n t E m p l o y e e s U n i o n u r g e d F a m o u s P l a y e r s to k e e p t h e S t a n l e y i n o p e r a t i o n o r to r e m o v e t h e r e s t r i c t i v e c o v e n a n t ; a s p e c i a l p r e s e n t a t i o n w a s m a d e to C o u n c i l b y D i r k B e c k a n d M i c h a e l K l u c k n e r , C h a i r m a n o f t h e C o m m u n i t y A r t s C o u n c i l ' s H e r i t a g e C o m m i t t e e . B e c k a n d K l u c k n e r t r i e d to p e r s u a d e C o u n c i l t h a t t h e S t a n l e y c o u l d m a k e e c o n o m i c s e n s e a s a m o v i e h o u s e i f F a m o u s P l a y e r s c o u l d s e l l t h e u n u s e d d e v e l o p m e n t p o t e n t i a l f r o m t h e s i t e a n d t r a n s f e r t h i s u n u s e d d e n s i t y v a l u e to a n o t h e r s i t e . T h e " S a v e O u r S t a n l e y " g r a s s - r o o t s c o m m u n i t y g r o u p w i s h e d to s e e t h e S t a n l e y r e t a i n e d f o r c o m m u n i t y u s e a n d u s e d f o r m o v i e s a n d s m a l l l i v e p e r f o r m a n c e g r o u p s . V a n c o u v e r C i t y C o u n c i l m a d e a c o m m i t m e n t to s a v e t h e e x t e r i o r o f t h e b u i l d i n g . M a y o r C a m p b e l l s t a t e d t h a t " T h e r e i s n o t h i n g i n l a w t h a t a l l o w s c o u n c i l to p r e s e r v e a b u i l d i n g ' s u s e . . . . H e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n i s a b o u t b u i l d i n g s , i t ' s n o t a b o u t w h a t h a p p e n s i n s i d e t h e b u i l d i n g s " {Vancouver Sun, 2 0 S e p t e m b e r 1 9 9 1 ) . I n a l e t t e r t o t h e e d i t o r o f T h e Georgia Strait, M a r c h 8 , 1 9 9 1 , D i r k B e c k , a m e m b e r o f t h e H e r i t a g e V a n c o u v e r C o m m i t t e e , s t a t e d : T h e i m m i n e n t s a l e a n d p r o p o s e d p l a n s f o r t h e S t a n l e y a r e t y p i c a l o f t h e " b o t t o m l i n e " d e v e l o p m e n t g o i n g o n i n t h i s t o w n . V e n d o r a n d p u r c h a s e r s a l i k e d i s p l a y l i t t l e r e g a r d f o r w h a t v a l u e b u i l d i n g s a n d t h e i r c o n t e n t s m a y h a v e a s i d e f r o m t h e i r a b i l i t y to g e n e r a t e p r o f i t . T o t h e s e c a r p e t - b a g g e r s , i t n e v e r o c c u r s t h a t w h a t m a y b e n o t h i n g m o r e t h a n a c o m m o d i t y to t h e m a s m u c h m o r e p r e c i o u s f o r w h a t i t c o n t r i b u t e s t o t h e l i f e o f t h e c o m m u n i t y . . . , " F i n e " , t h e y s a y , " w e ' U k e e p t h e f a c a d e . " B e h i n d t h i s p r o p p e d - u p , i r o n i c c o n c e r n t h e y p r o c e e d to t h r o w t o g e t h e r y e t a n o t h e r g l o s s a r y a r c a d e o f " p r i m e r e t a i l a n d o f f i c e s p a c e s " . . . W h a t a b o u t b e i n g a b l e t o w a l k i n t o a b u i l d i n g a n d g e t s o m e t h i n g o u t o f i t b e s i d e s a p a i r o f G u c c i s h o e s ? A n a n n o u n c e m e n t w a s m a d e r e g a r d i n g a c o n d i t i o n a l s a l e t o a V a n c o u v e r d e v e l o p e r w h o w i s h e d to t u r n t h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e i n t o r e t a i l a n d o f f i c e s p a c e . T e d T o w n s e n d , a r e p o r t e r f o r t h e West Ender, s t a t e d " T h o s e c o m m u n i t i e s t h a t h a v e a d o p t e d s u c c e s s f u l h e r i t a g e p r o g r a m s h a v e s u c c e e d e d b e c a u s e o f o n e s i m p l e f a c t o r : d e t e r m i n a t i o n . . . . A s l o n g a s C i t y C o u n c i l p a y s l i p s e r v i c e t o h e r i t a g e p r o t e c t i o n a n d p u t s i t s f a i t h i n m i l q u e t o a s t r e s o l u t i o n s a n d b y l a w s , i m p o r t a n t h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s w i l l c o n t i n u e t o f a l l " {The West Ender, 2 1 M a r c h 1 9 9 1 ) . W h e n a d e v e l o p e r o f f e r e d a f a c e - s a v i n g m e a s u r e ( l i t e r a l l y ) t h e y j u m p e d f o r i t . . . . T h e s u r v i v a l o f t h e S t a n l e y i s n o t t h e r e a l i s s u e . . . T h e i s s u e i s t h a t c i t y c o u n c i l i s m o r e c o m m i t t e d to m a k i n g h f e e a s y f o r t h e d e v e l o p e r s t h a n i t i s to p r e s e r v i n g t h e p a s t . C o u n c i l m e m b e r s r o u t i n e l y j u m p o n t h e r e a s o n s w h y p r e s e r v a t i o n o f a h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g m i g h t n o t w o r k a s e x c u s e f o r d o i n g n o t h i n g . T h e y r a r e l y g i v e d u e c o n s i d e r a t i o n to t h e r e a s o n s w h y a b u i l d i n g s h o u l d b e s a v e d {West Ender, 2 1 M a r c h 1 9 9 1 ) . T h e Vancouver Sun, A p r i l 1 9 , 1 9 9 1 r e p o r t e d t h a t C o u n c i l M e m b e r s u n a n i m o u s l y a g r e e d t h e c i t y s h o u l d t r y to p e r s u a d e F a m o u s P l a y e r s to e n s u r e t h e S t a n l e y r e m a i n s a m o v i e t h e a t r e . The Sun s t a t e d t h a t " T h e f u n c t i o n o f t h e b u i l d i n g a s a t h e a t r e i s a s i m p o r t a n t to i t s h e r i t a g e v a l u e a s t h e a r c h i t e c t u r a l c o m p o n e n t . C o u n c i l m a n H a r r y R a n k i n e x p r e s s e d t h e o p i n i o n s o f m a n y w h e n h e s a i d t h a t i t w a s a m e a n i n g l e s s g e s t u r e to s a v e t h e f a c a d e a n d t h a t t h e C i t y s h o u l d v i e w t h e t h e a t r e . . . " e i t h e r a s a t h e a t r e o r n o t a t a l l " (Vancouver Sun, 1 9 A p r i l 1 9 9 1 ) . C i t y C o u n c i l w a s c r i t i c i z e d f o r a c c e p t i n g F a m o u s P l a y e r s a r g u m e n t s a t f a c e v a l u e a n d w e r e a p p a r e n t l y u n p r e p a r e d to e x p l o r e t h e i s s u e f u r t h e r w i t h r e s p e c t to a l t e r n a t i v e e c o n o m i c s o l u t i o n s . T h e p o t e n t i a l p u r c h a s e a g r e e m e n t w a s w i t h d r a w n i n M a y o f 1 9 9 1 . T h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e , t h e o l d e s t o p e r a t i n g m o v i e t h e a t r e i n V a n c o u v e r , c l o s e d o n S e p t e m b e r 2 5 , 1 9 9 1 , o n e d a y e a r l i e r t h a n p r e v i o u s l y a n n o u n c e d . T h e a t r e m a n a g e m e n t f e a r e d t h e a c t i o n s o f d i s g r u n t l e d t h e a t r e a d v o c a t e s d u e to t h e a c t i o n s b y t h e " S a v e O u r S t a n l e y " c o m m i t t e e a n d t h e n o t - s o - s u b t l e s u g g e s t i o n s m a d e b y D r . T o m P e r r y , M e m b e r f o r V a n c o u v e r P o i n t G r e y . D r . P e r r y w a s q u o t e d i n t h e Vancouver Sun, S e p t e m b e r 2 0 , 1 9 9 1 : S u p p o s i n g p e o p l e w e r e to s h o w u p f o r t h e l a s t s h o w a n d t h e n d e c i d e . . . t h e y d i d n ' t w a n t to l e a v e , a n d t h e y w e r e h a v i n g s u c h a g o o d t i m e t h a t t h e y i n v i t e d t h e m a n a g e m e n t to s t a y a s w e l l a n d t h e y u n r o l l e d s l e e p i n g b a g s . . . . E v e n t u a l l y t h e y w o u l d b e t h r o w n o u t . . . b u t i n t h e m e a n t i m e t h e y ' d b e i n a v e r y g o o d p o s i t i o n to a s k t h e m e d i a to v i s i t t h e m , a n d t h e y c o u l d c e r t a i n l y a s k t h e c i t y a l d e r m e n a n d t h e L i t t l e M o u n t a i n c a n d i d a t e s to c o m e a n d l i s t e n t o t h e i r c o n c e r n s . I f I w e r e c a l l e d , I w o u l d g o . W h e n C o u n c i l v o t e d o n t h e d e c i s i o n w i t h r e s p e c t to a l l o w i n g f u r t h e r c o n s i d e r a t i o n o f a l t e r n a t e u s e s f o r t h e S t a n l e y o r e n c o u r a g i n g p r i v a t e d e v e l o p m e n t a n d " f a c a d i s m , " t h e p o U t i c a l s p l i t w a s a p p a r e n t . T h e M a y o r a n d l i k e - m i n d e d c o u n c i l m e m b e r s w o u l d n o t a g r e e to a f u r t h e r s t u d y o f t h e i s s u e . O n J u n e 4 , 1 9 9 1 C i t y C o u n c i l v o t e d to e n d o r s e r e t a i l u s e o f t h e b u i l d i n g . N e g o t i a t i o n s t o o k p l a c e w i t h F a m o u s P l a y e r s b u t t h e p u b l i c w a s n o t p r i v y to t h e d i s c u s s i o n s . T h e o r i g i n a l p u r c h a s e r s t a t e d t h a t t h e r e w a s s t i l l i n t e r e s t p r o v i d i n g t h e c i t y w o u l d c o o p e r a t e h o w e v e r t h e r e w e r e d e a d l i n e s . C i t y C o u n c i l s e t o u t t h e f o l l o w i n g o p t i o n s : . C i t y C o u n c i l w o u l d a l l o w t h e d e v e l o p e r t o t r a n s f e r s o m e d e n s i t y f r o m t h e S t a n l e y s i t e . T h e d e v e l o p e r w o u l d a l l o w d e s i g n a t i o n s w h i c h w o u l d s a v e t h e b u i l d i n g . . C i t y s t a f f w o u l d h e l p t h e d e v e l o p e r r e s o l v e b y l a w r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r p a r k i n g a n d s e i s m i c u p g r a d i n g . . C o u n c i l w o u l d e n d o r s e r e - u s e o f t h e S t a n l e y a s r e t a i l s p a c e - o n t h e b a s i s t h a t t h e S t a n l e y w i l l b e p r e s e r v e d (Vancouver Sun, 1 J u n e 1 9 9 1 ) . T h e s a l e o f t h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e d i d n o t t a k e p l a c e , p e r h a p s d u e to t h e e c o n o m i c d o w n t u r n . T o m P e r r y h a d b e e n a c t i v e l y i n v o l v e d i n t h e " S a v e t h e S t a n l e y " c r u s a d e a n d h a d a s k e d C i t y C o u n c i l to a s s u r e t h a t n o i r r e v e r s i b l e w o r k t h r e a t e n t h e i n t e r i o r u n t i l a f t e r t h e P r o v i n c i a l e l e c t i o n . P e r r y s t a t e d t h a t h e w o u l d t r y to s a v e t h e S t a n l e y i f a N e w D e m o c r a t i c P a r t y g o v e r n m e n t w a s e l e c t e d (Vancouver Sun, 2 0 S e p t e m b e r 1 9 9 1 ) . B e f o r e t h e e l e c t i o n T o m P e r r y s t a t e d : W e d o n ' t h a v e a n y h e s i t a t i o n a b o u t p o u r i n g p u b l i c f u n d s i n t o s p o r t i n g s t a d i u m s l i k e B . C . P l a c e , w h i c h h a s b e e n a d e s p e r a t e m o n e y - l o s e r f o r t h e t a x p a y e r s . W h y s h o u l d w e s h r i n k s o a b s o l u t e l y f r o m i n v e s t i n g p u b l i c f u n d s i n a c u l t u r a l f a c i h t y i f w e c a n g u a r a n t e e t h a t t h e r e ' s a p u b l i c r e t u r n f r o m i t ? A N e w D e m o c r a t i c g o v e r n m e n t h a s b e e n e l e c t e d . T h e S t a n l e y i s b o a r d e d u p a n d a w a i t s s o m e f o r m o f p o l i c y a c t i o n . T h e c i t i z e n s o f V a n c o u v e r w h o a r e i n t e r e s t e d i n t h e c u l t u r a l w e l l - b e i n g o f t h e c o m m u n i t y a w a i t i m p o r t a n t p o l i t i c a l d e c i s i o n s w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e t w o h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s t h a t r e m a i n w i t h i n t h e i r c o m m u n i t y . T h e c o m m u n i t y h a s d e m o n s t r a t e d a s t r o n g i n t e r e s t i n t h e f a t e o f t h e t h e a t r e s ; t h e t i m e h a s c o m e f o r e l e c t e d c o m m u n i t y r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s t o r e s p o n d b y p r e s s i n g t h e P r o v i n c i a l G o v e r n m e n t to a d o p t t h e White Paper on Heritage Legislation, i n i t i a t e a n d a d o p t p r o g r e s s i v e , r a t h e r t h a n r e a c t i o n a r y , p o l i c i e s t h a t r e f l e c t c o m m u n i t y s y m p a t h i e s a n d c o m m u n i t y n e e d s . C H A P T E R I V : A N A L Y S I S 4 . 0 C R O S S - C U L T U R A L C A S E S T U D Y A N A L Y S I S 4 . 1 C o m p a r a t i v e C i v i c R e s p o n s e : C a n a d i a n a n d A m e r i c a n I n o r d e r to a n a l y z e t h e d y n a m i c s o f c i v i c a c t i o n a n d t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s i t i s n e c e s s a r y t o e s t a b l i s h t h e c u l t u r a l c o n t e x t o r f r a m e w o r k t h a t f o r m s t h e b a s i s o f t h e c i v i c a c t i o n a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e s e l e c t e d c a s e s t u d i e s . C a n a d i a n a n d A m e r i c a n s o c i o e c o n o m i c a n d p o l i t i c a l e n v i r o n m e n t s a r e e x a m i n e d , r e l e v a n t c r o s s - c u l t u r a l c o m p a r i s o n s a r e d i s c u s s e d , d e p e n d e n t a n d i n d e p e n d e n t v a r i a b l e s a r e i d e n t i f i e d . T h e o r e t i c a l l y s i g n i f i c a n t e x p l a n a t i o n s a r e f o r m u l a t e d i n o r d e r to b e t t e r u n d e r s t a n d t h e d y n a m i c s o f c i v i c a c t i o n i n g e n e r a l , a n d t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s i n p a r t i c u l a r . T h e c a s e s t u d i e s h e r e i n n o t o n l y p r o v i d e a n o p p o r t u n i t y t o a n a l y z e d i f f e r e n c e s w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e c i v i c a c t i o n t h a t p r o p e l s r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s e s f r o m t h e p e r s p e c t i v e s o f t i m e a n d c i r c u m s t a n c e , b u t b e t w e e n t w o d i f f e r e n t p o h t i c a l a n d p l a n n i n g e n v i r o n m e n t s . T h e p u b l i c n a t u r e o f C a n a d i a n u r b a n h f e i s a m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f a g r e a t e r c o l l e c t i v e o r i e n t a t i o n , w h i l e t h e p r i v a t i s m o f u r b a n A m e r i c a i s a m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f i n d i v i d u a h s m , h i g h l y p o s s e s s i v e a n d m a t e r i a h s t i c ( M e r c e r 1 9 8 6 , 3 8 1 ) . P l a n n i n g i n C a n a d a i s a p r o d u c t o f t h e B r i t i s h a n d A m e r i c a n e x p e r i e n c e . " W e h a v e d e v e l o p e d i n C a n a d a a h y b r i d o f g o v e r n m e n t i n t e r v e n t i o n a s a c c e p t e d p r a c t i c e i n l a n d u s e r e g u l a t i o n c o m b i n e d w i t h a h e a l t h y r e s p e c t f o r t h e ' p r e r o g a t i v e s o f p r i v a t e o w n e r s h i p ' a s g u a r a n t e e d i n A m e r i c a n c o n s t i t u t i o n a l d o c t r i n e " ( L a z e a r , 1 9 8 1 ) . O n o n e l e v e l , t h e r e i s m u c h t o b e l e a r n e d f r o m t h e A m e r i c a n e x a m p l e s , e s p e c i a l l y w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e o r g a n i z a t i o n a l a s p e c t s o f t h e a c q u i s i t i o n , r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e p r o c e s s . O n a n o t h e r l e v e l , t h e m o s t i m p o r t a n t e l e m e n t o f a s u c c e s s f u l p r o j e c t w i l l n o t b e f o u n d i n A m e r i c a n c a s e s t u d i e s o r j o u r n a l a r t i c l e s . O f t e n C a n a d i a n p l a n n e r s a r e f r u s t r a t e d w h e n t h e y a r e p r e s e n t e d w i t h e x a m p l e s o f s u c c e s s f u l h e r i t a g e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s t h a t a r e d o c u m e n t e d i n A m e r i c a n p l a n n i n g t e x t s a n d j o u r n a l s , o r h i g h h g h t e d a t A m e r i c a n p l a n n i n g c o n f e r e n c e s . T h e e d u c a t e d p l a n n e r i s u s u a l l y f u l l y c o g n i z a n t o f t h e d i f f e r e n c e s i n t h e p l a n n i n g a n d d e v e l o p m e n t e n v i r o n m e n t s i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s , a w a r e o f t h e h i s t o r i c a l e v o l u t i o n t h a t c o n t r i b u t e d t o t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f d i f f e r e n t s o c i o e c o n o m i c a n d p o h t i c a l p h i l o s o p h i e s . T h e s u c c e s s f u l p l a n n e r u n d e r s t a n d s t h e C a n a d i a n p o l i t i c a l a n d s o c i o e c o n o m i c e n v i r o n m e n t a n d t h u s i s a b l e t o w o r k w i t h i n t h e s y s t e m t o f a c i l i t a t e c h a n g e . T h e " o l d t h e a t r e b u f f " m a y n o t b e a s k n o w l e d g e a b l e o r w o r l d l y . T h o s e t h a t w o u l d b e c o m e k n o w l e d g e a b l e , a n d t h e r e b y e f f e c t i v e c o m m u n i t y a c t i v i s t s , n o t o n l y m u s t b e a b l e t o i d e n t i f y t h e d i f f e r e n c e s b e t w e e n t h e A m e r i c a n a n d C a n a d i a n p s y c h e i n o r d e r t o u s e t h e a v a i l a b l e i n f o r m a t i o n t o t h e b e s t a d v a n t a g e , b u t u n d e r s t a n d t h e r a p i d c h a n g e s t h a t a r e t a k i n g p l a c e w i t h i n C a n a d i a n u r b a n c u l t u r e a n d p o p u l a t i o n s . G r a s s - r o o t s c i v i c a c t i o n w i l l b e c o m e c o n s i d e r a b l y m o r e c o m p l e x o n b o t h s i d e s o f t h e b o r d e r d u e t o t h e p r o p o r t i o n o f t h e c i t i z e n r y t h a t i s n o w c o m p o s e d o f d i f f e r e n t e t h n i c g r o u p s . N e w C a n a d i a n s r e p r e s e n t o t h e r c u l t u r e s a n d m a y h a v e q u i t e d i f f e r e n t i d e a s w i t h r e s p e c t to w h a t m a y o r m a y n o t be i d e n t i f i e d a s i m p o r t a n t c u l t u r a l r e s o u r c e s w o r t h y o f p o l i t i c a l a n d f i n a n c i a l s u p p o r t . H o w w i l l t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e b e v i e w e d f r o m t h e s e p e r s p e c t i v e s ? T h i s s i t u a t i o n i s a t t r a c t i n g c o n c e r n t h r o u g h o u t h e r i t a g e o r i e n t e d g r o u p s i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a t p r e s e n t , a n d s u g g e s t s a n i m p o r t a n t r e s e a r c h s u b j e c t i n a n d o f i t s e l f . M a n y a u t h o r s r e s e a r c h i n g t h e d i f f e r e n c e s b e t w e e n A m e r i c a n a n d C a n a d i a n a t t i t u d e s r e f e r b a c k to t h e h i s t o r i c a l d e v e l o p m e n t o f e a c h c o u n t r y ( L i p s e t 1 9 8 9 ; M e r c e r 1 9 8 6 ) . T h e C o n s t i t u t i o n o f t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s i s b a s e d o n a n e x p e c t a t i o n of, " L i f e , L i b e r t y a n d t h e P u r s u i t o f H a p p i n e s s . " T h e B r i t i s h N o r t h A m e r i c a A c t , e s t a b h s h i n g t h e D o m i n i o n o f C a n a d a , s t a t e s a s p r i m a r y , " P e a c e , O r d e r a n d G o o d G o v e r n m e n t . " W e m a y s h a r e a c o n t i n e n t a n d a n e v e r - i n c r e a s i n g e c o n o m i c u n i o n , h o w e v e r , p o l i t i c s , l i k e r e l i g i o n , w i l l r e m a i n o n e o f t h e l a s t c u l t u r a l o u t p o s t s . W h i l e a v e r y s t r o n g c a s e f o r t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e m a y be m a d e , w e a r e n o t o p e r a t i n g i n t h e r e a l m o f w h a t w o u l d a p p e a r t o b e r a t i o n a l d e c i s i o n m a k i n g . T h e n a m e o f t h e g a m e i s " p o l i t i c s . " I n o r d e r to f u l l y u n d e r s t a n d t h e d y n a m i c s o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s i l l u s t r a t e d i n t h e p r e v i o u s l y o u t l i n e d c a s e s t u d i e s , i t i s n e c e s s a r y t o a p p r e c i a t e t h e d i f f e r e n c e s t h a t e x i s t b e t w e e n C a n a d a a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s i n t h e n a t u r e o f " g i v i n g " - b o t h o f p r i v a t e f u n d s a n d o f s e l f . T h i s i s i m p o r t a n t w i t h i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h i s t h e s i s i n t h a t C a n a d i a n g o v e r n m e n t s do n o t h a v e a n e s t a b l i s h e d f u n d i n g p o l i c y f o r h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s . O u r i n i t i a l r e a c t i o n i s t o h o p e f o r p r i v a t e i n i t i a t i v e s w h e n i n p r a c t i c e t h e s e a r e n o t f o r t h c o m i n g . A m e r i c a n g o v e r n m e n t s , t h r o u g h t a x a t i o n i n c e n t i v e s a n d o t h e r s f u n d i n g s o u r c e s , h a v e m o n i e s a l l o c a t e d f o r t h e p r e s e r v a t i o n o f h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s h a v i n g t h e r e q u i r e d q u a l i f i c a t i o n s . V o l u n t e e r s a l s o h a v e a b e l i e f t h a t t h e y m a y , t h r o u g h l o c a l i n i t i a t i v e s , a f f e c t d e c i s i o n m a k i n g a t t h e h i g h e s t l e v e l s , i n W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . C a n a d i a n s h a v e o f t e n f o u n d i t e a s i e r to e x p l a i n w h o t h e y a r e b y d e c l a r i n g w h o t h e y a r e n o t - a n d t h a t i s - A m e r i c a n s . H o w e v e r , S e y m o u r L i p s e t p o i n t s o u t t h a t b e c a u s e t h e t w o n a t i o n s v a r y i n e c o l o g y , d e m o g r a p h y a n d e c o n o m y t h e s e d i f f e r e n c e s h a v e h a d a n i m p o r t a n t i n f l u e n c e o n t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f n a t i o n a l v a l u e s a n d a t t i t u d e s . L i p s e t s t a t e s t h a t t h e i m m e n s e s i z e o f C a n a d a , a l o n g w i t h a s m a l l p o p u l a t i o n , h a v e r e s u l t e d i n g o v e r n m e n t i n v o l v e m e n t i n t h e e c o n o m y a n d a d e p e n d e n c e o n g o v e r n m e n t t o p r o v i d e v a r i o u s s e r v i c e s . T h e p o U t i c a l p h i l o s o p h y o n w h i c h t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s w a s f o u n d e d i s " a n t i - s t a t i s t . " " C o r p o r a t e g i v i n g i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a s a p e r c e n t a g e o f p r e - t a x i n c o m e h a s b e e n r o u g h l y d o u b l e t h e l e v e l i n C a n a d a o v e r t h e p a s t d e c a d e a n d i s n o w c l o s e to t h r e e t i m e s t h e c u r r e n t l e v e l i n C a n a d a " ( L i p s e t 1 9 8 9 , 1 4 3 ) . L i p s e t a r g u e s t h a t t h e t r a d i t i o n o f p r i v a t e s u p p o r t f o r w o r t h y e n d e a v o u r s i s f a r m o r e d e e p l y i m b e d d e d i n t h e A m e r i c a n p s y c h e t h a n i n t h e C a n a d i a n . W e C a n a d i a n s a p p e a r to r e l y m o r e o n g o v e r n m e n t t h a n o n v o l u n t a r y e f f o r t s t o finance s u c h c a u s e s . . . . I n C a n a d a i n 1 9 8 0 , i n d i v i d u a l g i v i n g w a s 7 t i m e s t o t a l c o r p o r a t e g i v i n g . I n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s t h e s a m e y e a r , i n d i v i d u a l s g a v e a p p r o x i m a t e l y 15 t i m e s a s m u c h a s c h a r i t a b l e c a u s e s a s c o r p o r a t i o n s ( L i p s e t 1 9 8 9 , 1 4 3 ) . L i p s e t p r e s e n t s a d d i t i o n a l s t a t i s t i c s to i l l u s t r a t e t h e d i f f e r e n c e s i n p r i v a t e p h i l a n t h r o p y b e t w e e n t h e t w o n a t i o n s . S u r v e y s o f A m e r i c a n s i n 1 9 8 5 a n d o f C a n a d i a n s i n 1 9 8 7 " F o u n d t h a t C a n a d i a n s g i v e l e s s p e r c a p i t a t h a n A m e r i c a n s . T h e C a n a d i a n s figure f o r n o n - r e U g i o u s c a u s e s i s C $ 1 2 2 , c o m p a r e d to U S $ 1 8 0 s o u t h o f t h e b o r d e r " ( L i p s e t 1 9 8 9 , 1 4 4 ) . L i p s e t s u g g e s t s t h a t t h e t r a d i t i o n o f p r i v a t e p h i l a n t h r o p y h a s a l o n g h i s t o r y i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d i t i s b a s e d o n t h e P r o t e s t a n t w o r k e t h i c a n d t h e l i b e r a l e m p h a s i s o n i n d i v i d u a l s a n d a c h i e v e m e n t . T h e a m o u n t A m e r i c a n s c o n t r i b u t e d to p h i l a n t h r o p i c e n d e a v o u r s i n 1 9 8 7 w a s a p p r o x i m a t e l y $ 9 4 b i U i o n , m o r e t h a n t w o a n d a h a l f t i m e s a s l a r g e a s a d e c a d e e a r l i e r , w h i l e C a n a d i a n s c o n v e r s e l y , a r e g i v i n g t h i r t y p e r c e n t l e s s to c h a r i t y t h a n t h e y d i d t w e n t y y e a r s a g o ( L i p s e t 1 9 8 9 ) . W h a t i s t h e l e s s o n to b e l e a r n e d f r o m t h i s ? I n a C a n a d i a n c o n t e x t , c i v i c a c t i o n f o c u s e d o n t h e a c q u i s i t i o n , r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f a h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s u c h a s a o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e w i l l b e f o r t h e m o s t p a r t d e p e n d e n t o n g o v e r n m e n t i n t e r v e n t i o n a n d f u n d i n g . A s a u t h o r J a m i e s o n p o i n t s o u t i n Creating Historic Districts: New Challenges for Historic Preservation in Western Canada, t h e e x a m p l e s o f B a t h , E n g l a n d a n d S a v a n n a h , G e o r g i a , p e r f e c t l y d e f i n e t h e i m p o r t a n t d i f f e r e n c e s i n t h e A m e r i c a n a n d t h e B r i t i s h a p p r o a c h . B a t h ' s h i s t o r i c d i s t r i c t i s a c r e a t u r e o f g o v e r n m e n t a n d i s a d m i n i s t e r e d a n d f o s t e r e d b y g o v e r n m e n t . . . . I n o r d e r to p r e s e r v e t h e p h y s i c a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s o f B a t h . . . t h e c o u n c i l a d o p t e d a s o m e w h a t D r a c o n i a n s e t o f s t r a t e g i e s : a b a n o n c e r t a i n r e t a i l u s e s . . . a c o m p l e t e b a n o n r e d e v e l o p m e n t u n l e s s i t c a n b e s h o w n t h a t a n e x i s t i n g b u i l d i n g c a n n o t b e r e u s e d . . . p o h c i e s t h a t r e s t r i c t r e s i d e n t i a l - t o - c o m m e r c i a l c o n v e r s i o n s . . . a g r e e n b e l t t h a t r e s t r i c t s g r o w t h a n d f o r c e s p e o p l e to r e u s e b u i l d i n g s i n t h e h i s t o r i c a r e a . T h u s t h e a r c h i t e c t u r a l q u a l i t y o f B a t h h a s b e e n r e t a i n e d a n d e n h a n c e d t h r o u g h s t r o n g g o v e r n m e n t a c t i o n ( J a m i e s o n , 2 2 4 ) . S a v a n n a h ' s h i s t o r i c d i s t r i c t i s o n e o f t h e o l d e s t i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s . " T h e l e v e l o f r e s t o r a t i o n w o r k i n S a v a n n a h h a s b e e n o f t h e h i g h e s t q u a l i t y , w i t h m o s t o f i t c a r r i e d o u t b y i n d i v i d u a l b u i l d i n g o w n e r s " ( J a m i e s o n , 2 2 4 ) . T h e H i s t o r i c S a v a n n a h F o u n d a t i o n w a s f o r m e d p r i v a t e l y a n d t h e r e v o l v i n g f u n d t h a t i t e s t a b l i s h e d h a s e n a b l e d b u i l d i n g s to b e p u r c h a s e d , r e n o v a t e d a n d r e s o l d w i t h r e s t r i c t i o n s p l a c e d o n d e s i g n a n d u s e . T h e F o u n d a t i o n i s a p r i v a t e e n t i t y s u p p o r t e d b y p a i d a s w e l l a s v o l u n t e e r s t a f f . W h i l e t h e r e h a s b e e n s o m e g o v e r n m e n t i n t e r v e n t i o n , t h e i n i t i a t i v e a n d e n e r g y h a s b e e n f r o m t h e p r i v a t e / v o l u n t e e r s e c t o r ( J a m i e s o n , 1 9 9 0 ) . 4 . 2 C a s e S t u d y A n a l y s i s C a s e s t u d y r e s e a r c h i s u n a b l e t o p r o v i d e w h a t m a y b e c o n s i d e r e d n e c e s s a r y t o q u a l i f y a s s c i e n t i f i c r e s e a r c h - s c i e n t i f i c g e n e r a l i z a t i o n s t h a t m a y b e a p p l i e d t o p o p u l a t i o n s o r t h e u n i v e r s e . T h e c a s e s t u d y d o e s n o t r e p r e s e n t a " s a m p l e . " T h e g o a l o f t h e i n v e s t i g a t o r w h o u s e s t h e c a s e s t u d y i s to e x p a n d a n d g e n e r a l i z e t h e o r i e s - n o t to e n u m e r a t e f r e q u e n c i e s . D e c i s i o n s a r e t h e m a j o r f o c u s o f c a s e s t u d y r e s e a r c h . " I t t r i e s t o i l l u m i n a t e a d e c i s i o n o r s e t o f d e c i s i o n s ; w h y t h e y w e r e t a k e n , h o w t h e y w e r e i m p l e m e n t e d a n d w i t h w h a t r e s u l t " ( Y i n 1 9 8 9 , 2 1 ) . C a s e s t u d i e s w i l l p r o v i d e u s w i t h a n s w e r s t o t h e v e r y i m p o r t a n t " h o w " a n d " w h y " q u e s t i o n s . T h e a n a l y s i s o f t h e T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n a n d t h e V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e c a s e s t u d i e s w i l l d e v e l o p t h e o r e t i c a l e x p l a n a t i o n s f o r t h e d i f f e r e n t a p p r o a c h e s t o p r o b l e m s o l v i n g a n d t h e s u c c e s s e s t h a t e n s u e d . C r i t i c a l i n s i g h t s w i l l a s s i s t o t h e r s w h o m a y w i s h to e n g a g e i n t h e t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s a n d t h o s e w h o w i s h t o r e s e a r c h t h e s u b j e c t a r e a f u r t h e r . W i t h i n t h e c o n c l u s i o n s , r e c o m m e n d a t i o n s f o r f u t u r e a c t i o n s w i l l b e m a d e . T h e c a s e s t u d i e s w i l l b e e x a m i n e d w i t h i n t h e c o n t e x t o f c r o s s - c u l t u r a l d i f f e r e n c e s p r e v i o u s l y d i s c u s s e d , a n d a c c o r d i n g t o t h e f o l l o w i n g f r a m e w o r k : 1) I n n e r - c i t y u r b a n d e v e l o p m e n t 2) I n i t i a l g r a s s - r o o t s r e s p o n s e 3) C o m m u n i t y r e s p o n s e 4) G o v e r n m e n t r e s p o n s e a n d e c o n o m i c s u p p o r t . D r a w i n g b y Jeff K e a t e ; © 1968 N a t i o n a l O b s e r v e r , July 19 4 . 2 . 1 I n n e r - c i t y D e v e l o p m e n t T h e p u b l i c n a t u r e o f C a n a d i a n u r b a n l i f e i s a m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f a g r e a t e r c o l l e c t i v e o r i e n t a t i o n , w h i l e t h e p r i v a t i s m o f u r b a n A m e r i c a i s a m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f i n d i v i d u a h s m , h i g h l y p o s s e s s i v e a n d m a t e r i a h s t i c ( M e r c e r , 3 8 1 ) . T h e f a t e o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e h a s b e e n v e r y m u c h a t t h e m e r c y o f t h e a t t i t u d e s t h a t e x i s t w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e i n n e r c i t y . T h e t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t s f l o u r i s h e d i n b o t h t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d C a n a d a w h e n t h e i n n e r c i t y w a s v i e w e d a s a v i a b l e a n d e c o n o m i c a l l y a d v a n t a g e o u s p l a c e to do b u s i n e s s . T h e d i f f e r e n t p o l i t i c a l c u l t u r e s o f t h e t w o c o u n t r i e s h a v e r e s u l t e d i n q u i t e d i f f e r e n t v i e w s w i t h r e s p e c t to c o n t i n u e d i n t e r e s t i n t h e i n n e r c i t i e s . A m e r i c a n c i t i e s , l o o s e l y m a n a g e d , w e r e g e n e r a l l y a b a n d o n e d b y t h e d e v e l o p m e n t i n d u s t r y w h i l e t h e e m p h a s i s w a s p l a c e d o n s u b u r b a n d e v e l o p m e n t a n d o u t m i g r a t i o n . I n n e r c i t i e s w e r e l e f t to e t h n i c m i n o r i t i e s a n d t h e p o o r . V e r y l o w r e a l e s t a t e v a l u e s w e r e t h e r e s u l t . B e c a u s e o f t h i s , m a n y o f t h e g r a n d o l d m o v i e p a l a c e s w e r e c l o s e d , b u t t h e y w e r e n o t d e m o l i s h e d . A l t h o u g h C a n a d a d i d n o t h a v e t h e v e r y l a r g e i n v e n t o r y o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s t h a t w a s to b e f o u n d i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s , o n a p r o p o r t i o n a l b a s i s f e w e r o f t h e m s u r v i v e b e c a u s e o f t h e w a y C a n a d i a n p l a n n i n g j u r i s d i c t i o n s a d o p t l o c a l c o n t r o l o v e r d e v e l o p m e n t a n d u r b a n s p r a w l t h u s r e t a i n i n n e r c i t y p r o p e r t y v a l u e s . W h a t w e n e g l e c t e d to p l a c e v a l u e o n , h o w e v e r , w e r e o u r h i s t o r i c s t r u c t u r e s w i t h i n t h e i n n e r c i t y . C a n a d i a n c i t i e s , m o r e g o v e r n e d a n d m a n a g e d , r e t a i n e d t h e i n n e r c i t y a s a v i t a l e c o n o m i c r e s o u r c e . T h u s , r e a l e s t a t e v a l u e s w e r e r e t a i n e d a n d m a n y o f t h e o l d m o v i e t h e a t r e s w e r e d e m o h s h e d , r a p i d l y i n m a n y c a s e s , a s s o o n a s t h e y l o s t t h e i r e c o n o m i c v i a b i l i t y a n d a s p r o p e r t y v a l u e s e s c a l a t e d . T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n f i t s t h e s c e n a r i o i n t h a t m u c h o f t h e c i t i e s c o m m e r c i a l g r o w t h h a s m o v e d o u t s i d e o f t h e i n n e r c i t y . T h e r e a r e n o r e t a i l s h o p s d o w n t o w n to s p e a k of, a n d a f t e r t h e w o r k i n g f o r c e r e t u r n s h o m e t o t h e s u b u r b s , t h e i n n e r c i t y i s a b a n d o n e d to t h e p o o r e r e l e m e n t s o f s o c i e t y . T h e o l d t h e a t r e s s u r v i v e d m a i n l y b e c a u s e b u s i n e s s a n d r e a l e s t a t e v a l u e s h a d d e p a r t e d . W h e n t h e P a n t a g e s w a s r e c o g n i z e d a s a v i a b l e o p t i o n f o r t h e c u l t u r a l c o m m u n i t y , t h e c o s t o f t h e l a r g e J o n e s b u i l d i n g w a s n o t p r o h i b i t i v e - $ 4 5 0 , 0 0 0 i n 1 9 7 5 c o m p a r e d to t h e O r p h e u m , a t $ 3 . 2 m i l l i o n i n 1 9 7 4 . T h e O r p h e u m h a s , h o w e v e r , t w i c e t h e s e a t i n g c a p a c i t y . T h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e w a s a l s o i n t a c t , w a i t i n g to b e d i s c o v e r e d , a n d i s n o w , a l o n g w i t h t h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e , a n i m p o r t a n t p a r t o f T a c o m a ' s d o w n t o w n t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t d e v e l o p m e n t . I n t h e c a s e o f t h e O r p h e u m i n V a n c o u v e r , c l e v e r m a r k e t i n g k e p t t h e t h e a t r e o p e r a t i n g . H o w e v e r , t h e G r a n v i l l e M a l l i s n o t i d e n t i f i e d a s a p a r t i c u l a r l y a t t r a c t i v e r e d e v e l o p m e n t a r e a a n d i n v e s t o r s f a v o u r e d l a n d n e a r e r t o t h e h a r b o u r a n d a w a y f r o m G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t , a r a t h e r u n s i g h t l y t r a n s p o r t a t i o n a r t e r y . W h e n t h e O r p h e u m w a s t a r g e t e d b y a c i t i z e n s g r o u p . F a m o u s P l a y e r s L t d . , h a d a n o t h e r r e a s o n a b l e p r o p e r t y c l o s e b y t h a t c o u l d b e d e v e l o p e d . T h e s l u g g i s h r e a l e s t a t e v a l u e s a l o n g G r a n v i l l e M a l l c o n t r i b u t e t o t h e r e t e n t i o n o f o l d h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s , s u c h a s t h e V o g u e T h e a t r e . 4 . 2 . 2 I n i t i a l G r a s s - r o o t s R e s p o n s e T h e P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t a n d t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t h a v e s o m e s i m i l a r i t i e s i n t h a t a g r e a t d e a l o f " p a s s i o n " w a s e x p e n d e d i n t h e p r o c e s s e s . B o t h o f t h e s e t h e a t r e s w e r e b l e s s e d b y f e m a l e a d v o c a t e s w h o k n e w h o w to w o r k w i t h p e o p l e a n d w i t h i n t h e s y s t e m to m a k e t h i n g s h a p p e n . T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e p r o j e c t h a d a p e r f e c t " b i r t h " a s i t w a s t h r e a t e n e d w i t h a r e n o v a t i o n t h a t w o u l d h a v e d e s t r o y e d t h e i n i t i a l i n t e r i o r . T h e r e i s n o t h i n g m o r e e f f e c t i v e t h a n a n i m p e n d i n g d i s a s t e r to b r i n g o u t t h e t r o o p s . T h e g r a s s - r o o t s r e s p o n s e w a s d r a m a t i c , w i t h h u n d r e d s o f l e t t e r s a n d p h o n e c a l l s d i r e c t e d to t h e M a y o r ' s o f f i c e . T h e P a n t a g e s w a s n o t t h r e a t e n e d b y d e m o h t i o n , b u t t h e r e w e r e m a n y c i t i z e n s a n d c u l t u r a l a n d a r t s g r o u p s w h o d e s i r e d a c u l t u r a l c e n t r e a n d i d e n t i f i e d t h e P a n t a g e s a s t h e i r l a s t h o p e . W i t h t h e O r p h e u m , t h e n e e d w a s e s t a b h s h e d a f t e r t h e m o v e to s a v e t h e b u i l d i n g ; w i t h t h e P a n t a g e s , t h e n e e d h a d a l r e a d y b e e n e s t a b h s h e d w i t h i n t h e c o m m u n i t y . T h e b u i l d i n g f i l l e d t h e n e e d . G r a s s - r o o t s r e s p o n s e i s n o t s i g n i f i c a n t i n t h e d e c i s i o n t o r e s t o r e a n d r e u s e t h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e i n 1 9 9 1 . I t w o u l d a p p e a r to b e a n a s t u t e p l a n n i n g a n d b u s i n e s s d e c i s i o n t a k e n o n b e h a l f o f t h e c o m m u n i t y , a l t h o u g h t h e c i t i z e n s o f T a c o m a h a v e a g r e a t d e a l o f a f f e c t i o n f o r t h e t h e a t r e , a n d i t i s b e i n g l o v i n g l y r e s t o r e d . 4 . 2 . 3 C o m m u n i t y R e s p o n s e T h o s e w h o i n i t i a l l y p r o m o t e d t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f t h e P a n t a g e s a n d t h e O r p h e u m t h e a t r e s w e r e o v e r l y o p t i m i s t i c a b o u t t h e m o n e t a r y a i d t h a t w o u l d b e f o r t h c o m i n g f r o m t h e l o c a l c i t i z e n r y . T a c o m a , h o w e v e r , d i d m u c h b e t t e r t h a n t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r w h i c h h a d a p p r o x i m a t e l y t h e s a m e p o p u l a t i o n . T h e T a c o m a r e s p o n s e , h o w e v e r , w a s n o t q u i c k e n o u g h f o r v a r i o u s r e a s o n s . C o n t r i b u t i o n s a n d p l e d g e s v e r y o f t e n w e r e d e s i g n a t e d to b e g i v e n o v e r t i m e , w h i c h m a d e i t n e c e s s a r y to a c q u i r e r e n o v a t i o n m o n i e s t h r o u g h l o a n s f r o m t h e C i t y . T h e P a n t a g e s r e s t o r a t i o n t o o k e i g h t y e a r s t o c o m p l e t e d u e t o m a n y s e t b a c k s . T h i s m a y a c c o u n t f o r t h e a m o u n t o f p r i v a t e f u n d s t h a t w e r e e v e n t u a l l y c o l l e c t e d . A s p o i n t e d o u t i n t h e c a s e s t u d y o v e r v i e w , t h e r e w e r e n u m e r o u s p l a c e s t o a p p l y f o r f u n d i n g a t a l l l e v e l s o f g o v e r n m e n t . M u c h o f t h i s f u n d i n g r e l i e s o n t h e v o t e r w i t h r e s p e c t to b o n d i s s u e s , t h e p o l i t i c a l p a r t y i n p o w e r a t t h e t i m e , a l o n g w i t h t h e g e n e r a l s t a t e o f t h e e c o n o m y a n d o t h e r f u n d i n g p r i o r i t i e s . L o c a l i n d i v i d u a l d o n a t i o n s i n V a n c o u v e r w e r e so i n s i g n i f i c a n t a s t o b e n e g l i g i b l e . V a n c o u v e r i t e s , d e m o n s t r a t i n g t y p i c a l C a n a d i a n p o l i t i c a l b e h a v i o r , b e l i e v e d t h a t t h e l e t t e r s a n d p h o n e c a l l s to g o v e r n m e n t o f f i c i a l s w e r e s u f f i c i e n t e v i d e n c e o f s u p p o r t . C a n a d i a n s a r e " . . . l e s s i n c l i n e d to c o n t r i b u t e t o . . . f u n d a p p e a l s " ( L i p s e t 1 9 8 9 , 1 4 2 - 4 3 ) . T h e n i t w a s u p t o t h e g o v e r n m e n t to a c t . T h e c i t i z e n s o f V a n c o u v e r w e r e n o t i n t e r e s t e d i n p u r c h a s i n g t i c k e t s t o t h e m a j o r b e n e f i t c o n c e r t a n d t h e a u d i e n c e h a d t o b e " p a d d e d " i n o r d e r n o t to e m b a r r a s s t h e C i t y . T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a m a n a g e d to r a i s e a p p r o x i m a t e l y $ 8 0 0 , 0 0 0 . W h e n f i n a n c i a l p r o b l e m s d e v e l o p e d a f t e r o p e n i n g o f t h e P a n t a g e s , t h e B o a r d o f D i r e c t o r s o f t h e t h e a t r e p r o v i d e d p e r s o n a l g u a r a n t e e s a t t h e l o c a l b a n k s . T h e r e w a s e v i d e n c e o f p e r s o n a l r e s p o n s i b i l i t y t h a t w e n t b e y o n d l i p - s e r v i c e . T h e r e i s c l e a r l y a s e n s e o f p u b l i c l i f e i n A m e r i c a n c i t i e s , a n d t h e e v i d e n c e t o d a t e s u g g e s t s t h a t A m e r i c a n s a r e s i g n i f i c a n t l y m o r e l i k e l y t o b e i n v o l v e d i n c o m m u n i t y a f f a i r s t h a n C a n a d i a n s . W e i n t e r p r e t t h i s a s b e i n g c o n s i s t e n t w i t h a s t r o n g e r s e n s e o f l o c a l i s m a n d m u n i c i p a l a u t o n o m y , w h i c h i s a n e x p r e s s i o n o f a h i g h l y p r i v a t i z e d s o c i e t y ( M e r c e r 1 9 8 6 , 3 8 1 ) . I n t h e c a s e o f t h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e , t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e p r o j e c t i s d r i v e n b y t h e b u s i n e s s c o m m u n i t y , h e a d e d b y a n i m p r e s s i v e c o r p s o f l e a d e r s o f t h e a r t s a n d l o c a l b u s i n e s s a n d i n d u s t r y . T h e T a c o m a T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t p r o g r a m m e i s so w e l l - f u n d e d a n d o r g a n i z e d t h a t t h e c o m m u n i t y r e s p o n s e i s a c c e p t e d a s a " g i v e n . " E v e r y o n e w a n t s to b e a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h i s a c t i v i t y a s i t i s v i e w e d a s a p r o j e c t t h a t w i l l m a k e T a c o m a a n i m p o r t a n t c u l t u r a l c e n t r e f o r t h e P u g e t S o u n d a r e a . O n e c o u l d n o t i d e n t i f y t h i s p r o j e c t w i t h a g r a s s - r o o t s m o v e m e n t f o r t h e s e r e a s o n s . 4 . 2 . 4 M u n i c i p a l , S t a t e / P r o v i n c i a l , F e d e r a l S u p p o r t T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a w a s d r a w n s o m e w h a t r e l u c t a n t l y i n t o t h e P a n t a g e s r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t . T h e v o t i n g c o n s t i t u e n c y h a d n o t i n d i c a t e d a b u r n i n g d e s i r e f o r a c u l t u r a l a r t s c e n t r e , i t w a s a n e l e c t i o n y e a r , a n d t h e T a c o m a D o m e w a s u n d e r c o n s t r u c t i o n a n d r u n n i n g o v e r b u d g e t . L o c a l G o v e r n m e n t d i d a g r e e to p u r c h a s e t h e b u i l d i n g w i t h u r b a n d e v e l o p m e n t f u n d s p r o v i d e d b y t h e f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t . M o n e y w a s f o u n d to p r o v i d e l o a n s t o t h e P a n t a g e s C o m m i t t e e i n o r d e r to p a y o n - g o i n g r e n o v a t i o n b i l l s b e f o r e m a j o r f u n d i n g w a s i n p l a c e . T h e t h e a t r e r e q u i r e d m u n i c i p a l financial s u b s i d i z a t i o n f o r a p e r i o d o f y e a r s a f t e r t h e o p e n i n g a n d t h i s l e d t o t h e q u e s t i o n a b l e financial a r r a n g e m e n t s p r e v i o u s l y o u t l i n e d . T h e C i t y o f T a c o m a a p p e a r e d t o b e r e l u c t a n t to a s s u m e a n o n - g o i n g s u b s i d i z a t i o n s i t u a t i o n . T h e P a n t a g e s t o d a y i s i n u s e a p p r o x i m a t e l y 2 0 0 d a y s a y e a r , s i m i l a r t o t h e O r p h e u m , h o w e v e r t h e O r p h e u m i s t w i c e a s l a r g e . T h e c o m m u n i t y w a s n o t h a p p y w i t h t h e s e l l / l e a s e - b a c k a r r a n g e m e n t . I t w o u l d a p p e a r t h a t t h e r e a r e r e a s o n s f o r c l o s e l y m o n i t o r i n g v a r i o u s g o v e r n m e n t s p o n s o r e d h e r i t a g e c o n s e r v a t i o n i n c e n t i v e p r o g r a m m e s t h a t c r e a t e s i t u a t i o n s t h a t l e d t o t h e c o n v o l u t e d financial d e a l t h a t t h e C i t y o f T a c o m a w a s p a r t y t o . I t s h o u l d b e n o t e d t h a t t h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e i s d u l y p r o t e c t e d f r o m s h o r t - s i g h t e d l o c a l a d m i n i s t r a t i v e d e c i s i o n s t h r o u g h p r i v a t e p u r c h a s e a n d t h e t r u s t t h a t h a s b e e n e s t a b h s h e d t o p r o t e c t t h i s g i f t t o t h e c o m m u n i t y . T h e S t a t e o f W a s h i n g t o n p r o v i d e d f u n d s f r o m a b o n d i s s u e e a r m a r k e d f o r c u l t u r a l p r o j e c t s a n d h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n a n d t h e f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t p r o v i d e d a m a t c h i n g g r a n t e q u a l t o t h e c o m m u n i t y c o n t r i b u t i o n . T h e f e d e r a l f u n d s w e r e g r e a t l y d e p e n d e n t o n t h e g o v e r n m e n t i n o f f i c e a t t h e t i m e . I t s h o u l d b e n o t e d t h a t m u c h o f t h e i n i t i a t i v e f o r u r b a n p o l i c y i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s c o m e s f r o m t h e f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t . I t i s m o r e u s u a l i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s f o r l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t s to i g n o r e S t a t e g o v e r n m e n t a n d l o o k d i r e c t l y t o W a s h i n g t o n ( M e r c e r 1 9 8 6 , 3 8 1 ) . T h i s i s e v i d e n t i n t h e P a n t a g e s r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t a n d t h e A m e r i c a n C i t i e s P l a n , i n s t i t u t e d b y t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s g o v e r n m e n t , t h a t s t i m u l a t e d t h e m o v e t o t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f t h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e a n d t h e B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r D i s t r i c t p r o g r a m m e . W h e n t h e c i t i z e n s o f V a n c o u v e r i n d i c a t e d s u p p o r t f o r t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f t h e h i s t o r i c O r p h e u m , a m a j o r i t y o f C o u n c i l , h e a d e d b y M a y o r A r t P h i l l i p s , a c t i v e l y s u p p o r t e d t h e p r o j e c t f r o m t h e o u t s e t . T h e P r o v i n c i a l a n d F e d e r a l G o v e r n m e n t s w e r e i m m e d i a t e l y a n d d i r e c t l y a p p r o a c h e d f o r f u n d s t h r o u g h p e r s o n a l c o n t a c t w i t h d e c i s i o n m a k e r s . T h e p r e s e n t C o u n c i l h a s , i n t h e c a s e o f t h e S t a n l e y , e x p e n d e d a g r e a t d e a l o f e n e r g y p u t t i n g f o r t h a v a r i e t y o f r e a s o n s w h y t h e r e u s e p r o j e c t i s u n t e n a b l e i n t h e " f r e e - m a r k e t " e c o n o m i c e n v i r o n m e n t a n d t h a t t h e C o u n c i l c a n n o t c o n t r o l w h a t h a p p e n s w i t h i n a p r i v a t e l y o w n e d b u i l d i n g . A m e r i c a n h e r i t a g e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s m a y a c c e s s a m y r i a d o f f u n d i n g p r o g r a m m e s t h r o u g h t h e c o m p l e t i o n o f r e a m s o f p a p e r w o r k t h a t a r e so c o m p l i c a t e d t h a t i t i s s u g g e s t e d t h a t s p e c i a l c o n s u l t a n t s b e h i r e d t o a s s u r e a c c u r a t e c o m p l e t i o n . B e c a u s e n o p a r t i c u l a r h e r i t a g e f u n d i n g s y s t e m i s i n p l a c e i n C a n a d a , n o t h i n g m a y b e p o s s i b l e - b u t t h e n a g a i n , a n y t h i n g m a y b e p o s s i b l e ! T h e f l e x i b i h t y i s t h e r e . G o v e r n m e n t i n t e r v e n t i o n i s a c c e p t e d a n d e x p e c t e d . " C a n a d i a n c i t i e s a r e m o r e g o v e r n e d a n d m a n a g e d . T h e S t a t e i n t e r v e n e s i n b o t h d i r e c t a n d i n d i r e c t m a n n e r s i n t h e u r b a n e c o n o m y : a s e m p l o y e r , a s r e g u l a t o r , a s i n v e s t o r " ( M e r c e r 1 9 8 6 ) . G o v e r n m e n t r e s p o n s e a t a l l l e v e l s i s s t r a t e g i c to a n y h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t a n d t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e i s p a r t i c u l a r l y v u l n e r a b l e . T h e A m e r i c a n p o h t i c a l s i t u a t i o n i n t h e l a t e 1 9 7 0 s w a s t e n u o u s f o r h e r i t a g e , a s s y m p a t h e t i c p o l i c i e s o f t h e D e m o c r a t i c A d m i n i s t r a t i o n u n d e r C a r t e r i n 1 9 7 7 w e r e c h a n g e d b y t h e R e p u b l i c a n A d m i n i s t r a t i o n u n d e r R e a g a n f r o m 1 9 8 1 o n . T h e P a n t a g e s w a s s t r u g g l i n g f o r m o n e y f r o m 1 9 7 5 to c o m p l e t i o n i n 1 9 8 3 a n d b e y o n d . I t w a s t h e b e s t o f p o h t i c a l t i m e s f o r t h o s e t h a t w o u l d s a v e t h e O r p h e u m . N o t o n l y w a s t h e r e a s y m p a t h e t i c m u n i c i p a l g o v e r n m e n t i n p o w e r , b u t t h e r e w a s a N e w D e m o c r a t i c G o v e r n m e n t a t t h e p r o v i n c i a l l e v e l a n d a L i b e r a l g o v e r n m e n t a t t h e f e d e r a l l e v e l . A $ 6 . 4 m i l l i o n p r o j e c t w a s c o m p l e t e d i n l e s s t h a n t h r e e y e a r s , f r o m 1 9 7 4 t o 1 9 7 7 . T h e R i a l t o T h e a t r e a n d B r o a d w a y T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t C a m p a i g n r e q u i r e d f u n d i n g o f $ 8 . 4 m i l l i o n . W h a t i s s t r a t e g i c i n f o r m a t i o n w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h i s e c o n o m i c s c e n a r i o i s t h a t $ 3 m i l l i o n o f t h i s b u d g e t i s e x p e c t e d t o c o m e f r o m l o c a l s p o n s o r s o f t h e A r t s , c o r p o r a t i o n s a n d f o u n d a t i o n s a n d i n t h e final a n a l y s i s , $ 4 . 2 m i l l i o n w o u l d c o m e f r o m t h e p r i v a t e s e c t o r . C a n a d i a n u r b a n c o m m u n i t i e s c o u l d n o t e x p e c t t h i s g e n e r o u s c i v i c r e s p o n s e . T h e R e a g a n R e p u b l i c a n A d m i n i s t r a t i o n h a s p u t m o r e m o n e y i n t o t h e p o c k e t s o f t h e u p p e r - i n c o m e e a r n e r s a n d c o r p o r a t i o n s ; t h e M u l r o n e y C o n s e r v a t i v e A d m i n i s t r a t i o n h a s r e s p o n d e d i n a h k e m a n n e r . S t a t i s t i c s q u o t e d e a r l i e r i n d i c a t e t h a t w h i l e A m e r i c a n c o n t r i b u t i o n s h a v e r i s e n s t e a d i l y , C a n a d i a n c o n t r i b u t i o n s h a v e f a l l e n d u r i n g t h e s a m e t i m e p e r i o d . I f w e a r e t o s a v e o u r h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s , o u r h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s , s e n s i t i v e a n d s y m p a t h e t i c r e s p o n s e m u s t c o m e f r o m l o c a l e l e c t e d o f f i c i a l s . F u n d i n g i s a l w a y s a v a i l a b l e f o r h i g h p r i o r i t y i t e m s ; w e j u s t h a v e to h a v e o u r p r i o r i t i e s i n o r d e r a n d m a k e t h e m k n o w n to p o h t i c a l d e c i s i o n m a k e r s . C a n a d i a n c o m m u n i t y h e r i t a g e a d v o c a t e s m u s t u n d e r s t a n d t h e r e a h t i e s o f p r o j e c t f u n d i n g . V a n c o u v e r C o u n c i l m a n , F r i t z B o w e r s w a s b e i n g r e a l i s t i c w h e n h e s u g g e s t e d t h a t n e x t t i m e t h e y s h o u l d j u s t " i n c r e a s e t h e m i l l r a t e , a s i t w a s a l o t s i m p l e r . " C H A P T E R V : C O N C L U S I O N 5 . 0 C O N T E M P O R A R Y P R O B L E M S / C O N T E M P O R A R Y S O L U T I O N S 5 . 1 O v e r v i e w I n m a n y . . . w e s t e r n c i t i e s . . . s e v e r a l f a c t o r s h a v e b l u n t e d t h e h e r i t a g e m o v e m e n t . I d e a l i s m i s w a n i n g . P e o p l e w i t h k i d s a n d m o r t g a g e s d o n ' t l i e i n f r o n t o f b u l l d o z e r s . S o , t h e t a s k o f s a v i n g h e r i t a g e s t r u c t u r e s h a s b e e n l e f t to u n d e r f u n d e d , o f t e n v o l u n t e e r - r u n h e r i t a g e c o m m i t t e e s , u s u a l l y w o r k i n g a t t h e m u n i c i p a l l e v e l . B u t , too o f t e n , t h e s e c o m m i t t e e s a r e u n w i l l i n g to t a c k l e t h e r i c h a n d p o U t i c a l l y p o w e r f u l . . . t h e y find t h e m s e l v e s i n a s i t u a t i o n w h e r e t h e e n t r e n c h e d p o w e r s o f p r o p e r t y o w n e r s a n d d e v e l o p e r s , u s u a l l y s u p p o r t e d b y C a n a d a ' s v e r y c o n s e r v a t i v e c o u r t s , c a r r y m o r e c l o u t . . . t h r o u g h l o c a l b y l a w s a n d c i v i c c o n n e c t i o n s ( W o o d , 1 9 8 5 ) . C o n s i d e r i n g t h e h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s t h a t h a v e b e e n l o s t t h r o u g h o u t N o r t h A m e r i c a , e a c h h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e t h a t h a s b e e n s a v e d f o r c o m m u n i t y u s e s t a n d s a s a n e x a m p l e o f a r a t h e r u n i q u e e v e n t . T h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e a t r e , film, a n d t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e p a l a c e to N o r t h A m e r i c a n c u l t u r e h a s b e e n a r g u e d w i t h i n t h e t e x t o f t h i s t h e s i s . I t h a s b e e n s t r e s s e d t h a t a t h e a t r e i s n o t j u s t a b u i l d i n g : t h e s t r u c t u r e a n d t h e f u n c t i o n a r e a u n i f i e d w h o l e . T h e m o v i e p a l a c e h a d a n d c o n t i n u e s to h a v e a n i m p o r t a n t f u n c t i o n w i t h i n t h e c o m m u n i t y a n d t h a t i s to p r o v i d e a p l a c e f o r t h e c o m m u n i t y to c o m e t o g e t h e r to e n j o y c u l t u r a l e v e n t s . A l t h o u g h t h e r e s p o n s e to t h e l o s s o f o u r h e r i t a g e s t r u c t u r e s o r h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s m a y b e d u e t o e m o t i o n s b a s e d o n n o s t a l g i a , i t i s a p p a r e n t f r o m t h e r e s e a r c h h e r e i n , t h a t t h e c h o i c e t o r e s t o r e a n d r e u s e h i s t o r i c b u i l d i n g s m a y p r o v e t o be t h e m o s t r e s p o n s i b l e s o c i o e c o n o m i c , c u l t u r a l a n d e n v i r o n m e n t a l d e c i s i o n s a c o m m u n i t y c a n m a k e . T h i s v a l u e h a s b e e n a n d c o n t i n u e s to b e i d e n t i f i e d i n m a n y c o m m u n i t i e s . T h r e e c a s e s t u d i e s h a v e b e e n s e l e c t e d to r e v i e w a n d a n a l y z e i n o r d e r t h a t w e m a y c o m e t o u n d e r s t a n d t h e d y n a m i c s o f t h e r e s t o r a t i o n p r o c e s s f r o m a c r o s s - c u l t u r a l , i n t e r n a t i o n a l p e r s p e c t i v e . T h i s t h e s i s h a s a r g u e d f o u r i m p o r t a n t p o i n t s : 1) T h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e , d e s p i t e s o m e " b a d p r e s s , " h a s c o n t r i b u t e d g r e a t l y to t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f C a n a d i a n c u l t u r e a n d c o m m u n i t y l i f e . 2) T h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e a n d t h e m o v i n g p i c t u r e s t h a t flickered u p o n i t s s c r e e n f o r m e d a f u n c t i o n a l u n i t t h a t f u l f i l l e d a c o m m u n i t y n e e d , t h a t o f e n t e r t a i n m e n t t h a t a p p e a l e d to a l l s o c i o e c o n o m i c l e v e l s . T h e t h e a t r e i s n o t j u s t a n o t h e r b u i l d i n g ! 3) T h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e h a s e a r n e d t h e r i g h t t o b e t r e a t e d s e r i o u s l y b y p o l i t i c a l d e c i s i o n m a k e r s . T o t h a t e n d , p o h c i e s m u s t b e f o r m u l a t e d a t t h e l o c a l l e v e l t h a t r e c o g n i z e t h e e c o n o m i c a n d c u l t u r a l v a l u e o f t h e s e h i s t o r i c s t r u c t u r e s a n d t h a t f a c i h t a t e t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f t h e a t r e s f o r c o m m u n i t y c u l t u r a l a c t i v i t i e s . 4) T h e p o l i c i e s t h u s d r a w n m u s t b e b a s e d o n t h e C a n a d i a n e x p e r i e n c e . G r a s s - r o o t s a c t i v i s t s m u s t b e c o g n i z a n t o f t h e d y n a m i c s o f o u r s o c i e t y a n d o f h o w t h e a v e r a g e c i t i z e n v i e w s l o c a l a c t i o n , d e c i s i o n m a k i n g a n d " p o w e r " i n g e n e r a l . T h e i n f o r m a t i o n h e r e i n w i l l c o n t r i b u t e to t h e u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f c r o s s - c u l t u r a l a n d c r o s s - n a t i o n a l d i f f e r e n c e s i n a p p r o a c h e s to h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e p o l i c y . C o m m u n i t y a c t i v i s t s w i l l b e b e t t e r e q u i p p e d to e v a l u a t e a p p r o a c h e s t o p o l i t i c a l r e a c t i o n a n d a c t i o n ; p r o j e c t i n i t i a t i o n a n d p r o j e c t m a n a g e m e n t . T h e d e s i r e d r e s u l t w i l l b e a m o v e t o w a r d t h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t o f h e r i t a g e p o l i c i e s a t t h e l o c a l l e v e l . T h e i d e a l r e s u l t w o u l d be a s c e n a r i o t h a t w o u l d i n c l u d e a r e c o g n i t i o n b y t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r o f t h e e n o r m o u s o p p o r t u n i t i e s t h a t e x i s t i n t h e f o r m o f u n d e r - u t i l i z e d t h e a t r e s a n d a w i l l i n g n e s s to g i v e d i r e c t i o n , financial a i d , a n d e n c o u r a g e m e n t t o i n t e r e s t e d p u b l i c g r o u p s a n d t h e p r i v a t e i n v e s t m e n t c o m m u n i t y t h r o u g h e f f e c t i v e p o l i c y d i r e c t i o n . T h e a t t i t u d e s a t C i t y C o u n c i l l e v e l m u s t r e f l e c t a r e s p e c t f o r t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f e x i s t i n g s t r u c t u r e s a n d t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p b e t w e e n t h e p l a n n e r a n d t h e p r e s e r v a t i o n i s t i s a n o t h e r c r u c i a l a s p e c t o f p l a n n i n g t h a t m u s t b e r e c o g n i z e d . " H i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n a s a d i s t i n c t k i n d o f u r b a n p l a n n i n g i s r e l a t i v e l y r e c e n t i n o r i g i n . . . . T h e American P l a n n i n g A s s o c i a t i o n d i d n o t a d m i t h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n i s t s a s members u n t i l 1 9 8 0 " ( B i r c h , 3 7 ) . T r a d i t i o n a h y , " P l a n n e r s h a d r e f o r m i s t , r a t i o n a l i s t o r i g i n s , t h e p r e s e r v a t i o n i s t s h a d p a t r i o t i c , r o m a n t i c r o o t s " ( B i r c h , 3 8 ) . G r o w i n g c o o p e r a t i o n h a s h i n g e d o n c h a n g e s i n t h e t w o a g e n d a s - p l a n n e r s h a v e n a r r o w e d t h e i r f o c u s t o i n c l u d e n e i g h b o u r h o o o d p r e s e r v a t i o n a n d c o n s e r v a t i o n w h i l e p r e s e r v a t i o n i s t s h a v e b r o a d e n e d t h e i r a g e n d a s to i n c l u d e m o r e p r a c t i c a l a r g u m e n t s f o r c o n s e r v a t i o n . A d d i t i o n a l c o n c l u d i n g r e m a r k s w i l l b e d i r e c t e d to s u b s t a n t i v e q u e s t i o n s a n d a n s w e r s w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r a n d t h e f u t u r e o f t w o h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s , t h e S t a n l e y T h e a t r e a n d t h e V o g u e T h e a t r e , t h a t h a v e e l i c i t e d c o m m u n i t y r e s p o n s e , a n d t h a t a w a i t i m p o r t a n t p o l i t i c a l a n d p l a n n i n g d e c i s i o n s . I • T M A •GOOD BYE CRUELj " WORLD Good Bye Cruel World •5.2 P l a n n i n g a n d t h e H i s t o r i c M o v i e T h e a t r e " P l a n n i n g i s n o l o n g e r a p r o c e s s o f a c c o m m o d a t i n g t h e i n e v i t a b l e " ( G o o d m a n , 3 4 8 ) . P l a n n i n g s h o u l d b e c o n c e r n e d w i t h p r o c e s s a n d g o a l f o r m u l a t i o n . " G o a l s a n d o b j e c t i v e s a r e t h e c o r n e r s t o n e s o f t h e p l a n n i n g p r o c e s s , f o r , i n t h e o r y , t h e y f o r m t h e f r a m e w o r k f o r p u b l i c a n d p r i v a t e d e c i s i o n m a k i n g " ( G o o d m a n , 3 2 7 ) . A l t h o u g h i t s h o u l d n o t b e n e c e s s a r y t o p o i n t t h i s o u t , t h e r e i s a g r e a t n e e d f o r t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r to b e c o m e i n v o l v e d i n n o r m a t i v e p l a n n i n g - t h e a c t i v i t y b y w h i c h r a t i o n a l a n d r e a s o n a b l e e n d s a r e e s t a b l i s h e d a n d p o l i c y d e c i s i o n s t h a t c o n c e r n t h e s c o p e a n d c o n t e n t o f a c t i o n a r e m a d e . O f p r i m a r y i m p o r t a n c e - p l a n n i n g d e c i s i o n s m u s t b e b a s e d o n a n e s t a b l i s h e d v a l u e s y s t e m . E l e c t e d o f f i c i a l s a r e r e s p o n s i b l e f o r d e c i s i o n s t h a t e x e m p l i f y n o r m a t i v e p l a n n i n g . C o m m u n i t y g o a l s a r e e s t a b l i s h e d t h r o u g h p u b l i c i n p u t a n d a r e t h e r e s u l t o f c o m p r o m i s e . P l a n n i n g , f o r t h e m o s t p a r t a n d u n f o r t u n a t e l y , i s t o o o f t e n a p o l i t i c a l r e s p o n s e d u e t o p u b l i c p r e s s u r e . S h o r t - t e r m g o a l a c h i e v e m e n t i s t h e r e s u l t . T h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e i s a p e r f e c t e x a m p l e o f t h i s a p p r o a c h to h e r i t a g e p l a n n i n g . O n e s u c c e s s f u l r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t d o e s n o t g u a r a n t e e o t h e r s u c c e s s f u l h e r i t a g e p r o j e c t s b e c a u s e o f t h e v a g a r i e s o f t i m e a n d c i r c u m s t a n c e , t h e e b b a n d flow o f i n f l u e n c e a n d i n t e r e s t a t a l l l e v e l s o f p o w e r a n d d e c i s i o n m a k i n g . 5 . 3 P l a n n e r s a n d H e r i t a g e R e s o u r c e P r e s e r v a t i o n W h i l e o n e m a y l o o k to h e r i t a g e p l a n n e r s f o r d i r e c t i o n w h e n f a c e d w i t h p r o b l e m s o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e o r h i s t o r i c d i s t r i c t r e s t o r a t i o n , h e r i t a g e p l a n n e r s h a v e a U m i t e d m a n d a t e . T h e y a r e t o m a i n t a i n t h e h e r i t a g e i n v e n t o r i e s , b e a w a r e o f t h e c i t y ' s h i s t o r i c r e s o u r c e s a n d p o l i c i e s , t o g e t h e r w i t h p o l i c i e s o f t h e p r o v i n c i a l a n d t h e f e d e r a l g o v e r n m e n t s , a n d a c t a s l i a i s o n p e r s o n s b e t w e e n t h e C i t y a n d v a r i o u s i n t e r e s t g r o u p s , l o c a l c i t i z e n r y a n d a h l e v e l s o f g o v e r n m e n t . H e r i t a g e p l a n n e r s a r e i n t h e f o r e f r o n t o f a l l a t t e m p t s to r e s p o n d t o n e w p r o v i n c i a l l e g i s l a t i o n a s w e l l a s t h e f o r m u l a t i o n o f n e w m u n i c i p a l p o l i c i e s a n d a p p r o a c h e s to h e r i t a g e i s s u e s . " A n i m p o r t a n t a s p e c t o f t h e i r r o l e i s e d u c a t i n g t h e p u b l i c a n d p r i v a t e s e c t o r w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e o p p o r t u n i t i e s o f h e r i t a g e p r e s e r v a t i o n i n g e n e r a l a n d i n f o r m i n g t h e m o f s p e c i f i c p r o g r a m s w h i c h c o u l d h e l p r e a l i z e t h o s e o p p o r t u n i t i e s " ( L a z e a r , 3 ) . I f p o l i t i c i a n s a r e t o b e i n f l u e n c e d i t i s o b v i o u s t h a t t h e c i t i z e n r y m u s t b e e n c o u r a g e d to v a l u e h i s t o r i c s t r u c t u r e s a n d a r e a s t h a t r e p r e s e n t t h e c u l t u r a l b a s e o f t h e i r c o m m u n i t i e s . S t r a t e g i c t o t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f p o l i c i e s t h a t w i l l a f f e c t t h e a p p r e c i a t i o n , r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s a s w e l l a s o t h e r u n i q u e p h y s i c a l r e s o u r c e s , i s a n a c t i v e p u b l i c i n f o r m a t i o n a n d e d u c a t i o n p r o g r a m m e t h a t s h o u l d s t a r t w i t h i n t h e s c h o o l c u r r i c u l u m . W h a t m u s t n o t b e f o r g o t t e n i s t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e i n d i v i d u a l i n t h e g r a n d s c h e m e o f t h i n g s . " T h e o r i g i n o f s o c i a l c h a n g e u s u a l l y s t a r t s f r o m t h e a c t o r i n s i g h t o f a n i n d i v i d u a l , a n a r t i s t , a s a i n t , a t i n k e r e r , a n a n g r y h o u s e w i f e , a r a d i c a l s t u d e n t " ( K e n n a r d , 9 2 ) . T h e n t h e i n e v i t a b l e w i l l h a p p e n . " T o d e m o n s t r a t e j u s t h o w g o o d t h e y a r e a t l e a d i n g , p o l i t i c i a n s w i l l j u m p i n f r o n t o f w h a t e v e r c r o w d i s m a r c h i n g a n d p r o c e e d to l e a d i t " ( K e n n a r d , 9 4 ) . O n a l e s s e m o t i o n a l p l a n e i t h a s b e e n a r g u e d t h a t t h e c i t i z e n s o f N o r t h A m e r i c a n c o m m u n i t i e s m u s t r e c o g n i z e t h e e c o n o m i c r e a l i t i e s o f t h e 2 1 s t C e n t u r y . A m e r i c a n c i t i e s w i l l n e v e r g e t t h e i r f a c t o r i e s b a c k . T h e y m u s t c h a n g e t h e i r r a i s o n d ' e t r e f r o m m a n u f a c t u r i n g t o m a n a g e m e n t a n d c u l t u r e . . . . I d e a l l y , t h e r e i s a d i r e c t o r o f c u l t u r a l a f f a i r s o n t h e s a m e b u r e a u c r a t i c l e v e l a s t h e d i r e c t o r o f h i g h w a y s o r s a n i t a t i o n ( V o n E c k a r d t , 9 5 ) . B e c a u s e C a n a d i a n s h a v e m a n d a t e d g o v e r n m e n t s t o e n s u r e c o m m o n i n t e r e s t s a r e p r o t e c t e d , t h e t i m e h a s c o m e f o r h e r i t a g e p l a n n e r s , a n d a l l p l a n n e r s , t o r e c o g n i z e t h e r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s t h e y h a v e t o h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e i d e n t i f i c a t i o n , r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e a n d a p p r o p r i a t e i n c e n t i v e m e c h a n i s m s ( A p p e n d i x B ) . R e c o m m e n d a t i o n s a n d t h e r e s u l t i n g i m p l e m e n t a t i o n p o l i c i e s m u s t b e r e v i e w e d a n d a d o p t e d b y C o u n c i l i n o r d e r to p r o v i d e d i r e c t i o n a n d s u p p o r t to t h o s e w h o w i s h to i n v e s t i n t h e a r e a u n d e r r e v i e w . W h e n C i t y C o u n c i l p r o v i d e s p o l i c y d i r e c t i o n w i t h r e s p e c t t o d e v e l o p m e n t e x p e c t a t i o n s a n d a s s u r a n c e s o f m u n i c i p a l c o o p e r a t i o n , p r i v a t e i n v e s t m e n t i s s t i m u l a t e d , p r o p e r t y v a l u e s i n c r e a s e , a n d t h e a r e a b e c o m e s o f i n t e r e s t to l o c a l s a n d t o u r i s t s . 5 . 4 P o l i c i e s P l a n n i n g a n d t h e H i s t o r i c T h e a t r e P o h c i e s p l a n n i n g , w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e r e m a i n i n g h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s , w o u l d i n c l u d e a s e t o f g e n e r a l s t a t e m e n t s t h a t d e f i n e t h e d i r e c t i o n a n d c h a r a c t e r o f a c t i o n s n e c e s s a r y t o a c h i e v e d e s i r e d o u t c o m e s - t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s . T h e m o s t e s s e n t i a l a s p e c t o f p o l i c y p l a n n i n g i s t h a t t h e p u b l i c i s i n v o l v e d i n t h e f o r m u l a t i o n o f t h e g o a l s . A s e t o f p o h c y s t a t e m e n t s s e t f o r t h p r i n c i p l e s o r p r e c e p t s t h a t a c t a s a g u i d e f o r t h o s e w h o w i s h to m a k e d e v e l o p m e n t p r o p o s a l s . " A d o p t i o n o f t h e ' p o l i c i e s p l a n ' . . . d o e s c o m m i t t h e c i t y to t a k e a c t i o n s , w h a t e v e r t h e y m a y b e , t h a t a r e c o n s i s t e n t w i t h t h e p o l i c y g u i d e l i n e s " ( G o o d m a n , 3 3 1 ) . P l a n n i n g , t h e r e f o r e , b e c o m e s m o r e a c t i o n o r i e n t e d . " T h e p o l i c i e s p l a n n i n g p r o c e s s e n a b l e s e l e c t e d o f f i c i a l s to s p e c i f y , i n p r i n c i p l e , w h a t t h e y a s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s o f t h e c o m m u n i t y w a n t . . . . C o u n c i l c a n e v a l u a t e s p e c i f i c p r o p o s a l s i n l i g h t o f i t s p r e v i o u s l y a d o p t e d s t a t e m e n t s o f p o l i c y " ( G o o d m a n , 3 3 3 ) . 5 . 5 P o l i c y O p t i o n s a n d t h e H i s t o r i c T h e a t r e T h e H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n A c t ( 1 9 7 7 ) i s t h e p r i n c i p a l l e g i s l a t i o n d i r e c t l y r e l a t e d to t h e p r o t e c t i o n o f h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s w i t h i n t h e P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . I n o r d e r to c r e a t e h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n t h a t w o u l d b e m o r e e f f e c t i v e , t h e M i n i s t r y o f M u n i c i p a l A f f a i r s , R e c r e a t i o n a n d C u l t u r e f o r t h e P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a p r o d u c e d A White Paper for Public Review r e g a r d i n g h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n i n M a r c h o f 1 9 9 1 . T h i s s t u d y w a s p r o m i s e d i n t h e 1 9 9 0 T h r o n e S p e e c h . P r o p o s e d a m e n d m e n t s t o t h e M u n i c i p a l A c t w i l l e n a b l e l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t s ( i n c l u d i n g r e g i o n a l d i s t r i c t s ) to u s e a v a r i e t y o f t o o l s f o r t h e c o n s e r v a t i o n o f c o m m u n i t y h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s i n B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . A m e n d m e n t s a p p l y i n g to V a n c o u v e r w i h b e i n c o r p o r a t e d i n t h e V a n c o u v e r C h a r t e r ( B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , 1 9 9 1 ) . A v a r i e t y o f i n c e n t i v e p o l i c i e s w i t h r e s p e c t t o h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e h a v e b e e n a d o p t e d b y v a r i o u s m u n i c i p a l g o v e r n m e n t s a c r o s s C a n a d a ( L a z e a r , 1 9 8 1 ) ( S e e A p p e n d i x C ) . T h e r e i s l i t t l e a m u n i c i p a l i t y m a y do i n t e r m s o f t h e p r o t e c t i o n o f h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s w i t h o u t a c l e a r l e g i s l a t e d m a n d a t e f r o m t h e P r o v i n c i a l g o v e r n m e n t . U n t i l t h a t m a n d a t e e x i s t s a c i t y c a n n o t : . p r o h i b i t , r e f u s e o r u n d u l y d e l a y d e m o l i t i o n o n t h e b a s i s o f h e r i t a g e c o n s i d e r a t i o n s ; . d e s i g n a t e , a n d b y t h a t d e s i g n a t i o n , p r o t e c t t h e c i t i e s s t o c k o f h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s ; o r . i m p o s e s u b s t a n t i a l p e n a l t i e s f o r t h e d e m o l i t i o n o r a l t e r a t i o n o f h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s . T h e M u n i c i p a l A c t o f t h e P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a ( 1 9 9 0 ) R S C h a p t e r 2 9 0 , 5 7 0 , g i v e s C o u n c i l t h e p o w e r t o e x p r o p r i a t e p r o p e r t y w i t h i n t h e m u n i c i p a l i t y f o r m u n i c i p a l p u r p o s e s . V a n c o u v e r C i t y C o u n c i l w a s w i l l i n g to do t h i s i n t h e c a s e o f t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e . S e c t i o n 9 4 5 a l l o w s t h e m u n i c i p a l i t y t h e p o w e r to d e s i g n a t e a r e a s i n o r d e r t o p r o t e c t h e r i t a g e s i t e s , o r f a c i h t a t e t h e r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f a r e a s w h e r e c o m m e r c i a l u s e s a r e p e r m i t t e d . T h i s p o w e r w a s u s e d i n t h e G a s t o w n r e v i t a l i z a t i o n p r o j e c t a n d i n C h i n a t o w n . S e c t i o n 9 7 6 g i v e s C o u n c i l t h e p o w e r o v e r d e v e l o p m e n t p e r m i t a p p r o v a l s i n t h e s e s p e c i a l a r e a s . C o m m u n i t i e s a r e s t r o n g l y e n c o u r a g e d to d e v e l o p a l o n g - t e r m m a n a g e m e n t p l a n f o r h e r i t a g e c o n s e r v a t i o n . T h e p r o p o s e d c h a n g e s to l e g i s l a t i o n w i l l p r o v i d e l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t s w i t h n e w o p p o r t u n i t i e s f o r h e r i t a g e p l a n n i n g . T h e d o c u m e n t . Heritage Legislation, A Guide to Community Heritage Conservation, s t a t e s t h a t t h e c o m m u n i t y w i l l be a b l e to i d e n t i f y l o n g t e r m v i s i o n f o r t h e m a n a g e m e n t o f t h e i r h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s , a n d i n t e g r a t e t h i s v i s i o n i n t o c o m m u n i t y p o l i c y d o c u m e n t s s u c h a s t h e O f f i c i a l C o m m u n i t y P l a n . I t w i l l h a v e t h e n e c e s s a r y t o o l s s u c h a s d e v e l o p m e n t p e r m i t s a n d h e r i t a g e r e v i t a l i z a t i o n a g r e e m e n t s w i t h w h i c h to r e a l i z e t h e i r h e r i t a g e m a n a g e m e n t g o a l s ( B . C . 1 9 9 1 , 2). The White Paper e n c o u r a g e s m u n i c i p a h t i e s to d e v e l o p a s t r o n g Official Community Plan t h a t i n c l u d e s h e r i t a g e c o n s e r v a t i o n g o a l s a n d o b j e c t i v e s , p o l i c i e s a n d s t a n d a r d s f o r s e l e c t i n g a n d a s s e s s i n g r e s o u r c e s , a n d h e r i t a g e d e v e l o p m e n t p e r m i t s i t e s a n d a r e a s . T h e p r o p o s e d l e g i s l a t i o n b r o a d e n s p o s s i b l e a c t i v i t i e s o f t h e m u n i c i p a l i t y to a l l o w t h e m t o : . i m p l e m e n t p r o g r a m s . r a i s e f u n d s . p r e p a r e a p p l i c a t i o n s a n d r e p o r t s . a c t i v e l y p r o m o t e p r o j e c t s . i n c r e a s e p u b l i c a w a r e n e s s . 5 . 6 W h i t e P a p e r H e r i t a g e P o h c y D r a f t P r o p o s a l s P o l i c y o p t i o n s t h a t r e l a t e to t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s o n G r a n v i l l e M a h a r e s e t o u t b e l o w a c c o r d i n g t o t h e c h a n g e s c o n t a i n e d i n t h e H e r i t a g e P o h c y W h i t e P a p e r a s d e v e l o p e d b y t h e f o r m e r S o c i a l C r e d i t g o v e r n m e n t a n d p r e s e n t l y u n d e r c o n s i d e r a t i o n b y t h e c u r r e n t N e w D e m o c r a t i c P a r t y g o v e r n m e n t i n V i c t o r i a . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r l e g a l d e p a r t m e n t i s a t p r e s e n t p r e p a r i n g V a n c o u v e r C h a r t e r a m e n d m e n t s t h a t w i l l a c c o m m o d a t e t h e W h i t e P a p e r a m e n d m e n t s w h e n t h e s e a r e finally a p p r o v e d . 1) T h e e s t a b h s h m e n t o f h e r i t a g e c o n s e r v a t i o n g o a l s a n d o b j e c t i v e s w i t h i n t h e O f f i c i a l C o m m u n i t y P l a n a r e s t r e s s e d . 2) T h e i d e n t i f i c a t i o n a n d e s t a b h s h m e n t o f s p e c i a l h e r i t a g e c o n s e r v a t i o n d e v e l o p m e n t p e r m i t a r e a s w i t h d e s i g n g u i d e l i n e s w i t h i n t h e C o m m u n i t y P l a n a r e e n c o u r a g e d . 3) T h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t o f l o c a l i m p r o v e m e n t o r b u s i n e s s a r e a s t o f a c i l i t a t e c o n s e r v a t i o n a n d r e h a b i l i t a t i o n o f h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s a r e e n c o u r a g e d . E s t a b h s h m e n t o f L . I . A . m a k e s i t p o s s i b l e to l e v y f u n d s t h a t a r e t h e n u s e d t o c o n s e r v e p u b l i c h e r i t a g e p r o p e r t y . 4) D i r e c t l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t financial a s s i s t a n c e to p r i v a t e p r o p e r t y o w n e r s i s a l l o w e d to e n c o u r a g e h i s t o r i c c o n s e r v a t i o n . 5) T a x e x e m p t i o n s f o r u p to a 1 0 - y e a r p e r i o d f o r r e s t o r a t i o n p r o j e c t s w i t h i n h e r i t a g e d e v e l o p m e n t p e r m i t a r e a s ; d e s i g n a t e d s i t e s ; b u i l d i n g s h o l d i n g a c o n s e r v a t i o n c o v e n a n t ; o r t h o s e h a v i n g a r e v i t a l i z a t i o n a g r e e m e n t . 6) T h e c r e a t i o n o f a d e v e l o p m e n t p e r m i t a r e a i s n o t c o n t i n g e n t o n t h e h e r i t a g e d e s i g n a t i o n o f a n y p r o p e r t i e s i n t h e a r e a a n d a p p l i e s to a l l t y p e s o f u s e s . 7) L o c a l g o v e r n m e n t h e r i t a g e d e s i g n a t i o n m a y a p p l y , to b u i l d i n g s , l a n d , l a n d s c a p e , f e a t u r e s , a n d b u i l d i n g e x t e r i o r s a n d i n t e r i o r s . 8) H e r i t a g e r e v i t a l i z a t i o n a g r e e m e n t s a l l o w f o r v a r i a n c e s to l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t r e g u l a t i o n s i n c l u d i n g s i t i n g , u s e a n d d e n s i t y . 9) T h e m u n i c i p a l g o v e r n m e n t m a y n e g o t i a t e d i r e c t l y w i t h p r o p e r t y o w n e r s . 10) H e r i t a g e i m p a c t a s s e s s m e n t w i t h r e s p e c t t o p r o p o s e d n e w d e v e l o p m e n t s a n d p r o p e r t y t h a t i s d e s i g n a t e d , i n a s p e c i a l d e v e l o p m e n t p e r m i t a r e a , o r p r o t e c t e d u n d e r t h e H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n A c t . O t h e r l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t s u p p o r t i n c l u d e d i n t h e " W h i t e P a p e r " i s t h e a b i l i t y t o c o o r d i n a t e p r o g r a m m e s ; f u n d i n g o f n o n - p r o f i t c o m m u n i t y h e r i t a g e s o c i e t i e s ; g o v e r n m e n t s t a f f a s s i s t a n c e t o h e r i t a g e s o c i e t i e s ; r e s e a r c h a n d i n f o r m a t i o n a i d ; d e s i g n a s s e s s m e n t ; g r a p h i c s ; s i g n a g e a n d i n t e r p r e t a t i o n ; e v e n t s p o n s o r s h i p ; m a r k e t i n g a n d p r o m o t i o n . P r e v i o u s l e g i s l a t i o n d i d n o t a l l o w t h e m u n i c i p a l g o v e r n m e n t t o b e c o m e i n v o l v e d i n t h e " b u s i n e s s o f h e r i t a g e . " P r o p o s e d l e g i s l a t i o n a l s o a l l o w s l o c a l g o v e r n m e n t t o u t i l i z e t h e i n j u n c t i o n p r o c e s s to p r o t e c t h e r i t a g e p r o p e r t y , e s t a b l i s h a s y s t e m o f p e n a l t i e s a n d f i n e s , s e t m a i n t e n a n c e s t a n d a r d s a n d e n f o r c e t h o s e s t a n d a r d s . W i t h r e s p e c t t o a c q u i s i t i o n a n d e x p r o p r i a t i o n , p r o p o s e d l e g i s l a t i o n w o u l d a l l o w t h e m u n i c i p a h t y to i d e n t i f y h e r i t a g e c o n s e r v a t i o n a s a " p u b h c p u r p o s e " t h e r e b y e n a b l i n g e x p r o p r i a t i o n to b e u s e d . L o c a l g o v e r n m e n t i s a l s o e n c o u r a g e d to d i r e c t l y c o n s e r v e h e r i t a g e p r o p e r t y t h r o u g h a c q u i s i t i o n . N o w i s t h e t i m e f o r t h e a d m i n i s t r a t i o n o f t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r t o a c t i v e l y p r e s s t h e N e w D e m o c r a t i c P a r t y to m a k e t h e White Paper on Heritage Legislation a p r i o r i t y i t e m , to e n c o u r a g e a r a p i d p a s s i n g o f t h e l e g i s l a t i o n n e c e s s a r y i n o r d e r to g i v e m u n i c i p a l g o v e r n m e n t s a d d i t i o n a l p o w e r a n d e n c o u r a g e m e n t t o d e a l w i t h h e r i t a g e r e s o u r c e s . N e w h e r i t a g e l e g i s l a t i o n i s r e q u i r e d to f a c i l i t a t e c h a n g e , h o w e v e r , a s J a c q u e s D a l i b a r d , E x e c u t i v e D i r e c t o r o f Canadian Heritage, s t a t e s : L a w s a r e n o t e n o u g h . . . . T h e q u i c k f i x p r e s e r v a t i o n l a w s o f t h e 1 9 7 0 s w e r e c l e a r l y n o t e n o u g h t o r e c h a n n e l t h e f o r c e s o f d e v e l o p m e n t . . . . I t n e e d s b e h i n d i t a n e q u a l l y c o m p l e x s y s t e m . T h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f p r o v i n c i a l a n d m u n i c i p a l o r g a n i z a t i o n s ; t h e f o u n d i n g o f h e r i t a g e g r o u p s ; t h e c o m m i t m e n t o f s e n s i t i v e d e v e l o p e r s a n d c o n t r a c t o r s ; t h e o f f e r i n g o f p r e s e r v a t i o n t r a i n i n g c o u r s e s ; t h e a v a i l a b i l i t y o f p r o p e r b u i l d i n g m a t e r i a l ; t h e i n v o l v e m e n t o f p l a n n e r s ; t h e b a c k i n g o f m u n i c i p a l p o l i t i c i a n s ; t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f f i n a n c i a l i n c e n t i v e s ; a n d , m o r e i m p o r t a n t t h a n a n y l a w , a w h o l e s a l e c h a n g e o f p u b l i c a t t i t u d e ( D a l i b a r d , 1 9 8 6 ) . G r a n v i l l e M a l l , v i e w t o w a r d R o b s o n S t r e e t . VA I I - A t . ^ o ^ s o M i ^rr f 1 Wt>6,ue G r a n v i l l e M a l l H i s t o r i c T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t . 5 . 7 R e d e v e l o p m e n t A r e a P o l i c i e s P l a n f o r G r a n v i l l e M a l l T h e G r a n v i l l e M a l l b e t w e e n R o b s o n a n d N e l s o n S t r e e t s p r e s e n t s o n g o i n g p l a n n i n g p r o b l e m s to t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r . T h i s i s t h e a r e a t h a t w a s o n c e t h e " g r e a t w h i t e w a y " o f e n t e r t a i n m e n t i n t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r . I t h a s e v o l v e d i n t o a n a r e a o f m a r g i n a l b u s i n e s s e s , d r e a r y s t o r e f r o n t s , l o i t e r e r s , d r u g d e a l e r s , p a n h a n d l e r s , s t r e e t p e o p l e , m o v i e t h e a t r e s , a n d d a r k t h e a t r e m a r q u e e s . T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e ' s h i s t o r i c e n t r a n c e h a s t h e m i s f o r t u n e o f o p e n i n g o n t o t h i s m o t l e y e n v i r o n m e n t . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r h a s d e v o t e d a n i n o r d i n a t e a m o u n t o f t i m e , e f f o r t , a n d m o n e y i n a n a t t e m p t to a d d r e s s t h e p r o b l e m s o f t h i s a r e a . T h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t o f a s p e c i a l e n t e r t a i n m e n t d i s t r i c t i n t h i s t w o b l o c k a r e a , u s i n g t h e O r p h e u m a n d t h e r e s t o r e d V o g u e a s a n c h o r t h e a t r e s a s h a s b e e n d o n e i n T a c o m a a n d i s b e i n g d o n e t h r o u g h o u t N o r t h A m e r i c a , w o u l d a p p e a r s t r a t e g i c . H o w e v e r , t h e r e i s l i t t l e e v i d e n c e o f t h e p o h t i c a l w i l l t h a t i s r e q u i r e d i n o r d e r f o r t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f p o l i c y t h a t w o u l d e f f e c t i v e l y m a k e p o s i t i v e c h a n g e s to t h i s h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t . M a n y s t u d i e s h a v e b e e n c o m m i s s i o n e d b y t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r , The Granville Street Built-Form Study, The Downtown South Urban Study a n d the Granville Street Study. U n f o r t u n a t e l y t h e s e r e p o r t s r e f l e c t a c o m m o n v i s i o n . T h e f a c t t h a t t h e a r e a h e r e i n u n d e r r e v i e w - t h e b l o c k s b e t w e e n R o b s o n a n d N e l s o n - i s a n h i s t o r i c e n t e r t a i n m e n t d i s t r i c t i s o n l y o f p a s s i n g i n t e r e s t a n d i s v i e w e d , f o r t h e m o s t p a r t , a s a n u i s a n c e t o b e c o n t a i n e d r a t h e r t h a n a a r e a o f o p p o r t u n i t y . T h i s s t u d y h a s s t r e s s e d t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e f r o m a n h i s t o r i c a l , a n d s o m e w h a t " r o m a n t i c " s t a n c e . A n a t t e m p t h a s a l s o b e e n m a d e t o e x a m i n e t h e p r o b l e m s o f t h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s f o r c o m m u n i t y u s e f r o m a p r a c t i c a l p o i n t o f v i e w . W h a t h a s b e e n e m p h a s i z e d i s t h a t w e m u s t d i s c o v e r o u r o w n s o l u t i o n s t o t h e p r o b l e m s o f h e r i t a g e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e b e c a u s e w e do h a v e a u n i q u e c u l t u r e , a d e r i v a t i v e o f B r i t i s h a n d A m e r i c a n s o c i o e c o n o m i c a n d p o l i t i c a l i n f l u e n c e s . N o t w i t h s t a n d i n g t h e i n f l u e n c e o u r c u l t u r a l r o o t s h a v e o n o u r c o m m u n a l p s y c h e , t h e 1 9 9 0 s m a y b e r e m e m b e r e d a s a d e c a d e w h e n t h e q u e s t i o n s o f c o n s e r v a t i o n a n d r e c y c l i n g o f n o n - r e n e w a b l e r e s o u r c e s f i n a l l y h a d t o b e d e a l t w i t h d u e t o t h e d e m a n d s o f c o n c e r n e d c i t i z e n s . R e c y c l i n g o f b u i l d i n g s i s p a r t o f t h i s p r o c e s s . A l t h o u g h t h e i d e a h s m o f t h e l a t e 1 9 6 0 s a n d 1 9 7 0 s h a s w a n e d d u e to t i m e a n d c i r c u m s t a n c e - e c o n o m i c g r e e d f o l l o w e d b y e c o n o m i c r e c e s s i o n - t h e c o n s e r v a t i o n c o n s c i o u s n e s s o f t h e 1 9 9 0 s m a y s e r v e t o s a v e o u r f e w r e m a i n i n g i m p o r t a n t h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s . T h e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s m a k e s e c o n o m i c s e n s e . C a s e S t u d i e s p r e s e n t e d a t t h e N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n c o n f e r e n c e o n t h e " E c o n o m i c B e n e f i t s o f P r e s e r v i n g O l d B u i l d i n g s " d e m o n s t r a t e d t h a t t h e c o s t o f r e h a b i l i t a t i n g o l d s t r u c t u r e s g e n e r a l l y r u n s 2 5 to 3 3 p e r c e n t l e s s t h a n c o m p a r a b l e n e w c o n s t r u c t i o n . I n t h o s e c a s e s w h e r e t h e c o s t s a r e e q u i v a l e n t , t h e p r e s e r v a t i o n p r o j e c t p r o v i d e d g r e a t e r a m e n i t i e s - t i m e s a v e d i n c o n s t r u c t i o n , m o r e s p a c e i n e i t h e r h e i g h t o r v o l u m e , o r t h e r i g h t l o c a t i o n . . . . T h e c o s t o f r e h a b i l i t a t i n g t h e P i o n e e r B u i l d i n g i n S e a t t l e w a s l e s s t h a n $ 1 9 p e r s q u a r e f e e t c o m p a r e d to m o r e t h a n $ 3 0 f o r n e w c o n s t r u c t i o n o f s i m i l a r q u a l i t y ( W i l l i a m s , 8 0 ) . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r p l a n n i n g d e p a r t m e n t i s a t p r e s e n t w r i t i n g a r e p o r t w i t h r e s p e c t to D o w n t o w n S o u t h t h a t w i l l b e p r e s e n t e d to C o u n c i l i n t h e S u m m e r o f 1 9 9 2 . O p t i o n s f o r m u l a t e d w i l l i n c l u d e t h e f o l l o w i n g c h o i c e s : 1) L e a v e G r a n v i l l e M a l l a s i s 2) E l i m i n a t e t h e h o u s i n g c o m p o n e n t 3) E h m i n a t e t h e e n t e r t a i n m e n t c o m p o n e n t 4) D i v i d e t h e a r e a i n t o t w o a p p r o p r i a t e p a r t s . U n f o r t u n a t e l y , t h e p r e v a i l i n g a t t i t u d e s t h a t f l o u r i s h w i t h i n t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r a p p e a r n o t to b o d e w e l l f o r t h e f u t u r e o f t h e r e m a i n i n g h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r h a s m a d e t w o q u e s t i o n a b l e p l a n n i n g d e c i s i o n s . T h e f i r s t u n f o r t u n a t e d e c i s i o n h a s t o do w i t h t h e f a t e o f G r a n v i l l e M a l l b e t w e e n R o b s o n a n d N e l s o n S t r e e t s . T h e s e c o n d h a s to do w i t h t h e p r o v i s i o n o f a m e d i u m s i z e d t h e a t r e w i t h i n t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r . W h e n f a c e d w i t h t h e p r o b l e m s o f G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t M a h , b a s i c a l l y s t i l l a n e n t e r t a i n m e n t a r e a c o n t a i n i n g t h e C o m m o d o r e B a l l r o o m , T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e , 1 5 m o v i e s c r e e n s a n d c l u b s s u c h a s t h e R o x y , a n i n o r d i n a t e a m o u n t o f e n e r g y h a s b e e n d e v o t e d to t h e s t u d y o f m i d d l e a n d l o w - i n c o m e h o u s i n g d e v e l o p m e n t a n d r e t a i l u p - g r a d i n g . G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t h a s h i s t o r i c a l s i g n i f i c a n c e a s a k e y e n t r a n c e t o d o w n t o w n V a n c o u v e r . A n e x p a n d i n g e n t e r t a i n m e n t d i s t r i c t a n d T h e a t r e r o w i s e s t a b l i s h e d i n s e v e r a l b l o c k s n e a r R o b s o n w h e r e l o w - s c a l e r e d e v e l o p m e n t i s o c c u r r i n g . A s D o w n t o w n S o u t h i s t r a n s f o r m e d i n t o a h i g h - d e n s i t y r e s i d e n t i a l a r e a w i t h p e o p l e l i v i n g o n s u r r o u n d i n g s t r e e t s , p o r t i o n s o f G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t w i l l b e c o m e t h e f o c u s f o r r e t a i l a c t i v i t y f o r r e s i d e n t s a n d n e a r b y w o r k e r s ( V a n c o u v e r , C h a n d l e r , 1 9 9 0 ) . L i t t l e r e c o g n i t i o n i s m a d e o f t h e p o s i t i v e s o c i a l a n d e c o n o m i c i n f l u e n c e s t h a t w o u l d o c c u r t h r o u g h t h e a d o p t i o n o f p o h c i e s t h a t e n c o u r a g e t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e e n t e r t a i n m e n t a n d t h e a t r e c o m p o n e n t s o f G r a n v i l l e M a l l - t h e a c c o m p a n y i n g d e m a n d s o f t h e a t r e g o e r s a n d t o u r i s t s t h a t w o u l d i n c r e a s i n g l y f r e q u e n t t h e a r e a . O v e r t i m e t h e v a c u u m t h a t n o w a t t r a c t s u n d e s i r a b l e e l e m e n t s w o u l d n o l o n g e r e x i s t . The Chandler Report a p p e a r s t o b e u n a w a r e o f t h e d y n a m i c s o f t h e a r e a a s i t s t a t e s : T h e m a j o r c o m p o n e n t t h a t i s l a c k i n g a r o u n d G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t i s a l a r g e n u m b e r o f p o t e n t i a l c u s t o m e r s w i t h a s i g n i f i c a n t a m o u n t o f d i s p o s a b l e i n c o m e . . . T h e m o s t l i k e l y s o u r c e f o r t h e s e n e w c u s t o m e r s i s t h e l o c a l m a r k e t w h i c h i s b a s e d o n t h e r e - d e v e l o p m e n t o f D o w n t o w n S o u t h ( C h a n d l e r , 1 2 ) . T h i s m o v e t o w a r d r e s i d e n t i a l d e v e l o p m e n t i l l u s t r a t e s a t y p i c a l b u t i l l - c o n c e i v e d a p p r o a c h to p r o b l e m s o l v i n g i n d e p r e s s e d u r b a n a r e a s . R e a l e s t a t e v a l u e s a r e f a i r l y l o w , t h e r e f o r e l o w - i n c o m e h o u s i n g i s c o n s i d e r e d t o b e t h e m o s t v i a b l e o p t i o n . R e s i d e n t i a l d e v e l o p m e n t a n d e n t e r t a i n m e n t d i s t r i c t s do n o t c o e x i s t w e l l a s c o m p a t i b l e u s e s . T h i s f a c t i s f u l l y a p p r e c i a t e d b y t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r p l a n n i n g d e p a r t m e n t . Downtown South: Towards a New Neighbourhoood, a b r i e f i n g p a p e r , p o s e s t h e q u e s t i o n " W i l l t h e e x i s t i n g n i g h t - l i f e a n d s o c i a l e n v i r o n m e n t h a m p e r d e v e l o p m e n t o f a n e w n e i g h b o u r h o o d ? " The Province, J u n e 4 , 1 9 9 2 , r e p o r t s : C i t y C o u n c i l h a s s l a p p e d a t e m p o r a r y m o r a t o r i u m o n a p p l i c a t i o n s o r a m e n d m e n t s t o i n c r e a s e s e a t i n g o r c h a n g e o p e r a t i n g h o u r s f o r c a b a r e t s . . . i n t h e d o w n t o w n - s o u t h a r e a . . . t h e r e a r e p r o b l e m s w i t h n o i s y c l u b p a t r o n s . . . . T h e d o w n t o w n s o u t h i s d e s t i n e d to b e a f a r m o r e r e s i d e n t i a l a r e a t h a n i t i s n o w . O n e i s , u n f o r t u n a t e l y , l e d t o b e h e v e t h a t t h e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t w i l l c o n t i n u e t o b e o v e r l o o k e d a s a n i m p o r t a n t h i s t o r i c a n d e c o n o m i c r e s o u r c e to t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r . P r o b l e m s w i l l e s c a l a t e i n t h e G r a n v i l l e M a l l a r e a b e c a u s e o f d e c i s i o n s to m a k e s h o r t - t e r m s o c i a l a n d p o l i t i c a l g a i n s . T h e f a t e o f t h e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t o n G r a n v i l l e M a l l w i l l d e p e n d o n t h e a b i l i t y o f C o u n c i l t o r e c o g n i z e t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s a s d e v e l o p m e n t a n c h o r s , r a t h e r t h a n a s " a f t e r - t h o u g h t s " i n t h e r e d e v e l o p m e n t p l a n . T h e c i t i z e n s o f t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r w i l l h a v e t h e m e d i u m - s i z e d t h e a t r e c o m p l e x t h a t i s n e e d e d h o w e v e r i t w i l l n o t b e s i t u a t e d i n t h e e n t e r t a i n m e n t a r e a t h a t f o r m s p a r t o f t h e G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t M a l l . T h e C i t y A d m i n i s t r a t i o n c h o s e to n e g o t i a t e w i t h t h e d e v e l o p e r o f C o a l H a r b o u r , M a r a t h o n R e a l t y C o m p a n y , t o p r o v i d e a $ 2 5 - 3 0 m i l l i o n t h e a t r e i n t h i s n e w d e v e l o p m e n t a r e a a s p a r t o f a p u b l i c a m e n i t i e s p a c k a g e . R a t h e r t h a n d e c i d i n g t o u s e t h e m o n i e s to c a p i t a l i z e o n o p p o r t u n i t i e s p r e s e n t e d b y t h e e x i s t i n g v a c a n t t h e a t r e b u i l d i n g s o n G r a n v i l l e M a l l , a c h o i c e w a s m a d e t o d e c e n t r a l i z e e n t e r t a i n m e n t f a c i l i t i e s . C i t y p l a n n e r s a r e a p p a r e n t l y u n a w a r e t h a t t h e n e w , i s o l a t e d , " s h o p p i n g c e n t r e " a p p r o a c h to c u l t u r a l f a c i l i t i e s h a s f a l l e n o u t o f f a v o u r w h e r e t h e y h a v e b e e n b u i l t . A b e t t e r a p p r o a c h . . . t h e c r e a t i v e a d a p t a t i o n o f n i c e o l d b u i l d i n g s , e s p e c i a l l y o l d v a u d e v i l l e a n d m o v i e p a l a c e s , a n d t h e c r e a t i o n o f a n a r o u n d - t h e - c l o c k , w i t h m u l t i - p u r p o s e u r b a n a m b i e n c e , r a t h e r t h a n m o n o l i t h i c a r c h i t e c t u r e , s e e m s to s e r v e t h e a r t s a n d t h e c i t y m u c h b e t t e r ( V o n E c k a r d t , 9 5 ) . P l a y h o u s e S q u a r e ( C l e v e l a n d ) i s o n e o f t h e n a t i o n ' s finest t h e a t r e r e s t o r a t i o n s , w i t h 7 0 0 0 s e a t s a n d f a c i l i t i e s f o r o p e r a , b a l l e t a n d d r a m a t i c p r o d u c t i o n s . T h e r e s t o r a t i o n b e g a n w i t h a p u b l i c - s c h o o l o f f i c i a l w a n d e r e d i n t o t h r e e m a g n i f i c e n t 1 9 2 0 s m o v i e p a l a c e s t h a t w e r e s c h e d u l e d f o r d e m o l i t i o n . S o o n v o l u n t e e r s w e r e r e f u r b i s h i n g t h e i r o r n a t e i n t e r i o r s . W h e n c o m p l e t e d i n 1 9 8 5 , P l a y h o u s e S q u a r e w i l l d r a w m o r e t h a n a m i l l i o n p e o p l e a n n u a l l y ( M e t h v i n , 6 9 ) . O n J u l y 3 0 , 1 9 9 1 , C i t y C o u n c i l a m e n d e d t h e D o w n t o w n D i s t r i c t O f f i c i a l D e v e l o p m e n t P l a n , a n d r e z o n e d t h e a r e a k n o w n a s D o w n t o w n S o u t h , b o u n d e d b y R o b s o n S t r e e t , P a c i f i c B o u l e v a r d , B u r r a r d S t r e e t a n d B e a t t y S t r e e t i s a p p r o x i m a t e l y 8 8 n e t a c r e s ( 3 5 . 6 h a ) i n a r e a . T h e n e w z o n i n g r e g u l a t i o n s w i l l h e l p t r a n s f o r m t h e a r e a i n t o a h i g h - d e n s i t y r e s i d e n t i a l a n d m i x e d - u s e c o m m u n i t y ( V a n c o u v e r U p d a t e 1 9 9 1 ) . I n p l a c e o f t h e p r e v a i l i n g a p p r o a c h to t h e r e d e v e l o p m e n t o f G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t M a l l a n d i n c o n s u l t a t i o n w i t h t h e b u i l d i n g o w n e r s a n d b u s i n e s s o w n e r s w i t h i n t h e h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t , t h e f o l l o w i n g p o l i c y p l a n n i n g p r o c e s s i s s u g g e s t e d . 1. F i r s t l e v e l p o l i c y d e c i s i o n s w o u l d r e f l e c t t h e d e t e r m i n a t i o n o f t h e c o m m u n i t y o f V a n c o u v e r i n t h a t i t w i s h e d t o e n c o u r a g e t h e r e s t o r a t i o n o f h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s f o r c o m m u n i t y u s e . C o u n c i l w o u l d r e c o g n i z e t h a t t h e r e i s a n e e d f o r r e d e v e l o p m e n t a p p r o a c h e s a n d p o l i c i e s i n t h e v i c i n i t y o f t w o h i s t o r i c t h e a t r e s o n G r a n v i l l e M a l l . A t p r e s e n t , t h e O r p h e u m h a s b e e n a b a n d o n e d w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e G r a n v i l l e s t r e e t s c a p e . T h e C i t y h a s d o n e l i t t l e to i m p r o v e t h e g e n e r a l e n v i r o n m e n t a n d m a k e i t c o n d u c i v e t o a n e n j o y a b l e n i g h t o u t a t t h e t h e a t r e f o r a m a j o r i t y o f t h e p o p u l a t i o n . A v a c u u m h a s b e e n c r e a t e d o n G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t ; n a t u r a l l y t h e u n d e s i r a b l e e l e m e n t s o f u r b a n s o c i e t y d r i f t i n t o t h e s p a c e . C o u n c i l c o u l d t a k e t h e i n i t i a t i v e w i t h r e s p e c t to t h e f u t u r e o f t h e V o g u e t h e a t r e , i n r e c o g n i z i n g t h e v a l u e to t h e c o m m u n i t y i n b o t h c u l t u r a l a n d e c o n o m i c t e r m s . " H i s t o r i c p r e s e r v a t i o n a c t i v i t y i n u r b a n h i s t o r i c d i s t r i c t s h a s c o n t r i b u t e d s i g n i f i c a n t l y t o t h e r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f t h o s e d i s t r i c t s . . . a n d i n a d d i t i o n , h a s c o n t r i b u t e d e c o n o m i c a l l y , s o c i a l l y , p h y s i c a l l y , a n d a e s t h e t i c a l l y . . . " ( W i l l i a m s , 7 5 ) . T h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r C i t y C o u n c i l s h o u l d e x p l o r e t h e p o s s i b i h t i e s o f i n v o l v i n g a d j o i n i n g m u n i c i p a l i t i e s i n t h e r e j u v e n a t i o n o f e x i s t i n g s t r u c t u r e s f o r c u l t u r a l u s e i n t h e G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t t h e a t r e d i s t r i c t . T h e e x c e l l e n t t r a n s i t s y s t e m c o n n e c t s a h o f t h e L o w e r M a i n L a n d to t h e G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t a r e a . A s i n t h e e x a m p l e d e m o n s t r a t e d b y t h e C i t y o f V i c t o r i a , o t h e r m u n i c i p a h t i e s m a y a g r e e t o c o n t r i b u t e t o t h e c o s t s o f t h e a t r e s p a c e r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e . 2 . S e c o n d l e v e l p o l i c y d e c i s i o n s w o u l d r e s u l t f r o m a d i s c u s s i o n o f p o s s i b l e o b j e c t i v e s s u c h a s t h e n e e d t o : . C r e a t e a m o r e a t t r a c t i v e a r e a . E n c o u r a g e a v a r i e t y o f a p p r o p r i a t e u s e s . A t t r a c t a m o r e d e s i r a b l e c l i e n t e l e . C o n s i d e r e c o n o m i c a d v a n t a g e s o f t o u r i s m t o t h e a r e a . 3 . T h i r d l e v e l p o l i c y d e c i s i o n s w o u l d b e b a s e d o n i n f o r m a t i o n g a i n e d f r o m d e c i s i o n s t o : . E s t a b l i s h a s p e c i a l e n t e r t a i n m e n t a r e a b e t w e e n R o b s o n a n d N e l s o n o n G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t . E s t a b l i s h a n a m e n i t i e s f u n d t h r o u g h d e v e l o p m e n t l e v i e s t h a t w o u l d a i d i n t h e r e d e v e l o p m e n t a n d r e s t o r a t i o n o f t h e V o g u e T h e a t r e a n d o t h e r h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s i n t h e s p e c i a l e n t e r t a i n m e n t a r e a - C o a l H a r b o u r p u b h c a m e n i t i e s f u n d a n d a d d i t i o n a l p u b l i c f u n d s r e q u i r e d f o r C o a l H a r b o u r t h r e a t r e c o m p l e x c o n s t r u c t i o n p r o j e c t . E s t a b l i s h p r o p e r t y t a x i n c e n t i v e s a n d o t h e r " c a r r o t s " f o r p r o p e r t y o w n e r s i n t h e s p e c i a l t h r e a t r e d i s t r i c t b e t w e e n R o b s o n a n d N e l s o n ( A p p e n d i x B ) . D e v e l o p d e s i g n g u i d e l i n e s b a s e d o n t h e H i s t o r i c T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t t h e m e - s p e c i a l s i g n a g e b y - l a w s , s i d e w a l k s u r f a c e a n d s t r e e t f u r n i t u r e . E s t a b h s h s i g n i f i c a n t " p o i n t o f e n t r y a n d e x i t " s i g n - p o s t s , i e . C h i n a t o w n i n S a n F r a n c i s c o a n d V i c t o r i a . I d e n t i f y t h e O r p h e u m a s a n a n c h o r f o r f u r t h e r d e v e l o p m e n t o p p o r t u n i t i e s i n t h e a r e a - r e s t a u r a n t a n d s h o p s o r i e n t e d t o t h e a t r e m o t i f . E x a m i n e t h e v i a b i l i t y o f t h e V o g u e T h e a t r e a s a p o t e n t i a l m i d - s i z e d c u l t u r a l f a c i l i t y ( p u r c h a s e o f b u i l d i n g , i f v i a b l e ) . E x a m i n e o p p o r t u n i t i e s o n G r a n v i l l e M a h S o u t h - V a c a n t h e r i t a g e s p a c e c o u l d b e u s e d a s g a l l e r i e s , a r t i s t s l o f t s , p e r f o r m a n c e r e h e a r s a l s p a c e s ( e x c e s s d e v e l o p m e n t F R S t r a n s f e r r e d t o o t h e r s i t e s ) . E n c o u r a g e b u s i n e s s e s t h a t a r e s y m p a t h e t i c t o e n t e r t a i n m e n t a c t i v i t i e s - s u c h a s r e s t a u r a n t s . R e - e v a l u a t e l i q u o r l i c e n s i n g p o l i c i e s t h a t i n h i b i t t h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t o f s o m e b u s i n e s s e s . T h e s e p o h c y d e c i s i o n s w o u l d r e s u l t i n a v i b r a n t a n d u n i q u e a r e a t h a t w o u l d r e f l e c t a m u c h n e e d e d m e a s u r e o f c r e a t i v i t y w i t h r e s p e c t t o y e a r s o f p r o b l e m s a n d q u e s t i o n s o f r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f t h e G r a n v i l l e M a l l a r e a . A c t i o n , r a t h e r t h a n r e a c t i o n , i s r e q u i r e d a t t h e p l a n n i n g l e v e l r e g a r d i n g o p t i o n s d e v e l o p m e n t . A t t h e C o u n c i l l e v e l p o l i c i e s t h a t r e f l e c t v i s i o n a n d r e s p e c t f o r V a n c o u v e r e x i s t i n g h i s t o r i c d i s t r i c t s a n d s t r u c t u r e s m u s t b e c o n s i d e r e d a n d a d o p t e d . W h i l e t h e r a t i o n a l e f o r t h e p r e s e r v a t i o n , r e s t o r a t i o n a n d r e u s e o f h i s t o r i c m o v i e t h e a t r e s is b e s t b a s e d o n p r a c t i c a l i t i e s , t h e r e a r e o t h e r r e a s o n s f o r p r o j e c t s s u c h a s t h e S t a n l e y , t h e V o g u e a n d t h e O r p h e u m . " T h e r e i s m o r e i m p o r t a n t r e a s o n f o r p r e s e r v i n g . . . o n e t o o e a s i l y t a k e n f o r g r a n t e d . T h e O r p h e u m i s , q u i t e s i m p l y , b e a u t i f u l , a n d n e e d s n o o t h e r j u s t i f i c a t i o n " ( M c C a l l u m 1 9 8 4 , 3 0 ) . J o h n K e n n e t h G a l b r a i t h i n Preservation: Toward an Ethic in the 1980s s t a t e s t h a t : T h e p r e s e r v a t i o n m o v e m e n t h a s o n e g r e a t c u r i o s i t y . T h e r e i s n e v e r a n y r e t r o s p e c t i v e c o n t r o v e r s y o r r e g r e t . P r e s e r v a t i o n i s t s a r e t h e o n l y p e o p l e i n t h e w o r l d w h o a r e i n v a r i a b l y c o n f i r m e d i n t h e i r w i s d o m a f t e r t h e f a c t . . . . P r e s e r v a t i o n i s t s m u s t n e v e r b e b e g u i l e d b y t h e n o t i o n t h a t w e c a n r e l y o n n a t u r a l e c o n o m i c f o r c e s o r t h a t w e c a n r e l y o n t h e m a r k e t . . . . t h e m a r k e t w o r k s a g a i n s t s o c i a l e c o n o m i c i n t e r e s t a s w e l l a s t h e l a r g e r i n t e r e s t i n t h e a r t i s t i c a n d e d u c a t i o n a l r e w a r d s o f c o n s e r v a t i o n . I t i s a s i m p l e f a c t t h a t t h e m a r k e t w i l l a l w a y s f a v o r t h e s h o r t - r u n s o l u t i o n . P r e s e r v a t i o n i s t s m u s t n e v e r d o u b t t h a t t h e y a r e e n g a g e d i n a p u b l i c a n d p h i l a n t h r o p i c a n d s o c i a l e n t e r p r i s e a n d s h o u l d n e v e r . . . b e i n t h e s l i g h t e s t a p o l o g e t i c ( G a l b r a i t h , 1 9 8 0 ) . T h e r e i s n e e d f o r c r e a t i v i t y a n d s e n s i t i v i t y w i t h i n m u n i c i p a l p l a n n i n g d e p a r t m e n t s a n d w i t h i n c i t y c o u n c i l c h a m b e r s i f h e r i t a g e b u i l d i n g s a n d h i s t o r i c a r e a s a r e to b e r e c o g n i z e d , r e j u v e n a t e d a n d r e u s e d . I t i s h o p e d t h a t t h i s s t u d y w i l l p r o v i d e u s e f u l i n f o r m a t i o n a n d e n c o u r a g e m e n t to t h o s e w h o w o u l d e n g a g e i n t h e p r o f e s s i o n o f p l a n n i n g a n d u r b a n d e s i g n i n t h e f u t u r e . 1.56 A P P E N D I X A P P E N D I X A P P E N D I X A A C A N A D I A N H I S T O R I C ( P R E - 1 9 3 0 S ) M O V I E T H E A T R E S U R V E Y , N O V E M B E R , 1 9 9 1 V I C T O R I A Theatres restored - T H E P L A Y H O U S E ( T H E P A N T A G E S - 1913) and T H E R O Y A L (1913) for c o m m u n i t y c u l t u r a l a c t i v i t i e s . Theatres demolished - T H E C A P I T O L (facade preserved) P a n t a g e s d e e d e d to C i t y o f V i c t o r i a b y O w n e r - T . S . M c P h e r s o n ( 1 9 6 0 s ) N o n - p r o f i t M c P h e r s o n F o u n d a t i o n o p e r a t e s f o r m e r P a n t a g e s a n d R o y a l . F u n d e d b y C i t y o f V i c t o r i a , M u n i c i p a l i t i e s o f O a k B a y , E s q u i m a l t a n d S a a n i c h , a n d c o r p o r a t i o n s a n d i n d i v i d u a l s . V A N C O U V E R T h e a t r e s r e s t o r e d - T H E O R P H E U M T h e a t r e s c l o s e d - T H E S T A N L E Y ( 1 9 3 1 ) , T H E V O G U E ( 1 9 4 1 ) Theatres demohshed - T H E S T R A N D (1919), T H E L Y R I C ( 1 9 0 6 ) , T H E P A N T A G E S . T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e i s a d e s i g n a t e d h i s t o r i c s i t e a n d i s o w n e d a n d o p e r a t e d b y t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r - H o m e o f t h e V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y . C A L G A R Y A P P E N D I X T h e a t r e s r e s t o r e d - N o n e T h e a t r e s c l o s e d - T H E P A L A C E ( 1 9 2 1 ) T h e a t r e s d e m o l i s h e d - T H E C A P I T O L ( 1 9 2 1 ) , T H E B I J O U ( 1 9 1 2 ) , T H E S T R A N D ( 1 9 1 3 ) T h e a t r e r e n o v a t e d i n t o r e t a i l - T H E T I V O L I ( 1 9 3 0 S ) E D M O N T O N T h e a t r e s r e s t o r e d - N o n e T h e a t r e s i n o p e r a t i o n a s t h e a t r e s - T H E G A R N E A U ( 1 9 1 2 ) , T H E G E M ( S T A R - 1 9 1 3 ) T h e a t r e s d e m o h s h e d - T H E D R E A M L A N D ( 1 9 4 0 S ) , T H E P A N T A G E S ( S T R A N D - 1 9 1 3 ) , T H E N E W E M P I R E ( 1 9 2 0 ) S A S K A T O O N T h e a t r e s r e s t o r e d - T H E C A P I T O L W I N N I P E G . T h e a t r e s r e s t o r e d - T H E M E T R O P O L I T A N T h e a t r e s c l o s e d o r t h r e a t e n e d - T H E C A P I T O L , T H E E P I C , T H E O D E O N M e t r o p o l i t a n r e s t o r e d b y t h r e e l e v e l s o f g o v e r n m e n t , f o r c u l t u r a l a c t i v i t i e s , c i t y o w n e d a n d o p e r a t e d . T O R O N T O Theatres restored - T H E P A N T A G E S (1920), T H E E L G I N / W I N T E R G A R D E N (1914) T h e a t r e s operating - T H E R U N N Y M E D E (1920S) Theatres demolished - T H E U N I V E R S I T Y (1930S), S H E A ' S H I P P O D R O M E (1914) A P P E N D I X The Pantages (private investment) and the E l g i n / W i n t e r G a r d e n (public investment) are b e a u t i f u l historic theatres restored for c u l t u r a l activities i n Toronto. W I N D S O R T h e a t r e s u n d e r r e v i e w - T H E C A P I T O L ( 1 9 2 0 ) T h e a t r e s d e m o h s h e d - T H E P A L A C E ( a m o n g o t h e r s ) T h e C a p i t o l - s p l i t i n t o 3 t h e a t r e s i n 1 9 7 5 b y F a m o u s P l a y e r s . W i n d s o r l e a s e d i n 1 9 9 1 f o r C o m m u n i t y A r t s C e n t r e . T h e y h o p e to p u r c h a s e a n d r e s t o r e . I n i t i a t e d b y p u b l i c c i t i z e n s g r o u p b u t l i t t l e m u n i c i p a l s u p p o r t H o p e to g a i n s u p p o r t f r o m a l l t h r e e l e v e l s o f government. H e r i t a g e v a l u e not of p r i m a r y interest - public use is. O T T A W A T h e a t r e s r e s t o r e d - T H E I M P E R I A L T h e a t r e s d e m o h s h e d - T H E C A P I T O L ( a m o n g o t h e r s ) I m p e r i a l T h e a t r e u n d e r r e n o v a t i o n f o r l i v e e n t e r t a i n m e n t . C H A R L O T T E T O W N Theatres restored - T H E M A C K E N Z I E T h e a t r e lost t h r o u g h fire - T H E E M P R E S S (1922) The M c K e n z i e T h e a t r e is p a r t of the Confederation C e n t r e for the A r t s - C h a r l o t t e t o w n F e s t i v a l . The C i t y of C h a r l o t t e t o w n has recently received $1.5 m i l l i o n from the F e d e r a l G o v e r n m e n t to restore the E m p r e s s T h e a t r e . T h e y w i l l also be r e c e i v i n g m a t c h i n g grants from the m u n i c i p a l a n d p r o v i n c i a l governments. A P P E N D I X B I N C E N T I V E M E C H A N I S M S F O R H E R I T A G E R E S O U R C E R E S T O R A T I O N A N D R E U S E 1. P e r s u a s i o n o r M o r a l S u a s i o n - m u n i c i p a l b u r e a u c r a c y 2 . P u b l i c A w a r e n e s s - p l a q u e s , a w a r d s , p u b l i c i t y 3 . D e m o n s t r a t i o n P r o j e c t s - m u n i c i p a l - a r e a i n i t i a t i v e s 4. P u b l i c W o r k s - a m e n i t i e s i n h e r i t a g e a r e a s 5. D e s i g n G u i d e l i n e s - e n c o u r a g e a n d d i r e c t p r i v a t e s e c t o r 6 . G o v e r n m e n t L e a s i n g o f H e r i t a g e B u i l d i n g s 7. G r e e n D o o r P o l i c y - s p e e d u p d e v e l o p m e n t p r o c e s s e s 8. F a c a d e E a s e m e n t s - i n l i e u o f m u n i c i p a l t a x e s 9. B u i l d i n g C o d e F l e x i b i l i t y 1 0 . Z o n i n g I n c e n t i v e s 1 1 . T r a n s f e r o f D e v e l o p m e n t R i g h t s 1 2 . T a x F r e e z e o n R e h a b i l i t a t e d H e r i t a g e P r o p e r t y 1 3 . R e d u c e d P r o p e r t y A s s e s s m e n t 1 4 . T a x I n c r e m e n t F i n a n c i n g 1 5 . R e v o l v i n g F u n d s - n o n - p r o f i t a s s o c i a t i o n 1 6 . V a l u e C a p t u r e - r e c y c l e d b a c k i n t o o t h e r h e r i t a g e p r o j e c t s 1 7 . L o a n s , G r a n t s o r M o r t g a g e G u a r a n t e e s 1 8 . P u r c h a s e o f P r o p e r t y A P P E N D I X B 1 9 . P u r c h a s e o f F a c a d e E a s e m e n t s 2 0 . P u r c h a s e / E x p r o p r i a t i o n o f P r o p e r t y a n d R e s a l e w i t h R e s t r i c t i v e C o v e n a n t s 2 1 . R e s t r i c t i v e C o v e n a n t s 2 2 . R e d e v e l o p m e n t L e v y - m u n i c i p a l h e r i t a g e f u n d S E L E C T E D B I B L I O G R A P H Y B O O K S A N D R E P O R T S A n d r e w s , W a y n e . 1 9 6 4 . A r c h i t e c t u r e , A m b i t i o n a n d A m e r i c a n s : A S o c i a l H i s t o r y o f A m e r i c a n A r c h i t e c t u r e . N e w Y o r k : T h e F r e e P r e s s . B a l l - R o k e a c h , S a n d r a J . a n d M u r i e l G . C a n t o r , e d s . 1 9 8 6 . M e d i a , A u d i e n c e , a n d S o c i a l S t r u c t u r e . N e w b u r y P a r k : S a g e P u b l i c a t i o n s , I n c . B a r b e r , S t e p h e n . 1 9 9 0 . " C o n s e r v i n g W i n n i p e g ' s B u i l t H e r i t a g e , 1 9 7 4 - 1 9 8 5 . " I n P r a i r i e F o r u m , T h e J o u r n a l o f T h e C a n a d i a n P l a i n s R e s e a r c h C e n t e r . E d s . A l a n F . J . A r t i b i s e a n d J e a n F r i e s e n . H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n , V o l . 1 5 , N o . 2 . W i n n i p e g : F a l l 1 9 9 0 . 3 0 1 - 3 2 7 . B e l k a o u i , J a n i c e M o n t i . 1 9 8 2 . " T h e M a s s M e d i a i n C a n a d a . " I n S o c i a l I s s u e s : S o c i o l o g i c a l V i e w s o f C a n a d a , e d . D e n n i s F o r c e s e a n d S t e p h e n R i c h e r , S c a r b o r o u g h : P r e n t i c e - H a l l C a n a d a , I n c . 4 4 0 - 4 6 8 . B e r k , E m m a n u e l . 1 9 8 1 . D o w n t o w n I m p r o v e m e n t M a n u a l . C h i c a g o : P l a n n e r s P r e s s . B i l l i n g s , V i c t o r i a . 1 9 8 6 . " C u l t u r e b y t h e M i l l i o n s " . S e e B a U - K o k e a c h e t a l . 1 9 8 6 B i r c h , E u g e n i e L a d n e r a n d D o u g l a s s R o b y . 1 9 8 9 . " T h e P l a n n e r a n d t h e P r e s e r v a t i o n i s t . " I n Preservation Policy Research S e r i e s N o P P R - R 3 . P a m e l a T h u r b e r . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n . 3 7 - 5 0 . B r a n t l i n g e r , P a t r i c k . 1 9 8 3 . B r e a d & C i r c u s e s : T h e o r i e s o f M a s s C u l t u r e a s S o c i a l D e c a y . I t h a c a : C o r n e l l U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s . B r o w n , D e n i s e S c o t t . 1 9 8 5 . " V i s i o n s o f t h e F u t u r e B a s e d o n L e s s o n s f r o m t h e P a s t " . S e e F u l l e r 1 9 8 5 . B u r c h i l l , J u l i e . 1 9 8 6 . D a m a g e d G o d s , C u l t s a n d H e r o e s R e a p p r a i s e d . L o n d o n : C e n t u r y . C h a m b e r s , I a i n . 1 9 8 6 . P o p u l a r C u l t u r e : T h e M e t r o p o h t a n E x p e r i e n c e . N e w Y o r k : M e t h u e n & C o . L t d . C h a r y n , J e r o m e . 1 9 8 9 . Movieland, Hollywood and the Great Dream Culture. N e w Y o r k : G . P . P u t n a n ' s S o n s . C h a s e , L i n d a . 1 9 8 8 . H o l l y w o o d o n M a i n S t r e e t : T h e M o v i e h o u s e P a i n t i n g o f D a v i s C o v e . N e w Y o r k : T h e O v e r l o o k P r e s s , C h i t t e n d e n , B e t s y . 1 9 8 7 . T a x I n c e n t i v e s f o r R e h a b i l i t a t i n g H i s t o r i c B u i l d i n g s . F i s c a l Y e a r , 1 9 8 7 A n a l y s i s . T e c h n i c a l P r e s e r v a t i o n S e r v i c e s . N a t i o n a l P a r k S e r v i c e . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : D e p a r t m e n t o f t h e I n t e r i o r . C i g l e r , A l l a n J . & B u r d e t t A . L o o m i s . 1 9 9 1 . I n t e r e s t G r o u p P o l i t i c s , 3 d e d . , W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : C o n g r e s s i o n a l Q u a r t e r l y . C l a r k s o n , S t e p h e n . ( 1 9 8 0 ) " C i t i z e n P a r t i c i p a t i o n i n C a n a d i a n S o c i a l S c i e n c e s : A C h a l l e n g e o f F a c t s a n d a C h a l l e n g e o f V a l u e s . " I n Problems of Change in Urban Government. e d s . M . O . D i c k e r s o n , S . D r a b e c k a n d J . T . W o o d s . W i l f r e d L a u r i e r U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s . 3 9 - 5 7 . C o l h n s , R i c h a r d C , E l i z a b e t h B . W a t e r s , a n d A . B r u c e D o t s o n . 1 9 9 1 . A m e r i c a ' s D o w n t o w n s : G r o w t h , P o l i t i c s & P r e s e r v a t i o n . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : T h e P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . C o o p e r s m i t h , P e n i n a w i t h R i c h a r d C . H a h . 1 9 7 6 . H e r i t a g e b y D e s i g n . U r b a n P r o s p e c t s S e r i e s . M i n i s t r y o f U r b a n A f f a i r s . T h e M c M i l l a n C o m p a n y o f C a n a d a L i m i t e d . C u l l i n g w o r t h , J . B a r r y . 1 9 8 4 . C a n a d i a n P l a n n i n g a n d P u b l i c P a r t i c i p a t i o n . C e n t r e f o r U r b a n a n d C o m m u n i t y S t u d i e s . T o r o n t o : U n i v e r s i t y o f T o r o n t o P r e s s . D a v i s , F r e d . 1 9 8 1 . " C o n t e m p o r a r y N o s t a l g i a a n d t h e M a s s M e d i a . " I n M a s s M e d i a a n d S o c i a l C h a n g e , e d . E h H u k a t z a n d T a m a s S z e c s b i o . B e v e r l y H i l l s : S a g e P u b l i c a t i o n s L t d . 2 1 9 - 2 2 9 . E c k a r d t , W o l f v o n . 1 9 8 5 . " A m e r i c a t h e B e a u t i f u l " . S e e F u l l e r 1 9 7 5 . F a l k n e r , A n n . 1 9 7 7 . W i t h o u t O u r P a s t ? A H a n d b o o k f o r t h e P r e s e r v a t i o n o f C a n a d a ' s A r c h i t e c t u r a l H e r i t a g e . O t t a w a , C a n a d a , M i n i s t r y o f S t a t e f o r U r b a n a f f a i r s a n d P u b h s h i n g C e n t r e , S u p p l y a n d S e r v i c e s . T o r o n t o : U n i v e r s i t y o f T o r o n t o P r e s s . F e n t o n , B a r r y , A n n e t t e F u n g , D e n i c e M i h o i l u k , a n d D o u g l a s P o w . 1 9 7 7 . " H e r i t a g e P r e s e r v a t i o n i n V a n c o u v e r " . S t u d e n t p a p e r . F a c u l t y o f C o m m e r c e a n d B u s i n e s s A d m i n i s t r a t i o n : U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . F i t c h , J a m e s M a r s t o n . 1 9 8 2 . H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n : C u r a t o r i a l M a n a g e m e n t o f t h e B u i l t W o r l d . N e w Y o r k : M c G r a w H i l l B o o k C o m p a n y . F o r e s t e r , J o h n . 1 9 8 9 . P l a n n i n g i n t h e F a c e o f P o w e r . B e r k e l e y : U n i v e r s i t y o f C a l i f o r n i a P r e s s . F r i e d m a n n , J o h n . 1 9 7 4 . P l a n n i n g a n d t h e G o o d S o c i e t y . O c c a s i o n a l P a p e r s i n P l a n n i n g E d u c a t i o n . P a p e r N o . 7. A s s o c i a t i o n o f C o l l e g i a t e S c h o o l s o f P l a n n i n g . . 1 9 8 7 . P l a n n i n g i n t h e P u b l i c D o m a i n e : F r o m K n o w l e d g e to A c t i o n . P r i n c e t o n : P r i n c e t o n U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s . F u l l e r , L a r r y P a u l , e d . 1 9 8 5 . T h e L a n d , t h e C i t y , a n d t h e H u m a n S p i r i t : A n A s s e s s m e n t . L y n d o n B a i n e s J o h n s o n F o u n d a t i o n : U n i v e r s i t y o f T e x a s . G a i l b r a i t h , J o h n K e n n e t h . 1 9 8 0 . " T h e E c o n o m i c a n d S o c i a l R e t u r n s o f P r e s e r v a t i o n . " I n P r e s e r v a t i o n : T o w a r d a n E t h i c i n t h e 1 9 8 0 s . N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : T h e P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . 5 7 - 6 2 . G i r o u r d , M a r k . 1 9 8 5 . C i t i e s & P e o p l e : A S o c i a l a n d A r c h i t e c t u r a l H i s t o r y . N e w H a v e n : Y a l e U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s . G o o d m a n , W i l h a m I . a n d E r i c C . F r e u n d , e d . 1 9 6 8 . P r i n c i p l e s a n d P r a c t i c e o f U r b a n P l a n n i n g . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : I n t e r n a t i o n a l C i t y M a n a g e r s ' A s s o c i a t i o n . G u n n , C l a r e A . 1 9 8 8 . T o u r i s m P l a n n i n g . N e w Y o r k : T a y l o r & F r a n c i s . H a l l , B e n M . 1 9 6 1 . T h e B e s t R e m a i n i n g S e a t s : T h e S t o r y o f t h e G o l d e n A g e o f t h e M o v i e P a l a c e . N e w Y o r k : B r a m h a l l H o u s e . H i b b e r t , C h r i s t o p h e r . 1 9 8 6 . C i t i e s a n d C i v i l i z a t i o n s . N e w Y o r k : W e i d e n f e l d a n d N i c o l s o n . H o l d s w o r t h , D e r y c k . 1 9 8 5 . R e v i v i n g M a i n S t r e e t . H e r i t a g e C a n a d a F o u n d a t i o n . T o r o n t o : U n i v e r s i t y o f T o r o n t o P r e s s . H u n t e r , R o b e r t . 1 9 8 5 . " T h e a t r e A r c h i t e c t u r e i n C a n a d a , a S t u d y o f p r e - 1 9 2 0 C a n a d i a n T h e a t r e s " . P a p e r p r o d u c e d f o r t h e H i s t o r i c S i t e s a n d M o n u m e n t s B o a r d o f C a n a d a . H u o t , W i l l i a m . 1 9 8 8 . C a r r o t s : M e t h o d s f o r L o c a l G o v e r n m e n t to G i v e A s s i s t a n c e to H e r i t a g e P r o p e r t y O w n e r s . H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n B r a n c h , M i n i s t r y o f T o u r i s m , R e c r e a t i o n a n d C u l t u r e , P r o v i n c e o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . I n g e , T h o m a s M . E d . H a n d b o o k o f A m e r i c a n P o p u l a r C u l t u r e . S e c , e d . 1 9 8 9 . N e w Y o r k : G r e e n w o o d P r e s s . J a c o b s , J a n e . 1 9 6 1 . T h e D e a t h a n d L i f e o f G r e a t A m e r i c a n C i t i e s . N e w Y o r k : V i n t a g e B o o k s . J a m i e s o n , W a l t e r . 1 9 9 0 . " C r e a t i n g H i s t o r i c D i s t r i c t s : N e w C h a l l e n g e s f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n i n W e s t e r n C a n a d a . " I n P r a i r i e F o r u m , T h e J o u r n a l o f t h e C a n a d i a n P l a i n s R e s e a r c h C e n t e r . E d s . A l a n F . J . A r t i b i s e a n d J e a n F r i e s e n . H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n , V o l . 1 5 , N o . 2 . W i n n i p e g : F a l l 1 9 9 0 . 2 2 1 - 2 3 3 . J o n e s , E m r y s a n d E l e a n o r V a n Z a n d t . 1 9 7 4 . T h e C i t y : Y e s t e r d a y , T o d a y a n d T o m o r r o w . L o n d o n : J u p i t e r B o o k s . K a l m a n , H a r o l d . 1 9 7 4 . E x p l o r i n g V a n c o u v e r . V a n c o u v e r : U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a P r e s s . K a n d o , T h o n a a s M . 1 9 8 0 . L e i s u r e a n d P o p u l a r C u l t u r e i n T r a n s i t i o n . S t . L o u i s : T h e C . V . M o s b y C o m p a n y . K e n n a r d , B y r o n . 1 9 8 2 . N o t h i n g C a n B e D o n e , E v e r y t h i n g I s P o s s i b l e . A n d o v e r : B r i c k H o u s e P u b h s h i n g C o . , I n c . K n o k e , D a v i d a n d J a m e s R . W o o d . 1 9 8 1 . O r g a n i z e d For A c t i o n : C o m m i t m e n t i n V o l u n t a r y O r g a n i z a t i o n s , N e w B r u n s w i c k , N e w J e r s e y : R u t g e r s U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s . K u n d e , J a m e s E . 1 9 8 4 " P r o c e s s L e s s o n s f r o m a C i t i e s ' F a i r . " S e e P o r t e r e t a l . 1 9 8 4 . L a s s a r , T e r r y J i l l . 1 9 8 9 . C a r r o t s & S t i c k s : N e w Z o n i n g D o w n t o w n . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : U r b a n L a n d I n s t i t u t e . L a z e a r , S t u a r t B r e n t . 1 9 8 1 . " M u n i c p a l H e r i t a g e P l a n n i n g i n C a n a d a . " M . A . t h e s i s . U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . L i n d s a y , J o h n C . 1 9 8 6 . R o y a l A l e x a n d r a : T h e F i n e s t T h e a t r e o n t h e C o n t i n e n t . E r i n , O n t . : T h e B o s t o n M i l l s P r e s s . . 1 9 8 3 . T u r n O u t T h e S t a r s B e f o r e L e a v i n g . E r i n , O n t a r i o : T h e B o s t o n M i l l s P r e s s , L i p s e t , S e y m o u r M a r t i n . 1 9 8 9 . C o n t i n e n t a l D i v i d e : T h e V a l u e s a n d I n s t i t u t i o n s o f t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d C a n a d a . C D . H o w e I n s t i t u t e ( T o r o n t o , C a n a d a ) N a t i o n a l P l a n n i n g A s s o c i a t i o n ( W a s h i n g t o n , D . C ) . L o t t e r , J a n e . 1 9 7 7 . " T h e P a n t a g e s " . S t u d e n t p a p e r . T h e P a n t a g e s A r c h i v e s , T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n . M a h o o d . , H . R . 1 9 9 0 . I n t e r e s t G r o u p P o l i t i c s i n A m e r i c a : A N e w I n t e n s i t y . E n g l e w o o d C l i f f s , N . J . : P r e n t i c e H a h . M a r g o l i s , J o h n . 1 9 9 2 . T i c k e t s t o P a r a d i s e : M o v i e P a l a c e s , D i d n ' t W e H a v e F u n ? N e w Y o r k : L i t t l e - B r o w n & C o m p a n y . M a r t i n , H a r r y a n d C a r o l i n e K e l l o g g . 1 9 8 1 . T a c o m a - A P i c t o r i a l H i s t o r y . D o n n i n g C o m p a n y P u b l i s h e r s . M c C a l l u m , D o u g . 1 9 8 4 . V a n c o u v e r ' s O r p h e u m : T h e L i f e o f a T h e a t r e . C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r : S o c i a l P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . M c C a n n , M i c h a e l W . 1 9 8 6 . T a k i n g R e f o r m S e r i o u s l y : P e r s p e c t i v e s o n P u b l i c I n t e r e s t L i b e r a t i o n . I t h a c a : C o r n e l l U n i v e r s t i y P r e s s . M c D o n a l d , R o b e r t A . J . 1 9 8 1 . " V i c t o r i a , V a n c o u v e r , a n d t h e E c o n o m i c D e v e l o p m e n t o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , 1 9 8 6 - 1 9 1 4 . I n B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a : H i s t o r i c a l R e a d i n g s , e d . W . P e t e r W a r d a n d R o b e r t A . J . M c D o n a l d . V a n c o u v e r : D o u g l a s & M c l n t v r e L t d . , 3 6 9 - 3 9 5 . M c F a r l a n d , A n d r e w S . 1 9 8 4 . C o m m o n C a u s e : L o b b y i n g i n t h e P u b l i c I n t e r e s t . C h a t h a m : C h a t h a m H o u s e P u b l i s h e r s , I n c . M c N u l t y , R o b e r t H . , D o r o t h y J a c o b s o n a n d R . L e o P e n n e . 1 9 8 . 5 . T h e E c o n o m i c s o f A m e n i t y : C o m m u n i t y F u t u r e & Q u a l i t y of L i f e . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : P a r t n e r s f o r L i v a b l e S p a c e s . M e r c e r , J o h n a n d M i c h a e l A . G o l d b e r g . 1 9 8 6 . " V a l u e D i f f e r e n c e s a n d t h e i r M e a n i n g f o r U r b a n D e v e l o p m e n t i n C a n a d a a n d t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s . " I n Power and Place,ed. G i l b e r t A . S t e l t e r a n d A l a n A r t i b i s e . V a n c o u v e r : U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a P r e s s . 3 4 3 - 3 9 4 . M e t h v i n , E u g e n e H . 1 9 8 4 . " C l e v e l a n d C o m e s B a c k . " S e e P o r t e r e t a l . 1 9 8 4 . M o r g a n , M u r r a y . 1 9 7 9 . P u g e t ' s S o u n d : A N a r r a t i v e o f E a r l y T a c o m a a n d t h e S o u t h e r n S o u n d . S e a t t l e & L o n d o n : U n i v e r s i t y o f W a s h i n g t o n P r e s s . M o r g a n , M u r r a y & R o s a M o r g a n . 1 9 8 4 . S o u t h o f t h e S o u n d : A n I l l u s t r a t e d H i s t o r y o f T a c o m a & P i e r c e C o u n t y . W o o d l a n d s , C a l i f o r n i a : W i n d s o r P u b l i c a t i o n s , I n c . M o r t o n , T e r r y B . , e d . 1 9 8 2 . " I F e e l I S h o u l d W a r n Y o u . . . , " H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n C a r t o o n s . N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : T h e P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . M u m f o r d , L e w i s . 1 9 6 1 . T h e C i t y i n H i s t o r y : I t s O r i g i n s , i t s T r a n s f o r m a t i o n s , a n d i t s P r o s p e c t s . N e w Y o r k : H a r c o u r t , B r a c e & W o r l d , I n c . N a y l o r , D a v i d . 1 9 8 1 . A m e r i c a n P i c t u r e P a l a c e s : T h e A r c h i t e c t u r e o f F a n t a s y . N e w Y o r k : V a n N o s t r a n d R h e i n h o l d C o m p a n y . N a y l o r , D a v i d . 1 9 8 7 . G r e a t A m e r i c a n M o v i e T h e a t e r s . W a s h i n g t o n . D . C . : T h e P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . O l s h e s k i , C o n s t a n c e . 1 9 8 9 . P a n t a g e s T h e a t r e : R e b i r t h o f a L a n d m a r k . T o r o n t o : K e y P o r t e r B o o k s L i m i t e d . O r l e a n , S u s a n . 1 9 9 0 . S a t u r d a y N i g h t . N e w Y o r k : F a w c e t t C r e s t . O r r e l l , J o h n . 1 9 8 1 . F a l l e n E m p i r e s : T h e L o s t T h e a t r e s o f E d m o n t o n , 1 8 8 1 - 1 9 1 4 . E d m o n t o n : N e w e s t P r e s s . P a r k e r , J a m e s J . 1 9 8 6 . " T h e O r g a n i z a t i o n a l E n v i r o n m e n t o f t h e M o t i o n P i c t u r e S e c t o r . " B a l l - K o k e a c h e t a l . 1 9 8 6 P o r t e r , P a u l R . & D a v i d C . S w e e t , e d s . R e b u i l d i n g A m e r i c a ' s C i t i e s : R o a d s to R e c o v e r y . C e n t e r f o r U r b a n P o l i c y R e s e a r c h . R u t g e r s : T h e S t a t e U n i v e r s i t y o f N e w J e r s e y . P o r t e r f i e l d , B i l l . 1 9 8 6 . " M a n a n d B e a s t i n t h e C i t y . " S a r d e l l o e t a l . 1 9 8 6 . P r e s s m a n , N o r m a n E . P . 1 9 8 1 . C r e a t i n g L i v a b l e C i t i e s . J o u r n a l o f U r b a n E n v i r o n m e n t a l A f f a i r s . W a t e r l o o : U n i v e r s i t y o f W a t e r l o o . R a d i c h , A n t h o n y J . 1 9 8 8 . D e s i g n i n S t a t e G o v e r n m e n t : A n I n t r o d u c t i o n f o r L e g i s l a t o r s . N a t i o n a l C o n f e r e n c e o f S t a t e L e g i s l a t u r e s . R o s s i , A l d o . 1 9 8 3 . A r c h i t e c t u r e o f t h e C i t y . C a m b r i d g e : T h e M . I . T . P r e s s . R o t o f f , B a s i l M . 1 9 8 1 . " A C r i t i c a l V i e w o f P e d e s t r i a n M a l l s i n N o r t h A m e r i c a . " S e e P r e s s m a n 1 9 8 1 . R o u s e , J a m e s W . " T h e C a s e f o r V i s i o n . " S e e P o r t e r e t a l . 1 9 8 2 . R u s s e h , H i l a r y . 1 9 8 9 . D o u b l e T a k e : T h e S t o r y o f t h e E l g i n a n d W i n t e r G a r d e n T h e a t r e s . T o r o n t o : D u n d u r n P r e s s L i m i t e d . R y b c z y n s k i , W i t o l d . 1 9 9 1 . W a i t i n g For t h e W e e k e n d . N e w Y o r k : V i k i n g P e n g u i n . S a r d e l l o , R o b e r t J . & G a i l T h o m a s , e d s . 1 9 8 6 . S t i r r i n g s oF C u l t u r e . D a U a s : T h e D a l l a s I n s t i t u t e P u b l i c a t i o n s . S a v i t c h , H . V . & J o h n C l a y t o n T h o m a s , e d s . 1 9 9 1 . B i g C i t y P o h t i c s i n T r a n s i t i o n . V o l u m e 3 8 , U r b a n A F f a i r s A n n u a l R e v i e w s . N e w b u r y P a r k : S a g e P u b l i c a t i o n s . S c h e i d , A n n . 1 9 8 9 . T h e C i t y B e a u t i f u l i n U t o p i a : A S t u d y o f C i v i c C e n t e r D e s i g n s i n S o u t h e r n C a l i f o r n i a . T h e S o c i e t y f o r A m e r i c a n C i t y a n d R e g i o n a l P l a n n i n g H i s t o r y . S c h i c k e l , R i c h a r d . 1 9 8 5 . I n t i m a t e S t r a n g e r s : T h e C u l t u r e o f C e l e b r i t y . N e w Y o r k : D o u b l e d a y & C o m p a n y , I n c . S c h n e i d e r m a n , L e o , P h . D . 1 9 8 8 . T h e P s y c h o l o g y o f S o c i a l C h a n g e . N e w Y o r k : H u m a n S c i e n c e s P r e s s , I n c . S e x t o n , R . W . & B . F . B e t t s , e d s . 1 9 2 7 . A m e r i c a n T h e a t e r s T o d a y . N e w Y o r k : A r c h i t e c t u r a l B o o k P u b h s h i n g C o . , I n c . N e w Y o r k : T h e V e s t a l P r e s s , 1 9 7 7 . S h a n d , P . M o r t o n . 1 9 3 0 . T h e A r c h i t e c t u r e of P l e a s u r e : M o d e r n T h e a t r e s a n d C i n e m a s . L o n d o n : B . T . B a t s f o r d L t d . , P u b l i s h e r s . S h a r p , D e n n i s . 1 9 6 9 . T h e P i c t u r e P a l a c e . L o n d o n : H u g h E v e l y n L i m i t e d . S t o d d a r d , R o b e r t . 1 9 7 8 . A G r a n d S t r a t e g y : T h e S c e n a r i o f o r S a v i n g t h e G r a n d O p e r a H o u s e . C a s e S t u d i e s i n P r e s e r v a t i o n 3 . N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n i n t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s : T h e P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . S u t c l i f f e , A n t h o n y . 1 9 8 1 . T o w a r d t h e P l a n n e d C i t y : G e r m a n y , B r i t a i n , t h e U n i t e d S t a t e s a n d F r a n c e , 1 7 8 0 - 1 9 1 4 . O x f o r d : B a s i l B l a c k w e l l . T h u r b e r , P a m e l a , e d . 1 9 8 5 . C o n t r o v e r s i e s i n H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n : U n d e r s t a n d i n g t h e P r e s e r v a t i o n M o v e m e n t T o d a y . N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n . P r e s e r v a t i o n P o l i c y R e s e a r c h . S e r i e s n o . P P R - R 0 3 , o r d e r n o . 5 2 3 3 . V a l e r i o , J o s e p h M . a n d D a n i e l F r i e d m a n . 1 9 8 2 . M o v i e P a l a c e s : R e n a i s s a n c e a n d R e u s e . N e w Y o r k , N . Y . : E d u c a t i o n a l F a c i l i t i e s L a b o r i t o r i e s D i v i s i o n A c a d e m y f o r E d u c a t i o n a l D e v e l o p m e n t / P u b l i s h e r s . V e n t u r i , R o b e r t , D e n i s e S c o t t - B r o w n , S t e v e n I z e n o u r , r e v i s e d e d i t i o n . 1 9 7 7 . L e a r n i n g F r o m L a s V e g a s : T h e F o r g o t t e n S y m b o U s m o f A r c h i t e c t u r a l F o r m s . C a m b r i d g e : T h e M I T P r e s s . W a l d h a u e r , E r d m u t e . 1 9 7 9 . G r a n d T h e a t r e , 1 8 7 9 - 1 9 7 9 . K i n g s t o n : M a s t e r c r a f t P r i n t i n g . W a r d , E . N e v i l l e . 1 9 8 6 . H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n : T h e B u i l t E n v i r o n m e n t . L a n d U s e P o l i c y a n d R e s e a r c h B r a n c h , L a n d s D i r e c t o r a t e . W o r k i n g P a p e r N o . 4 4 . W e t h e r e l l , D o n a l d G . w i t h I r e n e K m e t . 1 9 9 0 . U s e f u l P l e a s u r e s : T h e S h a p i n g o f L e i s u r e i n A l b e r t a , 1 8 9 6 - 1 9 4 5 . A l b e r t a C u l t u r e a n d M u l t i c u l t u r a h s m / C a n a d i a n P l a i n s R e s e a r c h C e n t r e . R e g i n a : U n i v e r s i t y o f R e g i n a . W h i t t i c k , A r n o l d , e d i t o r . 1 9 4 7 . E n c y c l o p e d i a o f U r b a n P l a n n i n g . N e w Y o r k : M c G r a w - H i U B o o k C o m p a n y . W i U i a m s , N o r m a n , E d m u n d H . K e l l o g g a n d F r a n k B . G i l b e r t . 1 9 8 3 . R e a d i n g i n H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n : W h y ? W h a t ? H o w ? N e w B r u n s w i c k , N e w J e r s e y : C e n t e r f o r U r b a n R e s e a r c h . W i l s o n , W i l h a m H . 1 9 8 9 . T h e C i t y B e a u t i f u l M o v e m e n t . B a l t i m o r e : T h e J o h n s H o p k i n s U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s . W o l f e , T o m . 1 9 8 2 . F r o m B a u h a u s to O u r H o u s e . N e w Y o r k : S i m o n & S c h u s t e r , W a s h i n g t o n S q u a r e P r e s s . W o l f e , T o m . " S l e a z e f r o m A b o v e . " S e e F u l l e r 1 9 8 5 . W o o d , D a n i e l . 1 9 8 5 . " G o B o o m , F a U D o w n . " I n W e s t e r n L i v i n g ( A p r i l 1 9 8 5 ) : 2 2 - 3 3 . G O V E R N M E N T , A S S O C I A T I O N , A N D J O U R N A L P U B L I C A T I O N S A l b e r t a , 1 9 8 7 . H i s t o r i c R e s o u r c e s A c t . P r o v i n c e o f A l b e r t a . E d m o n t o n : Q u e e n ' s P r i n t e r f o r A l b e r t a . B e l l e v u e , W . A . 1 9 9 0 . " B r o a d w a y T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t C a p i t a l C a m p a i g n C a s e S t a t e m e n t . " B e l l e v u e : J a m e s G . F l e t c h e r A s s o c i a t e s , I n c . B e n j a m i n , P a t r i c i a J . 1 9 8 3 . " M a n a g i n g H i s t o r i c T h e a t r e s f o r t h e P e r f o r m i n g A r t s . " I n M a r q u e e : T h e J o u r n a l o f t h e T h e a t r e H i s t o r i c a l S o c i e t y . T h e a t r e P r e s e r v a t i o n I s s u e , V o l 1 5 : N o . 4 . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : T h e P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . 3 3 - 3 7 B i r c h , E u g e n i e L a d n e r a n d D o u g l a s s R o b y . 1 9 8 9 . " T h e P l a n n e r a n d t h e P r e s e r v a t i o n i s t . " I n P r e s e r v a t i o n P o l i c y R e s e a r c h S e r i e s , N o . P P R - R 3 . P a m e l a T h u r b e r , e d . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n . 3 7 - 5 0 . B o w e r s , F r i t z , A l d e r m a n , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r , 1 9 7 4 . " M e m o to M e m b e r s o f t h e O r p h e u m C o m m i t t e e . " 7 J a n u a r y . . 1 9 7 4 . L e t t e r t o D a v i d M o o n e y , F a m o u s P l a y e r s L t d . 7 F e b r u a r y . . 1 9 7 4 . L e t t e r to M a y o r A r t P h i l l i p s a n d M i c h a e l D i x o n . " P a n i c a t t h e O r p h e u m . " 2 8 M a r c h . . 1 9 7 4 . M e m o r e " F i n a n c i a l a r r a n g e m e n t s f o r t h e O r p h e u m p r o j e c t . " 3 0 A p r i l . B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . 1 9 9 1 . M i n i s t r y o f T o u r i s m a n d M i n i s t r y R e s p o n s i b l e f o r C u l t u r e . C a r r o t s : M e t h o d s f o r L o c a l G o v e r n m e n t to G i v e A s s i s t a n c e t o H e r i t a g e P r o p e r t y O w n e r s i n B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . ( d r a f t ) V i c t o r i a : Q u e e n ' s P r i n t e r f o r B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . 1 9 9 1 . M i n i s t r y o f M u n i c i p a l a f f a i r s . R e c r e a t i o n a n d C u l t u r e . H e r i t a g e L e g i s l a t i o n : A G u i d e to C o m m u n i t y H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n . V i c t o r i a : Q u e e n ' s P r i n t e r f o r B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . 1 9 9 1 . M i n i s t r y o f M u n i c i p a l A f f a i r s , R e c r e a t i o n a n d C u l t u r e . H e r i t a g e L e g i s l a t i o n : A W h i t e P a p e r f o r P u b l i c R e v i e w . V i c t o r i a : Q u e e n ' s P r i n t e r f o r B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a M u n i c i p a l A c t . 1 9 9 0 . R S B C 1 9 7 9 , C h a p t e r 2 9 0 ( c o n s o l i d a t e d N o v . 3, 1 9 8 9 ( 1 9 9 0 ) . V i c t o r i a : Q u e e n s ' P r i n t e r f o r B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . C a l g a r y , A l b e r t a . 1 9 7 8 . H e r i t a g e C o m m i t t e e . M u n i c i p a l H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n F r a m e w o r k . C i t y o f C a l g a r y . C . C . P . N e w s l e t t e r . 1 9 8 3 . C o n s t r u c t i v e C i t i z e n P a r t i c i p a t i o n . V o l . 1 1 , N o . 2 , S e p t e m b e r 1 9 8 3 , 3 - 5 . C o l u m b u s , O h i o . 1 9 8 9 . O h i o H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n O f f i c e . C h a r a c t e r i s t i c s o f E f f e c t i v e L o c a l H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n L e g i s l a t i o n . C o l u m b u s : O h i o H i s t o r i c a l S o c i e t y . C o o p e r - H e w i t t M u s e u m . 1 9 8 2 . C i t i e s : T h e F o r c e s t h a t S h a p e T h e m . T h e S m i t h s o n i a n I n s t i t u t i o n ' s N a t i o n a l M u s e u m o f D e s i g n . N e w Y o r k : R i z z o h . D a l i b a r d , J a c q u e s . 1 9 8 6 . " L a w s A r e N o t E n o u g h . " I n C a n a d i a n H e r i t a g e M a g a z i n e . ( A u g u s t - S e p t e m b e r ) O t t a w a : H e r i t a g e C a n a d a . 6 - 7 . 1 9 8 6 . " W h y W e N e e d A N a t i o n a l H e r i t a g e R e v i e w . " I n C a n a d i a n H e r i t a g e M a g a z i n e . O t t a w a : H e r i t a g e C a n a d a ( O c t o b e r - N o v e m b e r ) : 3 8 - 4 3 . . 1 9 9 0 . " H e r i t a g e B e g i n s A t H o m e . " I n C a n a d i a n H e r i t a g e M a g a z i n e . ( S p r i n g ) O t t a w a : H e r i t a g e C a n a d a . 8 - 1 0 . D e n h a n z , M a r c . 1 9 7 8 . P r o t e c t i n g t h e B u i l t E n v i r o n m e n t ( P a r t 1): A s u r v e y o f l e g a l t e c h n i q u e s a t t h e i n t e r n a t i o n a l a n d i n t e r n a t i o n a l l e v e l f o r t h e p r o t e c t i o n o f A r c h i t e c t u r a l a n d h i s t o r i c s i t e s . 2 d e d . , H e r i t a g e C a n a d a L e g i s l a t i v e S e r i e s . . 1 9 8 6 . " T a x e s . " I n C a n a d i a n H e r i t a g e M a g a z i n e . ( M a y - J u n e ) . O t t a w a : H e r i t a g e C a n a d a . 3 8 - 4 1 . D o b b i n , T a n H . 1 9 7 5 . M a n a g e r , T h e Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h T h e a t r e . L e t t e r to M i c h a e l A U e r t o n , G e n e r a l M a n a g e r , V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y S o c i e t y . 2 1 J a n u a r y . F a u l k n e r , J . H u g h . 1 9 7 4 . S e c r e t a r y o f S t a t e . L e t t e r to M a y o r A r t h u r P h i l h p s . 2 2 A p r i l . H a r g r o v e , C . 1 9 9 1 . " B u i l d i n g P a r t n e r s h i p s T h r o u g h H e r i t a g e T o u r i s m . " I n F o r u m , H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n . ( J u l y - A u g u s t ) V o l . 5 1 , # 4 . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : T h e P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . 3 0 - 3 3 . H e r i t a g e C a n a d a . 1 9 9 0 . I m p a c t , A P u b l i c a t i o n o f H e r i t a g e C a n a d a . V o l . 2 , N o . 2 . O t t a w a : H e r i t a g e C a n a d a . I n t e r n a t i o n a l A s s o c i a t i o n f o r M e t r o p o h t a n R e s a r c h a n d D e v e l o p m e n t . 1 9 8 3 . I n t e r m e t P r o j e c t C : S t u d y G r o u p R e p o r t s . I n t e r m e t W o r k i n g P a p e r s S e r i e s . ( M a y ) . J o h v e t , L a w r e n c e . 1 9 7 4 . L e t t e r o f a c c e p t a n c e r e a p p o i n t m e n t a s C h a i r m a n o f t h e " S a v e t h e O r p h e u m F u n d . " 3 0 J a n u a r y 1 9 7 4 . L u c i e n , D a w n . 1 9 8 3 . " N e w s l e t t e r t o F r i e n d s o f t h e P a n t a g e s . " P a n t a g e s C e n t r e . D a w n L u c i e n , P r e s i d e n t f o r B o a r d o f D i r e c t o r s , J a n u a r y 2 1 1 9 8 3 . M a r q u e e . 1 9 8 3 . T h e a t e r P r e s e r v a t i o n I s s u e V o l . 1 5 : N o . 4 . T h e J o u r n a l o f t h e T h e a t r e H i s t o r i c a l S o c i e t y , N e l s o n , R i c h a r d C , V i c e P r e s i d e n t , V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y S o c i e t y , C h a i r m a n , V S S O r p h e u m T h e a t r e C o m m i t t e e , 1 9 7 4 . L e t t e r to M a y o r A r t P h i l l i p s r e " R e n o v a t i o n o f t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e . " 18 J u n e . . 1 9 7 4 . L e t t e r to M a y o r A r t h u r P h i l l i p s r e " R e n o v a t i o n o f O r p h e u m T h e a t r e . " 10 J u l y . , 1 9 7 5 . L e t t e r to A l d e r m a n F r i t z B o w e r s r e " O r p h e u m T h e a t r e - L a c k o f . A d e q u a t e L o b b y S p a c e . " 2 J a n u a r y . N e w Y o r k , N . Y . 1 9 8 3 . D o w n t o w n I d e a E x c h a n g e , t h e N e w s l e t t e r D e d i c a t e d to D o w n t o w n R e v i t a l i z a t i o n . D o w n t o w n R e s e a r c h a n d D e v e l o p m e n t C e n t e r . V o l . 3 0 , N o . 1 6 , (1.5 A u g u s t ) 3 - 8 . O l d h a m , S a l l y G . , J a y n e F . B o y l e & S t u a r t M . G i n s b e r g . 1 9 8 6 . A G u i d e to T a x - a d v a n t a g e d R e h a b i l i t a t i o n . N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : N a t i o n a l T r u s t H i s t o r i c P r e s s . O s b o u r n e , T . 1 9 7 4 . " P e o p l e S a y . . . a s u r v e y o f p u b l i c a c c e p t a n c e c o n c e r n i n g p u r c h a s e o f t h e O R P H E U M T H E A T R E . " B u r n a b y : B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a I n s t i t u t e o f T e c h n o l o g y P h i l h p s , A r t h u r . 1 9 7 5 . M a y o r o f t h e C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r . " L e t t e r to t h e H o n o r a b l e H u g h F a u l k n e r , S e c r e t a r y o f S t a t e , G o v e r n m e n t o f C a n a d a . 2 4 S e p t e m b e r . R a y n e r , G . T . 1 9 7 5 . A c t i n g U n d e r S e c r e t a r y o f S t a t e , G o v e r n m e n t o f C a n a d a , O t t a w a . " L e t t e r to A l d e r m a n F r i t z B o w e r s . " 1 8 S e p t e m b e r . . 1 9 7 5 . " L e t t e r to A l d e r m a n F r i t z B o w e r s . " 8 S e p t e m b e r . . 1 9 7 5 . " L e t t e r to a l d e r m a n F r i t z B o w e r s . " 18 S e p t e m b e r . R y a n , L o m e E . 1 9 7 5 . O f f i c e o f t h e C i t y M a n a g e r . " L e t t e r to G . T . R a y n e r , A c t i n g U n d e r S e c r e t a r y o f S t a t e . " 2 5 S e p t e m b e r . S a f e r , K a r e n J . 1 9 8 2 . " T h e F u n c t i o n s o f D e c o r a t i o n i n t h e A m e r i c a n M o v i e P a l a c e . " I n M a r q u e e : T h e J o u r n a l o f t h e T h e a t r e H i s t o r i c a l S o c i e t y . V o l . 1 4 : N o . 2 . S m i t h s o n i a n I n s t i t u t e , O f f i c e o f C o m m u n i c a t i o n s a n d t h e T h e a t r e H i s t o r i c a l S o c i e t y o f A m e r i c a . V i d e o . T h e M o v i e P a l a c e s n a r r a t e d b y G e n e K e l l y . P . B . S . T e l e c a s t 15 J u l y , 1 9 8 7 . T a c o m a . 1 9 9 0 - 9 1 . B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r D i s t r i c t C a m p a i g n . T a c o m a : C a p i t a ! C a m p a i g n O f f i c e . . 1 9 9 0 - 9 1 . B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r T a s k F o r c e . B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r D i s t r i c t Q & A S u r v e y . B r o a d w a y T h e a t r e D i s t r i c t C a m p a i g n . T a c o m a : C a p i t a l C a m p a i g n O f f i c e . . 1 9 9 0 - 9 1 . P a n t a g e s G r o u p S a l e s . T h e P a n t a g e s : G e t I n v o l v e d i n T a c o m a ' s G r e a t e s t L o v e A f f a i r . T a c o m a : 9 0 1 B r o a d w a y . . 1 9 9 0 - 9 1 . P i e r c e C o u n t y T r a n s i t A u t h o r i t y . L o o k W h a t ' s C o m i n g U p C o m m e r c e S t r e e t . T a c o m a : P i e r c e T r a n s i t . . 1 9 8 9 . P i e r c e C o u n t y T a s k F o r c e f o r t h e A r t s . R e p o r t o n t h e S t a t u s o f t h e A r t s i n T a c o m a / P i e r c e C o u n t y a n d R e c o m m e n d a t i o n s f o r A r t s S t a b i l i z a t i o n . T a c o m a : P i e r c e C o u n t y T a s k F o r c e . . 1 9 8 9 . B r o a d w a y T h e a t e r T a s k F o r c e . R e v i s e d C a p i t a l C a m p a i g n B u d g e t , 9 / 2 8 / 8 9 . T a c o m a : P i e r c e C o u n t y T a s k F o r c e . T o r o n t o , O n t a r i o . 1 9 8 9 . P o l i c y D e v e l o p m e n t D i v i s i o n , M e t r o p o h t a n T o r o n t o P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . H e r i t a g e : M e t r o p o l i t a n P l a n R e v i e w - R e p o r t N o . 1 0 . T o r o n t o : M e t r o p o l i t a n T o r o n t o P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . Vancouver. 1 9 7 3 . C i t y C o u n c i l M e e t i n g . " E x t r a c t f r o m M i n u t e s o f M e e t i n g . " 11 D e c e m b e r . . 1 9 7 4 . D i r e c t o r o f F i n a n c e O f f i c e . M e m o . " O r p h e u m T h e a t r e F u n d R a i s i n g D r i v e . " 12 N o v e m b e r . . 1 9 7 4 . " E x t r a c t F r o m t h e M i n u t e s o f t h e V a n c o u v e r C i t y C o u n c i l " 14 M a y . . 1 9 7 4 . Q u e s t i o n n a i r e . " P e o p l e S a y . . . a s u r v e y o f p u b l i c a c c e p t a n c e c o n c e r n i n g p u r c h a s e o f t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r . F e b r u a r y . . 1 9 7 4 . R e g u l a r C o u n c i l M e e t i n g . " X I H . S p e c i a l C o m m i t t e e o n t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e . " 1 7 D e c e m b e r . . 1 9 7 4 . R e p o r t to C o u n c i l . " S p e c i a l C o m m i t t e e o f C o u n c i l r e T h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e . " 18 F e b r u a r y . . 1 9 7 4 . R e p o r t to C o u n c i l . " S p e c i a l C o m m i t t e e r e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e " 15 M a r c h . . 1 9 7 4 . R e p o r t to C o u n c i l . " S p e c i a l C o m m i t t e e o n t h e O r p h e u m T h e a t r e . " 13 D e c e m b e r . . 1 9 7 5 . M a n a g e r ' s R e p o r t . " O r p h e u m T h e a t r e - P o s s i b l e E c o n o m i e s . " 18 J u n e . . 1 9 7 5 . M e m o . " O r p h e u m T h e a t r e F i n a n c i n g . " D i r e c t o r o f F i n a n c e . 2 J a n u a r y . . 1 9 7 7 . G a l a O r p h e u m O p e n i n g . V a n c o u v e r : V a n c o u v e r S y m p h o n y O r c h e s t r a , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r , 2 A p r i l . . 1 9 8 2 . A i t k e n W r e g l e s w o r t h A s s o c i a t e s . " T h e D o w n t o w n S o u t h U r b a n S t u d y . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 8 2 . " C u n n i n g h a m d u T o i t . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r D o w n t o w n S o u t h U r b a n D e s i g n E x e c u t i v e S u m m a r y . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 8 9 . " H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n P r o g r a m S t a t u s R e p o r t . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 8 9 . " H e r i t a g e R e s o u r c e I n v e n t o r y P h a s e I S u m m a r y . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 8 9 . " R e p o r t s to C o u n c i l . D o w n t o w n S o u t h Z o n i n g . C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 8 9 . " R e p o r t s to C o u n c i l , D o w n t o w n S o u t h R e z o n i n g . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 9 0 . C h a n d l e r K a s i a n K e n n e d y . " G r a n v i l l e S t r e e t B u i l t - F o r m S t u d y . " F o r C i t y of V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 9 0 . " C o a l H a r b o u r D e v e l o p m e n t P r o j e c t C o m m u n i t y F a c i l i t i e s S t u d y . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 9 1 . " D o w n t o w n S o u t h Z o n i n g B u l l e t i n . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 9 1 . " H e r i t a g e P o l i c i e s a n d G u i d l e i n e s . " C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 9 1 . P h i l l i p s C h r i s t o p h e r & A s s o c i a t e s . " D o w n t o w n S o u t h S t r e e t s c a p e D e s i g n S t u d y . " V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1 9 9 1 . " P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t U p d a t e . " N u m b e r 5, D e c e m b e r . C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . . 1991. "Policy Report, Urban Structure." Proposed Heritage L e g i s l a t i o n . Director of Planning, in consultation with the Director of Legal Services. 19 November, 1992. . 1 9 9 1 . " V a n c o u v e r H e r i t a g e I n v e n t o r y , L a n d U s e P o l i c i e s a n d G u i d e l i n e s , " A m e n d e d to 1 8 J u n e , 1 9 9 1 . C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . V a n c o u v e r A r t s C o u n c i l . 1 9 9 1 . The Stanley is for Movies b r o c h u r e . V a n c o u v e r A r t s C o u n c i l , V a n c o u v e r , B . C . V a n c o u v e r F o u n d a t i o n . 1 9 9 0 . A n n u a l R e p o r t . V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . V i c t o r i a , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . M c P h e r s o n P l a y h o u s e F o u n d a t i o n . M c P h e r s o n P l a y h o u s e a n d i t s F o u n d a t i o n . V i c t o r i a : M c P h e r s o n P l a y h o u s e F o u n d a t i o n , # 3 C e n t e n n i a l S q u a r e . W a r d , R o b i n . 1 9 9 1 . Stanely is for Movies b r o c h u r e . S a v e t h e S t a n l e y C o m m i t t e e . V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . 1 9 7 9 . P r e s e r v a t i o n : T o w a r d a n E t h i c i n t h e 1 9 8 0 s . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C . : N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . . 1 9 8 0 . P u b l i c R e l a t i o n s f o r L o c a l P r e s e r v a t i o n O r g a n i z a t i o n s : P r e s s r e l a t i o n s , p u b l i c e d u c a t i o n a n d s p e c i a l e v e n t s . I n f o r m a t i o n S h e e t N u m b e r 24. W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : N a t i o n T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . 1 9 8 1 . P r e s e r v a t i o n o f C o n c e r t H a l l s , O p e r a H o u s e s a n d M o v i e P a l a c e s . I n f o r m a t i o n s h e e t N o . 1 6 . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . . 1 9 8 5 . N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H e r i t a g e P r e s e r v a t i o n . I n v e s t i n g i n V o l u n t e e r s : A g u i d e to e f f e c t i v e v o l u n t e e r m a n a g e m e n t . I n f o r m a t i o n S e r i e s N o . 3 7 . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . -. 1 9 8 9 . A S e l f - A s s e s s m e n t G u i d e f o r C o m m u n i t y P r e s e r v a t i o n O r g a n i z a t i o n s . I n f o r m a t i o n S e r i e s N o . 4 5 . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . . 1 9 9 1 . L e g a l C o n s i d e r a t i o n i n E s t a b h s h i n g a H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n O r g a n i z a t i o n . I n f o r m a t i o n S e r i e s N o . 1 4 . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . . 1 9 9 1 . M e m b e r s h i p D e v e l o p m e n t : A G u i d e f o r N o n p r o f i t P r e s e r v a t i o n O r g a n i z a t i o n s . I n f o r m a t i o n S e r i e s N o . 4 9 . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . . 1 9 9 1 . S t e e r i n g N o n p r o f i t s : A d v i c e f o r b o a r d s a n d s t a f f s . I n f o r m a t i o n S e r i e s N o . 5 4 . W a s h i n g t o n , D . C : N a t i o n a l T r u s t f o r H i s t o r i c P r e s e r v a t i o n P r e s s . Y a t e s , S a r a h . 1 9 8 5 . " T h e G a r d e n s o f G i l t . " I n C a n a d i a n H e r i t a g e M a g a z i n e ( O c t o b e r - N o v e m b e r ) . O t t a w a : H e r i t a g e C a n a d a . 2 1 - 2 6 . N E W S P A P E R S B a r g r e e n , M e l i n d a . 1 9 9 1 . " S e a t t l e m a y t u r n g r e e n a s T a c o m a c o n v e r t s a n o l d m o v i e p a l a c e i n t o a c o n c e r t h a l l : T h e a t e r E n v y . " T h e S e a t t l e T i m e s , S u n d a y , 3 1 M a r c h 1 9 9 1 . C o h e n , J o ë l l e . 1 9 8 1 . " P a n t a g e s F u n d D r i v e N o w i n H i g h G e a r . " T a c o m a N e w s T r i b u n e , 2 0 S e p t e m b e r 1 9 8 1 . D u n c a n , D o n . 1 9 8 3 " T h e P a n t a g e s C o m e s to L i f e . " S e a t t l e T i m e s , 14 F e b r u a r y 1 9 8 3 . J o n e s , G l o r y . 1 9 8 0 " T h e P a n t a g e s . " T h e W e e k l y , 2 3 J u l y 1 9 8 0 . L e h r e n , H a l l . 1 9 7 4 . " D e c i s i o n o n O r p h e u m P u t O f f f o r a M o n t h . " T h e V a n o u v e r S u n . 2 0 F e b r u a r y 1 9 7 4 . M y e r s , L e o n a r d . 1 9 9 2 . " A f t e r t h e F a l l . " T h e V a n c o u v e r S u n , 2 7 F e b r u a r y 1 9 9 2 . R o c h e s t e r , J u n i u s . 1 9 8 4 . " A l e x a n d e r P a n t a g e s - S e a t t l e ' s G i f t to V a u d e v i l l e . " T h e W e e k l y , 6 M a r c h 1 9 8 4 . S y p h e r , R i c h a r d . 1 9 8 3 . " A L i t t l e M a g i c , W o r k C h a n g e d P a n t a g e s . " T a c o m a N e w s T r i b u n e , 10 F e b r u a r y 1 9 8 3 . T a c o m a N e w s T r i b u n e . 1 9 8 3 . " T h e P a n t a g e s C e n t e r f o r t h e P e r f o r m i n g A r t s . " S p e c i a l S u p p l e m e n t to t h e T a c o m a N e w s T r i b u n e , F e b 1 0 1 9 8 3 . W y m a n , M a x . 1 9 7 3 . " M a y o r ' s f o r O r p h e u m - I f D e a l i s R i g h t . " V a n c o u v e r S u n , 3 O c t o b e r 1 9 7 3 . I N T E R V I E W S A s h l e y , E U , M a n a g i n g D i r e c t o r , P a n t a g e s C e n t r e , C i t y o f T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n . 1 9 9 1 . I n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 3 0 A p r i l , T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n . B a r b e r , S t e v e , H e r i t a g e P l a n n e r , C i t y o f V i c t o r i a P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 2 2 J a n u a r y , V a n c o u v e r . B o w e r s , F r i t z , F o r m e r M a n a g e r a n d A l d e r m a n , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . 1 9 9 1 . I n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 1 F e b r u a r y , V a n c o u v e r . C a r i o u , D a r r y l , H e r i t a g e P l a n n e r , C i t y o f E d m o n t o n P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t , E d m o n t o n , A l b e r t a . 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 2 2 J a n u a r y , V a n c o u v e r . C o x , J o h n , C o a l H a r b o u r P r o j e c t , M a r a t h o n R e a l t y , V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 2 6 J u n e , V a n c o u v e r . C u r t i s , R h o n n a , V a n c o u v e r C o m m u n i t y A r t s C o u n c i l M e m b e r , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , 1 9 9 2 . I n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 2 3 J a n u a r y , V a n c o u v e r . D ' A g o s t i n i , M a r c o , H e r i t a g e P l a n n i n g A s s i s t a n t , C i t y of V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a . 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 1 4 F e b r u a r y , V a n c o u v e r . E d e l s o n , N a t h a n , P l a n n e r , D o w n t o w n S o u t h , C i t y o f V a n o c u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 2 1 M a y , V a n c o u v e r . H u o t , W i U i a m J . , M i n i s t r y o f M u n i c i p a l A f f a i r s , R e c r e a t i o n a n d C u l t u r e , H e r i t a g e C o n s e r v a t i o n B r a n c h , G o v e r n m e n t o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , V i c t o r i a , 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w s b y a u t h o r , 2 0 J a n u a r y a n d M a r c h 1 0 , V a n c o u v e r . K l u c k n e r , M i c h a e l , C h a i r m a n , H e r i t a g e V a n c o u v e r C o m m i t t e e , V a n c o u v e r , B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 4 M a r c h , V a n c o u v e r . K o r o p a t n i c k , J a c q u e l i n e , M a r k e t i n g a n d P u b l i c R e l a t i o n s M a n a g e r , Q u e e n E l i z a b e t h , O r p h e u m a n d V a n c o u v e r P l a y h o u s e , 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 5 M a r c h , V a n c o u v e r . L e m o n , R o b e r t , H e r i t a g e P l a n n e r , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t , 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r . M a y 2 0 , V a n c o u v e r . v o n F e r s e n , L o r e n z , S o c i a l P l a n n e r , C i t y o f V a n c o u v e r P l a n n i n g D e p a r t m e n t . 1 9 9 2 . T e l e p h o n e i n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , J u n e 2 6 , 1 9 9 2 , V a n c o u v e r . W o o d , W i l l i a m , T h e a t r e C o n s u l t a n t - R i a l t o T h e a t e r , T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n , 1 9 9 1 . I n t e r v i e w b y a u t h o r , 3 0 , A p r i l , T a c o m a , W a s h i n g t o n . 
work_fwwutfmgjjfj5mwk4pfmxsbpge	----	TRI volume 18 issue 2 Cover and Front matter THEATRE RESEARCH INTERNATIONAL VOLUME 18 NUMBER 2 SUMMER 1993 Oxford University Press in Association with the International Federation for Theatre Research https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0307883300017223 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:09, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0307883300017223 https://www.cambridge.org/core NOTES TO CONTRIBUTORS 1. Contributions should be in English. Two copies of all manuscripts should be sent to the Editor, Department of Theatre Studies, Univer- sity of Glasgow, Glasgow G12 8QF, Scotland. 2. Articles should not exceed 4000 words and must be accompanied by an abstract of approximately 200 words which should be a succinct condensation of the paper. 3. Manuscripts should be typed double-spaced with wide margins. 4. Illustrations (reproducible photographs or line drawings) should be carefully labelled and captioned. 5. Notes must be listed at the end of the manuscript. 6. All articles will be acknowledged upon receipt. Authors should be informed of a decision within four months of receipt. 7. Manuscripts should be checked carefully before submission to avoid difficulties at the proof stage. 8. Book reviews are usually by invitation, but the editors are always ready to consider offers to undertake reviewing. 9. Twenty-five complimentary offprints of each article will be sent to authors; additional offprints are available at the author's expense. Book reviewers will receive a complimentary copy of the journal. 10. Manuscripts are accepted on the understanding that they are original contributions, unpublished and not on offer to another publication. Note to North American Publishers Please send your review copies directly to Professor Gordon Armstrong, Department of Theatre, University of Rhode Island, Kingston, RI 02881-0820. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0307883300017223 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:09, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0307883300017223 https://www.cambridge.org/core THEATRE RESEARCH INTERNATIONAL Volume 18 Number 2 Contents ARTICLES ANDREW GURR, The Chimera of Amalgamation 85 F. W. J. HEMMINGS, After the Last Bow: The Fate of Superannuated Actors in Nineteenth-Century France 94 ELI ROZIK, The Functions of Language in the Theatre 104 MICHAEL QUINN, Havel's Actors 115 LEANORE LIEBLEIN, 'LesGrecs' aia Francaise 123 REVIEWS DAVID IAN RABEY, A Review of Playtexts Published in Britain, 1991-2 138 JEAN I. MARSDEN, ed., The Appropriation of Shakespeare: Post-Renaissance Reconstructions of the Works and the Myth (Robert G. Egan) 143 JUDD D. HUBERT, Metatheatre: The Example of Shakespeare (Daniel J. Watermeier) 144 M. M. MAHOOD, Bit Parts in Shakespeare's Plays (Nigel Warrington) 144 ALEXANDRA GLANZ, (ed. by Harald Zielske), Alessandro Galli-Bibiena (1686-1748), Inventore della Scene und Premier Architecteur am kurpfdlzischen Hofin Mannheim (Michael Patterson) 145 DONALD PERRET, Old Comedy in the French Renaissance (1576-1620) (W. D. Howarth) 146 JOHN RUDLIN & NORMAN H. PAUL, eds., Copeau: Texts on Theatre (Judith G. Miller) 146 ROBERT HARVARD, ed., Lorca: Poet and Playwright. Essays in Honour of J. M. Aguirre (Victor Dixon) 147 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0307883300017223 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:09, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0307883300017223 https://www.cambridge.org/core PIA KLEBER & COLIN VISSER, eds., Re-interpreting Brecht: His Influence on Contemporary Drama and Film (Christopher McCullough) 148 RALPH YARROW, ed., European Theatre 1960-1990 (David Bradby) 148 SUSAN CARLSON, Women and Comedy: Remitting the British Theatrical Tradition (Alan Hughes) 149 SUE-ELLEN CASE, ed., Performing Feminisms: Feminist Critical Theory and Theatre (Stacy Wolf) 150 MIRA FELNER, Free to Act: An Integrated Approach to Acting (Stephen M. Archer) 150 ERIKA FISCHER-LICHTE, JOSEPHINE RILEY & MICHAEL GISSENWEHRER, eds., The Dramatic Touch of Difference: Theatre Own and Foreign (Brian Singleton) 151 IRVING WARDLE, Theatre Criticism (Michael Mangan) 152 RAYMONDE TEMKINE, Le Theatre en 1 'Etat (Georges Baal) 153 MICHEL CORVIN, ed., Dictionnaire encyclopedique du theatre (Martin Banham) 154 MURRAY COX, ed., Shakespeare Comes to Broadmoor: The Actors Are Come Hither. The Performance of Tragedy in a Secure Psychiatric Setting (Ditty Dokter) 154 PRESENTATION DES ARTICLES 15 6 BOOKS RECEIVED 158 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0307883300017223 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:09, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0307883300017223 https://www.cambridge.org/core EDITOR CLAUDE SCHUMACHER, Reader in Theatre Studies, University of Glasgow ASSISTANT EDITORS: DAVID WALKER, Professor of French, University of Keele & ALASDAIR CAMERON; Senior Lecturer in Theatre Studies, University of Glasgow REVIEW EDITORS: Brian Singleton, Lecturer in Theatre Studies, Samuel Beckett Centre, Trinity- College, DUBLIN 2, Eire & USA: Gordon Armstrong, Professor of Theatre, University of Rhode Island, Kingston, RI 02881-0820 EDITORIAL BOARD Glynne Wickham, Emeritus Professor of Drama, University of Bristol (Chairman) Michael Anderson, Professor of Drama, University of Kent, Canterbury Georges Baal, Directeur de Recherches, C.N.R.S., Paris Jack Reading, Society for Theatre Research, London, UK. Kenneth R. Richards, Professor of Drama, Victoria Univer- sity of Manchester, UK Robert K. Sarlos, Professor Emeritus, Department of Dramatic Art, Davis, California Jacques Scherer, Professor, Institut d'Etudes Theatrales, Universite de Paris III, France Zbigniew Wilski, Professor, Instytut Sztuki PAN, Warsaw, Poland David Whitton, Department of French, Lancaster University Theatre Research International is published by Oxford University Press for the International Federation for Theatre Research/Federation Internationale pour la Recherche Theatrale. The Journal covers the historical, critical, and theoretical study of documentation of drama, conceived as the art of the theatre and publishes original articles on performance, acting and production techniques, theatre architecture, and actors' social conditions. Contributions appear only in English, but articles are provided with resumes in French. The motif on our cover was designed by Josef Svoboda for Theatre Research /Recherches Theatrales in 1966 and presented to the International Federation for Theatre Re- search/Federation Internationale pour la Recherche Theatrale. Theatre Research International is published three times a year, in Spring, Summer and Autumn at a price of £52.00 (UK and Europe) $104 (Rest of world], with single issues at £20 (UK and Europe) $40 (Rest of world]. Prices include postage by surface mail or, for subscribers in the USA and Canada by Airfreight or in Japan, Australia, New Zealand and India by Air Speeded Post. Air mail rates are available on request. Payment is required with all orders and subscrip- tions are accepted and entered by the volume/s. Payment can be made by the following methods: Cheque (made payable to Oxford University Press). National Girobank (Account 500 1056], Credit Card (Access, Visa, American Express, Diners Club), UNESCO Coupons. 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work_g63tefd7ibgvflhishzolnsr6e	----	Durham Research Online Deposited in DRO: 07 May 2014 Version of attached �le: Accepted Version Peer-review status of attached �le: Peer-reviewed Citation for published item: Banks, Kathryn (2012) '`I speak like John about the Apocalypse' : Rabelais, prophecy, and �ction.', Literature and theology., 26 (4). pp. 417-438. Further information on publisher's website: http://dx.doi.org/10.1093/litthe/frs050 Publisher's copyright statement: This is a pre-copyedited, author-produced PDF of an article accepted for publication in Literature and Theology following peer review. The de�nitive publisher-authenticated version Kathryn Banks (2012) `I speak like John about the Apocalypse': Rabelais, Prophecy, and Fiction, Literature and Theology, 26 (4): 417-438 is available online at: http://dx.doi.org/10.1093/litthe/frs050. 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Introduction Can fictions ‘prophesy’? What relationship might they have to apocalypse, in the sense of both the end of the world and also revelation? The connection between poetry and prophecy is omnipresent in the West, from ancient Greece and biblical Israel; i the novelist Andrew Crumey has recently explored whether novels are ‘prophetic’;ii web forums attest to an interest in whether films like Alex Proyas’s Knowing (2009) can teach us about apocalypse.iii However, in the period of the Renaissance and Reformation, such questions must have taken on particular weight, for two reasons. First, apocalyptic discourses enjoyed an increased currency,iv as did prophetic readings of biblical texts such as Revelation and Daniel,v and medieval prophets such as Joachim of Fiore.vi History was generally thought to have reached its final stage, a belief which could be grounded in the four monarchies of Daniel or the triadic prophecy of Elias, the two schemes of periodization which dominated sixteenth-century historical thought.vii The upheavals of the Reformation were so significant that it seemed they must belong to the events of the final phase of history; the new prophets of the Reformation – whether considered false or true – must be those expected to arrive as the Apocalypse approached.viii Secondly, the notion of specifically poetic prophecy acquired renewed vigour, associated in particular with a conception of fiction as a prophetic veil for truth.ix It would be fruitful to engage with these contexts of religious history and literary history together, considering what it means that, at one and the same time, prophecy was becoming more important in the literary and the religious and political domains. Frank Kermode opposed ‘naively predictive’ apocalyptic concepts of time to ‘complex’ modern ones, and argued that modern literature fictionalized the apocalyptic paradigm, setting it in balance with a modern view of time as an entity which stretched interminably into both past and future, in order to explore a ‘sense of an ending’.x However, while it was almost universally believed in the sixteenth century that time was a finite structure, and that the present moment was situated towards the end of it, ‘naively predictive’ views were not dominant, and models of apocalyptic time were varied, complex and mysterious. So it might be unsurprising if in fact the literature of apocalyptic cultures – and perhaps especially of apocalyptic cultures – explored apocalyptic paradigms. Furthermore, pre-modern European cultures were very aware of the etymology of apocalypse (from the Greek noun meaning an uncovering or disclosure), so their apocalyptic fiction might deal with revelation as much as with the ‘sense of an ending’. Indeed, while, as Kermode showed, literary forms function well to investigate the end and the structure of time, because they have their own endings and their own structures, texts which we call ‘literary’ also tend to be interested in their own representational practices and, in the Renaissance, even to conceive of them as prophecy.xi Thus literary texts might explore revelation and prophecy as much as endings. 2 So, how were fictions and poems employed to imagine the apocalyptic end or to approach revelation? How did apocalyptic expectation shape conceptions of poetic prophecy or of fiction? What relationships existed between literary and non-literary prophecy? This essay is part of a larger project intended to address these questions and represents a first step in exploring them in relation to the comic fictions of François Rabelais. Rabelais’s writing is far from representative however it offers an insight into what could be done with poetic prophecy in an apocalyptic age. At the same time, this essay seeks to show that analysing Rabelais from the angle of apocalypse and prophecy provides a useful approach to the perennial questions in Rabelais studies of hermeneutics and epistemology. As we shall see, it illuminates i n particular the question of the letter and the spirit, and points to a notion of embodied revelation. Rabelais borrows from the Book of Revelation and evokes apocalypse. xii For example, in Gargantua, the text most obviously concerned with apocalyptic matters, the ‘fanfreluches antidotées’,xiii a verse prophecy placed towards the beginning of the text, plays with apocalyptic time;xiv towards the end of the text, Rabelais draws on biblical conceptions of Jerusalem to depict the fictional Thélème,xv then, a second verse prophecy, an ‘enigma’ found amongst the foundations of Thélème, evokes the suffering of the elect during the end times.xvi While the combination of Thélème and the verse prophecies points to a quasi-millenarian view, imagining an end times which combines joy with conflict,xvii the two verse prophecies which frame the text undercut this by highlighting how opaque apocalyptic prophecy can be. As André Tournon has shown, the ‘fanfreluches’ trouble the narrative temporality of apocalypse in a way whi ch reflects the unthinkable temporality of the Book of Revelation itself. xviii In the case of the ‘enigma’, the uncertainty of apocalyptic interpretations is thematized in the text. This is the most obvious example of how, in Rabelais’s fictions, evocations of apocalypse tend to highlight the hermeneutic complexities associated with it. Furthermore, Tournon has suggested that we should consider the problematization in Gargantua of reading apocalyptic prophecy as a reflection on the difficulties of reading Rabelaisian fiction.xix Dennis Costa has argued more generally that Rabelais conceives of signification and interpretation according to an apocalyptic paradigm which Costa defines – using modern theory and Wittgenstein as well as a reading of Revelation – as a ‘fullness of knowledge of which lack or not-knowing is thoroughly, even pre-eminently a part’.xx The suggestion that hermeneutic issues surrounding apocalypse are relevant to reading Rabelais constitutes the starting point for this essay, which focuses on the implications of apocalypse and the Book of Revelation for writing and reading fiction. Therefore I will investigate passages which both contain evocations of Revelation or apocalypse and also deal with writing or reading or interpreting. This entails moving between Rabelais’s four books and, furthermore, focusing especially on passages taken from almost opposite ends of his fictional cycle, namely the prologue to the first book and the frozen words episode found in chapters 55-56 of the Fourth Book.xxi There are important differences between the books, not least an increasingly dark tonality reflecting an intensification of religious and social tension over the course of the 1530s; however Rabelais’s evocations of apocalypse are dotted about through his fictions. In addition, whereas Rabelais’s prologues are often examined in isolation, here I will 3 analyse a prologue in dialogue with the body of the fictions, since Revelation plays a role in both. The essay begins with a discussion of the prologue to the first edition of the first of Rabelais’s fictions, Pantagruel (1532). This is particularly promising for my concerns because Rabelais develops the notion of poetic prophecy in an unusual direction by comparing himself to the author of the Book of Revelation, the Christian prophet of apocalypse, John. The conceptualisation of prophetic poetry in sixteenth-century France has been analysed overwhelmingly in relation to verse, especially that of Pléiade poets such as Pierre de Ronsard or Pontus de Tyard who made reasonably programmatic statements about it,xxii as well as poems of confessional polemic, chiefly Agrippa d’Aubigné’s Tragiques but also Ronsard’s polemical exchanges with Geneva theologians. xxiii However, the Renaissance defined ‘poetry’ in a number of ways, of which verse and metre were only one possibility, and, in the absence of an overarching category of ‘literature’ like our own,xxiv notions of ‘poetry’ undoubtedly served to conceptualise the status and nature of prose texts which we would describe as ‘literary’. Thus the famous fifteenth-century Italian Neoplatonist Marsilio Ficino formulated a notion of ‘poetic prose’, and some writers – including, in the 1540s and 1550s, French near- contemporaries of Rabelais, such as Hélisenne de Crenne, François Habert, and Louis Le Caron – identified their own prose as poetic. In this context, ‘poetic’ appears first and foremost to indicate inspiration, as well as (to varying degrees) figures, fictions, and allegories.xxv Therefore, the notion of poetic prophecy should be examined in prose texts as well as verse ones, to assess the varying implications it could have in different sorts of fictions, not least comic ones such as Rabelais’s tales about giants. Indeed Rabelais was described by some contemporaries or near-contemporaries as a ‘poet’, although in at least some cases this seems to reflect the small amount of verse he wrote.xxvi Furthermore, he was interested in the possibilities of prophetic or inspired discourse: while he mocked simplistically predictive approaches to the future, in mock-prognostications as well as in his fiction,xxvii he explored the claims to knowledge of, among others, a dying poet.xxviii Most importantly, in his prologues Rabelais engages topoi of poetic prophecy, in particular drinking. For example, the prologue to Gargantua suggests that Rabelais’s fictions contain a ‘higher’ meaning of which Rabelais – or rather his narrator, Alcofribas xxix – is not himself aware, any more than Homer was conscious of the meanings to be found in the Iliad or the Odyssey. The assertion that Homer’s poems must be of divine origin was commonplace in the Renaissance, and Alcofribas implies that his own work may be similarly inspired. He claims that he was drinking while writing, as is appropriate ‘for writing of these high topics and profound teachings, as Homer well knew’.xxx Such claims to inspiration contain comic exaggeration, as well as co-existing with indications of conscious intention.xxxi This may, it seems to me, reflect an evangelical concern with the distance between divine truth and human creation. xxxii Rabelais’s humour serves to make us cautious about the senses in which we interpret Alcofribas’s writing as resembling prophecy. Perhaps his writing is like prophecy in some ways – in a lack of conscious intention underlying some of its meanings, or, as we shall see, in its 4 modes of sense-making – but the narrator does not, at least with any certainty and without ambivalence, lay claim to divine inspiration.xxxiii Nicolas Le Cadet argues convincingly that evangelical fiction, including Rabelais’s, manifests a tension between a desire to pursue topics which might entail dogma tism (both ‘high mysteries’ and also polemic) on the one hand, and, on the other hand, a typically evangelical concern with the gulf between divine truth and human creations.xxxiv I would suggest that this tension shows why the notion of prophecy is relevant to Rabelais. Prophecy can be conceived precisely as both fulminating against social and ecclesiastical wrongs but also as producing meanings which can be multiple, and as speaking with a voice whose status may be uncertain. Rabelais certainly resembles a prophet insofar as he rails against moral failings, as Gérard Defaux has highlighted in a book appropriately subtitled ‘du rieur au prophète’. xxxv Rabelais also implies, for example in the prologue to Gargantua, that he is inspired and thus may serve as the reader’s conduit towards ‘high mysteries’. However, at the same time, an evangelical concern with the distance between human and divine may explain why Rabelais couples prophetic claims with laughter. Moreover, a s we shall see, the ways in which Rabelais conceives prophecy also cast light on his particular employment of evangelical thinking, including its emphasis on the letter and the spirit. II. Fiction and Prophecy: the prologue (and conclusion) to Pantagruel As Timothy Hampton observes, the prologue to Pantagruel contrasts Rabelais’s writing with the literalism of the Jews, thus announcing a concern with letter and spirit which will permeate Rabelais’s text.xxxvi Rabelais (or, rather, Alcofribas) asserts that he is not talking like the authors of the Old Tes tament and that he does not lie: the implication seems to be that, because he is not speaking literally, his fictions are not lies; in the terms of the crucial Pauline distinction, his fictions should be read according to the spirit as well as the letter. While Rabelais’s claims to truth-telling are on some occasions simply parody in the vein of Lucian,xxxvii the evocation of Old Testament literalism suggests that the letter-spirit distinction is at play here. This distinction between letter and spirit, derived from Paul and from Augustine,xxxviii was fundamental to the Reformation. It was central to Luther’s early exegetical work, in which it served to assert ‘that Scripture is not God’s Word until the Spirit makes it such by accomplishing an actual correspondence be tween the reader and the realities depicted by the text’.xxxix It was also deeply important to Erasmus and to early sixteenth-century evangelism. For Erasmus, the letter-spirit distinction meant that Scripture, in particular the Old Testament, should not always be taken literally: Christians should look beyond the literal interpretations favoured by Jews, so that, for example, where Jews are required to abstain from pork, Christians should reject ‘swinish’ passions.xl These concerns with the role of the reader and with literal and figurative interpretations have some echoes in Rabelais’s conception of his fiction, as we shall see, however it is striking that Rabelais employs the letter-spirit distinction precisely in relation to his own fiction rather than to Scripture. 5 The argument that a contrast is being made between letter and spirit becomes stronger if we examine the original 1532 version of the prologue, s ince it, unlike the 1542 text analysed by Hampton, contrasts Jewish literalism explicitly with the New Testament and, more specifically, with the Book of Revelation, and thus with biblical prophecy: ‘Car ne croyez (si ne voulez errer à vostre escient) que j’en parle comme les juifz de la loy. Je ne suis nay en telle planette, et ne m’advint oncques de mentir, ou asseurer chose que ne feust veritable : agentes et consencientes, cest a dire qui na conscience na rien. Jen parle comme sainct Jehan de Lapocalypse : quod vidimus testamur. C’est des horribles faictz et prouesses de Pantagruel, lequel j’ay servy à gaiges […]’xli The removal in 1542 of the biblical comparison for Rabelais’s fiction made any indication of the letter-spirit contrast less pronounced and Rabelais chose to rewrite the passage in a way which, as Andrea Frisch has observed,xlii reinforced the interpretation of it as a parodic Lucianesque claim to truth-telling (a move apparently motivated in part by the desire to mock the hypocrisy of protonotariesxliii). The removal of the reference to Revelation, was, according to Defaux, motivated by prudence and the desire to avoid implying any irreverence towards the Bible.xliv This explanation seems plausible: the 1530s witnessed increasing religious tensions and, since Rabelais also removed the prologue’s other comparison of fiction to the Bible,xlv it does seem that, rather than simply wanting to rewrite the passage which mentioned Revelation, he considered comparisons between fiction and the Bible per se to be undesirable. When in pre-1542 editions Rabelais compared his writing to apocalyptic prophecy, he was not following sixteenth-century literary convention. Among poets, it would be an increasingly familiar move to suggest that poetic fictions constituted prophecy, understood as an indirect mode of expression. However, whereas Rabelais refers to biblical prophecy, poets usually cited pagan fictions believed to be prophetic, such as Homer’s. Yet comparisons between biblical and non-biblical fictions did have a respectable pedigree. When, in Questions on the Gospels, Augustine insists, like Rabelais, on distinguishing between fiction which is a lie and fiction which is truth expressed ‘figuratively’ (‘aliqua figura veritatis’), he observes that ‘otherwise everything that has been said in figurative form (‘figurate’) by wise men and saints or even by our Lord Himself would be regarded as a lie’: fictions which do not lie are compared to the non-literal modes of expression used by Jesus and the saints.xlvi Scotus Eriugena goes further in comparing the moral and material lessons taught by epic poets like Homer ‘by way of fictitious myths’ (‘fabulas fictas’) to the ‘fictitious imaginings’ (‘fictis imaginationibus’) of Scripture. Boccaccio similarly asks ‘what kind of thing is it, if not a poetical fiction, when in the Scriptures Christ is said now to be a lion and now a lamb and now a worm, and then a dragon and then a rock, and so in divers other manners […]?’xlvii Rabelais takes up the comparison between biblical fictions and other ones but suggests that the former might provide an analogy not only for the fictions of pagan 6 poets like Homer but also for his own comic fictions, not only for Homeric epic but also for his own mock-epic. Rabelais also hints that there is a parallel between his fiction and the Bible in the sense that engaging with his fiction correctly might function as a sign of something like salvation. The prologue to Pantagruel suggests that Alcofribas will be damned if he lies and his readers similarly if they do not ‘firmly believe’.xlviii Likewise the conclusion to Pantagruel (from the 1534 edition onwards) indicates that Rabelais’s desired readers are more ‘worthy’ of ‘forgiveness’ or ‘remission’ (‘dignes de pardon’) than those who read in order to slander him.xlix Furthermore, the list of those less deserving of pardon overlaps with the list of those excluded from Thélème, a refuge which in some ways recalls Jerusalem in Revelation: both lists include, as well as lawyers, a number of words meaning something like hypocrite or feigner, some of which ( cagotz, hypocrites, caffars) are exactly the same in both lists.l Defining one’s enemies as false Christians and predicting that they will not be saved was a familiar move to be found in many polemical texts. In addition, hypocrites or feigners – false Christians – were to be expected in the final stages of history; indeed the list of synonyms in the Thélème inscriptions includes gotz and magotz, recalling Gog and Magog, apocalyptic enemies from the Book of Revelation. The question of how to read – and the role of the literal and the figurative – was also central to Reformation polemic and to the question of salvation: the central question of the Reformation was how to understand the ‘this is my body’ which instituted the Eucharist. However, it is striking that it is the appropriate reading of Rabelaisian fiction – rather than the Bible – which is the touchstone of being ‘worthy of forgiveness’. Yet, even if Augustine compared biblical fictions to other ones, comic fictions about giants seem an odd analogue for them. The evangelical emphasis on the distance between human productions and divine truth meant that evangelical writing was inflected by various notions of ‘speaking otherwise’, such as negative theology.li Nonetheless, fictions about giants seem a strange locus of hidden truths. One might say that the letter seems, in this case, to be very distant from the elusive spirit. However, the same might be said about the Book of Revelation, the text to which Rabelais directly compares his own. Although some sixteenth-century commentators claimed to be able to solve its mysteries,lii Revelation is, and was, generally considered to be the most enigmatic book of the Bible.liii While Rabelais’s fictions recount the battles and journeys of a giant, Revelation describes angels blowing trumpets, horsemen, struggles with a dragon, and so on. Although some parts of the texts appear more transparent than others, it can be a challenge to locate definite meanings beyond the literal ones of John’s visions or of Pantagruel’s adventures. Therefore we should nuance the standard reading of the prologue insofar as it equates the opposition between Law and Revelation with one between ‘imperfect, indirect, and figurative’ Old Testament revelation and ‘complete, di rect’ New Testament revelation.liv It is true that the letter-spirit distinction was typically taken to mean that the Old Testament hints at what is said more clearl y in the Gospel. However the Book of Revelation, to which Rabelais refers, surely cannot stand for ‘direct’ revelation against ‘figurative’ revelation. More generally in the New Testament, revelation is a dominant 7 theme but it tends to point forward to a future denouement when all will at last be made plain, while in the present we ‘see through a glass darkly’ (1 Cor. 13:12). Revelation can produce mystification as much as enlightenment, and visions do not offer answers unless their enigmatic imagery is interpreted, which is not the case in the Book of Revelation.lv So, since the literal offers no transparent access to the spirit, it remains stubbornly important, despite the fact that Alcofribas has indicated the need to read beyond it: in Revelation John records his visions without explicating them and, similarly, Alcofribas sets out to ‘bear witness to what [he has] seen’, in his case ‘the horrifying deeds and exploits of Pantagruel’.lvi In addition, the prologue’s comparison of Alcofribas to John calls to mind the Gospel of John as well as Revelation. In the Renaissance, it was commonly believed that both texts were written by the same John and, while Alcofribas claims to speak like John in Revelation, his citation – quod vidimus testamur – comes from the Gospel of John. Critics have observed that the biblical passage preceding the verse cited concerns the distinction between flesh and spirit, closely related to Alcofribas’s contrast between literalism and prophetic visions.lvii Moreover we should note that the verse forms part of Jesus’s statement that his testimony should be received because he came down from heaven,lviii and that, as such, it touches on a fundamental aspect of the Gospel of John: as Christopher Rowland explains, the Johannine Gospel bears a ‘remarkable affinity’ to the final book of the New Testament since it is deeply concerned with revelation, but the mode of revelation differs, occurring not through visions but rather through Jesus, that is, through the Word become Flesh. The Gospel of John ins ists that revelation is to be found in the ‘earthly life’ and ‘human story’ of Jesus.lix Thus, insofar as Alcofribas evokes the Gospel of John, he points to a notion of revelation as fundamentally embodied, dependent on the flesh even as it points to the spirit. The contrast between Jews and John thus seems less to promote the spirit over the letter than to evoke the paradox central to Christianity, that is, the convergence of Word and flesh, and, by extension, of spirit and letter. The two books by John(s) have similar implications for the fiction with which they are compared: to put it somewhat schematically, the Book of Revelation points to a revelation bound up with the letter, and the Gospel of John to a revelation bound up with the body. So, how should readers engage with this ‘revelation’? The conclusion to Pantagruel describes the desired reading practice – that which is more ‘worthy of forgiveness’ – as a ‘passetemps’ (‘pastime’), to be compared with Rabelais’s writing ‘passant temps’ (‘passing the time’).lx While at first glance this suggests that reading and writing fiction are only about having fun, in the Gargantua prologue, for example, writing while having fun shades into inspiration, through the idea of drinking.lxi Furthermore, Rabelais asks readers to ‘drink’ with him so that writer and readers form a convivial community of ‘speakers’ and ‘drinkers’, something like that in Plato’s Symposium.lxii Thus, as various critics have noted, there are suggestions that reading, like writing, might involve inspiration. Indeed, in the prologue to the Third Book, readers are invited precisely to drink from a bottle Rabelais describes as ‘my one true Helicon, my Caballine stream, my sole breath of Enthusiasm’.lxiii Within the fictions, too, there are a number of instances which explore the possibility that inspiration plays an 8 important role in interpretation.lxiv The idea that interpretation of texts is inspired recalls the notion that exegesis of the Bible constitutes ‘prophecy’. As Erasmus explained, Paul uses prophecy in this sense.lxv Joachim of Fiore’s creative reading of the Book of Revelation was itself considered as prophecy.lxvi Similarly, Rabelais suggests that reading his fiction – or, if we take seriously the comparison with John, his ‘prophecy’ – might involve inspiration and be described using the topoi of poetic prophecy. But what would such reading look like? Rabelais’s assertion in the Pantagruel prologue that his readers should ‘firmly believe’ his fiction or be damned in part provides Lucianesque comedy. However, since Rabelais has just differentiated fiction from literalistic assertions which constitute lies, the reader is also invited to ‘believe’ the fiction on a non-literal level, that is, to engage with it in a way which seeks truth beyond literal meanings. Similarly, the conclusion to Pantagruel implies that reading should move beyond the literal, or at least beyond a mode of interpretation dependent on definitions. A long list of verbs indicates what are harmful reading practices: ‘articulant, monorticulant, torticulant, culletant, couilletant, et diablicunt, c’est à dire callumniant’.lxvii The list associates slanderous reading with contorsion (‘torticulant’), undignified and non-rational parts of the body (bum and bollocks, ‘culletant, couilletant’), and the devil (‘diablicunt’). However, what interests me is that the first verb, which seems to inspire the development of the list, is articuler. This meant ‘to articulate, article, reduce into articles, divide, or distinguish by severall heads, titles, or summes; precisely, and particularly to describe, or point out’. lxviii It refers to a method of interpretation which is analytical, which depends on differentiating and defining. The second word in the list may in addition imply univocal reading, since it combines articuler with mono.lxix Thus the correct mode of reading, which is opposed to this one, presumably allows for non-literal levels of meaning, ones which do not depend on primary definitions. This fits well with Rabelais’s differentiation of his fiction from literalism in the prologue. However, as we have seen, the prologue also suggests that the literal does have a role to play: ‘speaking like John’ points to a revelation dependent on the letter and on the embodied. So, how might reading allow for this role of the literal? III. Approaching ‘Revelation’: the frozen words To explore further the question of reading, and its relationship with revelation and the end of the world, I turn now to the encounter with the frozen words in Rabelais’s Fourth Book. It is, like many Rabelaisian episodes, a mise-en-scène of interpretation. Furthermore, one response to the interpretative situation is designated as a ‘passetemps’, an echo – across the distance of Rabelais’s four books – of the description in the conclusion to Pantagruel of the correct readerly response to Rabelais’s fiction. In addition, like the list of those excluded from Thélème, the frozen words include an echo of the Book of Revelation in the form of a reference to Gog and Magog. Finally, I will suggest that the episode illuminates the question of reading ‘revelations’ which are embodied and dependent on letter as well as spirit. 9 The friends are on a sea voyage to seek the oracle of the ‘Divine Bottle’ when Pantagruel hears voices ‘talking in the air’.lxx In the first half of the episode, in Chapter 55, Pantagruel sifts through his bank of erudition for information which might assist the search for an explanation. He recasts Petron’s idea explained in Plutarch’s On the Decline of Oracles, suggesting that the Words and Ideas of all things, past and future, are contained in a ‘Manor of Truth’, some remaining there until the end of the world but others descending onto humanity within historical time. Also the words of Homer (the archetypal prophetic poet) were described by Aristotle as ‘fluttering, flying, moving things and consequently animate’. And Plato’s teachings were said to be like frozen words because they are understood not immediately but gradually, over the course of a lifetime. Perhaps, Pantagruel says, this could be the place where such words melt. Or, they might find here the severed but ever-lamenting head of Orpheus, inspired poet and supposed author of the Orphic hymns.lxxi However, at the outset of the second half of the episode, in Chapter 56, the ship’s pilot explains that the sounds are from a battle which took place at the beginning of the previous winter: they froze and now are melting, which is why Pantagruel can hear them. Indeed the sounds will include gunfire and throats being cut.lxxii There is, as critics have observed, a distinction to be made between Pantagruel’s reflections concerning the voices and the pilot’s explanation of them. While Pantagruel did suggest that words might be melting , it is not, for example, the case that truth of the kind to be revealed at the end of the world is also falling from the heavens before that end. Some critics emphasise this contrast strongly. However, referring to the different understandings of the prophetic enigma in Gargantua, Tournon has pointed out that many Rabelaisian episodes stage diverse interpretations of the phenomena (or texts) which the characters encounter, and that often the most satisfactory reading we can produce is one which preserves some co-existence or play between the different interpretations offered.lxxiii Thus an appropriate reading of the frozen words episode might be one which preserved some play between Pantagruel’s musings and the pilot’s identification of the battle sounds . Tournon himself incorporated into his interpretation of the episode Pantagruel’s interest in truth.lxxiv Building on the work of Jean-Yves Pouilloux,lxxv Tournon emphasized that the pilot’s explanation does not invalidate the seeking of truth but rather modifies how we can understand it. The pilot’s response to Pantagruel does not suggest that truth cannot be found: he states simply that the words originate from a battle. This indicates that they do not represent truth descending from the heavens; however truth might still be sought in the world. The means by which to proceed appears to be the creative exchange of words. In Chapter 56, after the pilot has explained the provenance of the words, Pantagruel casts fistfuls of them onto the deck, then the friends play with them, melting them so they can be heard, throwing them and catching them. They also play with words in the more usual sense of engaging in wordplay. In addition, arguably Pantagruel’s evocation of voices ‘parlans en l’air’ (‘talking in the air’) indicates the desirability of at least attempting to use them to approach truth. As Jan Miernowski observed, ‘parlans en l’air’ cites 1 Cor.14:9,lxxvi a verse from a passage with which Rabelais also engages at other points in his fictions.lxxvii On the one hand, the citation constitutes an early 10 indication that any hopes for oracular clarity from the voices will be disappointed, since 1 Cor.14 discusses sounds (those of glossolalia) which, because of their unintelligibility, are of no use to the church.lxxviii However, Paul immediately proceeds to suggest that all utterances are significant: 1 Cor 14:10, ‘nihil sine voce est’, is given in most sixteenth- century vernacular translations as ‘nothing is without meaning’. lxxix Furthermore, Paul states that one should pray for the ability to interpret unintelligible sounds for the benefit of the community.lxxx The wordplay of Chapter 56 does not constitute interpretation in any narrow sense: most of the sounds ‘in the air’ are incomprehensible, remaining ‘languaige Barbare’ or ‘motz barbares’,lxxxi and thus recalling Paul’s suggestion that if utterances are not understood, then their speaker will appear to us a ‘barbarus’ (‘foreigner’).lxxxii Nonetheless, while not interpretation in the narrow sense, the wordplay does at least constitute a response to the sounds, and is one which engages the group (even if, ultimately, it results in frustration and annoyance). Although the sounds do not allow for anything like a perfect interpretation, reactions to them which are possible are developed creatively by the group (who perhaps thereby resemble Rabelais’s ideal readers, invited to respond with magnanimity however imperfect the offering lxxxiii). What can we deduce about the mechanisms for playing with words and seeking truth? Le Cadet stresses the transfigurative power of wordplay, which transforms sounds of battle into discussion of love and lawyers.lxxxiv Tournon highlights the emphasis on motz de gueule which, he suggests, represent words which can, within a generous community, be interpreted in imaginative ways which run counter to their usual meanings.lxxxv Quint emphasizes the importance of temporal process, since the words and sounds have to be allowed to melt.lxxxvi I will argue that one crucial aspect of the various modes of playing with words in the episode is their movement, in a number of senses, between the figurative and the literal. On the one hand, ‘playing’ with words becomes literal, as the frozen words are physical objects. On the other hand, Pantagruel moves creatively between the literal and the figurative, taking figuratively Panurge’s requests to be given or sold words. Furthermore, as we shall see, the question of the literal and the figurative is worth exploring in the first half of the episode as well, and the evocation of the Book of Revelation also points to the issue. In addition, as Michel Jeanneret demonstrated, the encounter with the frozen words forms part of a sequence of episodes concerned with literal and figurative language.lxxxvii This interest in the literal and the figurative raises, once again, the question of the Pauline distinction between letter and spirit. For Defaux, analyzing the relationship between letter and spirit strengthened the contrast between the two halves of the episode. He argued that Pantagruel’s reflections neglect the fact that ‘the spirit presupposes the letter’,lxxxviii and he perceived further oppositions between revelation and violence, and between Homeric words and those of the battle.lxxxix Such an approach represents a ‘common understanding’ of the episode.xc However, I will argue that the relationships between spirit and letter, revelation and violence, and Homeric words and bloody words should not be thought of as oppositions. At the same time, the episode does invite us to think about these pairs , and a fresh 11 approach to them will enable us to incorporate Pantagruel’s musings into a reading of the episode which says something about truth-seeking and ‘revelation’. The only recognizable words (or, in the terms of Aristotelian philosophy, the only voces which signify ad placitumxci) among the frozen sounds of battle are goth and magoth. While these could serve simply as generalized terms for northern barbarians, and Tournon reads them as representing the scholas tic tradition insofar as it is associated with the ‘dead letter’ of ossified knowledge, xcii they are also participants in the Book of Revelation.xciii In Revelation, Gog and Magog precisely engage in battle. In addition, it is perhaps significant that the episode of the frozen words takes place at the ‘confin de la mer glaciale’,xciv since Gog and Magog were usually expected to come from the north,xcv and were often thought to be trapped until the end times beyond some sort of barrier or limit.xcvi In short, the words goth and magoth would surely evoke for Rabelais’s readers the Book of Revelation. This is significant, I would argue, because they thus evoke the question of revelation, already raised by Pantagruel’s reflections earlier in the episode. Furthermore, by contrast with the Manor of Truth, the final biblical book points to revelation not as words descending from the heavens but rather as enigmatic visions of violence which, as we saw in the discussion of the Pantagruel prologue, indicate the necessity of both letter and spirit. Gog and Magog call to mind not a revelation which would be beyond the letter and beyond violence but rather one which operates through it. The allusion to Revelation contained in the words ‘goth’ and ‘magoth’ is far from the only suggestion in the episode that, in the here and now of history, truth-seeking cannot lie beyond the letter, beyond the material or the physical. Even in the first half of the episode, when Pantagruel wonders if the voices might have some clear oracular or prophetic value, he nonetheless imagines them in evidently embodied form, literalising what might otherwise be metaphor or comparison so that the voices seem to have a real physical existence. The freezing of words which was an analogy for Plato’s teaching becomes literal. The ‘winged’ nature of Homeric words is understood in a literal rather than a figurative sense, so that the words are literally ‘in the air’, described in a way which not only implies inspiration but also makes them material (‘voltigeantes, volantes, moventes, et par consequent animees’; ‘fluttering, flying, moving things and consequently animate’).xcvii Even the words descending from the Manor of Truth fall ‘like catarrh’.xcviii Furthermore, some of Pantagruel’s reflections bring to mind modes of prophetic discourse which, like the Book of Revelation, are dependent not merely on the embodied but even on violence. Homeric epic may be prophetic but it constitutes for the most part bloody words of battle. And Pantagruel imagines an Orphic verse whose possible continued existence depends on the violent severing of Orpheus’s head. In other words, from the outset, Pantagruel imagines a revelation which is not beyond language, the letter, and violence, but rather which operates through them; he brings into dialogue with ideas of revelation or truth-seeking an emphasis on physicality, bodies, the letter, and violence. This foreshadows the aforementioned play or ‘passetemps’ with the words in the second half of the episode. If Pantagruel moves from the figurative to the literal in imagining Homeric words in the air, he will move from literal to figurative in interpreting 12 Panurge’s requests for words. Since this play with the figurative and the literal crosses both halves of the episode, it supports Tournon’s intuition that the second half also has a truth-seeking dimension. Moreover it suggests that creative movement between letter and spirit might be central to that pursuit of truth. The episode also offers insight into the Rabelaisian body. ‘Revelation’, such as it exists in the here and now of history, appears to be dependent on the body, not only in the sense that bodily and truth- seeking activities co-exist, as at the Platonic banquet, but also in that revelation might be embodied.xcix Bodily materiality is fascinating not only because it engenders a carnivalesque reversal of usual hierarchies but also insofar as it is intertwined with truth-seeking.c Finally, the episode may also suggest that this activity of playful truth-seeking is suited to the threatened violence and the potential yet uncertain prophecy of the final stage of history. Like the close of Gargantua, the recent battle with its sounds of ‘goth’ and ‘magoth’ reminds us of a latent threat of conflict potentially connected to the end- times; Gog and Magog are expected to do battle under Satan after his unbinding following the thousand years of peace. The episode perhaps also poses the question of whether this is already a time in which end-time prophetic voices might be heard, since it asks not only whether prophecy or oracular truth is still possible, but also whether it is possible yet, namely by wondering both whether Orpheus’s severed head could still produce prophetic verse, and also whether the Manor of Truth could already (before the end of the world) reveal Ideas. So, arguably the interpretative play of the Rabelaisian friends offers an example of how to live in the final stages of history, uncertain days of possible but opaque prophecy and of threatened violence: if the play with words is a means of ‘passing the time’, this responds to the pre-modern Christian dilemma of what to do with the time between Christ’s first and second coming, a time which was often seen, as Marjorie Reeves puts it, as ‘simply a space for waiting’. ci Indeed the fraught question of how to use the time before the Second Coming emerges in passing at several junctures in Rabelais’s fiction. In the 1542 edition of Pantagruel, the eponymous giant indicates that the correct preparation for the Last Judgment is to strive for salvation (in his case, by refusing an appointment as maistre des requestes and president en la court); otherwise there will not be enough people saved, with the result that ‘Nicholas of Cusa will be disappointed in his conjectures and […] we shall not reach the Last Judgment for another thirty-seven Jubilees’.cii In the Third Book, Frère Jean makes the rather different suggestion that, faced with the approaching end of the world and with reports that the Antichrist has already been born, Panurge should marry, so that the Last Judgment does not find him with his ‘balls full’ciii (perhaps in part a comic echo of the commonplace idea which begins the famous letter from Gargantua, namely that, until the Last Judgment, when generation and corruption shall cease, human beings pass on their ‘seed’ through reproduction)civ. Another solution to this question of how to live in the final stages of history may be offered by the response of Pantagruel and his friends to echoes of ‘goth’ and ‘magoth’, namely playful interpretation. 13 IV. Conclusion Rabelais’s fictions offer an insight into how sixteenth-century literature might explore apocalypse (especially as revelation), as well as how apocalypse might inflect the conceptualisation of poetic prophecy. One resulting direction for future research might be to ask whether apocalypse can be said to contribute to a conception of poetic prophecy which foreshadows modern notions of literature in its emphasis on semantic multiplicity and the correspondingly creative role for the reader. At the same time, apocalypse and prophecy also cast light on hermeneutics and epistemology in Rabelais, especially the nature of the relationships between letter and spirit, and between body and revelation. Rabelais points to the need for both writer and reader of fiction – both of whom may aspire to inspiration – to move creatively between letter and spirit. And Rabelais’s fictions – as much as reversing body-spirit hierarchies in a carnivalesque manner – point to the intertwining of the body with truth-seeking, not only insofar as they co-exist at the banquet but also insofar as ‘revelation’, such as it exists in the here and now of history, appears to be embodied.  I am very grateful to Rowan Toml i ns on and Andrew Has s for i ns i ghtful comments made i n res pons e to a draft of thi s es s ay. I woul d al s o l i ke to thank contri butors to the s peci al i s sue for hel pful res pons es offered at our works hop, as wel l as parti ci pants at the ‘Li terary and Cogni ti ve Ends ’ works hop of the Bal zan Proj ect on ‘Li terature as an Obj ect of Knowl edge’, where an earl i er vers i on of s ome of thi s work was pres ented.  School of Modern Languages , Durham Uni vers i ty, El vet Ri vers i de New El vet Durham DH1 3JT, UK. Emai l : kathryn.banks 2@durham.ac.uk i J. Leavi tt, ed., Poetry and Prophecy: The Anthropology of Inspiration (Ann Arbor: The Uni vers i ty of Mi chi gan Pres s , 1997). J. L. Kugel , ed., Poetry and Prophecy: The Beginnings of a Literary Tradition (Ithaca and London: Cornel l Uni vers i ty Pres s , 1990). J. Woj ci k and Raymond-Jean Frontai n, eds , Poetic Prophecy in Western Literature (London/Rutherford: Fai rl ei gh Di cki ns on Uni vers i ty Pres s / As s oci ated Uni vers i ty Pres s es , 1984). Kathryn Banks , Prophecy and Li terature. Insights 4 (2011), j ournal of Durham Ins ti tute of Advanced Study, http://www.dur.ac.uk/i as /i ns i ghts /vol ume4/. ii Can Novel i s ts Predi ct the Future? Insights 4 (2011), j ournal of Durham Ins ti tute of Advanced Study, http://www.dur.ac.uk/i as /i ns i ghts /vol ume4/. iii For exampl e, ‘I have been as tounded at the number of apocal ypti c movi es that have come out recentl y or are s chedul ed to come out (2012). The worl d i s defi ni tel y bei ng prepared for s omethi ng to happen’ (http://wi s domoftheworl d.wordpres s .com/2009/03/23/the-knowi ng-a-chri s ti an-fi l m-anal ys i s -and-the- al i en-gos pel /). See al s o, for exampl e, http://bi bchr.bl ogs pot.co.uk/2009/03/knowi ng-movi e-revi ew.html ; http://ans wers .yahoo.com/ques ti on/i ndex?qi d=20090417222104AARAcYC ; http://wi ki .ans wers .com/Q/What_i s _the_s ymbol i s m_i n_the_movi e_Knowi ng. iv For the French context, s ee Deni s Crouzet, Les Guerriers de Dieu: la violence au temps des troubles de religion (vers 1525-vers 1610) (Champ Val l on: Seys s el , 1990). For a hel pful overvi ew of the s tate of s chol ars hi p more general l y, s ee Robi n Bruce Barnes , Vari eti es of Apocal ypti c Experi ence i n Reformati on Europe. The Journal of Interdisciplinary History 33 (2002) 261-74. v Irena Dorota Backus , Reformation Readings of the Apocalyse: Geneva, Zurich, and Wittenberg (New York; Oxford: Oxford Uni vers i ty Pres s , 2000). vi Marj ori e Reeves , The Influence of Prophecy in the Later Middle Ages: A Study in Joachimism (Oxford: Cl arendon Pres s , 1969); Marj ori e Reeves , Joachim of Fiore and the Prophetic Future (London: S.P.C.K, 1976). vii Robi n Bruce Barnes , Prophecy and Gnosis: Apocalypticism in the Wake of the Lutheran Reformation (Stanford, Cal .: Stanford Uni v. P., 1988), pp. 100-40. Anthony Grafton, Joseph Scaliger: A Study in the History of Classical Scholarship (Oxford: Cl arendon P., 1983), two vol s , vol . 2, pp. 346-56. http://www.dur.ac.uk/ias/insights/volume4/ http://www.dur.ac.uk/ias/insights/volume4/ http://wisdomoftheworld.wordpress.com/2009/03/23/the-knowing-a-christian-film-analysis-and-the-alien-gospel/ http://wisdomoftheworld.wordpress.com/2009/03/23/the-knowing-a-christian-film-analysis-and-the-alien-gospel/ http://bibchr.blogspot.co.uk/2009/03/knowing-movie-review.html http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20090417222104AARAcYC http://wiki.answers.com/Q/What_is_the_symbolism_in_the_movie_Knowing 14 viii For exampl e, Barnes , op. ci t.; Crouzet, op. ci t.; Howard Hots on, Paradise Postponed: Johann Heinrich and the Birth of Calvinist Millenarianism (Dordrecht ; London: Kl uwer Academi c, 2000); Ottavi a Ni ccol i , Prophecy and People in Renaissance Italy (Pri nceton, N.J.: Pri nceton Uni vers i ty Pres s , 1990). ix Teres a Chevrol et, L'Idée de fable: théories de la fiction poétique à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 2007), pp. 49-134 and pas s i m; Jean Lecoi nte, L'Idéal Et La Différence: la perception de la personnalité littéraire à la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 1993), pp. 217-374. x The Sense of an Ending: Studies in the Theory of Fiction with a new epilogue (Oxford: Oxford Uni vers i ty Pres s , 2000), fi rs t publ i s hed i n 1966. xi On the category of ‘l i terature’ and on the earl i er us e of ‘poetry’ to conceptual i ze texts whi ch we coul d cl as s as ‘l i terature’, s ee bel ow p. 000 and n. xxi v. xii Denni s Cos ta, Irenic Apocalypse: Some Uses of Apocalyptic in Dante, Petrarch and Rabelais (Anma Li bri , 1981), pp. 107-38. Davi d Qui nt, Origin and Originality in Renaissance Literature: Versions of the Source (New Haven; London: Yal e Uni vers i ty Pres s , 1983), pp. 167 -206. Thi erry Vi ctori a, Un Livre De Feu Dans Un Siècle De Fer: les lectures de l'Apocalypse dans la littérature française de la Renaissance (Leuven; Wal pol e, MA: Ui tgeveri j Peeters , 2009), pp. 240-45, 311-30. xiii Œuvres complètes, ed. Mi rei l l e Huchon (Pari s : Gal l imard, 1994), pp. 11 -14. Al l ci tati ons wi l l be from thi s edi ti on. ‘Anti doted Bubbl es ’, trans l . M. A. Screech, Rabelais: Gargantua and Pantagruel (London: Pengui n, 2006), p. 211. Al l trans l ati ons are from thi s edi ti on except where otherwi s e s tated. xiv André Tournon, << Ce Temps De Pas s e-Pas s e…>> (Le Mi l l eni um Sel on Rabel ai s ). In Formes Du Millenarisme En Europe a L'Aube des temps modernes, ed. by Jean-Raymond Fanl o and André Tournon (Pari s : Champi on, 2001), pp. 455 -68. xv A recent di s cus s i on i s that of Vi ctori a, op. ci t., pp. 325 -30. A detai l ed l i s t of pos s i bl e echoes of vari ous accounts of Jerus al em i s provi ded i n a 1998 Mas ter’s thes i s by Mi chel l e Mori n -As s el i n, ‘Thél ème, une nouvel l e Jérus al em?’, Mc Gi l l Uni vers i ty, Département de l angue et l i ttérature françai s es . xvi Ed. Huchon, pp. 150-53; Trans l . Screech, pp. 374-9. xvii Tournon, art. ci t., pp. 466-67. In addi ti on, as Qui nt obs erves (op. ci t., p. 176), al though the Quart Livre has much l es s of a ‘s ens e of an endi ng’ than even the ambi val ent one i n Gargantua, arguabl y i t s i mi l arl y coupl es an awarenes s of perni c i ous enemi es wi th a banquet whi ch perhaps fores hadows the mes s i ani c one des cri bed i n the Book of Revel ati on. On narrati ve ti me i n Rabel ai s , and on a paral l el between the endi ng of the Quart Livre and the ‘fanfrel uches ’ i n Gargantua, s ee Emmanuel l e Lacore-Marti n, Figures de l’Histoire et du temps dans l’œuvre de Rabelais (Geneva: Droz, 2011), pp. 19-83, 286-7. xviii Art. ci t. xix "En Sens Agile": Les Acrobaties de l'esprit selon Rabelais (Pari s : Champi on, 1995), pp. 16-21. xx Cos ta, op. ci t., p. 3. See al s o, for exampl e, Raymond La Chari té, The Frami ng of Rabel ai s ’s Gargantua. In François Rabelais: Critical Assessments, ed. by Jean-Cl aude Carron (Bal ti more and London: The Johns Hopki ns Uni vers i ty Pres s , 1995), 3 -18. xxi The Fifth Book (whi ch i s of uncertai n authors hi p) i s beyond the s cope of thi s es s ay but woul d be rel evant to a s tudy of poeti c prophecy. xxii Grahame Cas tor, Pléiade Poetics: A Study in Sixteenth Century Thought and Terminology (Cambri dge: Cambri dge Uni vers i ty Pres s , 1964), pp. 24-50; Lecoi nte, op. ci t., 1993, pp. 349-65; Ol i vi er Pot, Inspiration Et Mélancolie: L'Épistémologie poétique dans les "Amours" d e Ronsard (Geneva: Droz, 1990); Ol i vi er Pot, La Théori e du Furor Divinus dans Les Amours De 1552-1553. Cahiers textuel, 17 (1997) 25-53; Is i dore Si l ver, The Intellectual Evolution of Ronsard. Vol. 2, Ronsard's General Theory of Poetry (St. Loui s : Was hi ngton Uni vers i ty Pres s , 1973). xxiii On D’Aubi gné, s ee for exampl e Samuel Junod, Agrippa D'Aubigné, Ou, Les Misères du prophète (Geneva: Droz, 2008). On Rons ard, s ee Vi rgi ni a Cros by, Propheti c Di s cours e i n Rons ard and D'Aubi gn é. The French Review, 3 (1971) 91-100; Ol i vi er Pot, Prophéti e Et Mél ancol i e: La Querel l e entre Rons ard et l es Protes tants (1562-1565). In Prophètes Et Prophéties Au XVIe Siècle, ed. by Robert Aul otte (Pari s : Pres s es de l 'Écol e Normal e Supéri eure, 1998), pp. 198 -229 ; Qui nt, op. ci t., pp. 24-30. xxiv ‘Li terature’, wi th the s ens e of l i terary works and s peci fi cal l y ‘wri ti ng whi ch has cl ai m to cons i derati on on the ground of beauty of form or emoti onal effect’ i s , as the Oxford Engl i s h Di cti onary notes , of very 15 recent emergence i n both Engl i s h and French. ‘Li terature’ and ‘l i ttérature’ meant knowl edge of texts and authors , or the mas tery of readi ng and wri ti ng. The French expres s i on ‘bel l es l ettres ’ was defi ned pri mari l y by aes theti c qual i ti es , and i s undoubtedl y a forerunner of our category of ‘l i terature’, but even that was born onl y i n the fi rs t hal f of the s eventeenth century, and i mported i nto Engl i s h i n the ei ghteenth. Phi l i ppe Caron, Des 'Belles Lettres' À La 'Littérature': une archéologie des signes du savoir profane en langue française (1680-1760) (Louvai n and Pari s : Peeters , 1992), pp. 102-84. xxv Jean Lecoi nte, Nai s s ance D'une Pros e Ins pi rée. Néo-Pl atoni s me Et "Pros e Poéti que" À La Renai s s ance. Bibliothèque d’humanisme et renaissance 51 (1989) 13-57. xxvi C. A. Mayer and C. M. Dougl as , Rabel ai s Poète. Bibliothèque d'Humanisme et Renaissance 24 (1962) 42-46. Jean Pl attard, Rabel ai s Réputé Poète Par Quel ques Écri vai ns De Son Temps . Revue des études rabelaisiennes 10 (1912) 291-304. xxvii Jel l e Koopmans , Rabel ai s et l a tradi ti on des pronos ti cati ons . In Paul J. Smi th, ed. Éditer et traduire Rabelais à travers les âges (Ams terdam: Rodopi , 1997), pp. 35 -65. Hugh Roberts , Mocki ng the Future i n French Renai s s ance Mock-Prognos ti cati ons . In Andrea Brady and Emi l y Butterworth, eds , The Uses of the Future in Early Modern Europe (New York and London: Routl edge, 2010) pp. 198 -214. xxviii Ed. Huchon, pp. 415-24. Trans l . Screech, pp. 488-500. xxix The vexed ques ti on of the rel ati ons hi p between Rabel ai s and hi s narrator i s beyond the s cope of thi s es s ay. However, i n order to devel op further an anal ys is of poeti c prophecy i n Rabel ai s , i t wi l l be neces s ary to cons i der i t, i n order to as k who preci s el y i s i ns pi red. xxx Trans l . Screech, pp. 205-8 (208). Ed. Huchon, pp. 5-8 (7). Edwi n M. Duval , ‘Interpretati on and the 'doctri ne abs conce' of Rabel ai s 's prol ogue to Gargantua’, Etudes rabelaisiennes 18 (1985), pp. 1-17. xxxi James Hel ges on, <<Ce que j ’entends par ces s ymbol s pythagori cques >>: Rabel ai s on Meani ng and Intenti on. Etudes rabelaisiennes 42 (2003), 75-100. xxxii In the context of s i xteenth-century France, evangelical and evangelism are us ed, as Mi chael Screech put i t, ‘of pre-Tri denti ne >Cathol i c< Chri s ti ans who advocated or practi s ed a rel i gi on whi ch was gui ded by a di rect unders tandi ng of the Bi bl e and i ts Good News whi ch l ed them towards a theol ogy anchored i n the Gos pel s and the Paul i ne Epi s tl es .’ Thei r evangelism brought them cl os e to many of the Reformers . Rabel ai s , who was deepl y i nfl uenced by evangel i cal s pi ri tual i ty, had much i n common wi th Mel anchthon and Luther. Rabelais and the Challenge of the Gospel (Baden-Baden & Bouxwi l l er: Édi ti ons Val enti n Koerner, 1992), p. 7. xxxiii Cf Qui nt (op. ci t., pp. 167-206) and Tournon (art. ci t., pp. 467 -8). For Qui nt, al though i nterpretati on and i ns pi rati on by the Hol y Spi ri t are l i mi ted wi thi n the s pace of hi s tory, Rabel ai s i s confi dent of the i r forward progres s i on and of hi s i ns pi rati on. Tournon s omewhat el l i pti cal l y des cri bes Rabel ai s as a ‘prophète pour ri re’, a ‘prophet for l aughter’, whos e words are ‘al l the truer’ for the fai th wi th whi ch hi s humorous words are uttered: whi l e Rabel ai s ’s p rophecy i s i ntended to make us l augh, i t al s o i nvol ves truth. xxxiv L’Évangélisme fictionnel: Les ‘Livres’ rabelaisiens, le ‘Cymbalum Mundi’, ‘L’Heptaméron’ (1532 -1552) (Pari s : Édi ti ons Cl as s i ques Garni er, 2010). xxxv Rabelais Agonistes: Du Rieur Au Prophète. Etudes sur ‘Pantagruel’, ‘Gargantua’, ‘Le Quart Livre’ (Geneva: Droz, 1997). xxxvi Literature and Nation in the Sixteenth Century (Ithaca and London: Cornel l Uni vers i ty Pres s , 2001), pp. 63-64. Cf Defaux’s very di fferent i nterpretati on: Jews s peaki ng of the Law are l yi ng, as i s Rabel ai s , but hi s readers s houl d i gnore thi s unl es s they wi s h to knowi ngl y err (op. ci t., pp. 87-97); qui te apart from Rabel ai s ’s i nteres t i n the ques ti on of the l etter and the s pi ri t, the i mpl i c ati on that Jews wri ti ng about the Law are ‘l yi ng’ s eems to me unl i kel y. On the prol ogue’s compari s on wi th John, cf al s o Peter Gi l man and Abraham C. Kel l er, ‘The “Gros s es Mes l es ”’, Études rabelaisiennes 29 (1993), pp. 105-26. xxxvii On Rabel ai s ’s us es of Luci an, s ee Chri s ti ane Lauvergnat-Gagni ère, Lucien de Samosate et le lucianisme en France au XVIe siècle: atheism et polémique (Geneva: Droz, 1988), pp. 235-61, and Huchon i n her edi ti on of Rabel ai s , pp. 1214-7. xxxviii See for exampl e Mark El l i ngs en, The Richness of Augustine: His Contextual and Pastoral Theology (Kentucky: Wes tmi ns ter John Knox Pres s , 2005), pp. 15 -38. 16 xxxix Mark El l i ngs en, Luther as Narrati ve Exegete. The Journal of Religion 63 (1983), 394-413 (p. 398). xl Shi mon Marki s h, Erasmus and the Jews (Chi cago: Chi cago Uni vers i ty Pres s , 1986), pp. 7 -26. xli pp. 215, 1238. ‘For, unl es s you del i beratel y i ntend to go as tray, don’t thi nk that I’m tal ki ng as Jews do about the Law: I was not born under s uch a pl anet as ever to l i e or to as s ert anythi ng whi ch was not true: agentes et consentientes [‘Doers and Abettors (are puni s hed wi th the s ame puni s hment)’, a l egal maxi m], meani ng ‘gents wi th nothi ng on our cons ci ence’. I am s peaki ng l i ke Sai nt John of the Apocal yps e: quod vidimus testamur [we bear witness to what we have seen]: that i s , the horri fyi ng deeds and expl oi ts of Pantagruel , whos e retai ner I have been’ (p. 13). Rabel ai s ’s readi ng of the l egal maxi m agentes et consencientes (whi ch i s the s tandard one, accordi ng to Defaux, op. ci t., pp. 87 -97) to mean that l ack of knowl edge entai l s l ack of res pons i bi l i ty, when taken together wi th the compari s on to John, may i mpl y that Al cofri bas i s i nnocent of the meani ngs hi s text produces becaus e, l i ke John, he i s i ns pi red. xlii ‘Quod vi di mus tes tamur: Tes ti mony, Narr ati ve Agency and the Worl d i n Pantagruel 's Mouth’, French Forum 24 (1999), pp. 261-283 (274). xliii The 1542 text i s ‘I am s peaki ng l i ke a Pel i can l awyer – I mean a Vati can l awyer – tal ki ng of martyred l overs : I mean, l i ke a protonotary tal ki ng of l ove-affai rs ’ (p. 13, n. 3). Ed. Huchon, p. 215. xliv Rabelais Agonistes, p. 96. xlv The 1532 prol ogue opens wi th an evocati on of the Grandes et inestimable Chronique de l’enorme geant Gargantua, a work to whi ch Rabel ai s compares hi s own, and whi ch he s ays readers bel i eved ‘l i ke the text of the Bi bl e or the Hol y Gos pel ’ (trans l . Screech, p. 11; ed. Huchon p. 1234 vari ant a); from 1542 readers are i ns tead s ai d to have bel i eved i t ‘gal l antl y’ (ed. Huchon, p. 213). xlvi ‘non eni m omne quod fi ngi mus mendaci um es t; s ed quando i d fi ngi mus quod ni hi l s i gni fi cant, tunc es t mendaci um. Cum autem fi cti o nos tra refertur ad al i quam s i gni fi cati onem, non es t mendaci um s ed al i qua fi gura veri tati s . Al i oqui n omni a quae a s api enti bus et s ancti s vi ris , vel eti am ab i ps o domi no fi gurate di cta s unt mendaci a deputabuntur, qui s ecundum us i tatum i ntel l ectum non s ubs i s ti t veri tas tal i bus di cti s . […] Fi cti o i gi tur quae ad al i quam veri tatem refertur fi gura es t, quae non refertu r mendaci um es t.’ ‘Not everythi ng we make up i s a l i e ; but when we make up s omethi ng whi ch does not s i gni fy anythi ng i t i s a l i e. But when our fi cti on refers to s ome meani ng i t i s not a l i e but a fi gure of truth. Otherwi s e everythi ng that has been s ai d i n fi gurati ve form by wi s e men and s ai nts and even by our Lord Hi ms el f woul d be regarded as a l i e, j us t becaus e, accordi ng to the us ual unders tandi ng, thes e expres s i ons are i ncompati bl e wi th the truth’. Book 2, chapter 51 (Patrologia latina, 35: 1362). The pas s age i s ci ted by Aqui nas i n the Summa Theologiae, 3, q.55, a.4. See al s o Augus ti ne’s Contra Mendacium (Against Lying), chapter 10, paragraph 24, and chapter 13, paragraph 27 (i n Saint Augustine, vol . 14: Treatises on Various Subjects, Was hi ngton, D.C., The Cathol i c Uni vers i ty of Ameri ca Pres s , 1952, pp. 152 -3, 160-2). xlvii Scotus Eri ugena and Boccacci o ci ted i n Carl o Gi nzburg, Wooden Eyes: Nine Reflections on Distance (Vers o, 2002), pp. 36-37. xlviii Trans l ., Screech, pp. 13-14. Ed. Huchon, p. 215. xlix Cotgrave trans l ates pardon as ‘pardon, forgi venes s ; remi s s i on’. Pardons i n the pl ural referred to i ndul gences , as Cotgrave al s o notes (‘The Popes Pardons ’). Screech trans l ates ‘di gnes de pardon’ as ‘more forgi veabl e’ (p. 163). l Ed. Huchon, pp. 141-2, 336-7; Trans l . Screech, pp. 163, 364-6. li Jan Mi ernows ki , Signes Dissimilaires: La Quête des noms divins dans la poésie française de la Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 1997). Id., Le Dieu Néant: théologies négatives à l’aube des temps mod ernes (Lei den and New York: Bri l l , 1998). Le Cadet, op. ci t. Chevrol et, op. ci t., pp. 115 -34. lii For exampl e, Exposition sur l’Apocalypse de Sainct Jean, extraicte de plusieurs Docteurs tant anciens que modernes, avec preface de Theodore de Beze (Jean Gerard, 1557), pp. 3-8. liii For exampl e, as Al es s andro Scafi poi nts out i n hi s es s ay i n thi s vol ume ( p. 000), St Jerome obs erved that i n the Book of Revel ati on there are as many mys teri es as words . liv Thi s readi ng was propos ed by Edwi n M. Duval i n The Design of Rabelais’s ‘Pantagruel’ (New Haven & London: Yal e Uni vers i ty Pres s , 1991), pp. 6 -10. It i s ci ted i n the notes to Huchon’s Pléiade edi ti on (p. 1238, n. 6). 17 lv Chri s topher Rowl and, ‘Apocal yps e, Prophecy and the New Tes tament’. In Les ter L. Grabbe and Robert D. Haak, eds . Knowing the End From the Beginning: the Prophetic, the Apocalyptic and their Relationships (London, New York: Conti nuum, 2003), pp. 149 -66. lvi Rabel ai s ’s future patron, the s ei gneur de Langey, referred to the s ame ci tati on - quod vidimus testamur – to defend the i dea that the hi s tori an s houl d, as much as pos s i bl e, be the di rect wi tnes s of the events he recounts . Langey noted that ‘Sai nt Jean pour es tre creu, as s eure qu’i l parl e des chos es veuës ’ (ci ted i n Lacore-Marti n, op. ci t., pp. 128-9). The fact that the bi bl i cal pas sage l ent i ts el f to des cri bi ng the hi s tori an’s wi tnes s i ng perhaps cons ti tutes another i ndi cati on that, whi l e Al cofri bas poi nts beyond the l i teral , the l i teral content of ‘what [he has ] s een’ i s nonethel es s of central i mportance. lvii Duval , op. ci t., pp. 6-8. Fri s ch, art. ci t., p. 273. lviii ‘di co ti bi qui a quod s ci mus l oqui mur et quod vidimus testamur et tes ti moni um nos trum non acci piti s s i terrena di xi vobi s et non credi ti s quomodo s i di xero vobi s cael es ti a credeti s et nemo as cendi t i n cael um ni s i qui des cendi t de cael o Fi l i us homi ni s qui es t i n cael o’ (John 3.11 -13). ‘I s ay to thee that we s peak what we know and we tes ti fy what we have s een: and you recei ve not our tes ti mony. If I have s poken to you earthl y thi ngs , and you bel i eve not: how wi l l you bel i eve, i f I s hal l s peak to you heavenl y thi ngs ? And no man hath as cended i nto heaven, but he that des c ended from heaven, the Son of man who i s i n heaven.’ lix Rowl and, art. ci t., pp. 159-61. lx P. 336. My trans l ati ons . lxi Fl orence Wei nberg, The Wine and the Will (Detroi t: Wayne State Uni vers i ty Pres s , 1975). Françoi s Ri gol ot, <<Servi ce di vi n, s ervi ce du vi n>>: l ’Équi voque di onys i aque. In Rabelais-Dionysos: Vin, Carnaval, Ivresse (Montpel l i er: Édi ti ons Jeanne Laffi tte, 1997), pp. 15 -28. lxii Mi chel Jeanneret, Des Mets et Des Mots: banquets et propos de table à la Renaissance (Pari s : Li brairie Jos é Corti , 1987), trans l . by Jeremy Whi tel ey and Emma Hughes as A Feast of Words: Banquets and Table Talk in the Renaissance (Cambri dge: Pol i ty Pres s , 1991). Françoi s Ri gol ot, art. ci t., <<Servi ce di vi n>>. Id, From “Dri nk” to “Tri nch”: Rabel ai s ’s Li terary Convi vi ality. In The Western Pennsylvania Symposium on World Literatures: selected proceedings 1974 -1991: a retrospective, ed. Carl a E. Lucente (Greenberg, PA.: Eadmer Pres s , 1992). lxiii Screech trans l ati on, p. 408. Ed. Huchon, p. 349. lxiv For exampl e, the Bri doye epi s ode i n the Third Book (es p. pp. 486-7; trans l . Screech, pp. 578-80). At the end of the Fourth Book, Pantagruel deci des , apparentl y i ns pi red by hi s Socrati c ‘daemon’ (p. 866 ; ‘Dæmon de Socrates ’, p. 697), not to l and on the i s l and of Ganabi n; i n addi ti on, thi s i s l and contai ns the ‘Mount Anti parnas s us ’ (p. 867; ‘Mons Anti parnas s e’, p. 697) and thus appears to repres ent (among other thi ngs ) the anti thes i s of poeti c i ns pi rati on, s o Pantagruel i s i ns pi red not to l and on an i s l and whi ch oppos es i ns pi rati on. lxv ‘Hoc l oco Paul us propheti am vocat non prædi cti onem futurorum, s ed i nterpretati onem di vi næ s cri pturæ’. Erasmus’ Annotations on the New Testament: Acts – Romans – I and II Corinthians. Facsimile of the final Latin text with all earlier variants. Ed. by Anne Reeve and M. A. Screech (Lei den, New York: E.J. Bri l l , 1990) p. 504. lxvi On the i mportance of Joachi m i n the s i xteenth century, s ee Reeves , Joachim, pp. 83-165. lxvii p. 337. Screech trans l ates as ‘arti cul ati ng, ars e-ti cul ati ng, wry-ars e-ti cul ati ng, bol l ockul ati ng, di abol i cul ati ng, that i s , cal umni ati ng’ (pp. 163 -4). lxviii Cotgrave, 1611 French-Engl i s h di cti onary. Cf ed. Huchon p. 337; p. 1340, n. 9. lxix However, Screech trans l ates monorticulant as mumbling (p. 164, n. 121). lxx Trans l . Screech, p. 826. Ed. Huchon, p. 667. lxxi Ed. Huchon, pp. 668-9. Trans l . Screech, pp. 827-8. lxxii Ed. Huchon, pp. 669-71. Trans l . Screech, pp. 828-30. lxxiii En Sens agile, pp. 16-21. lxxiv De l ’Interprétati on des «mots de gueul e»: note s ur l es chapi tres LV-LVI du Quart Li vre du Pantagruel . In Hommage à François Meyer (Broché, 1983), pp. 145-53; En Sens agile, pp. 9-13. lxxv Note s ur deux cha pi tres du «Quart Li vre» LV-LVI. Littérature 5 (1972) 88-94. 18 lxxvi Li terature and Metaphys i cs : Rabel ai s and the Poeti cs of Mi s unders tandi ng. Études rabelaisiennes 35 (1998) 131-51. lxxvii On other us es of 1 Cor 12-15, s ee Qui nt, op. ci t., pp. 180-6, and p. 250-1, n. 28. lxxviii Mi ernows ki , Li terature and Metaphys i cs . James Hel ges on, ‘Words i n the Ai r’: Thaumas te, Nazdecabre, and the Ques ti on of Pers pi cuous Si gns . In Esprit Généreux, Esprit Pantagruelicque: Essays by His Students in Honor of François Rigolot, ed. by R. Leus hui s and Z. Zal l oua (Geneva: Droz, 2008), pp. 177 -96. lxxix Hel ges on, ‘Words i n the Ai r’, p. 189. lxxx 1 Cor 14:5, 10-13. lxxxi P. 670. ‘Some barbarous tongue’, ‘barbarous words ’ (pp. 829 -30). lxxxii ‘s i ergo nes ci ero vi rtutem voci s ero ei cui l oquor barbarus et qui l oqui tur mi hi barbarus ’ (1 Cor 14: 11). Cf Mari e-Luce Demonet bri ngs Rabel ai s’s pres entati on of ‘l anguai ge Barbare’ i n the frozen words epi s ode i nto di al ogue wi th s i xteenth-century accounts of vernacul ar l anguages , and s ugges ts that i t parti ci pates i n a reval ori s ation of vernacul ar (or ‘barbarous’) l anguages . Les voix du signe: nature et origine du langage à la Renaissance (1480-1580) (Pari s : H. Champi on, 1992), pp. 376 -84. lxxxiii Duval , art. ci t., pp. 14-17. lxxxiv Op. ci t., pp. 178-89. lxxxv De l ’i nterprétati on; En sens agile, pp. 9-13. lxxxvi Op. ci t., pp. 186-8. lxxxvii Les Parol es Dégel ées (Rabel ai s , « Quart Li vre », 48-65). In Le Défi des signes: Rabelais et la crise de l’interprétation à la Renaissance (Orl eans : Paradi gme, 1994), pp. 113 -129, fi rs t publ i s hed i n Littérature 17 (1975) 14-30. lxxxviii Op. ci t., p. 535. Cf Jeanneret (Les Parol es Dégel ées ) al s o al i gns Pantagruel wi th one hal f of the oppos i ti on between l etter and s pi ri t, but i n a contras ti ng way. lxxxix ‘Pantagruel […] évoque Orphée, Homère et Pl aton […] quand i l s ’agi t de guerre, de batai l l e et de mas s acre. Il pens e Ins pi rati on et Révél ati on, et i l n’es t ques ti on que de vi ol ence, de s ouffrance et de brui t. Il di t l ’émouvante l égèreté des parol es d’Homère, pour s e trouver aus s i tôt après confronté à des parol es l amentabl ement matéri al i s ées et déchues ’ (op. ci t., p. 529). xc Hel ges on, Words i n the Ai r, p. 193. For exampl e, Edwi n M. Duval , The Design of Rabelais's Quart Livre De Pantagruel (Geneva: Droz, 1998), pp. 37-39. xci Defaux, op. ci t., pp. 526-7. xcii De l ’Interprétati on, p. 146. xciii As obs erved by Wei nberg (op. ci t., pp. 41 -2). xciv p. 669; ‘at the approaches of the frozen s ea’ (p. 829). xcv Revel ati on 20:7. Ezeki el 38:14-16. xcvi See Al es s andro Scafi ’s es s ay i n thi s i ssue of Literature and Theology, p. 000. xcvii Ed. Huchon, p. 668; Trans l . Screech, p. 827. xcviii Ibi d. xcix Cf Jeanneret, Des Mets et des mots, es peci al l y on metaphors of readi ng as eati ng. c Cf Mi khai l Bakhti n, Rabelais and His World, trans l . by Hel ene Is wol s ky (Cambri dge, Mas s .: M.I.T. Pres s , 1968). ci Reeves , Joachim of Fiore, op. ci t., p. 1. cii Trans l . Screech, p. 75. Ed. Huchon, p. 263. ciii Trans l . Screech, pp. 511-12. Ed. Huchon, pp. 434-5. civ Trans l . Screech, p. 45. Ed. Huchon, pp. 241 -2. 
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DThis text is intended for those teachers who face the challenge of teaching remedial-level writing to college age students. “ERRORS AND EXPECTATIONS deserves to be pondered and savored by anyone who cares about language.... It may seem odd to call a book about grammar and methodology “moving,” but this one is....”— Adrienne Rich “This will be a basic book on basic writing for many years to cornel’—Edward P. J.Corbett, Ohio State University “A splendid and admirable book... The best approach and the best guide yet for helping the educationally deprived.”—Sheridan Baker, University of Michigan 1977 320 pp. $8.00 POPULAR WRITING IN AMERICA The Interaction of Style and Audience A Shorter, Alternate Edition Edited by Donald McQuade, Queens College, City University of New York; and Robert Atwan. DThe abbreviated format of this highly successful text has a more contemporary flavor with the inclusion of new selections such as excerpts from All the President's Men, Jaws and The Exorcist. The collected material teaches students to take a critical look at what they read so they can apply the strategies and techniques of effective prose to their own writing. The ads, newspaper and magazine articles, best seller excerpts, and literary classics serve as excellent models for studying the variety of approaches used in successful prose and the effects that a writer’s audience has on his style. A complimentary Teacher’s Manual is available. 1977 416 pp.; 47 full-page ads paper $5.00 AUTOBIOGRAPHY A Reader for Writers Edited by Robert Lyons, Queens College, City University of New York. DThe aim of this anthology is to help students gain confidence and control as writers by using their own experiences as a starting point for their writing. Most of the selections are by contemporary authors; several have common subject matter that can be adapted by students in their own writing. Introductions to each chapter define important rhetorical issues. Each selection is followed by Questions for Discussion and each chapter by Suggestions for Writing. A complimentary Teacher’s Manual is available. 1977 432 pp. paper $5.00 Prices are subject to change. OXFORD UNIVERSITY S3 PRESS 200 Madison Ave., New York, N.Y. 10016 Recent books from The Scolar Press Henry James The American; revision of 1907 More than thirty years after its first publication, Henry James came to prepare the text of The American for the New York edition of 1907. Working in the margins of a copy of the first edition he virtually rewrote the novel. This manuscript, preserved in the Houghton Library at Harvard, is thus a unique demonstration of the late James confronting his earlier work, an object of incomparable critical value to Jamesian studies. It is now reproduced in exacting, two-colour facsimile. $47.00 (including postage and packing) Thomas Gray An Elegy Wrote in a Country Church Yard Introduction by Alastair Macdonald With its alternative phrasings, deletions and changes of mind, the Eton Manuscript vividly demonstrates the creative process which produced Gray's best known poem. This handsome edition reproduces the manuscript, together with a facsimile of the hurriedly-printed first edition; and the introduction should form the definitive study of Gray's sources and techniques. $13.00 (including postage and packing) Ben Jonson The Workes 1616 Introduction by D. Heyward Brock A source of controversy from the time of its first publication, Jonson's Workes is second only to the First Folio Shakespeare as a monument of the great age of English drama. The Scolar facsimile, a massive folio of over one thousand pages, faithfully reproduces William Stansby's masterpiece of printing. $83.00 (including postage and packing) Edmund Spenser The Faerie Queene 1596 Introduction by Graham Hough The 1596 edition was the second to appear in Spenser's lifetime and contains many alterations which are palpably the author's own. With Mutability Cantos from the 1609 edition, this fine two-volume facsimile will help resolve many of the textual problems connected with his magnum opus. $74.00 (including postage and packing) Send your order to: THE SCOLAR PRESS, 39 Great Russell Street, London WClB 3PH, England 334 The Gorgon’s Head A Study in Tragedy and Despair william r . brashear Drawing heavily on the works of Schopenhauer, Nietzsche, and Spengler, Brashear perceives tragedy as a basic way of experiencing the universe and reacting to it. In careful studies of such writers as Tennyson, Conrad, Housman, Shaw, O’Neill, and Arthur Miller, he demonstrates that the writer of tragedy forces his reader not simply to confront a tragic flaw in a single character but rather to confront the gorgon’s head itself, the ultimate chaos of the universe. 192 pages / $8.00 The Golden Horns Mythic Imagination and the Nordic Past john l . greenway Only in the various forms of myths can man find identity, the author argues, and he discusses the varying images of the Viking past as unconscious at- tempts by northern nations to legitimize their own values. Greenway finds in the modern mind a singular tension between mythic imperatives and the impulse to demythologize. 284 pages / $11.00 The View from Language Selected Essays, 1948-1914 c. f . hockett An eminent American anthropological linguist ranges in these essays over a wide variety of topics, from the structure of jokes to the unity of science, from information theory to the nature of human creativity, from animal communication to ethnographic theory. 360 pages / $15.00 The University of Georgia Press Athens 30602 The YORK PRESS is pleased to announce the publication of THE YORK DICTIONARY OF ENGLISH-FRENCH-GERMAN-SPANISH LITERARY TERMS AND THEIR ORIGIN By Saad Elkhadem. A concise dictionary that gives the meaning, explains the Origin, and lists the French, German, and Spanish equivalents of important literary terms. Beside defining literary movements and literary genres, it elucidates the terminology of versification, stylistics, rhetoric and literary criticism. THE YORK DICTIONARY OF LITERARY TERMS is indispensable to literary historians, critics, creative writers, and students of general and comparative literature. ISBN 0-919966-01-2 Pp. 154; $6.95 JUST OFF PRESS TOWARDS A CHRONOLOGY OF QUEVEDO’S POETRY, by Roger Moore (ISBN 0-919966-02-0). In this study Dr. Moore analyses and establishes the five main chronological periods into which Quevedo’s poetry may be divided. An essential publication for all who appreciate Golden Age Spanish poetry. YORK PRESS, P.O. Box 1172, Fredericton, N.B. E3B 5C8, Canada. LOGOS BOOKSHOP 25 North Pleasant Street Amherst MA 01002 Specializing in scholarly books in the humanities We publish catalogues in Medieval and Renaissance studies, and also solicit mail orders for books in the modern languages and literatures. Librarians are encouraged to request information about library orders. We offer library discounts and efficient service. Some of rhe colleges rhot hove already adopted rhe new Baker: Norrh Seattle C.C. Glendale C.C. Mesa Community College American River College De Anza College Fresno City College Golden West College Son Diego Store U. Son Jose Store U. U. of Californio — Son Diego U. of rhe Pacific Colorado Store U. Colorado Women's Coll. Georgia Store U. Block Hawk Coll. U. of Notre Dome Drake University U. of North Iowa Emporio Store College Washburn University Tulone U. of LA. Bowie Store College Coppin Store College Boston College Lowell University Mr Holyoke U. of Massachusetts Westfield Store Coll. Worcester Store Coll. Henry Ford C.C. Sr. CloirC.C. Norrh Hennepin C.C. U. of Minnesota Jacksonville U. Mississippi Jr. Coll. Joplin Store College Southwest Missouri Sr. Coll. University of Missouri Washington U. — Sr Louis William Woods College Princeton University Iona College Monroe Community Coll. New York University SUNY — Oswego University of Rochester Peace College Minor Store College Antioch College Kent Store University University of Toledo Mount Angel Seminary University of Oregon Allegheny College Cedar Crest College Chatham College Gettysburg College Rhode Island College Converse College U. of South Corolino Mr. Marry College Steed College Alvin C.C. — Texas U. of Texas or Arlington U. of Texas or El Paso University of Utah Longwood College Mary Washington Coll. Northern Virginia C.C. Randolph-Macon College Virginia Commonwealth U. Why has THE COMPLETE STYLIST AND HANDBOOK found its room at the top? Letters and cords from hundreds of teachers tell us you like rhe useful rhetoric and handbook organization... rhe wonderfully practical exercises within each instructional unit... those two splendid chapters, "Writing About Literature" and "The English Language"... rhe open, inviting, and readable typeface and design... the teaching suggestions and strategies in rhe Instructor’s Manual. Published in 1976, THE COMPLETE STYLIST AND HANDBOOK has already assumed a leading place in Freshman English. An examination will show you why. If you reach Freshman English and have not yet had a chance ro review THE COMPLETE STYLIST AND HANDBOOK, you are in for a pleasant surprise. Inductive methods that work... Higqins talks directly ro rhe student. Comp/Mods really provides one-on-one instruction. Students are able to work through their particular writing difficulties. And the text gives them supportive feedback, every step of the way. —Please address requests to Cathy Petree, Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10019 r 7 /or advanced courses ... SYNTAX BY PETER W. This book serves as an introductory text to syn- tactic analysis and theory. It treats a number of the “core" phenomena of English syntax and uses them to illustrate the relationship between description and theory. Topics covered include: the notational system and the implicit claims which it makes about what is possible in natural language; the in- adequacy of phrase structure grammars for the description of natural language; selected fun- damental aspects of English syntax such as CULICOVER Affix Hopping, the passive construction, ques- tions, and sentential complements; rule order- ing; constraints on transformations; formal language learnability. Appended to each chap- ter are a number of exercises and problems to familiarize the student with the notation and terminology of the text and to direct the stu- dent to issues which go beyond the material presented in the text. 1976, 336 pp., $12.50/£8.90 THE ORGANIZATION OF PHONOLOGY BY STEPHEN R. Ideal as a text for advanced students in the field, this book is a major restatement and comprehensive overview of phonological theory. The book consists of four parts: Part one deals with the nature of phonological and phonetic representations; Part two investigates the in- ternal structure of linguistic rules through the problem of notational conventions and the in- ANDERSON ternal ordering of subparts of a rule schema; Part three concerns the interaction of rules as formalized by ordering relationships and ex- amines general principles for predicting these orderings; Part four discusses several specula- tive issues of particular current interest. 1974, 334 pp., $18.75/£13.35 Cor complimentary copies, write Sales Department. Please indicate course, enrollment, and present textbook. ACADEMIC PRESS A Subsidiary of Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Publishers Ill FIFTH AVE., NEW YORK, N.Y. 10003 / 24-28 OVAL RD., LONDON NWl 7DX STANFORD FRENCH REVIEW Editor-iu-Cliief: Marc Bertrand - Stanford University Vol. I, 1977: fasc. 1 - March; fasc. 2 - October SFR publishes essays dealing with literature and the other arts; literature and thought, history, philology; contacts and relationships between learned and popular cultures as well as relation- ships between French and other cultural traditions. To appear in SFR: M. Dufrenne: La 'lecture' selon Bachelard et Barthes; A. Cohen: The role of music in the Academie Royale des Sciences; R. Kempf: Sur le Dandysme; G. Bree: Contemporary trends in criticism; E. Morot-Sir: Langages philosophique et lit- teraire; M. Soriano: Les histoires de fous chez La Fontaine; G. Wright: Crime and punishment in France; H. Weber: Analogie et image dans la pensee politique de Jean Bodin; P. Fresnault: Le langage de la publicite; P. Newman-Gordon: L'image du jardin chez Proust; M. Decaudin: Butor lecteur d'Apollinaire; R. La Charite: The fictional world of the Pantagruel; W. Calin: Defense and illustration of Fin'amor; A. Bourdin: Quartier ancien et ville moderne; J.-P. Aron: Propositions pour une genealogie de la morale bourgeoise. Subscriptions: Individual $12.50, Institutions $25.00 per year. STANFORD FRENCH AND ITALIAN STUDIES MONOGRAPH SERIES Editor: Alphonse Juilland - Stanford University 1. Robert Greer Cohn. 7 Modes of Art. 2. Michele Leone. L'indus- tria nella letteratura italiana contemporanea. 3. Edd. J. Beauroy, M. Ber- trand, J. Gargan. Popular Culture in France. 4. Jacques Beauroy. Vin et societe d Bergerac du moyen age aux temps modemes. 6. William Calin. Crown, Cross, and 'Fleur-de-lis'. Available September 1977: 5. Alphonse Juilland. Structuralist and Trans- formationalist Morphology. John C. Lapp. The Brazen Tower: Essays on Mythological Imagery in the French Renaissance and Baroque, 1550-1670. 8. Helene Fredrickson. Baudelaire: Heros et Fils. Dualite et Problemes du Travail dans les Lettres a sa Mere. 9. Charles A. Porter. Chateaubriand: Composi- tion, Imagination, and Poetry. 7 Orders and subscriptions to: Anma Libri, P.O. Box876, Saratoga, Calif. 95070, USA. We know why you're loyal SHOWN BAKffi Year after year thousands assign THE PRACTICAL STYLIST, and many of you have critiqued it for us. Baker has listened to your suggestions, added his matchless expository skill and flair, to make the fourth edition the most useful ever. There is a new chapter, "Description, Narration, and Process.” (Yes, even Process can take The Argumentative Edge!) A new research paper, "America's Classics: When 1850 was Now.” A brief but thorough Handbook. An Instructor's Manual. And hundreds of subtle refinements which show only in the teaching. The perfect companion to THE PRACTICAL STYLIST. Almost half of these essays are new. All are conveniently summarized in the Table of Contents. There is an expository probe and overview for each piece, and biographical/ critical headnotes on each essayist. The third edition still aims for one practical point: How to write an essay. THE ESSAYIST superbly reinforces the rhetorical concerns of THE PRACTICAL STYLIST os well os those of THE COMPLETE STYLIST AND HANDBOOK. Who doesn't need a workbook? The revised PROBLEMS IN EXPOSITION FOR THE PRACTICAL STYLIST covers everything—finding a thesis, outlining, punctuation and grammar, spelling and capitalization, footnoting and bibliography. Hundreds of exercises, all very good, and oil referenced by page to appropriate chapters in THE PRACTICAL STYLIST. Correction key available to adopters. If you wish to consider any of these for your course, please write on your '• letterhead to Cathleen E. Petree, Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10019 ORDER WITH THIS COUPON AND SAVE 10%! Freudianism A MARXIST CRITIQUE by V. N. VOLOSINOV translated by I. R. TITUNIK and edited in collaboration with NEAL H. BRUSS Since its publication in 1927, this long-un- obtainable book by a young and unorthodox Soviet Marxist, who presumably later disap- peared in the Stalinist purges, has become something of an underground classic. Its fun- damental analysis and critique of the entire Freudian doctrine, carried out from the stand- point of a Marxist “study of ideologies," anti- cipates many of the positions of modern Structuralism. Claiming that the Freudian un- conscious is only an aspect of conscious 1976, 166 pp.. S10.95; Discount Price. thought, the book views “inner" and “outer'' speech as different forms of the same phe- nomenon—language—whose nature is basic- ally social and historical. 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J L 4? 4? 4? 4* & Catalogue No. 77, consisting of 1400 scarce and out-of-print books for the scholar and collector in the field of French / Italian Latin / Portuguese Spanish / Dutch Foreign Literature in Translation, is now available upon request from The Chatham Bookseller. Other cata- logues available are No. 78 (Ameri- can and English Literature: Criticism and Literary Biography) and No. 79 (Black Literature). Write & & & The Chatham Bookseller Department PS 38 Maple Street • Chatham, NJ 07928 German / Yiddish Danish / Norwegian Swedish / Czech Polish / Russian Serbo-Croatian / Slovene Ukrainian / Classical Greek Modern Greek / Lithuanian Albanian / Armenian Sanskrit / Hebrew Hungarian / Finnish Chinese / Japanese Why interpret meaning in literature? That’s the first question answered by William C. Dowling in The Critic’s Hornbook: Reading for Interpretation. Before Dowling and his reader are through with one another, the latter, who began with little more than enthusiasm, will be able to read competently and then write coherently about any poem, play, or novel. What’s new and good about Dowling’s Hornbook is that it presents interpretive method in a simplified theoretical context, systematically working from fundamental principles of interpretation towards more general and sophisticated critical concepts. At the same time, Dowling is teaching a way of reading—a foundation upon which the student can operate confidently. The approach has been tested in freshman classes, originally at Harvard, and for a year at the University of New Mexico. The book is self contained, and full of examples. If you would like to consider The Critic’s Hornbook for adoption, please write on your letterhead to Cathleen E. Petree, Thomas Y. Crowell Company, 666 Fifth Avenue, New York, New York 10019 THE CRITIC’S HORNBOOK READING FOR INTERPRETATION William C. Dowling 144 pps February $4.95 SUMMER PROGRAMS IN FRANCE AIX-EN-PROVENCE, AVIGNON Institute for American Universities, Chartered by the Regents of the University of the State of New York under the auspices of the University of Aix Marseille, founded 1409 The Institute offers 4 outstanding programs in southern France from late June to mid August: FRENCH LANGUAGE AND LITERATURE (in French), in Avignon, specializing in French Grammar, Composition, Conversation and Phonetics. (6 credit hours.) Students participate in the Theater, Festivals in Avignon and Orange. 6 weeks. Tuition, $585. ART IN PROVENCE (a Fine Arts workshop in English), in Avignon, painting with European and American masters combining the best modern elements in European and American art. Subjects include the landscapes and historical sites in the region painted by Cezanne and Van Gogh. (6 credit hours.) 6 weeks. Tuition, $585. EUROPEAN CIVILIZATION AND EDUCATION (in English), in Aix-en-Provence. A course introducing American students to contemporary European Society, Literature, Politics and Art—with field trips—providing insights into the social evolution and cultural renaissance of the European community. Recommended for Education specialists. (6 credit hours.) 6 weeks. Tuition, $585. EUROPEAN BUSINESS AND MANAGEMENT (in English), in Aix-en-Provence. Euro- pean Management, Common Market Trade, Comparative Government and Business French. (3 credit hours.) 3 weeks. Tuition, $455. For further details write to: British Studies Centre ALSO Canterbury, England: “Literary Canterbury” The Director Summer Programs 27, place de I’Universite 13625—Aix-en-Provence France A Major New Crirical Study THE LATER CANTOS OF EZRA POUND by James J. Wilhelm The Cantos of Ezra Pound are considered by many to be the single most important body of poems written in the twentieth century. "The nearest thing we have," wrote Archibald MacLeish, "to a moral history of our tragic age is The Cantos of Ezra Pound." Despite the universal recognition of their importance, many of the Cantos remain enigmatic to scholars and lay readers alike. Their rich and often cryptic allusions, and their thematic complexity, make these poems difficult for all but the most erudite readers to fully comprehend. It is just this requisite erudition that James J. Wilhelm brings to his study of Pound's Later Cantos. These poems, begun in the years follow- ing Pound's incarceration in an animal cage in Italy in 1 945, are among the poet's greatest and most complex. In his book, Professor Wilhelm delineates Pound's major concerns, explaining his numerous references to the poetry of Dante,- the thought of Confucius; Neoplatonism,- John Adams, Thomas Jefferson, and other Founding Fathers,- Medieval ar- chitecture; and the principles of economics exemplified in the Byzantium of the Middle Ages. Cogently and profoundly, he describes the thought that unified these varied interests and forged a vision of a new earthly Paradise. James J. Wilhelm is professor of comparative literature at Rutgers University. His newest work, The Later Cantos of Ezra Pound, will be published in May. An invaluable contribution to Pound studies and to criticism of twentieth-century poetry, this lucid book, the first com- prehensive and authoritative study of the Later Cantos, fills a major vacuum at a time when interest in Pound is fast mounting. Please send me_____ copies of The Later Cantos of Ezra Pound at $15.00 per copy plus 500 for postage and handling. (New York State residents add 8% sales tax.) Enclosed is my check for $______ Name_________________________________________________ Ad ress_________________________________________________ City__ ._________________________________________________ Sta te_____________________________________ Z i p___________ <•> WALKER AND COMPANY 720 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10019 A Classical Lexicon for Finnegans Wake A Glossary of the Greek and Latin in the Major Works of Joyce Brendan O Hehir and John M. Dillion This much-needed guide takes its place beside its earlier companion volumes: O Hehir’s A Gaelic Lexicon for Finnegans Wake and Helmut Bonheim’s A Lexicon of the German in Finnegans Wake (both published by California). It follows the same tri-columnar format, listing words and phrases to be glossed in the first column, in order of their occurrence in the text; the middle column rectifies the textural appearance into a normalized Latin or Greek spelling: and the third column provides the gloss in the form of a translation or explanatory note. 500 pages, $22.50 The Origins of Evil in Hindu Mythology Wendy Doniger O’Flaherty O'Flaherty marshals more than a thousand myths, many of which have es- caped the notice of In- dologists or have never been translated before; all are newly translated here and illuminated by mutual comparison—one myth explaining another —and through a herme- neutical approach that draws upon textural ex- egesis and a study of the ritual context of Indian religion. 424 pages, $15.00 Americo Castro and the Meaning of Spanish Civilization Edited by Jose Rubia Barcia Throughout a long scholarly lifetime, Americo Castro (1885-1972) distinguished himself as one of the most sensitive interpreters of the Spanish spirit. This volume offers a systematic considera- tion of his thought. Among the essays included are Castro’s own “The Meaning of Spanish Civilization”; Stephen Gilman, “Literature and Historical Insight”; and Antony van Beysterveldt, “A New Perspective of Cervantes’ Work.” 360 pages, $14.50 Japan in the Muromachi Age Edited by John Whitney Hall and Toyoda Takeshi These proceedings of the 1973 Conference on Japan reveal a new interpretation of the Muro- machi Age (1334-1573). The literature, art forms, and esthetic principles of the era, as well as social and political practices gave rise to new patterns in a distinctly Japanese tradition. 392 pages, Illustrated, $17.50 University of California Press Berheley 94720) Browning’s Youth John Maynard This will stand as the definitive account of Robert Browning's developmentto maturity as a man and poet. Drawing on all available material, including new manuscript findings, John Maynard reconstructs the circumstances of Browning's youth. He traces Browning's early efforts to define his role as poet and gives particular attention to the powerful influence Shelley exerted on his early work. $20.00 Sheridan and the Drama of Georgian England John Loftis John Loftis assesses Richard Brinsley Sheridan and establishes his place in the eighteenth-century theater. He marks Sheridan’s debt to his Restoration predecessors, but demonstrates how thoroughly his work belongs to the eighteenth-century milieu. In discussing The Rivals, The School for Scandal, and other major works, he examines the strategy of literary burlesque that Sheridan employs with such audacity and continuing success. $7.95 arvard University PrpssI I Cambridge,Massachusetts 02138 MOVING? 1. For FASTEST service attach a mailing label (from PMLA or Newsletter) in space be- low. Otherwise please print clearly your address as we now have it. NAME ADDRESS CITY STATE ZIP 2. PRINT YOUR NEW MAILING ADDRESS HERE NAME ADDRESS CITY Please allow 6 weeks for change to take effect. NEW ACADEMIC AFFILIATION (for Directory of members) STATE ZIP RANK LANG. INST. CITY STATE ZIP 3. Please mail to: Membership Office, Modern Language Association 62 Fifth Avenue, New York, N.Y. 10011 Bowker’s Books on Books and Publishing Now in paperback- BOOK PUBLISHING What It Is, What It Does By John P Dessauer From reviews of the hardcover edition: “Book publishing has long lacked a really good introductory manual, but now Dessauer has given us one... .Should stand for some time as the basic book in the field T-Choice “The chapter on publishing finances... is un- questionably the best published description to date....In choosing one book which best ex- plains the structure and operation of the U.S. book publishing industry, one must now select the Dessauer title '.'-The Journal of Academic Librarianship Outline of Contents: Preface. Introduction. The Past is Prologue. A Broad Perspective. How Books Are Created. How Books Are Manufactured. How Books Are Marketed. How Books Are Stored and Delivered. How Publishers Finance, Plan, and Manage. Epilogue: What Does the Future Hold? Glos- sary. Bibliographic Note. Index. Paper: 0-8352-0953-9, Fall 1976, xv + 231 pp., $6.95 Cloth: 0-8352-0758-7, 1974, xv -I- 231 pp., $11.95 THE READER’S ADVISER A Layman s Guide to Literature Twelfth Edition Volume One: The Best in American and British Fiction, Poetry, Essays, Literary- Biography: Bibliog- raphy, and Reference Edited by Sarah L. Prakken “A must for the book-minded reader.”-7o/t« Barkham Reviews. “In chronological order from Anglo-Saxon times to Colin Wilson and Philip Roth, each author is characterized in pleasant biographical and critical notes, and his or her books are listed with publishing data ... an incredible supply of carefully selected literary informationTSaturdav Review 0-8352-0781-1, 1974, 808 pp.’, $25.00 Volume Two: The Best in American and British Drama and World Literature in English Translation Edited by F, J. Sypher Volume 2 is an annotated, topic-arranged guide to available books on American and British drama and foreign literature in translation. Ex- perts prepared the individual chapters, provid- ing new introductions, new biocritical sketches on the pertinent authors, and annotated listings of books by and about the authors. Pub date, publisher, and price are given for the books listed. Chapters covering the sweep of Ameri- can and British drama, from earliest times to the present, have been updated as have those on major European and world literatures. But the greatest expansion has been in the volume’s coverage of other European, Middle East, and Asian literatures. Countries like Estonia, Bul- garia, Latvia, Albania, the Ukraine, Armenia, arid Turkey are being adequately represented for the first time. 0-8352-0852-4, January 1977, c. 775 pp., $25 Volume Three: The Best in the Reference Literature of the World Edited by Jack A. Clarke, University of Wisconsin, Madison The final volume of the 12th edition of The Reader’s Adviser is a thoroughly updated, ex- panded guide to the best of the available English-language books on a wide range of non-literary subjects. Covering general refer- ence books and biography, Bibles, world reli- gions, philosophy, psychology, the sciences, history, the lively arts, communications, folklore, humor, and travel, it lists the most im- portant authors in each subject together with complete bibliographic listings of their works in print. While the emphasis is on recently pub- lished material, available reprints of standard works are included. 0-8352-0853-2, January 1977, c. 950 pp., $25 BOWKER NEW VDRK8. LONDON Order from R. R. Bowker Order Dept., P. O. Box 1807, Ann Arbor, Michigan 48106 Outside Western Hemisphere: Bowker, Erasmus House, Epping, Essex, England. All orders plus shipping and handling. Sales tax added where applicable. (Prices subject to change and slightly higher outside the U.S. and its possessions.) ANGLO-IRISH LITERATURE A REVIEW OF RESEARCH edited by Richard J. Finneran The concept of a viable tradition of Anglo-Irish literature is essentially a creation of the Revival period at the end of the nineteenth century, though the beginnings are evident some fifty years earlier. Developing out of that tradition—in different ways, of course—were some of the major writers of this century, as well as a great number of less familiar but nonetheless significant figures. This volume provides essays on writers associated with the Anglo-Irish tradition who have been the subject of a substantial body of published research. There are also chapters on general works, the major authors before the Revival, and the Irish drama (the last of which includes brief comments on many of the minor or contemporary writers otherwise excluded). A list of chapters and contributors follows: General Works (Richard M. Kain), Nineteenth-Century Writers (James F. Kilroy), Oscar Wilde (Ian Fletcher and John Stokes), George Moore (Helmut E. Gerber), Bernard Shaw (Stanley Weintraub), W. B. Yeats (Richard J. Finneran), J. M. Synge (Weldon Thornton), James Joyce (Thomas F. Staley), Four Revival Figures: Lady Gregory, A. E. (George W. Russell), Oliver St. John Gogarty, and James Stephens (James F. Carens), Sean O'Casey (David Krause), and the Modern Drama (Robert Hogan, Bonnie K. Scott, and Gordon Henderson). November 1976 616 pages $18.00 cloth $10.00 paper Send your order and check to: MLA Publications Center 62 Fifth Avenue New York, New York 10011 Joseph Conrad A Commemoration NORMAN SHERRY, Univ. of Lancaster, ed. This collection of papers by internationally known Conrad scholars were originally read at a 1974 Conrad conference held at Canterbury commemorating the 50th anniversary of his death. It gives an idea of the extraordinary range of concerns and themes taken up by the convention speakers: the influence of Conrad's work upon specific writers and upon literary and philosophical movements; Conrad's political viewpoint and his concept of society; Conrad as rhetorician, and the plurality of viewpoints within his novels. Spring 1977. 190 pages. $17.50 A Fever at the Core The Idealist in Politics JEFFREY MEYERS A certain type of man exists who is more tragic than Hamlet, and less effectual than Don Quixote. Jeffrey Meyers explores this species, to which Wilfred Blunt, Robert Graham, Roger Casement, T. E. Lawrence, Gabriele D'Annunzio and Andre Malraux all belonged: the artist intellectual who flings himself into the political arena but fails because he has left unresolved the Byronic con- flict between egotism and idealism. Fall 1976 $13.50 Ben Johnson Public Poet and Private Man GEORGE PARFITT, Univ. of Nottingham This fresh and original appraisal discusses particu- lar elements of Jonson: his personality and repu- tation; his use of language and of classical sources; his views on society and his own role in it, and his theatricality in the context of his total output. Spring 1977. 250 pages. $17.50 On Directing Shakespeare Interview with Contemporary Directors RALPH BERRY, Univ. of Manitoba Seven directors, all at the head of their profession, discuss in extended interviews how to direct Shakespeare in contemporary productions. The directors include Peter Brooks, who directed the controversial staging of A Midsummer Night's Dream/Jonathan Miller, Trevor Nunn, Michael Kann, and others. Spring 1977. 224 pages. $15.00 Sensibility and Creation Studies in Twentieth-Century French Poetry ROGER CARDINAL, Univ. of Kent, ed. A gathering of a dozen critical studies of the major French poets of this century. The analyses focus on the major sensibility which informs each poet's work; i.e., the way he selects and patterns the elements of his poetry. Poets of long-established reputation—such as Paul Valery, Pierre Reverdy, and Saint-John Perse—are included, as well as contemporary poets Yves Donnefoy and Jacques Dupin. Spring 1977. 290 pages. $17.50 Critical Perspectives on the Decameron ROBERT S. DOMBROSKI, Univ. of Connecticut, ed. This comprehensive selection of critical essays dealing with the Decameron provides a major reassessment of the lasting importance of Boccaccio's classic. Such a collection has never before been attempted in English, and no previous study in translation offers the range of authoritative critical comment con- tained in this volume. Spring 1977. 148 pages. Bibl. $13.50 Jane Austen's Achievement Papers Delivered at the Jane Austen Bicentennial Conference at the University of Alberta JULIET McMASTER, ed. These Austen bicentennical essays provide a wide range of views of Jane Austen as intellectual, woman and artist. The contributors are well known either as Austen scholars, or as critics of the novel or period. Though written sep- arately, the essays touch on each other at many points, and all share an exact focus on period and locale. Spring 1977. 139 pages. $16.00 The Poems of the Troubadour Peire Rogier DEREK E. T. NICHOLSON, ed. The first English-language edition since 1882 of the poems of 12th-century troubadour Peire Rogier provides an excellent example of poetry during the Golden Age of Provencal. Only eight poems remain of Rogier's work, including one of doubtful authenticity, and in these poems we see evidence of the clarity and naturalness which sets them apart from the artifice-laden work of later troubadours. Fall 1976. 176 pages. $13.50 BARNES rJMOBLE HARPER ^ROW 10 East 53d Street, New York, N. Y. 10022 THE USE OF MANUSCRIPTS IN LITERARY RESEARCH Problems of Access and Literary Property Rights BY JAMES THORPE At long last a publication that saves the inexperienced student or scholar from the confusions and uncertainties in the use of literary manuscripts. Since libraries and private collections rightfully safeguard manuscripts from irresponsible use and because manuscripts have certain legal protection, scholars are often frustrated in the freedom they need and baffled in how to go about getting it. In this informative and lively pamphlet, Dr. Thorpe, with his many years as a library director, has condensed a vast amount of information gathered from experi- enced scholars and heads of libraries throughout the world. He gives sage advice on how to locate manuscripts, how to use libraries and private collections, and how to carry on research at a distance. The many varieties of situations in gaining access to manuscripts such as admittance, regulations governing use, the making of photo- copies, and permissions to publish are all clearly explained. The scholar will acquire all the basic facts of literary property rights he needs with an abundance of examples. As a by-product of this publication, Dr. Thorpe hopes that some out-moded practices will be altered. Changes are due, and the pamphlet is replete with sugges- tions and salient reflections. May 1974 40 pages $1.50 paper MLA Publications Center 62 Fifth Avenue New York 10011 New from Columbia GEORGE SAND AND THE VICTORIANS PATRICIA THOMSON In this book, for the first time, the impact of George Sand on Vic- torian England and her influence upon major and minor nineteenth- century writers are fully assessed. Dr. Thomson maintains that “George Sandism” was an important Victorian phenomenon and must be taken into account in any discussion of the age. $17.50 SAMUEL PEPYS’ PENNY MERRIMENTS ROGER THOMPSON, Editor This charming selection from three volumes of chapbooks belong- ing to Samuel Pepys tells us much about popular taste of the period as well as of the famous diarist to whom they belonged. The brief extracts included here, beautifully illustrated with thirty original woodcuts, are compiled under such headings as histories, magic, courtship, social comment, and jokes and jests. cloth, $15.00; paper, $5.95 MODERN HUNGARIAN POETRY MIKLOS VAJDA, Editor With a Foreword by William Jay Smith The most comprehensive collection of modern Hungarian poetry available in English, this unique anthology consists of poems by forty-one contemporary Hungarian poets living and writing in the postwar years. Following rough translations from the Hungarian, the poems have been put into final poetic form by major American and British poets. $11.95 THE BOOM IN SPANISH AMERICAN LITERATURE A Personal History JOSE DONOSO Translated by Gregory Kolovakos The recent Boom in Latin American letters has brought to the forefront such outstanding writers as Gabriel Garcia Marquez, Julio Cortazar, Octavio Paz, Mario Vargas Llosa, and Jorge Luis Borges. This fascinating commentary by Chilean novelist Jose Donoso tells how the Boom actually came to be and provides glimpses into the literary lives of many of the era's most celebrated authors. cloth, $9.00; paper, $4.95 LOVE SONG OF THE DARK LORD Jayadeva’s GTtagovinda BARBARA STOLER MILLER, Editor and Translator With a Foreword by Wm. Theodore de Bary This volume presents a translation of the GTtagovinda, a lyrical erotic poem by Jayadeva (c. 12th century A. D.) that has been called the most beautiful lyric poem of classical Sanskrit literature. The book comes in a cloth edition with complete critical apparatus and a paperback edition with the introduction and translation alone, in a format more suitable for students and general readers. Translations from the Oriental Classics, cloth, $15.00; paper, $4.95 COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY PRESS Address for orders: 136 South Broadway, Irvington, New York 10533 What’s New in Literature? Shaw Literature: A College Anthology Patrick IV. Shaw Texas Tech University 1,280 pages / Instructor’s Manual Just published Shaw thinks a good introductory litera- ture anthology shouldn’t overwhelm students with explanations and edito- rial paraphernalia. So he offers a rich selection of short stories, novellas, plays, and poems, keeping biographi- cal headnotes, footnotes, and factual discussion questions to an essential minimum. Instructors are free to develop their own approaches. And students are introduced to literary fun- damentals in the works of established authors. Dube/Franson/Murphy/Parins Structure and Meaning: An Introduction to Literature Anthony Dube University of Arkansas John K. Franson University of Maine Russell B. Murphy University of Arkansas James IV. Parins University of Arkansas 1,200 pages / Instructor’s Manual 1976 A carefully organized, systematic ap- proach to the study of fiction, poetry, and drama. Selections, study ques- tions, and writing topics progress gradually from the least difficult to the more complex. McNulty Modes of Literature J. Bard McNulty Trinity College, Hartford 672 pages / Instructor’s Manual Just published McNulty gives students critical tools and a sampler of literature against which those critical concepts are tested. His Modes of Literature sam- ples stories, plays, and poems along with critical analysis and organizes them within a framework of narrative patterns and controlling images. Where appropriate, he matches these literary elements to similar patterns in popular literature, film, and television. Art portfolios relate literature to the visual arts of different eras. And a cross-index provides a quick compari- son of the themes, images, characters, and patterns in works produced during various historical periods. McNulty—a comprehensive, unified approach to literature. For adoption consideration, request examination copies from your regional Houghton Mifflin office. Houghton Mifflin New Editions from Houghton Mifflin Ferguson Images of Women in Literature Second Edition Edited by Mary Anne Ferguson University of Massachusetts 500 pages / paper / Just published Submissive wife, mother, bitch, seduc- tress, prey, old maid, liberated woman. These, in various genres, are the im- ages of women presented in Mary Anne Ferguson’s anthology of Ameri- can and European literature. Current issues in Images of Women in Litera- ture provide starting points for discus- sion and writing in first-year literature and composition courses. Headnotes, illustrations, and suggestions for further readings are also included. The Second Edition contains additional poetry and drama, and reviews current trends in viewing literature from the feminist perspective. Johnson/Sickles/Sayers/Horovitz Anthology of Children’s Literature Fifth Edition Edna Johnson Evelyn R. Sickles Frances Clarke Sayers Carolyn Horovitz University of California, Los Angeles 1,140 pages / Just published Anthology of Children’s Literature, Fifth Edition contains selections of con- sistently high caliber—from Newbery Award-winning prose to new poetry selected with the assistance of Myra Cohn Livingston. The Fifth Edition emphasizes art—a key element in children’s literature—with a history of illustrated books, a section on picture books, and an analytic approach to pic- ture book art. The Fifth Edition, reorganized and re- designed, makes an already successful text in children’s literature even better. For adoption consideration, request examination copies from your regional Houghton Mifflin office. Houghton Mifflin Writing 1-2-3 Klarner/Williams/Harp Writing by Design Walter E. Klarner James M. Williams Harold L. Harp, all of Johnson County Community College 288 pages / Instructor’s Manual Just published The step-by-step approach in Writing by Design is based on Christensen’s principles of generative grammar. Klarner, Williams, and Harp arrange their text from the smallest to the largest units—from sentence, to para- graph, to essay. Writing exercises move in a similar pattern. They draw first on students’ subjective experi- ences and progress toward objective prose assignments. Chapter overviews, objectives, self- tests, and exercises lend Writing by Design to individualized self-directed study. The text can also be combined with a more traditional lecture-text approach. comprehension skills. They also con- centrate on basic rules of writing with applications in practice exercises. English Skills Handbook: Reading and Writing is particularly suited to a devel- opmental reading and writing pro- gram; the language is clear and under- standable, and concepts are presented in simplified chart form to aid self- instruction. Wilcox Communication at Work: Writing and Speaking Roger Wilcox, General Motors Institute 448 pages / Just published Roger Wilcox concentrates on response-oriented writing for a specific job or purpose rather than theme- oriented, classroom writing. The suc- cinct presentation of topics such as ef- fective communication, persuasion, and oral communication makes this text appropriate for both English and Business curricula. Wiener/Bazerman English Skills Handbook: Reading and Writing Harvey Wiener The Pennsylvania State University Charles Bazerman, Baruch College 352 pages / paper Instructor’s Manual / Just published Wiener and Bazerman recognize the need for a developmental approach to both reading and writing. So they present in their handbook a basic read- ing skills section to reinforce vocabu- lary development, dictionary use, and For adoption consideration, request examination copies from your regional Houghton Mifflin office. Houghton Mifflin Freshman Comp and Competence McCrimmon Writing With a Purpose Sixth Edition James M. McCrimmon Florida State University 528 pages / Teaching with a Purpose, Instructor’s Guide and Resource Book, Webb Salmon and James M. McCrimmon / 1976 This thorough revision of one of the most successful rhetorics ever pub- lished emphasizes and effectively teaches purpose during the prewriting, writing, and revision stages of composition. McCrimmon Writing With a Purpose Short Edition (Based on the Sixth Edition) James M. McCrimmon Florida State Uniuersity 360 pages / Teaching with a Purpose, Instructor’s Guide and Resource Book, Webb Salmon and James M. McCrimmon/ Just published McCrimmon’s new Short Edition re- tains the rhetoric portion of the new Sixth Edition and eliminates the hand- book section. In its place is a conven- ient reference chart to five major handbooks. Dagher Writing: A Practical Guide Joseph P. Dagher Schoolcraft College 352 pages I paper Instructor’s Manual /1975 Dagher stresses prewriting and pre- thinking to help students control what they write before they write. Students use “You Be the Judge” sections as criteria for evaluating their own work. Symes Two Voices: Writing about Literature Ken M. Symes Western Washington State College 320 pages / paper / 1976 Students discover two writing “voices”—the first by writing about their own experiences, the second by writing about techniques used in liter- ary works. The approach stresses pre- writing and creative writing in both the experiential and critical voices. Trimmer/Kettler American Oblique: Writing about the American Experience Edited by Joseph F. Trimmer Ball State Uniuersity and Robert R. Kettler Miami Uniuersity, Ohio 382 pages / Teaching American Oblique: An Instructor’s Manual paper / 1976 Twelve thematic sections arranged within the basic rhetorical modes of narration, description, exposition, and argument focus on the American expe- rience. Topics examine facets of American life from many angles and encourge student response in discussion and writing. For adoption consideration, request examination copies from your regional Houghton Mifflin office. Houghton Mifflin LANGUAGE BASICS FROM HEATH MEL HEW ENGLISH Heath’s College Handbook of Composition, Ninth Edition Langdon Elsbree, Claremont Men’s College Frederick Bracher, Pomona College Nell Altlzer, University of Hawaii 7977 Cloth and Paper 448 pages Clear, sensible answers to questions on English usage and rhetoric make this new volume an in- dispensible reference tool for every college student. Instructor’s Manual (including answers to Handbook and Workbook exercises) and Heath’s College Workbook of Composition. Also available in paper. . . Heath’s Brief Handbook of Usage, Ninth Edition Toward Reading Comprehension, Second Edition Julia Florence Sherboume, Eckerd College and Orange County Community College 7977 Paper 528 pages An increased emphasis on study skills (out- lining, reading and studying textbooks, asking and answering questions, etc.), many new selec- tions, new materials on reading rates and a semi- programmed format (answers follow exercises and questions) update the second edition of this text/workbook of carefully structured les- sons and exercises in vocabulary, organization, comprehension, reading rate, and critical evalu- ation. The Authentic Writer Freshman Rhetoric and Composition James M.Mellard,Northern Illinois University James C. Wilcox, Boston University 7977 Paper 256 pages Numerous models from professional and stu- dent writings, imaginative exercises, and clear explanations of rhetorical skills lead students from highly personal forms of writing (journal- keeping) to discursive forms of communication — written, oral, and multimedia.\_________________ _ ____________________ / (FRENCH La Presse II: Contemporary Issues in French Newspapers Jacqueline Morton, Wayne State University Brian N. Morton, University of Michigan 7977 Paper 256 pages This cultural reader containing articles from leading French newspapers and magazines (Le Monde, Le Figaro, L’Express, France-Soir, Le Nouvel Observateur) introduces the student to contemporary language and topics. The selected articles also serve as a basis for discus- sion of social and ethical issues of the day. SPANISH cComo se dice.. .? Ana C. Jarvis, Riverside City College Raquel Lebredo, University of Redlands Francisco Mena, California State University, Chico January 1977 Cloth 512 pages Offers a balanced 4-skill approach to the teach- ing of introductory Spanish including (1) dia- logues; (2) pronunciation rules; (3) grammati- cal explanations; (4) progressive skill develop- ment; (5) an integrated summary; (6) brief read- ing exercises; (7) cultural readings and (8) re- view sections at four-lesson intervals. Student Workbook/Laboratory Manual/Self-tests, Tapes or Cassettes. Repaso Practico y Cultural, Fourth Edition Vincenzo Cioffari, Boston University Emilio Gonzalez, City College of New York February 1977 Cloth 352 pages New edition reflects a practical and functional approach to language study at an intermediate level, with emphasis on career orientation. Stu- dent Workbook, Tapes, or Cassettes. Modern Spanish Syntax: A Study in Contrasts Yolanda R. Sole, University of Texas — Austin Carlos A. Sole, University of Texas — Austin 7977 Cloth 512 pages This book for advanced students of language and literature analyzes the contrasts that exist within Spanish itself, at the same time develop- ing students’ awareness of differences between Spanish and English. For details or sample copies, call us toll free: 800-225*1388. In Massachusetts, call collect: 617*862-6660, ext. 1344. D.C. Heath and Company Home Office: 125 Spring Street, Lexington, Massachusetts 02173 Stitt Offictt: Atlanta, Ga. 30318 / Rockville, Md. 20852 / St. Louis, Mo. IJI? A'T'Ll 63132 / San Antonio, Texas 78217 / Novato, Calif. 94947 / Toronto, ntA I rl Ontario M5H 1S9 A Raytheon Company BOOKS/zw/z £lcepy ZHo/low T^s tor at ions JUST PUBLISHED A CENTURY OF COMMENTARY on the works of Washington Irving edited by Andrew B. Myers A collection of commentary on the life and works of America’s first internationally successful author. Forty-five selections, dating from 1860 to 1974, with a general introduction and notes on each article by the editor. An indispensable volume for scholars and libraries. 544 pages • illustrations • chronology • index • clothbound • $20.00 WASHINGTON IRVING’S CLASSIC WORKS: RIP VAN WINKLE and THE LEGEND OF SLEEPY HOLLOW A new edition with 12 original illustrations by 19th century artist F. O. C. Darley, illumi- nated in full color, text from the Author’s Revised Edition of 1848, reproductions of original manuscript pages, and introduction by Haskell Springer. 152 pages • 12 full color illustrations clothbound • $9.95 SLEEPY HOLLOW RESTORATIONS LIFE OF GEORGE WASHINGTON Irving’s classic biography of George Wash- ington, originally published in five volumes from 1855 to 1859, edited and abridged by Jess Stein, with an introduction by noted historian Richard B. Morris. 800 pages • 30 illustrations • chronology index • clothbound • $19.95 Box 245 • Tarrytown, N.Y. 10591 MOSAIC A Journal for the Comparative Study of Literature and Ideas VOL X, NO. 2 (JANUARY 1977) FAERIE, FANTASY and PSEUDO-MEDIAEVALIA in twentieth-century literature edited by JOHN WORTLEY Articles by: Muriel Bradbrook, Francois Gallix, Colin Manlove, Tom Shippey, Fred Wagner and others. Hard Cover $1 1.25 Soft Cover $3.00 MOSAIC, 208 Tier Building, University of Manitoba Winnipeg, Canada R3T 2N2 Victorian Prose: A Guide to Research Edited by David J. DeLaura University of Pennsylvania In the revival of serious interest in all things Victorian in the past two decades, the high artistry of the great nineteenth-century prose "sages” has been thoroughly established. The Victorian prose prophets, despite their very different individual points of view, turned their attention to a set of problems that have continued to absorb all serious modern readers—problems as pressing as pollution, the condition of the worker in the modern industrial process, and the role of an educated elite in a democratic society. The central role of these Victorian sages in establishing a con- tinuing "humanistic” attitude in modern life—conservative in its concern for pre- serving the best values of the older culture, yet aware of the need for new and even radical solutions to the "human problem” in a new society—has been thoroughly demonstrated in recent years. This volume advances our understanding of this highly significant and talented body of work, first by summarizing and criticizing modern studies in the field, and second by suggesting neglected aspects of thought and artistry worthy of the atten- tion of future scholars and critics. Thirteen scholars, many of them well-known ex- perts in Victorian studies, have here synthesized, criticized, and extended our under- standing of this large and continuingly relevant body of work. Individual chapters are devoted to the major figures: Carlyle, Macaulay, Newman, Mill, Ruskin, Arnold, and Pater. Four omnibus chapters bring together a wide range of further topics: the Critics, the Unbelievers, the Oxford Movement, and Victorian Religion. This volume will prove indispensable to all serious students of the literature, his- tory, and culture of nineteenth-century England. 1973 576 pages $15.00 cloth $ 6.50 paper MLA Publications Center Modern Language Association 62 Fifth Avenue New York 10011 Spring Literature from North Carolina Books That Changed the South by Robert B. Downs A discussion of twenty-five books that have had the greatest impact on the history and culture of the South, by the author of Books That Changed the World and Books That Changed America. xvii, 292 pp., illus. $10.95 The Education of the Heart The Correspondence of Rachel Mordecai Lazarus and Maria Edgeworth Edited with an Introduction by Edgar E. MacDonald A fascinating literary exchange between a Southern Jewish schoolteacher and the celebrated nineteenth-century English novelist. approx. 328 pp. $15.95 The American Idea The Literary Response to American Optimism by Everett Carter Treats the reaction to the prevailing belief in the essential goodness and progress of man in nineteenth-century American literature. ix, 276 pp. $14.95 Fact and Fiction The New Journalism and the Nonfiction Novel by John Hollowell A clear, incisive, and critically sharp portrait of what the new journalists and novelists are doing and why. xiv, 185 pp. $11.95 Elizabethan Drama and the Viewer’s Eye by Alan C. Dessen Adds a third perspective, the contextual knowledge of the historian, to those views of the director and the critic of Elizabethan drama. approx. 184 pp. $12.95 Order from your bookstore or send check to: The University of North Carolina Press Box 2288, Chapel Hill 27514 Penn State The Pennsylvania State University Press, University Park, Pa. 16802 T. S. Eliot's Personal Waste Land Exorcism of the Demons James E, Miller, Jr. " James E. Miller, Jr. has accomplished the seemingly impossible — given a radically new reading of The Waste Land. The hitherto well-kept secret of Eliot's friendship with Jean Verdenal, the effect of this friendship and ofVerdenal's death [at Gallipoli] upon Eliot's attitude to women, its almost disastrous effect on his creativity, the references to Verdenal in The Waste Land and Four Quartets, are here explored for the first time. We may take exception to some of Miller's interpretations, but his facts are. incontrovertible. There can be no doubt that The Waste Land is, above all, a personal utterance, as Eliot said it was and Miller shows. Any serious study of this most famous poem, from this time on, will have to take into account T. S. Eliot's Personal Waste Land." LOUIS SIMPSON "Any book that honestly attempts to reveal a coherence in Eliot's Waste Land is to be applauded. Basing his findings on the original text, Mr. Miller presents a firm thesis, which will be widely discussed. Whatever be the exact truth, Eliot comes out of it well. In place of a bland know-all throwing off enigmas to baffle ardent disciples, we are invited to watch a tormented soul striving through great poetry towards spiritual self-mastery.'' G WILSON knig HT $12.95 Aubrey Beardsley Imp of the Perverse Stanley Weintraub In a front-page review in the New York Times Book Review in 1967, art critic John Russell wrote of Beardsley that "as a biography—a life's story" the book "needs no successor." Aubrey Beardsley: Imp of the Perverse began as an updating of the original biography but new material at hand and the need to reinterpret Beardsley from the perspective of augmented life-records made a mere updating impractical, especially since the climate for publishing has become far more receptive to truth in biography, however explicit. 198 ill. 9" x 8" cloth $15.00 paper $7.95 The Memoirs of Arthur Symons Life and Art in the 1890s Edited by Karl Beckson This book is the literary and private biography of the man Yeats called "the most important critic of his generation." Arthur Symons' Memoirs combine material never before published with essays reprinted from scattered sources, arranged according to a plan that Symons outlined to his literary agent but that has remained unrealized until now. $14.50 Fabian Feminist Bernard Shaw and Woman Edited by Rodelle Weintraub All contributors are leading Shavians: Elsie Adams, Gladys M. Crane, Andrina Gilmartin, Germaine Greer, Norbert Greiner, Lucile Kelling Henderson, Josephine Johnson, Dolores Kester, Sonja Lorichs, Janie Caves McCauley, Rhoda B. Nathan, Lise Pedersen, Susan C. Stone, Timothy G. Vesonder, Sally Peters Vogt, Marlie Parker Wasserman, Barbara Bellow Watson, Rodelle Weintraub, and Stanley Weintraub. $13.50 John Barth: An Introduction David Morrell “. . . lively, intelligent, well-researched ... a good introduction to Barth." Robert Scholeg $10.00 The Novels of the Harlem Renaissance Twelve Black Writers, 1923-1933 Amritjit Singh The novelists discussed are Arna Bontemps, Countee Cullen, W. E. B. DuBois, Jessie Redmon Fauset, Rudolph Fisher, Langston Hughes, Nella Larsen, Claude McKay, George S. Schuyler, Wallace Thurman, Jean Toomer, and Walter F. White. $12.00 "New Women" in the Late Victorian Novel Lloyd Fernando Most of the major challenges of the women's liberation movement, argues this book, were reflected in late 19th-century fiction, and this concern had a significant effect on the art of the novel. $13.75 The Pennsylvania State University Press University Park, Pa. 16802 Science-Fiction Studies S3.00 #9 = Volume 3, Part 2 = July 1976 = 3:101-216 Copyright ©1976 by R.D. Mullen and Darko Suvin Stephen H. Goldman. The Polymorphic Worlds of John Brunner: How Do They Happen?... 103 Michael Stern. From Technique to Critique: Knowledge and Human Interests in Brunner’s Stand on Zanzibar, The Jagged Orbit, and The Sheep Look Up...112 Walter E. Meyers. The Future History and Development of the English Language... 130 Albert I. Berger. The Triumph of Prophecy: Science Fiction and Nuclear Power in the Post-Hiroshima Period... 143 Charles Nicol. Ballard and the Limits of Mainstream SF...150 J. Max Patrick. Iconoclasm, the Complement of Utopianism... 157 Alex Eisenstein. The Time Machine and the End of Man... 161 David Y. Hughes. Bergonzi and After in the Criticism of Wells’s SF...165 Nadia Khouri. Utopia and Epic: Ideological Confrontation in Jack London’s The Iron Heel...174 Darko Suvin and David Douglas. Jack London and His Science Fiction: A Select Bibliography... 181 Aija Ozolins. Recent Work on Mary Shelley and Frankenstein... 187 Books in Review. Utopias Imagined and Attempted: Roemer and LeWarne (Arthur O. Lewis)...202 Fantasy Versus Science Fiction: Manlove’s Modern Fantasy (RDM)...205 Chatty Memoirs: Hell’s Cartographers and The Early Pohl (RDM)...208 Fans and Pros: Chauvin’s A Multitude of Visions (RDM)...209 Notes, Reports, and Correspondence Hypocrite lecteur!—mon semblable,—mon frere! (RDM)...210 On Wolk, Eisenstein, and Christianson in SFS #8 (DS)...2U In Response to Professor Suvin (Gale E. Christianson)...213 On the Age of the Term “Science Fiction” (Brian W. Aldiss)...213 Documents in the History of Science Fiction (RDM)...214 A New Bibliography of Wells (Patrick Parrinder)...214 Notes on various matters by various hands...214-15 Subscription to Volume 4 (##11-12-13), 1977: $6.00 in USA elsewhere $7.00 in US funds. SFS Subscriptions, English Dept., Indiana State University, Terre Haute IN 47809. An Acclaimed, Successful Themewriting Text Has Been Revised, Expanded, and Improved. The Way You Wanted It. Because At Prentice-Hall, We Listen. WRITING THEMES ABOUT LITERATURE, 4th Edition Edgar V. Roberts - Herbert H. Lehman College, City University of New York (with more than a little bit of help from his friends in the field) This major revision of the leading guide to writing themes about literature has been based, in significant measure, on feedback from a great many users of the text. The result? An already effective approach to the subject has been made even more so — an even greater aid to both instructor and student in any course concerned with writing about literature. Progressing from the simplest to the most difficult literary concepts, this one- or two- semester text now offers greater flexibility and balance in combining discussion and illus- trative themes covering stories, novels, drama, poetry, and non-fiction. What’s New... • Entire chapter on the precis • The number of sample themes greatly increased • Commentaries accompanying each theme • Discussion of literary genres • Special report covering non-fiction scientific prose • New material on the extended comparison and contrast theme • Section on humor and irony And Revised... • Greater emphasis on non-fictional prose • Thorough re-writing of many chapters, including sample themes • Increased detail on symbolism • Chapter on Prosody completely revised to strengthen relationship to words and ideas • Approach to prose style rearranged and clarified • Notes on documentation now include more information on footnoting and reference In addition, the companion Teacher’s Manual, also available, has been updated to keep pace and to anticipate and forestall problems that students may encounter in writing themes described in the text. 1977 320 pp. (est.) Paper $4.95 For more information, or to order an examina- tion copy of WRITING THEMES ABOUT LITERATURE, 4th Edition, please write to: Robert Jordan, Prentice-Hall, Inc., Dept. J-708, Englewood Cliffs, New Jersey 07532. Price subject to change without notice. Prenfice-Hdll FRESHMAN COMPOSITION NEW THE MACMILLAN HANDBOOK OF ENGLISH . Sixth Edition 1977! The late John M. Kierzek, formerly, Oregon State University; Walker Gibson, University of Massachusetts, Amherst; Revised by Robert F. Willson, Jr., University of Missouri, Kansas City The SIXTH EDITION presents a clear, deductive discussion of prin- ciples of standard English usage and composition. An INSTRUC- TOR’S MANUAL is available. 1977 512 pages (approx.) flexible cover NEW COLLEGE WRITING A Rhetoric and Handbook J. Harold Janis, Emeritus, 1977! New York University This complete rhetoric—reader for freshman composition provides a thorough appraisal of correct, stan- dard English usage for academic and practical purposes. An IN- STRUCTOR’S MANUAL is available. 1977 512 pages (approx.) flexible cover NEW ENGLISH FUNDAMENTALS IN ^ltlon’ FORM B Donald W. Emery, University of 1! Washington; the late John M. Kierzek; and Peter Lindblom, Miami- Dade Community College This SIXTH EDITION presents a se- quence of lessons, each comprising a unit of usage, that progresses from the parts of speech through the short essay. 1977 320 pages (approx.) paper ALSO AVAILABLE — FORM A, Sixth Edition, 1976 FORM C, Fifth Edition, 1972 PARAGRAPH PRACTICE Third Edition Kathleen E. Sullivan, Merritt College The THIRD EDITION of this basic text for composition courses has been revised in its exposition, ex- amples, and organization for greater clarity and currency. 1976 186 pages paper THE ELEMENTS OF STYLE Second Edition William Strunk, Jr., and E. B. White A BEST SELLER! . . . This "little” book will show your students how to cut the deadwood out of their sentences, enliven their prose, and put sentences in positive form. 1972 78 pages paper READING FOR RHETORIC Third Edition Caroline Shrodes, Clifford Josephson, James R. Wilson, all San Francisco State University This popular text includes forty- nine readings; outstanding pedagog- ical aids; exercises following se- lections; and suggested writing assignments for each selection. 1975 624 pages paper THE CONSCIOUS READER Caroline Shrodes, Harry Finestone, California State University, Northridge, and Michael F. Shugrue, City College of New York This is a classic text that provides diversity of subject matter; explicit, direct, concrete models; and brief works averaging less than 5,000 words. 1974 1037 pages paper NEW IN 19771 INTRODUCTION TO LITERATURE ANTHOLOGY Lynn Altenbernd, The University of Illinois There are 416 works included in this NEW introductory anthology that presents a diverse collection of forms, themes, periods, sub-genres, techniques, and reading levels. An INSTRUCTOR’S MANUAL is avail- able. 1977 1664 pages (approx.) paper LITERATURE 1 Emil Roy and Sandra Roy, both, University of South Carolina, Aiken This exciting text presents 121 se- lections; includes popular as well as classic works; and is accompanied by elaborate apparatus. An IN- STRUCTOR’S MANUAL is available. 1976 669 pages paper INTRODUCTION TO LITERATURE: POEMS Third Edition Lynn Altenbernd and the late Leslie L. Lewis, formerly, University of Colorado POEMS is a generous representa- tion of every major poet and poetic form in British and American poetry spanning the period from the Mid- dle Ages to the present. 1975 880 pages paper FICTION 100 An Anthology of Short Stories James H. Pickering, Michigan State University A highly popular text, FICTION 100 embodies a chronologically com- plete survey of the short story. An INSTRUCTOR’S MANUAL is avail- able. 1974 1048 pages paper MASTERPIECES OF THE DRAMA The late Alexander W. Allison, formerly, University of Michigan; Arthur J. Carr, Williams College; and Arthur M. Eastman, Carnegie- Mellon University This generous collection of drama presents a chronological ordering of great works from classical through contemporary times. 1974 937 pages paper Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc., 100A Brown Street, Riverside, N.j. AMERICAN LITERATURE ENGLISH LITERATURE ANTHOLOGY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE Genera/ Editor: George McMichael, California State University, Hayward; Advisory Editors: Richard P. Adams, Tulane University; Frederick Crews, University of California, Berkeley; J. C. Levenson, University of Virginia; Leo Marx, Amherst College; David E. Smith, Hampshire College An exciting collection of the litera- ture of America. An INSTRUCTOR'S MANUAL is available. Volume I Colonial Through Romantic 1974 1924 pages paper Volume II Realism To The Present 1974 2060 pages paper —And also available is an abridged, one-volume version . . . CONCISE ANTHOLOGY OF AMERICAN LITERATURE 1974 2007 pages paper DRAMA OF THE ENGLISH RENAISSANCE, I & II Russell A. Fraser, University of Michigan and Norman Rabkin, University of California, Berkeley The first NEW major Renaissance drama anthology in 40 years, this two-volume collection includes forty-one plays, many never before anthologized. I. The Tudor Period 536 pages paper 1976 II. The Stuart Period 736 pages paper VICTORIAN LITERATURE: PROSE G. B. Tennyson, University of California, Los Angeles and Donald J. Gray, Indiana University The first major anthology of Vic- torian prose to appear in nearly 40 years, this text features not only the major writers of the period but also thirty other writers whose achievements contribute to a fuller understanding of the period. 1976 1216 pages VICTORIAN LITERATURE: POETRY Donald J. Gray and G. B. Tennyson This exceptionally rich collection of Victorian verse features in-depth presentation of twenty-six notable poets; some of the last poems of Wordsworth; scrupulous annotation throughout; and biographical out- lines for each major author. 1976 960 pages BIBLIOGRAPHY JOURNALISM SELECTIVE BIBLIOG- RAPHY FOR THE STUDY OF ENGLISH AND AMERICAN LITERATURE Fifth Edition Richard D. Altick and Andrew Wright An outstanding guide to British and American research. 1975 168 pages paper NEW IN 1977! FILM FILM AND THE CRITICAL EYE Dennis DeNitto and William Herman, both, City College of the City University of New York This film text includes four intro- ductory chapters on how to view and interpret film and the language and rhetoric of film; detailed de- scriptions and analyses of fourteen classic films; and commentaries on six films. 1975 543 pages paper NEW IN 1977! NEW IN 1977! INTERPRETATIVE REPORTING Seventh Edition Curtis D. MacDougall, Professor Emeritus of Journalism, Northwestern University The SEVENTH EDITION continues this bestselling how-to-do-it book’s tradition of stressing the funda- mentals of reporting no matter what the medium: newspaper, magazine, radio, television. 1977 544 pages (approx.) THE COMPLETE REPORTER Third Edition Julian Harriss and Kelly Leiter, both. University of Tennessee; and the late Stanley Johnson, formerly, University of Tennessee This revised and rewritten THIRD EDITION provides thorough ground- work in the principles of practical journalism — newsgathering, writ- ing and editing — and supplies a liberal quantity of exercises which train the student to apply those principles. 1977 448 pages (approx.) paper THE ART OF EDITING Second Edition Floyd K. Baskette, University of Colorado and Jack Z. Sissors, Northwestern University The SECOND EDITION of this pop- ular book gives comprehensive coverage of all phases of editing; provides examples from actual media sources; and includes 93 new illustrations. 1977 464 pages (approx.) Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc., 100A Brown Street, Riverside, NJ. QMacmil The English Romantic Poets A Review of Research and Criticism THIRD EDITION Edited by Frank Jordan, Jr Miami University This third edition of The English Romantic Poets: A Review of Research and Criticism brings up to date the survey made originally in 1950 and revised in 1956 by T. M. Raysor and other eminent Romantic scholars under the sponsorship of the English 9 Group of the MLA. The revised chapters record and describe the books and articles published since the second edition, and reflect the new perspectives on Romanticism especially and on literary studies generally that have developed in the past decade and a half. The contents include: The Romantic Movement—Frank Jordan , Jr . (original chapter by Ernest Bernbaum) Wordsworth—Ford T. Swetnam, Jr. (Ernest Bernbaum and James V. Logan, Jr.) Coleridge—Max F. Schulz and Rene Wellek (T. M. Raysor) Byron—Ernest J. Lovell , Jr . (Samuel C. Chew) Shelley—Donald H. Reiman (Bennett Weaver) Keats—David Perkins (Clarence D. Thorpe) 1972 468 pages $12.00 cloth $ 5.50 paper MLA Publications Center 62 Fifth Avenue New York 10011 10% discount on orders oj 20 or more. Please send prepayment jor orders under $10.00. LULL1 Llili L VI oueee ll . l l b RECENT AND FORTHCOMING PUBLICATIONS AMERICAN LITERATURE & LITERARY CRITICISM THE AMERICAN IDEA: THE LITERARY RE- SPONSE TO AMERICAN OPTIMISM, by Everett Carter. North Carolina, February 1977, $14.95 AMERICAN LITERATURE, 1764-1789: THE REVOLUTIONARY YEARS, ed. by Everett Emer- son. Wisconsin, March 1977, $15.00 AMERICAN SOLDIER IN FICTION, 1880-1963: A HISTORY OF ATTITUDES TOWARD WARFARE AND THE MILITARY ESTABLISHMENT, by Peter Aichinger. Iowa State, 1975, $7.50 THE ART OF LIFE, by Mutlu Konuk Biasing. Texas, February 1977, $11.95 BOOKS THAT CHANGED THE SOUTH, by Robert B. Downs. North Carolina, March 1977, $10.95 THE BUILDING OF UNCLE TOM’S CABIN, by E. Bruce Kirkham. Tennessee, Spring 1977, $12.95 CONVERSATIONS WITH WRIGHT MORRIS: CRI- TICAL VIEWS AND RESPONSES, ed. and with an introduction by Robert E. Knoll. Nebraska, January 1977, $10.95 cl., $3.95 p. EDUCATED LIVES: THE RISE OF AUTO- BIOGRAPHY IN AMERICA, by Thomas Cooley. Ohio State, March 1,1977, $12.00 FACT AND FICTION: THE NEW JOURNALISM AND THE NONFICTION NOVEL, by John Hol- lowell. North Carolina, March 1977, $11.95 FAULKNER'S WOMEN: MYTH AND THE MUSE, by David Williams. McGill-Queens, 1977, $16.00 tenta- tive FROST: CENTENNIAL ESSAYS II, ed. by Jac Tharpe. Mississippi, January 1977, $12.00 HARRIET MONROE AND THE POETRY RENAISSANCE: THE FIRST TEN YEARS OF POETRY, 1912-22, by Ellen Williams. Illinois, January 1977, $8.95 HART CRANE’S THE BRIDGE: A DESCRIPTION OF ITS LIFE, by Richard P. Sugg. Alabama, January 1977, $6.50 cl., $2.95 p. HEART ATTACKS, by Edmund Skellings. FLORIDA, 1976, $5.00 THE HOLE IN THE FABRIC: SCIENCE, CONTEM- PORARY LITERATURE, AND HENRY JAMES, by Strother B. Purdy. Pittsburgh, December 1976, $11.95 I AM: A STUDY OF E.E. CUMMINGS’ POEMS, by Gary Lane. Kansas, May 1976, $9.50 cl., $4.00 p. JACK KEROUAC, PROPHET OF THE NEW RO- MANTICISM, by Robert A. Hipkiss. Kansas, November 1976, $10.50 THE MAN WHO WAS THERE, by Wright Morris. Nebraska, January 1977, $10.95 cl., $3.25 p. MANY FUTURES, MANY WORLDS: THEME AND FORM IN SCIENCE FICTION, by Thomas D. Clare- son.KentState, March 1977,$12.50cl.,$5.50 p. MARIANNE MOORE: POET OF AFFECTION, by Pamela White Hadas. Syracuse, May 1977, $15.00 THE MARK TO TURN: A READING OF WILLIAM STAFFORD’S POETRY, by Jonathan Holden. Kan- sas, June 1976, $8.50 cl., $3.25 p. THE MIDDLE WAY: PURITANISM AND IDEOLOGY IN AMERICAN ROMANTIC FICTION, by Michael T. Gilmore. Rutgers, March 1977, $11.00 THE MYTHOPOEIC REALITY: THE POSTWAR AMERICAN NONFICTION NOVEL, by Mas ud Zavarzadeh. Illinois, March 1977, $8.95 THE SANDPIPERS, by David Posner. Florida, 1976, $5.00 regular ed., $20.00 deluxe SHORT STORY THEORIES, ed. by Charles E. May. Ohio, December 1976, $10.00 cl., $4.25 p. tentative STONE, by John Unterecker. Hawaii, February 1977. $3.95 p. TENNESSEE STUDIES IN LITERATURE, Volume XXI (American Literature Issue), ed. by Richard Kelly and Allison Ensor. Tennessee, October 25, 1976, $7.50 RECENT AND WIELAND AND “MEMOIRS OF CARWIN”, by Charles Brockden Brown. Kent State, March 1977, $20.00 A WORLD DISMANTLED: MOBY-DICK AND THE ORIGINS OF PROPHETIC ART, by T. Walter Herbert, Jr. Rutgers, March 1977, $10.50 ENGLISH-LANGUAGE LITERATURE & LITERARY CRITICISM ALAN CRAWLEY AND CONTEMPORARY VERSE, by Joan McCullagh. British Columbia, April 1976, $11.00 ALLEGORY IN DAVID COPPERFIELD, by Jane Vogel. Alabama, March 1977, )12.50 ANATOMIES OF EGOTISM: A READING OF THE LAST NOVELS OF H.G. WELLS, by Robert Bloom. Nebraska, February 1977, $12.95 tentative APPROACHES TO JOYCE’S PORTRAIT: TEN ESSAYS, ed. by Thomas F. Staley and Bernard Benstock. Pittsburgh, December 1976, $11.95 THE ART OF THE SELF IN D.H. LAWRENCE, by Marguerite Beede Howe. Ohio, December 1976, $10.00 tentative CRABBE’S ARABESQUE: SOCIAL DRAMA IN THE POETRY OF GEORGE CRABBE, by Ronald B. Hatch. McGill-Queen’s, December 1976, $14.00 FABIAN FEMINIST: BERNARD SHAW AND WOMAN, by Rodelle Weintraub. Pennsylvania, January 1977, $13.50 FIGURES OF LIFE AND DEATH IN MEDIEVAL ENGLISH LITERATURE, by Philippa Tristram. New York, January 1977, $22.50 THE FINAL YEARS OF THOMAS HARDY, 1912-1928, by Harold Orel. Kansas, October 15, 1976, $14.00 GODWIN AND MARY: LETTERS OF WILLIAM GODWIN AND MARY WOLLSTONECRAFT, ed. by Ralph M. Wardle. Nebraska, February 1977, $7.95 cl., $2.65 p. IRISH HISTORY AND CULTURE: ASPECTS OF A PEOPLE’S HERITAGE, ed. by Harold Orel. Kansas, August 1976, $14.00 cl., $8.95 p. MARLOWE, TAMBURLAINE, AND MAGIC, by James Robinson Howe. Ohio, August 2, 1976, $11.00 THE MEMOIRS OF ARTHUR SYMONS, by Karl Beckson. Pennsylvania State, March 1977, $14.50 MILTON STUDIES: VOLUME IX, ed. by James D. Simmonds. Pittsburgh, November 1976, $17.50 THE PHILOSOPHICAL IRONY OF LAURENCE STERNE, by Helene Moglen. Florida, 1975, $7.50 A PROVISION OF HUMAN NATURE: ESSAYS ON FIELDING AND OTHERS IN HONOR OF MIRIAM AUSTIN LOCKE, ed. by Donald Kay. Alabama, March 1977, $8.50 ROMANTIC AND MODERN: REVALUATIONS OF LITERARY TRADITION, ed. by George Bornstein. Pittsburgh, December 1976, $11.95 SHAKESPEARE’S DRAMATIC LANGUAGE, by Madeleine Doran. Wisconsin, January 1977, $11.00 THE STYLISTIC LIFE OF SAMUEL JOHNSON, by William R. Vesterman. Rutgers, March 1977, $10.00 T.S. ELIOT’S PERSONAL WASTE LAND, by James E. Miller, Jr. Pennsylvania State, January 1977, $12.95 THE VICTORIAN EXPERIENCE: THE NOVELISTS, ed. by Richard Levine. Ohio, July 26,1976, $12.00 WIGALOIS: THE KNIGHT OF FORTUNE’S WHEEL, by Wirnt von Grafenberg. Nebraska, March 1977, $12.95 tentative THE WORKS OF THE GAWA/N-POET, by Charles Moorman. Mississippi, January 1977, $25.00 bLUEt- EEBBS FORTHCOMING PUBLICATIONS ROMANCE LANGUAGE LITERATURE & LITERARY CRITICISM ALBERT CAMUS OU L’lMAGINATION DU DESERT, by Laurent Mailhot. Montreal, 1973, $9.50 ANDRE GIDE OU L’lRONIE DE L’ECRITURE, by Martine Maisani-Leonard. Montreal, 1976, $13.75 ANNE HEBERT ET LE MIRACLE DE LA PAROLE, by Jean-Louis Major. Montreal, 1976, $4.50 AVEZ-VOUS RELU DUCHARME?, Revue Etudes franQaises. Montreal, 1975, $5.00 COMMYNES MEMORIALISTE, by Jeanne Demers. Montreal, 1975, $11.25 CONTE PARLE, CONTE ECRIT, Revue Etudes frangaises. Montreal, 1976, $5.00 DESCRIPTION GRAMMATICALE DU PARLER DE I’lLE-AUX-COUDRES, by Emile Seutin. Montreal, 1975, $15.50 UN DIEU CHASSEUR, by Jean-Yves Soucy. Mon- treal, 1976, $8.75 L’EN DESSOUS L’ADMIRABLE, by Jacques Brault. Montreal, 1975, $3.25 EXPERIENCE RELIGIEUSE ET EXPERIENCE ESTHETIQUE, by Marcelle Brisson. Montreal, 1974, $9.25 L’HOMME RAPAILLE, by Gaston Miron. Montreal, 1970, $4.00 HUBERT AQUIN, AGENT DOUBLE, by Patricia Smart. Montreal, 1973, $4.80 HUGO: AMOUR/CRIME/REVOLUTION, by Andr6 Brochu. Montreal, 1974, $7.85 AN IDEA OF HISTORY, by Americo Castro, ed. and trans, from the Spanish by Stephen Gilman and Edmund L. King. Ohio State, January 5, 1977, $12.50 INFLEXIONS DE VOIX, by Thomas Pavel. Mon- treal, 1976, $9.00 JACQUES FERRON, Revue Etudes francaises. Montreal, 1976, $5.00 JOURNAL DENOUE, by Fernand Ouellette. Mon- treal, 1974, $7.50 LOVE AND LANGUAGE: A STUDY OF THE CLASSICAL FRENCH MORALIST WRITERS, by Louise K. Horowitz. Ohio State, January 25, 1977, $12.50 MALLARME: GRAMMAIRE GENERATIVE DES CONTES INDIENS, by Guy Lafleche. Montreal, 1975, $14.75 MARIE-CLAIRE BLAIS: LE NOIR ET LE TENDRE, by Vincent Nadeau. Montreal, 1974, $4.00 MICHELET’S POETIC VISION: A ROMANTIC PHILOSOPHY OF NATURE, MAN AND WOMAN, by Edward K. Kaplan. Massachusetts, June 1977, $12.50 LE MISSIONNAIRE, L’APOSTAT, LE SORCIER, by Guy Lafleche. Montreal, 1973, $9.75 “PARTI PRIS” LITTERAIRE, by Lise Gauvin. Mon- treal, 1975, $7.50 THE PICARESQUE HERO IN EUROPEAN FIC- TION, by Richard Bjornson. Wisconsin, January 1977, $15.00 ROBERT PINGET: THE NOVEL AS QUEST, by Robert M. Henkels, Jr. Alabama , February 1977, $8.75 ROUSSEAU’S SOCRATIC AEMILIAN MYTHS: A LITERARY COLLATION OF EMILE AND THE SOCIAL CONTRACT, by Madeline B. Ellis. Ohio State, March 1,1977, $15.00 SAINT-DENYS GARNEAU: OEUVRES, by Jacques Brault. Montreal, 1970, $25.00 SAMUEL BECKET ET L’UNIVERS DE LA FICTION, by Fernande Saint-Martin. Montreal, 1976, $11.25 THE SATIRES OF LUDOVICO ARISTO: A RENAISSANCE AUTOBIOGRAPHY, trans, and with an introduction by Peter DeSa Wiggins. Ohio, December 31,1976, $11.00 teniative RECENT AND THE SURREALIST VOICE OF ROBERT DESNOS, by Mary Ann Caws. Massachusetts, May 1977, $12.50 WAITING FOR DEATH: THE PHILOSOPHICAL SIGNIFICANCE OF BECKETT’S EN ATTENDANT GODOT, by Ramona Cormier and Janis L. Pallister. Alabama, January 1977, $8.00 WHAT IS ROMANTICISM?, by Henri Peyre, trans, from the French by Roda P. Roberts. Alabama, March 1977, $9.75 PROBLEMS IN THE LITERARY BIOGRAPHY OF MIKHAIL SHOLOKHOV, by Roy A. Medvedev, trans, by Anthony D. Briggs. Cambridge, March 1977, $17.50 tentative RUSSIAN PHILOSOPHY, VOLUMES I, II, III, ed. by James M. Edie, James P. Scanlan and Mary- Barbara Zeldin, with the collaboration of George L. Kline. Tennessee, December 1976, Volume l-$5.95, Volume 1l-$4.95, Volume 11l-$6.25 SLAVIC AND EAST EUROPEAN LITERATURE AND LITERARY CRITICISM THE BIG HORSE AND OTHER STORIES OF MODERN MACEDONIA, by Milne Holton. Missouri, May 1974, $9.50 CHEKOV: A STUDY OF THE MAJOR STORIES AND PLAYS, by Beverly Hahn. Cambridge, February 1977, $19.95 tentative INSATIABILITY, by Stanislaw Ignacy Witkiewicz, trans, and with an introduction and commentary by Louis Iribarne. Illinois, March 1977, $18.95 OSIP MANDELSTAM: SELECTED ESSAYS, trans, by Sidney Monas. Texas, February 1977, $15.95 PASTERNAK, by Henry Gifford. Cambridge, March 1977, $18.95 OTHER LITERATURES & LITERARY CRITICISM THE CAURASI PAD OF SRI HIT HARIVAMS: IN- TRODUCTION, TRANSLATION, NOTES, AND EDITED HINDI TEXT, by Charles S. J. White. Hawaii, February 1977, $9.50 p. LIFE IN THE TOMB, by Stratis Myrivilis, trans, by Peter Bien. New England, 1977, $13.50 ON MODERN GERMAN LITERATURE, VOLUME IV, by Paul Konrad Kurz, trans, by Sister Mary Frances McCarthy. Alabama, January 1977, $11.50 A RAINBOW FOR THE CHRISTIAN WEST, by Ren6 Depestre, trans, by Joan Dayan. Massachusetts, May 1977, $12.50 STUDIES IN EIGHTEENTH-CENTURY CULTURE, VOLUME SIX, ed. by Ronald C. Rosbottom. Wisconsin, January 1977, $15.95 SUMATRAN CONTRIBUTIONS TO THE DEVELOP- MENT OF INDONESIAN LITERATURE, 1920-1942, by Alberta J. Freidus Hawaii, March 1977, $4.75 p. FORTHCOMING PUBLICATIONS DRAMA, LINGUISTICS THEATRE & CINEMA BEAUTY AND THE BEAST, scenario and dialogs by Jean Cocteau, ed. and annotated by Robert M. Hammond. New York, January 1977, $5.95 p. THE SHAKESPEARE REVOLUTION: CRITICISM AND PERFORMANCE IN THE 20TH CENTURY, by J. L. Styan. Cambridge, March 1977, $18.50 ten- tative THE WALTER SCOTT OPERAS, by Jerome Mit- chell. Alabama, March 1977, $17.50 THE STRUCTURE OF JACALTEC, by Colette Grinevald Craig. Texas, March 1977, $18.95 cl., $9.95 p. HISTORY OF IDEAS STRANGE CONTRARIETIES: PASCAL IN ENG- LAND DURING THE AGE OF REASON, by John C. Barker, McGill-Queen’s, February 1976, $15.00 FOLKLORE ASAILOR’S SONGBAG: AN AMERICAN REBEL IN AN ENGLISH PRISON, 1777-1779, ed. by George G. Carey. Massachusetts, 1976, $8.50 “TOMATOES WERE CHEAPER”: TALES FROM THE 30S, by Charles A. Jellison. Syracuse, June 1977, $10.95 TRAVELLERS’ SONGS FROM ENGLAND AND SCOTLAND, by Ewan MacColl and Peggy Seeger. Tennessee, Spring, 1977, $21.50 REFERENCE & BIBLIOGRAPHY MARIANNE MOORE: A DESCRIPTIVE BIBLIOGRAPHY, by Craig S. Abbott. Pittsburgh, January 1977, $20.00 JOURNALS CONTEMPORARY LITERATURE, ed. by L.S. Dem- bo. Wisconsin, Quarterly, $25.00 a year, inst.; $10.00 a year, indv. LUSO-BRAZILIAN REVIEW, ed. by Lloyd Kasten. Wisconsin, Bi-Annual, $25.00 a year, inst.; $10.00 a year, indv. MONATSHEFTE, ed. by Valters Nollendorfs. Wisconsin, Quarterly, $20.00 a year, inst.; $9.00 a year, indv. PROSPECTS FOR THE 70’S: ENGLISH DEPARTMENTS AND MULTIDISCIPLINARY STUDY Edited by Harry Finestone and Michael F. Shugrue The editors have brought together in one volume this controversial series of papers from the Interdisciplinary Conferences held by the Association of Depart- ments of English. These provocative papers provide a stimulus for the involve- ment of English departments in interdisciplinary work. The English departments, it is suggested, need to flow with the social currents of the academic community. The papers discuss frankly the difficulties surrounding the introduction of inter- disciplinary courses and programs that make special demands on the time and energy of individual faculty members and on limited departmental resources. The papers outline model programs that have been established and they suggest administrative strategies for experimenting with interdisciplinary study. Dis- cussions range from "The American Scholar Reconsidered” to the methodology of "Teaching and Revolution.” The collection argues for a new consciousness in the English departments and a redefining of objectives. Prospects for the 70’s will no doubt stimulate debate among all who read it. December 1973 246 pages $7.50 paper MLA Publications Center 62 Fifth Avenue New York 10011 r Announcing a new journal Journal of Pragmatics An Interdisciplinary Quarterly of Language Studies Editors: JACOB L. MEY, Odense University, and HARTMUT HABERLAND, Roskilde University Center. Review Editor: FERENC KIEFER, Hungarian Academy of Sciences Board of Advisory Editors: J. Allwood, P.B. Andersen, T. Andersen, R. Bartsch, R.M. Blakar, S. Dik, N. Dittmar, G. Drachman, W.U. Dressier, K. Ebert, V. Ehrich, P. Eisenberg, C. Fillmore, D. Franck, T. Givon, K. Gloy, N. Goldman, F. Gregersen, D.G. Hays, M.A.K. Halliday, R. Hasan, G. Hubers, D. Hymes, A. Kasher, G. Lakoff, A. Malikouti-Drachman, C. Montgomery, U. Quasthoff, R. Schank, K. Sornig, T. Suzuki, M.J. White, Y. Wilks, D. Wunderlich. In recent years, linguists and workers in neighboring disciplines have developed an increasing interest in human linguistic activity (as opposed to the description of language systems). This interest has especially focused on the social aspects of the ‘use’ of language (sociolinguistics, language acquisition, teaching of foreign languages, “language in context’’, theory of speech acts as a part of a general theory of social action, etc.) This interest is a clear consequence of the growing insight that every human activity (including linguistic activity) is social in nature. The need for a theory of language use has been manifest for some time. Pragmatics, as a theoretical discipline, has formulated many questions in the area of the theoretical foundations of linguistics, that will help to clarify our understanding and increase our knowledge of language as one of man’s tools for ‘natural’ as well as ‘societal’ interaction. The Journal of Pragmatics is the first journal to aim at creating a theoretical foundation of pragmatic studies of language, and will cover all aspects involved. It will attempt to bridge the gap between the developing fields of socio- linguistics, psycholinguistics, man-machine interaction, applied linguistics, and several other areas. Publication Schedule: 1977: Volume 1 in 4 issues Subscriptions: Institutional subscriptions: US $35.95/Dfl. 90.00 including postage Personal subscriptions: US $ 19.95/Dfl. 50.00 including postage Personal subscriptions must be prepaid. Orders and requests for specimen copies may be sent to Unorth-holland 5381 NHa P.O. BOX 211 AMSTERDAM THE NETHERLANDS ENGLISH: THE PRE-PROFESSIONAL MAJOR Second Edition By Linwood E. Orange This booklet is an excellent counseling guide for undergraduate English majors who might want to—or need to—consider employment in fields other than education. Orange provides documentary evidence that training in English and literature at the college level is invaluable in preparation for futures in four outstanding professional areas: law, medicine, business, and federal service. Sample job descriptions are in- cluded. 1973 32 pages Single copy $1.00 each 10-49 copies .75 each 50 or more copies .50 each MLA Publications Center, 62 Fifth Ave., New York 10011 Please send prepayment jor orders under $10. FRENCH GERMAN ITALIAN SPANISH Newspaper and Periodical Subscriptions EUROPEAN PUBLISHERS REPRESENTATIVES Inc. 11-03 46th Avenue, Long Island City, N.Y. 11101, (212) 937-4606 BRITISH MAGAZINES BRITISH PUBLICATIONS Inc. 11-03 46th Avenue, Long Island City, N.Y. 11101, (212) 937-4606 ITALIAN BOOKS ITALIAN PUBLICATIONS Inc. 11-03 46th Avenue, Long Island City, N.Y. 11101, (212) 937-4606 *Free catalogues available upon request. New Books from St. Martin's INTRODUCTION TO SYSTEMIC LINGUISTICS Volume II: Levels and Links Margaret Berry Whereas Volume I dealt with .structure and system, this volume covers levels of language other than grammar, discussing both the relationships which exist between the categories within grammar and those which lie between grammar and other levels. March 1977 200 pages $12.95, cloth CRITICS ON CARIBBEAN LITERATURE Readings in Literary Criticism Edward Baugh, editor This unique anthology brings together major pieces of criticism on the literature of the English-speaking Caribbean. There is no other study of this kind. The focus is on selections of substantial and compara- tively detailed critical analysis. February 1977 136 pages $13.95, cloth THE ENGLISH TONE OF VOICE Essays in Intonation, Prosody, and Paralanguage David Crystal The essays collected in this important new book represent a major authoritative contribution to the investigation of non-segmental phonology—the study of intonation and associated features of spo- ken language. Published 1976 200 pages, illustrated $16.95, cloth THE DICKENS MYTH Its Genesis and Structure Geoffrey Thurley Dr. Thurley explores Dickens’ development as an artist, arguing that he is supreme among nineteenth-century novelists by virtue of the power and intensity of his imagination and his ability to transmit the real pressures of his time through the symbols of his art. Published 1976 380 pages $16.95, cloth A CRITICAL SURVEY OF SOCIOLINGUISTICS Theory and Application Norbert Dittmar This study offers a comprehensive survey of all as- pects of the field of sociolinguistics. Dittmar discus- ses questions of methods, theory, and application, and examines the implications of sociolinguistic re- search for educational and social policies. February 1977 320 pages $19,95, cloth CULTURE AND THE NIGERIAN NOVEL Oladele Taiwo This is the first book to be devoted wholly to the criticism of Nigerian fiction. The author studies over twenty-six novels in detail, and assesses the attitude of each novelist toward the indigenous culture of his country. Published 1976 256 pages $15.95, cloth OUT OF THE MAELSTROM Psychology and the Modern Novel Keith M. May In this fascinating study Dr. May examines the cross-fertilization between the psychological theories (of, among others, Freud, Jung, and Laing) and the intuitive findings of some of the major Euro- pean and American novelists—among them James, Kafka, Mann, Lawrence, Hemingway, Mailer, and Bellow. June 1977 168 pages $16.95, cloth To order these books, please write to: St. Martin's Press sues «„ The Muses’ Concord Literature, Music, and the Visual Arts in the Baroque Age Roman Jakobson’s Approach to Language Phenomenological Structuralism Shakespeare on Film A Decade of Euphoria Western Literature in Post-Stalin Russia, 1954-64 Imagining A Phenomenological Study By H. James Jensen The author illuminates seventeenth and early eighteenth century English literature by ranging widely through the arts of the Baroque age in England, France, and Italy, taking into account painting, music, and ideas, as well as literature. 320 pages $12.95 By Elmar Holenstein Translated by Catherine and Tarcisius Schelbert A comprehensive treatment of the influential in- terdisciplinary movement associated with the Prague Linguistic Circle, called here phenomen- ological structuralism, which transcends the boundaries of linguistics and even of philosophy to speak to scholars in many disciplines. 256 pages $12.50 By'Jack J. Jorgens A stimulating approach to Shakespeare's plays which considers the aesthetics of rendering them in cinematic form. Discusses Shakespearean films over the past half century, including those by Olivier, Welles, Kurosawa, Polanski, Brook, and Kozintsev. 352 pages $15.00 By Maurice Friedberg This book, an important reference work, discusses the publication, dissemination, censorship, and official reception of the entire corpus of Western writing in post-Stalin Russia, especially in the eventful decade after Stalin's death. 448 pages $17.50 By Edward S. Casey In the first full-length phenomenological study of imagination since 1940, Professor Casey provides a fresh and subtle firsthand account of the lived character of imaginative experience which will interest literary critics and theorists of the arts. 288 pages $12.50 INDIANA UNIVERSITY PRESS TENTH AND MORTON STREETS • BLOOMINGTON, INDIANA 47401 CresYvita cirsci|ex€d |entia laiur ilTc^fTTi IUNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO SPANISH DICTIONARY Spanish/English English/Spanish CARLOS CASTILLO AND OTTO F. BOND Third Edition Revised and Enlarged by D. Lincoln Canfield For this revised and enlarged Third Edition of the most popular Spanish dictionary ever sold, Can- field has made a number of im- provements that will be welcomed by teachers, students, and travelers: • An entirely new list of 1,000 Spanish idiomatic sayings with dialectical variants and English equivalents—with an English index. • More than 1,000 new Spanish en- tries and some 500 new entries in the English-Spanish section. • Syllabification of all entries in both parts. • A new phonetic transcription of Spanish entries. vi, 488pages Cloth $8.95 vi, 488 pages Paper $2.95 THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO PRESS Chicago 60637 STUDENTS GUIDE FOR WRITING COLLEGE PAPERS Third Edition, Revised and Expanded KATE L.TURABIAN The Third edition of Kate L. Tura- bian’s STUDENT’S GUIDE FOR WRITING COLLEGE PAPERS is a revised and expanded version of her highly acclaimed and widely used reference work ... In partic- ular, the sixth chapter, “Some Mat- ters of Style,” has been exten- sively revised, and the list of Reference Works, useful to students, has been recompiled and greatly expanded. Students and teachers will ap- preciate a new system of number- ing each paragraph which facilitates locating any desired item through the Index or cross- references in the text. Designed for high school, junior college, or college students faced with writing their first long, documen- ted paper, it offers step-by-step directions that cover everything from choosing a topic to drafting the final paper. 272 pages Cloth $7.95 272 pages Paper $3.45 CHAUCER Sources and Backgrounds Edited by Robert P. Miller, Queens College, City University of New York. This anthology brings together selections from a large number of writers regarded by Chaucer and his contemporaries as authorities in matters ranging from reading to romantic love, chivalric ideals to antifeminist charges, marriage to human destiny. It provides the modem student of medieval literature with the actual texts and ceremonies which defined conventional medieval beliefs and attitudes concerning subjects which were of special interest to Chaucer. A number of these selections appear in English for the first time. Brief headnotes introduce each author and indicate the particular importance of his text. April 1977 500 pp.; 17 illus. cloth 815.00 paper 87.00 SHAKESPEARE’S ENGLISH KINGS History, Chronicle, and Drama Peter Saccio, Dartmouth College. This rich and informative introduction to the political struggles of medieval English monarchical history acts as a guide to the Richards, Edwards, and Henrys, the Warwicks, Norfolks and Northumber- lands that parade across the page and stage of Shakespeare’s history plays. It will be of great value to scholars, students, serious readers, and playgoers who wish to fully enjoy and understand this important body of Shakespearean drama. Spring 1977 272 pp.; illus. cloth 813.95 paper 82.95 HOW TO READ A FILM The Art, Technology, Language, History, and Theory of Film and Television James Monaco, The New7 School for Social Research. Designed for introductory film courses, this text provides a comprehensive and thorough treatment of the important issues in contemporary film study, from technology and the language of film, to History7 and Criticism. It gives full attention to film theory7 — including discussions on Eisenstein, Bazin, and Semiotics — and shows the interrelationship of film and the older arts, introducing basic concepts in electronic media as well. A complete Glossary of film and media terms and an extensive annotated bibliography are included. April 1977 496 pp.; 170 illus.; 40 line drawings cloth 815.00 paper 86.00 Prices and publication dates are subject to change. OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS 200 Madison Ave., New York, N.Y. 10016 
work_g6dfophsb5divdrzgi4w2osloi	----	PII: 0898-1221(89)90264-2 Computers Math. Applic. Vol. 17, No. 4 - 6 , pp. 837-885, 1989 0097-4943/89 $ 3 . 0 0 + 0 . 0 0 Printed in Great Britain. All rights reserved Copyright © 1989 Pergamon Press pie S Y M M E T R Y A S P E C T S O F B O O K B I N D I N G S M. ROZSONDAI Department o f Manuscripts and Rare Books, Library o f the Hungarian Academy o f Sciences, P.O. Box 7, Budapest, H-1361, Hungary B. R O Z S O m ) A I Structural Chemistry Research Group o f the Hungarian Academy o f Sciences, E6tv6s University, P.O. Box 117, Budapest, H-1431, Hungary Abstract--Geometric and other relations of decorated leather bookbindings are analysed. Symmetry properties o f the ornamentation, the symmetries o f motifs and o f the layout, and some correlations o f symbols and ideas, furthermore the occurrence o f one- and two-dimensional space groups and interlace designs are demonstrated by Romanesque and Gothic bindings, Hungarian, Italian, French and German Renaissance, as well as by Baroque and rococo bindings, and finally, by some pieces o f modern bookbinding art. I N T R O D U C T I O N "Numero pondere et mensura Deus omnia condidit"--"God created everything by number, weight and measure." Isaac Newton dedicated these words (Fig. 1), his "tessera", to a Hungarian student, Ferenc Pfiriz Pfipai Jr, the possessor o f the album held by the Department o f Manuscripts and Rare Books o f the Library o f the Hungarian Academy o f Sciences [1]. The Academy, now embracing all branches o f knowledge from arts and humanities through natural sciences to applied sciences, was Filg. 1. Isaac Newton's autograph in the Library o f the Hungarian Academy o f Sciences. [Shelf-number: T~rt. napl6k, kis 8 ° 6.] Reproduced by permission. The authors are grateful for the kind permission to reproduce material from the holdings o f the Library o f the Hungarian Academy o f Sciences (abbreviated hereafter in figure captions as Bibl. Acad. Budapest; no special mention of the permission will be made). CA~VA 17/,~--X 837 838 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI f o u n d e d in 1825 as a " L e a r n e d Society" to p r o m o t e a b o v e all H u n g a r i a n language an d literature. Thus, in addition to scientific b o o k s and periodicals, the L i b r a r y contains literary m o n u m e n t s and bequests, manuscripts and rare books. M o s t o f o u r examples o f b o o k b i n d i n g decorations will be taken f r o m there. Jan A m o s K o m e n s k ~ (Comenius), the Czech ed u cat o r, w h o f o u n d e d m o d e r n visual teaching by his most r e n o w n e d work, Orbis Sensualium Pictus (The Visible W o r m in Pictures, N u r e m b e r g 1658; L o n d o n 1659) [2], set up the ideal o f pansoph i a, a unified science reflecting the indivisibility o f nature. His b o o k , which he d r a f t e d during his stay (1648-1654) in Sfirospatak, H u n g a r y , is also a realization o f these ideas in teaching Latin and o t h e r foreign languages. It contains a passage on "Bibiliopegus, the B o o k - b i n d e r " , as well as others o n "P ri n t i n g , the Book-sellars Shop, a Book, an d a School". Recalling N e w t o n ' s maxim, one o f the striking manifestations o f measure = r6 p ~ p o v is s y m m e t r y as it appears in nature a n d in m a n ' s work. It m a y also be a bridge, as the present an d a previous special issue o f this j o u r n a l exemplify, between different fields o f artistic an d scientific h u m a n activities. In the following discussion we try to investigate geometric a n d a n a l o g o u s relations t h r o u g h o u t the history o f b o o k b i n d i n g decoration. N o a t t e m p t has been m a d e to give a complete representation o f all periods and styles; the selection o f examples was influenced by o u r personal interest and the accessibility o f material. One o f the conspicuous geometrical relations is symmetry. Point groups an d space g ro u p s will be used here to classify s y m m e t r y properties o f o r n a m e n t s b u t n o knowledge o f the t h e o r y is assumed. A point g r o u p (with the properties o f a m a t h e m a t i c a l g ro u p ) is a set o f s y m m e t r y operations, which leave at least one point o f the object fixed in space. F o r the p l an ar figures to be discussed, the s y m m e t r y o p e r a t i o n s include reflection t h r o u g h a plane (m i rro r plane, m ) a n d r o t a t i o n a b o u t an axis (two-, three-, f o u r - f o l d etc. axis, 2, 3, 4 . . . . or, in o t h e r n o t a t i o n , C2, C3, C4 . . . . ). M i r r o r planes and r o t a t i o n axes are p e r p e n d i c u l a r to the plane o f the figure. C o n v e n t i o n a l n o t a t i o n s o f s y m m e t r y groups indicate the basic s y m m e t r y o p erat i o n s o f the group. In the case o f space groups, additional s y m m e t r y o p e r a t i o n s are translation an d glide reflection, i.e. a reflection c o m b i n e d with a translation. A space g r o u p applies to an infinite lattice o r periodic p at t ern , a n d when we speak o f the one- o r two-dimensional space-group s y m m e t r y o f a decorative p at t ern , we regard it as a section o f an infinite structure. F o r t h at matter, imposing geometrical relations such as congruence, s y m m e t r y or similarity on real objects is m o r e o r less an a p p r o x i m a t i o n . Deviations f r o m exact relations are m o r e a p p a r e n t o n han d i craft p r o d u c t s - - h i s t o r i c a l b o o k b i n d i n g s typically belong to this c a t e g o r y - - a n d the extent o f deviations depends o n several factors such as technique, craftsmanship, tools and material used. Sometimes a deviation can be intentional. Stone, wood, clay tablets, p a r c h m e n t or p a p y r u s scrolls b o r e written records in ancient times before the b o o k in its present f o r m appeared. Its p r e c u r s o r was the diptych, a pair o f ivory tablets or w o o d e n boards, possibly decorated, p r o t e c t i n g the inscription in wax inside. Some folded p a r c h m e n t sheets were then placed, later also fastened, between the p a n e l s - - a n d thus the b o o k was born! All the essential elements t h a t constitute a b o o k t o d a y h ad been b r o u g h t together b y the d aw n o f the Middle Ages. A h a n d w r i t t e n a n d illuminated b o o k was itself a great asset; ivory o r precious metal covers a n d jewels a d d e d to its value and impressiveness [3]. Even in recent centuries jewelled or ivory bindings have been occasionally a p p l i e d to special o r ceremonial books. Yet the b o o k b i n d e r ' s c r a f t s m a n s h i p finds its p r o p e r expression in the p r e p a r a t i o n an d embellish- ment o f leather bookbindings. L e a t h e r h a d been a favourite material fo r covering b o o k s f r o m the early Coptic bindings until the age o f large-scale b o o k p r o d u c t i o n when the c h e a p e r binding materials o f cloth and p a p e r replaced it, at least partially. L e a t h e r bindings were most c o m m o n l y d e c o r a t e d by means o f finishing tools, each having an engraved design on its face and p r o d u c i n g a c o r r e s p o n d i n g blind or gold-tooled impression o n the leather. A pallet or fillet was used to impress a line o r parallel lines, a smaller stamp to have a unit motif. T h e roll, a tool with a brass wheel, with an engraved p a t t e r n o n its circumference, a n d the panel, a larger block o f metal, were in general use f r o m the fifteenth to the nineteenth century. T h e tool itself and its impression are d e n o t e d by the same words, viz. a stamp, a roll, a panel. A simple technique o f r e p r o d u c i n g an impressed m o t i f o r design o f a b o o k b i n d i n g is to p u t a piece o f p a p e r on it and r u b it with various soft lead pencils. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 839 Even after the invention o f printing in the 1450s, when hundreds and hundreds o f identical copies o f an edition were produced, hand bookbinding transformed each copy into a unique entity. The purchaser and user had the b o o k bound in most cases. Bookbinding research, which grew out of bibliophilic interests in the last century, goes into the details o f the "when, where, by whom, for w h o m " etc. o f a b o o k and its binding, and, relying on the exact identification o f tools used for decoration, on owners' notes in the book, on fragmental pages used as auxiliary material in binding, on archival sources etc., has become a complex field o f study. Decorated bookbindings reveal a lot about the books and the culture o f a given age. B O O K B I N D I N G IN THE M I D D L E AGES Some Coptic leather bindings from Egypt have come down to us [4] from the sixth to the eighth centuries but such bindings existed in earlier centuries. In Europe the earliest leather bindings date from the Carolingian age (ninth and tenth centuries). These are followed by the books bound in Romanesque style (twelfth and thirteenth centuries). 139 such bindings are recorded today [5], and they represent a fully developed art o f book decoration. It must be remembered that at the time o f the Romanesque bindings, Gothic art was flourishing and dominating in the architecture o f Europe [6], and the same intellectual trend, Scholasticism, influenced bookbindings and architecture alike. Applied arts--including bookbinding--are in general characterized by a certain delay in relation to fine arts. Romanesque bindings, i.e. their layout (Fig. 2), are related rather to Coptic or Islamic bindings than to those o f the Carolingian and Ottonian ages. The transition from Romanesque to Gothic bindings is, however, quite continuous. Motifs are similar, and even the recutting o f some Romanesque tools, especially palmetto and dragon stamps has been noted [7]. The most frequent Romanesque and Gothic stamps (Fig. 3) represent lily (fleur-de-lis), palmetto, foliation, rosette (four, five and sixpetalous), birds, a pair o f birds, deer, dragon, eagle, double- headed eagle, griffin, the Holy Lamb, mermaid, monkey, pelican (the Christ-symbol), unicorn, and the symbols o f the four Evangelists (Matthew, Mark, Luke and John: angel, lion, ox and eagle). On Romanesque bindings usually there are many stamps, certainly more than on Gothic bindings. Only eight kinds o f stamps (Fig. 5) but altogether more than 600 (!) impressions o f them figure on the upper and lower cover o f the early Gothic leather binding o f a parchment codex from the fourteenth century (Fig. 4). The proper Gothic binding shows a looser layout and a much smaller number o f repetitions o f the stamps. Bilateral symmetry of motifs (Fig. 3) (point group m or Cs) and rotations with mirror planes (point groups 3m, 4mm, 5mm and 6mm or C3v, C4v, Csv and C6~, subscript v for vertical) are common, but pure rotational symmetry (point groups 2, 3, 4, . . . or C2, (?3, Ca . . . . ) is rarely applied. A playful collection o f symmetries appears on a roll (Fig. 6), including point group C3 with Fig. 2. Layout of three Romanesque bindings after [5], Nos 1, 7, 13. 840 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI Fig. 3. Stamps from some Gothic bindings of the Bibl. Acad. Budapest. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 841 Fig. 4. Early Gothic leather binding, upper cover. National Sz6ch6nyi Library, Budapest: Clmae 79. Reproduced by permission. Fig. 5. Stamps on the binding in Fig. 4: pair of birds, doubleheaded eagle, the Holy Lamb, pelican, deer, dog, monkey, bird. Fig. 6. A roll from a Gothic binding made in Augsburg. The motifs have C4v, C4v, C3, C3v, C6v, C4v, C6v, C4v, C5~ and C4v point-group symmetry, respectively. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Rfith 1058. This roll is identical with that in Ref. [8, Plate 171, 6]. 842 M. ROZSOND~ and B. ROZSONDAI Fig. 7. Hatched motifs from Gothic bindings. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Inc. 192, Inc. 668. a three-fold rotation axis. Asymmetric motifs are often confined to a symmetric planar figure like a circle, a lozenge, or a square, and the encircling line is also shown. Hatched motifs (Fig. 7) can be considered to possess colour symmetry, which means a combina- tion o f a geometrical synunetry operation (reflection, rotation, translation etc.) with a simultaneous permutation of colours. The use of hatching to indicate colours in heraldry explains the name "fer azur6" (azured tool) o f the hatched stamps introduced in the sixteenth century on French Renaissance bindings. I J a b c d e f g h i j I n Fig. 8. Some Gothic headed outline stamps (a-k) and two blocks (1, m) derived from them. Bibl. Acad. Budapest. The complemental space between stamps k gives the popular "cloud" pattern [9]. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 843 Fig. 9. Gothic binding from a workshop in Herzogenburg (Ref. [8, Plate 27]). Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Inc. 534, The headed outline or cusped edge stamps (Kopfstempel in German) played an important role in the decoration of leather bindings (Fig. 8). The central field of the upper cover, within the borders, was decorated with curved branches, with a repeated vine-like tooling, especially in the southern parts of Germany (Fig. 9). This pattern became popular in Austria, Bohemia and Hungary, and it is a good example of technical progress as demanded by the increasing book production. In the 1470s a whole curved diamond-shaped compartment (Fig. 9) was circumscribed in twelve steps by impressing eight double-headed cusped edge stamps [Fig. 8(a)] and four stamps with two "heads" on the opposite sides [Fig. 8(b)]. A large number of operations was needed to fill the central panel. To accelerate the working process, a half curved branch was engraved in the tool [Fig. 8.(1)], and the bookbinder obtained a whole curved lozenge in two actions. Soon after the panel with all the details engraved was introduced [Fig. 8(m)]. The half curved branches began a new life on some Renaissance bindings in the early sixteenth century, and they appeared as ogee branches (Fig. 10). 844 M. R o z s o ~ a a n d B. Rozsol, n~^I Fig. 10. Early Renaissance binding with ogee pattern, lower cover, from a secular workshop in Buda [10]. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Inc. 877. The cuir cisel6, i.e. the cut-leather bindings make up a special group o f Gothic bindings [11]. The outline o f the pattern is cut into the dampened leather and is emphasized by punching (stippling) the background by a pointed tool (Fig. 11). This embellishmen t required skilful masters. A similar appearance could be reached more simply by the ingenious use o f the cusped edge stamp. The master had to choose the most suitable stamps to get an indented outline o f an oak leaf (Fig. 12), or he had to think over carefully the proportions and the distances between the headed outline tools (Fig. 13). Thus, he achieved a turnover of foreground and background, and a good appearance of the oak leaf or of a four-leaved fleuron. The impressed curved lines mark the nervure o f the leaf. The upper cover o f Gothic bindings shows a more abundant ornamentation than the lower cover (Fig. 14). One or two borders, marked out by fillets, surround a central field, which is then Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 845 Fig. 1 I. Cut-leather binding, Germany, fifteenth century [11, item 62]. National Szrehrnyi Library, Budapest: Clmae 74. Reproduced by permission. subdivided by oblique straight lines to form a diamond pattern (Fig. 15), or by an arched vine-like network into curvilinear compartments (Fig. 9). While rectangular or rather square, semicircular and quadrant subfields were preferred on Romanesque bindings (see Fig. 2), resembling structures o f Romanesque architecture, perpendicular crossings o f lines were avoided in the central field o f Gothic bindings. The central rectangle is subdivided only by its main diagonals (Fig. 12), or, more often, by additional lines parallel to them (Fig. 16). On the binding in Fig. 15, the short sides o f the rectangle are divided into two sections, the long sides into three sections by intersecting lines, while the main diagonals do not appear in the pattern. Using the latter and, consequently, an equal number o f divisions on the sides o f the rectangle, would have produced too slim diamonds. In all these cases, the original C2v point-group symmetry o f the rectangle, with two mirror planes and a two-fold rotation axis perpendicular to the plane o f the figure, is retained if we disregard the pattern within the subfields. An interesting skewly oriented quasi-diamond tiling is shown in Fig. 13. The minor discrepancy between the two sides o f the rhomboid is emphasized by the alignment o f one and two cusped edge stamps along them, respectively. The symmetries o f a field and o f the motifs which fill it often disagree. A pentamerous rosette can sit in the centre o f a diamond (Fig. 15). The half diamonds along the sides o f the central rectangle contain different motifs. The foliage on the binding in Fig. 14(b) breaks through the rigid frames o f the rectangle and has four-fold rotational symmetry, point group C4. Figure 17 shows a naturally simple arrangement o f alternating drop-shape figures, all pointing downwards in the central field with the antlers in this unnatural orientation, and outgrowing the corner boxes. Adjoining single stamps in the inner border take the shape o f a tracery so characteristic o f Gothic architecture and decorative art. David's six-pointed star (Solomon's seal) in the outer corners encloses a pentapetalous flower. Bearing in mind that a rosette is the Virgin Mary's symbol, is this a hint at her line o f descent? 846 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSOSDAI Fig. 12. German Gothic binding with leaf relief obtained by the headed outline tools in Fig. 8(h-j). Monastery bindery, Aldersbach, Bayern. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Inc. 746. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 847 Fig. 13. Gothic leaf-relief binding. Probably Ingolstadt. National Sz6ch6nyi Library, Budapest: Clmae 223. Reproduced by permission. 848 M. R o z s o ~ A I and B. Rozsom>xl a~ 0~ Z 8 t.. o Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 849 Fig. 15. Monastery binding from Vienna [12]. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Inc. 148. 850 M.R.OZSONDAI and B. ROZ.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'.'K)NDAI Fig. 16. Monastery binding from Weddern near Diilmen [13]. Pelbartus de Themeswar: Pomerium sermonum de sanctis. H. Gran, Hagenau (1520). Bibl. Aead. Budapest: RM III 93. A s y m m e t r y o f ideas a n d persons is represented on a simply decorated lower cover (Fig. 16) by the images o f Christ's suffering in the shields (two hands, two feet, three nails, a heart a n d spear), the names o f Jesus, his m o t h e r M a r y a n d her symbol the rosette beneath, a n d John, the disciple w h o m he loved and who stood with M a r y by his cross, a n d the symbols in the corners and h a l f d i a m o n d s o f the four Evangelists who told the story o f the Passion. A binding decorated with the same tools is kept in the British Library [14]. The edges o f a binding, and sometimes its central field too, are decorated by "frieze" patterns. The seven possible symmetries o f infinitely repeating patterns, the one-dimensional space groups have been nicely illustrated by H u n g a r i a n needlework [15]. Similarly, border patterns from book- bindings are shown in Fig. 18, and classified according to symmetry groups. (See e.g. Ref. [17] for n o t a t i o n and explanation.) Such patterns were produced either by repeated impressions o f single Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 851 Fig. 17. Gothic binding from Ulm [13]. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Rfith F 1065. stamps [as most o f the patterns in Fig. 18 and the " c l o u d " pattern in Fig. 8(k)] or, especially later, on Renaissance bindings, by a roll. The period o f the design, i.e. the shortest distance at which the m o t i f recurs, shows the dimensions, the perimeter o f the roll (Fig. 19), or, rather with geometric ornaments, the same m o t i f is repeatedly engraved in the' periphery, and it is difficult to find o u t the true dimensions o f the tool. The floral curls i n F i g . 18(b) fit roughly in space group lg, while there exist actually at least four variants o f flowers a n d birds, and translation remains the only symmetry operation. While searching for a n d selecting from examples o f space groups o f border designs occurring on bookbindings, one m a y reflect u p o n h o w and w h y symmetries o f o r n a m e n t s were chosen, preferred or neglected. The conventions o f the given style, its stock o f forms a n d motifs seem to be decisive. 852 M. ROZ$ONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI (o) 11 lg (c) 12 (d) ml Fig. 18(a)-(d) Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 853 lm rng ITIm Fig. 18. Border patterns from Gothic ((3) and Renaissance (R) bindings [16], and their one-dimensional space groups. ---, translation vector, - - reflection plane, ---- glide reflection plane, 0 two-fold rotation axis. (a) Monastery bindery Buda (G)-Dominican bindery Vienna (G); (b) both from Augsburg (G); (c) both from Vienna (G); (d) Vienna (G)-Vienna (R); (e) Buda (R)-Venice (R); (f) Florence (R)-Minden, Germany (G); (g) Bamberg (G)--Spanish (R). Bibl. Acad. Budapest. G o t h i c figures o f animals, birds etc. or a hunting scene (Fig. 19), all viewed f r o m the side, present n o s y m m e t r y at all, a n d the simple repetition o f these motifs in a strip leads to space g r o u p 11 [Figs 18(a) and 19]. O t h e r a r r a n g e m e n t s with f u r t h e r s y m m e t r y elements are n o t likely to occur, because it rarely ha ppe ns tha t an o r d i n a r y animal is represented upside down; a nice d r a g o n , however, m a y be an e xc e pti on (Fig. 20)! B o o k b i n d e r s o f the Renaissance, however, rejected such restrictions when they impressed a roll h o r i z o n t a l l y along the edges o f the c o v e r with p o r t r a i t s or m y t h o l o g i c a l a n d allegorical figures. W e have n o t met with a h e a d - t o - h e a d tail-to-tail alignment o f animals m a k i n g up s y m m e t r y g r o u p ml. A t a n y rate, a m i r r o r plane or a glide reflection plane in an a r r a n g e m e n t o f a symme t ri c motifs, when realized by single stamps, would require b o t h " e n a n t i o m e r s ' " ( m i r r o r image copies) o f the tool. Flowers, foliage, vine o r geometrical f or ms offer a wider variety o f symmetries o f either the m o t i f itself or the p a t t e r n it comprises. CAMWA 17/4-6--Y 854 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDA1 Fig. 19. Rolls with hunting scenes on late Gothic bindings from Augsburg (the upper three) and Memmingen (below) [16]. Bibl. Acad. Budapest. • a ' 8 o t , • • : o I • . Fig. 20. Dragon stamps forming a border design, space group 12. Drawing by Eva Kovfics-Rozsondai after Ref. [18]. Masters o f R o m a n e s q u e a n d G o t h i c b o o k b i n d i n g s obviously did n o t speculate a b o u t symmetry, they just applied it intuitively. T h e spirit o f their age, the object o f their artistic e n d e a v o u r , i.e. the b o o k cover, a n d the n a t u r e o f their materials and tools d e t e r m i n e d their work. T h e symmetries o f general layout, pa tt e rns covering fields a n d motifs m a k i n g up patter ns d o n o t necessarily har monize, and thus the resulting c omple t e d e c o r a t i o n m a y have a lower s y m m e t r y t h a n its c o m p o n e n t s , or even n o s y m m e t r y at all. R E N A I S S A N C E B O O K B I N D I N G S While the G o t h i c style is international a n d its general criteria are the same all o v e r E u r o p e , the Renaissance has n a t i o n a l ma rks, a n d these are characteristic o f the c o u n t r y whose " m a k e " the given binding is. T h e b o o k b i n d i n g s to the s outh o f the Alps differ considerably f r o m those o f the T r a n s a l p i n e area. E v e r y o n e w h o is f o n d o f beautiful b o o k s mus t have h e a r d o f the Cor vinus bindings. T h e once f a m o u s library o f the H u n g a r i a n king M atthias Cor vinus (1458-1490) held a b o u t 2000 codices [19]. A p p r o x i m a t e l y o n e - t e n t h o f the stock has survived, scattered t h r o u g h o u t 44 towns in 14 countries. T h e r e are 47 Corvi nus ma nusc ri pt s a nd 3 i n c u n a b u l a t t o d a y in H u n g a r y . S ome o f the b o o k s have their original silk, velvet o r c o l o u r e d gold-tooled leather bindings. T h e u p p e r a n d lower covers o f the d e c o r a t e d leather bindings are identical, a p a r t f r o m the title o r the a u t h o r ' s name, impressed at the t o p o f the lower cover. Italian Renaissance a n d oriental influences are mixed with local decorating t r a d i t i o n o n these typically H u n g a r i a n p r o d u c t s (Fig. 21). T h e floral motifs: rosette, calyx-flower, leaves, peltate, p a l m e t t o s a nd tulips are in general gilded, the cablework is blind, the tBooks printed in the fifteenth century. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 855 ¢D J ¢ N oh 856 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI (cJ) ) ) 0 Fig. 21. Gold-tooled Corvinus bindings. (a) Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek (ONB): Cod. Lat. 1037. (b) National Sz6ch6nyi Library, Budapest: Clmae 422. (c) ONB: Cod. Lat. 1391. Reproduced by permission. (d) Schemes of the central designs after Ref. [20]. punch dotting coloured. Either the royal coat o f arms or Matthias' raven (corvus in Latin, hence his epithet) is placed in the centre. A m o n g the extant copies one c a n n o t find two identically decorated bindings. The overall symmetry is quite simple, C2v, except for some details. An interesting feature o f the large n u m b e r o f emphasized central panels has been noted [20], a leap o f a form into its negative, an interconversion o f figure and its background. All these forms can be imagined as enclosures shaped by surrounding copies o f one and the same m o t i f [Fig. 21 (d)], which by itself also appears as a central piece. The figure/background effect is even more p r o n o u n c e d in the repeated pattern o f Fig. 22, which was obviously inspired by a certain type o f oriental carpet (Fig. 23). Some tools o f the Corvinus bindings, first o f all the flower-cup, were recut and used in other binderies in Buda in the first three decades o f the sixteenth century. In addition, new stamps and rolls were produced (Fig. 24), and a m o n g them the different interlaced k n o t w o r k motifs and the rolls combining palmettos with leaves o f the acanthus became extremely popular. A n u m b e r o f their variants existed [Fig. 25(a)] on H u n g a r i a n Renaissance bindings. The acanthus leaves were a c o m m o n o r n a m e n t a t i o n in Greek architecture in the fifth century B.C. and revived in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries all over Europe [Fig. 25(b), (c)]. The interlace or strapwork also occurs in architecture (Fig. 26). Italian Renaissance bindings are lightly decorated and pleasantly spaced out. A large scale o f k n o t w o r k stamps, arabesque centrepieces, linked arabesque circles as borders are their most prominent stylistic features (Figs 27, 28). Coptic and Islamic motifs as well as Persian elements like the peas-trailer or clasper can be recognized on them (Fig. 29). Different types o f Renaissance bindings developed in France in the sixteenth century. A n u m b e r o f the books b o u n d for Jean Grolier, the bibliophile, were decorated by complicated interlace work (Fig. 30). A n o t h e r trend o f b o o k o r n a m e n t a t i o n , which was connected with the French royal court and h a d remained in practice well into the seventeenth century, created elegant masterpieces by simpler geometrical means. These sem6 bindings (semer = to sow) provide an o p p o r t u n i t y to demonstrate two-dimensional space groups. Only some o f the 17 possible two-dimensional space groups occur on bookbindings. The continuity o f the pattern is broken n o t only by field boundaries but also by variant or extrinsic elements o f decoration, a n d the n u m b e r o f repetitions o f the basic m o t i f or tile is too small to speak o f an "infinitely repeating" pattern. On a sem6 binding, the lattice points, in which the motifs are placed, Fig. 22. Gold-tooled Corvinus binding with repeated pattern. Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek: Cod. Lat. 2271. Reproduced by permission. Fig. 23. Holbein-carpet. Anatolia, sixteenth century. 150 x 220 cm. Museum of Applied Arts, Budapest: Inv. 14785. Reproduced by permission. 858 M. ROZSO~rDAI and B. ROZaONDAI Fig. 24. Hungarian Renaissance binding [21] of the so-called Virginia Codex, a Hungarian linguistic record. Franciscan monastery, Buda, 1510-1522. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: K 40. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 859 (a) Fig. 25.(a) Rolls of palmettos and acanthus leaves from Hungarian Renaissance bindings. (b) Frieze from the Erechtheion, Acropolis, Athens. (c) Pilaster head from king Matthias' palace, Buda. 860 M. ROZSONOA~ and B. RO7_..qONDAI (b) (a) ~ 7 Fig, 26.(a) Knotwork border design composed of single stamps from the Hungarian Renaissance binding: Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Inc. 1018. (b) A five-strand knotwork frieze in the town-hall yard of Trogir, Yugoslavia. (o) (b) Fig. 27. Italian Renaissance bindings, sixteenth century, with different types ofknotwork (a), and arabesque circle border (b). Bibl. Acad. Budapest: K 394, Ant. 195. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 861 Fig. 28. Arabesque centre and corner pieces. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Ant. 899, RM IV F 164. Fig. 29. Gold-tooled Renaissance binding. Venice [22, 23]. National Sz6ch6nyi Library, Budapest: Clmae 313. Reproduced by permission. 862 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI Fig. 30. French Renaissance binding for Jean Grolier [23, Plate 116]. Osterreichische Nationalbibliothek: 73.E.20 (ES 191). Reproduced by permission. form a rectangular (space group pmm, see Ref. [17] for notation) or a diamond tiling (cmm) (Fig. 31). The symmetry o f the pattern is then determined by the symmetry o f the underlying motif and the lattice. The fleur-de-lis motifs in a lozenge-type arrangement (Fig. 32) form a pattern with symmetry cm (Fig. 31). A system o f alternating motifs is a superposition o f two or more lattices (Fig. 33). Although this array has a low geometrical symmetry, it possesses further symmetry elements that include permutations o f the motifs. This is then a case o f colour symmetry, with the motifs representing the different colours. The Gothic diamond tiling (Figs 15 and 16) and the analogous vine-like diaper (Fig. 9) also belong to space group cram (Fig. 31). The binding from the Corvinian Library (Fig. 22) has a higher tetragonal symmetry p4m (Fig. 34) if the details and the layering o f the interlace work are disregarded. A much wider variety o f space groups and colour groups occurs on decorated papers used as b o o k covers or lining [24] or as wallpaper. The symmetry o f an interlace pattern can be studied at different levels. First, we may regard the pattern as a composition o f lines and figures in the plane they decorate, exactly as it appears, disregarding its three-dimensional appearance. The two interlaced square frames in Fig. 35 thus possess only an eight-fold rotation axis but no mirror planes (point group Cs). This figure can also V v p m m c m m c m Fig. 31. Two-dimensional space groups o f the rectangular (pmm) and the lozenge (cram) lattice, and a lozenge-type array (cm) o f motifs with C, point-group symmetry. O and V motifs, - - reflection plane, . . . . glide reflection plane, | two-fold rotation axis. Symmetry aspects o f bookbindings 863 Fig. 32. Sem6 binding, first half o f the seventeenth century, probably from the Netherlands. Museum o f Applied Arts, Budapest: Inv. 51.86. Reproduced by permission. be regarded as an eight-pointed star, with "hidden" parts o f the strips added. N o w it has eight reflection planes in addition to the eight-fold axis (point group Csv). A third way o f looking at the figure is to consider its two or more layers and introduce symmetry operations such as a combination o f reflection with a permutation o f layers. Geometric and such combined symmetry operations make up the layer groups. The double-square m o t i f (Fig. 35) can be regarded as lying in a two-sided plane, or it can simply be characterized as a three-dimensional object o f point-group Fig. 33. Pattern, space group p l , composed o f double letters M and Y, tears and flames on a sem6 binding. Sketch after Ref. [4, Plate 93]. ~s' s Sj % i f .s p4m Fig. 34. Symmetry elements o f the two-dimensional space group p4m. See Fig. 31 for notation, and • four-fold rotation axis. 864 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI Fig. 35. Interlace m o t i f from a Renaissance binding. Venice. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: R M IV F 164. Fig. 36. Italian-type Renaissance binding, middle of the sixteenth century. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: Ant. 833. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 865 Fig. 37. Portraits of Luther a n d M e l a n c h t h o n o n the central panels of upper and lower cover, respectively, of the binding by Thomas Kruger, Wittenberg, 1571 [25]. Novum Testamentum. Interpreted by Th. Beza. H. Stephanus, Genevae (1567). Bibl. Acad. Budapest: 542.338. symmetry Ds, with an eight-fold axis and eight two-fold axes perpendicular to it. Further examples of layered motifs and patterns are shown in Figs 18(c), 27(a), 30, 36 and 54. On bookbindings, a braid of continuous strands or an interlace of loops and strands is often simulated by single stamps [Fig. 26(a)], and imperfections at the linkages may make an exact evaluation of the structure difficult. The four-strand knotwork in Fig. 18(c) (upper) is obtained by two single stamps: one straight, one curved. Note the different slopes of the ascending and descending branches, giving serrated rather than symmetric wave lines. In the countries north of the Alps panels and rolls dominate on Renaissance bookbindings. Both have mainly figural decorations, a portrait or a scene from the Holy Bible etc. The upper and lower covers are almost the same, except for the central panels, which, however, are related conceptually. Thus, if leaders of the Protestant Reformation are shown, Luther is accompanied by Melanchthon (Fig. 37), Calvin by B6ze, and if a "Reformer roll" is used we can nearly always see the following four portraits: Martin Luther, Johann Hus, Erasmus Rotterdamus and Philipp Melanchthon ( = M a r t i - I o h a n - E r a s R-Phi Me: Fig. 38). Personified virtues such as Justitia, Fortuna (Fig. 39), Fides (faith), Spes (hope), Caritas (Christian love), Patientia, Prudentia (prudence and providence), Fortitudo (strength of mind, courage) and Temperantia (moderation) are also favourite figures of the panels and rolls (Fig. 40) on Renaissance bindings of the German type. The counterpart of Justitia is Fortuna, sometimes Lucretia or Judith. The thematic symmetry of the panels on the upper and lower cover exists here, too. A classical element was revived with the Janus-faced Prudence on a leather binding (Fig. 38). The inscription of the panel: "Seek advice from m e - - I who am called Prudentia--if you wish for counsel in your affairs." Janus, the Roman god with two opposite faces looking forward and backward, gives good advice and is considerate and provident like Prudentia on our panel. Janus is the god of all beginnings, and it is advisable to begin everything with consideration and circumspection, i.e. prudence. The virtues as well as the Muses (Fig. 40) and the seven liberal arts (Fig. 41) are as a rule represented in every field of Renaissance art, hence also in book illustrations (Fig. 42) and on bookbindings. Note the analogous depiction of arts and virtues in Fig. 41. If we see the panel of the Judgement of Solomon (1 Kings 3:16-28) on the upper cover then we see another scene from the Old Testament, viz. Samson with the lion a n d - - i n the background--he 866 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI Fig. 38. G e r m a n Renaissance binding with a Reformer roll and a Prudentia panel. Bound by M W (meaning Melchior Wagner, Leipzig?) after 1567 [25]. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: RM IV 427. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 867 Fig. 39. Justitia and Fortuna on the upper and lower cover, respectively, of a German Renaissance binding by H W (meaning Hans Welcker, Nuremberg?) [25]. Daniel Wintzenberger: Warhafftige Geschichte und gedenckwirdiger Hiindel... Dresden (1583). The inscription under Justitia: "Suum cuique juste tribuo" is a saying attributed to the Roman jurist Ulpianus; under the "ambiguous" Fortuna: a variant from Tristia 5.8.15 by Ovid. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: RM IV 428. is taking away the gates o f the city o f G a z a (Judges 14:6; 16:3) (Fig. 43). O r on a n o t h e r binding: T h e m o s t o u t s t a n d i n g he roine in the Old T e s t a m e n t is Judith (the b o o k n a m e d af ter her is one o f the A p o c r y p h a ) , w h o b e h e a d e d Hol ofe rne s, the general o f the Assyrian t r o o p s o f N e b u c h a d n e z z a r , and thus saved Israel f r o m its enemies. Judi th inspired m a n y artists to depict her and her feat in paintings, in sculptures a n d in metal engravings. In topical s y m m e t r y parallel to Judith, we see either Justitia holding a sword a n d a pa ir o f scales o r - - m o r e o f t e n - - J a e l , w h o inflicted something very similar o n a n o t h e r enemy, Sisera (Judges 4:21) (Fig. 44). T h e strongest t e s t i m o n y o f faith is A b r a h a m ' s readiness to offer his only son Isaac (Genesis 22). " N o one is so great as A b r a h a m ! W h o is capable o f u n d e r s t a n d i n g h i m ? " - - a s k s S~ren K i e r k e g a a r d (1813-1855), whose influence is larger t o d a y t h a n it was in his own time, a n d f or w h o m the story o f A b r a h a m was the greatest p a r a d o x o f faith. A n d yet he included a " P a n e g y r i c u p o n A b r a h a m " , " t h e knight o f f a i th", in his b o o k [26]. T h e example o f A b r a h a m ' s faith also fascinated customers w h o had their b o o k s b o u n d in the sixteenth century. On a panel decor ating the u p p e r c o v e r o f a b o o k (Fig. 45) we see A b r a h a m with a sword in one hand, the o t h e r h a n d lying o n the head o f his son, w h o is bending f o r w a r d , a nd below, to the right, is the sacrificial fire in a pot, while in the centre o f the picture, in the b a c k g r o u n d , A b r a h a m is climbing M o u n t M o r i a h with Isaac and, finally, in the u p p e r right corner, is the angel o f the L o r d in the clouds, seizing A b r a h a m ' s sword. T h e inscription reads " A b r a h a m credidit d e o " - - A b r a h a m has believed in G o d . (Present perfect, as it has already been d e m o n s t r a t e d ! ) T h e middle panel o f the lower cover is d e c o r a t e d with the arms o f the D u k e s o f W i i r t t e m b e r g with the initials o f their m o t t o (Fig. 45): V D M I E - - V e r b u m D o m i n i m a n e t in [a]eternum (a va ri a nt o f Psalm 118 = 119: 89). T h e w o r d o f the L o r d remains f o r ever. We think that the panel o f A b r a h a m ' s sacrifice was chosen deliberately to emphasize the m o t t o and the arms, and this is again a case o f c o n c e p t u a l symmetry. Let us r e t u r n to K i e r k e g a a r d ' s vision a nd interpretation. H e sketches f o u r variants o f w h a t had h a p p e n e d and h o w the last act o f this sacrifice was reached [26]. Each o f them is fearful and shocking but what is m o r e a ma z i ng is t h a t he draws a parallel between the deed o f A b r a h a m and the weaning o f a child f r o m its m o t h e r . K i e r k e g a a r d comes to optimistic conclusions only in the cases o f the m o t h e r and child. F a t h e r a nd son, m o t h e r a n d child are presented in analogous s i t u a t i o n s - - a s regards a kind o f s e p a r a t i o n - - a n d in f o u r aspects. Intellectual s y m m e t r y is mostly indirect, hidden symmetry, w h a t is more , the symbolism itself is inherently symmetrical. T h e a u t h o r ' s life reveals a (o) (b) t } i i Fig. 40. Roils with representations o f the virtues (a), and the Muses (b). Bibl. Acad. Budapest: RM IV 177a, RM III F 175b, 542.169, RM III 92. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 869 Fig. 41. The seven arts and the virtues on panels. Inscriptions (above) Grammatica-Dialectica-Redorica [!]-Arithmetica -Musica (two figures~--1574 (digit 4 reversed!)--Geometria-Astronomia; (below) Justicia [!]-Prudencia [!]-Fortitudo-Temperanci [!]-Fides-Spes--Charitas-Paciencia [!] [25]. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: 542.495, Ant. 944. CAMWA 17/4-6~Z 870 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI Fig. 42. The nine Muses on the title page of Strabon: En tibi Strabonis geographicorum commentarios a C. Heresbachio recognitos. Valentenus Curio, Basileae (1523). Fig. 43. The Judgement o f Solomon and Samson with the lion on a binding by Caspar Kraft [25]. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: 542.150. Fig. 44. Judith with Holofernes and Jael with Sisera on a binding. Inscription under Judith from Psalm 144 = 145: 19; under Jael: Judges 5: 31. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: 542.496. Fig. 45. A b r a h a m ' s sacrifice and the coat o f arms o f the Dukes of Wiirttemberg on a'binding. Kurtze auszlegung iiber... Euangelia... in Crobatischer Sprach... (Ed. Primus Truber). Tiibingen (1562). Bibl. Acad. Budapest: R/tth 1772. 872 M. ROT_.~ONDAI and B. ROZSO~DAI ) ! i i i ;} I t i t! : i 2 ' ! i . . . . . . . . :ii Fig. 46. Biblical scenes on German Renaissance rolls. Metropolitan Szab6 Ervin Library, Budapest: Bq 0941/69; Bibl. Acad. Budapest: RM IV F 596, R~th 1069-70. Reproduced by permission. ( o ) Symmetry aspects of bookbindings ( b ) . . . . . . . . 873 Fig. 47. (a) A Justification panel. Pietro Martire Vermigli, In Epistolam S. Pauli Apostoli ad Romanos Commentarii. Perna, Basileae (1568). Bibl. Acad. Budapest: 543.024. (b) The Justification represented on two panels. Jean Calvin: lnstitutio Christianae religionis. Rebulius, G-enevae (1561). Bibl. Acad. Budapest: 542.080. further dimension of the structure. The retold story of Abraham and the parallel cases of mother and child are reflections of Kierkegaard's emotional crisis after his engagement and tragic rupture with Regina, subtle allusions to the waves in his soul of hope and despair, faith and final resignation. The scene of Abraham's sacrifice is often engraved on rolls, too, together with other scenes from the Bible. in general, such a roll consists of four little pictures. The Crucifixion and the Resurrection are represented on all three rolls shown (Fig. 46). These two scenes occur on panels in another connection [27]. The four scenes on the panel in Fig. 47(a) are divided by the tree of life: to the left the Fall (Adam and Eve under the tree o f knowledge of good and evil), underneath Damnation and Moses with the tablets o f stone; this side o f the tree is dead. The fight-hand side of it is in leaf, since this half o f the panel comprises the Crucifixion and the Resurrection. The complex theme and the method o f representation come from the paintings of the Allegory of the Fall and the Redemption or Justification by Lucas Cranach Sr and his workshop [28, 29]. These paintings and other similar ones, e.g. that in the Budapest Museum of Fine Arts (Fig. 48) reflect the idea--the exegesis o f Justification--of the great Reformer Martin Luther and his circle. In the painting in Budapest we can observe Mount Sinai, where the Lord God gave Moses the two tablets of stone, the Fall, the serpent o f brass and Death. In the middle Adam or Everyman is sitting between a Prophet and John the Baptist, both of them pointing to the Crucifix. Mary is kneeling on the top of a mount--opposite Moses--accepting a small child gliding down on golden rays; on the two sides of the Crucifix we see the Holy Lamb and the Bethlehem scene with the Angels, the shepherds, and the Holy Family in the stable; and at last Christ triumphant over Death. All this can hardly be accommodated on one panel [cf. Fig. 47(a)]. The picture of Justification, divided symmetrically into two parts along the tree, occurs commonly on two panels [Fig. 47(b)] on the upper and lower cover of the given leather binding. Sin and Justification, Law and Redemption, Death and Resurrection; grave-stone, skeleton, objects, persons, gestures and ideas are positioned in a wonderful antisymmetry, in other words implying less geometrical rigour, in a counterpoint. Even iffigural representations appear on a Gothic or Renaissance binding, no definite connection to the contents of the book can be recognized. (See the captions to the figures named here.) The book of sermons by Pelbartus de Tbemeswar is decorated by the insignia of the Passion (Fig. 16). The covers of a New Testament which was interpreted by B6ze and printed in Geneva were never- theless embellished by the portraits of Luther and Melanchthon (Fig. 37). It is of course thus, since the book was bound in Wittenberg, the stronghold of the Lutheran Reformation. Similarly, the Lutheran dogma of Justification is represented on Calvin's work [Fig. 47(b)]. Justitia appears on a 874 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROT.~NDAI Fig. 48. Fall and Redemption (Law and Grace). Painting, German master, middle of the sixteenth century [30]. 82 x 59.5 cm. Deposited at the Budapest Museum of Fine Arts. Reproduced by permission. book of historical events (Fig. 39), and Abraham's sacrifice on a collection of Gospel commentaries (Fig. 45). FROM BAROQUE TO MODERN B I N D I N G S Baroque leather bindings catch the eye by their rich gold tooling (Fig. 49). Their characteristic ornamental elements are the elongated leafy spiral, the curl, borrowed from late Renaissance "fanfare" style bindings, voluted C- and S-shaped figures, sprays and floral motifs (Fig. 50). The asymmetrical spirals are skilfully combined to give heart-shaped and other symmetrical constructions, which in turn form the diamond or marquise-shaped central panel and the enchantingly harmonizing corner pieces. These masters must have had therefore a pair of stamps to impress both mirror image forms of the asymmetrical spiral motifs. Two or three borders run along the edges. One of these rolls (Fig. 50) reminds us of an arabesque circle border pattern used 200 years before [Fig. 27(b)]. The brightest period o f Hungarian Baroque bindings in the eighteenth century is associated with the Jesuits in Nagyszombat (today Trnava, Czechoslovakia), who maintained their Academy and Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 875 printing house there (predecessors o f E r t v r s University and the University Press, Budapest). These bindings bear Jesus' monogram, IHS, the Jesuits' sign in the middle o f the upper cover, and correspondingly the letters M A R I A on the lower cover (Fig. 50). There is no remarkable borderline between Baroque and rococo bindings. The frequent occurrence o f shellwork gave the name to the style (rocaille = shell, shellwork in French). The central piece is often omitted, and only the borders o f the cover(s) are decorated (Fig. 51). Books were the essential ornaments o f the splendid library halls o f the Baroque and later periods, and, very often, only the spines o f these books were embellished. A distinct period o f Hungarian binding began in the first half o f the eighteenth century and lasted for about a hundred years. The overwhelming majority o f these popular coloured parchment bindings was produced in the town o f wealthy urbanized peasants, Debrecen (Fig. 52). Their layout follows the interlace outlines o f French Renaissance bindings, and the uncoloured strips surround brightly coloured fields with guilt or coloured fleurons and the curls known from Baroque bindings. The master o f the binding in Fig. 52(a) even turns the flower-pot upside down for the sake o f preserving the symmetry o f the rectangle (C2v). Colouring seems to have been applied instinctively to enhance brilliance but no conscious colour symmetry appears. A curiosity o f b o o k construction, and an example o f a three-dimensional point-group symmetry is the dos-fi-dos binding (Fig. 53). Two, sometimes more books, related by their contents and usage, are bound together "back to back" with one common board and their spines on opposite sides. (a) Fig. 49--continued overleaf 876 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI (b) Fig. 49. Hungarian Baroque bindings, eighlcenth century. (a) Bibl. Acad. Budapest: 542.987. (b) Metro- politan Szab6 Ervin Library, Budapest: Bf 0910/234 (MS). Reproduced by permission. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 877 Fig. 50. Ornamental elements of Baroque bindings. The upper roll is from the binding in Fig. 49(a); the second roll is from the binding in Fig. 27(b). 878 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI . . t 5 O e~ .=. O Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 879 ~ i i ~ i i ¸ ¸ ~ ! i i i i ! i i i i ! ! i ii~i!i~ !i~i ~i~i! i ~i!~ ~ ! ~ i ! ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ , ~ i i i i ~ ! i! ii~iii~iiiiiii~i~i~!ii!i~i~i~!ii!~ilziiiii~!~i ¸~¸ '̧̧ ¸~¸¸¸~ ~ ¸¸¸ ~ , ~ i ~ i i i ~ i i . . . . . . i ̧ ̧ ~ i i i i ~ i - i i o~ o o ° . .o . . L~ o~o t ~ 0 880 M. ROZ,gONDAI and B. ROZ,SONDAI Fig. 53. Hungarian dos-~t-dos binding, eighteenth century. E6tv6s Lorfind University Library, Budapest: RMK I 423a, RMK I 435 I-II. Reproduced by permission. (Another example and references can be found in Ref. [4, item 91].) This structure possesses a two-fold rotation axis parallel to the spines and a reflection plane perpendicular to it (point group C2h). HOW practical this form proves to be for a two-way pocket travel dictionary! In some m o d e m pocket dictionaries the two integrated parts have rather one common spine and no board in the middle between the "running" and the "reversed" pages. The symmetry o f this b o o k is again trivial, point group C2v, with the two-fold axis perpendicular to the spine. It is left to the reader to meditate on combinations o f symmetry operations with an inversion of, say, a Hungarian-Italian dictionary to its Italian-Hungarian counterpart. Some m o d e m artists have created three-dimensional bookbindings [31] that resemble rather a sculpture or space construction, and which have lost their practical purpose o f protecting and decorating a b o o k in use. Though masters o f Baroque and rococo bindings retained much o f the elements o f preceding late Renaissance (curls, arabesque circles, interlace outlines, layout) or even late Gothic bindings [bird- in-vine [32], and of. Fig. 18(b)], they succeeded in creating a new type o f bookbinding decoration, distinguished by its appearance and effect. The wells o f innovative power seem, however, to have been exhausted by the nineteenth century. At the same time when in architecture the different " n e o " styles follow, bookbinders cannot but historicize, and the period is marked by phrases like Etruscan style, Cathedral style, and flourishing species o f neo-Renaissance. It is in such nostalgic works that the technical perfection o f hand bookbinding reaches a level unknown before (Fig. 54). Para- Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 881 Fig. 54. Neo-Renaissance binding by Marius Michel for Gy6rgy Rfith, bibliophile, director of the Museum of Applied Arts, Budapest. End of the nineteenth century. Bibl. Acad. Budapest: R6.th 1044. Fig. 55. Art nouveau binding by Evelyn Underhill, fec. op. 47, 1902, England. Museum of Applied Arts, Budapest: Inv. 6965. Reproduced by permission. 882 M. RO7_.SONDAI and B. ROZSONDA1 Fig. 56. Representation o f the labyrinth on the external wall of the Cathedral in Lucca, Italy. Photograph by and courtesy of Istvfin Orosz, Budapest. Fig. 57. Binding by J. A. Szirmai, 1983-84. Terra-cotta goatskin (Niger), on front cover blind impression by the use o f a linocut. 32 x 25 cm. Cat. No. 45 [35]. Andr6 Gide: Theseus. Otilcina Bodoni, Verona (1949). Photograph by J. A. Szirmai. Reproduced by permission. Fig. 58. Binding by J. A. Szirmai, 1975-77. Dark grey goatskin (oasis), on front cover onlays in black and light grey goatskin. 29 x 20cm. Cat. No. 25 [35]. Julien Green: Adrienne Mesurat. Soci6t6 Les Exemplaires, Paris (1929). Photograph by 3. A. Szirmai. Reproduced by permission. Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 883 Fig. 59. Binding by J. A. Szirmai, 1972. Terra-cotta goatskin (oasis); onlays on front and back cover, partly crumpled, in yellow ochre, dark brown and green. 23.5 x 31.5 cm. Cat. No. 3 [35]. Hans Erni: Israel. Ein Skizzenbuch. Scheidegger, Zurich (1971). Photograph by J. A. Szirmai. Reproduced by permission. doxically, at the same time, b o o k b i n d i n g as a handicraft loses ground and declines with the advent o f machine binding. The turn o f the century is a l a n d m a r k in the art o f bookbinding. The m o d e r n b o o k b i n d e r claims to be an artist who creates a work o f art and n o t simply a decorated product o f handicraft; he or she re-creates the contents o f the book, expresses his or her impression o f the work to be bound. Principles a n d forms, artistic endeavour a n d materials o f m o d e r n fine art are reincarnated in m o d e r n bookbindings. A few examples have been selected here to show how apparently simple structures imply in the most intricate and sophisticated m a n n e r the arsenal o f " s y m m e t r o l o g y " [33]. Elements are consciously composed into a unit, and parts o f the book, upper and lower cover, are often treated as a whole (Fig. 55). The Labyrinth, originally the M i n o a n palace in Crete, has always provided an exciting adventure for the h u m a n mind, a source o f secret, a many-folded symbol, a m o n g others, o f the nether world and, at the same time, o f redemption from death [34]. W h a t it m e a n t for Comenius is concisely expressed in the title o f his work Labyrinth o f the Worm and the Paradise o f the Heart. It was represented in architecture (Fig. 56), arts and literature, as with, for example, the maze in the splendid book, Three Men in a Boat, by J. K. Jerome. Professor Szirmai's bookbinding (Fig. 57) is based on a circular symmetry, which is modified by a pseudo-symmetry o f four-fold rotation and reflection. Similarity is expressed by the set o f concentric circles, and c a t a m o r p h y , the lowest category o f geometrical relationships [33], by the decreasing number o f radial passages a n d dead ends along the inner circles. On a n o t h e r binding by Szirmai (Fig. 58), the double figure is again a brilliant and ingenious superposition o f two-fold rotational symmetry and deviation from it, symmetry and a n t i s y m m e t r y (two-colour symmetry o f the figure on a " n e u t r a l " background), and, above all, the transfiguration o f a p h e n o m e n o n taken from the contents o f the book. We must apologize to the reader for disclosing the keyword: it is schizophrenia. Figure 59 represents symmetry in a broad sense, so to say, a "topological s y m m e t r y " . Design and generalized symmetry extends over f r o n t a n d back cover. P. L. M a r t i n and M. Jeagle use rotations and reflections on their bindings .(Figs 60 and 61) combined with affine transformation, reflection with "blowing u p " (homothetic reflection [33]), and colour transformation. C O N C L U S I O N S T h r o u g h o u t the history o f b o o k b i n d i n g decoration, the rectangular form o f the book cover has been decisive. The general layout o f decorated leather bindings most often conforms to the two 884 M. ROZSONDAI and B. ROZSONDAI Fig. 60. Binding by Pierre Lucien Martin, 1966. Black box-calf, onlays in various shades of gray calf, doublures red peau de su6de. Ren6 Crevel: Feuilles eparses. Original illustrations by Bellmer, Arp, Miro, Ernst. Paris (1965). Fig. 61. Binding -by~Mart~i'n ' Jaegl"e_1973.' Dark biue-6asis goatskin, onlays in white, red and dark red, line tooling in white. Voltaire: Candide. m i r r o r p l a n e s o f t h e rectangle. O n e o r m o r e b o r d e r d e s i g n s a l o n g t h e sides leave a smaller, a g a i n r e c t a n g u l a r ( d e c o r a t e d ) a r e a in t h e m i d d l e . D e t a i l s o f R o m a n e s q u e a n d G o t h i c figures, a n i m a l s , floral m o t i f s , religious s y m b o l s , o r s u b d i v i s i o n o f fields d i s t u r b this s y m m e t r y . T h e o r i e n t a t i o n o f s u c h m o t i f s is i n f l u e n c e d b y the c o n v e n t i o n a l d i r e c t i o n o f view, i.e. the d i s t i n c t i o n b e t w e e n t o p a n d b o t t o m o f t h e b o o k c o v e r . T h e s y m m e t r i e s o f b o r d e r p a t t e r n s d o n o t i n d i c a t e a p r e f e r e n c e o f their o u t e r o r i n n e r edges. A unified g l o b a l c o m p o s i t i o n , the e m p h a s i s o n the c e n t r a l design, h a r m o n i z i n g b o r d e r d e c o r a t i o n a n d c e n t r e a n d c o r n e r pieces, a n d t h e s y m m e t r y o f details begin w i t h R e n a i s s a n c e b i n d i n g s , e i t h e r w i t h g e o m e t r i c o r floral p a t t e r n s o r w i t h p o r t r a i t s a n d scenes. I n t e r l a c e m o t i f s a n d p a t t e r n s b e c o m e a g a i n p o p u l a r . C o l o u r s y m m e t r y o c c u r s o n l y sparsely. B o o k b i n d i n g d e c o r a t i o n in e a c h age r e t a i n s s o m e e l e m e n t s f r o m its p r e v i o u s p e r i o d s a n d f o l l o w s w i t h a c e r t a i n d e l a y t h e m a i n styles o f t h e arts. D e c o r a t i o n r e q u i r e s i m a g i n a t i v e p o w e r a n d skill, a b o v e all in t h e case o f c u t l e a t h e r b i n d i n g s . S o m e nice parallels o f g e o m e t r y a n d s y m b o l s , d e p i c t e d scenes, p e r s o n s a n d ideas c a n be r e c o g n i z e d , nevertheless, t h e r e p r e s e n t a t i o n h a s h a r d l y a n y r e l a t i o n t o t h e c o n t e n t s o f the b o o k . T h e m o d e r n a r t o f b o o k b i n d i n g b r e a k s w i t h t r a d i t i o n . I t t r e a t s o n e o r b o t h b o o k c o v e r s a n d even the c o m p l e t e b o o k as a w h o l e . T h e n e c e s s i t y o f b o r d e r designs is e l i m i n a t e d . S y m m e t r y a n d the d i f f e r e n t k i n d s a n d levels o f g e o m e t r i c r e l a t i o n s a r e c o n s c i o u s l y a p p l i e d o r j u s t a b a n d o n e d . A n a l l u s i o n , a l b e i t indirect, t o t h e m e s s a g e in t h e b o o k is i n t e n d e d . Acknowledgements---Our thanks are due to Professor and Mrs Aladar and l~va Sarbu, Ms l~va Pr6hle and Mr Bob Dent, who read the manuscript and made valuable suggestions to amend its English. We gratefully acknowledge the permission and photographs for illustrations from institutions and persons named in the figure captions. R E F E R E N C E S 1. P. Gergely, P@ai Pgtriz-album a Magyar Tudomdnyos Akadbmia K6nyvtdrdban (The P~pai Pfiriz Album in the Library of the Hungarian Academy of Sciences). Publicationes Bibliothecae Academiae Scientiarum Hungaricae 21, Budapest (1961). 2. J. A. Comenius, Orbis Sensualium Pictus. Facsimile of the third London edn (1672) (Introduction J. Bowen). Sydney University Press, Sydney (1967). 3. F. Steenbock, Der kirchliche Prachteinband im friihen Mittelalter yon den Anfdngen bis zum Beginn der Gotik. Deutscher Verlag fiir Kunstwissenschaft, Berlin (1965). 4. P. Needham, Twelve Centuries o f Bookbindings 400-1600. The Pierpont Morgan Library--OUP, Oxford (1979). 5. F. A. Schmidt-Kfinsemfiller, Die abendla'ndischen romanischen Blindstempeleinbiinde. Hiersemann, Stuttgart (1985). 6. E. Panofsky, Gothic Architecture and Scholasticism. Archabbey Press, Latrobe, Pa. (1956). 7. G.D. Hobson, Further notes on Romanesque bindings. Library 15, 161-211 (1934-35); Some early bindings and binders' tools. Library 19, 202-249 (1938-39). 8. E. Kyriss, Verzierte Gotische Einbginde On alten deutschen Sprachgebiet. Textbandl Tafelband 1-3. Max Hettler, Stuttgart (1951-58). 9. O. Mazal, Gotische Einb/inde mit Kopfstempeldekoration aus der Inkunabelsammlung der Osterreichischen National- bibliothek. Gutenberg Jb 473-481 (1962). 10. 1~. Sz. Koroknay, Magyar reneszansz k6nyvk6tbsek (Hungarian Renaissance Bookbindings). Plate 36. Cahiers d'histoire de l'art 6. Akad6miai Kiad6, Budapest (1973). 11. F. A. Schmidt-Kiinsemfiller, Corpus der gotischen Lederschnitteinbiinde On deutschen Sprachgebiet. Hiersemann, Stuttgart (1980). Symmetry aspects of bookbindings 885 12. M. Rozsondai, Wiener Dominikanereinb/inde in der Bibliothek der Ungarischen Akademie der Wissenschaften. Gutenberg Jb 234-244 (1981). 13. M. Rozsondai, The popularity o f Pelbartus de Themeswar in Europe as demonstrated by bookbindings (in Hungarian). Magy. Ki~nyvszle 100, 300-319 (1984). 14. M. M. Foot, The Henry Davis Gift: A Collection o f Bookbindings. Vol, 2, item 327. The British Library, London (1983). 15. I. Hargittai and Gy. Lengyel, The seven one-dimensional space-group symmetries illustrated by Hungarian folk needlework. J. Chem Educ. 61, 1033-1034 (1984). 16. M. Rozsondai, Historical fine bindings in the Library o f the Hungarian Academy of Sciences and their connection to book history (in Hungarian). Thesis, Budapest (1985). 17. D. Schattschneider, In black and white: how to create perfectly colored symmetric patterns. Comput. Math. Applic. 12B, 673-695 (1986). Reprinted in Symmetry: Unifying Human Understanding (Ed. I. Hargittai). Pergamon Press, Oxford (1986). 18. M. M. Foot-Romme, Influences from the Netherlands on bookbinding in England during the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. Act. Xle Congr. Int. Bibl. pp. 39-64, Bruxelles (1979). 19. Cs. Csapodi, The Corvinian Library: History and Stock. Akad6miai Kiad6, Budapest (1973). 20. 1~. Sz. Koroknay, Oriental influences in Hungarian Renaissance bookbinding (in Hungarian). May. tb'rt. Ertesitb'(1-2), 1-17 (1968). 21. 1~. Sz. Koroknay, Eine ungarische Renaissance-Einbandgruppe vom Anfang des 16. Jahrhunderts. Gutenberg Jb 361-371 (1966). 22. 1. Schunke, Venezianische Renaissanceeinb/inde: Ihre Entwicklung undihre Werkst/itten. Studidibibliographiaedistoria in onore di Tammaro de Marinis. Vol. IV, pp. 123-200, Plate XXV, Verona (1964). 23. O. Mazal, Europfiische Einbandkunst aus Mittelalter und Neuzeit: 270 Einbiinde der Osterreichischen Nationalbibliothek. Plate 99. Akad. Druck- u. Verlagsanstalt, Graz (1970). 24. M. M. Foot, The Olga Hirsch collection of decorated papers. Br. Libr. J. 7 (1), 12-38 (1981). 25. M. Rozsondai, Signierte Renaissance-Einb/inde deutschen Typs aus dem 16. Jahrhundert. Gutenberg Jb 290--339 (1988). 26. S. Kierkegaard, Fear and Trembling... (Translated, introduction and notes by W. Lowrie). Princeton Univ. Press, Princeton, N.J. (1968). 27. K. von Rabenau, Reformation und Humanismus im Spiegel der Wittenberger Bucheinb/inde des 16. Jahrhunderts. Von der Macht der Bilder. Beitrage des C.I.H.A.-Kolloquiums "Kunst und Reformation" (Ed. E. Ullmann) pp. 319-328. Leipzig (1983). 28. Luc~is Cranach d.~., Verdammnis und Erl6sung (1529). Oltempera auf Lindenholz. 80 x 115 cm. Gotha, Museen der Stadt, Schlossmuseum. Inv. 722/676. 29. Lucas Cranach d..~. (Werkstatt), Siindenfall und Erldsung. (Um 1530). Nicht bez. Oltempera auf Holz. 51 x 99cm. Weimar, Kunstsammlungen, Galerie im Schloss. 30. Zs. Urbach, The allegory of the Fall and Redemption (in Hungarian). Diak6nia: Evangdlikus Szemle 5(2), 19-29 (1983). 31. Modern British Bookbinding. Bibliotheca Wittockiana, Bruxelles, Koninklijke Bibliotheek, 's Gravenhage 1985. Exhibition Catalogue. Designer Bookbinders, London (1985). 32. M. M. Foot, The Henry Davis Gift: A Collection o f Bookbindings. Vol. I, 2nd impression, Plate IV.19.A. The British Library, London (1982). 33. E. Makovicky, Symmetrology of art: coloured and generalized symmetries. Comput. Math. Applic. 12B, 949-980 (1986). Reprinted in Symmetry: Unifying Human Understanding (Ed. I. Hargittai). Pergamon Press, Oxford (1986). 34. K. Kerenyi, Labyrinth-Studien. Labyrinthos als Linienreflex einer mythologischen ldee. 2. erweiterte Aufl. Albae Vigiliae 10. Rhein, Ziirich (1950). 35. J. A. Szirmai, Boekbandkunst. Catalogus van boekbanden door J. A. S z i r m a i . . . i n de Universiteitsbibliotheek. Amsterdam (1984). CAMWA 17/4-~-AA 
work_glrpzdim5zf7jdkbzqvtur3m5e	----	33 Introduction Inevitably, the architecture of port-cities is entangled in the social, political, economic, and cultural histories of these places and their wider role in international trade. Histori- cally, the merchants constituted the dominant political elite in port cities and the major architectural projects which they commissioned, whether relating to dock development, the creation of a civic and commercial infrastructure, or the con- struction of domestic residences, enabled them to material- ize their status in prominent urban spaces. The political and cultural frames of reference into which such buildings were inserted also served to provide a way to embed trade and commerce in a clearly defined set of broader civilizational values. as such, architecture was one of the key sites for referencing the cultures of other places, either through the use of historicist styles and discourses which were designed to civilize the working class, or by the deliberate choice of ‘exotic’ motifs. More crucially, port-city architecture offered visual representations of local traditions and achievements, whether in the context of major public architecture, commer- cial buildings, or even residential housing. But port archi- tecture also reflected the social interactions which were cru- cial for knitting together trading networks both within and beyond the city, while the configuration of internal building spaces reveals both implicit and explicit assumptions about the ordering of social relationships and the structuring of class-specific hierarchies more widely. This chapter is designed to address a number of interre- lated issues relating to the structure, function and percep- tion of port-city architecture. How did the trading function of port cities affect the construction of urban space and the proliferation of architectural styles? To what extent did the social practices and values (whether religious or secular) which were crucial for assembling and maintaining trad- ing networks effectively shape the architecture of port cit- ies? Historically, the demographic growth of port cities was generally characterized by a disproportionate dependency on long-distance immigration, often with a markedly varie- gated ethnic structure.1 But how far did ethnic in-migration and the selective consolidation of diasporic networks affect the physical and experiential qualities of port-city architec- ture? From the early nineteenth century onwards, there was a rapid professionalization of architectural practice, but to what extent did practitioners in port cities draw on inter- national symbols and construction techniques or attempt to particularize them in seeking to create a distinctive, local, urban image? and perhaps most challenging of all in terms of a specific research agenda, what can we conclude about the general perception and interpretation of port city archi- tecture beyond the realms of literary writings and profes- sional critiques? In order to address these issues, this chapter will focus on a number of interrelated themes: the signifi- cance of trading empires, whether Venetian or British, in disseminating specific architectural styles in port cities; the impact of trading patterns and commercial relationships on the availability and use of raw materials in building con- struction; the role of architects in reinforcing the language and materialist imagery of imperial authority; the processes of wealth creation through commerce and trade and their legacy in terms of the business centres of port cities and the domestic residences of individual merchants; and the con- figuration of sailortown itself, particularly in relation to the establishment and use of seamen’s homes. But it will also analyse the significance of in-migration and settlement as a contributing factor in configuring the ethnic and cultural identity of port cities. Finally, it will discuss issues relat- ing to the perception of port-city architecture, its symbolic relationship with political and economic actors, and wider issues relating to redevelopment and the need to preserve the legacy of the past in a way which reflects a better under- standing of its social life and significance. In order to take forward this agenda, the paper will draw on a wide range of material, but it will also reflect recent research on Liverpool within the framework of the Mercantile liverpool Project and by architectural historians, cultural anthropologists and sociologists who have begun to explore the social life of its architectural history and the cultural, economic, and political significance of many of its key buildings.2 Establishing a port-city typology at one level, any attempt to analyze port-cities within a comparative context must recognize that functional differ- ences between various types of ports became more apparent over time. Some ports benefited from their multi-functional- ity, such as the capital cities of Buenos aires, Copenhagen, London, Montevideo, and Stockholm; naval ports (including Kiel, Portsmouth and Toulon) had a negligible amount of commercial traffic; the development of Bremen and Ham- burg, together with Singapore (following full independence in 1965) was influenced by their distinct political frame- work as city-states, while entrepôt, ferry and free ports have increasingly fulfilled a more specialized function. To this extent, a comparative analysis of port city architecture must take into consideration not only a range of economic crite- ria, including port function, relative size, principal trades, robert lee The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 34 and the extent of local industrialization, but also the politi- cal framework of long-run development in terms of differ- ent forms of governance, ownership and administration, as well as specific locational factors relating to the quality of both the land and water site, which undoubtedly played a key role in underpinning the success of individual port-cities and influenced both the form and nature of urban building construction, whether in the case of Genoa, new york or rotterdam.3 Irrespective of site-specific differences the process of urban expansion (or decline) has been strongly influenced by the changing pattern of world trade: maritime commerce has been a powerful factor behind urbanization and ports, after capital cities, have often registered the highest rates of population growth. Because of their maritime nexus, the architectural development of port cities has been influenced, to varying degrees, by links with foreign lands, the chang- ing nature of international trade, and by the in-migration and settlement of diverse ethnic communities.4 Despite their functional diversity, the urban structure of port cities par- ticularly in the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries has also been influenced by a number of generic socio-economic factors. The nature of their local economies was associated with a high dependency on casual employment, a mark- edly unequal distribution of wealth, and a range of adverse social conditions. long-distance in-migration, a pronounced degree of ethnic and class-specific residential segregation, together with the ideology of merchant capital, also directly affected the cultural identity of port-city architecture in a context where both public and private buildings were con- figure by power and the ‘resource of power’.5 Trading Empires and the Architecture of Port Cities Trading empires with port cities as their focal points have often used architecture to reinforce authority or to symbolize their power. In line with the Lacanian theory of significa- tion, the design of specific buildings has therefore reflected the perceived historical relationship between architecture, culture and imperial power.6 But the ways in which trad- ing empires have sought to use architecture as a means of sustaining world domination have varied considerably, both in the colonial territories themselves, as well as in the met- ropolitan and port-city centres of commercial power. a great deal has been written about the architectural history of Ven- ice, the important legacy of ‘Veneto-Byzantine’ houses and palaces, and the development of Venetian Gothic.7 But the Venetian Republic can serve as an instructive example of how trading empires contributed to the transfer and assimi- lation of architectural styles based on a significant degree of artistic and intellectual reciprocity.8 The development of the Piazza San Marco undoubtedly reflected contemporary inspirations from eastern architectural practice, in particular the profusion of mosaics represented a thematic borrowing from the Great Mosque in Damascus; the outer cupolas of the palace itself were an adaptation of the well-known pro- files of Islamic mausolea in Egypt; while the campanile of San Pietro di Castello was modeled on the Pharos lighthouse of Alexandria.9 The design of many of the palazzi, with semicircular arches opening on to the canal and extended second-storey loggias (Fig. 1), as well as some of the ware- houses, demonstrated clear similarities with the domestic architecture of Byzantium, whether in Constantinople or elsewhere (Fig. 2).10 The mercantile prosperity of Venice was dependent on the exploitation of trading opportunities in the adriatic, the eastern Mediterranean, and the Middle East, within the framework of a dynamic, if at times problemati- cal, relationship with Islam. But spatial consciousness, like a sense of its historic past, was a crucial ingredient in structur- ing the republic’s self-identity and the assimilation of key elements of eastern architectural practice helped to convey its collective aspirations, both materially and spiritually.11 Moreover, there was an important degree of reciprocity in terms of architectural styles between Venice and its overseas colonies with cultural forms exchanged and transferred from and to the metropolitan centre, as the case of Crete and the influence of its Byzantine architectural heritage on the Vene- tian townscape clearly illustrates.12 But not all trading empires were characterized by exten- sive reciprocity in terms of artistic and intellectual cross- fertilization, the dissemination of architectural styles, or the social structuring of the urban landscape of port cities. If the architecture of Trieste before 1914 reflected the ‘language Figure 1: Venice, Ca’Loredan or Ca’ Farsetti Figure 2: Istanbul, Tekfur Sarayi The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 35 of hybridity’ which underpinned the multilingual character of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, the extension of Italian control in East africa in the interwar period, particularly in coastal towns, was associated with the emergence of the imperial apartheid city, reflecting the fascist belief that Afri- cans were ‘a-historical’ and incapable of modernization.13 Both the British in India and the French in Indo-China sought to retain effective control of the semantic context of the styles in which they built. Imperial authority was created and reinforced by the explicit use of classical prototypes, as the example of the Town Hall in Calcutta (1807–13) clearly illustrates, while many of the early anglican churches sim- ply used the same prototype derived from james Gibbs’s St. Martins-in-the Fields, as was the case with St. john’s, Calcutta, erected between 1788 and 1787.14 Moreover, the Gothic revival in England, associated in particular with A. W. n. Pugin, with an implicit belief that it represented a product of a visibly purer society, also influenced colonial building styles in India, particularly in the port cities of Calcutta and Madras.15 But both public and domestic architectural styles imposed by the colonial power had to be adapted to the exi- gencies of the Indian climate, in particular the intense heat and blazing light. In the longer term, however, the dominant architectural forms imposed by the British colonial authori- ties were modified by the assimilation of traditional Indian practices and the use of elements of western architectural vocabularies to create essentially hybrid products. But the narrative of adaptive strategies also reflected the changing policies of colonial rule, particularly after the Indian Mutiny of 1857, and the creation of pseudo-Indian (or Indo-Sarace- nic) architectural styles with their explicit borrowings from the Islamic architecture of India’s previous Mughal and afghan rulers can be interpreted as a means of strengthening imperial control by incorporating a visible element of con- tinuity with the Indian past.16 Indeed, this process was also reinforced by the British Orientalist movement which con- tributed substantially to the Hindu architectural renaissance, as well as by ethnographic research which increasingly posited a direct relationship between architectural styles and race.17 It is important to note, however, that the flow of architectural forms from the imperial metropolitan centre to India was not reciprocated by any perceptible influence of Indian practices on British design. The relatively brief vogue for the ‘Hindoo style’ was influenced by the landscape paint- ers Thomas Daniell (1749 –1840) and his nephew, William Daniell (1769–1837), with the belief that Indian architecture ‘presents an endless variety of forms’ and it was reinforced in the late-eighteenth century by travel writers, such as Wil- liam Hodges, but apart from a few select buildings (includ- ing the Pavilion at Brighton), its overall impact on Britain and its port cities was either marginal or non-existent. Trade and the flow of building materials and architectural ideas However, the presence of a colonial power was only one factor which influenced the configuration of port-city archi- tecture, as the pattern of international trade by itself often served as a mechanism for facilitating the flow of build- ing materials and architectural designs across oceans and continents. A number of examples will be used to illustrate the impact of trade flows on the configuration of port-city architecture. First, the coastal areas of the red Sea provide evidence of a sustained cross-cultural continuity in terms of the use of building materials, as well as the spatial organi- zation and functional use of port-city buildings.18 Maritime trade, with a significant degree of involvement by Indian merchants and Baniyan brokers (both Hindu and jain), tied the red Sea to both the Mediterranean and Indian Ocean.19 In ports such as Mocha and jidda both the design and struc- ture of urban housing reflected the needs of ‘commercially oriented residents’ and the availability of building materi- als made available through established trading patterns. The rawshan, the elaborate carved woodwork which was a feature of housing in many red Sea ports played a ‘criti- cal role’ in defining an early modern cosmopolitan maritime community’, but it was made from asian hardwood which was imported from abroad, from ports such as Cochin, as a convenient and profitable ballast for Indian Ocean-going vessels.20 Secondly, in coastal areas of Ghana ( previously the Gold Coast), elite residential architecture between the 1860s and 1920s sought to combine elements of the Akan court- yard house with European Palladian architecture and the afro-Portuguese sobrado.21 In ports such as anomabo the hybridity of domestic architecture was a source of cultural authentication and demonstrates how the Fante and other coastal africans succeeded in appropriating and trans- forming building designs and technologies which enabled them to communicate visually their status and identity. But if some elements of architectural design were derived indirectly from the British colonial authorities and the Methodist Church, the availability of suitable stones for house construction was a result of existing patterns of trade, while the adoption of the sobrado reflected the importance of trade links with Brazil and the employment of Brazilian masons.22 Thirdly, international trade often acted as a conduit for the dissemination of innovative architectural practices and the application of new technology. as a key element in the redevelopment of liverpool’s waterfront in the early years of the twentieth century, the construction of the liver Build- ing (commissioned by the royal liver Friendly Society and designed by a local architect, aubrey Thomas) represented a significant break with traditional design principles which had previously influenced the development of commercial buildings in liverpool (Fig. 3).23 When completed in 1911 it was the tallest office building in Britain with an extensive basement area, ten upper floors and six further stories located in the twin towers above the roof level. More importantly, it signified the application of new building techniques, in particular a system patented by François Hennebique using reinforced concrete as a skeletal framework on which was hung grey granite cladding in thin blocks.24 as such, it reflected key structural developments in America between 1885 and 1895 which fostered the greater efficiency, height and stability of multi-storey buildings, namely the replace- ment of cast iron by steel, the introduction of sway-rod wind bracing, and the development of portal framing.25 The fact The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 36 that Liverpool was the first British city to emulate Ameri- can architectural achievements was almost certainly a result of the interconnectivity of trade and commercial links. The atlantic trade had underpinned liverpool’s rise to inter- national prominence: in 1850 American cotton accounted for 67 per cent of Britain’s imports and Liverpool was ‘the chief emporium for cotton in the Empire’.26 The majority of emigrants who passed through liverpool in the period prior to 1914 were bound for North America and banking, com- mercial and trading links between liverpool and east coast american ports were not only long established but particu- larly intense.27 Many liverpool businessmen and ship own- ers had a fascination with american technology and there were strong trading links with Chicago and new york in particular where the development of skyscrapers around the turn of the century was most apparent.28 Fourthly, commercial and trading links played an impor- tant role in the internationalization of architectural practice. In terms of cultural production, it has been argued that archi- tects increasingly operated as ‘mediators’ between authori- tarian power and humanistic aspiration, but their ability to fulfil this function was a result of the professionalization of architectural practice from the mid-nineteenth century onwards.29 The key elements behind professionalization were similar to those of other professions: they included the creation of institutional structures, including associations, the control of licensing laws, the establishment of schools, and the exclusion of competitors, in particular general build- ers.30 It was predicated on the development and dissemina- tion of specialist journals, including The Builder (first printed in 1842), which became the most influential weekly journal devoted to the world of building, and national publications such as The American Architect, The Architectural Record, and The Inland Architect.31 It was also reinforced by archi- tectural competitions which increasingly attracted interna- tional submissions: in nineteenth-century Britain there were over 780 separate competitions, many of which were held in port cities such as Liverpool (42), Newcastle-upon-Tyne (32), Bristol (25), Hull (24), Sunderland (23) and Glasgow (20).32 The professionalization of architectural practice also facilitated the dissemination of best practice within the framework of a rapidly changing discourse, particularly in terms of the need to establish larger partnerships, to improve office procedures, and to design more cost-effective build- ings.33 The inter-connectedness of commerce and trade was replicated by the international links of architects practic- ing in major port cities and other metropolitan centres. For example, Charles Herbert Reilly from the Liverpool School of Architecture (1904 –1933) was able to utilize his contacts in the USA to place students for office practice on a regular basis, largely in new york, at least until the onset of the interwar depression.34 Moreover, the establishment of archi- tectural schools in universities, whether in Britain, France or Italy, also reinforced the transfer of design concepts and architectural styles within a framework of cultural imperial- ism. again, the case of the liverpool School of architec- ture is instructive in this context: Liverpool graduates took up official positions as government architects in Egypt and Iraq; they also undertook commissions in Baghdad, Cairo and Zanzibar, in some cases combining European Modern- ism with local architectural traditions.35 But the School also accepted between five and six overseas students each year and played an important role in training native-born archi- tects and in exporting the Liverpool system of training to both Egypt and Thailand. But the existence of extensive trading links and busi- ness connections did not necessarily imply a rapid adop- tion of new building styles in individual port cities or the implicit rejection of traditional architectural practices. Despite the fact that Hamburg improved its comparative ranking amongst European ports from fifth in 1879 to sec- ond by 1900 and its shipping companies had extended sig- nificantly their world-wide links, the early twentieth century witnessed a reassertion of traditional construction methods for commercial buildings.36 From the early 1900s onwards, the ‘common ordinary brick’ had become associated with a range of political, social and even spiritual qualities by a number of architects and writers: modernism was increas- ingly criticized for its disregard of place and location; and, according to Paul Bröcker in the city’s planning department, ‘the brick skin of an office block should tell us; this is a Hamburg building’.37 The ten-story Chilehaus, completed in 1924, was symptomatic of a deliberate attempt to provide a local synthesis of modernism and tradition, with the use of 4.8 million bricks representing an explicit symbol of continu- ity with earlier traditions of office construction.38 It could of course be argued that the reaffirmation of a traditional brick culture in Hamburg after 1918 reflected a wider sense of middle-class disillusionment with american-inspired mod- Figure 3: The Liver Building, Liverpool The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 37 ernism resulting from Germany’s defeat in the First World War which resulted in the need to revive local (or regional) architectural styles, but it also suggests that embeddedness in international trading networks was not a necessary pre- condition in major port cities for the direct assimilation of new building concepts and techniques.39 In-migration and the structuring of the port-city townscape As a result of their seaborne links, a significant proportion of port-city in-migrants were of non-national or overseas ori- gins, given that the final destination was often a function of information disseminated through existing communication networks. Because of their international connections, port cities attracted human capital from relatively distant regions; they were focal points for the circulation of peoples, goods and information; and there was a high degree of continu- ity in the maintenance of family trading networks and dia- sporic memory.40 For example, Genoa housed migrants from all over the Mediterranean; Trieste accommodated different Armenian, Greek, Jewish and Serbian ‘nations’; and a com- plex mix of French, Italians, Greeks, Albanians, Bulgarians and Germans exercised a powerful influence in shaping the character of Odessa.41 Whether in the case of Baniyan brokers and money- changers in the red Sea port of Mocha or Tatar merchants in the river port of Kazan, in-migrants often influenced the design and spatial configuration of residential buildings.42 In other cases, in-migrant communities were responsible for the construction in port cities of communal buildings, including churches, which helped to reinforce their sense of national identity and separateness. In Sweden, for example, the German parish in Gothenburg was founded in 1623 only two years after the city’s establishment and its church (the Christinenkirche) was consecrated in 1648 as a focal point for in-migrant Protestants from Germany, Holland and Scot- land (Fig. 4). But it was not until 1855 that the foundation stone for St andrew’s, a separate church for the increasingly influential English (Scottish) community, was finally laid by robert Dickson a ‘Merchant and Senior of the British Fac- tory of Gothenburg’.43 In the case of the mission churches established overseas by the Swedish Patriotic Evangelical Society from the early 1860s onwards the intention was to seize every opportunity to proclaim God’s word amongst Scandinavian sailors in foreign ports and to offer a wel- coming, but clearly recognizable, environment with a range of local newspapers, traditional refreshments, and, when necessary, welfare support.44 Where new mission churches were built in major port cities, such as liverpool and Ham- burg, they invariably incorporated Swedish or Scandinavian design elements.45 In liverpool, in particular, the church designed by W. D. Caröe (1883 –1884) incorporated many distinct, Scandinavian features, including stepped gables and a concave-sided, lead-covered spire over the entrance (Fig. 5). It is often argued that architecture, in a reflexive way, can express ‘contested and ambiguous national iden- tities’.46 For Scandinavians nationality itself became an increasingly important issue in the course of the nineteenth Figure 4: The Christinekirche, Gothenburg (1648) Figure 5: Gustaf Adolfs Kyrka, Liverpool (1883–84) The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 38 century, whether within the framework of the personal union between Sweden and norway, or within Finland where there is evidence of a united attempt to avoid the assimilation of Finnish culture by russian laws and customs. But although the Seamen’s Church in liverpool catered for all Scandi- navians, the local vicars became increasingly involved in defining or determining nationality entitlement, while its overall design (Fig. 6) served to reinforce a sense of ‘sep- arateness’ and distinctiveness from the indigenous local community.47 Similarly in Hamburg (Fig. 7), the Swedish Seamen’s Church with its network of related associations (including the Swedish School and lecture Societies, the Swedish ladies Club, and the Swedish Club, established in 1906) not only served the common interests of Swedish residents but sought directly to ‘preserve’ the national lan- guage.48 By the early twentieth century the church authorities and mission societies of many European countries, including Britain, Denmark, Germany and Sweden, had established a dense network of overseas churches in individual port cities, reflecting the needs of in-migrant national commu- nities, transient seafarers and emigrants. In Buenos aires, for example, an Anglican Church (St. John’s Cathedral) was established after the Treaty of 1825, the foundation stone of the Presbyterian Church was laid in 1833, and a sepa- rate Protestant Church, with English, Scots, american and German merchants as its principal supporters, was opened in 1862.49 Frequently, church buildings associated with specific in-migrant groups reflected their continued sense of nationality and the architectural legacy of their coun- tries of origin. This was certainly the case with the Greek Orthodox Church of St. Nicholas in Liverpool (executed by Henry Sumners following a competition won by W & j Hay in 1864) which represented a smaller-scale version of the Church of St. Theodore in Constantinople (Fig. 8).50 But the wider cultural and social significance of in-migrant church architecture was absent in some port cities because proper- ties were either rented or taken over from other denomina- tions. The church maintained by the Congregación Sueca in Buenos Aires in the early 1930s, although it attracted over 9,000 visitors annually to its reading room left ‘something of a provisional impression’, just as the premises used for the Swedish Seamen’s Church in Bremen in the period after the Second World War had simply been rented on a provi- sional basis.51 Similarly, despite the relative importance and commercial status of many German in-migrant merchants in liverpool in the nineteenth century, the congregation of the Deutsche Evangelische Kirche (established in 1846) initially worshipped in anglican premises, subsequently purchased the Newington Chapel in Renshaw Street, and finally occu- pied the Presbyterian Church in Canning Street.52 although the church, with its extended institutional and welfare net- work, undoubtedly functioned as a focal point which helped to sustain a sense of Germanness, its visual presence was never made explicit and the difficulty of reinforcing a sense of German separateness without upsetting the local popula- tion was highlighted in 1877 when members of the congre- gation on their summer outing to new Ferry felt it necessary to carry both German and English flags.53 Two points need to be emphasized. First, the architectural legacy in port cities of in-migrant communities, whether in relation to church, commercial or residential buildings, was essentially a result of trade patterns and the role of over- seas commercial networks: it was not dependent on the extension of colonial power. Secondly, ethnicity became an increasingly dominant factor in constructing the inter- national division of labour from the late-nineteenth century onwards, with the result that larger commercial port cities, such as Hamburg, liverpool, Marseille, Portland, rotter- dam, witnessed the settlement of increasing numbers of in- Figure 6: The Scandinavian Church, Liverpool: advertising card from the mid-1890s Figure 7: Gustaf-Adolfskirche, Hamburg (1906 – 07) The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 39 migrants from China, West africa, the Middle East and the Philippines.54 These communities were often characterized by spatial concentration; they attracted considerable atten- tion from the indigenous population; and China Town (as a concept) was generally viewed as an ‘exotic’ place with a close association with drugs, gambling and prostitution.55 But although these communities had a perceptible impact on the external appearance of their immediate environment, their initial influence on port-city architecture was marginal and it is only with the passage of time that ethnically distinct features have been developed.56 Architecture, Commercial Practices and the Profits of Port City Trade: the case of Liverpool Port cities, in general, were dominated not only by com- merce and trade, but also by the ideology of merchant capi- tal.57 The townscape structure (including the docks and ware- house, the commercial centre and residential areas) as well as the social life of individual buildings often reflected the interplay between these two factors.58 In order to explore the extent to which the underlying economic and social profile of port cities affected the relationship between architecture, culture and daily life, the social significance of three specific types of buildings from liverpool in the late-nineteenth and early-twentieth century will be assessed as representative of distinct port-city typologies which provide a basis for under- standing the historic organization of urban commercial sec- tors in the modern period. Both in a Byzantine and Venetian context, public struc- tures were provided for the facilitation of trade and for guaranteeing a certain degree of transparency over com- mercial transactions. Despite liverpool’s rapid develop- ment during the second half of the eighteenth century, to a great extent directly connected with the slave trade, many of its merchants still preferred to do business in the open street as the earlier Exchange was no longer adequate for coping with the increased volume of business transactions.59 at the beginning of the nineteenth century, however, a deci- sion was made to clear away some remaining houses north of the Town Hall and to create commercial buildings which would harmonize with its neo-classical style. Significantly, the venture was taken forward by a share-holding company (valued at £ 80,000) which was over-subscribed within three hours. The three-sided structure of The Exchange enclosed an open area (‘a noble neoclassical quadrangle’) for con- ducting business and consisted of a news-room, counting houses and extensive warehousing facilities. It offered ‘dig- nity and repose’ and it was generally agreed that the com- bination of commercial and municipal buildings has ‘never been surpassed’.60 But the facilities offered by the new Exchange, completed in 1808, failed to keep pace with the growing commercial needs of liverpool’s merchants and it was replaced in the mid-1860s by a more substantial build- ing in the Flemish (or French) renaissance style, designed by T. M. Wyatt, with ‘numerous storeys and offices’: even if it was ‘not especially adapted for architectural effect’, its news-room was deemed to be ‘a noble apartment’.61 later photographs (Fig. 9), including one by Francis Frith from 1893, provide a clearer indication of the social life of the Exchange and reflects its wider importance in the structuring of commercial relations within the city.62 Commerce and long-distance overseas trade in nineteenth- century liverpool (as elsewhere) were invariably associ- ated with a high degree of risk and uncertainty. as a major port city, liverpool attracted a large number of individuals determined to make a fortune as quickly as possible, either as agents, brokers, merchants or ship-owners. In the late nineteenth century over 50 per cent of the subscribers to the Exchange had not been members a decade earlier and it has been estimated that over three-quarters of them would encounter difficulties in meeting their liabilities at some point in time.63 Indeed, the risk of failure was ever present. Of all the business partnerships registered in 1852, approxi- mately 60 per cent had either been dissolved or had ceased trading by 1863 and 83 per cent of the sole traders operat- ing within Liverpool’s merchant community in 1873 were never heard of again.64 But business uncertainty and transac- tion costs could be reduced (although never eliminated) by the creation of a common business culture which reflected shared attitudes, aspirations and goodwill. not only did the establishment and maintenance of personal relations offer a tangible solution to the persistent problems of agency and asymmetrical information, but networks were often of criti- cal importance in determining commercial survival at a time when the business environment, as a whole, continued to be characterized by ‘low trust and morality’.65 Within such a context, entrepreneurial networks embedded within an increasingly cohesive cultural framework helped to mini- mize market imperfections by coordinating valuable infor- mation and by strengthening trust and reputation. It is within this context that the social life of the Liverpool Exchange needs to be understood. Trading on Change, as it was known, brought together many of the key operators within the local business community within a carefully regulated framework: it promoted physical proximity and personal interaction; while the dress code required for ‘trading on the Figure 8: The Greek Orthodox Church in Liverpool (1870) The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 40 flags’ helped to reinforce reputation and trust. Indeed, Queen Victoria on a visit to Liverpool in 1851 observed that she had ‘never seen so many well-dressed gentlemen together’, as had been the case on the Exchange. But external appearances were also important in defin- ing and profiling the trustworthiness of individual compa- nies. By the end of the nineteenth century, Cunard, with its government mail contract and its fleet of large, passenger- carrying steamers, was undoubtedly Liverpool’s flagship shipping company.66 The Company had also outgrown its previous offices and therefore utilized the opportunity cre- ated by the development of the waterfront site (following the closure and infilling of George’s Dock) to develop a new headquarters designed by the liverpool practice of Willinck and Thicknesse in conjunction with the anglo-French archi- tectural practice of Mewès & Davis in a style which repre- sented a mixture of Italian Renaissance and Greek Revival influences.67 The original architectural competition was intended to produce a design which would harmonize with the new offices of the Mersey Docks and Harbour Com- pany, but neither the winning submission nor the final build- ing completed in 1916 ever fulfilled that purpose. Instead, the six-storey structure constructed by Holland, Hannen & Cubitts using a reinforced concrete frame clad in Portland stone sought to provide an impression of resilience, rugged strength and solidity, with public spaces, in particular the Figure 9: The Exchange, Liverpool (1864– 67) Figure 10: The Cunard Building, Liverpool (1916) The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 41 first-class passenger lounge on the first floor, deliberately used to evoke the character of great Cunard ships (Fig. 10).68 Indeed, the commercial success of the firm had been built on ‘convenience and comfort’, rather than gratuitous luxury or unproven technology.69 Unlike many of its rivals, it had avoided the extremes of extravagance and parsimony; it had rejected any improvements which had not been sat- isfactorily tested; and it had prioritized the construction of strong, reliable and well-manned ships.70 To this extent, the new Cunard headquarters was explicitly intended to reflect the key, underlying qualities of the shipping company itself. In a wider context, the ideology of merchant capital which dominated many port cities in the nineteenth century implied a belief in the concept of the ‘night-watchman’ state, an adherence to liberal economic principles, and an underlying commitment to prevent any serious disruption to commerce and trade.71 It was also accompanied by a general unwill- ingness to countenance unnecessary social welfare expen- diture and a disproportionate reliance on charity and philan- thropy.72 The motives behind charitable involvement were undoubtedly varied: it often involved an emphasis on moral reform and seldom addressed the underlying socio-economic causes of ill-health, poverty and destitution.73 The involve- ment in charitable activity was also a means of developing and consolidating network links within liverpool’s business community; it served to enhance the reputational profile of individual merchants; and endowed them with additional powers of social control. In individual cases, this was evident in the institutional structures which were established throughout the city as evi- dence of charitable and philanthropic activity by members of the mercantile community. The royal liverpool Seamen’s Orphan Institution (Fig. 11) is one example of the architec- tural legacy of local charity. Seafaring had always involved significant domestic costs in terms of the impact of the pro- longed absence of maritime husbands on the allocation of family responsibilities and the high risk of occupational injury through accidents onboard ship and premature death by drowning.74 In 1866, for example, almost 5,000 British seafarers died at sea (approximately 2.4 per cent of the reg- istered workforce), of whom 2,390 were reported drowned: in 1880 it was reported that ‘sorrow on the sea is still very great, almost unabated’.75 The initiative to establish a chari- table institution to support and educate the orphans of seafar- ers was taken by a group of leading liverpool ship owners at a meeting in December 1868 at the Mercantile Marine Ser- vice association rooms. The orphanage opened in august of the following year in temporary accommodation in Duke Street with 60 resident children, but the acquisition of land from the Town Corporation in 1870 led to the construction of a purpose-built orphanage designed by alfred Waterhouse (1830 –1915) which included a school, an infirmary, a cha- pel, a boy’s swimming pool, and shared dining facilities, with the children accommodated in separate boys’ and girls’ wings. By the end of the century 321 children attended the orphanage, while a further 508 were supported on the basis of outdoor relief. At its formal opening in 1874 Lord Derby emphasized that saving orphaned children ‘from the work- house or the streets is not merely an act of charity; it is an act of duty and of justice’.76 However, the establishment of the (royal) liverpool Sea- men’s Orphan Institution has a wider significance in terms of understanding the social life of the city, the ideology of mer- chant capital with its emphasis on charitable giving (rather than improved social welfare provision), and the class- and gender-specific treatment of the asylum’s children. Despite liverpool’s increasing dependency on commerce and trade from the mid-eighteenth century onwards, the foundation of a suitable institution for the children of sailors who had been lost at sea took place at a comparatively late date. The ( Royal ) Merchant Seamen’s Orphan Asylum had been established in London’s docklands as early as 1827, while the Seamen’s and General Orphan asylum had been opened in Hull in 1866. Although a number of prominent Liverpool merchants played a critical role in developing the Seamen’s Orphan Institution, including leading ship owners such as Bryce allan, james Beazley, and ralph Brocklebank, many members of the merchant community remained ‘deaf to the loud calls which the widows and orphans of sailors continu- ally make’: despite the fact that mariners ploughed the ocean and brought home their produce, too many simply made an excuse that the financing of the Institution did not concern them.77 By 1912, the orphanage only had 507 subscribers, despite the fact that they were entitled to nominate children for admission, and it was disproportionately dependent for annual funding on the contributions to collection boxes on steamers and other ships which were subject to considerable fluctuation. Moreover, charity came at a price. The dining hall was ‘cavernous and austere’; the Institution was run on extremely strict rules and regulations; girls were trained to become domestic servants; and many boys were directed into seafaring through an arrangement with the training ship Indefatigable and suffered the same fate as their fathers.78 Port cities were also generally characterized by extreme wealth inequality. On the one hand, significant wealth could be accumulated through commerce and trade, despite its inherent risks, while, on the other hand, both seafaring and the operation of dock and warehousing systems relied heav- ily on casual labour in a context where wages were driven down by high rates of in-migration. Even in relatively iso- Figure 11: The Royal Seamen’s Orphan Institution, Liverpool The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 42 lated coastal communities, such as the trading posts on the lofoten Islands, merchants deliberately created informa- tion for other users of local space by the size and external colour of their housing in a manner which set them apart from other social classes, while in larger commercial ports the design and interior decoration of residential housing was intricately related to status and public standing.79 This was explicitly the case in Liverpool, where people of wealth and position ‘surrounded themselves with certain attributes of power and wealth’, as means of providing the populace with ‘some indication of their rank and their social status’.80 Indeed, in the window tax assessment of 1850 (which was based on properties with eight or more windows), liverpool registered the highest assessment total in Britain (well in excess of Manchester or Bath), but the grandeur of a private residence was not necessarily a reliable indicator of status as references in the contemporary press to ‘shams and glitters’ suggests that it was widely understood that rapidly acquired wealth could just as easily be lost.81 The houses designed and constructed for liverpool’s mer- chant elite, particularly in the late –nineteenth and early- twentieth century, were intended to reflect the social and business lives of their occupiers. although there were few residences with dining rooms for more than 30 guests, pro- vision was regularly made for extensive picture galleries, libraries and billiard rooms.82 The imposing Gothic revival mansion, Broughton Hall (yew Tree lane, West Derby), designed by Walter Scott for the in-migrant German mer- chant Gustavus C. Schwabe (Fig. 12) could only be managed with the assistance of a large residential staff: the dining room was particularly spacious; while it was over a game of billiards here that Schwabe suggested to Thomas Henry Ismay the founding of a new transatlantic shipping line which later became the White Star line.83 Indeed, entertain- ing at home was an integral aspect of interaction and net- working for liverpool’s merchant elite, particularly during the winter season: it was arranged in a structured, reciprocal manner which still allowed opportunities for spontaneous celebrations, and its scale was sometimes very substantial. On 15 February 1882, for example, the Holts (one of Liv- erpool’s pre-eminent cotton-trading firms) held a party for ‘fully 140, chiefly young dancing people’, while the family residence (Sudley) also included ‘farming and poultry yards and fields’ which led to additional visits from close friends within the business community.84 To this extent, architecture, artistic taste, as well as an interest in agriculture and horti- culture, combined to reinforce the perception of reputation and social status. Structuring the world of the seafarer ashore Most ports had a distinct, if not notorious, sailortown which invariably served as a focal point for life ashore: Baltimore’s ‘The Block’ was ‘renowned among seafarers’; in Hamburg, St. Pauli (at least until 1939) was ‘one great web of preda- tory spiders’ with numerous beer-gardens, dance-halls and taverns; in Liverpool, the area in from the new quay was ‘a mass of sailor taverns and low-class drinking houses with gin palaces in every adjacent street’; while the ‘water- ing holes’ and bath-houses of yokohama were well known amongst foreign seamen.85 Sailortown, with its extended range of attractions, delights and depravities, was an impor- tant aspect of the social life of port cities: it was a ‘zone of cultural contact’ with a well-defined diaspora space where seafarers ashore spent their hard-earned wages on ‘beer, women and song’.86 But the increasing establishment of sailors’ homes from the mid-1830s onwards modified the landscape of sailor- town, as civic agencies and mission societies sought to cater for the welfare needs of seafarers.87 By the early 1850s, the Sailors Home in London catered for approximately 5,000 sailors each year and its bed capacity was doubled in 1865, although many remained dependent on private sector lodg- ing keepers, sometimes of questionable reliability.88 The Liverpool Sailors’ Home catered for 1,822 sailors and 410 apprentices in 1845, its first year of operation, but by 1902 it accommodated 7,245 boarders.89 It was a massive pres- ence close to the waterfront: it was architecturally ‘extrava- gant externally’, while inside the simple and plain bedrooms opened off an impressive galleried atrium with decorative ironwork (Fig. 13, 14).90 In Bombay, the royal alfred Sail- ors’ Home (Fig. 15), designed in the Gothic style by Fred- erick William Stevens (1847–1900) was a ‘rather luxurious hostel’ with large airy rooms and bathrooms.91 Its foundation stone was re-laid in 1872 and the work on the sculptures which were designed to enhance its appearance was super- vised by john lockwood Kipling, as Professor of architec- tural Sculpture. In addition, sailors’ homes were increasingly provided by individual mission societies, sometimes for specific groups of seafarers, whether defined by national- ity, religion or ethnicity. For example, the German Seamen’s Mission in Hoboken, new york, regarded as a ‘suburb of Bremen’ by many seafarers, attracted over 18,000 visitors in its first year of operation in 1907.92 In the course of the twentieth century individual shipping lines, such as the Blue Funnel line and the Elder Dempster line, also created hos- tels for their crew, particularly if they had been recruited overseas.93 But the provision of sailors’ homes was designed to achieve wider objectives in changing or even transforming Figure 12: Broughton Hall, West Derby The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 43 the lives of seafarers, specifically by curbing the excesses normally associated with seamen on shore leave. The mini- sters at the Finnish Seamen’s Mission in london perceived seamen in foreign ports as ‘helpless figures, lonely, gull- ible and carefree to the point of recklessness’ and always prone to fall victim to the ‘Devil’s emissaries’.94 Similarly, in liverpool the pastor and his assistant at the Scandina- vian Seamen’s Church regularly visited nordic ships with the intention of distributing religious tracts. But there is some evidence to suggest that the provision of accommo- dation for seafarers, sometimes located in imposing archi- tectural structures, did facilitate a more careful husbandry of financial resources. Or perhaps some sailors never fitted the dominant, stereotypical image. In its first 40 years of operation the london Sailors’ Home had taken deposits of over £ 2m, of which over £ 700,000 had been remitted to family and friends: in 1902 the Sailors’ Home in Liverpool accepted £ 31,073 on deposit for safekeeping or for remitting home; the Finnish Seamen’s Mission in London registered annual deposits of £ 1,040 between 1889 and 1899; while the Scandinavian Seamen’s Church in liverpool received deposits valued at over £ 9,491 between 1940 and 1948 from 68 individual seafarers.95 Sailors’ homes, therefore, provide an invaluable insight into the social lives of seafarers while ashore and the extent to which they retained a sense of com- mitment and responsibility to family and friends, despite a persistent view amongst elite groups in society that they were generally ‘dissolute’ and ‘easily led astray’ .96 Conclusion: the interpretation and preservation of the social life of port-city architecture Today, as was the case in the past, architecture plays a key role in terms of how port cities represent themselves to external observers and the wider world.97 The architectural profile of port cities reflects a changing and symbiotic rela- tionship with economic actors involved in trade and com- merce; civic buildings were designed to display the aspi- rations and influence of the political elite; office buildings reflected a deliberate use of historical styles and building materials to reinforce status and to emphasize their role as a ‘visible embodiment of modern commerce’; while places of worship were often structured to justify the manipulation of the social order by the dominant, mercantile classes or to reinforce a sense of confessional, ethnic or national iden- tity.98 Even within an established port-city typology, archi- tectural styles could sometimes reflect the need to assert a specific local or regional identity (as was the case with Ham- burg after the First World War), but the changing pattern of international commerce and trade with port-cities as a focal point also served as a mechanism for the assimilation of his- toric design features as well as for the dissemination of new architectural forms. This chapter has attempted to raise some general, theo- retical questions relating to the social life of port architec- ture drawing on a range of historical and site-specific case studies. It has sought to disentangle the factors which have helped to structure the townscape of ports, not only in rela- tion to their commercial operations, but also in the context Figure 13: The Sailors’ Home, Liverpool Figure 14: The interior of the Sailors’ Home, Liverpool The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 44 of the provision and significance of charitable, civic, reli- gious and residential buildings. Too often, architectural historians and city planners are concerned primarily with the design and structure of port architecture, rather than its wider social life or the relationship between building design and the articulation of economic and political power, despite the fact that the ground used for building in most cases has been defined by the state or set aside by legislative decrees.99 There is seldom any attempt to analyse the role of individual buildings within the framework of a social theory of space, to disentangle the wider objectives of commercial, political or religious actors in structuring urban space, or to concep- tualize urban landscapes as public history.100 The waterfront regeneration of many ports in the last few decades has also served to undermine a traditional sense of place identity, as links with the maritime and trading past become weaker, just as recent economic development has sometimes changed the character of commercial areas and led to the demise of sailortown.101 But the architectural history of port-cities is embedded in a range of cultural, economic and political fac- tors; it reflects the importance of the business community and the ideology of merchant capital; the influence of ethnic in-migrants and alternative sub-cultures; and the mediating role of a rapidly professionalizing architectural profession. all of these issues need to be addressed if we are to pro- vide a more convincing appreciation of the social life of port architecture or to offer a better interpretation for the choice of form and materials in the design of specific port-city buildings and their wider significance both for contempo- raries and for wider audiences today. I would like to express my thanks to my colleague Paul jones and other participants at the international workshop on the Social life of Port architecture, held at the Centre for Port and Maritime History, University of liverpool, in June this year and supported financially by English Heritage. Without such a lively and productive exchange of ideas, this contribution would never have assumed its final form. Abstract Das soziale Leben der Hafen-Architektur: Geschichte, Politik, Wirtschaft und Kultur Die architektur von Hafenstädten ist untrennbar verknüpft mit der gesellschaftlichen, politischen, wirtschaftlichen und kulturellen Entwicklung dieser Städte und ihrer rolle im internationalen Handel. Historisch waren es Kaufleute, die die herrschende politische Elite in den Hafenstädten stell- ten. Sie waren es, die größere Projekte in auftrag gaben: Ob beim Bau von Docks, der Schaffung einer Infrastruktur für Figure 15: The Royal Alfred Sailors’ Home, Bombay The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 45 Bürger und Wirtschaft oder bei der Errichtung von Wohnge- bäuden – die Kaufleute konnten auf diese Weise ihren Status an herausragender Stelle im städtischen raum manifestie- ren. Der politische und kulturelle Bezugsrahmen, in den diese Bauten und Gebäude hineingesetzt wurden, bot die Möglichkeit, Handel und Gewerbe in klar definierte, breit angelegte zivilisatorische Werte einzubetten. Die Hafen- stadt-architektur wurde so zu einem der Hauptaustragungs- orte der Beschäftigung mit anderen Kulturen, indem man sich historisierender Stilmittel bediente und in einen Dialog mit der arbeiterklasse trat, die es zu zivilisieren galt, oder, indem man bewusst ‚exotische‘ Motive verwendete, die ein Spiegel der Handelsverbindungen des Hafens in alle Welt waren. Vielleicht noch entscheidender war die Tatsache, dass die Hafenstadt-architektur eine visuelle Manifestation lokaler Traditionen und leistungen war, und zwar besonders im Kontext öffentlicher wie gewerblicher Großarchitektur. Sie war jedoch gleichzeitig Spiegel der gesellschaftlichen Interaktionen, die wiederum Voraussetzung waren für das Knüpfen von Handelsnetzwerken sowohl innerhalb der Städte als auch darüber hinaus. Die Baugliederung der inne- ren Räume macht die impliziten und expliziten Prämissen sozialer Beziehungen der Zeit und ganz allgemein der klas- senhierarchischen Strukturen sichtbar. Der vorliegende Beitrag befasst sich mit Faktoren wie Struktur, Funktion und Wahrnehmung von Hafenstadt-arch- titektur, die miteinander in enger Beziehung stehen. Wie wirkte sich der Handel auf die Bebauung des öffentlichen raumes in Hafenstädten und auf die Verbreitung bestimm- ter Baustile aus? Wie wirkmächtig waren gesellschaftliche Usancen und Werte (religiöse wie weltliche) angesichts ihrer Bedeutung für die Herstellung und aufrechterhaltung von Handelsnetzwerken bei der architektonischen ausge- staltung von Hafenstädten? Der Bevölkerungszuwachs der Hafenstädte war durch eine übermäßige abhängigkeit von der Zuwanderung aus fernen ländern geprägt, mit dem Ergebnis einer oft deutlich multi-ethnischen Bevölkerungs- struktur. Inwieweit hatte diese Vielvölker-Einwanderung und die selektive Festigung von netzwerken in der Diaspora Einfluss auf die physischen Eigenschaften der Hafenstadt- architektur und wie wirkte sie sich auf das Erleben dieser Architektur aus? Seit Beginn des 19. Jahrhunderts profes- sionalisierten sich die in der architektur praktisch Tätigen zusehends. aber in wie großem Umfange bedienten sich die Praktiker in den Hafenstädten dabei internationaler Symbo- lik und moderner Bautechniken? Bemühten sie sich um die Schaffung eines eigenen, lokalen Stadtbildes, das sich von anderen abhob? Und, was für die Forschung von vielleicht größtem Belang ist: Was lässt sich – außerhalb von litera- rischen Beschreibungen und in der Fachkritik – über die allgemeine Wahrnehmung und auslegung der Hafenstadt- architektur sagen? Um die aufgeworfenen Fragen anzugehen, konzentriert sich der vorliegende Beitrag auf eine reihe miteinander in Beziehung stehender aspekte: Die Bedeutung von mächti- gen Handelsimperien wie Venedig und Großbritannien für die Verbreitung bestimmter architekturstile in Hafenstädten sowie der Einfluss von Handelsströmen und -beziehungen auf die Verfügbarkeit und nutzung von bestimmten Baustof- fen; die Rolle der Architekten, die den Sprachduktus und die materialistische Bildsprache imperialer Macht noch ver- stärkten; ferner die Entstehungsprozesse des durch Handel und Gewerbe wachsenden reichtums, das architektonische Erbe, das in den Geschäftszentren vieler Hafenstädte sowie an den Wohnhäusern einzelner Kaufmannsfamilien erkenn- bar wird; und die Herausbildung von Matrosenvierteln, ins- besondere in Bezug auf die Schaffung und nutzung von See- mannsheimen. Der vorliegende Beitrag analysiert darüber hinaus die Bedeutung der Einwanderung sowie niederlas- sung von Einwanderern als Beitrag zur ethnisch-kulturellen Identitätsstiftung in Hafenstädten. Schließlich soll diskutiert werden, wie die Hafenstadt-architektur wahrgenommen wurde, welche symbolische Beziehung zwischen ihr und den politischen und wirtschaftlichen akteuren bestand und es soll eine Erörterung des Spannungsfeldes zwischen Stadt- erneuerung und Erhaltung historischer Bausubstanz vorge- nommen werden, in der ein vertieftes Verständnis für das gesellschaftliche leben in Hafenstädten aufscheint, das über sie selbst hinausweist. Um die aufgeworfenen Fragestellun- gen voranzubringen, stützt sich der vorliegende Beitrag auf eine breite Materialauswahl. jedoch sollen auch jüngste For- schungsergebnisse aus liverpool herangezogen werden, die im rahmen des Mercantile liverpool Project erzielt wur- den, sowie die arbeiten von architekturhistorikern, Kultur- anthropologen und Soziologen, die damit begonnen haben, das gesellschaftliche leben von Hafenstädten im laufe ihrer geschichtlichen Entwicklung zu erkunden sowie die kultu- relle, wirtschaftliche und politische Bedeutung vieler maß- geblicher Bauten zu beleuchten. Bibliography alBIOn, robert Greenhalgh, The rise of new york Port (1815–1860), Hamden, Connecticut 1961 (reprint of 1939 edition) alEXanDEr, Michael, Medievalism: the Middle ages in modern England, Yale University Press, 1987. alOFSIn, anthony, When Buildings Speak: architecture as language in the Habsburg Empire and Its aftermath, 1867–1933, Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2006. 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The Social Life of Port Architecture: History, Politics, Commerce and Culture 
work_grbdr4sg25b7xl6er63nicrivu	----	An Argument for Unbelief: A Discussion about Terminology An Argument for Unbelief The emergence of widespread unbelief in Europe during the modern period is a watershed event in the history of human consciousness. For the first time, significant num- bers of people in the cultural capitals of Western civiliza- tion turned away from religion and spirituality. However, despite the historical importance of this cultural shift, scholars have for a long-time neglected to treat it in their work, and it is only recently that a host of books, articles, and blog posts have been published on the subject. In these new studies, a small, but significant issue has come up: a lack of consensus on the proper term for what has been called atheism, secularism, or irreligion, among oth- ers. In the confusion of terminology, it is my contention that the decline of traditional religion merits a term that is both exhaustive but adequately specific. This article is a proposal to call the subject of this research unbelief versus atheism, the secular, or irreligion. “Unbelief” provides the most open conceptual flexibility without mischaracteriz- ing the person or group into a predefined religious posi- tion. This is not an article that wishes to provide nuance to all forms of unbelief; rather I hope to suggest a more open category that captures the richness of the field. An umbrella term for the field is not only useful but is essential because the current terms are often inaccurate in describing the nuance of changing religious beliefs and positions. Atheism sets up a false dichotomy that excludes the middle: one is a believer or not a believer. It assumes everything fits into two categories. Unbelief exists on a spectrum that includes the complication of the supernat- ural or intangible beliefs in things like progress, or unveri- fiable phenomena (spirituality, aliens, ghosts, spirits, ancestors, etc). Second, and central to the use of historical categories, if one looked only for those who called them- selves “atheists,” the study would indubitably leave out a vast number of people who closely fit the description of atheist but never took the name, and just as importantly, those who were clearly not atheists but were far from tra- ditional religion. The study of atheism and the process of the loss of faith must look at those who rejected estab- lished religion and entered into irreligion. Atheism as a cultural phenomenon lives and breathes in the activity of irreligion. Irreligion being that which challenges, refutes, and doubts religion and the religious. An atheist is a result of irreligion and can be understood to fit under a growing culture of unbelief. I propose the term “unbelief” particularly in opposi- tion to how the Oxford Handbook of Atheism (2013) and the Cambridge Companion to Atheism (2007) editions use “atheism” in their titles as the umbrella term for the study Conrad, NG. 2018. An Argument for Unbelief: A Discussion about Terminology. Secularism and Nonreligion, 7: 11, pp. 1–8. DOI: https://doi.org/10.5334/snr.110 University of California, Santa Cruz, US nickalaos@gmail.com RESEARCH ARTICLE An Argument for Unbelief: A Discussion about Terminology Nickolas Garth Conrad The rupture with traditional religion and the loss of belief in God as a widespread religious position represents a sea change in Western thought. However, there were very few self-declared atheists, secularists, and humanists in Western history prior to the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and even during the Modern period, there are not many. This is especially true in my own research of nineteenth and early twentieth-century France. Those who took the name of atheist such as Baron d’Holbach or Jacques-André Naigeon were exceptional militants. The quest to find other such atheists buried in the pages and hidden messages of key books is a limited endeavor. Atheism as a concept does not originate from any single creed or doctrine and is itself open to permutation. Looking for a clear and distinct form of atheism is looking for a conceptual phenomenon constructed by the researcher. The language and words we use control and direct how we understand the past. The term “atheist” imposes a rigidity to a fluid and shifting phenomenon. Instead, we should open up our research to the emergence of modern “unbelief,” as defined by Gordon Stein and Tom Flynn in The Encyclopedia of Unbelief. This paper will argue for “unbelief” as the proper analytical category as a field of future research that will allow for a much larger, more inclusive, variegated set of parameters to understand the rupture with traditional forms of religion or spiritual practices. The important change in intellectual history was not the emergence of a particular atheism that promoted scientism and which held to its positions dogmatically but the acute doubt of past intellectual and religious traditions that led to a spectrum of new ideologies and religious positions. https://doi.org/10.5334/snr.110 mailto:nickalaos@gmail.com Conrad: An Argument for UnbeliefArt. 11, page 2 of 8 of unbelief and the rejection of God (Bullivant and Ruse 2013; Martin 2007). While these two works are invalu- able as a collection of excellent research and discussion, “atheism,” as a term to cover all that is asked of it, is too unclear and narrow, but also too political and too partisan. Scholarship needs a category that has the virtue of being more inclusive that can comprise the diversity encoun- tered in the history of the ideas and practices that chal- lenged religion and spirituality. I propose the definition given by Gordon Stein and Tom Flynn found in the editions of Encyclopedia of Unbelief (1985) and The New Encyclopedia of Unbelief (2007). In these works, “unbelief” is defined in a more open and inclu- sive way as the position of “not holding orthodox beliefs or traditional opinions–on religious matters” (Stein 1985, xv; Flynn 2007). Moreover, the term “unbelief” is heterodox in relation to traditional or dominant forms of religious expression or practices and is understood to be a term inside a historical context. It is a whole or partial break with traditional religion that includes blasphemy, heresy, the rejection of belief, atheism, agnosticism, humanism, and rationalism (Stein 1985). The term has its merits especially as a historical term that helps make the con- nections to the criticism, decline, or attenuation of belief in supernatural agents, religious ideas, and religious prac- tices. Unbelief thus conceived can include various forms of spirituality and heresies which represent the incremental steps that took people further and further from normative belief in religion, spiritual practices, and the existence of God. The openness and inclusion of “unbelief” is its virtue. To encapsulate all the above, Stein’s definition should be restated: unbelief is the position of not holding ortho- dox beliefs or traditional opinions—on religious mat- ters—and the rejection of authority and norms concerning spiritual practices. This definition accepts a substantive concept of religion that it is analytically useful in the study of history. In con- trast to the social constructionist criticism of “religion” in recent years, the term “unbelief” maintains “religion” to be an analytical, useful historical category that is a tangi- ble phenomenon distinguishable from the secular. Social constructionist theorists of religion in religious studies and anthropology, notably Wilfred Cantwell Smith (1962), Balagangadhara (1994), Jonathan Z. Smith (1998), Timothy Fitzgerald (2001), Russell McCutcheon (2001), and Daniel Dubuisson (2003), assert that “religion” is a Western con- struct invented in the sixteenth and seventeenth centu- ries for demarcating European modern and rationalist traditions from the traditions of non-Europeans, which Europeans considered backward and superstitious. In this evaluation, Europeans labelled themselves “secular” and non-Europeans “religious.” Thus, the religious/secular binary justified colonialism and became an integral part of Western ideology. Further, the social constructionists argue that reli- gion is a problematic concept for other reasons. Timothy Fitzgerald holds that not only is “religion” an invented con- struct deployed for self-serving purposes, but that once the concept of religion is analyzed, religious thinking cannot be satisfactorily distinguished from non-religious thinking. Likewise, Fitzgerald holds that the functional understand- ing of “religion” renders the concept indistinguishable from culture. Thus, the concept of religion has little to no analyti- cal or descriptive value (Fitzgerald 1997; Fitzgerald 2007). In Fitzgerald’s point of view, the inseparable nature of the secular and religious leads some scholars to explore functional ideas of religion that equate ideology with reli- gion since both can provide an ultimate meaning to life (2000). Functional definitions of religion have their intel- lectual origin in Emile Durkheim and Paul Tillich’s work. Durkheim defined religion as “a unified system of beliefs and practices relative to sacred things, that is to say, things set apart and forbidden—beliefs and practices which unite into one single moral community called a Church, all those who adhere to them” (2008, 47). Tillich defined reli- gion as “the state of being grasped by an ultimate concern, a concern which qualifies all other concerns as prelimi- nary and which itself contains the answer to the question of the meaning of life” (1963, 3) Both definitions provide a functional understanding of religion. Durkheim stated that religion designated sacred symbols and helped unify and hold together the community. For example, the tri- color flag is the sacred symbol of French revolutionaries and serves to unify the community symbolically; in addi- tion, the French community is reinforced through mass public republican rituals such as parades, inaugurations, the dedication of deceased secular heroes to the Pantheon in Paris, etc. When French republicanism is functionally compared to the processions, dedications, and sainthood rituals of Catholicism, republicanism and Catholicism appear very similar. Additionally, Fitzgerald argues that such notions as “religious experience” lose their analytical value under investigation (2000). For instance, meditative practices such as fly-fishing or morning walks can be given the connotation of a religious experience. Taking these problems in consideration, Kevin Schilbrack (2012) argues that the term “religion” is not irredeemable. First, the solution is to limit or avoid the use of functional theories of religion. One should instead use substantive definitions. Second, Schilbrack contends that while it is per- haps not possible to separate the categories “culture” and “religion,” one can usefully distinguish different aspects from one another. “Religion” when substantively defined can be usefully distinguished from the secular and culture. Following this logic, “unbelief” is a referent that is mov- ing away from a practice or a belief in a culture that can be substantively and analytically identified as “religion” that is useful, if not essential, for the historian to recognize. Substantively, unbelief points to important historical prac- tices/beliefs that are being modified, rejected, or denigrated. “Unbelief” uses a substantive definition of religion to distinguish “religion” as a social and cultural phenom- enon from the secular and irreligious that exists on a spectrum with religion and spiritual practice on one end and materialism and atheism on the other. While the function of ideology and religion may be similar, their substantive claims are different. Rather than dive into a prolonged discussion about the category of religion, it is the requirement of each scholar to provide with detail what is understood as religion to which unbelievers are Conrad: An Argument for Unbelief Art. 11, page 3 of 8 responding. Schilbrack argues “that ‘religion’ is a socially constructed concept, analytically and descriptively useful for some purposes [that] cannot be studied without at least certain norms held at least implicitly by the scholar,” but remains a real and valuable category (2012, 115). He argues, in short, that religion is a useful analytical cate- gory with limitations built in that can point to substantive differences, as for example, between a temple and a post office building. The problems of “religion” aside, the term “unbe- lief” is not without critics. In the Dictionary of Atheism, Skepticism, & Humanism (2006), Bill Cooke takes a hard stance against the use of “unbelief.” Cooke contends that “unbelief” gives theists the higher ground. Cooke says that the term “defines itself as a negative other to religious belief, and seems to concede to religious belief the status of being the norm” (2006, 545). Further, “unbeliever” is defined by Cooke as a derogatory term that defines peo- ple by what they do not believe, implicitly attaching the stigma of someone who lacks conviction and scruples— that “people without religious belief believe in nothing” (his choice of bold). Thus, both nonbelief and unbelief would fall under this criticism. While Cooke provides thoughtful considerations, his argument against “unbe- lief” is grounded in his preference for the triumph of free- thought and atheism. He makes his evaluative judgment known, rather than his support of impartial inquiry, when he says, “This dictionary exists as a standing reminder of the many noble things freethinkers believe.” (2006, 545) Historical understanding should not be clouded or sacri- ficed to partisan interests. To his first criticism, that religious belief is taken to be the norm is entirely acceptable. Unbelief signifies the rupture with former practices and traditions in regard to religion, the supernatural, transcendence, and spiritual practices. What he sees as a fault is primary and useful for the historian to demonstrate the break with past norms. In addition, the merit of “unbelief” is that it references the disentanglement or removal of religious belief or prac- tice in time. “Unbelief” is a term that places unbelievers in historical temporality. The “un” of “unbelief” ties it to historical references relevant to the particular culture in discussion. The very element that Cooke dislikes is one of the strongest points of the term. That “unbelief” is used in a derogatory manner by some religious believers is not truly a problem because the academic usage of the word is outside such evaluative judgements, which will, conse- quently, rehabilitate the term from the those who use it disparagingly. In regard to thinking about other possible umbrella terms, “unbelief” is the most suitable term for several prac- tical reasons. First, to the surprise of the non-specialist, there are many “atheisms”—a point not clear to those out- side the field. Second, in studying unbelief, we document the incremental, partial ruptures with traditional religion or traditional spiritual practices; however, atheism is part of identity politics that overemphasizes a complete break. Third, because atheism is part of identity politics, it is overly partisan. Fourth, the label “atheist” suggests a religious confession that many subjects in the history of unbelief never made. And last, the label “atheist” is biased towards Anglophone history. To the first point, the term “atheism” is unclear and schol- ars have had to expand the definition of atheism to make it applicable to the diversity of unbelief. According to aca- demic definitions, there are kinds and shades of atheism. Indeed, there are “atheisms.” J.C.A. Gaskin had argued in 1989 for “unbelief” for just this reason. Gaskin was careful to note that “atheism” had various meanings historically and had long been cast about as a term of abuse (1989). Because of its many uses Stephen Bullivant puts atheism in quotations in his chapter “Defining ‘Atheism,’” in the Oxford Handbook of Atheism. Bullivant, after providing five variations of how “atheism” has been used and under- stood, said very tentatively that the definition of “atheism” is a term “relating in a negative way, to a thing or things called ‘god.’” Bullivant then concedes that atheism “simply possesses no single objective definition” (2013, 12–13). He nonetheless believes it to be a useful term so long as it is carefully defined. However, this provides the difficulty of not knowing what kind of atheism we are referring to unless we go back to each individual text, sowing confu- sion each time the word “atheist” is used. For example, early modern thinkers differentiated between “speculative atheism” and “practical atheism” to separate explicit disbelief (by conscious reflection) and implicit disbelief (by unconscionable action). Also, in The Cambridge Companion to Atheism, Michael Martin follows Antony Flew’s definition that distinguishes between nega- tive atheism (absence of belief in God) and positive athe- ism (disbelief in all Gods) (Martin 2007, 1–2). Similarly, scholars must differentiate atheism from agnosticism. These terms start to blend together however. Agnosticism, being the position of not knowing, is synonymous with negative/weak atheism (the absence of belief in God). Finally, there are other “atheisms” floating around in pub- lic usage, such as strong or weak atheism, or even hard and soft atheism. Just visit the popular online discussion forum r/atheism on reddit.com. Members give a litany of various chosen identities of unbelief that slide into the absurd: atheist, strong atheist, anti-theist, agnostic athe- ist, irreligious, secular humanist, nihilist, ex-theist, “I’m a none,” pastafarian, apatheist, dudeist, etc. Apparently, the politics of identity have descended into bathos. The second problem is that “atheism” implies a social rupture and clean break with religion—a kind of iden- tity politics—and not a partial or ambiguous rupture. To declare oneself an atheist is to engage in a ritual of public recanting from the normative group to join the camp of God-deniers. Thus, “atheism” is political and partisan and suggests a conceptual purity that is not represented in the testimony of all those who broke with their religious faith. In my studies of the process of the loss of faith, for- mer Catholics in the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries were reluctant to participate in such identity politics. Former priests during the Modernist Crisis in France such as Alfred Loisy, Albert Houtin, Marcel Hébert, or Joseph Turmel never took the label of “atheist.” They avoided it and used other terms (that could be just as imprecise). Some, such as Alfaric Prosper, Joseph Turmel, http://reddit.com Conrad: An Argument for UnbeliefArt. 11, page 4 of 8 and Jules Claraz, took the label of “freethinker.” Others, such as Marcel Hébert passed into an optimistic hope that God and an afterlife were real and possible while rejecting Christianity wholeheartedly and believing that society and history followed a path of universal spiritual development (Houtin 1925). In a similar case, an excommunicated priest, Charles Loyson, who broke with Catholicism in 1869, died in 1912 calling himself a “freebeliever” (Houtin 1924). There is a grey area to the loss of faith that resists categorization. Some convictions are at the intersections of belief and unbelief. I cannot call these individuals “athe- ists” without doing injustice to their individualism and nonconformity. Yet each one of them contributed greatly to challenging Christianity and organized religious belief in general. Let’s take the example of the former priest Marcel Hébert further, who was pushed out of the Church when a private essay was exposed, Souvenirs d’Assises, which he had written to his former students in 1899. In this essay, all the principles of Christianity are understood as sym- bols of deeper human needs. Further, he expressed the causes of his doubts: the existence of evil, the weakness of the arguments for the existence of God, and the con- tradictions in the Gospels, especially the Resurrection. Hébert could be considered a negative atheist (because of his absence of belief in God). He maintained a position of agnosticism towards God and the afterlife. However, he affirmed that there was an eternal substance moving towards a greater harmony and had a quasi-religious belief in progress (Houtin 1925). What do we make of this last point? Shall we call him a mystical atheist, a freethinker, or a freebeliever? I suggest we call him an “unbeliever” for his heterodoxy and rupture with Christianity and leave the other labels alone. There is a large middle zone to unbelief that overlaps with religious belief where people can of their own voli- tion go back and forth see Figure 1 below. The problem with conceptual categories is the hard line that excludes the middle—the either/or. For example, if we take the book Crisis of Doubt (2006) by Timothy Larsen, he details how unbelievers reconverted to Christianity as an argument for the importance of Christianity in Victorian Britain. In thinking about the people who reconverted, it is difficult to conceive of them intellectually going back and forth using only the term atheist and Christian. David Nash wrote a response to the Crisis of Doubt and he critiques Larsen for characterizing spiritual struggle in strong oppositional terms. Nash suggests we should think of rationalism and spirituality overlapping a great deal. In considering why someone like Annie Besant, a former star contributor to the National Secular Society, converted to Theosophy, Nash concludes that “historians have overstated a natu- rally assumed conflict between religious/New Age mysti- cism and rationalism. Rationalism is not, by default, the antithesis of religious or mystical thought requiring proof without belief” (Nash 2011, 80). Nash includes in his con- clusion the ideas of Charles Taylor and Grace Davie. The latter looks at a middle category of people who no longer practice with an organized Church who “believe without belonging.” Nash also describes how Taylor in A Secular Age argues that belief has lost its roots and foundations and thus “individuals [are] reconstructing religious moral belief from the ground upwards, away from the gaze of religious institutions” (2011, 82). Spirituality has been unhinged from authority and ritual that hold it in place with the result that many people do not hold doctrinaire positions. The term “atheist” does not capture this free roaming of ideas as well as the term “unbelief” does. Figure 1: Venn Diagram of Unbelief: Religious belief and atheism should be seen as existing on a spectrum that includes many overlapping ideas and doubts. Through the process of personal growth people drift between them. Conrad: An Argument for Unbelief Art. 11, page 5 of 8 Most of the terms possible for unbelief are burdened with their particular socio-historical context. Ancient Rome and Christianity had instilled in their governing structure the idea that religion held the social unit together; thus, those who refused to practice betrayed the standards and morals of the community. For Romans, respecting reli- gious practice demonstrated civic loyalty—an atheist was a traitor. Likewise, in the book of Psalms 14:1 in the Bible, the Christians adopted the Jewish judgement that associ- ated unbelief with a “fool” who says “there is no God. They are corrupt; they do abominable deeds; there is none who does good.” They were considered practical atheists, who behaved as if they did not believe in divine judgment. This traditional connection of atheism with immorality has led to nineteenth-century atheists such as Charles Bradlaugh, desiring to rehabilitate the term “atheist” (Gaskin 1989). The term is thus loaded with a moral and social agenda of particular political groups, giving a militant connotation to the word. The identity politics of declaring oneself an atheist, and the desire to avoid the label, has created an assortment of alternatives that became political expressions. The other labels, “rationalist,” “secularist,” “freethinker,” or “human- ist” are strongly linked with particular groups and pub- lications. These terms have become flags around which to rally the troops to action and organization. Tom Flynn lists this as one of the primary reasons he favors “unbelief” in the New Encyclopedia of Unbelief (2010 and 2016). The label “atheist” is partisan, but so are many of the other terms. The term “unbelief” allows a mostly neutral cate- gory, unclaimed by a particular movement. For instance, in the United States, “atheism” is associated with American Atheists and their self-published popular magazine. We also have American Humanism and the Secular Student Alliance, each of which is supporting an irreligious social and political movement. In Britain, there is the National Secular Society. The word “unbelief” avoids pointing to a particular social movement or publication. Fourth, and perhaps the most important, when we assess whether someone was an atheist, we run the risk of imposing a construct onto the subject of our study. Are historians reifying a category and pretending to make it more real and expressed than it actually was? In the search for the origins of atheism, there have been many valu- able and worthwhile attempts to identify the first atheist. But the historian has forced a modern construct on to a pre-modern subject. For example, in looking for atheism, we have gone back to Lucretius and Epicurus, but the Epicureans believed that gods existed. They claimed the gods simply did not concern themselves with the petti- ness of human affairs; consequently, they built their phi- losophy around the notion that the gods were irrelevant. The Epicureans held heterodox beliefs but were not strict atheists. Gaskin includes them in his survey as an expres- sion of “social unbelief” (1989). Epicureans were without dispute an important cultural formation of unbelief since they rejected the conventional notions of traditional reli- gion. “Unbelief” has the virtue of not conflating their rejection of convention with godlessness or misrepresent- ing their claims. In what has become a classic text in the study of the his- tory of unbelief, Lucien Febvre addressed the problem stated above. Febvre had given the impression in his work The Problem of Unbelief in the Sixteenth Century (1942) that mod- ern atheism could not be found in the Early Modern period because the intellectual tools necessary had not yet been fully expressed or created. To the point that atheism did not exist in the Early Modern period, Febvre himself knew that it had existed in proto-type form but not in its fully articulated modern form because the language of science and rational- ism were then too limited. Alan Kors, David Wooton, and Michael Hunter have all noted in fact that Febvre did not sufficiently consider how the idea and creation of atheism had been articulated through Christians themselves (Kors 1990; Wootton 1988; Hunter 1985; Hunter and Wootton 1992). In their passionate defense of God, Christians spelled out and articulated atheist arguments in order to refute them. For instance, Wootton notes that Montaigne, Pascal, Brown, and Bayle had presented arguments for and against unbelief in the Early Modern period (1988). Yet Febvre’s work provides a useful case study that demonstrates the problem of using the label “atheist” for ambiguous figures such as Francois Rabelais. Febvre’s cen- tral question was whether it was appropriate to assume that Rabelais, the great French Renaissance writer best known for his biting satirical work, Gargantua and Pantagruel, was a covert atheist, although he had never admitted to being one. Febvre’s work began as a reaction to another historian, Abel Lefranc, who wrote an introduction to a 1922 critical edition of Oeuvres de François Rabelais that contained the story Pantagruel. LeFranc claimed that Rabelais was a rationalist and an unbeliever who sought to undermine Christianity. Febvre critiqued LeFranc, say- ing it was anachronistic to look for modern forms of rejec- tion of God in sixteenth-century France. Yes, Febvre said, Rabelais mocked religion, dragged it through the mud, and questioned it in ways that many religious thinkers of the time had also questioned it. However, rather than being an atheist, Rabelais fit into the literary culture of his period that lambasted and mocked religion as a common practice. Febvre suggested that in the hope of finding athe- ism, Lefranc had taken his modern form of unbelief and imposed it upon Rabelais’s early modern form of unbelief, turning Rabelais into something like a pure ideological atheist. A central criticism of Febvre’s was that Lefranc used a language inappropriate for the historical period. Lefranc’s language imposed a structure and a cultural atti- tude that was the invention of the scholar. Rabelais might have had held many doubts that took the form of mocking religion, and he enriched the culture of unbelief by writing brilliantly and humorously about religion—but to argue he was promoting atheism is to go too far (Febvre 1985). In sum, using the word “atheism” when examining pre- modern and modern history can create a kind of fiction in the archives. Instead, we should use concepts that are calibrated to the context. The term “unbelief” permits this flexibility. “Unbelief” holds a place for heterodoxy that does not preclude spirituality, helps avoid anachronistic implications, and accounts for the overlapping middle ground found in modern spirituality. Conrad: An Argument for UnbeliefArt. 11, page 6 of 8 Another problem with “atheism” is that it is rather narrowly Anglo-American. By contrast, it rarely appears in nineteenth century-France under that name. “Atheist,” “secularist,” “agnostic,” and “humanist” are irreligious labels associated with Anglophone history. For example, George Holyoake coined the word “secularist” in 1851 because he no longer wanted to be called an atheist, who was someone understood to be without God and without good morals. Later in the century, Thomas Huxley coined the word “agnostic” in 1869. In comparison, the term athe- ist was not championed in France in the same way as it was in Britain as part of an organized social movement. In France, unbelievers preferred to call themselves “libre pen- seurs” (“freethinkers”). Yet, in England, the label “atheist” was taken up by Charles Bradlaugh and Annie Besant in the context of their campaigning for the National Secular Society. They proudly called themselves atheists and tried to convert others to atheism. To call oneself an atheist was to be part of a proud tradition for unbelievers in the Anglophone world. This leads back to point four: in France, few took the label of “atheist.” During the eighteenth century, athe- ist materialism only included a handful of people such as Baron D’Holback, Diderot, Jacques-André Naigeon, La Mettrie, and Helvétius. In the French Revolution, republican anticlericalism and deism were the two most important irreligious movements. In the first half of the nineteenth century, there was no comparable social move- ment of people declaring themselves atheists. Instead, people became followers of Fourier, Saint-Simon, or August Comte. They were Fourierists, Saint-Simonians, or positivists. Their theories were effectively atheistic. However, adherents considered themselves followers of the founders, not atheists. If we tried to label them “athe- ists,” we would begin to impose a conceptual category upon them that was not clearly the case. We can more eas- ily say that Fourier, Saint-Simon, and Comte were a part of the culture of unbelief. Also, the freethinkers of the nineteenth century did not necessarily adopt the identity of atheist, secularist, or humanist. Freethinkers were a brand of unbeliever that contained a great deal of variety. Freethought lacked doctrinal purity and instead united unbelievers through anticlericalism. For example, freethought in France was divided for a time between deists and atheists (Lalouette 1997). Further, some French unbelievers still lingered in an assortment of spiritualist and supernatural beliefs that flourished in Freemason organizations. Emile Combes, a Freemason and the great anticlerical politician who ini- tiated the Separation of Church and State in France in 1905, believed that there was a progressive moral force governing history. One of his strongest convictions was that this moral force progressed through the struggle and marginalization of Catholicism. He was an unbeliever, a person of heterodox beliefs, but certainly not a pure athe- ist (Combes 1956). It can be argued that atheism has arrived in the nine- teenth and twentieth century fully formed with books, organizations, slogans, and their own leaders at the head of social movements. Clearly then, one could argue, atheism should be used in the modern period. Yes, it should, in looking for a very narrow subset of people. Narrow studies should continue to use terms such as “atheist,” “deist,” “agnostic,” and “skeptic.” However, if we use the term “atheist” we are not including modern giants in the history of unbelief such as Emile Combes. “Atheist” has the fault of suggesting doctrinal agreement to pure naturalism and materialism, while “unbeliever” leaves the problems of people’s nuanced and eccentric beliefs accounted for without mischaracterization. Finally, there are other terms that can provide an umbrella term to studies of the decline and rejection of religion worth mentioning. “Secularity” is one candidate. However, it is problematic because secular has its origins in the particular tradition of the National Secular Society and George Holyoake in nineteenth-century Britain. Further, “secularity” has the disadvantage of not necessar- ily implying irreligion. For example, Jews and Protestants in France promoted a secular state and a secular politi- cal agenda because they wanted to overturn the politi- cal domination of Catholicism. In addition, the concept of the “secular” is often tossed about and confused with secularization theory (the idea of a universal causal pro- cess of the decline of religion with the advent of moder- nity). “Irreligion” is another candidate. However, it has the opposite problem in that it implies an antagonism or negation with religion that seems to erase the middle, the indifferent, or the spiritually ambiguous. “Unbelief,” because it has not been claimed by any particular group, remains open enough that it can include the transitional states of spirituality that challenged authority and con- vention. As for the term “freethought,” it provides a posi- tive term without the baggage of the “non” or “un,” has the non-denigrating connotation of “free,” and provides ample ambiguity that can mix spiritual practice and irre- ligion. However, it was one of the most popular partisan labels used in the nineteenth century by French and British anticlerical irreligious groups that constituted a sociopolitical movement that reached its height in the 1880s in Britain and the early 1900s in France. The groups constitued a civil rights movement that had fought and won toleration and acceptance for unbelief in the public space. “Unbelief” does not share this cultural history and therefore remains more detached and neutral from politi- cal partisan struggles in the past. “Disbelief” and “nonbelief” are also candidates. “Disbelief” and “nonbelief” are functional equivalents to “unbelief.” The chief reason of advocating unbelief is that it has acquired some momentum and usage already. Nonetheless, there are good reasons to choose “unbelief” over the others. While “disbelief” and “unbelief” both imply a negation, “disbelief” has the added sense of being unable to believe (for example: they stood in disbelief that someone stole their ramshackle car). “Unbelief” has the virtue of linking the social and intellectual changes moving away from religious belief (“un” being a removal). “Nonbelief” is also similar and a candidate; however, “non- belief” has the connotation of not believing because of a lack of familiarity. Thus, nonbelief is better situated under the umbrella of unbelief than vice-versa. Again, Conrad: An Argument for Unbelief Art. 11, page 7 of 8 being that there is already momentum for unbelief with the publications of the two editions of the Encylopedia of Unbelief, it makes sense to choose it over the others. In conclusion, when we use the word “atheism,” it imposes a hard conceptual line that was often actually blurred and unclear. So when should the term atheist be used? I propose only when the subject of the study declared and identified themselves as such. To do oth- erwise is to impose a type of belief (and an ambiguous one) that they never confessed. The study of the decline of religion is larger than the concept of atheism. The his- tory of the rupture and break with religion entails a vast gamut of irreligious and heterodox spiritual expressions that both overlap and run across a spectrum. As histo- rians, we do the past a disservice by creating categories that do not reflect the period we study. To avoid imposing our ways of thinking upon the past, we need to be careful with the language we use. “Atheism” is a culturally loaded term. “Unbelief” is a more responsible category because its ambiguity allows a much greater degree of inclusion. Competing Interests The author has no competing interests to declare. References Balagangadhara, SN. 1994. “The Heathen in His Blind- ness…”: Asia, the West, and the Dynamic of Religion. Leiden: Brill. 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DOI: https://doi. org/10.1086/600441 https://doi.org/10.1163/157006897X00070 https://doi.org/10.1163/157006897X00070 https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198227366.001.0001 https://doi.org/10.1093/acprof:oso/9780198227366.001.0001 https://doi.org/10.1515/9781400860791 https://doi.org/10.1515/9781400860791 https://doi.org/10.1080/13555502.2011.554676 https://doi.org/10.1163/157006812X634872 https://doi.org/10.1086/600441 https://doi.org/10.1086/600441 Conrad: An Argument for UnbeliefArt. 11, page 8 of 8 How to cite this article: Conrad, NG. 2018. An Argument for Unbelief: A Discussion about Terminology. Secularism and Nonreligion, 7: 11, pp. 1–8. DOI: https://doi.org/10.5334/snr.110 Submitted: 18 May 2018 Accepted: 08 August 2018 Published: 14 December 2018 Copyright: © 2018 The Author(s). This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC-BY 4.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author and source are credited. See http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. OPEN ACCESS Secularism and Nonreligion is a peer-reviewed open access journal published by Ubiquity Press. https://doi.org/10.5334/snr.110 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ An Argument for Unbelief Competing Interests References Figure 1 
work_gsietnceebeqndzl7vdecosm3m	----	Kuklick, Bruce. To Everything A Season: Shibe Park and Urban Philadelphia, 1909-1976. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. pp. xii, 237. 22 black and white plates, maps, essay on sources, and index. $19.95 (U.S.) All Rights Reserved © Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine, 1993 Ce document est protégé par la loi sur le droit d’auteur. L’utilisation des services d’Érudit (y compris la reproduction) est assujettie à sa politique d’utilisation que vous pouvez consulter en ligne. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ Cet article est diffusé et préservé par Érudit. Érudit est un consortium interuniversitaire sans but lucratif composé de l’Université de Montréal, l’Université Laval et l’Université du Québec à Montréal. Il a pour mission la promotion et la valorisation de la recherche. https://www.erudit.org/fr/ Document généré le 5 avr. 2021 21:07 Urban History Review Revue d'histoire urbaine Kuklick, Bruce. To Everything A Season: Shibe Park and Urban Philadelphia, 1909-1976. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. pp. xii, 237. 22 black and white plates, maps, essay on sources, and index. $19.95 (U.S.) Stephen Scheinberg Volume 21, numéro 2, march 1993 URI : https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1016800ar DOI : https://doi.org/10.7202/1016800ar Aller au sommaire du numéro Éditeur(s) Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine ISSN 0703-0428 (imprimé) 1918-5138 (numérique) Découvrir la revue Citer ce compte rendu Scheinberg, S. (1993). Compte rendu de [Kuklick, Bruce. To Everything A Season: Shibe Park and Urban Philadelphia, 1909-1976. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. pp. xii, 237. 22 black and white plates, maps, essay on sources, and index. $19.95 (U.S.)]. Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine, 21(2), 122–123. https://doi.org/10.7202/1016800ar https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/ https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1016800ar https://doi.org/10.7202/1016800ar https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/1993-v21-n2-uhr0676/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/ Book Reviews / Comptes rendus unavoidable, results from the question- naire—regrettably not reproduced in the text—that apparently asked stand- ardized, simple-answer questions of a random sample of more than 600 respon- dents. With this method, the author gleaned a large body of replicable data, but was understandably not able to achieve as much depth as students of Kenya society and politics might wish. For example, one would like to know more about how urban agriculture is re- lated to the rural agrarian economy, and thus the society as a whole. Do some urban farmers maintain relations with kin elsewhere in the country, and what are the economic dimensions of such relations? To what extent is residence in the city a reaction to in- tolerable conditions in the rural areas, and what is it that was intolerable? To what extent is the move an attempt to seek a better life in the city? The author speculates on the answers but the sur- vey method necessarily prevented him from finding out his respondents' own answers to those questions. It would also be interesting to know what role ethnicity plays in the politics of urban agriculture. Is the central city more ethnically mixed than the suburbs because the people there prefer to live near the area where they eventually hope to obtain employment, as the author speculates, or because Kikuyu people and perhaps Wakamba are loath to allow others to encroach on "their" ter- ritory? Another set of questions has to do with Kenya's development strategy. Freeman hints at a problem when he points out that lack of investment in rural agriculture and industry drives rural residents, frus- trated by lack of economic opportunity, to the cities. However, rural escapees do not find the golden opportunities they hope for. In the end they often find them- selves practicing an insecure and usual- ly ill-financed form of peasant agriculture in their back yards and on railroad rights- of-way in the city. Freeman's study reminds us that the failure of many third- world governments to create conditions for the profitable pursuit of small-scale rural agriculture and industry has the per- verse side-effect of displacing peasant agriculture from rural areas to cities. How- ever, the study does not address these implications of its findings. There is much scope here for further study. Obviously, Prof. Freeman could not have been expected to do justice to all these questions in a slender volume. What he has done is a valuable study that provides an excellent base for further in- vestigation of agrarian society and ur- banization in Africa and elsewhere in the third world. CHRISTOPHER LEO Political Science University of Winnipeg Kuklick, Bruce. To Everything A Season: Shibe Park and Urban Philadelphia, 1909-1976. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. pp. xii, 237. 22 black and white plates, maps, essay on sources, and index. $19.95 (U.S.). This is a history of a ball park, the neighbourhood it was a part of, the teams that played in it, and particularly the place of the park in the lives and im- aginations of the fans, players, and owners. It was no field of dreams, in the middle of an Iowa corn field. Baseball is, for Bruce Kuklick, a peculiarly urban phenomenon. A Ronald Reagan might reinvent it for his Iowa radio audience in the 1930s, but big league baseball grew with the cities. Shibe Park (much later renamed Connie Mack Stadium) opened in 1909. It was the first of the privately-financed con- crete and steel stadiums, the successors to the often dangerous wooden struc- tures of the late 19th century. Three of these ball parks still survive—Wrigley Field in Chicago, Fenway Park in Boston, and New York's Yankee Stadium—Comis- key Park in Chicago closed last year. Shibe survived over sixty-one years as an anchor to North City, a new neighbour- hood that developed in the shadow of Philadelphia and persisted into an era of demographic transformation and the harsh politics of urban renewal. Benjamin Shibe, a sporting goods manufacturer and his partner and field manager of the Philadelphia A's, the legendary Connie Mack, located their new stadium in an area previously referred to as Swampoodle. Cheap open land and its accessibility by the Broad Street trolley, as well as three railway lines, made the site appealing. Opening day fans approached an ornate French renaissance facade, with a tower at its corner containing offices for the partners. Inside there was seating for 23,000 with a theoretical capacity, including stan- dees, for a then incredible 40,000. Professor Kuklick's emphasis is on the role of this ferro-concrete structure as a part of the connective tissue in "the way sport is instrumental in ordinary people's construction of a meaningful past for themselves." Thus his title may be evoca- tive of past seasons of baseball glory, but it is intended as a commentary on the transient role of a piece of urban architec- ture in containing or perpetuating the public memory of an important element of popular culture. Shibe Park's season is past, the A's long ago departed for Kansas City and then Oakland and few recall their tie to Philadelphia. The Phil- lies have played in Veterans Stadium for over twenty years now and Kuklick is not interested in rekindling nostalgia but in understanding Shibe's role as a cultural artifact. 122 Urban History Review/Revue d'histoire urbaine Vol. XXI, No. 2 (March, 1993) Book Reviews / Comptes rendus The author is far more successful in giving us a sense of how the players and the owners thought about the stadium than he is in conveying the ordinary citizen's feelings. Kuklick has uncovered the anti-nostalgic reactions of old ballplayers. Most memorable was the comment of Amos Strunk who was in the A's lineup for the 1909 opening game. Strunk, who had been a hard hitting out- fielder for the A's, was invited to appear at the 1970 closing ceremony but refused since "I hold no sentimental value about the closing of this property and it means nothing to me at all." Satchel Paige, the great black pitcher who was not welcomed to the major leagues until long after his prime said only "well...they wouldn't let me and my boys play there." Such gems are not complemented by the voices of or- dinary fans. Interviews were an important part of the research for the book, but the voices of the fans seem muted. Kuk- lick never fully presents these ordi- nary Philadelphians, and does not reveal enough of his interviews with them to provide the access required to allow us to grasp the popular im- agination. Perhaps a Studs Terkel could tap and bring alive the imagina- tion of the baseball fan. The intersec- tion of popular culture and social history may require more than the historian's conventional methodology can uncover. Shibe Park had its few seasons of tri- umph with the A's and their $100,000 infield from 1910-14, the 1927-32 team with stars such as Jimmy Faxx, AI Sim- mons, Mickey Cochrane and Lefty Grove, and the 1950 Philly whiz kids. These were only interludes for Philadel- phia fans who were victims of Connie Mack's penchant to break up winning teams, and the inability of the Phillies management to build a winner. Mack was forced to retire from field management after a tenure of fifty years. His sons were caught up in a family rival- ry that finally resulted in the sale of the A's and their move to Kansas City in 1954. The football Eagles moved to Franklin Field for the 1958 season, where they had not only many more seats but also parking space. Kuklick gives us a picture of the ball park's steady, seemingly inexorable, decline. Perhaps, he observes, if Mr. Mack had overcome his racist prejudices to sign black stars such as Roy Campanella, Orestes Minoso, or Henry Aaron, the A's might have trium- phed and stayed on in Philadelphia and even at Shibe. Yet, the Yankees and the Red Sox were similarly delin- quent in signing black stars, and so perhaps we ought to consign this con- jecture to the Cleopatra's nose file that also holds the note on Mr. Mack's failure to buy Babe Ruth from the minor league Orioles. Shibe's 1970 demise is attributed by Kuklick to persistently poor teams, tech- nical limitations on the expansion of seating beyond 33,000, inadequate parking facilities in a crowded neigh- bourhood, and its situation in a chang- ing and increasingly more dangerous area. Some, or all of these factors may have contributed but they were not uni- que to Philadelphia. Wrigley Field in Chicago was and is not known for win- ning baseball, has limited parking in its environs and has a small seating capacity. Comiskey which only closed last year is in the heart of the South Side ghetto and the Yankee Stadium neighbourhood, recently vividly described in Bonfire of the Vanities, is no safer. This is only to suggest that Professor Kuklick's failure to invoke any comparisons leaves us with a narrowly focused picture and no means of weighing the analysis. Kuklick's failures may be the result of press- ing too hard to knock one out of the park. In this slim book, the urban historian may la- ment the absence of a comparative framework, the historian of popular culture will perhaps desire a fuller treatment of the fans, and the fan will certainly want more colour on players and important games. Yet, these are not three strikes on the author. He has, to leave the metaphor, opened up some interesting new areas in sports history which should prove in- spirational for future scholars. STEPHEN SCHEINBERG Department of History Concordia University, Montreal Hamilton, Kenneth Marvin. Black Towns and Profit: Promotion and Development in the Trans-Appalachian West, 1877-1915. Urbana and Chicago: University of Illinois Press, 1991. index, illustrations. Pp. 152, appendices. $29.95 (U.S.). Professor Hamilton of the Department of History, Southern Methodist University, has presented an important account of the founding of black towns in the Trans-Ap- palachian West. His work, broken into five chapters, chronicles the development of Nicodemus, Kansas; Mound Bayou, Missis- sippi; Langston City, Oklahoma; Boley, Ok- lahoma; and Allensworth, California. Hamilton poses a challenge to existing scholarship and its emphasis on blacks seeking refuge from racial oppression as the major impetus for establishing all black towns in the late 19th and early 20th cen- turies. He does not reject the racial haven thesis but does assert that an essential ele- ment is missing. Hamilton reveals that an entrepreneurial profit motive drove black founders as it did their white counterparts engaged in the enterprise of town founding. To illustrate the cogency of his observa- tions, Hamilton relates the promotional activities of black agents like Edwin Mc- 123 Urban History Review/Revue d'histoire urbaine Vol XXI, No. 2 (March, 1993) 
work_hwwjnezf7verneghmvtcgxutwm	----	The Voyage to Rome in French Renaissance Literature (Review) By: Robert E. Campo Campo, Roberto E. Rev. of The Voyage to Rome in French Renaissance Literature, by Eric Macphail. Romance Quarterly, 40/4 (1993): 249-50. This is an Accepted Manuscript of an article published by Taylor & Francis in Romance Quarterly on04 Nov 2012, available online: http://wwww.tandfonline.com/10.1080/08831157.1993.10545045. ***© Taylor & Francis. Reprinted with permission. No further reproduction is authorized without written permission from Taylor & Francis. This version of the document is not the version of record. Figures and/or pictures may be missing from this format of the document. *** Abstract: This article is a review of the book The Voyage to Rome in French Renaissance Literature by Eric Macphail. Book Review | Sixteenth century French literature | Rome | French Humanists Keywords: Article: The Voyage to Rome in French Renaissance Literature Eric Macphail. (Stanford French and Italian Studies, 68.) Saratoga, Calif.: ANMA Libri, 1990. 216pp. At one time or another nearly every sixteenth-century French humanist would document a "voyage" to Rome, geographical and/or metaphorical. An extraordinarily rich sampling of this documentation provides the material for MacPhail's book, whose goal is "to examine the various meanings of Rome for French Renaissance literature" (3). Following a "method" that combines the "close reading" of a chronologically ordered corpus of prose and poetic texts with "an informed interpretation of the political and historical context in which this literature evolved" (3), MacPhail finds that his subject undergoes three major stages defined by two historical turning-points: the 1527 sack of Rome and the 1559 treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis. Sections 1-2 of chapter 1 summarize the principal writings of the initial stage. For MacPhail, this is the literature of the first quarter of the sixteenth century that expresses the earliest French reactions against the cliches of Italian cultural primacy and imminent Roman "renovatio" (or renewal) promulgated since the fourteenth century. Its foremost spokesmen are Bude, Longuiel, Champier, and Lemaire; its central themes are "translatio imperii" and "translatio studii," which represent France as the inevitable inheritor of the political and intellectual hegemony of classical Rome. http://libres.uncg.edu/ir/uncg/clist.aspx?id=279 http://wwww.tandfonline.com/10.1080/08831157.1993.10545045 Chapters 1.3-3.3 investigate the literature of the second stage: the new, more virulent (if at times ambivalent) anti-Italian writings that emerge after Charles V's sack of Rome in 1527. In the author's view, this event furnished French humanists with the first tangible proof that "translatio" was either fully under way or, paradoxically, wholly unrealizable. Contributors to this "counter- voyage" (103) and its "Rome n'est plus Rome" topos include Erasmus, Dolet, Magny, and Grévin. Joachim Du Bellay, however, is the focus of MacPhail's discussion. Chapters 1.3-2.6 present one of the most expansive examinations of Du Bellay's work to appear in years. In addition to the Deffence et illustration, MacPhail studies the Antiquitez de Rome, the Regrets, the Divers jeux rustiques and the Latin Poemata. Although deeply indebted to Margaret Ferguson and Thomas Greene for his comments on the ambivalent treatment of Rome in the Deffence, the author breaks important new ground by identifying similar cases of ambivalence in the other works and by relating these instances to changes in the "renovatio" and "translatio" ideals or, on a biographical level, to the poet's experience of Franco-Italian politics during the 1550s. The last two chapters (4-5) consider examples of the third stage: the literature of Roman "rehabilitation," which, "through an appeal to history" (especially Tacitus's Annals), attempts "to show that 'Rome est toujours Rome'" (128). McPhail relates this new thematic direction to a growing French desire for political and religious stability first reflected, on the international scene, in France's Counter-Reformation alliance with Spain and Rome under the 1559 treaty of Cateau-Cambrésis. Leading this rehabilitation are Muret and Montaigne. For Muret, MacPhail highlights the militant Counter Reformation propaganda of 15 71-72 and the pro-Roman 1580 lectures promoting Tacitean "prudentia." In Montaigne's case, the author traces Tacitus's role in the Essais "as a chronicler of Rome's private heroism" (165), and he exposes Rome's significance as a "haven for relativism" (179) in the journal de Voyage and a model of "triumphant vanity" (181) in essay III.9, "De la vanité." MacPhail's book has many obvious merits. It is broad-reaching and learned, yet concise and unpretentious. Flawless, however, it is not. For example, never is the precise nature of the two turning-points fully explained. Do they bear causally on the changes from one stage to the next, or are they mere historical milestones in a literary evolution with its own internal momentum? Nor is any attempt made to account for Ronsard's reprise of the "translatio" ideal in his 1572 Franciade, so long after that ideal was supposed to have faded. And why does the author devote only three pages (143-45) to d'Aubigne's Tragiques and, further, consider this work only in relation to Muret's writings, hence apart from the anti-Roman literature of the second stage? These and other less serious objections aside, this book represents an important addition to scholarly criticism on the theme of Rome in French Renaissance literature. Roberto E. Campo University of North Carolina Greensboro 
work_hzkx4ztyc5dvnolldss7xitre4	----	Nobuo Murakami, executive chef of the Imperial Hotel and Ambroise ParE, surgeon in ordinary to the kings of France lable at ScienceDirect Journal of Orthopaedic Science 21 (2016) 255e257 Contents lists avai Journal of Orthopaedic Science journal homepage: http://www.elsevier.com/locate/jos Editorial Nobuo Murakami, executive chef of the Imperial Hotel and Ambroise Par�e, surgeon in ordinary to the kings of France In recent years, the absence of leaders has been pointed out in many different fields. By contrast, our predecessors left many clues as to how to conduct our lives. In particular, the following two per- sons, who lived in different eras, teach us how humans should live and dream for future generations: Nobuo Murakami, who lost his parents when he was eleven years old, underwent training in France, and became the executive chef at the age of 48 after over- coming many difficulties; Ambroise Par�e, who started as a barber surgeon and later served as a surgeon for four kings of France. I hope that their life stories will inspire people who are studying to become orthopaedic surgeons. 1. About Nobuo Murakami In 1969, Nobuo Murakami became the 11th executive chef of the Imperial Hotel at the young age of 48 e an unprecedented achieve- ment. His parents ran a restaurant, which was completely burned in the Great Kanto Earthquake. As he became an orphan at the age of eleven, he underwent many hardships throughout his childhood. When he was twelve, he was recruited as a live-in employee in a western restaurant. Then, he was recruited as a cook at the age of 18 by the Imperial Hotel - his long-sought goal. That year World War II started. He was deployed to Shandong Province in China. He eventually returned home from his detention in Siberia and restarted to work at the Imperial Hotel for the first time in nearly six years. Only three of the thirteen cooks of the hotel survived war. The irony is that, after the war, General MacArthur came to Tokyo, and the Imperial Hotel was taken over by the General Head- quarters (GHQ) as a boarding house for its executives and officers and lunch meetings were held there. After a while, the Imperial Hotel resumed normal operations and started to serve French dishes again, rather than hamburgers and sandwiches. The hotel lost its many talented cooks to the war, and its president, Tetsuzo Inumaru, who was dissatisfied with serving only American food, decided to dispatch his cooks to France for training. When all eight candidates could not make an immediate decision and asked Inumaru to “give us a few days to let us consult with our families”, he became irritated with them. It must have taken great courage to go to Europe at that time. When, in the summer of 1954, Murakami was asked by the presi- dent if he would undergo training in France, he immediately answered: “I'd love to”. In fact, the president did not expect such an immediate reply from someone ranked ninth in the hierarchical order, and asked him: “Why don't you consult your family?” Mur- akami answered clearly: “I can convince my family later. There is http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jos.2016.04.001 0949-2658/© 2016 The Japanese Orthopaedic Association. Published by Elsevier B.V. All no need to worry about”. Thus, Murakami took the chance at the age of 33. His pregnant wife, who was raising their two young daughters, gave her approval without hesitation. Once in Paris, Murakami chose his training place by tasting the cuisine served by the highest-class hotels: Hôtel Crillon, Hôtel Ritz, Hôtel Meurice, and Hôtel George V. His final choice was Hôtel Ritz. Hôtel Ritz is a traditional hotel at Place Vendôme where Auguste Escoffier, founder of modern French cuisine, had been the head chef. Bunjiro Ishiwatari, the 8th head chef of the Imperial Hotel and master of Murakami, as well as Tokuzo Akiyama - head chef of the Japanese Emperor, underwent training in Hôtel Ritz prior to World War II. Hôtel Ritz is also famous for having accommodated Coco Chanel for more than 30 years. Despite his expectation and excitement, Murakami experienced difficulties right from the start. For many French people who had lost their families and friends in the war, he was regarded as a man from an enemy country. He had no choice but to bear cold stares from other cooks and keep working hard. However, his experience of JUDO saved him. He had a black belt before leaving for Paris. When he was asked to demonstrate judo techniques, he impressed his colleagues with his refined technique. Following this event, his colleagues stopped calling him “petit Japo- nais” or “Mura” and started to respect him as “Monsieur Murakami”. After receiving a number of medals of honor from France and serving as the executive chef of the Imperial Hotel, he appeared in a TV program entitled <Kyo no ryori> (Today's Dish) broadcast by NHK for nine years to introduce a variety of dishes from home cooking to French cuisine. With the application of French cuisine to Japanese home cooking always in mind, he explained to the viewers that they could replace brandy or white wine, which were not easily available at that time, by Japanese rice wine (sake). During the Tokyo Olympics in 1964, Murakami served as the head chef for Restaurant Fuji in the athlete's village. Japan was praised as a first-rank country thanks to his efforts. As a judo devotee, he became a 5-dan black belt judoka in 1980, and wanted to further improve even when he reached 60. Mura- kami always told young cooks to “wait for chances while doing your best”, and to “pour affection and heart into food” (Fig. 1). 2. About Ambroise Par�e Murakami reminds me of a surgeon who was under similar cir- cumstances and climbed to the top of surgeons. Ambroise Par�e was a surgeon in the French Renaissance period. He was the first person who started as a barber surgeon and became certified as “maître de rights reserved. http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1016/j.jos.2016.04.001&domain=pdf www.sciencedirect.com/science/journal/09492658 www.elsevier.com/locate/jos http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jos.2016.04.001 http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jos.2016.04.001 http://dx.doi.org/10.1016/j.jos.2016.04.001 Fig. 1. Photo of Murakami Nobuo. Published with offering of the Imperial Hotel. Fig. 2. Portrait of Ambroise Par�e. Published with permissions of Professor Hernigou and Springer (Philippe Hernigou. Ambroise Par�e III: Par�e's contributions to surgical in- struments and surgical instruments at the time of Ambroise Par�e. Int Orthop 2013 May;37(5):975e80). Editorial / Journal of Orthopaedic Science 21 (2016) 255e257256 chirurgie”. He underwent training as a barber surgeon from around 1532, and served as a surgeon in ordinary to four kings of France, starting from Henry II in 1552. He was born in the suburbs of Laval in Loire, 280 km west of Paris. It was very unusual for people like him who could not understand Latin and Greek to become a surgeon. Cautery using heated oil had been conventionally used for the treatment of wounds. However, he recommended non-invasive therapies based on his experience as a military surgeon, rather than sticking to traditional theories, and developed new treatment methods, including ointment treatment for gunshot wounds, blood vessel ligation, and improvements in quadruple amputation. In 1545, he published a paper entitled “Methods for the treatment of wounds caused by harquebuses and other firearms” (Fig. 2). Although many books were written in Latin, he wrote a number of medical books using plain French. He is referred to as the “Father of modern surgery” for his spirit as a positivist. In 1585, he pub- lished “Œuvres” (Works), which covered not only surgery, but also obstetrics and studies of contagious diseases. In addition, Par�e, the father of forensic medicine, conducted forensic anatomy for the first time in France, and published a paper on “Injuries and Deaths”. In 1562, he was promoted to the chief surgeon in charge of Charles IX de France. Many people still praise Par�e, who was benev- olent and modest, valued experiences, and had a deep affection for humans, stating that his personality is reflected in those plain and precise sentences. “Par�e” was used as a logo to represent the SICOT held in 1966. His words of wisdom: <Je le pansay, Dieu le guarist.> (Je le pansai, Dieu le gu�erit./I bandaged him, and God healed him), are inscribed on the foundation stone of his bust in Laval - his hometown. Like Par�e, a large number of surgeons were related to Hôtel- Dieu, the oldest hospital in Paris founded in 651, including Dupuyt- ren known for his research on contracture and fracture, Ryoun Takamatsu - the first Japanese surgeon who studied in France, Ray- naud who reported vascular disorders in the fingers, and Trousseau who suggested the relationship between malignant tumors and thrombosis. The places where they both underwent training are located on the opposite sides of the Louvre Museum and less than 3 km apart from each other: Hôtel Ritz at Place Vendôme and Hôtel Dieu on Cit�e Island (Ile de la Cit�e). I wish I could ask them what dreams they had when they had been living there. 3. About Our Meeting This Year On a different note, it is my honor to serve as president of this year's Musculoskeletal Tumor Meeting of the Japanese Orthopaedic Association that will be held in the summer. While my own exper- tise lies in hip joints and injury, Juntendo University has provided treatment for musculoskeletal tumors for more than 30 years. We are proud that today Juntendo University is among an elite member of schools in the Tokyo area in terms of clinical practice and basic principles. The theme of this year's meeting is “Cancer Literacy for the Next Generation.” In the treatment of musculoskeletal can- cer in particular, how should orthopaedics respond to advances in drug development and medical devices as well as to society's ever-diversifying needs and values. I would like you to join me in thinking about this question, even as we keep sight of where we currently stand. Traditionally, one focus of our meetings has been coordination with pathologists and radiologists. In the future, I am sure the doors of our field will open more widely to medical staff in other medical fields, including oncologists and plastic surgeons, as well as phys- ical and occupational therapists, nurses, and pharmacists. To lead the way in this regard, our meeting this year includes lectures and symposiums with medical staff from a wide range of medical fields. I am also extremely grateful to the many medical Editorial / Journal of Orthopaedic Science 21 (2016) 255e257 257 practitioners from around Japan who submitted oral and poster presentations. We can look forward to a meeting about orthopae- dics that deepens our thinking and understanding by including diverse occupations and various skills across medical fields in an effort to build bridges to the next generation. The two-day meeting will be held July 14e15 at the Tokyo Dome Hotel. I look forward to seeing many of you there. Kazuo Kaneko Professor of Orthopaedic Surgery, Department of Orthopaedics, Juntendo University School of Medicine, Honorary Member of French Society for Orthopaedic Surgery (SOFCOT) 2-1-1 Hongo, Bunykyo-ku, Tokyo 1138421, Japan E-mail address: k-kaneko@juntendo.ac.jp. mailto:k-kaneko@juntendo.ac.jp Nobuo Murakami, executive chef of the Imperial Hotel and Ambroise Paré, surgeon in ordinary to the kings of France 1. About Nobuo Murakami 2. About Ambroise Paré 3. About Our Meeting This Year 
work_fdviy55ao5favbz54qgnw2zavy	----	BUILDING AN IMAGE? CONSIDERING T H E MID-NINETEENTH CENTURY ENGLISH COUNTRY HOUSE AS AN A R C H I T E C T U R A L EXPRESSION OF MIDDLE CLASS VALUES by ANN MERLLNG B.Ed., The University of British Columbia, 1980 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTERS IN ADVANCED STUDIES IN ARCHITECTURE in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (School of Architecture) We accept tliis thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA November 1999 © • Ann Merling, 1999 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make it freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis f o r scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall n o t be allowed w i t h o u t my written permission. Department of The University of British Columbia Vancouver, Canada DE-6 (2/88) 11 A B S T R A C T Mid-nineteenth century England saw an unprecedented building of country houses. This thesis addresses the issues of who was primarily responsible and why the resultant country houses appeared, in both architectural expression and spatial organization, so different from those of preceding periods. Evidence suggests that a significant number of nineteenth century country houses were financially underwritten by middle class owners. An examination of an exemplar country house, Bear Wood, posits that it was specifically designed and constructed to accommodate certain middle class values, a means by which this expanding and increasingly influential class could contribute towards establishing and legitimating its identity as distinct within the social order. Although a decisive defence cannot be offered against the generally inherent and tacit assumptions that the ambition of the middle class investor was to join the ranks of the established landed aristocracy, it is suggested that many of the innate precepts traditionally associated with the stewardship of a country house were used to underpin the identity of the nineteenth century middle class. This work reflects the axiom that, despite gradations of wealth and subsequent levels of rank, the unity and influence of the nineteenth century middle class lay in its common adherence to attitudes and values with which it became particularly associated. Whilst it is acknowledged that one country house cannot be considered a prototypal example to represent a heterogenous middle class, the significant wealth of the owner of Bear Wood did allow him to encapsulate, in architectural form, many of the tenets to which his class commonly subscribed. Evidence of the diversity with which that class represented I l l itself was extrapolated from Bear Wood, a diversity that ranged from a strident and acicular announcement of entrepreneurial acumen and success, to a succinct and subtle representation of domestic values and standards of propriety. That so many nineteenth century middle class tenets were to successfully permeate and influence the entire social order, to be emulated at both ends of the social scale, indicates the significance that can be attached to the architectural expression and the spatial organization of a country house like Bear Wood. iv T A B L E OF CONTENTS Abstract ii List of Figures v Acknowledgements vi Introduction 1 Parti The Nineteenth Century Middle Class (1.1) Middle class identity & its representation in architectural form 8 Part II The Approach to a Country House (2.1) The significance of the approach to the gates 15 (2.2) The significance of the driveway approach to the main entrance 28 Part ITJ The Exterior Architecture (3.1) The issue of an architectural style 39 (3.2) The north entrance facade 44 (3.3) The south garden front 53 Part TV The Domestic Interior (4.1) Robert Kerr's consideration of the domestic interior & the primacy of spatial organization 62 (4.2) Issues of domesticity, the family unit & domestic felicity 64 (4.3) On the issue of spaciousness 71 (4.4) On the issue of privacy 75 (4.5) The issue of gender-specific space 86 (4.6) On the issue of children within the domestic sphere 104 (4.7) On the issue of efficient & productive work ethics 112 (4.8) Issues of technology & scientific progress 111 (4.9) Issues of health, sanitation & hygiene 122 (4.10) v On the issue of middle class culture 130 Conclusion 144 Bibliography 153 Appendix A Statement of accounts for Bear Wood Estate 163 Appendix B Building accounts for Bear Wood House 164 LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1 The approach to Bear Wood estate 14a Figure 2 Sindlesham Green estate village 14b Figure 3 Bear Wood House: north entrance facade 44a Figure 4 Bear Wood House: south garden front 53a Figure 5 Floor plan of Bear Wood House: ground floor 61a Figure 6 Floor plan of Bear Wood House: first floor 61b Figure 7 Floor plan of Bear Wood House: second floor 61c Figure 8 Principal staircase 91a vi A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T S My grateful thanks are extended to Dr. Deborah Weiner of the School of Architecture at UBC, my program mentor and thesis advisor. Her advice and valiant efforts at editing my submissions are greatly appreciated, together with her suggestions and the generous sharing of her professional expertise and knowledge. I would also like to acknowledge and thank Dr. Sherry McKay of the School of Architecture at UBC for her unfailing assistance and support during the production of this work. Dr. Dana Arnold kindly agreed to be my Outside Reader for this project. Dr. Arnold established the program of Country House Studies at the University of Leeds, England and is currently Professor of the History of Design at the University of Southampton, England. Her patience with awaiting my much-delayed submission of this thesis, together with her expert advice and suggestions are much appreciated. I would also like to acknowledge the assistance of Mr. David Greville Bowen as an invaluable resource for the many details and additional information that I required as this work progressed. His many trips to Bear Wood to research and reply to my unending requests have contributed greatly to the content of this thesis. Many others have contributed towards the completion of this work, not least my family and friends who have demonstrated remarkable support and patience. The professional input of others, such as Mr. Tim Knox, Architectural Historian for the National Trust, as well as the research staff at English Heritage, the RTBA Library and The Times have all made valuable contributions to this thesis. To these and to all the many others who have assisted me in so many ways, I extend my grateful thanks and appreciation. C'est finis! Vlll O f all the great things that the English have invented and made part of the glory of the national character, the most perfect, the most characteristic, the one they have mastered most completely in all its details, so that it has become a compendious illustration of their social genius and their manners, is the well-appointed, well-administered, well-filled country house. Henry James, "An English New Year", 1879 1 INTRODUCTION ...Victorian country houses, because of their size, their complexity, their social background, the occasional masterpieces and many curiosities among them, and the mixture of piety, snobbery, romanticism, idealism and pretentiousness that contributed to their making, form a fascinating collection. Seldom can so much money and such exhaustive study have produced a group of buildings that, as private houses, became so soon and painfully obsolete.1 Because of the construction of unprecedented numbers of country houses, mid- nineteenth century England might be considered to have been the 'golden age' of country house building.2 Be these country houses now viewed, as suggested by Mark Girouard as 'occasional ̂ masterpieces' or 'many curiosities', there is little doubt that they were large in both number and size and eclectic in distinctive architectural styles and spatial organization. The focus of this thesis will be to address the issues of who was primarily responsible for the construction of these unprecedented numbers of mid-nineteenth century country houses and why they appeared, both in architectural style and spatial organization, to have been so different from those of preceding periods. Referencing both architectural expression and spatial design, attention will be given to what had been retained, what was 1 Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1979): v. 2 For the purpose of this thesis, the mid-nineteenth century refers to the years circa 1850-1880. By mid- century, the nations was at the cusp of its vigour and economic growth before the depression of the 1880s had begun to take effect. Altick in Victorian People & Ideas (1973) considers these years to have been the High Victorian Era that ended in the mid 1870s: 14. 'Well over 1,000, perhaps as many as 2,000 country houses were built between 1835 & 1914'. Franklin, The Gentleman's Country House & Its Plan (1981): 1. F.M.L. Thompson suggests that a 'reasonable guess' for the standing stock of houses in 1830 was 3000 and that 'some 500 country houses were either built or substantially remodelled between 1835 and 1889. The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 154 &155. The effects of the agricultural depression that took root at the beginning of the 1880s did not entirely halt the construction of country houses, although the numbers declined. (This does not apply to 'houses in the country' the numbers of which remained high until World War I). The last great country house to be built was Castle Drago, commissioned from architect Edwin Lutyens by Julius Drew, founder of the Home & Colonial grocery stores. Building eventually ceased in 1930, although the house was never completed to the original plan. 2 innovative and new and how these innovations and changes might be interpreted within the social context of contemporary nineteenth century England. So as to allow for a more equitable comparison with country houses from previous centuries, the definition applied to the mid-nineteenth century houses considered will be those situated on an estate that could provide sufficient financial support, rather than being a 'house in the country' wherein the operation of the latter required support with financial input from sources other than its estate. Thus, the mid-nineteenth century country houses studied were the principle residence of the owner, functioned as the family seat and were at the centre of a self-supporting, financially viable estate.3 In a departure from the tradition of previous centuries, when the building of country houses had primarily been undertaken by the aristocratic landowning classes, a significant number of those built in the nineteenth century house belonged to new families.4 Historian F.M.L. Thompson estimates that the number underwritten by financial investments made by wealthy members of a rapidly expanding and increasingly influential middle class was at 3 Franklin in The Gentleman's Country House (1981): Chapter 2 provides information on the size and financial viability of 19th. century estates. Although the houses considered in this study were all situated on financially viable estates, unlike those of previous centuries, a self-sustaining estate was not essential for many 19th. century country houses. Income was often supplemented by the mineral rights to many estates (as in the case, for example, of Brodsworth Hall, Yorkshire, rebuilt between 1861 and 1863 from the profits of coal mined on the estate). For the long- established landowners, increased industrialization allowed for opportunities to diversify financial assets into such areas as urban and industrial developments (as in the case, for instance, of the Dukes of Westminster and Devonshire who developed urban areas in London and Eastbourne, respectively). In addition there was the growing tendency to invest in foreign stocks (as in the case, for example, of the Duke of Bedford who invested (and subsequentiy lost) heavily in Russian railways). Marry 19th. century middle class owners did not actually depend on the financial viability of their estates, for they had significant incomes derived from entrepreneurial activities outside of their estates. 4 Franklin: The Gentleman's Country House (1981): 25. Paul Langford in Public Life & the Propertied Englishman (1991) refers to an emerging 18th. century middle class, but he defines that of the 19th. century as being entrepreneurial: 14. The fact that the majority of houses were being built by wealthy middle class owners does not mean that the aristocratic landed gentry were idle, but their focus was largely on the remodelling of ancestral homes, rather than on the construction of new ones. For example, the Lyttons remodelled Knebworth in the 1850s, the Bute family started extensive remodelling at Cardiff Castie in 1865, the Beaumonts started work on Carlton Towers in the 1870s. least half of the total.5 That these middle class owners should make considerable investments in the commission and construction of such exceptional numbers of houses leads to an examination of the significance that they evidently attached to the ownership of a country house and its attendant estate. It cannot be denied that many country houses belonging to middle class owners would have been built to rival or emulate either existing houses belonging to the established landed gentry, or those being constructed by other members of the middle class who had been equally successful in their entrepreneurial achievements. Was it, then, that these middle class owners wanted, through the medium of their country houses, to achieve the social standing traditionally associated with aristocratic ownership, or was there an alternative objective? For example, were these mid-nineteenth century houses specifically designed and constructed to accommodate any specific social tenets by which their middle class owners wished to be identified? If this was the case, what, then, were these tenets that became associated with middle class identity and how can they be interpreted through the architectural medium of a country house? Is there evidence that there was a specific and deliberate intent on the part of the middle class owners to use their country houses as a means by which certain of their class ideologies could be established and sustained, so to contribute towards legitimating their identity as a distinct social class, separate and apart from the aristocratic or the working classes? Whilst the research for this study entailed considering a wide representative selection of mid-nineteenth century country houses built by owners and architects to whom middle class status can be appropriated, the primary focus is on the architecture and the spatial organization of one in particular.6 Bear Wood built between 1865 and 1874 on an 5 Thompson, The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 155. 6 A detailed discussion of middle class status will be presented later in the text. 4 estate at Sindlesham, near Wokingham in Berkshire will be used as the exemplar in order to address the issues raised. Whilst Bear Wood can be considered an extreme, rather than a typical, expression of middle class values, the financial resources of the owner meant that he could afford to fully express, in architectural form, the tenets to which he subscribed. Hence, Bear Wood provides a particularly readable resource from which to identify many of the values by which the nineteenth century middle class can be identified. Both the owner, John Walter III and the architect, Robert Kerr, belonged to the middle class.7 Both were influential. John Walter, as principal proprietor of the Times, a newspaper of'enormous prestige' with not only the biggest circulation, but one that 'spoke for the middle class', was in a position to exert considerable influence on his readers.8 His was a position in which he was respected, a suggestion supported by the fact that he was several times offered the honour of a peerage.9 Robert Kerr, too, was in a position to exert considerable influence. In his professional capacity, he was the first president of the Architectural Association, Professor of the Arts of Construction, Kings College, London and, for forty two years, District Surveyor for St. James's, Westminster.10 In addition, he was author of several literary works, perhaps the most influential of which was The 7 John Walter III (1818-1894) Robert Kerr (1823-1904). 8 That the 'Times spoke for the middle classes', is an assumption made by Girouard possibly based on the fact that it was considered to be a Tory-biased newspaper, "Bear Wood, Berkshire" Country Life, October 17, 1968: 965. There is also the presumption that (particularly the middle and upper ranks of the middle class) were pro-Tory, whereas the aristocracy were traditionally presumed to be pro-Whig. The influence of the paper was probably enhanced by the fact that 'The Times emerged from the (Crimean) war with enormous prestige': 966. In the latter years of the century, advances in technology meant that the process of printing became cheaper. The Times lost ground to the penny-press publications, a fact that substantially reduced Walter's income and that would, ultimately, contribute to the sale of his estate, Bear Wood. The status that had been applied in the mid-19th. century to the profession of architecture infers that Kerr, too, would have been considered middle class. 9 The Times, "Death of Mr Walter", Monday, November 5, 1894. Kerr declined the offer of a peerage. 10 Directory oj'British Architects 1834-1900: 524. 5 Gentleman'sHouse.'! His obituary noted that, in both his writing and in his oratory, Ken- was in the 'possession of a gift [that was] fluent and effective, that he was a man of 'energy and vigour'.12 Hence, by the media of both his professional position and his publications, he was in a position to exert considerable influence, not only on his professional peers, but also on potential middle class owners of country houses for whom The Gentleman's House, in particular, appeared to be a definitive treatise.13 For both his architectural peers and potential country house owners, the book provided detailed and specific parameters within which both architect and 'English Gentlemen' were offered detailed instruction and advice on the appropriate architectural design, as well as the spatial organization for their houses.14 As the contemporary architect, J.J. Stevenson noted: On the subject of planning houses, 'The English Gentleman's House', by Professor Kerr, contains about all that need by known. The book is large and would bear condensation.15 And, as if to underscore the influence that a book such as Kerr's would have had on both architects and clients, Stevenson wrote of his own literary works, 'architects have frequently told me that they wished they had such a book as this which they could put into the hands of their employers...'16 1 1 Robert Kerr (January 17, 1823-October 21, 1904) born, educated and trained in Aberdeen. FRIBA 1857. President A A 1847-1878, District Surveyor for St. James', London 1862-1902. Published Newleqfe Discourses on the Fine Art of Architecture (1846) The Consulting Architect (1886) The History of Architecture in all Countries (1891-1899). Biographical notes, Directory of British Architects 1834-1900: 24. 12 The Builder, "The Late Professor Kerr", October 29, 1904: 435. 1 3 As noted in Part I (1.1), it was acknowledged that Walter gave Kerr the commission for Bear Wood based on The Gentleman's House. 1 4 Kerr first published The Gentleman's House; or, How to Plan English Residences from the Parsonage to the Palace; with Tables of Accommodation and Cost, and a Series of Selected Plans in 1864. By 1865, the book had been revised. The second edition included a Supplement on Works of Alteration, and Additional Plates. 1 5 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. I (1880): 8. Fellow of the Royal Institute of British Architects. 1 6 Ibid.: 2. However influential the work of Kerr might have been, it is suggested by the architectural historian, Nickolaus Pevsner that Kerr's 'nimble mind' might have 'turned over' 'thoughts similar to Burgess' and Whites' and even more of Aitchison's and Harris's'.1 7 If this was so, then it might be assumed that the advice and suggestions offered by Kerr reflected those of a wider range of architectural thought than those of the author alone and that his literary works can be considered a codification of both past and present notions. In addition to citing John Walter and Robert Kerr as influential members of the middle class, particular reference will be made to the works of J.J. Stevenson; House Architecture, Volumes I and II were published in 1880, although Stevenson notes that he had begun his work 'ten years ago during an interval in the practices of my profession'.18 Stevenson's works are considered to be a particularly important resource for the purposes of this thesis, for he sometimes concurs with and, thus adds credence to, the advice given by Kerr in 1865 in The Gentleman's House. However, presuming that Kerr's work was directed at middle class readers, the fact that Stevenson did not completely concur with Kerr's advocations elucidates the diverse ways in which an expanding, increasingly influential, but far from homogenous, nineteenth century middle class represented itself. Reference will also be made to the contemporary works of John Ruskin, particularly as his influence spanned the period on which this thesis is focused. A pre-eminent nineteenth century philosopher and thinker, architect, artist, critic and prolific writer John Ruskin, with his affluent, Evangelical Christian, middle class background, reflected many of 1 7 Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972): 233. 1 8 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7(1880): Preface, v. It can be presumed that Stevenson had been influential in the field of architecture for a decade or more before his books went to print. the values and attitudes on which middle class ethos was based and by which the class has been subsequently identified.19 As historian, Kristine Garrigan notes, the 'formidable reputation' of Ruskin makes it 'difficult...to reevaluate either Victorian art or architecture without studying Ruskin's imposing works carefully' in that 'no other author has ever been more thoroughly identified with the aesthetic currents of his time'.20 It will be suggested that certain of the ideologies to which both owner and architect of Bear Wood, as representatives of the middle class, apparently subscribed were evident in the architecture and spatial design of a mid-nineteenth century country house. That these middle class tenets were to successfully permeate and influence the entire social order and were, subsequently, to be emulated at both ends of the social scale, indicates the significance that can be attached to a country house like Bear Wood.2 1 Assumptions will be drawn from examining the siting, the architecture and the plan of Bear Wood. Evidence will be sought that certain values associated with the social status of both owner and architect had a very close relationship with the way in which the approach to the house was planned, as well as with the architectural expressions evident in its design and the way in which middle class domestic space was intended to function. By such means, credence can be given to the supposition that a mid-nineteenth century country house, such as the exemplar Bear Wood, was a medium by which certain middle class values could be manifested and maintained, so to enable the class to build an identity by which it would be recognized as a distinct and legitimate in the social order. 1 9 Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972) devotes Chapter X V to the influence of Ruskin. 2 0 Garrigan, Ruskin on Architecture (1973): xi. 2 1 Walter Creese in The Search for the Environment (1966) states that it was 'the eternal ambition of the working class to attain the broad middle class plateau of respectability', an ambition inherent in both the 19th. and the 20th. centuries: 335. 8 PART I (1.1) Middle class identity and its representation in architectural form On June 6, 1868, an article in The Builder reported, in part: A very interesting event came off on Saturday last. At Bearwood, in Berkshire... a fine house is being erected from the designs of Professor Kerr, for Mr. John Walter...The building being finished externally, or nearly so, . Mr. Walter on that day entertained at dinner the whole of the workmen who are engaged upon it, some 380 in number...In proposing the health of the architect, Mr. Walter said that it was from perusal of Mr. Kerr's book, "The Gentleman's House," he had been led to seek that gentleman's assistance. An analysis of a country house such as Bear Wood, designed by a middle class architect for a middle class owner, demonstrates the diverse ways in which many of the tenets associated with their class by the mid-nineteenth century were represented in both its architectural expression and its spatial organization. This diversity of representation is suggested, for example, by the maxims of the architect of Bear Wood, Robert Kerr. On the one hand, he instructed readers of The Gentleman's House that 'it must be looked upon as a rule that an English gentleman will desire to avoid obtrusiveness even at the sacrifice of a good deal of that importance which properly belongs to the rank, wealth, education and character of his class'.22 This advice evidently meshed well with the persona of Kerr's patron. In the eulogy The Times paid to John Walter at the time of his death, he was described as having been a man of 'refined Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 51. taste', a person o f principles', o f judgement', o f rare sagacity and insight', o f sincerity of purpose'.23 On the other hand, to such perceptions of restraint, refinement and integrity must be compared a vocabulary that has also been used to formulate an identity for the Victorian middle class. Kerr, himself, appeared to contradict his maxims for unobtrusiveness and restraint by incorporating terminology such as 'authority, vigour, vivacity, dignity and importance' into his architectural dogma.24 In the present century, the architectural historian, Mark Girouard not only considers such words pertinent, but he has supplemented them with his own 'power, magnificence and display'.25 Such a vocabulary, be it applied to architecture or to the identity of an individual, suggests a nineteenth century middle class that apparently represented itself in diverse ways. Support for the hypothesis is upheld by the literary critic, Terry Eagleton who theorizes that: the term'ideology'is just a convenient way of categorizing under a single heading a whole lot of things we do with signs. The phrase 'bourgeoisie ideology', for example, is simply shorthand for an immense range of discourses scattered in time and space.26 The many ways in which the middle class manifested its ideologies was an indication that it was a far from homogeneous group.27 As a class, it was both complex and disparate 23 "Death of Mr. Walter", Times, Monday, November 5, 1894. 2 4 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865) 2 5 Girouard, "Bear Wood, Berkshire, I & II", Country Life, October 17 & 24, 1968. Girouard is cited as a reference primarily because there appears to be little extant documentation to indicate that any significant research has been undertaken on the architectural history of Bear Wood, apart from that published by Girouard. Much of the content of the Country Life articles cited later appears under Girouard's authorship in The Victorian Country House (1971, revised 1979). The original name of the estate was documented as Bear Wood, but was used interchangeably in the 19th. century references as Bearwood (see The Builder). 2 6 Eagleton, Ideology: an Introduction (1991): 193. 2 7 The first requisite of middle class status was an income above a certain minimum. The figure of S300 per annum was frequently considered the minimum for the normal range of middle class comfort. However, 10 in a society that was becoming increasingly pluralistic. The middle class was primarily stratified by levels determined by the degree and the source of income, as well as by education, religious affiliation and standards of domestic accommodation.28 Nevertheless, those who claimed middle class status, despite their economic or religious diversity, appeared bound by a commitment to adhere to the imperatives of a common moral code. Theirs was a code based primarily on the Malthusian concept that man would attain his full stature as a rational, responsible being if he embraced moral restraint. At the same time, evidence of middle class entrepreneurial success was displayed in often ostentatious material form as a means by which the rewards for the Puritan-Evangelical ethics of hard work could be publicly demonstrated.29 In the course of the nineteenth century, however, despite the range of economic and social levels that delineated middle class status, a shared adherence to a code of ethics resulted in a doctrine that was to unite its members with a common identity. the lower strata had incomes of S150-S200 per annum, with some clerks and teachers earning as little as S60. Harrison, Early Victorian Britain (1979): 106-107. Sheeran, Brass Castles (1993) adopts the criterion used by historian W.D. Rubinstein that an 'affluent gentleman' would be worth 85,000^810,000. The 'new rich' of 'superior wealth' were worth 8100,000 - 5150,000. There were also middle class millionaires, Ibid: 8. An important concept was that the income of a middle class family was derived from one wage earner (the male head of the family) whereas the income of a working class family came from several sources of wages from both male and female family members. For examples of working class incomes, see Sheeran: 11-12. 2 8 Distinctions within the middle class are discussed by Sheeran, Brass Castles (1993): 20. Rubinstein inMen of Property (1991) posits that religious affiliation and education were the most important differences between what he terms the 'two middle classes': 620-621. The middle and upper stratas of the middle class were generally presumed to be predominantly affiliated with the Anglican church, those from the lower stratas, with the Dissenting and Evangelical sects. Rubinstein also argues that there was a distinct geographical distinction with middle class wealth, with that derived from commerce and finance focused on the Home Counties and London, that derived from industry and manufacturing focused on the Midlands and the north of England. 2 9 Despite a presumed affiliation with Anglican religious ritual, the middle and upper stratas of the middle class believed that Evangelical tenets of hard work brought rewards, a belief that formed part of the common ideologies to which its members subscribed. 11 Social historians, Leonore Davidoff and Catherine Hall consider that an adherence to the shared ideologies of the middle class emerged from the crises of the turbulent decades of the early nineteenth century.30 Historian Robert Stewart concurs with this, in that the emerging consciousness of class was an indication of the tensions and conflicts that had developed among the 'old interests' with, for example, the ongoing political ascendancy of the Tories.31 At the same time, the general usage of the language of class, combined with the emergence of an increasingly influential middle class became, according to J.F.C. Harrison, 'entangled with political struggle and theories of social change'.32 The inherent natural order of things in which the aristocracy, traditionally attributed with confidence, experience and expertise, were expected to govern was being undermined. There was an awareness that the ongoing revolutions in France could be repeated in Britain. Combined with this were such as the Swing Riots in 1815 and 1830, together with the Peterloo Massacre of 1819, indications of an incipient radicalism festering among the lower orders. By 1838, the Chartist Movement that had sought democratic and social change had formalized its principles for reform in the Peoples' Charter.33 In an effort to counter such signs of unrest among the proletariat, Lord Grey, leader of the Whigs, had introduced the first Reform Act in 1832, the intention of which was to 'associate the middle with the higher orders of society'.34 Combined with the passage of the Poor Laws, the first of which was introduced in 1834, the Act was intended to unite the middle with the upper classes to form a powerful force against the potential of revolution. The tactic was to 'strangle the working 3 0 Davidoff & Hall, Family Fortunes (1987): 18. 3 1 Stewart, Party & Politics (1989): 13. 3 2 Harrison, Early Victorian Britain (1979): 31. . 3 3 Despite the Peoples' Charter, agitation from the Chartist Movement continued over the next decade or so. 34 Thompson, The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 16. 12 men's ambitions' by way of the enfranchisement and, consequently, invest a large percentage of the male middle class population with political empowerment.35 Hence, the government of Lord Grey had provided the middle class with a powerful and legitimate means by which its members could voice the beliefs of their own class. An existence, separate and specific from either the aristocratic or lower classes, fuelled the aspirations of the middle class to imprint its identity on the social order, ambitions that can be seen as concurrent with similar national ambitions in a global context. A national euphoria, grounded on the defeat of Britain's long-standing enemy, the French at Waterloo in 1812, had laid a foundation on which the social constructs of the century were to evolve. The wish to create an orderly, disciplined, regulated and supervised society, the somewhat hegemonic mission to spread beliefs of freedom and ideals of the 'true religion', reflected aspirations that were both national and middle class. With the accession of Victoria in 1837, Britain had embarked on a period of peace and prosperity with ongoing economic growth, generated by rapid advances in technology and industrial developments. This is affirmed by F.M.L. Thompson, who is of the opinion that, by 1830, the Industrial Revolution was over and the nation was 'at least half-way through its drive to maturity, the maturity of a modern, fully industrialized economy'.36 By mid-century, the middle class had coalesced around shared ideologies. To theorists, Antony Easthope and Kate Hall such a common ideology implies a class structure 3 5 Stewart, Party & Politics (1989): 13. Franchise was originally granted to male householders occupying premises with a minimum revenue of S20 per annum. This was later reduced to S10 per annum, which meant that about 20% of the adult male population was enfranchised. By 1884, all male householders over the age of 21 had the vote. The fact that property was made a criterion for franchise contributed to the association of property with a man's worth. 3 6 Thompson, The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 22. 13 insofar as it is social and collective. They summarize the concept in terms of Marx and Engels who developed an account of ideology in terms of 'economic base' and 'ideological superstructure'. If a person's class position is determined by his or her economic position in relation to the mode of production, then this individual will share an ideology representing the economic interests of the class they belong to.3 7 Against a backdrop of both growing material prosperity and representation, the middle class became increasingly anxious to express an identity distinct from those above and below them in the social order. This set them apart, in particular, from the long-established landed aristocracy who, it was perceived, likely would have inherited many of the propensities of their 'profligate patrician, eighteenth century ancestors'.38 As Kerr noted in his review of the direction that nineteenth century architecture had taken, the 'old philistinism of the Georges' had been 'vanquished'.39 Under the rubric of a 'growing desire for independence from the clientage of landed wealth and power', a middle class owner like John Walter could, through the medium of his country estate and its house, not only implement middle class ideals, but also help identify the values to which he subscribed as being distinct from Easthope & McGowan, A Critical and Cultural Theory Reader\\991): 42. 3 8 The 'moral restraint' adhered to by the 19th. century middle class contrasted with Cannadine's perception of the 18th. century 'profligate patrician', who left an inheritance of 'widespread financial embarrassment and heavy indebtedness, the result of heavy and accumulated family charges, electoral extravagance, and the expense of house building'. The Decline & Fall of the British Aristocracy (1990): 37. In turn, the aristocracy distanced themselves from even the wealthiest middle class on the assumption that most of the wealth of the latter was derived from trade, considered a 'vulgar' means of acquiring money, '...the number of aristocrats directly concerned with industry or manufacturing, apart from membership on boards of companies exploiting minerals on their own land, was probably n i l ' . Rubinstein, The Victorian Middle Classes (1977): 621. The same association of vulgarity was not applied to commerce or the professions. With the system of primogeniture inheritance in place, many of the younger sons of the aristocracy earned their living in such fields. 39 "English Architecture Thirty Years Hence ". A speech delivered by Kerr on Friday, May 9, 1884 at the sixth and final Meeting of the General Conference of Architects held in London from 5 to 9 May. Published in Trans. R.I.B.A., XXXIV, 1883-4. Reprinted in Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972): 291-314. 14 those of the aristocratic, or even the working classes.40 That the middle class wished to be regarded as a distinctive and separate class was a position bolstered by the expanding number claiming such status.41 A study of a country house such as Bear Wood indicates that it served as a representation of an image of the middle class transcribed into architectural form. Built in the middle of the nineteenth century, Bear Wood inherited significant historical precedents. These included an understanding of its position as the fulcrum of power at the centre of a landed estate: further, that the country house was a source of influence and patronage, the locus of an authoritative, paternalistic community in which contemporary concepts of social management and political control could be exercised. Under the aegis of both earlier and nineteenth century values, the very existence of a country house could be seen to represent economic achievement, the identity of the owner and status for the family. It also implied a sense of stability and permanence to the family line and resonance to the family name. Its size, its placement within the estate and its architectural style can be interpreted as an indication of the temporal power, as well as the wealth and the individual tastes of its owner. 4 0 Davidoff & Hall, Family Fortunes (1987): 18. Hall suggests that the ambition of the middle class to establish a separate identity was abetted by the working class who, although adopting many middle class ideologies, did not 'adopt them wholesale' and, thus, 'demonstrated [their] independence from middle-class meanings of the term and the creation of a separate and class-specific concept'. White, Male & Middle Class (1992): 144. 4 1 Hall, White, Male & Middle Class (1992) estimates that, by the mid nineteenth century, 25% of the population claimed middle class status: 157. 14a 1 4 b i 15 PART n (2.1) The significance of the approach to the gates of a country house It would appear that a systematic analysis of the approach to a nineteenth century country house, such as Bear Wood, elucidates the diverse and seemingly contradictory ways in which the middle class represented itself On the one hand, for example, there would be evidence of moral restraint, on the other, aggressive representations of self-aggrandizement. There would be the representation of refined of taste alongside strident idioms of pomp and splendour. There was the contrast of an adherence to the tenets of privacy and domestic felicity, coupled with a public expression of civic duty that inferred ambitions for social recognition. A country estate, particularly when belonging to a middle class owner, provided evidence of accumulated wealth, either acquired, or inherited, but sustained as a result of entrepreneurial acumen and success. However, evidence suggests that such wealth was often intended to be mitigated by demonstrations of a philanthropic and moral conscience. Generally undertaken in the name of responsibility, that is a civic duty to society, such demonstrations served to establish a perception of middle class values that was intended to set the nineteenth century country house owner apart from its eighteenth century predecessor.42 4 2 This was both confirmed and affirmed in literary sources. For example, Charlotte Mary Yonge had published The Daisy Chain in 1856, at the centre of which were philanthropic deeds. Just over 20 years later, in 1879, Henry James wrote of the philanthropic deed of a country house owner in "An English New Year". 16 . In the case of the Walter family, a philanthropic conscience was made very public by the conspicuous construction of, for instance, churches.43 In 1846, approximately twenty years before John Walter III commissioned Bear Wood, his father, John Walter II, had built the church of St. Catherine's at Sindlesham. This was later to form part of the estate village built concurrently with Bear Wood house in 1865.44 In 1864, John Walter III continued his father's philanthropic gesture when he endowed the construction of St. Paul's in the nearby town of Wokingham.45 He later built an adjacent rectory and, at the end of the century, he and his heir, Arthur, undertook to build St. Paul's Elementary School, Parish Room and Clock Tower.46 That John Walter III wished to be perceived as having a philanthropic conscience was substantiated by a statement made in The Builder at a ceremony to mark the completion of the exterior of Bear Wood house. At that time, Walter in his 'felicitous addresses...expressed with emphasis the hope that the home there being formed would never become the seat of merely selfish enjoyment, but would long remain a centre of kindly hospitality and social sympathy'.47 The Bear Wood estate village of Sindlesham Green, like many earlier estate villages, was purpose-built, rather than having evolved organically over a period of time.48 The location of a village adjacent to the approach of an estate was not new, but the existence of earlier villages outside the boundaries of the estate was generally the result of the gradual, 4 3 In addition to the construction of churches, the owners of estates, as well as wealthy urban residents, frequently undertook the restoration of existing churches. 4 4 John Walter II (1776-1847) son of the founder of The Times. Both churches practiced the Anglican ritual. 4 5 In the opinion of Mark Girouard, this was to 'ease his conscience'. The Victorian Country House (1979): 121. 4 6 Lea, Wokingham, A Pictorial History (1990): 5. 47 The Builder, "Bearwood", June 6, 1868. 4 8 Purpose-built estate villages were 'closed' villages under the control of the landowner, whereas the organic growth of 'open' villages was due to the vagaries of demographics. 17 but consistent, enclosure of land that had been taking place since the fifteenth century. The biggest transformation of the rural landscape had taken place between 1755 and 1779 under Parliamentary Acts that had rapidly accelerated the processes of enclosure and engrossment, as well as the emparkment that had been ongoing for several centuries.49 Under the aegis of more efficient and lucrative agricultural methods, these processes had significantly increased the size of country estates. Eighteenth century concerns for the aesthetic appeal of a landscaped park adjacent to the house significantly contributed to estate villages being relocated outside park boundaries and, most importantly, out of sight of the house.50 They were displacements that fractured the traditional and ancient system whereby landowners and tenants had lived in close proximity. They were also indicative of the increasing separation of family from servants and of the incipient separation of the public from the private realms in domestic living, actions at were to later form the foundation on which the social tenets adhered to by the nineteenth century middle class were constructed.51 By its location at the approach to the Bear Wood estate where it was 'likely to catch the eye of visitors',52 the nineteenth century village of Sindlesham Green echoed the same intentions of similarly placed villages of the previous century in that its siting provided an impressive and emphatic public introduction to the significance of the owner. The east side 4 9 Between these years, 1,124 Acts of Enclosure were passed. Langford, Public Life & the Propertied Englishman (1991): 370. 5 0 The 18th century was a time of noted landscapes such as Lancelot 'Capability' Brown & Humphry Rcpton. 5 1 The list of estate villages relocated in the 18th. century is long, but includes such as Sudbury, Houghton, Lowther, Dyrham, Milton Abbas, Nuneham Courtenay, Castle Howard, Harewood, Kedleston, Blanchard, Coneysthorpe & Tremac. In the case of Kedleston, an Act of Parliament was required in 1760 to change the direction of the turnpike during the relocation of the estate village, when cottages, an inn and a mill were destroyed. The ancient church, around which the west wing of the house was built, remained. At Castle Howard, the approach to the Temple of the Four Winds now follows the original route of the village street. 'Hundreds of ad hoc acts' continued to be passed until 1840 so that, by the beginning of Victoria's reign, the majority of aristocrats owned estates of 10,000 acres. Altick, Victorian People and Ideas (1973): 20. 5 2 Mingay, A Social History oj'the English Countryside, (1990): 182. 18 of the boundary road, which approached the main gate to Bear Wood from both north and south, was bordered by the houses that made up the village of Sindlesham Green. Hence, the location of the buildings that formed the village was partly intended as an overt announcement of the existence of the estate. As with the estate villages built in the eighteenth century and, like most of those constructed in the nineteenth century, the buildings of the Bear Wood village were architecturally uniform.53 However, unlike many previous estate villages wherein the architecture often reflected that of the country houses they served, the raison d'etre of the uniform architectural style of a village like Sindlesham Green was intended to infer a sense of community, rather than have any architectural reference to the house. For example, the church, school and inn were afforded prominent siting along the approach road. As noted by the writer, Gillian Darley a nineteenth century estate village would be carefully sited: Without making any effort to rival the strident and amazingly intricate structure of the house, the village sets the building within its context - the great mansion with the village at its gates - just as eighteenth century equivalents suggested their feudal origins merely by its disposition.54 With the exception of the church which was built in Mansfield stone, the houses that made up Sindlesham Green were all, including the lodge at the main gate to the estate, built in a vernacular style of red and black brick, manufactured in brickworks constructed on the estate. The uniform architecture of an estate village such as this added to the impact made A notable exception to the uniform architecture generally employed for estate villages is that of Edensor relocated during the landscaping of the park at Chatsworth by 'Capability' Brown in 1761and rebuilt in 1839 in an eclectic mix of architectural styles to suit the taste of the 6th. Duke of Devonshire. There are numerous examples of 19th. century estate villages built by middle class owners in conjunction with the construction of country houses. The list includes Waddesdon, Ascott and Mentmore, all built by the banking Rothschild family. Somerleyton was built by a carpet manufacturer, Penrhyn by the owner of slate mines. 5 4 Darley, Villages of Vision (1975): 47. 19 as the estate was approached and provided a means by which the presence, the financial resources and the aesthetic taste of the landowner could be advertised. In contrast to earlier villages, relocated as the result of emparkment, or to satisfy the aesthetics of the landscape in proximity to the house, a nineteenth century estate village, such as Sindlesham Green, was intended to be a very public proclamation Of the beneficence demonstrated by the owner towards his tenants. Such a philanthropic gesture would have reflected nineteenth century middle class dogma whereby notions of duty towards the lower classes were transmuted into the practical provision of, in this case, housing for estate tenants. As a member of the middle class and a disciple Of Kerr's noted concern for the 'domestic habits of refined persons', John Walter would have epitomized the contemporary definition of a gentleman.55 And, as both gentleman and a middle class nineteenth century estate owner, he would have perceived it as his philanthropic duty to indicate his regard for the welfare of his tenantry by providing them with family homes within a village community.56 Despite the fact that the contemporary nineteenth century view of estate villages was that they were a bad investment with poor rent returns often as low as 2 1/2%, an estate village like Sindlesham Green would have been an investment, 'viewed as a convenient means of transferring wealth to a future generation, while conferring current social status'.57 Hence, it served a dual purpose in that it not only provided a means by which the status and financial acumen of the owner could be underscored, but it also 5 5 Kerr, The Gentleman's House, (1865): 63. 5 6 Beckett, The Aristocracy in England (1986): 356. 5 7 Ibid: 70. As noted in the Introduction, landowners, both middle class and aristocratic, increasingly derived incomes from entrepreneurial activities outside of their estates. John Walter, for example, derived income from The Times. 20 provided a means by which he could mitigate the philanthropic, social and moral conscience that was integral to middle class ideologies.58 Within the context of the village community there was the church to watch over religious morals, the school to provide a rudimentary education, the houses to shelter the family unit and, not least, an inn, a source of leisure and entertainment, but conveniently located for supervision. Besides such apparent acts of philanthropy and beneficence, there were other motives, among which, as housing historian Enid Gauldie notes, was a 'wish to have on their estates a docile and dependent people'.59 Hence, even if purportedly constructed under the rubric of benevolent ideals, an estate village such as Sindlesham Green indicated the control the owner could exercise over its inhabitants. It was he who decided on its site, its architectural details and its plan, as well as who would be desirable tenants and under what constraints they should live; it was he who retained the rights of the advowson for the village church. He, in fact, can be seen to have created a systematically planned, 'sheltered, protected and regimented rural community' by means of which he could impose a notable moral influence on its inhabitants.60 As owner, he had the authority and the power to control the economic, religious, social and moral well-being of his tenants.61 The building of an estate village, therefore, by a middle class estate owner such as John Walter provided a means by which he could enhance both his philanthropic standing as well as his dignity and authority within his community. In architectural terms, such dignity 5 8 There is some evidence to suggest that the Walter family demonstrated a philanthropic conscience. The Twenty Second Report with Statement of Accounts for the years 1880 and 1881 for the Association for the Sale of Work by Ladies of Limited Means lists John W. Walter, Esq., M.P., Bearwood, Wokingham as Treasurer: Mrs. Walter, Bearwood, Wokingham as Honorary Secretary: D/EWLF10R.O. 5 9 Gauldie, Cruel Habitations (1974): 44. 6 0 Ibid: 97. 6 1 At Wallington, Northumberland, Sir John Trevelyan built both church and estate village and would allow no Nonconformist worship on the estate, despite it being situated in the area where John Wesley had preached with such influence. 2 1 and authority were apparent in the associative hierarchy that appears evident in the building materials used for Sindlesham Green village and Bear Wood house. Whereas the church was built of the Mansfield stone that was also applied as dressings to the main house, unadorned brick was used for the village buildings, as well as for the servants' wing at Bear Wood. Within the context of middle class ideas about hierarchy and morality, did the Walter family consider itself, in its superior position of authority and perceived dignity, to be more upright than either the tenants or the servants, a notion that they manifested in architectural terms? It might be presumed that John Walter III, like other men in his position of estate ownership, was acting with a very specific motive. It was a means by which he, as a representative of the middle class, could help establish an identity perceived as being separate from the aristocracy. His overt and very public demonstrations of philanthropy towards his tenants was a notable departure from the established landed gentry, who were generally understood to have been neglectful landlords, with little concern for the welfare of their tenants.62 In this way, as a representative, he could help establish an identity for the middle class which would set it apart from the established landed gentry. The life of tenants on an estate like Bear Wood, although sheltered and protected, took place within circumscribed and regimented limits. Their tenancy depended on their continued employment on the estate, as well as on their adherence to the standards of propriety demanded by their landlord.63 As Gauldie notes, 'nineteenth century landed 6 2 A representative of the Enclosures Commission, appointed in 1845, 'mentioned that only the Dukes of Bedford, Rutland and Newcastle, and the Marquis of Exeter as being conspicuously different from the general run of neglectful landlords'. Gauldie, Cruel Habitations (1974): 48. 6 3 As Gauldie notes, these tenants were the 'skilled and privileged country workers', although their accommodation was contingent on their labour being required on the estate. Cruel Habitations (1974): 48. 22 proprietors could with an easy conscience feel that it was not part of their duty to provide homes for the immoral, the undeserving, the socially undesirable'.64 Thus, in a position as autocrat, as well as philanthropist, an owner like John Walter would have been well- positioned to impress his middle class values on his tenants: Existing within the proscribed boundaries of middle class ideology, these tenants were usually known for their sobriety and good behaviour, as well as for their moral standards and their work ethic. Constrained by the rules on which their continued tenancy depended, their habits, leisure pursuits, religious and political views were perforce shaped by a deference and obedience to the prevalent ideologies of their landlord.65 Not only did the estate village provide a medium by which both the authority and the philanthropic concerns of the owner could be maintained, but it would also appear that it should also serve a more practical purpose. In line with the business acumen by which successful, nineteenth century middle class entrepreneurs were becoming identified, the owner of an estate, in providing shelter for his tenants, could ensure a supply of the necessary skilled labour needed to run his estate efficiently as a financially viable operation. How, then, did the objectives of a middle class nineteenth century owner who built an estate village differ from those of his landowner counterpart in the previous century? In many ways, they would, appear to be similar inasmuch that both can be said to have utilized the location of the village at the approach to their estate as a means by which to provide a positive and very public reinforcement of their status, emphasizing their presence, their This was in contrast to the tenants of 'open' villages who were not confined by the ideologies of the estate owner and who were often considered to be unrestrained in their behaviour. Darley addresses this issue of different behavioural practices between the inhabitants of 'open' and 'closed' villages in Villages of Vision (1975). ' ' . 23 authority, as well as their aesthetic and architectural tastes. Across the two centuries, there had been little change in the deference and obedience that were required for continued tenancy and employment on the estate. Any differences might, then, be attributed to other objectives that lay behind the construction of estate villages. Eighteenth century estate villages were generally built as the result of a 'ruthlessly efficient' relocation.66 The result, although architecturally uniform and aesthetically pleasing, more often than not concealed overcrowding and a lack of adequate sanitation.67 In addition, in many cases, at country houses such as at Dyrham, Nuneham Courtenay and Kedleston, the church remained within the park boundaries at a considerable distance from the relocated estate village, proving inconveniently inaccessible to the villagers. The primary objective of the eighteenth century landowner was that his estate village not encroach within the boundaries established by emparkment, or impede the aesthetics of his park landscape. Unlike his middle class nineteenth century successor, he laid claim to few, if any, philanthropic or benevolent intentions with the construction of the village. Even though its location at the approach to the estate asserted the presence of the owner, it was a motive that did not always appear to be of primary or paramount importance. In many instances, these relocated earlier villages, such as Edensor, the estate village for Chatsworth, were out of sight of both the house and the approach to the estate, so indicating that a crucial factor was a concern for the aesthetics of the landscape, rather than to affirm any philanthropic intentions on the part of the owner.68 6 Beckett, The Aristocracy in England (1986): 361. 6 7 For example, the relocated estate village at Nuneham Courtenay, although architecturally uniform, consisted of two bedroom cottages, each one of which housed at least two families. . 6 8 The relocation had taken place during the landscaping of the park in the 18th. century. 24 Nineteenth century middle class notions of civic responsibility interpreted as 'inexorable demands of Duty' manifested themselves on country estates as apparent concerns for the well-being of tenantry.69 No matter what the religious affiliation of its members, prevalent middle class ideologies were aided by a rhetoric that embraced, amongst others, the Puritan-Evangelical work ethic. Cleanliness, order and efficiency, respectability, duty, self-help, prudence, frugality and the sanctuary of the home and family were all upheld as blueprints for society. Under a professed philanthropic agenda aimed at maintaining these middle class ethics, the construction of an estate village was intended to 'raise standards with new houses of more ample dimensions and often with substantial gardens'.70 These principles can be seen at work in an analysis of Sindlesham Green. Despite an inferred hierarchy assigned the inhabitants by the existence of single and semi-detached houses, as well as three and four cottage terraces, all had both long front and back gardens attached, so to provide the residents with the opportunity to usefully occupy their non- working hours, as well as to supplement their diets, by raising produce. Walter appears to have subscribed to contemporary social mores, whereby the moral aspects of overcrowding was also of concern. According to Mingay, 'it became increasingly seen as important that children not share their parents' bedroom and that separate bedrooms should be provided for boys and girls'.7 1 It would seem that such concerns were accommodated in Sindlesham Green for, even in the terraced houses, there was the provision of at least three bedrooms.72 *9 Mingay, The Unquiet Countryside, Thompson, "Landowners & the Rural Community (1989): 93. 7 0 Mingay, A Social History of the English Countryside (1990): 182. 7 1 Ibid. Mingay also notes that, despite the apparent concern for overcrowding, the large size of families meant that even the provision of at least three bedrooms did little to mitigate this problem. 7 2 Random enquires made within the village indicate that, indeed, there were at least three bedrooms in the houses. 25 Good housing conditions and neatness of planning meant that the middle class ethics of cleanliness and health, considered concomitant with middle class values of moral conduct and the sanctity of the family unit, could be implemented and maintained due to the benevolent concerns of an estate owner such a John Walter. Like his predecessor, the nineteenth century estate owner demonstrated his presence, his prestige, his power and his wealth by means of his country estate. To do so meant that he was prepared to expend vast sums of money on both estate and country house!73 John Walter, even though the second generation owner of the estate, was like many other middle class successful entrepreneurs in that he made a considerable investment in the purchase of land, in the construction of a new house at its centre and a village at its gates.74 At the same time as Sindlesham Green was being built concurrently with Bear WoOd house, Walter was consolidating his land by purchasing and selling properties in the proximity of the estate.75 Between 1840 and 1885, he was to accumulate an estate in the region of 8,000 acres.76 The cost of the construction of the house, on which building finally ceased in 1874, was over £200,000. At almost twice the original estimate, it represented a considerable investment on his part, despite his annual income of £50,000; 7 7 7 3 F.M.L. Thompson, English Landed Society in the Nineteenth Century (1963). 7 4 The original estate of 158 acres was Crown land purchased in 1816 by John Walter II (d. 1847). He added an additional 146 acres shortly after his initial purchase, to compile an estate of just over 300 acres in total. The purchase price was S3,050. Girouard, "Bear Wood, Berkshire ", Country Life, October 17, 1968:964. Although not all estates were purchased, or country houses built with newly minted money, by the 1880s, it was estimated that, for example, over 20% of the landowners in Lancashire had obtained their wealth from industry. Walton, Late Georgian & Victorian Britain (1989): 38. 7 5 Walter built a new house on a site west of that built by his father, John Walter II. 7 6 See Appendix A for properties and comparative valuations of the estate when owned by John Walter III. 7 7 See Appendix B for building expenditures for Bear Wood house. The cost can be equated to the S300 that 'could buy a modest suburban villa' or the £2,000 that 'might be needed for a very large town house'. Hoppen, The Mid-Victorian Generation (1998): 336. In The Gentleman's House (1865) Kerr devotes 'Part Fifth' to 'Notes on Accommodation and Cost'. He is somewhat equivocal in his advice as to the sum to be invested. He notes, 'it must be frankly admitted that in spite of anxious endeavour to arrive at some standard of judgment or advice, we feel obliged to yield, not 26 Eulogized as a 'responsible' man of 'principles', of 'sagacity and sincerity of purpose', a man of 'unswerving honesty of purpose, with a disinterested devotion to public welfare', John Walter, through the medium of the estate village at the approach to his country house, was able to publicly demonstrate his 'gentlemanly' middle class notions of a civic conscience and duty.78 It would appear that such nineteenth century middle class concepts of noblesse oblige were inherently attached to the ownership of a country estate like Bear Wood and provided a means by which middle class social values could be implemented, advertised and sustained. In addition, the construction of Sindlesham Green would have enhanced the capital value of the estate, thus demonstrating the sagacity of the financial acumen of its owner. It would also have contributed to a social order maintained under the auspices of various benevolent and philanthropic duties. No doubt it was hoped that the inferences perceived and interpreted from the presence of an estate village like Sindlesham Green would reflect a social order whereby 'harmony rested on deference and obedience'.79 before die delicacy of the subject (because it is merely a matter of business), but before die great variety of the circumstances and the consequent complexity of principles involved'. As a cost estimate, he admitted to a 'practical standard recognized' as 'ten times the rent of the house occupied, taken as leasehold and clear of repairs'. 381-382. The annual income of John Walter can be compared to what his servants might have earned. At 19th. century Blenheim, for instance, an under-housemaid earned S12 per annum, an upper-housemaid, S18. The housekeeper, in the position of a senior servant, earned $50 per annum, the butler, S75. Source: Fowler, Blenheim Palace ((1989): 127-128. Briggs in Victorian Things (1988) also gives examples of wages earned by domestic staff: 256. 78 Dictionary oj'National Biography: 2191. 7 9 Mingay, The Unquiet Countryside, Thompson,. "Landowners & the Rural Community (1989): 80. 27 For the nineteenth century middle class, confident and secure in the knowledge that its value system formed the foundation of contemporary society, it was a notion that might have been ordained by God, for had it not been adroitly affirmed in the contemporary hymn, All Things Bright and Beautiful: The rich man in his castle, The poor man at his gate, God made them high or lowly, And ordered their estate.80 8 0 From Hymns Ancient & Modern (London, 1924): 496. Written in 1848 by Cecil Francis Alexander (1818-1895). 28 PART n (2.2) The significance of the driveway approach to the main entrance It was generally made quite clear that a country house and its estate was being approached. In some cases, the house was strategically positioned so it could be seen from a considerable distance as, for instance, was Belvoir Castle, high above the expanse of the Vale of Belvoir.81 Even if the house were hidden from public view, there were definite indications of the approach to it and its estate. It could be that a village, clustered around the approaches to the main gate, provided a very public indication of the existence of an estate. In addition, earlier processes of emparkment had often resulted in clearly and distinctly marked territorial boundaries, so that park areas adjacent to the house were generally contained within walls, with fences or railings defining the boundaries of the more distant parts of the estate. Fences or estate buildings were sometimes painted in estate colours in order to indicate and impress ownership, with the application of family insignia to entrance gates, estate cottages, or even to milestones, providing additional evidence of ownership.82 The entry to a country house estate was usually supported by a lodge. In earlier centuries, gatehouse lodges had performed the important and necessary function of protection. By the eighteenth century, although still providing a means by which entry 8 1 The original l l t h . century siting would have been for defence purposes. The current house, on which rebuilding started in 1801 and completed c. 1816, was in the Gothic style, under the direction of the architect, Matthew Wyatt. 8 2 While there appears to be no evidence that estate colours were used at Bear Wood, they were used on estates such as Woburn Abbey, Calke Abbey and Waddesdon Manor. In the February 18,1865 edition of The Builder, the obituary to the Duke of Northumberland noted that 'many and many a village may be seen with a crescent painted on every door, indicating that it is ducal property': 114. . 2 9 could be controlled, their function was primarily perceived as a means by which the immediate approach to the house could be heralded. Their very presence inferred the status of estate and owner. Their architectural design suggested architectural prospects within the gates that symbolized perceptions of erudite status that, over the centuries, had become to be associated with the owners of country houses. At Blenheim Palace, for example, designed by architect John Vanbrugh to celebrate the victory of the Duke of Malborourgh at the Battle of Blenheim in 1704, the lodge symbolically took the form of a triumphal arch to mark the entrance to the estate and the approach to the house. During the building of Basildon Park between 1776 and 1783, attention was given to the entrance lodges flanking the main gate to the estate by the architect of the house, John Carr of York. These octagonal lodge buildings built in ashlar stone with round-headed windows were a means by which the classical architecture of the house was introduced, complimented and signified.83 A similar intention can be seen at Kedleston Hall, where the lodges at the North Gate, designed by Robert Adam nearly twenty years earlier, had also implied the architectural glories to be seen at the house within the estate.84 As in previous centuries, the very presence of lodges at the entry to nineteenth century country houses such as Bear Wood suggested ownership along with inferred status. To this, can be added the same practical aspect in that they were a means by which entry to the estate could be controlled. However, in many cases, these lodges were not intended to It is interesting to note that, in 1842, the architect J.B. Papworth, felt the need to embellish Carr's lodges. Papworth increased the height by about a third and added rectangular panels carved with garlands and lion's masks. In addition, he heightened the gate-piers and designed elaborate ornaments for them in cast stone. The National Trust, Basildon Park, Berkshire (1991): 34-35. 8 4 In 1759, Robert Adam began the rebuilding of a new house at Kedleston. 30 introduce, or even infer, any architectural glories that might be evident in the country house within the gates: unlike the lodges at Basildon Park or Kedleston, for instance, the lodge at nineteenth century Bear Wood did not reflect the architectural design used for the house. Instead, lodges at the gates of country houses like Bear Wood were often in the same vernacular style as the nearby estate village and constructed of the same building materials. At Bear Wood, the single storey lodge, built of brick with a slate roof, claimed only modest architectural enhancement with stone window lintels and decorative barge-board gables. Neither its architecture nor its unpretentious size signified either the architectural appearance or the magnitude of Bear Wood house. In a similar manner, the pair of lodges at the entrance gates to Waddesdon Manor, built in the 1870s by a member of the Rothschild banking family, were designed by a local architect in a half-timbered vernacular design that reflected an architectural association with the adjacent village, rather than with that of the house.85 In reference to the approach to his country house, Ferdinand Rothschild made note of both the vernacular architecture of the lodges, as well as to his philanthropic propensities: ...all the farm buildings, model cottages, and lodges were built by a local architect, Mr Taylor of Bierton. Waddesdon now has its hotel, its village hall and reading-room, its temperance and benefit societies...86 Unlike the approach to country houses in the previous century, these nineteenth century lodges built for middle class owners generally offered no indication of what could be expected of the house itself. Neither the lodges at Bear Wood nor at Waddesdon, for Waddesdon, designed by the French architect, Gabriel-Hippolyte Destailleur, was built in the French Renaissance architectural style. 8 6 Mrs. James Rothschild, The Rothschilds at Waddesdon Manor (1979): 3. The hotel in Waddesdon village was originally constructed to house the artisans working on the house. 31 instance, can be considered instrumental in heralding either the architecture or the significance of the house within the gates. Inside the gates, a country house would be approached by a driveway. In the eighteenth century, in particular, a driveway was intended as a means by which the significance of the house could be anticipated upon the approach. Many driveways, particularly those that approached the houses of the aristocracy, such as at Blenheim Palace and Kedleston, took a circuitous route to give an indication of the immensity of the estate. At Castle Howard, the driveway was an absolutely straight five -mile approach on a north- south axis that allowed tantalizing momentary glimpses of the house across the lake, as well as of the Pyramid, the Temple and the Mausoleum on the estate. It was an avenue that ran 'straight as an arrow', that was later, in the mid-nineteenth century, to be further signified at its southernmost point by 'the first signal of the approaching splendour' a 'huge monument...to the 7th. Earl of Carlisle'.87 The approach ran through Nicholas Hawksmoor's Carrmire Gate, a rubble-built arch with pyramids, wall, towers and turrets to intersect with Vanbrugh's curtain wall, complete with bastions, mock-fortifications, and eleven different towers. In the centre was the Gatehouse, 'whose massive arch and pyramid [were] Vanbrugh's fanfare to Castle Howard'.8 8 At the intersection of the avenue, on the east-west axis that formed the final approach to the house, was a one hundred foot high obelisk, raised in 1714 as a Column of Victory, ostensibly to celebrate the victories of the Duke of Malborough. Its presence, together with the inscription on its base, formed a Castle Howard Estate Ltd., Castle Howard (1988): 47. The monument was erected in 1869 by public subscription. It indicates the ongoing process by which the aristocracy publicly aggrandized themselves. 32 'suitable introduction to a survey of the domain' to not only provide a fitting tribute to the 3rd. Earl, but also to emphatically imprint his presence as owner of the estate.89 The approaches to many aristocratic eighteenth century country houses would offer carefully planned vistas, designed to terminate in architectural structures such as fountains, classical temples or statuary, often designed by the architect himself. These approaches were meant to impress for, according to the historian, Carole Fabricant, they represented, not only the 'aesthetically-cultivated landed gentleman', but that they were also intended to be a very public presentation of wealth represented in aesthetic terms.90 As Fabricant also suggests, these carefully planned vistas satisfied eighteenth century demands for 'variety' and 'novelty'. Vanbrugh confirmed this when he recorded 'several noble Lords' reactions' to the approach to Castle Howard: They are all vastly surprised and taken with the walls and their towers, which they talk much of. I always thought we were sure of that card.91 In the next century, on her first visit to Blenheim Palace in 1874, Lady Randolph Churchill said of a view created by the eighteenth century landscape artist, 'Capability' Brown, that it had been'painstakingly designed to take your breath away': We passed through the entrance archway, and the lovely scenery burst upon me...Looking at the lake, the bridge, the miles of magnificent park studded with Historic Homes of the United Kingdom (1892) Constance Anderson, "Castle Howard": 199. Charles Howard, 3rd. Earl of Carlisle 1699-1738, builder of Casde Howard. The inscription read, in part: If to perfection these plantations rise If they agreeable my heirs surprise This faithful pillar will their age declare As long as time these characters shall spare Here then with kind remembrance read his name Who for posterity perform'd the same... 9 0 Fabricant, "The Aesthetics and Politics of Landscape in the Eighteenth Century", Studies in 18th. Century BritishArt and Aesthetics (1985): 72. 91 Historic Houses of the United Kingdom (1892) Constance Anderson, "Castle Howard": 199. 33 old oaks...the huge and stately palace, I confess, I felt awed. This is the finest view in England.92 The driveway approach around lakes and over architect-designed bridges, such as those to be found at Blenheim and Kedleston, would allow a dramatic view of the house. Not only were these planned and manipulated approaches to eighteenth century country houses intended to emphasize the status and the significance of estate and owner, but they were also meant to increase frissons of anticipation for the architectural glories to come. By contrast, the approach driveway to nineteenth century Bear Wood was comparatively short.93 Approximately a quarter of a mile long, it led for about 120 yards at a slight south-west angle from the main gate and then straight south for a further 330 yards to the entrance to the courtyard in front of the house. It was sheltered by Wellingtonia trees and shrubs, the former, possibly, an announcement to the arriving visitor that the owner of Bear Wood was a governor of Wellington College.94 Compared to the driveway approaches to earlier country houses, this relatively modest approach was devoid of planned vistas or imposing architectural features. This can be interpreted as an indication that it was not intended to be a means by which to impress the size of the estate, despite it being over 9 2 The Blenheim Estate Office, Blenheim Palace, Woodstock, Oxfordshire (1973): 2. 9 3 This was not through lack of land. A l l the estates considered for this work were of not less than 1,000 acres. John Walter III accumulated 8,000 acres for the Bear Wood estate. See Appendix A. 9 4 Wellington College, a public school attended by the sons of the gentry. On Monday, November 5, 1894, the Times published an obituary for John Walter, "Death of Mr Walter", in which it was noted that Walter took great pride in his governorship of Wellington College and its association with the Duke of Wellington, for whom Walter had 'great admiration'. Perhaps this was that, as a middle class entrepreneur, Walter subscribed to general public admiration for the Duke, the battle victories of whom, it was considered, had started modem Britain on its path to greatness and prosperity. It was also noted that Walter had also planted Wellingtonia trees at the College. Walter's pride in his association with the school would have also referenced the importance that middle class values attached to the benefits of education for its own class. This is suggested, also, by his philanthropic gesture with the construction of a school as part of the estate village of Sindlesham Green, as well as the school built adjacent to St. Paul's church in nearby Wokingham, although F.M.L. Thompson states that the wealthy classes 'thought of school an instrument for conditioning and controlling the lower orders'. The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 145. 34 8,000 acres, or to provide an opportunity to build up any prolonged anticipation about the final arrival at the house. In contrast to the sometimes extravagantly planned approaches to the houses of the aristocracy that publicly associated the owner with elegance and wealth, the driveway to a hidden, private Bear Wood can be seen as an indication that the owner wished to be perceived as a person of both dignity and reserve, characteristics that indicated the demeanour of middle class tenets. Added to the fact that the architectural mien of the single lodge at the entrance gate gave no indication of the significance of the house, the absence of a long and visually-manipulated driveway indicated an adherence to the middle class dogma of restraint. Although there appears to be no documented evidence that Kerr was consulted for the design of the lodge, or for the driveway approach for that matter, it can be presumed that his maxim that 'it must be looked upon as a rule that an English gentleman will desire to avoid obtrusiveness even at the sacrifice of a good deal of that importance' was subscribed to.9 5 At both the approach to the main entrance gate to Bear Wood, as well along the driveway, there was no display or indication of ostentation, or of opulent wealth. Rather, it would appear that the initial approach to the house along the road that bounded the estate was primarily intended to publicly underscore the middle class values to which the owner, in his role of English gentleman, subscribed and by which he would be identified. The fact that a house such as Bear Wood was set behind estate walls, away from public view, approached by a lodge architecturally expressed in the local vernacular and along a relatively short drive acknowledged the deliberate separation of the house from the public, outside domain. This separation provided a means, both physically as well as Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 51. 35 perceptually, by which the private realm could be both disassociated and protected from the public sphere. This intention can be interpreted as the first indication of one of the major tenets on which nineteenth century middle class ideology was based, the maxim of • 9 6 privacy. It was a maxim that was not evident in the previous century for, although the driveway approach considerably distanced country houses and their inhabitants from the outside world, eighteenth century country houses were intended to be the seat of an ostentatious and very public life-style, even if available only to those of 'suitable' rank. There had long been a tradition of allowing suitable persons 'of quality' to tour these country houses and the adjoining parkland, so providing a means by which the erudite acuity and elite status of the owner could be demonstrated by the architecture and the contents of his house, as well as by the size of his estate.97 Writing of the eighteenth century, the historian, Peter Mandler states: ...a remarkable apparatus of country house visiting grew up, held in check only by the still-considerable physical barriers to travel...Visitors were carefully vetted at the lodge gates, their dress, servants, conveyances and calling-cards checked for suitability, before they were shown around house and grounds.. .From the 1760s, guidebooks to individual properties began 98 to appear... Despite their distance from the entrance gates, these country houses were available and were intended to be viewed by others who were outside the immediate circle of family or It is a maxim with which Kerr deals extensively in his book, but particularly in reference to the spatial organization of the interior, which will be referenced in Part IV of this thesis. 9 7 The majority of the country houses owned by aristocrats were open to tourists, although some required written appointments. Traditionally, it had been the upper servants - the butler or the housekeeper - who had conducted the tours, using the 'tips' as a means of supplementing their incomes. At Blenheim, for example, visitors had toured the estate from the time construction had started on the house. Across the centuries, English novelists such as Fielding, Richardson, Jane Austen, Thackeray, H.G. Wells, Galsworthy and Evelyn Waugh all wrote about the country house. Austen, in particular, refers to 18th. century excursions undertaken to tour country houses. 9 8 Mandler, The Rise and Fall of the Stately Home (1997): 9. 36 guests. It was a tradition the aristocratic owners of country houses, unlike contemporary middle class proprietors, were to maintain in the nineteenth century, for many of them continued to open their estates and country houses to visitors. At Blenheim, around mid- century, during the time of the 7th. Duke, a sign inside the Triumphal Arch entrance gate read, 'The Duke of Marlborough begs the persons who may walk through the park to keep to the high road, and not walk on the grass'.99 In 1892 it was noted that 'the master of Belvoir allows the public to see nearly everything of interest in the Castle'.1 0 0 It was a tradition, however, that was not to be adopted by nineteenth century middle class owners of country houses for, despite any historical precedents, the issue of privacy was considered, as Kerr put it, to be ' a first principle with the better classes of English people...'101 The fact that the middle class country house owner did not adopt, carte- blanche, all the practices of his aristocratic predecessors might indicate that he did not wish to be perceived as indiscriminately emulating the habits and traditions that had been seen as part of ownership. Rather than the self-aggrandizement undertaken by the aristocracy, it would appear that, as a disciple of middle class doctrine, the nineteenth century middle class owner wished to proclaim values that focused on the attributes of restraint and privacy in the domestic realm, rather than on providing opportunities for a public display of rank and status. The driveway approach to the house, as in the case of Bear Wood, can be interpreted as a series of successive steps, each a means by which the inhabitants could consider themselves to be protected away from the public domain and the public eye. 9 9 Fowler, Blenheim, Biography of a Palace (1989): 149. The 7th. Duke of Malborough, 1822-1883, sue. 1857. 100 Historic Houses of the United Kingdom (1892) Charles Edwards, "Belvoir Castle": 227. 1 0 1 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 67. 37 The final approach to the entrance facade of Bear Wood from between the border of trees was through a narrow gateway into a courtyard surrounded by an eight foot high wall. There were no tantalizing glimpses of the house, no indication of what was to be expected. It was not until this final rampart had been breached that the full impact of the entrance facade of Bear Wood was revealed. Some 200 feet long and extended for a further 120 feet by the servants' wing to the east of the courtyard, the north facade of the house was four stories high, with cellars beneath. With a staircase tower and gables rising for a further two stories, the sudden revelation of the architectural mass of the house would, undoubtedly, have made an impressive and awesome impact. This entrance front of Bear Wood, by its architecture and by its size, paid tribute to the wealth, the status and the authority of its owner, albeit the impact made by the entrance facade of Bear Wood was the absolute antithesis of the maxims of Robert Kerr, that coupled privacy with the desire to 'avoid obtrusiveness'.102 These maxims were evident in the immediate approach to a house hidden from public view, past an architecturally modest lodge and along an equally modest driveway. However, the impact made by the impressive entrance facade of the house suggests the diversity of nineteenth century middle class tenets that embraced restraint along with the desire to advertise the rewards of successful entrepreneurialism and hard work. 102 Ibid. 38 It would appear that Kerr, as architect of Bear Wood, allowed for both to be accommodated, although never at the expense of that most important middle class tenet, domestic felicity. He instructed his readers: Let it be again remarked that the character of a gentleman-like Residence is not a matter of magnitude, or of costliness... If, on the other hand, the circumstances of the owner and his tastes are such that the magnitude and refinement ought to expand into state, even grandeur must not be pretentious, or wealth ostentatious, and the attributes of an agreeable English home must never be sacrificed.103 103 Ibid: 66. 39 P A R T m T H E E X T E R I O R A R C H I T E C T U R E (3.1) The issue of an architectural style In what Style of Architecture shall you build your house?.. .The architect himself will generally put this query to his client... [who] is expected to make a choice from amongst half-a-dozen prevailing "styles", all more or less antagonistic to each other, all having their respective adherents and opponents, and all very likely to prove more and more unintelligible the longer they are examined... These words, written by Robert Kerr in 1865, indicated that the issue of a distinctive architectural style to be considered representative of nineteenth century England had not been resolved.104 Kerr's statement also indicated that it was an issue that was of much concern for the private, domestic realm as it was for an architectural style considered appropriate for the public sphere. The issue surrounding an architectural style to characterize the nineteenth century had been inaugurated in the latter part of the previous century, when a changing social structure instigated, in large part by an emerging middle class, had fostered notions of an impending age that was to be both new and different. Debate centred around what would be taxonomically identifiable with the vigourous and vibrant nineteenth century with which the middle class, in particular, identified itself. It was anticipated that the new style was to be the antithesis, as Kerr was later to note, of the 'chaste, elegant, but rather feeble' architecture that had represented the 'philistinism of the Georgians'.105 1 0 4 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 340. 105 "English Architecture Thirty Years Hence ". A speech read by Kerr in 1884. Quoted in Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972): 293. 40 The architecture associated with this earlier age was to be replaced by one that would reflect a social order becoming increasingly more influenced by the middle class and its values. Such values founded on virtues that included national pride, industry and ambition, an honest common sense, pious Protestant Christianity and domestic felicity had, according to historian, Richard Article created a 'moral climate in which rectitude, chastity and seriousness had replaced easy going sexual attitudes and gay cynicism'.106 Added to this was a class that considered itself to be synonymous with the progressive, modern Victorian era, a perception endorsed by Kerr who, in 1846 in his overviews of contemporary architectural styles in Newleafe Discourses, had referred to the middle class as 'us railway travelling, Reform-bill people'.107 On the one hand, there were those who, as the architectural theorist, Peter Collins notes, championed the revival of 'one particular period in history as a pure source of inspiration'.108 Architects who supported this faction showed a cornmitment to a particular historical style, be it classical Roman or Greek, the Renaissance, Old English Elizabethan and Jacobean, or Gothic.1 0 9 In country house architecture, William Wilkins, for example, had continued his commitment to the classical Greek Revival Style with The Grange in the early years of the century. Nearly forty years later, Frederick Pepys Cockerell was to design Down Hall as 'a symmetrical, classical house'.110 Salvin referenced the Tudor for such country houses as Scotney Castle in 1837 and Peckforton Castle in mid-century. At the 1 0 6 Altick, Victorian People and Ideas(1973): 3. 1 0 7 Published in 1846. Quoted in Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972): 219. 1 0 8 Collins, Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture (1965): 118-119. 1 0 9 Girouard states that 'classical styles were losing ground all the time'. The Victorian Country House (1979): 52. 1 1 0 Ibid.: 404. 41 same time, A.W.N. Pugin demonstrated his advocacy for the Gothic at Scarisbrick. For these architects, there was just one distinctly representative style. In contention there were architects who considered that 'all styles were of equal value, and that the whole notion of stylistic integrity or stylistic tradition was an illusion'.1 1 1 Architects who represented this faction did not commit to any specific historical style, but referenced a variety, generally according to the demands of their clients. Sir Charles Barry, for instance, produced two designs for Wollaton, the first in 1838 in the Palladian style, the second two years later in the English Elizabethan tradition.112 It was a rivalry that, as Stevenson observed, 'obscured and rendered almost impossible, an answer to the question' of what constituted an architectural style representative of nineteenth century England.113 By mid-century, however, although Ken- indicated that the issue of a distinct architectural style for the era had not been resolved, a consensus between the contending parties had been reached. At this time, the consensus for many was for Eclecticism, defined by Collins as the taking of 'tectonic elements from every style and re-amalgamating them according to contemporary needs.114 In this, Collins echoes Kerr, who had determined Eclecticism to be a 'novel but striking doctrine' that used various architectural models 'indiscriminately and interchangeably' so that it was a 'style of miscellaneous connoisseurship'.115 Stevenson, in turn, saw it as a 'rich pictorial confusion that expressed the spirit of the times'.116 He also appeared to accept the consensus of Eclecticism as a befitting resolution of the issue around an architectural style representative 1 1 1 Collins, Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture (1.965): 117'. 1 1 2 Harris, The Architect and the British Country House (1985): 216. 1 1 3 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7(1880): 25. 1 1 4 Collins, Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture (1965): 118-119. 1 1 5 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 49-50 & 342-343. 1 1 6 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. I (1880): 62. 42 of the era for, as he noted, 'there are probably too many opposing modes of thought at present for one style to be a suitable expression of them a l l ' . 1 1 7 Despite this, Stevenson expressed some pessimism about the eclectic approach: We have cut ourselves loose from tradition. Instead of accepting and trustfully following the ways and customs handed down to us, we claim to be absolute judges of right, and make our individual preferences laws. It would need omniscience not to fail. 1 1 8 However, whatever the architectural style, Stevenson felt it should 'express our present civilisation, our modern feelings and ways of thinking'.119 If nineteenth century needs and 'modern ways of thinking' are defined in terms of the middle class and its values, then this architectural eclecticism might be seen to reflect both its heterogeneity and the various ways in which it represented itself. This was particularly true' in private, domestic architecture where, in contrast to public buildings, there was the freedom for an independence of spirit that allowed for the expression of personal predilections of taste. The individual tastes expressed in domestic architecture were a means by which many of the values of an owner could be demonstrated. The compromise that was Eclecticism was a multi-layering of styles, incorporated into one building. Pevsner reiterates an analysis of nineteenth century architecture given by the contemporary critics, Redgrave and Wornum, who described the eclectic style as free and mixed Renaissance... a modern adaptation of Classicism (primarily Italian) received through a French channel, but with a treatment 'throughout English, massive and bold, picturesque even, when required, substantial and unaffected...120 1 1 7 Ibid.: 120. 1 1 8 Ibid.: 14. 1 1 9 Ibid.: 121. 1 2 0 Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972): 234. 43 'And this', continues Pevsner, with reference to Redgrave and Wornum, 'is the perfect definition of Kerr's chef-d'oeuvre, Bearwood...very large, very sensibly planned but externally an ill-disciplined [architectural] mixture,..121 Despite Pevsner's inference that the architectural style of Bear Wood was 'ill-disciplined' and despite Kerr's assertion that the 'present practice of Eclecticism...adopts... [styles] quite indiscriminately and interchangeably', it could be argued that the choice was not random, that instead, it was an architectural compromise, a response to the debates at hand. The following analysis of the exterior of Bear Wood will confirm this. In spite of what Pevsner perceives to be a capricious choice of eclectic architectural styles, or what Kerr theorized to be the indiscriminate interchanging of different styles, in the architecture of a nineteenth century country house like Bear Wood, can be detected very specific meanings and associations. It will be argued that the incorporation of various styles suggests many of the values to which the middle class owner subscribed and, as such, conveyed much of what the nineteenth century social order represented. 1 2 1 Ibid. 44 P A R T I Q T H E E X T E R I O R A R C H I T E C T U R E (3.2) The North Entrance Front Like many country houses built by the nineteenth century middle class, the immediate approach to Bear Wood appeared to be discrete and unmanipulated. However, the contrast made by the vigorous impact of the sudden revelation of the massive north front of the house can be seen as a public and definite pronouncement of prestige and splendour: the rewards of the entrepreneurial acumen of the owner. Added to this was the inference that such rewards could be similarly achieved through hard and judicious work and the application of diligence and tenacity. The description that the nineteenth century critics, Redgrave and Wornum gave to contemporary architecture as 'massive', 'bold' and 'substantial' could well have applied to the impressive size of the entrance facade of Bear Wood. 1 2 2 Over three hundred feet in length, the north front supported a staircase 'some 30 feet square at the base', with a porte- cochere and window bays of similar width.1 2 3 The four-storey facade was increased for a further two stories by the height of the staircase tower and facade gables. Although not as large as eighteenth century Castle Howard, Holkham or Kedleston, the impressive size of Bear Wood was, in the same way as were these earlier country houses, material evidence of wealth that, in turn, conferred an elitist status on their owners. Added to this were perceptions of power and authority that, by tradition, were considered the right and the duty of the owners to exercise; As a holder of public office, an owner 1 2 2 Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972): 234. 1 2 3 The Builder, "Bearwood", June 6, 1868. 45 dispensed temporal justice, often from within the house itself, whereas a domestic chapel or estate church meant he held religious authority over his household and tenants. Traditionally, country houses could be viewed by the public. Particularly in the eighteenth century, this was considered a means by which the significance of the owner could be advertised. In addition to his status, power and authority and his wealth, it was intended that the house represent the eighteenth century owner as a cosmopolitan, well- travelled Man of Taste, long-established and recognized as a leader in society, elegant, confident in his superiority and of his rightful place at the apex of the social order. Although not intended to be seen by the public visitor, Bear Wood was also intended to convey meanings beyond those of status and wealth. The nineteenth century middle class identified itself with the greatness of the nation. This, translated into patriotism, contributed towards a nostalgia for England's past, the glories of which the middle class associated with its own times and own achievements. Contemporary feelings of patriotism, interpreted into architectural form required, as the nineteenth century architectural critics, Redgrave and Worrium noted, an architecture perceived as being 'throughout English'.1 2 4 As such, architecture was to reflect prevalent feelings of patriotism and to reject as un-English and alien, the classically inspired architecture associated with the previous century. Pevsner's assertion that Redgrave and Wornum's analysis of nineteenth century architecture was the 'perfect definition of Bear Wood' indicates the eclectic incorporation of architectural styles that included 'a modern adaptation of Classicism (primarily Italian) received through a French channel..'125 This 'French channel', represented by French 1 2 4 Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972): 237. 46 Renaissance architectural elements, are evident on the exterior. There is, for example, the steep-pitch of the roof line, inset dormer windows and the steep, four-sided turret roof above the entrance tower. How, then, could this apparent contraction between an architecture that referenced the French, be compatible with the suggestion that the middle class owner be represented as a patriotic English gentleman? Kerr appeared to overcome this contradiction by a process of theoretical transmogrification, whereby he translated French Renaissance as 'English Renaissance'. This was legitimate, he argued, because the transmogrification of the French, or even the Italian Renaissance, into the 'English Renaissance' was a process legitimated by common usage. Kerr termed this 'English practice'.126 That this might be a specious argument was evident to his professional peers. For instance, the reviewer of The Gentleman's House in the February 18, 1865 edition of The Builder brought Kerr to task for his logic, noting that the 'circumlocution' of his designation of 'English Renaissance' to what were obviously foreign architectural references meant that he was 'likely to mislead' and that his assertions were 'erroneous'. An additional explanation as to why French Renaissance architectural elements were incorporated into Bear Wood is that the style may have had some association with the great urban hotels. As Girouard points out, by 1863, 'French style' had become the 'pre- eminent' architecture for many hotels that 'offered the latest refinements of luxury and technology to a predominantly middle class clientele [and] underlined the fact that London was now the commercial centre of the world'.1 2 7 Often attached to a railway station, these hotels offered a refuge and a retreat from the vicissitudes of travel, in the same way that the Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 365. Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1979): 293. 47 middle class perceived their homes to be a refuge and retreat from the tribulations of the outside world. As a business man, active in the progressive, modern world of commerce, John Walter was also considered to be 'technically-minded'.128 The fact that Bear Wood referenced elements of the French Renaissance style of architecture, that the latest technology was used for its construction and the conveniences installed inside the house, indicates that Walter could well have been influenced by these London hotels.129 This is especially likely for, in travelling from Paddington station to his home near Reading, John Walter would have been familiar with the architecture and the 'refinements of luxury' of the hotel that formed part of the Paddington railway terminus.130 Nineteenth century references to English architecture, be they direct or transmogrified through Kerr's process of the 'common usage' of 'English practice', were also the result of the effects of industrialization during the nineteenth century. These effects, combined with increasing urbanization, contributed to a nostalgia for England's past, particularly for rural traditions and their association with a simpler life now lost to the speed and sophistication of an industrialized world. In architectural terms, this nostalgia, this looking back towards the past, resulted in an architecture that was perceived to reflect Old England. References to the Elizabethan and its associations with the glory of that past age and its prodigy country houses, were considered particularly appropriate for their nineteenth century counterparts. There was also an element of nationalism in such references. As Ken- noted about the Elizabethan, 'there is, in fact, a strong nationality in it. Here was a style 128 129 130 The Times, "Death of Mr Walter", November 5, 1894. The issues of technology, comfort and convenience will be discussed in Part IV of this thesis. The Great Western Hotel at Paddington was in the French Renaissance style. 48 which was without dispute the unimported product of the soil...' 1 3 1 He pointed out, however, that he and his architectural peers translated, rather than made authentic references, to the past. As he noted, the 'authentic architecture of the period exhibits nothing like the intentional irregularity' of the style used in his 'modern' age.132 Based on this, Kerr's interpretation of the style for the entrance porch at Bear Wood can be seen to exactly fit requirements in that it 'exhibit certain leading principles, which distinguish the new Elizabethan from the old'. As he wrote: ...in modern designs...it is generally deemed desirable to produce a certain amount - frequently a very considerable amount - of positive intentional irregularity...in the Entrance-tower there is presented an instance.. .whereby the building is sought to be grouped, by the formation of one prominent feature, at a prominent point iri the composition, and that point not a central point.133 At Bear Wood, Kerr grouped a projecting entrance porch between the mass of the staircase tower and a gabled bay window so that it was a prominent feature exactly opposite the entrance gateway leading into the forecourt. To the supposition that this reference to Elizabethan architecture inferred associations with past greatness, can be added the suggestion that Bear Wood be regarded as a 'seat of hospitality'.134 This, as it has been noted, was a wish expressed by the owner, one that reflected the middle class ethos that the home be considered a welcoming refuge. Perhaps it was that Kerr intended to infer this with the entrance porch offset exactly 1 3 1 Kerr, The Gentleman'sHouse (1865): 351. 1 3 2 Ibid: 352. 1 3 3 Ibid. 1 3 4 Expressed by John Walter at the ceremony marking the completion of the house. Reported in The Builder, June 6, 1868. Henry-Russell Hitchcock writes of die 'disarmingly middle class inscription, 'welcome' in large letters' on the small gatehouse entrance to Tortworth Court, designed by S.S. Teulon for the Earl of Ducie. Early Victorian Architecture in Britain (1954): 236. 49 opposite the main gateway to Bear Wood so that it appear to reach out to 'embrace' and welcome the arriving visitor. Nostalgia for England had also been fuelled in the first decades of the century by, for instance, the literary works of Sir Walter Scott as 'the inspiration behind the.. .idealization of the age of chivalry'.135 Alongside this was 'the actual and enormous influence' of Ruskin, who based his doctrine on the 'principal centres' of 'Truth, Beauty and Morality'.1 3 6 Architecture, noted Ruskin, should be an 'expression of a whole way of life' as well as a reflection of the 'spiritual goodness' of the architect.137 Persistent in his doctrine, Ruskin was an influential advocate for the revival of Gothic architecture, a style he considered to be the embodiment of 'true Christian feelings'.138 In his theoretical discourse, Kerr itemized the 'characteristics of the Gothic manner, as applied to domestic building in England' for his readers. Many of the Gothic 'characteristics' itemized by Kerr can be identified in the north facade of Bear Wood. There was, for example, evidence of an 'intentional irregularity of plan' which included an 'intentional variety in height' in the roofscape; a 'general verticality of features, emphasized, for instance by the narrow, vertical windows of the staircase tower and the pinnacles surmounting the parapets of the staircase and entrance towers. The incorporation of architectural elements into Bear Wood to which Gothic characteristics can be applied, might be interpreted as an indication that Kerr wished to acknowledge the Christian principles to which the owner subscribed.139 However, the mere Altick, Victorian People and Ideas (1973): 5. Ladd, The Victorian Morality of Art (1968): 3. Williams, Culture and Society (1958): 145 & 137. Ibid. It has been noted that John Walter HI, built a church and other ecclesiastical buildings. 50 evidence of the Gothic cannot be considered sufficient to substantiate this, particularly as, in itemizing Gothic architectural characteristics, Kerr made no reference to Christian principles.140 Perhaps it was that Kerr employed the references to the Gothic more for its aesthetic appeal than for any religious connotation. Or perhaps it was, as Stevenson observed, that the incorporation of such architectural elements into Bear Wood can be attributed to the fact that the 'freedom of the Gothic' had 'got rid of the trammels of Classical rule'.1 4 1 As Kerr, himself, had written: The nineteenth century has introduced Gothicism; it is a powerful, uncompromising, resolute, and sometimes insolent insurrection against this Classicism...142 An equally nebulous association between Bear Wood and another of Ruskin's basic principles of Gothic architecture, that of Truth, can be examined. Stevenson was to emulate Ruskin with his mandate that 'materials should show themselves to be what they really are'.1 4 3 If Kerr did have any intentions of implying the principles of truth, of the honesty of construction to the house, then they might be identified in the exposed brickwork of the facade. Rather than be masked by the deceit of stucco, as had been the practice in the previous century, the brickwork of the main house was only partially concealed by decorative stone dressings. The brickwork of the servants' wing was completely exposed. Whether the exposure of brickwork at Bear Wood was intended to emulate Ruskin's notion of Truth cannot be ascertained. However, from the descriptive vocabulary appropriated to him, it would appear that John Walter III would have considered that he represented the 1 4 0 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): Chapter IX, 367-373. 1 4 1 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7(1880): 331. 1 4 2 Kerr, "English Architecture Thirty Years Hence " in Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972): 295. 1 4 3 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7(1880): 28. , 51 honest, upright, moral integrity by which the middle class wished to be identified.144 Or, perhaps it was that the completely exposed, unadorned brickwork of the servants' swing, was intended to confirm hierarchical differences between the status of the owner and that of the servants. There can be little doubt that John Walter wished to not only proclaim his status and wealth, but also to represent himself as a vigourous, dignified and responsible member of the middle class. This can be surmized from the impression conveyed by the north entrance front of Bear Wood. The impact it made upon arrival with its massive, impressive size displayed the authority, the importance and the vivacity with which the middle class identified itself. Likewise, the square solidity Of the staircase and the porte-cochere, the sharp triangular gables, the serried rows of pinnacles surmounting the parapets of the towers, all contributed to the impression of an aggressive and solid masculinity. The shape of the carved shields above the entrance suggested military connotations and an associative masculinity. Such proclamations represented an age of which Kerr said, 'there may be a certain vigour of manliness reserved for the English, which, in an age of increasing manliness arid increasing English influence, shall accomplish unexpected results'.145 As Girouard now notes, this 'vigorous school in architecture goes with the Victorian cult of manliness... of physical and moral fibre'.146 Although Pevsner might claim that the incorporation of a range of eclectic architectural elements into Bear Wood was 'ill-disciplined', the choice was not random. 1 4 4 See Dictionary of National Biography, Walter John 1818-1894 & The Times, "Death of Mr Walter", November 5, 1894. 1 4 5 Kerr, "English Architecture Thirty Years Hence " in Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century(1972): 308. 1 4 6 . Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1979): 56. 52 The various interpretations that can be applied to the different architectural styles represent many of the middle class values upheld by both owner and architect. However, like the competing voices that had resulted in a consensus for eclectic architecture, there would appear to be no coherent statement discernible in the architectural styles evident in the entrance facade of Bear Wood. Despite the initial impression of status and wealth, there are other messages that can be extrapolated from the architecture, all of which combine to represent a middle class that, both complex and diverse, embodied much of the nineteenth century social order. 53. P A R T m T H E E X T E R I O R A R C H I T E C T U R E (3.3) The south garden front If the architectural references on the north entrance facade of Bear Wood indicated a public proclamation of certain middle class tenets, then the south garden front might be seen to represent the private, domestic realm. This would support the argument that many of the values to which a nineteenth century middle class country house owner subscribed were expressed in diverse ways in architectural form. Turned away from public view as the house was approached, the south front of Bear Wood stood high overlooking a terrace and gardens leading down to a lake and across the estate. This garden aspect would suggest associations with the feminine, an inference suggested by Ruskin with his notions of femininity linked with nature. In Sesame and Lilies, for instance, he wrote of 'womanly beauty..! wish you specially to notice:- "Three years she grew in sun and shower"...Observe', wrote Ruskin, 'it is Nature who is speaking throughout and who says, "while she and I live together'".147 Both Kerr and Stevenson reiterated this concept in an architectural context. Kerr equated the aspect for a house directed towards the 'sunshine', the 'lawn', or the 'flower-garden' with the 'ladylike' connotations of 'salubrity', 'cheerfulness' and 'lightness', notions with which Stevenson 1 4 7 Ruskin, Sesame and LUies (1887): 141. With 'womanly beauty', Ruskin is referring to beauty of the soul, associated with the role of the woman in the domestic realm, rather than to physical beauty. References cited for two of Ruskin's books, Sesame and Lilies and Queen of the Air are from 1887 publications, although Ruskin noted in Preface (p. viii) of the latter that he had written it in May, 1869 from work 'begun thirty years ago'. The Preface to Sesame and Lilies (Eighth Edition in Original Form with New Preface) is dated August 24, 1883. It is, therefore, assumed that the influence of Ruskin's work had been in effect for some 50 years before the 1887 edition. 54 concurred.148 These associations of femininity with domesticity are attested to by Girouard, who 'suspects' that Kerr, in contrast to the massive, rigorous masculinity of the architecture of the north facade, wanted the south garden front at Bear Wood to be 'gracious and feminine'.149 The same impression of size given from the driveway approach to the house remained, for the south front stretched along a terrace for nearly 300 feet, to terminate in a water tower and the domestic offices. However, unlike the entrance facade, it would appear that the architecture employed for this garden front was not intended to make the same vigorous impact. In contrast to the square solidity of the main staircase tower, the porte-cochere and window bays, the sharp triangular gables and the aggressive serried row of pinnacles reaching upwards from the staircase and entrance porch towers, this south elevation was surmounted by curved gables that reflected, 'the curves of nature'.150 In a Ruskinian-type association of the feminine with nature, the recessed arched gables were surmounted by carved stone cartouches. However, unlike the crested shields on the entrance facade with their reference to the military, these round and trefoil shapes followed the 'curves of nature'.151 As Stevenson affirmed, one of the primary aims of nineteenth century middle class domestic architecture and ornament was 'to express our domestic life'. 1 5 2 The suggestion that this be referenced by nature can be endorsed by the architectural ornament. The carved foliage in the garden facade gables, for instance, 1 4 8 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865) & Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. II (1880). Both Kerr and Stevenson particularly referred to these issues in relation to the aspect of rooms designated for use by the female, such as the drawing room and the boudoir. The issue of gender-designated rooms will be addressed in Part IV. 1 4 9 Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1974): 122. 1 5 0 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7(1880): 47. 1 5 1 Ibid. 1 5 2 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7(1880): 69. 55 'followed the spirit of nature', as did the trefoil cartouches, a shape that, according to Stevenson, would have been 'directly borrowed from the trefoiled grasses of the fields'.153 A small tower set into the roofline, as well as the young ladies' staircase tower, were both topped with curved cupolas surmounted by ornamental wrought iron weather vanes. The parapet of the garden staircase tower, unlike the entrance staircase tower which soared above the roofline, was in line with the roof parapet, thus imposing no aggressive interruption on the facade. The four-sided pyramid roof of the garden staircase tower had only corner pinnacles, rather than the serried row on the north towers. Likewise, the parapet of the water tower had just corner pinnacles. The window bays on the south front were angled at the sides, with the one on the immediate west side of the house in a demi- lune curve. Rather than the impression of the stolid, square 'boldness, breadth, strength, sternness and virility' given by the north facade, there appeared to be on the south front, with its curved gables and its angled window bays, a movement, an undulation, a rhythm along the length of the house.154 In the architectural details of the south garden front with, for example, the curved gables, with the seemingly rhythmic effect of the facade and with the cupola-topped towers, architectural references might be made to the Elizabethan.155 However, rather than it being a patriotic reference to the 'glorious old English times', as has been suggested for its incorporation into the entrance facade, references to the Elizabethan evident in the gables and cupola roofs of the garden facade reflected Kerr's description of a style he considered 1 5 3 Ibid.: 47 & 48. 1 5 4 Kerr used this terminology in his 1884 retrospective of architecture. Kerr, "English Architecture Thirty Years Hence " in Pevsner, Some Architectural Writers of the Nineteenth Century (1972): 296. 1 5 5 In Country Life, "Bear Wood, Berkshire -1" (October 17, 1968): 965, Girouard considers it to be an amalgamation of Elizabethan and Jacobean, which he refers to as 'Jacobethan'. 56 to offer 'variety which is permanently charming...unostentatious and subdued...refined and rendered graceful...and the elegancies of repose elaborated'.156 Both architectural expression and vocabulary suggest nineteenth century notions of the feminine. Further evidence indicates that Kerr intended the south front of Bear Wood to represent the private, domestic facade of the house. The roof tower, with its cupola roof and ornamental weather vane, was located immediately above the second floor rooms allocated for the private use of the family.157 The design of this tower was repeated in the tower at the end of the domestic wing. Perhaps it was that Kerr wished to associate the domestic connotations associated with this wing with the south front in which the family rooms were located. That the south front should be considered 'gracious and feminine' was also supported by the installation of two carved angels on the garden entrance to the house.158 Of this statuary, The Builder reported. At the garden entrance, of which a view may be found in the present exhibition of the Royal Academy, two figures of considerable beauty, Night and Morning, modelled, but not yet put into stone, will form a portion of the doorway.159 Again, it might appear that Kerr was influenced by Ruskin upon whom Coventry Patmore's poem, "The Angel in the House" had made an impression.160 The doorway guarded by the angels at Bear Wood, unlike that at the main entrance made aggressively prominent with the porte-cochere extending out into the approach courtyard, was recessed into an entrance 1 5 6 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 351. 1 5 7 A study of these family rooms, that included the nursery, the family bedroom, boudoir and the young ladies apartments will be undertaken in Part IV. 158 The Builder, June 6, 1868, "Bearwood". 1 5 9 Ibid. 1 6 0 Coventry Patmore (1823-1896) wrote "The Angel in the House" in 1854. Quoted by Ruskin in Sesame and Lilies (1887): 133. 57 porch in the facade between two bay windows, both of which angled in towards the domestic interior. This might be interpreted that the angels guarded the entrance to the inner sanctum where, in Ruskinian terms, the 'greatest treasure' was to be found in the domestic realm.161 The contrasts in architectural styles between the north and south facades of Bear Wood were not evident in country houses of the eighteenth century. At Kedleston, for example, Adam designed the north entrance front in the Neo-Classical manner to be the 'grandest Palladian facade in Britain'.1 6 2 For the south garden facade, he also referenced the classical, with the central feature based on the Arch of Constantine in Rome, combined with the low-stepped dome of the Pantheon.163 Kedleston, like most eighteenth century country houses, could be viewed by the public visitor, so it might be presumed that both approach and garden facades were designed to be a monumental and grandiose display of the aesthetic sensibilities of the owner, a means by which the power and the prestige associated with country house ownership could be reinforced. As at Blenheim Palace, Castle Howard and Basildon Park, where both approach and garden fronts also referenced classical architecture, these facades were intended to be a public affirmation of the status and erudite acuity of the owners. Unlike the inferences apparent in the garden facade of nineteenth century Bear Wood, there was no reference to middle class tenets that alluded to the private, the domestic, or that appeared to have associative connotations with the 'gracious and feminine'.164 1 6 1 In "Of Queens' Gardens", Sesame and Lilies (1887) Ruskin states that 'woman's true place and power' is in the home: 138. 1 6 2 Quoted in The National Trust, Kedleston Hall, Derbyshire (1993): 10. 1 6 3 Ibid. 1 6 4 Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1974): 122. 58 The use of ornament in domestic architecture has always been considered a means by which status and taste could be advertised, a notion as appropriate to nineteenth century country houses as it was to those of the previous century.165 As Collins states, 'the essence of architectural ornament...is that it was symbolic', that it symbolized power.166 However, it would appear that, anxious to express a separate and specific identity of class, nineteenth century middle class country house owners adopted styles of domestic architecture and ornament that were intended to represent their values, as well as their individual predilections of taste. Like their predecessors, it was a taste made confident by their wealth and their perceived place in the social order. The fact that nineteenth century taste has been seen as 'strident' and 'abundant' might be equated to a contemporary increase in consumerism, particularly by the wealthy middle class.167 It was an increase that reflected England's continuing prosperity for, as Ruskin noted, 'the wealth of a nation is only estimated by what it consumes'.168 As the nineteenth century progressed, advances in manufacturing processes and transportation made the acquisition of material goods more readily available. However, the 'singularities', the 'novelties' and the 'gaudiness' evident in the goods produced were of concern to Ruskin, who admonished that they were 'corrupting of public taste', as well as 'encouraging public extravagance'.169 1 6 5 Collins offers this interpretation in Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture (1965): 124. 1 6 6 Ibid.: 127. 1 6 7 Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1979): 54. 1 6 8 Quoted in Macleod, Art and the Victorian Middle Class (1976): 209. Macleod states that Ruskin echoed the economists Smith and M i l l . 1 6 9 Ruskin made these observations in a speech to manufacturers in Bradford. Quoted in Williams, Culture & Society (1958): 144. 59 Despite Ruskin's concern, the 'extravagant public' could justify both their consumerism and their abundant use of ornament. In 1856, had. not Owen Jones, for example, stated that 'ornament must necessarily increase with all peoples in the ratio to the progress of civilization'?170 Hence, under Jones' rubric that the use of ornament be considered the 'natural result of cultural evolution', middle class consumers could be confident that they represented the zenith of the evolutionary process.171 Unrestricted by the parameters imposed by references to the classical, they could represent their predilections of taste with eclectic and individualistic choices. As Gottfried Semper noted in 1869, the 'striving for individuality tends to express itself in adornment'.172 In eighteenth century houses, the classical exterior architecture was either severely unadorned, as at Holkham, even though, as Stevenson acknowledged, the 'mere arrangement.of masses of building' could produce the 'artistic effects' of ornament.173 Others carried applied ornamentation that referenced the classical, as at Castle Howard and Kedleston, with the Greek fret ornament, honeysuckle, the acanthus leaf, or statuary on the parapets and pediments of the buildings, all of which carried connotations of aristocratic taste.174 By the Victorian era, such architectural ornament was considered un-English, it had no associations with the English countryside and was, thus, not representative of the spirit of the age, or of nineteenth century middle class tastes or values. 1 7 0 Owen Jones, "Grammar of Ornament", quoted in Collins, Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture (1965): 124. 1 7 1 Ibid. 1 7 2 Quoted in Collins, Changing Ideals in Modern Architecture (1965): 124. 1 7 3 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7(1880): 44. 1 7 4 Blenheim Palace, in addition to military references, such as the British Lion mauling the French Cockerel, also carried classical statuary as exterior ornamentation. 60 The eclectic range of architectural styles evident in nineteenth century country houses reflected the similar range of ornamentation applied to the facades. The use of colour as a form of architectural ornament on nineteenth century country houses like the polychrome brick Elvetham Hall, or the diapered red and white facade of Wyfold Court could, perhaps, have been justified as an expression of moral and spiritual integrity.175 As Ruskin had noted in Stones of Venice, 'the purest and most thoughtful minds are those which love colour best'.176 Conversely, however, such strident use of colour might be seen as an expression of individual taste, a striving for individuality. Compared to such as Elvetham or Wyfold, the exterior facades of Bear Wood were relatively discrete. Apart from the stone crests on both north and south facades and the carved foliage on the garden front gables, the architectural ornamentation for Bear Wood was of Mansfield stone dressings that, on the main part of the house, partially concealed the brickwork. Single string coursings in the brickwork that delineated the floors were the only ornamentation applied to the domestic wing. The contrasts between this relatively subdued ornament on Bear Wood and the more strident ornamentation on other contemporary country houses demonstrated, not only individual predilections in taste, but also the many ways in which the nineteenth century middle class represented themselves. As Stevenson noted, architectural ornament was individual, an 'expression of themselves'.177 This might be applied to Bear Wood, where it would appear there was a very specific attempt on the part of Kerr as architect, to portray 1 7 5 Elvetham Hall, built between 1859 & 1862 by S.S. Teuton for the newly ennobled Lord Calthorpe, made prosperous from investing in Egbaston, a suburb of the industrial city of Birmingham. Wyfold Court, built between 1872 & 1876 by G. Somers Clarke for Edward Hermon, M.P. and cotton manufacturer. 1 7 6 Ruskin, Stones of Venice, Chapter 5, quoted in Garrigan, Ruskin on Architecture (1973): 43. 1 7 7 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7(1880): 69. 6 1 his patron in a particular way. It would seem that John Walter was to be represented as the epitome of dignified, serious and refined ideals, the personification of a responsible, middle class gentleman owner of a country house. In his advice for the'house of a gentleman', Kerr wrote: ...the higher the standard of intellectual eminence, and the more overflowing the supplies of material wealth, the more decided may be the reactionary principle...it involves finish, precision, delicacy, and repose without Ostentation of any kind; it is not rich, or elaborate, or sumptuous or gay; it is subdued . power which corresponds to cultivated, perhaps satiated, taste.178 It would appear that he put his advice into practice at Bear Wood. While the size of the house leaves no doubt as to the wealth and status of the owner, the architectural ornamentation can be seen as a means by which the owner, like other contemporary middle class country house owners, represented both the tenets he endorsed, as well as his personal and individual tastes and predilections. Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 86. 61b Figure 6 61c 62 PART IV T H E DOMESTIC INTERIOR (4.1) Robert Kerr's consideration of the domestic interior and the primacy of spatial organization Let it be again remarked that the character of a gentleman-like Residence is not a matter of magnitude or costliness, but of design...The qualities which an English gentleman of the present day values in his house are comprehensively these :- Quiet comfort for his family and guests, - Thorough convenience for his domestics, - Elegance and importance without ostentation.179 In a book that offers a wide range and detail of information, from an historical overview of the development of the domestic house to notes on architectural style, from a treatise on considerations of aspect to advice on a system for calculating costs, the major attention given by Robert Kerr in The Gentleman's House was on what he termed his "Part Second. The Principles of Plan as Now Established". In the introduction to this section, Kerr clearly advocated that the 'maxims of design' to be considered were the principles applied to the interior plan. These, he noted, were the key principles, although he acknowledged the merits of architectural style, the use of the most modern and scientific methods of construction, as well as the investment to be expended. To further support to his belief in the primacy of the 'maxims of design', he added that 'nothing...will be held to compensate for the want of these less striking but more fastidious characteristics'. In reviewing the book, The Builder noted that, for Kerr, it was 'a new era in domestic plan', to be considered under the categories which he laid out as:180 179 180 Kerr, the Gentleman's House (1865): 66. The Builder, "The Gentleman's House", January 28, 1865: 58. 63 Privacy. Comfort. Convenience. Spaciousness Compactness Light and air. For the further edification and instruction of his readers, Kerr examined and exemplified each of these listed 'fastidious characteristics', followed by an equally detailed analysis of each of the domestic spaces he designated for a specific use. It might then be assumed that the detailed and dogmatic attention Kerr gave to the principles of the spatial organization of the domestic interior embodied nineteenth century middle class ideals that the home of an 'English gentleman' should accommodate and implement the tenets to which he commonly subscribed. Salubrity. Aspect and prospect. Cheerfulness. Elegance. Importance. Ornament.181 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 67. 64 P A R T I V T H E D O M E S T I C I N T E R I O R (4.2) Issues of domesticity, the family unit and domestic felicity O f the many and diverse ideologies appropriated since the nineteenth century to the middle class it is the institution of the home, with its attendant perceptions of the family unit, that provided a cornerstone on which the identity of that class was constructed. A t the turn of the nineteenth century, new perceptions of the family unit, particularly among the more affluent, developed and progressed to culminate, as the social historian, Joan Perkin suggests, in the 'Victorian family' winning a 'reputation as a noble institution upon whose countenance depended all that was fine and stable in B r i t a i n ' . 1 8 2 During the course of the nineteenth century, the influence of such major social critics as John Ruskin supported notions of domestic felicity and the domestic sphere as being the foundation on which the greatness of the nation was sustained. Perceptions o f the domestic sphere as a sanctuary, a refuge, with the family incubated from the anxieties of the outside world, is made clear, for example, in two lectures delivered by Ruskin, published jointly under the title of Sesame and Lilies.183 O f the family unit and the 'true nature of the home', he wrote: - it is the place of Peace; the shelter, not only from all injury, but from all terror, doubt and division. In so far as it is not this, it is not home; so far as the anxieties of the outer life penetrate into it, and the inconsistently-minded, unknown, unloved, or hostile society of the outer world is allowed by either husband or wife to cross the threshold, it ceases to be home; it is then only a part of that outer world which you have roofed over, and lighted fire in. By 1 8 2 Perkin, Victorian Women (1993): 74. 1 8 3 The two lectures were: "Of Kings' Treasures" & "Of Queen's Gardens". As has been noted, it is presumed that the influence of Ruskin's work had been in effect for some time before 1887. 65 so far as it is a sacred place, a vestal temple, a temple of the hearth watched over by Household Gods, before whose faces none may come but those they can receive with love, - so far as it is this, and roof and fire are types only of a nobler shade and light, - shade as of the rock in a weary land, and light as of the Pharos in the stormy sea; - so far it vindicates the name, and fulfils the praise, of Home.184 It was a sentiment both endorsed and manifested during the nineteenth century so that, as architectural historian, Annmarie Adams has since noted, the institution of the family home was to become established as a 'separate sphere, a product of the so-called cult of domesticity', that provided an isolated refuge.185 This separation provided the middle class with a means by which, both conceptually and physically, it could identify itself as being apart from other social classes. In contrast to the more public lifestyle practiced by the affluent in the domestic realm in earlier centuries, the spatial organization of a middle class family home was adapted to new and very specific ways to accommodate the domestic unit By 1880, this had been confirmed by J.J. Stevenson, who acknowledged that an overview of'house-planning' provided a means by which the 'social condition and family life' could be realized in architectural form.186 In the previous century, details of architectural design and spatial organization, particularly in the homes of the wealthy, had been concerned with the aesthetic rather than with the practical or the efficient, or with the requirements of family or domestic life. The eighteenth century architect specifically allowed for rooms in which the scale and disposition were suitable for the display of sculpture or artworks, collected to underscore the educated and erudite status of the owner.187 Compared to prevalent nineteenth century 1 8 4 Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies (1887): 136-137. 185 Adams, Architecture in the Family Way (1996): 5. 1 8 6 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 2. 1 8 7 For example, Kent had created the Landscape Room at Holkham to house artworks collected by Thomas Coke, 1st. Earl of Leicester during his European Grand Tour. In the 1750s, at both Syon and Osterley, 66 concerns that domestic space should sustain the requirements of domestic, family life, eighteenth century architects such as Robert Adam had, at Kedleston for instance, focused on the aesthetic. Hence, primary planning considerations were for architectural style, interior design and for the integration of the decorative arts. In contrast to this, nineteenth century architects like Kerr were to focus on the minutiae of the spatial organization of the domestic interior to result in what Stevenson later referred to as the 'multifariousness' of 'modern planning' that had become necessary to 'keep pace' with the 'more complicated ways of living'. 1 8 8 With a concern for the delegation of interior space for use by either individual, or for a particular function or task, nineteenth century architects provided a blueprint from which contemporary perceptions of domestic life could be implemented. Fuelled by the influence of such as Ruskin, these perceptions were that the domestic sphere be a 'place of Peace', a 'shelter' from all the 'terror, doubt and division' of the outside world'. 1 8 9 Through the media of both the architectural design and the spatial organization of their domestic space, the middle class instigated and cultivated the concept that the sanctity of hearth and home shaped a private environment that allowed the family unit to 'shut out the reality of social problems, so to create a fantasy world of security, isolation and comfort'.190 Robert Adam remodelled the dining rooms to accommodate sculpture. At Newby Hall, a Sculpture Gallery in the Adamesque style was especially constructed in 1765. 1 8 8 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 47. 1 8 9 Adams in Architecture in the Family Way (1996) quotes Ruskin's Sesame and Lilies in which he noted his anxieties of the outside world, anxieties that included the 'spread of infection, the rationalization of knowledge, scientific theories of sexual difference, the emancipation of women': 5. 1 9 0 Adams, Architecture in the Family Way (1996): 5. The nurturing of domesticity was adopted at the very top echelons of society. Following the death of the Prince Consort in 1861, Queen Victoria mourned the loss of a 'pure, happy, quiet domestic life'. Nevill, Life in the Court of Queen Victoria (1984): 1. 67 This is an argument that can be substantiated, for example, by the image presented in a portrait of William Armstrong of Cragside, who had founded a fortune as 'one of Britain's greatest geniuses and mightiest industrialists'.191 By 1880, when Armstrong's portrait was painted, it would appear that middle class notions of domestic felicity had become firmly entrenched. The picture shows Armstrong in a mood of fireside informality, seated in the inglenook of his dining room, wearing country clothes, reading a newspaper, legs crossed, dogs at his carpet-slippered feet.192 To support this image of middle class domesticity, of a sheltered, peaceful family life, into the stone over the fireplace was etched 'East West, Hame's [sic] Best'.1 9 3 Such an image of the sanctity of hearth and home was one to which many of the 'fastidious characteristics' that had been first noted by Kerr in 1865, such as privacy, comfort, cheerfulness, salubrity, can be applied. How, then, might it be seen that Kerr actually accommodated these characteristics, considered both then and later in the century, to be an integral part of middle class domestic felicity, into his spatial organization of the interior of Bear Wood? It has been suggested earlier in this work that, on the approach to Bear Wood, there were indications that it was intended to be perceived as the seat of the private, domestic life of the Walter family. There was, for example, the short and secluded driveway approach to the house, as well as sigriifiers of domesticity in the exterior architecture, particularly on the south facade. That the Walter family did subscribe to contemporary middle class notions appropriated to the family unit might be based on a tribute paid to John Walter at the time of his death. At that time it was written, T can bear testimony to his private and personal 1 9 1 The National Trust, Cragside (1994): 5. 1 9 2 Painted by Henry Hetherington Emmerson (1831-1895). The National Trust, Cragside, Northumberland (1992): 51. 1 9 3 The portrait remains in situ in the dining room at Cragside. 68 virtues, to the manner in which he performed all the duties of social life - those of husband, father, friend, of Christian, in fact, and general benefactor'.194 How, then, did Kerr's application of his very specific theoretical architectural maxims to the sphere of domestic space at Bear Wood allow the Walters to reflect nineteenth century middle class ideals of domestic felicity and a private, family life sheltered from the terror, doubt and division of the outside world? Kerr was adamant that the house of a 'gentleman' be 'divisible into two departments; namely, that of THE F A M I L Y , and that of THE S E R V A N T S ' . 1 9 5 At Bear Wood, provision was made for this with a distinctly separate wing for the servants. The division between family and servants reflected the contemporary perception that England was made up of two societies, between whom, as Disraeli wrote in Sybil: there is no intercourse and no sympathy' who are as ignorant of each other's habits thoughts and feelings, as if they were dwellers in different zones, or inhabitants of different planets; who are formed by a different breeding, are fed by a different food, are ordered by different manners, and are not governed by the same laws... THE RICH AND THE POOR. 1 9 6 This can be seen to be reflected in the domestic sphere, whereby the spatial organization specifically separated the family (the rich) from the servants (the poor).1 9 7 However, despite this overt separation, but in line with the growing concept of the sanctity of the middle class home as a refuge from the outside world, it was imperative that the apparent felicity of the entire domestic household be maintained.198 To achieve this, each inhabitant, whether 194 The Times, "Death of Mr Walter", Monday, November 5, 1894. 1 9 5 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 64. 1 9 6 Benjamin Disraeli, Sybil (1845) quoted in Altick, Victorian People and Ideas (1973): 11. 1 9 7 It might be posited that the precept applied to society as a whole. When reflected in the home, it was, in effect, 'society writ small'. 1 9 8 The notion of the appearance of domestic harmony was to continue, although Kerr's system of a distinct separation between family and servants was challenged in 1880 by Stevenson. On the subject of unity, Stevenson wrote, 'there must be communication between all the several parts of the house under one roof- shelter. It must be one house, hot several'. House Architecture, Vol. II (1880): 48. 69 family, guest or servant, should appear to accept a defined role, with all roles closely related within the spatial organization. The intention was that the domestic unit, operating under a hierarchical paterfamilias system, would then emulate middle class ideals of familial harmony.199 It was an intention supported by the accepted precepts of hierarchy, of both class and gender, on which much of the nineteenth century middle class tenets were based. In addition to this, Kerr's separation of space between family and servants, as well as his detailed designation of task-specific space, would have provided a physically constricted environment that allowed little opportunity for casual social interaction across boundaries, even within what he termed, the 'two departments' of the household. At Bear Wood, the appearance of domestic harmony was abetted by Kerr's designation of task-specific rooms for the servants. Space allocated to, for instance, the brushing room, the cleaning room, the still room, the scullery or the pastry kitchen, meant separation and isolation for those involved in the work.2 0 0 Throughout the range of the servants' wing, Kerr created a multiplicity of subdivisions in both the working and sleeping 1 9 9 Until the Married Women's Property Acts of 1870 and 1882, financial independence on the male maintained patriarchal control and, under the law, an economic hegemony. See Perkin, Victorian Women (1993): 76 & 114-117. In White, Male and Middle Class (1988) Catherine Hall confirms that the property of wealthier married women was sometimes protected by a marriage settlement allowing for partible, rather than primogeniture, inheritance, although the 'forms of female inheritance tended increasingly to be linked to [male] dependence': 98. Further, until the introduction of the Matrimonial Causes Act in 1857 under which applications could be heard in specially set up civil courts, marital divorce had required an individual Act of Parliament, thus limiting it to the very wealthy or influential. 2 0 0 Section II of Kerr's book addressed 'The Domestic Offices' in what Stevenson regarded as 'multifarious' detail: In addition to the commonplace kitchen and scullery, he also advised on the Cook's Pantry or Dry-Larder, the Meat-Larder, Game & Fish Larders, the Pastry-Room, Salting Room, Smoke- House and Bacon-Larder, the Dairy and Dairy Scullery. For each, he gave detailed suggestions for the correct dimensions of the space, for the apparatus, along with an appropriate layout for fittings and equipment. In similar detail, subsequent Sections offered advice on the Upper Servants' Offices; the Lower Servants Offices; the Laundry Offices; Bakery and Brewery Offices; Cellars, Storage and Outhouses, etc.; the Servants' Private Rooms; and Thoroughfares, Supplementaries, and General Arrangement of Offices. This multiplicity of subdivision of space was implemented in many 19th century country houses in which could be found a myriad of task-specific rooms that included kitchen departments for cleaning vegetables, rnaking pastry, making preserves. There were wet and dry laundries, compartments for coal, oil, wood, ashes, swill and dust. There were rooms for cleaning lamps, boots and knives, as well as the Valet's Brushing Rooms next to the Visitors' Brushing Rooms, even rooms for ironing newspapers. 70 accorhmodation spaces allocated to the servants. One intention was that the isolation of the individual into either task-specific or compartmentalized living areas should lessen the interaction between the occupants. This, it might be presumed, would reduce the opportunities for domestic friction to occur whilst, at the same time, contribute to the efficiency and productivity of labour. In addition, it can be seen that, distinguished by their designated use, these rooms allowed for an inferred hierarchy to become associated with that domain and with the servants who worked in, or occupied, them. The floor plan of Bear Wood supports this in that it indicates that the upper servants, the housekeeper, the butler and the cook, were assigned private spaces in which to work and sleep, a designation that contributed to and supported the preferred status of the individual. 71 PART TV T H E DOMESTIC INTERIOR (4.3) On the issue of spaciousness Not only did the designation of space for specialized occupancy contribute to the implementation and separation of multifarious domestic units, but the provision for task- specific specialization also contributed to increasing the overall size of the house. The size of a house, as has been noted, was a traditional strategy that inferred status and one that continued to be adhered to in the mid-nineteenth century by middle class country house owners. That the size of a country house was a means by which the status and prestige of the owner could be advertised was a fact of which Kerr was only too aware.201 Translated by him into 'spaciousness', and an 'amplitude of space' when applied to the interior, it allowed, as he noted, the 'self-esteem of a man...to expand and acquire vigour under the simple influence of elbow room'.2 0 2 In the interior of Bear Wood, Kerr was to provide ample elbow room with a 70 by 24 foot gallery, a 40 by 24 foot dining room and inter- connecting morning and drawing rooms of 96 by 26 feet, for example, all of which supported 15 foot high ceilings.203 Even allowing for the fact that Bear Wood was a large establishment, Kerr applied the same principle of 'spaciousness' to smaller houses he built for less affluent middle class families. For instance, The Builder carried an article on Kerr's plan for Ascot Heath House which he designed for John Delane, John Walter's editor at The Times. The Builder made 2 0 1 See arguments presented in Part II (1.2) referring to the massive and impressive entrance facade of Bear Wood. 2 0 2 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 74. 2 0 3 lO'-l 1' ceilings were considered suitable only for servants. 72 particular note of the fact that Kerr had designed the public rooms at Ascot Heath so that they could be thrown open 'to provide for occasional receptions of a special character', whereby the 'aggregate suite for receptions attains the extent of nearly 150 ft. of available length', thereby accommodating the owner's requirement for an 'amplitude of space'. At the same time, elucidating the importance that was attached to domestic felicity, it was pointed out that this spaciousness was achieved 'without any sacrifice of the domestic simplicity and convenience ofthe dwelling for every-day uses'.204 Unlike the equally large, or even larger public rooms in earlier country houses that had been intended to accommodate a markedly public lifestyle, rooms such as these at Bear Wood or Ascot Heath, although comprising an 'amplitude of space', were intended for a more private, domestic lifestyle, primarily for the immediate family and their guests.205 Despite this, the size of the public rooms were a means by which the self-esteem, the status and' the prestige of the owners could be affirmed. However, if this 'amplitude of space' was not intended to accommodate a public lifestyle as it had in earlier country houses, it might be assumed that the objective was to distinguish an identity other than of status and prestige. By the attention Kerr gave to the issue of spaciousness, it would appear that he intended that 'under the simple influence' of 'elbow room' the 'self-esteem of a man' would 'expand and acquire vigour'. And, it was as vigorous and expansive members of a progressive and modern society that mid-nineteenth The Builder, "AscotHeath House", December 19, 1868: 929. Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 74. 73 century middle class owners, such as John Walter or John Delane, wished to be perceived.206 In contrast to this, the issue of spaciousness in the domestic interior was also one of practicality and good, economic common sense, particularly when applied to space allocated to the servants. It was a principle confirmed by Kerr, who advised 'it is manifest that the amount of accommodation must be regulated directly by the list of the servants to be kept. This list being determined, the accommodation has simply to be made to correspond'.207 Despite the notion that the number of servants a family could afford to retain conferred status on the employer, Kerr pointed out that excessive space for domestic chores was not advisable in the interests of either expenditure or efficiency. He cautioned that ' i f on the contrary it be the accommodation that is first determined, and this in excess for the sake of completeness, the corresponding excess o f servants must inevitably follow, with a long succession of pecuniary consequences'.208 Despite Kerr's advocation, his floor plan for Bear Wood indicates that the complement of domestic staff in the Walter household was meant to reflect the status and prestige of the family. Space was specifically allocated on the first floor of the servants' wing for at least eleven female domestic staff.209 However, the number of female servants was higher, no doubt, than specified in the floor plan. For instance, accommodation for the It is interesting to note that, by the 1880 edition of Stevenson's House Architecture, the notion of self- esteem invigorated by an 'amplitude of space' had changed. Stevenson advocated 'compactness and simplicity' rather than 'numerous staircases, needless corners and tortuous passages': 49. 2 0 7 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 74. 2 0 8 Ibid.: 201. There is some irony in Kerr's concern with expenditure, particularly as his original estimate for Bear Wood had doubled by the time of its completion. 2 0 9 The sleeping rooms for a nurse, 2 lady's maids, 4 housemaids (2 per room), 2 kitchen maids, the Housekeeper and the Cook female servants are specified. 74 staff of the nursery, or the laundry staff was not indicated.210 Further, Kerr made no specific note of where the male servants were to sleep on the top floor of the servants' wing, in addition to which they often slept in various areas of the house to provide protection for the premises.211 At Bear Wood, the floor plan indicated sleeping space for a footman in the gentlemen's cloakroom located adjacent to the front entrance, the butler was assigned a bedroom adjacent to the plate safe. Based on the sleeping space indicated for the servants and allowing for unspecified space for additional staff, it can be estimated that Bear Wood might have carried a complement of twenty to twenty five indoor domestic staff.212 That the middle class Walter family could afford to employ such an impressive number would, undoubtedly, have conferred status on them. In addition, the number of staff retained might be regarded as a means by which current perceptions that, able to provide the extensive task-specific space necessary to accommodate such a complement of servants, the family could be seen to represent the progressive, modern approach to convenience and efficiency by which the class wished to be identified. 2 1 0 The floor plan also indicated a bedroom for the governess, although her somewhat ambivalent position between servants and family precludes her from being considered as domestic staff, despite her being so listed at the contemporary country house, Brodsworth Hall. Source: English Heritage: information provided at the house. 2 1 1 In previous centuries, servants had slept close to the family as a form of mutual protection, also to be within earshot before the advent of mechanical bell-systems. 2 1 2 In The Gentleman's Country House (1981): 87 Franklin considers that, although the numbers varied, there were usually no fewer than 15 indoor servants, with as many as 40, in country houses contemporaneous with Bear Wood. At the lower end of the social scale, a signifier of middle class status was the fact that the family could afford to employ, even if only one maid-of-all-work, a live-in servant. For the aristocracy, the tradition of a large establishment was often upheld: when the 15th. Earl of Derby died in 1893, he acknowledged 727 retainers and servants in his will. Maroon, The English Country House (1978): 102. 75 PART IV THE DOMESTIC INTERIOR (4.4) On the issue of privacy Not only did the separation and designation of space within the domestic interior of country houses such as Bear Wood allow for a seemingly harmonious, albeit hierarchical and patriarchal, social system to operate, but the system also accommodated a further requirement of middle class domestic ideology, that of privacy. It was a requirement that proved to be both fundamental and of particular concern in the spatial organization of the middle class domestic sphere. Privacy headed the list of Kerr's 'fastidious characteristics':213 It is the first principle with the better classes of English people that the Family Rooms shall be essentially private, and as much as possible the Family Thoroughfares. It becomes the foremost of all maxims, therefore:., that the Servants' Department shall be separated from the Main House, so that what passes On either side of the boundary shall be both invisible and inaudible on the other.214 In Bear Wood, with its distinctly divided departments between family and servants, Kerr put into practice what he advised. 'The idea which underlies all', he wrote, 'is simply this. The family constitute one community, the servants another...each class is entitled to shut its door upon the other and be alone'.215 However, Kerr's didactic approach to ensuring privacy was one with which Stevenson, in his works published in 1880, was not entirely in agreement. 'Is not this carrying the separation a little too far?' he asked, 2 1 3 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 67. 2 1 4 Ibid. 2 1 5 Ibid: 68. 76 '...should the mistress not have the fun of her own house? Should not the master know his servants when he meets them?216 Historian, Griselda Pollock is of the opinion that the nineteenth century notion of domestic privacy in spatial terms had 'certainly existed before the eighteenth century'2 1 7 The concept of privacy, with the allocation of separate spaces, can be increasingly discerned in previous centuries in the houses of the wealthy. Stevenson wrote of the provision of 'privy lodgings' and 'privy galleries' evident in earlier house planning and noted that, as early as the fifteenth century, 'a change in the social state' meant that the 'privee [sic] parlour' for family use was established.218 This can be seen at Haddon Hall where there was a private parlour leading off the communal great hall. By the turn of the sixteenth century, the architect, Robert Smythson had located private, family lodgings at Hardwick Hall on the second floor, with the public rooms of state on the third and the household on the main floor.2 1 9 The provision for domestic privacy was further extended towards the end of the seventeenth century with the addition of corridor space, primarily intended for the use of the servants, behind the enfilade of public rooms 2 2 0 This can be seen, for instance, at Chatsworth, an Elizabethan house remodelled in 1688 2 2 1 As the architectural writer, Robin Evans notes; increasing demands for private space resulted in the division of domestic space into 'two domains - an inner sanctuary of inhabited, sometimes disconnected rooms, and an 2 1 6 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. II (1880): 78 & 79. 2 1 7 Ibid. As early as 1604, Sir William Wentworth of Wentworth Woodhouse had advised, 'Take heed what you speak before them [servants]...' Quoted in Girouard, A Country House Companion 1987): 128. 2 1 8 Ibid.: 36&20. 2 1 9 Haddon Hall, originally a medieval stronghold for the Cavendish family. Hardwick was built at the turn of the 17th. century for Bess of Hardwick, matriarch of the Cavendish family, Dukes of Devonshire. 2 2 0 Ibid. In the 17th century, architect Sir Roger Pratt had noted, 'ordinary servants may never publicly appear in passing to and fro on their occasions there'. Evans, Translations form Drawing to Building (1997): 71. 2 2 1 Haddon Hall, Hardwick Hall & Chatsworth were all built for the Cavendish family and illustrate the growing requirements demonstrated by this one family for increasing privacy in their domestic space. 77 unoccupied circulation space...that became a recognizably modern definition of privacy'.222 By the eighteenth century, the separation of private space for the family away from the public areas of the house was more evident in some country houses. At Blenheim, for example, Vanbrugh allocated rooms east of the enfilade of state rooms especially for use by the family, whilst at Kedleston, the east wing, detached from the state rooms, was for the family. Such provisions were, however, exceptional, in that the majority of eighteenth century country houses did not offer such distinct private areas for family use. Ken- recognized this in a review of spatial planning in The Gentieman's House. In considering the improvements that the Anglo-Palladian plan, used so extensively for country houses in the eighteenth century, had introduced, Kerr referred to Holkham, begun in 1733. At Holkham, according to Kerr, there had been a lack of progress in the development in the spatial organization of the domestic interior, primarily because there had been relatively little attention paid to ensuring the privacy of the inhabitants. He decried the 'deficiency of ordinary passages' in the interior of Holkham, as well as what had been the continued 'readiness...universally exhibited to create thoroughfare-rooms,",223 'Respecting privacy', Kerr continued, again referring to the interior at Holkham, 'the progress had been little...the thoroughfare rooms, for example, might almost be considered retrograde'.224 By the nineteenth century, the issue of ensuring privacy, particularly in the domestic domain of the middle class, was specific. This echoed Ruskin's concern, largely adopted by the middle class, that family space be a refuge and a sanctuary, apart from the household Robin Evans, Translations from Drawing to Building (1997): 75. Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 47-48. 78 and the outside world. According to Kerr, it was a 'matter for the architect's care' so much so that, in the design of the domestic interior, he instructed that there should be no 'unrefined arrangements'.225 It was a notion to which attention continued to be paid throughout the century. In his volumes published in 1880, Stevenson confirmed Kerr's earlier maxim, although he suggested that, rather than an absolute binary division between family and servants, the domestic interior should comprise of 'several distinct divisions - one for the family to live in, another for entertainments - a side for the banquet and a side for the household...- besides the division for the servants',226 It has been noted that, despite their heterogeneity, the nineteenth century middle class was unified by their subscription to commonly held values and a sense of a collective social identity. One social more to which claimants to middle class status aspired has been defined by the historian, F.M.L. Thompson as the 'stereotype of respectability'.227 Under the rubric of privacy, the spatial organization of the middle class domestic realm provided a means by which the appearance of respectability for the family could be contained within an insular and isolated lifestyle, separate from the remainder of the household and apart from the rigours and temptations of outside society. With an adherence to a 'respectable' domestic life, the middle class created an image of familial 'privacy, propriety and prudery', values by which their class was to be identified.228 2 2 5 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 68. 226 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol, 7/(1880): 54. 2 2 7 Thompson, The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 176. Thompson notes that, even in the homes of the least affluent members of the middle class where space was at a premium, privacy was maintained by means of territorial space, 'narrowed down to mother's chair and father's chair in the parlour'. 2 2 8 Ibid. Adams in Architecture in the Family Way (1996) suggests that the requirement for comparmentalized rooms countered what was perceived as the 'seemingly promiscuous lifestyle' of the French. 'Their tradition of interconnected rooms en suite was interpreted in England as an affront to common decency': 133: 79 According to the Foucault, private space allocated to the family unit contributed to an image that also became associated with the Victorian middle class. For Foucault, confinement (applied, in this case, to the designated private family areas) is tantamount to secrecy from which, he argues, emanates notions of restraint and hypocrisy.229 That privacy becomes tantamount to secrecy is supported by Griselda Pollock, who suggests that the need for secrecy within the family unit evolved with the wish of the landed elite to protect their honour and to keep their reputations publicly unsullied.230 Unlike the landed gentry, elite and long-established in the social order and confident in the status and prestige of their family lineage, the newly-arrived nineteenth century middle class landowners, with their requirements for domestic privacy, appeared concerned with establishing a reputation of respectability as analogous, to their identity. For John Walter and his family, as for others who indicated an adherence to nineteenth century middle class tenets, the need to present an appearance of an unsullied reputation, of respectable propriety, would have nurtured a 'desire for concealment, a predisposition towards secrecy'.231 One arrangement that encroached on the privacy of the family and was a potential means by which familial secrets could be breached, was the tradition whereby the domestic offices had been located in the basement area. So as to avoid a 'Kitchen window [that] in summer weather forms a trap to catch the conversation at the casement of the Drawing room', Kerr advised that the domestic offices be distanced in a separate wing.2 3 2 Kerr also 2 2 9 Foucault, The History of Sexuality (1990): 3. 2 3 0 Pollock quotes Amussen,v4« Ordered Society (1988): 89 in, "Living on the stage of the world" in Wilson, Rethinking Social History (1993). 2 3 1 Foucault, The History of Sexuality (1990): 89. 2 3 2 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 68. 80 noted that spatial arrangements should be such that family and guests should have 'free passageway without encountering the servants unexpectedly'.233 Advocated to ensure the privacy of the family, there was also the advantage that such an arrangement would not interrupt the efficiency of the servants' work and so not compromise the smooth running of the domestic machine. Under the aegis of efficiency and apparent domestic harmony, both were important, middle class standards. As Kerr advocated, 'let the servants have access to all their duties without coming unexpectedly upon the family or visitors. On both sides this privacy is highly valued'.234 Issues of privacy embraced not only the spatial arrangements of the domestic interior, but also the assurance that neither family nor servants overlook the activities of the other. For Kerr, these issues of privacy contributed to what he considered to be the 'salubrity' of domestic arrangements, achieved by judicious architectural planning. 'Extreme care must...be exercised in the disposition of offensive Apartments and Other issues that contributed to the removal of domestic offices from the basement, such as efficiency or cooking odours are addressed in Part IV (1.7) & (1.9) respectively. A separate wing for the domestic offices had been made possible in the 18th. century when the invention of the bell pulley system allowed servants to be out of earshot when summoned. Nash, for instance, was in Wales between 1785 and 1796, where he designed country houses, such as Llanerchaeron, with a separate domestic wing grouped around a courtyard. Source: Richard Suggett, John Nash, Architect, The National Library of Wales: Aberystwyth, Dyfed, 1995. Advances in technology meant that, by the 1840s, speaking tubes could be installed. (In the December 11, 1874 issue of The Building News (p. 711) a correspondent denigrated the effectiveness of speaking tubes. He wrote that he had 'introduced them freely into the house believing they to save much trouble to self and servants, as supplemental to bells'. However, the household consensus was that they were 'a bore'.) By 1865, electric bells were in use and, by 1876, in-house telephones had been installed, both of which allowed the domestic offices to be distanced from the main house. Speaking tubes and in-house telephones were the most efficient as they saved the servants from having to make two journeys to undertake a task. 2 3 3 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 68. 2 3 4 Ibid. The demand for privacy, to be achieved, in part, by separating family from servants, was a particularly British requirement that was not echoed to the same extent by Continental middle class families. The latter continued the tradition of living in closer contact with their servants than did the English. Stevenson pointed out that maxims to separate family and servants as advocated by such as Kerr were particularly appropriate to the 'freedom of disposition of country houses' rather than to the 'restriction of town sites'. House Architecture, Vol. II (1880): 54. 81 Outbuildings' he noted.235 At Bear Wood, he was careful that all outdoor domestic activities were screened by the wing of the domestic offices. Windows were set high on the side of the servants' wing that overlooked the entrance courtyard.236 In the main part of a country house like Bear Wood, designed to accommodate middle class requirements for domestic privacy, the compartmentalization of space into separate, enclosed areas, to be entered through doorways, often approached via a vestibule area, ensured a measure of seclusion for the occupants. That the middle class would have considered the 'charms' of 'solitude' desirable and appropriate to their identity was confirmed by Stevenson, who noted, the 'opportunity for retirement...has charms only for those with internal mental resources', not for 'uneducated people'.237 The way in which the public rooms could be accessed accommodated what Stevenson endorsed as 'our love of seclusion and retirement [so that] each room must be isolated'.238 As Robin Evans notes, in many nineteenth century houses, privacy was achieved by the 'favoured alternative...the terminal room, with only one strategically placed door info the rest of the house', even though architects such as Kerr appeared aware that such an arrangement could often be impractical or inconvenient.239 The concept of limited access to rooms was a departure from the multiple access doors often installed in one room 2 3 5 Kerr, TheGentleman's House (1865): 79. 2 3 6 That servants be invisible to family has been much documented. For example, work in the public rooms had to be completed before family or guests descended, hence the very early start to the working day for domestic staff. F.M.L. Thompson notes that servants in some households, if unexpectedly encountered by family or guests in the main part of the house, were expected to face the wall, with the most extreme example being that a servant would be fired if encountered by the family. The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 156. 2 3 7 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 77(1880): 3. 2 3 8 Ibid.: 48. 2 3 9 Evans, Translations from Drawing to Building(1997): 63. Franklin states that Kerr disapproved of the plan for Mentmore in that the ladies could be trapped in the boudoir with its terminal placement off the drawing room. The Gentleman's Country House (1981): 138. 82 in the eighteenth century, particularly when required to fulfil the rules of symmetry then governing spatial planning. In nineteenth century Bear Wood, the public rooms were grouped around a central gallery with access limited to each room either by one door, or through a vestibule, or from a corridor. It was a system that accommodated what Stevenson was to refer to in House Architecture as a 'characteristic of modern planning'.240 'We must', noted Stevenson, 'have a separate communication to each room'.2 4 1 The resultant more enclosed spaces formed a matrix in which circulation space was unified and direct, a departure from the open and extended thoroughfare rooms in houses built in previous centuries. Whereas the spatial organization of the public rooms in earlier country houses was designed to indulge the aesthetic sensibilities whilst traversing the enfilade, the enclosed space of the public rooms in a nineteenth century country house like Bear Wood accommodated a more intimate and private form of entertainment. Even within these enclosed spaces, a further requirement for intimacy and privacy was preferable. As Stevenson advised, the drawing room, for instance, should 'have a number of separate centres, such as deep window recesses or a couple of fireplaces' so allowing the occupants to form into 'separate groups' for more intimate interaction.242 Such advice reflected middle class notions of the home, notions that had been propounded by Ruskin as a private place of sanctuary and refuge.243 At Bear Wood, the privacy allowed by a limited access to Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 77(1880): 47. The compartmentalization of space extended beyond the domestic realm, to be evident in public institutions, for example. This indicates the pervasiveness of middle class values into the social order. 2 4 1 Ibid. 2 4 2 Ibid: 58 & 57. 2 4 3 Ruskin alludes to this in both Sesame and Lilies and The Queen of the Air. 83 rooms provided the Walter family with the means by which they could put the ideal of domestic privacy into practice. A survey of plans of country houses built during the nineteenth century indicates that the specific designation of private space for the family unit was commonplace, both in houses designed for middle class owners, as well as in those being remodelled for the aristocracy.244 In fact, such was the importance evidently attached to the provision of separate accommodation for the family that a private wing or suite in a country house was to become a stock essential in the homes of the affluent, an arrangement referred to by Stevenson as a 'separate little house with its own stairs'.245 Perhaps the most extreme provision for family privacy was implemented at Eaton Hall, remodelled by Alfred Waterhouse circa 1870 for the Duke of Westminster.246 Waterhouse was to ensure that the ducal family enjoyed maximum privacy: he provided them with a separate and completely self-contained house attached to the main part of Eaton Hall. By 1870, when Waterhouse undertook the remodelling of the house, it was evident that middle class requirements for domestic privacy had permeated the aristocratic lifestyle. It was also apparent that certain middle class tenets of domestic felicity had been adopted: for instance, whenever the Duke returned, the carillon in the clock tower at Eaton Hall played "Home Sweet Home"247 2 4 4 The plans surveyed are in Franklin, The Gentleman's Country House (1981) and iii Harris, The Architect and the British Country House (1985). 2 4 5 In the 19th. century, William Burn (1789-1870) was probably the first architect of country houses to ensure that private, family space was allocated. Stoke Rochford, designed in 1839 for the middle class Tumor family, incorporated such space. Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 54. 2 4 6 Alfred Waterhouse (1830-1908). 2 4 7 Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1971): 2. The influence of middle class domestic values reached court circles. On July 4,1872, Queen Victoria noted in her journal that prima donna Adelina Path's musical rendering of "Home Sweet Home" was 'touching beyond measure'. Nevill, Life in the Court of Queen Victoria (1984): 82. 84 In 1865, at Bear Wood, Kerr had expressed, in architectural form, provisions for familial privacy within the domestic interior and had put into practice what he had advised in The Gentleman's House. He delegated private, second floor space for the Walter family, to be entered through an ante room with an interconnecting family bedroom, boudoir, bath room and gentleman's dressing room. Opposite was the school room and adjacent, along the corridor, was the nursery suite. On the floor immediately above the family suite were the young ladies' rooms, connected by the young ladies' staircase. Distinctly separated and protected from the public areas on the main floor and on the opposite side of the house from the main entrance, these family rooms positioned the inhabitants of these private areas within a'depth into space'. The architect, Thomas Markus suggests that such a designation of space separates private and public realms and so divides a building into two categories of people, 'inhabitants' and 'visitors', with the former having an investment in power as the 'coritrollers'; the latter, as subjects of the system and not freely able to penetrate into the 'depth of space', the 'controlled'.248 This division was also evident in the space allocated to the titular head of the household for estate business. At Bear Wood, the entrance or waiting room provided direct access from the exterior to the gentleman's room, so preventing outside 'visitors' from entering the interior spaces of the house. Such a designation of space was also evident in the public arena. In institutions like hospitals, asylums or prisons, for example, the inhabitants were sequestered within the depth of space, with 'controllers' situated at the approach to the interior supervising access by visitors. In both domestic and public contexts, the 'controllers' were located in a Markus, Buildings & Power (1993): 14. 85 position of power. Whether the 'controllers' be located within the depth of private space, or in a 'controlling' position at the approach to the interior, both arrangements underscore the notion that private space be protected. At the same time, however, the intention was that the strength, the power and the concomitant status of those in control be demonstrated. The spatial organization in Bear Wood might be used to explain the motivations of John Walter. Eulogized by his. heir as a man, 'marked' by the 'qualities of sobriety, sagacity, independence, unswerving honesty of purpose, and disinterested devotion to the public welfare', John Walter epitomized many of the qualities that represented nineteenth century middle class tenets, a primary one of which was a predisposition that private, family space be integrated into the domestic interior.249 2 4 9 Dictionary of National Biography, Walter, John. (1818-1894): 716. At the end of the citation is written, '[Personal knowledge; the authorities cited in the text; information communicated by Mr. Arthur F. Walter.] J.R.T.'. Arthur Walter was the second son and heir of John Walter. With Arthur's contribution to the citation, it can be presumed that the family adhered to many of the values on which the identity of the 19fh. century middle class was established. In line with general middle class political right wing leanings, John Walter was noted as having been 'nominally a conservative, though a free-trader [in line with middle class entrepreneurialism] and virtually a Peelite...his political faith.. .was that of a liberal-conservative': 714. 86 PART IV T H E DOMESTIC INTERIOR (4.5) The issue of gender-specific space Provisions for privacy in the domestic interior required an increasingly more distinct separation of the private from the public areas. This was not only specifically accommodated in the spatial organization of houses such as Bear Wood, but it also allowed for the implementation of what, by the mid-nineteenth century, Was considered to be the 'natural' separation between the female and male spheres in both public and private realms. In the middle class social order, this 'natural' separation deemed the public arena outside the home to be that of the male, 'the seat of masculine enterprise and activity'.250 This was in contrast to the private, domestic realm, 'the proper location of women and children' in which they were expected to operate.251 In the words of Ruskin: The man's power is active, progressive, defensive. He is eminently the doer, the creator, the discoverer, the defender. His intellect is for speculation and invention; his energy for adventure, for war, and for conquest...252 Historian, Catherine Hall notes that women had an equally defined role: While middle-class ideologies stressed the moral and managerial aspects of womanhood.. .wives.. .were to provide moral inspiration and manage the running of their households.. . 2 5 3 2 5 0 Groenewegen, ed., Feminism and Political Economy in Victorian England\\99A): Barbara Caine, "Feminism and Political Economy in Victorian England - or John Stuart Mill, Henry Fawcett and Henry SidgwickPonder the 'Woman Question"':38. 2 5 1 Ibid. 2 5 2 Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies (1887): 135 & 136. 2 5 3 Hall, White, Male and Middle Class (1992): 145. Ruskin's notion of the woman as helpmeet to her husband was also represented in other ways. For instance, the artist George Hicks painted a triptych, Woman's Mission in 1863 in which the devoted wife performs the duty of her expected by society and conforms to contemporary middle class standards of domesticity. Ref: Macleod, Art and the Victorian Middle Class (1996): 216. 87 The division of the genders had, according to Hall, been considerably influenced in the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries by philosophers, such as Hobbes and Locke, both of whom considered the foundation of the social order to be the 'male-headed family'.254 Added to this was the 'powerful influence' of Rousseau who saw the 'nuclear family and patriarchy as natural'.255 Hence, as the nineteenth century progressed, the position of women, seen in Rousseauian terms as 'physical and sensual, deficient in rationality and incapable of rational thought' became increasingly marginalized from the public, political sphere,256 That these public and private realms were to be perceived as gender-specific was furthered by the first Reform Act in 1832 which, according to Hall, had corrfirmed men as 'responsible political subjects', while 'women were largely condemned to public silence'.257 The isolation of women from the public sphere had taken place as the Industrial Revolution had increasingly moved the operation of business away from the domestic realm and so lessened their interaction with the public arena. It was a process that corresponded with the emergence of an expanding middle class aimed at estabhshing a political and cultural identity by which its values could be recognized. The isolation of middle class women from the public arena was furthered in that they were not required to undertake productive employment necessary for the family budget, hence the nineteenth century middle class woman became increasingly invisible to outside society. The degree of leisure and isolation afforded the female family members were a means by which the status of the 2 5 4 Hall, White, Male and Middle Class (1992): 155. 2 5 5 Ibid. Ibid. 2 5 7 Ibid: 145. 88 family could be exemplified. Consequently, the seclusion of women within the domestic domain became a significant means by which the nineteenth century middle class could not only advertise its identity, but an identity that was separate and apart, particularly from that of the working classes.259 Confined, constrained and protected within the private, domestic realm and subject to the legal autonomy of the patriarchal head of the household, middle class women were left with no formal political voice, no economic autonomy of any significance, no formal place iri the public sphere. This was affirmed by the influential opinions of such as John Stuart Mill, who presumed that women were not 'independent adults, able to safeguard their own interests'.260 Instead, a woman claiming middle class status became invested with an identity that positioned her as custodian of the domestic citadel, as 'The Angel iri the House' 2 6 1 Social critics, such as Ruskin had been influential in placing the mantle of the nurturing, maternal female, reverent and dutiful wife, on the shoulders of middle class women.262 Ruskin likened them to the mythical Greek goddess, Athena. Traditionally regarded as the Goddess of Wisdom, Ruskin perceived Athena as 'the directress of human passion, resolution and labour'.263 For Ruskin, the 'power' of the woman inside the This provided a means by which gradations of rank, based on sources and degrees of income, could be established within the middle class. 2 5 9 Towards the end of the century, such as department stores provided a means by which middle class women could interact in the public realm with other women of their class outside the immediate domestic sphere. 2 6 0 Groenewegen, ed., Feminism and Political Economy in Victorian England (1994): Barbara Caine, "Feminism and Political Economy in Victorian England - or John Stuart Mill, Henry Fawcett and Henry SidgwickPonder the 'Women Question'": 33. John Stuart M i l l , 1806-1873, English philosopher and economist. 2 6 1 In Sesame and Lilies (1887) Ruskin refers to the 1854 poem by Coventry Patmore (1823-1896) "The Angel in the House": 140-141. 2 6 2 In Sesame & Lilies, Ruskin acknowledged that he was writing for 'people belonging to the upper, or undistressed middle, classes'. Preface: x. 2 6 3 Ruskin, Queen of the Air (1887): 121. Ruskin's concept of Athena reflected a specifically Victorian definition. Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies (1887): 136. 89 domestic realm was 'not for invention or creation, but for sweet ordering, arrangement and decision'.264 To Ruskin, the home should be the 'woman's true place and power', a place in which she 'must be enduringly, incorruptibly good; instinctively, infallibly wise'.2 6 5 She was to be both icon and example, selflessly devoted to the virtue of the family, the epitome, in fact, of nineteenth century middle class values. In architectural terms, the demarcation between the public and the private is evident in a survey of the floor plans of contemporary country houses, of which Bear Wood is an example. Not only does the plan of Bear Wood distinctly separate the two realms, but it also clearly indicates gender-specific areas for both family members and servants. This distinct demarcation of space, evident along gender-designated lines, confirms that the perceived 'natural' separation between male and female realms in the social order was replicated within the middle class home, providing a means by which many middle class ideas of privacy and the attendant maintenance of moral integrity and propriety, could be sustained within the domestic interior. That Kerr subscribed to and supported this notion of a 'natural' separation between the male and the female spheres of life is evident, both in his theoretical advice and in his actual application of these ideas to the design of the domestic interior. Taking the principal staircase as an example, he deemed it should be central, yet private and ...afford direct passage, for the ladies in particular, from the Public rooms to the Bedrooms; and secondly, the access from the Entrance ought to be equally direct, for the ladies again, when coming from out of doors, - so that they may not have to pass through any great extent of interior thoroughfare...The Principal Staircase, as a rule in any good house, is understood to be closed against the passage up and down of the servants.266 2 6 4 Ruskin, Sesame and Li/ies (1887): 136. 2 6 5 Ibid.: 138. 2 6 6 Kerr, The Gentieman's House (1865): 176. 90 Despite affording the ladies a 'direct passage' 'when coming from out of doors', the principal staircase was, according to Kerr, to be considered as 'no more than an ascent to the Sleeping-rooms of the Main House'.2 6 7 This was in contrast to the previous centuries when the principal staircase, as part of the primary route by which the house was entered, had been a significant and very public architectural feature that connected the main entrance to the public rooms located on the piano noble floor 2 6 8 So important and so significant was this staircase, used by family and guests of both genders, that it was not uncommon for heraldic devices to be integrated into this very public approach to the public rooms in the house. At Knole, for instance, the enlargement of the house in 1603 incorporated a principal staircase, the newel posts of which supported carved leopards, each holding a shield painted with the coat of arms of the Sackville family, as public harbingers of the status of the owner and to add resonance to the family name. At eighteenth century Holkham, the approach to the public rooms was also intended to be impressive. William Kent designed the marble staircase leading from the rustic to the state rooms to be set inside a 'theatrical encircling colonnade, owing something to the Vitruvian-Palladian basilica in the Barbara Vitruvius' that served not only as a dramatic and awe-inspiring means of access to 2 6 7 Ibid. Contemporaries considered that Kerr paid only scant attention to the details of planning in some areas, of which the staircase was one. In the January 7, 1865 issue of The Builder noted, 'staircase- planning, the subject of distinct works by other authors, must be considered as quite inadequately treated...' Despite his theoretical advice and, unlike many of his architectural peers, Kerr did not provide a separate staircase for the family at Bear Wood, so it must be presumed that the Principal stair was intended for adult family members, as well as for guests. In The Gentleman's House, Kerr refers to a 'Mansion' in 'Berkshire'. He does not name the mansion but the floorplan (with a few minor changes, such as the omission of the lamp room, indicating the Garden entrance hallway as a saloon, as well as a plan for a conservatory) is identical to Bear Wood. Kerr refers to the bachelors' stair as a 'peculiarity': 451. Perhaps it was that Walter demanded this bachelors' stair at Bear Wood, rather than the more usual separate family staircase. 2 6 8 In the 16th. and 17th. centuries, there had been an ascending hierarchy with interior space, with the servants on the main floor, the family on the second and the rooms of state on the third. Such an arrangement was used, for example, at Hardwick Hall (c. 1580) and Chatsworth (c. 1686). 91 the public rooms, but also referenced the learned status of the owner.269 At Kedleston, Robert Adam designed a double exterior staircase to approach the piano noble under a porticoed entrance topped with classical statuary. In all such cases, the intention was that the principal stair be a very public and impressive means by which to introduce both genders to the prestige of the owner as they entered the interior of the house. By the nineteenth century, the public rooms in country houses were generally located on the main floor, thus negating the need for a principal stair to provide a significant approach. However, for Kerr, this staircase still retained, as he noted, 'enough importance to render it one of the chief features of plan', presumably a reflection of middle class values for, as he stated, 'in some respects it even gains in characteristic value, by being associated exclusively with the privacy of the Sleeping rooms'.270 No longer a means by which to publicly access the interior, the staircase was now considered significant in terms of middle class ideals in that it provided a secluded route by which ladies, in particular, could access the most private, intimate spaces of the house. In fact, at Bear Wood, Kerr distanced the principal staircase discretely out of sight from the main entrance, to be approached through an entry vestibule, across an entrance hall and through an oak screen. Contrary to his maxim that it be no more than a means to approach the Sleeping-rooms, Kerr gave this staircase notable architectural importance with a well and balustrades of carved oak that rose through three stories, to be crowned by a gilded gallery. Above this, light filtered down through stars scattered over golden-coloured glass, perhaps in reference to Ruskin's perception of the intrinsic value of the woman in the home when he wrote of her that 'the Harris, The Architect and the British Country House (1985): 132. Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 176. 91a 92 stars only may be over her head'.271 In Queen of the Air, Ruskin wrote of Athena in the Heavens wearing a 'robe of light, saffron colour', suggesting an analogy with the golden light filtering down the staircase of Bear Wood. 2 7 2 Hence, this principal stair, dedicated for use by the ladies, both family and guests, was a means by which the separation of public from private spheres in the domestic interior of a middle class household could be emphasized. At the same time, however, and in line with the diversity with which the middle class appeared to present itself, the architectural significance given to the principal staircase in Bear Wood indicates that it was also intended to be a statement that underscored both the status and the prestige of the Walter family. Further, in order to separate the genders within the domestic interior, there was the young ladies' stair that connected their apartments directly to those of their parents'. The Bachelors' spiral stair inside a tower in the angle of the principal staircase combined notions of propriety with practicality in that, as Kerr noted, 'single men can reach their rooms, from perhaps dirty weather outside, without using the chief thoroughfares'.273 In the domestic wing, the male and female servants were appointed separate staircases that lead to their rooms on separate floors, as well as to their gender-designated corridor routes. For general convenience, Kerr advised there should be a 'Backstairs, running from the bottom to the top of the house' so as to take the 'traffic of servants when carrying out their duties, [as well as] all Nursery traffic' and 'a great deal of family traffic which avoids the Principal Staircase for the sake of privacy'.274 It was an idea undertaken at Bear Wood. 2 7 1 Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies (1887): 138. 2 7 2 Ruskin, Queen of the Air (1887). Considering that this work was 'begun thirty-five years ago', it is entirely possible that such as Kerr could have been influenced by Ruskin by the time Bear Wood was begun in 1865. 2 7 3 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 177. 2 7 4 Ibid: 177-178. 93 In Bear Wood, it can be seen that Kerr's allocation of stair and corridor routes between family and servants, between male and female, not only accommodated middle class requirements for privacy, but also accommodated that 'natural' separation between the genders. This separation of male from female realms within the domestic interior extended further. For instance, space allocated to male family and guests was very specific, whereby Kerr provided a suite of rooms for their use. Included in this suite was the library, next to which was the somewhat ambivalently-designated gentleman's room (or library) off of which was the billiard room (or gentleman's room) and the deed room. Adjacent to the billiard room was a separate entrance waiting room, a discrete space for the operation of estate business, presumably to be undertaken by the male.275 The position of the billiard room at Bear Wood, a room deemed by Stevenson as 'an essential of most country houses, as a means of killing time on wet days', should be sited so that 'men may be at their ease in it smoking and playing in their shirt-sleeves, and to drown the knocking of the balls'.2 7 6 However, it would appear that, at the time Bear Wood was built, the game of billiards was not always the exclusive prerogative of the male in that it could also be enjoyed by the ladies. To accommodate this, Stevenson noted that, instead of a separate, male-designated room, 'a billiard-table is placed in the hall, where it is convenient for a pastime, and for the ladies joining in the game'.277 This appeared to be a rather unsuitable alternative, for Stevenson added that 'to regular players...this arrangement is not satisfactory...it renders smoking impossible, else the house would be filled with tobacco fumes, while the exposure 2 7 5 Allocation of space in which estate business could be conducted contributed to the image that many 19th century owners wished to convey, that is, a business-like concern for the operation of their land. 2 7 6 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 62. 2 7 7 Ibid: 63. Although House Architecture was published in 1880, it should be recalled that Stevenson 'began this book ten years ago': Preface: v. 94 to every caller prevents playing in shirt-sleeves.278 Despite allowances for any compromise, it would appear that the billiard room was essentially considered a male preserve. There appeared to be no compromise in other spaces included in the suite of rooms at Bear Wood intended for masculine use. Kerr noted that the gun room, for example, was 'indispensable to a Country-House of any pretensions, as a depository for sporting implements'.279 There was little doubt about the gender-designation for the gentlemen's odd room. Not only did Kerr consider its as 'useful for miscellaneous purposes' but, 'in the country more especially, the young gentlemen of the house may find themselves very much at a loss sometimes for an informal place in which "to do as they like'". 2 8 0 Opposite the butler' s,rooms and adjacent to the working space allocated the footmen, the location of the odd room at Bear Wood exactly fitted Kerr's maxims in that it 'ought to be out of the Main House, and not directly amongst the Offices: near the Butler's-Pantry will do; and next the Gun-room will be exactly right'.2 8 1 Likewise, there was little doubt about who should occupy the smoking room, a room which, according to Stevenson was necessitated by 'modern habits'.282 Bear Wood appears to be the exception, rather than the rule, in that the floor plan does not indicate a smoking room. During the course of the nineteenth century, space specifically allocated for smoking became increasingly integrated into the domestic interior as part of the male domain 2 8 3 Kerr confirmed the purpose of the smoking room by noting: 2 7 8 Ibid. 2 7 9 Ibid: 229. 2 8 0 Ibid. 2 8 1 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 130. 282 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 64. One of the first specific spaces for smoking in the domestic interior - the Smoking Room - had been instituted by Victoria and Albert when Osborne House was built in 1843. 2 8 3 In The Gentleman's House, Kerr offers advice on the Smoking room, on its 'position, access, prospect and ventilation'. There are numerous instances of space being designated for this increasingly popular 95 The pitiable resources to which some gentlemen are driven, even in then- own houses, in order to enjoy the pestiferous luxury of a cigar, have given rise to the occasional introduction of an apartment specially dedicated to the use of Tobacco.284 Whether a separate space, or incorporated into other male-designated space, such as the billiard room, Kerr instructed that consideration be given to prospect, so that the smoking room 'should be a good one, and well got up. In short, it ought to be a charming chatting - room with smoking allowed'.285 This specific association of space with the masculine had, by the nineteenth century, been appropriated to the dining room, a connotation that was particularly compounded at Bear Wood in a north-facing room solidly encased in carved English oak.286 The sense of gravity and massiveness effected by this room might be seen as an affirmation of its association with the masculine, particularly when considered in contrast to the connotations of femininity implied by Kerr's directives that 'lightness' be sought for a south or west facing drawing room, directives later endorsed by Stevenson who advocated 'an abundance of light' for the drawing room 2 8 7 In the north-facing dining room at Bear Wood, the masculine ambience was further compounded, not only by its massiveness and solidity, but activity in other 19th. century country houses. At Cardiff Castle, remodelled from 1868 onwards by William Burges for Lord Bute, the provision of space for smoking reached what might considered to be its apotheosis, with both winter and summer smoking rooms installed in the tower designed as a bachelor suite. Source:. Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1971): 127. 2 8 4 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 129. 2 8 5 Ibid: 130. At the contemporary country house of Brodsworth Hall, where the billiard room was also designated as the smoking room, 'two large ventilation hatches' had to be installed to provide adequate ventilation. English Heritage: Brodsworth Hall (1995): 19. 2 8 6 Kerr paid particular attention to 'aspect and prospect' in The Gentleman's House. He included a diagram of an Aspect Compass under which was: 'Note. - Throughout the whole treatise, when questions of aspect are under consideration, this diagram will serve for the illustration of the argument': 81. In addition, there was an element of practicality in the dining room facing north so that, as Stevenson put it, ' the sun does not shine in on the guests at meals, necessitating the closing of the blinds'. House Architecture, Vol. II (1880): 56. 2 8 7 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 107. Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 58. 96 by a full length portrait of John Walter firmly built into the wall above the fireplace, perhaps to signify an association between the middle class associations of paterfamilias with the domestic hearth.288 Conversely, the drawing room, interconnected to the morning room at Bear Wood was, as Kerr noted, the 'Lady's Apartment essentially', as was the boudoir in the family suite on the first floor.2 8 9 In contrast to the masculine associations appropriated to the dining room, the drawing room was considered a feminine domain, for Kerr directed that its 'character' be 'always aimed' at 'especial cheerfulness, refinement of elegance, and what is called lightness as opposed to massiveness...to be entirely ladylike''}90 Drawing room, morning room and boudoir all had bay windows and were positioned to catch the afternoon or evening sun, 'so that the ladies may enjoy the most free and direct communication with the open air'.2 9 1 Kerr paid attention to this space allocated to the ladies, not only to the 'rule that in everything is this...to be entirely ladylike', but also that the windows, 'generally 2 8 8 Some 10 feet high and 8 feet wide, this portrait remains in situ. It is interesting to compare this portrait to the one painted in 1880 of William Armstrong . Walter stands in formal dress, his hand resting on a copy of The Times, a bust of his father on the table. It is a full-length portrait (traditionally associated with royalty or the aristocracy) in a pose that reflects portraits intended to affirm the status and prestige of the sitter. In contrast, the pose adopted in the portrait of Armstrong was intended to illustrate the ideals of domesticity, the way in which the middle class wished to be identified. It is interesting to note that Armstrong also chose to identify himself with in the dining room, thus indicating that the association of that space with the masculine had continued. The masculine association appropriated to the dining room probably resulted from the 18th. century tradition whereby the men remained in the dining room following dinner to allow the ladies to retire to the 'with-drawing' room to make tea, recentiy introduced as an expensive and novel commodity. Hence, the concurrent association of the drawing room as the female domain. 2 8 9 Of the boudoir, Stevenson wrote: 'The private room of the lady house is called the BOUDOIR (from boudoir, to pout), being apparentiy destined in French houses to the very commendable purpose of allowing ill-humour to be got rid of in private.' Its use in 19th. century England was evidently perceived to be of a more domestic and practical nature, for Stevenson continued, 'We rather picture an English lady in her retirement engaged in settling her household accounts, in reading, music, sewing, or worsted work.' House Architecture, Vol. II (1880): 62. 2 9 0 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 107. Although there was this tacit assumption that the drawing room was the female domain, it was used by males (by implied invitation) for certain social rituals, such as afternoon tea, or in the evenings. 2 9 1 Ibid: 107. 97 formed as casements' should open on the Lawn, Flower-Garden, or Terrace'.292 Such a reference suggests that Kerr integrated, in architectural form, nineteenth century perceptions that associated the feminine with nature. As noted, it was a notion evident in the work of contemporary writers, of which Ruskin was, perhaps, pre-eminently influential. In Sesame and Lilies, for instance, he reinforced the association of the feminine with nature with a quotation taken from Coventry Patmore's poem, "The Angel in the House ": Three years she grew in sun and shower, Then Nature said, ' A lovelier flower On earth was never sown... ' 2 9 3 To further this association, in Queen of the Air, Ruskin likened the goddess Athena to a 'mythical expression of natural phenomena', analogous to the 'ambient air, which included all cloud, and rain, and dew...'2 9 4 As an architectural expression of this notion, it would appear that a conservatory, although one was never actually constructed at Bear Wood, also served to underscore the prevalent mid-nineteenth century correlation between female-designated space and nature 2 9 5 As Kerr stated in The Gentleman's House, the 'intercommunication most usual for a Conservatory is with either the Drawing-room, Boudoir, or Morning-room', leaving little doubt of the inherent connection between a space designed to house plants and flowers and that specifically designated for feminine use. For the servants, space was not only allocated along gender-designated lines but, as has been noted, was also specifically task-related. Both designations can be regarded as a 2 9 2 Ibid: 107 & 109. 2 9 3 Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies (1887): 140. 2 9 4 Ruskin, Queen of the Air (1887): vii & 48. 2 9 5 Based on his plan for a 'Mansion in Berkshire', in The Gentleman's House (1865): 451, it would appear that Kerr had originally planned a conservatory to the west of the house, to be entered through an ante-room, from the north bay of the drawing room. It was never built. 98 means by which the sexual vulnerability of females could be protected, a precaution that was of particular concern to the middle class in the nineteenth century.296 This was recognized by Kerr who advised that 'ordinary' female domestics should share bedroom space of 'small size, suitable for not more than two persons'.297 To further protect the vulnerabUity of the 'ordinary female domestics', Kerr suggested that they be under the watchful eye of the housekeeper so that the 'Housekeepers Bedroom...ought sometimes to be situated, not exactly amongst the apartments of the women, but rather so as to command the whole of them'...298 This, however, was a maxim that he did not actually follow at Bear Wood, where the housekeeper's room was located further along the corridor from both the rooms allocated to female domestics and the women's stair.299 Kerr inferred no such arrangement was required for the 'ordinary men-servants' in order to protect their vulnerability. He did, however, advocate that 'each man ought properly to have a separate room; or otherwise...to divide a large dormitory into small compartments or boxes by board partitions'.300 This suggests, not only middle class notions of morality, but that in providing even rudimentary privacy, the male servants were perceived to be more superior in the domestic hierarchy: In addition, as F.M.L. Thompson points out, in contrast to the former arrangement wherein the daily life of servants had been contained in attic and basement The number of women employed as domestic servants had increased in proportion to the decline, from the 16th. century onwards, in the prestige associated with the work. Larger households, such as country houses, maintained a higher proportion of male servants than did the smaller households of the less affluent. In 1851, 28% of female servants were under the age of 20. Briggs, Victorian Things (1988): 256. 2 9 7 Ibid: 250. Dormitory space for domestics had, by the nineteenth century, been 'regarded with suspicion and got rid of. Girouard, Life in the English Country House (1978): 276. 2 9 8 Ibid: 251. Franklin notes that a similar example, whereby this maxim to protect the vulnerability of female domestics was not followed was at Mentmore, where the housemaids' room was placed between that for the footman and the men's staircase. The Gentleman's Country House (1981): 139. 2 9 9 The arrangement that the housekeeper's room should command the housemaids' corridor can, however, be seen at Brodsworth. 9 9 rooms, the architectural expression of a separate servants' wing allowed for more space that could be corhpatmentalized.301 the objective to separate the genders by the provision of more private space affected the quotidian working life of the servants in a country house such as Bear Wood. It has been noted that work assigned to either male or female was intended to be undertaken in compartmentalized, task-specific space, with the objective that both efficiency and moral rectitude be maintained. In gender-neutral space, such as the servants' hall, where meals and leisure time were taken, it was presumed that the presence of other servants would provide adequate chaperonage, although, even here, the genders were often separated, with men seated down one side of the table and women down the other. These principles of the division and compartmentalization of space, or the separation of the genders were to be found in the general structure of society. Throughout the nineteenth century, there had been an ongoing propensity for the government to be divided into departments, prisoners separated and compartmentalized according to their gender or crimes, hospital and asylum patients into wards, again depending on either gender or the nature of their ailment. Such a separation and division between the genders meant that any limitations of interaction were accommodated and enforced by the spatial organization of the facility, thus also avoiding the possibility of moral or physical contagion. Whether in the public arena, or in the domestic interior, the objective was that spatial organization was a means by which moral laxity could be prevented, with the anticipated result that the moral 3 0 0 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 250. Presumably to maintain propriety, or an element of privacy, Ken-instructed that each partition be'six or seven feet high'. 3 0 1 F.M.L. Thompson, The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 156. Thompson also notes that, where space was less plentiful, such as in urban areas, or in the homes of the less wealthy, servants continued to be accommodated in attics and basements and that the use of space remained more communal and less compartmentalized. i o o management of the individual could be enforced and middle class standards of propriety maintained.302 The spatial organization of a country house like Bear Wood was not only designed to assist in the maintenance of proscribed moral standards, but it was also a configuration that supported both control and discipline. The specific delegation of space contributed to the appearance of the household functioning by an internally-driven, non-coercive process.303 Foucault refers to this non-coercive process of discipline and control as being manifested by a 'web of power', whereby each individual is encouraged to perceive himself as being under the surveillance of and, thus, policed by others.304 Hence, the individual, through this non-coercive process, becomes a 'docile body' with consequent internal mechanisms of control, subjugated within the social context and, thus, subject to proscribed standards of propriety.305 It is an argument that can be applied to a domestic household like Bear Wood where, the spatial organization of a nineteenth century house allowed both the instigation and accommodation of middle class values. Although the compartmentalization of this domestic interior did not allow for overt surveillance, as did, for example, the kitchens at both eighteenth century Kedleston and Harewood, wherein the occupants could be observed from balconies overlooking the workspace, the household of Bear Wood would, instead, have been subject to discipline and control under the aegis of individual moral The gender-neutral space of the servants' hall had evolved towards the end of the 17th. century when servants no longer ate in the Great Hall of a country house. 3 0 3 Briggs notes that the specialization and separation of tasks meant that work was 'learned by doing' which, therefore, meant that the worker not only worked in comparative isolation, but also became limited to the field of the job. Victorian Things (1988): 256. 3 0 4 Foucault, The History of Sexuality (1990): 86. 101 management. Such a hypothesis is central to Foucault's analysis of the issue of surveillance.306 Unlike nineteenth century institutions, such as prisons or hospitals, were the occupants were under direct surveillance, the compartmentalization of space, particularly in the domestic offices, meant that similar methods were no longer possible.307 Hence, the individual was expected to exert internal control and discipline. This meant that Kerr's delegation of space in Bear Wood, either for gender-specific occupation, or for task- specific use, would have required a conformity to expected behavioural standards the household.308 The delegation of space could, therefore, be seen a means by which a seemingly natural, un-coerced solidarity in which each inhabitant accepted a defined role and where all the roles were closely related within the spatial organization was in place.309 As Foucault stated, power is tolerable only on condition that it mask a substantial part of itself for its 'success is proportional to its abilities to hide its own mechanisms...'310 The intended outcome of designating space was to create a social organization that, in line with contemporary middle class ideology, appeared orderly, harmonious and virtuous. It was a system that demanded, under the auspices of nineteenth century middle class Evangelical religious and moral doctrines, such virtues as a compliant obedience towards authority, based on expectations that virtue and obedience were the inherent duty 3 0 6 Foucault, The History of Sexuality (1990): Chapter 3. 3 0 7 Although there was compartmentalization in institutions, the spatial organization was such that the occupants were under direct surveillance. In prisons, for instance, a panoptic layout of the interior allowed fortius. 3 0 8 In the wealthier middle class families, such as the Walter's, boys and young men would have been educated outside of the home environment and, thus, not come under the 'web of power' to the same extent as other household members. Hence, it might be argued that there was a gendered hierarchy of power, particularly in the family unit, with the males dominant over the females. 3 0 9 Markus compares and contrasts 'organic solidarity' with 'mechanical solidarity'. The latter is a relationship in which people are considered independent equals with shared beliefs as, for example, in the church. Buildings & Power (1973): 13. 3 1 0 Foucault, The History of Sexuality (1990): 86. 102 of the individual. It also demanded a sense of obligation towards others, often translated by the middle class into acts of philanthropy. The virtues of the middle class woman, as exemplar good wife, mother, or daughter ranged from personifying standards of moral excellence to her social accomplishments. The expectations of the female servant included such virtues as industry, frugality, diligence and good management.311 Whether family member or servant, a woman in a nineteenth century middle class household was expected to function within both the constrictions of such virtues and within the confinements of gender-specific space. This reflected a social order upheld by Locke, Hobbes and Rousseau, as well as Ruskin, an order based on the middle class tenets whereby the 'natural' realm meant a domestic domain sustained by the benevolent and paternal discipline of the male titular head of the household.312 In Sesame and Lilies, Ruskin counselled that the 'woman's true place' was in the home.313 In her respective roles of middle class wife and mother, or domestic servant in a middle class household, the female could, in carrying out her domestic duties within the confinement of the domestic sphere, exemplify the values of familial felicity to which the middle class subscribed. Such a system within which the female was expected to exist might be understood in terms of Foucault's assertion that sexual repression coincided with the development of capitalism, to eventually become an integral part of the bourgeois order.314 The division of space in a house such as Bear Wood was, no doubt, intended to 3 1 1 Hall discusses such virtues in White, Male and Middle Class (1992) Chapter 3. 3 1 2 Although women were central in the private, domestic sphere, men lived in it and were 'economically and legally the dominant ones within the home and family'. Groenewegan, ed., Feminism and Political Economy in Victorian England (1994): Groenewegan, "Women in Political Economy and Women as Political Economists in Victorian England": 14. ; 3 1 3 Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies (1887): 138. 3 1 4 Foucault, The History of Sexuality (1990): 5 & 6. Foucault adjusts the advent of the sexual repression of the female to the 17th century and the first stages of the development of capitalism. 103 instil 'correct moral, social and religious attitudes'.315 Added to this, the designation of gender-specific space contributed to the way in which the nineteenth century middle class could present an image of domestic life that was different from that of the working classes. It was also a means by which the sexual stereotypes inherent in middle class ideology could be reinforced. Horn, Ladies of the Manor (1991): 24. 104 PART IV THE DOMESTIC INTERIOR ( 4 . 6 ) On the issue of children in the domestic sphere During the eighteenth century, the effects of industrialization resulted in a changing social order that, at the same time, witnessed a change in attitude towards children. According to historian, J.H. Plumb such a change had actually been in effect from the beginning of the century. The previous 'dominant social attitude', concerned with children's 'relation to God, to their salvation' became, as the eighteenth century progressed, an attitude wherein 'socialization rather than salvation became the new aim'.3 1 6 In the context of the Enlightenment thought of such as Locke or Rousseau, 'the view of the child' became one that, 'given the right environment and the proper course of education, compassion and benevolence, the essential goodness of the child would triumph over its propensity for evil'. 3 1 7 By the end of the century, this was an attitude towards children that, according to Plumb, was 'spreading steadily among the middle and upper classes'.318 At the same time, as F . M . L . Thompson notes, the increasing emergence of the middle class had 'emphasized the importance of class and income differences', both between the various stratas of the middle class, as well as within the social order itself.319 By the nineteenth century, changes that had been taking place in the previous century in attitudes towards children meant that many parents, particularly those who now claimed middle class 3 1 6 Plumb, "The New World of Children in Eighteenth-century England" i n The Birth of a Consumer Society (1982): 286. 3 1 7 Ibid.: 290. 3 1 8 Ibid.: 291. 3 1 9 Thompson, The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 118. 105 status and who were ambitious to establish their identity in the social order, had 'come to look upon their children as vehicles of social emulation', as 'counters' in their 'social aspirations'.320 A traditional indication of status, long practiced by the aristocracy, had been the removal of children from the home to be raised away from the family.321 However, following the precedent established during the eighteenth century, rather than being raised from birth outside of the parental home, children of wealthy families, both aristocratic and middle class, were now accommodated within the familial sphere, even though they were located apart from the mainstream of daily family life in specifically allocated space.322 In the homes of the middle class, this was possible only where space and income allowed, so that the ability to provide such accommodation became a means by which its members could identify themselves as being socially distinct, both within their own class, as well as from the working classes.323 Nineteenth century attitudes towards children required that, although confined to specifically-allocated space, they be located close to the mother. This reflected the middle class ethos whereby familial felicity was considered a major component of the domestic ideal. It also reflected the role appropriated to the nineteenth century middle class woman 3 2 0 Ibid.: 292 & 300. Plumb also suggests that children, as vehicles for their parents' social aspirations, became a capital investment for parents. 3 2 1 Thompson discusses aristocratic practices, particularly prevalent until the 19th. century, of employing mother-substitutes and putting babies out to wet nurses. Ibid. Plumb also cites examples of the children of the wealthy upper classes being raised away from the family home. "The New World of Children in Eighteenth-century England" in The Birth of a Consumer Society (1982): Chapter Seven. 322 In. Victorian Women (1993) Perkin indicates that, at the turn of the 18th. century, there was a fashion for the aristocracy to adopt some of the emerging middle class tenets of becoming more involved with the rearing of their children. A n image of a nursemaid holding a child to the mother is cited: ' A satire of the early nineteenth-century fashion amongst women of the beau monde for spending more time with their children and even breast feeding'. Ref. Print by James Gillray, "The Fashionable Mamma: the Convenience of Modern Dress", Catalogue Reynold, Nicholas Penny, ed., Royal Academy of Art, London, 1986:393. 3 2 3 The lack of space in less affluent middle class and working class households precluded separate accommodation for children. 106 as a personification of contemporary ideals of motherhood. Ruskin regarded that the 'guiding function of the woman' was to instil in her children the virtues by which her class was identified.324 As Plumb notes, such virtues as sobriety, obedience, industry, thrift, benevolence and compassion, self-improvement and self-discipline, were those of a successful, social man', an ongoing reflection of Enlightenment ideas that represented many of the values to which the nineteenth century middle class subscribed.325 On the subject of space designated for use by children, Robert Kerr codified contemporary notions when he stated that, 'as against the principle of the withdrawal of children for domestic convenience...the mother will require to have a certain facility of access to them'.3 2 6 This meant that children be located apart from the mainstream of the household, but with, as Kerr put it, an 'intimate connection to the parents' quarter'.327 This attitude was later echoed in Stevenson's 1880 publications although, perhaps with a more practical eye towards reality, he noted, 'the nursery department should be shut off from the rest of the house; for however interesting children may be, there are times when our appreciation of them is increased by their absence'.328 However, as Stevenson concurred, 'its position should be near the mistress's bedroom'.329 Both Kerr and Stevenson indicated that the mandate of the nineteenth century architect was that specific attention be given to 3 2 4 Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies (1887): 135. 3 2 5 Plumb, "The New World of Children in Eighteenth-century England" in The Birth of a Consumer Society (1981): 290 & 291. 3 2 6 Kerr,The Gentleman's House (1865): 144. 3 2 7 Ibid. 3 2 8 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 70. Stevenson's statement was reflected by Adams in Architecture in the Family Way (1996) where she notes that, after 1870, experts 'saw such interaction as dangerous and unhealthy. It too closely resembled working-class living conditions': 139. 3 2 9 Ibid: 71. 107 the space designated for children, that it be separate from, but near to, that of the mother, the whole integrated as part of a private, family suite. In country houses built for middle class owners throughout the nineteenth century, space allocated for children was located either immediately above, or adjacent to, the family suite. A precedent for this was apparent as early as 1840, when William Burn had placed the nursery suite at Stoke Rochford Hall immediately above the rooms allocated to the parents:330 It was a trend that continued for several more generations. In 1864, Lewis Vulliamy, the architect for Westonbirt, located the nurseries over the private rooms of the parents to create a specific and separate family wing.3 3 1 Later in the century, it would appear that convenience and practicality had become major considerations for, as Stevenson advised, the nursery and family suites should 'all be on a level, access to steps or stairs being dangerous for young children, arid increasing immensely the trouble of looking after them.'332 At Bear Wood, Kerr had anticipated such considerations and had also responded to the mandate that children be in close proximity to the family suite. He placed the nursery suite between the family apartment and the rooms allocated to the female domestics. On the south front of the first floor, but separated from the family apartments by the back stairs, Kerr provided the Walter children with what he called 'self-enclosed' accommodation' with a nursery corridor, a night nursery, a day nursery, a room for nurse, a scullery, a bathroom 3 3 0 William Burn designed Stoke Rochford Hall for M r & Mrs Turnor. Franklin notes that 'the juxtaposition of the rooms in his houses works as neatly as the cells in a beehive, both in vertical and horizontal relationships'. The Gentleman's Country House (1981): 153. 3 3 1 Lewis Vulliamy began Westonbirt for M r & Mrs Robert Holford in 1863. 3 3 2 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 70. Such concerns for practicality and convenience could not always be accommodated, however, particularly in urban areas or in households of the less affluent middle class where space was more limited in the domestic interior. Where space was limited, children continued to be located on the upper-most floors of the house. 108 and a convenient nearby strangers' nursery or sick room.3 3 3 Between this suite and the family rooms was the school room, adjacent to which was space conveniently allocated to the governess.334 For the children of the Walter family, their accommodation, with its 'Garden entrance and Staircase' was such that, as Kerr noted, 'nothing can be a more exquisitely English touch of domestic refinement'.335 And, in this one phrase, manifested in his plans for Bear Wood, it might be said that Kerr managed to sum up ideologies of patriotism, domesticity and refinement, all of which were integral to the image that nineteenth century middle class families wished to convey.336 Despite the 'guiding function' of the mother, the responsibilities for the daily regime for children in a family, such as the Walters, devolved upon 'their own special servants'.337 Of both the spatial arrangements and the regime, F.M.L. Thompson notes that they were intended to bring children up in a highly structured, orderly, and regimented routine, partly to make life easy for parents by keeping children out of the way except when they were wanted, and partly because this was regarded as the best way to train character and prepare children for their eventual adult duties and responsibilities.338 Secluded in their private domain, children were under the daily supervision of servants who were also expected to adhere to middle class standards. This meant that, as subordinate members of the household, both were required to obey a regime based on middle class values such as morality, obedience and duty. As Annemarie Adams notes, separated from the mainstream of household life and from adult spaces in the home, 'children who had once Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 146. There were indications in the exterior architecture at Bear Wood that the south front represented the private, domestic area of occupation. See Part III (1.3). 3 3 4 This traditional placement of the governess, neither in the main house, nor in the servants' wing, served to underscore both her financial dependency and her marginalized position in the domestic hierarchy. 3 3 5 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 146. 3 3 6 Ibid: 144. 3 3 7 Thompson, The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 125. 3 3 8 Ibid.: 126. 109 mingled freely with adults in the public life-style of the Middle Ages' were, largely because of the concept of middle class ethos, not only 'precluded [from] mixing outside one's own [class]' but, under the jurisdiction of a 'strict moral code by which many parents sought to raise their children [meant that it] prohibited the free intercourse that children had hitherto enjoyed'.339 The wealth of a middle class family such as the Walters at Bear Wood, allowed for the perception of how children should be accommodated in the domestic interior to be implemented to its fullest extent. This meant that the most extensive, compartmentalized, self-enclosed space, entirely separate from the daily activities of the household, could be allocated for the children. However, the fact that such space, however extensive, was a requirement in the spatial planning of the domestic interior can also be seen as an indication of the diversity with which the middle class, whatever its status, represented itself. On the one hand, it would appear that the location of the children in close proximity to the mother inferred that she reflected nineteenth century middle class ideals based on her 'guiding function' and on an apparent intimacy between her and her children. As Adams suggests, she might 'set an example'.340 In such an idealized role, as 'Domina, or House-Lady', Ruskin saw her as the epitome of true womanhood, at the 'centre of order' in the household.341 On the other hand, distanced from the quotidian life of the household and raised, primarily, by servants, the children were, as F.M.L. Thompson notes: subordinate to their parents, around whose convenience and pleasure the whole household revolved; they obeyed parental proxies, even though they were superior to the lower servants; they learnt almost 3 3 9 Adams in Architecture in the Family Way quotes historian, Susan Lasdun, Victorians at Home (1981): 138. 3 4 0 Adams, Architecture in the Family Way (1996): 139. 3 4 1 Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies (1887): 165. 110 from the cradle that their place was to be seen and not heard...342 this is supported by Adams, who writes of the seclusion of children from adult space, indicating that they were not subjected to any consistent, pervasive influence of the mother. This is illustrated, for example, in contemporary nineteenth century pictorial images of parental involvement with children. In family domestic scenes, a servant was usually depicted in the background inferring, as Adams suggests, that the 'children's occupation of adult space requires the servant's supervision'.343 Although the degree of the seclusion of the children from the mainstream of the household varied according to the financial resources of the family and the concomitant space for their exclusive use, their separation meant they were supervised to a large extent by servants, rather than entirely by the mother. As Adams notes, the latter arrangement would have 'too closely resembled working-class living conditions'.344 Added to this, the degree by which children could be separated from the adult spaces of the house was a distinct mark of class status in that it indicated that the family could afford the space in which to accommodate them apart from the general household. As Kerr noted, 'in houses where superior servants are to be calculated upon, the care of the mother has only in a small degree to be provided for'.3 4 5 Hence, even though largely raised by servants, children, particularly in a wealthier nineteenth century middle class household were accommodated in space especially allocated to them in proximity to that occupied by the mother. It was a system that was intended to not only reflect status, but also reflect middle class values that mother and children 3 4 2 Thompson, The Rise of Respectable Society (1988): 127. 3 4 3 Adams, Architecture in the Family Way (1996): 138. For example, "Many Happy Returns" painted by W.P. Frith (1819-1909) portrays such a scene. Children who spent too much time with adults were known, somewhat derisively, as parlour-children. 3 4 4 Adams, Architecture in the Family Way (1996): 139. 3 4 5 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 144. I l l represented the idealized family unit, perceived to be an integral component of domestic felicity. 112 P A R T I V T H E D O M E S T I C I N T E R I O R (4.7) On the issue of efficient and productive work ethics The spatial organization of the domestic interior, particularly with the provision of compartmentalized, task-specific, or even gender-specific space for working areas, was a means by which nineteenth century middle class requirements of an efficient and productive work ethic could be implemented and maintained. In the fields of commerce and manufacturing, as well as in the domestic" realm, efficiency, with its resultant productivity, were mandates that conformed to the Evangelical doctrine of the morally redeeming power of hard work, the salutatory benefits of which, both moral and material, lay at the very heart of Victorian middle class dogma. The effects of industrialization had contributed to expectations, particularly with the capitalist ambitions of an entrepreneurial middle class, that an efficiency of operation should result in increased productivity. Such expectations had been grounded, for example, in the field of manufacturing, where architectural form and spatial organization had accommodated more advanced technology that, in turn, increased efficiency. It was a precedent that had been at the turn of the previous century, for instance, with the construction of factory spaces, such as at Shrewsbury M i l l . 3 4 6 Here, architectural form had specifically accommodated the longer drive shafts of technically advanced machinery which, 3 4 6 Shrewsbury M i l l built 1796/7 was the first factory to incorporate cast iron columns, beams and window frames. It was also the first in which an optimal shape and building materials were tested to withstand the weight of steam-driven machines, so allowing for an increase in production. 113 in turn, allowed for a more efficient and convenient placement of the machines and, hence, for increased production.347 As the nineteenth century progressed and the middle class became more influential in the social order, such objectives were transposed into the spatial organization of the domestic sphere. Particularly in the homes of the entrepreneurial middle class, similar capitalist expectations of productivity, based on efficiency and convenience were demanded from those employed in the household. In a house like Bear Wood, in which evidence of many middle class tenets can be identified, it is apparent that the architectural form was designed to accommodate the components by which such demands could be implemented. The floor plan not only indicates this, but it also makes it clear that the spatial organization placed such demands on the servants, rather than on the family household. Kerr advocated a clear demarcation between space allocated to family and servants. For the former, his concerns were for comfort, rather than for efficiency, so that the aspect, salubrity and the prospect of space designated for their use should, as Kerr put it, contribute to the 'pleasantness of the apartment'.348 At Bear Wood, the south-facing apartments overlooked the prospect of terrace, lake and estate, those at the west the formal gardens and croquet lawn, the north, the main driveway approach. For the domestic offices in which the servants operated, there was no such concern for comfort, pleasantness or salubrity, only that neither aspect nor prospect should deter from the efficiency of their work. The preferable aspect of a kitchen, for example, should face what Kerr noted as the 'Northward cold', to provide good light and so that the interior 3 4 7 Technology, such as the introduction of cast iron components and cement, had allowed for this more advanced form of architecture. 3 4 8 Kerr, TAe Gentleman's House (1865): 79. 114 temperature would not be further increased by sunshine.349 At Bear Wood, the kitchen offices faced east, an equally appropriate aspect for, according to Kerr, it was 'exposed to the well-known bitterness of the East wind', an alternative that would have provided the requisite cooler temperatures and so, presumably, have contributed to more productivity on the part of the servants. Kerr also ensured that the prospect of the domestic offices at Bear Wood would not inhibit efficiency, for the rooms in which the servants worked overlooked either the confinements of the Kitchen court, or the laundry and stables. An efficiency of operation was assisted by the convenience gained by the close proximity of space to which similar functions were prescribed, a system that reflected commercial manufacturing practices. 'Convenience', noted Kerr, 'refers to the active...the component parts' that 'shall enable all the uses and purposes of the establishment to be carried out in perfect harmony'.350 At Bear Wood where, in an affirmation of planning aimed at efficiency, practicality and convenience, the fuel closet was close to the kitchen, the cleaning and brushing rooms centred on the footman's room. The butler's room was adjacent to the plate safe, the servery and the dining room and also overlooked the approach to the carriage porch and the luggage entrance. Next to the luggage entrance was the housekeeper's room, conveniently overlooking the access to both the housekeeper's corridor and the kitchen court. Past the still room and the women's work room, the corridor lead to the kitchen entrance corridor, along which were related offices. There was a housemaids' closet on every floor of Bear Wood, a practice condoned by Stevenson as a 'great convenience...in every house with any pretension to good planning'.351 It would Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7 / ( 1 8 8 0 ) : 9 7 . 1 1 5 appeax that the attention paid to the 'good planning' of the spatial organization of the domestic interior confirms that convenience was considered a major factor for an efficiency of operation, a concern that nineteenth century architects, including Kerr, upheld.352 This concern was also apparent to the reviewer of The Gentleman's House, in that Kerr's maxims for the design of the domestic interior were endorsed with the statement that 'certainly those sacrificing convenience cannot belong to good architecture'.353 However efficient or convenient the spatial organization of the domestic interior of a house such as Bear Wood was, productive results also depended on those who operated within that space. Middle class ethos stressed the morally redeeming benefits of hard work, achieved as much by the work ethics of the individual as by the efficiency or convenience of architectural planning. Under the rubric of the Evangelical doctrine reflected in the values to which the middle class subscribed, the efficacy of 'industry and work' was, as Richard Altick notes, 'the moral imperative...identified with that of faith and elevated into a virtual eleventh commandment by Carlyle: "For there is a perennial nobleness, and even sacredness, in Work...'"3 5 4 Such a moral onus placed on the servants of a middle class domestic household, had, necessarily, to be maintained. Servants were meant to be inspired by adages such as "Waste Not, Want Not" often prominently displayed in kitchens. The onus for self-discipline and management was supported by regulations to which servants were expected to adhere, an expectation often enforced by rules that required, for instance, that 'breakages not mentioned within the day must be made good'.3 5 5 As with the tenants A study of floor plans for contemporaneous country houses illustrated in Franklin, The Gentleman's Country House (1981) confirms this. 353 The Builder, "The Gentleman's House", January 7, 1865:3. 3 5 4 Altick, Victorian People and Ideas (1973): 168 & 169. 3 5 5 Briggs, Victorian Things (1988): 258. 116 in the estate village attached to a country house, non-compliance to proscribed standards by the domestic servants could mean termination of employment, an act confirmed by the nineteenth century Reverend Baldwin Brown who remarked upon the 'dependence of the class that supplies our servants'.356 Kerr, in addition to his 'convenient distribution' of space and its organization, gave considerable and detailed advice on the contents of these work-designated spaces to further lend to efficient and productive habits.357 The Gentleman's House provided instruction on both dimensions and placement of equipment for, in the interests of convenience, efficiency and practicality, there was, as Kerr insisted, a 'place for everything'.358 His was an objective to not only accommodate efficiency, but that would also subscribe to a further characteristic by which the middle class identified themselves, that of an awareness of progress being made in the fields of technology and science. This was a tradition that had been in effect over the centuries. In 1610, Robert Bainbridge issued Some Rules and Orders for the Government of the House of an Earle. The Footman's Directory of 1825 was also a list of rules to be followed. Both quoted in Girouard, A Country House Companion (1987): 129 & 135. In country houses such as 18th century Erdigg or Woburn Abbey, rules directed at servants were painted on boards, where they remain in situ. 3 5 6 Briggs, Victorian Things (1988): 259. 3 5 7 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 200. : 3 5 8 Ibid: 71. 117 P A R T IV T H E D O M E S T I C I N T E R I O R (4.8) Issues of technology and scientific progress It would appear from the copious and detailed advice offered in The Gentleman's House that Kerr considered himself to be a man of the modern nineteenth century, Who recognized the advantages offered by advances made in both science and technology. Much of Kerr's theoretical advice can be seen to have been put into practice at Bear Wood, perhaps to asseverate perceptions, not only of status and prestige, but also of the grasp that owner and architect had of progressive modernity. Kerr designed Bear Wood for a man who was technically-minded, indeed, 'destined...to effect organic and far-reaching improvements in the mechanical production of 'The Times".3 5 9 According to Girouard, Walter had been 'personally responsible for giving The Times the most up-to-date printing works in the world' 3 6 0 Walter's interest in the field was evident when, in 1886, on a voyage to America, he 'spent most of his time in the engine room'.3 6 1 Kerr's mandate that the operation of a gentleman's house be 'that of a great well- oiled machine running on so many cogs, of which the highest possible praise was to say "it ran like clockwork'" was diligently attended to by the incorporation of much of the very latest technology into Bear Wood. As Julian Orbach affirms, Bear Wood was 'built to the most advanced technological standards of the day'.3 6 2 Requirements for efficiency and productivity in the domestic realm reflected contemporary commercial manufacturing 3 5 9 Dictionary of National Biography, "Walter, John (1818-1894): 715. 3 6 0 Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1979): 122. 3 6 1 Ibid. 3 6 2 Orbach, Victorian Architecture in Britain (1987): 52. 118 practices that depended on technological progress. In the commercial sphere, a focus on maximum production, aided by the combination of time management and efficient machinery, had underwritten the fortunes accumulated by many middle class entrepreneurs. In keeping, John Walter oversaw the installation of mechanically-improved printing presses that increased output for less cost and so subscribed to a mandate for maximum efficiency and production, not only in business, but also in his domestic realm.363 Nineteenth century concerns for efficiency and practicality were also aided by scientific progress. That the middle class saw themselves as purveyors of such progress is suggested by Kerr who likened the 'character' of the kitchen to that of 'a complicated laboratory'.364 With the integration of advances made by both technology and science into their lifestyles, it might be argued that middle class owners and architects perceived themselves as representing the vigour and progressiveness by which their class wished to be identified. At the same time, however, their application of scientific and technological advances to the domestic interior provided a means by which middle class ideals of efficiency, convenience and comfort could be accommodated. An overview of contemporary issues of the Building News supports this.365 Each issue was prefaced by several pages of advertisements for the latest in building supplies and materials that featured an extensively diverse range of items covering the complete spectrum of domestic 3 6 3 Girouard cites other 19th. century middle class owners of country houses who were also 'technically minded', such as Wright at Ormaston, Thorneycroft at Tettenhall and Armstrong at Cragside. The Victorian Country House (1979): 18. 3 6 4 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 44. 3 6 5 Issues surveyed covered 1874 - 1875. The latest in building materials, for instance, offered Dennetts Fire-Proof Construction or Creeke's Patent Capped Drain Pipes. 119 requirements, from materials suitable for both roof and drainage, to the most up-to-date cooking appliances and plumbing accessories.366 As has been noted, the most modern materials were used in the construction of Bear Wood. In addition, it is apparent that many of the latest advances in scientific progress and technology were incorporated into Kerr's design for the interior. The floor plan indicates 'Heating' at the base of the principal staircase, where a circular, cast iron radiator for central heating was installed.367 Heated with hot water from a boiler in the kitchen court, next to which was the engine house for pumping water from the adjacent water tower, radiators such as this ensured that the comfort of central heating supplemented heat emitted from fireplaces.368 Also included in the floor plan were bathrooms and WCs, indicating that plumbing for water, drainage and sewage was installed on each floor. A gasworks, built by the lake, provided the house with gas lighting.369 A life, located near the back stairs, rather than in the main house, so presumably intended for the convenience of hauling luggage, Other publications supported this. For example, Charles Eastlake published Hints on Household Taste in 1878. In 1880, J.J. Stevenson published House Architecture, Vols. I & II. With a concern for hygiene, both paid considerable attention to drainage, heating and ventilation, as well as to the use of easily cleaned modern materials, such as encaustic tiles. At Brodsworth Hall, the latest invention of a linoleum manufactured under the name of 'Silentium' made to imitate parquet flooring, was laid in the billiard room. Source: English Heritage, Brodsworth Hall (1995): 19. 3 6 7 This huge, circular cast iron radiator remains in situ at the base of the principal staircase. 3 6 8 A 'ponderous' heating apparatus was installed at the cost of over S3,000.00. Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1979): 122. The incorporation of the latest in scientific progress into country houses continued. Less than a decade later at Wykehurst, E.M.Barry used a cavity wall construction, double-framed fireproof floors of iron and concrete, as well as warm air heating and internal water pipes that supplied water to all floors. The pipes were protected from freezing by running through hot air flues. Source: Mitchell, Victorian Britain (1988): 36. 3 6 9 Although Kerf does not address them in The Gentleman's House, Stevenson in House Architecture, Vol. II (1880) discusses concerns for heat, ventilation and the contamination of the atmosphere emitted from gas lighting in Chapter X H : "Artificial Lighting": 254-256. The architect, S.S. Teuton (1812-1873) had pioneered the use of gas for domestic lighting at Tortworth, built between 1849 & 1852. In 1878, Cragside, owned by Sir William Armstrong, steel and shipping magnate, became the first domestic building in the world in which electric lights, powered by the estate's water-driven generator, were installed. Armstrong's interest in technology was also evident in the grounds of Cragside, where could be found 'examples of hydraulics and engineering'. The National Trust, Cragside, Northumberland (1992): 5. 120 connected the main with the top floor. In 1887, a decade or so after the completion of the house, a private telephone wire was installed at Bear Wood, indicating an ongoing interest on the part of the owner that the latest technological and scientific advances be incorporated into the house.371 The integration of technology and scientific progress into nineteenth century country houses was of concern primarily to the middle class, an inclination that set them apart from other classes. Whilst it is obvious that the less affluent members of the middle class and the working classes did not have the financial resources with which to incorporate the latest in technology into their houses, it would appear that, with some exceptions, such as Eaton Hall, where indoor plumbing was installed during remodelling in the 1870s, or Hatfield, where electric light was installed in 1881, few aristocratic country houses boasted technically-advanced appliances.372 Perhaps it was that, for the aristocracy, traditional ways by which their domestic interiors had operated died hard, traditions that could, in the mid- nineteenth century, still be supported by an unlimited supply of cheap domestic labour. Or, perhaps it was, as Girouard suggests, that middle class requirements for domestic comfort and convenience, for efficiency and practicality were generally considered by the aristocracy to be the province of the 'nouveau-riche, as unhealthy, or, even worse, American'.373 Issues of domestic comfort, convenience, efficiency and practicality were addressed in detail Until William Armstrong of Cragside pioneered hydraulic power for domestic use in the 1870s, it is likely that the Lift at Bear Wood was originally operated manually. 3 7 1 Receipts for the annual rental of the private telephone wire from March 15, 1887 to March 14, 1888 show a sum of S44.15.00. Ref: DE WL F13 RO. 3 7 2 Girouard in The Victorian Country House (1979) lists 11 country houses that, to his knowledge, had electric light by the 1880s. Of these, only Hatfield (in 1881) Eaton (in 1887) belonged to aristocrats, the remaining 9 having belonged to middle class owners. 3 7 3 Ibid: 18. Hare, The Story oj'My Life (2nd. series) (1890). Both John Walter and Robert Kerr travelled to America. Kerr spent part of his youth i n America where, according to Hitchcock, 'as well known to Victorians, radicalism was contagious in all fields of thought'. Early Victorian Architecture in Britain (1954): 606. 121 in the works of both Kerr and Stevenson, primarily, it is suggested, to accommodate middle class requirements in the domestic sphere. Such requirements were to be perceived in the nineteenth century as luxuries associated with the middle class for, as Girouard notes, 'in his interminable country house peregrinations' Augustus Hare 'used the word 'luxurious' almost exclusively for the houses of the new rich'. 3 7 4 Evidence of the practical application of mechanical science and technology incorporated into a country house like Bear Wood is a means by which its owner can be identified as a man of practicality, in step with the progresses of the age, who represented many of the values by which the middle class wished to be identified. Even if was only the more affluent members of the middle class who were able to be more amenable to incorporate the very latest technological and scientific developments into their homes, it distinguished them with an identity that inferred an active subscription to the progress of modern society. It was an identity that set them, as representatives of the middle class, apart from either the aristocratic or the working classes. Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1979): 19. Augustus Hare, The Story of My Life (2nd. series) (1890). 122 PART IV T H E DOMESTIC INTERIOR (4.9) Issues of health, sanitation and hygiene In addition to the employment of advanced technology and materials, attention was given during the construction of country houses, like Bear Wood, to other principles on which nineteenth century middle class tenets were founded. Such principles focused on the importance of maintaining standards of health and hygiene, considered by the middle class values to be analogous to moral rectitude. As Robin Evans notes, there developed 'an intimate bond between physical and moral degradation', which meant that it became an imperative that issues of sanitation, health and hygiene be addressed.375 Concerns for the provision of sanitary facilities in the interests of health and hygiene were apparent throughout the social order. As a result, during the century considerable attention was paid to systems of sanitation whereby concerns focused on the efficiency and the location of the arrangements for drainage, water supplies and cesspools, as well as for ventilation and heating.376 Largely underwritten by middle class values, concerns for sanitary arrangements were addressed in the public arena. In state-run institutions such as hospitals, prisons and asylums, used, primarily, by the lower classes, prevalent middle class values that set standards for health and hygiene meant attention to ventilation and heating, as well as access to uncontaminated water and adequate sewerage systems.377 3 7 5 Evans, Translations from Drawing to Architecture (1997): 95. 3 7 6 Also consistently advertised were Doulton's Closet Pans & Traps awarded "5 medals for progress and merit". 3 7 7 In 1861, the death of the Prince Consort from typhoid fever, presumed to have been contracted from the faulty drains at Windsor Casde, had acerbated public concerns for sanitary arrangements, as did recurrent contagious epidemics. 123 Similar standards for sanitation extended into middle class homes, although such pragmatic concerns were not new or specific to the nineteenth century middle class. The provision of water for domestic use had always been a concern, with the consequent careful siting of houses historically near a supply of water and on raised ground to allow for drainage flow. Mechanical means of pumping water, such as water wheels driven by water or animal power, were in evidence in the seventeenth century, a system later superceded by the invention of steam-powered engines.378 However, although some country houses, such as Blenheim, Woburn or Carlshalton boasted bath houses or plunge baths in the eighteenth century, a concern for hygiene or sanitation was not extensive, even among the wealthy.379 In Girouard's opinion, this was because 'personal cleanliness did not rank high enough', so that the consequent 'lack of progress in sanitation was due to a combination of cheap labour, lack of demand and technical disadvantages'.380. Prevalent middle class standards of health and hygiene were acknowledged by nineteenth century architects and applied to the domestic interior. At Bear Wood, Kerr demonstrated his subscription to such values, not only to the latest advances in technology, but also to demands that middle class standards for sanitary arrangements be accommodated. He installed a total of twenty two water closets at Bear Wood, so following the maxim he addressed in the 'The Supplementaries' section of The Gentleman's House. Of 'primary consideration', he wrote about water closets, was to be a 'sufficient 3 7 8 At Uppark, the first effective domestic water pump had been installed in 1650. At Greys Court, a donkey wheel was used to raise water from the well. (It remains the only complete one in existence and was in use until electricity was brought onto the estate in the 1920s.) James Watt perfected the steam engine c. 1764. 3 7 9 Carshalton House (1719-1720) was built for Sir John Fellowes, a director of the South Sea Company. 3 8 0 Girouard, Life in the English Country House (1978): 256. 1 2 4 number' and 'properly distributed'.381 However, this was advice that was later tempered by Stevenson, who remarked that the 'tendency of modern planning has been to increase their number, scattering them all over the house instead of placing a less number in convenient situations'.382 Miasmic concerns were also an issue to Stevenson in that the 'tendency of modern planning' to increase the number of water closets could prove to be an 'additional source of fever from sewer gas'.383 However, in the general interests of health and hygiene, as well as in the interests of modesty and moral rectitude, both Kerr and Stevenson concurred that water closets be in 'private situations', together with a ready and abundant supply of water and an efficient means of drainage.384 It would appear that the provision of bathrooms in the houses of the more affluent was not only to appease middle class standards for health and hygiene, but that they were also regarded as a status symbol.385 At Bear Wood, five bathrooms were installed which, despite its large size, was, according to Girouard, 'a very generous supply for a Victorian house'.386 Such a number reflected Kerr's directive that 'no house of any pretensions will be devoid of a general Bathroom; and in a large house there must be several of these'.387 The floor plan for Bear Wood indicates that the bathrooms were allocated to family and guests, with none specified for the servants, indicating that Kerr's directive that 'in an establishment of importance, a Servants' Bath-room also ought to be provided in their 3 8 1 Kerr, The Gentleman's Country House (1865): 152. 3 8 2 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 74. 3 8 3 Ibid. 3 8 4 As early as 1778, Joseph Bramah had patented efficient WCs with valves. The December 14, 1874 edition of The Building News carried correspondence dealing with the issue of 'sewer gases and a scientific and safe water-closet': 682. 3 8 5 Bathrooms in this context refers to rooms for bathing, not WCs. 3 8 6 Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1979): 268 & 269. Stoke Rochford, built by the middle class Tumor family had two bathrooms in 1839, whereas, 'as late as 1873, Carlton Towers [owned by the aristocratic Beaumonts] had none'. Ibid: 22. 3 8 7 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 150. 125 department' was not followed.388 Despite this, it might be assumed that the application of contemporary middle class standards of health and hygiene were intended to extend to household servants, an assumption supported by Stevenson, who wrote, T think the servants should have the use of a bath', although he cautioned, 'but they will not use it unless it has hot water'.389 In addition to systems for domestic sanitation, Kerr also paid significant theoretical attention to other concerns considered important for maintaining middle class standards, such as ventilation and heating, for the main part of a house as well as for the servants' area. For family and guests, ventilation, along with facilities for heating, were seen in terms of their domestic comfort. As Stevenson confirmed, on the arrangements for 'such as heating and flues, ventilation...the comfort of a house in a great measure depends'.390 Despite such apparent demands for comfort, Stephen Fiske, an American travelling in England in 1869, noted attitudes that 'heated air is considerably unhealthy...The English wrap themselves up to cross the hall as though they were going out of doors...'391 For servants, however, the provision of adequate ventilation and heating was not, Kerr admonished, to be regarded as a 'matter of luxury'.3 9 2 Rather, in the interests of their efficiency and productivity, it was important that the health of servants be sustained by adequate standards of ventilation. Concerns for ventilation were based on contemporary theories of the benefits of fresh air to counter the spread of disease, concerns reflected in Ruskin's anxieties about the 3 8 8 Ibid: 151. The 5 bathrooms installed at Bear Wood were situated as follows: 1 in the family suite, 1 in the nursery, 1 in the young ladies' suite and 1 for guests on each of the two bedroom floors. 3 8 9 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 75. 3 9 0 Ibid.: 212. 3 9 1 Fiske, English Photographs (1869): 196-197 quoted in Girouard, The Victorian Country House (1979): 27. 3 9 2 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 202. 126 world outside the domestic sphere, included in which was the spread of infection.393 In the public realm, theories about the benefits of fresh air had been implemented, for example, in hospitals where the pavilion style of construction and 'Nightingale' wards were designed to allow cross-ventilation. A similarly well-ventilated domestic interior was also important to maintain the health of the servants. In the same way that the presence of servants could, as the architectural historian, Jill Franklin notes, threaten the 'illusion of family privacy and possibly even family purity', so risks of contamination from servants could be a potential threat to familial health.394 In addition, in the interests of efficiency and productivity of servants, Kerr noted in the section entitled 'Light and Air and Salubrity' in The Gentleman's House that ventilation 'ought to be placed at a maximum' in the 'Offices' so that the 'labour of service may be performed with advantage'.395 To underscore the importance he attached to the issue of ventilation, he addressed it comprehensively when advising on domestic offices, from kitchen to cloakrooms, from scullery to servants' bedrooms. That heat was of secondary concern and not considered necessary for the comfort of the servants was evidenced by Kerr's advocation that although 'every [servant's] room ought to have a fireplace, and good light and ventilation', the fireplace was 'for use in case of illness if no more...'396 Reflecting attention being paid to the benefits of fresh air and, presumably, with little regard for heating the interior occupied by servants, he also advised, 'let every room...and every passage be...sufficiently ventilated from the external atmosphere'.397 Water closets, 3 9 3 Adams in Architecture in the Family Way (1996) cites Ruskin's anxieties: 5. 3 9 4 Franklin, The Gentleman's Country House (1981): 88. Franklin suggests that 'there is no doubt that the Victorians were terrified of sexual encounters between gentlemen and pretty housemaids'. 3 9 5 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (11865): 202. 3 9 6 Ibid: 250 & 251. 127 too, were to be 'thoroughly ventilated and directly lighted from the open air'. 3 y s For architects,̂ it was, said Kerr, the 'very best of skilful [sic] design, in the consideration whether the Offices are fresh and wholesome'399 Architectural concerns for what Kerr cited as a 'fresh and wholesome' domestic environment extended to include other concerns, such as cooking odours. Presumably linked to miasmic concerns that the atmosphere be salubrious, the 'offensive vapours' 'engendered' by cooking were considered undesirable by middle class standards for health and hygiene.400 It was an issue also addressed by Stevenson who noted that 'the thought of the architect' could prevent family and guests from being greeted by the 'sickly odour' of cooking 'in the halls and passages...[or by] an atmosphere [that] has an accumulated a taint of perpetual cooking'.4 0 1 As Kerr had noted, the risk of cooking odours penetrating the main part of a house could be minimized by the architect ensuring that provisions be made to intercept them. Such provisions included an efficient means of ventilation, preferably a system of cross-ventilation, together with adequate distance and turns in the route leading from kitchen to dining room. A well-planned ventilation system would, according to Kerr, 'ultimately carry off, but meanwhile...prevent from spreading or even stagnating' offensive odours.402 At Bear Wood, Kerr was able to deal effectively with distancing the kitchen from the dining room by locating it some one hundred and fifty feet from the latter along a circuitous main corridor route, from which it was separated by a kitchen entrance corridor 3 9 8 Ibid: 152. 3 9 9 Ibid: 202. 4 0 0 Ibid. 4 0 1 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 11 (1880): 82 & 83. 4 0 2 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 202. 128 and a kitchen lobby.403 That Kerr could do this can be interpreted as an indication of the prestige of the owner in that the financial resources of John Walter meant that the dining room could be so far distanced from the kitchen. The ability to do this in a domestic interior also served to separate the wealthier representatives of the middle class who occupied extensive domestic space from those of the lower orders, for whom the odour of cooking could only be justified by architects as being comforting and inviting. Placing the kitchen in Bear Wood at a distance from the main part of the house, however, was not ah architectural innovation. In previous centuries, kitchen pavilions had also been distanced from the main house, as seen at country houses such as Petworth, Uppark or Kedleston4 0 4 Then, the primary intention had been to minimize the risk of fire from open cooking ranges from destroying the entire house but, by the mid-nineteenth century when technically- advanced houses such as Bear Wood were constructed, cooking was carried out on closed ranges, thus reducing the risk of fire.405 As has been stated, the attention and concern focused on issues of hygiene and health in the nineteenth century sprang from middle class values that subscribed to notions of propriety and common decency, wherein good standards of hygiene were considered 4 0 3 Franklin notes that, at Mentmore, 'even by Victorian standards the dinner service route was incomprehensibly torturous'. The Gentleman's Country House (1981): 138. The elimination of cooking smells appeared to take precedence over the serving of hot food, although Stevenson addressed the issue in House Architecture, Vol. 11 (1880) when he suggested that, in the service- room adjacent to the dining room, 'it is convenient ...to fix a hot-closet, heated by the general hot-water circulation of the house or by gas, for keeping the dishes which arrive from the kitchen hot till they are wanted...': 97. 4 0 4 At both Petworth (c. 1680) and Uppark (c. 1750) the kitchen facilities were housed in separate buildings, connected to the house by underground tunnels that not only provided protection from the elements, but kept servants from view. At Kedleston, the kitchen was located in the west wing pavilion, connected to the main house by an enclosed semi-circular colonnade. 4 0 5 Manufactures such as H . Walker & Son made the 'Eagle' range, Dinning & Cooke made roasting and oven ranges. By 1872, steam-powered cooking apparatus was in use. Source: The National Trust, Petworth, the Servants' Quarters (1997): 9. 129 analogous to moral decency. The nineteenth century perception that good standards of health and hygiene went hand-in-hand with middle class notions of domestic, familial felicity and moral propriety is inferred by the frequent use of such inspirational adages as ' A Healthy Home is a Happy Home', or 'Cleanliness is next to Godliness'. Muthesius was to take the analogy of middle class standards of health and hygiene as representing a responsible and harmonious social order one step further. In considering the value of a 'modern English house' as a model, he equated nineteenth century middle class concerns with cleanliness, bathing and bodily hygiene with cultural progress, an equation that, it might be argued, reflected contemporary middle class perceptions of how they wished to be identified.406 However, despite this investiture of cultural progress on the middle class, despite the evidence that its values pervaded the social order, there was recognition that the means by which health and hygiene could be maintained in the domestic interior were a prerogative of the affluent. This, too, was to set the middle class apart from the working class for, as Stevenson noted with some perception, 'fresh air and cleanliness are the luxuries of the well fed and well clothed'.407 4 0 6 Muthesius, The English House (1979): 95. First published as Das Englishe Haus in 1904/5, it was the result of the time Muthesius had spent in England between 1860 and 1900. 4 0 7 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 3. 130 PART TV T H E DOMESTIC INTERIOR (4.10) The issue of displaying cultural artefacts The display of cultural acquisitions in a domestic setting has always been a means by which attributes such as erudite acuity, elite taste, wealth and status could be aesthetically affirmed. By the sixteenth century, the domestic space in which cultural artefacts were exhibited was generally in the form of a long gallery, an enclosed apartment in which exercise could be taken.408 A display of portraits was intended to impress the viewer with the status of the family, as well as with images of those of influence connected, in some way, to the owner.409 By the eighteenth century, the long gallery often formed part of an entire enfilade of public rooms in which a collection of cultural artefacts could be viewed.410 With this enfilade of rooms replaced, in nineteenth century country houses, by a matrix of enclosed spaces, there appeared to be no requirement that the public spaces of the domestic interior serve as repositories in which to specifically display artworks. This observation might be warranted by a survey of the floor plans for nineteenth century country houses in Frankhn's The Gentleman's Country House.411 These floor plans reveal that, with the exception of Bear Wood, there was no specific allocation of space in which to display works of art.412 In spite of this, it cannot be assumed that the affluent 4 0 8 For example, a long gallery was in place in Longleat by 1572, in Hardwick Hall by 1590 & that at Penshurst Place was finished in 1607. 4 0 9 This might be considered an antecedent to the signed photographs that were to be similarly displayed in the domestic sphere, particularly in a country house setting. 4 1 0 This was true at Syon, for example, where in 1762 Robert Adam remodelled the Jacobean long gallery to be part of the enfilade of rooms that encircled all four sides of the house. 4 1 1 Franklin illustrates 10 floor plans, including Bear Wood, for country houses built between 1835 and 1870. 4 1 2 The exception of Bear Wood will be addressed later in the section. 131 middle class owners of these houses did not purchase or possess artefacts. In fact, both Kerr and Stevenson offered advice on how and where art should be displayed in the domestic interior. Kerr appeared to attach some significance to both ownership and the intrinsic worth of art when he noted that '...a valuable collection of pictures ought to be properly displayed, - not merely put up on the walls of the Family-room at hazard'.413 Stevenson acknowledged that 'special galleries for pictures and sculptures' were sometimes necessary but, in line with nineteenth century middle class requirements for private, domestic space, he advised that it be 'better in most cases to use works of art for adorning rooms we live in' 4 1 4 Despite such acknowledgments, it would appear that any provision for the display of cultural artefacts in the domestic interior of nineteenth century country houses was not an architectural priority. This was in contrast to the spatial organization of country houses built in previous centuries, where the architectural form for the interior had accommodated the exhibition of collections of art works so that they could be viewed by a visiting public. By the mid-nineteenth century, a shift in such architectural priorities was evident. For example, in The Gentleman's House, a definitive treatise offering a plethora of architectural advice, with a minutiae of detailed and comprehensive suggestions, Kerr gave only cursory attention to architectural considerations for the display of cultural artefacts. Compared to the spatial organization of other areas of the domestic interior for which Kerr's discourse offered specific advice that extended to diagrammatic suggestions, even to the dimensions and placement of furniture and equipment, his information on what he referred to as 'Galleries of Art' was markedly sparse. Although he did address the practical issues of Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 451. Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 65. 132 lighting, size, and door placement, he indicated that the major consideration in planning such apartments was not for the aesthetic display of works of art. Rather, with concern for contemporary middle class requirements for domestic felicity, he cautioned that the spatial organization be such that 'family comfort not be sacrificed'.415 Kerr's concern exactly dovetailed with contemporary requirements that both the architectural expression and the spatial organization of a middle class home accommodate one of the most pervasive elements of middle class requirements, that of the insular, family sphere. The concomitant compartmentalization and the division of the domestic interior to provide this private space took precedence over any concerns for the display of cultural artefacts. Instead, as noted by Stevenson, it was expected that works of art be incorporated into the domestic space as a contribution to family comfort or enjoyment, rather than in the specifically designed space found in earlier country houses where they could be viewed in a public manner. That domestic concerns not be sacrificed for the sake of exhibiting cultural artefacts was evident at Brodsworth, for example. Despite purchasing a large collection of sculpture at the Dublin International Exhibition of 1865, the owner, Charles Thellusson evidently demanded no specific space for the display of either these, or his collection of English and Dutch paintings. Instead, the artworks were dispersed 'as one of the dominating decorative elements' throughout the halls, corridors and rooms of the interior.416 This would infer that, rather than be exhibited as an impressive indication of the aesthetic taste of the owner, they were intended to add to the comfort and salubrity of domestic life. 4 1 5 Ibid. 4 1 6 English Heritage, Brodsworth Hall (1995): 13. 133 At Bear Wood, records indicate that some works of art were displayed in the drawing and diriing rooms, presumably to also contribute to the domestic enjoyment of family and guests.417 However, unlike other contemporaneous country houses surveyed, the floor plan for Bear Wood indicates space specifically designated as a picture gallery 4 1 8 Records show that the most valuable accumulation of artworks owned by John Walter were housed in this space.419 That the incorporation of this gallery at Bear Wood should have been an exceptional demand for the interior of a middle class house was confirmed by Kerr. He made special note that one of the 'peculiarities of design' for a 'Mansion' in 'Berkshire', was because 'the primary basis of the arrangement consists in the demand for a Picture- Gallery'.4 2 0 Iri line with contemporary middle class requirements that the focus of the spatial organization of the domestic interior be on accommodating the family rather than on a display of cultural artefacts, Kerr cautioned his reader that 'to attach such a Gallery to the house as a mere show-place is an idea wanting in that domesticity of motive which ought to pervade everything connected with a private dwelling'.421 From this apparent dichotomy between the presence of the picture gallery at Bear Wood and Kerr's concerns that it be a negatively pervasive influence on the domestic interior, it can be speculated that the space was incorporated as a particular requirement of 4 1 7 A catalogue of the pictures at Bear Wood was compiled for the purposes of insurance in 1884. See Appendix A. Girouard includes a late Victorian view of the drawing room at Bear Wood in The Victorian Country House (1971): plate 248. The image shows a picture hung over the fireplace, curio cabinets and shelves, displays of porcelain, a portfolio rack and books in the room. (Also, in what might be considered a middle class concern for cultural refinement juxtaposed to requirements for domestic comfort, the room included chairs that ranged from Sheraton-style, to contemporary-style upholstered armchairs, to wicker- work armchairs, to bent-wood occasional chairs. Tables included an eclectic mix of traditional, contemporary and Indian styles.) 4 1 8 See Franklin, The Gentleman's Country House (1981). 4 1 9 See Appendix A. The assumption that the bulk of the collection was housed in the gallery is based on its assessed value compared to the value of those in the drawing and dining rooms. 4 2 0 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 451. 134 the owner. It would appear that Walter intended it primarily for the display Dutch paintings he had inherited from his father. That this should be considered exceptional was inferred by The Times, which made particular reference to Walter's 'own gallery' in which was displayed 'partly collected by his father...an assemblage of masterpieces'.422 To further indicate that this was a somewhat unusual means by which to display an art collection in a contemporary middle class domestic interior, The Times evidently felt it necessary to add that Walter 'thoroughly enjoyed discussing its beauties with visitors who had studied the Dutch school'.4 2 3 Like John Walter at Bear Wood, Joseph Neeld, M.P., middle class owner of Grittleton House, was an exception in that he had the interior designed to accommodate his 'large collection of paintings'.424 The result was, as the architectural historian, Henry- Russell Hitchcock notes, that the interior of Grittleton consisted of: enormous rooms and top-lighted vestibules primarily intended as galleries for the display of his Old Masters and his contemporary English pictures...Both architectural effect and domestic convenience were intentionally subordinated to the client's rather special requirements.425 The galleries in which both Walter and Neeld exhibited their collections can be seen as both exceptional within the context of contemporary nineteenth century architectural design for a country house, as well as an emulation of predecessor country house owners. As such, the galleries at Bear Wood and Grittleton appeared to counter prevalent middle class concerns for domesticity. That the exceptional architectural feature of these galleries was 422 The Times, November 5, 1894, "Death ofMr Walter". 4 2 3 Ibid. Because the Walter family would probably have represented middle class values, it must be presumed that these 'visitors' were guests invited by the family, rather than members of the public viewing the house. 4 2 4 Hitchcock, Early Victorian Architecture in Britain (1954): 256-257. Grittleton House, near Cippenham, Wilts, was build c. 1853 by the architect James Thomson, a pupil of J.B. Papworth. 135 incorporated into the domestic interior of their houses can be interpreted as an indication of the diverse and, seemingly, contradictory ways in which the middle class often appeared to represent itself. On the one hand, it would seem that cultural acquisitions dispersed throughout the interior of the house were intended to reflect demands for domestic comfort and enjoyment. Conversely, that the spatial organization in these two particular houses included designated space in which to display collections appears to reference intentions from previous centuries that the artworks imply the cultural eruditeness of the owner. However, as the country houses belonging to nineteenth century middle class owners were not available for public viewing, it can be presumed that the display could have only been intended for the private pleasure of the owner, his family and his guests. In contrast to this is the argument presented in this paper that, in the process of estabhshing an identity, the nineteenth century middle class often appeared to stridently and ostentatiously advertise its entrepreneurial achievements. Notions of privacy represented the domestic interior as a medium in which to incorporate cultural artefacts in a manner that satisfied such middle class requirements as rectitude and propriety. This meant that the confines of the domestic domain precluded it from being a means by which attributes, such as entrepreneurial success or cultural acuity, could be proclaimed in a public manner. However, despite admonitions from such as Kerr that there be 'elegance and importance without ostentation', there is evidence that the middle class did feel it necessary to display both their cultural acquisitions and their wealth in the public, rather than in the domestic forum. Such evidence is suggested, for example, by the fact that, until the onset of the economic depression in the 1880s, there was an unprecedented number of exhibitions of 136 artworks, where the contents were either primarily purchased or loaned by middle class collectors.426 In Art and the Victorian Middle Class, art historian, Dianne Macleod presents numerous case studies of affluent members of the middle class who made considerable investments in the acquisition of artworks.427 John Walter of Bear Wood was in the ranks of such investors. At the time of his death, it was noted that he had been a 'judicious buyer, and a regular visitor to the exhibitions and principal sales' and had accumulated a collection of both inherited and purchased works of noted value.428 In this, he reflected the prosperity of the nation and an increasingly wealthy middle class for, as The Times noted, 'commerce and industry [were] the true sources of the greatness of England'.429 In modern, nineteenth century England, economic progress had, in part, been identified by both the availability and the consumption of material goods. As Macleod points out, the Victorian economist, Michael Mulhall considered that England 'had become the richest country in the world' and that Continental visitors such as Hippolyte Taine had observed that there were 'visible signs of prosperity and opulence everywhere'.430 Thus, it would appear that the spoils of commerce and industry, most of which had evolved on the middle class entrepreneur, had been applied to an unprecedented consumption of material goods. Such consumption served the dual purpose of providing evidence of the financial resources of the successful, 4 2 6 Macleod in Art and the Victorian Middle Class (1996) discusses this issue in Chapter 4, "Money and mainstream mid-Victorian values", as does Hoppen in The Mid-Victorian Generation (1998) in Chapter 11, "The Business of Culture". 4 2 7 Macleod, Art and the Victorian Middle Class (1996). Although they were not necessarily owners of country houses, these investors indicated that a significant proportion of the middle class was investing in cultural artefacts. 428 The Times, "Death of Mr Walter", November 5, 1894. See Appendix A ; insurance valuations of artworks at Bear Wood. 429 The Times, "Death of Mr Walter", Monday, November 5, 1894. 4 3 0 Macleod, Art and the Victorian Middle Class (1996): 209. 137 middle class entrepreneurial investors, as well as indications of their cultural intellect and aesthetic tastes.431 One such collector was John Walter of Bear Wood. It was noted of Walter that he had 'artistic tastes that were not less strongly developed than his aptitudes for business and public affairs', that he was a 'fine judge of pictures, a judicious buyer, and a regular visitor to the exhibitions and principal sales'.432 However, any inferences of conspicuous consumption on the part of Walter would have countered middle class images of restraint and propriety by which he, as a representative of middle class ideals, would wish to be identified. Hence, it might be presumed that any public evidence of cultural acquisitions by middle class investors and collectors, such as Walter, needed to be mitigated by some sort of moral rationale. Perhaps is was that any public indications of expenditures on the acquisition of cultural artefacts could be aligned with philanthropic leanings that combined civic pride with an apparent sense of civic responsibility. This hypothesis can be supported, for example, by the construction of civic buildings, particularly town halls, that provided evidence of both middle class commercial success, together with its now-established responsibilities for the administration of civic affairs.433 Both the increasing wealth and the political involvement of the middle class resulted in, as historian, Theodore Hoppen notes, 'municipal bodies [that] vied with one another to build impressive town halls...to symbolize the opulence of the city and the great principle of self-government'.434 Such middle class 4 3 1 Authors such as Briggs, Davidoff and Hall, Girouard and Thompson, for example, all address the issue of 19th. century middle class consumption. Macleod deals specifically with expenditure on art. 4 3 2 The Times, "Death of Mr Walter", November 5, 1894. 4 3 3 Enfranchisement of male householders had led to the apparent democratic election of candidates for government at the expense of the tradition of the aristocracy 'governing by right'. 4 3 4 Hoppen, The Mid-Victorian Generation (1998): 421. Hoppen cites such as Birmingham (1832) Leeds (1853) Liverpool (1860) and Manchester (1866) as some leading examples. The prosperity of all such cities was founded on industrialization and the entrepreneurial success of the middle class. 138 ideals of civic pride and duty extended to providing other institutions, like museums, art galleries and churches, ostensibly for the cultural erudition or the salvation of the public at large.435 Such architectural forms, whether civic or otherwise, were designed to express an identity for a middle class that 'reflected' as the historian, Richard Altick notes, 'the appearance of a novel concept in social thinking'.436 By the mid-nineteenth century, the meaning of culture for the middle class had 'come to mean a whole way of life, material, intellectual and spiritual'.437 To the middle class financier, this meant 'not only an individual ideal but a social one as well...an expression... of man's need for institutions which should confirm and constitute Ms personal efforts'.438 In the case of John Walter, indications of both a civic responsibility and an . opportunity to display his cultural acquisitions were apparent in that he lent 'the best' of his pictures, 'some of them more than once', to the winter exhibitions at the Royal Academy'.439 Further evidence that he combined gestures of philanthropy and civic responsibility with his aesthetic tastes can be identified in the 'highly inventive' Gothic revival details incorporated into St. Paul's church, Wokingham, the building he endowed in 4 3 5 Kerr, in fact, had submitted designs in 1864 for the proposed Museum of Natural History at South Kensington. Biographical notes on Kerr, Dictionary of National of National Biography: 24. Ruskin, along with Dr Henry Acland, 'instigator and promoter of the museum', had been influential in the construction of the Oxford University Museum, completed in 1860. It is noted of Acland that his 'lifelong desire to do good to his fellow men was firmly implanted...by his severely Evangelical upbringing'. Oxford University Museum (1991): 4. 4 3 6 Altick, Victorian People and Ideas (1973): 238. 4 3 7 Ibid. 4 3 8 Ibid.: 239. Altick quotes historian, Raymond Williams. 439 The Times, "Death of Mr. Walter" , November 5, 1894. Hoppen notes that the Royal Academy 'reigned supreme' with its exhibitions. In 1879, 'attendance was not less than 391,197'. The Mid-Victorian Generation (1998): 415. In order that they might be seen by the working classes, many museums, galleries and exhibitions stayed open late on specific evenings and either offered free admission or charged a reduced fee. The latter precedent had been set with the Great Exhibition in 1861. That Walter was also a Member of Parliament might also be perceived as evidence of a sense of his civic responsibility. 139 1864.440 It would appear that, for John Walter as well as for other wealthy middle class collectors of cultural artefacts, any public exhibition that proclaimed either their individualistic cultural acumen or financial expenditures could be mitigated by philanthropic gestures. For many, such gestures included donations or bequests of their collections to public art galleries or museums.441 For these collectors, a moral rationale that embraced any gestures of a social conscience expressed in philanthropic deeds, or as civic responsibility and pride would have mitigated any public display of the accumulation of material goods. In addition, philanthropic gestures of civic responsibility and generosity could not but help invest them with social recognition and an identity that set them apart from the self-indulgent habits and extravagant display traditionally associated with the aristocracy. Although, with some noted exceptions, little architectural consideration was given for the specific display of artworks in the nineteenth century country houses of middle class owners, it is evident that cultural acquisitions did form part of the interior decor. Thus, it might be presumed that such acquisitions were intended to underscore values by which the class wished to be identified, even within the confines of a private, domestic family life. For example, inferences of intellect coupled with refinement would have been conveyed by the display of books. As Stevenson noted, these should be on a 'round table, without which no ladies' drawing room is considered to be complete'.442 In addition, Stevenson suggested 4 4 0 Dictionary of National Biography, "Walter, John" : 715 notes that 'Walter had a strong native inclination for building', so it might be presumed that his tastes and values influenced the architectural design for the church, as well as for Bear Wood house. 4 4 1 Although there is no evidence that Walter made any such bequests, Macleod in Art and the Victorian Middle Class (1996) includes an appendix of 'major Victorian collectors', many of whom gave all or part of their collections to public institutions. 4 4 2 Stevenson, House Architecture, Vol. 7/(1880): 59. 140 there be cabinets for curiosities, that statuary be in groups, there be stands for folios of engravings and bookcases for works of art, all of which would have inferred a diversity of cultural tastes.443 Combined with the fact that all the house plans surveyed in Franklin's The Gentleman's Country House made provision for library space, such suggestions indicate that the middle class owners not only wished to be considered culturally erudite, but that they had the leisure time in which to follow such refined pursuits. This may have been considered particularly relevant for women, for whom leisure was considered a badge of middle class status.444 As Ruskin advocated, it benefited the female to 'turn her loose into the... library' so that she might form ' character, moral and intellectual'.445 That middle class cultural tastes reflected the values to which its members subscribed and by which they apparently wished to be identified are referenced by the sentimental, domestic narratives, or by the genre studies or moral themes represented in the cultural artefacts they endorsed. Referencing the 'iconic popularity' of such tastes, Altick states that: the criteria of acceptable art are usually summed up in the term "moral aesthetic".. .the... emphasis.. .was upon theme rather than expression, upon intention and substance rather than technique. The more pleasing a style was, the better; but style should never be so conspicuous as to distract attention from content.446 Such nineteenth century middle class standards were indicated, for instance, by the owner of Brodsworth who purchased artworks that revealed his 'taste for contemporary sculpture, 4 4 3 Ibid. 4 4 4 Perkin in Victorian Women (1993) addresses the issue of education for women in Chapter 2. 4 4 5 Ruskin, Sesame and Lilies (1887): 153 & 157. In these passages, Ruskin advised on the education of the female. 4 4 6 Altick, Victorian People and Ideas (1973): 272. 141 with its often sentimental subject matter'.447 Images that referenced the sentimental, along with genre images of domestic felicity, religious and moral propriety, as well as overtones of nationalistic fervour, were topics in demand, to be accommodated by a myriad of themes that ranged from the family group at festive occasions, to family pets, from idyllic pastoral scenes, to the retributions accorded those who strayed outside the boundaries of behaviour befitting middle class standards.448 The way in which the majority of middle class owners chose to display their cultural tastes in the domestic sphere adds further credence to the suggestion that their cultural artefacts were considered a means by which class values could be emphasized. Not for them the extensive enfilade of public rooms found in earlier country houses with their extravagant, ebullient and exorbitant display of classical taste with its associative intemperate connotations of being the prerogative of the aristocracy.449 Not for them eighteenth century references to foreign, un-English tastes.450 Instead, for the nineteenth century middle class owner of a country house, the matrix of domestic space afforded an 4 4 7 English Heritage, Brodsworth Hall (1995): 13 refers to Thellusson's 'taste for contemporary sculpture, with its often sentimental subject matter and concentration on intricate details'. Artists such as Sir Edwin Landseer (1802-1873) produced sentimental images of family pets. Samuel Palmer (1805-1881) and Edward John Pointer (1836-1919) painted subjects that ranged from the pastoral to the nationalistic. The Pre-Raphaelite artists, such as Sir John Everett Millais (1829-1896) and Lord Frederic Leighton (1830- 1895) represented moral and religious propriety, as well as idealized images of the family unit or the female figure among their works. 4 4 8 Although they might appear to counter any notions of nationalism, the Dutch paintings belonging to the owners of Brodsworth and Bear Wood are notable in that they represented connotations domesticity. The influences of middle class propriety extended to the aristocracy. The 7th! Duke of Marlborough removed, among others, nine paintings by Titian, 'The Loves of the Gods', from the hall at Blenheim. In the 1820s and still on public view in the hall, the paintings had been admired by Hazlitt who 'waxed ecstatic on their 'purple light of love, crimsoned blushes, looks bathed in rapture, kisses with immortal sweetness". In 1861, when subsequently hidden in a room above the steward's office, bake house and store, they were destroyed by fire. Fowler, Blenheim (1989): 157. 4 4 9 The desire for impressive display had long been established by the aristocracy. At 17th. century Chatsworth, for example, a large mirror, in line with the communicating doors and of the same proportions, was placed at the far south end of the state rooms so as to double the apparent length of the enfdade. 450 In The Mid-Victorian Generation, "The Business ofCulture" (1998) Hoppen discusses the popularity of practicing British artists, the impressive amounts of money spent on their work and the resultant wealth of the artists. 142 impression of privacy, comfort and a sober sagacity. Integrated into this space were the cultural artefacts that represented the ethos of a family, serious and responsible representatives of a social class that considered itself to be the backbone of the progressive and modern English nation. Factored into this, however, must be middle class ambitions to establish an identity for itself in the social order, an identity that not only reflected status concomitant with wealth, but an identity underscored by evidence of aesthetic interests and cultural tastes. The suggestion that the middle class saw its accumulation of cultural artefacts as a means by which to establish an identity is supported by Dianne Macleod, who posits that these middle class investors were 'driven by a need to ascertain social status' and that their resultant collections of artworks 'established a social provenance' for them.451 As Macleod also suggests, the entrepreneurial success of such investors 'caused them to turn to art as a means of carving out an identity of their own that was distinct...' 4 5 2 However, in line with middle class tenets based on privacy and domestic felicity, the spatial organization of the interior of nineteenth century country houses was not regarded as a medium by which any distinctive identity of class could be publicly impressed on the social order. As has been noted, however, this was countered in that the middle class, by supporting such as public institutions and exhibitions, established a way in which it could advertise its cultural tastes in the public forum. That this may have been interpreted as an indication of an unrestrained or opulent consumption of material goods was mitigated when presented under a rubric of philanthropic concerns that underscored a sense of civic duty 451 452 Macleod, Art and the Victorian Middle Class (1996): 210 & 249. Ibid.: Introductory statement. 143 and responsibility. In this way, the tenets to which the middle class subscribed could be sustained and an appropriate identity established. 144 CONCLUSION That an unprecedented number of the mid-nineteenth century wealthy middle class made a considerable financial investment in the ownership of a country estate and house indicates that they had specific reasons for so doing. In examining their motivations, the generally tacit assumption that the ambition of the nineteenth century middle class investor was to join the ranks of the established landed aristocracy has here been questioned. Instead, evidence suggests that credence be given to the hypothesis that the country house was considered an architectural medium by which a wealthy middle class owner could achieve the objective of constructing, establishing and, ultimately, legitimating the identity of his class as being separate and apart from that of the other social classes. The intention with this thesis has been to give a meaningful interpretation to the architectural significance of a nineteenth century country house. An analysis of the exemplar, Bear Wood country house and estate, has indicated that the way in which the nineteenth century middle class presented itself can be identified by means of the approach to the country house, the style of architecture employed in its construction and the spatial organization of its interior. Whilst it is acknowledged that the owner and architect of Bear Wood cannot be considered prototypical representatives of a far from homogenous middle class, it has been suggested that both embodied many of the tenets to which that class commonly subscribed. That so many of these values could be so fully played out in a country house such as Bear Wood was due to the considerable financial resources available to John Walter, so providing a particularly clear example from which the arguments and conclusions in this thesis could be presented. 145 This work has reflected the axiom that, despite gradations of wealth and subsequent levels of rank, the unity of the nineteenth century middle class lay in its common adherence to certain attitudes and values by which it wished to be perceived and identified. However, it has also been posited that there was a diversity in the way in which those claiming middle class status appeared to present themselves. A study of Bear Wood provides an indication that middle class tenets could be expressed in ways that ranged from a strident and acicular announcement of entrepreneurial acumen and success, to a more succinct and subtle representation of domestic values and standards of propriety. Perhaps this diversity of representation was best summed up by Kerr himself who, in his 'considerations' for a English gentleman's house, provided his reader with sufficiently ambivalent architectural advice, so to allow middle class owners to juxtapose the seemingly contradictory images by which they appeared to be identified.453 It is acknowledged that Robert Kerr, as author of the book on which much of this study has been based, was by no means a prolific builder of country houses, as were many of his architectural peers.454 However, his influence on contemporary domestic architecture and interior design was acknowledged by contemporaries, particularly after the 1865 publication of his definitive work, The Gentleman's House. Considered by The Builder to have been 'worked out in a manner that may be called nearly exhaustive of principles and of detail for purposes Of information and reference', Kerr's book can also be regarded as his codification of the diversity of attitudes shared by both his professional peers and the middle 4 5 3 Kerr, The Gentleman's House (1865): 90. 4 5 4 In addition to Bear Wood, two more country houses are attributed to Kerr. Ford Manor, Lingfield, Surrey was built in 1868 for Mr. Spender-Clay. Also commissioned after Bear Wood was nearby Ascot Heath House, Berkshire for John Walter's editor of The Times, M r Delane. Kerr's work, previous to these country houses, had been in designing commercial buildings, such as the 1863 National Provident Institution, Gracechurch Street, London. 146 class readers to whom, it has been assumed, the book was primarily addressed.455 This assumption is affirmed by the review in The Builder of Kerr's book, wherein it was noted that the work 'certainly assists the comprehension of the ordinary reader and the professional student'.456 That it should influence John Walter to the extent that he would commission Kerr to design Bear Wood was remarked upon in the June 6, 1868 edition of the same publication. As both a practicing Professor of Architecture and an actively involved member of newly emerging professional associations, it would appear that Robert Kerr was in a position to both influence his audience, as well as to confer some professional credence to his theoretical maxims.457 To some extent, Kerr's influence was to be recognized by his contemporary peers. He was, for example, acknowledged by E.W. Godwin in the July 5, 1872 edition of the Building News for, besides his 'loquaciousness' for which he was recognized, his eloquence, both written and orated, appeared to keep his name consistently prominent and at the forefront of contemporary architectural discipline.458 Despite their influence, neither owner nor architect of Bear Wood should be considered prototypical. This assumption is based on the understanding that degrees of wealth and the subsequent diverse economic and social backgrounds of those who claimed middle class status contributed to an equally diverse range of tastes and the way in which they were displayed. However, as a wealthy member of the middle class and proprietor of 455 The Builder, "The Gentleman's House", January 7, 1865: 2. 4 5 6 Ibid: 3. 4 5 7 For instance, Kerr remained active in RIBA. On February 19, 1875, The Building News recorded that Professor Kerr had 'made a few remarks' at an ordinary general meeting. On May 28, 1875, The Building News again recorded Kerr as having been in attendance at another ordinary general meeting at RIBA. The Directory of British Architects lists Kerr as an 'influential author'. 4 5 8 'We mention him, not because of his works, but because his loquaciousness makes him prominent'. Quoted by Girouard in The Victorian Country House (1971): 121 from an article by Godwin, "Modern Architects and their Work": The Builder, July 5, 1872. 147 an influential newspaper, John Walter was in a position to demonstrate many of the social attitudes and values to which he would have subscribed. To this must be added the authority inherent in his role as owner of an estate and country house. It is likely that, as a successful nineteenth century middle class entrepreneur, Walter would have identified himself with the opinion expressed in The Builder that Kerr's book was 'eminently designed for those who will read thinkingly, - that class of progressionists, always ready to be searchers...'459 At the same time, however, it must be acknowledged that much attributed to the private life of John Walter in this thesis has been speculative rather than substantiated, primarily because any papers on him, outside of what was published in The Times, do not appear to be lodged in public archives.460 Information published in The Times, because of its source, should be considered with caution. This thesis has suggested that, with the initial approach to the main gate of Bear Wood, the presence, the prestige and the wealth of the owner of the estate were indicated in a very public way. Juxtaposed to this public proclamation of status, the existence of an estate village such as Sindlesham Green, prominently clustered along the approach to the main gate, was a means by which the owner could also advertise his philanthropic concerns. The lodge, with its modest size and vernacular architecture, as well as the truncated length of the driveway, were, unlike the approach to country houses in previous centuries, intended to both underplay any expectations of architectural grandeur, as well as to shelter the privacy of the inhabitants. Such an approach inferred notions of a nineteenth century middle class subscription to privacy and discretion, in contrast to the intentions behind the 4 5 9 Ibid: 2-3. 4 6 0 Girouard in his articles in Country Life, "Bear Wood, Berkshire " Parts I & II, October 17 & 24, 1968, acknowledges access to family papers in the possession of Mrs. John Walter IV of Hove, Sussex. This appears to be the last reference made to such papers and I was not able to access them. 148 grandiose and orchestrated approach to many earlier country houses. However, at Bear Wood, nineteenth century notions of privacy and discretion were challenged by the impact made by the sudden and impressive revelation of the entrance facade. This apparent contradiction serves to reaffirm the diversity with which the identity of a middle class owner, like John Walter, was presented. A study of the theoretical attention given by Kerr to the spatial organization of the domestic interior has provided a significant resource from which to identify that many of the proprieties that formed the basis of nineteenth century middle class identity were both implemented in and sustained by, architectural planriing. In addition, the spatial organization of the domestic interior of country houses built in the middle years of the nineteenth century was specifically intended as a means by which the quotidian existence of its inhabitants could be ordered within the parameters of middle class values. This, perhaps, was little different from the objectives behind the spatial organization of previous country houses in that the inhabitants of these earlier houses were also intended to function within the tenets by which the owners operated. However, the focus of these objectives differed. In the previous century in particular, the ambition of owner and architect was primarily to display the wealth, status and standing of the owner within the ufnits of a strictly defined architectural taste. In that social order, the landed gentry were well established and comfortably confident in an identity that was concomitant with the social class to which they belonged. Hence, the intention with both architecture and spatial organization was that the elite and erudite cultural tastes of the owner be dramatically and spectacularly displayed and available for public viewing. 1 4 9 In contrast, the objective of the builders of nineteenth century country houses belonging to the middle class was that the architectural style and the interior design, although also intended to display wealth, status and standing, accommodate many of the values of everyday life on which the class based its identity. Unlike earlier country houses, wherein the focus was on a strict adherence to what were considered the rules of architecture, at Bear Wood there was a deliberate indication of function through the architectural form. This often indicated distinct hierarchical differences between the inhabitants. In addition, there was the subscription to middle class notions of domestic felicity and the family unit, which entailed concerns for privacy, coupled with moral, social and religious restraints. There was an adherence to what was perceived to be civic and philanthropic duties that operated under the rubrics of responsibility, efficiency, progressiveness and concerns for salubrity. Added to this, the eclectic and individual cultural predilections and tastes of owner and architect, when expressed in architectural form, were a further means by which they, as representatives of the middle class, could present the values to which they subscribed. All of these factors contributed to an identity intended to be understood as separate and apart from that traditionally associated with the earlier landowning aristocracy. That issue of architectural eclecticism was a prominent one in nineteenth century England. When reading a paper to the members of the Royal Institute of British Architects, the architect J.J. Stevenson, remarked that 'the individual is now everything in architecture' and that the 'new system subjects the art to the caprices and vagaries of the individual'.461 The Building News, January 8, 1875. 150 This was evident with the general acceptance of Eclecticism as an architectural style that might best represent the era. It can be said of a country house owner like John Walter, wealthy and an acknowledged arbiter of contemporary cultural tastes, that he advertised his confidence in his position and his influence with the incorporation of a range of architectural styles into the design of the house he commissioned. It has been widely affirmed that members of the Victorian middle class did see themselves as the linchpin located at the very centre of the social order, as missionaries with a self-imposed mandate to establish and maintain the tenets by which they were to be identified. In order to underwrite the credibility of middle class values, it was important that every appearance of stability within their class structure be apparent. Characteristics such as solidarity, authority and dignity were transmogrified into architectural form to be supported by the spatial plan of the domestic interior. The latter, with its emphasis on the separation of the public from the private spheres, as well as on the insularity of the family unit, allowed the deployment of middle class standards of morality and propriety within the home. In the domestic interior of a house like Bear Wood, it has been identified that middle class ideologies of morality and propriety could be sustained by the binary division of the inhabitants, segregated by both gender and status. Also identified as having been incorporated into the spatial organization of Bear Wood were contemporary middle class attitudes that ranged from comfort to convenience, from concerns for efficiency, to issues of hygiene and sanitation. All were addressed in Kerr's theoretical maxims and expressed in architectural terms in Bear Wood, particularly with the specific attention given to the design for the domestic interior in that it should first accommodate and then sustain, these values. 151 The ways in which women, children arid servants, in particular, contributed to the construction and the implementation of the image that represented the nineteenth century middle class domestic ideal were significant. They were expected to conform to a routine that, it would appear from Bear Wood, was accommodated by a spatial organization that put in place behavioural mechanisms that firmly controlled their interaction within the domestic sphere and, thus, were intended to maintain middle class values. The fact that so many of the wealthier middle class invested in a country estate and house has lent credence to the assumption that the driving ambition of the nineteenth century middle class owner was to integrate into the ranks of the established landed gentry. Many literary and documented sources endorse the idea that there had traditionally been a certain degree of inter-class mobility. This appears to have accelerated in the nineteenth century in tandem with the rapidly increasing numbers of an influential and wealthy middle class, along with the simultaneous decline in the traditional autonomous authority of the aristocracy. There is no doubt that members of the Victorian nouveau-riche did marry, or were promoted, into the ranks of the nobility.462 However, less obvious, or at least less considered, has been the focus of this study, which suggests that this was by no means the primary objective behind the unprecedented construction of country houses by the wealthy middle class. Rather, here it has been suggested that the middle class owner used inherent precepts associated with the stewardship of an estate and country house to his advantage. In order to firmly establish the identity of his class in the context of the contemporary social order, he employed the status, prestige and power that were traditionally associated with the ownership of a country estate to express his middle class values, so to legitimate and 4 6 2 Franklin, The Gentleman's Country House (1981): 24. 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Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1993 Yarwood, Doreen. Five Hundred Years of Technology in the Home. London: B.T. Batsford Ltd., 1983 161 R E S O U R C E M A T E R I A L BERKSHIRE COUNTY RECORD OFFICE Material relating to Bear Wood Estate, Sindlesham, Berks. CASTLE HOWARD ESTATE LTD. Castle Howard DERBYSHIRE COUNTRYSIDE LTD. Chatsworth DICTIONARY OF NATIONAL BIOGRAPHY John Walter n i DIRECTORY OF BRITISH ARCHITECTS 1834-1900 Biographical data on Robert Kerr ENGLISH HERITAGE Brodsworth Hall HAREWOOD HOUSE TRUST LTD. Harewood House HISTORIC HOUSES ASSOCIATION N E W B Y H A L L ESTATE Newby Hall NEWS INTERNATIONAL pic Archives for the Times "John Walter II Biographical Data" OXFORD UNIVERSITY PRESS Oxford University Museum R O Y A L INSTITUTE OF BRITISH ARCHITECTS SEELEY, WELLS Holkham Hall THE BRITISH ARCHITECTURAL L I B R A R Y Duffy, Dr. Francis, President of the RIB A. "The Royal Institute of British Architects". 1995 162 THE BUILDER 1865, 1868, 1869, 1904 THE BUILDING NEWS 1874, 1875, 1904 THE NATIONAL TRUST Basildon Park Cragside Kedleston Hall Petworth House: The Servants' Quarters Wallington The Times NEWSPAPER "Death of Mr. Walter" July 29, 1847 "Death of Mr. Walter" November 5, 1894 "John Walter E, 1776-1847" July 23, 1947 THE Universal Daily Register NEWSPAPER First Edition (later The Times Newspaper) "To the Public" January 1, 1785 163 APPENDIX A The Formation & Dispersal of a Great Nineteenth Century Landed Estate Source: Berkshire County Record Office A Statement of Account Showing Sales & Purchases by John Walter Esq. for the last 30 years. Copy sent to Mr. Walter, 29 May, 1886 (DE WLE38 R O . ) Purchases: July 1840 - 1885 addendum September, 1888 5371,765.10.00 Sales: £126,500.10.00 Title Deeds Relating to Estates in the Several Parishes of Hurst, Arborfield, Wokingham in the County of Berkshire Comprised in the Settlement made on the Marriage of John Walter, Junior Esq. with Miss Emily Frances Court (d. 1858) & Dated the 26th. Day of September, 1842. (D/EW1 E l R O . ) The 73 page Title Deeds Outline the Property Deeded Under the Will of John Walter, Senior. 1903 Schedule of Deeds of Property & Mortgages in the Strong Room at Bear Wood, Berks. Listing: Wokingham Yateley Finchhamstead Barkham Hurst Sandhurst & Miscellaneous Deeds January 18, 1884 Catalogue of Pictures at Bear Wood to be Insured by the Sun Insurance Co. Sun Fire Office, Threadneedle Street, E C : Policy 323176. Annual Premium payable at Christmas: £59.2s.6d Picture Gallery 524,475.00 Drawing Room 400.00 Dining Room 1,400.00 Pictures Valued at: £26.275.00 January 10, 1896 Fine Art & General Insurance Co. Ltd. 90 Cannon Street, E C : Pictures Valued at: £22.670.00 (DEWLF12/13R.O.) Sale Plan of the Bear Wood Estate 1912 Lot 1 House, Lake & Surrounding Woods Lot 2 Sindlesham Home Farm Lot 3 Bear Wood Farm & Lummier Hill for Sale by Private Treaty by Messrs. Knight, Frank & Rutley in conjunction with Messrs. Trollope (D/EWAL E14 R.O.) 164 APPENDIX B Building accounts & expenditures for the construction of Bear Wood Source: Franklin: "The Victorian Country House " Pounds Sterling Bricks: 4,250,00 6,400.00 Made on the estate Bricklaying: 17,000.00 Stone Trim: 17,000.00 Mansfield trim/York paving Cartage: 850.00 Joinery Work: 40,000.00 Ironwork: 9,000.00 Including 4,000,00 on rolled joists Plumbing & Leadwork: 4,600 00 Stoves & Heating Apparatus: 6,000 00 Painting, Glazing, Gilding: 7,000 00 Plastering: 7,000.00 Wages: (totalling approx. 50% of cost of construction) Skilled Men 2.12s.6d per week Unskilled Labourers 10s. per week Architect's Commission: 5% of cost + travelling expenses Architect's Original Estimate: 120,000 00 Final Cost: >200,000.00 Annual Income of Owner: 50,000.00 
work_6t54xbqp4baf7ibkg27kqqg2sa	----	PAINTING  IN  PARIS:  VINCENT  VAN  GOGH,  1886-­‐1888             A  Dissertation   Submitted  to   the  Temple  University  Graduate  Board           In  Partial  Fulfillment   of  the  Requirements  for  the  Degree   DOCTOR  OF  PHILOSOPHY   Art  History           by   Christa  Rose  DiMarco   July  2015             Examining  Committee  Members:     Dr.  Therese  Dolan,  Advisor,  Tyler  School  of  Art,  Art  History  Department   Dr.  Gerald  Silk,  Committee  Chair,  Tyler  School  of  Art,  Art  History         Department   Dr.  Ashley  West,  Tyler  School  of  Art,  Art  History  Department   Dr.  Suzanne  Singletary,  External  Member,  Philadelphia  University       ii                       ©   Copyright   2015     by       ChristaRoseDiMarco All Rights Reserved           iii   ABSTRACT   In  Painting  in  Paris:  Vincent  Van  Gogh,  1886-­‐1888,  Christa  DiMarco  explores   the  two-­‐year  period  Van  Gogh  lived  and  worked  in  Paris.  The  paintings  the  artist   made  in  The  Netherlands,  where  he  lived  prior  to  Paris,  and  those  he  produced  in   Arles,  where  he  moved  afterward,  usually  receive  scholarly  attention.  The  imagery   from   the   artist’s   time   in   the   capital   is   generally   marginalized.   DiMarco   considers   how   and   why   the   artist   used   a   brighter   palette   and   energetic   brushwork   while   painting  in  Paris.  Considering  that  his  artistic  practice  spanned  only  a  decade  from   1880   to   1890,   the   artist’s   time   in   the   capital   represents   a   significant   period   of   growth   in   terms   of   his   engagement   with   the   art   market,   his   exposure   to   avant-­‐ garde  imagery,  and  his  understanding  of  Symbolist  theory   in  the  visual  arts.  Van   Gogh   accomplished   significant   goals   in   Paris,   though   some   of   his   well-­‐developed   imagery   does   not   necessarily   figure   into   discussions   regarding   the   canonical   paintings  of  the  artist’s  body  of  work.  Attention  to  the  Paris-­‐period  not  only  locates   Van  Gogh’s  pictorial  development  within  the  context  of  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐ Impressionists,  but  also  establishes  the  ways  in  which  the  artist  diverged  from  the   artistic   aims   of   the   Parisian   avant-­‐garde,   such   as   Claude   Monet   and   Camille   Pissarro,  as  he  developed  his  Symbolic  approach.               iv                         To  my  niece  Vivian  Rose         v   ACKNOWLEDGMENTS   My  work  on  Vincent  van  Gogh  began  with  my  master’s  thesis  and  grew  into   a  focus  on  the  artist’s  Paris-­‐period  under  the  unwavering  guidance  of  my  advisor,   Professor  Therese  Dolan.  She  first  suggested  I  write  on  Van  Gogh  for  my  thesis  and   patiently   helped   me   craft   a   dissertation.   Her   influence   has   been   a   beacon   of   encouragement  throughout  this  process,  and  I  always  keep  her  example  in  mind  as   I  research,  write,  and  teach.  My  dissertation  committee  members,  Drs.  Gerald  Silk,   Suzanne  Singletary,  and  Ashley  West,  helped  me  understand  the  long-­‐terms  goals   of  my  project.  I  will  keep  their  suggestions  central  as  I  move  into  the  next  phase  of   writing.  I  am  especially  grateful  to  my  committee  for  their  support  during  the  final   phase  of  this  endeavor—they  have  given  me  the  confidence  to  continue.     My  family—Nathan,  Mom,  Raina,  and  Jon—created  the  space  I  needed  to   find  peace  during  my  writing  journey.  They  helped  me  to  stay  focused  and  to  stick   with   it.   I   am   proud   to   be   able   to   celebrate   this   accomplishment   with   them.  The   memory  of  my  Dad’s  and  Mom-­‐Mom’s  voices  encouraged  me  as  I  wrote  each  day.   They  both  were  tenaciously  hard  workers,  an  ethic  they  passed  down  to  me  and   one  that  allowed  me  to  reach  my  goal.     Christy   Blanca   Gonzalez,   Michele   Kishita,   and   Peter   Stambler   read   my   abstracts,  proposals,  chapters,  and  rewrites  and  were  always  available  to  give  kind,   constructive  feedback.     My  friends  understood  my  writing  schedule  and  offered  the  inspiration  only   good  friends  can  give.     vi   My   colleagues   at   the   University   of   the   Arts   welcomed   me   into   the   community  and  gave  me  a  sense  of  belonging.     The  Greenfield  Librarians  at  the  University  of  the  Arts,  Mary  Louise  Castaldi,   Carol  Graney,  and  Sara  MacDonald  provided  me  with  almost  all  of  the  secondary   source  material  I  needed  for  my  work.     I   wrote   the   majority   of   my   dissertation   while   on   a   paid   junior-­‐research   leave,  and  I  could  not  have  completed  my  draft  without  sustained  time  to  consider   and  expand  upon  my  ideas.         vii   TABLE  OF  CONTENTS     Page   ABSTRACT  ..........................................................................................................................  iii   DEDICATION  ......................................................................................................................  iv   ACKNOWLEDGMENTS  ........................................................................................................  v   LIST  OF  FIGURES  ..............................................................................................................  viii     CHAPTER   1. INTRODUCTION  ............................................................................................................  1   2. FROM  THE  ATELIER  TO  THE  AVANT-­‐GARDE  ...............................................................  11   3. NEW  CONSIDERATION  OF  VAN  GOGH’S  PARIS  EXHIBITIONS  .....................................  68   4. AGRICULTURE  AND  INDUSTRY  IN  VAN  GOGH’S  MONTMARTRE  AND   CLICHY  IMAGERY  ......................................................................................................  143   5. SYMBOLISM  IN  PARIS  ...............................................................................................  207   6. CONCLUSION  ............................................................................................................  259     BIBLIOGRAPHY  ................................................................................................................  265   APPENDIX   IMAGES……………………………………………………………………………………………274         viii   LIST  OF  FIGURES     Chapter  2:  From  the  Atelier  to  the  Avant-­‐Garde   Figure   Page   1. The  Discus  Thrower,  February  1886.  Chalk  on  paper,  56.2  x  44.3  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1364e…….…………………………………………..11,  19   2. Female  Standing  Nude  Seen  from  the  Side,  January-­‐February  1886.     Pencil  on  Paper,  50.4  x  39.2  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F1699….11,  19   3. The  Potato  Eaters,  April-­‐May  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  82  x  114  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  82…..…………………………………………………………11   4. Jozef  Israëls,  Peasant  Family  at  the  Table,  1882.     Oil  on  canvas,  71  x  105  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam………………..…………11     5. Standing  Male  and  Seated  Female  Nudes,  March-­‐May  1886.     Chalk  on  paper,  31.4  x  47.5  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1363ar…………………………………………..13,  19,  31     6. Studies  of  a  Seated  Girl,  L’Ecorché  and  Venus,       March-­‐May  1886.  Chalk  on  paper,  47.5  x  62  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1366r………………………………………………...13,  31   7. Torso  of  Venus,  June  1886.  Oil  on  cardboard,  46.4  x  38.1  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  216b…………..………………………..……….13,  19,  30   8. Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg,  June/July  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  27.5  x  46  cm.     Sterling  and  Francine  Clark  Institute,     Williamstown,  Massachusetts.  F  223…………………………………………………………13,  35   9. Bridges  across  the  Seine  at  Asnières,  1887.    Oil  on  canvas,  52  x  65  cm.     Foundation  E.G.  Bührle  Collection,  Zurich………………………………………..….17,  51,  62   10. Boulevard  de  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  55  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  292……………………………………………………………17   11. The  Restaurant  de  la  Sirène  at  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  65  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  313…………………………………..18   ix   12. The  Sower  (After  Millet),  April  1881.   Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  48.1  cm  x  36.7  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  830……………………………………………….………….23     13. Jean-­‐François  Millet,  The  Sower,  1850.     Oil  on  canvas,  101.6  x  82.6  cm.  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston…………………..…….23   14. Peasant  Women  Digging  up  Potatoes,  August  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  31.5  x  42.5  cm.  F  97.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands……………………………………………………….23     15. Pietà  (after  Delacroix),  September  1889.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  cm  x  60.5  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  630…….……23     16. View  of  Het  Steen,  December  1885.     Pen  and  ink,  chalk,  pencil,  on  paper,  13.1  cm  x  21.1  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  977……………………………………………………………25     17. Portrait  of  an  Old  Man,  December  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  44.4  cm  x  33.7  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  205…………………………………………………………..27     18. Head  of  a  Skeleton  with  a  Burning  Cigarette,  January-­‐February  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  32.3  x  28.4  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.    F  212…………………………………………………………..28   19. Karel  Verlat,  Ariadne  et  amor,  1880………………………………………………………………..28     20. Eugène  Siberdt,  La  juene  orpheline,  1886.  Oil  on  panel,  52  x  37  cm…………….….28     21. Rembrandt,  The  Pilgrims  at  Emmaus,  1648.     Oil  on  canvas,  68  cm  x  65  cm.  Louvre,  Paris…………………………………………………….39     22. Claude  Monet,  Vétheuil,  c.  1878-­‐1881.     Oil  on  canvas.  Private  Collection,  England……………………………………………………….40   23. Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  Lunch  at  the  Restaurant  Fournaise     (The  Boater’s  Lunch  or  Les  canotiers),  1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  55  x  65.9  cm.  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Chicago………………..……….44     24. Edgar  Degas,  Femme  accoundée  près  d’un  pot  de  fleurs,  1865.     Oil  on  canvas,  73.7  x  92.7  x  46.2  cm.   The  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York  City…………………………………………..44     x   25. Claude  Monet,  Tempête  sur  les  côtes  de  Belle-­‐Isle,  1886.       Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay…………………………………………………..…..44     26. Claude  Monet,  Pyramides  de  Port-­‐Coton,  Belle-­‐Isle,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.5  x  65.5  cm.  Private  collection………………………………….………….44   27. Paul  Gauguin,  Baigneurs,  nd.     Private  Collection.  Mr.  &  Mrs.  B.E.  Bensiger,  Chicago…………………….……………….44     28. La  Guinguette,  October  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  49  x  64  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  238…………………………….…….46     29. Bords  de  rivière  au  printemps:  pont  de  Clichy,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  50  x  60  cm.  Museum  of  Art,  Dallas,  F  352…………………………….…..46     30. Bank  of  the  Seine,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  32  x  45  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  293…………………………………………………………..48   31. Femme  dans  un  jardin,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  48  x  60  cm.  Private  collection.  F  368…………………………….…………..48       32. George  Seurat,     Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island  of  La  Grande-­‐Jatte,  1884-­‐1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  205.7  x  305.7  cm.  The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Illinois……………..53           33. Camille  Pissarro,  Apple  Picking,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  128  x  128  cm.     Ohara,  Museum  of  Art,  Kurashiki,  Japan………………………………………………………...53   34. Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.    Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.  National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne……….……….53   35. Interior  of  a  Restaurant,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  56.5  cm.  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands……………...53     36. Claude  Monet,  Impression:  Sunrise,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  48  x  63  cm.  Musée  Marmottan,  Paris…………………………………….…54     37. Claude  Monet,  Boulevard  des  Capucines,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  79.4  x  59  cm.     The  Nelson-­‐Arkins  Museum  of  Art,  Kansas  City,  Missouri……………………..…..55,  58         xi   38. Edgar  Degas,  Girl  Drying  Herself,  from  Suite  of  Nudes,  1885.     Pastel  on  paper,  80.1  x  51.2  cm.     National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington  DC……………………………………..……………..57,  58     39. Edgar  Degas,  The  Baker’s  Wife,  from  Suite  of  Nudes,  1885.     Pastel  on  paper,  67  x  52.1  cm.     The  Henry  and  Rose  Perlman  Foundation……………………………………………………….57     40. Georges  Seurat,  The  Harbor  at  Grandcamp,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81.2  cm.  Private  Collection……………………………………….……….57         41. Paul  Signac,     Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.1  x  64.1  cm.     Collection  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ray  Dolby,  San  Francisco……………………………………….57   42. Paul  Gauguin,  Edge  of  the  Pond,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  81  x  65  cm.  Civica  Galleria  d’Arte  Moderna,  Milan………….………..57     43. Camille  Pissarro,  View  from  My  Window  in  Cloudy  Weather,  1886-­‐1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  80  cm.  The  Ashmolean  Museum,  Oxford……………………..……57     44. Paul  Gauguin,  Women  Bathing,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  38.1  x  46.2  cm.   The  National  Museum  of  Western  Art,  Tokyo………………………………………………….58       45. Plaster  Cast  of  a  Woman’s  Torso,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  40.5  x  27  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.    F216g……………………………….………………………..60   46. Reclining  Nude,  January-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  59.7  x  73.7  cm.     The  Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  328…………………………………..……………….60   47. Francisco  Goya,  La  mama  denude,  c.  1797-­‐1800.     Oil  on  canvas,  97  c  190  cm.  Museo  del  Prado,  Spain………………………………….…...60     48. Claude  Monet,  Les  bains  de  la  Grenouillère,  1869.     Oil  on  canvas,  74.6  x  99.7  cm.  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York……..…..62   49. Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  La  Grenouillère,  1869.     Oil  on  canvas,  66.5  x  81  cm.  National  Museum,  Stockholm………………………….….62     50. Comparison………………………………………………………………………………………………….…62   xii   51. Claude  Monet,  Train  in  the  Countryside,  circa  1870.     Oil  on  canvas,  19.68  ×  25.59  in.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris………………..……………….…..64   52. Claude  Monet,  The  Railway  Bridge  from  the  Port,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  66  x  99  cm…………………………………………………………………….………….64     Chapter  3:  New  Consideration  of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  Exhibitions   Figure     1. Map  of  Montmartre,  Clichy  and  Asnières     from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37……….72     2. Map  detail  of  Clichy  and  Asnières     from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37……….72     3. Map  detail  of  Montmartre  from     Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37………………..72     4. Agostina  Segatori  au  café  du  Tambourin,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  55.4  x  46.5  cm.     Vincent  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  370………………………………………………73     5. Basket  of  Pansies,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  55.5  cm.       Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  244…………………………………………………...73,  103     6. Fritillaires,  couronne  impériale  dans  un  vase  de  cuivre,  April-­‐May  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  75.5  x  60.5  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  213……………..………74,  104     7. Portrait  of  Etienne-­‐Lucien  Martin,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  65.5  x  54.5  cm.    Van   Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  289………………………………………………………………….75     8. Émile  Bernard,  Portrait  of  the  Artist’s  Grandmother,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  53  x  64  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam…………………………………………..…………………76,  114     9. Émile  Bernard,  Ragpickers  at  Clichy,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  39  x  59  cm.  Private  Collection……………………………………76,  124,  132     10. Factories  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.9  x  72.8  cm.     The  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum.  F  317………………………………………………………….77,  124     xiii   11. Factory  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  54  cm.     Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  318………………………………………………..…77,  124     12. Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  fall  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  92  x  75  cm.     Musée  Rodin,  Paris.  F  363……………………………………………………………………..…77,  109     13. Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  at  Asnières,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  75  x  112.5  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  314…….79,  137     14. Camille  Pissarro,  Apple  Picking,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  128  x  128  cm.     Ohara,  Museum  of  Art,    Kurashiki,  Japan…………………………………………………………85     15. Lucien  Pissarro,  Van  Gogh  in  Conversation  with  Félix  Fénéon,     black  crayon,  circa  1886-­‐1888…………………………………………………………………………88     16. Louis-­‐Emile  Anquetin,  Old  Peasant,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas………………………………….99     17. Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  1887.  Oil  in  canvas,  43  x  61.     Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York  City.  F  375………………………………………..99     18. Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  1887.     Oil  in  canvas,  50  x  60.     Kuntsmuseum,  Bern,  Switzerland.  F  376………………………………………………………….99     19. Basket  with  Potatoes,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  44.5  x  60  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  100…………………………………………………………101         20. Le  Cinéraire  (The  Funeral),  July-­‐August  1886.     Oil  in  canvas,  54.5  x  46.   Museum  Boymans-­‐van  Beuningen,  Rotterdam.  F  282……………………………………103     21. Roses  Trémières  dans  une  cruche  (Hollyhocks  in  a  Jug),     August-­‐September  1886.  Oil  in  canvas,  94  x  51.   Kunsthaus,  Zurich.  F  235……………………………………………………………………………….103     22. Fleurs  et  Tournesols  (Roses  and  Sunflowers),  fall  1886.     Oil  in  canvas,  50  x  61.   Städtische  Kunsthalle,  Mannheim.  F  250.  ……………………………………………………..103     23. Gustave  Courbet,  Hollyhocks  in  a  Copper  Bowl,  1872   Oil  on  canvas,  60  x  49  cm.     Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston………………………………………………………..………………103     xiv   24. Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  Mixed  Flowers  in  an  Earthenware  Pot,  ca.  1869.     Oil  on  canvas,  64.9  x  54.2  cm.  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston…………………………103       25. Armand  Guillaumin,  Nature  morte  aux  chrysanthèmes,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  75  x  60  cm.     Musée  du  Petit  Palais,  Geneva………………………………………………………………………103     26. Claude  Monet,  Vase  of  Flowers,  ca.  1881-­‐1882.     Oil  on  canvas,  100.4  x  81.9  cm.     Courtauld  Gallery,  London…………………………………………………………………………….103     27. Paul  Signac,  Nature  morte:  oranges,  pomme  et  livre  Au  soleil,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  32.5  x  46.5  cm.     Staatliche  Museen,  Berlin………………………………………………………………………………105     28. Grapes,  Lemons,  Pears  and  Apples,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  55.2  cm.     The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Illinois.  F  382…………………………………………………….106         29. Head  of  a  Peasant  Woman  with  a  Day  Cap,  March  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  43  x  33.5  cm.     Rijksmuseum,  Amsterdam…………………………………………………………………………….110     30. Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  1887.       Oil  on  canvas.  F  263……………………………………………………………………………………….113     31. Émile  Bernard,  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas…………………………114     32. The  Parsonage  Garden  in  Snow,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas  on  panel,  59  x  78  cm.     Norton  Simon  Art  Foundation,  Pasadena………………………………………………………118     33. Émile  Bernard,  Verger  à  Pont-­‐Aven,  August  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  52  x  53  cm.     Private  Collection………………………………………………………………………………………….119     34. Émile  Bernard  and  Vincent  van  Gogh  (his  back  to  the  camera)     along  the  Seine  in  Asnières……………………………………………………………………………120     35. Paul  Signac,  Pierre  Hâlé’s  Windmill,  Saint-­‐Briac,  1884.     Oil  on  canvas,  60  x  92  cm.     Private  Collection………………………………………………………………………………………….121     xv   36. Paul  Signac,  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.1  x  64.1  cm.     Collection  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ray  Dolby,  San  Francisco……………………………………..121     37. Claude  Monet,  Apple  Trees  in  Bloom  beside  the  Water,  1880.     Oil  on  canvas,  73x  60  cm.     Private  Collection…………………………………………………………….……………………………121     38. Paul  Signac,  La  Seine  à  Asnières:  la  berge,  November  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  100  cm.     Private  Collection,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………121     39. Paul  Signac,  Paris.  Boulevard  de  Clichy.  La  neige,  January  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  65.5  cm.     The  Minneapolis  Institute  of  the  Arts,  Minneapolis……………………………………….121     40. Claude  Monet,  Studio  Boat,  1874.  Oil  on  canvas.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands……………………………………………………..122     41. Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne…………………………………………………………122     42. Paul  Signac,  Sunlight,  Quai  de  Clichy,  Opus,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  65  cm.     The  Baltimore  Museum  of  Art,  Maryland………………………………………………………124     43. Émile  Bernard,  Les  Chiffonniers:  Ponts  de  fer  à  Asnières,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.9  x  54.2  cm.     The  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York  City………………………………………….124,  132     44. Albert  Fernique,     Plan  de  l’usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….127     45. Albert  Fernique,     Atelier  Charronnage  de  l’usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………….………127     46. Albert  Fernique,  Grues  de  débarquement,     L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….127     xvi   47. Camille  Pissarro,  Barge  at  La  Roche-­‐Guyon,  circa  1865.     Museé  Pissarro,  Pontoise………………………………………………………………………………133         48. Camille  Pissarro,  L’Ile  Lacroix,  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  44  x  55  cm.   Philadelphia  Museum  of  Art,  Pennsylvania……………………………………………………133         49. Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  December  1887-­‐February  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.1  x  50  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  522…………………………………………………………139     Chapter  4:  Agriculture  and  Industry  in  Van  Gogh’s  Montmartre  and  Clichy  Imagery   Figure     1. Weaver  with  a  baby  in  a  high  chair,  1884.     Pencil  pen  in  brown  ink,  heightened  with  opaque  watercolor,     on  wove  paper,  32  x  40  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1118……………………………………………………….143     2. Interior  of  a  Restaurant,  summer  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  56.5  cm.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  342………………………………………………….144     3. Boulevard  de  Clichy,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  55  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  292…………………………………………………………144     4. Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments,  March-­‐April  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.2  x  81.4  cm   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  346………………………………………………….147,  168           5. Factories  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.9  x  72.8  cm.     The  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum.  F  317………………………………………………..147,  190,  195     6. The  View  from  Vincent’s  Room,  rue  Lepic,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  board,  46  x  38.  Private  collection.    F  341a……………………………………………148     7. View  from  Théo’s  Apartment,  March-­‐April  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.9  x  38.1.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  341…………………………………………………………148     8. Moulin  Radet  dit  de  la  Galette  à  Paris,  1923.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….155     xvii   9. Eugène  Atget,  Montmartre,  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  Rue  Lepic,  1899.   (I  think  this  may  be  Le  Radet.)   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….155     10. Eugène  Atget,  Montmartre,  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  Rue  Lepic,  1899.   (I  think  this  may  be  Le  Blute-­‐fin.)   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….155     11. View  of  Paris,  from  Montmartre,    late  summer  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  38.5  x  61.5  cm.       Kunstmuseum,  Basel.  F  262…………………………………………………………………………..156     12. Terrace  and  Observation  Deck  at  the  Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin,     Montmartre,  early  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  43.6  x  33  cm.  The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago.  F  272…………………….156     13. Plan  of  Paris:  Montmartre,  the  rue  Lepic,  and  the  Moulin  de  la  Galette.   Archives  numérisées  de  Paris,  PP/11834/E……………………………………………………156     14. Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Le  Moulin  de  la  Galette  et  la  montée  de  la  rue  Lepic   étant  placé  au  coin  de  la  rue  d'Orchamp  (I  think  this  is  Le  Radet),  1895.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….157     15. Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Rue  Lepic  à  Montmartre:     Entrée  du  Moulin  Debray  (Bal  public)  (Le  Blute-­‐fin),  1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….157     16. Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Impasse  des  2  frères  rue  Lepic,  1884.   (I  think  this  is  Le  Radet.)  Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France……………………………157     17. Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Montmartre  Le  Moulin  Des  frères  Debray,     Restaurant  Guinguette,  1888.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….157     18. Moulin  de  la  Galette  (Le  Moulin  Le  Radet,  vue  de  la  rue  Girardon),     mid-­‐October  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  38.5  x  46.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  227…………………………………………..157     19. Pierre-­‐Auguste  Renoir,  Bal  du  moulin  de  la  Galette,  1876.     Oil  on  canvas,  131  x  175  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………….158         xviii   20. La  Guinguette  du  Moulin  Le  Radet,  mid-­‐October  1886.     Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  chalk,  on  paper,  38.5  x  52  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1407……………………………………………………….158     21. La  Guinguette,  mid-­‐October  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  49  x  64  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  238………………………………………..…………………………………158     22. The  Hill  of  Montmartre,  April-­‐May  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  38.1  x  61.1  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  266………………………………………………….159     23. The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry,  June-­‐July  1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  32  x  41  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  229…………………………………………………………159         24. The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry,  June-­‐July  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  56.3  x  62.6  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  230…………………………………………………………159         25. John  Constable,  The  Cornfield,  1826.  Oil  on  canvas.   The  National  Gallery,  London………………………………………………………………………..160     26. Le  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  18  x  15  inches.   Glasgow  Art  Gallery  and  Museum…………………………………………………………………163     27. Le  Blute-­‐fin:  le  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  38  cm.     The  Carnegie  Museum  of  Art,  Pittsburg.  F  348………………………………………………166     28. Le  Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas.  Fundatie  museum,  Zwolle…………168     29. Vegetable  Gardens  of  Montmartre,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  96  x  120  cm.   Stedelijk  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  350……………………………………………………………168     30. Pierre  Vidal,  detail  from  the  illustrated  book     La  Vie  à  Montmartre  by  Georges  Montorgueil,  1899.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France………………………………………………………………….170     31. Paul  Signac,  Rue  Caulaincourt.  Moulins  à  Montmartre,  1884.     Oil  on  canvas,  35  x  27  cm.   Musée  Carnavalet,  Paris………………………………………………………………………………..170     xix   32. Flower  Beds  in  Holland,  c.  1883.  Oil  on  canvas,  48.9  x  66  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington  DC…………………………………………………........175     33. Camille  Pissarro,  The  Gardens  of  l’Hermitage,  Pontoise,  c.  1867.     Oil  on  canvas.   National  Gallery,  Prague………………………………………………………………………………..177         34. Wheatfield  with  Partridge,  June-­‐July  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.7  x  65.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  310…………………………………………………………179               35. Sheaves  of  Wheat,  July-­‐August  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  40.2  x  30  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  193………………………………………………….180     36. Peasant  Woman  Binding  Sheaves,  July-­‐September  1885.     Chalk  on  paper,  56.3  cm  x  44.5  cm   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1266……………………………………………………….180     37. Peasant  Woman  Digging,  July-­‐September  1885.     Chalk  on  paper,  55.7  x  41  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1255……………………………………………………….180     38. The  Sower  (After  Millet),  April  1881.     Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  48.1  x  36.7  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  830…………………………………………………………182     39. Jean-­‐François  Millet,  The  Gleaners,  1857.     Oil  on  canvas,  83.3  x  111.8  cm.   Muse  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………….182     40. Camille  Pissarro,  Haymaking,  Regan,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  55  x  66  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam……………………………………………………………………182     41. Gate  in  the  Paris  Rampart,  summer  1887.     Pencil,  pen  and  ink  and  watercolor  on  paper,  24.1  x  31.6  cm.       Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1401………………………………………….……184,  187     42. Road  Running  Beside  the  Paris  Ramparts,  June  1887.     Pencil,  watercolor,  chalk,  brush  and  (oil?)  paint,  pen  and  ink,  on  paper,     39.7  cm  x  53.8  cm   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1400……………………………………………….184,  188     xx   43. Fortifications  of  Paris  with  Houses,  1887.     Watercolor,  black  chalk,  and  gouache,  heightened  with  pencil  on  laid  paper,   24.1  x  31.6  cm   Whitworth  Art  Gallery,  University  of  Manchester.    F  1403…………………………….184     44. Fortifications  of  Paris,  1887.     Watercolor,  black  chalk,  and  gouache,  heightened  with  pencil  on  laid  paper,   39.5  x  54  cm.       Location  unknown.  F  1402…………………………………………………………………………….184     45. Lucien  Pissarro,  Sur  les  fortifications,  1886.     Pencil  and  black  chalk,  19.6  x  29.2  cm.       Ashmolean  Museum,  Oxford…………………………………………………………………………186     46. Factory  at  Clichy,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  54  cm.     Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  318…………………………………………………………190     47. Allotment  with  Sunflower,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  43.2  x  36.2  cm.       Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  388v……………………………………………………….190     48. Coke  Factory  in  the  Borinage,  July-­‐August  1879.     Pencil  and  watercolor  on  paper,  26.4  x  37.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1040……………………………………………………….193     49. Gasworks,  The  Hague,  March  1882.     Pencil,  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  23.8  cm  x  33.8  cm   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  924…………………………………………………………193     50. Édouard  Manet,  A  Bar  at  the  Folies  Bergère,  1882.     Oil  on  canvas,      96  x  130  cm.     Courtauld  Gallery,  London…………….………………………………………………………………197           51. Edgar  Degas,  The  Song  of  the  Dog,  1875-­‐1877.     Oil  on  canvas,  51.8  x  42.6  cm.   Private  Collection………………………………………………….………………………………………197         52. Verrerie  du  Pont  de  Clichy,  documented  by  Michel  Baltzer  c.  1900.     Published  by  Jim  Friant………………………………………………………………………………….198     53. Claude  Monet,  Men  Unloading  Coal,  1873-­‐1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  66  cm.    Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………..201           xxi   54. Émile  Bernard  (facing)  and     Vincent  Van  Gogh  on  the  banks  of  Asnières,  dated  1886,  probably  1887.   Vincent  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam……………………………………………………….201         55. Le  Pont  à  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  53  x  73  cm.     Collection  of  Dominique  de  Menil,  Houston.  F  240………………………………………..201           56. Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne…………………………………………………………201     57. Émile  Bernard.  Vue  du  pont  d’Asnières  (View  from  the  Bridge  of  Asnières),     late  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  38  x  46  cm.     Museé  des  Beaux-­‐Arts…………………………………………………………………………..………202       58. Camille  Pissarro,  Factories  near  Pontoise,  1873.  Oil  on  canvas.   Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Springfield,  Massachusetts………………………………………….204       Chapter  5:  Symbolism  in  Paris   Figure     1. Sower,  June  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  64.2  x  80.3  cm.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  422…………………………………………..208     2. Fourteen  Flowers  in  a  Vase,  August  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  93  x  73  cm.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  454…………………………………………..208     3. Terrace  of  a  Café  at  Night,  September  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  80.7  x  65.3  cm.   Kroller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  467…………………………………………..208     4. The  Night  Café,  September  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  70  x  89  cm.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  463……………..…………………...208,  237       5. The  Potato  Eaters,  April-­‐May  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  82  x  114  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  82……………………………………………………………209       6. Starry  Night,  1889.  Oil  on  canvas,  73.7  x  92.1  cm.     Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York  City.  F  612………………………………………………210     xxii   7. Park  at  Asnières  in  Spring,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  1887.  50  x  65  cm.  F  362…………………………………………………..211,  223         8. Patch  of  Grass,  April-­‐June  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  30.8  x  39.7  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  583………………………………………….211,  239     9. Path  in  the  Woods,  May-­‐July  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.3  x  37.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  309…………………………………………………………211     10. Exterior  of  a  Restaurant  in  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  18.5  x  27  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  321………………………………………………….211,  227       11. Paul  Gauguin,  Vision  After  the  Sermon,  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  92  cm.  Scottish  National  Gallery,  Edinburgh…………………….214       12. Romans  parisiens,  fall  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  93  cm.   Private  Collection.  F  359………………………………………………………………………………..215     13. Still  Life  with  Bible,  October  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  65.7  x  78.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  117…………………………………………………………216     14. Three  Novels,  January-­‐February  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  31.1  x  48.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  335…………………………………………………………217     15. Gustave  Moreau,  The  Apparition,  1876.     Watercolor,  72.2  x  106  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………….220     16. Sous-­‐Bois,  summer  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  55.5  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  309…………………………………………………………223         17. Avenue  of  Poplars  in  Autumn,  October  1884.     Oil  on  canvas,  99  x  65.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  122…………………………………………………………228     18. Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  38.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  181…………………………………………………………231         xxiii   19. Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  December  1887-­‐Febraury  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.1  x  50  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  522…………………………………………………………231     20. Camille  Pissarro,  Pond  at  Montfoucault,  1874.     Oil  on  canvas,  53.5  x  65.5  cm.  Private  Collection……………………………………………236         21. Claude  Monet,  Woman  with  a  Parasol—Madame  Monet  and  Her  Son,  1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  100  x  81  cm.  National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  DC…………….236     22. Café  table  with  Absinthe,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.3  x  33.2  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  339………….237     23. Bertall,  Manet  as  Jesus  with  his  Disciples,  1870…………………………………………….247     24. Georges  Seurat,     Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island  of  La  Grande  Jatte,  1884-­‐1886.    Oil  on  canvas,  207.5  x  308.1  cm.  Art  Institute,  Chicago…………………………………248       25. Way  in  the  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  in  Asnières,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  59  x  81  cm.     Yale  University  Art  Gallery,  New  Haven,  Connecticut…………………………………….249       26. Édouard  Manet,  Olympia,  1863.     Oil  on  canvas,  190  x  130  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris……………………………………….250       27. Claude  Monet,  Woman  with  a  Parasol—Madame  Monet  and  Her  Son,  1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  100  x  81  cm.  National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  DC…………….254       28. Berthe  Morisot,  The  Wet  Nurse  Angèle  Feeding  Julie  Manet,  1880.     Oil  on  canvas,  50.2  x  61  cm.  Private  Collection,  New  York………………..……………254       29. Camille  Pissarro,  The  Shepherdess,  1881.  Oil  on  canvas,  81  x  64.7  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris…………………………………………………………………………………….254       30.  Camille  Pissarro,  Le  Chemin  de  fer  de  Dieppe,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  65  cm.  Private  Collection…………………………………………………254       31.  Georges  Seurat,  La  Luzerne,  Saint-­‐Denis:  champ  de  coquelicots,  1885-­‐1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  64  x  81  cm   National  Galleries  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh..……………………………………………………254         xxiv     32. Paul  Gauguin,  Tropical  Vegetation,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  116  x  89  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh…………………………………………..……………255       33. The  Restaurant  Rispal  in  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  72  x  60  cm.    Nelson-­‐Atkins  Museum  of  Art,  Kansas  City…………………………………………………..258                                                                           1   CHAPTER  1:  INTRODUCTION        Living  in  Paris  from  February  1886  through  February  1888,  Vincent  van  Gogh   (1853-­‐1890)  completed  more  than  two  hundred  paintings  and  works  on  paper  and   had  one  of  the  most  productive  periods  of  his  career.  Considering  that  his  artistic   practice  spanned  only  a  decade  from  1880  to  1890,  the  artist’s  time  in  the  capital   represents  a  significant  period  of  growth  in  terms  of  his  engagement  with  the  art   market,   his   exposure   to   avant-­‐garde   imagery,   and   his   understanding   of   Symbolist   theory   in   the   visual   arts.   Van   Gogh   sought   out   artists   and   critics   whose   work   changed  the  trajectory  of  his  painting  practice:  from  the  dark,  somber  paintings  he   made  in  The  Netherlands  to  the  improvisational  brushwork  and  saturated  color  of   the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists.  By  the  summer  of  1886,  the  artist  began   experimenting  with  texture,  hue,  and  perspective  in  landscape,  portraiture,  and  still-­‐ life,  developing  pictorial  strategies  that  underpin  the  Symbolist  works  he  generated   after  he  left  the  capital  and  moved  to  Arles.      Scholars  generally  address  Van  Gogh’s  two  years  in  Paris  as  a  biographical   point.  Moreover,  Van  Gogh  scholarship  is  problematic  because  the  artist’s  life  is  one   of  the  most  documented  in  the  history  of  art.1  There  are  over  800  extant  letters  by                                                                                                                   1  Richard  Shiff,  “Art  History  and  the  Nineteenth  Century:  Realism  and  Resistance,”  Art  Bulletin  70.1   (March  1988):  29-­‐31.  Louis  van  Tilborgh,  “The  Parisian  Self-­‐Portraits  by  Van  Gogh,”  Van  Gogh  Bulletin   2  (1994):  2-­‐7.         2   Vincent,  651  written  to  his  brother  and  art  dealer  Théo  van  Gogh  (1857-­‐1891).  In  his   letters,  the  artist  explained  novels  he  was  reading  and  paintings  he  thought  about,   and   gave   a   detailed   account   of   his   artistic   process.   According   to   Richard   Shiff,   scholars  push  aside  theoretical  issues  because  there  are  overwhelming  facts  of  the   artist’s  life,  which  continue  to  accumulate.  On  the  other  hand,  the  artist  wrote  few   letters  while  in  the  capital  because  he  was  living  with  his  brother;  ten  letters  remain.   Thus,  the  Paris  period  poses  difficulties  due  to  the  lack  of  first-­‐hand  evidence  and   the  often-­‐exaggerated  instances  acquaintances  recalled.  I  think  this  may  contribute   to  the  lack  of  scholarly  attention  paid  to  the  paintings  the  artist  created  in  Paris.    Bogomila   Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s   research,   particularly   her   1988   catalog   for   an   exhibition   at   the   Musée   d’Orsay,   was   a   benchmark   in   Van   Gogh   Paris-­‐period   studies.2  She   pieced   together   the   whereabouts   of   many   images   and   situated   Van   Gogh’s   practice   within   Paris,   comparing   his   paintings   to   those   of   contemporary   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   painters.   To   date,   her   catalog   is   the   most   comprehensive  study  of  the  artist’s  Paris  period.  Since  this  publication,  Carol  Zemel,   Cornelia  Homburg,  Richard  Thomson,  and  John  House  have  studied  the  theoretical   implications  the  Parisian  avant-­‐garde  had  on  Van  Gogh’s  work  and  thereafter  as  it                                                                                                                   2  Bogomila   Ovcharov-­‐Welsh,   Vincent   Van   Gogh:   His   Paris   Period   1886-­‐1888.   Diss.   (University   of   Toronto,  1976.  Utrecht-­‐Den  Haag:  Editions  Victorine,  1976).  Bogomila  Ovcharov-­‐Welsh,  Van  Gogh  à   Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988).           3   figures  into  discussions  larger  in  scope.  Homburg  considers  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  sojourn   central  to  his  developing  artistic  identity  and  entry  into  modern  painting;  a  body  of   work,  she  notes,  that  should  not  be  peripheral  to  the  later  imagery.3  To  consider  Van   Gogh’s  decision  to  move  to  Paris  and  his  subsequent  study  of  avant-­‐garde  painting,   my   exploration   leads   from   their   respective   observations   and   takes   into   account   Shiff’s  concerns.  I  do  not  rely  on  biographical  points  or  overemphasize  the  letters.  I   aim  to  consider  the  critical  conversations  occurring  in  Paris  and  how  they  affected   the  artist’s  aesthetic.      To  begin,  in  chapter  two,  I  consider  how  market  patterns  shaped  Van  Gogh’s   decision   to   learn   academic   drawing   and   painting   skills   and   to   then   engage   with   avant-­‐garde   techniques.   The   artist   had   two   transitions   in   Paris:   the   first   from   academic   to   avant-­‐garde   strategies,   and   the   second   from   a   close   study   of   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   methods   to   his   unique   modernist   painterly   vernacular.  Although  scholars  typically  view  Van  Gogh’s  academic  studies  as  a  brief   course  of  study  before  his  exposure  to  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  I   draw   from   Zemel’s   point   that   Van   Gogh   intentionally   weighed   market-­‐driven   opportunities.  Rather  than  focus  on  the  painter’s  clerical  studies  as  the  impetus  for   his   early   painting   strategies,   I   make   Zemel’s   observation   central   to   my   analysis                                                                                                                   3  Cornelia   Homburg,   “Vincent   van   Gogh’s   Avant-­‐Garde   Strategies,”   in   Vincent   Van   Gogh   and   the   Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum,  2001)  21-­‐ 30.         4   regarding   Van   Gogh’s   Paris-­‐period   shifts.   I   examine   how   the   artist   crafted   avant-­‐ garde  works  to  appeal  to  a  niche  market  and  how  he  arrived  at  a  newfound  sense  of   modernism.      Van  Gogh’s  clerical  studies  typically  overshadow  the  seven  years  he  spent   studying   the   works   of   old   masters   and   contemporary   artists   at   Goupil   &   Cie.,   a   successful  print  shop  with  branches  in  Europe  and  London.  Although  the  artist  wrote   a  passionate  letter  to  Théo  equating  the  power  of  a  Rembrandt  painting  with  that  of   the   Gospel,   he   wrote   the   letter   in   1880   while   he   was   just   beginning   his   painting   career.4  In  the  letter,  he  persuaded  his  brother  to  help  him,  and  he  noted  that  his   artistic  pursuits  could  foster  a  meaningful  relationship  with  God.  In  context,  Vincent   broke  a  year-­‐long  silence  with  Théo,  and  the  exchange  established  the  monetary  and   professional  support  Théo  provided  for  the  rest  of  the  artist’s  life.  Vincent  admitted   to  having  let  his  family  down  since  leaving  his  clerical  studies,  and  wanted  to  smooth   over  the  relationship  with  Théo  because  he  distanced  himself  from  his  parents.  To   re-­‐consider  the  religiously  based  reasoning  behind  Van  Gogh’s  decision  to  become  a   painter,   I   address   how   the   artist   developed   an   avant-­‐garde   approach   while   he   studied   in   the   atelier   of   Karl   Verlat   in   Antwerp   and   Fernand   Cormon   in   Paris.   I   establish  how  Théo’s  connections  at  Goupil  &  Cie.,  where  he  worked  in  Montmartre,   fostered  Vincent’s  understanding  of  experimental  work  within  the  art  market.  I  also                                                                                                                   4  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  155  to  Théo  from  Cuesmes,  Belgium  around  22  or  24,  June  1880.           5   understand  Van  Gogh’s  unique  painterly  techniques  as  a  response  to,  rather  than  an   adaptation  of,  paintings  by  artists  such  as  Camille  Pissarro  (1830-­‐1903)  and  Georges   Seurat   (1859-­‐1891).   His   avant-­‐garde   method   developed   to   include   several   ideals   from  modernist  painting,  which  became  an  innovative  aspect  of  his  imagery.      Since  Van  Gogh  relied  on  market  strategies  to  shape  his  path,  I  re-­‐evaluate   the  exhibitions  Van  Gogh  held  while  in  Paris  in  chapter  three.  The  last  Impressionist   exhibition  opened  upon  his  arrival  and  similar  artist-­‐run  shows  in  Paris  provided  an   example  as  to  how  avant-­‐garde  works  operated  within  the  market.  As  a  developing   artist  in  a  new  city,  he  relied  on  a  co-­‐operative  model  and  accepted  varied  ideas  of   mark-­‐making   and   compositional   aims   from   contributing   painters.   Although   it   is   understood  that  Van  Gogh  experimented  with  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist   techniques,  he  did  not  always  maintain  their  autonomy.  For  the  artist,  the  modes   were  not  mutually  exclusive.  Instead,  he  translated  the  painting  approaches  to  his   unique   end.   His   painting   practice   developed   to   consider   how   the   artist’s   idiosyncratic   perspective   could   construct   a   canvas   that   conveyed   concepts   symbolically.         In   considering   the   paintings   he   exhibited,   I   locate   Van   Gogh’s   pictorial   strategies   within   the   ideals   expressed   by   critic   Félix   Fénéon   (1861-­‐1944),   who   articulated   the   theoretical   aspects   of   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   Fénéon   focused   on   the   experiential  concepts  of  the  work  of  art,  which   led  to  a  Symbolist  rhetoric   in  the         6   visual  arts.  While  it  is  commonly  known  that  Van  Gogh  knew  Fénéon  while  in  Paris,   interpreting  the  artist’s   imagery  through  the  critic’s   lens  has  not  been  addressed.   Essentially,   Fénéon’s   theories   encouraged   artists   to   craft   their   canvases   with   the   idea  that  there  can  be  an  intentional  discord  between  the  image  and  the  natural   world.   I   establish   that   Fénéon’s   ideas   are   rooted   in   the   works   of   Édouard   Manet   (1832-­‐1883)   and   Pissarro.   To   explore   how   Fénéon’s   ideas   influenced   Van   Gogh’s   painting  practice  and  that  of  the  up-­‐and-­‐coming  artists  the  painter  met  in  Paris,   I   analyze  the  imagery  Van  Gogh  hung  in  two  exhibitions  he  organized  in  the  capital:  at   the  Café  Tambourin  during  the  summer  of  1887  and  the  collective  Grand  Bouillon   Exhibition  held  in  November  of  1887  at  the  Restaurant  du  Châlet.  I  also  consider  the   landscape  painting  he  included  at  the  Théâtre  Libra  d’Antoine  alongside  the  imagery   of   Seurat   and   Paul   Signac   (1863-­‐1935).   Through   Fénéon,   I   argue   that   the   artist’s   Symbolist   painterly   methods   already   explored   in   Paris   set   a   foundation   to   understand  the  imaginative  and  embodied  space  of  the  participant-­‐viewer.   To   interpret   Van   Gogh’s   paintings   in   relation   to   an   implied   space   of   the   viewer’s   body,   a   concept   set   forth   by   Greg   Thomas   in   relation   to   Théodore   Rousseau’s   landscape   paintings,   I   explore   the   paths   Van   Gogh   included   in   his   imagery   of   Montmartre   and   Clichy   in   chapter   four.5  Van   Gogh’s   arrival   coincided                                                                                                                   5  Greg   M.   Thomas,   Art   and   Ecology   in   Nineteenth-­‐Century   France:   The   Landscape   of   Théodore   Rousseau  (Princeton,  New  Jersey:  Princeton  University  Press,  2000).         7   with  three  national  events  of  French  interest:  the  rise  of  the  socialist  political  party   and  labor  reforms  of  the  working  classes,  the  decision  to  allow  small-­‐scale  farmers   to  manage  their  land  individually  rather  than  collectively,  and  a  miner’s  strike  at  the   Decazeville  coalmine.  In  Paris,  there  were  two  developments  that  dovetailed  with   the  reform  movements  and  the  strike:  the  introduction  of  gas  lights  and  stoves  in   the  homes  of  the  upper  classes  and  a  new  plant  on  the  Seine  in  Clichy  that  used  coal   to   generate   gas.   These   events   implicitly   enter   the   pictorial   narratives   Van   Gogh   developed,   and   he   conveyed   the   experience   of   the   working-­‐class   to   expose   the   confining   and   marginal   spaces   they   occupy.   The   imagery   indicates   that   he   considered   the   connection   between   commodity   and   labor   and   constructed   the   landscape   to   indicate   the   exchange   between   middle-­‐class   spaces   and   lower-­‐class   work.     Van  Gogh’s  paintings  of  Montmartre’s  Butte,  particularly  the  images  of  the   allotment  farms  on  its  northern  slope,  and  the  factory  landscapes  of  Clichy  have  not   been   addressed   in   light   of   the   afore-­‐mentioned   social   and   industrial   movements   occurring   in   France.   I   outline   the   major   socialist   events   and   the   working-­‐class   population  in  Montmartre  to  think  about  Van  Gogh’s  sympathetic  view  of  those  who   labored  to  provide  goods  to  the  city.  The  working  classes  lived  on  the  outskirts  of   the  capital,  and  rather  than  set  his  focus  on  the  city’s  center,  the  artist  painted  the   peasant  farmers  who  rented  plots  on  the  Butte  and  factory  employees  who  worked         8   in  the  Commune  de  Clichy.  The  painter  walked  through  the  arrondissement  and  into   Clichy  and  passed  through  the  fortifications  on  the  boundary.  I  address  the  imagery   of  the  Butte,  the  fortifications,  and  Clichy  to  underscore  the  ways  in  which  Van  Gogh   empathized  with  the  working  classes.  I  find  that  the  artist  depicted  the  agricultural   landscape   as   a   negotiation   between   the   middle-­‐class   and   the   labor-­‐class,   and   painted  the  industrial  landscape  as  an  assertion  of  the  prevalence  of  industry  in  the   lives  of  those  living  and  working  on  the  city’s  periphery.     In  the  last  chapter,  I  posit  that  Van  Gogh’s  Symbolist  aesthetic  strategies  are   at  work  already  in  his  Paris-­‐period  imagery.  Scholars  generally  attribute  Van  Gogh’s   shift  to  Symbolism  to  Paul  Gauguin’s  (1848-­‐1903)  1888  visit  to  Arles.  It  is  commonly   held  that  Gauguin  shared  the  Symbolist  theoretical  methods  with  Van  Gogh  when   they  briefly  lived  together,  and  Van  Gogh  then  began  to  reinvent  his  overall  painterly   approach.  This  narrative  omits  significant  ideals  Van  Gogh  learned  in  Paris.  Symbolist   concepts   extolled   by   critic   Charles   Baudelaire   (1821-­‐1867)   influenced   the   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   painters   and   critics   from   whom   Van   Gogh   learned   avant-­‐garde   painting.   The   Paris-­‐period   imagery   reveals   the   artist’s   engagement  with  a  Symbolist  practice  that  is  more  of  a  mind-­‐set  than  a  series  of   painting   skills.   Moreover,   in   considering   the   tenets   of   Symbolism   in   Van   Gogh’s   imagery,   aspects   of   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism   become   relevant   only   inasmuch  as  they  inform  the  experimental  aesthetic  the  artist  developed.         9    I   examine   the   Symbolist   discourse   occurring   in   Paris   in   the   mid-­‐1880s   to   show  how  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  leads  from  the  ideals  generated  by  the  artists  and   critics  in  Paris.  I  conclude  by  exploring  the  role  of  the  canvas  as  it  was  conceived  by   the  critic  G.-­‐Albert  Aurier  (1865-­‐1892),  the  first  to  write  about  Van  Gogh’s  imagery   during  the  artist’s  lifetime.  The  text  is  significant  because  the  critic  firmly  located  the   artist’s  work  within  the  Symbolist  aesthetic.  Aurier  called  Van  Gogh  his  messiah,  a   leader   to   a   realm   that   exists   beyond   the   material   world,   and   suggested   that   an   imaginatively   created   canvas   can   incite   an   experience   in   the   mind   of   the   viewer.   Although  Aurier  used  Starry  Night  (1889)  to  explain  Van  Gogh’s  aesthetic,  I  find  that   Patch  of  Grass  (1887),  a  painting  Van  Gogh  produced  in  Paris,  functions  similarly  in   its  compressed  figure-­‐ground  relationship  and  highly  abstract  forms.    In  so  doing,  I   claim  that  the  Symbolist  aesthetic  that  is  well  developed  in  images  such  as  Starry   Night,   is   rooted   in   the   Paris-­‐period   works,   namely   Patch.   With   Patch,   Van   Gogh   reinvented   notions   of   landscape,   for   example,   within   the   Symbolist   aesthetic.   Considering   Van   Gogh’s   Paris-­‐period   canvases   in   relation   to   Baudelaire’s   ideas   situates  the  artist’s  transition  within  the  intellectual  milieu  of  Paris  in  the  mid  1880s.   Van  Gogh  was  an  intellectually  driven  artist  who  developed  a  painterly  voice  that  is   grounded  in  Symbolist  theory.       In  reinventing  the  lessons  of  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  Van   Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  paintings  show  the  concepts  of  the  symbolic  imagery  he  created         10   for  the  remainder  of  his  short  life  in  Arles,  St.  Rémy,  or  Auvers-­‐sur-­‐Oise,  where  he   passed  away  two  and  one  half  years  after  leaving  the  capital.  While  not  all  of  the   paintings  Van  Gogh  created  in  Paris  convey  a  well-­‐formulated  aesthetic,  there  are  a   number  of  works  that  clearly  show  the  artist’s  intentional  development  within  the   Parisian   avant-­‐garde   and   how   he   positioned   himself   within   their   milieu.   On   his   arrival,   he   brought   with   him   ideas   of   painting   that   rely   on   a   descriptive   mimetic   approach   and   a   metaphorical   use   of   color   and   form.   He   left   with   a   radically   re-­‐ considered  role  of  the  canvas  in  relation  to  the  viewer  and,  more  importantly,  an   understanding   of   the   canvas   as   a   symbol   in   and   of   itself,   a   pivotal   shift   in   his   approach  to  painting.                               11   CHAPTER  2:  FROM  THE  ATELIER  TO  THE  AVANT-­‐GARDE       “Think   carefully,”   Vincent   wrote   to   Théo   in   late   February   1886,   “about   whether  we  couldn’t  find  a  combination  that  would  make  it  possible  for  me  to  be  in   Paris  before  June.”6  About  four  days  later,  Vincent  arrived  “all  of  the  sudden”  in  the   French   capital   eager   to   live   with   Théo,   an   art   dealer   at   Boussod   and   Valadon,   successors  of  Goupil  &  Cie.7  In  Paris,  the  artist  wanted  to  enroll  in  academic  painting   classes,   an   interest   that   began   in   Antwerp   in   the   atelier   of   Belgian   painter   Karel   Verlat   where   he   drew   from   plaster   casts   and   in   a   drawing   club   that   staged   live   models  [figures  1  &  2].     Prior  to  living  in  Antwerp  and  beginning  his  academic  painting  lessons,  Van   Gogh  developed  a  practice  in  Nuenen  that  culminated  in  The  Potato  Eaters  (1885),   based   on   Jozef   Israëls’s   Peasant   Family   at   the   Table   (1882)   in   which   a   humble   peasant  family  shares  a  simple  meal  [figures  3  &  4].8  Vincent  sent  The  Potato  Eaters   to   Théo   and   asked   him   to   show   it   to   the   well-­‐known   Parisian   art   dealer,   Paul   Durand-­‐Ruel,  who  had  had  success  selling  Barbizon  and  Impressionist  imagery  since                                                                                                                   6  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  566  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  around  Wednesday,  February  24,  1886.       7  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  567  to  Théo  from  Paris  on  February  28,  1886.  “Don’t  be  cross  with  me  that   I’ve  come…I’ve  thought  about  it  this  much  and  I  think  we’ll  save  time  this  way.”       8  Van  Gogh  lived  in  Nuenen  from  1883  through  1885,  when  he  moved  to  Antwerp.             12   the  1870s.9  Théo  reported  that  he  had  shown  the  painting  to  two  other  colleagues;   they  thought  the  painter  needed  to  work  on  his  figures,  and  Vincent  agreed.10  The   reception  of  The  Potato  Eaters  influenced  Van  Gogh’s  foray  into  academic  painting   because  he  wanted  to  produce  saleable  work.  To  him,  this  required  training  steeped   in   an   academic   background,   a   series   of   drawing   and   painting   skills   he   felt   he   lacked.11  Thus,  he  headed  to  a  metropolis  with  ateliers:  Antwerp,  where  he  lived  for   three  months,  and  then  Paris.                                                                                                                     9  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  497  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  on  Thursday,  April  30,  1885.  “As  to  Durand-­‐Ruel— although  he  didn’t  think  the  drawings  worthwhile,  show  him  this  painting.  He  may  think  it  ugly—very   well—but   let   him   see   it   anyway—   so   that   they   may   see   that   we’re   putting   energy   into   our   endeavors.”   Durand-­‐Ruel   did   not   like   some   of   Van   Gogh’s   drawings   that   Théo   had   shown   him   previously,  but  the  artist  hoped  the  dealer  would  respond  well  to  the  painting,  one  he  had  worked   hard  to  craft.   10  On   the   reception   of   The   Potato   Eaters,   Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   506   to   Théo   from   Nuenen   on   Tuesday,  June  2,  1885.  “Thanks  for  sending  the  money  for  this  month  so  promptly.  I’m  satisfied  with   what  you  write  about  the  painting,  the  comments  that  they  made,  Portier  and  Serret,  but  that  they   still  found  good  things  in  it.  I  myself  have  criticisms  of  it,  and  more  serious  ones  than  theirs—that   about  the  torsos—so  I  don’t  wish  them  to  approve  of  the  whole.  When  you  speak  to  them,  just  tell   them  that  it  may  very  well  be  that  I  draw  back  from  the  present  copper  and  green  soap-­‐like  tones,   but  that  this  drawing  back  will,   I  hope,  be  twofold,  namely  that   I  hope  to  paint  some  in  a   lighter   spectrum,  more  flesh  and  blood—but  equally  am  searching  for  something  that’s  even  more  green   soap  and  coppery.”  On  addressing  the  concerns,  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  513  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  on   Sunday,  July  12,  1885.  “But  don’t  take  it  amiss  of  me  when  I  say  that  if  Serret  and  you—and  in  my   view   very   rightly   want   to   see   other   things   in   my   figures—I’ll   have   to   spend   rather   more   on   my   models.”     11  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  551  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  January  2,  1886.  “I…want  to  tell  you  that,   given  my  desire  to  study  the  figure—if  I  weren’t  to  manage  it  here—I  might  perhaps  go  further  afield   rather  than  go  back  to  Holland  before  I’ve  worked  in  a  studio  for  a  while.  And  that  further  afield— might  possibly  be  Paris,  without  hesitation.”  On  Van  Gogh’s  drawing  abilities,  see  letter  565,  which   Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  January  22,  1886.  “With  a  view  to  Cormon,  it’s  decidedly   better  for  me  to  go  on  drawing  plaster  casts  rather  than  working  outdoors,  because  the  more  I  have   the  structure  of  the  figure  in  my  head,  the  better  I’ll  be  able  to  follow…  Because  I’ve  always  worked   from  nature,  I  may  perhaps  be  more  daring  than  many  others  in  dashing  things  off  and  tackling  a   group  of  things.  But  the  others  will  most  likely  have  more  knowledge  of  the  nude,  for  which  I  haven’t         13   Van  Gogh’s  ideal  of  a  Parisian  art  education  was  to  learn  from  master  works   and  study  in  a  well-­‐regarded  studio  surrounded  by  focused  peers.  Once  in  Paris,  he   enrolled   in   the   French   painter   Fernand   Cormon’s   Montmartre   atelier,   making   studies  from  live  models  and  plaster  casts  in  class  and  on  his  own  [figures   5-­‐7].12   Despite  his  atelier  training,  Van  Gogh  left  Cormon’s  studio  early  that  summer  and  no   longer   focused   on   figure   painting,   but   on   landscape,   portraiture,   and   still   life.   In   many   ways,   this   was   a   return   to   the   subject   matter   he   developed   in   Nuenen.   Although  he  tried  to  carve  a  path  in  the  academic  art  market,  he  took  a  decidedly   clear  move  toward  learning  avant-­‐garde  painting  strategies.  Around  the  time  he  left   Cormon’s,  he  painted  Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg  (June/July  1886)  [figure  8],   a  city  landscape  of  Parisians  strolling  through  a  public  park  in  contemporary  dress.   Punctuated  with  bright  spots  of  unblended  color  made  seemingly  quickly  with  the   tip  of  the  artist’s  brush,  Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg  moves  away  from  the   earth-­‐color   tones   and   heavily   modeled   forms   of   The   Potato   Eaters.   Rather   than   attempt   to   craft   portraits   of   rural   peasants   with   thick   contour   lines,   Van   Gogh   included  figures  made  with  a  couple  of  brushstrokes  within  the  context  of  a  modern                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               had  so  much  opportunity.  If  I  make  up  for  that—the  sooner  the  better—the  more  benefit  I’ll  get  from   Cormon.”   12  Letter  567.  See  also:  Letter  566.  “I  still  continue  to  urge  you  rather  to  go  ahead  with  the  Cormon   plan  and  what,  for  my  part,  I  would  so  much  like  to  precede  it—a  further  period  continuing  to  draw   plaster  casts.”  Cormon  was  an  academic  artist  who  showed  in  the  Paris  Salon,  was  the  student  of   Alexandre  Cabanel,  and  taught  his  pupils  how  to  paint  in  the  tradition  of  the  École  des  Beaux-­‐Arts.         14   city.  He  explored  the  effect  of  the  sun  on  the  leaves  and  indicated  distance  with  a   pattern  of  abstract  strokes  of  muted  hue  in  the  background.  Van  Gogh  softened  the   dark  umbers  of  The  Potato  Eaters  to  depict  the  trees  and  pavement,  which  frame   brightly  hued  figures.  In  so  doing,  he  drew  from  the  practice  he  developed  in  The   Netherlands  and  his  modernist  techniques  developed  rapidly  from  Lane  at  the  Jardin   du  Luxembourg.   Overall,  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  period  is  typically  marginalized  as  scholars  generally   focus   on   the   early   paintings   and   the   mature   imagery   the   artist   created   in   Arles,   timeframes   that   bracket   the   artist’s   practice   in   Paris. 13  Scholars   attribute   the   painter’s  shift  toward  avant-­‐garde  work  to  his  exposure  to  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐                                                                                                                 13  Adriana  R.  Salem,  “Van  Gogh  in  Paris,”  Harvard  Library  Bulletin  VI.  I  (Winter  1952):  137-­‐141.  A.L.C.   Jaffé,  “La  period  parisienne  de  Van  Gogh”  Actes  du  XIXe  congres  international  d'histoire  de  l'art  (Paris,   September   8-­‐13,   1958):   508-­‐511.   H.R.   Graetz,   “Light   Breaks   Through,”   The   Symbolic   Language   of   Vincent  Van  Gogh  (New  York,  Toronto  and  London:  McGraw-­‐Hill  Book  Company,  INC,  1963)  43-­‐66.   John  Rewald,  The  History  of  Impressionism  (New  York:  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  1973).  John  Rewald,   Post-­‐Impressionism:   From   van   Gogh   to   Gauguin,   (New   York:   The   Museum   of   Modern   Art,   1978).   Rewald’s  The  History  of   Impressionism  (1961)  and  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  Van  Gogh  to  Gauguin   (1956)  provide  short,  yet  comprehensive  studies  of  the  artist’s  Paris  life.  Van  Gogh’s  letter  writing,   which  was  usually  copious,  ceased  while  the  artist  lived  in  Paris  because  he  stayed  with  his  brother   with   whom   he   regularly   corresponded.   Rewald’s   research   is   significant   because   it   is   difficult   to   ascertain  where  the  artist  went  and  with  whom  he  kept  company  because  there  is  an  absence  of   letters   on   which   Van   Gogh   scholars   depend.   Rewald   connected   Van   Gogh   to   significant   painters,   located   the   artist’s   saturated   color   within   Charles   Henry’s   complementary   color   theory,   and   investigated   the   connections   between   Impressionism   and   Post-­‐Impressionism.   Mark   Roskill,   Van   Gogh,  Gauguin  and  the  Impressionist  Circle  (Greenwich,  Connecticut:  New  York  Graphic  Art  Society,   Ltd.,  1970).  In  Van  Gogh,  Gauguin  and  the  Impressionist  Circle  (1971),  Mark  Roskill  revisited  some  of   the  primary  texts  Rewald  used,  and  formally  examined  Van  Gogh’s  relationship  to  Néo-­‐Impressionist   painter   George   Seurat   and   to   Impressionist   Japonisme,   the   influence   of   Japanese   prints   on   the   Impressionist’s  form  and  composition.           15   Impressionist   artists.   John   Rewald   and   Bogomila   Welsh-­‐Ovcharov   point   out   the   compositional  similarities  between  Van  Gogh’s  paintings  and  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐ Impressionist  imagery  respectively.14  Cornelia  Homburg  notes  that  while  Van  Gogh   clearly  built  on  the  Impressionists,  he  was  developing  unique  painting  strategies  in   Paris.15  Warning  not  to  consider  Van  Gogh’s  periods  in  isolation,  Homburg’s  analysis   of  the  Paris-­‐period  canvases  involves  the  painter’s  artistic  developments  prior  to  and   after  Paris.  I  aim  to  further  Homburg’s  discussion  by  considering  the  distinct  pictorial   elements   Van   Gogh   developed   as   he   studied   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   modes  of  color  and  composition.  Moreover,  characterizing  his  Paris-­‐period  works  in   terms  of  Impressionism  and  Neo-­‐Impressionism  limits  the  ways  in  which  Van  Gogh’s   modernist  aesthetic  pushed  the  boundaries  of  avant-­‐garde  art  and  operated  within   the  market.     Van   Gogh   came   to   Paris   attempting   to   sustain   a   living   for   himself.   Carol   Zemel   points   out   that   Van   Gogh’s   productivity   is   intricately   linked   to   establishing   himself  as  a  professional  artist  in  the  nineteenth-­‐century  art  market.16  Van  Gogh’s   decision   to   move   from   academic   to   avant-­‐garde   art   was,   Zemel   underscores,                                                                                                                   14  John  Rewald,  “Van  Gogh  in  Paris,”  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  11-­‐72.  Bogomila   Ovcharov-­‐Welsh,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988).   15  Cornelia  Homburg,  “Introduction,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard,  ed.   Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum,  2001)  13-­‐14.   16  Carol  Zemel,  Van  Gogh’s  Progress:  Utopia,  Modernity  and  Late-­‐Nineteenth-­‐Century  Art  (Berkeley,   Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1997)  172.         16   intentional  and  strategic  to  some  extent.17  I   take  Zemel’s  perspective  as  a  central   factor  in  considering  the  decisions  that  shaped  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  practice.  The   artist’s   Paris-­‐period   has   been   generally   overlooked   in   terms   of   the   market’s   influence.  I  explore  the  concerns  that  drove  his  artistic  decision-­‐making,  and  what  he   encountered   through   two   main   venues—Goupil   &   Cie.   and   the   last   Impressionist   Exhibition—that   revealed   new   conceptually   sound   yet   salable   art.   I   find   that   the   market   system   to   which   he   was   exposed   provided   the   impetus   of   his   developing   practice.   Although   the   artist’s   religious   studies   take   a   central   role   in   the   historiography,  the  artist  dedicated  much  of  his  young-­‐adult   life—seven  years—to   working  with  prints  of  master  works  at  Goupil  &  Cie.  The  formative  experience  in  the   print   shop,   more   than   his   studies   to   become   a   preacher,   became   the   foundation   through   which   he   carefully   thought   about   how   he   would   carve   a   niche   for   his   paintings  in  the  contemporary  art  market.     The   market   in   Paris   when   Van   Gogh   arrived   was   distinct.   Avant-­‐garde   exhibitions  presented  modern  art  as  varied  approaches  as  both  Impressionist  and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   works   of   varying   genres   and   factures   hung   side-­‐by-­‐side   in   exhibitions.  Although  the  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  practices  differed  in   some  ways,  their  understanding  of  subject  matter  as  a  substructure  for  a  subjective   use  of  color  and  form  unified  their  practices.  Van  Gogh  saw  that  paintings  of  modern                                                                                                                   17  Zemel  173.           17   life  with  often-­‐disjointed  compositional  aspects  and  saturated,  highly  idiosyncratic   paint  applications  not  only  had  a  market  but  also  were  supported  in  contemporary   criticism.   Van   Gogh’s   Bridges   across   the   Seine   at   Asnières   (1887)   [figure   9],   for   example,  clearly  leads  from  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  but  begins  to   merge  the  two  modes  to  a  unique  end.  Thus,  Van  Gogh’s  exposure  to  Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism   is   not   so   easily   categorized   as   the   artist   learned   of   both   approaches  from  several  painters  who  themselves  explored  the  methods  in  differing   ways.   The   avant-­‐garde   artists   were   experimenting   with   hue,   texture,   and   subject   matter  from  everyday  life,  an  idea  espoused  by  critic  and  poet  Charles  Baudelaire,   whose  writings  influenced  the  subject  matter  and  facture  of  artists,  such  as  Édouard   Manet  and  the  Impressionists.18  Baudelaire  called  for  artists  to  paint  modern  life  and   include   aspects   of   their   contemporary   world.   Van   Gogh’s   imagery   included   fashionably   dressed   people   crossing   wide   boulevards   depicted   with   a   varied   application  of  stroke,  such  as  in  Boulevard  de  Clichy  (1887)  [figure  10].     Van   Gogh   made   two   transitions   while   working   in   Paris   that   I   will   consider   within   the   context   of   the   avant-­‐garde   market.   First,   Van   Gogh   redefined   his   pre-­‐ conceived  notions  of  marketable  academic  art.  Second,  he  drew  from  avant-­‐garde   aesthetic  objectives  that  had  found  a  market  niche.  His  painterly  techniques  grew                                                                                                                   18  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Painter  of  Modern  Life,”  The  Painter  of  Modern  Life  and  Other  Essays:   Charles  Baudelaire,   trans  and  ed.  Jonathan  Mayne  (New  York  and  London:  Phaidon  Press  Limited,   2001)  1-­‐41.         18   from  the  discourse  of  painters  who  developed  their  imagery  in  response  to  the  1886   exhibition—in  particular,  the  dialogue  generated  by  critic  Félix  Fénéon  with  the  help   of  Neo-­‐Impressionist  and  emerging  painters  Georges  Seurat,  Camille  Pissarro,  Émile   Bernard  (1868-­‐1941),  and  Paul  Signac.   In  the  capital,  Van  Gogh  experienced  early   modern   and   Impressionist   works   by   artists,   such   as   Manet,   Edgar   Degas   (1834-­‐ 1917),   Pierre-­‐Auguste   Renoir   (1841-­‐1919),   and   Claude   Monet   (1840-­‐1926).   Like   some  of  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist  painters—Pissarro,  Bernard,  and  Signac—Van  Gogh   also  headed  outdoors  and  painted  from  urban  and  suburban  life,  in  images  such  as   The  Restaurant  de  la  Sirène  at  Asnières  (Summer  1887)  [figure  11].  I  address  how   Van   Gogh’s   exposure   to   academic   and   avant-­‐garde   works   led   him   to   build   his   imagery  on  the  Impressionist  vocabulary  of  color  and  texture,  develop  a  symbolic   form  extolled  by  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  and  depict  modern  and  peasant  life  in  an   avant-­‐garde   vernacular.   In   his   Paris-­‐period   canvases,   Van   Gogh’s   vanguardism   suggests  a  shift  from  a  common  understanding,  that  of  peasant  life  for  instance,  and   toward   a   study   of   medium   and   the   compositional   structure   of   the   canvas. 19   Immersed  in  the  exhibition  practice  and  painting  strategies  of  the  Impressionists  and                                                                                                                   19  Clement  Greenberg,  “Avant-­‐Garde  and  Kitsch,”  Art  in  Theory,  1900-­‐2000:  An  Anthology  of  Changing   Ideas,   eds.   Charles   Harrison,   Paul   Wood   and   Jason   Gaiger   (Massachusetts,   Oxford   and   Victoria,   Australia:  Blackwell  Publishing,  1998)  539-­‐543.  For  Greenberg,  avant-­‐garde  artists  maintained  a  high-­‐ level  of  intellectual  exploration  within  the  structure  of  capitalism.  Avant-­‐garde  artists  searched  for  an   absolute.  “Content,”  Greenberg  wrote,  “is  to  be  dissolved  so  completely  into  form  that  the  work  of   art  or  literature  cannot  be  reduced  in  whole  or  in  part  to  anything  not  itself”  (541).  In  this  way,  “the   poet  or  artist  turns  [his  attention]  in  upon  the  medium  of  his  own  craft”  and  away  from  a  “common   experience”  (541).           19   Neo-­‐Impressionists,   Van   Gogh   became   aware   of   artists   who   critiqued   historical   precedents   and   sought   to   challenge   present-­‐day   perceptions   of   present-­‐day   culture. 20  Van   Gogh’s   canvases   do   not   provide   an   overall   characterization   of   contemporary  society  as  an  oppressive  state  or  a  utopia.   Instead,  they  convey  an   understanding  of  the  qualities  of  modern  life  through  the  painting’s  form.       Van  Gogh  in  Verlat  and  Cormon’s  Atelier   In  Antwerp,  Van  Gogh  enrolled   in  the  atelier  of  Verlat  and  transitioned  to   Cormon’s  when  he  moved  to  Paris   later  that  year.  Over  the  four  months  he  took   classes  in  the  ateliers  of  Verlat  and  Cormon,  he  conducted  figure  studies  in  drawings,   such  as  The  Discus  Thrower  (February  1886)  and  Standing  Male  and  Seated  Female   Nudes   (March-­‐May   1886)   [figures   1   &   5],   to   understand   how   to   blend   tints   and   shades  to  develop  smooth  anatomically  correct  forms.  The  proportions  of  The  Discus   Thrower  show  Van  Gogh’s  attempt  to  understand  canons  of  classical  measurements.   In   these   drawings,   it   is   clear   that   the   artist   attempted   to   conform   to   academic   compositional   skills.   Female   Standing   Nude   Seen   from   the   Side   (January-­‐February   1886)   and   Torso   of   Venus   (June   1886)   [figures   2   &   7]   both   blur   the   categorical   boundaries   between   Van   Gogh’s   early   period,   his   academic   studies,   and   his   Paris                                                                                                                   20  Greenberg   540.   Greenberg   noted   that   avant-­‐garde   culture   has   developed   from   a   “superior   consciousness  of  history—more  precisely,  the  appearance  of  a  new  kind  of  criticism  of  society,  an   historical  criticism...The  criticism  has  not  confronted  our  present  society  with  timeless  utopias,  but   has  soberly  examined  the  terms  of  history  and  of  the  cause  and  effects  of  antecedents,  justifications   and  functions  of  the  forms  that  lie  at  the  heart  of  every  society.”         20   practice.   These   drawings   suggest   his   experimentation   throughout   the   months   he   was   enrolled   in   academic   classes.   From   the   carefully   studied   hatch   marks   in   The   Discus  Thrower  to  the  round,  slightly  exaggerated  forms  in  Female  Standing  Nude   Seen  from  the  Side,  the  artist’s  drawings  of  the  winter  and  fall  of  1886  indicate  that   he   continued   to   consider   the   robust   bodies   he   included   in   his   imagery   from   The   Netherlands  as  he  studied  academic  standards.  Although  the  contour-­‐line  quality  of   Female  Nude  Standing  seems  angular,  such  as  the  lines  near  the  figure’s  shoulder   blades,  and  some  of  the  hatch  marks  of  The  Discus  Thrower  remain  unblended,  both   drawings   suggest   a   sense   of   the   figure’s   weight   and   anatomy   beneath   the   skin.   These  are  both  difficult  drawing  skills  that  help  painters  portray  a  convincing  figure   in  space.     Overall,  Van  Gogh  began  studying  academic  aims  as  he  seriously  considered   market   demands.   Van   Gogh   wanted   to   learn   from   masters   such   as   Verlat   and   Cormon.   Van   Gogh’s   understanding   of   a   traditional   artistic   career   grew   from   his   working  with  prints  of  masterworks  at  his  Uncle  Vincent  Van  Gogh’s  (Uncle  Cent’s)   successful  Hague  branch  of  Goupil  &  Cie.,  where  he  began  working  in  July  1869.21                                                                                                                   21  Chris  Stolwijk  and  Richard  Thomson,  Théo  van  Gogh,  1857-­‐1891:  Art  Dealer,  Collector  and  Brother   of  Vincent  (Zwolle:  Waanders  Publishers,  1999)  69.  Uncle  Cent  formed  his  own  art-­‐dealing  business  in   1839  in  The  Hague  and  joined  the  well-­‐established  Goupil  &  Cie  in  1846.  Van  Gogh  did  well  there,   received  a  promotion,  and,   in  June  1873,  moved  to  the  London  branch,  which  primarily  sold  print   reproductions.   See   also:   Steven   Naifeh   and   Gregory   White   Smith,   Van   Gogh:   The   Life   (New   York:   Random  House,  2011)  68.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  1  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  September   29,  1872.  In  the  first  surviving  letter  between  the  brothers,  Vincent  noted  that  he  missed  Théo  after   his  departure  from  their  visit.  See  also:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  2  to  Théo  from  The  Hague,  on  Friday         21   Goupil  &  Cie.  branches  were  primarily  print  shops,  selling  framed  reproductions  of   masterworks.   They   also   sold   original   paintings,   drawings,   and   photographs   and   generally  adapted  to  market  demands.  Van  Gogh  enjoyed  learning  about  work  by   Jean-­‐François   Millet   (1814-­‐1875),   Frans   Hals,   Israëls,   Jean-­‐Léon   Gérôme,   Jean   Baptiste  Camille  Corot,  and  Théodore  Rousseau  to  name  a  few.22  To  Théo,  Vincent   conveyed  a  sincere  excitement  regarding  the  artists’  prints  he  was  handling,  and  he   appreciated  work  from  the  Dutch  masters  to  The  Hague  School  and  from  academic   French   artists   to   Barbizon   painters.   In   1875,   Van   Gogh   moved   to   Paris,   kept   an   apartment   in   Montmartre,   and   worked   in   the   Goupil   &   Cie.   gallery   on   the   rue   Chaptal  until  1876.23  There  he  sold  the  prints  of  well-­‐known  images  by  old-­‐master   artists  such  as  Jacob  van  Ruisdael,  Rembrandt  van  Rijn,  and  the  contemporary  artist                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               December  13,  1872.  Vincent  was  working  at  Uncle  Cent’s  branch  in  The  Hague  in  1872  when  fifteen-­‐ year-­‐old  Théo  visited  his  older  brother.  Shortly  thereafter,  Théo  too  began  working  at  Goupil  &  Cie.   Brussels’s  branch  in  January  1873  and  would  go  on  to  create  a  career  that  would  lead  him  to  Paris,   where   he   became   a   successful   dealer   himself.   When   Théo   moved   to   Brussels,   he   began   corresponding  regularly  with  his  brother.21  Their  correspondence  began  as  they  both  embarked  on  a   career  at  Goupil’s,  and  they  discussed  the  art  that  they  had  seen  in  the  shop  or  in  museums.  Over  the   years,   Vincent   and   Théo   exchanged   many   ideas   about   art   and   artists,   a   subject   that   played   a   significant  role  in  their  relationship  throughout  their  young-­‐adult  lives.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  3  to   Théo  from  The  Hague  in  mid-­‐January,  1873.  “I’m  busy  now  at  the  beginning  of  the  year.  My  new  year   began  well,  I  was  given  a  monthly  rise  of  10  guilders,  so  I  now  earn  50  guilders  a  month,  and  on  top  of   that   I   received   a   50-­‐guilder   bonus.   Isn’t   that   wonderful?   I   now   hope   to   be   entirely   self-­‐ supporting.    I’m  really  very  happy  that  you’re  also  part  of  this  firm.  It’s  such  a  fine  firm,  the  longer  one   is  part  of  it  the  more  enthusiastic  one  becomes.”   22  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  17  to  Théo  from  London  sometime  in  the  beginning  of  January  1884.     23  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  37  to  Théo  from  Paris  on  Tuesday,  July  6,  1875.  Naifeh  and  Smith  103.  See   also:  letter  75,  which  Van  Gogh  wrote  from  Ramsgate  on  Monday,  April  17,  1876.  For  reasons  that   are  not  clear,  Van  Gogh  left  Paris  to  work  at  a  boarding  school  for  boys  in  England  in  April  1876.         22   Corot,  among  others.  During  his  first  stay  in  Paris,  he  sought  out  well-­‐known  painters   and  masterworks,  though  he  did  not  then  learn  of  the  Impressionists  who  had  begun   exhibiting  in  1874.  Instead,  he  visited  the  Louvre,  where  he  studied  the  paintings  of   the  prints  he  sold  by  Corot,  Ruisdael,  Jules  Breton,  and  Rembrandt.24      After   leaving   Goupil   &   Cie.   in   1876,   Van   Gogh   moved   frequently   and   eventually  focused  on  becoming  a  preacher,   like  his  father,  but  that  was  a  short-­‐ lived  endeavor  that  ended  among  unknown  circumstances.25  By  1880,  he  decided  to   embark   on   a   professional   career   as   a   painter.26  To   begin,   Van   Gogh   drew   and   painted  from  masters  he  had  encountered  at  Goupil  &  Cie.,  such  as  Millet,  in  The   Sower  (After  Millet)  (1881)  and  Peasant  Women  Digging  up  Potatoes  (August  1885)                                                                                                                   24  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  34  to  Théo  from  Paris  on  May  31st,  1875.     25  After  Vincent  decided  he  wanted  to  dedicate  himself  to  painting,  he  wrote  to  Théo  in  the  summer   of  1880,  equating  painting  with  the  Gospel  and  hoping  to  find  purpose  through  his  new  endeavors.   Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  155  to  Théo  from  Cuesmes,  Belgium  sometime  between  Tuesday,  June  22nd   and  Thursday,  June  24th  1880.  Initially,  he  wrote  to  thank  his  brother  for  the  fifty  francs  Théo  sent  as   he  would  countless  times  in  the  years  to  come.  Van  Gogh  asked  for  forgiveness  as  he  had  caused  his   family  much  distress  because  his  relationship  to  the  congregation  to  which  he  was  matched  broke;   the  terms  of  which  are  uncertain.  “…and  then  there’s  something  of  Rembrandt  in  the  Gospels  or  of   the   Gospels   in   Rembrandt,   as   you   wish,   it   comes   to   more   or   less   the   same,   provided   that   one   understands  it  rightly,  without  trying  to  twist  it  in  the  wrong  direction,  and  if  one  bears  in  mind  the   equivalents  of  the  comparisons,  which  make  no  claim  to  diminish  the  merits  of  the  original  figures.”     26  From  this  point  on,  Théo  became  a  financial  and  emotional  partner  in  Vincent’s  artistic  goals.  By   the  end  of  the  summer,  the  letters  between  the  brothers  took  on  the  enriching  and  practical  nature   they  would  have  for  the  rest  of  Vincent’s  life:  an  in-­‐depth  discussion  about  art  and  the  exchange  of   supplies  and  money.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  156  to  Théo  from  Cuesmes  on  Friday,  August  20,  1880.   “I’m  writing  to  you  while  drawing,  and  I’m  in  a  hurry  to  get  back  to  it,  so  good-­‐night,  and  send  the   sheets   as   soon   as   possible,   and   believe   me.”   Although   Vincent   depended   on   Théo   financially,   the   prospect  of  being  tied  to  his  brother  indefinitely  caused  a  good  deal  of  stress.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter   422  from  Nuenen  around  January  15,  1884.  “I’d  have  qualms  about  continuing  on  the  same  footing.”   See  also:  letter  420,  which  Van  Gogh  from  Nuenen  between  January  6  and  13,  1884.         23   [figures   12-­‐14].27  The   limbs   of   Peasant   Women   Digging   for   Potatoes   reflect   the   round,  plump  body  of  the  type  of  the  woman  in  Female  Nude  Standing,  indicating   the  influence  the  earlier  works  had  on  his  transitional  academic  period.    Although   Van   Gogh   probably   drew   Female   Nude   Standing   after   leaving   the   Academy,   the   artist   modeled   the   figure   with   contour   lines   to   depict   well-­‐built   hips   and   arm   muscles,  an  example  of  the  confluence  of  his  peasant  figures  and  cast  models.28   In  The  Netherlands  and  Belgium,  Van  Gogh  studied  many  painters,  but  the   Romantic   painter   Eugène   Delacroix   (1798-­‐1863)   was   perhaps   an   artist   to   whose   career  he  aspired,  both  aesthetically  and  in  terms  of  a  marketable  presence.  To  Van   Gogh,  Delacroix  was  a  model  artist—he  had  attended  the  studio  of  Pierre-­‐Narcisse   Guérin,  enjoyed  a  successful  Salon  career,  and  had  been  a  celebrated  French  artist.29   As  a  practicing  artist,  Van  Gogh  wrote  of  Delacroix  often  and  in  1889  copied  images   of  Delacroix’s  for  inspiration  [figures  15].30    Among  other  French  masters,  Van  Gogh                                                                                                                   27  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter  166  to  Théo  from  Etten  around  Sunday,  April  30,  1881.  “Meanwhile   I’ve   started  on  the  Millet’s,  The  sower  is  finished  and  the  4  times  of  the  day  sketched.  And  now  still  to   come  are  the  laborers  of  the  field.”  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  515  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  July  14,   1885.  Van  Gogh  wrote:  “The  figure  of  the  peasant  and  the  workman  started  more  as  a  ‘genre’—but   nowadays,  with  Millet   in  the  van  as  the  eternal  master,   it’s  the  very  heart  of  modern  art  and  will   remain  so.”  See  also:  Toos  Van  Kooten  and  Mieke  Rijnders,  eds.  The  Paintings  of  Vincent  Van  Gogh  in   the  Collection  of  the  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum  (Otterlo,  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  2003)  117.   28  Marije  Vellekoop,  ed.  Van  Gogh  at  Work  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  2013)  103.       29  On   Delacroix’s   critical   reception,   see:   Andrew   Carrington   Shelton,   “Ingres   versus   Delacroix,”   Art   History  23.5  (December,  2000):  726-­‐742.   30  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  515  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  July  14,  1885.           24   considered  Delacroix  modern  and  he  studied  passages  from  former  director  of  the   École  des  Beaux-­‐Arts  Charles  Blanc’s  essay  on  Delacroix  in  Les  artistes  de  mon  temps   (1876).31  While   Van   Gogh   was   in   the   midst   of   working   on   The   Potato   Eaters,   he   thought  of  Delacroix’s  use  of  color  and  how  the  master  painter  encouraged  artists  to   paint  from  memory.32  For  The  Potato  Eaters,  Van  Gogh  made  many  life  studies  and   ended  up  painting  the  final  work  “largely  from  memory.”33  To  move  in  the  direction                                                                                                                   31  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  290  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  November  5,  1882.  “Think  further   back,  I  say,  Leys,  Gavarni,  Degroux  (to  name  just  a  few),  or  still  further,  Ingres,  Delacroix,  Géricault,   think  how  old   it  already  is,  modern  art.  Add  to  them  many  who  are  aged.”  On  Charles  Blanc,  Van   Gogh  wrote   letter  449  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Friday,  June  6,  1884.   In  Blanc’s  passage,  the   author   discussed   Delacroix’s   use   of   color,   noting   that   he   did   not   use   local   color   (the   color   that   describes  the  subject  in  white  light).  Van  Gogh  was  interested  in  Blanc’s  ideas  on  hue  and  also  read   his  Grammaire  des  arts  (1867).  See  also:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  545  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  late   August  or  early  September  1884.  “I’ve  been  given  a  magnificent  book,  J.F.  Millet  by  Sensier,  and  I   myself  bought  a  book  by  Blanc,  Grammaire  des  arts  du  dessin,  because  of  a  passage  from  it  quoted  in   Artistes  de  mon  temps.  This  book  deals  with  something  like  the  same  questions  as  the  little  book  by   Vosmaer,  but  for  my  part  I  would  much  rather  read  Blanc.  You  can  read  Blanc’s  book  and  the  Millet   too,   if  you   like.”  On  Delacroix,  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter  461  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Monday,   September  22nd  or  Sunday,  September  28th,  1884.  Vincent  was  acquainted  with  Delacroix’s  paintings,   such  as  Liberty  Leading  the  People  (1830),  which  he  encouraged  Théo  to  visit  during  an  exhibition.   “You   say   there’s   soon   to   be   an   exhibition   of   Delacroix’s   work.   Very   well—you’ll   certainly   see   a   painting  there,  The  barricade,  that  I  only  know  from  biographies  of  Delacroix.  I  think  it  was  painted  in   1848.”   A   fellow   peer   in   Cormon’s   class   noted   how   Van   Gogh   felt   about   Delacroix:  François  Gauzi,   “Vincent  van  Gogh  (1886-­‐1887)”quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  33.  “Delacroix,”   Gauzi  recalled,  “was  [Van  Gogh’s]  God,  and  whenever  he  spoke  of  this  painter  his  lips  trembled  with   emotion.”  See  also:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  575  to  Bernard  from  Paris  in  December  1887.  In  Paris,  Van   Gogh  also  shared  an  essay  about  Delacroix’s  work  with  his  new  friend  Bernard.   32  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  496  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Tuesday,  April  28,  1885.  “It’s  the  second   time  that  I’ve  derived  a  great  deal  from  something  Delacroix  said.  The  first  was  his  theory  of  color,   but  I  also  read  a  conversation  that  he  had  with  other  painters  about  the  making,  that  is  the  creation,   of  a  painting.  He  asserted  that  one  made  the  best  paintings—from  memory.  By  heart!  he  said.  And  I   read  of  the  conversation  in  question  that  when  all  those  good  people  were  going  home  late  in  the   evening—Delacroix,  with  his  usual  vivacity  and  passion—  shouted  out  after  them  in  the  middle  of  the   boulevard,  By  heart!  by  heart!,  probably  to  the  great  surprise  of  respectable  passers-­‐by.”   33  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  497  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  on  April  30,  1885.         25   of  the  painters  he  encountered  at  Goupil  &  Cie.,  he  did  not  want  to  stay  in  rural   Nuenen.  There,  “one  must  paint  the  peasants  as  if  one  were  one  of  them,”  so  he   decided  to  establish  connections  in  a  city  with  an  art  market,  either  “in  Antwerp  or   later  in  Paris.”34     After  a  few  weeks  in  Antwerp,  Van  Gogh  made  a  cityscape  painting.  Although   the  painting   is  unknown,  a  drawing  survives:  View  of  Het  Steen  (December  1885)   [figure  16].  The  artist  showed  View  of  Het  Steen  to  dealers  to  see  if  he  could  sell  it,   but  he  had  no  success.35  In  the  drawing,  Van  Gogh  quickly  sketched  the  castle  of   Antwerp,   a   landscape   depicting   an   older   vestige   of   the   city.   Van   Gogh   drew   the   castle  in  two-­‐point  perspective  allowing  it  to  dominate  the  middle-­‐ground  and  rise   up  from  a  small  hill.  The  artist  populated  the  foreground  with  figures  in  silhouette,   some   of   whom   have   brightly   colored   garments.   When   he   shopped   the   painting   around,   he   became   discouraged   that   the   dealers   did   not   want   his   work   and   had                                                                                                                   34  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  543  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  on  November  20,  1885.  “You’ll  understand  why   I’m  leaving  next  Tuesday  when  you  realize  firstly  that  I’m  really  longing  to  go—secondly  that  I’m  in   danger   of   becoming   stuck   with   my   work   here   for   want   of   models,   while   working   outdoors   has   stopped  because  of  the  cold.”  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  552  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  between  the  12th   and  16th  of  January  1886.  “So  just  let  me  scratch  around,  and  for  heaven’s  sake  don’t  lose  heart  or   weaken.   I   don’t   think   that   you   can   reasonably   ask   me   to   go   back   to   the   country   for   the   sake   of   perhaps  50  francs  a  month  less,  when  the  whole  stretch  of  years  ahead  is  so  closely  related  to  the   associations  I  have  to  establish  in  town,  either  here  in  Antwerp  or  later  in  Paris.”   35  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  548  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  December  17  1885.  “Today,  for  the  first  time,   I  feel  rather  dejected—I’d  made  a  painting  of  Het  Steen  and  took  it  round  the  dealers.  Two  of  them   were  out,  and  one  didn’t  like  it,  and  one  lamented  in  a  dreadful  manner  that  literally  no  one  had  set   foot  in  his  shop  in  a  fortnight.  This  isn’t  very  cheering,  particularly  when  the  weather’s  cold  and  bleak,   and  one  has  already  broken  into  one’s  last  5  franc  piece  and  is  faced  with  a  fortnight  in  which  one   sees  no  way  ahead.”         26   heard   that   “heads   and   figures   of   women   were   most   likely   to   sell.”36  He   aimed   to   paint  figures  because  the  market  was  saturated  with  landscapes.  In  some  ways,  Van   Gogh’s   View   of   Het   Steen   resembles   Lane   at   the   Jardin   du   Luxembourg.   In   both   images,   small-­‐scale   brightly   hued   figures   occupy   a   contemporary   landscape.   Sketched  quickly  with  the  artist’s  implement,  the  figures  veer  away  from  those  he   was  studying  in  his  classes  and  suggest  that  he  maintained  an  interest  in  descriptive   landscape  imagery  and  moved  toward  a  contemporary  depiction  of  figures.     Through  his  work  at  Goupil  &  Cie.  and  interest  in  Delacroix,  Van  Gogh’s  ideas   about   the   art   market   and   figure   painting   grew   in   some   ways   from   the   French   government-­‐sponsored  Salon  structure.  In  order  to  have  a  good  chance  at  gaining   entry   into   the   juried   Salon   exhibition,   many   young   artists   attended   the   training   offered  at  the  École  des  Beaux-­‐Arts  where  artists  first  drew,  then  attempted  to  paint   from  a  plaster  cast  and  finally  from  a  model.37  This  practice  was  in  contrast  to  Van   Gogh’s  work  painting  peasants  outdoors,  modeling  them  with  robust  forms  bulging   beneath  layers  of  cloth  as  he  did  in  Nuenen.  In  Antwerp,  Van  Gogh  wanted  to  paint   from  a  model,  so  he  visited  the  Antwerp  Academy  and  Verlat’s  studio.  After  several   failed   attempts   to   meet   Van   Gogh,   Verlat   eventually   saw   the   painter’s   work.   The                                                                                                                   36  Letter  548.   37  Harrison  C.  White  and  Cynthia  A.  White,  Canvases  and  Careers:  Institutional  Change  in  the  French   Painting  Word  (Chicago  and  London:  The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1965,  1993)  19.         27   teacher  was  uninterested  in  Van  Gogh’s  landscapes.  38    When  he  saw  the  painter’s   portraits,  though—probably  Portrait  of  an  Old  Man  (December  1885)  [figure  17]— he  allowed  Van  Gogh  entry.  In  the  portrait,  Van  Gogh  found  a  balance  between  the   anatomy   of   the   head’s   features   and   the   application   of   stroke.   The   shades   and   highlights  convey  a  sense  of  musculature  and  also  capture  the  figure’s  forlorn  gaze.   Thick   paint   strokes   similar   to   those   Van   Gogh   developed   more   distinctly   in   Paris   appear,  helping  to  shape  the  anatomy  of  the  facial  features  and  indicate  a  change  in   texture.  The  figure’s  beard,  for  example,  consists  of  unblended  strokes  in  hues  that   relate   to   skin   tone   and   to   the   graying   beard,   unifying   the   elements   of   the   facial   features.         A  fellow  pupil  of  Van  Gogh’s  at  the  Academy,  Victor  Hageman,  recalled  that   he   painted   rapidly   and   layered   paint   thickly,     “so   heavily   that   his   colors   literally   dripped  from  the  canvas  onto  the  floor.”39  Although  only  The  Discus  Thrower  and  a   painting  of  wrestlers  (which  the  artist   later  painted  over)  survive  from  the  artist’s   time  in  the  Academy,  Van  Gogh  painted  Head  of  a  Skeleton  with  a  Burning  Cigarette                                                                                                                   38  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  553  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  January  20,  1886.  “Wanted  to  tell  you  that   Verlat  has  seen  my  work  at  last,  and  when  he  saw  the  two  landscapes  and  the  still  life  that  I  brought   with  me  from  the  country,  he  said—‘yes,  but  that  doesn’t  concern  me’—when  I  showed  him  the  two   portraits,  he  said—‘that’s  different,  if  it’s  the  figure  you  can  come.’  So  I’m  going  to  begin  tomorrow   by  starting  work  in  the  painting  class  at  the  academy.”  Van  Gogh  began  his  studies  on  January  21st   and  worked  there  throughout  February.  See  also:   letter  565,  which  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Théo  from   Antwerp  on  February  22,  1886.     39  Victor   Hageman,   “Vincent   in   Antwerp   (1886),”   Van   Gogh   in   Perspective,   ed.   Bogomila   Welsh-­‐ Ovcharov  (Englewood  Cliffs,  New  Jersey:  Prentice-­‐Hall,  Inc.  1974)  27.           28   (January-­‐February   1886)   [figure   18]   during   the   month   he   studied   at   the   atelier.40   Van   Gogh’s   brushwork,   unlike   that   of   Verlat,   provides   a   texture   for   the   form.   In   Verlat’s   Ariadne   et   amor   (1880)   [figure   19],   smooth   strokes   of   gradient   tint   and   shade  form  mass  and  volume.  In  contrast,  Van  Gogh’s  wide  marks  appear  to  have   been   applied   with   a   brush   loaded   with   paint   and   give   form   to   the   bones   with   unblended  highlights.  When  Verlat  came  around  to  critique  Van  Gogh’s  work,  the   master  quipped:  “I’ll  not  correct  these  dogs.”41  This,  according  to  Hageman,  angered   Van  Gogh  who  worked  “eagerly”  and  attempted  to  grasp  the  lessons  at  hand.     Van  Gogh  also  studied  drawing  under  Eugène  Siberdt,  a  painter  who  used  a   palette  of  color  that  describes  the  figures  and  landscape  accurately  and  with  a  tight,   controlled  brushstroke  [figure  20].  Van  Gogh’s  The  Discus  Thrower  exemplifies  the   lessons  Van  Gogh  attempted  in  Siberdt’s  class.  Siberdt  taught  students  to  depend  on   the  outline  of  the  figure’s  form.42  Once  a  student  crafted  the  contour  lines,  he  could   begin  to  use  shade  to  develop  volume.  For  The  Discus  Thrower,  Van  Gogh  drew  a   thick,   solid   chalk   line   around   the   figure’s   torso,   and   he   used   well-­‐blended   hatch   marks   to   define   the   musculature   of   the   upper   back,   arms,   and   legs.   Hageman   recalled  that  when  given  an  assignment  to  draw  a  plaster  cast  of  the  Venus  de  Milo,                                                                                                                   40  Vellekoop  101.   41  Karel  Verlat  quoted  in  Hagemen,  “Vincent  in  Antwerp  (1886)”  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van   Gogh  in  Perspective  27.   42  Vellekoop  101.           29   Van  Gogh  enlarged  her  hips,  making  them  the  rotund  forms  in  his  Nuenen  imagery   and   perhaps   similar   to   those   he   depicted   in   Female   Nude   Standing.   According   to   Hageman,   upon   seeing   Van   Gogh’s   drawing   of   Venus   with   its   “deformations,”   Siberdt  ripped  up  Van  Gogh’s  study  and  explained  the  “canons  of  design,”  on  which   Venus’s  proportions  could  serve  as  instruction.43  At  this,  Van  Gogh  “flew  into  a  rage”   and  yelled:  “It’s  obvious  you  don’t  know  what  a  young  woman  is   like,  damn  it!  A   woman  must  have  hips,  buttocks  and  a  pelvis  in  which  she  can  carry  a  child!”44  In   Hageman’s  estimation,  Van  Gogh  was  more  inclined  to  consider  the  life  of  the  form,   rather   than   its   classical   measurements.   Van   Gogh’s   inclination   to   subordinate   anatomical  correctness  to  use  a  figure’s  build  to  convey  a  sense  of  identity,  relates   to   the   contemporary   figures   Van   Gogh   included   in   Jardin   du   Luxembourg.   The   modern  silhouette  of  women’s  and  men’s  fashion—bustles  and  top  hats—does  not   indicate  the  figure’s  form,  but  suggests  their  upper-­‐class  status.  Similarly,  Van  Gogh   also  rendered  the  foliage  flatly  and  privileged  the  use  of  paint  medium  rather  than  a   sense   of   depth.   The   abstract   marks   on   the   left   of   Jardin   du   Luxembourg   do   not   create  a  depth  within  the  structure  of  a  tree  and  its  branches,  but  remain  on  the   surface  of  the  canvas.                                                                                                                     43  Hagemen,  “Vincent  in  Antwerp  (1886)”  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  28.   44  Hagemen   and   Vincent   van   Gogh,   “Vincent   in   Antwerp   (1886)”   quoted   in   Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,   Van   Gogh  in  Perspective  28.           30   Van  Gogh  considered  the  lessons  in  the  Antwerp  Academy  not  only  as  a  way   to  change  the  direction  of  his  approach,  but  also  to  become  ready  for  the  Parisian   atelier.45  Shortly   after   arriving   in   Paris,   he   attended   Cormon’s   atelier   from   March   through   the   first   week   of   June.  46  Anecdotes   from   Van   Gogh’s   peers   from   letters,   essays,  and  interviews,  give  the  sense  that  Cormon  was  not  interested  in  painters   who  thought  independently,  and  he  wanted  his  students  to  focus  on  painting  the   plaster   casts   as   Van   Gogh   was   doing   in   Torso   of   Venus   (June   1886)   [figure   7].   “Cormon  demanded,”  classmate  François  Gauzi  recalled,  “that  they  limit  themselves   to  studying  from  the  model,  which  is  to  say  that  they  copy  strictly  what  they  had   before  their  eyes,  without  changing  anything.”47  Bernard,  who  attended  Cormon’s   atelier  from  1884  until  April  1886  where  he  crossed  paths  with  Van  Gogh,  angered   the  master  by  using  saturated  color.  Student  A.S.  Hartrick  recalled  that  Bernard  was   painting  a  brown  sail  that  hung  behind  a  model  with  “alternate  streaks  of  vermilion                                                                                                                   45  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  555  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  January  28,  1886.  Van  Gogh  wrote:  “…  just  to   be   admitted   anywhere   in   Paris   one   has   to   have   been   somewhere   else   and   have   lost   one’s   rough   edges,  and  one  always  has  to  contend  with  fellows  who’ve  already  worked  at  an  academy  for  some   length  of  time.”    Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  565  to  Théo  from  Antwerp  on  February  22,  1886.  Van  Gogh   felt  that  he  “derived  benefit  from  coming  to  Antwerp,”  so  he  wanted  “to  go  straight  on”  to  Paris.       46  Louis   van   Tilborgh,   “Van   Gogh   in   Cormon’s   Studio:   A   Chronological   Puzzle,”   Current   Issues   in   Nineteenth-­‐Century  Art  (2007):  52-­‐71.  See  also:  letter  569,  note  14.       47  Gauzi  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  33.         31   and  vert  veronese,”  two  saturated  green  hues.48      Bernard  “saw  [the  sail]  that  way,”   and  Cormon  expelled  young  Bernard  for  his  painting  practice.  49     Like  Verlat  and  Siberdt,  Cormon  taught  students  to  draw  figures  with  contour   line   and   shade   thereafter,   a   process   evident   in   Van   Gogh’s   Standing   Male   and   Seated  Female  Nudes  and  Studies  of  a  Seated  Girl  (March-­‐May  1886)  [figures  5  &   6].50  Cormon   required   mimetic   description   of   the   casts   and   models   and   did   not   tolerate   deviation,   and   “students   followed   rigidly   this   advice”;   like   Bernard,   Van   Gogh  sometimes  “ignored   it.”51  Van  Gogh,  who  worked  with  a  “fury…even  during   rest  period,”  experimented  with  color  as  well  as  texture  while  in  Cormon’s  studio  as   he  had  in  Verlat’s.52  Cormon  met  Van  Gogh’s  work  with  a  characteristic  silence  and   kept  his  comments  to  the  structure  of  the  drawing  rather  than  Van  Gogh’s  use  of   color.  Gauzi  remembered  that  Van  Gogh  painted  blue  drapery  hanging  behind  the   model  with  a  “blue  of  an  unexpected  intensity,”  which  Van  Gogh  “juxtaposed  with                                                                                                                   48  A.S.  Hartick,  “Vincent  van  Gogh  (1886-­‐1887)”  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective   30.     49  Mary   Ann   Stevens,   ed.   Emile   Bernard,   1868-­‐1941:   A   Pioneer   of   Modern   Art   (Waanders   Verlag,   Zwolle:  Wanders  Publishers,  1990)  95.  Bernard  left  for  Brittany  in  early  April,  where  he  stayed  until   sometime  around  October,  when  he  and  Van  Gogh  connected.   50  Vellekoop  107.     51  Gauzi  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  33.   52  Gauzi  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  34.         32   the  golden  yellow  of  the  woman’s  skin…[and]  unmodified  violet  tones  which  were   mutually  intensifying.”53     Only   one   of   Van   Gogh’s   painted   studies   from   Cormon’s   remains,   but   the   artist  created  Torso  of  Venus  around  the  time  he  attended  the  atelier.54  In  Torso  of   Venus,  Van  Gogh  used  a  Prussian  blue  as  the  backdrop.  The  painter  left  large  swaths   of  brushstrokes  semi-­‐blended  and  seems  to  have  mixed  the  darker  hues  with  lighter   values  directly  on  the  panel.  Rather  than  cascade  softly  against  the  cast’s  white  skin,   the  strokes  extend  from  the  model,  forming  a  rudimentary  outline.  The  painter  used   Naples   yellow   as   a   highlight   on   the   round   forms   of   the   torso,   and,   rather   than   continue  with  local  color,  he  drew  short  Prussian  blue  marks  from  the  background  to   express   the   figure’s   shadow.   Van   Gogh   modeled   the   classical   form   with   brushstrokes,  a  process  in  contrast  to  giving  volume  to  form  through  layers  of  thinly   applied   tint   and   shade.   Van   Gogh   would   have   been   expected   to   understand   the   latter  approach,  smoothing  out  his  marks  and  indicating  the  round  quality  of  hips   with  the  gradual  interplay  of  shade  and  highlight.  Instead,  Van  Gogh  thickly  applied   paint.  Torso  of  Venus,  painted  at  the  time  he  decided  to  leave  the  atelier,  indicates   that  although  he  attempted  to  use  a  limited  palette  and  model  with  tints  and  shades                                                                                                                   53  Gauzi  quoted  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  34.   54  Vellekoop  107.  Nude  girl,  seated  (1886)  survives.           33   and   paint   classical   forms,   he   did   not   entirely   adjust   his   practice   to   an   academic   technique.     Portrait  of  an  Old  Man,  Head  of  a  Skeleton,  and  Torso  of  Venus  represent   images   that   lead   from   Van   Gogh’s   atelier   training   but   clearly   move   toward   the   expressive   brushwork   and   inventive   use   of   hue   and   texture   the   artist   created   in   Paris.  While  he  began  to  dedicate  himself  to  the  academic  model,  he  remained  open   to  artistic  influences  and  modes  of  image  making  that  informed  the  forward-­‐thinking   images   he   generated   shortly   thereafter.   When   Van   Gogh   definitively   shifted   his   perspective  regarding  the  merits  of  the  atelier  structure  and  the  criteria  of  figure   painting—depth,  perspective,  proportion,  muscular  definition,  and  smooth  gradual   color  shifts—he  had  already  begun  to  consider  the  role  of  the  impasto  brush  mark  in   depicting  form.     When  Van  Gogh  left  the  atelier,  he  wrote  to  painter  Horace  Mann  Livens:   I  have  been  in  Cormon’s  studio  for  three  or  four  months  but  did   not  find  that  as  useful  as  I  had  expected  it  to  be.  It  may  be  my   fault  however,  [sic]  any  how  I  left  there  too  as  I  left  Antwerp  and   since   I   worked   alone,   and   fancy   that   since   I   feel   my   own   self   more.                   Trade  is  slow  here,  the  great  dealers  sell  Millet,  Delacroix,  Corot,   Daubigny,  Dupré,  a  few  other  masters  at  exorbitant  prices.  They   do  little  or  nothing  for  young  artists.55                                                                                                                     55  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  569  to  Horace  Mann  Livens  from  Paris  during  September  or  October  1886.           34   The  atelier  lessons  supported  an  idealized  form  that  could  occupy  the  central  plane   of  a  canvas,  but  Van  Gogh  sought  out  emerging  artists  who  constructed  imagery  that   was  akin  to  the  experimental  aspects  of  his  paintings,  such  as  the  beard’s  energetic   brushwork  in  Portrait  of  an  Old  Man.  Painting  formulaically  no  longer  interested  Van   Gogh.  When  he  embarked  on  a  painting  practice  that  allowed  him  to  transform  the   modern  world  in  which  his  lived,  he  wrote  to  Bernard:  “one  finds  oneself  obliged  to   learn  to  live,  as  one  does  to  paint,  without  resorting  to  the  old  tricks  and  trompe   l’oeil  of  schemers.”56     At   this   point,   he   took   his   lessons   from   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionists   whose   imagery   he   could   observe   in   independent   exhibitions,   work   that   had   become   increasingly   accessible   and   experimental   by   1886.   The   Impressionists  circumvented  the  hierarchical  organization  of  the  École  and  Salon  and   mounted  their  own  exhibitions,  creating  new  avenues  by  which  artists  could  make  a   living,  and  made  landscapes  one  of  their  foci.  57  For  the  Impressionists,  the  École  and   atelier   training   were   supposed   to   legitimize   their   rise   through   the   Salon’s                                                                                                                   56  Letter  575.   57  Jane  Mayo  Roos,  Early  Impressionism  and  the  French  State  1866-­‐1874  (Cambridge  and  New  York:   Cambridge   University   Press,   1996)   204.   The   Impressionist   exhibitions   were,   in   some   respects,   opposed  to  the  Salon  model,  a  system  Paul  Cézanne  petitioned  against  throughout  the  1860s,  arguing   for  a  different  juried  body.         35   hierarchy.58  Instead,   academic   training   represented   the   ideals   against   which   their   work   and   their   co-­‐operative   gallery   experience   railed.   When   Van   Gogh   began   to   explore  the  avant-­‐garde  works,  his  attitude  toward  marketable  art  and  his  purpose   changed.   “In   one   word,   with   much   energy,”   Van   Gogh   wrote   to   Livens,   “with   a   sincere   personal   feeling   of   color   in   nature   I   would   say   an   artist   can   get   on   here   notwithstanding  the  many  obstructions.  And  I  intend  remaining  here  still  longer.”59   Van   Gogh   had   become   immersed   in   “seeking”   color   “oppositions”   to   “harmonize   brutal  extremes,”  a  perspective  he  attributed  to  the  Impressionists  whom  he  had   not  known  before  living  in  Paris.60     Contemporary   in   mark-­‐making,   color   use,   and   subject   matter,   Jardin   du   Luxembourg   [figure   8]   is   an   early   example   of   Van   Gogh’s   familiarity   with   the   Impressionist  approach.  Bright  crimson  parasols  and  distant  red  forms  seem  to  make   an  implied  line  across  the  mid-­‐plane  of  the  canvas,  juxtaposing  the  several  hues  of                                                                                                                   58  White  and  White  114  and  table  12.  Nearly  all  the  Impressionists,  except  for  Cézanne,  had  either   attended  the  École  or  spent  time  training  in  the  atelier  of  an  academic  painter.  Although  the  first   Impressionist  exhibition  was  held  in  1874,  the  artists  also  contributed  to  the  Salon.  Early  modern  and   Impressionist   painters—Manet,   Degas,   Pissarro,   Cézanne,   Renoir   and   Alfred   Sisley—had   all   been   accepted  to  the  Salon,  showing  in  the  state-­‐run  exhibitions  throughout  the  1870s.  Manet  and  Renoir   exhibited  at  the  Salon  into  the  early  1880s,  and  Cézanne  continued  to  submit  work  until  1886,  but   was  consistently  rejected.  Pissarro,  Degas  and  Monet  began  to  show  solely  in  group  exhibitions  in  the   1880s.   Their   independent   shows   brought   about   a   change   in   the   gallery   system   whereby   dealers   sought  out  new  artists  and  were  able  to  market  their  works  to  respective  buyers.   59  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  569  to  Horace  Mann  Livens  from  Paris  in  September  or  October  1886.   60  Letter  569.  “In  Antwerp  I  did  not  even  know  what  the  Impressionists  were,  now  I  have  seen  them   and   though   not   being   one   of   the   club,   yet   I   have   much   admired   certain   Impressionist   pictures— Degas,  nude  figure–Claude  Monet,  landscape.”         36   green  in  the  foliage  and  creating  the  opposition  that  interested  Van  Gogh.  Although   the  family  members  in  The  Potato  Eaters  were  contemporaries  of  Van  Gogh’s,  they   were  rural,  and  the  painted  surface  crafted  with  relatively  smooth  marks.  In  Jardin   du   Luxembourg,   he   depicted   a   modern   city   and   drew   silhouetted   figures   with   a   sense  of  weight  and  solid  use  of  contour  line  he  honed  in  the  atelier.  The  brushwork   in   the   trees   and   the   unblended   greens,   ochres,   and   Naples   yellow   relate   to   the   texture   the   artist   developed   in   the   Portrait   of   an   Old   Man   around   the   figure’s   temples,  or  the  shadows  in  Torso  of  Venus  that  form  the  figure’s  lower  abdomen.   The  academic  paintings  show  his  first  attempts  at  gestural  mark-­‐making  against  the   lessons  of  his  instructors.  Conversely,  for  Jardin  du  Luxembourg,  he  drew  from  some   of   his   more   inventive   academic   work   to   create   one   of   his   earliest   paintings   of   modern  life,  leaving  an  overlap  in  technique  between  his  academic  studies  and  first   experiences  with  avant-­‐garde  painting.       Théo  at  Goupil’s   Upon  his  arrival,  Van  Gogh  considered  his  entry  into  the  art  market  through   the  conventional  channels  of  academic  painting.  Perhaps  one  of  the  most  important   lessons  in  gaining  a  place  in  the  market  came  from  Théo,  who  was  in  a  managerial   position  at  Goupil  &  Cie.  to  work  with  the  Impressionist  painters.  At  the  time,  Goupil         37   &  Cie.  was  one  of  the  top  firms  in  Europe  and  had  international  branches.61  Richard   Thomson  points  out  that  Théo’s  work  with  the  Impressionist  painters  should  not  be   mythologized,  and  that  the  dealer  cannot  be  considered  a  champion  of  the  avant-­‐ garde   painters.62  Nonetheless,   Thomson’s   scholarship   positions   Théo   as   a   dealer   with  access  to  their  works.  Although  dealers  on  the  forefront,  such  as  Durand-­‐Ruel,   had  begun  selling  Impressionist  paintings  the  previous  decade,  Théo  was  in  business   with  the  painters  as  early  as  1885.     Théo  exposed  Vincent  to  the  new  modes  of  painting  during  a  time  when  the   dealer  was  seeking  to  forge  business  alliances  with  the  Impressionists,  an  aspect  of   the  developing  market  Vincent  saw  firsthand.  Théo  developed  a  relationship  with   the  avant-­‐garde  painters  shortly  before  Vincent’s  move.  The  dealer’s  work  at  Goupil   &  Cie.  gave  Vincent  access  to  the  Impressionist  works,  which  enabled  the  artist  to   reconsider   the   role   of   the   figure   in   contemporary   canvases   and   the   use   of   compositional   tools   to   challenge   traditional   ideals   of   depth   and   perspective.   Although   scholars   acknowledge   Théo’s   dealings   with   the   Impressionists   as   an   influence  on  Vincent’s  shift,  the  unique  painterly  strategies  the  painter  developed  in                                                                                                                   61  John   Rewald,   “Théo   van   Gogh,   Goupil   and   the   Impressionists,”   Gazette   des   Beaux-­‐Arts   LXXXI   (January-­‐February  1973):  2.  Léon  Boussod,  Théo’s  employer,  joined  the  company  with  a  controlling   share  equal  to  Uncle  Cent’s  in  1856.  See:  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  69.  Goupil  &  Cie.  had  branches  in   London,  Brussels,  The  Hague,  Paris,  New  York  and  Berlin.   62  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  123.           38   connection  with  the  work  Théo  handled  have  generally  been  overlooked.63  Although   Van  Gogh  came  into  contact  with  Bernard  and  Henri  Toulouse-­‐Lautrec  at  Cormon’s   atelier,  Théo’s  connections  to  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists  had  a  long-­‐ term  impact  on  Van  Gogh’s  painting  lessons  in  Paris  and  thereafter.  In  the  month   after  Van  Gogh  left  Cormon’s,  the  painter  transitioned  from  his  anatomy  studies  to   scenes   of   everyday   life   like   those   of   the   Impressionists,   such   as   in   Jardin   du   Luxembourg  and  Boulevard  de  Clichy.  He  began  using  broken  strokes  and  hues  to   convey   a   sense   of   atmosphere,   motion,   and   space.   I   aim   to   interpret   Vincent’s   newfound  approach  among  the  works  with  which  Théo  came  into  contact  during  the   artist’s  stay  in  the  capital,  which  set  the  painter  on  a  course  to  develop  his  symbolic   conception  of  the  use  of  paint  and  texture  within  a  market  structure  that  supported   experimental  imagery.     Théo  began  working  for  his  Uncle  Cent’s  Brussels’s  branch  in  1873,  where  he   oversaw   the   stockroom,   and   sold   both   prints   and   images.  64  When   Uncle   Cent   transferred  Théo  to  The  Hague  branch  later  that  year,  Théo  sold  works  by  artists   such  as  Jacob  Maris,  Israëls,  and  Millet.  Théo  and  Vincent  often  traded  prints  and                                                                                                                   63  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  Van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  15-­‐16.  Homburg  33.  Zemel  189-­‐190.     64  In  January  1873,  Théo  moved  to  Brussels  and  at  fifteen  (he  would  turn  16  May  1st),  he  was  the   branch’s   youngest   assistant.   See   also:   Letter   2.   Upon   finding   out   the   news,   Van   Gogh,   who   was   working  at  The  Hague  branch  wrote:  “I’m  so  glad  that  both  of  us  are  now  in  the  same  line  of  business,   and  in  the  same  firm;  we  must  correspond  often.”  See  also:  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  22.           39   discussed   the   acquisitions   of   their   respective   branches.65  “Today   we   received   the   nouveautés,”  Théo  wrote  to  his  brother,  “which  included  the  print  after  Rembrandt   [figure  21].  It  looks  beautiful,  the  figure  of  Jesus,  in  particular,  is  beautiful,  and  the   whole  is  noble.”66  Uncle  Cent  then  sent  Théo  to  Paris  where  he  took  a  position  in  the   Montmartre  branch  and  became  manager  in  1881.  67    Perhaps  most  importantly  in   terms  of  Vincent’s  development  as  a  career-­‐driven  painter,  Théo  took  part   in  the   new   kind   of   dealer-­‐artist   relationship   necessitated   by   the   rise   in   independent   exhibitions,  which  in  part  changed  the  company’s  direction.     In   1873,   Goupil   &   Cie.   considered   artists   such   as   Gérôme   and   Rousseau   modern,  and  a  steady  stream  of  work  that  had  hung  in  the  Salon  passed  through                                                                                                                   65  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  141  to  Théo  from  Amsterdam  on  February  18,  1878.  “I  think  of  you  so  often   and   also   long   for   you,   and   every   morning   the   prints   on   the   wall   of   my   study   remind   me   of   you,   Christus  Consolator  and  pendant,  that  wood  engraving  after  Van  Goyen,  Dordrecht,  the  portrait  of   the  Rev.  Heldring,  The  oven  by  T.  Rousseau  and  so  on,  because  I  got  them  all  from  you,  and  so  the  pot   called  the  kettle  black  when  you  wrote  that  it  was  so  wrong  of  me  to  give  you  a  print  for  your  room   now  and  then,  if  I  find  something  that  goes  with  what  you  already  have.  So  enough  about  that,  I  say   in  turn,  but  write  and  tell  me  whether  you’ve  added  some  good  thing  or  other  to  your  collection,  do   continue  with  it,  because  the  way  you  do  it  and  set  about  it,  it’s  most  certainly  a  good  work.”     66  Théo   wrote   letter   45   to   Van   Gogh   from   The   Hague   on   October   7,   1875.   Théo   referred   to   Rembrandt’s  The  Pilgrims  at  Emmaus  (1648).   67  Letter  152,  note  16.  By  the  late  1870s  Goupil  &  Cie.  had  three  shops  connected  to  galleries:  9  Rue   Chaptal  (with  a  printing  press,  hotel,  and  artist  studios),  19  Boulevard  Montmartre  (a  gallery  with  the   ground  floor,  a  mezzanine,  and  a  basement),  and  2  Place  de  l’Opéra  (the  most  lavish  space).  See  also:   Stolwijk  and  Thomson  78,  69.  Théo  visited  one  of  Goupil  &  Cie.’s  Paris  branches  in  1878  to  help  with   the  company’s  Exposition  Universelle  stall  and  moved  to  Paris  in  November  1879.  At  this  time,  Uncle   Cent  sold  his  shares  to  René  Valadon  (Boussod’s  son-­‐in-­‐law)  and  retired.           40   Goupil  &  Cie.,  either  as  a  canvas  or  reproductive  print.68  In  the  1880s  Goupil  &  Cie.’s   interest  in  work  vetted  at  the  Salon  did  not  waver,  but  Théo  visited  exhibitions  of   emerging   artists   and   began   making   a   few   deals   with   Impressionist   painters.   Théo   made   his   first   Impressionist   trade   in   March   1884,   a   landscape   by   Pissarro.69  Théo   sold  three  more  Impressionist  canvases  the  following  year:  a  winter   landscape  by   Alfred  Sisley,  a  garden  scene  by  Renoir,  and  Monet’s  Vétheuil  (c.  1878-­‐1881)  [figure   22].   From   this   point   on,   Théo   handled   a   good   number   of   Pissarro   and   Monet’s   respective  work.  70  From  his  experience,  Théo  tried  to  explain  to  Vincent  the  avant-­‐ garde   developments,   but   it   was   difficult   for   the   artist   to   understand   the   new   pictorial   aims   because   he   could   not   study   the   imagery   while   he   was   living   in   Nuenen.71   Théo   had   come   to   find   the   Impressionists’   painterly   contribution   worth   trading  and  continued  to  explain  to  Vincent  the  merits  of  the  new  methods,  which   impacted  the  artist  indirectly.  “My  brother  was  here  just  recently,”  Vincent  wrote  to                                                                                                                   68  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  4.   69  Théo  may  have  had  a  buyer  in  mind  because  the  painting  changed  hands  the  same  day.   70  Letter  569,  note  3.  Letter  528,  note  9.  Renoir  dealt  mainly  with  Durand-­‐Ruel—Goupil’s  brokered   only   five   sales   for   Renoir   between   1885   and   1892—and   Goupil’s   purchased   a   modest   number   of   Sisley’s   canvases,   eleven   between   1885   and   1892.   See   Rewald,   “Théo   Van   Gogh,   Goupil   and   the   Impressionists”  5.     71  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  450  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  in  mid-­‐June  1884.  “And  from  what  you  said  about   Impressionism,  I’ve  grasped  that  it’s  something  different  from  what  I  thought  it  was,  but  it’s  still  not   entirely  clear  to  me  what  one  should  understand  by  it.”         41   Anthon  van  Rappard  a  few  months  after  Théo’s  first  Monet  sale;  “he  told  me  several   things   about   what’s   going   on   in   Paris   [and]   I   was   interested   in   what   he   told   me   about…Claude  Monet,  a  colorist   landscape  painter.”72  Van  Gogh  did  not  elaborate   on  what  he  meant  by  “colorist  landscape  painter,”  but  at  the  time  he  was  thinking   about   using   complementary   colors   and   of   “breaking   colors.”73  The   water   in   the   foreground  of  Monet’s  Vétheuil,  for  instance,  depends  on  the  relationship  between   the  shape  of  the  brush  and  unblended  violets,  umbers,  and  highlights  that  depict  the   reflection  of  the  church  rising  in  the  mid-­‐ground.  Color  in  Monet’s  Vétheuil  is  literally   broken;   marks   appear   as   if   floating   on   the   surface   they   intend   to   describe.   The   church’s  colors  mirror  those  in  the  water,  unifying  the  foreground  and  mid-­‐ground   through  hue,  but  their  respective  textures  remain  in  contrast.  Although  Van  Gogh’s   encounter   with   Vétheuil   is   not   documented,   describing   Monet   as   a   colorist   landscape  painter  accurately  encompasses  the  ways   in  which  Monet’s  use  of  hue   and  texture  innovate.  Van  Gogh  would  soon  adopt  Monet’s  approach  in  Paris.     The  year  Vincent  arrived  in  Paris,  Goupil  &  Cie.  underwent  several  changes   that   would   allow   he   and   Théo   to   explore   the   work   of   artists   who   exhibited                                                                                                                   72  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  528  to  Anthon  van  Rappard  from  Nuenen  on  August  18,  1885.     73  Letter  528.             42   independently.  74  Throughout   the   early   1880s,   Goupil   &   Cie.   handled   paintings   by   Delacroix,   Gérôme,   and   academic   painter   William-­‐Adolphe   Bouguereau,   work   Thomson  refers  to  as  “safe  stock.”75  Paintings  that  had  shown  at  the  Salon,  and  that   were  academically  driven,  sold.  In  1887,  Goupil  &  Cie.  held  a  sale  to  liquidate  this   stock,  began  reorganizing  the  company,  and  did  not  renew  contracts  with  successful   artists,   such   as   Bouguereau.   After   this   restructuring   period,   Théo   began   dealing   more  frequently  more  with  the  Impressionists.  With  the  capital  raised  through  the   sale  of  the  old  stock,  Théo  investigated  new  artistic  options  and  was  in  charge  of   finding  emerging  artists.76  Théo  hung  their  works  in  the  mezzanine,  introduced  their   paintings   to   buyers,   and   included   their   imagery   in   a   dialog   with   other   respected   avant-­‐garde  artists.77                                                                                                                     74  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  69.  Adolph  Goupil  stepped  down  in  1884  and  in  1887  retired,  leaving  Goupil   &  Cie.  to  partners  Léon  Boussod  and  his  son-­‐in-­‐law  René  Valadon.  They  renamed  the  company  and   created  a  new  insignia,  Boussoud  &  Valadon  successors  of  Goupil  &  Cie,  keeping  the  name  Goupil  as  a   way  to  mark  their  lineage  (though  many  still  referred  to  the  company  as  “Goupil”).   75  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  75.     76  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  137.   77  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  7.  Although  the  archival  records  of  Goupil   &   Cie.   sales   do   not   list   the   broker   who   sold   particular   paintings,   the   records   do   indicate   a   steep   increase  in  sales  of  Impressionist  works—and  they  were  most  likely  purchased  by  the  Montmartre   branch   because   the   Place   d’Opéra   branch   did   not   sell   Impressionist   paintings   until   the   1890s.   Furthermore,  artists  may  have  left  work  on  consignment,   in  which  case  the  clerk  at  Goupil  &  Cie.   would  have  listed  the  date  of  purchase  and  date  of  sale  as  the  same  day.  That  the  paintings  were  sold   on  the  same  day  the  company  acquired  them  may  indicate  that  the  dealer  had  a  buyer  lined  up.  If  the   dealer  had  a  buyer  in  mind,  the  deal  was  not  as  risky  as  investing  in  a  painter’s  work.  If  a  painting  was   not  sold  on  the  day  of  acquisition,  there  is  no  telling  how  long  a  work  on  consignment  would  have   been   in   stock   nor   what   works   Goupil   &   Cie.   had   on   hand   but   did   not   sell.   See   also:   Stolwijk   and   Thomson   123.   Thomson   points   out   that   due   to   factors   such   as   these,   Théo’s   work   with   the         43   After   the   last   Impressionist   exhibition   in   1886,   Théo   began   aggressively   acquiring  avant-­‐garde  works,  whose  market  had  developed  after  over  a  decade  of   artist-­‐run  exhibitions.78  Pissarro,  for  instance,  placed  two  paintings  with  Goupil’s  in   1887,   including   Récolte   des   joins   and   Marché   de   Pontoise.  79  Thereafter,   Pissarro   dealt   regularly   with   Théo   and   Goupil   &   Cie.,   where   he   sold   23   more   paintings   between  1888  and  1895,  most  of  which  fetched  prices  of  over  1000  francs.  In  1887,   Goupil   &   Cie.   handled   15   canvases   by   Monet,   such   as   images   of   Belle-­‐Isle   and   Étretat,  eight  of  which  sold  that  year.80  The  Impressionist  painter  exchanged  nearly   100  paintings  with  Goupil  &  Cie.  thereafter,  and  his  works  demanded  higher  prices   than  those  of  Pissarro,  selling  for  about  3000  francs.81  Although  Goupil  &  Cie.  did  not   handle  as  many  of  Manet’s  and  Renoir’s  paintings  as  they  did  Monet’s,  Goupil  &  Cie.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Impressionists   should   not   cast   him   as   a   champion   of   Impressionism.   I   find   that   Théo’s   role   in   marketing  the  Impressionist  works  cannot  be  overlooked  in  terms  of  Van  Gogh’s  exploration  of  avant-­‐ garde  painterly  methods.     78  Stolwijk  and  Thomson  81.     79  Camille  Pissarro,  Camille  Pissarro:  Letters  to  his  Son  Lucien,  eds.  John  Rewald  and  Lucien  Pissarro   (New  York:  Pantheon  Books  Inc.,  1943)  120.  “Things  are  picking  up,”  Pissarro  wrote  to  his  son  Lucien   in  September  1887,  “I  received  a  letter  along  with  eight  hundred  francs  from  Théo  Van  Gogh;  he  sold   [collector  George]  de  Bellio  my  large  painting;  the  one  in  grey  light.”  See  also:  Rewald,  “Théo  van   Gogh,   Goupil   and   the   Impressionists”   appendix   1.   Goupil   &   Cie.’s   ledger   from   1887   indicates   that   both  paintings  sold  the  day  of  acquisition.   80  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  appendix  1.  Three  of  Monet’s  paintings   were  listed  as  selling  the  day  of  acquisition.   81  One  of  Monet’s  snow  landscapes  sold  to  a  New  York  collector  in  1889  for  10,350  francs.         44   acquired  Manet’s  Marine  (an  unknown  painting)  in  1886,  which  sold  for  200  francs,   and  bought  and  sold  Renoir’s  Canotiers  (1875)  [figure  23].82     Théo  also  made  investments  in  works  by  artists  such  as  Degas,  which  paid  off   in   the   long   term.   Degas,   who   placed   Femme   accoundée   près   d’un   pot   de   fleurs   (1865)  [figure  24]  with  Goupil’s  in  1887,  sold  in  1889  for  5500  francs,  twice  as  much   as   some   of   the   equivalently   experimental   images.   Théo   also   maintained   relationships  with  buyers  who  were  interested  in  new  work  by  established  artists,   such   as   Monet,   and   up-­‐and-­‐coming   artists,   such   as   Gauguin.83  From   Théo,   the   collector  Jean  Baptiste  Casimir  Dupuis  purchased  several  recently  painted  images  in   1887,  such  as  Monet’s  Tempête  sur  les  côtes  de  Belle-­‐Isle  (1886)  and  Pyramides  de   Port-­‐Coton,   Belle-­‐Isle   (1886),   Gauguin’s   Baigneurs   [figures   25-­‐27]   and   Armand   Guillaumin’s  Paysage,  bord  de  rivière.84  Théo  developed  longstanding  relationships                                                                                                                   82  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  7,  note  10.  Marine  sold  to  an  artist  named   Boggs.   See   also:   letter   570,   which   Van   Gogh   wrote   to   Charles   Angrand   from   Paris   on   Monday,   October  25  1886.  Van  Gogh  wanted  to  exchange  work  with  Boggs  and  wrote  to  Angrand  about  it.  See   also:  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  appendix  1.  Canotiers  sold  on  the  same   day  in  November  of  1887  for  350  francs.   83  On  Théo  and  Gauguin’s  patron-­‐like  relationship,  see:  Théo’s  letter  711,  which  he  wrote  to  Vincent   from  Paris  on  Tuesday,  October  23,  1888.  Théo  sold  several  of  Gauguin  paintings  to  Dupuis,  as  well  as   other  collectors  such  as  Ambroise  Vollard,  through  Goupil  &  Cie.  “What  will  please  you,”  Théo  wrote   to  Vincent  in  October  1888,  “is  that  I’ve  sold  Gauguin’s   large  painting,  the  Breton  women,”  which   Théo  had  sold  to  Dupuis.  Théo  paid  Gauguin  monthly  in  exchange  for  work.  Although  the  relationship   lasted  only  until  Gauguin  visited  Vincent  in  Arles  in  1888,  Théo’s  work  with  Gauguin  represents  a  new   way  of  conducting  business  during  a  time  when  many  independent  artists  sought  a  gallery-­‐dealer  to   stabilize  their  livelihoods.     84  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  75.         45   with  clients  who  were  interested  in  developing  a  collection  of  contemporary  work,   and  he  fostered  a  patron-­‐like  relationship  with  emerging  artists,  such  as  Gauguin.85     The  Impressionists  proved  that  landscapes  and  urban  subjects  not  only  held  a   viable  market  niche,  but  that  salable  canvases  could  challenge  conventional  notions   of   composition.   The   group   of   images   Goupil   &   Cie.   purchased   and   sold   between   1884   and   1887   represent   both   new   works,   such   as   those   by   Monet,   and   older   paintings,   such   as   Degas’s   and   Renoir’s   canvases.   Taken   together,   the   canvases   capture   the   range   of   techniques   within   Impressionism   and   provide   a   frame   of   historical  reference,  from  the  1860s  through  the  1880s.  For  instance,  Tempête  and   Pyramide,  painted  while  Monet  was  staying  on  Belle-­‐Isle  an  island  of  Brittany,  have  a   flattened  figure-­‐ground  relationship  and  Monet’s  characteristic  use  of  deep  blue  and   violet   hues   to   craft   shadows.   Although   logistical   market   concerns   governed   decisions,  the  initial  buying  pattern  at  the  start  of  Goupil  &  Cie.’s  relationship  with   contemporary   and   Impressionist   artists   shows   an   interest   in   the   wide-­‐ranging   perspectives  the  group  of  painters  had  to  offer—from  landscape  to  still   life,  from   modern   working-­‐class   boaters   to   upper-­‐class   portraits   and   from   the   loose   brushwork  of  Renoir’s  Canotiers  to  Degas’s  tightly  rendered  Femme.                                                                                                                     85  White   and   White   111,   126.   Durand-­‐Ruel,   and   his   rival   Georges   Petit,   and   Goupil   &   Cie.   began   paying  painters  in  advance,  creating  a  patron-­‐like  system  that  allowed  for  a  good  deal  of  autonomy  so   artists   could   create   innovative   imagery.   This   gave   dealers   first   glance   at   new   work   and   a   steady   number  of  paintings  to  show  collectors  interested  in  avant-­‐garde  work.             46   Van   Gogh’s   exposure   to   the   techniques   and   scope   of   subject   matter   is   evident  in  his  landscapes  and  street  scenes  from  this  period,  subject  matter  to  which   he   returned   after   his   short   foray   into   academic   paintings.   In   the   vein   of   Renoir’s   Canotiers,   Van   Gogh   depicted   a   contemporary   Montmartre   café   scene   during   the   day  in  La  Guinguette  [figure  28]  in  the  fall  of  1886.  He  continued  to  depend  on  the   dark   umbers   and   sienna   hues   he   used   in   The   Potato   Eaters   and   Peasant   Women   Digging  up  Potatoes,  but  the  sky  opens  with  a  light  hue,  and  the  highlights  in  the   lamp  post  and  table-­‐tops  reflect  atmospheric  effects.   In  La  Guinguette,  Van  Gogh   applied  heavy  impasto  paint  and  indicated  some  the  figures  in  a  silhouette,  unlike   Renoir’s   brushwork   in   Canotiers.   Canotiers   shows   Renoir’s   soft   scumbled   mark-­‐ making,   a   complex   combination   of   hue,   translucent   highlights,   and   saturated   lowlights.  The  texture  Renoir  generates  allows  the  figures  to  appear  as  if  the  sun’s   light  moves  over  the  fabric  of  their  clothing,  reflecting  glimmers  of  tints  that  quickly   transition  to  deep  shadows.  Although  Renoir’s  surface  quality  is  sophisticated,  Van   Gogh’s  mark-­‐making  in  Bords  de  rivière  au  printemps:  pont  de  Clichy  (spring  1887)   [figure  29]  likewise  conveys  lighter  brushwork.  Van  Gogh  left  the  mark  of  the  brush   unblended  and  clustered  light  whites,  yellows,  and  greens  together  to  convey  light   reflecting  from  the  foliage.  Based  on  a  prism  of  greens,  Van  Gogh  attempted  a  sharp   shift   from   highlights   to   lowlights,   indicated   with   dense   emerald   hues   situated   adjacent  to  opaque  yellows.  Like  Renoir’s  Canotiers,  Van  Gogh  included  a  body  of         47   water  in  Bords  de  rivière  au  printemps  peeking  through  the  middle-­‐ground  grasses,   providing  a  reflective  backdrop  framed  by  the  trees  and  bushes.  In  both  Canotiers   and   Bords   de   rivière   au   printemps,   the   artists   painted   the   water   with   a   different   motion  and  texture  to  contrast  the  foliage.  Van  Gogh’s  sense  of  textural  depth  led   from  Renoir’s  in  some  ways  as  the  artist  recognized  Renoir’s  “pure,  clean  drawing”   and  attempted  to  paint  with  a  keen  understanding  of  the  ways  in  which  the  sun’s   light  can  give  shape  to  water  and  foliage.86   Monet’s   landscape  also   influenced  Van  Gogh’s  use  of  perspectival  devices.   Monet’s   Tempête   and   Pyramides   from   Étretat   both   have   a   compounded   figure-­‐ ground  relationship.  By  1886  Monet  was  experimenting  with  a  visual  rhetoric  that,   although   grounded   in   the   optical   studies   of   Impressionism,   reduced   the   subject   toward  the  symbolic  and  moved  away  from  the  mode  of  mimetic  painting  associated   with  early  Impressionism.87  While  the  waters  of  Monet’s  Étretat  paintings  simulate   the   horizon’s   distance,   the   furthest   point   seems   to   dissolve   in   Tempête   and,   in   contrast,   the   horizon   line   delineates   rectangular   shapes   in   Pyramides.   In   both   instances,  rather  than  recede  into  space,  the  horizon  fosters  the  flattened  figure-­‐                                                                                                                 86  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  603  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Friday,  May  4,  1888.  “I  very  often  think  of  Renoir   here  and  his  pure,  clean  drawing.  That’s  just  the  way  objects  or  figures  are  here,  in  the  clear  light.”   87  Robert  Goldwater,  Symbolism  (New  York,  New  York:  Westville  Press,  1979)  1-­‐2.  Goldwater  asserts   that   Monet’s   Êtretat   and   Belle-­‐Isle   pictures   from   1886   moved   “in   the   direction   of   ‘scientific   objectivity’—a  parallel  to  the  neo-­‐impressionist  goal”  (2).  On  Monet,  Goldwater  further  clarified  that   “concentration  and  reduction  remove  the  scene  from  transcription   in  the  direction  of  symbol  and   towards  the  fuller  development  of  the  nineties  and  later”  (2).         48   ground  relationship,  causing  the  image  to  appear  as  an  abstract  plane  of  hue  and   texture.   Other   than   the   rock   formation’s   shadows,   the   sense   of   the   sun’s   light   is   absent  in  the  sky  itself,  and  the  brushstrokes  generate  a  pattern  of  hue  and  light  that   signifies  the  sun’s  presence.     Van  Gogh  incorporated  these  compositional  strategies  in  Bank  of  the  Seine   (summer   1887)   and   Femme   dans   un   jardin   (summer   1887)   [figures   30   &   31].   He   used  a  pattern  of  varying  hues  to  suggest  water  lapping  against  the  shore.  In  Femme   dans  un  jardin,  he  complicated  the  sense  of  the  sun’s  light  and  that  of  the  depth  of   field   by   raising   the   horizon   line,   as   Monet   did   in   Pyramides.   The   compositional   devices  at  work  in  Van  Gogh’s  two  paintings  not  only  indicate  that  he  was  studying   Monet’s   imagery,  but  that  he  too  was  able  to  push  aside  considerations  of  depth   and   atmospheric   perspective   to   understand   the   ways   in   which   hue,   stroke,   and   texture  could  transform  the  surface.  He  effectively  generated  the  expression  of  the   landscape  through  the  medium  of  his  palette  rather  than  through  descriptive  local   color.  For  instance,  Van  Gogh  did  not  indicate  a  sense  of  depth  in  Femme  dans  un   jardin,  and  moved  into  a  symbolic  realm  that  focused  on  the  figure  as  a  vehicle  of   shape  and  color,  intricately  bound  to  the  landscape’s  formal  qualities.     For  Van  Gogh,  the  figure  was  no  longer  a  form  centralized  in  a  space,  whose   limbs  and  expression  he  had  to  capture  with  subtle  hints  of  modeled  color  as  he  had   done  in  the  atelier  of  Verlat  or  Cormon.  The  figure  in  Femme  dans  un  jardin  becomes         49   a   form   within   the   structure   of   the   composition,   and   suggests   that   Van   Gogh   reconsidered  the  overall  organization  of  a  picture  plane.  In  contrast,  for  the  figures   in  Peasant  Women  Digging  up  Potatoes,  Van  Gogh  used  their  clothing  to  show  the   shape  of  their  bodies  beneath  the  fabric.  Situated  firmly  in  the  middle-­‐ground,  Van   Gogh  framed  the  figures  with  the  sky,  field  and  trees.  The  orange  fabric  in  Femme   dans  un  jardin  complements  the  greens  of  the  grasses,  providing  a  counterpoint,  and   positions   the   figure   in   an   unusual   play   of   spatial   depth.   Van   Gogh   created   a   triangular  sense  of  space  through  the  orange  of  the  woman’s  skirt  and  the  similar   hue   found   at   either   corner   of   the   image’s   foreground.   Among   the   sea   of   grasses   indicated   with   elongated   strokes,   the   triangular,   recessive   shape   the   orange   hue   creates  through  implied   lines   is  countered  by  the  wall-­‐like  view  of  abstract  green   marks.  Monet’s  and  Van  Gogh’s  respective  images  belie  a  sense  of  depth.  They  use   hue  and  facture  to  flatten  a  subject  matter  that  typically  conveys  a  deep  sense  of   space,  an  ocean  and  a  woman  in  a  field  respectively.   Van  Gogh  transitioned  from  mastering  the  figure’s  proportions  to  a  body  of   work  that  included  the  figure  as  a  part  of  the  picture-­‐plane’s  compositional  devices,   and   crafted   images   that   challenged   academic   standards.   The   competition   among   dealers  generated  a  market  that  allowed  painters  more  freedom  and  provided  an   income,  though  sometimes  insecure.  As  a  dealer,  Théo  was  a  part  of  the  process,   from  selecting  artist’s  work,  to  managing  a  body  of  images.  This  economic  system         50   led  Monet  to  generate  increasingly  innovative  works  that  re-­‐considered  perspectival   ideals  and  showed  an  up-­‐and-­‐coming  artist,  like  Van  Gogh,  how  avant-­‐garde  work   could  not  only  sell,  but  set  the  standard.  Théo’s  impact  on  the  Impressionists  was   long  felt.  Emerging  artists,  such  as  Guillaumin  and  Bernard,  sought  Théo  because  he   could   hang   their   works   in   the   mezzanine   of   Goupil   &   Cie.   alongside   those   of   Monet.88  Vincent  wrote  to  his  sister  Willemien  (Wil)  that:  “Théo  works  for  all   the   Impressionists,  he’s  done  something  for  and  sold  for  all  of  them,  and  will  certainly  go   on  doing  so.”89  After  Théo’s  untimely  death  in  1891,  Pissarro  noted  that  his  imagery   could  not  be  “understood”  without  Théo’s  steadfast  leadership.90  Théo’s  work  with   the  Impressionists  eventually  led  to  their  general  acceptance  by  the  1890s,  a  decade   in  which  Pissarro,  Renoir,  and  Monet  earned  sizable  incomes.91  For  his  brother,  Théo   modeled  an  example  as  to  how  avant-­‐garde  work  functioned  within  a  viable  market,   and   in   part   fostered   Vincent’s   shift   from   the   atelier   to   the   Impressionist’s   exhibitions.  Although  Van  Gogh  could  not  generate  an  income  through  his  painting   practice  within  his  lifetime,  the  connections  he  made  while  trying  to  do  so  became                                                                                                                   88  Neifeh  and  White  Smith  544-­‐546.     89  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  his  sister  Willemien  from  Arles  on  Wednesday,  June  20,  1888.   90  Pissarro  163.     91  Rewald,  “Théo  van  Gogh,  Goupil  and  the  Impressionists”  73.         51   the  foundation  by  which  the  influential  critic,  G.-­‐Albert  Aurier,  drew  attention  to  his   paintings  and  propelled  his  reputation  and  career.92       8me  Exposition  de  peinture   Bridges   across   the   Seine   at   Asnières   depicts   a   sunny   afternoon   along   the   docks  in  the  residential  neighborhood  just  north  of  the  city  [figure  9].  A  woman  with   a  fashionable  silhouette  and  a  bright-­‐pink  parasol  and  matching  dress  seems  static,   as  if  she  has  paused  in  a  moment  of  leisure.  Painted  quickly  with  a  few  black  strokes,   a  monochromatic  figure  with  slumped  shoulders  and  the  outline  of  a  working  man’s   hat   sits   on   the   dock   overlooking   the   river,   pictorially   disjointed   from   the   woman   through   his   scale,   color,   and   form.     Aspects   of   the   modern   industrial   city   frame   them:  railway  cars  rush  toward  the   industrial  Commune  de  Clichy,  smoke  plumes   interrupt  the  sky,  bridges  appear  between  pilings  obliterating  the  horizon  line,  and   boats  float  along  the  river.  John  House  has  interpreted  Bridges  across  the  Seine  as  a   utopian   vision   of   leisure,   industry,   and   nature,   and   James   Rubin   as   a   study   of   modern   life   derived   from   the   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   images.93  Van                                                                                                                   92  Carol  M.  Zemel,  The  Formation  of  a  Legend:  Van  Gogh  Criticism,  1890-­‐1920  (Ann  Arbor  Michigan:   UMI  Research  Press,  1977)  62-­‐73.     93  John   House,   “Towards   the   Modern   Landscape,”   Vincent   van   Gogh   and   the   Painters   of   the   Petit   Boulevard,   ed.   Cornelia   Homburg   (Saint   Louis:   Saint   Louis   Art   Museum,   2001)   166.   House   reads   Bridges   across   the   Seine   as   a   utopia   of   leisure,   industry,   and   nature.   See   also:   James   H.   Rubin,   Impressionism  and  the  Modern  Landscape:  Productivity,  Technology,  and  Urbanization  from  Manet  to   Van  Gogh  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles,  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  2008)  162-­‐164.  Rubin         52   Gogh   encountered   their   works   as   a   varied   body   of   mark-­‐making   technique   and   subject   matter   at   the   last   Impressionist   exhibition,   which   led   to   images   such   as   Bridges  across  the  Seine.     Furthermore,  their  mode  of  modernism  was  distinct  in  that  their  images  did   not   necessarily   entail   a   direct   study   of   the   material   world,   but   a   description   that   depended  on  an  idiosyncratic  translation  through  paint,  color,  line,  or  form.  Through   the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists,  Van  Gogh  learned  to  construct  modern   life   through   notions   of   referential   illusion,   a   modernist   mode   of   verisimilitude   defined  by  Roland  Barthes  by  which  the  artist  empties  the  sign  of  its  signified,  so  the   real  becomes  a  connoted  signified.94  In  other  words,  Van  Gogh’s  painterly  rhetoric   was  not  tied  to  the  model,  to  Asnières,  but  to  the  visual  construction  of  place,  to   signs  of  modernity,  and  to  the  medium  and  techniques  themselves.  In  Bridges  across   the   Seine,   Van   Gogh   belied   conventional   description   and   depended   on   non-­‐ functional   descriptive   details,   elements   that   do   not   describe   Asnières   realistically,                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               acknowledges   that   the   image   shows   Van   Gogh’s   interest   in   the   new   techniques   of   Neo-­‐ Impressionism.     94  Roland  Barthes,  “The  Reality  “Effect,”  The  Rustle  of  Language,  trans.  Richard  Howard  (New  York:   Hill  and  Wang,  1986)  147-­‐148.  Using  Gustave  Flaubert’s  Madame  Bovary  (1857),  Barthes  noted  that   Flaubert’s  referent  (his  medium)  is  connected  to  a  culturally  bound  representation,  not  to  the  model.   For  Flaubert  Rouen  was  a  blank  canvas,  so  to  speak,   for  metaphorical  and  symbolic  meaning;  the   author  sought  a  new  reason  to  describe—he  did  not  aim  to  be  realistic,  but  to  use  the  structure  of   description  to  notate  meaning.         53   but  connote  the  experience  of  a  contemporary  place  through  the  structure  of  the   painting.95     The  modernist  ideals  Barthes  observed  suggest  that  reality  is  an  effect,  and   avant-­‐garde  artists  challenged  representation  by  postponing  the  object  and  halting   the  subject  by  mediating  the  object’s  depiction  through  color  and  form.96  At  the  last   Impressionist   Exhibition,   where   Degas,   Seurat,   Pissarro,   Signac,   and   Gauguin   included  paintings,  Van  Gogh  would  have  seen  paintings  and  drawings  of  innovative   textures,   saturated   colors,   and   modern   subject   matter.   Seurat   debuted   his   new   pointillist   technique   in   Sunday   Afternoon   on   the   Island   of   La   Grande-­‐Jatte   (1884-­‐ 1886)  [figure  32].  Pissarro  submitted  pointillist  imagery,  such  as  Apple  Picking  (1886)   [figure   33],   and   Signac   a   painting   that   merged   both   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionist   modes   in   The   Gas   Tanks   at   Clichy   (1886)   [figures   34].   From   their   influence,  Van  Gogh  incorporated  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist  technique  in  Interior  of  a   Restaurant   (1887)   [figure   35].   Van   Gogh   included   varying   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionist   factures   in   Bridges   across   the   Seine.   From   broken   strokes   akin   to   Monet’s  to  stippled  marks  like  Seurat’s,  Bridges  across  the  Seine  conveys  a  sense  of   stasis  and  movement  through  the  methods  Monet  and  Seurat  employed.    Bridges   across   the   Seine   is   a   symbol   of   modern   life   painted   in   the   vernacular   of   his                                                                                                                   95  Barthes  146.   96  Barthes  141,  148.         54   contemporaries,  descriptive  elements  that  connect  Van  Gogh  to  the  Parisian  avant-­‐ garde  and  provide  the  effect  of  modern  life  through  the  painting’s  properties.     Since  the  Impressionist’s  first  1874  exhibition,  they  had  maneuvered  financial   difficulties   and   generated   a   new   market   system,   which   gave   them   increasing   exposure   and   the   ability   to   push   the   boundaries   of   their   individual   practices.  97   Among   the   paintings,   spectators   could   view   Monet’s   Impression:   Sunrise   (1873)   [figure  36].98  Individually,  their  subject  matter  was  distinct,  from  rural  landscapes  to   bourgeois  pastimes,  and  their  painterly  approach  was  divergent  as  well.  Degas  was,   in  the  words  of  critic  Stéphane  Mallarmé,  a  “master  of  drawing…[who]  has  sought                                                                                                                   97  Roos  205.  The  Impressionists  held  the  first  exhibition  from  April  15th  thru  May  15th  in  the  former   studio  of  Nadar  on  the  Boulevard  des  Capucines,  where  they  hung  165  works  and  received  more  than   3500  visitors  over  the  course  of  the  month.  They  staged  the  first  exhibition  to  run  concurrent  to  the   Salon.  The  Salon,  though,  welcomed  hundreds  of  thousands,  but  3500  (roughly  100  visitors  per  day)  is   quite  a  large  number  considering  the  small  scale  of  the  exhibition.  The  co-­‐operative  exhibitions  were   a  way  to  claim  a  new  part  of  the  market  and  to  assert  their  idiosyncratic  vision  against  the  values  of   the  Salon.  See  also:  Paul  Tucker  “The  First   Impressionist  Exhibition  in  Context,”  The  New  Painting:   Impressionism,  1874-­‐1876,  ed.  Charles  S.  Moffett  (San  Francisco:  The  Fine  Arts  Museum,  1986)  106.   From  its  first  iteration,  the  group  show  was  an  early  instance  when  artists  merged  resources  to  host   an  exhibition  free  from  a  juried  process,  allowing  painters  the  freedom  to  explore  subjective  painterly   processes.   98  Stephen   F.   Eisenman,   “The   Intransigent   Artist   or   How   the   Impressionists   Got   Their   Name,”   in   Critical  Reading  in  Impressionism  and  Post-­‐Impressionism:  An  Anthology,  ed.  Mary  Tompkins  Lewis   (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  2007)  149.  Louis  Leroy  derogatorily   called   Impression:   Sunrise   just   an   impression,   arguing   that   the   canvases   could   not   be   considered   complete  works  of  art.  “Wallpaper  in  its  embryonic  state,”  the  critic  wrote  chidingly,  “is  more  finished   than  that  seascape.”98  The  artists  eventually  voted  to  adopt  the  name.  By  the  third  exhibition  in  1877,   the  Société  anonyme  des  artists  voted  to  adopt  the  once  satirical  name  and  referred  to  themselves  as   the  Impressionists.         55   delicate  lines.”99  In  contrast,  in  Boulevard  des  Capucines  [figure  37]  Monet  captured,   according  to  critic  Ernest  Chesneau,  the  city  “in  all   its  tremendous  fluidity…in  this   marvelous   sketch.”100  Although   mark-­‐making   approaches   differed,   the   painters’   imagery   revolved   around   scenes   from   contemporary   life   painted,   in   Mallarmé’s   words,  “freely  and  without  restraint…an  incentive  to  a  new  manner  of  painting.”101   A  common  underlying  factor  was  that  the  artists  prioritized  their  respective  painterly   vocabulary.    Their  facture  was  thus  an  integral  a  part  of  their  conceptual  ideals,  and   a  part  of  their  aesthetic  that  allowed  the  Impressionists  to  depict  the  material  world   through   referential   illusion   by   depending   on   their   respective   notational   painterly   devices.   Due  to  market  considerations,  the  last  Impressionist  exhibition  in  1886  was   perhaps  one  of  the  most  diverse  in  terms  of  facture,  form,  and  hue.  Under  Degas   and   Pissarro’s   leadership,   planning   for   the   last   exhibition   began   in   October   1885                                                                                                                   99  Stéphane   Mallarmé,   “The   Impressionists   and   Édouard   Manet”   in   Moffett   33.   Since   the   first   exhibition,  a  wealth  of  criticism  on  the  works  provided  a  perspective  into  the  artist’s  compositional   and  theoretical  innovations,  namely  Mallarmé’s  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet”  (1876)  and   Edmond  Duranty’s  “The  New  Painting:  Concerning  the  Group  of  Artists  Exhibition  and  the  Durnad-­‐ Ruel   Galleries”   (1876),   written   in   response   to   the   second   exhibition.   Mallarmé’s   and   Duranty’s   respective  ideas  helped  to  shape  the  discourse  surrounding  the  exhibitions,  providing  a  framework  to   consider  the  value  of  avant-­‐garde  work.   100  Ernest  Chesneau  in  Moffett  130.   101  Mallarmé  quoted  in  Moffett  31.           56   amid  financial  setbacks  that  caused  the  artists  to  manage  the  exhibition  carefully.102   For  the  first  time,  the  Impressionist  painters  had  to  compete  against  solo  exhibitions   during  an  uncertain  financial  period.103  Degas  pressed  to  schedule  the  show  as  they   had   the   first:   concurrent   to   the   Salon.104  To   enhance   their   marketable   presence,   Degas   wanted   to   widen   the   painterly   scope   of   canvases   and   omitted   the   term   “Impressionist”  from  the  exhibition’s  pamphlet,  titling  it  simply  the  “8me  Exposition   de  peinture.”  As  Cormon  hung  his  works  at  the  Salon  that  year,  the  8me  Exposition  de   peinture  opened  its  doors,  running  from  May  15th  thru  June  15th  and  including  works   by   recognized   Impressionists—Degas,   Pissarro,   and   Berthe   Morisot—and                                                                                                                   102  Ward,   “The   Rhetoric   of   Independence   and   Innovation”   in   Moffett   421-­‐422.   In   1882,   the   Union   Générale   bank   collapsed,   which   directly   affected   Durand-­‐Ruel   who   had   received   financial   backing   from  the  bank’s  director.  There  was  a  failed  attempt  to  launch  an  Impressionist  exhibition  in  1884   because  Durand-­‐Ruel  was  selling  off  his  stock  to  recoup  his  losses  during  the  financial  depression.  See   also:  Joel  Jackson  “The  Painters  Called  Impressionists”   in  Moffett  377.  The  decisions  regarding  the   1882  Impressionist  Exhibition  were  driven  by  economic  restraints  and  the  need  to  make  a  profitable   turn.   Durand-­‐Ruel   purchased   a   lot   of   paintings   as   this   time   in   the   hopes   of   providing   a   suitable   income   for   the   painters.   Painting   prices   had   to   drop.   To   combat   the   deficit,   Durand-­‐Ruel   also   ambitiously  lent  the  paintings  internationally  and  held  solo  shows  for  Monet,  Pissarro,  and  Renoir  in   his  gallery  in  spring  1883,  which  were  not  financially  successful.  “Business  is  bad,”  Manet  wrote  to   Berthe   Morisot:   “Everyone   is   penniless   as   a   result   of   the   recent   financial   events,   and   painting   is   feeling  the  effect.”  See  also:  White  and  White  126.  Unlike  Goupil  &  Cie.,  Durand-­‐Ruel  had  purchased   a  considerable  number  of  Impressionist  canvases.     103  White  and  White  144.  In  1885  and  1886,  Georges  Petit,  hosted  several  solo  shows  for  Monet  and   Renoir,  neither  of  whom  exhibited  with  the  Impressionists  in  the  eighth  exhibition.  See  also:  Ward,   “The  Rhetoric  of  Independence  and  Innovation”  421-­‐439.  Ward  argues  that  the  competition  against   solo  shows  complicated  the  group’s  notion  of  independence.     104  Pissarro,   Camille   Pissarro:   Letters   to   his   Son   Lucien   69.   Pissarro   wrote   to   Lucien   from   Paris   on   March   2,   1886.   Pissarro   felt   Degas’s   idea   was   risky   in   terms   of   sales,   but   Degas’s   view   persisted.   “Nothing  to  report  about  the  exhibition.  I  am  afraid  it  will  be  held  on  account  of  Degas  who  insists   that  it  run  from  May  15  to  June  15—Absurd!”  See  also:  Pissarro,  Camille  Pissarro:  Letters  to  his  Son   Lucien  71.  Pissarro  wrote  to  Lucien  from  Paris  in  March  1886.         57   newcomers  Seurat,  Signac,  and  Odilon  Redon.  The  last  exhibition  brought  together   several  artistic  perspectives  of  modern  life,  from  a  Degas’  nude  [figures  38  &  39]  to   Seurat’s   symbolic   urban   scene   and   from   Pissarro’s   rural   pointillist   landscape   to   Signac’s   industrial  suburb.   In  a  series  of  narrow  rooms  above  the  Maison-­‐Doré,  a   visitor  would  be  able  to  observe  the  seascapes  of  Seurat  [figure  40]—misty,  still,  and   carefully  executed—along  with  Signac’s  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,   Saint-­‐Briac  (1885)  [figure  41],  a  textural  seascape.  For  an  emerging  artist  like  Van   Gogh,  the  ways  in  which  artists  could  approach  a  similar  subject  matter  suggest  new   possibilities.105     The  body  of  work  at  the  8me  Exposition  de  peinture  underscored  that  artists   did   not   need   to   reach   a   cohesive   painterly   rhetoric   but   could   explore   varying   methods   among   a   body   of   work   and   within   one   canvas.   Gauguin   studied   with   Pissarro  in  Pontoise,  and  his  paintings,  such  as  Edge  of  the  Pond  (1885)  [figure  42],   resemble  those  of  his  teacher.  Similar  to  Pissarro’s  canvas  View  from  My  Window  in   Cloudy   Weather   (1886-­‐1888)   [figure   43]   Gauguin’s   Edge   of   the   Pond   depicts   a   compressed  figure-­‐ground  relationship,  organic  hues  of  greens  and  umbers,  and  a                                                                                                                   105  When  Van  Gogh  arrived  in  Paris,  there  were  several  other  venues  besides  the  8me  Exposition  de   peinture  in  which  he  could  observe  Impressionist  and  Néo-­‐Impressionist  works.  In  June,  George  Petit   held  an  exhibition  of  Renoir  and  Monet.  In  late  August,  Van  Gogh  could  have  observed  canvases  by   Seurat  and  Signac  at  the  Société  des  artistes  indépendants  and  again  studied  Grand-­‐Jatte  or  Signac’s   landscapes  from  Andelys.           58   rural   subject   matter   of   farm   animals   and   foliage.   In   contrast,   one   of   Gauguin’s   paintings,   Women   Bathing   (1885)   [figure   44],   moves   away   from   Pissarro’s   aesthetic.106  Women  Bathing,  like  Monet’s  paintings  of  Belle-­‐Isle,  lacks  depth  and  is   a   seascape   of   flat   horizontal   lines   without   perspective.     Gauguin   used   clear   wide   bands  to  delineate  space  rather  than  light  and  shadow  to  show  a  spatial  distance   between  the  distant  sailboats  and  the  near  shore  where  the  bathers  wade.  Although   the  brushwork  is  visible  in  the  foreground  and  middle-­‐ground,  Gauguin  included  a   near-­‐solid  plane  of  bright  green  on  the  horizon.  Where  the  image  should  typically   roll  softly   into  the  distance,  Gauguin’s  use  of  a  saturated  hue  makes  the  furthest   waters   appear   flat.   Signac   created   a   comparable   image,   though   he   drew   from   Monet’s  use  of  a  gestural  stroke  in  Brisk  Breeze.  Unlike  Signac’s  pointillist  Gas  Tanks   at  Clichy,  Brisk  Breeze  conveys  rough  waters  along  the  coast  with  gestural  strokes   and  stark  white  highlights  to  show  the  peaks  of  the  waves.  Both  Gauguin  and  Signac   were  in  the  process  of  honing  their  respective  artistic  voices,  using  varying  modes  to   experiment  with  hue  and  spatial  perspective.     Similarly  to  Gauguin  and  Signac,  Van  Gogh  explored  several  genres  through   different  factures  and  use  of  hue.  Degas  included  a  series  of  pastel  nudes,  Girl  Drying   Herself   (1885)   and   The   Baker’s   Wife   (1885)   [figure   37   &   38].   Van   Gogh   admired                                                                                                                   106  Paul  Adam  quoted   in  Moffett  458.  On  Women  Bathing,  critic  Paul  Adam  wrote:  “An  enormous   metallic  sea  undulates  and  rolls,  advancing  in  sheets  toward  some  women….”         59   Degas’s  nudes,  although  it   is  uncertain  which  nudes  the  painter  observed.107  With   Degas’s  series,  Van  Gogh  would  have  been  met  with  figures  seemingly  related  to   those   he   had   hoped   to   paint   in   Cormon’s   studio.   In   contrast,   Degas   treated   the   female  subject  as  a  vehicle  for  expressive  color  and  mark-­‐making  and  subverted  the   smooth   forms   and   the   classical   canon   of   proportions   to   depict   “vulgar   slattern”   figures  who  could  never  be  mistaken  for  a  classical  nymph.108  The  color  of  Degas’s   nudes   is   opaque   and   intentionally   inconsistent   compared   to   the   golden-­‐hued   goddesses   of   Bouguereau’s   canvases,   for   example.   A   professor   at   the   Académie   Julian   and   at   the   École   des   Beaux-­‐Arts,   Bouguereau   was   a   well-­‐known   artist   who   idealized  the  female  form  in  the  tradition  of  classical  art.109  In  Degas’s  images,  the   women  are  most  likely  prostitutes  who  often  bathed  in  front  of  customers;  their  red   hands   and   faces   indicate   their   ruddy   complexions   and   lower-­‐class   status.110  Dark,   unblended  contour  lines  delineate  the  figure’s  flesh  from  that  of  the  setting.  Shown                                                                                                                   107  Letter  569.  “In  Antwerp,”  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Livens,  “I  did  not  even  know  what  the  impressionists   were,  now  that  I  have  seen  them  and  though  not  being  one  of  the  club  yet,  I  have  much  admired  the   impressionists’  pictures—Degas,  nude  figure—Claude  Monet,  landscape.”   108  Maurice  Hermel  quoted  in  Moffett  452.     109  Damien  Bartoli,  “William  Bouguereau  the  Teacher,”   In  the  Studios  of  Paris:  William  Bouguereau   and  His  American  Students,  ed.  James  F.  Peck  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  2006)   47-­‐56.   110  Joris-­‐Karl  Huysmans  in  Moffett  454.  “He  chooses  her  fat,  potbellied  and  short…drowning  any  grace   of   contour   in   tubular   rolls   of   skin…no   matter   to   what   social   class   she   belongs…[she   is]   a   creature   whose   vulgar   form   and   coarse   features…persuade   horror.”   Anthea   Callen,   The   Spectacular   Body:   Science,  Meaning,  and  the  Method  in  the  Work  of  Degas  (New  Haven:  Yale  University  Press,  1995).   See  also  a  review  on  Callen’s  book:  Thérèse  Dolan,  Art  Journal  18.2  (Autumn  1997  –  Winter  1998):  39-­‐ 42.         60   in  the  act  of  drying,  Degas’  figures  convey  the  physiognomy  of  working  women  with   stocky  rotund  forms.     Van   Gogh’s   Plaster   Cast   of   a   Woman’s   Torso   (February-­‐March   1887)   and   Reclining   Nude   (January-­‐March   1887)   [figures   45   &   46]   both   show   the   painter’s   consideration  of  the  nude  through  the  spectrum  of  Impressionism.  Painted  almost  a   year  after  Van  Gogh  left  Cormon’s,  Plaster  Cast  of  a  Woman’s  Torso  illustrates  the   artist’s  aim  to  carefully  craft  the  classical  nude  form.  The  texture  and  use  of  hue   resembles  Degas’s  Suite  of  Nudes.111  Van  Gogh’s  hatch  marks  crisscross  down  the   length   of   the   figure’s   back,   moving   between   cool   blue-­‐greens   and   warm   orange-­‐ reds.   Although   the   technique   of   hatching   can   create   subtle   tonal   shifts   when   blended,  Van  Gogh’s  mark-­‐making  is  like  Degas’s  in  that  he  left  the  marks  visible  as  a   sign  of  the  drawing  process.  The  artists  also  used  the  crosshatch  technique  to  depict   the   rug   and   background   respectively,   but   ultimately   the   application   flattens   the   picture  plane,  merging  the  background  and  central  figure  with  abstract  marks.     During   the   same   time   Van   Gogh   created   Plaster   Cast   of   a   Women’s   Nude   Torso,  he  was  also  painting  Reclining  Nude  from  a  live  model.  Compositionally,  Van   Gogh’s  Reclining  Nude  draws  from  Francisco  Goya’s  (1746-­‐1828)  La  maja  desnuda   (1797-­‐1800)   [figure   47],   though   it   also   follows   Degas’s   example.   Similar   to   Girl   Drying   Herself   and   The   Baker’s   Wife,   Reclining   Nude   depicts   an   explicitly   sexual                                                                                                                   111  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  17-­‐18.         61   woman  whose  large  hip,  jutting  up  a  bit  further  than  would  be  anatomically  correct,   conveys  her  less-­‐than-­‐idealized  form.112  La  maja’s  small,  delicate  hips  are  narrower   than  her  shoulders;  whereas  the  torsos  in  both  Degas’s  and  Van  Gogh’s  female  grow   from   a   wide   set   of   legs,   buttocks,   and   hips.   With   eyes   closed,   the   figure   in   Van   Gogh’s   Reclining   Nude   folds   her   arms   above   her   head,   leaving   her   body   fully   exposed.  Her  breasts  hang,  making  a  concave  shape,  and  contrast  with  the  round   swell  of  flesh  Goya  depicted.  The  overall  texture  of  Van  Gogh’s  canvas  is  a  pattern  of   long  strokes,  shaping  the  bed’s  folds,  the  curtain’s  canopy,  the  skin’s  warm  hue,  and   the  hair’s  dark,  unruly  nature.  Van  Gogh  used  a  soft  ochre  to  delineate  the  lower  leg   and   upper   arm   from   that   of   the   bed,   akin   to   the   umber   outline   around   Degas’s   prostitutes.  The  emerging  artist  studied  a  modern-­‐day  lower-­‐class  woman  through   the   lens   of   Degas’s   drawing   aesthetic.   In   critic   Edmond   Duranty’s   words,   Degas’s   drawing   abilities   rendered   “the   relationship   between   forms,   and   reflect   the   inexhaustible   diversity   of   character…[and   bid]   farewell   to   the   anatomical   model   beneath   the   nude.”113  Rather   than   study   the   form’s   underlying   skeletal   structure,   Van  Gogh  exaggerated  the  figure’s  anatomy.     In  the  landscape  genre,  Van  Gogh  merged  aspects  from  Seurat,  Monet,  and   Renoir  in  Bridges  across  the  Seine.  Similar  to  Seurat’s  Grand-­‐Jatte  in  which  high  and                                                                                                                   112  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  76.     113  Duranty  quoted  in  Moffett  43.           62   low-­‐class   Parisians   enjoy   the   day   along   the   Seine,   Van   Gogh’s   painting   includes   lower-­‐class   laborers   and   a   middle-­‐class   woman   in   Asnières,   a   suburb   of   Paris   accessible   by   train.   The   charcoal   colored   silhouette   of   the   slumped-­‐over   man   perched  on  the  water’s  edge  provides  a  counterpoint  to  the  brightly  clothed  woman   in   the   tailored   pink   dress.   Parasols   and   resting   workmen   populate   Seurat’s   large   canvas,  but  these  elements  exist  seemingly  separate  from  one  another  and  convey  a   static  quality.  Van  Gogh’s  figures  likewise  seem  motionless  and  do  not  engage  but   remain  in  their  respective  compositional  planes.    Unlike  Seurat,  Van  Gogh  painted   them   with   an   impressionistic   facture.   The   man   on   the   dock   and   those   in   the   background  resemble  the  quickly  rendered  figures  in  Monet’s   Impression:  Sunrise,   painted  monochromatically  with  a  few  strokes.  Poised  along  the  edge  of  the  Seine,   the   man   and   fashionable   women   in   stasis   contrast   the   waters   that   ripple   below,   providing  a  sense  of  movement.     Van   Gogh’s   depiction   of   water   in   Bridges   across   the   Seine   resembles   the   techniques  of  Renoir  and  Monet.  The  Impressionist  painters  included  similar  strokes   in  their  respective  images  of  the  suburb  Grenouillère  [figures  48  &  49].  Renoir  and   Monet   depicted   the   leisurely   working-­‐class   in   Grenouillère,   both   using   broad   unblended  bands  of  color  to  signify  the  water’s  ever-­‐changing  reflection.  Likewise,   Van   Gogh’s   indication   of   the   water’s   movement,   affirms   the   immediacy   of   his   painting   technique   before   sunlight’s   fleeting   effects   [figure   50].   Although         63   Impressionist   paintings   seem   to   be   painted   quickly,   not   all   were. 114  The   impressionistic  comma-­‐like  stroke  became  a  symbol;  painters  intentionally  created   well-­‐constructed  fleeting  moments.  Van  Gogh  worked  with  a  varied  array  of  distinct   factures,  from  the  point  to  the  elongated  mark  in  Bridges  across  the  Seine,  depicting   transitory  moments  to  suggest  that  he  was  capturing  what  was  immediately  before   him.   He   also   captured   a   sense   of   movement,   such   as   rippling   waves,   reflecting   sunlight,  swaying  grasses,  puffing  smoke,  and  a  speeding  train.  While  Van  Gogh’s  use   of  brushwork  resembles  Renoir  and  Monet’s  Grenouillère  imagery,  his  use  of  color   connects  to  Seurat.  In  Grand-­‐Jatte,  Seurat  juxtaposed  greens  and  reds,  yellows,  and   violets,  complementary  colors  that  when  placed  adjacent  fortify  hue,  making  a  blue   next  to  an  orange  more  vibrant.  The  colors  found  in  Van  Gogh’s  depiction  of  the   Seine   range   from   violets   to   Naples   yellow   and   from   deep   reds   to   sage   greens.   Ultimately,   the   facture   is   Impressionistic,   but   his   choice   of   color   suggests   his   application  of  Seurat’s  techniques.         On   the   bridge,   a   steam   train,   loaded   with   passengers,   travels   from   the   suburbs  to  the  city;  the  plumes  of  smoke  billowing  behind  it  suggest  its  speed.  The   train   was   a   well-­‐developed   theme   in   Monet’s   work   from   Argenteuil,   a   suburb   located   twenty   minutes   from   the   city   and   easily   reached   by   train,   exemplified   by                                                                                                                   114  Richard  Brettell,  Impressionism:  Painting  Quickly  in  France,  1860-­‐1890  (New  Haven  and  London:   Yale  University  Press,  2000).         64   Monet’s   landscapes   in  which  locomotives  trail  smoke:  Train   in  the  Countryside  (c.   1870)  and  The  Railway  Bridge  from  the  Port  (1873)  [figures  51  &  52].115  In  the  same   vein  as  Monet’s  Argenteuil  project,  Van  Gogh  conceptualized  that  the  suburbs  were   linked  to  Paris,  signified  by  the  steam  train  running  before  the  horizon.  Closer  to  the   city  than  Argenteuil,  Asnières’  series  of  bridges  were  rebuilt  in  the  1850s,  creating  a   direct  route  to  Asnières  through  Argenteuil,  and  allowing  it  to  grow  rapidly  into  a   modern  suburb.116  In  Asnières,  there  were  relatively  inexpensive  activities  available   to   the   middle   classes,   such   as   dining   in   cafes,   strolling   through   parks,   or   renting   boats.  Van  Gogh  depicted  some  of  these  activities  in  Bridges  across  the  Seine,  such   as   the   boats   floating   on   the   Seine.   He   did   not   seek   a   cohesive   system   of   mark-­‐ making  but  aimed  to  set  differing  components  in  a  dynamic  tension.     Similar  to  the  artists  hanging  their  work   in  the  8me  Exposition  de  peinture,   Van  Gogh  depended  on  the  notation  of  facture  and  hue.  For  Barthes,  experiencing   the  artist’s  notation  was  the  essence  of  the  viewer’s  encounter  of  the  object.117  Van   Gogh’s  exposure  to  experimental  paint  applications  and  compositional  devices  led   him  to  generate  images,  such  as  Bridges  across  the  Seine,  in  which  the  textures  and                                                                                                                   115  Rubin  91-­‐119.  Paul  Tucker  Hayes,  The  Impressionists  at  Argenteuil  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale   University  Press,  2000).  Richard  Brettell,  Pissarro  and  Pontoise:  The  Painter  in  the  Landscape  (New   Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1990).   116  Robert   Herbert,   Impressionism:   Art,   Leisure   and   Parisian   Society   (New   Haven:   Yale   University   Press,  1988)  196-­‐201.   117  Barthes  148.           65   hues   act   to   show   fashionable   silhouettes   and   poor   working-­‐class   posture,   mechanical  speed,  and  the  Seine’s  reflections.  The  brushstrokes  that  convey  stillness   and  motion  do  not  mimetically  describe  but  connote  the  painterly  rhetoric  of  the   avant-­‐garde  artists  Van  Gogh  encountered  in  Paris.  In  so  doing,  Bridges  across  the   Seine  represents  the  signifiers  of  modern  painting  though  the  facture  and  color  of   those  Van  Gogh  studied.  Although  Bridges  across  the  Seine  conveys  contemporary   subject  matter,  its  modernity  lies  in  the  artist’s  dependence  on  the  meaning  of  the   brushwork   and   color,   which   deny   the   viewer   access   to   the   object   of   Asnières.   Instead,   the   viewer   is   met   with   Van   Gogh’s   avant-­‐garde   painting   practices   and   a   mode  of  verisimilitude  that  does  not  mimetically  convey  the  suburb  itself,  but  the   role   suburban   communities   played   in   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   work.   Rather  than  seek  a  recognizable,  unified  texture  and  surface,  as  he  had  done  in  The   Potato  Eaters,  the  effect  Van  Gogh  created  in  Bridges  across  the  Seine  is  that  of  the   representation  of  the  multiple  languages  of  avant-­‐garde  facture  to  convey  the  signs   of   the   contemporary   world:   class,   mechanization,   and   the   suburban   community’s   connection  to  the  city.118                                                                                                                       118  Carol  Armstrong,  “Introduction  Manet’s  ‘Inconsistency,’”  Manet  Manett  (New  Haven  and  London:   Yale  University  Press,  2002)  xi-­‐xviii.  According  to  Armstrong,  Manet’s  style  was  built  on  a  fractured   foundation,  and  she  underscores  that  the  artistic-­‐self’s  singularity  was  put  together  with  “multiple   personalities  and  many  manners,  borrowed  from  elsewhere,  and  set  in  new  relation  to  one  another”   (xviii).  Armstrong’s  assertion  overturns  the  notion  that  the  modern  artist  desired  to  reach  a  creative   zenith,  a  succinct  and  recognizable  style.         66   Conclusion   Walking  away  from  Cormon’s  atelier  and  his  academic  studies  led  Van  Gogh   to   experience   the   contemporary   art   market   at   a   time   when   innovative   artists   struggled   to   assert   a   unique   artistic   voice   within   a   community   of   peers.   Théo   facilitated  Van  Gogh’s  access  to  Impressionist  works,  which  heightened  the  artist’s   awareness  of  their  unique  talent  and  aesthetic  distinctiveness.  In  one  of  Van  Gogh’s   first  attempts  at  avant-­‐garde  painting,  Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg,  the  artist   captured  the  likeness  of  a  city  street,  a  depth  of  perspective  and  the  overall  sense  of   space  filled  with  foliage  and  light  within  a  cityscape.  The  varying  approaches  within   8me  Exposition  de  peinture  underscored  that  artists  could  practice  the  language  of   color  and  form  in  idiosyncratic  ways  and  did  not  need  to  reach  a  homogenized  body   of  work  with  related  surface  qualities.  Van  Gogh’s  facture  and  use  of  hue  in  Bridges   across  the  Seine  in  Asnières  suggests  that  the  8me  Exposition  de  peinture  fostered  his   study  of  avant-­‐garde  painters  and  introduced  the  practice  of  incorporating  differing   aspects  from  their  canvases  into  his  composition.  That  his  works  reflect  divergent   aspects   of   avant-­‐garde   imagery   underscores   that   he   became   exposed   to   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐Impressionists   at   once   and   did   not   see   their   varying   aesthetics  develop  over  the  course  of  a  decade.   Van  Gogh  expected  to  find  options  to  market  his  work  in  the  capital.    As  he   did,  he  found  a  new  way  to  express  himself  though  the  diverse  painterly  modes  of         67   the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists.   In  Paris  there  were  several  currents  of   theory  that  opened  Van  Gogh’s  studies  to  different  ways  of  conceiving  an  image  to   which   he   did   not   have   access   in   The   Netherlands   and   Belgium:   the   Impressionist   understanding  of  abstracting  from  nature  and  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist  ideas  of  texture   and  symbolic  form.  After  experiencing  the  independent  exhibitions  in  Paris,  he  too   set  out  to  organize  some  of  his  own  installations  with  members  from  his  emerging   community,  Bernard  and  Signac.   In  a  newfound  market  with  opportunities  to  sell   avant-­‐garde   art   in   solo   gallery   or   collective   exhibitions,   Van   Gogh   developed   opportunities  to  mount  exhibitions  for  his  new  works  and  those  of  the  artists  he  met   in  the  capital.                               68   CHAPTER  3:  NEW  CONSIDERATION  OF  VAN  GOGH’S  PARIS  EXHIBITIONS       “What  regards  my  chances  of  sale,  look  here,  they  are  certainly  not  much  but   still   I   do   have   a   beginning,”   Van   Gogh   wrote   to   painter   Horace   Mann   Livens   regarding   the   state   of   the   market   for   an   emerging   artist   in   Paris.119  Although   the   prices  of  works  by  unknown  artists  were  low  (50  francs),  Van  Gogh  saw  potential:   “[It’s]  certainly  not  much  but—as  far  as  I  can  see  one  must  sell  cheap  to  rise,  and   even  at  costing  price....Paris  is  Paris,  there  is  but  one  Paris  and  however  hard  living   may  be  here  and  if  it  became  worse  and  harder  even—the  french  [sic]  air  clears  up   the  brain  and  does  one  good—a  world  of  good.”120  At  this  time,  Van  Gogh  had  lived   in   Paris   for   about   seven   or   eight   months,   and   with   enthusiasm   and   new   artistic   connections,  he  was  determined  to  establish  himself  in  the  Parisian  market.     In  1887,  after  living  in  Paris  for  a  year,  Van  Gogh  began  organizing  exhibitions   about   which   little   is   known,   except   that   they   were   not   successful   in   terms   of   attendance,  sales,  and  press.121  He  staged  three  exhibitions:  one  of  Japanese  prints                                                                                                                   119  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  569  to  Horace  Mann  Livens  (a  Dutch  painter)  from  Paris  in  September  or   October   1886.   “At   this   present   moment   I   have   found   four   dealers   who   have   exhibited   studies   of   mine.  And  I  have  exchanged  studies  with  several  artists….  Now  the  prices  are  50  Francs.”   120  Letter  569  to  Livens.   121  On  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  exhibitions:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  640  to  Théo  from  Arles  around  Monday,   May  14,  1888:  “When  I  was  in  Paris  I  always  hoped  to  have  a  showroom  of  my  own  in  a  café;  you   know  that  that  fell  through.  The  exhibition  of  Japanese  prints  that  I  had  at  the  Tambourin  had  quite   an   influence   on   Anquetin   and   Bernard,   but   it   was   such   a   disaster.   For   the   2nd   exhibition   at   the   showroom  of  the  boul.  de  Clichy,  I  have  fewer  regrets  about  the  time  and  effort.  Bernard  having  sold   his  first  painting  there,  Anquetin  having  sold  a  study  there,  and  I  having  made  the  exchange  with         69   he   and   Théo   collected   and   another   of   his   flower   still   lifes   both   at   the   Café   Tambourin,  and  a  collective  show  at  the  Grand  Bouillon,  Restaurant  du  Châlet.  He   also  included  his  work  in  the  Théâtre  Libra  d’Antoine  alongside  avant-­‐garde  artists.   Overall,   scholars   note   that   Van   Gogh’s   goal   to   exhibit   in   places   such   as   the   Café   Tambourin  and  Grand  Bouillon  was  his  way  of  entering  into  the  Parisian  market,  but   in  establishments  befitting  an  unknown  and  lower-­‐class  artist.  122  For  a  painter  in  a   new  city,  the  venues  were  first  attempts  at  exhibiting,  but  were  not  on  par  with  the   gallery   space   of   the   last   Impressionist   exhibition,   for   instance.   The   avant-­‐garde   approach  to  painting  Van  Gogh  took  and  the  venues  in  which  the  work  hung  were  at   odds—the   restaurant   and   café   patrons   remained   unmoved   or   unaware   of   the   emerging  artistic  ideals.123  Nevertheless,  scholars  note  the  exhibitions  in  discussions   of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  period  because  they  show  the  artist’s  first,  albeit  unsuccessful,   attempts  at  becoming  a  marketable  artist  within  a  modernist  realm.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                 Gauguin,   we   all   got   something.   If   Gauguin   were   willing   we   could   do   a   Marseille   exhibition   all   the   same.  But  better  not  rely  any  more  on  the  people  of  Marseille  than  on  Paris.”  See  also:  Steven  Naifeh   and  Gregory  White  Smith,  Van  Gogh:  The  Life  (New  York:  Random  House,  2011)  552-­‐553.     122  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period,  1886-­‐1888  (Den  Haag  and  Utrecht:   Editions  Victorine,  1976)  36-­‐37.  This  is  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  dissertation,  completed  at  the  University  of   Toronto  in  1976.  Cornelia  Homburg,  “Vincent  van  Gogh’s  Avant  Garde  Strategies,”  Vincent  van  Gogh   and   the   Painters   of   the   Petit   Boulevard   (Saint   Louis:   Saint   Louis   Museum,   2001)   26,   32.   Richard   Thomson,  “The  Cultural  Geography  of  the  Petit  Boulevard,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  Painters  of  the   Petit  Boulevard,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Museum,  2001)  81.  Andreas  Blühm,   “Displaying   Van   Gogh,   1886-­‐1999,”   Van   Gogh   Museum   Journal   (1999):   67-­‐68.   http://www.dbnl.org/tekst/_van012199901_01/_van012199901_01_0007.php.   Carol   Zemel,   Van   Gogh’s   Progress:   Utopian,   Modernity,   and   Late   Nineteenth-­‐Century   Art   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:  University  of  California  Press,  1997)  185-­‐187.   123  Zemel  188-­‐189.           70   Since  Van  Gogh  wrote  few  letters  while  in  the  capital,  the  exhibitions  reveal   the   artists   with   whom   the   painter   had   contact   in   Paris’s   emerging   artistic   community,  namely  Émile  Bernard  and  Paul  Signac.  Van  Gogh  included  Bernard  and   Signac  in  the  Grand  Bouillon,  both  of  whom  had  been  developing  their  techniques   during  the  mid-­‐1880s,  but  had  yet  to  find  their  respective  painterly  voices.  Signac,   for   example,   had   shown   in   the   last   Impressionist   exhibition,   8me   Exposition   de   peinture,   in   1886   making   imagery   closely   related   to   the   forbearers.   In   1887,   Van   Gogh,  Bernard,  and  Signac  emerged  stylistically  and  entered  into  a  unique  modernist   artistic  dialogue  that  led  toward  Symbolism.  Significantly,  Ovcharov-­‐Welsh  highlights   the  importance  of  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  as  a  body  of  work  that  established   artists  who  were  learning  from  the  Impressionists  but  moving  toward  a  Symbolist   aesthetic.124  Though   not   held   in   a   reputable   venue,   I   think   that   the   exhibition   is   more   historically   significant   than   has   previously   been   noted.   My   consideration   of   Van   Gogh’s   exhibition   strategies   reveals   the   symbolic   modes   of   painting   and   conceptual  ideals  Van  Gogh  developed  in  his  own  work  and  sought  in  fellow  artists.   Although   it   is   not   clear   exactly   what   paintings   the   artist   selected   for   the   Grand   Bouillon,  the  work  of  the  artists  exhibiting  in  1886  and  1887,  particularly  Bernard’s   and  Signac’s  canvases,  explore  the  overlapping  qualities  between  Impressionism  and                                                                                                                   124  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period  38.  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à   Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988)  20.         71   Neo-­‐Impressionism   as   Van   Gogh,   Bernard,   and   Signac   moved   toward   a   symbolic   painterly  rhetoric.     Moreover,  I  interpret  the  shift  in  Van  Gogh’s  work  from  the  mimetic  to  the   symbolic  within  the  aesthetic  contributions  of  critic  Félix  Fénéon.  The  critic  defined   “Néo-­‐impressionnisme”   in   response   to   the   last   Impressionist   Exhibition   where   Seurat  announced  the  new  pointillist  technique  with  Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island   of   La   Grande   Jatte   (1884-­‐1886).   John   Rewald   and   Joan   Ungersma   Halperin   acknowledge   Van   Gogh’s   awareness   of   Fénéon’s   criticism,   and   Halperin   traces   Fénéon’s  alignment  with  Symbolism  in  1886,  but  neither  attribute  the  critic’s  ideas   to  Van  Gogh’s  new-­‐found  understanding  of  symbolic  use  of  color,  line,  and  form.125   This  omission  suppresses  the  Symbolist  ideals  to  which  Van  Gogh  had  direct  access   in  Paris.     In  1886,  on  the  heels  of  the  Impressionist  exhibition,  Fénéon  wrote  “Le  Néo-­‐ impressionnisme”  and  provided  a  formula  (so  to  speak)  to  paint  with  the  pointillist   dot.  While  Fénéon’s  ideals  are  connected  to  Seurat’s  methods,  I  find  that  the  critic’s   texts   also   provided   Van   Gogh   with   the   notion   that   the   canvas   was   to   generate   a   sensorial   experience   for   the   viewer,   an   important   aspect   of   Symbolism.   Fénéon’s                                                                                                                   125  John   Rewald,   “Félix   Fénéon,   critique   d’art,”   26   no.   3   (March   1950):   67-­‐71.   John   Rewald,   Post-­‐ Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin,  3rd  ed.  (Boston:  New  York  Graphic  Society,  1978)  87-­‐93,   136-­‐138.   Joan   Ungersma   Halperin,   Félix   Fénéon:   Aesthete   &   Anarchist   in   Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle   Paris   (New   Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1988)  57-­‐69,  89,  115.         72   critical  accounts  privilege  the  sensation  the  canvas  conveyed  rather  than  serving  as  a   descriptive  study,  a  foundational  difference  between  Van  Gogh’s  earlier  works  from   the   Netherlands   and   those   of   his   Paris   period.   The   critic   also   underscored   a   theoretical   structure   that   laid   the   groundwork   for   symbolic   imagery   through   experimentation   with   both   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism.     In   Paris,   Van   Gogh  did  not  transition  from  Impressionism  to  Neo-­‐Impressionism  chronologically,   but   experimented   with   elements   from   both   groups   of   artists   simultaneously   to   develop  a  unique  pictorial  vocabulary.     The  Exhibitions   The  first  exhibition  in  February  and  March  1887  included  Vincent  and  Théo’s   Japanese  woodblock-­‐print  collection  in  Agostina  Segatori’s  Café  Tambourin,  located   in  Montmartre  at  62  Boulevard  de  Clichy  close  to  the  brothers’  rue  Lepic  apartment   [figures   1-­‐3].126  The   Japanese   prints   are   well   documented,   unlike   the   subsequent   collections   of   the   artist’s   work   exhibited   in   Paris.127  The   Tambourin   Exhibition   of                                                                                                                   126  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  Van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period  36-­‐37.  See  also:  Zemel  185-­‐187.     127  Van  Gogh  began  studying  Japanese  prints  before  arriving  in  Paris.  When  he  was  living  in  Antwerp,   he  wrote  to  Théo  on  Saturday,  November  28,  1885  (letter  545),  which  is  the  first  instance  the  painter   referenced  Japanese  prints  (see  note  3).  Vincent  told  Théo  that  he  hung  Japanese  prints  on  the  wall   of  his  studio,  which  made  the  space  “tolerable.”  And,  he  told  Théo  about  a  morning  walk  near  the   docks   of   Antwerp.   He   compared   the   docks   and   landscape   to   Japonaiserie.   He   had   read   Jules   de   Goncourt’s  Maîtres  et  petits  maîtres  (1877)  and  quoted  the  novel-­‐-­‐“Japonaiserie  for  ever!”—when   describing   the   “fantastic,   singular,   strange”   Antwerp   wharves.   On   the   exhibition   see:   Welsh-­‐ Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  86.  On  the  influence  of  Japanese  prints  (Japonisme)  in  relation  to  Van         73   Japanese  prints  had,  in  Van  Gogh’s  words,  “quite  an  influence”  on  painters  Bernard   and   Louis   Anquetin.128  Through   the   formal   influence   of   Japanese   prints   and   the   conceptual   ideals   of   literary   Symbolism,   Bernard   and   Anquetin   developed   Cloisonism,   a   painting   style   that   set   off   flat   monochromatic   shapes   with   bold   outlines.129  During  the  time  of  the  exhibition,  the  café  proprietor  sat  for  the  artist,   and  in  the  painting  a  Japanese  scroll  with  two  female  figures  is  faintly  visible  on  the   right-­‐hand   side   [figure   4].   That   summer,   amid   some   personal   strife   with   Segatori   with  whom  Van  Gogh  may  have  had  a  romantic  relationship,  he  mounted  another   exhibition  at  the  Café  Tambourin  of  his  own  works.  In  exchange  for  meals  and  in  a   gesture  of  courtship,  Van  Gogh  gave  Segatori  flower  still  lifes  that  covered  the  café’s   walls.  In  the  café,  Van  Gogh  may  have  exhibited  Basket  of  Pansies  (1886)  [figure  5],  a   painting  of  flowers  in  somewhat  muted  colors  spilling  out  of  a  basket  resting  on  a   table-­‐top  made  from  a  tambourine,  one  smaller  but  similar  to  the  table  on  which                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Gogh’s  work  see:  Mark  Roskill,  “The  Japanese  Print  and  French  Painting   in  the  1880s,”  Van  Gogh,   Gauguin   and   the   Impressionist   Circle   (London:   Thames   and   Hudson,   1970)   57-­‐85.   See   also:   Fred   Orton,  “Vincent’s  Interest  in  Japanese  Prints,”  Vincent:  Bulletin  of  the  Rijksmuseum,  Vincent  van  Gogh   1  no.  3  (1971):  2-­‐32.  Tsukasa  Kōdera,  “Van  Gogh’s  Utopian  Japonisme,”  Catalogue  of  the  Van  Gogh   Museum’s   Collection   of   Japanese   Prints   (Zwolle:   Waanders   Publishers,   1991)   11-­‐46.   Axel   Rüger,   “Vincent  Van  Gogh  and  Japan,”  Japonisme  and  the  Rise  of  the  Modern  Art  Movement:  The  Arts  of  the   Menji   Period,   ed.   Gregory   Irvine   (New   York,   New   York:   Thames   and   Hudson,   2013)   13-­‐15.   Kris   Schiermeier,   “Imitation   or   Innovation?”   Van   Gogh’s   Japonaiserie   and   Japanese   Art   of   the   Menji   Period,”   Japonisme   and   the   Rise   of   the   Modern   Art   Movement:   The   Arts   of   the   Menji   Period,   ed.   Gregory  Irvine  (New  York,  New  York:  Thames  and  Hudson,  2013)  140-­‐165.     128  On  Segatori:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letters  571  and  572  to  Théo  from  Paris   in   late  July  1887.   I  quote   directly  from  letter  640.  See  also:  Homburg  26,  32.     129  Roskill  106.   See  also:  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Birth  of  Cloisonism.   (Toronto,  Canada:  Art  Gallery  of  Toronto  and  Musée  des  Beaux-­‐Arts  de  L’ontario,  1981).         74   Segatori   rests   her   arms.130  Bernard,   the   main   source   of   information   about   Van   Gogh’s  Paris  exhibitions,  noted  that  Van  Gogh  hung  flower  still  lifes  to  decorate  the   café,   similar   to   Fritillaires,   couronne   impériale   dans   un   vase   de   cuivre   (April-­‐May   1887),   in  which  he  explored  the  then-­‐new  pointillist  technique  in  the  background   [figure  6].131     The   largest   show   Van   Gogh   organized   took   place   in   November   1887.   The   artist   curated   and   mounted   an   exhibition   at   the   popular   Grand   Bouillon   at   43   Avenue  de  Clichy  in  Montmartre,  also  not  far  from  the  brothers’  apartment.132  The   Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  was  like  those  held  in  Paris  during  1886  and  1887,  such  as   the   8me   Exposition   de   peinture   or   the   two   Société   des   Artistes   Indépendants   installations,   in   which   Camille   Pissarro,   Seurat,   and   Signac   participated.   Likewise,                                                                                                                   130  See  letter  572,  note  3.  Van  Gogh  wrote  this  letter  while  living  in  Paris  to  Théo  sometime  around   July  23  thru  the  25,  1887.  See  also:  Émile  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  (November-­‐ December  1908)  in  Van  Gogh:  A  Retrospective,  ed.  Susan  Alyson  Stein  (New  York:  Hugh  Lauter  Levin   Associates,  Inc.,  1986)  93.  Originally  published  in  the  Mercure  de  France,  November-­‐December  1908.   “It  was  about  this  time  that  Vincent  frequented  a  tavern  called  Le  Tambourin,  owned  by  an  extremely   beautiful  Italian  woman,  a  former  model,  who  let  sprawl  her  robust  and  imposing  charms  onto  a  bar-­‐ top  she  made  exclusively  hers.  Vincent  agreed  to  do  several  paintings  a  week  for  Le  Tambourin  in   exchange  for  meals.  He  wound  up  covering  the  large  walls  of  the  establishment  with  his  studies.  They   were  mostly  flower  studies,  and  there  were  some  excellent  ones.  This  went  on  for  a  few  months;   then  the  place  went  to  ruin,  was  sold,  and  all  the  paintings  in  a  pile,  were  sold  off  for  a  laughable   sum.”   131  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  118.  See  also:  Van  Gogh’s   letter  number  571,  note  3.  Émile   Bernard,  “Les  Peintres  Impressionnists:  Vincent  Van  Gogh,”  Emile  Bernard,  1868-­‐1941:  A  Pioneer  of   Modern  Art,  ed.  Mary  Anne  Stevens  (Zwolle:  Waanders  Publishers,  1990)  382-­‐383.     132  Blühm  67.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  Van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period  38-­‐40  and  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  19-­‐20.   Homburg   32.   Thomson   80-­‐81.   Zemel   187-­‐189.   Part   of   Bernard’s   account   of   the   Grand   Bouillon   Exhibition  can  be  found  in  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.           75   Van   Gogh   aimed   to   draw   together   a   large,   multi-­‐faceted   body   of   work   from   a   number   of   artists   with   whom   he   connected   in   Paris,   an   ambitious   and   important   event  for  the  emerging  painter.133  The  proprietor,  Monsieur  Martin  [figure  7],  gave   Van  Gogh  a  large  dining-­‐room  space  in  which  to  hold  the  exhibition.  At  this  time,   Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Bernard  explaining  that  he  aimed  to  do  what  he  could  to  make   the   exhibition   a   success.134  He   attempted   to   bring   together   a   collective   of   artists   who  could  work  towards  a  common  goal  of  exhibiting  for  the  sake  of  the  group  and   put   aside   “petty   jealousies.”135  Despite   Van   Gogh’s   intention   to   orchestrate   the   images  of  a  community  of  artists  he  hoped  to  support,  the  restaurant  patrons  did   not   receive   the   painter’s   efforts   openly.     According   to   Bernard,   they   “were   somewhat  horrified”  and  a  “little  disconcerted”  by  the  “forbidding  aspect[s]”  of  the   paintings.136  Unfortunately,  Van  Gogh  had  an  argument  with  Monsieur  Martin,  and                                                                                                                   133  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  Van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period  218-­‐223.  In  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  appendix,  she   provides  a  list  of  exhibitions  concurrent  with  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  stay.     134  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  575  to  Bernard  while  in  Paris  in  December  1887,  probably  shortly  after  the   Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  ended.  “I’ll  gladly  do  all  I  can  to  make  a  success  of  what  was  started  in  the   dining-­‐room,  but  I  believe  that  the  first  condition  for  success  is  to  put  aside  petty  jealousies;  it’s  only   unity  that  makes  strength.  It’s  well  worth  sacrificing  selfishness,  the  ‘each  man  for  himself,’   in  the   common  interest.”   135  Letter  575.     136  Bernard  quoted  in  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.             76   subsequently  ended  up  angrily  hauling  all  of  the  paintings  away  in  a  wheelbarrow  to   his  apartment  on  the  rue  Lepic.137     Although  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  ended  abruptly  and  neither  garnered   criticism  nor  had  an  accompanying  catalog,  the  artists  Van  Gogh  included  represent   the  artistic  avant-­‐garde  developing  after  the  last  Impressionist  exhibition:  Bernard,   Signac,  Anquentin,  Henri  Toulouse-­‐Lautrec,  Harold  H.  Koning,  and  (perhaps)  Armand   Guillaumin.  Together  they  exhibited  over  fifty  paintings,  such  as  Bernard’s  Portrait  of   the   Artist’s   Grandmother   (1887)   and   Ragpickers   at   Clichy   (1887)   [figures   8   &   9],   Anquetin’s  Boat  at  Sunset,  Lautrec’s  paintings  of  prostitutes,  and  Koning’s  apple  still   lifes.138  Pissarro,  Seurat,  and  Paul  Gauguin  (who  had  just  returned  from  Martinique   in  November)  saw  these  images  when  they  each  visited  the  exhibition,  which  was,   Bernard  wrote,  “by  far  the  most  advanced  thing  in  Paris.”139  The  event  was  also  the                                                                                                                   137  Bernard  quoted  in  Van  Gogh’s   letter  575,  note  9.  Bernard  wrote  about  the  dining  room  of  the   Grand  Bouillon  exhibition  and  referred  to  the  altercation  between  Van  Gogh  and  Monsieur  Martin:   “The  room  referred  to  here  is  the  dining-­‐room  of  a  working-­‐class  restaurant  on  avenue  de  Clichy,   whose  owner  Vincent  had  won  over,  and  which  he  had  turned  into  an  exhibition  of  our  paintings.   Unfortunately,   this   socialist   exhibition   of   our   inflammatory   canvases   came   to   a   rather   sorry   end.   There  was  a  violent  altercation  between  the  owner  and  Vincent,  which  made  Vincent  decide  to  take  a   hand-­‐barrow  without  delay  and  cart  the  whole  exhibition  to  his  studio  in  rue  Lepic.  Obviously,  the  art   of  the  Petit  Boulevard  had  not  been  understood  by  its  Barnum.”   138  Bernard  quoted  in  Zemel  188.  See  Zemel,  chapter  five,  notes  44,  45  and  48  (pages  272-­‐273).  On   Bernard’s  Ragpickers  at  Clichy,  see:  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  200-­‐201.  On  the  number  of   paintings  exhibited,  see  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  33.     139  Bernard  quoted  in  Zemel  188.  See  also:  Ronald  Pickvance,  Van  Gogh  (Martigny  Suisse:  Foundation   Pierre  Gianadda,  2000)  75.             77   first  time  Van  Gogh  met  Seurat.  The  pointillist  artist  recalled  first  meeting  the  Dutch   painter  at  the  Grand  Bouillon,  “a  working-­‐class  restaurant  located  near  la  Fourche,   avenue  de  Clichy…[in]  an  immense  sky-­‐lighted  hall…decorated  with  his  canvases.”140   Van   Gogh   himself   included   flower   still   lifes   and   landscapes   from   Clichy   and   Asnières.141  Bernard   identified   three   paintings   Van   Gogh   exhibited,   Factories   at   Clichy  (1887),  The  Factory  at  Clichy  (1887),  and  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy  (fall  1887)   [figures  10-­‐12].142  For  Bernard,  Van  Gogh’s  works  were  the  most  prominent  of  the   exhibition,   conveying   a   “joyful,   vibrant,   harmonious   impression.”   143  Bernard’s   comment  suggests  that  Van  Gogh  was  developing  the  early  patterns  of  his  Arlesian   imagery.   Vincent  wrote  to  his  sister  Willemien  (Wil)  about  images  similar  to  the  flower   still   lifes   exhibited   in   the   Café   Tambourin   and   the   landscapes   and   portrait   in   the   Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition:   Last  summer,   I  painted  almost  nothing  but  flowers  to  accustom   myself   to   a   colour   other   than   grey,   that’s   to   say   pink,   soft   or                                                                                                                   140  Letter  from  Georges  Seurat  to  Maurice  Beaubourg,  Paris,  28  August  1890,  in  Stein  90.     141  Bernard   quoted   in   Stevens   382-­‐383.   Bernard   quoted   in   Zemel   188.   Bernard   quoted   in   Rewald,   Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.     142  Bernard   quoted   in   Stevens   382.   Ronald   Dorn,   “The   Artistic   Reception   of   Vincent   van   Gogh’s   Work—Prologue,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Modern  Movement,  1890-­‐1914  (Amsterdam:  Van  Gogh   Museum,  1990)  189.     143  Bernard  quoted  in  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.             78   bright  green,  light  blue,  violet,  yellow,  orange,  fine  red.  And  when   I   painted   the   landscapes   in   Asnières   this   summer   I   saw   more   colour  in  it  than  before.  I’m  studying  this  now  in  portraits.144       “Last  summer”  refers  to  Van  Gogh’s  first  summer  in  Paris  when  he  was  first  exposed   to   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐Impressionists.   He   used   flowers   to   practice   using   color  and  then  did  so  with  more  complex  subjects  that  may  not  lend  themselves  to   saturated   hue,   such   as   portraiture   and   landscape.   One   of   the   portraits   he   was   working  on  at  the  time  for  the  Grand  Bouillon  was  of  Julien  Tanguy,  known  as  Père   Tanguy,  a  well-­‐known  Paris  paint-­‐store  owner  who  sold  paint  to  Claude  Monet  and   Pierre-­‐Auguste  Renoir,  championed  Paul  Cézanne,  and  who  let  Van  Gogh  hang  his   paintings  in  the  shop.  A  great  source  of  artistic  inspiration,  the  shop,  Boutique  du   Père   Tanguy   located   in   Montmartre,   was   a   place   Van   Gogh   frequented   often   to   discuss   painting   concepts. 145  Van   Gogh   also   hung   work   at   the   Théâtre   Libra   d’Antoine  at  96  rue  Blanche  in  Montmartre  sometime  during  the  winter  of  1887-­‐                                                                                                                 144  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  574  to  his  sister  Wil  from  Paris  in  late  October  1887.     145  Charles   Angrand   in   Conversation   in   Stein   89.   Angrand   was   a   painter   associated   with   the   Neo-­‐ Impressionists  during  the  time  Van  Gogh  lived  in  Paris.  “About  Van  Gogh  I  have  very  few  memories.   Without  a  doubt,  we  found  ourselves  sometimes  at  père  Tanguy’s;  but  what  has  most  remained  in   my  memory  is  the  visit  he  paid  me  at  the  end  of  one  November  at  the  Collège  Chaptal.  I  could  meet   him  only  at  the  café.  I  remember  that  he  didn’t  want  to  drink  anything.  He  came  above  all  to  make  an   exchange,  an  instance,  I  believe  of  his  mania.  I  had  at  père  Tanguy’s  then  a  thickly  painted  canvas  of  a   woman  followed  by  chickens.  Had  he  been  seduced  by  the  impasto?  A  little  later,  he  had  to  leave   Paris.  Anyway,  we  didn’t  stay  in  contact.  I  knew  his  brother  better  than  him.”           79   1888.  Seurat  and  Signac  also  included  works  at  the  Théâtre  Libra.146  Although  there   is   little  surviving  evidence,  Van  Gogh  exhibited  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  at  Asnières   [figure  13].     Together  the  paintings  Vincent  exhibited  in  Paris  exemplify  the  rapid  change   his  work  underwent  in  1887,  from,  as  he  noted  to  Wil,  grey  to  robust  color  and  from   the   descriptive   to   the   symbolic.   Although   Van   Gogh’s,   Bernard’s,   and   Signac’s   respective  canvases  are  distinct,  the  emerging  painters  conceived  of  the  relationship   among   the   artist,   canvas,   and   viewer   similarly.   In   1886,   the   artists   had   varying   contact  with  the  Impressionist  artists  and  with  each  other.  By  1887  they  developed   into   a   group   of   artists   who   highlighted   the   discord   between   the   image   and   the   natural   world   from   which   they   derived   their   subject   matter,   approaching   their   respective  art-­‐making  processes  by  acknowledging  a  disassociation  between  nature   and  the  image’s  form.  In  this  way,  they  generated  a  participant-­‐canvas  relationship   that  privileged  the  image  as  a  subjective  creation,  emphasizing  its  artifice.  Although   their  subjects  were  often  nature  or  their  surrounding  environments,  they  depicted   highly  individual  interpretations  that  relied  on  their  imaginations.  For  example,  their   canvases   depicting   factory   landscapes   became   a   conceptually   visual   paradox   because  the  subject  matter  was  the  means  to  experiment  with  medium  and  form,   not  to  render  the  sunlight’s  effects  or  the  smokestack’s  plume.  To  them,  the  canvas                                                                                                                   146  Blühm  67.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  104.  Thomson  80.         80   was  a  visual  field  that  provided  a  catalytic  response  between  the  participant  and  the   artist,  one  that  privileged  a  contemplative  gaze  to  engage  the  viewer’s  imagination.  I   explore  the  lineage  of  this  painterly  concept  through  Édouard  Manet  and  Pissarro,   painters   who   influenced   the   critical   lexicon   and,   in   Pissarro’s   case,   the   emerging   painters  directly.  Pissarro  also  worked  closely  with  Fénéon  to  craft  the  ideals  of  Neo-­‐ Impressionism.   Thus,   I   also   consider   the   symbolic   methods   Fénéon’s   criticism   espouses  to  a  generation  of  up-­‐and-­‐coming  artists,  such  as  Van  Gogh,  Bernard,  and   Signac.  For  them,  the  critic  addressed  the  formal  and  conceptual  ways  in  which  a   painter  could  subordinate  mimetic  rendering  to  focus  on  the  artist’s  unique  ideation   of  the  material  world  to  convey  an  experience  symbolically.  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period   imagery,   particularly   the   canvases   he   included   in   exhibitions,   conceptually   emphasize  the  artist’s  vision.       Manet’s  and  Pissarro’s  Influence   Underscoring   what   the   viewer   understood   as   reality   and   what   the   painter   subjectively   translated   had   been   a   concept   in   painting   practice   since   the   early   nineteenth   century,   finding   precedent   in   Jacques-­‐Louis   David’s   imagery.   TJ   Clark   defines  David’s  modernism  with  the  painter’s  Death  of  Marat  (1793),  arguing  that   Marat  is  fundamentally  modernist  because  it  challenged  the  boundary  between  the   subject  (what  is  mimetically  depicted  in  the  literal  sense)  and  the  visual  (the  painting         81   in  a  transformative  sense).147  Marat,  for  instance,  is  holding  a  letter;  but  he  is  dead,   so  how  can  his  fingers  grasp?  With  Marat,  David  raised  important  questions  with   which  nineteenth-­‐century  painters  grappled:  is  it  possible  to,  in  Clark’s  words,  “say   what  we  are  looking  at,  or  see  what  we  are  saying?”148     Creating  an  image  that  intentionally  highlighted  the  painting  as  a  fiction  of   reality,  one  that  was  based  on  the  artist’s  idiosyncratic  vision  that  had  an  effect  on   the  viewer’s  imagination  is  a  modernist  concept  that  finds  further  roots  in  the  work   of  Manet.  Michael  Fried  characterized  Henri  Fantain-­‐Latour,  James  McNeill  Whistler,   Alphonse   Legros,   and   Manet   as   the   generation   of   1863.149  Fantain-­‐Latour   paid   respect   to   their   generation’s   roots   in   Homage   to   Delacroix   (1864).   Fried   finds   a   common  link  among  the  painters:  their  canvases  mark  a  shift  in  the  beholder-­‐canvas   relationship.   Rather   than   create   imagery   that   is,   to   use   Fried’s   term,   absorptive,   figures   in   paintings   acknowledged   the   spectator’s   gaze.   Significantly,   Manet   subverted  seemingly  absorptive  subject  matter.  Manet’s  modernism  was  not  solely   due  to  his  choice  of  subject  matter  and  evident  facture  but  more  so  to  his  ability  to   construct  an  image  that,  although  it  may  include  a  figure  staring  directly  out  at  the                                                                                                                   147  TJ  Clark,  “Painting   in  the  Year  2,”  Farewell  to  an  Idea  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University   Press,  1999)  42.   148  Clark  42.     149  Michael  Fried,  “Manet  in  His  Generation:  The  Face  of  Painting  in  the  1860s,”  Critical  Inquiry  19.1   (Autumn  1992):  22-­‐69.         82   viewer,   could,   in   Fried’s   words,   read   as   “a   single   instantaneously   apprehensible   facing  entity…to  compel  the  beholder  to  take  it  in  as  a  whole,  a  single  intense  facing   object  of  vision.”150  This  is  an  aim  the  Impressionists  made  effective.     Stéphane  Mallarmé’s  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet”  (1874)  hailed   Manet   as   the   forerunner   of   the   Impressionists,   arguing   that   the   artist   based   his   paintings  upon  “a  new  creation  of  the  mind…the  eye  should  forget  all  else   it  has   seen,  and  learn  anew  from  the  lesson  before  it.”151  The  eye,  Mallarmé  continued,   “should  abstract  itself  from  memory,  seeing  only  that  which  it  looks  upon,  and  that   for  the  first  time;  and  the  hand  should  become  an  impersonal  abstraction  guided   only   by   the   will.”152  For   Mallarmé,   Manet   was   a   painter   whose   imagery   operated   “outside   mere   Realism”   to   strike   a   visual   dichotomy   between   what   the   viewer   is   looking  at,  the  painting,  and  real  life.153  Manet’s  contemporary  critics,  such  as  Émile   Zola,  also  considered  the  notion  of  constructing  a  canvas  as  a  manifestation  of  the   artist’s  inner  mind.  In  Zola’s  defense  of  Manet’s  work,  Mon  Salon  (1866),  he  argued   that  there  is  not  a  fixed,  canonical  sense  of  beauty  and  that  the  term  “realist”  held                                                                                                                   150  Fried,  “Manet  in  His  Generation”  61,  60.   151  Stéphane  Mallarmé,  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet,”  The  New  Painting:  Impressionism,   1874-­‐1876,  ed.  Charles  S.  Moffett  (San  Francisco,  The  Fine  Arts  Museum,  1986)  29.   152  Mallarmé,  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet”  29.   153  Mallarmé,  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet”  29.           83   no   significance   for   him.   Rather,   a   successful   work   of   art   depends   on   the   artist’s   subjective  perspective,  writing:     I   want   something   alive,   I   want   a   new   creation,   previously   unknown,  true  to  the  artist’s  own  eyes  and  temperament.  What  I   seek  above  all  in  the  painting  is  the  man  and  not  the  painting.       There  are,  in  my  opinion,  two  elements  in  a  work:  the  element  of   reality,   which   is   nature,   and   the   personal   element,   which   is   man.154       He   emphasized   that   Manet   painted   in   a   higher   tone   than   those   found   in   nature,   evidence  of  the  painter’s  artistic  temperament.155     Zola’s   use   of   the   word   temperament   did   not   have   to   do   with   the   artist’s   emotional  life,  but  the  painter’s  artistic  proclivities.  Ultimately,  Zola  argued  that  an   artist   needed   to   reinvent   Nature   in   his   own   temperament,   an   important   idea   regarding  the  notion  of  subjectivity  in  the  Impressionist  aesthetic.  For  Mallarmé  and   Zola,  the  role  of  the  artist  is  two-­‐fold:  first,  to  see  Nature  not  as  it  is,  but  as  an  artist   could  use  it  to  inventively  craft  an  image  in  accordance  to  the  imagination,  not  to   reality;  and  second,  to  provide  the  spectator  an  opportunity  to  observe  not  a  lived   reality   through   the   eyes   of   an   artist,   but   rather   a   reality   that   only   existed   in   the                                                                                                                   154  Émile  Zola,  “Mon  Salon,”  Art  in  Theory:  1815-­‐1900:  An  Anthology  of  Changing  Ideas,  eds.  Charles   Harrison,   Paul   Wood   and   Jason   Gaiger   (Massachusetts,   Oxford   and   Victoria,   Australia:   Blackwell   Publishing,  1998)  552.     155  Émile  Zola,  “A  New  Manner  in  Painting:  Édouard  Manet,”  Art  in  Theory:  1815-­‐1900:  An  Anthology   of  Changing  Ideas,  eds.  Charles  Harrison,  Paul  Wood  and  Jason  Gaiger  (Massachusetts,  Oxford  and   Victoria,  Australia:  Blackwell  Publishing,  1998)  559.         84   language  of  expression,  the  medium  of  explication,  and  a  form  perceptible  senses.156     The  modernist  notion  of  reality  explored  through  Zola  and  Mallarmé  emphasized  the   divergence   from   depicting   Nature   toward   an   ability   to   participate   in   a   canvas   investigating  and  revealing  the  experimentation  of  a  painting’s  construction  and  its   process,   one   that   grew   from   the   artist’s   temperament,   his   unique   lens.   Manet’s   imagery   recognizes   the   visual   dichotomy   between   what   is   seen   and   how   it   is   depicted.  Some  of  the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists  addressed  the  visual   fissure   Manet   ironically   articulated   to   acknowledge   that   the   aim   of   their   imagery   was   to   intentionally   generate   a   discord   between   describing   the   subject   and   constructing  an  image.     In  1874  when  the  not-­‐yet-­‐named  Impressionists  sought  a  venue  outside  of   the  Salon  system,  Pissarro  wrote  the  initial  co-­‐op  post—a  Co-­‐operative  Joint  Stock   Company   of   Artists   in   Painting,   Sculpture,   etc.,   of   Paris—calling   for   interested   participants  to  apply  to  the  exhibition-­‐oriented  group.157  Pissarro  went  on  to  show  in   all   of   the   eight   exhibitions,   changing   his   technique   for   the   1886   exhibition   while   engaging  with  Seurat’s  pointillism.  In  1886,  Fénéon  relied  on  Pissarro  and  used  the                                                                                                                   156  Jean   Moréas,   “A   Literary   Manifesto—Symbolism   (1886),”   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans   and   ed,   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,   1994)   151.   When   noting   that   artists   generate   a   form   perceptible   to   the   senses,   I   am   paraphrasing  the  Symbolist  poet  Jean  Moréas.     157  Camille   Pissarro,   “A   Co-­‐operative   Joint   Stock   Company   of   Artists   in   Painting,   Sculpture,   ect.,   of   Paris,”  Art  in  Theory:  1815-­‐1900:  An  Anthology  of  Changing  Ideas,  eds.  Charles  Harrison,  Paul  Wood   and  Jason  Gaiger  (Massachusetts,  Oxford  and  Victoria,  Australia:  Blackwell  Publishing,  1998)  569-­‐571.         85   painter’s  break  in  technique  to  characterize  a  new  group,  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists,   which  was  built  on  the  Impressionist’s  analytic  approach.  In  his  Neo-­‐Impressionist   canvases,  Pissarro  blurred  the  boundary  between  what  we  see  and  what  we  know   we  can  see.  For  instance,  in  Camille  Pissarro’s  Apple-­‐Picking  (1886),  exhibited  in  the   1886  Impressionist  exhibition,  the  viewer   is  not   looking  at  what  can  be  rationally   described  as  apple  trees  in  an  expansive  field  [figure  14].  How  can  the  foreground   figure  merge  with  a  tree  that  appears  to  be  growing,  not  from  the  ground  the  figures   occupy,  but  from  a  space  before  the  canvas,  the  space  in  which  the  viewer  stands?  A   description  of  Apple  Pickers  would  diverge  from  an  explanation  of  what  one  would   perceive   before   a   field.   Pissarro   conceived   the   painting’s   composition   through   formal  devises,  not  by  depending  on  a  study  of  the  figures’  relationship  to  the  field.   In  Apple  Pickers  Pissarro  subverted  the  canvas’s  visual  interplay  between  an  actual   field  and  a  painting  of  a  field  to  assert  the  picture  plane  as  a  single  visual  object.   Apple  Pickers  is  a  field  literally  and  metaphorically.     In  1896  and  1897,  Louis  Le  Bail  worked  with  Pissarro  and  in  his  notes  wrote   down  some  of  Pissarro’s  advice  about  how  to  abstract  from  nature:     Look   for   the   kind   of   nature   that   suits   your   temperament.   The   motif   should   be   observed   more   for   shape   and   color   than   for   drawing.   There   is   no   need   to   tighten   the   form   which   can   be   obtained   without   that.   Precise   drawing   is   dry   and   hampers   the   impression  of  the  whole;  it  destroys  all  sensations.  Do  not  define   too  closely  the  outlines  of  things;  it  is  the  brush  stroke  of  the  right   value  and  color  which  should  produce  the  drawing.  In  a  mass,  the         86   greatest  difficulty  is  not  to  give  the  contour  in  detail,  but  to  paint   what  is  within.  Paint  the  essential  character  of  things,  try  to  convey   it   by   whatever   means   whatsoever,   without   bothering   about   technique….The  eye  should  not  be  fixed  on  one  point,  but  should   take  in  everything  while  observing  the  reflections  which  the  colors   produce  on  their  surroundings….Don’t  paint  according  to  rules  and   principles,  but  paint  what  you  observe  and  feel.…One  must  have   only  one  master—nature;  she  is  the  one  always  to  be  consulted.158     Written   a   decade   after   Neo-­‐Impressionism   developed,   Le   Bail’s   words   summarize   Pissarro’s  perspective,  include  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist’s  notion  of  the  picture  plane,   and   attest   to   the   artist’s   ability   to   rely   on   subjective   temperament.   For   Pissarro,   although  the   image  is  rooted  in  nature,   it   is  essential  that  the  artist  use  what  he   observed  to  subordinate  the  subject’s  mimetic  description  and  to  explore  the  canvas   as  an  optical  vehicle  of  form  separate  from  the  material  world.  The  goal  was  not  to   depict  a  focused  subject  situated  against  a  background,  but  to  consider  the  subject   as  the  painting’s  form.     Van  Gogh  and  the  emerging  artists  marked  an  important  paradigmatic  shift   and  grew  from  Impressionism  and  by  extension  David  and  Manet.  In  1886,  Paris  had   a  community  of  artists  who  were  grappling  with  the  distinction  between  depicting   what  could  be  seen  and  what  could  be  crafted  through  medium  and  form.  Due  to   avant-­‐garde   connections,   Van   Gogh   emerged   from   his   two-­‐year   stay   in   Paris   as   a                                                                                                                   158  Louis  Le  Bail,  “Pissarro’s  Advise  to  a  Young  Artist,”  Impressionism  and  Post-­‐Impressionism,  1874-­‐ 1904,  ed.  Linda  Nochlin  (Englewood  Cliffs,  New  Jersey:  Prentice-­‐Hall,  Inc.,  1966)  59-­‐60.  See  also:  John   Rewald,  The  History  of  Impressionism  (New  York:  The  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  1973)  458.         87   modernist  painter  who  had  studied  the  visual  effects  of  the  Impressionist  canvas  and   shaped  his  imagery  to  interact  with  nature  in  a  way  that  diverged  from  his  previous   work.   Bernard,   Signac,   and   Van   Gogh   developed   canvases   in   1886   and   1887   that   moved   markedly   from   the   depictions   of   nature   and   landscape   than   their   Impressionist   forerunners,   ideas   that   Pissarro   and   Fénéon   articulated   and   supported.       Félix  Fénéon   Fénéon   was   a   significant   writer   in   the   critical   lexicon   of   both   the   Parisian   literary  and  visual  arts  from  the  1880s  through  the  1890s.159  Pissarro  and  Fénéon   had  significant  voices  in  the  shift  from  Impressionism  to  Neo-­‐Impressionism  due  in   part  to  the  dialogue  surrounding  the  last  Impressionist  exhibition,  in  which  Fénéon   theorized   about   the   imagery   and   heralded   a   younger   generation   of   artists.  160   Pissarro  was  in  regular  contact  with  Vincent  and  Théo  during  the  former’s  stay  in   Paris.  Van  Gogh  also  met  Fénéon  in  Paris  when  the  writer  discussed  the  differing   visual   aspects   between   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   Lucien   Pissarro,                                                                                                                   159  Halperin,  Félix  Fénéon  5.  Fénéon  was  “so  active  in  the  Paris  literary  and  art  world  of  the  1880s  and   1890s  that  every  major  account  of  the  period  names  him  as  a  pivotal  figure.”   160  Martha  Ward,  Pissarro,  Neo-­‐Impressionism  and  the  Spaces  of  the  Avant-­‐Garde  (Chicago  &  London:   The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1995)  50-­‐59,  88-­‐97.             88   Camille   Pissarro’s   son   and   a   pointillist   painter   who   received   a   signed   copy   of   Fénéon’s   1887   essay   on   Neo-­‐Impressionism,   drew   a   picture   of   the   critic   and   Van   Gogh  talking  to  one  another  in  Paris  [figure  15].161  In  Lucien’s  image,  Fénéon  turns   to  speak  to  Van  Gogh,  who  in  turn  stares  ahead  pensively,  and  with  a  wrinkled  brow   and  crossed  arms  the  painter  ponders  the  critic’s  words.  The  critic  gazes  toward  Van   Gogh  who  looks  out  of  the  picture  plane,  as  if  perhaps  studying  the  modern  world   he  aimed  to  translate  on  canvas.  There  are  also  signs  of  the  relationship  between   the   Parisian   dandy   and   a   maker   of   paintings,   a   laborer   in   a   sense.   Van   Gogh’s   shoulders   are   slumped   and   he   wears   a   working-­‐class   hat   and   nondescript   jacket,   while   Fénéon   sits   regally   straight,   shoulders   back,   in   top   hat,   collar,   and   lapels.   Lucien  depicted  an  exchange  between  one  who  toils,  brush  to  canvas,  and  one  who   has   the   time   to   dress   well   and   who   seeks   pleasurable   imagery.   In   Charles   Baudelaire’s  words,  the  dandy  “has  no  other  occupation  than  the  perpetual  pursuit   of   happiness.”162  Lucien’s   drawing   conveys   the   critic   in   pursuit   and   the   influence   Fénéon’s  ideas  may  have  had  on  emerging  painters  like  Van  Gogh.  Van  Gogh  and   Fénéon’s  meeting  was  fortuitous  because  at  this  time  the  critic  was  in  the  midst  of                                                                                                                   161  Pissarro,  Letters,  85,  footnote  1.   162  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Painter  of  Modern  Life,”  The  Painter  of  Modern  Life  and  Other  Essays,   trans  and  ed.  Jonathan  Mayne  (London  and  New  York:  Phaidon  Press  Limited,  2001)  28-­‐29.           89   defining  how  Pissarro,  Signac,  and  Seurat  differed  from  the  Impressionists  when  Van   Gogh  was  planning  his  exhibitions.     A  regular  at  Mallarmé’s  Tuesday  Salon  since  1885,  Fénéon  was  perhaps  the   closest   critic   to   the   emerging   painters   and   had   interactions   with   avant-­‐garde   painters,   such   as   Monet,   Seurat,   Gauguin,   and   Pissarro.163  In   1886   he   founded   La   Vogue,  spearheaded  by  Gustave  Kahn  and  co-­‐founded  with  Charles  Henry  and  Jules   Laforgue,  and  he  had  a  direct  role  in  theorizing  the  significance  of  Seurat’s  pointillist   technique.164  Having  worked  with  many  central  figures  of  Impressionist,  Symbolist,   and   Post-­‐Impressionist   theory—Kahn,   Laforgue,   Pissarro,   Signac,   Seurat,   among   others—he  crafted  several  texts  that  gave  way  to  an  understanding  of  the  picture   plane  based  on  Impressionism  and  a  new-­‐found  curiosity  of  the  image-­‐participant   relationship,   namely   “Les   Impressionnistes   en   1886”   (published   in   La   Vogue   and   edited   by   Kahn)   and   “Le   Néo-­‐impressionnisme”   (published   in   L’art   moderne   de   Bruxelle   on   May   1,   1887),   in   which   he   defined   the   Neo-­‐Impressionist   studio   technique  and  conceptual  framework.165                                                                                                                     163  Félix  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme  (1887),”  Symbolist  Art  Theories:  A  Critical  Anthology,  trans   and  ed.  Henri  Dorra  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1994)  157.     164  Joan  Ungersma  Halperin,  “Catching  up  with  Seurat  and  the  Impressionists  in  1886,”  Félix  Fénéon:   Aesthete  &  Anarchist  in  Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle  Paris  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1988)  73-­‐ 91.     165  Félix  Fénéon,  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886”  and  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme,”  Félix  Fénéon:  Œuvres   plus  que  complètes,  ed.  Joan  Ungersma  Halperin  (Genève,  Switzerland:  Librairies  Droz,  S.A,  1970)  27-­‐ 38,  53-­‐58,  82-­‐85.  The  first  three  sections  of  Fénéon’s  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  is  translated  in  in         90   The  above-­‐mentioned  texts,  as  well  as  Pissarro  and  Fénéon’s  exchanges  over   the  years,  represent  the  points  of  view  they  passed  down  to  painters  coming  into   their  own  in  1886  and  1887,  Van  Gogh,  Bernard,  and  Signac  included.  Pissarro,  who   became   acquainted   with   Fénéon   due   to   his   involvement   in   the   last   Impressionist   exhibit,   encouraged   Fénéon’s   ideas,   reviewed   his   essay   “Les   Impressionnistes   en   1886,”   and   sought   him   out   to   write   for   their   work.166  Fénéon   asked   Pissarro   to   review   a   draft   of   “Les   Impressionnistes   en   1886,”   specifically   the   section   on   technique,   but   Pissarro   was   worried   that   painters   would   “take   advantage”   of   the   directives   and   make   similar   paintings. 167  Fénéon   first   used   the   term   “néo-­‐ impressionnisme”   in   the   1886   essay   in   which   he   named   only   Pissarro   as   a   practitioner.168  The  critic  underscored  that  Pissarro  brought  a  systematic  rigor  to  the   new-­‐found   Neo-­‐Impressionist   approach   and   it   is   the   earliest   instance   where   the                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Symbolist  Art  Theories:  A  Critical  Anthology,  trans.  Henri  Dorra  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:   University   of   California   Press,   1994)   157-­‐163.   The   fourth   and   last   section   of   “Le   Néo-­‐ impressionnisme”  is  not  translated,  but  it   includes  a  short  list  of  Néo-­‐Impressionist  artists:  Charles   Angrand,  Maximilien  Luce,  Lucien  Pissarro,  Albert  Dubois-­‐Pillet,  Georges  Seurat,  and  Paul  Signac.  See   also:   Camille   Pissarro,   Letter   to   his   Son   Lucien,   eds.   Lucien   Pissarro   and   John   Rewald   (New   York:   Pantheon  Books,  Inc.,  1943)  81,  footnote  1.   166  Pissarro,  Letter,  81,  footnote  1,  95,  111,  134-­‐135.  In  a  letter  to  Lucien,  dated  September  15,  1886,   Pissarro  told  his  son  that  Fénéon  sent  him  a  draft  of  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886.”   167  Pissarro,  Letters,  81.     168  Halperin,   Félix   Fénéon:   Aesthete   &   Anarchist   in   Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle   Paris   92.   Fénéon,   “Les   Impressionnistes   en   1886”   in   Halperin   37.   Fénéon   concluded   his   1886   essay   with   brief   comments   about   Pissarro   and   Lucien.   He   found   Lucien’s   watercolors   “delightful   and   fresh”:   “Ses   aquarelles   d’illustration  sont  savoureuses  et  fraîches,  et   il  a  gravé  sur  bois  une  série  d’êtres  ruraux,  bêtes  et   gens,  avec  la  simplicité  exemplaire  des  primitifs  xylographes.”         91   critic   used   the   term   “néo-­‐impressonnisme.”169  Fittingly,   the   term   first   appears   in   reference  to  Pissarro,  a  painter  who  had  authority  in  the  Impressionist  millieu  and   switched   to   using   the   pointillist   paint   application   in   1886.   In   the   revised   1887   version,   “Le   Néo-­‐impressionnisme,”   Fénéon   named   Pissarro,   Seurat,   and   Signac   (among  others)  Neo-­‐Impressionists.170   A  critic  who  bridged  the  gap  between  Impressionism  and  Symbolism,  Fénéon   sought  painters  who  could  craft  not  an  image  that  included  symbols,  but  rather  an   image  that  was   itself  a  symbol.  This  distinction  characterizes  Van  Gogh’s  painting   practice   in   Paris   as   he   transitioned   from   didactic   narrative   to   visual   devices   that   suggested   the   symbol   of   an   experience.   In   images   such   as   Factory   at   Clichy   (addressed  below),  Van  Gogh’s  use  of  elongated  strokes,  hyper  foreshortening,  and   compressed   perspectival   angle   formally   indicate   a   lack   of   depth   and   symbolically   convey   a   laborer’s   work   environment.   Van   Gogh’s   imagery   need   not   explicitly   include   the   pointillist   approach   to   suit   Fénéon’s   aims   as   the   critic   articulated   the   means  by  which  to  craft  a  symbolic  image.  Fénéon  addressed  technique  to  assert   that  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists’  respective  canvases  were  individually  unique,  despite                                                                                                                   169  Fénéon,  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886”  in  Halperin  37.   170  Félix  Fénéon,  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886,”  in  Félix  Fénéon  Oeuvres  plus  que  complètes,  tome  I,   ed.  Joan  U.  Halperin  (Genève:  Librarie  Droz,  1970)  27-­‐37.         92   having   rallied   around   a   similar   painterly   approach   of   constructing   local   color   (the   hue  in  white  light)  by  using  complementary  colors.     Although   Fénéon   focused   on   the   formal   aspects   of   the   works   and   the   pointillist   technique,   he   set   Monet,   Pissarro,   and   Degas   as   leaders   of   a   painting   revolution,  noting  that  they  influenced  Manet  and  he  them.  He  also  located  Seurat,   Signac,   Pissarro,   and   Lucien   Pissarro   as   innovators   within   the   Impressionist’s   revolutionizing   tradition.   Seurat   was   the   first,   according   to   Fénéon,   to   create   brighter  colors  by  applying  complementary  hues  with  the  tip  of  the  brush,  allowing   colors   to   appear   brighter   and   to   mix   in   the   viewer’s   retina,   inviting   spectator   participation.171  In  terms  of  the  viewer-­‐canvas  relationship,  Martha  Ward  points  out   that  Fénéon  and  Pissarro  were  attracted  to  the  temporal  aspect  of  pictorial  devices,   which  were  in  action.172  Through  an  emphasis  on  visual  effects,  a  painting  could  be   in  a  state  of  coming  into  being.  In  Van  Gogh’s  imagery,  a  sense  of  motion,  a  dynamic   tension  between  painterly  elements,  and  an  increase  in  color  that  relates  to  color   rather  than  to  the  object  at  hand,  correspond  to  Fénéon’s  notion  that  a  painting  can   be  experienced  sensorially  and  optically.173  Although  the  critic  depended  on  optical   effects  in  terms  of  Seurat,  he  also  prioritized  the  surface  and  the  materiality  of  the                                                                                                                   171  Fénéon,  “Les  Impressionnistes  en  1886”  in  Halperin  35.   172  Ward  96.  “…the  action  of  the  pictorial  elements  as  inexhaustible  and  the  image  as  forever  in  a   state  of  coming  into  being  or  continuous  renewal”  (96).   173  Ward  89.           93   painting.174  In  this  way,  he  argued  not  for  a  fixed  moment  of  a  transitory  effect,  but   for  an  image  in  which  the  elements  communicated  with  one  another  and  were  not   tied   to   the   depicted   object.   The   viewer   engaged   with   a   painting   of   the   artist’s   translation   of   the   natural   world   mediated   through   medium,   which   exposed   the   spectator  to  an  experience  with  the  painter’s  imagination,  rather  than  the  material   realm.     Fénéon  and  Pissarro’s  relationship  continued,  and  in  1889,  Fénéon  prepared   an   article   for   Pissarro,   and   asked   the   artist   to   clarify   his   ideas   on   landscape   and   technique.  In  “Exposition  Pissarro,”  the  critic  noted:  “Pissarro,  a  searcher  of  clarity   and  light,  adopted  the  division  because  it  seemed  to  be  the  best  way  invented  until   now  to  paint  the  sun  and  shade.”175  In  1892,  Fénéon  wrote  more  specifically  about   the   painter’s   use   of   symbolic   ornament,   locating   the   painter   in   the   realm   of   Symbolism.  The  critic  wrote:                                                                                                                     174  Ward  93-­‐94.     175  Pissarro,   Letters,   134-­‐135,   footnote   1.   The   exchange   between   Pissarro   and   Lucien   is   dated   February  20,  1889  and  Fénéon’s  quoted  essay,  “Exposition  Pissarro,”  was  dated  January  1889,  so  it   does  not  seem  likely  that  Pissarro  is  referring  to  Fénéon’s  “Exposition  Pissarro,”  but  the  letter  bears   mention.  “I  don’t  know  what  to  write  Fénéon  about  the  theory  of  ‘passages.’  I  will  write  him  what   seems  to  me  to  be  the  truth  of  the  matter,  that  I  am  at  this  moment  looking  for  some  substitute  for   the  dot;  so  far  I  have  not  found  what  I  want,  the  actual  execution  does  not  seem  to  me  to  be  rapid   enough  and  does  not  follow  sensation  with  enough  inevitability;  but  it  would  be  best  not  to  speak  of   this.”  See  also:  Félix  Fénéon,  “Exposition  Pissarro,”  Félix  Fénéon:  Œuvres  plus  que  complètes,  ed.  Joan   Ungersma  Halperin  (Genève,  Switzerland:  Librairies  Droz,  S.A,  1970)  137.  My  translation.  The  essay   was  initially  published  anonymously;  John  Rewald  identified  it  in  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh   to  Gauguin  (1956).         94   Having   the   rich   memory   of   all   the   phenomena   of   reality   he   fervently  observed  for  hours,  seasons  and  landscapes,  he  stopped   painting   outdoors,   treating   Nature   like   a   index   of   decorative   motifs,  freely  releasing  and  calming  the  antagonism  of  these  two   characteristics:   energy   and   sweetness—and   reaching   highly   unconscious  symbolizations.176     Fénéon  continued,  citing  a  fictional  conversation  between  a  gallery  owner  and  the   artist:   “And   if   Durand-­‐Ruel   was   surprised   by   this   unexpected…cow,   the   good   old   Pissarro  would  say:  “But  it's  not  a  cow,  it  is  an  ornament."177  The  passages  address   the  discord  between  the  natural  world,  a  realm  used  like  a  dictionary  (to  paraphrase   Baudelaire),   and   the   image,   the   ornament.178  Fénéon   positioned   Pissarro   as   a   painter  who  sought  to  deduce  the  material  world  into  symbols,  not  to  study  it.  For   Fénéon,   the   image   as   a   whole   became   the   symbol,   one   that   relayed   an   allusive                                                                                                                   176  Félix   Fénéon,   “Exposition   Camille   Pissarro,”   Félix   Fénéon:   Œuvres   plus   que   complètes,   ed.   Joan   Ungersma   Halperin   (Genève,   Switzerland:   Librairies   Droz,   S.A,   1970)   209.   The   essay   was   initially   published   in   L’Art   moderne   de   Bruxelles,   February   14,   1892.   “La   mémoire   riche   de   tous   les   phénomènes  d’une  Réalité  si  fervemment  épiée  heures,  saisons  et  panoramas,  il  cesse  de  peindre  en   plein   air,   traite   la   Nature   en   répertoire   de   motifs   décoratifs,   la   libère   de   l’accidental,   pacifie   l’antagonisme  de  ces  deux  caractères:  énergies  et  douceur—et  atteint  à  de  hautes  symbolisations   inconscientes.”     177  Félix  Fénéon,  “Exposition  Camille  Pissarro”  in  Halperin  209.  “Et  si  Durand-­‐Ruel  s’étonne  de  cette   vache  imprévue  des  photographes,  le  bon  vieillard  Pissarro  dira:  “Mais  ce  n’est  pas  une  vache,  c’est   un  ornement.”   178  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Salon  of  1859,”  Art  in  Paris:  Salons  and  Other  Exhibitions,  trans  and  ed.   Jonathan  Mayne  (Oxford  Press  Limited,  1965)  159-­‐162.  Baudelaire  relegated  Nature  to  a  dictionary   and  called  for  artists  to  depend  on  their  imaginations.  “Painters  who  are  obedient  to  the  imagination   seek   in   their   dictionary   the   elements   which   suit   with   their   conception….But   those   who   have   no   imagination  just  copy  the  dictionary.  The  result  is  a  great  vice,  the  vice  of  banality….”         95   idea.179  In  a  1908  catalog  preface  for  Van  Gogh,  the  critic  classified  the  artist’s  work   into   categories,   writing   that   one   can   understand   the   development   of   the   painter   who  was  “a  great  innovator  of  forms  and  harmonies,”  stressing  the  artist’s  ability  to   depend  on  his  medium  in  relation  to  the  canvas’s  surface.180       The  Artists  of  the  Petit  Boulevard   Within   the   critical   milieu   Fénéon   and   Pissarro   helped   to   shape,   Van   Gogh   began  to  connect  with  artists  while  he  was  living  in  the  capital.  Some  of  Van  Gogh’s   exhibited  canvases  explore  this  new  technique  of  separating  hue  and  applying  paint   by  stippling,  a  way  of  laying  the  paint  on  the  canvas  in  a  small  dot  without  blending   it,  and  they  also  read  as  one  field  of  vision.  The  exhibition  of  his  flower  still  lifes  at   the  Café  Tambourin,  the  factory  landscapes  and  portrait  at  Grand  Bouillon,  and  at   the   park   landscape   at   the   Théâtre   Libra   d’Antoine,   show   the   aesthetic   Van   Gogh   developed  in  1886  and  1887  within  the  influence  of  an  emerging  artistic  community.   He  included  artists  in  his  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition  who  were,  like  him,  influenced  by                                                                                                                   179  Ungersma  Halperin,  Félix  Fénéon,  63-­‐  64.  Fénéon  wrote  about  art  for  several  decades  thereafter,   and  he  supported  the  painters  he  admired  long  term.  He  often  wrote  catalog  entries  and  organized   their  respective  works  for  their  estate  or  for  an  exhibition  after  their  deaths.   180  Félix  Fénéon,  “Preface,”  l’Exposition  Van  Gogh,  Félix  Fénéon:  Œuvres  plus  que  complètes,  ed.  Joan   Ungersma  Halperin  (Genève,  Switzerland:  Librairies  Droz,  S.A,  1970)  247.  The  catalog  was  organized   for  an  exhibition  at  the  Bernheim-­‐Jeune  Gallery   in  1908.  The  in-­‐text  translation  is  mine.  “Les  cent   tableaux  que  voici—qui  constitute  le  quart  ou  le  cinquième  de  son  œuvre  peint—s’échelonnent  avec   régularité  sur  cette  brève  carrière,  et  l’on  y  peut  suivre  sans  à-­‐coups  le  développement  d’un  grand   inventeur  de  forms  et  d’harmonies.  Ils  sont  classés  ici  en  cinq  périodes:  Nuenen,  Paris,  Arles,  Saint-­‐ Remy,  Auvers.”         96   Impressionism  and  engaging  with  the  new  pointillist  technique  and  exposed  to  new   attitudes  toward  painting.    Van  Gogh  called  the  emerging  artist  acquaintances  he   made   in   Paris   the   painters   of   the   petit   boulevard,   referring   to   Gauguin,   Seurat,   Signac,   Anquetin,   Guillaumin,   Bernard,   Toulouse-­‐Lautrec,   and   Lucien   Pissarro.   The   petit  boulevard  painters  were  a  group  of  artists  who  shaped  Van  Gogh’s  developing   ideas   and   were   in   turn   shaped   by   his.181  Van   Gogh   called   the   Impressionists   the   painters  of  the  grand  boulevard—referring  to  Claude  Monet,  Edgar  Degas,  Renoir,   and  Alfred  Sisley—and  asserted  his  place  (and  that  of  the  other  artists)  as  an  heir  of   the  Impressionist  tradition.182     Van   Gogh   and   the   painters   of   the   petit   boulevard   were   geographically   separate   from   the   painters   of   the   grand   boulevard.183  The   former   socialized   and   exhibited  in  Montmartre  and  Clichy  among  varying  social  classes,  in  contrast  to  the   Impressionists   who   showed   in   the   Georges   Petit   and   Paul   Durand-­‐Ruel   galleries,   which  by  the  late  1880s  were  at  the  heart  of  the  Parisian  art  market.  The  areas  north                                                                                                                   181  Homburg  21-­‐56.  See  also:  letter  584,  written  to  Théo  from  Arles  in  March  1888.   182  See  letter  584,  note  6.  Van  Gogh  asked  Théo  if  the  Impressionists  could  create  an  association,  sell   their   paintings,   and   share   the   proceeds.   “Then   the   great   Impressionists   of   the   Grand   Boulevard,   giving   their   paintings   that   become   common   property,   would   retain   their   prestige,   and   the   others   won’t  be  able  to  criticize  them  for  keeping  to  themselves  the  benefits  of  a  reputation  gained  without   any  doubt  by  their  efforts  and  by  their  individual  genius  in  the  first  place—but—nevertheless,  in  the   second  place,  a  reputation  that  is  growing  and  is  now  also  being  consolidated  and  supported  by  a   whole  battalion  of  artists  who  have  so  far  been  working  while  constantly  broke.”   183  Thomson  65-­‐108.             97   of  the  city’s  center  attracted  artists  who  experimented  based  on  the  Impressionist’s   innovations.  The  artists  of  the  petit  boulevard  held  similar  positions  regarding  the   market.   Paris   had   a   viable   European   art   market,   and   the   painters   maturing   after   Impressionism   likewise   sought   new   and   interesting   places   to   exhibit   their   work   outside  of  the  capital,  which  was  ripe  with  opportunity,  such  as  Café  du  Tambourin   or  Julien  Tanguy’s  paint  shop.184  “Guillaumin,  Pissarro,  Renoir,  Gauguin,  Van  Gogh,   [Francisco]  Oller…Anquetin,  Signac,  Lautrec  and  countless  others,”  Bernard  wrote,   “strolled  into  the  little  black  shop  at  14,  rue  Clauzel  to  simultaneously  put  up  their   works.”185  With   all   of   those   paintings   available   for   study,   Tanguy’s   shop   was   an   important  place  to  make  contacts;  it  is  where  Van  Gogh  met  Signac  and  connected   with  Bernard.186     Although   Fénéon   did   not   employ   Van   Gogh’s   terms   petit   and   grand   to   characterize   the   groups,   the   critic’s   1887   text   sets   the   Impressionists   apart   from   those  who  used  the  pointillist  dot.  Fénéon  described  the  painters  who  developed   Impressionism—namely,   Manet,   Pissarro,   Renoir,   Monet,   Sisley,   Cézanne,   and   Ludovic   Piette—as   artists   who   were   groundbreaking   because   of   their   sensitivity   toward   color   and   their   ability   to   generate   one   hue   through   a   contrast   of                                                                                                                   184  Homburg  31-­‐32.     185  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  92.     186  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  195.  On  when  Van  Gogh  met  Bernard,  see:  Stevens  95.           98   complements  to  create  luminous  surfaces.  Their  subject  matter,  he  noted,  was  not   anecdotal,  dream-­‐like  or  historical,  but  a  “rapid  execution  before  nature”  or  modern   life.187  Their  overall  effect  he  considered  “summary,  brutal  and  approximate,”  and   underscored  their  use  (Monet’s  specifically)  of  violet  to  describe  cast  shadows.188  In   contrast,   Seurat   and   Pissarro   used   dots,   not   swift   brushstrokes.   Whereas   the   Impressionists  wanted  to  capture  nature’s  transient  aspects,  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists   sought  to  provide  its  “sensation”  by  considering  how  color  can  convey  the  artist’s   subjective  emotions—“a  superior  sublimated  reality,”  the  critic  wrote,  “into  which   their  personality  transfuses  itself.”189  The  underlying  difference  was  formal  (stroke,   use   of   color,   and   surface   quality),   but   Fénéon   privileged   the   canvas’s   affect.   In   Fénéon’s  terms,  form  reflects  the  connection  between  the  artist’s  inner  mind  and   the  medium,  a  notion  that  united  the  canvases  of  the  petit  boulevard  painters.     Although   the   painters   of   the   petit   boulevard   were   pictorially   diverse,   Thomson  notes  that  they  all  gravitated  to  “simply  drawn  forms”  and  exaggerated   “chromatic  and  textural  effects,”  and  that  they  wanted  to  sell  their  work.190  In  the   fall   1887,   Van   Gogh   organized   the   Grand   Bouillon   exhibition   with   painters   of   the                                                                                                                   187  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  160.     188  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  161.   189  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162-­‐163.     190  Thomson  68.         99   petit   boulevard. 191  Reminiscing   about   the   exhibition   to   Théo,   Vincent   wrote:   “Bernard  having  sold  his  first  painting  there,  Anquetin  having  sold  a  study  there,  and   I  having  made  the  exchange  with  Gauguin,  we  all  got  something.”192  Bernard  sold  his   painting  (which  is  unknown)  to  a  dealer,  George  Thomas,  and  Anquetin  likely  sold   Old   Peasant   (1886)   [figure   16].   Although   the   exhibition   ended   poorly,   Van   Gogh   focused  on  the  relationships  he  was  forging.  The  painter  gave  Gauguin  Sunflowers   Gone  to  Seed  (1887)  and  Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  two  paintings  (with  the  same   title)  of  a  close  up  of  sunflowers  [figures  17  &  18].  Similar  to  the  flower  paintings   Van  Gogh  exhibited  at  the  Café  Tambourin,  they  show  his  transition  to  using  color   and  robust  brush  work  in  the  vein  of  Impressionism,  and  his  engagement  with  Neo-­‐ Impressionism’s  approach  to  mark-­‐making  and  focus  on  the  painting’s  surface  in  his   use  of  broken  color  and  texture.     The  petit  boulevard  had  an  impact  on  Van  Gogh  after  leaving  Paris  as  well,   but   he   wanted   to   maintain   his   connection   to   the   Impressionist   painters.   In   1888,   after   having   moved   to   Arles,   he   still   considered   himself   a   part   of   the   petit   boulevard—a  group  that  for  him  pioneered  new  painting  methods  that  grew  directly   from  the  pictorial   inventions  of  the  Impressionists.  He  wrote  to  Théo  that  he  was   trying  to  convince  H.G.  Teersteg,  his  old  boss  at  Goupil’s  Dutch  branch,  that  he  really                                                                                                                   191  Homburg  32.  See  also:  Letters  575  and  640.     192  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  640  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Sunday,  July  15,  1888.  Letter  640,  note  7.         100   was  “an  Impressionist  of  the  Petit  Boulevard”  and  that  he  expected  “to  retain  that   position.”193  The   younger   generation   developed   a   slightly   different   relationship   among  the  canvas,  the  painter,  and  the  viewer.  They  created  an  extreme  version  of   an   instantaneously   beheld   canvas,   an   object   to   be   visually   apprehended.     In   the   canvases   from   the   petit   boulevard,   the   image-­‐beholder   relationship   became   one   that   was   a   single-­‐facing   visual   object   that   belied,   in   some   ways,   the   signs   of   the   natural   world.   Their   imagery   not   only   considered   the   difference   between   the   mimetic   and   the   transformative,   but   also   defined   the   picture   plane   within   the   modernist  lineage  to  read  as  a  symbol  of  form,  color,  or  movement,  generating  a   tenuous  relationship  between  reality  and  the  canvas.     Flower  Still  Lifes  at  the  Café  Tambourin   Van   Gogh   painted   still   lifes   at   the   beginning   of   his   painting   career   that   indicate  the  ways  he  taught  himself  how  to  use  a  limited  color  palette  and  model   with   tones   and   highlights.   Before   moving   to   Paris   and   having   access   to   Parisian   avant-­‐garde   painters,   Van   Gogh   visited   the   Rijksmuseum,   “longing   most   of   all   for   Rembrandt   and   Frans   Hals,”   and   the   subtle   play   of   tint   and   shade   that   revealed   objects   and   unfolded   forms   through   a   contrast   of   dense   shadows   and   diffuse                                                                                                                   193  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  592  to  Théo  from  Arles  around  Thursday,  April  3,  1888.           101   light.194  He  made  many  still  lifes  at  this  time,  thinking  that  it  was  a  useful  practice,   and  Basket  with  Potatoes  (1885)  [figure  19]  is  an  example  of  Van  Gogh’s  relationship   to  color  and  his  treatment  of  still-­‐life  subjects  during  his  Dutch  period.195  Basket  is   one  of  several   images  of  potatoes  Van  Gogh  painted  the  same  month  (or  shortly   after)  he  visited  the  Rijksmuseum  during  a  fall  trip  in  October  1885—where  he  had   hardly  any  time  for  anything  other  than  visiting  the  museum196—and  a  few  months   before  his  wintertime  move  to  Paris.  Aiming  to  express  the  potatoes  “such  that  they   become   lumps   that   have   weight   and   are   solid,   which   you’d   feel   if   they   were   thrown,”   dark,   somber   tones   and   an   attention   to   textural   detail   and   form   take   priority.  197  Van  Gogh  set  the  potatoes  before  a  somewhat  deep  space  in  a  central   basket  overflowing  with  a  recent  harvest,  exploring  light  and  shade  (from  one  light   source)   within   a   monochromatic   color   family:   sienna,   a   deep   transparent   reddish   brown.  The  other  potato  still-­‐lifes  he  made  by  studying  variations  of  warm  earthy                                                                                                                   194  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  533  to  Théo  on  Sunday,  October  4,  1885,  from  Nuenen.  He  was  going  to   Amsterdam  to  visit  the  Rijksmuseum  (which  had  opened  in  July  1885).  He  was  in  Amsterdam  from  the   6th  thru  the  8th  (see  note  4,  and  letter  534).    See  also:  Maureen  S.  Trappeniers  Van  Gogh  in  Brabant   (Zwolle:  Waanders  Publishers,  1987)  233-­‐235.   195  Letter  533.  “As  for  the  work,  I’ve  been  painting  a  lot  of  still  lifes  lately,  as  I  already  wrote,  and  I  like   it  enormously.  I’ll  send  you  some.  I  know  that  they’re  difficult  to  sell—but  it’s  devilish  useful  and  I’ll   go  on  doing  a  lot  to  them  in  the  winter.”   196  Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   543   to   Théo   around   Saturday,   October   10,   1885,   about   his   Amsterdam   museum  trip.     197  Letter  533.           102   colors:   burnt   sienna,   yellow   ochre,   and   red   ochre.198  In   these   studies,   Van   Gogh   explored  one  central  color  as  it  related  to  the  subject  at  hand.     Most  recently,  Anabelle  Kienle  notes  that   in  Paris  Van  Gogh  was  drawn  to   flowers  as  a  subject  matter  so  the  artist  could  begin  working  with  color  and  try  to   reinvent  his  painting  strategies  from  The  Netherlands  and  Belgium  and,  eventually,   use  saturated  color  that  suited  his  temperament  in  his  Paris-­‐period  canvases.199  As   Vincent  mentioned  in  the  above-­‐quoted  letter  to  his  sister  Wil,  the  flower  still  lifes   were  a  vehicle  to  experiment  with  expressive  form  and  innovative  hue.  The  flower   still   lifes   Van   Gogh   supposedly   first   exhibited   at   the   Café   Tambourin,   Basket   of   Pansies   and   Fritillaires   (although   we   are   not   sure   Van   Gogh   exhibited   these   paintings,  Bernard  suggested  he  hung  paintings  along  these  lines),  represent  a  few   paintings   from   a   large   body   of   work   he   made   when   first   living   in   the   capital,   including   the   sunflower   paintings   he   gave   to   Gauguin.   The   still   lifes   Van   Gogh   painted   in   Paris   reveal   a   connection   to   Impressionism,   to   the   avant-­‐garde   ideals   Fénéon  explained,  and  the  interests  of  the  petit  boulevard  painters.  I  find  that  these   paintings,  particularly  Fritillaires,  move  beyond  an  exploration  of  Impressionism  and                                                                                                                   198  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  536  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Tuesday,  October  10,  1885  regarding  his   potato  still-­‐life  studies.   199  Anabelle  Kienle,  “Still  Life,”  Van  Gogh  Up  Close,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (New  Haven  and  London:   Yale  University  Press,  2012)  186-­‐201.  Kienle  explores  the  trajectory  of  Van  Gogh’s  still  lifes  from  his   Paris  period,  makes  connections  to  Renoir’s  and  Monet’s  respective  still  lifes  (Monet’s  Peaches,  1883,   and   Renoir’s   The   Onions   1881),   and   asserts   that   Van   Gogh’s   interest   in   painting   objects   up   close   began  in  Paris.           103   Neo-­‐Impressionism  and  toward  a  sense  of  motion  and  energetic  texture  in  a  genre   associated  with  stasis.     Basket  of  Pansies  [figure  5]  is  similar  to  the  monochromatic  palette  he  used   in  images  such  as  Potato  Eaters  (1885)  and,  in  some  of  the  1886  images  he  painted   during  his  first  year   in  Paris—Le  Cinéraire  (July-­‐August  1886)  and  Roses  Trémières   dans   une   cruche   (August-­‐September   1886)   and   Fleurs   et   Tournesols   (Fall   1886)   [figures   20-­‐22]—lush   brushstrokes   model   petals   and   Van   Gogh   left   some   color   unblended.   He   continued   his   still-­‐life   practice   in   Paris,   but   the   flower   still   lifes   reference   French   painting   traditions,   such   as   Gustave   Courbet’s   deeply   shaded   Hollyhocks  in  a  Copper  Bowl  (1872),  or  Renoir’s  brightly  hued  Mixed  Flowers  in  an   Earthenware   Pot   (ca.   1869)   [figures   23   &   24].   Guillaumin,   like   Van   Gogh,   also   painted   flowers   that   similarly   built   on   the   painterly   rhetoric   developed   by   the   Impressionists,  in  his,  for  instance,  Nature  morte  aux  chrysanthèmes  (1885)  [figure   25].   Guillaumin  used  a  subtle  green  background  to  set  off  yellow-­‐orange  flowers,   and   painted   blue-­‐violet   shadows   surrounding   the   flowers   to   show   the   spatial   difference  between  the  petals  and  table,  attempting  to  do  so  in  a  similar  fashion  as   Monet’s  use  of  violet  in  his  Vase  of  Flowers  (ca.  1881-­‐1882)  [figure  26].     In  Guillaumin’s  and  Van  Gogh’s  flower  still  lifes  from  1885  and  1886,  colors   describe  the  flower’s  natural  appearance.  Similar  to  Courbet’s  and  Renoir’s  still  lifes,   Van  Gogh  modeled  the  Hollyhocks  in  Trémières  with  tints  and  shades  to  resemble         104   the   flower’s   color.   Although   brushstrokes   are   visible,   they   mimic   petals.   And   the   background   serves   as   a   muted   backdrop   that   emphasizes   the   deep   hue   of   the   hollyhocks.   The   roses   and   sunflowers   in   Fleurs   et   Tournesols   remain   in   their   respective  chromatic  color  family,  yellow  and  white  (with  hints  of  pink)  respectively.   Light  reflects  off  the  vase,  suggested  with  quick  white  brushstrokes.  The  background   and  foreground  indicated  by  the  table-­‐line  in  the  background.  Compared  to  still  lifes   Van  Gogh  created  in  1885  in  Holland,  such  as  Basket  with  Potatoes,  the  flower  still   lifes   of   1886   become   bright,   open,   and   incorporate   the   brush’s   mark   to   swiftly   indicate  a  delicate  flower.  And  they  exemplify  the  Impressionist  approach  of  color   and  mark-­‐making,  such  as  in  the  white  baby’s  breath  in  Fleurs  et  Tournesols.  After  a   few  months  in  Paris,  Van  Gogh  felt  that  his  color  had  been  developing  along  the  lines   of  the  Impressionists,  but  could  never  be  “exactly  the  same  as  their  theories,”  and   that   he   could   make   friends   in   the   art   community,   those   who   introduced   him   to   pointillism.200       In  Fritillaires  [figure  6]  several  modes  of  painting  come  together  and  show   Van  Gogh’s  inventive  use  of  both  Impressionist  and  pointillist  mark-­‐making.  Painted   a   year   after   his   arrival,   Fritillaires   shows   the   influences   he   was   studying   and   the   newer  techniques  he  and  the  petit  boulevard  painters  developed.  Van  Gogh  used   the  pointillist  brush  mark  in  the  background,  elongated  strokes  he  developed  during                                                                                                                   200  Letter  569  to  Livens.           105   this  period  on  the  table  and  foliage,  and  Impressionist  mark-­‐making  techniques  to   signify  the  reflection  on  the  copper  vase.  Painterly  influences  also  merge  in  Signac’s   Nature   morte:   oranges,   pomme   et   livre   Au   soleil   (1885)   [figure   27],   in   which   Cézanne’s  influence  can  be  understood—the  furthest  edge  of  the  table  top  appears   to  not  recede  into  one-­‐point  perspective  but  is  raised.  In  this  way,  the  viewer  looks   down  at  the  contents  of  a  table  and  at  the  base  of  the  vase,  both  of  which  would   only  be  partly  seen  if  they  were  foreshortened  to  appear  in  deep  space.  Elements  of   Monet   are   also   evident   in   the   blue   shadows   modeling   the   round   forms   of   the   oranges  and  the  flowers  created  with  one  stroke.  Signac  also  used  the  direction  of   the  brushstroke  to  indicate  the  different  objects.     Signac’s  Nature  morte  and  Van  Gogh’s  Fritillaires   lead  from  influences,  but   both   begin   to   explore   the   artist’s   response   to   the   subject   matter   as   a   means   to   pictorially  engage  with  the  artifice  of  the  canvas’s  medium,  rather  than  as  an  object   to  be  depicted  or  described  for  its  own  sake.  In  Fritillaires,  Van  Gogh,  like  Signac,   used  directional  marks  to  indicate  aspects  of  the  picture  plane,  foreground,  flowers,   pot,   and   background.   Complementary   color,   similar   to   Guillaumin’s   Nature   morte   aux  chrysanthèmes,  organizes  the  relationship  between  the  background  and  flowers.   Movement  in  Fritallaires  is  a  component  that  Van  Gogh  created  by  considering  the   background   and   foreground   elements   as   a   whole—the   background   space   neither   recedes  nor  acts  to  highlight  the  central  bunch  of  flowers.  Long,  unblended  strokes         106   of  the  table  (perhaps  indicating  fabric)  contrast  the  stippled  approach  in  the  blue   background.  The  mark-­‐making  techniques,  although  distinct,  seem  to  work  together,   creating   a   circular   effect   around   the   flowers.   The   typically   static   background   and   table  top,  evident  in  the  still   lifes  Trémières  and  Fleurs  et  Tournesols,  support  the   central  object.  In  Fritillaires,  although  Van  Gogh  indicated  the  space  of  the  picture   plane  with  the  edge  of  a  receding  table  top,  the  edge  on  the  left  and  right  do  not   meet  and  are  thus  not  exactly  in  perspective  (a  trait  found  in  Cézanne’s  still-­‐lifes,   paintings  Van  Gogh  may  have  seen  at  Tanguy’s).  Paint  strokes  move  diagonally  on   the  tabletop  and  the  directionality  continues  into  the  blue  background;  brushstrokes   merge  from  one  surface  to  the  other  on  the  left.  The  fritillaries  become  animated   flowers.  Foliage  winding  out  of  the  copper  pot,  particularly  the  leaves  on  the  left-­‐ hand  side,  generates  movement  in  the  circular  pattern.     In  these  ways,  Van  Gogh’s  Fritillaires  shows  his  use  of  both  an  Impressionist   and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  painterly  vocabulary.  Moreover,  the  techniques  he  used   in   Fritillaires  bring  focus  to  the  surface  and  treat  the  picture  plane  as  a  single-­‐facing   object.  The  planes  in  Fritillaires  function  together  as  a  compelling  whole;  one  part  is   not   necessarily   subordinate   to   the   other.   Similarly,   In   Grapes,   Lemons,   Pears   and   Apples   (1887)   [figure   28],   brushstrokes   radiate   around   the   fruits,   and   the   mark-­‐ making  in  Grapes,  Lemons,  Pears  and  Apples  and  Fritillaires  shows  Van  Gogh’s  new-­‐ found   engagement   with   color   and   his   ability   to   convey   movement   through         107   brushstroke.  The  circular  motion  of  strokes  around  the  bulbs  and  copper  pot  do  not   describe  depth  or  what  Van  Gogh  saw  necessarily,  but  transform  the  whole  of  the   picture  plane  through  texture  and  color  so  that  the  painting  reads  as  a  symbol,  a   painterly  mode  Fénéon  described.     With  the  exception  of  Pissarro,  Fénéon  separated  the  Impressionists  and  the   Neo-­‐Impressionists.   The   former   the   critic   considered   “mechanical   copyists   of   externals,”   and   the   latter   created   a   “sublimated   reality.”201  For   Fénéon,   the   Neo-­‐ Impressionists  generated  images  by  reacting  subjectively  to  color  and  form,  not  to   nature.   Developing   a   color   palette   in   relation   to   nature   is   quite   different   than   constructing  a  canvas  with  respect  to  the  artist’s  experience  before  the  easel—one   approach  considers  hue  as  it  describes  an  object  and  the  other  as  it  relates  to  the   colors   on   the   canvas   or   the   artist’s   response.   Before   arriving   in   Paris,   Van   Gogh   attempted  to  paint  what  he  saw,  what  was  before  him,  and  used  color  mimetically.   In   Basket   with   Potatoes   Van   Gogh’s   chromatic   decisions   relate   to   the   vegetables,   using  shades  and  tints  of  sienna.  In  contrast,  in  Fritillaires,  the  choices  of  brushstroke   and  hue  led  from  Van  Gogh’s  idiosyncratic  reaction  to  the  canvas,  not  precisely  to   the  fritillaries  themselves  but  to  the  liveliness  of  the  flowers.     Fritillaires   conveys   the   sense   of   living   flowers   in   a   copper   pot—and,   in   Fénéon’s   terms—suggests   the   sensation   of   movement   by   considering   the                                                                                                                   201  Fénéon,  “Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  163.         108   relationship  between  the  canvas’s  forms.  The  flowers,  unlike  the  potatoes,  are  not   inert  static  objects  to  hold  color.  Van  Gogh  used  texture  and  color  to  suggest  the   essence  of  motion.  Although  Van  Gogh  modeled  the  fritillaries  with  highlights  and   shades,  saturated  orange  and  yellow  do  not  correspond  to  the  hue  of  the  flower   within   the   atmosphere   or   under   white   light   as   in   Basket   of   Pansies,   but   as   high-­‐ keyed  color  that  responds  in  contrast  to  the  background.  The  color  and  strokes  in   Fritillaires   show   that   Van   Gogh   merged   the   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   method  to  generate  an  experimental  still-­‐life  technique,  conveying  the  sensation  of   the   living   subject   rather   than   its   still   forms   in   chromatic   reality.   The   two   flower   images  that  may  have  been  in  the  Café  Tambourin  exhibition  suggest  Van  Gogh’s   understanding   of   the   Impressionist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   ideals   and   his   goal   to   align  his  practice  with  the  grand  boulevard  painters  and  to  innovate  with  those  of   the  petit.    Van  Gogh  did  not  attempt  to  capture,  for  instance,  a  transitory  moment  of   light  illuminating  the  flowers.  Instead,  the  image  performs  a  sense  of  the  flowers  in   action   and   provides   the   spectator   with   an   experience   of   the   flowers   coming   into   being.       Tanguy’s  Portrait  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition   Fénéon   underscored   the   main   differences   as   he   saw   them   between   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   Both   the   critic   and   Van   Gogh,   though,         109   considered   Impressionism   to   be   the   underpinnings   of   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   The   portrait  Van  Gogh  exhibited  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition,  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy   [figure  12],  can,  in  some  ways,  be  more  firmly  located  within  Fénéon’s  ideas  and  the   painters   of   the   petit   boulevard,   particularly   in   concept.   Overall,   scholars   read   the   portrait  as  a  testament  to  the  influence  of  Japonisme  and  understand  Van  Gogh’s   depiction  of  Tanguy  as  that  of  a  working-­‐class  outsider,  a  Socialist,  and  a  dealer  in   contrast   to   gallery   owner   Paul   Durand-­‐Ruel.202  Significantly,   Zemel   notes   that   the   image   is   symbolic   in   arrangement,   and   I   intend   to   further   her   observation   to   consider  the  ways  in  which  the  portrait  aligns  with  Fénéon’s  ideals.203  Similar  to  the   flower   still-­‐lifes,   Père   Tanguy   also   moves   between   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionism  while  conveying  the  innovations  Van  Gogh  began  to  make  while  he   was   in   Paris.   Although   Père   Tanguy   falls   into   the   Neo-­‐Impressionistic   painterly   vocabulary,   the   elongated   brushstrokes   that   provide   texture   and   movement   in   Fritillaires  become  a  more  prevalent  aspect  of  the  painting,  complicating  the  figure-­‐ ground  relationship  and  furthering  the  overall  sensation  the  portrait  conveys.     Prior  to  working  on  Tanguy’s  image  in  Paris,  Potato  Eaters  (1885)  stands  as   the  best  example  of  Van  Gogh’s  Dutch  portraiture—he,  for  instance,  made  several                                                                                                                   202  Roskill  81-­‐85.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov  165-­‐169.  Zemel  201-­‐205.  See  also:  Elizabeth  Childs,  “Seeking  the   Studio   of   the   South:   Van   Gogh,   Gauguin,   and   Avant-­‐Garde   Identity,”   Vincent   Van   Gogh   and   the   Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Museum,  2001)  121-­‐122.     203  Zemel  204.         110   studies  of  the  central  female  figure  Cordina  de  Grout  (who  Van  Gogh  called  Sein)  of   which   Head   of   a   Peasant   Woman   with   a   Day   Cap   (March,   1885)   serves   as   an   example  [figure  29].204  Similar  to  Van  Gogh’s  Basket  of  Potatoes,  de  Grout’s  portraits   are  studies  of  color,  light,  texture,  and  expression.  “I  haven’t  made  a  head  yet,”  Van   Gogh  wrote  while  he  was  working  on  the  sketches,  “that’s  so  much  painted  with  the   soil.”205  Created  while  he  was  reading  Émile  Zola’s  Germinal  (1885),  a  novel  of  the   hard-­‐labor  coal  miner’s  experienced  in  nineteenth-­‐century  France,  the  portraits  of   Sein  attempt  to  convey  a  forlorn,  sorrowful  look  of  a  person  subject  to  the  obstacles   of   a   peasant’s   life. 206  Her   gaze   peers   off   to   the   side   and   her   simple   dress,   complexion,  and  cap  are  awash  in  brown  and  bear  the  mark  of  a  field  laborer.  In   Potato  Eaters,  Van  Gogh  situated  Sein’s  portrait  within  a  home  painted  (like  her  skin)   the  color  of  the  dirt,  connoting  the  family’s  livelihood.     Tanguy,   a   significant   figure   in   the   Parisian   avant-­‐garde,   was   a   subject   Van   Gogh   and   Bernard   painted   several   times.207  Van   Gogh’s   choice   to   paint   Tanguy   is   somewhat   similar   to   his   Dutch-­‐period   portrait   subjects   in   that   Van   Gogh   chose   a                                                                                                                   204  Trappeniers  161-­‐162.   205  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  505  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Thursday,  May  28,  1885.     206  Letter  505.  “I’ve  just  received  Germinal,  which  I  started  on  immediately.  I’ve  read  50  pages  of  it— which  I  think  splendid.  I  also  walked  there  once...  Regards,  thanks  again  for  Germinal,  I’m  still  reading   it  as  I  write.  It’s  splendid.”   207  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  92-­‐94.           111   financially   struggling   working-­‐class   shopkeeper   with   socialist   politics.   Despite   Tanguy’s   economic   situation,   he   supported   artists   with   a   free   venue   and   paint   supplies  on  credit  or  through  a  trade.  Tanguy  is  similar  to  the  family  in  the  Potato   Eaters  whose  meager  livelihood  and  commitment  to  work  connected  to  Van  Gogh’s   study   of   laborers   throughout   his   body   of   imagery.   According   to   Bernard—whose   short   essay   “Julien   Tanguy,   Called   Le   Père   Tanguy”   (1908)   explains   the   unique   relationship  between  the  shopkeeper  and  Van  Gogh—Tanguy  was  as  interested  in   the  artist’s  socialist  politics  as  he  was  in  his  paintings.208     In  an  artistic  way,  the  choice  to  depict  Tanguy  is  significant  in  terms  of  the   emerging  and  established  painters  from  whom  Van  Gogh  was  learning.  Van  Gogh   could  be  found  often  in  Tanguy’s  shop,  where  he  “practically  lived,”  and  where  he   met   painters   contributing   to   the   avant-­‐garde   theories   in   the   Parisian   community,   such   as   Cézanne   and   Signac.209  Like   an   “apostle”   who   had   found   a   sympathetic   leader,   a   “sage,”   Van   Gogh   defined   “his   own   artistic   movement”   as   Tanguy   listened.210  In  turn,  the  shopkeeper  “venerated”  Van  Gogh’s  paintings  as  a  “tangible   manifestation   of   his   hopes   and   dreams.”211  Tanguy   supported   Van   Gogh   with                                                                                                                   208  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  93.   209  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  93.   210  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  92-­‐93.   211  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  92-­‐93.         112   supplies  and  allowed  him  to  exhibit  works  in  the  shop  (although  the  painter  had  an   altercation  with  the  shop  owner’s  wife).212    The  September  after  Van  Gogh’s  arrival   in   Paris,   he   had   been   able   to   hang   a   painting   in   the   shop   with   the   help   of   two   dealers,  which  was  his  first  “beginning”  as  an  exhibiting  artist  in  Paris,  and  around   this   time   he   painted   Tanguy.213  Tanguy’s   portraits   are   symbolic   of   the   energetic   community  in  which  Van  Gogh  found  himself  and  a  way  to  assert  his  entry  into  a   realm  of  newly  developed  painterly  techniques.   Van   Gogh   painted   three   portraits   of   Tanguy   that   speak   to   the   artist’s   developing  theories,  leading  from  Sein’s  monochromatic  expression  and  toward  the   type  of  experiential  sensation  Fénéon  described.  Van  Gogh’s  approach  was  in  some   ways  similar  to  Sein’s  portrait,  but  his  paint  application  and  use  of  color  relates  to   the  Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists.    Before  creating  Tanguy’s  portrait  against                                                                                                                   212  Vincent  referred  to  Tanguy  in  two  letters  he  wrote  to  Théo  while  in  Paris,  letter  571  and  572.  In   letter  571,  written  to  Théo  from  Paris  sometime  between  July  17th  and  19th,  1887,  he  commented  on   the  incident  with  Tanguy’s  wife  (see  note  8).  “Because  remember  when  I  started  in  Asnières,  I  had   lots  of  canvases  and  Tanguy  was  very  good  to  me.  He  still  is,  when  it  comes  down  to  it,  but  his  old   witch  of  a  wife  noticed  what  was  going  on  and  objected  to  it.  Now  I  gave  Tanguy’s  wife  a  piece  of  my   mind  and  said  it  was  her  fault  if  I  wouldn’t  buy  anything  else  from  them.  Père  Tanguy’s  wise  enough   to  keep  quiet,  and  he’ll  do  what  I  ask  of  him  all  the  same.”  Tanguy  often  allowed  artists  to  trade   paintings  for  supplies,  and  this  was  a  habit  with  which  his  wife  disagreed.  See  also:  Bernard,  “Julien   Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  93.  According  to  Bernard,  Van  Gogh  brought  Tanguy  to  Le   Tambourin,  a  tavern  that  “greatly  upset  Tanguy’s  good  wife,  who  could  scarcely  imagine  innocent  and   infantile  reasons  for  such…escapades.”       213  Letter  569  (see  note  12)  to  Livens.  “What  regards  my  chances  of  sale,  look  here,  they  are  certainly   not  much  but  still   I  do  have  a  beginning.”  In   letter  718  (see  note  3),  Van  Gogh  confirmed  that  he   started  showing  work  in  at  Paris  Père  Tanguy’s,  writing  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Saturday,  November   10,  1888.  “There  were  few  canvases  at  Tanguy’s  place  first  of  all…”         113   a  wall  of  Japanese  prints,  Van  Gogh  made  two  other  portraits  of  Tanguy  in  1887.214     In  the  first  of  Van  Gogh’s  portraits,  Tanguy  wears  the  apron  of  a  paint-­‐shop  owner   [figure  30].  This  portrait  connects  to  his  previous  Dutch  paintings;  although  Tanguy’s   skin  is  brighter,  the  overall  tone  of  the  painting  is  considered  through  a  limited  color   palette.  Whereas  the  earlier  portrait  commits  to  an  ochre  hue,  the  latter  portrait   meets  some  of  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist  objectives  Fénéon  outlined.     In   Père   Tanguy,   Van   Gogh   positioned   the   paint-­‐shop   owner   against   a   backdrop  of  Japanese  prints.  Tanguy  did  not  sell  Japanese  prints  in  his  shop,  so  Van   Gogh  aimed  to  locate  the  influential  shop  owner  among  his  own  pictorial  influences.   The  shopkeeper  appears  as  a  worker,  a  socialist,  indicated  with  his  “planter’s  hat”   and  jacket.215  His  torso  is  fully  frontal  and  his  gaze  stares  directly  at  the  viewer  “like   a  Buddha.”216  Van  Gogh  captured,  in  Bernard’s  view,  Tanguy’s  “upright  character,”   his  “tender  and  soft”  nature,  a  man  who  literally  put  “the  materials  for”  the  artists’   work  into  their  hands.  217  Van  Gogh  mediated  the  subject  through  the  materials— brushes,  tubes  of  paint,  canvases—Tanguy  provided.  Tanguy’s  hands  are  clasped  in   the  same  way  he  spoke  in  person—“he  would  bend  over  a  little  and  rub  his  hands                                                                                                                   214  Zemel  202-­‐205.   215  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  94.   216  Homburg  76.  Childs  121-­‐122.       217  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  94.           114   together   while   speaking   to   you.” 218  In   Van   Gogh’s   portrait,   the   viewer   can   experience   Tanguy’s   essence,   talking   about   art,   while   observing   Japanese   prints   behind   the   figure,   as   if   a   reference   to   Tanguy’s   thoughts.     Considered   within   the   context  of  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition,  Père  Tanguy  provides  the  perspective  of  a   figure  supportive  of  the  new  techniques.    Situated  among  Van  Gogh’s  works,  the   portrait   symbolizes   a   new   mode   of   painting   and   positions   the   viewer   in   dialogue   with   one   of   the   people   responsible   for   Van   Gogh’s   new   ideals   and   those   of   an   emerging  artistic  community.    Formally,  the  prints  share  the  blue  of  Tanguy’s  jacket   and  the  two  images  of  the  Japanese  women  flank  his  torso,  their  gaze  generating  an   implied  line  toward  his  body.     In   contrast   to   Père   Tanguy,   Bernard   depicted   the   shopkeeper   in   formal,   bourgeois  attire  [figure  31].  Vertical  paint  strokes  evident  on  Tanguy’s  face  suggest   that   Bernard   attempted   to   render   his   complexion   but   aimed   to   leave   strokes   unblended,  using  complementary  red  and  violets  to  give  shape  to  Tanguy’s  features.   The   decorative   background   prints   and   the   flat   shape   of   Tanguy’s   torso   relate   to   Bernard’s  portrait  of  his  grandmother  (exhibited  at  the  Grand  Bouillon)  [figure  8]  in   which  un-­‐modulated  shapes  represent  the  figures’  forehead,  hat,  and  dress.  Bernard   conceived   of   the   Portrait   of   the   Artist’s   Grandmother   through   the   ideals   of   Cloisonism,   setting   off   his   grandmother’s   features   with   thick   black   contour   lines.                                                                                                                   218  Bernard,  “Julien  Tanguy,  Called  Le  Père  Tanguy”  in  Stein  94.         115   Although  Bernard  used  simplified  shapes,  and  Van  Gogh  modeled  forms  with  stroke   and   broken   color,   they   both   arrived   at   a   somewhat   flattened   composition   that   translated   the   figure’s   individuality   through   the   artist’s   temperament.   Fénéon   underscored   that   the   Neo-­‐Impressionist   canvases   were   abstract   and   thus   not   “uniform.”219  “Each   of   them,”   he   wrote,   referring   to   Pissarro,   Signac,   and   Seurat,   “stresses  his  disparity…through  his  own  interpretation  of  the  emotional  meaning  of   colors…but   never   through   a   monopoly   of   deft   studio   tricks.”220  Bernard   and   Van   Gogh  too  found  differing  modes  to  craft  a  portrait.     Thomson  notes  that  Père  Tanguy  does  not  show  an  allegiance  to  the  petit   boulevard   painters. 221  Thomson’s   point   of   view   can   be   understood   in   the   brushstrokes   and   influence   of   Japonisme   found   in   the   flat   shapes   and   the   compounded   figure-­‐ground   relationship.   The   petit   boulevard   artists   experimented   with  varying  approaches.  The  use  of  violet  undertones  in  Tanguy’s  beard  and  hands   in  Van  Gogh’s  Père  Tanguy  relates  to  the  Impressionist  way  of  modeling  shadow.   Van  Gogh  did  not  employ  the  dot-­‐like  stroke  of  Nèo-­‐Impressionism  in  Père  Tanguy.   He  did  use  complementary  hues—a  Prussian  blue  jacket  set  against  a  yellow  print—                                                                                                                 219  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.   220  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.   221  Thomson  76.             116   and   individual   strokes   that,   in   Fénéon’s   words,   “attuned   [color]   on   the   canvas   according   to   the   law   of   simultaneous   contrast   by   another   series   of   strokes.”222  In   Van   Gogh’s   earliest   portrait   of   Tanguy,   the   painter   addressed   hue   on   the   palette   prior  to  applying  medium  to  the  canvas.   In  the  portrait  with  Japanese  prints,  the   brushstrokes  on  Tanguy’s  trousers,  for  instance,  are  individual  brush  marks  in  light   blues,  umbers,  and  ochres  and  move  lengthwise  across  his  body,  indicating  the  curve   of  his  upper  leg.  Van  Gogh  considered  color  as  hue  related  to  hue.  The  painting  as  a   whole  reads  flatly—Tanguy  does  not  protrude  or  appear  to  be  firmly  seated  on  a   stool.  Although  there  are  a  few  deep-­‐toned  marks  between  his   legs  to   indicate  a   shadow,   for   the   most   part,   he   appears   in   outline   against   the   prints.   Here,   the   complementary   yellow-­‐blue,   green-­‐red   relationships   and   the   compressed   figure-­‐ ground   relationship   speak   to   Tanguy’s   role   in   the   new-­‐found   position   Van   Gogh   aimed   to   secure,   an   avant-­‐garde   painter   exploring   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionism  and  exhibiting  in  a  new  market.  Tanguy  is  a  laborer,  but,  through  the   artist’s  attention  to  the  surface,  the  shopkeeper  is  a  construction  within  a  canvas,  a   symbol  of  the  delicate  divide  between  what  we  see  and  what  can  be  transformed  in   medium.       The  painter  had  hoped  to  sell  his  works,  an  aim  throughout  his  career,  and   Tanguy’s  shop  gave  him  the  opportunity  to  try  to  do  so.  The  painter  hung  a  few  of                                                                                                                   222  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  161.         117   the  landscapes  (although  we  do  not  know  which  images)  from  Clichy  and  Asnières  in   the  shop,  thinking  that  they  may  be  hard  to  sell.  “In  time,”  Van  Gogh  wrote,  “people   will  see  that  there’s  open  air  and  good  cheer  in  them”  and  that  they  would  be  fitting   to  hang  in  a  dining  room.223    Tanguy  invited  the  painter  to  hang  a  work  in  his  front   window  and  the  landscapes  of  Clichy  and  Asnières  may  have  been  similar  to  those   included   in   the   Grand   Bouillon   Exhibition.   That   Van   Gogh   choose   to   include   a   portrait  of  Tanguy  in  front  of  Japanese  prints  along  with  the  landscapes,  may  suggest   that  he  paid  an  homage  to  the  shop  keeper  for  supporting  the  images  he  had  been   painting  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine,  and  the  transformative  approach  his  painting   practice  took.    The  painting  of  Tanguy  in  form  and  subject  represents  the  ideals  Van   Gogh  supported  and  the  way  he  wanted  to  be  perceived  within  the  Parisian  artistic   community—as   a   painter   who   used   his   medium   expressively,   to   convey   the   experience   of   Tanguy,   a   leader   in   the   painter’s   new   conceptually   inventive   community.                                                                                                                           223  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  572  to  Théo  from  Paris  between  Saturday  July  23  and  Monday  July  25  1887.   “I  saw  Tanguy  yesterday  and  he  put  a  canvas  I  had  just  done  in  his  window,  I’ve  done  four  since  you   left,  and  I  have  a  big  one  on  the  go.  I  am  well  aware  that  these  big,  long  canvases  are  hard  to  sell,  but   in  time  people  will  see  that  there’s  open  air  and  good  cheer  in  them.  Now  the  whole  lot  will  make  a   decoration  for  a  dining  room  or  a  house  in  the  country.”         118   Industrial  Landscapes  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition   As  Van  Gogh  began  to  formulate  what  would  become  his  unique  brushstroke   and   compositional   strategies   and   move   away   from   his   Dutch-­‐period   methods,   he   met  and  painted  with  Signac  and  Bernard.  In  1887,  Signac  (in  his  early  twenties)  and   Bernard  (in  his  late  teens)  were  young  painters  considering  new  techniques  within   the   scope   of   Impressionism   and   Neo-­‐Impressionism   and   were   developing   what   would  become  their  respective  recognizable  styles.  The  three  painters  sometimes   worked  together  in  Clichy  and  Asnières  during  spring  1887  (when  Fénéon  published   “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme,”)  and  exhibited  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  in  the  fall.  Working   closely  with  Signac  and  Bernard,  Van  Gogh  organized  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition   that   situated   their   distinct   landscapes   among   one   another’s,   a   manifesto   of   the   emerging  concepts  with  which  they  engaged.     Though  they  were  exploring  their  new  ideas  in  1887,  Van  Gogh’s,  Bernard’s,   and  Signac’s  1885  and  1886  imagery  developed  from  different  modes  of  landscape   painting.   Van   Gogh’s   Dutch-­‐period   landscapes,   such   as   The   Parsonage   Garden   in   Snow  (1885)  [figure  32]  shows  his  consideration  of  the  figure  against  a  garden.  As  he   generally  did  in  this  period,  the  artist  felt  that  exploring  the  subject  matter  through  a   limited   color   scheme   situated   the   figure   in   his   or   her   space,   allowing   the         119   environment  to  literally  shape  the  figure.224  The  clergyman,  for  instance,  has  knotted   limbs  that  reflect  the  gnarly  quality  of  tree  trunks  signifying  his  hard  work  readying   his  garden  for  spring.     Whereas   Van   Gogh   developed   landscape   imagery   in   the   monochromatic   palette  he  used  in  The  Netherlands,  in  1886  Bernard  was  exposed  to  the  gestural,   comma-­‐like  mark  of  the  Impressionists.  Bernard’s  Verger  à  Pont-­‐Aven  (August  1886)   [figure  33]  draws  from  both  Pissarro’s  and  Seurat’s  canvases  from  the  8me  Exposition   de   peinture.225  Broken   brushstrokes,   a   somewhat   geometric   delineation   of   the   picture   plane,   and   lack   of   depth   resemble   Pissarro’s   Apple   Pickers.   Bernard   attempted   to   emulate   the   tree’s   color   by   separating   hue—greens,   blues,   ochre,   sienna—to  compose  the  unified  expression  of  summer  foliage.  Bernard  noted  that   he   and   Van   Gogh   followed   the   Impressionists   and   together   they   worked   “at   the                                                                                                                   224  Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   483   to   Théo   around   February   26,   1885   from   Nuenen   (almost   one   year   before  arriving  in  Paris)  and  commented  on  Parsonage  Garden  in  the  Snow:  “I  painted  a  few  more   studies  of  our  garden  when  there  was  snow  on  it.  The  landscape  has  changed  greatly  since  then—we   now   have   magnificent   evening   skies   of   lilac   and   gold,   above   the   tonal   silhouettes   of   the   houses   between   the   masses   of   the   coppices,   which   are   a   ruddy   colour,   above   which   rise   slender   black   poplars—while  the  foregrounds  are  blanched  and  bleached  green,  varied  by  strips  of  black  earth  and   dry,  pale  reeds  along  the  sides  of  the  ditches.  I  see  all  that,  too—I  find  it  as  superb  as  anyone  else— but  what  interests  me  even  more  is  the  proportion  of  a  figure,  the  division  of  the  oval  of  a  head,  and  I   have  no  grasp  on  the  rest  until  I  have  more  mastery  of  the  figure.  In  short—the  figure  first—for  my   part,   I   can’t   understand   the   rest   without   it,   and   it’s   the   figure   that   creates   the   mood.   I   can   understand,  though,  that  there  are  people  like  Daubigny  and  Harpignies  and  Ruisdael  and  so  many   others,  who  are  absolutely  and  irresistibly  carried  away  by  the  landscape  itself;  their  work  is  totally   satisfying  because  they  themselves  were  satisfied  by  sky  and  soil  and  a  pool  of  water  and  a  bush.   However,  I  think  what  Israëls  said  about  a  Dupré  is  a  mighty  clever  saying—it’s  just  like  a  painting  of  a   figure.”   225  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  196.           120   French   Renaissance…[feeling]   more   French   than   ever   in   this   task;”   and   in   Paris   Vincent   and   Théo   were   “in   their   homeland.”226  Rather   than   make   many   careful   studies,  Bernard  and  Van  Gogh  had  an  enthusiasm  for  painting  outdoors  and  turned   their  attention  to  Paris’s  city  streets  and  suburban  landscapes.  From  the  rue  Lepic,   Van  Gogh  set  out  for  a  day’s  work  with  several  large  canvases  strapped  to  his  back.   He  returned  at  the  end  of  the  day—having  painted  within  Paris’s  neighborhoods,   such  as  Montmartre,  Asnières,  and  Clichy—with  a  “portable  museum,  wherein  were   culled  all  the  emotions  of  the  day.”227  When  he  saw  the  paintings,  Bernard  “savored   their   charm…because   [he]   lived   in   those   places…they   were   the   objects   of   [his]   solitary   walks   and   because   they   were   rendered   with   the   soul   that   [he]   felt   in   them.”228  Van  Gogh  could  make  three  paintings  a  day.  And,  along  his  way,  Van  Gogh   often  visited  Bernard  while  the  latter  was  in  his  family  home  in  Asnières  [figure  34].   These   visits   led   to   painting   Tanguy’s   portraits   and   to   the   Clichy   and   Asnières   landscapes,  where  he  worked  with  Signac  as  well.     Signac   saw   Seurat’s   Bather’s   in   Asnières   (1883-­‐1884)   at   the   Société   de   Artistes  Indépendantes  in  1884  and  met  Pissarro  in  1885.  By  1886,  he  kept  a  studio   next  to  Seurat’s  on  the  Avenue  de  Clichy  in  Montmartre.  Although  Signac  is  typically                                                                                                                   226  Bernard,  “Preface”  in  Stein  91.   227  Bernard,  “Preface”  in  Stein  91.   228  Bernard,  “Preface”  in  Stein  91.         121   associated   with   pointillism   in   1886,   that   year,   he,   like   Bernard,   moved   between   experimenting  with  an  Impressionist  and  a  pointillist  practice.  Prior  to  this  time,  he   used  violet  undertones  similar  to  Monet  in  Pierre  Hâlé’s  Windmill,  Saint-­‐Briac  (1884)   and  expressionist  strokes  in  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,   like  Monet’s  Apple  Trees  in  Bloom  beside  the  Water  (1880),  a  painting  Signac  had   seen  in  1880  and  had  acquired  for  his  collection  in  1932  [figures  35-­‐37].229  Signac   exhibited  both  Pierre  Hâlé  and  Brisk  Breeze   in  the  8me  Exposition  de  peinture,  the   only   Impressionist   exhibition   in   which   Signac   participated—he   submitted   fifteen   paintings  and  three  drawings.  From  the  body  of  work  exhibited  at  the  Impressionist   exhibition,  Signac’s  early   interest   in   industrial  Paris   is  evident.  Signac’s  La  Seine  à   Asnières:  la  berge  (November  1885)  and  Paris.  Boulevard  de  Clichy.  Le  neige  (January   1886)  [figures  38  &  39],  also  included  in  the  eighth  Impressionist  exhibition,  speak  to   the  influence  from  Monet  and  Pissarro  whose  images  of  the  streets  of  Paris  capture   the   pace   of   modern   life.   In   Fénéon’s   words,   Signac   “knows   how   to   translate   the   melancholy   overcast   weather,   imprisoning   the   banks   in   its   waters:   as   in   his   Boulevard   de   Clichy.   Le   neige   and   his   Banks   at   Asnières   (November   1885).”230  In   Boulevard  de  Clichy,  there  is  a  clear  sense  of  depth,  and  he  also  shows  atmospheric                                                                                                                   229  Marina   Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon,   “Signac   as   a   Collector,”   Signac,   1863-­‐1935,   eds.   Marina   Ferretti-­‐ Bocquillon  et  al.  (New  Haven:  Yale  University  Press,  2001)  55.     230  Fénéon,  “Les   Impressionnistes  en  1886”   in  Halperin  37.  “Il  sait  aussi  traduire   la  mélancolie  des   temps  gris,  emprisonner  ses  eaux  dans  des  quais:  et  l’on  a  son  Boulevard  de  Clichy  par  la  neige  et  sa   Berge  à  Asnières  (November  1885).”         122   effects,   such   as   the   snowy-­‐fog   and   the   sun   reflecting   on   the   rippling   Seine   in   La   berge.     In  La  berge,  he  appears  to  have  included  a  reference  to  Monet’s  studio-­‐boat.   In   the   painting,   a   houseboat   resembling   the   one   Monet   painted   in   Studio   Boat   (1874)  [figure  40],  floats  on  the  bank.  Similar  to  the  opaque,  light-­‐green  color  and   structure   of   Monet’s   houseboat,   Signac’s   inclusion   ties   his   subject   matter   and   painterly   method   to   the   Impressionist   aesthetic.   While   several   canvases   vary   in   mark-­‐making   technique,   some   of   the   images   Signac   presented   in   1886   show   his   dedication  to  the  developing  pointillist  approach,  such  as  in  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy   (1886)   [figure   41].   Gas   Tanks   is   Neo-­‐Impressionist   in   paint   application   and   draws   from  an  Impressionist  practice  in  terms  of  color  and  figure-­‐ground  relationship.231     Due  in  part  to  Fénéon’s  discussion  of  Signac’s  work  in  his  Neo-­‐Impressionist   criticism,  by  1887,  Signac  was  a  significant  artist  in  the  realm  of  the  newly-­‐defined   theory,  had  many  artistic  connections,  and  wrote  on  art  (notably  a  1911  booklet  on   the  connection  between  Delacroix’s  work  and  Neo-­‐Impressionistic  ideals).  A  friend   of  Fénéon’s,  Seurat’s,  and  Pissarro’s,  Signac  met  Van  Gogh  in  1887  at  Tanguy’s  shop,   the  former  having  also  shown  his  works  in  the  paint  shop  as  well.232  Signac  and  Van                                                                                                                   231  John  Leighton,  “Out  of  Seurat’s  Shadow:  Signac,  1863-­‐1935,  An  Introduction,”  Signac,  1863-­‐1935,   eds.  Marina  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon  et  al.  (New  Haven:  Yale  University  Press,  2001)  5.   232  Roskill   89.   See   also:   Françoise   Cachin,   Paul   Signac   (Greenwich,   Connecticut:   New   York   Graphic   Society  Ltd.,  1971)  41-­‐51.           123   Gogh  painted  landscapes  together  in  the  spring  of  1887  in  Clichy,  Saint-­‐Ouen,  and   Asnières.  They  worked  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine  and,  in  Signac’s  words,  “lunched   at  an  open-­‐air  roadhouse,”  walking  back  to  Paris  along  the  Avenues  of  Saint-­‐Ouen  or   Clichy. 233  Van   Gogh   worked   intensely   while   with   Signac—he   “shouted   and   gesticulated,   brandishing   his   large,   freshly   painted…canvas   in   such   a   way   that   he   polychromed  himself  and  the  passerby.”234  Pissarro   joined  Signac   in  the  winter  of   1887  in  Asnières  as  well,  writing  to  his  son  Lucien  that  there  was  “…nothing  new   since  yesterday,  except  our  meeting  at  Asnières,  attended  by  Fénéon,  Seurat,  and   Signac.”235     On  the  banks  of  the  Seine  in  Clichy  and  Asnières,  Bernard,  Signac,  and  Van   Gogh  explored  the  signs  of  industry  that  fostered  the  economic  system  in  the  areas   north  of  Paris.  Signac  and  Van  Gogh  lived  in  Montmartre  and  set  out  for  the  day   walking  north  toward  Clichy  or  across  the  bridge  to  Asnières,  where  Bernard’s  and   Signac’s   families   had   homes.   North   of   Montmartre,   Clichy   and   Asnières   were   working-­‐class  suburbs  generally  undocumented  by  the  Impressionists,  but  Asnières                                                                                                                   233  A  letter  from  Paul  Signac  to  Gustave  Coquiot,  written  in  1923,  in  Stein  89.   234  Signac  quoted  in  Stein  89.   235  Pissarro  quoted  in  Camille  Pissarro:  Letters  to  His  Son  Lucien  93.  Pissarro  wrote  to  his  son  Lucien   on  January  14,  1887.  Signac  and  Van  Gogh  maintained  a  friendship  after  Van  Gogh  moved  to  Arles  as   well:  one  time  Signac  visited  Van  Gogh  in  the  hospital,  and  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  thank  him,  noting  that   Signac’s  profound  friendship  helped  him  heal.  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter  756  to  Signac  from  Arles  on   Wednesday  April  10,  1889.         124   was  an  integral  part  of  Seurat’s  body  of  work.  As  emerging  artists,  Bernard,  Signac,   and   Van   Gogh   struck   out   in   a   location   that   was   associated   with   Seurat’s   Neo-­‐ Impressionistic   imagery   and   in   neighborhoods   that   provided   goods   to   the   city.   Bernard  and  Signac  were  in  the  process  of  changing  their  surfaces  to  reflect  their   individual   approaches.   Signac   was   honing   his   Neo-­‐Impressionistic   technique   and   Bernard  was  working  through  Cloisonism.  Signac’s  and  Bernard’s  approaches  directly   affected   Van   Gogh’s   paintings   formally   and   conceptually,   particularly   those   from   Clichy   and   Asnières.   Bernard’s,   Signac’s,   and   Van   Gogh’s   respective   factory   landscapes  have  commonalities  because  they  considered  the  canvas  as  a  symbol  of   their  environment  and,  through  direct  and  indirect  references  of  industry  and  labor,   they  suggested  the  effects  of  factory  life.  The  industrial  landscapes  Signac,  Bernard,   and  Van  Gogh  generated  in  1887  show  the  differing  techniques  the  painters  of  the   petit   boulevard   undertook.   Like   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐Impressionists,   they   neither  sought  a  unified  approach  nor  a  similar  interpretation  of  a  painterly  ideal.     The  landscape  scenes  Van  Gogh  painted  in  Clichy  and  Asnières  and  exhibited   in  the  Grand  Bouillon—Factories  at  Clichy  and  Factory  at  Clichy  [figures  10  &  11]— relate  to  the  factory  images  by  Signac,  such  as  Sunlight,  Quai  de  Clichy,  Opus  (1887)   [figure  42],  a  pointillist  painting,  and  those  of  Bernard,  such  as  Ragpickers  at  Clichy   (1887),   also   exhibited   at   the   Grand   Bouillon,   and   Les   Chiffonniers:   Ponts   de   fer   à   Asnières  (1887)  [figure  9  &  43].  Together,  they  described  the  industrial   landscape         125   along  the  Seine’s  banks  in  a  facture  that,  although  distinct  in  the  painters’  respective   works,   derived   from   Fénéon’s   suggestion   to   “synthesize   the   landscape   into   a   definitive  aspect  that  perpetuates  one’s  sensation  of  it.”236  For  Van  Gogh,  Bernard,   and   Signac,   to   develop   the   pictorial   plane   through   a   synthesis   meant   to   consider   objects  as  forms  and  shapes  in  terms  of  color  to  privilege  an  overall  symbolic  image.   The   planes   of   their   canvases   became   more   compounded—similar   to   the   figure-­‐ ground  relationship  in  Van  Gogh’s  portrait  of  Tanguy  with  Japanese  prints.  To  this   end,  they  considered  the  function  of  the  scene  as  a  vehicle  for  the  canvas’s  affect,  as   a  product  of  the  artist’s  selection  and  imaginative  painterly  description.     Van   Gogh’s   Factory   at   Clichy   and   Factories   at   Clichy   both   have   an   Impressionistic  sky,  but  overall  develop  an  expressionistic  facture  that  forms  shapes   to  enhance  the  images’  symbolism.  Factory  at  Clichy  depicts  an  alley  among  factory   buildings,   the   foreground   path   rises   up   to   the   viewer,   undulating   toward   the   spectator’s  body—the  brushstrokes  assert  a  sense  of  perspective  but  move  directly   down  toward  the  edge  of  the  canvas  in  the  foreground.  The  viewer  is  met  with  a   small  figure,  a  factory  worker,  created  monochromatically  with  a  few  brushstrokes   much   like   the   figures   in   Monet’s   Impression   Sunrise   (1874).   The   figure   does   not   seem   to   acknowledge   the   spectator’s   presence.   The   strokes   invite   the   viewer,   incorporating  the  spectator   in  a  pictorial  narrative  of  walking  along  the  path.  The                                                                                                                   236  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionisme”  in  Dorra  162.         126   experience   locates   the   participant   in   the   midst   of   a   working   factory   among   the   numerous  structures  that  made  up  a  compound.  The  lush  white  volumetric  material   billowing  out  of  the  gates  alongside  the  path  juxtaposes  the  dirty,  well-­‐worn  quality   of  the  buildings.  The  shapes  of  the  buildings  seem  to  lie  on  top  of  one  another  rather   than   show   depth   through   shadow   or   perspectival   angle.   The   structures,   grouped   together,   suggest   the   constricting   space   the   factories   provide   among   textiles   and   smoke.  The  brick-­‐like  brushstrokes  of  the  chimney  appear  in  the  sky  as  well,  belying   the   sky’s   translucent   quality   with   tactile   architectural   details.   In   contrast   to   the   rectilinear  forms  of  the  buildings,  the  painting’s  composition  consists  of  forms  that   foster   the   curvilinear   perspective   of   the   path,   circling   in   toward   center,   the   end   point  of  which  is  the  fellow  worker  cloaked  in  a  color  similar  to  that  emitting  from   the  chimneys,  a  sign  of  his  bodily  connection  to  labor  and  a  confining  factory  life.     Van  Gogh  depicted  a  scene  from  outside  a  factory-­‐building  maze,  showing   the  industrial  complex  rising  beyond  a  field  of  grasses  in  Factories  at  Clichy.237  It  is                                                                                                                   237  Cornelia  Homburg  most  recently  refers  this  painting  as  Factories  at  Asnières,  Seen  from  the  Quai   de  Clichy  in  Van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard  (New  York:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum  in   association   with   Rizzoli   International   Publications,   Inc.,   2001).   I   find   it   unlikely   that   the   factory   complex  Van  Gogh  depicted  was  located  in  Asnières.  Homburg’s  title  suggests  that  Van  Gogh  would   have  been  working  from  the  docks  of  Clichy,  looking  across  the  Seine,  past  the  docks  at  Asnières  and   into   a   complex   of   factories.   Although   Van   Gogh   would   not   have   mimetically   depicted   a   factory   complex,  it  seems  out  of  context  to  consider  that  he  would  have  been  looking  across  a  body  of  water   or  along  the  docks  to  paint  a  field  of  grasses.  See  also:  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  146,  notes   1  and  2.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov  points  out  that  the  location  of  the  factories  depicted  in  Factories  at  Clichy  is   unknown.  The  buildings  Van  Gogh  depicted,  she  notes,  do  not  resemble  the  gas  tanks  at  L’Usine  à  gaz   de  Clichy  as  Paul  Signac  realized  them  in  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy  (1886).  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  complex   was  quite  large,  made  up  of  a  number  of  different  types  of  buildings,  and  could  have  been  depicted   from   within   the   complex   in   Signac’s   case   and   from   afar   in   Van   Gogh’s.   Based   on   van   Gogh’s,         127   possible  that  Van  Gogh  was  inspired  by  a  factory  such  as  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  a   large  complex  of  buildings  located  along  the  Seine  and  bounded  by  the  Boulevard   National   on   the   northeast   and   Rue   Chasses   on   the   southeast   [figures   44-­‐46].   As   Signac  noted,  he  and  Van  Gogh  walked  back  and  forth  from  Montmartre  to  Clichy   and  across  the  Seine  to  Asnières  and  would  have  passed  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  or   have  seen  it  from  a  distance  as  it  occupied  quite  a  large  portion  of  land  along  the   banks.  Signac  depicted  one  of  the  factory’s  buildings  located  among  the  complex’s   seven  gas  tanks,  which  appear  behind  the  central  structure  of  Signac’s  Gas  Tanks  at   Clichy.  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  also  included  three  rectangular  buildings  that  housed   the  gas  factory  itself,  a  wheelwright  shop,  and  landing  cranes  on  the  river’s  banks.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Bernard’s,  and  Signac’s  depictions  along  the  banks  and  docks  of  the  Seine  from  both  the  Clichy  and   Asnières  areas,  the  grassland  Van  Gogh  depicted  in  Factories  at  Clichy  does  not  relate  to  images  along   the  docks.  I  think  the  painting  may  be  inspired  by  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  which  was  located  in  an   area  Signac  noted  he  and  Van  Gogh  walked  through  along  the  Avenue  de  Clichy  heading  to  paint  on   the   docks   of   Clichy   and   Asnières.   See   also:   John   Rewald,   Post-­‐Impressionism:   From   Van   Gogh   to   Gauguin  (New  York:  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  1978)  64.  Bernard  referred  to  the  painting  as  Factories   at  Clichy  in  his  account  of  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibition.  Père  Tanguy,  who  was  in  possession  of  the   painting,  first  sold  it  for  100  francs  in  the  Hôtel  Drouot  sale  in  1894.  On  the  painting’s  frame,  there  is   an  inscription  in  ink:  Die  Hüth  Werke.  Previous  titles  include:  Die  Hüth  Werke,  Die  Hüttenwerke  and   The  Huth  Factory.  The  painting  changed  hands  a  number  of  times  until  The  Saint  Louis  Museum  of  Art   acquired  it   in  1958,  where  they  list   it  as  Factories  at  Clichy.  For  information  about  the  sale  of  the   painting   and   previous   titles,   see:   Saint   Louis   Museum   of   Art,   nd,   http://www.slam.org/emuseum/code/emuseum.asp?style=Browse&currentrecord=1&page=search& profile=objects&searchdesc=van%20gogh&quicksearch=van%20gogh&newvalues=1&newstyle=single &newcurrentrecord=1.   For   a   discussion   of   the   painting,   see:   John   House,   “Towards   the   Modern   Landscape,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint   Louis:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum,  2001)  165-­‐166,  168.  On  the  facture  in  Factories  at  Clichy,  see  also:   James   H.   Rubin,   Impressionism   and   the   Modern   Landscape:   Productivity,   Technology,   and   Urbanization  from  Manet  to  Van  Gogh  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles,  and  London:  University  of  California   Press,  2008)  164-­‐165.             128   The  semi-­‐rural  area  between  Montmartre  and  Clichy  bordered  the  factory  on  the   southwest.  Had  Van  Gogh  approached  the  factory  from  that  vantage  point—facing   away  from  Montmartre  and  toward  Clichy—the  factory  compound’s  scale,  series  of   structures,   and   various   types   of   buildings   would   have   eclipsed   the   landscape.   Moreover,  he  would  have  been  looking  toward  Asnières,  which  also  had  a  number  of   factories   as   well   and   could   attribute   to   the   endless   view   of   smokestacks   on   the   painting’s  horizon.     In  Factories  at  Clichy,  factories  and  domestic  life  merge,  and  the  notions  of   an   industrial   presence   infuse   the   environment.   Van   Gogh   provided   an   expansive   view,  indicating  the  overwhelming  quality  of  a  factory  in  contrast  to  the  small-­‐scale   of   a   couple,   dwarfed   by   the   flues   extending   into   the   sky.   In   this   landscape,   smokestacks  spill  into  the  air  far  off  on  the  horizon  while  the  couple  pauses,  arms   linked,  to  observe  a  spectacle  of  modern  industry.  Rather  than  marvel  at  a  sunset,   they  see  a  horizon  that  has  been  obscured  by  an  unending  series  of  smoke  stacks.   Compositionally,  the  couple  aligns  with  the  largest  smoke  stack  in  the  center  of  the   canvas.     The  smokestacks  in  Factories  at  Clichy  rise  among  roofs  of  homes  or  smaller   factory-­‐related  structures  and  are  similar  in  color  to  the  roof  in  Signac’s  Gas  Tanks.   In  Van  Gogh’s  painting,  though,  the  roofs  are  geometrically  simplified  through  use  of   line   and   quick   brushstrokes.   The   smaller   structures   stand   closely   to   a   fence   that         129   marks  a  boundary  between  the  open,  undeveloped  grasslands  in  which  the  couple   walks  and  the  complex  of  factories  so  congested  there  is  not  a  sliver  of  sky  between   the   buildings.   The   fence   divides   the   natural   world,   constructed   with   unblended   brushstrokes   of   light   blue,   green,   ochre,   and   Naples   yellow,   from   that   of   the   manufacturing  plants  depicted  in  rectilinear  shapes  and  in  darker  saturated  reds  and   violets.   The   facture   changes   beyond   the   fence   to   a   tightly   controlled   mark   and   unified   texture.   The   fence   figuratively   excludes   the   idiosyncratic   expressive   brushwork  from  the  industrial  commune,  suggesting  the  separation  of  nature  and   industry.     With   over   a   dozen   smoke   stacks,   Van   Gogh   suggested   pervasive   factory   emissions  and  the  impact  on  the  senses.  Through  the  implication  of  wind,  emulated   in  the  directionality  of  the  grasses  moving  toward  the  left  of  the  painting  in  the  same   course  as  the  smoke,  Van  Gogh  evokes  a  sense  of  movement  and  thus  a  synthesis  of   the  natural  and  industrial  realms  regardless  of  the  arbitrary  boundary  of  a  fence.  The   painting  itself,  Bernard  noted,  “smelled  so  strongly  of  coal  and  gas,”  conveying  the   atmosphere   in   which   it   was   painted. 238  Bernard’s   comment   is   synesthetic,   an   important   aspect   of   Symbolism.   Synesthesia   is   the   concept   that   the   participant’s                                                                                                                   238  Bernard  quoted  in  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  64.           130   body  has  been  affected  when  one  sense  triggers  another.239  In  Bernard’s  instance,   looking  at  Van  Gogh’s  image  of  smokestacks  informs  his  sense  of  smell,  creating  an   imaginative   experience   before   the   picture   plane   and   placing   the   spectator   in   the   position  of  the  artist  during  the  moment  of  creation.    Van  Gogh’s  Factories  at  Clichy   provided   Bernard   with   the   feeling   of   walking   through   the   industrial   suburban   commune.   Bernard’s   experience   also   connects   to   Fénéon’s   notion   regarding   the   temporality  of  the  work  of  art.  For  Fénéon,  the  viewer  experiences  the  image  anew   because  the  texture,  color,  and  forms  can  operate  to  convey  a  moment  in  action   each   time   a   viewer   stands   before   the   work.   240     This   is   antithetical   to   the   Impressionist   sense   of   “a   unique   moment   never   to   be   recaptured,”   one   fixed   transitory  instance.241     Factories   were   a   prominent   motif   in   Signac’s   landscapes   as   well,   though   unlike   Van   Gogh’s,   they   convey   a   sense   of   stillness   due   to   Signac’s   pointillist   application.  Although  they  maintain  a  sense  of  stasis,  Signac’s  unified  texture  and                                                                                                                   239  Lauren   Silvers,   “Beyond   the   Senses:   The   Cenesthetic   Poetics   of   French   Symbolism,”   Modern   Philology  112  no.  2  (November  2014):  381-­‐404.  See  also:  Wallace  Fowlie,  Poem  and  Symbol:  A  Brief   History  of  French  Symbolism  (University  Park  and  London:  The  Pennsylvania  State  University  Press,   1990).  Charles  Baudelaire’s  “Correspondances”  (1857),  The  Flowers  of  Evil  &  Paris  Spleen:  Poems  by   Charles  Baudelaire,  trans.  William  H.  Crosby  (Brockport,  NY:  BOA  Editions,  Ltd.,  1991)  28.  Although   Silvers  takes  issue  with  considering  Baudelaire’s  “Correspondances”  the  origin  of  synesthesia,  for  the   Parisian  Symbolist  writers  and  poets,  Baudelaire’s  body  of  work  and  the  ideals  therein  permeated  the   tenets  of  their  critical  discourse  (in  some  cases  directly,  such  as  in  G.-­‐Albert  Aurier’s  critical  accounts   of  Van  Gogh  and  Gauguin).     240  Ward  96.     241  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionisme”  in  Dorra  162.         131   surface   quality   relates   to   Fénéon’s   symbolically   constructed   canvas.   Signac   developed   a   committed   Neo-­‐Impressionistic   mark   in   images   of   Clichy,   such   as   in   Sunlight,  Quai  de  Clichy,  Opus,  located  on  the  Seine  downstream  from  the  tanks  at   L’Usine   à   gaz   de   Clichy   in   Gas   Tanks.   To   paint   Sunlight,   Signac   faced   northeast   (downstream)  toward  the  Pont  d’Asnières.242  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  on  the  Seine’s   south  bank  of  the  Clichy  docks  would  be  on  the  right  but  is  not  visible.  The  plant’s   coal  cranes  are  evident  on  the  right,  to  the  left  of  a  smoke  stack.  Here,  although  the   atmospheric  effect  of  the  sun  appears  to  be  the  focal  point  of  the  image,  the  overall   sense  of  shapes  take  primary  form.  The  light  marks,  typically  used  to  show  the  light’s   reflection   or   the   spatial   relationships   in   the   picture   plane,   tend   to   delineate   rectangular-­‐like  areas.  Signac  painted  the  foreground,  for  instance,  with  several  long   rectangles   outlined   with   lighter   hues   that   run   parallel   to   one   another   similar   to   perspectival  lines,  simplifying  the  docks.  The  lightest  parts  of  the  canvas,  such  as  the   bank   directly   behind   the   trees   and   the   building   to   the   right,   seem   to   not   be   representative  of  the  sun’s  fleeting  effects  and  the  nuances  of  daylight  but  more  so   a  product  of  Signac’s  intention  to  use  color  to  build  forms  with  outlines  of  highlights.   The  horizon  line,  similar  to  Van  Gogh’s  in  Factories,  is  obscured  by  (from  left  to  right)   the  bridge  crossing  the  Seine,  the  trees,  and  the  buildings  near  the  gas-­‐tank  plant,   which  was  set  back  from  the  docks.                                                                                                                     242  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon  128.         132   In  Ragpickers  in  Clichy  [figure  9]  and  Les  Chiffonniers:  Ponts  de  fer  à  Asnières   [figure  43],  similar  in  perspective  to  Signac’s  Sunlight,  Bernard  depicted  the  docks  of   the  Seine  on  the  Asnières  and  Clichy  banks.  In  both  images,  rag  pickers  dressed  in   contemporary  lower-­‐class  clothing  stroll  along  the  docks  of  the  Seine,  framed  with   signs  of  modern  life,  such  as  a  steam  train,  an  iron  bridge  and  oil-­‐company  cranes,   evident  on  the  left-­‐hand  side  of  Ragpickers.243  Although  the  landing  cranes  Bernard   depicted  are  not  identified,  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy’s  landing  cranes  were  located  on   the  Quai  de  Clichy  on  the  stretch  of  the  Seine’s  banks  the  gas  company  occupied.     Similar  to  Van  Gogh  and  Signac,  Bernard  obscured  the  horizon  with  signs  of  industry   in   Les   Chiffonniers.   Unlike   Van   Gogh   and   Signac,   he   diluted   hue   with   white   to   generate  an  opaque  surface  and  generally  did  not  allow  quick  brushwork  to  show.  In   1887  he  visited  Signac’s  studio  and,  regarding  Neo-­‐Impressionism,  Bernard  felt  that   although  the  application  of  paint  in  dots  or  broken  strokes  “was  good  for  the  vibrant   reproduction   of   Light,   it   spoilt   the   color,”   so   he   “instantly   adopted   an   opposite   theory”—Cloisonism.244  The   paintings   exemplify   Bernard’s   Cloisonism,   which   grew   to  be  highly  abstract  Synthetism  by  1888.  At  this  time,  Bernard  outlined  flat  shapes   of  un-­‐modulated  color  with  black  contour  lines,  depicted  figures  in  silhouette,  and                                                                                                                   243  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  200.         244  Bernard  quoted  in  Stevens  70.             133   geometrically   reduced   forms.   The   cranes,   for   instance   in   Ragpickers   are   vertical   Impressionistic   brushstrokes   and   the   locomotive’s   components   in   Les   Chiffonniers   are  squares  and  rectangles.245  He  simplified  signs  of  suburban  industry  to  a  painterly   vernacular  that  he,  in  some  ways,  shared  with  Signac  and  Van  Gogh.     That   Van   Gogh’s,   Bernard’s,   and   Signac’s   respective   canvases   replace   the   horizon   line   with   bridges,   industrial   buildings,   and   smoke   stacks,   imply   that   the   industrialized  landscape  eradicated,  in  some  respects,  the  natural.  Pissarro’s  images   of  work  and  industry  of  the  1860s,  in  contrast,  maintain  depth  through  atmospheric   perspective   and   reflection.   In   Barge   at   La   Roche-­‐Guyon   (circa   1865)   [figure   47],   laborers   load   a   barge   docked   on   the   banks   of   the   Seine   and,   in   the   distance,   although  a  boat’s  emissions  trail  above  the  river,  distant  rolling  hills  preserve  a  sense   of  the  natural  world  in  an  image  focused  on  labor.246  Pissarro’s  L’Ile  Lacroix  (1888,   probably   painted   in   late   1887)   [figure   48]   represents   his   return   to   Impressionist   ideals  after  his  foray  into  Neo-­‐Impressionism,  though  he  maintained  the  pointillist   approach.247  Along   the   banks   of   the   Seine   in   Rouen,   Pissarro   made   labor   and   industry  a  focus.  Although  he  used  smaller  strokes  and  constructed  a  unified  surface,   the  picture  plane  recedes,  with  a  clear,  central  site-­‐line  leading  to  a  soft,  tranquil,                                                                                                                   245  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  198-­‐199.   246  Rubin  79-­‐83.     247  Ward  115.         134   horizon  suggested  with  a  band  of  strokes  and  hue.  Although  a  barge  with  laborers   floats   in   the   foreground   and   a   chimney   releases   fumes   into   the   sky,   the   overall   structure   of   the   composition   relies   on   the   artist’s   ability   to   consider   atmospheric   effects  and  craft  a  convincing  three-­‐dimensional  space.  For  Bernard,  Signac,  and  Van   Gogh,   the   horizon   line   need   not   convey   depth,   denying   the   viewer   from   experiencing   the   landscape’s   space;   instead,   the   spectator’s   gaze   remains   in   a   shallow  space  confined  by  industry.       Although   Bernard,   Signac,   and   Van   Gogh   painted   in   Clichy   and   Asnières,   Bernard  argued  with  Signac  and  had  a  riff  with  the  pointillist  painter.  It  seems  that   Bernard  may  not  have  wanted  to  exhibit  with  Signac  at  the  Grand  Bouillon  Exhibit   and  was  going  to  pull  his  paintings  from  the  show.  Van  Gogh  urged  Bernard  to  find   common  ground  with  Signac  so  that  they  may  work  together.248  Above  all,  Van  Gogh   stressed  the  importance  of  being  open  to  painting  practices  emerging  at  the  time.   “If…you’ve  already  considered,”  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Bernard,  “that  Signac  and  the   others  doing  pointillism  often  make  very  beautiful  things  with  it—Instead  of  running   things  down  one  should  respect  them…especially  when  there’s  a  falling  out.”249  He   wrote  this  advice  shortly  (about  a  month)  after  the  Grand  Bouillon  exhibition  began.   Aiming  to  continue  what  Van  Gogh  started  in  the  exhibition—a  coming  together  of                                                                                                                   248  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  575  to  Bernard  from  Paris  in  December  1887.     249  Letter  575.           135   differing   painterly   modes   about   which   the   group   could   reflect—he   attempted   to   sooth  the  break  between  them.     That   Van   Gogh   included   his,   Bernard’s,   and   Signac’s   images   of   Clichy   and   Asnières  in  the  Grand  Bouillon  exhibition  suggests  that,  as  an  emerging  painter  in   the  Parisian  avant-­‐garde,  he  was  interested  in  exploring  varying  techniques  of  mark-­‐ making   and   color   that   lead   from   the   artist’s   idiosyncratic   translation   of   nature,   guided  by  their  respective  temperaments.  The  differences  in  the  paintings  indicate   that   he   was   open   to   the   possibilities   of   the   Neo-­‐Impressionists   but   was   also   interested  in  developing  his  own  approach.  In  terms  of  subject  matter,  the  artists   remain  connected  by  addressing  the  financial  means  of  the  neighborhoods,  but  they   innovate   in   their   own   ways:   Van   Gogh   through   expressionistic   facture,   Signac   through   the   overall   quality   of   his   surface   due   to   the   application   of   the   dot-­‐like   stroke,  and  Bernard  due  to  his  engagement  with  Cloisonism.     The  artists  connect  conceptually  through  Fénéon’s  ideals.  They  did  not,  for   instance,  develop  a  similarity  of  approach  but  rather  mediated  the  subject  through   their  respective  artistic  sensibilities.  Fénéon’s  1887  text  outlines  the  formal  aspects   of   Neo-­‐Impressionist   painting   that   Pissarro   feared   would   reveal   too   much   about   their   practices.   That   aspect   of   the   text   aside,   the   critic’s   overall   ideal   privileges   a   fictional  imagistic  creation  transcribed  in  medium  and  the  ability  metaphorically  to   convey   the   experience,   or,   in   his   terms,   the   sensation   of   the   landscape.   Signac’s         136   paint  application  aligns  with  Fénéon’s  formalist  definition  of  Neo-­‐Impressionism,  a   definition  Signac  had  a  hand  at  developing:  to  make  “individual  brushstrokes  [that]   are  the  outcome,  not  of  swift  dashes  of  the  brush.  But  of  the  application  of  minute   dots.”250  In   Sunlight,   Signac   is   not   necessarily   attempting   to   portray   the   light’s   reflection   on   the   water’s   surface   nor   modeling   with   bright   light.   Signac   suggests   sunlight  through  brightly  toned  shapes.  In  this  way,  Signac’s  canvas  leans  toward  an   organization   of   form   similar   to   Bernard’s.   Together,   Van   Gogh’s,   Bernard’s,   and   Signac’s   landscapes   lead   from   a   common   “stimulus”—factories   and   the   industrial   signs   connected   to   the   complex—and   interpret   the   “emotional   meaning   of   colors.”251  By   conveying   movement,   simplifying   forms   and   geometrizing   the   scene   before   them,   the   painters   addressed   a   pervasive   component   of   life   in   Clichy   and   Asnières  and  allowed  the  viewer  to  partake  in  this  experience.  Their  geometry  and   mark-­‐making  address  the  subject’s  essence,  reducing   it  to  a  grid-­‐like  pattern  of  a   factory  suburb  or  an  encompassing  series  of  factory  structures.  Unlike  their  work  of   the   years   prior,   in   which   they   emulated   the   Impressionist   rhetoric,   the   symbolic   ideation   of   landscape   factories   convey   how   the   industrial   complex   shaped   the   landscape   outside   of   Paris.   Van   Gogh’s   depiction   of   wind   symbolizes   the   pervasiveness   of   the   emissions,   Signac’s   bright-­‐hued   canvas   the   sun’s   presence                                                                                                                   250  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.   251  Fénéon,  “Le-­‐néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.           137   within  an  industrialized  horizon,  and  Bernard’s  simplified  linear  forms  a  metaphor  of   mechanization  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine.         A  Neo-­‐Impressionistic  Park  Landscape  at  the  Théâtre  Libra  d’Antoine   The  final  venue  where  Van  Gogh  hung  a  painting  and  perhaps  the  one  for   which  there  is  the  least  amount  of  evidence  was  at  the  Théâtre  Libra,  where  André   Antoine  opened  a  small  theater  on  May  30th  1887.252  Antoine,  who  had  the  support   of   writers   such   as   Zola,   Impressionist   critic   Louis   Edmond   Duranty,   and   Symbolist   writer  Paul  Adam,  allowed  artists  to  hang  their  works  in  the  theater’s  entryway,  an   informal   venue.   Seizing   on   this   opportunity   for   visual   artists,   Signac   and   Seurat   (whose  studios  were  located  next  to  the  theater)  hung  their  works  on  the  foyer’s   walls.   Van   Gogh,   having   ended   his   Grand   Bouillon   Exhibition,   placed   Voyer   d’Argenson  Park  at  Asnières  [figure  13]  in  the  lobby.253  It  is  not  clear  when  Van  Gogh   installed  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park,  but  most  likely  in  the  last  few  months  of  living  in   Paris.  He  left  the  capital  on  February  19th,  1888,  so  it  is  possible  he  hung  his  painting                                                                                                                   252  Thomson  80.  See  also:  “Le  Théâtre  libre:  saisons  1887  à  1889,”  Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France,   last   modified   August   23,   2013,     http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k58333014.r=theatre+libre+1887.langEN.   253  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  592  to  Thèo  from  Arles  on  April  3rd,  where  he  had  been  since  mid-­‐February:   “The  painting  with  the  lovers  is  at  the  Théâtre  Libre.”  This  is  the  only  reference  to  the  painting  from   Van  Gogh  and  the  reason  we  know  it  hung  the  Théâtre  Libre,  and  probably  stayed  there  after  he  left   Paris.             138   in   the   Montmartre   theater   sometime   in   the   fall   or   winter   of   1887-­‐1888.   Having   worked   closely   with   Signac   by   this   point,   the   theater,   although   not   an   organized   exhibition,   was   the   last   Parisian   public   place   where   Van   Gogh   attempted   to   seek   recognition  within  the  avant-­‐garde.     Considering   the   presence   of   Seurat’s   and   Signac’s   images   in   the   Théâtre   Libre’s  foyer  as  well,  Van  Gogh’s  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  is  one  of  the  most  striking   examples  of  his  Neo-­‐Impressionistic  approach.  Aside  from  the  couples,  there  is  an   overall  uniform  size  of  stroke  and  similar  surface  patterns,  unlike  Père  Tanguy,  or   Factory   at   Asnières   in   which   varying   mark-­‐making   techniques   are   evident   in   one   canvas.   Although   Van   Gogh   used   an   elongated   stroke   rather   than   the   Neo-­‐ Impressionist   dot   in   Voyer   d’Argenson   Park,   Fénéon’s   directives   seem   to   be   underlying  Van  Gogh’s  painting  methods.  Van  Gogh  instilled  a  sense  of  motion  in   this   canvas   as   well,   using   “individual   brushstrokes”   that   break   down   a   hue   to   be   combined   on   the   viewer’s   retina.254  Van   Gogh   also   created   “delicate   modeling   transitions”  and  “subtle  gradations  of  hues…”255  The  sky’s  hue,  for  instance,  threads   throughout   the   foreground,   the   grasses   and   the   couples’   clothing,   flattening   the   picture’s  depth  into  a  single  plane.  The  texture  of  the  sky,  tree  foliage,  and  grass   blend,  encompassing  three  couples  who  seem  to  be  situated  within  the  pattern  of                                                                                                                   254  Fénéon,  “Le-­‐néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.   255  Fénéon,  “Le-­‐néo-­‐impressionnisme”  in  Dorra  162.         139   the   brushstrokes,   rather   than   the   park’s   atmosphere.   As   in   a   study,   the   couples’   positions   depict   the   three   ways   Van   Gogh   could   include   figures   in   a   landscape— seated,   lying   in   the   grass,   and   standing.   They   may   be   a   product   of   his   decision-­‐ making   process   rather   than   a   studied   observation.   Paint   and   stroke   here   differentiate  and  connect  the  figures  to  their  environment.  A  way  of  asserting  the   subject   matter   as   a   creation   of   medium,   Voyer   d’Argenson   literally   and   metaphorically  addresses  the   interwoven  relationship  between  the   landscape  and   the  figures.     The  color  of  men’s  jackets—light  blue,  waist-­‐length  garments—connects  to   the  sky’s  hue.  The  jackets  are  also  similar  to  one  another’s  as  well  as  to  the  one   Tanguy  wears  in  Père  Tanguy,  and  to  the  smock  Van  Gogh  wears  in  his  Self-­‐portrait   as   a   Painter   (January-­‐February,   1888)   [figure   49].   Signac   recalled   that   when   Van   Gogh  painted,  he  was  dressed  in  “a  blue  jacket  of  a  zinc  worker,”  and  had  “small   dots  of  color”  on  his  sleeves,  a  Neo-­‐Impressionistic  thinker  indeed.256  A  sign  of  their   working-­‐class  status  in  Asnières,  the  jackets  represent  the  labor  that  supported  the   area.  In  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park,  the  men  appear  in  a  public  park  that  was  formerly  a   grand  private  residence.  The  land  for  the  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  had  been  a  part  of  a   large  eighteenth-­‐century  estate  and  was  established  as  a  public  space  in  Asnières   (adjacent  to  the  Château  Voyer  d’Argenson)  a  few  years  before  Van  Gogh  arrived  in                                                                                                                   256  Signac  quoted  in  Stein  89.         140   Paris.257  The   park   included   a   pond   and   rustic-­‐looking   bridges;   and   the   tree-­‐lined   docks  on  the  Seine  in  Asnières  bounded  the  park’s  south-­‐west  entrance.  Here,  the   public  park’s  history  as  part  of  the  grounds  of  the  Château,  had  been  repurposed,   allowing   for   the   leisurely   afternoon   of   these   lower-­‐class   couples.   The   figures   embedded  into  the  paint’s  texture,  appear  to  consider  the  nature  of  the  park  as  a   constructed  landscape  for  the  working-­‐class  suburb.         Conclusion   By   the   end   of   Van   Gogh’s   stay   in   the   capital,   he   had   made   an   enormous   effort  to  secure  a  financial  future  for  himself  and  the  painters  of  the  petit  boulevard.   Meeting  with  artists  such  as  Lucien  and  Camille  Pissarro,  Signac,  and  Bernard,  led   him   to   focus   on   sustaining   a   livelihood   while   creating   experimental   imagery   that   dovetailed  with  both  the  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  aesthetics.  “In  these   discussions,”   he   wrote   to   Gauguin   in   fall   1888   reminiscing   about   his   Paris   artist   friends,  “it  was  often  a  matter  of  the  thing  that’s  so  dear  to  our  hearts,  my  brother’s   and   mine,   the   steps   to   be   taken   in   order   to   preserve   the   means   of   production   (colours,   canvases)   and   to   preserve   to   them   the   share   of   the   price...” 258  He   attempted  to  forge  a  group  dynamic  similar  to  the  exhibition  practices  in  Paris  at  the                                                                                                                   257  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  104.     258  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  695  to  Gauguin  from  Arles  on  Wednesday,  October  3rd  1888.           141   time,  and  worked  to  establish  a  platform  for  the  generation  of  artists  developing  in   1886   and   1887.   Although   the   exhibitions   went   virtually   unnoticed,   the   venues   in   which  Van  Gogh  attempted  to  stake  a  presence  show  his  dedication  to  entering  into   a  culturally  rich  gallery  system  to  which  he  was  exposed.     In   1886   Pissarro   commented   on   the   Neo-­‐Impressionists’   diverse   surface   qualities,  writing  to  gallery  owner  Paul  Durand-­‐Ruel  to  explain  the  Neo-­‐Impressionist   theory   and   the   divergent   interpretations   of   the   ideals   Fénéon   laid   forth:   “as   for   execution,  we  regard  it  as  inconsequential,  of  very  little  importance:  art  has  nothing   to  do  with  it;  originality  consists  only  in  the  quality  of  the  drawing  and  the  vision   particular  to  each  artist.”259  Pissarro  also  urged  Durand-­‐Ruel  to  review  Fénéon’s  text   should  he  have  further  questions.  Fénéon’s  definition  of  the  formalist  methods  may   seem   to   apply   only   to   Seurat,   the   exemplar   of   Neo-­‐Impressionism.   Fénéon’s   text   describes  qualities  beyond  the  formal,  such  as  the  phenomena  of  standing  before  a   landscape.  While  facture  does  play  a  part  in  the  painting’s  meaning,  what  Pissarro   and  eventually  Van  Gogh  aimed  to  discover  was  a  difference  between  the  world  that   can   be   depicted   and   that   which   can   be   created.   The   artists   Van   Gogh   brought   together  generated  distinct  canvases  based  on  Fénéon’s  principles.  At  this  time,  Van   Gogh,   Bernard,   and   Signac   combined   compositional   strategies   from   the                                                                                                                   259  Camille  Pissarro  quoted  in  Nochlin  54.  Pissarro  wrote  to  Durand-­‐Ruel  from  Eragny  on  November  6   1886   answering   the   gallery   owner’s   request   that   Pissarro   send   a   brief   description   of   the   Néo-­‐ Impressionist’s  ideals.           142   Impressionists  and  Neo-­‐Impressionists  throughout  their  bodies  of  work.  The  artists   ultimately   translated   the   Neo-­‐Impressionist   method   in   their   own   terms   and   considered  the  canvas  a  vehicle  for  the  viewer’s  participation.  Van  Gogh,  Signac,  and   Bernard   focused   on   the   sensation   of   the   subject,   which   led   to   their   symbolic   representations  of  still-­‐life,  portraiture,  and  landscape.                                           143   CHAPTER  4:  AGRICULTURE  AND  INDUSTRY  IN  VAN  GOGH’S   MONTMARTRE  AND  CLICHY  IMAGERY       “When   I   say   I’m   a   poor   painter,”   Vincent   wrote   to   Théo   from   The   Hague,   “and  still  face  years  of  struggle—in  my  daily  life  I  have  to  arrange  things  more  or  less   as  a  farm  laborer  or  factory  worker  does….”260  From  the  beginning  of  his  painting   career,  Van  Gogh  displayed  empathy  toward  the  labor-­‐class—weavers,  coal  miners,   farmers,   factory   workers—and   addressed   the   individual   struggle   of   the   laborer   amidst  hard  times.261  The  artist’s  perspective  on  the  labor-­‐class  was  an  aspect  of  his   clerical  studies  that  carried  over  into  his  painterly  aims,  and  he  depicted  those  who   toiled  in  the  dirt,  sat  behind  a  loom,  or  filed  into  a  factory.   Carol  Zemel  has  drawn  attention  to  Van  Gogh’s  pictorial  engagement  with  a   socio-­‐political   idea   in   his   images   of   weavers   in   the   rural   village   of   Nuenen   in   Brabant.262  The  painter  depicted  weavers  confined  by  the  looms  that  provided  their   livelihood  in  small,  dank  spaces  [figure  1].  Dominated  by  their  looms,  the  workers                                                                                                                   260  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  374  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Friday,  August  1883.   261  James   H.   Rubin,   Impressionism   and   the   Modern   Landscape:   Productivity,   Technology,   and   Urbanization   from   Manet   to   Van   Gogh   (Berkeley,   California,   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  2008)  165.  In  a  brief  discussion  of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  industrial  landscape,  Factories  at   Clichy  (1887),  Rubin  notes  that  Van  Gogh’s  “leftist  sympathies  for  the  working  man”  led  to  his  interest   in  depicting  images  of  industry  and  an  urban  environment.   262  Carol  Zemel,  “The  ‘Spook’  in  the  Machine:  Pictures  of  Weavers  in  Brabant,”  Van  Gogh’s  Progress   (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles,  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1997)  55-­‐85.  Nuenen  is  a  village  in   the  North  Brabant  province.  The  life  of  an  artisan  was  in  every  way  connected  to  his  domestic  life  as   Van  Gogh  indicated  by  including  familial  signs,  such  as  babies  in  highchairs  and  men  working  before   small  windows  that  provided  little  light  in  their  meager  houses.         144   appear  as  non-­‐descript  tradesmen,  “caged  artisans”  trapped  in  a  cycle  of  economic   hardship.263  Zemel  notes  that  the  series  of  weavers  do  not  provide  an  explicit  call  for   socialist   reform.     Nevertheless,   they   underscore   the   disintegrating   role   of   the   weaver  within  an  uncertain  economic  situation  and  convey  a  sense  of   loss  of  the   artisan’s  way  of  life.264     In  Paris,  Van  Gogh  depicted  Montmartre’s  social  center  on  the  Boulevard  de   Clichy,   such   as   Interior   of   a   Restaurant   (summer   1887)   and   Boulevard   de   Clichy   (February-­‐March  1887)  [figures  2  &  3],  in  which  gaslights  illuminate  café  tables,  a   top   hat   hangs   on   the   wall,   and   figures   cross   wide   boulevards   lined   with   Second-­‐ Empire  architecture.  Van  Gogh  also  explored  the  laborer  in  the  agricultural  areas  on   Montmartre’s  Butte,  which  was  a  short  walk  from  the  Boulevard,  and  the  Commune   de  Clichy,  an  industrial  suburb  that  bordered  Montmartre  to  the  north.  To  set  out   for  the  day  to  paint,  Van  Gogh  walked  from  the  arrondissement,  to  the  boundary   between   Paris   and   the   banlieue   (the   industrial   suburbs),   through   the   city’s   fortifications,  and  into  Clichy.265  Within  this   landscape,  he  considered  some  of  the                                                                                                                   263  Zemel  60.   264  Zemel  85.     265  A   letter   from   Paul   Signac   to   Gustave   Coquiot,   written   in   1923,   Van   Gogh:   A   Retrospective,   ed.   Susan  Alyson  Stein  (New  York:  Hugh  Lauter  Levin  Associates,  Inc.,  1986)  89.  “Yes,  I  knew  Van  Gogh   from   the   shop   of   Père   Tanguy.   I   would   meet   him   other   times   at   Asnières   and   at   Saint-­‐Ouen;   we   painted  on  the  river-­‐banks,  lunched  at  an  open-­‐air  roadhouse,  and  we  returned  by  foot  to  Paris  by   the  avenues  of  Saint-­‐Ouen  and  Clichy.”         145   aspects   akin   to   his   Dutch-­‐period   imagery:   working-­‐class   laborers   and   their   relationship   to   the   agricultural   terrain   and   the   built   environment.   Van   Gogh   pictorially  studied  the  allotments  on  Montmartre’s  Butte  and  a  relatively  newly  built   factory  that  turned  coal  into  gas,  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  along  the  Seine.    The  area   between   Montmartre’s   semi-­‐rural   Butte   and   L’Usine   à   gaz   was   in   transition   as   agricultural  and  factory  practices  underwent  a  shift  during  the  Third  Republic:  from   meeting  the  needs  of  local  markets  to  those  of  a  consumer-­‐driven  metropolis,  and   from   reliance   on   skilled   artisanal   craftsman   to   large-­‐scale   mechanized   processes.   Walking  between  Montmartre’s  robust  nightlife  and  artistic  scene  and  L’Usine  à  gaz,   Van  Gogh  observed  a  landscape  shaped  by  the  needs  of  a  modern  Parisian  consumer   market.     Scholars  have  not  addressed  Van  Gogh’s  images  of  Montmartre  and  Clichy  in   light  of  socio-­‐political  changes  that  affected  farmers  and  factory  laborers.266  In  the   mid-­‐1880s,   peasants   in   semi-­‐rural   Montmartre   farmed   land   for   their   own   sustenance  and  sometimes  sold  the  surplus  produce.  Socialist  leaders  argued  that                                                                                                                   266  André  Krauss,  Vincent  van  Gogh:  Studies  in  the  Social  Aspects  of  his  Work  (Atlantic  Highlands,  NJ:   Humanities  Press  International,  Inc.,  1983).  Krauss  briefly  addressed  some  of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period   industrial   landscapes   in   connection   to   socialist   politics.   He   characterizes   Van   Gogh’s   images   of   laborers  prior  to  his  Paris-­‐period  as  dogmatically  realist  and  maintains  this  point  of  view  in  the  Paris-­‐ period.   Krauss   asserts   that   the   artist   did   not   aim   to   “treat   subjects   outside   the   realm   of   physical   reality”  (126).  Van  Gogh  was  not  a  mimetic  painter.  He  explored  the  socio-­‐political  climate  through   his   images   of   peripheral   communities   by   transforming   the   landscape   and   using   color   and   form   symbolically.  I  lead  from  Zemel’s  claims  regarding  his  weaver  series  as  her  argument  considers  how   Van  Gogh’s  formal  devices  convey  socio-­‐political  meaning.             146   farmers  should  be  able  to  maintain  small  plots  of  land,  rather  than  merge  farms  and   manage   them   collectively.267  Additionally,   in   1887,   the   Paris   Gas   Company   (PGC)   marketed   gas-­‐powered   lighting   and   stoves   to   those   living   in   upper-­‐class   arrondissements,   generating   the   largest   margin   of   growth   in   domestic   sales   and   increasing  the  demand  for  factory  workers.268  I   intend  to  explore  how  Van  Gogh’s   paintings  of  Montmartre  and  Clichy  convey  the  land’s  relationship  to  the  economic   livelihood   of   its   inhabitants,   highlighting   the   land’s   significance   in   the   day-­‐to-­‐day   operations  of  modern  Paris.  To  do  so,  I  do  not  take  a  polarizing  interpretation,  such   as  a  utopian  view  of  labor  or  a  condemnation  of  the  capitalist  model.  In  line  with   Zemel,   I   consider   how   Van   Gogh   constructed   the   landscape—and   what   role   the                                                                                                                   267  Leslie   Derfier,   Paul   Lafargue   and   the   Flowering   of   French   Socialism,   1882-­‐1911   (Cambridge,   Massachusetts  and  London,  England:  Harvard  University  Press,  1998)  124-­‐125.  In  1883,  the  French   Work’s  Party  (Parti  ouvrier  français  or  POF)  formed  to  fight  for  worker’s  rights.  The  Party  was  part  of   a   larger   movement   to   provide   better   living   and   working   conditions   to   those   dependent   on   labor-­‐ based  wages.  Two  POF  leaders  differed  regarding  how  to  manage  small-­‐scale  farms.  Jules  Guesede   feared   that   peasant   farmers   would   disappear   if   they   owned   their   individual   farms:   a   “swift   and   inevitable  disappearance  of  petty  proprietors  in  the  face  of  capitalist  encroachments.”  In  contrast,   Paul  Lafargue  fought  against  the  strategy  to  collectivize  the  smaller  plots  and  for  the  rights  of  the   peasant  and  his  or  her  small  allotment  of  land.  He  understood  the  collective  approach  as  a  capitalist   system  in  which  someone  would  eventually  out-­‐earn  others  at  the  expense  of  those  who  had  worked   their   land   for   generations.   Lafargue   argued   that   by   preserving   the   family-­‐owned   and   operated   peasant   farms,   the   worker   would   be   in   control   of   his   own   livelihood   and   not   succumb   to   the   capitalist-­‐driven  system  of  appropriating  land  that  could  be  passed  down  for  generations.   268  Lenard  R.  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  and  Industrial  Conflict  in  Nineteenth-­‐Century  France:  A  Social   History   of   the   Parisian   Gas   Company   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles,   and   Oxford:   University   of   California   Press,  1991)  15,  51  &  82.  In  1887,  the  Paris  Gas  Company  instituted  a  fee-­‐free  program  to  increase  its   customer  base.  PGC  salesmen  asked  65,000  residents,  who  mostly  all  lived  in  luxury  buildings  near  a   gas  main,  if  they  would  like,  at  the  company’s  expense,  to  outfit  their  apartments  with  gas  lines,  a   lighting  fixture,  and  a  stove.  In  1887,  12,000  residents  enrolled  in  the  program.  Through  the  fee-­‐free   program,  PGC  effectively  captured  the  upper-­‐class  market  and  the  commodity  was  mass  marketed  to   the  bourgeoisie  as  an  easy-­‐to-­‐have  resource,  but  gas  lighting  fixtures  and  stoves  had  yet  to  reach  the   middle  and  lower-­‐class  markets.                 147   landscape   held—in   relation   to   labor   and   industrial   growth   within   the   context   of   socialist  reform  strategies  developing  in  the  early  1880s.     I   begin   my   discussion   where   Van   Gogh’s   journey   began—looking   out   the   window   from   his   rue   Lepic   apartment   atop   Montmartre’s   Butte,   a   geographic   highpoint—and   follow   his   path   to   the   rural   side   of   the   Butte,   through   the   city’s   fortifications,   and   among   the   smokestacks   in   the   banlieue.   In   Montmartre   and   Clichy,  Van  Gogh  created  an  encompassing  view  of  the  landscape  and  its  resources   by  including  varying  aspects  of  industry,  labor,  and  agriculture—the  components  of   an  interrelated  work  force  that  served  an  urban  population.  Similar  to  his  weaver   images,  the  landscape  paintings  from  Montmartre  and  Clichy,  such  as  Montmartre:   Windmills  and  Allotments  (March-­‐April  1887)  and  Factories  at  Clichy  (1887)  [figures   4  &  5]  overpower  the  figure.  In  contrast  to  his  weaver  images,  laborers  in  his  Paris-­‐ period   landscapes   are   small-­‐scale,   ingrained   within   farming   plots   or   among   an   immense  landscape  populated  with  smokestacks  that  pump  emissions  into  the  sky.   The  figures  are  parts  of  a  greater  whole,  operating  in  a  macro-­‐system  of  demand   and  production.       Socialism  in  Paris   From  the  perspective  of  his  window,  Van  Gogh  painted  a  scene  overlooking   the   roofs   of   Montmartre   toward   the   center   of   Paris   in   The   View   from   Vincent’s         148   Room,  rue  Lepic  (spring  1887)  and  View  from  Théo’s  Apartment  (March-­‐April  1887)   [figures  6  &  7].269  The  Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame  in  the  city’s  center  appears  on  the   horizon,   indicating   that   the   view   from   the   brother’s   apartment   at   the   top   of   the   Butte  of  Montmartre  is  to  the  southeast.270  Blocking  an  otherwise  panoramic  view  of   the   city   on   the   right   is   a   new   building.   The   building   was   under   construction;   its   façade   was   left   unfinished   to   abut   another   structure.   The   squat   building   in   the   foreground,  which  is  more  visible  in  View  from  Théo’s  Apartment,  was  a  tenement   for   workers,   the   poorest   living   on   the   top   floors. 271  The   paintings   from   the   apartment  window  visually  underscore  the  peripheral  relationship  of  Montmartre’s   working  classes  in  relation  to  the  distant  Parisian  center.     In   the   1830s,   Montmartre   was   a   village   with   a   population   of   about   6,000   people,  and  a  commune  outside  of  the  city’s  boundary  marked  by  the  Octroi  wall.  272                                                                                                                   269  When  Vincent  arrived  in  Paris  in  February,  Théo  lived  on  the  rue  Laval  south  of  the  busy  Boulevard   de  Clichy  and  Boulevard  de  Rochechouart.  Four  months  later,  in  June,  they  moved  across  the  main   Boulevards  to  the  rue  Lepic  on  the  Butte.  Living  there,  Van  Gogh  began  painting  images  from  the   Butte’s  summit.   270  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  van  Gogh:  His  Paris  Period,  1886-­‐1888  (Den  Haag  and  Utrecht:   Editions  Victorine,  1976)  94-­‐96.     271  Richard  Thomson,  “Introducing  Montmartre,”  Toulouse-­‐Lautrec  and  Montmartre  (Washington  and   Chicago:  National  Gallery  of  Art  and  The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  2005)  66.  Thomson  identified  the   worker’s  tenement  as  the  tall  building  in  the  foreground.   272  Robert   Herbert,   Impressionism:   Art,   Leisure   and   Parisian   Society   (New   Haven   and   London:   Yale   University   Press,   1988)   13-­‐14.   Émile   Zola,   L’Assommoir,   trans.   Margaret   Mauldon   (Oxford:   Oxford   University  Press,  1995)  441,  note  7.  The  Octroi  wall  was  at  the  Boulevard  de  Rochechouart  and  de  la   Chapelle.  See  also:  Ernest  Alfred  Vizetelly,  Paris  and  Her  People  Under  the  Third  Republic  (1919;  repr.,   Charleston,  South  Carolina:  Bibliolife,  2009)  1.    Although  communes  such  as  Montmartre  and  Passy   were  surrounded  by  the  fortifications  under  Louis-­‐Philippe,  they  were  not  considered  part  of  Paris         149   Under  the  Second  Empire,  Prefect  of  the  Seine  Baron  Georges-­‐Eugène  Haussmann   expanded   the   city’s   borders   in   1860   to   include   Montmartre,   and   at   this   time   the   arrondissement’s  population   increased  to  over  100,000.   In  his  novel  Nana  (1880),   Émile  Zola  (1840-­‐1902)  used  Montmartre  to  indicate  lower-­‐class  status.  In  the  novel,   which  Van  Gogh  read  in  1882,  Montmartre  serves  as  the  backdrop  of  the  downfall  of   Nana,  a  prostitute  who  grew  up  in  the  “slum[s]”  of  the  arrondissement.273  Due  to  the   number   of   working-­‐class   inhabitants,   their   concerns   became   part   of   the   political   platform  as  socialist  candidates  gained  support  in  the  early  to  mid-­‐1880s.274  At  this   time,  the  tension  between  republican  capitalism  and  the  large  population  of  manual   laborers  caused  the  rising  socialist  party  to  call  for  a  number  of  legislative  reforms                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               until  1860.  The  Octroi  wall  separated  the  communes  until  they  were  absorbed  into  the  city’s  political   structure  during  the  Second  Empire.   273  Émile  Zola,  Nana,  trans.  Douglas  Parmée  (Oxford  and  New  York:  Oxford  University  Press,  1992)   190,  226.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  250  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  July  23,  1882,  noting  that  he   had  read  Nana.  Nana  experienced  physical  abuse  at  the  hands  of  her  lover,  and  held  the  company  of   a   lower   class   of   prostitutes   who   were   visibly   poorer   “little   draggle-­‐tailed   tarts”   than   their   counterparts   who   worked   in   the   center   of   the   city   for   higher-­‐class   clientele.   On   Montmartre   as   a   topographical  feature  in  Zola’s  novels,  see:  Eduardo  Febles,  “Anarchy  as  Narrative  Capital,”  Explosive   Narratives:  Terrorism  and  Anarchy  in  the  works  of  Émile  Zola  (Amsterdam:  Editions  Rodoli,  2010)  65-­‐ 107.  Febles  analyzes  the  author’s  1898  novel  Paris.   In  Febles’  words  the  Butte  was  “the  center  of   subversive  practices”  and  thus  offered  a  backdrop  to  the  varied  aspects  of  Montmartre:  “from  the   resistance   to   industrial   capitalism”   upheld   by   the   large   population   of   artisans   to   the   avant-­‐garde   artists  (76-­‐77).   274  Lenard  R.  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris,  1871-­‐1914  (Baltimore  and  London:  The  Johns   Hopkins  University  Press,  1984)  155,  159.  Not  all  working-­‐class  constituents  were  ready  to  support   socialist  politics.  In  1886,  the  socialist  candidate  who  ran  as  a  supporter  of  the  worker  during  a  time   of   economic   crises,   Ernest   Roche,   gained   40%   (up   considerably   from   1881)   of   the   vote   in   the   arrondissement,  a  large  portion  of  the  vote  in  Clichy,  and  was  supported  by  the  socialist  press.  Roche   had  gained  popularity  as  a  politician  during  the  Decazeville  miner’s  strike.           150   that  were  similar  in  scope  to  those  at  the  beginning  of  the  twentieth  century.  By  the   mid-­‐1880s,  working-­‐class  politics  under  the  Third  Republic  (1870-­‐1940)  occupied  a   central  platform.  In  contrast,  the  early  agenda  of  the  Third  Republic,  founded  under   Adolphe   Thiers   (r.   1871-­‐1873),   was   based   on   conservative   politics   that   aimed   to   protect  France,  ward  away  revolutionary  sentiments,  and  maintain  peace.  Fearing  a   cycle   of   “humiliating   progress   from   anarchy   to   despotism   and   from   despotism   to   anarchy,”   Thiers   suppressed   socialist-­‐party   politics   after   the   fall   of   the   Paris   Commune   in   1871.275  During   a   time   of   innovation   in   agriculture   and   modern   technologies,   there   was   pressure   on   the   working   class   to   rise   to   new   production   standards  while  living  in  unsafe  conditions  and  working  for  low  wages.     The   discord   between   the   working-­‐class   population   and   the   conservative   republican   administration   led   to   a   labor-­‐rights   movement.276  By   the   mid-­‐1870s,   there  was  a  resurgence  of  a  socialist  agenda  and  a  call  for  work-­‐place  reform  and  the   appearance  of  a  number  of  socialist  publications.  In  1880  and  1882,  two  worker’s                                                                                                                   275  Adolphe  Thiers,  “Chamber  of  Deputies,”  Journal  officiel  de  la  République  française  (13  November   1872)  in  William  Fortescue,  ed.,  The  Third  Republic  in  France,  1870-­‐1940:  Conflicts  and  Continuities   (London  and  New  York:  Routledge,  2000)  27.  Many  socialists  faced  sentencing  and  exile,  and  thus   their   politics   lost   its   leaders   and   a   voice   in   an   otherwise   traditionalist   administration   that   never   wanted  to  “witness  again”  the  atrocities  that  occurred  between  the  fall  of  the  Second  Empire  and  the   rise  of  the  Third  Republic.   276  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  151.  The  tension  was  on  par  with  that  of  1848  and  the  ensuing  revolution   that  overthrew  the  Orléans  Monarch.           151   parties  were  founded.277  They  sought  reforms  to  protect  property-­‐less  wage-­‐earners   under   republican   capitalism,   such   as   legislation   to   regulate   the   business   day,   set   standards  of  working  conditions,  supply  financial  support  for  injured  employees,  and   grant   funds   for   retirement.278  In   1883,   the   French   Worker’s   Party   (Parti   ouvrier   français   or   POF)   organized,   calling   for   a   six-­‐day   work   week,   minimum-­‐age   requirements  for  workers  (fourteen-­‐years  old),  standard  minimum  wages,  a  position   for   workers   in   the   managerial   system,   mandatory   schooling   for   the   children   of   working-­‐class   parents,   and   proper   care   for   the   elderly.279  The   Union   Générale,   a   merchant  bank  that  had  national  and  international  dealings,  stopped  payments  in   January  1882,  which  contributed  to  an  economic  crisis  and  the  dire  circumstances  of   the   labor-­‐class.   As   agricultural   production   rose,   the   value   of   crops   and   products,   such  as  corn  and  wine,  dropped  considerably   in  1885.280  During  the  first  working-­‐                                                                                                                 277  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  154.  The  Militants  favored  strikes  and  action,  and  the   Blanquists  were  anarchists  who  represented  the  Communes.   278  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  154-­‐155.     279  Jules  Guesde  and  Paul  Lafargue,  “Le  Programme  du  Parti  Ouvrier:  son  histoire,  ses  considérants,   ses  articles,”  Paris:  Henry  Oriol,  1883  in  Fortescue  35.  POF   leaders,  Guesde  and  Lafargue,  stressed   that   the   worker   needed   to   gain   a   role   in   the   system   that   determined   their   earning   potential.   An   “interference   by   employers”   regarding   banking   needed   to   cease;   they   wanted   laborers   to   have   “exclusive”  control  over  their  financial  livelihoods  and  work-­‐place  conditions.   280  Jean-­‐Marie   Mayeur   and   Madeleine   Reberioux,   The   Third   Republic   from   its   Origins   to   the   Great   War,  1871-­‐1914,  trans.  Maison  des  Sciences  de  l’Homme  and  Cambridge  University  Press  (New  York,   New  Rochelle,  Melbourne  and  Sydney:  Cambridge  University  Press,  1973)  46,  62-­‐63.           152   class  congress  in  1876,  representatives  did  not  support  protest  and  strike.281  By  the   early   1880s,   the   economic   depression   led   to   widespread   strikes   that   took   on   defining   strategies.   Unions   called   for   a   complete   stoppage   of   all   work   within   a   factory,  and  members  had  an  ability  to  express  demands,  pinpoint  needs,  and  utilize   negotiation  tactics.282     Within   this   time   of   labor   reform,   economic   crisis,   and   protest,   Van   Gogh   considered  the  life  of  the  labor-­‐class.283  “I  immersed  myself  in  religious  and  socialist   affairs,”  Vincent  wrote  to  his  sister  Willemien  from  Paris,  “and  considered  art  more   sacred,  more  than  now.”284  To  this  end,  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  portrayed  the  worker’s   role   under   the   Third   Republic   through   agricultural   images   of   Montmartre   and   industrial   landscapes   of   Clichy,   some   of   which   he   hung   in   the   Grand   Bouillon   Exhibition.  Émile  Bernard  considered  the  exhibition  at  the  Grand  Boullion  in  which   Van  Gogh,  Bernard,  and  Paul  Signac  included  imagery  to  be  a  “socialist  exhibition,”                                                                                                                   281  Fortescue  36.  The  working-­‐class  congress  held  their   first  meetings   in  Paris  and  Lyon   in  fall  and   winter  1876.   282  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  169-­‐174.  There  was  an  increase  in  protests  in  the  early   1880s  that  paralleled  those  of  the  early  twentieth  century:  in  1881  there  were  42  strikes  and  37  in   1882,  more  than  half  of  which  (66%)  were  full-­‐stop  work  orders  from  the  unions.   283  Van  Gogh  moved  to  Montmartre  under  the  Third  Republic  during  the  administration  of  Jules  Grévy   (r.  1879-­‐1887),  a  moderate  republican  who  resigned  in  December  1887  due  to  a  scandal  involving  his   son-­‐in-­‐law,   and   the   transition   to   President   Sadi   Carnot   in   the   winter   of   1887-­‐1888   who   was   assassinated  in  1894  by  an  anarchist  (r.  1887-­‐1894).   284  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  574  to  Willemien  from  Paris  in  late  October  1887.           153   an   ideology   that   may   have   contributed   to   the   show’s   abrupt   end.285  Bernard   also   noted  that  Père  Tanguy  and  Van  Gogh  engaged  in  a  socialist  discourse,  writing:     Julien   Tanguy,   a   faithful   reader   of   Le   Cri   du   peuple   and   L’intransigent   espoused   a   doctrine   of   single-­‐minded   love   of   the   poor,   fixing   his   ideal   on   a   future   filled   with   goodness   and   love,   when   all   human   beings   would   turn   toward   one   another   and   personal   struggles   and   ambitions,   always   so   bitter   and   bloody,   would  come  to  an  end.  Vincent  only  diverged  from  this   ideal   in   that   his   artistic   nature   sought   to   make   a   kind   of   religion   and   esthetic  credo  of  the  notion  of  social  harmony.  286         Camille  Pissarro,  Félix  Fénéon,  Georges  Seurat,  and  Signac  all  concurred  and  were   open   about   their   socialist   or   even   anarchist   ideals. 287  Van   Gogh   had   collegial   friendships  with  Père  Tanguy,  Fénéon,  Pissarro,  and  Signac  whose  beliefs  shaped  not   only  their  political  leanings  but  also  their  respective  criticism  and  imagery.288  Signac   and  Pissarro,  for  example,  drew  political  influence  from  Pierre-­‐Joseph  Proudhon,  a                                                                                                                   285  Bernard  quoted  in  Van  Gogh’s  letter  575,  note  9.   286  Bernard,   “Julien   Tanguy,   Called   Le   Père   Tanguy”   (November-­‐December   1908)   in   Van   Gogh:   A   Retrospective,  ed.  Susan  Alyson  Stein  (New  York:  Hugh  Lauter  Levin  Associates,  Inc.,  1986)  93.   287  John  Rewald,  Post-­‐Impressionism:  From  Van  Gogh  to  Gauguin  (New  York:  Museum  of  Modern  Art,   1978)  141-­‐142.  See  also:  Joan  Ungersma  Halperin,  Félix  Fénéon:  Aesthete  &  Anarchist  in  Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle   Paris  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1988)  33-­‐34  &  56.  See  also:  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon   47-­‐48.   Fénéon   published   Lafargue’s   writing   after   the   socialist   writer’s   death.   Fénéon   also   thought   that  anarchy,  rather  than  socialism,  would  lead  to  more  effective  reform  measures.  When  President   Carnot  was  assassinated  on  June  24,  1894  at  the  hands  of  an  anarchist,  the  government  investigated,   bringing  charges  against  known  anarchists.  During  this  incident,  critic  Fénéon  and  painter  Maximilien   Luce  both  found  themselves  in  lawsuits.  Fénéon  was  jailed  during  the  1894  anarchist  bombings  and   assassination   of   President   Carnot,   but   was   acquitted.   He   stayed   in   Belgium   at   this   time;   Signac   offered  him  financial  help.     288  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon  46-­‐47.             154   philosopher  writing  in  mid-­‐century  who  studied  economic  inequalities  and  saw  art   as  a  means  to  dispose  of  a  confining  material  culture.289  Proudhon  argued  that  art   had,  with  the  paintings  of  Gustave  Courbet,  “become  rational”  and  could  “no  longer   profess[]  indifference  in  matters  of  faith,  government,  or  morality.”290     Although  the  view  Van  Gogh  provided  from  his  rue  Lepic  window  is  not  an   explicit  statement  about  “matters  of…government,”  the  artist  used  the  window,  the   tenement   house,   and   a   newly   constructed   building   to   crop   and   frame   the   urban   metropolis.  The  towers  of  Notre  Dame  on  the  horizon  appear  in  a  minuscule  scale,   and   the   tenement-­‐housing   complex   and   unfinished   structure   dominate   the   foreground.  Van  Gogh’s  pictorial  use  of  scale  relates  to  the  reality  of  working-­‐class   residents   of   Montmartre.     In   1886,   Montmartre   was   home   to   a   disproportionate   number  of  manual  laborers  versus  white-­‐collar  employees.  More  than  60-­‐70%  of  the   residents  of  the  arrondissement  were  of  the  labor  class.291  To  create  the  painting,   the  artist  looked  over  those  who  work  for  the  city,  and  represented  the  labor-­‐class   from  their  marginal  role  in  the  city’s  structure.  As  a  population,  they  remain  outside                                                                                                                   289  Pierre-­‐Joseph  Proudhon,  “Definitions  of  the  New  School,”  Art  in  Theory,  1815-­‐1900:  An  Anthology   of  Changing  Ideas.  Eds.  Charles  Harrison  and  Paul  Wood  with  Jason  Gaiger  (Oxford,  UK:  Blackwell   Publishers,  1999)  404-­‐410.   290  Proudhon  quoted  in  Harrison  410.   291  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  12-­‐13,  figure  1  &  2.  In  comparison,  less  than  25%  (and  in   some  areas  less  than  50%)  of  the  population  made  up  manual  laborers  just  south  of  Montmartre  in   the   Ninth   arrondissement.   Between   25-­‐50%   of   the   population   was   of   the   labor-­‐class   near   the   Cathedral  of  Notre  Dame.         155   of  the  metropolis.  As  in  the  weaver  paintings,  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  does  not  posit  a   political   stance,   but   addresses   the   realities   of   their   condition   through   pictorial   metaphors,  such  as  scale  and  point-­‐of-­‐view.  In  so  doing,  the  artist  obliquely  suggests   the  boundary  between  class  structures  and  provides  a  perspective  of  someone  who   sees  the  city  from  the  peripheral  status  of  the  labor-­‐class.       Montmartre’s  Butte   When  Vincent  arrived  in  Paris,  Théo  lived  on  the  rue  Laval,  just  south  of  the   busy  Boulevard  de  Clichy  and  Boulevard  de  Rochechouart.  Four  months  later  in  early   summer,  the  brothers  moved  across  the  main  boulevards  to  the  rue  Lepic  on  the   Butte.   When   Van   Gogh   lived   in   Montmartre,   the   Butte   was   known   for   three   prominent  windmills—neighborhood  attractions  with  cafés  and  a  viewing  platform   upon  which  observers  could  overlook  Paris  [figures  8-­‐10].292  During  his  first  summer   in  the  capital,  Van  Gogh  took  advantage  of  the  perspective  from  the  viewing  terrace                                                                                                                   292  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988)  56.  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Vincent  Van   Gogh:   His   Paris   Period,   1886-­‐1888   232.   Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon   95.   Kooten   and   Rijnders   141-­‐142,   161.   Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov  clarifies  the  different  mills,  as  do  subsequent  scholars,  by  their  respective   location:  the  Moulin  Le  Blute-­‐fin  was  located  on  the  rue  Lepic  and  included  the  viewing  platform,  the   Moulin   Le   Radet   on   the   corner   of   rue   Girardon   and   Norvins,   and   the   Moulin   à   Poivre   on   the   rue   Norvins.  See  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s  map  in  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  on  page  37:  Le  Radet  (called  “The  Moulin  de   la  Galette”),  the  Moulin  à  Poivre  (“Pepper  Mill”  and  also  called  Moulin  Debray),  and  the  Blute-­‐fin   (associated   with   the   viewing   deck).   All   were   also   known   as   the   Moulin   de   la   Galette.   The   Debray   family,  who  owned  two  of  the  mills  for  most  of  the  nineteenth  century,  possibly  decided  to  name  the   mills  “Moulin  de  la  Galette”  to  attract  tourists  to  the  eateries  and  to  the  viewing  deck  overlooking   Montmartre   and   all   of   Paris,   as   marketed   in   Jules-­‐Aldolphe   Chauvet’s   illustrative   postcards   of   the   mills  (addressed  below).  “The  Moulin  de  la  Galette”  was  also  a  phrase  used  to  distinguish  the  entire   top  of  the  Butte  from  1834  to  1895.         156   and  painted  the  crowded  metropolis  stretching  off  into  the  horizon  toward  the  heart   of   the   city   in   View   of   Paris,   from   Montmartre   (late   summer   1886)   [figure   11].293   Smokestacks  rise  above  the  roofs  punctuating  the  cityscape,  indicating  the  factory   labor  supporting  the  city.  That  winter,  the  artist  also  depicted  the  observation  deck   from  the  point  of  view  of  leisurely  observers  in  Terrace  and  Observation  Deck  at  the   Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin,  Montmartre  (early  1886-­‐1887)  [figure  12].  Painted  in  the  muted   earth  tones  of  his  summer  cityscape,  he  included  elements  of  a  modern  city,  such  as   gas-­‐lights  and  figures  in  contemporary  dress  enjoying  the  city  vista  in  winter.     Just   off   the   rue   Lepic,   the   windmills   were   not   far   from   the   bustle   of   café   culture   on   the   Boulevard   de   Clichy.294  The   Debray   family,   a   well-­‐known   family   in   Montmartre,  owned  two  (possibly  all  three)  of  the  mills  and  perhaps  the  farmland   on  the  Butte  for  most  of  the  nineteenth  century  [figure  13].  295  A  short  walk  uphill   from   the   Boulevard,   the   windmills   were   places   to   socialize.   Illustrations   by   Jules-­‐                                                                                                                 293  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  46-­‐47.   294  Mary  Weaver  Chapin,  “The  Chat  Noir  and  the  Cabaret,”  The  Spirit  of  Montmartre:  Cabarets,  Humor   and   the   Avant-­‐Garde,   1875-­‐1905,   eds.   Phillip   Dennis   Cate   and   Mary   Shaw   (New   Brunswick,   New   Jersey:  Rutgers,  The  State  University  of  New  Jersey,  1996)  90-­‐91.  The  Butte  was  located  close  to  café   life   on   the   Boulevard   Clichy:   the   famous   Moulin   Rouge,   Le   Chat   Noir   Cabaret   (which   opened   in   November  1881,  and  a  second  location  on  the  rue  Laval  in  1885),  Aristide  Bruant’s  cabaret  Mirliton   (which   took   over   the   first   Le   Chat   Noir   location   in   1885   at   84   Boulevard   Rochechouart),   and   the   Théâtre  Libre.   295  Although   there   is   not   a   study   or   summary   of   the   Debray   family,   the   father   and   his   sons   are   mentioned  in  two  histories  of  Montmartre.  Georges  Montorgueil,  La  vie  à  Montmartre,  illustrations   by   Pierre   Vidal   (1899;   Gallica.bnf,   2012),   http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k6377146c.image.r=Debray.f21.langEN.   See   also:   Le   Vieux   Montmartre.   Société   d'histoire   et   d'archéologie   du   XVIIIe   arrondissement   (1886-­‐1935;   Gallica.bnf,   2011)  http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k5690746b.image.r=Debray.f6.langEN.           157   Adolphe  Chauvet  (1828-­‐1906)  provide  an  example  [figures  14-­‐17].  296  In  Montmartre   Le  Moulin  Des  frères  Debray,  Restaurant  la  Guinguette,  people  greet  one  another  in   middle-­‐class  and  upper-­‐middle  class  attire  in  front  of  Restaurant  la  Guinguette.  A  tall   man  to  the  left  raises  his  top-­‐hat  nodding  toward  the  couple  on  the  street  as  the   waiter,   menu   tucked   under   his   arms,   waits   to   the   side.   A   sign   to   the   left   reads   “Jardin  de  la  Galette”  and  a  sign  above  the  establishment  reads  “Debray  Aine,”  or   (aîné)   elder   Debray,   either   referring   to   the   family’s   patriarch   or   the   eldest   son.   Tables  with  empty  wine  bottles  and  half-­‐full  glasses  suggest  that  outdoor  seating  at   this  café  was  a  popular  activity  on  a  sunny  afternoon.  In  this  print,  the  Butte  is  a   destination,  a  place  to  visit,  and  a  neighborhood  with  eateries  and  gardens  that  are   worth  the  walk  up  the  Butte’s  slope.  Chauvet’s  illustration  prioritizes  the  upper-­‐class   and   indicates   a   clean,   well-­‐organized   inviting   area   of   Montmartre   where   middle-­‐ class  visitors  could  take  advantage  of  leisurely  activities.     Van  Gogh  depicted  a  group  of  people  at  the  top  of  the  Butte  in  Moulin  de  la   Galette  or  Le  Radet  (mid-­‐October  1886)  [figure   18]  on  a  corner  at  the  top  of  the   Butte  close  to  the  scene  Chauvet  described.297  While  Van  Gogh  maintained  a  sense                                                                                                                   296  The  Moulin  Le  Radet  is  associated  with  La  Guiguette.  Toos  van  Kooten  and  Mieke  Rijnders,  eds.   The  Paintings  of  Vincent  van  Gogh  in  the  Collection  of  the  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum  (Otterlo:  Kröller-­‐ Müller  Museum,  2003)  161-­‐162.   297  The  image  probably  features  the  Blute-­‐fin  although  it  is  labeled  “Moulin  de  la  Galette.”  Chauvet’s   sketch,   Impasse   des   2   frères   rue   Lepic,   from   1884   is   similar   to   the   corner   Van   Gogh   depicted   in   Moulin  de  la  Galette  or  Le  Radet  (1886).         158   of  mimetic  description,  the  artist’s  ideas  of  the  Butte  convey  a  working-­‐class  area   with   few   upper-­‐class   people.   In   contrast   to   Chauvet’s   print   in   which   people   congregate,   Van   Gogh’s   corner   on   the   Butte   reads   as   a   residential   area,   a   place   where   passersby   are   in   transit.   The   structure   Van   Gogh   depicted   is   also   the   site   represented   in  Pierre-­‐Auguste  Renoir’s  Bal  du  moulin  de   la  Galette  (1876)  [figure   19],  a  painting  that  shows  the  popular  Sunday  dance  as  a  fun  social  gathering  under   the  shimmering  sun.298  Unlike  Chauvet  and  Renoir,  Van  Gogh  depicted  simple  street   life  and  used  the  umbers  of  his  earlier  imagery  to  create  a  balance  of  earthy  hues   against  an  overcast  sky.  A  sign  that  reads  “commerce  de  vino”  labels  the  structure,   and  Le  Radet  (one  of  the  windmills)  rises  behind  the  café.  To  depict  Montmartre’s   Butte,  the  artist  included  figures  of  differing  classes,  including  the  lower  classes.  The   male  figure  on  the  left  stands  tall  and  wears  a  top  hat;  in  contrast,  the  figure  walking   up  the  hill  slouches  and  wears  a  rounded  hat  and  non-­‐descript  garments.  Van  Gogh   also   studied   the   interior   of   the   café   illustrated   by   Chauvet   in   La   Guinguette   du   Moulin  Le  Radet  (mid-­‐October  1886)  and  La  Guinguette  (mid-­‐October  1886)  [figures   20   &   21].   Aside   from   the   prominent   gas   lamp   in   the   center   of   the   drawing   and   painting,  the  outdoor  seating  area  appears  modest.299  Figures  drawn  with  a  couple                                                                                                                   298  Toos  and  Rijnders  162.  On  Renoir’s  painting,  see:  Robert  Herbert,  Impressionism:  Art,  Leisure  and   Parisian  Society.  (New  Haven  and  London:  Yale  University  Press,  1988)    62,  132-­‐139.   299  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  58  and  60.  Van  Gogh  painted  the  same  establishment  Pierre-­‐ Auguste  Renoir  did  in  the  Frenchman’s  Bal  du  Moulin  de  la  Galette  (1876),  which  depicts  the  Moulin   Le  Radet,  a  windmill  that  was  quite  close  to  the  apartment  Vincent  shared  with  Théo.         159   of  brushstrokes  in  deep  tones  huddle  over  drinks.  The  couple  seated  in  the  corner   represents  the  upper-­‐classes;  the  woman  wears  a  bright  pink  dress  with  a  modern   silhouette  and  her  companion  a  top  hat.    The  woman  in  the  foreground  sitting  at  the   table  alone  seems  to  be  dressed  more  simply;  her  shoulders  wrapped  in  a  scarf.  Van   Gogh’s  waiter  appears  in  the  center  of  the  image,  not  as  a  figure  on  the  margins  of  a   group  in  conversation  as  in  Chauvet’s  image.  In  Van  Gogh’s  depiction,  the  worker  is   central.     By  the  spring,  Van  Gogh  turned  his  attention  to  the  agricultural  aspects  of   the  Butte  and  omitted  direct  reference  to  the  metropolis,  leisurely  afternoons,  and   the  middle-­‐class.  Van  Gogh  painted  The  Hill  of  Montmartre  (April-­‐May  1886)  [figure   22],   and   the   Debray-­‐family   farm   building   appears   on   the   cusp   of   the   hill.300  Two   paintings   of   the   same   title   The   Hill   of   Montmartre   with   Stone   Quarry   (June-­‐July   1886)  [figures  23  &  24]  show  the  north-­‐facing  slope  from  the  base  of  the  Butte,  and   limestone   quarries   that   appear   like   open   sores   in   the   earth   appear   in   the   foreground.  The  quarries  were  nearly  abandoned  by  the  1880s,  but  had  provided   limestone  for  Parisian  plaster  for  centuries.301  In  the  distance,  the  three  mills  of  the   Butte  and  small  plots  appear  on  the  slope.    Although  these  images  maintain  a  sense   of  realism,  Van  Gogh  chose  to  pictorially  negate  the  city’s  aspects.                                                                                                                     300  Toos  and  Rijnders  141.   301  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  54.           160   In  both  The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry  images,  Van  Gogh  took  the   vantage  point  of  someone  standing  at  the  bottom  of  the  Butte   looking  up  to  the   Debray-­‐family  farm.  The  paintings  include  small-­‐scale  figures  viewed  from  someone   who   ostensibly   observes   the   workers   from   within   the   small   plots   or   allotments,   known  as  jardin  ouvriers  or  biens  de  famille.  Allotments  were  small  strips  of  arable   land   operated   by   poor   tenant   farmers   who   paid   rent   to   a   landowner.302  The   allotments  Van  Gogh  depicted  were  located  directly  behind  the  mills,  La  Guinguette,   and  the  Bal  du  Moulin  de  la  Galette.  Van  Gogh’s  perspective  from  the  other  side  of   the   Butte   destabilizes   the   patriarchal   view   in   paintings   by   artists   such   as   John   Constable  (1776-­‐1837)   in,  for  example,  The  Cornfield  (1826)  [figure   25],  an  image   Van  Gogh  knew.303  In  The  Cornfield,  Constable,  himself  from  a  wealthy  landowning                                                                                                                   302  Micheline   Nilsen,   The   Working   Man’s   Green   Space:   Allotment   Gardens   in   England,   France,   and   Germany,  1870-­‐1919  (Virginia:  University  of  Virginia  Press,  2014)  1-­‐3,  7-­‐9,  98-­‐100,  109-­‐111.  Although   poor  peasant  farmers  worked  small  plots  of  land  around  urban  French  centers  since  the  middle-­‐ages,   an  organized  allotment  structure  began  under  the  Third  Republic,  later  than  England  and  Germany.  In   France,  allotments  moved  to  urban  areas  during  the  early  1870s  and  became  a  full-­‐fledged  workers’   garden  movement  in  the  1890s.  Landowners—and  in  France  many  churches  allotted  land—allowed   needy   workers   to   rent   land   to   feed   their   families   and   perhaps   sell   the   surplus,   depending   on   the   landowner’s  rules.  In  some  cases,  selling  the  surplus  was  prohibited;  but,  in  others,  sale  of  the  surplus   helped  the  tenant  gain  a  return  on  his  initial  investment  or  purchase  of  seeds.  An  allotment  typically   had   a   shed   and   a   water-­‐distribution   system   to   feed   the   plants.   The   landowner’s   rules   may   have   applied  to  the  size  of  the  shed,  the  ratio  of  fruits  and  vegetables,  or  ability  to  raise  livestock.  The  first   international  congress  of  jardin  ouvriers  was  held  in  1903,  and  the  second  in  1906.  At  this  time,  there   was  an  increase  in  French  allotments  gardens,  from  6,453  in  1903  to  12,081  in  1906.  On  the  1906   congress,   see:   Robert   Pico,   Deuxième   Congrès   International   des   Jardin   Ouvriers   (1907;   repr.,   Charleston,  South  Carolina:  BiblioLife,  2009)  64-­‐65.   303  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  453  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Monday,  August  4,  1884.  He  also  referred   to  Constable’s  The  Valley  Farm:  Willy  Lot’s  House  (1835).  “…you  certainly  won’t  forget  to  look  at  a   couple  of  very  fine  Constables  there  (Cornfield)  and  also  in  South  Kensington  (where  that  farm  is,   Valley  farm).  I’m  very  curious  as  to  what  will  have  struck  you  most  and  what  you’ll  have  seen  there.”           161   family,   provided   a   view   from   that   of   the   landowner.   The   small   figures   of   the   sheepherder  and  plowman  indicate  a  distance  necessary  to  the  class  system  of  the   patriarchy,   a   separation   that   indicates   how   social   difference   functions   within   the   economy.304  Figures  work  to  support  the  landowner;  his  achievements  are  implied   through  the  vantage  point  overlooking  his   land  and  his  workers.305  As  John  Barrell   has  pointed  out,  Constable’s  figures  should  not  be  understood  as  dabs  of  paint  or   forms  of  color,  but  as  figures  who  are  absorbed  into  the  landscape  as  indiscriminate   aspects  of  work  under  the  gaze  of  the  landowner.306  These  figures  do  not  work,  but   are  worked.   In  The  Cornfield,  Constable  provided  a  view  of  the  land  extending  off   into  the  horizon,  and  from  the  perspective  above  the  path  in  the  foreground,  gaining   a   sense   of   the   vast   landscape   across   several   fields.   Past   the   plowman   in   The   Cornfield,  two  white  forms  topped  with  black  shapes  appear,  and,  in  this  way,  the                                                                                                                   304  On  the  landowner’s  perspective  in  Constable’s  paintings,  see:  John  Barrell,  “John  Constable,”  The   Dark   Side   of   Landscape:   The   Rural   Poor   in   English   Painting,   1730-­‐1840   (Cambridge:   Cambridge   University   Press,   1980)   131-­‐164.   Constable’s   family   position   was   that   of   wealthy   landowners,   and   thus  he  had  a  conservative  “rural  tory”  view  of  workers.  His  figures  of  the  labor-­‐class  are  small  to   underscore  their  insignificance.  The  laborers  do  not  work  in  the  pastoral  sense  “whereby  the  fruits  of   nature   are   easily   come   by,   more   or   less   without   effort”   (132).   Instead,   from   the   perspective   of   a   landowner  (painted  by  an  artist  who  himself  did  not  know  the  names  of  his  father’s  laborers),  they   are  worked  (137).  In  this  way,  they  are  in  harmony  with  the  land  as  their  hard  labor  is  necessary  to   support  patriarchal  aims.  Constable  developed  his  aesthetic  at  a  time  when  a  “class-­‐consciousness   [of]  the  rural  poor”  developed:  there  was  a  perceived  difference  between  the  laborer’s  individuality   and  “what  others  forced  them  to  be”  (156).  Thus,  the  distance  Constable  maintained  in  his  paintings   between  the  small-­‐scale  figures  and  the  viewer  is  one  necessary  to  social  difference,  and  Constable’s   ideas  of  “social  harmony”  are  based  on  “social  division”  (164).   305  Barrell  133.   306  Barrell  141-­‐149.         162   figures  perform  work  in  harmony  with  the  landowning  system,  not  necessarily  with   nature.     Similarly,  Van  Gogh’s  almost  imperceptible  figures  in  The  Hill  of  Montmartre   with  Stone  Quarry  paintings  suggest  a  distance  between  the  viewer  and  the  worker.   Van   Gogh’s   viewer   looks   up   to   the   Debray-­‐family   farm   building   and   thus   to   the   position  of  power  from  that  of  the  worker’s  space  within  his  rented  plot.  The  stone   quarry   in  the  foreground  serves  as  a  reminder  of  the  production  the  land  and  its   workers  yield;  the  figures  peering  over  the  edge  highlight  its  importance.  Van  Gogh’s   perspective   is   from   the   earth,   not   from   hierarchical   position   hovering   above   the   landscape.   Earthy   hues   frame   the   base   of   the   canvas,   providing   a   space   for   the   viewer  who  can  look  down  at  the  ground  from  the  margin  of  the  picture  plane.  Van   Gogh  addressed  class  through  metaphorical  means.  The  figures  operate  under  the   gaze  of  the  landowner  implied  from  the  farmhouse  atop  the  hill,  and  thus  the  viewer   is  alongside  fellow  tenants  among  the  allotments,  casting  an  egalitarian  gaze.  In  the   first   few   images   of   the   Butte,   Van   Gogh   complicated   the   expected   sense   of   land   ownership  and  the  space  of  the  viewer,  yet  conveyed  the  worker  as  an  element  in   the  allotment  system  under  which  peasants  work  their  rented  land.     At  this  time,  Van  Gogh  also  began  studying  the  plots  at  a  closer  range,  within   the  work  area,  and  developed  a  compositional  strategy  that  organized  his  allotment   imagery  through  a  newfound  perspective.  In  one  of  his  earliest  images,  Le  Moulin  de         163   la   Galette   (1886)   [figure   26],   Van   Gogh   conveyed   a   painterly   description   of   allotments.   The   organization   of   urban   allotments   developed   under   the   Third   Republic  in  the  early  1870s.307  The  allotment  system  was  considered  social-­‐reform   and  the  landowner  as  charitable  citizen  because  the  service  allowed  tenant  farmers   to  grow  food  to  feed  their  families.  The  arrangement  was  also  understood  as  a  form   of   social   control   that   upheld   the   conservative   values   of   landowners   because   the   working   poor   had   to   manage   their   land,   rather   than   spend   idle   time   drinking   in   taverns   or   meeting   with   socialist   factions. 308  Allotments   were   organized   as   a   collective   association   of   members   and   rules   were   particular   to   the   landowner.   In   most   cases   the   rules   extended   to   a   tenant’s   behavior   as   well.   Depending   on   the   rules,  tenants  could  also  sell  their  surplus,  which  was  sometimes  encouraged  as  it   enabled  the  laborer  to  pay  his  rent  and  make  a  return  on  his  initial  investment.     Van   Gogh’s   early   depiction   includes   some   basic   elements   of   allotment   farming.   Sheds,   two   of   which   stand   in   the   foreground   framing   the   path,   were   typically  required  on  each  plot  and  were  a  recognized  aspect  of  allotment  aesthetics.   The  allotments  were  also  disconnected  from  a  residence  and  were  often  provided,   though  rent  dues  applied,  from  an  existing  farm  or  smallholding,  a  small-­‐scale  farm                                                                                                                   307  See  note  302  in  this  chapter.   308  Nilsen  110.           164   that   measured   less   than   50   acres. 309  In   the   1870s,   farmers   began   using   new   agricultural   techniques   and   landowners   who   owned   or   leased   smallholdings   and   peasant   farmers   who   worked   the   allotments   were   thus   able   to   provide   a   large   portion   of   goods   throughout   the   nineteenth-­‐century   in   France. 310  By   1884,   smallholdings   occupied   half   of   France’s   landmass,   and   the   productivity   gave   peasants  a  sense  of  financial  security  as  the  output  satisfied  the  country’s  demands   and  hindered  the  need  for  large-­‐scale  practices.311  The  system  also  gave  the  peasant   entry   into   the   agricultural   market,   and,   although   farming   practices   on   allotments   and  smallholdings  maintained  rural  traditions,  new  techniques  yielded  marketable                                                                                                                   309  Peter  McPhee,  “Preface,”  in  Stephen  J.  Russell,  Agriculture,  Prosperity,  and  the  Modernization  of   French  Rural  Communities,  1870-­‐1914:  Views  from  the  Village  (Lewiston,  Queenston  and  Lampeter,   2004)  vii-­‐viii.  A  smallholding  was  land  that  measured  less  than  20  hectares,  or  less  than  around  50   acres.  Russell’s  account  considers  the  Allier,  a  rural  department  in  central  France,  and  the  traditional   farming  methods  of  smallholdings.  In  France,  smallholdings  were  the  primary  agricultural  structure   throughout   the   nineteenth   century   until   World   War   I.   Peasants   operated   smallholdings   and   their   productivity  hindered  the  large-­‐scale  mechanical  process  of  farming  because  the  peasants  kept  up   with  the  country’s  agricultural  demands.  Historians  typically  understand  the  smallholdings  and  their   respective  operations  as  a  disruption  in  the  economy  of  large-­‐scale  farming,  but  Russell’s  research   indicates   that   they   prospered.   Peasants   intentionally   developed   a   system   by   which   they   gained   a   sense   of   financial   security,   feed   themselves,   and   contributed   to   the   French   economy   (4).   On   the   difference   between   an   allotment   and   a   smallholding,   see:   Nilsen   32-­‐33,   56,   161.   Although   Nilsen   bases  her  definition  of  the  smallholding  structure  on  the  English  model  and  the  1908  Small  Holdings   and   Allotments   Act,   her   figures   on   smallholdings   are   the   same   as   McPhee’s   regarding   France.   An   allotment   measured   between   one   and   five   acres   and   a   smallholding   between   one   and   fifty   acres.   Thus,   an   allotment   could   also   be   considered   a   smallholding.   The   allotments   were   also   sometimes   broken  off  from  a  smallholding,  and  an  allotment  typically  measured  two-­‐hundred  to  three-­‐hundred   square  meters.     310  Russell  59-­‐60.   311  McPhee,  “Preface,”  Russell  vii-­‐viii.         165   stock.312     In   terms   of   the   Butte,   I   think   the   Debray   family   may   have   owned   the   smallholding  and  provided  allotments  on  the  Butte’s  north  slope.  Van  Gogh’s  images   represent   a   rural   artisanal   farming   approach   within   an   urban   context,   and   old   farming  systems  that  were  reinvented  to  meet  the  agricultural  needs  of  the  country.   From  the  perspective  of  the  allotment  farmer  behind  Le  Blute-­‐fin,  Van  Gogh  used  a   row   of   unidentifiable   shrubs   to   mark   a   boundary   between   the   space   of   the   poor   tenant  farmer  and  that  of  the  residential  area  and  the  Butte’s  cafés.  Although  the   viewing  platform  crowded  with  observers  remains  in  clear  sight,  the  allotments  were   segmented  both  from  the  landowner’s  plot  and  the  city.  Similar  to  the  perspective   he  painted  from  his  apartment  window,  Van  Gogh  provided  a  view  of  the  middle   classes  from  the  vantage  point  of  the  laboring  poor,  and  kept  the  tenant  farmers  at  a   distance  from  the  leisure  class  that  indicates  the  peasant’s  marginal  status.  Unlike   the   view   from   his   window   that   assumes   the   perspective   of   the   artist   himself,   Le   Moulin  de  la  Galette  takes  the  view  of  a  person  standing  in  the  allotments.   In  so                                                                                                                   312  Stephen  J.  Russell,  Agriculture,  Prosperity,  and  the  Modernization  of  French  Rural  Communities,   1870-­‐1914:   Views   from   the   Village   (Lewiston,   Queenston   and   Lampeter,   2004)   13,   81-­‐82.   Russell   provides  an  example  of  the  relationship  between  the  smallholding’s  owner  and  the  tenant  farmer.  He   cites   a   passage   from   Émile   Guillaumin’s   Rose   et   sa   Parisienne   (1907)   in   which   the   tenant   farmer   worked  the  land  for  his  owner  who  lived  in  Paris,  accruing  for  50,000  francs  per  year.  Tenant  farmers   often  took  on  more  land  than  they  could  cultivate  themselves  and  managed  a  sharecropping  system.             166   doing,  Van  Gogh  begins  to  situate  the  viewer  within  the  canvas’s  narrative.313  The   expanse  of  the  path  runs  along  the  entire  base  of  the  canvas  and  weeds  or  plants   frame   an   implied   space   for   the   spectator,   a   pictorial   organizational   strategy   that   allows   the   participant   to   imagine   standing   on   the   earth   at   the   threshold   of   the   picture  plane.     The  following  year,  Van  Gogh  crafted  aspects  of  the  city   in  miniscule  sale,   and  enlarged  the  slope  of  the  Butte,  swelling  its  form.  Thus,  the  distance  between   those  working  to  feed  themselves  and  Montmartre  becomes  more  exaggerated.  In   Le-­‐Blute-­‐fin:  le  Moulin  de  la  Galette  (March  1887)  [figure  27],  Van  Gogh  relegated   signs  of  the  urban  view  of  Montmartre  to  the  periphery  of  the  otherwise  rural  scene.   The  terrace  platform  rises  to  the  right  of  the  windmill  and  the  streetlights  are  faintly   visible   between   the   foundation’s   pilings.   The   gray-­‐blue   triangle   on   the   far   right                                                                                                                   313  Greg  M.  Thomas,  Art  and  Ecology:  In  Nineteenth-­‐Century  France  (Princeton,  New  Jersey:  Princeton   University  Press,  2000)  34-­‐47.    Here,  and  for  subsequent  images  of  the  allotments  I  discuss,  I  take   Thomas’s   characterization   of   what   he   calls   the   “ellipsoidal   perspective”   in   relation   to   Théodore   Rousseau’s   and   Camille   Corot’s   mid-­‐nineteenth-­‐century   paintings.   Essentially,   Thomas   observes   an   elliptical   form,   created   by   sunlight,   shadow,   or   trees,   for   instance.   The   artists   intentionally   constructed   a   space   in   the   landscape   to   insinuate   the   viewer’s   body   on   the   earth,   within   the   environment,   and   as   a   part   of   the   pictorial   narrative.   Thomas   deems   this   an   ecological   visual   organization  that  disrupts  the  Renaissance  ideal  that  a  disembodied  eye  moves  through  the  painting’s   frame  that  serves  as  a  window.  Moreover,  Thomas  points  out  that  his  visual  evidence  is  in  contrast  to   a   panoramic   view.   In,   for   instance,   John   Constable’s   The   Dung   Heap   (circa   1815)   the   raised   perspective   suggests   that   of   a   landowner   overseeing   his   expanse.   The   landowner   himself   commissioned  the  image  for  his  daughter.  In  Rousseau’s  landscapes,  in  contrast,  the  horizon-­‐line  is   lower   and   there   is   an   attention   to   detail   in   the   foreground   that   places   the   viewer   within   the   perspective   of   the   landscape.   The   viewer   can   thus   become   an   “imagined   physical   body”   in   the   landscape,  standing  at  “the  edge  of  the  picture’s  space”  (37).             167   provides  a  narrow  view  of  the  city  extending  below  the  Butte.314  In  this  image,  Van   Gogh  shifted  from  an  observational  study  to  a  transformative  interpretation  of  the   landscape.   Rather   than   convey   foreshortened   perspective,   he   compressed   the   figure-­‐ground  relationship.  A  viewer  can  look  directly  down  at  the  details  of  foliage   in  the  foreground  but  also  directly  at  the  fence  in  the  middle-­‐ground.  Through  an   inconsistent  series  of  posts  surrounding  the  farms,  Van  Gogh  emphasized  the  fence’s   makeshift  quality  and  used  it  to  divide  uncultivated  land  from  that  of  the  farm.  From   this   vantage   point,   the   artist   placed   the   viewer   outside   the   small   land   plots   and   among   the   grasses,   looking   up   toward   the   Butte.   Although   quotations   of   city   life   emerge  in  the  far  distance,  the  hill  obfuscates  tavern  life  just  beyond  the  terrace.   From   the   position   on   the   grass   signifying   the   Butte   as   a   rural   area,   the   viewer   is   denied  a  view  over  the  Butte  and  exposure  to  the  city’s  offerings.     Through   the   stretch   of   abstract   foliage   in   the   immediate   foreground   in   Le   Blute-­‐fin,  Van  Gogh’s  compositional  strategies  invite  the  viewer  to  be  an  imagined   embodied  participant,  and  subversively  articulate  the  complicated  social  narrative  of   the  Butte’s  allotments.  The  image  raises  questions  of  ownership  and  the  relation  of   work  to  the  land.  If   in  Constable’s   images  work  assumes  a  low-­‐level  role  within  a   system   of   hierarchical   power,   Van   Gogh’s   paintings   reinterpret   the   economic                                                                                                                   314  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  82.           168   structure  because  the  work  performed  is  for  benefit  of  the  laborer,  which  enhanced   his   nutrition,   income,   agricultural   education,   leisure   space,   and   connection   to   nature.315    In  Le  Blute-­‐fin,  the  male  figure  stands  leaning  against  fence,  observing  his   crops   in   a   space   in   which   he   has   some   sense   of   ownership.   Van   Gogh’s   image   problematizes  these  advantages.  Although  the  allotment  tenants  managed  land  they   oversaw  and  their  quality  of  life  had  in  some  ways  improved,  in  Van  Gogh’s  images   they  are  nonetheless  disconnected  from  Montmartre.  The  image  depicts  a  form  of   social  charity  and,  at  the  same  time,  underscores  the  reality  that  the  laboring  poor   did   not   have   access   to   middle-­‐class   Montmartre.   Just   over   the   Butte,   Van   Gogh   captured  a  crowd  of  fashionably  dressed  middle-­‐class  people  descending  the  stairs   of  le  Blute-­‐fin  in  Le  Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin  (1886)  [figure  28].  With  hats,  bustles,  and   corseted  silhouettes,  their  presence  is  distinctly  removed  from  the  afternoon  of  the   tenant  farmer,  who  they  can  view  from  the  deck.     In  subsequent  images,  Van  Gogh  took  the  first-­‐hand  perspective  of  a  person   walking  on  the  paths  within  the  allotment  gardens  rather  than  from  afar.  Among  the   plots   in  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments  (March-­‐April  1887)  and  Vegetable   Gardens  of  Montmartre  (summer  1887)  [figure  4  &  29],  the  Butte  halts  the  viewer’s   glimpse  over  the  hill,  indicating  the  truncated  portion  of  land  with  which  the  tenant                                                                                                                   315  McPhee  “Preface,”  in  Russell  viii.  Russell  30-­‐33.  Nilsen  130-­‐131,  143-­‐146,  146-­‐147.           169   farmer  had  to  work.  Staving  off  the  city’s  urban  boundary,  the  Butte  functions  as  a   class  border  between  the  farm  and  the  bustling  metropolis.  Moreover,  the  small-­‐ scale  viewing  platform  in  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments  and  the  Debray-­‐ family  farm  building  in  Vegetable  Gardens  have  become  considerably  smaller  than  in   previous  imagery.  In  this  way,  the  images  explore  notions  of  power  through  visibility.   Those  who  are  entitled  to  observe  from  the  viewing  platform  or  the  farm  and  the   tenant  farmers  who  operate  under  a  hierarchical  gaze  enact  a  visual  dynamic  that   explores  the  precarious  situation  of  the  working  poor.         In   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments,   a   non-­‐descript   pale-­‐yellow   structure  rises  to  the  left  and  the  viewing  terrace  appears  on  the  right,  representing   vague,  distant  signs  of  the  city.  Similar  to  the  foreground  space  in  Le  Blute-­‐fin,  the   rows   of   crops   extend   toward   the   threshold   of   the   picture   plane,   leaving   an   empathetic  space  for  the  viewer  and  including  him  or  her  in  the  position  of  walking   on  the  path  between  the  plots.  The  central  row  of  poles  leads  toward  the  viewer   and   veers   slightly   to   the   right,   indicating   that   the   viewer's   embodied   position   is   situated  between  the  grasses  on  the  left  and  the  fence  on  the  right.  The  spectator   walks  on  a  narrow  path  between  two  allotments  and  completes  an  asymmetrical   triangle   among   the   two   tenant   farmers   who   tend   to   their   fields.                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               Similarly,   the   path   in   Vegetable   Gardens   recedes   toward   the   mill   in   a   hyper-­‐ foreshortened   way,   moving   down   toward   the   lower   threshold   of   the   canvas   and         170   creating  an  experience  for  the  viewer  as  someone  who  is  walking  down  the  path.   The   viewer   thus   experiences   two   boundaries:   that   of   the   path   between   the   allotment  plots  and  that  of  the  Butte  between  the  allotments  and  the  city.  Whereas   the  path  is  inviting  and  asserts  the  viewer’s  egalitarian  position,  the  Butte  hinders  a   view  of  Montmartre,  severing  the  people  on  the  allotments  from  the  city.     In   contrast   to   Van   Gogh’s   images,   illustrations   of   the   period   celebrate   the   peasant’s  work  in  relation  to  Paris,  suggesting  the  important  tangential  connection   between   the   capital   and   the   farmer.   Panoramic   views   of   Paris,   such   as   that   illustrated  by  Pierre  Vidal   in  1899’s  La  Vie  à  Montmartre,  could  be  seen  from  the   Butte  [figure  30].   In  Vidal’s  image,  a  farmer  works  the  land  with  his  sickle,  but  he   need  only  glance  up  to  see  the  spectacle  of  Paris  to  the  south.  Likewise,  Signac’s   painting  of  the  rue  Caulaincourt  [figure  31],  near  his  Montmartre  studio,  juxtaposes   the  modern  aspects  of  the  arrondissement—city  streets,  sidewalks,  and  gas  lamps— against  the  vegetable  plots  and  the  Moulin  du  Blute-­‐Fin  in  the  background.  With  an   Impressionist   facture,   Signac’s   image   shows   a   flat   cross-­‐section   of   the   modern,   agricultural,   and   social   aspects   of   Montmartre.   In   Vidal’s   illustration   and   Signac’s   painting,  the  agricultural  life  of  the  peasant  visually  supports  Paris,  connecting  the   progressive  center  to  its  fringes  through  signs  of  modern  living.     Van  Gogh’s  visual  separation  of  the  tenant  farmer  from  the  city  underscores   a  subversive  concept  of  a  peasant  farmer  on  the  outskirts  of  Paris  that  was  particular         171   to   the   mid-­‐1880s.   Paris   was   one   of   the   largest   consumer-­‐driven   urban   cities   in   Europe  by  the  mid-­‐nineteenth  century.  When  the  railroads  were  built,  agriculture   moved   outside   the   city   limits.   316  Most   of   the   produce   grown   in   peripheral   communities  made  its  way  to  the  city’s  center  to  be  sold  at  Les  Halles,  which  since   the  1860s  had  been  the  largest  covered  food  market  in  the  world.317  The  concept  of   production-­‐focused  communes  and  their  relationship  to  the  economic  structure  of   Les  Halles  appears  in  Zola’s  The  Belly  of  Paris  (1873),  a  novel  Van  Gogh  read  in  1882   that   “painted”   a   description   of   the   market. 318  Set   during   the   Second   Empire   aftermath  of  the  1851  coup,  the  novel  begins  with  a  train  of  carts,  all  full  of  produce,   shuffling  through  the  night,  heading  to  Les  Halles.319  Zola  noted  that  the  country-­‐to-­‐                                                                                                                 316  Peter  J.  Atkins,  “’A  Tale  of  Two  Cities’:  A  Comparison  of  Food  Supply  in  London  and  Paris  in  the   1850s,”   Food   and   the   City   in   Europe   Since   1800,   ed.   Peter   J.   Atkins   (Hampshire,   England:   Ashgate   Publishing  Limited,  2007)  25.     317  Atkins  30.  Les  Halles  was  a  market  with  stalls  that  sold  meat,  produce,  dairy,  and  fish  in  the  First   arrondissement   in   the   city’s   center,   and   was   remodeled   under   Napoleon   III   and   Baron   von   Haussmann   to   enlarge   it   by   ten   times   its   original   size   and   to   include   gaslights   (a   then-­‐new   development   in   lighting)   so   people   could   work   early   in   the   morning   and   throughout   the   night.   Between  1854  and  1857,  Les  Halles  was  razed—developers  leveled  21  acres—and  rebuilt  to  include   six  pavilions.  Modern  materials,  such  as  iron  and  glass,  dominated  the  architecture  of  the  building.   Four  more  pavilions  were  added  in  the  mid-­‐1860s,  which  made  it  the  largest  covered  food-­‐market  in   the  world.   318  Émile  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris,  trans.  Brian  Nelson  (Oxford  and  New  York:  Oxford  University  Press,   2007).  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  251  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Wednesday,  July  26,  1882.  “I’m  still   under  the  spell  of  Zola’s  books.  How  painted  those  [Les]  Halles  are.”  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  245  to   Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Friday  July  7,  1882.  “P.S:  That  Émile  Zola  is  a  superb  artist.  I’m  now  reading   Le  ventre  de  Paris,  it’s  mightily  clever  [sic].”     319  Théo  wrote  letter  770  to  Vincent  van  Gogh  from  Paris  on  Wednesday,  May  8,  1889,  note  2.  Théo   once  saw  a  cart  with  four  horses  trying  to  pull  a  heavy  load  to  Les  Halles,  an  arduous  task  that  the   cart  driver  eventually  achieved  and  a  moment  that  left  an  impression  on  Théo  “I  remember  seeing         172   city  food  transfer   lulled  Parisians  asleep,  as  they  were  unaware  of  the  hard  labor   involved  and  simply  heard  a  faint  buzzing  noise  of  the  rigorous  commute.  Characters   such  as  widower  Madame  François  lived  a  hard  life  loading  and  carting  vegetables  to   Les  Halles  from  Nanterre.  Similar  to  the  tenant  farmers  on  the  Butte,  she  tended  “a   long   strip   of   ground,   divided   down   the   middle   by   a   narrow   path…on   a   gentle   slope.”320  “Green  hedges  separated  [her  garden]  from  other  plots  of  land,”  and  the   vegetables  she  grew  were  taxed  upon  crossing  into  the  Parisian  boundary  from  the   communes,  but  she  made  the  journey  alone  to  make  a  living.321     Van  Gogh  appreciated  Madame  François  for  her  humanity  as  she  helped  one   of   the   main   characters   Florent   Quenu,   an   activist   who   aimed   to   restructure   Les   Halles  to  feed  the  poor  and  lower  the  taxes  levied  on  produce.322    Zola’s  seventy-­‐two                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               something  that  struck  me  greatly  a  long  time  ago.  In  rue  des  Petits-­‐Carreaux  I  saw  a  very  heavy  dray   which  had  to  climb  that  street.  The  driver  struck  his  four  horses  harder  and  harder,  but  right  in  the   middle  the  worn-­‐out  horses  refused  to  go  a  step  further.  So  he  made  them  turn  round  and,  when   they  were  back  at  the  bottom  of  the  street,  almost  without  resting  them,  he  turned  round  again  and   arrived  at  the  top  of  the  street  without  difficulty.”     320  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  188.   321  Zola,   The   Belly   of   Paris   124,   188,   189.   Émilie   Charles   quoted   in   Russell   3.   Derfier   125.   Peasant   farmers  were  taxed  on  goods  crossing  Paris’s  borders  or  for  violating  new  agricultural  sanctions  and   referred  to  the  Third  Republic  as  “the  first  thief.”   322  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  250  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  July  23,  1882.  “Now  I  must  ask  you   what  you  think  of  Mme  François,  who  picks  up  poor  Florent  as  he  lies  unconscious  in  the  middle  of   the   road   where   the   vegetable   carts   are   passing,   and   lets   him   ride   with   her.   Although   the   other   vegetable  sellers  shout:  ‘Leave  him  lying  there,  the  drunk!  We’ve  no  time  to  pick  up  men  lying  in  the   gutter,’  &c  [sic].  The  figure  of  Mme  François  stands  against  the  background  of  the  Halles  throughout   the  book,  contrasting  with  the  brutal  egoism  of  the  other  women,  so  calm  and  so  dignified  and  so   sympathetic.”  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  124.  Zola’s  character  Florent  Quenu,  an  activist  who  aimed  to   be  a  political  writer,  wanted  to  reorganize  Les  Halles.  Florent  “successively  drafted  an  outline  for  a         173   year-­‐old   Mére   Chantemesse   made   a   mere   forty   sous   a   day   selling   turnips   on   the   street   near   Les   Halles.323  Allotment   farmers   like   Madame   François,   managed   land   autonomously,   grew   food   to   feed   Paris’   citizens,   and   recycled   the   waste   the   city   created.  “Paris,”  Zola  wrote,  “made  everything  rot  and  returned  everything  to  the   earth,  which  never  wearied  of  repairing  the  ravages  of  death.”324  Madame  François   also  enjoyed  the  benefits  of  the  allotment  system:  “…a  great  sense  of  peace…silence   disturbed  only  by  buzzing  insects…the  scent  of  thyme  warmed  by  the  sun.”325     Van  Gogh’s  allotment  paintings  engage  with  the  dichotomy  of  the  working   poor.  Painter  Émile  Bernard  wrote  that  it  was  due  to  Zola’s  influence,  “that  Vincent   thought   of   painting   the   humble   shanties   of   Montmartre   where   the   lower   middle   classes  come  to  cultivate  their  tiny  pieces  of  sand  in  the  early  morning  sun.”326  Van   Gogh  created  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments  and  Vegetable  Gardens  at  a   time  when  socialist  leaders  and  the  peasants  themselves  were  fighting  to  keep  their   land.   In   the   early   1880s,   questions   regarding   smallholdings   occupied   socialist                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               complete  reform  of  the  administrative  system  of  Les  Halles,  a  scheme  for  transforming  the  city  dues,   levied  on  produce  as  it  entered  Paris,  into  tax  on  sales,  a  new  system  for  distributing  provision  to  the   poorer  neighborhoods,  and  finally,  a  vague  humanitarian  scheme  for  the  common  warehousing  of   the   produce   brought   to   markets,   with   the   aim   of   ensuring   that   every   household   in   Paris   would   receive  the  minimum  daily  supply.”   323  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  12,  see  note  on  page  279.   324  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  188.     325  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  189.   326  Émile  Bernard,  “People  of  Today:  Vincent  Van  Gogh”  quoted   in  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  ed.,   Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  (Englewood  Cliffs,  New  Jersey:  Prentice-­‐Hall,  Inc.  1974)  38.         174   political   platforms,   such   as   should   small   plots   be   collectively   folded   into   larger   operations?   Or,   should   peasant   farmers   continue   to   individually   work   small   farms?327  By  the  mid-­‐1880s,  socialists  adapted  the  latter  policy  and  argued  to  allow   farmers   to   work   their   land   in   allotments,   hoping   to   ensure   some   financial   opportunities   for   later   generations.328  In   contrast   to   England,   a   country   that   had   moved   toward   progressive   large-­‐scale   agricultural   practices,   France   depended   on   the  smallholdings,  an  agricultural  revolution  that  kept  pace  with  rising  demands.  329   Paris   still   depended   on   smallholdings   for   its   food   supply   more   than   large-­‐scale   production,  causing  almost  half  (47%)  of  its  labor  force  to  work  in  the  agricultural   sector. 330  Part   of   the   move   toward   large-­‐scale   methods   was   based   on   false                                                                                                                   327Derfier  124-­‐125.  In  1883,  the  French  Work’s  Party  (Parti  ouvrier  français  or  POF)  formed  to  fight  for   worker’s   rights.   The   Party   was   part   of   a   larger   movement   to   provide   better   living   and   working   conditions  to  those  dependent  on   labor-­‐based  wages.  Two  POF  leaders  differed  regarding  how  to   manage  small-­‐scale  farms.  Jules  Guesede  feared  that  peasant  farmers  would  disappear  if  they  owned   their   individual   farms:   a   “swift   and   inevitable   disappearance   of   petty   proprietors   in   the   face   of   capitalist  encroachments.”  In  contrast,  Paul  Lafargue  fought  against  the  strategy  to  collectivize  the   smaller  plots  and  for  the  rights  of  the  peasant  and  his  or  her  small  allotment  of  land.  He  understood   the  collective  approach  as  a  capitalist  system  in  which  someone  would  eventually  out-­‐earn  others  at   the  expense  of  those  who  had  worked  their  land  for  generations.  Lafargue  argued  that  by  preserving   the  family-­‐owned  and  operated  peasant  farms,  the  worker  would  be  in  control  of  his  own  livelihood   and  not  succumb  to  the  capitalist-­‐driven  system  of  appropriating  land  that  could  be  past  down  for   generations.     328  Derfier  126.  Writing  in  1882,  Lafargue  urged  his  party  to  support  the  maintenance  of  the  peasant   way  of  life,  calling  it  “madness”  to  collectively  or  co-­‐operatively  organize  “the  small  weaver’s  loom,   the   boatman’s   vessel,   or   the   peasant   proprietor’s   land.”   By   1884,   the   Party   recognized   Lafargue’s   point.  In  an  attempt  to  win  peasants’  votes,  the  Party  made  a  distinction  between  capitalist  owners   and  small-­‐farm  peasant  owners.   329  Russell  13-­‐21.     330  Peter  McPhee,  “Preface,”  in  Russell  viii.  On  agricultural  labor  force  statistics,  see:  Derfier  126.         175   assumptions  that  smallholding  farms  were  ill  kept  shantytowns.331  Among  Madame   François’s  neatly  organized  garden,  “the  eternal  cradle,”  there  was  not  a  weed  in   sight,  and  Zola  characterized  her  produce  as  fresh  and  clean.332   Within  the  space  of  the  gardens,  Van  Gogh’s  depiction  of  the  smallholdings   addresses  the  complicated  notions  of  allotment  gardening  and  land  ownership.  In   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   and   Vegetable   Gardens,   the   artist   emphasized  that  farming  production  works  as  a  small-­‐scale  system,  conveying  the   economic   structure   on   which   the   peasants   depended.   Unlike   Van   Gogh’s   Dutch-­‐ period  Flower  Beds  in  Holland  (c.  1883)  [figure  32]   in  which  he  delineated  colorful   banks   of   tulips   with   saturated   hue,   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   he   used  texture  and  shape  to  emphasize  the  differing  crop.  Through  the  motif  of  fences   and   robust   patches   of   color   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments,   Van   Gogh   stressed  the  division  among  the  various  crops  and  plots.  The  posts  and  sheds  are  of   varying  heights,  sizes,  and  qualities,  indicating  that  they  were  built  and  arranged  by   the   tenant   farmers   themselves.   Allotment   sheds   represented   a   tenant   farmer’s                                                                                                                   331  Russell   18.   Stephen   Russell   has   overturned   the   misunderstood   notion   that   smallholdings   were   primitive.  Instead,  the  system  depended  on  a  large  group  of  smaller  farms  that  implemented  new   techniques  and  supported  the  agricultural  industry.   332  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  189.           176   individual  creativity,  rather  than  imposed  standards  of  materials  and  dimensions.333   In  the  painting,  each  shed  has  a  different  shape—squat  and  square  with  a  flat  roof  or   long  and  narrow  with  a  pitched  roof.  The  irregular  construction  of  the  sheds  stems   from   the   tenant   farmer’s   ability   to   build   his   own   structure;   he   need   not   follow   prescribed  measurement.  Among  their  rented  parcels,  they  had  a  sense  of  agency,  a   freedom  within  their  landscape  to  experience  nature.334  Away  from  “dreadful  Paris”   that  aged  him,  Florent  was  “reborn  in  pure  air”  on  Madame  François’s  garden  plot,   where  the  sunshine  shone  in  his  eyes.335  Similarly,  Van  Gogh  indicates  a  pervasive   warm   sunlight   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   in   the   vegetable   garden   through   a   bright   yellow,   a   hue   that   seems   to   blanket   the   earth   beneath   the   vegetables.  The  sun’s  rays  do  not  reflect,  rather  the  vegetables  grow  as  a  symbol  of   the  sun;  its  light  infused  in  the  ground  of  the  allotments.  Tidy  vibrant  rows  unfurl   toward  the  viewer,  signifying  the  growth  occurring  in  the  gardens.     Van   Gogh   directly   connected   the   figures   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   to   their   crops   by   means   of   hue.   The   male   figure   on   the   left   and   the   female   figure   on   the   right   share   colors,   such   as   green,   red,   and   orange,   with   the                                                                                                                   333  David  Crouch  and  Colin  Ward,  The  Allotment:  Its  Landscape  and  Culture  (1988  repr.,  Nottingham:   Five  Leaves  Publications,  2007)  11,  31.  See  also:  Nilsen  144.     334  Nilsen  144.     335  Zola,  The  Belly  of  Paris  190.           177   land.   In   this   way,   the   peasants   are   metaphorically   connected   to   their   fields.   In   Pissarro’s  The  Gardens  of  l’Hermitage,  Pontoise  (c.  1867)  [figure  33],  the  small-­‐scale   figures  are  an  expected  part  of  a  rural  French  landscape  painting.  Richard  Brettell   points   out   that   the   peasant   farmers   in   Pissarro’s   images   of   L’Hermitage   populate   rather  than  define  their  space.336  Pissarro  shows  no  indication  that  he  engaged  with   the   peasants.   Instead,   they   appear   as   a   part   of   the   natural   landscape.   Pissarro   indicated   the   difference   between   the   upper-­‐classes   and   the   rural   farmers   in   Pontoise  by  isolating  classes  within  the  canvas;  only  rarely  did  Pissarro  include  both   upper   and   lower   classes   in   one   image.   Gardens   L’Hermitage   does   not   imply   the   viewer,  but,  similar  to  Constable,  hovers  above  the  fields  gazing  down  on  the  earth   and   the   peasants.   While   the   landscape   in   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments   also   overwhelms   the   figures,   the   path   and   fence   pole   suggest   the   viewer’s   engagement  with  the  Butte  tenant  farmer.  Thus  the  painting’s  perspective  conveys   the  community  the  tenant  farmer  experienced  on  his  plot.     For   the   urban   tenant   farmer   the   break   from   the   city   came   as   a   confined,   controlled   sense   of   freedom.   Van   Gogh’s   allotment   aesthetic   in   Montmartre:   Windmills  and  Allotments  also  conveys  the  tension  of  the  allotment  garden  and  the   tenant   farmer   within   the   landscape.   Although   they   enjoyed   a   temporary   rural                                                                                                                   336  Richard  Brettell,  Pissarro  and  Pontoise:  The  Painter  and  the  Landscape  (New  Haven  and  London:   Yale  University  Press,  1990)  124-­‐130,  130-­‐135.         178   retreat   from   the   pressures   of   Paris   among   fresh-­‐growing   vegetables,   their   rented   land  is  not  an  expansive  far-­‐reaching  realm,  but  a  tiny  domain  bounded  by  the  city   and  supported  by  a  landowner.  The  viewing  platform  serves  as  a  reminder  that  the   peasants  could  be  observed  and  inspected.337  When  painting   in  Pontoise,  Pissarro   omitted   signs   of   industry   and   bourgeois   pastimes   to,   in   Robert   Herbert’s   terms,   construct   decidedly   rural   images.338  Van   Gogh’s   inclusion   of   a   landowner’s   farm   building  and  a  middle-­‐class  viewing  deck  indicates  that  he  departed  from  Pissarro’s   imagery  by  considering  the  peasant’s  role  within  a  middle-­‐class  urban  context.  On   the  allotments  in  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments,  the  tenant  farmer  remains   fixed,   confined   within   his   plot   and   thus   the   middle-­‐classes   can   exert   their   hierarchical   gaze   over   the   tenant   farmer.   The   allotment   farmer’s   access   to   their   rented  parcel  depended  on  their  behavior  and  ability  to  conform  to  the  landowner’s   agenda.  Thus,  the  viewing  platform  allows  the  middle  class  observer  to  enact  his  or   her   power,   sustaining   the   dominant   relationship   of   the   middle-­‐classes   over   the   working  poor.  Although  the  tenant  farmers  earn  wages,  they  remain  rooted  in  the   environment  and  disconnected  from  the  urban  center  they  work  to  feed.                                                                                                                     337  Michel  Foucault,  “Panopticism,”  Discipline  &  Punish:  The  Birth  of  the  Prison,  trans.  Alan  Sheridan   (1975;  repr.  New  York:  Vintage  Books,  1995)  195-­‐209.  “Hence  the  major  effect  of  the  Panopticon:  to   induce   in   the   inmate   a   state   of   conscious   and   permanent   visibility   that   assures   the   automatic   functioning  of  power”  (201).   338  Robert  Herbert,  A  Day  in  the  Country:  Impressionism  and  the  French  Landscape  (New  York:  Harry   N.  Abrams,  1994)  179.           179   In   Wheatfield   with   Partridge   (June-­‐July   1887)   [figure   34],   Van   Gogh’s   allotment   aesthetic   extends,   in   some   respects,   to   the   crop   itself.   In   depicting   the   field,   the   painter   addressed   the   paradoxical   relationship   between   abundance   and   issues   that   affected   the   lower-­‐class   farmer.339  The   grain   crop,   particularly   wheat,   took   on   a   significant   meaning   as   it   represented   traditional   farming   ways   but   also   signified  a  point  of  economic  disparity  between  the  Third  Republic  and  the  labor-­‐ class.  340  With  a  cut  row  of  grain  in  the  foreground,  and  wheat  swaying  in  the  wind  in   the  background,  Wheatfield  symbolizes  the  cycles  of  the  harvest.  Although  the  crop   appears  abundant,  in  1880s  France,  wheat  was  in  decline.  Between  1878  and  1879,   the   country’s   wheat   supply   could   not   meet   demands,   so   wheat   had   to   be   imported.341  During   a   depression   in   wheat   prices   around   the   world,   the   prices   declined  further  in  France  due  to  the  dependence  on  grain  from  America  and  Russia   where  farmers  had  robust  harvests.  Import  prices  suppressed  financial  wheat  yields   for  French  farmers  into  the  mid-­‐1880s.                                                                                                                     339  Welsch-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  144.     340  Russell  50,  note  13.  Rural  economic  developments  took  hold  slowly.  As  they  did,  the  government   took  an  active  role  in  establishing  best  practices  and  enforcing  protocol.  The  new  techniques  evolved   in  three  stages.  The  first,  beginning  at  the  end  of  the  Second  Empire  and  into  the  1880s,  encouraged   farmers  to  begin  planting  ground  cover  rather  than  have  fields  lie  fallow  and  use  manure  as  the  only   fertilizer.  Aside  from  planting  grains  such  as  wheat,  farmers  were  encouraged  to  begin  varying  crops,   grow  meadows  and  use  plows  that  dug  into  the  soil  more  deeply  for  effective  crop  growth  and  soil   maintenance.   341  Russell  63.           180   In  Sheaves  of  Wheat  (July-­‐August  1885)  [figure  35],  Van  Gogh  had  considered   bountiful   grain   as   a   subject   matter   when   he   was   painting   in   Nuenen.   During   the   summer  harvest  of  1885,  the  artist  painted  several  bunches  of  crop  standing  in  a   freshly  cut  field,  conveying  the  stoic  quality  of  a  new  harvest  against  the  landscape.   The  artist  organized  his  canvas  into  three  planes:  a  foreground  with  cut  grain,  the   central  subject  of  the  crop  itself,  and  a  background  with  a  slightly  overcast  Holland   sky.  He  also  made  drawings  of  laborers,  a  celebration  of  their  commitment  to  their   work   and,   at   the   same   time,   a   reminder   that   they   are   entwined   with   field   labor   [figures   36   &   37].   Large,   robust   bodies   that   have   been   shaped   by   a   lifetime   of   bending,  hoeing,  picking,  and  gathering  seem  to  meld  with  the  shape  of  harvested   wheat   or   the   earth   beneath   them.342  Van   Gogh’s   image   of   an   abundant   crop   monumentalizes   the   peasants’   efforts   and   suggests   that   the   hard   work   of   the   Nuenen  peasant  produced  a  significant  resource.     Writing  to  Willemien  from  Paris  in  the  fall  1887,  Vincent  used  wheat  as  a  sign   of  oppression:                                                                                                                   342  Griselda  Pollack,  “The  Ambivalence  of  the  Maternal  Body:  Re/drawing  Van  Gogh,”  Differencing  the   Canon:  Feminist  Desire  and  the  Writing  of  Art’s  Histories  (London  and  New  York:  Routledge,  1999)  41-­‐ 63.   Griselda   Pollack   observes   that   Van   Gogh’s   drawings   of   women   bending   diverge   from   similar   images  of  bending  women  at  work,  such  as  Millet’s  (46).  This  distinction,  she  argues,  represents  a   gendered  power  dynamic  between  Van  Gogh,  a  bourgeois  artist  who  can  afford  to  hire  a  model,  and   the  model,  a  woman  of  the  working-­‐poor  class  who  is  made  to  bend  before  the  artist.  Pollack  posits   that  the  act  of  bending  is  a  mark  of  class  as  bourgeois  women  would  not  be  able  to  bend  due  to   corsets,  and,  if  they  could  bend,  they  would  not  do  so  before  a  man.  The  hired  model  in  Van  Gogh’s   imagery  bends  before  him,  her  body  vulnerable  before  his  gaze.  Pollack  reads  the  pose  as  sexual  and   thus  Van  Gogh’s  drawings  of  bending  women  as  an  exertion  of  the  male  artist’s  phallocentric  desire.         181   Now  what  shall  I  say  about  your  little  piece  about  the  plants  and   the   rain?   You   see   for   yourself   in   nature   that   many   a   flower   is   trampled,   freezes   or   is   parched,   further   that   not   every   grain   of   wheat,   once   it   has   ripened,   ends   up   in   the   earth   again   to   germinate  there  and  become  a  stalk—but  far  and  away  the  most   grains  do  not  develop  but  go  to  the  mill—don’t  they?     Now   comparing   people   with   grains   of   wheat—in   every   person   who’s  healthy  and  natural  there’s  the  power  to  germinate  as  in  a   grain  of  wheat.  And  so  natural  life  is  germinating.     What  the  power  to  germinate  is  in  wheat,  so  love  is  in  us.  Now   we,  I  think,  stand  there  pulling  a  long  face  or  at  a  loss  for  words   when,   being   thwarted   in   our   natural   development,   we   see   that   germination  frustrated  and  ourselves  placed  in  circumstances  as   hopeless   as   they   must   be   for   the   wheat   between   the   millstones.343     Wheat,  for  Van  Gogh,  metaphorically  relates  to  the  farmer’s  position.  The  “wheat   between  the  millstones”  suggests  a  frustrating  future  for  the  labor  classes,  a  person   who   does   not   get   to   thrive,   but   who   is   instead   “being   thwarted”   in   the   “natural   environment.”   His   remarks   indicate   that   he   saw   wheat   as   an   allegorical   symbol   standing   for   those   who   had   been   “trampled”   by   a   greater   force   as   their   circumstances  did  not  allow  them  to  “germinate”  in  the  farming  system.     Greg  Thomas  notes  that  Barbizon  painters,  indicated  in  Jean-­‐François  Millet’s   imagery,   considered   the   ecology   of   Fontainebleau,   depicting   the   conservation   of                                                                                                                   343  Letter  574.             182   “nonindustrial”   peasant   life   while   peasants   harvest   grain.344     Van   Gogh   admired   Millet  and  copied  the  painter’s  Sower  (1850)  in  an  1881  work  on  paper  [figure  38].345   In  Millet’s  Gleaners  (1857)  [figure  39],  poor  peasants  have  come  to  pick  the  left  over   crop   from   the   main   harvest.   Millet   conveys   the   large   expanse   of   fields   that   surrounded   the   forest   where   peasants   planted   and   reaped   plentiful   harvests.346   Images  of  wheat  from  the  same  year  Van  Gogh  made  his  allotment  paintings,  such   as  Pissarro’s  Haymaking,  Érgany  (1887)  [figure  40],  represent  notions  of  work  in  a   pastoral  sense  as  the  peasants  in  this  field  tend  to  their  tasks  with  little  effort.347  The   peasants  gather  mounds  of  hay  together  after  what  appears  to  be  a  long  day  (based   on  the  low-­‐lying  sun)  of  field  work.  The  horizon  line  far  off  in  the  distance  under  a                                                                                                                   344  Thomas  69,  214-­‐215.  Millet’s  imagery,  painted  during  the  transition  from  the  Second  Republic  to   the  Second  Empire,  focused  on  the  Forest  of  Fontainebleau,  a  royal-­‐game  preserve  intact  since  the   French  Renaissance  south-­‐west  of  Paris  that  Napoleon  III  began  cutting  down  to  make  plantations.   Under  the  Second  Empire,  Barbizon  painters  petitioned  Napoleon  III  (Alfred  Sensier  perhaps  authored   the  document)  to  preserve  the  forest:  “for  artists  who  study  nature,  it  offers  what  others  find  in  the   models…of   the   great   masters   of   past   ages.”     I   quoted   a   petition   to   Napoleon   III   (1852),   probably   written  by  Alfred  Sensier,  Théodore  Rousseau’s  biographer,  who  “made  naturalism  the  core  of  his   richly  documented  study  of  Rousseau’s  life”  (78).     345  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter  166  to  Théo  from  Etten  around  Saturday,  April  30,  1881.  “The  sower   is   finished…and  now  still  to  come  are  the  laborers  in  the  field.”  On  Van  Gogh  and  his  understanding  of   Alfred  Sensier,  see:  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  210  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Saturday,  March  11,  1882.   “Listen,  Théo,  what  a  man  that  Millet  was!  I  have  the  big  work  by  Sensier  on  loan  from  De  Bock.  It   interests  me  so  much  that  I  wake  up  at  night  and  light  the  lamp  and  go  on  reading.”  Van  Gogh  wrote   letter   158   to   Théo   from   Cuesmes,   Belgium,   on   Friday   September   24,   1880.“What   you   say   in   your   letter  on  the  subject  of  Barbizon  is  very  true  and  I’ll  tell  you  one  or  two  things  that  will  prove  to  you   that  that’s  my  own  way  of  seeing  as  well.”  Van  Gogh  depicted  sower  figures  in  1881  and  1888  and   copied  another  Millet  series  of  figures  binding  sheaves  in  1889.   346  Thomas  151-­‐153.     347  Van  Gogh  Museum,  http://vangoghmuseum.azurewebsites.net/en/collection/s0520S2010.  Théo   sold  this  painting  in  1887,  so  perhaps  Vincent  would  have  seen  it.         183   blue   sky   dotted   with   clouds   conveys   the   large-­‐scale   stretch   of   land.   Pissarro   celebrated  the  figure  among  the  vast  landscape,  and  the  peasant  within  his  or  her   rural   environment   in   collaboration   with   one   another.   In   contrast,   Van   Gogh’s   Wheatfield  alludes  to  the  complicated  relationship  between  the  laboring  farmer  and   a  stifling  financial  situation.  The  wheat  crop  in  his  painting  sways  collectively,  but   each  stalk  can  be  considered  as  an  individual  yearning  for  “power.”348  Van  Gogh’s   crop   reads   as   a   wall,   another   boundary   that   keeps   the   farmer   in   his   respective   economic  place.   In  Wheatfield,  the  shallow  space  of  the  foreground  indicates  the   farmer’s  space  is  limited,  growing  a  product  by  which  he  could  not  make  a  living.   Here,  the  viewer  finds  himself  in  an  inviting,  yet  unforgiving  landscape.  Akin  to  his   allotment  imagery,  Van  Gogh  used  the  landscape  to  convey  a  place  of  labor  that  was   a   respite   from   industrial   Paris,   but   operated   within   a   market   that   controlled   the   working  poor  whose  labor  in  turn  fed  Paris.  Whereas  Millet  and  Pissarro’s  paintings   maintain  a  rural,  non-­‐industrial  context,  Van  Gogh’s  allotment  paintings  and  field  of   wheat  show  the  effects  of  industry  within  a  rural  setting.  In  his  landscape  paintings   of   the   Butte,   Van   Gogh   did   not   maintain   the   character   of   unspoiled   plots   and   plentiful  harvests,  but  a  version  of  rural,  working-­‐class   life  mediated  by  the  city’s   middle  classes,  constructing  the  landscape  as  a  social  negotiation  between  charity   and  labor,  nature  and  sustenance.                                                                                                                         348  Letter  574.         184   Paris’s  Fortifications   The   paths   among   the   gardens   took   on   defining   strategies   in   Van   Gogh’s   allotment  imagery,  occupying  the  base  of  the  painting  and  serving  as  a  vehicle  by   which  the  viewer  enters  the  image.  From  the  path,  issues  of  surveillance  and  social   control  arise  amid  a  tranquil  landscape.  The  compositional  strategy  is  also  at  work  in   the  images  Van  Gogh  made  of  the  fortifications.  Van  Gogh  created  several  works  on   paper  that  depict  the  transitional  spaces  between  the  city  and  its  outlying  suburbs.   Gate  in  the  Paris  Rampart  (summer  1887),  Road  Running  Beside  the  Paris  Ramparts   (June  1887),  Fortifications  of  Paris  with  Houses  (summer  1887)  and  Fortifications  of   Paris   (1887)   comprise   four   works   on   paper   in   which   Van   Gogh   considered   the   boundary  between  Paris  and  Clichy  [figures  41-­‐44].349  Richard  Thomson  points  out   that   Van   Gogh’s   fortification   drawings   are   observational   drawings   of   “precise   modernity”   and   do   not   convey   the   complicated   notions   of   a   marginalized   community   among   structures   of   governmental   control.350  Van   Gogh   explored   the   socio-­‐political   climate   through   his   images   of   peripheral   communities   by   using   the   bastions  to  interrupt  the  horizon.  Considering  that  Clichy  was  an  industrial  commune   with   a   socialist   stronghold,   and   Van   Gogh’s   exploration   of   the   allotment   gardens                                                                                                                   349  The  Porte  de  Clichy  was  located  along  the  Avenue  de  Clichy,  which  transitioned  into  the  Boulevard   National,   running   north   throughout   the   Commune   de   Clichy   and   past   the   L’Usine   à   gaz   de   Clichy,   toward  the  Seine,  and  into  Asnières.   350  Richard   Thomson,   “Van   Gogh   in   Paris:   The   fortifications   drawings   of   1887,”   Jong   Holland   3   (September  1987):  14-­‐25.         185   examined   issues   of   class-­‐structure   and   power,   I   find   that   the   roads   through   the   fortifications   likewise   address   peasant   foot-­‐traffic   and   the   relation   between   labor   and  a  consumer-­‐driven  urban  center.351   Van  Gogh  depicted  the  Porte  de  Clichy,  the  passage  through  the  fortifications   between   the   city   proper   in   Montmartre   and   the   Commune   de   Clichy.   A   series   of   fortifications  built  around  Paris  between  1841-­‐1845,  the  boundary  had  a  history  of   class  struggle  as  the  July  Monarchy  (1830-­‐1848)  built  the  bastions  and  forts  to  utilize   force  during  class  warfare.  352  In  the  event  of  a  lower-­‐class  uprising,  the  government   could   extend   its   reach   toward   the   banlieue   quickly   and   forcefully.   Critics   saw   the   project  as  an  exclusionary  symbol  because  the  focus  was  on  the  urban  center,  not   on  those  living  on  the  city’s  boundary.  Some  of  the  land  for  the  fortifications  was   given  over  to  allotment  gardens;  during  the  Third  Republic,  though,  the  fortifications                                                                                                                   351  Berlanstein,   The   Working   People   of   Paris   47,   100,   159,   177.   Clichy   was   a   commune   with   many   different  types  of  factories—gas,  glass,  chemical,  printing—and  a  high  number  of  factory  and  metal   workers.  Although  in  the  1886  election,  Clichy  did  not  vote  in  a  socialist  candidate  to  office  as  had   happened  in  Saint-­‐Ouen,  the  commune’s  socialists  did  come  close.  There  was  also  a  conflict  between   factory   owners   and   the   rising   unions.   The   Paul   Dupont   printing   company   in   Clichy,   for   example,   employed   550   workers   and   provided   benefits,   such   as   pensions,   subsidized   housing,   and   medical   care,  so  that  Dupont  could  stave  off  union-­‐organized  workers.   352  Patricia  O’Brien,  “L’Embastillement  de  Paris:  The  Fortifications  of  Paris  during  the  July  Monarchy,”   French  Historical  Studies  9.1  (Spring  1975):  63-­‐65,  75-­‐76.  In  1844,  Louis  Philippe  completed  a  large-­‐ scale  project  to  build  a  series  of  forts  around  Paris  to  protect  it  militarily  and  to  centralize  the  capital   city’s  power.  Thiers,  then  the  minister  of  the  interior  and  by  1840  minister  of  foreign  affairs,  oversaw   the   plan   to   build   the   fortifications,   a   series   of   bastions,   gates,   and   terraces.     During   the   building   phase,  opponents  criticized  Thiers  and  the  fortification  plan  as  a  way  to  suppress  lower-­‐class  citizens   from  an  armed  revolt  against  the  bourgeoisie.         186   still   occupied   thirty   square   miles.353  In   the   1880s,   the   fortifications   Van   Gogh   depicted  had  an  unsavory  reputation  at  night—the  press  regularly  reported  violent   crimes  and  prostitution—but  by  day  it  was  the  most  open  route  between  the  city   and  the  banlieue.354     Lucien  Pissarro  depicted   laborers  walking  past  the  fortifications   in  1886  at   the  Porte  de  Saint-­‐Ouen,  separating  the  Commune  de  Saint-­‐Ouen  which  was  one  of   the   earliest   Communes   to   industrialize   in   the   1870s,   from   Paris   in   the   northeast   [figure   45].355  In   1886,   Saint-­‐Ouen   was   known   politically   as   a   socialist   commune   because   many   of   the   elected   officials   were   themselves   factory   workers.356  Lucien   drew   the   image   from   the   perspective   of   Paris   as   a   few   people   walk   by   the   fortifications.  With  their  backs  to  Paris,  they  walk  toward  the  industrial  commune   dotted   with   smokestacks   rising   up   from   the   residential   roofs.   Many   clerks   from   Saint-­‐Ouen  and  the  neighboring  Saint-­‐Denis,  had  to  commute  to  Paris  and  made  the   walk.357  The  trip  was  also  considered  a   leisurely  activity  for  the   labor  class.  Zola’s                                                                                                                   353  Nilsen  19.  Vizetelly  1.     354  Thomson,  “The  fortifications  drawings  of  1887”  20-­‐21.     355  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  260.  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  28.     356  Berlanstein,   The   Working   People   of   Paris   160.   Saint-­‐Ouen   also   had   socialist   solidarity   among   laborers,  who,  for  example  pulled  funds  together  to  help  the  Decazeville  miners  during  their  strike;   revolutionary  public  addresses  were  also  commonplace.   357  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  22,  32,  106.  In  Saint-­‐Ouen,  a  tanning  factory  that  utilized   mechanical  processes  (as  opposed  to  individualized  craftsman  products)  employed  150  workers,  and   the  Farcot  engineering  firm  employed  550  laborers  in  the  mid-­‐1880s.             187   working-­‐class   characters   in   L’Assommoir   (1877)   who   live   in   Montmartre,   Gervaise   and  Coupeau,  work  long  hours  as  a  laundress  and  roofer  respectively  and  “…took   their  Sunday  walk  over  Saint-­‐Ouen  way.”358  In  Lucien’s  image,  the  constant  steam  of   smoke  emanating  from  the  banlieue  indicates  the  work  of  hundreds  of  laborers.  The   fortifications  in  Lucien’s  drawing  suggest  the  working-­‐class’s  economic  connection  to   the  city  as  their  source  of  livelihood,  and  the  industrial  landscape  as  a  sign  of  the   cyclical  relationship  between  the  capital  and  those  who  produce  in  the  banlieue.  In   his  drawing,  Lucien  took  the  perspective  of  an  observer,  from  the  side  of  the  path,   and  treated  the  landscape  as  a  wide,  far-­‐reaching  expanse.  Just  over  the  fortification   lies  the  horizon,  extending  across  the  width  of  the  picture  plane.     Van  Gogh’s  bright,  sunny  depictions  of  the  fortifications  depart  from  Lucien’s   because  he  considered  the  point-­‐of-­‐view  of  a  working  commuter.  In  this  way,  Van   Gogh’s  drawings  construct  the  fortifications  as  a  passageway  for  the  working  classes,   a  sign  of  Paris’s  military  power,  and  a  class  divide  between  the  city  and  its  outlying   country.  Gate  in  the  Paris  Rampart  [figure  41]  is  a  view  toward  Paris  from  the  Porte   de  Clichy.359  A  horse-­‐drawn  omnibus  carries  passengers  outside  of  the  city.  By  1886,   Montmartre  had  grown  into  a  bustling  extension  of  the  capital  with  a  population  of                                                                                                                   358  Émile  Zola,  L’Assommoir,  trans.  Margaret  Mauldon  (Oxford  and  New  York:  Oxford  University  Press,   1995)  95.  Van  Gogh  did  not  mention  L’Assommoir  (1877),  a  story  that  began  in  1850,  specifically  in   his  letters.     359  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  134.           188   over   200,000,   making   it   necessary   for   horse-­‐drawn   omnibuses   to   transport   an   average   of   200   million   passengers   per   year.360  Among   the   crowd,   a   young   boy   perches,  shoulders  slumped,  on  the  edge  of  the  gate,  with  a  posture  reminiscent  of   the   central   working-­‐class   boy   in   Bathers   at   Asnières   (1884).   In   Bathers,   Seurat   connected  industry  and  the  environment  as  Clichy’s  factory  chimneys  chug  smoke   behind  working-­‐class  men  who  find  a  moment  of  repose  in  the  Seine.361  In  line  with   Seurat’s  Bathers,  Van  Gogh  depicted  an  afternoon  of  working-­‐class  transportation   against   the   backdrop   of   industry.   In   Gate   in   the   Paris   Rampart,   a   stand-­‐alone   Second-­‐Empire   building   rises   to   the   south   and   factory   smokestacks   appear   to   its   right,  indicating  the  metropolis  on  the  horizon.  Some  commuters  require  a  rest,  lying   down   along   the   path   behind   the   ramparts   in   Road   Running   Beside   the   Paris   Ramparts  [figure  42].  In  this  image,  another  horse-­‐drawn  omnibus  appears  between   the  fortifications.  Evident  here  as  well,  among  women  with  parasols,  are  the  factory   smokestacks   in   the   far   distance.   In   this   work   on   paper,   Van   Gogh   looked   toward   Clichy;  Montmartre  is  behind  him.  Thomson  identified  the  chimneys  of  the  Gouin   factory,   a   machine   company,   in   the   near   right   and   the   trees   of   Cimétière   des   Batignolles  on  the  left.362  A  place  that  was  neither  home  to  a  residential  community                                                                                                                   360  Herbert,  Impressionism:  Art,  Leisure  and  Parisian  Society  14.   361  Robert  Herbert,  Seurat  at  the  Making  of  La  Grande  Jatte  (Berkeley  and  Los  Angeles:  University  of   California  Press,  2004)  40-­‐45.     362  Thomson,  “The  fortifications  drawings  of  1887”  20.         189   nor  an  industrial  complex,  from  the  perspective  Van  Gogh  provided,  factories  appear   on   both   sides   of   the   boundary.   Thus,   from   both   directions,   industry   remains   the   endpoint,   suggesting   that   the   outskirts   of   the   city   function   to   provide   the   environment  of  the  factory  labor.     In   walking   between   industrialized   areas,   the   laborer   experiences   the   atmosphere  of  the  fortifications—pleasant  weather  and  greenery—as  a  relief  from   the   city   and   the   banlieue.   In   Van   Gogh’s   fortification   drawings,   the   bastions   are   structures  to  walk  through,  not  by,  as  the  bastions  and  walls  conceal  the  horizon  and   hem  in  the  pedestrians.  The  viewer  cannot  look  above  the  wall  and  at  the  horizon  as   in  Lucien’s   image.  In  contrast,  Van  Gogh’s  fortifications  rise  up  on  the  side  of  the   path.  The  fortifications  assert  a  diagonal  boundary,  cutting  into  the  depth  of  field.   The  paths,  which  occupy  the  entire  base  of  the  canvas   in  all   four   images,  extend   sharply   into   the   picture   plane,   radically   narrowing   to   highlight   the   deep   space   between  the  foreground  and  the  middle-­‐ground.  Similar  to  his  allotment  imagery,   the   paths   provide   the   egalitarian   point-­‐of-­‐view   of   a   fellow   commuter   whose   embodied  presence  gazes  down  to  the  footpath  before  him.  From  the  perspectives   of  the  path,  indications  of  both  the  banlieue  and  the  city  are  miniscule,  indicating   the  distance  between  Clichy  and  Montmartre  from  the  fortifications.  The  intransient   space   of   the   fortifications   is   a   route   of   the   working   class,   requiring   a   long   walk   between  working-­‐class  areas  on  either  side  of  the  border  that  transitions  through         190   the   walls   of   the   government.   The   working-­‐class   landscape   consists   of   the   built   structures  of  the  Second  Empire,  and  movement  guided  by  an  implied  sense  of  force   and  surveillance.             The  Banlieue   I  addressed  the  symbolic  nature  of  Van  Gogh’s  Factories  at  Clichy  (1887)  and   Factory  at  Clichy  (1887)  [figures  5  &  46]  in  chapter  three,  and  I  include  a  discussion   of   these   paintings   here   within   the   context   of   the   banlieue   to   highlight   the   connection   between   Van   Gogh’s   Montmartre   allotments   paintings   and   the   Clichy   industrial   environment   images.   Allotment   with   Sunflower   (1887)   [figure   47],   for   instance,  visually  connects  a  peasant  woman  to  the  industrialized  horizon  she  can   see  from  her  plot.  From  the  fence  that  bounds  her  small  allotment  garden,  she  looks   out  over  an  urban  sprawl  at  the  factories  that  appear  in  the  far  distance,  not  toward   the  towering  sunflower  in  the  foreground  she  herself  probably  nurtured.  Similarly,   Van   Gogh’s   factory   images   of   Clichy   address   the   role   of   products   in   the   lives   of   women   such   as   the   peasant   in   Allotment   with   Sunflower.   Although   her   allotment   provides  her  with  sustenance,  she  does  not  have  access  to  amenities  provided  by   the  coal-­‐dependent  factories  Van  Gogh  depicted   in  Clichy,  but  she   is  nonetheless   related  to  the  life  of  the  factory  through  lower-­‐class  labor.           191   The   highly   publicized   Decazeville   (located   in   south-­‐central   France)   coal-­‐ miner’s   strike   highlighted   the   disenfranchised   morale   of   the   working   poor.363  In   January   1886,   2,000   miners   frustrated   with   poor   pay   and   hazardous   conditions   stopped  working  and  protested.364  While  visiting  a  coal  mine  in  Marcasse  in  1879,   Van  Gogh  wrote  of  the  tension  between  laborers  and  management:  the  miners,  he   observed,   “have   a   festering   and   deep-­‐rooted   hatred   and   an   innate   distrust   of   anyone  who  tries  to  boss  them  around.”365  In  Decazeville,  the  distrust  grew  into  an                                                                                                                   363  Similar  to  an  uprising  of  coal  miners  in  Zola’s  Germinal  published  a  year  prior  in  1885,  the  protest   focused  on  the  desperate  lives  of  the  laborers.  Émile  Zola,  Germinal,  trans.  Havelock  Ellis  (Gloucester,   Massachusetts:  Doubleday  &  Company,  Inc.,  1968)  Chapter  V,  313-­‐326.  Led  by  Étienne  Lantier  (who   also  appeared  in  L’Assommoir),  a  mob  of  angry  miners  from  Marseillaise  marched  to  the  owner’s,   Hennebeau’s,  villa.  Shouting  “Bread!  bread!  bread!”  the  mob  surrounded  the  bourgeois  home.  During   the  mob’s  march,  the  republican  Négral  who  was  supposed  to  be  in  support  of  the  working  class,   remarked:  “Take  out  your  scent-­‐bottles,  the  sweat  of  the  people  is  passing  by!”  See  also  Halperin,   Félix  Fénéon:  Aesthete  &  Anarchist  in  Fin-­‐de-­‐Siècle  Paris  56.  Zola  based  the  strike  he  depicted  on  one   he  saw  first-­‐hand  at  the  Anzin  mine,  located  in  the  northern  France.  Van  Gogh  lowered  into  a  mine   shaft  and  was  involved  in  a  mine  explosion  while  living  in  the  Borinage;  he  thus  found  Zola’s  Germinal   inspirational  and  drew  miners  during  the  early  years  of  his  painting  practice.  Naifeh  and  Smith  194-­‐ 196  and  200-­‐201.  Théo  sent  Van  Gogh  Zola’s  Germinal,  which  Van  Gogh  received  and  began  reading   on  Thursday,  May  28,  1885  in  Nuenen.  In  letter  505,  Van  Gogh  wrote:  “I’ve  just  received  Germinal,   which  I  started  on  immediately.  I’ve  read  50  pages  of  it—which  I  think  splendid.  I  also  walked  there   once…If  all  goes  well—if  I  earn  rather  more  so  that  I  can  travel  more—well  then  I’ll  also,  I  hope,  paint   the  miners’  heads  sometime.”  In  letter  506,  which  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Théo,  on  Tuesday  June  2,  1885,   he  noted  that  Germinal  inspired  him  to  paint:  “…among  the  latter  you’ll  find  a  head  that  I  couldn’t   help  painting  after  reading  Germinal.”  In  letter  506,  he  also  paraphrased  passages  from  Germinal.   364  Jules  Guesde,  “Le  Cri  du  peuple  (February  1886),”  Le  Socialism  au  jour  le  jour  (Paris:  V.  Giard  et  E.   Brière,  1889)  in  Fortescue  40-­‐41.  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  155.  Derfier  48.     365  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  151  to  Théo  from  Wasmes  sometime  during  the  first  two  weeks  of  April   1879.  “This  mine  has  a  bad  name  because  many  die  in  it,  whether  going  down  or  coming  up,  or  by   suffocation   or   gas   exploding,   or   because   of   water   in   the   ground,   or   because   of   old   passageways   caving  in  and  so  on.  It’s  a  somber  place,  and  at  first  sight  everything  around  it  has  something  dismal   and  deathly  about  it.  The  workers  there  are  usually  people,  emaciated  and  pale  owing  to  fever,  who   look  exhausted  and  haggard,  weather-­‐beaten  and  prematurely  old,  the  women  generally  sallow  and   withered.  All  around  the  mine  are  poor  miners’  dwellings  with  a  couple  of  dead  trees,  completely         192   angry  rage.  The  miners  threw  the  manager  out  of  a  window  and  bludgeoned  him  to   death   when   he   hit   the   ground;   the   government   sent   troops   immediately.366  The   Chamber   of   Deputies   voted   in   favor   of   “maintaining   public   order,”   and   the   “bourgeois   political   parties   joined   together   and   found   themselves   united   against   the…working   class.” 367  The   government   financially   supported   the   coal-­‐mining   company  with  “reduced  transport  charges”  and  a  guaranteed  ten-­‐year  coal  order  for   the  railway—leaving,  in  the  words  of  POF  leader  Jules  Guesde,  “starvation  labor”  to   cry  “for  help  from  members  of  the  government,”  from  those  who  had  forced  the   working  classes  into  “bankruptcy.”368  The  strike  became  one  of  the  most  important   political   events   for   the   French   socialist   movement,   leading   to   a   labor   committee   within  the  Chamber  of  Deputies.369  The  strike  brought  together  socialists,  such  as   Signac,  from  around  the  country  to  financially  and  politically  support  the  worker’s                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               black   from   the   smoke,   and   thorn-­‐hedges,   dung-­‐heaps   and   rubbish   dumps,   mountains   of   unusable   coal....”   366  Derfier  48.  Berlanstein,  The  Working  People  of  Paris  174.  The  Decazeville  strike  was  national  news,   but   it   was   not   uncommon   for   workers   to   threaten   the   lives   of   the   managerial   staff   under   terse   working  conditions.  In  1887,  a  chemical  company  in  Saint-­‐Denis  (a  commune  northeast  of  Paris,  east   of   Clichy)   lowered   wages;   in   retaliation,   and   in   a   desperate   attempt   to   maintain   a   paycheck,   an   employee  shot  the  foreman  and  held  the  factory  under  siege  for  a  night.   367  Jules  Guesde,  Le  Cri  du  peuple  in  Fortescue  41.  Van  Gogh  arrived  in  Paris  in  early  February,  a  week   or  so  before  the  parliamentary  debate  regarding  the  Decazeville  strike.   368  Jules  Guesde,  Le  Cri  du  peuple  in  Fortescue  40-­‐41.   369  Derfier  48.         193   fight.370  At  this  time,  the  Paris  Gas  Company  built  the  Clichy  factory  between  1880   and   1881,   which   roasted   coal   to   make   gas.371  In   the   wake   of   the   strike,   PGC   developed  a  successful  marketing  strategy  and  gained  the  largest  domestic-­‐gas  sales   gross  in  the  company’s  history  offering  gaslights  and  gas  stoves  at  the  company’s   expense  to  those  living  in  upper-­‐class  arrondissements.372     While   in   The   Netherlands   and   Belgium,   Van   Gogh   addressed   new   factory   processes  and  drew  two  images  akin  to  those  of  the  coal-­‐dependent  Clichy  factories,   Coke  Factory  in  the  Borinage  (July-­‐August  1879)  and  the  gas  tanks  at  The  Municipal   Gasworks   in   Loosduinseweg   in   Gasworks,   The   Hague   (March   1882)   [figures   48   &   49].373  Compositionally,   Van   Gogh’s   Coke   Factory   in   the   Borinage   (coke   is   a   fuel   made  from  coal)  and  Gasworks,  The  Hague  reveals  views  of  a  coal-­‐factory  complex.   At  this  time,  Van  Gogh  visited  the  Marcasse  coal  mine  and  was   lowered   into  the   mine,   one   of   the   most   dangerous   “hidden…underworld[s],”   where   he   spent   six                                                                                                                   370  Signac  quoted  in  Ferretti-­‐Bocquillon  47.  Paul  Alexis  was  writing  under  the  pen  name,  Trubalt  for  Le   Cri   du   peuple,   a   newspaper.   In   the   wake   of   the   news,   Signac   wrote   that   he   would   support   the   naturalisse   and   the   workers   on   strike   in   Decazeville:   “My   dear   Trublot,   here   five   francs   for   the   naturalisse  subscription.  A  buck  is  not  much,  but  cobalt  blue  is  expensive.”  Paul  Alexis,  a  novelist  and   journalist   writing   under   the   pen   name   Trulbot,   published   part   of   the   letter   Signac   had   written   regarding  the  call  for  support  the  first  week  of  February  1886.  Signac  signed  the  letter  “Paul  Signac,   Impressionist,”  indicating  both  his  connection  to  socialism  and  to  his  trade  as  a  painter.     371  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  81.  PGC  built  another  new  plant  in  Saint-­‐Denis.   372  See  footnote  268  in  this  chapter.     373  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  280  to  Théo  from  The  Hague  on  Sunday,  November  5,  1882;  see  note  13.           194   hours   at   700   meters   below   ground. 374  He   observed   the   mine’s   hazardous   infrastructure,  a  system  the  company  left  in  disrepair,  and  noted  that  supplying  coal   affected  the  laborer’s  bodies.375  In  Coke  Factory  at  the  Borinage,  Van  Gogh  depicted   an   above-­‐ground   view   where   hundreds   of   workers   refined   the   product   in   the   “underground   prison.”376  Coke   Factory   of   the   Borinage   includes   one   small-­‐scale   worker  who  remains  above  ground,  but  the  chimneys  indicate  the  number  of  those   keeping  the  furnaces  burning.  Children,  horses,  men,  and  women  all  sank  below  the   earth,   lowering   down   in   a   cage,   mining   in   dark,   damp   caves   and   crevices.   In   Gasworks,  The  Hague,  men,  dwarfed  by  the  looming  tanks  and  smokestacks,  head   into  the  complex,  some  with  shovels  flung  over  their  shoulders.  Stokers,  those  who   fueled  the  furnaces  with  coal,  were  essential  laborers  in  the  factory  complex.377  The   stoker   symbolized   new   industry   standards   that   arose   due   to   gas   production:   the   stoker  did  not  complete  intricate  tasks  or  undergo  craftsman-­‐level  training,  but  he   did  perform  a  number  of  arduous  and  dangerous  skills  repetitively.   In  these  early                                                                                                                   374  Letter  151.     375  Letter  151.     376  Letter  151.  See  also  note  5:  Van  Gogh  painted  Coke  Factory  at  the  Borinage,  but  scholars  do  not   know  if  the  image  is  of  the  Marcasse  mine  the  artist  visited.     377  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  262-­‐291.  In  the  early  1880s,  the  stoker  was  a  prominent  laborer  in  a  gas   factory.  Some  factory  models,  such  as  the  gas  company,  did  not  have  an  artisanal  phase  supplanted   by  the  skilled  industrial  worker  because  the  gas  factory  developed  within  the  era  of  mechanization.   Most   importantly,   the   stoker   maintained   pressure   levels   (without   the   right   pressure   levels,   an   explosion   could   ensue)   and   spent   his   days   shoveling   coal   from   the   yard   and   into   the   sweltering   distillation  rooms  before  a  bank  of  furnaces.         195   depictions,  the  artist  did  not  invite  the  viewer  into  the  work  through  a  path.  Instead,   he  blocked  off  the  foreground  with  non-­‐descript  marks,  suggesting  that  he  did  not   aim  to  emphasize  the  lower  portion  of  the  canvas.  Overall,  these  images  take  the   view  of  a  distant  observer  and  offer  a  glimpse  into  the  life  of  a  factory  worker  amid   the  overwhelming  complex.     In   Paris,   the   images   challenge   descriptive   notions   to   unhinge   seemingly   serene  work  environments.  In  Factories  at  Clichy  [figure  5],  a  couple  observes  the   expanse  of  industry,  perhaps  inspired  by  the  large-­‐scale  PGC  complex,  on  a  leisurely   walk.   John   House   reads   the   painting   as   a   utopian   vision   of   industry,   leisure,   and   nature.378  Arguing  for  a  utopian  ideal  overlooks  the  Decazeville  miner’s  strike  and   the  remarks  Van  Gogh  made  while  visiting  the  Marcasse  mine.  I  consider  Factories  at   Clichy  within  the  socialist  agenda  of  factory-­‐worker  reform  and  the  development  of   PGC’s   Clichy   plant.   In   1855,   PGC   was   founded   during   the   Second   Empire. 379                                                                                                                   378  John  House,  “Towards  the  Modern  Landscape,”  Vincent  van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit   Boulevard,  ed.  Cornelia  Homburg  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum,  2001)  165-­‐166,  168.  House   addresses  Factories  of  Clichy,  a  painting  he  refers  to  as  Factories  at  Asnières,  Seen  from  the  Quai  de   Clichy.  First,  I  think  the  painting’s  subject  matter  is  located  in  Clichy,  not  Asnières.  Second,  House’s   interpretation  does  not  take  into  account  the  other  images  of  industry  Van  Gogh  painted  as  well  as   those   by   Bernard   and   Signac.   Although   House   begins   to   locate   the   image   within   the   anarchist   discourse  shared  by  painters  with  whom  Van  Gogh  worked  in  Paris,  namely  Camille  Pissarro,  I  find  his   approach  reductive.  On  the  facture  in  Factories  at  Clichy,  see  also:  James  H.  Rubin,  Impressionism  and   the   Modern   Landscape:   Productivity,   Technology,   and   Urbanization   from   Manet   to   Van   Gogh   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles,   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,   2008)   164-­‐165.   Rubin   locates   Factories  at  Clichy   in  Clichy,  and  briefly  asserts  that  the  image  suggests  Van  Gogh’s  interest  in  the   industrial  landscape  similar  to  his  contemporaries,  such  as  Pissarro.  Interestingly,  Rubin  observes  that   Van  Gogh’s  idiosyncratic  paint  texture  relates  to  artisanal  methods  and  a  Leftist  political  agenda.       379  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  13.         196   Restaurants  and  homes   in  the  wealthier  arrondissements  could   live  with  the  new   commodity  in  both  the  domestic  and  public  sphere,  but  the  cost  excluded  those  who   earned  a  laborer’s  wage.  In  Zola’s  Nana,  gaslights  metaphorically  reveal  the  greed   and  debauchery  of  the  bourgeoisie.380  The  propensity  of  gaslights  suggest  material   gain  and  literally  shine  light  on  the  aspects  of  upper-­‐class  Parisians  who  were  served   well  under  the  Second  Empire.381  By  1885,  PGC  had  grown  into  the  country’s  largest   manufacturing  company,  but  only  the  bourgeoisie  still  largely  utilized  gas-­‐powered   lights  and  stoves,  despite  claims  that  gas  was  in  “general”  use.382  Those  working  and   living  in  the  commune  would  not  have  been  able  to  afford  gas  in  their  homes.  In                                                                                                                   380  Zola,   Nana   1,   179.   Readers   meet   Zola’s   Nana   at   her   performance   in   the   fashionable   theater   Variétes,   where   “the   gas   jests   of   the   chandelier   were   turned   down   and   in   the   half   light”   and   the   ceiling’s   murals   had   been   “stained   green   by   gas   fumes.”   Gaslights   and   glass   literally   reflect   the   consumerism  of  Count  Muffat  of  Beuville,  one  of  Nana’s  bourgeois  clients,  as  he  strolls  along  Paris’   grand   boulevards   waiting   for   Nana:   “…Count   Muffat   was   walking   through   the   Passage   des   Panoramas…The  glass  roof  was  gleaming  with  bright  reflection  and  the  passage  was  ablaze  with  light   from   white   globes,   the   red   lamps,   the   blue   transparencies,   and   banks   of   flaring   gas-­‐jets   depicting   giant  watches  and  fans  flickering  in  the  air;  and  behind  the  clear  plate-­‐glass  shop  windows,  the  gaudy   displays,  the  gold  of  the  jewelers,  the  crystal  ware  of  the  confectioners  were  all  glittering  in  the  glare   of  the  reflectors….”   381  Zola,   Nana   181,   238.   Gaslights   signified   those   with   a   disposable   income   who   could   attend   the   theater  and  shop  in  fashionable  places—the  light  also  revealed  the  superficial  quality  of  the  “gaudy”   objects.  “To  light  up  the  entrance,”  Muffat  noticed  as  he  waited  by  Nana’s  stage  door,  “there  was   only  one  gas-­‐jet  in  a  frosted  globe.”  In  contrast,  as  Nana  returns  to  low-­‐class,  clandestine  prostitution   along  the  sleazy  backstreets  of  Montmartre,  the  streets  remained  “dark  and  deserted,”  as  “shadowy   female   figures”   walked   along   the   rue   Notre-­‐Dame-­‐de-­‐la-­‐Lorette   waiting   for   a   client.   To   find   light,   prostitutes  clamored  around  delicatessens  and  cafés,  “the  last  corner…which  stayed  alive  at  night.”   382  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  3-­‐4,  13,  15,  51-­‐52,  82.  When  PGC  began  providing  gas  to  daily  customers   in  September  of  1856,  they  served  about  1500  restaurants,  cafés,  bakeries  and  hotels;  the  number   increased  to  190,000  customers  by  1885.  Until  1894,  when  city  officials  pressured  PGC  to  make  the   resource  available  to  low-­‐income  households  and  renters,  only  a  small  fraction  of  the  employees  at   PGC  were  actually  able  to  afford  the  commodity.           197   1888,  less  than  1%  of  residents  in  Montmartre  had  gas  lighting.383  In  contrast,  23.7%   of   residents   in   the   eighth   arrondissement,   which   was   home   to   the   Avenue   des   Champs  Élysées,  used  gas  in  their  homes.384  Through  the  marketing  push  in  1887,   the  introduction  of  gas-­‐powered  light  in  interior  homes  changed  the  way  upper-­‐class   Parisians   lived   and   was   a   resource   that   divided   them   from   the   lower   classes.   Restaurants  and  homes  in  the  wealthier  arrondissements  had  the  new  commodity  in   both  the  domestic  and  public  spheres,  but  the  cost  excluded  those  who  earned  a   laborer’s  wage.     Edgar   Degas’   At   the   Café   Concert:   The   Song   of   the   Dog   (1875-­‐1877)   and   Édouard  Manet’s  A  Bar  at  the  Folies-­‐Bergère  (1882)  [figures  50  &  51]  show  how  gas-­‐ lights   illuminate   the   leisurely   evenings   of   the   upper-­‐classes.   In   1886,   the   Folies-­‐ Bergères   was   one   of   the   top   twenty   customers   of   PGC.385  Manet   depicted   a   sparkling   gaslight   chandelier   hanging   from   the   ceiling   and   round   electric   lights   flanking  the  waitress’s  head.  That  the  Bar  at  the  Folies-­‐Bergère  could  support  two   light   sources   is   in   stark   contrast   to   those   who   could   yet   afford   gaslights.   Unlike   Degas   and   Manet   who   convey   glittering   nightlight   and   the   relationship   between                                                                                                                   383  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  3-­‐4,  13,  21,  table  3.   384  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  21,  table  3.     385  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  19,  table  2.             198   leisure   and   industry,   Van   Gogh   addressed   the   working-­‐class   areas   that   provided   goods.   He   emphasized   the   discord   between   those   who   labored   to   provide   from   those  who  partook.  In  Factories  of  Clichy,  the  couple  serves  as  surrogate  viewers,   inviting   the   spectator   to   consider   the   great   efforts   of   labor   occurring   below   the   smokestacks.  Similar  to  Coke  Factory  of  the  Borinage,  the  workers  are  concealed,   signified  only  by  the  smoke  pouring  out  of  the  stacks  they  stoke  to  keep  burning.  As   they   keep   the   factories   functioning,   the   couple   stands   in   a   field   comprised   of   gestural   brushwork.   The   fence   figuratively   excludes   the   idiosyncratic   expressive   brushwork  from  the  industrial  commune,  suggesting  the  separation  of  nature  and   industry;  as  noted  previously,  the  indication  of  wind  connects  the  two  spheres.     When  the  gas  industry  developed  and  gas-­‐lights  began  lining  the  streets  of   Paris   or   hanging   above   the   dinner   tables   of   the   upper-­‐classes,   there   was   a   new   demand  for  glass  to  house  the  flames.  386  To  meet  demands,  there  were  three  glass   factories  in  Clichy.  The  building  in  Factory  at  Clichy  is  the  Pont  de  Clichy,  Glasshouse,   which  was  built  in  1845,  in  operation  until  1917,  and  located  under  the  bridge  from   Clichy  to  Asnières  immediately  to  the  west  of  the  gas-­‐factory  complex  [figure  52].387                                                                                                                   386  Jim  Friant,  “Van  Gogh  Painting  Shows  a  Glasshouse,”  The  Glass  Club  Bulletin  (Fall/Winter  2008):   21-­‐23.  See  also:  Julien  Turgan,  Les  grandes  usines:  etudes  industrielles  en  France  et  a  l’étranger,  vol.   12  (Paris:  Calman  Lévy,  Libraire-­‐Éditeur,  1879)  239.  http://cnum.cnam.fr/CGI/redire.cgi?4KY15.  Cette   industrie  produit  annuellement  pour  105  million  de  francs  d’objets  fabriqués.  Son  exportation  est  de   35  millions.  Son  exportation  est  de  35  millions  (In  the  1870s,  the  glass  industry  as  a  whole  generated   105  million  objects  annually  and  exported  35  million).  For  more  in  Turgan,  see  Rubin,  chapter  5.     387  Friant  21.           199   Factory  at  Clichy  includes  both  an  outdated  wooden  glass  house  on  the  left  and  a   newer  brick  and  iron  building  in  the  center.  The  smokestacks  are  also  brick,  which   indicates   that   parts   of   the   factory   are   older   since   newer   factories   included   metal   smokestacks.  Analogous  to  his  peasant   images  of  the  Butte,  Van  Gogh  included  a   traditionally  functioning  glass  house  and  the  contemporary  changes  to  the  system,   juxtaposing   both   the   artisanal   and   manufacturing   production   of   glass. 388  The   monochromatic  figure  on  the  path  and  the  two  barely  discernable  figures  on  the   glass   heap   to   the   left   are   similar   to   the   small-­‐scale   farmers   who   are   pictorially   entangled  in  the  factory  environment  providing  a  product  to  which  few  in  the  area   had  access.       In  both  Factories  at  Clichy  and  Factory  at  Clichy,  Van  Gogh  emphasized  the   emissions   wafting   into   the   atmosphere   above   Clichy,   symbolizing   the   labor   happening  within  the  factories.  Foul  odor  due  to  industry  and  waste  indicated  an   unhealthy   environment   and   those   who   could   afford   to,   lived   further   away   from   cesspools   or   a   concentration   of   factories.   In   1886,   Louis   Barron,   author   of   Les   Environs  de  Paris  (1886),  aimed  to  attract  people  to  Asnières  and  noted  that  Clichy   was  a  “collector  sewer”  of  the  Seine  and  to  not  “fear  the  odors”  coming  from  Clichy,                                                                                                                   388  According  to  Friant,  there  are  a  number  of  annealing  (cooling)  ovens  held  in  the  sheds  adjacent  to   the   main   structures,   indicating   that   the   factory’s   products   would   have   varied.   Glassware   was   transported  in  crates,  similar  to  the  wooden  crate  on  the  left.  Heaps  of  broken  vessels  piled  around   the  factory’s  grounds,  such  as  the  vase-­‐like  vessel  that  appears  on  the  ground  on  the  left.             200   those  “full  of  coal  dust  spread  by  workers  unloading  barges,  bordered  by  factories   covered  by  soot…”389  To  emphasize  the  smog,  Van  Gogh  constructed  the  perspective   in   Factories   of   Clichy   from   above,   which   is   similar   to   the   perspective   found   in   Constable’s  landscape  images.  Unlike  Factory  at  Clichy  and  the  allotment  images  in   which  the  path  is  a  central  compositional  element  fostering  a  sympathetic  view  of   the   laborer,   Van   Gogh   did   not   include   a   path   in   Factories   in   Clichy.   Instead,   he   created  a  hierarchical  perspective  over  the  grasslands  and  the  never-­‐ending  horizon   of  factories.  The  artist  problematized  the  utopic  ideal  of  a  landowner’s  prideful  view.   The  vantage  point  serves  to  emphasize  the  unpleasant  effects  of  industry,  and  the   less-­‐than   ideal   environment   of   those   working   in   Clichy.   The   couple   views   an   industrial  landscape  literally  produced  at  the  expense  of  the  laborer’s  body  and  life.   In  Van  Gogh’s  landscape,  the  worker  creates  the  horizon,  not  nature,  and  thus  the   couple’s  point-­‐of-­‐view  acknowledges  the  labor  of  those  who  mine  and  stoke  amid  a   complicated  time  of  industrial  progress  in  gas  and  protest  against  coal  companies,   and  during  reform  measures  for  the  labor  class  in  a  socialist  commune.                                                                                                                     389  Louis  Barron  quoted  in  Rubin  87-­‐88.  See  also:  Barrie  M.  Ratcliff,  “Cities  and  environmental  decline:   elites   and   the   sewage   problem   in   Paris   from   the   mid-­‐eighteenth   to   the   mid-­‐nineteenth   century,”   International   Planning   History   5   (1990):   190.   Parisians   related   unpleasant   smells   as   a   danger   to   public-­‐health.  Parisians  connected  odor  as  a  sign  of  pollution  since  the  beginning  of  the  nineteenth   century   when   city   officials   began   planning   to   move   the   sewer   system   outside   the   city   limits   to   eliminate  the  smell  of  decaying  waste.           201   A   decade   prior,   Claude   Monet   painted   Men   Unloading   Coal   (1873-­‐1875)   [figure  53]  from  the  base  of  the  bridge  from  Clichy  to  Asniéres.390  Shadowy  figures   walk  up  and  down  planks  unloading  coal  onto  the  banks  of  Clichy.  Marching  up  to   the  docks  and  back  to  the  barge,  they  work  under  overcast  skies  and  before  Clichy’s   landscape  of  factory  chimneys.  Monet  literally  framed  the  figures  with  industry:  the   bridge,  line  of  barges,  smokestacks,  and  planks  surround  the  workers  who,  trapped   in  a  world  of  industry,  laboriously  unload  coal.  In  the  mid-­‐1880s,  PGC  transported   coal  by  barge  on  the  Seine  as  well,  but  cranes  over  the  river  hauled  the  resource  into   the  factory  complex.  From  the  point-­‐of-­‐view  of  the  same  Bridge  of  Asnières,  where   Van  Gogh  and  Bernard  sat  along  the  banks  of  the  Seine  [figure  54],  they  painted  the   river,  with  the  newly  built  smokestacks  of  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy  in  the  background.   Van  Gogh’s  Le  Pont  à  Asnières  (summer  1887)  [figure  55]  shows  the  bridge  reaching   out   across   the   Seine,   south-­‐west   towards   Clichy.391  Three   boaters   maneuver   the   Seine’s   waters;   the   factory   punctuates   the   landscape   generating   the   gas   flaming   within  the  lighting  fixtures  installed  across  the  bridge.  At  the  foot  of  the  bridge  on   the  banks  of  Clichy,  a  circular  form  rises  in  the  far  left  side,  emulating  the  scaffold   shape  surrounding  the  gas  tanks,  similar  to  those  Signac  depicted  in  The  Gas  Tanks   at   Clichy   (1886)   [figure   56].   In   Le   Pont   d’Asnières,   the   bridge,   lined   with   glass-­‐                                                                                                                 390  Rubin  88-­‐89.     391  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  42.           202   covered  gaslights,  pictorially  connects  to  the  company  that  provided  the  resource  to   light  the  bridge.     On   the   same   bridge,   Bernard   depicted   Vue   du   pont   d’Asnières   (late   1887)   [figure  57],  a  scene  from  the  top  of  the  bridge  that  explicitly  connects  the  emissions   rising  from  L’Usine  à  gaz  and  the  pollution  seeping  into  the  Seine.  By  mid-­‐century,   the  Seine  had  become  a  polluted  river  due  to  industrial  dumping.392    The  byproducts   of  refining  coal  to  gas  were  an  essential  economic  development  in  the  success  of   PGC.  393  Chemical  manufacturers  purchased  ammonia  water,  for   instance,  but  PGC   dumped  much  of  into  the  Seine.  In  Bernard’s  image,  two  barges  appear:  an  empty   barge  moving  away  from  the  factory  that  was  just  unloaded,  and  another  docked   alongside   the   cranes   waiting   to   be   emptied.   Smoke   calligraphically   swirls   south   toward  Clichy  and  its  inhabitants  as  the  current  moves  south-­‐east  carrying  a  tide  in  a   color  and  form  that  relates  to  the  chimney’s  plumes,  indicating  the  direct  effect  of   industry   on   the   waterway.   Although   the   two   lower-­‐class   women   occupy   the   foreground  as  they  traverse  the  bridge  from  Clichy  to  Asnières,  the  coal  barge  floats   in   the   Seine   in   the   center   point   of   the   picture   plane,   emphasizing   the   barge’s                                                                                                                   392  Ratcliff  200-­‐201.   393  Berlanstein,  Big  Business  138-­‐139.  Organic  dye,  an  industry  that  developed  alongside  that  of  the   gas,  used  coal  tar.  The  artificial  dye  company  also  developed  during  mid-­‐century,  making  use  of  PGC’s   aniline,  a  byproduct  created  by  refining  the  coal-­‐tar  itself.  In  the  early  years  of  PGC  much  of  the  tar   was   thrown   away.   Ammonia   water,   for   example,   was   a   byproduct   derived   during   coal’s   purifying   process.         203   prominence  in  the  day-­‐to-­‐day  life  on  Seine  in  Clichy.  Similarly,  Signac  depicted  the   cranes  of  the  L’Usine  à  gaz  from  both  the  banks  of  Asnières  and  Clichy  in  Asnières,   Ponton  et  Grues  (1885)  and  Quai  de  Clichy.  Temps  Gris  (1887).394  His  images  depict   the  Seine  as  an  expanse  of  water,  the  cranes  of  L’Usine  à  gaz  lurching  over  its  banks.   From   the   Asnières   side,   chimneys   rise   up   from   Clichy’s   factory   complex   in   the   background,  and,  from  the  Clichy  banks,  Asnières’s  tree-­‐lined  banks  extend  into  the   horizon.   Through  motifs  of  the  Seine,  smokestacks,  cranes  and  gaslights,  Van  Gogh,   Bernard,  and  Signac  emphasized  the  company’s  pervasive  infrastructure  within  the   lives   of   the   laborer   and   the   residents   of   Clichy.   Van   Gogh’s   particular   ability   to   visually  make  connections  between  old  and  new,  gas  and  glass  products,  labor  and   class,   indicate   that   the   landscape   of   Clichy   symbolized   the   shifting   needs   of   a   metropolis.   As   a   production-­‐focused   commune,   Clichy   was   home   to   the   working-­‐ class   laborers   during   a   time   of   strife.   Van   Gogh,   Bernard,   and   Signac’s   respective   approaches  contrast  Pissarro’s  Pontoise  landscapes.  Pontoise  was  historically  a  rural   area,   but   when   Pissarro   arrived   in   1866,   it   was   becoming   an   industrial   area.  395   Located   45   minutes   by   train   from   Paris,   Pontoise’s   agricultural   terrain   had                                                                                                                   394  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  200  and  298.  Unfortunately,  Signac’s  images  are  not  available   in  color  and  are  held  in  private  collections.     395  Richard   Brettell,   “Pissarro,   Cézanne   and   the   School   of   Pontoise,”   A   Day   in   the   Country:   Impressionism   and   the   French   Landscape  (New   York,   New   York:   Harry   N.   Abrams,   Inc.,   Publishers,   1984)  175.           204   modernized  to  provide  an  array  of  produce  to  the  Parisian  market,  and  sugar  and   paint   factories   had   supplanted   some   of   the   pastoral   areas   along   the   Oise   River,   which   was   dredged   to   transport   goods   via   the   Seine   to   the   capital.   Pissarro’s   Pontoise   imagery   rarely   included   signs   of   industry.396  Instead,   Pissarro   aimed   to   study   the   village-­‐like   character   of   this   once   rural   town.   Pissarro’s   Factories   near   Pontoise  (1873)  [figure  58]  is  an  example,  but  the  Seine  and  surrounding  greenery   remains  untouched  by  the  effects  of  industry.  Van  Gogh,  Bernard,  and  Signac,  did   not  include  a  factory  within  a  landscape.  Instead,  the  painters  used  the  factory  to   shape  the  industrial  horizon,  and  underpin  the  environment  on  the  Seine  in  Clichy.     Conclusion   While   Van   Gogh’s   imagery   of   the   Butte   maintained   a   rural   depiction   of   Montmartre,  the  segmented  plots  relate  to  the  contemporary  debates  of  land  issues   among  socialists.  Van  Gogh’s  industrial  images  of  the  banlieue  propose  connections   among   issues   surrounding   labor,   class,   and   environment.   Rather   than   depict   a   straight-­‐forward   image   of   back-­‐breaking   labor,   he   provided   the   experience   of   walking   through   allotments,   fortifications,   and   glass   factories.   By   drawing   associations   among   industries,   such   as   coal,   gas,   and   glass,   Van   Gogh   aimed   to   depict   the   lived   experience   of   a   working-­‐class   observer,   one   walking   through   the                                                                                                                   396  Brettell  179.           205   Commune  or  working  there.  An  upper-­‐class  spectator  may  witness  the  fashionable   cafés   Manet   depicted,   but   Van   Gogh   provided   a   lower-­‐class   lens,   enabling   the   viewer  to  consider  a  laborer’s  perspective.   Montmartre:   Windmills   and   Allotments,   Vegetable   Gardens,   Factories   at   Clichy,  and  Factory  at  Clichy  represent  adjacent  areas  on  either  side  of  Paris’s  border   that  deliver  products  to  the  city’s  center.  Through  this  imagery,  Van  Gogh  created   connections  among  the  agricultural,  gas,  and  glass   industries,  and  depicted  small-­‐ scale  figures  enmeshed  within  the  rapidly  changing  environment  on  the  periphery  of   the   capital.   Van   Gogh’s   images   complicate   traditional   paintings   of   farming   and   factory   work   by   indicating   that   agricultural   and   factory   processes   were   changing   rapidly   during   the   1880s.   Living   in   Montmartre,   an   arrondissement   rich   with   an   artistic  culture,  Van  Gogh  sought  out  the  rural,  labor-­‐intensive  aspects  that  shaped   the   modern   landscape.   The   artist   preserved   artisanal   methods   of   agricultural   and   industrial   production,   included   new   factory   practices,   and   considered   the   nineteenth-­‐century   laborer   as   a   figure   sequestered   within   his   or   her   respective   realm.   Between   foreshortened   perspective   and   suggestive   color,   the   paintings   symbolically   convey   the   experience   of   a   working-­‐class   person.   The   viewer   is   not   necessarily  looking  at  images  of  work  but  through  the  lens  of  peasants  in  a  field,  a   couple  in  the  banlieue,  or  a  factory  worker  in  his  complex.  The  relationship  between   the  landscape  and  the  peasants  and  factory  workers  shows  that  they  exist  within  a         206   cycle  of  supply  and  demand  that  absorbs  them  into  the  landscape  and  keeps  them   connected   to   the   city   through   their   physical   labor   or   the   commodity   their   work   provides.  For  Van  Gogh,  labor  shaped  the  modern  landscape.                                             207   CHAPTER  5:  SYMBOLISM  IN  PARIS     “I  am  leaving  tomorrow,”  Van  Gogh  told  Bernard  on  the  eve  of  his  departure   from  Paris,  “[and]  we  must  arrange  the  apartment  so  that  my  brother  will  feel  that  I   am   still   with   him.”397  In   the   rue   Lepic   apartment,   Van   Gogh   and   Bernard   hung   Japanese  prints  on  the  walls,  placed  some  of  Van  Gogh’s  paintings  on  easels,  and  left   a  stack  of  canvases.  The  friends  walked  through  Montmartre  and  shook  hands  on   the  Boulevard  de  Clichy—the  petit  boulevard  as  Van  Gogh  called  it—and  that  was   the  last  time  they  saw  each  other.  Almost  two  years  since  coming  to  Paris,  Van  Gogh   left  on  February  19th,  1888,  and  arrived  in  Arles  two  days  later.   Van  Gogh  moved  south  because  Paris  had  become  overwhelming  for  him.   Théo,  too,  felt  the  strain  of  their  living  arrangement.398  The  painter  hoped  to  build   the   artist   collective   that   he   had   been   trying   to   foster   through   the   exhibitions   he   arranged   in   Paris,   and   thought   that   Arles   would   be   conducive   to   his   community-­‐                                                                                                                 397  Van  Gogh  quoted  in  Émile  Bernard,  “Preface  to  the  Letters  of  Bernard,”  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective,   ed.  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov  (Englewood  Cliffs,  New  Jersey:  Prentice  Hall,  Inc.,  1974)  40-­‐41.     398  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  577  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Tuesday,  February  21,  1888.  “It  seems  to  me   almost  impossible  to  be  able  to  work  in  Paris,  unless  you  have  a  refuge  in  which  to  recover  and  regain   your  peace  of  mind  and  self-­‐composure.  Without  that,  you’d  be  bound  to  get  utterly  numbed.”  On   the  date  of  his  departure,  see  note  1.  Théo  wrote  letter  FR  b908  to  Willemien  from  Paris  on  March   14,   1887   (http://vangoghletters.org/vg/documentation.html).   At   this   point,   Théo   was   certain   that   Vincent  would  eventually  sell  his  canvases,  and  he  wanted  to  support  his  brother  financially.  Living   together  posed  some  inter-­‐personal  problems  between  the  brothers.  Théo  wrote  to  Wil  that  Vincent   was  messy  and  argued  with  guests.  Théo  did  not  enjoy  living  with  his  brother  and  wanted  him  to  find   a  place  to  live  on  his  own,  which  would  take  another  year.             208   minded  goals.  Van  Gogh  felt,  in  Bernard’s  words,  that  “it  is  in  the  south  of  France   that  it  is  now  necessary  to  found  the  artists’  workshop  of  the  future.”399  Van  Gogh   also  sought  the  brighter,  richer  colors  of  the  terrain  of  southern  France,  which  would   allow  him  to  generate  the  saturated  hues  that  were,  according  to  him,   in  market   demand.400  Living  alone  during  his  first  summer  in  Arles,  Van  Gogh  produced  some   of   the   most   captivating   works   of   his   painting   career,   such   as   Sower   (June   1888),   Fourteen  Sunflowers  in  a  Vase  (August  1888),  Terrace  of  a  Café  at  Night  (September   1888)   and   The   Night   Café   (September   1888)   [figures   1-­‐4].   Through   the   subject   matter   of   a   biblical   figure   inspired   by   Jean-­‐François   Millet,   a   flower   still-­‐life,   and   modern   night-­‐life,   Van   Gogh   developed   a   unique   painterly   voice.   He   created   contrasts   between   lush,   intense   colors—Prussian   blue,   chrome   yellow,   emerald   green,   vermilion   red,   orange   lead401 —and   painted   with   controlled,   yet   highly   expressive,  layered  brushwork.     Scholars  typically mark  Van  Gogh’s  shift  to  a  Symbolist  aesthetic  in  the  visual   arts   during   the   early   Arlesian   period.   Deborah   Silverman   argues   that   Van   Gogh’s                                                                                                                   399  Van  Gogh  quoted  in  Bernard,  “Preface  to  the  Letters  of  Bernard,”  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  41.   400  Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   579   to   Wil   from   Arles   on   February   24,   1888.   “You   see   that   I’ve   gone   somewhat  further  to  the  south—I’ve  seen  only  too  clearly  that  I  cannot  prosper  with  either  my  work   or  my  health  in  the  winter—moreover,  nowadays  people  are  demanding  colour  contrasts  and  highly   intense  and  variegated  colours  in  paintings  rather  than  a  subdued  grey  colour.  So  I  thought  for  one   reason  and  another  that  I  wouldn’t  do  anyone  any  harm  if  I  just  went  to  what  attracted  me.”   401  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  593  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Thursday,  April  5,  1888.             209   Sower,  painted  during  his  first  summer  in  Arles,   indicates  this  transition.402  Sower,   Silverman  notes,  conveys  powerful  color  and  animated  brushwork  to  express  what   could  be  an  explicit  parable  figure  in  a  specific  location,  in  a  universal  way.  Van  Gogh   moved   away   from   a   realistic   story-­‐telling   agenda—which   he   employed   in,   for   example,  The  Potato  Eaters  (1885)  [figure  5]—and  considered  the  ways  in  which  the   painterly   components   engage   the   spectator’s   senses.   Van   Gogh’s   reliance   on   intensified  color  and  indirect  references  to  foster  viewer  participation  suggests  that   the   painter   recognized   the   canvas’s   ability   to   provide   the   viewer   an   imaginative   experience.  For  Silverman,  this  experience  is  spiritual.           Recognizing  an  imaginative  escape  depends  upon  perceiving  the  world  in  two   realms.  This  perspective  is  based  on  critic  and  poet  Charles  Baudelaire’s  The  Painter   of  Modern  Life  (1863)  in  which  he  defined  Beauty  in  two  components:  the  material   world  and  an  eternal  world  that  exists  beyond  the  tangible.403  An  imaginative  escape   before  a  work  of  art  allows  the  spectator  to  become  free  from  the  material  world’s   restraints—monotony,  banality,  or  bourgeois  attitudes—and  experience  an  eternal,   invisible   realm   beyond   the   transitory.   Privileging   the   canvas’s   effect   on   the                                                                                                                   402  Deborah  Silverman,  Van  Gogh  and  Gauguin:  The  Search  for  the  Sacred  in  Art  (New  York,  New  York:   Farrar,  Straus  and  Giroux,  2000)  49-­‐50,  78-­‐90.  See  also:  Toos  van  Kooten  and  Mieke  Rijnders,  eds.  The   Paintings  of  Vincent  van  Gogh  in  the  Collection  of  the  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum  (Otterlo:  Kröller-­‐Müller   Museum,  2003)  233-­‐237.  In  Paris,  the  École  des  Beaux-­‐Arts  held  a  Millet  exhibition  in  spring  1887.     403  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Painter  of  Modern  Life,”  The  Painter  of  Modern  Life  and  Other  Essays,   trans.  and  ed.  Jonathan  Mayne  (London  and  New  York:  Phaidon  Press  Limited,  2001)  3.         210   spectator’s  senses  is  a  foundational  aspect  of  Symbolist  theory  and  a  principle  found   in   the   work   of   Baudelaire   and   the   critics   and   poets   he   influenced,   namely   Impressionist  critic  Stéphane  Mallarmé,  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  critic  Félix  Fénéon.   Mallarmé’s  and  Fénéon’s  assertions  built  on  those  of  Baudelaire  as  the  critics  argued   that  the  picture  plane  is  a  means  to  a  unique  experience  standing  before  the  canvas.   Baudelaire’s  influence  also  affected  the  perspective  of  G.-­‐Albert  Aurier,  who  in  1890   was  the  first  critic  to  write  about  Van  Gogh’s  work  and  locate  the  artist  within  the   Symbolist  aesthetic.  In  “Les  isolés—Vincent  van  Gogh,”  Aurier  articulated  how  Van   Gogh’s  paintings,  namely  Sower  and  Starry  Night  (1889)  [figure  6],  ignited  the  critic’s   imagination  and  led  his  mind  on  an  intense  journey.404     I  find  that  the  Symbolist  aspects  extolled  by  Aurier  and  those  that  Silverman   points  out  in  Sower  that  lead  to  such  an  escape  are  also  at  work  in  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐ period  canvases,  such  as  in  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  (spring  1887),  Patch  of  Grass   (April-­‐June  1887),  Path  in  the  Woods  (May-­‐July  1887),  Exterior  of  a  Restaurant  at   Asnières  (summer  1887),  and  The  Restaurant  de  la  Sirène,  Asnières  (summer  1887)                                                                                                                   404  Sjraar  van  Heugten,  Joachim  Pissarro,  and  Chris  Stolwijk,  Eds.  Van  Gogh  and  the  Colors  of  the  Night   (The   Museum   of   Modern   Art   and   the   Van   Gogh   Museum,   2008)   17,   80-­‐85.   Artists   who   depicted   imagery  at  night  needed  to  rely  on  their  imaginations  to  do  so.  Sjraar  notes  that  Van  Gogh  did  not  use   an  under-­‐drawing  to  compose  Starry  Night  and  painted  directly  onto  the  canvas.  He  also  argues  that   Van  Gogh  did  not  have  an  “understanding  of  color  theories”  and  that  they  remained  “beyond   his   grasp”  (81).  I  will  argue  that  the  color  theories  at  work  in  Starry  Night  can  be  found  in  some  of  Van   Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  imagery.           211   [figures  7-­‐10].  In  these  canvases,  there  is  a  suggested  meaning  veiled  in  high-­‐keyed   color   and   forceful   brushwork.   I   contend   that   the   Symbolist   compositional   devices   Robert  Goldwater  deems  “nascent”  in  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  paintings  are  more   overt  than  has  been  previously  discussed.405  In  Goldwater’s  terms,  Symbolist  artists   saw  emotional  ideas  as  a  priority,  making  the  subject  matter  secondary  to  a  means   that   could   acknowledge   a   greater,   mind-­‐altering   goal.  406  The   subject   matter,   in   some  sense,  is  a  vehicle  by  which  the  formal  qualities  convey  something  other  than   a  theme  related  to  the  subject  itself.  For  instance,  in  The  Potato  Eaters,  Van  Gogh   depicted  the  figures  in  an  umber  hue  similar  to  the  color  of  dirt  to  make  an  analogy   between  the  earth-­‐colored  complexions  of  the  peasants  and  the  ways  in  which  they   sustain   their   family   through   a   potato   harvest. 407  To   paint   within   a   Symbolist   aesthetic   was   a   condition   of   the   mind,   a   perception   that   recognized   the   world’s   duality   and   the   ways   in   which   an   imaginatively   generated   canvas   could   lead   the   spectator  to  an  eternal,  universal  state  of  mind.  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  canvases,                                                                                                                   405  Robert  Goldwater,  Symbolism  (Boulder,  Colorado:  Westview  Press,  1979)  127-­‐129.   406  Goldwater  7.   407  Van  Gogh  wrote  Théo  letter  499  from  Nuenen  on  May  2,  1885.  “Now  the  flesh  tones—I  know  that   on  a  superficial  examination,  that  is  if  you  don’t  think  it  through,  they  look  like  what  people  call  flesh   color.  I  did  paint  them  that  way  at  the  beginning  of  the  painting—some  yellow  ochre,  red  ochre  and   white,  for  example.  But  that  was  much  too  light  and  certainly  didn’t  do.  What  was  to  be  done?—I  had   finished  all  the  heads  and  even  finished  them  with  great  care—but  I  quickly  repainted  them  without   mercy,   and   the   color   they’re   painted   now   is   something   like   the   color   of   a   really   dusty   potato,   unpeeled  of  course.”           212   particularly   his   landscapes,   show   the   painter’s   Symbolist   attitude   toward   an   expressive  painterly  vernacular  that  privileged  meaning  through  color  and  form.  Van   Gogh’s   depiction   of   park   scenes,   for   instance,   indicates   his   reconsideration   of   a   subject   as   it   lends   itself   to   painterly   exaggeration.   Unlike   The   Potato   Eaters,   the   Paris-­‐period   paintings   do   not   rely   on   color   and   texture   to   clarify   subtext—the   painter’s  tools,  such  as  brushes,  oil  paints,  and  hue,  suggest  meaning  aside  from  that   of  the  scene  at  hand.  In  some  of  the  Paris-­‐period  canvases,  hue  and  texture  convey   metaphors  of  the  relationship  among  a  painter’s  work,  experience  before  nature,   and  imaginative  translation  of  the  material  world.     Moreover,  the  art-­‐historical  narrative  Goldwater  and  Naomi  Margolis  Mauer   develop   to   explain   Van   Gogh’s   exposure   to   Symbolist   theory   begins   with   Paul   Gauguin’s  visit  to  Arles  between  October  and  December  1888.  408  They  conclude  that   during   this   two-­‐month   period,   the   French   painter   imparted   Symbolist   tenets,   notably  depending  on  the  artist’s  imagination  rather  than  the  scene  before  him  to   craft  an   image.  Connecting  Van  Gogh’s  engagement  with  Symbolism  to  Gauguin’s                                                                                                                   408  Naomi  Margolis  Mauer,  The  Pursuit  of  Spiritual  Wisdom:  The  Thought  and  Art  of  Vincent  van  Gogh   and  Paul  Gauguin  (Madison  and  Teaneck:  Fairleigh  Dickinson  University  Press,  1998)  79-­‐88.  Using  a   quotation  from  Gauguin’s  journal,  Mauer  notes  that  Gauguin  felt  he  taught  Van  Gogh  to  paint  from   his  imagination.  Mauer  underscores  that  we  have  no  way  of  knowing  if  Van  Gogh  would  agree,  and   continues  to  argue  that  “it   is   indeed  clear  that  under  [Gauguin’s]  encouragement  Vincent  made  a   brief   foray   into   painting   from   imagination   instead   of   from   the   scenes   around   him.”   See   also:   Goldwater  128.             213   visit   solely   omits   significant   painterly   ideals   that   Van   Gogh   had   begun   in   The   Netherlands   and   developed   in   Paris.   While   painting   from   memory   to   attain   a   likeness  and  drafting  from  the  imagination  are  different  painterly  approaches,  Van   Gogh  began  depending  on  his  memory  when  sketching  for  The  Potato  Eaters,  which   led  to  his  ability  to  rely  on  his  inner  mind’s  esoteric  ideas  in  Paris.409  Depending  on   memory  to  create  allowed  the  artist  to  have  an  energetic  spell,  and,  in  Baudelaire’s   words,   to   experience   “a   fire,   an   intoxication   of   the   pencil   or   brush,   amounting   almost  to  a  frenzy…ideal  execution,  may  become  as  unconscious  and  spontaneous   as  digestion….”410  Drawing  from  memory  unfettered  Van  Gogh’s  mind  and  freed  him   from  wondering  if  he  was  achieving  a  likeness  or  hesitating  before  the  canvas.     Although  Symbolist  aesthetics   in  Van  Gogh’s  painting  practice  did  not  fully   culminate  until  the  summer  of  1888,  constructing  Gauguin  as  a  mythical  sage  and   Van  Gogh  as  a  receptor  circumvents  Van  Gogh’s  Paris-­‐period  works  that  lead  from   the  palette  and  paint  application  of  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  canvases.   Van  Gogh’s  paintings  include  the  avant-­‐garde  compositional  strategies  that  set  his   painting  practice  on  a  Symbolist  course.  Gauguin  was  somewhat  absent  when  Van                                                                                                                   409  Mark   A.   Cheetham,   “Mystical   Memories:   Gauguin’s   Neoplatonism   and   ‘Abstraction’   in   Late-­‐ Nineteenth-­‐Century  French  Painting,”  Art  Journal  46,  no.  1  (Spring,  1987):  15-­‐21.  Cheetham  attributes   Gauguin’s  move  toward  abstraction  in  1888  to  the  importance  the  artist  placed  on  memory.  For  a   discussion  of  Baudelaire’s  ideas  on  memory  in  his  1846  Salon  see:  Michael  Fried,  “Painting  Memories:   On  the  Containment  of  the  Past  in  Baudelaire  and  Manet,”  Critical  Inquiry  10  no.  3  (March,  1984):   510-­‐542.   410  Baudelaire,  “The  Painter  of  Modern  Life”  17.         214   Gogh   lived   in   Paris.411  Overall,   Gauguin   was   in   Paris   for   about   ten   months   when   Vincent   lived   there,   and,   although   Gauguin   had   been   dealing   with   Théo,   the   two   painters  met  only  briefly.  During  Gauguin’s  last  trip  to  Pont-­‐Aven,  Gauguin  painted   Vision   After   the   Sermon   (1888)   [figure   11],   considered   one   of   his   first   Symbolist   works,  around  the  same  time  Van  Gogh  was  also  making  his  foray  into  a  Symbolist   aesthetic  in  paintings  such  as  Sower.412     After   leaving  the  capital,  Van  Gogh’s   letter  writing  began  at  a  steady  pace   again.   The   painter   was   living   far   away   from   his   brother   who   financially   and   professionally  supported  him.  Van  Gogh  also  continued  to  discuss  art  and  painting   with  Bernard,  an  extension  of  the  conversations  that  had  perhaps  begun  in  Paris.   The  letters  Vincent  wrote  to  Théo  and  Bernard  regarding  his  painting  practice  from   his   first   summer   in   Arles   reveal   some   of   the   Symbolist   ideals   that   draw   from   Baudelaire’s  objectives,  notably:  drawing  from  nature  but  transforming  the  image   through   medium   and   using   his   imagination   to   convey   a   compositionally   symbolic   image,  not  a  descriptive  representation.  Although  Silverman  and  Mauer  argue  that   Van  Gogh  aimed  to  generate  paintings  to  share  his  religious  ideals,  while  in  Paris  he                                                                                                                   411  After  the  8me  Exposition  de  peintre  in  spring  1886,  Gauguin  painted  in  Pont-­‐Aven  in  Brittany  from   June  through  November,  left  for  Martinique  in  April  1887  where  he  stayed  until  November,  and  left   in  February  again  for  Pont-­‐Aven  where  he  painted  with  Bernard  throughout  October.  Gauguin  left   Pont-­‐Aven  and  traveled  to  Arles  to  meet  Van  Gogh  that  October.   412  Silverman   91-­‐118.   On   the   story   of   Jacob   and   the   Angel   in   Symbolism,   see:   Suzanne   Singletary,   “Jacob  Wrestling  with  the  Angel:  A  Theme  in  Symbolist  Art,”  Nineteenth-­‐Century  French  Studies  32   (Spring-­‐Summer  2004):  298-­‐315.           215   engaged   with   formal   strategies   that   were   in   line   with   the   Literary   Symbolist   and   Neo-­‐Impressionist   theories.   In   so   doing,   the   religious   goals   Van   Gogh   set   in   1880   when  he  first  decided  to  become  a  painter  shifted  as  he  entered  a  modernist  milieu   and   reconsidered   the   role   of   the   canvas.   Considering   Van   Gogh’s   Paris-­‐period   paintings,   such   as   Patch,   as   his   transition   into   a   symbolic   use   of   color   and   form   locates   the   artist’s   developing   Symbolist   aesthetic   within   the   Baudelairean   ideals   that   influenced   the   Impressionists’   subject   matter   and   facture.   I   explore   how   the   Symbolist  theoretical  ideals  propelled  the  changes  in  Van  Gogh’s  painting  practice.   Furthermore,   I  consider  how  the  new  compositional  devices  with  which  the  artist   constructed  his  canvases  led  to  a  highly  reduced  method  of  capturing  natural  effects   and  a  shift  toward  symbolic  imagery  that  sent  Aurier  on  an  imaginative  voyage.       Symbolist  Theory   A  pile  of  more  than  a  dozen  French  novels,  strewn  against  a  wall,  decorated   with  yellow,  green,  pink,  and  red  book-­‐jackets  in  Van  Gogh’s  Romans  parisiens  (fall   1887)   [figure   12]   testify   to   the   artist’s   appreciation   for   books.   Vincent   left   the   painting   in   Paris   with   Théo   who   sent   Romans   parisiens   to   the   third   Société   des   Artistes  Indépendants  exhibition  held  in  spring  1888  to  represent  his  brother’s  new         216   work.  Van  Gogh  was  pleased.413  Judy  Sund  uses  Romans  parisiens  to  assert  that  Van   Gogh  remained  wholly  unmoved  by  the  Symbolist  literature  circulating  in  Paris  in  the   mid-­‐1880s.414  He  was,  she  continues,  captivated  by  Naturalist  writers,  such  as  Émile   Zola,  and  stayed  committed  to  their  novels  and  realistic  approach  to  subject  matter.   Although  A.M.  Hammacher  warned  not  to  read  Romans  parisiens  iconographically,   Sund  calls  attention  to  the  brightly  colored  book-­‐covers,  pointing  out  that  Naturalist   novels  appeared  in  similar  hues.415  Van  Gogh  was  not  a  mimetic  painter,  and,  at  this   point  in  his  painting  career,  he  neither  faithfully  depicted  the  scene  before  him  nor   used  local  color  to  describe  objects.     In  earlier  still  lives  with  texts,  Van  Gogh  underscored  content  or  recognizable   titles.    Van  Gogh’s  Still  Life  with  Bible  (October  1885)  [figure  13]  includes  his  father’s   bible  and  Zola’s  La  joie  de  vivre  (1884),  a  contrast  between  religious  testaments  and                                                                                                                   413  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  582  to  Thèo  from  Arles  around  Friday,  March  2,  1888.  See  note  9.  See  also:   letter  584,  which  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Saturday,  March  10,  1888.   414  Judy   Sund,   “Romans   parisiens:   Reading   Naturalism   in   its   habitat,”   True   to   Temperament   (Cambridge  and  New  York:  Cambridge  University  Press,  1992)  126,  144-­‐152.     415  A.M.  Hammacher,  “Van  Gogh’s  Relationship  with  Signac  (1962),”  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  146-­‐147.   Hammacher  aimed  to  shift  the  conversation  on  Van  Gogh’s  still-­‐life  images  that  included  books  from   an   iconographical   reading   to   an   investigation   of   the   artist’s   “separate   and   conflicting   patches   of   color”  in,  for  example,  Romans  parisiens.  She  stressed  Van  Gogh’s  use  of  the  books  as  rectangular   objects  that  allowed  for  artistic  experimentation  in  terms  of  color.  Sund  later  claimed  that  Van  Gogh’s   inclusion  of  novels  was  more  “purposeful”  than  Hammacher  initially  argued.  I  return  to  Hammacher’s   claims  and  consider  her  analysis  in  light  of  Symbolist  theory  as  I  find  Sund’s  argument  about  the  overt   nature  of  the  book’s  titles  and  content  an   irrelevant  point   in   Romans   parisiens  because  the  artist   omitted  text-­‐related  cues.             217   those  of  a  contemporary  author  who  paints  “life  as  we  feel  it  ourselves….”416  Two   extinguished  candles  may  symbolize  the  passing  of  Van  Gogh’s  father,  who  had  died   a   few   days   before   he   made   this   painting,   which   he   completed   in   one   sitting.417   Painted  in  the  dense  umbers  characteristic  of  the  painter’s  Nuenen  imagery,  Still  Life   with   Bible   addresses   the   notion   of   a   search   for   understanding,   during   which   one   could   refer   to   scripture   or   modern   novels.   In   a   Parisian   still-­‐life   painting,   Three   Novels  (January-­‐February  1887)  [figure  14],  Van  Gogh  drew  legible  book  titles  in  a   deep,  warm  palette  related  to  Still  Life  with  Bible.418  Painted  in  crimson  red,  Zola’s   Au   Bonheur   des   Dames   (1883)   lies   on   a   diagonal   in   the   background,   and,   in   the   foreground,  Jean  Richepin’s  Les  Braves  gens  (1886)  sits  atop  Edmond  de  Goncourt’s   La  Fille  Elisa  (1877).  Although  Still  Life  with  Bible  and  Three  Novels   imply  meaning   between   and   among   the   books’   content,   the   artist’s   color   describes   the   book   jackets,  leaving  the  viewer  to  consider  the  objects  as  they  are  and  the  meaning  the   texts  share  or  juxtapose.                                                                                                                     416  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  574  to  Wil  from  Paris  in  late  October  1887.  “On  the  contrary,  if  one  wants   truth,  life  as  it  is,  De  Goncourt,  for  example,  in  Germinie  Lacerteux,  La  fille  Elisa,  Zola  in  La  joie  de   vivre  and  L’assommoir  and  so  many  other  masterpieces  paint   life  as  we  feel   it  ourselves  and  thus   satisfy  that  need  which  we  have,  that  people  tell  us  the  truth.”   417  See  the  Van  Gogh  Museum’s  brief  overview  of  Still  Life  with  Bible:   http://www.vangoghmuseum.nl/en/collection/s0008V1962.     418  Bogomila  Ovcharov-­‐Welsh,  Van  Gogh  à  Paris  (Paris:  Musée  d’Orsay,  1988)  148.         218   A   principal   component   of   the   Symbolist   aesthetic   is   to   invite   viewer   participation   through   suggestive,   rather   than   literal,   means.   In   Symbolist   terms,   color  need  not  describe  the  subject  matter  for  optimal  clarity,  but  rather  enhance   and  exaggerate  compositional  qualities.   In  Van  Gogh’s  Romans  parisiens  the  titles   are  intentionally  illegible,  and  the  brush  strokes  lend  a  sense  of  motion  around  the   pile  of  inert  books.  While  the  literal  analysis  of  the  book  titles  may  or  may  not  lead   to   either   Naturalist   or   Symbolist   novels,   the   compositional   strategies   Van   Gogh   employed  do  so.  By  omitting  any  indication  of  the  novels’  content,  Van  Gogh  shifts   from  a  direct  literary  reference  and  potential  content-­‐related  themes  to  relying  on   texture  and  hue  to  convey  an  aspect  that  does  not  allow  the  viewer  to  investigate   the   books’   titles,   but   rather   to   consider   the   artist’s   medium.   In   some   cases,   the   application   of   paint   supplants   the   text.   The   artist   later   recalled   that   the   paint   application  was  rather  plain:  “no  stippling,  no  hatching,  nothing;  the  tints  flat,  but  in   harmony.”419     These  painterly  attributes  relate  to  the  developing  Symbolist  aesthetic  of  the   mid  1880s,  evident  in  novels,  manifestoes,  and  critical  accounts,  which  were  rooted   in  Baudelairean  theory.  Romans  parisiens  does  not  convey  typical  textures,  stipple,                                                                                                                   419  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  707  to  Thèo  from  Arles  on  Wednesday,  October  17,  1888.  See  also:  letter   584.  “I  think  it’s  a  very  good  idea  that  you  put  the  books  in  the  Independents’  too.  This  study  should   be  given  the  title:  ‘Parisian  novels’.”           219   or   hatch   marks.   Instead,   Van   Gogh’s   elongated,   somewhat   gestural   strokes   are   unique   to   his   act   of   painting.   Baudelaire   privileged   the   artist’s   imagination—“the   queen  of  faculties”—during  the  creative  process  so  that  the  canvas  could  provide   the   viewer   with   an   experience   that   excited   his   imagination.420  For   Baudelaire,   an   image  constructed  with  the  artist’s  individual  use  of  stroke  and  hue  could  enhance   the  spectator’s  senses.  Rather  than  describe  a  pile  of  books,  Van  Gogh  transcribed   the  subject  matter  through  his  imaginative  use  of  medium.  A  block  of  red  made  with   a   few   vertical   strokes,   for   instance,   appears   on   the   right   wall,   which   neither   connotes  a  shadow  nor  pattern  as  it  is  hue  for  the  sake  of  artifice.     Van   Gogh   was   aware   of   Baudelaire   as   a   poet   and   critic,   but   he   did   not   fervently   study   Baudelaire’s   texts   first-­‐hand   as   he   had   Zola’s,   for   instance.   421                                                                                                                   420  Charles  Baudelaire,  “The  Salon  of  1859,”  Art  in  Paris:  Salons  and  Other  Exhibitions,  trans  and  ed.   Jonathan  Mayne  (Oxford  Press  Limited,  1965)  163.   421  Charles   Baudelaire,   “The   Salon   of   1846,”   Art   in   Paris:   1845-­‐1862:   Salons   and   Other   Exhibitions   Reviewed   by   Charles   Baudelaire,   trans.   and   ed.   Jonathan   Mayne   (Oxford:   Phaidon   Press,   Limited,   1965)  47.  Before  arriving  in  Paris,  Van  Gogh  must  have  read  Baudelaire’s  “Salon  of  1846”  in  which  the   critic  aimed  to  define  Romanticism  in  terms  of  Eugène  Delacroix’s  paintings,  but  did  so  at  the  expense   of  Rembrandt’s  imagery:  “And  yet  Rembrandt  is  not  a  colourist,  but  a  harmonizer.  How  novel  then   would  be  the  effect,  and  how  matchless  his  romanticism,   if  a  powerful  colourist  could  realize  our   dearest  dreams  and  feelings  for  us  in  a  colour  appropriate  to  their  subjects!”  Van  Gogh  paraphrased   the   critic’s   sentence   regarding   the   difference   between   color   and   harmony   in   letter   536,   which   he   wrote  to  Théo  from  Nuenen  around  Tuesday,  October  20,  1885;  see  note  18.  Van  Gogh  understood   Baudelaire’s  position,  and  he  took   issue  with  the  use  of  black  and  white   in  regards  to  using  color   effectively.   Although   Baudelaire   did   not   specifically   address   the   use   of   black   and   white   in   Rembrandt’s  paintings,  Van  Gogh  could  have  interpreted  the  critic’s  use  of  “harmonizer”  to  mean   using   tints   and   shades.   Ultimately,   I   think   Van   Gogh   disagreed   with   Baudelaire’s   support   of   Delacroix’s  use  of  color  against  that  of  Rembrandt’s.  In  a  subsequent  letter  to  Horace  Mann  Livens   (letter  569  written  from  Paris  in  September  or  October  1886),  Van  Gogh  noted  that  he  was  not  trying   to  render  a  harmony  with  hue,  but  aimed  to  use  “intense  color.”  I  understand  this  statement  as  a  way         220   Baudelaire’s   ideas   about   indirect   meaning   to   engage   the   viewer’s   imagination   became   a   crucial   part   of   the   theoretical   structure   of   Symbolist   author’s,   such   as   Joris-­‐Karl   Huysmans.     While   Van   Gogh   was   enamored   with   Zola’s   writings,   the   painter   also   read   Huysmans’   A   rebours   (1884),   a   novel   for   which   Baudelaire’s   aesthetic  serves  as  a  foundational  tenet.  Van  Gogh  had,  according  to  Bernard,  “a   limitless   admiration   for   Huysmans;   he   especially   liked…A   rebours.”422  Huysmans’   sensitive   character   Des   Esseintes   stays   in   his   Fontenay   home   so   that   his   decrepit   senses   that   have   been   dulled   by   the   monotony   of   the   material   world   can   be   stimulated  by  Gustave  Moreau’s  The  Apparition  (1876)  [figure  15],  and  the  work  of   Odilon   Redon. 423  The   paintings   allowed   him   to   live   in   a   state   of   “dreamy   contemplation,”  away  from  the  “boredom  of  the  drawing-­‐room…the  stupidity  at  the   gaming  table  and  of  the  depravity  of  the  brothel.”424  Moreau’s  imagery  allows  Des   Esseintes   to   escape   the   despair   of   modern-­‐day   Paris   because   Moreau’s   paintings                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                               for   Van   Gogh   to   align   his   practice   with   Rembrandt   and   against   Baudelaire’s   assessment   of   Rembrandt’s  color.     Baudelaire  was  an  important  poet  to  Bernard.  In  an  1888  letter  to  Bernard,  Van  Gogh  quoted  a  verse   from   Baudelaire   in   which   the   poet   mentioned   Rembrandt   in   his   poem   “Phares”   published   in   Les   Fleurs  du  mal  (1857).  Van  Gogh  cited  the  verse  that  included  Rembrandt  to  underscore  that  the  critic   knew  “more  or  less  nothing”  of  the  Dutch  artist.    See  letters  628  (note  18)  and  649  (note  6),  which   Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Bernard  from  Arles  during  summer  1888.     422  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,  Van  Gogh  in  Perspective  38.     423  Joris-­‐Karl   Huysmans,   A   rebours,   trans.   Robert   Baldick   (New   York   and   London:   Penguin   Group,   2003)  56.   424  Huysmans  198.           221   suggest  meaning  through  ancient  references  that  do  not  form  a  succinct  narrative,   which   lead   the   main   character   to   a   dream-­‐like   state.425  Des   Esseintes’   experience   before  a  Symbolist  work  of  art  is  symptomatic  of  a  shift  in  considering  the  role  of  the   color  and  texture  of  a  canvas.  These  attributes  lent  themselves  to  the  effect  of  the   canvas  on  the  viewer’s  senses,  not  necessarily  to  shape  forms  or  set  objects  into  a   deep   space.   For   Des   Esseintes,   Moreau’s   facture   conveyed   “subtly   evocative   suggestions.”426  Moreau  intended  for  a  somnambulistic  viewer  to  contemplate  his   imagery,   be   jarred   awake   by   the   interesting   use   of   medium   and   unresolved   narratives,  reach  a  higher  reality,  and  realize  that  the  bourgeois  mores  clouded  life’s   vibrancy.427  Moreau   referred   to   the   escape   and   the   subsequent   realization   of   modern  life’s  deterioration  as  a  fixed  dream  (le  rêve  fixe).   Moreau’s  concept  of  the  fixed  dream  is  not  an  explicit  experience  available  in   Van  Gogh’s  Romans  parisiens,  but  the  underlying  aspects  that  lead  to  a  work  that   does   jar   a   viewer’s   senses   are   evident   in   the   artist’s   painting   techniques.     The   “harmony”  between  Van  Gogh’s  use  of  “flat  tints”  and  facture  in  the  painting  is  akin   to   the   relationship   between   the   aspects   of   Moreau’s   canvas   that   engage   the                                                                                                                   425  Huysmans,  A  rebours  56.   426  Huysmans  56-­‐59.   427  Douglas   Druick,   “Moreau’s   Symbolist   Ideal,”   Gustave   Moreau:   Between   Epic   and   Dream,   ed.   Geneviève   Lacambre   (Princeton,   NJ:   The   Art   Institute   of   Chicago   in   Association   with   Princeton   University  Press,  1999)  35-­‐36.         222   spectator  through  indirect  meaning.  The  paint  application  halts  the  subject  matter’s   meaning,  placing  emphasis  on  the  artist’s  painterly  construction.  Van  Gogh’s  use  of   hue   does   not   explain   the   novel’s   meaning,   as   he   had   done   in   Three   Novels,   but   conveys   a   sense   of   motion   in   a   seemingly   still   space.   The   blue   marks   of   the   tablecloth  rush  toward  the  lower  edge  of  the  picture-­‐plane  and  contrast  with  the   green  strokes  moving  up  the  wall  in  the  background.  The  books  are  not  static  but   operate  as  blocks  of  color  within  the  circular  motion  generated  by  the  elongated   brushwork  on  the  table  and  wall.  There  is  a  shift  within  Van  Gogh’s  book  still-­‐life   genre   from   the   directive   and   descriptive   to   oblique   references.   Creating   motion   became   a   visual   technique   in   Van   Gogh’s   paintings,   and   in   Romans   parisiens   this   sense   is   a   contributing   factor   to   the   overall   symbolic   nature   of   the   still   life   as   a   measure  of  the  artist’s  physical  movement  during  the  act  of  creation.     Van  Gogh’s  mark-­‐making  is  an  indication  of  the  artist’s  movement  before  the   canvas.  He  transformed  the  subject  matter  by  capturing  the  actions  he  performed   between   his   medium   and   his   canvas.   Translating   the   natural   world   through   an   exaggerated  use  of  medium  rather  than,  for  instance,  depicting  a  convincing  depth   of   space,   is   another   integral   component   to   Symbolist   aesthetics.   As   the   subject   matter  is  typically  suggestive,  the  paint  application  is  also  experimental  and  often   highly   embellished   texture   and   color.   Van   Gogh’s   depiction   of   landscape   in   Paris,   particularly  that  of  parks  such  as  Park  at  Asnières  in  Spring  or  Sous-­‐Bois  (Summer         223   1887)   [figures   7   &   16]   also   lead   from   a   tangible   subject   matter,   foliage   and   underbrush,  yet  move  into  an  expressive  use  of  hue  and  stroke  to  show  that  the   scene   has   undergone   a   rigorous   reinvention   in   the   artist’s   mind.   Van   Gogh’s   approach   to   landscape   in   the   Paris-­‐period   paintings   can   also   be   found   within   Baudelaire’s  theoretical  structure.     Baudelaire  relegated  nature  to  a  “dictionary”  and  urged  artists  to  pull  from   the   material   world   the   aspects   they   could   “digest   and   transform”   using   an   “execution”  that  is  both  “deft  and  unerring.”428  The  critic  encouraged  artists  to  paint   quickly,   losing  the  drive  to  capture  objects  as  they  were  and  instead  tap  into  the   energetic  nature  of  the  brush  on  the  canvas  during  the  intense  process  of  painting.   In   Baudelairean   aesthetics,   the   participant   deduces   symbolic   meaning   from   an   intense   experience   and   the   viewer’s   ability   to   connect   to   his   senses   without   hindrance.  The  eternal  realm  is  one  that  was  a  hitherto  invisible  reality  that  reveals   itself  mysteriously.  The  infinite  is  a  part  of  the  participant’s  interior  world  as  well  as   a  dimension  beyond  Nature,  beyond  mundane  everyday  experiences.  Elevation  into   the  eternal  world  can  be  stimulated  by  scent,  “contemplation  of  a  landscape,”  and   by  a  work  of  art.429  Essentially,  for  Baudelaire,  there  are  signs  in  the  material  world   that  can  trigger  an  experience  of  the  spiritual  world.  The  intermediaries  between  the                                                                                                                   428  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  160-­‐162.   429  F.W.  Leakey  186.         224   two  worlds,  the  transitory  and  the  infinite  realms,  are  the  hidden  correspondence,   signs  available  in  nature,  such  as  sounds,  scents,  and  colors.430  Art  is  the  antidote  to   the  banality  of  the  modern  world,  and  through  a  work  of  art’s  suggestive  nature  and   overstated   use   of   medium,   an   experience   within   an   eternal   realm   is   possible.   In   relation   to   Baudelaire’s   notion   that   artists   should   paint   modern   life,   this   aspect   addresses  the  first  component  of  the  critic’s  definition  of  Beauty,  composed  of  the   material  world  and  the  eternal  realm.  Baudelaire  noted  that  a  participant  could  not   transcend   nature—but   only   in   a   representation   of   nature   that   transcended   reference  to  the  material  world.  “When  nature  is  so  lovely,”  wrote  Van  Gogh,  “…I   am   no   longer   aware   of   myself   and   the   painting   comes   to   me   as   if   in   a   dream”   (687).431  Succumbing   to   the   painting   process,   Van   Gogh’s   dream-­‐like   experience   relates   to   Baudelaire’s   directives   in   terms   of   the   imagination’s   role   during   the   moment  of  creation.     While  there  is  no  evidence  linking  Van  Gogh  directly  to  the  texts  of  Symbolist   poets   Jean   Moréas   and   Gustave   Kahn,   the   Baudelairean   ideals   of   creating   from   nature,  but  entirely  abstracting  the  material  world  can  also  be  found  in  Symbolist   literary   theory.   In   his   Symbolist   literary   manifesto   of   1886,   Moréas   referred   to                                                                                                                   430  Townley  Mathews  29.     431  Van  Gogh  wrote  this  passage  from  Arles  to  Théo  in  a  letter  dated  Tuesday,  September  25,  1888.             225   Platonic  Idea,  the  highest  level  of  Beauty  that  exists  beyond  the  material  world.432   Mallarmé   also   noted   that   the   experience   before   “the   only   authentic   and   certain   merit  of  nature—the  Aspect”  was  Idea.433  Reaching  Idea  is  to  attain  a  state  of  mind,   a   state   that   separates   the   viewer   from   the   constraints   of   the   material   world   and   allows  him  to  experience  an  escape,  one  that  is  triggered  by  the  suggestive  nature   and   high-­‐keyed   color   of   the   canvas.   Similar   to   Moreau’s   fixed   dream,   Moréas   considered   an   intangible   realm,   an   eternal   space   that   was   a   harbor   to   the   over-­‐ wrought  senses  of  someone  living  in  the  modern  world.  Mallarmé  and  Kahn  both   also  noted  that  a  painting’s  idea  is  paramount;  they  did  not  focus  on  the  painting  as                                                                                                                   432  Jean   Moréas,   “A   Literary   Manifesto—Symbolism   (1886),”   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans.   and   ed.   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  1994)  151.  Erwin  Panofsky,  Idea,  trans.  Joseph  J.S.  Peake  (Columbia,  S.C.:  University  of  South   Carolina  Press,  1968)  4,  6,  13.  Panofsky  explains  that  for  Plato,  only  the  dialectician  could  be  trusted   with  the  divine  task  of  allowing  for  transport  to  the  eternal.  Plato  understood  the  world  as  a  duality;   the  eternal  is  veiled  by  the  transitory  or  material  world.  Pulsing  beneath  what  we  can  see  is  a  beyond   realm  that  is  accessible  through  contemplative  thought  of  something  beautiful  and  traveled  to  by  the   mind.  Idea  exists  in  the  universal  realm  beyond  the  material.  This  high-­‐level  of  beauty  already  exists   in  the  mind  of  an  artist  and  it  is  up  to  the  artist’s  soul  to  recognize  the  pure  ideal  of  beauty  within.   This  beauty  cannot  take  a  material  form;  its  representation,  Plato  stated,  was  simply  an  illusion  able   to  reveal  a  “truth”  through  intellectual  communication.  See  also:  Wladyslaw  Tatarkiewicz,  History  of   Aesthetics:  Ancient  Aesthetic,  Vol.  1.  Ed.  J.  Harrell,   trans.  Historia  Estetyki  and  Estetyka  Starozytna   (Paris:   PWN-­‐Polish   Scientific   Publishers,   1970)   118.   According   to   Tatarkiewicz,   Idea   exists   in   the   universal  realm  beyond  the  material.  Plato  believed  in  the  transcendence  of  the  body  and  soul  to   Idea,  a  constant  eternal  beauty.  For  a  brief  discussion  of  Baudelaire’s  ideas  on  transcendentalism  and   ancient   tradition   see:   F.W.   Leakey,   Baudelaire   and   Nature   (London:   Manchester   University   Press,   1965)  175-­‐  176.   433  Stéphane  Mallarmé,  “The  Impressionists  and  Édouard  Manet,”  The  New  Painting:  Impressionism,   ed.  Charles  S.  (San  Francisco:  The  Fine  Arts  Museum,  1986)  34.             226   a   thing.434  The   prime   experience   happened   through   the   process   of   interpretive   thinking,   not   by   reveling   in   the   formal   details   of   the   subject   itself.435  Although   Baudelaire  did  not  define  his  aesthetic  in  terms  of  an  Ideic  experience,  his  definition   of   Beauty   relates   to   the   Symbolist   poets’   ideals.   Baudelaire’s   Beauty   is   a   duality   between  the  transitory  and  eternal  realms,  and,  in  his  terms,  the  imagination  has  “a   positive   relation   to   the   infinite”   and   is   the   mind’s   conduit   between   the   material   world  and  an  eternal,  universal  feeling.436  In  Baudelaire’s  aesthetic,  the  imagination   can  communicate  through  an  inherent,  universal  language  and  thus  directly  connect   to  the  viewer’s  mind.437  Baudelaire  and  the  Symbolist  theorists  recognize  a  pathway   to  the  eternal  state  of  mind  through  one’s  imagination,  which  could  be  activated  by   a  painting  the  artist  produced  by  drawing  from  his  inner  mind.       Writing  to  Bernard  from  Arles,  Van  Gogh  echoed  this  painting  process:                                                                                                                   434  Townley  Mathews  9-­‐10.     435  Gustave  Kahn,  “Seurat,”  Symbolist  Art  Theories:  A  Critical  Anthology,  trans.  and  ed.  Henri  Dorra   (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1994)  172-­‐174.   436  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  156.  “Imagination  first  taught  man  the  moral  meaning  of  colour,  of   contour,  of  sound  and  of  scent.  In  the  beginning  of  the  world  it  created  analogy  and  metaphor.  It   decomposes  all  creation,  and  with  raw  materials  accumulated  and  disposed  in  accordance  with  rules   save  in  the  furthest  depths  of  the  soul,  it  created  a  new  world,  it  produces  the  sensation  of  newness.   As  it  has  created  the  world…it  is  proper  it  should  govern  it…Imagination  is  the  queen  of  truth,  and  the   possible  is  one  of  the  provinces  of  truth.  It  has  a  positive  relation  with  the  infinite.”   437  J.A.  Hiddleston,  “In  Search  of  an  Aesthetic,”  Baudelaire  and  the  Art  of  Memory  (Oxford:  Clarendon   Press,  1999)  41.  See  also:  F.W.  Leakey,  Baudelaire  and  Nature  (London:  Manchester  University  Press,   1965)  195-­‐217.  Through  an  analysis  of  Baudelaire’s  “Correspondances”  (1857),  Leakey  explores  the   relationship  between  Nature  and  the  symbol  in  the  critic’s  aesthetics.             227   But  in  the  meantime  I’m  still  living  off  the  real  world.  I  exaggerate,   I  sometimes  make  changes  to  the  subject,  but  still  I  don’t  invent   the  whole  of  the  painting;  on  the  contrary,  I  find  it  ready-­‐made— but  to  be  untangled—in  the  real  world.438     Untangling  pictorial  elements  from  nature  came  for  Van  Gogh,  in  some  ways,  in  the   form  of  landscape,  as  the  subject  matter  lends  itself  to  intense  abstraction.  In  Park  in   Asnières   in   Spring   and   Sous-­‐Bois,   there   is   an   overall   sense   of   pattern   generated   between   strokes,   layered   in   saturated   greens   and   Naples   yellow,   and   that   of   the   flattened  compositional  frame.  The  sense  of  motion  references,  not  a  breeze  among   the   shrubbery,   but   wind   as   a   metaphor   for   the   act   of   painting,   the   moments   of   uninhibited  creation.  Wind  rendered  in  tactile  medium  becomes  the  experience  of   the  artist  within  the  landscape  and  the  marks  are  evidence  of  his  experience,  which   is  unlike  the  process  of  rendering  the  scene  to  capture  transitory  effects.     In  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring,  the  sun’s  light  illuminates  the  canvases,  but  the   painter   did   not   reveal   the   sun’s   light   source   directly,   only   obliquely   through   the   warm  light  hues  that  permeate  the  canvas.  Van  Gogh  did  not  use  the  sun’s  light  to   shape  the  landscape,  providing  a  depth  within  a  far-­‐reaching  perspectival  space,  but   rather  crafted  the  canvas  as  a  sign  of  the  sun  itself.  Similarly,  Exterior  of  a  Restaurant   in  Asnières  (1887)  [figure  10]  shows  a  canvas  as  a  sign  of  sun  and  light,  rather  than   the  sun’s  rays  illuminating  a  surface,  helping  to  render  it  in  convincing  perspective.                                                                                                                   438  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  698  to  Bernard  from  Arles  around  Friday,  October  5,  1888.         228   In  Park  in  Asnières   in  Spring,  the  wind  and  sun  operate  symbolically,  as  the  artist   suggested  their  effects  but  subordinated  literal  translations  to  evoke  the  indication   of   an   atmospheric   occurrence.   He   did   not   necessarily   explore   his   experience   standing   in   the   park   of   a   forest,   but   that   of   the   relationship   among   his   palette,   brush,  and  image.  The  park  scene  and  forest  do  not  indicate  the  delicate  sense  of   light  upon  branches  or  foliage  but  reference  the  artist’s  relationship  to  his  canvas   and  the  action  of  applying  paint.  Standing  before  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  or  Sous-­‐ Bois,  the  viewer  cannot  recognize  an  area  of  a  familiar  park,  but  instead  experiences   a   generalized   body   of   foliage   depicted   with   an   interplay   of   color.   The   park   is   a   substructure  to  Van  Gogh’s  stroke,  hue,  and  impasto  texture  that  act  to  capture  the   artist’s   imaginative   transcription.   The   landscape   as   the   catalyst   to   the   artist’s   interpretative  use  of  medium  and  the  painting  in  turn  is  the  trigger  to  the  viewer’s   mind-­‐altering  experience.           In  Paris,  Van  Gogh  developed  a  new  approach  to  his  landscape  painting:  he   moved   from   a   world   of   light,   organic   forms,   and   perspective   to   the   underlying   remnants  of  the  natural  world.   In  his   landscape  paintings,  Van  Gogh  shifted  from   attempting   to   create   a   convincing   perspectival   space,   such   as   in   the   Avenue   of   Poplars  in  Autumn  (October  1884)  [figure  17],  to  an  idiosyncratic  experience  within   nature  and  between  the  artist  and  the  canvas.  In  Avenue  of  Poplars  in  Autumn,  an   early  instance  in  which  Van  Gogh  included  bright,  unblended  strokes  to  convey  the         229   sun’s  effect,  he  was  also  committed  to  depicting  a  deep  sense  of  space.  The  blue  sky   peeks  through  the  tall,  vertical  trees,  and  cast  shadows,  tinted  orange  and  Naples   yellow,  extend  over  the  dirt  path.    To  move  into  a  symbolic  painterly  vocabulary,  in   Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  or  Sous-­‐Bois,  Van  Gogh  opted  to  provide  a  depiction  of   nature  that  could  create  the  kind  of  experience  for  which  Baudelaire  called.  For  the   critic,   who   was   writing   during   the   Romantic   period,   one   could   not   transcend   in   nature,   a   Romantic   ideal,   but   one   could   have   a   significant   experience   before   a   canvas   whose   depiction   of   nature   had   been   so   wholly   subsumed   by   the   artist’s   perspective.439  The  participant  can  experience  the  eternal  realm  if  he  experiences  an   aspect  of  Nature  through  a  suggestive  symbol,  one  an  artist  makes  clear  to  a  keenly   intuitive  observer.440     In  Van  Gogh’s  Park  in  Asnières   in  Spring,  the  artist  approached  the  canvas   with  forceful  strokes,  embodied  with  a  sense  of  movement.    There  is  a  path  that   appears   in   the   center   of   the   canvas,   short   light   green   strokes,   highlighted   with   strokes  of  yellow—a  series  of  rock  or  wooden  steps,  perhaps.  The  path  does  not   create  a  recession  into  the  space,  but  instead  complicates  the  notion  of  depth.  The   space  the  path  creates,  one  that  could  typically  imply  the  viewer’s  presence  as  if  he                                                                                                                   439  Leakey  195-­‐217.  Through  an  analysis  of  Baudelaire’s  “Correspondances”  (1857),  Leakey  explores   the  relationship  between  Nature  and  the  symbol  in  Baudelairean  aesthetics.     440  Leakey  179-­‐185.         230   would   enter   the   pictorial   plane   along   the   stepping-­‐stones,   leads   to   a   wall-­‐like   pattern   of   dense   foliage.   Marks   in   the   foreground,   long   green   strokes   made   by   pulling  a  loaded  brush  over  the  canvas’s  surface,  seem  to  disappear  off  the  bottom   of   the   canvas.   Floating   light,   strings   of   short   oval-­‐like   brush   stroke   marks,   link   together.   Is   the   viewer   within   and   looking   down   or   glancing   across   a   field?   From   these  paradoxical  ambiguities,  leaf-­‐like  forms  emerge,  but  they  have  shed  some  of   their  organic  qualities  and  are  instead  cloaked  in  an  impenetrable  pattern  of  paint.   There   is,   though,  a  sense  of  movement,  but  that  of  the  artist’s  brush,  not  of  the   leaves  turning  in  the  wind.  This  suggests  that  light  and  greenery  are  transmutable.   Foliage  forms  and  transitory  effects  become  substantive,  tangible  paint,  belying  their   qualities   and   complicating   the   viewer’s   expectations   of   a   park’s   landscape   as   an   easily  recognizable  genre  scene.     Likewise,   in   Sous-­‐Bois   the   subject   matter   is   the   forest   undergrowth   and   a   glimmer   of   sun   on   the   horizon,   but   Van   Gogh   gave   the   canvas   over   to   a   play   between  stroke  and  hue,  again  indirectly  providing  a  sense  of  fluid  motion  and  light.   Although  a  sense  of  movement  within  underbrush  crowded  with  ground  cover  and   low-­‐lying  shrubs  may  lend  itself  to  conveying  the  effect  of  wind  on  the  leaves,  Van   Gogh’s  mark-­‐making  in  Sous-­‐Bois  renders  organic  greenery  tactilely.  The  strokes  thus   form  an  opaque  pattern  from  which  the  artist’s  process  emerges.  The  quick,  lighter   strokes  in  the  foreground  emulate  the  scale  and  hue  of  the  horizon,  confusing  the         231   depth  and  causing  the  horizon-­‐line,  dotted  with  a  bright,  light  Naples  yellow  to  push   forward  rather  than  gradually  fade.  Van  Gogh  symbolically  suggested  the  aspect  of  a   forest,  but  the  imagery’s  meaning  veers  into  the  ideal  of  the  creation  process  itself   and  the  artist  in  the  act  of  using  his  imagination  to  translate  nature.  In  both  Park  in   Asnières  in  Spring  and  Sous-­‐Bois,  the  picture  plane  becomes  a  subtle  variation  of  a   landscape,   the   specifics   of   which   have   been   subdued   to   create   a   canvas   that   is   almost  entirely  a  flat  field  of  abstract  marks.     Van   Gogh’s   sense   of   creating   from   his   imagination   to   reduce   the   subject   matter  to  the  essence  through  color  and  form  appears  in  a  letter  to  Bernard:   Certainly—imagination  is  a  capacity  that  must  be  developed,  and   only   that   enables   us   to   create   a   more   exalting   and   consoling   nature   than   what   just   a   glance   at   reality   (which   we   perceive   changing,  passing  quickly  like  lightning)  allows  us  to  perceive.441     “Exalting,”  moving  away  from  or  into  another  realm,  depended  on  Van  Gogh’s  ability   to  paint  ambiguous  imagery  that  relates  to  the  material  world,  but  provides  a  unique   effect  through  hue  and  stroke.   In  Paris,  Van  Gogh’s  palette  changed  dramatically,   although  he  used  some  of  the  colors—such  as  Naples  yellow  and  Prussian  blue—as   he  did  in  The  Netherlands.  Two  self-­‐portraits  [figures  18  &  19]  that  include  the  artist   with  his  palette  indicate  the  dramatic  revision  the  colors  of  his  palette  underwent.  In   Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter  (1886),  Van  Gogh  included  his  easel  and  looks  directly  at                                                                                                                   441  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  596  to  Bernard  around  Thursday,  April  12,  1888.           232   the  viewer.  His  flesh  emerges  from  deep  tones  of  greens  and  Prussian  blue.  On  his   palette  sits  a  pot  of  turpentine,  and  several  colors  laid  out  in  a  discrete  row.  From   left  to  right,  a  dark  red,  a  viridian  and  emerald  green,  and  a  bright  orange  appear  in   a  line  of  small  piles  of  medium.  442  Above,  a  light  blue  and  a  yellow  almost  disappear   into  the  shadows,  and  a  few  paint  strokes  of  lead  white  that  have  been  tapped  down   with  a  quick  movements  rest  on  the  corner.  They  all  maintain  a  boundary  on  the   palette,  careful  not  to  be  cross-­‐mixed.  Painting  from  a  mirror,  Van  Gogh  holds  his   palette  close  to  his  body  in  foreshortened  perspective  and  the  object  remains  as  a   signature  of  the  painter  as  a  professional  artist  at  work.   In  the  last  painting  he  made  in  Paris,  Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter  (1887-­‐1888),   Van  Gogh,  wearing  “a  blue  smock  of  coarse  linen,”  peers  out  over  the  easel  before   him  but  his  eyes  do  not  meet  the  viewer’s  gaze.443  The  artist’s  left  pupil  seems  to  be   fixated  on  the  canvas  before  him,  and  the  right  iris,  which  is  a  bit  larger  than  the   other,  remains  in  shadow  and  was  awkwardly  positioned  too  closely  to  the  artist’s                                                                                                                   442  Vellekoop  118.     443  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  626  to  Wil  from  Arles  in  mid-­‐June  1888.  “Here’s  an  impression  of  mine,   which  is  the  result  of  a  portrait  that  I  painted  in  the  mirror,  and  which  Theo  has:  a  pink-­‐grey  face  with   green  eyes,  ash-­‐coloured  hair,  wrinkles  in  forehead  and  around  the  mouth,  stiffly  wooden,  a  very  red   beard,  quite  unkempt  and  sad,  but  the  lips  are  full,  a  blue  smock  of  coarse  linen,  and  a  palette  with   lemon  yellow,  vermilion,  Veronese  green,  cobalt  blue,  in  short  all  the  colours,  except  of  the  orange   beard,  on  the  palette,  the  only  whole  colours,  though.  The  figure  against  a  grey-­‐white  wall.  You’ll  say   that  this  is  something  like,  say,  the  face  of—death—in  Van  Eeden’s  book  or  some  such  thing–very   well,  but  anyway  isn’t  a  figure  like  this—and  it  isn’t  easy  to  paint  oneself—in  any  event  something   different  from  a  photograph?  And  you  see—this  is  what  Impressionism  has—to  my  mind—over  the   rest,  it  isn’t  banal,  and  one  seeks  a  deeper  likeness  than  that  of  the  photographer.”         233   eyelid  to  meet  the  viewer’s  gaze.  Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter  conveys  the  new  ways  in   which  Van  Gogh  approached  his  canvases,  as  in  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  and  Sous-­‐ Bois.  On  the  palette,  two  small  pots  rest  on  the  edge,  one  for  turpentine  and  the   other  for  oil  (used  to  thin  the  paint).444  Paint  colors  similar  to  those  in  the  previous   palette   appear,   with   the   addition   of   orange-­‐reds,   cadmium   yellow,   and   cadmium   orange.445  Perhaps  what  is  most  striking  is  the  way  Van  Gogh  depicted  his  palette  in   use.  There  are  not  small  spots  of  paint,  the  product  of  a  frugal  squeeze  of  medium   from  its  tube.  Instead,  there  are  the  marks  of  the  artist’s  brush,  pushing  together   colors  but,  overall,  the  colors  are  unblended.    This  palette  is  the  byproduct  of  Van   Gogh’s  more  intense  use  of  paint.     There  is  a  stark  difference  between  the  marks  on  the  jacket,  beard,  and  facial   features   from   those   on   the   palette.   The   former   provide   a   sense   a   movement   characteristic  of  the  Paris-­‐period  paintings.  Warm  orange  and  yellow  specks  weave   through  the  cool-­‐blue  jacket,  but  rather  than  form  a  sense  of  the  torso’s  structure,   they   wrap   around   the   figure,   encircling   the   creator   in   his   painterly   vocabulary.   Likewise,  the  flesh  tones  of  the  head  and  neck  seem  to  suppress  the  intense  coloring   peeking  out  from  below  the  lighter  tones.  The  canvas  and  background  are  muted,                                                                                                                   444  Vellekoop  118.     445  Vellekoop  147.             234   drawing  attention  to  the  painter  in  the  moment  of  creation.  That  his  eyes  avoid  the   viewer’s  and  that  there  is  an  array  of  marks  on  the  palette  shifts  the  image’s  focus   from  the  portrait  to  the  act  of  painting   itself,  one  driven  by  the  artist’s  ability  to   determine  color  from  his  inner  mind.  Referring  to  the  portrait  as  an  “impression,”   one   that   “isn’t   banal,”   Van   Gogh   crafted   his   expression   from   careful   study   but   mediated  his  appearance  through  an  intense  color  palette.446     Lastly,  a  component  of  Symbolist  aesthetics  that  Van  Gogh  developed  within   his   Parisian   works   was   that   his   canvases   could   not   only   excite   senses   other   than   vision,  but  also  bring  about  a  state  akin  to  intoxication  in  the  mind  of  the  viewer.   Described   as   a   feeling   similar   to   one   induced   by   drugs   or   alcohol,   Impressionist   critics   made   the   reference   to   explain   how   a   highly-­‐charged   canvas   affected   the   spectator’s  senses.  Referencing  a  drug-­‐affected  mind  was  a  metaphor  for  the  ways   in   which   the   work   of   art   catapulted   the   viewer’s   imagination   on   its   journey.   Comparing  the  state  of  mind  to  a  high  achieved  by  a  drug—hashish,  opium,  alcohol,   or  absinthe—gave  a  concrete  narrative  to  the  metaphysical  journey  associated  with   paintings.  Since  the  transition  from  a  fully-­‐aware  state  before  the  work  of  art  inward   through  the  mind’s  journey  was  not  a  physical  space  the  body  entered,  the  parallel   to   an   inebriated   state   explored   reaching   such   a   feeling:   a   separation   from   the   material  world’s  stresses  and  the  pervasive,  all-­‐encompassing  nature  of  becoming                                                                                                                   446  Letter  626.         235   altered  due  to  consuming  a  mind-­‐altering  substance.  When  considered  within  the   context   of   Baudelairean   aesthetics,   references   to   an   intoxicated   feeling   in   the   presence  of  a  canvas  or  group  of  works  indicate  a  series  of  steps  that  lead  the  viewer   to  Idea.     Baudelaire  used  the  experience  of  hashish  as  a  metaphor  for  the  stages  of   mind-­‐escape   before   a   canvas,   which   attracted   the   eye.   Upon   ingesting   hashish,   Baudelaire  noted  that  the  senses  are  intensely  heightened  and  feelings  amplified  so   one  should  be  in  a  stimulating  place,  such  as  a  “landscape-­‐garden”;  second,  senses   become  “acute”  and,  as  “your  eyes  pierce  the  infinite,”  hallucinations  take  shape,   including   colors   that   hold   music   and   sounds   that   give   way   to   forms. 447     The   intoxicated  person  experiences  a  sensorial  cacophony  of  sights,  sounds,  and  smells,   and  transcends  the  restraints  of  commonplace-­‐life  to  another  world,  soaring  freely   and   without   everyday   struggles.   After   leaving   the   “marvelous,   fantastic   world,”   exaltation   gives   way   to   a   “dizzying   intoxication”   and   a   calm,   blissful   feeling   ensues.448   Impressionist  critics  began  to  note  the  canvas’s  intoxicating  effect  as  well.  “In   certain  canvases,  you  feel  the  vibration  and  palpitation  of  light  and  heat,”  Edmond                                                                                                                   447  Charles   Baudelaire,   “On   Wine   and   Hashish,”   Artificial   Paradises:   Baudelaire’s   Classic   Work   on   Opium  and  Wine,  trans.  Stacy  Diamond  (New  York,  New  York:  A  Citadel  Press  Book,  1996)  14-­‐23.   448  Baudelaire,  “On  Wine  and  Hashish”  21.           236   Duranty  noted  in  his  Impressionist  criticism  of  1876.  “You  feel,”  the  critic  continued,   “an   intoxication   of   light.” 449  Referring   to   the   landscapes   of   some   of   the   Impressionists   (he   did   not   mention   specific   artists   or   painters),   Duranty   differentiated   painters   who   conveyed   the   experience   within   nature   versus   those   who  represented  nature.  From  the  Impressionists,  he  could  feel  light  through  their   use  of  color.  Camille  Pissarro  and  Claude  Monet’s  images  shown  in  the  Impressionist   exhibition   the   year   Duranty   penned   his   text,   exemplify   “impressions   taken   in   a   nature  that  does  not  belong  to  this  world,”  as  one  critic  put  it.450  Pissarro’s  Pond  at   Montfoucault   (1874)   [figure   20]   does   not   convey   a   convincing   scene   observed   in   nature   in   all   the   canvas’s   aspects;   the   pond,   for   example,   appears   to   be   a   solid   square   of   brush   strokes   that   intentionally   falls   short   of   depicting   a   reflection.   Monet’s   Woman   with   a   Parasol   (1875)   [figure   21]   likewise   includes   areas   that   function  to  express  the  painter’s  mark  rather  than  distance,  sunlight  or  shadow,  the   elements   of   a   landscape.   The   lower   portion   of   the   canvas,   while   it   may   serve   to   convey   the   female   figure’s   weight   on   the   mound,   appears   also   to   be   a   flattened   rectangular  shape,  a  study  of  long  marks  acting  as  a  barrier  to  the  curvilinear  form                                                                                                                   449  Louis  Emile  Edmond  Duranty,  “The  New  Painting:  Concerning  the  group  of  Artists  Exhibiting  at  the   Durand   Ruel   Galleries,”   The   New   Painting:   Impressionism,   1874-­‐1876,   ed.   Charles   S.   Moffett   (San   Francisco:  The  Fine  Arts  Museum,  1986)  43.     450  G.  d’Olby  quoted  in  Moffett  183.             237   the  hill  should  have.  Allowing  parts  of  the  canvas  to  remain  in  a  state  disconnected   from  the  convincing  elements  of  an  outdoor  space  caught  the  attention  of  critics.   After  seeing  a  Moreau  exhibition,  Huysmans  wrote  that  Moreau’s  color  went  to  his   head  and  intoxicated  his  sight;  the  critic  became  so  dizzy  he  had  to  grope  his  way   out  of  Goupil’s  gallery  where  he  remembered  being  transported  to  “distant  realms,”   and  once  out  on  the  street  he  was  met  with  the  “ignoble”  and  “shameful”  streets  of   Paris.451     Van  Gogh’s  Arlesian  painting  Night  Café  (1888)  [figure   4]   conveys  such  an   aesthetic.  The  artist  noted  that  the  clashing  blood-­‐red  and  Veronese  green  suggest   the  underbelly  of  a  late-­‐night  café,  “a  place  where  you  can  ruin  yourself,  go  mad,   commit  crimes.”452  Between  the  gaslights  emitting  waves  of  colors  and  the  skewed   perspective,  the  painting  symbolically  conveys  a  state  of  drunkenness.  The  viewer   himself   is   not   looking   at   an   image   of   inebriation   but   through   the   lens   of   an   intoxicated  state.  In  Paris,  images  such  as  Café  Table  with  Absinthe  (February-­‐March   1887)   [figure   22]   portray   a   drug.   A   direct   statement   about   drug   culture   in   late-­‐ nineteenth-­‐century   Paris,   Café   Table   with   Absinthe   takes   absinthe   as   a   still-­‐life                                                                                                                   451  Joris-­‐Karl   Huymans,   “Gustave   Moreau   (1889),”   Certains,   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans.   and   ed.   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  1994)  44-­‐47.   452  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  677  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  September  9,  1888.           238   object  and  the  artist  depicts  the  hazy   liquid   in  white   light  before  a   large  window   looking  out  onto  a  Paris  street.     In  canvases  such  as  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  and  Sois-­‐Bois,  the  suggestion  of   an  inebriated  state  through  color  and  mark-­‐making  assumes  a  new  canvas-­‐viewer   relationship.  Although  Van  Gogh’s  landscapes  do  not  depict  an  observed  scene  of   drugs   or   alcohol,   the   artist’s   painterly   approach   relates   to   the   ways   Baudelaire   connected  the  contemplation  of  the  landscape  with  a  drug-­‐induced  mind-­‐set,  a  step   on  the  way  to  an  imaginative  journey.  Depicting  an  overt  reference  to  a  drug  was   not   a   symbolic   means   of   conveying   an   intoxicating   state.   In   Van   Gogh’s   canvases   movement  initiates  the  overall  effect,  leaving  the  viewer  to  contemplate  the  natural   forces  through  the  mediated  means  of  color  and  mark-­‐making.  Rather  than  depict  a   scene  that  appeared  to  convey  a  sense  of  drunkenness  or  include  alcohol  or  drugs   themselves,   the   artist,   similar   to   the   approach   of   Pissarro   and   Monet,   dedicated   much   of   the   canvas   to   a   study   of   the   paint   itself,   and   not   toward   constructing   a   sense  of  distant  space.  While  the  motion  within  the  paintings  could  be  attributed  to   the  wind  within  the  leaves  and  among  the  shrubbery,  in  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring   and   Sois-­‐Bois   the   motion   does   not   resolve   the   relationship   among   the   natural   elements  depicted  but  the  modes  of  construction  at  work  in  the  canvas.  This   is  a   significant  departure  for  Van  Gogh,  whose  works   initially  aimed  to  situate  figures   and  scenes  within  a  landscape.  In  1887,  the  transformation  his  work  underwent  is         239   evident  in  the  imagery  that  describes  his  process  rather  than  the  scene  before  him.   To  this  end,  the  artist  ventured  into  a  painting  practice  rooted  in  the  Baudelairean   notions  that  prioritized  the  imagination  to  ignite  that  of  the  viewer.  In  doing  so,  he   employed  a  pictorial  language  that  symbolically  suggested  a  translation  in  which  the   painter  intentionally  left  the  relationship  among  the  paintings’  elements  unresolved.   Although  there  is  an  attempt  to  show  depth  in  Park  in  Asnières  in  Spring  and  Sois-­‐ Bois,  both  may  also  be  read  as  a  whole,  a  wall  of  uninterrupted  abstract  marks.  In   this   way,   Van   Gogh’s   landscapes   engaged   the   viewer’s   senses   to   create   an   experience  that  could  lead  to  a  drug-­‐like  trance.         G.-­‐Albert  Aurier’s  Messiah   Van  Gogh’s  Patch  of  Grass  (April-­‐June  1887)  [figure  8]  indicates  a  departure   from   his   previous   Paris-­‐period   landscapes.   Void   of   depth   and   atmospheric   perspective,   Patch   begins   a   new   painterly   vocabulary   that   led   to   images   such   as   Starry  Night.  Flat  and  abstract,  the  painting  aesthetic  parallels  Baudelaire’s  aesthetic   directives.   Baudelaire’s   ideas   not   only   shaped   the   ways   in   which   the   painter   conceived  the  subject  matter,  but  put  the  emphasis  on  the  artist’s  mindset  and  in   turn   the   viewer’s   imagination   upon   experiencing   the   painting.   In   Patch,   the   artist   omitted  considerations  of   light  and  perspective  and  instead  captured  the  signs  of   the  natural  world  in  a  highly  idiosyncratic  mode  that  subordinated  the  Impressionist         240   and  Neo-­‐Impressionist  goals.  In  some  of  their  canvases,  the  Impressionist  and  Neo-­‐ Impressionist   artists,   such   as   Monet,   Pissarro,   Bernard   and   Signac,   consistently   capture  the  sun  or  depth  as  a  way  to  give  spatial  perspective  to  a  somewhat  abstract   image.   In   Patch,   Van   Gogh   interpreted   a   field   in   a   simplified   mode,   but   with   amplified   medium.   Patch,   like   Starry   Night,   is   visually   complicated   as   the   artist   suppressed  the  details  of  the  grasses  and  shrubbery  but  still  emphasized  the  means   by  which  the  image  was  constructed.  The  lack  of  perspectival  depth  in  Patch  and   Starry  Night   forces  the  journey  inward,   into  the  viewer’s   imagination,  rather  than   through   a   visual   experience   within   the   painting’s   pictorial   devices.   In   Patch,   the   viewer’s  gaze  cannot  meander  throughout  the  painting,  but  is  kept  on  the  surface  of   the  canvas.  The  surface  thus  becomes  paramount  and  the  landscape  a  subject  that   the  artist  can  root  obliquely  in  the  natural  world  yet  reinterpret  through  his  artistic   vision.       Patch  and  Starry  Night  have  the  components  that  caused  Aurier  to  consider   Van   Gogh   his   guide   to   Idea   in   “Les   isolés,”   which   appeared   in   the   first   issue   of   Mercure  de  France  in  1890.    During  Aurier’s  research  for  the  article,  Bernard  shared   with  the  critic  some  of  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  (though  unknown)  and  one  letter  Van   Gogh  wrote  while  Gauguin  was  staying  with  him  in  Arles.   Interestingly,  the   letter   included  a  passage  which  Aurier  paraphrased  in  “Les  isolés”  to  underscore  that  Van   Gogh’s  imagery  created  dream-­‐like  experiences  in  a  far-­‐away  world,  a  description  of         241   his  mind’s  journey.453  Although  Aurier  scholar  Patricia  Townley  Mathews  holds  that   Van  Gogh  was  unsettled  by  the  critic’s  article,  Cornelia  Homburg  and  Carol  Zemel   respectively  underscore  that  Van  Gogh  thanked  Aurier  for  the  essay  and  referred  to   it  often  to  his  friends  and  family.454  Van  Gogh  was  not  unsettled  per  se,  but,  rather,   “surprised”  by  the  attention  paid  to  his  work.455  The  painter  was  flattered  by  Aurier’s   essay,   and   both   he   and   his   brother   Théo   applauded   the   critic.456  “Les   isolés”                                                                                                                   453  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  716  to  Bernard  from  Arles  on  the  1st  or  2nd  of  November  when  Gauguin  was   staying  with  him:  “Next,  I  don’t  think  it  will  astonish  you  greatly  if  I  tell  you  that  our  discussions  are   tending   to   deal   with   the   terrific   subject   of   an   association   of   certain   painters.   Ought   or   may   the   association  have  a  commercial  character,  yes  or  no?  We  haven’t  reached  any  result  yet,  and  haven’t   so  much  as  set  foot  on  a  new  continent  yet.  Now  I,  who  have  a  presentiment  of  a  new  world,  who   certainly  believe  in  the  possibility  of  a  great  renaissance  of  art.  Who  believe  that  this  new  art  will   have  the  tropics  for  its  homeland  [sic].”  See  also:  note  2.  As  Van  Gogh  did  in  many  of  his  letters,  he   remarked   on   his   dream   to   have   a   collective   of   artists   working   together.   Aurier   paraphrased   this   passage  in  “Les  isolés”  to  describe  Van  Gogh  as  “an  exalted  believer,  a  devourer  of  beautiful  utopias   living  on  ideas  and  on  dreams.”  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223.   454  Patricia  Townley  Mathews,  Aurier’s  Symbolist  Art  Criticism  and  Theory  (Ann  Arbor,  Michigan:  UMI   Research   Press,   1984)   122-­‐23.   Cornelia   Homburg,   “Vincent   Van   Gogh’s   Avant   Garde   Strategies,”   Vincent  Van  Gogh  and  the  Painters  of  the  Petit  Boulevard  (Saint  Louis:  Saint  Louis  Museum,  2001)  53.   Carol  Zemel  The  Formation  of  a  Legend:  Van  Gogh  Criticism,  1890-­‐1920  (Ann  Arbor,  Michigan:  UMI   Research  Press,  1980)  65-­‐67.  Among  Van  Gogh’s  family  members,  his  mother,  sister  Willemien  (Wil)   and  sister-­‐in-­‐law  Jo  (Theo’s  wife)  responded  generally  about  the  essay  shortly  after  it  appeared  (845).   455  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  850  to  Théo  from  Saint-­‐Rémy  on  February  1,  1890.   456  Théo   wrote   letter   T55   to   Aurier   on   August   27,   1890   from   Paris.   See:   Vincent   Van   Gogh,   The   Complete  Letters  of  Vincent  van  Gogh:  with  reproductions  of  the  drawings  in  the  correspondence,  vol.   III  (New  York:  New  York  Graphic  Society,  1978)  589-­‐590.  On  “Les  isolés,”  see  also  Van  Gogh’s  letters   to  Théo,  all  written  from  Saint-­‐Rémy:  850,  853,  854,  863.  Théo  also  wrote  letter  867  to  Van  Gogh   from  Paris  on  Sunday,  May  3,  1890  in  which  he  noted  that  he  received  the  painting  of  cypresses  Van   Gogh  wanted  to  give  to  Aurier.         242   garnered   critical   praise   from   Aurier’s   peers   as   well,   and,   after   its   publication,   the   critic  became  a  sought-­‐after  theorist.457   I   consider   the   framework   Aurier   provided   to   define   Van   Gogh’s   Symbolist   approach   in   Patch.   Aurier’s   text   is   an   explicit   imaginative   voyage   to   Idea,   which   began   by   contemplating   Van   Gogh’s   Starry   Night.   In   considering   the   components   that  culminate  in  a  symbolically  charged  image,  Patch  reflects  the  underpinnings  of   Symbolist  painting  Van  Gogh  undertook  after  leaving  Paris.  While  Aurier  focused  on   later  works,  those  of  the  Paris-­‐period  bear  the  mark  of  the  climactic  images,  such  as   Starry  Night,  that  could  cause  the  viewer  to  pause,  stand  before  the  image,  block   out  the  material  world,  and  through  the  lens  of  the  artist’s  perspective,  engage  in  a   mind-­‐altering  experience.  Although  Patch  led  from  nature,  a  wall  of  texture,  mark-­‐ making  and  hue,  the  painterly  principles  caused  Aurier  to  experience  Idea  and  name   Van  Gogh  his  messiah.  Similar  to  Fénéon,  who  characterized  the  Neo-­‐Impressionists’   approach   as   a   way   to   symbolically   convey   the   subject   matter’s   sensation,   Aurier   defined   Symbolism   in   the   visual   arts   as   a   canvas   so   wholly   deduced   through   the   artist’s  mode  of  painting  that  the  subject  matter  appears  not  as  an  object  to  behold,   but   as   one   that   is   experienced   sensorially.   The   painting’s   formal   qualities   did   not   need  to  correspond  to  the  subject  matter  directly,  but  rather  communicated  with                                                                                                                   457  Mathews  12-­‐13.  On  the  reception  of  “Les  isolés,”  Mathews  writes:  “It  had  a  tremendous  success,   even  among  those  who  knew  nothing  of  Vincent’s  art…[Aurier]  is  acknowledged  as  an  authority  on   Van  Gogh  from  this  point  on.”         243   the  critic’s  senses,  allowing  him  to  make  imaginative  connections  between  the  effect   of  the  color  and  form.  Aurier  quoted  Baudelaire’s  poem  “Correspondances”  (1857)   to  explain  how  Van  Gogh’s  imagery  corresponded  to  an  otherwise  hidden  symbol,  to   which   the   senses   become   attuned   when   stimulated.   For   Aurier,   this   exchange   resulted  in  a  mind-­‐transport  to  Idea.     Aurier  began  “Les  isolés”  by  describing  how  he  regained  his  bearings  after   experiencing  a  journey  to  Platonic  Idea,  the  highest  level  of  Beauty  that  exists  in  a   realm   beyond   the   material   world.   He   reached   the   utopian   state   standing   before   Starry  Night,  a  painting  whose  color  and  form  ignited  his  dormant  senses,  senses   dulled  by  the  material  world’s  monotony.  “Suddenly,”  Aurier  began,  “now  that  I  had   returned  to  the  ignoble,  muddy,  razzle-­‐dazzle  of  the  dirty  street  and  ugly  real  life,   these  disparate  bits  and  pieces  of  verse  emerged  in  my  memory.”458  Once  he  briefly   reached  the  euphoric  state,  he  realized  the  ugliness  of  his  world.  He  then  recounted   the   pathway   to   his   transcendent   voyage.   Starry   Night’s   color,   similar   to   “glaring   sapphire  or  turquoise”  under  skies  of  “molten  metal  and  crystal,”  was  “nature  given   to  excess”  and  was  transformed  into  a  symbol.459  In  Aurier’s  terms,  Van  Gogh  was  a   “messiah,”   a   “drunken   giant”   who   created   imagery   to   provide   a   much-­‐needed                                                                                                                   458  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  220.     459  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  220.           244   escape  from  societal  problems.460  “Without  doubt,”  Aurier  wrote,  “like  all  painters   of  his  race  he  is  conscious  of  the  importance  and  beauty  of  matter,  but  more  often   than  not  he  takes   in  this  magical  matter  only  as  a  marvelous   language  ultimately   intended  to  translate  Idea.”461  Van  Gogh  felt  that  Aurier  wrote  it  as  a  guide,  not  only   for  him  but  also  for  all  of  the  Impressionists,  and  the  painter  thought  that  this  was  a   lot  of  responsibility  to  bear.  Van  Gogh  was  grateful  for  Aurier’s  praise,  writing  also   that   the   essay   “has   its   own   merit   as   a   critical   work   of   art.”462  “I   rediscover   my   canvases  in  your  article,”  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  Aurier  to  thank  him,  “but  better  than   they  are—richer,  more  significant.”463     Patch   closely   resembles   the   works   on   which   Aurier   focused   in   terms   of   formal   qualities   and   painterly   approach.   For   Aurier,   Van   Gogh’s   canvas   was   the   catalyst  to  Idea,  the  “final  cause”  of  the  work  of  art.464  The  concept  that  a  viewer   could  reach  an  eternal  realm  through  the  work  of  art  suggests  a  new  relationship   paradigm   among   the   canvas,   the   artist,   and   the   spectator.   Although   Van   Gogh   remained   a   religious   man   throughout   his   life,   the   short   time   during   which   he                                                                                                                   460  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223,  222.   461  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223.     462  Letter  850.     463  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  853  to  Aurier  from  Saint-­‐Rémy  on  February  9th  or  10th,  1890.     464  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223.           245   attempted  to  become  a  preacher  like  his  father  had  obscured  his  shifting  ideas  of   reaching   an   infinite,   spiritual   realm.   Through   Baudelairean   concepts,   the   painter   became  exposed  to  new  ways  of  thinking  about  religious  ends.  As  an  artist  capable   of   constructing   enigmatically   inventive   paintings,   Van   Gogh   engaged   with   an   emerging   concept:   that   the   artist   could   be,   in   a   metaphorical   way,   a   preacher   because   his   works   could   lead   the   devotee   to   experience   a   world   free   of   the   hindrances  and  stresses  of  the  material  world.     “Look,”  Van  Gogh  wrote  to  his  Thèo  in  1881,  “I  find  the  clergyman’s  God  as   dead  as  a  doornail.”465  At  this  point,  Van  Gogh  had  just  left  his  clerical  studies.  He   later  explained  to  Bernard  that  the  emblems  of  religious  beliefs—such  as  the  cross  in   the  small  image  hanging  above  the  patriarch’s  head  in  The  Potato  Eaters—could  be   conveyed   through   color   itself.     “And   in   my   painting   I’d   like   to   say   something   as   consoling   as   music,”   he   wrote   to   Bernard   from   Arles,   “I’d   like   to   paint   men   or   women  with  that   je  ne  sais  quoi  of  the  eternal,  of  which  the  halo  used  to  be  the   symbol,   and   which   we   try   to   achieve   through   the   radiance   itself,   through   the   vibrancy  of  our  colorations.”466  Written  a  month  before  Gauguin’s  visit,  Van  Gogh   associated  the  power  of  hue  with  the  ability  to  convey  a  sensorial  experience  that                                                                                                                   465  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  193  to  Théo  from  Etten  on  December  23,  1881.     466  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  693  to  Bernard  from  Arles  on  Monday,  September  3,  1888.             246   relates   to   the   infinite   realm.   In   a   sense,   these   words   from   the   artist   show   the   trajectory   of   his   thought   process,   particularly   his   views   on   the   role   of   the   paint   medium  on  the  viewer’s  senses  and  the  overall  impact  the  canvas  can  have.     The  roots  of  the  artist  as  messiah  can  be  found  within  Baudelaire’s  criticism.   Baudelaire  believed  in  the  Catholic  notion  of  Original  Sin,  but  not  in  redemption— death   could   not   bring   a   release   and   God   could   not   provide   salvation   from   the   world’s  evils.467  He  considered  religion  “the  highest  fiction  of  the  human  mind”  and   a  misuse  of  the  imagination’s  power.468  The  viewer  of  a  religious  image  must  use  his   imagination  to  believe  in  the  biblical  narrative.  In  Baudelaire’s  estimation,  this  was  a   futile  imaginative  exercise.469  The  imagination  allows  the  painter  to  connect  to  his   dreams,  creating  a  good  picture  that  consists  of  layers  of  the  artist’s  perspective  that   “confer[s]   greater   reality   upon   the   dream.”470  The   notion   of   religion,   as   it   was   traditionally   understood,   did   not   become   outdated   per   se;   rather,   in   Baudelaire’s   mind   it   misused   the   power   of   the   imagination.   For   Baudelaire,   art   provided   the                                                                                                                   467  On  Baudelaire’s  religious   ideals  and  his  concept  of  the  transitory  and  eternal  world,  see:  David   Carrier,   “Introduction:   Baudelaire’s   Metaphysics,”   High   Art:   Charles   Baudelaire   and   the   Origins   of   Modernist  Painting  (University  Park:  The  Pennsylvania  State  University  Park,  1996)  1-­‐5.     468  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  163.     469  Charles   Baudelaire,   Intimate   Journal,   trans.   Christopher   Isherwood   (San   Francisco:   City   Light   Books,  1947,  1983)  46.  “As  for  religion,  I  believe  it  is  useless  to  speak  of  it  or  to  search  for  its  relics….”   470  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  161.           247   antidote   to   the   banality   of   the   material   world,   and   the   critic   articulated   a   relationship   among   the   artist,   canvas   and   viewer   that   was   akin   to   an   intoxicated   experience,  such  as  with  wine  or  hashish.471  Baudelaire  urged  artists  to  depend  on   their  imagination  to  transform  nature  because  the  canvas  could  affect  the  viewer’s   mind   and   lead   the   participant   to   an   eternal   world   beyond   the   material   realm.472   Artists  he  valued  were  those  he  called  “imaginatives,”  those  who  sought  to  paint   their  own  souls  and  who  did  not  conform  to  traditional  art-­‐making  practices.  Instead   they  followed  their  inner  voices,  generating  images  by  dreams  that  were  held  deep   in  their  imaginations.        By  the  1880s,  artists  and  critics  both  equated  the  role  of  the  artist  with  that   of   the   preacher   and   creators   and   viewers   understood   that   the   canvases   had   the   ability   to,   metaphorically   speaking,   intoxicate   viewers.   James   McNeill   Whistler   introduced   himself   as   a   preacher   in   his   public   lecture   “Ten   O’Clock”   (1885)   and   noted  that  the  duty  of  the  artist  is  to  “elevate”  the  viewer’s  mind.473  Bertall  depicted   Édouard  Manet  as  Jesus  with  his  disciples  in  a  caricature  [figure  23],  and  Mallarmé                                                                                                                   471  Baudelaire  “On  Wine  and  Hashish”  14-­‐23.     472  Baudelaire  “The  Salon  of  1859”  144-­‐216,  155-­‐162,  163-­‐188.     473  James   McNeill   Whistler,   “Ten   O’clock,”   The   Correspondence   of   James   McNeill   Whistler,     <http://www.whistler.arts.gla.ac.uk/miscellany/tenoclock/>  (12  March  2014).           248   referred   to   Manet   as   a   preacher   in   his   Impressionist   criticism.474  Mallarmé   also   emphasized  that  Manet  and  his  Impressionist  followers  sought  truth  by  focusing  on   the  painting’s  effect  on  the  viewer’s  senses,  rather  than  the  canvas  (the  thing)  itself.   The   critic   concluded   that   painting’s   purpose   is   to   lead   to   Idea.475  Moréas,   in   his   Symbolist  literary  manifesto,  asserted  that  the  artist’s  aim  is  to  “clothe  the  Idea  in  a   form  perceptible  to  the  senses,”  convey,  in  other  words,  a  symbolic  language  within   an  enticing  mode.476  In  response  to  Georges  Seurat’s  pointillist  Sunday  Afternoon  on   the   Island   of   La   Grande   Jatte   (1884-­‐1886)   [figure   24],   critic   Octave   Maus   characterized  the  debate  surrounding  the  painter  as  a  “messiah  of  a  new  art—or  a   cold-­‐blooded  mystifier.”477  Kahn  published  a  response  to  the  symbolist  painters  in   1886   and   in   1891   articulated   that,   in   terms   of   Seurat,   a   painting   is   a   system   of   suggestive   symbols.   The   symbolic   painterly   elements   Kahn   addressed   similarly   shifted  the  perspective  of  a  religious  hierarchy  from  the  pulpit  to  the  canvas.  The                                                                                                                   474  Mallarmé   in   Moffett   28.   On   Manet   as   a   preacher:   “For   it   was   evident   that   the   preacher   had   meaning;  he  was  persistent  in  his  reiteration,  unique  in  his  persistence,  and  his  works  were  signed  by   the  then  new  and  unknown  name  of  Édouard  Manet.”       475  Mallarmé   in   Moffett   34.   “I   content   myself   with   reflecting   on   the   clear   and   durable   mirror   of   painting,  which  only  exists  by  the  will  of  Idea,  yet  constitutes  in  my  domain  the  only  authentic  and   certain  merit  of  nature—the  Aspect.”   476  Jean   Moréas,   “A   Literary   Manifesto—Symbolism   (1886),”   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans.   and   ed.   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  1994)  151.     477  Octave  Maus  quoted  in  Moffett  469.             249   critics,  Aurier  included,  depended  on  the  artist’s  translation  of  the  objective.478  The   painting  in  the  critics’  terms  did  not  supplant  a  religious  experience,  but  could  act  as   a  starting  point  to  experience  an  imaginative  escape.     In  Paris,  Van  Gogh’s  landscapes,  including  Patch,  became  highly  suggestive.   In  Way  in  the  Voyeur  d’Argenson  Park  in  Asnières  (June/July  1887)  [figure  25]  the   image’s  composition  leaves  a  space  for  the  spectator’s  presence,  acknowledges  the   viewer’s   gaze,   and   provides   richly   saturated   hues   and   forceful   brush   strokes   that   generate  a  pattern  among  the  seemingly  distinct  objects  within  the  painting.  The   woman,   dressed   colorfully   in   a   crimson   blouse   and   floral   skirt   that   bears   little   distinction   from   the   gardens   surrounding   her,   gazes   outside   the   picture   plane.   Although  her  eyes  and  facial  expression  are  obscured,  her  bodily  posture  is  parallel   to  someone  who  would  stand  before  the  canvas,  turning  her  shoulders  away  from   the  path’s  direction  and  toward  the  open  gravel-­‐like  path  beyond  the  curb  on  which   she  stands.  She  appears  to  be  caught  in  a  moment  of  paused  motion,  holding  up  her   skirt   and   looking   at   whoever   has   stepped   upon   the   path.   The   path’s   openness   recognizes  a  space  the  viewer’s  body  could  take,  empathetically  leaving  a  place  for   the   participant   to   meet   the   body   of   the   female   figure.   She,   in   turn,   meets   the                                                                                                                   478  Richard  Shiff,  “Impressionism  and  Symbolism  as  Modes  of  Artistic  Expression,”  Cézanne  and  the   End   of   Impressionism:   A   Study   of   the   Theory,   Technique,   and   Critical   Evaluation   of   Modern   Art   (Chicago  and  London:  The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1984)  39.  Kahn  also  responded  to  the  paintings   Van  Gogh  included  in  the  Indépendants,  noting  that  the  artist  needed  to  address  his  use  of  value;  a   criticism  Van  Gogh  found  helpful.  Van  Gogh  wrote  letter  594  to  Théo  from  Arles  on  Monday,  April  9   1888;  see  also:  note  15.         250   newcomer’s  gaze.  With  the  female  figure,  Van  Gogh  began  to  assert  a  new  painterly   purpose   because   the   female   figure   is   an   optical   agent,   underscoring   the   act   of   contemplative   viewing.   For   Aurier,   this   was   the   first   stage   of   his   transcendent   journey.     The  overall  blended  painterly  approach  and  the  figure’s  gaze  in  Way  in  the   Voyeur  d’Argenson  Park  is  not  unlike  that  of  Olympia  and  the  elements  surrounding   her   in   Manet’s   1863   painting   [figure   26].   In   his   defense   of   Manet’s   controversial   painting,  Émile  Zola  pointed  out  that  the  artist  simplified  the  figure’s  eyes  and  lips   and  the  large  bouquet.479  In  so  doing,  the  artist  subsumed  facial  details  and  floral   particulars,  which  were  typically  used  to  show  a  hierarchy  among  the  items  of  the   painting’s  subject  matter.  Zola  underscored  that  Manet’s  ability  to  treat  both  figures   and  flowers  as  objects  that  “reconstruct  reality…by  means  of  connect[ing]  surface   shapes   and   large   zones   of   light”   gave   his   work   the   “severity   of   nature.”480  Zola’s   thoughts  on  Manet’s  depiction  of  nature  dovetail  with  Fénéon’s  and  Aurier’s  ideals   as  both  critics  relied  on  the  artist’s  ability  to,  in  Zola’s  words,  “take  a  few  steps  back”   to   translate   nature’s   vital   sensations   in   an   unassuming   form.   Having   read   Zola’s                                                                                                                   479  Émile  Zola  quoted   in  Hajo  Düchting,  Édouard  Manet:   Images  of   Parisian  Life   (Munich  and  New   York:  Prestel-­‐Verlag,  1995)  46-­‐47.     480  Zola  quoted  in  Düchting  46.             251   passage  on  Olympia,  Van  Gogh  found  the  critic’s  analysis  an  effective  way  to  depict   nature,  but  nature  channeled  and  reinvented  through  the  artist.481  Van  Gogh  found   he   needed   to   reduce   forms   and   omit   details   that   alluded   to   a   person   or   object’s   significance   and   allow   the   painting   to   be   read   as   a   surface,   without   defining   characteristics  that  would  draw  attention  to  one  aspect  more  than  another.     The  figure’s  gaze  in  Way  in  the  Voyeur  d’Argenson  Park  parallels  the  painterly   attributes  Zola  outlined.  Although  the  figure’s  shoulders  turn  toward  the  viewer,  her   overall  depiction  blends  with  the  foliage,  presenting  her  level  with  that  of  the  park.   In  Patch  a  similar  approach  of  sublimated  details  appears  for  the  only  indication  of   the   sky   is   a   horizontal   stripe   of   neutral   color   at   the   canvas’s   top.   Van   Gogh   was   neither  interested  here  in  capturing  the  sun’s  fleeting  effects  nor  the  atmospheric   qualities   of   the   sky,   ephemeral   traits   associated   with   Impressionistic   painting.                                                                                                                   481  Although  Düchting  points  out  that  Zola  himself  missed  Manet’s   intentionally   ironic  use  of  paint   medium,  Van  Gogh  read  Zola’s  account  and  used  the  critic’s  words  to  shape  his  own  painting  practice.   On   Zola’s   passage,   Van   Gogh   wrote   letter   359   to   Anthon   van   Rappard   from   The   Hague   around   Tuesday,  July  3,  1883.  “I  would  truly  like  to  begin  by  saying  that  I’m  not  one  of  those  who  blame  Zola   for  this  book.  Through  it  I’m  getting  to  know  Zola,  I’m  getting  to  know  Zola’s  weak  side—insufficient   understanding  of  painting—prejudices  instead  of  correct  judgment  in  this  special  case.  But,  my  dear   friend,  should  I  get  irritated  with  a  friend  on  account  of  a  fault  in  him?—far  from  it.  On  the  contrary,   he  is  all  the  dearer  to  me  because  of  his  fault.  So  I  read  the  articles  about  the  Salon  with  a  most   curious  feeling.  I  think  it  utterly  wrong,  entirely  mistaken,  except  in  part  the  appreciation  of  Manet—I   too   think   Manet   is   clever—but   very   interesting,   Zola   on   art,   interesting   in   the   same   way   as,   for   instance,   a   landscape   by   a   figure   painter:   it   isn’t   his   genre,   it’s   superficial,   incorrect,   but   what   an   approach—not  carried  through—so  be  it—not  quite  clear—so  be  it—but  at  any  rate  it  makes  one   think  and  is  original  and  tingling  with  life.  But  it’s  mistaken  and  most  incorrect,  and  rests  on  shifting   sands.”           252   Instead,  Patch  immerses  the  viewer’s  sight  in  a  cacophony  of  lines,  dotted  color,  and   hue.  Although  Van  Gogh  began  the  image  by  painting  nature,  he  veers  toward  the   abstract   and   does   not   rely   on   underbrush   or   linear   tree   trunks   to   provide   spatial   descriptive   devices.   The   painter   did   not   aim   to   mimetically   articulate   the   shadow   and  scale  of  the  field.  In  the  foreground  the  participant  meets  several  strokes  of  a   light   Naples   yellow,   a   close   up   of   a   plant.   These   organic   forms   have   shed   their   characteristics—their   sense   of   delicacy,   their   connection   to   the   ground,   their   appearance   beneath   the   sunlight.   Nevertheless   there   is   an   overall   sense   of   movement,   as   the   strokes   read   as   one   wall   of   colorful   patterns.   Movement   is   a   symbol  of  the  natural  grace  of  a  field  of  flowers  and  grasses  and  part  of  the  painter’s   experience—and  the  symbolic  reference  to  nature  transformed  is  the  aspect  of  Van   Gogh’s  painting  that  Aurier  would  find  significant.     Patch  shows  the  transition  to  a  denotation  of  movement  through  color  and   form—a   painting   that   emits   chromatic   vibrations   through   a   reductive   painterly   process.  In  Patch  and  Starry  Night,  Van  Gogh  did  not  rely  on  the  atmospheric  issues   of   light   and   reflection,   but   used   the   paint   medium   to   materialize   the   intangible   presence   of   natural   elements,   such   as   implied   motion   from   a   gentle   breeze,   in   a   tactile  medium.  The  thrust  of  the  foliage  leaves  room  for  the  spectator’s  body,  as   the   pattern   moves   in   an   oval-­‐like   shape   from   the   bottom   center   of   the   canvas         253   through  to  the  top.  The  viewer’s  space  is  in  the  center  of  the  oval  as  the  shape  swirls   around  the  periphery.    To  this  end,  there  are  several  monochromatic  Prussian-­‐blue   lines  threaded  throughout  the  plane.  Van  Gogh  painted  a  fiction  of  nature  in  this   sense.   The   blue   lines,   natural-­‐like   forms,   signify   motion   around   the   participant’s   focused  gaze.  Patch  is  significant  because  it  indicates  Van  Gogh’s  ability  to  provide   an   explicit   respite   for   the   viewer’s   gaze   among   his   enigmatic   lines   and   colors,   suggesting  that  the  aim  of  his  painting  becomes  a  means  to  a  transcendent  end.  Van   Gogh,   Aurier   wrote,   was   a   “messiah,   a   sower   of   truth…[who   regenerated]   our   decrepit   art   and   perhaps   our   imbecile   society.”482  After   shedding   the   material   world’s   hindrances,   Aurier   found   imaginative   salvation   through   Van   Gogh’s   Starry   Night,   describing   the   artist’s   process   in   a   manner   that   can   be   applied   to   Patch:   “…often  clumsy  buildups  comparable  to  shimmering  masonry,  and  all  this  gives  his   canvases  the  solidity  of  dazzling  ramparts  of  crystal  and  sunlight.”483  Aurier’s  words   describe   a   contradictory   analogy—dense,   yet   reflective,   and   wall-­‐like,   yet   permeable.     Patch   is   likewise   a   conflicting   landscape   in   that   it   implies   light   and   reflection,  but  is  ultimately  and  thick,  crowded  and  compressed  image  of  a  field.     Van  Gogh’s  approach  reflects  some  of  the  Impressionist  painter’s  practices  as   some  painters  also  complicate  depth  and  simplify  forms  through  an  egalitarian  use                                                                                                                   482  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  223.     483  Aurier  quoted  in  Dorra  225.           254   of  paint  stroke  and  texture.  In  Monet’s  Woman  with  Parasol—Madame  Monet  and   Her   Son   (1875)   and   Berthe   Morisot’s   (1841-­‐1895)   The   Wet   Nurse   Angèle   Feeding   Julie  Manet  (1880),  abstract  marks  dominate  the  figures  and  landscape  [figures  27  &   28].  The  peasant  girl  in  Pissarro’s  The  Shepherdess  (1881)  appears  to  be  sliding  down   a   hill   whose   depth   has   been   thrust   forward   to   reconsider   the   spatial   relationship   among  the  foreground,  the  figure  and  the  horizon  [figure  29].  The  three  areas  used   to  provide  illusory  space  have  been  subordinated  to  emphasize  the  medium’s  form.   Le   Chemin   de   fer   de   Dieppe   (1886)   exemplifies   Pissarro’s   pointillism   of   1886,   the   flattened  picture  plane  and  all-­‐over  sense  of  pattern  that  emerged  [figure   30].484   Seurat’s  La  Luzernes,  Saint-­‐Denis:  champ  de  coquelicots    (1885-­‐1886  and  exhibited  at   the   Exposition   des   Indépendants   in   September   of   1886)   [figure   31]   is   a   canvas   strikingly  similar  to  Le  Chemin  because  the  viewer  is  faced  with  a  wall  of  texture  and   pattern  in  the  near  foreground.  A  clear  path  separates  the  abstract  lower  portion   and  the  horizon  dotted  with  structures.  Seurat’s  hatch-­‐marked  foreground  occupies   about  two  thirds  of  the  painting’s  height.  The  foreground  demands  attention,  both   for   its   scale   and   lack   of   depth,   and   in   this   way   actively   vies   for   the   participant’s                                                                                                                   484  Martha   Ward,   Pissarro:   Neo-­‐Impressionism   and   the   Spaces   of   the   Avant-­‐Garde   (Chicago   and   London:  The  University  of  Chicago  Press,  1996)  75-­‐78.  Pissarro  executed  the  painting  in  the  summer   of  1886  and  completed  (retouched)  it  in  December.  During  this  time,  according  to  Naifeh  and  Smith,   Pissarro  and  his  son  Lucien  visited  Van  Gogh  and  Théo  regularly  in  the  apartment  on  the  rue  Lepic   (550).             255   senses.  The  foliage  does  not  connect  to  the  atmospheric  perspective  the  horizon  line   brings.  Seurat  sought  the  symbolic  through  suggesting  nature,  not  denoting  it,  as  the   foreground  foliage  neither  appears  to  grow  from  a  distinct  earth  nor  has  leaf-­‐like   shapes.485  In  these  images,  a  paradox  between  the  medium  and  the  representation   is   at   work.   Whereas   the   painters   depict   open-­‐air   subjects   or   fields   that   extend   infinitely  into  the  horizon,  their  respective  applications  of  hue  and  medium  create  a   dense  screen  that  belies  the  typical  effects  found  in  a  landscape  painting.       As   Van   Gogh   engaged   with   the   Impressionist   canvases   and   experimented   with  perspective  and  brushwork,  Gauguin  was  also  developing  what  would  become   his  Symbolist  style  in  Martinique.  In  Martinique  in  1887,  Gauguin  too  made  paintings   of   foliage   that   became   walls   of   color   and   facture,   compounding   figure-­‐ground   relationships  such  as  in  Tropical  Vegetation  (1887)  [figure   32].   In  Gauguin’s  Notes   Synthétiques,  written  between  1884  and  1885,  he  wrote:     Painting  is  the  most  beautiful  of  all  the  arts;  it  is  the  summation  of   all  our  sensations,  and  contemplating  it  we  can  each,  according  to   our  imagination,  create  the  story,  in  a  single  glance  our  soul  can   be   flooded   with   the   most   profound   reflection;   no   effort   of   memory,  everything  summed  up  in  a  single  instant.—A  complex   art  which  completes  all  the  others.—Like  music,  it  works  on  the   soul  through  the  intermediary  of  the  senses;  harmonies  of  tones                                                                                                                   485  Kahn  quoted  in  Dorra  174.  In  Kahn’s  words  from  the  painter’s  1891  obituary:  Seurat’s  work  was   “the  most  suggestive”  because  “the  symbol…lay  in  the  interpretation  of  a  subject,  not  in  the  subject   itself….”         256   correspond  to  harmonies  of  sounds…486   Gauguin  too  asserted  that  the  viewer’s  soul  can  be  inundated  with  a  reflection,  a   pulse   of   an   instant   that   warrants   significant   meditation.   Gauguin   also   echoed   Baudelairean  theory  and  underscored  his  ability  to  use  the  natural  world  to  convey   the  symbolism  of  universal  ideals.487  Gauguin  had  lost  faith  in  civilization  to  lead  man   to  truth,  and  depended  instead  on  natural  locales  to  guide  him  to  a  transcendent   state.  He  held  that  to  experience  Idea,  one  must  meet  the  artist’s  subjective  view.488     For   Aurier,   Gauguin’s   and   Van   Gogh’s   respective   canvases   held   the   mysterious   symbol   that   could   correspond   with   the   universal   realm   beyond   the   material   world   by   relating   color   and   sound,   triggering   sensory   experiences.   In   Aurier’s   essay   on   Gauguin,   the   critic   began   with   Vision   After   the   Sermon   [figure   11]—in  which  the  preacher’s  profile  resembles  that  of  Gauguin  himself,  leading  the   congregation  through  an  imaginative  journey—and  he  cited  parts  of  the  first  stanza   of   Baudelaire’s   “Correspondances.” 489  Aurier   noted   that   the   Vision’s   symbolic   imagery   had   transformed   in   some   way   into   sound,   leaving   only   the   priest’s   (Gauguin’s)   voice   and   those   of   the   congregation.   Another   artist   in   the   role   of   a                                                                                                                   486  Paul  Gauguin,   Notes  Synthétiques,   quoted   in   Belinda   Thomson,   ed.   Gauguin   by   Himself   (United   Kingdom:  Time  Warner  Books,  2004)  34.       487  Mathews  87-­‐90.   488  Mathews  20  and  42.   489  Aurier,  “Symbolism  in  Painting:  Paul  Gauguin  (1891)”  quoted  in  Dorra  199-­‐200.         257   preacher  draws  forth  a  mind-­‐altering  experience  for  the  viewer.  What  is  particularly   important   in  terms  of  Gauguin’s  and  Van  Gogh’s  symbolic   imagery   is  Baudelaire’s   understanding   of   the   relationship   between   nature   and   the   process   of   correspondance.  Within  nature  lay  a  dictionary  of  signs.  The  artists  made  reasoned   selections  from  the  natural  world  and  transformed  a  field  of  grasses  and  flowers,  for   example,  into  a  symbol  of  movement  (in  Patch  or  Starry  Night)  or  into  a  collection  of   voices  (in  Vision).  Van  Gogh,  in  Aurier’s  words,  wrote  “out  those  forms…according  to   a   mode   susceptible   to   general   comprehension.”490  In   the   critic’s   terms,   Van   Gogh   corresponded   with   complex   ideas   and   forms   to   generate   a   canvas   that   could   accessibly  communicate  through  reductive  means.  What  Aurier’s  senses  responded   to  were  visual  devices  Van  Gogh  and  Gauguin  created  to  allow  the  viewer  to  read   the   image   as   one   plane   of   pattern,   form,   facture   and   color.   Both   painters   began   depending   on   their   subjective   vision   and   drew   from   their   inner   minds.   Aurier   described   the   feeling   of   being   drawn   into   a   correspondant   experience,   an   intoxication,  an  inebriated  state  brought  on  by  an  inventive  canvas.       Conclusion   By   the   1880s,   Baudelaire’s   ideas   had   been   absorbed   into   the   theoretical   lexicon   and   critics   explicitly   referenced   his   aesthetic   ideas,   namely   those   that                                                                                                                   490  Aurier,  “Symbolism  in  Painting:  Paul  Gauguin  (1891)”  quoted  in  Dorra  200.         258   addressed  the  changing  role  of  the  painter  within  the  context  of  a  viewer’s  journey.   Van  Gogh  arrived  in  Paris  during  a  time  when  Baudelairean  ideas  helped  shaped  the   Symbolist   literary   and   poetic   milieu,   and   the   painter   become   exposed   to   new   methods  of  eliciting  a  mind-­‐altering  experience  before  the  canvas.  The  journey  itself,   in   Aurier’s   terms,   was   associated   with   a   metaphysical   realm. 491  Although   the   materiality  of  Van  Gogh’s  surfaces  in  images  like  Patch  became  more  concrete  and   literally   solid,   almost   impenetrable,   the   image   paradoxically   invites   the   viewer’s   participation  and  ignite  an  imaginative  journey.  Van  Gogh’s  approach  inverted  the   typically   light   and   airy,   sunshine-­‐filled   canvases   in   images   such   as   The   Restaurant   Rispal   à   Asnières   (summer   1887)   [figure   33].   In   The   Restaurant   Rispal,   Van   Gogh   employed  two-­‐point  perspective;  trees  and  clouds  frame  the  endpoints.  The  main   gentleman  crossing  the  boulevard  appears  in  slightly  more  detail  than  the  working   class  man  in  the  white  jacket  on  the  sidewalk,  owing  to  the  latter  figure’s  distance.   Patch   indicates   that   Van   Gogh   engaged   in   the   Baudelairean   dialog   and   had   been   exposed   to   the   methods   of   painting   that   attracted   Aurier’s   senses   while   in   Paris.   Upon  leaving,  his  color  palette  changed  in  Arles,  but  components  remained  from  his   painting  practice  in  the  capital:  treating  the  picture  plane  not  as  a  translation  of  an   optical  phenomena,  but  rather  as  a  sensorial  body  of  medium.                                                                                                                     491  Cheetham  15.         259   CHAPTER  6:  CONCLUSION     Van  Gogh  accomplished  significant  goals  while  painting  in  Paris,  though  some   of   his   well-­‐developed   imagery—Bridges   Across   the   Seine   at   Asnières   (1887),   Factories  at  Clichy  (1887),  Factory  at  Clichy  (1887),  and  Patch  of  Grass  (April-­‐June   1887)—does  not  necessarily  figure  into  discussions  regarding  the  canonical  paintings   of  the  artist’s  body  of  work.  Between  the  dark,  modeled  forms  of  The  Potato  Eaters   (1885)  and  the  saturated  color  and  movement   in  Sower  (June  1888),  the  imagery   that  attributes  to  the  artist’s  radical  re-­‐conception  of  color,  form,  and  composition   are  those  he  developed  in  Paris.  Attention  to  the  Paris-­‐period  not  only  locates  Van   Gogh’s   pictorial   development   within   the   context   of   the   Impressionists   and   Neo-­‐ Impressionists,  but  also  establishes  the  ways  in  which  the  artist  diverged  from  the   artistic  aims  of  the  Parisian  avant-­‐garde,  such  as  Claude  Monet  and  Camille  Pissarro,   as  he  developed  his  Symbolic  approach.       In  his  consideration  of  the  differences  between  Impressionist  and  Symbolist   aesthetics,  Richard  Shiff  concludes  that  Van  Gogh  did  not  create  his  Symbolic  canvas   by   suppressing   or   re-­‐evaluating   Impressionist   methods.492  The   Impressionist   and   Symbolist   approaches   overlap   in   a   key   way:   artists   subjectively   create   a   painterly                                                                                                                   492  Richard  Shiff,  “Impressionism  and  Symbolism,”  Cézanne  and  the  End  of  Impressionism:  A  Study  of   the  Theory,  Technique,  and  Critical  Evaluation  of  Modern  Art  (Chicago  and  London:  The  University  of   Chicago  Press,  1984)  39-­‐52.             260   reality  based  on  an  emotion  particular  to  their  temperament  to  which  spectators   from  any  period  can  respond  sympathetically.  For  Shiff,  an  artist  can  generate  an   ideal,   or   a   universal   truth,   through   both   the   Impressionist   and   Symbolist   method   because  the  subjective  can  lead  to  the  universal.  493  The  Impressionist  and  Symbolist   canvases  differ  because  the  viewer  experiences  an  impression  through  observation   and  the  symbolic  through  intuition;  the  former  emphasized  the  effect  and  the  latter   the  ideal.  The  Impressionists  maintained  individuality  by  responding  to  the  natural   world,  and  the  Symbolists  used  the  canvas  itself  as  a  means  to  address  a  state  of   mind.494  The  Symbolists  made  a  shift  from  an  experience  with  the  material  realm  to   an  encounter  with  the  artist’s  inner  mind-­‐set.  For  Félix  Fénéon,  Neo-­‐Impressionists   maintained  a  “distance  from  the  accidental  and  the  transitory,”  and,  for  G.-­‐Albert   Aurier,   the   Symbolists   treated   the   object   “as   a   sign   of   an   idea   perceived”   by   the   artist.495     With   these   concepts,   the   critics   underscored   the   relationship   between   Neo-­‐Impressionist  and  Symbolist  aesthetics  that  Shiff  highlights.  The  artist  can  arrive   at   the   symbolic   by   asserting   his   vision   over   the   transitory.496  Although   Van   Gogh                                                                                                                   493  Shiff  41  &  43.     494  Shiff  44,  46-­‐47.     495  Félix  Fénéon,  “Le  Néo-­‐impressionnisme  (1887),”  Symbolist  Art  Theories:  A  Critical  Anthology,  trans   and  ed.  Henri  Dorra  (Berkeley,  Los  Angeles  and  London:  University  of  California  Press,  1994)  162.  G.-­‐ Albert   Aurier,   ”Symbolism   in   Painting:   Paul   Gauguin   (1891)”   Symbolist   Art   Theories:   A   Critical   Anthology,   trans   and   ed.   Henri   Dorra   (Berkeley,   Los   Angeles   and   London:   University   of   California   Press,  1994)  200.   496  Shiff  50-­‐51.         261   aimed  to  capture  fleeting  affects,  such  as  wind  in  Patch,  the  artist  did  not  do  so  to   stage   an   atmospheric   environment.   Instead,   he   arrived   at   natural   occurrences   through   a   reduction   of   form   and   a   use   of   medium   that   signified,   rather   than   described,  the  idea.   I   find   that   the   artistic   currents   to   which   Van   Gogh   was   exposed   in   Paris   provided  him  with  the  ability  to  thoroughly  interrupt  the  transitory,  generating  an   ideal  that  the  artist  developed  through  his  subjective  lens.    The  above-­‐mentioned   paintings  are  rooted  in  an  observational  study  of  the  natural  world,  but  the  artist   privileged  his  temperament  in  the  creation  process,  mediated  the  temporal  through   his   experience,   and   generated   a   symbol.   On   the   banks   of   Asnières,   within   the   factories   of   Clichy,   or   among   the   grasses   of   Paris,   Van   Gogh   confounded   the   impression  and  the  symbol,  the  reactive  and  the  conceptual.  The  artist  drew  from  a   particular   circumstance—aspects   of   industry,   modern   life,   or   landscape—to   generate   a   universal   experience   of   labor   or   atmospheric   effects.   The   artist’s   paintings   effectively   generate   an   impression   related   to   his   concept,   not   to   the   object.     Van   Gogh’s   imagery   subsumed   the   experience   of   the   optical   within   the   symbolic.  Spatial  effects  such  as  a  confined  industrially  built  environment  in  Factory   at   Clichy   leads   to   an   experience   that   subverts   a   sense   of   depth   to   convey   the   restricted  reality  of  the  working  classes.  The  wind  in  Patch  does  not  grow  from  the         262   effect  of  light  and  shadow  on  the  surface,  but  from  the  surface  itself.  As  a  plane  of   abstract   marks,   Van   Gogh   used   the   flat   surface   to   indicate   the   motion   of   wind   through  the  form  of  the  paint  and  the  color  of  hue.  The  bright,  warm,  seemingly   straightforward  imagery  of  modern  life  in  Bridges  Across  the  Seine  and  Factories  at   Clichy,  give  way  to  a  complicated  sense  of  the  urban  landscape.  In  these  images,  the   artist  included  signs  of  the  industrial  world  that  convey  the  artist’s  understanding  of   the   environment,   not   an   observed   study,   to   emphasize   how   the   industrial   world   intervenes  in  the  natural.     In  these  ways,  Van  Gogh  created  a  distance  between  the  work  of  art  and  the   transitory,  as  Fénéon  described.  Within  this  distance,  the  artist’s  paintings  lead  from   the  artist’s  experience.  Van  Gogh  asserted  his  point-­‐of-­‐view  upon  his  engagement   with  the  material  world  and  constructed  an  ideal  the  viewer  can  realize  through  the   process   of   looking.   Van   Gogh   did   not   circumvent   the   particular   notion   of   labor,   industry,  or  the  natural  realm  to  consider  his  sense  of  seeing.  Instead,  he  used  the   specificity   of   the   city   and   its   environs   to   provide   the   framework   to   an   accessible   experience.   In   John   Berger’s   terms,   the   gap   between   what   we   see   and   what   we   know   will   never   be   reconciled,   and   that   when   we   look,   we   always   see   things   in   relation  to  ourselves.497    The  disparity  between  seeing  and  knowing  or  the  chasm   between  the  temporal  and  the  eternal   is  the  space   in  which  Van  Gogh’s   imagery                                                                                                                   497  John  Berger,  Ways  of  Seeing  (London:  British  Broadcasting  Corporation,  2003)  7-­‐9.         263   operates.  He  did  not  aim  to  settle  this  breach  in  understanding,  and  did  not  allow   the  transitory  to  acquiesce  to  the  symbolic.  Rather,  he  created  canvases  that  convey   the  essence  of  his  sense  of  perception  to  underscore  the  gap  between  seeing  and   knowing  and,  in  so  doing,  generate  the  symbolic.     Van  Gogh  came  to  Paris  to  create  a  market  niche  for  his  work  and  for  the   paintings  of  emerging  artists.  I  do  not  think  he  lived  in  Paris  long  enough  to  establish   his  work  in  the  market  in  order  to  sell  his  paintings.  Émile  Bernard  and  Théo  did  help   support  Aurier’s  critical  account  of  Vincent’s  work.    After  the  artist  left  Paris,  Théo   continued  to  support  Vincent’s  career.  Théo  rented  a  space  at  Père  Tanguy’s  home   to  store  paintings,  showed  his  brother’s  work  to  Pissarro  and  exhibition  organizers,   and  sent  completed  work  to  up-­‐coming  shows.498  Upon  Vincent’s  death,  Théo  was   frustrated   that   more   people   did   not   recognize   his   brother’s   work   while   he   was   alive.499  Although  the  painter  did  not  realize  all  of  the  accomplishments  he  set  for   himself  in  his  lifetime,  posthumously  his  paintings  foster  a  significant  component  of   the  art  market  today.  The  exposure  to  the  Parisian  avant-­‐garde  of  the  mid-­‐1880s  led   the  artist  to  create  images  that  garnered  some  of  the  highest  prices  in  the  modern   international   market.   In   1990,   Portrait   of   Dr.   Gachet   (1890)   sold   to   the   Japanese                                                                                                                   498  Théo  wrote  letter  792  to  Van  Gogh  from  Paris  on  July  16,  1889.   499  Chris  Stolwijk  and  Richard  Thomson,  Théo  van  Gogh,  1857-­‐1891:  Art  Dealer,  Collector  and  Brother   of  Vincent  (Zwolle:  Waanders  Publishers,  1999)  56.         264   Kobayashi  Gallery  for  82.5  million  dollars.500  At  the  time,  Dr.  Gachet  commanded  the   highest  auction  price  ever  paid.  Dr.  Gachet  remains  the  highest  bid  in  the  secondary   market  for  Van  Gogh’s  paintings,  but  was  surpassed  by  Cézanne’s  The  Card  Players   (1894-­‐1895).501  Most   recently,   Nature   Morte,   Vase   aux   marguerites   et   coquelicots   (June   1890)   sold   in   November   2014   for   over   61   million   dollars. 502  While   the   compositional  strategies  at  work  in  these  painting  developed  from  the  methods  Van   Gogh  studied  in  the  capital,  the  enduring  legacy  of  the  artist’s  Paris-­‐period  canvases   lies   not   in   technical   strategies,   although   they   are   paramount,   but   in   the   ways   in   which  Van  Gogh  developed  a  concept  of  perception  that  conflates  fleeting  effects   and  the  eternal  ideal.                                                                                                                           500  Suzanne  Muchnic,  “Van  Gogh  Painting  Sells  a  Record  82.5  Million,”  Los  Angeles  Times,  May  16,   1990.  http://articles.latimes.com/1990-­‐05-­‐16/news/mn-­‐262_1_van-­‐gogh.   501  The  Card  Players  sold  for  more  than  250  million  in  2012  when  George  Embiricos’s  collection  went   up  for  sale.  Jane  Lee,  “Cézanne’s  Card  Players  Shatters  Highest  Price  Ever  for  a  Work  of  Art,”  Forbes,   February  6,  2012.  http://www.forbes.com/sites/janelee/2012/02/06/cezannes-­‐card-­‐players-­‐shatters-­‐ record-­‐for-­‐highest-­‐price-­‐ever-­‐for-­‐a-­‐work-­‐of-­‐art/.   Carol   Vogel,   “Embirico’s   Collection   is   Selling   Some   Works,”   The   New   York   Times,   October   4,   2012.   http://www.nytimes.com/2012/10/05/arts/design/cezanne-­‐picasso-­‐and-­‐bacon-­‐works-­‐for-­‐ sale.html?_r=1.   502  Sotheby’s,  Impressionist  and  Modern  Art  Evening  Sale,  “Vincent  van  Gogh:  Nature  Morte,  Vase  aux   marguerites   et   coquelicots,”   November   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 An   Anthology   of   Changing   Ideas.   Edited   by   Charles   Harrison,   Paul   Wood   and   Jason   Gaiger.   Massachusetts,   Oxford   and   Victoria,   Australia:   Blackwell   Publishing,  1998.  554-­‐565.     -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐.  Germinal.  Translated  by  Havelock  Ellis.  Gloucester,  Massachusetts:  Doubleday   &  Company,  Inc.,  1968.     -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐.  Mon  Salon.  Art  in  Theory:  1815-­‐1900:  An  Anthology  of  Changing  Ideas.  Edited   by  Charles  Harrison,  Paul  Wood  and  Jason  Gaiger.  Massachusetts,  Oxford  and   Victoria,  Australia:  Blackwell  Publishing,  1998.  550-­‐554.     -­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐-­‐.  Nana.  Translated  by  Douglas  Parmée.  Oxford  and  New  York:  Oxford  University   Press,  1992.             274   APPENDIX:  IMAGES     Chapter  2:  From  the  Atelier  to  the  Avant-­‐Garde         Figure  1.  The  Discus  Thrower,  February  1886.  Chalk  on  paper,  56.2  x  44.3  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1364e.       275       Figure  2.  Female  Standing  Nude  Seen  from  the  Side,  January-­‐February  1886.   Pencil  on  Paper,  50.4  x  39.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1699.       276       Figure  3.    The  Potato  Eaters,  April-­‐May  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  82  x  114  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  82.           Figure  4.  Jozef  Israëls,  Peasant  Family  at  the  Table,  1882.     Oil  on  canvas,  71  x  105  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.       277       Figure  5.  Standing  Male  and  Seated  Female  Nudes,  March-­‐May  1886.  Chalk  on   paper,  31.4  x  47.5  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1363ar.         278       Figure  6.  Studies  of  a  Seated  Girl,  L’Ecorché  and  Venus,  March-­‐May  1886.     Chalk  on  paper,  47.5  x  62  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1366r.         279       Figure  7.  Torso  of  Venus,  June  1886.  Oil  on  cardboard,  46.4  x  38.1  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  216b.         280       Figure  8.    Lane  at  the  Jardin  du  Luxembourg,  June/July  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  27.5  x  46  cm.     Sterling  and  Francine  Clark  Institute,  Williamstown,  Massachusetts.  F  223.             281       Figure  9.    Bridges  across  the  Seine  at  Asnières,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  52  x  65  cm.     Foundation  E.G.  Bührle  Collection,  Zurich.         282       Figure  10.  Boulevard  de  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  55  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  292.     283       Figure  11.  The  Restaurant  de  la  Sirène  at  Asnières,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  65  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  313.       284       Figure  12.  The  Sower  (After  Millet),  April  1881.     Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  48.1  cm  x  36.7  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  830.         285       Figure  13.  Jean-­‐François  Millet,  The  Sower,  1850.     Oil  on  canvas,  101.6  x  82.6  cm.    Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.         286       Figure  14.  Peasant  Women  Digging  up  Potatoes,  August  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  31.5  x  42.5  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  97.       287       Figure  15.  Pietà  (after  Delacroix),  September  1889.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  cm  x  60.5  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  630.         288       Figure  16.  View  of  Het  Steen,  December  1885.     Pen  and  ink,  chalk,  pencil,  on  paper,  13.1  cm  x  21.1  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  977.       289       Figure  17.    Portrait  of  an  Old  Man,  December  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  44.4  cm  x  33.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  205.       290       Figure  18.  Head  of  a  Skeleton  with  a  Burning  Cigarette,  January-­‐February  1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  32.3  x  28.4  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.    F  212.     291       Figure  19.  Karel  Verlat,  Ariadne  et  amor,  1880.           Figure  20.  Eugène  Siberdt,  La  juene  orpheline,  1886.  Oil  on  panel,  52  x  37  cm.       292       Figure  21.  Rembrandt,  The  Pilgrims  at  Emmaus,  1648.     Oil  on  canvas,  68  cm  x  65  cm.   Louvre,  Paris.         293       Figure  22.  Claude  Monet,  Vétheuil,  c.  1878-­‐1881.     Oil  on  canvas.  Private  Collection,  England.       294       Figure  23.  Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  Lunch  at  the  Restaurant  Fournaise     (The  Boater’s  Lunch  or  Les  canotiers),  1875.     Oil  on  canvas,  55  x  65.9  cm.  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Chicago.         295       Figure  24.  Edgar  Degas,  Femme  accoundée  près  d’un  pot  de  fleurs,  1865.    Oil  on  canvas,  73.7  x  92.7  x  46.2  cm.   The  Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York  City.       296       Figure  25.  Claude  Monet,  Tempête  sur  les  côtes  de  Belle-­‐Isle,  1886.       Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay.           Figure  26.  Claude  Monet,  Pyramides  de  Port-­‐Coton,  Belle-­‐Isle,  1886.      Oil  on  canvas,  65.5  x  65.5  cm.  Private  collection.     297       Figure  27.  Paul  Gauguin,  Baigneurs,  nd.   Private  Collection.  Mr.  &  Mrs.  B.E.  Bensiger,  Chicago.       298       Figure  28.  La  Guinguette,  October  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  49  x  64  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  238.         299       Figure  29.  Bords  de  rivière  au  printemps:  pont  de  Clichy,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  50  x  60  cm.  Museum  of  Art,  Dallas,  F  352.         300       Figure  30.    Bank  of  the  Seine,  summer  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  32  x  45.  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  293.     301       Figure  31.  Femme  dans  un  jardin,  summer  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  48  x  60  cm.  Private  collection.  F  368.         302       Figure  32.  George  Seurat,     Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island  of  La  Grande-­‐Jatte,  1884-­‐1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  205.7  x  305.7  cm.     The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Illinois.             303       Figure  33.  Camille  Pissarro,  Apple  Picking,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  128  x  128  cm.     Ohara,  Museum  of  Art,  Kurashiki,  Japan.       304       Figure  34.  Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne.       305       Figure  35.    Interior  of  a  Restaurant,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  56.5  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.         306       Figure  36.  Claude  Monet,  Impression:  Sunrise,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  48  x  63  cm.     Musée  Marmottan,  Paris.           307       Figure  37.  Claude  Monet,  Boulevard  des  Capucines,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  79.4  x  59  cm.     The  Nelson-­‐Arkins  Museum  of  Art,  Kansas  City,  Missouri.             308       Figures  38.  Edgar  Degas,  Girl  Drying  Herself,  from  Suite  of  Nudes,  1885.    Pastel  on  paper,  80.1  x  51.2  cm.    National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington  DC.         309       Figures  39.  Edgar  Degas,  The  Baker’s  Wife,  from  Suite  of  Nudes,  1885.     Pastel  on  paper,  67  x  52.1  cm.     The  Henry  and  Rose  Perlman  Foundation.       310       Figure  40.  Georges  Seurat,  The  Harbor  at  Grandcamp,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81.2  cm.  Private  Collection.             311       Figure  41.  Paul  Signac,  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,   1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.1  x  64.1  cm.     Collection  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ray  Dolby,  San  Francisco.       312       Figure  42.  Paul  Gauguin,  Edge  of  the  Pond,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  81  x  65  cm.    Civica  Galleria  d’Arte  Moderna,  Milan.       313       Figure  43.  Camille  Pissarro,  View  from  My  Window  in  Cloudy  Weather,     1886-­‐1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  80  cm.   The  Ashmolean  Museum,  Oxford.         314       Figure  44.  Paul  Gauguin,  Women  Bathing,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  38.1  x  46.2  cm.    The  National  Museum  of  Western  Art,  Tokyo.           315       Figure  45.  Plaster  Cast  of  a  Woman’s  Torso,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  40.5  x  27  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.    F  216g.       316                 Figure  46.  Reclining  Nude,  January-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  59.7  x  73.7.     The  Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  328.       317       Figure  47.  Francisco  Goya,  La  maja  desnuda,  c.  1797-­‐1800  .     Oil  on  canvas,  97  x  190  cm.   Museo  del  Prado,  Spain.               318       Figure  48.  Claude  Monet,     Les  bains  de  la  Grenouillère,  1869.    Oil  on  canvas,  74.6  x  99.7  cm.    Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York.               Figure  49.  Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  La  Grenouillère,  1869.     Oil  on  canvas,  66.5  x  81  cm.     National  Museum,  Stockholm.       319                       Figure  50.  Comparison.         320       Figure  51.  Claude  Monet,  Train  in  the  Countryside,  circa  1870.     Oil  on  canvas,  19.68  ×  25.59  in.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.         Figure  52.  Claude  Monet,  The  Railway  Bridge  from  the  Port,  1873.     Oil  on  canvas,  66  x  99  cm.                     321   Chapter  3:  New  Consideration  of  Van  Gogh’s  Paris  Exhibitions             Figure  1.    Map  of  Montmartre,  Clichy  and  Asnières  from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐ Ovcharov’s  Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37.         Montmartre) Clichy) Asnières) For4fica4ons)at)the) boundary)of)Montmartre)   322       Figure  2.  Map  detail  of  Clichy  and  Asnières  from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s     Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37.     1.#Gas#tanks#at# Clichy# # 2.#Landing#cranes# for#the#gas#factory# at#Clichy# # 4.#Émile#Bernard’s# family#home# # 5.#Paul#Signac’s# family#home# # 6.#Château#Voyer# d’Argenson# # 7.#Voyer# d’Argenson#Park# #   323       Figure  3.  Map  detail  of  Montmartre  from  Bogomila  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov’s     Van  Gogh  A  Paris  (1988),  pages  36-­‐37.         .       15.$Grand$Bouillon$ Restaurant$$ du$Chalet$ $ 16.$Signac’s$Studio$ $ 17.$Seurat’s$Studio$ $ 19.$Café$ Tambourin$ $ 20.$Théo$and$ Vincent’s$ apartment$ $ 28.$BouFque$of$ Père$Tanguy$ $ $   324       Figure  4.  Agostina  Segatori  au  café  du  Tambourin,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  55.4  x  46.5  cm.  Vincent  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  370.             325       Figure  5.  Basket  of  Pansies,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  55.5  cm.       Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  244.       326       Figure  6.  Fritillaires,  couronne  impériale  dans  un  vase  de  cuivre,  April-­‐May  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  75.5  x  60.5  cm.    Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  213.       327       Figure  7.  Portrait  of  Etienne-­‐Lucien  Martin,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.5  x  54.5  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  289.       328       Figure  8.  Émile  Bernard,  Portrait  of  the  Artist’s  Grandmother,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  53  x  64  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.       329       Figure  9.  Émile  Bernard,  Ragpickers  at  Clichy,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  39  x  59  cm.  Private  Collection.     (A  color  reproduction  is  available  in  Welsh-­‐Ovcharov,     Van  Gogh  A  Paris,  page  201.)       330       Figure  10.    Factories  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.9  x  72.8  cm.     The  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum.  F  317.     331       Figure  11.    Factory  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  54  cm.  Barnes   Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  318.       332       Figure  12.    Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  fall  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  92  x  75  cm.  Musée  Rodin,  Paris.  F  363.       333       Figure  13.  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  at  Asnières,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  75  x  112.5  cm.    Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  314.       334       Figure  14.  Camille  Pissarro,  Apple  Picking,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  128  x  128  cm.     Ohara,  Museum  of  Art,  Kurashiki,  Japan.       335       Figure  15.  Lucien  Pissarro,  Van  Gogh  in  Conversation  with  Félix  Fénéon,     black  crayon,  circa  1886-­‐1888.       336       Figure  16.  Louis-­‐Emile  Anquetin,  Old  Peasant,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas.       337       Figure  17.  Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  1887.  Oil  in  canvas,  43  x  61.     Metropolitan  Museum  of  Art,  New  York  City.  F  375.       338       Figure  18.  Sunflowers  Gone  to  Seed,  1887.  Oil  in  canvas,  50  x  60.     Kuntsmuseum,  Bern,  Switzerland.  F  376.       339       Figure  19.  Basket  with  Potatoes,  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  44.5  x  60  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  100.           340       Figure  20.  Le  Cinéraire  (The  Funeral),  July-­‐August  1886.  Oil  in  canvas,  54.5  x  46.   Museum  Boymans-­‐van  Beuningen,  Rotterdam.  F  282.       341       Figure  21.  Roses  Trémières  dans  une  cruche  (Hollyhocks  in  a  Jug),     August-­‐September  1886.  Oil  in  canvas,  94  x  51.   Kunsthaus,  Zurich.  F  235.       342       Figure  22.  Fleurs  et  Tournesols  (Roses  and  Sunflowers),  fall  1886.     Oil  in  canvas,  50  x  61.   Städtische  Kunsthalle,  Mannheim.  F  250.       343       Figure  23.  Gustave  Courbet,  Hollyhocks  in  a  Copper  Bowl,  1872.     Oil  on  canvas,  60  x  49  cm.     Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.       344       Figure  24.  Pierre-­‐August  Renoir,  Mixed  Flowers  in  an  Earthenware  Pot,  ca.  1869.   Oil  on  canvas,  64.9  x  54.2  cm.  Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Boston.       345       Figure  25.  Armand  Guillaumin,  Nature  morte  aux  chrysanthèmes,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  75  x  60  cm.     Musée  du  Petit  Palais,  Geneva.       346       Figure  26.  Claude  Monet,  Vase  of  Flowers,  ca.  1881-­‐1882.     Oil  on  canvas,  100.4  x  81.9  cm.     Courtauld  Gallery,  London.       347       Figure  27.  Paul  Signac,  Nature  morte:  oranges,  pomme  et  livre  Au  soleil,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  32.5  x  46.5  cm.     Staatliche  Museen,  Berlin.       348       Figure  28.  Grapes,  Lemons,  Pears  and  Apples,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  55.2  cm.  The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago,  Illinois.  F  382.           349       Figure  29.  Head  of  a  Peasant  Woman  with  a  Day  Cap,  March  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  43  x  33.5  cm.     Rijksmuseum,  Amsterdam.       350       Figure    30.  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  1887.       Oil  on  canvas.  F  263.       351       Figure  31.  Émile  Bernard,  Portrait  of  Père  Tanguy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas.       352       Figure  32.  The  Parsonage  Garden  in  Snow,  1885.     Oil  on  canvas  on  panel,  59  x  78  cm.     Norton  Simon  Art  Foundation,  Pasadena.       353         Figure  33.  Émile  Bernard,  Verger  à  Pont-­‐Aven,  August  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  52  x  53  cm.     Private  Collection.       354       Figure  34.  Émile  Bernard  and  Vincent  van  Gogh  (his  back  to  the  camera)     along  the  Seine  in  Asnières.       355       Figure  35.  Paul  Signac,  Pierre  Hâlé’s  Windmill,  Saint-­‐Briac,  1884.     Oil  on  canvas,  60  x  92  cm.  Private  Collection.     (Sorry  for  the  web-­‐site  stamp—it  is  the  only  Internet  image)             356       Figure  36.  Paul  Signac,  Brisk  Breeze  from  the  North  ¼  Northwest,  Saint-­‐Briac,   1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.1  x  64.1  cm.     Collection  of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Ray  Dolby,  San  Francisco.       357       Figure  37.  Claude  Monet,  Apple  Trees  in  Bloom  beside  the  Water,  1880.     Oil  on  canvas,  73x  60  cm.     Private  Collection.       358       Figure  38.  Paul  Signac,  La  Seine  à  Asnières:  la  berge,  November  1885.     Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  100  cm.     Private  Collection,  Paris.       359       Figure  39.  Paul  Signac,  Paris.  Boulevard  de  Clichy.  La  neige,  January  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  65.5  cm.     The  Minneapolis  Institute  of  the  Arts,  Minneapolis.       360       Figure  40.  Claude  Monet,  Studio  Boat,  1874.  Oil  on  canvas.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.       361       Figure  41.  Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne.       362       Figure  42.  Paul  Signac,  Sunlight,  Quai  de  Clichy,  Opus,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  65  cm.     The  Baltimore  Museum  of  Art,  Maryland.       363       Figure  43.  Émile  Bernard,  Les  Chiffonniers:  Ponts  de  fer  à  Asnières,  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.9  x  54.2  cm.     The  Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York  City.             364       Figure  44.  Albert  Fernique,  Plan  de  l’usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,  c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.     Seine% Gas%Tanks% Usine%de%la% ville%de%Paris% Gas%Factory% Atelier%Charronnage%   365       Figure  45.  Albert  Fernique,  Atelier  Charronnage  de  l’usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,     c  1878-­‐1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.         366       Figure  46.  Albert  Fernique,  Grues  de  débarquement,  L’Usine  à  gaz  de  Clichy,     c  1878-­‐1880.  Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.         Figure  47.  Camille  Pissarro,  Barge  at  La  Roche-­‐Guyon,  circa  1865.     Museé  Pissarro,  Pontoise.           367       Figure  48.  Camille  Pissarro,  L’Ile  Lacroix,  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  44  x  55  cm.   Philadelphia  Museum  of  Art,  Pennsylvania.           368       Figure  49.  Self-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  December  1887-­‐February  1888.     Oil  on  canvas,  65.1  x  50  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  522.                               369   Chapter  4:  Agriculture  and  Industry  in  Van  Gogh’s     Montmartre  and  Clichy  Imagery             Figure  1.  Weaver  with  a  baby  in  a  high  chair,  1884.  Pencil  pen  in  brown  ink,   heightened  with  opaque  watercolor,  on  wove  paper,  32  x  40  cm.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1118.       370       Figure  2.  Interior  of  a  Restaurant,  summer  1887.    Oil  on  canvas,  45.5  x  56.5  cm.  Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  342.         Figure  3.  Boulevard  de  Clichy,  February-­‐March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  55  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  292.     371       Figure  4.  Montmartre:  Windmills  and  Allotments,  March-­‐April  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.2  x  81.4  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  346.                   Figure  5.    Factories  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53.9  x  72.8  cm.     The  Saint  Louis  Art  Museum.  F  317.     372       Figure  6.  The  View  from  Vincent’s  Room,  rue  Lepic,  spring  1887.     Oil  on  board,  46  x  38.  Private  collection.    F  341a.       373       Figure  7.  View  from  Théo’s  Apartment,  March-­‐April  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  45.9  x  38.1.     Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  341.       374       Figure  8.  Moulin  Radet  dit  de  la  Galette  à  Paris,  1923.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       375       Figure  9.  Eugène  Atget,Montmartre,  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  Rue  Lepic,  1899.   (I  think  this  may  be  Le  Radet.)   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       376       Figure  10.  Eugène  Atget,Montmartre,  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  Rue  Lepic,  1899.   (I  think  this  may  be  Le  Blute-­‐fin.)   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       377       Figure  11.  View  of  Paris,  from  Montmartre,    late  summer  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  38.5  x  61.5  cm.       Kunstmuseum,  Basel.  F  262.       378       Figure  12.  Terrace  and  Observation  Deck  at  the     Moulin  de  Blute-­‐fin,  Montmartre,  early  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  43.6  x  33  cm.       The  Art  Institute  of  Chicago.  F  272.       379       Figure  13.  Plan  of  Paris:  Montmartre,  the  rue  Lepic,  and  the  Moulin  de  la  Galette.   Archives  numérisées  de  Paris,  PP/11834/E.     Théo%and%% Van%Gogh’s% apartment%on% the%rue%Lepic% Moulin%% de%la%Gale9e%   380       Figure  14.  Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Le  Moulin  de  la  Galette  et  la  montée  de  la  rue   Lepic  étant  placé  au  coin  de  la  rue  d'Orchamp  (I  think  this  is  Le  Radet),  1895.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.     381       Figure  15.  Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Rue  Lepic  à  Montmartre:     Entrée  du  Moulin  Debray  (Bal  public)     (Le  Blute-­‐fin),  1880.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       382       Figure  16.  Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Impasse  des  2  frères  rue  Lepic,  1884.   (I  think  this  is  Le  Radet.)    Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       383       Figure  17.  Jules-­‐Adolphe  Chauvet,  Montmartre  Le  Moulin  Des  frères  Debray,   Restaurant  Guinguette,  1888.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.       384       Figure  18.  Moulin  de  la  Galette  (Le  Moulin  Le  Radet,  vue  de  la  rue  Girardon),     mid-­‐October  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  38.5  x  46.   Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  227.       385       Figure  19.  Pierre-­‐Auguste  Renoir,  Bal  du  moulin  de  la  Galette,  1876.     Oil  on  canvas,  131  x  175  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.             386       Figure  20.  La  Guinguette  du  Moulin  Le  Radet,  mid-­‐October  1886.     Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  chalk,  on  paper,  38.5  x  52  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1407.         Figure  21.  La  Guinguette,  mid-­‐October  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  49  x  64  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.  F  238.       387       Figure  22.  The  Hill  of  Montmartre,  April-­‐May  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  38.1  x  61.1  cm.     Kröller-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  266.                 388       Figure  23.  The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry,  June-­‐July    1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  32  x  41  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  229.             Figure  24.  The  Hill  of  Montmartre  with  Stone  Quarry,  June-­‐July    1886.     Oil  on  canvas,  56.3  x  62.6  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  230.         389       Figure  25.  John  Constable,  The  Cornfield,  1826.  Oil  on  canvas.   The  National  Gallery,  London.       390       Figure  26.  Le  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  18  x  15  inches.   Glasgow  Art  Gallery  and  Museum.         Figure  27.  Le  Blute-­‐-­‐-­‐fin:  le  Moulin  de  la  Galette,  March  1887.     Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  38  cm.       The  Carnegie  Museum  of  Art,  Pittsburg.  F  348.                                         391   392           Figure  28.  Le  Moulin  de  Blute-­‐-­‐-­‐fin,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas.  Fundatie  museum,  Zwolle.   393           Figure  29.  Vegetable  Gardens  of  Montmartre,  summer  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  96  x  120  cm.   Stedelijk  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  350.   394           Figure  30.  Pierre  Vidal,  detail  from  the  illustrated  book   La  Vie  à  Montmartre  by  Georges  Montorgueil,  1899.   Bibliothèque  nationale  de  France.   395           Figure  31.  Paul  Signac,  Rue  Caulaincourt.  Moulins  à  Montmartre,  1884.   Oil  on  canvas,  35  x  27  cm.   Musée  Carnavalet,  Paris.   396           Figure  32.  Flower  Beds  in  Holland,  c.  1883.  Oil  on  canvas,  48.9  x  66  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington  DC.   397           Figure  33.  Camille  Pissarro,  The  Gardens  of  l’Hermitage,  Pontoise,  c.  1867.   Oil  on  canvas.  National  Gallery,  Prague.   398           Figure  34.  Wheatfield  with  Patridge,  June-­‐-­‐-­‐July  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  53.7  x  65.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  310.   399           Figure  35.  Sheaves  of  Wheat,  July-­‐-­‐-­‐August  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  40.2  x  30  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  193.   400           Figure  36.  Peasant  Woman  Binding  Sheaves,  July-­‐-­‐-­‐September  1885.   Chalk  on  paper,  56.3  cm  x  44.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1266.   401           Figure  37.  Peasant  Woman  Digging,  July-­‐-­‐-­‐September  1885.   Chalk  on  paper,  55.7  x  41  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1255.   402           Figure  38.  The  Sower  (After  Millet),  April  1881.   Pencil,  pen  and  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  48.1  x  36.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  830.   403           Figure  39.  Jean-­‐-­‐-­‐François  Millet,  The  Gleaners,  1857.   Oil  on  canvas,  83.3  x  111.8  cm.   Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.   404           Figure  40.  Camille  Pissarro,  Haymaking,  Érgany,  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  55  x  66  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.   405           Figure  41.  Gate  in  the  Paris  Rampart,  summer  1887.   Pencil,  pen  and  ink  and  watercolor  on  paper,  24.1  x  31.6  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.   F  1401.   406           Figure  42.  Road  Running  Beside  the  Paris  Ramparts,  June  1887.   Pencil,  watercolor,  chalk,  brush  and  (oil?)  paint,  pen  and  ink,   on  paper,  39.7  cm  x  53.8  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1400.   407           Figure  43.  Fortifications  of  Paris  with  Houses,  1887.  Watercolor,  black  chalk,  and   gouache,  heightened  with  pencil  on  laid  paper,  24.1  x  31.6  cm.   Whitworth  Art  Gallery,  University  of  Manchester.   F  1403.   408           Figure  44.  Fortifications  of  Paris,  1887.  Watercolor,  black  chalk,  and  gouache,   heightened  with  pencil  on  laid  paper,  39.5  x  54  cm.   Location  unknown.  F  1402.   409           Figure  45.   Lucien  Pissarro,  Sur  les  fortifications,  1886.   Pencil  and  black  chalk,  19.6  x  29.2  cm.   Ashmolean  Museum,  Oxford.   410           Figure  46.   Factory  at  Clichy,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  54  cm.   Barnes  Foundation,  Philadelphia.  F  318.   411           Figure  47.   Allotment  with  Sunflower,  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  43.2  x  36.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  388v.   412           Figure  48.  Coke  Factory  in  the  Borinage,  July-­‐-­‐-­‐August  1879.   Pencil  and  watercolor  on  paper,  26.4  x  37.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  1040.   413           Figure  49.   Gasworks,  The  Hague,  March  1882.   Pencil,  brush  and  ink,  watercolor,  on  paper,  23.8  cm  x  33.8  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  924.   414           Figure  50.  Édouard  Manet,  A  Bar  at  the  Folies  Bergère,  1882.   Oil  on  canvas,  96  x  130  cm.   Courtauld  Gallery,  London.   415           Figure  51.  Edgar  Degas,  The  Song  of  the  Dog,  1875-­‐-­‐-­‐1877.   Oil  on  canvas,  51.8  x  42.6  cm.   Private  Collection.   416               Above:  Figure  52.  Verrerie  du  Pont  de  Clichy,   documented  by  Michel  Baltzer  c.  1900.  Published  by  Jim  Friant.   417           Figure  53.   Claude  Monet,  Men  Unloading  Coal,  1873-­‐-­‐-­‐1875.   Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  66  cm.   Museé  d’Orsay,  Paris.   418           Figure  54.   Émile  Bernard  (facing)  and  Vincent  Van  Gogh  on  the  banks  of   Asnières,  dated  1886,  probably  1887.   Vincent  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.   419           Figure  55.  Le  Pont  à  Asnières,  summer  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  53  x  73  cm.   Collection  of  Dominique  de  Menil,  Houston.  F  240.   420           Figure  56.  Paul  Signac,  The  Gas  Tanks  at  Clichy,  1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  65  x  81  cm.   National  gallery  of  Victoria,  Melbourne.   421           Figure  57.   Émile  Bernard.  Vue  du  pont  d’Asnières  (View  from  the  Bridge  of   Asnières),  late  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  38  x  46  cm.  Museé  des  Beaux-­‐-­‐-­‐Arts.   422           Figure  58.   Camille  Pissarro,  Factories  near  Pontoise,  1873.  Oil  on  canvas.   Museum  of  Fine  Arts,  Springfield,  Massachusetts.   423       Chapter  5:  Symb  olism  in  Paris         Figure  1.  Sower,  June  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  64.2  x  80.3  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  422.   424             Figure  2.  Fourteen  Flowers  in  a  Vase,  August  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  93  x  73  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  454.   425           Figure  3.  Terrace  of  a  Café  at  Night,  September  1888.   Oil  on  canvas,  80.7  x  65.3  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  467.   426           Figure  4.  The  Night  Café,  September  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  70  x  89  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  The  Netherlands.  F  463.   427           Figure  5.  The  Potato  Eaters,  April-­‐-­‐-­‐May  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  82  x  114  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  82.   428           Figure  6.  Starry  Night,  1889.  Oil  on  canvas,  73.7  x  92.1  cm.   Museum  of  Modern  Art,  New  York  City.  F  612.   429           Figure  7.   Park  at  Asnières  in  Spring,  spring  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  1887.  50  x  65  cm.  F  362.   430           Figure  8.  Patch  of  Grass,  April-­‐-­‐-­‐June  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  30.8  x  39.7  cm.   Kröller-­‐-­‐-­‐Müller  Museum,  Netherlands.  F  583.   431           Figure  9.  Path  in  the  Woods,  May-­‐-­‐-­‐July  1888.  Oil  on  canvas,  45.3  x  37.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  309.   432           Figure  10.   Exterior  of  a  Restaurant  in  Asnières,  summer  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  18.5  x  27  cm.  Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  321.   433           Figure  11.   Paul  Gauguin,  Vision  After  the  Sermon,  1888.   Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  92  cm.   Scottish  National  Gallery,  Edinburgh.   434           Figure  12.  Romans  parisiens,  fall  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  73  x  93  cm.   Private  Collection.  F  359.   435             Figure  13.  Still  Life  with  Bible,  October  1885.  Oil  on  canvas,  65.7  x  78.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  117.   436           Figure  14.  Three  Novels,  January-­‐-­‐-­‐February  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  31.1  x  48.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  335.   437             Figure  15.  Gustave  Moreau,  The  Apparition,  1876.   Watercolor,  72.2  x  106  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.   438           Figure  16.  Sous-­‐-­‐-­‐Bois,  summer  1887.  Oil  on  canvas,  46  x  55.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  309.   439           Figure  17.  Avenue  of  Poplars  in  Autumn,  October  1884.   Oil  on  canvas,  99  x  65.7  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  122.   440               Figure  18.  Self-­‐-­‐-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  46.5  x  38.5  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  181.   441           Figure  19.  Self-­‐-­‐-­‐Portrait  as  a  Painter,  December  1887-­‐-­‐-­‐Febraury  1888.   Oil  on  canvas,  65.1  x  50  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  522.   442           Figure  20.  Camille  Pissarro,  Pond  at  Montfoucault,  1874.   Oil  on  canvas,  53.5  x  65.5  cm.  Private  Collection.   443           Figure  21.   Claude  Monet,  Woman  with  a  Parasol—   Madame  Monet  and  Her  Son,  1875.  Oil  on  canvas,  100  x  81  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  DC.   444           Figure  22.   Café  table  with  Absinthe,  February-­‐-­‐-­‐March  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  46.3  x  33.2  cm.   Van  Gogh  Museum,  Amsterdam.  F  339.   445           Figure  23.   Bertall,  Manet  as  Jesus  with  his  Disciples,  1870.   446           Figure  24.   Georges  Seurat,   Sunday  Afternoon  on  the  Island  of  La  Grande  Jatte,  1884-­‐-­‐-­‐1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  207.5  x  308.1  cm.  Art  Institute,  Chicago.   447           Figure  25.   Way  in  the  Voyer  d’Argenson  Park  in  Asnières,  spring  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  59  x  81  cm.   Yale  University  Art  Gallery,  New  Haven,  Connecticut.   448           Figure  26.   Édouard  Manet,  Olympia,  1863.   Oil  on  canvas,  190  x  130  cm.  Musée  d’Orsay,  Paris.   449           Figure  27.   Claude  Monet,  Woman  with  a  Parasol—   Madame  Monet  and  Her  Son,  1875.  Oil  on  canvas,  100  x  81  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Art,  Washington,  DC.   450           Figure  28.   Berthe  Morisot,  The  Wet  Nurse  Angèle  Feeding  Julie  Manet,  1880.   Oil  on  canvas,  50.2  x  61  cm.   Private  Collection,  New  York.   451           Figure  29.   Camille  Pissarro,  The  Shepherdess,  1881.   Oil  on  canvas,  81  x  64.7  cm.   Museé  d’Orsay,  Paris.   452           Figure  30.   Camille  Pissarro,  Le  Chemin  de  fer  de  DIeppe,  1886.   Oil  on  canvas,  54  x  65  cm.   Private  Collection.   453             Figure  31.  Georges  Seurat,  La  Luzerne,  Saint-­‐-­‐-­‐Denis:  champ  de  coquelicots,   1885-­‐-­‐-­‐1886.  Oil  on  canvas,  64  x  81  cm.   National  Galleries  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh.   454           Figure  32.   Paul  Gauguin,  Tropical  Vegetation,  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  116  x  89  cm.   National  Gallery  of  Scotland,  Edinburgh.   455           Figure  33.   The  Restaurant  Rispal  in  Asnières,  Summer  1887.   Oil  on  canvas,  72  x  60  cm.   Nelson-­‐-­‐-­‐Atkins  Museum  of  Art,  Kansas  City.   Christa DiMarco's Dissertation Front Matter Christa DiMarco's Dissertation Body, Painting in Paris, Vincent van Gogh, 1886-1888 Christa DiMarco's Dissertation Bibliography Christa DiMarco's APPENDIX Images Christa DiMarco's Appendix Images Part II 
work_3oxui22exzftbmtkxwsqdpljxy	----	CEZANNE AS A "DECORATIVE" PAINTER by DANA ALEXANDRA FREEMAN Diploma i n A r t H i s t o r y , The U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h Columbia, 1977 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS i n THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Department o f F i n e A r t s ) We a c c e p t t h i s t h e s i s as c o n f o r m i n g t o t h e r e q u i r e d s t a n d a r d THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA November 19 8 2 (c) Dana A l e x a n d r a Freeman, 19 8 2 In presenting t h i s thesis i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the Library s h a l l make i t f r e e l y available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of t h i s thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. I t i s understood that copying or publication of t h i s thesis for f i n a n c i a l gain s h a l l not be allowed without my written permission. / Department of Fine Arts The University of B r i t i s h Columbia 1956 Main Mall Vancouver, Canada V6T 1Y3 Date 18 Oct. 1982 DE-6 (3/81) - r i i - ABSTRACT The thesis focuses on a s i g n i f i c a n t , but neglected aspect of Cezanne's oeuvre: the r e l a t i o n s h i p between Cezanne's pain- tings and the decorative aesthetic of the 1890s. Since the meaning of the term "decorative" underwent s i g - n i f i c a n t changes during the l a s t quarter of the 19th century and the f i r s t decade of the 20th century, p a r t i c u l a r attention i s paid to problems of d e f i n i t i o n i n Chapter I, Part 1. This section shows that the d e f i n i t i o n of what was "true" decoration, and the increasing emphasis on decoration, were related to the process of r e v i t a l i z a t i o n of the i n d u s t r i a l and decorative arts i n France. Chapter I, Part 2 establishes that the general tendency of the avant-garde painting i n the decade 1890-1900 was to be "decorative." The most innovative manifestation of t h i s trend was the introduction of the aesthetics of "decoration" into easel painting. The transformation of painting from tableau into "decoration" was a r e f l e c t i o n of an anti-Natural- i s t , a n t i - p o s i t i v i s t trend. The second chapter of the thesis i s devoted to Cezanne's p o s i t i o n v i s - a - v i s the "decorative trend." Chapter II, Part 1 analyses the c r i t i c i s m of Cezanne's contemporaries. Special attention i s given to the writer's p a r t i c u l a r positions on aesthetics, philosophy, r e l i g i o n , p o l i t i c s (whenever possible), as well as to changes i n these positions. Chapter I I , Part 2 analyses Cezanne's l e t t e r s (considered as the only authentic source of true quotations from the a r t i s t ) and paintings. The conclusion i s that Cezanne not only belongs to the general tendency toward the "decorative," but that he can be considered among i t s i n i t i a t o r s . Moreover, the present author proposes that C§zanne was part of the movement that introduced the aesthetic of "decoration" into easel painting. Q u a l i t i e s such as the interplay between two-dimensionality, and three- dimensionality, the accent on contours, the general aspect of b a s - r e l i e f , or even of tapestry (often noticed by his contem- poraries, as well as by l a t e r c r i t i c s ) , can be explained by Cezanne's intention to apply to his paintings a "decoration paradigm." Special attention i s placed on the method of "colour modulation" and i t s possible r e l a t i o n to similar meth- ods used i n 18th century French tapestries, or those recom- mended for tapestries i n t h e o r e t i c a l works by 19th century French reformers of the decorative a r t s . - i v - TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT i i LIST OF FIGURES . v i ACKNOWLEDGEMENT ix INTRODUCTION . 1 I THE CONCEPT OF DECORATION IN LATE NINETEENTH CENTURY ART AND THE NEW TENDENCIES IN THE PAINTING OF THE 1890s . 8 Introduction . . 8 Part 1: The R e v i t a l i z a t i o n of the I n d u s t r i a l Arts i n France and i t s Role i n Redifining the Concept of Decoration.. .,,10 Part 2: The "New Tendencies" i n the Painting of the 1890s 51 Introduction 51 A. The new "decorative" tendency i n the French avant-garde painting of the 1880s and early 1890s and the " I d e a l i s t Renaissance.". 52 B. The new "decorative" tendency as defined by c r i t i c s i n the early 1890s: Aurier versus Lecomte ,60 C. The a r t i s t s who applied decorative - V - v arts p r i n c i p l e s to easel painting by the early 1890s....... 71 D. The mid and late 1890s 76 II CEZANNE AND THE "DECORATIVE" TREND..... 90 Part 1: Cezanne Seen by His Contemporaries as a "Decorative" Painter..... 90 . Introduction;;•.. . . . . 90 Part 2: Cezanne and the "Decoration Paradigm":. 142 Introduction .. 142 A. Did Cezanne f u l f i l the conditions that led easel painters toward V painting-decoration? . 144 B. Do Cezanne's paintings f i t the "Decoration Paradigm"?. 164 Conclusions 180 NOTES 18 4 Introduction 184 Chapter I, Introduction • 186 Chapter I, Part 1. 186 Chapter I, Part 2 201 Chapter I I , Part 1 241 Chapter II, Part 2 274 BIBLIOGRAPHY 293 LIST OF FIGURES P. Cezanne: Ouverture to Tannhauser. Moscow - Museum of Modern Western Art. 1869-71, V.90, 57x92 cm. (Source: L. Brion-Guerry, Paris, 19 66.) E. Bernard. P o r t r a i t of the A r t i s t ' s Grandmother. Rijksmuseum Vincent van Gogh, Amsterdam. 1887, 53x64 cm. (Source: B. Welsh-Ovcharov, Art G a l l , of Ontario, 19 81.) E. Bernard. S t i l l - L i f e with a Tobacco Pot. C o l l . Samuel Josefowitz, Lausanne. 1887, 33x56 cm. (Source: L i l l e , exh. Emile Bernard, 19 67.) P.Cezanne. The Temptation of St. Anthony C o l l . J.V. P e l l e r i n , Paris. 1873-77, V. 241, 47x56 cm. (Source: Th. Reff, "Cezanne, Flaubert, St. A n t h o n y 1 9 6 2 P. Cezanne. Madame Cezanne. 1872-1877, V.229, 55x46 cm. (Source: E. Bernard, Souvenirs.... Une Conversa- t i o n . .., Paris: A - Michel, 1926.) E. Bernard. Pont—Aven Seen From Bois d'Amour. C o l l . Samuel Josefowitz, Lausanne. 1892, 71.5x91 cm. (Source: L i l l e exh.) M. Denis. Hommage a Cezanne. Musee National d'Art Moderne, P a r i s . 1900, approx. 91.5x235 cm. (Source: Bonnard, V u i l l a r d et les Nabis, 19 55.) P..' Cezanne. S t i l l - L i f e.with Compotier. Musee du Luxembourg. 1879-82, V.341, 46x55 cm. (Source: F. Novotny, Cezanne, Phaidon, 1961.) M. Denis. Cezanne sortant de l a messe a Aix en 190 6. Drawing. (Source: M. Denis Du symbolisme au classicisme, Hermann, 19 - V l l - P. Cezanne. The E n v i r o n s o f A i x - e n - P r o v e n c e . W a l l y F i n d l a y G a l l . N.Y. P a i n t e d s c r e e n , 1858-60, V.3, 402x250 cm P. Cezanne. Grotesque d e c o r a t i o n s on t h e back o f t h e s c r e e n r e p r o d u c e d i n F i g . 10. V . l - 2 . (Source: L. V e n t u r i , Cezanne..., P a r i s , 1936.) P. Cezanne. Rocks a t L'Estaque. Sao P a u l o Museu de A r t e . ( D e t a i l . ) ( 1882-85, V.404, 73x91 cm. (Source: Sandra O r i e n t i , Complete P a i n t i n g s o f Cezanne, 1972.) P. Cezanne. House i n Provence. C o l l . P. M e l l o n . 1882-85, V.397, 65x81 cm. (Source: The World o f Cezanne, T i m e - L i f e Books, N.Y.) F r . Boucher. The C h i n e s e F i s h i n g P a r t y . ( D e t a i l . ) B e a u v a i s t a p e s t r y , 1758. (Source: M a d e l e i n e J a r r y , L a T a p i s s e r i e , des o r i g i n e s a nos j o u r s , P a r i s , 1968.) F r . Casanova. Les amusements de l a Cam- pagne: L ' A b r e u v o i r . ( D e t a i l . ) B e a u v a i s t a p e s t r y , 1772. M o b i l i e r N a t i o n a l , P a r i s . ( S o u r c e : P i e r r e V e r l e t e t . a l . , Le Grand L i v r e de l a T a p i s s e r i e , P a r i s , 1965.) P. Cezanne. Mont S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e . V i a d u c t and B i g T r e e s . M e t r o p o l i t a n Mus. o f A r t , N. Y. 1885-87, V.452, 65x81 cm. (Source: s l i d e from C a r l B e l z , Cezanne, Mc Graw- '•" H i l l , 1975.) P. Cezanne. Mont S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e Seen " v from Bibemus. The B a l t i m o r e Mus. o f A r t , bequest o f E t t a and C l a r i b e l Cone. 1898-1900, V.766, 64.8x81.3 cm. (Source: t h e p o s t e r o f the MOMA e x h i b . Cezanne. The L a t e Work, 1977-78.) P. Cezanne. S t i l l - L i f e w i t h Peppermint B o t t l e . N a t i o n a l G a l l , of A r t , Washing- t o n , D.C; C h e s t e r Dale C o l l . 1890-92, V.625, 65x81 cm. (Source: J . W e c h s l e r , Cezanne i n P e r s p e c t i v e , 19 7 5.) P. Cezanne. S t i l l - L i f e w i t h A p p l e s and Oranges. L o u v r e , P a r i s . 189 5-19 00, V - V l l l - .V.732, 73x92 cm. (Source: C. B e t z , Cezanne.) P.. Cezanne. . The Red Rock. L o u v r e , W a l t e r - G u i l l a u m e C o l l . 1895-1900, V.776, 91x66 cm. ( S o u r c e : S. O r i e n t i , Complete P a i n t i n g s o f Cezanne. P. Cezanne. Mont S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e . P r i v a t e C o l l . , S w i t z e r l a n d . 1902- 1906, V.802, 65x81 cm. (Source: F. Novotny, Cjzanne.) M. D e n i s . Ctszanne "on the M o t i f . " P r i v a t e C o l l . , F r a n c e . 1906. ( S o u r c e : Cat. o f t h e Bremen exh., M e i s t e r w e r k e des N a c h i m p r e s s i o n i s m u s aus der Sammlung M a u r i c e D e n i s , 17 Oct. 5 Dec. 1971.) - ix - ACKNOWLEDGEMENT I am indebted to David H. Splkin and Serge Guibault for t h e i r guidance and help i n organizing my material, for asking penetrating questions, and for making useful suggestions. I am thankful to George Knox for teaching me how to "see" Cezanne's paintings and for encouragement. I am g r a t e f u l to Albert Boime, who on very short notice, took the time for a h e l p f u l discussion. My research was helped by the Staff of the UBC Fine Art Library, I n t e r l i b r a r y Loan, and S l i d e Library. My special thanks to Melva Dwyer, Diana Cooper, A l i c e McNair, Karen Peplow, Barbara Hopkins and Mary Webb. This thesis would not have been written without Mike's support and patience. - 1 - INTRODUCTION 1. The Key I s s u e o f t h e T h e s i s The p r e s e n t s t a t e o f r e s e a r c h on CSzanne shows a s t r o n g C u b i s t b i a s , w h i c h c l e a r l y emerged i n the e x h i b i t i o n o f h i s l a t e work o r g a n i z e d by t h e Museum o f Modern A r t i n 1977. The purpose o f t h i s e x h i b i t i o n was t o emphasize the " e v o l u t i o n " from the l a t e Cezanne t o Cubism and thence t o t h e o t h e r major a r t i s t i c movements o f t h e 20th c e n t u r y . Modern v i e w s o f Cezanne t e n d t o r e l y t o o h e a v i l y on t h o s e o f t h e C u b i s t p a i n t e r s , a t t h e expense o f t h o s e o f t h e a r t i s t ' s contemporaries." To sum up the s i t u a t i o n r o u g h l y , on one hand we are p r e s e n t e d w i t h a c u r r e n t image o f Cezanne t h a t emphasizes the p e r c e p t u a l c h a r a c t e r o f h i s approach (the C u b i s t v i e w , r e - i n f o r c e d by M e r l e a u - P o n t y ' s i n f l u e n t i a l "Cezanne's Doubt" o f 194 8"*") ; on t h e o t h e r hand, we are c o n f r o n t e d w i t h t h e o p i n i o n s o f h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s who a p p l i e d a d e c o r a t i v e c o n c e p t i o n t o h i s p a i n t i n g s . They saw Cezanne's work i n the l i g h t o f t h e " d e c o r a - t i v e i d e a l " as i t was u n d e r s t o o d a t the end o f the 19th c e n t u r y and t h e v e r y b e g i n n i n g o f t h e 20th c e n t u r y . The emphasis p u t on " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " by avant-garde p a i n t e r s and c r i t i c s was an i m p o r t a n t p a r t o f t h e s t r o n g r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t r e a l i s m and p o s i t i v i s m t h a t took p l a c e a t t h e end o f the l a s t c e n t u r y . Cezanne d e v e l o p e d h i s mature s t y l e i n t h i s p e r i o d o f r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t N a t u r a l i s m and was c o n s i d e r e d as " i n i t i a t o r " o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e t e n d e n c i e s i n avant-garde p a i n t i n g . R i g h t from the b e g i n n i n g , the C u b i s t s emphasized Cezanne's -i 2 - r o l e as t h e i r " f o r e f a t h e r " i n o r d e r t o " l e g i t i m i z e " t h e i r p a i n t i n g . (Cezanne was a l r e a d y an i d o l o f the avant-garde.) A t t h e same time they gave a "death-blow" t o the concept o f p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n , because t h e y , and e s p e c i a l l y t h e i r d e a l e r , K a h n w e i l e r , were concerned w i t h the s t a t u s o f p a i n t i n g . They f e l t t h a t t h e s t a t u s o f p a i n t i n g had been e r o d e d , l o w e r e d t o the l e v e l o f d e c o r a t i o n . I n 1912, i n t h e i r Cubism, G l e i z e s and M e t z i n g e r s t a t e d t h i s a n t i - d e c o r a t i v e a t t i t u d e v e r y c l e a r l y : Many c o n s i d e r t h a t d e c o r a t i v e p r e o c c u p a t i o n must govern t h e s p i r i t o f the new p a i n t e r s . ... Enough d e c o r a t i v e p l a s t i c a r t and p i c t o r i a l d e c o r a t i o n , enough c o n f u s i o n and a m b i g u i t y . 2 R e f e r r i n g t o 1906, and t o Braque, D e r a i n and M a t i s s e among o t h e r s , t h e i n f l u e n t i a l d e a l e r i n C u b i s t a r t , D a n i e l - H e n r y K a h n w e i l e r , d e c l a r e d i n 1915: " P a i n t i n g t h r e a t e n e d t o debase i t s e l f t o the l e v e l o f o r n a m e n t a t i o n ; i t sought t o be ' dec- o r a t i v e ' t o 'adorn' the w a l l . " Because K a h n w e i l e r c o n s i d e r e d the s t a t u s o f d e c o r a t i o n i n f e r i o r , he d i d n o t l i k e the d e s i g - n a t i o n o f Cubism as "Geometric A c t . " R e d u c t i o n s t o s i m p l e g e o m e t r i c a l forms such as cubes, spheres and c y l i n d e r s were "seen" by " e a r l y s p e c t a t o r s " o f C u b i s t p a i n t i n g s he remarked, b u t a c c o r d i n g t o K a h n w e i l e r , C u b i s t p a i n t e r s d i d n o t p r o c e e d from such r e d u c t i o n s w h i c h are commonplace i n a r c h i t e c t u r e and a p p l i e d a r t s . C u b i s t p a i n t e r s r e p r o d u c e d o b j e c t s he s a i d , by means o f s y n t h e s i z i n g v a r i o u s images o f the o b j e c t , o b t a i n e d from v a r i o u s v i e w p o i n t s . ^ I n o t h e r words they were " c o n c e p t u a l r e a l i s t s . " T h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e o b j e c t as i t r e a l l y i s (as opposed t o t h e way i t appears t o be when seen i n l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e ) was a l s o commonplace i n a r c h i t e c t u r e and a p p l i e d - 3 - a r t s c u r r i c u l a i n t h e 19th c e n t u r y , under t h e name o f d e s s i n 5 g e o m e t r a l (as opposed t o d e s s i n p e r s p e c t i f ) . K a h n w e i l e r a c t u a l l y a d m i t s t h a t t h e r e i s "a c e r t a i n resemblance" between t h e C u b i s t mode o f r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f s o l i d o b j e c t s and t h i s " g e o m e t r i c a l drawing.. " Both Cubism and d e c o r a t i o n - as t h e l a t t e r was u n d e r s t o o d i n t h e second h a l f o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y - wanted t o a v o i d i l - l u s i o n i s m and used s i m i l a r methods t o do so. The b a s i c d i f f e r e n c e l a y s i n i n t e n t i o n . Cubism wanted t o r e a c t a g a i n s t p a i n t i n g "debased" t o t h e l e v e l o f d e c o r a t i o n , and t h u s l a b e l l e d i t s e l f " R e a l i s m " (a " p r o f o u n d , " o r b e t t e r , a " c o n c e p t u a l " o n e ) . D e c o r a t i o n a v o i d e d i l l u s i o n i s m i n o r d e r not to. " p i e r c e h o l e s " i n the w a l l s , i n o r d e r t o r e s p e c t t h e i r p l a n a r s u r f a c e , i n o t h e r words o u t o f s u b m i s s i o n t o a r c h i t e c t u r e . E a s e l p a i n t i n g based on t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n r e a c t e d a g a i n s t the R e a l i s m c o n n e c t e d w i t h t h e p o s i t i v i s t , e m p i r i c i s t method, w h i c h o n l y r e p r o d u c e d "appearances." T h i s p a i n t i n g d i d n o t a s p i r e t o a h i g h e r s t a t u s than t h a t o f m u r a l p a i n t i n g , o f p a i n t i n g t h a t had a s p e c i f i c d e s t i n a t i o n . When t h e C u b i s t s g a t h e r e d t h e m s e l v e s under t h e banner o f " R e a l i s m , " t h e y d e c l a r e d t h e i r works d e r i v e d from C o u r b e t 1 s (whose r e a l i s m t h e y l a b e l l e d " s u p e r f i c i a l r e a l i s m " ) and Cezanne's ("profound r e a l i s m " ) . Of c o u r s e , Cezanne was not c o n s i d e r e d as " c o n c e p t u a l " as t h e m s e l v e s , because o t h e r w i s e where would have been t h e i n n o v a t i o n ? Thus t h e main d i f f e r e n c e between t h e C u b i s t s and Cezanne has t r a d i t i o n a l l y been c o n s i d e r e d t o r e s i d e i n the much more c o n c e p t u a l ( v e r s u s p e r c e p t u a l ) c h a r a c t e r o f C u b i s t a r t . Not l o n g ago, however, W i l l i a m Rubin remarked t h a t - 4 - a l o t o f Cezanne's a r t i s a l s o " c o n c e p t u a l . " He t u r n e d t h i s a d m i s s i o n i n t o an argument i n favour, o f a c l o s e r r e l a t i o n s h i p between Cezanne and the C u b i s t s , s u g g e s t i n g t h a t the d i f f e r e n c e between t h e i r r e s p e c t i v e methods "was as much one o f degree as 8 o f k i n d . " But i f t h e r e a r e s i m i l a r i t i e s i n method, i t does n o t n e c e s s a r i l y mean t h e r e are a l s o s i m i l a r i t i e s i n i n t e n t i o n s , i n m o t i v e s . Cezanne's c o n c e p t u a l i s m c o u l d be r o o t e d i n t h e p r i n - c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n , w h i c h were a p p l i e d t o p a i n t i n g as a r e - a c t i o n a g a i n s t r e a l i s m i n t h e f i r s t p l a c e . T h i s i s my w o r k i n g h y p o t h e s i s , w h i c h I hope t o demonstrate by p l a c i n g t h e p a i n t e r i n h i s own. h i s t o r i c a l t i m e . D u r i n g t h e 1890s and t h e f i r s t y e a r s o f t h i s c e n t u r y , t h e d e c o r a t i v e a s p e c t s o f Cezanne's work were c o n s i d e r e d "paramount 9 and new," as George Heard H a m i l t o n has p o i n t e d o u t . A p p a r e n t l y H a m i l t o n i s t h e o n l y modern a r t h i s t o r i a n who has c o n s i d e r e d t h i s as s i g n i f i c a n t . But even he s e p a r a t e d t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " from t h e " a r c h i t e c t u r a l , " when i n f a c t the two n o t i o n s were not a t a l l i n c o m p a t i b l e i n t h e c o n t e x t . o f " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " a t the time i n F r a n c e . ^ The p r e s e n t a u t h o r f e e l s t h a t a s i g n i f i c a n t a s p e c t o f Cezanne has been n e g l e c t e d by modern s c h o l a r s h i p : t h e r e l a t i o n - s h i p between Cezanne's p a i n t i n g and the d e c o r a t i v e a e s t h e t i c o f t h e 1890s and t h e f i r s t y e a r s o f t h e 20th c e n t u r y . T h i s i s the key i s s u e o f t h e t h e s i s . 2. Overview I n t h e f i r s t c h a p t e r I propose t o e s t a b l i s h t h a t the new tendency o f F r e n c h avant-garde p a i n t i n g i n t h e decade 1890 - - 5 - 1900 was t o be " d e c o r a t i v e . " T h i s . t e n d e n c y (emphasized by t h e c r i t i c s o f t h e p e r i o d ) encompassed more t h a n S y m b o l i s t p a i n t i n g . I t i n c l u d e d N e o - T m p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g , as w e l l as new p a i n t i n g by the. o l d " i m p r e s s i o n i s t s . " I n C h a p t e r I , P a r t 1 I s h a l l d e a l w i t h problems o f d e f i n i - t i o n . A t o p i c o f utmost importance i s , o f c o u r s e , t h e e x a c t meaning o f " d e c o r a t i v e " a t t h a t t i m e . A p p l i e d t o p a i n t i n g i t d i d n o t mean t h e same t h i n g t o everybody. F o r some a v a n t - g a r d e p a i n t e r s i t meant t h e t r a n s f o r m a t i o n o f e a s e l p a i n t i n g i n t o " d e c o r a t i o n , " i n o t h e r words i t meant the a b o l u t i o n o f t h e t a b l e a u . I m p r e s s i o n i s m reduced e a s e l p a i n t i n g t o t h e s t a t e o f ebauche o r s k e t c h , b u t p r e s e r v e d t h e g e n e r a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s o f the t a b l e a u . I m p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g was a l s o " d e c o r a t i v e " i n t h e sense used i n the 1870s, b u t i t was not a t r u e " d e c o r a t i o n . " " D e c o r a t i o n " i s a g a i n a term t h a t r e q u i r e s d e f i n i t i o n . Decora- t i o n , as i t was u n d e r s t o o d a t t h e time was s u b s e r v i e n t t o a r c h i t e c t u r e , the most i m p o r t a n t consequence b e i n g t h e p r e s e r - v a t i o n o f t h e f l a t n e s s o f a w a l l . A t a b l e a u would s i m u l a t e a "window" where the a r c h i t e c t d i d not i n t e n d t o p l a c e one. A " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " ( p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n " was not t o make use e i t h e r o f c h i a r o s c u r o o r p e r s p e c t i v e e f f e c t s ( l i n e a r o r atmos- p h e r i c ) . But. t h i s d i d n o t n e c e s s a r i l y mean a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s as i n an o r n a m e n t a l d e s i g n . Many " r e f o r m e r s " o f the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n t h e second h a l f o f 1 9 t h c e n t u r y F r a n c e wanted d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g t o r e t a i n something o f t h e "Western t r a d i t i o n . " But why d i d t h e avant-garde want a t t h a t p a r t i c u l a r time t o t r a n s f o r m e a s e l p a i n t i n g i n t o d e c o r a t i o n ? The " r e b i r t h , " the f l o u r i s h i n g o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n t h e l a s t decade o f t h e - 6 - 19th c e n t u r y does n o t a u t o m a t i c a l l y e x p l a i n why t h e a r t i s t s d i d n o t j u s t l i m i t thernselyes t o t h e t r a d i t i o n a l " d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . " Most o f the r e f o r m e r s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s a c t i v e i n the second h a l f o f the l a s t c e n t u r y k e p t two s e p a r a t e s e t s o f "laws": one f o r d e c o r a t i o n , a n o t h e r f o r e a s e l p a i n t i n g s , f o r t a b l e a u x . Only V i o l l e t - l e - D u c and o t h e r G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t s o r s y m p a t h i s e r s would have p r e f e r r e d the "decadent, 1 1 even "pagan" t a b l e a u a b o l i s h e d a l t o g e t h e r . The avant-garde o f the 1890s, as I w i l l d i s c u s s i n C h a p t e r I , P a r t 2, t u r n e d t o t h e s e t o f p r i n c i p l e s recommended f o r d e c o r a t i o n , m o t i v a t e d by i d e o l o g i c a l r e a s o n s . I c o n s i d e r e d i t n e c e s s a r y t o s t r e s s t h e . F r e n c h s o u r c e s o f i n f l u e n c e which c o n t r i b u t e d t o t h e a v a n t - g a r d e ' s o r i e n t a t i o n toward d e c o r a t i o n , because t h i s a s p e c t has been n e g l e c t e d by modern s c h o l a r s h i p . I t i s f o r example customary t o mention the i n f l u e n c e o f R u s k i n o r W i l l i a m M o r r i s on t h e r e b i r t h o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n F r a n c e , o r even on t h e Nabi group o f p a i n t e r s , 12 w i t h o u t a word about V i o l l e t - l e - D u c . A f t e r e s t a b l i s h i n g i n t h e f i r s t c h a p t e r what t h e g e n e r a l t r e n d o f the a v a n t - g a r d e p a i n t i n g was a t t h e end o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y and the v e r y b e g i n n i n g o f the 20th c e n t u r y , I w i l l d e a l i n the second c h a p t e r o f the t h e s i s w i t h Cezanne's p o s i t i o n v i s - a - v i s t h i s t r e n d . C h a p t e r I I , P a r t 1 w i l l i n d i c a t e t h a t t h e b u l k o f con- temporary c r i t i c i s m emphasized t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " f e a t u r e s o f Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s . A c c o r d i n g t o t h e i r r e s p e c t i v e p o s i t i o n s r e g a r d i n g what " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " s h o u l d be (some were b o t h e r e d by the f l a t n e s s o f d e c o r a t i o n i n e a s e l p a i n t i n g , f o r i d e o l o g i c a l reasons) t h e c r i t i c s can be d i v i d e d i n two main - 7 - groups: those who c o n s i d e r e d Cezanne's " d i s t o r t i o n s " as b e i n g v o l u n t a r y , o f a c o n c e p t u a l n a t u r e , and t h o s e who blamed them on f a u l t y p e r c e p t i o n o r s k i l l . Both groups remarked though on s i m i l a r i t i e s between Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s and v a r i o u s d e c o r a t i v e a r t s such as c e r a m i c s , O r i e n t a l s i l k s , m o s a i c s , and e s p e c i a l l y t a p e s t r i e s . F i n a l l y , P a r t 2 o f the second c h a p t e r w i l l attempt t o determine i f Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s and h i s own words (I c o n s i d e r as h i s "own words" o n l y what he wrote i n h i s l e t t e r s ) are com- p a t i b l e w i t h a " d e c o r a t i o n paradigm." My c o n c l u s i o n i s t h a t t h e r e i s a s t r o n g enough case f o r the " d e c o r a t i o n paradigm" f i t t i n g Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s o f h i s "mature" p e r i o d ( i . e . s i n c e the 1880s). Many o f t h e s e p a i n t i n g s f i t a c t u a l l y , i n my o p i n i o n , i n t o a " t a p e s t r y paradigm." I r e f e r e s p e c i a l l y t o the 18th c e n t u r y Rococo t a p e s t r i e s , among e x t a n t examples, as w e l l as t o h y p o t h e t i c a l t a p e s t r i e s , as e n v i s a g e d by the r e f o r m e r s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n France i n the l a s t q u a r t e r o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y . I s h a l l p l a c e a s p e c i a l emphasis on the c o n n e c t i o n w h i c h can be made between Cezanne's method o f " c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s " and s i m i l a r methods recommended by t h e w r i t i n g s o f C h a r l e s B l a n c and M i c h e l Eugene Chevreul-, o r employed i n 18th c e n t u r y B e a u v a i s t a p e s t r y . - 8 - CHAPTER I THE CONCEPT OF DECORATION IN LATE NINETEENTH CENTURY ART AND THE NEW TENDENCIES IN THE PAINTING OF THE 1890s I n t r o d u c t i o n . I n t h e l a s t few y e a r s a r t h i s t o r i a n s have begun t o r e - c o g n i z e t h e r o l e p l a y e d by the " l o w l y , " "merely d e c o r a t i v e " a r t s i n the f o r m a t i o n o f " h i g h " modern art."*" Because t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " i s today a s s o c i a t e d w i t h a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s , Cezanne has been e x c l u d e d from r e c e n t d i s c u s s i o n s on 2 t h i s t o p i c . Yet Cezanne was c o n s i d e r e d by many o f h i s con- t e m p o r a r i e s as t h e " i n i t i a t o r " o f the new d e c o r a t i v e t e n d e n c i e s m a n i f e s t e d i n p a i n t i n g i n t h e 1890s. I n o r d e r t o u n d e r s t a n d t h i s i t i s n e c e s s a r y t o c l a r i f y what " d e c o r a t i o n " and " d e c o r a - t i v e " meant a t the time when Cezanne worked, e s p e c i a l l y when he d e v e l o p e d h i s mature s t y l e . One o f t h e most i m p o r t a n t c o n c l u s i o n s o f C h a p t e r I , P a r t 1 i s t h e f a c t t h a t when Cezanne d e v e l o p e d h i s mature s t y l e , t h e term " d e c o r a t i v e " was n o t equated w i t h a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s . A c c o r d i n g t o most F r e n c h t h e o r i s t s a t t h e t i m e , a s t r i c t t w o - d i m e n s i o n a l f l a t n e s s was n o t r e q u i r e d , nor even c o n s i d e r e d d e s i r a b l e , n e i t h e r i n d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g nor i n a l l the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , such as t a p e s t r y f o r example ( o n l y i n c a r p e t s , w a l l p a p e r s , pavements, s t a i n e d - g l a s s windows). I t i s a l s o i m p o r t a n t t o u n d e r s t a n d t h e r e a s o n s b e h i n d the - 9 - a p p a r e n t l y sudden i n t e r e s t o f a v a n t - g a r d e a r t i s t s i n " d e c o r a t i o n " and the " d e c o r a t i v e " i n t h e 1890s i n F r a n c e . The i n t e r e s t i n d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , e x p r e s s e d by a r t i s t s p r a c t i c i n g " h i g h " a r t was not a r o u s e d s u d d e n l y i n the 1890s. I t was the avant-garde o f the 1890s who a p p l i e d d e c o r a t i v e a r t s p r i n c i p l e s (which can be summarized as " f l a t n e s s " ) t o e a s e l p a i n t i n g as w e l l as t o mural d e c o r a t i o n s . (As w i l l be d i s c u s s e d i n Chapter I , P a r t 2, t h i s was r e l a t e d t o the a n t i - n a t u r a l i s t , a n t i - p o s i t i v i s t r e - a c t i o n t h a t began i n t h e 1880s.) Y e t t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n , as w e l l as a r e v i v a l o f i n t e r e s t i n d e c o r a t i o n were r e s p e c t i v e l y f o r m u l a t e d and i n i t i a t e d n o t by t h e a v a n t - garde, b u t by " o f f i c i a l " r e f o r m e r s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . I w i l l d e a l w i t h t h e s e problems o f a g e n e r a l n a t u r e i n P a r t 1 o f t h e f i r s t c h a p t e r . - 10 - C h a p t e r T, Part' 1 The R e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f t h e I n d u s t r i a l A r t s i n France and i t s R o l e i n R e d e f i n i n g t h e Concept o f D e c o r a t i o n . 3 The r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f i n d u s t r i a l and/or d e c o r a t i v e a r t s was a c o n s t a n t p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h i n v a r i o u s a d m i n i s t r a t i o n s i n t h e second h a l f o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e . A t f i r s t o n l y t h e Government and p r i v a t e i n d u s t r y (not a r t i s t s ) s t r o v e toward t h i s g o a l , s i n c e t h e u l t i m a t e m o t i v e b e h i n d t h e i n d u s t r i a l a r t s r e v i t a l i z a t i o n was o f an economic n a t u r e : F r a n c e was a f r a i d o f l o s i n g the l e a d i n t h i s f i e l d , m a i n l y because o f E n g l i s h com- p e t i t i o n . There was however a s u b s t r a t u m o f a non-economic n a t u r e u n d e r l y i n g t h e r e f o r m s proposed: t h e " o f f i c i a l " r e f o r m e r s were G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t s (or s y m p a t h i s e r s ) who wanted t o r e d e f i n e t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n i n such a way as t o c o r r e s p o n d t o t h e i r p a r t i c u l a r v i e w p o i n t . They c o n s i d e r e d a r t s i n c e t h e R e n a i s s a n c e 4 as "decadent" o r even "pagan." Of c o u r s e t h e y knew t h a t t h e Government would be v e r y r e c e p t i v e t o such r e a s o n s as an economic l a g and t h e " p r e s t i g e " o f F r a n c e . T h i s t a c t i c e ( s u b s t i t u t i n g economic r e a s o n s f o r t h e i d e o l o g i c a l ones) worked f i r s t v e r y w e l l i n E n g l a n d , where t h e G o t h i c R e v i v a l was a s t r o n g e r movement t h a n i n France i n t h e f i r s t h a l f o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y . The o r i g i n a l m o t i v e s b e h i n d t h i s movement were o f a r e l i g i o u s n a t u r e ( w i t h e t h i c a l and s o c i o l o g i c a l i m p l i c a t i o n s . ) as i s e v i d e n t i n i t s most i m p o r t a n t p r o p a g a n d i s t , t h e a r c h i t e c t and d e s i g n e r A.W.N. P u g i n . He i n s i s t e d on a r e t u r n t o " t r u e " C h r i s t i a n a r t and v i r t u e s w h i c h he found i n the M i d d l e Ages. - 11 - He a l s o found t h e r e a model o f s o c i a l s t r u c t u r e , w h i c h he ad- v o c a t e d . " O f f i c i a l " r e f o r m e r s , such as the c i v i l s e r v a n t Henry C o l e (1808-1882) and h i s c i r c l e , argued f o r t h e n e c e s s i t y o f e s t a b l i s h i n g t h e " t r u e " p r i n c i p l e s " o f d e c o r a t i o n , and s t a r t e d a campaign a g a i n s t "bad t a s t e " (read i l l u s i o n i s t i c n a t u r a l i s m ) , 5 based on P u g i n ' s d o c t r i n e s . The Great London E x h i b i t i o n o f 1851 (the World's F a i r a t t h e C r y s t a l P a l a c e ) was s e i z e d upon by t h e s e r e f o r m e r s as a g r e a t o p p o r t u n i t y t o l a u n c h t h e i r s u c c e s s - f u l campaign a g a i n s t r e a l i s t i c i l l u s i o n i s m i n d e c o r a t i o n . The e x h i b i t s o f V i c t o r i a n England i n d e e d p r o v i d e d an abundance o f examples o f what t h e y c o n s i d e r e d "bad t a s t e . " I n t h e formu- l a t i o n o f the " t r u e p r i n c i p l e s " a v e r y i n f l u e n t i a l p e r s o n a l i t y was t h e a r c h i t e c t , i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n e r , and i n t e r i o r d e c o r a t o r Owen Jones (1809-1874) who e s t a b l i s h e d what was " t r u e " and what was " f a l s e " i n the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . He c o n s i d e r e d i t a b s o l u t e l y n e c e s s a r y t h a t an ornament s h o u l d p r e s e r v e t h e u n i t y o f t h e o b j e c t t h a t i t d e c o r a t e d . That i m p l i e d r e s p e c t f o r t h e p l a n e s u r f a c e o f w a l l s and f l o o r s . He o b j e c t e d t o w a l l p a p e r p a t t e r n s t h a t were n o t p e r f e c t l y f l a t , and t o c a r p e t s w i t h " p e r s p e c t i v e 7 r e p r e s e n t a t i o n s , and p i e r c e d f u l l o f h o l e s . " F l a t n e s s , w h i c h o f t e n meant a s i m p l e , a b s t r a c t g e o m e t r i c a l d e s i g n , was v e r y s u i t a b l e f o r m e c h a n i c a l r e p r o d u c t i o n , f o r mass p r o d u c t i o n . The " o f f i c i a l s " I mentioned b e f o r e were v e r y much i n t e r e s t e d i n the r e l a t i o n s h i p between a r t and i n d u s t r y . Henry C o l e and h i s c i r c l e (as opposed t o W i l l i a m M o r r i s and the l a t e r A r t s and C r a f t s movement, w h i c h r e p r e s e n t e d most a r t i s t s ' p o i n t o f view) a c c e p t e d w h o l e h e a r t e d l y t h e r o l e o f t h e machine i n t h e i n d u s - t r i a l a r t s and were i n t e r e s t e d i n b e t t e r d e s i g n s f o r mass- - 12 - produced goods, e s p e c i a l l y w a l l p a p e r s . In a c h i e v i n g t h i s g o a l , e d u c a t i o n was o f paramount importance.. C o l e c r e a t e d t h e famous " S c h o o l s o f D e s i g n " a t t a c h e d t o t h e South K e n s i n g t o n Museum, where t h e " t r u e p r i n c i p l e s " o f o r n a m e n t a l d e s i g n were t a u g h t . The r e s u l t s o f t h e o f f i c i a l r e f o r m e r s ' endeavours were seen i n the E n g l i s h e x h i b i t s a t t h e World's F a i r o f 1862. T h i s time the F r e n c h G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t s and t h e i r s u p p o r t e r s saw t h e o p p o r t u n i t y t o c r e a t e " p a n i c . " They found a v e r y s u s c e p t i b l e l i s t e n e r i n t h e p e r s o n o f t h e Emperor Napoleon I I I , who was e x t r e m e l y i n t e r e s t e d i n t h e p r o g r e s s o f t h e i n d u s t r i a l a r t s . He l o o k e d upon t h e r i v a l r y . b e t w e e n F r a n c e and E n g l a n d i n t h i s f i e l d as a " k i n d o f war, w h i c h makes no v i c t i m s " and h e l d t h e o p i n i o n t h a t t h e p r o d u c t s o f t h e i n d u s t r y " t e s t i f y t o our m o r a l and 9 p o l i t i c a l c o n d i t i o n . " Even b e f o r e he became emperor, w h i l e s t i l l t h e P r e s i d e n t o f F r a n c e , L o u i s Napoleon had a p p o i n t e d a committee headed by the Comte Leon de Laborde ( c u r a t o r o f m e d i e v a l monuments a t t h e Louvre) t o s t u d y t h e G r e a t London E x h i b i t i o n o f 1851 and the r e l a t i o n s h i p between a r t s and i n d u s t r y . Not everybody i n the government was p r e p a r e d t o t a k e s e r i o u s l y Laborde's w a r n i n g s c o n c e r n i n g the n e c e s s i t y o f r e f o r m s r i g h t t h e n , s i n c e France r e c e i v e d g o l d and s i l v e r medals a t t h e f i r s t World's F a i r , p r o o f t h a t t h e r e was no d e s p e r a t e need f o r improve- ment."'"^ , However, i n 1862, t h e s u c c e s s o f England's e x h i b i t s gave more w e i g h t t o the c o n c l u s i o n r e a c h e d by a n o t h e r m e d i e v a l i s t , P r o s p e r Merimee ( n o v e l i s t and.medieval a r c h a e o l o g i s t , c i v i l s e r v a n t , f r i e n d o f de Laborde and o f V i o l l e t - l e - D u c - t h e b e s t known G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t i n F r a n c e ) , who as a member o f t h e F r e n c h d e l e g a t i o n a t t h e F a i r , d e s c r i b e d t h e s i t u a t i o n as " s e r i o u s , even t h r e a t e n i n g . " The Government o f Napoleon I I I became con- v i n c e d t h a t a r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f i n d u s t r i a l a r t s . w a s a b s o l u t e l y n e c e s s a r y . That meant a c l o s e r r e l a t i o n s h i p between, " h i g h a r t " and i n d u s t r y , r e f o r m s i n a r t e d u c a t i o n a t a l l l e v e l s , as w e l l as the e d u c a t i o n o f m a n u f a c t u r e r s , merchants and the g e n e r a l p u b l i c i n o r d e r t o improve t h e i r , " t a s t e , " and make everybody aware o f "the t r u e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n . " T h i s p r o c e s s o f r e v i t a l i z a t i o n d i d not p r o c e e d smoothly how- e v e r , because o f t h e c o n f l i c t i n g i n t e r e s t s o f t h e v a r i o u s groups i n v o l v e d . The Government, as I a l r e a d y p o i n t e d o u t , was i n t e r e s t e d i n F r a n c e ' s " p r e s t i g e " and economic growth, and when c o n v i n c e d t h a t t h e r e was a r e a l t h r e a t t o t h o s e a r e a s , agreed t o a c t . I t was t h u s p o s s i b l e f o r V i o l l e t - l e - D u c (whose i d e a s on d e c o r a t i o n , as we s h a l l see, w i l l be i m p o r t a n t f o r b o t h S y m b o l i s t p a i n t e r s as w e l l as A r t Nouveau) t o have h i s i d e a s on t h e r e f o r m a t i o n o f -the E c o l e des B e a u x - A r t s a c c e p t e d by t h e Emperor artd h i s a d m i n i s t r a - t i v e body. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c was t h e d r i v i n g f o r c e b e h i n d t h e "Decree o f 1863" which p l a c e d t h e E c o l e des B e a u x - A r t s under d i r e c t government c o n t r o l , u n d e r m i n i n g t h e a u t h o r i t y o f t h e 12 Academy. The importance o f t h e Decree o f 1863 from t h e p o i n t o f v i e w o f s t r e s s i n g " o r i g i n a l i t y " and i t s consequences f o r t h e development o f independent a r t i s t i c movements has been v e r y w e l l 13 demonstrated by. A l b e r t Boime.. I would l i k e t o p l a c e more em- p h a s i s on t h e o t h e r main i s s u e r a i s e d by t h e Decree ( a l s o p o i n t e d out by Boime), namely t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p between a r t and i n d u s t r y . One o f t h e i m p o r t a n t achievements o f t h e Decree, i n accordance w i t h V i o l l e t - l e - D u c ' s dream o f u n i t i n g a l l the a r t s , was t h e -14 r- of p r e p a r a t o r y workshops i n p a i n t i n g , s c u l p t u r e , a r c h i t e c t u r e , as w e l l as i n e n g r a v i n g , m e d a l l i o n s and j e w e l e r y , on the p r e m i s e s o f t h e E c o l e des Beaux-Arts.. T h i s i n t r u s i o n o f t h e a p p l i e d a r t s i n t o t h a t b a s t i o n o f h i g h a r t t h a t was the Beaux- A r t s (where s t r a n g e l y enough n o t even p a i n t i n g was p r e v i o u s l y t a u g h t ) , was suppose t o a t t r a c t t h e b e s t a r t i s t s i n t o the f i e l d o f i n d u s t r i a l a r t s . I n the R e p o r t o f t h e S u p e r i n t e n d e n t o f B e a u x - A r t s (a t e x t t h a t was p u b l i s h e d t o g e t h e r w i t h t h e Decree i n the G a z e t t e des Beaux A r t s ) , the Comte A l f r e d - E m i l i e n N i e u - werkerke who h e l d t h i s o f f i c i a l p o s i t i o n , and who was a l s o co- a u t h o r o f t h e Decree ( w i t h V i o l l e t - l e - D u c ) , d e c l a r e d t h a t t h e r e o r g a n i z a t i o n o f t h e E c o l e " w i l l i n s u r e our i n d u s t r y a 14 s u p e r i o r i t y w h i c h i s b e g i n n i n g t o be c o n t e s t e d . " The " o f f i c i a l " r e f o r m e r s (Nieuwerkerke, V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , de Laborde, Merimee, f o r example) i n the d e s i r e t o r e v i t a l i z e t h e i n d u s t r i a l a r t s e n t e r e d i n t o c o n f l i c t w i t h t h e Academy, because t h e y v i o l a t e d i t s s a c r e d t e r r i t o r y . The p r o t o t y p i c a l r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f t h e Academy was I n g r e s . He p r o t e s t e d a g a i n s t m i x i n g " a r t " and i n d u s t r y a t t h e E c o l e , w h i c h he c o n s i d e r e d a 15 " t r u e temple o f A p o l l o . " I n g r e s and h i s p u p i l s succeeded i n f o r c i n g t h e r e s i g n a t i o n o f V i o l l e t - l e - D u c as p r o f e s s o r o f H i s t o r y o f A r t and A e s t h e t i c s , a f t e r o n l y seven l e c t u r e s . Thus h i s i n f l u e n c e was g r e a t l y d i m i n i s h e d . V i o l l e t - l e - D u c can be c o n s i d e r e d as r e p r e s e n t i n g t h e " o f f i c i a l " s i d e o f t h e above-mentioned c o n f l i c t between t h e Academy on t h e one s i d e , and t h e o f f i c i a l s on t h e o t h e r . ( T h i s i s a c o n f l i c t t h a t would c o n t i n u e f o r t h e r e s t o f t h e 19th - 15 - 16 c e n t u r y . ) He was t h e f a v o u r i t e a r c h i t e c t o f Napoleon I I I , who a p p o i n t e d him I n s p e c t o r G e n e r a l . o f d i o c e s a n b u i l d i n g s soon a f t e r he p r o c l a i m e d h i m s e l f Emperor. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c was not t r a i n e d a t the E c o l e (he was l a r g e l y s e l f - t a u g h t ) and h a t e d t h e Academy (a resentment s h a r e d by Napoleon I I I ) and e v e r y t h i n g i t s t o o d f o r . I n s t e a d o f c l a s s i c i s m he p r a i s e d t h e G o t h i c and t h e s o c i a l system t h a t produced i t , i n w h i c h t h e d i v i s i o n o f l a b o r among a r t i s t s , t h a t would o c c u r l a t e r i n "decadent" s o c i e t i e s , d i d n o t y e t e x i s t . He was a g a i n s t t h e e m a n c i p a t i o n o f p a i n t i n g s i n c e t h e R e n a i s s a n c e , and a d v o c a t e d the u n i t y o f t h e t h r e e a r t s : a r c h i t e c t u r e , s c u l p t u r e and p a i n t i n g , s i n c e t h e b r e a k i n g o f t h e t i e s between them l e d t o the "decadence o f a l l o f them." He p r a i s e d p r i m i t i v e s o c i e t i e s i n w h i c h , he s a i d , "There are not 17 t h r e e v i s u a l a r t s , t h e r e i s o n l y one." V i o l l e t - l e - D u c de- p l o r e d t h e s p l i t between "the b e a u t i f u l " and "the u s e f u l , " between t h e a r c h i t e c t and e n g i n e e r , between " h i g h a r t " and i n - d u s t r y . H i s i d e a s i n the a r t i s t i c r e a l m were a c u r i o u s m i x t u r e o f o l d and new, so t h a t h i s enemies and l a t e r d e t r a c t o r s con- s i d e r e d him m e r e l y a " G o t h i c i m i t a t o r " ( w h i l e i n f a c t he op- posed t h e p l a g i a r i s m o f o l d e r s t y l e s ) and among h i s f u t u r e a d m i r e r s he would have such i m p o r t a n t f i g u r e s o f A r t Nouveau as H o r t a , Guimard, G a u d i , and S e r r u r i e r - B o v y . A l o o k a t the d e c o r a t i o n s he d i d f o r the Chateau d'Eu, f o r example ( e s p e c i a l l y t h e i r o n - w o r k o f t h e g r e a t s t a i r c a s e , the c e i l i n g o r n a m e n t a l m o t i f s w i t h arabesques , t h e m o t i f s i n s p i r e d by o r g a n i c , f l o r a l shapes t h a t d e c o r a t e the h e a t - c o n v e y i n g system) would t e l l 18 why. G r a s s e t , a n o t h e r well-known A r t Nouveau p e r s o n a l i t y ( m e d i e v a l i s t , s t u d e n t o f Japanese a r t and i n s i s t e n t on u s i n g - 16 - o r n a m e n t a l m o t i f s d e r i v e d from n a t u r e ) was V i o l l e t - l e - D u c 1 s p u p i l , and so was V.P. G a l l a n d , who .has o n l y l a t e l y been r e - c o g n i z e d as an i n f l u e n c e on t h e development o f t h e A r t Nouveau 19 s t y l e i n F r a n c e . G a l l a n d was a b l e t o r e i n t r o d u c e V i o l l e t - l e - Duc's i d e a s i n t o t h e E c o l e des B e a u x - A r t s i n 1873 (and a f t e r ) , when he was a p p o i n t e d t o t e a c h a c o u r s e i n d e c o r a t i v e a r t . V i o l l e t - l e - D u c g l a d l y would have a b o l i s h e d the t a b l e a u ( i n t h e Academic sense o f the word) a l t o g e t h e r , s i n c e f o r him i t embodied t i m e s o f decadence, and he would have had m u r a l p a i n t i n g resemble m e d i e v a l m a n u s c r i p t i l l u m i n a t i o n s . He r e - p r e s e n t e d one p o s i t i o n on d e c o r a t i o n i n France i n t h e second h a l f o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y . There was a n o t h e r , w i d e s p r e a d p o s i t i o n , w h i c h w h i l e i t a c c e p t e d t h a t d e c o r a t i o n s h o u l d r e s p e c t t h e f l a t n e s s o f t h e s u r f a c e i t d e c o r a t e d , wanted t o r e t a i n i n " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " something o f the "Western T r a d i t i o n , " t h a t i s , some m o d e l l i n g o f t h e i n d i v i d u a l o b j e c t s r e p r e s e n t e d , and e s p e c i a l l y o f t h e human f i g u r e . (I w i l l come back t o t h i s d i s t i n c t i o n i n p o s i t i o n s r e g a r d i n g d e c o r a t i o n l a t e r on, when I w i l l d i s c u s s t h e a c t u a l p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n . ) T h i s w i l l be t h e " o f f i c i a l " p o s i t i o n i n the 1880s. An extreme case o f a r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f t h e "Western t r a d i t i o n " was C h a r l e s B l a n c (1813-1882), V i o l l e t - l e - D u c ' s 20 contemporary. I c o n s i d e r e d him an "extreme c a s e " i n p r e - s e r v i n g the O c c i d e n t a l t r a d i t i o n , because i n m u r a l p a i n t i n g he d i d not make any c o n c e s s i o n s w i t h r e s p e c t t o m o d e l l i n g o f i n - d i v i d u a l forms ( o n l y w i t h r e s p e c t t o p e r s p e c t i v e and c o l o r i n g , r e g a r d i n g t h e g e n e r a l " e f f e c t , " as I s h a l l d i s c u s s l a t e r ) . He was i n t h e p e c u l i a r p o s i t i o n of b e i n g b o t h an " o f f i c i a l " and an - 17 - A c a d e m i c i a n , and i t i s e v i d e n t i n h i s i n f l u e n t i a l w r i t i n g s and a c t i v i t i e s , t h a t he t r i e d t o r e a c h a compromise between t h e two s i d e s . He was a f i r m b e l i e v e r i n h i e r a r c h y i n a r t . The h i g h e s t form o f a r t a c c o r d i n g t o him was an a r t t h a t had t h e a b i l i t y t o i n s t i g a t e h e r o i c s e n t i m e n t s i n the v i e w e r , t h a t c o u l d s e r v e ( w i t h o u t a d m i t t i n g t h i s as i t s purpose s i n c e " h i g h a r t " was not supposed t o have u t i l i t a r i a n ends) n o b l e c a u s e s , m o r a l ends. He f a v o u r e d c l a s s i c i s m , p a r t i c u l a r l y t h a t o f t h e 21 R e n a i s s a n c e . Thus he was i n tune w i t h t h e Academy. B l a n c h e l d t h e o p i n i o n t h a t o n l y t h e S t a t e s h o u l d have t h e monopoly o f "grand a r t , " produced f o r t h e " g r e a t e s t g l o r y o f F r e n c h a r t . " M u r a l s were v e r y a p p r o p r i a t e f o r t h i s k i n d o f a r t i n h i s v i e w , s i n c e when d e c o r a t i n g p u b l i c e d i f i c e s , t h e y had wide exposure t o numerous p e o p l e who c o u l d t h u s b e n e f i t from t h o s e 23 "noble i d e a s . " I n "grand a r t " m u r a l s , B l a n c would have never a c c e p t e d f i g u r e s r e n d e r e d i n t h e manner o f t h e m a n u s c r i p t i l l u m i n a t i o n s . He s t a t e d t h a t " a t the S a l o n and i n f r o n t o f 24 t h e p u b l i c one must e x h i b i t f i g u r e s and not shadows." T h i s comment was provoked by 'the camaieu p a i n t i n g P u v i s de Chavannes e x h i b i t e d a t t h e S a l o n . o f 1866, whose f i g u r e s , B l a n c s a i d , were "more dreamed t h a n p a i n t e d . " But B l a n c had a double s t a n d a r d w i t h r e s p e c t t o d e c o r a t i o n : one r e g a r d i n g p u b l i c a r t , and a n o t h e r one f o r p r i v a t e l y owned a r t . The l a t t e r was supposed t o t r a n s p o r t the v i e w e r " i n t o the i d e a l w o r l d , " t o s e r v e as a means o f e s c a p i n g r e a l i t y . I f he owned a p r i v a t e h o t e l , he s a i d , he would have l i k e d t o d e c o r a t e i t s w a l l s w i t h P u v i s 1 p a n e l s . W i t h r e g a r d t o t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s ( i n w h i c h he d i d n o t , as a r u l e , i n c l u d e - 18 - m u r a l s ) , d e s t i n e d m o s t l y f o r the p r i v a t e enjoyment o f an e l i t e , he recommended the form and c o n t e n t o f an I d e a l i s t a r t , as i s e v i d e n t i n h i s Gramma i r e : des a r t s : d e c o r a t i f s, t h e s e q u e l t o 25 t h e Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n . B l a n c was an adept o f t h e I d e a l i s t a e s t h e t i c o f Kant and S c h i l l e r , Hegel and S c h e l l i n g , i n t h e form p r o p a g a t e d i n France by V i c t o r C o u s i n , w h i c h was 2 6 q u i t e c l o s e t o t h e t h e o r y of. " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake." A t t h e same time he was i n f l u e n c e d by the w r i t i n g s o f Lamennais, as w e l l as by Proudhon. The l a s t two p e r s o n a l i t i e s were p o l e s a p a r t i n p o l i t i c a l and r e l i g i o u s b e l i e f s , but t h e y b o t h f o u g h t the c o n c e p t o f a r t f o r a r t ' s sake. The c o n n e c t i o n w i t h Proudhon i s easy t o u n d e r s t a n d , s i n c e L o u i s B l a n c , C h a r l e s ' b r o t h e r was - an a r d e n t b e l i e v e r i n the s o c i a l r o l e o f a r t . L i k e Proudhon, who s a i d t h a t "The a r t i s t whose work ... p l e a s e s the g r e a t e s t number w i l l be r a t e d the g r e a t e s t o f a l l C h a r l e s B l a n c c o n s i d e r e d t h a t the work o f a r t " i s ennobled by t h e number o f 27 s p e c t a t o r s who e n j o y x t . " But u n l x k e Proudhon, B l a n c was a g a i n s t r e a l i s m . He admired Lamennais, who was a C a t h o l i c L i b e r a l , and who i n 1830 and 1831 p u b l i s h e d t o g e t h e r w i t h 28 L a c o r d a i r e and Montalembert t h e j o u r n a l L ' A v e n i r . Lamennais s a i d t h a t " a r t i s o n l y the e x t e r i o r shape o f i d e a s , the ex- p r e s s i o n o f r e l i g i o u s dogma, and o f the dominant s o c i a l 29 p r i n c i p l e i n c e r t a i n epochs." He c o n s i d e r e d t h a t " A r t f o r a r t ' s sake i s an a b s u r d i t y . " L i k e the S a i n t - S i m o n i a n s , he saw i n " i n d u s t r y " an a c t i v i t y t h a t s h o u l d e n j o y the same d i g n i t y as t h e a r t s and the s c i e n c e s . Thus, as A l b e r t Cassagne p o i n t e d o u t i n 1905 i n h i s book L a T h e o r i e de l ' a r t pour l ' a r t , Lamennais ^ r e a c h e d c o n c l u s i o n s s i m i l a r t o t h o s e o f L o u i s B l a n c , Proudhon - 19 - and t h e S a i n t - S i m o n i a n s . Whatever e c l e c t i c i n f l u e n c e s B l a n c a c c e p t e d , i t i s . c l e a r t h a t he b e l i e v e d i n the p r a c t i c a l u t i l i t y o f a r t (as d e c o r a t i o n o f homes or o b j e c t s ) as l o n g as i t was not "grand a r t . " As an a c t i v e s u p p o r t e r o f the r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f the i n d u s t r i a l a r t s , he b e l i e v e d i n a " r e j u v e n a t i o n o f f i n e a r t s w i t h t h e purpose o f a p p l y i n g them t o i n d u s t r y , " and i n "wedding the b e a u t i f u l and 31 *1 t h e u s e f u l . " B l a n c s h a r e d Merimee's, de L a b o r d e ' s , and f o r t h a t m a t t e r t h e Emperor's (who d e c o r a t e d Henry C o l e i n 1855) a d m i r a t i o n f o r England's achievements, e s p e c i a l l y f o r t h e South K e n s i n g t o n system. I n e s t a b l i s h i n g the p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a - t i v e a r t s i n h i s Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s (which w i l l be d i s c u s s e d more i n d e t a i l l a t e r ) , B l a n c was i n agreement w i t h Owen Jones,' g e n e r a l p r i n c i p l e s , f a i t h f u l t o the " o f f i c i a l " 32 l i n e . But he d i d not d e a l m o s t l y w i t h ornamental a b s t r a c t d e s i g n , as Jones and C o l e ' s c i r c l e d i d , and as I mentioned b e f o r e , he d i d u p h o l d t h e "Western t r a d i t i o n " e x p r e s s e d e s - p e c i a l l y by h i s p r e d i l e c t i o n f o r c o l o u r " g r a d a t i o n , " as opposed t o f l a t t i n t s . As c o n c e r n s t h e q u e s t i o n o f " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" (a key i s s u e i n t h i s p a p e r ) , even i f B l a n c a v o i d s u s i n g t h i s term w h i c h he h a l f - d r e a d e d , u l t i m a t e l y t h i s i s what he recommends f o r the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . D e c o r a t i v e a r t s such as t h e a r t o f t a p e s t r y , i n v o l v e scenes w i t h f i g u r e s , and t h e y were not supposed t o convey p o w e r f u l e m o t i o n s , t o be e l o q u e n t , t o s e r v e any m o r a l i z i n g purpose. They s i m p l y had t o t r a n s p o r t t h e v i e w e r i n t o a w o r l d o f dreams, i n t o an i d e a l w o r l d , t o p l e a s e t h e eye and the " s p i r i t . " He r e q u i r e d e l o q u e n c e , as we have - 20 - a l r e a d y seen, o n l y from the "grand a r t " w h i c h was supposed t o i n s p i r e n o b l e s e n t i m e n t s . As much as he wanted t o p r e s e r v e t h e K a n t i a n autonomy o f a work o f a r t , he c o u l d . n o t f o r s a k e h i s b e l i e f o f a 1848 " r e v o l u t i o n a r y . " These b e l i e f s r e q u i r e d a r t t o have a m o b i l i z i n g , example s e t t i n g r o l e (by p o r t r a y i n g h e r o i c a c t s ) i n s o c i e t y . B l a n c found h i m s e l f a t the t h r e s h o l d o f c h a n g i n g c o n c e p t s : t h e dichotomy o f "pure a r t " v e r s u s " a p p l i e d a r t " w i l l soon be- come o f l e s s importance than the dichotomy o f " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" v e r s u s m o r a l a r t and " l i t e r a t u r e " ( l i t e r a r y a r t ) . So f a r the d i s c u s s i o n has been f o c u s s e d on t h e c o n f l i c t between "Academy" and t h e " O f f i c i a l s . " The i n t e r e s t s o f two o t h e r i m p o r t a n t groups i n v o l v e d i n the a c t u a l r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f t h e i n d u s t r i a l a r t s , t h e i n d u s t r i a l i s t s and t h e a r t i s t s , were i n c o n f l i c t w i t h each o t h e r . The I n d u s t r i a l i s t s , t h e m a n u f a c t u r e r s o f i n d u s t r i a l a r t s , j o i n e d t h e i r e f f o r t s t o form a p r i v a t e e n t e r p r i s e (which d i d , however, g e t s u p p o r t from the Government), the Union C e n t r a i e des B e a u x - A r t s a p p l i q u e s a l ' i n d u s t r i e ; founded on J u l y 1864, t h i s was renamed Union C e n t r a i e des A r t s D g c o r a t i f s a f t e r un- i f i c a t i o n w i t h t h e S o c i e t y o f t h e Museum o f D e c o r a t i v e A r t s , i n 1880. The purpose o f t h e Union C e n t r a i e was t o c e n t r a l i z e the i n d u s t r i a l and d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , t a k i n g t h e South K e n s i n g t o n System as i t s model. I t o r g a n i z e d a museum o f a r t o b j e c t s o f v a r i o u s p e r i o d s , p e r i o d i c a l e x h i b i t i o n s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s ( r e t r o s p e c t i v e and c o n t e m p o r a r y ) , p u b l i c l e c t u r e s and a l i b r a r y . The i n t e n t i o n t o c r e a t e a C o l l e g e de b e a u x - a r t s a p p l i q u € s a l ' i n d u s t r i e never q u i t e m a t e r i a l i z e d . Because o f t o o z e a l o u s s u p p o r t on the p a r t - 21 - o f Ch. B l a n c and E. G u i l l a u m e , t h e Union C e n t r a l e was i n f i l - 33 t r a t e d w i t h academic t r a d i t i o n . I n s t e a d o f a s i m p l e form o f i n s t r u c t i o n i n f l a t o r n a m e n t a l d e s i g n as most a p p r o p r i a t e f o r w a l l p a p e r s , l i k e t h a t o f f e r e d i n H. C o l e ' s s c h o o l s o f d e s i g n , t h e Union C e n t r a l e o f f e r e d l e c t u r e s i n geometry and p e r s p e c t i v e , as w e l l as i n o t h e r s c i e n c e s , and a e s t h e t i c t h e o r i e s such as i n t h e l e c t u r e s d e l i v e r e d by Ch. B l a n c h i m s e l f , c o n t a i n i n g e x c e r p t s from h i s y e t u n p u b l i s h e d book, Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n . Union C e n t r a l e d i d n o t f u l f i l one o f the main purposes f o r w h i c h i t was c r e a t e d , t h a t i s t o a t t r a c t a r t i s t s i n v o l v e d i n f i n e a r t s i n t o t h e f i e l d o f i n d u s t r i a l a r t s , p r e c i s e l y because i t was i n t h e hands o f " i n d u s t r i a l i s t s , " and d i d not r e p r e s e n t 34 t h e a r t i s t s ' i n t e r e s t s . The A r t i s t s who s p e c i a l i z e d i n " h i g h a r t " were t h e p r o d u c t o f a p r o c e s s o f " d i v i s i o n o f l a b o r " t h a t gave them a v e r y s p e c i a l s t a t u s , w h i c h t h e y wanted t o m a i n t a i n . Academic a r t i s t s f o r a l o n g time r e s i s t e d t h e i n v a s i o n o f the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n t o t h e S a l o n , on "an e q u a l f o o t i n g w i t h t h e f i n e a r t s . As l o n g as t h e s t a t u s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s was g e n e r a l l y c o n s i d e r e d " i n f e r i o r " t o t h a t o f " h i g h a r t , " the j u s t e m i l i e u a r t i s t s o r t h e a v a n t - 35 garde a r t i s t s were not i n t e r e s t e d e i t h e r . To a t t r a c t a r t i s t s who d i d not a l r e a d y have t h e s t a t u s o f " d e c o r a t o r " i n t o the f i e l d o f i n d u s t r i a l o r d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n o r d e r t o "improve t h e s t a n d a r d s " , . w o u l d have been p o s s i b l e o n l y i n one of t h e f o l l o w i n g two s i t u a t i o n s : 1) The a r t i s t s are committed t o t h e s o c i a l r o l e o f a r t , t o t h e f a c t t h a t t h e " b e a u t i f u l " and. t h e " u s e f u l " - 22 - s h o u l d be u n i t e d , and a r e even p r e p a r e d t o d e s i g n f o r i n d u s t r i a l m a s s - p r o d u c t i o n , (thus a c c e p t i n g the r o l e o f "the machine" i n o r d e r t o r e a c h more p e o p l e , w i t h cheaper p r o d u c t s ) . 2) The d i f f e r e n c e i n s t a t u s between " h i g h a r t " and . " d e c o r a t i v e a r t " i s a b o l i s h e d , t h u s a r t i s t s h e l d back by s c r u p l e s connected w i t h " s t a t u s - , " can now t a k e advantage o f a n o t h e r m a r k e t i n g o u t l e t , w i t h o u t f e e l i n g t h e y a r e " p r o s t i t u t i n g " t h e m s e l v e s . I t i s even b e t t e r i f i t i s emphasized t h a t t h e " d e c o r a t i v e a r t s " are " e l i t i s t , " " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake," as opposed t o the so- c a l l e d " f i n e a r t " e x h i b i t e d a t t h e S a l o n , t h a t c a t e r e d t o t h e t a s t e o f the p e t i t - b o u r g e o i s crowd. Thus t h e " d e c o r a t i v e a r t s " c o u l d even be c o n s i d e r e d as s u p e r i o r t o S a l o n a r t . The f i r s t s i t u a t i o n never q u i t e m a t e r i a l i z e d i n France i n t h e second h a l f o f the 19th c e n t u r y . A t f i r s t , o f f i c i a l p r o - paganda, i n t h e 1860s t r i e d t o a t t r a c t a r t i s t s w i t h the s l o g a n o f " u n i t i n g the b e a u t i f u l w i t h the u s e f u l , " a l o n g t h e l i n e s o f an o u t d a t e d U t o p i a n S a i n t - S i m o n i s m . (The i d e a s o f u n i t i n g a r t and i n d u s t r y o r i g i n a t e d i n f a c t i n the 1830s i n F r a n c e , prompted by such i d e a l s . ) Such propaganda was not v e r y s u c c e s s f u l , e s p e c i a l l y when i t was c l e a r t h a t t h e m a n u f a c t u r e r s , t h e " i n d u s t r i a l i s t s " were the ones r e a p i n g t h e p r o f i t s . The a r t i s t s - i n d u s t r i a l i s t s c o n f l i c t became more a c u t e i n the l a t e r p a r t o f t h e c e n t u r y , when many a r t i s t s , i n s p i r e d by the example o f W i l l i a m M o r r i s and t h e B r i t i s h A r t s and C r a f t s movement r e a l i z e d t h a t by t h e m s e l v e s p r o d u c i n g " a r t o b j e c t s " f o r amateurs, a p o t e n t i a l market was open t o them. But t h e r e are s i g n i f i c a n t d i f f e r e n c e s between the r e v i v a l o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n E n g l a n d and B e l g i u m on one hand, and i n France on t h e o t h e r . M o r r i s and h i s group, as w e l l as t h e B e l g i a n a r t i s t s (such as H e n r i Van de V e l d e ) , b e l i e v e d i n the s o c i a l r o l e o f a r t . The f a c t t h a t F r e n c h a r t i s t s became i n t e r e s t e d i n M o r r i s 1 achievements (and n o t i n Henry C o l e ' s , as t h e Government and t h e i n d u s t r i a l i s t s were) had n o t h i n g t o do w i t h R u s k i n ' s " G o t h i c " h u m i l i t y " t h a t M o r r i s p r o f e s s e d , w h i c h i n f a c t i m p l i e d t h e l o w e r i n g o f t h e s p e c i a l s t a t u s t h e a r t i s t g a i n e d i n t h e c a p i - t a l i s t s o c i e t y . I r o n i c a l l y , t h e s o c i a l i s t M o r r i s , l a r g e l y be- cause o f h i s h a t r e d o f t h e machine o r any p o s t - m e d i e v a l methods o f p r o d u c t i o n , produced " a r t o b j e c t s " t h a t o n l y a w e a l t h y e l i t e c o u l d e n j o y . I t was t h i s p r o s p e c t o f " a r t i s t i c " v e r s u s i n d u s t r i a l m a s s - p r o d u c t i o n t h a t a p p e a l e d t o t h e F r e n c h a r t i s t s , and n o t t h e v i r t u e s o f t h e humble m e d i e v a l a r t i s a n . J u s t t h e o p p o s i t e , t h e y s e i z e d t h e o p p o r t u n i t y t o r a i s e t h e s t a t u s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s t o t h a t o f f i n e a r t s . The f a c t t h a t d u r i n g t h e 1890s t h e r e was a renewed a s s o c i a t i o n o f t h e a r t i s t i c ( v i s u a l ) avant-garde w i t h t h e p o l i t i c a l a v a n t - g a r d e , w i t h s o c i a l r a d i c a l i s m i n F r a n c e , d i d n o t a f f e c t the a r t i s t s ' p o s i t i o n w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e i n d u s t r i a l a r t s . F r a n c e d i d n o t produce a H e n r i van de V e l d e , B e l g i u m d i d , even though t h e r e were i n France l o u d v o i c e s t h a t t r i e d t o m o b i l i s e a r t i s t s t o p u t t h e i r a r t i n the s e r v i c e o f t h e p e o p l e , such as H. Nocq's: J 1 a t t e n d avec i m p a t i e n c e l e r e t o u r des a r t i s t e s a 1 ' I n d u s t r i e . Grace a l a p r o d u c t i o n mecanique l e u r s o e u v r e s s e r o n t m i s e s a l a p o r t e e du p l u s grand nombre e t a i n s i s e r v i r o n t au p r o g r e s s o c i a l . ^ 6 - 2:4 - I do n o t i n t e n d t o d i s c u s s B e l g i u m h e r e , b u t the c l o s e r r e l a t i o n s h i p between the a r t i s t s and the Worker's p a r t y i n t h a t c o u n t r y can throw a l i g h t on t h e d i f f e r e n c e s between F r e n c h and B e l g i a n a v a n t - g a r d e s . (For t h e d i f f e r e n c e s between t h e " c o l l e c t i v i s t " movements i n France and B e l g i u m , and t h e i r r e s p e c t i v e p o s i t i o n s toward a r t , see Eugenia H e r b e r t , The A r t i s t and S o c i a l Reform, 1961.) Not o n l y was t h e s o c i a l i s t movement weaker t h a n t h e a n a r c h i s t movement a t the t i m e i n F r a n c e , b u t a l s o i t d i d not g i v e a r t s u f f i c i e n t t h o u g h t . On t h e o t h e r hand, t h e a n a r c h i s t movement made a s p e c i a l e f f o r t t o a t t r a c t a r t i s t s , and i t s emphasis on " i n d i v i d u a l i s m " a l s o a p p e a l e d t o F r e n c h a r t i s t s , most o f them.coming from b o u r g e o i s 37 backgrounds. Thus t h e N e o 7 l m p r e s s i o n i s t s among p a i n t e r s were a n a r c h i s t s y m p a t h i s e r s . They b e l i e v e d t h a t e v e n t u a l l y , i n t h e f u t u r e , a r t s h o u l d be i n t e g r a t e d w i t h the whole s o c i e t y , but f o r t h e time b e i n g , i n t h e i r p r e s e n t s o c i e t y t h e y d i d not c o n s i d e r t h i s p o s s i b l e . T h e i r a r t was produced e s s e n t i a l l y f o r an e l i t e o f amateurs, and as Eugenia and R o b e r t H e r b e r t have p o i n t e d o u t , p a r a d o x i c a l l y , i t was p r e c i s e l y i n the 1890s, when t h e i r c o l l a b o r a t i o n w i t h t h e a n a r c h i s t movement became most m i l i t a n t , t h a t the a r t i s t s adopted a more pronounced " a r t 3 8 f o r a r t ' s sake" p o s i t i o n . S i g n a c , f o r example, was w e l l aware o f the d i s c r e p a n c y between h i s p o l i t i c a l c o n v i c t i o n s and the a e s t h e t i c ones, and t r i e d a t v a r i o u s o c c a s i o n s t o j u s t i f y i t . For example, i n June 1891, i n the a r t i c l e " I m p r e s s i o n i s t e s e t R e v o l u t i o n n a i r e s , " s i g n e d "an I m p r e s s i o n i s t Comrade," S i g n a c s a i d : - 25 - I t would t h u s be an e r r o r , i n t o w h i c h t h e b e s t i n t e n t i o n e d r e v o l u t i o n a r i e s , l i k e , Proudhon, a l l t o o o f t e n have f a l l e n , s y s t e m a t i c a l l y t o r e q u i r e a p r e c i s e s o c i a l i s t tendency i n works o f a r t , f o r t h i s tendency w i l l be found much more p o w e r f u l and e l o q u e n t i n t h e pure a e s t h e t e s , r e v o l u t i o n a r i e s by temperament, who, moving f a r o f f the b e a t e n p a t h , p a i n t what t h e y see as t h e y f e e l i t , and v e r y o f t e n u n c o n s c i o u s l y g i v e a h a r d blow o f t h e p i c k - a x e t o t h e o l d s o c i a l s t r u c t u r e . 3 ^ C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o was another a n a r c h i s t s y m p a t h i s e r , a member o f t h e C l u b de 1'Art S o c i a l , and p r o f e s s e d h a t r e d o f the c a p i t a l i s t s o c i e t y . Y e t h i s a t t i t u d e was t h a t o f the F r e n c h a v a n t - g a r d e i n g e n e r a l , t h a t i s e l i t i s t . He was i n t e r e s t e d i n e d u c a t i n g o n l y t h e a r t i s t i c t a s t e o f an e l i t e o f "buyers," as opposed t o C a r r i e r e (a " j u s t e m i l i e u " p a i n t e r ) , o r t o t h e c r i t i c Gustave G e f f r o y ( a l s o not e x a c t l y an a v a n t - g a r d e . w r i t e r ) , who wanted t o educate t h e w o r k e r s . ^ , I t i s e v i d e n t t h a t , as Chesneau remarked, F r e n c h a r t i s t s 41 had the tendency t o a s p i r e toward t h e l o f t i e r l e v e l s o f a r t . As l o n g as t h e i n d u s t r i a l and d e c o r a t i v e a r t s were c o n s i d e r e d as a c t i v i t i e s o f a l e s s e r s t a t u s (an a t t i t u d e s u p p o r t e d by t h e Academy) t h e a r t i s t s ' response was l e s s t h a n e n t h u s i a s t i c . T h i s f a c t was u n d e r s t o o d by t h e non-Academic o f f i c i a l s and o t h e r p a r t i e s i n t e r e s t e d i n t h e r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , and t h e campaign t h e y l a u n c h e d s i n c e the l a t e 1870s was based on the e q u a l i z a t i o n i n s t a t u s . I n v o l v e d i n t h i s campaign were I n s p e c t o r s o f B e a u x - A r t s , such as Roger B a l l u and Henry Havard, V i c t o r Champier, t h e d i r e c t o r o f t h e Revue des A r t s D e c o r a t i f s (founded i n 1880 as an organ o f t h e Union C e n t r a l e ) / v and o f f i c i a l i n the B e a u x - A r t s a d m i n i s t r a t i o n , and Roger Marx, who was a c r i t i c and e d i t o r o f t h e G a z e t t e des Beaux A r t s . Marx - 2.6 - was a l s o an exemplar o f a new s p e c i e s : "the e n l i g h t e n e d amateur o f modern a r t , " who formed t h a t " e l i t e " o f c o n n o i s s e u r s , t h a t s p e c i a l group o f the b o u r g e o i s i e f o r whom t h e avant-garde was c r e a t i n g . He was w e l l aware o f t h e r o l e o f t h e " W r i t e r " i n i n - f l u e n c i n g t h e d e s t i n y o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n France i n the 19th c e n t u r y , and w h i l e r e m i n d i n g h i s r e a d e r s o f the "movements o f o p i n i o n " i n c i t e d by V i c t o r Hugo, V i o l l e t T l e - D u c o r de Laborde, he c a r r i e d on h i s own propaganda t o b r i n g f i n e a r t s and d e c o r - 42 . . . a t i v e a r t s t o an e q u a l s t a t u s . T h i s e q u a l i z a t i o n i n s t a t u s d i d n o t mean t h e " d e b a s i n g " o f t h e f i n e a r t s , but j u s t t h e o p p o s i t e , r a i s i n g t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s t o the h i g h e r l e v e l o c c u p i e d by a s t a t u e , and e s p e c i a l l y by a t a b l e a u . Roger Marx c o n t r i b u t e d h i s o r g a n i s i n g s k i l l s t o t h e opening o f a s e c t i o n o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s a t t h e S a l o n o f t h e S o c i e t e N a t i o n a l e des 43 B e a u x - A r t s , h e l d a t t h e Champ-de-Mars. T h i s was a second S a l o n , o r g a n i z e d by. a second " s o c i e t y o f a r t i s t s , " t h a t e x h i b i t e d n o n - j u r i e d works, awarded no p r i z e s , and promoted m a i n l y t h e p a i n t e r s o f t h e j u s t e m i l i e u . T h i s second s o c i e t y (the f i r s t one b e i n g , o f c o u r s e , t h e academic o r i e n t e d S o c i e t e des A r t i s t e s F r a n c a i s t h a t h e l d S a l o n s on t h e Champs- E l y s e e s ) was formed i n 1890 a t t h e i n i t i a t i v e o f M e i s s o n i e r (as P r e s i d e n t ) and P u v i s de Chavannes ( V i c e - P r e s i d e n t ) . The i d e a o f a S a l o n o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s was n o t new; i t had been t r i e d i n 1882 by the Union C e n t r a i e , w h i c h had opened such a S a l o n , s i d e by s i d e and s i m u l t a n e i o u s l y w i t h t h e r e g u l a r 44 • S a l o n . But Union C e n t r a i e was not p o p u l a r w i t h t h e a r t i s t s . The a r t i s t s - i n d u s t r i a l i s t s c o n f l i c t was r e f l e c t e d i n t h e a r t i s t s ' b i t t e r n e s s towards t h e Union C e n t r a i e (which was c o n t r o l l e d by - 27 - t h e i n d u s t r i a l i s t s ) , whose p e r i o d i c a l e x h i b i t i o n s a t t h e P a l a i s de l ' i n d u s t r i e t h e y c o n s i d e r e d " e x c l u s i v e l y c o m m e r c i a l " and as s e r i o u s c o m p e t i t i o n f o r t h e s e c t i o n o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s a t t h e S a l o n o f t h e Champ-de-Mafs. The a r t i s t s f e l t t h a t t h e Union C e n t r a l e d i d not d e s e r v e the f i n a n c i a l h e l p i t r e c e i v e d from t h e Government, e s p e c i a l l y when i t r e p r e s e n t e d a p o r t i o n o f t h e budget o f t h e B e a u x - A r t s . T h i s resentment was p a r t i c u l a r l y s t r o n g i n t h e e a r l y 1890s, when a c o n s c i o u s e f f o r t t o c r e a t e a new s t y l e i n t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s was h i n d e r e d by t h e i n d u s - t r i a l i s t s and merchants, who c o n s i d e r e d i t more p r o f i t a b l e t o i m i t a t e o l d e r s t y l e s . The a r t i s t s wanted more p e r s o n a l r e - c o g n i t i o n , t h e y wanted t o s i g n t h e i r a r t o b j e c t , t h e y wanted s t a t u s . T h i s was e s p e c i a l l y i m p o r t a n t f o r t h e avant-garde a r t i s t s . The F r e n c h a r t i s t i c avant-garde was e l i t i s t by d e f i n i t i o n , a l i e n a t e d from t h e c u l t u r e o f t h e d o m i n a t i n g c l a s s - t h e b o u r g e o i s i e - as w e l l as from mass c u l t u r e . The a v a n t - garde c o u l d have been a t t r a c t e d o n l y by t h e p r o s p e c t o f p r o d u c i n g an e l i t i s t a r t , an a r t w h i c h they, c o u l d judge " s u p e r i o r " because i t was not making any c o n c e s s i o n s t o t h e v u l g a r " t a s t e " o f the crowd. F o r the a v a n t - g a r d e , " a r t f o r 45 a r t ' s sake" became a "code o f p r o f e s s i o n a l e t h i c s . " I f members o f t h e F r e n c h avant-garde p a i n t i n g were a t t r a c t e d i n t o t h e f i e l d o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , i t was not because t h e y wanted t o u n i t e "the b e a u t i f u l " and "the u s e f u l , " but because t h e y were a t t r a c t e d by t h e " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" a s p e c t o f t h e de- c o r a t i v e a r t s . In d o i n g so, t h e " u t i l i t a r i a n " s i d e o f the de- c o r a t i v e a r t s became secondary. T h i s approach t o d e c o r a t i v e a r t s was emphasized d u r i n g the 188 0s and 1890s by a n t i - a c a d e m i c - 28 - w r i t e r s such as E r n e s t Chesneau or. Henry Havard, who a l s o s h a r e d an a n t i p a t h y f o r the B r i t i s h , and a b e l i e f i n t h e s u p e r - 46 i o r i t y o f F r e n c h a r t i s t i c g e n i u s . As Chesneau p u t i t , F r e n c h " 47 a r t i s above t h e , " s t a t i s t i c s c o n c e r n i n g commercial e x p o r t . He was a g a i n s t the F r e n c h Government's a d o p t i n g B r i t i s h - t y p e s c h o o l s o f i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n , w h i c h o f c o u r s e were i n t e n d e d f o r 48 t h e development o f mass-produced i n d u s t r i a l a r t s . I n F r a n c e , " i n d u s t r i a l a r t " became more and more a p e j o r a t i v e term i n a r t i s t i c c i r c l e s , w h i l e " d e c o r a t i v e a r t " was a s s o c i a t e d w i t h 49 " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake." I n t h e " d e c o r a t i v e a r t s " the accent:'' was on the f o r m a l elements (shapes, c o l o u r s ) d i s p o s e d i n such 50 way as t o gxve p l e a s u r e t o t h e eye and " s p i r i t . " Havard c l e a r l y s t a t e d t h a t t h e a r t i s t s p r a c t i c i n g t h e B e a u x - A r t s were e a s i l y u n d e r s t o o d by t h e crowd (la. f o u l e ) , w h i l e t h o s e i n v o l v e d i n the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s "can be a p p r e c i a t e d o n l y by an e l i t e o f c o n o i s s e u r s . " He c o n s i d e r e d t h a t t h e " f a l s e h i e r a r c h y e s t a b l i s h e d i n t h e a r t s " comes from t h e f a c t t h a t " i n a l l 51 txmes t h e i g n o r a n t s were more numerous." To i l l u s t r a t e the a v a n t - g a r d e ' s i n v o l v e m e n t i n t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s I w i l l mention Gauguin, E m i l e B e r n a r d and t h e a r t i s t s o f t h e N a b i group. When Gauguin a p p l i e d h i m s e l f t o c e r a m i c s (he worked w i t h t h e famous c e r a m i c i s t C h a p e l e t ) f o r example, he d i d n o t t h i n k i n t h e f i r s t p l a c e o f p r o d u c i n g " u s e f u l o b j e c t s , " b u t " a r t o b j e c t s . " T h i s i s e v i d e n t from a l e t t e r he w r o t e h i s w i f e i n 1886: I am engaged i n making a r t p o t t e r y . S c h u f f e n e c k e r says t h e y are m a s t e r p i e c e s and so does the maker, b u t t h e y a r e p r o b a b l y t o o a r t i s t i c t o be s o l d . However, he says t h a t i f t h i s i d e a c o u l d e v e r be i n t r o d u c e d i n - t o an e x h i b i t i o n o f t h e i n d u s t r i a l a r t s , i t would have an amazing success.52 Thus Gauguin was t h i n k i n g i n terms o f " a r t p o t t e r y , " "master- p i e c e s . " He a l s o l e f t no doubt as f o r whom he i n t e n d e d h i s work; a n s w e r i n g an i n q u i r y whose purpose was t o probe t h e e x i s t e n c e o f a "Renaissance o f t h e a r t - i n d u s t r i e s " and t h e e v e n t u a l emergence o f a "new s t y l e , " Gauguin d e c l a r e d : Ne'. c h e r c h e z pas l a s o l u t i o n de v o t r e probleme dans l a r u e , p r e s des monuments p u b l i c s , dans l e s b o u t i q u e s des marchands. Chez 1." amateur seulement vous v e r r e z ce q u i a € t e f a i t . E t pour c e l a , n u l b e s o i n d'un grand nombre, du r e s t e l e s c h e f s - d ' o e u v r e ne se remuent pas a l a p e l l e . ^ 3 H i s " m a s t e r p i e c e s , " d e c o r a t i v e a r t o b j e c t s produced i n l i m i t e d q u a n t i t y , were d e s t i n e d f o r an e l i t e o f amateurs. Of c o u r s e , one s h o u l d n o t n e g l e c t the economic r e a s o n s , t h e poor f i n a n c i a l s i t u a t i o n t h a t l e d some a v a n t - g a r d e a r t i s t s i n t o t h e f i e l d o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . E m i l e B e r n a r d , f o r example, even t r i e d h i s hand a t i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n i n 1890 ( w i t h o u t much 54 s u c c e s s ) i n o r d e r t o e a r n a l i v i n g . He a l s o took c o u r s e s a t t h e E c o l e des A r t D e c o r a t i f s b e f o r e he e n t r e d Acadgmie Cormon 55 i n 1885. B e r n a r d was one o f t h e f i r s t avant-garde p a i n t e r s t o be i n v o l v e d i n the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s : s t a i n e d - g l a s s windows, t a p e s t r y , e m b r o i d e r y , e t c . But e v e r y t h i n g was done i n t h e name o f a r t f o r a r t ' s sake. I n 1891 (as i s e v i d e n t from a l e t t e r t o S c h u f f e n e c k e r ) , B e r n a r d proposed i n f a c t t h e f o u n d a t i o n o f a s o c i e t y w i t h , t h e s l o g a n 1' A r t pour 1' A r t . ~*̂ T a p e s t r i e s and o t h e r d e c o r a t i v e a r t s were on t h e l i s t o f t h e a r t o b j e c t s t o be produced by t h i s s o c i e t y . The N a b i s ' i n v o l v e m e n t w i t h t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s was e x t e n s i v e . Denis and Ranson even d e s i g n e d " a r t i s t i c " w a l l - 57 p a p e r s . Most o f the N a b i s ' work (except f o r c h u r c h com- m i s s i o n s ) was d e s t i n e d f o r t h e d e c o r a t i o n o f t h e apartments - 3D - o f w e l l - t o - d o amateurs (such as Thadee Natanson f o r example), 58 not o f w o r k e r s . The propaganda aimed a t b r i n g i n g f i n e a r t s and d e c o r a t i v e a r t s onto an equal: f o o t i n g i n o r d e r t o r e v i v e (and e v e n t u a l l y t o c r e a t e a new s t y l e o f ) F r e n c h d e c o r a t i o n , t h u s a t t r a c t e d avant-garde a r t i s t s , such as t h e members o f Pont-Aven o r N a b i groups. They e x h i b i t e d t h e i r d e c o r a t i v e a r t a t t h e Tndependants, a t t h e S a l o n o f Champ-de-Mars, o r a t B i n g ' s , and r i g h t from t h e s t a r t t h e y had t h e s u p p o r t o f Roger Marx, who as I i n d i c a t e d , had an i m p o r t a n t r o l e i n the campaign t h a t r a i s e d t h e s t a t u s 59 o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . I n t r y i n g t o c o n c l u d e t o what e x t e n t t h e d e s i r e d r e - v i t a l i z a t i o n (even a " R e n a i s s a n c e " as some c a l l e d i t ) o f F r e n c h d e c o r a t i o n was r e a l i z e d i n p r a c t i c e , one can say t h a t i t was a c h i e v e d i n t h e d e c o r a t i v e r a t h e r than i n i n d u s t r i a l a r t s per s e , and t h a t i t r e a c h e d i t s peak i n the decade o f t h e 1890s. The home-grown " A r t Nouveau", t h a t a s s i m i l a t e d Japanese and Rococo i n f l u e n c e s i n t o a new s t y l e i n s p i r e d by n a t u r a l , o r g a n i c shapes, e x c e l l e d e s p e c i a l l y i n " a r t o b j e c t s , " o n e - o f - a k i n d , o r l i m i t e d e d i t i o n s . T h i s new, s p e c i f i c a l l y F r e n c h , d e c o r a t i v e s t y l e s h o u l d n o t be equated w i t h the a b s o l u t e l y f l a t A r t Nouveau s t y l e t h a t f i r s t appeared i n B e l g i u m and became more o r l e s s an i n t e r n a t i o n a l s t y l e . The l a t t e r , w h i l e i t drew from F r e n c h s o u r c e s , was i n t e n d e d f o r m a s s - p r o d u c t i o n , and was a l s o s t r o n g l y i n f l u e n c e s by E n g l i s h i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n . The r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n France im- p l i e d a r e d e f i n i t i o n o f the p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n , as i t d i d i n England. I s h a l l f o c u s t h e d i s c u s s i o n f o r a w h i l e on - 31 - t h e s e " t r u e " p r i n c i p l e s , s i n c e t h e y were i m p o r t a n t not o n l y f o r t h e c o n v e n t i o n a l d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , but a l s o f o r t h e development o f e a s e l p a i n t i n g (as i t w i l l be e v i d e n t i n Chapter I , P a r t 2) . I would a l s o l i k e t o emphasize t h a t t h e s p e c i f i c way t h e r e - v i t a l i z a t i o n was p r o c e e d i n g i n F r a n c e , was r e f l e c t e d i n t h e s p e c i f i c way d e c o r a t i o n was d e f i n e d . E q u a t i n g d e c o r a t i o n w i t h a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s i s c o r r e c t o n l y f o r the o r n a m e n t a l d e s i g n o f f l a t p a t t e r n s , b e s t s u i t e d f o r w a l l - p a p e r s , such as f i r s t t a u g h t i n C o l e ' s s c h o o l s o f d e s i g n . In f a c t , i n my o p i n i o n , here l i e s the o r i g i n o f the m i s c o n c e p t i o n t h a t " d e c o r a t i v e " e q u a l s a f l a t l i n e a r d e s i g n and smooth c o l o u r . I n F r a n c e , as i n E n g l a n d , t h e r e s p e c t f o r the i n t e g r i t y o f t h e d e c o r a t e d o b j e c t became t h e b a s i c p r i n c i p l e o f d e c o r a t i o n . Thus a d e c o r a t i o n i n t e n d e d f o r a f l a t s u r f a c e such as a w a l l o r a f l o o r had t o a v o i d " p i e r c i n g h o l e s " i n i t w i t h i l l u s i o n i s t i c d e v i c e s . But i t i s i m p o r t a n t t o u n d e r l i n e t h a t F r e n c h r e - f o r m e r s d e f i n e d s p e c i f i c p r i n c i p l e s f o r each b r a n c h o f d e c o r a - t i v e a r t s , a l l o w i n g f o r v a r i o u s degrees o f " f l a t n e s s " among them. W a l l p a p e r s f o r example were suppose t o have f l a t d e s i g n s , b u t s i n c e t h e w a l l p a p e r i n d u s t r y was not t h e " n a t i o n a l i n d u s t r y " t h e r e t o t h e e x t e n t i t was i n E n g l a n d , t h i s k i n d o f d e s i g n was n o t so p r o m i n e n t l y emphasized. I n France t a p e s t r y weaving was c o n s i d e r e d the " n a t i o n a l i n d u s t r y , " and t h e r e f o r m e r s o f d e c o r a - t i v e a r t s i n t h i s c o u n t r y were v e r y much i n t e r e s t e d i n a " r e n a i s s a n c e " o f t h e t a p e s t r y i n d u s t r y based on t h e t r u e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n ( i n s t e a d o f i m i t a t i n g i l l u s i o n i s t i c t a b l e a u x ) , and a c c o r d e d s p e c i a l a t t e n t i o n t o t h i s s u b j e c t . B e f o r e d i s c u s s i n g the i s s u e o f " t a p e s t r y f l a t n e s s " I would - 32 - l i k e t o mention a few words about t h e r e v i v a l o f i n t e r e s t i n t h i s d e c o r a t i v e a r t . I n the second h a l f o f the 19th c e n t u r y , e s p e c i a l l y i n the l a t e 1870s, t h e a f f l u e n t F r e n c h B o u r g e o i s i e became i n t e r e s t e d i n t a p e s t r i e s f o r home d e c o r a t i o n . In h i s r e p o r t on t a p e s t r y a t t h e U n i v e r s a l E x h i b i t i o n o f 1878, D e n u e l l e remarked t h a t t h e use o f t a p e s t r i e s i n p r i v a t e homes 6 0 had become q u i t e w i d e s p r e a d . I n t h e l a t e 1870s - e a r l y 1880s, t h e r e was an " i n f a t u a t i o n w i t h t h e t a p e s t r i e s done a f t e r t h e c a r t o o n s o f Boucher and C o y p e l " w h i c h l e d t o a tremendous i n - 61 c r e a s e i n t h e i r p r i c e . The A d m i n i s t r a t i o n o f t h e G o b e l i n s r e a l i z e d t h e r e was a p o t e n t i a l market f o r modern t a p e s t r y among t h e l e s s w e a l t h y amateurs who c o u l d not a f f o r d t h e a n t i q u e s . Also, v a r i o u s p u b l i c b u i l d i n g s r e q u i r e d contemporary t a p e s t r i e s . The problem was t o f i n d good models, t h a t i s c a r t o o n s p a i n t e d i n accordance w i t h t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a - 6 2 t i o n . " O f f i c i a l " a e s t h e t i c i a n s , a d m i n i s t r a t o r s , i n d u s t r i - a l i s t s , showed c o n s i d e r a b l e c o n c e r n i n t h i s r e s p e c t . I n 1876 Union C e n t r a i e o r g a n i z e d an e x h i b i t i o n o f t a p e s t r i e s w h i c h , as t h e M a r q u i s de C h e n n e v i e r e s ( B l a n c ' s s u c c e s s o r as d i r e c t o r o f t h e B e a u x - A r t s p o i n t e d o u t , "would become the s t a r t i n g p o i n t o f so many s t u d i e s and p u b l i c a t i o n s o f t h e a r t , o f w h i c h t h e o r i g i n s and t h e laws were i n the p r o c e s s o f b e i n g e s - 63 t a b l i s h e d . " A t t h e t i m e o f the e x h i b i t i o n t h e d i r e c t o r o f t h e G o b e l i n s was A l f r e d D a r c e l , and he p u b l i s h e d i n t h e G a z e t t e des B e a u x - A r t s a s e r i e s o f a r t i c l e s e n t i t l e d " E x p o s i t i o n de 64 l ' h i s t o i r e de l a t a p i s s e r i e . " He l o o k e d a t t h e e x h i b i t i o n 65 as a t a " l e s s o n i n d e c o r a t i v e a r t t h r o u g h t a p e s t r y . " D a r c e l was i n complete a c c o r d on t h i s s u b j e c t w i t h C h a r l e s B l a n c , from - 33 - whose a r t i c l e "Le Musee des t a p i s . s e r . i e s " (Le Temps, 4 September 66 187 6) he a c t u a l l y quoted. The p r i n c i p l e s advocated f o r t h e modern t a p e s t r y drew upon o l d e r p e r i o d s , as l o n g as t h o s e p e r i o d s a v o i d e d t h e r e a l i s t i c trompe l ' o e i l and the "window" e f f e c t . The g e n e r a l consensus was t h a t t a p e s t r y s h o u l d not i m i t a t e t a b l e a u x . T h i s c r i t i c i s m was e s p e c i a l l y d i r e c t e d a g a i n s t t h e t a p e s t r i e s weaved i n t h e f i r s t h a l f o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y , which had t r i e d t o reproduce n o t " d e c o r a t i v e t a b l e a u x , " as t h e Rococo t a p e s t r i e s d i d ( i n f a c t a t the time t h e r e was a r e v i v a l o f b o t h M e d i e v a l and Rococo t a p e s t r i e s ) , b u t " e x p r e s s i v e " .tableaux such as The Pesthouse o f J a f f a by Gros, w i t h a l l i t s s u b t l e t i e s o f m o d e l l i n g . ^ ' 7 C h a r l e s B l a n c ' s Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s (1882) i s one o f t h e b e s t s o u r c e s f o r u n d e r s t a n d i n g the s p e c i f i c d i f - f e r e n c e s i n t h e r u l e s e s t a b l i s h e d by most r e f o r m e r s f o r v a r i o u s d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , such as: pavements, m e t a l work, w a l l p a p e r , t a p e s t r i e s , c a r p e t s , f u r n i t u r e , g l a s s - w o r k , c e r a m i c s , e t c . C a r p e t s , f o r example, were t o be f l a t and t h e i r d e s i g n were t o e x c l u d e the human f i g u r e . W a l l p a p e r s d e s i g n s c o u l d i n c l u d e human f i g u r e s , b u t r e n d e r e d i n f l a t t i n t s and s i l h o u e t t e d . I n t h e t a p e s t r i e s scenes w i t h f i g u r e s and.landscapes were a l l o w e d . The g e n e r a l g u i d i n g p r i n c i p l e s recommended by B l a n c f o r t a p e s t r y were t h e f o l l o w i n g : a v o i d a n c e o f t h e e f f e c t s o f l i n e a r and a t m o s p h e r i c p e r s p e c t i v e , and a v o i d a n c e o f c h i a r o s c u r o e f f e c t , w h i c h was t o be r e p l a c e d w i t h a " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t " t h a t gave 68 an i m p r e s s i o n o f o v e r a l u n i f o r m i t y o f v a l u e . I n o r d e r t o a v o i d t h e p e r s p e c t i v e e f f e c t , one b a s i c r u l e , a c c o r d i n g t o http://tapis.ser.ies B l a n c , was t o choose a v e r y h i g h v i e w p o i n t , w h i c h would a l s o 69 a v o i d . d i s p l a y i n g t o o much " s k y . " A good i l l u s t r a t i o n o f t h e d i f f e r e n c e between t h e p e r s p e c t i v e i n a t a p e s t r y and t h e one i n a t a b l e a u i s g i v e n i n Havard's La D e c o r a t i o n (c.1891, i n which he r e p a t e d much o f what B l a n c s a i d ) . He i l l u s t r a t e d t h i s d i s - t i n c t i o n w i t h two f i g u r e s : one r e p r e s e n t e d a 16th c e n t u r y F l e m i s h t a p e s t r y , the o t h e r t h e same t a p e s t r y "mise en p e r - 70 s p e c t i v e . " Havard commented: "The f i r s t one g i v e s the sen- s a t i o n o f a t a p e s t r y , t h e second one p i e r c e s t h e w a l l and has " 71 t h e a s p e c t o f a t a b l e a u . A v o i d i n g t h e p e r s p e c t i v e " e f f e c t " r e f e r s t o the scene as a whole, i t means a v o i d i n g t h e i l l u s i o n o f d e p t h , but i t does not e x c l u d e r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f i n d i v i d u a l o b j e c t s seen i n p e r s p e c t i v e . A l s o , t h e " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t " d i d not e x c l u d e m o d e l l i n g o f i n d i v i d u a l volumes ( a l b e i t r u d i m e n t a r i l y and not by s u b t l e g r a d a t i o n s as i n p a i n t i n g ) , i n o t h e r words d i d 72 n o t e x c l u d e an e f f e c t o f r e l i e f . Even w i t h o u t an o u t l i n i n g o f t h e c o n t o u r s , a t a p e s t r y g i v e s t h e i m p r e s s i o n o f o u t l i n i n g shapes w i t h a l o s t - a n d - f o u n d c o n t o u r , due t o i t s s l i t s . B l a n c d i d not s p e c i f i c a l l y r e q u i r e a f i r m o u t - l i n i n g o f shapes (he, as I w i l l d i s c u s s l a t e r , s t i l l b e l i e v e d i n t h e o l d academic p r e j u d i c e about the i r r e c o n c i l a b i l i t y o f " l i n e " , and " c o l o u r , " and b e l i e v e d c o l o u r s h o u l d dominate i n d e c o r a t i o n ) , b u t most r e f o r m e r s r e q u i r e d a c l e a r d e f i n i t i o n o f forms i n d e c o r a t i o n , t a p e s t r y i n c l u d e d . In D e n u e l l e ' s r e p o r t o f 1877, l e t r a i t de r e d e s s i n e e i s c o n s i d e r e d t o be " c h a r a c t e r i s t i c t o 73 a l l d e c o r a t i v e a r t s d e r i v i n g from a r c h i t e c t u r e . " D a r c e l (who was d i r e c t o r o f t h e G o b e l i n s between 1871 - 1885) a l s o r e q u i r e d " f i r m n e s s i n d r a w i n g , " and C a l m e f t e s (a v e r y thorough h i s t o r i a n - 35 - o f t h e a r t o f t a p e s t r y i n t h e 19th c.) would say a few y e a r s l a t e r t h a t t h e most i m p o r t a n t r u l e i n t a p e s t r y was the r e n - 74 d e r i n g o f t h e p u r i t y o f form, e x p r e s s e d by f i r m c o n t o u r s . Edouard D i d r o n (who f o r a c o u p l e o f y e a r s r a n the A n n a l e s - a r c h e o l o g i q u e s , d e s c r i b e d as "the most e f f e c t i v e mouthpiece" f o r t h e G o t h i c R e v i v a l i n France)., a l s o l i s t e d t h i s r e q u i r e m e n t 75 among the p r i n c i p l e s he f o r m u l a t e d f o r t a p e s t r y . S i n c e h i s f o r m u l a t i o n (which he extended a l s o t o mosaics) summarizes q u i t e w e l l t h e p r e v a i l i n g t h e o r i e s c o n c e r n i n g t a p e s t r i e s i n the l a t e 1870s, I w i l l reproduce i t i n a s l i g h t l y s h o r t e n e d v e r s i o n : 1) A c o m p o s i t i o n t h a t l e a v e s v e r y few s p a c e s . 2) S i m p l i c i t y o f e x e c u t i o n , i n w h i c h t h e t r a i t i s predominant and t h e s i l h o u e t t e s are a c c e n t u a t e d . 3) "A sober m o d e l l i n g o f a t r u e d e c o r a t i v e c h a r a c t e r . " 4) An a l m o s t complete l a c k o f p e r s p e c t i v e . I t s h o u l d be c l e a r by how t h a t " t a p e s t r y f l a t n e s s " was not u n d e r s t o o d t o be t h e same as " w a l l p a p e r f l a t n e s s " (or as " s t a i n e d g l a s s window f l a t n e s s " ) by t h o s e who were i n t h e f o r e - f r o n t of t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s r e v i v a l i n F r a n c e . The t a p e s t r y - d e c o r a t i o n v e r s u s t a p e s t r y - t a b l e a u c o n f l i c t had a p a r a l l e l i n the d i s t i n c t i o n between " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " ( i n t h e sense o f monumental p a i n t i n g o r d e c o r a t i o n ) and t a b l e a u . I n t h e f i r s t h a l f o f the 19th c e n t u r y p a i n t i n g had emancipated i t s e l f from a r c h i t e c t u r e t o such degree, t h a t m u r a l d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g s became n o t h i n g e l s e b u t l a r g e s c a l e t a b l e a u x . The o n l y d i f f e r e n c e r e s i d e d i n the f a c t t h a t b e i n g i n t e n d e d f o r a s p e c i f i c d e s t i n a t i o n , t h e u s u a l shape o f a t a b l e a u was m o d i f i e d (and even t h i s was not always n e c e s s a r y ) . But d e f i n i n g d e c o r a - t i o n o n l y as a work w i t h a s p e c i f i c d e s t i n a t i o n was not good enough for. t h e r e f o r m e r s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . V i o l l e t - l e - D u c was u n e q u i v o c a l on t h i s s u b j e c t : De ce que on p e i n t s u r un mur au l i e u de p e i n d r e s u r une t o i l e , 11 ne s ' e n s u i t pas que 1'oeuvre s o i t une p e i n t u r e monumentale, e t presque t o u t e s l e s p e i n t u r e s murales p r o d u i t e s de n o t r e temps, ne s o n t t o u j o u r s , malgre l a d i f f e r e n c e du p r o c e d e , que des t a b l e a u x ; 7 6 D e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g , i n o r d e r t o be a " t r u e " d e c o r a t i o n ( l i k e any o t h e r d e c o r a t i v e a r t ) had t o f u l f i l l t h e " t r u e " p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n . Of c o u r s e , t h e r e were s p e c i f i c r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r p a i n t i n g as d e c o r a t i o n , j u s t as t h e r e were s p e c i f i c r e - q u i r e m e n t s for. d i f f e r e n t i a t i n g t h e v a r i o u s d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . The g e n e r a l consensus among r e f o r m e r s was t h a t p a i n t i n g as d e c o r a t i o n s h o u l d be s u b o r d i n a t e d t o a r c h i t e c t u r e . S i n c e most d e c o r a t i o n s were i n t e n d e d f o r f l a t w a l l s , f l a t n e s s was t h e most common r e q u i r e m e n t . But how f l a t ? " F l a t n e s s " i n d e c o r a t i o n was o r i g i n a l l y a d v o c a t e d and i n t r o d u c e d d u r i n g t h e G o t h i c R e v i v a l and t h e N e o - C a t h o l i c movements, as a r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t 77 what was c o n s i d e r e d t o be "paganism" and "decadence." S i n c e t h i s f l a t n e s s (which was a b s o l u t e ) , and s i m p l i f i e d d e s i g n , were a l s o v e r y c o n v e n i e n t f o r m e c h a n i c a l r e p r o d u c t i o n , i t became w i d e l y a c c e p t e d e s p e c i a l l y i n t h e f i e l d o f i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n , and t h e i n i t i a l i d e o l o g i c a l m o t i v a t i o n f o r g o t t e n . I n t h e 1880s 7 " f l a t n e s s " i n d e c o r a t i o n was r e q u i r e d as a "common sense law." Of. c o u r s e , i n t h e f i e l d o f d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g t h e r e was no q u e s t i o n o f f a c i l i t a t i n g the p r o c e s s o f r e p r o d u c t i o n , and t h e "common s e n s e " . d i d not d i c t a t e a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s . T h i s i s why i n t h i s a r e a t h e d i f f e r e n c e o f o p i n i o n s between t h e G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t s and t h o s e whom I e a r l i e r . c a l l e d u p h o l d e r s o f t h e 79 "Western t r a d i t i o n " i s most o b v i o u s . - 37 - I n t h e f i r s t c a t e g o r y b e l o n g s o f c o u r s e V i o l l e t - l e - D u c ( G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t ) , who d i e d i n 1879. I w i l l a l s o i n c l u d e here Henry Havard, c o n s i d e r e d an a u t h o r i t y i n d e c o r a t i o n i n the 1880s and 1890s, who, l i k e V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , b e l i e v e d i n t h e "decadence" brought about i n monumental a r t by the e m a n c i p a t i o n 8 0 o f p a i n t i n g s i n c e the R e n a i s s a n c e . A c c o r d i n g t o V i o l l e t - l e - Duc a monumental p a i n t i n g s h o u l d always p r e s e r v e "the a s p e c t o f a d e c o r a t e d p l a n e s u r f a c e " ("1'aspect d'une s u r f a c e p l a n e 81 d e c o r e e " ) . T h i s was t r u e not o n l y f o r o r n a m e n t a l p a i n t i n g p r o p e r , t h a t i s , t h e p a i n t i n g o f o r n a m e n t a l m o t i f s t h a t do n o t i n v o l v e t h e human f i g u r e and a s u b j e c t , b u t a l s o f o r monumental p a i n t i n g o f v a r i o u s s c e n e s . V i o l l e t - l e - D u c d e c l a r e d : "Les p e u p l e s a r t i s t e s n'ont vu dans l a p e i n t u r e monumentale q u 1 on ». 8 2 d e s s i n enlumine e t t r e s - l e g e r e m e n t modele." He p r e f e r r e d t o see t h e m o d e l l i n g reduced o n l y t o t h e l i n e a r m o d e l l i n g a c h i e v e d by "more o r l e s s a c c e n t u a t e d t r a i t s , " and c o l o u r as n o t h i n g more than an " i l l u m i n a t i o n . " He c o n s i d e r e d t h a t the apogee o f m e d i e v a l a r c h i t e c t u r a l p a i n t i n g was a t t a i n e d i n t h e 12th c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e , when t h e i n f l u e n c e of the h i e r a t i c B y z a n t i n e 8 3 s t y l e was v e r y pronounced. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , as has o n l y l a t e l y been acknowledged, d i d n o t advocate a l i t e r a l " i m i t a t i o n " o f t h e G o t h i c s t y l e , b u t o n l y t h e b o r r o w i n g o f c e r t a i n g e n e r a l p r i n c i p l e s . Henry Havard, who was u s u a l l y , i n agreement w i t h V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , campaigned more o p e n l y f o r a modern s t y l e t o f i t the needs o f the modern way o f l i f e . L i k e V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , Eavard would have p r e f e r r e d a ban on m o d e l l i n g (which g i v e s t h e i m p r e s s i o n o f r e l i e f ) as w e l l as on t h e i l l u s i o n o f deep s p a t i a l r e c e s s i o n . H i s o p i n i o n - 38 - was t h a t i n a d e c o r a t i o n , not o n l y " i t i s awkward t o s i m u l a t e h o l e s and grooves where t h e demands o f the c o n s t r u c t i o n f o r b i d them," but i t i s j u s t as i n c o r r e c t " t o s i m u l a t e r e l i e f s i n a 84 p l a c e where the w a l l s h o u l d remain f i a t . " But even he, who o f c o u r s e banned any " i d e a o f r e l i e f " i n pavements and c a r p e t s , t o l e r a t e d i t e v e n t u a l l y i n m u r a l d e c o r a t i o n , because a t l e a s t , he s a i d , one can keep a d i s t a n c e from a w a l l , w h i l e w a l k i n g o v e r s i m u l a t e d r e l i e f s i s v e r y u n p l e a s a n t . H a v a r d 1 s d e s i r e f o r a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s i n d e c o r a t i o n , even when he does not r e f e r t o p a i n t i n g , i s not r e l a t e d t o t h e problems o f m a s s - p r o d u c t i o n , w h i c h he a c t u a l l y d e p l o r e d . He was a g a i n s t t h e " d e m o c r a t i z a t i o n o f l u x u r y , " and as I mentioned b e f o r e , he f a v o r e d t h e e l i t i s t d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . Havard s h a r e d V i o l l e t - l e - D u c 1 s i n c l i n a t i o n toward a u s t e r i t y (he was a l s o a g a i n s t b r i g h t , pure c o l o u r s i n d e c o r a t i o n ) and h i s p o s i t i o n a g a i n s t p a i n t i n g b e i n g o v e r l y a s s e r t i v e i n d e c o r a t i o n . There were o t h e r s , though, who a c c e p t e d as a "common sense" r u l e t h a t i n d e c o r a t i o n p a i n t i n g had t o be s u b o r d i n a t e d t o a r c h i t e c t u r e , b u t d i d not want t o renounce t h e "Western" h e r i t a g e (which f a v o r e d m o d e l l i n g i n t h e round) c o m p l e t e l y . As Alphonse Germain (La Plume, 1891) put i t , "A t r u l y sane O c c i - 8 5 d e n t a l eye w i l l always f e e l t h e n e c e s s i t y o f g r a d a t i o n s . " (Germain, a r e a c t i o n a r y c r i t i c , s u p p o r t e r o f P e l a d a n , c r i - t i c i s e d the f l a t n e s s of S y m b o l i s t p a i n t i n g which d i d not r e s p e c t t h e "form" i n the name o f t h e s l o g a n " a r t i s not r e a l i t y > " and w h i c h would t h u s reduce t o a. " m a g n i f i c e n t a b e r r a t i o n " a l l t h e m a t e r p i e c e s produced s i n c e the R e n a i s s a n c e . ) The c r i t i c con- s i d e r e d t h a t t h e i m i t a t i o n o f t h e i m p e r f e c t i o n s o f " b a r b a r i a n s " - 3 9 - (among whom he seems t o i n c l u d e t h e B y z a n t i n e s ) would o n l y l e a d t o an " i n f e r i o r d e c o r a t i v e a r t , because i t was w i t h o u t r a p p o r t w i t h our r a c e and our m o d e r n i t y . " But i t i s s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t he a c c e p t e d " a r c h a i s m s " i n book d e c o r a t i o n s f o r example (such as D e n i s 1 i l l u s t r a t i o n s f o r Sagesse by V e r l a i n e ) . T h i s was so because a t t h e t i m e , i n p a i n t i n g (which had a s p e c i a l s t a t u s s i n c e R e n a i s s a n c e ) , f l a t n e s s was s t i l l a s s o c i a t e d w i t h an I d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h y , w i t h r e p r e s e n t i n g the "dream" and t h e 1'au-dela. I mentioned b e f o r e t h a t an extreme case o f "Western t r a - d i t i o n a l i s m " can be found i n C h a r l e s B l a n c . He d i d p r e f e r " g r a d a t i o n s " (to f l a t t i n t s ) i n d e c o r a t i o n s i n g e n e r a l , b u t h i s "extremism" i s m a n i f e s t e d w i t h r e s p e c t t o p a i n t e d d e c o r a t i o n . I n f a c t he d i d not i n c l u d e p a i n t e d d e c o r a t i o n (except f o r p a i n t i n g on g l a s s . a n d m i n i a t u r e p a i n t i n g - such as were the e n l u m i n u r e s o f t h e 14th c e n t u r y - , w h i c h b e l o n g e d a c c o r d i n g t o him " r a t h e r t o o r n a m e n t a t i o n t h a n t o t h e a r t o f t h e p a i n t e r " ) • 8 6 among t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , as d i d Havard and V i o l l e t - l e - D u c . B l a n c d i d a c c e p t . f o r p a i n t e d d e c o r a t i o n t h e b a s i c r u l e o f "not s i m u l a t i n g h o l e s where the a r c h i t e c t wanted t o have s o l i d s t r u c t u r e s , " i . e . t h e r e s p e c t f o r t h e c h a r a c t e r o f the d e c o r a t e d 8 7 s u r f a c e . But the c o n c e s s i o n s t h a t p a i n t i n g s h o u l d make t o t h e f l a t n e s s o f t h e w a l l r e f e r r e d t o the g e n e r a l e f f e c t , and not t o the m o d e l l i n g o f t h e i n d i v i d u a l o b j e c t s and f i g u r e s i n t h e p a i n t i n g , w i t h t h e e x c e p t i o n t h a t the m o d e l l i n g had t o be done i n c o l o u r . To: u n d e r s t a n d b e t t e r what were the d i f f e r e n c e s between a d e c o r a t i o n and a t a b l e a u i n B l a n c ' s v i e w (as w e l l as a c c o r d i n g t o o t h e r s ) , I w i l l c o n c e n t r a t e f i r s t on t h e d e f i n i t i o n o f the t a b l e a u . V i o l l e t - l e - D u c answered t h e q u e s t i o n "What i s - 40 - a t a b l e a u ? " w i t h the f o l l o w i n g d e f i n i t i o n : C'est une scene qu'on f a i t v o i r au s p e c t a t e u r a t r a v e r s un c a d r e , une f e n e t r e o u v e r t e . U n i t e de p o i n t de vue, u n i t e de d i r e c t i o n de l a l u m i e r e , u n i t e d 1 e f f e c t . 8 8 S i m i l a r l y , C h a r l e s B l a n c wrote i n h i s Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n (1867): M a i n t e n a n t , q u ' e s t - c e qu'un t a b l e a u dans l a p e i n t u r e proprement d i t e ? C'est l a r e p r e - s e n t a t i o n d'une scene dont 1'ensemble peut e t r e embrasse d'un coup d ' o e i l . 8 9 T h i s u n i t o f e f f e c t ( i n o t h e r words the u n i t y p e r c e i v e d i n the p a i n t i n g a t one g l a n c e ) was a c h i e v e d f i r s t o f a l l i n a t a b l e a u (understood s i n c e A l b e r t i as a "window") by the observance o f t h e . r u l e s o f l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e , w h i c h r e q u i r e d a u n i t y o f v i e w p o i n t . A n o t h e r f a c t o r t h a t a l l o w e d t h e scene r e p r e s e n t e d i n a t a b l e a u t o be p e r c e i v e d a t one g l a n c e was the d i s t r i b u t i o n o f l i g h t , w h i c h had t o a c h i e v e what B l a n c c a l l e d "the u n i t y o f c h i a r o s c u r o . " C h i a r o s c u r o was used not o n l y f o r the m o d e l l i n g o f i n d i v i d u a l , f o r m s i n a t a b l e a u , but a l s o t o "model the t a b l e a u , " c o n s i d e r e d as a s i n g l e e n t i t y . The u n i t y o f c h i a r o s c u r o r e f e r s t o t h e l a t t e r , and i t means t h a t i n a t a b l e a u t h e r e i s one p r i n c i p a l l i g h t and one dominant dark a r e a . T h i s u n i t y o f 90 c h i a r o s c u r o i n d u c e d an u n i t y or " e f f e c t . " A d e c o r a t i o n was n o t supposed t o s i m i l a t e "windows" i n t h e w a l l , t h r o u g h w h i c h one c o u l d e x p e r i e n c e t h e i l l u s i o n o f d e p t h . I n o r d e r t o a v o i d t h i s , l i b e r t i e s t a k e n w i t h the r u l e s 91 o f l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e were a b s o l u t e l y n e c e s s a r y . S i n c e t h e c h i a r o s c u r o e f f e c t a l s o " p i e r c e d " t h e . w a l l , B l a n c recommended i t s r e p l a c e m e n t w i t h a polychrome e f f e c t , t h e u n i t y o f w h i c h i s a c h i e v e d by an even, l i g h t t o n a l i t y . B l a n c a l s o a s s o c i a t e d t h i s k i n d o f e f f e c t , c o n s i s t i n g o f a " d i f f u s e d and generous l i g h t " o b t a i n e d by such c o l o r i s t s as Veronese and Rubens, w i t h 92 t h e p a i n t i n g of. scenes t h a t t a k e . p l a c e i n p l a i n a i r . U n i t y i n c o l o r i n g was i n f a c t t h e o n l y way o f a c h i e v i n g t h e " u n i t y o f e f f e c t " i n d e c o r a t i o n , and t h i s u n i t y was s t i l l a r e q u i r e m e n t i n d e c o r a t i o n a l s o , o n l y a c h i e v e d by d i f f e r e n t means t h a n i n a t a b l e a u . Other w r i t e r s were s a t i s f i e d w i t h a more summary m o d e l l i n g o f i n d i v i d u a l forms t h a n B l a n c was, and i n f a c t such a v i e w w i l l be t h e predominant one i n the 1880s and 1890s, w i t h r e s p e c t t o p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n . I w i l l g i v e as examples o f such w r i t e r s , D a r c e l and Champier. A l f r e d D a r e e l (1818-1893) had been a s s o c i a t e d a t f i r s t w i t h the G o t h i c R e v i v a l , and he was con- s i d e r e d an a u t h o r i t y on the a r c h e o l o g y o f the F r e n c h M i d d l e 93 Ages, as w e l l a s . o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e . He was an o f f i c i a l i n t h e a d m i n i s t r a t i o n o f t h e B e a u x - A r t s , d i r e c t o r o f the G o b e l i n s , as I a l r e a d y mentioned, as w e l l as o f the Musee de C l u n y , and he was a member o f the A d m i n i s t r a t i v e C o u n c i l o f t h e Union C e n t r a l e des A r t s D e c o r a t i f s . He campaigned f o r t h e i n t r o - d u c t i o n o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n t o t h e S a l o n as e a r l y as 1882, when t h e Union C e n t r a l e h e l d i t s own S a l o n o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . On t h i s o c c a s i o n he wrote "Le S a l o n des A r t s D e c o r a t i f s , " an a r t i c l e i n w h i c h he s t a t e d t h a t a " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " ( i n t h e sense o f d e c o r a t i o n ) s h o u l d s a t i s f y the f o l l o w i n g c o n d i t i o n s : Dans l a c o m p o s i t i o n une c e r t a i n e e u r y t h m i e ; dans l e d e s s i n une c e r t a i n e a b r e v i a t i o n , q u i e s t une des c o n d i t i o n s du s t y l e a t q u i n ' e x c l u t p o i n t l a g r a c e elle-meme; dans l a c o u l e u r une c e r t a i n e u n i t € q u i r e s u l t e souvent de l a d e c o l o r a t i o n des l u m i a r e s e t une tenue q u i p r o v i e n t de ce que chaque chose e s t simplement modelee par l e s d i f f e r e n t s t o n s d'une - 42 - I w i l l come back l a t e r t o D a r c e l ' s r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n ; f o r the moment I would l i k e t o p o i n t out t h a t D a r c e l h e l d t h e o p i n i o n t h a t i n such a p a i n t i n g e v e r y t h i n g s h o u l d be a t l e a s t summarily m o d e l l e d . He c o n t r a s t e d t h i s m o d e l l i n g w i t h t h e e v e n l y a p p l i e d c o l o u r ( l e s a - p l a t ) o f Japonisme, o f w h i c h he d i d not approve. L i k e B l a n c , D a r c e l d i d n o t want a m o d e l l i n g o f t h e p a i n t i n g as a whole ( c h i a r o s c u r o e f f e c t ) , b u t a u n i t y i n c o l o u r i n g ("which o f t e n i s t h e r e s u l t o f t h e d i s c o l o r a t i o n s o f l i g h t " ) , most i m p o r t a n t l y i n v a l u e . Thus t h e a s p e c t o f a p a i n t e d d e c o r a t i o n was not t o be as f l a t as a Japanese p r i n t , o r as a m a n u s c r i p t i l l u m i n a t i o n , b u t more l i k e an e v e n l y l i t b a s - r e l i e f . The i l l u s i o n o f a h i g h r e l i e f was t o be e x p e c t e d o n l y i n a t a b l e a u . D a r c e l touched upon another d i s t i n c t i o n t h a t was t o be made between a d e c o r a t i o n and a t a b l e a u , r e l a t e d t o the problem o f " f i n i s h . " D e c o r a t i o n d i d n o t , r e q u i r e t h e same amount o f 95 " f i n i s h " as a t a b l e a u . B u t , on t h e o t h e r hand D a r c e l p o i n t e d o u t , the l a c k o f f i n i s h a l o n e , an ebauche, does not make a d e c o r a t i o n > no\more than t h e shape o f the p a i n t i n g does: P a r c e qu'en un panneau une des deux d i m e n s i o n s domine, ou p a r c e que l e p e i n t r e s ' e s t c o n t e n t e de b r o s s e r une ebauche, i l ne f a u d r a i t pas supposer que l a forme du c a d r e , pas p l u s que 1'inacheve, s ' u f f i s e n t . a donner l e c a r a c t e r e de d e c o r a t i o n a une p e i n t u r e ; ^ 0 " Of c o u r s e , what gave a p a i n t i n g t h e c h a r a c t e r o f a d e c o r a t i o n , as s h o u l d be c l e a r by now, was a s e t of r u l e s , a l l a i m i n g t o p r e s e r v e more o r l e s s t h e t w o - d i m e n s i o n a l i t y o f the s u r f a c e decorated..... These r u l e s were g a t h e r e d , t o g e t h e r , i n an even more o r g a n i z e d f a s h i o n than i n D a r c e l ' s a r t i c l e , by V i c t o r - 43 - Champier, t h e d i r e c t o r o f the Revue des A r t s D e c o r a t i f s , and 97 a l s o an o f f i c i a l i n the a d m i n i s t r a t i o n o f t h e B e a u x - A r t s . I n t h e second p a r t o f h i s "M.P.-V. G a l l a n d e t 1'enseignement de l ' a r t d e c o r a t i f , " (1888) Champier f o r m u l a t e d "the p r i n c i p l e s o f t r u e d e c o r a t i o n " f o r " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " - a n e c e s s a r y t a s k , because as he put i t , " i n s p i t e o f common sense, r e a s o n and good t a s t e , " t h e s e p r i n c i p l e s were v i o l a t e d i n p r a c t i c e . The most b a s i c r e q u i r e m e n t was o f c o u r s e , "not t o s i m u l a t e o p e n i n g s " i n t h e s o l i d i t y o f t h e c o n s t r u c t i o n , because t h i s would " t r o u b l e " our eye, i n d u c i n g i t t o "doubt" t h i s s o l i d i t y . I n o t h e r words, a degree o f f l a t n e s s was a b s o l u t e l y n e c e s s a r y . Then he added the f o l l o w i n g " l a w s " : La f r a n c h i s e dans l a c o l o r a t i o n s , une f a c t u r e s i m p l e e t l a r g e , presque j a m a i s de t o n s n e u t r e s , des masses b i e n e q u i l i b r e e s , pas de t r o m p e - 1 1 o e i l s e r r a n t de p r e s l a n a t u r e , n i de modele p r e c i e u x e t d e l i c a t comme dans l e s t a b l e a u x , v o i l a q u e l l e s s o n t , pour c e t t e forme d ' a r t , l e s l o i s c o n s a c r e e s p a r 1 ' e x p e r i e n c e e t l e bon sens. Champier t r i e d t o be above i d e o l o g i e s and p r e s e n t e d t h e s e "laws" as d e r i v i n g s i m p l y from "common sense." He c o n s i d e r e d them as " t r u t h s , " " p r o c l a i m e d by a l l a e s t h e t i c i a n s , " and which c o u l d be 99 found i n h i s day " i n most books." He gave V i o l l e t - l e - D u c a s p e c i a l m e n t i o n , but he combined i n f a c t t h e a r c h i t e c t ' s p o i n t o f v i e w w i t h B l a n c ' s , and p r a i s e d m e d i e v a l a r t as w e l l as t h e d e c o r a t i o n s o f Raphael and M i c h e l a n g e l o i n the V a t i c a n . H i s a n t i p a t h y f o r t h e Academy was o b v i o u s , though, i n h i s remarks about n o t w a n t i n g t o sound "dogmatic" a n d . e s t a b l i s h a "program" l i k e t h e "grammarians o f a r t " (most l i k e l y an a l l u s i o n t o B l a n c ' s two "grammars"). Champier wanted o n l y t o make i t c l e a r t h a t " D e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g and e a s e l p a i n t i n g are two t o t a l l y d i s t i n c t g e n r e s , w i t h s e p a r a t e laws and a d i f f e r e n t t e c h n i q u e . " " L U ± T h i s i s i n f a c t t h e most i m p o r t a n t c o n c l u s i o n t o be r e t a i n e d so f a r . As I w i l l i n d i c a t e i n t h e second p a r t o f t h i s , c h a p t e r , t h e most avant-garde t r e n d s i n t h e p a i n t i n g o f t h e 1890s would make use o f t h e s e "laws" o f d e c o r a t i o n , but a t the same time t h e y would a b o l i s h the double s t a n d a r d s w h i c h the " o f f i c i a l " a e s t h e t i c i a n s o f t h e second p a r t o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y m a i n t a i n e d f o r d e c o r a - t i o n and t a b l e a u . By a p p l y i n g t h e "laws o f d e c o r a t i o n " even t o t h e e a s e l p a i n t i n g , t h e y w i l l i n f a c t a b o l i s h t h e t a b l e a u . B e f o r e d i s c u s s i n g t h e s e new " d e c o r a t i v e " t e n d e n c i e s i n t h e p a i n t i n g o f . t h e 1890s, i t i s n e c e s s a r y , because o f a c o n f u s i n g t e r m i n o l o g y , t o d e f i n e D e c o r a t i v e as opposed t o D e c o r a t i o n . By t h e 1880s (and a l r e a d y q u i t e o f t e n i n t h e 1870s) t h e term " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " became i n t e r c h a n g e a b l e w i t h " p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n " (as i s e v i d e n t i n Champier's a r t i c l e f o r example). Thus " d e c o r a t i v e " became a s s o c i a t e d w i t h " d e c o r a t i o n , " t h a t i s , w i t h d e s i g n i n g a work o f a r t produced f o r a s p e c i f i c des- t i n a t i o n , w h i c h i m p l i e d o b e y i n g s p e c i f i c r u l e s . G e n e r a l l y s p e a k i n g (not o n l y w i t h r e s p e c t t o p a i n t i n g ) any d e c o r a t i o n was t h e p r o d u c t o f t h e " d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , " a s t a n d a r d d e f i n i t i o n o f which was g i v e n i n H a v a r d 1 s book La D e c o r a t i o n : B i e n que t o u s l e s a r t s p l a s t i q u e s c o n c o u r e n t dans une mesure p l u s ou moins l a r g e a l a d e c o r a t i o n , on donne p l u s s p e c i a l e m e n t l e nom d ' a r t s d e c o r a t i f s a ceux q u i o n t pour b u t , non pas l a c r e a t i o n d'une oeuvre d ' a r t i n d e p e n d a n t e , mais 1 1 o r n e m e n t a t i o n d'un ensemble de c o n s t r u c t i o n , d'une p i e c e , d'une s u r f a c e ou d'un o b j e t p r e a l a b l e m e n t e x i s t a n t . 1 ^ 2 R e t u r n i n g j u s t t o p a i n t i n g (because t h i s i s o f immediate i n t e r e s t ) , s i n c e t h e s u r f a c e f o r w h i c h i t was i n t e n d e d was u s u a l l y a f l a t w a l l , f l a t n e s s (a f o r m a l element) was t h e most - 45 - i m p o r t a n t c h a r a c t e r i s t i c w h i c h d e f i n e d p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n . I t was a~ consequence o f i t s dependence on a r c h i t e c t u r e . Thus d e c o r a t i o n means f i r s t o f a l l s u b o r d i n a t i o n t o a r c h i t e c t u r e . A t a b l e a u , w h i c h i s "independent" of a r c h i t e c t u r e , i s n o t a d e c o r a t i o n . Yet the term " d e c o r a t i v e " was a l s o used t o q u a l i f y some t a b l e a u x . D u r i n g the 1860s and.1870s t h e g e n e r a l consensus was t h a t " d e c o r a t i v e " a r t was an a r t a p p e a l i n g o n l y t o the s e n s e s , i . e . p u r e l y " e x t e r n a l . " D u r i n g t h e 1880s and e a r l y 1890s i t was s a i d t h a t i t p l e a s e d t h e eye, b u t t h a t i t was a l s o r e s t f u l f o r t h e mind, o r p l e a s e d t h e " s p i r i t " , a s w e l l . I n any e v e n t , used i n t h i s sense, t h e a d j e c t i v e " d e c o r a t i v e " d i d not r e f e r t o t h e f a c t t h a t a p a r t i c u l a r work d e c o r a t e d a p a r t i c u l a r s u r f a c e (even though i t c o u l d be a p p l i e d t o a d e c o r a t i o n as w e l l as t o a t a b l e a u ) b u t t o t h e enjoyment b r o u g h t t o the v i e w e r , t o t h e p a r t i c u l a r e f f e c t i t had o n h i m . T h i s e f f e c t was such as not t o i n v o l v e him e m o t i o n a l l y , b u t r a t h e r a e s t h e t i c a l l y . Chesneau f o r example gave t h e d e f i n i t i o n o f " d e c o r a t i v e " a r t (I w i l l use t h e n o t a t i o n " d e c o r a t i v e " a r t and " d e c o r a t i v e a r t " t o d i s t i n g u i s h between t h e two meanings o f " d e c o r a t i v e " ! ) as i t was commonly u n d e r s t o o d i n the 1960s and 1970s: " I c a l l work of d e c o r a t i v e a r t any work made s o l e l y f o r the p l e a s u r e o f the e y e s , w i t h o u t any thought o f emotion." He a l s o s a i d t h a t i n t h e f i e l d o f " p l a s t i c a r t s , " " d e c o r a t i v e " 104 a r t i s t h e same as " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake", ( l ' a r t pour l ' a r t ) . Thus d e c o r a t i v e was synonymous w i t h a r t f o r a r t ' s sake, because i t emphasized not a s u b j e c t m a t t e r t h a t would i n d u c e i n t h e v i e w e r p o w e r f u l e m o t i o n s , but f o r m a l , and t e c h n i c a l a s p e c t s , t h e m e t i e r . There were " d e c o r a t i v e " t a b l e a u x (which d i d not have t o - 46 - renounce a e r i a l p e r s p e c t i v e f o r example, s i n c e i t d i d not m a t t e r i f t h e y gave t h e i l l u s i o n o f d e p t h ) , as t h e r e were " d e c o r a t i v e " d e c o r a t i o n s . E v e n t u a l l y , as I a l r e a d y i n d i c a t e d , i n t h e " d e c o r a t i v e a r t s " t h e ' • u t i l i t a r i a n " : a s p e c t was pushed a s i d e , c o n s i d e r e d secondary, and t h e i r " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" c h a r a c t e r ( a r t w i t h o u t m o r a l ends) emphasized. D u r i n g t h e 1860s and most o f the 1870s, t h e term " d e c o r a - t i v e " p a i n t i n g had a p e j o r a t i v e c o n n o t a t i o n , because i t was d e f i n e d a c c o r d i n g t o academic t r a d i t i o n , i n o p p o s i t i o n t o " e x p r e s s i v e " p a i n t i n g , t h e p a i n t i n g o f " S t y l e , " c a p a b l e o f e x p r e s s i n g "noble emotions" ( r e l i g i o u s i n n a t u r e , o r h e r o i c , e t c . ) , i n o t h e r words c o n t r a s t i n g w i t h "grand" a r t . The Academy ( l e a n i n g . h e a v i l y toward C l a s s i c i s m ) , c o n s i d e r e d t h e r e t o be a s u p e r i o r a r t , one w h i c h a p p e a l s t o t h e i n t e l l e c t (which c o u l d i n c l u d e a l s o m u r a l s ) , and an i n f e r i o r one, w h i c h a p p e a l s t o t h e s e n s e s , i t i s d e c o r a t i v e (which c o u l d . i n c l u d e " d e c o r a t i v e " t a b l e a u x ) . Such c l a s s i f i c a t i o n p e r p e t u a t e d the o l d P o u s s i n i s t / R u b e n i s t , C l a s s i c a l / R o m a n t i c , d r a w i n g o r l i n e ( r e l a t e d t o " S t y l e " ) / c o l o u r s q u a b b l e s . The " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g t h u s d e f i n e d had a " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " c o n n o t a t i o n , because i t was suppose t o p l e a s e o n l y t h e senses (not t h e " s p i r i t " o r t o i n - v o l v e t h e i n t e l l e c t ) and t o emphasize the " m a t e r i a l " s i d e o f p a i n t i n g . Thus, i n " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g t h e form i s r e n d e r e d by i n t e r i o r m o d e l l i n g (as opposed t o c o n t o u r , w h i c h d i s p l a y e d "the i n t e l l i g e n t arabesque o f t h e l i n e , " i n t h e p a i n t i n g o f " S t y l e " ) and by "the movement o f l a p a t e . " The p a i n t e r s who produced t h i s k i n d o f p a i n t i n g were m o s t l y " c o l o r i s t s " and p a i n t e r s o f "temperament" (as opposed t o p a i n t e r s o f i n t e l l e c t - 47 - 10 b o r e s p r i t ) . The p e r s o n a l " t o u c h " ( l a t o u c h e ) , o f t e n i n heavy i m p a s t o , was i m p o r t a n t i n t h i s " d e c o r a t i v e " or. " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" p a i n t i n g . A N a t u r a l i s t . - ; p a i n t i n g such as an Im- p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g o f t h e 1870s f i t s v e r y w e l l i n t o t h i s c a t e g o r y o f " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g . C h a r l e s B l a n c i n f a c t up- d a t e d t h e s e t o f c o n t r a r i e s p e r p e t u a t e d by the Academy, mentioned above, by r e d u c i n g them t o t h e dichotomy o f S t y l e .T , , .. 106 v e r u s N a t u r a l i s m . As I i n d i c a t e d , i n t h e l a t e 1870s and e s p e c i a l l y i n t h e 1880s, t h e term " d e c o r a t i v e " was used more and more t o d e s i g - n a t e a " d e c o r a t i o n " (thus t h e e x p r e s s i o n " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " meant p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n ) . T h i s was done i n t h e w r i t i n g s o f t h o s e who wanted t o r a i s e t h e s t a t u s o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s ; t h e y l o o s e l y used t h e e x p r e s s i o n " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " t o i n - d i c a t e any m u r a l , p a s t o r p r e s e n t (be i t " d e c o r a t i v e " i n t h e t r a d i t i o n a l sense or n o t ) , because t h e y wanted t o be a b l e t o say t h a t " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " was p r a c t i c e d by such g i a n t s as M i c h e l a n g e l o o r R a p h a e l . T h i s t e r m i n o l o g y brought p r o t e s t s from C h a r l e s B l a n c f o r example, who c o n s i d e r e d d e p l o r a b l e t h e d e s c r i p t i o n o f t h e m u r a l s o f Mantegna, M i c h e l a n g e l o o r Raphael ( a l l p a i n t i n g s o f S t y l e and i n d u c i n g p o w e r f u l emotions i n t h e 107 v i e w e r ) as " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g . " Of c o u r s e , one can h a r d l y d e s c r i b e The L a s t Judgement o f M i c h e l a n g e l o as " d e c o r a t i v e , " w h i c h i n t h e t r a d i t i o n a l sense meant s i m p l y p l e a s i n g t h e eye. I n f a c t such a d e c o r a t i o n d i d not even f i t t h e c a t e g o r y "de- c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " as d e f i n e d by a l l r e f o r m e r s , because t h e y f o r b a d e i n d e c o r a t i o n s scenes e x p r e s s i n g s t r o n g emotions. To resume, now ( i n t h e 1880s) " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " meant - 4 8 " - " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g w h i c h was a l s o " d e c o r a t i o n " ( t h a t i s f i r s t o f a i l , q u i t e " f l a t " ) . . But t h e meaning o f t h e term " d e c o r a t i v e " ( t h a t meaning w h i c h r e l a t e s t o t h e e f f e c t t h e work has on t h e v i e w e r ) was changed. A " d e c o r a t i v e " work o f a r t was n o t a d d r e s s e d now o n l y t o t h e s e n s e s , b u t a l s o t o t h e mind, even t o t h e " s o u l . " Thus t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " was n o t t o be de- f i n e d o n l y i n a m a t e r i a l i s t i c framework, w i t h t h e r e s u l t t h a t a N a t u r a l i s t p a i n t i n g was n o t " d e c o r a t i v e " by t h e new s t a n d a r d s . A l s o , t h e term " d e c o r a t i v e " d i d n o t have a p e j o r a t i v e con- n o t a t i o n anymore. I w i l l d i s c u s s b r i e f l y t h e l a s t two p o i n t s . " D e c o r a t i o n " and t h e " d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , " were d e f i n e d by t h e o r i g i n a l r e f o r m e r s i n an i d e a l i s t i c framework, b o t h w i t h r e s p e c t t o form and c o n t e n t . F o r m a l l y , a r e a l i s t i c , i l l u s i o n - i s t i c r e p r e s e n t a t i o n was f o r b i d d e n . T h i s c o u l d (as l a t e r be- came the norm) be j u s t i f i e d by a "common sense law" o f subor- d i n a t i o n t o a r c h i t e c t u r e , w h i c h r e q u i r e d " f l a t n e s s . " Of c o u r s e , t h i s "law" does not n e c e s s a r i l y i m p l y a s u b j e c t m a t t e r o f i d e a l i s t c o n t e n t , u n l e s s one b e l i e v e s t h e r e s h o u l d be such correspondence between form and c o n t e n t . T h i s i s e x a c t l y what the o r i g i n a l r e f o r m e r s had b e l i e v e d . C h a r l e s B l a n c , f o r example, wanted t o be t r a n s p o r t e d by t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n t o 108 "the enchanted gardens o f t h e i d e a l w o r l d . " He wanted the forms and c o l o u r s used i n t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s t o i n v i t e t h e i m a g i n a t i o n t o "dream," and even when i m i t a t i n g n a t u r e , t o f i g u r e r e a l i t y o n l y as a " s o u v e n i r " ("a l ' e t a t de s o u r v e n i r " ) . E m p h a s i z i n g t h a t he wanted, t o be " t r a n s p o r t e d i n t o t h e empire o f d r e a m s , " h e p r a i s e d t h e O r i e n t a l s , who, " c o u n s e l l e d by p o e t r y , " produced such dream images, f o r w h i c h , - 49 - . . . l e d e s s i n e s t p r i s s u r n a t u r e , t a n d i s que l a c o u l e u r en e s t i m a g i n a i r e , de s o r t e que l a v e r i t e s'.y mele au mensonge , comrae i l a r r i v e souvent dans nos r e v e s . ± 0 ^ T h i s way, .-..le r e g a r d , l o r s meme q u ' i l r e n c o n t r e 1'image des choses r g e l l e s , l e s v o i t r e v e t u e s de c o u l e u r s a r b i t r a i r e s e t purement o r n e m e n t a l e s ou s y m b o l i q u e s . Roger B a l l u (an o f f i c i a l i n t h e B e a u x - A r t s a d m i n i s t r a t i o n ) , made i t v e r y c l e a r i n 1878 t h a t a N a t u r a l i s t p a i n t i n g would have no p l a c e i n d e c o r a t i v e a r t . He d e c l a r e d : . . . l e rendu d'un phenomene p a r t i c u l i e r n ' e s t pas du domaine de 1 ' a r t d e c o r a t i f . P l u s que t o u s l e s a u t r e s a r t s , c e l u i - c i v i t d ' i n v e n t i o n , de f i c t i o n meme, e t dans l e s l o i s q u i l u i s o n t p r o p r e s , l a v§rite n ' o b t i e n t qu'une p l a c e s e c o n d a i r e . m The same o p i n i o n was s h a r e d by D a r c e l , who i n 1882 r e f u s e d t o c l a s s i f y as " d e c o r a t i v e work" t h e p a i n t e d d e c o r a t i o n s of Gervex f o r a c i t y h a i l , m a i n l y because t h e y were p a i n t i n g s o f ' r e a l i t y , " and r e p r e s e n t e d o r d i n a r y p e o p l e i n t h e i r everyday c l o t h e s (even 112 u n l o a d i n g c o a l , o r s l a u g h t e r - h o u s e s c e n e s ) . In h i s book on d e c o r a t i o n (La D e c o r a t i o n , p u b l i s h e d i n t h e e a r l y 1 8 ? 0 s ) , Havard m a i n t a i n e d t h e I d e a l i s t c h a r a c t e r o f d e c o r a t i o n , and d e c l a r e d t h a t t h e " f i c t i o n s " o f d e c o r a t i o n s have t h e r o l e o f " r e n d e r i n g i n a c o n c r e t e f a s h i o n , t h a t i s v i s i b l e , somehow t a n g i b l e , t h e t h o u g h t , t h e i d e a , i n a word t h e a b s t r a c t i o n 113 w h i c h i s t h e o b j e c t o f t h e i r e x p r e s s i o n . " The f o r m a l i s m . o f . " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g , " a p a r t from f l a t - ness (no i l i u s i o n i s m ) , r e q u i r e d a l s o o r d e r e d c o m p o s i t i o n (no e m p i r i c i s m ) , as w e l l : as c l a r i t y o f l i n e a r c o n t o u r s , i n o r d e r t o s y n t h e s i z e t h e " c h a r a c t e r " o f the s u b j e c t , and even t o a c h i e v e " S t y l e " ( t h e r e f o r e not r e n d e r i n g the p a r t i c u l a r , b u t t h e - 50 - 114 g e n e r a l ) . " D e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g , o r " d e c o r a t i v e " t a b l e a u x were a l s o e x p e c t e d t o f u l f i l l t h e s e requirements,, e x c e p t f o r f l a t n e s s . " D e c o r a t i v e " had a p e j o r a t i v e c o n n o t a t i o n o n l y when " c o l o u r " was supposed t o be t h e dominant element i n d e c o r a t i v e 115 a r t , t o t h e d e t r i m e n t o f " l i n e " and " S t y l e . " Most r e f o r m e r s though, emphasized t h e importance o f " l i n e , " even t h e n e c e s s i t y o f f i r m c o n t o u r s f o r d e f i n i t i o n o f form i n d e c o r a t i o n , r e g a r d - 116 l e s s o f t h e i r p o s i t i o n on a s s e r t i v e n e s s o f c o l o u r . These w r i t e r s c o n s i d e r e d l i n e t o be e i t h e r more i m p o r t a n t t h a n c o l o u r i n d e c o r a t i o n , o r a t l e a s t on an e q u a l f o o t i n g . Thus, t h r o u g h 117 t h e element " l i n e , " d e c o r a t i v e a r t i n v o l v e d t h e i n t e l l e c t . In c o n c l u s i o n , i t i s i m p o r t a n t t o r e t a i n t h a t by t h e l a t e 1880s, not o n l y t h e concept o f " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " was w e l l d e f i n e d a c c o r d i n g to. the " t r u e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n , " b u t the meaning o f " d e c o r a t i v e " was i n many r e s p e c t s t h e o p p o s i t e t o t h a t i n use i n t h e 1860s and 1870s. I n o r d e r t o a c h i e v e t h i s new e f f e c t . o n the v i e w e r , an i n t e l l e c t u a l e f f o r t from t h e p a r t o f t h e a r t i s t was n e c e s s a r y . " D e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g ( e i t h e r t a b l e a u o r d e c o r a t i o n ) meant p a i n t i n g t h a t was com- posed, had S t y l e , was i n c o m p a t i b l e w i t h u n s e l e c t i y e i m i t a t i o n ( t h e r e f o r e w i t h e m p i r i c i s m , b u t t h i s d i d n o t n e c e s s a r i l y mean i t c o u l d not be i n s p i r e d by n a t u r e ) , . and a p p e a l e d t o t h e i n t e l l e c t , o r a t l e a s t n o t e x c l u s i v e l y t o t h e s e n s e s . Of c o u r s e , scenes o f s t r o n g emotions were s t i l l e x c l u d e d . The e f f e c t o f t h e work was t o be " r e s t f u l " f o r t h e s p i r i t , and n o t 118 s t r e n u o u s f o r t h e i n t e l l e c t - j u s t p l e a s i n g . C h a p t e r I , P a r t 2 The "New T e n d e n c i e s " i n the P a i n t i n g o f t h e 189 0s. I n t r o d u c t i o n . T h i s s e c t i o n w i l l d e a l m o s t l y w i t h t h e e x p a n s i o n o f t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n i n t o t h e f i e l d o f e a s e l p a i n t i n g . W h i l e t h i s p r o c e s s began e a r l i e r , i t can be c o n s i d e r e d t o be t h e s p e c i - f i c tendency o f F r e n c h avant-garde p a i n t i n g i n t h e 1890s. From t h i s s e c t i o n i t w i l l be a l s o e v i d e n t t h a t i n t h e e a r l y 18 90s t h e r e was a t r e n d toward " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g w h i c h was q u i t e g e n e r a l , and encompassed not o n l y t h e young avant-garde p a i n t e r s , b u t a l s o t h e o l d e r ones. I t i s i m p o r t a n t t o remember, though, from t h e l a s t s e c t i o n , t h a t " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g d i d n o t have t h e same meaning as i n t h e 1860s and 1870s (which was p u r e l y " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " ) . Even when an e a s e l p a i n t i n g remained a t t r a c t - i v e t o t h e senses t h r o u g h i t s c o l o u r f u l e f f e c t , i t had t o be com- posed, i t had t o be a p a i n t i n g o f S t y l e ( t h e r e f o r e f e a t u r i n g l i n - e a r contours,, s i n c e S t y l e was c o n s i d e r e d t o be embodied i n "the c o r r e c t i o n o f t h e l i n e " ) , i n o r d e r t o be decorative."''' I n t h e l a t e 1880s and e a r l y 1890s, a N a t u r a l i s t p a i n t i n g , i . e . based on t h e p o s i t i v i s t method o f e m p i r i c a l o b s e r v a t i o n , c o u l d not be q u a l i f i e d as " d e c o r a t i v e " anymore. A d e c o r a t i v e c o m p o s i t i o n im- p l i e d a p r o c e s s of s e l e c t i o n and g e n e r a l i z a t i o n o r b e t t e r , o f s y n t h e s i s , a p r o c e s s of r e f l e c t i o n and r e a s o n i n g . The s p o n a n e i t y o f v i s u a l " s e n s a t i o n " was r e p l a c e d . w i t h a more c o n c e p t u a l p r o - c e s s . Thus p r o t o t y p e s o f " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g were now con- 2 s i d e r e d t o be P o u s s i n and t h e " a r c h i t e c t u r a l " C o r o t . The mid and l a t e 1890s w i l l be d i s c u s s e d s e p a r a t e l y , s i n c e - 52 - t h e n o t i o n o f " d e c o r a t i v e " t a k e s a g a i n a new meaning. The t r e n d toward " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g had v a r i o u s m a n i f e s - t a t i o n s , a c c o r d i n g t o t h e a r t i s t ! s p a r t i c u l a r i d e o l o g i c a l p o s i - t i o n . The most i n n o v a t i v e m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f t h i s t r e n d ( e x p r e s s e d and p r o f e s s e d f o r example by t h e Pont-Aven and N a b i groups - groups t o w h i c h I w i l l r e f e r as " S y m b o l i s t s - S y n t h e t i s t s , " i n o r d e r t o d i s t i n g u i s h them from o t h e r brands o f Symbolism, such as a d v o c a t e d by P e l a d a n ) , was t h a t w h i c h t r a n s f o r m e d e a s e l p a i n t i n g from t a b l e a u i n t o a movable " d e c o r a t i o n . " An attempt t o c l a r i f y t h e r e a s o n s f o r t h e t r e n d toward " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g w i l l be made. A. The new . " d e c o r a t i v e " tendendy i n t h e F r e n c h avant-garde p a i n t i n g o f the 1880s and e a r l y 1890s and t h e " I d e a l i s t R e n a i s s a n c e . " A " d e c o r a t i v e " e a s e l p a i n t i n g was n o t something new. Im- p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g was a l s o " d e c o r a t i v e , " but i n t h e " m a t e r i a l - i s t i c " sense o f t h e 1870s, i . e . was c o m p a t i b l e w i t h p o s i t i v i s m . The new " d e c o r a t i v e " tendency t h a t r e a c h e d i t s peak i n the 1890s was t h e r e f l e c t i o n o f an " I d e a l i s t R e n a i s s a n c e , " o r a t l e a s t o f 3 a s t r o n g a n t i - p o s i t i v i s t r e a c t i o n . P o s i t i v i s m was t h e number one enemy o f C a t h o l i c i s m , and the r o o t s o f t h i s r e a c t i o n a r e t o be found i n . t h e C a t h o l i c and t h e R i g h t wing r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t t h e f o r c e s o f the L e f t (which had adopted a p o s i t i v i s t p h i l o s - ophy) . S i n c e the R i g h t l o s t t h e " p o l i t i c a l was" o f 1879, i t i t c o n c e n t r a t e d i t s energy on a " r e l i g i o u s " o r " i d e o l o g i c a l war" d u r i n g t h e 1880s. C o n s i d e r i n g t h e s u c c e s s o f v a r i o u s a s p e c t s o f Symbolism, I d e a l i s m , m y s t i c i s m even, a t t h e b e g i n n i n g - 53 - o f t h e 1890s decade, one might c o n c l u d e t h a t t h i s " i d e o l o g i c a l war" was t e m p o r a r i l y won by t h e C a t h o l i c - R i g h t wing s i d e . To t h i s s i t u a t i o n c o n t r i b u t e d some changes i n t h e o u t l o o k o f t h e do- minant c l a s s , t h e b o u r g e o i s i e . The 1890s b e f o r e t h e D r e f u s a f - f a i r a r e c h a r a c t e r i z e d by "compromise." The O p p o r t u n i s t (or Mod- e r a t e ) R e p u b l i c a n s then i n power, b e i n g s c a r e d by t h e r a i s i n g S o c i a l i s t movement, p r e f e r r e d a r e a l i g n m e n t w i t h t h e C a t h o l i c R i g h t (which i n t u r n was a d v i s e d by t h e Pope toward a R a l l i e m e n t ) . C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o d e s c r i b e d t h e s i t u a t i o n q u i t e a c c u r a t e l y : I t i s a s i g n o f the t i m e s , my d e a r . The b o u r g e o i s i e f r i g h t - ened, a s t o n i s h e d by t h e immense clamor o f t h e d i s i n h e r i t e d masses, by t h e i n s i s t e n t demands o f t h e p e o p l e , f e e l s t h a t i t i s n e c e s s a r y t o r e s t o r e t o t h e p e o p l e , t h e i r s u p e r s t i - t i o u s b e l i e f s . Hence t h e b u s t l i n g o f r e l i g i o u s s y m b o l i s t s , r e l i g i o u s s o c i a l i s t s , i d e a l i s t a r t , o c c u l t i s m , Buddism, e t c . , e t c . 6 The r e a s o n s as t o why t h e i n t e l l e c t u a l a r t i s t i c avant-garde a c t i v e i l y took p a r t i n t h i s " I d e a l i s t R e n a i s s a n c e " go f a r beyond!; t h i s 7 p r e s e n t t h e s i s . They v a r i e d from i n d i v i d u a l t o i n d i v i d u a l and from group t o group, as w e l l as i n r e s p e c t t o t h e degree o f " I d e a l ism" a c c e p t e d . The f a c t i s t h a t an a n t i - p o s i t i v i s t a t t i t u d e was a g e n e r a l tendency among a v a n t - g a r d e and j u s t e - m i l i e u a r t i s t s a t g the t i m e . I t . i s perhaps an e x a g g e r a t i o n on the p a r t o f the c r i t i c M e l l e r i o t o i n c l u d e i n "The I d e a l i s t Movement i n P a i n t i n g " t h e mosaic o f groups and i n d i v i d u a l s he assembled under the same u m b r e l l a . But i n f a c t M e l l e r i o d i d not r e f e r t o a p h i l o s o p h i c a l i d e a l i s m t h a t r e j e c t s the o b j e c t i v e e x i s t e n c e o f t h e m a t e r i a l w o r l d , b u t s p e c i f i c a l l y t o I d e a l i s m (as opposed t o R e a l i s m ) i n p a i n t i n g . M e l l e r i o 1 s " i d e a l i s t " s t i l l t a k e s N a t u r e as a " s t a r t - i n g p o i n t , " t h a t i s he recognizes:; i t s o b j e c t i v e e x i s t e n c e , but t h e s u b j e c t o f h i s work o f a r t i s t h e " c e r e b r a l t r a n s f o r m a t i o n " o f t h i s N a t u r e , the "pure c o n c e p t , " i n s t e a d o f t h e s e n s o r y p e r - c e p t i o n . M e l l e r i o opposed an a r t based o n l y on a p e r c e p t u a l p r o c e s s , on t h e i n d i s c r i m i n a t e r e c o r d i n g o f o b s e r v a t i o n s a c c o r d - i n g t o t h e e m p i r i c i s t methodology a d v o c a t e d by p o s i t i v i s t s , t o a c o n c e p t u a l a r t t h a t makes c h o i c e s , s e l e c t s , t h r o u g h a v o l u n t a r y , r a t i o n a l p r o c e s s . The most encompassing d e s c r i p t i o n o f t h e avant-garde a r t o f t h e 18 90s, w h i c h does n o t r e f e r o n l y t o I d e a l i s t a r t p r o p e r ( t h a t i s based on a p h i l o s o p h i c a l l y I d e a l i s t substratum) i s t h a t o f b e i n g " d e c o r a t i v e , " i n an a n t i - p o s i t i v i s t c o n n o t a t i o n o f t h e term I n a wide sense i t means an a r t t h a t was not p u r e l y " p e r c e p t u a l , " b u t a l l o w e d f o r a m i x t u r e of. R e a l i s m and I d e a l i s m , and was con- c e r n e d w i t h " d e c o r a t i v e beauty" not w i t h " l i t e r a t u r e . " I n a s t r i c t e r sense i t was a c t u a l l y based on t h e p r i n c i p l e s of. "decora t i o n , " and c o u l d t a k e t h e form o f a h i e r a t i c , I d e a l i s t a r t (such as S y m b o l i s m - S y n t h e t i s m ) . S y m b o l i s t - S y n t h e t i s t a r t (Pont-Aven,. N a b i s ) , w h i c h had t h e s u p p o r t o f t h e young S y m b o l i s t w r i t e r and c r i t i c A l b e r t A u r i e r , an a r d e n t C a t h o l i c , o f N e o - P l a t o n i s t i c p h i l o s o p h i c a l i n c l i n a t i o n , was " d e c o r a t i v e " a r t o r " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" i n a c l e a r - c u t i d e a l i s t i c : ' a c c e p t a n c e o f the term. I t borrowed t h e f o r m a l i s m o f ab- s o l u t e l y f l a t " d e c o r a t i o n " (of t h e t y p e recommended by t h e G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t s ) f o r a p e r f e c t a c c o r d between form and content.'''''" I t i s n o t a c o i n c i d e n c e t h a t such a r d e n t C a t h o l i c s as E. B e r n a r d o r M. D e n i s and o t h e r N a b i s r e s u s c i t a t e d V i o l l e t - l e - D u c . As Roger Marx p o i n t e d o u t , "Le procede" de M. M a u r i c e D e n i s e s t c e l u i meme que V i o l l e t - l e - D u c recommende aux f r e s q u i s t e s : . 1 un d e s s i n e n l u m i n e , a p e i n e modele' ,* de f a i t , une s i m p l e t e i n t e - 55 - 12 p l a t e r e h a u s s e l ' i n t e r v a l l e compris dans l a cernge du c o n t o u r ; " Marx e x p l a i n e d t h a t i t was "the p r i n c i p l e o f t h e i r d o c t r i n e " w h i c h l e d t h e young S y m b o l i s t s t o t h e s o u r c e s o f " M e d i e v a l t r a - 13 d i t i o n , " a l l u d i n g t o t h e i r r e l i g i o u s f a i t h . He n o t i c e d t h a t •"l'epoque e s t venue de d o u t e r du d o u t e , e t un b e s o i n i m p e r i e u x de 14 c r o i r e s ' e s t empare de 1' ame moderne..." Roger Marx had a l - i r e a d y , i n 1892, d e d i c a t e d an a r t i c l e i n Le V o l t a i r e t o t h e i n - volvement o f the S y m b o l i s t s i n t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , p o i n t i n g out a t the same t i m e the. s i m i l a r i t y between t h e a e s t h e t i c s o f O r i e n t - 15 a l a r t and the a r t o f t h e M i d d l e Ages. Indeed, S y m b o l i s t a r t borrowed from t h e h i e r a t i c a r t o f the p a s t (when t h e t a b l e a u as such d i d not even e x i s t ) , as w e l l as from the Japanese p r i n t s and f o l k a r t , not o n l y i n d e c o r a t i o n s , but a l s o i n "independent" e a s e l p a i n t i n g s . S y m b o l i s t a r t i s t s d i d n o t b e l i e v e i n double s t a n d a r d s : one f o r d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , a n o t h e r f o r t a b l e a u x . Ac- c o r d i n g t o t h e i r i d e o l o g y , the t a b l e a u was " m a t e r i a l i s t " a r t , because o f i t s r e a l i s t i c t r o m p e - 1 ' o e i l e f f e c t s , even when i t was e x e c u t e d a c c o r d i n g t o t h e academic " i d e a l . " M a u r i c e D e n i s ( i n accordance w i t h A u r i e r ' s p o i n t o f view)' e x p l a i n e d why t h e y d i d n o t choose t h e academic " i d e a l " k Le mot i d e a l e s t t r o m p e u r r ' i l date d'une epoque d 1 a r t mat- e r i a l i s t e . On ne s t y l i s e pas a r t i f i c i e l l e m e n t , apres coup, une c o p i e s t u p i d e de l a n a t u r e . . . L e p o i n t de vue s y m b o l i s t e v e u t que nous c o n s i d e r i o n s 1'oeuvre d ' a r t comme 1 1 e q u i v a - l e n t d'une s e n s a t i o n r e c u e : .lYa n a t u r e peut done n ' e t r e , pour 1 ' a r t i s t e , qu'un e t a t de sa p r o p r e s u b j e c t i v i t y , E t ce que : nous appelons l a d e f o r m a t i o n s u b j e c t i v e , e ' e s t p r a t i q u e m e n t l e s t y l e . 16 A v e r y i m p o r t a n t c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f t h e S y m b o l i s t - S y n t h e t i s t p a i n t i n g i s the f a c t t h a t i t i s a p e i n t u r e de 1'ame, a p e i n t u r e i n t e r i e u r e , o f i n n e r f e e l i n g s o r emotions ( m y s t i c a l i n n a t u r e o r n o t ) , o f dreams, o f " I d e a s . " These Ideas and " s t a t e s o f t h e s o u l " -S56 - were not supposed-to be e x p r e s s e d e x p l i c i t l y , t h r o u g h an " i s t o r i a " ( i n t h e A l b e r t i a n sense) t h a t would "move t h e s o u l o f t h e s p e c t a - t o r " by e x p r e s s i v e g e s t u r e s . L i t e r a r y s u b j e c t - m a t t e r (even an a l - 17 l e g o r y i f i t were t o o e x p l i c i t ) was d i s c a r d e d i n the same way t h a t M a l l a r m e d i s c a r d e d " p r o s e , " a n d r e p l a c e d i t by a s u b t l e sug- 18 g e s t i o n a c h i e v e d s o l e l y t h r o u g h f o r m a l means. The "Idea" was e x p r e s s e d i n S y m b o l i s t - S y n t h e t i s t ; p a i n t i n g (which wanted t o be " a r t f o r . a r t ' s sake") by " l i n e , " by " S t y l e , " s i n c e as the c r i t i c Bouyer c o n c i s e l y p u t i t , S t y l e was a " v o l u n t a r y c o n v e n t i o n t i e d 19 i t s e l f t o t h e I d e a . " Symbolism-Synthetism u l t i m a t e l y borrowed d e c o r a t i v e a r t a e s t h e t i c s (from p r a c t i c a l s o u r c e s and from t h e w r i t i n g s o f t h e r e f o r m e r s , d i s c u s s e d i n the f i r s t p a r t o f t h i s c h a p t e r ) as a means o f r e i n t r o d i n g S t y l e ( l e s t y l e , not neces- s a r i l y "a s t y l e " ) i n t o p a i n t i n g , w i t h o u t h a v i n g t o go back t o t h e academic " i d e a l . " The d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , as e n v i s a g e d by t h e o r i - g i n a l r e f o r m e r s , were a l s o " a r t f o r , a r t ' s sake" i n an i d e a l i s t i c framework. Of c o u r s e , i n d e c o r a t i o n p e r s e , the S t y l e i s t i e d o n l y t o a c o n c e p t o f b e a u t y , and e x p r e s s e s o n l y t h e " c h a r a c t e r " o f t h e m o t i f (when t a k e n from n a t u r e ) . I n S y m b o l i s t p a i n t i n g , S t y l e was a l s o an e x p r e s s i o n . o f a s u b j e c t i v e " s t a t e o f s o u l " o r o f I d e a s , and t h e s e were e x p r e s s e d by " d i s t o r t i o n s . " I n h i s Notes i n e d i t e s , E m i l e B e r n a r d e x p l a i n e d how the f o r m a l i s m o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s s e r v e d t o s y m b o l i z e " l ' i d e e des choses en dehors de ces choses"': A ne l e c o n s i d e r e r que du d e h o r s , l e symbolisme e s t un systeme d e c o r a t i f analogue aux v i t r a u x ou aux t a p i s s - e r i e s . Le t r a i t du c o n t o u r y e s t a p p a r e n t , l e s formes n'y s o n t que sommairement model€es ou ne l e s o n t pas du t o u t , l e c l a i r - o b s c u r en e s t b a n n i , l a touche n'y joue aucun r o l e , i l n'y a pas de r e l i e f . C'est une p e i n t u r e p l a t e a s s e z analogue a c e l l e des crepons j a p o n a i s . Le c o l o r i s e t l e s t y l e en s o n t t o u t l e f o n d : mais l a c o u l e u r n'y e s t c o n s i d e f e e que s e l o n 1'usage qu'on f a i t dans l e s - 57 - t a p i s o r i e n t a u x ou l e s e n l u m i n u r e s . E l l e e s t a p p l i q e e pure ou avec l e moins d 1 a l t e r a t i o n s p o s s i b l e s . Comme e l l e d o i t d e t e r m i n e r l e s e n t i m e n t ou 1 ' e t a t m e n t a l du t a b l e a u , e l l e e s t adaptee au s b j e t .; c ' e s t l a son c a r a c t e r e de symbole. Quant au s t y l e , d e f o r m a t e u r s e l o n ce q u ' i l v e u t d i r e , i l e s t engendre p a r l e s o u v e n i r qu'a l a i s s e l ' o b j e t , p u i s q u e j a m a i s 1 ' a r t i s t e ne d o i t c o p i e r c e l u i - c i . 20 Thus S y m b o l i s t - S y n t h e t i s t p a i n t i n g r e c o n c i l e d t h e f o r m a l elements C o l o u r (n.b. a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e " s e n t i m e n t , " and " s y m b o l i c a l , " 21 as e n v i s a g e d by Ch. B l a n c ), and L i n e ( a s s o c i a t e d w i t h S t y l e , ex- p r e s s i o n o f the I d e a ) . S i n c e t h e i d e a s were e x p r e s s e d t h r o u g h l i n e and form d i r e c t l y , not t h r o u g h t h e s u b j e c t - m a t t e r , t h e S t y l e 22 was, as B e r n a r d (and o t h e r s ) c a l l e d i t , d e f o r m a t e u r . As M a u r i c e D e n i s p u t i t , t h e S y m b o l i s t p r a c t i s e d two k i n d s o f d i s t o r t i o n s : an " o b j e c t i v e , d i s t o r t i o n , " i n a c c o r d w i t h t h e laws o f d e c o r a t i o n , and a " s u b j e c t i v e d i s t o r t i o n " r e l a t e d t o an e x p r e s s i v e way o f r e - 23 p r e s e n t i n g "the symbol o f a s e n s a t i o n . " The f o r m a l i s m o f S y m b o l i s t - S y n t h e t i s t p a i n t i n g was d i c t a t e d by an I d e a l i s t , even m y s t i c a l c o n t e n t . I t i s n o t s u r p r i s i n g t h e n t h a t i t was borrowed from t h e f o r m a l i s m o f the f l a t d e c o r a t i o n , w h i c h i n i t s t u r n was m o t i v i t a t e d o r i g i n a l l y by s i m i l a r c o n s i d e r a t i o n s . I n . h i s c r i t i - c i s m , Alphonse Germain (upholder o f t h e "Western t r a t i o n , " as I a l r e a d y mentioned, and n o t s y m p a t h e t i c toward t h e S y m b o l i s t - S y n t h e t i s t s t y l e as was Roger Marx) c l e a r l y p o i n t e d o u t t h e con- n e c t i o n between " a d a p t i n g t o t h e t a b l e a u t h a t w h i c h was c r e a t e d s e e m i n g l y f o r s t a i n e d g l a s s windows o r m o s a i c s " and t h e b e l i e f 24 t h a t " a r t i s not r e a l i t y . " C o n s i d e r i n g t h e propaganda f o r t h e r e v i t a l i z a t i o n o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , and t h e e d u c a t i o n s r e - forms t h a t f a m i l i a r i z e d t h e a r t s t u d e n t s w i t h t h e " t r u e p r i n c i - p l e s " o f d e c o r a t i o n , t h a t t o o k p l a c e p r i o r t o the appearance o f S y m b o l i s t p a i n t i n g , i t i s u n d e r s t a n d a b l e t h a t t h e a r t i s t s - 58 - adapted t h e s e "ready-made f o r m u l a s " t o t h e e a s e l p a i n t i n g . F o r E m i l e B e r n a r d who took c o u r s e s a t the E c o l e des A r t s D e c o r a t i f s ( e s t a b l i s h e d as such i n 1877 on the p r e m i s e s o f t h e " P e t i t E c o l e " ) b e f o r e he e n t e r e d the Academie Cormon (where he met A n q u e t i n , T o u l o u s e - L a u t r e c and Van Gogh), and who was one o f the f i r s t young avant-garde a r t i s t s t o p r a c t i s e t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , i t was q u i t e n a t u r a l t o a p p l y t o e a s e l p a i n t i n g a s t y l e 25 d e r i v e d from d e c o r a t i o n . . T h i s s t y l e , t o be l a b e l l e d " C l o i s o n - ismy" was c l a i m e d by B e r n a r d as h i s own i n v e n t i o n . I do not propose t o s o l v e here the problem o f the p a t e r n i t y o f C l o i s o n - i s m , b u t i t i s w i d e l y acknowledged t h a t the i n i t i a t i v e was 26 B e r n a r d ' s . He emphasized he was a " C h r i s t i a n " ( r e a d : a ~27 " t r u e " C h r i s t i a n ) who was l o o k i n g f o r a " h i e r a t i c s t y l e - " Gauguin d e v e l o p e d a s i m i l a r s t y l e w o r k i n g on h i s c e r a m i c s , be- f o r e he met B e r n a r d , b u t i t seems he i n t r o d u c e d t h i s s t y l e i n t o h i s p a i n t i n g s o n l y a f t e r he f e l t encouraged by t h e example o f 2 8 the younger p a i n t e r . Gauguin was n o t r e l i g i o u s , nor was he a N e o - P l a t o n i s t , and b e f o r e h i s f r i e n d s h i p w i t h B e r n a r d he be- l i e v e d i n d i f f e r e n t s t a n d a r d s f o r d e c o r a t i v e a r t s and e a s e l p a i n t i n g . Gauguin's p a i n t i n g s were more i n a c c o r d w i t h the up- 29 h o l d e r s o f "Western t r a d i t i o n " i n d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g . H i s S y n t h e t i s m , even i n h i s " C l o i s o n i s t " p e r i o d , was not a p e r f e c t i m i t a t i o n o f c l o i s o n n e e , s i n c e the dark c o n t o u r s were not f i l l e d w i t h a b s o l u t e l y f l a t , monochrome c o l o u r . ^ He n e v e r gave up t h e p r a c t i c e o f " c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s " common t o t h e Chinese vases t h a t i n s p i r e d C h a p e l e t , w i t h whom he worked, and he a l s o 31 used t h i s t e c h n i q u e i n o r d e r t o model form. Gauguin borrowed a l s o Cezanne's method o f c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s , d e v e l o p e d i n the - 59 - 1880s (as f o r example i n Farmhouse w i t h Haystack o f Autumn 1888, Cat. Welsh-Ovcharov, #54) . He used h i s own method o f " z e b r e e " p a i n t i n g w h i c h he d e v e l o p e d e a r l i e r under the i n f l u e n c e o f P i s s a r r o and Degas, not o n l y i n o r d e r t o break t h e monotony o f 32 a f l a t monochrome s u r f a c e , b u t a l s o f o r m o d e l l i n g . W h i l e w e l l aware o f the f a c t t h a t m o d e l l i n g was i n a p p r o p r i a t e i n de- c o r a t i o n , Gauguin d i d n o t r e p r e s e n t f i g u r e s as f l a t s i l h o u e t t e s , 33 as B e r n a r d and Denis d i d . He was p a r t i c u l a r l y c a r e f u l i n m o d e l l i n g the human f a c e (except f o r t h a t o f C h r i s t , t o empha- s i z e i t s s p i r i t u a l c h a r a c t e r ) . I n h i s p a i n t i n g s from T a h i t i ( a f t e r 1891), the human f i g u r e r e v e a l s a " c l a s s i c a l " s o l i d i t y . T r u l y " f l a t " d e c o r a t i v e s t y l e s , i n accordance w i t h the G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t s p r e c e p t s , such as the s t y l e s i n s p i r e d by c l o i s o n n e e , m e d i e v a l s t a i n e d - g l a s s windows o r m a n u s c r i p t i l - l u m i n a t i o n s , were i n t r o d u c e d i n the l a t e 1880s i n t o e a s e l p a i n t - i n g by a r t i s t s o f N e , o - P l a t o n i c and/or m y s t i c a l o r i e n t a t i o n , and 34 t h e i r c l o s e a s s o c i a t e s . These s t y l e s were p a r t l y t h e r e s u l t o f the i n t e r a c t i o n between S y m b o l i s t w r i t e r s and avant-garde. p a i n t e r s . The former saw i n the f o r m a l i s m o f d e c o r a t i o n a p r o p e r way t o e x p r e s s the "Idea" i n - p a i n t i n g , b y - p a s s i n g " p r o s e " l i t e r a r y s u b s t r a t e , the same way S y m b o l i s t p o e t r y d i d , r e l y i n g 35 o n l y on i t s f o r m a l e l e m e n t s . (The way chosen t o e x p r e s s i d e a l i s m t h r o u g h the s u b j e c t - m a t t e r , such as f o r example the m y s t i c a l a l l e g o r i e s r e q u i r e d by P e l a d a n , need not c o n c e r n us here.) In t h e l a t e 1880s f l a t n e s s i n p a i n t i n g was a s s o c i a t e d w i t h i d e a l i s m . T h i s a s s o c i a t i o n no l o n g e r h e l d f o r the d e c o r a - t i v e a r t s , f o r w h i c h s e p a r a t e "laws" were a c c e p t e d now as "common sense.1.' But g i v i n g an e a s e l p a i n t i n g (or even an o i l - 60 - p a n e l ) the a s p e c t o f a m e d i e v a l s t a i n e d g l a s s window f o r ex- 3 6 ample, was an i d e a l i s t s t a t e m e n t . As I mentioned e a r l i e r , t h e . r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t p o s i t i v i s m ( t r a n s l a t e d i n a r t as r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t N a t u r a l i s m ) was e v i d e n t not o n l y i n a r t i s t s and c r i t i c s o f I d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h i c a l o r i e n t a t i o n , o r p a r t i s a n s o f r e a c t i o n a r y p o l i t i c s . Many r e - j e c t e d p o s i t i v i s m w i t h o u t r e j e c t i n g t h e o b j e c t i v e r e a l i t y o f t h e m a t e r i a l w o r l d , and f a v o r e d i n a r t a m i x t u r e o f " R e a l i s m " and " I d e a l i s m " (to use t h e terms employed a t t h e time) , a "comprom^ 37 i s e . " In t h e f o r m a l i s m o f t h a t avant-garde p a i n t i n g o f the e a r l y 189 0s w h i c h d i d not p u r p o s e f u l l y a s s o c i a t e i t s e l f w i t h t h e I d e a l i s t S y m b o l i s t movement ( f o r a more d e t a i l e d d i s c u s s i o n see s e c t i o n " C " ) , t h i s p o s i t i v i s t r e j e c t i o n m a n i f e s t e d i t s e l f e s - p e c i a l l y i n an o r i e n t a t i o n toward s y n t h e s i s and a new emphasis on " l i n e . " I t r e f l e c t e d an adherence t o the r e d e f i n e d , l e s s m a t e r i a l i s t i c concept o f " d e c o r a t i v e . " But even when t h e forma- l i s m a c t u a l l y borrowed t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f " d e c o r a t i o n " (as I be- l i e v e i s t h e case w i t h Cezanne p a i n t i n g s ) , i t d i d n o t borrow from t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s t h a t r e q u i r e d a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s , such as p o s t e r s , w a l l p a p e r s , o r s t a i n e d g l a s s windows, o r f o r t h a t mat- t e r i t d i d n o t borrow from E g y p t i a n , B y z a n t i n e , o r G o t h i c a r t , b o t h t h e l a c k o f depth as w e l l as t h e l a c k o f m o d e l l i n g . o f o b j e c t s . B. The new " d e c o r a t i v e " tendency as d e f i n e d by c r i t i c s i n t h e e a r l y ,1890s: A u r l e r v e r s u s Lecomte. C r i t i c s o f v a r i o u s p e r s u a s i o n s emphasized t h a t the new t e n d e n c i e s i n t h e p a i n t i n g o f the 1890s were c h a r a c t e r i z e d by a p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h t h e " d e c o r a t i v e . " The most e l o q u e n t - 61 - w r i t e r s on t h i s s u b j e c t were G. A l b e r t A u r i e r and Georges Lecomte. They were a l s o r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s o f t h e two main c u r - r e n t s i n the c r i t i q u e o f the avant-guarde i n the e a r l y 1890s: p a r t i s a n s o f an I d e a l i s t a e s t h e t i c ( A u r i e r ) and those who o p t e d f o r a compromise between R e a l i s m and I d e a l i s m (Lecomte). I n e s t a b l i s h i n g the most avant-garde t r e n d , t h a t i s the t r e n d t o - ward the " d e c o r a t i v e , " b o t h c r i t i c s f o u g h t t o ensure p r i o r i t y f o r the p a i n t e r s they defended. B u t , because o f t h e i r d i f - f e r e n t i d e o l o g i c a l p o s i t i o n s they had d i f f e r e n t views on what " d e c o r a t i v e " i n p a i n t i n g s h o u l d be. E s s e n t i a l l y , Lecomte ad- v o c a t e d " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g as u n d e r s t o o d a t t h e t i m e , w h i l e A u r i e r wanted a l l p a i n t i n g t o be " d e c o r a t i v e painting';"" t h a t 3 8 i s " d e c o r a t i o n . ' ! The young S y m b o l i s t w r i t e r A l b e r t A u r i e r s t r o n g l y r e a c t e d a g a i n s t " m a t e r i a l i s t " a e s t h e t i c s (such as T a i n e ' s o r Z o l a ' s ) . Not o n l y was he a g a i n s t p o s i t i v i s m , b u t he was a c t u a l l y a Neo- P l a t o n i s t , adept o f P l o t i n u s and P l a t o , and a l s o h e l d the b e l i e f t h a t " o n l y m y s t i c i s m can save o u r s o c i e t y from d e g r a d a t i o n , 39 s e n s u a l i s m , and u t i l i t a r i s m . " L i k e the G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t s o r Havard, he a s s o c i a t e d the development o f the independent, " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " t a b l e a u w i t h decadent c i v i l i z a t i o n s , and de- c l a r e d i n h i s a r t i c l e i n the Mercure de France o f March 1891, "Le Symbolisme en p e i n t u r e , " La p e i n t u r e n'a pu e t r e c r e e que pour d e c o r e r de pensees, de r e v e s e t d ' i d e e s l e s murales b a n a l i t e s des e d i f i c e s humains. Le t a b l e a u de c h e v a l e t n ' e s t qu'un i l l o g i q u e r a f f i n e m e n t i n v e n t e pour s a t i s f a i r e l a f a n t a i s i e ou 1 ' e s p r i t commercial des c i v i l i s a t i o n s decadentes.40 T h e r e f o r e he s t a t e d t h a t " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " i s i n f a c t "the - 62 - t r u e p a i n t i n g " , b u t he made i t c l e a r t h a t he.meant the "de- c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g p r o p e r , as was u n d e r s t o o d by the E g y p t i a n s , v e r y l i k e l y by the Greeks and t h e Primitives,...", I n o t h e r words A u r i e r was not i n t e r e s t e d o n l y i n the o r n a m e n t a l f u n c t i o n o f p a i n t i n g (which c o u l d be performed by f a c s i m i l e s o f t a b l e a u x as i t has been s i n c e the R e n a i s s a n c e ) , b u t i n " t r u e " d e c o r a - t i o n , as e n v i s a g e d by t h e r e f o r m e r s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . As i n the case o f the G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t s , A u r i e r a d v o c a t e d t h e r e - t u r n t o r a p a r t i c u l a r f o r m a l i s m because i t p r o j e c t e d an i d e a l i s t c o n t e n t . I n f a c t t o make s u r e i t i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t the sub- s t r a t u m o f t h i s a r t was a t r u e i d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h y , he used the term " Ideist3.'„' Thus, he d i s t i n g u i s h e d the p a i n t i n g he was s u p p o r t i n g from t h e academic " I d e a l i s t " p a i n t i n g , w h i c h was d o i n g n o t h i n g more than m o d i f y i n g m a t e r i a l o b j e c t s a c c o r d i n g 42 t o p a r t i c u l a r norms o r c o n v e n t i o n s . To see the d i f f e r e n c e , a c c o r d i n g t o A u r i e r , one s h o u l d n o t have a m a t e r i a l i s t c o n c e p t - i o n o f the w o r l d and s h o u l d not " p r e f e r Auguste Comte and 43 C o n d i l l a c t o P l o t i n u s and Plato':'.' A u r i e r s t a t e d t h a t "de- c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g i n t h e p r o p e r sense... i s n o t h i n g e l s e b u t t h e m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f an a r t a t the same time s u b j e c t i v e , s y n t h e t i c , s y m b o l i s t and i d e i s t 1 . ' " ^ The c r i t i c c o n s i d e r e d P a u l Gauguin as the head o f the young " s y n t h e t i s t s , i d e i s t s , symbolists; 1 , 1 t h e " i n i t i a t o r o f a new a r t " ; o r as he p u t i t i n the a r t i c l e , "Les S y m b o l i s t e s / V o f 1892, Gauguin was the " i n - c o n t e s t a b l e " i n i t i a t o r o f an " a r t i s t i c movement" which one day 45 might be c o n s i d e r e d a "Renaissance!;'" The c h a r a c t e r o f "de- c o r a t i o n " was the e s s e n t i a l f e a t u r e o f t h i s new a r t . Were they g i v e n the means, the a r t i s t s o f t h i s new movement, A u r i e r - 63 - e x p l a i n s , would have a r r i v e d " a t an a r t o f d e c o r a t i o n , an a r t 4 6 o f monumental f r e s c o e s , r a t h e r t h a n a t e a s e l p a i n t i n g s . " The 1891 a r t i c l e , w h i c h makes a s t r o n g case f o r Gauguin (as w e l l as f o r a l l t h e " I d e i s t " p a i n t e r s ) as d e c o r a t o r , ends w i t h a d r a m a t i c a p p e a l : "...you have i n your m i d s t a d e c o r a t o r o f 47 g e n i u s : w a l l s 1 w a l l s I g i v e him w a l l s I" As p r o o f o f Gauguin's p o t e n t i a l a b i l i t y t o a c h i e v e g r e a t m u r a l d e c o r a t i o n s , A u r i e r named t h e a r t i s t ' s e a s e l p a i n t i n g s , w h i c h c o u l d e a s i l y be seen as "fragments o f g i a n t f r e s c o e s . " A u r i e r made i t c l e a r he was l o o k i n g f o r the c o u n t e r p a r t i n the p l a s t i c a r t s o f t h e r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t N a t u r a l i s m t h a t took p l a c e i n l i t e r a t u r e . I n t h e p r e v i o u s y e a r he had a l r e a d y des- c r i b e d Van Gogh as "a S y m b o l i s t , " b u t a t t h e same time as a 48 " r e a l i s t " , " v e r y aware o f m a t t e r . " True S y m b o l i s t a r t was based on i d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h y though, and i n Van Gogh he d e t e c t e d o n l y " i d e a l i s t t e n d e n c i e s , " w h i l e Gauguin was " P l a t o p l a s t i c a l - 4 9 l y i n t e r p r e t e d by a g e n i a l savage." A c c o r d i n g t o A u r i e r , Gauguin's p i c t o r i a l oeuvre was "marked by a p r o f o u n d and h i g h l y 50 i d e a l i s t i c p h i l o s o p h y . " I d e a l i s m , not s i m p l y " s u b j e c t i v i s m , " was t h e main c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f Symbolism; t h i s i s why A u r i e r 51 so c l e a r l y opposed Symbolism and I m p r e s s i o n i s m . I n t h e a r t i c l e o f 1891, A u r i e r a d m i t t e d t h e " s u b j e c t i v i t y " o f Im- p r e s s i o n i s t a r t , y e t he d i s m i s s e d I m p r e s s i o n i s m ( a c t u a l l y 52 naming P i s s a r r o and Monet) as a n o t h e r " v a r i e t y o f R e a l i s m . " He made i t a p o i n t t o c l a r i f y t h e d i s t i n c t i o n one s h o u l d make w i t h i n the "heterogeneous group o f Independent p a i n t e r s " be- tween the " I m p r e s s i o n i s t s " on t h e one hand, and the "newly - 6 4 - a r r i v e d , headed by Gauguin;" on the o t h e r . F o r the l a t t e r A u r i e r s u g g e s t e d the use o f a n o t h e r " i s t s " - e n d i n g word, such as S y n t h e t i s t s , I d e i s t s , o r S y m b o l i s t s . A c c o r d i n g t o him they r e p r e s e n t e d i n p a i n t i n g a new tendency t h a t p a r a l l e l l e d the s i t u a t i o n i n l i t e r a t u r e : "the agony o f N a t u r a l i s m " and an 53 " i d e a l i s t , even m y s t i c reaction':." A u r i e r was s t r o n g l y op- posed t o the " o f f i c i a l " p h i l o s o p h y ' o f I m p r e s s i o n i s m (as c r y s t a l - l i s e d i n t h e 1870s) as a movement, b u t was among the f i r s t t o welcome the changes he d e t e c t e d i n the l a t e s t p a i n t i n g s o f the 5 4 o l d I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , such as f o r example P i s s a r r o i ' s . Of c o u r s e P i s s a r r o , even l e s s t h a n Van Gogh, was n o t a good can- d i d a t e f o r embodying an i d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h y . Thus i n h i s f i r s t a r t i c l e i n which he wanted t o d e f i n e the Symbolism i n p a i n t i n g , A u r i e r ( p r o b a b l y under the i n f l u e n c e o f Gauguin and Bernard) d e c i d e d t o make a c l e a r break w i t h I m p r e s s i o n i s m and not t o com- p l i c a t e t h e m a t t e r by b r i n g i n g i n the l a t e s t changes i n t h e a r t o f i n d i v i d u a l I m p r e s s i o n i s t s . The S y m b o l i s t c r i t i c was k i n d e r t o w a r d " t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s i n 189 2, p o s s i b l y a t the s u g g e s t i o n 55 o f Denis o r S e r u s i e r . In "Les S y m b o l i s t e s " o f t h a t y e a r he a d m i t t e d the i n f l u e n c e o f Degas, Cezanne, Monet, S i s l e y , P i s s a r r o , as w e l l as t h a t o f t h e N e o - I m p r e s s i o n i s t s ( e s p e c i a l - l y S e u r a t ) and o f A n q u e t i n (who was not i n the Pont-Aven o r 5 6 N a b i groups) on the e v o l u t i o n o f the I d e i s t p a i n t e r s . Georges Lecomte, n o t a S y m b o l i s t h i m s e l f , b u t connected w i t h S y m b o l i s t c i r c l e s , was w e l l aware o f the d e c l i n e o f n a t u r a l i s m and p o s i t i v i s m and a c t u a l l y took an a n t i - p o s i t i v i s t , 57 a n t i - e m p i r i c i s t p o s i t i o n . He c o n s i d e r e d t h a t N a t u r a l i s m - 65 - n e g l e c t e d t h e s p i r i t u a l s i d e o f l i f e , t h e " i n t e r n a l l i f e , " b u t he d i d n o t s u b s c r i b e t o i d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h i e s , and was a g a i n s t C a t h o l o c i s m and m y s t i c i s m . He found i n t h e l a t e s t a r t o f t h e o l d e r i m p r e s s i o n i s t s t h e m i x t u r e o f R e a l i s m and I d e a l i s m he f a v o r e d , and c r e d i t e d them w i t h s w i t c h i n g from a n a l y s i s t o s y n t h e s i s , w i t h an i n t e l l e c t u a l p r o c e s s o f a b s t r a c t i o n from r e a b i t y t h a t r e p l a c e d t h e "immediate copy o f n a t u r e , " p r i o r t o any such a t t e m p t s among contemporary s c h o o l s . Lecomte's l e c t u r e a t t h e S a l o n des XX e n t i t l e d "Des tendances de l a p e i n t u r e moderne," p u b l i s h e d as a s e r i e s o f t h r e e a r t i c l e s i n L ' A r t Moderne o f 1892, as w e l l as t h e l a s t c h a p t e r of h i s book L ' A r t I m p r e s s i o n n i s t e o f t h e same y e a r , e n t i t l e d " L ' A r t de demain," can be seen as a r e p l y t o A u r i e r ' s "Le Symbolisme en p e i n t u r e " 58 o f March 1891. Lecomte c l e a r l y i d e n t i f i e d the "new t e n d e n - c i e s " (tendances n o u v e l l e s ) in:modern p a i n t i n g w i t h a p r o g r e s s - 59 i v e s e a r c h f o r d e c o r a t i v e beauty. He d e c l a r e d : E t c ' e s t p r i c i s e m e n t ce SOUCI DE BEAUTE DECORATIVE q u i nous p a r a i t , en dehors de t o u t e p r e o c c u p a t i o n s e c o n d a i r e ^ d e v o i r e t r e la,MARQUE DISTINCTIVE DE NOTRE EPOQUE DANS L'HISTOIRE GENERALE DE L'ART. 60 But Lecomte argued f o r D e l a c r o i x and t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s ( P i s s a r r o , Cezanne, R e n o i r , Monet) as b e i n g t h e t r u e o r i g i n a t o r s o f t h e new tendency o f p a i n t i n g toward t h e d e c o r a t i v e , and n o t t h e " I d e i s t . " He used t h e term p e i n t r e s i d e i s t e s i n t r o d u c e d by A u r i e r , w i t h the comment: " c ' e s t a i n s i que l e s c l a s s i f i a un 61 t r e s e l o q u e n t c r i t i q u e . " A l s o , Lecomte p o i n t e d o u t , t h e e f f o r t made by t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s "toward o r n a m e n t a l i n t e r - p r e t a t i o n s , b o t h t h r o u g h c o l o u r and l i n e s , " had been " e f f i - c i e n t l y c o n t i n u e d " by t h o s e whom F e l i x Feneon had dubbed t h e - 66 - "Neo-Tmpressionists.. Only a f t e r "these a l r e a d y c o n c l u s i v e a t t e m p t s , " Lecomte s a i d , had new p a i n t e r s a f f i r m e d t h e m s e l v e s as " p r o t a g o n i s t s o f an a r t more e x c l u s i v e l y m y s t i c , s y m b o l i c 6 3 and d e c o r a t i v e . " I n t h e c h a p t e r " L ' A r t de demain" o f h i s book L ' A r t I m p r e s s i o n n i s t e , Lecomte was even more c a t e g o r i c a l i n d e n y i n g the r o l e o f t r u e i n n o v a t o r s t o t h o s e p a i n t e r s " I d e i s t s , " t o whom he r e f e r r e d as t h e "newly a r r i v e d " : Les a n n o n c i a t e u r s de l ' A r t a v e n i r , c ' e s t - a d i r e de l ' A r t m y s t i q u e , symbolique e t d e c o r a t i f e x c l u s i v e m e n t , i n - novent moins q u ' i l s ne l e p e n s e n t . / L 1 E v o l u t i o n dont i l s se t a r g u e n t a e t e d e p u i s longtemps commencee par l e s p r e m i e r s i m p r e s s i o n n i s t e s eux-memes. Les nouveaux venues ne f o n t que l a c o n t i n u e r systematiquement, s e l o n une e s t h e t i q u e t o u t e p h i l o s o p h i q u e , avec une r e c h e r c h e t r e s i n t e n t i o n n e l l e de Pensee e t de Reve. 64 Lecomte had s t r o n g t i e s w i t h l i t e r a r y Symbolism, but w h i l e w e l l aware o f what he c a l l e d " t h i s i d e a l i s t R e n a i s s a n c e , " he made, i t c l e a r t h a t i n a r t he f a v o r e d (as d i d q u i t e a few o t h e r c r i t i c s a t t h e time) a compromise, a b l e n d i n g o f r e a l i s m and i d e a l i s m . ^ He admired t h o s e " b e a u t i f u l e v o c a t i o n s o f n a t u r e g o i n g beyond r e a l i t y , " w h i c h a r e b o t h " s u g g e s t i v e and r e p r e s e n t a - t i o n a l " and s t a n d f o r an a r t o f i n t e l l e c t u a l c h a r a c t e r . From such works ...se d^gage l a pensee, s ' e s s o r e l e r e v e . Le grand mystere de l a n a t u r e e s t p a r e l l e s rendu. C e t t e p e i n t u r e s a t i s f a i t 1'ame a u t a n t q u ' e l l e enchante l e s yeux. 66 A c c o r d i n g t o Lecomte such works had a l r e a d y been c r e a t e d by 67 t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s . But, he added, i n t h e i d e a l i z e d e v o c a - t i o n o f t h e s e m a t e r i a l b e a u t i e s , , t h e s e p a i n t e r s d i d not s a c r i f i c e any o f t h e " p l a s t i c q u a l i t i e s " t h a t c o n s t i t u t e t h e p i c t o r i a l beauty. F o r Lecomte, " i n p a i n t i n g , the d e c o r a t i v e i s a c c e p t a b l e o n l y as an e x t e n t i o n , a l o g i c a l development o f the truth;". He c r i t i c i s e d the I d e i s t p a i n t e r s f o r d i s t o r t i n g the human f i g u r e s and o b j e c t s i n an exaggerated manner, t o the p o i n t of " l a c k i n g resemblance and being unrecognizable!'". Lecomte, i n a very s y s t e m a t i c way, demolished the I d e i s t s ' c l a i m t o p r i o r i t y i n g i v i n g contemporary p a i n t i n g what he saw as i t s most s t r i k i n g f e a t u r e , namely i t s d e c o r a t i v e c h a r a c t e r . But there i s a fundamental d i f f e r e n c e i n the meanings of the concept d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g as envisaged by Lecomte and A u r i e r r e s p e c t i v e l y . Lecomte never e l u c i d a t e s the f a c t t h a t A u r i e r c a l l s f o r a r e t u r n to p a i n t i n g as " d e c o r a t i o n " o f w a l l s , as i t used t o be before the dreaded t a b l e a u l e d t o i t s emancipation. What Lecomte understands by d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g i s a d e c o r a t i v e t a b l e a u t h a t a p a r t from the c o l o r i s t i c e f f e t . i n c l u d e s an orna- 69 mental use of the l i n e , the arabesque. In t h a t sense, of course, one can b u i l d up a case f o r the " d e c o r a t i v e n e s s " of the I m p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g s going back to the 1870s, and t h i s i s e x a c t l y what Lecomte i s doing. He r e l a t e s t h a t i n the be- g i n n i n g , the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s ' concern f o r d e c o r a t i v e beauty was " i n s t i n c t i v e " and r e s t r i c t e d only to " d e c o r a t i o n through c o l - - \ 70 our.," They were " p l e i n a i r " p a i n t e r s , concerned with render- i n g "the t r u t h " about the n a t u r a l c o l o r a t i o n s , the l i g h t , the atmosphere, the enveloppements de c l a r t e s , and w i t h the "exact 71 d e s c r i p t i o n of the e f f e t " of p a r t i c u l a r s i t e s . AS was shown i n P a r t 1, a p a i n t i n g of "polychrome e f f e c t " (connected by Charles Blanc w i t h p l e i n a i r - i s m ) was a " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g 72 by the standards of the 1870s. C r i t i c s of the:1870s saw I m p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g s i n terms of both pochades or etudes - 68 .- and o f d e c o r a t i v e works (to be d i s t i n g u i s h e d from the e x p r e s - 73 s i v e p a i n t i n g s o f " S t y l e " ) . But they were not " d e c o r a t i o n s " i n the t r u e sense, they were s t i l l independent p a i n t i n g s , "windows" open t o n a t u r e , d e c o r a t i v e t a b l e a u x (or d e c o r a t i v e etudes i f one i s t o be f a s t i d i o u s about the l a c k o f f i n i s h ) . Even when they e x e c u t e d l a r g e s c a l e p a i n t i n g s w i t h a p a r t i c u l a r d e s t i n a t i o n i n mind ( t h a t i s , i n t e n d e d t o s e r v e as d e c o r a t i o n s ) , the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s o f the 1870s d i d not f u l f i l the c r i t e r i a o f d e c o r a t i o n e s t a b l i s h e d a t the time by t h e o f f i c i a l a e s t h e t i - c i a n s . T h e i r " d e c o r a t i o n s " were n o t h i n g b u t blown-up d e c o r a - t i v e t a b l e a u x , h a v i n g i n common w i t h a t r u e d e c o r a t i o n o n l y the f a c t t h a t t h e u n i t y o f e f f e c t was a c h i e v e d n o t t h r o u g h the u n i t y o f c h i a r o s c u r o , b u t by r e n d e r i n g the "envelope" o f a i r 74 and l i g h t , which t r a n s l a t e d i n t o u n i f o r m i t y o f v a l u e . So f a r the I m p r e s s i o n i s t " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g d i d n o t go beyond the N a t u r a l i s t , m a t e r i a l i s t i c - p o s i t i v i s t framework. The " e f f e c t " a c h i e v e d i n t h e i r p a i n t i n g s c o u l d be t a k e n as d e c o r a - t i v e and a t the same time as based on the e m p i r i c a l o b s e r v a - t i o n o f the n a t u r a l e f f e c t o f l i g h t . Lecomte h i m s e l f s a i d t h a t f o r a w h i l e "the c o n c e r n f o r l u m i n o s i t y " seemed t o d e f i n e the " t e n d e n c i e s o f modern a r t ; " and f o r a l o n g time he thought 75 t h i s t o be so. B u t , he added, now ( i n 189 2) he changed h i s o p i n i o n : i t became c l e a r t o him t h a t the p e r i o d o f " r e s e a r c h o f l i g h t " was o n l y a f i r s t s t e p i n what he saw as a c o n t i n u o u s p r o c e s s o f e v o l u t i o n toward the d e c o r a t i v e , namely the d e c o r a - t i o n by means o f c o l o u r a l o n e ("souci de d e c o r a t i o n p a r l a 76 c o u l e u r " ) . " G r a d u a l l y ; 1 ! Lecomte s a i d , the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s "detached themselves from r e a l i t y ; " d e l i b e r a t e l y m o d i f i e d "the e x t e r n a l a s p e c t o f t h i n g s ; 5 " and a c t u a l l y "composed, away from n a t u r e T h e n a t u r a l s i t e became "the e s s e n t i a l l e i t - m o t i v , t h e p r e t e x t f o r a d e c o r a t i v e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n ; 1 ' ! , w h i c h now i n c l u d e d the o r n a m e n t a l use o f the l i n e ; and not o n l y d i d the 77 d e s s i n become more summary, the c o l o u r a l s o became s i m p l e r . Lecomte makes i t c l e a r t h a t the " d e c o r a t i v e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n " i s a c h i e v e d t h r o u g h " s y n t h e t i c e l i m i n a t i o n o f the s u p e r f l u o u s 78 and the momentary" from t h e n a t u r a l m o t i f . The word " s y n t h e - t i c ; " no doubt, was meant t o s e r v e as a reminder t h a t the Im- p r e s s i o n i s t s were " S y n t h e t i s t s " b e f o r e Gauguin and h i s f o l l o w - e r s . Lecomte i m p l i e s t h e y were a l s o S y m b o l i s t s , s i n c e from t h e i r p a i n t i n g s emanate the t h o u g h t , the dream, the mystery 79 o f n a t u r e . The I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , however, were not g u i l t y o f e x a g g e r a t e d d i s t o r t i o n s o f o b j e c t s o r b e i n g s , nor d i d they v i o l a t e t h e " p l a s t i c i t y " o f p a i n t i n g , o r t h e concept o f t a b l e a u . The I d e i s t s were g u i l t y o f a l l t h o s e t h i n g s . The d r a w i n g was d i s t o r t e d , n o t d e s c r i p t i v e , the v a l u e s ( l i g h t t o dark) i g n o r e d - 80 t h e r e f o r e no m o d e l l i n g o f o b j e c t s , no " p l a s t i c i t y I',' A l s o t h e i r p a i n t i n g s had no d e p t h , no a e r i a l p e r s p e c t i v e , e v e r y - t h i n g seemed t o be i n the same p l a n e ; i n o t h e r words t h e y were n o t t a b l e a u x : Sous p r e t e x t e de s y n t h e s e e t de d e c o r a t i o n , on couvre l e s t o i l e s de t e i n t e s p l a t e s q u i ne r e s t i t u e n t p o i n t l e s lumineuses l i m p i d i t e s de 1'atmosphere, ne donnent p o i n t 1'enveloppment des c h o s e s , l a p r o f o n d e u r , l a p e r s p e c t i v e a e r i e n n e . Les v a l e u r s s o n t s i r a p p r o c h e e s ( p u i s s e n t - e l l e s t o u j o u r s e t r e en de r i g o u r e u x a c c o r d s ) que tous l e S g ^ p o i n t s d'un t a b l e a u semblent e t r e dans un p l a n i d e n t i q u e . Lecomte blamed the I d e i s t s ' d i s t o r t i o n s on t h e i r p h i l o s o p h i c a l i d e a l i s m and m y s t i c i s m , t h a t s a c r i f i c e s "the c h a r a c t e r o f t h i n g s " f o r an e x c l u s i v e c o n c e r n w i t h " e x p r e s s i n g i d e a s , 82 r e a l i z i n g theories.*'! He d e c l a r e d t h a t nobody l o v e d i n t e l - l e c t u a l i t y " and the e x p r e s s i o n o f the i d e a l more than he d i d , b u t he b e l i e v e d t h a t " i n the r e p r e s e n t a t i o n a l a r t s , the i d e a 8 3 s h o u l d be s u b o r d i n a t e d t o the pure p l a s t i c beauty!" He im- p l i e d t h a t o t h e r w i s e , i f i d e a s are a l l o w e d t o be dominant, " P a i n t i n g becomes l i t e r a r y and p h i l o s o p h i c a l ; " and even f e a r e d t h a t : - nous a r r i v e r o n s a c e t t e t r e s b i z a r r e e s t h e t i q u e , p h i l o - s o p h i q u e , r e l i g i e u s e , v o i r meme p o l i t i q u e , s e l o n l a q u e l l e l e s oeuvres p i c t u r a l e s se r e p a r t i s s e n t en deux c l a s s e s : c e l l e s q u i r e p r e s e n t e n t -des : s u j e t s n o b l e s ; c e l l e s q u i r e s t i t u e n t des v u l g a r i t e s . 8 4 Thus Lecomte i m p l i e d t h a t the I d e i s t s ' p a i n t i n g was n o t " p a i n t - i n g f o r p a i n t i n g ' s sakey" w h i c h was i n f a c t the utmost i n s u l t a c r i t i c c o u l d address t o an avant-garde a r t i s t . Of c o u r s e , M a u r i c e Denis f e l t c o m p e l l e d t o answer such an a t t a c k which v v - ; would have p l a c e d t h e S y m b o l i s t s - S y n t h e t i s t s i n the same c a t e - 85 gory w i t h the adepts o f P e l a d a n . Lecomte r e p r e s e n t e d the p o i n t o f view o f a r t i s t s who wanted t h e i r p a i n t i n g t o be " d e c o r a t i v e " i n t h e sense a c c e p t e d i n the e a r l y 1890s ( d e c o r a t i v e c o m p o s i t i o n , s y n t h e s i s , s t y l e ) , b u t n o t "decoration'. 1,' Who were t h e a r t i s t s " ( a s i d e from S y m b o l i s t s - S y n t h e t i s t s ) who a c t u a l l y i n t r o d u c e d the p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a - t i o n i n t o e a s e l p a i n t i n g a t the time when s e p a r a t e s e t s o f laws were commonly a c c e p t e d f o r t a b l e a u x and d e c o r a t i o n s and why? I w i l l t r y t o answer t h i s q u e s t i o n i n the n e x t s e c t i o n . - 71 - C. The a r t i s t s who a p p l i e d d e c o r a t i v e a r t s p r i n c i p l e s t o e a s e l p a i n t i n g by the e a r l y 1890s. I do not propose t o g i v e a complete l i s t o f t h e s e a r t i s t s , b u t t o p o i n t out the common g e n e r a l f e a t u r e s , o r r a t h e r g o a l s , t h a t bound o t h e r w i s e q u i t e d i s t i n c t i n d i v i d u a l i t i e s . I n my o p i n i o n , the a r t i s t s who a p p l i e d d e c o r a t i v e a r t s p r i n c i p l e s ( i n c l u d i n g the a r t s t h a t d i d not r e q u i r e a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s ) were those who f u l f i l l e d t h r e e c o n d i t i o n s : 1. A r t f o r a r t ' s s a k e , u n d e r s t o o d o n l y by an e l i t e f o r the time b e i n g . 2. A n t i - N a t u r a l i s m ( a n t i - m a t e r i a l i s m , a n t i p o s i t i v i s m , 8 6 a n t i - e m p i r i c i s m ) . 3. Acceptance o f the s t a t u s o f " d e c o r a t o r ^ " i m p l i c i t l y the l e a d of a r c h i t e c t u r e ; even d e s i r e t o e l i m i n a t e t h e t a b l e a u a l t o g e t h e r . I would l i k e t o emphasize t h a t a l l t h r e e c o n d i t i o n s had t o be met. Thus f o r example o l d I m p r e s s i o n i s t s who m o d i f i e d t h e i r 8 7 a r t i n the 1880s d i d not f u l f i l the t h i r d c o n d i t i o n . Of c o u r s e I e x c l u d e from t h i s d i s c u s s i o n t h e academic a r t i s t s , who would never dream t o mix t a b l e a u and d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . But even •'.' j u s t e - m i l l i e u " a r t i s t s d i d not produce e a s e l p a i n t i n g t h a t was a " t r u e " d e c o r a t i o n , because t h e i r s was n o t " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake : , " and even a f t e r h a v i n g m o d i f i e d the r i g i d academic 8 8 r u l e s , they s t i l l b e l i e v e d i n t a b l e a u . Each o f t h e s e t h r e e c o n d i t i o n s d e s e r v e s o f c o u r s e a b r i e f d i s c u s s i o n , t o the ex- t e n t they, can be d i s c u s s e d s e p a r a t e l y . The f i r s t c o n d i t i o n , the e l i t i s t " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" r e - q u i r e m e n t , i n d i c a t e s r i g h t away we are d e a l i n g w i t h avant-garde - 72 - a r t i s t s . " ^ I t i s r e l a t e d t o t h e fundamental q u e s t i o n : f o r whom d i d t h e s e a r t i s t s produce t h e i r a r t ? As I i n d i c a t e d i n P a r t 1 o f t h i s c h a p t e r , t h e i r a r t was i n t e n d e d m a i n l y f o r " e n l i g h t e n e d " amateurs, w i t h t h e hope t h a t i n the f u t u r e , a w i d e r segment o f a more j u s t s o c i e t y would be a b l e t o a p p r e c i a t e i t . As I a l s o i n d i c a t e d i n P a r t 1, " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" was e q u i v a l e n t w i t h " d e c o r a t i v e . " T h i s " d e c o r a t i v e " a r t was t h e one t o adorn t h e w a l l s , o f p r i v a t e houses and apartments o f the amateurs, as op- posed t o the a r t d e s t i n e d f o r p u b l i c b u i l d i n g s o r e x h i b i t e d a t the S a l o n , " f o r t h e g l o r y o f F r a n c e . " Such was t h e o f f i c i a l o p i n i o n i n the 1860s, when t h o s e who would be known as the 90 " I m p r e s s i o n i s t s " a r r i v e d on the a r t i s t i c scene. Among the k i n d o f a r t s u i t a b l e f o r the o r n a m e n t a t i o n o f p r i v a t e homes, C h a r l e s B l a n c l i s t e d p o r t r a i t s and l a n d s c a p e s "which t r a n s l a t e the p a i n t e r ' s emotion i n f r o n t of n a t u r e , t h e s e t a b l e a u x h o l - 91 l a n d a i s w h i c h our Frenchmen are d o i n g so w e l l . " D u r i n g the 1860s and 1870s, " d e c o r a t i v e " t a b l e a u x were d e f i n e d i n a mat- e r i a l i s t i c framework, aimed t o p l e a s e the eye through t h e i r 92 c o l o r i s t i c e f f e c t and m a n i p u l a t i o n o f the p a t e . Thus Im- p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g was c o n s i d e r e d by c r i t i c s as " d e c o r a t i v e . " But i n the 1880s and e a r l y 1890s the concept o f " d e c o r a t i v e " p u t f o r w a r d by t h o s e i n p o s i t i o n t o i n f l u e n c e t h e amateur's market, as we have seen, changed t o t h e p o i n t o f e x c l u d i n g from t h i s c a t e g o r y a N a t u r a l i s t p a i n t i n g l i k e the I m p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g o f the 1870s. T h i s i s why a c r i t i c l i k e Lecomte, who had p e r s o n a l f r i e n d s h i p s w i t h some o f the o l d I m p r e s s i o n i s t s and chose t o be t h e i r d e f e n d e r , was so i n s i s t e n t i n t h e e a r l y 1890s t h a t they were not " r e a l i s t s " now, t h a t they "composed" - 73 - t h e i r p i c t u r e s , and t h a t they used what was c o n s i d e r e d the " i n t e l l i g e n t arabesque." Indeed, the o l d I m p r e s s i o n i s t s ' a r t d i d move away from the " N a t u r a l i s t image" ( f o r some a r t i s t s more than f o r o t h e r s ) i n the 1880s, thus not s u r p r i s i n g l y 9 3 l o s i n g Z o l a ' s s u p p o r t . The second r e q u i r e m e n t , t h e " a n t i - N a t u r a l i s m i s i n t e r d e - pendent on t h e f i r s t one, t h a t i s , u l t i m a t e l y , on t h e q u e s t i o n : 9 4 " f o r whom was t h i s a r t i n t e n d e d ; " Of c o u r s e , p e r s o n a l , p o l i t i c a l and i d e o l o g i c a l i n c l i n a t i o n s p l a y e d an i m p o r t a n t r o l e . P i s s a r r o ' s a n t i - p o s i t i v i s t a t t i t u d e n e v e r went as f a r as R e n o i r ' s (who underwent an "Ingresque" p e r i o d ) or" Cezanne's. A l s o n e i t h e r P i s s a r r o nor R e n o i r embraced an i d e a l i s t p h i l o s o - phy as d i d the S y m b o l i s t s , t h u s n e i t h e r o f them i n t r o d u c e d i n p a i n t i n g t h e a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s o f a p o s t e r o r s t a i n e d g l a s s window. Of c o u r s e , n o t a l l avant-garde a r t i s t s who i n t r o d u c e d i n t o p a i n t i n g p r i n c i p l e s borrowed from t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s were m y s t i c s o r adopted a N e o - P l a t o n i s t p h i l o s o p h y . But t h e n , they f o l l o w e d o n l y g e n e r a l recommendations f o r d e c o r a t i o n s , r e g a r d i n g p e r s p e c t i v e , t h e l e v e l o f the h o r i z o n , c l a r i t y o r even emphasis o f t h e c o n t o u r s , o r borrowed from d e c o r a t i v e a r t s such as t a p e s t r y , t h a t a l l o w e d f o r a " b a s - r e l i e f " k i n d o f 95 f l a t n e s s , w i t h o u t a i m i n g toward t r u e f l a t n e s s . I n any e v e n t , S y m b o l i s t s o r n o t , the a r t i s t s who i n t r o d u c e d p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n i n t o e a s e l p a i n t i n g were t h o s e who wanted t h e i r p a i n t i n g s t o be c o n s i d e r e d " d e c o r a t i o n s ; " one not t o be o v e r - l o o k e d r e a s o n f o r t h i s b e i n g t h e m a r k e t i n g p o s s i b i l i t i e s . T h i s e c o n o m i c a l reason was c l e a r l y e x p r e s s e d by V i n c e n t Van Gogh i n a l e t t e r o f 1888 t o h i s b r o t h e r Theo: - 74 - N o t h i n g would h e l p us t o s e l l our canvases more than i f they c o u l d g a i n g e n e r a l acceptance as d e c o r a t i o n s f o r gg m i d d l e - c l a s s houses. The way i t used t o be i n H o l l a n d . The t h i r d c o n d i t i o n , w h i c h a g a i n , i s r e l a t e d t o the f i r s t two (because d e c o r a t i v e a r t s were d e f i n e d b o t h as " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" and as b e i n g i n c o m p a t i b l e w i t h n a t u r a l i s m ) d e f i n e s t h o s e a r t i s t s who were w i l l i n g t o a c c e p t the s t a t u s o f "de- c o r a t o r " o r even wanted t o a b o l i s h the independent t a b l e a u a l - t o g e t h e r . C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o f o r example was n o t one o f them, and he made i t c l e a r he f a v o r e d an a r t t h a t was " d e c o r a t i v e " 9 7 b u t n o t " d e c o r a t i o n . " On t h e o t h e r hand, a contemporary o f the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s b u t o u t s i d e t h e i r c i r c l e ( r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f the n o n - n a t u r a l i s t s i d e o f t h e non-academic c u r r e n t i n the second h a l f o f the 19th 98 c ) , P u v i s de Chavannes, became a t r u e " d e c o r a t o r . " He a l s o 9 9 b r o u g h t the a e s t h e t i c o f d e c o r a t i o n t o e a s e l p a i n t i n g . P u v i s a p p l i e d t o h i s e a s e l p a i n t i n g s the same p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a - t i o n he f o l l o w e d i n h i s murals r e s e m b l i n g 14th and 15th c. F l o r e n t i n e f r e s c o e s , because he b e l i e v e d i n r e t u r n i n g t o the o r i g i n a l r o l e o f p a i n t i n g as w a l l d e c o r a t i o n . The c r i t i c f o r the j o u r n a l L ' A r t i s t e (which had then a s t r o n g " j u s t e - m i l i e u " o r i e n t a t i o n ) e x p r e s s e d w e l l i n 1893 P u v i s ' g o a l : " . . . t e l l e e s t s a d i s t i n c t i v e o r i g i n a l i t e parmi l e s a r t i s t e s modernes, - s e u l ou a. peu p r e s e n t r e t o u s , i l t e n t a de r e s t i t u e r a l a p e i n t u r e l e c a r a c t e r e d e c o r a t i f q u i f u t , aux o r i g i n e s de c e t a r t , s a v e r i t a b l e r a i s o n d ' e t r e . . . " 1 0 0 I t i s n o t s u r p r i s i n g then t h a t A u r i e r l i n k e d Gauguin and P u v i s t o g e t h e r i n h i s a r t i c l e o f 1891, and t h a t the l a t t e r was r e v e r e d by a l l S y n t h e t i s t - - 75 - S y m b o l i s t a r t i s t s o f t h e e a r l y 1890s. J"WJ" The N a b i s , who became v e r y much i n v o l v e d w i t h apartment d e c o r a t i o n and o t h e r forms o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t i n t h e 1890s, were t h e most outspoken about t h e i r d e c o r a t i v e i n t e n t i o n s i n p a i n t i n g . They p u b l i c l y a d m i t t e d t h e s e i n t e n t i o n s e a r l y i n 1891, as f o r example i n the i n t e r v i e w p u b l i s h e d i n L'Echo de 102 P a r i s by Jacques K a u r e l l e . M a u r i c e D e n i s d e c l a r e d * Je pense qu'avant t o u t une p e i n t u r e d o i t o r n e r . Le c h o i x des s u b j e t s e t des scenes n ' e s t r i e n . C'est p a r l a s u r f a c e c o l o r e e , p a r l a v a l e u r des t o n s , p a r l ' h a r m o n i e des l i g n e s que j e p r e t e n d s a t t e i n d r e 1 ' e s p r i t , e v e i l l e r 1'emotion. 103 D e n i s , who was t h e t h e o r i s t o f t h e N a b i s , s t r o n g l y emphasized i n t h e e a r l y 18 90s t h e f l a t n e s s o f p a i n t i n g , t h u s i t s c h a r a c t e r o f " t r u e " d e c o r a t i o n . The S y m b o l i s t s , as I a l r e a d y i n d i c a t e d , wanted i n f a c t t o a b o l i s h t h e concept o f t a b l e a u a l t o g e t h e r . T h i s g o a l i s b e s t e x p r e s s e d by one o f t h e N a b i s , Verkade: V e r s l e debut de 1890, un c r i de g u e r r e f u t l a n c e d'un a t e l i e r a 1 ' a u t r e : P l u s de t a b l e a u de c h e v a l e t l A bas l e s meubles i n u t i l e s ! La p e i n t u r e ne d o i t pas u s u r p e r une l i b e r t e q u i l ' i s o l e des a u t r e s a r t s . Le t r a v a i l du p e i n t r e commence ou 1 ' a r c h i t e c t u r e c o n s i d e r e l e s i e n comme t e r m i n e . Le mur d o i t r e s t e r s u r f a c e , ne d o i t pas e t r e p e r c e pour l a r e p r e s e n t a t i o n d ' h o r i z o n s i n f i n i s . I I n'y a pas de t a b l e a u x , i l n'y a que des d e c o r a t i o n s . 104 What i s i m p o r t a n t t o r e t a i n i s t h a t none o f t h e a r t i s t s who i n t r o d u c e d the p r i n c i p l e s of d e c o r a t i o n i n t o p a i n t i n g t r i e d t o e x p l a i n t h e f o r m a l a s p e c t o f t h e i r works. by means o f " p e r c e p t i o n ' . " They d i d not say t h i s was t h e way t h e y "saw" t h i n g s , j u s t t h e op- p o s i t e , t h e y emphasized t h e c o n c e p t u a l c h a r a c t e r o f t h e i r a r t . They brought back a r t " t o t h e s i m p l i c i t y o f i t s b e g i n n i n g s , " as M a u r i c e Denis s a i d , because t h e y wanted t o r e a c t a g a i n s t N a t u r a - 105 l i s m . They a l s o wanted t o produce " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake." '- 76 - D. The mid and l a t e 189 0s. The l a s t y e a r s o f the 19th c e n t u r y w i t n e s s e d a d e c l i n e o f l i t e r a r y Symbolism, r e f l e c t e d a l s o i n t h e f i e l d o f p a i n t i n g . On the l i t e r a r y scene, Symbolism was d e f e a t e d by two new move- ments w h i c h l a u n c h e d t h e i r s y s t e m a t i c a t t a c k s s t a r t i n g in/t-he' e a r l y 1890s, namely the Romanic S c h o o l and the N a t u r i s t move- ment. The f i r s t one was founded by none' o t h e r than Jean Moreas (the a u t h o r o f the S y m b o l i s t "Manifesto"" o f 18 86) as e a r l y as 1891, and i t s t r u e l e a d e r became C h a r l e s Maurras, t h e r e a c t i o n a r y c r i t i c and j o u r n a l i s t who i n 189 8 was t o found the A c t i o n F r a n c a i s e i n o r d e r t o f i g h t the D r e y f u s a r d s . T h i s Romanic S c h o o l wanted t o r e s t o r e the G r e c o - L a t i n h e r i t a g e t o t h e F r e n c h l e t t e r s and i t e v e n t u a l l y e v o l v e d i n t o a N e o - c l a s - s i c i s t movement. Moreas accused "Romanticism and i t s P a r n a s s i a n , N a t u r a l i s t , and S y m b o l i s t descendants" o f b r e a k i n g "the con- t i n u i t y o f the G a l l i c c h a i n . " N a t u r i s m was a movement t h a t had t r i e d t o e s t a b l i s h i t s e l f s i n c e 189 2. I t r e a c t e d a g a i n s t a r t i f i c i a l i t y and the N a r c i s s i s t i c i n t r o s p e c t i o n o f Symbolism, a g a i n s t i d e a l i s t t e n d e n c i e s , i n f a v o r o f L i f e and N a t u r e . I t appeared f o r a s h o r t w h i l e , e s p e c i a l l y i n 1896 - 19 87, t h a t N a t u r i s m was t o be the s u c c e s s o r o f Symbolism, the n e x t g e n e r a l t r e n d t o w h i c h t h e new g e n e r a t i o n o f p o e t s would adhere. One r e a s o n i t d i d n o t succeed seems t o be the D r e y f u s A f f a i r t h a t p o l a r i z e d a r t i s t s and c r i t i c s . I n January 1898 Z o l a p u b l i s h e d h i s famous " J ' a c c u s e " i n L ' A u r o r e , and M a u r i c e Le B l o n d , p r i n - c i p a l f i g u r e i n the N a t u r i s t movement wrote a s e r i e s o f f a v o r a b l e a r t i c l e s on Z o l a i n L a Plume (February-May 1898), - 77 - c a l l i n g him an h e i r t o a d e m o c r a t i c t r a d i t i o n . T h i s was not the f i r s t time the main p r o t a g o n i s t s o f Natuf.ism : had .expresse'd t h e i r sympathy f o r Z o l a . But i n 1898 Z o l a was a t t a c k e d j u s t as much as D r e y f u s h i m s e l f , and many w r i t e r s who would have become N a t u r i s t s , perhaps o n l y t o f o l l o w a f a s h i o n , r e a l i z e d ( a c c o r d i n g t o t h e i r p o l i t i c a l c o n v i c t i o n s ) t h a t they had t o r e a c t i n f a v o r o f the e s t a b l i s h e d o r d e r and French t r a d i t i o n . " ^ 6 One o f the w r i t e r s who i n i t i a l l y was w i l l i n g t o a s s o c i a t e h i m s e l f w i t h the N a t u r i s t s was Andre Gide. I f o c u s on him because he was an i m p o r t a n t l i n k between the l i t e r a r y and a r t - i s t i c a v a n t - g a r d e , e s p e c i a l l y as a good f r i e n d o f M a u r i c e Den-:' . 107 x s . I n any e v e n t , i n the mid and l a t e . 1890s Symbolism came more and more under a t t a c k f o r i t s detachment from l i f e and r e a l i t y , from N a t u r e . As M i c h e l Decaudin s a i d i n h i s book La C r i s e des V a l e u r s S y m b o l i s t e s , De 1894 a 1898, l e s m o t s - c l e f ont change; on p a r l e moins de Reve, d ' I d e l a l , one proclame l e s beautes de l a N a t u r e , l e s s p l e n d e u r s de l a V i e ; 10 8 How d i d t h i s move away from i d e a l i s m and dreams, toward n a t u r e and l i f e a f f e c t S y m b o l i s t p a i n t i n g ? The S y m b o l i s t p a i n t e r s i n the mid-1890s were the N a b i s . One o f t h e i r d e f e n d e r s , Roger Marx,was i n a h u r r y t o d e c l a r e i n 1895 t h a t they "do not p r o - l o g f e s s the h a t r e d o f n a t u r e , " as t h e i r a c c u s e r s i m p l i e d . M a u r i c e D e n i s , the t h e o r i s t o f the N a b i s , a l s o t r i e d t o c o u n t e r - a c t such a c c u s a t i o n s as those mentioned by Marx. A l r e a d y i n March 189 5, Denis t r i e d t o persuade the r e a d e r s o f La Plume t h a t Symbolism was not r e a l l y an i d e a l i s t a r t : - 78 - L ' a r t s y m b o l i s t e n ' e s t pas c e t a r t de nevrose e t de f o l i e qu'on c r o i t generalement. l i n e f a u t pas se l a s s e r de d i r e en q u e l sens c e t a r t e s t i d g a l i s t e , e t en q u e l sens i t ne l ' e s t absolument pas. 110 The f o l l o w i n g y e a r , i n L ' A r t e t l a V i e o f October 1896, Denis was even more c a t e g o r i c a l i n d e n y i n g the i d e a l i s m o f p i c t o r i a l Symbolism, d e c l a r i n g : " C e r t a i n l y n o t , i t was n o t an i d e a l i s t theory." 1 1 "'" Denis was eager t o p o i n t out t h a t t h i s a r t was i n i t i a t e d n o t by the " p a i n t e r s o f the s o u l j " b u t by p a i n t e r s o f l a n d s c a p e and s t i l l - l i f e , and he e x e m p l i f i e d : " i n f l u e n c e o f Cezanne on Gauguin, B e r n a r d , e t c . " These i n i t i a t o r s were i m p a s s i o n e d f o r t r u t h and " l i v e d i n communion w i t h n a t u r e , " 112 and, Denis added, " I t h i n k w i t h o u t m e t a p h y s i c s . " \ Denis r e f e r r e d t o Cezanne i n h i s w r i t i n g s t h e f i r s t time i n 189 5, a t a time when he wanted t o prove t h a t Symbolism-Synthetism was 113 n o t based on i d e a l i s t t h e o r i e s . I n the same y e a r he t r i e d t o j u s t i f y h i m s e l f and o t h e r "young S y m b o l i s t s " f o r b o r r o w i n g from " t r a d i t i o n " ( t h a t i s the m e d i e v a l t r a d i t i o n w h i c h b r o u g h t upon them the a c c u s a t i o n s o f "archaism") on the account t h a t they 114 had t o r e a c t s t r o n g l y a g a i n s t the " n a t u r a l i s t ambiance." He a l s o e x p r e s s e d a b e l i e f i n the p o s s i b i l i t y t h a t one day they c o u l d be c l o s e r t o Nature ("Peut-etre un j o u r a r r i v e r o n t - 115 i l s a l a N a t u r e " ) . No doubt Denis' f r i e n d s h i p w i t h Andre* Gide had an i n f l u e n c e on h i s new i n s i s t e n c e on n a t u r e . A l s o G i d e 1 s d e c l a r a t i o n i n h i s N o u r r i t u r e s T e r r e s t r e s : " E n t r e t o u t e s l e s j o i e s des sens j ' e n v i a i s c e l l e s du t o u c h e r " i s i n a c c o r d w i t h D e n i s ' u n - S y m b o l i s t i n s i s t e n c e on the m a t i e r e o f 116 t h e p a i n t i n g . I n t h e mid-1890s D e n i s ' c o n c e p t o f p a i n t i n g became more h e d o n i s t i c , he t a l k e d about the o l d d i c t u m p u l c h r a - 79 - esse Quae v i s a p l a c e n t and added t o h i s d e f i n i t i o n o f p a i n t - 117 i n g t h e purpose o f i t : " f o r the p l e a s u r e o f t h e eye." I t i s t h i s h e d o n i s t i c t w i s t i n D e n i s ' a e s t h e t i c s (and f o r t h a t m a t t e r i n most of N a b i s ' p a i n t i n g ) , the new a d m i s s i o n t h a t the r o l e o f a r t i s t o p l e a s e the senses t h r o u g h b e a u t i f u l shapes, c o l o u r s and m a t i e r e , t h a t shows an abandonment o f Symbolism. The " S y m b o l i s t " t a g was s t i l l a t t a c h e d t o t h e N a b i s i n 1895-96 (and even i n l a t e r y e a r s , s i n c e l a b e l s d i e d h a r d ) . Yet w h i l e i t i s d i f f i c u l t t o p i n p o i n t e x a c t l y f o r each o f them when t h e y ceased t o be S y m b o l i s t s , the f a c t i s t h a t V u i l l a r d ( i n p a r t i c u - l a r ) , Bonnard, Ranson, even D e n i s , were then p r o d u c i n g p a i n t i n g t h a t was " d e c o r a t i v e " i n the m a t e r i a l i s t i c sense o f t h e word 118 (as i n t h e 1860s and 1870s) . In the e a r l y 1890s c o l o u r f u l p a t t e r n s o f checks and d o t s and f l o r a l m o t i f s , s i m p l y d e c o r a - t i v e i n the sense t h e y were p l e a s i n g t o the eye j u s t l i k e the p a t t e r n o f a c a r p e t , had a l r e a d y been used by the N a b i s . But by 189 3, i t i s s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t the S y m b o l i s t - C l o i s o n i s t l i n e 119 d i s a p p e a r e d a l m o s t c o m p l e t e l y from V u i l l a r d ' s p a i n t i n g . I n the mid-1890s he became more and more i n t e r e s t e d i n t e x t u r e s , h i s p a i n t i n g s had p a t e , the emphasis on m a t i e r e was v e r y p r o - nounced, the "temperament" ( v i s i b l e i n h i s p a t t e ) was r u n n i n g 120 f r e e . H i s f a v o r i t e s u b j e c t - m a t t e r was scenes o f d o m e s t i c 121 l i f e . Bonnard was i n t e r e s t e d i n 1895 i n s t r e e t s c e n e s , and he a l s o dropped the S y m b o l i s t l i n e . W h i l e t h e i r p i c t u r e s 122 were s t i l l f l a t , t h e y were more n a t u r a l i s t i c . Ranson's p a i n t i n g s o f the same p e r i o d can be c o n s i d e r e d A r t Nouveau, i f 123 t h i s l a b e l can be a p p l i e d t o p a i n t i n g a t a l l . D e n i s ' l i n e a l s o became more s i n u o u s and sensuous than i n the e a r l i e r - 80 - p a i n t i n g s , a l r e a d y i n t h e e a r l y 1890s, e s p e c i a l l y when the s u b j e c t was n o t o v e r t l y r e l i g i o u s . 1 2 4 The r e l a t i o n s h i p be- tween S y m b o l i s t - S y n t h e t i s t p a i n t i n g and A r t Nouveau i s q u i t e complex. There are d e f i n i t e s t y l i s t i c s i m i l a r i t i e s between the two, and the i n f l u e n c e the N a b i p a i n t i n g ( t o g e t h e r w i t h t h a t o f Gauguin, L a u t r e c and Van Gogh) had on the e l a b o r a t i o n o f t h i s i n t e r n a t i o n a l s t y l e c o n s i d e r e d t o be b o r n i n 189 3 i n B e l - 125 gium, i s now r e c o g n i z e d . We have t o keep i n mind, though, t h e fundamental d i f f e r e n c e i n p h i l o s o p h y between t h e two. The S y m b o l i s t - S y n t h e f i s t p a i n t i n g b e l o n g e d i n a p h i l o s o p h i c a l l y i d e a l i s t framework. I t r e p r e s e n t e d the I d e a , n o t the e x t e r n a l , m a t e r i a l w o r l d , and i t was i n t e n d e d f o r s p i r i t u a l d e l e c t a t i o n , n o t j u s t f o r the p l e a s u r e o f t h e eye. A r t Nouveau was an " e x t e r n a l " a r t , aimed o n l y t o p l e a s e the eye, and i f was a s t y l e d e v e l o p e d f o r the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , not f o r p a i n t i n g , 12 6 s u i t a b l e f o r m a s s - p r o d u c t i o n . I t d i d not e x p r e s s a n y t h i n g , i t was o n l y o r n a m e n t a l , and f e a t u r e d h i g h l y s t y l i z e d l i n e s and p a t t e r n s e n c l o s i n g f l a t t i n t s . A r t Nouveau e v o l v e d out o f a c o n s c i o u s e f f o r t t o c r e a t e a modern s t y l e i n d e c o r a t i o n , t o e l i m i n a t e " h i s t o r i c i s m . " I n F r a n c e , a f r e s h l o o k a t n a t u r e , a t o r g a n i c shapes, was s t r o n g l y recommended as an i n s p i r a t i o n f o r a new s t y l e , f o l l o w i n g a t r a d i t i o n t h a t can be t r a c e d back t o 12 7 ' V i o l l e t - l e - D u c and V.P. G a l l a n d . The p a t t e r n o f l e a v e s Denis used i n h i s S a c r e d Wood o f 189 3 can be i n t e r p r e t e d I n t h i s l i g h t . The N a b i s became i n v o l v e d w i t h v a r i o u s forms o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n the e a r l y 1890s, thus becoming p r e o c c u p i e d w i t h the c r e a t i o n o f a s t y l e (not t o be confounded w i t h S t y l e ) d e v o i d o f "archaismsvV Together w i t h T o u l o u s e - L a u t r e c and - 81 - o t h e r a r t i s t s o u t s i d e t h e i r own N a b i group, they p a r t i c i p a t e d i n the r e n a i s s a n c e o f d e c o r a t i o n t h a t took p l a c e i n the l a s t y e a r s o f the 19th c e n t u r y , b e i n g among the f i r s t t o e x h i b i t a t 12 8 B i n g ' s Maison de l ' A r t Nouveau. The N a b i s themselves p a r t i - c i p a t e d i n the p r o c e s s t h a t i n c o r p o r a t e d Symbolism i n t o a " d e c o r a t i v e s t y l e " i n w h i c h the i d e a l i s t s u b s t r a t u m was l o s t . The " l i n e " l o s t i t s p r e s t i g e as symbol o f t h e I d e a , became " s e n s u a l . " The S y m b o l i s t s were the f i r s t t o t r a n s f o r m p a i n t i n g s i n t o d e c o r a t i o n s and t o o p e n l y acknowledge t h i s f a c t , b u t by mid- 18903 t h i s t r e n d became t h e .general tendency o f avant-garde p a i n t i n g , e x c e p t t h e s e d e c o r a t i o n s were " d e c o r a t i v e " i n the m a t e r i a l i s t i c sense o f the word. The emphasis i n t h i s " p a i n t - i n g f o r i t s own sake" (soon t o be c a l l e d u s u a l l y "pure p a i n t - i n g " ) was on t e x t u r e s , p a t t e r n s , m a t i e r e , c o l o u r . I t r e t a i n e d the f l a t n e s s o f d e c o r a t i o n , b u t t h i s f l a t n e s s was n o t t o be i n t e r p r e t e d any more i n p a i n t i n g as " i d e a l i s m / " no more than i n any d e c o r a t i v e a r t . ' I t s . p h i l o s o p h y was a k i n t o t h a t o f A r t Nouveau, i n the sense t h a t i n t e n d e d o n l y t o be v i s u a l l y p l e a s - i n g ; b u t i t emphasized p a i n t e r l y q u a l i t i e s , and the "tempera- ment" o f the a r t i s t . I t was not i n t e n d e d f o r m e c h a n i c a l r e p r o - d u c t i o n , and perhaps as a r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t the v u l g a r i z a t i o n o f the c o n t i n u o u s l i n e a r c o n t o u r by A r t Nouveau, t h i s "pure p a i n t i n g " made l e s s and l e s s use of the l i n e . V u i l l a r d ' s p a i n t i n g s w i t h t h e i r t e x t i l e s - l i k e t e x t u r e , o r S i g n a c 1 s p a i n t - ' i n g s r e s e m b l i n g mosaics are among the b e s t examples o f t h i s " p a i n t i n g f o r i t s own sake" t h a t r e p l a c e d the t a b l e a u . C a m i l l e - 82 - M a u c l a i r c r i t i c i s e d t h i s new t r e n d o f t h e young a v a n t - g a r d e : Leur a r t ne f a i t p l u s que charmer l e s yeux. l i s l e s e n t e n t b i e n obscurement, puisque, l e u r grand mot, l e u r con- s t a n t d e s i d e r a t u m , c ' e s t l e d e c o r a t i f , c ' e s t - a - d i r e un a r t fonde s u r 1 1 agrement de l a e o u l e u r en elle-meme, a p p l i q u e a des d e f o r m a t i o n s d-'etres, f l e u r s , a c c e s s o i r e s , s e l o n l e p r i n - c i p e fondamental de 1'ornementation. On n'entend que ce mot d e c o r a t i f dans t o u s l e s a t e l i e r s . C e l a , a'.est l ' a r t de l a t a p i s s e r i e , de 1'arabesque e t de l a robe a u t a n t e t p l u s que l ' a r t p i c t u r a l . Beaucoup ne v e u l e n t p l u s f a i r e que c e l a , un grand nombre l e v e u l e n t meler a l ' e s t h e t i q u e d e . l a p e i n t u r e e t du paysage. Le c o u r a n t de ces o p i n i o n s e s t s i c a r a c t e r i s e , qu'on cherche meme a s u p p r i m e r l e t a b l e a u e n c a d r e . Cet o b j e c t p a r a l l e l o g r a m m a t i q u e que l ' o n suspend aux murs obsede l e s p e i n t r e s . On harmonise l a p e i n t u r e j a u x appartments, on 1'agence comme l e s t e n t u r e s , on 1'execute a t e i n t e s p l a t e s , par j u x t a p o s i t i o n s de t o n s , on r e d u i t ses t o n a l i t e s a une gamme c l a i r e s e l o n l ' e c l a i r a g e q u ' e l l e r e c e v r a . 129 M a u c l a i r c o n s i d e r e d t h a t t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s were t h e o r i g i n a - t o r s o f t h i s " d e c o r a t i v e r e v o l u t i o n , " meaning by " d e c o r a t i v e , " as I a l r e a d y mentioned, e x a c t l y t h e same t h i n g as t h e c r i t i c s o f the 1970s meant. L i k e many o t h e r e x - S y m b o l i s t w r i t e r s , M a u c l a i r d i d n o t approve t h e o r i e n t a t i o n o f t h e a v a n t - g a r d e toward o u t r i g h t m a t e r i a l i s m . He h e l d the o p i n i o n t h a t t h e r e i s a s u p e r i o r , a r t , one which a p p e a l s t o t h e i n t e l l e c t ( t h a t c o u l d i n c l u d e d e c o r a t i o n , such as P u v i s de C h a v a n n e s 1 ) , and an i n f e r i o r one w h i c h a p p e a l s t o t h e s e n s e s , i t i s d e c o r a t i v e . He admired t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s f o r t h e t e c h n i c a l achievements, b u t p l a c e d t h e i r a r t i n t h e second c a t e g o r y , and p u t f o r w a r d t h e i d e a t h a t " I m p r e s s i o n i s m i s above a l l a new e s s a y i n F r e n c h 130 d e c o r a t i o n . " B u t , M a u c l a i r r e m a r k e d , " t h e o l d e r ones i n 131 t h e group, even.now, d i d n o t renounce t h e t a b l e a u . " The young a v a n t - g a r d e however a c t u a l l y a b o l i s h e d t h e t a b l e a u , a f a c t t o w h i c h M a u c l a i r was now s t r o n g l y o b j e c t i n g . The c r i t i c was a l s o o u t r a g e d by t h i s l o v e o f m a t i e r e , w h i c h l e d t o t h e - 83 - i m i t a t i o n o f v a r i o u s m a t e r i a l s and t e x t u r e s i n p a i n t i n g , such as O r i e n t a l c a r p e t s , Japanese: c r e p o n , and v a r i o u s , t i s s u e s . T h i s i m i t a t i o n mania went so f a r as t o i m i t a t e the s p e c i f i c a s p e c t s o f one medium i n a n o t h e r (such as i m i t a t i n g o i l . p a i n t i n g i n w a t e r c o l o u r s and v i c e v e r s a ) . . M a u c l a i r c o m p l a i n e d t h a t t h e c o n n o i s s e u r ' s i n t e r e s t i n t h i s a r t works was not i n t e n d e d t o be f o c u s e d on "what t h e y r e p r e s e n t , " b u t on "the way t h e y a r e 132 made." Thus M a u c l a i r p o i n t e d out here the tendency o f p a i n t i n g t o become more " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake," i n t h e sense t h a t the s u b j e c t - m a t t e r becomes even l e s s i m p o r t a n t i n comparison w i t h t h e pure a c t o f p a i n t i n g , the p a i n t i n g ' s m a t i e r e , the d e c o r a t i v e p a t t e r n s and c o l o u r s to.be, admired f o r . t h e i r own sake. T h i s m a t e r i a l i s t i c a r t f o r a r t ' s sake can i n d e e d be con- n e c t e d w i t h t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s m o f t h e 187 0s as M a u c l a i r s a i d ( i n f a c t he made a b e t t e r case t h e n Lecomte f o r the Impres- s i o n i s t s as o r i g i n a t o r s o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e tendency, because he d i d n o t t r y t o c o n n e c t them w i t h t h e i d e a l i s t i c tendency A u r i e r was p r o m o t i n g ) . Van Gogh's p a i n t i n g a l s o s t r o n g l y f e a - t u r e d t h i s " m a t e r i a l i s m , " a f a c t which caused A u r i e r t o have 133 r e s e r v e s xn c a l l i n g him a " S y m b o l i s t " o u t r x g h t . The Neo- I m p r e s s i o n i s t s t r i e d t o s u p p r e s s t h e " m a t e r i a l " s i d e o f t h e i r p a i n t i n g d u r i n g t h e few y e a r s when t h e Symbolism was t r i u m p h a n t , but now t h e y emphasized t h e m o s a i c - l i k e c h a r a c t e r o f t h e i r p a i n t i n g s by e n l a r g i n g the " d o t s . " .This f a c t e x a s p e r a t e d P i s s a r . r o , who, as M a u c l a i r c o r r e c t l y remarked, d i d not want 134 t o t r a n s f o r m p a i n t i n g s i n t o d e c o r a t i o n s . . S i g n a c , on t h e o t h e r hand, was proud t o admit t h e y d i d j u s t t h a t . He s a i d http://Pissar.ro - 8 4 - that even small Neo-Impressionist paintings are to be con- sidered neither as "studies," nor as "easel paintings" (tableaux de chevalet), but as "decorations," specifying t h e i r kinship with Oriental carpets, mosaics, or tapestries: ...ces t o i l e s qui restituent de l a lumiere aux murs de nos appartements modernes, qui enchassent de pure couleurs dans des lignes rythmiques, qui participent du charme des tapis d 1 Orient, des mosaiques et des t a p i s s e r i e s , ne sont- e l l e s pas des decorations aussi? 135 In concluding t h i s section dealing with the defeat of Symbolism (therefore of Platonic idealism) by a return to the material world, to l i f e and nature, I want to point out that t h i s did not mean a return of the painting avant-garde to Naturalism, that i s to an art that had to give the impression that i t re- f l e c t e d only what the a r t i s t a c t u a l l y saw (even though the work was not always executed on the spot), an art of empirical observation. The m a t e r i a l i s t philosophy triumphed again, but not positivism. These "decorative" paintings were s t i l l "decorations," that i s they featured conceptual, intentional alterations, made by the a r t i s t i n order to comply'with the requirement of flatness i n decoration. Another observation i s that there i s no r e a l correspondence between the Naturist movement i n l i t e r a t u r e and the painting avant-garde, as had been the case with Mallarmean Symbolism, f i r s t of a l l because Naturism repudiated "art; for art's sake." Naturism did proclaim however that the "return to nature" con- s i s t e d i n a "joyous acceptance of the world" (in contrast with the Symbolist introspection), and t h i s i s what the decorative 136 "pure painting" of the turn of the century suggested. - 85 - But t o M a u r i c e D e n i s t h i s p a i n t i n g was soon t o suggest "anarchism" and " D r e y f u s s i s m . " The D r e y f u s A f f a i r , w h i c h r e s u l t e d i n the R a d i c a l R e p u b l i c a n s s e i z i n g . t h e p o l i t i c a l power i n 1899, p o l a r i z e d a r t i s t s , and i n t e l l e c t u a l s i n g e n e r a l . (For example among the o l d I m p r e s s i o n i s t s : Degas and R e n o i r were a n t i - D r e f u s a r d s , w i t h Degas e s p e c i a l l y becoming s t r o n g l y a n t i - s e m i t i c ; P i s s a r o and Monet were D r e f u s a r d s . ) On a r t i s t i c l e v e l t h i s p o l a r i z a t i o n i s b e s t i l l u s t r a t e d i n t h e work o f D e n i s and V u i l l a r d , and documented i n D e n i s ' w r i t i n g s and i n t h e l e t t e r s t h e y exchangedy V u i l l a r d became t h e Epitome o f "pure p a i n t i n g , " w h i l e Denis by 1898 j o i n e d t h e r e a c t i o n a r y N e o - C l a s s i c i s t movement. Because o f h i s a l l e g i a n c e t o C a t h o l i c i s m he became a s t r o n g s u p p o r t e r o f a n t i - D r e f u s s i s m and n a t i o n a l i s m , a s s o c i a t i n g h i m s e l f w i t h the cause o f C h a r l e s Maurras. He e n t e r t a i n e d a l o n g f r i e n d s h i p w i t h A d r i e n M i t h o u a r d , and e x p r e s s e d h i s s u p p o r t f o r c l a s s i c i s m and t r a d i t i o n a l i s m i n t h e l a t t e r V s p u b l i c a t i o n s , Le S p e c t a t e u r C a t h o l i q u e and e s - 137 p e c i a l l y i n L ' O c c i d e n t . F o r Denis c l a s s i c i s m meant f i r s t o f a l l " o r d e r , " as opposed t o the d i s o r d e r he d e t e c t e d i n "pure 138 p a i n t i n g , " w h i c h breeded anarchy and D r e f u s s i s m . I t meant r a l l y i n g w i t h t h a t G r e c o - L a t i n , and. F r e n c h t r a d i t i o n w h i c h f a v o r e d an a b s o l u t e i d e a l , , a g a i n s t , a l l modern m a n i f e s t a t i o n s o f i n d i v i d u a l i s m . Such m a n i f e s t a t i o n s were e v i d e n t i n b o t h I m p r e s s i o n i s m and Symbolism, w h i c h had f o r s a k e n t h e n o t i o n o f an " a b s o l u t e i d e a l beauty" and p a t i e n t m e t i e r , i n f a v o r o f i n - d i v i d u a l e x p r e s s i o n (of temperament, o r e m o t i o n ) , a c c o r d i n g t o 139 D e n i s . As e a r l y as September 1897, and a g a i n i n the f o l - l o w i n g y e a r , D e n i s had c r i t i c i s e d S y m b o l i s t a r t i s t s ( h i m s e l f i n c l u d e d , but e s p e c i a l l y V u i l l a r d ) i n a manner v e r y s i m i l a r t o 140 C h a r l e s M a u r r a s ' , t h e l e a d e r o f t h e Romanic S c h o o l . Yet o n l y i n 1895 Denis had defended S y m b o l i s t p a i n t i n g a g a i n s t ac- c u s a t i o n s made from a c l a s s i c i s t s t a n d . C r i t i c i z i n g "some o f to- day's l i t e r a r y men" ( l i t t e r a t e u r s d ' a u j o u r d ' h u i ) , D e n i s had p o i n t e d but t h a t f o r them t h e r e i s o n l y d i s t o r t i o n and u g l i n e s s o u t s i d e o f t h e a b s o l u t e t y p e s o f b e a u t y , norms o f harmony, p r o - p o r t i o n s . Y e t , D e n i s s a i d , even "the g l o r i o u s masters o f the R e n a i s s a n c e " d i d n o t b o t h e r w i t h e x a c t r e s e a r c h i n m a t t e r s o f p e r s p e c t i v e , anatomy and a r c h e o l o g y . I n f a c t , i m p l i e d D e n i s , t h e y had views, on a r t t h a t were s i m i l a r t o t h o s e o f t h e young N a b i s , s i n c e among o t h e r t h i n g s , " A r t f o r them was t h e beauty o f t h e d e c o r , the j o y f u l n e s s of b e a u t i f u l forms and b e a u t i f u l 141 c o l o u r s . " Now, i n F e b r u a r y 1898, he t r i e d t o c o n v e r t V u i l l a r d t o h i s new found c l a s s i c i s m (found p a r t l y under t h e guidance o f G i d e ) , and opposed Raphael and t h e " t h e o r y o f ab- s o l u t e i d e a l b e a u t y " on one hand, t o Thadee Natanson's " s e n s u a l - ism" and t h e " r e l a t i v i s t " t h e o r i e s c o n c e r n i n g beauty (to w h i c h 142 t h e " I m p r e s s i o n i s t t e n d e n c i e s " b e l o n g e d ) , on t h e o t h e r . Natanson (who was Jewish) was a p a r t i s a n o f t h e m a t e r i a l i s t i c "pure p a i n t i n g , " and a f r i e n d o f V u i l l a r d . As an i n f l u e n t i a l c r i t i c and f o u n d e r o f t h e Revue B l a n c h e ( w i t h h i s b r o t h e r s i n 1891), as w e l l as i n h i s r o l e o f w e a l t h y amateur, p a t r o n o f a r t , he u n d o u b t e d l y had a r o l e i n t h e changes t h a t took p l a c e a l - r e a d y i n t h e e a r l y 1890s i n t h e a r t o f V u i l l a r d , R o u s s e l and Bonnard, whom he f a v o r e d among t h e N a b i s . D e n i s was not i n - 143 v o l v e d w i t h Natanson and La Revue Blanche as V u i l l a r d was. - 87 - But he d i d m o d i f y h i s a e s t h e t i c s i n the d i r e c t i o n o f a more " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " concept o f " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" i n 1895. He was even p r e p a r e d t o " r e t u r n t o nature;!! n o t o n l y i n t h e sense t h a t the s u b j e c t - m a t t e r o f h i s p a i n t i n g s was t o be " e x t e r n a l , " e x t r a c t e d from l i f e , from r e a l i t y , b u t i n the sense o f a more 144 n a t u r a l i s t i c (but n o t " c o n v e n t i o n a l " ) r e n d e r i n g . Y e t i n 1901 he w r o t e : "On a t r o p p a r l e dans ces d e r n i e r s temps de l a 145 n a t u r e , de l a r e a l i t e e t de l a v i e . " He was a f r a i d t h a t such " b i g words" were l e a d i n g the academies and t h e B e a u x - A r t s t o - ward m i n d l e s s c o p i e s a f t e r n a t u r e ( i n s t e a d o f u s i n g the c l a s - 146 s i c a l method o f c o m p o s i t i o n , t h a t i s a r a t i o n a l c o n c e p t i o n ) . Denis became a l s o c r i t i c a l o f A r t Nouveau, and o f the e v o l u t i o n o f t h e avant-garde toward "pure p a i n t i n g 1 , " b o t h b e i n g a s s o c i a t e d w i t h the m a t e r i a l i s t p h i l o s o p h y , w h i c h was a f t e r a l l the p h i - l o s o p h y o f the R a d i c a l R e p u b l i c a n s . (He e m b r a c e d . p i c t o r i a l i d e a l i s m once a g a i n , now i n the form c r i t i c i s e d by Symbolism, 147 such as embodied i n the a r t o f I n g r e s . ) The main i s s u e now i s n o t so much though t h a t o f p h i l o s o p h i c a l i d e a l i s m , w i t h w h i c h many p r o g r e s s i v e a r t i s t s had i d e n t i f i e d i n the l a t e 1880s, t o g e t h e r w i t h C a t h o l i c s and R i g h t - w i n g , as a r e a c t i o n t o the c r a s s m a t e r i a l i s m o f t h e b o u r g e o i s s o c i e t y . F o r the r e a c t i o n a r y e l e m e n t s , c o n c e p t s such as " o r d e r " , " t r a d i t i o n " , " n a t i o n a l i s m " were t h e most i m p o r t a n t ones a f t e r the D r e y f u s A f f a i r . The k i n d o f n e o - P l a t o n i s t i d e a l i s m t h a t t u r n s the back t o the r e a l w o r l d , and a l l o w s f o r i d i o s y n c h r a t i c e x p r e s s i o n s o f o n e s e l f , c o u l d be j u s t as w e l l a s s o c i a t e d w i t h "anarchy" as the "pure p a i n t i n g " , was. I n f a c t , many S y m b o l i s t - 88 - w r i t e r s were a n a r c h i s t s y m p a t h i s e r s . T h i s i s why Denis was so c r i t i c a l o f the " i n d i v i d u a l i t y " m a n i f e s t e d i n the Symbolism o f the Nabis. i n 1898. But i f t h e most r e a c t i o n a r y elements i n a r t i s t i c c i r c l e s (such as Denis o r Bernard) t u r n e d t o c l a s s i c i s m as a means o f v i s i b l e s u p p o r t f o r R i g h t - w i n g p o l i t i c s , "pure p a i n t i n g " was n o t i n t e n d e d as a p o l i t i c a l statement (even though Denis o r B e r n a r d and o t h e r r e a c t i o n a r y c r i t i c s c o n s i d e r e d i t as an i n - c i t e m e n t t o a n a r c h y ) , r a t h e r i t e x p r e s s e d a. d e s i r e f o r non- i x. • . , . 14 8 i n v o l v e m e n t i n p o l i t i c s . In c o n c l u d i n g t h i s c h a p t e r , I w i l l emphasize a few s a l i e n t p o i n t s : The most i m p o r t a n t outcome of t h e r e v i v a l o f t h e d e c o r a - t i v e a r t s (a c o n t i n u o u s p r o c e s s d u r i n g the second h a l f o f the 19th c e n t u r y t h a t r e a c h e d i t s peak i n the 1890s) con- c e r n i n g t h e f i e l d o f p a i n t i n g was the r e n u n c i a t i o n o f t h e t a b l e a u . W h i l e the o l d I m p r e s s i o n i s t s changed t h e i r p a i n t i n g ac- c o r d i n g t o the new concept of " d e c o r a t i v e " (which had c l a s s i c i s t o v e r t o n e s ) , they s t i l l m a i n t a i n e d double s t a n - dards f o r the a e s t h e t i c s o f e a s e l p a i n t i n g and t h a t o f the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s i n the e a r l y 1890s. The a e s t h e t i c s o f f l a t " d e c o r a t i o n " ( f l a t t i n t s - l a c k o f m o d e l l i n g , as w e l l as l a c k o f s p a t i a l r e c e s s i o n ) was f i r s t a p p l i e d t o p a i n t i n g i n c o n n e c t i o n w i t h the " I d e a l i s t Ren- a i s s a n c e " by p a i n t e r s o f n e o - P l a t o n i s t and m y s t i c a l o r i e n t a t i o n who a l s o b e l i e v e d i n " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake." I n - 89 - t h e e a r l y 1890s t h i s p a i n t i n g w i l l be known as " S y m b o l i s t p a i n t i n g , " the a r t i s t s and t h e i r s u p p o r t i n g c r i t i c s o p e n l y a d m i t t i n g i t s c h a r a c t e r o f " d e c o r a t i o n . " By t h e l a t e 1890s, t h e a e s t h e t i c o f " d e c o r a t i o n " i s even more w i d e s p r e a d and p r o c l a i m e d as a d e s i d e r a t u m by a v a n t - garde p a i n t e r s ; e x c e p t f o l l o w i n g the d e c l i n e o f l i t e r a r y Symbolism t h i s p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n i s " d e c o r a t i v e " i n the " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " sense. T h i s "pure p a i n t i n g " r e t a i n e d the f l a t n e s s o f " t r u e " d e c o r a t i o n (not n e c e s s a r i l y a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s ) and emphasized t e x t u r e s , p a t t e r n s , c o l o u r , t h e m a t i e r e o f the p a i n t i n g , the p r o c e s s o f p a i n t i n g , the "temperament" o f t h e a r t i s t (a concept used i n " m a t e r i a l - i s t i c epochs" as S e r u s i e r would s a y , and w h i c h Denis cons. 149 n e c t e d w i t h " b e s t i a l i t y " ) . D i s s i d e n t s from the t r e n d toward p a i n t i n g as " t r u e " ( t h e r e - f o r e e s s e n t i a l l y f l a t ) d e c o r a t i o n such as Denis and B e r n a r d , who became N e o - C l a s s i c i s t s , r e j e c t f l a t n e s s i n p a i n t i n g , be i t e a s e l p a i n t i n g o r m u r a l d e c o r a t i o n . Denis f o r example admires the d e c o r a t i o n work o f I n g r e s and h i s p u p i l s , and i n s t e a d o f e m p h a s i z i n g the arabesque (as i n h i s S y m b o l i s t p e r i o d ) he emphasizes "volumes'." They are a l s o v e r y much a g a i n s t the " m a t e r i a l i s m " o f "pure p a i n t i n g ; ' " and g i v e a p e j o r a t i v e c o n n o t a t i o n t o t h e term " d e c o r a t i v e " when used i n the sense o f " p l e a s i n g the eye" or the senses o n l y . I t i s i m p o r t a n t t o keep i n mind Denis and B e r n a r d ' s changes o f o p i n i o n because t h e i r w r i t i n g s were v e r y i n f l u e n t i a l i n f o r m i n g the contemporary u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f Cezanne. - 90 - CHAPTER I I CEZANNE AND THE "DECORATIVE" TREND P a r t 1. Cezanne Seen.by H i s C o n t e m p o r a r i e s as a " D e c o r a t i v e " P a i n t e r I n t r o d u c t i o n . I n t h e 1890s, t o use M a u r i c e D e n i s ' e x p r e s s i o n , t h e word " d e c o r a t i v e " became t h e " t a r t e a l a creme o f t h e d i s c u s s i o n s among a r t i s t s , and even among gens du monde."1 From t h e l a s t c h a p t e r i t i s e v i d e n t t h a t t h e tendency f o r p a i n t i n g t o be " d e c o r a t i v e " was a g e n e r a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f avant-garde p a i n t - i n g o f t h i s p e r i o d . Was Cezanne o u t s i d e t h i s g e n e r a l t r e n d ? And i f n o t , d i d he p a i n t o n l y " d e c o r a t i v e " t a b l e a u x (or p e r - haps, more a p p r o p r i a t e , " d e c o r a t i v e " s k e t c h e s ) as h i s I m p r e s s i o n i s t f r i e n d s , o r " d e c o r a t i o n s " ? The main p r o t a g o n i s t s o f t h i s " d e c o r a t i v e " t r e n d - t h e S y m b o l i s t s o f t h e e a r l y 1890s, and t h e p a r t i s a n s o f "pure p a i n t i n g " - saw Cezanne as t h e i r i n i t i a t o r . The problem posed by t h e Cezanne c r i t i c i s m i s t h a t i t i s u s u a l l y d e l a y e d w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e time when t h e p a i n t i n g s were c r e a t e d . Cezanne had h i s f i r s t major e x h i b i t i o n a t V o l l a r d ' s i n 1895, and t h e r e he e x h i b i t e d p a i n t i n g s done much e a r l i e r t o g e t h e r w i t h new ones ( t h i s w i l l be t h e case i n a l l h i s subsequent e x h i b i t i o n s ) . B e f o r e 1895 t h e o n l y p l a c e s where Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s c o u l d be seen were a few p r i v a t e c o l l e c t i o n s , and e s p e c i a l l y Pere Tanguy's shop. T h i s b e i n g t h e c a s e , i t i s o f paramount - 91 - i m p o r t a n c e t o pay a t t e n t i o n t o t h e t i m e when t h e c r i t i q u e was w r i t t e n , because as i t i s e v i d e n t from t h e p r e v i o u s c h a p t e r , c o n c e p t s were v o l a t i l e , o f t e n c h a n g i n g t h e i r meaning. A l s o i t i s i m p o r t a n t t o be aware o f t h e c r i t i c ' s p o s i t i o n a t t h e t i m e , because t h i s was s h i f t i n g t o o i n many cases ( B e r n a r d and Denis b e i n g n o t o r i o u s e x a m p l e s ) . The d i s c u s s i o n w i l l p r o c e e d more o r l e s s i n a c h r o n o l o g i - c a l o r d e r , because t h i s way i t w i l l be e a s i e r t o keep t r a c k o f a l l t h e s e changes. But I s h a l l ask t h e r e a d e r t o keep i n mind a p a r t i c u l a r g r o u p i n g o f t h e c r i t i c s . Those who w r o t e about Cezanne between 1891 and 1907 (the y e a r o f t h e Cezanne r e t r o - s p e c t i v e e x h i b i t i o n a t t h e S a l o n d'Automne, one y e a r a f t e r h i s death) can be d i v i d e d i n t o two main groups. The f i r s t group, w h i l e r e c o g n i z i n g " d e c o r a t i v e " q u a l i t i e s i n h i s p a i n t i n g s , c o n s i d e r e d h i s " d i s t o r t i o n s " o f space and i n d i v i d u a l forms as i n v o l u n t a r y , due t o s h o r t c o m i n g o f p e r c e p - 2 t i o n and/or t e c h n i q u e . These c r i t i c s a r e d e s c r i b e d i n Chapter I , P a r t 2 as "compromising" R e a l i s m and I d e a l i s m , m a i n t a i n i n g an I n c l i n a t i o n toward r e a l i s t i c r e p r e s e n t a t i o n (not t o be con- founded w i t h R e a l i s m as s u c h ) , such as Lecomte and G e f f r o y . I n t h i s group we have t o i n c l u d e a l s o t h e " C l a s s i c i s t s " and t h e i r s u p p o r t e r s (Denis a f t e r 1898, B e r n a r d i n h i s " S o u v e n i r s " o f 1907, p u b l i s h e d i n t h e Mercure de F r a n c e , o r t h e c r i t i c Monod i n 1905, f o r example). N a t u r a l i s t c r i t i c s p r o p e r (such as T h l e . b a u l t - S i s s o n ) a l s o c o n s i d e r e d Cezanne's d i s t o r t i o n s i n v o l u n t a r y , s i n c e t h e y con- 3 s i d e r e d him a s o r t o f R e a l i s t manque. I n t h e p e r i o d under d i s - c u s s i o n , N a t u r a l i s m was o n l y a weak c u r r e n t i n t h e mainstream - 9 2 - a r t i s t i c a v a n t - g a r d e , as was p o s i t i v i s m , which s t i l l was a h i g h l y r e g a r d e d d o c t r i n e among R a d i c a l R e p u b l i c a n p o l i t i c i a n s (such as Clemenceau). The second group o f c r i t i c s d e a l t w i t h t h e d i s t o r t i o n as v o l u n t a r y a l t e r a t i o n s o f c o n c e p t u a l n a t u r e . To t h i s group be- l o n g t h e S y m t h e t i s t - S y m b o l i s t s o f t h e e a r l y 1890s ( f o r example B e r n a r d o f 1891) and t h e p a r t i s a n s o f "pure p a i n t i n g " (Thadee Natanson, P i e r r e Hepp, Roger Marx) as w e l l as t h o s e o f " p a i n t - i n g f o r p a i n t i n g ' s s a l e " i n a l e s s " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " sence ( S e r u s i e r , C a r l o s de C a s t e r a ) . I n 1907, i n an a r t i c l e i n t e n d e d f o r a d i f f e r e n t audience t h a n t h e M e r c u r e , w r i t t e n i n h i s R e n o v a t i o n E s t h e t i q u e , B e r n a r d a l s o a d m i t t e d Cezanne's d i s t o r - t i o n s were v o l u n t a r y , f o r t h e purpose o f d e c o r a t i o n , but he now meant i t as a p e j o r a t i v e comment. There were c r i t i c s who, w h i l e a d m i t t i n g Cezanne's p a i n t i n g b e l o n g e d i n t h e c a t e g o r y o f "pure p a i n t i n g , " were not i n f a v o r o f i t , because o f i t s " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " n a t u r e ( C h a r l e s M o r i c e , Denis and B e r n a r d - c o n c e r n i n g o n l y some a s p e c t s o f Cezanne's p a i n t i n g ) . I t i s s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t b o t h " f a t h e r s " o f C l o i s o n i s m i n p a i n t i n g , E m i l e B e r n a r d and L o u i s A n q u e t i n , when asked i n an i n t e r v i e w p u b l i s h e d i n L'Echo de P a r i s o f 1891: "which i s t h e 4 master you admire most?" named Cezanne as t h e i r f i r s t c h o i c e . E m i l e B e r n a r d d e c l a r e d l a t e r t h a t t h e t r u e b i r t h - p l a c e o f t h e Pont-Aven s c h o o l ( t h a t i s o f C l o i s o n i s m - S y n t h e t i s m ) was J u l i e n Tanguy's shop and t h a t "The s o - c a l l e d s c h o o l o f Pont-Aven would 5 be more j u s t l y c a l l e d t h e S c h o o l o f t h e S t r e e t C l a u z e l . " He a l s o w r o t e : - 93 - C'est dans 1'.ecole. d i t e de Pont-Aven que j e veux f a i r e f i g u r e r Tanguy, p a r c e que c e t t e e c o l e se d o i t t o u t e a l a c o n t e m p l a t i o n des t o i l e s de Cezanne e t que de Gauguin a S e r u s i e r , i l n'y a pas un s e u l s y m b o l i s t e ' q u i n ' a i t f a i t son p e l e r i n a g e rue C l a u z e l . 6 I n Tanguy's shop the f u t u r e S y m b o l i s t s became a c q u a i n t e d w i t h e a r l y p a i n t i n g s o f Cezanne, such as t h e l a r g e - s c a l e P o r t r a i t o f A c h i l l e Emperaire (V.88, 1967-70) - w h i c h b e l o n g e d t o t h e c o l l e c t i o n o f Pere Tanguy, a c c o r d i n g t o V e n t u r i - f e a t u r i n g f l a t c o l o u r and w e l l emphasized dark c o n t o u r s , a s h a l l o w space and a d e c o r a t i v e f l o r a l p a t t e r n on the a r m c h a i r , which seems t o be o f t h e same importance i n the p i c t u r e as t h e p o r t r a i t i t - 7 s e l f . I n the f i r s t a r t i c l e B e r n a r d wrote on Cezanne, p u b l i s h e d i n Les Hommes d ' A u j o u r d ! h u i a t the b e g i n n i n g o f 1891, he r a t e d t h e s e e a r l i e r works h i g h e r than the ones o f the "Impres- 8 s i o n i s t " p e r i o d . But a t the time he wrote t h i s a r t i c l e B e r n a r d was more i n t e r e s t e d i n Cezanne's l a t e r manner o f p a i n t i n g . (developed s i n c e the l a t e 1870s) . He e s p e c i a l l y p r a i s e d one o f v e r y few p a i n t i n g s by Cezanne w i t h a r e l i g i o u s s u b j e c t , one o f h i s v e r s i o n s o f the Temptation o f S a i n t Anthony ("belonging t o M. Murer'," t h a t i s V.241, a s c r i b e d by V e n t u r i t o the p e r i o d 9 1873-1877)--Fig. 4. B e r n a r d d e s c r i b e d i t s drawing as b e i n g "as n a i v e as p o s s i b l e , t h a t o n l y an a n c e s t r a l p o p u l a r image c o u l d g i v e an i d e a o f i t . " ^ P o p u l a r images (Images d ' E p i n a l ) were one o f t h e s o u r c e s o f i n s p i r a t i o n acknowledged by a l l S y n t h e t i s t - S y m b o l i s t s . . As e a r l y as 1889, K a r l Madsen (whose i d e a s were i n f l u e n c e d by Gauguin, and who o r g a n i z e d i n Copen- hagen an e x h i b i t i o n o f Gauguin's own p a i n t i n g s and o t h e r F r e n c h p a i n t i n g s from h i s c o l l e c t i o n ) had c o n s i d e r e d the - 94 - colour-scheme o f Cezanne's Montagues, L'Estague (V.490, d a t e d by V e n t u r i 1886-90, but r i g h t f u l l y a s c r i b e d by Merete B o d e l s e n t o t h e p e r i o d 1882-1883) " e x a c t l y l i k e t h a t o f an Image d ' E p i - • n a l . T h e c o n n e c t i o n w i t h d e c o r a t i o n was a l s o made by B e r n a r d i n comparing t h e a s p e c t o f t h e T e n t a t i o n w i t h a " v e r y o l d b a s - r e l i e f , " i n which t h e r e i s "no p o s i t i v e shadow," but 12 u n i f o r m v a l u e o f l i g h t . B e r n a r d emphasized t h e c e r e b r a l c h a r a c t e r o f t h i s work, w h i c h a t a : f i r s t s u p e r f i c i a l l o o k c o u l d be c l a s s i f i e d as a " c r o u t e g r o s s i e r e . " B e f o r e . d i s c u s s i n g B e r n a r d ' s a r t i c l e o f 18 91 any f u r t h e r , I want t o p o i n t out t h a t t h i s i s t h e y e a r when he b e g i n s h i s r e - l a t i o n s h i p w i t h P e l a d a n . We know f o r c e r t a i n t h a t B e r n a r d was a l r e a d y a c q u a i n t e d w i t h t h e Sar i n September o f 1891 and t h a t 13 s u b s e q u e n t l y t h e y had l e n g t h y d i s c u s s x o n s . I t i s e v i d e n t when we compare B e r n a r d ' s l e t t e r s w i t h P e l a d a n ' s program f o r R o s e - C r o i x , t h a t t h e p e r s u a s i v e B e r n a r d had an i n f l u e n c e on i t . But when d i d a c t u a l l y B e r n a r d (who became d i s s a t i s f i e d w i t h Gauguin's " l e a d e r s h i p , " and p r o b a b l y sensed t h a t A u r i e r ap- p r e c i a t e d him l e s s t h a n Gauguin, b e f o r e t h e c r i t i c ' s a r t i c l e on "Symbolism; i n P a i n t i n g " was p u b l i s h e d i n March 1891') , t h o u g h t a rapprochement w i t h P e l a d a n w i t h whom, a f t e r a l l , he 14 ^ had a l o t i n common? A l r e a d y i n the 1880s, P e l a d a n a d v o c a t e d a r e v i v a l Of t h e F l o r e n t i n e P r i m i t i v e s . "*""* I n October 1891, a f t e r d i s c u s s i n g w i t h P e l a d a n "the p l a n " f o r R o s e - C r o i x , B e r n a r d wrote t o S c h u f f e n e c k e r about t h e n e c e s s i t y t o f a m i - l i a r i z e each.member o f t h e R o s e - C r o i x w i t h the not so w e l l known 16 I t a l i a n works, such as t h o s e o f G i o t t o o r A n g e l i c o . But a t - 95 - t h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h e y e a r , B e r n a r d a l r e a d y d e s c r i b e d some o f Cezanne's canvases as "of a charming c h i l d i s h n e s s , " w h i c h "awaken t h e p r e c i s e i d e a o f a t a l e n t e d shepherd boy - l i k e 17 G i o t t o - who p l a y s around w i t h c o l o u r s . " Or d e s c r i b i n g one o f Cezanne's p o r t r a i t s o f h i s w i f e ( i d e n t i f i e d by L i n d a N O c h l i n w i t h V.229 o f t h e p e r i o d 1872-1877) - F i g . 5, he s a i d : E s s e n t i a l l y h i e r a t i c and o f a p u r i t y o f t h e l i n e known o n l y t o t h e pure p r i m i t i v e m a s t e r s , t h i s canvas seems t o me l i k e one o f t h e g r e a t e s t a t t e m p t s o f modern a r t i n t h e d i r e c t i o n o f c l a s s i c a l b e a u t y . 18 T h i s i s a g a i n i n tune w i t h P e l a d a n ' s c a l l f o r r e v i v a l o f an a r t o f I t a l i a n i n s p i r a t i o n t h a t emphasized a l i n e a r s t y l e (to 19 r e p l a c e t h e p a i n t e r l y v u l g a r i t i e s o f F r e n c h a r t ) , and w i t h t h e R o s e - C r o i x campaign f o r an a r t a t t h e same time C h r i s t i a n , m y s t i c a l , i d e a l i s t , o f L a t i n t r a d i t i o n and non-academic. The o n l y l a n d s c a p e t o be a c c e p t e d by t h e R o s e - C r o i x S a l o n was t o 2 0 be t h a t i n t h e manner o f P o u s s i n . B e r n a r d d e s c r i b e d Cezanne's "works i n t h e l a t e s t manner" i n terms o f " a r c h i t e c t u r a l solem- n i t y " and " o r d i n a n c e o f l i n e s " and d e c l a r e d : The l a s t manner i s s c a r c e l y more t h a n a r e t u r n t o t h e f i r s t , b u t by way o f t h e n a s c e n t c o l o u r t h e o r i e s and some v e r y p e r s o n a l and unexpected i n s i g h t s i n t o s t y l e . 21 The " c l a s s i c a l " l a n d s c a p e s i n t h e manner o f P o u s s i n , " a r c h i - t e c t u r a l ," f e a t u r i n g " S t y l e , " were t h e ones c o n s i d e r e d a t the time as " d e c o r a t i v e , " as i n d i c a t e d above. They r e p r e s e n t e d an e l e v a t e d k i n d o f " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake," c o m p a t i b l e w i t h i d e a l i s m . I n August 1891 B e r n a r d would w r i t e t o S c h u f f e n e c k e r : . . . l e paysage d e c o r a t i f me semble l e s e u l p o s s i b l e . . . Je ne. c o n c o i s pas une p e i n t u r e q u i s o i t a u t r e chose q u ' e l l e - meme, c ' e s t a d i r e de l a d e c o r a t i o n p u r e . 22 - 96 - Thus f o r B e r n a r d , t h e " d e c o r a t i v e l a n d s c a p e " was " p a i n t i n g f o r i t s own sake" (or "pure p a i n t i n g " i n t h e i d e a l i s t sense, b u t I r e s e r v e t h i s term f o r t h e m a t e r i a l i s t i c c o n n o t a t i o n , s i n c e i t . 2 3 was commonly used as such) and a t the same time " d e c o r a t i o n . " I n f a c t , f o r him t h i s " p a i n t i n g f o r i t s own sake" i s e q u i v a l - e n t w i t h "pure d e c o r a t i o n . " A few months b e f o r e he had d e s c r i b e d Cezanne and h i s a r t t h u s : S t y l e . Tone. - A p a i n t e r above a l l - a l t h o u g h he i s a t h i n k e r and a s e r i o u s one - he opens f o r a r t t h a t s u r - p r i s i n g door: p a i n t i n g f o r i t s own sake.24 Cezanne was a t t h e time B e r n a r d ' s "Master" and t h i s i s r e f l e c t - ed i n h i s p a i n t i n g s , such as t h e " d e c o r a t i v e l a n d s c a p e " 25 Pont-Aven vu du B o i s d'Amour o f 1892 - F i g . 6. The c r i t i c who most c l e a r l y a s s o c i a t e d Cezanne w i t h t h e 2 6 new d e c o r a t i v e tendency was Georges Lecomte, i n 1892. But w h i l e B e r n a r d t r i e d t o d e t a c h Cezanne from I m p r e s s i o n i s m , Lecomte d i d j u s t t h e o p p o s i t e , p r e s e n t i n g him t o g e t h e r w i t h P i s s a r r o as t h e i n i t i a t o r s , o f t h i s tendency. Lecomte's c o n c e p t o f " d e c o r a t i v e " i n p a i n t i n g , as was i n d i c a t e d i n the p r e v i o u s c h a p t e r , t o o k i n t o account t h e new r e q u i r e m e n t s o f " s y n t h e s i s , " " c o m p o s i t i o n , " emphasis on l i n e , b u t d i d not e x t e n d t o a c c e p t - 27 i n g t h e c h a r a c t e r o f " d e c o r a t i o n . " I n h i s l e c t u r e t o Les XX, d i s c u s s e d b e f o r e , Lecomte d e c l a r e d : C ' e s t s u r t o u t M. Cezanne q u i f u t 1'une des p r e m i e r s a n n o n c i a t e u r s . des tendances n o u v e l l s e t dont l ' e f f o r t e x e r g a une i n f l u e n c e n o t a b l e s u r 1 ' e v o l u t i o n i m p r e s s i o n - n i s t e : son m e t i e r s o b r e , ses s y n t h e s e s e t ses s i m p l i f i c a - t i o n s de c o u l e u r s s i s u r p r e n a n t e a une epoque ou 1'on e t a i t p a r t i c u l i e r e m e n t e p r i s de r e a l i t e e t d ' a n a l y s e , ses v a l e u r s t r e s r a p p r o c h e e s , t r e s douces, dont l e j e u s a v a n t c r e e de s i s u b f i l e s e t i m p e c c a b l e s harmonies, c o n t i e n n e n t e t r e v e l e n t t o u t l e mouvement c o n t e m p o r a i n ; e l l e s f u r e n t pour t o u s un p r o f i t a b l e e n s e i g n e m e n t . 2 ^ - 97 - E a r l i e r i n t h e t e x t Lecomte had d e s c r i b e d t h e way t h e Impres- s i o n i s t s had "detached t h e m s e l v e s from r e a l i t y " i n o r d e r t o a c h i e v e a " d e c o r a t i v e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n " : Peu a peu, i l s s 1 a b s t r a y e n t de l a r e a l i t e . l i s s'en i n s p i r e n t t o u j o u r s s c r u p u l e u s e m e n t , mais s u r l e s donees e x a c t e s q u ' i l s en r e c u e i l l e n t , i l s e d i f i e n t des c o m p o s i t i o n s b e l l e s t o u t a l a f o i s p a r l e c a r a c t e r e e t p a r l a d e c o r a - t i o n : i l s assemblent des l i g n e s , r e g l e n t des g e s t i c u l a t i o n s , a c c o r d e n t l a d i r e c t i o n des mpuvements du s o l avec c e l l e des a t t i t u d e s de l ' e t r e humain qui s'y a g i t e ; i l s composent, l o i n de l a n a t u r e , pour r e a l i s e r une harmonie t o t a l e , v E n meme temps que l e d e s s i n d e v i e n t p l u s l a r g e , p l u s sommaire e t p l u s c a r a c t e r i s t i q u e , l a c o u l e u r t e n d a se s i m p l i f i e r . Le r e l a t i f du t r a i t e t du t o n d i s p a r a i t . Le p e i n t r e q u i , l e p r e m i e r , avec M. Cezanne, s'emancipa d'une t r o p s t r i c t e communion a v e c : l a n a t u r e , n o t r e m a i t r e e t n o t r e ami, M. C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o . . . 29 Lecomte was w e l l aware t h a t t h e " i d e i s t s " c l a i m e d d e s c e n t from Cezanne, and d i d n o t even t r y t o deny t h a t t h e r e was a b a s i s f o r t h i s . But he c l a i m e d t h e y l o o k e d a t t h e wrong p i c t u r e s o f Cezanne, t h e " i n c o m p l e t e " ones, w h i c h t h e p a i n t e r h i m s e l f c o n 1 s i d e r e d as " i n f e r i o r , " n o t a t the. ones w h i c h are b e a u t i f u l i n t h e i r " l o g i c a l o r d i n a n c e " and "harmony o f t o n e s . " 3 0 As I a l - ready mentioned, Lecomte a c c u s e d t h e S y m b o l i s t s - S y n t h e t i s t s o f d i s t o r t i o n , and o f d e p a r t u r e s from t h e c o n c e p t o f t a b l e a u , e s p e c i a l l y s i n c e i n t h e i r p i c t u r e s e v e r y p o i n t seems t o l i e i n 31 t h e same p l a n e . I t i s p a r t i c u l a r l y on account o f t h i s f l a t - n e s s t h a t Lecomte r e f u t e s t h e i r c l a i m s , o f d e s c e n t from Cezanne. Cezanne, a c c o r d i n g t o Lecomte, "most o f t e n " r e s p e c t e d t h e s u c - c e s s i o n o f p l a n e s i n p e r s p e c t i v e , and a t m o s p h e r i c p e r s p e c t i v e , even though he a d m i t t e d Cezanne's " v a l u e s " were t o o c l o s e t o 32 each o t h e r (a f a c t w h i c h o f c o u r s e , r e s u l t e d i n f l a t n e s s ) . < Lecomte c o u l d not a b i d e t o see Cezanne, t h e comrade o f P i s s a r r o - 98 - and o f the o t h e r I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , used t o " l e g i t i m i z e " an a r t w i t h m y s t i c a l , C a t h o l i c t e n d e n c i e s . T h e r e f o r e he c o n c l u d e d h i s d i s c u s s i o n o f Cezanne by s a y i n g : I I f a u t que l a r e p u t a t i o n de M.; Cezanne s o i t s o l i d e - ment a s s i s e pour r e s i s t e r a de s i m a l e n c o n t r e u s e s g l o r i - f i c a t i o n s . Ce que nous devons r e t e n i r de son a r t s i n c e r e , s i s i m p l i f i c a t e u r , c ' e s t l a synthese de l i g n e s e t de t o n s en vue de 1 ' o r n e m e n t a t i o n , son r e s p e c t des v a l e u r s , son d e s s i n c a r a c t e r i s t i q u e . 33 Thus Lecomte c o n s i d e r e d t h a t Cezanne's s y n t h e s i s o f l i n e s and t o n e s " were t h e r e s u l t o f h i s i n t e n t i o n s t o p a i n t d e c o r a t i v e p i c t u r e s ("en vue de 1 ' o r n e m e n t a t i o n " ) . But he a l s o c o n s i d e r e d h i s p i c t u r e s t h a t c o n t a i n e d d i s t o r t i o n s s i m i l a r t o t h o s e t o be found i n t h e S y m b o l i s t p a i n t i n g s as " i n c o m p l e t e , " s i n c e t h e y d i d not have t h e degree o f r e a l i s t i c r e p r e s e n t a t i o n , based on p e r c e p t i o n , he s t i l l e x p e c t e d i n an e a s e l p a i n t i n g . S i m i l a r v i e w s were e x p r e s s e d by Lecomte's f r i e n d , Gustave 34 G e f f r o y . He a l s o b e l i e v e d i n a compromise between r e a l i s m . . . 35 and i d e a l i s m i n a r t . G e f f r o y c o u l d not a c c e p t i n p a i n t i n g , even i n p a i n t i n g d e s t i n e d t o s e r v e as d e c o r a t i o n , t h e l a c k o f d e p t h , a t - mosphere, m o d e l l i n g . The " d e c o r a t i v e sense," a c c o r d i n g t o G e f f r o y i s m a n i f e s t e d by a " c e r t a i n rythm o f t h e l i n e s " and 3 6 i n a "harmony o f atmosphere." The a t h e i s t G e f f r o y , l i k e t h e a n t i - C a t h o l i c Lecomte, would not a l l o w any h i e r a t i s m i n p a i n t - i n g , the v e r y t h i n g B e r n a r d thought he saw i n Cezanne and p r a i s e d . I n .his a r t i c l e " P a u l Cezanne" i n La V i e a r t i s t i q u e o f 1894, G e f f r o y a d m i t t e d : - 99 - Ceizanne has become a k i n d o f p r e c u r s o r t o whom t h e s y m b o l i s t s have r e f e r r e d and. i t i s q u i t e c e r t a i n , t o s t i c k t o t h e f a c t s , t h a t t h e r e i s a d i r e c t r e l a t i o n , a . c l e a r l y e s t a b l i s h e d c o n t i n u i t y , between t h e p a i n t i n g o f Cezanne and t h a t o f Gauguin, E m i l e B e r n a r d , e t c . And l i k e w i s e , w i t h the a r t o f V i n c e n t Van Gogh. 38 L i k e Lecomte, G e f f r o y f i n d s Cezanne " f r e q u e n t l y i n c o m p l e t e " q u o t i n g s i m i l a r f a u l t s : There are absences o f atmosphere, o f t h e f l u i d i t y t h r o u g h w h i c h t h e p l a n e s must be s e p a r a t e d and t h e f a r t h e s t depths be p l a c e d a t . t h e i r p r o p e r d i s t a n c e . The forms become awk- ward a t t i m e s , t h e o b j e c t s a r e b l e n d e d t o g e t h e r , t h e p r o - p o r t i o n s are n o t always e s t a b l i s h e d w i t h s u f f i c i e n t r i g o r . These a r e " f a u l t s " o f an i n v o l u n t a r y n a t u r e a c c o r d i n g t o G e f f r o y , who compared C e z a n n e 1 s e f f o r t s w i t h "the t o u c h i n g e f f o r t s o f t h e p r i m i t i v e s " ( w i t h o u t i m p l y i n g o f c o u r s e , t h a t t h e p a i n t e r wanted t o i m i t a t e the p r i m i t i v e s ) . He meant t h a t the. p a i n t e r wanted t o be more r e a l i s t i c , b u t "he has been u n a b l e t o conquer t h e 40 d i f f i c u l t y " o f r e a l i z a t i o n . G e f f r o y who never h i n t s t h a t most f e a t u r e s he c r i t i c i s e d (which a f t e r a l l are i n accordance w i t h t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n ) might be i n t e n t i o n a l , i s r e l i e v e d to. a s s u r e t h e r e a d e r s t h a t "these remarks cannot be made b e f o r e each canvas o f Cezanne." He mentioned t h a t t h e r e a r e p a i n t i n g s i n w h i c h "he e r e c t s w i t h a l i m p i d atmosphere, h i s dear h i l l o f S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e , " or r e p r e s e n t s a "weighty i n l e t o f t h e s e a l i n a r o c k y bay where t h e l a n d s c a p e i s c r u s h e d 41 beneath an atmosphere o f h e a t . " In such p a i n t i n g s , The a r b i t r a r y d i s t r i b u t i o n of l i g h t and shade w h i c h might o t h e r w i s e be s u r p r i s i n g i s no l o n g e r n o t i c e a b l e . One i s i n t h e presence o f a u n i f i e d p a i n t i n g w h i c h seems a l l o f a p i e c e and w h i c h i s e x e c u t e d over a l o n g p e r i o d o f t i m e , i n t h i n l a y e r s , w h i c h has ended up by becoming compact, dense, v e l v e t y . . . H i s p a i n t i n g t h e n t a k e s on t h e muted beauty o f t a p e s t r y , a r r a y s i t s e l f i n a s t r o n g , harmonious w e f t . Or e l s e , . a s i n the B a t h e r s , c o a g u l a t e d and l u m i n o u s , i t assumes t h e a s p e c t o f a p i e c e o f r i c h l y d e c o r a t e d f a i e n c e . 42 - 100 - Here we e n c o u n t e r f o r t h e f i r s t time (and as we s h a l l see i t w i l l n o t be t h e l a s t ) t h e comparison between Cezanne's canvases and t a p e s t r i e s . The " a r b i t r a r y d i s t r i b u t i o n of l i g h t and shade" w h i c h somehow b o t h e r s G e f f r o y i n a p a i n t i n g was recommended i n t a p e s t r y i n o r d e r t o a c h i e v e a u n i t y o f e f f e c t by o v e r a l l u n i - 43 f o r m i t y o f v a l u e . What i s a c t u a l l y p r a i s e d by G e f f r o y i s t h e t e x t u r e o f t a p e s t r y (such as i n some l a n d s c a p e s - see f o r example Rocks a t L'Estaque - F i g . 12, V4 04, 1882-1885) o r t h e a s p e c t s o f c e r a m i c s ( i n B a t h e r s ) , t h a t i s t h e m a t i e r e o f t h e 44 p a i n t i n g . Cezanne's f r u i t s i n h i s s t i l l - l i f e s were a l s o com- 45 p a r e d w i t h C h e r e t ' s c e r a m i c s by Huysmans. G e f f r o y p r a i s e d Cezanne's "famous a p p l e s , " b u t was b o t h e r e d by t h e f a c t t h a t I i n h i s s t i l l - l i f e s "the backgrounds sometimes come f o r w a r d " ; t h a t i s he o b j e c t e d p r e c i s e l y t o one o f t h e d e v i c e s recommended f o r d e c o r a t i o n , i n o r d e r n o t t o " p i e r c e t h e w a l l " w i t h t h r e e - d i m e n s i o n a l i l l u s i o n i s m . ^ On t h e o c c a s i o n o f Cezanne's e x h i b i t i o n o f 1895 a t V o l l a r d ' s G a l l e r y , G e f f r o y a g a i n s t r e s s e d t h e d e c o r a t i v e q u a l i t y o f h i s p a i n t i n g s : Les t a b l e u x de f l e u r s et. de f r u i t s donnent l a meme preuve de l a f a c u l t e d e c o r a t i v e de Cezanne. Toute l a gamme des t o n s , t o u t l ' a c c o r d d e l i c i e u x des. v a l e u r s . . . 47 D e s c r i b i n g Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s o f b a t h e r s (male and female) i n t h e e x h i b i t i o n , G e f f r o y remarked on t h e i r s t y l i z a t i o n : "by t h e s o r c e r y o f a . d e l i b e r a t e and s t y l i z e d a r t " t h e y gave t h e im- 48 p r e s s i o n o f . " a r r a n g e m e n t s i n an i d e a l p a r k . " He d i d i m p l y t h a t t h e • B a t h e r s had q u a l i t i e s o f grandes o e u v r e s , such as t h o s e o f t h e g r e a t d e c o r a t i v e works by Veronese, Rubens and D e l a c r o i x , - 101 - f o r w h i c h Cezanne had a l r e a d y p r o v e d h i s "comprehensive ad- m i r a t i o n " i n e a r l i e r works such as the " l a r g e p a n e l " The Orgy, 49 a l s o i n t h e e x h i b i t i o n . G e f f r o y sensed t h a t Cezanne had t h e a p t i t u d e , t o be a g r a n d - s c a l e d e c o r a t o r , and somewhat p a r a p h r a s - i n g A u r i e r ' s lament on a s i m i l a r t o p i c when he r e f e r r e d t o Gauguin, s a i d : A n'en pas d o u t e r , par ces t o i l e s . . . 11 a f f i r m e q u ' i l a u r a i t pu e n t r e p r e n d r e e t r e l i s e r de grandes o e u v r e s , f a i r e • f l e u r i r l e s m u r a i l l e s comme des j a r d i n s l u m i n e u x . Le s o r t ne l ' a pas f o u l u . . . R e g r e t t o n s q u ' i l n ' a i t pas dote son pays e t son temps de 1'oeuvre g r a n d i o s e q u i e t a i t en l u i . 50 But w h i l e A u r i e r p r e f e r r e d the g r e a t d e c o r a t i o n s o f the p a s t t h a t had a h i e r a t i c s t y l e , G e f f r o y p r e f e r r e d t h e most n a t u r a l i s - t i c , p o s t - R e n a i s s a n c e ones. In f a c t h i s a t t i t u d e toward p a i n t - ed d e c o r a t i o n s r e p r e s e n t s a s t e p backwards from t h e p o i n t o f v i e w o f p r e s e r v i n g t h e f l a t n e s s . o f t h e w a l l t o be d e c o r a t e d , 51 even i n comparison w i t h C h a r l e s B l a n c . G e f f r o y was n o t an a v a n t - g a r d e c r i t i c . H i s t a s t e was r a t h e r c o n s e r v a t i v e , p r o b - a b l y because he thought a more n a t u r a l i s t i c s t y l e would s e r v e b e t t e r the s o c i a l r o l e o f a r t . H i s f a v o r i t e a r t i s t s were 52 R a f f a e l l i and C a r r i e r e . I n t h e 1894 a r t i c l e on Cezanne G e f f r o y had been c r i t i c a l o f t h e absence o f atmosphere and d e p t h , o f background t h a t came forward.,. In: t h e r e v i e w o f t h e V o l l a r d e x h i b i t i o n he c a u t i o n e d the p r o s p e c t i v e v i s i t o r : . Vous q u i l i r e z ces l i g n e s e t q u i i r e z p e u t - e t r e e n s u i t e c h e r c h e r c e t t e beaute e t c e t t e g r a c e que j ' a f f i r m e , ne vous a r r e t e z pas a t e l l e g a u c h e r i e , a tel•manque de p e r s - p e c t i v e , d ' e q u i l i b r e , a t e l s p e c t i n a c h e v e . 53 The e p i t h e t s " u n f i n i s h e d " and " i n c o m p l e t e " used by G e f f r o y (or Lecomte) were u n a c c e p t a b l e t o a n o t h e r r e v i e w e r o f the - 102 - V o l l a r d e x h i b i t i o n o f 1895, Thadee Natanson, the c h i e f e d i t o r and c o f o u n d e r o f t h e Revue B l a n c h e , p a t r o n and d e f e n d e r o f t h e 54 N a b i s . These words d i d n o t have any meaning f o r Natanson, who d i d n o t t r y t o prove t h a t Cezanne was a v e r i d i q u e , b u t one who was not q u i t e a c c o m p l i s h e d i n t h i s r o l e , as G e f f r o y d i d . Natanson speaks from an " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" p o s i t i o n , and as 55 B e r n a r d b e f o r e him (1891 ) a p p r e c i a t e s Cezanne's " p a i n t i n g f o r i t s own sake," t h a t w h i c h i s " o n l y p a i n t i n g . " r ^ E x c e p t , as opposed t o B e r n a r d , as I a l r e a d y mentioned i n t h e l a s t c h a p t e r , Natanson f a v o r s t h e m a t e r i a l i s t i c "pure p a i n t i n g . " The f a c t t h a t "the o b j e c t s a r e b l e n d e d t o g e t h e r " does n o t 57 b o t h e r Natanson a t a l l , as i t b o t h e r e d G e f f r o y ; j u s t t h e o p p o s i t e , f o r him i t has t h e advantage o f e m p h a s i z i n g t h e f o r m a l elements and t h e d e c o r a t i v e q u a l i t i e s o f t h e p a i n t i n g : La f r a n c h i s e e t c e t t e q u a l i t e s i s o l i d e m e n t e t a b l i e des formes comme e q u a r r i e s , nuages q u i s ' e n r o u l e n t s u r l e c i e l b l e u , t o i t s des maisons, f e u i l l a g e s , c e r n u r e s des f r u i t s a c c e n t u a n t l e s ronds ou l e s a n g l e s , muscles s e r t i s , c a s s u r e s des l i g n e s , ornements des e t o f f e s , d r a p e r i e s r a i d e s , f a i t qu'aucun o b j e t r e p r e s e n t s n'a p l u s qu'une v a l e u r de b r o d e r i e , de f e s t o n ou d'arabesque dans 1'email q u ' a p p a r a i t c e t t e p e i n t u r e . 58 Natanson emphasized t h a t o n l y a s m a l l number o f p e o p l e , an e l i t e , c o u l d a p p r e c i a t e such pure p a i n t i n g , "the e n a m e l - l i k e q u a l i t y o f the m a t i e r e , t h e r o l e o f arabesques w h i c h he a s s i g n s t o 59 forms," e t c . T h i s "pure p a i n t i n g " p r a i s e d by Natanson w e l - comes i n t o t h e f i e l d o f e a s e l p a i n t i n g an i n v a s i o n o f c h a r a c t e r - i s t i c s o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s : t h e emphasis on shapes f o r t h e i r own sake, i n , p a r t i c u l a r on t h e arabesque, on pure c o l o u r s , on t h e t e x t u r a l q u a l i t i e s o f t h e m a t i e r e , c o u p l e d w i t h a n o n c h a l a n t - 103 - d i s r e g a r d f o r t h e s u b j e c t - m a t t e r . The purpose o f t h i s a r t i s t o p l e a s e t h e s e n s e s , b u t o f c o u r s e n o t t h e senses o f a v u l g a r crowd. L i k e B e r n a r d i n 1891, Natanson compared Cezanne's p a i n t i n g w i t h p o p u l a r images: ... ce s u r p r e n a n t vase b l a n c a ornements b l e u s dont l e gerbe f l e u r i e e s t s i j o l i m e n t ouyragee e t qu'on d i t c o p i e e d'une image p o p u l a i r e - . . . Natanson a d m i t t e d w i t h o u t r e s e r v e Cezanne' i n f l u e n c e on t h e younger p a i n t e r s , "who perhaps have never seen him" ( p r o b a b l y r e f e r r i n g t o t h e N a b i s ) , and not o n l y on "those who have been a s s o c i a t e d w i t h him" ( p r o b a b l y r e f e r r i n g t o G a u g u i n ) . The c r i t i c c o n s i d e r e d t h a t Cezanne a l o n e among h i s " i l l u s t r i o u s contem- p o r a r i e s " had "the g l o r y o f h a v i n g t r a i n e d p u p i l s and formed 61 a s c h o o l , i n the b e s t and most p r o f o u n d sense o f t h e s e words." The f o l l o w i n g y e a r (1896) t h e c r i t i c Andree M e l l e r i o (to whom M a u r i c e Denis r e f e r r e d t o as "an e x c e l l e n t c r i t i c " and whom he r e p r e s e n t e d i n h i s Hommage a Cezanne - F i g . 7) a l s o s t a t e d t h a t Cezanne, who as w e l l as V i n c e n t van Gogh was n o t v e r y w e l l known by t h e g e n e r a l p u b l i c (as P u v i s , Moreau, Redon and Gauguin w e r e ) , 6 2 was "much honored by t h e young g e n e r a t i o n . " M e l l e r i o r e f e r r e d t o t h e young p r o t a g o n i s t s o f t h e " I d e a l i s t Movement" i n p a i n t i n g and o f t h e t r e n d toward d e c o r a t i o n . Even though he quoted e x t e n s i v e l y from A u r i e r ' s a r t i c l e on Symbolism i n p a i n t i n g , 6 3 M e l l e r i o ' s i d e a l i s m was n o t n e o - P l a t o n i c i n n a t u r e . By " i d e a l i s m " i n p a i n t i n g he meant a " c e r e b r a l , " " c o n c e p t u a l " t r a n s f o r m a t i o n o f N a t u r e . Such a c o n c e p t u a l t r a n s f o r m a t i o n o f Nature was Cezanne's "own v i s i o n " w h i c h l e a d t o a " s y n t h e s i s o f c o l o u r s and forms i n t h e i r i n t r i n s i c b e a u t y " : - 104 - . . . i l p r e s e n t e l a n a t u r e d'apres une v i s i o n a l u i p r o p r e , ou l a j u x t a p o s i t i o n des t e i n t e s , un c e r t a i n agencement des l i g n e s ; f o n t de s a p e i n t u r e s i f r a n c h e comme une s y n t h e s e des c o u l e u r s e t des formes en l e u r beaute i n t r i n s e q u e . On b o t h Cezanne and Van Gogh, M e l l e r i o made t h e comment: Tous deux eminemment p e i n t r e s dans 1 " a c c e p t i o n du mot,: c ' e s t - a - d i r e consid§rant l e s p e c t a c l e q u i l e s e n t o u r e sous l e presque unique p o i n t de vue du j e u des c o u l e u r s e t des l i g n e s - a r r i v a n t a i n s i a d ' e t r a n g e s e t imprevus e f f e t s . M e l l e r i o t h e n , j u s t as Natanson, emphasized Cezanne's " p a i n t i n g f o r p a i n t i n g ' s sake," w h i c h was equated w i t h a d e c o r a t i v e aim: t o r e v e a l t h e i n t r i n s i c beauty o f c o l o u r and l i n e s . By t h e time M e l l e r i o wrote h i s book, Symbolism, as I i n d i c a t e d i n t h e p r e v i o u s c h a p t e r , was i n d e c l i n e . I n f a c t he d i d not c a l l any o f t h e avant-garde young p a i n t e r s " S y m b o l i s t s , " and h i s v i e w s on t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p between A r t and Nature a r e q u i t e i n a c c o r d w i t h t h o s e h e l d by Denis i n 1 8 9 5 . ^ A l s o l i k e D e n i s , he t r a d e d Gauguin f o r Cezanne as M a s t e r and " i n i t i a t o r " „ 67 o f t h e " S y n t h e t i s t s . I n 189 9 Cezanne e x h i b i t e d f o r t y p a i n t i n g s a t G a l e r i e V o l l a r d . L i k e Natanson,the a r t c r i t i c f o r La Revue B l a n c h e , F e l i c i e n Fagus, u n d e r l i n e d Cezanne's c o n c e r n w i t h pure p a i n t i n g and m a t i e r e : C e l u i - l a , c ' e s t l e p e i n t r e ; 1'amoureux de l a c o u l e u r pour l a c o u l e u r - a h l l a p a t e , l a p a t e qu'on p e t r i t comme une c h a i r ... Que c ' e s t bonI Comme on s e n t c e t homme-la b i e n h e u r e u x d'etendre l a b e l l e m a t i e r e s u r l a t o i l e ; 6 8 ,• Fagus compared Cezanne w i t h t h e " g r e a t V e n e t i a n d e c o r a t o r s . " S p e a k i n g o f Repas au b o r d de l a mer, Fagus e x c l a i m e d : Quel repas I v e s t i g e c h a r n e l , t r i o m p h a l j e u de d e c o r a t i o n p e r s p e c t i v e e t flamboiement i n o u i d ' e t o f f e s e t de n u d i t e s , c e t t e t o i l e e x i g u e d i s t e n d l a v a s t i t u d e e n s p l e i l l e e des grands d e c o r a t e u r s v e n i t i e n s ; - 105 - Only t h e p r e v i o u s year. V u i l l a r d had remarked on s i m i l a r i t i e s be- tween Cezanne and Veronese, and he a c t u a l l y t o l d Denis, t h a t 70 Cezanne speaks o f Verones w i t h t h e g r e a t e s t a d m i r a t i o n . The same e x h i b i t i o n a t V o l l a r d . i n 1899 prompted an a r t i c l e by Georges Lecomte i n t h e Revue d ' A r t . I t was n o t r e a l l y a r e v i e w ft- o f t h i s e x h i b i t i o n ; 'rather Lecomte r e p e a t e d most o f what he had t o say i n 1892. Of c o u r s e , he d i d n o t f o r g e t t o mention t h a t he was among t h e f i r s t t o w r i t e f a v o r a b l y on Cezanne, now t h a t "the work o f Cezanne i s n o t o r i o u s " and much i n demand w i t h c o l - l e c t o r s . T h i s time he emphasized^ even more s t r o n g l y t h a n i n 1892 t h a t he found Cezanne uneven and c l a i m e d t h a t none o f h i s g a u c h e r i e s was v o l u n t a r y . He was e s p e c i a l l y b o t h e r e d by t h e p a i n t e r ' s i n a b i l i t y t o r e n d e r d e p t h , by t h e f l a t n e s s o f h i s 71 p a i n t i n g s . He blamed t h e s e f a u l t s on Cezanne's i n a b i l i t y " t o r e n d e r e v e r y t h i n g he p e r c e i v e s . " I t was because o f t h i s l a c k o f "means" h i s p a i n t i n g s gave t h e i m p r e s s i o n o f "sumptuous t a p e s t r i e s t h a t l a c k d i s t a n c e . " Lecomte d i d n o t v o l u n t e e r t h e h y p o t h e s i s t h a t maybe Cezanne wanted h i s p a i n t i n g s t o l o o k l i k e t a p e s t r y , o r t o f o l l o w the g e n e r a l r u l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n . The o b v i o u s r e a s o n he was n o t d o i n g t h i s was t h a t he wanted t o demonstrate t h a t t h e s c h o o l o f " m y s t i c a l Symbolism" was based on Cezanne's f a u l t s , t h e most s e r i o u s one b e i n g , a c c o r d i n g t o Lecomte, "the l a c k o f depth."72 As i f t o s p i t e Lecomte, D e n i s ' l a r g e p a i n t i n g Hommage a Cezanne - F i g . 7 - o f 1900 hung a t t h e S a l o n o f t h e S o c i e t e N a t i o n a l e des Beaux A r t s i n 1901, and a l s o , a t La L i b r e 73 E s t h e t x q u e i n B r u s s e l s i n t h e same y e a r . The p a i n t i n g grouped around C j e X a h n e 's.Still L i f e w i t h - 106 - Compotier (V.341, w h i c h Gauguin owned and a l s o r e p r e s e n t e d i n one o f h i s p a i n t i n g s , t h e p o r t r a i t o f M a r i e D e r r i e h o f 1890) - F i g . 8 - most o f t h e N a b i s : V u i l l a r d , D e n i s , S e r u s i e r , Ranson, R o u s s e l , Bonnard, as w e l l as O d i l o n Redon, M e l l e r i o , V o l l a r d ( i n whose g a l l e r y t h e group i s assembled) and D e n i s 1 w i f e Marthe. Cezanne h i m s e l f , whom Denis had n o t met y e t , d i d n o t appear i n t h e p i c t u r e . He was touched by t h i s homage, and wrote t o Denis a few l i n e s t o e x p r e s s h i s "warmest g r a t i t u d e , " w h i c h he asked , Denis " t o pass on t o t h e a r t i s t s who have j o i n e d w i t h you on 74 t h i s occasion*.." As we have seen i n s e c t i o n "D" o f the l a s t c h a p t e r , Denis had never mentioned Cezanne b e f o r e 1895 when he p r e f e r r e d t o speak o f " s y n t h e t i s m " r a t h e r t h a n "Symbolism," o f an a r t r o o t e d i n N a t u r e , " w i t h o u t m e t a p h y s i c s . " But s i n c e t h e n he had spoken o f Cezanne as o f the " i n i t i a t o r " o f t h e "movement o f 1890." He c o n t i n u e d t o do so even a f t e r h i s f u l l c o n v e r s i o n t o " c l a s s i c i s m " (which a f t e r a l l was a l s o an a r t based on Nature) i n 1898, when he wanted t o b u i l d a b r i d g e between t h e p i c t o r i a l Symbolism (or r a t h e r . "Synthetism") and 75 c l a s s i c i s m . Soon Denis was t o d e c l a r e t h a t S y n t h e t i s m was a r a t i o n a l and t r a d i t i o n a l t h e o r y , t h a t s u r v i v e d l i t e r a r y Symbolism w h i c h was always " s u s p e c t " t o t h e p a i n t e r s , b e i n g t o o m e t a p h y s i c a l . ^ L i k e D e n i s , E m i l e B e r n a r d t u r n e d t o c l a s s i c i s m and t r a d i t i o n , and f o r s i m i l a r r e a s o n s ( r e a c t i o n a r y i d e o l o g y , b e s t s e r v e d by t h i s t r e n d , i n the new h i s t o r i c a l c o n d i t i o n s ) . Bernard's evo- l u t i o n i n t h i s , d i r e c t i o n had begun a l r e a d y i n 1891, a t t h e time 77 o f h i s a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h P e l a d a n . A f t e r a l o n g absence from F r a n c e ( d u r i n g w h i c h he v i s i t e d I t a l y , and l i v e d i n C a i r o ) , - 107 - B e r n a r d r e t u r n e d i n 1904. I n 1905 he founded the e x t r e m e l y r e - a c t i o n a r y r e v u e La R e n o v a t i o n E s t h e t i q u e ( w i t h s i m i l a r aims as L ' O c c i d e n t ) , w h i c h would l i v e on u n t i l 1910. E a r l y i n 19 04 E m i l e B e r n a r d v i s i t e d Cezanne i n A i x and w r o t e an a r t i c l e about t h e p a i n t e r i n L ' O c c i d e n t . N e e d l e s s t o say, t h i s a r t i c l e , even though i t was meant t o r e f l e c t Cezanne's own o p i n i o n s , has t h e i m p r i n t o f B e r n a r d ' s b e l i e f s and p e c u l i a r t h e o r e t i c a l s p e c u l a t i o n s . I t r e f l e c t s t h e changes i n Bernard's o u t l o o k w h i c h had o c c u r r e d between 1891 (when he had w r i t t e n h i s p r e v i o u s a r t i c l e on Cezanne) and 1904. B e r n a r d ' s " c l a s s i c i s m " i s n o t t o be t a k e n i n t h e o r t h o d o x , o r narrow sense, t h a t i s i n o p p o s i t i o n w i t h Romanticism and i t s a n c e s t o r s , b u t i n t h e sense 7 8 o f " t r a d i t i o n . " T h i s t r a d i t i o n however e x c l u d e d "academism" (such as I n g r e s ) . H i s M a s t e r s a r e now not t h e P r i m i t i v e s , b u t M i c h e l a n g e l o , V i n c i , R a p h a e l , G i o g i o n e , T i t i a n , T i n t o r e t t o , as w e l l as D e l a c r o i x . He s t i l l b e l i e v e s i n a " d e c o r a t i v e c o n c e p t i o n " , w h i c h f o r him i s e q u i v a l e n t w i t h "pure A r t " o r " p a i n t i n g f o r i t s own sake" (not t o be confounded w i t h t h e m a t e r i a l i s t i c "pure p a i n t i n g " o f t h e 1890s). Only he accommodates now i n t h i s d e f i n i t i o n R e n a i s s a n c e and p o s t - R e n a i s s a n c e i l l u s i o n i s t i c a r t , w h i c h was a c t u a l l y not " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" o r " d e c o r a t i v e " , b u t " l i t e r a r y " p a i n t i n g , some o f i t e x p r e s s i n g p o w e r f u l e m o t i o n s . Thus t h i s "pure A r t " has t o be u n d e r s t o o d more i n t h e sense o f C h a r l e s B l a n c ' s dichotomy, as " A r t " v e r s u s N a t u r a l i s m (which 79 d i s r e g a r d s a p r e e s t a b l i s h e d c o n c e p t o f b e a u t y ) . B e r n a r d ' s " d e c o r a t i v e c o n c e p t i o n " i m p l i e s "freedom" and " e x a l t a t i o n " now, n o t a " h i e r a t i c " s t y l e . As opposed t o Denis ( e v e n t u a l l y i t seems he persuaded even Denis t o change h i s mind) B e r n a r d does - 1 0 8 n o t a p p r e c i a t e I n g r e s and h i s emphasis on l i n e a r , " c o n t o u r " and r i g i d academic r u l e s , w h i c h would i n t e r f e r e w i t h h i s s t a n d a r d s o f "freedom:" Thus i t i s h a r d t o b e l i e v e t h a t Cezanne i s t h e a u t h o r o f t h e f o l l o w i n g c l a s s i f i c a t i o n , as B e r n a r d c l a i m e d i n h i s a r t i c l e : P a u l Cezanne c o n s i d e r e q u ' i l e s t deux p l a s t i q u e s , l'une s c u l p t u r a l e ou l i n e a i r e , 1'autre d e c o r a t i v e ou c o l o r i s t e . Ce q u ' i l nomme l a p l a s t i q u e s c u l p t u r a l e s e r a i t amplement s i g n i f i e p a r l e type de l a Venus de M i l o . Ce-£l;u'il nomme p l a s t i q u e d e c o r a t i v e se r a t t a c h e a M i c h e l - A n g e , a Rubens. L'une de ces p l a s t i q u e s , s e r v i l e , 1 ' a u t r e , l i b r e ; l ' u n e dans l a q u e l l e l e • c o n t o u r l ' e m p o r t e , 1'autre dans l a q u e l l e dom Ihe - l a s a i l l i e , l a c o u l e u r e t l a fougue. I n g r e s e s t de l a p r e m i e r e , D e l a c r o i x e s t de l a s e c o n d e d " T h i s c l a s s i f i c a t i o n l o o k s s u p e r f i c i a l l y l i k e t h e s t a n d a r d academic c l a s s i f i c a t i o n , t o be found i n B l a n c ' s books f o r example, be- tween t h e F l o r e n t i n e and Roman S c h o o l on one hand (to w h i c h M i c h e l a n g e l o b e l o n g e d and t o w h i c h B l a n c a t t a c h e d D a v i d and I n g r e s ) and t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " V e n e t i a n S c h o o l on t h e o t h e r ( r e p r e s e n t e d by Veronese and R u b e n s - " t h i s V e n e t i a n o f t h e N o r t h " - 81 and t o w h i c h D e l a c r o i x was a t t a c h e d ) . That Cezanne c o n s i d e r e d Veronese and Rubens as "the g r e a t d e c o r a t i v e Masters" we know 8 2 from h i s l e t t e r s . But a d i s t i n c t i o n between a " d e c o r a t i v e " p l a s t i c a r t t h a t i n c l u d e d M i c h e l a n g e l o , and a " s c u l p t u r a l o r l i n e a r " one t h a t d i d n o t , c o u l d have been c o n c e i v e d o n l y by B e r n a r d . B e r n a r d says about Cezanne: "His c o n c l u s i o n , i n a c c o r d a n c e w i t h h i s m e r i d i o n a l and e x p a n s i v e n a t u r e i s d e c o r a t i v e ; 8 3 t h a t i s , f r e e and e x a l t e d . " A c c o r d i n g t o B e r n a r d , as i s e v i d e n t from o t h e r o f h i s w r i t i n g s , c l a s s i c a l a r t i s "the f r e e s t a r t " because i t t a k e s from n a t u r e o n l y i t s laws,and c r e a t e s w i t h t h e a i d o f t h e s e laws i n a manner s i m i l a r t o t h e C r e a t o r ' s , - 109 - "who obeys n o t m a t t e r , b u t t h e s p i r i t , t h a t i s t o say h i s own 84 t h o u g h t . " The a r t i s t comes t o know t h e s e laws, o f n a t u r e from t h e o r y and by c o u n t l e s s s t u d i e s from n a t u r e , but a c c o r d i n g t o B e r n a r d , when he e x e c u t e s h i s d e f i n i t i v e work does not p a i n t i n f r o n t o f n a t u r e o r i n f r o n t o f a model. Such a freedom a c q u i r e d from t h e knowledge o f t h e "laws" o f c r e a t i o n was m a n i f e s t e d f o r 8 5 example i n M i c h e l a n g e l o (Bernard's i d o l ) . And B e r n a r d de- s c r i b e d M i c h e l a n g e l o ' s method: on one hand t h e c o n s t a n t s t u d y o f r e a l i t y , on t h e o t h e r "the freedom, the s y n t h e s i s , t h e im- 8 6 p o s i n g grandeur." I n 1904 he d e s c r i b e d Cezanne's method s i m i l a r l y , i n two s t e p s : f i r s t t h e d i s c o v e r y o f t h e "laws o f 8 7 n a t u r e " by s t u d i e s , t h a n a l o g i c a l s y n t h e s i s . Or, i n a n o t h e r v a r i a n t , he d e s c r i b e d Cezanne's w o r k i n g method as such: T e l l e e s t sa methode de t r a v a i l : d'abord une s o u m i s s i o n complete au modele; avec s o i n , 1 ' e t a b l i s s e m e n t de l a mise en p l a c e , l a r e c h e r c h e des g a l b e s , l e s r e l a t i o n s de p r o p o r t i o n s ; p u i s , a t r e s m e d i t a t i v e s s e a n c e s , 1 ' e x a l t a t i o n des s e n s a t i o n s c o l o r a n t e s , 1 ' e l e v a t i o n de l a forme v e r s une c o n c e p t i o n d e c o r a t i v e ; de l a c o u l e u r v e r s l e p l u s c h a n t a n t d i a p a s o n . A i n s i p l u s 1 ' a r t i s t e t r a v a i l l e , p l u s son ouvrage s ' e l o i g n e de l ' o b j e c t i f , p l u s i l se d i s t a n c e de l ' o p a c i t e du modele l u i s e r v a n t de p o i n t de d e p a r t , p l u s 11 e n t r e dans l a p e i n t u r e nue, sans a u t r e b u t qu'elle-meme; p l u s i l a b s t r a i t son t a b l e a u , p l u s i l s i m p l i f i e avec ampleur, a c r e s 1 ' a v o i r e n f a n t e e t r o i t , conforme, h e s i t a n t . Thus, as i n t h e a r t i c l e w r i t t e n i n 1891, B e r n a r d a g a i n emphasized Cezanne's " p a i n t i n g f o r i t s own sake ." Even though, as w i l l be- come c l e a r l a t e r , B e r n a r d d i d n o t approve o f t h e m a t e r i a l i s t i c c o n c e p t o f "pure p a i n t i n g , " h e had t o admit t h a t Cezanne's oeuvre was admired,; because,::among o t h e r t h i n g s , o f t h e "beauty 89 o f i t s m a t i e r e . " B e r n a r d i n s i s t e d on t h e e s s e n t i a l d i f f e r e n c e s between Cezanne and I m p r e s s i o n i s m , m a i n l y on r e f l e c t i o n r e p l a c i n g - 110 - s p o n t a n e i t y , and achievement o f new d e c o r a t i v e s y n t h e s e s , n o t 90 f o r g e t t i n g t o m e n t i o n t h a t he " d e r i v e s " from I m p r e s s i o n i s m . T h i s d e s c r i p t i o n does n o t d i f f e r r e a l l y from L e c o m t e 1 s f o r example, and as a m a t t e r o f f a c t t h e l a t t e r had a p p l i e d i t n o t o n l y t o Cezanne, b u t t o P i s s a r r o and o t h e r o l d I m p r e s s i o n i s t s 91 as w e l l , i n 1892. B e r n a r d ' s own i d e a on t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p between n a t u r e and a r t became such t h a t he c o n s i d e r e d as " n a t u r a l i s m " any a e s t h e t i c based on e x p r e s s i n g " v i s i b l e t h i n g s " u s i n g a model i n s t e a d o f w o r k i n g from memory (he meant e s p e c i a l l y 92 memory o f o l d a r t ) and b y p a s s i n g " i n v e n t i o n . " I n a l e t t e r t o h i s mother w r i t t e n a t t h e t i m e o f h i s m e e t i n g w i t h Cezanne, B e r n a r d w r o t e t h a t t h e p a i n t e r " p r o f e s s e s t h e t h e o r i e s o f n a t u r a l i s m and I m p r e s s i o n i s m " and t h a t he "speaks o n l y o f p a i n t i n g n a t u r e a c c o r d i n g t o h i s p e r s o n a l i t y and n o t a c c o r d i n g 93 t o a r t i t s e l f . " Yet i n t h e p u b l i s h e d a r t i c l e B e r n a r d d e c l a r e d t h a t Cezanne was w r o n g l y c l a s s i f i e d i n t h e " d e p l o r a b l e s c h o o l i n a u g u r a t e d by M. Z o l a , " because he had a " m y s t i c a l temperament" and had a " p u r e l y a b s t r a c t and a e s t h e t i c v i s i o n o f t h i n g s . " B e r n a r d added: La ou d ' a u t r e s se p r e o c c u p e n t , pour se t r a d u i r e , de c r e e r un s u j e t , l u i se c o n t e n t e de quelques harmonies de l i g n e s e t de t o n a l i t i e s p r i s e s s u r des o b j e t s quelqohques, sans se s o u c i e r de ces o b j e t s en eux-memes; ...CSzanne e s t un m y s t i q u e p r e c i s e m e n t p a r ce d e d a i n de t o u t s u j e t , p a r 1'absence de v i s i o n m a t e r i e l l e , p a r un gout qu'avouent ses paysages, ses n a t u r e s m o r t e s , ses p o r t r a i t s , l e p l u s n o b l e e t l e p l u s h a u t : , .1-94 • *" l e s t y l e . T h i s was n o t t h e l a s t t i m e B e r n a r d ' s o p i n i o n s on Cezanne v a r i e d a c c o r d i n g t o t h e a u d i e n c e f o r w h i c h t h e y were i n t e n d e d , as we s h a l l see. I n t h i s a r t i c l e B e r n a r d t r i e d t o b u i l d an image o f Cezanne - I l l - as " c l a s s i c i s t . " I t i s here t h a t we e n c o u n t e r f o r t h e f i r s t t i m e , a s coming from Cezanne, t h e s e n t e n c e : "One must become a g a i n c l a s s i c a l by t h e way o f n a t u r e , " b u t w i t h no mention o f P o u s s i n (who was n o t on the l i s t o f B e r n a r d ' s f a v o r i t e s , b u t on 95 D e n i s ' ) . The N e o - c l a s s i c i s t s were a g a i n s t " f l a t n e s s " i n d e c o r a t i o n , as w e l l as i n e a s e l p a i n t i n g , e s p e c i a l l y e m p h a s i z i n g t h e t h r e e d i m e n s i o n a l m o d e l l i n g o f forms, t h e "volumes." T h i s e x p l a i n s why B e r n a r d s w i t c h e d t h e meaning o f Cezanne's l e c t u r e on "the c y l i n d e r , t h e s p h e r e , t h e cone" from a l e s s o n i n p e r - s p e c t i v e , t o one on m o d e l l i n g , and gave as one o f the " o p i n i o n s o f P a u l Cezanne," t h i s : Tout dans l a n a t u r e se modele s e l o n l a s p h e r e , l e cone e t l e c y l i n d r e . I I f a u t s'apprendre a p e i n d r e s u r ces f i g u r e s s i m p l e s , on p o u r r a e n s u i t e f a i r e t o u t de qu'on v o u d r a . But B e r n a r d was a g a i n s t l i n e a r m o d e l l i n g , he was a g a i n s t l i n e a r c o n t o u r s , s i n c e t h e y i n t e r f e r e d , as we have seen, w i t h h i s c o n c e p t o f "freedom" and reminded him o f t h e academicism o f I n g r e s . He was a l s o a g a i n s t any k i n d o f l i n e a r " s t y l i z a t i o n , " 97 and a l s o c r i t i c i s e d Symbolism f o r t h a t r e a s o n . That " l i n e does n o t e x i s t " i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s was a l o n g l a s t i n g myth i n t h e h i s t o r y o f a r t , s t a r t e d by B e r n a r d who a p p a r e n t l y f o r g o t 98 t h a t he once admired h i s " p u r i t y o f l i n e . " When B e r n a r d says " l i n e does n o t e x i s t , " and "Drawing and c o l o u r a r e n o t s e p a r a t e a t a l l ; one draws as one p a i n t s ; " he a l m o s t seems t o quote from Gauguin's Notes S y n t h e t i q u e s ( w r i t t e n around 1885), b e f o r e B e r n a r d h i m s e l f i n d u c e d him i n t o u s i n g t h e " l i n e " ) t h a n from Cezanne, i n 99 whose p a i n t i n g s l i n e s , c e r t a i n l y do e x i s t . That i s , l i n e s e x i s t e x a c t l y i n t h o s e p a i n t i n g s i n w h i c h volumes a r e a l s o - 112 - emphasized, and w h i c h i n t e r e s t e d B e r n a r d . I t so happens t h a t i n 1904, when he v i s i t e d Cezanne, the o l d e r p a i n t e r was c l o s e r t o I m p r e s s i o n i s m than he had been i n more t h a n twenty y e a r s , and he was p r o d u c i n g what i n my o p i n i o n can be c o n s i d e r e d h i s b e s t examples o f "pure p a i n t i n g 1 , " h i s l a t e s t s e r i e s o f S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e canvases.''"^ I n such p a i n t i n g s Cezanne d i d not emphasize o u t l i n e s , nor volumes, b u t r a t h e r t h e c o l o u r e d " p a t c h " ( l a tache) . I t seems t h a t a t the time Cezanne c o u l d have been outspoken a g a i n s t d a r k , emphasized o u t l i n e s ( l i n e f e l l i n d i s g r a c e among o t h e r p a i n t e r s t h a t used t o r e l y h e a v i l y on i t , such as V u i l l a r d o r Bonnard), because t h i s i s e v i d e n t i n h i s l e t t e r o f 23 O c t o b e r , 102 1905 t o B e r n a r d . But i n the p a i n t i n g s B e r n a r d admired most, i n w h i c h volumes were c l e a r l y d e f i n e d , the s o l i d shapes were m o d e l l e d b o t h by l i n e a r c o n t o u r s ( o u t l i n e d u s u a l l y i n P r u s s i a n b l u e , not c o n t i n u o u s , but o f a " l o s t - a n d - f o u n d " type) and by c o n t r a s t s between f a i r l y l a r g e a r e a s o f d i f f e r e n t t o n a l i t y , as w e l l as by " c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s " (but t h i s o n l y as a r e f i n e m e n t ) . The concept o f " m o d u l a t i o n " i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g was here i n - t r o d u c e d f o r t h e f i r s t time by B e r n a r d , who c l a i m e d i t was a s u b s t i t u t e f o r " m o d e l l i n g . " Thus B e r n a r d c o u l d say Cezanne "modulated" t h e shapes w h i l e m o d u l a t i n g the c o l o u r , w i t h o u t any h e l p from l i n e s . W h i l e t h i s might be t r u e f o r shapes t h a t d i d n o t have much r e l i e f , such as f o l i a g e o r s l i g h t a c c i d e n t s i n t h e t e r r a i n , i t does not h o l d f o r t h e " c y l i n d e r , " the "sphere," o r the "cone." That Cezanne m o d e l l e d i n c o l o u r and not i n terms o f b l a c k and w h i t e ( c h i a r o s c u r o ) i s not a n o v e l t y , a l l Im- 103 p r e s s i o n i s t s d i d i t , a l l " c o l o r i s t s . " But I doubt v e r y much - 113 - i f Cezanne s a i d "One s h o u l d n o t say t o model, one s h o u l d say t o modulate," u n l e s s he r e f e r r e d t o t h e " m o d e l l i n g o f t h e t a b l e a 104 n o t o f i n d i v i d u a l o b j e c t s i n p a i n t i n g . The term " m o d u l a t i o n " was used by C h a r l e s B l a n c , i n c o n n e c t i o n w i t h D e l a c r o i x and O r i e n t a l t i s s u e s and c e r a m i c s , and i t r e f e r s t o making a f l a t 105 and s e e m i n g l y u n i f o r m l y c o l o r e d s u r f a c e " v i b r a t e . " Cezanne might have been used t h e term, s i n c e he c e r t a i n l y used the p r o - c e d u r e , o r B e r n a r d might have remembered i t from Gauguin o r from 106 h i s own r e a d i n g s . But i t i s n o t c o r r e c t t o s u b s t i t u t e i t f o r m o d e l l i n g i n g e n e r a l . Toward t h e end o f t h e y e a r (1904) a n o t h e r a r t i c l e was p u b l i s h e d i n L'.Occident, i n w h i c h Cezanne o c c u p i e d a c e n t r a l p l a c e . I t was w r i t t e n by C a r l o s de C a s t e r a (a f r i e n d o f M a u r i c e Denis) who s i g n e d i t " S o l r a c " (which i s " C a r l o s " s p e l l e d back- wards) , on t h e o c c a s i o n o f t h e F a l l S a l o n ( S a l o n DIAutomne) 10 7 -- - — • where Cezanne had a whole room. De C a s t e r a made an i n - t e r e s t i n g comparison between P u v i s de Chavannes and Cezanne, from t h e p o i n t o f v i e w o f t h e i r " d e c o r a t i v e c o n c e p t i o n . " He compared P u v i s ' l a r g e - s c a l e d e c o r a t i o n s w i t h Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s and p o i n t e d o u t t h a t i n b o t h c a s e s t h e r e was c o n c e r n f o r t h e p r e s e r v a t i o n o f t h e p l a n a r s u r f a c e . Of c o u r s e , Puvisj^' de- c o r a t i o n s had a p r e c i s e d e s t i n a t i o n , and t h e r e f o r e had t o be i n harmony w i t h t h e s u r r o u n d i n g s : L'un p e i n t en vue d'une s a l l e , d'un e d i f i c e ; l a c o m p o s i t i o n d e c o r a t i v e s'harmonise avec l e m i l i e u a i n s i que l e s c o u l e u r s q u i f o n t c o r p s avec l e mur ou l e p l a f o n d , l e c o n t i n u e sans faire.'trou'!;!)autre- ment d i t , P u v i s s i t u e s a peinture; x® 8 ' ' Cezanne d i d not p a i n t w i t h a p r e c i s e d e s t i n a t i o n i n mind, b u t h i s p a i n t i n g f u l f i l l e d t h e same b a s i c d e c o r a t i o n r e q u i r e m e n t o f - 114 - n o t making a " h o l e " i n the w a l l . " S o l r a c " w r o t e : - 1 ' a u t r e , Cezanne, au c o n t r a i r e , l o c a l i s e s a c o n c e p t i o n t o u t e n t i e r e dans l a l i m i t e de l a t o i l e , n'en depasse pas l e r e c t a n g l e ; e l l e o b t i e n t son maximum d - ' e f f e t d e c o r a t i f en vue du c a d r e q u i l a renferme. E l l e ne derange pas non p l u s l e p l a n du t a b l e a u . Ce n ' e s t pas que Cezanne ne p e r g o i v e l e s t r o i s d i m e n s i o n s des o b j e t s dans l a n a t u r e mais s a t o i l e n'en possede que deux; conforme avec l a l o g i q u e de son i d e a l d e c o r a t i f , i l ne f a i t pas usage des " v a l e u r s " p o u r en c r e v e r l a s u r f a c e p l a n e t f a i r e f u i r un f o n d ; sa v i s i o n e s t s i m p l e comme c e l l e des p r e m i e r s i m a g i e r s e t chaque o b j e t r e s t e dans l e p l a n du t a b l e a u , t e l l e une d e c o r a t i o n de P u v i s r e s t e dans l e p l a n du mur; l e s o b j e t s du t a b l e a u ne p r e n n e n t une s i g n f i c a t i o n que p a r 1 ' e x a l t a t i o n de l a p e i n t u r e nue sans a u t r e b u t qu'elle-meme. ^9 " S o l r a c " added t h a t b e f o r e a c h i e v i n g t h i s phase o f pure p a i n t i n g , Cezanne spends "numerous m e d i t a t i v e seances i n f r o n t o f n a t u r e , a n e c e s s a r y c r u t c h f o r h i s c o l o r e d t r a n s p o s i t i o n s , f o r t h e r i g h t - f u l n e s s o f t h e l o c a l tone and t h i s l a r g e synthesis."''""'"^ T h i s i n f o r m a t i o n he acknowledged he g o t from B e r n a r d ' s a r t i c l e o f t h e same y e a r i n L ' O c c i d e n t . " S o l r a c " d e s c r i b e d t h r e e o f Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s i n t h e e x h i b i t i o n ; the s t i l l - l i f e he mentioned can be i d e n t i f i e d w i t h t h e one Denis r e p r e s e n t e d ( S y m b o l i z i n g Cezanne) i n h i s Hommage au Cezanne ( F i g . 7 ) , t h a t i s V.341. C a l l i n g i t a "pure m a s t e r p i e c e , " he emphasized a g a i n t h a t i t s q u a l i t y i s w h o l l y d e t e r m i n e d by i t b e i n g a pure p a i n t i n g , w i t h o u t any c o n c e r n f o r t h e s u b j e c t m a t t e r : T e l l e une m a r q u e t e r i e q u i n ' a u r a i t pas de sens on peut l a r e g a r d e r independamment du s u j e t , debout, i n c l i n e e , . couchee e t l e s t a c h e s de bas en h a u t , de -, , , d r o i t e a gauche, s ' e q u i l i b r e n t , se c o n t r e - b a l a n c e n t . " S o l r a c " p o i n t e d o u t t h a t Cezanne a c h i e v e d a harmony w i t h i n h i s c a n v a s , t h a t i s i n t h e m i l i e u o f t h e p a i n t i n g i t s e l f . T h i s was t o be d i s t i n g u i s h e d from P u v i s ' h a r m o n i z i n g h i s d e c o r a t i v e c o m p o s i t i o n w i t h t h e m i l i e u f o r w h i c h i t i s d e s t i n e d t o be a p a r t . - 115 - We are dealing here with the emancipation of "pure painting," with a painting that while being .decorative and based on the same p r i n c i p l e s as a mural decoration, s t r i v e s toward " i n - dependence," s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y , since i t i s not dependent on a 112 p a r t i c u l a r destination. After a l l that struggle f o r de- coration to catch up i n a status with painting, painting found a way to get ahead again*. In a characterization that reminds one of Geffroy's (minus the reserves about h i s gaucheries), Solrac declared that Cezanne "does not approach nature with a program," and added: Pas de formule dans son oeuvre qui repond simplement a un i d e a l decoratif portant l'empreinte de sa grand p e r s o n n a l i t e . 1 ± 3 The c r i t i c then proceeds to discuss Cezanne's influence on the young generation and characterizes i t as "a s p i r i t u a l t i e , rather than a d i r e c t influence." He refers to Maurice Denis (described as "the most complete," knowing how to blend "freshness" and "modernity" with a "sane t r a d i t i o n , " and having an "insatiable decorative imagination" that brings every year "the most d e l i c i o u s surprises"), V u i l l a r d , Roussel, and Bonnard. "Solrac" considered that a l l these painters who yesterday were i s o l a t e d i n d i v i d u a l i s t s , today form a "family," united by the recognition of nature as t h e i r only c o u n s e l l o r 4 Roger Marx's review of the same F a l l Salon of 1904 included a discussion of Cezanne and the reproduction of one of h i s paintings, L'Aqueduc (V.477, 1885-87). The review was published i n the Gazette des Beaux-Arts of which he was the editor. Marx, as i t was mentioned already, was an "enlightened amateur" and 115 supporter of the decorative a r t s . He was an early supporter - 116 - o f the Nabis. and o f E m i l e Bernard.. He s u p p o r t e d t h e r e t u r n t o " f a i t h " e v i d e n t i n S y m b o l i s t a r t , and defended the young a v a n t - garde i n 1895 d e c l a r i n g t h a t n e i t h e r t h e N a b i s , nor t h e p u p i l s o f Gustave Moreau h a t e d n a t u r e , t h e y were s i m p l y a g a i n s t a 116 p h o t o g r a p h i c image o f i t . Now, i n 1904, as i s e v i d e n t from 117 t h i s a r t i c l e , he i s a s u p p o r t e r o f F r e n c h n a t i o n a l i s m . He i s i n s i s t e n t on p o i n t i n g out t h e l i n k s w i t h t h e p a s t (the F r e n c h past'.) m a i n t a i n e d i n modern a r t p r o d u c t i o n . I n f a c t t h i s i s why t h e S a l o n d.'Automne had s p e c i a l rooms ( r e t r o s p e c t i v e e x h i b i t i o n s ) f o r P u v i s , Redon, Cezanne, R e n o i r and T o u l o u s e - L a u t r e c . As Marx p u t s i t , t h e new g e n e r a t i o n o f " i n v e n t o r s " and " r e v o l u t i o n a r i e s " does n o t b e l i e v e i n " g e n e r a t i o n spontanee," t h a t i s b e l i e v e s i n 118 i t s e v o l u t i o n , i n i t s descendence from " M a s t e r s . " Marx e s t a b l i s h e d Cezanne's genealogy as a p a i n t e r , q u o t i n g o n l y F r e n c h " a n c e s t o r s " : t h e F r e n c h P r i m i t i v e s , P o u s s i n , C o r o t , C o u r b e t , Daumier. I would l i k e t o p o i n t o u t t h a t t h i s i s t h e f i r s t t i m e 119 Cezanne was c o n n e c t e d w i t h P o u s s i n . Thus Marx l i n k e d Cezanne w i t h t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " t r a d i t i o n o f P o u s s i n and C o r o t , as w e l l as w i t h Courbet and Daumier, who were a p p r e c i a t e d then f o r 120 t h e i r "pure p a i n t i n g " q u a l i t i e s (such as p a t e and brushwork). I n l i n k i n g him w i t h Daumier, t h e c r i t i c r e f e r r e d t o Cezanne's nude b a t h e r s '('academies) and t h e d e l i b e r a t e e x a g g e r a t i o n o f t h e 121 c o n t o u r s i n 'search o f c h a r a c t e r . ! ' T h i s c o n t r a d i c t e d B e r n a r d ' s d e n i a l o f c o n t o u r s . A l s o , u n l i k e B e r n a r d o f 1904, Marx em- p h a s i z e d t h e f l a t c o l o u r ( a - p T a t s ) i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s , i n - d i c a t i n g he was n o t i n t e r e s t e d i n " d e c o m p o s i t i o n o f t o n e " as t h e - I m p r e s s i o n i s t s were. There a r e i n d e e d f a i r l y l a r g e a r e a s o f " f l a t " c o l o u r i n Cezanne's p r o d u c t i o n o f t h e 1890s and e a r l y - 117 - 1900s, w i t h t h e e x c e p t i o n o f most o f t h e l a n d s c a p e s . Marx con- c l u d e d h i s d i s c u s s i o n on Cezanne by p o i n t i n g o u t Cezanne's i n - f l u e n c e on t h e m a t e r i a l i s t i c "pure p a i n t i n g , " as w e l l as on t h e group o f p a i n t e r s ( e x - p u p i l s o f Moreau) such as Mar que t',. M a t i s s e , Camoin, who combined t h e method o f a p p l y i n g l a r g e touches o f 122 f l a t c o l o u r w i t h a tendency toward " S t y l e . " I n t h e end he d e c l a r e d t h a t "the r e v o l u t i o n a r y r e a l i z e d t h e oeuvre o f a c l a s s i c " and a t t h e same t i m e he " f o r c e f u l l y b r o u g h t back t h e 123 l o v e f o r t h e b e a u t i f u l m a t i e r e . " Cezanne thanked Marx i n a l e t t e r i n w h i c h he f l a t t e r e d t h e "amator" i n Marx by d e c l a r i n g he w i l l "always be g r a t e f u l t o t h e p u b l i c o f i n t e l l i g e n t amateurs who... .have i n t u i t i v e l y u n d e r s t o o d what I wanted t o t r y i n o r d e r 124 t o renew my a r t . " I n May 1905 Denis p u b l i s h e d i n L'Ermitage t h e a r t i c l e "La r e a c t i o n n a t i o n a l i s t e , " d e d i c a t e d t o h i s f r i e n d A d r i e n M i t h o u a r d , "who had t h e b o l d n e s s t o found L ' O c c i d e n t d u r i n g t h e f u l l - 125 f l e d g e d D r e y f u s i s t c r i s i s . " He mentioned t h a t a f t e r t h e p r e v i o u s S a l o n d'automne Cezanne was " u n i v e r s a l l y admired" and t h a t " o n l y he who i s b o r n out o f t h e i n f l u e n c e o f t h e s e two m a s t e r s ( h e r e f e r r e d t o P u v i s de Chavannes and Gustave Moreau) 126 and o u t o f t h e 'barbary' o f Cezanne w i l l s u r v i v e . " I n March 1905, r e v i e w i n g t h e e x h i b i t i o n o f Ch. G u e r i n (whose p a i n t i n g he c l a s s i f i e d as "pure p a i n t i n g ' 9 >' Denis w r o t e i n L ' O c c i d e n t : Meme son etude d'apres n a t u r e ne comporte r i e n de p l u s qu'une s u r f a c e p l a n e r e c o u v e r t e de c o u l e u r s en un c e r t a i n o r d r e a s s e m b l i e s , s e l o n 1'exemplc de Cezanne; e t c ' e s t Cezanne q u ' i l e s t r e d e v a b l e , comme t o u s l e s modernes, de l a c o n c e p t i o n v r a i m e n t ' p e i n t r e ' du t a b l e a u . 1 2 7 - 118 - D e n i s r e f e r r e d here t o t h e d e f i n i t i o n he gave p a i n t i n g i n 1980, 128 and w h i c h he p r e v i o u s l y c l a i m e d he l e a r n e d from Gauguin. Now he h e l d Cezanne r e s p o n s i b l e f o r t h i s c o n c e p t , w h i c h meant e s - s e n t i a l l y t h e t r a n s f o r m a t i o n o f t a b l e a u i n t o f l a t d e c o r a t i o n . The c r i t i c f o r A r t e t D e c o r a t i o n , F r a n c o i s Monod, i n h i s r e v i e w o f the S a l o n d'Automne o f 1905 was e x t r e m e l y c r i t i c a l o f t h i s i n f l u e n c e o f Cezanne w i t h r e g a r d t o the t r e n d toward "pure p a i n t i n g . " Monod was on t h e s i d e o f N e o - C l a s s i c i s m and a s s o c i a - t e d "pure p a i n t i n g " w i t h "anarchy." He was unhappy t h a t " t h i s group o f c o l o r i s t s , c u r i o u s and new, w h i c h made a r e p u t a t i o n f o r t h e m s e l v e s a t t h e S a l o n des Independents, who d i d show some p r o - mise and who r u i n e d t h e m s e l v e s because t h e y took i m p r o v i s a t i o n and i n c o h e r e n c e as a r u l e , r e f u s i n g t o condescend t o a n y t h i n g t h a t means o r d e r , s e l e c t i o n , d i l i g e n c e w e r e the ones who "con- 129 t i n u e d t o g i v e t h e tone a t the S a l o n d'Automne." Monod p o i n t e d o u t t h a t Cezanne was r e s p o n s i b l e f o r t h i s s t a t e o f a f f a i r s : A son c o r p s d e f e n d a n t , M. Cezanne s u r t o u t e s t r e s p o n s a b l e de c e t t e d i s o r g a n i s a t i o n du m e t i e r parmi quelque-uns des p e i n t r e s q u i se f l a t t e n t ^ 0 d ' a v o i r r e c u i l l i l a . s u c c e s s i o n de 1 ' i m p r e s s i o n n i s m e . One o f t h e s e p a i n t e r s was V u i l l a r d , who a d m i t t e d l y , was "one o f t h e b e s t c o l o r i s t s o f our t i m e . " But Monod t h i n k s t h a t , Meme r e d u i t e a un.pur p a r t i - p r i s de t a c h e s d e c o r a t i v e s , l a p e i n t u r e n'a j a m a i s pu, e l l e ne p o u r r a j a m a i s r e p r e s e n t e r des meubles, des f i g u r e s , une p e r s p e c t i v e ou un assemblage d ' o b j e t s s o l i d e s a l a maniere d'une c o r b e i l l e d'echeveaux. 131 Monod cannot a c c e p t e a s e l p a i n t i n g b e i n g equated w i t h d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , t h a t i s w i t h p a i n t i n g w h i c h i s n o t o n l y d e c o r a t i v e , b u t i s a l s o a " t r u e " d e c o r a t i o n . ' He a d m i t s t h a t V u i l l a r d has t h i s "magic v i s i o n t h a t t r a n s p o s e s the most v u l g a r s p e c t a c l e s i n - 119 - e x q u i s i t e and unexpected a c c o r d s o f t o n e s , " t h a t h i s e x h i b i t e d p a n e l s have the. c o l o r harmony o f t h e most rare, " d e c o r a t i v e t a p e s t r i e s . " B u t V u i l l a r d ' s p a i n t i n g s a l s o had t h e f a u l t t h a t because o f l a c k o f " c o n s t r u c t i o n , o f c l a r i t y , o r f i r m n e s s i n l i n e s and arabesques" t h e y were n o t h i n g b u t "ebauches." A l s o t h e y were l i k e an O r i e n t a l r u g a t w h i c h one l o o k s w i t h o u t t h i n k i n g o f a n y t h i n g : Le monde e x t e r i e u r , t e n t u r e s , m o b i l i e r s , personages, l i g n e s de t e r r a i n s , c i e l s , a r b r e s e t f e u i l l a g e s , l u i a p p a r a i t comme un p l a n d e c o r a t i f ou t o u t e s choses f o u r m i l l e n t e t f l e u r i s s e n t a l a fagon d'un r i c h e t a p i s d ' O r i e n t qu'on r e g a r d e sans penser a r i e n . x 3 2 I n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s Monod found "good p i e c e s o f mosaic": I l y a, dans ses t a b l e a u x , de c i , de l a , de beaux morceaux de mosalque; i l a p e i n t des pommes e t des b i s c u i t s avec une c e r t a i n e r i c h e s s e ou avec une v e r d e u r p e s a n t e de touche e t de t o n ; 1 3 3 But he d e t e s t e d t h e p l a s t e r - l i k e q u a l i t y o f h i s m a t i e r e , and h i s " i n a b i l i t y " t o draw and p a i n t : - M a i s , du r e s t e , q u e l l e h o r r i b l e r u s t i c i t e ' . Q u e l l e m a t i e r e h i d e u s e e t p l a t r e u s e l Q u e l l e p i t o y a b l e , q u e l l e i r r e p a r a b l e i m p u i s s a n c e a manier d e s s i n e t p e i n t u r e ' . x 3 ^ Monod g r u d g i n g l y conceded t h a t one c o u l d d e t e c t some dormant "Grandeur o f c o n s t r u c t i o n " i n Cezanne's l a n d s c a p e s : ...ses paysages o n t c e r t a i n s a c c o r d s drus e t opaques d'outremer, d'emeraude e t de t e r r e rouge, q u i s o n t a f o r c e de c o n t e m p l a t i o n n a i v e , d'y f a i r e p r e s s e n t i r j e ne s a i s q u e l l e grandeur de c o n s t r u c t i o n q u i y someille.135" Monod f a i l e d t o see c o n s t r u c t i v e q u a l i t i e s i n t h e manner o f P o u s s i n i n Cezanne (he a c t u a l l y p r o t e s t e d a g a i n s t h a v i n g Cezanne p l a c e d among P o u s s i n , P u v i s and Watteau i n t h e p r e f a c e o f t h e S a l o n C a t a l o g u e ) , b u t saw r a t h e r a d e c o r a t i v e m o s a i c . I t i s t r u e t h a t w h i l e h i s c l a s s i c i s t a d m i r e r s were comparing him w i t h P o u s s i n , -120 - Cezanne was p a i n t i n g h i s famous s e r i e s o f Mount S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e (such as f o r example V. 79 8-V.802) o r Chateau N o i r ( e s p e c i a l l y V. 795 and V. 797) t h a t even today draws comparisons w i t h woven 136 m a t e r i a l s , such as t a p e s t r y . L o o k i n g a t t h e s q u a r i s h p a t c h e s o f s t r o k e s t h a t c o n s t i t u t e t h e b u i l d i n g b r i c k s o f t h e p a i n t i n g Chateau N o i r now i n t h e Louvre (V. 795), i t i s easy t o see t h e comparison w i t h a m o s a i c . Monod saw i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s m o s t l y t h e " d e c o r a t i v e f l a t n e s s " ( t h a t i s t h e f l a t n e s s o f a c a r p e t o r a mosaic) t h a t today i s imputed t o Gauguin and c o n s i d e r e d t h e main d i s t i n c t i o n between him and Cezanne. On t h e o t h e r hand, i n h i s r e v i e w o f t h e S a l o n d'Automne o f 1905, D e n i s remarked t h a t "...Cezanne p a r a i t quelque v i e u x m a i t r e s e v e r e , au s t y l e c h a t i e , l e P o u s s i n de l a n a t u r e - m o r t e 137 e t du paysage v e r t " . T h i s i s t h e f i r s t t i m e Denis compared 138 C i z a n n e t o P o u s s i n , t h a t i s a y e a r a f t e r Roger Marx. No doubt D e n i s was i n f l u e n c e d i n h i s comparison w i t h P o u s s i n (who was a t t h e t i m e v e r y much i n f a v o r w i t h t h e n a t i o n a l i s t i c c l a s s i c i s t s ) by t h e r e c e n t d e c l a r a t i o n made by C h a r l e s Camoin i n Mercure de F r a n c e , namely t h a t "Cezanne o f t e n says t h a t a l l 139 he wanted was t o v i v i f y P o u s s i n a f t e r n a t u r e . " That D e n i s v e r y c a r e f u l l y r e a d a l l t h e answers t o t h e i n t e r v i e w s o f t h e Enquete p u b l i s h e d by C h a r l e s M o r i c e i n t h e Mercure i s e v i d e n t 140 from t h i s r e v i e w o f t h e S a l o n o f 1905. Among D e n i s ' con- c l u s i o n s was t h e f a c t t h a t " I m p r e s s i o n i s m was f i n i s h e d " ( M o r i c e s p e c i f i c a l l y asked i f t h i s was t h e c a s e ) , and t h a t "Cezanne was v e r y much d i s c u s s e d : i t i s e v i d e n t t h a t he i s t h e s u b j e c t o f c o n v e r s a t i o n s i n a l l s t u d i o s " ( a g a i n M o r i c e asked s p e c i f i c a l l y - 121 - f o r an o p i n i o n on Cezanne). Denis wanted to. demonstrate now t h a t t h e r e e x i s t e d a smooth t r a n s i t i o n from Symbolism t o 141 ' C l a s s i c i s m . . Thus he p r e s e n t e d Gauguin as a " c l a s s i c i s t , " and o f c o u r s e a l s o Cezanne (whose l a n d s c a p e s can be r e l a t e d a f t e r a l l t o t h e P o u s s i n e s q u e c o n c e p t o f t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " l a n d - scape f a v o u r e d by c r i t i c s o f t h e e a r l y 1890s,>), "the i n i t i a t o r o f P a u l Gauguin, 1 1 who Denis p o i n t e d o u t , " i n t u r n became^, i n - 142 f l u e n t i a l " o n l y a f t e r Gauguin. W r i t i n g on A r i s t i d e M a i l l o l ( L ' O c c i d e n t , November 1905) D e n i s f l a t l y d e c l a r e d : . . . i l a p r i s p a r t au mouvement n e o - c l a s s i q u e dont i l f a u t c h e r c h e r 1 ' o r i g i n e r i c e n t e a u t o u r de Cezanne e t de G a u g u i n . x ^ 3 P a u l S e r u s i e r c o n s i d e r e d t h a t t h e i n i t i a t o r s o f t h e " p r e s e n t movement" were n o t o n l y Cezanne and Gauguin, b u t a l s o P i s s a r r o , e x c e p t S e r u s i e r was n o t a " c l a s s i c i s t " i n D e n i s ' sense. He e x p l a i n e d i n M o r i c e ' s Enquete t h a t he f a v o r e d t h e r e s u r r e c t i o n o f " c l a s s i c a l " works i n t h e sense o f b e i n g " v e r y a n c i e n t . " He r e f e r r e d e s p e c i a l l y t o "anonymous" works o f a r t , such as o l d t a p e s t r y , o r Cambodian s c u l p t u r e . S e r u s i e r was n o t a g a i n s t " f l a t n e s s " as t h e N e o - C l a s s i c i s t s were, b u t f o r p a i n t i n g f o r p a i n t i n g ' s sake w h i c h had not o n l y t o "charm t h e eye" b u t a l s o t o "speak t o t h e s p i r i t " " (He n e v e r renounced N e o - P l a t o n i s m , and he became an adept o f t h e Beuron a e s t h e t i c s . ) S e r u s i e r e s p e c i a l l y emphasized Cezanne's r o l e i n t u r n i n g a r t from n a t u r a l i s t i c i m i t a t i o n t o t h i s " d e c o r a t i v e " (but not s i m p l y i n t h e m a t e r i a l i s t i c sense o f "pure, p a i n t i n g " ) a r t f o r a r t ' s sake: Je d o i s t o u t e f o i s r e c o n n a i t r e que Gauguin h ' e s t pas I ' i n i t i a t e u r de mouvement a c t u e l . Ce mouvement, d i r i g g d'abord p a r P i s s a r r o , f u t r e c t i f i e e n s u i t e p a r C i z a n n e , que Gauguin nous r e v g l a . - 122 - Cezanne a su d e p o u i l l e r l ' a r t p i c t u r a l de t o u t e s l e s m o i s i s s u r e s que l e temps y a v a i e n t accumulees. I I a montre c l a i r e m e n t que 1 ' i m i t a t i o n n ' e s t qu'un moyen, que l e but.unique e s t de d i s p o s e r s u r une s u r f ace ..donee l e s l i g n e s e t l e s c o u l e u r s , de f a c o n a charmer l e s yeux, a p a r l e r a 1 ' e s p r i t , a c r i e r , e n f i n , par. des moyens purement. p l a s t i q u e s un l a n g a g e , ou p l u t o t e n c o r e , a r e t r o u v e r l e langage u n i v e r s e l . ...Qu'une t r a d i t i o n ;naisse a n o t r e epoque,- ce que j ' o s e e s p e r e r , - c ' e s t de Cezanne q u ' e l l e n a i t r a . x 4 4 To t h e d i s t r e s s o f h a r d - l i n e c l a s s i c i s t s and t r a d i t i o n a - l i s t s such as B e r n a r d , one o f t h e c o n c l u s i o n s emerging from M o r i c e ' s i n q u i r y , o f 1905. was t h e f a c t t h a t most p a i n t e r s p r e - f e r r e d contemporary masters t o the O l d M a s t e r s . Both La R e n o v a t i o n E s t h e t i q u e (the r e a c t i o n a r y r e v i e w o f B e r n a r d ) , as w e l l as L ' O c c i d e n t c o m p l a i n e d about t h e "anarchy" and " i n c o - herence" r e v e a l e d by M o r i c e ' s Enquete b u t o n l y t h e R e n o v a t i o n complained t h a t "Nobody dared t o go t o M i c h e l a n g e l o o r R a p h a e l . The summits are s c a r y ! " The O c c i d e n t was a c t u a l l y i n t e r e s t e d i n c l a s s i c i s m as a "method," i n a. "modern c l a s s i c i s m . " B e r n a r d was i n c e n s e d t h a t P i e r r e Hepp, the w r i t e r f o r the O c c i d e n t com- p a r e d Cezanne (who o t h e r w i s e was "the r e m a r k a b l e p a i n t e r whom we admire") t o M i c h e l a n g e l o , " t h i s l i g h t h o u s e from which a l l c l a r i t y p r o p a g a t e d f o r t h e l a s t t h r e e c e n t u r i e s on a l l branches 14 5 o f A b s o l u t e A r t . " Eepp e x p l a i n e d .that Raphael and \ M i c h e l a n g e l o were t o o p e r f e c t , d i d not l e a v e much room f o r development and. improvement f o r f o l l o w e r s . He s a i d : Raphael donne t o u t , ce q u i e s t t r o p . . . I I a conjugue e n t i e r e m e n t l e v e r b e . Cezanne n.'en a conjugue que deux ou t r o i s temps a p e i n e . I I nous l a i s s e de l a besogne et.nous propose une d i s c i p l i n e pour l a mener a bonne f i n . Eepp found i t " r e m a r k a b l e " t h a t t h e p a i n t e r s i n t e r v i e w e d by M o r i c e ("most o f them young") "unanimously r e n d e r e d hommage - 123 - t o Cezanne. x'*' . He e x p l a i n e d : "Cezanne i s a M a s t e r , because . he i s a beginning.. He. p r e s c r i b e s a method." And Hepp made t h i s s t a t e m e n t , t h a t as we s h a l l see, enraged B e r n a r d : Pour 1 ' o e i l q u i ne goute p o i n t m a t e r i e l l e m e n t l e s q u a l i t e s d'un t o n , l a p l e n i t u d e d'un a c c o r d , l ' o r - .. donnance d'une s u r f a c e c o l o r e e , en. dehors de t o u t e p r e o c c u p a t i o n o b j e c t i v e , sa pure p e i n t u r e demeure sans a t t r a i t e t f o u r n i t un a l i m e n t i n - a s s i m i l a b l e . E l l e dejoue l e s commentateurs l i t t e r a i r e s e t ne s o l l i c i t e p o i n t l e u r s u f f r a g e , ayant c e l u i des v r a i s p e i n t r e s q u i t r o u v e n t en e l l e l e p o i n t d'appui i n d i s p e n s a b l e pour a l l e r p l u s a v a n t dans l e u r s r e c h e r c h e s . x ^ 8 B e r n a r d r e t o r t e d w i t h t h e a r t i c l e "De M i c h e l Ange a P a u l Cezanne," p u b l i s h e d i n t h e R e n o v a t i o n E s t h e t i q u e under t h e name • F r a n c i s • Lepeseur (one o f the pseudonyms he was u s i n g ) . He was o u t r a g e d t h a t a " t r a d i t i o n a l i s t i c and n a t i o n a l i s t i c revue w h i c h r e s p e c t s i t s e l f and a c c e p t s o n l y a v e r y s m a l l number o f members w i t h pure i n t e n t i o n s " as L ' O c c i d e n t was, gave way, 149 " l i k e the most a n a r c h i s t i c ones," t o the t a s t e f o r paradox. B e r n a r d e s p e c i a l l y o b j e c t e d t o t h e above quote from L ' O c c i d e n t (note 153) w h i c h he r e p r o d u c e d h i m s e l f i n t h e R e n o v a t i o n , c l a i m i n g " i n i t s e n t i r e t y , " b u t o m i t t i n g the i m p o r t a n t word " m a t e r i e l l e m e n t . " A c c o r d i n g t o B e r n a r d , t h i s p r i n c i p l e o f Hepp's e x c l u d e d Raphael o r M i c h e l a n g e l o from "Pure P a i n t i n g , " e q u a t i n g them w i t h " l i t e r a r y g e n i u s e s , " and d i s m i s s i n g t h e S i s t i n e o r V a t i c a n . f r e s c o e s as " o b j e c t i v i t y " because I I ne s ' a g i t p l u s que de p e i n d r e , e t de p e i n d r e n'impor.te q u o i , pourvu que c e l a ne s o i t pas O b j e c t i f , c ' e s t - a - d i r e r e c o n n a i s s a b l e ; i l f a u t que n o t r e s u r f a c e n ' S t a l e p l u s que l a q u a l i t y d'un t o n , l a p l e n i t u d e : d'un a c c o r d , 1'ordonnance c o l o r e e , e t c . , b r e f que ce s o i t de l a pure p e i n t u r e , de l a t e c h n i e , u t i l e seulement a ceux q u i f o n t des r e c h e r c h e s . x 5 0 What b o t h e r e d B e r n a r d r e a l l y was the f a c t t h a t t h i s "pure - 124 - p a i n t i n g " was t o be e n j o y e d on t h e m a t e r i a l , not s p i r i t u a l l e v e l ; i t d i d n o t s t a n d f o r any I d e a . A f t e r a l l , i n 1 8 9 i 1 he was t h e f i r s t t o a c c l a i m t h i s "door" t h a t Cezanne "opened." He had a l s o i m i t a t e d Cezanne q u i t e l i t e r a l l y , y e t now he d e c l a r e d , Quoique r e c o n n a i s a n t en Paul. Cezanne un p e i n t r e de r a r e q u a l i t e , nous ne pouvons c r o i r e a l a p o s s i b i l i t e de son a m p l i f i c a t i o n p a r un a u t r e que lui-meme. L i m i t e a une t e c h n i q u e p a r t i c u l i e r e , rendue e t r o i t e p a r ses precedes c o m p i i q u e s , i n a s s i m i l a b l e a de grand f o r m a t s par s u i t e de son extreme m i n u t i e e t n e g a t r i e e des grands e f f e t s r e c l a m e s par 1 1 oevre d 1 i m a g i n a t i o n , P a u l Cezanne .. n ' e s s u i e r a qu 1 une i m i t a t i o n f a c h e u s e e t m a l a d r o i t e . The same y e a r (June 1905), M. D e n i s a l s o c r i t i c i s e d t h i s con- c e p t o f "pure p a i n t i n g " t h a t aims o n l y f o r t h e " s e n s u a l p l e a s u r e o f t h e eye" and n e g l e c t s the s o u l ; Mais ne c h e r c h e r dans l a p e i n t u r e , comme on t e n d a l e f a i r e de p l u s en p l u s , que l e p l a i s i r s e n s u e l des yeux, ne l a v o u l o i r que d e c o r a t i v e , c ' e s t i g n o r e r l a p a r t que prend 1'ame humaine aux s a t i s f a c t i o n s re&t h e t i q u e s . . . x ^3 He n o t i c e d t h a t a t t h e Independents' e x h i b i t i o n s t h e r e are not many canvases v / i t h a n n e c d o t a l o r l i t e r a r y s u b j e c t s , but " t h e o r e t i c a l and t e c h n i c a l r e s e a r c h i s i n abundance: t h e e f f o r t i n t h e d i r e c t i o n o f pure p a i n t i n g i s c o n s i d e r a b l e and r e m a r k a b l y v a r i e d . " Y e t , Denis asks a r h e t o r i c a l q u e s t i o n , "are t h e r e s u l t s any b e t t e r ? " : E s t - c e a d i r e que l e s r e s u l t a t s s o i e n t m e i l l e u r s ? I I ne s u f f . i t pas de v o u l o i r n ' e t r e que p e i n t r e pour l ' e t r e s u p e r i e u r e m e n t . L'example d'un Cezanne ou d'un V u i l l a r d n ' i n f i r m e pas n o t r e o p i n i o n . Car s ' i l e s t v r a i q u ' l l s ne t i r e n t que des r e s s o u r c e s meme de l e u r a r t l e s moyens par..quoi i l s nous emeuvent). i l f a u t n o t e r q u e l e s t 1'apport de l e u r s e n s i b i l i t e d'hommes; a v e c q u e l l e p a s s i o n i l s s ' e f f o r c e n t de c h e r c h e r aux s p e c t a c l e s de l a n a t u r e des e q u i v a l e n t s e x q u i s ou somptueux; avec q u e l l e f e r v e u r i l s s ' a t t a c h e n t a ne r e n d r e de l a n a t u r e que 1'admirable r e f l e t q u ' i l s en t r o u v e n t en eux-memes.:"^ http://suff.it - 125 - I t i s i m p o r t a n t t o r e c a l l t h a t here Denis a d m i t t e d t h e s i m i l a r i t y o f i n t e n t i o n between Cezanne and V u i l l a r d (who d i d n o t s u b s c r i b e t o D e n i s ' c l a s s i c i s m ) , a l r e a d y n o t i c e d by o t h e r c r i t i c s , as f o r example Monod. In J a n u a r y - F e b r u a r y 1906 Denis and R o u s s e l v i s i t e d . Cezanne i n A i x . T h i s was t h e f i r s t time D e n i s had met Cezanne, and as he would admit y e a r s l a t e r , t h e main r e a s o n f o r t h i s " p i l g r i m a g e was " t o hear from the o l d master's mouth a p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e i d e a s w h i c h I thought I had grounds t o a t t r i b u t e t o him';" And as an excuse he added: T e l e s t Cezanne, complexe e t d i v e r s , que chacum a t t e n d de l u i l a c o n f i r m a t i o n de son p r o p r e systeme; t a n t sa p e i n t u r e e t ses i d e e s demandent a e t r e i n t e r - p r e t e r s .155 Indeed, as i s e v i d e n t from D e n i s ' J o u r n a l , he managed t o e x t r a c t from Cezanne a b o u n d l e s s a d m i r a t i o n f o r t h e 17th c e n t u r y , and s u p p o r t f o r t h e " t h e o r y o f e q u i v a l e n t s . " The e n t r y i n the J o u r n a l r e a d s , as coming from Cezanne: La l u m i e r e n ' e s t pas une chose q u i peut e t r e r e p r o d u i t e , mais q u i d o i t e t r e r e p r e s e n t e e par a u t r e chose, p a r des c o u l e u r s . J ' a i e t e c o n t e n t , de moi l o r s q u e j ' a i t r o u v e c a . Je v o u d r a i s f a i r e des paysages d e c o r a t i f s comme Eugo d ' - A l e s i , o u i , avec ma p e t i t e s e n s i b i l i t e . 1 ' 5 6 _ The f i r s t sentence o f t h i s quote was used time and'-agaih by D e n i s , w i t h s u i t a b l e v a r i a t i o n s . Ee was a b l e t o a f f i r m now t h a t t h e S y m b o l i s t t h e o r y o f c o l o u r " e q u i v a l e n t s , " p r a c t i s e d by Gauguin ( f o r whom "as i n t h e case o f V e n e t i a n s the l i g h t 15 7 became c o l o u r " ) , was i n i t i a t e d by Cezanne. The S a l o n d'Automne o f 1906, i n w h i c h Cezanne was r e - p r e s e n t e d by t e n p a i n t i n g s , had r e t r o s p e c t i v e s o f C a r r i e r e , - 126 - Gauguin and a s m a l l e r one o f C o u r b e t . A c c o r d i n g t o M a u c l a i r , 158 "the a t t r a c t i o n " o f t h i s S a l o n was Gauguin's e x h i b i t i o n . I t seems t h a t t h i s e x h i b i t i o n was i m p o r t a n t i n the p r o c e s s t h a t c r e a t e d a wide gap between Gauguin and Cezanne, s i n c e i t s t i r r e d up p a r t i s a n f i g h t s . T h i s was t h e f i r s t time Gauguin's oeuvre was w e l l r e p r e s e n t e d i n an e x h i b i t i o n , i n good c o n d i t i o n s . There were rumors a t t h e time t h a t an " i n j u r i o u s c u l t " formed 15 9 a g a i n s t Gauguin had a "commercial p r e j u d i c e toward Cezanne." M a u c l a i r was d e f i n i t e l y on the s i d e o f Gauguin. I f t h e r e was any c o n s t a n t i n h i s l i f e , i t was h i s l a c k of u n d e r s t a n d i n g and n e g a t i v e c r i t i c i s m o f Cezanne. I n t h e r e v i e w he wrote f o r A r t and D e c o r a t i o n he had a t f i r s t i n t e n d e d t o c r i t i c i z e him v i o l e n t l y , but when the news o f Cezanne's d e a t h a r r i v e d , 160 he p r e f e r r e d t o be s i l e n t . He d i d mention though t h a t Gauguin s u r p a s s e d Cezanne 'a hundred t i m e s . " Toward t h e end o f t h e n e x t y e a r , C h a r l e s M o r i c e (who was t h e f r i e n d and l o y a l d e f e n d e r o f G a u g u i n ) , p r o t e s t e d a g a i n s t "the g r e a t Q u a r r e l " i n t h e w o r l d o f a r t , t h a t i s Gauguin ver.us Cezanne: ... . - C'est a u t o u r de deux, m a i t r e s recemment r e m i s en honneur, au lendemain de l a mort, que se p r o d u i t , dans l e monde des a r t s , l a grande Q u e r e l l e ... Les i n t r a n s i g e a n t s p a r t i s a n s de Gauguin e t de Cezanne e t l e u r s d e t r a c t e u r s echangent des r e g a r d s i r r i t e s . P l u s i e u r s ont meme e n t r e l e s deux i n i t i a t e u r s f a i t un e h o i x , e t n i e n t l 1 u n , au b e n e f i c e , c r o i e n t - i l s , de 1' a u t r e . . . L a v e r i t e c e r t a i n e , c ' e s t que Gauguin .et Cezanne, f u r e n t deux t r e s grands a r t i s t e s . Le p r e m i e r a r e a l i s e ; " l e second a In^iquiv.•'• Devant l a h a i n e u s e f u r e u r dont l ' a r t o f f i c i o ! l e s p o u r s u i t e n c o r e , i l ne f a u t pas que l e u r s e o n t i n u a t e u r s l e g i t i m e s , l e s a r t i s t e s s i n c e r e s , se d i v i s e n t . 1 ^ M o r i c e s p e c i f i c a l l y complained about M a u r i c e D e n i s , whose development would have been d i f f e r e n t w i t h o u t Gauguin, and - 127 - who was now p a s s i n g on " w i t h an u n g r a t e f u l c o m p l i c i t y t h e more o r l e s s a u t h e n t i c r e c r i m i n a t i o n s o f Cezanne a g a i n s t Gauguin." He r e f e r r e d t o t h e w i d e l y quoted by now, s o - c a l l e d c o m p l a i n t by Cezanne t h a t Gauguin "had t a k e n from him h i s l i t t l e s e n s a - t i o n , h i s l i t t l e s e n s i b i l i t y . " D e n i s heard t h i s from Octave M i r b e a u and r e p e a t e d i t i n h i s a r t i c l e on Cezanne p u b l i s h e d a 163 few months e a r l i e r . A t l e a s t f o r D e n i s , M o r i c e had o t h e r - w i s e h i g h r e g a r d s ; he c o n s i d e r e d him a " t r u e a r t i s t . " T h i s was not t h e case w i t h h i s s e n t i m e n t s toward E m i l e B e r n a r d , who had q u a r r e l l e d w i t h Gauguin back i n 1891, and s i n c e t h e n had been d e n i g r a t i n g him and i n s i s t i n g t h a t he was t h e t r u e i n - 164 v e n t o r o f C l o i s o n i s m . M o r i c e w r o t e : A q u o i bon b r o u i l l e r l e s morts? - e t des morts comme c e u x - c i , que d e v r a i t r e u n i r , dans l e s Champs-Elysees de l a memoire humaine, l a r e c o n n a i s s a n c e des g e n e r a t i o n s ! De t e l propos s o n t de ceux q u ' i l c o n v i e n t de l a i s s e r a M.Emile B e r n a r d , de q u i l e s commerages, l a c r i t i q u e e t l e s oeuvres n'ont aucune i m p o r t a n c e . x ^ 5 In 1907 t h e S a l o n d'automne had a Cezanne r e t r o s p e c t i v e , so i n an i n t e r v a l o f one y e a r b o t h a r t i s t s (Cezanne and Gauguin) had a wide exposure. C h a r l e s M o r i c e , who was the a r t c r i t i c f o r Mercure, had a l s o t a k e n the o p p o r t u n i t y i n November (the S a l o n t o o k p l a c e i n October-November) t o b r i n g Gauguin's and Cezanne's a r t c l o s e r t o one a n o t h e r , d e c l a r i n g t h a t " t h e r e i s n o t h i n g e s s e n t i a l t h a t s e p a r a t e s the c o n c e p t i o n o f Cezanne from t h a t 166 o f Gauguin." He a l s o n o t i c e d t h a t Cezanne had "the sense o f grandeur i n e x p r e s s i n g the: most i n s i g n i f i c a n t of t h e s p e c t a c l e s o f n a t u r e , " and remarked: M a i s remarquez comme ses paysages aux t o i t s rouges s 1 a g r a n d i s s e n t a l a v a s t e p r o p o r t i o n de l a haute d e c o r a t i o n ; comme ses n i l s , l y r i q u e s de s o l i d i t e , - 128 - de v e r i t e , de n a i v e t e , depassent l e s c a d r e s , a p p e l l e n t l e s etendues m u r a l e s . 1 ^ A l r e a d y e a r l i e r i n the y e a r , on t h e o c c a s i o n o f Cezanne's d e a t h , M o r i c e had p u b l i s h e d an a r t i c l e . i n . M e i c u r e , i n which he had s a i d t h a t . t h e p a i n t e r had c r o s s e d I m p r e s s i o n i s m but had gone f u r t h e r . He went t o n a t u r e , b u t he was not c o n t e n t o n l y w i t h an a n a l y t i c a l p r o c e d u r e . He wanted t h e S y n t h e s i s , w h i c h p e r m i t t e d him " t o add t o the enjoyment o f h i s eyes t h e enjoyment o f t h e s p i r i t , " and t o t h e s p l e n d o r s o f n a t u r e "the d e c o r a t i v e sense, the s e c r e t o f which i s i n t h e thought of 168 man." Y e t , w h i l e p r o t e s t i n g a g a i n s t t h e q u a r r e l around Gauguin and Cezanne, M o r i c e was not a t a l l i m p a r t i a l . He d i d 169 c o n s i d e r Gauguin a g r e a t e r p a i n t e r . As was a l r e a d y mentioned, 170 a c c o r d i n g t o him, Cezanne " i n d i c a t e d " and Gauguin " r e a l i z e d . " What he a c t u a l l y imputed t o Cezanne was not b e i n g a S y m b o l i s t , o f p a i n t i n g o n l y t h e v i s i b l e w o r l d , w i t h o u t t h i n k i n g of e x p r e s s i n g s t a t e s o f the s o u l ( e t a t s d'ame), o f b e i n g i n v o l v e d o n l y i n pure p a i n t i n g ( p e i n t u r e en s o i was t h e e x p r e s s i o n used 171 by M o r i c e ) . But M o r i c e found i n Cezanne t h e m e r i t o f p o i n t i n g out t h e n e c e s s i t y f o r a New Symbolism, based on the " i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f n a t u r e a c c o r d i n g t o i t s own l a w s , " even though he was n o t g r e a t enough t o u n d e r s t a n d t h e n e c e s s i t y o f 172 a "Tendresse R a i s o n n e " as w e l l . The a r t i c l e on Cezanne p u b l i s h e d , by M a u r i c e D e n i s i n L ' O c c i d e n t o f September 1907, does not l e a v e any doubt as t o why i t was so i m p o r t a n t f o r him t o b u i l d up an image o f a " c l a s s i c i s t " Cezanne. Denis wanted t o have him on h i s s i d e , because, as h i m s e l f remarked, "Cezanne i n f l u e n c e d a l a r g e s e c t i o n o f the younger a r t i s t s . " T h i s . " c l a s s i c i s m " has t o be u n d e r s t o o d i n a f a i r l y wide sense, t h a t i s a r e t u r n t o a t r a d i t i o n ( G r e c o - L a t i n , o r even b e t t e r , French) o f " o r d e r . " "Order" i s the key word f o r D e n i s , who m i l i t a t e s a g a i n s t an "age o f d i s o r d e r , " a g a i n s t "anarchy" and a g a i n s t " D r e y f u s i s m . " A c c o r d i n g t o D e n i s , C l a s s i c a l a r t a c h i e v e s a p e r f e c t b a l a n c e be- tween "Nature and S t y l e , " o r between."the sense o f Beauty and 175 l o v e o f R e a l i t y . " C o n s e q u e n t l y the l a c k o f m o d e l l i n g was un- c l a s s i c i s t , and a " h i e r a t i c " a r t , w h i l e i t had S t y l e , was d e p a r t i n g t o o much from N a t u r e . D e n i s i s not a g a i n s t d e c o r a t i o n p e r se ( i n f a c t he c o n t i n u e d t o p r a c t i s e i t h i m s e l f ) , but a g a i n s t f l a t d e c o r a t i o n , t h a t i s a g a i n s t t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f " t r u e " d e c o r a t i o n as f i r s t e l a b o r a t e d by t h e G o t h i c R e v i v a l i s t s . He i s n o t so s t r i c t about the r u l e s o f l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e , but he r e q u i r e d an emphasis on "volumes," t h e m o d e l l i n g o f i n - d i v i d u a l o b j e c t s i n t h e p a i n t i n g . He i s a g a i n s t t h e " d e c o r a - t i v e " when u n d e r s t o o d as " o n l y p l e a s i n g t h e eye" and f l a t . D e n i s was o f c o u r s e r e p e n t a n t f o r h i s c o n t r i b u t i o n t o t h e f l a t a r t , and found someone t o blame f o r i t : Gauguin, who as he put i t c o n c i s e l y a c o u p l e o f y e a r s l a t e r , " f l a t t e n e d Cezanne's 176 m o d e l l i n g . " Cezanne, o f c o u r s e , u n d e n i a b l y p r e s e r v e d t h e "Western t r a d i t i o n " . o f m o d e l l i n g , even, though i n summary form (which as we have seen was recommended by many r e f o r m e r s o f 177 decoration.) . I n t h e a r t i c l e on Cezanne, D e n i s made a h y p o t h e t i c a l comparison between two p a i n t i n g s "of t h e same f a m i l y , " f o r example two s t i l l - l i f e ' s , , one by Gauguin,, one by Cezanne (Denis l i k e d t o t a l k i n g e n e r a l terms, n o t about con- c r e t e examples) . He found t h a t Gauguin's, r e v e a l e d a. " d e c o r a t i v e - 130 - even h i e r a t i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f n a t u r e , " w h i l e i n f r o n t o f Cezanne's, "we t h i n k o n l y o f p a i n t i n g ; , n e i t h e r t h e o b j e c t r e - p r e s e n t e d , nor t h e a r t i s t ' s s u b j e c t i v i t y h o l d s o u r a t t e n t i o n . We cannot d e c i d e so q u i c k l y whether i t . i s an i m i t a t i o n o r an 178 i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f n a t u r e . " Thus Cezanne a r t b a l a n c e d Nature and S t y l e , w h i l e Gauguin o n l y a c h i e v e d a d e c o r a t i v e s t y l i z a t i o n . D e n i s added: Nous sentons que c e t a r t - l a e s t p l u s p r e s de C h a r d i n que de Manet e t de Gauguin. E t s i , au p r e m i e r a s p e c t , nous d i s o n s : c ' e s t un t a b l e a u , e t u n t a b l e a u e l a s s i q u e , l e mot commence a p r e n d r e un.sens t r e s n e t , c e l u i d'un e q u i l i b r e , d'une c o n c i l i a t i o n e n t r e l ' o b j e c t i f e t l e s u b j e c t i f . 1 7 9 Denis sees i n Cezanne "the s t r u g g l e f o r s t y l e and t h e p a s s i o n 180 f o r n a t u r e , " w h i c h r e l a t e him t o c l a s s i c i s m . A t t h e same 181 time he sees him as a " n a i v e a r t i s a n , a p r i m i t i v e . " The concept o f " P r i m i t i v e " a l l o w s him t o e x p l a i n Cezanne's gaucher 1 e s , because i t i m p l i e s Cezanne r e n d e r s t h e w o r l d t h r o u g h a " d e c o r a t i v e s y n t h e s i s " the same way a P r i m i t i v e (but not " h i e r a t i c " ) p a i n t e r d i d , t h a t i s , ... 11 accumule l e s o b s e r v a t i o n s , i l en f a i t l e t o t a l , e t i l en e x t r a i t c e t e q u i v a l e n t c a r a c t e r i s t i q u e q u i meme a t r a v e r s l e s s y n t h e s e s l e s p l u s d e c o r a t i v e s c o n s e r v e un apre gout d ' a n a l y s e . 1 8 2 I t was i m p o r t a n t a t the time f o r Denis t o say t h a t n o t a l l o f Cezanne's d i s t o r t i o n s were due t o a , d e c o r a t i v e s t y l i z a t i o n , because o n l y t h i s way c o u l d he make the c o n n e c t i o n w i t h c l a s s i c a l a r t , a c c o r d i n g t o h i s own d e f i n i t i o n . A t t h e same t i m e , Cezanne was f a r from t h e c l a s s i c a l ; , trompe-1' o e i l . The most s t r i k i n g example i s h i s p e r s p e c t i v e ( i n terms o f b o t h l i n e a r and a t m o s p h e r i c ) . There were o n l y two a l t e r n a t i v e s l e f t t o e x p l a i n Cezanne's s p a t i a l d i s t o r t i o n s : one was t o say - 131 - (as Huysmans or T h i e f c a u l t - S i s s o n , when b o t h on n a t u r a l i s t 18 3 grounds had s a i d ) t h a t Cezanne had a " d i s e a s e d eye;" t h e o t h e r was t h a t he, as a P r i m i t i v e , r e n d e r s t h e w o r l d a c c o r d i n g t o the way he knows i t ( a f t e r an. " a c c u m u l a t i o n o f o b s e r v a t i o n s " ) , 184 n o t the way i t appears t o be. D e n i s e x p l a i n e d i n . h i s a r t i c l e on the g a u c h e r i e s o f t h e P r i m i t i v e s , t h a t a P r i m i t i v e r e p r e s e n t s e v e r y t h i n g i n one p l a n e , p i l i n g o b j e c t s on t o p o f each o t h e r i n - s t e a d o f r e p r e s e n t i n g them i n depth,. because: I I p r e f e r e l a r e a l i t e a 1'apparence de l a r e a l i t e . P l u t o t que de se r e s i g n e r aux d e f o r m a t i o n s de l a p e r s p e c t i v e q u i n 1 i n t e r e s s e n t pas.son o e i l v i e r g e , i l . ' con forme 1'image des choses a l a n o t i o n q u ' i l en a.18 5 Of c o u r s e , one cannot h e l p n o t i c i n g t h a t Cezanne d i d not have a " v i r g i n " eye, b u t a v e r y e d u c a t e d one, and a l s o t h a t e a r l i e r p a i n t i n g s done, " d u r i n g t h e h e r o i c t i m e s o f n a t u r a l i s m " (to use Lecomte's e x p r e s s i o n ) d i d have depth a c c o r d i n g t o l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e (as f o r example Rue des S a u l e s , Montmartre o f 186 ' ' 1867-1869, V.45). The n o t i o n t h a t p e r s p e c t i v e , " b e i n g o n l y a v i s u a l a l t e r a t i o n , independent o f t h e o b j e c t " g i v e s o n l y t h e "appearance o f r e a l i t y " was a common n o t i o n i n 19th c e n t u r y academic t e a c h i n g o f d e s s i n p e r s p e c t i f and d e s s i n 18 7 g e o m e t r a l . Geometry w h i c h t e a c h e s us the " r e a l c o n s t r u c t i o n " o f t h e o b j e c t s , a l l o w s us t o see them "as t h e y a c t u a l l y a r e , " 188 i t was s a i d . As I i n d i c a t e d i n the f i r s t c h a p t e r ( P a r t 1 ) , t h e r e f o r m e r s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s .(which i n c l u d e d a c a d e m i c i a n s such as C h a r l e s B l a n c ) i n the second h a l f o f 19th c e n t u r y F r a n c e recommended the a v o i d a n c e o f p e r s p e c t i v e e f f e c t s i n 18 9 d e c o r a t i o n . The d e s s i n g g o m e t r a l ( i n w h i c h a l l f a c e t s o f an o b j e c t a r e r e p r e s e n t e d , w h i l e a des s i n p e r s p e c t i f h i d e s - 132 - some), was the b a s i s o f drawing i n s t r u c t i o n f o r a r c h i t e c t s and d e c o r a t o r s . Denis c o u l d v e r y w e l l have known t h a t Cezanne's s p a t i a l r e p r e s e n t a t i o n and d i s t o r t i o n s c o u l d be e x p l a i n e d by h i s a p p l i c a t i o n o f t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n t h a t he, Denis h i m s e l f , had a p p l i e d t o p a i n t i n g i n t h e 1890s ( a f t e r a l l he c a l l e d Cezanne "the i n i t i a t o r o f t h e movement o f 1890"). But f o r D e n i s , the " n a i v e t e " and " g a u c h e r i e " o f Cezanne were now p r o o f t h a t he d i d n o t " s t y l i z e a s t u d y [meaning a s t u d y a f t e r nature.] as P u v i s de Chavannes i n f a c t d i d , " o r " s t y l i z e an 190 o b j e c t as t h e y say i n t h e S c h o o l o f G r a s s e t . " D e n i s i s now outspoken a g a i n s t A r t Nouveau, w h i c h he c o n s i d e r s " s n o b b i s h , " 191 even though he c o n t r i b u t e d t o t h e c r e a t i o n o f i t s s t y l e . I n - s t e a d o f "arabesques," he i s now i n t e r e s t e d i n "volumes." He i s a g a i n s t t h e S y n t h e t i s m o f Gauguin, B e r n a r d and A n q u e t i n (who he a d m i t s were "the f i r s t t o l o v e and i m i t a t e Cezanne"), because: Leur sy.steme de s y n t h e s e a d m e t t r a i t seulement l a t e i n t e p l a t e e t un dur c o n t o u r ; de l a v i e n t t o u t e une s e r i e d'oeuvres d e c o r a t i v e s dont i l ne m ' a p p a r t i e n t pas de m e d i r e ; mais combien l e s s y n t h e s e s de Cezanne e t a i e n t p l u s s y n o p t i q u e s , p l u s c o n c r e t e s e t p l u s v i v a n t e s ! x ^ 2 D e n i s d e f i n e s Cezanne's S y n t h e t i s m o n l y i n terms o f c o l o u r , not l i n e . Together w i t h B e r n a r d , he c o n t r i b u t e d t o 193 t h e n o t i o n t h a t i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s l i n e does not e x i s t . They were b o t h a g a i n s t l i n e a r s t y l i z a t i o n now, and D e n i s r e l i e d i n t h i s a r t i c l e v e r y much on B e r n a r d ' s a r t i c l e on Cezanne, o f 1904 (a f a c t w h i c h he acknowledged). D e n i s s t a t e d t h a t Cezanne " d i d not u n d e r s t a n d d r a w i n g as b e i n g done by l i n e and - 133 - 194 c o n t o u r . " He i m p l i e d t h a t Cezanne s y n t h e s i z e d c o l o u r and "forms" a t t h e same time,, b u t not lines:.; D e n i s s a i d , i n t e r - • 195 p r e t i n g Cezanne: "Forms a r e f o r him volumes." A c c o r d i n g t o D e n i s , Cezanne s y n t h e s i z e d t h e same way a " c l a s s i c " d i d , not 196 o n l y when he p a i n t e d , b u t a l s o "when he l o o k e d around him." In o t h e r words, the c l a s s i c a l method by-passes a n a l y s i s . A t the same time a c l a s s i c d i d n o t e l i m i n a t e a n y t h i n g e s s e n t i a l from an o b j e c t , when he " s y n t h e s i z e d " o r " s t y l i z e d " : " f o r a p a i n t e r such as P o u s s i n , a t r e e does not l o s e i t s t r e e - l i k e c h a r a c t e r t o become under h i s b r u s h a p i c t u r e s q u e mass o f 197 s i m p l e form." Denis c o n s i d e r e d t h a t Cezanne p o s s e s s e d a " c l a s s i c a l s p o n t a n e i t y " i n h i s v e r y " s e n s a t i o n " which he always t r i e d t o p r e s e r v e , . a n d t h i s s e n s a t i o n i m p l i e d " i d e n t i t y o f 198 c o l o r and form." T h i s i s why, a p p a r e n t l y , u n l i k e Gauguin and the C l o i s o n i s t s ( " f l a t t i n t s " and " f i r m o u t l i n e s " ) or "the s c h o o l o f G r a s s e t " ("which o u t l i n e d t h i c k l y t h e e x t e r n a l c o n t o u r o f some c o p y " ) , Cezanne d i d not s e p a r a t e c o l o u r from form. H i s "forms" are never f l a t says Denis ( h i s " f a c u l t y o f a b s t r a c t i o n " a l l o w s him t o d i s t i n g u i s h "the s p h e r e , t h e cone and t h e c y l i n d e r , " but never "the c i r c l e , t h e t r i a n g l e , the 19 9 p a r a l l e l o g r a m " ) . Cezanne wants t o p r e s e r v e t h e " r e l i e f " o f o b j e c t s , as w e l l as t h e s e n s a t i o n o f depth i n t h e p a i n t i n g , and t h a t o b s e r v e s D e n i s , causes an "antinomy" w i t h t h e "plane s u r f a c e c o v e r e d w i t h c o l o u r s a r r a n g e d i n a p a r t i c u l a r o r d e r . " 2 0 0 "Cezanne s o l v e d t h i s antinomy, 1 1 says D e n i s , "by chromatism, t h a t i s by t h e t r a n s p o s i t i o n o f b l a c k and w h i t e v a l u e s i n t o 201 v a l u e s o f color'.'" T h i s "chromatism" as he c a l l e d i t was not a n o v e l t y , as D e n i s v e r y w e l l knew, s i n c e i n 1897 - 134 - he wrote i n h i s J o u r n a l : V a l u e s o f l i g h t =.' t a b l e a u V a l u e s o f c o l o r = de;coration 20 2- ^ Denis was a l s o v e r y w e l l aware of. the f a c t t h a t t h e I m p r e s s i o n - 203 i s t s had used t h e s e " v a l u e s o f c o l o r . " Cezanne h i m s e l f had 204 acknowledged P i s s a r r o ' s p r i o r i t y i n t h i s r e s p e c t . The d i f f e r e n c e between Cezanne and I m p r e s s i o n i s t s i s t h a t he p r e s e r v e d t h e " l o c a l c o l o u r " most o f t h e t i m e , i n s t e a d o f g i v i n g 205 the i m p r e s s i o n of. "envelope" o f r e f l e c t e d l i g h t . . Cezanne showed o n l y l i m i t e d usage o f t h e "envelope," m o s t l y i n f o l i a g e . F o r Denis (because o f the. " c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s " ) , Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s l o o k l i k e t a p e s t r i e s : Toute l a t o i l e e s t une t a p i s s e r i e ou chaque c o u l e u r joue separement e t confond cependant s a s o n o r i t e dans l'ensumble. L ' a s p e c t c a r a c t e r i s t i q u e . des t a b l e a u x de Cezanne v i e n t de c e t t e j u x t a p o s i t i o n , de c e t t e mosaique des t o n s s e p a r e s e t legerement fondus 1'un dans 1 ' a u t r e . 2 0 6 A c c o r d i n g t o Denis (who o b v i o u s l y had i n mind 18th c. t a p e s t r y ) , Cezanne renewed C h a r d i n ' s method d e s c r i b e d by Bachaumont i n 1767: Sa maniere de p e i n d r e e s t s i n g u l i e r e . I I p l a c e ses c o u l e u r s l'une apres 1 ' a u t r e , sans presque l e s meler de f a c o n que son ouvrage ressemble un peu a de l a mosaique ou p i e c e de r a p p o r t comme l a t a p i s s e r i e a 1 ' a i g u i l l e qu'on a p p e l l e p o i n t c a r r e . 2 0 7 D e n i s t h i n k s t h a t Cezanne's f r u i t , o r t h e u n f i n i s h e d f i g u r e s , o f f e r the b e s t example o f t h i s method. D e n i s , as w e l l as B e r n a r d , must have had i n mind o l d e r p a i n t i n g s , w h i c h f i t t h e i r t h e o r y o f "volume m o d u l a t i o n s " b e t t e r , because s i n c e t h e 1890s Cezanne's s t i l l - l i f e s (such as V.730-V.732) were done i n a d i f f e r e n t manner. O b v i o u s l y i n f l u e n c e d by B e r n a r d , D e n i s s a i d t h a t i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s the. "forms," t h e "volumes" are o n l y "modulated" by a " s e r i e s o f t o u c h e s " w h i c h ."succeed one a n o t h e r by c o n t r a s t o r a n a l o g y a c c o r d i n g t o whether t h e form i s i n t e r - 20 8 r u p t e d o r c o n t i n u o u s . " Yet l o o k i n g a t t h e p a i n t i n g s one can see t h a t Cezanne d i d not i n t e n d t h e " c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s " as a s u b s t i t u t e ' f o r m o d e l l i n g , o n l y as a r e f i n e m e n t . In s p i t e o f D e n i s ' and e s p e c i a l l y B e r n a r d ' s e f f o r t s t o demonstrate the c o n t r a r y , Cezanne d e f i n e d h i s volumes by drawing and o f t e n emphasized t h e c o n t o u r i n d a r k o u t l i n e s (not c o n t i n u o u s 209 t h o u g h ) . Denis i n f a c t acknowledged t h i s emphasis on con- t o u r , b u t p l a y s down i t s r o l e : . . . l e c o n t o u r ne v i e n t qu'a l a f i n , comme un a c c e n t rageur'> un t r a i t a l ' e s s e n c e , q u i . s o u l i g n e e t i s o l e l a forme d e j a rendue s e n s i b l e p a r l e degrade de l a : c o u l e u r . 2 x ^ Of c o u r s e , he cannot e x p l a i n t h e s e f i r m o u t l i n e s on b a s i s of " p e r c e p t i o n . " They are an embarrassment t o any i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of Cezanne t h a t does n o t a l l o w f o r an i n t e n t o f s t y l i z a t i o n 211 from h i s p a r t . W h i l e t h i s i s not t h e g e n e r a l r u l e of de- f i n i n g volumes (such as cubes, s y l i n d r e s , spheres) i n Cezanne's o e u v r e , t h e r e a r e a few i n s t a n c e i n h i s l a n d s c a p e s o f the e a r l y 1880s where the shapes o f r o c k s , t h e a c c i d e n t s i n t e r r a i n s ( r e l i e f s , r a t h e r t h a n t r u l y t h r e e - d i m e n s i o n a l forms, such as a house) a r e b u i l d up by sequences of s m a l l graded u n i t s , o r s i m p l y by. h a t c h i n g . Such examples are Rocks a t L'Estague (V.404, 1 8 8 2 - 5 ) - F i g . 12, o r House i n Provence (V. 397, 1882-5) - F i g . 13. T h i s i s a t e c h n i q u e B e r n a r d im- i t a t e d i n h i s l a n d s c a p e o f Pont-Aven i n 1892 - F i g . 6, mentioned above. . The b u i l d i n g s though, i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s - 136 - (such as t h e house i n F i g . 1 3 ) , p r e s e r v e t h e i r g e o m e t r i c a l forms. They a r e d e f i n e d by drawing and r e i n f o r c e d o u t l i n e s , and c o l o r e d p r a c t i c a l l y i n f l a t t i n t s . They are a l s o seen i n p e r s p e c t i v e . . The cube o f a house, t h e sphere o f an a p p l e , t h e c y l i n d e r o f a b o t t l e , are volumes t h a t Cezanne d i d n o t want t o d i s s o l v e i n a polychrome " e f f e c t . " As he t r i e d t o e x p l a i n t o B e r n a r d i n h i s l e t t e r , he wanted them "brought i n t o p r o p e r 212 p e r s p e c t i v e " ( l e t t e r o f 15 A p r i l 1904). He a l s o wanted t o make s u r e t h a t d e s p i t e t h e " e f f e c t " ( a c h i e v e d e i t h e r by c h i a r o s c u r o - " l i g h t and shade," o r by " c o l o u r s e n s a t i o n s " ) , each such o b j e c t i s m o d e l l e d , t h a t i s i t shows a " c u l m i n a t i n g p o i n t " w h i c h i s " c l o s e s t t o our eye:" ...dans une orange, une pomme, une b o u l e , une t e t e , i l y a un p o i n t c u l m i n a n t ; e t ce p o i n t e s t t o u j o u r s - malgrg l e t e r r i b l e e f f e t : l u m i e r e ombre, s e n s a t i o n s c o l o r a n t e s - l e p l u s r a p p r o c h e de n o t r e o e i l . 2 - ' - 3 D e n i s ' a r t i c l e had a double purpose. On one hand i t p r o - posed t o e s t a b l i s h t h a t Cezanne was e s s e n t i a l l y a " c l a s s i c i s t " i n a g e n e r a l sense (which meant c o n n e c t i n g him not o n l y w i t h 214 P o u s s i n , but a l s o w i t h o t h e r O l d M a s t e r s ) . On t h e o t h e r hand i t was meant t o emphasize t h a t he was not as a c c o m p l i s h e d as the O l d M a s t e r s , and many o f h i s f o l l o w e r s (the p a r t i s a n s 215 o f "pure p a i n t i n g " ) were o n l y i m i t a t i n g h i s f a u l t s . A c c o r d - i n g t o Denis he was a spontaneous o r i n t u i t i v e c l a s s i c , m o s t l y a t t h e l e v e l o f h i s " s e n s a t i o n , " but not so much a t the l e v e l 216 o f " r e a l i z a t i o n . " Thus Cezanne's s p a t i a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s a r e s i m i l a r t o t h o s e o f t h e P r i m i t i v e s , r a t h e r t h a n t o t h o s e en- c o u n t e r e d i n a c l a s s i c a l work. Cezanne o b t a i n e d a " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t " , comparable w i t h t h a t o f V e n e t i a n p a i n t i n g , w h i c h - 137 - s i m i l a r l y o f f e r s " t h i s b e a u t i f u l a s p e c t o f u n i t y o f p l a n e , ". o r t o C h a r d i n ' s ; b u t C h a r d i n and Veronese, D e n i s p o i n t e d o u t , 217 obeyed "the laws o f p e r s p e c t i v e and anatomy." In f a c t , t h i s " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t , " based not on c h i a r o s c u r o , but on c o l o r v a l u e s , i n w h i c h "the a e r i a l p e r s p e c t i v e i s s a c r i f i e d t o t h e extreme," was a c c o r d i n g t o D e n i s , "what most s t r u c k t h e f i r s t S y m b o l i s t s , Gauguin, B e r n a r d , A n q u e t i n , t h o s e who 218 were t h e f i r s t ones t o l o v e and i m i t a t e Cezanne." But t h e p r e s e n t i m i t a t o r s , t h o s e who l o v e "anarchy," " d i s o r d e r , " "paradox," t a k e from Cezanne, Denis i m p l i e s , n o t t h e v o l u n t a r y s i m p l i f i c a t i o n s , n e c e s s a r y i n v i e w o f a d e c o r a t i v e s y n t h e s i s , 219 b u t h i s " n e g l i g e n c e s and i m p e r f e c t i o n s . " Denis a r r i v e s a t the same c o n c l u s i o n as B e r n a r d d i d : i m i t a t e O l d M a s t e r s , not modern ones. A f t e r a l l Cezanne a l s o , s a i d D e n i s , "was s u b j e c t e d t o t h e c o u n t e r - a t t a c k o f t h e d i s o r d e r t h a t c h a r a c t e r i z e s our ,,220 t i m e s . " I n h i s " S o u v e n i r s s u r P a u l Cezanne," p u b l i s h e d i n t h e f a l l o f 1907 i n t h e Mercure de F r a n c e , E m i l e B e r n a r d , l i k e D e n i s , emphasized t h a t Cezanne's " c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s " can be r e l a t e d t o t a p e s t r y p r o c e d u r e s : Je compris de s u i t e que c ' e t a i t une l o i d'harmonie q u i g u i d a i t son t r a v a i l , e t que t o u t e s ces m o d u l a t i o n s a v a i e n t u n e . d i r e c t i o n f i x e e d'avance dans s a r a i s o n . I I p r o c e d a i t en somme comme ont du 1'observer l e s t a p i s s i e r s a n c i e n s , f a i s a n t se s u i v r e l e s c o u l e u r s a p p a r e n t e e s j u s q u ' a ce q u ' e l l e s r e n c o n t r a s s e n t l e u r c o n t r a s t e dans 1 ' o p p o s i t i o n ; 2 2 ± Even more s t r o n g l y t h a n D e n i s , B e r n a r d c r i t i c i s e d Cezanne from h i s c l a s s i c i s t p o s i t i o n . He c r i t i c i s e d Cezanne f o r u s i n g t h e c o l o u r v a l u e s i n s t e a d o f t h e o l d - f a s h i o n e d t o n a l v a l u e s , be- 222 cause t h i s l e d t o a weakness i n d e f i n i n g "form." I n B e r n a r d ' s - 138 - o p i n i o n , Cezanne "does not c a p t i v a t e us w i t h h i s r e n d e r i n g o f 223 form. A c c o r d i n g t o B e r n a r d , Cezanne d i d n o t use the t o n a l v a l u e s because o f h i s f a u l t y v i s i o n ( e x p l a n a t i o n w h i c h b r i n g s 224 t o mind the " d i s e a s e d eye" t h e o r y o f Huysmans).. B e r n a r d c l a i m e d he thought a t f i r s t Cezanne's . " f a u l t s " were " v o l u n t a r y n e g l i g e n c e s , " b u t t h a t Cezanne h i m s e l f blamed them on h i s poor 225 v i s i o n . But a t l e a s t Cezanne t r i e d t o "become c l a s s i c a l by 226 way o f n a t u r e . " He a c h i e v e d " r e l i e f " i n h i s p a i n t i n g s , w h i c h i s more t h a n can be s a i d about Gauguin. T h i s i s the c o n c l u s i o n t h a t can be drawn from B e r n a r d ' s " S o u v e n i r s , " i n w h i c h he "quoted" Cezanne as p r o n o u n c i n g the famous sentence so o f t e n r e p e a t e d s i n c e : "Gauguin was not a p a i n t e r / he made o n l y 227 C h i n e s e images." B e r n a r d c l a i m e d C i z a n n e c o n s i d e r e d Gauguin's i n f l u e n c e " d i s a s t r o u s " and t h a t he always t o l d him o n l y bad t h i n g s about t h i s p a i n t e r . He added: Gauguin a i m a i t beaucoup v o t r e p e i n t u r e , l u i d i s - j e , e t i l vous a beaucoup i m i t e . - Eh b i e n ! i l ne m'a pas c o m p r i s , r e p o n d a i t - i l f u r i e u s e m e n t ; j a m a i s j e n ' a i v o u l u , e t j e n ' a c c e p t e r a i j a m a i s l e manque de modele ou de g r a d u a t i o n ; c ' e s t un n o n - s e n s . 2 2 ^ L a t e r on, B e r n a r d s a i d : Les p l a n s I c ' e t a i t sa c o n t i n u e l l e p r e o c c u p a t i o n . ' V o i l a ce que Gauguin n'a j a m a i s comprise" , i n s i n u a i t - i l . Je d e v a i s a u s s i pour beaucoup p r e n d r e ma p a r t de ce r e p r o c h e ; c a r j e s e n t a i s que Cezanne a v a i t r a i s o n , i l n ' e s t pas de l a b e l l e p e i n t u r e , s i l a s u r f a c e p l a n e r e s t e p l a t e , i l f a u t q u e . l e s o b j e t s t o u r n e n t , s ' e l o i g n e n t , v i v e n t . C'est l a t o u t e l a magie de n o t r e a r t . 2 2 9 From h i s i d e a l i s t (even S y m b o l i s t p o s i t i o n , c o n s i d e r i n g he thought o f h i s c l a s s i c i s m as a " C l a s s i c a l Symbolism"), B e r n a r d l i k e C h a r l e s M o r i c e , c r i t i c i z e d Cezanne f o r n o t r e n d e r i n g t h e s p i r i t , t h e s o u l o f t h i n g s , b u t o n l y t h e i r m a t e r i a l a s p e c t : - 139 - P u i s q u ' l l ne s ' a t t a c h a i t pas a r e n d r e 1 ' e s p r i t des c h o s e s , mais l e u r charme c o l o r i s t e , l e u r m a t i e r e . i l f a u t s u r t o u t l e p r e n d r e dans l a n a t u r e morte. The S a l o n d'Automne o f 1907 h e l d a Cezanne r e s t r o s p e c t i v e t h a t r e u n i t e d a g a i n o l d e r and newer p a i n t i n g s . E m i l e B e r n a r d wrote i n La R e n o v a t i o n E s t h e t i q u e , " R e f l e x i o n s a propos du S a l o n d'automne" i n which he t a l k e d most about Cezanne. The a t t a c k s a g a i n s t him a r e more pronounced here t h a n i n the p r e v i o u s " S o u v e n i r s . " I n f a c t the main a c c u s a t i o n s a r e t h e same ones he made about Gauguin: f l a t n e s s , d e c o r a t i v e c o l o r , l i n e a r s t y l i z a t i o n . Of c o u r s e t h e r e i s no q u e s t i o n o f the a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s o f w h i c h Gauguin was g u i l t y i n B e r n a r d ' s o p i n i o n , b u t t h e f a c t t h a t Cezanne d i d not make use o f c h i a r o s c u r o , o f b l a c k and w h i t e m o d e l l i n g , " k i l l e d t h e p l a n s " and made i m p o s s i b l e a p r o p e r m o d e l l i n g i n the round ( l e t o u r n e ) 231 o f o b j e c t s . Thus B e r n a r d seems t o c o n t r a d i c t here what he s a i d i n the " S o u v e n i r s " o f t h e same y e a r (see t h e quote on p. 138, n. 229). But he was w r i t i n g now f o r a d i f f e r e n c e a u d i e n c e . He d i d r e a l i z e t h a t Cezanne's l a t e s t p a i n t i n g s d i d n o t f i t t h e c l a s s i c i s t image he was t r y i n g t o b u i l d f o r the p a i n t e r , and he d i d not even t r y any more t o say t h a t t h e " f a u l t s " were i n v o l u n t a r y . Comparing the p a i n t i n g s o f h i s e a r l y s t y l e e x h i b i t e d a t the S a l o n , w i t h t h e more r e c e n t ones, B e r n a r d d e c l a r e d : . . . e t nous l e voyons, en l a r e t r o s p e c t i v e du S a l o n d'automne, p a r t a n t de ces p r e m i e r e s e t sompteuses p e i n t u r e s c l a i r o b s c u r e e s e t s o l i d e m e n t magonnees a l a C o u r b e t , a b o u t i r a une. v i s i o n ou l e b l e u , l e jaune e t l e rouge dominent, en un c h a n t p l u s d e c o r a t i f que v r a i e t dans l e s l i n e a m e n t s s t y l i s e s d'une forme v o u l u e s i m p l e , souvent n a i v e . 2 3 2 Thus t h e c o l o u r was " d e c o r a t i v e , " hot- " t r u e , " t h e s i m p l i c i t y - 140 - and n a i v e t y o f forms was: d e s i r e d , and Cezanne used l i n e a r s t y l i z a t i o n . L a t e r , i n 1920, B e r n a r d was t o s u g g e s t t h a t Cezanne's t e c h n i q u e would be a p p r o p r i a t e f o r p r a c t i c a l a p p l i - 23 3 c a t i o n s , ".in d e c o r a t i o n , i n t a p e s t r y , i n t i s s u e s " . I n c o n c l u d i n g t h i s s e c t i o n I would l i k e t o emphasize t h a t Cezanne's c o n t e m p o r a r i e s d i d i n d e e d see him as a " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t e r . Depending on t h e i r own p o s i t i o n , on a r t i n g e n e r a l (not j u s t on Cezanne), some were however .prepared t o a c c e p t o n l y h i s " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t " ( r e l a t e d t o c o l o u r ) as d e l i b e r a t e , and n o t t h e l i b e r t i e s he t o o k w i t h l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e f o r example, o r s i m p l i f i c a t i o n s o f form. Some c r i t i c s s w i t c h e d p o s i t i o n s d u r i n g t h e l a s t decade o f t h e 19th c., and i t i s i m p o r t a n t t o remember when and why. Thus, s i m i l a r t a c t i c s used by Lecomte i n t h e e a r l y ,1890s a g a i n s t the S y m b o l i s t s , were used by D e n i s i n t h e 1900s i n o r d e r t o prove t h a t t h e " a n a r c h i s t s " are borrow- i n g from Cezanne o n l y h i s " f a u l t s v " . D e n i s ' c o n c l u s i o n i n 1907 was t h a t CSzanne m o d e l l e d , but n o t l i k e an O l d M a s t e r , more summarily. Only t h e c o l o r i s t i c e f f e c t (which h e l p e d t o p r e - s e r v e t h e f l a t n e s s o f the p i c t u r e ) was s i m i l a r t o t h a t o b t a i n e d by Veronese o r o t h e r " V e n e t i a n p a i n t i n g . , " y e t more l i k e t h a t o f t a p e s t r y . A l s o , Veronese mastered anatomy and t h e r u l e s o f l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e , w h i c h Cezanne d i d n o t . Cezanne's s p a t i a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s a r e n o t l i k e t h o s e o f . a t r u e c l a s s i c a l M a s t e r , a c c o r d i n g t o D e n i s , b u t more l i k e t h o s e o f a P r i m i t i v e p a i n t e r , who " p r e f e r s r e a l i t y t o the appearance o f r e a l i t y " (which "appearance" o n l y , was g i v e n by t h e l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e ) . S t i l l , - 141 - a c c o r d i n g t o D e n i s , the r e l a t i o n s h i p A r t / N a t u r e i n P r i m i t i v e p a i n t i n g i s c l o s e r t o t h a t o f a c l a s s i c a l p a i n t e r than i n a " h i e r a t i c " p a i n t i n g which he now a b h o r s , as he does a l s o abhor f l a t d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g . B e r n a r d who h e l d views s i m i l a r t o h i s f e l l o w - c l a s s i c i s t D e n i s , a d m i t t e d though t o h i s r e a c t i o n a r y r e a d e r s o f t h e R e n o v a t i o n E s t h e t i q u e i n 1907 t h a t the A r t / N a t u r e r e l a t i o n s h i p i n C e z a n n e ' s . p a i n t i n g i n c l u d e d v o l u n t a r y d i s t o r t i o n s f o r t h e purpose o f b e i n g d e c o r a t i v e . I c o n c e n t r a t e d more on Denis and B e r n a r d than on the o t h e r c r i t i c s , because a p r o c e s s o f " u n n a t u r a l s e l e c t i o n " o f t h e i r w r i t i n g s on C i z a n n e ( e s p e c i a l l y the s o - c a l l e d "quotes" from h i m ) , done by subsequent w r i t e r s , has l e d t o a p r e s e n t day i n t e r - p r e t a t i o n o f Cezanne t h a t i s o l a t e s him from t h e g e n e r a l t r e n d o f t h e a v a n t - g a r d e p a i n t i n g o f h i s t i m e , i n o r d e r t o make o u t o f him a p r e c u r s o r o f movements t h a t took p l a c e a f t e r h i s d e a t h . - 142 - C h a p t e r IT,; P a r t 2 Cezanne and t h e " D e c o r a t i o n Paradigm." I n t r o d u c t i o n . As i s e v i d e n t from Ch. IT, P a r t I , t h e b u l k o f contem- p o r a r y c r i t i c i s m i s i n agreement t h a t Cezanne was a c t u a l l y p a r t o f t h e g e n e r a l a n t i - N a t u r a l i s t tendency toward " d e c o r a - t i v e " p a i n t i n g . But n o t e v e r y commentator c o n s i d e r e d t h a t Cezanne's i n t e n t i o n was t o a p p l y t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f " d e c o r a t i o n " t o e a s e l p a i n t i n g , i n o t h e r words h i s s p a t i a l " d i s t o r t i o n s " f o r example were c o n s i d e r e d by some as n o t v o l u n t a r y . Of c o u r s e , as i s e v i d e n t from Ch. IT, P a r t I a g a i n , t h o s e c r i t i c s had t h e i r s u b j e c t i v e r e a s o n s f o r s a y i n g so. The w r i t i n g s o f M.Denis and E. B e r n a r d from t h e i r " C l a s s i c i s t " p e r i o d a r e p a r t i c u l a r l y s u s p i c i o u s . On one hand t h e y wanted t o demon- s t r a t e t h a t Cezanne was a " C l a s s i c i s t , " c o n s e q u e n t l y on t h e i r s i d e , on t h e o t h e r hand t h e y wanted t o prove he was an "im- p e r f e c t " C l a s s i c i s t , and t h a t h i s " f a u l t s " were e x a c t l y t h e f e a t u r e s t a k e n up by t h e adepts o f "pure p a i n t i n g . " Denis c o m p l a i n e d about t h i s p r e f e r e n c e f o r t h e " i n c o m p l e t e , " about t h e g l o r i f i c a t i o n o f Cezanne's, " n e g l i g e n c e s and i m p e r f e c t i o n s " w h i c h he c o n s i d e r e d p a r t o f t h e c o n d i t i o n s t h a t "breed D r e y f u s i s m . " The " C l a s s i c i s t c o n n e c t i o n " i s not t o t a l l y f a r f e t c h e d . But q u a l i t i e s such as " o r d e r , " " c l a r i t y , " " a r c h i t e c t u r a l , " P o u s s i n - l i k e f e a t u r e s , i n o t h e r words the "good p o i n t s " o f Cezanne by t h e N e o - C l a s s i c i s t s t a n d a r d s , c o u l d be a c c o u n t e d f o r by t h e c o n c e p t o f " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g as u n d e r s t o o d i n t h e 1880s - 143 - and e a r l y 1890s. A t t h e same time most o f the " f a u l t s " can be a l s o a c c o u n t e d f o r as v o l u n t a r y d i s t o r t i o n s i n o r d e r t o a c h i e v e a degree o f f l a t n e s s r e q u i r e d by " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " o r d e c o r a t i o n . S i n c e contemporary c r i t i c i s m ( i n c l u d i n g "eye w i t n e s s a c c o u n t s " ) , as i s t o be e x p e c t e d , c o n t a i n s v a r i o u s , b i a s e s , I w i l l now d i s c u s s Cezanne's l e t t e r s and p a i n t i n g s i n t h e i r h i s t o r i c a l c o n t e x t , i n o r d e r t o r e a c h a more d e f i n i t e con- c l u s i o n . In t h i s s e c t i o n , t h e f o l l o w i n g two main q u e s t i o n s w i l l be c o n s i d e r e d : A. D i d Cezanne f u l f i l l t h e t h r e e c o n d i t i o n s ( i n d i c a t e d i n C h a p t e r I , P a r t 2) t h a t l e d e a s e l p a i n t e r s toward p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n ? The c o n d i t i o n s were: 1) A r t f o r a r t ' s sake, e l i t i s m . 2) A n t i - N a t u r a l i s m ( i n the sense o f a n t i - e m p i r i c i s m , b u t not b e i n g a g a i n s t u s i n g n a t u r e as " m o t i f " ) . 3) W i l l i n g n e s s t o be a " d e c o r a t o r . " B. Do Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s f i t the " d e c o r a t i o n paradigm"? A d i s c u s s i o n o f s p e c i f i c p a i n t i n g s i n c h r o n o l o g i c a l o r d e r r e v e a l s Cezanne as an i n i t i a t o r , as w e l l as a f o l l o w e r o f t h i s t r e n d i n i t s v a r i o u s a s p e c t s . A s p e c i a l emphasis w i l l be p l a c e d on the c o n n e c t i o n I am s u g g e s t i n g , between h i s method o f " c o l o r m o d u l a t i o n s " and t h e w r i t i n g s o f C h a r l e s B l a n c , C h e v r e u l , as w e l l as t h e p r a c t i c a l example o f Rococo t a p e s t r i e s (some o f t h e b e s t specimens o f w h i c h a r e i n A i x ) . - 144 - A. D i d Cezanne f u l f i l the c o n d i t i o n s t h a t l e d e a s e l p a i n t e r s toward p a i n t i n g - d e c o r a t i o n ? 1) A r t f o r a r t ' s sake, e l i t i s m . To "prove" t h i s p o i n t i n Cezanne's p a r t i c u l a r case i s i n f a c t redundant. I t i s r e a l l y no more n e c e s s a r y t h a n t o prove t h a t Cezanne was p a r t of t h e a v a n t - g a r d e , s i n c e " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" was t h e a v a n t - g a r d e ' s credo I n t h e p e r i o d t h a t i n t e r e s t s us h e r e . As I mentioned b e f o r e , " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" was a "code o f p r o f e s s i o n a l e t h i c s , " e v e r s i n c e the S a l o n became f l o o d e d w i t h l i t e r a r y i l l u s t r a t i o n s t h a t s t i r r e d cheap emotions i n t h e v u l g a r b o u r g e o i s p u b l i c . X Nobody d e s c r i b e d more v i v i d l y t h i s p u b l i c , t h e crowd i n v a d i n g t h e S a l o n on Sunday t o be amused, than Cezanne's boyhood f r i e n d E m i l e Z o l a . I t i s w e l l known t h a t Z o l a , t h e " f a t h e r " o f l i t e r a r y N a t u r a l i s m , c o n s i d e r e d I m p r e s s i o n i s m ( i n the l a t e 1860s and 1870s) as the c o u n t e r p a r t o f N a t u r a l i s m i n p a i n t i n g . I t i s not o f t e n p o i n t e d out t h a t Z o l a h i m s e l f emphasized the " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" q u a l i t i e s o f I m p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g : i t was p a i n t i n g b e f o r e a n y t h i n g e l s e , i t was not s u b o r d i n a t e d t o t h e s u b j e c t - m a t t e r t o the p o i n t o f t e l l i n g s t o r i e s o r i l l u s t r a t i n g a poem. Of c o u r s e , t h i s d i d n o t mean t h e c h o i c e , o f s u b j e c t - m a t t e r was n o t i m p o r t a n t . F o r Z o l a t h e s u b j e c t - m a t t e r had t o be t a k e n from r e a l i t y , from 4 modern l i f e , he was a g a i n s t "dreamers and i d e a l i s t s . " But l o o k i n g a t Cezanne's range o f s u b j e c t - m a t t e r , even i n t h e p e r i o d o f t r i u m p h a n t N a t u r a l i s m , we can see t h a t many o f h i s c o m p o s i t i o n s (and t h e y are " c o m p o s i t i o n s , " a word t h a t was taboo i n the N a t u r a l i s t v o c a b u l a r y ) f i t r a t h e r i n t o t h e "dream" - 145 - o r a t l e a s t f i g m e n t o f i m a g i n a t i o n c a t e g o r y . Such a r e h i s B a t h e r s ( f o r example' F i v e Women - V . 2 6 4 , 1873-1877, o r Three Women - V.266, C. .1876) , a t o p i c o f importance i n Cezanne's oeuvre, o r c o m p o s i t i o n s l i k e the T e m p t a t i o n o f S t . Anthony o f w h i c h he p a i n t e d t h r e e v e r s i o n s and d i d a t l e a s t f o u r drawings." A l l t h r e e v e r s i o n s e x h i b i t t h e q u a l i t i e s o f "pure p a i n t i n g " so much admired l a t e r on, and t o t a l l y d i s r e g a r d human e x p r e s s i o n , t h e s t o r y - t e l l i n g a s p e c t . I f t h e f i r s t v e r s i o n (V. 103, c.1870) c o n t i n u e s t h e p a i n t e r l y a r t f o r a r t ' s s a k e t r a d i t i o n o f t h e Romantic s c h o o l , t h e t h i r d v e r s i o n (V.241, 1873-1877; 1875 a c c o r d i n g t o R e f f ) - F i g . 4, i s an example o f a c l e a r l y non- n a t u r a l i s t work, where Cezanne a p p l i e d h i s " I m p r e s s i o n i s t manner," and where h i s " d e l i b e r a t e " s t r o k e can be a l r e a d y d e t e c t e d . T h i s was t h e p a i n t i n g t h a t B e r n a r d compared i n h i s a r t i c l e o f 1891 w i t h an o l d b a s - r e l i e f . I n such c o m p o s i t i o n s i n w h i c h Cezanne p l a c e d nude f i g u r e s i n p l e i n - a i r , he em- p h a s i z e d not o n l y c o l o u r , p a t e , b u t a l s o the o u t l i n e s o f h i s "academies." Thus Cezanne's " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" c o n c e p t i n - c l u d e d b o t h c o l o u r and l i n e a t . a time when l i n e (which was c o n s i d e r e d as not a c t u a l l y "seen" i n n a t u r e ) was a v o i d e d by t h e . I m p r e s s i o n i s t s . E i s l i n e r e n d e r e d •- the " c h a r a c t e r " o f the f i g u r e s , w h i c h i f they were dream a p p a r i t i o n s , i n d i c a t e d Cezanne d i d n o t have t h e same k i n d o f dreams t h e S y m b o l i s t s had. H i s women a r e not phantoms, but e r o t i c v i s i o n s . Cezanne was, never an I d e a l i s t , but he was not a R e a l i s t e i t h e r . " B a t h e r s , " w i t h t h e i r m y t h o l o g i c a l c h a r a c t e r , r e p r e s e n t e d a s u b j e c t i n p e r f e c t accordance w i t h the recommendations g i v e n 7 by the r e f o r m e r s o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . They would t a k e the - 146 - v i e w e r i n t o a f a n t a s y w o r l d , w i t h o u t s u b j e c t i n g him t o power- f u l emotions. . But by p l a c i n g h i s s k e t c h y nudes i n an "im- p r e s s i o n i s t i c l a n d s c a p e " Cezanne was s u b s t i t u t i n g a "modern i d e a l " f o r a " c l a s s i c a l i d e a l , " not; u n l i k e what the i n f l u e n t i a l non-academic c r i t i c , E r n e s t Chesneau had a d v o c a t e d a l r e a d y i n 1862 i n h i s book on F r e n c h p a i n t i n g o f the 19th c e n t u r y , Les C h e f s d'eCO1e. As w i l l be e v i d e n t a l s o from t h e n e x t s e c t i o n , t h e r e are s t r i k i n g s i m i l a r i t i e s between Chesneau's and Cezanne's o p i n i o n s . Chesneau d e c l a r e d t h a t i n the f i e l d o f p l a s t i c a r t s , " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" (which was the d o c t r i n e o f the Romantic 9 School) was e q u i v a l e n t t o " d e c o r a t i v e " a r t . But he d i d not approve o f an a r t f o r a r t ' s sake as u n d e r s t o o d i n the 1860s and 187 0s, t h a t i s i n a p u r e l y m a t e r i a l i s t i c framework, d e s t i n e d f o r the p l e a s u r e o f the eye a l o n e . He was i n f a v o r o f a m i x t u r e of R e a l i s m and I d e a l i s m , f o r an a r t f o r a r t ' s sake w h i c h g i v e s t h e " s p e c t a c l e o f l i f e , " i n w h i c h "the s u b j e c t i s n o t h i n g , a r t i s e v e r y t h i n g " and a t t h e same time c o n t a i n s an " i d e a . " H i s f a v o r e d p r o t o t y p e f o r such an a r t (which.of c o u r s e , as he e x p l a i n e d , was not u n d e r s t o o d by t h e v u l g a r crowd t h a t f r e - quented the Salon) was t h e p a i n t e r R i b o t , about whose s t i l l l i f e s he had t h i s t o say: L ' a r t de R i b o t n ' e v e i l l e pas seulement 1'idee des o b j e t s q u ' i l met en scene, i l n'en f a i t pas seulement un p r e t e x t e a c o l o r a t i o n s , de p r o f o n d e harmonie; i l en donne l a s e n s a t i o n e x a c t e , non en trompe - l ' o e i l e n f a n t i n , mais a l a f a c o n du grand a r t q u i c h o i s i t e t i n t e r p r e t e . I c i , l a v i e de ces choses i n e r t e s , de ces n a t u r e s - m o r t e s e s t p r o d i g i e u s e ; x ^ . Chesneau p r a i s e d R i b o t because he d i d n o t make any c o n c e s s i o n s t o " b o u r g e o i s p o p u l a r i t y " ("II n'a f a i t aucune. avance a l a 11 p o p u l a r i t e .bour.geoi.se.-...") . Thus S t i l l L i f e was another http://bour.geoi.se - 147 - i d e a l s u b j e c t - m a t t e r f o r t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " o r " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" e a s e l p a i n t i n g s , and not o n l y i n the p u r e l y m a t e r i a l i s t i c o r i m i t a t i v e sense w h i c h was a l r e a d y amply e x p l o i t e d by t h e n i n t h i s theme, b u t i n . t h e manner o f " h i g h a r t w h i c h makes c h o i c e s and i n t e r p r e t s . " I t i s i n t h i s l i g h t t h a t , i n my o p i n i o n , we 12 s h o u l d r e g a r d Cezanne's s t i l l l i f e s . I t i s easy t o u n d e r s t a n d why Chesneau would a p p e a l t o t h e a v a n t - g a r d e , when he not o n l y s u p p o r t e d a r t f o r a r t ' s sake, but warned h i s r e a d e r s a g a i n s t what he c o n s i d e r e d , "the bad s i d e o f a r t f o r a r t ' s sake," namely t h e danger o f becoming o n l y "more o r l e s s s k i l f u l w o r k e r s " ("des m a n o u v r i e r s p l u s ou moins 13 h a b i l e s " ) , not " a r t i s t s . " Chesneau c o n s i d e r e d s k i l f u l n e s s ( " h a b i l e t e du m e t i e r " ) , manual d e x t e r i t y , " v i r t u o s i t y , " t o be "the enemy o f a l l t h a t i s s i n c e r e , n a i v e and t r u e , " which f o r 14 him meant t o be a g a i n s t " a l l m o r a l i t y . " In a l e t t e r t o h i s mother (26 September 1874), Cezanne e x p r e s s e d s i m i l a r t h o u g h t s c o n c e r n i n g what was t r u l y " a r t i s t i c " : I have t o work a l l t h e t i m e , not t o r e a c h t h a t f i n a l p e r f e c t i o n w h i c h e a r n s t h e a d m i r a t i o n o f i m b e c i l e s . - And t h i s t h i n g w h i c h i s commonly a p p r e c i a t e d so much i s m e r e l y t h e e f f e c t o f d r a f t m a n s h i p and r e n d e r s a l l work r e s u l t i n g from i t , i n a r t i s t i c and common.x^ Chesneau p r a i s e d " n a t i o n a l g e n i u s " and i n d i v i d u a l i t y . He b e l i e v e d t h a t t h e o n l y way t o r e g e n e r a t e a r t , w h i c h a c c o r d i n g t o him was i n decadence, was t h r o u g h N a t u r e : "La s e u l e , 1 ' i n - t a r i s s a b l e source...1Veau de r e g e n e r a t i o n , c ' e s t l a n a t u r e . " ^ T h i s was t r u e f o r " h i g h a r t " as w e l l as f o r the " d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , " s i n c e t h e y were b o t h based on the same p r i n c i p l e : "the 17 s e n t i m e n t o f b e a u t y o r t h e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f n a t u r e . " Chesneau e n v i s a g e d t h e a r t i s t as an e d u c a t e d p e r s o n and a - 148 - t h i n k e r . He c o n s i d e r e d t h e c o n t r i b u t i o n o f l i t e r a r y men t o t h e "language o f a r t " as u n f o r t u n a t e . The w r i t e r s , i n t h e i r q u a l i t y o f a r t c r i t i c s , . - u s e d "vague" and " p o o r e l y d e f i n e d terms',1 1 t h e y c o n s t a n t l y s u b s t i t u t e d "the l i t e r a r y . i d e a f o r t h e p l a s t i c 18 i d e a . " Cezanne s h a r e s Chesneau 1 s m i s t r u s t o f . m i x i n g p a i n t i n g and l i t e r a t u r e , as w e l l as h i s emphasis on Nature as the s o u r c e o f a r t : He (the a r t i s t ) must be aware o f t h e l i t e r a r y s p i r i t w h i c h so o f t e n causes t h e p a i n t e r t o d e v i a t e from h i s t r u e p a t h - t h e c o n c r e t e s t u d y o f n a t u r e - t o l o s e h i m s e l f t o o l o n g i n i n t a n g i b l e s p e c u l a t i o n . • Cezanne c e r t a i n l y f u l f i l l e d t h e f i r s t c o n d i t i o n t h a t l e d p a i n t e r s toward a r t f o r a r t ' s sake, namely t h e h a t r e d f o r t h e b o u r g e o i s . I n a l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d he d e c l a r e d : " I t i s s u f f i c i e n t t o have a sense o f a r t - and t h i s i s w i t h o u t doubt t h e h o r r o r o f t h e 2 0 b o u r g e o i s , t h i s sense." He p a r t i c u l a r l y h a t e d t h e m a t e r i a l - i s t i c b o u r g e o i s i e o f h i s p a r t o f the c o u n t r y ; i n 1878 he wrote t o Z o l a : M a r s e i l l e i s F r a n c e ' s o i l c a p i t a l , j u s t as P a r i s i s t h e b u t t e r c a p i t a l ; you have no i d e a o f the presump- t u o u s n e s s o f t h i s f i e r c e p o p u l a t i o n , t h e y have b u t one i n s t i n c t , t h a t f o r money; i t i s s a i d t h a t t h e y e a r n a l o t , b u t they a r e v e r y u g l y . 2 - 1 Cezanne was o f t h e o p i n i o n t h a t " t a s t e " i s something " r a r e , " and t h a t " A r t a d d r e s s e s i t s e l f o n l y t o an e x c e s s i v e l y l i m i t e d 22 number o f i n d i v i d u a l s . " He c o n s i d e r e d t h a t "The work w h i c h b r i n g s about some p r o g r e s s i n one's o w n . c r a f t i s s u f f i c i e n t 23 compensation f o r not b e i n g u n d e r s t o o d by the i m b e c i l e s . " But Cezanne d i d b e l i e v e t h a t p a i n t e r s s h o u l d "produce p i c t u r e s w h i c h w i l l be an e d u c a t i o n , " j u s t as M a l l a r m e thought 24 t h a t a r t s h o u l d be a form o f e d u c a t i o n . ; .It was common f o r - 149 - t h e avant-garde t o b e l i e v e (and t h i s i n c l u d e s Mallarme as w e l l as Cezanne) t h a t t h e p u b l i c somewhere i n t h e f u t u r e would be r e c e p t i v e t o t h e i r work, b u t t h a t i n t h e p r e s e n t s o c i e t y i t c o u l d be u n d e r s t o o d o n l y by a s m a l l e l i t e . Who was t h i s e l i t e ? A s m a l l group o f " i n t e l l i g e n t amateurs" such as Roger Marx ("the most i n t e l l i g e n t " o f them i f we are t o b e l i e v e 25 M a u c l a i r ) , t o whom, as I mentioned m C h a p t e r I I , P a r t 1, 26 Cezanne wrote; t o e x p r e s s h i s g r a t i t u d e . 2) A n t i - N a t u r a l i s m . The purpose o f t h i s s e c t i o n i s t o demonstrate t h a t a t t h e o n s e t o f t h e a n t i - p o s i t i v i s t r e a c t i o n and l a t e r , Cezanne's p o s i t i o n i n r e g a r d w i t h t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p A r t / N a t u r e was not t h a t o f a N a t u r a l i s t . I remind t h e r e a d e r t h a t I am r e f e r r i n g t o t h e N a t u r a l i s t movement a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e p o s i t i v i s t p h i l o s o p h y , and do not mean by N a t u r a l i s m r e p r e s e n t a t i o n a l a r t i n g e n e r a l , a c o n n o t a t i o n o f t e n t o be found i n modern w r i t i n g s . N a t u r a l i s m was based on t h e e m p i r i c a l method o f o b s e r v a t i o n o f p a r t i c u l a r phenomena (emphasized t h e " a c c i d e n t a l " v e r s u s t h e "permanent"), was a n a l y t i c a l , d i d not a c c e p t g e n e r a l i z a t i o n s , o r " c o m p o s i t i o n . " I t was based i n t h e case o f t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s m o f t h e 1870s on t h e pure spontaneous, v i s u a l sen- s a t i o n , i t was not " c o n c e p t u a l , " i t was i n c o m p a t i b l e w i t h an 27 " i d e a l . " S u b j e c t i v i t y was a l l o w e d o n l y as "temperament," ^ 28 w h i c h a l s o had a p h y s i o l o g i c a l c o n n o t a t i o n . Cezanne's language, as w i l l be e v i d e n t f r o m . h i s l e t t e r s , was not t h a t o f an I d e a l i s t . He was not a S y m b o l i s t . H i s - 150 - language c o n t a i n s a m i x t u r e o f N a t u r a l i s t and a n t i - N a t u r a l i s t , even S y m b o l i s t c o n c e p t s . Words such as "temperament" (which was a term a c t u a l l y used p r i o r , t o t h e N a t u r a l i s t movement) and a l s o i n the c o n t e x t o f "pure p a i n t i n g " ) and " a r t i s t i c i d e a l " a r e used i n t h e same sentence ("With a p a i n t e r ' s tem- perament and an a r t i s t i c i d e a l , t h a t i s t o say a c o n c e p t i o n o f 29 n a t u r e . . . " ) . He o f t e n t a l k s about e x p r e s s i n g h i s "emotion" i n f r o n t o f n a t u r e (which has a S y m b o l i s t c o n n o t a t i o n , a t l e a s t a c c o r d i n g t o D e n i s , i f n o t t o A u r i e r ) and o f not h a v i n g t h e d e s i r e t o r e p r o d u c e n a t u r e . 3 0 I n 1878 Cezanne wondered i f h i s o p i n i o n o f " p a i n t i n g as a means o f e x p r e s s i n g f e e l i n g s " 31 was s h a r e d by Z o l a . A month l a t e r Cezanne wrote t o Z o l a : As you say, t h e r e a r e some v e r y b e a u t i f u l v i e w s here (at l ' E s t a q u e ) . The d i f f i c u l t y i s t o reproduce them, t h i s i s n ' t e x a c t l y my T i n e . I began t o see n a t u r e r a t h e r l a t e , though t h i s does not p r e v e n t i t b e i n g f u l l o f i n t e r e s t f o r me. 3 2 Oezanne had c o n n e c t i o n s i n v a r i o u s i n t e l l e c t u a l c i r c l e s . I n the l a s t y e a r o f h i s l i f e he was r e m i n i s c i n g about h i s v i s i t s i n 1877 t o t h e house o f N i n a de V i l l a r d , who was a f r i e n d o f V e r l a i n e ,and M a l l a r m e , and who r e c e i v e d many 33 a r t i s t s . He was w e l l i n f o r m e d not o n l y on t h e l a t e s t developments i n p a i n t i n g , l i t e r a t u r e , p o e t r y , but a l s o i n music t h r o u g h h i s f r i e n d s M o r s t a t t and Cabaner. Cezanne had been a l o v e r o f Wagner's music s i n c e the mid-1860s and p a i d t r i b u t e t o him i n . h i s t h r e e v e r s i o n s o f O u v e r t u r e t o Tannhauser, o f w h i c h o n l y t h e t h i r d v e r s i o n , o f 1868, (or a f t e r ) i s e x t a n t - 34 F i g . 1. I f i t seems t h a t i n some ways he can be connected w i t h Symbolism, i t . i s because he had a f f i n i t i e s not o n l y w i t h t h e N a t u r a l i s t s c h o o l a t i t s apogee, but a l s o w i t h . t h e non- p o s i t i v i s t , a n t i - N a t u r a l i s t , non-academic c u l t u r a l m i l i e u i n w h i c h f u t u r e S y m b o l i s t i d e a s f e r m e n t e d . Cezanne's c h o i c e o f t h e T e m p t a t i o n o f S t . Anthony theme i s t h e r e s u l t o f h i s a f f i n i t i e s w i t h . t h e l a t t e r . This.theme i n t e r e s t e d B a u d e l a i r e , 35 as w e l l as V e r l a i n e . Cezanne's i n v o l v e m e n t w i t h t h i s s u b j e c t precedes t h a t o f O d i l o n Redon (a p a i n t e r whom he "enormously" 36 a d m i r e d ) . I t i s s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t the l a s t v e r s i o n o f t h e T e m p t a t i o n ( F i g . 4) i s one o f t h e , f i r s t p a i n t i n g s i n w h i c h Cezanne e x h i b i t s t h e o r d e r e d , p a r a l l e l b r u s h s t r o k e s t h a t i n t h e 1880s w i l l c o v e r t h e e n t i r e s u r f a c e o f a l l h i s p a i n t i n g s , r e g a r d l e s s o f t h e s u b j e c t m a t t e r . The o t h e r p i c t u r e s done about t h e same time i n w h i c h t h i s " h a t c h i n g " appears are a l s o f a n t a s y c o m p o s i t i o n s , as R e f f remarked: La L u t t e d'amour (V.379) and L ' E t e r n e l f e m i n i n (V.. 247) . I n t h e l a s t one, t h e r e g u l a r s t r o k e s c o v e r almost t h e e n t i r e s u r f a c e o f t h e p a i n t i n g . R e f f p o i n t e d out t h a t Cezanne d e v e l o p e d t h i s f o r m a l f e a t u r e f i r s t l y i n f a n t a s y c o m p o s i t i o n s , because i t was o n l y a f o r m a l d e v i c e and not "an a n a l y t i c d e v i c e adapted t o t h e o b s e r v a t i o n 37 o f n a t u r a l phenomena." T h i s new f a c t u r e h e l p e d t o a c h i e v e a u n i t y o f e f f e c t . The o v e r a l l b l u i s h tone o f t h e T e m p t a t i o n 3 8 ( F i g . 4) worked t o the same purpose. The f a c t t h a t he l a t e r i n t r o d u c e d t h e same " f o r m u l a s " i n t o l a n d s c a p e p a i n t i n g o n l y shows t h a t h i s approach t o n a t u r e was not a t a l l e m p i r i c a l . He was s e l e c t i n g from n a t u r e o n l y what he c o n s i d e r e d would make a good m o t i f (a word t h a t Chesneau used v e r y o f t e n ) and p a i d s p e c i a l a t t e n t i o n t o the " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t . " I n 1883 he w r o t e t o Z o l a : - 152 - I have here some b e a u t i f u l v i e w s but t h e y do not q u i t e make m o t i f s . - N e v e r t h e l e s s , c l i m b i n g t h e h i l l s as t h e sun goes down one has a g l o r i o u s v i e w of M a r s e i l l e i n t h e background and. t h e i s l a n d s , a l l e n v e l o p e d towards e v e n i n g t o v e r y d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t . 3 ^ In the l a t e 1870s and e a r l y 18 8 0s t h e r e i s a pronounced p r e - o c c u p a t i o n w i t h " o r d e r " i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s , e s p e c i a l l y i n h i s brushwork (a p r e o c c u p a t i o n t h a t was s h a r e d by P i s s a r r o and c o n s t i t u t e d a s o u r c e o f i n s p i r a t i o n f o r the N e o - I m p r e s s i o n i s t s ^ ) and w i t h "harmony" o f c o l o u r s from a s c i e n t i f i c ( t h e o r e t i c a l 41 not e m p i r i c a l ! ) p o i n t o f v i e w . I n 1884 Cezanne wrote t o Z o l a : . . . a r t i s c h a n g i n g t e r r i b l y i n i t s o u t e r appearance... a t t h e same t i m e t h e i g n o r a n c e o f harmony r e v e a l s i t - s e l f more and more t h r o u g h t h e d i s c o r d o f the c o l o u r s and, what^ i s even worse, the aphony o f t h e tones.42 The " s c i e n c e o f harmony" was a l s o a major c o n c e r n o f Gauguin a t about t h e same t i m e , as i s e v i d e n t from h i s m a n u s c r i p t 43 o f "Notes S y n t h e t i q u e s " o f c a . 1884-1885. Gauguin met Cezanne i n 1881 i n P o n t o i s e where he was v i s i t i n g P i s s a r r o , and s i n c e t h e n he had a s s i d u o u s l y t r i e d t o o b t a i n h i s " f o r - 44 mula." I n a few y e a r s Gauguin f e l l under t h e s p e l l o f B e r n a r d and became, a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e l i t e r a r y Symbolism, t h u s h i s p a i n t i n g became i n t e n t i o n a l l y the r e f l e c t i o n o f an I d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h y . As h i s former f r i e n d and master P i s s a r r o put i t , Gauguin "has sensed the tendency" toward I d e a l i s m , 45 • m y s t i c i s m , o c c u l t i s m , r e l i g i o n . . Cezanne however, even though he was g e t t i n g i n c r e a s i n g l y c l o s e r t o t h e C a t h o l i c 46 c h u r c h , d i d not embrace p h i l o s o p h i c a l i d e a l i s m . . What he wanted t o r e n d e r was h i s "emotion i n f r o n t o f n a t u r e " as he 47 r e p e a t e d o v e r and o v e r a g a i n . T h i s was not t h e t r a n s c e n - - 153 - d e n t a l emotion" A u r i e r thought he d e t e c t e d i n Gauguin's p a i n t - i n g s . Cezanne e x p r e s s e d i n f a c t a p r e - S y m b o l i s t n o t i o n w h i c h was q u i t e common-place b e f o r e t h e o n s e t o f N a t u r a l i s m . That l a n d s c a p e s s h o u l d t r a n s l a t e "the emotion o f a p a i n t e r i n f r o n t o f n a t u r e " was c o n s i d e r e d t h e norm f o r C h a r l e s B l a n c , who a l - ready i n 1866 recommended such "Dutch p a i n t i n g s t h a t our F r e n c h - men make so w e l l , " among t h e "works d e s t i n e d f o r t h e ornamenta- 49 t i o n o f our houses." D e l a c r o i x a l s o h e l d t h e o p i n i o n t h a t a p a i n t e r s h o u l d e x p r e s s h i s "emotions b e f o r e n a t u r e , " as was known from a book on h i s l i f e and work p u b l i s h e d i n 1865 by 50 . A c h i l l e P i r o n . Cezanne's l o n g l a s t i n g i n t e r e s t i n D e l a c r o i x i s w e l l known (even a t t h e end o f h i s l i f e he was r e a d i n g "the a p p r e c i a t i o n t h a t B a u d e l a i r e has w r i t t e n about t h e work o f 51 D e l a c r o i x " ) so i t i s q u i t e l i k e l y he was p a r a p h r a s i n g him. B a u d e l a i r e r e c a l l e d t h a t D e l a c r o i x "used c o n t i n u a l l y t o say": " I c o n s i d e r t h e i m p r e s s i o n t r a n s m i t t e d t o t h e a r t i s t by n a t u r e 52 as t h e most i m p o r t a n t t h i n g o f a l l t o t r a n s l a t e . " Cezanne w r o t e : "To succeed i n f o r m u l a t i n g s u f f i c i e n t l y t h e i m p r e s s i o n w h i c h we e x p e r i e n c e i n c o n t a c t w i t h t h i s b e a u t i f u l n a t u r e -man, woman, s t i l l - l i f e . . . t h a t i s my w i s h t o a l l who are i n sympathy 53 w i t h a r t . " But t h e s e are no more t h e words o f a N a t u r a l i s t t h a n are D e l a c r o i x ' s . The l a t t e r wrote i n 1860: " R e a l i s m should 54 be d e s c r i b e d as t h e a n t i p o d e s o f a r t . " L i k e D e l a c r o i x , Cezanne was c o n s t a n t l y p r e o c c u p i e d w i t h t h e "means o f e x p r e s s - 55 i o n " o f t h e emotions he f e l t . A l s o l i k e D e l a c r o i x (most l i k e - l y i n f l u e n c e d by him as were t h e N e o - I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , Van Gogh and Gauguin) he a r r i v e d a t t h e l o g i c o f " h a r m o n y . I n h i s J o u r n a l s D e l a c r o i x r e m i n i s c e d about a s k i n g Chopin t o " e x p l a i n what i t i s t h a t g i v e s t h e i m p r e s s i o n o f l o g i c i n music." The - 154 - composer e x p l a i n e d t o the p a i n t e r , c o m p l y i n g t o h i s r e q u e s t , 57 "the meaning o f harmony and c o u n t e r p o i n t . " Cezanne as w e l l as Gauguin were i n t e r e s t e d i n 1884, as I a l r e a d y mentioned, i n harmony o f c o l o u r and m u s i c a l harmony, and t h e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e between them. I f t h e r e a r e s i m i l a r i t i e s between Cezanne's concept t h a t p a i n t i n g s h o u l d e x p r e s s f e e l i n g s , and S y m b o l i s t v i e w s on a r t , i t i s because b o t h p a r t i e s used common s o u r c e s : B a u d e l a i r e , who 5 8 c o n s i d e r e d Romanticism a "mode o f f e e l i n g , " and D e l a c r o i x . A l s o , t h e s i m i l a r i t y i n t h e d e s i r e t o o r d e r t h e s e s e n s a t i o n s i n a t h e o r e t i c a l s c i e n t i f i c way, w h i c h can be d e t e c t e d i n Cezanne and t h e N e o - I m p r e s s i o n i s t s has a common s o u r c e : D e l a c r o i x . Cezanne h e l d t h e o p i n i o n t h a t " E v e r y t h i n g , e s p e c i a l l y . ' i n a r t , 59 i s t h e o r y d e v e l o p e d and a p p l i e d i n c o n t a c t w i t h n a t u r e . " D e l a c r o i x c o n s i d e r e d t h a t " a r t i t s e l f " i s " s c i e n c e , " and "not what t h e v u l g a r b e l i e v e i t t o be,. a vague i n s p i r a t i o n coming from nowhere..."^ 0 Cezanne's a d v i c e t o o t h e r s c o n c e r n i n g b o t h t h e r e l a t i o n - s h i p a r t / n a t u r e , as w e l l as modern a r t / t r a d i t i o n i s v e r y s i m i l a r t o t h a t g i v e n by Chesneau. Chesneau as we remember, recommended N a t u r e as a s o u r c e o f r e j u v e n a t i o n f o r a r t . He p l e a d e d f o r t h e " s i n c e r e " and " d i r e c t " o b s e r v a t i o n o f N a t u r e , w h i c h a c c o r d i n g t o him, t h e M a s t e r s w h i c h today a r e c o p i e s and i m i t a t e d a l s o p r a c t i s e d . A t t h e same t i m e , he s a i d , t h e M a s t e r ' s works o f a r t were s u p e r i o r t o N a t u r e , because t h e y l e f t out t h e unneces- s a r y d e t a i l s and e x t r a c t e d "the s p e c i f i c c h a r a c t e r , t h e ex- p r e s s i v e s i g n . C h e s n e a u p o i n t e d out t h a t t h e M a s t e r s " d i d n o t t e l l t h e i r s u c c e s s o r s " : - 155 -= . " F a i t e s ce que nous avons f a i t ; " U s on d i t : " F a i t e s comme nous avons f a i t ; a t t a c h e z - v o u s a r e a l i s e r , d'apres d 1 a u t r e v e r i t e s connues de vous, ce que nous avons r e a l i s e r d'apres c e l l e s .qui nous e t a i e n t f a m i l i e r e s . " 62 Cezanne d e c l a r e d i n 1897: A r t i s a harmony which runs p a r a l l e l w i t h n a t u r e - what i s one t o t h i n k o f t h o s e i m b e c i l e s who say t h a t t h e a r t i s t i s always i n f e r i o r t o n a t u r e ? 63 I n a l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d o f 1905, Cezanne t o u c h e d upon most o f t h e same i s s u e s Chesneau r a i s e d . He c o m p l a i n e d t h a t t h e " o f - f i c i a l S a l o n s remain so i n f e r i o r " because t h e y encourage o n l y a c c e p t e d methods, and o f f e r e d t h i s opinion': I t would be b e t t e r t o b r i n g i n more p e r s o n a l emotion, o b s e r v a t i o n and c h a r a c t e r . The Louvre i s t h e book i n w h i c h we l e a r n t o r e a d . We must n o t , however, be s a t i s f i e d , w i t h r e t a i n i n g t h e b e a u t i - f u l f o r m u l a s - o f our i l l u s t r i o u s p r e d e c e s s o r s . L e t us go f o r t h t o s t u d y b e a u t i f u l n a t u r e , l e t us t r y t o f r e e our minds from them, l e t us s t r i v e t o e x p r e s s o u r s e l v e s a c c o r d i n g t o our p e r s o n a l temperament. 64 Three y e a r s e a r l i e r Cezanne a d v i s e d t h e p a i n t e r C h a r l e s Camoin: S i n c e you are now i n P a r i s and t h e masters of t h e Louvre a t t r a c t you, i f i t a p p e a l s t o you, make some s t u d i e s a f t e r t h e g r e a t d e c o r a t i v e m a s t e r s Veronese and Rubens, b u t as you would do from n a t u r e - a t h i n g I m y s e l f was o n l y a b l e t o do i n a d e q u a t e l y . 65 Cezanne was n o t i n t e r e s t e d i n r e n d e r i n g a spontaneous v i s u a l s e n s a t i o n , b u t i n " c o n s t r u c t i o n s a f t e r n a t u r e , based on method, 6 6 s e n s a t i o n s and developments s u g g e s t e d by t h e model." He wanted t o comprehend Nature "from t h e p o i n t o f v i e w o f t h e p i c t u r e . " T h i s comprehension was brought about by " t i m e " and 6 7 by " r e f l e c t i o n ; " w h i c h "modify l i t t l e by l i t t l e our v i s i o n . " From Cezanne's l e t t e r s we can deduce two a p p a r e n t l y con- t r a d i c t o r y - c o n c l u s i o n s : f i r s t - he was n o t a N a t u r a l i s t , second - he i n c r e a s i n g l y t a l k s about N a t u r e a f t e r 1896. T h i s can be u n d e r s t o o d i n t h e l i g h t o f Cezanne's a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h t h e - 156 - a r t i s t i c movements b l o s s o m i n g i n P r o v e n c e , and e s p e c i a l l y i n h i s own town, A i x - e n - P r o v e n c e . I n t h e 1890s, A i x was not a t a l l t h e s t e r e o t y p e o f a p r o - v i n c i a l town i n which n o t h i n g e v e r happens, and t h e r e f o r e t h e p l a c e i n w h i c h Cezanne i s o l a t e d h i m s e l f , presumably t o c r e a t e i n peace, away from i n f l u e n c e s . T h i s i s a myth p r o p a g a t e d by a r t d e a l e r s , b e g i n n i n g o f c o u r s e w i t h V o l l a r d . T h i s k i n d o f t h i n k i n g i s a l s o r e l a t e d t o t h e e r r o n e o u s assumption t h a t e v e r y t h i n g i m p o r t a n t i n c u l t u r a l movements i s l o c a l i z e d i n t h e c a p i t a l . c i t y , i s " c e n t r a l i z e d . " I t so happened t h a t a t t h e t i m e P r o v e n c e , and p a r t i c u l a r l y A i x , was t h e c e n t e r o f what was named "the P r o v i n c i a l R e n a i s s a n c e , " w h i c h had c l o s e t i e s w i t h 6 8 b o t h t h e " C l a s s i c a l R e n a i s s a n c e " and N a t u r i s m . I t was a l s o p a r t o f t h e g e n e r a l p i c t u r e o f t h e "French R e n a i s s a n c e , " t h e n a t i o n a l i s t i c o u t b u r s t provoked by t h e D r e y f u s A f f a i r . As Decaudin has p o i n t e d o u t , t h e p r o v i n c e s had an i n c r e a s i n g r o l e d u r i n g the T h i r d R e p u b l i c i n F r a n c e , and a t t h e same time i t was t h e r e t h a t t h e r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t , t h e decadent and S y m b o l i s t movements, as w e l l as a g a i n s t " f o r e i g n i m p o r t s " was p a r t i c u l a r l y s t r o n g . E s p e c i a l l y i n the South, t h i s r e a c t i o n "took t h e form 6 9 o f a r e f e r e n c e t o t h e L a t i n g e n i u s and M e d i t e r r a n e a n l i g h t . " I n 1896 Cezanne began a c l o s e f r i e n d s h i p w i t h Joachim Gasquet, a prominent f i g u r e i n t h e r e v i v a l o f p o e t r y i n t h e South.of F r a n c h , who i n t h e l a s t few y e a r s o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y a t t e m p t e d a s y n t h e s i s between C l a s s i c i s m ( r e p r e s e n t e d by C h a r l e s Maurras and t h e E c o l e Romane) and N a t u r i s m . " 7 0 Gasquet was t h e son o f one o f Cezanne's o l d f r i e n d s and t h e y had many t h i n g s i n - 157 - common: C a t h o l i c i s m , l o v e f o r Provence and f o r t h e L a t i n h e r i - 71 tage and presumably a n t i - D r e y f u s i s m . Cezanne's l e t t e r s t o Gasquet, o r t o o t h e r young f r i e n d s o f t h e l a t t e r , show c l e a r l y t h e p a i n t e r ' s sympathy toward what he c a l l e d "the r e n e w a l o f 72 A r t w h i c h awakens i n P r o v e n c e . " A l s o , t h e l e t t e r t o Gasquet's f a t h e r c o u l d not l e a v e any doubt: He (Gasquet.], Madame Gasquet and h i s f r i e n d s , have t h e f u t u r e on t h e i r s i d e . I a s s o c i a t e m y s e l f w i t h a l l my h e a r t w i t h t h e movement i n t h e a r t s w h i c h t h e y r e p r e s e n t and t o w h i c h t h e y g i v e i t s c h a r a c t e r . The movement Gasquet r e p r e s e n t e d was a r i g h t - w i n g movement, c o r r e s p o n d i n g on the l i t e r a r y p l a n e to> the r i g h t - w i n g p o l i t i c a l r e a c t i o n o f C a t h o l i c s and M o n a r c h i s t s . T h i s was a r e a c t i o n a r y movement d e v e l o p e d under t h e t r i p l e banner o f C a t h o l i c i s m , L a t i n t r a d i t i o n , and r e g i o n a l i s m o r d e c e n t r a l i z a t i o n . L i k e t h e N e o - C l a s s i c i s t s , Gasquet and h i s c i r c l e b e l i e v e d i n t h e n e c e s s i t y o f s o c i a l o r d e r r e f l e c t e d i n an a r t i s t i c p r o d u c t i o n t h a t would s u p p o r t t h a t o r d e r . Gasquet's " c l a s s i c i s m " has t o be u n d e r s t o o d i n a v e r y wide sense, s i n c e i t was encumbered by l y r i c i s m and r o m a n t i c i s m . As M a r c e l Raymond p o i n t e d o u t , t h i s C l a s s i c i s m meant an a r t d o c t r i n e , as w e l l as an e t h i c , 74 based on o r d e r and r e a s o n . I n t h e f i r s t i s s u e o f h i s Pays de F r a n c e , Gasquet wrote i n 1899.. the f o l l o w i n g l i n e s : " S i j e b r i s e 1'ordre des c h o s e s , l e sang de D i e u c o u l e r a . I I y a une r a i s o n dans l e s choses. Je d o i s me conformer." He a l s o added: " L ' a r t q u i s ' i n s p i r e de ces p r i n c i p e s a une p o r t e s o c i a l e . I I rend v i s i b l e l a l o i de l a r a i s o n . . . , " and: "Nous 75 avons l e c u l t e de l a R a i s o n . " I n the same p i e c e o f w r i t i n g Gasquet a l s o e x p r e s s e d h i s a l l e g i a n c e t o N a t u r i s m : - 158 - L ' a r t que nous v o u l o n s , c e l u i que M . V . i o l l i s p r o p o s a i t d ' a p p e l e r n a t u r i s m e . . . c e l u i q u i exprime l e s d e s i r s de t o u t e une g e n e r a t i o n . . . c e t a r t a su f a i r e de l a m a t i e r e un e t r e moral,, dans l ' u n i v e r s i l a su t r o u v e r l e s d i e u x . 7 ^ Gasquet a l r e a d y p r a i s e d N a t u r i s m i n Les Mois P o r e s , t h e magazine he p u b l i s h e d , i n A i x between 1896-1897. I n J a n u a r y 1897 he pub- l i s h e d the e s s a y "Notes pour s e r v i r a l ' h i s t o i r e de n a t u r i s m e , " i n w h i c h he c r i t i c i z e d t h e S y m b o l i s t s , w i t h t h e e x c e p t i o n o f 77 Mallarme f o r whom he had a h i g h r e g a r d . Cezanne's recommendation t o l e a r n from t h e " g r e a t m a s t e r s " b u t t o ̂ v i v i f y " t h i s l e s s o n "by t h e way o f n a t u r e " has N a t u r i s t 7 8 o v e r t o n e s . A l s o , Gasquet's way o f t h i n k i n g when he s a y s , "A sa p l a c e t o u t e s t beau. I I y a une h i e r a r c h i e dans l e monde. L ' a r t n a t u r i s t e ne n e g l i g e r i e n . La ou j e s u i s , de l a j e p u i s c o n t e m p l e r l ' u n i v e r s , " has resonances w i t h Cezanne's l i n e s : Here on the bank o f t h e r i v e r the m o t i f s m u l t i p l y , t h e same s u b j e c t seen from a d i f f e r e n t a n g l e o f f e r s s u b j e c t f o r s t u d y o f t h e most p o w e r f u l i n t e r e s t and so v a r i e d t h a t I t h i n k I c o u l d occupy m y s e l f f o r months w i t h o u t c h a n g i n g p l a c e , by t u r n i n g now more t o t h e r i g h t , now more t o the left.™ John Rewald, i n my o p i n i o n , went out o f h i s way t o demon- s t r a t e how u n i m p o r t a n t t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p Cezanne-Gasquet was f o r t h e p a i n t e r i n h i s book Cezanne, G e f f r o y e t Gasquet. Rewald i s b i a s e d toward an i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f Cezanne, as N a t u r a l i s t . W h i l e i t i s t r u e t h a t Gasquet i s not a r e l i a b l e w i t n e s s (but who w a s ? ) , n e v e r t h e l e s s h i s f r i e n d s h i p was i m p o r t a n t a t the t i m e f o r Cezanne, as i s e v i d e n t from h i s l e t t e r s . Rewalds t h i n k s t h a t G e f f r o y (who as we have seen c o n s i d e r e d Cezanne s o r t o f a r e a l i s t manque) u n d e r s t o o d t h e p a i n t e r much b e t t e r t h a n Gasquet, who among o t h e r t h i n g s d w e l t t o o much on Cezanne - 159 - r e v e a l i n g "the s o u l o f Provence." Y e t , w h i l e Cezanne was angered by G e f f r o y ' s a r t i c l e o f 1895 on him and d i d n o t thank him, he had t h i s t o say t o Gasquet who j u s t mentioned Cezanne i n one o f h i s a r t i c l e s , i n w h i c h he i m p l i e d Cezanne r e n d e r e d "the s o u l o f Provence": Having r e a d t h e superb l i n e s i n w h i c h you e x a l t t h e P r o v e n c a l b l o o d , I cannot g e t m y s e l f t o keep s i l e n t , as though I found m y s e l f i n t h e p r e s e n c e o f an u n f o r t u n a t e , a v u l g a r G e f f r o y . 8 0 I n 1903 Gasquet p u b l i s h e d h i s Chants s e c u l a i r e s , w i t h a p r e f a c e by h i s "master" L o u i s B e r t r a n d . T h i s p r e f a c e was d e s c r i b e d as a " m a n i f e s t o i n f a v o u r o f a Medfteraneean and C l a s s i c a l 81 p o e t r y . 1 1 Cezanne seemed t o agree w i t h B e r t r a n d , s i n c e he made t h i s comment about h i s p r e f a c e : The a r t i s t i c movement w h i c h L o u i s B e r t r a n d c h a r a c t e r i z e s so w e l l i n h i s f i n e p r e f a c e , which p r e - cedes t h e 'Chants: S e c u l a i r e s * j i s f u l l o f d e t e r m i n a t i o n . March on and you w i l l c o n t i n u e t o open f o r t h e a r t s a new r o a d l e a d i n g t o t h e C a p i t o l . Your d e v o t e d c o m p a t r i o t and a d m i r e r , 8 2 P a u l Cezanne B e r t r a n d c r i t i c i z e d b o t h t h e Romantic and t h e N a t u r a l i s t move- ments o f t h e 19th c e n t u r y . He advocated t h e r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f A r t and L i f e w i t h i n a C l a s s i c a l I d e a l . He wanted t o e x c l u d e from "the r e a l " ( l e r e e l ) e v e r y t h i n g t h a t was not c h a r a c t e r i z e d by " o r d e r , harmony and b e a u t y , " e v e r y t h i n g t h a t was "amorphic, 8 3 i n o r g a n i c , monstrous." B e r t r a n d c o n s i d e r e d t h a t t h e r o l e o f a r t i s t o p l e a s e and t o i n s t r u c t . (Compare w i t h Cezanne's d e s i r e f o r " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t , " " d e c o r a t i v e m a s t e r s " and h i s o p i n i o n t h a t p i c t u r e s s h o u l d be "an e d u c a t i o n . " ) He s t r o n g l y emphasized t h e L a t i n t r a d i t i o n i n g e n e r a l and t h e F r e n c h one i n p a r t i c u l a r (and a p p e a l e d t o t h e L a t i n w o r l d , as h e i r o f - 160 - c i v i l i z a t i o n , t o f i g h t the "new B a r b a r i a n s , " t h e Anglo-Germans). , One o f t h e e r r o r s o f t h e Romantics was, a c c o r d i n g t o B e r t r a n d , t h e l o v e f o r e x o t i c i s m and a d m i r a t i o n o f f o r e i g n a r t . Gasquet h i m s e l f , w h i l e g u i l t y o f Romantic e f f u s i o n , s h a r e d many o f B e r t r a n d ' s p o i n t s o f v i e w , such as t h e e x c l u s i v e p r a i s e o f t h e L a t i n t r a d i t i o n . T h i s e x p l a i n s why he would l a t e r be so i n - s i s t e n t i n d e n y i n g any i n f l u e n c e s t h a t were n o t F r e n c h o r a t l e a s t L a t i n i n Cezanne's work. He s p e c i f i c a l l y r e f e r r e d t o C h i n e s e o r Japanese a r t ( w h i l e a d m i t t i n g though t h a t Cezanne 84 had r e a d Goncourt's books on Utamaro and H o k u s a i ) . C o n s i d e r i n g t h e i n t e l l e c t u a l ambiance i n w h i c h Cezanne l i v e d and w i t h w h i c h he i n t e r a c t e d , i t i s u n d e r s t a n d a b l e t h a t he was a l r e a d y p r e p a r e d , o r prone t o be r e c e p t i v e t o some o f t h e i d e a s o f t h e N e o - C l a s s i c i s t s E m i l e B e r n a r d and M a u r i c e D e n i s when he f i n a l l y met them. On t h e o t h e r hand, i f Cezanne s u p p o r t e d w i t h " a l l h i s h e a r t " t h e r e n e w a l o f a r t i n h i s b e l o v e d Provence, t h i s d i d n o t mean he agreed t o t a l l y w i t h t h e p o l i t i c a l v i e w s o f Gasquet and h i s c i r c l e ( t h e i r f r i e n d s h i p a c t u a l l y c o o l e d i n t h e p a i n t e r ' s l a t e r y e a r s ) ; nor d i d i t mean t h a t he agreed w i t h t h e p o l i t i c a l r e a s o n s b e h i n d t h e N e o - C l a s s i c a l movement o f t h e e a r l y 1900s, and t h e r e t r o g r a d e a e s t h e t i c s which were t h e i r r e s u l t . Cezanne met B e r n a r d i n 1904 and Denis i n 1906. W i t h B e r n a r d he c o r r e s p o n d e d u n t i l h i s d e a t h . But i f they were i n agreement on t h e o l d M a s t e r s t h e y admired, i t i s o b v i o u s from Cezanne's l e t t e r s t h a t t h e N a t u r e / A r t r e l a t i o n s h i p was t h e bone o f con- t e n t i o n between them. Cezanne f e l t c o m p e l l e d t o emphasize o v e r and o v e r t h e d i r e c t c o n t a c t w i t h n a t u r e , because B e r n a r d would not a c c e p t p a i n t i n g i n f r o n t o f a m o t i f (even i f i t d i d n o t mean - 161 - a f a i t h f u l copy),. b u t p a i n t i n g n a t u r e t h r o u g h t h e eyes o f the M a s t e r s he admired, o r as he p u t i t , a c c o r d i n g t o t h e "laws" 8 5 t h e y " e x t r a c t e d " from n a t u r e . Cezanne, who d i d n o t waste much time t h e o r i z i n g , and d i d n o t s h a r e B e r n a r d ' s e x t r e m e l y r e a c t i o n a r y i d e o l o g y , e x a s p e r a t e d , wrote t o h i s son not l o n g b e f o r e h i s d e a t h : I am s e n d i n g you a l e t t e r t h a t I have j u s t r e c e i v e d from E m i l i o B e r n a r d i n o s , one o f the most d i s t i n g u i s h e d a e s t h e t e s . I am s o r r y not t o have him under my thumb so as t o i n s t i l i n t o him t h e i d e a so sane, so c o m f o r t i n g and the o n l y c o r r e c t one, o f a development o f a r t t h r o u g h c o n t a c t w i t h n a t u r e . . . i n h i s drawings he produces n o t h i n g but o l d - f a s h i o n e d r u b b i s h w h i c h smacks o f h i s a r t i s t i c dreams, based not on t h e e m o t i o n a l e x p e r i e n c e o f n a t u r e b u t on what he has been a b l e t o see i n t h e museums, and more s t i l l on a p h i l o s o p h i c a t t i t u d e o f mind w h i c h comes from h i s e x c e s s i v e knowledge o f the m a s t e r s he admires.86 The f a c t t h a t Cezanne t a l k s so much about N a t u r e toward t h e end o f h i s l i f e does not prove t h a t he was a N a t u r a l i s t . The r e t u r n t o Nature had been a d v o c a t e d s i n c e t h e mid-1890s by t h e a n t i - S y m b o l i s t r e a c t i o n and i t was t h e common ground f o r N a t u r i s t s , C l a s s i c i s t s , o r any c o m b i n a t i o n o f the two move- ments, such as embodied i n Gasquet. "Pure p a i n t i n g " was a l s o an " e x t e r n a l " a r t , r o o t e d i n the m a t e r i a l w o r l d , even though i t was " a b s t r a c t i n g " t h i s w o r l d (thus Denis was s t i l l r e - f e r r i n g t o i t as an a r t o f " i m i t a t i o n " ) . Cezanne's l e t t e r s o n l y prove t h a t he was v e r y much i n t o u c h w i t h t h e a r t i s t i c movements o f h i s own t i m e , w i t h t h e young g e n e r a t i o n . A week b e f o r e h i s death Cezanne w r o t e : " I t h i n k t h e young p a i n t e r s a r e much more i n t e l l i g e n t t h a n t h e 8 7 o t h e r s , t h e o l d ones see i n me o n l y a d i s a s t r o u s r i v a l . " - 162 - 3) D e s i r e t o be a d e c o r a t o r . Cezanne m a n i f e s t e d an i n t e r e s t i n d e c o r a t i o n a t an e a r l y s t a g e o f h i s c a r e e r . H i s f i r s t work i s c o n s i d e r e d t o be a s c r e e n r e p r e s e n t i n g an 1 8 t h c e n t u r y p a s t o r a l (V.3, 1858-60)- F i g . 10. The r i g h t p a r t o f t h e s c r e e n was based on a work by 88 L a n c r e t . The back o f t h e s c r e e n ( V . l - 2 ) - F i g . 1 1 c o n s i s t s o f " g r o t e s q u e " d e c o r a t i o n s i n the v e i n o f B e r a i n ( a f t e r whose models the T a p e s t r y Museum i n A i x has s i x Grotesques t a p e s t r i e s ) . I remind the r e a d e r t h a t " g r o t e s q u e s " are "arabesques" which i n - c l u d e i n t h e i r d e s i g n t h e human f i g u r e . I t i s n o t s u r p r i s i n g t h a t Cezanne was one o f t h e f i r s t (as Lecomte n o t i c e d ) t o i n - t r o d u c e t h e "arabesques" i n h i s p a i n t i n g s . Cezanne " r e f e r r e d " t o t h i s s c r e e n i n s e v e r a l l a t e r p a i n t i n g s , such as P e a s a n t w i t h a B l u e B l o u s e (V.687, 1890-92) and v a r i o u s s t i l l l i f e s , t h e e a r l i e r one b e i n g The P l a t e o f A p p l e s (V. 207, c. 1876) - where he used as a d e c o r a t i v e background a blown-up v e r s i o n o f one o f t h e m o t i f s on t h e back o f the 1858-60 s c r e e n , i n w h i c h a l l the o t h e r o b j e c t s i n t h e p i c t u r e are w e l l i n t e g r a t e d . (For t h e o t h e r p i c t u r e s i n w h i c h he r e f e r s t o t h i s s c r e e n see Th. R e f f , "The 89 P i c t u r e s W i t h i n Cezanne's P i c t u r e s " ) . As R e f f remarked, t h i s s c r e e n had a "unique s i g n i f i c a n c e " f o r Cezanne, because he had d e c o r a t e d i t h i m s e l f . I would add he wanted t o i l l u s t r a t e t h e c o n t i n u i t y i n h i s d e c o r a t i v e i n t e n t i o n s . I t i s a l s o i n t e r e s t i n g t o note t h a t the f r o n t p a r t o f the s c r e e n s i m u l a t e s a t a p e s t r y , w i t h i t s b o r d e r t h a t , as R e f f n o t i c e d , was p r o b a b l y i n s p i r e d by t h e F l e m i s h t a p e s t r y i n t h e C a t h e d r a l o f A i x . That p a r t i c u l a r t a p e s t r y i s a 15th c. one, but Cezanne's s c r e e n l o o k s l i k e an 1 8 t h c. t a p e s t r y . - 163 - I n t h e 1860s, Cezanne p a i n t e d m u r a l s ( w a i l - p a i n t i n g s l a t e r t r a n s f e r r e d t o canvas) such as The Four" Seasons (V.4-7) and the p a i r C h r i s t i n Limbo (V.84, a f t e r a r e p r o d u c t i o n of t h e p a i n t i n g i n t h e Prado by S e b a s t i a n o d e l Piombo i n one o f Ch. B l a n c ' s books, where i t was a t t r i b u t e d t o N a v a r e t t e ) and Sorrow o r Mary Magdalen (V. 8 6 ) . Gasquet s a i d l a t e r t h a t Cezanne would have l i k e d t o "cover w a l l s " w i t h huge p a i n t i n g s , and q u o t i n g E m i l e S o l a r i (the son o f Cezanne's f r i e n d ) , he s p e c i f i e d he 90 would have l i k e d " t o d e c o r a t e f a c a d e s as a V e n e t i a n . " That h i s i d o l s were "the g r e a t d e c o r a t i v e masters Veronese and ' 91 Rubens," and he admired t h e V e n e t i a n s we know t o be t r u e . As opposed t o h i s I m p r e s s i o n i s t c o l l e a g u e s , who as I i n d i c a t e d , wanted t o be " d e c o r a t i v e " b u t d i d not a c c e p t t h e s t a t u s o f " d e c o r a t o r s , " CSzanne d i d not mind r e n o u n c i n g t h e s t a t u s o f 92 " t a b l e a u maker." The f a c t he d i d not p a i n t l a r g e murals was p r o b a b l y due t o the f a c t t h a t nobody commissioned them, as G e f f r o y i m p l i e d . J o s s e and Gaston Bernheim - Jeune, r e l a t e d t h a t a t t h e time when G a r n i e r j u s t f i n i s h e d t h e c o n s t r u c t i o n o f t h e new P a r i s Opera, P i s s a r r o t r i e d t o c o n v i n c e H a l a n z i e r , t h e d i r e c t o r o f t h e Opera, t o commission Cezanne t h e p i c t o r i a l 93 d e c o r a t i o n o f t h e b u i l d i n g . The o n l y commission t o d e c o r a t e t h a t Cezanne r e c e i v e d came from Chocquet, f o r whom he e x e c u t e d i n 1890 t h e p a i r La barque e t l e s b a i g n e u r s (V. 583) and La vasque au paon (V. 584), b o t h 30 x 124 cm., p r o b a b l y as o v e r - d o o r s . The t h r e e l a r g e p a i n t i n g s o f b a t h e r s (V.719 - 21) done i n t h e l a s t y e a r s o f h i s l i f e r e p r e s e n t an attempt t o f u l f i l l a l i f e l o n g dream, t h e c r e a t i o n o f monumental p a i n t i n g s w i t h nudes, l i k e t h e o l d d e c o r a t i v e m a s t e r s . I t seems Cezanne - 164 - b e l i e v e d i n a h i e r a r c h y among v a r i o u s branches o f d e c o r a t i o n , 9 4 t h o u g h , w i t h p a i n t i n g o c c u p y i n g the f i r s t p l a c e . B. Do Cezanne's P a i n t i n g s F i t t h e " D e c o r a t i o n Paradigm"? From C h a p t e r I , P a r t 1, i t i s e v i d e n t t h a t i n t h e l a t e 1870s and a l l t h r o u g h the 1880s, most non-academic a u t h o r i t i e s i n mural d e c o r a t i o n (whether t a p e s t r y , m o s a i c , o r d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g ) a d v o c a t e d r o u g h l y t h e f o l l o w i n g r u l e s : t h e absence o f t r o m p e - 1 ' o e i l , t h e l a c k (or a l m o s t complete l a c k ) o f l i n e a r and a t m o s p h e r i c p e r s p e c t i v e e f f e c t , summary m o d e l l i n g , a l a r g e and s i m p l e f a c t u r e , u n i t y i n c o l o u r i n g ( f o r a " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t " i n s t e a d o f " c h i a r o s c u r o e f f e c t " ) , b a l a n c e d masses, a b b r e v i a t i o n i n d r a w i n g and emphasis on t h e c o n t o u r s (which d i d n o t have t o be n e c e s s a r i l y u n i n t e r r u p t e d ) f o r c l a r i t y , rhythm i n com- p o s i t i o n , as w e l l as a c o m p o s i t i o n t h a t l e a v e s v e r y few f r e e s p a c e s . Of c o u r s e " o r d e r " was c o n s i d e r e d "the s o v e r e i g n law o f the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , " as B l a n c s a i d ( p o i n t i n g out t h a t t h i s " o p t i c a l o r d e r " i s m i s s i n g i n n a t u r e ) , a l l o w i n g a t the same 9 5 time f o r a " d e c o r a t i v e c o n f u s i o n . " I n t h e s e k i n d s o f mural d e c o r a t i o n (I am n o t r e f e r r i n g t o w a l l p a p e r s o r p o s t e r s ) , the w r i t e r s o f t h i s p e r i o d agreed upon p r e s e r v i n g t h e "Western t r a d i t i o n " ( V i o l l e t - l e - D u c d i e d i n 1879, and Havard g r u d g i n g l y a l l o w e d some " r e l i e f " ) . The Japanese a - p l a t (of t h e i r u k i y o - e ) was n o t recommended. Cezanne's "mature p a i n t i n g s " o b v i o u s l y f e a t u r e a l l t h e above-mentioned c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s . The "Western t r a d i t i o n " i s a l s o p r e s e n t w i t h r e s p e c t t o m o d e l l i n g , a c h i e v e d o f t e n t h r o u g h c o l o u r g r a d a t i o n s t h a t i n c l u d e d "passages," (from one s c a l e t o 9 6 a n o t h e r ) as B l a n c f o r example recommended. To say though, - 165. - as Gasquet d i d , t h a t Cezanne was n o t a t a l l i n f l u e n c e d by O r i e n t a l a r t s i s not c o r r e c t . I n f a c t , c o n s i d e r i n g t h e t i m e he l i v e d and the c i r c l e s o f a r t i s t s and c o l l e c t o r s he was a s s o - c i a t e d w i t h , i t would have been i m p o s s i b l e not t o be i n f l u e n c e d . One of. t h e b e s t examples o f "Japonlsme" i n Cezanne's work i s O u v e r t u r e to. Tannhauser - F i g . 1, a l r e a d y mentioned, p a i n t e d p r o b a b l y i n 1868. I f i t i s t r u e t h a t l a t e r on he d i d not use f l a t t i n t s , he c e r t a i n l y used s o l u t i o n s o f f e r e d by t h e O r i e n t a l a r t s f o r a v o i d i n g l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e and f o r making c o l o u r " v i b r a t e > " as Ch. B l a n c a l s o recommended, and p o s s i b l y a few " c o m p o s i t i o n a l t r i c k s " w h i c h I w i l l p o i n t out l a t e r . But w i t h r e s p e c t t o m o d e l l i n g ( i n d i v i d u a l o b j e c t s , as w e l l as the p i c t u r e as a w h o l e ) , i n h i s mature work Cezanne i s c l o s e r t o F r e n c h s o u r c e s o f i n s p i r a t i o n . I n s t e a d o f Japanese p r i n t s , the F r e n c h " n a t i o n a l " d e c o r a t i v e a r t o f t a p e s t r y , from t h e most F r e n c h p e r i o d - t h e Rococo, p r o v i d e d the b e s t s o l u t i o n f o r a d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g t h a t w h i l e i t p r e s e r v e d t h e f l a t n e s s o f t h e w a l l , m a i n t a i n e d a degree o f m o d e l l i n g , o f r e l i e f . The comparison w i t h t a p e s t r y was o f t e n made by Cezanne's c o n t e m p o r a r i e s (see Ch. I I , P a r t 1 ) . Denis and B e r n a r d remarked p r e c i s e l y on the s i m i l a r i t y between Cezanne's " c o l o r m o d u l a t i o n s " and t h e i r t a p e s t r y c o u n t e r p a r t , and t h e y d i d not mean t h i s as f l a t t e r y a t t h e t i m e . I n h i s "Cezanne's C o n s t r u c t i v e S t r o k e " o f 1962, . Theodore R e f f remarked t h a t t h e " p a t t e r n o f f i n e p a r a l l e l s t r o k e s " t h a t CSzanne i n t r o d u c e d i n t h e l a t e 1 8 7 0 s - e a r l y 1880s, 97 resembled t h e "weave i n some c o s t l y t a p e s t r y . " In h i s c h a p t e r i n t h e 1978 C a t a l o g o f t h e Cezanne e x h i b i t i o n R e f f mentioned t h a t t h i s a n a l o g y a l r e a d y drawn by t h e p a i n t e r ' s - 166 - c o n t e m p o r a r i e s i s a " f a m i l i a r theme i n t h e l i t e r a t u r e on 98 Cezanne." But he d i d not pursue the p r o b l e m any f u r t h e r . I suggest t h i s a n a l o g y i s not s i m p l y a metaphor. As i s e v i d e n t from t h e C h a p t e r I , P a r t 1, t h e r e was a r e v i v a l o f i n t e r e s t i n t h e t a p e s t r y i n l a t e 1870s and e a r l y 1880s. There was an i n t e r e s t i n o l d M e d i e v a l t a p e s t r i e s as w e l l as Rococo (the c o l l e c t o r s were e s p e c i a l l y i n t e r e s t e d i n the l a s t k i n d because o f t h e i r " d e c o r a t i v e " q u a l i t i e s ) . A t t h e same t i m e , i n t h e wake o f t h e e x h i b i t i o n p u t up by t h e Union C e n t r a l e i n 1876, many a r t p u b l i c a t i o n s d e v o t e d many pages t o t h e h i s t o r y o f t a p e s t r y and t o t h e d e f i n i t i o n o f i t s "laws" (as d e c o r a t i o n ) . A l s o a new k i n d o f " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " t h a t . . 99 i m i t a t e s t a p e s t r y was proposed i n 1877. A l l t h i s c o i n c i d e s i n an uncanny way w i t h Cezanne d e v e l o p i n g h i s new method. There i s no q u e s t i o n o f c o u r s e o f Cezanne a c t u a l l y c o p y i n g t a p e s t r y (even when some o f t h e b e s t specimens of B e a u v a i s t a p e s t r y were i n A i x ) , x ^ but r a t h e r o f h i s e x t r a c t i n g g e n e r a l methods. A f t e r a l l , as t h e Goncourt b r o t h e r s p o i n t e d out (a f a c t brought up by D e n i s a l s o i n h i s a r t i c l e on C e z a n n e ) f C h a r d i n ' s method c o u l d a l s o be connected w i t h t a p e s t r y o r m o s a i c . C e z a n n e ' s i n t e r e s t b o t h i n t h e Goncourts and i n 102 C h a r d i n i s known from h i s l e t t e r s . I n t h e framework o f "Western t r a d i t i o n , " m u r a l p a i n t i n g as t r u e d e c o r a t i o n was r e l a t e d t o t a p e s t r y - d e c o r a t i o n r a t h e r t h a n t o M e d i e v a l m a n u s c r i p t i l l u m u n a t i o n , as V i o l l e t - l e - D u c would have had i t . Chesneau f o r example, c l e a r l y a s s i g n e d m u r a l p a i n t i n g a r o l e " h i g h e r b u t s i m i l a r " t o t h a t p l a y e d 103 by t a p e s t r y i n t h e p a s t , i n t h e d e c o r a t i o n o f p a l a c e s . - 167 - Among e x t a n t t a p e s t r i e s , t h e Rococo ones p r o v i d e d a p r a c t i c a l example c l o s e enough t o t h e d e s i r e d a s p e c t o f a " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g , " because of t h e i r d e c o r a t i v e " t a p e s t r y e f f e c t . " They were not i m i t a t i o n s o f t a b l e a u x w i t h s t r o n g c h i a r o s c u r o e f f e c t , b u t o f " d e c o r a t i v e " t a b l e a u x , and even then " 1 1 e f f e t - p e i n t u r e " was t r a n s p o s e d i n " e f f e c t - t a p i s s e r i e , " t h a t i s i n a h i g h e r s c a l e 104 o f t o n e s . But even i n t h e s e t h e m o d e l l i n g was t o o s u b t l e f o r t h e summary m o d e l l i n g now d e s i r e d b o t h i n t a p e s t r y and i n " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g . " The m o d e l l i n g by h a t c h i n g , used i n the M e d i e v a l t a p e s t r y was v e r y much recommended i n t h e l a t e 18 70s 105 and i n 1880s f o r t a p e s t r y c a r t o o n s . (18th c. t a p e s t r i e s used s t i l l f i n e r h a t c h i n g , even though i t was somewhat s u p e r f l u o u s , due t o t h e i r b e t t e r c o l o u r t e c h n i q u e s . ) The t h e o r e t i c a l w r i t i n g s t h a t l a i d out t h e r u l e s f o r f u t u r e t a p e s t r y c a r t o o n s , e s p e c i a l l y t h e w r i t i n g s of C h e v r e u l and C h a r l e s B l a n c , p r o v i d e d even b e t t e r , modern s o l u t i o n s , t h a n an 4- +- * . 4- 106 e x t a n t t a p e s t r y . Cezanne in.' i n t r o d u c i n g " h a t c h i n g " i n the l a t e 1870s i n t o h i s o i l p a i n t i n g s (such as L ' E t e r n e l f e m i n i n , V.247 o r t h e S t i l l L i f e i n F i g . 8, V.341, 1879-82, t h a t b e l o n g e d t o Gauguin) p a r a l l e l s t h e advocacy o f h a t c h i n g i n t a p e s t r y . In t a p e s t r y o n l y the v e r t i c a l d i r e c t i o n i s p o s s i b l e f o r h a t c h i n g . The d i a g o n a l d i r e c t i o n d i d p r o b a b l y come n a t u r a l l y t o Cezanne, s i n c e he was used t o t h e method o f r a p i d d i a g o n a l h a t c h i n g i n 107 d r a w i n g s , as R e f f s u g g e s t e d . But why d i d he d e c i d e t o use h a t c h i n g as a m o d e l l i n g d e v i c e i n h i s o i l p a i n t i n g p r e c i s e l y i n t h e l a t e 1870s - e a r l y 1880s? I do not t h i n k t h a t a t t h a t p a r t i c u l a r time he wanted h i s p a i n t i n g t o l o o k l i k e a t a p e s t r y - 168 - b u t t h a t he was l o o k i n g f o r s o l u t i o n s t o such problems a s : a summary m o d e l l i n g t h a t a t the same .time a l l o w s f o r o r d e r , c l a r i t y , and harmony o f c o l o r . As I mentioned b e f o r e , i n the e a r l y 1880s P i s a r r o was a l s o l o o k i n g f o r ways o f i n t r o d u c i n g " o r d e r " i n t o h i s p a i n t i n g s , as i s e v i d e n t from La Cote du Chou a P o n t o i s e o f 108 1882. P i s s a r r o d e v e l o p e d h i s r e g u l a r "comma s t r o k e s " and seemed i n t e r e s t e d i n o p t i c a l m i x i n g o f c o n t r a s t i n g hues ( r e d and green i n t h i s p i c t u r e ) , f o r a more o r d e r e d " I m p r e s s i o n i s t e f f e c t " i n f a c t , (which i n s p i r e d t h e f u t u r e N e o - I m p r e s s i o n i s t s whom he would a c t u a l l y j o i n l a t e r i n t h e 1880s). Cezanne was i n - t e r e s t e d o b v i o u s l y i n an " e f f e c t " t h a t w h i l e s t i l l " d e c o r a t i v e , " a l l o w e d a b e t t e r way o f c l e a r l y d e f i n i n g s o l i d shapes, as r e q u i r e d i n an " a r c h i t e c t u r a l " d e c o r a t i o n . T h i s i s e v i d e n t i n p i c t u r e s a t t r i b u t e d t o t h e p e r i o d 1882-1885, such as Rocks a t L'Estague. (V.404) - F i g . 12 o r House i n Provence (V.397) - F i g . 13. We know from h i s l e t t e r s t h a t a t t h e time he e l a b o r - a t e d t h i s p a t i e n t , o r d e r e d method, based on i n d i v i d u a l u n i t s , o f " m o d u l a t i n g " r e l i e f s i n c o l o r , Cezanne was i n t e r e s t e d i n the s c i e n c e , o f "harmony." There was no b e t t e r F r e n c h a u t h o r i t y a t the time i n t h i s f i e l d (as f a r as c o l o r was concerned) t h a n the c h e m i s t M.E. C h e v r e u l who worked f o r the G o b e l i n s . H i s i n - f l u e n c e on D e l a c r o i x and S e u r a t . i s w e l l , known. I t i s q u i t e l i k e l y Cezanne's i n t e r e s t b o t h i n D e l a c r o i x and i n a s c i e n t i f i c t r e a t m e n t o f harmony o f c o l o r s , b r o u g h t him i n c o n t a c t w i t h C h e v r e u l ' s book De l a l o i du c o n t r a s t e s i m u l t a n e des c o u l e u r s , f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n 1839. Even though he was o f t e n blamed f o r c o n t r i b u t i n g t o the e x e c u t i o n o f t ape s t r y - 1 a b l e au i n t h e 1 9 t h c e n t u r y , i t i s not t r u e t h a t C h e v r e u l s u p p o r t e d t h i s c o n c e p t , - 169 - 109 as Ch. B l a n c a l s o emphasized. C h e v r e u l proposed f o r p a i n t i n g s i n t e n d e d t o s e r v e as models f o r t a p e s t r y a more r u d i m e n t a r y method o f m o d e l l i n g , an i n t e r m e d i a t e system be- tween c h i a r o s c u r o , and f l a t t i n t s ( f o r w h i c h he gave as t y p i c a l example "the windows o f G o t h i c c h u r c h e s " ) . The s u b t l e g r a d a t i o n o f nuances was t o be r e p l a c e d by a s u c c e s s i o n o f "monochromous s i n g l e t i n t e d p a r t s , o f a v i s i b l e s i z e . " 1 1 0 I n o t h e r words a s i m p l i f i e d m o d e l l i n g c o u l d be o b t a i n e d by t h e " j u x t a p o s i t i o n o f c o l o r s d i s t i n c t l y s e p a r a t e d , " a q u a n t i f i e d g r a d a t i o n . As I mentioned i n Ch. IT, P a r t 1, B e r n a r d , who was v e r y f a m i l i a r w i t h Cezanne's " c o l o r m o d u l a t i o n s " (see a l s o h i s own v e r s i o n i n t h e l a n d s c a p e o f Pont-Aven o f 1892 - F i g . 6 ) , r e a l i z e d t h a t he was g u i d e d by a "law o f harmony," and t h a t he proceeded as o l d t a p e s t r y weavers i n h i s c o l o u r g r a d a t i o n s and passages from one s c a l e t o a n o t h e r . 1 1 1 The t r a n s i t i o n s g o i n g t h r o u g h t h e whole range o f t o n a l s c a l e s , from one end o f t h e spectrum t o a n o t h e r are a c t u a l l y q u i t e r a r e i n Cezanne's oeuvre. One o f t h e b e s t examples o f a p a i n t i n g t e c h n i q u e t h a t con- s c i o u s l y t r i e s t o i l l u s t r a t e t h e "rainbow" g r a d a t i o n s , not i n a c o n t i n u o u s f a s h i o n , b u t u s i n g t h e method recommended by C h e v r e u l , can be found i n the above-mentioned Rocks a t T'Estaque (V.404), F i g . 12. Among t h e o l d e r t a p e s t r i e s , t h e ones t h a t p r e s e n t a s t r i k i n g s i m i l a r i t y w i t h Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s , are the 18th c e n t u r y F r e n c h t a p e s t r i e s . The m o d e l l i n g of t h e r e l i e f s o f t h e t e r r a i n : , i n the p a i n t i n g s done a t Estaque i n the e a r l y 1880s, i s s i m i l a r f o r example t o t h a t i n Boucher's t a p e s t r y C h i n e s e F i s h i n g P a r t y - p i g . 14 - woven i n s i l k a t B e a u v a i s 112 i n 1758. There i s no o p t i c a l m i x i n g o f c o n t r a s t i n g t o n e s - 170 - i n Boucher, as we o f t e n f i n d i n Cezanne's p a r a l l e l b r u s h s t r o k e s , s i n c e Boucher d i d n o t have t h e b e n e f i t o f C h e v r e u l 1 s r e s e a r c h and a d v i c e . C h e v r e u l d i d recommend such a method w h i c h meant e m p l o y i n g a l t e r n a t i n g t h i n bands o f two hues i n o r d e r t o o b t a i n 113 (when seen from a d i s t a n c e ) a t h i r d one. The method i s a l s o i l l u s t r a t e d i n C h a r l e s B l a n c ' s Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , as an a l t e r n a t i v e t o t h e p o i n t i l l i s t i c method o f o b t a i n i n g o p t i c a l m i x i n g o f c o l o u r s , w h i c h as we know was t h e s o l u t i o n adopted 114 by S e u r a t . The f a c t t h a t Cezanne's p a r a l l e l , " c o n s t r u c t i v e s t r o k e s " as t h e y were c a l l e d by R e f f , f o l l o w a d i a g o n a l 115 d i r e c t i o n , i n s t e a d o f v e r t i c a l as i n t a p e s t r y i s i r r e l e v a n t . As a m a t t e r o f f a c t l a t e r Cezanne abandoned t h i s d i a g o n a l d i r e c t i o n ( i t i s seen i n t h e p a i n t i n g o f t h e 1890s m a i n l y i n f o l i a g e , and even t h e n i t does not have t h e same a n g l e o f i n c l i n a t i o n a l l - o v e r ) o f b r u s h s t r o k e s t h a t have t h e same i n - c l i n a t i o n everywhere on t h e s u r f a c e o f the canvas. The e a r l i e s t l a n d s c a p e t h a t we know, i n w h i c h t h e r e g u l a r , one d i r e c t i o n o n l y , p a r a l l e l b r u s h s t r o k e s c o v e r t h e e n t i r e canvas 116 p r a c t i c a l l y i s Le Chateau de Medan (V.325) o f 1880. T h i s p a i n t i n g used t o be i n the p o s s e s s i o n o f Gauguin, and from i t s d e s c r i p t i o n i t seems t o be the one Gauguin compared l a t e r w i t h 117 " O r i e n t a l s i l k s . " T h i s comparison i s not j u s t a f i g u r e o f speech. Gauguin, l i k e S e u r a t and h i s c i r c l e , was v e r y much i n t e r e s t e d i n the mid-1880s i n what S i g n a c c a l l e d "the O r i e n t a l t r a d i t i o n " ( c o l o r i s t i c t r a d i t i o n i n t i s s u e s and c e r a m i c s ) 118 p r a i s e d by Ch. B l a n c . They a l l r e a d Ch. B l a n c ' s Grammaire des a r t du d e s s i n as f a r as we know, and p r o b a b l y h i s s t u d i e s on D e l a c r o i x , as w e l l as t h e Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s . , - 171 - (Gauguin e s p e c i a l l y , w h i l e w o r k i n g i n C h a p e l e t ' s c e r a m i c s work- shop), i n w h i c h he r a v e d about, t h e " i n s t i n c t i v e . " knowledge o f t h e laws o f c o l o u r e v i d e n t i n O r i e n t a l t i s s u e s and c e r a m i c s . B l a n c s p e c i f i c a l l y r e f e r r e d t o o p t i c a l m i x i n g . o f c o l o u r s , and t o t h e a b i l i t y , t o make even a p p a r e n t l y u n i f o r m monochrome s u r f a c e s 119 " v i b r a t e " t h r o u t h .. " m o d u l a t i o n s " o f t o n e . Cezanne must have r e a d a t l e a s t B l a n c 1 s w r i t i n g s on D e l a c r o i x , because o f h i s 120 i n t e r e s t i n t h a t p a i n t e r , and p r o b a b l y t h e o t h e r s t o o . E i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r y F r e n c h t a p e s t r y (from a p e r i o d when .Chinese, s i l k t a p e s t r i e s and o t h e r t i s s u e s were v e r y p o p u l a r ) a l s o e x h i b i t s b e a u t i f u l c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s , as i s e v i d e n t f o r example i n a d e t a i l from Les amusements de l a C ampagne: L ' A b r e u v o i r by F r a n c o i s Casanova ( B e a u v a i s , 1772) - F i g . 15. Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s o f t h e e a r l y 1880s can be c o n s i d e r e d as h i s most " s y n t h e t i c " ones. They a r e t h e ones i n w h i c h t h e p a r a l l e l b r u s h s t r o k e s " u n i t s " c o v e r the canvas almost e n t i r e l y , r e g a r d l e s s o f t h e s p e c i f i c t e x t u r e o f t h e o b j e c t s r e p r e s e n t e d i n i t , and r e g a r d l e s s o f t h e type o f s u b j e c t - m a t t e r ( l a n d s c a p e , s t i l l l i f e , b a t h e r c o m p o s i t i o n - such as f o r example Three B a t h i n g Women now i n P e t i t P a l a i s , P a r i s , V.381, w h i c h M a t i s s e owned). They l o o k l i k e c l o s e - u p s o f t a p e s t r y d e t a i l s i n w h i c h t h e r e g u l a r t e x t u r e ( u n i f y i n g element) shows. T h i s " S y n t h e t i s m " o f Cezanne, as D e n i s mentioned, i n f l u e n c e d Gauguin and c o u l d be r e l a t e d t o the: " d e c o r a t i v e " s i d e o f Symbolism. C l o i s o n i s m i s a f t e r a l l o n l y a form, a v a r i a n t o f S y n t h e t i s m , and i t i s p o s - s i b l e Gauguin would n o t even had t r i e d t h a t v a r i a n t i n p a i n t i n g i f n o t f o r B e r n a r d . B e r n a r d h i m s e l f was i n f l u e n c e d i n h i s C l o i s o n i s m by Cezanne's e a r l i e r p a i n t i n g s , as w e l l as t h e ones - 172 - i n the 1880s, as i s evident from his S t i l l - L i f e with Tobacco Pot of 1877 - F i g . 3. In any event, the Symbolists paid t r i b u t e to both Puvis and Cezanne, since as Charles Morice pointed out, 121 both applied decoration p r i n c i p l e s to easel painting. The . difference resides only with the s p e c i f i c decorative a r t they took as model: Puvis - pre-Renaissance fresco painting, Cezanne- tapestry, the Cloisonnists - cloisonnee work or stained glass windows. As opposed to the Symbolists, even i f Cezanne's paintings were "Synthetic," they were not completely a r t i f i c i a l , not supernatural. Cezanne's colour i s not "symbolic" (even when a painting i s a l l b l u i s h , he can j u s t i f y t h i s by the " f e e l i n g of a i r " ) , his landscapes are p l a u s i b l e , they look and have the colour of Provence. Later i n the 1880s (around 18 8 5) he might have been influenced by the idea that tapestry imitation i n l i q u i d colours can lead to a new kind of decorative painting. This idea has been expounded i n a book by the painter-decora- tor J u l i e n Godon, La Peinture sur t o i l e et son application a 122 l a decoration i n t e r l e u r e . In paintings such as Aix, Rocky Landscape, i n the National Gallery i n London (V.491, c.1887), or Viaduct and Big Trees (V.452, 1885-87) i n the Metropolitan - F i g . 16, Cezanne began to use a technique s i m i l a r to the one used i n watercolours. His paint i s d i l u t e d for t h i s purpose. Instead of the commercial l i q u i d colours, s p e c i a l l y prepared for t h i s kind of painting (such as the ones advertised by Lechertier, Barbe, & Co. i n the 1879 English t r a n s l a t i o n of Godon"s book), Godon suggested also the use of the regular o i l colours, mixed with essence of turpentine. I t i s known t h a t Cezanne used t h i s p r o c e d u r e . Godon s p e c i f i e d t h a t f o r t h o s e f a m i l i a r w i t h w a t e r c o l o u r t e c h n i q u e , "the use o f l i q u i d 124 c o l o u r s would be s i m p l y a game." Cezanne mastered w a t e r - c o l o u r t e c h n i q u e e a r l y i n h i s c a r e e r . There i s a s e r i e s o f o i l l a n d s c a p e s p a i n t e d i n t h i s t e c h n i q u e , which does not r e v e a l so much t h e c l o s e - u p . t e x t u r e o f a t a p e s t r y as t h e e a r l i e r p a i n t i n g s , b u t g i v e more t h e a s p e c t o f a t a p e s t r y seen from a d i s t a n c e , i n i t s o r d e r and c l a r i t y . As i n t a p e s t r y , t h i s o r d e r l y a s p e c t i s l a r g e l y due t o t h e c r e a t i o n o f "shadow-paths" a l o n g broken c o n - / 125 t o u r s . I n t a p e s t r y t h e broken c o n t o u r s appear due t o i t s s p e c i f i c method o f f a b r i c a t i o n . (Even w i t h o u t an o u t l i n i n g o f t h e c o n t o u r s , a t a p e s t r y g i v e s t h e i m p r e s s i o n o f o u t l i n i n g shapes w i t h a l o s t - a n d - f o u n d . c o n t o u r , due t o i t s s l i t s . ) I n a p a i n t i n g l i k e t h e Mount S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e .with V i a d u c t and B i g Trees - F i g . 16, Cezanne a v o i d e d t h e e f f e c t o f l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e by u s i n g a " b i r d ' s eye view" as i n Japanese p r i n t s . The use o f O r i e n t a l p e r s p e c t i v e was recommended by C h a r l e s B l a n c f o r t a p e s t r y i n h i s Grammaire des a r t s , d e c o r a t i f s . The " t a p e s t r y paradigm" c o n t i n u e s t o f i t Cezanne's p a i n t - i n g s a l l t h r o u g h t h e 1890s, e s p e c i a l l y i n t h e l a n d s c a p e s . F o r o t h e r s u b j e c t - m a t t e r i t i s more a p p r o p r i a t e t o speak o f a "de- c o r a t i o n paradigm" i n g e n e r a l . The s q u a r i s h p a t c h e s and h a t c h - i n g , t h a t can be. connected w i t h the l o o k o f t a p e s t r y , were t o o r i g i d and l i f e l e s s t o r e n d e r a f r u i t o r human f l e s h . In t h e 1880s Cezanne d i d use t h e same t e c h n i q u e , however, r e g a r d l e s s o f the s u b j e c t - m a t t e r (compare f o r example F i g . 8 and F i g . 1 2 ) . I n the 1890s, as we have seen i n Chapter I , P a r t 2 ("D"), t h e r e was a t r e n d toward a r e t u r n t o " l i f e . " As e a r l y as 1893, - 174 - t h e p r e s t i g i o u s j o u r n a l L ' A r t i s t e (which was l e a n i n g toward the j u s t e m i l i e u ) , w h i l e welcoming the new p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h " S t y l e " ( r e l a t e d t o C o r o t and P o u s s i n ) ' was i n tune w i t h o t h e r a n t i - S y m b o l i s t r e a c t i o n s i n c o n s i d e r i n g t h e " i d e i s t " p a i n t e r s t o o remote from l i f e and n a t u r e . R. Bouyer d e c l a r e d : . . . s i l e r e a l i s m e a o u t r a n c e nous a donne l a n o s t a l g i e du s t y l e , l e s p a y s a g i s t e s du decor symbolique a u r o n t sans doute a compter avec l e s b r u t a l e s r e v o l t e s de l a n a t u r e m o r t i f i e e . 126 Bouyer a l s o p o i n t e d out t h a t N i c o l a s P o u s s i n , "...ce g e n i e , b i e n meconnue en e f f e t , l o i n de t y r a n n i s e r 1 ' a r t , a r e h a b i l i t e l a n a t u r e , v i v i f i a n t p a r l e coeur l a g l a e i a l e c o n v e n t i o n des 127 B o l o n a i s . " The w r i t e r a l s o mentioned P o u s s i n ' s p a s s i o n a t e i n t e r e s t o f h i s y o u t h i n t h e " V e n e t i a n c o l o r i s t s . " Among the l a n d s c a p e s o f t h e l a t e 18 90s, I s h a l l choose f o r / d i s c u s s i o n t h e B a l t i m o r e S t e - V i c t o i r e seen from Bibemus, (V.766, c. 1898-1900) c.1837 a c c o r d i n g t o Rewald) - F i g . 17. The t a p e s t r y e f f e c t i s s t r i k i n g . I t i s due t o an a r b i t r a r y d i s t r i - b u t i o n o f l i g h t and shade t h a t c r e a t e s . a n even l i g h t n e s s . The whole p a i n t i n g appears t o be c o l o u r e d . i n a. h i g h key, s i n c e t h e b r o k e n t o n e s a r e s p a r i n g l y used and u n i f o r m l y d i s t r i b u t e d on t h e p a i n t i n g ' s s u r f a c e . The a r t i f i c i a l l i g h t o f the p i c t u r e 128 r e c a l l s t h e " i n n e r l i g h t " o f t h e B e a u v a i s t a p e s t r i e s . The p a r t i c u l a r l o o k o f t a p e s t r y i s enhanced by t h e s q u a r i s h p a t c h e s o f a f a i r l y . l a r g e s i z e , i n r e l a t e d hues o f r e d s o r brown-reds t h a t modulate the b a s i c orange-ochre l o c a l , c o l o u r o f t h e q u a r r y . Cezanne has r e s e r v e d t h e method o f h a t c h i n g f o r t h e m i d d l e - g r o u n d f o l i a g e i n p a r t i c u l a r , f o r a shimmering e f f e c t . As i n t h e t a p e s t r y , t h e f i n e h a t c h i n g l i n e s h e l p t h e passage - 175 - o f c o l o u r , the t r a n s i t i o n n e c e s s a r y i n g r a d a t i o n s . I n s t e a d o f r e l y i n g so much on c o n t r a s t o f hues as on t h e N e o - T m p r e s s i o n i s t s (or even as t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , i n a l e s s s c i e n t i f i c way), Cezanne used g r a d a t i o n s o f hues t h a t , are c l o s e i n t h e c h r o m a t i c c i r c l e , and t h r o u g h i n t e r m e d i a t e t r a n s i t i o n s , o r "passages," went 129 from one t o n a l s c a l e t o a n o t h e r . T h i s i s not t o say he d i d n o t use complementary hues n e x t t o each o t h e r . I n t h e Bibemus p a i n t i n g he used t h e c o n t r a s t o r a n g e - b l u e i n t e n s i v e l y , b u t i n l a r g e a r e a s o f f l a t . c o l o u r as f o r example i n the orange g o i n g a l l a l o n g t h e c o n t o u r o f t h e mountain (contour emphasized i n P r u s s i a n b l u e ) c o n t r a s t i n g . w i t h t h e b l u e o f t h e sky. The sky i t s e l f i s "modulated" ( a c c o r d i n g t o B l a n c ' s recommendations about making s e e m i n g l y f l a t c o l o u r , " v i b r a t e " ) and t h e r e are orange t o u c h e s i n i t . T h i s "orange" i s the b a s i c hue o f the q u a r r y i n w h i c h a r e a s o f b l u e a r e used f o r m o d e l l i n g , as w e l l as t o g i v e "a f e e l i n g o f a i r " , and a l s o because a r e p e t i t i o n o f t h e same hue a l l over the s u r f a c e o f the p a i n t i n g c o n t r i b u t e s t o t h e u n i t y o f e f f e c t . The l a t t e r i s a " t r i c k " recommended by manuals on decoration."*" 3 ^ C o l o u r b a l a n c e t h r o u g h o u t t h e p i c t u r e a r e a was v e r y im- p o r t a n t t o Cezanne. O f t e n whole p i c t u r e s were b u i l t up on a b a s i c c o l o u r note ( b l u e , blue-green,. r e d d i s h - b r o w n o c h r e , e t c . ) , a key note as i n music, t o w h i c h he added " m o d u l a t i o n s . " A good example i s Rocks i n the F o r e s t (V.673,c.1894) w h i c h has an o v e r a l l and d u l l p u r p l e t o n a l i t y , the same way an o l d G o b e l i n t a p e s t r y has a r e d d i s h t o n a l i t y . D a r c e l ' s d e s c r i p t i o n o f C a z i n ' s l a n d s c a p e s i n 1882 would a l s o f i t t h i s p a i n t i n g . T a l k - i n g about t h e " u n i t y o f c o l o r a t i o n , w h i c h i s a l r e a d y one o f t h e c o n d i t i o n s r e q u i r e d by o r n a m e n t a l p a i n t i n g , " D a r c e l s a i d about C a z i n ' s p a i n t i n g s e x h i b i t e d a t t h e S a l o n o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s t h a t t h e Union C e n t r a i e o r g a n i z e d t h a t y e a r : Ce s o n t d ' e x q u i s e s symphonies dans l e g r i s , . comme c e r t a i n s morceaux de musique de chambre ou M o z a r t se. c o m p l a i t a e n t o u r e r un theme d i s c r e t de m o d u l a t i o n s charmantes.; 131 I n f a c t , Cezanne's l a n d s c a p e s c o r r e s p o n d b e t t e r w i t h D a r c e l ' s concept o f d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g , s i n c e t h e y have t h e a r c h i t e c t u r - a l s t r u c t u r i n g , w h i c h t h e c r i t i c r e g r e t f u l l y n o t i c e d was m i s s i n g 132 i n C a z i n ' s works. R e t u r n i n g t o t h e Bibemus p i c t u r e t a k e n as p r o t o t y p e , i t i s e v i d e n t t h a t a n o t h e r f e a t u r e , c o n t r i b u t i n g t o t h e u n i t y and c l a r i t y o f the whole, i s t h e o u t l i n i n g o f t h e c o n t o u r s , w h i c h a l s o works t o a b o l i s h t h e e f f e c t s o r a e r i a l p e r s p e c t i v e . F o r example, t h e mountain, even though i t s b l u i s h c o l o r i n g a l l o w s f o r a " f e e l i n g o f a i r r , " i s b r o u g h t c l o s e r t o t h e v i e w e r by t h e d a r k b l u e o u t l i n e . ( i t i s a l s o made t o appear c l o s e r by a p l a y on shapes: t h e mountain s l o p e i s s y m m e t r i c a l w i t h t h e f o l i a g e p r o f i l e i n t h e r i g h t hand t r e e . ) The c o n t o u r s i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s a r e . n o t u n i n t e r r u p t e d , because he d i d not want h i s p i c t u r e t o be c o m p l e t e l y f l a t , but t o have t h e a s p e c t o f a bas- r e l i e f . The broken c o n t o u r s (which as I a l r e a d y mentioned ap- p e a r a l s o i n t a p e s t r y because of i t s s p e c i f i c method o f f a b r i - c a t i o n ) a l l o w f o r "passages" between d i f f e r e n t p l a n e s . There i s a l m o s t no depth i n t h i s p i c t u r e , and w i t h o u t t h e s e passages a l l o w e d by t h e openings i n t h e f i r m o u t l i n e s , t h e p l a n e s would " f a l l on t o p o f each o t h e r . " 1 3 3 I t seems t h a t i n t h i s p a i n t i n g Cezanne f o l l o w e d a sug- g e s t i o n Ch. B l a n c made f o r t a p e s t r y models, namely t o a v o i d t h e - 178 - e f f e c t o f l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e by u s i n g Chinese p e r s p e c t i v e 134 ( B l a n c even r e p r o d u c e d a C h i n e s e h a n g i n g i n h i s b o o k ) . I n C h i n e s e p a i n t i n g s and t a p e s t r i e s , mountains are p i l e d up i n o v e r l a p p i n g p l a n e s , the same way here S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e , r a i s e d h i g h e r t h a n i t s n a t u r a l p o s i t i o n , i s p i l e d up on t o p o f t h e c l i f f . L i l i a n e B r i o n Guerry n o t i c e d i n t h e 1940s t h a t i n t h i s p a i n t i n g (as w e l l as i n V.663, i n Moscow and V.666, i n C l e v e l a n a l s o p a i n t e d i n t h e 1890s), CSzanne used a s p a t i a l c o n c e p t i o n s i m i l a r t o t h a t o f C h i n e s e p a i n t e r s , but she d i d n o t t h i n k o f t h i s as t o be more t h a n a c o i n c i d e n c e , s i n c e she b e l i e v e d what 135 Gasquet s a i d . As i . i n d i c a t e d i n C h a p t e r I , P a r t 2, t h e l o o k o f t a p e s t r y , c a r p e t s , t h e i m i t a t i o n o f v a r i o u s t e x t u r e s and m a t e r i a l s i n p a i n t i n g was v e r y much i n f a s h i o n i n t h e l a s t y e a r s o f t h e 1 9 t h c e n t u r y . I t i s p o s s i b l e t h a t now Cezanne (who, as we know, was i n t e r e s t e d i n what t h e young g e n e r a t i o n o f p a i n t e r s was doing) was r e c e i v i n g feed-back. The f a c t i s t h a t h i s p a i n t i n g s o f t h i p e r i o d d i s p l a y a v a r i e t y o f d e c o r a t i v e p a t t e r n s and t e x t u r e s , a l l v e r y c o l o u r f u l , m a r k i n g a change from t h e more s o b e r , more " c l a s s i c a l " ones o f t h e l a t e 1880s and e a r l y 1890s. F o r i n - s t a n c e , one can compare S t i l l L i f e w i t h Peppermint B o t t l e o f about 1890-92 (V.625) - F i g . 18, w i t h S t i l l L i f e w i t h A p p l e s and Oranges o f t h e p e r i o d 1895-1900 (V.732) - F i g . 19. The f i r s t one, p a i n t e d i n a " c o l d " t o n a l i t y d i s p l a y s s i m p l e , pure l i n e s ( i n c l u d i n g t h e arabesques on the c l o t h ) , more r e g u l a r , g e o m e t r i c a l shapes, more e q u i l i b r i u m . The second one a p p e a l s more t o the s e n s e s . A l s o , i t s O r i e n t a l p e r s p e c t i v e , t h e t i l t e d p l a n e s , are even more s u i t a b l e f o r d e c o r a t i o n . - 178 - Gauguin's comparison o f Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s w i t h " O r i e n t a l s i l k s " can be b e s t i l l u s t r a t e d , perhaps.,- w i t h a n o t h e r p a i n t i n g o f t h i s p e r i o d , The Red Rock (V.776, 1895-1900) - F i g . 20. I t l o o k s l i k e F r e n c h i m i t a t i o n o f C h i n e s e s i l k s - T a f f e t a s C h i n e s , o f t h e Rococo p e r i o d , and i t i s a good i l l u s t r a t i o n o f t h e method o f c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s Cezanne r e s e r v e d now f o r f o l i a g e o r f o r m o d u l a t i n g s l i g h t r e l i e f s o f r o c k s o r t e r r a i n . F o r backgrounds, f i g u r e s , f r u i t and v a r i o u s o b j e c t s he used t h e method s i m i l a r t o t h e one used i n the flamb6 c e r a m i c s (by C h a p e l e t f o r example, 136 who was i n s p i r e d by s i m i l a r C h i n e s e p o t t e r y ) . In f a c t many o f h i s f i g u r e s , such as i n C a r d p l a y e r s , Smokers (V.684, c.1895 i s a good example), B a t h e r s , o r f r u i t i n h i s S t i l l L i f e s t a k e t h e a s p e c t o f s o l i d c e r a m i c s , a f a c t p r a i s e d by h i s contempor- a r y c r i t i c s . A t t h e S a l o n d'Automne o f 1904 "pure p a i n t i n g " s e t t h e tone and Cezanne, as we have seen, was p r a i s e d or blamed, depending on t h e p o s i t i o n o f the c r i t i c , f o r t h e d i r e c t i o n p a i n t i n g was t a k i n g . As i f t o respond t o . c r i t i c i s m , between 1904-1906 (the l a s t y e a r s o f h i s l i f e ) Cezanne p a i n t e d a s e r i e s o f p a i n t i n g w i t h Mont S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e , w h i c h are more " a b s t r a c t " t h a n any- t h i n g he had p a i n t e d b e f o r e , and i n which the p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h t e x t u r e i s v e r y pronounced.. I n some o f them' he r e i n t r o d u c e d t h e heavy impasto o f h i s much e a r l i e r p a i n t i n g s (which now were seen and a p p r e c i a t e d l a r g e l y because of. t h i s f e a t u r e ) . I be- l i e v e as V e n t u r i d i d t h a t t h i s l a t e s e r i e s o f S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e v i e w s were a l l p a i n t e d i n the l a s t c o u p l e o f y e a r s , even though l a t e l y some o f them have been a s s i g n e d t o t h e p e r i o d 1902-1906, 137 • • f o r no o b v i o u s r e a s o n . I am . r e f e r r i n g t o the e i g h t p a i n t i n g s l i s t e d i n V e n t u r i c a t a l o g a s : V. 79!8"-V.. 804 and V.1529, as w e l l as t o Mont S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e seen from Les Lauves i n the E s t a t e o f Henry Pearlman,' New York. These a r e ' t h e p a i n t i n g s f o r which Cezanne f e l t c o m p e l l e d t o j u s t i f y h i s " a b s t r a c t i o n s " t o 13 8 B e r n a r d , b l a m i n g them on h i s o l d age v i s i o n . The l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d was p r o b a b l y t r i g g e r e d by a p r e v i o u s e n q u i r y from the p a r t o f t h e younger p a i n t e r who was a g a i n s t t h i s m a t e r i a l i s t i c "pure p a i n t i n g , " and who may a l s o have f e l t t h a t Cezanne was n o t p r a c t i s i n g what he was p r e a c h i n g i n r e s p e c t w i t h t h e a r t / n a t u r e r e l a t i o n s h i p . The f a c t i s t h a t a p a i n t i n g l i k e t h e S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e now i n a p r i v a t e c o l l e c t i o n i n S w i t z e r l a n d (V.802) - F i g . 2 1 i s a k i n t o V u i l l a r d ' s p a i n t i n g s o f about t h e same p e r i o d , admired a t t h e S a l o n d'Automne i n 1904 f o r the " p r e c i o s i t y o f t h e w e f t , " f o r t h e a s p e c t o f e x p e n s i v e t i s s u e , and w h i c h were c o n s i d e r e d as very: s u i t a b l e ! f o r t h e d e c o r a t i o n 139 o f modern a p a r t m e n t s . No wonder t h a t M. D e n i s , who saw one o f t h e S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e p a i n t i n g s on Cezanne's e a s e l i n 1906 (the one w h i c h appears on t h e photograph he t o o k and used f o r h i s p a i n t i n g Cezanne "on the M o t i f " - F i g . 2 2 ; i t i s p r o b a b l y V.803), was f o r c e d t o admit t h a t Cezanne's work, j u s t l i k e 140 V u i l l a r d ' s , was "pure p a i n t i n g . " T h i s p a r t i c u l a r p a i n t i n g (V.803, Mount S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e Seen from:Les Lauves , c. 1906, P u s h k i n Mus., Moscow), w h i l e e m p h a s i z i n g t e x t u r e ( i n i m p a s t o ) , does not have t h e s t r u c t u r e d , o r d e r l y , t a p e s t r y - l i k e t e x t u r e o f o t h e r p a i n t i n g s o f t h e same " m o t i f , " such as f o r example t h e one i n Z u r i c h - F i g . 2 1 . . The p a i n t i n g i n Z u r i c h e x h i b i t s on a much l a r g e r s u r f a c e o f t h e p a i n t i n g t h e same p a t t e r n o f s q u a r i s h p a t c h e s Cezanne used e a r l i e r i n t h e m i d d l e ground - 180 - o f t h e M e t r o p o l i t a n S a i n t e - V i c t o i r e - F i g . 16. W i t h t h e p a i n t i n g seen by D e n i s i t would seem Cezanne became even more " a n a r c h i s t i c " (to use D e n i s ' own l a n g u a g e ) , no doubt t o t h e younger p a i n t e r ' s d i s a p p o i n t m e n t . I n f a c t ' b e - cause o f h i s p a i n t i n g , and p r e v i o u s f r i e n d s h i p w i t h Z o l a , ; - Cezanne was even l a b e l l e d as D r e y f u s s i s t I n 1903. x ^ x Cezanne d i d n o t h i n g t o e a r n t h i s l a b e l , as we a l r e a d y know. On t h e o t h e r hand i f we f i n d " c l a s s i c a l " o r d e r i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g , i s n o t because o f h i s a l l e g i a n c e t o t h e r e a c t i o n a r y N e o - C l a s s i c i s t movement t o w h i c h D e n i s belonged.: In f a c t , w i t h t h e e x c e p t i o n o f t h e G r e a t B a t h e r s i n P h i l a d e l p h i a , V.719, Cezanne p a i n t i n g s i n h i s l a s t decade e x h i b i t f a r l e s s c l a s s i c a l o r d e r t h a n the p a i n t i n g s o f the 1880s. Cezanne was always on the s i d e o f t h e a r t f o r a r t ' s sake, w i t h o u t l i t e r a t u r e , w i t h o u t m o r a l , w i t h o u t p r o p a g a n d i s t s ends. By t h e end o f h i s l i f e he was d i s i l l u s i o n e d w i t h C a t h o l i c p r i e s t s ("I t h i n k t h a t t o be a C a t h o l i c one must be d e v o i d o f a l l sense o f j u s t i c e , but have 142 good eye f o r one's i n t e r e s t s " ) as w e l l as w i t h t h e i n t e l - 143 l e c t u a l s o f h i s r e g i o n . He even wrote t o B e r n a r d i n 1905 t h a t "the humble and c o l o s s a l P i s s a r r o f i n d s .himself j u s t i f i e d i n h i s a n a r c h i s t i c t h e o r i e s , " when e x a s p e r a t e d by B e r n a r d ' s r e m i n i s c e n s e s o f museums (which P i s s a r r o would have l i k e d t o 144 see burned down). The c l a s s i c a l o r d e r Cezanne i n t r o d u c e d i n t o h i s p a i n t i n g s was r e l a t e d t o the concept o f " d e c o r a t i v e , " o r " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" p a i n t i n g o f t h e 1880s and e a r l y 1890s. C o n c l u s i o n s . I t i s e v i d e n t t h a t t h e a v a n t - g a r d e ' s o r i e n t a t i o n toward - 181 - the " d e c o r a t i v e " (even toward " d e c o r a t i o n " ) , t h a t c h a r a c t e r i z e s F r a n c h p a i n t i n g from t h e 1860s u n t i l t h e appearance o f Cubism, i s r e l a t e d t o t h e a r t i s t s ' d e s i r e t o produce " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake." I n t h i s r e s p e c t , Cezanne was no e x c e p t i o n . In o r d e r t o u n d e r s t a n d b e t t e r Cezanne's p o s i t i o n w i t h r e s p e c t t o t h e a v a n t - garde movements o f h i s t i m e : I m p r e s s i o n i s m (of t h e 1870s), Neo- I m p r e s s i o n i s m , Symbolism ("Symbolism-Synthetism"), "pure p a i n t i n g " ( l a t e 1890s - e a r l y 1900s), as w e l l as t o N e o - C l a s s i c i s m (which was not an a v a n t - g a r d e movement o r i g i n a l l y b u t , i n my o p i n i o n , l a t e r i n f l u e n c e d a v a n t - g a r d e p a i n t i n g ) , we have t o be aware t h a t t h e r e were e s s e n t i a l l y t w o . p a r a l l e l , a p p r o a c h e s toward t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " o r " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake," c o r r e s p o n d i n g r e s p e c t i v e l y t o a M a t e r i a l i s t o r an I d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h y . I n a m a t e r i a l i s t i c framework, " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g i s " e x t e r n a l " , and i t s purpose i s t o g i v e p l e a s u r e t o t h e eye. I n an i d e a l i s t i c system o f r e f e r e n c e , " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g , w h i l e s t i l l " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" i n t h e sense t h a t i t d e n i e s the importance o f t h e s u b j e c t - m a t t e r (even though t h i s i s always o f s i g n i f i c a n c e ) , and e s p e c i a l - l y because i t does not " e x p r e s s " emotions t h r o u g h t h e s u b j e c t - m a t t e r , does c o n t a i n an " I d e a . " I t i s even " p a i n t i n g o f the s o u l , " and i t borrows t h e f o r m a l i s m o f . " d e c o r a t i o n " i n o r d e r t o p r o j e c t t h e i d e a l i s t c o n t e n t . S y m b o l i s t p a i n t i n g i s such " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" d e f i n e d i n an i d e a l i s t framework. Im- p r e s s i o n i s m was " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" d e f i n e d s o l e l y w i t h i n a p h i l o s o p h i c a l l y m a t e r i a l i s t system. I t was a l s o " d e c o r a t i v e " w i t h o u t b e i n g "decoration/"; a g a i n i n the. " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " a c - c a p t a n c e o f the term " d e c o r a t i v e . " Both I m p r e s s i o n i s m (I em- p h a s i z e a g a i n , I am r e f e r r i n g o n l y t o t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s m o f t h e - 182 - 1870s, t i e d t o N a t u r a l i s m ) and Symbolism were concerned w i t h " e x p r e s s i o n . " . They d i d n o t e x p r e s s by means o f s u b j e c t - m a t t e r ( i . e . moving s t o r i e s , f a c i a l e x p r e s s i o n , g e s t u r e s ) , but r e l i e d i n s t e a d upon t h e f o r m a l elements o f t h e p a i n t i n g . I m p r e s s i o n - ism allowed- f o r t h e e x p r e s s i o n o f - p e r s o n a l "temperatment" (which was a p h y s i o l o g i c a l l y d e t e r m i n e d - c h a r a c t e r i s t i c ) t h r o u g h " t o u c h , " movement o f t h e p a t e . Symbolism used s y m b o l i c c o l o u r , e x p r e s - s i v e l i n e , d i s t o r t i o n s o f shapes, i n o r d e r t o e x p r e s s i d e a s , p e r s o n a l "dreams," t h e " s o u l . " S u c h ' d i s t o r t i o n s were added t o t h e n e c e s s a r y d i s t o r t i o n s r e q u i r e d by the. laws of d e c o r a t i o n . (As M a u r i c e D e n i s put i t , t h e y used " o b j e c t i v e " and. " s u b j e c t i v e " d e f o r m a t i o n s ; t h i s t h e s i s i s not concerned w i t h t h e "subjective'.' d i s t o r t i o n s . ) A p a r t from such movements, c l e a r l y on the s i d e o f M a t e r i a l - ism o r I d e a l i s m , t h e r e were o t h e r s , w h i c h took t h e r e a l , ex- t e r n a l w o r l d as o b j e c t o f r e p r e s e n t a t i o n , b u t r e j e c t e d a p u r e l y " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " approach t o p a i n t i n g . Such a movement was Neo- I m p r e s s i o n i s m w h i c h r e j e c t e d t h e e m p i r i c i s m o f N a t u r a l i s m , used t h e t h e o r e t i c a l s i d e o f s c i e n c e (as recommended by such I d e a l i s t a e s t h e t i c i a n s as C h a r l e s B l a n c ) , and e v e n t u a l l y adopted t h e f o r m a l i s m o f d e c o r a t i o n . Cezanne, i n my o p i n i o n , f i t s r o u g h l y i n t o the same c a t e g o r y ( t a k i n g i n t o a c c o u n t o f c o u r s e t h e d i f - f e r e n c e i n t e c h n i q u e r e f l e c t i n g Cezanne's c o n c e r n w i t h g r a d a t i o n o f c o l o u r and p r e s e r v i n g t h e l o c a l c o l o u r , r a t h e r t h a n o p t i c a l m i x i n g and recomposing l i g h t ) . He a l s o f o l l o w e d the same p a t h as such o l d " I m p r e s s i o n i s t s " as R e n o i r (or even P i s s a r r o ) i n t h e 1880s, i n h i s o r i e n t a t i o n toward c o m p o s i t i o n and. S t y l e . U n l i k e him, however, t h e y remained o n l y " d e c o r a t i v e " ( u s i n g t h e new - 183 - meaning o f t h e word, w h i c h a t t h e time had " c l a s s i c i s t " f l a v o r ) . T h i s t h e s i s p r o p o s e s t h a t Cezanne r e a c t e d more s t r o n g l y a g a i n s t N a t u r a l i s m , a d o p t i n g t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f " d e c o r a t i o n . " I n t h i s r e s p e c t , t h e p r e s e n t w r i t e r r a l l i e s w i t h Cezanne's contemporar- i e s who r e g a r d e d him ( t o g e t h e r w i t h . P u v i s de Chavannes) as' an " i n i t i a t o r " i n u s i n g t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f d e c o r a t i o n i n e a s e l p a i n t i n g . Cezanne was n o t p a r t o f t h e r e a c t i o n a r y N e o - C l a s s i c i s t movement (to w h i c h E m i l e B e r n a r d and Maurice'.Denis belonged) a t t h e t u r n o f the c e n t u r y . The " C l a s s i c i s m " i n h i s work d a t e s from an e a r l i e r p e r i o d , and r e f l e c t s t h e concept o f the. "de- c o r a t i v e " predominant i n t h e 1880s and e a r l y 1890s. I n the l a s t y e a r s o f h i s l i f e , Cezanne was more a f f i l i a t e d w i t h the "pure p a i n t i n g " tendency, w h i c h was based on t h e " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " a c - ceptance" o f " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake," and i t was a "descendent" o f Cezanne's own p a i n t i n g o f the 1860s and e a r l y 1870s, as w e l l as o f I m p r e s s i o n i s m . The n o v e l t y was the c o n n e c t i o n o f t h i s p a i n t i n g w i t h t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s ( f l a t n e s s , i m i t a t i o n o f t e x - t u r e s , emphasis on p a t t e r n s ) . To c o n c l u d e , i f Cezanne i s p l a c e d i n h i s h i s t o r i c a l c o n t e x t , i t i s a p p a r e n t t o the p r e s e n t w r i t e r , t h a t t h e p a i n t e r o f A i x was p a r t , o f t h e movement t h a t i n t r o d u c e d t h e a e s t h e t i c s o f " d e c o r a t i o n " i n t o e a s e l p a i n t i n g . - 184 - NOTES I n t r o d u c t i o n . 1 Maurice Merleau-Ponty, "Cezanne's Doubt," Sense and Non- Sense, t r Hubert L.Dreyfus and P a t r i c i a A l l e n Dreyfus, Evanston 111.: Northwestern Univ. Press, 1961, pp.9-25. ('Translated from Sens e t non-sens, P a r i s , 1948.) Merleau-Ponty c o n s i d e r e d t h a t Cezanne's p e r s p e c t i v e i s one we a c t u a l l y p e r c e i v e , i t i s "the l i v e d p e r s p e c t i v e . " He r e l i e d h e a v i l y on Emile Bernard's f a b r i c a t e d "Conversation w i t h Cezanne," p u b l i s h e d f i r s t i n 1920. 2 A l b e r t G l e i z e s and Jean Metzinger, Cubism, 1912, i n Robert Herbert, ed., Modern A r t i s t s on'Art, Englewood C l i f f s , N.J.: P r e n t i c e H a l l , 1965, p.5. 3 Daniel-Henry Kahnweiler, The R i s e of Cubism, i n H.B. Chipp, T h e o r i e s of Modern A r t , Univ. of C a l i f o r n i a Press, 1973, p.24 8. In 1908 or 1909, Braque was s t i l l s a y i n g : "Nature i s a mere p r e t e x t f o r a d e c o r a t i v e composition, p l u s sentiment." ( See Chipp, op. c i t . , p.260.) 4 See H.B. Chipp, T h e o r i e s of Modern A r t , pp.255-57. ~* See f o r example R i c h a r d A. Moore, "Academic Dessin Theory i n France a f t e r the R e o r g a n i z a t i o n of 1863," J o u r n a l of The S o c i e t y of A r c h i t e c t u r a l H i s t o r i a n s , 56, 1977, p.156 and pp.160-1. Both the d e s s i n geometral and the d e s s i n p e r s p e c t i f were p a r t of the t r a d i t i o n a l d e s s i n t e a c h i n g , which, as Moore p o i n t e d out, imposed i t s e l f a t a l l l e v e l s of a r t education, by l a t e 1890s - e a r l y 1880s i n France. The d e s s i n geometral' was important e s p e c i a l l y f o r a r c h i t e c t s , d e c o r a t i v e a r t i s t s , a r t i s a n s , craftsmen. I t enabled them to see the o b j e c t s "as they a c t u a l l y were," w i t h the help of the s c i e n c e of geometry. How can a draftsman g i v e us the i d e a of a lamp or a hat, asked the i n f l u e n t i a l a e s t h e t i c i a n and a r t h i s t o r i a n Charles Blanc i f he does not know h i m s e l f the " r e a l c o n s t r u c t i o n " of those o b j e c t s , t h a t i s t h e i r geometric form? He s t a t e d : "La geometrie f a i t c o n n a i t r e l e s o b j e t s t e l s q u ' i l s sont, e t l a p e r s p e c t i v e l e s f a i t v o i r t e l s q u ' i l s p a r a i s s e n t §tre." ( My emphasis.) Blanc added: S i l a r e a l i t e n'est pas sue, l'apparence s e r a fausse. La p e r s p e c t i v e n'etant au'une a l t e r a t i o n v i s u e l l e , independante de l ' o b j e t lui-m§me, l ' g l e v e ne saura pas se rendre compte de c e t t e a l t e r a t i o n e t l e f a i r e s e n t i r aux a u t r e s , s ' i l ne possede pas une idee p r e c i s e de l ' o b j e t non a l t e r e . - 185 - ( Ch. B l a n c , "L'Union C e n t r a l e des B e a u x - A r t s a p p l i q u e s a 1' i n d u s t r i e , " G a z e t t e des B e a u x - A r t s , S e r . l , V o l . 1 9 , 1965, p.211.) ^ See D.^H. K a h n w e i l e r , i n H.B. Chipp, T h e o r i e s ..., p. 255. 7 F o r t h i s "genealogy" see A l b e r t G l e i z e s and Jean M e t z i n g e r , Cubism, i n R. H e r b e r t , Modern A r t i s t s on A r t , pp.3-4. 8 W i l l i a m Rubin, "Cezannisme and t h e B e g i n n i n g s o f Cubism," Cezanne. The L a t e Work, M 0 M A, N.Y, 1977, pp.162-165. 9 George Heard H a m i l t o n , "Cezanne and H i s C r i t i c s , " Cezanne. The L a t e Work, p.147. More than t h i r t y y e a r s ago, Clement Greenberg remarked on Cezanne's p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h a " d e c o r a t i v e s u r f a c e e f f e c t , " b u t he, a l s o , c o n s i d e r e d " p l a s t i c i t y " and " d e c o r a t i o n " as t o t a l l y opposed. ( See Clement Greenberg, "Cezanne and the U n i t y o f Modern A r t , " P a r t i s a n Review, May-June 1951, p.327.) 1 X By " I m p r e s s i o n i s m " I mean o n l y the movement i n the 1870s. 12 A case i n p o i n t i s George L. Mauner, The N a b i s : T h e i r H i s t o r y and T h e i r A r t , 1888-1896, New York and London: G a r l a n d P u b l . I n c . , 1978. - 186 - Chapter I, I n t r o d u c t i o n See f o r example: John H. Neff, "Matisse and Decoration: an I n t r o d u c t i o n , " A r t s Magazine, May 1975, pp.59-61. Joseph Masheck, "The Carpet Paradigm: C r i t i c a l Prolegomena to a Theory of F l a t n e s s , " A r t s Magazine, Vol.51, Sept.1976, pp.81-109. Norma Broude, "Miriam Schapiro and Femmage : R e f l e c t i o n s on the C o n f l i c t Between Decoration and A b s t r a c t i o n i n Twentieth - Century A r t , " A r t s Magazine, Feb.1980, pp.83-87. Nancy J . Troy, " A b s t r a c t i o n , Decoration and C o l l a g e , " A r t s Magazine, Juhe 1980, pp.154-57. Avigdor A r i k h a , "On A b s t r a c t i o n , " A r t s Magazine, Oct.1980, p.154. 2 This i s not the only reason why Cezanne was excluded from t h e i r d i s c u s s i o n . One important reason i s the viewing of Cezanne as "perceptualT" • In the context of " f l a t n e s s " the r e l a t i o n s h i p between a b s t r a c t a r t and d e c o r a t i o n becomes s t r a i g h t f o r w a r d . A "carpet paradigm" ( see Masheck, i n the above note) a p p l i e d to the a r t of the Nabis, or even Gauguin i s a l s o an appropriate a s s o c i a t i o n . Of course, the tension between 2-D and 3-D i n Cezanne's work does not f i t t h i s paradigm. Chapter I , P a r t 1 At f i r s t there was no d i s t i n c t i o n between the terms " i n d u s t r i a l a r t s " and " d e c o r a t i v e a r t s ^ " , between mass-produced o b j e c t s ( by machines) and i n d i v i d u a l l y c r e a t e d o b j e c t s ( manually) by a r t i s a n s or a r t i s t s . ( See a l s o P i e r r e V a i s s e , "La q u e r e l l e de l a T a p i s s e r i e au debut de l a I I I Republique," Revue de l ' A r t , No.22, 1973, p.74.) In 1875, Ed. Didron t a l k e d f o r example of "Ces expressions s p e c i a l e s du d e s s i n que l ' o n e s t convenue d'appeler l e s a r t s i n d u s t r i e l s , l a p e i n t u r e sur v e r r e , l a mosaique e t l a t a p i s s e r i e , par example..." ( E d Didron, "Du r o l e d e c o r a t i f de l a p e i n t u r e en mosaique," Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol.11, 1975, p.449.) In 1889, V i c t o r Champier I d i r e c t o r of the Revue des A r t s D e c o r a t i f s ) c o n s i d e r e d the use of the e x p r e s s i o n " i n d u s t r i a l works" as d e p l o r a b l e when employed to works done by renound p a i n t e r s and s c u l p t o r s , themselves. ( V. Champier, "Les A r t s D e c o r a t i f s au Salon de 1889," Revue des A r t s D e c o r a t i f s , Vol.9 1888/1889, p.348.) See n.73. - 187 - 5 See N i k o l a u s Pevsner, Pioneers of Modern Design, 1936; r p t . Penguin Books, 1979, pp.46^8, ^ See N i k o l a u s Pevsner, 'Academies1 of a r t , p a s t and present, Cambridge (.Engl.): The U n i v e r s i t y Press; New York: Macmillan, 1940, pp.253-5. 7 I b i d . , p.254. 8 See f o r example Robert Schmutzler, A r t Nouveau, New York, 1978, p.33. 9 Quoted i n E l i s a b e t h Gilmore H o l t , The A r t of a l l Nations: 1850-73. The Emerging Role of E x h i b i t i o n and C r i t i c s , Garden C i t y , New York: Anchor Books, 1981, p.477. 1 0 See M a r t i n B a t t e r s b y , A r t Nouveau, Middlesex, Paul Hamlyn Publ., 1969, p.7. For the 1851 e x h i b i t i o n see a l s o E.G. H o l t , The A r t of a l l Nations..., pp.49-59. X l Quoted i n A l b e r t Boime, "The Teaching Reforms of 1863 and the O r i g i n s of Modernism i n France," The A r t Q u a r t e r l y , New S e r i e s , V o l . 1 , No.1, Autumn 1977, p.32, n.79. 12 See the t e x t of the Decree i n "DECRET concernant 1'or- / . g a n i s a t i o n de l ' E c o l e i m p e r i a l e e t s p e c i a l e des Beaux-Arts," Gazette des Beaux-Arts, V o l . 1 5 , 1863, pp.569-72. 13 A l b e r t Boime, "The Teaching R e f o r m s " A r t Q u a r t e r l y , Autumn 19 77, pp.1-39. 14 Comte de Nieuwerkerke, "Rapport," Gazette des Beaux- A r t s , V o l . 1 5 , 1863, p.565. 15 Quoted i n A. Boime, 1977, p.19. 16 See a l s o f o r the d i s t i n c t i o n to be made between " O f f i c i a l " and "Academic," A l b e r t Boime, The Academy and French P a i n t i n g i n the Nineteenth Century, London, 1971, pp.15 f f . 17 Eugene V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , " F i r s t L e c t u r e a t the E c o l e des Beaux-Arts, 1864," A r c h i t e c t u r a l Design, Vol.50, No.3/4, 1980, p.20. In t h i s l e c t u r e V i o l l e t - l e - D u c d e a l t w i t h the i n f l u e n c e of r e l i g i o u s i d e a l s on Hindu and Greek a r t . V i o l l e t - l e - D u c was born i n 1814, the son of a c i v i l servant, whose job connected w i t h the r o y a l p a l a c e s compelled the f a m i l y to r e s i d e f o r a w h i l e i n the T u i l e r i e s , u n t i l the a b d u c t i o n of L o u i s - P h i l i p p e . His mother was the s i s t e r of the c r i t i c E t i e n n e D e l e c l u z e , who was a n t i - c l e r i c a l , and who had a c o n s i d e r a b l e i n f l u e n c e on h i s nephew. E. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c him- s e l f was an a g n o s t i c and a g a i n s t the e s t a b l i s h e d church. His own p o l i t i c a l views brought him to the b a r r i c a d e s of J u l y 1830 ( he b u i l t one) i n h i s youth. In h i s mature l i f e he was asso- c i a t e d w i t h Napoleon I l l ' s c o u r t , was condemned to death by the Communards, and i n the f i r s t years of the T h i r d Republic he was an ardent Republican, u n t i l h i s death i n 1879. - 188 - See f o r example Rene B r i a t , " V i o l l e t - l e - D u c decorateur au ChSteau d'Eu," Connaissances A r t i s t i q u e s , No.335, Jan.1980, pp.40-45. 19 For E u g e n e Grasset see a l s o Ch.I, P a r t 2, n.127. For G a l l a n d see V i c t o r Champier, "M.P.-V. G a l l a n d e t 1 1 enseignement de l ' a r t d e c o r a t i f , " P a r t I i n Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Vol.37, 1888, pp.105-17 and P a r t I I i n Gazette..., Vol.38, 1888, pp.5-20. See a l s o A. Boime, "The Teaching Reforms...," A r t Q u a r t e r l y , Autumn 1977, p.34, n.114. G a l l a n d was a p a i n t e r - d e c o r a t o r who was a l s o a member of the comission f o r p e r f e c t i n g the Sevres manufactories and d i r e c t o r of the G o b e l i n s ' schools and a r t works. 20 C h a r l e s Blanc ( 1813-1882), who h e l d o f f i c i a l f u n c t i o n s , became a l s o a f r e e member of the Academie des Beaux-Arts i n 1868 and was e l e c t e d member of the Academie f r a n c a i s e i n 1876. His o f f i c i a l f u n c t i o n s were D i r e c t o r of Beaux-Arts i n two govern- ments: the p r o v i s i o n a l government of 1848, i n which h i s brother, the s o c i a l i s t L o u i s Blanc was M i n i s t e r of Labor, and a g a i n a f t e r the p r o c l a m a t i o n of the T h i r d Republic on September 4, 18 70 u n t i l T h i e r s ' r e s i g n a t i o n on May 24, 1873. He d i d not approve of T h i e r s ' p o l i t i c s ( a c c o r d i n g to Louis Fiaoux, C h a r l e s Blanc, 3^ v o l . i n the s e r i e s " P o r t r a i t s P o l i t i q u e s Contemporains," Marpon & Flammarion ed, P a r i s , 1882) s i n c e he had a c l o s e r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h h i s b r o t h e r L o u i s Blanc and shared h i s views. I t i s s a i d ( op.cit.,p.50) he d e c l a r e d : " l i s ont eu beau : r ' m'elire academicien, je n'en s u i s pas moins s o c i a l i s t e r e v o l u t i o n - naire.'" A f t e r T h i e r s ' f a l l Ch. Blanc became the prey of the r e a c t i o n a r y p r e s s , and the new c o n s e r v a t i v e government ordered him to r e s i g n . The Marquis de Chennevieres took h i s p l a c e as D i r e c t o r of Beaux-Arts. During the Second Empire Ch. Blanc stayed away from any governmental p o s i t i o n s , even though i t has been suggested he c o u l d have e a s i l y h e l d one, because of h i s good r e l a t i o n s w i t h P r i n c e s s Mathilde Bonaparte and even w i t h L o u i s Napeleon. These r e l a t i o n s have been e x p l a i n e d by the f a c t t h a t the P r i n c e s s i n t e r v e n e d i n f a v o r of Blanc's w i f e who was a r r e s t e d a f t e r the events of June 1849 when she c o u l d not hide her sympathies. But i t was not j u s t out of g r a t i t u d e that the " s o c i a l i s t r e v o l u t i o n a r y " Blanc a c t u a l l y supported some of Napoleon I l l ' s p o l i c i e s , e s p e c i a l l y where i n d u s t r i a l a r t s were concerned. He b e l i e v e d t h a t h i s t o r y ( s o c i a l and a r t i s t i c ) i s accomplished by "great men" and probably hoped the Emperor (who a f t e r a l l once was a " r e p u b l i c a n " and a f t e r 1859 adopted more l i b e r a l p o l i c i e s ) was such a man. He b e l i e v e d i n "grandeur of a r t " and once s a i d : Les s e u l e s formes de gouvernement q u i a i e n t ete f a v o r a b l e s a l a grandeur de l ' a r t ce sont l e s monarchies pures ou l e s democracies vigoureuses, avec c e t t e d i f f e r e n c e que l e s premieres ont f a i t de l ' a r t un e s c l a v e ou un f l a t t e u r , t a n d i s que l e s a u t r e s l u i ont f o u r n i presque t o u j o u r s une 'esogne heroique. (Quoted i n L.Fiaoux, C h a r l e s Blanc, p.30) C h a r l e s Blanc was an i n f l u e n t i a l a r t h i s t o r i a n and a e s t h e t i c i a n . He was the author of the Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n t h a t was f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n 1867 and went through f o u r e d i t i o n s by the - 189 - time o f h i s d e a t h i n 1882. He a l s o p u b l i s h e d t h e s e q u e l , Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , as w e l l as s e v e r a l volumes o f t h e H i s t o i r e des p e i n t r e s de t o u t e s l e s e c o l l e s . He p u b l i s h e d e x t e n s i v e l y i n the •Gazette des B e a u x - A r t s , w h i c h he founded. B l a n c i s a p a r a d o x i c a l f i g u r e i n the h i s t o r y o f a r t . He was h a t e d by h i s f e l l o w - A c a d e m i c i a n s f o r h i s p o l i t i c a l v i e w s , and by the a v a n t - g a r d e f o r some o f h i s " r e t r o g r a d e " views on a r t . Y e t he i n d i r e c t l y i n f l u e n c e d the development o f modern a r t , because the a v a n t - g a r d e made use o f h i s w r i t i n g s , w h i c h were u p - t o - d a t e w i t h r e s p e c t t o the l a t e s t s c i e n t i f i c t h e o r i e s a p p l i c a b l e to a r t , as w e l l as o t h e r t o p i c s . B l a n c was an adept o f I d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h i e s . He was a " f r e e - t h i n k e r " who was a " s p i r i t u a l i s t , " he used o f t e n the word "God" w h i l e s a y i n g "above a l l I don't want a p r i e s t a t my death- bed" and had a f u n e r a l w i t h o u t one i n 188 2. 21 . B l a n c was a l s o a p r o p a g a n d i s t o f the Acedemic t e a c h i n g methods o f d e s s i n , and i n h i s second term as D i r e c t o r o f Beaux- A r t s he r e i n t r o d u c e d the Prix-de-Rome c o m p e t i t i o n a b o l i s h e d by the Decree.of 1863. 22 See C h a r l e s B l a n c , " S a l o n de 1866," G a z e t t e des Beaux- A r t s , S e r . l , V o l . 2 0 , 1866, p.500. 23 I n t h e Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n ( 1867, p.616) B l a n c w r o t e : Le p e i n t r e peut t r a v a i l l e r pour l e s ' j o u i s s a n c e s e g o i s t e s d'un homme ou pour l e s p l a i s i r s de t o u t un p e u p l e . M a i s , a mesure que son ouvrage s'en-_ • n o b l i t par l e nombre, des s p e c t a t e u r s q u i en j o u i r o n t , l e s s u r f a c e s ou i l d o i t e x e r c e r son g e n i e d e v i e n n e n t p l u s v a s t e s e t p l u s s o l i d e s . . . La p e i n t u r e murale, c e l l e q u i decore l e s grands e d i f i c e s , e s t done par elle-melne l a p l u s haute d e s t i n a t i o n d e l ' a r t i s t e , c a r en l u i p r o m e t t a n t une longue duree, e l l e l u i commande une oeuvre q u i en s o i t d i g n e . 2 4 Ch. B l a n c , " S a l o n de 1866," p.512. 25 Ch. B l a n c , Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s : D e c o r a t i o n i n t e r i e u r e de l a maison, P a r i s : Renouard, 1882. Most c h a p t e r s were p u b l i s h e d e a r l i e r ( i n the 1870s). i n t h e G a z e t t e des Beaux- A r t s . 26 See Ch. B l a n c , Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , 4 t h ed., 1882, p.2. See a l s o A l b e r t Cassagne, La t h e o r i e de l ' a r t pour l ' a r t chez l e s d e r n i e r s romantiques e t l e s p r e m i e r s r e a l i s t e s , P a r i s : L u c i e n Dorbon, 1905, r e p r i n t e d i n 1959, pp.38-39 on V i c t o r C o u s i n . C o u s i n wrote i n the Revue des Deux Mondes i n 1845: " I l f a u t comprendre e t aimer l a morale pour l a m o r a l e , l a r e l i g i o n pour l a r e l i g i o n , l ' a r t pour l ' a r t . " .( Quoted i n Cassagne, op. c i t . , p.38.) 27 F o r Proudhon see Monroe C. B e a r d s l e y , A e s t h e t i c s from C l a s s i c a l Greece t o the P r e s e n t , The Univ. o f Alabama P r e s s , 1977 ( f i r s t i n 1966), p.301. For B l a n c see above, n.20. - 190 - 28 Blanc mentioned Lammennais, together w i t h Cousin, i n Grammaire ... d e s s i n , 1882, p.2. For more i n f o r m a t i o n on Lamennais, see A. Cassagne, La t h e o r i e de l ' a r t pour l ' a r t , pp.51-52. 29 51. 30 31 Quoted i n A. Cassagne, La t h e o r i e de l ' a r t pour l ' a r t , I b i d . , p.52. See Ch. Blanc, "L'Union C e n t r a l e des Beaux-Arts app- l i q u e s a 1 ' i n d u s t r i e , " Gazette des Beaux-Arts, S e r . l , Vol.19, 1965, p.193 and p.201. 32 In the methods of t e a c h i n g and the c u r r i c u l u m adopted i n a r t schools of a l l l e v e l s i n the 1870s and 1880s, even i n the p r o f e s s i o n a l ones, the Academic t r a d i t i o n was however perpetu- ated ( e s p e c i a l l y i n the t e a c h i n g of d e s s i n ) , due to the i n f l u e n c e of Ch. Blanc and another o f f i c i a l - A c a d e m i c i a n , the s c u l p t o r Eugene Guillaume ( 1822-1905, d i r e c t o r of the E c o l e des Beaux-Arts a f t e r the r e o r g a n i z a t i o n of 1963 - t h e r e f o r e when under d i r e c t Government c o n t r o l - and l a t e r , d i r e c t o r of the French Academy a t Rome). 3 3 See p r e v i o u s note. Because of t h i s s t r o n g academic i n f l u e n c e , i n d u s t r i a l a r t e d u c a t i o n was not p r a c t i c a l enough i n France, was encumbered w i t h a l o t of theory and h i s t o r i c i s m . In 1888, Marius Vachon, who j u s t conducted a t the request Of the French Government an i n v e s t i g a t i o n of a r t e d u c a t i o n ( e s p e c i a l l y i n d u s t r i a l a r t education) i n s e v e r a l European c o u n t r i e s , con- c l u d e d t h a t the i d e a s of V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , de Laborde, Merimee, were b e t t e r a p p l i e d i n other c o u n t r i e s , e s p e c i a l l y i n Belgium. He d e c l a r e d : "... the o r g a n i z a t i o n o f our a r t i s t i c and i n d u s t - r i a l e d u c a t i o n i s a work of n a t i o n a l defense of the same import- ance as the o r g a n i z a t i o n of our Army." ( Some I n d u s t r i a l A r t Schools i n Europe and t h e i r l e s s o n f o r the U.S., T r a n s l . F.N. Levy, Washington Govm. P r i n t i n g O f f i c e , 1923, p.23.) 34 See a l s o p.17 and pp.20-21. 35 For the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c tendency of French a r t i s t s to a s p i r e toward the l o f t i e r l e v e l s of a r t , see f o r example E r n e s t Chesneau, L'Education de 1 ' a r t i s t e , P a r i s : Charavay F r e r e s , 1881, p.245. Chesneau remarked t h a t i n h i s days, p a i n t e r s and s c u l p t o r s condescended to work f o r i n d u s t r y only when f o r c e d by m a t e r i a l n e c e s s i t y . See a l s o n.37. 36 Henry Nocq, Tendances N o u v e l l e s . Enqu§te sur 1'evolu- t i o n des i n d u s t r i e s d ' a r t , P a r i s : F l o u r y , 1896, p.196. 3 7 A s p e c i a l e f f o r t to a t t r a c t w r i t e r s and a r t i s t s was made f o r example by France's l e a d i n g anarchist-communist, Jean Grave and h i s La Revolte (1887-1894) or Les Temps Nouveaux (1895-1914). P i s s a r r o , Signac, Cross, Angrand, Luce, c o n t r i b u t e d to the l a t t e r . In 1893 L'Ermitage o r g a n i z e d an i n q u i r y , a s k i n g the f o l l o w i n g q u e s t i o n : " q u e l l e e s t l a m e i l l e u r e c o n d i t i o n du Bien - 191 - s o c i a l , une o r g a n i s a t i o n l i b r e e t spontanee, ou b i e n une o r g a n - i s a t i o n d i s c i p l i n e e e t methodique? v e r s l a q u e l l e de ces concep- t i o n s s o c i a l e s d o i v e n t a l l e r l e s p r e f e r e n c e s de 1 ' a r t i s t e ? " The answer i n d i c a t e d a p r e f e r e n c e f o r anarchy, because i t w a r r a n t e d the a r t i s t ' s freedom, and not f o r s o c i a l i s m - w h i c h meant t o o much o r g a n i z a t i o n and r e s t r i c t i o n s . (See M i c h e l Decaudin, La C r i s e des V a l e u r s S y m b o l ! s t e s, T o u l o u s e , 1960, p.21.) 38 R o b e r t L. H e r b e r t and E u g e n i a W. H e r b e r t , " A r t i s t s and A n a r c h i s m : U n p u b l i s h e d L e t t e r s o f P i s s a r r o , S i g n a c and o t h e r s , " P a r t I , B u r l i n g t o n e Magazine, V o l . 1 0 2 , Nov.-Dec.1960, p.481. 39 T r a n s l a t e d i n L. N o c h l i n , I m p r e s s i o n i s m and P o s t - I m p r e s s i o n i s m , P r e n t i c e - H a l l , 1966, p.124. 40 Thus commenting on a b r o c h u r e by Gustave G e f f r o y who was a d v o c a t i n g c r e a t i o n o f s m a l l neighborhood museums t o educate t h e t a s t e o f the w o r k e r s , P i s s a r r o s a i d , T h i s G e f f r o y i s r i g h t , what i s needed i s a s m a l l s c a l e K e n s i n g t o n Museum i n each neighbor- hood. But I wonder whether t h i s would be enough t o educate the poor t o a t a s t e f o r a r t o r l o v e o f i t ! As l o n g as he has t h e c a p i t a - l i s t and w r e t c h e d wages t o contend w i t h , the worker w i l l r e g a r d t h e b e a u t i f u l w i t h d e r i s i o n . . . I t i s the b u y e r s we must e d u c a t e . ( C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o , L e t t e r s t o H i s Son L u c i e n , ed. J . Rewald, N.Y., 1972, p.259.) 41 E. Chesneau, L ' E d u c a t i o n de 1 ' a r t i s t e , p.425. Chesneau w r o t e : D i e u m e r c i , l ' a r t f r a n g a i s a de p l u s f i e r e s a l l u r e s , i l p l a n e d'un v o l p l u s haut e t p l u s l a r g e au-dessus des s t a t i s t i q u e s de l ' e x p l o r - t a t i o n commerciale. Voyez: i l n ' e s t s i p e t i t e l e v e de 1'Ecole n a t i o n a l e des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s q u i n ' a s p i r e a 1'Ecole des b e a u x - a r t s , au p r i x de Rome. 42 43 See H. Nocq, Tendances N o u v e l l e s , p.130. I n o r d e r t o demonstrate t h a t the d i f f e r e n c e i n s t a t u s between " d e c o r a t i v e a r t " and " f i n e a r t " s h o u l d n o t e x i s t , V i c t o r Champier argued t h a t Raphael was not "a l e s s e r a r t i s t when he e x e c u t e d the m u r a l d e c o r a t i o n i n V a t i c a n o r t a p e s t r y c o m p o s i t i o n s , t h a n when he p a i n t e d t h e T r a n s f i g u r a t i o n . " He c o n s i d e r e d t h a t t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s r e q u i r e the same amount o f " c e r e b r a l " a c t i v i t y as h i g h a r t , and p r o t e s t e d "the a d j e c t i v e ' d e c o r a t i v e ' added t o the word ' a r t ' . . . , " because i t i m p l i e d a h i e r a r c h y among a r t s was n o t j u s t i f i e d . (See V. Champier, "M.P, -V. G a l l a n d . . , " P a r t I , 1888, pp.105-6.) See a l s o n.3 above. F o r t h e r o l e o f R. Marx i n t h e c r e a t i o n o f t h e s e c t i o n o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t s a t t h e S a l o n h e l d a t Champ de Mars, see f o r example C a m i l l e M a u c l a i r , "La reforme de l ' a r t d e c o r a t i f en F r a n c e , " La N o u v e l l e Revue, V o l . 9 8 , Jan.-Feb. 1896, p.737. The p r e s t i g i o u s j o u r n a l L ' A r t i s t e s u p p o r t e d t h e a n t i - - 192 - academic stand. Thus i n reviewing s c u l p t u r e and o b j e t s d ' a r t a t the Salon of Champ de Mars f L ' A r t i s t e , Vol.5, 1893, p.401) i t c r i t i c i z e d those e s t a b l i s h e d a r t i s t s opposed to the new p o l i c y of e x h i b i t i n g d e c o r a t i v e a r t s : "Ou l ' a r t f i n i t - i l ? Ou 1' i n d u s t r i e commence-t-elle? On d i r a i t que pour eux, l ' a r t depend du procede employe." 44 See A l f r e d D a r c e l , "Le Salon des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , " Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Ser.2, Vol.25, 1882, pp.583-595. 45 I borrowed here an e x p r e s s i o n used by M.C. Beardsley i n h i s A e s t h e t i c s , p.2 89. On the r e l a t i o n s h i p between the avant- garde and the p r i n c i p l e of " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake," see a l s o Renato P o g g i o l i , The Theory of the Avant-Garde, trans.,. G. F i t z g e r a l d , Harvard Univ. Press, 196 8, p. 127. • °-- 46 E r n e s t Chesneau ( 1833-1890) was an a r t c r i t i c ( he wrote f o r L ' A r t i s t e and the C o n s t i t u t i o n n e 1 ) and a r t h i s t o r i a n ( see f o r example Les Chefs d'Ecole, 1862). He was concerned w i t h the r e l a t i o n s between a r t and s o c i e t y , a r t and nature - he was a g a i n s t h i s t o r i c i s m and t r a d i t i o n a l formulas, f o r a regen- e r a t i o n of a r t through d i r e c t o b s e r v a t i o n of nature. He p r a i s e d o r i g i n a l i t y , i n d i v i d u a l i t y and n a t i o n a l i s m and s t r o n g l y p r o t e s t e d a g a i n s t academic t r a d i t i o n a l i s m and cosmopolitism. C See h i s L'Education de 1 ' a r t i s t e of 1881.) He was a protege of the Comte de Nieuwerkerke, Superintendent of the Beaux-Arts ( and P r i n c e s s M a t h i l d e ' s l o v e r ) , thus to a g r e a t extent on the " o f f i c i a l " s i d e . See a l s o E. Gilmore H o l t , The A r t of A l l Nations, 1981, pp.382-90, 486-90. Henry Havard was an o f f i c i a l of the Beaux-Arts adminis- t r a t i o n , c r i t i c and a u t h o r i t y on d e c o r a t i o n , as w e l l as a r t h i s t o r i a n ( l ' A r t h o l l a n d a i s ) . 4 7 See n.37. Chesneau f e a r e d t h a t the commercial success of England w i l l r e s u l t i n an i m p o s i t i o n of the B r i t i s h " t a s t e " i n France, by Government decree. ( See L'Education..., p.424.) 48 But Chesneau p r a i s e d the " p r i v a t e i n i t i a t i v e " which c r e a t e d the Union C e n t r a i e des Beaux-Arts a p p l i q u e s a l ' i n d u s - t r i e and the Musee des A r t s d e c o r a t i f s . ( L'Education..., pp.86-87 and 122.) He a l s o advocated a r e o r g a n i z a t i o n of the g e n e r a l i n s t r u c t i o n i n d e s s i n . 49 In the e a r l y 1880s, even the complete t i t l e of Union C e n t r a i e was changed to Union C e n t r a i e des.Arts d e c o r a t i f s . C Compare to the t i t l e i n the n.4 8.) See a l s o n.3, above. 50 The d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , as Chesneau r e l a t e d , d i d not t r y to express "an emotion of a moral o r d e r , " but p l a y e d with "combin- a t i o n s of the form and c o l o r f o r the p l e a s u r e of the eye." ( See L'Education..., p.20.) T h i s was the d e f i n i t i o n of " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" i n a m a t e r i a l i s t ( p h i l o s o p h y c a l l y speaking) framework o n l y : an a r t a d d r e s s i n g i t s e l f only to the senses. , As I w i l l i n d i c a t e l a t e r , from an' i d e a l i s t stand, the formalism of " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" addresses i t s e l f to the " s p i r i t . " During the 1880s and e a r l y 1890s, the most common s l o g a n was t h a t the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s g i v e p l e a s u r e to the eye and to the s p i r i t . - 193 - 51 Henry Havard, La Decoration, Paris: Charles Delagrave, n.d. (. probably 1891 or 189.2) , p. 6. 52 Paul Gauguin, l e t t e r to his wife, 26 Dec. 1886, Letters to his Wife1 and Friends, ed. M. Malingue, t r a n s l . H.J. Stenning, London: Saturn Press, 1948, pp.72-73. 53 "Lettre de Paul Gauguin," i n H. Nocq, Tendancies Nou- v e l l e s , 1896, p.67. 5 4 See for example Henri Dorra, "Extraits de l a corres- pondance,d'Emile Bernard des debuts a ( l a Rose-Croix ( 1876- 1892)," Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Ser.6, Vol.96, pp.235-6. 5 5 See :Charles Chasse, Les Nabis et leur temps, Lausanne - Paris: B i b l . des Arts, 1960, p.164. See also Post-Impress- ionism, London 1979-1980, p.31. Bernard took courses at the Ecole des Arts Decoratifs before he entered Academy Cormon i n 1885. Many a r t i s t s considered this School of Decorative Arts as a stepping-stone on t h e i r way to the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, or as Marius Vachon put i t ( see o p . c i t . i n n.30, p.37), as "the hallway to the Ecole des Beaux-Arts." 56 See Henri Dorra, o p . c i t . ( see n.54 above), p.238. 5 7 See George L. Mauner, The Nabis..., 1978, pp.161-162. 5 8 - For a detailed account of the Nabis' decorations and of t h e i r patrons, see Roseline Bacau, "Decors d'appartements au temps des Nabis," Art de France, Vol.IV, 1964, pp.190-205. See also the chapter "Les Nabis et l ' a r t decoratif" i n Bonnard, V u i l l a r d et les Nabis, Paris, June 8-Oct.2, 1955. 59 For this early support, see Roger Marx, "L'Art decoratif et les Symbolistes ," Le V o l t a i r e , 23 Aug. 1892, n.pag. , 6 0 See P. Vaisse, "La querelle de l a Tapisserie...," p.72. See also A. Darcel, "Les tapisseries decoratives," Revue des arts decoratifs, 2, 1881-82, p.12. 61 See P. Vaisse, "La querelle...," p.72. 6 2 Ibid., p.172 and pp.77-80. 6 3 My t r a n s l a t i o n from the quote given by P. Vaisse, "La querelle...," p.72. 64 A l f r e d Darcel, "Exposition de l ' h i s t o i r e de l a tapiss- e r i e , " Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Ser.2, 14, 1876, pp.185-203; pp. 273-287; pp.414-437. ^ A. Darcel, "Exposition...," Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Ser. 2, Vol.14, 1876, p.185. My t r a n s l a t i o n . 6 6 Ibid., p.420. - 194 - 6 7 See f o r example Ch. Blanc," Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , pp.106-112 and 94. See a l s o A. D a r c e l , "Les t a p i s s e r i e s dec- o r a t i v e s ," p.12. A. D a r c e l , i n " E x p o s i t i o n de l ' h i s t o i r e de l a t a p i s s - e r i e , " 18 76, p.432, t a l k s about the p u b l i c ' s and a r t i s t s ' a d m i r a t i o n f o r the 18th c e n t u r y Rococo t a p e s t r i e s : C e r t e s , l e p u b l i c , comme l e s a r t i s t e s , e s t s e d u i t p a r l a t o n a l i t S g r i s e q u i etend son harmonie s u r t o u t e s l e s t e n t u r e s a n c i e n n e s , s u r t o u t s u r c e l l e s du X V I I I e s i e c l e . D a r c e l e x p l a i n s t h a t "ce g r i s dont on p a r l e t a n t au- j o u r d ' h u i " c o u l d be o b t a i n e d a l s o u s i n g o n l y b o l d c o l o r s , pure s a t u r a t e d hues, i n s t e a d o f u s i n g g r e y i s h tones ( c o u l e u r s r a b a t t u e s ) and v a r i o u s nuances o f g r a y . The p r o c e d u r e was based on the phenomenon o f o p t i c a l ( a d d i t i v e ) m i x t u r e o f c o l o r s . I t was the method d e v e l o p e d by the t a p i s s i e r D e y r o l l e around 1812, c o n s i s t i n g o f superposed w e f t s o f complementary c o l o r s . P i s s a r r o and Cezanne e x p r e s s e d a l r e a d y i n 1866 t h e i r i n t e r e s t i n t h i s grey t o n a l i t y . ( See P. Cezanne, l e t t e r t o P i s s a r r o , 23 Oct. 1866, L e t t e r s , N.Y. 1876, p.115.) Edouard Gerspach, D a r c e l ' s s u c c e s s o r a t the a d m i n i s - t r a t i o n o f the G o b e l i n s , between 1885-1893, made t h i s comment about the "Don Q u i c h o t t e " t a p e s t r y a f t e r the c a r t o o n s o f Charles C o y p e l : V o i l a done une t e n t u r e b i e n a nous; e l l e r e u n i t t o u t e s l e s s e d u i s a n t e s q u a l i t e s de n o t r e a r t d e c o r a t i f dans sa p l u s a i m a b l e e t p l u s d e l i c a t e p e r i o d e . ( E. Gerspach, La Manufacture N a t i o n a l e des G o b e l i n s , P a r i s : D e l a g r a v e , 1892, p.43.) Gerspach ( l o c . c i t . ) p r a i s e d b o t h the p a i n t e r s o f t h a t p e r i o d f o r t h e i r models, and the t a p i s s i e r s , who, ...ont compri l e modele a s o u h a i t , i l s o n t rendu l e c a r a c t e r e sans se l a i s s e r e n t r a i n e r dans des d e m i - t e i n t e s e t des s u b t i l i t e s i n u t i l e s , i l s se.. s o n t p l u s l e s l u m i e r e s e l a r g i e s ; en un mot, i l s o n t , comme l e s p e i n t r e s , f a i t oeuvre t r e s f r a n c a i s e . 103, 68 69 70 71 72 On the t o p i c o f " e f f e c t " , see l a t e r , p. 40. See Ch. B l a n c , Grammaire des a r t d e c o r a t i f s , pp.101, H. Havard, La D e c o r a t i o n , pp.10-11. I b i d . , p.10. On the s u b j e c t o f m o d e l l i n g i n t a p e s t r y , see a l s o C h . I I , P a r t 2, n.105. 73 Quoted i n P. V a i s s e , "La q u e r e l l e . . . , " p.71. My t r a n s l a t i o n . 74 For D a r c e l see A. D a r c e l , " E x p o s i t i o n . . . , " 1876, p.426, and f o r C a l m e t t e s , see Fernand C a l m e t t e s , "La l o i de l a t a p i s s - e r i e , " Lei Revue de l ' a r t a n c i e n e t moderne, Vol'. 16, 1904, p.118. - 195 - 75 The quote i s from Georg German/ Gothic R e v i v a l i n Europe and B r i t a i n , Tr, G. Onn, 1972/ p.135. For Didron's " p r i n c i p l e s , " s e e Edouard Didron, "Du r o l e d e c o r a t i f de l a p e i n t u r e en m o s a i q u e , G a z e t t e des Beaux-Arts, Vol.11, 1875, p.4 50. Didron c o n s i d e r e d Raphael's t a p e s t r i e s as examples of "bad t a p e s t r i e s , " because they were conceived as tableaux. 76 E. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , D i c t i o n n a i r e r a i s o n n e de 1 ' a r c h i - t e c t u r e f r a n c a i s e , x i e - x v i e s i e c l e s , 10 volumes, 1858^-1868; r p t . P a r i s : L i b r . - Imprim. Reunies, n.d., V o l . V I I , p.58. 77 These movements were stronger i n 1830s and 1840s. S i m i l a r l y to Pugin, the C a t h o l i c L i b e r a l p o l i t i c i a n Montalam- b e r t ( 1810-1870) s a i d f o r example, t h a t the a r t i s t i c t a s t e had been " f a l s e , r i d i c u l o u s and pagan" ever s i n c e the Renaissance. ( Quoted from Charles-Rene Forbes de Montalambert, OEuvres, VI: Melanges d ' a r t e t de l i t t e r a t u r e , P a r i s , 1861, p.42, i n G. German, Gothic R e v i v a l , p.79.) One of the most important e a r l y f i g u r e s i n the French Gothic R e v i v a l movement ( the study of which, as German p o i n t e d out " i s s t i l l i n i t s i n f a n c y " - op. c i t . , p.78) was Alexandre ( Louis-Joseph) de Laborde ( 1761- 1839). Even though V i o l l e t - l e - D u c advocated Gothic R e v i v a l more f o r n a t i o n n a l i s t i c than r e l i g i o u s reasons, he was i n a c c o r - dance with L a c o r d a i r e and h i s Dominican R e v i v a l ( neo-Catholic) movement, e s p e c i a l l y w i t h r e s p e c t to r a t i o n a l i s m and s i m p l i c i t y , even a s c e t i s m . .( See Lucy MacClintock, "Monumentality versus s u i t a b i l i t y : V i o l l e t - l e - D u c ' s S a i n t Gimer a t Carcassone," J o u r n a l of the Soc. Arch. H i s t . , XL, No.3, Oct.1981, 218-235.) Michael Paul D r i s k e l has w r i t t e n a book on the r e l a t i o n of the i d e o l o g y Of the n e o - C a t h o l i c movement t o . t h e v i s u a l a r t s d u r i n g the 1830s and 1840s, which i s near completion. 7 8 See f o r example V. Champier, "M.P.-V. G a l l a n d . . . , " P a r t I I , 1888, p.10. 79 See Ch.I, P a r t 1, p.- 16. 80 For Havard, see Henry Havard, H i s t o i r e e t p h i l o s o p h i e des s t y l e s , P a r i s , 1900, pp.692-96. For V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , see h i s D i c t i o n n a i r e raisonne de 1 ' a r c h i t e c t u r e . . . , V o l . V I I , pp. 57-58. L a t e r he wrote: La p e i n t u r e monumentale reprendra l e rang q u ' e l l e a occupe & q u ' e l l e d o i t occuper dans 1 1 a r c h i t e c t u r e , l o r s q u e l e s abus d e c o r a t i f s de notre temps auront f a t i g u e l e s yeux, l o r s - qu'en b i e n d'autre choses,- car t o u t se t i e n t dans une s o c i e t e , - on en v i e n d r a a s'eprendre du v r a i , du j u s t e & du sense, a mepriser l e luxe i m p e r t i n e n t comme un signe de decadence. ( E. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , . i n P e i n t u r e murales des c h a p e l l e s de Notre Dame de P a r i s , P a r i s , 1876, p.14.) By the " d e c o r a t i v e abuses of our time" ( " d e c o r a t i v e " . i n a " m a t e r i a l i s t " sense) he meant the c o l o r f u l , trompe-1'oeil d e c o r a t i o n of Baroque-Romantic t r a d i t i o n . He d e c l a r e d that, - 196 - " l e s e s p r i t s a i n s eprouvent l e b e s b i n de r e v e n i r aux formes v r a i e s , aux moyens simples,, aux e x p r e s s i o n s n e t t e s & d e f i n i e s . " V i o l l e t - l e - D u c wanted a d e c o r a t i o n i n which "the i d e a detaches i t s e l f c l e a r l y . " 81 E. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , D i c t i o n n a i r e . . . , V o l . V I I , p.78. He a l s o s a i d (. o p . c i t . , p.62): Ce n ' e t a i t done pas sans r a i s o n que l e s p e i n t r e s du moyen age v o y a i e n t dans l a p e i n t u r e , s o I t qu 1 e l l e f i g u r a t des scenes, s o i t q u ' e l l e ne se com- posSt que d'ornements, une s u r f a c e q u i d e v a i t t o u j o u r s p a r a x t r e plane, s o l i d e , q u i e t a i t des- t i n e e non a p r o d u i r e une i l l u s i o n , mais une i l l - u s i o n , mais une harmonie. 8 2 E. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , D i c t i o n n a i r e . . . , V o l . V I I , p.65. 83 I b i d . p.59. See a l s o pp.63, 69, 70. He g i v e s as best example the p a i n t i n g s i n the L i g e t Chapel. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c ' s own mural p a i n t i n g i n Notre Dame's chapels ( P a r i s ) i s done a c c o r d i n g to these p e r c e p t s . 84 H. Havard, L ' A r t dans l a maxson, Parxs: Rouveyre e t Blond, 1884, p.306. 8 5 Alphonse Germain, "Theorie des deformateurs. Expose e t r e f u t a t i o n , " La Plume, No.57, S e p t . l , 1891, p.290. My emphasis, and t r a n s l a t i o n . See a l s o Ch.I, P a r t 2, n.24 on Germain. 86 Ch. Blanc, Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , 1867, p.631 and 632. My t r a n s l a t i o n . See a l s o H. Havard, La Decoration, p. 3 and p..7, and V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , D i c t i o n n a i r e . . . , V o l . V I I , pp.62, 65. 8 7 Ch. B.lanc, Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , 18.82, p. 66. 8 8 E. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , D i c t i o n n a i r e . . . , V o l . V I I , p.61. 89 Ch. Blanc, Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , 1867, p.536. 90 On " e f f e c t " see a l s o A. Boime, The Academy..., pp.27-30, 150-153, 166-173. 9.1 See Ch. Blanc, Grammaire...dessin, 1867, pp.543-44. 9 2 I b i d . , p.590 and 586. 93 A l f r e d D a r c e l c o n t r i b u t e d to the Annales archeologxques ( see p.27) and was a f r i e n d of the Gothic R e v i v a l i s t a r c h i t e c t Lassus. Roujon, the d i r e c t o r of the Beaux-Arts, d e c l a r e d i n h i s eulogy, a t D a r c e l ' s death: A l'exemple des V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , des Lassus, des Merimee e t des Quicherat, i l c o n t r i b u a 5. remettre en honneur 1'archeologie du moyen Sge e t de l a Renaissance, e t s u r t o u t notre - 19 7 - 94 moyen Sge f r a n c a i s , s i mal connu, s i i n j u s t e - ment dedaigne. C See "La mort de M. A l f r e d D a r c e l , " Revue des Arts- D e c o r a t i f s , 13, 1892-1893, p.407.) A. D a r c e l , "Le Salon des A r t s D e c o r a t i f s , " Gazette des Beaux-Arts, Per.2, Vol.25, 1882, p.584. My emphasis. 95 Even f o r a t a b l e a u , by 1860s, a p a r t from such orthodox academicians as Ingres, the q u e s t i o n of f i n i s h was not a r i g i d c r i t e r i o n any more. I t was s t r i c t l y connected w i t h "the touch" t. l a touche)", which was c o n s i d e r e d a p e r s o n a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the p a i n t e r . There were no r i g i d r u l e s of " f i n i s h , " as they would i n t e r f e r e w i t h the concept of " o r i g i n a l i t y " ( see A. Boime The Academy..., p p . l 7 2 f f , and A. Boime, "The Teaching Reforms pp.20-22). La touche, s a i d Blanc, " c ' e s t l ' e c r i t u r e du p e i n t r e , c ' e s t l a frappe de son e s p r i t . " ( Grammaire...dessin, p.612.) As a very g e n e r a l r u l e , as a " l o i du goQt," he r e - commends "que l a touch d o i t @tre l a r g e dans l e s grands ouvrages, e t p r e c i e u s e dans l e s p e t i t s " (op. c i t . , p.613). / He c a u t i o n s though t h a t " I I n'est que l e s d e c o r a t i o n s de t h e a t r e ou l a brosse p u i s s e e t r e mahiee comme un b a l a i . " ( Op. c i t . , p.614.) A c c o r d i n g to Blanc, i n a s m a l l t a b l e a u , " F i n i r , c ' e s t p r e c i s e - ment d i s s i m u l e r l e f i n i , c ' e s t l'animer par quelques touches e x p r e s s i v e s q u i l u i p r g t e n t un a i r de f r a n c h i s e e t de l i b e r t e . " (Ibid.) 96 97 9 8 99 A. D a r c e l , "Le S a l o n . . . , " 1882, p.584. My emphasis, See a l s o Ch.I, P a r t 1, n.3 and n.43. V. Champier, "M. P.-V. G a l l a n d . . . , " P a r t I I , p.10. I b i d . , p.8 100 I b i d . , p.9. I b i d . T h i s d i d not mean i t should be a d i f f e r e n c e i n H. Havard, La Decoration, p.3. 101 s t a t u s . 102 103 E. Chesneau, L'Education..., p.271. ( T h i s s e c t i o n of the book was w r i t t e n i n 18 7 2.) My emphasis. 104 Chesneau p o i n t e d out t h a t " A r t f o r a r t ' s sake was the d o c t r i n e of the Romantic School." 105 See E. Chesneau, L'Education..., pp.350-51. The mat- e r i a l i s t i c c o n n o t a t i o n was t r a n s l a t e d i n a l l these elements t h a t , as Chesneau put i t , "simulate l i f e , " such as: ...un a d r o i t maniement de brosse, un h a b i l e t r i p o t a g e de c o u l e u r s , l e s s e d u i s a n t s a r t i - f i c e s de l a p a l e t t e , l e s harmonies du ton, l e s n o i r s profonds, l e s g r l s d e l i c a t s , l e s v i b r a t i o n s a l t e r n e e s de l a c o u l e u r dominante, - 198 - v a r i e e par m i l l e r a p p e l s de notes emises dans l a irieme t o n a l i t e , mais a d i f f e r e n t s degres de 1 ' e c h e l l e c h r o m a t i q u e . . . 106 Ch. B l a n c . " S a l o n de 1866," G a z e t t e des B e a u x - A r t s , S e r . l , V o l . 2 0 , 1866, p.501. He s a i d , Les v i e i l l e s q u e r e l l e s du romantisme c o n t r e l e s c l a s s i q u e s ne s o n t p l u s que de l ' h i s t o i r e , e t s ' i l r e s t e encore deux camps, c e l u i du s t y l e e t c e l u i du r e a l i s m e , - on d i t main- t e n a n t par euphonie n a t u r a l i s m e - l e s deux camps o n t a u t a n t de v o i x l ' u n que 1'autre dans l e t r i b u n a l q u i d o i t l e s j u g e r . . . My emphasis on " s t y l e . " ( The c o n c e p t o f " S t y l e " w i l l be d i s - c u s s e d more l a t e r - C h a p t e r I , P a r t 1, n.114.) 107 See Ch. B l a n c . "Les f r e s q u e s de Veronese au Chateau de Masere p r e s de T r e v i s e , " G a z e t t e des B e a u x - A r t s , S e r . 2 , 1878, pp.396-98. Compare w i t h V. Champier ( see n.43), o r Roger B a l l u , "Les d e r n i e r s t r a v a u x de p e i n t u r e d e c o r a t i v e a P a r i s , " •Gazette des B e a u x - A r t s , V o l . 1 7 , Jan.-June 1878, p.144. 10 8 Ch. B l a n c , Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , p.118. He a l s o s a i d , S i l ' a r t n ' e t a i t pas a u t r e chose qu'une s i m p l e c o p i e de l a n a t u r e , i l s e r a i t l e p l u s souvent une t e n t a t i v e i n u t i l e , un pleonasme. C'est s u r t o u t dans l ' a r t d e c o r a t i f que c e t t e v e r i t e 109 110 ce m a n i f e s t . ( Op. c i t , p.386.) I b i d . , p.3 86. I b i d . , p.387. For B l a n c ' s d i s c u s s i o n o f c o l o u r sym- b o l i s m , see "Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , " G a z e t t e des Beaux- A r t s , S e r . 2 , V o l . 3 , 1870, pp.524-528. 1 X 1 Roger B a l l u , "Les d e r n i e r s t r a v a u x de p e i n t u r e dec- o r a t i v e . . . , " p.150. 1 1 2 A. D a r c e l , "Le S a l o n . . . , " 1882, p.588. The c o n t r a r y o p i n i o n was h e l d by A n t o n i n P r o u s t , "Le S a l o n de 1882," G a z e t t e des B e a u x - A r t s , V o l . 2 5 , 1882, p. 53-4. A. P r o u s t was f o r a s h o r t time m i n i s t e r o f a r t s . 113 H. Havard, La D e c o r a t i o n , p.16. 114 " S t y l e " (. t o be d i s t i n g u i s h e d from "a s t y l e " ) was d e f i n e d i n B l a n c ' s Grammaire as " t y p i c a l t r u t h " : Le s t y l e , c ' e s t l a v e r i t e a g r a n d i e , s i m p l i f l e e , degagee de tous l e s d e t a i l s i n s i g n i f i a n t s , rendue a son essence o r i g i n - e l l e , a son a s p e c t t y p i q u e . ( Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , 1882, p.532.) B l a n c c l e a r l y opposed " S t y l e " t o " i m i t a t i o n " ( o p . c i t . , pp.17-21). He c o n s i d e r e d r e a l i s m an " i m i t a t i o n w i t h o u t s e l e c - t i o n " and he h e l d the o p i n i o n t h a t "where t h e r e i s no s e l e c t i o n - 199 - made, t h e r e i s no a r t " ( o p . c i t . , p.18 and p.666, r e s p e c t i v e l y ) . Academic p a i n t i n g used S t y l e ( l e s t y l e ) i n o r d e r t o " i d e a l i z e " (see Grammaire, 1882, p.469). But t h i s was the " i d e a l i z i n g " the S y m b o l i s t c r i t i c A u r i e r w i l l c r i t i c i s e (see C h . I , P a r t 2, Sec."B") as n o t b e i n g t h e e x p r e s s i o n o f an i d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h y . Ch. B l a n c (who a c t u a l l y e x p r e s s e d i n many i n s t a n c e s h i s i d e a - l i s t i n c l i n a t i o n s ) p r e s e n t e d i n h i s book the Academic v e r s i o n o f the " i d e a l . " He d e c l a r e d t h a t i n p a i n t i n g , " f a r from b e i n g synonymous w i t h the i m a g i n a r y , the i d e a l i s the c o n c e n t r a t i o n o f t r u t h , the essence o f t h e r e a l , " and d e f i n e d b o t h "beauty" ( l e beau)and " s t y l e " ( l e s t y l e ) as "the t y p i c a l t r u t h " ( l a v e r i t e t y p i q u e ) - o p . c i t . , p.65. I n p a i n t i n g , " S t y l e " meant a way o f drawing t h a t a b b r e v i a t e d and s i m p l i f i e d i n o r d e r t o e x p r e s s t h e " c h a r a c t e r " o f t h e s u b j e c t (and B l a n c emphasized t h a t as opposed t o s c u l p t u r e , i n p a i n t i n g e x p r e s s i o n i s more i m p o r t a n t t h a n b e a u t y , and t h a t a l l o w s even f o r e x p r e s s i n g some u g l i n e s s - o p . c i t . , p . 6 6 ) , u s u a l l y i n an i d e a l i z e d manner. P.V. G a l l a n d , who advocated t h e use o f m o t i f s t a k e n from N a t u r e , l o n g b e f o r e the appearance o f A r t Nouveau, emphasized t h e importance o f r e n d e r i n g t h e " c h a r a c t e r " i n t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s : Le p r i n c i p e de l ' a r t d e c o r a t i f c ' e s t l a s u b o r d i n a t i o n a 1 ' a r c h i t e c t u r e . Nous n'avons pas a donner 1 ' i l l u s i o n de l a v e r i t e ; . . . M a i s i l f a u t que l ' i n t e r p r e - t a t i o n que nous f a i s o n s s u b i r a ces d i v e r s elements s o i t t o u j o u r s i n s p i r e e p a r l a . l o g i q u e e t guidee p a r l e r e s p e c t , 1'amour de l a n a t u r e . Remplacons l ' a t t a i t de l a v e r i t e dans l e d e s s i n , p a r l e c a r a c t e r e de l a s i l h o u e t t e e t l a l a r g e u r de l a f a c t u r e . (Reproduced i n V. Champier, "M.P.-V. G a l l a n d e t 1'enseignement de l ' a r t d e c o r a t i f , " P a r t I I , G.B.A., V o l . 3 8 , 1888, p.19. G a l l a n d emphasized t h e n e c e s s i t y f o r " c l a r i t y " i n d e c o r a t i o n . ) I n 1882, A. D a r c e l enumerated t h e " c o n d i t i o n s o f dec- o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " (meaning p a i n t i n g as " d e c o r a t i o n " ) t h a t i n c l u d e d s p e c i f i c r e f e r e n c e t o " S t y l e . " (See Ch.I, P a r t 1, n.94.) 115 T h i s was Ch. B l a n c ' s p o s i t i o n . He h e l d t h e o l d academic t h e o r y about " l i n e " b e i n g r e l a t e d t o the i n t e l l e c t and " c o l o u r " t o t h e h e a r t (or as he p u t i t , "The drawing i s o f mas- c u l i n e s e x . " - see Grammaire...dessin, 1867, p.22). He a l s o b e l i e v e d i n the i r r e c o n c i l a b i l i t y o f S t y l e ( r e l a t e d t o L i n e ) and C o l o u r , w h i c h amounted t o the b e l i e f t h a t whenever the two elements a r e u n i t e d , one o f them i s always dominant. (See Ch. B l a n c , " S a l o n de 1866," G.B.A., V o l . 2 0 , 1866, pp.507, 508, 513.) C o l o u r was supposed t o be "the n a t u r a l enemy o f s t y l e , because i t has the tendency t o p a r t i c u l a r i z e t h a t w h i c h t h e s t y l e wants t o g e n e r a l i z e . " ( O p . c i t . , p.507.) T h i s was p a r t i c u l a r l y t r u e when b o l d , b r i l l i a n t c o l o u r s were used; c o l o u r had the tendency ''to l e s s e n " and " t o m a t e r i a l i z e " t h a t w h i c h was " e l e v a t e d " and i d e a l i z e d by S t y l e . (See o p . c i t . , p.513.) Of c o u r s e , when S t y l e i s d e f i n e d as " t y p i c a l t r u t h , " w i t h the u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h a t t h i s i s e x t r a c t e d from t h e r e a l , - 200 - e x t e r n a l , w o r l d , t h e r e i s no a p p a r e n t r e a s o n why i t s h o u l d r e f t o drawing (. l i n e ) o n l y . I n f a c t , l a t e r i n the c e n t u r y , such p r e j u d i c e s w i l l d i s a p p e a r . A l r e a d y i n 1893 c r i t i c s such as R Bouyer s a i d : " C ' e s t une e r r e u r que de b o r n e r l e s t y l e aux c o r r e c t i o n s de l a l i g n e ; " o r v i c e v e r s a , "La l i g n e n ' e s t pas l ' e s c l a v e du ' s t y l e n o b l e ' ." ( Raymond Bouyer, "Le paysage dans l ' a r t , " L ' A r t i s t e , J u l y 1893, p.44.) 1 1 6 See Ch.I, P a r t 1, pp.34-35. 117 An a b s t r a c t o r n a m e n t a l d e s i g n , such as the "arabesque f o r example, was a d d r e s s e d " t o the s p i r i t , t o r e a s o n , w i t h o u t p a s s i n g t h r o u g h the h e a r t . " ( See Ch.I, P a r t 2, n.69.) 118 T h i s i s c l e a r l y e x p r e s s e d i n H. Havard, La D e c o r a t i o n P-19 : Nous avons d i t que l e r61e d'une d e c o r a t i o n b i e n comprise e t a i t , a v a n t t o u t , de c r e e r un p l a i s i r pour l e s yeux en m§me temps qu'un repos pour 1 ' e s p r i t . I l f a u t , par consequent, r e - noncer en p r i n c i p e a ces f i g u r a t i o n s q u i s i m u l e n t un e f f o r t p e r s i s t a n t , e t dont l a con- t e m p l a t i o n ne m a n q u e r a i t pas de d e v e n i r f a t i g u a n t e a l a longue. P r e v i o u s l y , B l a n c wrote ( Ch. B l a n c , Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , pp.96-98), S i quelque p a r t s o n t b i e n venues l e s f i c t i o n s du p o ^ t e e t l e s personnages de c o n v e n t i o n e t l e s c o u l e u r s de f a n t a i s i e , c ' e s t assurement s u r ces p a r o i s t i s s e e s q u i d o i v e n t t o u t ensemble r e p o s e r l a vue, i n t r i g u e r 1 ' i m a g i n a t i o n e t , sans imposer aucune f a t i g u e a 1 ' e s p r i t , l e charmer par l e vague m§me de l e u r s m o t i f s e t p a r 1 ' i n - d e c i s i o n de l e u r s c o n t o u r s . - 201 - Chapter I, P a r t 2 See Ch.I, P a r t 1, n.115, and a l s o n.114 on S t y l e . 2 At the time a l s o p a i n t i n g s , such as C o r o t ' s , were con- s i d e r e d " d e c o r a t i v e " because of t h e i r " a r c h i t e c t u r e . " A l f r e d D a r c e l , i n "Le Salon des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , " Gazette des Beaux- A r t s , Vol.25, Per.2, 1882, p.591, s a i d (when t a l k i n g about Cazin's l a n d s c a p e s ) : "... mais e l l e s n'ont point, encore c e t t e a r c h i t e c t u r e des t e r r a i n s e t des p l a n t e s q u i rendent s i decora- t i v e s l e s moindres compositions de Corot." Raymond Bouyer C "Le Paysage dans l ' a r t , " L ' A r t i s t e , Aug.1893, p.119) a l s o c o n s i d e r e d Corot " d e c o r a t i v e , " which f o r him meant i n the same category w i t h Poussin. See a l s o n.75 below. 3 The e x p r e s s i o n " I d e a l i s t Renaissance" was used by the c r i t i c Georges Lecomte, "Salon des XX," L ' A r t Moderne, Vol.12, no.9, Feb. 1892, p.66. 4 In 1879 the Republicans achieved a m a j o r i t y i n the French Senate. T h i s year marks the end of the so c a l l e d "Monarchist R e p u b l i c , " t h a t i s the d e f e a t of the Right and the beginning of the "Republic of the Republicans." 5 See f o r example R.D. Anderson, France 1870-1914. P o l i - t i c s and S o c i e t y , 1977, p.16, or Gordon Wright, France i n Modern Times, 1974, pp.248-49. ^ C. P i s s a r r o , l e t t e r of 13 May 1891, L e t t e r s to h i s Son L u c i e n , 1972, pp.170-71. 7 On the p a r t i c i p a t i o n of the avant-garde i n t h i s " I d e a l i s t Renaissance" see f o r example Sven Loevgren, The Genesis of Modernism, 1971, Robert Goldwater, Symbolism, 1979, or H.R. Rookmaaker, S y n t h e t i s t A r t T h e o r i e s , 19 59. The reasons of t h i s p a r t i c i p a t i o n v a r i e s from d i s g u s t with the m a t e r i a l i s m of the bourgeois s o c i e t y , to an a f f i l i a t i o n w i t h the C a t h o l i c Right because of p e r s o n a l c o n v i c t i o n . One reason which should not be overlooked i n the p a i n t e r s ' case i s what k i n d of a r t t h e i r patrons ( the e l i t e of amateurs) wanted, or they thought they wanted under the i n f l u e n c e of " o f f i c i a l " a u t h o r i t i e s i n the f i e l d of a e s t h e t i c s . The l a t t e r showed, as we have seen, a pronounced i d e a l i s t i c tendency. 8 A f t e r a l l , mysticism invaded the work of such "Salon N a t u r a l i s t s " as B a s t i e n Lepage and e s p e c i a l l y ( s i n c e he l i v e d longer) of h i s f r i e n d Dagnan-Bouveret. See f o r example G a b r i e l P. Weisberg, "P.A.J. Dagnan-Bouveret, J u l e s Bastien-Lepage, and the N a t u r a l i s t I n s t i n c t , " A r t s Magazine, A p r i l 1982, p.76. - 202 - 9. M e l l e r i o i n c l u d e d ; the "Chromo^Luminarists" by whom he meant the Neo^Impressionists, u s i n g t h e i r o l d names .as w e l l as the " N e o - I m p r e s s i o n i s t s b y whom he meant Schuffenecker, Tou- l o u s e - L a u t r e c , i b e l s , Anquetin and G u l i l a u m i n y the " S y n t h e t i s t s " - " S e r u s i e r , V u i l l a r d , Bonnard, Ranson, V a l l o t t o n , as w e l l as the " M y s t i c s " - Denis, Bernard, F i l i g e r . He added Puvis de Chavannes, Moreau, Redon, Gauguin, Cezanne and Van Gogh- as the a r t i s t s from whom t h i s I d e a l i s t Movement descended. i 0 Andre M e l l e r i o ( Le Mouvement I d e a l i s t e en P e i n t u r e , 1896, pp.9-10) gave the f o l l o w i n g d e f i n i t i o n of the " I d e a l i s t Movement" t h a t took p l a c e i n p a i n t i n g : La tendance d ' a r t i s t e s cherchant a echapper a l a contingence par 1' i n s p i r a t i o n e t l e mode : ; H d'expression. En d'autre termes - t a n d i s que l e r e a l i s t e prend pour but f i n a l de r e p r o d u i r e l a nature dans l a s e n s a t i o n d i r e c t e q u ' e l l e f a i t eprouver - 1 ' i d e a l i s t e ne veut y v o i r que l e p o i n t de depart e l o i g n e de son oeuvre. Tout r e s i d e pour l u i dans l a t r a n s f o r m a t i o n c e r e b r a l e , entierement sub- j e c t i v e , que l u i f a i t s u b i r notre e s p r i t . I l ne s ' a g i t p l u s de s e n s a t i o n , c ' e s t - a - d i r e de l a chose pere ue independamment de l a Volonte, mais de 1'idee que nous en degageons, pur concept que 1'.artiste cherchera a exprimer uniquement, sans se preoccuper des exactes o b j e c t i v i t e s q u i en ont ete l a cause. ± X There i s a s i m i l a r i t y w i t h the n e o - C a t h o l i c movement of the 1830 and 1840s with r e s p e c t to t h e i r e l a t i o n s h i p between i d e o l o g y and a r t . They demanded then, " m y s t i c a l composition," " e x p r e s s i o n of a Symbol, not a m a t e r i a l a c t i o n , " " i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the i d e a and not the r e p r o d u c t i o n of a f a c t , " and h i e r a t i c a r t . ( See the quote from L ' A r t i s t e of 1841, i n M.P. D r i s k e l , "Icon and N a r r a t i v e i n the A r t of Ingres," A r t s Magazine, Dec. 1981, p.104.) 12 Roger Marx, "Les Salons de 1895," Gaz. des Beaux-Arts, 3 d Ser., Vol.14, 1895, p.24. 13 I b i d . , pp. (22-23). 14 I b i d . , p.23. 1 5 Roger Marx, " L ' A r t D e c o r a t i f e t l e s ' Symbolistes; '". Le V o l t a i r e , 2 3 Aug. 1892,n.p. 16 Maurice Denis, T h e o r i e s , 1913, p.267, from h i s a r t i c l e "De Gauguin e t de van Gogh au C l a s s i c i s m e , ". L 'Occident, May 1909. Denis a t the time was i n t e r e s t e d i n p r o v i n g the c o n t i n - u i t y between Symbolism and C l a s s i c i s m , but he was not f a r from the t r u t h . A f t e r a l l a l r e a d y i n 1893 Bouyer c a l l e d Puvis de Chavannes the "neo-Poussin of the f r e s c o " ( L ' A r t i s t e , Aug.1893, p. 113) and©talking about "the dreams noted down by P a u l Gauguin," or about - 203 - ...ces " p e i n t r e s i d e i s t e s " qui. o n t l e s sympathies d'Alphonse Germain ou des F e l i x Feneon, ces de- c o r a t e u r s l a r g e s e t r a f f i n e s , comme a l e x a n d r i n s , q u i f o n t du Lac, de l a Mer ou du F l e u v e l ' e n v e l - ';• oppe d'un symbole. he..concluded: C'est encore l a s y n t h e s e q u i r g a g i t a son: t o u r e t a son heure c o n t r e l e trompe-1 ' o e i ' l ; quand l e s t o i l e s quelconques p u l l u l e n t , l e s t y l e r e d e v i e n t ce q u ' i l e s t : 1 ' e x p r e s s i o n du c h o i x , essence de l ' A r t . Le s o u c i du s t y l e dans l e paysage r a j e u n i r a l e paysage de s t y l e . ( X ' A r t i s t e , J u l y 1893, pp.37-38.) Bouyer a l s o d e f i n e d S t y l e as "a v o l u n t a r y c o n v e n t i o n r e l a t e d t o the I d e a " , ( " l e S t y l e , c o n v e n t i o n v o l o n t a i r e , >. - s ' a t t a c h a n t a l ' I d e e " ) . See L ' A r t i s t e , Aug. 1893, p.114." 17 See f o r example Gauguin's l e t t e r t o Ch. M o r i c e o f J u l y 1901 ( L e t t e r s , pp.226-227) i n w h i c h he d e s c r i b e s the d i f f e r e n c e between h i m s e l f and P u v i s de.Chavannes. Gauguin was s t i l l t a l k i n g i n 1901 i n the S y m b o l i s t language o f M a l l a r m e e , who a c c e p t e d o n l y " a l l u s i o n , " "the image emanating from the dream w h i c h the o b j e c t s e x c i t e , " ' and who a c c e p t e d o n l y the " s u g g e s t i o n " o f o b j e c t s , s i n c e " t o name an o b j e c t i s t o s u p p r e s s t h r e e - q u a r t e r s o f the enjoyment o f the pOem." ( S e e the quote from J . H u r e t ' s Enquete s u r 1 ' e v o l u t i o n l i t t e r a i r e , 1891, p.60, i n P o s t - T m p r e s s i o n i s m , London, 1979-1980, p.17.) By comparison, the manuals o f d e c o r a t i o n such as Havard's La D e c o r a t i o n o f 1892, w h i l e s t i l l t a l k i n g about making c o n c r e t e "the i d e a " and "the thought" (as opposed t o an " e x t e r n a l , " s u p e r f i c i a l a r t o f d e c o r a t i o n t h a t i n a few y e a r s was to become the p r e p o n d e r a n t meaning o f "the d e c o r a t i v e " - see M a u c l a i r ' s a r t i c l e o f 1896 f u r t h e r on) b a n i s h e d a l l o b s c u r e a l l e g o r i e s t h a t c o u l d n o t be e a s i l y u n d e r s t o o d and r e q u i r e d from the v i e w e r an e f f o r t o f the i n t e l l i g e n c e o r a " t e n s i o n o f the s p i r i t . " ( See P a r t 1, n. 118 and Havard, La D e c o r a t i o n , p. 16. 18 I n 1891 M a l l a r m e , s a i d : " . . . i l n'y a pas de p r o s e : i l y a 1'alphabet e t p u i s des v e r s p l u s ou moins s e r r e s : p l u s ou moins d i f f u s . " (Stephane M a l l a r m e , Oeuvres Completes, P a r i s : 1945, p.867) 19 See n.16 above, and a l s o C h . l , P a r t 1, n.114, f o r " S t y l e . " I n h i s l e t t e r o f 8 October 1888 t o S c h u f f e n e c k e r , Gauguin w r o t e : " T h i s y e a r I have s a c r i f i c e d a l l , e x e c u t i o n and c o l o u r i n g , f o r S t y l e , i n t e n d i n g t o compel m y s e l f t o do something d i f f e r e n t from what I u s u a l l y do." (. M. M a l i n g u e ed., P a u l Gauguin, L e t t e r s t o h i s W i f e and F r i e n d s , 1949, p.105.) 20 From "Notes i n e d i t e s d'Emile B e r n a r d s u r l e Symbolisme," i n E. B e r n a r d , 1868-1941. P e i n t u r e s , D e s s i n s , G r a v u r e s , L i l l e - P a l a i s des. B e a u x - A r t s , A p r i l 12 - June 12 1967, p.10. The no- - 204 - t e s a r e n o t d a t e d , b u t s i n c e he mentioned D e n i s ' T h e o r i e s , they a r e w r i t t e n a f t e r 1913. 21 See C h . I , P a r t 1, p. and n.110. 22 M a u r i c e D e n i s , b e g i n n i n g i n 1890, s t r e s s e d p u r e l y forma- l i s t means o f e x p r e s s i o n , one o f the most e x p l i c i t i n s t a n c e s b e i n g h i s a r t i c l e o f 1895, "A propos de 1 ' e x p o s i t i o n d'A.Seguin," La Plume, March 1 s t (see T h e o r i e s , p . 2 2 ) , where he s a i d , r e - f e r r i n g t o the p a i n t e r s " S y n t h e t i s t s o r S y m b o l i s t s " : I l s p r e f g r a i e n t 1 ' e x p r e s s i o n p a r l e d e c o r , l a forme, l a c o u l e u r , l a m a t i e r e employee a l ' e x p r e s s i o n p a r l e s u j e t . Ce q u ' i l s e x p r i - m a i e n t , c ' e t a i t b i e n l e u r i d e a l , l e u r v i s i o n de l a v i e , l e u r emotion devant l e s c h o s e s ; m a i l i l s ne 1 ' e x p r i m a i e n t que p a r des moyens p i t t o r e s q u e s . I n h i s "Notes i n e d i t e s " (see n.20, above) B e r n a r d c l a i m e d t o have pronounced a t a much e a r l i e r time "the i d e a l i s t s e n t e n c e : see the s t y l e and not t h e ' o b j e c t . " He a l s o c l a i m e d t h a t i n an i n t e r v i e w i n t h e Echo o f 1892 ( a c t u a l l y o f the end o f 1891) he s a i d : "Je cherche un a r t q u i s e r a i t l ' e x p r e s s i o n de n o t r e epoque; un a r t q u i e m p l o i e r a i t l a forme pour e x p r i m e r l e s t y l e e t l a c o u l e u r pour d e t e r m i n e r l e s e t a t s . " What he a c t u a l l y s a i d t h e n was: Je r e v e r a i s de c r e e r un s t y l e h i e r a t i q u e q u i s ' e l e v e r a i t au-dessue de l a m o d e r n i t S , au-dessus de l ' a c t u a l i t e . Comme procedes e t comme i n s p i r a t i o n , i l f a u t r e v e n i r aux P r i m i t i f s : e t r e t r e s b r e f au p o i n t de vue t e c h n i q u e , ne se s e r v i r de l a l i g n e que pour d e t e r m i n e r l a forme e t de l a c o u l e u r que pour d e t e r m i n e r l e s e t a t s . I I f a u d r a i t , en un mot, c r S e r un s t y l e q u i s e r a i t c e l u i de n o t r e Spoque. (Cf. Jacques D a u r e l l e , "Chez l e s Jeunes P e i n t r e s , " L'Echo de P a r i s , 28 Dec. 1891, n. pag. ) 23 See M. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , pp.22-23 ( w r i t t e n i n 1895) and p.260 ( w r i t t e n i n 1909). The " s e n s a t i o n " i s n o t u n d e r s t o o d here as a p u r e l y s e n s o r y , v i s u a l one (as t r a d i t i o n a l l y i s b e l i e v e d t o be the case f o r the I m p r e s s i o n i s m o f t h e 1870s), b u t as a f e e l i n g , an emotion. T h i s meaning o f the " s e n s a t i o n " i s t h e common one i n S y m b o l i s t c i r c l e s , and i s a l s o e q u i v a l e n t w i t h t h a t g i v e n t o the word " i m p r e s s i o n " by such e a r l i e r n o n - p o s i t i v i s t t h i n k e r s as B a u d e l a i r e and D e l a c r o i x , who a c t u a l l y d i d g r e a t l y i n f l u e n c e t h e l i t e r a r y and a r t i s t i c S y m b o l i s t s . The words " s e n s a t i o n " and " i m p r e s s i o n " a r e i n t e r c h a n g e a b l e , e x c e p t when t a l k i n g about I m p r e s s i o n i s m , b o t h i t s p o s i t i v i s t d e f e n d e r s , as w e l l as i t s n o n - p o s i t i v i s t c r i t i c s who d e n i g r a t e d i t , equated t h o s e words w i t h a v i s u a l , p e r c e i v e d s e n s a t i o n . I n S y m b o l i s t c i r c l e s , " s e n s a t i o n " i s e q u i v a l e n t w i t h " i m p r e s s i o n " (a word l e s s used) and i s e q u i v a l e n t w i t h "emotion." Perhaps i t i s w o r t h m e n t i o n i n g t h a t i n 1881, P a u l Bourget p u b l i s h e d h i s E s s a i s s u r l a p s y c h o l o g i e f r a n c a i s e , i n w h i c h he argued f o r a l i t e r a t u r e based upon I m a g i n a t i o n and - 205 - F e e l i n g , a g a i n s t t h e n a t u r a l i s m and p o s i t i v i s m o f a Z o l a . I t i s l i k e l y t h a t Gauguin, who e x p r e s s e d h i s s t r o n g b e l i e f i n " f e e l i n g " i n 1885 (see h i s l e t t e r t o S c h u f f e n e c k e r o f 14 J a n u - a r y 1885, where he a l s o made i t c l e a r he u n d e r s t o o d " s e n s a t i o n " as " e m o t i o n " ) , had knowledge o f B o u r g e t ' s E s s a i s . A t any r a t e , i n the e a r l y 1880s, the i d e a s p r o p a g a t e d i n t h e c i r c l e o f B o u r g e t , Gustave Kahn, and t h e i r f r i e n d J u l e s L a f o r g u e (who d i e d i n 1887 and was i n f l u e n c e d i n h i s s t u d i e s i n a e s t h e t i c s , by Hartman's P h i l o s o p h y o f t h e Unconscious) as w e l l as C h a r l e s Henry's l e c t u r e s on e x p e r i m e n t a l p s y c h o l o g y , c o n t r i b u t e d t o a concept o f " s e n s a t i o n " w h i c h was c l e a r l y d i s t i n c t from a p u r e l y s e n s o r y one. I n t u i t i o n , f e e l i n g , emotion, were i t s i n g r e d i e n t s . One problem which i t seems t o me i s s t i l l not f u l l y answered, i s t o what e x t e n t t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s themselves thought o f " s e n s a t i o n " as "emotion," and i f t h e y d i d , d i d t h e y u n d e r s t a n d i t as such o n l y b e g i n n i n g w i t h t h e 18 80s? That i n a l e t t e r a d d r e s s e d t o h i s f a t h e r C a m i l l e / i n May 1891, L u c i e n P i s s a r r o equated e m o t i v i t y w i t h s e n s a t i o n , does not s o l v e t h e problem. L u c i e n wrote a f t e r r e a d i n g A u r i e r ' s a r t i c l e on Gauguin, "Le Symbolisme en p e i n t u r e " (see P i s s a r r o , L e t t e r s , 1972, p. 378) . And what a f a k e r Gauguin i s ! Come now, s e r i o u s l y , do you t h i n k he has a l l t h a t many i d e a s ? We've t a l k e d w i t h him and know t h e r e ' s not a chance t h a t we'd be t a k e n i n ! I n A u r i e r ' s a r t i c l e t h e r e ' s a p o i n t you d i d n ' t n o t i c e and t h a t shows how empty i t i s : a t one p o i n t , , a f t e r a l o n g p r o c e s s i o n o f words (words, n o t h i n g but w o r d s ! ) , he admits t h a t e v e r y t h i n g he has j u s t means n o t h i n g i f t h e a r t i s t i s n ' t endowed w i t h t h e g i f t o f e m o t i v i t y . But t h a t ' s what we c a l l s e n s a t i o n . So what d i d he p r o v e ? When L u c i e n t e l l s C a m i l l e t h a t " t h e r e ' s a p o i n t you d i d n ' t n o t i c e , " he r e f e r s t o the copy o f A u r i e r ' s a r t i c l e a n n o t a t e d by h i s f a t h e r ' s hand. (See B e l i n d a Thomson, " C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o and Symbolism: some t h o u g h t s promoted by the r e c e n t d i s c o v e r y o f an a n n o t a t e d a r t i c l e , " B u r l i n g t o n e Magazine, J a n u a r y 1892, p.19. I do not agree however w i t h her c o n c l u s i o n , w h i c h b r i n g s C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o ' s aims much t o o c l o s e t o t h o s e o f A u r i e r ' s . ) The f a c t i s t h i s p o i n t about " e m o t i v i t y " was m i s s e d by P i s s a r r o (who o t h e r w i s e made s e v e r a l comments). Why? There were b a s i c d i f f e r e n c e s between C a m i l l e and L u c i e n (an adept o f W i l l i a m M o r r i s , c o l l a b o r a t o r o f R i c k e t t s and Shannon). C a m i l l e always i n s i s t e d i n h i s l e t t e r s on p r e s e r v i n g the " f r e s h n e s s " and " s p o n t a n e i t y " o f " s e n s a t i o n " (see l e t t e r s o f Sept. 1888, May 13, 1891 f o r example) which he f e l t o u t d o o r s . T h i s was a c t u a l l y t h e r e a s o n he gave up t h e " d o t s " o f h i s s h o r t - l i v e d N e o - I m p r e s s i o n i s t phase (see l e t t e r o f May 29, 1891). L u c i e n / was not concerned w i t h p r e s e r v i n g " s p o n t a n e i t y , " he was i n v o l v e d i n d e l i b e r a t e , d e c o r a t i v e c o m p o s i t i o n s , as i s e v i d e n t from t h e same l e t t e r o f May 1891: I am o b l i g e d t o do t h i n g s t h i s way because i t i s v e r y d i f f i c u l t t o p a i n t from n a t u r e when you l i v e i n the c i t y . There a r e d i s t a n c e s and changes o f e f f e c t s i n a c o u n t r y where t h e r e a r e n ' t two days i n a row t h a t a r e a l i k e . B e s i d e s , s i n c e my - 206 - i d e a i s to p a i n t emphasizing the d e c o r a t i v e aspect, I have no other c h o i c e , A u r i e r c o n s i d e r e d t h a t Gauguin was endowed with a " t r a n s - cendental e m o t i v i t y , " which meant not only t h a t the p a i n t i n g o b j e c t i f i e d a " s e n s a t i o n " (emotion! i n s t e a d of r e n d e r i n g a v i s u a l impression, but t h a t emotion i t s e l f was f e l t not i n con- templation of the r e a l world, but of the world of a b s t r a c t i o n s , of "pure Ideas." But f o r Ganguin, as f o r other Symbolists- S y n t h e t i s t s , the r e a l world remained a source of t h e i r sensa- t i o n s . Denis' " s e n s a t i o n " i s d e f i n i t e l y l e s s i d e a l i s t i n nature than A u r i e r ' s " t r a n s c e n d e n t a l e m o t i v i t y " i n f r o n t of the "drama of the a b s t r a c t i o n s . " C See A. A u r i e r , "Le Symbolisme en p e i n t u r e , " Mercure de France, March 1891, p.164.) See a l s o n.34 below. 24 Alphonse Germain, "Theorie des deformateurs. Expose e t r e f u t a t i o n , " La Plume, No.57, S e p t . l 1891, p.290. Germain was a r e a c t i o n a r y c r i t i c , supporter of the L a t i n t r a d i t i o n , and of Peladan and h i s Rose-Croix Salon. He wrote i n L ' A r t e t I'Idee. 2 5 See a l s o Ch.I, P a r t 1, p.., 29. 2 6 I am r e f e r r i n g here e s p e c i a l l y to the second phase of C l o i s o n i s m , the " C l o i s o n i s t - S y n t h e t i s t " phase i n Welsh- Ovcharov' s terminology ( see Bogomila Welsh-Ovcharov, V i n c e n t van Gogh and the B i r t h of C l o i s o n i s m , A r t G a l l , of O n t a r i o , 1981, p.41), as i l l u s t r a t e d f o r example i n Bernard's Breton Women i n the Meadow: Pardon a t Pont-Aven, 1888 ( Cat.No.104). The f i r s t phase of C l o i s o n i s m was i n i t i a t e d " by Emile Bernard and L o u i s Anquetin i n 1887. The name " C l o i s o n i s m " was c o i n e d by the Symbolist w r i t e r and c r i t i c Edouard Dujardin, not by the a r t i s t s themselves. He was a f r i e n d of Anquetin and a t t r i b u t e d the s t y l e , to him ( f r i e n d s h i p s and l o y a l t i e s were important i n 19th c. a r t c r i t i c i s m ) a f t e r the p a i n t e r e x h i b i t e d i n 1888 w i t h Les XX and w i t h the Independents, among o t h e r t h i n g s , Rue ( S o i r - 5 heures), or as i s b e t t e r known today, Avenue de C l i c h y : F i v e O'clock i n the Evening, p a i n t e d l a t e 1887, and which Anquetin l i s t e d as an "ebauche" ( see Catalogue de l a ye E x p o s i t i o n des XX, B r u x e l l e s , 1888, No.4 on Anquetin's l i s t ) . D u j a r d i n not o n l y compared Anquetin's s t y l e with c l o i s o n n e enamels ( which c o u l d have been French medieval, or O r i e n t a l c l o i s o n n e admired a t the time- see f o r example Ch. Blanc, Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , 1882, p.326), but a l s o to Japanese p r i n t s and f o l k a r t ("images of E p i n a l " ) - see the quote from D u j a r d i n ' s "Le C l o i s o n i s m e , " La Revue Independante, March 1888, i n Sven Loevgren, The Genesis of Modernism, 19 71, p. 13 2,' or the t r a n s l a t i o n ( b e t t e r than the one p r o v i d e d i n Loevgren) i n Welsh-Ovcharov, V i n c e n t van Gogh. ... , p. 23. Anquetin's Avenue de C l i c h y , a s opposed to C l o i s o n i s t - S y n t h e t i s t p a i n t i n g s , such as Bernard's Breton Women of 1888, p r e s e r v e s the "Western," post-Renaissance treatment of space. The f l a t n e s s of the p i c t u r e i s due mainly to the u n i t y of c o l o r (which was as i s w e l l known, Anquetin's main concern) and t h i c k o u t l i n i n g o f the shapes. Anquetin's p r i o r i t y i n developping the f i r s t phase of C l o i s o n i s m i s d o u b t f u l . T h i s c o n c l u s i o n i s not based o n l y on what Bernard wrote l a t e r C he i s not very r e l i a b l e ) , or even on the f a c t t h a t Van Gogh, a f t e r h e a r i n g about D u j a r d i n ' s -207 - a r t i c l e d e c l a r e d t h a t " i n the Japanese s t y l e young Bernard has perhaps gone f a t h e r than Anquetin. " (. Quoted i n J . Revald, Post-Impressionism,197 8, p,177; Rewald t h i n k s t h a t "the i n i t i a t i v e seems to have been B e r n a r d ' s i - o p . c i t . , p.175.) The f a c t i s t h a t the e a r l i e s t known " C l o i s o n i s t " p a i n t i n g by Anquetin i s The Mower a t Noon ( Welsh -'Ovcharov, cat.No.74), of summer 1887, w h i l e i n the s p r i n g of the same year Bernard already p a i n t e d Woman Tending Geese ('cat .No. 92) or Afternoon a t S t . B r i a c ( cat.No.93), which are a l s o more advanced i n the d i r e c - t i o n of C l o i s o n i s m than Anquetin's Mower. During the w i n t e r 1886-87, Anquetin and Bernard worked i n c l o s e c o l l a r b o r a t i o n . They were t r y i n g to p r o v i d e an a l t e r n a t i v e to Seurat and Signac's Neo-Impressionist p a i n t i n g , remaining w i t h i n the "mathematical a e s t h e t i c s " and s c i e n t i f i c t h e o r i e s . These t h e o r i e s were h a i l e d by the Symbolist avant-garde c r i t i c s such as G. Kahn, as "founded on t h i s p u r e l y i d e a l i s t p h i l o s o p h i c a l p r i n c i p l e t h a t makes us r e j e c t the r e a l i t y of matter and admits the e x i s t a n c e of the world o n l y as a r e p r e s e n t a t i o n . " ( My t r a n s l . from G. Kahn, "Reponse des Symbolistes," L'Evenement, 28 Spet. 1886, reproduced i n S. Loevgren, The Genesis of Modernism, 1971, p.84.) Anquetin was i n t e r e s t e d i n a dominant c o l o r of l i g h t ( warm yellow-orange i n The Mower, c o l d b l u e - v i o l e t i n Avenue de Clichy) j u s t i f i e d by a p a r t i c u l a r time of the day. I t i s more l i k e l y he found h i s i n s p i r a t i o n , not l o o k i n g through a c o l o r e d p i e c e of g l a s s as Bernard much l a t e r r e l a t e d ( E. Bernard, "Louis Anquetin," Gaz. Beaux-Arts, Vol.11, 1934, p.114), but i n Blanc's Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n ( see t h i s t h e s i s , Ch.II, P a r t 2, n.38) which a t the time was very popular w i t h the avant-garde c i r c l e s . (Bernard l a t e r d e n i g r a t e d Blanc's w r i t i n g s - see Ch.II, P a r t 2, n.1'19; Anquetin's thorough knowledge of the Grammaire i s e v i d e n t i n h i s p e r s o n a l notes - see Anquetin, De L ' A r t , e d i t e d by C. V e r s i n i , . P a r i s , 1970; the Neo-Impressionist c i r c l e d i d not keep s e c r e t t h e i r use of the Grammaire. Seurat l i s t e d i t as one of h i s sources - the i n f l u e n c e of Blanc's Grammaire on Seurat i s d i s c u s s e d i n d e t a i l i n W.I. Homer, Seurat and the Science of P a i n t i n g , 1964 - and so d i d Signac i n h i s D'Eugene D e l a c r o i x aux neo-impressionnisme, f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n 1898. On Gauguin's and van Gogh's acquaintance w i t h the Grammaire ( see Mark R o s k i l l , Van Gogh, Gauguin and the Impre- s s i o n i s t C i r c l e , 1970, pp.91, 94 and 267.) Anquetin's Mower has the a s p e c t of an I m p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g seen through a y e l l o w g l a s s . In f a c t P i s s a r r o a l r e a d y i n 1880 i n Chaponaval Landscape ( P i s s a r r o & V e n t u r i , cat.No.509) or i n the Apple P i c k e r s ( P&V No.545) of 1881 showed s i m i l a r p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h the dominant c o l o r e d l i g h t , i n h i s case b l u e . The a r t i s t s i n t e r e s t e d i n a more s c i e n t i f i c approach to p a i n t i n g ( a g e n e r a l tendency among avant-garde a r t i s t s i n the e a r l y 1880s) might have used the source used by Blanc h i m s e l f , t h a t i s Chevreul's The Laws of C o n t r a s t of Colour. Chevreul formulated s e v e r a l p r i n c i p l e s of c o l o u r harmony, and grouped them i n two k i n d s , harmonies of analogous c o l o u r s , and harmonies of c o n t r a s t s . Among the harmonies of analogous c o l o u r s he l i s t e d the "harmony of a dominant c o l o r e d l i g h t . " Chevreul s t r e s s e d t h a t a p a i n t e r may exaggerate the c o l o u r s of nature, s i n c e i f he c o p i e s them e x a c t l y , the r e s u l t s might not be harmonious. P i s s a r r o acknow- ledged h i s acquaintance w i t h Chevreul's book only i n 1886, when - 208 - he j o i n e d Neo-Impressionism. ( See L. N o c h l i n , Impressionism and Post-Impressionism, 1966, p.55.) Bernard's " s c i e n t i f i c " i n t e r e s t focused on a b s t r a c t , g e o m e t r i c a l design, on what he c a l l e d "synthese geometrique," as i s e v i d e n t i n h i s Afternoon a t St. B r i a c ( Welsh-Ovcharov, cat.No.93), The Ragpickers: Iron Bridges a t A s n i e r e s (No.96), and View from the Pont d'Asnieres ( Welsh-Ovcharov, f i g . 1 1 5 , p.276), a l l of 1887, s t a r t i n g i n s p r i n g . He might have i n f l u e n c e d Anquetin i n o u t l i n i n g shapes w i t h g e o m e t r i c a l p r e c i s i o n , e s p e c i a l l y the houses i n the Mower, but the l a t t e r used very f i n e l i n e s , probably not being ready to make a t o t a l break with Impressionism ( which d i d not accept o u t l i n e s , because " l i n e s do not e x i s t i n n a t u r e " ) . The f i n e l i n e s , as w e l l as the f a c t t h a t there are no compartments of v a r i o u s c o l o u r s , h a r d l y q u a l i f y t h i s p a i n t i n g as an example of " C l o i s o n i s m . " Bernard was the one t h a t i n the s p r i n g of 1887 covered h i s windows w i t h i m i t a t i o n of Gothic s t a i n e d g l a s s ( Welsh-Ovcharov, p.263) i n St. B r i a c . As I a l r e a d y mentioned, about t h a t time he p a i n t e d h i s f i r s t C l o i s o n i s t p a i n t i n g s . Bernard f e l t he s u f f e r e d i n j u s t i c e twice, s i n c e Dujardin named Anquetin alone as i n v e n t o r of C l o i s o n i s m , and l a t e r he was accused of p l a g i a r i z i n g Gauguin's C l o l s o n i s t - S y n t h e t i s t s t y l e . Yet, he maintained a l l along, he produced Breton Women a t Pardon ( Welsh-Ovch. c a t . No.104) b e f o r e Gauguin's V i s i o n a f t e r Sermon (both of 1888). Most a r t h i s t o r i a n s agree today on Bernard's p r i o r i t y and on the f a c t he i n f l u e n c e d Gauguin. ( The most con- v i n c i n g argument i s p r o v i d e d - i n my o p i n i o n - i n V. J i r a t - W a s i u t i n s k i , Paul Gauguin i n the context of Symbolism, 1978, pp.83-96; see a l s o M.A. Stevens, Post-impressionism: Cross Currents i n European P a i n t i n g , Royal Acad, of A r t s Catalogue, London, 1979, p.41, and F. Orton and G. P o l l o c k , "Les Donnees Bretonnantes: La P r a i r i e de R e p r e s e n t a t i o n , " A r t H i s t o r y , Vol.3, No.3, 1980, p.337; Welsh-Ovcharov i s non-commital on the i s s u e of p r i o r i t y . ) The important c o n c l u s i o n i s t h a t Bernard i n t r o - duced i n p a i n t i n g the f l a t n e s s of the medieval t a p e s t r i e s or s t a i n e d g l a s s windows which he a l r e a d y i m i t a t e d i n h i s decora- t i o n s . With r e s p e c t to s p a c i a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s , h i s Breton Women was more "medieval" than Gauguin's V i s i o n , or than h i s own p a i n - t i n g s from the f i r s t C l o i s o n i s t phase. Bernard d e l i b e r a t e l y turned now to the a r t of the Middle Ages f o r i n s p i r a t i o n , w h i l e h i s f i r s t C l o i s o n i s t phase, as w e l l as Gauguin's V i s i o n are h e a v i l y indebted to the p e r s p e c t i v e used i n the Japanese p r i n t s . ( A c t u a l l y i n Hokusai's p r i n t s f o r example- the most popular ones with the French avant-garde- the p e r s p e c t i v e i s not the one Chinese and Japanese a r t adopted f o r g e n e r a t i o n s , but i t i s i n f - luenced by Western p e r s p e c t i v e . On t h i s Western i n f l u e n c e see f o r example Ch. S. T e r r y , Hokusai's 36 Views of Mt. F u j i , Tokyo, 1959, p.13.) 2 7 See t h i s i n t e r v i e w w i t h Bernard p u b l i s h e d by Jacques D a u r e l l e , "Chez l e s Jeunes P e i n t r e s , " L'Echo de P a r i s , 28 Dec. 1891. : ~ As Rookmaaker p o i n t e d out, Van Gogh's l e t t e r s to Bernard w r i t t e n i n the summer of 18 88 i n d i c a t e d Bernard's involvement w i t h "the a b s t r a c t and m y s t i c a l " medieval drawing and i t s "sym- b o l i c a l s i g n i f i c a n c e . " ( See H.R. Rookmaaker, S y n t h e t i s t A r t T h e o r i e s , 1959, p.125.) Bernard claimed t h a t B r i t t a n y made a C a t h o l i c out of him again, "capable of f i g h t i n g f o r the Church," as w e l l as transformed him i n t o a "man of the Middle Ages"; he admired there ( f i r s t time i n 1886) "the a n c i e n t s t a i n e d g l a s s windows, the h i e r a t i c t a p e s t r i e s . " ( See the quote from - 209 - B e r n a r d ' s " R e c i t s d'un p a s s a g e r voyageant au b o r d de l a v i e " i n Mary- Anne 'Stevens, " I n n o v a t i o n and C o n s o l i d a t i o n I n French. P a i n t i n g . , "' 'T'o's'tva^pYfe's:'s;iOTiii,"s-m, London, 1279, p. 23,1 2 g See Merete Bodelsen,' Gauguin's C e r a m i c s , 1964, p.184 and p. 220 Ch. 130.1'. Gauguin d e v e l o p e d a C l o i s o n n i s t i c s t y l e i n C h a p e l e t ' s workshop i n 1 8 8 6 - 1 8 8 7 , . i n s p i r e d by Japanese c l o i s o n n e vase. See a l s o Gauguin's d e s c r i p t i o n o f the p r o c e s s o f making Japanese c l o i s o n n g vases C f r o m Avant e t A p r e s ) , i n P a u l Gauguin's I n t i m a t e J o u r n a l s , t r a h s l . Van Wyck B r o o k s , 1949, pp. 63-67. . •, .. 29 See f o r example S t i l l L i f e w i t h P r o f i l e o f L a v a l (1886). For the "Western t r a d i t i o n " see Ch.I, P a r t 1, pp36-39 , and p.16. " C l o i s o n i s m " i s o n l y one form o f " S y n t h e t i s m , " w h i c h i s a more encompassing term. Gauguin was a S y n t h e t i s t b e f o r e and a f t e r b e i n g a " C l o i s o n i s t " ( C l o i s o n i s t - S y n t h e t i s t ) . I t i s p o s s i b l e t h a t Gauguin f i r s t used the term " s y n t h e t i q u e " i n s p i r e d by B a u d e l a i r e , s i n c e h i s "Notes S y n t h e t i q u e s " o f 1884-85 a r e i n tune w i t h the p o e t ' s t h e o r y o f " c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s . " Gauguin con- s i d e r e d f o r example t h a t "harmonious c o l o r s c o r r e s p o n d t o the harmonies o f sounds" and t h a t i n p a i n t i n g " a l l s e n s a t i o n s a r e condensed." He e n v i s a g e d p a i n t i n g as a s y n t h e s i s o f a l l o t h e r a r t s . ( T h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the t i t l e "Notes S y n t h e t i q u e s " i s a l s o g i v e n by J i r a t - W a s i u t i n s k i , p.17 and p.19.) W h i l e Gauguin d i d n o t use the term " s y n t h e t i c " i n the t e x t , i t i s e v i d e n t he was t h i n k i n g a l s o i n terms o f " s c i e n t i f i c s y n t h e t i s m " ( u s i n g G o l d w a t e r ' s t e r m i n o l o g y ) - t h i s time r e f e r r i n g t o a s p e c i f i c method o f p a i n t i n g - as was S e u r a t . S i n c e Gauguin d i d n o t use t h e term " s y n t h e t i c " i n the t e x t , i t i s not c l e a r i f he used i t i n the t i t l e i n r e f e r e n c e t o the s y n t h e s i s o f a l l s e n s a t i o n s - f o r w h i c h the e q u i v a l e n t one word "synae s the s i a" e x i s t s - o r he r e f e r r e d t o the t h e o r y o f " e q u i v a l e n t s , " t h a t i s r e c r e a t i n g by s y n t h e t i c ( i n the sense o f a r t i f i c i a l l y c r e a t e d ) means i n p a i n t i n g t h a t w h i c h cannot be e x a c t l y i m i t a t e d anyway ( s i n c e as Gauguin s a i d , "you have fewer means than n a t u r e " ) . The " S y n t h e t i s m " p r o c l a i m e d a t the V o l p i n i e x h i b i t i o n o f 1889 ( the term was n o t e x p l a i n e d a t the time) has t o be u n d e r s t o o d i n the l a t t e r sense. I t means r e c r e a t i n g images o u t o f "syn- t h e t i c c o l o r " and " s y n t h e t i c l i n e s , " i n s t e a d o f i m i t a t i n g n a t u r e . A t the same t i m e , even i f the c o l o r c o u l d be t o t a l l y a r b i t r a r y and a r t i f i c i a l ( as Ch. B l a n c recommended i n d e c o r a - t i o n - see Ch.I, P a r t 1 ) , t h e l i n e a r S t y l e s y n t h e s i z e d forms e x i s t a n t i n the r e a l w o r l d . A l l S y m b o l i s t s w r i t e r s used the term " s y n t h e t i c " to i n d i c a t e a method, a s t y l e , t h a t a c h i e v e d a " s y n t h e s i s . " ( I n my o p i n i o n one s h o u l d make a s l i g h t d i s - t i n c t i o n between " s y n t h e t i s m " and " s y n t h e s i s , " s i n c e the l a t t e r does not n e c e s s a r i l y i m p l y a r t i f i c i a l i t y , b u t o n l y s i m p l i f i - c a t i o n , g e n e r a l i z a t i o n . A " s y n t h e s i s " i n p a i n t i n g p r e s e r v e s t h e c h a r a c t e r o f t h e o b j e c t i t r e p r e s e n t s . ) B a u d e l a i r e used the term " s y n t h e t i c " Cto q u a l i f y the a r t o f C. Guys), i n the sense o f a c h i e v i n g a s y n t h e s i s , t h a t i s g e n e r a l i z i n g and s e e i n g t h i n g s i n the " e f f e c t o f t h e i r ensemble" ( see Ch. B a u d e l a i r e , "Oeuvres c o m p l e t e s , 1954, p.1166, and M. R o s k i 1 1 , Van Gogh, - 210 - Gauguin and the Impressionist C i r c l e , 1970, pp.95-96). Aurier understood by synthesis, "the aesthetical and l o g i c a l simpli- f i c a t i o n s of formes," as i s done i n decorations such as monu- mental frescoes (see the quote i n n.46, from "Les Symbolistes"). Like Baudelaire, Aurier admired such "synthetic" art as that of ancient Egyptians, or primitive a r t . In his book on Gauguin, Charles Morice (who also equated Synthetism with "synthesis") exclaimed: "should we reduce Synthetism to the use of f l a t t i n t only?" ("nous re- duirons-nous a dire que l e synthgtisme se ramene tout entire a l a teinte plate?". Gauguin, 1919, p.165.) Morice pointed out that Gauguin was an " i d e i s t , " but he remained " p l a s t i c . " 31 As Bodelsen pointed out, Gauguin found i n the technique of stoneware glazes an answer to a problem that had interested him for sometime, the problem of color harmony. (See Merete Bodelsen, Gauguin's Ceramics, 1964, pp.190-191.) Chinese ceramics (which inspired Chapelet) were very much admired at the time, as Roger Marx t e s t i f i e d : L'influence grandissante de 1'extreme Orient a provoqui l a recherche des couvertes chinoises, qui prennent, sous 1'action d'un feu v i o l e n t , des colorations riches, marbrees ou heurtees a i n s i que des ondulations des flammes. Chapelet, whom Braquemond c a l l e d "an a r t i s t equal to the Chinese," t r i e d to imitate Chinese ceramics, quite successfully as i s evident also from R. Marx's description: . . . v o i c i pour procurer aux amateurs de flamSs leurs plus troublarites emotions et d'exquises surprises, l a v i t r i n e ou M. Chapelet triomphe sans contests. L ' o e i l . e s t fascine par ces meta- morphoses de l a porcelaine en matiere precieuse, par l a dissemblance des e f f e t s , dus a des com- binaisons de cuisson, a des courants d'oxigene .'• faisant passer le rouge de cuivre par le v i o - l e t , par l e bleu, le vert, l e l i l a s , en de nuances chatoyantes, voltigeantes' . (See R. Marx, "La decoration architecturale et les industries d'art a 1'Exposition Universelle de 1889," Revue des Arts Decoratifs, Vol.11,1890-1891, pp.35-36.) Gauguin himself described the synthetic color he used i n 1888 i n painting in'a s i m i l a r manner: The color i s a color remote from nature; imagine a confused c o l l e c t i o n of pottery a l l twisted by furnaces! A l l the reds and v i o l e t s streaked by flames, l i k e a furnace burning f i e r c e l y , the seat of the painter's mental struggles. (Gauguin, Letters to his Wife and Friends, 1948, p.105, l e t t e r of 8 Oct. 1888 to Schuffenecker.) Charles Blanc also praised Oriental (especially Chinese) ceramists. He p a r t i c u l a r l y admired and recommended t h e i r method of making the color "vibrate," i n order to avoid the monotony of an uniformly applied monochrome tone. (See Ch. Blanc, Grammaire des arts decoratifs, p.390; i n his Grammaire des arts du dessin, 1967, p.607, he referred to t h i s procedure - 211 - as to "modulate the tone on i t s e l f , " and i n h i s a r t i c l e on D e l a c r o i x in" Gaz.> :Beaiix>SAr1:s, 1864, p. 144, as u s i n g the p r i n - c i p l e of " c o l o r modulation"^ my emphasis.). C o l o r modulations i n s p i r e d . b y the stoneware g l a s s e s are to be found i n such " C l o i s o n i s t " p a i n t i n g s as' The" Breton C a l v a r y : The Green C h r i s t of 1889. 3 2 For Gauguin's "zebree p a i n t i n g " see Ch. Chassee, Gauguin e t son temp, 1955, pp.43-44. A c c o r d i n g to Signac, the express- i o n "zebrer" was used by Charles Blanc i n d e s c r i b i n g D e l a c r o i x ' s method of "optimal mixing" of c o l o r (. green and pink) used i n r e n d e r i n g women's f l e s h C see P. Signac, D'E. D e l a c r o i x . . . , p.76). The e x p r e s s i o n Blanc used was a c t u a l l y "sabrer" C Gramma i r e . . . d e ss i n, 1867, -p.604.) An example of p a i n t i n g i n which Gauguin, as D e l a c r o i x , used t h i s method of h a t c h i n g to render the nuances, as w e l l as to model a woman's body, i s Undine: In the Waves of 1889 ( c o l o r p l a t e No.l i n Welsh- Ovcharov, V i n c e n t van Gogh..., 1981). 3 3 On Gauguin's p o s i t i o n r e g a r d i n g m o d e l l i n g i n the deco- r a t i v e a r t s , see h i s l e t t e r to D a n i e l de Monfried of August 1892 ( H.B. Chipp, T h e o r i e s . . . , p.64). I t i s e v i d e n t t h a t Gauguin was s t i l l making the d i s t i n c t i o n between the f l a t n e s s r e q u i r e d i n d e c o r a t i v e a r t s ( b e s t to be s t a i n e d g l a s s window-like) and i n e a s e l p a i n t i n g . Perhaps o n l y i n Women a t A r i e s : The M i s t r a l of 1888 (Welsh-Ovcharov, c o l o r p l a t e No.24)- and even here, o n l y i n the two s m a l l e r f i g u r e s - d i d Gauguin approach Bernard's f a c e l e s s f l a t s i l h o u e t t e s of Three Brenton Women a t the Coast, May-June 1888 ( Welsh-Ovcharov, No.99) or of The Seawed Gatherers: Les Goemons ( 1888 or l a t e r , Welsh-Ovcharov, No.108), as w e l l as of Denis' Way to C a l v a r y of 1889 ( Welsh-Ovcharov, No.140). Even i n a s t i l l l i f e , c o n s i d e r e d as one of the e a r l i e s t " C l o i s o n i s t " p a i n t i n g s by Gauguin: S t i l l L i f e F§te Gloanec of e a r l y Aug.1888 ( Welsh-Ovcharov, c o l o r p l a t e No.31) he e x t e n s i v e l y used Cezanne's method of c o l o u r modulations i n s t e a d of the f l a t t i n t . 34 I r e f e r i n p a r t i c u l a r to Bernard, Denis, and S e r u s i e r , who were the f i r s t to break completely with Western type of p e r s p e c t i v e ( l i n e a r or c e n t r a l p o i n t , s c i e n t i f i c p e r s p e c t i v e ) , and t r e a t e d the s u r f a c e of the p a i n t i n g as a t r u l y two- dimensional one. In t h i s r e s p e c t medieval a r t (or f o r t h a t matter t r a d i t i o n a l O r i e n t a l a r t ) o f f e r e d even b e t t e r i n s p i r a t i o n than the Japanese p r i n t s , as I a l r e a d y i n d i c a t e d . Bernard f i g u r e s seem to " f l o a t " i n p a i n t i n g s such as the w e l l known Breton Women a t Pardon (18 88), or The Apple Harvest ( 1890, Welsh-Ovcharov, No.110). Leaving a s i d e the q u e s t i o n of Bernard having any j u s t i f i c a t i o n to say t h i s , i t i s s i g n i f i c a n t t h a t he claimed: " . . . i t was t h i s g o t h i c B r i t t a n y which i n i t i a t e d me i n a r t and God" ( quoted i n Post-Impressionism, London, 1979, p.41). In other words, he i n t e n t i o n a l l y i m i t a t e d Gothic a r t , because ('. even i n l a i c scenes) t h i s formalism allowed him to p r o j e c t the mysticism and the i d e a l i s m he had chosen to p r o j e c t a t t h a t p a r t i c u l a r time. Both Bernard and S e r u s i e r (. the founder of the Nabi group), embraced n e o ^ P l a t o n i s t d o c t r i n e s a t the time, these d o c t r i n e s being a t the f o u n d a t i o n of l i t e r a r y Symbolism, - 212 - the avant-garde which, the painters wanted to p a r a l l e l . As Denis wrote i n the t e x t accompanying Serusier's book, Le Symbolisme e t a i t comme Serusier lui-meme, neo^platonicien.. Ecrivains et peintres tom- baient d'accord pour affirmer que les objets naturels sont les signes des idees; que le v i s i b l e est l a manifestation de 1 1 i n v i s i b l e ; (. In P. Serusier, A B C de l a peinture, 1942, f i r s t publ. 1921, p.64.) Denis claimed that Serusier revealed to the Nabis, "as Gauguin's message," the concept of the painting as a "plane surface covered with colours i n a c e r t a i n assembled order" ( which was the well-known d e f i n i t i o n of a painting Denis gave i n his a r t i c l e " D e f i n i t i o n of Neotraditionism," f i r s t published i n Art et Critique, Aug. 1890 ) - see A SC..., p.43 and p.105. In f a c t the small panel Serusier painted supposedly under Gauguin's guidance ( which guidance referred only to the use of a dominant color, but synthetic, of an object), known as The Talisman or The Bo i s d'Amour, of October 1888, was f l a t t e r than any of Gauguin's paintings, and quite "abstract." For the sources that more l i k e l y inspired Denis' d e f i n i t i o n of a painting see n.103, below. In l a t e r years, when Denis turned against "flatness," he blamed Gauguin ( a n d to a lesser extent Bernard's early work) for this trend i n painting. Denis him- s e l f did not appear to be a neo-Platonist, only an ardent Catholic with mystic tendencies. Together with Serusier, they were the leaders of the Nabi group, which i n the early 1890s were considered the Symbolists ( i n painting). However, the intent of becoming a "Symbolist" ( regardless of Denis' claiming for his a r t i c l e on "Neo-traditionism," the status of a "Sym- b o l i s t Manifesto" i n l a t e r years) manifested l a t e r for Serusier and Denis than for Bernard. There i s a delayed concern with "Style" ( related to the "Idea") i n the Nabis' work, but there i s an evident concern with "dematerialization" ( e s p e c i a l l y i n such works by Denis as Sunlight on the Terrace of 1890- Welsh- Ovcharov No.142- which was indebted to Serusier's Talisman), and anti-Naturalism (of the Salon variety, that i s photographic, n a t u r a l i s t i c representation, as taught at the Academie Julian; t h i s i s why Denis was not so outspoken against the Impressionists as Bernard and Gauguin were). Denis' a r t i c l e of 1890 was more a manifesto i n favor of formalism and a r t for art's sake, for "decorative" a r t i n an i d e a l i s t frame-work. He wanted works that emanate s p i r i t u a l i t y , not through the subject-matter, not through " l i t e r a t u r e , " but on the account of t h e i r formalism. During the late 1880s he thought he found answers i n the hieratism of the Hindu, Assyrian, Egyptian, Byznaritine, and Medieval art e s p e c i a l l y . He admired the I t a l i a n "Primitives" and Puvis de Chavannes ( e s p e c i a l l y for his "decorative" q u a l i t i e s - see Denis' Journal, Vol.1, p.67) and i n 1889 was favorably impressed by Gauguin's works at the V o l p i n i exhibition. He was concerned with the reform of the r e l i g i o u s art, which should avoid imitation of nature, "vulgar sensations," trompe- 1'oeil. Denis' symbolism manifested i t s e l f i n the use of an "icon" (. sacred image!.', as i s evident i n his "Neo-traditionism": "What i s great a r t C 'what we c a l l decorative', as Denis explained i n the previous sentence) i f not the disguise of - 213 - n a t u r a l objects with, t h e i r vulgar sensations- by icons t h a t are sacred, magical and commanding.?"' C'Trl, i n Chipp, p, 100.1» He was a c t u a l l y known i n h i s a r t i s t i c c i r c l e s as "the Nabi of the b e a u t i f u l i c o n s . " His m y s t i c a l Symbolism i s evident i n h i s J o u r n a l (. entry f o r January 1889, Vol.1, p.73, t r l . i n Post- Impressionism, London, pp.65-66): Lord, we are a group of young people, devotees of the symbol, misunderstood by a world which mocks us M y s t i c s ! Lord, I pray you, may our r e i g n come! Remember a l s o the g l o r y of Paul S e r u s i e r who has permited me to progress toward the best A r t ; When I s a i d Denis was not r e a l l y a "Symbolist" even i n 1890, I meant the s p e c i f i c k i n d of Symbolism, " i n t e l l e c t u a l " i n nature, a s s o c i a t e d w i t h Mallarme. This i s the Symbolism ("Ideism") f o r which A u r i e r found a counterpart i n the p a i n t i n g of Gauguin and h i s c i r c l e . ( See H.R. Rookmaaker, S y n t h e t i s t A r t Theories, 1959, pp.70-72, f o r the d i s t i n c t i o n -adopted from G. Michaud, Message poetique I I I , 1947- to be made among the movements a s s o c i a t e d r e s p e c t i v e l y w i t h Rimbaud, V e r l a i n e and Mallarme.) Denis' i n i t i a l "Symbolism" could be, i n my o p i n i o n , a s s o c i a t e d w i t h V e r l a i n e ' s "poesie a f f e c t i v e " and the movement t h a t held him as "grandmaster." This group ( i n which Rook- maaker i n c l u d e d G. Kahn) emphasized s u b j e c t i v i f y to a higher degree, personal emotions, and used "idea" i n Schopenhauer's sense. Denis ( who i l l u s t r a t e d V e r l a i n e ' s Sagesse i n 1889), as i s evident from h i s 1890 a r t i c l e , considered emotions, "the s t a t e s of s o u l , " as the most important i n g r e d i e n t s of a work of a r t t h e r e f o r e a t the time he used intense, b r i g h t c o l o u r s , yet vagueness i n d e f i n i n g forms ( j u s t as Blanc recommended f o r the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s , envisaged as. capable of t r a n s p o r t i n g the ^.viewer i n t o the i d e a l world). In accordance w i t h the a r t t h e o r i e s s t i l l p r e v a i l i n g a t the time ( c o l o r appealing to the sentiment, l i n e to the i n t e l l e c t ) , p a i n t i n g s such as the above mentioned S u n l i g h t on the Terrace, or The Orange C h r i s t ( Welsh-Ovcharov, No.143), both of 1890, d i d not address themselves to the i n t e l l e c t . I would p o i n t out t h a t Denis' w e l l known d e f i n i t i o n of p a i n t i n g of the same year, d i d not mention " l i n e " or " S t y l e , " only " c o l o u r s " and f l a t n e s s . I f t h i s k i n d of p a i n t i n g d e r i v e d u l t i m a t e l y ( through the intermediary of S e r u s i e r ' s Talisman) from Gauguin's teaching, as Denis claimed ( f i r s t time i n 1903, conveniently a f t e r Gauguin's death), i t could only mean t h a t Gauguin was not i n i t i a t i n g S e r u s i e r i n t o h i s l a t e s t s t y l e , because a t the time he was deeply Involved ( s a c r i f i c i n g "every- t h i n g , " i n c l u d i n g "colour") w i t h " S t y l e , " t h a t i s w i t h the " i n t e l l e c t u a l " l i n e . ( S e e n.19, above). The use of " s y n t h e t i c " colour could have been suggested by Gauguin i n 1888, but when S e r u s i e r was r e a l l y under the i n f l u e n c e of Gauguin, he painted f o r example Landscape a t Le Pouldu ( summer 1890, Welsh- Ovcharov, No.139) a t a p e s t r y - l i k e p a i n t i n g , r e f l e c t i n g as Gauguin's p i c t u r e s of 18 89-9 0, a strong debt to Cezanne's method of c o l o r modulation. C For the strong s p e l l c a s t by Cezanne on Gauguin.in t h a t p a r t i c u l a r p e r i o d see f o r example, J . Rewald, Post-Impressionism, 1978, p.286.) In h i s Mouvement I d e a l i s t e en Peinture of 1896, M e l l e r i o , who d i d not consider the l a b e l "Symbolist" as having any more r e a l s i g n i f i c a n c e than t h a t of - 214 - " I m p r e s s i o n i s t , " c l a s s i f i e d Denis.,-Bernard, and F i l i g e r as "Mystics,," and S e r u s i e r among th.e. "Synth.etis.ts." M e l l e r i o ref- l a t e d t h a t a c c o r d i n g to Serusier,, the genesis of a work of a r t takes p l a c e i n two s t e p s : a t f i r s t the s p e c t a c l e of nature p l a c e s us i n an " i n v o l u n t a r y s t a t e of s o u l " ( un e t a t d'Sme i n v O l o n t a i r e ) , and then, i n the mind the i d e a i s formed, which i s " s u p e r i o r " because of i t s " l o g i c and harmony" C o p . c i t . , p.45). The Idea i s b e s t expressed by s y n t h e s i s , by n e g l e c t i n g the d e t a i l s and r e t a i n i n g the " c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s " > a c c o r d i n g to S e r u s i e r . A l e t t e r of S e r u s i e r to Verkade, of 1892, i s i n accordance w i t h what M a l l e r i o s a i d (. see the quote i n Rookmaaker, p.168). S e r u s i e r i n s i s t e d there on a " f i r m and simple drawing," without d e t a i l s , but w i t h any l i n e being " v o l u n t a r y , " having i t s " e x p r e s s i v e and d e c o r a t i v e r o l e i n the ensemble." The f i r m l i n e was necessary i n order to d e f i n e form, the e x p r e s s i o n of the Idea, as A u r i e r i n d i c a t e d i n h i s a r t i c l e "Le Symbolisme en p e i n t u r e " of 1891. C He s t a t e d t h a t the new " I d e i s t " a r t was "Symbolist, f o r i t expresses t h i s Idea by means of form." A u r i e r adopted the P l o t i n i a n theory a c c o r d i n g to which the Idea was i d e n t i f i e d w i t h the "thought," was a c c e s s i b l e o n l y to " s u p e r i o r i n t e l l i g e n c e s . " ) Denis, not only i n 1890, but even l a t e r , d i d not t a l k about the "Idea," but o n l y about " s t a t e s of the s o u l , " emotions, f e e l i n g s . In f a c t , he never accepted A u r i e r ' s p h i l o s o p h y , and f o r him forms corresponded or were e q u i v a l e n t s of " s e n s a t i o n s " ( f e e l i n g s ) , even when w e l l d e f i n e d by l i n e s , as i n the s t y l e he l a t e r adopted. In the "Neo- t r a d i t i o n i s m " he d e c l a r e d : "Even a simple r e s e a r c h i n l i n e s , as the Femme en rouge by Anquetin ( a t the Champ-de-Mars) has a f e e l i n g v a l u e . " ( T r l . i n Chipp, p.99.) L a t e r , i n 1895 he w i l l t a l k about "emotion f e l t i n f r o n t of t h i n g s , " and i n 1909 about the " e x p r e s s i v e s y n t h e s i s " as the "symbol of a s e n s a t i o n . " ( See a l s o n.23.) His l a t e r w r i t i n g s do not g i v e u n f o r t u n a t e l y r e l i a b l e i n f o r m a t i o n on the exact nature of the e a r l i e r a r t ( t h a t i s on the exact motives and i n t e n t i o n s t h a t generated t h a t a r t ) produced by him, or h i s group. In h i s w r i t i n g s over the y e a r s , Denis kept coming back to h i s beginnings, t h a t i s to "Symbolism," updating i t and r e v i s i n g i t a c c o r d i n g to the l a t e s t p r e v a i l i n g t r e n d . He d i d not always want to be a s s o c i a t e d with i d e a l i s m , and r e v i s e d h i s p o s i t i o n on the r e l a t i o n s h i p a r t / nature. But i n 1890 he d i d appear as a " p a i n t e r of the s o u l . " He c o n s i d e r e d t h a t a "motif d e r i v e d from nature" i n i t s e l f , should not be the source of emotion induced i n the viewer, but "the s t a t e of the a r t i s t ' s s o u l , " the "emotion" t h a t "emerges from the canvas i t s e l f , a plane s u r f a c e covered with c o l o u r s , " should be t h a t source. ( See M. Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.10.) Denis i s i n accord here w i t h Gustave Kahn's brand of Symbolism and i d e a l i s m , the essence of which was formulated by the l a t t e r i n L'Evenement of 1886. What i s important i s not when and i f these p a i n t e r s c o u l d be l a b e l l e d "Symbolists" ( which i s not a w e l l - d e f i n e d term), but the f a c t t h a t because of t h e i r commitment to i d e a l i s m , mysticism, C a t h o l i c i s m , on one hand, and " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" on the other, they i n t r o d u c e d i n p a i n t i n g the" f l a t n e s s u n t i l then accepted o n l y i n some d e c o r a t i v e a r t s . A l s o , a t the time, o n l y a r t i s t s of t h i s p a r t i c u l a r o r i e n t a t i o n i n t r o d u c e d i n t o p a i n t i n g a b s o l u t e f l a t n e s s , t h a t i s both l a c k of r e l i e f f o r o b j e c t s , as w e l l as no attempt to simulate depth. http://Synth.etis.ts - 215 - 35 Even i f i n i t s f i r s t phase, " C l o i s o n i s m " was n o t a p e r f e c t i m i t a t i o n o f the M e d i e v a l c l o i s o n n e , and most l i k e l y was not i n t e n d e d t o he, B e r n a r d ' s C l o i s o n i s m - S y n t h e t i s m seems to be a c o n s c i o u s e f f o r t t o f i t D u j a r d i n ' s l a b e l . A l s o , B e r n a r d met A u r i e r as e a r l y as the s p r i n g o f 1887 C n o t i n 1888, as he s a i d i n the open l e t t e r to M a u c l a i r ; f o r t h i s i n f o r m a t i o n , see Welsh- Ovcharov, p.53) and k e p t i n touch w i t h him e v e r s i n c e , no doubt b e i n g i n f l u e n c e d by t h e young S y m b o l i s t p o e t toward Neo-Plato-'. nism, and a h i e r a t i c and s p i r i t u a l i z e d a r t , o r a t l e a s t r e i n - f o r c i n g h i s own i d e a s t h r o u g h t h e s e c o n t a c t s . A u r i e r ' s a r t i c l e o f 1891, w h i c h d e s c r i b e d Gauguin's ( and h i s group's) s t y l e as the Symbolism i n p a i n t i n g , c o n t r i b u t e d a l s o to c o n s o l i d a t e the a s s o c i a t i o n between p i c t o r i a l Symbolism and " t r u e " d e c o r a t i o n , as w i l l be e v i d e n t s h o r t l y . 36 The f a c t t h a t T o u l o u s e - L a u t r e c ' s p o s t e r s were " C l o i s o n i s t i c " d i d not have, f o r example, the same s i g n i f i c a n c e as i t would have had i n p a i n t i n g s ( where he a c t u a l l y r e t a i n e d m o d e l l i n g ) . I do n o t t h i n k h i s A t the C i r c u s Fernando ( c o l o r p l a t e No.28 i n Welsh-Ovcharov) can be c o n s i d e r e d an example o f C l o i s o n i s m , as Welsh-Ovcharov r e g a r d s i t . 37 R e a l i s m o r N a t u r a l i s m were s t i l l s u p p o r t e d by Z o l a ' s group ( such as f o r example by . T h i e b a u l t - S i s s o n ) , b u t they were i n a m i n o r i t y . The p r e v a i l i n g o p i n i o n , even among e x - N a t u r a - l i s t s , was t h a t s t r i c t R e a l i s m c o m p l e t e l y n e g l e c t e d " i n n e r l i f e , " o r any human emotion. 3 8 For " d e c o r a t i v e " v e r s u s " d e c o r a t i o n , " see the l a s t s e c t i o n o f Ch.I, P a r t 2. 39 A u r i e r ' s p o s i t i o n i s b e s t e x p r e s s e d i n h i s " E s s a i s u r une n o u v e l l e methode de c r i t i q u e , " Oeuvres Posthumes, ed. Mercure de F r a n c e , 1893. The quote i s from " E s s a i , " p.201. 40 G . - A l b e r t A u r i e r , "Le Symbolisme en p e i n t u r e , " Mercure de F r a n c e , March 1891, p.163. 41 I b i d : my t r a n s l a t i o n . Compare to D e n i s ' "Neo- t r a d i t i o n i s m " o f 1890, s e c t i o n XXIV. 42 4 3 44 45 A u r i e r , "Le Symbolisme...," p.160 See A u r i e r , " E s s a i . . . , " p.195. A u r i e r , "Le Symbolisme...," p.16 3, See A u r i e r , "Le Symbolisme...," pp.158-59, and A u r i e r , "Les S y m b o l i s t e s , " Revue E n c y c l o p e d i q u e , No.23, A p r i l 5 1892, pp.483-85. The young p a i n t e r s l e d by Gauguin, the "newly a r r i v e d " on the a r t scene were the group o f Pont-Aven and the N a b i s . 46 I n "Les S y m b o l i s t e s , " 1892, p.484, A u r i e r s a i d : Avec, comme dogmes foundamentaux, l e symbole e t l a syn these,' c ' e s t - a - d i r e 1 ' e x p r e s s i o n des i d e e s - 216 - e t l a s i m p l i f i c a t i o n . e g t h j i t i q u e e t l o g i q u e des f o r m e s , c ' e s t a run a r t de d e c o r a t i o n , a un a r t de f r e s q u e s monumentales, p l u t o t qu'a l a p e i n t u r e de c h e v a l e t , que d e v a i e n t , en e f f e t , a b o u t i r , s ' l i s en e u s s e n t e u l a p o s s i - b i l i t e m a t e r i e l l e , l e s a r t i s t e s de c e t t e e c o l e . 47 A u r i e r , "Les S y m b o l i s t e s . . . , " 1891, p.165. I n a l e t t e r t o D a n i e l de M o n f r i e d , of August 1892, Gauguin w r o t e ; To t h i n k t h a t I was b o r n t o do d e c o r a t i v e a r t and t h a t I have n o t been a b l e to a c h i e v e i t . N e i t h e r windows, nor f u r n i t u r e , nor c e r a - m i c s , nor whatever... There l i e my r e a l a p t i t u d e s much more than i n p a i n t i n g s t r i c t l y s p e a k i n g . (. Quoted i n H.B. C h i p p , T h e o r i e s o f Modern A r t , 1973, p.64.) Gauguin b r o u g h t i n T a h i t i from P a r i s photographs o f f r i e z e s from E g y p t i a n tombs, w h i c h he used i n f r e s c o - l i k e p a i n t i n g i n tempera, The Market o f 1892 ( i n Kunstmuseum, B a s e l ) , no doubt i n f l u e n c e d by A u r i e r . 48 A. A u r i e r , " V i n c e n t van Gogh," Ouvres Posthumes, pp.261- 262. 49 A u r i e r , "Les S y m b o l i s t e s , " 1892, p.482. I b i d ^ X R i c h a r d S h i f t , ("The End o f I m p r e s s i o n i s m : A Study i n T h e o r i e s o f A r t i s t i c E x p r e s s i o n , " A r t Q u a r t e r l y New S e r i e s , V o l . 1, no.4, Autumn 1978, p p . 3 3 8 - 3 7 8 ) , ' t r i e d t o c l o s e the gap b e t - ween I m p r e s s i o n i s m and Symbolism, based m a i n l y on the " s u b j e c - t i v i s m " o f I m p r e s s i o n i s m . ( He n o t i c e d t h a t t h i s s u b j e c t i v i s m was not b e i n g t a k e n i n t o a c c o u n t by modern s c h o l a r s , such as Rewald o r N o c h l i n . ) However, S h i f f does n o t make enough d i s - t i n c t i o n between the I m p r e s s i o n i s m o f the 1870s ( w h i c h i n my o p i n i o n i s the I m p r e s s i o n i s m p r o p e r , i f t h i s l a b e l i s t o be a p p l i e d a t a l l ) and the a r t p r a c t i c e d by the o l d " I m p r e s s i o n i s t s " i n t h e 1880s and 1890s. One c a n n o t r e a l l y s u p p o r t an argument r e g a r d i n g the a r t and i n t e n t i o n o f the a r t i s t s i n the 1870s, e i t h e r w i t h the p a i n t i n g s , o r w i t h the comments made by the a r t i s t s i n the 1890s, when Symbolism was the a v a n t - g a r d e move- ment. A t t h a t t i m e , the a r t o f the o l d I m p r e s s i o n i s t s had changed, depending on how much p e r s o n a l c o n v i c t i o n a l l o w e d v a r i o u s I n d i v i d u a l a r t i s t s t o "keep up w i t h t h e t i m e s . " A l s o , " p a r t i z a n " c r i t i c s t r i e d t o demonstrate t h a t the a r t i s t s they s u p p o r t e d were the t r u e i n n o v a t o r s (as Lecomte d i d f o r example). S h i f t ' s a t t e m p t t o e r a s e e s s e n t i a l d i f f e r e n c e s between Impress- i o n i s m "even i n i t s p u r e s t o r i g i n a l form" ( o p . c i t . , p.342) and Symbolism i s somehow f a r - f e t c h e d . I n any e v e n t , what i s i m p o r t a n t i n d e f i n i n g a movement, i s not what the a r t i s t s C the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s o f 1870s i n t h i s case) r e a l l y b e l i e v e d , o r the methods they a c t u a l l y used, b u t the image they wanted t o p r e s e n t , the banner under w h i c h they - 217 - gathered, What they- r e a l l y - d i d and b e l i e v e d i s .something q u i t e d i f f i c u l t to prove.,;.: because' they purposely t r i e d to ma i n ta, i n a, " v e i l of mystery" C to use P i s s a r r o ' s expression)., s i n c e trends were changing r a p i d l y and a f i r m commitment a way or another c o u l d have been .regretted l a t e r . Thus Mallarme was r i g h t i n 1876, i n i m p l y i n g t h a t Manet's- technique was a " s k i l l e d a r t i f i c e c a l c u l a t e d to g i v e the" appearance of s p o n t a n e i t y , " as S h i f f p o i n t e d out (" o p . c i t . , p.361). The f a c t remains i and S h i f f admits i t ) t h a t i n the 187 0s, the avant-garde C a r t i s t s and c r i t i c s ) embraced a m a t e r i a l i s t philosophy, and i n p a r t i c u l a r the p o s i t i v i s m of Auguste Comte and h i s f o l l o w e r s . Consequently, the a r t i s t s d i d nothing i n . t h e i r a r t t h a t would contravene the appearance of u s i n g the e m p i r i c a l method of d i r e c t o b s e r v a t i o n . While s u b j e c t i v e C due to the d i f f e r e n c e s i n "temperament" -see Ch.II, P a r t 2, p.149 and n.28 on the " m a t e r i a l i s t i c , " p h y s i o - l o g i c a l d e f i n i t i o n of t h i s term), Impressionism d i d not accept " i d e a l i s m " or even "conceptualism." Because i t was based on "temperament," t h i s s u b j e c t i v i s m was of an " i n v o l u n t a r y " nature. 52 See A u r i e r , Mercure 1891, p.157. A u r i e r admits t h a t Impressionism i s more s u b j e c t i v e than Courbet's r e a l i s m , but as f o r Courbet, "Le substratum e t l e but d e r n i e r de l e u r a r t c ' e s t l a chose m a t e r i e l l e , l a chose r e e l e . " Impressionism, a c c o r d i n g to A u r i e r , t r a n s l a t e d an " e x c l u s i v e l y s e n s o r i a l impression." T h e r e f o r e , L'Impressionnisme, c ' e s t e t ce ne peut e t r e qu'une v a r i e t e du r e a l i s m e , un r e a l i s m e a f f i n e , s p i r i t u a l i s e , d i l e t t a n t i s e , mais t o u j o u r r e a l i s m e . Le but v i s e , c ' e s t encore 1 ' i m i t a t i o n de l a matiere, non p l u s p e u t - g t r e avec sa forme propre, sa c o u l e u r propre, mais avec sa forme pergue, avec. sa c o u l e u r pergue, c ' e s t l a t r a d u c t i o n de l a sen- s a t i o n avec tous l e s imprevus d'une n o t a t i o n i n s t a n t a n e e , avec toutes l e s deformations d'une r a p i d e synthese s u b j e c t i v e . A u r i e r was i n f a c t one of the f i r s t to p o i n t out the sub- j e c t i v i s m i m p l i e d i n Zola's d e f i n i t i o n of Naturalism, "nature seen through a temperament" ( see A u r i e r , "Van Gogh," p.260), and t h a t "a Symbolism" was " i m p l i c i t e l y admitted by the natura- l i s t s " ( see A u r i e r , "Les Symbolistes," p.480, as w e l l as p.476). I t i s not c o r r e c t to say though, as S h i f f d i d , t h a t A u r i e r d i d not d i r e c t h i s c r i t i c i s m to Monet, P i s s a r r o , or Renoir ( see S h i f f , "The End of Impressionism," p.340). 53 See A u r i e r , "Le Symbolisme...," p.15 8. 54 See A u r i e r ' s comments on P i s s a r r o ' s e x h i b i t s a t the Boussod e t Valadon i n 1890. (. A u r i e r , " C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o , " Oeuvres Posthumes, pp.241, 242, 244; o r i g i n a l l y p u b l i s h e d i n La Independante i n 189 0.) 55 A u r i e r was acquainted w i t h both of them. . M a u r i c e Denis used i n 189.0 the term " N e o ^ t r a d i t i o n i s m " (. which, he l a t e r had d e c l a r e d to be e q u i v a l e n t w i t h C l o i s o n n i s m , Synthetism, Symbolism or Tdeism) i n order to express a r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t the photographic n a t u r a l i s m of the academies. He d i d - 218 - not s t r o n g l y r e a c t a t the time a g a i n s t Impressionism, as Bernard and Gauguin d i d , A u r i e r mentioned the term "Neo^Traditionism" i n his- 1892 a r t i c l e , S e r u s i e r was p a r t i c u l a r l y a p p r e c i a t i v e of P i s s a r r o . t See f o r example h i s d e c l a r a t i o n i n 1905, Ch.II, P a r t 1, n.144.) 5 6 A u r i e r , "Les Symbolistes," 189 2, p.483. 57 Georges Lecomte was a f r i e n d of Feneon, and he had e a r l y t i e s w i t h l i t e r a r y Symbolism as the e d i t o r of La Cravache i n 1888. L i k e Feneon, he was a defender of Neo-Impressionism, but e s p e c i a l l y of Impressionism, and P i s s a r r o i n p a r t i c u l a r . For more i n f o r m a t i o n on G. Lecomte see Hector T a l v a r t , B i b l i o g r a p h i e des auteurs moderns de langue f r a n c a i s e , (1801- 19 53), P a r i s , 1954, ed. de l a chronique des l e t t r e s f r a n c a i s e s . 5 8 The l e c t u r e s a t the Salon des XX are p u b l i s h e d i n : Georges Lecomte, "Des tendances de l a p e i n t u r e moderne," L ' A r t Moderne, Feb. 1892, Vol.12, No.7, pp.49-51; No.8, p.57-58; No.9, pp.65-67. B e l i n d a Thomson, " C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o and Symbolism...," 1982, p.23, suggested a l s o t h a t Lecomte might have f e l t compelled to r e d r e s s the " c r i t i c a l balance" ( a f t e r A u r i e r ' s a r t i c l e on Gauguin i n March) i n h i s a r t i c l e " C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o , " La Plume, No.57, Sept. 1891, pp.301-302, "prompted by c o n v e r s a t i o n s w i t h the i n f u r i a t e d P i s s a r r o , " "who we now know, d i d comment on Aur- i e r 1 s a r t i c l e . C See a l s o n.23, t h i s s e c t i o n . ) In La Plume, p.3 02, Lecomte wrote: Cet a r t , t r e s i n t e l l e c t u a l par l ' a u - d e l a q u ' i l suggere, l ' e s t p l u s encore par son mode d'expre- ssion...Son t a l e n t n'est pas r e a l i s t e . L ' i m i t a t i o n s e r v i l e , i r r e f l e c h i e ne l e s a t i s f a i t pas. I l c h o i s i t ses m o t i f s ou l e s r e c r e e personnellement, en vue d'un maximum d e c o r a t i f . I l elague e t syn- t h e t i s e ; i l compose, i l i n t e r p r g t e . Sensiblement i l l ' e s t l'homo a d d i t u s naturae de Bacon. 59 Lecomte used the e x p r e s s i o n "tendances n o u v e l l e s " i n L ' A r t Moderne, No.8, p.58. 60 Lecomte, L ' A r t Moderne, No.7, p.50. ^ X I b i d . , No.9, p.66. 6 2 I b i d . , p.65. Feneon was the c h i e f spokesman f o r the Neo-Impressionists and he d e s c r i b e d f o r example the a r t of Signac i n s i m i l a r terms. Signac's p a i n t i n g s were, "exemplary specimens of a h i g h l y developed d e c o r a t i v e a r t , which s a c r i f i c e s the anecdote to the arabesque, nomenclature to s y n t h e s i s , the f u g i t i v e to the permanent, and c o n f e r s on nature -weary a t l a s t of i t s p r e c a r i o u s r e a l i t y - an auth- e n t i c r e a l i t y . " (From Feneon, "Paul Signac," Les Hommes d'aujourd'hui, Vol.8, No.373, 1890, as t r a n s l a t e d i n J . Rewald/ Po s t-Impre s s i o n ism, 3d ed., New York: MOMA, 1978, pp.124-125.) - 219 - Compare to what Signa,a h i m s e l f s a i d a few years l a t e r • Ch.I, P a r t 2, n,135. g 2 . . . . . . Lecomte," L' Ar t Modern ,'6, No. 9 , p.66. 64 Lecomte, L ' A r t i m p r e s s i o n n i s t e d'apres l a c o l l e c t i o n p r i v e e de M. Durand-Ruel, P a r i s , 1892, p.261. 6 ^ See Lecomte, L ' A r t Moderne, No.9, p.66. R e f e r r i n g to the I d e i s t p a i n t e r s , Lecomte s a i d : L'examen a t t e n t i f que nous avons f a i t de c e t t e r e n a i s s a n c e i d e a l i s t e me f a i t c r a i n d r e que ces a r t i s t e s , guides par ce t r e s haut s o u c i de syn- thase e t de d e c o r a t i o n , n'en v i e n n e n t a annuler, pour l ' a t t e i n d r e , l a r e a l l t e des apparences e t l e c a r a c t e r e . 66 67 s a i d : 68 69 I b i d . See Lecomte, L ' A r t Impress i o n n i s t e , p.260. Lecomte T e l l e aurone de M. P i s s a r r o , t e l l e marine de M. Claude Monet nous semblent, en e f f e t , a u s s i s u g g e s t i v e s que r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . De l e u r chaudes armonies se degage l a Pensee; l e r§ve s'en e s s o r e . Le grand mystere de l a nature e s t par e l l e rendu. Lecomte, L ' A r t Moderne, No.9, p.66. On the d e f i n i t i o n of the arabesque see Henry Havard, D i c t i o n n a i r e de 1'ameublement e t de l a d e c o r a t i o n , not dated, but i n p r e p a r a t i o n i n ! 8 8 4 ( l i s t e d as such i n h i s L ' a r t dans l a maison of 1884), pp.116-117. V i c t o r Champier, i n h i s a r t i c l e on P.-V. G a l l a n d (Gazette des Beaux-Arts, 1888, Vol.37, p.114) commented on the f a c t t h a t the a r t of the ornament uses a c t u a l l y a f a i r l y l i m i t e d number of cominations o f forms, the arabesque b e i n g one of them: Les anciens nous ont l a i s s e c e t t e r e p e t i t i o n de l i g n e s b r i s e e s qu'on a p p e l l e une grecque; l e s Orientaux on emprunte l e u r i n e p u i s a b l e v a r i e t e de decors a l a geometrie ou a l a f l o r e n a t u r e l l e . Les arabesques decouvertes a Pompei e t r e h a b i l i t e e s par Raphael sont aujourd'hui encore l e r e p e r t o i r e u s u e l ou vont p u i s e r nos a r t i s t e s s o i - d i s a n t nova- t e u r s . En France, l e s B e r a i n , l e s Le.pautre, l e s Audran, se sont i l l u s t r e s r i e n que par l a noblesse e t l'harmonie d'un s t y l e auquel i l s ont a t t a c h e l e u r nom. C'est done que l a chose e s t d i f f i c i l e . C e t t e s o r t e d ' a r t qu'on a p e l l e ornemental, n'ayant guere pour moyen d'expression que l a r e p r e s e n t a t i o n de chosees inanimees, r e s t e t o u j o u r s a b s t r a i t . C'est un langage t r e s vague, un peu f r o i d , axiquel rarement v i e n n e n t s ' a j o u t e r une image ou une formule n o u v e l l e , que I'on emploie malaisement et. q u i d o i t s'adresser a 1 ' e s p r i t , a l a r a i s o n , sans passer par l e coeur. - 220 ••- Th.e ornamental l i n e , (.as f o r example the arabesque) was thus a b l e to r e l a t e to the i n t e l l e c t through i t s ; a b s t r a c t s t y l i z a t i o n . The o l d academic theory- about l i n e being r e l a t e d to the i n t e l l e c t and c o l o r to the h e a r t C or as Charles Blanc put i t i n the Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , 1867, p.22, "The drawing i s of the masculine sex; c o l o r i s of feminine s e x . " ) , was s t i l l widely h e l d . See a l s o a d i s c u s s i o n on the t o p i c of the arabesque i n a r t and music c r i t i c i s m and theory i n the 19th century, i n Joseph. Masheck 1 s a r t i c l e , "The Carpet Paradigm: C r i t i c a l P r o l e - gomena to a Theory of F l a t n e s s , " A r t s Magazine, 1976, Vol.51, pp.88-89. Georges Lecomte h i m s e l f connects the d e c o r a t i v e tendency i n p a i n t i n g w i t h the one i n music and a l s o p o e t r y . He s a i d , D ' a i l l e u r s toutes l e s oeuvres grandes, en dehors m§me des a r t s p l a s t i q u e s , n ' a p p a r a i s s e n t - e l l e s pas r e v i t u e s d'une s p e c i a l e beaute, comme d e c o r a t i v e ? Les a l l i t e r a t i o n s de s y l l a b e s dans un v e r s , l e s e v o l u t i o n s e t l e s r a p p e l s de c e r t a i n s v e r s dans une strophe, pour completer l a pensee e t l e rythme, l a r e p e t i t i o n de strophes dans un poeme, c o n s t i t u e n t des a s t r a g a l e s e t des d e n t e l l e s q u i d e s s i n e n t l e u r s arabesques sur l a trame c o l o r e e des mots, o r i e n t par l e u r s c i r c u i t s d'un s i g r a - c i e u x d e s s i n des harmonies d'ensemble e t r e l i e n t l e s d i v e r s aspects de l ' i d e e . Mais c ' e s t s u r t o u t en musique que 1'arrangement d e c o r a t i f e s t e v i d e n t . . . ( Lecomte, L ' A r t Moderne, No.7, pp.50-51.) Octave Mirbeau a l s o saw "a g r e a t d e c o r a t i v e p o e t r y " i n C. P i s s a r r o ' s p a i n t i n g . ( See Mirbeau's comments on P i s s a r r o ' 189 2 e x h i b i t i o n a t Durand-Ruel, quoted by Ralph E . S h i k e s and Paula Harper, P i s s a r r o , His L i f e and Work, New York, Horizon Press, 1980, p.262.) s 70 71 72 73 Lecomte, L ' A r t Moderne, No.8, p.58. I b i d See Ch.I, P a r t 1, pp. 40-41. For example, d e s c r i b i n g I m p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g , the c r i t i c Armand S i l v e s t r e s a i d , "C'est un e f f e t d'impression qu' e l l e p o u r s u i uniquement, l a i s s a n t l a recherche de 1'expression aux passionees de l a l i g n e " ("L'Exposition des r e v o l t e s , " L'Opinion N a t i o n a l e , 22 Apr. 1874, quoted i n Jaques Letheve, I m p r e s s i o n i s t e s e t Symbolistes devant l a presse, P a r i s : Armand C o l i n , 1959, p.63), or "Peu soucieuse de l a forme, e l l e e s t exclusivement d e c o r a t i v e e t c o l o r i s t e " (L'Opinion N a t i o n a l e , 2 Apr. 19 76, quoted i n L i o n e l l o V e n t u r i / Les A r c h i v e s de '-;.•'" 1'Impressionnisme, Paris-New York, 1939, Vb1,II, p.2 86). Both q u o t a t i o n s were a l s o mentioned by Steven Z. Levine i n h i s doc- t o r a l d i s s e r t a t i o n , Monet' and h i s C r i t i c s , New York-London, Garland Publ.Inc., 1976, p.14. On p.29, Levine comments on the c r i t i c i s m of I m p r e s s i o n i s t p a i n t i n g s i n g e n e r a l : "Whether - 221 - t h e i r p a i n t i n g s were roost f r u i t f u l l y to.be seen as t r a d i t i o n a l tableaux or as a new k i n d of. d e c o r a t i v e a r t was a q u e s t i o n t h a t would become a c r u c i a l i s s u e of c r i t i c i s m i n the years ahead," Levine d i d e x t r a c t from h i s d i s s e r t a t i o n the t o p i c "Decor/ D e c o r a t i v e / D e c o r a t i o n i n Claude Monet's A r t , " p u b l i s h e d i n A r t s Magazine, Vol.51, No, 6, Feb. 1977, pp. 136-142, but one wisheg,=he had d e f i n e d those terms Cthe t i t l e of the a r t i c l e would have r e q u i r e d i t ) . , e s p e c i a l l y the d i f f e r e n c e between " d e c o r a t i v e " and "decoration," a t a l l times. He covered a long p e r i o d of time, d u r i n g which those concepts underwent v a r i o u s changes. 74 In f a c t some of Monet's " d e c o r a t i o n s " were blown-up v e r s i o n s of h i s tableaux ( f o r example No.420- L'Etang a Montgeron" i n D a n i e l W i l d e n s t e l n , Claude Monet, Lausanne-Paris, 1974, was p a i n t e d a f t e r the s m a l l e r p a i n t i n g No.419) and even when they d i d not have a s m a l l e r c o u n t e r p a r t , they were no d i f f e r e n t i n p r i n c i p l e from h i s e a s e l p a i n t i n g s , admittedly, of a " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t . " His " d e c o r a t i o n s " c o u l d e x h i b i t a pro- nounced i l l u s i o n of depth ("see f o r example W i l d e n s t e i n No. 433, La Chasse, one of the f o u r d e c o r a t i o n s he d i d for. Hoschede), atmospheric p e r s p e c t i v e , i n other words the "window" concept. A l s o , h i s or other I m p r e s s i o n i s t s ' p a i n t i n g s of the 1870s c o u l d not be seen as d e c o r a t i o n s even when intended as such, s i n c e they l a c k e d an ordered composition and " S t y l e " ( a s s o c i a t e d with i'ihe) i Compare w i t h Darcei-rs-:-def i n i t i o r i of " d e c o r a t i v e painting" "(-that i s "'painting."Which is.i decoration) , P a r t 1, p.41. 75 So d i d Octave Maus., as i s e v i d e n t from h i s Preambule f o r the Catalogue de l a Ve E x p o s i t i o n des XX, B r u x e l l e s , 1888, which he e n t i t l e d "La recherche de l a lumiere dans l a p e i n t u r e . " The t r a n s i t i o n from the concern w i t h l i g h t ( a s s o c i a t e d w i t h " t r u t h " and c o l o r ) to a concern w i t h S t y l e ( a s s o c i a t e d w i t h the decor, l i n e ) i n French landscape p a i n t i n g was welcomed i n 189 3 by the c r i t i c Raymond Bouyer i n L ' A r t i s t e , h a r d l y an avant- garde j o u r n a l . Bouyer, who saw i n the h i s t o r y of landscape an antagonism between what he c a l l e d l e paysage r u s t i q u e (best example to be found i n the " v e r a c i t y of the modern p l e i n - a i r " ) and l e paysage de s t y l e , or l e paysage compose ( e x e m p l i f i e d by N i c o l a s P o u s s i n ) , c o n s i d e r e d the new tendency toward the l a t t e r as a r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t the former. I t i s i n the sense of " l a n d - scape of S t y l e , " t h a t he r e f e r s to the " d e c o r a t i v e landscape" ("entrevu comme fond l i n e a i r e dans une f r e s q u e " ) , when he says, On s ' o r i e n t e de p l u s en p l u s v e r s l e Paysage d e c o r a t i f c ' e s t - a d i r e v e r s l a composition, p l e i n e d ' a t t i r a n c e s , de n o b l e s s e s , - e t d ' e c u e i l s . P i t t o r e s q u e e t eurythmie se d i s p u t e n t desor- mais 1 ' a t e l i e r du p l e i n - a i r : deux v o l o n t e s r i v a l e s . Apres l e s e f f l u v e s documentaires de l ' o p t i q u e i m p r e s s i o n i s t e e t du reportage n a t u r a l i s t e , l ' a r t r e v i e n t au s t y l e par l e q u e l debuta Corot, p r e c u r s e u r des douces lumieres amies des melodieux songes, (. Raymond Bouyer, "Le Paysage dans l ' a r t , " L ' A r t i s t e , Aug. 189.3, p. 113. For the dichotomy LIGHT/STYLE see e s p e c i a l l y I b i d . , p.114 and L ' A r t i s t e , J u l y 1893, p.37.1 http://to.be - 222 - As Lecomte,..Bouyer advocates an a r t t h a t balances the two p o l e s Cwhich were a l s o r e p r e s e n t a t i v e of other dichotomies; c o l o r / l i n e , truth/beauty, r e a l i t y / d r e a m , e t c . ) , " . , , e t l e m i r a c l e d'une p e i n t u r e n o u v e l l e ne s e r a i t - i l pas d'§tre-moderne en r e s t a n t a r t i s t e , de s e n t i r l a lumiere en degageant l e s t y l e ? " C Bouyer, L ' A r t i s t e , , J u l y 1893, p.46.) A l s o , s i m i l a r to Lecomte's comments are Bouyer's remarks on the d e c o r a t i v e tendencies of the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s . On Monet of 189.0s he s a i d : A u s s i d i s c u t e e que l a S e r i e de Meules (.1891) , l a S e r i e de P e u p l i e r s (1892) d'une l a r g e u r p l u s sobre, v i e n t de nous d e c o u v r i r un r e e l p l e i n de r§ve, s i n o n de s t y l e , l a v a r i e t e dans 1'unite, un m i l i e u exact q u i veut d e v e n i r un ambitieux decor; On C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o ( r e f e r r i n g to the r e c e n t e x h i b i t i o n a t Durand-Ruel i n February 1892), Renoir (Durand-Ruel, May 1892) and Degas (Durand-Ruel, November 189 2), he s a i d : . . . c e t t e s u i t e h i s t o r i q u e d 1 impressions aeriennes O .Pissarro' s] , s i logiquement p r o g r e s s i v e depuis l e s Sapins a Louveciennes ( n o . l , 1870) encore t r e s homogenes e t c l a s s i q u e , procedant de Corot, jusqu'a"1'harmonieuse audace d'un S o l e i l C o u c h a n t amethyste e t or (no.40, 1891), - nous r e v e l a i t , au d e c l i n d'un s i e c l e l a s , une s o r t e d'Old Crone L p r e c u r s e u r renouant avec une l a b o r i e u s e e n e r g i e r u r a l e l e passe d'un a r t a son double a v e n i r . Apres Diaz, apres W h i s t l e r , l e s r e a l i s t e s Renoir e t Degas recherchent deja. 1'harmonie, l a synthese, dans de simple o p p o s i t i o n s " d e c o r a t i v e s " de l i g n e s e t de t e i n t e s . E t s i 1 ' e x t e r i o r i t e v i b r a n t e e s t deja temperee par l a p r e o c c u p a t i o n de "l'arabesque ornementale,"- l e nouveau s t y l e ou p l u t o t l a v e l l e i t e d'un nouveau s t y l e r e s t a u r e l a l i g n e en h e r i t a n t de l a lumiere a c q u i s e . . . Bouyer p o i n t e d out t h a t the young a r t i s t s found Impress- ionism d e f i c i e n t : . . . l e s jeunes eux-m@mes accusent l ' i m p r e s s - ionnisme d ' i n s u f f i s a n c e . Le r e e l e t l e r§ve l i v r e n t b a t a i l l e sur son nom; l a pensee d e c l a r e p a r t o u t l a guerre a toutes l e s b a n a l i t e s : l e Beau r e d e v i e n t a l a mode... ( See Bouyer, L ' A r t i s t e , Aug. 1893, pp.117-18.) 7 6 See Lecomte, L ' A r t Moderne, No.7, 1892, p.50, where he s a i d : ...ces recherches de lumiere nous a p p a r a i s s e n t , non comme un r e s u l t a t d e f i n i t i f , non comme un sommet a t t e i n t , mais p l u t S t comme un moyen p r o p i c e a l a r e a l i s a t i o n de p l u s i n c o n t e s t a b l e s tendances; permettant de r e s t i t u e r l e s complexes elements des harmonies n a t u r e l l e s , e l l e s permettent a i n s i d'en mieux rendre l a magnificence d e c o r a t i v e . 2 7 See a l s o L ' A r t Moderne No.8, p.58. - 223 - 77 See. Lecomte, L < Art... Moderne,: No, 8 , p.58. Lecomte des^ crib.es such, " b e a u t i f u l compositions" • (whose beauty was not only ornamental, but a l s o due to the p r e s e r v a t i o n of the. " c h a r a c t e r " of things), i n which h i s " f r i e n d and m a i t r e " C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o uses l i n e i n an ornamental way; . . . f i t voguer dans see c i e l s l i m p i d e s des nuages gracieusement arabesques, completa par 1'incur- v a t i o n de l a croupe des b§tes ou par l ' i n f l e x t i o n du dos de ses paysannes l a courbe d e c r i t e par l e u t r o n c d'un arbre, a s s o c i a aux o n d u l a t i o n s du s o l l e s j o l i e s v o l u t e s des ramures e t des f r o n d a i s o n s . Lecomte's comments on P i s s a r r o ' s a r t were very s i m i l a r i n f a c t with A u r i e r ' s . The l a t t e r was f a v o r a b l y impressed by P i s s a r r o ' s l a t e s t e x h i b i t s a t Boussod e t Valadon i n 1890 ( e x h i - b i t i o n o r g a n i z e d by Theo van Gogh), and remarked on the "rhythm of the contours" (to which he r e f e r r e d a l s o as to "mysterious l i n e a r music"), g i v i n g a l s o a d e s c r i p t i o n s i m i l a r to Lecomte's. A u r i e r , a l s o , c o n s i d e r e d the p a i n t i n g Berger sous une averse, "d'une synthese de d e s s i n s i m a g i s t r a l e , e s t , a ce p o i n t de vue de s i m p l i f i c a t i o n technique, un v r a i - c h e f - d ' o e u v r e . " ( A u r i e r , Oeuvres Posthumes, pp.242 and 244; see a l s o n.54, above.) 78 I b i d . Lecomte e x e m p l i f i e s t h i s with the a r t of Monet: . . . q u i p l u s longtemps se borna, mais avec q u e l l e puissance d'evocation I a rendre en l e u r i n t e n s i t e fugace l e s r a p i d e s e f f e t s n a t u r e l s , semble de p l u s a b s t r a i r e des complexes apparences l e c a r a c t e r e durable des choses, en accentuer, par un rendu p l u s s y n t h e t i q u e e t p l u s r e f l e c h i , l a s i g n i f i c a t i o n e t l a beaute d e c o r a t i v e . At the time, l i n e was supposed to render what i s perma- anent ( c o l o r what i s f u g i t i v e ) . Monet i s seen as u s i n g l i n e to t h i s purpose, as w e l l as i n an ornamental way, f o r i t s own sake. See a l s o Ch.I, P a r t 2, n.58 f o r s i m i l a r comments on P i s s a r r o , i n La Plume. 79 80 See a l s o , p. Lecomte, L ' A r t Moderne, No.9, p.66. Lecomte exlaimed: Ce ne sont p l u s des s i m p l i f i c a t i o n s de formes, mais b i e n des a b l a t i o n s de formes. Or, de t e l l e s syntheses, d e s t r u c t i v e s du v r a i , de t e l l e s i n t e r - p r e t a t i o n s s i d i s t a n t e s de l a r e a l i t e , ne peuvent p l u s s e d u l r e plastiquement, m§me s i e l l e s a b o u t i - s s e n t a des ensembles harmoniques. See a l s o L ' A r t Moderne, No.9, p.67 81 Lecomte, L'Art Moderne, No.9, pp.66-67. Compare w i t h the tapes t r y - t a b l e a u versus t a p e s t r y - d e c o r a t i o n d i s c u s s i o n (Part 1) . The I d e i s t s to whom Lecomte r e f e r r e d d i d nothing e l s e but f o l l o w the p r i n c i p l e s of d e c o r a t i o n to the l e t t e r , L' A r t Moderne, No, 9., p. 67. I b i d . http://crib.es - 224 - I b i d . 85 In the s e t of r u l e s formulated, by Josgphin (Sar) Peladan on the o c c a s i o n of the f i r s t Salon de l a Rose-Croix i n 1891, the . subject-matter d e a l i n g w i t h the " C a t h o l i c I d e a l " and "Mysticism" occupied the p l a c e of honor, f o l l o w e d by "Legend, Myth, A l l e g o r y , the Dream, the Paraphrase of g r e a t p o e t r y . . . " Peladan a l s o pre- f e r r e d "work which has a m u r a l - l i k e c h a r a c t e r . " (Quoted by Mary Anne Stevens i n Post-Impressionism, C r o s s - C u r r e n t s i n European P a i n t i n g , London, 1979-1980, p.24.) Maurice Denis, the t h e o r e t i c i a n of the Nabis, p r o t e s t e d a g a i n s t Lecomte's a t t a c k : Nous nous Stonnons que des c r i t i q u e s renseignes, comme M. Georges Lecomte (Georges Lecomte: L ' A r t impressionniste,-Revue d e l ' E v o l u t i o n , 15 Mars 1892) se s o i e n t p l u a confondre l e s tendances mystiques e t a l l e g o r i q u e s , c ' e s t - a - d i r e l a r e - cherche de l ' e x p r e s s i o n par l e s u j e t e t l e s tendances s y m b o l l s t e s , c ' e s t - a d i r e l a recherche de l ' e x p r e s s i o n par 1'oeuvre d ' a r t . ( M. Denis, "Le Salon de Champ-de-Mars. L ' E x p o s i t i o n de Renoir," Revue Blanche, 25 June 1892 (signed P i e r r e L. Maud), or M. Denis, T h e o r i e s : 1890-1910, P a r i s : B i b l i o t h e q u e de 1'Occident, 1913, p.17.) Denis i n s i s t e d t h a t i t i s i r r e l e v a n t where the p a i n t e r s f i n d t h e i r m o t i f s , or i f they express r e l i g i o u s emotions i n s t e a d of other emotions. But he acknowledges t h a t there i s a g e n e r a l i n f a t u a t i o n w i t h r e l i g i o u s s u b j e c t s a t the time, a f a d t h a t a c t u a l l y e n t i c e d many a r t i s t s to g i v e a mystic p r e t e x t to t h e i r s t u d i e s done from nature. Lecomte might have been i n f l u e n c e d by P i s s a r r o , who was w e l l aware of the mystic tendencies, "the b u s t l i n g of r e l i g i o u s s y m b o l i s t s , r e l i g i o u s s o c i a l i s t s , i d e a l i s t a r t , o c c u l t i s m , Buddhism, e t c . , e t c . " claimed t h a t "Gauguin has sensed the tendency." ( C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o , l e t t e r of 13 May 1891, L e t t e r s to h i s son L u c i e n , N.Y., 1972, p.171.) In an e a r l i e r l e t t e r ( A p r i l 20, 1891), i n which he c r i t i c i z e d A u r i e r ' s a r t i c l e on Gauguin, he wrote: Gauguin i s not a seer, he Is a schemer who has sensed t h a t the b o u r g e o i s i e are moving to the r i g h t . . . - The s y m b o l i s t s a l s o take t h i s line.' What do you t h i n k ? They must be fought l i k e the p e s t ! 86 I want to p o i n t out t h a t I do not understand by "Natura- l i s m " simply n a t u r a l i s t i c , trompe-1'oeil, photographic rendering, coupled with a r e a l i s t s u b j e c t - m a t t e r . T h i s was the "Salon N a t u r a l i s m . " I t goes without s a y i n g t h a t such n a t u r a l i s m i s i n c o m p a t i b l e with the p r i n c i p l e s of " t r u e " d e c o r a t i o n . I am not r e f e r r i n g to J u l e s Antoine Castagnary's d e f i n i t i o n of naturalism, which, was q u i t e encompassing C i n c l u d e d Velasquez, Zurbaran, Ribera, T i t i a n , Veronese), and d i d not r e f e r to any s c h o o l i n p a r t i c u l a r . CSee J.A. Castagnary, "186 8; N a t u r a l i s m F u r t h e r Defined," i n L. N o c h l l n , 'Realism and T r a d i t i o n i n A r t , 1848-1900, P r e n t i c e - H a l l , 1966, pp.66-68.) In f a c t , i n some r e s p e c t s , s i n c e Castagnary allowed f o r " i n v e n t i o n " and "composition" - 225 - ( p r o v i d e d t h a t i t was concealed)., he was d e p a r t i n g from the p o s i t i v i s t , empirical method of d i r e c t o b s e r v a t i o n , ..' But .this p o s i t i v i s m and e m p i r i c i s m c o n s t i t u t e d the main i n g r e d i e n t s of Z o l a ' s N a t u r a l i s m (.Zola, was a f o l l o w e r of Taine)., which d i d not a l l o w f o r "composition," v o l u n t a r y , conceptual, a l t e r a t i o n s of the observed r e a l i t y . I t was a g a i n s t t h i s N a t u r a l i s m (which was a movement) t h a t c r i t i c s l i k e A u r i e r Cwho s p e c i f i c a l l y r e - f e r r e d to Z o l a and Taine) and the Symbolists i n g e n e r a l r e a c t e d . T h i s N a t u r a l i s m d i d not even c a l l f o r n a t u r a l i s t i c r e p r e s e n t - a t i o n , but i t s p h i l o s o p h y was a l s o i n c o m p a t i b l e w i t h d e c o r a t i o n , and with the concept of " d e c o r a t i v e " d e f i n e d i n an i d e a l i s t framework. 8 7 N e i t h e r Monet nor Renoir were w i l l i n g to g i v e up the independent s t a t u s of p a i n t i n g , y e t l i k e a l l I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , from the s t a r t they intended t h e i r p a i n t i n g s to serve a d u a l purpose: as tableaux and as d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g s . ( See a l s o n.73 and l a t e r , n.143.) As tableaux, t h e i r p a i n t i n g s had a chance of being e x h i b i t e d a t the Salon. As d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g s they c o u l d decorate the homes of an e l i t e of amateurs (mostly bourgeois) a b l e to a p p r e c i a t e an a r t t h a t shocked the crowds a t the Salon. They were not however w i l l i n g to accept the p r i n - c i p l e s of " t r u e d e c o r a t i o n , " even when they d i d not care much about p r e s e r v i n g the " N a t u r a l i s t image," because they were not w i l l i n g to accept the l e a d ' o f a r c h i t e c t u r e . In the 1870s, Renoir had a l r e a d y expressed i n t e r e s t i n monumental d e c o r a t i o n , but he i s the t y p i c a l example of the p a i n t e r who would r a t h e r see the a r c h i t e c t u r a l c o n s t r u c t i o n o n l y as a c o n t a i n e r f o r h i s p a i n t e d work. He thought t h a t D e l a c r o i x ' p a i n t i n g s i n the chapel of S a i n t - S u l p i c e : "sont l'oeuvre c a p i t a l e , l a C h a p e l l e n' e s t que l e p r e t e x t e a f a i r e de l ' a r t . " ( P i e r r e Auguste Renoir, " L ' A r t d e c o r a t i f . e t contemporain," L ' I m p r e s s i o n n i s t e , no.4, 28 A p r i l , 1877, reproduced i n L. V e n t u r i , Les A r c h i v e s de L'Impress- i o n n i s te , 1939, p.326.) While c r i t i c i z i n g contemporary monu- mental d e c o r a t i o n as being nothing e l s e than l a r g e s c a l e acade- mic tableaux, nowhere d i d he mention the subservience of the p a i n t i n g to the s u r f a c e t h a t i s supposed to decorate. Renoir was i n t e r e s t e d i n the harmony of the ensemble o n l y i n terms of c o l o r and mood, and d e f i n e d p a i n t e d d e c o r a t i o n o n l y i n terms of c o l o r i s t i c e f f e c t : L'oeuvre p e i n t e dans l a d e c o r a t i o n n'a de v a l e u r que parce q u ' e l l e e s t polychrome; p l u s l e s tons s e r o n t v a r i e s dans l e u r harmonie, p l u s une p e i n t u r e s e r a d e c o r a t i v e . (Ibid) Renoir expressed the o p i n i o n t h a t the p a i n t e r s , not the a r c h i t e c t s , should be i n charge of the monuments i n c o n s t r u c t i o n . ( I b i d . , p.329) As I a l r e a d y p o i n t e d out, Monet's intended "dec- o r a t i o n s " were no d i f f e r e n t from h i s s m a l l s c a l e d e c o r a t i v e tableaux, and l a t e r he demonstrated t h a t he shared Renoir's o p i n i o n on r e v e r s i n g the r o l e s of a r c h i t e c t and p a i n t e r : , an a r c h i t e c t u r a l s t r u c t u r e was b u i l t f o r h i s monumental" Nympheas d e c o r a t i o n s , not the other way around. See a l s o n,73 and n.74, above. For example C a r r i e r e , an a r t i s t concerned w i t h the s o c i a l r o l e of a r t , who was a l s o r e a c t i n g a g a i n s t N a t u r a l i s m , d i d - 226 - not choose the same path, as the Pont Ay en or Nabf groups to ex- p r e s s t h i s r e a c t i o n . He d i d not want h i s p a i n t i n g to. he under- stood o n l y by a few,.therefore he d i d not eschew the n a r r a t i v e , the- " l i t e r a t u r e " i n p a i n t i n g as a Ttieans of e x p r e s s i o n . I t i s n o t . t h a t C a r r i e r e , who begun h i s a r t i s t i c c a r e e r as a l i t h o - grapher, b e l i e v e d l e s s than A u r i e r i n the r o l e of a r t to decorate our "banal w a l l s " Che a c t u a l l y was one of the f i r s t to be p r e - occupied w i t h the ornamental r o l e of l i n e i n p a i n t i n g ) , but he a l s o b e l i e v e d i n the s p e c i a l s t a t u s of p a i n t i n g and i n the t a b l e a u :. A r t i s t s C l i k e C a r r i e r e ) and c r i t i c s C I ike Geffroy) who were v e r y much concerned with the r o l e of a r t i n s o c i e t y were w e l l aware t h a t only mass produced d e c o r a t i v e a r t s c o u l d e m b e l l i s h the w a l l s of o r d i n a r y people. 89 90 91 See a l s o Ch.I, P a r t 1, n.45. . See a l s o Ch.I, P a r t 1, pp.17-18 and Ch.II, P a r t 2,n.49 Ch. Blanc, "Salon de 1866," Gaz. des Beaux-Arts, S e r . l , Vol.20, 1866, p.500. ' , ~ ' 92 93 See a l s o Ch.I, P a r t 1, pp v4 6~ 47 • and p.. 50. See f o r example Zola's "Salons" of 1879, 1880, and es- p e c i a l l y of 1896 (. Emile Z o la, Le bon combat. De Courbet aux I m p r e s s i o n i s t e s , ed. J-P. B o u i l l o n , Hermann, 1974, pp.205-6 and 264, i n p a r t i c u l a r ) . 94 I f the a r t i s t s ' patrons, the amateurs of a r t , thought t h a t " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" was supposed to emphasize now a l s o l i n e , S t y l e , composition, not o n l y the " m a t e r i a l i s t i c " aspects of p a i n - t i n g (they were i n f l u e n c e d i n t h i s by avant-garde as w e l l as " o f f i c i a l " c r i t i c s , a l s o o f t e n they were the c r i t i c s ) , a r t i s t s who d i d not comply with the l a t e s t trend, w i t h what was c o n s i d - ered "modernity" a t the time, r i s k e d to l o s e t h e i r patrons and t h e i r d e a l e r s , as w e l l as t h e i r s t a t u s . The avant-garde " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" of the e a r l y 1890s was a n t i - N a t u r a l i s t . 95 Even a r t i s t s l i k e Bernard and S e r u s i e r , adopted i n the e a r l y 1890s the " t a p e s t r y - l o o k , " probably because they became s e n s i t i v e to the c r i t i c i s m concerning the l a c k of "Western t r a d i t i o n " i n t h e i r works ( see f o r example A. Germain's c r i t i - cism i n La Plume of 1891). In f a c t , Bernard, as we s h a l l see l a t e r , w i l l j o i n Peladan and h i s c i r c l e i n 1891. In any event, the f l a t p a i n t i n g (lack of depth, as w e l l as f l a t t i n t s , l a c k of modelling) was to be i n t e r p r e t e d as an i d e a l i s t statement o n l y u n t i l the mid-1890s, as I w i l l d i s c u s s i t i n the next s e c t i o n . 96 V i n c e n t van Gogh, l e t t e r ho,512, to h i s b r o t h e r Theo, The Complete •Letters' of V i n c e n t van' Gogh, Greenwich, Conn., 1959, Vol.11, p.617. 9 7 See C. P i s s a r r o , l e t t e r of 14 May 1887, L e t t e r s to h i s son L u c i e n , p.107. In a l e t t e r of 20 October 1892 C o p . c i t . , - 227 - p.204, or i n the French ed., A l b i n M i c h e l , 1950, p.294), he f l a t l y d e c l a r e d : "Le 'tableau - d e c o r a t i o n e s t absurde." 98 .A.M. Hammacher, i n "The Changing Values of Light-Space- Form between 1876 and 1890," Problems o f the 19th and 20th C e n t u r i e s S t u d i e s i n Western A r t , Acts of the XX i n t e r n a t i o n a l Congress o f the H i s t o r y of A r t , IV, P r i n c e t o n , 1963, p.105, s t r e s s e d the e x i s t e n c e of the two "non-academic" c u r r e n t s a t the time. He p o i n t e d out t h a t i f one does not o v e r s t r e s s the importance of Impressionism i n the 19th c , "The i d e a of d i s - c o n t i n u i t y i n the development of a r t i n the second h a l f of the century d i s a p p e a r s . " So does the i d e a of a " r e a c t i o n " a g a i n s t Impressionism, a c c o r d i n g to him. ; A c c o r d i n g to Maurice Denis, P u v i s ' p a i n t i n g was " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake." A l r e a d y i n 1890 when he f i r s t formulated h i s well-known d e f i n i t i o n of a p a i n t i n g , Denis s t r e s s e d the s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y of l i n e s and c o l o r s , the formal elements. T a l k i n g about P u v i s ' Hemicycle a t the Sorbonne, "which f o r the v u l g a r .[my u n d e r l i n i n g ] n e c e s s i t a t e s a w r i t t e n e x p l a n t i o n , " he s a i d : C'est une b e l l e forme, esthetes.' n'est-ce pas? E t l a profondeur de notre emotion v i e n t de l a s u f f i s a n c e de ces l i g n e s e f de ces c o u l e u r s a s ' e x p l i q u e r elles-m§mes, comme seulement b e l l e s e t d i v i n e s de beaute. ( Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.9.) 99 See Aimee Brown P r i c e , "The D e c o r a t i v e A e s t h e t i c i n the Work of P i e r r e Puvis de Chavannes," i n Puvis de Chavannes (1824- 1898), The N a t i o n a l G a l l e r y of Canada, Ottawa, 1977, pp.21-26. Puvis d i d t h i s a t a time when e a s e l p a i n t i n g and decora- t i v e p a i n t i n g (mural d e c o r a t i o n s ) obeyed two separate s e t s of laws, as was shown In P a r t 1. P i s s a r r o ' s r e a c t i o n , as l a t e as 1895, was t h a t P u v i s ' p a i n t i n g s c o u l d not be c o n s i d e r e d as i n - dependent p a i n t i n g s : "On a g r e a t stone w a l l i t i s admirable... but i t i s not p a i n t i n g , " t h e r e f o r e they should not be e x h i b i t e d as such. ( C. P i s s a r r o , l e t t e r of 21 Nov. 1895, L e t t e r s , p.275.) P i s s a r r o ' s r e a c t i o n was s i m i l a r to Ch. Blanc's almost t h i r t y years e a r l i e r . X ^ Paul F l a t , "La p e i n t u r e . Au Salon de Champ-de-Mars," L ' A r t i s t e , Vol.5, 1893, p.415. See A u r i e r , "Le Symbolisme en p e i n t u r e , " 1891, p.165. 102 Jacques D a u r e l l e , "Chez l e s jeunes p e i n t r e s , " L'Echo de P a r i s , 28 Dec. 1891. 103 I b i d . Only a year e a r l i e r Denis p u b l i s h e d h i s by now famous (used and misused) d e f i n i t i o n of a p a i n t i n g ( i n t h i s g e n e r a l sense one should i n t e r p r e t h i s use of the word t a b l e a u ) : Se r a p p e l e r qu'un•tableau- avant d'§tre un c h e v a l de b a t a i l l e , une femme nue, ou une q u e l - quonque anecdote- e s t e s s e n t i e l l e m e n t une s u r f a c e plane r e c o u v e r t e de c o u l e u r s en un c e r t a i n ordre assemblies. ( S i g h e d - P i e r r e L o u i s , " D e f i n i t i o n du Neo-Traditionnisme," A r t - 228 - e t c r i t i q u e , 23 Aug. 1890; r e p r i n t e d i n T h e o r i e s , 1913, p . l . ) T h i s d e f i n i t i o n , together w i t h the d e c l a r a t i o n from L'Echo, r e - p r e s e n t a h y b r i d of Charles Blanc's d e f i n i t i o n of p a i n t i n g (. t h i s c o n n e c t i o n was a l r e a d y made by H.B. Chipp, T h e o r i e s o f Modern A r t , Univ. C a l i f . , 1973, p. 9 4:;-';.;hev wrongly t r a n s l a t e d the c r u c i a l e x p r e s s i o n s u r f a c e unie, as " s i n g l e s u r f a c e . " ) , with i d e a l i s t and f o r m a l i s t overtones, and V i o l l e t - l e - D u c ' s comments on Medieval p a i n t i n g (which was ornamental i n i t s f u n c t i o n ) . Ch. Blanc d e f i n e d p a i n t i n g (Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , 4th ed., 1882, p.480): La p e i n t u r e e s t l ' a r t d'exprimer toutes l e s conceptions de l'ame au moyen de toutes l e s r e a l i t e s de l a nature, representees sur une s u r f a c e unie dans l e u r s formes e t dans l e u r s c o u l e u r s . V i o l l e t - l e - D u c s a i d ( D i c t i o n n a i r e raisonne de 1 ' a r c h i t e c t u r e f r a n g a i s e , x l e - x v i e s i e c l e s , Vol.7, p.62), Ce n ' e t a i t done pas sans r a i s o n que l e s p e i n t r e s du moyen Sge v o y a i e n t dans l a p e i n t r e , s o i t qu' e l l e f i g u r S t des scenes, s o i t q u ' e l l e ne se com- pos§t que d'ornements, une s u r f a c e q u i d e v a i t t o u j o u r s p a r a i t r e plane, s o l i d e , q u i e t a i t d e s t i n e e non a p r o d u i r e une i l l u s i o n , mais une harmonie. P i e r r e Bonnard expressed i n L'Echo of 1891 an o p i n i o n s i m i l a r to Denis': La p e i n t u r e , nous d i t , d ' a i l l e u r s , M. P i e r r e Bonnard, d o i t @tre s u r t o u t d e c o r a t i v e . Le t a l e n t se r e v e l e r a dans l a fagon dont l e s l i g n e s s e r o n t disposees (Nota bene the emphasis on the l i n e s . ) 104 Dom W. Verkade, Le tourment de Dieu, etapes d'un moine p e i n t r e , P a r i s , 1923, p.94, quoted i n R o s e l i n e Bacou, "Decors d*appartements au temps des Nabis," A r t de France, Vol.IV, 1964, p.190. 1 0 5 See M. Denis, "A propos de 1 ' e x p o s i t i o n d'A.Seguin," T h e o r i e s , p.23 ( r e p r i n t e d from La Plume, March 1, 1895). Denis wrote: ~~ E t comme i l f a l l a i t que l a r e a c t i o n f u t v i o l e n t e contre l'ambiance n a t u r a l i s t e , ces jeunes p e i n t r e s e n t r e p r i r e n t de t o u t recommencer. l i s penserent ramener l ' A r t a l a simplesse de son debut, a l o r s que sa d e s t i n a t i o n d e c o r a t i v e e t a i t encore i n c o n t e s t e e . As I mentioned b e f o r e , Denis r e a c t e d e s p e c i a l l y a g a i n s t the academic n a t u r a l i s m , of the type he had to absorb a t the Academie J u l i a n . 106 Naturism was however i n the p e c u l i a r p o s i t i o n of having something to o f f e r to both "enemy camps," thus a t t r a c t i n g sym- p a t h i s e r s among Dreyfusards, R a d i c a l s or even S o c i a l i s t s , as w e l l as among C a t h o l i c r e a c t i o n a r i e s of the Right, such as C h a r l e s Maurras or Joachim Gasquet. The e x p l a n a t i o n r e s i d e s probably i n the f a c t t h a t Naturism was not only an a e s t h e t i c movement per se. I t was a g a i n s t the " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" - 229 - dictum, as Le Blond made c l e a r i n h i s E s s a i sur l e naturisme of 1 8 g 6 : Dans l ' e t r e i n t e u n i v e r s e l l e , nour voulons r e j e u n i r notre i n d i v i d u . Nous revenons vers l a Nature. Nous recherchons 1'emotion saine e t d i v i n e . Nous nous moquons de l ' a r t pour l ' a r t . . . (Quoted i n Marcel Raymond, De B a u d e l a i r e au Surrgalisme, new and r e v i s e d ed., P a r i s : L i b r a i r i e Jose C o r t i , 1966, p.66.) Saint-Georges de B o u h e l i e r ( he and Le Blond were the main p r o t a g o n i s t s of Naturism) d e c l a r e d : "ce qu'on a p e l l e l e naturisme e s t b i e n p l u s une morale qu'une d o c t r i n e d ' a r t . " ( I b i d . , p.67.) Naturism was not o n l y an a e s t h e t i c d o c t r i n e , but a l s o a moral and s o c i a l one. The N a t u r i s t s b e l i e v e d t h a t a r t has a s o c i a l m i s s i o n , but e x a c t l y what t h i s m i s s i o n was, was i n t e r p r e t e d d i f f e r e n t l y by w r i t e r s and a r t i s t s of the l e f t and of the r i g h t . ( See a resume of the main ideas of Le Blond and B o u h e l i e r i n M i c h e l Decaudin, La c r i s e des v a l o u r s s y m b o l i s t e s . V i n g t ans de p o e s i e f r a n g a i s e , 1895-1914, Toulouse: P r i v a t E d i t e u r , 1960, p.65. Decaudin d i s c u s s e s i n d e t a i l the N a t u r i s t movement and i t s consequences i n t h i s book, but he has the tendency to downplay the importance of the Dreyfus A f f a i r . T h i s book i s p a r t i c u l a r l y i l l u m i n a t i n g i n r e s p e c t to r e l a t i o n s h i p between Gide and the N a t u r i s t s . Other books recommended f o r the t o p i c of Naturism (and Romanic School) are the above mentioned one by M. Raymond, as w e l l as Kenneth C o r n e l l , The Symbolist Movement, New Haven: Y a l e Univ. Press, 195.1, r p t . Archon Books, 1970. 10 7 Denis had a long l a s t i n g f r i e n d s h i p w i t h Gide, t h a t began around the time he i l l u s t r a t e d with twenty nine l i t h o - graphs the w r i t e r ' s Voyage d'Urien i n 1893. ;;> Gide, who was a d i s c i p l e of Mallarme (as i s e v i d e n t i n h i s T r a i t e du N a r c i s s e of 1891) i n h i s Voyage d'Urien of 1893 r i d i c u l e d the e x c l u s i v e p r e o c c u p a t i o n of Symbolists w i t h the s p i r i t u a l and metaphysics. During the winter 1894-1895 he worked a t h i s book Les N o u r r i t u r e s T e r r e s t r e s , fragments of which appeared i n the f a l l of 1895 and beginning of 1896 i n L ' A r t jeune and i n L'Ermitage. The book was f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n 189 7 by Mercure de France and "shook Symbolism i n the name of L i f e " (see Auguste Angles, Andre Gide e t l e premier groupe de l a Nouvelie Revue F r a n g a i s e , P a r i s : G a l l i m a r d , 1978, p.327). Gide was not a c t u a l l y a N a t u r i s t ; even though he s e r i o u s l y c o u r t e d them f o r a w h i l e , he d i d not want to be c o n s i d e r e d as one of the N a t u r i s t s , e s p e c i a l l y a f t e r B o u h e l i e r ' s "manifesto" of the N a t u r i s t s c h o o l was p u b l i s h e d i n January 1897 i n the F i g a r o with the help of Z o l a . Yet c r i t i c s p e r s i s t e d i n con- s i d e r i n g Gide a N a t u r i s t , as f o r example Leon Blum who wrote i n h i s column "Les L i v r e s " i n La Revue Blanche: S i l e naturisme, comme je l e c r o i s , n'est qu'une r e v e n d i c a t i o n du d r o i t au l y r i s m e , un r e t o u r aux conceptions l e s p l u s l a r g e s de l a nature e t de l a v i e , e t , par o p p o s i t i o n aux t h e o r i e s i n d i v i d u a l i s t e s ou mystiques, 1 ' a f f i r - mation d'un pantheisme romantique e t c o n c r e t , l e s N o u r r i t u r e s t e r r e s t r e s sont b i e n un l i v r e n a t u r i s t e , e t , quand un j o u r on cherchera l e s - 230 - i n s p i r a t e u r s e t l e s chefs de c e t t e r e n a i - ssance inattendue, i l faudra nommer M. Gide. (L. Blum, "Les L i v r e s . Andre Gide: Les Nourritures T e r r e s t r e s , La Revue Blanche, Vol.13, No.98, J u l y 1, 1897, 0. 78.) In September 189 8 In h i s L e t t r e & Angele, Gide i r r i t a t e d by the so c a l l e d "Jammes a f f a i r e " p r o t e s t e d t h a t " i l l - i n f o r m e d c r i t i c s " i n c l u d e d him i n the N a t u r i s t s c h o o l . For both Gide and M. Denis, 1898 marked the t u r n i n g p o i n t i n t h e i r o r i e n t a t i o n toward c l a s s i c i s m . They were t o - gether i n Rome t h a t year, and Denis, by h i s own admission ( l e t t e r to V u i l l a r d , 22 Feb. 1898, J o u r n a l , I, p.138) found h i s c o n v e r s a t i o n s w i t h Gide "very u s e f u l . " Gide was very much admired by r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s of the M e r i d i o n a l School, such as Emmanuel S i g n o r e t , Edmond Jaloux, or Joachim Gasquet. 10 8 See M. Decaudin, La C r i s e des V a l e u r s Symbolistes, p. 109 Roger Marx, i n "Les Salons de 1895," Gazette des Beaux- A r t s , 3d Ser., Vol.14, 1895, p.22, r e f e r r e d to the young Sym- b o l i s t s as "an a c t i v e ferment of the contemporary a r t , " and d e c l a r e d t h a t they, "do not p r o f e s s the h a t r e d of nature, no more than the p u p i l s of M. Gustave Moreau do;" (Marx mentioned b e f o r e Moreau's p u p i l s , such as f o r example D e s v a l l i e r e s ) . They simply r e f u s e to be " f a c - s i m i l i s t e s , " and, . . . i l s opposent a 1'exactitude e n f a n t i n e des images photographiques, l e s a b r e v i a t i o n s eloquentes des syntheses d e c o r a t i v e s . ...mais, parce que l e p r i n c i p e de l e u r d o c t r i n e l e s a c o n d u i t s aux sources v i v e s de l a t r a d i t i o n medievale, c e r t a i n s i n c l i n e n t a l e s accuser d'archaisme ou meme d'ignorance. ( I b i d . , pp.22-23.) X X ° M. Denis, "A Propos de l ' E x p o s i t i o n d'A. Seguin," T h e o r i e s , p.22 ( f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n La Plume, March 1 s t , 1895. At the b e g i n n i n g of 1895, even the main p r o t a g o n i s t s of Naturism were not completely f r e e of i d e a l i s m ; they were even tempted to choose the name " i d e o - r e a l i s m " (already used by M a u c l a i r and other c r i t i c s ) , i n s t e a d of "Naturism," name adapted o n l y a t the end of 1895. 1 x 1 M. Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.3 3 ( from "Notes sur l a p e i n t u r e r e l i g i e u s e , " L ' A r t e t l a V i e , Oct. 1896). Denis s a i d : J ' a i t o u j o u r s a t t a c h e beaucoup d'importance a l ' i d e e s y m b o l i s t e . C ' e t a i t vraiment une lumiere pour des e s p r i t s navres de n a t u r a l i s m e , e t en m§me temps t r o p e p r i s de p e i n t u r e pour donner dans l e s r e v e r i e s i d e a l i s t e s . . Une f o i s encore e t q u o i q u ' i l se f a s s e un peu' t a r d , dans c e t t e revue p r o p i c e , j ' i n s i s t e sur l e c a r a c t e r e meconnu d'un mouvement c e l e b r e . C e r t e s non ce n ' e t a i t pas une t h e o r i e i d e a l i s t e . 112 I b i d . - 231 - 113 See M. Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.21 (from La Plume, March 1, 1895). Denis d i d not mention Cezanne i n the i n t e r v i e w i n L'Echo of Dec.1891, i n f a c t avoided then i n g i v i n g a s t r a i g h t answer to the q u e s t i o n about the most admired master. In f a c t Denis was not d i r e c t l y influenced by Cezanne i n ' h i s Symbolist p e r i o d , as Gauguin and Bernard were. There are no s i g n s of such i n f l u e n c e i n h i s p a i n t i n g s , nor,does he mention Cezanne i n h i s J o u r n a l or other w r i t i n g s , i n t h a t p e r i o d . He d i d mention Cezanne's name o n l y together w i t h Monet's, Degas', P i s s a r r o ' s and Renoir's, when i n d i c a t e d they were i m i t a t e d a t the Salon de Champ-de-Mars by the young p a i n t e r s . ( See T h e o r i e s , p.15.) 114 See M. Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.28 ( from "Preface de l a I X e E x p o s i t i o n des P e i n t r e s T m p r e s s i o n n i s t e s e t Symbolistes," a t Le Bare de B o u t e v i l l e , i n 1895), and p.23 ( see quote i n n.IQ5, above). 115 T h e o r i e s , p.28. 116 See Andre Gide, Les N o u r r i t u r e s T e r r e s t r e s , 97th ed., L i b r a i r i e G a l l i m a r d , 1937, p.118. 117 A f t e r r e j e c t i n g the concept t h a t a p a i n t i n g i s a "window open to nature" ("qu'un t a b l e a u e s t une f e n i t r e ouverte sur n a t u r e " ) , Denis gave t h i s d e f i n i t i o n : ...un t a b l e a u avant d'etre une r e p r e s e n t a t i o n de quoi que ce s o i t , c ' e s t une s u r f a c e plane r e c o u v e r t e de c o u l e u r s en un c e r t a i n ordre assemblies, e t pour l e p l a i s i r des yeux. (M. Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.26, from "Preface de l a I X e E x p o s i t i o n des P e i n t r e s Impressionhistes e t Symbolistes," a t Bare de B o u t e v i l l e , 1895.) Compare t h i s d e f i n i t i o n w i t h the one g i v e n i n 1890 ( see n.103, above). 118 Mauner c o n s i d e r e d t h a t i n the year 189 5 the Nabis r e - examined t h e i r p r i n c i p l e s ( Denis' w r i t i n g s p r o v i d i n g a proof of t h i s ) , and t h a t a f t e r 189 6 there i s a d e f i n i t e break with Symbolism i n t h e i r a r t . ( See George L. Mauner, The Nabis: T h e i r H i s t o r y and T h e i r A r t , 1888-1896, Garland Publ., 1978, Ch.VITI and Ch.IX.) 119 See Mary Anne Stevens, i n Post-Impressionism..., Royal Acad, exh., London, 19 79, p.14 7. 120 See f o r example M i s i a ( Natanson) au Piano, c.1894, r e - produced i n A. Gold and R. F i z d a l e , M i s i a . The L i f e of M i s i a S e r t , N.Y., 1981. 121 I f there i s symbolism i n the p a i n t i n g s , i t i s expre- ssed now i n the subject-matter, not i n the formal elements, as i t was claimed to be i n the Symbolist p a i n t i n g . I t has been suggested ( See M.A. Stevens, Post-Impressionism, London, 1979, p.148) t h a t V u i l l a r d ' s i n t i m i s t e scenes have an a f f i n i t y w i t h Ibsen's and M a e t e r l i n k ' s p l a y s . 122 See f o r example The B a r r e l Organ Grinder of 1895 (Cat. Post-Impr. No.32), which has some s p a t i a l r e c e s s i o n . Madamme - 232 - V u i l l a r d Sewing a l s o of 1895 (No.237, c o l o r p l a t e on p.110, op. c i t . ) , or even b e t t e r , •Mother and S i s t e r o f the A r t i s t (given as c.1892*;,No.236) by V u i l l a r d , show t h a t h i s space a l s o , w h i l e shallow, i s not completely two-dlmentional (as i t was f o r example i n L i t t l e G i r l s Walking, c.1891.No.233). 123 P. Ranson was born i n Limoges, attended the School of D e c o r a t i v e A r t s there, then t r a n s f e r r e d to the one i n P a r i s i n 1886. He a l s o attended Academie J u l i a n l i k e Denis and S e r u s i e r . His p a i n t i n g Woman Standing Beside a Balustrade--^ w i t h a Poodle (cat. Post-Impr. No.164, c.1895) i s very A r t Nouveau i n s t y l e . Mauner ( The Nabis, p.202) considered, him "the o n l y genuine A r t Nouveau p a i n t e r i n the group." A r t Nouveau ( the i n t e r n a t i o n a l s t y l e t h a t began i n Belgium) was born from the d e s i r e to c r e a t e a modern s t y l e ( as opposed to i m i t a t i o n of o l d e r s t y l e s ) i n the d e c o r a t i v e a r t s and a r c h i t e c t u r e . As a f a i r l y r e c e n t annotated b i b l i o g r a p h y of A r t Nouveau s t a t e s , " P a i n t i n g has l i t t l e to do w i t h A r t Nouveau. What i s o f t e n c a l l e d A r t Nouveau p a i n t i n g i s more a c c u r a t e l y Symbolist p a i n t i n g . " ( see Richard Kempton, A r t Nouveau, Los Angeles, 19 77, p . x v i i . ) 124 Compare f o r example The A n n u n c i a t i o n of 1890 ( see Goldwater, Symbolism, fig.90) w i t h The Sacred Wood of 1893 (Goldwater, f i g . 8 9 ) . Compare a l s o the l a s t one w i t h Procession Under the Trees of 189 2 ( Cat. Post-Impr.No.67, reproduced i n c o l o r op. c i t . , p . 1 0 9 ) . I n the P r o c e s s i o n the l e a v e s ' shadows form an arabesque p a t t e r n , c o n t r a s t i n g w i t h the sober l i n e s of the f i g u r e s gathered i n a r e l i g i o u s p r o c e s s i o n . In the Sacred Wood ( signed, and dated 1893) there i s o n l y a s l i g h t suggestion of something mysterious and s a c r e d . Here the l i n e becomes sensuous because i t o u t l i n e s and emphasized the s e n s u a l i t y of female bodies, m a t e r i a l i t y , not s p i r i t u a l i t y . A u r i e r would not have approved of t h i s p a i n t i n g . T h i s l i n e a l s o l o s t the awk- wardness of the Symbolist e x p r e s s i v e d i s t o r t i o n s . 125 Mauner (. The Nabis, p.122) has suggested t h a t Ranson's three p a i n t i n g s e x h i b i t e d i n 189 3 a t the Antwerp A s s o c i a t i o n popr l ' A r t had a s t r o n g i n f l u e n c e on the development of A r t Nouveau i n Belgium. M.A. Stevens a l s o i m p l i e d t h a t the p a i n t i n g s e x h i b i t e d by French a r t i s t s ( such as Denis) a t the L i b r e E s t h e t i q u e i n B r u s s e l s , had a r o l e to p l a y i n the emer- gence of A r t Nouveau. ( Post-Impressionism, London, 19 79, p.66.) The b i r t h d a y of A r t Nouveau { the i n t e r n a t i o n a l s t y l e which w i l l be known a l s o as " J u g e n d s t l l , " " S t y l e L i b e r t y , " "Modern S t y l e , " etc.) i s c o n s i d e r e d to have occured i n 1893, i n Belgium, w i t h V i c t o r Horta's T a s s e l House i n B r u s s e l s . The n o v e l t y of t h i s " d e c o r a t i v e s t y l e " owes a g r e a t debt to French i n f l u e n c e s . F i r s t of a l l Horta was i n f l u e n c e d by V i o l l e t - l e - Duc ' s work. A l s o , s t y l i s t i c developments of the French avant- garde were a s s i m i l a t e d i n t o A r t Nouveau, an important r o l e i n t h i s process being p l a y e d by the p a r t i c i p a t i o n of French p a i n t e r s a t the e x h i b i t i o n s h e l d by Les XX and La L i b r e E s t h e t i q u e . A r t Nouveau ( e s p e c i a l l y through Van de Velde) was a l s o i n f l u e n c e d by E n g l i s h design and W i l l i a m M o r r i s . - 233 - See Robert Goldwater's d i s c u s s i o n of the d i f f e r e n c e s between Symbolism and A r t Nouveau, i n Symbolism, 1979, pp.17-24 and 69-70. 1 2 7 On V.P. G a l l a n d see Ch.I, P a r t 1, n;.19. Eugene Grasset (1841-1917) was a prominent f i g u r e i n the development of A r t Nouveau. He was i n f l u e n c e d by V i o l l e t - le-Duc, and d e c l a r e d t h a t one should r e t u r n to the Middle Ages, "pas pour l e c o p i e r , mais pour reprendre l e mouvement l a ou l a Renaissance l ' a interrompu." ( Nocq, Tendances N o u v e l l e s , 1896, p.14.) He a l s o s t u d i e d Japanese a r t , and was very i n s i s t e n t on u s i n g ornamental m o t i f s d e r i v e d from nature. Grasset s a i d , On t r o u v e r a dans l a nature tous l e s elements d e ; d e c o r a t i o n qu'on pourra d e s i r e r . La nature, v o i i a l e l i v r e d ' a r t ofnemental q u ' i l f a u t c o n s u l t e r . (Nocq, p.15) In 1896 C a m i l l e M a u c l a i r formulated t h i s " p r i n c i p l e of decora- t i v e a r t , " on which the new "modern s t y l e , taken from the l i f e t h a t surrounds us," was supposed to be based: . . . l a deformation ornamentale des o b j e t s e t des §tres, l'emploi des formes e t des cou- l e u r s a l a composition d'une harmonie ne r e p r e s e n t a n t r i e n , ne donnant pas d'emotion de pensee comme l'oeuvre d ' a r t , mais simple- ment un p l a s i r d'aspect, un contentement e t un accompagnement a 1 ' e s p r i t , toutes ces a n t i q u e s n o t i o n s du t a p i s , de l a robe, de l a t e n t u r e connues s i genialement par l e s brodeuses arabes ou persanes, par l e s a r t i - sans de t a p i s s e r i e de l i c e du moyen §ge, r e n a i s s a i e n t e t s ' a p p r i t a i e n t pour l a decou- v e r t e d'un s t y l e moderne, t i r e de l a v i e q u i nous entoure, e t tuant 1 ' i m i t a t i o n des vieux s t y l e s dont se c o n t e n a i e n t l e s magasins jusqu'alors.90 (. C. M a u c l a i r , " L ' a r t d e c o r a t i f en France," La Nouvelle Revue, Vol.98, Jan.-Feb., 1896, p.736.) T h i s " p r i n c i p l e " makes an i n t e r e s t i n g comparison w i t h Emile Bernard's f o r m u l a t i o n of Symbolism. ( See p.56 ) I t emphasizes o n l y the "ornamental d i s t o r t i o n " ( t h a t which Denis c a l l e d " o b j e c t i v e d i s t o r t i o n " ) , and not the d i s t o r t i o n s a c c o r d i n g to what Idea was to be ex- pressed ("selon ce q u ' i l veut d i r e , " as Bernard s a i d ) . In the same a r t i c l e , M a u c l a i r emphasized c l e a r l y the meaning of t h i s d e c o r a t i v e a r t , which can be p l a c e d i n 180 degrees o p p o s i t i o n to A u r i e r ' s : L ' a r t d e c o r a t i f , c ' e s t un a r t ou l a concep- t i o n i n t e l l e c t u e l l e de l ' a r t i s t e , au l i e u d'exprimer ou de s u s c i t e r une emotion i n t e r - i e u r e , d o i t tendre avant t o u t v e r s une • e x p r e s s i o n v i s i b l e , c ' e s t - a - d i r e beaucoup p l u s semblable a c e l l e des s p e c t a c l e s n a t u r e l s qu'a c e l l e q u i n a i t de l a pensee de l'homme. (. C. M a u c l a i r , o p . c i t . , p.726.) 128 Bing's Maison de l ' A r t Nouveau opened p r a c t i c a l l y sim- u l t a n e o u s l y w i t h a museum ot "new a r t " i n B r u s s e l s , by the - 234 - s o c i e t y of Maison d'Art. ( See C. M a u c l a i r , " L ' a r t d e c o r a t i f en France," pp.740-42 on Bing's e n t r e p r i s e . ) I t h e l d i t s f i r s t e x h i b i t i o n December 1895- January 1896, when Ranson e x h i b i t e d t a p e s t r i e s , Denis a bedroom f o r a young g i r l , V u i l l a r d panels, and Bonnard screens. Many Nabis made designs f o r s t a i n e d g l a s s , which were executed by T i f f a n y i n the United S t a t e s . ( On the Nabis' involvement w i t h Bing's A r t nouveau see a l s o Peter S e l z ed., A r t Nouveau, 1975, p.11, and Mauner, The Nabis, p.176.) H e n r i van de Velde was-also s t r o n g l y i n v o l v e d w i t h Bing's Maison. 1 3 0 C. M a u c l a i r , " L ' A r t d e c o r a t i f en France," 1896, p.730. M a u c l a i r touched upon an important i s s u e here, namely t h a t the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s intended t h e i r works to be seen as deco- r a t i v e p a i n t i n g s . As Levine p o i n t e d out, e a r l y c r i t i c s of Impressionism, i n the e a r l y 1870s, saw t h e i r p a i n t i n g s as deco- r a t i v e ( see Ch.I, P a r t 2, n.73). In the h i s t o r y of the " d e c o r a t i v e r e v o l u t i o n " t h a t M a u c l a i r c o n s i d e r e d as s t a r t e d by the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , he claimed t h a t Degas d i d f o r l i n e what Monet d i d f o r c o l o r : M. Degas f i t pour l e s l i g n e s un t r a v a i l documentaire analogue, en e t a b l i s s a n t des r a p p o r t s d'une s u b t i l i t e i n c r o y a b l e entre l e s l i g n e s mouvantes d'un personnage e t c e l l e s , immuables, du m i l i e u ou i l se meut, ce q u i e s t encore un p r i n c i p e d e c o r a t i f . ( M a u c l a i r , o p . c i t . , p.732.) 131 I b i d . , p.733. From what P i s s a r r o s a i d with regard to the d i s t i n c t i o n he wanted to m a i n t a i n between " d e c o r a t i v e " p a i n t i n g s and " d e c o r a t i o n s " ( see Ch.I, P a r t 2, n.97), i t appears t h a t M a u c l a i r was r i g h t . The c o n f u s i o n i n terminology of which we must be aware i s e v i d e n t i n the d i a l o g u e between two g e n e r a t i o n s of p a i n t e r s , r e p r e s e n t e d by C a m i l l e and L u c i e n P i s s a r r o . They a l s o r e p r e - sented the d i f f e r e n c e between B r i t i s h and French concepts of d e c o r a t i o n a t the.time. L u c i e n understood the " d e c o r a t i v e " i n the sense of " d e c o r a t i o n , " which i n h i s case i m p l i e d a s t y l i - z a t i o n i n s p i r e d by the P r e - R a p h a e l i t e group i n which he was working. He understood the " d e c o r a t i v e " the same way the Sym- b o l i s t s d i d ( even though he admitted to not being "symbolic enough f o r the decadents" — l e t t e r of May 5, 1892, L e t t e r s , p.378). For C a m i l l e , i n p a i n t i n g , " d e c o r a t i v e " meant s t i l l a d e c o r a t i v e , polychrome " e f f e c t , " and " e x t e r n a l " a r t , above a l l , i n the sense Blanc, Chesneau, S i l v e s t r e , understood i t . I t i s not s u r p r i s i n g then t h a t he welcomed the new t w i s t i n the meaning of " d e c o r a t i v e " ( used without a p e j o r a t i v e c o n n o t a t i o n by many i n f l u e n t i a l c r i t i c s now, as opposed to the 1870s) i n the mid-1890s i n France, and even became i n v o l v e d w i t h Bing's Maison de 1'Art Nouveau, to L u c i e n ' s d e s p a i r . In January 1896, L u c i e n wrote to h i s f a t h e r : What are you doing i n t h a t beer-garden? You shouldn't have shown there.'!! Your a r t i s n e i t h e r d e c o r a t i v e nor new. Your presence makes i t look as i f you're running a f t e r "shocking" t h i n g s i n order - 235 - to get n o t i c e d . On February 18, 1895 L u c i a n had w r i t t e n to C a m i l l e : Abroad ( i n Germany, H o l l a n d , Belgium, etc.) they are beginning to abandon the i n f l u e n c e of the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s to l i n e up under the banner of E n g l i s h a r t , e s p e c i a l l y because of i t s d e c o r a t i v e t e n d e n c i e s . C a m i l l e d i d not e x h i b i t a t Bing's o n l y to get a t t e n t i o n ; the A r t Nouveau philosophy, w i t h i t s c a l l f o r i n s p i r a t i o n i n nature and conscious r e v o l t a g a i n s t i m i t a t i o n of o l d s t y l e s appealed to him. At v a r i o u s o c c a s i o n s he expressed the d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with Lucien's Gothic r e v i v a l : I do not doubt t h a t M o r r i s ' books are as b e a u t i f u l as Gothic a r t , but i t must not be f o r g o t t e n t h a t the Gothic a r t i s t s were i n v e n t o r s and t h a t we have to perform, not b e t t e r , which i s i m p o s s i b l e , but d i f f e r e n t l y and f o l l o w i n g our own bent... With t h i s i n view you w i l l have to d i s - regard f r i e n d R i c k e t t s , who i s of course a charming man, but from the p o i n t of view of a r t seems to s t r a y from the t r u e d i r e c - t i o n , which i s the r e t u r n to nature. C L e t t e r of Aug.19, 1898, L e t t e r s , p.329. On May 23, 1895, C. P i s s a r r o had d e c l a r e d t h a t "nature i s our o n l y hope i n order to a r r i v e a t an a r t a t once r e a l and d e c o r a t i v e " - my t r a n s l a t i o n from the French e d i t i o n of L e t t e r s . ) S i m i l a r l y , on A p r i l 26, 1900, C, P i s s a r r o wrote: A c c o r d i n g to y o u , • s a l v a t i o n l i e s w i t h the p r i m i t i v e s , the I t a l i a n s . A c c o r d i n g to me, t h i s i s i n c o r r e c t . S a l v a t i o n l i e s i n nature, now more than ever. On "Bing's e n t r e p r i s e " he had t h i s to say: While I was i n P a r i s t h i s l a s t time, I had an o p p o r t u n i t y to d i s c u s s d e c o r a t i v e a r t w i t h Vandevelde s e v e r a l times. How- ever one may c r i t i c i z e Bing's e n t e r p r i s e , i t has a c e r t a i n value as a p o i n t of departure. ( L e t t e r of Jan.5, 1896, L e t t e r s , p.279) 132 C. M a u c l a i r , " C r i t i q u e de l a p e i n t u r e , " 1895, p.320. M a u c l a i r wrote: Le gofit meme qu'on a des d i v e r s e s matieres va jusqu'a d e s i r e r l e s confondre, l e s i m i t e r l e s unes par l e s a u t r e s . On f a i t c e t eloge d'un t a b l e a u : "C'est un j o l i ton de t a p i s d ' O r i e n t . " On d i t : "Voyez done c e t t e chose a l ' h u i l e , c ' e s t charmant, on j u r e r a i t v o i r un crepon j a p o n a i s e ! " On i m i t e l e l a i n a g e par des empatements r e p r i s avec des martes dures; on i m i t e l e s tons des anciennes t o i l e s a n g l a i s e s , i v o r i n e s e t mordorees, en se s e r v a n t de jaune de Naples au l i e u de - 236 - b l a n c ; on i m i t e l ' h u i l e en peignant a 1 ' a q u a r e l l e sur une t o i l e sans e n d u i t s ; on i m i t e l ' a q u a r e l l e avec l e s v e i n e s d'un panneau de b o i s s p e c i a l ; on i m i t e l e s s e p i a s avec un l a v i s d'encre sur p i e r r e l i t h o g r a p h i q u e ; on i m i t e l a l i t h o g r a p h i e avec l e pyrographe; on i m i t e l ' a q u a t i n t e avec l e v e r n i s mou, on meTe tous l e s moyens, on augments j o u r n e l l e m e n t 1 ' i n t r u - s i o n de l a chimie e t de l ' i n d u s t r i e dans l ' a r t . On tend de p l u s en p l u s , - e t c ' e s t encore un prodrome c e r t a i n de decadence,- a rendre un envoi i n t e r e s s a n t par l e procede. Tout s o l i c i t e l e connaisseur par l a facon dont c ' e s t f a i t . Avant de r e g a r d e r ce que c e l a r e p r e s e n t e , on regarde en quoi c ' e s t , comment c ' e s t obtenu. 133 See A. A u r i e r , "Vincent van Gogh," Oeuvres Posthumes, pp.260-262. In h i s l e t t e r to A u r i e r , Van Gogh expressed h i s i n t e r e s t i n i m i t a t i n g the a s p e c t of the " b e a u t i f u l S c o t t i s h t i s s u e s " ("ces j o l i s t i s s a g e s e c o s s a i s c a r r e l e s v e r t , b l e u , rouge, jaune, n o i r . . . " - l e t t e r reproduced i n Oeuvres Posthumes, p.268). He d i d not however go as f a r as Bonnard and V u i l l a r d i n i m i t a t i n g a checkered p a t t e r n . 134 In the l e t t e r of January 4, 1895, C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o wrote to L u c i e n , i n c o n n e c t i o n w i t h h i s B e l g i a n f r i e n d , Theo van Rysselberghe: I should r e a l l y l i k e to see Theo r i d him- s e l f of these shackles t h a t make h i s p a i n t i n g s c o l d and inanimate, when he has such r e a l t a l e n t as a p a i n t e r and draftsman ...But.I am a f r a i d t h a t h i s f r i e n d s h i p f o r Signac makes him l i g h t - h e a d e d ; i t i s strange t h a t the technique doesn't bother them! The method, as I t o l d him, i s good only f o r mosaics, and thus there would be no reason to s t r i v e f o r modeling, i t would be a p u r e l y d e c o r a t i v e a r t , w i t h what b e a u t i f u l matiere! ( L e t t e r s , p.255.) 135 P. Signac, D'Eugene D e l a c r o i x . . . , 1964, pp.111-112. 136 See M. Decaudin, La C r i s e des V a l e u r s Symbolistes, p.65, f o r the q u o t a t i o n s . I want to emphasize t h a t I w i l l use the term "pure p a i n t i n g " o n l y i n r e f e r e n c e to " p a i n t i n g f o r p a i n t i n g ' s sake" i n the m a t e r i a l i s t i c sense. 137 Denis c o n g r a t u l a t e d h i m s e l f t h a t h i s f r i e n d s h i p w i t h A d r i e n Mithouard and A l b e r t Chapon p r o v i d e d him w i t h a long c o l l a b o r a t i o n a t L'Occident," a revue t h a t r e p l a c e d the a r t s and the l e t t e r s i n the atmosphere of t r a d i t i o n . " ( See T h e o r i e s , p.124, n . l ) . L'Occident was founded i n December 1901 by A. Mithouard, who a l s o had founded Le Spectateur C a t h o l i q u e i n 1897. L i k e Denis, he used to Joe a Symbolist, - 237 - and h i s p o e t r y was a c t u a l l y compared a t the time w i t h Denis' p a i n t i n g . Mithouard was a defender of C a t h o l i c i s m , and as Denis s a i d , together w i t h Barres and Maurras he " c o u n s e l l e d us to look f o r a r u l e i n the p a s t of our r a c e " ( see T h e o r i e s , p.264). Mithouard h i m s e l f d i d not r e s t r i c t t r a d i t i o n s t r i c t l y to a G r e c o - L a t i n c l a s s i c i s m as Denis d i d now, as he was an ardent admirer of the Gothic c a t h e d r a l . For him t h i s c a t h e d r a l was the embodiment of harmony and o r d e r . On the s o c i a l p l a n , as i n a r t , Mithouard d i s t i n g u i s h e d two c a t e g o r i e s : the harmonious and the e x p r e s s i v e . In the Dreyfus A f f a i r e , the a n t i - D r e y f u s a r d s - the p a r t i s a n s of order were the "harmo- nious" ones, the Dreyfusards - obsessed w i t h the i n j u s t i c e , were the " e x p r e s s i v e " ones. ( See Decaudin, La c r i s e des v a l e u r s s y m b o l i s t e s , p.147). In May.1905, Denis p u b l i s h e d i n L'Ermitage the a r t i c l e "La r e a c t i o n n a t i o n a l i s t e , " d e d i c a t e d to h i s f r i e n d Mithouard, "who had the boldness to found L'Occident d u r i n g the f u l l - f l e d g e d D r e y f u s i s t c r i s i s . " ( Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.181.) In t h i s a r t i c l e Denis r e a c t e d a g a i n s t M a u c l a i r , who c r i t i c i z e d N e o - C l a s s i c i s m and the " N a t i o n a l i s t i c P e r i l , " a c c u s i n g t h e i r exponents of being r e a c t i o n a r y and r e t r o g r a d e . Denis exclamed: N a t i o n a l i s t e s , ceux q u i v e u l e n t que c e t enseignement s'appuie s u r t o u t sur l e v i e u x fond n a t i o n a l , developpe l e s q u a l i t e s f r a n c h i s e s de gout, de c l a r t e e t de mesure, e t nous f a s s e r e t r o u v e r aupres des s t a t u e s de C h a r t r e s ou des tableaux de Poussin, c e t t e c o n c i l i a t i o n q u i f u t chez nous, a nos bonnes epoques, i n s t i n c t i v e e n t r e l a nature e t l ' i d e e . (Theories, p.18 4.) He a l s o added (p.186): I I e s t n a t u r a l que des p e i n t r e s q u i ont du gout de l a beaute d e c o r a t i v e e t un c e r t a i n i d e a l de p e r f e c t i o n , en v i e n n e n t a demander aux chefs-d'oeuvre du Louvre 1 ' e x c i t a t i o n que l e s s p e c t a c l e s de l a v i e ne l e u r donnent p l u s . 138 "Order" becomes a key word f o r Denis. ( See f o r example T h e o r i e s , p.191 and 25 8.) Commenting on the f a c t t h a t the p a r t i s a n s of "pure p a i n t i n g , " a c c o r d i n g to him, took from Cezanne, and " g l o r i f i e d " h i s "negligences and i m p e r f e c t i o n s , " he s a i d ( T h e o r i e s , p.247): Essayons d'echapper aux prejuges qu'engen- d r e n t l e dreyfusisme e t l a neurasthenie; ne soyons pas dupes de 1 ' e s p r i t de para- doxe, de desordre e t de s u b t i l i t e . Le f a i t e s t qu'on juge avec mepris une oeuvre d'ex- e c u t i o n p a t i e n t e ; on n'admire p l u s que l e s ebauches e t c e l l e s - l a s u r t o u t dont 1'inven- t i o n sommaire e t l a f a c t u r e r a p i d e i m p l i q u e n t une s o r t e de n i h i l i s m e d ' a r t : c ' e s t l a super- s t i t i o n de l ' i n a c h e v e . The c o n n e c t i o n made by Denis between "pure p a i n t i n g " and "an- archy" was commonplace among the p a r t i s a n s of c l a s s i c i s m . - 238 - ( See f o r example F r . Monod, "Le Salon d'Autpmne," A r t e t Decoration, Vol.18, 1905, pp.189-99.) Emile Bernard h e l d s i m i - l a r views, as w i l l be d i s c u s s e d l a t e r , i n Ch.II, P a r t 1. 139 See Denis,, l e t t e r to V u i l l a r d , 22 Feb.1898, J o u r n a l , Vol.1, pp.139-140, and Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.86 ( f r o m "Les e l e v e s d'Ingres," L'Occident, 1902). 140 As Marcel Raymond r e l a t e s (From B a u d e l a i r e to S u r r e a l i s m e , t r a n s l . from the French, London, 1961, p.53), Charles Maurras c r i t i c i z e d the w r i t e r s f o r " t r a c i n g the con- tours of every t i n y s e n s a t i o n , " f o r renoucing " s t y l e , " f o r not imposing "order" on t h e i r i d e a s . He emphasized "harmony, form, s t y l e . " He c r i t i c i z e d Romanticists and Symbolists a l i k e , f o r being content o n l y with "expressing themselves," but l a c k i n g the knowledge "how to compose works." Denis a l s o c r i t i c i z e d Symbolists' p r e o c c u p a t i o n with the " e x p r e s s i o n of o n e s e l f , " and l a c k of r e a l knowledge of com- p o s i t i o n . He was even harsher then ( l e t t e r to V u i l l a r d , 1898, J o u r n a l , Vol.1, p.140) with the Symbolists than toward the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , because he thought t h e i r "stenography of d a i l y s e n s a t i o n s " was even more r a p i d than of the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s . See a l s o T h e o r i e s , p.51 ( from "Les A r t s a Rome ou l a Methode C l a s s i q u e , " Le Spectateur C a t h o l i q u e , Nos.22,. 24, 1898, wrongly l i s t e d as 1896 i n Theories) and J o u r n a l , Vol.1, p.120 ( e n t r y f o r Sept. 1897) . L a t e r Denis w i l l t r y to connect Symbolism w i t h C l a s s i c i s m . 141 Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.27. Denis d i d not a c t u a l l y name the l i t t e r a t e u r s to whom he r e f e r r e d , n e i t h e r d i d he name those who "are i n v o k i n g the Laws of nature and the Norm of Harmony" ( T h e o r i e s , p.21). T h i s was however the language used by Moreas now, as w e l l as by Alphonse Germain ( who d i d c r i t i c i z e the Nabis' d i s t o r t i o n s , and was a supporter of Rose-Croix and of c l a s s i c i s t t r a d i t i o n - see the quotes i n Post-Impressionism, London, 1979, pp.24 and 49). Germain was the one who advocated "to chose b e a u t i f u l l i n e s and b e a u t i f u l forms a c c o r d i n g to the laws of nature," and to cover the w a l l s w i t h f r e s c o e s which f e a t u r e d "harmonious p a t t e r n of c o l o u r bounded by the know- ledgeable l i n e s of the masters!" Denis d i d not want to e x h i b i t w i t h Rose-Croix ( as Bernard and F i l i g e r did) i n the e a r l y 1890s. In some r e s p e c t the a t t a c k s of the N a t u r i s t s and of the C l a s s i c i s t s on Symbolism were s i m i l a r , because both groups wanted a c l o s e r r e l a t i o n s h i p between A r t and Nature, and con- demned Symbolist " d i s t o r t i o n s . " 1 4 2 See Denis' l e t t e r to V u i l l a r d , of 22 Feb. 1898, J o u r n a l , Vol.1, p.139. Denis seemed to have f o r g o t t e n t h a t . i n 1895 he a l s o favoured "sensualism." 143 Denis d i d w r i t e i n June 1892 an a r t i c l e i n the Revue Blanche, which he signed P i e r r e L. Maud ( see T h e o r i e s , pp.14- 2Q) i n which he p r o t e s t e d Lecomte's c r i t i c i s m of the Symbolists. - 239 - 144 T h e o r i e s , p. 28 (.from "Preface de l a I X e e x p o s i t i o n des p e i n t r e s I m p r e s s i o n n i s t e s e t Symbolistes," 1895). 1 4 5 Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.84 ( 1901). 146 Denis complained t h a t a t the Salon of the S o c i e t e des A r t i s t e s F r a n c a i s he "met" J u l i a n ( of Academy J u l i a n ) i n s t e a d of Ingres. The academies, a c c o r d i n g to Denis ( who s t u d i e d a t J u l i a n ' s ) , taught "Bastien-Lepage or the Empiricism." ( See T h e o r i e s , pp.83 and 86.) Denis, u n l i k e Gauguin, d i d t a l k about " S t y l e " only a f t e r h i s c o n v e r s i o n to N e o - C l a s s i c i s m , and c r i t i c i z e d Nabis' Symbolism f o r l a c k of s u f f i c i e n t r e f l e c t i o n and method. His c r i t i c i s m of the Nabis i s i l l u m i n a t i n g , because i t i n d i c a t e s t h a t i n many r e s p e c t s t h e i r Symbolism was s i m i l a r to Impressio- nism: to r e c o r d a f l e e t i n g s e n s a t i o n : only the nature of t h i s s e n s a t i o n was d i f f e r e n t , due to d i f f e r e n t p h i l o s o p h i e s . A l s o , the main instrument i n w r i t i n g down these "emotive s t a t e s , " i n the Nabis' case was t h e . " l i n e . " Denis d i d admit l a t e r t h a t Gauguin's Symbolism was more connected with C l a s s i c i s m , and l e s s s u b j e c t i v e . ( See T h e o r i e s , pp.166, 263, 258.) 147 Denis w i l l w r i t e i n 1905 i n L'Ermitage: "Mais pourquoi l ' i d e a l i s m e a - t - i l cesse d ' e t r e p o s i t i f , de s'appuyer sur des r e a l i t e s ? " ( T h e o r i e s , p.183.) In 1909 he wrote: Langage de l'homme, signe de l ' i d e e , l ' a r t ne peut pas ne pas §tre i d e a l i s t e . Toute c o n f u s i o n sur ce p o i n t e s t , esperons- l e , d e f i n i t i v e m e n t e c a r t e e . ( T h e o r i e s , p.2 68, from "De Gauguin e t de Van Gogh au C l a s s i c i s m e , " L'Occident, May 1909.) 148 As i t appears from h i s l e t t e r s to Denis ( see Denis, J o u r n a l , V o l . 1, p.138, f o r example), V u i l l a r d p r e f e r r e d vinin- volvement. The avant-garde as a whole adopted an " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" p o l i c y , which meant keeping a r t "pure," without i n v o l v e - ment with moral or p o l i t i c a l i s s u e s , as w e l l as without " l i t e r a - t u r e . " Even those a r t i s t s concerned, w i t h s o c i a l i s s u e s , d i d not openly use t h e i r " A r t , " t h a t i s p a i n t i n g , as a means of f i g h t i n g i n j u s t i c e . For example P i s s a r r o d i d not p a i n t h i s T u r p i t u d e s S o c i a l e s . M a x i m i l l i e n Luce might be c o n s i d e r e d an e x c e p t i o n , but t h i s i s because he came from a working c l a s s back- ground. At the most, they choose subject-matter such as "Stevedores" ( as V u i l l a r d d i d i n the e a r l y 1890s), but without making any statement on the working c o n d i t i o n s , or other prob- lems. In V u i l l a r d ' s p a i n t i n g the emphasis i s on the Neo- Impressionis t "dots" used i n a more o v e r t l y d e c o r a t i v e manner, human f i g u r e s are f l a t and f a c e l e s s ( see the c o l o r p l a t e i n Post-Impressionism, London, 1879, p. 109).. 149 See Denis, T h e o r i e s , p.261. On "temperament" and i t s p h y s i o l o g i c a l nature, see a l s o Ch.II, P a r t 2, n.28. "Tempera- ment" does not account f o r " v o l u n t a r y , " d e l i b e r a t e , c o n c e p t u a l aspects of p a i n t i n g , a c c o r d i n g to the i d e a l i s t - o r i e n t e d c r i t i c s . "Pure p a i n t i n g " upholds the " d e c o r a t i v e tendency," but - 240 - e v e n t u a l l y gains "independence" and s e l f - s u f f i c e n c y ( concern w i t h the s u r f a c e of the p a i n t i n g , not of the w a l l , as we can see a l r e a d y i n C a r l o s de Castera's comments on Cezanne i n 1904 - see Ch.II, P a r t 1, p.114). Thus the s t a t u s of " d e c o r a t i o n " w i l l be dropped. - 241 - C h a p t e r I I , P a r t 1. M. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 165. Among the "gens.du monde" we s h o u l d count o f c o u r s e , the amateurs o f a r t , the c o n n o i s s e u r s , the main p a t r o n s o f t h e avant-garde a r t i s t s . The word " d e c o r a t i v e " l o s t i t s p e j o r a t i v e c o n n o t a t i o n and g a i n e d r e s p e c t a b i l i t y , when a s s o c i a t e d w i t h c l a s s i c i s m , r e a s o n , i d e a l i s m . But even when r e v e r t e d t o i t s " m a t e r i a l i s - t i c , " s e n s u a l i s t i c , meaning by l a t e 1890s, i t was s t i l l a most d e s i r a b l e q u a l i t y i n a work o f a r t , a c c o r d i n g t o amateurs, c r i t i c s , and a v a n t - g a r d e a r t i s t s . 2 F o r example, Alphonse Germain ( " T h e o r i e des Dgforma- t e u r s , " La Plume, 1 Sept. 1891, p. 290) d e c l a r e d t h a t "Cezanne p e i n a en d y s p h o f i e n , " and t h a t Cezanne, Gauguin and Van Gogh were "temperaments i n t e n s i f s , mais d e s i q u i l i b r e s e t n u l l e m e n t l a t i n s . " He r e p r o a c h e d E m i l e B e r n a r d and t h e N a b i s t h e i r " d i s t o r t i o n s " i n s p i r e d by t h e s e o l d e r a r t i s t s , whom he c o n s i d e r e d as s u f f e r i n g from v a r i o u s m a l a d i e s . 3 W h i l e a N a t u r a l i s t b e l o n g i n g i n Z o l a ' s group, Huysmans d e s c r i b e d t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s as m e d i c a l cases ( see J.K. Huysmans, " L 1 . E x p o s i t i o n des Independants en 1880, " L ' A r t Moderne, P a r i s : C h a r p e n t i e r , 1883, pp. 103-104.) I n h i s l e t t e r t o P i s s a r r o i n 1883 he s p e c i f i c a l l y r e f e r r e d t o Cezanne as an "eye c a s e " and c o n s i d e r e d h i s works more a p p r o p r i a t e f o r a m e d i c a l museum t h a n any o t h e r ( see J . Rewald, H i s t o r y o f I m p r e s s i o n i s m , 4 t h ed., New York: M.O.M.A., 1973, p. 474.) Even a f t e r h i s d e f e c t i o n from t h e N a t u r a l i s t camp, when he came t o a p p r e c i a t e Cezanne, he s t i l l s a i d t h e a r t i s t had " d i s e a s e d r e t i n a s " ( see J.K. Huysmans, " P a u l Cezanne," La Plume, No. 57, 1 Sept. 1891, p. 301), b u t i m p l i e d t h i s d e f e c t l e d him t o the d i s c o v e r y o f a "new a r t . " I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g t o note t h a t Huysmans compared t h e f r u i t i n Cezanne's s t i l l l i f e s w i t h the c e r a m i c f r u i t e x h i b i t e d by C h e r e t : "des f r u i t s d e s t i n e s aux v i t r i n e s des C h e r e t . " ( J.K. Huysmans, " P a u l Cezanne," La Plume, No. 57, 1 Sept. 1891, p. 301.) J . C h e r e t , who was known e s p e c i a l l y f o r h i s p o s t e r s , p r o v i d e d a l s o models f o r c e r a m i c s made w i t h new p a s t e s and g l a z e s a t S e v r e s . ( See f o r example Ph. Garner ed., The E n c y c l o p e d i a o f D e c o r a t i v e A r t s , 1890-1940, New York: Van N o s t r a n d R e i n h o l d Comp., 1978, p. 86.) Huysman's a r t i c l e on Cezanne was p u b l i s h e d a l s o i n h i s C e r t a i n s , b u t t h e r e C h e r e t ' s name was m i s s p e l l e d as "Chevet." ( See f o r example J.K. Huysmans, C e r t a i n s , 3^ ed., P a r i s : P.V. S t o c k , 1898.) T h i e b a u l t - S i s s o n ( i n Le Temps, Oct. 25 1906, quoted i n V o l l a r d , Cezanne, p. 124) d e c l a r e d : " I t i s n o t so much from - 242 - n e g l i g e n c e o r w i l l f u l n e s s as i s due t o t h e c o n f o r m a t i o n o f h i s eye which w i l l n o t p e r m i t him t o push t h e most p r o m i s i n g s k e t c h t o a c o n c l u s i o n , " o f f e r i n g t h i s as an e x p l a n a t i o n f o r Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s b e i n g a r r e s t e d i n t h e s t a g e o f " s k e t c h e s . " I n 1904 he d i d mention "the superb d e c o r a t i v e f e e l i n g " o f a s t i l l l i f e e x h i b i t e d by Cezanne a t t h e S a l o n d'Automne. ( See George Heard H a m i l t o n , "Cezanne and H i s C r i t i c s ; " Cezanne. The L a t e Work, 1977, p. .147. I was unable t o o b t a i n t h e o r i g i n a l a r t i c l e from Le P e t i t Temps.) 4 Jacques D a u r e l l e , "Chez l e s Jeunes P e i n t r e s , " L'Echo de P a r i s , 2 8 Dec. 1891. A n q u e t i n , who d e c l a r e d he was not i n t e r e s t e d i n such c a t e g o r i e s as Symbolism o r I m p r e s s i o n i s m , a l s o mentioned R e n o i r . B e r n a r d added Redon. Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s were a c t u a l l y named as a s o u r c e o f t h e C l o i s o n i s t s t y l e ( t h a t i s t o say, t o g e t h e r w i t h c l o i s o n n e enamels, s t a i n e d - g l a s s windows, Japanese p r i n t s , o r p o p u l a r woodblock p r i n t s known as Images d ' E p i n a l ) by C h a r l e s Chasse. I n h i s books, Le Mouvement s y m b o l i s t e dans 1 ' a r t du X I X e s i e c l e , P a r i s : L i b r a i r i e F l o u r y , 1947, p. 103, o r Les N a b i s e t l e u r temps, Lausanne- P a r i s : La B i b l i o t h e q u e des A r t s , 1960, p. 104, he wrote on E m i l e B e r n a r d : "... l e s c e r n e s de Cezanne 1 ' i n t e r e s s e r e n t t o u t s p e c i a l e m e n t ; avec A n q u e t i n , i l c r e a l e c l o i s o n n i s m e . " Chasse had a l r e a d y i n 19 21 p u b l i s h e d a book on Gauguin and t h e Pont-Aven group, and a n o t h e r one i n 1955. H i s r e s e a r c h i n c l u d e d d i s c u s s i o n s w i t h many e y e - w i t n e s s e s , i n c l u d - i n g a r t i s t s such as B e r n a r d , b u t he was w e l l aware t h a t such i n f o r m a t i o n c o u l d not be t a k e n a t f a c e v a l u e . Chasse i s a t odds w i t h t h e post-Cubism c r i t i c s and a r t h i s t o r i a n s who p e r - s i s t e n t l y t r i e d t o b u i l d up a b i g gap between Cezanne and Gauguin. They emphasized Cezanne's " a r c h i t e c t i o n i c a l c o n s t r u c t i o n " v e r s u s Gauguin's " d e c o r a t i v e f l a t n e s s . " Chasse emphasized t h e i r "common p o i n t s " and t h e f a c t t h a t Gauguin a s s i m i l a t e d Cezanne's " s y n t h e t i s m . " ( See Le Mouvement s y m b o l i s t e , Ch. V: "Gauguin et. Cezanne," o r Les N a b i s , Ch. I l l : " L ' i n t e r v e n t i o n de Gauguin e t de Cezanne.") E m i l e B e r n a r d wrote i n "La methode de P a u l Cezanne," Mercure de F r a n c e , V o l . 1 3 8 , 15 Feb. 1920, p. 290: M o r s que Claude Monet, R e n o i r , e t c . , s ' e f f o r c a i e n t de p e r d r e l e s c o n t o u r s des o b j e t s e t l e s s o u m e t t a i e n t a l ' a i r e t a l a l u m i e r e , Cezanne c o n t o u r n a i t d'un t r a i t h a r d i , s t y l i s e e t v o l o n t a i r e l e s o b j e t s r e p r e s e n t e s , e t s ' a t t a c h a i t p l u s a l e u r l o c a l i t e qu'a l ' a i r e t a l a l u m i e r e . Chasse's s u g g e s t i o n t h a t c o n n e c t s Cezanne's dark o u t l i n e s w i t h C l o i s o n i s m was more r e c e n t l y r e p e a t e d by Mary Anne Stevens i n t h e c a t a l o g u e o f t h e R o y a l Academy e x h i b i t i o n , P o s t - I m p r e s s i o n - i s m , C r o s s - C u r r e n t s i n European P a i n t i n g , London: W e i d e n f e l d and N i c o l s o n , 1979, p. 21 and p. 31. 5 . Quoted i n Chasse, Le Mouvement s y m b o l i s t e , p. 121. I b i d . Quoted by Chasse ( p. 121) from E. B e r n a r d , - 243 - " J u l i e n Tanguy," Mercure de F r a n c e , 16 Dec. 1908. Gauguin f i r s t met Cezanne i n t h e summer o f 1881, when t h e y a l l were i n P o n t o i s e w i t h P i s s a r r o . 7 See a l s o M.A. S t e v e n s , op. c i t . i n n.4. An even b e t t e r example o f Cezanne's " C l o i s o n i s m , " i s Q u v e r t u r e t o Tannhauser ( V.90, 1869-71) - F i g . 1. See a l s o Ch. I I , P a r t 2, n.34 on ; t h i s p a i n t i n g . B e r n a r d ' s i n t e r e s t i n Cezanne's e a r l y works i s e v i d e n t i n h i s own p a i n t i n g s o f t h e p e r i o d on w h i c h C l o i s o n i s m was b o r n , as f o r example i n A t t h e C a b a r e t ( 1887) - s t y l i s t i c a l l y s i m i l a r t o Cezanne's The Orgy ( 1 8 6 4 - 6 8 , V.92), o r i n S t i l l - l i f e w i t h c h e r r i e s and f i g s ( 1 8 8 7 ) - a k i n t o e a r l i e r s t i l l - l i f e s o f Cezanne. B e r n a r d ' s p a i n t i n g s mentioned here a r e r e p r o d u c e d i n t h e L i l l e e x h i b i t i o n c a t a l o g u e ( E. B e r n a r d , 1868-1941. A p r i l 12-June 12, 1967), l i s t e d as #5. Au C a b a r e t , #9. N a t u r e morte aux c e r i s e s and f i g u e s . The a u t h o r o f the c a t a l o g u e remarked upon t h e resemblance t o Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s , b u t he c o n t i n u e d t o p r o p a g a t e t h e myth ( t o w h i c h , as w i l l be shown h e r e , B e r n a r d ' s c o n t r i b u t i o n was e s s e n t i a l s i n c e 1904) t h a t Cezanne does not o u t l i n e forms, t h a t h i s forms a r e b r o u g h t about o n l y by t h e " i n t e r p l a y o f c o l o r " ( see the c a t a l o g u e ' s e n t r y f o r #9). Cezanne's p i c t u r e s a r e i n d i c a t e d by t h e i r number i n V e n t u r i ' s c a t a l o g u e , L i o n e l l o V e n t u r i , Cezanne: son a r t - s o n o e u v r e , P a r i s : P a u l Rosemberg, 1936. A l s o Cezanne's p o r t r a i t s , s p a t i a l l y i n t e g r a t e d w i t h t h e d e s i g n of t h e w a l l p a p e r back- grounds, no doubt i n f l u e n c e d B e r n a r d ' s P o r t r a i t o f Pere Tanguy ( 1887, C a t . P o s t - I m p r e s s i o n i s m , London, 1979, #13), and The A r t i s t ' s Grandmother ( 1887, C a t . L i l l e , #6) - F i g . 2. I n t h e p e r i o d when C l o i s o n i s m was e l a b o r a t e d , B e r n a r d i m i t a t e d a l s o Cezanne's s t y l e o f h i s e a r l y 1880s, such as i s e v i d e n t i n S t i l l ^ l i f e w i t h a t o b a c c o p o t ( 1887, C a t . L i l l e #10) - F i g . 3. I t i s o b v i o u s from t h i s p a i n t i n g t h a t B e r n a r d was more i n t e r e s t e d i n Cezanne's o u t l i n e s t h a n i n h i s " c o l o u r modula- t i o n s ." 8 E m i l e B e r n a r d , " P a u l , C e z a n n e , " L e s Hommes d ' A u j o u r d ' h u i , V o l . 8 , No.387, 1981, n.pag. E n g l i s h t r a n s l a t i o n i n L i n d a N o c h l i n , I m p r e s s i o n i s m and P o s t - I m p r e s s i o n i s m ( 1874-1904), 1966, pp. 100-102. There was some c o n f u s i o n r e g a r d i n g t h e e x a c t d a t e o f t h i s a r t i c l e , because the y e a r i s not I n d i c a t e d on t h e p u b l i - c a t i o n ( w h i c h has not been p u b l i s h e d w i t h r e g u l a r i t y ) , . J o h n . Rewald ( P o s t - I m p r e s s i o n i s m , 1978, p. 522) g i v e s t h e y e a r 1890 f o r t h i s p u b l i c a t i o n . More r e c e n t l y , H e n r i D o r r a ( " E x t r a i t s de l a correspondance d'Emile B e r n a r d des debuts a l a Rose- C r o i x , " Gaz. des B e a u x - A r t s , S e r . 6 , V o l . 9 6 , Dec. 1980, p. 238), on t h e b a s i s o f B e r n a r d ' s l e t t e r s , e s t a b l i s h e d t h a t t h e a r t i c l e was a l r e a d y w r i t t e n i n J a n u a r y 1891, and p u b l i s h e d i n February-March 1891. C a m i l l e P i s s a r r o mentioned t h e a r t i c l e i n t h e l e t t e r o f May 8, 1981 ( s e e L e t t e r s , p. 167). B e r n a r d d i v i d e d Cezanne's oeuvre i n t o t h r e e c a t e g o r i e s : " e a r l y , " "the l i g h t p e r i o d " ( l'epoque c l a i r e ) - w h i c h i s t h e - 244 - " I m p r e s s i o n i s t " one, and c o n s i d e r e d by t h e younger p a i n t e r as "Cezanne's most u n s u c c e s s f u l , " and t h e " l a t e s t manner." 9 I n f a c t t h i s p a i n t i n g can be h a r d l y i n c l u d e d i n t h e " l a t e s t manner." The o r d e r e d p a r a l l e l s t r o k e s a r e not c o v e r - i n g t h e whole p i c t u r e , they a r e o n l y i n c i p i e n t . The " I m p r e s s i o n i s t " manner i s s t i l l e v i d e n t . What a t t r a c t e d B e r n a r d was t h e n o n - n a t u r a l i s t s u b j e c t - m a t t e r . L. N o c h l i n ' s t r a n s l a t i o n , p. 102. ± ± Merete B o d e l s e n , "Gauguin's Gezannes," B u r l i n g t o n Magazine, V o l . 1 0 4 , 1962, p. 207. B o d e l s e n mentioned t h a t Jean Leymarie suggested t h a t t h i s (. V.490) i s t h e p a i n t i n g Gauguin had i n mind when wrote t o S c h u f f e n e c k e r about Cezanne and h i s a r t . I n t h i s l e t t e r o f 14 J a n u a r y 1885, Gauguin w r o t e : Look a t Cezanne, t h e m i s u n d e r s t o o d , an e s s e n t i a l l y m y s t i c E a s t e r n n a t u r e (. he l o o k s l i k e an o l d man o f t h e L e v a n t ) . I n h i s methods, he a f f e c t s a m y s t e r y and t h e heavy t r a n q u i l i t y o f a dreamer; h i s c o l o u r s a r e grave l i k e t h e c h a r a c t e r o f o r i e n t a l s ; a man o f t h e South, he spends whole days on the mountain t o p r e a d i n g V i r g i l and l o o k i n g a t t h e sky. So h i s h o r i z o n s are l o f t y , h i s b l u e s most i n t e n s e , and w i t h him r e d has an amazing v i b r a t i o n . V i r g i l has more t h a n one meaning and can be i n t e r p r e t e d as one l i k e s ; t h e l i t e r a t u r e o f h i s p i c t u r e s has a p a r a b o l i c meaning w i t h two c o n c l u s i o n s ; h i s backgrounds a r e e q u a l l y i m a g i n a t i v e and r e a l i s t i c . To sum up: when we l o o k a t one o f h i s p i c t u r e s , we e x c l a i m " S t r a n g e . " But he i s a m y s t i c , even i n d r a w i n g . ( P. Gauguin, L e t t e r s , op. c i t . , p. 34.) Gauguin used Cezanne t o e x e m p l i f y h i s o p i n i o n t h a t " l i n e s and c o l o r s r e v e a l a l s o . t h e more o r l e s s grand c h a r a c t e r o f t h e a r t i s t , " a p a r t from o t h e r s y m b o l i c meanings. Gauguin was l e s s i n t e r e s t e d t h a n B e r n a r d i n Cezanne's l i n e s , b u t more i n h i s " v i b r a n t " c o l o r , and h i s r a i s e d h o r i z o n s . A t t h e time Gauguin was i n t e r e s t e d i n harmony o f c o l o r s (. making a n a l o g y w i t h music) and saw d r a w i n g and c o l o r i n g as one p r o c e s s ( "Can you r e a l l y make me b e l i e v e t h a t drawing does not d e r i v e from c o l o r , and v i c e - v e r s a " ) , as i s e v i d e n t from h i s "Notes S y n t h e t i q u e s " w r i t t e n i n 1884-1885 (. see I , P a r t 2, n.65). Gauguin a l r e a d y u n d e r s t o o d Cezanne's " s y n t h e t i s m " o f t h e 1880s, b e f o r e B e r n a r d . I f he a p p l i e d i n 1888 t o p a i n t i n g h i s C l o i s o n i s t s t y l e a l r e a d y d e v e l o p e d i n c e r a m i c s , i t was under the i n f l u e n c e o f B e r n a r d . Y e t l a t e r B e r n a r d w i l l accuse Gauguin o f " f l a t n e s s " and o f n o t u n d e r s t a n d i n g Cezanne. 12 -B e r n a r d s a i d : " I c i pas d'ombre p o s i t i v e , une c l a r t e e g a l e b a i g n e , i r i s e chaque chose; on d i r a i t d'un b a s - r e l i e f - 245 - t r e s v i e u x , . . . " 13 See H e n r i D o r r a , " E x t r a i t s de l a c o r r e s p . . .," 1980, p. 239. B e r n a r d e x h i b i t e d i n 1892 w i t h R o s e - C r o i x . x 4 A u r i e r ' s a r t i c l e (. w h i c h B e r n a r d persuaded t o w r i t e ) i s g i v e n by Rewald as t h e most l i k e l y cause o f B e r n a r d ' s break w i t h Gauguin, and a l s o as a p r o b a b l e cause, the Gauguin's a u c t i o n i n F e b r u a r y 1891. I n a l e t t e r t o S c h u f f e n e c k e r , o f August 1891, B e r n a r d w i l l c r i t i c i s e A u r i e r and the young S y m b o l i s t s . ( C f . H. Dorra., 1980, p. 239.) 15 See G o l d w a t e r , Symbolism, p. 186. 1 ft See H. D o r r a , 1980, p. 240. R o s e - C r o i x had s t a r t e d a campaign f o r L a t i n t r a d i t i o n , p a r a l l e l w i t h L ' E c o l e Romane i n l i t e r a t u r e . 17 18 19 20 21 o f a r t : 22 L. N o c h l i n , Impress, and P o s t - I m p r e s s . , p. 100. I b i d . , p. 101. See G o l d w a t e r , Symbol!sm, p. 186. I b i d . , p. 187. L. N o c h l i n , p. 100. My emphasis on " s t y l e . " B e r n a r d d e s c r i b e d Cezanne's l a s t manner as a new k i n d D'une p a t e s o l i d e , t r a i t e e s ,par touches l e n t e m e n t f r a p p e e s de d r o i t e a gauche, l e s oeuvres de l a d e r n i e r e maniere a f f i r m e n t l e s r e c h e r c h e s d'un a r t nouveau, e t r a n g e , i n c o n n u . Des l u m i e r e s ponderees g l i s s e n t mysterieusement dans des pSnombres t r a n s - paremment s o l i d e s ; une g r a v i t e a r c h i t e c t u r a l e p r e s i d e a 1'ordonnance des l i g n e s , p a r f o i s des empatements i n c i t e n t a des s c u l p t u r e s . H. D o r r a , l e t t e r t o S c h u f f e n e c k e r , 16 Aug. 1891, p. 239, 23 • R o s e - C r o i x a l s o wanted works t h a t were m u r a l - l i k e , o r d e c o r a t i o n s . (. See the quote from J . Peiadan., S a l o n de l a R o s e - C r o i x : r e g i e e t m o n i t o i r e , 1891, i n P o s t - I m p r e s s i o n i s m , London, 1979, p. 24.) 24 L. N o c h l i n , p. 100, o r i n F r e n c h : S t y l e . Ton. - P e i n t r e avant t o u t quoique - 246 - penseur, grave a u s s i , i l ouvre a 1 ' a r t c e t t e s u r p r e n a n t e p o r t e : l a p e i n t u r e pour elle-meme. The i s s u e o f " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" and e l i t i s m was c e n t r a l f o r B e r n a r d , who s i g n i f i c a n t l y used as a motto a t t h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h e a r t i c l e , t h i s q u o t a t i o n from Hamlet: C a r , j e m'en s o u v i e n s , l a p i e c e ne p l a i s a i t pas a l a m u l t i t u d e ; c ' e t a i t un mets q u i n ' e t a i t pas du gout de t o u t l e monde, mais c ' e t a i t une p i e c e e x c e l l e n t e . 25 I n September 1891 he wrote t o Bonger: "...chacun a son m a i t r e decidement, e t s;'y conforme au p o s s i b l e , moi j ' a i Cezanne." ( H. Dorra,~19 80, p. 239.) See Ch. I , P a r t 2, pp. 64-70. 27 H i s use o f " d e c o r a t i v e " i n e a s e l p a i n t i n g i s not d i f f e r e n t from B o u y e r ' s . V 2 8 G. Lecomte, L ' A r t Moderne., No.8, 1892, p. 58. 29 I b i d . I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g t o note t h a t t h i s c o r r e s p o n d - ence o f shapes between v a r i o u s elements i n l a n d s c a p e , as w e l l as between l a n d s c a p e shapes and human shapes, was a l s o r a i s e d t o t h e s t a t u s t o P r i n c i p l e by b o t h P u v i s de Chavannes and Eugene C a r r i e r e . T a l k i n g about C a r r i e r e ' s n o t i o n o f "arabesque," Ch. Chasse, ( Les N a b i s , p. 42) s a i d i t was c l o s e t o t h e P u v i s ' c o n c e p t i o n o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t , . . . l e q u e l non seulement h a r m o n i s a i t ses f r e s q u e s aux l i g n e s du mouvement q u ' e l l e s o r n e n t mais q u i e t a b l i s s a i t un e q u i l i b r e e n t r e l e s c o n t o u r s de l a l i g n e d ' h o r i z o n e t l e s s i l h o u e t t e s humains ou a n i m a l e s q u ' i l a v a i t t r a c e e s . Chasse a l s o r e p o r t e d what C a r r i e r e t o l d G. S e a i l l e s : Dans l a n a t u r e . . . l e s formes s o n t sympathiques, d'une meme f a m i l l e , l e s e x p r e s s i o n s d'une meme i d e e q u i peu a peu s ' a f f i r m e e t se p r e c i s e . . . j ' a d m i r a i s l ' o n d u l a t i o n des c o l l i n e s a l a q u e l l e se m a r i a i t l a courbe des f e u i l l a g e s ; . . . e t dans c e t t e bouche o f a woman , comme r e p e t e c l a i r e m e n t , t o u t ce que j e v e n a i s de v o i r e t d'admirer. Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s o f S t e . V i c t o i r e , o f 1885-1887, such as V. 454 ( London, C o u r t a u l t ) and V.455 ( Washington D.C., P h i l l i p s C o l l . ) are examples o f such p a r a l l e l i s m o f shapes, here between t h e branches o f p i n e s and t h e o u t l i n e o f t h e mountain. These p a i n t i n g s , e s p e c i a l l y t h e C o u r t a u l t one, a r e f i n e examples o f Cezanne's "arabesques" e v i d e n t i n t h e shapes o f t h e b r a n c h e s . S t i l l - l i f e s a l l o w e d Cezanne t h e p r e t e x t f o r even more o b v i o u s p l a y o f arabesques, such as i n S t i l l - L i f e w i t h P e p p e r m i n t B o t t l e ( V.625, 1890-92, N a t i o n a l G a l l e r y o f - 247 - A r t , Washington) - F i g . 18. Lecomte, L ' A r t Mod., No.9, p. 67. Lecomte w r o t e : La c o n s t a n t e i n v o c a t i o n de ce nom t u t e - l a i r e nous f e r a i t c r o i r e v o l o n t i e r s que ce q u i l e s s e d u i t dans l ' o e u v r e de Cezanne, ce ne s o n t pas l e s t o i l e s b e l l e s par l a l o g i q u e ordonnance e t l a t r e s s a i n e harmonie des t o n s , q u i p r o u v e h t l e r a r e i n s t i n c t e t l a v i s i o n s i p e r s o n n e l l e de ce grand p e i n t r e , mais b i e n d ' i n c o m p l e t e s c o m p o s i t i o n s que ' chacun s ' a c c o r d e , avec 1'assentiment de M. Cezanne lui-meme, a j u g e r i n f e r i e u r e s , en r a i s o n de l e u r arrangement d e s e q u i l i b r e e t d'un c o l o r i s v r a i m e n t t r o p c o n f u s . 3 1 See Ch. I , P a r t 2, p. 69 and n.81. 32 Lecomte, L ' A r t Mod., No.9, p. 67. He w r o t e : Les p r o t a g o n i s t e s de c e t a r t un peu d e c o n c e r t a n t se r e c l a m e n t des i n t e r p r e t a - t i o n s s y n t h e t i q u e s , e x p r e s s i v e s de M. P a u l Cezanne. Sans doute ses s i m p l i f i c a t i o n s de c o u l e u r s e t a i e n t extremes e t ses v a l e u r s i n f i n i m e n t proches l e s unes des a u t r e s , mais l e p l u s souvent l e s p e r s p e c t i v e s e t l e s p l a n s a p p a r a i s s e n t .dument e t a b l i s . Les champs e t l e s v i l l e s g a r d e n t l e u r c a r a c t e r e , s ' e n v e l o p p e n t des l i m p i d i t e s d'une atmosphere i m m a t e r i e l l e e t se p r o l o n g e n t en des h o r i z o n s l o i n t a i h s d'une p r o f o n d e u r e v i d e n t e . L a n a t u r e e t l'homme, l e c i e l e t 1'eau s o n t i n t e r p r e t e r s eri douces harmonies d'ensemble, mais t o u s l e s elements de ces c o m p o s i t i o n s g a r d e n t l e u r a u t h e n t i c i t e e s s e n t i e l l e . Ces t o i l e s , denuees de beaute ornementale e t de c a r a c t e r e , qu'on p r e t e n d l e g i t i m e r p a r l e s r e a l i s a t i o n s de M. Cezanne, en a p p a r a i s s e n t comme 1'incomprehensive c a r i c a t u r e . 33 J I b i d . 34 Gustave G e f f r o y ( 1855-1926) began h i s c a r e e r as a j o u r n a l i s t . He c o l l a b o r a t e d a t Georges Clemenceau's La J u s t i c e s i n c e i t s f o u n d a t i o n , i n 1880. H i s f r i e n d s h i p w i t h Clemenceau l a s t e d f o r t y y e a r s . As a w r i t e r , l i k e Lecomte, he can be c h a r a c t e r i z e d b e s t as an independent. He was, l i k e Huysmans, d e s c r i b e d by Andre F o n t a i n a s ( Mes s o u v e n i r s du symbolisme, P a r i s : E d i t i o n s de l a N o u v e l l e Revue C r i t i q u e , 2nd ed. , 1928, p. 20) as a " d i s s i d e n t from N a t u r a l i s m . " However i t i s more c l o s e l y t o t h i s movement t h a t he remains a t t a c h e d . Between 1892-1903 he p u b l i s h e d the e i g h t volumes o f La V i e - 248 - a r t i s t i q u e , w h i c h assembled h i s w r i t i n g s as an a r t c r i t i c , s i n c e 1883. G e f f r o y was a b e l i e v e r i n s o c i a l a r t , and i n a r t i s t i c e d u c a t i o n o f t h e worker. I n 1895 he p u b l i s h e d Musee de s o i r aux q u a r t i e r o u v r i e r s . . . w i t h a c o v e r by C a r r i e r e , i n s p i r e d by t h e K e n s i n g t o n system. ( See P i s s a r r o ' s comment on i t , Ch. I , P a r t 1, n.40). He a d v o c a t e d an a l l i a n c e o f a r t and i n d u s t r y and a r e v i v a l o f t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s t h a t would c o n t r i b u t e t o r e t u r n t o a r t i t s l o s t p l a c e i n everyday l i f e . L i k e Nocq ( see Ch. I , P a r t 1, p. 23) f o r whose Tendences N o u v e l l e s . Enquete s u r 1 ' e v o l u t i o n des i n d u s t r i e s d ' a r t , o f 1896 he wrote t h e p r e f a c e , he d i d not b e l i e v e i n e l i t i s t d e c o r a t i v e a r t s done f o r amateurs, b u t f o r t h e masses. He c o n s i d e r e d "the a n n e x a t i o n o f t h e u s u a l o b j e c t s by a r t " a q u e s t i o n o f l i f e and death f o r t h e i n d u s t r i a l a r t s " ( L a V i e a r t i s t i q u e , P a r i s : F l o u r y , V o l . V , 1897, p. 304). From 1905 u n t i l h i s d e a t h , G e f f r o y was t h e d i r e c t o r o f t h e M a n u f a c t u r e N a t i o n a l e des G o b e l i n s . G e f f r o y c o n s i d e r e d t h e work o f a r t as one o f t h e b e s t means o f propaganda, and he d e c l a r e d : ... que l'on.songe aux masses p r o f o n d e s q u ' i l e s t n e c e s s a i r e d ' a p p e l e r a l a v i e de l a pensee pour p a r f a i r e l a c o n s c i e n c e u n i v e r s e l l e . Ce s o n t ces masses q u ' i l f a u t v i o l e n t e r par 1 ' a c t i o n c o n t i n u e , q u ' i l f a u t a l l e r s a i s i r jusque dans l'ombre ou e l l e s s u b i s s e n t l e u r s o r t , ou e l l e s s t a g n e n t e t c r o u p i s s e n t , e t d'ou e l l e s s o r t e n t p a r f o i s avec des f u r e u r s s o u d a i n e s . ( L a V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . V , 1897, p. 34) F o r g e n e r a l i n f o r m a t i o n on G e f f r o y , see H e c t o r T a l v a r t and Joseph P l a c e , B i b l i o g r a p h i e des a u t e u r s modernes de langue f r a n c a i s e ( 1801-1936), P a r i s : ed. de l a c h r o n i q u e des l e t t r e s f r a n c a i s e s , V o l . V I , 1937, pp. 381-389, and t h e c a t a l o g u e o f t h e e x h i b i t i o n Gustave G e f f r o y e t l ' a r t moderne, B i b l i o t h e q u e N a t i o n a l e , P a r i s , 1957. 35 G e f f r o y s a i d : Les e t i q u e t t e s , r e e l l e m e n t , ne s i g n i f i e n t pas grand'chose, e t v o u l o i r enfermer l ' a r t dans un code q u e l c o n q u e , i d e a l i s t e , romantique, i m p r e s s i o n n i s t e , s y m b o l i s t e , e s t un j e u b i e n p u e r i l , s i l ' o n v e u t se donner l a p e i n e d ' o b s e r v e r dans l e temps e t dans l ' e s p a c e . ( La V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . V , p. 285.) and a l s o : I I s e r a i t p e u t - e t r e p l u s s i m p l e d'admettre que r e a l i s m e e t i d e a l i s m e se c o n c i l i e n t , chez l e s v r a i m e n t g r a n d s . . . q u i e s t simplement l ' a r t , e x p r e s s i o n humaine de l a n a t u r e , de l a v i e . ( I b i d . , p. 286.) I n h i s own l i t e r a r y work, G e f f r o y has been compared t o t h e p a i n t e r Eugene C a r r i e r e whom he h i g h l y p r a i s e d , because "he mixes a s o r t o f m e l a n c h o l y t e n d e r n e s s w i t h t h e r e a l i s t t r u t h . " - 249 - ( T a l v a r t . and P l a c e , B i b l i o g r a p h i e , V o l . V I , p. 381.) 36 See G e f f r o y ' s c r i t i q u e o f H e n r i M a r t i n ' s f r i z e f o r t h e H o t e l de V i l l e , L a V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . V , p. 235. I n f a c t , l i k e f o r Lecomte o r M a u c l a i r , p a i n t i n g had a h i g h e r s t a t u s t h a n t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s f o r G e f f r o y as w e l l . He a c c e p t e d , even r e q u i r e d i n t h e " i n d u s t r i a l a r t s " s i m p l i f i - c a t i o n s ( " r e v e n i r aux formes s i m p l e s , l o g i q u e s , r e n d r e a 1 ' o u v r i e r 1'amour de son m e t i e r " - L a V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . V , p. 304), b u t t h e s e were r e a l i z e d by " s i m p l e a r t i s a n s , " o n l y " a i d e d by t h e a r t i s t s . " ( I b i d . , p. 306.) What G e f f r o y was a d v o c a t i n g was a d v o c a t e d t h r e e decades b e f o r e by C h a r l e s B l a n c . ( See Ch. I , P a r t 1.) Most avant-garde a r t i s t s , as I i n d i c a t e d i n Ch. I , P a r t 1, were not i n t e r e s t e d i n " i n d u s t r i a l a r t s , " b u t i n c r e a t i n g " a r t o b j e c t s " f o r t h e amateurs. These o b j e c t s were not i n t e n d e d f o r m a s s - p r o d u c t i o n , t h e y were one o f a k i n d , j u s t as a t a b l e a u o r a s t a t u e , and n o t v e r y "use- f u l . " I n p a i n t i n g G e f f r o y d i d not f a v o r " s y n t h e t i c l a n d - scapes," f o r example. He complained: On a abuse des paysages d i t s s y m t h e t i q u e s [ s i c ] , f a i t s de c h i c a 1 ' a t e l i e r avec t r o i s l i g n e s e t q u a t r e c o u l e u r s , sous l e p r e t e x t e < q u ' i l e t a i t d'un e t r o i t r e a l i s m e de p e i n d r e d'apres n a t u r e . ( L a . V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . V , p. 387.) G e f f r o y had not c o n s i d e r e d a p p r o p r i a t e s i m p l i f i e d forms and c o l o r even f o r t a p e s t r y , and e x p r e s s e d h i s a d m i r a t i o n f o r Raphael's P a r n a s s e t h a t d e c o r a t e d t h e h a l l w a y o f t h e S a l o n o f Champs-Elysees. ( I b i d . , p. 327.) T h i s e x p l a i n s why d u r i n g h i s a d m i n i s t r a t i o n a t t h e G o b e l i n s , t h e p r a c t i c e o f t a p e s t r y - t a b l e a u c o n t i n u e d . 37 See M. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 18, where he p r o t e s t e d Lecomte's c r i t i c i s m o f t h e S y m b o l i s t s ' h i e r a t i s m . 38 G. G e f f r o y , " P a u l Cezanne," L a V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . I l l , P a r i s : Dentu, 1894, t r a n s l a t e d by L. N o c h l i n i n i m p r e s s i o n i s m and P o s t - I m p r e s s i o n i s m , p. 104. 39 L. N o c h l i n , I m p r e s s i o n i s m and P o s t - I m p r . , p. 106. 40 I b i d . I n any. e v e n t , a c c o r d i n g t o G e f f r o y , Cezanne was " t r u t h f u l " i n t h e t r a n s p o s i t i o n o f t h e " s e n s a t i o n o f t h i s i n t o x i c a t i o n " e x p e r i e n c e d by t h e p a i n t e r i n f r o n t o f n a t u r e , " o r o f t h e "dream t h a t i n v a d e s him b e f o r e t h e s p l e n d o r o f n a t u r e . " ( See L. N i c h l i n , p. 104 and p. 107.) The " s e n s a t i o n " o f o b v i o u s l y u n d e r s t o o d here i n t h e sense o f "emotion," not as a p u r e l y v i s u a l one; t o g e t h e r w i t h t h e "dream," i t I n f r i n g e d i n t o S y m b o l i s t t e r r i t o r y . 41 N o c h l i n , p. 106. As example o f a p a i n t i n g r e s e m b l i n g - 250 - t a p e s t r y , r e p r e s e n t i n g a r o c k y bay and t h e s e a , one c o u l d g i v e Rocks a t I''Est ague ( V.404, 1882-1885) - F i g . 12. 4 2 TK-/I I b i d . 4 3 See Ch. I , P a r t 1, p. 33. 44 . Compare w i t h what was s a i d I n Ch. I , P a r t 2, pp. 81- 83. 4 5 See Ch. I I , P a r t 1, n.3. . 46 N o c h l i n , p. 106. Even i n " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " ( he r e f e r s t o m u r a l s ) , G e f f r o y d i d not a c c e p t such p r o j e c t i o n s o f p l a n e s f o r w a r d . He wrote i n L a V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . V , p. 173: Sous l e r a d i e u x s o l e i l comme dans 1'ombre du s o i r , i l y a une p r o f o n d e u r e t des p l a n s que l a l o i l a p l u s e l e m e n t a i r e i n t e r d i t de p r o j e t e r en a v a n t . 4 7 G. G e f f r o y , " P a u l Cezanne". ( 16 Nov. 1895), L a V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . V I , P a r i s : Dentu, 1900, p. 217. 48 I b i d . , pp. 216-17. 49 The Orgy: V.92, a s c r i b e d by V e n t u r i t o t h e p e r i o d 1864-1868, 130 x 81 cm. G e f f r o y d e s c r i b e d t h e p a i n t i n g w i t h o u t g i v i n g i t s name, b u t the d e s c r i p t i o n i s q u i t e s t r a i g h t f o r w a r d . V e n t u r i a l s o mentioned t h a t G e f f r o y commented on t h i s p a i n t i n g . 50 . . La V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . V I , pp. 217-18. F o r A u r i e r see Ch. I , P a r t 2, p. 63. 51 B l a n c r e q u i r e d w e l l - d e f i n e d "forms," b u t a l l o w e d f o r c o n c e s s i o n s , i n r e g a r d t o p e r s p e c t i v e , c h i a r o s c u r o , e t c . ( see Ch. I , P a r t 1, p. 39). G e f f r o y promoted t h e t r a n s l a t i o n i n t o t h e medium o f t a p e s t r y o f modern p a i n t i n g s , b u t w i t h no r e g a r d whatsoever f o r t h e s p e c i f i c i t y o f t h i s medium.and f o r t h e laws o f d e c o r a t i o n . . Under G e f f r o y ' s a d m i n i s t r a t i o n , t h e l i t e r a l copy.of p a i n t i n g s "was a t i t s apogee." (See P i e r r e V a i s s e , "La q u e r e l l e de l a T a p i s s e r i e au debut de l a I I I e R e p u b l i q u e , " Revue de l ' A r t , No.22, 19 73, p. 81.) G e f f r o y r e q u e s t e d e x a c t c o p i e s o f p a i n t i n g s by Monet, i n a l l t h e i r s u b t l e t i e s , by R a f f a e l l i , F l a n d r i n , o r used c a r t o o n s by A n q u e t i n , done i n h i s "Rubenesque" p e r i o d . See a l s o G u i l l a u m e ' s Janneau's c h a p t e r i n F r e n c h T a p e s t r y , e d i t e d by Andre L e j a r d , ( t r a n s l . from La T a p i s s e r i e , P a r i s : Ed. du Chene, 1942), London: P. E l e k P u b l . , 1946, p<. 20. - 2 5 1 - 52 He d i d p r a i s e h i s f r i e n d Monet ( on whom he wrote a b o o k ) , and c o n s i d e r e d h i m s e l f t o be a s u p p o r t e r o f modern a r t ( as c r i t i c and c o l l e c t o r ) , b u t he was a c t u a l l y a " j u s t e m i l i e u c r i t i c . " 53 G e f f r o y , L a V i e a r t i s t i q u e , V o l . V I , p. 219. 54 Thadee Natanson, " P a u l Cezanne," Revue B l a n c h e , V o l . 9 , No.60, 1 Dec. 1895, p. 497.. 5 5 See Ch. I I , P a r t 1, p. 96. Natanson, p. 49 8. I n o p p o s i t i o n w i t h Natanson, was F r a n g o i s T h i e b a u l t - S i s s o n ' s comment, from a N a t u r a l i s t ( he was a s s o c i a t e d w i t h Zola) p o s i t i o n . He d e c l a r e d i n Le Temps o f 22 Dec. 1895 t h a t Cezanne was " t o o i n c o m p l e t e " t o r e a l i z e f u l l y h i s own d i s - c o v e r i e s . Z o l a h i m s e l f , w i l l r e f e r t o Cezanne i n h i s l a s t " S a l o n " o f . 1 8 9 6 , as a " g r e a t a b o r t i v e p a i n t e r " : J ' a v a i s g r a n d i presque dans l e meme b e r c e a u , avec mon ami, mon f r e r e , P a u l Cezanne, dont s ' a v i s e seulement a u j o u r d ' h u i de d e c o u v r i r l e s p a r t i e s g e n i a l e s : d e grand p e i n t r e a v o r t e . ( E m i l e Z o l a , Le Bon Combat. De C o u r b e t aux I m p r e s s i o n i s t e s , P r e f . G~ P i c o n , ed. P a u l B o u i l l o n , P a r i s : Hermann,' C o l l e c t i o n S a v o i r , 1974, p. 260.) Z o l a never c o n s i d e r e d t h a t Cezanne r e a l i z e d h i m s e l f as a p a i n t e r . L e a v i n g a s i d e t h e q u e s t i o n o f h i s n o v e l L'Oeuvre, s i n c e i t s main c h a r a c t e r was not m o d e l l e d o n l y a f t e r Cezanne, we might r e c a l l t h a t i n 18 70 he t o l d Th. D u r e t , "Wait u n t i l he has found h i m s e l f " ( Z o l a , p. 242, n.68), and i n 1877: "Le j o u r ou M. P a u l Cezanne se p o s s e d r a t o u t e n t i e r , i l p r o d u i r a des oeuvres t o u t a f a i t s u p e r i e u r e s . " ( Z o l a , p. 188.) 5 7 See Ch. I I , P a r t 1, p. 100. 5 8 Natanson, p. 498. I b i d . 60 Natanson, p. 499. T h i s p a i n t i n g c o u l d have been V.179 o r V.183. 6 1 I b i d . , p. 500. 6 2 Andre M e l l e r i o , Le Mouvement i d e a l i s t e en p e i n t u r e , P a r i s : F l o u r y , 1896, p. 13. F o r t h e quote from D e n i s see T h e o r i e s , p. 70. - 252 - D J Ch. I , P a r t 2, pp. 53-54. M e l l e r i o i s a l s o v e r y c r i t i c a l o f R o s e - C r o i x . 64 M e l l e r i o , p. 26. L i k e G e f f r o y though, he adds Cezanne's p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h " t r u t h " : On d i r a i t qu'a chaque o b j e t i l a v o u l u r e s t i t u e r i n t a c t , cans sa f o r c e p r i m i t i v e non a v e u l i e par des p r a t i q u e s d ' a r t , son e c l a t v r a i e t e s s e n t i e l . U J I b i d . , p. 27. M e l l e r i o added: Chez Cezanne, l e v o u l o i r de se r e m e t t r e d i r e c t e m e n t en r a p p o r t avec l a n a t u r e , l ' a r d e u r a s'en s a i s i r p l e i n e m e n t avec un i n g e n u i t e maintenue j u s q u ' a l a g a u c h e r i e . ^ L i k e D e n i s , he c a l l e d most o f t h e N a b i s p a i n t e r s , > " S y n t h e t i s t s . " 6 7 See M e l l e r i o , p. 25. 6 8 F e l i c i e n Fagus, "Quarante t a b l e a u x de Cezanne," L a Revue B l a n c h e , V o l . 2 0 , Sept.-Nov. 1899, p. 627. 69 Fagus, pp. 627-28. I was not a b l e t o i d e n t i f y t h e s m a l l P i c n i c by t h e Sea about which Fagus was so e n t h u s i a s t i c , b u t i t p r o b a b l y was a p r e l i m i n a r y s t u d y t o e i t h e r one o f t h e l a r g e B a t h e r s : V.720 ( Barnes F o u n d a t i o n , M e r i o n , Pa.) o r V.721 ( N a t i o n a l G a l l e r y , London). Fagus a l s o mentioned t h e Maison l e z a r d e e ( The House w i t h C r a c k e d W a l l s ) , V.657 (.1892-94), which we know was l i s t e d as No.3 i n t h e 1899 e x h i b i t i o n ( see L. V e n t u r i , Cezanne, V o l . 1 , p. 206) and a Jeune B a i g n e u r . The l a t t e r , compared by Fagus w i t h t h e c r o s s i n 1'Enterrement d'Ornans by C o u r b e t , because o f t h e way t h i s f i g u r e w i t h s t r e t c h e d arms p r o f i l e d i t s e l f a g a i n s t t h e s k y , i s p r o b a b l y V.549 ( 1885-87). 70 ;-• See D e n i s , J o u r n a l , V o l . 1 , p. 149 ( C h r i s t m a s 1898). I don't know how V u i l l a r d a r r i v e d a t t h i s i n f o r m a t i o n ( maybe t h r o u g h V o l l a r d , o r Cezanne's s o n ) , b u t we know t h a t Cezanne admired "the g r e a t d e c o r a t i v e masters Veronese and Rubens." ( Cezanne, l e t t e r t o Camoin, 3 Feb. 1902, L e t t e r s , 1976, p. 282.) Georges Lecomte, " P a u l Cezanne," Revue d'Art,Vol-. 1, Nov. 4, 1899, p. 86. He - s a i d : I I en t r a d u i t l ' i n t i m i t e e t l a g r a n d e u r , mais i l echoue dans l ' a r t d'espacer l e s p l a n s , de donner 1 ' i l l u s i o n de l ' e t e n d u e . - 253 - 72 Son maigre s a v o i r l e t r a h i t . Cezanne n'a pas l e s moyens de r e n d r e t o u t ce q u ' i l p e r g o i t . . . B i e n de f o i s i l a r r i v e que ses etudes de n a t u r e s o n t sans p r o f o n d e u r . E l l e s donnent 1 ' i m p r e s s i o n d'une somptueuse t a p i s s e r i e sans l o i n t a i n . Ce s o n t des harmonies e x q u i s e s , de v a l e u r s t r e s r a p p r o c h e e s , p a r t o n s p l a t s t r e s s i m p l e s , q u i augmentent 1 ' i m p r e s s i o n de douceur e t de charme. Mais l e s d i v e r s e s l i g n e s du paysage ne s'espacent p o i n t dans 1 1 atmosphere. I b i d . Lecomte w r o t e : ...au beaux j o u r s - s i v i t e r e v o l u s - du symbolisme m y s t i q u e , on s ' e p r i t s u r t o u t de c e t t e absence de p r o f o n d e u r . C e l a f i t e c o l e . Comme i l e t a i t de mode de recommencer, p a r systeme, l e s n a i v e t e s des P r i m i t i f s , Cezanne f u t s a l u e comme un p r e c u r s e u r . On l ' a i m a pour ses i m p e r f e c t i o n s , que, de t o u t son e f f o r t , i l c h e r c h e a e v i t e r , comme s ' i l l e s a v a i t d e l i b e r e m e n t c o n s e n t i e s . Mais l e symbolisme y t r o u v a i t sa p r o p r e j u s t i f i c a t i o n . 73 See M. D e n i s . O r a n g e r i e s , p. 56. The p a i n t i n g was bought by Andre G i d e . ( See D e n i s , J o u r n a l , I , pp. 16 8-69.) 74 P. Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 275. ( A i x , June 5, 1901.) F o r D e n i s ' s answer, i n w h i c h he e x p r e s s e d a g a i n h i s a d m i r a - t i o n f o r Cezanne ( as w e l l as t h e a d m i r a t i o n o f t h e e n t i r e "group o f young p e o p l e t o w h i c h I b e l o n g and who can r i g h t l y c a l l t h e m s e l v e s your p u p i l s " ) , see I b i d . , pp. 275-76. 75 A f t e r t h e death o f Gauguin, i n 190 3, D e n i s wrote f o r L ' O c c i d e n t an a r t i c l e , "The i n f l u e n c e o f P a u l . G a u g u i n . " There he d e s c r i b e d Gauguin as " s o r t o f P o u s s i n w i t h o u t c l a s s i c a l c u l t u r e , " because l i k e P o u s s i n , he l o v e d s i m p l i c i t y , c l a r i t y , and f o r him " s y n t h e s i s and s t y l e were a l m o s t synonymous." ( D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 166.) 76 See T h e o r i e s , p. 185, from "La R e a c t i o n N a t i o n a l i s t e , " L ' E r m i t a g e , 15 May 1905. 7 7 See my d i s c u s s i o n on B e r n a r d ' s a r t i c l e o f 1891. 78 See a l s o n.226. 79 B l a n c ( Gramm. des a r t s du d e s ' s i r , 1882, p. 666) d i d not c o n s i d e r t h e " i m i t a t i o n " o f t h e p a r t i c u l a r , o f t h e a c c i d e n t a l ( such as i n N a t u r a l i s m ) , as " a r t . " He r e q u i r e d from a r t t o e x t r a c t from r e a l i t y t h e " t y p i c a l " and t h e - 254 - "beauty." See a l s o Ch. I , P a r t 1, n.106. 80 E m i l e B e r n a r d , " P a u l Cezanne," L ' O c c i d e n t , No.32, J u l y 1904, p. 23. A good p a r t o f t h i s a r t i c l e i s t r a n s l a t e d i n E n g l i s h i n Judy Wechsler ed., Cezanne i n P e r s p e c t i v e , New J e r s e y : P r e n t i c e - H a l l , 19 75, pp. 39-45. However, i n t h e p r e s e n t paper, when t h e quotes are i n E n g l i s h t h e y a r e my t r a n s l a t i o n . 81 See Ch. B l a n c , H i s t o i r e des p e i n t r e s des t o u t e s l e s e c o l e s : , E c o l e V e n i t i e n n e , P a r i s : Renouard, 1868, p. 16 and p. 12. / ; B e r n a r d , even i n h i s " c l a s s i c i s t " p e r i o d , was opposed t o academism, and e x p r e s s e d t h e o p i n i o n t h a t B l a n c ' s books were "mediocre." 82 I n t h e l e t t e r o f F e b r u a r y 3, 1902, Cezanne a d v i s e d t h e young p a i n t e r C h a r l e s Camoin: S i n c e you a r e now i n P a r i s and t h e masters o f t h e Louvre a t t r a c t you, i f i t a p p e a l s t o you, make some s t u d i e s a f t e r t h e g r e a t d e c o r a t i v e masters Veronese and Rubens, b u t as you would do a f t e r n a t u r e - a t h i n g I m y s e l f was o n l y a b l e t o do i n a d e q u a t e l y . ( Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 282) Cezanne's o p i n i o n on M i c h e l a n g e l o was e x p r e s s e d a l s o i n a l e t t e r t o Camoin: ...- what you must s t r i v e t o a c h i e v e i s a good method o f c o n s t r u c t i o n . Drawing i s m e r e l y t h e o u t l i n e o f what you see. M i c h e l a n g e l o i s a c o n s t r u c t o r , and Raphael an a r t i s t who, g r e a t as he may be, i s always t i e d t o t h e model. - When he t r i e s t o become a t h i n k e r he s i n k s below h i s g r e a t r i v a l . ( L e t t e r o f 9 Dec. 1904, L e t t e r s , p. 309) 8 3 B e r n a r d , "P. Cezanne," 1904, p. 22. 84 E. B e r n a r d , " L ' E r r e u r de Cezanne," Mercure de F r a n c e , 1 May 1926, p. 513. 5 I b i d . , p. 522. ^ I b i d . , p. 525. 7 B e r n a r d ( "P. Cezanne," 1904, p. 22) s a i d : Les s y n t h e s e s e x p r e s s i v e s de Cezanne s o n t de m i n u t i e u s e s e t soumises e t u d e s . P r e n a n t l a n a t u r e comme p o i n t d ' a p p u i , i l se conforme aux phenomenes e t l e s t r a n s c r i t l e n t e m e n t , - 255 - a t t e n t i v e m e n t , j u s q u ' a ce q u ' i l a i t d e c o u v e r t l e s l o i s q u i l e s p r o d u i s e n t . A l o r s , avec l o g i q u e , i l s'en empare, e t acheve son t r a v a i l p a r une imposante et. v i v a n t e s y n t h e s e . Sa c o n c l u s i o n , d ' a c c o r d avec s a n a t u r e m e r i d i o n a l e e t e x p a n s i v e , e s t d e c o r a t i v e ; c ' e s t - a - d i r e l i b r e e t e x a l t e e . 8 8 B e r n a r d , 1904, p. 21. 89 I b i d , pp. 29-30. B e r n a r d s a i d : Quoique pense d ' e l l e l e m a i t r e , t r o p s e v e r e pour lui-meme, e l l e domine t o u t e l a p r o d u c t i o n contemporaine, e l l e s'impose p a r l a s a v e u r e t 1 ' o r i g i n a l i t e de sa v i s i o n , l a beaute de sa m a t i e r e , l a r i c h e s s e d e son c o l o r i s , son c a r a c t e r e s e r i e u x e t d u r a b l e , son ampleur d e c o r a t i v e . I t i s p o s s i b l e Cezanne a c t u a l l y s a i d : I I f a u t e t r e o u v r i e r dans son a r t . S a v o i r de bonne heure sa methode de r e a l i s a t i o n . E t r e p e i n t r e par l e s q u a l i t e s memes de l a p e i n t u r e . Se s e r v i r de m a t e r i a u x g r o s s i e r s . ( B e r n a r d , "P. Cezanne," 1904, p. 24.) 90 I b i d . , p. 25. On Cezanne's r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h I m p r e s s i o n i s m , B e r n a r d w r o t e : ... Comme on l e v o i t , i l se d i f f e r e n c i e e s s e n t i e l l e m e n t de 1 ' i m p r e s s i o n n i s m e , dont i l d e r i v e , mais dans l e q u e l i l ne peut emprisonner sa n a t u r e . L o i n d ' e t r e un spontane, Cezanne e s t un r e f l e c h l , son g e n i e e s t un e c l a i r en p r o f o n d e u r . I I r e s u l t e done que son temperament t r e s p e i n t r e l ' a c o n d u i t a des c r e a t i o n s d e c o r a t i v e s n o u v e l l e s , a des s y n t h e s e s i n a t t e n d u e s ; e t ces s y n t h e s e s on e t e en v e r i t e l e p l u s grand p r o g r e s j a i l l i des a p e r c e p t i o n s modernes;... 9 1 See Ch. I , P a r t 2,. "B," and Ch. I I , P a r t 1, p. 96. 92 See f o r example B e r n a r d , "La methode de P a u l Cezanne," Mercure de F r a n c e , V o l . 1 3 8 , 1 March 1920, p. 291: Quant a l ' e s t h e t i q u e d e s i m p r e s s i o n n i s t e s e t c e l l e de Cezanne, on ne peut y ; r e c o n n a i t r e aucune d i f f e r e n c e : e l l e s t e n d e n t t o u t e s deux a 1 ' e x p r e s s i o n des choses que nous, voyons, au mepris de 1' i n v e n t i o n , p a r un s t y l e soumis ;',: :. - 256 - a l a n a t u r e . C'est l e n a t u r a l i s m e . B e r n a r d emphasized h e r e , t h a t w h i l e f o r t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s the manner ( l a maniere) o f p a i n t i n g was o f no i m p o r t a n c e , s i n c e t h e y were not concerned, w i t h "the beauty o f t h e means" ( l a beaute du moyen), Cezannes' a p p l i q u a i t a t r o u v e r une maniere de p e i n d r e q u i f u t v r a i m e n t p i c t u r a l e , e t dans l a q u e l l e un d e l i c a t p o u r r a i t p u i s e r l a s a t i s f a c t i o n de son gout pour l a f a c t u r e . From B e r n a r d ' s l e t t e r t o h i s mother, 5 Feb. 1904 ( "Un E x t r a o r d i n a i r e Document s u r P a u l Cezanne," A r t s - d o c u m e n t s , Nov. 1954, p. 4 ) , quoted i n R i c h a r d S h i f t , " S e e i n g Cezanne," C r i t i c a l I n q u i r y , V o l . 4 , Summer 1978, p. 798. S h i f f i s r i g h t i n p o i n t i n g out t h a t B e r n a r d ' s " o f f i c i a l " statement i n L ' O c c i d e n t o f 1904 d i d not q u i t e match h i s p e r s o n a l o p i n i o n , and t h a t R e f f was i n n a c u r a t e i n t h i s r e s p e c t . But S h i f f d i d not c l a r i f y what d i d B e r n a r d mean by " n a t u r a l i s m . " B e r n a r d ' s d e f i n i t i o n was q u i t e encompassing and i n f a c t r e f e r r e d t o any work t h a t was p a i n t e d I n f r o n t o f a " m o t i f " i n s t e a d o f u s i n g one's i m a g i n a t i o n ( h e l p e d by memories o f " c l a s s i c a l " a r t ) . I do not i n t e n d t o d i s c u s s S h i f f ' s a r t i c l e , but I would l i k e t o p o i n t out t h a t he l o o k e d a t Cezanne o n l y from t h e p o i n t o f view o f two p o s s i b l e a l t e r n a t i v e s : Symbolism o r I m p r e s s i o n - ism; he a r r i v e d a t t h e c o n c l u s i o n t h a t t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t p o i n t o f view c o r r e s p o n d s b e t t e r w i t h Cezanne's own i n t e n t i o n s . L a t e r S h i f f wrote an a r t i c l e i n w h i c h he demonstrated t h a t Symbolism and I m p r e s s i o n i s m were not so a n t i t h e t i c a f t e r a l l i n t h e 1890s, b u t he d i d n o t m o d i f y h i s views on Cezanne. By p a i n t i n g n a t u r e " a c c o r d i n g t o a r t i t s e l f , " B e r n a r d meant c u l t i v a t i n g o n e s e l f i n t h e museums, s t u d y i n g t h e works o f t h e g r e a t c l a s s i c s ( o r o f t h e g r e a t M a s t e r s ' t o be c o r r e c t , s i n c e he used t h e word " c l a s s i c " more i n t h a t sense, i n c l u d i n g Rubens and t h e V e n e t i a n s among them), e x t r a c t i n g from them t h e "laws o f n a t u r e , " i n s t e a d o f p a i n t i n g d i r e c t l y .from a model o r m o t i f . The N a t u r e - A r t r e l a t i o n s h i p was i n f a c t t h e bone o f c o n t e n t i o n between Cezanne and B e r n a r d , as i s o b v i o u s i n Cezanne's l e t t e r s . ( See a l s o Ch. I I , P a r t 2.) On May 26, a f t e r r e a d i n g t h e a r t i c l e B e r n a r d was t o p u b l i s h i n L ' O c c i d e n t , Cezanne wrote t o B e r n a r d : On the whole I approve o f t h e i d e a s you a r e t o expound i n your n e x t a r t i c l e f o r ' O c c i d e n t ' . But I must always come back t o t h i s : p a i n t e r s must devote t h e m s e l v e s e n t i r e l y t o the s t u d y o f n a t u r e . . . ( Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 303.) 94 E. B e r n a r d , "Paul Cezanne," 1904, p. 26. 95 I b i d . , p. 24. B e r n a r d i n s i s t e d on t r a d i t i o n , b u t not n e c e s s a r i l y F r e n c h t r a d i t i o n . He p r e f e r r e d I t a l i a n a r t . I n 1926 he d e s c r i b e d P o u s s i n as t h e most c l a s s i c a l o f t h e F r e n c h , but w i t h o u t t h e " l y r i s m " o f M i c h e l a n g e l o . ( See E. B e r n a r d , " L ' E r r e u r de Cezanne," MerGure.de F r a n c e , May 1, 1926, pp. 518-19.) Cezanne's " e r r o r , " a c c o r d i n g t o B e r n a r d , was i n f a c t http://MerGure.de - 257 - t h e c o n t r a d i c t i o n o f terms i m p l i e d i n t h e w e l l - p o p u l a r i z e d d i c t u m " c l a s s i c a l by t h e way o f n a t u r e " ( o r a l s o " P o u s s i n r e - done from n a t u r e , " as B e r n a r d now c l a i m e d Cezanne a l s o added). I t meant l e a v i n g a s i d e t h e b e s t p a r t o f P o u s s i n and l e a d i n g him t o r e a l i s m , " t h a t i s t o t h e f u r t h e s t p o s s i b l e p o i n t away from c l a s s i c a l a r t . " 96 B e r n a r d , 1904, p. 24. Compare t o Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 301. V e n t u r i remarked i n 1936: Comme a p r e s l a mort de Cezanne on a i n v e n t e l e cubisme, on a c r u t r o u v e r dans ce passage une j u s t i f i c a t i o n du Cubisme par Cezanne. C'est une e r r e u r e v i d e n t e . Cezanne a v o u l u p a r l e r de 1 1 a c c o r d en p e r s p e c t i v e de l a c o m p o s i t i o n comme en e u t p a r l e un I t a l i e n de l a R e n a i s s a n c e , e t non pas un p r e c u r s e u r de cubisme. ( L. V e n t u r i , Cezanne, 1936, p. 36.) B e r n a r d and Denis were though:: t h e ones t h a t f i r s t o v e r - emphasized and t o o k . o u t o f / c o n t e x t Cezanne's q u o t e , and t h e y were not t r y i n g t o j u s t i f y Cubism e i t h e r . But t h e y wanted t o make propaganda f o r c l a s s i c i s m , which r e q u i r e d an emphasis on "volumes." Maybe t h i s p r o v e s what Gustave Kahn n o t i c e d a l r e a d y i n 1913, namely t h a t even though G l e i z e s and M e t z i n g e r i n t h e i r Cubisme p r e s e n t e d Courbet and Cezanne as t h e i r a n c e s t o r s , t h e y were i n f a c t i n f l u e n c e d by t h e " c l a s s i c i s t s . " ( See G. Kahn, " L ' e x p o s i t i o n des Independents," Mercure de F r a n c e , V o l . 1 0 2 , No.380, 16 Apr. 1913, pp. 864-865.) Th. R e f f a l s o remarked t h a t t h i s p a r t i c u l a r quote was t a k e n out o f c o n t e x t , b u t he a f f i r m e d t h i s happened o n l y a f t e r B e r n a r d p u b l i s h e d Cezanne's l e t t e r i n 190 7, i n c o n n e c t i o n w i t h t h e development o f Cubism. I n f a c t a l r e a d y , i n 190 4, i n h i s a r t i c l e i n t h e O c c i d e n t , B e r n a r d h i m s e l f used t h i s quote and s w i t c h e d i t s meaning from a l e s s o n i n p e r s p e c t i v e t o one i n m o d e l l i n g . ( See Th. R e f f , Cezanne. The L a t e Work, pp. 46-48 and Th. R e f f , "Cezanne on S o l i d s and Spaces," A r t f o r u m , V o l . 1 6 , Oct. 1977, pp. 34-35.) 9 7 See E. B e r n a r d , "Note r e l a t i v e au symbolisme p i c t u r a l , " L e t t e r s a E m i l e B e r n a r d , B r u s s e l s , 1942, pp. 253-57. B e r n a r d was a g a i n s t d e c o r a t i v e s t y l i z a t i o n ( e s p e c i a l l y G a u g u i n ' s ) , as w e l l as a g a i n s t "academism" ( D a v i d , I n g r e s ) . The l a t t e r recommended t h e use o f a model ( and f o r B e r n a r d t h i s was e q u i v a l e n t w i t h " r e a l i s m " ) and o n l y a subsequent l i n e a r c o r r e c - t i o n ( " l a c o r r e c t i o n " ) o f what amounts t o a "copy." ( See a l s o " L ' e r r e u r de. Cezanne," pp. 522-25.) Cezanne d i d not l i k e I n g r e s ( see Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 305) e i t h e r , t h u s i t i s p o s s i b l e t h a t t h e o p i n i o n " I n g r e s e s t un c l a s s i q u e n u i s i b l e , " ( B e r n a r d , 1904, p. 23) g i v e n by B e r n a r d as coming from Cezanne was not f a r from a u t h e n t i c . F o r t h e r e b u t t a l o f t h e myth t h a t i n Cezanne's p a i n t - i n g s " l i n e does not e x i s t , " see E r i e L o r a n , Cezanne's - 258 - C o m p o s i t i o n , B e r k e l e y , 1963 ( f i r s t ed. 1943), pp. 10-14, and a l s o Th. R e f f , Cezanne. The L a t e Work, p. 49. F o r B e r n a r d ' s o p i n i o n i n 1891, see Ch. I I , P a r t 1, p. 75. B e r n a r d d i d remember s i x t e e n y e a r s l a t e r though, t h a t Cezanne o u t l i n e d t h e o b j e c t s r e p r e s e n t e d w i t h a s t r o n g , " s t y l i s e d " c o n t o u r . ( See Ch. I I , P a r t 1, n.4.) 99 See B e r n a r d , 1904, pp. 23-24. Compare t o P. Gauguin, "Notes S y n t h e t i q u e s , " t r a n s l . H. C h i p p , T h e o r i e s o f Modern A r t , p. 64. ( N.B. t h e more a c c u r a t e date f o r t h e m a n u s c r i p t i s 1884-85.) 1 0 0 See a l s o Ch. I I , P a r t 2, p..179. ± 0 ± T h i s time t h e r e a s o n was d i f f e r e n t t h a n t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s ' one; t h e " p a t c h " was used t o c o n s t r u c t c o l o u r - ed p a t t e r n s . I t i s my o p i n i o n t h a t the. emphasis on "the p a t c h " ( l a tache) was a consequence o f t h e p o p u l a r i t y t h e 18th c e n t u r y p a i n t i n g ( Rococo) was e n j o y i n g a t the t u r n o f the c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e . T h i s p a i n t i n g was "French par e x c e l l e n c e " and t h e i n t e r e s t i n i t c o i n c i d e s w i t h t h e r i s e o f F r e n c h n a t i o n a l i s m a t t h e t i m e . M a r c e l N i c o l l e wrote i n "Les p e i n t r e s f r a n g a i s au X V I I I e s i e c l e " ( a r e v i e w o f t h e book w i t h the same t i t l e by Lady E m i l i a F.S. D i l k e , London, 1899) , La Revue de l ' A r t A n c i e n e t Moderne, V o l . 7 , 1900, p. 149: L'ec,0jl,e f r a n g a i s e de p e i n t u r e du X V I I I e s i e c l e j o u i t a l ' h e u r e a c t u e l l e aupres des amateurs d'une vogue remarquable; l e s noms des p l u s p e t i t s m a i t r e s s o n t r e p e t e s a s a t i e t e , l e u r s o e u v r e s , meme i n s i g n i f i a n t e s , se vendent aisement des p r i x e l e v e s . F r a g o n a r d i s e s p e c i a l l y p r a i s e d a t t h e time because he knew t h e v a l u e o f t h e " p a t c h o f c o l o r . " ( I b i d . , p. 154.) Lady D i l k e ( p. 72) s a i d t h a t F r a g o n a r d had, i n common w i t h o t h e r s o f t h e same s c h o o l , a f i n e p e r c e p t i o n o f t h e v a l u e o f l a t a c h e and a s t r o n g f e e l i n g f o r what i s c a l l e d p a t t e r n i n c o l o u r . She a l s o remarked t h a t , "La t a c h e " i n c o l o u r , f u l f i l s p r e c i s e l y t h a t o f f i c e which an i s o l a t e d ornament may p e r f o r m i n p a t t e r n ; Thus a d e c o r a t i v e p a t t e r n c o u l d be o b t a i n e d w i t h o u t t h e l i n e , which was e x t e n s i v e l y used i n t h e d e c o r a t i v e a r t s ( A r t s Nouveau). The p a t c h o f c o l o r was a f t e r a l l b e t t e r s u i t e d f o r "pure p a i n t i n g . " Cezanne's i n t e r e s t i n t h e 18th c. F r e n c h p a i n t e r s i s w e l l known, and i n h i s l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d o f 27 June 1904 ( L e t t e r s , p. 304) he e x p r e s s e d h i s a d m i r a t i o n f o r C h a r d i n . Cezanne, l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d , 23 Oct. 1905, L e t t e r s , pp. 316-17. To make s u r e t h e r e are no m i s u n d e r s t a n d i n g s ( t h e l e t t e r i s n o t v e r y c l e a r l y w r i t t e n ) I w i l l quote t h i s l e t t e r - 259 - i n F r e n c h ( Cezanne, Correspondance, P a r i s , 1937, p. 277): Or v i e u x , s o i x a n t e - d i x ans e n v i r o n , l e s s e n s a t i o n s c o l o r a n t e s q u i donnent l a l u m i e r e s o n t cause d ' a b s t r a c t i o n s q u i ne me p e r m e t t e n t pas de c o u v r i r ma t o i l e , n i de p o u r s u i v r e l a d e l i m i t a t i o n des o b j e c t s quand l e s p o i n t s de c o n t a c t s o n t t e r i u s , d e T i c a t s ; d'ou i l r e s s o r t que mon image ou t a b l e a u e s t i n c o m p l e t e . D'un a u t r e c o t e l e s p l a n s tombent l e s uns s u r l e s a u t r e s , d'ou e s t s o r t i l e neo- i m p r e s s i o n n i s m e q u i c i r c o n s c r i t l e s c o n t o u r s d'un t r a i t n o i r , d e f a u t q u ' i l f a u t . c o m b a t t r e a t o u t e f o r c e . Or l a n a t u r e c o n s u l t e e nous donne l e s moyens d ' a t t e i n d r e ce b u t . I would l i k e t o p o i n t out t h a t t h e r e f e r e n c e t o N e o - I m p r e s s i o n - ism, "which c i r c u m s c r i b e s t h e c o n t o u r s w i t h a b l a c k l i n e , " t h a t p u z z l e d a r t h i s t o r i a n s o f t h e 20th c e n t u r y , can be under- s t o o d i f we remember t h a t a t t h e t i m e Feneon's c l a s s i f i c a t i o n was not y e t w i d e l y a c c e p t e d . S e u r a t and h i s group c a l l e d themselves a t f i r s t , "Chromo-Luminarists," and i n A. M e l l e r i o ' s book Le Mouvement i d e a l i s t e en p e i n t u r e o f 1896, f o r example, t h e y a r e l i s t e d under t h i s name. Under t h e t i t l e o f Neo- I m p r e s s i o n i s t s were l i s t e d a r t i s t s t h a t , , " t o u t en t e n a n t a 1'Impressionnisme p a r des l i e n s e t r o i t s , ont p a r u i n c l i n e r en quelque p o i n t s v e r s l a f o r m u l e i d e a l i s t e . " Such a r t i s t s were c o n s i d e r e d t o be: S c h u f f e n e c k e r , T o u l o u s e - L a u t r e c , I b e l s , A n q u e t i n . 10 3 See E r n e s t Chesneau, Les C h e f s d ' E c o l e , P a r i s : 1862, pp. 282-83. See a l s o Cezanne's l e t t e r t o P i s s a r r o , o f 24 June 1874 ( L e t t e r s , p. 141), i n w h i c h Cezanne acknowledged t h a t P i s s a r r o " r e p l a c e d m o d e l l i n g by t h e s t u d y o f t o n e s . " 104 E. B e r n a r d , " P a u l Cezanne," 1904, p. 24. There i s no r e a l p r o o f t h a t Cezanne used t h e word "modulate." I f Cezanne d i d use t h e term " t o modulate" as a s u b s t i t u t e f o r " m o d e l l i n g , " most l i k e l y he d i d not have i n mind t h e m o d e l l i n g o f i n d i v i d u a l "forms," b u t what was c a l l e d t h e " m o d e l l i n g o f t h e t a b l e a u . " ( See I , p..'.81.) T h i s i s because t h e c o l o r m o d u l a t i o n s a c h i e v e a c o l o r l s t i c " e f f e c t " t h a t r e p l a c e s t h e c h i a r o s c u r o e f f e c t t h a t c o n s t i t u t e d t h e " m o d e l l i n g o f a t a b l e a u . " 105 See C h a r l e s B l a n c , "Eugene D e l a c r o i x , " Gaz. des B e a u x - A r t s , 1864, p. 114, where he s a i d t h a t D e l a c r o i x used t h e p r i n c i p l e o f " c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n , " o r h i s Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , 1867, p. 60 7, where he r e f e r r e d t o t h i s p r o - cedure as t o "modulate t h e tone on i t s e l f , " o r t h e Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , where he p r a i s e d O r i e n t a l c a r p e t makers and c e r a m i s t s a g a i n , and recommended t h e i r method o f making c o l o u r " v i b r a t e " ( s e e op. c i t . , p. 390). See a l s o Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , p. 40 7, where B l a n c d e s c r i b e d how - 260 - O r i e n t a l s a c h i e v e d harmony w i t h v e r y b r i g h t c o l o u r s , by "passages" between c o n t r a s t i n g hues. B l a n c ' s Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n has been suggest- ed as a s o u r c e o f t h e above mentioned quote from Cezanne, r e f e r r i n g t o t h e academic t e a c h i n g o f p e r s p e c t i v e u s i n g s i m p l e g e o m e t r i c a l volumes. The s u g g e s t i o n was made by C h r i s t o p h e r Gray ( C u b i s t A e s t h e t i c T h e o r i e s , B a l t i m o r e , 196 7, p. 4 9 ) , who d i d not f i n d any l i n k between B l a n c ' s t e x t and Cezanne's " c o l o u r m o d u l a t i o n s , " perhaps because he was l o o k i n g f o r t h e meaning g i v e n by B e r n a r d , t h a t i s , p r i m a r i l y a s u b s t i t u t e f o r " m o d e l l i n g form." He s a i d : On t h e o t h e r hand, h i s c o n c e p t i o n t h a t c o l o r modulates form appears t o be h i s s y n t h e s i s o f t h e i d e a s o f I m p r e s s i o n i s m w i t h h i s i n t e r e s t i n form. 1 0 6 I n h i s "Methode de P. Cezanne" ( 1920, p. 294) men- t i o n e d b e f o r e , B e r n a r d d i d say t h a t Cezanne r e t a i n e d t h i s p r i n c i p l e from D e l a c r o i x : "Tout champ s ' e n r i c h i t du nuancement de s a c o u l o u r p r o p r e . " 107 C a r l o s de C a s t e r a ( s i g n e d " S o l r a c " ) , " R e f l e x i o n s s u r l e C a l o n d'Automne," L ' O c c i d e n t , Dec. 1904, pp. 303-311. The S a l o n d'Automne was founded by a young g e n e r a t i o n o f p a i n t e r s : D e s v a l l i e r e s , P l o t , R o u a u i t , J o u r d a i n . A c c o r d i n g t o some s o u r c e s ( D i e N a b i s und i h r e f r e u n d e , K u n s t h a l l e Manheim, Oct. 1963-Jan. 1964), V u i l l a r d was one o f t h e co- f o u n d e r s . A t t h e F a l l S a l o n o f 1904 Cezanne had a room w i t h 33 p a i n t i n g s . A t t h e same S a l o n were e x h i b i t e d 43 p a i n t i n g s by P u v i s , as w e l l as 3 3 by R e n o i r , 6 2 by Redon and 2 8 by L a u t r e c . 1 0 8 " S o l r a c , " p. 305. 1 0 9 I b i d . , pp. 305-06. 1 1 0 I b i d . , p. 306. Compare t o B e r n a r d ' s a r t i c l e o f 1904 ( see p. 109 and n.88). " S o l r a c " d i d use B e r n a r d ' s t e r m i n - o l o g y , b u t h i s concept o f "pure p a i n t i n g " i s c l o s e r t o t h e u s u a l one i E x c e p t he d i d riot c o n s i d e r t h i s p a i n t i n g as b e i n g " o n l y s e n s o r i a l , " as he c o n s i d e r e d I m p r e s s i o n i s t a r t was. 1 1 1 I b i d . V e n t u r i d i d not mention t h i s s t i l l - l i f e as e x h i b i t e d a t t h i s S a l o n , o n l y a t L i b r e E s t h e t i q u e ( where Cezanne s e n t n i n e p a i n t i n g s ) , t h e S p r i n g 1904. 112 I n f a c t P u v i s d i d use t h e same p r i n c i p l e s borrowed from f r e s c o p a i n t i n g i n h i s e a s e l p a i n t i n g s , which c o u l d be c o n s i d e r e d as d e c o r a t i o n s . T h e i r c o l o r s were such t h a t harmonized w i t h any environment. Cezanne's o r i g i n a l i n t e n - t i o n s were, i n my o p i n i o n , s i m i l a r t o P u v i s ' . - 261 - "Pure p a i n t i n g " showed i t s e m a n c i p a t i o n by employing s t r o n g c o l o r s , f o r example. 1 1 3 " S o l r a c , " p. 30 7. 114 115 116 I b i d . Of c o u r s e , t h i s was o n l y w h i s t f u l l t h i n k i n g . See Ch. I , P a r t 1, pp. 25-26. See Roger Marx, "Les S a l o n s de 1895," Gaz. des Beaux- A r t s , V o l . 1 4 , 1895, p. 22. See a l s o Ch. I , P a r t 2, p. 77. 117 See Roger Marx, "Le S a l o n d'Automne," Gaz. des Beaux- A r t s , V o l . 3 2 , Dec. 1904, p. 462. 1 1 8 I b i d . , p. 459. 119 R e f f , "Cezanne and P o u s s i n , " p. 162, s a i d t h a t t h i s c o n n e c t i o n was f i r s t made by M. D e n i s . R. S h i f f i n " S e e i n g Cezanne," even though he mentioned Marx', a r t i c l e , a l s o m i s s e d t h i s p o i n t and d e c l a r e d t h a t Camoin was t h e f i r s t t o connect Cezanne w i t h P o u s s i n . F o r Marx's c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n o f Cezanne, see "Le S a l o n d'Automn," pp. 462-63. 120 F o r t h e " d e c o r a t i v e " P o u s s i n and C o r o t , see Ch. I , P a r t 2, rt.2 and n.75. I n 1901 t h e E c o l e des B e a u x - A r t s mounted a Daumier e x h i b i t i o n w h i c h was v e r y s u c c e s s f u l and emphasized Daumier as a p a i n t e r , not o n l y as a c a r i c a t u r i s t . As t h e c r i t i c f o r Revue B l a n c h e put i t , " l e c a r i c a t u r i s t e ne s o u f f r e pas du t r i o m p h e de p e i n t r e . " ( See Claude A n e t , " L ' E x p o s i t i o n Daumier," L a Revue B l a n c h e , v.25, May-Aug. 1901, p. 216.) R e v i e w i n g t h e i n d e p e n d a n t s ' e x h i b i t i o n o f 1901, Thadee Natanson w r o t e : ...qu'a l a f i n p r e y a u t 1'Importance de Daumier e t de Cezanne chez q u i l e s d e r n i e r venus ont t a n t a apprendre e t t o u t a d m i r e r . ( Th. Natanson, "Les A r t i s t e s Independants. D'un p e i n t r e du x i x e f r a n g a i s i n c o n n u , e t de quelques-uns q u i i n a u g u r e n t l e x x e , " L a Revue B l a n c h e , V o l . 2 5 , May-Aug. 1901, p. 52.) 121 Roger Marx, 1904, p. 463. T h i s i s p a r t i c u l a r l y t r u e f o r Cezanne's B a t h e r s done around 1900, such as f o r example V.387, o r V.724. The l a t t e r ( now i n t h e B a l t i m o r e Museum o f A r t ) was a c t u a l l y e x h i b i t e d i n Cezanne's r e t r o s p e c t i v e o f t h e 190 4 S a l o n d'Automne. 1 2 2 R. Marx, 1904, p. 464. - 262 - I b i d . 124 Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 313. 125 . D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 181. I n t h i s a r t i c l e Denis r e a c t e d a g a i n s t C. M a u c l a i r who c r i t i c i z e d N e o ^ C l a s s i c i s m and t h e " N a t i o n a l i s t i c P e r i l , " a c c u s i n g t h e i r exponents o f b e i n g r e a c t i o n a r y and r e t r o g r a d e . - 126 See D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p..181 and p. 185. 12 7 M. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 138 ( from "A propos de 1 ' e x p o s i t i o n de C h a r l e s G u e r i n , " L ' O c c i d e n t , March 1905). G u e r i n was a n o t h e r example o f young p a i n t e r c o n s i d e r e d ( t h i s time by D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 140) t o be i n d e b t e d t o b o t h Moreau and Cezanne. 12 8 See D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 1. 129 F r a n c o i s Monod, "Le S a l o n d'Automne," A r t e t D e c o r a t i o n , J u l y - D e c . 1905, V o l . 1 8 , p. 198. 1 3 0 Monod, "Le S a l o n d'Automne." 131 Monod, p. 200. 132 , I b i d . 133 T. . , I b i d . 134 _.. , I b i d . 135 T. . , I b i d . 1 3 6 See Th. R e f f , Cezanne. The Late: Work, p. 28. 137 M. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 197 ( from L ' E r m i t a j e , 15 Nov. 1905). 13 8 Denis d i d connect Cezanne w i t h c l a s s i c i s t t e n d e n c i e s e a r l i e r when f o r example he c l a i m e d Cezanne, l i k e I n g r e s , was concerned w i t h s t y l e . See D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 56 ( from "Le S a l o n de l a S o c i e t e N a t i o n a l e des B e a u x - A r t s , " L a Depeche de T o u l o u s e , 1901). 139 C h a r l e s Camoin, "Equete s u r l e s tendances a c t u e l l e s - 263 - des a r t s p l a s t i q u e s , " Mercure de F r a n c e , V o l . 5 6 , 1 Aug. 1905, p. 353. Camoin w r o t e : I I e s t profondement c l a s s i q u e , e t i l r e p e t e souvent q u ' i l n'a cherche qu'a v i v i f i e r P o u s s i n s u r n a t u r e . I I ne v o i s pas o b j e c t i v e m e n t e t p a r l a t a c h e comme l e s i m p r e s s i o n n i s t e s ; i l d e c h i f f r e l a n a t u r e l e n t e m e n t , p a r 1'ombre e t l a l u m i e r e , q u ' i l exprime en des s e n s a t i o n s de c o u l e u r . Cependant, i l n'a pas d ' a u t r e b u t que c e l u i de f a i r e image Camoin proceeded t h e n t o g i v e q u o t a t i o n s from Cezanne's l e t t e r s a d d r e s s e d t o him, b e g i n n i n g w i t h t h e a d v i c e : "Puisque vous v o i l a a P a r i s e t que l e s M a i t r e s du Louvre vous a t t i r e n t , f a i t e s d'apres l e s grands m a i t r e s d e c o r a t i f s , Veronese e t Rubens, des etudes comme vous f e r i e z d'apres n a t u r e , ce que j e n ' a i su f a i r e qu'incompletement." ( See a l s o Cezanne, l e t t e r o f 3 Feb. 1902, L e t t e r s , p. 282.) 140 D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 196. D e n i s ' own answer i n t h e Mercure i s j u s t as e v a s i v e as t h e one i n L'Echo o f 1891. 141 Denis ( T h e o r i e s , p. 193) d i d not f o r g e t t o remind t h e r e a d e r s t h a t he c a l l e d t h e movement o f 1890 "Neo- t r a d i t i o n i s m , " and t h a t i n f a c t "no o t h e r movement was more c l e a r l y t r a d i t i o n a l i s t . " 142 See T h e o r i e s , p. 192. I n 1903, Denis c a l l e d Gauguin a " P o u s s i n w i t h o u t c l a s s i c a l c u l t u r e " ( T h e o r i e s , p. 166). I n f a c t Gauguin was not " w i t h o u t c l a s s i c a l c u l t u r e , " and e x p r e s s e d h i s a d m i r a t i o n f o r R a p h a e l . ( See Gauguin's 1889 l e t t e r t o E. B e r n a r d i n w h i c h he d e c l a r e d t h a t as opposed t o Van Gogh, he admired I n g r e s , Raphael and Degas: L e t t r e s a E m i l e B e r n a r d , 1942, p. 99.) 143 D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 22 7. 144 „ Enquete...," Mercure de F r a n c e , 15 Aug. 1905, p. 544. 145 E. Bernard ( s i g n e d " F r a n c i s Lepeseur"), "De M i c h e l Ange a Paul Cezanne," La Renovation E s t h e t i q u e , March 1906, p, 253. P i e r r e Hepp, "Sur l e choix des m a i t r e s , " L'Occident, Dec. 1905, p. 265. 147 I b i d . , p.. 264. 148 . . . I b i d . The emphasis on m a t e r i e l l e m e n t i s mine. - 264 - 149 150 151 152 E. B e r n a r d ; "De M i c h e l Ange...," p. 253, I b i d . , p. 257. See Ch. I I , P a r t 1, p. 96 and n.24. B e r n a r d , "De M i c h e l Ange...," p. 258. I n h i s a r t i c l e "La methode de P a u l Cezanne," Mercure de F r a n c e , 1 March 19 20, p. 314 he w i l l c o m p l a i n about t h e " i n u t i l i t y " o f t h e " p a i n t i n g f o r i t s own sake" o r "pure p a i n t i n g . " A l r e a d y i n 1905, i n a more obscure p u b l i c a t i o n , Le P e t i t D a u p h i n o i s , B e r n a r d e x p r e s s e d h i s d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n w i t h Cezanne. ( See V o l l a r d , P a u l Cezanne, p. 121.) 153 M. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 203. ( "Le renoncement de C a r r i e r e . La s u p e r s t i t i o n du t a l e n t , " L ' E r m i t a g e , 15 June 1906.) Denis e x p l a i n s t h a t t h i s concept appeared out o f t h e n e c e s s i t y o f not c o n f u s i n g p a i n t i n g w i t h l i t e r a t u r e , and as a r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t n a t u r a l i s m , b u t one s h o u l d not emphasize o n l y the m a t e r i a l q u a l i t i e s o f an work o f a r t . ( T h e o r i e s , p. 207.) 154 D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 20 8. 155 M. D e n i s , " L 1 I n f l u e n c e de Cezanne," L'Amour de l ' A r t , Dec. 19 20, r e p r i n t e d i n NouveTles T h e o r i e s , p. 118. Hugo d ' A l e s i ( 1849-1906) was a p a i n t e r b o r n i n Romania, known e s p e c i a l l y f o r h i s c o l o r l i t h o g r a p h s p o s t e d i n t h e r a i l w a y s t a t i o n s , r e p r e s e n t i n g p i c t u r e s q u e s i t e s from France o r abroad. I n 1901 he had a p a i n t i n g e x h i b i t i o n a t t h e G a l e r y Georges P e t i t , h i s s m a l l - s c a l e m o u n t a i n - l a n d s - c a p e s r e c e i v i n g f a v o r a b l e comments. ( See t h e column " E x p o s i t i o n e t Concours," Le B u l l e t i n de l ' A r t A n c i e n e t Moderne, V o l . 3 , No. 115, 23 Nov. 1901, pp. 276-77.) 157 See M. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s : "Le S " : o l e i l " ( f i r s t i n L ' E r m i t a g e , 15 Dec. 1906), pp. 212-15. See a l s o T h e o r i e s , p. 154. 15 8 C a m i l l e M a u c l a i r , "Le S a l o n d'Automne," A r t e t D e c o r a t i o n , V o l . 1 9 , Jan.-June 1906, p. 147. 159 See Gustave Kahn, " L e t t r e a un exposant" ( S a l o n dAAutomne), La P h a l a n g e , Nov. 1906, p. 369. 1 6 0 C. M a u c l a i r , A r t e t D e c o r a t i o n , 1906, p. 144 r - 265 - M a u c l a i r , 1906, p. 150. M a u c l a i r admitted t h a t i n h i s youth he was c r i t i c a l of Gauguin, but a f t e r a l l , he s a i d , the T a h i t i a n p a i n t i n g s were b e t t e r than the ones i n B r i t t a n y . 16 2 C h a r l e s Morice, " A r t Moderne" ( i n "Revue de l a q u i n z a i n e " ) , Mercure de France, V o l . 7 0 , Dec. 1907, p. 547. See M. Denis, "Cezanne," T h e o r i e s , p. 253 ( f i r s t i n L'Occident, Sept. 1907). Denis f i r s t mentioned t h i s "quota- t i o n " i n 1906, J o u r n a l , I I , p. 46, Mirbeau h i m s e l f embelished i t even more i n the p r e f a c e of the volume put t o g e t h e r by 0. Mirbeau, Th. Duret, L. Werth and F r . J o u r d a i n , Cezanne, P a r i s : Bernheim-Jeune ed., 1914, p. 9. See a l s o G. G e f f r o y , Monet, 1922, p. 198. 164 165 166 See a l s o Ch. I, P a r t 2, n. 26. Ch. Morice, Mercure, 1907, p. 547. Ch. Morice, Mercure de France, Nov. 1, 1907, "Le V e Salon d'Automne," p. 165. 16 7 I b i d . , p. 164. C h a r l e s Morice i n h i s book Gauguin, P a r i s : F l e u r y , 1919, p. 166, made c l e a r he c o n s i d e r e d Cezanne's s y n t h e t i s t method as b e l o n g i n g together with the g e n e r a l pro- cedure used b y . a l l g r e a t d e c o r a t o r s , which method Puvis de Chavannes, b e f o r e him, and b e f o r e Gauguin and h i s p u p i l s , a p p l i e d t o e a s e l p a i n t i n g . 16 8 Ch. Morice, "Paul. Cezanne," Mercure de France, V o l . 65, p. 591, 15. Feb. 190 7, or Ch. Morice, Quelques Malt/res Modernes, P a r i s : S o c i e t e des T r e n t e , A l b e r t Messein ed., 1914, p. 115. 169 In the Avertissement of h i s 1914 book ( see the above n o t e ) , Morice d e c l a r e d t h a t he c o n s i d e r e d C a r r i e r e , Gauguin and Rodin as the t h r e e e s s e n t i a l " p l a s t i c i n i t i a t o r s " s i n c e Puvis and Manet. Not f a r behind those three he p l a c e d W h i s t l e r , P i s s a r r o , F a n t i n - L a t o u r , C o n s t a n t i n Meunier, Cezanne, Redon, Degas, Monet, Renoir. 170 See Ch. I I , P a r t 1, p. 126 and n.162. 171 See Morice, "P. Cezanne," Mercure, pp. 591-93. 172 I b i d . , pp. 593-94. T h i s Tendresse Raisonne was a somehow "fuzzy" concept, i m p l y i n g a " p r i n c i p l e of humanity" ( which he no doubt found i n C a r r i e r e ) . - 266 - 173 M. Denis, "Cezanne," T h e o r i e s ( f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n L'Occident, Sept. 1907), p. 238. 174 See the same a r t i c l e , T h e o r i e s , p. 247. In the a r t i c l e w r i t t e n i n L'Occident two years l a t e r ( May 1909) , "De Gauguin e t de Van Gogh au C l a s s i c i s m e , " Denis d e c l a r e d t h a t s i n c e 1890 an e v o l u t i o n i n f a v o r of "order" took p l a c e i n p a i n t i n g . ( T h e o r i e s , p. 258.) On the p o l i t i c a l - i d e o l o g i c a l l e v e l he mentioned the c a l l f o r t r a d i t i o n a l i s m launched by people from o p p o s i t e camps, such as the monarchists of the A c t i o n F r a n g a i s e ( Maurras) and s y n d i c a l i s t s r e p u b l i - cans ( B a r r e s ) . ( See T h e o r i e s , p. 259 and p. 264.) Denis' own brand of " c l a s s i c i s m " i s a k i n to Mithouard's, t h a t i s a "modern c l a s s i c i s m " t h a t o n l y borrows g e n e r a l p r i n c i p l e s from the past ( the sense of "order" being the most important one), without a s k i n g f o r c l a s s i c a l " p e r f e c t i o n . " ( See T h e o r i e s , pp. 265-66.) 1 7 5 See T h e o r i e s , p. 171 (: 1904) and p. 267 ( 1909) . For " S t y l e " see'-".:I, P a r t i ; , n. 114. Denis' l a t e s t d e f i n i t i o n of S t y l e was "order achieved by means of s y n t h e s i s " ( " l e S t y l e , c ' e s t - a - d i r e l ' o r d r e par l a synthese," T h e o r i e s , p. 239) . 176 177 178 See T h e o r i e s , p. 26 2. See Ch. I, P a r t 1, p. 16 and pp. 38-39;, 41-43, The t r a n s l a t i o n i s mine. I d i d not use R.E. F r y ' s t r a n s l a t i o n ( B u r l i n g t o n Magazine, V o l . 1 6 , 1910). I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g to note though t h a t i n h i s " I n t r o d u c t o r y Note," Roger F r y d e c l a r e d t h a t the "new t e n d e n c i e s " i n Franch a r t , " T h i s new c o n c e p t i o n of a r t , i n which the d e c o r a t i v e elements preponderate at the.expense of the r e p r e s e n t a t i v e , " was a c t u a l l y "the d i r e c t outcome of the I m p r e s s i o n i s t movement." He added: " I t was among I m p r e s s i o n i s t s t h a t i t took i t s r i s e , and yet i t i m p l i e s the d i r e c t c o n t r a r y of the I m p r e s s i o n i s t conception of a r t . " F r y confirmed Denis' c l a i m t h a t Cezanne was the i n i t i a t o r of the 1890 movement: I t i s g e n e r a l l y admitted t h a t the great and o r i g i n a l genius, - f o r recent c r i t i c i s m has the courage to a c c l a i m him as such - who r e a l l y s t a r t e d t h i s movement, the most promising and f r u i t f u l of modern times, was Cezanne. ( B u r l . Mag., V o l . 1 6 , 1910, p. 207.) Two years e a r l i e r , F r y ( " L e t t e r s to the E d i t o r : The L a s t Phase of Impressionism," The B u r l i n g t o n Magazine, March 1908, p. 375) t a l k e d about the " p u r e l y d e c o r a t i v e elements of design" i n Cezanne's work and d i d not see any s i g n i f i c a n t d i f f e r e n c e between him and Gauguin. He s a i d : Two other a r t i s t s , M. Cezanne and Paul - 267 - Gauguin, a r e n o t r e a l l y I m p r e s s i o n i s t s a t a l l . . . They have a l r e a d y a t t a i n e d t o t h e c o n t o u r , and a s s e r t i t s v a l u e w i t h keen emphasis. They f i l l the c o n t o u r w i t h w i l f u l l y s i m p l i f i e d and unmodulated masses, and r e l y f o r t h e i r whole e f f e c t upon a w e l l - c o n s i d e r e d c o - o r d i n a t i o n o f the s i m p l e s t e l e m e n t s . Only mUch l a t e r was F r y t o make the d i s t i n c t i o n between "the d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t e r whose main o b j e c t i s the o r g a n i z a t i o n o f h i s d e s i g n upon t h e s u r f a c e " and " p a i n t e r s [such as Cezanne! t o whom t h e p l a s t i c c o n s t r u c t i o n i s a l l - i m p o r t a n t . " ( See R. F r y , Cezanne: A Study o f h i s Development, New York: Hogarth P r e s s , 1927, p. 50.) 179 M. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 239. I b i d . , p. 246. See a l s o pp. 266-67 ( 1909). 180 181 182 I b i d . , p. 244 I b i d . , p. 170 ( from "De l a gaucherie des P r i m i t i f s , " Les A r t s de l a V i e , J u l y 1904). Denis r e f e r r e d t o t h i s a r t i c l e when he e x p l a i n e d the "gaucheries" of Celzanne and h i s d i s c i p l e s and i m i t a t o r s ( see T h e o r i e s , p. 246). Denis d i s - t i n g u i s h e d between " h i e r a t i c " p a i n t e r s ( Byzantine) and P r i m i t i v e s ( G i o t t o ) . See n.3, above. 184 See a l s o Verkade's comments i n Denis, J o u r n a l , I I , 1907, p. 62. 185 186 Denis, T h e o r i e s , p. 171. I t i s t r u e t h a t even then, he d i d not want to " p i e r c e the w a l l s " with h i s p a i n t i n g s , s i n c e always avoided a look i n t o the f a r d i s t a n c e . In V.4 5 f o r example, a house a t the end of the s t r e e t b l o c k s the view. In h i s a r t i c l e , C h r i s t o p h e r Gray, "Cezanne's use of P e r s p e c t i v e , " C o l l e g e A r t J o u r n a l , Vol.19. N o . l , 1959, pp. 54- 64, demonstrated Cezanne's use of p e r s p e c t i v e on a l a t e r p a i n t i n g : La Route Tournante a l a Roche-Guyon, V.441, 1885. He p o i n t e d out t h a t the l i b e r t i e s ( from the p o i n t of view of l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e ) t h a t Cezanne took were l i c e n c e d by contem- porary manuals, one of them being Ch. Blanc's Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n . Gray however d i d not p o i n t out t h a t Blanc e s p e c i a l l y recommended such m o d i f i c a t i o n s f o r the purpose of d e c o r a t i o n . - 268 - 18 7 See " I n t r o d u c t i o n , " n.5. 18 8 I b i d . I n h i s " C o n v e r s a t i o n " w i t h Cezanne, f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n 1920 ( see Souvenirs....Une c o n v e r s a t i o n avec Cezanne, P a r i s : M i c h e l , 1926, pp. 94-95), E. B e r n a r d w h i l e r e l a t i n g Cezanne's a d v i c e : "One s h o u l d s t u d y f i r s t on geo- m e t r i c a l f i g u r e s : t h e cone, t h e cube, the c y l i n d e r , t h e sphere" i n t e r c a l a t e d h i s own knowledge on t h e s u b j e c t o f l e geometrique, l e g e o m e t r a l and l e p e r s p e c t i f . B e r n a r d i m p l i e d t h a t t h e y formed t h e b a s i s o f i n s t r u c t i o n i n t h e o l d days, but not a t t h e time o f h i s c o n v e r s a t i o n w i t h Cezanne. 189 See Ch. I , P a r t 1, p. 33. 190 See D e n i s , "Cezanne," T h e o r i e s , p. 243 and p. 251. 191 See f o r example T h e o r i e s , p. 165. 192 T h e o r i e s , p. 251. 1 9 3 See Ch. I I , P a r t 1, pp. 111-12. 194 T h e o r i e s , p. 248. 195 T h e o r i e s , p. 249 ( n o t u n d e r l i n e d i n D e n i s ' t e x t ) . 196 T h e o r i e s , p. 171. See a l s o 182, above. 197 T h e o r i e s , p. 171. Denis a l s o s a i d : "Le s c u l p t e u r de 1'Ecole de P h i d i a s n'esquive pas un modele; en s i m p l i f i a n t i l ne supprime r i e n . . . " 198 See T h e o r i e s , p. 246 and 252. 1 9 9 T h e o r i e s , p. 249. 2 ^ I b i d . See a l s o D e n i s ' d e f i n i t i o n o f a p a i n t i n g i n 1890, T h e o r i e s , p. 1. 201 T h e o r i e s , p. 249. Denis c l a i m s Cezanne t o l d him he wanted " t o do w i t h c o l o r what i s done i n b l a c k and w h i t e w i t h t h e stump ( t o r t i l l o n ) " and t h a t he s u b s t i t u t e d " c o l o r " f o r " l i g h t . " I n a l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d ( 2 3 Dec. 1904, L e t t e r s , p. 310), Cezanne d e c l a r e d t h a t " L i g h t ... does not e x i s t f o r t h e p a i n t e r " and t h a t "the p l a n e s r e p r e s e n t e d by c o l o r s e n s a t i o n s " can be c l a s s i f i e d as " l i g h t , h a l f tone o r q u a r t e r tone." Denis c l a i m e d though t h a t Cezanne never used t h e word " v a l u e s , " - 269 - because " h i s system" e x c l u d e d " r e l a t i o n s o f v a l u e s i n the sense used i n s c h o o l s " ( T h e o r i e s , p. 250). Yet i n a l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d ( 27 June 1904, L e t t e r s , p. 305) Cezanne used t h e word " v a l u e s " w h i l e e x p l a i n i n g t o B e r n a r d C h a r d i n ' s method. D e n i s , J o u r n a l , I , Sept. 1897, p. 121. See T h e o r i e s , pp. 205-06, n . l . Cezanne, l e t t e r t o C. P i s s a r r o , 24 June 1874, L e t t e r s , 202 203 204 p. 141. ~- 205 I d i s a g r e e w i t h R i c h a r d S h i f f ( " S e e i n g Cezanne," C r i t i c a l I n q u i r y , Summer 1978, pp. 769-808) who argued f o r an " I m p r e s s i o n i s t " Cezanne ( as opposed t o a " S y m b o l i s t " one) and c o n s i d e r e d t h a t t h e f l a t n e s s o f h i s p a i n t i n g s i s due t o t h e a t m o s p h e r i c l i g h t e f f e c t . Cezanne d i d use t h i s e f f e c t i n t h e f o l i a g e only,, b u t h i s method o f o r d e r e d h a t c h i n g i s d i f f e r e n t from t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t d i v i s i o n o f t o n e . To n e g l e c t t h e e f f e c t o f r e f l e c t e d l i g h t i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s a l t o g e t h e r , though as Denis d i d ( because he d i d not want t o p r e s e n t Cezanne as r e p r o d u c i n g " l i g h t " o r b e i n g a n a l y t i c a l as the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s ) i s wrong. Cezanne h i m s e l f , who wrote i n one l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d t h a t " l i g h t does not e x i s t f o r t h e p a i n t e r " ( see n.201, a b o v e ) , wrote t o him i n a n o t h e r one: "Draw, b u t i t i s t h e r e f l e c t i o n which e n v e l o p s ; l i g h t , t h r o u g h t h e g e n e r a l r e f l e c t i o n , i s t h e e n v e l o p e . " ( L e t t e r s , p. 316.) 206 D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 250. 207 I b i d . T h i s q u o t a t i o n was a l s o used by de Goncourt b r o t h e r s i n t h e i r a r t i c l e on C h a r d i n . See E. and J . de Goncourt, " C h a r d i n , " G a z e t t e des B e a u x - A r t s , V o l . 1 6 , 1864, p. 166, as w e l l as L ' A r t du X V I I I e s i e c l e , second ed., 1873, P a r i s : R a p i l l y , V o l . 1 , pp. 173-74. Cezanne's s p e c i a l i n t e r e s t i n C h a r d i n , as w e l l as h i s a c q u a i n t a n c e w i t h G o n c o u r t s ' w r i t - i n g s i s e v i d e n t from h i s l e t t e r s . 208 209 112-13. 210 D e n i s , ( T h e o r i e s , p. 250) s a i d : Le volume t r o u v e done chez Cezanne son e x p r e s s i o n dans une gamme de t e i n t s , dans une s e r i e de t a c h e s : ces t a c h e s se succedent par c o n t r a s t e s ou a n a l o g i e s s e l o n que l a forme s ' i n t e r r o m p t ou se c o n t i n u e . C ' e t a i t ce q u ' i l l u i p l a i s a i t d ' a p p e l e r moduler p l u t o t que modeler. See a l s o my d i s c u s s i o n o f B e r n a r d ' s a r t i c l e , on pp. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 251. - 270 - In such a b i n d were f o r example the a r t i s t s R.P. R i v i e r e and J.F. Schnerb ( the second one was a l s o an a r t c r i t i c ) , who v i s i t e d Cezanne i n A i x i n January 1905, and pub- l i s h e d an a r t i c l e on him i n 1907. They b e l i e v e d t h a t Cezanne's whole oeuvre i s " a n a l y s i s w i t h a view to s y n t h e s i s " and " o b s e r v a t i o n d i r e c t e d to a purpose t h a t i s s c i e n t i f i c r a t h e r than d e c o r a t i v e . " ( R.P. R i v i e r e and J.F. Schnerb, " L ' A t e l i e r de.Cezanne," Grande Revue, V o l . 4 6 , 25 Dec. 1907, p. 816.) They a l s o wrote ( p. 813): Cezanne ne c h e r c h a i t pas. a r e p r e s e n t e r l e s formes par une l i g n e . Le contour n ' e x i s t a i t pour l u i qu'en t a n t que l i e u ou une forme f i n i t e t ou une autre forme commence...Les t r a i t s n o i r s q u i cernent souvent ses p e i n t u r e s n ' e t a i e n t pas pour Cezanne un element d e s t i n e a s'ajouteur a l a c o u l e u r , mais simplement une maniere de reprendre p l u s f a c i l e m e n t 1'ensemble d'une forme par l e contour avant de l a modeler par l a c o u l e u r . The emphasis on avant i s mine. Denis s a i d t h a t Cezanne out- l i n e d "the form" a f t e r i t was modelled by c o l o r g r a d a t i o n s ( see T h e o r i e s , p. 251). In any event, Denis as w e l l as R i v i e r e and Schnerb wanted t o minimize the s i g n i f i c a n c e of the dark o u t l i n e s . Recent a r t h i s t o r i a n s c o n s i d e r R i v i e r e ' s and Schnerb's testimony as "unbiased." Th. R e f f ( "Cezanne and Poussin," p. 158) t h i n k s t h a t t h e i r s i s "the most r e l i a b l e o f a l l accounts" because they were "Unbiased by t h e i r own a e s t h e t i c programme, y e t competent to d i s c u s s t e c h n i c a l problems." But why would " i m p r e s s i o n i s t print-makers," as Reff d e s c r i b e s them, be l e s s b i a s e d than o t h e r s ? R e f f a l s o remarked i n a note: "Although f a m i l i a r w i t h Bernard's s o u v e n i r s , they i n s i s t upon t h e i r independence." Indeed they claimed ( p. 812, n.l) to have a l - ready w r i t t e n t h r e e q u a r t e r s of t h e i r a r t i c l e when E. Bernard's "Souvenirs sur Paul Cezanne e t l e t t r e s i n e d i t e s " were p u b l i s h e d i n Mercure de France ( V o l . 6 9 , Sept.-Oct. 190 7 ) , but they a l s o admitted having read Bernard's a r t i c l e of 1891, as w e l l as the one i n L'Occident of 1904. R i v i e r e and Schnerb c o n s i d e r e d Bernard's judgement to be " i n c r e a s i n g l y c l a i r - v o y a n t . " Indeed, there i s no doubt from the a r t i c l e t h a t they were i n f l u e n c e d by Bernard, and a l s o by Denis. They d i d have the language to d i s c u s s " t e c h n i c a l problems," t h i s i s t r u e , but i n f a c t they repeated the same t h i n g s Bernard and Denis s a i d . At l e a s t they d i d not use the n o t i o n "modulation of volumes" as a s u b s t i t u t e f o r a l l "modelling" i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s , but o n l y the e x p r e s s i o n s "modelling w i t h c o l o r " or " r e l i e f i n c o l o r . " They used i n t e n s i v e l y Bernard's concept of the n e c e s s i t y f o r the p a i n t e r to e x t r a c t "the laws of nature," and a l s o combined i t w i t h Bernard's s a y i n g about Cezanne ( "Souvenirs," Mercure, 16 Oct. 1907, p. 395): L ' i d e e de beaute n ' e t a i t pas en l u i , i l n ' a v a i t que c e l l e de v g r i t e . I I i n s i s t a i t sur l a n e c e s s i t e d'un o p t i q u e . e t d'une l o g i q u e . - 271 - Thus t h e y a r r i v e d a t t h e c o n c l u s i o n mentioned b e f o r e ( p. 816 o f t h e i r a r t i c l e ) . 212 Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 351. 213 • • Cezanne, Correspondance, p. 265. See t r a n s l a t i o n i n L e t t e r s , p. 306. Cezanne i n s i s t e d t h a t each o b j e c t had t o be m o d e l l e d , b u t n o t a f t e r a r e g u l a r g e o m e t r i c a l s o l i d . 214 215 216 217 218 219 220 Denis d e s c r i b e d Cezanne as such ( T h e o r i e s , p. 252) C 1 e s t l e P o u s s i n de 1 1 i m p r e s s i o n n i s m e . I I a l a f i n e s s e de p e r c e p t i o n d'un p a r i s i e n e t i l e s t f a s t u e u x e t abondant comme un d e c o r a t e u r i t a l i e n . I I e s t ordonne comme un f r a n g a i s e t f i e v r e u x comme un e s p a g n o l . C'est un C h a r d i n de decadence, e t p a r f o i s i l depasse C h a r d i n . I I y a du Greco en l u i , e t souvent i l a l a s a n t e de Veronese. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , pp. 246-47. D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 246. I b i d , p. 251. I b i d . See D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , pp. 246-47. Denis ( T h e o r i e s , p. 247) s a i d : Les oeuvres des a r t i s t e s . d ' a u t r e f o i s r e s t e n t pour nous un c r i t e r i u m c e r t a i n : n'en cherchon pas d ' a u t r e . C'est p a r c e que des c r i t i q u e s e n t h o u s i a s t e s ont p r e f e r e Cezanne a C h a r d i n e t a Veronese, q u ' i l c o n v i e n t de r e c o n n a i t r e en l u i des l a c u n e s , e t d'avouer avec s i m p l i c i t e q u ' i l a s u b i l e c o n t r e - c o u p du d e s o r d r e du n o t r e temps. E. B e r n a r d , " S o u v e n i r s . . . , " Mercure de F r a n c e , 16 Oct. 1907, p. 396, o r S o u v e n i r s . . . Une C o n v e r s a t i o n . . . , P a r i s : M i c h e l , 1926, p. 24. 222 "Tonal v a l u e s " are t h e ones o b t a i n e d by m i x i n g v a r i o u s hues w i t h b l a c k and w h i t e . " C o l o r v a l u e s " r e s i d e s o l e l y on the i n t r i n s i c d i f f e r e n c e s i n v a l u e between d i f f e r e n t c o l o u r s . - 272 - 223 E- B e r n a r d , " S o u v e n i r s s u r P a u l Cezanne," Mercure de F r a n c e , 16 Oct. 1907, p. 626 o r S o u v e n i r s . . . , 1926, p. 70. 224 " S o u v e n i r s . . . , " M e r c u r e , p. 626 o r S o u v e n i r s . . . , p. 71. 2 25 I b i d . B e r n a r d p r o b a b l y based h i s t h e o r y on Cezanne's l e t t e r o f 23 Oct. 1905 ( see Ch. I I , P a r t 1, n.102). He a l s o mentioned Cezanne's c o n s t a n t p r e o c c u p a t i o n t o f i n d a way t o see t h e " v a l u e s " b e t t e r . I n t h e l e t t e r o f 27 June 1904, Cezanne was s i m p l y r e l a t i n g t o him C h a r d i n ' s method. ( S e e Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 305.) E. B e r n a r d , " S o u v e n i r s . . . , " M e r c u r e , p. 627 o r S o u v e n i r s . . . , p. 72. B e r n a r d i n s i s t e d on d e f i n i n g what " c l a s s i c a l " meant s i n c e t h e word was used and abused a t t h e t i m e : C l a s s i q u e s i g n i f i e I c i : q u i e s t en r a p p o r t avec l a t r a d i t i o n . A i n s i Cezanne d i s a i t : "Imaginex P o u s s i n r e f a i t e n t i e r e m e n t s u r n a t u r e , v o i l a l e . c l a s s i q u e que j ' e n t e n d s . " I I ne s ' a g l t pas en e f f e t de t e r r a s s e r l e s Romantiques, mais de r e t r o u v e r ce que l e s Romantiques eux-memes a v a i e n t : l e s r e g i e s s o l i d e s des grands m a i t r e s . 22 7 E. B e r n a r d , S o u v e n i r s . . . , p. 31. 22 8 ... I b i d . 229 The f a c t t h a t asquet ( Cezanne, p. 75) r e l a t e d t h a t Cezanne spoke w i t h sympathy o f Gauguin and van Gogh p r o b a b l y does not c a r r y much w e i g h t . But a l o o k a t Gauguin's p a i n t i n g s , e s p e c i a l l y t h o s e from T a h i t i w h i c h were a p p r e c i a t e d even by G e f f r o y ( see' " P a u l Gauguin," L ' A r t .Moderne, No. 8, 21 Feb. 1895, p. 62) who c o u l d d i s c e r n i n them "the m o d e l l i n g o f a form," r e v e a l s t h e p l a i n t r u t h t h a t t h e y were n o t a l l t h a t " f l a t . " Only a f a i r l y s m a l l p e r c e n t a g e o f Gauguin's p a i n t i n g s were s t r i c t l y C l o i s o n i s t , and t h e y were done a f t e r a l l under t h e i n f l u e n c e o f B e r n a r d h i m s e l f , as t h e l a t t e r o f t e n p r e v i o u s - l y s a i d . D i d he not c l a i m f o r h i m s e l f t h e t i t l e o f i n v e n t o r o f C l o i s o n i s m ? 230 E. B e r n a r d , " S o u v e n i r s . . . , " M e r c u r e , 1907, p. 626 o r S o u v e n i r s , p. 70. 231 E. B e r n a r d , " R e f l e c t i o n s a propos du S a l o n d'Automne," L a R e n o v a t i o n Es t h e t i q u e , . Dec. 1907, p. 62. -273 - I b i d . , p. 60. Now B e r n a r d uses the word " d e c o r a t i v e " i n a p e j o r a t i v e sense. 233 E. B e r n a r d , "La Technique de P a u l Cezanne," L'Amour de l ' A r t , Dec. 1920, p. 278. Thus B e r n a r d a r r i v e d a g a i n a t s i m i l a r c o n c l u s i o n s w i t h t h e 1891 ones, o n l y t h i s time w i t h a p e j o r a t i v e c o n n o t a t i o n . - 2.74 - C h a p t e r I I , P a r t 2 1 See Ch. I , P a r t 1, p. 27 and n.45. 2 See E m i l e Z o l a , S a l o n s , ed. F.W.J. Hemmmgs and Robert J . N i e s s , Geneve, P a r i s : L i b r . M i n a r d , 1959, pp. 148-49, and p. 123. 3 See f o r example Z o l a ' s comments on P i s s a r r o i n E m i l e Z o l a , "Mon S a l o n ( 1868)," r e p r i n t e d i n Le Bon Combat. De C o u r b e t aux I m p r e s s i o n n i s t e s , ed. J e a n - P a u l B o u i l l o n , P a r i s : Hermann, 19 74, p. 10 7. 4 Z o l a even c o n s i d e r e d t h a t C o r o t ' s "foggy e f f e c t s " b r o u g h t him c l o s e t o t h e "dreamers and i d e a l i s t s . " See Le Bon Combat, p. 118. 5' F o r a d e t a i l e d d i s c u s s i o n o f t h i s theme i n Cezanne's work see Th. R e f f , "Cezanne, F l a u b e r t , S t . Anthony, and t h e Queen o f Sheba," A r t B u l l e t i n , V o l . 4 4 , 1962, pp. 113-125. 6 See Ch. I I , P a r t 1, p. 94. F o r example Ch. B l a n c recommended: . . . l e s f i g u r e s f a b u l e u s e s , h e r o i q u e s ou romanesques, dont l e s a c t i o n s ne s o n t pas b i e n d e f i n i e s , dont l e costume e s t a r b i t r a i r e , e t q u i h a b i t e n t l e s c o n t r e e s de l a m y t h o l o g i e , l e pays des a v e n t u r e s c h i m e r i q u e s . ( Ch. B l a n c , Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , p. 96.) 8 E r n e s t Chesneau, Les Chefs d ' e c o l e , P a r i s : D i d i e r e t c L i b r a i r e s - E d i t e u r s , 1862, e s p e c i a l l y pp. 164-65. Chesneau d i d not approve o f t h e complete e l i m i n a t i o n o f the " i d e a l " i n R e a l i s t p a i n t i n g . He c o n s i d e r e d t h a t a dose o f i d e a l i z a t i o n was n e c e s s a r y f o r t h e a e s t h e t i c needs o f t h e human s o u l , and d e c l a r e d : Le r e a l i s m e , au c o n t r a i r e , t e l qu'on essaye de 1'imposer a u j o u r d ' h u i , e n . r e j e t a n t f o r m e l l e m e n t t o u t e i n s p i r a t i o n i d e a l e , se condamne p a r c e l a s e u l a une p a r a l y s i e p a r t i e l l e . ( E. Chesneau, Les C h e f s , p. 307.) 9 See Ch. I , P a r t 1, p. 45 and n.104. - 275 - E. Chesneau, L ' E d u c a t i o n de 1 ' a r t i s t e , 1881, p. 276. A c c o r d i n g t o Chesneau, Theodule R i b o t had b o t h "temperament" and " e s p r i t . " 1 1 E. Chesneau, L ' E d u c a t i o n . . . , p. 273. 12 R e c e n t l y , M. V i r g i n i a B. B e t t e n d o r f , ( "Cezanne's E a r l y R e a l i s m : ' S t i l l L i f e w i t h B r e a d and Eggs' Reexamined," A r t s Magazine, J a n . 1982, pp. 138-141), a l s o argued f o r Cezanne's S t i l l L i f e s c o n n e c t i o n w i t h t h e " R e a l i s t s " such as R i b o t and B o n v i n , as w e l l as w i t h t h e C h a r d i n r e v i v a l , e m p h a s i z i n g t h e l a c k o f l i t e r a r y a s s o c i a t i o n s , t h e c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s o f "'pure' p a i n t i n g , " and t h e " c l a s s i c a l s i m p l i c i t y and geometry o f C h a r d i n " i n a l l t h e s e p a i n t i n g s . 13 14 15 16 17 E. Chesneau, L ' E d u c a t i o n . . . , p. 283, I b i d . , pp. 26-27. P. Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 142. E. Chesneau, L ' E d u c a t i o n . . . , p. 54. I b i d . , pp. 120-21. Chesneau i s a g a i n s t t r a d i t i o n a l i s t a e s t h e t i c s ( p. 7 3 ) , a g a i n s t academic i n s t r u c t i o n a t t h e E c o l e , "where t h e a n t i r e a l i s t t h e o r i e s were p r o f e s s e d and even pushed t o t h e extreme where beauty was concerned" ( p. 22 3 ) . A t t h e same t i m e , t h e c r i t i c , w h i l e s t r e s s i n g t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f o b s e r v a t i o n o f r e a l i t y , p r a i s e d " i m a g i n a t i o n " ( p. 226). 18 I b i d . , p. 46. 19 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d , 12 May 1904, L e t t e r s , p. 302. T h i s was a c t u a l l y a w a r n i n g t o B e r n a r d h i m s e l f , who d e l i g h t e d i n s p e c u l a t i o n s and t r i e d t o h a n d l e b o t h w r i t i n g on a r t and p a i n t i n g . Cezanne's a d v i c e a f t e r he r e a d B e r n a r d ' s a r t i c l e on h i m s e l f i n L ' O c c i d e n t was: "Don't be an a r t c r i t i c , but. p a i n t , , t h e r e l i e s s a l v a t i o n . " ( L e t t e r t o B e r n a r d , 25 J u l y 1904, L e t t e r s , p. 306). 20 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d , 25 J u l y 1904, L e t t e r s , p. 306. 21 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o Z o l a , 24 Sept. 1878, L e t t e r s , p. 168. 22 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d , 12 May 1904, L e t t e r s , p. 302. - 276 - 23 Cezanne, l e t t e r to Bernard, 26 May 1904, Letters, p. 30 3. 24 Ibid. For Mallarme see Paula G i l b e r t Lewis, The Aesthetics of Stephane Mallarme i n Relation to His Public, New Jersey, London: Associated Univ. Press, Inc., 1976, pp. 58-59. Chesneau also deplored the separation between Art and people at the time; he did not believe that art should normally addressed only to an e l i t e ( see L'Education..., p. 8). 25 Camille Mauclair, "La Reforme de l ' A r t Decoratif en France," La Nouvelle Revue, Vol.98, Jan.-Feb., 1896, p. 737. Mauclair, pointing out that the opening of the section of decorative and i n d u s t r i a l arts at the Salon at the Champ de Mars was due mainly to Roger Marx's e f f o r t s , described him as "the most perspicacious and the most i n t e l l i g e n t of the amateurs of modern a r t . " 7 fi See Ch. I I , Part 1, p. 117 and ri.124. In a l e t t e r to Bernard ( 27 June 1904, Letters, p. 304) he wrote: "...I ought to make ten good studies and s e l l them at a. high p r i c e , as amateur c o l l e c t o r s are speculating on them." 27 See also Chapter I, Part 2, e s p e c i a l l y Mellerio's com- parison between a r e a l i s t and an i d e a l i s t painter ( n.10). Charles Morice, r e f e r r i n g to Impressionism, said that i n t h i s system that excludes the process of s e l e c t i o n , the thought, the sentiment, "the a r t i s t renounces, by p r i n c i p l e , the composition, decoration, expression, s t y l e . " ( Ch. Morice, Gauguin, Paris: H..Floury, 1919, p. 136.) 2 8 The subject of "temperament" i s a thesis topic i n i t - s e l f ( one such thesis was written by Eustathia Costopoulos at Univ. of Chicago - mentioned i n R. S h i f f , iri"The End of I m p r e s s i o n i s m . p . 376, n.64.) The fact that the "temperament" was a concept used i n a m a t e r i a l i s t i c framework, and was p h y s i o l o g i c a l l y determined, was expressed by Serusier: Aux epoques materialistes, on a attache une grande importance aux causes physiologiques resumes dans l e mot "temperament," qui devait tout expliquer, puisqu'on e c a r t a i t systematiquement toute influence psychique. ( Paul Serusier, A B C de l a peinture, Paris: Floury, 1942, f i r s t published i n 19 21, written much e a r l i e r , p. 11.) Cezanne's d e f i n i t i o n of "temperament" was: "creative force" ( see for example Cezanne, l e t t e r to Zola, 1878, Letters, p. 156). 29 P. Cezanne, l e t t e r to Roger Marx, 23 Jan. 1905, Letters, p. 313. The emphasis i s mine. - 277 - 30 F o r example, i n a l e t t e r t o L o u i s Aurenehe ( 25 J a n . 1904), Cezanne w r o t e : Because, i f t h e s t r o n g f e e l i n g [ s e n s a t i o n i n t h e F r e n c h o r i g i n a l ] f o r n a t u r e - and c e r t a i n l y I have t h a t v i v i d l y - i s t h e n e c e s s a r y b a s i s f o r a l l a r t i s t i c c o n c e p t i o n on which r e s t s t h e grandeur and beauty o f a l l f u t u r e work, t h e knowledge o f t h e means o f e x p r e s s i n g our emotion i s no l e s s e s s e n t i a l , and i s o n l y t o a c q u i r e d t h r o u g h v e r y l o n g e x p e r i e n c e . ( Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 299; my emphasis.) See a l s o n.47, below. 31 Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 172. Compare t o B a u d e l a i r e ' s d e f i n i t i o n o f Romanticism as "a mode o f f e e l i n g . " ( See Ch. B a u d e l a i r e , "The S a l o n o f 1847," t r a n s l a t e d i n E l i s a b e t h G i l m o r e H o l t , From t h e C l a s s i c i s t s t o t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , New Y o r k , 1966, p. 175). As I w i l l i n d i c a t e l a t e r , Cezanne admired B a u d e l a i r e v e r y much, e s p e c i a l l y as an a r t c r i t i c . Z o l a h i m s e l f borrowed from B a u d e l a i r e s e l e c t i v e l y , d i s c a r d i n g whatever was i n c o n t r a d i c t i o n w i t h p o s i t i v i s m . 32 Cezanne, L e t t e r s , pp. 173-74; my emphasis. See a l s o C h a p t e r IT, P a r t 1, p. 125 and n.156, on M. D e n i s ' i n s i s t a n c e t h a t Cezanne d i d not " r e p r o d u c e , " b u t " r e p r e s e n t e d " l i g h t . 33 See Cezanne, l e t t e r t o h i s son, 3 Aug. 1906, L e t t e r s , p. 321. See a l s o Leo L a r q u i e r , Le Dimanche avec P a u l Cezanne, P a r i s , 1925, p. 54 and pp. 59-61. 34 T h i s p a i n t i n g , which i s i n Moscow, i s V.90, d a t e d by V e n t u r i 1869-71. A c c o r d i n g t o D o r i v a l i t c o u l d not have been p a i n t e d b e f o r e 1868; t h e o t h e r two e a r l i e r v e r s i o n s were p a i n t e d i n 1866 and 1867, r e s p e c t i v e l y , as i s e v i d e n t i n l e t t e r s from M a r i o n t o M o r s t a t t . ( B e r n a r d D o r i v a l , Cezanne, P a r i s , 1948, p. 29.) The f i r s t v e r s i o n i s mentioned a l s o m Cezanne, L e t t e r s ( L e t t e r w r i t t e n by A. G u i l l e m e t w i t h a P o s c r i p t by Cezanne, 2 Nov. 1866), p. 117. ( Rewald w r o n g l y i d e n t i f i e d t h i s p a i n t i n g i n t h e f o o t n o t e as V.90.) On Cezanne's l o v e f o r Wagner see a l s o Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 103 and p. 121. 35 See Theodore R e f f , "Cezanne, F l a u b e r t , S t . Antony, and t h e Queen o f Sheba," A r t B u l l e t i n , V o l . 4 4 , 196 2, p. 115 and p. 123. 36 F o r Cezanne's a d m i r a t i o n f o r Redon.see Cezanne, l e t t e r t o E. B e r n a r d , 12 May 1904, p. 302. F o r Redon's l i t o g r a p h s i l l u s t r a t i n g F l a u b e r t ' s T e m p t a t i o n , see Andre M e l l e r i o , O d i l o n Redon, P a r i s , 1913, r e p r i n t e d by Da Capo P r e s s , N.Y., 1968. - 278 - M e l l e r i o a l s o s i n g l e d p u t Redon and Cezanne as two " s o l i t a r y s p i r i t s , " who d i d not b e l o n g t o t h e N a t u r a l i s t - I m p r e s s i o n i s t movement, y e t e x h i b i t e d w i t h them and fought the academism. 3 7 Th. R e f f , "Cezanne's C o n s t r u c t i v e ' S t r o k e , " The A r t Q u a r t e r l y , V o l . 2 5 , No.3, Autumn 1962, p. 219. 3 8 R e f f ( "Cezanne, F l a u b e r t . . . , " p. 122) commented on t h e f a c t t h a t t h e c o l o r i n g i n t h i s p a i n t i n g i s " e x p r e s s i v e , " " f r e e l y i n v e n t e d . " He p o i n t e d out t h a t , . . . i n f i g u r e c o m p o s i t i o n s done from the i m a g i n a t i o n - w i t h e r o f Romantic s u b j e c t s l i k e t h e T e m p t a t i o n o r o f t h e b a t h e r s that, g r a d u a l l y r e p l a c e them - b l u e r e t a i n s i t s p r i m a c y as an e x p r e s s i o n o f pure f a n t a s y d i v o r c e d from t h e b a l a n c e d d i s t r i b u t i o n o f c o l o r s i n n a t u r e . On Cezanne's b l u e , see a l s o K u r t Badt, The A r t o f Cezanne, t r a n s l . S h e i l a Ann A g i l v i e , London: Faber and F a b e r , 1965, pp. 58-72. Compare Cezanne's use o f " i m a g i n a r y " c o l o r i n compo- s i t i o n s such as t h e T e m p t a t i o n o r t h e B a t h e r s , w i t h Ch. B l a n c ' s recommendations. ( See C h a p t e r I , P a r t I , p. 49 and n.109.) I would add t h a t Cezanne's c o l o r i n g i s never as u n n a t u r a l as G a u g u i n ' s . f o r example. He always p r e s e r v e s a note o f p l a u s i b i l i t y . F o r i n s t a n c e , i n t h e case o f a l l - o v e r b l u e t o n e , w h i c h g i v e s p a i n t i n g u n i t y , which can be r e l a t e d w i t h Symbolism, and t h e 18th c e n t u r y b l u e , t h e r e i s a l s o a " n a t u r a l " e x p l a n a t i o n , t o be found a l s o i n B l a n c ' s w r i t i n g s . I n t h e Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n ( 1867, pp. 607-08), B l a n c t a l k s about t h e dominant c o l o r o f t h e l i g h t , depending on c l i m a t e , t i m e o f day, e t c . , such as f o r example a " c o l d b l u e l i g h t " and a "warm and orangy" one. 3 9 Cezanne, l e t t e r to. Z o l a , 24 May 1883, L'Estaque, L e t t e r s , p. 209. The emphasis on " d e c o r a t i v e e f f e c t " i s mine. 40 See P a u l S i g n a c , D'Eugene D e l a c r o i x aux Neo- I m p r e s s i o n n i s m e , f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n La Revue B l a n c h e i n 1898, P a r i s , 1964, p. 95. F o r an example o f P i s s a r r o ' s p a i n t i n g t h a t i n s p i r e d t h e N e o - I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , see La Cote du Chou a P o n t o i s e i n L.R. P i s s a r r o and L. V e n t u r i , Carni1le P i s s a r r o : Son A r t - Son Oeuvre, P a r i s : P. Rosenberg, 19 39, c a t . No.568. W i t h r e g a r d t o P i s s a r r o ' s c o n c e r n f o r " o r d e r , " I w i l l quote from t h e l e t t e r he wrote J a n u a r y 9 t h , 1887 t o h i s son L u c i e n ( L e t t e r s t o h i s son L u c i e n , 1972, p. 9 1 ) : he d i s - approved o f "the d i s o r d e r w h i c h r e s u l t s from a type o f r o m a n t i c f a n t a s y which d e s p i t e t h e t a l e n t o f t h e a r t i s t , i s not i n a c c o r d w i t h t h e s p i r i t o f our t i m e . " From May t o O c t o b e r 1881, P i s s a r r o and Cezanne worked t o g e t h e r i n P o n t o i s e . - 279 - This topic w i l l be discussed l a t e r i n connection with his paintings, i n section "B." 42 Cezanne, l e t t e r to Zola, 27.Nov.. 1884, Letters, p. 213. 43 See H.B. Chipp, Theories of Modern Art, 1973, pp. 63-64. See also Chapter I , Part 2, n.30. See f o r example Gauguin's l e t t e r t o P i s s a r r o , o f t h e summer 1881, quoted i n J . Rewald, The H i s t o r y o f I m p r e s s i o n i s m , M.O.M.A., 1973, p. 458. 4 5 C. P i s s a r r o , l e t t e r o f May 1 3 t h , 1891, L e t t e r s t o H i s Son L u c i e n , p. 171. 46 ^ On Cezanne's r e l i g i o s i t y see J . Rewald, Cezanne e t Z o l a , P a r i s , 1936, pp. 100-01, o r C h a r l e s Camoin, " S o u v e n i r s s u r P a u l Cezanne," L'Amour de l ' A r t , J a n . 1921, p. 25. A c c o r d i n g t o Camoin, Cezanne c o n s i d e r e d r e l i g i o n as a "moral h y g i e n e . " See a l s o F i g . 9 . 4 7 F o r Cezanne "emotion".was e q u i v a l e n t w i t h " s e n s a t i o n " ( as i t was i n S y m b o l i s t c i r c l e s - see Chapter I , P a r t 2, n.23), as i s e v i d e n t f o r example from t h e l e t t e r t o L o u i s Aurenche o f 1904. ( see n.30, above). I t i s i m p o r t a n t t o r e t a i n t h i s o b s e r v a t i o n when r e a d i n g Rewald's E n g l i s h t r a n s l a t i o n o f Cezanne's l e t t e r s , because he sometimes t r a n s l a t e s " s e n s a t i o n " as " s e n s e - p e r c e p t i o n " ( see f o r example L e t t e r s , p. 304). From t h e l e t t e r t o Aurenche i s a l s o e v i d e n t t h a t Cezanne c o n s i d e r e d t h a t t h e emotion f e l t i n f r o n t o f n a t u r e s h o u l d be t h e most i m p o r t a n t f a c t o r i n a r t . He c r i t i c i z e d E m i l e B e r n a r d f o r not b a s i n g h i s a r t on t h e " e m o t i o n a l e x p e r i e n c e o f n a t u r e , " c o n s i d e r i n g he produced " n o t h i n g b u t o l d - f a s h i o n e d r u b b i s h . " ( See L e t t e r s , p. 328.) To L o u i s L e y d e t he wrote i n t h e l e t t e r o f 17 J a n . 190 5: A r r i v e r a f o r m u l e r suffisamment l e s s e n s a t i o n s que nous eprouvons au c o n t a c t de c e t t e b e l l e nature-homme, femme, n a t u r e morte - e t que l e s c i r c o n s t a n c e s vous s o i e n t f a v o r a b l e s , c ' e s t ce que j e d o i s s o u h a i t e r a t o u t e sympathie d ' a r t . ( Quoted i n Jean Royere, " L o u i s L e y d e t , " L'Amour de 1 ' A r t , V o l . 6 , Nov. 1925, p. 444; t h e emphasis i s mine.) Rewald ( L e t t e r s , p. 313) t r a n s l a t e d here s e n s a t i o n as " i m p r e s s i o n , " w h i c h i s c o r r e c t , i f we keep i n mind a g a i n t h a t we are not d e a l i n g w i t h p u r e l y s e n s o r y i m p r e s s i o n s . When Cezanne r e f e r r e d t o t h e l a t t e r , he s p e c i f i e d t h i s , such as f o r example/ " c o l o u r s e n s a t i o n s " ( L e t t e r s , p. 310, o r p. 316). A n o t h e r example o f Cezanne's i n s i s t a n c e on r e n d e r i n g p e r s o n a l "emotion" i s t h e a d v i c e g i v e n t o t h e young p a i n t e r C h a r l e s Camoin. Cezanne a d v i s e d him t o not t r y t o i m i t a t e any - 280 - "master," b u t t o use h i s own " f e e l i n g f o r n a t u r e , " and he added: " . . . b e l i e v e me, as soon as you b e g i n t o f e e l v i v i d l y , your own emotion w i l l always emerge and w i n i t s p l a c e i n t h e sun,...." ( Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 309; my emphasis.) 4 8 See Andre F o n t a i n a s , Mes S o u v e n i r s du Symbolisme, P a r i s , 1928, p. 34. 49 See Ch. B l a n c , " S a l o n de 1866," G a z e t t e des Beaux-Arts, S e r . l , V o l . 2 0 , 1866, p. 500. B l a n c was r e f e r r i n g t o t h e k i n d o f a r t ( i n t e n d e d f o r p r i v a t e use, not t h e "grand a r t " which a c c o r d i n g t o him was t h e monopoly o f t h e S t a t e ) t h a t p a i n t e r s c o u l d e x h i b i t i n a second t y p e o f S a l o n , w h i c h s h o u l d be e s t a b l i s h e d i n o r d e r t o " s a t i s f y t h e m a t e r i a l i n t e r e s t s o f t h e a r t i s t s . " He saw t h e u s u a l S a l o n as an i n s t i t u t i o n t h a t had t h e purpose t o show t h e " g r e a t e s t g l o r y o f F r e n c h a r t . " F o r B l a n c , l a n d s c a p e was low i n t h e h i e r a r c h y o f s u b j e c t - m a t t e r , b u t a p p r o p r i a t e f o r t h e d e c o r a t i o n o f p r i v a t e homes. i Compare t o Van Gogh's i n t e n t i o n s f o r example - see C h a p t e r I> P a r t 2, pp. 73-74.) 50 A c h i l l e P i r o n , Eugene D e l a c r o i x : Sa v i e e t ses oeuvres, P a r i s : I m p r i m e r i e de J u l e s C l a y e , 1865, p. 421. D e l a c r o i x s a i d : Tout e s t s u j e t ; l e s u j e t c ' e s t toi-meme; ce s o n t t e s i m p r e s s i o n s , t e s emotions devant l a n a t u r e . C ' e s t en t o i q u ' i l f a u t r e g a r d e r , e t non a u t o u r de t o i . The a d v i c e Cezanne gave t o C h a r l e s Camoin ( 1 3 Sept. 1903, L e t t e r s , p. 298) i s q u i t e s i m i l a r : "...we must h a s t e n out and by c o n t a c t w i t h n a t u r e r e v i v e w i t h i n o u r s e l v e s t h e i n s t i n c t s , t h e a r t i s t i c s e n s a t i o n s which l i v e i n us." 51 333. Cezanne, l e t t e r t o h i s son, 28 Sept. 1906, L e t t e r s , F o r t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p C e z a n n e - D e l a c r o i x , see a l s o : - S a r a L i c h t e n s t e i n , "Cezanne and D e l a c r o i x , " A r t B u l l e t i n , V o l . 4 6 , 1964, pp. 55-6 7.-. - K u r t B a d t , The A r t o f Cezanne, pp. 278-296. 52 C h a r l e s B a u d e l a i r e , t h e o b i t u a r y he wrote a t D e l a c r o i x ' s d e a t h , i n L o r e n z E i t n e r , N e o c l a s s i c i s m and Romanticism, 1750-1850, V o l . 1 1 , P r e n t i c e - H a l l , 1970, p. 128. ( T h i s a r t i c l e was r e p r i n t e d i n B a u d e l a i r e ' s A r t Romantique.) See a l s o Ch. I , P a r t 2, n.23 on " s e n s a t i o n , " "emotion," and " i m p r e s s i o n . " 5 3 Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 313. See a l s o n.47 f o r t h e F r e n c h o r i g i n a l . 54 E. D e l a c r o i x , J o u r n a l s , i n N e o c l a s s i c i s m and - 281 - Romanticism, p. 121. 55 See n.30; my emphasis. See a l s o Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 303, and p. 315. B a u d e l a i r e quoted D e l a c r o i x : S i n c e I c o n s i d e r t h e i m p r e s s i o n t r a n s - m i t t e d t o t h e a r t i s t by n a t u r e as t h e most i m p o r t a n t t h i n g o f a l l t o t r a n s l a t e , i s i t n o t . e s s e n t i a l t h a t he s h o u l d be armed i n advance w i t h a l l t h e most r a p i d means o f t r a n s l a t i o n ? Then B a u d e l a i r e added: "... t h e day was never l o n g enough f o r h i s s t u d y o f t h e m a t e r i a l means o f e x p r e s s i o n . " ( See Neo- c l a s s i c i s m and Romanticism, p. 128.) 5 6 Cezanne.most l i k e l y r e a d D e l a c r o i x ' s a r t i c l e s on P i r o n ' s book o f 1865, where some o f h i s a r t i c l e s , as w e l l as e x c e r p t s from h i s J o u r n a l s and l e t t e r s were r e p r o d u c e d ( t h e J o u r n a l s were p u b l i s h e d i n e n t i r e t y i n 189 3 ) , as w e l l as w r i t i n g s on D e l a c r o i x by B a u d e l a i r e , Chesneau, B l a n c , o r Th. S i l v e s t r e . 57 See N e o c l a s s i c i s m and Romanticism, p. 109. B a u d e l a i r e a l s o p o i n t e d out t h a t " I n c o l o u r are t o be found harmony, melody, and c o u n t e r p o i n t . " ( See Ch. B a u d e l a i r e , "The S a l o n o f 1846," i n E l i z a b e t h G i l m o r e H o l t , From the C l a s s i c i s t s t o t h e I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , N.Y. , 1966, p.. 178.) 58 • F o r . B a u d e l a i r e , see E. H o l t , From t h e C l a s s i c i s t s . . . , p. 175. On B a u d e l a i r e Cezanne w r o t e : "One o f t h e s t r o n g i s B a u d e l a i r e , h i s ' A r t Romantique' i s a s t o u n d i n g , and he doesn't go wrong i n t h e . a r t i s t s he admires." ( See Cezanne, l e t t e r t o h i s son, 13 S e p t . ,1906, L e t t e r s , p. 328.) The S y m b o l i s t s were i n d e b t e d t o D e l a c r o i x , among o t h e r t h i n g s , f o r t h e concept o f " e q u i v a l e n t s , " as W a s u i t y n s k i p o i n t e d o u t . ( S e e V . J i r a t - W a s u i t y n s k i , P a u l Gauguin i n t h e c o n t e x t o f Symbolism, New York and London: G a r l a n d P u b l . , 1978, pp. 110-13.) D e l a c r o i x w r o t e : Le b u t de 1 " a r t i s t e n ' e s t pas de r e p r o d u i r e exactement l e s o b j e t s , i l s e r a i t a r r e t e . a u s s i t o t p a r 1 ' i m p o s s i b i l i t e de l e f a i r e . I I y a des e f f e t s t r e s - communs q u i echappent e n t i e r e m e n t . a\ l a p e i n t u r e e t q u i ne peuvent se t r a d u i r e que p a r des e q u i v a l e n t s . : c ' e s t a 1 ' e s p r i t q u ' i l f a u t a r r i v e r , e t l e s e q u i v a l e n t s s u f f i s e n t pour c e l a . ( P i r o n , Eugene D e l a c r o i x . . . , 1865, pp. 405-06; my emphasis.) As J i r a t - W a s u i t y n s k i has shown, Gauguin had c o p i e d t h i s f r a g - ment o f P i r o n ' s book. Denis o f t e n t a l k s , as we have seen, o f t h i s t h e o r y o f e q u i v a l e n t s , i n s i m i l a r terms. ( See C h a p t e r I I , P a r t 1, p. 125 and n.157.) - 282 - 5 9 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o Ch. Camoin, 22 Feb. 1903, L e t t e r s , p. 294. N e o c l a s s i c i s m and Romanticism, p. 109. 61 See E . Chesneau, L ' E d u c a t i o n . . . , pp. 54-59. 6 2 I b i d . , p. 59. 6 3 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o Gasquet, 26 Sept. 1897, p. 261: my emphasis. I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g t o note t h a t P u v i s de Chavannes h e l d s i m i l a r c o n c e p t s . He s a i d , " p a i n t i n g i s not m e r e l y an i m i t a t i o n o f r e a l i t y , b u t a p a r a l l e l w i t h n a t u r e . " ( Quoted i n Arsene A l e x a n d r e ' s I n t r o d u c t i o n t o P u v i s de Chavannes, London, G. Newnes L t d . , 1905, p. x v i i . A l e x a n d r e c l a i m e d t o have used c o n v e r s a t i o n and correspondance f o r h i s q u o t e s , not anecdote.) 64 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o E. Bernard,,. 1905, L e t t e r s , p. 315. Cezanne, l e t t e r t o Ch. Camoin, 3 Feb. 190 2, L e t t e r s , p. 282; my emphasis. 66 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o h i s son, 13 Oct. 1906, L e t t e r s , p. 335. 6 7 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d , 1905, L e t t e r s , p. 315. 6 8 . See C h a p t e r I , P a r t 2, pp. 76-77, and n.106 on N a t u r i s m . 69 . M. D e c a u d i n , L a C n s e des v a l e u r s s y m b o l i s t e s , p. 128. 70 On t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p Cezanne-Gasquet see J . Rewald, Cezanne, G e f f r o y . e t Gasquet, as w e l l as t h e correspondence between t h e two i n Cezanne, L e t t e r s . Rewald has t h e tendency t o p l a y down t h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p . F o r i n f o r m a t i o n on t h e Romanic S c h o o l , as w e l l as on Gasquet and t h e " P r o v i n c i a l R e n a i s s a n c e , " see t h e same books recommended i n t h e note on N a t u r i s m ( C h a p t e r I , P a r t 2, n.106), t h a t i s D e c a u d i n ' s , Raymond's and C o r n e l l ' s . 71 On Cezanne b e i n g an a n t i - D r e y f u s a r d see J . Rewald, Cezanne, s a v i e - s o n o e u v r e , son a m i t i e pour Z o l a , P a r i s : A l b i n M i c h e l , 19 39, p. 36 5. 72 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o J . Gasquet, 26 Sept., 1896, L e t t e r s , p. 254. Cezanne ends t h e l e t t e r t o Gasquet o f 30 J a n u a r y 1897 - 283 - w i t h " l o n g l i v e Provence" ( L e t t e r s , p. 258). 7 3 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o H e n r i Gasquet, 23 Dec. 189 8, L e t t e r s , p. 267. 74 p. 94. 75 See M a r c e l Raymond, De B a u d e l a i r e au S u r r e a l i s m e , Quoted i n M i c h e l Decaudin, La C r i s e . . . . , p. 133. Cezanne was a l s o p r a i s i n g "Reason, t h i s c l a r i t y w h i c h p e r m i t s us t o p e n e t r a t e t h e problems s u b m i t t e d t o us," i n t h e l e t t e r o f 20 Nov. 1901 t o t h e young w r i t e r L o u i s Aurenche ( who met Cezanne t h r o u g h G a s q u e t ) , L e t t e r s , p. 278. 76 Decaudin, L a C r i s e . . . , p. 133. 77 See C o r n e l l , The S y m b o l i s t Movement, p. 178. 78 I n t h e l e t t e r t o t h e young p a i n t e r C h a r l e s Camoin, o f 13 S e p t . 1903, Cezanne w r o t e : Couture d i s a i t a ses e l e v e s : "Ayez de bonne f r e q u e n t a t i o n s , " s o i t : " A l l e z au ; L o u v r e . " Mais apres a v o i r vu l e s grands m a i t r e s q u i y r e p o s e n t , 11 f a u t se h a t e r d'en s o r t i r e t v i v i f i e r en s o i , au c o n t a c t de l a n a t u r e , l e s i n s t i n c t s , l e s s e n s a t i o n s d ' a r t q u i r e s i d e n t en nous. ( Cezanne, Correspondance, P a r i s : B e r n a r d G r a s s e t , 19 37, p. 255.) A c o u p l e o f y e a r s l a t e r , i n 1905, Camoin d e c l a r e d t h a t Cezanne o f t e n s a i d he wanted t o " v i v i f y P o u s s i n from n a t u r e " ( v i v i f i e r P o u s s i n s u r n a t u r e ) - see "Enquete s u r l e s tendences a e t u e l l e s des a r t s p l a s t i q u e s , " Mercure de F r a n c e , Aug. 1905, p. 353. We w i l l never know f o r s u r e i f Cezanne a c t u a l l y mentioned P o u s s i n , o r not ( I do not want t o reopen t h i s d i s c u s s i o n h e r e ; see Th. R e f f , "Cezanne and P o u s s i n , " 1960). What i s i m p o r t a n t i s t h a t Cezanne, w h i l e a c c e p t i n g t h e need t o l e a r n from t h e " g r e a t m a s t e r s , " recommended a " v i v i f y - i n g " by t h e way o f n a t u r e . 79 327. 80 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o h i s son, 8 S e p t . 1906, L e t t e r s , Cezanne, l e t t e r t o Gasquet, 22 June 1898, L e t t e r s , p.. 265. F o r Cezanne's r e a c t i o n t o G e f f r o y ' s a r t i c l e , see t h e l e t t e r he wrote to.Gasquet on A p r i l 30, 1896, L e t t e r s , p. 245. On Gasquet's c l a i m t h a t Cezanne r e n d e r e d " t h e s o u l o f Provence" see Rewald's t r a n s l a t i o n from Les Mois P o r e s o f 189 8 i n Cezanne, L e t t e r s , pp. 264-65. Rewald admits he does n o t u n d e r s t a n d why Cezanne speaks "so s l i g h t i n g l y about G e f f r o y - 284- whose a r t i c l e shows so much more u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h a n Gasquet's e f f u s i o n . " He does suggest as a p o s s i b l e r e a s o n the p o l i t i c a l and r e l i g i o u s d i f f e r e n c e s between G e f f r o y and Gasquet, w i t h Cezanne b e i n g i n t h i s r e s p e c t on Gasquet's s i d e . T h i s i s v e r y p l a u s i b l e o f c o u r s e , b u t i t i s a l s o t r u e t h a t Cezanne d i d not agree w i t h G e f f r o y on a r t i s t i c m a t t e r s . I t i s o b v i o u s t o me he c a l l e d G e f f r o y " v u l g a r " because o f h i s s t a n d v i s - a - v i s " a r t f o r a r t ' s sake" and because he wrote f o r the g e n e r a l p u b l i c . Cezanne was not p l e a s e d G e f f r o y a t t r a c t e d t h e p u b l i c ' s a t t e n - t i o n on him, and o b v i o u s l y d i d not c o n s i d e r t h a t the. c r i t i c u n d e r s t o o d him. 81 M. Raymond, De B a u d e l a i r e au S u r r e a l i s m e , p. 94. On L o u i s B e r t r a n d ' s p r e f a c e t o Gasquet's Chants s e c u l a l r e s see "La r e n a i s s a n c e c l a s s i q u e : L o u i s B e r t r a n d " i n M. Decaudin, L a C r i s e des v a l e u r s s y m b o l i s t e s , pp. 137-140. 82 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o Gasquet, 25 June 1903, L e t t e r s , p. 296. 8 3 See Decaudin, La C r i s e . . . , p. 138. Gasquet wrote: Les a s s i s e s de Cezanne f u r e n t t o u t e s f r a n g a i s e s e t l a t i n e s . Ce ne f u t que p a r l e Flamand Rubens, au f o n d s i l a t i n l u i - meme, que l e s H o l l a n d a i s e u r e n t quelque p r i s e s u r l u i , e t t o u t e de s u r f a c e . ( J . Gasquet, Cezanne, P a r i s , 1926, p. 70.) q c See a l s o Ch. I I , P a r t 1, pp. 108.-109. 86 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o h i s son, 13 S e p t . 1906, L e t t e r s , p. 328. 8 7 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o h i s son, 15 Oct. 1906, L e t t e r s , p. 337. 88 See Th. R e f f , Cezanne. The L a t e Work, p. 20. 89 Th. R e f f , "The P i c t u r e s W i t h i n Cezanne's P i c t u r e s , " A r t s Magazine, June 1979, pp. 95-98, 100, 102. 90 J . Gasquet, Cezanne, p. 53. 91 See Ch. I I , P a r t 2, p. 155 and n.65. 92 The t e r m " d e c o r a t o r " i s used i n t h e t r u e sense o f t h e word, which i m p l i e s t h e s u b s e r v i e n c e o f p a i n t i n g t o a r c h i t e c - t u r e ; whether t h e p a i n t i n g i s done f o r a s p e c i f i c d e s t i n a t i o n - 285 - o r not i s l e s s r e l e v a n t - 93 J . and G. Bernheim-Jeune, "Notes des E d i t e u r s , " Cezanne, 1914, p. 14. 94 Cezanne d i d t r y h i s hand a t l i t h o g r a p h y , b u t h i s i n t e r e s t i n t h i s " l o w e r " form o f d e c o r a t i v e a r t was m i n i m a l . See Douglas D r u i c k , "Cezanne's L i t h o g r a p h s , " i n Cezanne. The L a t e Work, pp. 119-137. 95 See Ch. B l a n c , "Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f i s , " Gaz. des B e a u x - A r t s , Sep.2, V o l . 3 , 1870, p. 315 and p. 298. 96 Ch. B l a n c , Gaz. des B e a u x - A r t s ,• V o l . 3 , 1870, p. 325. 9 7 Th. R e f f , "Cezanne's C o n s t r u c t i v e S t r o k e , " p. 214. See a l s o C h a p t e r I I , P a r t 2, p. 151. 9 8 Th. R e f f , " P a i n t i n g and Theory i n t h e F i n a l Decade," Cezanne. The L a t e Work, p. 28. 99 The d e c o r a t i o n o f t h e apartments w i t h t a p e s t r y hang- i n g s became p o p u l a r , b u t t h i s form o f d e c o r a t i o n c o u l d not be a f f o r d e d by many p u r s e s , s i n c e t a p e s t r i e s were v e r y c o s t l y . A compromise s o l u t i o n m a t e r i a l i z e d i n t h e form o f " p a i n t e d t a p e s t r y , " t h a t i s , canvases p a i n t e d i n l i q u i d c o l o u r s , i m i t a t i n g t a p e s t r y . I n 1877 a book i n t e n d e d f o r t h e use o f a r t i s t s and " e n l i g h t e d ; a m a t e u r s " was p u b l i s h e d , e n t i t l e d L a P e i n t u r e s u r t o i l e i m i t a n t l e s t a p i s s e r i e s e t . s o n a p p l i c a t i o n a l a d e c o r a t i o n i n t e r i e u r e : Lecons p r a t i q u e s s u r T'emplol des c o u l e u r s l i q u i d e s . ( P a r i s : Mary, ed.) The a u t h o r was J u l i e n Godon, a d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t e r who h i m s e l f used t h i s p r o c e d u r e h i g h l y recommended by V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , f o r example i n t h e G a l e r i e M a z a r i n e a t t h e B i b l i o t h g q u e N a t i o n a l e i n P a r i s . ( J e a n - J o s e p h - J u l i e n Godon was a p a i n t e r o f s t i l l l i f e , and a d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t e r b o r n i n t h e same y e a r as Cezanne, t h a t i s 1839. He made h i s debut a t t h e S a l o n o f 186 8.) The book was t r a n s l a t e d i n t o E n g l i s h two y e a r s l a t e r , under t h e t i t l e P a i n t e d T a p e s t r y and i t s A p p l i c a t i o n t o I n t e r i o r D e c o r a t i o n : P r a c t i c a l Lessons i n T a p e s t r y P a i n t i n g w i t h L i q u i d C o l o u r J I n h i s " T r a n s l a t o r Note" t h e a r c h i t e c t B u c k n a l l ( who a l s o t r a n s - l a t e d some o f V i o l l e t - l e - D u c w r i t i n g s i n t o E n g l i s h ) , quoted words o f p r a i s e f o r p a i n t e d t a p e s t r y from V i o l l e t - l e - D u c ' s book How t o B u i l d a House, i n w h i c h e c o n o m i c a l advantages were c l e a r l y p o i n t e d o u t . F o r example V i o l l e t - l e - D u c s a i d , . . . i t i s c l e a r t h a t everybody c o u l d not have F l e m i s h o r G o b e l i n t a p e s t r y , any more t h a n Cordova l e a t h e r . Those t h i n g s were v e r y c o s t l y ; whereas p a i n t e d canvas hangings do not c o s t much more t h a n w a l l p a p e r s . . . ( o p . c i t . , p. v i i . ) - 286 - The p a i n t e d t a p e s t r i e s were q u i t e v e r s a t i l e . They were not o n l y b e t t e r , more " a r t i s t i c " s u b s t i t u t e f o r t h e mass-produced w a l l p a p e r s , o r cheaper s u b s t i t u t e f o r t a p e s t r y , b u t f i x e d t o t h e w a l l , o r s t r e t c h e d on wood.frames as p a n e l s , t h e y were " d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g s . " Godon saw i n t h i s new t e c h n i q u e , "a new avenue which opens f o r t h e d e c o r a t i v e p a i n t i n g " ( op. c i t . , p. 2 ) . The p a i n t e d t a p e s t r i e s . w e r e p a i n t e d on a s p e c i a l c a n v a s , c a l l e d canvas B i n a n t . As Godon e x p l a i n s , B i n a n t was one o f t h e founders o f t h e Union C e n t r a l e , and he e x h i b i t e d h i s new p r o d u c t f o r - t h e f i r s t t i m e i n 1861. Godon's book might have been prompted by t h e s u c c e s s o f t h e p a i n t e d t a p e s - t r i e s a t t h e e x h i b i t i o n o r g a n i z e d i n 1877 by t h e Union C e n t r a l e des b e a u x - a r t s a p p l i q u e s a 1 ' I n d u s t r i e a t t h e P a l a i s de Champs-Elysees ( mentioned by Godon on page 5 o f t h e b o o k ) . x ^ A i x - e n - P r o v e n c e was ( and s t i l l i s ) t h e p l a c e where some o f t h e b e s t p r e s e r v e d F r e n c h ( Beauvais) 18th c e n t u r y t a p e s t r i e s c o u l d be found. They a r e p r e s e r v e d i n t h e A r c h - b i s h o p ' s P a l a c e , which s i n c e 1910 became The Museum o f T a p e s t r y and A n t i q u e F u r n i t u r e . See i n v e n t a i r e G e n e r a l des R i c h e s s e s d ' A r t de l a F r a n c e , P a r i s : P l o n , 1905, V . l l , pp. 22-23 ( e n t r y by H. G i b e r t , 1891), Henry A l g o u d , Les T a p i s s e r i e s du Musee de i ' a n c i e n Areheveche a A i x - e n - P r o v e n c e , M a r s e i l l e : D e t a i l l e , n.d., as w e l l as t h e r e p r o d u c t i o n s i n M i c h e l - F r a n c o i s B r a i v e and J.-G. M a r t i a l , A i x - e n - P r o v e n c e , P a r i s : L a Nef, 19 55, pp. 91-9 7 and t h e c o v e r . Cezanne d i d some c o p y i n g from t a p e s t r y c a r t o o n s , such as an o i l p a i n t i n g ( w h i c h was on t h e London a r t market i n I960) r e p r e s e n t i n g J.F. de T r o y ' s c a r t o o n o f The C a p t u r e and S e n t e n c i n g o f Haman ( Louvre) f o r t h e S t o r y o f E s t h e r t a p e s t r i e s , o r a drawing r e p r e s e n t i n g a f i g u r e from G i u l i o Romano's c a r t o o n o f The C a p t u r e o f a C i t y ( Louvre) f o r t h e F r u c t u s B e l l i t a p e s t r i e s . ( See Th. R e f f , " G e r t r u d e B e r t h o l d , Cezanne und.die a l t e n M e i s t e r . . . , " The A r t B u l l e t i n , V o l . 4 2 , June 1960, p. 149 and p. 148.) 101 102 See C h a p t e r I I , P a r t 1, p. 134 and n.207. See Cezanne, L e t t e r s , p. 320 ( f o r t h e Goncourts) and p. 305 ( f o r C h a r d i n ) . 103 Chesneau wrote: L a p e i n t u r e murale n'a pas l e s memes l o i s que l a p e i n t u r e a l ' h u i l e . E l l e e s t un ornament e t ne d o i t pas provoquer 1 ' i l l u s i o n . Ce qu'on a p e l l e l e t r o m p e - 1 ' o e i l n ' e s t dans un t a b l e a u a l ' h u i l e qu'un s o l e c i s m e g r o s s i e r ; dans l a p e i n t u r e m u r a l e , c ' e s t un b a r b a r i s m e sans excuse. I I f a u t que l a s u r f a c e r e s t e e t p a r a i s s e p l a n e ; l a p e i n t u r e murale joue un r o l e p l u s e l e v e , mais analogue a . c e l u i q u i e t a i t r e s e r v e a u t r e f o i s - 287 - aux t a p i s s e r i e s de t e n t u r e , dans 1 1 ameublement des chateaux e t des p a l a i s r o y a u x . 2 2 ^ ( E. Chesneau, Les Chefs d ' e c o l e , 1862, p. 359.) 104 See f o r example C a l m e t t e s ' p r a i s e o f t h e Rococo t a p e s t r i e s , such as Boucher's Aminte e t S y l v i e , i n Fernand C a l m e t t e s , "La L o i de l a T a p i s s e r i e , " La Revue de l ' A r t A n c i e n e t Moderne, V o l . 1 6 , 1904, pp. 107-09. 105 See A. D a r c e l , " E x p o s i t i o n de l ' h i s t o i r e de l a t a p i s s e r i e , " Gaz. des B e a u x - A r t s , S e r . 2 , V o l . 1 4 , 1876, pp. 428-29. See a l s o P. V a i s s e , "La q u e r e l l e . . . , " p. 75. On m o d e l l i n g by h a t c h i n g see G u i l l a u m e Janneau, " T a p e s t r y Technique," i n Andre L e j a r d , ed., F r e n c h T a p e s t r y , London, 1946, p. 13. 106 Such p r e c e p t s were not a c t u a l l y f o l l o w e d i n p r a c t i c e a t t h e G o b e l i n s , p a r t l y due t o t h e l a c k o f "good" models, t h a t i s p a i n t e r s ' c o o p e r a t i o n . 107 108 109 110 Th. R e f f , "Cezanne's C o n s t r u c t i v e S t r o k e , " p. 223. See n.40, above. Ch. B l a n c , Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , p. 113.. M.E. C h e v r e u l , The Laws of C o n t r a s t o f C o l o u r . . . , London, 1 8 8 3 , p. 10 3. . 1 x 1 See Chapter I I , P a r t 1, p. 137 and n.221. •i ' . . . . . 112 Compare f o r example t o House i n Provence - Fig.13. 113 See M.E. C h e v r e u l , The Laws of C o n t r a s t of C o l o u r . . . , P l a t e XI, f o r example. 114 See Ch. B l a n c , Grammaire des a r t s du d e s s i n , 186 7, p. 605. See a l s o Blanc, Grammaire' des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , pp. 385-86. Seurat's method i s a c t u a l l y s i m i l a r to D e y r o l l e ' s procedure, developed f o r t a p e s t r y at the b e g i n n i n g of the 19th century. ( S e e Ch. I, P a r t 1, n.6 7.) P. Signac p o i n t e d out t h a t Cezanne, as w e l l as the I m p r e s s i o n i s t s and the Neo- I m p r e s s i o n i s t s , used the o p t i c a l mixing of c o l o u r : De meme, l a touche de Cezanne e s t l e t r a i t d'union e n t r e l e s modes d'execution des i m p r e s s i o n n i s t e s e t des neo- i m p r e s s i o n n i s t e s . Le p r i n c i p e - commun, mais a p p l i q u e differemment - du , melange optique u n i t ces t r o i s generations de - 288 - c o l o r i s t e s . . . ( P . S i g n a c , D'Eugene D e l a c r o i x au neo- i m p r e s s i o n n i s m e , 1964, p. 106.) 115 I n t a p e s t r y o n l y t h e v e r t i c a l d i r e c t i o n i s p o s s i b l e . 116 Even h e r e t h e r e a r e some v e r t i c a l s t r o k e s , e s p e c i a l l y i n t h e p o p l a r s , h o r i z o n t a l i n t h e w a t e r , and t h e houses are p a i n t e d almost i n f l a t t i n t s . See a l s o Th. R e f f , "Cezanne's C o n s t r u c t i v e S t r o k e , " pp. 220-21. 117 See P a u l Gauguin's I n t i m a t e J o u r n a l s , t r . Van Wyck B r o o k s , New York: L i v e r i g h t , 1949, p. 246. Gauguin c o u l d n o t have w i t n e s s e d t h e a c t u a l p a i n t i n g o f t h i s p i c t u r e , s i n c e he met Cezanne o n l y i n 1881 i n P o n t o i s e . 118 See P. S i g n a c , D'.Eugene D e l a c r o i x . . . , p. 97 and p. 116. T h i s " O r i e n t a l t r a d i t i o n " does not r e f e r t o m o d e l l i n g , b u t t o t h e c o l o r i n g o f a smooth s u r f a c e , monochrome i n appearance. See a l s o C h a p t e r I , P a r t 2, n . 3 I , where I d i s c u s s e d Gauguin's i n v o l v e m e n t w i t h flambe c e r a m i c s , i n s p i r e d by C h i n e s e v a s e s , i n C h a p e l e t ' s workshop. 119 See a l s o S i g n a c ' s q u o t a t i o n from B l a n c i n D'Eugene D e l a c r o i x . . . , pp. 115-16. R i v i e r e and Schnerb n o t i c e s t h a t Cezanne a p p l i e d t h i s method o f c o l o r m o d u l a t i o n s a l s o t o " f l a t s u r f a c e s " ( " L ' A t e l i e r de Cezanne'" pp. 813-14), b u t t h e y i n t e r p r e t e d t h i s as " m o d e l l i n g o f p l a n e s u r f a c e s " i n s t e a d as a means o f a v o i d i n g monochrome c o l o r i n g and o f making t h e c o l o r " v i b r a t e . " Y e t when t h e y wanted t o be more t e c h n i c a l i n t h e i r e x p l a n a t i o n , t h e y a r r i v e d t o t h e r i g h t c o n c l u s i o n , w h i c h i s t h e a v o i d a n c e o f monochromism: Une s u r f a c e ne nous semble u n i e de t o n e t de. v a l e u r que p a r c e que n o t r e o e i l se meut pour l a p e r c e v o i r t o u t e n t i e r e e t s i l e p e i n t r e , pour l a r e p r e s e n t e r , e t e n d une couche monochrome s u r s a t o i l e , i l l a r e p r o d u i r a sana v e r i t e . R e f f ( Cezanne. The L a t e Work, p. 4 8) f o r example, took R i v i e r e ' s and Schnerb's" m o d e l l i n g o f f l a t s u r f a c e s " a t f a c e v a l u e , and d e c l a r e d t h a t Cezanne saw " c o n v e x i t y " everywhere. 120 Both E. B e r n a r d and J . Gasquet t e s t i f y t h a t Cezanne owned volumes by C h a r l e s B l a n c , and b o t h b e l i t t l e d t h e a r t h i s t o r i a n ' s works. See E. B e r n a r d , S o u v e n i r s s u r P a u l Cezanne. Une c o n v e r s a t i o n avec Cezanne, P a r i s : R.G. M i c h e l , ed., 1926, pp. 39, 107. ( T h e " S o u v e n i r s " f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n 190 7 i n Mercure de France.) B e r n a r d s a i d Cezanne owned volumes o f B l a n c * s H i s t o i r e des p e i n t r e s , which he a s s i d o u s l y c o n s u l t e d , b u t he made t h i s comment: "Malheuresement c e t ouvrage e s t m e d i o c r e , e t l e s r e p r o d u c t i o n s en s o n t p l u s que - 289 - mauvaises." Gasquet made s i m i l a r comments and added: " . . . i l n'y a pas a repondre a ceux q u i c r o i e n t ou p r e t e n d e n t que l e s mediocres volumes de C h a r l e s B l a n c f a i s a i e n t t o u t son bagage [Cezanne's,]...." .-.(. Gasquet, Cezanne, pp. 109-10.) Gasquet a l s o r e l a t e d t h a t Cezanne o f t e n skimed t h r o u g h h i s c o l l e c t i o n o f volumes by Ch. B l a n c , t h a t he r e a d L ' H i s b o i r e des p e i n t r e s and sometimes even c o p i e d some r e p r o d u c t i o n from them. ( Gasquet, Cezanne, pp. 109-10.) We know t h a t Cezanne i n d e e d c o p i e d from t h e r e p r o d u c t i o n s i n B l a n c books, f o r example t h e C h r i s t i n Limbo, a t t r i b u t e d by B l a n c t o N a v a r e t t e , i n h i s L ' E c o l e E s p a g n o l e . ( See G. B e r t h o l d , Cezanne und d i e a l t e n M e i s t e r , S t u t t g a r t , 1958, p. 130, #273.) U n f o r t u n a t e l y , as Th. R e f f p o i n t e d o u t , almost a l l Cezanne's books were removed by h i s f a m i l y . ( Th. R e f f . " R e p r o d u c t i o n s and Books i n Cezanne's S t u d i o , " Gaz. Beaux- A r t s , V o l . 5 6 , 1960, p. 30 3.) I t i s not p o s s i b l e t h u s t o prove he owned t h e two Grammaires f o r example, b u t i t i s v e r y l i k e l y . 121 C h a r l e s M o r i c e , Gauguin, P a r i s : F l o u r y , 1919, p. 166. 1 2 2 See n.99. 123 See f o r example E. L o r a n , Cezanne's C o m p o s i t i o n , p. 35, where he d i s c u s s e s "Cezanne's M a t e r i a l s and Method." 124 J . Godon, L a P e i n t u r e s u r t o i l e i m i t a n t l e s t a p i s s e r i e s . . . , p. 85. 125 On t h e s u b j e c t o f Cezanne's "shadow-paths" see K. B a d t , The A r t o f Cezanne, pp. 49-56. Badt ( p p . 164-65) r e - marked a l s o on t h e c a r p e t - l i k e c h a r a c t e r o f Cezanne's p a i n t - i n g s , on t h e u n i f y i n g f e a t u r e o f t h e i r " f a c t u r e , " t h e "detached p a t c h e s o f c o l o u r f r e q u e n t l y b u t not i n v a r i a b l y a p p l i e d i n one d i r e c t i o n , " w h i c h resemble t h e t e x t u r e o f woven m a t e r i a l s . He s p e c i f i c a l l y r e f e r r e d , t o G o b e l i n t a p e s t r y e f f e c t ( pp. 166-67). 1 OG. Raymond Bouyer, "Le Paysage dans, l ' a r t , " L ' A r t i s t e , J u l y 1893, p. 39. See a l s o Chapter. I , P a r t 2, n.75 on Bouyer's a r t i c l e s . On Cezanne's e a r l i e r c o n n e c t i o n w i t h L ' A r t i s t e , see G u i l a B a l l a s , . " P a u l Cezanne e t l a revue ' L ' A r t i s t e ' , " Gaz. des B e a u x - A r t s , S e r . 6 , V o l . 9 8 , Dec. 1981, pp. 223-232. C o n s i d e r - i n g t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f Bouyer's a r t i c l e s f o r a l a n d s c a p e p a i n t e r , i t . i s not l i k e l y he would have m i s s e d them. 127 R. Bouyer, "Le Paysage...," L ' A r t i s t e , Aug. 1893, p. 12 3. My emphasis on v i v i f i a n t . 128 E. L o r a n , Cezanne's C o m p o s i t i o n , p. 29 remarked on - 290 - the " i n n e r l i g h t " i n Cezanne's p a i n t i n g s , " t h a t emanates from t h e c o l o r r e l a t i o n s i n t h e p i c t u r e i t s e l f , w i t h o u t r e g a r d f o r t h e mere c o p y i n g o f r e a l i s t i c e f f e c t s o f l i g h t and shade." See a l s o Ch. IT, P a r t 1, p. 137, and Ch. I I , P a r t 2, 129 p. 169. 130 See f o r example Ch. B l a n c , "Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , " G a z e t t e des B e a u x - A r t s , V o l . 3 , 1870, p. 320: " T i t i e n , Veronese, Rubens, l e s grads c o l o r i s t s , ont f a i t consonner l e u r s t o n s p a r l a r e p e t i t i o n de l e u r s harmonies." He added: Le c o l o r i s de Rubens, a y r e g a r d e r b i e n , n ' e s t s i harmonieux, s i v i b r a n t , s i e n t r a i n a n t que p a r l ' h a b i l e t e q u ' i l a mise a r a p p e l e r l e s c o u l e u r s chaudes parmi l e s tons f r o i d s , e t l e s c o u l e u r s f r o i d e s parmi l e s t o n s chauds. A l s o , B l a n c m a i n t a i n e d , S ' . i l y f a u t un c o n t r a s t e , qu'on l ' y m e t t e , a l a c o n d i t i o n que l e c o n t r a s t e s o i t t o u j o u r s un moyen de r e n d r e 1 ' u n i t e p l u s f o r t e , p l u s b r i l l a n t e , p l u s s a i l l a n t e . S i 1'orange d o i t e c l a t e r dans une d e c o r a t i o n , que l e b l e u s'y mele, mais a p e t i t e s doses,... ( I b i d . , p. 321.) On t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e u n i t y o f e f f e c t , see a l s o H. Havard, L a D e c o r a t i o n , pp. 28-29. 131 A. D a r c e l , "Le S a l o n des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , " Gaz. B e a u x - A r t s , S e r . 2 , V o l . 2 5 , 1882, p. 591. 132 See a l s o C h a p t e r I , P a r t 2, n . 2. 133 T h i s was something t h a t Cezanne wanted t o a v o i d - see l e t t e r t o E. B e r n a r d , 23 Oct. 1905, L e t t e r s , p. 317. 134 Ch. B l a n c , Grammaire des a r t s d e c o r a t i f s , pp. 10 4-05, and p. 101. B l a n c ( op. c i t . , p~. 101) s a i d t h a t t h e C h i n e s e " f o n t v o i r dans l e haut de l e u r d e c o r a t i o n ce qu'un p e i n t r e mis dans l e l o i n t a i n de son t a b l e a u . " As a g e n e r a l r u l e f o r a v o i d i n g t h e l i n e a r p e r s p e c t i v e e f f e c t , B l a n c recommended u s i n g a h i g h v i e w p o i n t , o r i n l a n d s c a p e s t h e a v o i d a n c e o f t o o much sky exposure ( see C h a p t e r I , P a r t 1, p. 26) ; such d e v i c e s were e x t e n s i v e l y used by Cezanne. As Gauguin n o t i c e s , " h i s h o r i z o n s are l o f t y . " ( See P. Gauguin, l e t t e r t o S c h u f f e n e c k e r , 14 J a n . 1885, L e t t e r s t o h i s W i f e and F r i e n d s , p. 34.) 135 L i l i a n e B r i o n - G u e r r y , Cezanne e t 1 ' E x p r e s s i o n de - 291 - 1'Espace, P a r i s : Ed. A l b i n M i c h e l , 1966 ( f i r s t ed. 1950; w r i t t e n between 1943-45), pp. 152-160. B r i o n - G u e r r y was p u z z l e d by t h e s i m i l a r i t i e s w i t h C h i n e s e p a i n t i n g m o s t l y because she b e l i e v e d Gasquet when he s a i d Cezanne d i d not have knowledge o f Japanese and C h i n e s e a r t . ( Op. c i t . , p. 254, n.115). Gasquet s a i d : On a p a r l e des J a p o n a i s e t des C h i n o i s . Quand j'amenais l a c o n v e r s a t i o n s u r eux: "Je ne l e s c o n n a i s pas, d i s a i t - i l . Je n'en a i j a m a i s vu." I I n ' a v a i t l u que l e s deux volumes de Goncourt s u r Outamaro e t H o k o u s a i , mais dans 1 1 i n t e l l i g e n c e c r e a t r i c e d'un p e i n t r e c e n t pages de t e x t e ne p o r t e n t pas l e tcmoinage d'un t r a i t ou de deux coups de p i n c e a u . S ' i l y e u t r e n c o n t r e , ce que j e s u i s l o i n de s u g g e r e r , d e t e s t a n t t o u s ces rapprochements de h a s a r d a l ' u s a g e des snobs, comme ces fameuses comparisons e n t r e l e s paysages de Cezanne e t l e s paysages des t a p i s s e r i e s , s ' i l y eut r e n c o n t r e , e l l e f u t f o r t u i t e , e t en t o u t cas purement c e r e b r a l e . I I n'y eut pas echange, i n f l u e n c e v i r t u e l l e . Les a s s i s e s de Cezanne f u f e n t t o u t e s f r a n c a i s e s e t l a t i n e s . ( J . Gasquet, Cezanne, p. 70.) Gasquet d i s m i s s e d h e r e , i n one sweep, b o t h O r i e n t a l i n f l u e n c e s on Cezanne and t h e comparison o f h i s l a n d s c a p e s w i t h t a p e s t r y l a n d s c a p e s . He d i d not l i k e t h e O r i e n t a l i n f l u e n c e s because he was a g a i n s t any i n f l u e n c e s t h a t were not F r e n c h o r a t l e a s t L a t i n . He d i d not l i k e t h e comparison w i t h t a p e s t r i e s because, as he put i t , t h e y were " f o r t h e use o f snobs," t h a t i s t h o s e t h a t f a v o r e d "pure p a i n t i n g . " 136 See R. Marx's d e s c r i p t i o n o f C h a p e l e t ' s c e r a m i c s i n C h a p t e r I , P a r t 2, n.31. 137 See t h e " C a t a l o g " i n Cezanne. The L a t e Work. 138 See Cezanne, l e t t e r t o E. B e r n a r d , 23 O c t . 1905, L e t t e r s , p. 317. 139 C a r l o s de C a s t e r a ( " S o l r a c " ) , " R e f l e c t i o n s s u r l e S a l o n d'Automne," L ' O c c i d e n t , Dec. 190 4, p. 30 7: Une s a l l e , presque e n t i e r e , e s t a l l o u e e aux e n v o i s de 1'adorable c o l o r i s t e M. V u i l l a r d . Tous ses t a b l e a u x s o n t de dimensions r e s t r e i n t e s e t ont l e charme de coupons d ' e t o f f e s p r e c i e u s e s que 1'on r e g a r d e non seulement pour l a beaute du t o n mais a u s s i pour l a p r e c i o s i t e de l a trame; comme e l l e s , i l s c o n t r i b u e n t a 1'embellissement des appartements modernes. - 292 - 140 D e n i s , T h e o r i e s , p. 208 141 See J . Gasquet, Cezanne, pp. Cezanne e t Z o l a , 1936, pp. 161-62. 116-17, and J . Rewald, 142 3221. Cezanne, l e t t e r t o h i s son, 12 Aug. 1906, L e t t e r s , 143 326 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o h i s son, 8 Sept. 1906, L e t t e r s , 144 145 Cezanne, l e t t e r t o B e r n a r d , 1905, p. 316 On the t o p i c o f Cezanne's c o n c e r n w i t h c o l o u r g r a d a t i o n s , l o c a l c o l o u r , and t h e o r i e s o f c o l o u r and l i g h t , see a l s o R o b e r t W. 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V e n t u r i , L i o n e l l o . Cezanne: son a r t - son o e u v r e . P a r i s : P a u l Rosenberg, 1936. V i o l l e t - l e - D u c , Eugene Emmanuel. D i c t i o n n a i r e r a i s o n n e de 1 ' a r c h i t e c t u r e f r a n c a i s e , x l - x v i s i e c l e s . 10 v o l s . E a r l s : M o r e l , 1858-1868; r p t . P a r i s : L i b r a i r i e s - I m p r i - m e r i e s R e u n i e s , n.d., V o l . V I I . • . " F i r s t L e c t u r e a t t h e E c o l e des B e a u x - A r t s , 1864." A r c h i t e c t u r a l D e s i g n , V o l . 50, No. 3/4, 1980, pp. 20-25. •- -. T e x t i n P e i n t u r e s m u r a l e s des c h a p e l l e s de N o t r e - Dame de P a r i s , P a r i s : A. M o r e l e t c , 1876. W e c h s l e r , J u d i t h , ed. Cezanne i n P e r s p e c t i v e . Englewood C l i f f s , N. J . : P r e n t i c e - H a l l , 1975. - 305 - Welsh-Ovcharov, B o g o m i l a . V i n c e n t van Gogh and the B i r t h o f C l o i s o n i s m . T o r o n t o : A r t G a l l , o f O n t a r i o , . 1 9 8 1 . W r i g h t , Gordon F r a n c e i n Modern Times: From t h e E n l i g h t e n - ment t o the P r e s e n t • C h i c a g o : Rand M c N a l l y , 1974. Z o l a , E m i l e . S a l o n s . Ed. F.W.J. Hemmings and R o b e r t J . N i e s s . P a r i s : L i b r . M i n a r d , 1959. Le Bon Combat. De Courbet aux I m p r e s s i o n n i s t e s . Ed. J e a n - P a u l B o u i l l o n . P a r i s : Hermann, 1974. - 306 - F i g . 2 - 307 - F i g . 4 - 308 - F i g . 5 - 309 - - 311 - - 312 - V-** *<*+J SeS&& "fr * •H - 313 - F i g . 12 - 314 - - 315 - F i g . 15 - 316 - F i g . 17 F i g . 19 - 318 - F i g . 20 - 319 - Fig. 2 2 
work_grrln3bepza2pos3egh5wpz3ru	----	FACT AND FIGURE: THE RHETORICITY OF THE DOCUMENT By 3AN S. PLECASH B.A., The University of British Columbia, 1980 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES Department of Sociology We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA August 1986 0 3 a n S. Plecash, 1986 In presenting t h i s thesis i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the Library s h a l l make i t f r e e l y available for reference and study. ,1 further agree that permission for extensive copying of t h i s thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. I t i s understood that copying or publication of t h i s thesis for f i n a n c i a l gain s h a l l not be allowed without my written permission. Department of A n t h r o p o l o g y a n d S o c i o l o g y The University of B r i t i s h Columbia 1956 Main Mall Vancouver, Canada V6T 1Y3 Date 2 S e p t e m b e r 1 9 8 6 11 A B S T R A C T The least remarked of sociological practices is the one without which its investigations would come to a standstill: the writing up of research results, both theoretical and substantive. This inattention is dependent upon a widely held view of writing as a technical apparatus which is more or less competently employed by researchers to represent those features of the social world with which they are concerned. The question addressed is whether and to what extent this commonplace commits sociology to a very old version of representation and a companion account of the true, which when expressed in other idioms are readily identified as problematic. With the aid of a type of analysis known as deconstruction, it is shown that a technical construal of writing is inseparable from and indispensable to the construction of fact, and thus to the very idea of documentation as a sheerly mimetic or descriptive relation of writing to a referent. The idea of a document is accordingly treated as the most powerful expression of a largely unacknowledged system of sense-making organizing sociological discourse. iii TABLE OF CONTENTS Page Abstract ii Acknowledgement iv Introduction The Rhetoricity of the Document 1 Chapter One Beginnings that have already Begun 5 I. A Persistent Malaise 7 II. A Version of Deconstruction 15 III. Sociological Sense-Making 21 Notes 24 Chapter Two Facts, Figures and the Principles of Accounting 26 I. The Facts (in Two Figures) 28 II. The Figuring 33 III. The Principle in Practice 37 1. 40 2. 41 3. 42 IV. The Practice 'in Principle' 43 Notes 51 Chapter Three Readings that have yet to be Done 53 I. An Old Story 53 II. Readings that will always need Doing: Some Last Remarks 59 Notes 61 Bibliography 62 iv A C K N O W L E D G E M E N T Many thanks are due R o y Turner and the remaining members of the thesis c o m m i t t e e : to R o y Turner more particularly for many years of provocative, stimulating and highly engaging instruction; and to A d r i a n Marriage for generous and attentive comments on the work-in-progress, including a very timely reminder that although agreement per se is never the issue, commensuration always i s . Thanks are also due Martha F o s c h i , for an unstinting vote of confidence which has extended over the past eight years, and for the intellectual exchanges and material support which have been generously given during the course of my graduate programme. F i n a l l y , to Jan Johnson, for a trying and often inconvenient job of word-processing, and for the truly rare friendship out of which it was undertaken. 1 I N T R O D U C T I O N The R h e t o r i c i t y of the Document B u t , it is said, melody is merely a succession of sounds. No doubt. And drawing is only an arrangement of colors. A n orator uses ink to write out his compositions: does that mean ink is a very eloquent liquid? (Rousseau, in D e r r i d a 1976:209) It will be the task of the thesis as a whole to rise in a particular way to the occasion of Rousseau's epigrammatic reminder that there is more to composition than meets the e y e . T h e following must therefore content itself with giving brief indications of the value of such a consideration for sociology. C e r t a i n l y questions concerning the premises and e f f e c t s of scholarly writing have been providing material for a variety of analyses, and lively debate, elsewhere. The A m e r i c a n philosopher R i c h a r d R o r t y for example has taken analytic philosophy to task for organizing its accounts around a naive 'foundationalism' which promotes an equally naive correspondence version of truth and representation (e.g. R o r t y 1979, 1980, 1982, 1984b, 1985a, 1985b). With others' analyses (e.g. C a v e l l 1985; D a n i e l 1982; Danto 1980, 1982, 1985; Davidson 1978; H a c k i n g 1984, 1985; L a n g 1983; Maclntyre 1977, 1984; R o r t y 1983; Taylor 1984b) this attention to the production of philosophical accounts has found counterparts in studies of economic argument (Gudeman 1984; M c C l o s k e y 1985), historiography (Boucher 1985; C a n a r y and K o z i c k i 1978; Condren 1982; Dover 1983; White 1973, 1978, 1980, 1982) and political theory (Connolly 1983; Sandel 1984; Shapiro 1984), among others. Taken together, such works argue forcefully for attending more closely to the letters of our respective laws. It is a recent exercise in sociological composition, however, which brings these issues into focus on more familiar territory. 2 In his Matters of Fact (1979), the sociologist Stanley Raffel poses a number of questions concerning the routine conduct of sociological investigation and the equally routinized assumptions which support it. These questions take on particular significance in relation to two recent developments. The first is a widely diagnosed malaise within the discipline which has been finding expression in the use of such terms as 'crisis', 'indirection', 'chronic disagreement', 'cross-talk', 'non- communication' and the like. The second, not unrelated, is the increasing use of such phrases as 'post-empiricism', 'post-positivism' and 'the postmodern', along with such designations as 'metatheory' and 'meta-analysis', to indicate if not the deed then the desirability of leaving behind what has been ailing us and getting on with more important matters: matters of fact, which as Raffel points out have come largely to define sociology's self-understanding. Crediting this compelling sense of malaise (as well as the desire to rectify it) Raffel makes a strong case for its being, not an accident that befalls sociology from outside, but a consequence that is built into its routines and thus a function of their very exercise. In what is an extremely fine-grained analysis, Raffel applies to sociology one of sociology's most productive insights, namely, that it is in the most obvious and taken-for-granted of practices and artifacts that one is apt to find the most powerful and unexamined workings of a tradition or institutional arrangement that would elsewhere elicit questioning. Sociology's is a peculiar self-understanding, Raffel suggests, for if its world is liberally, perhaps even too liberally populated with phenomena, there is also one phenomenon which is supposed to be absent from it at all times: the sociologist, in his capacity as an observer. "We need", says Raffel, a rendering of the standard normative order of social science which methodically selects and distinguishes truth-producing scientific recording, apparently on the basis of presence and absence (1979:13) It is in the routine practice of observation and its artifact, the record or the 3 document, that this system of presence and absence is most powerfully operative, expressing and perpetuating a very old idea that representation is a relation of words to things. Raffel's analysis converges in a potentially instructive way with those of a school of contemporary French philosophy which has come to be known as "deconstruction". Its chief practitioner, Jacques Derrida, has suggested that the common construal of writing as mere notation or as a technical apparatus is the last and most powerful of Western ethnocentrisms (Derrida 1976). This is a provocative challenge to the interests of the social sciences in accounting for the institutional configurations of modern societies. For present purposes, the connexion the thesis intends to explore is that between a technical or notational view of writing and what Raffel terms "truth- producing scientific recording" as embodied in the document. Observation as the process of documentation of phenomena would then depend upon an opposition that the idea of a record already implies - - the opposition of literal or technical, and literary representation. The question to be addressed is how the truth value of a document is made to depend upon the maintenance of this opposition, and at what cost. Some of the most powerful deconstructive analyses have been directed at the uses of this opposition of the literal and the literary, or of technical versus metaphorical language, in the non-literary disciplines (e.g., n. 3, pp. 24-25 infra). These works ultimately offer a difficult and extensive redirection of the concept of writing which in complexity passes well beyond the scope of the thesis to present. It will therefore be concerned with developing a context in which the need for such a 4 reconceptualization would have sense, in terms of the question given above. It should be noted only, as a variety of orienting device, that deconstructive analyses often proceed by juxtaposing what is ordinarily taken as the primary signification of a given term with 'subsidiary' connotations which may disturb this meaning, place it in a different relation with its surrounding text, or call up unusual associations which are also to be given argumentive value. This is not an easily accommodated practice, a circumstance the following takes into account as best it can without sacrificing the insights this type of analysis can bring to bear. 5 C H A P T E R O N E Beginnings that have already Begun However the topic is considered, the problem of language has never been simply one problem among others (Derrida 1976:6) If the d i f f i c u l t y of finding alternative formulations is any indication, the problem of language is indeed conceived in sociology as a technical one: a problem of securing adequate descriptions, for which methodological prescriptions abound. Similarly it is a description which the following purports to offer: "If sociology could speak" says J e f f r e y A l e x a n d e r , "it would say, 'I am tired' " (1984:xiii). This interesting construction occurs at the beginning of an introduction, as the first f o r m a l utterance of a scholarly text which announces its disciplinary filiation in its title: T h e o r e t i c a l L o g i c in Sociology, Volume One . . . . Its interest lies in its adumbrating a certain reception, or counting on an audience which can be expected to know, and very probably assent to, 'what it means'. While the latter is no simple question, it has with respect to this probable audience a simple, i.e. conventional, answer: it is 'just' a figure of speech. If sociology could speak it might say any number of things, but of course sociology does not speak: its objects do. Both author and audience, in this sense, already begin by subordinating the language of the document to the language of the documented. Nonetheless, this mere metaphor does a considerable amount of work, permitting some operations that may well occasion recognition. Because sociology does not speak, it tells us, it is necessary that someone speak on its behalf. T h a t i s , as itself an object of sociological interest, sociology requires like any other 6 sociological object an independent observer to record the verities of its condition. The figure consequently comes to assert a fact, a transubstantiation which would seem to disturb its conventional disposition as an inessential extra. Sociology, in the manner of exemplary facts, is currently informing all qualified or sufficiently attentive observers that it is suffering from a sort of fatigue. In particular, it is suffering from the sort of fatigue which requires a remedy: "Sociology is tired. It must be revived, or revivified" (Alexander 1984:xv). This 'mere figure' consequently (or from the start) warrants a remedial project whose urgency and imperative it serves to locate 'in the object itself. Nor does it leave untouched possibilities concerning the nature of the remedy, trading on the situation's being known or knowable as an ill(ness) per se (or from the start). It seems reasonably certain that the recommended treatment will not be a good night's sleep. The very idea seems trivial or frivolous, calculated to offend, whereas the figure under consideration above all delineates a terrain which could be called serious — a habitation or a property to which the text and its project may lay claim. It is because such a response is so easily envisioned that its occasion deserves closer scrutiny than it usually receives; and it is because the response speaks precisely to a natural and obvious understanding of its occasion that such scrutiny proves difficult to negotiate. What is to be made, when writing already has a place in sociology, of the place of writing in sociology? If the introduction has sought to give some sense of the pertinence of this question, it will be the task of the first chapter to begin to give it a context: first, by asking whether the relation between the literary and the literal which is being asserted in Alexander's figures does not draw upon a largely unexamined history for its effectiveness; second, by considering an instance of its effectiveness in the way it has prefigured a particular reception of 7 deconstructive analyses among A n g l o - A m e r i c a n scholars; and third, by preparing for a closer consideration of its sociological uses in the construction of 'matters of f a c t ' . I. A Persistent Malaise T h u s , while it might rather seem that the introduction has answered the question in terms of a pervasive rhetoric or ideology and that the first chapter now inexplicably threatens some species of literary analysis, it is worth considering that the opposition of content and form which such a gloss assumes, or the stability of opposition it requires, speaks again to the already-constructed place of writing in sociology. Alexander's figures are invoked not as objects of aesthetic appreciation but for their evocation of and c o m p l i c i t y in a familiar convention of introductions. They refer us to a f a c t , in this case to the presence of a malaise whose meaning, qua malaise, is s e l f - e v i d e n t . T h e convention thus entails the construction of acquaintance being e f f e c t e d in a 'now' to which both author and audience are typically party. T h e r e is no reason to suppose that this p r a c t i c e is any less determinate in its end and powerful in its operation than the familiar and complementary closure of conclusions (the figuration of an acquaintance made: of a knowledge duly revealed, finally fixed or completely captured). A c c o r d i n g l y , there may be no better way of broaching the strangeness of introducing than by acknowledging a point of entry as the fruit of already having entered that to which it is to give a c c e s s . Such an acknowledgement is pertinent, a propos Alexander's figures, to the extent that it raises the possibility of their belonging somewhere rather than nowhere, that i s , to a structure or system of deeply sedimented practices rather than to a curious insubstantiality 'given' by the f a c t that they are mere signs. If there is a very powerful sense in which their meaning is 8 known before their meaning becomes a question, surely it is because the c a l l for renewal has already been heard. One such c a l l was offered some 350 years ago and retains a good deal of the forcefulness with which it diagnoses a similar malaise. "I will say nothing of philosophy," says Descartes in the D i s c o u r s e , "except that it has been studied for many centuries by the most outstanding minds without having produced anything which is not in dispute and consequently doubtful and uncertain" (1960:8). The whole of Descartes' introduction is bent on demonstrating the inevitability of this diagnosis to an audience for whom it would not have had the self-evidence Alexander can assume. T h a t i s , Descartes must produce, in a way that Alexander need not, the 'self-evidence' of the f a c t he wishes to secure. It is therefore worth paying close attention to the rhetorical operations of his text: we are not only a c t i v e l y persuaded to the f a c t of this malaise but to those assumptions concerning the nature and purpose of inquiry which make it one, and accordingly to the sort of remedy they underwrite. This is of no small importance in beginning to get a grip on what Alexander (or sociology) must assume about the l i t e r a l and the literary in order to assume the self-evidence of its 'current' malaise. "I will say nothing of philosophy except that it has been studied for many centuries by the most outstanding minds without having produced anything which is not in dispute and consequently doubtful and uncertain" (ibid.). This pronouncement also occurs in an introduction, then, near its e n d , and after a great deal has been said or intimated concerning philosophy, the school and the departments of knowledge. Descartes' 'now' is like Alexander's a recapitulation of something known or knowable, something to which assent could be envisioned: "Good sense is mankind's most equitably divided endowment . . . " (1960:3). So far is this the case that even the 9 "most d i f f i c u l t to please . . . do not usually want more than they have of this," which goes to show that the ability to judge c o r r e c t l y , and to distinguish the true from the false — which is really what is meant by good sense or reason - - is the same by innate nature in all men; and that differences of opinion are not due to differences in intelligence, but merely to the f a c t that we use different approaches and consider different things (1960:3-4). In consequence, only incredulity and disaffection can greet philosophy's failure to recuperate in its proceedings the original unity of reason which is its (true) foundation. T h e vehicle of this assessment is the personal history Descartes relates following his assertion of the universality of reason ("I only propose this writing as an autobiography, or, if you prefer, as a story in which you may possibly find some examples of conduct which you might see fit to imitate . . . " 1960:5). T h e disingenuousness of this construction is a complex one. Since the unity of reason is a unity repeated in every man (that "most equitably divided endowment"), and its community accordingly the aggregate of such unities, the (true) experience of any m a n , properly apprehended and reported, will be the (true) representation of this whole. Descartes' disillusionment with the "world of books" then becomes a disillusion grounded in R e a s o n . It is Reason's disillusionment, revealed in and by means of D e s c a r t e s . T h e emptiness of the school's promise to provide by means of books "a clear and assured knowledge of everything useful in life"; its resultant culpability for the f a c t that Descartes reports himself at the end of his course saddled with so many doubts and errors that I seemed to have gained nothing in trying to educate myself unless it was to discover more and more fully how ignorant I was (1960:3); all of this becomes Reason's indictment of a fallen philosophy, its characterization of the history of philosophy 'until now' as a repository of quarrelsome misadventure. 10 Reason has, therefore, very definite opinions as to the proper place of philosophy, its proper t i m e , and the corresponding propriety of its (true) knowledge. D e s c a r t e s / R e a s o n grants that there is some purpose to the study of languages, f i c t i o n and history. T h e first gives access to "the works of the ancients", the second in its "delicacy . . . refines and enlivens the mind", while the third, provided it is "read with understanding", may not only "ennoble" the mind but help quicken its judgement (1960:6). Reading the greats "is like conversing with the best people of earlier times: it is even a studied conversation in which the authors show us only the best of their thoughts". "Eloquence" likewise "has incomparable powers and beauties", poetry "enchanting delicacy and sweetness" and ethical argument "very useful teachings and exhortations to virtue", while theology secures heaven for the latter's many supplicants. Mathematics receives the least summary treatment in this almost affable catalogue, offering "very subtle processes which can serve as much to satisfy the inquiring mind as to aid all the arts and diminish man's labor", while a tone of faint praise becomes sharp with respect to philosophy 'until now', which in its primary value "teaches us to talk with an appearance of truth about all things, and to make ourselves admired by the less learned". The catalogue concludes, or nearly s o , with "law, medicine and the other sciences", which "bring honors and wealth to those who pursue them", but remain as conspicuously removed from generating truth(s) as any other aspirant on the l i s t , including m a t h e m a t i c s , whose 'subtle processes' are invoked as a potential yet to be r e a l i z e d , or as the adumbration of a promise. In the end, then, the value of the school lies in its revealing the absence of Descartes'/Reason's desideratum in any of its departments. What is "finally . . . desirable" about the disciplines is "to have examined them a l l , even to the most superstitious and f a l s e , in order to recognize their real worth and avoid being deceived thereby" (1960:6). T o "read with understanding", that i s , to exercise the judgement quickened 11 in the most urgent sense by the disastrous history of all previous philosophy, is consequently to accept the partition and reconstruction of philosophy already underway in this carefully disposed tribute. It will come as no surprise that while it is good to study languages and the thought of the ancients, as well as their fictions and histories, it is not a good proper to Reason: F o r conversing with the ancients is much like traveling. It is good to know something of the customs of various peoples, in order to judge our own more objectively, and so that we do not make the mistake of the untraveled in supposing that everything contrary to our customs is ridiculous and i r r a t i o n a l . But when one spends too much time traveling, one becomes at last a stranger at home; and those who are too interested in things which occurred in past centuries are often remarkably ignorant of what is going on today (1960:6-7). T h a t engagement with the past is 'like travel' suggests that the past is essentially rather than accidentally or contingently foreign to the present. What could be more foreign than the customs of other peoples, since their otherness is what forces a conception of the own-ness of one's own into sharpest relief? It is not interest in philosophy 'until now' which is wanted, but attention to philosophy 'from now on'. Since the past does not communicate essentially with the present, since it is essentially other than the present, why indeed spend more time there than is necessary to discover or confirm this truth? Nevertheless there is talk of judging our own customs by means of this essentially alien(ated) past, which suggests equally that the home to which travelers are urged in no way coincides with the mundane present of a l i t e r a l reading of "what is going on today". O n the contrary, the figure of travel reacts as much on existing arrangements within and beyond the school as it does on past c u s t o m . What is wanted above all is that the addressees of Descartes' autobiography should not remain strangers to their true home, the community of R e a s o n . T h e past is not invoked to corroborate a difference already realized in the present but to justify a project ~ a homecoming — beginning 'now' and entailing the 12 repudiation of both past and present. L i k e the pursuits of the ancients, then, those of the existing school (and of s o c i e t y , seen as the larger embodiment of custom) are to be found good only on condition that their goods are essentially rather than contingently foreign to the Good of R e a s o n . So it happens that every subject of the syllabus reappears (with favourable dispensation again reserved, not for the existing but for a potential 'mathematics') accompanied by the "but . . . " which, excluding it from the discourse of R e a s o n , defines and re-defines the latter's p r o p e r t y . ! j h e incitement is to 'remedy', i.e. the recuperation of this property in a reality which, though always secured by i t , has always been disposed to it in the wrong way. Convention or custom in its several guises thus invokes a villain against which all of Descartes' writing is m o b i l i z e d . One learns from travel that the essence of custom is that it can always have been otherwise, that it is in this sense 'arbitrary', while it is the very property of the true that it cannot have been, and can never be, other than what it i s . In its mundane course in the world, custom d i f f e r s , from itself viewed from the pivot of its own history and from other equally mutable customs with which it may be juxtaposed from time to t i m e , while it is the very property of the true that it is always the same, i.e. remains the same in its self-sameness. The whole of existing philosophy has been an offense and a corruption ('false', consigned to 'appearances') because it has permitted dispute, while it is the very task of Reason to regain or return in its accounts to its original unity, an imperative supplied and secured by the f a c t of this unity (or this origin) i t s e l f . Nothing need be said of philosophy for its history is replete with examples of its cardinal error: the "many different opinions learned men may hold on the same subject, despite the f a c t that no more than one of them can ever be right" (1960:8, emphasis added). Similarly s o c i e t y , for one finds there "just about as much difference of opinion" as is to be "remarked among philosophers" (1960:9). 13 T h e error of custom with respect to its true ground is consequently that it has always constituted a corruption of its proper representational f u n c t i o n . T h e community of Reason will eschew the time and place of custom altogether so as to be(come) the perfect representation, the complete picture, the proper copy in all of its parts, of the unity from which it springs. The true place of this community is therefore to be removed from the particulars (differences) of any particular place, and its true time is to be removed from the particulars (differences) of any particular t i m e . The timeless, placeless unity out of which this community will proceed is already known, for we are told at the beginning of Descartes' story that differences are so many accidental accretions or impingements on a self which is defined essentially by the f a c t that Reason is "fully present" within it (1960:4). D e s c a r t e s - the-traveler attains this ground at the end of the introduction ("I eventually reached the decision to study my own self, and to employ all my abilities to try to choose the right path" 1960:9) but his pilgrimage is related by the reconstituted Descartes (Reason), "possibly" for imitation (1960:5). The right path is consequently also available from the start. Since "differences of opinion" are purely a c c i d e n t a l , "not due to differences in intelligence, but merely to the f a c t that we use different approaches and consider different things" (1960:4), we should use the same approach and consider the same things. That i s , we should adopt a m i m e t i c approach, since the right relation of the community of Reason to its ground is one of faithful reproduction (imitation), and consider the things proper to this relation: only such things as present themselves with the same unity or presence as the universal subject of R e a s o n . So begins the Discourse on the Method of Rightly Conducting the Reason and Seeking the T r u t h in the F i e l d of S c i e n c e . N o w , questions of 'method' (proper representation or adequate description) have become perhaps as familiar to sociological p r a c t i c e as questions of 'rhetoric' or 14 of the 'literary' have become f o r e i g n . T h a t they have become in this sense such familiar opposites, so obviously foreign to each other as to go without saying, is very much to the point. Alexander's figures depend upon this opposition of the l i t e r a l and the literary for their ultimate or commonly supposed 'literality', i.e. for their propriety in evoking a situation which disposes not only an object but an audience, not only a f a c t but knowledge of what to do about i t . Reading them through Descartes is one way of recalling how extensively situated they already a r e , i.e. how they utilize and recapitulate a history of signifying practices to which they belong. T o be sure, Descartes' story proceeds out of and returns to a 'subject' c a l l e d the self or reason while that of sociology stakes itself on regaining an 'object' called the s o c i a l , but the name of the homecoming in each case is 'method'; the imperative of the return an impaired correspondence with its origin or ground; the means of return a reproduction of that with which proper correspondence is to be restored; and the moment of restoration envisioned as an identity established once and for all: an imitation so perfect that it will cease to be i m i t a t i o n , not a picture or a story but the picture or the story, the p i c t u r e - b e c o m e - l i t e r a l and the s t o r y - b e c o m e - d o c u m e n t . Both claim the l i t e r a l as their proper domain, mutatis mutandis, by asking not to be taken as writing: rather the record of a purer form of speech or perhaps the purest speech, v i z . the presence of that of which they are the re-presentation. Sociology already positions writing, then, within and among its situating p r a c t i c e s . Writing already has a value and a particular e f f i c a c y in its production of knowledge, one expression of which is the belief that one can always come 'now' or 'newly' to a text or a body of work. In this belief, Descartes' essentially reasonable subjects and sociology's essentially communicable objects meet in that timeless, placeless essence of a text or corpus called its meaning, faithful to a mode of reading which believes itself fundamentally innocent of any determination or construction of 15 what it reads. Meaning, like a f a c t , is supposed already to be present or self-evident in the text, and reading, like observation, only a matter so to speak of receiving it 'without distortion'. It is not infrequently with this expectation, and at its least remarked or d i f f e r e n t i a t e d , that deconstructive analyses have been approached. II. A Version of Deconstruction In his c r i t i c a l and descriptive account of contemporary F r e n c h philosophy, commissioned specifically for English-speaking readers, the F r e n c h philosopher Vincent Descombes remarks: It should not be believed that the authority a work may carry is the result of its having been read, studied and finally judged convincing. T h e reverse is true: reading derives from a prior c o n v i c t i o n . Works are preceded by rumour (1980:4). Although its immediate context is the reception and circulation of philosophical utterance in F r a n c e from 1930 onward, the character of its publicity inside the university and out in its pedagogical, professional and everyday appropriations, the remark also has application to the itinerary of the work in question, elaborated in F r e n c h philosophical c i r c l e s during the 1960s and, since roughly 1970, finding its way in translation to and through the institutional configurations of A n g l o - A m e r i c a n universities. 'Rumour' in particular offers an apt characterization of the situation of its reception. Descombes quotes Maurice Blanchot: " 'What I learn from rumour, I have necessarily heard already' . . . . the text with which we fall in love will be the one wherein what we already know can be learned and relearned" (ibid.). One implication of Blanchot's remark is that reliance on rumour both expresses and requires the conviction that nothing regarding the parameters of its givens is in need of a r t i c u l a t i o n . Descartes writes with the utmost assurance of rumour in this sense. He 16 already 'knows' what inquiry is, what it is f o r , whence it comes and that it in no way a f f e c t s the fundamental nature of its objects: quite the contrary, if the Discourse is read with the understanding it solicits. H e r e it is intended that 'rumour' should capture the peculiar availability of this conviction as it informs responses to deconstruction. In its ordinary uses, 'rumour' always implies a context which is never self-evident: while it is known to arise 'somewhere', this is typically acknowledged in the phrase that it appears 'out of nowhere'. We 'just know' what rumour has to tell us: its message is as palpable, in the form of the already known, as its context is e f f a c e d . We might therefore speak of a rumour of readerly innocence or of unconditional receptivity which at once accomplishes the highly s p e c i f i c prefigurations of meaning considered in Descartes' and sociology's malaise, and effaces the accomplishment, submerging the expectations and the tradition which give it f o r c e . Jacques D e r r i d a has given an instructive characterization of the way in which, as commonly p r a c t i c e d , c r i t i c a l commentary no less than exegesis subscribes to this tradition: T h e security with which the commentary considers the self- identity of the text, the confidence with which it carves out its contour, goes hand in hand with the tranquil assurance that leaps over the text toward its presumed content, in the direction of the pure signified (1976:158^1 In this assurance it is not too d i f f i c u l t to find traces of Descartes' and sociology's m i m e t i c aspirations. One can 'leap over the text' only on condition that the text is believed to be essentially rather than contingently foreign to the content it conveys. T h u s , rumour already knows what (there is) to look for in its reading m a t e r i a l . That i s , it already knows that reading is a matter of looking, or rather, of leaping. In relation to its being conceived as a picture or a r e c o r d , ideally a species of mirror for 17 the presence which precedes and secures its r e f e r e n c e , such features of a text as its m a t e r i a l i t y , the workings and history of its form(al devices), its language or its belonging to language, in a word its 'textuality' or its 'written-ness', take on a decidedly marginal c a s t , presenting themselves, if at a l l , precisely as things to look over. N o t that these are unimportant as such, it may readily be admitted by philosophers and sociologists alike, but such considerations are, w e l l , literary or at best a matter for literary history. A n d literature is foreign to the language of the r e a l . It is thus worth considering, and a circumstance which sits rather poorly with the conviction of unconditional r e c e p t i v i t y , that while D e r r i d a is by training, proclivity and profession what would ordinarily be c a l l e d a philosopher, native to the linguistic and scholarly tradition Descombes undertakes to make accessible, his work has nevertheless entered the institutions of A n g l o - A m e r i c a n scholarship by way of literature: literary theory and c r i t i c i s m . A m o n g the works introduced under this entry, or assigned this heading, the first paper published in English translation (Derrida 1970) deals not with what would ordinarily be understood as a literary topic but rather with the place of a certain problematic, v i z . interpretation, in ethnology and more generally in those disciplines designated in F r a n c e as the 'human sciences'. S i m i l a r l y , and again in terms of quite conventional classifications of subject m a t t e r , the remark c i t e d above occurs in the course of a sustained analysis of the way in which a complex valorization of speech in relation to writing (or of presence vs. absence) deeply informs Saussure's reform of linguistics and its more recent variants, L e v i - S t r a u s s ' anthropology, and Rousseau's husbandry of the idea and the absolute value of a natural, spontaneous subject in a range of his writings (a project L e v i - Strauss' indebtedness to which is examined in detail). P l a t o , A r i s t o t l e , D e s c a r t e s , L e i b n i t z , C o n d i l l a c , K a n t , H e g e l , H u s s e r l , Heidegger, N i e t z s c h e , F r e u d , P i e r c e , 18 Austin and Searle number among still others drawn into the engagement pursued in these and other texts, an engagement which continually crosses paths with and examines its own rootedness in the history of the latter valorization (see e . g . D e r r i d a 1973, 1977, 1978a, 1978b, 1981a, 1981b, 1981c, 1982b, 1982c, 1984b). This is not to suggest that D e r r i d a has not treated of literary matters. Indeed he has, not infrequently in the same texts which address philosophical matters (e.g. 1978b, 1980, 1981a, 1981d, 1984a, 1985b), but cohabitation of the literary and the l i t e r a l in one text is not unprecedented. Many of the thinkers noted above have written on such literary matters as aesthetics, theatre, poetry and the n o v e l , without it ceasing thereby to go without saying that they are engaged in a serious or consequential undertaking. Derrida's supposed literarity on the other hand, seems to have marked for a decade and more a certain dubiousness or unease, precisely as regards the seriousness or consequentiality of his work 'outside of literature'. Similarly it is in a typical reading that Alexander's figures no less than Descartes' pass without c o m m e n t . This is the most interesting thing about t h e m , if in f a c t it should be the figures themselves which are credited with the e f f e c t . Perhaps a warrant for identifying Derrida's work with the literary should therefore be sought in some explicit statement or manifesto? H e r e rumour might suppose itself c o n f i r m e d in its conviction for many utterances could be thought to secure i t , for example the comment in a recent paper that my most constant interest, coming even before my philosophical interest I should say, if this is possible, has been directed toward l i t e r a t u r e , toward that writing which is called literary (1983b:37).2 It is not inconceivable, however, that an interest in literature, in writing which comes to be c a l l e d l i t e r a r y , could as readily designate a p o l i t i c a l , h i s t o r i c a l , philosophical or sociological question as it could a literary one: and again even with reference to its 19 own experience rumour would be obliged to admit that it has. The text above continues, giving some sense of the scope of Derrida's interest: What is literature? A n d first of all what is it 'to write'? How is it that the f a c t of writing can disturb the very question 'what is?' and even 'what does it mean?' T o say this in other words — and here is the saying otherwise that was of importance to me — when and how does an inscription become literature and what takes place when it does? T o what and to whom is this due? What takes place between philosophy and l i t e r a t u r e , science and l i t e r a t u r e , theology and l i t e r a t u r e , psychoanalysis and literature? (1983b:37-38). It is not d i f f i c u l t within the terms of rumour, or of a mode of reading with aspirations to l i t e r a l i t y , to reconstruct the offending 'implication' here. It might run a little as follows: ' A n interest in literature is f i n e , but this interest has nihilistic tendencies. It promises not a philosophy or sociology or history of l i t e r a t u r e , not a politics or theology or psychology of l i t e r a t u r e , and least of all a science of literature. Instead it proposes to combine, indeed to mix up these obviously distinct undertakings and concerns. Since the consequences of such a leveling are well known, how can a body of work proposing it be taken seriously in the final analysis?' What this response fails to take into consideration is that the reception of deconstruction (or any other body of writing) already implicates a complex institution, a structure or a signifying practice in which philosophical, s c i e n t i f i c , s o c i o l o g i c a l , h i s t o r i c a l , p o l i t i c a l , theological, psychological and literary questions are not in danger of merging, but already have, in the form of a particular ensemble or arrangement which has become too obvious for words. Within this institution, then, whose form like Alexander's figures might also be seen to belong somewhere rather than nowhere, i.e. to the mode of reading espoused in its several departments rather than to a curious immanence 'given' by the f a c t that the world has obligingly divided itself into subject matters, the name like 20 writing already has a p l a c e , value and situating c a p a c i t y . If there is a principle governing the self-identity of the disciplines, for example, perhaps it is the belief that they should be essentially rather than contingently foreign to each other, and that any with a claim to serious or consequential status should certainly stand in this relation to literature. Posed in this c o n t e x t , the question "What is literature?" offers at least this much for consideration: however one may seek to define the presence or essence it too may be thought to name, it has what would appear to be an essential (irreducible) function in securing the identity of other names. Philosophy, sociology, history and the like have been defined or ascribed essence by their opposition to literature; which is to say that writing, or the l i t e r a r y , has a very powerful role in the espousal and negotiation of identity, property and propriety, that i s , in the construction and maintenance of boundaries, both of disciplines and of sense and in both senses of discipline and sense. If there is a principle which has guided much of the reading of deconstruction within the disciplines, then, perhaps it is the belief that there should be an essential (impermeable) boundary between the essential and the contingent, the literal and the l i t e r a r y , f a c t and figure, the documented and the document, content and f o r m , i.e. between presence and absence (non-presence), whatever their proxies. The construction of deconstruction as yet another, and faulty or improper, name is then a consequence of rumour. Though D e r r i d a himself now employs 'deconstruction' (" . . . a word I have never liked and one whose fortunes have disagreeably surprised me" 1983b:44) as an ellipsis, it is not as an ellipsis for the essence or meaning rumour anticipates and finds l a c k i n g . Rather it remains in his work and that of some other very able practitioners one of many reminders (with, e . g . 'de-constituting', 'de- sedimenting', 'undoing', 'disassembling', 'unravelling', 'displacing', 'de-posing') of the situation and task of analysis which necessarily begins by already having begun.3 21 III. Sociological Sense-Making It seems not inconceivable, even quite evident, that an undoing must differ a little from what it undoes. This need has nevertheless proved perhaps the major stalling point in attempted appropriations of Derrida's work, often serving as the fulcrum around which prior knowledge turns to c o n v i c t i o n . A reason suggests itself as w e l l , for a typical reading does not conceive of itself as doing anything. The presumption of readerly innocence or of unconditional receptivity is at the same time the presumption that the object of reading is s e l f - c o m m u n i c a t i n g . A f o r t i o r i , therefore, reading itself is not doing anything that needs undoing, and it is inconceivable that the object of reading (meaning, content) could do other than what it does, or be other than what it is, in presenting itself. In this c o n t e x t , which is always inexplicit or e f f a c e d by the very guidance of its presumption, differing or undoing would imply at the least what Descartes found intolerable in the essentially 'literary' departments of his school — a l i c e n c e to "embroider" (1960:7) or to make inaccurate representations. A t the l i m i t , it would be seen to threaten the complete collapse of representation, as was noted above. Put otherwise, the collapse of representation would imply the permanent exile from truth that it is precisely the destiny of Reason to o v e r c o m e . Taken as the emblem of both the homecoming and the home announced in the Discourse, the idea of representation (imitation) sediments a very complex inheritance. T h a t it is not an inheritance to which sociology is too foreign on the one hand may be gathered from Alexander's c a l l to remedy: Descartes' method is above all conceived and executed as remedy, and with reference to the same ill(ness). T h a t it remains an inheritance not yet too f a m i l i a r , on the other hand, may also be gathered from Alexander's c a l l to remedy: like Descartes' it foregoes or forecloses any queries as to the possibility of 22 the remedy's belonging to the ill(ness) it seeks to c u r e . In sociology, as R a f f e l shows, 'matters of fact' are taken to define the l i m i t of inquiry and the truth of its instances independently of its conduct. T h a t f a c t is s e l f - s u f f i c i e n t or capable of revealing itself in its entirety, that as meaning or presence it persists in a 'before' or a 'beyond' of its cursive or discursive presentation, is what makes it the guarantor of the latter imitations, i.e. the property which secures their propriety (truth) — in other words, a ground. Here the more s p e c i f i c expectations apt to be brought to reading material concerned with inquiry find their p l a c e . T o be expected is a fully justified set of procedures for a right relation to the facts (a method), or at least the justification (a theory), i.e. a properly m i m e t i c account of the facts to which procedures for a right relation remain to be elaborated. It is proposed to differ a little from the way in which method and theory so construed seem to exhaust the possibilities for such talk. R a t h e r than passing to a catalogue of rights and wrongs and thence to c o r r e c t i o n s , the following chapter will attempt to trace how f a c t belongs to the system at work in Descartes' investiture of reason and in the reception of deconstruction, first in a general way and then as regards a case of sociological sense-making which is not yet finished, though it has produced a battery of conclusions. A s R a f f e l reconstructs t h e m , 'matters of fact' are above a l l a set of representational requirements whose e f f e c t s and whose roots extend well beyond the assumed boundaries of theory and method. Sociology's preoccupation with matters of f a c t , then, is already a preoccupation with a c e r t a i n kind of writing. The reception of T . S. Kuhn's work may offer a more compelling consideration of the way this foreknowledge of 'writing' passes into 'reading'. Perhaps it is significant, for 23 e x a m p l e , t h a t o n e o f t h e ' d i f f i c u l t i e s ' o f h i s w o r k s e e m s t o h a v e b e e n t h e s u g g e s t i o n t h a t a ' p a r a d i g m ' i s n o t , s t r i c t l y s p e a k i n g , a t h e o r y . If t h e t e r m h a s b e c o m e c o m m o n c o i n a g e , a p r o c e s s ' d e c o n s t r u c t i o n ' i s a l s o u n d e r g o i n g , p e r h a p s i t i s l e s s t h e r e s u l t o f a n i m p r o v e d u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h a n o f a n a p p r o v e d i n c o r p o r a t i o n . ^ A t i t s m o s t i n c l u s i v e , a n d as i t h a s a l r e a d y b e e n i n t r o d u c e d , t h e i t i n e r a r y o f c o n c e r n t o t h e t h e s i s i s c o n s e q u e n t l y t h e w a y i n w h i c h s o c i o l o g y ' s p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h f a c t (or i t s t r e a t m e n t o f w r i t i n g ) i s a l s o a p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h a v e r y o l d a n d v e r y p o w e r f u l s t o r y a b o u t t h e t r u e . 24 N O T E S 1 Thus for example, Reason's habitation in the true is marked by its difference from f i c t i o n , which "makes us imagine a number of events as possible which are really impossible"; from history, which inevitably falls short of accurate representation either by augmenting the real with the imaginary or by failing to attain completeness, omitting "the meanest and least illustrious circumstances so that the remainder is distorted"; from 'eloquence' and poetry, which subsist on the order of "gifts of nature rather than fruits of study" (1960:7). T h e extrusion of rhetoric from (true) philosophy is particularly interesting. In juxtaposition with poetry it becomes possible to intimate to good e f f e c t that the former is as essentially superfluous to Reason as the latter is foreign by virtue of belonging to the imagination, and to align both with convention qua art(ifice) — i.e. to promote an ironic reading of 'gifts of nature': Those who reason most cogently, and work over their thoughts to make them clear and intelligible, are always the most persuasive, even if they speak only a provincial dialect and have never studied r h e t o r i c . Those who have the most agreeable imaginations . . . cannot fail to be the best poets, even if the poetic art is unknown to them (1960:7, emphasis added). 1 This paper is one of the contributions to an anthology conceived in the same spirit of communicative exchange between two latterly 'separate' or for the most part inwardly elaborated scholarly traditions as is Descombes (1980). It is especially noteworthy in its departure from the anthologizing convention which would divide the field ('French philosophy') by topic or controversy and solicit comprehensive reviews under each heading. The eleven contributors were instead requested "to present to the English-speaking reader their own view of their own work as they now see it in relation to the context in which they are working and, perhaps, to the reactions which they might expect it to provoke" (Montefiore 1983:viii). T h e result is an exceedingly provocative representation covering in its way much the same historical terrain as Descombes' account, and recurring with equally instructive diversity to the analytic challenges posed by the institutional imbeddedness of the conventional idea of representation and its correlates. See in addition to Montefiore's introduction the contributions of E m m a n u e l L e v i n a s , J e a n - F r a n c o i s L y o t a r d , Pierre Bourdieu, and again D e s c o m b e s . 3 Only brief indications can be given of an indebtedness which the thesis will not be able to discharge. It follows from much of the preceding discussion that an important consequence of deconstruction's long sojourn in the 'literary' departments (literary c r i t i c i s m , l i t e r a t u r e , comparative l i t e r a t u r e , languages), where it has been elaborated into a considerably differentiated set of discourses, is that its practitioners are apt to be overlooked by virtue of their 'belonging' there. See therefore, for a sense of the shape of this work and its internal debates, but also for the way in which it continually and often provocatively addresses its 'outside' (philosophy, history, the social sciences), Jonathan C u l l e r (1982, which remains 25 perhaps the most accessible point of entry for the unfamiliar; also his 1981 and 1975 on structuralisms and semiotics); Paul de Man (1978, 1979, 1982a, 1983a); David Carroll (1978, 1982); Barbara Johnson (1980a, 1982); Timothy Bahti (1979a, 1979b, 1981a, 1981b, 1985); Suzanne Gearhart (1983, 1984); Gerald Bruns (1980, 1984); Eugenio Donato (1977, 1984); Davis & Schleifer (1985); Krupnick (1983, which includes a contribution from Michael Ryan: "Deconstruction and Social Theory: The Case of Liberalism"); and finally, the symposium in which Derrida's (1970) occurs. * Raffel is not the only sociologist to have made inroads into this territory. In very different ways, the German sociologist Wolf Lepenies' work on the construction of disciplinary identities (see in particular his 1984; also Graham, Lepenies & Weingart 1983), and the British sociologist Ricca Edmonson's formal study of rhetorical construction in sociological argument (1984), speak to the need of undoing or resituating what we routinely do. The American sociologist Charles Lemert has also been indefatigible in undertaking both to familiarize Anglo-American social scientists with their French counterparts and to make fruitful appropriations of Derrida's and others' work (see e.g. Lemert 1979a, 1979b, 1979c, 1981 and Lemert & Gillan 1982). Finally, Derrida's 1982c occurs in a special issue of the journal Social Research devoted to contemporary French philosophy (see there, among others, the articles of Rosset, Michaud, Le Doeuff and Descombes). 26 C H A P T E R T W O F a c t s , Figures and the Principles of A c c o u n t i n g N o w , "everyday language" is not innocent or neutral. It is the language of Western metaphysics, and it carries with it not only a considerable number of presuppositions of all types, but also presuppositions inseparable from metaphysics, which, although little attended to, are knotted into a system (Derrida 1981c:19) It was not very d i f f i c u l t , either, to decide where we should look for a beginning, for I already knew that one begins with the simplest and easiest to know (Descartes 1960:16) In one sense it could be said that an appreciation of the non-neutrality of everyday language stands at the very core of sociology, finding expression in each of its subject areas and generating an immense volume of work concerned with its consequences. Derrida's linkage of everyday language and the history implied by "Western metaphysics" could thus easily be read as a commonplace that sociology has long since installed among its givens. If there is one thing that we all know, for example, it is that there is no presuppositionless knowledge. T h e instruction to be drawn from Derrida's remark, however, is less the reassurance that we know this than a reminder that our knowing takes place within a system which generates such 'knowings' and accords t h e m " a particular and consequential value in the production of our accounts. It is not that we know, but how we know which is of interest here, and more particularly how what we know takes the f o r m of a f a c t . The metaphysics to which D e r r i d a attends in all of his works is the metaphysics of this ' f o r m ' , in which being or any consequentiality is equated with presence. This metaphysics of presence is not l o c a l i z e d to any particular "ism" but drawn upon by even the most acrimoniously opposed of "isms", 27 learned long before it is a question of (professional) philosophy. S i m i l a r l y , R a f f e l traces how an identification of f a c t with presence organizes not only the mundane production of hospital records but of sociological methodologies for the uses of records and its own activity of recording. "I already knew," Descartes tells us, "that one begins with the simplest and easiest to know" (ibid.). The 'simple' is a term Descartes uses repeatedly in the Discourse to invoke presence, most often in conjunction with generality, that i s , both ease and completeness, of apprehension. H e also provides there a figure of its phenomenality in repeated identifications of the true with the 'clear and distinct', a figure which interestingly retains currency as a metaphor of good writing. It deserves emphasis that it is good writing which is somehow clear and distinct: what ordinarily passes for a description of technical writing is at the same time a criterion or an evaluative standard. T h a t writing is good which offers a 'clear' view of what it represents; bad, which 'obscures' what it should rather be describing. C l e a r or 'literal' writing issues in a document. By the same token, writing becomes 'literary' in proportion as it becomes d i f f i c u l t to treat it as a picture of something else, which is precisely what a document is thought to be. So far as the production of sociological accounts is c o n c e r n e d , then, the opposition of the l i t e r a l and the literary functions less as a description of two kinds of writing than as a means of ensuring that description is what sociological writing will amount to: that we will concern ourselves with the f a c t s . T h e preceding chapter has sought to give some sense of the plasticity with which this concern finds expression, how it permeates the least remarked of sense- making operations qua valorization of presence. Here h" is not a matter of 28 summarizing but of letting these instances resonate, so to speak, in an examination of the system of this concern on home territory. It is being suggested that in the p r a c t i c e of documentation form already implies a particular content in that 'contents' are known and required to take a s p e c i f i c f o r m , in aid of realizing the promise or desire iterated (not for the first time) in Descartes' story. Speaking of f a c t , then, we will necessarily be speaking of writing and of the particular relation to the true which 'good' writing is supposed to institute. T h e r e is every reason to proceed- slowly in this, and so we shall. I. T h e F a c t s (in T w o Figures) It may prove useful to begin with a version of R a f f e l ' s question as to whether in its accounting procedures sociology does not participate in the construction of its own maladies. Here the question is whether it is not so w e l l - subscribed a feature of recent sociological p r a c t i c e to situate our accounts of social inquiry in terms of the concerns they speak to, as it is to acquiesce in one such concern in particular. This is the i d e a , which has both metaleptic and proleptic f o r c e or suasion, that our accounts should present us with a history of successively better or more comprehensive stories of what inquiry i s , its nature or its fundamental lineaments. Such a history could potentially come to an end, since the best story of inquiry would also be the final story, the story which could divest itself of what we take to be the more disquieting susceptibilities of stories (such as their liability to hearsay, e r r o r , idiosyncrasy, ambiguity or indeterminacy of meaning) and become instead a statement — of the truth of the matter. It is not at all d i f f i c u l t to see what this concern might in the first instance express: among other things a desire for positive acknowledgement or vindication of 29 the intellectual labour expended in the production of our accounts over an entire virtual history of such endeavours. Its form is such as to provide us with, or provide us with a warrant for c o n s t r u c t i n g , a 'past' which because it locates us and our work as the cumulation and best resolution so far of the work begun by our predecessors, simultaneously justifies a construal of the 'future', of the continuation of inquiry, as going 'further' rather than, say, 'going on'. S i m i l a r l y , it is not at all d i f f i c u l t to identify this concern as a reiteration or retelling of a very old story underwriting nearly all of our intellectual history. Appearing here (as in a good many other realms of social practice) as a teleology of progress/redemption, the story is perhaps best c h a r a c t e r i z e d as a story about foundations. T h a t i s , not a story about the way things are (in this c a s e , perhaps, about what history looks like), but a story whose object has been to render intelligible (inform and give persuasive f o r c e to) the intellectual end of securing the certitude and immanent sense of our inquiry, to give it a centre or point of referral which is f i x e d . Such a centre or ground would be in a particular way external to the mutability of our formulations, and thereby (as we seem to want to hope) the guarantor of some transhistorical value nonetheless lodged in or conveyed through this same mutability. What might be d i f f i c u l t to entertain, however, given the f a m i l i a r i t y of this version of the story and the f a c t that its shortcomings and insufficiencies are routinely rehearsed as a matter of professional training in sociology, is the possibility that we may still subscribe to it in a non-trivial way. E v e r y t h i n g about recent characterizations of the state of social theory which stress e.g. the plurality of 'paradigms', 'perspectives' or 'theoretical frameworks' on o f f e r , seems to push for a reception of the question of this possibility, its placement within and by means of our 30 current readings of 'the problem of inquiry' in the social sciences, as a species of a r c h a i s m . We are no longer so naive as to really believe, the story may run nowadays, in 'progress' as a function of the cumulative subsumption without residue of earlier by later theories-and-Weltanschauungen. The notion that progress is vouchsafed by the simple expedient of the linear succession of such structures belongs to simpler times if not to simpler minds, and 'times' are no longer so simple. T h e sheer f a c t of multiple frameworks is ample argument, if any is needed, against a retreat or regression to what we all recognize as a pseudo-explanatory notion of progress. This seems a fair rendition of the kind of story that a sizable community of practitioners might marshall in reply to the question posed above. Though it would seldom be considered in terms of the way temporality is used and enters into the persuasive f o r c e of the reply it is worth noting that the ' f a c t i c i t y ' of multiple frameworks receives almost all of its punch from their contemporaneity (or presumed contemporaneity). It is not the f a c t that there are many accounts that works to dismiss the question before it can be further f o r m u l a t e d , but the f a c t that there are many now. In a rhetorical structure of some c o m p l e x i t y , this 'now' (this 'fact') serves to posit and oppose an intellectual present to a past whose dimensions are given by what this present is not. It is not (we take it) a present in which univocality of thought is readily a c c e s s i b l e , not a present c h a r a c t e r i z e d by agreement as to fundamentals, and consequently not a present in which a question arising out of such conditions (virtual, s o - c o n c e i v e d , or both) has significance. H e r e , then, is a familiar sounding deployment of a matter of f a c t . L i k e Alexander's and Descartes' f a c t s , it goes about its work by opposing a presence (diversity) to an absence (unity), or a 'now' to a 'then', in this case with intent to set us straight regarding what it views as a rather simplistic question. 31 It will take some development to see why the particular relation this reply establishes between itself and the initial question should m a t t e r . Perhaps the first requirement is to resist what is apt to be a very strong temptation to treat the relation between the reply and the question in the same way that the reply treats the question (or the way that the second story treats the first), namely, as presenting, and only presenting, a problem of documentation. Despite the possibility, already noted, that the first story is more and other than (or does more and other than tell) a story about the way things a r e , the second gains its plausibility, and justifies its documentary operations, by reading it in just this way, i.e. as a factual c l a i m , a statement about the way things a r e . T h e task that follows from the presence of such claims (anywhere, at any t i m e , in terms it should be noted of either story) is that of deciding their truth v a l u e . T r u t h value is to be adjudicated and resolved on the basis of 'evidence', that i s , adduced in the end in one or more factual claims taken to c o r r e c t or confirm the original(s). T h i s adjudication is the only task the second story sees itself confronted with (or perhaps, the only task it is willing or able to acknowledge) and this is the task it p e r f o r m s , it was suggested, through the vehicle of a rhetorical figure which establishes two domains of f a c t i c i t y ('evidence' in the form of a history) by opposing and hierarchizing a complex present and a simple past. It would seem an i l l - f a t e d job, then, that would attempt to put the legislative operations of this story in question by adopting them s i m p l i c i t e r . If operations associated with what is here being called documentation and this or similar figural uses of history are intimately c o n n e c t e d , one could hardly do worse than to proceed to formulate the relative truth value of both stories, perhaps with respect to a third possibility defined by hypothetical access to an ideally complete 32 body of evidence. T h e first story (which, it will be remembered, is already a repetition or citation as given here) can be read as a presentation of the project of such documentation, thus read as being as dependent on figural uses of history for its persuasion to a desire for univocality as the second. T h e second story, in turn, can be read as an enactment of the project, thus as another c i t a t i o n , recurring to the first in more ways than it e f f e c t s to differ from i t . In this connexion it may be noted that the multiplicity of frameworks adduced to differentiate it from the past (the first story) does not function so much to open a question about the desire for univocality as it does to restate the problem of securing it 'under changed conditions'. If, then, the seemingly natural course of further documentation were adopted, as it has been in recent social theory with a few notable exceptions, we might justifiably expect ourselves to be caught up in yet another reiteration of this structure of concerns, contributing both to its workings and its history, without gaining any especial analytic purchase on either of these. Since some insight of the latter kind is the object of the following, we must proceed a little d i f f e r e n t l y . This is not an easily articulated d i f f e r e n c e , since whatever else occasions disagreement among sociologists, there is near unanimity (to be found in their productions if not their pronouncements about these, though often here as well) that sociological writing is writing that documents: documents problems, solutions, the appearance and disappearance of c h a r a c t e r i s t i c positions and styles, e m p i r i c a l and theoretical findings or breakthroughs, methodological controversies and the l i k e . We can put the matter this way: the disciplinary history sociology thus documents for itself may prove a peculiar guide to the history it makes, exercising its documentary concerns. T h a t the second story works in such a way as to e f f a c e its 33 c o m m i t m e n t to a very old concern in the very a c t of exercising it is not available as a self-description within the terms of its own p r a c t i c e , i.e. is not a constituent in its own particular mode of r e f l e x i v i t y . A c c o r d i n g l y , it is to this system of self- description that we turn. II. T h e Figuring In terms of the latter understanding, what it is to document something is presumably to give a report, the giving of which does not (or does not essentially) a f f e c t the thing reported on, but merely represents or describes i t . A report, then, presents something (a theory, a finding, a problem, a development) but is not taken to be c o m p l i c i t in the presentation of what it brings into view. T h a t i s , reporting ' i t s e l f is not taken to have a history. T h e business of bringing things into view is not taken to speak to any end other than the one it ascribes to itself: representational a c c u r a c y or a best approximation (pro tempore) of the phenomena under review. Consequently, history subsists in the terms of this understanding as that history (purveyed in both stories) given by the succession and/or contemporaneity of the things brought into view. Put otherwise, the documentary understanding licences and requires a history of results, and not of the particular formulative p r a c t i c e (its own) which gives and has given us 'results' to arrange in such histories ('facts' to adjudicate, whether these bear, e . g . on the relative merits of two theories or the actual course of some historical development). This is to say that the documentary understanding licences and requires its own absence qua formulative p r a c t i c e from any instance of that p r a c t i c e . The formulation of evidence must appear on its view as something other than f o r m u l a t i o n , something without a history, for it holds that it cannot establish a claim to have adjudicated the facts if it is c o m p l i c i t in their 34 f o r m u l a t i o n . The f a c t s must be there before they are 'written down'. We can now begin to see that the rhetoricity of the report (the form in which adjudication is presented, or the form in which documentation presents itself to itself, v i z . as the 'mere' presentation of something else) is not peripheral to the question of what it may mean that inquiry is organized by and oriented to this c o n c e r n : in Rorty's evocative c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n , to speak "Nature's Own Language," or to reveal Nature by means of "Nature's Own Vocabulary" (Rorty 1982:194-195). The report, insofar as it aspires to document, just is and continually revives this project of getting the best story, the one the phenomena provide, the one the things present. It does so by treating what it speaks about as something securely other than itself. T h e report typically begins (and ends) this way, by inviting the reader to concur in the f a c t i c i t y of what it presents, or to concur in the f a c t i c i t y of what it presents itself as being about. Such beginnings (and endings) are already formulative achievements modelled on documentation's end. T h e y already f u l f i l the requirement that what is (which is always what a report is about) should coincide with what is present, with what is other and with what, being both present and other, presents itself, in such a way that the means of presentation — writing, the report itself — is a mere conduit or transparency. F r o m this vantage, the s e l f - e f f a c i n g character of documentary writing is not available within the terms of its p r a c t i c e because the desire for the invisibility or transparency of any writing which purports to inquire is available, and governs the practitioner's understanding of what he is doing. T h e royal road to truth is one which, analytically speaking, the documentary practitioner travels in reverse, in the hope that as he retreats the phenomenon will advance to f i l l the space he has vacated with its presence. His view (the writing responsive to this project) is always directed 35 'outward' (oriented to the constitution of f a c t , its presentation, and the truth that is held to obtain in the presence of things). A c c o r d i n g l y , we can begin to see why it is important not to take up the second story's invitation to be read as a report. This is after all what it asks of a reader, but to concur is to permit the achieved character of what it does to be covered over or suppressed by the typical mode in which it presents its achievement. It is to acquiesce in and repeat what documentation does from the other side, so to speak, by making oneself the reader required by its version of writing: the one who will read as if the writing ' i t s e l f is unachieved, 'Nature's Own' because it is merely allowing Nature to bring itself into view. T h e alternative is not simply to treat the story as a c h i e v e d , however, because it is perfectly possible (indeed, common recourse both in theory and what is sometimes now c a l l e d metatheory in the social sciences) to treat its achieved character as one more f a c t which is other than our interest (external to any possible concern of ours: this is what the 'mere' concern to document insists upon) and therefore itself the chief determinant of what there is to say about i t . This would amount to a failure to take into account that one of the chief requirements of the documentary orientation is that anything be formulable as a thing, f a c t u a l i z e d or c o n c r e t i z e d , in this manner. Documentation can no more exempt itself from this requirement than it can anything else (any other possible object) if it is continuously to realize its end (adjudicating so as to give the right answers). Consequently, our alternative is to treat the story, in any of its many versions and instances, as achieved in light of or with constant reference to this e n d , and ask about the possibilities it forecloses in so orienting itself (its achievement). T o treat documentation as achieved in light of this end is to undertake to restore it 36 to a history it denies or establishes itself against. We can give voice to the alternative, then, by treating documentation as historiography: a particular historiography, not of things, but of the desire that things and the real should be coextensive and self-disclosing. T h i s , it may not seem so odd to suggest, has a very lengthy history indeed. Within this history, we have seen that 'history' has a particular p l a c e , value or historiographic c a p a c i t y , as a figure by means of which f a c t is accomplished. If only those things are f a c t which are 'historied' or storied in the manner described above, it follows that what is not so storied is not a f a c t , not a thing, not an object or event, i.e. 'literally' nothing in terms of the figurality documentation requires of its f a c t s . It could then be said that history enters documentation so as to come to its (documentation's) end: to distinguish f a c t from n o n - f a c t , or the real f r o m what (not being present) is not even an eventuality, so that documentation can then present the d i f f e r e n c e , which means: need make no difference itself. Since 'it' is absent from the making of distinctions that history does, it is not even an eventuality that it could a f f e c t the way distinctions — facts ~ are made. We can thus restate the intimacy of the relationship between history and documentation. History enters the terms of the documentary project in such as way as to preserve the ahistoricity of reporting ' i t s e l f (its absence from what it talks about), and it does this precisely by entering as the possibility of asserting, among other things, that everything about reporting (for example, its possible objects, procedures and practitioners) is irreducibly h i s t o r i c a l , subject to historical influence or, as may be said, 'historical through and through'. History or historicity is just a f a c t about inquiry, that i s , supplies it with the meanings (facts) it presents — and when it presents itself, supplies it with its own meaning (facticity) to present — and this is where a good many treatments of the matter come to a c l o s e . T h e y come to a close here, one suspects, because to present 37 a f a c t is to give the right answer (is to inquire and to have concluded one's inquiry) in the only sense documentation can give to the undertaking. T h i s , on the c o n t r a r y , is where we begin. Endings of this sort, if more e l l i p t i c a l expression can now be given to the desire of which documentation is the historiography, speak to the imperative that whatever is said should 'have foundation'. If documentation is treated as a particular historiography, that i s , as a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c , interested mode of reading, what arises is not e . g . the need to rush immediately into the lists to resolve the question of whether history is in f a c t the ground of inquiry. It becomes a question what 'the lists' are; what it is to be 'about' something (it might be more or other than this reading characteristically provides for); what it is to report, describe, present, document, assert, deny or inquire into something; what it is to ground something — whether grounds or foundations (no less f a c t s , things, objects, events, histories or history) must or even can answer to the imperative which shapes their discursive configuration in documentary reading — and so on. T h e image of rebuilding the boat one is floating in is in some respects serviceable, provided it is recognized that there is no drydock available for the purpose, and that the building is in aid of retrieving our need for building rather than the c l a i m , ultimately, to have produced a new and better boat. We turn, then, to our 'case'. A s it accounts for quite a bit of recent disciplinary historiography, the second story will do n i c e l y . III. T h e Principle in P r a c t i c e Versions of this story, which concur in adducing the polyvocalic present for the social sciences noted e a r l i e r , invariably locate themselves in relation to the work of Thomas K u h n (particularly if not only T h e Structure of S c i e n t i f i c Revolutions). Whether they then differ over the significance of having a discipline c h a r a c t e r i z e d by 38 multiplicity of orientation (theory and method), all such accounts treat Kuhn as something on the order of an honorary progenitor, i.e. as having brought to our attention, or as having given us the means to bring into view, this f a c t about our f i e l d . We are already, then, well within the purview of a documentary reading with these accounts. O f interest to us, though not, it seems, to the authors, many of whom do indeed profess allegiance to self-described schools of sociology, is that out of their multiplicitous orientations they agree on something. T h e y positively insist that there are many (or too many) paradigms in sociology. T h e r e 'are' many, but only i f , in accordance with the requirements of a documentary reading, one treats self- description as f a c t (as the presence with reference to which a difference may be constituted, by means of another such presence). This is retrievable as a legislative a c t rather than the ostensive gesture it hopes to be, however. One need not accept the circumscription of p r a c t i c e to self-description accomplished by treating self- description as present. We have already seen the form of this accomplishment: if self-description is present (fact), it can only be circumscribed by the absent (by non- f a c t , by 'nothing'). If many self-descriptions are present, there is 'nothing' more to say (that is the f a c t , and the problem then becomes one of responding to it) ~ though we have already seen how elaborate are the operations which bring us to this conclusion, and how the conclusion is repeated or reaffirmed whenever the 'facts themselves' are looked upon. Indeed, if we were not so thoroughly accustomed to privileging the content of statements (again their f a c t i c i t y : the achievement of transparency such that content is the presence that a statement is 'about'), we would see this a c t and the one that establishes the notional history discussed earlier (the couple: 'uncomplicated p a s t / c o m p l i c a t e d present') as the same a c t . In other words, we would neither require sameness to be the unity or self-identity of what presents 3 9 itself, nor difference to be what obtains between two or more presences. 1 Here, since we have some contingent grasp of the discursive structure of documentary accomplishments, we can reformulate what is at issue in the agreement these accounts display but fail to notice: not the fact which is presented again and again for review (assent), but the desire it speaks to, viz. that the facts should be secure (the limit of what we have to deal with), that we should get things right. Insofar as the accounts agree that this should be the accomplishment (i.e. perform or enact this agreement) their very agreement subverts the claim to 'differences'. Thus the latter result as a picture of the state of the social sciences cannot have been got 'from Kuhn's text' without Kuhn's text having been treated as itself an instance of documentation, as a presentation of facts and therefore itself readable as one more fact calling for documentation. It is in terms of this recognition that one can fashion a structural key to these readings which is other than the structure they adduce for themselves ('Nature's Own', i.e. analytically none, for what they claim for themselves is the structure — facticity — of the fact which 'produces' them). In much the pattern noted above, we may expect 'differences' to arise (as they with some notoriety have) over the proper definition of a paradigm (its proper or real constituents/content), but not over the presence (facticity) of paradigms as objects for documentation (for differences or difference-making of this kind): over the nature of normal and extraordinary science, crises and revolution, but not over the presence of these (or Kuhn's text generally) as objects for documentation. Debate may rage over the facts of facticity (the right definition, the best presentation of what there really is), but not over facticity 'itself (not over the commitment to a world conceived as independent of our conceptions as itself the only possible ground of knowledge: not therefore, over the commitment to a world which is available for 40 documentation in documentation's terms). T h e c o m m i t m e n t is already exemplified by these readings in their particular formulation of the givenness of polyvocality: as that which stands to their achievement as cause to e f f e c t , or as that which independently inaugurates (therefore cannot already embody) their achievement, where achievement is taken in the now familiar sense of 'whatever follows' — both 'comes after' and 'is determined by' or 'a consequence o f . The solutions to our differences proposed in these readings then also remain, from our perspective by means of rather than despite their differences (their facts), true to their historiographic tasks. Whether the c a l l is for resignation to the supposed babel of sociological paradigms, for their integration or synthesis, or for optimism in the form of the assertion that paradigmatic diversity has potential fruitfulness, their self- ascribed sense lies in their being able successfully to sustain some articulation of f a c t i c i t y ' i t s e l f as a l i m i t / g r o u n d . Since articulations under the auspices of these solutions can (and do) take any number of f o r m s , the concern here is with the system which permits them to do so rather than with a sampling of 'what they c o n t a i n ' . 2 1. Thus resignation, for instance, has reference to a conception of univocality or f a c t as presence. This conception (requirement) is made weighty by, and gives weight to, the apparent absence of a single self-description in the discipline. T h e need to resign would have no sense (would not arise) without this requirement because its a c c e p t a n c e is what generates the 'many' (the differences) as a problem. T h a t the many are 'seen' (that i s , seen to m a t t e r , endowed with factual status) means that they are seen as frustrating its achievement. What is interesting about this response is that it declines recourse to the documentary version of the old saw that 'there are different ways of saying the same thing'. S p e c i f i c a l l y , it refrains from an attempt to resolve the differences (the problem) by making another difference (by adducing another f a c t , in this case either by inflecting or projecting the given f a c t such that a 41 'new' c l a i m to have stated the f a c t of the m a t t e r , to have uncovered the 'real' unity of the social sciences, can be presented). This is neither a departure nor a lapse, though the resigned and the community which reads their work may find it an acutely uncomfortable posture. R a t h e r , resignation's documentary coherence resides precisely in its withdrawing before the f a c t which is seen to determine its starting point. T h a t it ends where it begins is not only l e g i t i m a t e , provided that the f a c t provides for i t , but speaks to a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c relation of beginnings and endings which has already been noted. 2. Where resignation's coherence consists in this withdrawal before its 'inaugural' f a c t , that of integration consists in differentiating it (presenting the f a c t s of the f a c t ) . It therefore speaks to the same requirement, articulated in the necessity that interrelations of f a c t take the form of aggregation. T h e formulation of f a c t as presence licences only the proliferation of discrete essents (more f a c t s ) , whether 'internal' or 'external' to the f a c t with which one begins. T h a t i s , a part of a f a c t is analytically identical to that of which it is a part in that its status as essent resides solely in its presence (and presence is what is indivisible, offering only its complete temporal and spatial self-containment to view). Integration, and with it a well-established vocabulary — of 'parts' and 'wholes', 'components', 'elements', 'combinations', 'structures', 'composites' and so on — expresses and perpetuates this s p e c i f i c discursive fecundity of f a c t (its supra- and intra-numerability as f a c t ) , but it does not 'follow' from it as something necessitated by a world in which parts and wholes disclose themselves. T h e need for integration only has sense in relation to the prior c o m m i t m e n t to such a world, i.e. to the prior commitment to a discursive distinction of internality and externality such that the latter may be secured as the proper provenance of truth. It would not arise (as a problem of aggregation, of making distinctions among undifferentiated differences) if presence were not the 42 l i m i t of f a c t and f a c t thereby the domain of this externality (the domain of what is other than and i m m i s c i b l e with any effort expended by us in its coming into view). Integration, insofar as it accepts its problem, must then trade on relations of isomorphy and replacement, for its acceptance of the problem means that there are no other relations in which the facts may stand to each other without ceasing to be f a c t s . T h e r e will be nothing to say of a f a c t whose f a c t s have been reallocated except that it is no longer present (is therefore nothing, or: nothing for the present, therefore past, passed o n , passed beyond or replaced), while the 'new' one is present (is therefore something, or: something for the present, therefore present, h e r e - a n d - now, c u r r e n t , proximate, i m m e d i a t e , evident, evidence, and so on). 'That's history', as the saying goes: one must attend to 'what is going on today'. Integration is then as much a citation of history as resignation (from point of view of practitioners it is the preferred citation or citation form) for what it accomplishes in its reallocation of f a c t is the very substance of 'subsumption without residue'. T h a t i s , like resignation, it permits no hint or remnant of 'non-fact' to enter its presentation (which here consists of the replacement of one collocation of 'parts' with another which claims to be 'whole'). 3. O p t i m i s m , f i n a l l y , displays its c o m m i t m e n t neither by 'ceasing' to document, nor by 'proceeding' to document, but by calling attention to the inevitability of documentation. T h a t i s , it displays its allegiance to a figure of unity as presence by calling attention to the inevitability of a state of affairs coming about which will make itself available as the optimal solution of our current differences, and so 'will' be there to document in the same way that facts 'are' and 'have been' available for documentation. By holding in e f f e c t that something will bubble up out of the paradigmatic stew, optimism offers an undiluted affirmation of the promissory history which drives and is continually reinvigorated by any instance of 43 documentation: it makes of any practitioner the potential conduit, not for more of the same (for if it were the case that differences were all he could foresee, the optimist would hardly consider that he had cause for optimism), but for a final unity which will come from the things themselves. Optimism then places complete faith in the rather o c c u l t ambulatory capacities required of facts and says (reaffirming one of many versions of the documentary conception of ground or limit) 'it's only a matter of time'. Since history (the f a c t of the workings of the things themselves) has provided for the current facts of the m a t t e r , it will also provide for their replacement (supercession), and we need only wait in readiness to document the moment of a r r i v a l . T h i s response seems capable of occasioning as much discomfort as resignation, sometimes expressed as stemming from its lack of analytic vigour. The lack is as responsive to documentary requirements as vigour (presumably integration) i s , however, and it is not inconceivable that its responsiveness rather than its purported deficiency accounts for some measure of the uneasiness expressed in like c r i t i c i s m s . Further demonstration may not add to our c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n of these responses as articulations of a discursive system organized by the c o m m i t m e n t to a determination of f a c t as presence. IV. The P r a c t i c e 'in Principle' Thus f a r , the system of the documentary reading of Kuhn has only been considered from point of view of its enabling the production of a ' f a c t out of Kuhn's text' which is simultaneously the production of Kuhn's text as a 'fact' (as a presence or unity of meaning which comprises an aggregate of facts available for a potentially inexhaustible array of documentary operations and responses). What needs to be considered, if only b r i e f l y , is the way in which the success of this reading also constitutes its limitation.3 44 By requiring that Kuhn's text be appropriable as f a c t , each of the three responses discussed above establishes a relation with Kuhn's text which makes of the latter not a text (not a discursive accomplishment) but a pretext — that i s , an occasion for the exercise of the project to which, as moments of documentary reading, they are already c o m m i t t e d (and already committing). Documentation will not itself see this as l i m i t i n g : on the contrary, it will consider itself in a position (of disengagement or removal from the discursive) to say everything there is to say about Kuhn's text. A s pre-text it is before or other than the discursive and so, just what is wanted, for it will say what there is to say in the way that the 'facts always speak for themselves'. It is for us to give this positioning a twist it cannot help providing f o r , by retrieving what 'Kuhn's text' so constituted has to say about documentation. It says a great deal in the l i m i t because it is constituted precisely and only as what documentation is prepared to say. Thus documentation will 'take' from Kuhn (attribute to 'Kuhn's text*) only so much as already belongs to its project, which means, it will make of 'Kuhn's text' an exercise in f a c t which shows greater or lesser f e l i c i t y to its own requirements (on its own reading of these). Where 'Kuhn's text' shows signs of escaping propriety — that i s , where documentation in its own engagement with Kuhn finds itself in danger of having to acknowledge the discursive character of its engagement — that is where 'Kuhn's text' will be arraigned on charges of 'implications': plainly intolerable, ambiguous, incoherent or error-ridden implications (in view of the f a c t s , which is to say, in view of what is wanted of the facts). If there is one feature of Kuhn's work which has been subject to more frequent characterizations of this kind than any other (or, in a parallel t a c t i c from point of view of its e f f i c a c y as a means of suppression, more urgently ignored: see R i t z e r 1980) it is his attempts to come to grips with what he calls the 45 incommensurability of paradigms. This is when, to give the figure its due, 'Kuhn's text' strikes back. T h e r e is nothing in principle to prevent documentation from formulating incommensurability as one more f a c t about paradigms, in much the same way as the paradigm is formulated as a f a c t about the success of the natural sciences in generating knowledge (results). O n its principles this is just what it should be doing, but instead it 'modifies' their application. It makes of incommensurability an hypothesis (a possible fact) and thinks (warrants the sense of) something like the following: if incommensurability were a f a c t , we would be unable to compare paradigms because they would have nothing in c o m m o n . Kuhn is then charged with promoting a thesis of 'extreme relativism'. T h e charge at least is c o m m o n : as may have been a n t i c i p a t e d , it is not only compatible with but produced by each of the three responses. F r o m point of view of the systematicity of the charge, then, there is here again no question of paradigms having the f a c t i c i t y required by documentation. T h e question is only whether incommensurability deserves to be a f a c t , i.e. in this inflection of 'about 1 , a component of paradigms. Since it is already formulated as f a c t , i.e. since all of the substitutive relations of presence have already been invoked, the question cannot be answered unless incommensurability is treated as a f a c t , and this is where documentation runs into problems (encounters its own l i m i t qua a thing that disrupts the stability of the known or knowable). A s facts go, that i s , in terms of the discursive system that generates relativism as a sensible response, incommensurability has a strange 'content' for it is about difference (there is no change of sense here; 'about' still has reference to the idea of mirroring a self- subsistent thing in the world: predicating such a thing, thus 'the' world it is to come from). Worse s t i l l , it is about irreducible d i f f e r e n c e . T o predicate incommensurability of paradigms is to invite c a l a m i t y , not because the result will be 4 6 a multiplicity of paradigms. This f a c t is quite supportable under s p e c i f i c conditions, if the number of commentators who a c c e p t it is any indication. It is because, if 'the' f a c t about paradigms is their irreducible d i f f e r e n c e , the result will be a multiplicity of worlds, which we may translate as the loss in principle of the documentary conception (requirement) of ground or foundation. If paradigms 'are' incommensurable (if their difference rather than their presence is the fact) then what their difference will present is the absence of a single authorizing presence which could account for them a l l . T h e y will cease to have in common one ground and will thereby lose the possibility of discovering one v o i c e . T h e promise of univocality will be f o r f e i t e d if difference is permitted to matter. It is this chain of sense-making that the idea of relativism recapitulates, or what its urgency says. But then we must acknowledge that relativism belongs in the most thoroughgoing sense to documentation, not as a thing (for example, one of its components) but as an internal, discursively generated necessity: as one expression of its discursive l i m i t . T h e urgency of the warning that paradigms will cease to be 'comparable' has point, for it is a way of saying that, if what is other than f a c t (the discursive) should become f a c t (should matter, make a difference to what f a c t is), then any f a c t will cease to be f a c t ; presence will cease to be the l i m i t of things or of the r e a l . Documentation sees its project jeopardized by such an eventuality, and relativism is its way of saying that such an eventuality is to be treated as inconceivable (in this, it says what every f a c t says). If the very best that can be imagined is unity, then the v e r y , very worst is multiplicity that cannot be aggregated on the formula 'unity in difference', multiplicity whose difference cannot be 'reduced'. D i f f e r e n c e ^ are supportable - - that i s , many facts are supportable — because qua f a c t s they do not disturb the security of the realm of the f a c t u a l in the least: on the c o n t r a r y , they a f f i r m i t . Insofar as paradigms, for example, are 47 exemplary f a c t s , their difference does not m a t t e r . What it means that they are f a c t is that fundamentally they are the same. It is simply 'known' that they are proper objects (they do disclose their unity and will disclose their greater unity in due course). But to be confronted by this other sort of difference (a sort which persists in mattering or 'resists' assimilation to fact) is to verge on the meaningless, to come to the very l i m i t of meaning and so to be presented with the absolute imperative to retreat (reaffirm unity or reassert presence as all there is). Relativism says 'this far and no further: we must go back on pain of utter chaos'. That Kuhn's uses of incommensurability should occasion this response is not then a merit (or demerit) of Kuhn's text but a consequence and expression of its documentary readings. The charge of relativism brings with i t , so to speak, the entire system of that particular mode of reading, and to say this is not to consign Kuhn's text to oblivion. The latter would also be a documentary conclusion: if Kuhn's text is not f a c t , it is nothing; if not present, absent; if not indivisible or s e l f - s a m e , an offense against Nature; if not independent of us, unthinkable, and so o n . It is to say that there is nothing in the term 'incommensurability' which causes this response — that i s , makes for this response and no other, independently of the readings which invest it with the sense it has acquired for so many in sociology. R a t h e r , that sense enacts the prior provision, among others, that incommensurability can 'be' a t e r m , 'have' a content, and insofar, 'cause' responses which, because they are caused (inaugurated from outside) 'are' v a l i d , real or themselves present (despite possible fluctuations in analytical vigour). What the canonical readings of Kuhn tell us is not that he bungled when he came to the relationships between paradigms (though certainly this is one version of what they say), but that the canon privileges (produces and limits itself by producing) relations of the sort we have been trying to retrieve from their more usual immersion in (construction of) the 'obvious'. 48 O r d i n a r i l y , efforts such as these would be expected to issue in a replacement account of Kuhn's text, in the most l i t e r a l sense of the documentary figure of replacement.^ Instead, we return to the rhetoricity of the report with at least the beginnings of a d i f f e r e n c e . It is an important c l a i m — whose basis is not Nature unless that figure too can be reinvested as an expression of the belonging to language instanced in both documentation and our discussion of it — that it is not immediately obvious what a truly alternative reading of Kuhn would consist i n , if it could 'consist' at a l l . This is because it is not immediately obvious what a truly alternative mode of reading in the social sciences would consist i n . Such a reading would not be presentable as f a c t (and might therefore be thought very unpresentable indeed) because it i m p l i e s , and takes shape as, an undoing of what f a c t has meant (accomplished) as an expression of the particular relation inquiry has traditionally established with the discursive. It therefore proceeds by means of the tradition though not by means of the end which comprises the tradition. If the canonical figurations of f a c t may be read as enactments of the relation to discourse that inquiry has preferentially stipulated for i t s e l f , v i z . the denial of the necessity of this relation, we can ask what it would be to inquire if f a c t enacted the affirmation of what it necessarily affirms by denying in any (every) case. It has not on the other hand similarly proved a necessity to stress throughout the preceding that 'facts are discursive accomplishments after a l l ' . T a k i n g f a c t s qua denials, this may seem more accessible than it may seem to have been elsewhere in our remarks, but this may only express the power the invitation to conclude has for us, since that in rhetorical terms is what repeated stress on 'the fact' would a c c o m p l i s h . 'Kuhn' (similarly 'history') has been used as an occasion in aid 49 not of 'new conclusions' but of making the question above available as one which could be taken seriously, where what is serious in the question will depend on our developing this implied shift in e n d , from denial of language as 'the' only means to truth or the intelligible, to its affirmation as our only means. A historiography of our accomplishments cannot require any other means than our historiography of things has, rather the elaboration of ways of making available a different relation to these. Thus it is not here a question of developing an alternative reading of K u h n , though it is nonetheless possible to indicate how one might begin (i.e. what we might require of ourselves in order to make a good start in relation to this shift in end). We would have to c o m m i t ourselves to treating statements like the following: T h e commitments that govern normal science specify not only what sorts of entities the universe does c o n t a i n , but also, by i m p l i c a t i o n , those it does not. It follows . . . that a discovery like that of oxygen or X - r a y s does not simply add one more item to the population of the scientist's world (1970:7), as something other than the provision of two more items for documentation's world: for the question 'Is it (immediately, obviously, clearly and of itself) true?' Put otherwise, we might begin to find it curious that an infinite capacity to generate truths (this is the promise Descartes makes on behalf of method: if we "follow the order necessary . . . there cannot be any propositions so abstruse that we cannot prove t h e m , nor so recondite that we cannot discover them" 1960:16) comes at the price of s t r i c t adherence to a version of the true which prefigures the proper form of questions and answers. T h e belief in the possibility of documentation, it is being suggested, is not other than that earlier exercise in belief which attempted to make the true a representation free from all opinion or custom — though to be sure it is not identical with i t , i.e. it does not look the same. 50 Perhaps it will have become less and less self-evident that looking is what sociology does in order to produce its documents. In this sense, the foregoing may suggest how Derrida's emphasis on the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c leap of reading is well-placed (p. 16 supra). Our considerations are certainly intended to represent something, but could they constitute a document, or the thing represented, a thing? Does one paint a principle (produce its 'genuine reproduction')? and if it were somehow less problematic to address a principle on this model of representation than it is a f a c t , would such a picture secure the commonly sought repose of a conclusion? 51 N O T E S 1 We might obtain some leverage for asking what other uses history could be put t o , or for situating a 'paradox' stemming from its current employment: our need to rely on the 'words' in statements to tell us whether what they say is the 'same' or 'different' — by 'looking', i.e. by themselves presenting the assertion or appearance that what they say is the same or different. This is less a paradox than a perfectly f a i t h f u l application of documentary principles, in light of which we might rather want to question the principles than rule on the propriety of the words. 2 Appropriations of Kuhn in sociology include Barnes (1972, 1982); Bottomore (1975); D e n i s o f f , O r e l & L e v i n e (1974); Doppelt (1978); E c k b e r g & H i l l (1979); E f f r a t (1972); Eisenstadt & C u r e l a r u (1976); K u k l i c k (1973); Langsdorf & Reeder (1985); L e h m a n <3c Young (1974); Potter (1984); R i t z e r (1975, 1980); Westhues (1976). T o the extent that the boundary separating it from philosophy of science is one that sociology has not been averse to crossing, pedagogicaliy and in terms of publication, the assessments in Lakatos & Musgrave (1970) and G u t t i n g (1980) are pertinent. A not inappropriately extended use of 'publication' would include, perhaps most importantly, seminars and lectures given in methods courses and elsewhere, and the notes, sections and prefatory remarks found in theoretical and methodological texts of a variety of stripes, in which the f a c t under discussion is perhaps most e f f e c t i v e l y propagated, and the courses of action it is thought to necessitate argued or propounded. Paterson (1981) departs this company quite interestingly, for present purposes. This could be shown for each 'response to Kuhn' except that it can as readily be done 'jointly'. Here it might prove useful to consider resignation. It may be that neither the resigned nor a large part of the community which reads their work can find anything of positive value in this response, but this is only to say that it lacks value by the standards of documentation: where 'forward action' is wanted, ceaseless documentation of the differences, the resigned do nothing. This would be understood as a basis for reprisals (or would be understood to constitute one). But of course the resigned do something. T h e y r e f r a i n , and this restraint, hesitation or pause is precisely what, from our vantage, calls for formulation as a positive achievement: as speaking, not to the f a c t s , but to the promissory end of f a c t - f i n d i n g operations. Resignation can be read as having given itself pause, i.e. as having produced its own uncertainty about the viability of the documentary project in the very course of prosecuting i t . It is surely this relation which accounts for the harshness of reprisals when they o c c u r . It is not that the resigned do 'nothing', but that they come to hesitate by doing what they are supposed to d o . It could then be said that what gives them pause analytically is the f a c t that they produce for themselves the f a c t of their production: not a thing, but the necessity of their having a hand in the determination of the facts of the m a t t e r , which is then expressed in the worry that perhaps f a c t - f i n d i n g will not lead 'anywhere', i.e. to the real story, which ought not to be adulterated by such engagement. So also, mutatis mutandis, for the other responses. 52 * Components of such an account might include the assertions that the real unity of the social sciences has been under our noses all along, in the f a c t of its use of a discursive system based on a particular definition of f a c t , and that Kuhn or Kuhn's text in f a c t c r i t i c i z e s this very orientation. In i t , it might be said, the problems of an old view of s c i e n t i f i c inquiry in the philosophy of science are confronted and its c h a r a c t e r i s t i c claims r e f u t e d , so that Kuhn's text itself (what Kuhn really means) offers a replacement for the responses discussed, which misrepresent (or simply miss) the facts in their pretensions to objectivity, comprehensiveness, or whatever else may be adduced as the cause — the f a c t — of their f a i l u r e . In other words, we would see discursiveness 'raised' to the status of a f a c t about inquiry in the same way that history can be (p. 36 supra). We would be treated (again) to a conclusion, while by contrast, one expression of the questions our example could be used to raise would be some attention to the systematic foreclosure at work in 'conclusions', taken as the proper end of any report and the proper expository setting or orientation of any example. 53 C H A P T E R T H R E E Readings that have yet to be Done It is less a question of confiding new writings to the envelope of a book than of finally reading what wrote itself between the lines in the volumes . . . . Because we are beginning to w r i t e , to write d i f f e r e n t l y , we must reread differently (Derrida 1976:86- 87) A n d , whatever else they may b e , texts are events in the history of language . . . . one must learn to pose anew the question of 'what really happens' in them and in the reader who actually reads them ( L a C a p r a 1982:81) I. A n O l d Story It may prove instructive, on the way to a stock-taking and a necessary pause, not to leap over the text of the following conclusion: " F o r D e r r i d a all cats are grey in the night of 'writing'." O f f e r e d by no less authoritative a figure for the social sciences than Habermas (1985:85), it is the c l a i m of this utterance to report a conclusion whose implications speak for themselves. C e r t a i n that he has received Derrida's meaning, sure of the f a c t s of the m a t t e r , he informs us immediately following this deployment of the literary in aid of the l i t e r a l : "I would not wish to draw this conclusion" (ibid.). Perhaps sufficient context has been generated to suggest some of the irony of this erstwhile passage from f a c t (essence) to value (accident), or from a publicly available (self-communicating) object to a personal response (the purely supplementary remarks of a reasonable subject). T h e passage is worth quoting at length: We are now well aware, since Mary Hesse at the l a t e s t , that even the language of the sciences is shot through with metaphors; this is plainly true of the language of philosophy, which can never of course be entirely absorbed into its role as a 5k stand-in for s c i e n t i f i c theories with strong universal c l a i m s . But one cannot, like D e r r i d a , conclude from the unavoidably rhetorical c h a r a c t e r of every kind of language, including philosophical language, that it is all one and the same — that the categories of everyday l i f e and l i t e r a t u r e , science and f i c t i o n , poetry and philosophy, collapse into each other. F o r D e r r i d a all cats are grey in the night of 'writing'. I would not wish to draw this conclusion. The use of language in the practices of everyday life stands under different restrictions from the language used in theory or art, which is specialized for the solving of problems, or for an innovative disclosure of the world (ibid.) R h e t o r i c i t y , it seems, is just a f a c t about inquiry. Somehow, Derrida's relation to this f a c t is a damning f a c t about D e r r i d a and what he does. Will it do to construe this text in turn as a f a c t about H a b e r m a s , damning or otherwise? The short answer is no. A more c o m p l i c a t e d answer, and in terms of the position taken here as regards deconstruction's i m p l i c a t i o n s , a more satisfactory one, is yes and no. Y e s , if one is willing to displace the requirements of f a c t so as to admit what they already admit by denying. It then becomes a highly consequential ' f a c t about Habermas' that his assessment belongs in a profound way to the metaphor of drawing conclusions -r- that i s , to a history of citation which gives his particular restatement meaning and rhetorical f o r c e . N o , on the other hand, if this f a c t in turn is thought to settle matters. It would then already have become an exemplary f a c t for documentation and an espousal which it has been precisely the task of the thesis to p r o b l e m a t i z e . If we were to reread Habermas' text in light of its belonging to this history, a history as heterogeneous and non-linear as the tangle of c u s t o m , convention and language whose history it i s , we might come to appreciate that its message is not, as might appear on first reading, the f a c t that D e r r i d a has failed to tell us something we did not already know about the language of inquiry. Rather 'Derrida' i s being faulted for failing to tell us something (or some thing) that we desire to know, i.e. something 55 known or knowable in the manner to which we have become a c c u s t o m e d . It is not a f a c t at a l l , then, but a threat which is being addressed in this text. Its concluding utterance functions much less as a neutral description than as a restatement of the imperative the text performs and espouses v i a the rhetorical device of a catastrophe. "The use of language in the practices of everyday l i f e stands under different restrictions from the language used in theory or in art . . . " (1985:85, emphasis added). T h a t i s , it must so stand: "one cannot" explore the possibility that this opposition of theoretical and everyday language is not given but the tenuous issue of a problematic attempt to impose a standard; one "would not wish" to venture too near the foreign shores of such a possibility, lest the home urged by this standard should itself come to seem strange. But surely it is strange: a strange home that renounces the home to which it irremediably belongs; a strange necessity which requires this belonging to be renounced before anything meaningful can be said about it; a strange project which will accordingly accuse its adherents — 'when it shows' — of this same belonging; and a strange principle which betrays itself from the start by requiring for its renunciation the very belonging that it renounces. In this context, Habermas' insistence on the f a c t of rhetoricity ("we are now well aware . . .", "this is plainly true . . .") becomes explicable as a means of keeping a safe distance from a threat posed, not by 'Derrida' but by the very principle of a documentary c o m m i t m e n t . If inquiry can be made "unavoidably rhetorical" in the same way that it can be made unavoidably h i s t o r i c a l , v i z . in such a way that its rhetorical and historical elements will detach and present themselves from among 'the rest', then the danger will be averted that the language one uses to describe them might not be their own — the one language exempt from "the unavoidably rhetorical 56 character of every kind of language" because it does not belong to language at all. It is presumably his commitment to this reserve of 'theoretical language' which leaves Habernias blind to the rhetoricity of his own text and more particularly to its complicity in the catastrophe it externalizes and mobilizes itself against. Elsewhere, and possibly unwittingly, we are given a very cogent statement of the stakes of this exercise: ". . . interests attached to the form of presentation should not be allowed to get the upper hand; otherwise one could become cynical about questions of truth" (1985:88, emphasis added). But is it not precisely an entailment of documentation's own interest in attaining its strange home that the "form of presentation" will always be threatening "to get the upper hand"? Could one be dismayed by the necessity of writing if one did not already wish to suppress it, or be appalled at the need to 'use' language if one did not already seek to reduce it to an instrument that might otherwise (ideally) be dispensed with? We are coming at last to the crux of the matter, which is: that the writ served on writing is always served in writing; charges brought against language are brought from within language, must always bring language to bear. This is not a condition, Derrida and Raffel suggest in different ways, concerning which it makes sense to act as if we had a choice of belonging or not belonging. For documentation, however, the 'possibility' of making just such a choice is crucial. The true does not belong to language and so one must insist on an impossible possibility in order to attain it. It is worth noting in this connexion that Habermas figures the threatened collapse of "every kind of language, including philosophical language" in pairs of terms, each couple opposing the literal and the literary: "the categories of everyday life and literature, science and fiction, poetry and philosophy, [will] collapse into each other" (1985:85). Two categories are to be 57 secured, in other words: belonging (to which one does not want to belong) and not belonging (to which one aspires). Speaking as if he had already attained the l i t e r a l , Habermas enjoins us to do the same. Put another way, denying the l i t e r a r y , Habermas seeks to enforce a boundary that he will necessarily violate in the a t t e m p t , and in every a t t e m p t . It is not that one "could become c y n i c a l about questions of truth" in this exercise (1985:88, emphasis added), but that 'cynicism' is so to speak built i n . Now this is not everything that writes itself between the lines of Habermas' text but it will serve to situate the question of whether he is 'right' or 'wrong', for it is only in terms of the story endorsed there that such an exercise has meaning. It is R a f f el's and Derrida's merit to rigourously address the system of this meaning and its r a m i f i c a t i o n s . T h e ' f a c t about Habermas' to which they refer us is thus neither a f a c t nor about Habermas: no f a c t , because our belonging to language nowhere presents itself in its entirety, and no picture of Habermas for we all write out of this c o n d i t i o n . T h e suggestion is that like H a b e r m a s , we never more fully concur in a particular and problematic relation to language than when we are sure of having transcended the issue altogether, when we are sure that we are 'just writing' or 'just reading'. If it seems a d i f f i c u l t prospect to begin to examine how these ideas express and perpetuate the system to which they belong, and/or how the latter articulates a particular position, desire or principle as regards its condition, we might take heart from the likelihood that it will be no more d i f f i c u l t than securing the principle has been, and perhaps a good deal more salutary in its e f f e c t s . F o r suppose that documentation-should finally realize its principle, and good writing finally achieve the absolute transparency that would entitle it to treat itself as the (true and proper) utterance of the things themselves. Would it not in the 58 same moment lose all possibility of savouring its success? T h e r e would be nothing more to say, not because in fulfilment of its story documentation had finally clinched the last word, but because, having taken up habitation in the timeless, the placeless, the wordless, it would have deprived itself completely of the means of producing stories with this or any other i m p o r t . T h e end of the documentary story is not a triumphal return to pure communion with a world of pre-discursive meaning (presence), but rather a sad a f f a i r whose participants, if it would still make sense thus to evoke the human, would have no way of knowing even this. T h e y would have no way of knowing, or knowing would have no analogy for knowers in a social and h i s t o r i c a l , that is to say discursive, world. H a b e r m a s , then, is of interest not as an example of 'error' but for the way in which the message of his text exceeds and subverts his intention. H e is not dissembling or otherwise at fault when he tells us: "I do not regard the fully t r a n s p a r e n t - - l e t me add in this context: or indeed a homogenized or unified - - society as an ideal . . . " (1985:94); nor in seeking to elaborate a "discourse theory of truth" (1985:85). The issues raised by our habituation to the system of documentation do not require, and are not well-served analytically by the production of, a villain in the form of a d o g m a t i c , suspect or reactionary writer, a discipline of such writers, or an ethnos of such writers (that i s , by the production of another f a c t , in any extension). This is precisely the point, for 'Habermas' conceives and conducts his action from start to finish as a documentary exercise, 'dispensing' with the transparent society by means of transparent writing and 'avowing' the need for a discourse theory by means of the same disavowal of the discursive. It is in this respect that his text propagates and circulates within the rhetorically invested world 59 and history of the document. Whatever may be the referents of "everyday l i f e and l i t e r a t u r e , science and f i c t i o n , poetry and philosophy" (1985:85), it is only their f a c t i c i t y which is in danger of collapsing, and only because, within the terms of this s y s t e m , the appearance of what appears will quite literally cease to be at the suggestion that it may be other than it appears: if presence is not identical with i t s e l f , as we have seen, it becomes an absence or a n o n - t h i n g - - i t disappears. The collapse is therefore catastrophic only because a c o m m i t m e n t to good or transparent writing already dictates the removal from language, custom and convention within which we might otherwise make more of the facts than the appearances they b e c o m e , not without irony, in this persistent attempt to secure the true or a solid foundation. We- say 'only', but not to minimize the very considerable a r t i f a c t this project has generated by way of routine practice and belief. There is no f a c t in documentation's sense to which this history might be r e f e r r e d , but if rumour is groundless, as is often said, it is equally remarked that it is no less e f f e c t i v e for all that. II. Readings that will always need Doing: Some L a s t Remarks Perhaps the need for a non-obvious rethinking of the idea(l) of technical writing will have been given some justification in the foregoing, and equally the suspicion that this would generate not another reading, but as many readings as there are ways to take up our belonging to the story and the system it sustains. This would only be an alarming prospect, it may not need emphasizing, in view of the idea that sense-making should come to an end. In the same way that we wish we could begin without having already begun, we would like to be finished before we start. T h e r e is no need to rehearse the problems of this l e g a c y , whose promise we know with all the f o r c e of rumour but whose requirements we are less familiar with even as we f u l f i l t h e m . When D e r r i d a says that "there is no nonmetaphoric language to oppose to 60 ' metaphors here" (1976:67), he is saying for present purposes that there is no access to the workings of this story which is not made from within it and by means of its (our) history. There is not one 'word' in the thesis, for example, which has not been party to the telling of this story in many times and many places. If some sense is being made in the present instance, then, it would not be by e f f e c t i n g to speak in 'another' language which belongs to 'another' time or p l a c e , and no such c l a i m is being made. Put otherwise, it is indeed a matter of reading and of writing d i f f e r e n t l y . A propos Derrida's work, we might begin seriously to consider the possibility that 'reading' is already a 'writing': If 'writing' signifies inscription and especially the durable institution of a sign (and that is the only irreducible kernel of the concept of writing), writing in general covers the entire field of linguistic signs (1976:44, emphasis added). T h a t i s , 'writing' already encompasses spoken and notational or technical language in the colloquial sense of these t e r m s . What D e r r i d a reworks and redirects of the concept of writing is the i d e a , already at work in its uses and etymology, of making a mark or making a difference: . . . 'to scratch,' 'to engrave,' 'to scribble,' 'to scrape,' 'to incise,' 'to trace,' 'to imprint,' e t c . A s if 'to write' in its metaphoric kernel'meant something else (1976:123). One could not ask, in a certain sense, for a more sociologically incisive c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n of the action of institution(s).! 61 NOTES 1 It is thus no accident that much deconstructive criticism concerns itself with reformulating in this light the conditions of reading, writing, translation, textuality, reception, formalisms and so on. In addition to sources cited in Chapter One, see also Graham (1985); Harrison (1985); Henning (1982); the particularly accessible work of the intellectual historian Dominick LaCapra (1978, 1982a, 1982b, 1983, 1985); Melville (1986); and Staten (1984, 1986). 62 B I B L I O G R A P H Y A b r a m s , M . H . 1979 "How to do things with texts." Partisan R e v i e w , 46: 566-588. A d o r n o , Theodor 1974 Minima M o r a l i a : R e f l e c t i o n s from Damaged L i f e . L o n d o n : Verso E d i t i o n s . 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work_hkdcdmm5zncn7fs7lzrnuxsekm	----	Connectivity as an emergent property of geomorphic systems State of Science Connectivity as an emergent property of geomorphic systems Ellen Wohl,1* Gary Brierley,2 Daniel Cadol,3 Tom J. Coulthard,4 Tim Covino,5 Kirstie A. Fryirs,6 Gordon Grant,7 Robert G. Hilton,8 Stuart N. Lane,9 Francis J. Magilligan,10 Kimberly M. Meitzen,11 Paola Passalacqua,12 Ronald E. Poeppl,13 Sara L. Rathburn14 and Leonard S. Sklar15 1 Colorado State University, Geosciences, Fort Collins, Colorado USA 2 University of Auckland, School of Environment, 10 Symonds Street, Auckland, New Zealand 3 New Mexico Institute of Mining and Technology, Earth and Environmental Science, 801 Leroy Pl, Socorro, New Mexico USA 4 University of Hull, Geography, Cottingham Road, Hull HU6 7RX, UK 5 Colorado State University, Ecosystem Science and Sustainability, Campus Delivery 1499, Fort Colins, Colorado USA 6 Macquarie University, Department of Environmental Sciences, Herring Road, North Ryde, New South Wales Australia 7 USDA Forest Service, Pacific Northwest Research Station, 3200 SW Jefferson Way, Corvallis, Oregon USA 8 Durham University, Geography, Science Laboratories, South Road, Durham DH1 3LE, UK 9 Université de Lausanne, Institute of Earth Surface Dynamics, Géopolis, Quartier Mouline, Lausanne, Vaud Switzerland 10 Dartmouth College, Geography, 6017 Fairchild, Hanover, New Hampshire USA 11 Texas State University, Geography, 601 University Drive, San Marcos, Texas USA 12 The University of Texas at Austin, Department of Civil, Architectural, and Environmental Engineering, 301 E. Dean Keeton St, STOP C1700 Austin, Texas USA 13 Department of Geography and Regional Research, University of Vienna, Universitaetsstrasse 7, Vienna, Austria 14 Geosciences, Colorado State University, 1482 Campus Delivery, Fort Collins, Colorado USA 15 Concordia University, Geography, Planning, and Environment, Henry F. Hall Building, Montreal, Quebec Canada, H3G 1M8 Received 8 September 2017; Revised 16 May 2018; Accepted 23 May 2018 *Correspondence to: Ellen Wohl, Colorado State University, Geosciences, Fort Collins, Colorado, USA. E-mail: ellen.wohl@colostate.edu ABSTRACT: Connectivity describes the efficiency of material transfer between geomorphic system components such as hillslopes and rivers or longitudinal segments within a river network. Representations of geomorphic systems as networks should recognize that the compartments, links, and nodes exhibit connectivity at differing scales. The historical underpinnings of connectivity in geomor- phology involve management of geomorphic systems and observations linking surface processes to landform dynamics. Current work in geomorphic connectivity emphasizes hydrological, sediment, or landscape connectivity. Signatures of connectivity can be detected using diverse indicators that vary from contemporary processes to stratigraphic records or a spatial metric such as sediment yield that encompasses geomorphic processes operating over diverse time and space scales. One approach to measuring connectivity is to determine the fundamental temporal and spatial scales for the phenomenon of interest and to make measurements at a sufficiently large multiple of the fundamental scales to capture reliably a representative sample. Another approach seeks to char- acterize how connectivity varies with scale, by applying the same metric over a wide range of scales or using statistical measures that characterize the frequency distributions of connectivity across scales. Identifying and measuring connectivity is useful in basic and applied geomorphic research and we explore the implications of connectivity for river management. Common themes and ideas that merit further research include; increased understanding of the importance of capturing landscape heterogeneity and connectivity patterns; the potential to use graph and network theory metrics in analyzing connectivity; the need to understand which metrics best represent the physical system and its connectivity pathways, and to apply these metrics to the validation of numerical models; and the need to recognize the importance of low levels of connectivity in some situations. We emphasize the value in evaluating bound- aries between components of geomorphic systems as transition zones and examining the fluxes across them to understand landscape functioning. © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Introduction Connectivity has become a widely used conceptual framework within geomorphology. Our primary objectives in this paper are to: (i) facilitate careful consideration of how to define and measure connectivity and disconnectivity across diverse spatial and temporal scales; (ii) explore the implications of connectivity, including the situations in which connectivity provides a useful EARTH SURFACE PROCESSES AND LANDFORMS Earth Surf. Process. Landforms 44, 4–26 (2019) © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Published online 9 July 2018 in Wiley Online Library (wileyonlinelibrary.com) DOI: 10.1002/esp.4434 http://orcid.org/0000-0001-7435-5013 http://orcid.org/0000-0002-4408-8548 http://orcid.org/0000-0002-6077-6076 http://orcid.org/0000-0001-5047-4288 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1002%2Fesp.4434&domain=pdf&date_stamp=2018-07-09 framework or new insight, potential signatures of connectivity in geomorphic systems, and how connectivity can be used in resource management; and (iii) highlight gaps in current under- standing of connectivity and potential pathways for future research. We first introduce some basic characteristics of con- nectivity as viewed in a geomorphic context, then review both the historical underpinnings of and recent work on connectivity in geomorphology. We then discuss the challenges of identifying and measuring connectivity, use river basins to illustrate the management implications of connectivity, and conclude with a summary of key questions and challenges to understanding and using connectivity in a geomorphic context. Connectivity in a geomorphic context As the scientific study of surface processes and landforms, and as a discipline that has largely developed from geology and physical geography, geomorphology has come to focus upon the fluxes of fluids (air, water) and sediment and the landforms resulting from, and influencing, those fluxes. The term geomorphic systems rec- ognizes couplings among seemingly discrete components of Earth’s surface and near-surface environments, such as water and sediment fluxes from hillslopes that govern the configuration of river channels or fluxes of eolian dust that influence rates of soil formation in geographically distant locations (Martignier et al., 2013). Attention to fluxes of material through landscapes dates to the founding of geomorphology as a discipline (Gilbert, 1880). The term connectivity has become widely used to de- scribe these fluxes within the past two decades. Several definitions of connectivity have been proposed (Table I). We define connectivity as the efficiency of transfer of materials between system components. Definition of system components varies between disciplines, such as between geo- morphology and ecology, and in relation to the material under consideration (e.g. water versus sediment). Geomorphic sys- tems can be represented as networks with compartments, links, and nodes. Using a drainage basin as an example, hillslopes and valley bottoms are compartments, channel segments are links, and channel junctions are nodes. Connectivity has value as a conceptual framing for investigat- ing the spatial and temporal variability of fluxes because it directs attention to: (i) interactions among geomorphic system compo- nents that may appear to be isolated in time and space, such as how relative base level fall triggers river incision and subsequent hillslope adjustments over timespans of 103–104 years (Burbank et al., 1996); (ii) the response of diverse geomorphic systems to varying inputs, such as how water and sediment fluxes from indi- vidual drainage basins respond to extreme storms as a function of characteristics such as basin size, river network structure, and the temporal sequence of extreme storms (Cenderelli and Wohl, 2003); (iii) the specific features of geomorphic systems that gov- ern connectivity, such as the landforms that limit sediment fluxes within a drainage basin (Fryirs et al., 2007a); and (iv) how human alterations of geomorphic systems influence system behavior, such as how flow regulation and associated changes in water and sediment connectivity alter river geometry and biotic com- munities. Connectivity also has value as a common framing shared among disciplines (Tetzlaff et al., 2007; Werner and Mc- Namara, 2007; Larsen et al., 2012; Puttock et al., 2013; Hauer et al., 2016). Connectivity is not an either/or attribute, but rather a contin- uum. Consequently, representations of geomorphic systems as networks must recognize that the compartments, links, and nodes exhibit connectivity at differing spatial and temporal scales and include diffuse and concentrated fluxes, and vari- able rates of flux (Passalacqua, 2017). Connectivity is typically limited to some degree through time and across space, so that understanding of one extreme of the continuum, disconnectivity, is equally important (Faulkner, 2008). Components or processes that are disconnected are those that either are too remote from each other in space or time, so that a change in one component or process does not lead to change in another, or those in which a threshold must be overcome to allow connectivity: a critical shear stress must be exceeded to allow sediment transport, for example, or a flow magnitude must be exceeded to overtop the channel banks and laterally connect the channel and floodplain. The end member of disconnectivity must be treated with caution because something that is disconnected at a short time scale may be connected at a longer time scale. In general, all mea- sures of connectivity are dependent on time and space scales and are relational in the sense of describing transfers between components of a system (Grant et al., 2017). Figure 1 illustrates the temporal aspect of connectivity in a manner similar to Schumm and Lichty’s (1965) conceptualiza- tion of variables changing between dependent and indepen- dent status over diverse time scales. In this figure, sediment transport is highly connected and continuous over longer time and larger space scales, but disconnected in time and space when considered over periods of years to decades that include substantial periods of lower flow without sediment transport. Analogously, the longitudinal profile may be continuously adjusting to fluctuations in relative base level and thus longitu- dinally connected over cyclic time scales, but segmented by the presence of knickpoints and thus less longitudinally con- nected over graded and steady time scales. Investigations of connectivity and disconnectivity in geomor- phic systems can focus on fluxes of different types of materials, such as water (Bracken et al., 2013; Larsen et al., 2017) or sed- iment (Fryirs et al., 2007a; Bracken et al., 2015; Li et al., 2016). Investigations can emphasize features that enhance or limit connectivity, such as landforms that create physical thresholds which must be exceeded before material can move between compartments (Kondolf et al., 2006; Fryirs et al., 2007a). Alter- natively, investigations can emphasize the magnitude, dura- tion, frequency, strength, timing, or spatial extent of connectivity (Cote et al., 2009; Cavalli et al., 2013). Jaeger and Olden (2012), for example, used electrical resistance sen- sors to quantify the longitudinal extent and duration of stream flow in an ephemeral channel network in Arizona, USA. Framing connectivity in a geomorphic context provides a ba- sis for considering both structural and functional components of the landscape. What has been referred to as structural con- nectivity is dependent on the position and spacing of landscape units and the extent to which they are in contact or distant from one another (Wainwright et al., 2011). Landscape units can vary from entire mountain ranges or drainage basins down to patches of land cover (e.g. forest versus grassland) or individual grass clumps on a hillslope with spatially discontinuous vegeta- tion cover. Structural connectivity influences the thresholds of magnitude and duration necessary to create fluxes between in- dividual landscape units. Floodplain wetlands adjacent to an active channel and at lower elevations may require a lower magnitude flood to achieve surface hydrologic connectivity with the channel than do floodplain wetlands farther from and/or higher than the channel (Galat et al., 1997; Poole et al., 2002). The occurrence of longitudinally continuous flow along intermittent or ephemeral channels in drylands depends partly on the magnitude and duration of precipitation inputs, but also on the structural connectivity governed by valley sur- face and subsurface geometry as this geometry creates alluvial reservoirs that must be saturated before surface flow occurs (Falke et al., 2011; Jaeger and Olden, 2012). 5GEOMORPHIC CONNECTIVITY © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) Table I. Definitions and quantitative metrics of connectivity (after Wohl, 2017, Tables I and II) A) Definition Reference Connectivity in the context of landscape dynamics describes the transmission of matter and energy among system components (Harvey, 1987, 1997, 2001, 2002; Godfrey et al., 2008) Hydrological connectivity as the exchange of matter, energy, and biota between different elements of the riverine landscape via the aqueous medium Amoros and Roux, 1988 Hydrological connectivity can be defined as the physical linkage of water and sediment through the fluvial system. Hooke, 2003; Lesschen et al., 2009 Hydrologic connectivity refers to the water-mediated transfer of matter, energy, and/or organisms within or between elements of the hydrologic cycle Pringle, 2003 River hydrologic connectivity refers to the water-mediated fluxes of material, energy, and organisms within and among components, e.g. the channel, floodplain, alluvial aquifer, etc. of the ecosystem Kondolf et al., 2006 Static/structural connectivity: static elements of hydrological connectivity are spatial patterns, such as hydrological runoff units, that can be categorized, classified, and estimated; spatial patterns in the landscape (Turnbull et al., 2008) Bracken and Croke, 2007 Dynamic/functional connectivity: describes both the longer term landscape developments, such as changes following abandonment of agriculture, and short-term variation in antecedent conditions and rainfall inputs to systems that result in nonlinearities in hillslope and catchment response to rainfall; how spatial patterns interact with catchment processes to produce water transfer in catchments (Turnbull et al., 2008) Bracken and Croke, 2007 Process connectivity: the evolutionary dynamics of how systems operate; also defined as flow of information among a system’s drivers, where information is a reduction of the uncertainty in a variable’s state Bracken and Croke, 2007; Passalacqua, 2017; Ruddell and Kumar, 2009 Three stages of landscape connectivity: coupled linkage when there is free transmission between landscape units; partial coupling when a discontinuity between units results in pulses of sediment movement; partly connected stage when there is a decrease of transmission due to impediments, but some material can pass the impediment during an effective event; buffers hinder lateral connectivity, barriers hinder longitudinal connectivity, and blankets hinder vertical connectivity Fryirs et al., 2007a; Jain and Tandon, 2010 Initiation of a shallow groundwater table across hillslope, riparian, and stream zones Jencso and McGlynn, 2011 Hydrologic connectivity describes connection, via the subsurface flow system, between the riparian zone and the upland zone, which occurs when the water table at the upland–riparian zone interface is above the confining layer (Also presents 10 other definitions from the literature, categorized with respect to water cycle or landscape features at the watershed scale, and landscape features, spatial patterns, and flow processes at the hillslope scale) Bracken et al., 2013 Sediment connectivity: the degree of linkage that controls sediment fluxes throughout landscapes and in particular between sediment sources and downstream areas Cavalli et al., 2013 Sediment connectivity is the water-mediated transfer of sediment between two different compartments of the catchment sediment cascade; catchment disconnectivity can be expressed as the degree to which any limiting factor constrains the efficiency of sediment transfer relationships Fryirs, 2013 Connectivity defined as the transfer of matter between two different landscape compartments Wester et al., 2014 Connectivity describes the integrated transfer of sediment across all possible sources to all potential sinks in a system over the continuum of detachment, transport, and deposition, which is controlled by how the sediment moves between all geomorphic zones; on hillslopes, between hillslopes and channels, and within channels. Bracken et al., 2015 Describe two fluxes as connected if they are in close spatial proximity along the river network; refer to connectivity as the state of two or more fluxes being connected; dynamic connectivity refers to how the connectivity of fluxes changes in time Czuba and Foufoula-Georgiou, 2015 Defines five layers of hydrologic connectivity as hillslope, hyporheic, stream-groundwater, riparian/ floodplain, and longitudinal within channels Covino, 2017 B Description Metric Reference Primarily hydrologic metrics Integral connectivity scale lengths (ICSL) Average distance over which wet locations are connected using either Euclidean distances or topographically defined hydrologic distances; 1 of 15 indices of hillslope hydrologic connectivity in Bracken et al. (2013: Table IV) Western et al., 2001 Attenuated imperviousness (I) I ¼ ∑j AjWjð ÞAc � � Weighted impervious area as a percentage of catchment area; Aj is the area of the jth impervious surface; Wj is the weighting applied to Aj; Ac is catchment area Walsh and Kunapo, 2009 River Connectivity Index (RCI) DCIP ¼ ∑ n i¼1 v2i V2 �100 The size of disconnected river fragments between dams in relation to the total size of the original river network, based on Cote et al. (2009) DCI; size can be described in terms of volume (example at left), length, or other variables Grill et al., 2014 (Continues) 6 E. WOHL ET AL. © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) The assemblage and spatial pattern of landforms (i.e. type, size, and adjacency) produces the structural, physical template from which to examine the extent to which interactions be- tween landforms at different spatial and temporal scales occur. For example, Jain and Tandon (2010) and Hooke (2003) de- scribe connectivity patterns in terms of whether landforms are connected, partially connected or discrete. Fryirs et al. (2007a) describe the position of landforms that act as blockages within the landscape. As water flows over landforms, elements that influence structural connectivity may be modified as the landscape evolves by weathering and erosion processes. The time scale of this evolution can be rapid, such as during large mass wasting events (Korup et al., 2004), progressive over sea- sons and decades (Lane et al., 2017), or acting over long-term time scales >103 years (Prasicek et al., 2015). Because we define connectivity as the efficiency of material transfer, we suggest that the structural configuration of geomor- phic systems, although strongly influencing connectivity, be described as system configuration rather than structural con- nectivity. This leaves connectivity as referring specifically to what has been called functional connectivity. Functional connectivity operates within this structural tem- plate. In geomorphic terms functional connectivity refers to the processes associated with the sources and fluxes of water, sedi- ment, and solutes through a landscape and the transfer of those materials between multiple, contiguous structural components or between components of a system that are physically isolated except for relatively brief periods of connectivity (Jain and Tandon, 2010; Wainwright et al., 2011). In analyses of functional connectivity, the strength of connectivity or linkage between Table 1. (Continued) B Description Metric Reference Primarily sediment metrics Sediment delivery ratio (SDR) SDR ¼ net erosiontotal erosion Measure of sediment connectivity Brierley et al., 2006 Connectivity Index (IC) IC ¼ log10 DupDdn � � Dup ¼ WS ffiffiffiffi A p Ddn ¼ ∑ i di WiSi W ¼ 1 � RIRIMAX � � Roughness Index (RI) RI ¼ ffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffiffi ∑ 25 i¼1 xi � xmð Þ2 25 vuuut Dup and Ddn are the upslope and downslope components of connectivity, respectively, with connectivity increasing as IC increases; W is the average weighting factor of the upslope contributing area, S is the average slope gradient of the upslope contributing area, and A is the upslope contributing area; di is the length of the flow path along the ith cell according to the steepest downslope direction, Wi and Si are the weighting factor and the slope gradient of the ith cell, respectively; RIMAX is the maximum value of RI in the study area; 25 is the number of processing cells within a 5 X 5 moving window, xi is the value of one specific cell of the residual topography within the moving window, and xm is the mean of the 25 cell values Cavalli et al., 2013 Complexity index based on overall relief Dhmax Dhmax = Emax - Emin and slope variability SV SV = Smax – Smin Where Emax and Emin are the maximum and minimum elevations, respectively, in the catchment; Smax and Smin are the maximum and minimum, respectively, % slope within the area of analysis (moving window) Baartman et al., 2013 Cluster Persistence Index (CPI) CPIi ¼ ∫ over all times t M ið Þ j tð Þdt Defines clusters within a river network where mass (sediment) coalesces into a connected extent of the network; the superscript (i) denotes all clusters M ið Þ j that occupy link i at time t Czuba and Foufoula- Georgiou, 2015 Metrics for diverse fluxes C tð Þ ¼ ∑ m tð Þ i¼1 ∑ ni tð Þ j¼1 pij tð ÞSij tð Þ Patch connectivity, along with line, vertex, and network connectivity, can be used to characterize landscape connectivity; patch connectivity is the average movement efficiency between patches; C is patch connectivity, pij (t) is the area proportion of the jth patch in the ith land cover type to the total area under investigation at time t; S is movement efficiency; 0<C (t) <1.1. Yue et al., 2004 DCI ¼ ∑ ν i¼1 ∑ R j¼rþ1 wij dx j�rð Þ dij ∑ ν i¼1 ∑ R j¼rþ1 wij Directional connectivity index (DCI); i is a node index, j is a row index, r is the row containing the node i, R is the total number of rows in the direction of interest, dx is the relative pixel length along that direction, dij is the shortest connected structural or functional distance between node i and any node in row j, wij is a weighting function Larsen et al., 2012 Adjacency matrix Applies a connectivity analysis to a delta by identifying a set of objects (e.g. locations or variables) arranged in a network such that objects are nodes and connections or physical dependencies are links; evaluate connections between nodes using the mathematical technique of an adjacency matrix, which captures whether two nodes are connected, as well as link directionality and the strength of the connection Newman et al., 2006; Heckmann et al., 2015; Passalacqua, 2017 7GEOMORPHIC CONNECTIVITY © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) different parts of landscapes is considered. These linkages may be strong, weak, or non-existent (i.e. disconnected). Functional con- nectivity emphasizes the need to think about how the landscape limits the connectivity of the material under consideration, whether water, sediment, or nutrients. Frameworks for assessing hydrological connectivity and sediment connectivity and how these fluxes function in geomorphic terms have been developed and applied in many different landscape settings in order to un- derstand landscape change through time and to develop strate- gies for managing landscape processes (Fryirs et al., 2007b; Lane et al., 2009). Lane and Milledge (2013), for example, used a catchment-scale model to evaluate the effect of shallow upland drains on flow hydrographs. Lisenby and Fryirs (2017a) compare the spatial distributions of landforms expected to influence coarse-sediment transport to downstream patterns of bed- sediment fining and evaluate the effects of landform-induced disconnectivity on sediment size distributions. The configuration and state of the system under consideration strongly influence the expression of connectivity (Gran and Czuba, 2017; Rice, 2017). Increasing landscape morphological complexity can correspond to decreasing connectivity (Baartman et al., 2013), for example, and segments of a river network with wider valley bottoms can produce longitudinal and lateral disconnectivity in fluxes (Fryirs, 2013; Wohl et al., 2017b). The state of the system includes the capacity for adjustment and prox- imity to thresholds, as well as location within an evolutionary tra- jectory or spatially within a larger system (Brierley and Fryirs, 2016). Configuration and state are interrelated. Places in a river network with local sediment disconnectivity, for example, can accumulate sediment through time and become sites with higher potential for geomorphic change, or they can be areas that ab- sorb change and limit manifestation of disturbance at off-site lo- cations (Czuba and Foufoula-Georgiou, 2015; Lisenby and Fryirs, 2017a, 2017b). Structural and functional connectivity are tightly interwoven. Many studies focus on how the spatial template created by structural configuration interacts with variations in available energy to drive spatial and temporal fluctuations in functional connectivity (Jencso et al., 2009, 2010; Jensco and McGlynn, 2011; Souza et al., 2016; Wohl et al., 2017b). Croke et al. (2013) and Thompson et al. (2016), for example, use longitudi- nal variations in valley-bottom configuration and the measured and modeled extent of floodplain inundation during an ex- treme flood to infer connectivity between channel and flood- plain. Other investigations examine how changes in structural configuration alter functional connectivity (Puttock et al., 2013; Segurado et al., 2015) or how changes in available en- ergy or material inputs to a geomorphic system create simulta- neous changes in structural configuration and functional connectivity (Wester et al., 2014; Micheletti et al., 2015). Vanacker et al. (2005) provides an example of how changes in structural configuration can alter functional connectivity by relating changes in the spatial distribution of agriculture and forested lands within a catchment in the Ecuadorian Andes to river channel response. Although the overall land use did not change, the changed spatial distribution of land use altered wa- ter and sediment connectivity within the catchment, resulting in channel narrowing, incision, and streambed fining. Wester et al. (2014) provides an example of how changes in energy and material inputs can alter structural configuration and con- nectivity by quantifying changes in morphodynamics and sed- iment transport on hillslopes following wildfire and rainstorms. A reliable connectivity framework should allow for analysis of both the static and the dynamic aspects of landscapes, and therefore be flexible enough to consider structural configura- tion and functional connectivity over varying timeframes. Static frameworks provide a snapshot of how the landscape is struc- tured and functioning at any particular point in time. Dynamic frameworks recognize three key factors. First, the structure of the landscape can change and therefore the type, position, and pattern of landforms in a landscape can change, producing alterations in connectivity. Second, the strength of functional connectivity is likely to change in association with changes to structural configuration. Third, structural configuration and functional connectivity may change depending on the magni- tude of the disturbances that drive fluxes of water and sediment through landscapes (e.g. rainfall, floods, or mass wasting). A common theme among investigations of connectivity is the response of a system to some change or lack of change in boundary conditions that may be external to the system (e.g. climate or tectonic inputs) or internal within the system (e.g. fluxes of water and sediment). Boundary conditions can vary depending on the time and space scales of the investigation. How such conditions, and their changes, are transferred to an output depends on the system configuration, which may also vary with time and space scales in response to the changes in flux caused by those boundary conditions (Romans et al., 2016). Thus, changes in boundary conditions can be modified – either dampened or amplified – by linked sets of processes operating within the system. Resulting outputs may always con- verge or, more likely, be unique but similar in magnitude and frequency. For example, a mountainous drainage basin consid- ered over the timespan of a century has relatively fixed bound- ary conditions such as the river network configuration and geometry of individual valley segments. Varying boundary con- ditions include inputs of water and sediment from adjacent up- lands. Outputs fluctuate across space and through time in a manner that reflects river network configuration and valley ge- ometry, but also water and sediment inputs at any point in time, as well as the history of water and sediment inputs and Figure 1. Variations in connectivity of example geomorphic processes as a function of the time scale under consideration. Cyclic, graded, and steady time scales indicated as orders of magnitude in years. Upward and downward arrows indicate greater and lesser degrees of connectivity, re- spectively, and + indicates either option. (After Schumm and Lichty, 1965, Table I.) 8 E. WOHL ET AL. © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) associated changes in the alluvial configuration of the channel and floodplain within valley segments (Figure 2). This concep- tualization of connectivity focuses on how efficiently change is communicated to an output and therefore which processes and links need to be studied to effectively understand a geomorphic system. Fluxes can also be conceptualized as information propaga- tion, which Ruddell and Kumar (2009) define as the contribu- tion of uncertainty-reducing or predictive information provided by the time lag history of one variable to the future value of another (Figure 3). In this conceptualization, the key questions become whether information can be propagated and how information propagation can be discontinuous in space and time (degree of connectivity), how it is propagated (processes of connectivity), and what is the transfer entropy of information propagation (defined as the asymmetric informa- tion flow between two variables, or directionality of connectiv- ity; Schreiber, 2000). Although structural configuration and functional connectiv- ity are tightly interrelated, functional connectivity is the focus of most studies of connectivity in geomorphic systems. Conse- quently, connectivity refers primarily to functional connectivity in the rest of this paper unless stated otherwise. Connectivity research in geomorphology: origins and current focus Historical underpinnings of connectivity in geomorphology The historical underpinnings of connectivity in geomorphic systems emerged from two fundamental perspectives. One in- volves the cultural or societal management of geomorphic sys- tems, such as river basin management for flood control, irrigation, and water supply (Kondolf et al., 2006). The other perspective involves basic and applied observations linking Earth surface processes to landform dynamics, such as source to sink connections linking erosion, transport, and deposition to processes of hillslope and valley formation (Harvey, 1987; Anthony and Julian, 1999; Warrick et al., 2015). These origins can be traced back thousands of years and are still relevant in a contemporary context for why connectivity in geomorphic systems merits our attention (Table II). The earliest known societal actions seeking to understand and to measure connectivity in geomorphic systems can be traced back to at least 5000 BC when the Sumerians and the Egyptians engineered elaborate projects to manipulate the movement and storage of river water for flood control and irri- gation (Newson, 1997). These and subsequent manipulations of geomorphic systems and associated changes in connectivity were sometimes undertaken in ignorance of basic aspects of the hydrologic cycle. Perhaps the most fundamental question faced by early naturalists confronted with a river was the source of continued flow in the absence of precipitation (Tuan, 1968; Duffy, 2017). Although notions regarding the hydrological cy- cle can be traced back to much earlier (Duffy, 2017), it was not until Bernard Palissy formally elucidated the hydrological cycle in the late 16th century that a comprehensive account of the connectivity between the ocean, atmosphere, precipita- tion, and river systems was developed (Karterakis et al., 2007). Italian and French Renaissance scholars, c. 1400–1800, ex- amined landscape-scale processes of erosion, transport, and deposition, and their role in creating channel networks on the landscape and major river valleys (Hugget, 2007). In the 18th and 19th centuries, Scottish geologists James Hutton and John Playfair made many of the same observations regarding the role of erosion as a dominant force on the landscape, noting that rivers are systematically ordered from smaller headwater streams to progressively larger rivers. The underlying concept that a river is connected to, and is responsible for forming the landscape – particularly the valley – through which it flows, is usually attributed to Playfair (1802). During the 19th century, Figure 2. Schematic illustration of relations among geomorphic system components and material inputs for a mountainous drainage basin con- sidered over the timespan of a century. At this relatively short timespan, basic network configuration is fixed. Inputs of water, sediment, and other materials vary through time and across space. Boundary conditions both respond to fixed structure and varying inputs, and influence fluxes of materials through the drainage basin, resulting in outputs that reflect, but also differ from, inputs. Connectivity represents one way to express these relations: connectivity can be used to describe: (i) the nature of and controls on specific linkages; and (ii) the evolving state of the drainage basin. [Colour figure can be viewed at wileyonlinelibrary.com] 9GEOMORPHIC CONNECTIVITY © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) http://wileyonlinelibrary.com Figure 3. Schematic illustration of connectivity as information propagation. This figure illustrates network feedback statistics for three example cases on a four-node network. R” is the surrogate source–sink redundancy, a measure of the topology of the network’s couplings. Flows from a single source dominate the network on the left, resulting in a higher value of R”. Circular flows dominate the network in the middle, resulting in minimum R” and feedback dominance. Flows into a single sink dominate the network on the right, resulting in a higher value of R”. (From Ruddell and Kumar, 2009, Figure 1.) Table II. Historical (5000 BC–early 1900s) contributions to connectivity in geomorphic systems from a fluvial perspective. Selections from Hugget (2007), Newson (1997), Gregory and Lewin (2014) and authors’ discretion Mesopotamia, Sumerians (5000–3000 BC): Hydraulic-based irrigation and flood control projects of the Tigris and Euphrates via canals and drainage of floodplains and marshlands. Egypt, Egyptians (5000–2000 BC): River and society connections involving water supply, irrigation, and flood storage projects. Collection of river levels using the Roda ‘nilometer’ for predicting lateral river–floodplain connections for irrigation and flood control. Emporer Yu the Great, China (2200–2101 BC): River network and basin mapping, and engineering of flood control using dikes, dams, dredging, and irrigation canal systems. Lucius Anneaus Seneca (4 BC–AD 65): Roman philosopher recognition that rivers erode and create their valleys. Claudius Ptolemy (100 AD–168 AD): Greek–Egyptian scientists depicted the first river basin map of the Nile connecting the ‘Mountains of the Moon’ headwaters to the ‘Upper, Middle, and Lower Lands’ and eventually with the Mediterranean Sea. Leonardo DaVinci (1452–1519): Italian renaissance scholar illustrated how rivers carved valleys and moved materials from one place and deposited them in another, and painted the first slope-contoured, shaded relief drainage map of the Arno River in Italy (1502–1503), complete with head- waters, tributaries, and main stem river connections. Giovanni Targioni-Tozzetti (1712–1784): Italian scholar observed that river patterns and the courses they took in their valleys were a function of the lithology and processes of differential erosion. Jean-Étienne Guettard (1715–1786): French naturalist recognized mountain to sea connections, i.e. sediment eroded from mountains was deposited as floodplains or carried to the sea. James Hutton (172–1797): Scottish geologist who recognized erosion was the dominant forces carving large river valleys. Hutton also engineered hydrologic connections on the landscape by building canals for navigation and water supply. John Playfair (1748–1819): Scottish professor who expanded on Hutton’s ideas, and showed that channels form in systematic order, whereby small rivers drain into larger rivers and so forth, until you have a mainstem river and valley complex, and that these river networks are organized into drainage basins. Captain Henry M. Shreve (1785–1851): American soldier, artificially cut a neck through ‘Turnbull’s Bend’ on the Mississippi River disconnecting the river from its preferred path down the Atchafalaya in 1831. This led to the construction of the Old River Control Structure in 1963, which has permanently controlled the course of the river ever since. George Perkins Marsh (1801–1882): American environmentalists pioneered early understanding of human-induced land cover and land use changes and their connections to impacts to land and water processes. Charles Darwin (1809–1882): English explorer observed rivers as agents of erosion, attributed anthropomorphic terms youth, middle age, old age, and rejuvenation to cycles of landscape evolution. John Newberry (1822–1892): American geologist recognized that rivers carved tremendous canyons, i.e. Grand Canyon, through the terrain of the American West. John Wesley Powell (1834–1902): American soldier, professor, and head of USGS (1870–1892), first scientists to descend the Colorado River system from its headwaters. Established hydrologic surveys for commissioning of western US dams. Grove Karl Gilbert (1843–1918): American geologists contributed substantially to our understanding of geomorphology as an open system of inputs, outputs, and fluxes of energy and material exchanges from his work in the western US and most notable his regional geologic-geomorphic descriptions of the Henry Mountains, Utah. Described landscape evolution through processes of erosion, incision, transport, and deposition. Robert Horton (1875–1945): Textbook father of network-based stream order patterns from topographic analysis, and applications of stream order to quantifying drainage basin sizes, accumulation through a network, hill-slope erosion, and runoff processes. John T. Hack (1913–1991): Established early theories of dynamic equilibrium and steady state models that described geomorphic processes and forms changing relative to a balanced steady state of inputs and outputs. Luna B. Leopold (1915–2006): Established field methods for quantifying fluvial forms and processes, by understanding connections among sediment sources, transport, and deposition. Arthur N. Strahler (1918–2002): Advanced Horton’s stream order concepts into the format commonly used today, and contributed to quantitative methods for measuring other morphometric indices and hillslope erosion processes. M. Gordan ‘Reds’ Wolman (1924–2010): Established field methods for quantifying fluvial forms and processes, with a focus on floodplain depositional styles and the importance of drainage basin and local scale controls. Richard Chorley (1927–2002): Introduced complex system theory to geomorphology through sub-system classification of morphological, cascading, process-response, and control systems. Stanley Schumm (1927–2011): Developed concept of sediment budgets as a method for quantifying sediment sources, transport, and sinks through a drainage basin and for measuring sediment yield. James C. Knox (1941– 2012): Provided significant evidence that human-induced changes have substantially more sedimentation impacts to rivers and floodplains than natural, climate-driven changes. Knox’s work underscores the importance of why understanding river–landscape connectivity dynamics is critical to how we interpret geomorphic form, process, and management practices. 10 E. WOHL ET AL. © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) this perceived connectivity between the river and the land- scape that it drains prompted the recognition that geomorphic effects could propagate through the landscape, linking, for ex- ample, deforestation on slopes and floods in channels (Marsh, 1864). Indigenous peoples and Asian civilizations may have recognized these forms of connectivity earlier, but the contem- porary geomorphic tradition largely derives from western Europe and North America. Early human modifications of river connectivity in the United States occurred during 19th century artificial river cutoffs and wood removal (Table II). Human manipulations of connectivity in US rivers continued with hydrologic surveys conducted by John Wesley Powell that led to the commissioning of numerous large dams on western rivers. After the pace of dam building in- creased to a peak in the mid-20th century in the US and west- ern Europe, subsequent recognition of the detrimental effects of altered connectivity within river corridors drove efforts to re- move dams or modify their operating regime (Bednarek, 2001). Another widespread form of river engineering, the chan- nelization of large meandering or anastomosing rivers such as the Danube (Pisut, 2002) and the Rhine (Diaz-Redondo et al., 2017) in Europe during the latter half of the 19th century also resulted in increased longitudinal connectivity and reduced lat- eral connectivity for water and sediment. During this 19th century period of intensified river engineer- ing, geomorphology was being established as a scientific disci- pline and with that grew a conceptual framework that described landforms relative to systems theories and linkages be- tween process and response dynamics. GK Gilbert, a prominent founder of geomorphology in the United States, was the first to discuss feedbacks among inputs, outputs, and exchanges of ma- terial and energy through geomorphic processes (Gilbert, 1877). In their modern incarnations, the principles of geomorphic connectivity draw heavily on historical antecedent ideas of the watershed as a fundamental unit, the linkages between process and form, and the importance of understanding how materials and disturbances propagate through watersheds. A century after Gilbert’s seminal 1877 publication on the geology of the Henry Mountains, for example, Chorley and Kennedy (1971) defined the geomorphic system as a process–response complex consisting of two interacting sub-systems – the morphological system and the cascading system. The morphological system in- cludes the physical, geomorphic landforms on Earth’s surface and the cascading system includes the energy and mass/material fluxes interacting with the morphology of the land- forms. One sub-system cannot function independently of the other and collectively they function relative to process–response dynamics that vary in space and time, and at varied scales of space (spatial area considerations) and time (temporal period or rate consideration). Within the connectivity framework, the mor- phological system defines the structural connectivity and the cas- cading system represents the functional connectivity. Chorley and Kennedy’s (1971) coupled process–response complex, and the transfer of energy and matter between land- forms and within the system, represents the first mention of connectivity in geomorphology. This work built on the classic equilibrium theory of cyclic, graded, and steady time (Schumm and Lichty, 1965) and threshold-lag-reaction-recovery equilib- riums of dynamic, dynamic meta-stable, and steady time (Chorley and Kennedy 1971; Schumm, 1979; Chorley and Beckinsale, 1980; Graf, 1988). Brunsden and Thornes (1979) advanced the concepts of process–response coupling by contending that the process of landscape change is driven by the capacity of the landscape to transmit an impulse between system components, and that the capacity is controlled by the landscape connection be- tween components (described as path density) and the strength of the coupling (how (in) directly the impulse is transmitted). The sensitivity of landscape change is then determined by the rate of response. Highly connected and strongly coupled sys- tems respond quickly and are commonly more morphologi- cally complex, whereas less-connected and weakly coupled systems respond slowly and are less complex (Brunsden and Thornes, 1979). These ideas are direct predecessors of the con- cepts of information propagation (Ruddell and Kumar, 2009) and network-based graph theory (Heckmann et al., 2015). Other major historical contributions linking landscape con- nectivity to geomorphic systems involved the development of methods and techniques for quantitatively measuring drainage basin morphometry and surface runoff (Horton, 1945; Strahler, 1952, 1954). The classic Horton (1945) and Strahler (1954) stream ordering methods also represent one of the few spatial connectivity metrics shared across biological and physical dis- ciplines for communicating structural and functional properties of riverine ecosystems (Stanford and Ward, 1992). The founda- tions for quantifying stream morphometry using network- and areal-based measurements (Gardiner, 1975) provided a spatial and conceptual framework for organizing river basins relative to dominant processes, such as the production, transport, and, deposition zones described by Schumm (1977). These spatial frameworks led to advances in analyzing source-to-sink sedi- ment budget and sediment yield dynamics (Trimble, 1977, 1983; Walling, 1983) and later to disturbance-driven geomor- phic process-domains organized along a river continuum (Montgomery, 1999). Geomorphic understandings of process–response coupling and its role in landscape sensitivity to change (Brunsden, 1993, 2001; Harvey, 1997, 2002; Nakamura et al., 2000) and sediment budget fluxes (Dietrich and Dunne, 1978; Walling, 1983; Reid and Dunne, 2003, 2016) are increasingly incorporated within broader inter- and multi-disciplinary programs that integrate per- spectives from hydrology, biology, ecology, and biogeochemistry with a focus on connectivity relationships (Wohl et al., 2017a). Human manipulations of land cover, topography, and river corri- dors have strongly altered connectivity across diverse landscapes (Pringle, 2003; Hooke, 2006; Fryirs, 2013). River restoration is now the most widely practiced management action explicitly de- signed to mitigate some of the negative aspects of past human- induced alterations of connectivity (Buijse et al., 2002; Kondolf et al., 2006; Magilligan et al., 2016a). Consequently, it is impor- tant to highlight that although recognition of the importance of geomorphic connectivity may seem like a relatively recent devel- opment, its roots are deep. Current work on connectivity In the last two decades, research using connectivity as a con- ceptual framework has experienced a boom in geomorphology, developing new or adapting already existing concepts of con- nectivity to better understand system complexity and response to change (Bracken et al., 2013, 2015; Poeppl et al., 2017). In this context, geomorphologists have also begun to assimilate notions of connectivity from other disciplines, especially ecol- ogy (Merriam, 1984; Amoros and Roux, 1988; Ward and Stanford, 1989; Ward, 1997) and hydrology (Pringle, 2001, 2003) (cf. Bracken and Croke, 2007; Poeppl et al., 2017), seek- ing to better describe water and sediment dynamics in catch- ment systems (Croke et al., 2005; Brierley et al., 2006; Fryirs et al., 2007a, 2007b; Turnbull et al., 2008; Wainwright et al., 2011; Fryirs, 2013; Gomez-Velez and Harvey, 2014; Bracken et al., 2015; Lisenby and Fryirs, 2017a, 2017b). Depending on the respective disciplinary basis, three types of connectivity have commonly been differentiated in geomorphic contexts, 11GEOMORPHIC CONNECTIVITY © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) although all of the types are interdependent: (1) sediment con- nectivity, which is the potential for sediment to move through geomorphic systems (Hooke, 2003) as governed by the physi- cal coupling of landforms; (2) landscape connectivity, which is the physical coupling of landforms; and (3) hydrological con- nectivity, which describes the passage of the transporting me- dium from one part of the landscape to another. Structural configuration and functional connectivity are inherent in each of these types of connectivity. Considerations of sediment connectivity in geomorphology are generally rooted in: (i) sediment budget approaches, em- phasizing how the distribution of sediment stores and sinks re- flect and influence the travel distances and pathways of sediment movement in geomorphic systems; or (ii) hillslope– channel connectivity (Harvey, 2012; Li et al., 2016), catchment-scale sediment tracing (Fryirs and Gore, 2013), or continuum-based approaches using the concept of hydrologi- cal connectivity (Lexartza-Artza and Wainwright, 2009, 2011; cf. Bracken et al., 2015). In an ecological context, hydrological connectivity was defined by Pringle (2001) as being the water- mediated transfer of matter, energy, and/or organisms within or between elements of the hydrologic cycle. Prior to that, stream ecology conceptual models including the river continuum con- cept (Vannote et al., 1980), the flood-pulse model (Junk et al., 1989), and the serial discontinuity concept (Ward and Stanford, 1983) emphasized the ecological implications of diverse forms of connectivity. Ecological approaches to connectivity have been assimilated by hydrologists, resulting in a novel frame- work for understanding runoff and run on in catchment systems (Bracken and Croke, 2007; Ali and Roy, 2009). Landscape connectivity has been defined in landscape ecol- ogy as being the degree to which a landscape facilitates or im- pedes the movement of individuals (Taylor et al., 1993). Similar notions regarding the role of structural landscape characteris- tics in a geomorphic context can be found in the coupling con- cept of Brunsden and Thornes (1979) and, later, in conceptualizations of the four-dimensional nature of lotic eco- systems (Ward, 1989). Brierley et al. (2006) elaborated these ideas and developed a connectivity framework in which they characterized different forms of landscape connectivity based on the position of geomorphic processes in a catchment (i.e. longitudinal, lateral, and vertical connectivity), explaining the efficiency of sediment transfer relationships within catchment systems (see also Fryirs et al., 2007a, Fryirs et al., 2007b). In bio-geomorphic floodplain systems, the four dimensions of connectivity provide a framework to examine hydrologic- mediated exchanges of organisms, nutrients, carbon, and en- ergy (Zeug et al., 2005; Opperman et al., 2010; Kupfer et al., 2014; Matella and Merenlender, 2015). Also following ecological literature (Turner, 1989), geomor- phologists drew a distinction between structural connectivity as the extent to which landscape units are physically linked to one another (With et al., 1997; Tischendorf and Fahrig, 2000; Turnbull et al., 2008; Wainwright et al., 2011) and func- tional connectivity as accounting for the way in which interac- tions between multiple structural characteristics affect geomorphic processes (Kimberley et al., 1997; With et al., 1997; Turnbull et al., 2008; Wainwright et al., 2011; Bracken et al., 2015). Recent studies have suggested that geomorphic system response to change can be governed by feedback rela- tionships between structural configuration and functional con- nectivity (Turnbull et al., 2008; Wainwright et al., 2011; Bracken et al. 2015; Poeppl et al., 2017). These structural– functional feedback relationships further drive a variety of bio-geomorphic interactions in river systems (e.g. exchanges of water, sediment, and propagules) that influence coupled landforms and development of biotic communities (Hupp and Bornette, 2003; Osterkamp and Hupp, 2010; Meitzen and Kupfer, 2015). Identifying signatures of connectivity in the geomorphic record One of the challenges of a conceptual framework designed around connectivity is to identify signatures of differing degrees of connectivity in contemporary geomorphic processes and in sedimentary or other records of past processes. The first instinct when looking for a signature of connectivity is to detect changes in a measurement that corresponds to, for example, an input to the system. From a hydrological perspective, this may be looking for a peak in a hydrograph in response to a storm. From a sediment perspective, this could be identifying a pulse of increased eolian dust inputs that affects rate of soil formation. From a geomorphic perspective this may not be quite so straightforward, however, for at least two reasons. First, a peak in, for instance, water or sediment output at a point in space partly reflects what is happening in the basin above that point, but several different combinations of events or circum- stances may give rise to this response (equifinality) (Chorley, 1962). Second, the geomorphic response is governed by the availability of transporting mechanisms such as water but also the supply of sediment and the landscape configuration as shaped by the history of sediment-transporting flows (Harvey, 1997; Cenderelli and Wohl, 2003). This implies that the geo- morphic system has a more effective memory of past events than the hydrological system, in which memory can (literally) evaporate. Therefore, the connectivity signature may be better represented with a spatial metric that encompasses how geo- morphic processes operate over time and space. Examples of this include DEMs of difference (DoD) in which topographies from different time periods can be compared to indicate where there have been elevation changes and thus erosion and depo- sition (Lane et al., 1994; Wheaton et al., 2010). The use of this method has been greatly aided by the recent widespread avail- ability of high-resolution lidar topographic data (Jones et al., 2007; Passalacqua et al., 2015; Clubb et al., 2017). Geomorphic responses that represent changes in connectiv- ity are highly nonlinear. Commonly controlled by erosional thresholds such as slope failure angles or entrainment thresh- olds in bedload transport, the response of a landscape or drain- age basin to different magnitude forcings can thus be complex. Evidence of this is widespread throughout geomorphic studies, dating to Schumm’s work on complex response (Schumm, 1973) as well as more recent modeling work (Coulthard and Van De Wiel, 2007). Modeling the geomorphic response of ba- sins to climate change, Coulthard et al. (2012) show how in- creases in rainfall magnitude lead to linear increases in water outputs but exponential increases in sediment delivery. This is driven partly by thresholds in sediment transport but also by spatial and temporal changes in availability of sediment, which in turn are contingent upon the basin’s past history of events. When viewing river bedload transport, Jerolmack and Paola (2010) argue that sediment transport processes can act as a non- linear filter which can completely erase (or ‘shred’) the original characteristics of an environmental signal (i.e. its relative magni- tude and duration). The degree of this shredding is thought to de- pend on the ratio between the signal frequency and the time scale of ‘morphodynamic turbulence’ in the system (Jerolmack and Paola, 2010). When signal frequency is shorter than the turn- over induced by turbulence, the signal is lost. This framework can also help explain why some events and/or systems can faithfully record responses to large signals 12 E. WOHL ET AL. © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) (Romans et al., 2016). One example appears to be the response of suspended sediment in mountain rivers to large-scale land- slide sediment inputs triggered by earthquakes (Hovius et al., 2011; Wang et al., 2015). Recent work following the 2008 Mw7.9 Wenchuan earthquake shows immediate (hourly time scale) and multi-annual increases in river suspended sediment concentration and sediment flux following the event (Wang et al., 2015). These observations mirror river suspended sedi- ment data following the 1999 Chi-Chi earthquake in Taiwan (Hovius et al., 2011) and records of sand, silt, and mud accu- mulation in lakes fed by catchments draining the Alpine Fault in New Zealand over the last ~1000 years (Howarth et al., 2012). These steep mountain catchments have elements of structural connectivity that can greatly enhance the transfer of landslide sediment to river channels (Li et al., 2016). In addi- tion, the erosion and transfer of suspended sediment viewed from the framework of Jerolmack and Paola (2010) may be con- sidered as the morphodynamic equivalent of laminar flows; i.e. the nonlinear responses may be less important. Clearly, the in- ternal operation of sediment transport systems needs to be con- sidered when examining records in the context of understanding connectivity. Choice of metric will also heavily influence the signature. Above, we used the example of sediment output at a point, but other metrics commonly used include slope–area products and hypsometric curves (Sternai et al., 2011; Hancock et al., 2016). Although these provide useful overall indicators of dif- ferent landscape shapes or form, such metrics can be relatively insensitive to alterations and changes in the landscape that are highly apparent in a visual comparison. For example, Hancock et al. (2016) show how simulated landscapes with very different drainage networks and forms have very similar landscape sta- tistics. Furthermore, landscapes and sedimentary records are palimpsest in that they can be erased and re-written. Therefore, a record of past changes, and indeed a whole landscape, may be incomplete as an indicator of what has driven its final form. All the above issues are likely to be affected by the scale of study. For example, simple first-order streams, with limited de- grees of freedom to store sediment and then allow this sediment to be re-mobilized, may respond more linearly to forcing than larger second-, third- or higher-order streams (Trimble, 2013). Here, larger expanses of, for example, floodplain may absorb any stratigraphic change that represents a signature of connectiv- ity or generate false signals through autogenic processes. Tempo- rally, this also affects what type of signature we are looking for. A tectonic signal operating over a long time scale may override the autogenic processes and other factors, muddying or masking the signal. But these processes and factors may be very important when looking for the connectivity signature from a large event (Goodbred, 2003; Jain and Tandon, 2010). Continual deposition has the potential to serve as an indica- tor of connectivity, but only at the temporal and spatial scale of the deposit. The depositional record of a limited area does not indicate how far up channel or gradient the connectivity may have extended into the transport and erosional zones, although sediment fingerprinting (Walling et al., 1999) can be used to in- fer the extent of longitudinal connectivity. Because of thresh- olds and complex response, however, a lack of uniformity does not necessarily indicate disconnectivity except at the smallest time scales of depositional processes. Examples in- clude autogenic rhythmites at time scales of 1 to 100 s; slip- face bedding planes at hourly to weekly time scales; and re- peating sequences resulting from complex basin response at annual to centennial time scales (Schumm, 1981). In all these cases, the flux driving the deposition could be described as dis- connected at time scales smaller than the signal frequency, but connected at greater time scales. Uniformity and cyclicity can thus be considered indicators of connectivity within the lateral extent of a deposit over the rele- vant time scale, but their absence does not preclude connectiv- ity. A reach in steady-state equilibrium, which is passing the exact amount of sediment received, is certainly well con- nected, but it will leave no trace of its role as a connecting part of the landscape. A basin may receive a particular sequence of sediments from its connected source areas, but the lack of re- peating cycles does not necessarily negate its connectivity. Thus, a depositional approach to identifying connectivity is limited to the spatial extent of the deposit or to the linkages that can be inferred from sediment characteristics via techniques such as sediment fingerprinting. Similarly, nothing can be said with certainty about connectivity below the temporal resolu- tion of the stratigraphy. If a daily pulse of sediment slowly builds a delta, then the system would be disconnected at some time scale shorter than a day, but connected at any scales lon- ger than a day. The bedding resolution is the temporal dividing line. Viewed in the opposite sense, if connectivity is a critical filter in the interpretation of upstream forcing (e.g. climate), in- ferring changes in that forcing without considering connectivity may be incorrect (Lane et al., 2017). In summary, issues around spatial and temporal scale of measurements or depositional records, as well as the existence of equifinality and nonlinearity in geomorphic systems, pose fundamental challenges to identifying connectivity. Conse- quently, the methods used to identify connectivity vary sub- stantially among studies in relation to the specific aspects of connectivity under consideration (Table III). This is unlikely to change in the future. Most of the methods listed in Table III are based on inferred connectivity as reflected in landscape changes through time or as simulated using numerical models calibrated against datasets that span limited time and space scales. Although the list in Table III is not exhaustive, the rela- tive proportions of methods relying on direct measurements of fluxes versus inferred fluxes represent the proportions of these approaches in the geomorphic literature. Measuring connectivity Another basic challenge of a conceptual framework designed around connectivity is to quantify fluxes that reflect connectiv- ity. Although connectivity provides a powerful conceptual framework for understanding geomorphic systems, there is cur- rently a lack of consensus on how to measure and to compare connectivity quantitatively across temporal and spatial scales and between geomorphic systems (Bracken et al., 2013; Wohl, 2017; Table I). This may be unavoidable given the issues discussed above that arise from the interest in diverse aspects of connectivity. At some level, however, the lack of consensus on connectivity metrics gives rise to many challenging ques- tions we are currently unable to answer quantitatively. Exam- ples include questions of broad scope: is there a spatial scale at which landscape connectivity is most sensitive to human in- fluences (Vanacker et al., 2005)?; where and when is restoring connectivity an appropriate strategy (Kondolf et al., 2006)? or, under what conditions are Eulerian versus Lagrangian frame- works more appropriate to developing insights into a particular geomorphic system (Doyle and Ensign, 2009)? Examples of more specific questions include: are deltas inherently more connected than dendritic drainage networks (Passalacqua, 2017)?; or can factors that determine thresholds governing lon- gitudinal connectivity of mobile large wood in a river network be quantitatively predicted (Kramer and Wohl, 2017)? Al- though many studies have quantified connectivity, most have used approaches developed for the specific question at hand 13GEOMORPHIC CONNECTIVITY © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) (Bracken et al., 2013, 2015; Wohl, 2017). Few studies have sought to develop connectivity metrics that are intended to be general and widely applicable. In this section, we review the wide variety of published methods for quantifying connectivity in geomorphic systems, and explore the opportunities and challenges for developing a general approach to measuring this elusive but vital attribute of landscapes. Many questions arise in considering how best to measure con- nectivity, starting with whether connectivity is the state of a geo- morphic system (structural connectivity) or a measurable flux (process connectivity)? Is it possible to quantify the essential as- pects of connectivity in a single general metric, or are the domi- nant controls and manifestations of connectivity so varied that site-specific or process-specific metrics will always be needed (Blue and Brierley, 2016)? Are structural connectivity and func- tional connectivity more or less amenable to a standardized mea- surement approach? How sensitive are connectivity metrics to the methods and tools of data collection and the temporal and spatial scales of analysis? Should connectivity be measured di- rectly or is it sufficient to quantify it indirectly, by measuring the factors that influence connectivity or its effects on landforms and material fluxes? Do we need a suite of metrics that can cap- ture the cause and effect relationships among the drivers, attri- butes, and effects of connectivity? Can we as geomorphologists effectively forecast how connectivity relationships will alter geo- morphic forms, processes, and fluxes brought about by climate and land use change? To address these questions, we begin by considering previously published connectivity metrics within a Table III. Examples of methods used to identify signatures of geomorphic connectivity Description Sample references Measured fluxes Used 40 years of erosion-pin data, along with sediment trap data and sequential aerial photos and floodplain surveys to measure and infer sediment fluxes from hillslopes to pediments, floodplains, and channels Godfrey et al., 2008 Measured precipitation, riparian water table, and stream flow and used these data as input to model hydrological connectivity Jencso et al., 2009 Used arrays of electrical resistance sensors to quantify longitudinal connectivity of flow through time in drylands rivers Jaeger and Olden, 2012 Used piezometers and subsurface samplers to measure vertical hydraulic gradients and specific discharge as indices of vertical hydrological connectivity between a channel and hyporheic zone Wainwright et al., 2011 Inferred fluxes Catchment-scale sediment flow diagrams that identify spatial variability in patterns of sediment inputs, outputs, and storage based on direct measurements or, more commonly, spatial configuration of landscape units and relative volumes of stored sediment Trimble, 1983; Fryirs et al., 2007 Visual or morphologic assessments of characteristics (size, spatial distribution, function) of landscape units in relation to facilitating or retarding sediment connectivity Brierley et al., 2006 Modeled the delivery of landslide-generated sediment to channel networks; sediment generation from hillslopes and channel banks and its delivery to the channel network modeled using a modified form of SHALSTAB coupled to a network index version of TOPMODEL Reid et al., 2007 Because alkalinity of stream waters reflects relative influence of groundwater and unsaturated zone runoff, used alkalinity as index of hydrologic connectivity at catchment scale Tetzlaff et al., 2007 Used 1D hydrological modeling to infer hydrological connectivity among lakes and channels in the Danube River delta Coops et al., 2008 Used in situ water level and MODIS satellite data to relate mainstem river level fluctuations to delta inundation on Canada’s Peace-Athabasca delta; temporal covariance between the two datasets allows inference of hydrologic connectivity processes, as well as inundation extent Pavelsky and Smith, 2008 Used diatom sedimentary assemblages to discriminate between three categories of delta lakes with differing types of hydrological connectivity to the Slave River of Canada Sokal et al., 2008 Simulated runoff and sediment dynamics at the catchment scale with a dynamic landscape evolution model that can simulate erosion and sedimentation based on a limited number of input parameters Lesschen et al., 2009 Assessed hydrologic connectivity of the Mackenzie River and lakes on its delta from duration of ‘connection time’ based on elevation of sill height for a lake and daily river water levels from stream gage records Tank et al., 2009 Visual evaluation of location of sediment sources, degree of coupling to stream network, channel morphology, and magnitude of erosion and deposition following a rainstorm Cavalli et al., 2013 Used 2D simulation and river corridor topography to numerically model flood inundation extent for varying discharges and from this inferred lateral connectivity between channel and floodplain Croke et al., 2013 Field observations of surface-flow connectivity combined with topography of river corridor to infer relative degrees of hydrological connectivity among active channel and abandoned channel water bodies on the floodplain Phillips, 2013 Numerically simulated coarse sediment transport via diverse geomorphic processes (rockfall, debris flows, slope wash, fluvial transport) and used these data in graph-based network analysis Heckmann and Schwanghart, 2013 Data from ground surveys used with digital terrain model differencing techniques and morphological sediment budgets to infer sediment connectivity Wester et al., 2014 Measured rates of channel migration from sequential aerial photos used to identify locations of enhanced geomorphic change, which is inferred to reflect spatial variation in sand transport Czuba and Foufoula- Georgiou, 2015 Used archival digital photogrammetry to reconstruct history of topographic change and inferred sediment fluxes in a catchment Micheletti et al., 2015 Represented sediment transport from each source in a watershed as a suite of individual cascading processes that are incorporated into an integrated modeling framework of sediment cascades that is used to infer patterns of connectivity and locations of disconnectivity Schmitt et al., 2016 14 E. WOHL ET AL. © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) cause and effect framework, according to whether they provide a direct measure of connectivity or indirectly quantify the effects or the causes of connectivity. Most studies of connectivity are motivated primarily by under- standing how connectivity affects specific aspects of landscape dynamics, such as the movement of sediment between hillslopes and channels or through a stream network (Fryirs and Brierley, 2001; Fryirs, 2013; Bracken et al., 2015; Gran and Czuba, 2017; Lane et al., 2017). Hence, a straightforward approach is to quantify fluxes directly and to use those measurements to infer the degree of connectivity in the transport system, which repre- sents a Eulerian approach. This can be done at a single point such as a catchment outlet or at many locations distributed through the system. Sediment transport processes, for example, are measured using erosion plots for small-scale measurements of sediment flux (Cerdà and García-Fayos, 1997; Wainwright et al., 2000; Boix- Fayos et al., 2006) or suspended sediment sampling methods and/or bedload traps in streams and rivers for larger-scale mea- surements (Garcia et al., 2000; Bunte and Abt, 2005). In geomor- phic connectivity research, functional connectivity is commonly inferred from measured water and sediment fluxes, either on the plot scale (Turnbull et al., 2010; Wainwright et al., 2011; Puttock et al., 2013) or on the catchment scale (Duvert et al., 2011; Lane et al., 2017). Sediment tracers have been increasingly utilized to quantify erosion and deposition of sediments and to derive struc- tural and functional connectivity of geomorphic systems (D’Haen et al., 2013; Fryirs and Gore, 2013; Koiter et al., 2013), which represents more of a Lagrangian approach. The sediment delivery ratio (SDR) is one of the most widely- used indirect metrics of the effects of connectivity measured at a point along the boundary of the system (Walling, 1983; Brierley et al., 2006; Fryirs, 2013; Baartman et al., 2013). The SDR quantifies the fraction of mass eroded within an upstream catchment that is transported past the catchment outlet. The SDR varies between 0 and 1, thus providing an integrated, non-dimensional measure of the degree of connectivity of sed- iment sources and transport pathways within the catchment. Other studies that use output fluxes to infer upstream connec- tivity include Ali and Roy (2010), which measures stream dis- charge and infers connectivity of zones of high soil moisture, and recent work on deltaic systems which quantifies the hydro- logical connectivity of channels and interdistributary islands (Larsen et al., 2012; Hiatt and Passalacqua, 2015, 2017), and relates sediment output from delta distributary channels to up- stream connectivity between geomorphic elements of the delta system (Liang et al., 2016c; Passalacqua, 2017). In contrast to quantifying the bulk system output at a single point in space, metrics for the local effects of connectivity at many locations across the landscape are inherently more com- plex. This approach relies on a conceptual model of the inter- nal dynamics of the system that facilitates identifying which sub-systems to measure and the scale and density of measure- ments. Numerical models can overcome this challenge by predicting outcomes for every point in the landscape. Modeling approaches include cellular automata (Baartman et al., 2013; Masselink et al., 2016a; Coulthard and Van De Wiel, 2017), process-based modeling (Mueller et al., 2007), statistical models (Poeppl et al., 2012), and GIS approaches based on net- work theory (Lane et al., 2009; Heckmann and Schwanghart, 2013; Masselink et al., 2016b). For example, Coulthard and Van de Wiel (2017) model changes in sediment fluxes due to the cascading impacts of land use change, and infer landscape connectivity across large distances and in both upstream and downstream directions. Czuba and Foufoula-Georgiou (2015) and Gran and Czuba (2017) use a model of sand transport through a natural channel network to indirectly quantify local connectivity by defining a cluster persistence index (CPI). The CPI is calculated from the time integral of sand mass passing a point in the network and identifies locations where discrete packets of sand coalesce and disperse due to longitudinal var- iations in transport connectivity. Examples of field-based stud- ies that measure the local outcomes of connectivity include: Vanacker et al. (2005), which infers changes in water and sed- iment connectivity from measured changes in channel geome- try and grain size; Croke et al. (2013) and Thompson et al. (2016), which use the measured and modeled extent of flood- plain inundation during an extreme flood to infer connectivity between channel and floodplain; and Wester et al. (2014), which measures topographic elevation changes over time in gullies following wildfire to document spatial variation in sedi- ment transport and deposition and infer patterns of local trans- port connectivity. Connectivity in geomorphic systems has also been indirectly quantified through measurements of the key drivers that pro- mote or inhibit connections in natural and human-disturbed landscapes (Bracken and Croke, 2007; Poeppl et al., 2017). For example, Borselli et al. (2008) develop a connectivity index (IC) that expresses the relative sediment transport efficiency up- stream and downstream of any point in the landscape, using to- pographic attributes such as drainage area, mean slope, and travel distance between elements. Cavalli et al. (2013) adapt the IC for use in mountainous catchments by including the ef- fect of topographic roughness in reducing connectivity. This spatial index has been able to reconcile temporal variability in sediment export from partly glaciated basins (Micheletti and Lane, 2016). Measures of land surface roughness extracted from DEMs have been used in other studies of landscape disconnectivity, including Baartman et al. (2013), which de- fines a topographic Complexity Index based on local relief and slope variation, and Lane et al. (2017), which uses pit- filling and flow-routing algorithms to assess the impact of roughness on sediment throughput. In geomorphic terms, this latter study seeks to avoid the limitations of the common hydro- logical approach to noise in topographic data that leads to arti- ficial pits, or sites of disconnection. Many hydrological analyses of routing begin by filling pits such that flow continu- ity can be achieved. In hydrology, but particularly in geomor- phology, problems can arise with doing this when real pits, sites of reduced connectivity or disconnection, are eliminated by such algorithms. Other studies that quantify geomorphic drivers of connectivity include: Rice (2017), which uses drain- age area, Strahler order and other catchment attributes to pre- dict the relative disconnectivity of tributary junctions; Cadol and Wine (2017), which infers differential connectivity be- tween streams and riparian vegetation in various geomorphic settings defined by measurements of valley width, topographic curvature and slope; and May et al. (2017), which describes re- duced coupling between hillslopes and channels due to wider valley bottoms and gentler hillslope gradients in catchments upstream of bedrock-controlled waterfalls. IC are static repre- sentations of connectivity that can be very useful for determin- ing areas of high and low structural connectivity within a geomorphic system under study (Nicoll and Brierley, 2017). The connectivity of a geomorphic system can also be explic- itly quantified using analytical techniques originally developed in other fields, such as network theory (Newman, 2006) and studies of percolation (Grimmett, 1989). The system must first be represented as a network composed of source or storage el- ements (nodes) that are connected by pathways of potential transport (links). Nodes can be pixels or other polygons in a continuous representation of a landscape, or one- to three- dimensional elements in a graphical representation of the net- work structure. Links can be formed uniformly with adjacent el- ements or specified in terms of network structure and other 15GEOMORPHIC CONNECTIVITY © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) factors representing distance, direction, transport thresholds and transport efficiency. Once the system is defined spatially and dynamically, connectivity can be quantified using a variety of statistics that measure the central tendency or variability of connections between network elements. For example, Western et al. (2001) characterize the degree of hillslope hydrologic connectivity by defining the integral connectivity scale length (ICSL), which represents the average distance separating hill- slope elements that are connected by a continuous downslope path of elements with soil moisture above a threshold value. As networks grow in size and complexity, matrices are needed for network connectivity and flow computation. David et al. (2011) provides an example, using a matrix-based version of the traditional Muskingum method of flow routing, to develop a river network model in which lateral inflow to a river network is calculated by a land-surface model and flow in all reaches of a river network is calculated using the routing equation. The mathematical model of a network is the graph. Graph the- ory, which is the study of graphs, has been applied to geomorphic systems (Haggett and Chorley, 1969; Phillips, 2012; Heckmann and Schwanghart, 2013; Marra et al., 2013; Tejedor et al., 2015) as a means of characterizing network structure and fluxes within networks, as well as simulating propagation of system changes through networks (Heckmann and Schwanghart, 2013). A graph can be formally described as G = (N, E), in which N indicates nodes and E indicates edges. A graph is represented using an adjacency matrix, which is a square matrix with as many rows and columns as there are nodes in G. Such a matrix can pro- vide a mathematic framework for exploring functional connectiv- ity by analyzing nodes, edges, and paths (Heckmann and Schwanghart, 2013). Kupfer et al. (2014) apply network-based graph theory to model spatial and temporal changes in lateral connectivity of a large floodplain under different flood recurrence scenarios. Meitzen and Kupfer (2015) apply this same model to examine how connectivity influences abandoned channel infilling and vegetation development patterns. Tejedor et al. (2015) use spectral graph theory to develop a quantitative frame- work for channel network connectivity on deltas. Building on studies of neural networks in the human brain, Passalacqua (2017) uses an adjacency matrix to quantify the interactions be- tween channel, levee, and island components of a delta. This ap- proach permits an integrated evaluation of structural configuration and functional connectivity. Cote et al. (2009) develops another direct metric of network connectivity to quantify the impact of barriers to fish migration at the catchment scale. Cote et al. (2009) defines the Dendritic Connectivity Index (DCI) based on summing the length of stream reaches linked by passable potential barriers, normal- ized by the total length of the stream network, which represents the probability that an organism is able to move between any two points within the network. Grill et al. (2014) builds on this work by defining a River Connectivity Index (RCI) that con- siders other reach attributes such as volume, habitat classifica- tion, and usability by a given species. The preceding review illustrates the wide variety of metrics developed to quantify connectivity, both directly using tech- niques from network analysis and indirectly through measure- ments of fluxes and other outcomes of connectivity, and the topographic and other factors that drive variations in connec- tivity. Structural connectivity/configuration is captured most ex- plicitly in the direct quantification of network properties, but is also implicit in many of the metrics that quantify the drivers of connectivity. On the other hand, metrics based on measuring the outcomes of connectivity primarily quantify functional con- nectivity. Studies that compare metrics representing different types of connectivity have the potential to quantify the cause and effect relationships at the heart of geomorphic connectivity. For example, Baartman et al. (2013) shows that Sediment De- livery Ratio, in natural and modeled catchments, declines sys- tematically with increasing Complexity Index, thus linking structural drivers of connectivity with functional outcomes. Similarly, Beckman and Wohl (2014) show that variations in carbon content in fine sediment deposits, a proxy for sediment residence time and functional disconnectivity, correlate with boundary conditions including valley morphology, log jam spacing, and forest stand age. They also show that increased connectivity, through destruction of wood jams, leads to reduc- tions in sediment deposition and channel roughness, which in turn inhibits the trapping of mobile wood that might otherwise anchor new wood jams. Thus, by linking the causes and effects of (dis) connectivity, Beckman and Wohl (2014) illustrate how feedback loops, with the potential to form multiple alternative states, can arise in connectivity dynamics. A key question that arises when quantifying connectivity is: compared with what? In any given geomorphic system, is there a maximum or optimum level of connectivity to compare with? Non-dimensional connectivity metrics have the potential to quantify connectivity relative to a reference value. A simple ex- ample is the Sediment Delivery Ratio (Walling, 1983), which at its maximum value of 1.0 implies complete connectivity, albeit without directly quantifying any of the upstream connections or considering the time scale over which connectivity is operat- ing. A more spatially explicit non-dimensional metric is the hy- drologic connectivity parameter Tau (h) of Western et al. (2001), which is integrated to calculate the integral connectiv- ity scale length (ICSL) described above. Tau (h) represents the probability that any two pixels separated by a distance h are connected by a continuous path of pixels with soil moisture above a threshold value, and thus varies between 0 and 1. Sev- eral other connectivity metrics are composed of dimensionless ratios that vary between 0 and 1, including the Dendritic and River Connectivity Indices (Cote et al., 2009; Grill et al., 2014) and the Complexity Index (Baartman et al., 2013). These dimensionless metrics are normalized by the maximum values for the local catchment, making them useful for quantifying the effect of changes within the catchment, such as dam construc- tion, but less useful for comparisons between catchments or other geomorphic systems. Perhaps the most significant challenge in quantifying con- nectivity is the issue of scale. The frequency and efficiency of connections within any geomorphic system vary systematically with the temporal and spatial scale of analysis. Hence the mea- sures of connectivity produced by any robust metric should also vary with scale. Because most transport processes are in- termittent, connectivity should increase when measured over longer characteristic time scales (McGuire and McDonnell, 2010; Bracken et al., 2013, 2015). Conversely, because move- ment of material occurs over finite distances in any given trans- port event, measured values of connectivity should decrease as spatial scale increases (Western et al., 2001; McGuire and McDonnell, 2010; Bracken et al., 2013, 2015). One approach is to determine the fundamental temporal and spatial scales for the phenomenon of interest and to make mea- surements at a sufficiently large multiple of the fundamental scales to capture reliably a representative sample of transport events. If landslides are a key component of sediment connec- tivity within a drainage basin, for example, measuring sediment connectivity across a timespan that includes more than one landslide and intervening periods with other modes of sedi- ment delivery is important (Reid et al., 2007; Cavalli et al., 2013; Dethier et al., 2016). Similarly, measurements of longitu- dinal hydrologic connectivity within a river during floods should incorporate a time scale that includes multiple floods (Jaeger and Olden, 2012). 16 E. WOHL ET AL. © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) Another approach seeks to characterize how connectivity varies with scale, by applying the same metric over a wide range of temporal and spatial scales. Western et al. (2001) pro- vides an example based on multiple soil moisture datasets. Al- ternatively, statistical measures that characterize the frequency distributions of connectivity across scales can be used, as Ali and Roy (2010) did for soil moisture and stormflow in a humid temperate forested catchment or Sendrowski and Passalacqua (2017) did for hydrological processes on a delta influenced by river discharge, tides, and wind. Ultimately, the tools and methods available to collect the rel- evant data will constrain the scales at which connectivity can be analyzed. Technological advances such as terrestrial lidar, structure-from-motion photogrammetry, wireless sensor net- works, and new techniques for tracing and tracking sediment fluxes create opportunities to expand the range of scales over which connectivity can be quantified (Cavalli et al., 2013; Fonstad et al., 2013; Smith and Vericat, 2015). Several key ideas for future directions in measuring connec- tivity emerge from this discussion. First is the recognition that distinct metrics are probably needed to characterize structural configuration and functional connectivity and that no single overarching metric for connectivity is likely to emerge. Second, it will be fruitful to explore combinations of metrics that can represent the cause and effect relationships that link the drivers, structures, and outcomes of geomorphic connectivity and give rise to feedbacks and emergent system behavior. Third, non- dimensional measures that characterize connectivity relative to meaningful reference values are needed to compare connec- tivity across scales and between systems. Finally, quantifying how connectivity varies with temporal and spatial scales of analysis will both inform future study designs and provide in- sight into the nature of connectivity in diverse geomorphic sys- tems. A single metric that represents all aspects of connectivity is unlikely, but meaningful progress can be made in the ab- sence of such a universal metric. Using connectivity Identifying and measuring connectivity provides a useful ap- proach in basic and applied geomorphic research (Wohl, 2017). An explicit focus on connectivity can facilitate identifi- cation of spatial and temporal disparities in material fluxes within geomorphic systems, for example, as well as enhancing understanding of mechanisms of retention of materials within a particular system or component of a system. Characterizing connectivity can provide insight into the response of geomor- phic systems to disturbance, the nonlinear behavior that may result from those disturbances, and the resistance or resilience of the system to disturbances. Explicit attention to connectivity can also promote transdisciplinary approaches to understand- ing and communicating geomorphic process and form. Effective approaches to the management of landscape connectivity in river basins In this section, we explore the implications of connectivity for management of rivers. The implications discussed here also ap- ply to other geomorphic environments, but rivers are particu- larly the target of environmental management, including restoration and rehabilitation, and a more extensive literature addresses management of rivers relative to management of other geomorphic systems. Effective river management programs seek to attain the best achievable state for a healthy and responsive river under prevailing and future conditions. Geomorphically informed river management practices incorporate flexibility and future variability in the design and implementation of management practices through articulation of open-ended and dynamic goals (Downs and Gregory, 2004; Brierley and Hooke, 2015; Brierley and Fryirs, 2016). Such planning and design exercises recognize that what has gone before influences our capacity to manage and modify rivers, but altered boundary conditions and evolutionary trajectories constrain the best achievable state and functionality that can be attained under prevailing and likely future conditions. This entails working with river morphodynamics at the reach scale, framed in relation to catchment-scale sediment and other fluxes. Landscape con- nectivity exerts a critical influence upon these relationships. Understanding connectivity in relation to the morphodynamics of rivers is critical for making informed deci- sions in river management practice. Essentially, such understand- ing is concerned with the management of fluxes. In an era where forecasting river responses to a range of natural and human dis- turbances is critical to management and planning, understanding connectivity provides a core foundation from which to work. Forecasting where disturbance is likely to be manifest and the ex- tent to which on-site and off-site impacts will result is critical to risk assessment and planning. Forecasting flood hazards requires an understanding of hydrological connectivity. Managing sedi- ment hazards and legacy sediments requires an understanding of not only sediment sources, transport and deposition, but also the extent to which a catchment contains blockages or pathways of conveyance (James, 2010; Wohl, 2015). Managing contami- nants or the spread of exotic flora and fauna requires that the dis- persal pathways provided by rivers and floodplains are well understood (Haycock and Burt, 1993; Coulthard and Macklin, 2003). The connectivity among the component parts of the sys- tem and the manner in which these parts fit together set the tem- plate of the dynamic physical habitat mosaic in a river corridor. Concerns for the sediment regime of a river take account of the nature and rate of sediment generation in a particular land- scape setting, and controls upon the effectiveness of erosion and transport mechanisms that move materials through river systems (Benda et al., 2004; Czuba and Foufoula-Georgiou, 2014, 2015; Wohl et al., 2015a; Schmitt et al., 2016). In the de- velopment and implementation of catchment-scale river man- agement plans (Sear et al., 1995; Gilvear, 1999; Brierley and Fryirs, 2009; Toone et al., 2014; Wohl et al., 2015a, 2015b), reach-scale sensitivity and catchment-scale connectivity are key considerations in determining river recovery potential and the range of potential trajectories of geomorphic river adjust- ment (Brierley and Fryirs, 2005; Fryirs, 2013, 2017). Connectiv- ity relationships exert a primary control upon the efficiency with which disturbance responses are mediated through catch- ments, and associated lag times. This may present significant constraints upon what is achievable in managing sediment flux relationships in any given catchment. The (ir) reversibility of geomorphic adjustments to river type, and appraisals of sedi- ment flux at the catchment scale, are important considerations in assessment of likely trajectories of adjustment (Wohl, 2011; Fryirs et al., 2012; Grabowski et al., 2014; Scorpio et al., 2015; Brierley and Fryirs, 2016; Ziliani and Surian, 2016). These insights support the derivation of moving targets for man- agement programs (Brierley and Fryirs, 2016) and help to en- sure that management actions are appropriate for a particular site (Brierley and Fryirs, 2009). Analysis of geomorphic river recovery appraises how a river has adjusted in the past and what the river is adjusting toward. The potential for river recovery following disturbance reflects a river’s inherent sensitivity to change and the severity of impacts to which the system is or has been subject (Hooke, 2015; Fryirs, 17GEOMORPHIC CONNECTIVITY © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) 2017). Multiple potential trajectories can emerge, dependent on the condition of a reach, likely responses to disturbances, prevail- ing, system-specific driving factors and time lags, and how con- nectivity relationships mediate these processes and shape the evolutionary trajectories adopted (Phillips, 2007; Fryirs et al., 2009; Standish et al., 2014; Phillips and Van Dyke, 2016). Assessing river recovery requires that the history, pathway, and rate of adjustment of each reach in the catchment of inter- est is known (Kondolf and Larsen, 1995; Surian et al., 2009b; Wohl, 2011; Fryirs et al., 2012; Fryirs and Brierley, 2012, 2016; Grabowski et al., 2014; Rathburn et al., 2013, 2018). Analysis of each reach in its catchment connectivity context provides a basis to evaluate the impact of pressures and limiting factors that may inhibit or enhance river recovery on the likely future trajectories of adjustment (Brierley and Fryirs, 2005, 2009; Ziliani and Surian, 2012, 2016; Standish et al., 2014; Scorpio et al., 2015; Fryirs and Brierley, 2016). When applied effectively, catalytic management activities in certain parts of catchments may trigger recovery processes that can accelerate recovery elsewhere. Appraisals of additional, off-site impacts require that the connectivity dynamics of the system are under- stood. Alternatively, analysis of connectivity relationship is re- quired to identify where certain measures may have negative off-site impacts that will damage the recovery process. This helps in choosing passive versus active restoration measures; where in a catchment activities are likely to be most successful; and the scale and form of intervention that is required (Lane et al., 2008; Fryirs and Brierley, 2016). In some instances, con- nectivity relationships can be used to guide management that maintains the fully functional portions of a catchment. As an example, Lane et al. (2008) show how in an upland river basin, native woodland planting focused on well-connected tribu- taries could reduce coarse sediment supply rates as an alterna- tive to downstream sediment dredging and engineering. Understanding catchment-scale, spatial and temporal sediment and hydrological connectivity provides foundational knowl- edge with which to forecast river recovery potential and deter- mine what is realistically achievable at the reach scale. The availability of sediment for river recovery, and hence the timeframe of recovery, may vary markedly from catchment to catchment dependent on the connectivity dynamics of that catchment. Assessment of river recovery potential allows man- agers to assess in which reaches sediment should be retained and stored for river recovery, and where sediments can be re- leased (Fryirs and Brierley, 2001). It is important to ensure that there is neither too much nor too little sediment to facilitate river recovery (Kondolf, 1998; Brooks and Brierley, 2004; Florsheim et al., 2006; Jacobson et al., 2009; Smith et al., 2011; Fryirs and Brierley, 2016). Conceptual models can be used to communicate stages and timeframes of geomorphic ad- justment (Simon, 1989; Brierley and Fryirs, 2005; Fryirs et al., 2012; Stella et al., 2013; Cluer and Thorne, 2014; Fryirs and Brierley, 2016; Phillips and Van Dyke, 2016). These insights can be used to assess whether geomorphic adjustments are likely to be reversible, considering how channel boundary con- ditions, flow and sediment inputs, and connectivity relation- ships have changed over time. Process-based modeling applications can be used to quantify timeframes of adjustment, using confidence limits to express potential uncertainties in fu- ture forecasts (Smith et al., 2011; Small and Doyle, 2012; Ziliani and Surian, 2016). Given differences in landscape connectivity relationships in differing environmental and landscape settings, there is pro- found variability in the ways and rates with which responses to disturbances that disrupt the sediment regime are mediated through a catchment (Fryirs et al., 2007a, 2007b; Lane et al., 2008; Surian et al., 2009a, 2009b; Kuo and Brierley, 2013, 2014; Lisenby and Fryirs, 2017a, 2017b). Fryirs et al. (2009) re- fer to this as a response gradient. Highly connected systems rapidly convey disturbance responses through the system, whereas responses to disturbances in disconnected landscapes may be absorbed within certain parts of the system (Harvey, 2002; Hooke, 2003; Fryirs et al., 2007a, 2007b, 2009; Jain and Tandon, 2010; Fryirs, 2013). Catchment-scale conceptual models of process interactions, connectivity and evolutionary traits provide a basis to predict responses to management interventions (Mika et al., 2010). Analysis of threatening processes helps to identify and prioritize what forms of management intervention are required in what parts of the system (Brierley and Fryirs, 2005, 2009, 2016; Czuba and Foufoula-Georgiou, 2014; Fryirs and Brierley, 2016; Ziliani and Surian, 2016). Such efforts seek to maximize cumulative benefits while minimizing off-site impacts of inter- ventions (Schmidt et al., 1998). Catchment-framed analysis of connectivity provides the basis for answering questions such as: • Where should we prioritize our efforts to enhance the recov- ery of systems? • Will a treatment reach experience degrading or positive in- fluences from upstream (e.g. sediment slugs, headcuts)? • From where will the sediment be sourced and dispersed to enhance river recovery in the study reach? Is enhancing sed- iment connectivity required? • Where should sediment conveyance be suppressed to pro- tect other reaches and minimize off-site impacts? Is enhanc- ing sediment disconnectivity required? • How will rehabilitation of the treatment reach affect down- stream reaches? These questions can be answered using conceptual models, qualitative evaluations, numerical simulations, and quantita- tive metrics: the key point is to characterize levels of connectiv- ity, the processes and forms that promote or retard connectivity, and the response of the geomorphic system to changes in con- nectivity. Answers to these questions can be used in a range of management situations, including dam construction, removal, and modification of operating regime; incursions of exotic veg- etation; mining activities; land use and land cover changes; post-fire treatment priorities (Figure 4); channelized reaches that flush sediments; and inferring whether sediment slugs en- hance or inhibit downstream conveyance. Six general points that may assist efforts to manage landscape connectivity in rela- tion to concerns for sediment regime are outlined in Table IV. The most effective technique (s) for addressing each point are likely to be site-specific. Ultimately, river basin management can focus on specific processes and fluxes without regard to connectivity, but measuring and conceptualizing process and flux in a connectivity framework facilitates an understanding of how basin configuration and fluxes of material respond to varying inputs through time and across space. Connectivity, flow regulation and river–floodplain infrastructure Connectivity is fundamental to management plans for river restoration/rehabilitation both as a goal and as a process. Be- cause dams, water diversions, and other infrastructure such as weirs and check dams fragment waterways, their ubiquitous global presence has had a profound effect on hydrologic, sedi- mentological, and ecological connectivity (Junk et al., 1989; Nilsson et al., 2005), both within the channel and across the broader riparian zone longitudinally, laterally, and vertically 18 E. WOHL ET AL. © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) (Kondolf et al., 2006). To combat some of these effects, river managers, scientists, and non-governmental organizations have argued for management plans to ameliorate the effects of impoundment on watershed connectivity. In some instances, dam removal has been the preferred option as it provides the more robust opportunity for re-establishing sediment and hy- drologic connectivity (Grant and Lewis, 2015; Foley et al., 2017; Major et al., 2017) while also having immediate impacts ecologically by permitting fish passage (Kornis et al., 2014; Pess et al., 2014; Magilligan et al., 2016a) or by providing the necessary sedimentological conditions for enhancing spawning habitat (Magilligan et al., 2016b). In instances where removal is not an option, watershed managers have advocated for envi- ronmental flows (Bunn and Arthington, 2002; Arthington et al., 2006) to best mimic the natural flow regime (Poff et al., 1997) with the goal of re-establishing greater hydrologic con- nectivity especially across the riparian zone to maintain flood- plain forest communities (Rood et al., 2005) or to generate longitudinal and lateral sediment connectivity and bar forma- tion (Schmidt et al., 2001; Topping et al., 2005). However, the Figure 4. Schematic illustration of sediment connectivity and disconnectivity influences on post-fire treatment priorities based on observations from the South Fork Cache la Poudre watershed in northern Colorado, USA. TP1–TP4 indicate sub-basins with highest (TP1) to lowest (TP4) treatment pri- ority based on sediment connectivity. Basins in which tributary alluvial fans limit sediment connectivity to the mainstem represent lower priorities for post-fire treatments designed to limit sediment yield, such as mulching. TP1 has the highest priority because the confined mainstem valley enhances transport of sediment delivered from the sub-basin, whereas the presence of a floodplain along the mainstem at the junction of TP2 may limit down- stream sediment fluxes. (From Rathburn et al., 2018, Figure 11.). [Colour figure can be viewed at wileyonlinelibrary.com] Table IV. Aspects of landscape connectivity important in managing sediment regime Identify expectations and realistic targets: The key issue in managing landscape connectivity is determination of ‘what are we measuring against’ (i.e. what is expected in any given system)? Recognizing explicitly that human disturbance has modified natural process linkages in a given catchment, what attributes of the prevailing sediment regime are manageable (i.e. what is realistically possible)? Inevitably, these are context- and catchment- specific situations. Identify relevant components of sediment dynamics: Develop an understanding of forms and rates of sediment generation and patterns of sediment stores and their ease/frequency of reworking in a given system. How have human activities modified natural connectivity relationships in that system? How have these changes impacted upon the evolutionary trajectory of the system and over what timeframe? Is it possible, or desirable, for human activities to manage or reverse these traits? Identify rates of sediment movement and geomorphic recovery: Quantify timeframes of sediment movement through a system as a basis to evaluate whether geomorphic river recovery is possible. This entails analysis of the extent to which human disturbance has modified natural patterns and trends of sediment sources, transfer and deposition (Fryirs and Brierley, 2009). In some cases, rates of movement have been accelerated (e.g. deforestation), elsewhere they have been suppressed (e.g. dams). In some instances, excess sediments are available to be reworked such that aggradation may ensue in downstream reaches (e.g. legacy effects of human impacts such as mining activities or abandoned water mills), elsewhere limited upstream availability of sediment (sediment exhaustion) may inhibit prospects for geomorphic recovery in downstream reaches where channel are over-enlarged (e.g. Fryirs and Brierley, 2001; Hooke, 2003; Brooks and Brierley, 2004). Identify the catchment context: The sediment regime and associated process morphodynamics in any given reach must be viewed in their catchment context, assessing how upstream and downstream reaches influence the reach of interest. Any given reach is subjected to changes in boundary conditions. Most reaches are adjusting to legacy effects (Coulthard and Macklin, 2003; James, 2010; Evrard et al., 2011; Wohl, 2015). Longitudinal connectivity relationships determine the nature, extent and rate with which changes to boundary conditions in one part of a system impact upon morphodynamic interactions elsewhere in that system. Pulses of sediment movement through river systems operate over different time scales and with variable impacts on a reach-by-reach basis. Resulting aggradational–degradational trends exert a key control upon channel adjustments over a range of time scales. Identify the historical range of variability: Caution must be applied in the use of theoretical regime principles to predict rates of sediment movement and associated forms and rates of channel adjustment, as these framings assume continuity and uniformity in sediment inputs. However, sediment inputs vary and we need to know when and how they are likely to change if we are to make these assessments. In light of this issue, analysis of the historical range of variability of a river reach provides a critical basis to inform management applications pertaining to the range of channel sizes and configuration that are appropriate or expected for a given setting (Wohl, 2011; Rathburn et al., 2013; Reid and Brierley, 2015). Identify natural levels of connectivity: If working in a largely disconnected landscape, maintain disconnectivity of longitudinal process in interactions whenever possible. For example, if wetlands associated with discontinuous watercourses are present, these features exert important controls on downstream fluxes and create unique habitats and nutrient storage that are important to preserve (Brierley et al., 1999). 19GEOMORPHIC CONNECTIVITY © 2018 John Wiley & Sons, Ltd. Earth Surf. Process. Landforms, Vol. 44, 4–26 (2019) http://wileyonlinelibrary.com reduction in connectivity associated with changes in water flow is commonly emphasized at the expense of the effects of such infrastructure and water management on sediment and sediment regime (Wohl et al., 2015a; Gabbud and Lane, 2016), which runs the risk of introducing environmental reme- diation that has less than optimal effects. What do we still need to know? Throughout our discussions and literature review, we identify common themes and ideas that merit further research. First, there is increased understanding of the importance of capturing the heterogeneity of landscapes and their connectivity patterns in space and time (Fryirs and Brierley, 2009). With new tech- nologies, such as high-resolution topographic data and ever- increasing model capabilities, we have the information needed to capture geomorphic features and thus connectivity pathways over a wide range of spatial and temporal scales (Passalacqua et al., 2015). These mechanisms of mass and information trans- fer need to be quantified with appropriate metrics. Although bulk measures are helpful and easy to compute, they prevent us from capturing how connectivity patterns may vary spatially and temporally. Quantifying this heterogeneity is particularly important for restoration efforts that work with process and con- nectivity principles (Ward et al., 2001; Kondolf et al., 2006). Several authors have suggested that graph and network the- ory metrics may be helpful tools to analyze connectivity in landscapes (Lane et al., 2009, 2017; Heckmann et al., 2015; Cheung et al., 2016; Gran and Czuba, 2017; Passalacqua, 2017). These tools have proven useful in a variety of disciplines and for the analysis of many complex systems (Newman, 2010). There are obvious applications of these metrics in geo- morphology. When dealing with river networks, for example, channels and tributary junctions are easily identified as links and nodes (Marra et al., 2013; Heckmann et al., 2015). In this case, the natural system essentially maps into the mathematical model, at least in terms of structure. Thinking about network dynamics, however, and thus the fluxes along the system, map- ping into a network mathematical model may not be as obvi- ous. For example, there may be leakages in the system (e.g. due to channel–floodplain connectivity) and these losses will have to be represented in the model, either as a distributed loss along the link or by characterizing the structural configuration (e.g. levee channels) through which this transport may occur and the nonlinearities of fluxes (e.g. stage-dependent lateral connectivity). In addition, the sediment and the nutrient net- works – the collection of links and nodes along which solids and solutes are transported – may not be as continuous as the water transportation network, depending on the time scale of analysis. This may call for other approaches (e.g. the dynamic tree approach of Zaliapin et al., 2010) able to represent mathe- matically the superposition of multiple interacting networks of different spatial structure and temporal dynamics. We have to understand which metrics are most helpful and representative of the physical system and its connectivity path- ways. These metrics are also needed for the validation of nu- merical models. If we can quantify connectivity pathways through a landscape, we can then use those metrics to evaluate similarity of the couplings and transport pathways in numerical results. These validated models can then be used to simulate scenarios of disturbance and change and to predict landscape response in space and time (Liang et al., 2016a, 2016b). Another theme that emerged in our discussions is the general tendency to promote connectivity as a desirable landscape char- acteristic, thus labeling disconnectivity or low degrees of connec- tivity as a condition to avoid. However, disconnectivity or low levels of connectivity are present in landscapes as geomorphic features and boundaries between different process domains, not least because without them today’s geomorphic processes would not be creating the long-term sedimentary record of the future. In many cases, low levels of connectivity create environmental and societal benefits, such as nutrient retention and biotic uptake that improve water quality (Haycock and Burt, 1993; Wegener et al., 2017), sediment retention that increases habitat abundance and diversity (Jacobson et al., 2009), and attenuation of hydrologic fluxes that reduces flood hazards (Lininger and Latrubesse, 2016). Geomorphologists have a critical role to play in commu- nicating to resource managers and the public the benefits that can be derived from maintaining or restoring varying forms of connectivity and disconnectivity. Finally, instead of imposing boundaries and studying land- scapes and processes in compartments, there is value in evalu- ating boundaries as transition zones and examining the fluxes across them to understand landscape functioning. Our equa- tions and numerical models are commonly built in the same compartmentalized fashion. This calls for the development of equations and models able to capture process transitions and for a critical understanding of where and when connectivity or disconnectivity may be preferable to favor the long-term sus- tainability of our planet. To summarize: connectivity provides a useful conceptual framework for quantifying transfers of materials; examining fac- tors that enhance or limit these transfers; understanding and predicting geomorphic responses to changed input and bound- ary conditions; and communicating understanding of geomor- phic systems to resource managers and stakeholders. Landscapes and processes that promote and retard connectivity are heterogeneous in time and space. Geomorphic systems in- clude transitions and leakiness rather than just simple compart- ments linked by fluxes. Connectivity within geomorphic systems occurs along a continuum in which levels of disconnectivity can be critical to landscape and ecosystem in- tegrity. 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work_cujgdvepijfyxiunn4gedllleq	----	O r d e r i n d i s O r d e r T h e O h i O s TaT e U n i v e r s i T y P r e s s | C O l U m b U s Order in disOrder Intratextual Symmetry in Montaigne’s “Essais” Randolph Paul Runyon Copyright © 2013 by The Ohio State University. All rights reserved. Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Runyon, Randolph, 1947– Order in disorder : intratextual symmetry in Montaigne’s Essais / Randolph Paul Runyon. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references and index. ISBN-13: 978-0-8142-1240-0 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-8142-1240-9 (cloth : alk. paper) ISBN-13: 978-0-8142-9342-3 (cd-rom) ISBN-10: 0-8142-9342-5 (cd-rom) Montaigne, Michel de, 1533–1592. Essais—Criticism and interpretation. 2. Symmetry in literature. I. Title. PQ1645.R86 2013 844'.3—dc23 2013012565 Cover design by Laurence J. Nozik Text design by Juliet Williams Type set in Adobe Garamond Pro Printed by Thomson-Shore, Inc. The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of the American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials. ANSI Z39.48–1992. 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1 Acknowledgments ix IntroductIon: Marginal Symmetry 1 I. Book one 26 1. Of Means and Ends: I: 1 and I: 57 26 2. The Less Said: I: 2 and I: 56 31 3. Something to Hide: I: 3 and I: 55 36 4. Frivolous and Vain: I: 4 and I: 54 41 5. In or Out: I: 5 and I: 53 49 6. Trouble Back Home: I: 6 and I: 52 52 7. Words, in Effect: I: 7 and I: 51 55 8. Of Idleness and Horses: I: 8 and I: 50 58 9. Lying, After a Fashion: I: 9 and I: 49 63 10. Excess Baggage: I: 10 and I: 48 66 11. Enough Already: I: 11 and I: 47 70 12. Anagrams: I: 12 and I: 46 72 13. A Waiting Game: I: 13 and I: 45 74 14. More Than One Port in a Storm: I: 14 and I: 44 75 15. Custom and Princely Grandeur: I: 15 and I: 43 78 16. Judging Julian Judging: I: 16 and I: 42 80 17. Glory, Given and Taken: I: 17 and I: 41 82 18. Empty Signs: I: 18 and I: 40 84 COntents vi Contents 19. Prolonging Life: I: 19 and I: 39 88 20. Unmasking Masks: I: 20 and I: 38 90 21. Powers of Attraction: I: 21 and I: 37 92 22. Complementarities and Buried Allusions: I: 22 and I: 36 95 23. Here and There: I: 23 and I: 35 96 24. How to Paint a Dog: I: 24 and I: 34 98 25. Well-Nourished Daughters: I: 25 and I: 33 102 26. God’s Wrath and the Weather: I: 26 and I: 32 106 27. Things to Come: I: 27 and I: 31 109 28. Of Immoderation: I: 28 and I: 30 112 II. Book two 119 1. Sorting Out the Pieces: II: 1 and II: 37 119 2. Slipping It In: II: 2 and II: 36 121 3. Suicide Is Painless: II: 3 and II: 35 125 4. Caesar the Procrastinator: II: 4 and II: 34 130 5. Suffering Innocence: II: 5 and II: 33 132 6. Parallel Deaths: II: 6 and II: 32 136 7. Rewards and Punishments: II: 7 and II: 31 141 8. Hidden Monsters: II: 8 and II: 30 143 9. Only When You Need It: II: 9 and II: 29 149 10. Act Your Age: II: 10 and II: 28 151 11. Doubly Cruel: II: 11 and II: 27 155 12. Opposable Thumbs: II: 12 and II: 26 159 13. Eyes Wide Shut: II: 13 and II: 25 167 14. Equivalent Equivalents: II: 14 and II: 24 172 15. Civil War vs. Civil War: II: 15 and II: 23 176 16. Spreading the News: II: 16 and II: 22 179 17. Spitting Images: II: 17 and II: 21 182 18. Consubstantial Consubstantiality: II: 18 and II: 20 187 III. Book three 190 1. Distant Harmonies: III: 1 and III: 13 190 2. Distant Theft: III: 2 and III: 12 197 3. Intercourse with the Lame: III: 3 and III: 11 203 4. The Little Things: III: 4 and III: 10 209 5. Sexual Vanity, Vain Sex: III: 5 and III: 9 213 6. Borrowed Wealth: III: 6 and III: 8 217 Contents vii IV. Journey to the center of the Book 225 I: 29, II: 19, and III: 7 225 epIlogue: the playful text 253 Appendix 257 Works Cited 265 Index of Names 273 Index to the Essays 275 ix ACknOwledgments My fascination with Montaigne was ignited many years ago by Pro- fessor Jean Paris in an inspiring seminar he taught at Johns Hopkins Uni- versity. With his generous encouragement I began what became a lifelong journey to the center of the Essays. He enabled early publication of some initial findings in 1973 in the Parisian journal Change and persuaded the organizers of a Renaissance Symposium held at SUNY-Albany in October 1975 to invite me to speak in his place. I continued to develop my read- ings of the Essays’ symmetries at conferences held by the Modern Language Association, the Sixteenth-Century Society, the Groupe de Recherche sur le Recueil, the University of Massachusetts at Amherst, and the University of Cincinnati. Earlier versions of my argument appeared in two volumes edited by Daniel Martin, The Order of Montaigne’s “Essays” (Hestia Press, 1989) and Montaigne and the Gods (Hestia Press, 1993); in Essays in European Literature for Walter Strauss, edited by Alice N. Benston and Marshall C. Olds (Studies in Twentieth-Century Literature, 1990); in Le Recueil littéraire: Pratiques et théorie d’une forme, edited by Irène Langlet (Presses Universitaires de Rennes, 2003); and in Freedom Over Servitude: Montaigne, La Boétie, and “On Vol- untary Servitude,” edited by David Lewis Schaefer (Greenwood Press, 1998). I am grateful to the students of my graduate seminars at Miami Univer- sity for allowing me to test out and clarify these readings of the Essays. I am indebted to the manuscript’s readers at The Ohio State University Press for x Acknowledgments helping me to improve it and avoid a number of errors, though of course they are not responsible for those it may still contain. Heartfelt thanks are due to the Press’s Eugene O’Connor for his eagle eye and most especially to Senior Editor Sandy Crooms for her unflagging and resourceful support. Most of all, thanks go to Elizabeth, who for years has patiently listened as I enthused over the Essays and told me what worked and what didn’t. My translation of La Boétie’s 29 sonnets, the original middle of Book One of the Essays, together with some additional discussion of the connec- tions between chapters 5 and 8 in Book Three, may be found in an online appendix at the following url: https://ohiostatepress.org/Books/Book%20 Pages/Runyon%20Order.html 1 Montaigne begins “De l’amitié” [Of friendship] (I: 28), the chapter1 that comes just before the middle of the first book of the Essays, by talking about a middle that corresponds to that one and hinting at the way his book may be arranged: Considerant la conduicte de la besoingne d’un peintre que j’ay, il m’a pris envie de l’ensuivre. Il choisit le plus noble endroit & milieu de chasque paroy, pour y loger un tableau elabouré de toute sa suffisance, & le vuide tout au tour il le remplit de crotesques, qui sont peintures fantasques, n’ayants grace qu’en la varieté & estrangeté. Que sont-ce icy aussi à la verité que crotesques & corps monstrueux, rappiecez de divers membres, sans cer- taine figure, n’ayants ordre, suite ny proportion que fortuite? Desinit in pes- cem mulier formosa superne. 1. I follow André Tournon in referring to the constituent parts of the Essays as chapters instead of essays: “the term essay being reserved, in line with Montaigne’s usage, for the operation that takes place throughout the text” (Route par ailleurs: Le « nouveau langage » des Essais [Paris: Honoré Cham- pion, 2006], 12). Patrick Henry argues that “It can never be overstressed . . . that the word ‘essais,’ as employed by Montaigne, refers to his entire work, not to the one hundred and seven individual seg- ments which he calls ‘chapitres.’ The latter term obviously suggests a unified work, parts of a whole, not independent pieces” (p. 859 of “Reading Montaigne Contextually: ‘De l’incommodité de la grandeur’ (III, 7)” (The French Review 61.6 [May 1988]: 859–65). intrOduCtiOn Marginal Symmetry 2 Introduction [As I was considering the way a painter I employ went about his work, I was taken with the desire to imitate him. He chooses the noblest place, the middle of each wall, to place a picture labored over with all his skill, and the empty space all around it he fills with grotesques, which are fantastic paint- ings whose only charm lies in their variety and strangeness. What are these here too, in truth, but grotesques and monstrous bodies, pieced together of divers members, with no definite shape, having no order, sequence, or pro- portion other than by chance? “A lovely woman tapers off into a fish.”] (I: 28, 183a, DM 252–53; 135*)2 When he asks “Que sont-ce icy” [What are these here] he means the Essays, as he is preparing the reader for the next chapter, the numerically central one of the fifty-seven of which Book One is composed, and thus “le plus noble endroit & milieu” [the noblest place, the middle] in which he will put a text borrowed from his late friend Etienne de La Boétie. But what does he mean by “crotesques”? The word comes from the Ital- ian grotto, a cave. In the late fifteenth century, a young Roman fell through a crevice on a hill and found himself in what he thought was a subterranean cavern. It was actually the ruins of Nero’s Domus Aurea, an extensive com- plex the emperor had built as a residence after the fire of 64 c.e. After his death, the Romans covered it in with earth, erected new constructions above it, and Nero’s pleasure palace eventually faded from memory. When it was rediscovered in the Renaissance, the wall paintings that came to be known as grotesques were a revelation that sent shock waves through the world of art. Raphael and other artists visited these rooms to study the decorations and translate them into their own work. The “crotesques” to which Montaigne likens his Essays are essentially symmetrical, as Emmanuel Naya explains, “combining leafy interlacings with a profusion of fantastical subjects, hybrid beings proliferating in such a way as to suggest, beneath the symmetry of the arrangements, an impression of disorder.”3 This form of decoration was not 2. Where possible I quote from the 1580 edition for Books One and Two, and the 1588 edition for Book Three, citing them as DM, using Daniel Martin’s photographic reproduction (Geneva: Slat- kine, 1976 and 1988). I modernize the spelling only to the extent of incorporating the letters j and v and an accented à where appropriate. I do not italicize Montaigne’s Latin quotations, as he did, so that I may reserve italics for certain key words not italicized in the original; all italics, therefore, are mine. Other passages are quoted from Pierre Villey’s edition (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1964). I give page numbers in Villey in any case, followed by those in the first edition (indicated by DM); the number after the semicolon indicates the page in Donald Frame’s translation (The Complete Essays of Montaigne, tr. Donald M. Frame [Stanford: Stanford University Press, 1965]); an asterisk indicates that I have altered that translation. I provide my own translations of other texts originally in French. 3. Montaigne, Essais I, ed. Emmanuel Naya, Delphine Reguig-Naya, and Alexandre Tarrête (Par- is: Gallimard Folio Classique, 2009), 645. Introduction 3 new when Nero built his palace, going back to at least 100 b.c.e. Yet it was new to the Renaissance. Geoffrey Harpham writes that it was characterized by symmetrical anatomical impossibilities, small beasts, human heads, and del- icate, indeterminate vegetables, all presented as ornament with a faintly mythological character imparted by representations of fauns, nymphs, satyrs, and centaurs. . . . In them the eye is continually soothed by the bal- ance and proportion of the figures, and continually reassured that nothing means or coheres, nothing signifies. All is lively and symmetrical.4 These symmetries often appeared, especially in their Renaissance reincarna- tions, in vertical chains on either side of a central axis—as they do on the title page of the 1588 edition of the Essays themselves. When Montaigne says of his own “grotesques” that they have no “ordre, suite ny proportion que fortuite” [order, sequence, or proportion other than by chance] he is alluding to this Roman style, of which Vitruvius complained that it depicted monsters rather than definite representations taken from definite things. Instead of columns there rise up stalks; instead of gables, striped panels with curled leaves and volutes. Candelabra uphold pictured shrines and above the summits of these, clusters of thin stalks rise from their roots in tendrils with little figures seated upon them at random. Again, slender stalks with heads of men and animals attached to half the body. Such things neither are, nor can be, nor have been.  .  .  . For how can a reed actually sustain a roof . . . or a soft and slender stalk a seated statue, or how can flowers and half-statues rise alternatively from roots and stalks?5 As Naya puts it—“beneath the symmetry of the arrangements, an impres- sion of disorder”—it combines order and chaos. The order arises from the horizontal symmetry, the disorder from the vertical chain that suggests but immediately contradicts a cause-and-effect relationship between weak reeds and the statues they supposedly support (Montaigne alludes to those impos- 4. Geoffrey Harpham, On the Grotesque: Strategies of Contradiction in Art and Literature (Prince- ton: Princeton University Press, 1982), 26, 30. See also Nicole Dacos, La découverte de la Domus Aurea et la formation des grotesques à la Renaissance (London: The Warburg Institute, 1969), who writes that Renaissance artists inspired by the Nero’s palace created systems “composed of repeated elements that alternated or were divided symmetrically on either side of an axis. . . . These decorative types are at the origin of almost all grotesques, whether they extended vertically or horizontally” (52). 5. Vitruvius, De Architectura, quoted in Harpham, 26. Vitruvius was writing at an earlier time, but describing the same style. 4 Introduction sibilities here in quoting Horace about what begins as a woman but ends as a fish).6 The Essays are similarly a combination of order and disorder, of planning and chance. My thesis is that Montaigne was being very specific, and truthful, in describing his book in this way. The chapters of his Essays are indeed gro- tesques, a combination on the one hand of illogical disorder, when read in sequence from one chapter to the next (and, as many readers have realized, within many a chapter), and on the other persistent symmetry, when read with attention to the way he arranged them around the center of each of his three books: I: 29, II: 19, and III: 7. Every chapter to the left of those centers has a symmetrical companion to the right with which it shares rarely- occurring words and phrases in addition to parallel situations; the three cen- tral chapters are linked to each other in the same way. In Appendix A I list 165 of those symmetrical lexical links, of which 76 (46%) feature words or phrases, some of which are combined with situational similarities, that either appear nowhere else in the Essays at all (there are 57 such occurrences) or appear nowhere else in their Book (there are 19 instances) save in symmetri- cally arranged chapters. Each of the 52 chapter pairs (28 in Book One, 18 in Book Two, 6 in Book Three) provides at least one lexical link; 47 (90%) give two or more; 23 of them give three or more. Of the 52 chapter pairs, 37 (71%) offer lexical links unique either to their Book or to the Essays as a whole. The rarity of these lexical connections is attested by Roy E. Leake’s Concordance to the Essays.7 The situational similarities that link each of the chapters are not the amorphous thematic parallels Michel Butor suggested in Essais sur les Essais, though it was reading his book in 1969 that prompted me to seek out the symmetries I eventually found.8 Butor had the merit of calling our attention to the supreme significance of the mysterious chapter I: 29, which is easy to miss in most editions today because it either isn’t there (since Montaigne removed it in his plans for an edition he did not live to complete) or is 6. Where did Montaigne see this painter of his create such a work? Some tantalizing traces remain of paintings on the walls of the “cabinet” in Montaigne’s chateau, but Alain Legros finds that although “the rare vestiges certainly show ‘variété’ around the central paintings,” there can be found “no ‘peinture fantasque,’ no trace of ‘corps monstrueux, rappiecez de divers membres’” (Alain Legros, Essais sur poutres: Peintures et inscriptions chez Montaigne [Paris: Klincksieck, 2000], 126). He wonders if they might have been painted on a wall that had been redone later, or in a room on the floor below, or somewhere else in the chateau. Later he comments that Montaigne’s “intention was less to describe the work of his painter in this room . . . than his own writing practice, his original dispositio . . . more enchanting than laboriously-wrought paintings and well-made books” (169). 7. Roy E. Leake, Concordance des Essais de Montaigne (Geneva: Droz, 1981). 8. Michel Butor, Essais sur les Essais (Paris: Gallimard, 1968). Introduction 5 relegated to an appendix at the end. But the few symmetries Butor proposes, in addition to not really being based on I: 29 as the absolute center of Book One but on an alleged “double center” composed of I: 28 and I: 29, are not compelling: Thus chapter 30, “Of moderation,” continues the discouraging comments on marriage of chapter 28; chapter 32, “That we should meddle soberly with judging divine ordinances,” responds to 27, “It is folly to measure the true and false by our own competence”; chapter 34, “Fortune is often met in the path of reason,” pursues what is said about fortune in 24, “Various outcomes from the same plan.” One can then see that the chapter on cloth- ing, I: 36, responds to that on the imagination, I: 21, and naturally the one on Cato the Younger, I: 37, to I: 20, “That to philosophize is to learn to die.” (Essais sur les Essais, 73) With I: 29 as the center, Butor’s pairings of I: 27 with I: 32, I: 21 with I: 36, and I: 20 with I: 37 disappear; what he says of the continuities linking I: 28 with I: 30 and I: 24 with I: 34 is true, but hardly scratches the surface of the wealth of connections that are actually there. He rightly gives II: 19 a place of honor as the center of Book Two and notes that the symmetrically aligned chapters II: 11 and II: 27 both allude to cruelty in their titles, but it is highly unusual that a pair of chapters should advertise their symmetrical connec- tion on the surface. Obviously most do not, for if they did there would not be much disagreement about the Essays’ symmetrical structure. A theme as broad as cruelty can be found in many places in the Essays: the word cruauté appears in 24 chapters other than II: 11 and II: 27; fortune, which Butor thought connected I: 24 and I: 34, appears in 33 other chapters within Book One alone. André Tournon cites Butor’s pairings and then comments: To these one could add the theme of imperturbability in chapters I: 12 and I: 44, inane predictions in I: 11 and I: 47, illusions of language in I: 9 and I: 51, and those of thought in I: 4 and I: 53. Someone who would be sat- isfied by more strained connections might uncover other correspondences, for instance between I: 22 and I: 33 on social competition and cooperation. The text lends itself to these “vain subtleties,” and it matters little that the numerical center of these perceived couplings is only approximate. For it is not a question of arithmetic but of disposition, and as we know the deco- rative motifs of “grotesques” always involve slight distortions in the balanc- ing pattern: the corresponding figures are similar, but different, and even the foliage that at first glance gives an impression of perfect symmetry is 6 Introduction not strictly identical from left to right. The point of these figures is to pres- ent the appearance of a proliferation that is almost orderly, of almost con- trolled aberration, where the threat of chaos is diverted into artistic caprice. Is this to say that in comparing his book to those “grotesques” Montaigne admits to having adopted a resolutely ludic and ornamental agenda? This is hardly likely.9 It would be pointless indeed to look for a pattern in the placement of themes like cruelty and fortune (Butor) or imperturbability and inane predictions (Tournon), for precisely because they are among Montaigne’s major con- cerns they will tend to appear in more places than two. The components of the symmetrical connections I will reveal are so much more specific, subtle, and elaborate that it is surprising that they could even appear more than once, and all the more surprising that these sorts of complex repetitions keep appearing in symmetrically corresponding chapters. In other words, I am not at all concerned with the placement of themes, major or minor, but instead with symmetrically placed lexemes and situational parallels. Besides, if we want to figure out what Montaigne meant by saying that his surrounding chapters are equivalent to surrounding grotesques there is no point in looking for major themes, because what appear in the mirror- ing grotesques, for example in the engraving by Nicoletto da Modena that Tournon reproduces to accompany the passage I quoted above, are nothing like major themes. In that engraving the major themes, the Judgment of Paris and Orpheus playing his violin for an audience of animals, are pre- sented in the central axis. The grotesques on either side are crescent moons with human faces, warriors, Cupids, birds, enchained captives, and mon- sters: motifs, not themes, not allusions to specific narratives. Tournon remarks that it does not much matter that “the numerical cen- ter of these perceived couplings is only approximate.” But the only reason it is approximate in the first place is that both his and Butor’s examples are not equidistant from any constant center. That they decided to take that tack hardly rules out the possibility of a constant center, the basis for my analy- sis. Butor’s theory of a double center comprising I: 28–29, which Tournon adopts only for the sake of debunking Butor, gives us 27 chapters on one side but 28 on the other, which could hardly be an accurate analogy to Renaissance grotesques, for the latter typically display the same number of figures on either side (as for example in the Nicoletto da Modena engraving 9. André Tournon, “Configuration du premier livre,” in Essais de Michel de Montaigne, Livre I. Edited by André Tournon (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1998), 35–36. Introduction 7 Tournon provides). But if we were to try to make sense of Tournon’s cou- plings, or Butor’s (I: 27 and I: 32, for instance), we would find that some are not even centered around I: 28–29. The slight differences between one grotesque and its symmetical counter- part to which Tounon calls our attention are real, but hardly a justification for rejecting the analogy Montaigne proposes between his chapters and the artist’s grotesques. The opposite is in fact the case, for those subtle differ- ences, particularly in the work of Nicolleto da Modena,10 are analogous to those we will find in the Essays’ symmetrical doublings. In the engraving Tournon includes, we see the front of one cupid but the back of its sym- metrical counterpart; of two seated female nudes both with their back to the central axis, one faces the viewer while the other’s face appears in profile. The same artist in another engraving (plate 156 in Dacos) follows a similar procedure for three other pairs of figures, and in addition depicts a pair of seated, winged females who are writing, one having finished writing the let- ter A, the other still engaged in writing a B. This kind of subtle difference, sometimes with precise oppositions (such as that between a completed letter and one still being written), happens throughout the Essays. Take the case of II: 11 and II: 27, a symmetrical pairing to which Butor briefly alludes, “De la cruauté” [Of cruelty] and “Couardise mere de la cruauté” [Cowardice, the mother of cruelty]. Such a similarity of title, as I have said, is hardly typical of the Essays. More typical, as I will show, and at the same time more strik- ing is the parallelism of the following two passages, one from each of these two chapters: “tout ce qui est au dela de la mort simple me semble pure cru- auté” [all that is beyond plain death seems to me pure cruelty] (II: 11, 431a, DM 144; 314) and “Tout ce qui est au dela de la mort simple, me semble pure cruauté” [All that is beyond plain death seems to me pure cruelty] (II: 27, 700a, DM 511; 530).11 Although cruauté appears many other times ele- where in the Essays, only in these two instances do the other echoing words appear with it. In this case, however, Montaigne is saying the same thing in both passages; quite often in such mirroring passages he will say the oppo- site. Elsewhere in these two chapters the association of cruauté with another 10. See, in addition to the example Tournon reproduces, plates 156 and 157 in Dacos, as well as the grotesques created for the Vatican Loggia by Raphael and Jean d’Udine (especially plate 174 in Dacos) and the work of Pinturicchio (Dacos, plates 86–88). 11. Géralde Nakam notes the striking recurrence of this sentence (Le Dernier Montaigne [Paris: Honoré Champion, 2002], 198, and Montaigne: La Manière et la Matière [Paris: Honoré Champion, 2006], 125), but does not speak of any other symmetrical echoes. Drawing on just this this one in- stance (II: 11 and II: 27), she concludes that the symmetry of Book Two is more striking than that of Book One, in fact, that “the symmetry is only striking in Book Two” (Le Dernier Montaigne, 198), as if it were otherwise absent from Book One, and present in Book Two only in this instance. 8 Introduction term, mollesse [softness], reveals a subtle opposition like that between the two writing women (and that, together with two other lexemes, ouïr and gémir, appears only in these two chapters): in II: 11, Montaigne says he has an aver- sion to cruelty because of his own “mollesse” [softness] (429a; 313), but in II: 27 he says that men characterized by “mollesse” have a propensity to cruelty (693b; 523). One passage contradicts the other. As he would later confess, “je me contredits bien à l’adventure” [I indeed contradict myself sometimes] (III: 2, 805b; 611*). More recently, in his entry “Organisation des Essais” in the Dictionnaire de Montaigne, Tournon continues to argue against any intentional arrange- ment: “The ingeniousness of modern critics has tried  .  .  .  to weave subtle connections between contiguous or distant chapters”—the latter, in my case, through their symmetrical cross-references. “Such investigations can reveal partial arrangements that are potentially meaningful  .  .  .  but they are not convincing with regard to the whole collection because they cannot prevail against the express declarations of the writer.”12 Only fragments of the total arrangement have been brought to light until now13; perhaps the fuller pic- ture presented here has a chance of carrying more conviction. What I am proposing is a hypothesis. The only way to determine its validity is to try it out. I propose trying it out with every single pair of symmetrically related chapters, and we will see if it works. As for Montaigne’s express declarations, they are no more free of con- tradiction nor more absolute than any other statement in his book. As Yves Delègue writes, “Le risque d’erreur est minime en effet pour qui parle des Essais: tout y est dit, et son contraire” [The risk of error is minimal for any- one who speaks of the Essays: everything is said there, and its contrary].14 Montaigne not only makes contradictory statements, but describes his own discourse as at times “menteur” [lying]: Non seulement le vent des accidens me remue selon son inclination, mais en outre je me remue et trouble moy mesme par l’instabilité de ma pos- ture.  .  .  . Toutes les contrarietez s’y trouvent selon quelque tour et en quelque façon. Honteux, insolent; . . . menteur, veritable. . . .  12. Dictionnaire de Michel de Montaigne, ed. Philippe Desan (Paris: Honoré Champion, 2007), 847–51. 13. In articles of mine (listed in Works Cited) dating back to 1973 that I would not presume Tournon has all read. As far as I know, Butor (and Nakam, following in his footsteps) is the only other to have explored the symmetrical hypothesis. 14. Montaigne et la mauvaise foi: L’écriture de la vérité (Paris: Honoré Champion, 1998), 8. Introduction 9 [Not only does the wind of accident move me at will, but, besides, I am moved and disturbed as a result merely of my own unstable posture.  .  .  . All contradictions may be found in me by some twist and in some fashion. Bashful, insolent; . . . lying, truthful. . . . ] (II: 1, 335b; 242) The Essays are a work of fiction told by an unreliable narrator.15 Montaigne freely admits that he is inconsistent, whether it be because he has the right to change his mind— Je pourray tantost changer, non de fortune seulement, mais aussi d’inten- tion. C’est un contrerolle de divers et muables accidens et d’imaginations irresoluës et, quand il y eschet, contraires: soit que je sois autre moy-mesme, soit que je saisisse les subjects par autres circonstances et considerations. [I may presently change, not only by chance, but also by intention. This is a record of various and changeable occurrences, and of irresolute and, when it so befalls, contradictory ideas: whether I am different myself or whether I take hold of my subjects in different circumstances and aspects.] (III: 2, 805b; 611) —or because he has forgotten what he wrote or what he had in mind when he wrote it: J’aurai elancé quelque subtilité en escrivant. (J’enten bien: mornée pour un autre, affilé pour moy. Laissons toutes ces honnestetez. Cela se dit par cha- cun selon sa force); et je l’ay si bien perdu que je ne sçay ce que j’ay voulu dire: et l’a l’estanger descouverte par fois avant moy. [I will have tossed off some subtle remark as I write. (I mean, of course, dull for anyone else, sharp for me. But let’s leave aside all these amenities. Each man states this kind of thing according to his powers.) Later I have lost the point so thoroughly that I do not know what I meant; and some- times a stranger has discovered it before I do.] (I: 10, 40c; 27) Et suis si excellent en l’oubliance que mes esrits mesmes et compositions, je ne les oublie pas moins que le reste. On m’allegue tous les coups à moy- mesme sans que je le sente. 15. As Patrick Henry notes, “The most pervasive tendency in modern Montaigne criticism is to envision the Essais as fiction rather than history” (“Reading Montaigne Contextually,” 859). 10 Introduction [I am so good at forgetting that I forget even my own writings and com- positions no less than the rest. People are all the time quoting me to myself without my knowing it.] (II: 17, 651b; 494) When we read the chapters in symmetrical pairs yet another kind of self- contradiction emerges, of which an example is Montaigne’s seeing civil wars in a positive light in II: 15 but in a negative one in II: 23.16 Those parallel chapters, like the others, have so many other cross-references between them that it is clear that Montaigne had one of them in mind—indeed, before his eyes—when he was writing or rewriting the other, even if he may have begun them at different times. Consequently those two contradictory views of civil strife must at some point have also been in his mind at the same time. This apparent self-contradiction can be attributed neither to his having changed his mind nor to his having forgotten when he wrote one chapter what he had written in the other. There are many instances, however, of oppositions between symmetrically linked chapters, many of which do not at first glance present themselves as opposing opinions on Montaigne’s part but are never- theless intriguingly opposed. For example, each of the first pair of chapters is about diverse means to a same end (as one’s title indicates) but the ends are exactly opposite: not dying in I: 1, dying in I: 57. In the second pair, a visible “contenance” [countenance] in I: 56 denotes a failure to communi- cate while an invisible “contenance” in I: 2 communicates what could not be communicated if it were visible. Tournon insists that no such arrangement is possible (certainly no sym- metrical one, though he does cites several instances of sequential links) because Montaigne tells us he leaves everything to chance: “Je n’ay point d’autre sergent de bande à ranger mes pieces que la fortune. A mesme que mes resveries se presentent, je les entasse” [I have no other marshal but chance to arrange my pieces. As my fancies present themselves, I pile them up] (II: 10, 409a, DM 100-1; 297*). But as Alfred Glauser remarks, “What Montaigne calls fortune is a controlled fate [un sort dirigé],” and the essay- ist’s statements about chance are just another of his paradoxes: “Paradox is the leaven of the work. . . . Chance is controlled.”17 And Montaigne’s asser- tion that he records his “resveries” at the moment they present themselves is undercut by his writing elsewhere of “mes contes prenans place selon leur 16. Jean-Yves Pouilloux delights in listing such contradictions in Lire les « Essais » de Montaigne (Paris: Maspero, 1969), 29–38. “Adding up these contrary meanings produces a net result of zero. . . . Montaigne does not produce coherent opinions, but on the contrary divergent ones on a given subject; it is never certain that Montaigne is really speaking of what he seems to be talking about” (35). 17. Alfred Glauser, Montaigne paradoxal (Paris: Nizet, 1972), 11. Introduction 11 opportunité, non tousjours selon leur aage” [my stories finding their place not always by their chronology but by their opportuneness] (III: 9, 964c; 736*). The admission that he places his anecdotes by their opportuneness is consistent with what we will find here, that often a story in one chapter will show opportune connections with a passage in that chapter’s symmetrical partner. Although the story is undoubtedly apocryphal, it is tempting to compare the medieval scholars who, arguing over what Aristotle said concerning how many teeth a horse should have, rejected out of hand an outsider’s sugges- tion that someone just go and count them, to scholars of the Essays who argue back and forth over whether Montaigne says his book is the product of chance or of order (a question his contradictory statements give them plenty of reason to argue). Why not just go count the teeth? The book trumps the author; what can be found in the book trumps whatever “express declarations” its narrator may have made, as that narrator himself declares: The Essays “peut sçavoir assez de choses que je ne sçay plus, et tenir de moy ce que je n’ay point retenu et qu’il faudroit que, tout ainsi qu’un estranger, j’empruntasse de luy, si besoin m’en venoit. Il est plus riche que moy, si je suis plus sage que luy” [may know a good many things that I no longer know and hold from me what I have not retained and what, just like a stranger, I should have to borrow from it if I came to need it. If I am wiser than it, it is richer than I] (II: 8, 402c; 293). Tournon himself counted one of the teeth without realizing it when he discovered in the margins of the Bordeaux Copy that a post-1588 addi- tion to III: 9 was originally a post-1588 addition to III: 5 (Route par ail- leurs, 347).18 In other words, that symmetrical pair of chapters are so attuned to each other, indeed so much the same text, that the passage could have appeared in either one. Both Sayce (The Essays of Montaigne, 260–62) and Frédéric Brahami19 remind us that Montaigne also declares “Mon humeur est de regarder autant à la forme qu’à la substance” [My humor is to consider the form as much as the substance] (III: 8, 928b; 708) and “Qu’on ne s’attende pas aux matieres, mais à la façon que j’y donne” [Do not linger over the matter but over my fashioning of it] (II: 10, 408a; 296*). He may seem to denigrate his book by saying that “ce n’est qu’une marqueterie mal jointe” [it is only a badly joined marquetry] (III: 9, 964c; 736*), but as Brahami points out, “In vain does Montaigne claim his right to disorder, for . . . the badly joined 18. See my discussion of this floating passage in the section on III: 5 and III: 9. 19. “Ordre,” in Dictionnaire de Montaigne, 840–42. 12 Introduction marquetry is nevertheless a marquetry, in the same way that the ‘monstrous’ grotesques that provide the artistic model for Book One are not pure chaos” (841). A similar statement on Montaigne’s part, that his Essays are a “ce fagotage de tant de diverses pieces” [this bundle of so many disparate pieces] (II: 37, 758a, DM 599; 574*) should be read in light of what he says elsewhere in the same chapter (the last in Book Two and thus the concluding chapter in the 1580 edition) about assembling pieces: “[il] faut que toutes ces pieces, il les sçache proportionner & rapporter l’une à l’autre, pour en engendrer une parfaicte symmetrie” [he must know how to proportion all these pieces and relate them to one another to engender a perfect symmetry] (II: 37, 773a, DM 627; 587). He is not talking about his book in this passage. But these words may well have a secondary relevance to the book because of what he says in the symmetrically matching chapter (the first in Book Two): “Il est impossible de renger les pieces, à qui n’a une forme du tout en sa teste” [A man who does not have in his head a picture of the whole cannot possibly arrange the pieces] (II: 1, 337a, DM 9; 243*). In other words, he writes of arranging pieces to form a symmetry at a moment when he is arranging cer- tain “pieces” (these parallel passages) to form a symmetry. And he does this in the same book he calls a mere “fagotage” of disparate pieces. Montaigne’s statement in “De l’oysiveté” [Of idleness] (I: 8) that his book is the record of the chimera and monsters to which his idle mind gave birth in a manner “sans ordre, & sans propos” [without order and without purpose] (I: 8, 33a; DM 32; 21*) could leave the impression that that record itself, the act of “les mettre en rolle” [writing them down], was similarly lacking in order. But when he writes again, in a post-1588 addition to “Du démentir” [Of giving the lie] (II: 18), of his wild reveries and keeping a record of them it turns out that there is some order involved after all: “Aux fins de renger ma fantasie à resver mesme par quelque ordre et projet, et la garder de se perdre et extravaguer au vent, il n’est que de donner corps et mettre en registre tant de menues pensées qui se presentent à elle. J’escoute à mes resveries par ce que j’ay à les enroller” [In order to train my fancy even to dream with some order and purpose, and in order to keep it from losing its way and roving with the wind, there is nothing like embodying and regis- tering all the little thoughts that come to it. I listen to my reveries because I have to record them] (II: 18, 665c; 504). Gisèle Mathieu-Castellani takes note of the contradiction: “From the chapter ‘De l’oiseveté’ to the chapter ‘Du démentir,’” we find “the same network of images of extravagance, the same project of enrollement . . . but henceforth the record keeping” is justi- Introduction 13 fied by “the awareness of a rigorous obligation of order and conservation.”20 That Montaigne may have succeeded in bringing some order to his rev- eries is suggested by the way the chapter “Democritus et Heraclitus” [On Democritus and Heraclitus] (I: 50), symmetrically paired with “De l’oysi- veté,” brings a symmetrical ordering to the assertion of the absence of order. The “sans ordre, & sans propos” of I: 8 finds an echo in the way Mon- taigne in I: 50 describes his writing process as proceeding “sans dessein et sans promesse”: “Semant icy un mot, icy un autre, eschantillons despris de leur piece, escartez, sans dessein et sans promesse” [Sowing a word here, there another, samples separated from their context, dispersed, without a plan and without a promise] (I: 50, 302c; 219). Even André Tournon, who rejects any ordering principle, though without referring to this echo, finds that these two chapters have enough in common that I: 50 is “perhaps placed in a sym- metrical position with chapter I: 8” (in his edition of the Essais, I, 631). That this is not just a self-referential but a metafictional phenomenon becomes apparent if we grant that the Essays are a work of fiction—a book about a man writing about various topics, some more philosophical than others, in a miscellany of “diverses pieces” not forming an organized whole. That would indeed be a fiction if it should turn out that they did form an organized whole. The metafiction emerges when Montaigne subtly alludes through the symmetrical echoes themselves to the fact that they are sym- metrical echoes. As he says of freaks of nature in “D’un enfant monstrueux” [Of a monstrous child] (II: 30), that is of unnatural monsters like those that appear in the symmetrical grotesques, which often depict human heads on animal torsos, that are the visual equivalent of his book, “cette figure qui nous estonne, se rapporte et tient à quelque autre figure de mesme genre inconnu à l’homme  .  .  .  mais nous n’en voyons pas l’assortiment et la rela- tion” [this figure that astonishes us is related and linked to some other figure of the same kind unknown to man . . . but we do not see their arrangement and relation] (II: 30, 713c; 539*). My task is to make apparent that “assorti- ment” and “relation.” This approach to Montaigne reveals a hidden dimension to every chap- ter, which is especially interesting in the case of some of the very brief ones in Book One of which Pierre Villey complained that “All one can say about most of these chapters is that there is nothing to say”21—the ones only one or two pages long that seem to be just a bunch of anecdotes thrown 20. Gisèle Mathieu-Castellani, Montaigne ou la vérité du mensonge (Geneva: Droz, 2000), 68. 21. Pierre Villey, Les sources et l’évolution des “Essais” de Montaigne. 2 vols. (Paris: Hachette, 1908), vol. 2, 44. 14 Introduction together, that on their own really do not constitute a well-wrought text. For we have only been reading half of what Montaigne intended, as he may be suggesting when in the course of writing about dividing his book into chapters he remarks, “à l’adventure ay-je quelque obligation particuliere à ne dire qu’à demy” [perhaps I have some personal obligation to speak only by halves] (III: 9, 995–96c; 762). Those brief and scanty chapters will make much more sense when we read their other half. Antoine Compagnon once asked, “How are we to read the Essays? Simply put, what is their unity? The book, the chapter, the sentence? All these answers have been suggested, yet none has proved satisfactory.”22 (By “the book” he means Book One, Two, or Three considered separately.) Perhaps even to look for a “unity” short of the entire collection is to miss the total unity Montaigne gave it, but I propose that one of the unities we should consider is that formed by each symmetri- cal pair. Although Montaigne’s characterization of his chapters as grotesques is a direct allusion to the style of decoration inspired by the Roman grotesques discovered in the Domus Aurea, and a way of hinting at their symmetrical arrangement, he is hardly alone in creating a literary work based on symme- try. There were antecedents among the classical texts he knew so well. Ring- composition, in which lexical and situational parallels and oppositions are arranged in the form of symmetrical echoes, is now recognized as a feature of the Iliad and the Odyssey. According to Glenn W. Most, In recent years, a consensus has begun to emerge among scholars that the Homeric epics indeed bear the signs of such large-scale narrative organiza- tion [as] ring-composition and recurrence, parallelism and opposition. . . . To be sure, such devices as ring-composition are ultimately anchored in the mechanics of oral composition: they function, like Ariadne’s thread, to bring a poet out of a story by the same path on which he entered it and to return him to the mainline of action. But already in Homer, and of course all the more in later Greek poets, such mechanical devices are functional- ized and thematized: rather than simply aiding the poet, they contribute to his poem’s meaning.23 Cedric W. Whitman, an early proponent of this theory, argued that the Iliad 22. P. 24 of Antoine Compagnon, “A Long Short Story: Montaigne’s Brevity,” Yale French Studies 64 (1983): 24–50. 23. Pp. 20–21 and 20n–21n of Glenn W. Most, “The Structure and Function of Odysseus’ Apologoi,” Transactions of the American Philological Association 119 (1989): 15–30. Introduction 15 as a whole forms one large concentric pattern, within which a vast sys- tem of smaller ones, sometimes distinct and sometimes interlocking, gives shape to the separate parts. It has been suggested that such “onion skin” design arose from a device originally mnemonic. . . . But . . . such a pur- pose is clearly superseded when it becomes the structural basis of a fifteen- thousand-line poem such as the Iliad. It has become an artistic princi- ple.  .  .  . It is commonplace in ancient art for technical devices which are functional in one medium to be transferred to another medium where they are purely ornamental.24 In a remarkable study Paul Claes focuses primarily on the sequential link- ages uniting Catullus’s Carmina, but in addition to these he discerns three symmetrical clusters, poems 1–36, 76–92, and 92–107.25 The central poem of each differs from the rest: 17 because it is the only poem in the collection in Priapean meter, 84 and 99 because they are longer than the others in the cluster.26 Claes bases his argument on both repeating lexemes and thematic parallels. For example, to take just a small section of one of these: 80: Quid . . . Gelli / 88: Quid . . . Gelli 81: Nemone . . . tanto potuit . . . homo / 87: Nulla potest mulier tantum 82: Quinti / 86: Quintia 83: sentis / 85: sentio 80: perverse sex by day / 88: perverse sex by night 81: friend more loved than any man / 87: mistress more loved than any woman 82: Catullus’ rival Quintius / 86: Lesbia’s rival Quintia 83: Lesbia’s contradictory feelings / 85: Catulus’ contradictory feelings (122–23) Building on the insights of Paul Maury, Otto Skutsch argues that Virgil’s Eclogues are arranged in a symmetry linking 1 with 9, 2 with 8, 3 with 7, and 4 with 6, with the center of that symmetry, 5, linked to the concluding 10.27 1 and 9 are both about land expropriations and both feature omens of 24. Cedric W. Whitman, Homer and the Homeric Tradition (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1957), 97–98. 25. Paul Claes, Concatenatio Catulliana: A New Reading of the Carmina (Amsterdam: J. C. Gieben, 2002), 120–26. 26. This would be true of 84 if he limited the cluster to 77–91, as 76 is longer. 27. Otto Skutsch, “Symmetry and Sense in the Eclogues,” Harvard Studies in Classical Philology 73 (1969): 153–69. 16 Introduction disaster28; complaints of frustrated love comprise 2 and 8; both 3 and 7 are composed of singing matches between two shepherds; 4 and 6 both “pro- vide supernatural revelations. The first comes from the Sibyl . . . presenting the glorious future, and the second from Silenus  .  .  .  interpreting the ter- rible past.”29 Eclogues 5 and 10, as James R. G. Wright observes, are united in their allusions to Theocritus’s first Idyll. “Eclogue 5 begins where Idyll 1 leaves off, with the death of Daphnis. . . . Eclogue 10 presents the historical figure Gallus”—a poet friend of Virgil’s—“but predicates of him much of what is said by Theocritus about Daphnis.”30 Specifically, in Eclogue 10 Gal- lus, dying of unhappy love, is visited by gods (Apollo, Silvanus, and Pan) who ask him why he is letting himself suffer so; in Idyll 1 Daphnis, dying of unhappy love, is visited by gods (Hermes, Priapus, and Aphrodite) who interrogate him similarly. In Matthew S. Santirocco’s reading, the first three books of Horace’s Odes, published together in 23 b.c.e., likewise show a high degree of orga- nization, primarily through links between neighboring poems, but as Claes found in Catullus, some symmetrical arrangements emerge as well: “Just as the midpoint of each book is marked by a poem to Maecenas, so the collec- tion as a whole is also anchored at its center.” That center is composed of the first 12 poems of Book 2, whose alternation of Horace’s two most important meters and . . . thematic com- prehensiveness . . . establish their status as a group. Placed in the exact cen- ter of the collection, with thirty-eight odes preceding them and thirty-eight following, they serve not only to open the second book but also to stabilize the entire ensemble. If there is centerpinning, there is also framing. Just as the ends of Book I are individually linked by poems that balance each other, so the collection as a whole is surrounded by rings that link 1.1–7 respectively with 3.30–24.31 28. Charles Segal spells out some additional connections between 1 and 9. There are two char- acters in both, one of whom complains to the other about being kicked off his land. “Both involve exile from a peaceful, familiar world; and both develop a contrast . . . between a shepherd facing exile and one who is still at rest within the pastoral world.” In addition to the omen in both that Skutsch mentions Segal cites among “[s]ome deliberate verbal echoes” the following: “Insere, Daphni, piros” [Graft your pear-trees, Daphnis] in 9 and “Insere nunc, Meliboee, piros” [Now, Meliboeus, graft your pear-trees] in 1 (p. 173 of Charles Segal, “Tamen Cantabitis, Arcades—Exile and Arcadia in Eclogues 1 and 9,” in Virgil: Critical Assessments of Classical Authors, volume 1: General Articles and the Eclogues. Ed. Philip Hardie (New York: Routledge, 1999), 172–202. 29. I am quoting a paraphrase of Maury’s argument found on p. 103 of Niall Rudd, “Architecture. Theories about Virgil’s Eclogues,” in Hardie, 91–115. 30. P. 138 of James R.  G. Wright, “Virgil’s Pastoral Programme: Theocritus, Callimachus and Eclogue 1,” in Hardie, 116–71. 31. Matthew S. Santirocco, Unity and Design in Horace’s Odes (Chapel Hill: University of North Introduction 17 More important than the symmetry is the fact that these texts—par- ticularly Catullus’ Carmina and Horace’s Odes—are organized in some way, despite such diversity from one poem to the next that they may seem at first reading (like Montaigne’s Essays) to be arranged in a haphazard manner. A closer examination, one that both Claes and Santirocco argue was available to and practiced by some contemporary readers, would reveal a hidden net- work of cross-references. As Claes writes, “The unexpected order was meant to astonish the connoisseur and to test his acumen” (24). “The combination of juxtaposition and contrast seems to aim at concordia discors ‘harmony in discord,’ which is an essential feature of [the] Hellenistic aesthetics” that inspired Catullus (28). We will find the same esthetic in the Essays. Whether it be through symmetry or concatenation, in Montaigne as in Catullus and Horace two texts at a time (two chapters, two poems) are brought together in confrontation by the structure of the collection in which they appear, and the “suffisant lecteur” [able reader] (I: 24, 127a; 93) is challenged to find the paradox of their connection. Thus a “giron” [lap] in “De la tristesse” (I: 2) denoting sexual orgasm is matched by in “Des prieres” (I: 56) by the “giron” of God Himself, very much as Catullus’s elegy for his brother in Carmina 101 is clearly linked with the previous satirical attack (poem 100) by repetition of frater and fraternus. The incongruous juxtaposition of a sexual and a sepulchral poem seems rather tasteless, but should be interpreted as a typi- cal example of Hellenistic variation, especially as a mixture of gravity and humour, i.e. spoudaiogeloion. In such cases lexical concatenation connects and disjoins at the same time. (Claes, 51) The contrast and connections between Horace’s odes 1.27 and 1.28 are simi- larly surprising. In the former, “As a party in progress rapidly degenerates into a brawl, the poet urges moderation and restraint (1–8). A question at line 9 indicates that he too (me quoque) has been urged to join in the merri- ment.” 1.28 begins with the narrator lecturing “Archytas on the inevitability of death. . . . At line 21, however, the speaker includes himself (me quoque) among the dead, thereby revealing that he is not Horace, as we had assumed” and as he had been in the preceding poem. In both poems, “the speaker introduces himself into the situation by means of the phrase, me quoque” (Santirocco, 63–64), which turns out to be “surprisingly rare in the Odes,” occurring in only one other poem (Santirocco, 196n). This is far from the only connection between the poems, but is a particularly interesting one Carolina Press, 1986), 150. 18 Introduction since the same phenomenon of rarely-occurring phrases is what consistently unites the chapters in the Essays. While Montaigne knew those texts well, we do not know if he was aware of their symmetries and concatenations. I am not arguing that they influ- enced him in that direction but that such intratextual structures and such doubling effects are so widespread and such a naturally occurring phenom- enon in literary collections that Montaigne did not need to be influenced to do it. Among examples from his own time one could cite the symmet- rical and concatenting structure of the emblems in Maurice Scève’s Délie (1544),32 the symmetrical structures Doranne Fenoaltea sees in Ronsard’s Odes,33 and Edwin Duval’s revelations about Rabelais, particularly his Tiers Livre and Quart Livre.34 In Thinking in Circles: An Essay on Ring Composition, Mary Doug- las discusses symmetrical composition in the Bible, Homer, Herodotus, Thucydides, and in folk traditions of many unrelated cultures. As I will do here, Douglas looks for “key phrases  .  .  .  that are repeated in the matched sections” and “cannot be found anywhere else in the book.”35 My proposal that we read symmetrically associated chapters together parallels Douglas’s observation concerning poetic collections that “the poems once regarded as separate units can now be read as connected sequences” (7). Those chapter pairs form an intratext constituted by the intratextuality of its component parts. That is, by contrast to intertextuality, where foreign texts take up residence in a text (as do Montaigne’s borrowed quotations and anecdotes), in intratextuality it is textual fragments from elsewhere in the text that do so. As Douglas further observes, “the matching of sections often contains surprises; items are put into concordance that had not previously been seen to be similar. Parallelism gives the artist opportunities of taking the text to deeper levels of analogy” (36). Montaigne certainly seizes that opportunity, for the stories he tells “portent souvent, hors de mon propos, la semence 32. As I argue in “‘continuelz discors’: The Silent Discourse of Délie’s Emblems,” L’Esprit Créateur 28.2 (1988): 58–67. 33. Doranne Fenoaltea, Du palais au jardin: L’architecture des Odes de Ronsard (Geneva: Droz, 1990). 34. Edwin M. Duval, The Design of Rabelais’s Tiers Livre de Pantagruel (Geneva: Droz, 1997) and The Design of Rabelais’s Quart Livre de Pantagruel (Geneva: Droz, 1998). At the numerical midpoint of the Tiers Livre he finds two meaningful words (Duval, Tiers Livre, 126); at the numerical midpoint of Book One of the Essays we will likewise find two significant words (one of them—rien [nothing]— prophesying the fate of that middle]), as well as a surprising pair of numerical coincidences. There is a religious component in Duval’s reading of Rabelais, however, which is absent from my reading of Montaigne. 35. Mary Douglas, Thinking in Circles: An Essay on Ring Composition (New Haven: Yale University Press, 2007), 54. Here she is discussing the symmetrical structure of the book of Numbers. Introduction 19 d’une matiere plus riche et plus hardie, et sonnent à gauche un ton plus delicat, et pour moy qui n’en veux exprimer d’avantage, et pour ceux qui rencontreront mon air” [often bear, outside of my subject, the seeds of a richer and bolder material, and sound off to the side a subtler note, both for myself, who do not wish to express anything more, and for those who get my drift] (I: 40, 251c; 185). They function in a larger context, in other words, than their immediate one. Many of the texts Douglas and other investigators of ring composition examine are narratives, often long narratives composed of smaller ones. The Essays, though they contain hundreds of brief narratives, are not themselves one. Rabelais’s Tiers Livre resembles them in this way, composed of discrete episodes and lacking the overarching narrative of a Gargantua or Pantagruel, as well as having a hidden symmetrical design. Montaigne may claim that his work is a haphazard collection, in the passages Tournon cites, but so did Rabelais. That did not deter Duval from finding a design beneath its surface: [C]ontrary to its own emblematic self-representations in the prologue and in chapter 24, it is neither a haphazard assemblage of incompatible parts nor an aimless shaggy dog story. Its two most conspicuous, self-avowed defects—the incongruity of its parts and the absence of a telos at the end— are in fact complementary aspects of a single, perfectly coherent design of a higher order. (Duval, The Design of Rabelais’s Tiers Livre, 132). Ring composition is a subset of the literary parallelism that so fascinated Roman Jakobson, who quoted with approval Gerard Manley Hopkins’s observation that The artificial part of poetry, perhaps we shall be right to say all artifice, reduces itself to the principle of parallelism. The structure of poetry is that of continuous parallelism, ranging from the technical so-called Parallelisms of Hebrew poetry and the antiphons of Church music to the intricacy of Greek or Italian or English verse.36 Commenting on this, Jakobson finds the etymology of prose and verse sugges- tive: from proversa as “speech turned straightforward” and versus as “return.” 36. Quoted in “Grammatical Parallelism and Its Russian Facet,” in Roman Jakobson, Language in Literature (Cambridge: Harvard University Press, 1987), 145. Jakobson in an interview said, “there has been no other subject during my entire scholarly life that has captured me as persistently as have the questions of parallelism” (Roman Jakobson and Krystyna Pomorska, Dialogues [Cambridge: MIT Press, 1988], 100). 20 Introduction So that “on every level of language the essence of poetic artifice consists in recurrent returns” (Language and Literature, 145). This does not mean that parallelism cannot also occur in prose. “A number of types of literary prose are constructed according to a strict principle of parallelism,” he said in reply to the question of whether he still believed in a sharp distinction “between versus and proversa, particularly in light of your theory of prose as a structure based on the principle of contiguity and poetry as a structure founded on the principle of similarity?” He added that parallelism in prose can appear when parallel structures deviate maximally from total submission to the elementary principle of succession in time. Nonetheless, there is a notable hierarchical difference between the parallelism of verse and that of prose. In poetry, it is the verse itself that dictates the structure of parallelism. The prosodic structure of the verse as a whole, the melodic unity and the repetition of the line and of its metrical constituents determine the parallel distribution of elements of grammatical and lexical semantics. . . . Inversely, in prose semantic units differing in extent play the primary role in organizing parallel structures. In this case, the parallelism of units connected by similarity, contrast, or contiguity actively influences the composition of the plot, the characteriza- tion of the subjects and objects of the action, and the sequence of themes in the narrative. (Dialogues, 106–7) The only kind of prose Jakobson is thinking of here is prose narrative, which Montaigne’s book is not. But unlike a prose narrative, the Essays have a struc- tural equivalent to the prosodic structure in verse where Jakobson finds the potential for parallelism, whether that be line positions in successive stan- zas, or rhymes, or other repeating structures. It is that the Essays are divided into chapters. We can look for parallels in sequential chapters—as Tournon in at least one instance has done, despite claiming that there is no order to the Essays’ overall structure—or in symmetrical ones. He does a good job of revealing subtle ties linking “Consideration sur Ciceron” (I: 40) and “De ne communiquer sa gloire” (I: 41), thereby showing, as he points out, how mis- guided Gallimard was to have adopted Marie de Gournay’s rearrangement of the Essais for the 2007 Pléiade edition, which moves chapter 14 of the First Book to lodge it precisely between those two chapters, I: 40 and I: 41.37 37. Les Essais. Ed. Jean Balsamo, Michel Magnien and Catherine Magnien-Simonin (Paris: Gal- limard / Pléiade, 2007). André Tournon, “Du bon usage de l’édition posthume des Essais,” Bulletin de la Société des Amis de Montaigne 7: 29–30 (January–June 2003): 77–91. Introduction 21 There is absolutely no evidence Montaigne intended such a change. From my symmetrical reading I will produce even more evidence (a lot more in fact, since it involves all the chapter pairs between I: 14 and I: 40) to show what an “énorme bévue” [enormous blunder], as Tournon puts it (“Du bon usage,” 87), that editorial decision was. Marie de Gournay is hardly a trust- worthy source, basing her edition as she claims on a possibly mythical copy that is contradicted in myriad ways by Montaigne’s marginal notes on the Bordeaux Copy, which was not discovered until 1777 and thus unavailable to scholars when her succeeding editions held sway throughout the seven- teenth and eighteenth centuries. She inserted praise of herself at the end of II: 17 that has no equivalent in the Bordeaux Copy. As Claude Blum points out, she kept modifying that passage throughout her successive editions from 1595 to 1635.38 If she was being scrupulously faithful to Montaigne’s text, as she claimed, then why did the text in her possession keep changing? On top of that, in 1624 she fraudulently claimed that she had uncovered a manu- script of poems by Pierre de Ronsard (Blum, 65–69). But even if evidence were to surface that Montaigne at some later moment wanted the order of the chapters changed, my analyses of the chapter pairs in each instance focus first on the texts of the original 1580 edition of Books One and Two and the original 1588 edition of Book Three, and only then do they consider the alterations Montaigne made, which in many instances add symmetrical connections. The 1580 edition is worth studying on its own, as I will do here. Pierre Coste, who edited Montaigne in 1725, argued that the first version has its virtues: One has but to compare the first editions of the Essais with the subsequent ones to see that those frequent additions threw a lot of disorder and con- fusion into the arguments that were originally very clear and logical. Mon- taigne’s style  .  .  .  could be compared to a necklace of pearls that had first been composed of perfectly round ones of equal size and among which were added others not so perfectly round but much bigger. The latter in increasing the necklace’s price made it lose a good part of its beauty. It is the same with most of the thoughts that Montaigne inserted from time to time in his book. . . . Because Montaigne could easily see what connected his first thoughts despite what he inserted between them, he counted on an attentive reader to see it as well as he. But sometimes what remains of 38. Claude Blum, “La Pléiade en habits de Gournay,” Nouveau Bulletin de la Société Internationale des Amis de Montaigne 3 (1er semestre 2008): 55–70. 22 Introduction those connections is so faint that it is impossible to see it without consult- ing the earlier editions.39 In Intratextual Baudelaire I likewise began with the first edition (1857) of the Fleurs du mal, and then considered the changes the poet made for the second (1861), revealing a host of textual alterations (both between the poems’ 1857 and 1861 versions and in the case of poems new to the second edition between their version there and their prior separate publication) that enhance the sequential structure. These changes reveal authorial intent. So too do the additions and subtractions by which La Fontaine departed from the sources for his Fables and Contes. Though we may live in the age of the death of the author, reports of that death, as Mark Twain said of his own, are greatly exaggerated. “Intratextuality” is a fairly recent term, susceptible to varying definitions. According to Helen Morales in 2000, In its weakest formulation the term intratextuality merely indicates the property whereby one part of a text refers to or relates to another part of the same text. . . . The stronger formulation of the term understands intra- textuality to be a property of texts where the internal design, structure, and partition of the text are particularly paraded.40 I offered an even stronger formulation in 1992 in a book on Raymond Carv- er’s short story collections, defining it as “what can happen when the texts in a text (poems or stories in an intelligently assembled sequence) begin to refer to each other in ways that seems to refer to their doing so” (Reading Raymond Carver, 9). Carver’s stories (like Baudelaire’s poems, Montesquieu’s Persian Letters, and La Fontaine’s Fables and Contes) refer to each other through their sequential structure. They are metafictional but their metafictionality arises from their intratextuality—that is, they are self-referential (and hence meta- fictional) through their sequential structure. The intratextuality of collections is a different thing from the intratextu- ality of an ostensibly unified work. Internal partition is more obvious in col- lections like Catullus’ Carmina or Montaigne’s Essays or Baudelaire’s Fleurs 39. Quoted by Claude Blum on pp. 10–11 of “L’édition des Essais à travers les âges: histoire d’un sinistre,” in Éditer les Essais de Montaigne: Actes du Colloque tenu à l’Université Paris IV-Sorbonne les 27 et 28 janvier 1995, ed. Claude Blum and André Tournon (Paris: Honoré Champion, 1997), 5–19. 40. P. 326 of Helen Morales, “Endtext” in Intratextuality: Greek and Roman Textual Relations, edited by Helen Morales and Alison Sharrock (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 325–29. “Endtext” in Intratextuality: Greek and Roman Textual Relations, edited by Helen Morales and Alison Sharrock (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 325–29. Introduction 23 du mal than it is in the Aeneid, a play, or a novel, because in collections individual chapters or poems are presented as if they were self-sufficient and independent texts while the books of the Aeneid, like chapters in a novel or acts of a play, together tell the same overarching story. We do not know at the outset whether a collection as a whole is a work of art comprising inter-relating parts; some are, some not. Of Morales’s two formulations, the second seems more applicable to collections of ostensibly independent texts because in them the partitions are particularly “paraded.” Yet it is not clear that she was thinking of such collections at all because her essay comes at the end of a volume of articles on classical texts she co-edited none of which focuses on a collection to ask whether its parts cohere (even the one on Catullus deals with just one poem). Kip Wheeler’s definition of “intratextual meaning” does concern itself uniquely with collections: “Meaning that originates not within a work itself, but that originates in a related work in the same collection.” He cites William Blake’s Songs of Innocence and Songs of Experience, and “The Canterbury Tales, in which the various pilgrims’ tales seem to ‘bounce off ’ each other, echoing the themes, phrasing, concerns, and ideas of previous storytellers.  .  .  . The overall meaning originates not in one single pilgrim’s pronouncement, but rather between or amongst the various statements made by other pilgrims.”41 But though this definition may be adequate for intratextuality generally, it does not take into account structural elements of a collection that often con- tribute to intratextuality: sequence (Catullus, Horace, La Fontaine, Montes- quieu, Baudelaire) and symmetry (Virgil, Montaigne). Long before the term was invented, Cleanth Brooks gave a beautifully intratextual reading (though without using that term) of a compound text both symmetrical and sequen- tial (since there are only two parts to it), Milton’s “L’Allegro–Il Penseroso.” According to Brooks the two poems are “twin halves of one poem,” elements in one finding echoes in the other. “The cheerful man’s day is balanced by the pensive man’s day at every point.” Moving beyond the fairly obvious opposing elements that “everyone knows,” Brooks finds for example that the “high lonely Tower” where the pensive man meditates at midnight migrates to the other poem. Although “‘high’ and ‘lonely’ seem inevitably associated with the tower, and the tower itself, the inevitable symbol of the medita- tive, ascetic life, one remembers that towers are to be found all through ‘L’Allegro’—yet they’re associated with anything but lonely solitude,” from the tower where sings the lark to the pleasing “Towered Cities” where the 41. Kip Wheeler, “Literary Terms and Definitions,” at http://web.cn.edu/kwheeler/lit_terms_I. html. 24 Introduction cheerful man enjoys his ramble. Like the recurring words in the Essays’ sym- metrical chapters, towers appear in both poems but in quite different con- texts. They travel from one chapter to its distant double, but leave their thematic baggage behind (or in Milton’s case, pick up the opposite kind of baggage at their destination).42 I am not the first to allude to the Essays’ intratextuality. Jules Brody has written of their “intratextual” dimension, of how they invite the reader “to pursue and compare observed lexical recurrences, synonymies or on occasion even sizeable passages which continue to impinge on one another even at sev- eral pages’ distance,” of “the absolutely uncanny way in which Montaigne’s words respond to one another, in the Baudelairean sense, across the pages of the essay.”43 He stays within the limits of a chapter at a time, but there is no reason his insightful word-centered (“philological”) approach could not be applied to the Essays as a whole, and in particular to the intratext formed by each symmetrical pair. Michel Beaujour has writtten of what he terms the Essays’ “intratextual memory,” a “system of cross-references, amplifications, and palinodes.”44 This intratextual memory is “a text that refers to itself as it imitates the mechanisms of involuntary memory and free invention” and “eventuates in the production of a text that  .  .  .  that tends more and more to refer only to its own past in passing again over the traces already writ- ten”—that is, to its own text in prior versions—“and that tends always more toward its own self-sufficiency, even though it never quite succeeds, and for good reason, in folding back and closing completely upon itself.”45 Beaujour of course is not referring to any structural elements but to the intratextuality of the Essays as a whole. The thematic equential connections traced by R. A. Sayce and Marianne Meijer do not conflict with, far less contravene, the symmetrical ones I will present here.46 Few sequential links have so far been brought to light. While 42. Cleanth Brooks, The Well Wrought Urn (New York: Harcourt Brace, 1947; 1975), 50–66. 43. Pp. 269–70 of Jules Brody, “‘Du repentir’ (III: 2): A Philological Reading,” Yale French Studies 64 (1983): 238–72. 44. Michel Beaujour, Poetics of the Literary Self-Portrait, translated by Yara Milos (New York: New York University Press, 1991), 20. 45. P. 45 of Michel Beaujour, “Les Essais: Une mémoire intratextuelle,” in Textes et Intertextes: Études sur le XVIe siècle pour Alfred Glauser, ed. Floyd Gray and Marcel Tetel (Paris: Nizet, 1979): 29–45. 46. For Sayce, see pages 264–65 of The Essays of Montaigne: A Critical Exploration (London: Wei- denfeld and Nicolson, 1972), and “L’ordre des Essais de Montaigne” (Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et de Renaissance 18 [1956]: 7–22). Marianne S. Meijer pursues the same hypothesis in “L’ordre des « Essais » dans les deux premiers volumes” (in Montaigne et les Essais: 1580–1980, ed. Pierre Michel [Paris: Champion, 1983], 17–27), and “Guesswork or Facts: Connections between Montaigne’s Last Three Chapters (III: 11, 12, and 13)” (Yale French Studies 64 [1983]: 167–79). Patrick Henry in “Reading Introduction 25 I feel that Montaigne’s comparing his Essays to grotesques in I: 28 probably means that there is no more sequential order to his chapters than there is to the vertical chains on either side of the decorative art to which he alludes, nevertheless both ordering systems, symmetrical and sequential, could coex- ist. As far as my chapters are concerned, you are welcome to read them in any order. There are a few cross-references between successive ones, but not many. This book is not a continuous narrative nor a gradually unfolding argument, but a commentary that gives serious consideration to every chap- ter, the neglected with the famous. Begin where you will; omit what you wish. It is my hope that you will be pleasantly surprised by the new perspec- tive that can be gained by reading any chapter in the company of its hidden other half. Montaigne Contextually: ‘De l’incommodité de la grandeur’ (III, 7)” brings to light sequential connec- tions between III: 6, 7, and 8. 26 1. Of means and ends “Par divers moyens on arrive à pareille fin” [By diverse means one arrives at the same end] (I: 1) and “De l’aage” [Of age] (I: 57) The time has long passed since Pierre Villey’s disparagement of Book One’s early chapters—”All one can say about most of these chapters is that there is nothing to say”—held sway.1 There has recently been more and more to say, especially about the first. Celso Martins Azar Filho reports that the first chapter “is today considered a kind of introduction” to the Essays because it presents “ideas Montaigne judged fundamental and indispensable to under- standing his work.  .  .  . In fact, this text could be compared to the overture to an opera, in which most of the elements or themes to be developed are already present.”2 Lawrence D. Kritzman writes of this chapter that because “each of its stories possesses its own language that contradicts the meaning of another story” it serves “as a nuclear thematic model for the Essais.”3 For 1. Pierre Villey, Les sources et l’évolution des “Essais” de Montaigne, vol. 2: 44. 2. P. 15 of Celso Martins Azar Filho, “Le premier chapitre des Essais,” Bulletin de la Société des Amis de Montaigne 8. 37–38 (January–June 2005): 15–30. 3. Lawrence D. Kritzman, Destruction/Découverte: Le Fonctionnement de la Rhétorique dans les i BOOk One I. Book One 27 Frieda S. Brown, it justifies its liminal position as “the gateway,” even if it cannot be said to possess “the rich development and fullness of later and bet- ter known essays.”4 Hugo Friedrich writes that its content justifies its position as the first chapter, for it “sets up the predominant moral theme of the Essais, namely the question of whether one can come to an understanding of con- crete changeable man with general, rigid maxims.”5 Edwin M. Duval writes, “One could hardly imagine a better introduction to the Essays. I say ‘intro- duction’ in the strong sense of the term, for the logical path of the chapter seems made to lead us . . . from the active world of wars to the contemplative world of the Essays, from exercitus to the exercise of our natural faculties.”6 I am particularly taken with Duval’s formulation, because the kind of reading in which I invite you to engage is indeed such an exercise in con- templation, where there is at each juncture a puzzle to be solved—that of discovering how does one chapter respond to its symmetrically-linked part- ner—and where each chapter, by virtue of its place in Montaigne’s overall scheme, has a claim on our attention. Wars and cruelty and begging for mercy are important (so much so that David Quint described his book Mon- taigne and the Quality of Mercy as “an extended commentary on Montaigne’s first essay”7), but to the degree to which the Essays are not just the reflection of the writer’s thought and not merely historically conditioned by their times the last chapter of Book One should merit as careful a reading as the first. “De l’aage” (1: 57) is much less studied than “Par divers moyens” because its apparent subject is much less compelling. Why should we care as much about natural life expectancy and compulsory retirement from public service as we would about how to escape from the wrath of a vengeful captor? But if we are interested in why Montaigne ordered the chapters the way he did, if we can catch enough clues to begin to overhear one chapter con- versing with another, and if we can tune in to the ways the Essays turn their topics into allusions to their own arrangement, then we can understand what Montaigne found interesting about tenure of office and the unnaturalness of natural deaths. This first symmetrical pair provides a good introduction “Essais” de Montaigne (Lexington, KY: French Forum Publishers, 1980), 29, 21. 4. Pp. 144, 138–39 of Frieda S. Brown, “‘By Diverse Means We Arrive at the Same End’: Gate- way to the Essays,” In Approaches to Teaching Montaigne’s Essays, ed. Patrick Henry (New York: Modern Language Association of America, 1994), 138–45. 5. Hugo Friedrich, Montaigne, translated by Dawn Eng (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1991), 145. 6. P. 900 of Edwin M. Duval, “Le début des ‘Essais’ et la fin d’un livre,” Revue d’Histoire Littéraire de la France 99. 5 (1988): 896–907. Among other readings of I: 1 Steven Rendall’s is particularly useful (Distinguo: Reading Montaigne Differently [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1992], 15–21). 7. David Quint, Montaigne and the Quality of Mercy: Ethical and Political Themes in the Essais (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1998), xi. 28 I. Book One to the others, for it will be characteristic of those as it is of this pair that the chapters speak not only of the same things but of opposite things. As we will see in this instance, the “pareille fin” to which “divers moyens” lead is life in the first chapter but in the last, death. “La plus commune façon” [The commonest way]—the Essays’ first chapter began in 1580—“d’amollir les coeurs, de ceus qu’on a offensez, lors qu’ayant vengeance en main, ils nous tiennent à leur mercy, c’est de les émouuoir à commiseration & a pitié: toutes fois la braverie, la constance, & la resolution, moyens tous contraires ont quelque fois servi a ce mesme effet” [of soften- ing the hearts of those we have offended, when with vengeance in hand they hold us at their mercy, is to move them to commiseration and pity; how- ever, audacity, steadfastness, and resolution—entirely opposite means—have sometimes served to produce this same effect] (I: 1, 7a, DM 1; 3*). Thus the “divers moyens” to which the chapter’s title refers turn out to number only two, of which one is most commonly used while the other has only “some- times” [quelque fois] worked. But from the evidence Montaigne goes on to cite, despite the minority status the first sentence gives it, the second method appears the better choice. Of the seven anecdotes related in 1580, to which an eighth was added in 1588 and two more after 1588, in only one is the first method successful—and then just barely. The citizens of Thebes, having brought their military captains to trial for having stayed in command past their allotted term, absolved “à toutes peines” [just barely] Pelopidas, who yielded under the weight of their accusations and made “supplications” to escape the penalty. On the other hand, Epamnondas proudly recounted his mighty deeds and reproached the Thebans for accusing him. He was let off as well, the citizens barely having the heart to cast their ballots, and walking away from the assembly singing his praises (I: 1, 8a, DM 5–6; 4*). In all the other cases Montaigne cites, the second means is resorted to. In the 1580 edition, in five out of six cases where the second is tried it is successful; in the three added in subsequent editions it is not, but in none of those three is the first means even attempted. In three out of the five instances in 1580 in which the second method succeeds the first method had been first tried but proved fruitless. It would appear that although the first method is the most commonly attempted (a conclusion to which we might have arrived anyway in presum- ing that most people lack the courage to try the other), the cumulative effect of the examples cited is to suggest that the second is the better choice. In this way, the chapter finds a parallel in “De l’aage,” where a certain common opinion is also shown to be wrong: “Je ne puis recevoir la façon dequoy nous establissons la durée de nostre vie. Je voy que les sages l’accoursissent bien I. Book One 29 fort au pris de la commune opinion” [I cannot accept the way in which we establish the duration of our life. I see that the sages, as compared with the common opinion, make it a great deal shorter] (I: 57, 326a, DM 490; 236*). I have italicized façon and commune in this quotation from the first two sen- tences of I: 57 because they recall the first words of the first sentence of I: 1: “La plus commune façon d’amollir les coeurs, de ceus qu’on a offensez, lors qu’ayant vengeance en main.  .  .  .  ” Thus Book One begins by setting up a verbal echo, and begins its conclusion by completing it. Montaigne’s point is that an average human lifespan is shorter than we think, and that the common opinion is wrong as well that holds that most of us can expect to die of old age: “c’est la façon de mort la plus rare de toutes, & la moins en usage. Nous l’appelons seule naturelle, comme si c’es- toit contre nature de voir un homme se rompre le col d’une cheute, s’estoufer d’un naufrage, se laisser surprendre à la peste ou à un pleuresi . . . on doit à l’aventure appeller plus tost naturel ce qui est general, commun, & univer- sel” [it is the rarest way of dying of all, and the least in use. We call it alone natural, as if it were unnatural to see a man break his neck in a fall, drown in a shipwreck, fall victim to the plague or pleurisy. . . . One should perhaps instead call natural that which is general, common, and universal] (I: 57, 326a; DM 491–92; 236–37*). The first words of the other chapter—“La plus commune façon”—are echoed again here, where another façon, being rare, is not commun[e].8 Other verbal echoes will lead us to see just how deeply these two chap- ters parallel each other. In the first one’s title, by diverse means “on arrive à pareille fin,” while the end of which Montaigne writes in the other is an end at which one likewise arrives: Cato the Younger thought that his age of 48 years was “bien meur & bien auancé, considerant combien peu d’hommes y arrivent” [very ripe and advanced, considering how few men arrive there] (I: 57, 326a, DM 491; 236*); the essayist goes on to declare, “mon opinion est de regarder que l’aage auquel nous sommes arrivez, c’est un aage auquel peu de gens arrivent” [my opinion is to consider that the age at which we have arrived is an age at which people few arrive] (I: 57, 326a, DM 493; 237*). Furthermore, death is an end at which we all arrive by diverse means: of a broken neck, of drowning, of pleurisy and the plague, and once in two or three hundred years, of old age. In both chapters one arrives at one’s end by diverse means. In the chapter whose title makes a point of the diversity of those means, there is a choice of two such means, though the one commonly attempted, the evidence shows, 8. Old age was a “façon de mort” in 1580 and 1588; in 1595 it became an “espèce.” 30 I. Book One is only rarely a genuine means to the end in question. In the other chapter, the means are genuinely diverse (ironically so, given that it is the other chap- ter’s title, not this one’s, that speaks of their diversity), though the one com- monly thought to be common is, the evidence shows, rare. Of all the cases cited in I: 1, only one illustrates the title’s assertion by a contrasting diversity of means leading to the same end. In all the other cases, either the first means is tried unsuccessfully and then the second leads to the desired end, or only the second is attempted, and not always with success. Only in the case of Pelopidas and Epaminondas do both means lead to a “pareille fin.”9 And only in that case is the end really the same, that of avoid- ing death at the hands of the same avenger for the same reason. It is, indeed, a special case. By coincidence (or maybe not) it is also features the rarest of echoes with “De l’aage.” Pelopidas and Epaminondas were brought before the bar of justice and obliged to defend their lives “pour avoir continué leur charge outre le temps qui leur avoit esté prescript & preordonné” [for hav- ing continued their mandate beyond the time that had been prescribed and foreordained for them] (I: 1, 81, DM 5; 4*). In 1: 57 a death from old age is “la borne, au dela de laquelle nous n’yrons pas, & que la loy de nature a prescript pour n’estre point outre-passée” [the limit beyond which we will not go, and that the law of nature has prescribed not to be passed beyond] (I: 57, 326a, DM 492; 237*). Nowhere else in Book One do outre (either alone or as a prefix) and prescrit (whether masculine or feminine, singular or plural) appear in the same sentence. Both the law of nature and the law of Thebes prescribe a length of time that one cannot pass beyond. Pelopidas and Epaminondas as military men who retire too late from their assigned duty find an inverse parallel in “De l’aage” when Montaigne takes up the case of soldiers retiring too soon. Servius Tullius let his knights retire from service at age 47; Augustus at 45. Montaigne thinks that is too young an age, preferring 55 or 60. In fact, “Je serois d’advis qu’on estan- 9. Epaminondas occupies a special place in Montaigne’s esteem, with Homer and Alexander one of the three greatest men of history in the chapter “Des plus excellens hommes [On the most excellent men] (II: 36)—in fact, of the three, “le plus excellent, à mon gré” [the most excellent, to my mind] (II: 36, 756a; 572). He is in Montaigne’s personal mythology the heroic equivalent of Plutarch, his most es- teemed writer. Part of his fascination for Epaminondas is tied up with his fascination for Plutarch, that is for a part of Plutarch that will remain forever inaccessible to Montaigne, the Life of Epaminondas Plutarch wrote (together with the parallel Life of Scipio Aemilianus) that is missing from his Parallel Lives. “O quel desplaisir le temps m’a faict d’oster de nos yeux . . . la couple de vies justement la plus noble qui fust en Plutarque” [Oh, what pain time has given me by removing from our eyes  .  .  .  the most noble couple of lives that were in Plutarch] (II: 36, 757c; 573*). Epaminondas’ contemporary equivalent in Montaigne’s estimation is surely Étienne de La Boétie, whose text (the twenty-nine son- nets Montaigne made the centerpiece of Book One) likewise disappeared, in the passage of time, from the text of these Essays that, as I will try to show, have much in common with the Parallel Lives (a parallel that Marcel Tetel has suggested (Montaigne: Updated Edition. [Boston: G.  K. Hall / Twayne’s World Authors Series, 1990], 87). I. Book One 31 dit nostre vacation et occupation autant qu’on pourroit pour la commodité publique” [I should be of the opinion that our employment and occupation should be extended as far as possible, for the public welfare] (I: 57, 327a, DM 494; 237). Montaigne has it both ways, setting up a parallel between the time limit imposed by Theban law on Pelopidas and Epaminondas and the time limit imposed by nature’s law on the human lifespan, a parallel he underlines by his choice of echoing words, but also setting up a parallel between Pelopi- das and Epaminondas’ desire to stay in office longer than is legal and his own assertion that employment in public service should be extended as long as possible. It is as if he were taking up Pelopidas and Epaminondas’ defense— but doing so in the symmetrically-related chapter. Up this point everything I have discussed comes from the 1580 edition (the genuine 1580 text that Daniel Martin’s reproduction provides, and not just the “A” passages from modern editions, which are not totally reliable). So it is apparent that Montaigne was engaged in these secret symmetries from the beginning. But we will see that in subsequent editions he added even more connections. An instance of that may be the curious B (that is, 1580) addition to I: 57 consisting entirely of “Si l’espine nou pique quand nai, / A pene que pique jamai, disent-ils en Dauphiné” [If the thorn doesn’t prick at birth / It will hardly ever prick, they say in Dauphiné] (I: 57, 327b; 237*), which may have been placed there in connection with the B addi- tion to I: 1 concerning Alexander the Great, who, “tout piqué d’une si chère victoire, car entre autres dommages, il avoit receu deux fresches blessures sur sa personne” [pricked by such a dearly won victory, for among other damage he had received two fresh wounds on his person] (I: 1, 9b; 5*) was unchar- acteristically merciless to Betis. The point of the Dauphinois proverb is that if a trait isn’t apparent in youth (by the age of twenty, as Montaigne says) it is unlikely ever to appear. But Alexander’s pique and its consequence are at odds, as Montaigne notes, with his being normally “si gratieux aux vaincus” [so gracious to the vanquished] (I: 1, 9b; 5*). Even though it is in contradic- tion with the rest of what he says about Alexander it does fit well with the addition of the passage with “pique” to the corresponding chapter. 2. the less said “De la tristesse” [Of sadness] (I: 2) and “Des prieres” [Of prayers] (1: 56) In “Des prieres” Montaigne argues against praying any prayer but the Lord’s Prayer, which he finds suitable for all occasions: before and after meals, upon 32 I. Book One rising and going to bed; indeed “à toutes actions particulieres, ausquelles on a accoustumé de mesler des prieres, je voudroy que ce fut le seul patenostre que les Chrestiens y emploiassent” [on all particular actions with which we are accustomed to associate prayers, I should like it to be the Lord’s Prayer alone that Christians employ] (I: 56, 318a, DM 482; 230*).10 Not only is it true that it “dit tout ce qui nous sert” [says all that serves us] (I: 56, DM 483; 230*),11 but no other prayer is going to do any good anyway, for God “nous favorise selon la raison de sa justice, non selon nos inclinations & volon- tez” [favors us according to the reason of his justice, not according to our inclinations and desires] (I: 56, 318a, DM 483; 230*).12 Montaigne’s posi- tion against putting religious thoughts into any words other than those God has prescribed extends to his approval of the Church’s forbidding “l’usage promiscue, temeraire & indiscret” [the promiscuous, reckless, and indiscreet use] of the Psalms. “Cette voix est trop divine. pour n’avoir autre usage que d’exercer les poulmons et plaire à nos oreilles. C’est de la conscience qu’elle doit estre produite, & non pas de la langue” [This voice is too divine to have no other use than to exercise our lungs and please our ears; it is from the con- science that it should be produced, and not from the tongue] (I: 56, 320a, DM 484–85; 232*). The prayers men make are too often not worth making, and betray unchristian thoughts. “L’avaricieux le prie pour la conservation vaine et superflue de ses tresors” [The miser prays to him for the vain and superfluous conservation of his treasures] (I: 56, 324a, DM 486; 235); the thief, the murderer, and the adulterer pray for success in their enterprises. What could this drastic limitation of what ought to be said in prayer have to do with sadness, the ostensible subject of I: 2, “De la tristesse”? We can arrive at the answer once we realize that I: 2 is actually about emotions, of which sadness is but one example, that are so great that they cannot be expressed.13 Psammenitus, for example, said not a word when his daughter was taken prisoner and his son put to death, but began to beat his head in 10. In post-1588 editions, “seul” is replaced by “sinon seulement, au moins toujours” [if not only, at least always] (I: 56, 318c). 11. Altered after 1588 to “tout ce qu’il nous faut” [all we need], incorrectly attributed by Villey (p. 318) and by Rat (p. 303) to the “A” stratum. 12. Altered after 1588 to “et nous favorise selon la raison d’icelle, non selon nos demandes” [et favors us according to its reasons, not acording to our demands]. 13. Fausta Garavini likewise notes that “the title ‘Of sadness’ is far from embracing all the content of the chapter.” After the beginning, “it all has very little to do with sadness, except that what underlies these successive displacements—from sadness to love to joy to shame—the leveling similarity that welds these examples together is the excessive character of passion, whose effects are fatal.” Pp. 131–32 of her article “Le Fantasme de la mort muette (à propos de I, 2, ‘De la tristesse’),” Bulletin de la Société des Amis de Montaigne, 7th series, no. 13–16 (July–December 1988, January–June 1989): 127–39. The effect of such passion is not just death but also silence. I. Book One 33 grief when he saw one of his servants among the captives: “c’est, respondit-il, que ce seul dernier desplaisir se peut signifier par larmes, les deux premiers surpassans de bien loin tout moyen de se pouvoir exprimer” [“it is,” he said, “because this last grief alone can be signified by tears; the first two far surpass any power of expression”] (I: 2,12a, DM 8; 6). Montaigne cites the case of the painter who could depict the grief of the onlookers at Iphigenia’s sacrifice but “quand se vint au pere de la fille, il le peignit le visage couvert, comme si nulle contenance ne pouvoit representer ce degré de deuil” [when he came to the girl’s father portrayed him with his face covered, as if no countenance could represent that degree of grief ] (I: 2, 12a, DM 9; 6). Likewise, poets depict Niobe as mute as stone at the news of her children’s death. As Petrarch wrote, speaking of love, not sadness, “Chi puo dir, com’ egli arde é in picciol fuoco” [He who can say how he burns, burns little] (I: 2, 13a, DM 10; 7); similarly, Seneca: “Curae leves loquuntur, ingentes stupent” [Light cares can speak, but heavy ones are mute] (I: 2, 13a, DM 11; 8). That this chapter, despite its title, is not about sadness but rather the impossibility of expressing, and in some cases even surviving, extremely strong emotions really becomes apparent when Montaigne leaves sadness behind to move on to instances of lust and unexpected pleasure, and then to examples of persons dying from joy: a mother who saw her son return from battle alive, Sophocles, Dionysius the tyrant, Talva, and Pope Leo X. He concludes with a curious case of death from shame, that of Diodorus the dialectician, who collapsed and died “pour en son eschole & en public ne se pouvoir desveloper d’un argument qu’on luy avoit faict” [because in his own school and in public he could not refute an argument that had been put to him] (I: 2, 14a, DM 12; 8*). The discussion in “De la tristesse” turns not only away from its own title but towards the discussion in “Des prieres” of what Montaigne there says of what “doit estre produit” [should be produced] “de la conscience . . . & non pas de la langue” [from the conscience . . . and not from the tongue] (I: 56, 320a, DM 484–85; 232*). In I: 2 a passion that can be expressed is not worth expressing (“Chi puo dir, com’ egli arde é in picciol fuoco”), while in I: 56 a prayer of human invention, as opposed to the Lord’s Prayer, is not worth expressing, either because God knows our needs anyway and will dispense them according to his justice with no regard for our desire or because such prayers are selfish and criminal. What is genuine and heartfelt—be it grief or piety—cannot be expressed. In I: 2 it cannot be expressed at all; in 1: 56 it cannot be humanly expressed, only divinely expressed in the words God gave us to say in the Lord’s Prayer. Yet another instance of the general rule that the deepest passion cannot find expression is “la défaillance fortuite, qui surprent les amoureus si hors 34 I. Book One de saison, cete glace qui les saisit par la force d’une ardeur extreme au giron mesme de la joüyssance” [the accidental failing that surprises lovers so unsea- sonably, this freezing that seizes them by the force of extreme ardor in the very lap of enjoyment] (I: 2, 13ab, DM 11; 7). Montaigne added the words I have italicized in 1588. The sexual context of this giron14 clashes intrigu- ingly with the devotional context of an answering giron in “Des prières”: “la loi divine  .  .  .  nous appelle à soy, ainsi fautier et detestables comme nous sommes: elle nous tend les bras et nous reçoit en son giron, pour vilains, ords et bourbeux que nous soyons” [divine law . . . calls us to herself, sinful and detestable as we are; she stretches out her arms and receives us in her lap, no matter how vile, filthy, and besmirched we are] (I: 56, 325a, DM 489; 236*). Instead of praying even memorized prayers insincerely with “l’ame pleine de concupiscence, non toucheé de repentance” [our soul full of lust, untouched by repentance] (I: 56, 325a, DM 489; 236), we should simply crawl into that lap, and be suitably grateful that God pardons us. God as a mother with outstretched arms and a waiting lap is now (beginning in 1588) paralleled by a mistress with an equally welcoming lap, though it waits in vain. In 1582 Montaigne made an addition to the beginning of I: 56: “Je pro- pose icy des fantasies informes & irresolues, comme font ceux qui publient des questions doubteuses à debattre aux escoles” [I put forward formless and unresolved notions, as do those who publish doubtful questions to debate in the schools] (I: 56, 317a’; 229).15 He doubtless inserted these introductory remarks (which continue beyond the passage quoted here) to mollify the Papal censor, who had objected to what he had written in this chapter about the inefficacy of any prayer other than the Lord’s Prayer. Yet now the begin- ning of this chapter also echoes the end of I: 2, with its account of Diodorus the dialectician who died of shame “pour en son eschole & en public ne se pouvoir desveloper d’un argument qu’on luy avoit faict” [in his own school and in public not being able to refute an argument that had been put to him] (I: 2, 14a, DM 12; 8). We have seen that the two chapters talk about the same thing; do they also talk about it in opposite ways, as do I: 1 and I: 57? Indeed, and by repeating a certain word. In the first example in “De la tristesse” of an emo- tion too great to be expressed, Psammenitus remained motionless and mute 14. And of this jouissance; elsewhere in the Essays, jouir can mean to have an orgasm: “Amasis, Roy d’Egypte, espousa Laodice tresbelle fille Grecque: et luy . . . se trouva court à jouir d’elle, et menaça de la tuer, estimant que ce fust quelque sorcerie” [Amasis, king of Egypt, married Laodice, a very beautiful Greek girl; and he . . . fell short when it came to enjoying her, and threatened to kill her, thinking it was some sort of sorcery] (I: 21, 101c; 71). 15. Essais. Reproduction photographique de la deuxième édition (Bordeaux 1582) (Paris: Société des Textes Français Modernes, 2005), 296. I. Book One 35 when his daughter was led away, and when his son was taken out to be killed, “se maintint en cete mesme contenance” [he maintained the same counte- nance] (I: 2, 11a, DM 7; 6*), which is to say that his countenance commu- nicated nothing at all. And a painter chose to represent Iphigenia’s father with his face covered, “comme si nulle contenance ne pouvoit representer ce degré de deuil” [as if no countenance could represent that degree of grief ] (I: 2,12a, DM 9; 6). In both instances, the countenance does not communicate, whether from taciturnity or invisibility. In “Des prieres,” a countenance is likewise associated with a failure to communicate: “Nous prions par usage et par coustume: ou, pour mieus dire, nous lisons ou prononçons nos pri- eres: ce n’est en fin, que contenance” [We pray out of habit and custom, or to speak more correctly, we read or pronounce our prayers. It is, in the end, but countenance] (I: 56, 319a, DM 484; 230–31*). Prayer is communication with God, but here merely reading or pronouncing prayers is said to be mere countenance, undertaken by someone only pretending to pray and therefore not really communicating. It is all appearance, and is thus the opposite of Agamemnon’s countenance because his was entirely invisible, and communi- cated his grief all the better for that reason. In a post-1588 alteration contenance in the I: 56 passage just quoted became mine [“outward show” or “facial expression”]. But in the meantime, two other contenances had appeared in I: 56, as Montaigne kept tinkering with the text. The first to be added, in 1588,16 appears in a passage whose sense parallels that of the passage just quoted about prayers spoken from habit which are nothing more than countenance: “Il semble à la verité, que nous nous servons de nos prieres, comme ceux qui emploient les paroles sainctes & divines à des sorceleries & effectz magiciens, & que nous facions nostre conte que ce soit de la contexture, ou son, ou suite des motz, ou de nostre contenance, que depende leur effect” [It seems, in truth, that we use our prayers like those who use holy and divine words for sorceries and magical effects; and that we count on their effect depending on the texture, sound, or sequence of the words, or on our countenance] (I: 56, 325ab, DM 489; 236*). The words “ou de nostre contenance” are those added in 1588. This passage is fascinating for the way it seems to allude to the phenom- enon of which it is an instance, the repetition of words from one chapter to another—the common contexture linking chapters like these through the repetition of the word itself contenance. Montaigne’s zeal for using the same prayer (the Lord’s Prayer) on all sorts of different occasions and contexts now seems self-referential too, for that is what he does with particular words and 16. Villey incorrectly dates it from 1580. 36 I. Book One “suite[s] des mots,” from outre and prescript in the previous pair of chapters to countenance here. A third contenance appears in the following 1588 passage, concerning the proper use of the Psalms: “et y apporter le corps mesme disposé en contenance qui tesmoigne une particuliere attention et reverence” [and always bring even the body disposed in a countenance that bears witness to a particular atten- tiveness and reverence] (I: 56, 321b; 232*). In opposition to the uncom- municative countenances of Psammenitus and Agamemnon, this one does communicate; in contrast to the other two in “Des prieres,” it is sincere. To sum up, to the presence in I: 2 of a missing contenance (in the depic- tion of Agamemnon’s grief ) I: 56 responds with a complicated series of tex- tual changes in which contenances gradually appear and disappear, and whose expressive power is, ironically, problematic. 3. something to Hide “Nos affections s’emportent au dela de nous” [Our feelings carry themselves beyond us] (I: 3) and “Des senteurs” [Of smells] (I: 55) In I: 3 Montaigne writes of posthumous concerns such as the belief that celestial favors “nous accompaignent au tombeau, & continuent à nos rel- iques” [accompany us to the tomb, and continue with our remains] (I: 3, 18a, DM 13; 10*). He cites, in 1580 (adding more later), the cases of: the defeated defenders of a besieged fortress being obliged to carry out the keys of the city on the body of the deceased commander of the siege; an argument over whether it was seemly to ask for safe conduct through enemy territory to carry the body of the Venetian commander to Venice, since in life he would never have been afraid of his enemies; King Edward I of England requesting that after his death his bones be carried onto the battlefield “comme si la destinée avoit fatalement ataché la victoire à ses membres” [as if destiny had fatally attached victory to his limbs] (I: 3, 18a, DM 14; 11); and Captain Bayard, who when mortally wounded had his steward set him at the base of a tree facing the enemy. Montaigne then provides (and in the 1580 edition concludes the chapter with) an “exemple aussi remerquable pour cete con- sideration, que nul des precedens” [example as remarkable for the present consideration as any of the preceding ones], that of the Emperor Maximilian, who had many great qualities, including physical beauty. But unlike most kings, who are not averse to conducting official business while seated on the I. Book One 37 toilet, he would let no one see him in that situation. He would even urinate in private, “aussi religieux qu’une fille à ne descouvrir ny à medecin ny à qui que ce fut les parties qu’on a accoustumé de tenir cachées : & jusques à telle superstition, qu’il ordonna par parolles expresses de son testament, qu’on luy attachat des calessons quand il seroit mort” [as scrupulous as a virgin not to uncover, either to a doctor or to anyone else whatever, the parts that are cus- tomarily kept hidden: and to such a point of superstition that he ordered in so many words in his will that they should put underdrawers on him when he was dead] (I: 3, 18–19a, DM 16; 11*). This piquant anecdote finds lexical and situational parallels in the fol- lowing passage from “Des senteurs” (comprising a fourth of the fewer than two hundred words that made up that chapter in 1580): “La plus parfaicte senteur d’une femme c’est ne sentir à rien. Et les bonnes senteurs estran- gieres, on a raison de les tenir pour suspectes à ceus qui s’en servent, & d’estimer qu’elles soient emploiées pour couvrir quelque defaut naturel de ce costé là” [The most perfect smell for a woman is to smell of nothing. And perfumes are rightly considered suspicious in those who use them, and thought to be used to cover up some natural defect in that quarter] (I: 55, 314a, DM 481; 228). Some “défaut naturel” is what one could reasonably conclude Maximilian to have had and to have wanted to conceal. In that light, what the emperor refused to descouvrir parallels what perfumes are used to couvrir. “Des senteurs” closed with the following Latin quotation in 1580 (and continued to include it in subsequent editions): “Posthume non bene olet, qui bene semper olet” [Postumus, one does not smell good who always smells good] (I: 55, 314a, DM 481; 228*). Considering that chapter I: 3 is about what happens after death, it is an interesting coincidence that Martial, the poet whose line Montaigne is citing, was addressing someone who hap- pened to be named Postumus, the superlative of the adverb post in Latin, meaning a last-born male child. Martial (ca. 38–104 c.e.) spelled it with- out the h; Montaigne in quoting him spells it with.17 The word was “in late Latin written posthumus through erroneous attribution to humus the earth or (as explained by Servius [ca. 420 c.e.]) humare to bury” (Oxford English 17. Here is Martial’s epigram, whose fourth line Montaigne quotes: Esse quid hoc dicam, quod olent tua basia murram / Quodque tibi est numquam non alienus odor? / Hoc mihi suspectum est, quod oles bene, Postume, semper: / Postume, non bene olet qui bene semper olet [What am I to un- derstand from the circumstance, that your kisses always smell of myrrh, and that you never have about you an odor other than unnatural? That you always smell so agreeably, Postumus, makes me suspect that you have something to conceal. He does not smell pleasantly, Postumus, who always smells pleas- antly] (Martial, Epigrams. Book 2. Bohn’s Classical Library (1897) at http://www.tertullian.org/fathers/ martial_epigrams_book02.htm). 38 I. Book One Dictionary). Humare becomes in French inhumer, a verb that appears twice in I: 3, and nowhere else: (1) in a 1588 addition: “par les loix Grecques, celuy qui demandoit à l’ennemy un corps pour l’inhumer, renonçait à la victoire” [by Greek laws he who asked the enemy for a body to bury it renounced the victory] (I: 3, 17b; 10); (2) in a post-1588 addition: the Athenians executed their captains because after a naval victory they pursued the enemy rather than “recueillir et inhumer leurs morts” [gather up and bury their dead] (I: 3, 20c; 13). These occurrences of the verb intimately connected to the h in “Posthume” as Montaigne spells it are part of the fabric of intratextual connections that he continued to create between his symmetrically paired chapters in successive editions. The last line of “Des senteurs” in the first edition uncannily combines the posthumous nature of those affections that “s’emportent au dela de nous,” in other words the entire argument of I: 3, with the argument and theme of I: 55. This is true even though the con- texts—posthumous effects and smells—would seem at first glance to have nothing at all to do with each other. The posthumous concerns listed in I: 3 are presented as absurdities, par- ticularly as they culminate in Maximilian’s insistence on being buried in underpants. Montaigne remarks that the latter should have added a codi- cil to his will, that whoever attach them to his corpse be blindfolded. The idea that celestial favors accompany us to the tomb and continue with our remains is in Montaigne’s estimation wrong. Such favor may have existed in life for some but they do not persist beyond it, and are not, as Edward I seemed to have thought, destined to remain attached to our bones. “Des sen- teurs,” however, offers a concrete, material case of something that originates in a body yet does persist beyond it: senteurs. The 1588 edition develops this opposition between a persistence that isn’t (in I: 3) and a persistence that is (in I: 55) and a post-1588 addition develops it still more. A 1588 addition to I: 55 enriches the comparison by creating verbal echoes with the other chap- ter: “Quelque odeur que ce soit, c’est merveille combien elle s’attache à moy, et combien j’ay la peau propre à s’en abreuver. Celuy qui se plaint de nature, desquoy elle a laissé l’homme sans instrument à porter les senteurs aux nez, a tort, car elles se portent elles mesmes” [Whatever the odor is, it is a marvel how it attaches itself to me and how apt my skin is to imbibe it. He who complains of nature that she has left man without an instrument to carry smells to his nose is wrong, for they carry themselves] (I: 55, 315b; 228*). That smells “se portent elles mesmes” [carry themselves] places them in paral- lel with the affections that in I: 3’s title “s’emportent” [carry themselves away]. That Montaigne in this passage should focus on the portability of smells is a I. Book One 39 direct invitation to read this chapter in tandem with I: 3, for in the instances he cites there that verb keeps insisting: 1. The defeated citizens of Rancon were obliged to “porter les clefs de la place sur le corps” [carry the keys to the city on the body] (I: 3, 17a, DM 12; 10*) of their dead enemy. 2. A fellow officer was opposed to asking the enemy’s permission to “raporter” [carry back] the body of Bartolomeo Alviano through enemy territory to Venice (I: 3, 17a, DM 12; 10). 3. Edward I gave instructions to “porter” [carry] his bones into every battle against the Scots (I: 3, 18a, DM 14; 10–11). To these from 1580 Montaigne added two more in 1588: 4. John Vischa wanted his followers to make a drum out of his skin to “porter” [carry] into battle (I: 3, 18b; 11). 5. There were Indians who “portoient” [carried] one of their captains’ bones into combat against the Spaniards (I: 3, 18b; 11). In the first sentence of the passage quoted above I italicize “s’atache” [attaches itself ] as well. Here’s why: when Montaigne writes of King Edward I of England requesting that after his death his bones be carried onto the battlefield he adds this remark: “comme si la destinée avoit fatalement ataché la victoire à ses membres” [as if destiny had fatally attached victory to his limbs] (I: 3, 18a, DM 14; 11). Odors are not only, as some believe posthu- mous powers to be, portable; like them, they are attachable as well. The word play extends to the other instance of attaching in I: 3, Maxi- milian’s demand “qu’on luy attachat des calessons quand il seroit mort” [that one attach underdrawers on him when he died] (I: 3, 19a, DM 16; 11*). The connection is to the covering role those attachable drawers would play, for smells can cover too, as we have seen: “les bonnes senteurs estrangieres, on a raison de les tenir pour suspectes a ceus qui s’en servent, & d’estimer qu’elles soient emploiées pour couvrir quelque defaut naturel de ce costé la” [per- fumes are rightly considered suspicious in those who use them, and thought to be used to cover up some natural defect in that quarter] (I: 55, 314a, DM 481; 314). Montaigne made a distinction between his first two examples in I: 3 (the surrender of Rancon and Bartolomeo Alviano) and his third (Edward I, who wanted his bones carried onto future battlefields): “Les premiers ne reservent 40 I. Book One au tombeau, que la reputation acquise par leurs actions passées: mais cetuy cy y veut encore trainer la puissance d’agir” [The first examples reserve for the tomb only the reputation acquired by their past actions; but the latter wants to include as well the power to act] (I: 3, 18a, DM 14; 11*). In the passage added to I: 55 in 1588 in which he shows that odors have the same portability divine favor is claimed to have in I: 3 he goes on to explain how, like the victory attached to Edward I’s bones, it has the power to act: “Les medecins pourroient, croi-je, tirer des odeurs plus d’usage qu’ils ne font: car j’ay souvent aperçeu qu’elles me changent, et agissent en mes esprits selon qu’elles sont” [The doctors might, I believe, derive more use from odors than they do; for I have often noticed that they change me and act upon my spirits according to their properties] (I: 55, 315b; 229*). He cites incense in churches, which has the power to awaken and purify the senses, leading us to contemplation. It is as if the parallel chapters were engaged over the years and through successive editions in a continuing conversation, as additions in one reply to things said in the other. We already saw instances of this in the previous pairing, I: 2 and I: 56, finding alterations that added still more instances of contenance to I: 56 as if in response to those in I: 2. So far we have seen this happen in the case of porter, s’attacher, and agir (with I: 3 even appearing to respond with two more instances of porter to I: 55’s reply to its first three instances). It happens again in a post-1588 addition to I: 3 that appears to echo two other words from the I: 55 passage just quoted, changer and selon: “nature nous faict voir, que plusieurs choses mortes ont encore des relations occultes à la vie. Le vin s’altere aux caves, selon aucunes mutations des sai- sons de sa vigne. Et la chair de venaison change d’estat aux saloirs et de goust, selon les loix de la chair vive, à ce qu’on dit” [nature shows us that many dead things still have occult relations to life. Wine alters in the cellars according to certain seasonal changes in its vine. And venison changes its condition and flavor in the salting tubs according to the laws of the live flesh, so they say] (I: 3, 21c; 13). Though both the preposition selon and the verb changer are so common that one or the other of them can be found in almost any chap- ter, they appear in the same sentence only here, in this late addition to I: 3, and in the passage in I: 55 where Montaigne says that odors “me changent, et agissent en mes esprits selon qu’elles sont” [change me and act upon my spirits according to their properties] (I: 55, 315b; 229*). The conversation continues, as well as the metafiction: like the dead and living venison chapters 3 and 55 have an occult relation to each other, each changing according to [selon] changes that occur in the other. I. Book One 41 4. Frivolous and Vain “Comme l’ame descharge ses passions sur des objects faux, quand les vrais luy defaillent” [How the soul discharges its passions on false objects when the true are lacking] (I: 4) and “Des vaines subtilitez” [Of vain subtleties] (I: 54) As Michel Butor points out (Essais sur les Essais, 164), “Des vaines subtilitez” (I: 54) is the central chapter of the Essays’ 107 (57 + 37 + 13), even though the last 13 chapters, comprising Book Three, would not appear until 1588. Yet Montaigne could have already envisioned that there would be 13 more chapters to complete the 94 in the first two books. In fact, there is evidence that he was aware in writing I: 54 that it would become the numerical center of the whole: 1. The last sentence of the chapter places the Essays themselves in a mid- dle position, suggesting that the chapter itself could be a microcosm of the whole: “si ces essais estoient dignes qu’on en jugeat, il en pourroit advenir à mon advis, qu’ilz ne plairoient guiere aus espritz grossiers & ignorans, ny guiere aus delicatz & savans. Ceux la ny entendroint pas assez, ceux cy y entendroient trop, ils trouveroient place entre ces deux extremitez” [if these essays were worthy of being judged, it seems to me that they would hardly please gross and ignorant minds nor delicate and scholarly ones either. The former would not understand enough; the latter would understand too much. They would find a place between these two extremities] (I: 54, 313a, DM 480; 227*).18 Montaigne made two successive changes to the very last words, each of which intensified this centering effect. The first change was to add the phrase “ils trouveroient place entre ces deux extremités,” which did not appear on page 480 of the 1580 but among the errata in the front of the book (“Les plus insignes fautes survenues en l’impression du premier livre” [The most egregious errors arising in the printing of the first book]). Of all the fautes it is by the far the most substantial, the other twenty-nine concerning only commas, periods, or the addition or alteration of at most one or two words at a time. The only erratum that is an entire sentence, it looks less like a printer’s error than an author’s afterthought. In any case, he apparently wanted to make sure these last words, which so curiously seem to allude to the chapter itself, would not get left out of his text. He had 18. In 1582 Montaigne replaced “aus espritz grossiers & ignorans, ny guiere aus delicatz & savans” by “aux espritz communs & vulgaires, ni guiere aux singuliers & excellens” [common and vulgar minds, nor singular and excellent ones] (DM 480n). 42 I. Book One another afterthought in 1582, when he changed these words to “Ils pour- roient vivoter en la moyenne region” [They might be able to get by in the middle region]. Of these two changes the first (“ils trouveroient place entre ces deux extremitez”) situated the Essays between two extremities; the second (“Ils pourroient vivoter en la moyenne region”) placed them not just some- where between two extremes but more precisely in the middle. 2. This middle chapter is a chapter about middles—middles between extremes that touch. Montaigne writes that at his house he and his friends had just been trying to see who could think of the greatest number of things “qui se tiennent par les deux boutz estremes” [that are connected by two extremes], such as the title “Sire,” used only for kings and the lower social levels, nowhere in-between; similarly, “Dames.” He cites Democritus’s opin- ion that gods and beasts have senses more acute then men, “qui sont au moyen estage” [who are on the middle level] (I: 54, 311a, DM 577; 226*). Sometimes the middle is a good place to be: “La foiblesse qui nous vient de froideur & desgoutement aux exercices de Venus, elle nous vient aussi d’un appetit trop vehement & d’une chaleur desreglée” [The incapacity that comes over us in the sports of Venus from lack of ardor and loss of attrac- tion comes as well from too vehement a desire and an unruly lust] (I: 54, 312a; DM 477–78; 226*). “L’enfance & la decrepitude se rencontrent en imbecilité de cerveau. L’avarice & la profusion en pareil desir d’attirer & d’acquerir” [Infancy and decrepitude meet in weakness of the brain; avarice and extravagance, in a like desire to take and acquire] (I: 54, 312a, DM 479; 226). Sometimes the middle is a bad place to be: La bestise & la sagesse se rencontrent en mesme point de gout & de resolu- tion à la souffrance des accidens humains. Les sages gourmandent & com- mandent le mal, & les autres l’ignorent. Ceux cy sont, par maniere de dire, au deça des accidens : les autres au dela, lesquels apres en avoir bien poisé & consideré les qualitez, les avoir mesurez & jugez telz qu’ils sont, ils s’eslan- cent au dessus par force d’un vigoreus courage. . . . L’ordinaire & moyenne condition des hommes loge entre ces deux extremitez, qui est de ceuz qui aperçoivent les maux, les goustent, & ne les peuvent supporter. [Stupidity and wisdom meet at the same point of feeling and of resolving to endure human accidents. The wise curb and control the evil; the oth- ers are not aware of it. The latter are, so to speak, on this side of accidents, the former beyond them; for the wise man, after having well weighed and considered their qualities and measured and judged them for what they are, I. Book One 43 springs above them by the power of a vigorous courage. . . . The ordinary and middle condition of men lodges between these two extremes, which is that of those who perceive evils, feel them, and cannot endure them.] (I: 54, 312a, DM 478–79; 226*)19 3. In I: 54 Montaigne refers to the overall shape of certain literary texts. “Nous voyons des oeufz, des boules, des aisles, des haches façonnées anciene- ment par les Grecs avec la mesure de leurs vers en les alongeant ou accour- sissant: en maniere qu’ilz viennent à representer telle ou telle figure” [We see eggs, balls, wings, hatchets, shaped by the Greeks of old with the measure of their verses, by lengthening some lines and shortening others so as to repre- sent one or another of these figures] (I: 54, 311a, DM 475; 225). In aligning his chapters in symmetrical pairs so that within each book those extremes touch, Montaigne gives a certain form to his Essays. What that form resem- bles is not a physical object like an egg or a hatchet but what he goes on to describe in “Des vaines subtilitez”: extremes that meet and a middle that is sometimes valorized and sometimes put into question. This is most readily apparent in Book One, whose middle is unlike any other chapter and is pre- sented as a text by another hand, and one which turned up at the last minute by chance. Later on, in “De la vanité,” Montaigne would speak of the overall form of the Essays thus: Mon livre est tousjours un. Sauf qu’à mesure qu’on se met à le renouvel- ler, afin que l’acheteur ne s’en aille les mains du tout vuides, je me donne loy d’y attacher (comme ce n’est qu’une marqueterie mal jointe), quelque embleme supernumeraire. Ce ne sont que surpoids, qui ne condamnent point la premiere forme, mais donnent quelque pris particulier à chacune des suivantes par une petite subtilité ambitieuse. De là toutesfois il advien- dra facilement qu’il s’y mesle quelque transposition de chronologie, mes contes prenans place selon leur opportunité, non tousjours selon leur aage. 19. Bernard Sève, in “Les ‘vaines subtilitez’: Montaigne et le renversement du pour au contre,” Montaigne Studies 16.1–2 (March 2004): 185–96), seems not to have realized that this passage appears in the 1580 version, which he criticizes for lacking “the idea of a passage from one healthy situation to another healthy situation by traversing a vain one” (194), a “dialectic’ he finds in certain post-1588 additions. For the wise were once ignorant, as all are in infancy, and then like most men aware and troubled by the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, but progressed beyond that middle position by their intelligence and courage. Sève also misrepresents Montaigne in the 1580 version when he claims that although he mentions the intermediate zone there “it is not this zone that interests him there but what interests him is the topos of the extremes that touch” (193). But as we have seen, Montaigne does pay attention to middle zones in 1580, differentiating between the desirable and the undesirable. 44 I. Book One [My book is always one. Except that at each new edition, so that the buyer may not come off completely empty-handed, I allow myself to add, since it is only a badly joined marquetry, some extra ornaments. These are only overweights, which do not condemn the original form, but give some spe- cial value to each of the subsequent ones, by a bit of ambitious subtlety. Thence, however, it will easily happen that some transposition of chronol- ogy may slip in, for my stories take their place according to their timeliness, not always according to their age.] (III: 9, 964c; 736*) It is a marqueterie, “un ouvrage de menuiserie, composé de feuilles de dif- férents bois plaquées sur un assemblage, et représentant diverses figures, ou d’autres ornements” [a piece of woodwork composed of veneers of different woods affixed to a structure and representing various figures or ornaments] (Littré ).20 The number of chapters does not change; additions do not become new chapters but are added within existing ones, without destroying the original form. Despite his denigration of “vaines subtilitez” in I: 54, in this passage he reveals that he delights in incorporating from time to time “une petite subtilité ambitieuse.” His anecdotes are placed where they are by their “opportunité,” not their chronology. He writes, for example, of texts whose components are lengthened and shortened to fit an overall pattern in I: 54, for it is there that the opportunity presents itself to allude to such subtleties, as well as to middles between extremes that meet, in the central chapter of the Essays’ 107. Montaigne shortened and lengthened too, like the poets he pretends to criticize: to produce three volumes of roughly equal size despite the second volume having 35% fewer chapters than the first, the third having 65% fewer than the second and 77% fewer than the first, he made most of the 13 chapters of the third volume much longer than those in the preced- ing volumes, and he made one chapter in the second volume, the immense “Apologie de Raimond Sebond” (II: 12), 22 times longer than the average of the volume’s other chapters. 20. In “What does Montaigne mean by ‘marqueterie’?,” Studies in Philology 67. 2 (1970): 147–55, Barbara Bowen cites engravings of Androuet du Cerceau dating from about 1560 as evidence that Montaigne could have been familiar with floors constructed of marqueterie featuring complicated sym- metrical and circular patterns. These engravings may be viewed at http://architectura.cesr.univ-tours.fr/ Traite/Images/INHA-4R84BIndex.asp. Bowen suggests that the composition of each of the chapters is circular: “these patterns are strikingly reminiscent of the structure of an essai. If you select one line and follow it through the pattern, its progress seems to have no logic or symmetry, but if you stand back and consider the overall effect it is obvious that every line and shape is necessary to the symmetry of the whole. It is very tempting indeed to assume that Montaigne is thinking of a pattern of this type when he uses the word marqueterie” (154). But one needs to stand back at an even greater distance to see what Montaigne was actually alluding to, the symmetry of each of the Essays’ three books. I. Book One 45 4. There is a mathematical reason that suggests, apart from what Mon- taigne wrote in “Des vaines subtilitez,” that he had already decided before the 1580 edition appeared that he would write 13 more chapters. It is not the reason Butor gave, which is far from convincing. Butor’s argument is based on his notion that Book One “is divided into three principal regions, whose articulations are chapters 19 and 39” (129). He arrives at this conclusion by reading groups of chapters as if they were all about the same thing (as he does with regard to these on pp. 73–74), which is not a good way to read them. He finds three thematic groups of 18 chapters in Book One, not including I: 19, I: 29, and I: 39; he divides Book Two into two groups of 18 chapters separated by II: 19, and Book Three into two groups of 6 separated by III: 7. Then he concludes, “Apart from the middles, the number of chapters in Book Two [36] is equal to ⅔ of those of Book One [54], and that of Book Three [12] to ⅓ of that of Book Two” (Butor’s italics, 174). He is right to see that the three middle chapters (I: 29, II: 19, III: 7) stand apart from the rest, but he is talking about five middles here because he includes I: 19 and I: 39. I have a mathematically based observation of my own to make. It does not attempt to say why the first book has 57 and the second 37, but does suggest why, if those first two numbers have already been selected, the third number should be 13. It is that if we assign A to the number 57, B to 37, and C to 13, B/A + C/B = unity. That is, 37/57 + 13/37 = 1. Unity, one, as in “Mon livre est tousjours un.” There are other trios of numbers that could be plugged in to come up with 1, but if A and B are determined as 57 and 37, then for unity to be achieved C has to be 13.21 21. There is another consideration that I do not present as proof of anything but that is immensely interesting though it has remained, I believe, unknown until now. Rabelais’s Quart Livre (1552), as Edwin M. Duval has shown, is symmetrically constructed (so too, he demonstrates, the Tiers Livre). In the numerical center of the Quart Livre (as in the Essays, the symmetry is determined by the number of chapters and their arrangement), a symmetrical pattern of 107 elements appears, when Pantagruel slays a whale that threatens to sink his fleet: In chapter 34, the numerically central chapter of the book . . . Pantagruel fills the skin of the attacking monster with 107 well-placed harpoons hurled with deadly precision. The first harpoon strikes the beast dead center in the middle of its forehead, at a point equidistant from the second and third harpoons, which pierce its eyes on either side of its head.  .  .  . Pantagruel multiplies patterns in which symmetry around a central point predominate. Between the triangle planted on the forehead and a single harpoon planted in the tail, he places three more harpoons equally spaced along the spine. . . . And around this second triad he constructs yet a third symmetrical pattern in which the three har- poons sticking perpendicularly out of the whale’s back mark the median position between two rows of 50 harpoons placed symmetrically along each flank. That these obvious geo- metrical representations of centered symmetry should appear at the precise numerical midpoint of the Quart Livre, and that Pantagruel should construct exactly three triads in a chapter that is both preceded and followed by exactly thirty-three chapters is impossible 46 I. Book One Although I: 54 is the center of the Essays in their totality, the middle that occupies us here is the one in the center of Book One (I: 29) that makes it possible for such chapters as I: 1, I: 2, and I: 3 to find their counterparts in I: 57, I: 56, and I: 55—and “Des vaines subtilitez” (I: 54) in “Comme l’ame descharge ses passions sur des objects faux, quand les vrais luy defaillent” (I: 4), a title that by itself suggests that I: 4, like I: 54, will concern itself with examples of wasted effort.22 But more than that unites the chapters themati- cally. I: 54 is about extremes that—surprisingly, because of the great distance that separates them—touch. I: 4 is about the need for an object to touch, whether to strike in anger or to embrace in love. A man suffering from gout rejects his doctor’s advice to give up salted meats because, he says, he wanted to know who to get angry at, and in cursing now the beef tongue, now the ham, he feels better. The losing gambler chews up his cards; Xerxes whipped the sea. There must be something to take it out on: “le bras estant haussé pour frapper, il nous deut si le coup ne rencontre” [when the arm is raised to strike, it hurts us if the blow does not hit] (I: 4, 22a, DM 17; 14*). That rencontre encounters its like twice in “Des vaines subtilitez” when “La bestise & la sagesse se rencontrent en mesme point . . . de resolution à la souffrance des accidens humains” [Stupidity and wisdom meet at the same point . . . of resolving to endure human accidents] (I: 54, 312a, DM 478; 226*) and “L’enfance & la decrepitude se rencontrent en imbecilité de cerveau” [Infancy and decrepitude meet in weakness of the brain] (I: 54, 312a, DM 479; 226). This is a self-naming encounter, extremes—separated by the distance of fifty chapters—that meet. Another encounter is completed in the very first sentence of I: 54: “Il est de ces subtilitez frivoles & vaines, par le moyen desquelles les hommes to attribute to chance. Whatever else may be signified by the patterns inscribed on the « Physetere » [the Whale] . . . the sign at the center of the Quart Livre serves first of all to signal the center of the epic with a conspicuous representation of its own median position in the book. (Duval, Quart Livre, 126; emphasis in original) Was Montaigne aware of the Quart Livre’s symmetrical construction and its valorization of the center? Could he have known about the symmetrical arrangement of 107 harpoons? In his one passing mention of Rabelais he calls his books “simplement plaisans” [simply pleasant], like Boccaccio’s Decameron. But what did he really think? It is remarkable in any case that the two greatest prose authors of sixteenth-century France should have created symmetries around the same number. Perhaps it can be chalked up to chance. But just as it was not due to chance that Rabelais should “signal the center” of his book in the center of his book, so too in the case of “Des vaines subtilitez.” It is the center of the Essays and Montaigne signals that fact, particularly when its last line places the book whose middle it is in a certain middle region. 22. Looking for extremes that touch is not presented as wasted effort in I: 54, nor as a vain subtlety. But constructing poems in the shape of eggs and hatchets is, as well as throwing grains of millet through the eye of a needle. I. Book One 47 cerchent quelque fois de la recommandation” [There are those frivolous and vain subtleties by means of which men sometimes seek commendation] (I: 54, 311a, DM 475; 225*). For in I: 4, pet owners who lavish affection on their little dogs because they don’t have a human being to devote their pas- sion to, “à faute de prise legitime, plustost que de demeurer en vain” [lack- ing a legitimate object, rather than remain in vain (that is, remain idle)], their “partie amoureuse  .  .  .  s’en forge ainsi, une faulce & frivole” [loving part . . . thus creates a false and frivolous one] (I: 4, 22a, DM 18; 14*). The first words of I: 54 (“Il est de ces subtilitez frivoles & vaines”) echo not only the “vain  .  .  .  & frivole” of I: 4, but also the last words of Mon- taigne’s address to the reader at the beginning of the Essays: “Ainsi, lecteur, je suis moy-mesme la matiere de mon livre: ce n’est pas raison que tu emploies ton loisir en un subject si frivole & si vain” [Thus, reader, I am myself the matter of my book; you would be unreasonable to spend your leisure on so frivolous and vain a subject] (“Au lecteur,” 3; 2). What Montaigne calls vain subtleties in I: 54—the man throwing millet grains through the eye of a needle, poets who lengthen and shorten their lines for the sake of an overall design, words like “Dame” and “Sire” that meet across great distances—are therefore not to be dismissed as silly and pointless even though he presents them that way, for inasmuch as they are “frivoles & vaines” they are the mat- ter of which the book is composed, consubstantial with its author. Indeed, the parlor game of finding the same word reappearing in distantly separated contexts (and indeed it was a game: “Nous venons presentement de nous joüer chez moy”) duplicates what is going on in the Essays. Montaigne invites his readers to play it too, to look for words that appear in distantly separated chapters and nowhere in between. Thus plomb [lead] can be found in I: 4 and in I: 54 but nowhere between—and nowhere else in Book One. In I: 4 it is one of those true but lacking objects in the chapter’s title that are the true culprits, the real causes of the passions the soul consequently dis- charges on false ones: “Ce ne sont pas ces tresses blondes, que tu deschires, ny la blancheur de cette poitrine, que despite tu bas si cruellement, qui ont perdu d’un mal’heureux plomb ce frere bien aymé: prens t’en ailleurs” [It is not those blond tresses that you are tearing, nor the whiteness of that bosom that in your anger you beat so cruelly, that have made you lose by an unlucky lead bullet that well-loved brother: place the blame elsewhere] (I: 4, 23a, DM 18; 14–15*) (the tresses and bosom are the bereaved’s own, in this extreme expression of grief ). In I: 54 plomb is an element in which extremes meet: “Aristote dict que les cueus de plom se fondent & coulent de froid & de rigu- eur de l’hyver, comme d’une chaleur vehemente” [Aristotle says that pigs of lead will melt and run with the cold and the rigor of winter as with intense 48 I. Book One heat] (I: 54, 312a, DM 478; 226). Like the Sire and Dame that appear in two opposite social strata but nowhere in between, plomb appears in these two distant (though structurally related) chapters and nowhere else in Book One. Thus the plomb in I: 54 is where extremes meet in two different ways, one with regard to what the chapter is talking about, the other with regard to what it does. As do some of the other words I will cite, plomb does appear elsewhere in Montaigne (twice each in Books Two and Three). But it is important to remember that although Books One and Two appeared at the same time in 1580, Montaigne evidently made the decision to present them to the pub- lic as two separate books, each with its own possibilities of structure and subtlety. Why did he not simply issue one book with 94 (57 + 37) chapters? His decision to divide them into two suggests his interest in the form his text would take, a form in which the chapters and their placement would play a role. Separating them into two books made it easier for him to place the two lone appearances of certain words and word combinations in meaningful locations, for it meant he would not have to avoid using them in the other book. We will later see that dividing those 94 into two volumes also had the virtue of allowing him to create two significant centers, I: 29 and II: 19, that will prove to be linked to each other (and to the center of Book Three, III: 7) by the kind of singular lexical echoes that link the symmetrically arranged chapters. Montaigne concludes that extremes that touch are not so rare a phenom- enon as he had first thought: “j’ay trouvé . . . que nous avions pris pour un exercice malaisé & d’un rare subject, ce qui ne l’est aucunement, & qu’apres que nostre invention a esté eschaufée, elle descouvre un nombre infiny de pareilz exemples” [I have found . . . that we had taken for a difficult exercise and a rare subject what is not so at all; and that after our inventiveness has been warmed up, it discovers an infinite number of similar examples] (I: 54, 313a, DM 479; 227*). The word subject, treated this way, is in fact rare, for the only other place in 1580 where it is preceded by an indefinite article and an adjective is I: 4: “Nous voyons que l’ame en ses passions se pipe plustost elle mesme se dressant un faux subject & fantastique, voire contre sa propre creance, que de n’agir contre quelque chose. Quelles causes n’inventons nous des mal’heurs, qui nous adviennent?” [We see that the soul in its passions will sooner deceive itself by setting up a false subject and a fantastical one, even contrary to its own belief, than not act against something. What causes do we not invent for the misfortunes that befall us?] (I: 4, 22a, DM 18; 14*). Particularly striking is the combination in both passages of “un + adjective I. Book One 49 + subject” with “n’inventons nous” and “nostre invention.” The passage in I: 54 (“qu’apres que nostre invention a esté eschaufée, elle descouvre un nombre infiny de pareilz exemples”) now reveals a self-referential dimension, for it is itself one of those “pareilz exemples” of extremes that touch. At the very moment that Montaigne writes “nostre invention” he is creating an instance of distantly spaced words that touch.23 5. in or Out “Si le chef d’une place assiegée doit sortir pour parlementer” [Whether the head of a besieged place should go out to parley] (I: 5) and “D’un mot de Caesar” [On a saying of Caesar’s] (I: 53) Each of these chapters focuses on an assertion presented as having attained the status of a proverb. In I: 5 it is this: “c’est une reigle en la bouche de tous les hommes de guerre de nostre temps, qu’il ne faut jamais que le gouverneur en une place assiegée sorte luy memes pour parlementer” [it is a rule in the mouth of all military men of our time, that the governor of a besieged place must never go out himself to parley] (I: 5, 26a, DM 21–22; 17*). In I: 53 it is what Caesar said: “Il se faict par un vice ordinaire de nature, que nous ayons & plus de fiance & plus de crainte des choses que nous n’avons pas veu & qui sont cachées & inconnues” [It happens by a common vice of nature that we have both more trust and more fear of things that we have not seen and that are hidden and unknown] (I: 53, 310a, DM 475; 225*)—I am quoting Montaigne’s own translation as given in the 1580 and 1588 editions. Both sayings give the same advice, though in different contexts: stay inside. Stay inside yourself (I: 5); stay inside the fort (I: 53). Montaigne quotes Caesar at the end of this brief chapter to support the argument he has been making since the beginning that we spend too much time trying to know things that are “hors de nous” [outside us] (I: 53, 309a, DM 473; 224). We are never satisfied with what “tombe en nostre connois- sance & jouissance” [falls within our knowledge and enjoyment] but instead “allons beant apres les choses avenir & inconues, d’autant que les presentes ne nous soulent pas” [we go gaping after things to come and unknown, inas- 23. As Ian Maclean points out, I: 54 is itself a “mise en abyme” in its “relationship . . . to the Essais as a whole; the chapter could be construed as an example of subtilité denouncing subtilité in a work of subtilité denouncing subtilité” (p. 149 of “Montaigne, Cardano: The Reading of Subtlety/The Subtlety of Reading,” French Studies 37.2 [1983]: 143–56). 50 I. Book One much as things present do not satiate us] (I: 53, 309a, DM 474; 225). Caesar was not speaking in a military context, despite his professional expertise in that domain, but was making an observation about human behavior in gen- eral. Yet his remark finds specific application in the military context to which I: 5 is devoted, where what is at issue is the grave risk one runs in going out- side of one’s domain in a literal way, outside of the fortress one is charged with defending. As Montaigne’s examples show, treachery lurks; capture or worse may ensue for the governor of a besieged fortress who, however briefly, leaves the protecting walls behind. But there are occasions when the conflicting claims of fear and trust can balance each other out. That is what Henry de Vaux discovered when he decided to accept the besieger’s invitation to come out and parley, for when he did, the enemy pointed out to him the extent to which his castle had been mined with explosives, set to go off at the touch of a spark. De Vaux “s’en sentit singulierement obligé à l’ennemy, à la discretion duquel apres qu’il se fut rendu & sa trouppe, le feu estant mis à la mine les estansons de bois venant à faillir le chasteau fut emporté de fons en comble” [ felt remarkably obliged to the enemy, to whose discretion he surrendered himself and his forces. After this, the fire was set to the mine, the wooden props began to fail, and the castle was demolished from top to bottom] (I: 5, 27a, DM 23–24; 17*). These, the last words of I: 5 in 1580, echo some of the first words of I: 53: Si nous nous amusions par fois à nous considerer, & le temps que nous mettons à contreroller autruy & à connoistre les choses qui sont hors de nous, que nous l’amploissions a nous sonder nous mesmes, nous sentirions aisément combien toute cète nostre contexture est bastie de pieces foibles & defaillantes. [If we sometimes spent a little consideration on ourselves, and employed in probing ourselves the time we put into checking up on others and learning about things that are outside us, we would easily sense how much this fabric of ours is built up of feeble and failing pieces.] (I: 53, 309a, DM 473; 224) Having decided to “sortir” [come out], de Vaux “s’en sentit” [felt] obliged to the enemy for informing him that what was holding up his castle was about to “faillir” [fail], the besiegers “ayant par dehors fait sapper la plus part du chasteau” [having from the outside sapped the greater part of the castle] (I: I. Book One 51 5, 27a, DM 23; 17*). The same words reappear when just the opposite hap- pens in I: 53: if we were to decide to stop investigating the things that are “hors” [outside] us, and instead remained inside ourselves, we “sentirions” [would sense] the alarming extent to which our fabric, our inner structure, is about to collapse because it is constructed out of “defaillantes” [failing] pieces. In both situations, the fabric—de Vaux’s castle, our “contexture”—is about to collapse because of its “pièces défaillantes,” but de Vaux had to come out to discover the imminent collapse while we have to stop going out. He had to look at the structure from the outside; we have to look at it from within. In 1588 Montaigne intensified the connections between these chapters by adding this sentence to the end of I: 5, by way of commentary on the de Vaux episode: “Je me fie ayseement à la foy d’autruy, mais mal-aiseement le fairoi je lors que je donrois à juger l’avoir plustost faict par desespoir & faute de coeur, que par franchise, & fiance de sa loyauté” [I put my trust easily in another man’s word. But I should do so reluctantly whenever I would give the impression of acting from despair and want of courage rather than freely and through trust in his honesty] (I: 5, 27b; 17). This new final sentence of I: 5 sets up a parallel with the final sentence of I: 53, Montaigne’s translation into French of what Caesar said: “Il se faict par un vice ordinaire de nature, que nous ayons & plus de fiance & plus de crainte des choses que nous n’avons pas veu & qui sont cachées & inconnues” [It happens by a common vice of nature that we have both more trust and more fear of things that we have not seen and that are hidden and unknown] (I: 53, 310a, DM 475; 225*). The fiance in Montaigne’s translation of Caesar’s “mot” is now anticipated by the fiance of the new last words of I: 5, but even more than that, the fear, the crainte, against which Caesar balanced that trust has its parallel too, the faute de coeur. Montaigne’s translation makes Caesar’s two terms more nearly alike than they were in the original, thereby enhancing the parallel with the dilemma the equally balanced demands of fear and faith impose upon the governor of a besieged place who wonders whether he should go out to par- ley. Caesar’s “we trust more, and fear more violently [magis confidamus, vehe- mentiusque exterramur]” Montaigne renders as “nous ayons et plus de fiance et plus de crainte” [we have both more trust and more fear]. It is as if Caesar had written “magisque” instead of “vehementiusque” as the adverb modifying “exterramur.” Trust and fear are not on an equal basis in what Caesar wrote, but they are in Montaigne’s translation, the better to support the parallel with the other chapter. 52 I. Book One 6. trouble Back Home “L’heure des parlemens dangereuse” [Parley time is dangerous] (I: 6) and “De la parsimonie des anciens” [On the parsimony of the ancients] (I: 52) Given its brevity, “De la parsimonie des anciens,” the shortest chapter in the Essays (257 words in 1580,24 with 28 added in 1588), seems to imitate the thrift it discusses: “a simple and brief enumeration of examples of the modest lifestyle of some great men of antiquity,” according to Alexandre Tar- rête, whose “dryness and concision seem perfectly adapted to this theme.”25 By itself it could indeed seem wanting. George Hoffmann is probably not alone in finding it “totally inadequate.  .  .  . As if anticipating revision that never came, this chapter remains in the larva-like state of the leçon, a Renais- sance exercise of collecting quotations and material for future use. . . . [N]o critique, reflection, or personal anecdote ever transformed these notes on parsimony into a full-fledged essay. Clearly, he was not trying to write a mas- terpiece in the traditional sense of the term.”26 But if Montaigne’s masterpiece is something larger than any separate chapter, perhaps the answer to the ques- tion that reading I: 52 poses—Is this all there is?—is no. As with the other chapter pairs, I: 52 will likely make more sense when read with its other half, I: 6. At first glance, however, the latter is hard to distinguish from I: 5, for both are about the dangers of parleying with a besieging enemy. Their continuity is obvious from the first word of I: 6: “Toutes-fois” [However] (I: 6, 28a, DM 24; 18) and from Montaigne say- ing early on in that chapter “comme je viens de dire” [as I have just said] (I: 6, 28a, DM 24; 18), sending the reader back to something he had just said in I: 5. This continuity poses a challenge to the commonplace notion that the textual unit to be analyzed is the individual chapter, as André Tournon acknowledges: “We will accept, except for occasional proof of the contrary (for example in the case of a syntactical suture between chapters, as there is between I: 5 and I: 6  .  .  .  ), that the objective unit to consider is the chapter.”27 But unless these two chapters about parleying with the enemy can be differentiated from each other it will be impossible to see how I: 6 is more connected to I: 52 than I: 5 is. For Frieda S. Brown there is no difference: 24. Though in 1580, I: 55 (“Des senteurs”) was even shorter. 25. In a note on the chapter in Naya et al., Essais de Michel de Montaigne, I: 694. 26. George Hoffmann, Montaigne’s Career (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1998), 128. Similarly, M. A. Screech finds it a mere compilation “that failed to grow into a larger chapter” (in his translation, 345). 27. Route par ailleurs, 12. He also cites I: 39 and I: 40 as being linked in this way. I. Book One 53 the two chapters “constitute and should be read as a single commentary on the subject.”28 For Tournon there is a difference, but I think he is mistaken about what it is. In a note on I: 5 in his edition of the Essais he writes that while both “treat of the risks in parleys” I: 5 does so “under the practical angle of the precautions one should take” but I: 6 discusses them “from the point of view of the ethics of war” (523). Yet battlefield ethics come up in I: 5 just as much as they do in I: 6. It is in I: 5 for example that Montaigne contrasts the Roman way of war to “la Grecque subtilité et astuce Punique, où le vaincre par force est moins glorieux que par fraude” [Greek subtlety and Punic cunning, according to which it is less glorious to conquer by force than by fraud] (I: 5, 25c; 16). Alexandre Tarrête points out that the same moral questions are raised in both chapters, writing in a note to I: 5, “Are all means legitimate in order to win? What place should be given to trustworthiness in dealings with the enemy? This chapter, like the one that follows it, asks these questions” (in Naya et al., 593). A hint of the real difference between the two can be glimpsed in their titles: “Si le chef d’une place assiegée doit sortir pour parlementer” [Whether the head of a besieged place should go out to parley] (I: 5), where the focus is on a danger faced by one man vs. “L’heure des parlemens dangereuse” [Parley time Is dangerous] (I: 6), where the danger is general. A comparison of the anecdotes told in each brings the difference into clearer focus. Those in I: 5 concern the risk the negotiator runs when negotiating, but those in I: 6 are about what can happen to the city’s inhabitants when he has left them behind to go parley. In I: 5’s first story, the result of Lucius Marcius’ treach- ery against the king of Macedonia, whom he had lulled into a temporary truce, was that “le roy encourut sa derniere ruine” [the king incurred his final ruin] (I: 5, 25a, DM 20; 16). No mention is made of what his subjects may have suffered. When Guy de Rangon, defending his city against the seigneur de l’Escut, went out to parley he remained close enough that when trouble unexpectedly broke out between the armies he could retreat back into the city, and Escut for his own safety went with him under his protection; here too the focus is on the danger to the negotiators (in fact, the danger to the negotiators for both sides). In the same chapter Henri de Vaux, as we saw a few pages ago, was saved from death by coming out to parley. But in I: 6 the focus is placed on what can happen to a besieged city’s inhabitants when they have been left behind by a leader who has gone out 28. On p. 79 of Frieda S. Brown, “«Si le chef d’une place assiegée doit sortir pour parlementer» and «L’heure des parlemens dangereuse»: Montaigne’s Political Morality and Its Expression in the Early Essays.” In O un Amy! Essays on Montaigne in Honor of Donald M. Frame, edited by Raymond C. La Charité (Lexington, KY: French Forum Publishers, 1977), 72–87. 54 I. Book One to parley. In the first anecdote the citizens of Mussidan were cut to pieces by a surprise attack that took place during the negotiations. It was during a parley that the town of Casilinum was taken by surprise (in a post-1588 addition); likewise Capua, Yvoy, Genoa, and Ligny-en-Barrois (in the 1580 and subsequent editions). In fact in some cases the negotiator himself is not under attack, but only the citizens he left behind: Giuliano Romero went out to parley and “trouva au retour sa place saisie” [on his return found his place seized] (I: 6, 29a, DM 26; 19). Likewise, Bertheville “estant sorty pour par- lementer, pendant le parlement la ville se trouva saisie” [went out to parley, and during the bargaining the town was taken] (I: 6, 29a, DM 26; 19*). Civilians left behind when their leader attends to military matters are likewise surprised by treachery in the following anecdote, which is the first and by far the longest told in I: 52, comprising 112 of the chapter’s 257 words, or 44%, in 1580; 39% in 1588. Attilius Regulus general de l’armée Romaine en Afrique, au milieu de sa gloire & de ses victoires contre les Carthaginois, escrivit à la chose publique qu’un valet de labourage qu’il avoit laissé seul au gouvernement de son bien, qui estoit en tout, sept arpens de terre, s’en estoit enfuy, ayant desrobé ses utils de labourage, et demandoit congé pour s’en retourner y pourvoir, de peur que sa femme et ses enfans n’en eussent à souffrir. Le Senat pourveut à commettre un autre à la conduite de ses biens, & luy fit restablir ce qui luy avoit esté desrobé, et ordonna que sa femme et enfans seroient nourris aux despens du public. [Attilius Regulus, general of the Roman army in Africa, in the midst of his glory and his victories against the Carthaginians, wrote to the Repub- lic that a farm laborer whom he had left in sole charge of his estate, which was seven acres of land in all, had run away and stolen his farming tools; and he asked leave to return and look after this matter, for fear that his wife and children would suffer from it. The Senate provided another man to manage his property, caused what had been stolen to be returned to him, and ordered that his wife and children should be maintained at the public expense.] (I: 52, 308a, DM 471; 224) It resembles what happens to Romero and Bertheville in I: 6, whose towns were seized in their absence. It is just the opposite, too, in a couple of ways: (1) the citizens in I: 6 suffered from someone coming into their city, while the family in I: 52 suffered from someone going away; (2) it was “au retour” [on his return] that Romero discovered the damage, while Attilius wanted to I. Book One 55 “retourner” in order to undo the damage. Montaigne would add to the paral- lel in 1588 by characterizing successes due to taking unfair advantage on the battlefield as “des victoires desrobées” [stolen victories] (I: 6, 29b; 19*), setting up an echo with the servant “ayant desrobé ses utilz de labourage” and the Senate’s making good what had been “desrobé.” 7. words, in effect “Que l’intention juge nos actions” [That intention judges our actions] (I: 7) and “De la vanité des paroles” [On the vanity of words] (I: 51) Having alluded to how the Greeks praised the order and arrangement of the feast that Paulus Aemilius gave them after conquering Macedonia, Mon- taigne makes the remark “mais je ne parle point icy des effects, je parle des motz” [But I am not speaking at all here of effects, I am speaking of words] (I: 51, 307a, DM 468; 223*). Before that he had just been telling us about the inflated language in which the maître d’hôtel of a Roman cardinal spoke of his culinary responsibilities: “particularisant les qualitez des ingrediens & leurs effectz  .  .  .  tout cela enflé de riches & magnifiques parolles, & celles mesmes qu’on emploie à traiter du gouvernement d’un empire” [particular- izing the qualities of the ingredients and their effects . . . all this swollen with rich and magnificent words, and the very ones we use to talk about the gov- ernment of an empire] (I: 51, 306a; DM 467–68; 222–23). The “effects” that he says he is not talking about seem to refer to the “effectz” that the maître d’hôtel was speaking of a few lines before. In saying after he had alluded to the feast Paulus Aemilius prepared that he is speaking of “motz” instead of “effects” he seems to confess to wandering from the subject, that he erred in bringing up the Paulus Aemilius anecdote because it wasn’t about words, but only about the effect his banquet had on the Greeks (they liked it). Indeed, he immediately goes back to talking about words, in particular about inflated ones, though here too he will oppose those problematic motz to a certain effect: “Je ne sçay s’il en advient aus autres comme à moy: mais je ne me puis garder quand j’oy noz architectes s’enfler de ces gros motz de palastres, architraves, cornices d’ouvrage Corinthien & Dorique et semblables de leur jargon, que mon imagination ne se saisisse incontinent du palais d’Apolidon. Et par effet je trouve que ce sont les chetives pieces de la porte de ma cuisine” [When I hear our architects puffing themselves out with those big words like pilasters, architraves, cornices, Corinthian and Doric work, and such- 56 I. Book One like jargon, I cannot keep my imagination from immediately seizing on the palace of Apollidon; and in effect I find that these are the paltry parts of my kitchen door] (I: 51, 307a, DM 469; 223*). The architects’ inflated words are deflated by a certain “effect.” The opposition between words and “effects” surfaces a fourth time in a post-1588 addition to this chapter in which Mon- taigne notes that L. Volumnius recommended Q. Fabius and P. Decius for consulships because being military men they were “grands aux effects; au com- bat du babil, rudes” [great in deeds; at combat in prattle, clumsy] (I: 51, 306c; 222). Throughout I: 51 Montaigne prefers deeds to words and attacks empty eloquence, true to his title’s indication of the emptiness, the “vanité,” of words. Effects and paroles are brought into play and into a relationship with each other but in a quite different way in “Que l’intention juge nos actions.” In that chapter parole is understood in the sense of a promise, Henry VII of England “faillant à sa parole” [breaking his word] (I: 7, 30a, DM 29; 20) when he provided in his will that after his death his enemy the Duke of Suffolk (Edmund de la Pole), whom he had promised Phillip of Burgundy he would not harm (and kept prisoner in the Tower of London), be put to death. That the execution took place after the king’s death in no way freed the latter of his obligation to keep his word. In a similar yet contrasting case, the Count of Egmont, about to be executed together with the Count of Horn, asked to be beheaded29 first so that his death might free him from his obligation to Horn, whom he had unwittingly lured in a trap set for both. It is in commenting on Egmont that Montaigne brings “effects” into conflict with “parole.” Egmont in the essayist’s view was freed from his obligation already, because Nous ne pouvons estre tenus au dela de nos forces & de nos moyens. A ceste cause, par ce que les effaictz & executions ne sont aucunement en nostre puissance, & qu’il n’y a rien en bon essiant en nostre puissance, que la volonté. . . . Par ainsi le Conte d’Aiguemond tenant son ame & volonté endebtée à sa promesse, bien que la puissance de l’effectuer ne fut pas en ses mains, estoit sans doubte absous de son devoir, quand il eut survescu le Conte de Horne. Mais le roy d’Angleterre faillant à sa parole, par son inten- tion ne se peut excuser. [We cannot be bound beyond our powers and means. For this reason— that we have no power to effect and accomplish, that there is nothing really 29. As Montaigne made clear in the 1580 edition: the “Comtes de Horne & d’Aiguemond, aus- quels il fit trancher la teste” [the Count of Horn and the Count of Egmont, both of whom he had beheaded] (DM 28). This phrase was deleted in 1588. I. Book One 57 in our power but will—all man’s rules of duty are necessarily founded and established in our will. . . . Thus the count of Egmont, considering his soul and will in debt to his promise, though the power to carry it out was not in his hands, was certainly absolved of his duty even had he survived the count of Horn. But the king of England, in intentionally breaking his word, can- not be excused.] (I: 7, 30a, DM 29; 20) In I: 51 paroles and effects are opposed to each other (as words vs. deeds), while in I: 7 they are on the same side in the case of the count of Egmont and of hypothetical others who wish to put their parole (as promise) into effect but are prevented by circumstance from doing so. In the 1580 edition Henry VII “faillant à sa parole” found an inverted reflection in the defaillance [defect] of the common people that makes them liable to be manipulated by clever rhetoric, by “la vanité des parolles.” Rhetoric is un util inventé pour manier & agiter une tourbe & une commune desrei- glée.  .  .  . Il semble par là que les estatz qui dependent d’un monarque en ont moins de besoin que les autres. Car la bestise & facilité qui se trouve en la commune, & qui la rend subjecte à estre maniée & contournée par les oreilles au dous son de céte harmonie, sans venir à poisir & conoitre la verité des choses par la force de la raison, céte defaillance, ne se se trouve pas si aiséement en un seul. [an instrument invented to manipulate and agitate a crowd and a disorderly populace. . . . From that it seems that monarchical governments need it less than others: for the stupidity and facility that is found in the common peo- ple, which makes them subject to be led by the ears to the sweet sound of this harmony without weighing things and coming to know their truth by force of reason—this defect is not so easily found in a single ruler.] (I: 51, 305–6a, DM 465–66; 222*) Their defaillance is that they are under the power of certain paroles, while Henry VII’s defaillance was that he broke away from the power of a certain parole. (In 1588 “defaillance” would be replaced by “facillité.”) Montaigne follows the stories of Henry VII and the count of Egmont with a third instance of death freeing one (or not) from an obligation. Henry VII “ne se peut excuser, pour avoir retardé jusques apres sa mort l’execu- tion de sa desloyauté, non plus que le masson de Herodote, lequel ayant loyallement conservé durant sa vie le secret des tresors du roy d’Egypte son maistre, mourant les descouvrit à ses enfans” [cannot be excused merely on the ground that he delayed the execution of his dishonest plan until after his 58 I. Book One death; any more than Herodotus’ mason, who, having loyally kept during his life the secret of the treasures of his master the king of Egypt, revealed it to his children as he died] (I: 7, 30a, DM 29–30; 20). That is all he tells us of the mason, but a detail from the passage in Herodotus to which he alludes resonates so strongly here that he must have been thinking of it—and may have wanted those of his readers familiar with Herodotus to think about it too. It is that when the mason’s two sons were stealing from the treasury, as he recommended they do after his death, one of them was caught in a trap the king had set and, realizing he could not get out of it, said to his brother, “cut off my head, lest I be seen and recognized and so bring you too to ruin.”30 Like the Count of Egmont, the doomed brother (1) asks to be beheaded now, (2) knowing that he will be executed eventually, and (3) makes this request out of a sense of obligation to his partner in crime. Similarly, another part of the story he doesn’t mention, though an even more essential one, may have a secret connection to something in its partner chapter, the humble kitchen door that the vanity of words—the fancy archi- tectural terms—gives Montaigne the momentary illusion that he is staring at a palace. For Herodotus’ mason gave his sons access to the king’s treasure by making an opening—a kind of door—into the palace: “That he might store his treasure safely, [the king] made to be built a stone chamber, one of its walls abutting on the outer side of his palace. But the builder of it craftily contrived that one stone should be so placed as to be easily removed by two men or even by one” (Herodotus, 415). That is how the sons were able to go in and out with the treasure until the king began to notice it was disappear- ing. It is a hidden door in two senses: literally so in Herodotus’ story, and figuratively in I: 7 in that it is hidden in Montaigne’s allusion to the story. From there it may lead us to the imagined palace door in I: 51, the two ends of the intratext I: 7 and I: 51 together form connected by this secret passage. 8. Of idleness and Horses “De l’oisiveté” [On idleness] (I: 8) and “De Democritus et Hera- clitus” [On Democritus and Heraclitus] (I: 50) “De l’oisiveté” (I: 8) could almost have served as a preface to the Essays, for it is there that Montaigne speaks of the birth of his book: 30. Herodotus. Herodotus, tr. A. D. Godley (Cambridge: Harvard University Press / Loeb Library, 1981), 417. I. Book One 59 Dernierement que je me retiray chez moy, deliberé autant que je pourray de ne me mesler d’autre chose, que de passer en repos & à part ce peu qui me reste de vie, il me sembloit ne pouvoir faire plus grande faveur à mon esprit, que de le laisser en pleine oysiveté s’entretenir soi mesmes & s’arres- ter & rasseoir en soy, ce que j’esperois qu’il peut meshui faire plus aisement devenu avec le temps plus poisant & plus meur, mais je trouve  .  .  .  que au rebours faisant le cheval eschapé il se donne cent fois plus d’affaire à soy mesmes qu’il n’en prent pour autruy, & m’enfante tant de chimeres & monstres fantasques les uns sur les autres, sans ordre, & sans propos, que pour en contempler à mon aise l’ineptie & l’estrangeté j’ay commancé de les mettre en rolle, esperant avec le temps luy en faire honte à luy mesmes. [Lately, when I retired to my home, determined so far as possible to bother about nothing except spending the little life I have left in rest and seclusion, it seemed to me I could do my mind no greater favor than to let it enter- tain itself in full idleness and stay and settle in itself, which I hoped it might do more easily now, having become weightier and riper with time. But I find . . . that, on the contrary, like a runaway horse, it gives itself a hundred times more trouble than it took for others, and gives birth to so many chi- meras and fantastic monsters, one after another, without order and without purpose, that in order to contemplate their ineptitude and strangeness at my pleasure, I have begun to write them down, hoping in time to make my mind ashamed of itself.] (I: 8, 33a; DM 31–32; 21*) “De Democritus et Heraclitus” (I: 50) is likewise a meditation on Mon- taigne’s manner of self-exploration and his writing. In this chapter too horses and idleness are linked, as they are in I: 8 when he compares his idle mind to a runaway horse. The Leake Concordance confirms that nowhere else in Books One or Two do the words cheval and oisif/oisiveté in any of their forms make a joint appearance than in I: 8 and in the following passage in I: 50: Toute action est propre à nous faire connoistre céte mesme ame de Caesar, qui se faict voir à ordonner & dresser la bataille de Pharsale, elle se faict aussi voir à dresser des parties oysives & amoureuses. On juge un cheval, non seulement à le voir manier sur une carriere, mais encore à luy voir aller le pas, voire & à le voir en repos à l’estable. [Every action is apt to reveal to us this same soul of Caesar that shows itself in ordering and arranging the battle of Pharsalis: it shows itself as well in arranging idle and amorous affairs. One judges a horse not only by seeing it 60 I. Book One handled on a race course but also in seeing it walk, and even at rest in the stable.] (I: 50, 302a, DM 461; 219*) The horse’s repose (“en repos à l’estable”) actually constitutes a third element in this repeated cluster, for it was as a consequence of his retirement to his estate to “passer en repos” his declining years that Montaigne’s idle mind began to behave like a runaway horse. Richard Scholar points out another parallel between the chapters. He finds it in the opening lines of I: 50: Le jugement est un util à tous subjets, & se mesle par tout. À céte cause aus essais, que j’en fay icy, j’y employe toute sorte d’occasion. Si c’est un subjet que je n’entende point, à cela mesme je l’essaie, sondant le gué de bien loing, & puis le trouvant trop profond pour ma taille, je me tiens à la rive. . . . Tantost je le promene à un subject noble & fort tracassé, auquel il n’a rien à trouver de soy mesme, le chemin en estant si frayé & si batu qu’il ne peut marcher que sur la piste d’autruy. Là il faict son jeu à trier la route qui luy semble la meilleure, & de mille sentiers, il dict que cetuy cy ou celuy là a esté le mieus choisi. [Judgment is a tool to use on all subjects, and comes in everywhere. There- fore in the tests that I make of it here, I use every sort of occasion. If it is a subject I do not understand at all, even on that I essay my judgment, sounding the ford from a good distance; and then, finding it too deep for my height, I stick to the bank. . . . Sometimes I lead it to a noble and well- worn subject in which it has nothing original to discover, the road being so worn and so beaten that it can walk only in others’ footsteps. There it plays its part by choosing the way that seems best to it, and of a thousand paths it says that this one or that was the most wisely chosen.] (I: 50, 301- 2a, DM 459–60; 219*) Scholar writes that Montaigne here describes his process of essaying . . . as a journey on which two characters have embarked: the first person “I” (“je”), and his judgement. We might be reminded here of an earlier chapter, “Of idleness” (I: 8), which also stages a psychodrama involving two characters internal to Montaigne. “Of idleness” . . . has the first person set off in hot pursuit of his runaway mind. In “Of Democri- tus and Heraclitus,” the judgement has replaced the mind in the lead role alongside the first person, and the balance of power is different: the first I. Book One 61 person does not pursue so much as accompany his judgement on a journey; and he sets his judgement tests along the way.31 Montaigne, as Scholar suggests, actually seems to speak of his judgment as if it were a horse, leading it (in fact, “walking” it: “je le promene”), ford- ing a stream or not with it, letting it choose its own path when several are offered. Scholar, who like other readers of I: 8 finds it to be a “second pref- ace” (Scholar, 24) to Book I, supplementing the “Au Lecteur,” makes the same observation of I: 50, and finds that to be an additional similarity between them: I: 50 “acts like a belated preface to Book I and a mirror-image of an earlier prefatory exercise, ‘Of idleness’ (I: 8). But where  .  .  .  ‘Of idleness’ describes a writer in hot pursuit of his runaway mind, ‘Of Democritus and Heraclitus’ presents essaying as the best way for him to give his mind free rein—while remaining in the saddle” (Scholar, 90). Montaigne in I: 8 writes of fallow fields whose teeming abundance needs to be tamed by subjection to “certaines semences” [certain seeds] (I: 8, 32a, DM 30; 20) and of women who on their own can produce pieces of formless flesh but who for a good and natural offspring need to receive “une autre semance: ainsin est-il des esprits” [another kind of seed; so it is with minds] (I: 8, 32a, DM 30; 21), which require a definite subject to keep them reined in. Particularly is it true of Montaigne’s own mind, and this has implica- tions for his writing, as he goes on to say, in the passage already quoted at length. In a post-1588 addition to I: 50, that sowing will return in a self- referential way, in the present participle semant [sowing], at a moment when Montaigne is talking about how he writes his Essays. It follows immediately the passage, already quoted, in which he speaks of his judgment as if it were a horse. [B] Je prends de la fortune le premier argument. Ils me sont également bons. Et ne [C] desseigne jamais de les produire entiers. Car je ne voy le tout de rien: Ne font pas, ceux qui promettent de nous le faire veoir. De cent membres et visages qu’a chaque chose, j’en prens un tantost à lecher seulement, tantost à effleurer; et par fois à pincer jusqu’à l’os. J’y donne une poincte, non pas le plus largement, mais le plus profondement que je sçay. Et aime plus souvent à les saisir par quelque lustre inusité. Je me hazarderoy de traitter à fons quelque matière, si je me connoissoy moins. Semant icy un mot, icy un autre, eschantillons despris de leur piece, escartez, sans dessein et sans promesse, je ne suis pas tenu d’en faire bon, ny de m’y tenir moy mesme, 31. Richard Scholar, Montaigne and the Art of Free-Thinking (Oxford: Peter Lang, 2010), 70. 62 I. Book One sans varier quand il me plaist; et me rendre au doubte et incertitude, et à ma maistresse forme, qui est l’ignorance. [(B) I take the first subject that chance offers. They are all equally good to me. And I (C) never plan to develop them completely. For I do not see the whole of anything; nor do those who promise to show it to us. Of a hun- dred members and faces that each thing has, I take one, sometimes only to lick it, sometimes to brush the surface, sometimes to pinch it to the bone. I give it a stab, not as wide but as deep as I know how. And most often I like to take them from some unaccustomed point of view. I would venture to treat some matter thoroughly, if I knew myself less well. Sowing a word here, there another, samples separated from their context, dispersed, with- out a plan and without a promise, I am not bound to make something of them or to adhere to them myself without varying when I please and giving myself up to doubt and uncertainty and my ruling quality, which is igno- rance.] (I: 50, 302ac; 219*) The phrase “sans dessein et sans promesse” at the very moment it asserts an absence of a plan may actually reveal the presence of one, for it appears to echo a parallel statement in the symmetrically matching “De l’oysiveté”: in retreating from active life, Montaigne let his mind fall into idleness but found that it “m’enfante tant de chimeres & monstres fantasques les uns sur les autres, sans ordre, et sans propos” [gives birth to so many chimeras and fantastic monsters, one after another, without order and without purpose] (I: 8, 33a; 21*) that he began to write them down, giving birth to the Essays. Although the construction “sans . . . et sans . . . ” appears often in the Essays, only in these two instances are both of the following conditions met: (1) Montaigne is talking about his book and (2) the second term begins with the prefix pro. The manuscript evidence suggests that it was important to him that the second term begin with “pro-” because what he had first written (and then drew a line through, replacing it with “sans dessein et sans promesse”) also contained that feature: “Sans corps, sans proposition” [without order, without proposition].32 32. The manuscript post-1588 edition may be consulted at http://artflx.uchicago.edu/images/ montaigne/0126.jpg . It is reproduced on p. 85 of Scholar’s book and transcribed by André Tournon on p. 186 of his article “La segmentation du texte: usages et singularités” (in Blum, Claude and André Tournon, eds. Éditer les Essais de Montaigne: Actes du Colloque tenu à l’Université Paris IV-Sorbonne les 27 et 28 janvier 1995 [Paris: Honoré Champion, 1997]: 173–96). I. Book One 63 9. lying, After a Fashion “Des menteurs” [Of liars] (I: 9) and “Des coustumes anciennes” [Of ancient customs] (I: 49) Montaigne begins “Des menteurs” (I: 9) by talking about the faculty of mem- ory, and about how poorly endowed his is. “Il n’est homme à qui il siese si mal de se mesler de parler de la memoire qu’à moy. Car je n’en reconnoy quasi nulle trasse chez moy: & ne pense qu’il y en aye au monde une si mon- strueuse en defaillance” [There is no man whom it would so little become to meddle with talking about memory. For I recognize almost no trace of it in me, and I do not think there is another one in the world so monstrously deficient] (I: 9, 34a, DM 32; 21*). In the same passage (in the 1580 edition, at least—before some additions from 1588 and later came in between) he goes on to say that good liars better have a good memory: “Ce n’est pas sans raison qu’on dit, que qui ne se sent point assez ferme de memoire, ne se doit pas mesler d’estre menteur” [It is not unreasonably said that anyone who does not feel sufficiently strong in memory should not meddle with being a liar] (I: 9, 35a, DM 33; 23*). But in “Des coustumes anciennes” (I: 49) he seems to say that he has a better memory than nearly anyone else: J’excuserois volontiers en nostre peuple de n’avoir autre patron & regle de perfection que ses propres meurs & usances: car c’est un commun vice, non du vulgaire seulement, mais quasi de tous hommes, d’avoir leur visée & leur arrest sur le train auquel ils sont nais. . . . Mais je me plains de sa particuliere indiscretion, de se laisser si fort piper & aveugler à l’autho- rité de l’usage present, qu’il soit capable de changer d’opinion et d’advis tous les mois, s’il plait à la coustume, & qu’il juge si diversement de soy mesmes. [I should be prone to excuse our people for having no other pattern and rule of perfection than their own manners and customs; for it is a common vice, not of the vulgar only but of almost all men, to fix their aim and limit by the ways to which they were born. . . . But I do complain of their par- ticular lack of judgment in letting themselves be so thoroughly fooled and blinded by the authority of present usage that they are capable of chang- ing opinion and ideas every month, if custom pleases, and that they judge themselves so diversely.] (I: 49, 296a, DM 450–51; 215–16) 64 I. Book One Their problem is that they live only in the present, and they forget the past. Specifically, they forget how enthusiastically they approved a certain fashion that they now ignore in their infatuation with the new. Despite what Mon- taigne says in I: 9 about having a worse power of recollection than anyone else (“Il n’est homme” [There is no man] with less right to speak of memory than him), in I: 49 he shows that he has a better memory than “quasi de tous hommes” [almost all men], for only he can remember how things used to be: “Je veux icy entasser aucunes coustumes anciennes que j’ay en memoire, les unes de mesmes les nostres, les autres differentes: afin qu’ayant en ima- gination céte continuelle variation des choses humaines nous en ayons le jugement plus esclaircy & plus ferme” [I want to pile up here some ancient fashions that I have in my memory, some like ours, others different, to the end that we may strengthen and enlighten our judgment by reflecting upon this continual variation of human things] (I: 49, 297a, DM 452; 216). And then he provides, out of his storehouse of memory, a long list of ancient Roman customs that differ greatly from sixteenth-century practice. It is as if his memory were so poor that when he writes I: 49 he has for- gotten what he had said in I: 9 about how poor a memory he has. Either that, or he is lying—which in I: 9 he said one must have a superior memory to do. Montaigne, not for the first or last time, incarnates the Epimenidean paradox about the Cretan who may or may not be telling the truth about all Cretans being liars.33 It is fitting that he should do so here, in a pair of chapters of which one is about liars. Lying, the declared theme of I: 9, is metafictionally thematic in Mon- taigne’s contradicting in I: 49 what he says in I: 9. But equally so is fashion, the declared subject of I: 49. For his self-contradiction is, in the experience of a reader who reads the Essays from beginning to end, situated in time, and in the realm of fashion “souvent les formes mesprisées reviennent en credit, & celles la mesme tumbent en mespris tantost apres, & qu’un mesme jugement preigne en l’espace de quinze ou vingt ans deus ou trois, non diverses seulement, mais contraires opinions, d’une inconstance & legereté incroyable” [despised fashions often return into favor, and these very ones soon after fall back gain into contempt; and the same mind, in the space of fifteen or twenty years, may be so incredibly inconsistent and frivolous as to adopt two or three opinions that are not merely diverse but contrary] (I: 49, 297a, DM 452; 216*). What happens in fashion happens in the Essays, at a distance of, say, forty chapters instead of twenty years. That is, Montaigne 33. Montaigne alludes to the Liar Paradox in the “Apologie de Raimond Sebond”: “Si vous dictes: Je ments, et que vous dissiez vray, vous mentez donc” [If you say, “I lie,” and if you are speaking the truth, then you lie] (II: 12, 527b; 392). I. Book One 65 changes his opinion after a while as the fashionable change theirs, and into not just a different opinion but its opposite. A parallel phenomenon is the return of the same: in the realm of fashion, after many years abandoned modes re-emerge; in the Essays, words return in one chapter after having been dormant since appearing in an earlier one, rarely seen words that sometimes never appear in the book except in two such distantly-spaced chapters structurally linked by the symmetry surrounding the center of the book. For example, one of the curious customs Montaigne relates is that the ancient Romans se torchoient le cul  .  .  .  avec une esponge. Voylà pourquoy SPONGIA est un mot obscoene en Latin: & estoit céte esponge atachée au bout d’un bas- ton, comme tesmoigne l’histoire de celuy qu’on menoit pour estre presenté aus bestes devant le peuple, qui demanda congé d’aller à ses affaires, & là n’ayant autre moien de se tuer, il se fourra ce baston & esponge dans le gosier & s’en estoufa. [wiped their ass  .  .  .  with a sponge—that is why SPONGIA is an obscene word in Latin—and this sponge was attached to the end of a stick, as is shown by the story of the man who was being taken to be thrown to the beasts in front of the people, and who asked permission to go and answer the call of nature; and having there no other way to kill himself, he stuffed the stick and sponge down his throat and choked himself.] (I: 49, 298a; DM 454–55; 217*) The phrase “mot . . . en Latin” appears also in I: 9, and nowhere else: Je sçay bien que les grammairiens font difference entre dire mensonge & mentir: & disent que dire mensonge c’est dire chose faulce, mais qu’on a pris pour vraye, & que la definition du mot de mentir en latin, d’ou nostre François est party, porte autant comme aller contre sa conscience, & que par consequence cela ne touche que ceux qui disent contre ce qu’ils sçavent. [I know very well that the grammarians make this distinction between tell- ing a lie and lying: and they say that telling a lie means saying something false but which we have taken for true, and that the definition of the word “to lie” in Latin, from which our French is taken, implies going against our conscience, and thus applies only to those who say what is contrary to what they know.] (I: 9, 35a, DM 33; 23*)34 34. The passage to which Montaigne refers in Aulus Gellius, perhaps at second hand, makes the 66 I. Book One It is a hardly a coincidence that the identical words “mot . . . en Latin” should be attached to words that rhyme (“esponge” and “mensonge”) and that the story Montaigne tells to show what Romans did with sponges is also the story of a lie (the one the victim told to get to use it). In 1588 Montaigne added a passage to I: 9 that created a new parallel between the chapters, echoing the following passage, already quoted: “un mesme jugement preigne en l’espace de quinze ou vingt ans deus ou trois, non diverses seulement, mais contraires opinions” [the same mind, in the space of fifteen or twenty years, might adopt two or three opinions that are not merely diverse but contrary] (I: 49, 297a, DM 452; 216*). The relevant addition has to do with negotiators who over the course of their career work for different masters and in different situations. The details of a lie one has concocted are likely to escape all but the most powerful memories, and he has seen and been amused by those who choose their words to suit their negotiations and please the great to whom they are speaking: “il faut que leur parole se diversi- fie quand et quand; d’où il advient que de mesme chose ils disent gris tantost, tantost jaune” [their words must become diverse accordingly. So it happens that they describe the same thing as now gray, now yellow], and what they say is reported as containing things “si contraires” [so contrary] that they trip themselves up, for how could they remember “tant de diverses formes, qu’ils ont forgées à un mesme subject?” [so many diverse forms into which they have cast the same subject?] (I: 9, 36b; 23*). With this addition Montaigne deepens the analogy between lying and fashion. What happens to the same mind [“un mesme jugement”] over the course of several years of changing fashions is that it becomes diverse and contrary as it adapts to those fashions; what happens to lies a negotiator tells as circumstances change is precisely the same: a same subject he will give diverse and even contrary accounts.35 10. excess Baggage “Du parler prompt ou tardif” [Of prompt or slow speech] (I: 10) and “Des destries” [Of war horses] (I: 48) In “Des destries” (I: 48), Montaigne writes admiringly of how “nos distinction between “mendacium dicere” and “mentiri.” Noctes Atticae (Attic Nights), IX, 11. On the web at: http://penelope.uchicago.edu/Thayer/E/Roman/Texts/Gellius/home.html 35. Unaware of the metafictional dimension, the editors of the new Pléiade edition find that I: 49 is nothing but an “inventory” of “pointless or inconsequential practices with regard to fashion, hygiene, or food” and that Montaigne even seemed “tired” [fatigué] by the time he reached its conclusion (Bal- samo et al., 1478). I. Book One 67 ancestres . . . en tous les combats solemnelz . . . se mettoient tous à pié, pour ne se fier à nulle autre chose, qu’à leur force propre” [our ancestors  .  .  .  in all serious engagements . . . all fought on foot, so as to trust to nothing but their own strength] (I: 48, 289a, DM 446; 211*). For in the heat of battle a horse is less an advantage than a liability: “Ses playes & sa mort tirent la vostre en consequence, son effray ou sa fureur vous rendent ou temeraire ou lache” [His wounds and his death bring on yours as a consequence; his fright or his furor make you rash or cowardly] (I: 48, 289a, DM 447; 211*). For the same reason he prefers the sword to the pistol: Comme je conseilleroy de choisir les armes les plus courtes & celles dequoy nous nous pouvons le mieux respondre. Il est bien plus seur de s’asseu- rer d’une espée que nous tenons au poing, que du boulet qui eschappe de nostre pistole, en laquelle il y a plusieurs pieces, la poudre, la pierre, le roüet, desquelles la moindre qui viendra à faillir vous fera faillir vostre fortune. [Just as I should advise the choice of the shortest weapons, and those that we can answer for best. It is much surer to rely on a sword that we hold in our hand than on the bullet that escapes out of our pistol, in which there are several parts—the powder, the flint, the lock—the least of which, by failing, will make your fortune fail.] (I: 48, 290a, DM 447–48; 211*) It is a mistake, in other words, to depend more than absolutely necessary on the paraphernalia one brings to the encounter. A certain Poyet learned this very lesson in a completely different sort of context in “Du parler prompt ou tardif ” (I: 10). He was given the task “de faire la harangue au Pape” [of mak- ing the harangue to the Pope] (I: 10, 39a, DM 41; 26) when the latter met with François I at Marseilles. A lawyer renowned for his eloquence, Poyet had come with a speech all prepared, but at the last moment it was decided that a different theme than the one originally chosen would be more appropriate, so that “sa harangue demeuroit inutile & luy en falloit promptement refaire une autre” [so that his harangue was useless, and he had to draft another promptly] (I: 10, 39a, DM 41; 26). But this he was unable to do on such short notice, so Cardinal du Bellay had to give the speech in his place. Montaigne begins this chapter by making a distinction between two kinds of public speakers: “les uns ont la facilité & la promptitude, & . . . le boute-hors si aisé qu’à chaque bout de champ ils sont prests: les autres plus tardifz ne parlent jamais rien qu’élabouré et premedité” [some have facil- ity and promptness, and . . . can get it out so easily that at every turn they are ready; whereas others, slower, never speak except with elaboration and 68 I. Book One premeditation] (I: 10, 39a, DM 38; 25). As I: 10 is based on a distinction between the two categories of prompt and slow speech, I: 48 is based on a distinction between two ways of fighting, for each of which Montaigne gives two opposing instances: (1) fighting on foot vs. fighting on horseback, and (2) the simple and reliable sword vs. the complicated and unreliable pistol. The trouble with fighting on horseback and with using a firearm is that one is encumbered with excess baggage—the horse liable to fright, impetuosity, wounds or death; the machinery of the pistol any of whose several parts might fail to function. The same trouble afflicts those who, like Poyet, are burdened with the useless encumbrance of a speech they have spent a long time preparing but which they cannot make fit the situation that suddenly presents itself, on those occasions when public speaking (as it does in a court of law or a meeting of heads of state at a politically charged moment) resembles a field of battle, when “les commoditez de l’advocat le pressent à toute heure de se mettre en lice” [the lawyer’s opportunities press him at every moment to enter the lists] (I: 10, 39a, DM 40; 25*). By contrast, Severus Cassius did better when he relied on his improvisa- tory powers instead of preparing in advance. It was said of him “qu’il disoit mieus sans y avoir pensé, qu’il devoit plus à la fortune qu’à sa diligence” [that he spoke better without having thought about what he was going to say; that he owed more to fortune than to diligence] (I: 10, 40a, DM 42; 26). Montaigne puts himself in this category: “Je cognois, par experience, cette condition de nature, qui ne peut soustenir une vehemente premeditation et laborieuse.  .  .  . Mais, outre cela, la solicitude de bien faire, et cette conten- tion de l’ame trop bandée et trop tenduë à son entreprise, la met au rouet, la rompt, et l’empesche” [I know by experience this sort of nature that cannot bear vehement and laborious premeditations. . . . But besides this, the anxi- ety to do well, and the tension of straining too intently on one’s work, put the soul on the rack, break it, and make it impotent] [I: 10, 40ac; 26). In “Des destries” the problem with the pistol as opposed to the sword is that “il y a plusieurs pieces, la poudre, la pierre, le rouët, desquelles la moindre qui viendra à faillir, vous fera faillir vostre fortune” [there are several parts—the powder, the flint, the lock—the least of which, by failing, will make your fortune fail] (I: 48, 290a, 211*). This rouët, a piece that, though small, is essential to a firearm’s mechanism, is on the metafictional level a small yet significant part of the Essays’ mechanics, echoing its homonym in the struc- turally related chapter I: 10. In both chapters, a rouët is connected with the failure of a system to work. Its gives the lie to the notion that Montaigne’s avowed preference for speaking without lengthy preparation applies as well I. Book One 69 to his writing. I: 10’s rouët was in fact long in coming, only appearing as a post-1588 addition. That preparation may well extend, as others have suggested, to a system of sequential echoes paralleling the symmetrical ones. For rouet occurs but one other time in Book One, in the chapter that immediately precedes 1: 10, when François I bragged of having “mis au rouet” [trapped by encirclement] (I: 9, 37a; 24*). Francesco Taverna, catching him in a lie by inducing him to say too much and thus reveal his master’s guilt in murdering the King’s envoy in Milan. The sequential and the symmetrical echoes among this word’s only appearances in Book One—in chapters I: 9, I: 10, and I: 48—are of equal strength but are based on different parallels. The sequential echo of “avoir mis au rouet” (I: 9) with “la met au rouet” (I: 10) includes mettre + à as well, and in both instances involves speaking. Taverna was caught saying too much; the speaker in I: 10 has too much to say, since he has thought in advance about what he is going to say, to say anything at all. The symmetri- cal echo between “la met au rouet” (I: 10) and the “rouët” as part of the fir- ing mechanism in I: 48 draws out the parallel between the inability of an over-prepared speaker to speak and the inability of a pistol to fire when one of its pieces fails. Anticipating the bullet that, when the rouët does not fail, “eschappe de nostre pistole” [escapes out of our pistol] (I: 48, 290a, DM 447; 211), speech placed on the rack is likened to water that “par force de se pres- ser de sa violence et abondance, ne peut trouver issuë en un goulet ouvert” [because of the violent pressure of its abundance cannot find its way out of an open gutter pipe] (I: 10, 40a; 26*). The “fortune” that will fail in the case of the man who tries to fire the jammed pistol in I: 48 also finds a parallel in the “fortune” of the speaker in the 1: 10 passage. For the passage about putting one’s soul on the rouët derives from the example of Severus Cassius, who “devoit plus à la fortune qu’à sa diligence” [owed more to fortune than to his diligence] (I: 10, 40a, DM 42; 26*) because he was a speaker who, like Montaigne himself, excelled in an impromptu setting but was likely to fail when encumbered with advance preparation. The fortune that fails in one instance succeeds in the other. More evidence about the long-term preparation that went into the Essays, particularly as they evolved over time, arises from a 1588 addition to I: 48 which responds to the anecdote in I: 10 about the two harangues for the Pope—the one Poyet had prepared but couldn’t give, and the one Cardi- nal du Bellay gave in his place. The Indians in Mexico were so amazed by the sight of conquistadors on horseback that they thought both the men and the horses must be either gods or animals of a nobler nature than their 70 I. Book One own. “Aucuns, apres avoir esté vaincus, venant demander paix et pardon aux hommes, et leurs chevaux, avec une toute pareille harengue à celle des hommes, prenant leur hannissement pour langage de composition et de tre- fve” [Some, after being vanquished, coming to ask for peace and pardon of the men and bring gold and food, did not fail to go and offer the same to the horses, with a harangue just like one for the men, taking their neighing for a language of conciliation and truce] (I: 48, 293b; 214). These two harangues answer the two in I: 10. There are other harangues in the Essays, but only here do they come in pairs. 11. enough Already “Des prognostications” [Of prognostications] (I: 11) and “De l’incertitude de nostre jugement” [Of the uncertainty of our judgment] (I: 47) While chapters I: 9 and I: 49 deal with the past (with the way it resurfaces in the present in both lies and fashion), and chapters I: 10 and I: 48 with the need to act effectively on the spur of the present moment, I: 11 and I: 47 concern the future, for in both Montaigne writes of the impossibil- ity of predicting what will come from the limited perspective the present offers. In I: 11 he criticizes both ancient reading of entrails and present- day attempts to read the future in stars and dreams—“notable exemple de la forcenée curiosité de nostre nature s’amusant à preoccuper les choses futures, comme si elle n’avoit pas assez affaire à digerer les presantes” [a notable example of the frenzied curiosity of our nature, which wastes its time anticipating future things, as if it did not have enough to do digest- ing the present] (I: 11, 41a, DM 45; 27). In 1: 47 he writes of the impos- sibility of predicting the outcome of certain military behaviors and tactics, considering such questions as what might happen if one pursued a defeated adversary (pushed by despair, would he suddenly fight back with renewed vigor?); whether one’s soldiers should be sumptuously accoutered or armed only for necessity (would they fight more valiantly in order to save their personal property or would they fight more tentatively for fear of losing it?); whether soldiers should be given licence to taunt the enemy (would it increase the courage of the taunters, making them think their opponents would then give them no mercy, or would it only make the enemy fight more courageously, now having a personal interest in the outcome?); or whether one should charge the enemy or stand firm to await his charge I. Book One 71 (would a charge give one’s soldiers greater momentum or would it merely waste their strength?). You just cannot predict what will happen, despite the best laid plans and most well considered reasons. “Ainsi nous avons bien accoustumé de dire avec raison que les advenemens & issues dependent mesme en la guerre pour la pluspart de la fortune. Laquelle ne se veut pas renger & assujetir à nostre discours & prudence” [Thus we are quite wont to say, with reason, that events and outcomes depend for the most part, even in war, on Fortune, who will not fall into line and subject herself to our reason and foresight] (I: 47, 286a, DM 442; 209*). Yet the specific language in which he expresses his contempt for the notion that the future can be predicted in I: 11, in the passage I quoted about our frenzied curiosity wasting its time anticipating future things “comme si elle n’avoit pas assez affaire à digerer les presantes” [as if it did not have enough to do digesting the present] (I: 11, 41a, DM 45; 27), appears to have some predictive power of its own, anticipating the language with which he will in I: 47 criticize those who do not pursue their military advantage. Perhaps, he writes, an exculpatory defense of the error we made in not pursuing the enemy at Montcontour, or of the King of Spain not pressing the advantage he had over us at Saint Quentin, was that one “pourra dire céte faute partir d’une ame enyvrée de sa bonne fortune, & d’un courage lequel plein & gorgé de ce commencement de bon heur, perd le goust de l’accroistre, des jà par trop empesché à digerer ce qu’il en a” [could say that this mistake came from a soul intoxicated with its good fortune and a heart full and gorged with such a happy beginning losing the hunger to increase it, already too overcome to digest what it already has] (I: 47, 281a, DM 429–30; 205*). While “à digerer” does appear elsewhere in the Essays, only in these two instances does it do so in the context of having enough on one’s plate already. The echo points to an interesting case of the same and the precisely opposed, for neither our natural curiosity (in I: 11) nor the commander too soon sated with success (in I: 47) is able to digest what must presently be consumed, with the contrasting dif- ference that the former errs in reaching for more while the latter errs in not doing so. Thus despite the different routes they take to get there, the two chap- ters are in the end talking about the same thing: predicting the future. “Des prognostications” (I: 11) even presents its own instance of a failure to pur- sue a military advantage, the question to which “De l’incertitude de nostre jugement” (I: 47) devotes so much space. In fact, in the 1580 edition it was the only anecdote in I: 11 and took up half the chapter. It is ostensibly told to illustrate the force of superstition and false prophecy, yet it concludes with an instance of the same failure to pursue an advantage for which both 72 I. Book One French troops and the Spanish king will be taken to task in I: 47. François, Marquis de Sallusse, was a lieutenant in the army of François I who owed his position to the French king’s favor but decided to go over to the side of Charles V because of some prognostications predicting disaster for the French cause. But his defection was not nearly as great a catastrophe as it might have been, “Car ayant & villes & forces en sa main, l’armée enne- mye  .  .  .  à trois pas de luy, & nous sans soubson de son faict, il estoit en luy de faire pis qu’il ne fist” [for having both cities and forces in hand, the enemy army . . . three steps away, and us without a suspicion of his action, he could have done worse than he did] (I: 11, 42a, DM 46; 28), as the French side lost but one town as a result. Torn between his belief in omens and his affection for François I, and thus “combattu de diverses passions” [conflicted by diverse passions], he was unable to act decisively and pursue the advantage that lay in his grasp. 12. Anagrams “De la constance” [Of constancy] (I: 12) and “Des noms” [Of names] (I: 46) Nicolas Denisot, we are told in “Des noms” (I: 46), anagrammatized his name into the “Conte d’Alsinois,” under which pseudonym he produced paintings and poems (I: 46, 279a, DM 427; 203). Anagrammatization, the rearrangement of constituent elements in a meaningful manner, is a perti- nent way to describe what happens when elements of an anecdote in one chapter reappear in a new arrangement in an anecdote in the symmetrically corresponding chapter. For instance, in both “Des noms” (I: 46) and “De la constance” (I: 12) a story is told of a man who suddenly sees the danger he is in and takes quick action to get out of it. In one instance, the peril arose when the man came “hors du couvert” [out from the cover] (I: 12, 46a, DM 49; 31*) that a building provided and exposed himself to artillery fire; in the other, a man realized the danger his sinful life posed for the salvation of his soul when, “ayant recouvré une garce” [having picked up a wench] (I: 46, 277a, DM 422; 201) (though recouvrer derives from “récupérer” and not “recouvrir,” the echo does suggest itself ), he found out that her name was Marie. The coincidence between her name and that of the Virgin mother of Christ struck him with such force that he suddenly sent the girl away, and made amends the rest of his life. In consideration of this miracle a cha- pel was built on the site of his house, which later became the cathedral of Poitiers. It happens that there is a coincidence of sorts between the wench I. Book One 73 named Marie—“[la] garce . . . Marie” (I: 46, 277a, DM 422–23; 201)—and the name of the man in the other story, the “Marquis de Guast”: the Mar matching the Mar, the is the ie (in pronunciation), and the Gua the ga. One is nearly the anagram of the other. The very first sentence of I: 12 makes couvrir a key word in the discus- sion carried out in that chapter: “La loy de la resolution & de la constance ne porte pas que nous ne nous devions couvrir autant qu’il est en nostre puissance, des maux & inconveniens qui nous menassent” [The precepts of resoluteness and constancy do not state that we must not cover ourselves as much as it lies in our power from the evils and troubles that threaten us] (I: 12, 45a, DM 47; 30*). Thus the Marquis de Guast could be forgiven for his lack of constancy in jumping out of the way of the cannonball he saw com- ing (he had seen the enemy apply the match), the danger to which he had inadvertently exposed himself by abandoning the couvert of the building he had just left. Buildings figure largely in both stories: in each story there are two, one of which offers protection and the other danger. The windmill from whose shelter the Marquis de Guast emerged had protected him momentarily as he stealthily approached the city of Arles on a reconnaissance mission; his opponents “se promenoient sus le theatre des arenes” [were walking on top of the city’s amphitheater] (I: 12, 46a, DM 49; 31), which offered them the opportunity to aim a cannon at him with deadly precision. The house in which the young debauchee lived and entertained his wenches, and thereby endangered his soul, was replaced by one more likely to protect such souls from damnation: “en consideration de ce miracle il fut basti en la place où estoit la maison de ce jeune homme une chappelle au nom de nostre Dame, & depuis l’Eglise que nous y voyons” [in consideration of this miracle there was built, on the spot where this young man’s house was, a chapel in the name of Our Lady, and, later on, the church that we see there] (I: 46, 277a, DM 423; 201). Another pair of echoing anecdotes emerges with a post-1588 addition to I: 12. In this instance the recombinable elements are (1) the verb reculer [to retreat] in both instances designating a false retreat, (2) a plethora of insults (expressed as “force reproches” and “mille injures”), and (3) the honor of one’s ancestors. Montaigne recounts that when Darius set out to conquer the Scythians he was frustrated because they kept retreating before his advance. Consequently he sent to their king “force reproches pour le voir tousjours reculant devant luy et gauchissant la meslée” [many reproaches because he saw him always retreating before him and avoiding battle]. The king replied that as nomads with no cultivated lands or settlements the Scythians were accus- tomed to being on the move, but that if he was really spoiling for a fight he should try approaching “le lieu de leurs anciennes sepultures” [the place 74 I. Book One of their ancient burials], ground the Scythians would defend to the death (I: 12, 45c; 30). In I: 46 Montaigne tells of a friend whose dinner guests began to make extravagant claims for their bloodlines on the flimsiest of evi- dence. Instead of taking his place at the table, the host “se recula” [retreated] with deep bows, pretending to beg their pardon for having dared to associate with such noble personages as themselves. Then he dropped the mask, and berated them with “mille injures” [a thousand insults] for their pretensions and admonished them, “ne desadvouons pas la fortune et condition de nos ayeulx” [Let us not disown the fortune and condition of our forefathers] (I: 46, 278b; 203). He berated them, that is, because there were abandon- ing their actual ancestry, which ought to have been good enough, for a fake one, and thereby being untrue to their forefathers, who had no such preten- sions. The anecdote first appeared in 1588, but in a latter revision Montaigne added the point about their forefathers being content with the status they had: “[B] Contentez vous, de par Dieu, de ce [C] dequoy nos peres se sont contentez et de ce [B] que nous sommes” [(B) Content yourselves, by God, with (C) what our fathers contented themselves and with (B) what we are] (I: 46, 278bc; 203*). The post-1588 addition intensifies their connection to their ancestors, as if it were Montaigne’s intent to make the anecdote even more closely parallel the one about the Scythians, whose devotion to their ancestors’ honor was absolute. 13. A waiting game “Ceremonie de l’entreveuë des roys” [Ceremony at the interview of kings] (I: 13) and “De la bataille de Dreux” [On the Battle of Dreux] (I: 45) Both of these chapters are about waiting (attendre) and what it would be better (mieux) to do. In I: 13, it is alleged that “en toutes assemblées  .  .  .  il touche aux moindres de se trouver les premiers à l’assignation, d’autant qu’il est mieux deu aux plus apparans de se faire attendre” [in all assemblies . . . the lesser should be first at an appointment, since it is more seemly that the more prominent should make others wait for them] (I: 13, 48a, DM 51; 32*). In I: 45, those critical of Monsieur de Guise’s conduct at the Battle of Dreux said that “il valloit mieux se hazarder prenant l’ennemy par flanc, qu’attendant l’avantage de le voir en queûe souffrir une si lourde perte” [it would have been better to take the risk of attacking the enemy by the flank than to suffer so heavy a loss by waiting for the advantage of catching him by the rear] (I: 45, 274a, DM 418; 200*). I. Book One 75 Both chapters are also about whether it is better to go ahead (devant) to meet the party one is expecting—an invited guest in I: 13, the advancing enemy army in I: 45—or to wait for them to arrive. In 1: 13, it is suggested “que c’estoit incivilité à un gentil-homme de partir de sa maison  .  .  .  pour aller au devant de celuy qui le vient trouver, pour grand qu’il soit, & qu’il est plus respectueux & civil de l’attandre pour le recevoir” [that it would be incivility for a gentleman to leave his house  .  .  .  in order to go ahead to meet the person who is coming to see him, however great he may be; and that it is more respectful and civil to wait to receive him] (I: 13, 48a, DM 51; 32*). In 1: 45: “Philopoemen en une rencontre contre Machinidas ayant envoyé devant pour attaquer l’escarmouche bonne troupe d’archiers & gens de traict . . . ” [Philopoemen, in an encounter with Machanidas, having sent ahead a good force of archers and darters to begin the skirmish . . . ] (I: 45, 274a, DM 419; 200*). Although he did send his archers ahead, the point of the story is that once they engaged the enemy he did not then send the rest of his army ahead to save the archers from slaughter, despite the pleas of his soldiers that he do so, but wisely waited until the enemy came to him before attacking. These two chapters apply the same principles in two very different— indeed opposite—contexts, hospitality (I: 13) and war (I: 45). In the Essays’ metafiction they prove the truth of the assertion Montaigne makes in I: 45 that one should keep in mind the whole (the way the chapters fit together in the entirety of the work) and not just the part (the individual chapter): “que le but et la visée, non seulement d’un capitaine, mais de chaque soldat, doit regarder la victoire en gros, & que nulles occurrences particulieres, quelque interest qu’il y ayt, ne le doivent divertir de ce point là” [that the goal and aim not only of a captain but of every soldier must be the victory as a whole, and that no particular occurrences, of whatever interest to himself, should divert him from that goal] (I: 45, 274a, DM 418–19; 200). 14. more than One Port in a storm “Que le goust des biens et des maux depend en bonne partie de l’opinion que nous en avons” [That the taste of good and evil things depends in large measure on the opinion we have of them] (I: 14) and “Du dormir” [On sleep] (I: 44) Montaigne writes in his chapter on sleep that “j’ay remarqué pour chose rare de voir quelquefois les grands personnages, aux plus hautes entreprinses et importans affaires, se tenir si entiers en leur assiette, que de n’en accourcir 76 I. Book One pas seulement leur sommeil” [it has struck me as a rare thing to see some- times great personages, in the loftiest undertakings and most important affairs, remain so utterly unmoved as not even to curtail their sleep] (I: 44, 271a, DM 113; 198*). He cites, among others, two particular notable figures who had no trouble sleeping before they were about to commit suicide. One of them is the Emperor Otho, who decided to kill himself one night, but only “apres avoir mis ordre à ses affaires domestiques” [after having put his domestic affairs in order], after which he slept so deeply that his servants could hear him snoring. The other is Cato, who had resolved on suicide, but waited until the senators he was sending away had left the “port d’Utique” [ port of Utica]. The messenger he sent to the port returned and awakened him to say that a “tourmente” [storm] had held them back; Cato went back to sleep until word would come that they had made it to safety (I: 44, 271a; DM 413–14; 198). Both anecdotes find echoes in I: 14 (hence my added italics). The “grands personnages” who face death so calmly (either by suicide in the cases of Otho and Cato, or in an impending battle in the other examples cited there) find their counterpart at the other end of the social scale: Combien voit-on de personnes populaires & communes, conduictes à la mort, & non à une mort simple, mais meslée de honte & quelque fois de griefs tourmens, y apporter une telle asseurance . . . qu’on n’y aperçoit rien de changé de leur estat ordinaire: establissans leurs affaires domestiques, se recommandans à leurs amis. [How many persons from among the common folk do we see, led to their death, and not to a simple death, but one mixed with shame and some- times with grievous torments, bring to it such an assurance  .  .  .  that we notice nothing changed from their ordinary manner: putting their domestic affairs in order, commending themselves to their friends.] (I: 14, 51a, DM 55–56; 34*) These two passages in I: 14 and I: 44 are the only ones in the Essays where anyone puts his “affaires domestiques” in order. Here Montaigne sees (“j’ay remarqué pour chose rare de voir,” “Combien voit-on de  .  .  .  ”) another instance of extremes that touch, as they do in chapters I: 4 and I: 54, when the humblest and the most exalted do the same things: face their certain death unmoved (“se tenir si entiers en leur assiette,” “on n’y aperçoit rien de changé de leur estat ordinaire”) and put their domestic affairs in order. The story of Otho’s suicide “a beaucoup de choses pareilles” [has many things like] those of the story of Cato’s, and one of them is that the latter I. Book One 77 likewise echoes a passage in I: 14, one that appears just before the one that Otho’s story echoes: “Or cete mort que les uns appellent des choses horribles la plus horrible, qui ne sçait que d’autres la nomment l’unique port des tour- mens de cete vie? le souverain bien de nature? seul appuy de nostre liberté? & commune et prompte recepte à tous maux?” [Now this death, which some call the most horrible of horrible things, who does not know that others call it the only port of safety from the torments of this life, the sovereign good of nature, the sole support of our freedom, and the common and prompt remedy for all evils?] (I: 14, 51a, DM 55; 33–34*). The unique port in I: 14 finds its unique echo in the port d’Utique in 1: 44; the tourmens of this life in I: 14 find their counterpart in the tourmente [storm] that kept Cato’s allies from leaving the port in I: 44. But this port means exactly the opposite of the other, because the senators would not be safe until they left it, while the port in I: 14 is the place of safety to which one goes. The reason the “unique port” is a refuge is that it is suicide, the act in which both Cato and Otho were about to engage. Their self-immolations, which loom so large in I: 44, are more than matched by those recited in I: 14: the twenty-five heads of households in Milan who killed themselves within a week (I: 14, 53a; 35), the Xantians (I: 14, 53a; 35), and even children (I: 14, 54a; 36). Post- 1588 additions to the list include the wives of Narsinga (I: 14, 52c; 34–35), Turks and Greeks (I: 14, 53c; 35), and Portuguese Jews (I: 14, 53c; 35–36). In another instance of a famously sound sleeper, Marius, even after he had drawn up his forces and given the word for the battle to begin, “se coucha dessoubs un arbre” [lay down under a tree] to rest and fell into such deep slumber that he was just barely awakened by the rout and flight of his men, having seen none of the combat. It was said that it was because he was so tired from lack of sleep “que nature n’en pouvoit plus” [that nature could hold out no longer] (I: 44, 272a, DM 417; 199). The only other passage in the Essays where trees bear witness to the unstoppable force of nature appears in I: 14: “forcerons nous la generale habitude de nature, qui se voit en tout ce qui est vivant sous le ciel, de trambler sous la douleur? Les arbres mesmes semblent gemir aux offences, qu’on leur faict” [Shall we violate the general law of nature, which can be observed in all that lives under heaven, that we shall tremble under pain? The very trees seem to groan at the blows that are given them] (I: 14, 55–56a, DM 64; 37). Another famous personage in I: 44 who needed his rest was Alexander the Great, who on the day appointed for battle against Darius slept so soundly and so late that one of his generals was obliged to come into his room and call him by name two or three times to wake him up (I: 44, 271a; 198). But that same Alexander, in a 1588 addition to I: 14, is presented in an opposite 78 I. Book One light: “Qui rechercha jamais de telle faim la seurté et le repos, qu’Alexandre et Caesar ont faict l’inquietude et les difficultez” [Who ever with such hun- ger sought security and repose as Alexander and Caesar sought unrest and difficulties?] (I: 14, 61b; 42). Alexander in I: 44 provides an example of an unquenchable desire for repose, the sleep from which it was so hard to awaken him; here in I: 14, the same Alexander is cited as one hardly hungry for rest. Both chapters praise his courage in the face of danger, though in precisely opposed ways: in I: 14 he seeks out danger instead of repose; in I: 44 he is so unafraid of danger that he can repose, falling into unworried sleep just before he must face it. 15. Custom and Princely grandeur “On est puny pour s’opiniastrer à une place sans raison” [One is punished for stubbornly defending a place without reason] (I: 15) and “Des lois somptuaires” [On sumptuary laws] (I: 43) Despite their disparate subjects—war and fashion—in both of these chapters the case is made that the lesser should respect the greater, the conclusion is drawn that the greater have certain prerogatives the lesser do not enjoy, and custom is said to sanction that distinction. In I: 15 those attacked by a more powerful enemy are justly punished with death for putting up a use- less resistance (despite what Montaigne says in I: 1, where such behavior is sometimes rewarded with mercy). In 1: 43 he addresses the problem of the lower classes wearing clothing appropriate only to their betters. In both situ- ations princely grandeur is a determining factor. In I: 15 a certain coustume obliges defenders facing long odds to respect the grandeur of a prince. Valor has its limits; when it goes too far, it turns into vice. Thus is born “la coustume” [the custom] of punishing with death those who defend a place that cannot be held. But one must take into account as well “la grandeur du prince conquerant” [the grandeur of the conquering prince], his reputation, the respect he is owed (I: 15, 68a, DM 75, 77; 47, 48). In I: 43 in the choice of what clothes to wear la coustume obliges one to respect the grandeur of a prince: [A] Car dire ainsi, qu’il n’y aura que les princes qui puissent porter du velours & de la tresse d’or, & l’interdire au peuple, qu’est ce autre chose que mettre en credit ces vanitez là, & faire croistre l’envie à chacun d’en user? Que les rois quittent hardiment ces marques de grandeur, ilz en ont assez I. Book One 79 d’autres: [B] telz excez sont plus excusables à tout autre qu’à un prince. [A] Par l’exemple de plusieurs nations nous pouvons apprendre assez de meil- leures façons de nous distinguer exterieurement & nos degrez (ce que j’es- time à la verité estre bien requis en un estat) sans nourrir pour cet effect céte corruption & incommodité si apparente. C’est merveille comment la coustume en ces choses indifferentes plante aiséement & soudain le pied de son authorité. [(A) For to say that none but princes shall be allowed to wear velvet and gold braid, and to forbid them to the people, what else is this but to give prestige to these vanities and increase everyone’s desire to enjoy them? Let kings boldly abandon these marks of grandeur; they have enough others; (B) such excesses are more excusable in any other than in a prince. (A) From the example of many nations we may learn enough better ways of distin- guishing ourselves and our rank externally (which I truly believe to be very necessary in a state), without for this purpose fostering such manifest cor- ruption and harm. It is amazing how easily and quickly custom, in these indifferent things, establishes the footing of its authority.] (I: 43, 268–69ab, DM 409–10; 196*) The “grandeur du prince conquerant” of I: 15 already found an echo in 1580 in the “marques de grandeur” that belong to “les princes” in I: 43. Montaigne would enhance the echo in 1588 by adding another prince with the inser- tion “telz excez sont plus excusables à tout autre qu’à un prince [such excesses are more excusable in any other than in a prince].36 The new prince is much closer to grandeur than the first. The three terms coustume, prince and gran- deur appear in other chapters but only in these two are all three logically con- nected: a custom that obliges one to respect princely grandeur. In another 1588 addition to I: 43 Montaigne complains of the new cus- tom of removing one’s hat in the presence of the king, and even in the pres- ence of the king’s subalterns as well: “contre la forme de nos peres et la particuliere liberté de la noblesse de ce Royaume, nous nous tenons descou- verts bien loing autour d’eux en quelque lieu qu’ils soient: et comme autour d’eux, autour de cent autres, tant nous avons de tiercelets et quartelets de Roys” [contrary to the ways of our fathers and the particular privilege of the nobility of this kingdom, we stand bareheaded at a long distance around our kings, wherever they may be, and not only around them but around a hun- 36. Villey, Tournon, and Balsamo et al. erroneously date these words from 1580. The only edition I could find that correctly shows it to be an addition from 1588 is Screech’s translation (p. 300). 80 I. Book One dred others, so many kinglets and semi-kinglets do we have] (I: 43, 270b; 107*). He subsequently found an anecdote paralleling this one to add to the corresponding chapter: the Portuguese invading the Indies “trouverent des estats avec cette loy universelle et inviolable, que tout ennemy vaincu du Roy en presence, ou de son Lieutenant, est hors de composition de rançon et de mercy” [found states with this universal and inviolable law, that any enemy conquered in the King’s presence, or in that of his lieutenant, is excluded from consideration for ransom or mercy] (I: 15, 68–69c; 48*). In both anec- dotes the king’s presence causes a special rule to be observed (that of having to remain bareheaded in I: 43, that of not being eligible for ransom or mercy in I: 15), a custom that is equally observed in the presence of the king’s lesser versions (his tiercelets and quarterlets in I: 43, his lieutenant in I: 15). 16. Judging Julian Judging “De la punition de la couardise” [On the punishment of cow- ardice] (I: 16) and “De l’inequalité qui est entre nous” [On the inequality that is between us] (I: 42) Consider these two passages, the first from I: 16, the second from I: 42. Ammianus Marcellinus raconte, que l’Empereur Julien condamna dix de ses soldats, qui avoyent tourné le dos à une charge contre les Parthes, à estre dégradés, et apres à souffrir mort, suyvant, dict il, les loix anciennes. Toutes- fois ailleurs pour une pareille faute il en condemne d’autres, seulement à se tenir parmy les prisonniers soubs l’enseigne du bagage. [Ammianus Marcellinus relates that Emperor Julian condemned ten of his soldiers, who had turned their backs in a charge against the Parthians, to be degraded and afterward to suffer death, according, he says, to the ancient laws. Elsewhere, however, for a similar fault, he condemns others merely to stay among the prisoners under the baggage ensign.] (I: 16, 70a, DM 80; 49) Ses courtisans louoient un jour Julien l’Empereur de faire bonne justice: Je m’en orguillerois volontiers, dict il, de ces loüanges, si elles venoient de personnes qui osassent accuser ou mesloüer mes actions contraires, quand elles y seroient. I. Book One 81 [One day the Emperor Julian’s courtiers were praising him for being so just. “I would readily take pride in these praises,” he said, “if they came from people who dared to accuse or dispraise my unjust actions, if there should be any.”] (I: 42, 266–67a, DM 407; 195) These are the only two mentions in Book One of Julian the Apostate, who is important enough to have a chapter devoted entirely to him in the 19th— and central—chapter of Book Two. Both I: 16 and I: 42 concern not only Julian, but the way he administered justice—a justice in both chapters con- tradictory or potentially so: in I: 16 he punishes cowardice in two contrasting ways; in I: 42 he opens up the possibility that while some of his judgments may be just others may be unjust. What is more, the second of these passages appears to refer to the first, since in it he dares his flatterers to remember such a contradictory administration of justice as the first passage in fact recounts. Both anecdotes come from the same source, the Ammianus Marcellinus to whom Montaigne credits the first story in I: 16 and from whom the second is also taken. But how does this help us to read these two chapters? Are these just minor, decorative details and does the real sense of the chapters lie elsewhere? Or are they to be considered as some sort of sign pointing to what makes these chapters parts of a single text? On the face of it, it is hard to imagine a connection between the punishment of cowardice and the inequality between kings and their subjects (the “nous” of I: 42’s title). Yet Montaigne treats of them in such a way as to make them related: what Julian is complaining about in I: 42 is that the overwhelming awe his subjects feel for his royal office prevents them from judging him for his real personal qualities. Mon- taigne complains at the beginning of the chapter that we do not properly judge men if we neglect to distinguish between innate qualities and extrane- ous considerations: “à propos de l’estimation des hommes, c’est merveille que sauf nous nulle chose ne s’estime que par ses propres qualitez. Nous loüons un cheval de ce qu’il est vigoureux & adroit, non de son harnois. . . . Pour- quoy de mesmes n’estimons nous un homme par ce qui est sien?” [apropos of judging men, it is a wonder that, ourselves excepted, nothing is evaluated except by its own qualities. We praise a horse because it is vigorous and skill- ful, not for his harness. . . . Why do we not likewise judge a man by what is his own?] (I: 42, 259a, DM 393; 189). Now “De la punition de la couardise” (I: 16) is even more obviously about judging men. In considering whether cowardice should be punished by death or by shaming, Montaigne argues that we should make a distinction 82 I. Book One entre les fautes qui viennent de nostre foiblesse & celles qui viennent de nostre malice. Car en celles ici nous nous sommes bandés à nostre escient contre les regles de la raison, que nature a empreintes en nous: & en celles là, il semble que nous puissions appeller à garant cete mesme nature, pour nous avoir laissé en telle imperfection & defaillance. [between the faults that come from our weakness and those that come from our malice. For in the latter we have tensed ourselves deliberately against the rules of reason that nature has imprinted in us; and in the former it seems that we can call on this same nature as our warrantor, for having left us in such imperfection and weakness.] (I: 16, 70a, DM 78–79; 48) Human weakness is excusable; malice is not. Hence perhaps the justice in Julian’s decision to punish some with death, and others not. To appreciate the skill with which he could discern those who behaved in a cowardly manner out of malice from those who did so from natural weakness is to be granted an insight into his personal qualities that the flatterers in I: 42 were prevented from seeing. I: 42 thus discusses the general problem (judging our fellow men) of which I: 16 considers a particular instance (judging the conduct, in this case the cowardly conduct, of some men). I: 42’s opposition of extraneous consid- erations vs. innate qualities is paralleled by I: 16’s opposition of cowardly acts vs. the inner motivation for those acts. It is in both cases the latter that must be judged—whether it was “malice” or “weakness” in the case of cowardice. 17. glory, given and taken “Un traict de quelques ambassadeurs” [What some ambassadors did] (I: 17) and “De ne communiquer sa gloire” [On not sharing one’s fame] (I: 41) Montaigne tells in I: 17 of the decision certain French ambassadors made not to communicate to their king François I all that his enemy Charles V told them to tell him because they considered it too insulting. They left out two items in particular, an insult directed at the French army and a challenge to a duel. Montaigne comments, “j’ay trouvé bien estrange, qu’il fut en la puis- sance d’un ambassadeur de dispenser sur les advertissemens, qu’il doit faire à son maistre” [I found it very strange that it should be in the power of an ambassador to make his choice of the information that he should give to his I. Book One 83 master] (I: 17, 73a, DM 85; 188). I: 41 has an anecdote of its own about the same Charles V: Quand l’Empereur Charles cinquiesme passa en Provence l’an 1537 on tient que Anthoine de Leve voyant son maistre resolu de ce voyage, & l’es- timant luy estre merveilleusement glorieux, opinoit toustefois le contraire, & le desconseilloit: a céte fin que toute la gloire & honneur de ce conseil en fut attribué à son maistre. [When the Emperor Charles V came into Provence in the year 1537, they say that Antonio de Lyva, seeing his master resolved on this expedition and believing that it would add wonderfully to his glory, nevertheless expressed a contrary opinion and advised him against it; to this end, that all the glory and honor of this plan should be attributed to his master.] (I: 41, 256a, DM 390; 188) In both stories, a sovereign’s subordinate takes it upon himself, for his sov- ereign’s greater glory, not to communicate à son maistre [to his master] all that he could have said—Charles V’s insulting remarks in I: 17, the sub- ordinate’s own opinion in I: 41. Montaigne approves of Antoine de Leve’s behavior but disapproves of the ambassadors’.37 Although the phrase “à son maistre” appears five other times in the Essays only in these two chapters does it involve not communicating to one’s master. Both these stories—as was the case with those about Julian the Apostate in I: 16 and I: 42—were taken from a single source, in this instance the “histoire du Seigneur de Langey” (I: 17, 73a, DM 84; 50) (actually the Mémoires of Martin and Guil- laume du Bellay) that he credits in one instance but not the other (noted by Balsamo et al., 1353, 1460), as he had likewise done with his source for the two Julian anecdotes, crediting Ammianus Marcellinus in I: 16 but not in I: 42. The two stories display a complementary symmetry in that the message that was supposed to have been communicated from Charles V in I: 17 is not received, while in I: 41 the message that might have been communicated to Charles V (Lyva’s actual opinion about whether the Emperor should visit 37. Timothy Hampton writes that the ambassadors’ decision not to tell all “became a test case for Renaissance writers on diplomacy” and that Montaigne was not the only writer to comment on it. “For Montaigne, the hierarchy of relations between master and servant structures the function of the ambas- sador, who does his duty to the extent that he reports accurately what he has seen” (Fictions of Embassy: Literature and Diplomacy in Early Modern Europe (Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 2009): 49. But the larger picture provided by the echoing and opposing passage in I: 41, where Montaigne approves of a subordinate not telling his sovereign all he might, suggests he might not have felt all that strongly about it. The ambassadors’ silence, for the Essays, serves a larger purpose. 84 I. Book One Provence) is not sent. In no other chapter is a message from or to Charles V not communicated. It is as if the two chapters were communicating with each other. What is more, while I: 41, as its title indicates, is about communicating (or not communicating) and glory, so too is I: 17. Montaigne writes that when he travels he always hopes to learn something “par la communication d’autruy” [by communication with others] (I: 17, 72a, DM 82; 49), trying to get people he meets to talk about subjects they know best. Unfortunately what most often happens is that they prefer to talk about a profession other than their own, “estimant que c’est autant de nouvelle reputation acquise: tesmoing le reproche qu’Archidamus feit à Periander, qu’il quittoit la gloire de bon mede- cin, pour acquerir celle de mauvais poëte” [thinking this is so much new reputation acquired; witness the reproach Archidamus made to Periander, that he was abandoning the glory of a good doctor for that of a bad poet] (I: 17, 72a, DM 82; 49). In symmetrical contrast to Periander’s abandoning his own gloire for one he didn’t deserve but sought for his own aggrandize- ment to acquire, in I: 41 Catulus Luctatius flees the enemy with his soldiers so that they would still appear to be obeying his orders: “c’estoit abandon- ner sa reputation pour couvrir la honte d’autruy” [that was abandoning his reputation to cover the shame of others], thereby showing that he is willing to “communiquer son honneur & d’estrener autruy de sa gloire” [commu- nicate his honor and endow another with his glory] (I: 41, 256a, DM 389; 188*). Both abandon their rightful glory, but one of them does it to selfishly acquire a glory that isn’t his and the other to selflessly give up a glory that is. While Periander hoped to acquire “autant de nouvelle reputation,” Luctatius was willing to “abandonner sa reputation” to cover his soldiers’ shame. 18. empty signs “De la peur” [On fear] (I: 18) and “Consideration sur Cicéron” [A consideration on Cicero] (I: 40) In 1: 18 Montaigne illustrates the power of fear with the story of a “port’en- seigne” [standard-bearer] at the siege of Rome who panicked and ran out through a hole in the ruins with the standard in his hand, thinking he was fleeing the enemy but in fact advancing toward them. But when he saw the latter “se renger pour le soutenir” [draw up their ranks to resist him] he turned around and went back in through the same hole, having ventured three hun- dred paces toward the enemy (I: 18, 75a, DM 88; 52*). Some three hundred I. Book One 85 pages later in the 1580 edition, something of that incident crops up again in Montaigne’s description of what Seneca’s and Epicurus’ letters were not, and by implication what Cicero’s letters were: “ne sont ce pas lettres vuides & descharnées, qui ne se soutienent que par un delicat chois de motz entas- sez & rangez à une juste cadence, ains farcies & pleines de beaux discours de sapience” [these are not mere empty and fleshless letters, holding together only by a delicate choice of words piled up and arranged in precise cadence, but letters stuffed full of the fine arguments of wisdom] (I: 40, 252a, DM 387; 185). Seneca’s and Epicurus’ letters, that is, contain wisdom lacking in Cicero’s, which are empty and fleshless, holding together only by the way their words are chosen and arranged. The words that repeat here are them- selves, in a self-naming metafiction, chosen and arranged. These are the only two places in the Essays where any form of the words “ranger” and “soutenir” appear together, and in both instances it is the former that enables the lat- ter to happen: the besieging troops arrange themselves (se rengent) to bear up against (soutenir) the sortie of which they think the sudden appearance of the enseigne is the sign; it is because Cicero’s delicately chosen words are arranged (rangez) a certain way that his letters hold together (se soutiennent). Cicero’s letters find themselves in a position akin to that of the port’enseigne: “sustained” [soutenues] by that which is “arranged” [rangez], as the standard- bearer was “resisted” [soutenu] in a different sense (indeed, an opposite sense) of the word by the soldiers who were lined up [rangés] against him. What is the point behind this delicate choice of echoing words? The answer may lie in the nature of Montaigne’s criticism of the letters’ author as well as in what happens to those letters. The problem Montaigne claims to have with Cicero’s letters is that they are empty signifiers, devoid for the public of what private meaning they may have originally had, devoid even of that private meaning because they (both Cicero’s and Pliny’s) were never even delivered in the first place: Mais cecy surpasse toute bassesse de coeur en personnes de tel rang, d’avoir voulu tirer quelque principale gloire du caquet & de la parlerie, jusques à y employer les lettres privées écriptes à leurs amis: en maniere, que aucunes ayant failli leur saison pour estre envoyiées, ils les font ce neantmoins publier avec céte digne excuse, qu’ils n’ont pas voulu perdre leur travail & veillées. [But this surpasses all baseness of heart in persons of such rank: to have wanted to derive some great glory from mere babble and talk, to the point of publishing their private letters written to their friends; and even though some of these failed to be sent, they were published nonetheless, with this 86 I. Book One worthy excuse, that the writers did not want to lose their labor and their vigils.] (I: 40, 249a, DM 383; 183) Now the enseigne [the standard] that the standard-bearer carried when he rushed out of the city would in normal circumstances have borne a very spe- cific meaning: that there was an army right behind it charging out to meet the enemy. Such is the meaning that the enemy troops read into it, “estimant que ce fut une sortie que ceux de la ville fissent” [who thought this was a sortie made by those in the city]. But, like the letters Cicero published even though they never reached their addressees—letters that, when published, meant nothing and that never did successfully convey a meaning to a private reader—the enseigne the unwitting soldier bore was a sign devoid of con- tent. Though his gesture, however unintentional, did for one brief moment have a certain magnificent, if empty—and unconscious—eloquence. Mon- taigne may have seen himself in that unwitting sign-bearer, for elsewhere he writes of how one can create meaning without meaning to: “la fortune montre . . . la part qu’elle a en tous ces ouvrages, par les graces et beautez qui s’y treuvent, non seulement sans l’intention, mais sans la cognoissance mesme de l’ouvrier” [Fortune shows  .  .  .  the part she has in all these works by the graces and beauties that are found in them, not only without the workman’s intention, but even without his knowledge] (I: 24, 127a; 93). The Essays are rich in such graces and beauties that closer inspection reveals not to be due to chance after all. One emerges in a post-1588 addition to I: 40 in which Montaigne praises his own writing in the same terms with which he criticized Cicero’s. Cicero’s letters “ne se soutienent que par un delicat chois de motz entassez & rangez à une juste cadence” [hold together only by a delicate choice of words piled up and arranged in precise cadence] (I: 40, 252a, DM 387; 185). Montaigne says of his Essays that no writer has sown his text with more material, so much so that “Pour en ranger davantage, je n’en entasse que les testes” [In order to line up more, I pile up only the heads]. His anecdotes, he adds, often bear the seeds of a material richer and bolder than their immediate use, sounding “un ton plus delicat, et pour moy qui n’en veux exprimer d’avantage, et pour ceux qui rencontreront mon air” [a more delicate note, both for myself, who does not wish to express anything more, and for those who get my drift] (I: 40, 251c; 185*). How strange that Montaigne should castigate Cicero’s style for being nothing but a delicate choice of words piled up [entassez] and arranged [rangez], when he should also say that his own practice of writing is to ranger and entasser in order to create something delicat! Nowhere in the Essays do two of these words, ranger and entasser, appear together but on these two I. Book One 87 neighboring pages from the post-1588 “Consideration sur Cicéron.” That is certainly “un delicat chois de motz” [a delicate choice of words]. Yet his dismissal of Cicero is not absolute: “Fy de l’eloquence qui nous laisse envie de soy, non des choses. Si ce n’est qu’on die que celle de Cicero estant en si extreme perfection se donne corps elle mesme” [Fie on the elo- quence that leaves us craving itself, not things. Unless we say that Cicero’s, being of such extreme perfection, gives itself substance] (I: 40, 252a, DM 388; 185*). Montaigne gives substance to a hidden text within his text by his delicate choice of words, and this is true not only of the choice of words that makes his criticism of Cicero’s writing strangely relevant to his praise of his own but also of the word choices that make that praise parallel the story of the misguided “port’enseigne qui  .  .  .  se jetta l’enseigne au poing hors la ville droit aux ennemis  .  .  .  &  .  .  .  en fin voiant la troupe de monsieur de Bourbon se renger pour le soutenir . . . tournant teste rentra” [standard-bearer who . . . threw himself, standard in hard, outside of the city right toward the enemy . . . and . . . at last seeing Monsieur de Bourbon’s men arrange them- selves to resist him . . . turning his head back, returned] (I: 18, 75a, DM 88, 52*). We recall that Montaigne in that post-1588 addition to “Consideration sur Cicéron” says of his Essays that he has put so much material in them that “Pour en ranger davantage, je n’en entasse que les testes” [To cram in more, I pile up only the heads]. Neither his histoires  .  .  .  ny mes allegations ne servent pas toujours simplement d’exemple, d’authorité ou d’ornement. Je ne les regarde pas seulement par l’usage que j’en tire. Elles portent souvent, hors de mon propos, la semence d’une matiere plus riche et plus hardie, et sonnent à gauche un ton plus delicat, et pour moy qui n’en veux exprimer d’avantage, et pour ceux qui rencontreront mon air. [stories . . . nor my quotations serve always simply for example, authority, or ornament. I do not esteem them solely for the use I derive from them. They often carry, outside of my subject, the seeds of a richer and bolder material, and sound off to the side a more delicate note, both for myself, who do not wish to express anything more, and for those who get my drift.] (I: 40, 251c; 185*) I suggested a moment ago that Montaigne may have seen himself in the stan- dard-bearer. His delicate choice of words indeed points to that possibility, as well as reveals that the anecdote of the “port’enseigne” is an example of what he is referring to when he says that his stories carry the seeds of a richer and 88 I. Book One bolder material and can mean something more than what they mean in their immediate context. Like the “port’enseigne” [the sign carrier] who carried his sign hors [outside] the place in which one would normally have expected him to remain, Montaigne’s stories “portent” their signs hors [outside] the context in which one would have expected them to remain. That delicate choice of words extends to his seeking to ranger so much into his text that only the testes show, for those two words occur together in no other chapter but these. The testes that show are, self-referentially, these— and the one the standard-bearer turned around once he saw the soldiers se ranger against him. Here in summary form are the words repeated between the story of the standard-bearer in I: 18, Montaigne’s description of how he wrote the Essays in I: 40, and his description of how Cicero wrote his letters in I: 40: the standard-bearer: the Essays: Cicero: (I: 18) (I: 40) (I: 40) se renger renger rangez entasse entassez delicat delicat soustenir se soutiennent teste testes port’enseigne portent hors hors One word (renger) is found in all three; four (renger, teste, porte, hors) are shared by the standard-bearer’s story and the description of the Essays; two (renger, soutenir) are shared by the standard-bearer and Cicero; three (renger, entasser, delicat) by the Essays and Cicero. Nowhere else in the Essays do renger and entasser appear together than in the two sequential passages in I: 40, nor renger and teste than in the standard-bearer’s story and the description of the Essays. 19. Prolonging life “Qu’il ne faut juger de nostre heur, qu’apres la mort” [That our happiness must not be judged until after death] (I: 19) and “De la solitude” [On solitude] (I: 39) The exhortation in “De la solitude,” to “s’en contenter, sans desir de prolon- I. Book One 89 gement de vie ny de nom” [be content, with no desire of prolonging life or reputation] (I: 39, 248a, DM 382; 183*) echoes the warning implicit in the cautionary tale of Pompey in I: 19, who died too late, exchanging his status of conqueror of half the world for that of a miserable suppliant to officials of the king of Egypt: “tant cousta à ce grand Pompeius l’alongement de cinq ou six mois de vie” [such was the cost to this great Pompey of lengthening his life five or six months] (I: 19, 79a, DM 92; 54). It is a significant echo, a good example of Montaigne’s penchant for a delicate choice of words: these are the only places where either prolongement or alongement appear in the Essays. He tightened the resemblance in a post-1588 alteration, changing alongement in I: 19 to prolongation. In both passages the same message is conveyed: do not seek to prolong your life. Yet in all other regards the two chapters are opposed. In I: 19 Montaigne keeps insisting that no man should be judged happy until his death, because you never know what might happen: “la fortune quelque fois guette à point nommé le dernier jour de nostre vie pour monstrer sa puis- sance de renverser en un moment ce qu’elle avoit basty en longues années” [Fortune sometimes lies in wait precisely for the last day of our life, to show her power to overturn in a moment what she has built up over many years] (I: 19, 79a, DM 92–93; 54–55). But in I: 39 he insists that we can prepare for our declining years in such a way as to minimize risk. All we have to do, it seems, is to depend on ourselves and not others, as if we were the masters of our fate: “faisons que nostre contentement dépende de nous. Desprenons nous de toutes les liaisons qui nous attachent à autruy. Gaignons sur nous de pouvoir à bon escient vivre seulz & y vivre à nostre aise” [let us make our contentment depend on ourselves; let us cut loose from all the ties that bind us to others; let us win from ourselves the power to live really alone and to live that way at our ease] (I: 39, 240a, DM 364; 177). Both chapters focus in these contrasting ways on the “bout” [end] of one’s “vie” [life], thanks to a 1588 addition to I: 19, “Au jugement de la vie d’autruy, je regarde toujours comment s’en est porté le bout” [In judging the life of another, I always observe how the end turned out] (I: 19, 80b; 55*)— which set up an echo to this passage in I: 39: “Or c’est assez vescu pour autruy, vivons pour nous au moins ce bout de vie” [Now that’s enough lived for others; let us live for ourselves at least this end of life] (I: 39, 242a, DM 368; 178*). In I: 19 this bout of vie is unpredictable, liable to be different from what we expect; in I: 39, on the contrary, it appears that with prudent planning the same bout de vie can be made predictably comfortable, that our future happiness can be made to depend on ourselves. At the same time he made an alternation in I: 39 so that another echo would emerge. In 1580 the text was: “Il faut avoir femmes, enfans, biens 90 I. Book One & sur tout de la santé, qui peut, mais non pas s’y attacher en maniere que nostre bon heur en despende” [One must have wife, children, goods, and above all health, if one can, but not attach ourselves to them in such a way that our happiness depends on them] (I: 39, DM 365–66; 177*). In 1588 he deleted the bon, so that the text would henceforth read “que tout nostre heur en despende” (I: 39, 241b).38 From then on the passage would echo the title of the other chapter: “Qu’il ne faut juger de nostre heur, qu’après la mort”—a title that I: 39, by arguing that we can guarantee “nostre heur” by depending only on ourselves, contradicts. Nowhere else will “nostre heur” appear. 20. unmasking masks “Que philosopher c’est apprendre à mourir” [That to philoso- phize is to learn to die] (I: 20) and “Comme nous pleurons et rions d’une mesme chose” [How we cry and laugh at the same thing] (I: 38) Montaigne seeks to unmask death, particularly on the last page of “Que phi- losopher c’est apprendre à mourir”: Les enfans ont peur de leurs amis mesmes quand ilz les voyent masquez, aussi avons nous. Il faut oster le masque aussi bien des choses que des per- sonnes. Osté qu’il sera, nous ne trouverons au dessoubz, que cete mesme mort, qu’un valet ou simple chambriere passerent dernierement sans peur. [Children fear even their friends when they see them masked, and so do we ours. We must strip the mask from things as well as from persons; when it is off, we shall find beneath only that same death which a valet or a mere chambermaid passed through not long ago without fear.] (I: 20, 96a, DM 120; 68) Another unmasking can take place, however, if we pay attention to where masks and children appear in Montaigne. Beneath the disguise, that is, of their ostensibly different subjects—learning to die vs. laughing and crying at the same thing—chapters I: 20 and I: 38 turn out to be, like the playfellow beneath the mask, surprisingly familiar.39 I: 38 certainly begins with what 38. Though given as 241a in Villey, who ignores the change; in a post-1588 alteration, Montaigne deleted “tout.” 39. As Jean Starobinski also points out, finding that in both essays Montaigne tears away the I. Book One 91 Montaigne tells us we will find once we remove the mask, namely death: Antigonus weeping when presented with the head of his enemy Pyrrhus, the Duke of Lorraine grieving at his enemy’s burial, the count of Monfort showing sorrow over the body of his, and finally Caesar turning his eyes away from the head of his archrival Pompey. As the children at the end of I: 20 were surprised to discover the face of a friend beneath the scary mask, onlookers in the scenes recounted at the beginning of I: 38 may have been surprised to discover Antigonus and Caesar behaving as if the severed head of their enemy were that of a friend. Children—and masks—indeed have a role to play here, as they did in I: 20, for Montaigne goes on to say that il ne faut pas croire que céte contenance fut toute fauce & contrefaicte. . . . Car bien que à la verité la pluspart de nos actions ne soient que masque & fard . . . il faut considerer comme nos ames se trouvent souvent agitées de diverses humeurs. . . . D’où nous voyons non seulement aus enfans qui vont tout nayfvement apres la nature, pleurer & rire souvent de mesme chose. [We must not believe that his countenance was entirely false and coun- terfeit.  .  .  . Although most of our actions are indeed only mask and dis- guise  .  .  .  we must consider how our soul is often agitated by diverse passions. . . . We see children, who quite spontaneously follow nature, often cry and laugh at the same thing.] (I: 38, 233–34a, DM 355–57; 172–73*) Thus, at the moment in I: 38 when its title is implanted in the body of the chapter, Montaigne is alluding not only to that title but also to the chapter with which this one is paired, the one that closed, as this one begins, with a discussion of masks and of children. In a typically Montaignian piece of metafiction, the “mesme chose” that is literally the same thing both in the body of I: 38 and in its title is at the same time the same thing—that is, death—that its associated chapter (I: 20) was almost entirely about, as its title made clear. For Montaigne has recourse to the example of children who laugh and cry at the same thing in order to say that we all do the same, and that this phenomenon is the reason why Antigonus wept when one would have expected him to rejoice. In a post- 1588 addition to I: 20 Montaigne will even enunciate the central thesis of I: 38 (that we laugh and cry at the same thing): “La vie n’est de soy ny bien ny mal: c’est la place du bien et du mal selon que vous la leur faictes” [Life is neither a good nor an evil in itself: it is the scene of good and evil depending on how you make it for them] (I: 20, 93c; 65*). “mask” of death (Montaigne en mouvement [Paris: Gallimard, 1982], 96–98, 107–8). 92 I. Book One In two more post-1588 additions, one to each chapter, Montaigne creates yet another echo, one in which weeping, life, death, and the span of a hun- dred years are all linked. In I: 20 he writes: “c’est pareille folie de pleurer de ce que d’icy à cent ans nous ne vivrons pas, que de pleurer de ce que nous ne vivions pas il y a cent ans” [it is as foolish to weep because we shall not be alive a hundred years from now as it is to weep because we were not alive a hundred years ago] (I: 20, 92c; 64*). In I: 38, Xerxes, contemplating his army cross- ing the Hellespont, quivered with delight to see so many thousands under his command. “Et, tout soudain, en mesme instant, sa pensée luy suggerant comme tant de vies avoient à defailir au plus loing dans un siècle, il refroigna son front, et s’attrista jusques aux larmes” [And quite suddenly, in the same instant, as his thought suggested to him how all those lives would give out within a century at the latest, he knit his brows and was saddened to tears] (I: 38, 235c; 174*). That death is certain to come within a hundred years is a constant in both passages, though in I: 20 it is one’s own death and in I: 38 the death of others. 21. Powers of Attraction “De la force de l’imagination” [On the power of the imagina- tion] (I: 21) and “Du jeune Caton” [On Cato the Younger] (I: 37) Did Cato the Younger kill himself for less than noble motives? Montaigne rejects that idea. “Plutarque dict, que de son temps il y en avoit qui attri- buoient la cause de la mort du jeune Caton à la crainte qu’il avoit eu de Cae sar, dequoy il se picque avecques raison” [Plutarch is rightly annoyed that in his time there were some who attributed the cause of the younger Cato’s death to the fear he had of Caesar] (I: 37, 231a, DM 352; 170), whose armies were about to overrun Cato’s. In other words, “Il y en a, qui de frayeur anticipent la main du bourreau” [There are some who, out of fear, antici- pate the hand of the executioner]. What is interesting is that those “other words” come from the companion chapter, “De la force de l’imagination” (I: 21, 98a, DM 121; 68–69). Fear is the supposed cause of death in both instances, even though Cato was not said (by those to whose slander Mon- taigne objects) to have died, as do those awaiting execution in I: 21, from the power of imagination itself, but by his own hand. Often not only do related topics emerge in these parallel chapters but the same words too. In the two passages concerning death by fright “il y en avoit qui” [there were some who] I. Book One 93 attributed the cause of Cato’s death to the fear he had of Caesar, while “Il y en a qui” [There are some who], out of fear anticipate the executioner’s hand. Consider the multiple echoes that surface in this sentence from the chap- ter on Cato: “il ne se recognoit plus d’action vertueuse. Celles qui en portent le visage elles n’en ont pas pourtant l’essence. Car le profit, la gloire, la crainte, l’acoutumance, & autres telles causes estrangeres nous acheminent à les pro- duire” [There are no more virtuous actions to be seen; those that wear vir- tue’s face do not for all that have its essence; for profit, glory, fear, habit, and other such extraneous causes lead us to produce them] (I: 37, 230a, DM 351; 170*). This chapter, especially in its 1580 version, was about the difference between surface appearances and deeper truth, and thus about the desirabil- ity of penetrating to the essence of human behavior. Essence is at issue in the other chapter, the only other place in Book One in 1580 where the word appears: Gallus Vibius “banda si bien son ame, & la tendit à comprendre & imaginer l’essence de la folie” [strained his soul so hard, and stretched it to understand and imagine the essence of madness] (I: 21, 98a, DM 121; 68*) that he went mad. One thing these verbal and other echoes sometimes show is a playfulness on Montaigne’s part, with one chapter undercutting the seri- ousness of the other. This is evident as well in the way the causality linking visage and produire in the sentence from I: 37 quoted above finds a weird par- allel in the anecdote Montaigne tells in I: 21 of Cyppus, who having atten- tively watched a bullfight and then dreamed all night of horns on his head, “les produit en son front” [produced them on his forehead] (I: 21, 98a, DM 122; 69*) by the power of imagination. His visage was considerably altered by what was “produced” by the force of imagination, in a comic counterpart to the serious observation in the companion chapter that actions have the visage of virtue, but only the visage, because of the causes having nothing to do with virtue that lead us to produce those actions. A substantial post-1588 addition at the end of I: 37 adds more paral- lels. From the beginning (i.e., 1580) the chapter had closed with five poetic quotations (from Martial, Manilius, Lucan, Horace, and Virgil) in praise of Cato. In the addition he prefaces them by imagining how an “enfant bien nourry” [well-educated child] (I: 37, 231c; 171*) would judge them, find- ing the third more vigorous than the first two but ruined by excess, clap- ping his hands at the fourth, and thunderstruck by the fifth. He sets up the well-educated child as an ideal reader, his response a good indication of Montaigne’s own appreciation of the five passages he is about to quote. Now he matches this in a concurrent post-1588 addition near the end of the com- panion chapter in which he speaks of himself as a child deficient in literary prowess: “il n’est rien si contraire à mon stile qu’une narration estendue: je 94 I. Book One me recouppe si souvent à faute d’haleine, Je n’ay ny composition, ny explica- tion qui vaille, ignorant au-delà d’un enfant des frases et vocables qui servent aux choses plus communes” [there is nothing so contrary to my style as an extended narration. I cut myself off so often for lack of breath; I have neither composition nor development that is worth anything; I am more ignorant than a child of the phrases and terms that serve for the commonest things] (I: 21, 106c; 76). In this post-1588 addition appearing in the same place in I: 21 as the other one does in I: 37, that is at the conclusion of the chapter, Montaigne also uses a child, though an ignorant one this time—thus con- forming to his frequent practice in these symmetrical echoes of matching what is at once both the same and precisely the opposite—as a standard by which literary value may be judged. And he identifies himself with the child in both instances, despite the child being ignorant in one instance but well- informed in the other. In I: 37 the well-informed child’s opinion of each poetic quotation is the same as his; in I: 21 the child’s ignorance is the same as his. This is a metafictional moment, for the genius of Montaigne’s writing style, certainly that aspect of it that concerns us in this study, is that he writes in fragments (cutting himself off as he says for lack of breath) instead of in an extended narration, and yet the fragments are connected. The various parts of an extended narration are connected by continuity and context; even when they are not continuous they are still part of the same story. Montaigne con- nects his pieces in a radically different way, and what is metafictional about this passage is that his complaint that his literary ignorance is like a child’s is itself one of the connections. In an anecdote dating from the 1580 edition, he writes in I: 21 of a cat staring at a bird perched at the top of a tree, “et, s’estans fichez la veuë ferme l’un contre l’autre quelque espace de temps” [and, after they had been locked in a firm gaze one against the other for some time], the bird fell as if dead between the cat’s paws, either intoxicated by its own imagination “ou attiré par quelque force attractive du chat” [or drawn by some attracting force of the cat] (I: 21, 105a, DM 151; 75*). In a post-1588 addition to I: 37 the “veuë ferme” and the situation of being “attiré par quelque force attractive” find their echoes (the beauty to which he is alluding is that of poetry when it is so good as to be “excessive” and “divine”): Quiconque en discerne la beauté d’une veue ferme et rassise, il ne la void pas, non plus que la splendeur d’un esclair. Elle ne pratique point nostre jugement: elle le ravit et ravage. La fureur qui espoinçonne celuy qui la sçait penetrer, fiert encores un tiers à la luy ouyr traitter et reciter: comme I. Book One 95 l’aymant, non seulement attire un’aiguille, mais infond encores en icelle sa faculté d’en attirer d’autres. [Whoever discerns its beauty with a firm and settled gaze does not see it, any more than he sees the splendor of a lightning flash. It does not persuade our judgment, it ravishes and overwhelms it. The frenzy that goads the man who can penetrate it also strikes a third person on hearing him discuss it and recite it, as a magnet not only attracts a needle but infuses into it its own faculty of attracting others.] (I: 37, 231–32c; 171*) Divine poetry resembles the cat in having a strange attractive force, yet is just the opposite in that its attractive force cannot be received by regarding it with a “veuë ferme.” 22. Complementarities and Buried Allusions “Le profit de l’un est dommage de l’autre” [One man’s profit is another man’s loss] (I: 22) and “De l’usage de se vestir” [On the custom of wearing clothes] (I: 36) At about three hundred thirty words one of the shortest chapters in the Essays (and the only one to which no addition was made), I: 22 compels the ques- tion, is this all there is? Of course by now we know that whatever is in any given chapter is not all there is, and that the rest of it can be found in its rela- tion to its symmetrical complement. In the case of I: 22 and I: 36 Montaigne has planted the most obvious of clues to their complementarity by placing in both the expression “generale police”—whose two components appear sepa- rately 42 and 60 times respectively but together only in these two chapters. In I: 22, he writes of Demades of Athens condemning an undertaker for profiting from the death of others. Montaigne remarks that this condemna- tion was unjust, for “il ne se fait nul profit qu’au dommage d’autruy” [no profit is made except at the expense of others], and then reflects that it is an even broader phenomenon than that, for “nature ne se dément point en cela de sa generale police” [Nature here was not belying her general polity], since the birth and growth of anything is the change and corruption of another (I: 22, 107a, DM 132–33; 77*). In I: 36, he wonders whether the tendency of the natives of the New World to wear few or no clothes is forced on them by their warm climate or if it was humanity’s original state. He remarks that we must distinguish man-made from natural laws, and “recourir à la generale 96 I. Book One police du monde, où il n’y peut avoir rien de contrefaict” [turn for advice to the general polity of the world, where there can be nothing counterfeit] (I: 36, 225a, DM 346; 166*). What we would miss if we didn’t read these chapters in twos is that the invention of clothing in I: 36, which goes against the “generale police” of a world in which there can be nothing artificial, is a specific instance of the rule obeyed by another “generale police,” that of nature in I: 22 according to which the birth, nourishment, and growth of each thing is the alteration and corruption of another. For the human race began, he argues in I: 36, with sufficient natural covering against the elements, a protection every other living being still enjoys, “mais comme ceux, qui esteignent par artificielle lumiere celle du jour, nous avons esteint & estouffé nos propres moyens par les moyens empruntez & estrangiers” [but like those that block out the light of day with artificial light, we have extinguished and smothered our own means with borrowed and foreign means] (I: 36, 225a, DM 347; 167*). Our original innate protection has undergone alteration and corruption, extin- guished by what has taken its place. Clothing’s “profit” is the “loss” of that original tougher hide and hair. Metafictionally, the complementarity that is the theme of one of these chapters (I: 22), that everything comes into existence at the expense of some- thing else, is true of the way it relates to the other one. Indeed, all the chap- ters in pairs are each other’s complement. A post-1588 addition to I: 36 enhances the complementarity. I: 22 begins with the first of many examples of the general rule that one person profits from another’s loss, the sale of things necessary for “enterremens” [burials] of which Demades complained. In the addition Montaigne comes up with an instance of a burial that serves the same function as clothing, protection from the cold (he never speaks in that chapter of it having any other purpose): “Alexandre veit une nation en laquelle on enterre les arbres fruittiers en hiver, pour les defendre de la gelée” [Alexander saw a nation in which they bury fruit trees in winter to protect them from the frost] (I: 36, 228c; 169*). 23. Here and there “De la coustume et de ne changer aisément une loy receüe” [On custom, and on not lightly changing an accepted law] (I: 23) and “D’un defaut de nos polices” [On a defect in our polities] (I: 35) The lack to which I: 35’s title alludes is one for which Montaigne’s father, when he was mayor of Bordeaux, had a remedy in mind. It was to set up I. Book One 97 a sort of bulletin board where employers and job-seekers, and others with mutually complementary needs—“des conditions, qui s’entrecherchent” [sit- uations that seek each other out]—could register their requests with an offi- cial appointed for that purpose. It would be a “moyen de nous entr’advertir” [a means of informing each other] and promote commerce and the common weal (I: 35, 223a, DM 343–44; 165*). To this proposed remedy for a lack in our “polices” [polities] I: 23 coun- ters with the assertion that any innovation in our “police” is dangerous: Il y a grand doubte, s’il se peut trouver si evident profit au changement d’une loy receüe telle qu’elle soit, qu’il y a de mal à la remuer: d’autant qu’une police bien instituée c’est comme un bastiment de diverses pieces jointes ensemble d’une telle liaison, qu’il est impossible d’en esbranler la moindre, que tout le corps ne s’en sente. [It is very doubtful whether there can be such evident profit in changing an accepted law, of whatever sort it be, as there is harm in disturbing it; inasmuch as a well set-up polity is like a structure of diverse parts joined together in such a relation that it is impossible to budge the least of them without the whole body feeling it.] (I: 23, 119a, DM 146; 86*) Montaigne’s father, of course, did not propose that a law be changed but that a new one (or a new state institution) be added. Yet that too is condemned in I: 23: the lawmaker of the Thurians ordained that whoever wanted to abol- ish an old law “ou en establir une nouvelle” [or establish a new one] (I: 23, 119a, DM 146; 86) present himself to the public with a rope around his neck so that if the proposal was not adopted he should be immediately strangled. Even just a new way of doing things is censured as well in I: 23. The ephor who cut the two strings Phrynis had added to the harp “ne s’esmaie pas, si elle en vaut mieux, ou si les accords en sont mieux remplis: il luy suffit pour les condamner, que ce soit une alteration de la vieille façon” [does not worry whether music is the better for it or the chords are richer; for him to con- demn them, it is enough that they represent an alteration of the old way] (I: 23, 119a, DM 146–47; 86*). Like Phrynis’ new strings, Montaigne’s father’s innovation would have enriched urban life and commerce, but because it was an innovation would have endangered the stability of the very polity it was intended to improve. The contradiction is striking between Montaigne’s approval of his father’s innovation to remedy a defect in our “polices” in I: 35 and the argument he presents in I: 23 that any innovation whatsoever in our “police” is wrong. But we would probably not have noticed the contradiction unless we read the two 98 I. Book One chapters together. Of course, that is precisely the metafiction awaiting our discovery: I: 23’s condemnation of change and I: 35’s proposal for change are “des conditions, qui s’entrecherchent” [situations that seek each other out] (I: 35, 223a, DM 344; 165*). I: 35’s proposal is a microcosm of what is going on between I: 35 and I: 23. To this I: 23 replies with a microcosm of its own, the polity as “un bastiment de diverses pieces jointes ensemble d’une telle liaison, qu’il est impossible d’en esbranler la moindre, que tout le corps ne s’en sente” [a structure of diverse parts joined together in such a relation that it is impossible to budge the least of them without the whole body feeling it.] (I: 23, 119a, DM 146; 86*). The Essays are such a structure, where important pieces fit together—the opposing chapters, pressing each against the other in the symmetrical design. Were one to go missing the whole structure would suffer. 24. How to Paint a dog “Divers evenemens de mesme conseil” [Various outcomes from the same plan] (I: 24) and “La fortune se rencontre souvent au train de la raison” [Fortune is often met in the path of reason] (I: 34) In I: 24 Montaigne recounts that Augustus, on the advice of his wife, par- doned Lucius Cinna when he plotted against his life, a clemency that appears to have preserved the emperor from subsequent conspiracies. But when Fran- çois de Guise followed the same course of action, showing mercy to one would-be assassin, he did not do as well as Augustus, for he died at the hands of another assassin shortly thereafter. Montaigne meditates on how a diversity of outcomes can arise from the same plan, attributing it to the role chance plays in human affairs: “au travers de tous nos projects, de nos conseils & precautions la fortune maintient tousjours la possession des evenemans” [athwart all our plans, counsels, and precautions, Fortune still maintains her grasp on events] (I: 24, 127a, DM 158; 92*). Fortune is fully as much the subject of this chapter as it is of I: 34, where it is directly evoked in the title. Fortune in I: 24 plays a major role not only in political conspiracies but in medicine too, as well as other arts: Il en est de mesmes en la peinture, qu’il eschape par fois des traitz de la main du peintre surpassans sa conception & sa science, qui le tirent luy mesmes en admiration, & qui l’estonnent. Mais la fortune monstre bien I. Book One 99 encores plus evidemmant la part qu’elle a en tous ces ouvrages par les graces & beautez qui s’y treuvent, non seulement sans l’invention,40 mais sans la cognoissance mesmes de l’ouvrier. Un suffisant lecteur descouvre souvant es escritz d’autruy des perfections autres que celles que l’autheur y a mises & aperceües, & y preste des sens & des visages plus riches. [Sometimes there escape from the painter’s hand touches so surpassing his conception and his science as to arouse his wonder and astonishment. But Fortune shows still more evidently the part she has in all these works by the graces and beauties that are found in them, not only without the work- man’s intention, but even without his knowledge. A sufficient reader often discovers in other men’s writings perfections beyond those that the author put in or perceived, and lends them richer meanings and aspects.] (I: 24, 127a, DM 160–61; 93*) Imitating Epimenides (the Cretan who said all Cretans were liars), Montaigne here poses us a paradox of astonishing subtlety. For at the same moment that he is telling us that certain readers are likely to discover things in a text the author never intended, and that the painter is sometimes surprised by the wonder of what he has, without intending to, done, he seems to be invit- ing us to discover just such perfections and richer aspects in the text of the Essays, and to dare us to decide whether it was Fortune that placed it there, or Montaigne himself. For in I: 34 we are told of just such a painter as the one in I: 24 whose science was surpassed by the hand of Fortune—and what is more significant, in the same turn of phrase. Surpassa elle pas Protogenes en la science de son art? Cestuy cy estoit peintre, & ayant parfaict l’image d’un chien las & recreu, à son contentement en toutes les autres parties, mais ne pouvant representer à son gré l’escume & la bave, despité contre sa besongne prit son esponge, & comme elle estoit abreuvée de diverses peintures, la jetta contre pour tout effacer. La fortune porta tout à point le coup à l’endroit de la bouche du chien, & y parfour- nit ce à quoy l’art n’avoit peu attaindre. N’adresse elle pas quelque fois nos conseils & les corige? [Did she not surpass Protogenes in the science of his art? He was a painter, and having completed the picture of a tired and panting dog to his satisfac- tion in all the other parts but unable to show the foam and slaver as he had 40. Changed to “l’intention” in a post-1588 revision. 100 I. Book One desired, vexed with his work, he took his sponge, which was soaked with various colors, and threw it at the picture to blot it out completely. Fortune guided the throw with perfect aptness right to the dog’s mouth, and accom- plished what art had been unable to attain. Does she not sometimes address our plans and correct them?] (I: 34, 221a, DM 341–42; 64*) The last sentence alludes to the “conseil” of I: 24’s title, which is shown in that chapter to be in Fortune’s hands; more remarkably, the combination of surpasser and science appears nowhere else than in these two passages about Fortune guiding the painter’s hand. In the I: 24 passage Montaigne immedi- ately goes on to say that the same thing happens in writing, virtually daring us to wonder if these symmetrically-placed twin instances of Fortune surpass- ing a painter’s science are due to Fortune or to Montaigne. The latter seems far more likely, and the metafiction intentional. The fiction is that Fortune guides the writer’s hand; the metafiction is that it doesn’t. The fiction is that the grace, beauty, and perfection evident in the occurrence of these self- echoing passages in structurally-related parts of the work are the result of Fortune or of the cleverness of the able reader who finds them, and that Montaigne had no idea they were there; the metafiction is that Montaigne knows exactly what he was doing. Both passages are immediately preceded by a discussion of Fortune’s role in medicine. In I: 24, we can see the con- necting tissue in the following passage, when Montaigne says that not only in medicine but also in such other arts as poetry we can see Fortune at work: Nous appellons les medecins heureus, quand ilz arrivent à quelque bonne fin . . . la fortune preste la main à ses operations. . . . Or je dy que non en la medecine seulement, mais en plusieurs arts plus certaines la fortune y a bonne part. Les saillies poetiques, qui emportent leur autheur mesme & le ravissent hors de soy, pourquoy ne les atribuerons nous à son bon heur? puis qu’il confesse luy mesmes qu’elles surpassent sa suffisance & ses forces, & les reconnoit venir d’ailleurs que de soy. [We call doctors fortunate when they attain some good end.  .  .  . Fortune lends her hand in their operations. . . . Now, I say that not only in medi- cine but in many more certain arts Fortune has a large part. Poetic sallies, which transport their author and ravish him out of himself, why shall we not attribute them to his good luck? He himself confesses that they surpass his ability and strength, and acknowledges that they come from something other than himself.] (I: 24, 127a, DM 160–61; 92–93) I. Book One 101 In I: 34, he preceded the passage about Protogenes with this anecdote: Quelque fois elle [la fortune] faict la medecine. Jason Phereus estant aban- donné des medecins pour une apostume, qu’il avoit dans la poitrine, ayant envie de s’en défaire au moins par la mort, se jetta en une bataille à corps perdu dans la presse des ennemis, où il fut blessé à travers le corps si à point que son apostume en creva & guerit. Surpass elle pas Protogenes. . . . ? [Sometimes she [Fortune] practices medicine. Jason of Pheres, given up by the doctors because of an abscess in his chest, wished to get rid of it by death if necessary, and threw himself bodily into the thick of the enemy in a battle, where he was wounded through the body so exactly that his abscess burst and he was cured. Did she not surpass Protogenes . . . ?] (I: 34, 221a, DM 341–42; 164) In the story of Augustus and Cinna, Montaigne recounts that when the emperor was trying to decide whether to pardon him or not among the thoughts going through his mind was this one: “sera il absous ayant deliberé non de me meurtrir seulement, mais de me sacrifier? Car la conjuration estoit faicte de le tuer, comme il feroit quelque sacrifice” [“Shall he be absolved when he has decided not merely to murder me but to sacrifice me?” For the con- spiracy was formed to kill him while he would be performing some sacrifice] (I: 24, 125a, DM 153–54; 91*). In a post-1588 addition to I: 34, Montaigne added an allusion to this passage in recounting another failed assassination attempt. Icetes had persuaded two soldiers to kill Timoleon. “Ils prindrent heure sur le point qu’il fairoit quelque sacrifice” [They chose the hour when he would be performing some sacrifice] (I: 34, 222c; 164*). The phrase occurs in no chapter other than these two. A 1588 addition to I: 34 creates yet another connection to I: 24: “Pour la fin. En ce faict icy se descouvre il pas une bien expresse application de sa faveur, de bonté et pieté singuliere? Ignatius Pere et fils, proscripts par les Triumvirs à Romme, se resolurent à ce genereux office de rendre leurs vies entre les mains l’un de l’autre, et en frustrer la cruauté des Tyrans” [A final example. Does not the fact which is about to be related reveal a very express act of Fortune’s favor, of her singular kindness and piety? The Egnatii, father and son, proscribed by the triumvirs at Rome, resolved on the noble device of giving up their lives at each other’s hands, in order to frustrate the cruelty of the tyrants] (I: 34, 222b; 165). This b-stratum addition, which occurs at the end of the chapter (and would continue to despite later additions), as 102 I. Book One Montaigne emphasizes by prefacing it by “Pour la fin,” matches the last story in I: 24, which likewise tells of someone proscribed by the Triumvirate who decides, like the Egnatii, to die rather than flee. A Roman who, “fuyant la tyrannie du Triumvirat” [fleeing the tyranny of the Triumvirate] (I: 24, 132a; 97), and having escaped his pursuers a thousand times already, decided one day to give up himself up, coming out of his hiding place to call out to some soldiers who had passed right by him, thus “s’abandonnant volontairement à leur cruauté, pour oster eux et luy d’une plus longue peine” [abandoning himself to their cruelty in order to rid them and himself of further trouble] (I: 24, 132a; 97). 25. well-nourished daughters “Du pedantisme” [On pedantry] (I: 25) and “De fuir les voluptez au pris de la vie” [To flee from sensual pleasures at the price of life] (I: 33) I: 33 is surely one of the strangest chapters in the Essays. Very brief (less than two pages in Balsamo et al.) and subject to no additions since its first appear- ance in 1580 (just some slight rewording), it devotes slightly more than half of its space to the story of Saint Hilary of Poitiers and his daughter Abra, “sa fille unique, . . . poursuivie en mariage par les plus apparens seigneurs du pais, comme fille tres bien nourrie, belle, riche, & en la fleur de son aage” [his only daughter, . . . sought in the marriage by the most eminent lords of the country, as a girl well brought up, beautiful, rich, and in the flower of her youth] (I: 33, 219a, DM 336; 162). Hilary wrote her from abroad to say that she should remove her affection from the pleasures and advantages those suitors offered, for he had found a much better husband for her in his travels, who would give her priceless riches. His intent had been to wean her from earthly distractions the better to fit her for heaven, but since it occurred to him that the quickest way to achieve that would be for her to die, he cease- lessly prayed for that to occur. Sure enough, shortly after his return she did succumb, which made him very happy. His wife, impressed with heaven’s attractions and her spouse’s power of prayer, successfully requested the same favor for herself. The chapter begins with a brief exploration of the rather more reason- able notion that “il est heure de mourir lors qu’il y a plus de mal que de bien à vivre: & que de conserver nostre vie à nostre tourment & incommodité I. Book One 103 c’est choquer les reigles mesmes de nature” [it is time to die when there is more evil than good in living; and that to preserve our life to our torment and discomfort is to shock the very laws of nature] (I: 33, 218a, DM 333; 161*). But the ground shifts somewhat when Montaigne considers those who have urged others to consider leaving this life in order to withdraw not from torment but from “des honneurs, richesses, grandeurs, & autres faveurs & biens” [honors, riches, dignities, and other favors and goods] (I: 33, 218a, DM 334; 162). One he has found making such an exhortation is Seneca, who wrote to Lucilius that he should untie the knot that binds him to the pomp of public life and withdraw to a philosophical solitude, and that if he cannot untie it, then he should cut it by withdrawing from life itself. Montaigne finds such advice unsurprising coming from a Stoic like Sen- eca, but it is “estrange qu’il soit emprunté d’Epicurus, qui escrit à ce propos, choses toutes pareilles à Idomeneus” [strange that it should be borrowed from Epicurus, who writes things just like it on this subject to Idomeneus] (I: 33, 218a, DM 335; 162). The chapter then concludes with the story of Saint Hilary, whose infanticidal prayer so shocks the laws of nature to which Mon- taigne appealed in the beginning that one imagines he (not Saint Hilary) must surely be joking. There does seem to be some hint of irony in the man- ner Montaigne introduces this dreadful account: “Si est ce que je pense avoir remerqué quelque traict semblable parmi nos gens, mais avec la moderation Chrestienne. S. Hilaire  .  .  .  ” [Yet I think I have noticed something like it among our people, but with Christian moderation. Saint Hilary . . . ] (I: 33, 219a, DM 335; 162). Christian moderation is more immoderate than the pagan variety, for Hilary “semble encherir sur les autres de ce qu’il s’adresse à ce moyen de prime face, qu’ilz ne prennent que subsidieremant, & puis que c’est à l’endroit de sa fille unique” [seems to outdo the others, in that he addresses himself from the first to this means, which the others adopt only as a subsidiary; and besides, it concerns his only daughter] (I: 33, 219a, DM 336–37; 162). What is repeated in this chapter, besides the motif of death’s attractiveness, is repetition itself: the reappearance of a sentiment (death’s seductiveness) in a context where it seems out of place. What was appropri- ate for the stoic Seneca to say was less so for the original Epicurean and still less so for a father with regard to his daughter. Montaigne begins I: 25 by recalling that as a child he wondered why it is that schoolmasters are more often the butt of jokes than objects of respect. As an adult he began to see that in fact they often proved to be ridiculous figures, puffed up by borrowed wisdom that they were incapable of use- fully applying to their own lives. Yet he continued to wonder why men who 104 I. Book One possessed such riches were not improved by them: “Mais d’où il puisse adve- nir qu’une ame garnie de la connoissance de tant de choses n’en deviene pas plus vive & plus esveillée, & qu’un esprit grossier & vulgaire puisse loger en soy, sans s’amender, les discours & les jugemens des plus excellens espritz que le monde ait porté, j’en suis encore en doute” [But how it is possible that a soul furnished with the knowledge of so many things should not thereby become keener and more alert, and that a crude and commonplace mind can harbor within itself, without being improved, the reasonings and judgments of the greatest minds that the world has produced—that still has me puzzled] (I: 25, 134a, DM 168; 98*). Borrowed knowledge doesn’t seem to rub off on the new owner. “Nous de mesmes, nous prenons en garde les opinions & le sçavoir d’autruy, & puis c’est tout, il les faut faire nostres. . . . Que nous sert il d’avoir la panse pleine de viande, si elle ne se digere, si elle ne se trans- forme en nous?” [We do the same, taking the opinions and the knowledge of others into our keeping, and then that is all. We must make them our own. . . . What good does it do us to have our belly full of meat if it is not digested, if it is not transformed into us?] (I: 25, 137a, DM 174; 101*). Both chapters, then, are about borrowed ideas, yet in precisely opposite ways. In 1: 25 Montaigne criticizes those who borrow opinions from others without making them their own, whereas in I: 33 the borrowed opinion para- doxically belongs more to the borrower (Seneca) than to the one he borrowed it from (Epicurus). On a metafictional level, borrowing is what goes on between symmetri- cally linked chapters that repeat each others’ discourse. In the case of these two, the borrowing is about borrowing itself. It is also about Hilary’s daugh- ter, who was “poursuivie en mariage . . . comme fille tres bien nourrie” [pur- sued in marriage . . . as a girl well brought up] (I: 33, 219a, DM 335; 162). For in I: 25 Montaigne writes of another daughter valued in the marriage market because of how she was “nourrie”: François duc de Bretaigne  .  .  .  , comme on luy parla de son mariage avec Isabeau fille d’Escosse, & qu’on luy adjouta qu’elle avoit esté nourrie sim- plement & sans aucune instruction de lettres, respondit qu’il l’en aimoit mieux, & que une fame estoit assez sçavante quand elle sçavoit mettre dif- ference entre la chemise & le pourpoint de son mary. [Francis, duke of Brittany  .  .  .  when they were talking to him about his marriage with Isabel, a princess of Scotland, and told him that she had been brought up simply and without any instruction in letters, replied that he I. Book One 105 loved her the better for it, and that a woman was learned enough when she knew how to distinguish between her husband’s shirt and his doublet.] (I: 25, 140a, DM 180; 103) The verbal echo is not only striking but unique, as no other “fille nourrie” appears in the Essays. Villey explains in a footnote that when Montaigne says that Hilary’s “fille” was “tres bien nourrie” he means “D’une très bonne édu- cation” [with a very good education] (219n), which is precisely the opposite of the way the “fille” in I: 25 was “nourrie”: “simplement & sans aucune instruction de lettres” [simply and without any instruction in letters]. Abra would not have been seduced by her father’s advice had she been, like Isa- beau, illiterate, for Hilary had communicated it to her in a letter (as Seneca had to Lucilius and Epicurus to Idomeneus). As it was his theology that made Hilary desire his daughter’s death, so too was it theology that kept Isabeau unlettered: “& nous & la Theologie ne requerons pas beaucoup de science aux fames” [neither we nor theology require much learning of women] (I: 25, 140a, DM 179–80; 103), Montaigne writes, in introducing the anec- dote about Isabeau and her husband’s contentment in her education, or lack thereof. A third case of borrowing appears in the title of I: 33. For the motif of fleeing “les voluptez” was already present in I: 25’s discourse on what ought to be taught to the young: in Sparta they were taught “à se desmeler des appats de la volupté” [to disentangle themselves from the lures of sensual plea- sure] (I: 25, 143a, DM 184; 105). A fourth instance of borrowing emerges when we realize that what Seneca advised Lucilius to do—“de se retirer de céte presse du monde, à quelque vie solitaire, tranquille & philosophique” [to retire from this crowded world to some solitary, tranquil and philosophical life] (I: 33, 218a, DM 334; 162*)— was anticipated in the companion chapter by the “philosophes retirez de toute occupation publique” [philosophers retired from all public occupation] who were “mesprisés par la liberté comique de leur temps: mais au rebours des nostres” [mocked by the comic license of their times, but treated in the opposite way in ours] (I: 25, 134a, DM 169; 98*).41 What Seneca wants for Lucilius, in other words—short of death—is the vocation that was the ancient, and nobler, equivalent of the figure that in its debased modern form is the subject of the chapter with which this one is symmetrically paired, the pedant detached from the world. 41. A post-1588 revision deleted “mais au rebours des nostres.” 106 I. Book One 26. god’s wrath and the weather “De l’institution des enfans” [On the education of children] (I: 26) and “Qu’il faut sobrement se mesler de juger des ordon- nances divines” [That we should meddle soberly with judging divine ordinances] (I: 32) Chapter I: 26 is obviously about the education of children, but in the follow- ing passage it also touches on the topic at the heart of I: 32, the difficulty of figuring out the will of God based on what happens around us: Quand les vignes gelent en son vilage mon prestre en argumente l’Ire de Dieu sur la race humaine, & juge que la pepie en tienne des-jà les Canni- bales. A voir nos gueres civiles, qui ne crie que céte machine se bouleverse, & que le jour du jugement nous tient au colet, sans s’adviser que plusieurs pires choses se sont veües, & que les dix mille parts du monde ne laissent pas de galler le bon temps ce pendant. A qui il gresle sur la teste tout l’he- misphere semble estre en tempeste & orage. [When the vines freeze in his village my priest argues from it God’s wrath on the human race, and judges that the Cannibals are already dying of the croup! Seeing our civil wars, who does not cry out that this mechanism is being turned upside-down and that the day of judgment has us by the throat, without reflecting that many worse things have happened, and that ten thousand parts of the world are meanwhile having a fine old time. To whom hail falls on the head the whole hemisphere seems to be in tempest and storm.] (I: 26, 157a, DM 206–7; 116*) In I: 32 he argues that God’s judgment is not behind the outcomes of those same civil wars, alluding in particular to the Protestants who were claiming that a recent victory meant that God favored their cause: aux guerres où nous sommes pour la religion, ceux qui eurent l’advantage au rencontre de la Rochelabeille faisans grand feste de cet accident, & se servans de céte fortune pour certain approbation de leur party: quand ils viennent apres à excuser leurs defortunes de Moncontour & de Jarnac, sur ce que ce sont verges & chastimemens paternelz, s’ilz n’ont un peuple du tout à leur mercy ilz luy font assez aisément sentir que c’est prendre d’un sac deux mouldures, & de mesme bouche souffler le chaud & le froid. I. Book One 107 [In the wars we are in for the sake of religion, those who had the advantage in the encounter at La Rochelabeille make much ado about this incident and use their good fortune as a sure approbation of their party; but when they come later to excuse their misfortunes at Moncontour and Jarnac as being fatherly rods and chastisements, unless they have their following com- pletely at their mercy, they make the people sense readily enough that this is getting two grinding fees for one sack, and blowing hot and cold with the same mouth.] (I: 32, 216a, DM 331–32; 160*) In both chapters Montaigne argues that one cannot figure out God’s inten- tion from the outcome of events on earth, and in particular from the limited perspective of those trying to figure it out. In I: 26, his point is that as bad as the damage from France’s civil wars may be, it doesn’t mean that it is the end of the world for the rest of the world. In I: 32, though his point is that the Protestants who interpret their victories as a sign of God’s favor and their defeats as his fatherly chastisements are speaking out of both sides of their mouth, at the same time he reveals that their point of view is just as limited as those in I: 26 who think the end of the world has come, since they think that the outcome of their battles is entirely determined by what is going on between them and God. In I: 32 he complains of people who claim to discern God’s designs, faisans estat de trouver les causes de chasque accident, & de veoir dans les secretz de la volonté divine, les motifs incomprehensibles de ses operations. Et quoy que la varieté & discordance continuelle des evenemens les rejette de coin en coin, & d’orient en occident, ils ne laissent de suivre pourtant leur esteuf, & de mesme creon peindre le blanc & le noir. [claiming to find the cause of every incident and to see in the secrets of the divine will the incomprehensible motives of his works; and although the variety and continual discordance of events tosses them from corner to cor- ner and from east to west, yet they do not stop chasing their ball and paint- ing black and white with the same pencil.] (I: 32, 215a, DM 331; 160) The village priest in I: 26 had made the same mistake, claiming to discern God’s judgments and to see their consequences on earth. But viewed from another angle, these two chapters are precisely opposed on this topic, for while the priest claimed to know what was happening in the land of the Cannibals, which is to say in the western hemisphere, because he assumed 108 I. Book One that what was true in his little locality was true everywhere else, those Mon- taigne criticizes in I: 32 are in fact confronted with the evidence that things are not the same everywhere, and this “discordance continuelle” sends them “d’orient en occident”—which just happens to be the same direction the priest’s extrapolations took him, as he imagined what the weather in the west- ern hemisphere was based on what was happening on his side of the Atlantic. This mutual echoing and opposing symmetry has a metafictional reso- nance, for when in both chapters Montaigne argues against ignoring what may be happening in the rest of the world, in some other hemisphere, he may be nudging his readers toward the realization that there is more going on than they suspect, that something happening in a chapter in the book’s other hemisphere (the one on the other side of the dividing line formed by the central chapter) may be relevant to what is happening in the chapter they are reading. Things can happen together in both hemispheres on the lexical level, too. The passage in I: 32 in which the Protestants counted their losses at Mont- contour and Jarnac as mere “verges & chastimemens paternelz” [paternal rods and punishments] (I: 32, 216a, DM 331; 160*) finds an echo in a post-1588 addition to I: 26 where Montaigne expresses his disgust with the “façon de chastiement” [manner of punishment] schoolmasters employed, which Villey in a note tells us was to strike the pupils with “verges” (166n4)—as in fact Montaigne makes explicit in the next sentence, though he does not use that word, when he writes of classrooms “jonchées  .  .  .  de tronçons d’osier san- glants” [strewn . . . with bloody birch rods] (I: 26, 166c; 123*). Nowhere else in Book One does a chastiement (as a noun) appear in the form of unspared rods. As we have seen, Montaigne goes on in that passage about the Protes- tants to say that their boasting of a victory as proof that God is on their side and yet saying of their defeats that they are just a fatherly chastisement (as opposed to indicating he was not on their side) is to “de mesme bouche souf- fler le chaud & le froid” [blow hot and cold with the same mouth] (I: 32, 216a, DM 331–32; 160*). As he did with the post-1588 addition to I: 26 of an allusion to punishment by rods, he makes another post-1588 addition to I: 26 to set up an echo with this passage. It consists of four words inserted into a sentence dating from the 1580 edition. He writes that it is a wide- spread opinion that a boy should not be raised by his parents because their affection would prevent them from inuring him to hardship: “(A) Ils ne le sçauroient souffrir revenir suant et poudreux de son exercice, (C) boire chaud, boire froid, (A) ny le voir sur un cheval rebours” [(A)They could not endure his returning sweating dusty from his exercise, (C) drinking hot, drinking cold, I. Book One 109 (A) or see him on a skittish horse] (I: 26, 153ac; 113). Nowhere else do chaud and froid appear in the same mouth. In that same passage in I: 32 about the Protestants having it both ways, we can find, sandwiched between the chastising rods and the cold and the hot in the same mouth yet another lexical link to the companion chapter: “c’est prendre d’un sac deux mouldures” [it is to get two grinding fees for one sack] (I: 32, 216a; DM 331; 160*). This finds its parallel in what Montaigne says about the benefits of foreign travel for the child one intends to educate: “pour faire d’une pierre deux coups” [to make two blows with one stone] (I: 26, 153a, DM 199; 112), he should be taken at a very early age to neighbor- ing countries where the language is most distant from our own because if the language acquisition does not begin early the tongue cannot be formed. The other “coup” for the “pierre” of travel for the child is to learn foreign customs and ways of thinking, and to “frotter et limer nostre cervelle contre celle d’autruy” [to rub and polish our brains by contact with those of others] (I: 26, 153a, DM 199; 112). Both the passage in I: 32 and this one in 1: 26 are ones where more than one lexical echo appears, which suggests that Montaigne purposely planted them in both. The allusion to getting two payments for producing the same sack of grain appears, as noted, between the other two echoes of chastising rods and blowing hot and cold; the idea of getting two for one with regard to taking the young abroad occurs immediately before the passage about the disadvantage of doting parents raise their own child into which he inserted “boire chaud, boire froid” with its allusion to “souffler le chaud et le froid” in the other passage. On the metafictional level, Montaigne gets two uses out of the topos itself of getting two uses out of the same thing by placing that topos in symmetri- cally matching chapters. One use is the purpose it serves in its immediate context in each chapter, as a way of advancing the argument being made; the other is that of pointing to the Essays’ symmetrical structure. 27. things to Come “C’est folie de rapporter le vray et le faux à nostre suffisance” [It is folly to measure the true and false by our own compe- tence] (I: 27) and “Des cannibales” [On cannibals] (I: 31) Julius Caesar held that “il est souvent advenu que la nouvelle a devancé l’accident” [it has often happened that the report has preceded the event] (I: 110 I. Book One 27, 180a, DM 247; 133). Ordinarily, writes Montaigne, we would dismiss such a claim had we heard it from a figure of lesser stature. He laughs, for example, at Froissart’s assertion that the Comte de Foix learned of the defeat of King John of Castille in a distant city the day after it took place. Yet not only did Caesar make such a claim, but Plutarch did as well, writing that the news of Antonius’ defeat in Germany was made public in Rome on the very day it happened. Montaigne argues that we should not dismiss such a seeming impossibility out of hand, for that would show a lack of respect for Caesar and Plutarch: “dirons nous pas que ces simples gens la se sont laissés piper apres le vulgaire?” [shall we say that these simple men let themselves be tricked like the common herd?] (I: 27, 180–81a, 133–34*). In a clever twist, Montaigne arranges for his denial that Plutarch and Caesar could have been “pipés” [tricked] into believing that the report could precede the event itself seem like the report of an event yet to come when in the accompanying chapter “Des cannibales” (I: 31) he writes that the Native Americans who were brought to Rouen were “bien miserables de s’estre laissés piper” [very much to be pitied for having let themselves be tricked ] (I: 31, 213a, DM 326; 158–59) by the desire to see new things. Montaigne is open not only to the possibility of reports anticipating events as Caesar and Plutarch allege but also to that of the “prognostique des choses futures” [prognostication of future things] (I: 27, 179a, DM 243; 132*) in general. That particular prognostication metafictionally prognosti- cates itself, for in I: 31 a prophet among the cannibals “prognostique les choses à venir” [prognosticates things to come] (I: 31, 208a, DM 313; 154*)—words that appear together nowhere else. In both chapters Montaigne writes of simple folk and their ability or inability to discern the truth. He begins I: 27 with the suggestion that “Ce n’est pas à l’adventure sans raison, que nous attribuons à simplesse & à igno- rance la facilité de croire & de se laisser persuader . . . à estre menés par les oreilles” [Perhaps it is not without reason that we attribute to simplicity and ignorance a readiness to believe and to be persuaded  .  .  .  to be led by the ears] (I: 27, 178a, DM 242–43; 132*). But he says the opposite in I: 31 in presenting a certain simple man as a reliable witness precisely because of his simplicity. The man had lived for a decade or more in the New World and was Montaigne’s source for many details on the life of its inhabitants. “Cet homme que j’avoy, estoit homme simple & grossier, qui est une condition propre à rendre veritable tesmoignage. . . . Ou il faut un homme tres fidele, ou si simple qu’il n’ait pas dequoy bastir & donner de la vrai-semblance à des inventions fauces” [This man I had was a very simple and crude fellow, which is a condition likely to produce true testimony. . . . You need either a I. Book One 111 very honest man, or one so simple that he has not the stuff to build up false inventions and give them verisimilitude] (I: 31, 205a, DM 303–04; 152*). Clearly the two chapters are speaking the same language, as if they were con- versing together, for the two terms “faux” and “vray semblable” appear when Montaigne in I: 27 points out that simple folk are not necessarily wrong in their belief in prophecy: “c’est une sotte presumption d’aller desdeignant & condamnant pour faux ce qui ne nous samble pas vray semblable” [it is fool- ish presumption to go around disdaining and condemning as false what does not strike us as plausible] (I: 27, 178a, DM 243; 132*). A man less simple and ignorant than Montaigne’s eyewitness would be inclined to embroider the truth to show off his knowledge. Je voudray que chacun escrivit ce qu’il sçait, & autant qu’il sçait, non en cela seulement, mais en tous autres subjectz. Car tel peut avoir quelque par- ticuliere science ou experiance de la nature d’une riviere ou d’une fontaine, qui ne sçait au reste, que ce que chacun sçait. Il entreprendra toutes fois pour faire courir ce petit lopin, d’escrire toute la physique. [I would like everyone to write what he knows, and as much as he knows, not only in this, but in all other subjects; for a man may have some spe- cial knowledge and experience of the nature of a river or a fountain, who in other matters knows only what everybody knows. However, to circulate this little scrap of knowledge, he will undertake to write the whole of phys- ics.] (I: 31, 205a, DM 305; 152) The man projecting from his knowledge of a river useless conclusions about things of which he is as ignorant as anyone else finds a counterpart in I: 27 in a man who projects an inaccurate conclusion from his ignorance of a river: “Celuy qui n’avoit jamais veu de riviere à la premiere qu’il r’encontra il pensa que ce fut l’Ocean” [He who had never seen a river thought that the first one he came across was the ocean] (I: 27, 179a, DM 245; 133). But Montaigne himself comes close to resembling that man in a 1588 addition to I: 31 in which he says that if the Dordogne River doesn’t stop eroding its banks it will change the face of the world—as if it had the destructive powers of an ocean: Quand je considere l’impression que ma riviere de Dordoigne faict de mon temps, vers la rive droicte de sa descente, & qu’en vingt ans elle a tant gai- gné, & desrobé le fondement à plusieurs bastimens, je vois bien que c’est une agitation extraordinaire: car si elle fut tousjours allée ce train, ou deut aller à l’advenir, la figure du monde seroit renversée. 112 I. Book One [When I consider the inroads that my river, the Dordogne, is making in my lifetime into the right bank in its descent, and that in twenty years it has gained so much ground and stolen away the foundations of several buildings, I clearly see that this is an extraordinary disturbance; for if it had always gone at this rate, or was to do so in the future, the face of the world would be turned topsy-turvy.] (I: 31, 204b; 151) 28. Of immoderation “De l’amitié” [Of friendship] (I: 28) and “De la moderation” [Of moderation] (I: 30) From its first sentence—“Comme si nous avions l’attouchement infaict, nous corrompons par nostre maniement les choses, qui d’elles mesmes sont belles & bonnes” [As if our touch were infectious, by our handling them we cor- rupt things that of themselves are beautiful and good] (I: 30, 197a, DM 293; 146*)—chapter I: 30 enters into dialogue with chapter I: 28. For in the latter Montaigne presents La Boétie’s De la servitude volontaire as something beau- tiful and good that has been corrupted by contagion. He begins the chapter by saying that he thinks so highly of his friend’s text that he will put it in the middle of his own book, for lack of something good enough from his own pen to occupy that place of honor. Considerant la conduicte de la besoingne d’un peintre que j’ay, il m’a pris envie de l’ensuivre. Il choisit le plus noble endroit & milieu de chasque paroy, pour y loger un tableau elabouré de toute sa suffisance, & le vuide tout au tour il le remplit de crotesques, qui sont peintures fantasques, n’ayants grace qu’en la varieté & estrangeté. Que sont-ce icy aussi à la verité que crotesques & corps monstrueux, rappiecez de divers membres, sans certaine figure, n’ayants ordre, suite ny proportion que fortuite? . . . Je vay bien jusques à ce segond point avec mon peintre, mais je demeure court en l’autre, & meilleure partie. Car ma suffisance ne va pas si avant que d’oser entreprendre un tableau riche poly & formé selon l’art: je me suis advisé d’en emprunter un d’Estienne de la Boitie qui honorera tout le reste de céte besogne. C’est un discours auquel il donna nom De la servitude volon- taire.  .  .  . Il court pieça es mains des gens d’entendement, non sans bien grande & meritée recommandation. Car il est gentil, & plein tout ce qu’il est possible. I. Book One 113 [As I was considering the way a painter I employ went about his work, I was taken with the desire to imitate him. He chooses the noblest place, the middle of each wall, to place a picture labored over with all his skill, and the empty space all around it he fills with grotesques, which are fantastic paint- ings whose only charm lies in their variety and strangeness. What are these here42 too, in truth, but grotesques and monstrous bodies, pieced together of diverse members, with no definite shape, having no order, sequence, or proportion other than by chance? . . . I do indeed go along with my painter in this second point, but I fall short in the first and better part; for my abil- ity does not go far enough for me to dare to undertake a rich and polished picture, formed according to art. I have decided to borrow one from Esti- enne de la Boitie which will do honor to all the rest of this work. It is a dis- course to which he gave the name Of Voluntary Servitude.  .  .  . It has long been circulating in the hands of men of understanding, not without great and well-merited commendation, for it is a fine thing, and as full as can be.] (I: 28, 183–84a, DM 252–54; 135*) He goes on to write of friendship in general and of his friendship with La Boétie in particular, before concluding—or at first appearing to conclude— the chapter with these words: “Mais oions un peu parler ce garson de dix- huict ans” [But let us listen a little to this eighteen-year-old boy speak] (I: 28: 194a, DM 273; 144*). That sentence is followed in the 1580 edition by a line of three asterisks and then this surprising declaration: “Parce que j’ay trouvé que cet ouvrage a esté depuis mis en lumiere & à mauvaise fin, par ceux qui cherchent à troubler & changer l’estat de nostre police sans se sou- cier s’ils l’amenderont, qu’ils ont melé à d’autres escris de leur farine je me suis dedit de le loger icy” [Because I have found that this work has since been brought to light, with evil intent, by those who seek to disturb and change the state of our government without worrying whether they will improve it, and because they have mixed his work up with some of their own concoc- tions, I have renounced placing it here] (I: 28, 194a, DM 273; 144*). The fine and beautiful thing that was the Servitude volontaire has been spoiled by the contagion of the “autres escris” [other writings] with which it has been “melé” [mixed]. Unlike La Boétie’s essay, which, although it was an argu- ment against tyranny, did not advocate that any current monarch be over- thrown, the other writings with which the Protestants surrounded his text in Mémoires sur l’Estat de France sous Charles IX in 1576 did precisely that. In 42. Meaning the Essays. 114 I. Book One such company, the Servitude volontaire risked guilt by association, as would Montaigne if he republished it in his Essays. But what are we to make of the fact that what Montaigne presents as a surprising event of which he was not aware when he promised his readers that he would place the Servitude volontaire in the center of the first book of his Essays—the Protestants’ contaminating it by their infectious touch— is itself echoed in the very first words of the other chapter? The event he recounts and I: 30’s first words are not only parallel but each other’s opposite, for the Protestants contaminated La Boétie’s text with evil intent while the corrupting contagion in I: 30 is entirely innocent, or at worst comes from an excess of zeal. The “maniement” [handling] in this same first sentence of I: 30 (“Comme si nous avions l’attouchement infaict, nous corrompons par nostre maniement les choses, qui d’elles mesmes sont belles & bonnes”) finds its own echo in I: 28: La Boétie’s essay “court pieça es mains des gens d’entendement, non sans bien grande & meritée recommandation” [has long been circulating in the hands of men of understanding, not without great and well-merited commendation] (I: 28, 184a, DM 253; 135). That han- dling with good intent is just the kind of thing the first sentence of I: 30 would at first glance appear to be talking about except that the outcome is precisely the opposite. The Servitude volontaire was not corrupted by that handling, though it clearly was by the infection it received at the hands of the Protestants. Much of what Montaigne says of La Boétie’s essay turns out to func- tion as a fiction in the metafiction I: 28 and I: 30 together form. The plot thickens when he informs us, after saying he will not include the Servitude volontaire after all, that he just happened to have been sent another text by La Boétie: Or en eschange de cet ouvrage serieux j’en substitueray un autre produit en céte mesme saison de son aage plus gaillard & plus enjoüé, ce sont vint & neuf sonnets que le sieur de Poiferré homme d’affaires & d’entendement, qui le connoissoit longtemps avant moy a retrouvé par fortune chez luy parmy quelques autres papiers, & me les vient d’envoyer. [Now in exchange for this serious work I will substitute another product of the same season of his life, more gallant and more playful. They are 29 sonnets that the Sieur de Poiferré, a man of business and of understand- ing, who knew him long before I did, found by chance at his house among some other papers, and has just sent to me.] (I: 28, 195a(n), DM 274–75; not in Frame) I. Book One 115 As Gabriel-André Pérouse remarks, there is something fishy about this: Fate would have it that, during those same months, the good Sieur de Poi- ferré should send him the manuscript of Étienne’s “Twenty-Nine Sonnets.” Montaigne then begins a new chapter to put them in. . . . Can one really believe their publication was a mere stop-gap? If so, certain facts would be difficult to explain. To line up twenty-nine poems for a chapter that just happens to bear the number twenty-nine can hardly be laid to chance. What is more, the twenty-ninth chapter of a Book containing fifty-seven is not a neutral place—yet in the end these sonnets occupy it.43 Something else suggests that Montaigne is not telling the truth when he presents the twenty-nine sonnets as a last-minute stopgap. His very words “je me suis dedit de le loger icy” [I have renounced placing it here], when he announces that he will not give us the Servitude volontaire after all, are echoed in the sonnets themselves: “je me desdiray / De mes sonnetz” [I will renounce / My sonnets] (sonnet 16, lines 12–13; DM 285). Nowhere else in the 1580 edition will the first-person speaker “se dédire” [literally, to unsay oneself ]. In both cases what is “unsaid,” or going to be, is the inclusion of a text within the larger text. In I: 28 Montaigne “unsays” his promise to include the Ser- vitude volontaire in the middle of his Book (that is, Book One); the speaker in the poem says he will “unsay” the two immediately preceding sonnets, numbers 14 and 15—at the center of the sequence of twenty-nine—because in them he criticized his beloved for her duplicitous “parler double” [double speech] (sonnet 14, line 8; DM 284). In the same way that what happened to the Servitude volontaire that supposedly made Montaigne not want to publish it was inscribed in the echoing parallels uniting chapters I: 28 and I: 30, his supposed renouncement of the Servitude volontaire was already inscribed in the text that would replace it, in which its middle—the position the Servi- tude volontaire would have occupied in Montaigne’s first Book—is likewise to be excluded. Yet the speaker in the sonnets will not in the end have to 43. P. 78 of Gabriel-André Pérouse, “Montaigne, son lecteur et les Vingt-neuf sonnets d’Étienne de La Boétie,” Montaigne Studies11.1–2 (1999): 77–86. Raymond C. La Charité put forward the hy- pothesis that it was only after the 29 sonnets came into Montaigne’s possession that he decided to make it the 29th of 57 chapters. “With the pre-publication of the Servitude Volontaire, it must have seemed appropriate and symmetrical to him to place the 29 sonnets in chapter 29. Thus, the ‘plus bel endroit’ would be numerically marked as well and, as a result, in order to remain central, ‘chaque paroy’ would have to consist of 28 chapters.” But since (in La Charité’s surmise) he had not yet divided the remain- ing 93 chapters into books, “37 leftover chapters would simply have to spill over into a separate unit or ‘book.’” “ . . . Book II as a separate entity is the product of an accident” (p. 41 of “The Coherence of Montaigne’s First Book,” in L’Esprit Créateur 20.1 [Spring 1980]: 36–45). 116 I. Book One dislodge sonnets 14 and 15, for his beloved forgives him (in sonnet 19) for writing them and he decides to keep them in the sequence: “c’est pour vous punir” [it is to punish you], he declares, addressing the offending sonnets, “qu’ores je vous pardonne” [that I pardon you now] (sonnet 20, line 14; DM 287).44 I would like to return to the opening sentence of “De la moderation” in order to examine what immediately follows it: Comme si nous avions l’attouchement infaict, nous corrompons par nostre maniement les choses, qui d’elles mesmes sont belles & bonnes. Nous pouvons saisir la vertu: de façon qu’elle en deviendra vicieuse. Comme il advient quand nous l’embrassons d’un desir trop aspre & trop violant. [As if our touch were infectious, by our handling them we corrupt things that of themselves are beautiful and good. We can grasp virtue in such a way that it will become vicious. As it happens when we embrace it with a desire too sharp and too violent.] (I: 30, 197a, DM 293; 146*) It happens that too sharp [aspre] a desire is a problem in I: 28 as well: “l’af- fection envers les fames” [love of women] creates a fire that is “plus actif, plus cuisant, & plus aspre” [more active, more scorching, and more sharp] than friendly affection, for “En l’amitié, c’est une chaleur generale & uni- versele, temperée . . . qui n’a rien d’aspre” [In friendship it is a general, uni- versal, and temperate warmth . . . that has nothing sharp] (I: 28, 185–86a, DM 258–59; 137*). Friendship is thus more moderate than heterosexual desire. But through a post-1588 addition to I: 28, that chapter joins I: 30 in speaking of what is immoderate in love as well, and these are the only chapters in Book One where the adjective “immodéré” in any form appears. It appears when Montaigne alludes to “les insolents et passionnez efforts que peut produire une ardeur immoderée” [the insolent and passionate acts that immoderate ardor can produce] (I: 28, 187c; 138) in a homosexual lover. In I: 30 immoderation likewise can arise from love that, like homosexuality, is out of the ordinary: the marriage of blood relatives. Montaigne writes that he seems to remember reading somewhere in Thomas Aquinas that in such a case 44. I will have more to say about the sonnets in chapter IV, including a discussion of the words and turns of phrase they feature that appear nowhere but in the other two middle chapters, II: 19 and III: 7—further evidence that Montaigne’s promise in I: 28 to put the Servitude volontaire in that place of honor was always a fiction. I. Book One 117 il y a danger que l’amitié qu’on porte à une telle femme soit immoderée. Car si l’affection maritalle s’y trouve entiere & parfaicte, comme elle doit, & qu’on la surcharge encore de celle qu’on doit à la parantelle: il n’y a point de doubte, que ce surcroist n’emporte un tel mary hors les barrieres de la raison, soit en l’amitié, soit aux effaitz de la jouissance. [there is a danger that the affection a man bears to such a wife will be immoderate; for if conjugal love is entire and perfect, as it should be, and you add to it also that which is due to kinship, there is no doubt that this increase will carry such a husband beyond the barriers of reason, whether in friendship or in the effects of sexual enjoyment.] (I: 30, 198a; DM 294; 147*) What Montaigne says in this passage about how conjugal love should be “entiere & parfaicte” echoes, strangely, what he said in I: 28 about his friend- ship with La Boétie: “céte amitié que nous avons nourrie, tant que Dieu a voulu, entre nous, si entiere & si parfaite, que certainement il ne s’en lit guiere de pareilles” [this friendship which together we fostered, as long as God willed, so entire and so perfect that certainly one could hardly read of the like] (I: 28, 184a, DM 255; 136*). As Montaigne was surely aware, one can indeed read of the like in the companion chapter, though nowhere else in Book One, from which the phrase is otherwise absent. Does this mean that his friendship with La Boétie had something conjugal about it? Françoise Charpentier suggests it might. “It is impossible, having arrived at this point,” she writes, with reference to I: 28, “not to pose ourselves the problem of the homosexuality of Montaigne. All the less possible, or even more necessary, because he poses it himself, and thus invites the reader to do so.”45 45. P. 184 of Françoise Charpentier, “Figure de La Boétie dans les ‘Essais’ de Montaigne,” Revue française de psychanalyse 52 (Jan.–Feb. 1988): 175–89. What counts here is the story Montaigne tells in I: 28 of their friendship and its relation to I: 30, not whether their relation was homosexual. As David Lewis Schaefer suggests, it may all be a fiction: “a moving, if somewhat mawkish (and quite possibly fictitious) account of [their] affectionate union” (The Political Philosophy of Montaigne [Ithaca: Cornell University Press, 1990], 342). As Floyd Gray observed, “If we read the essay of 1580, and then read it as it appears in the edition of 1595, . . . then we are tempted to ask whether Montaigne wrote on friendship because of La Boétie, or if La Boétie came into the essay because he was writing an essay on friendship” (p. 205 of “Montaigne’s Friends,” French Studies 15.3 [July 1961]: 203–212). Todd W. Reeser, borrowing an expression of Robert D. Cottrell’s (in the latter’s Sexuality / Textuality [Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1981], 34), writes that in I: 28 “La Boétie could be read not so much as a flesh-and-blood friend of Montaigne’s but rather as . . . ‘an operational concept,’ an absence in the life of Montaigne that sparks him to create a discursive presence. Homosexuality, like La Boétie, is employed as an operational concept that helps create an ethical boundary” (Moderating Masculinity in Early Modern Culture [Chapel Hill: North Carolina Studies in the Romances Languages and Literatures, 2006], 214). However, William J. Beck writes, “As homosexuality is defined today, 118 I. Book One Apart from the tantalizing hints about Montaigne and La Boétie’s friend- ship that reading between the lines of these two chapters may give us, “De l’amitié” and “De la moderation” show, just like all the other symmetrically linked chapters in Book One, that they speak the same language to the extent of almost seeming to be having a friendly conversation. One striking instance has become invisible to most readers, ever since Montaigne in 1588 removed the words between “comme” and “richesses” in the following passage: Quand aux mariages, outre ce que c’est un marché qui n’a que l’entrée libre, sa durée estant contrainte & forcée, dependant d’ailleurs que de nostre vou- loir, & marché qui ordinairement se faict à autres fins: comme de la genera- tion, alliances, richesses. . . .  [As for marriages, beyond the fact that it is a bargain to which only the entrance is free—its continuance being constrained and forced, depending otherwise than on our will—and a bargain ordinarily made for other ends: such as generation, alliances, riches . . . ] (I: 28, 186a, DM 260; 137*) Here, one of marriage’s “fins” is “la generation”; the same point is made, though in a stronger way, in the companion chapter: “C’est une religieuse liaison & devote que le mariage.  .  .  .  sa principale fin c’est la generation” [Marriage is a religious and holy bond . . . its principal end is generation] (I: 30, 198–99a, DM 295; 147). In no other passage in the Essays is “generation” a “fin,” nor of course is it said to be such in marriage. it must be admitted that the friendship between Montaigne and La Boétie, as chaste as it could have been, remains, given the depth, intensity, and vigor with which Montaigne celebrates it, a homosexual one, at least at a rudimentary level, for the mind, if not the body” (p. 44 of William J. Beck, “Mon- taigne face à l’homosexualité,” Bulletin de la société des amis de Montaigne, 6th series: 9–10 [1982]: 41–50). 119 1. sorting Out the Pieces “De l’inconstance de nos actions” [Of the inconstancy of our actions] (II: 1) and “De la ressemblance des enfans aux peres” [Of the resemblance of children to fathers] (II: 37) “De la ressemblance des enfans aux peres” was the Essays’ concluding chapter in the original 1580 edition. So it was appropriate that it should begin with a reflection, though brief, on the Essais themselves: “Ce fagotage de tant de diverses pieces se fait en céte condition, que je n’y metz la main que lors qu’une trop láche oysiveté me presse, & non ailleurs que chez moi” [This bundle of so many disparate pieces is being composed in this manner: I set my hand to it only when pressed by too lax an idleness, and nowhere but at home] (II: 37, 758a, DM 599; 574*). Barbara Bowen remarks that “there is no reason why” the term “fagotage” should be taken as pejorative, for it is “the art of stacking lengths of wood in a wood-pile, which requires skill and practice.”1 But even if we do take it as pejorative we know that elsewhere such self-deprecating remarks are not what they seem. In “De l’oysiveté” 1. P. 147 of Barbara Bowen, “What does Montaigne mean by ‘marqueterie’?,” Studies in Philology 67. 2 (1970): 147–55. i i BOOk twO 120 II. Book Two (I: 8), the chapter of which the dominant role Montaigne here gives to his “oysiveté” should remind us, we recall that the “pleine oysiveté” [full idle- ness] he allowed to engulf him brought forth chimera and monsters “les uns sur les autres, sans ordre, & sans propos” [one after another, without order and without purpose] (I: 8, 33a; DM 32; 21*). We recall as well that this self-deprecating aside is echoed but ultimately contradicted by the way he describes his writing practice in “De Democritus et Heraclitus”: “sans des- sein et sans promesse” [without design and without promise] (I: 50, 302c; 219*)—contradicted, that is, by the evident order and design that led to those parallel descriptions appearing in symmetrically matching chapters. The metafiction (the order and design that the work as a whole reveals, par- ticularly the part I: 8 and I: 50 play in it) contradicts the fiction (expressed separately in I: 8 and I: 50) that there is no order. “De l’inconstance de nos actions” and “De la ressemblance des enfans aux peres” speak together in a metafictional way of the “pieces” of which this “fagotage” is composed. In both chapters, “pieces” is an almost obsessively repeated term. In II: 1 it chiefly refers to the various and usually contradic- tory aspects of a man’s life, as seen by a potential biographer or by that man himself as he attempts to live his life in accord with certain consistent prin- ciples.2 In II: 37, the context is medical (the principal resemblance between Montaigne and his father being their antipathy to doctors), and “pieces” refer both to patients’ symptoms and their appropriate remedies. The doc- tor “a besoin de trop de pieces” [needs too many pieces] to properly calculate “son dessein” [his plan]. These “pieces” include the patient’s constitution, his temperature, his humors, his symptoms, his actions, even his thoughts, such external circumstances as the weather and the position of the planets, and the properties of the drug to be administered. “Et faut que toutes ces pieces, il les sçache proportionner & rapporter l’une à l’autre, pour en engendrer une parfaicte symmetrie” [and he must know how to proportion all these pieces and relate them to one another to engender a perfect symmetry] (II: 37, 773a, DM 626–27; 587*). It is an impossible task, as in the corresponding chapter is the task of “Ceux qui s’exercitent à contreroller les actions humaines” [Those who strive to account for human actions], for they “ne se trouvent en nulle partie si empeschez qu’à les rappiesser & mettre à mesme lustre. Car elles se contre- disent quelque fois de si estrange façon, qu’il semble impossible qu’elles 2. As André Tournon remarks, “the same behavioral trait is presented now as an indication of moral weakness, now as an obstacle to understanding.” André Tournon, La Glose et l’essai (Lyon: Presses Universitaires de Lyon, 1983), 76. II. Book Two 121 soient parties de mesme boutique” [are never more perplexed than when they try to piece them together and show them in the same light. For they contra- dict each other sometimes so strangely that it seems impossible that they have come from the same shop] (II: 1, 331a, DM 1; 239*). Young Marius is at one moment a son of Mars, at another a son of Venus. Nero, famous for his cruelty, was nevertheless sick at heart when he had to sign a death warrant. There are so many examples of this “que je trouve estrange de voir quelque fois des gens d’entendement se mettre en peine d’assortir ces pieces” [that I find it strange to see sometimes men of understanding taking pains to match these pieces together] (II: 1, 332a, DM 2; 239). “Nostre faict ce ne sont que pieces rapportées” [Our actions are nothing but a pieced-together patchwork] (II: I, 336a, DM 8; 243)—but we can “rapporter” [relate] these “pieces rap- portées” with what Montaigne says in the passage just quoted about the doctor’s task: “Et faut que toutes ces pieces, il les sçache proportionner & rapporter l’une à l’autre, pour en engendrer une parfaicte symmetrie” [and he must know how to proportion all these pieces and relate them to one another in order to create a perfect symmetry]. The astonishing thing is that what is engendered when we do this is indeed a “symmetrie,” for these echoing passages appear in the first and last chapters of the Essays’ second volume. Another passage in II: 1 likewise symmetrically anticipates the doctor’s task: “Il est impossible de renger les pieces, à qui n’a une forme du tout en sa teste: à quoy faire la provision des couleurs, à qui ne sçait ce qu’il a à peindre” [A man who does not have in his head a picture of the whole cannot possibly arrange the pieces. What good does it do a man to lay in a supply of paints if he does not know what he is to paint?] (II: 1, 337a, DM 9; 243*). That it is impossible to arrange the pieces without a form of the whole in mind implies the converse, that with a mental image of the whole it might be possible to arrange them. We recall that in describing the way he arranged his Essays in “De l’amitié” (I: 28)—as “grotesques”—he said he was imitating a painter. Hence, perhaps, the relevance of laying in a supply of colors. 2. slipping it in “De l’yvrongnerie” [Of drunkenness] (II: 2) and “Des plus excel- lens hommes” [Of the most excellent men] (II: 36) In II: 36 Montaigne justifies choosing Homer, Alexander, and Epaminondas as the three highest examples of human excellence, distinguishing each from his competitors for the title—Homer from Virgil, Alexander from Caesar, 122 II. Book Two Epaminondas from Scipio Aemilianus. In II: 2 he begins by making distinc- tions too, not among paragons of virtue but varieties of vice: “Les vices sont tous pareilz en ce qu’ilz sont tous vices  .  .  .  mais  .  .  .  ilz ne sont pas egaus vices” [Vices are all alike in that they are all vices  .  .  .  but  .  .  .  they are not equal vices] (II: 2, 339a, DM 11; 244). From then on he concentrates on one vice in particular, drunkenness. But apart from their being devoted, respectively, to a consideration of virtue and of vice, II: 2 and II: 36 are exactly opposed with regard to the matter of deviating from the norm of the human condition. II: 36 is entirely devoted to praising men famous for having done exactly that: “trois excel- lans au dessus de tous les autres” [three who excel above all the rest] (II: 36, 751a, DM 591; 569*); Homer was “quasi au dessus de l’humaine condition” [almost above the human condition] (II: 36, 752a, DM 592; 569*), and Alexander, Montaigne would add in 1588, had he lived to a normal age would have become “quelque chose au dessus de l’homme” [something super- human] (II: 36, 754b; 571). But in II: 2 Montaigne finds that going above (or below) the norm is far from a good thing: “Toutes actions hors les bornes ordinaires sont sujettes à sinistre interpretation, d’autant que nostre goust n’advient non plus à ce qui est au dessus de lui qu’à ce qui est au dessous” [All actions outside the ordinary limits are subject to sinister interpretation, inasmuch as our taste responds no more to what is above it than to what is below] (II: 2, 346a, DM 16–17; 250). Montaigne counts Epaminondas among his three most “excellens hom- mes” because “quant à ses meurs & conscience il a de bien loing surpassé tous ceux, qui se sont jamais meslés de manier affaires” [as for his character and conscience, he very far surpassed all those who have ever undertaken to manage affairs] (II: 36, 756a, DM 598; 573). In the companion chapter the excellent surpass the human norm as well: Platon dit que pour neant hurte à la porte de la poesie un homme ras- sis. Aussi dict Aristote que null’ame excellente n’est exempte de quelque meslange de folie. Et a quelque raison d’appeller fureur tout eslancement tant louable soit il, qui surpasse notre propre jugement & discours: d’autant que la sagesse c’est un maniemant reglé de nostre ame, & qu’elle conduit avec mesure & proportion. [Plato says that a sedate man knocks in vain on the door of poetry. Like- wise Aristotle says that no excellent soul is free from an admixture of mad- ness. And he is right to call madness any transport, however, laudable, that surpasses our own judgment and reason; inasmuch as wisdom is an orderly II. Book Two 123 management of our soul, which she conducts with measure and propor- tion.] (II: 2, 347–48a, DM 19; 251*) In a post-1588 addition to II: 2, Montaigne writes at length of his father, to whom he had not alluded in previous versions of this chapter. It seems strange that he should do so, for his father is not, after all, here portrayed as greatly given to drink. Montaigne eases into this paternal reminiscence by remarking that the previous generation seemed to drink more, and that the reason the present one does not is that “nous nous sommes beaucoup plus jettez à la paillardise que noz peres. Ce sont deux occupations qui s’en- trempeschent en leur vigueur” [we are much more addicted to lechery than were our fathers. These two occupations interfere with each other in their vigor] (II: 2, 343c; 247). His father could attest to his generation’s lack of interest in erotic pursuits—“C’est merveille des comptes que j’ay ouy faire à mon pere de la chasteté de son siecle” [It is marvelous what stories I have heard my father tell of the chastity of his day] (II: 2, 343c; 247)—yet he personally was not at all typical of his times: “C’estoit à luy d’en dire, estant tresadvenant, et par art et par nature, à l’usage des dames” [He was the man to tell them, being very well suited to the service of the ladies, both by nature and by art] and “recitoit des estranges privautez, nommeement siennes, aveq des honnestes femmes sans soupçon quelconque” [would tell of remarkable intimacies, especially of his own, with respectable women, free from any sus- picion] (II: 2, 344c; 248). But there may be another reason for the insertion of this page about his father into this chapter: to provide more opportunity for echoes with II: 36—or perhaps even to pay homage to that father by showing (though in a somewhat indirect and veiled way) that he shared some of the excellence of those men, particularly of Epaminondas and Alexander. For of Epami- nondas Montaigne writes that “jamais homme ne sçeut tant, et parla si peu que luy” [never did a man know so much, and speak so little, as he] (II: 36, 756a; 573), while his father too “parloit peu et bien” [spoke little and well] (II: 2, 343c; 247). In a post-1588 addition to the discussion of Epaminon- das immediately after “parla si peu que luy,” Montaigne inserts an echo to the other quality he at the same moment (that is, in his post-1588 revisions) attributes to his father, that he spoke not only little but well: “Car il estoit Pythagorique de secte. Et ce qu’il parla nul ne parla jamais mieux” [For he was a Pythagorean in sect. And what he did say, no man ever said better] (II: 36, 756c; 573).3 As for Alexander, among his excellent virtues was the 3. The Pythagoreans were known for their vow of silence. 124 II. Book Two “foy en ses parolles” [ fidelity to his word] (II: 36, 754b; 571). This was true of Montaigne’s father as well: “Monstrueuse foy en ses parolles” [Prodigious fidel- ity to his word] (II: 2, 343c; 248*). Nowhere else does the phrase “foy en ses parolles” appear, nor do the expressions “parloit peu” (Montaigne’s father, in II: 2) or “parla . . . peu” (Epaminondas, in II: 36) find an echo in any form of parler with peu. Alexander was known for having “à l’aage de trente trois ans, passé vic- torieux toute la terre habitable” [at the age of thirty-three, passed victori- ously over all the habitable earth] (II: 36, 754a; 571), wherein thirty-three is notable for being remarkably young—as Montaigne goes on to emphasize in a 1588 addition at this point, calling Alexander’s span of years “une demye vie” [half a lifetime] and wondering what he might have accomplished had he lived “un juste terme d’aage” [a normal life span] (II: 36, 754b; 571). Montaigne’s father, on the other hand, is noteworthy for having done some- thing for which thirty-three is remarkably old: he “avoit eu fort longue part aux guerres delà les monts.  .  .  . Aussi se maria-il bien avant en aage, l’an 1528—qui estoit son trente-troisiesme—retournant d’Italie” [he had taken a very long part in the Italian wars. . . . Consequently he married well along in age, in the year 1528, which was his thirty-third, on his return from Italy] (II: 2, 344c; 248). Not only does his age match Alexander’s, and not only is there a symmetrical opposition in that for one the age is remarkably young yet for the other remarkably old, but for both that age marks the end of their military career. Another post-1588 addition testifies to Montaigne’s continuing desire to forge links between these chapters, for it is an interestingly roundabout way of inserting Epaminondas’ name into “De l’yvrongnerie”: Je n’eusse pas creu d’yvresse si profonde, estoufée et ensevelie, si je n’eusse leu cecy dans les histoires; qu’Attalus ayant convié à souper, pour luy faire une notable indignité ce Pausanias qui, sur ce mesme subject, tua depuis Philippus, Roy de Macedoine—Roy portant par ses belles quali- tez tesmoignage de la nourriture qu’il avoit prinse en la maison et compa- gnie d’Epaminondas,—il le fit tant boire qu’il peut abandonner sa beauté, insensiblement, comme le corps d’une putain buissonnière, aux muletiers et nombre d’abjects serviteurs de sa maison. [I should not have believed in a drunkenness so deep, so dead and buried, if I had not read of this instance of it in the histories. Attalus, having invited Pausanias to supper in order to do him some notable indignity—that same Pausanias who for this same reason later killed Philip, king of Macedon, a II. Book Two 125 king who by his fine qualities bore witness to the education he had received in the house and company of Epaminondas—made him drink so much that he could abandon his body insensibly, like the body of some whore under a hedge, to the muleteers and a number of vile slaves of Attalus’ household.] (II: 2, 341c; 246) Montaigne’s ability to slip in this allusion to the chapter to which this one is symmetrically linked—for Epaminondas has nothing to do with this story, being only tangentially related to another story involving a participant in this one—is only matched by the prowess of just such a low servant as the ones who took advantage of the situation here, for in the very next anecdote he tells (still in this post-1588 addition) how a young farmhand was able to insert himself unnoticed into a chaste but inebriated and hence unsuspecting young widow, leaving her to be greatly puzzled over her subsequent preg- nancy (II: 2, 341–42c; 246). Perhaps Montaigne as well has taken advantage of the cover of drunkenness—as a topic of discourse, if not a condition— to slip in “la semence d’une matiere plus riche et plus hardie” [the seeds of a richer and bolder material] (I: 40, 251c; 185). It would be one way of imitating the prowess of that father who had been so adept at conduct- ing “estranges privautez . . . aveq des honnestes femmes sans soupçon quel- conque” [remarkable intimacies . . . with respectable women, free from any suspicion] (II: 2, 344c; 248). 3. suicide is Painless “Coustume de l’isle de Cea” [A custom of the island of Cea] (II: 3) and “De trois bonnes femmes” [Of three good wives] (II: 35) What is done surreptitiously in II: 2 could not be carried out more openly than it is in II: 3 and II: 35. For a more obvious case of two symmetrically placed chapters linked by a common subject could hardly be imagined than that of these two treatises on suicide (unless it be the “cruauté” [cruelty] linking II: 11 and II: 27 in their titles). The custom in question in II: 3 is that of voluntarily ending one’s life when one has lived enough, though the instance recounted of a ninety-year-old woman on Cea (and hence the reso- lution of the mystery of the title4) is saved until the end; her relatively happy 4. A mystery not entirely resolved, for Montaigne presents no other examples of inhabitants of Cea doing away with themselves. One instance hardly justifies calling it a custom. André Tourn- on points out that although the woman tells her fellow citizens why she has decided to take her life 126 II. Book Two self-inflicted exit is preceded by a veritable holocaust of less happy ones: a Lacedaemonian boy, Servius the grammarian, Speusippus, Cato, the virgins of Miletus, Therycion, Cleomenes, Cassius, Brutus, Damocritus, Antinous, Theodotus, the Sicilian of Gozo, the Jewish women besieged by Antiochus, Libo, Razis, Pelagia, Sophronia, Lucius Aruntius, Granius Silvanus, Statius Proximus, plus at least thirty-seven more together with the inhabitants of entire cities. The three good wives in II: 35 are good precisely because they com- mit suicide, showing their love for their husband by accompanying them in death. The first two encourage their husbands to do this difficult thing by doing it themselves. The wife of a man who suffered from genital ulcers and who told him, upon examining them, that he had better kill himself, lashed her body to his and together they leapt into the sea. In doing so she and her husband, having resolved that they “se precipiteroient en la mer” [would throw themselves into the sea] (II: 35, 745a, DM 577; 564*) involuntarily (on their part, but perhaps not Montaigne’s) echo two sets of suicides in the matching chapter: Cleombrotus of Ambracia, who was inspired by Plato’s Phaedo to taste of the life to come, and consequently “s’alla precipiter en la mer” [went and threw himself in the sea] (II: 3, 360a, DM 32; 260), and the inhabitants of the Hyperborean region who, tired of life, decided to “se precipiter en la mer” [throw themselves into the sea] (II: 3, 362a, DM 35; 262). In the 1580 edition of the Essays these strikingly similar expressions would make their only appearances in these two chapters. In the second case, Arria, the wife of Cecinna Paetus, who had taken part in an unsuccessful rebellion against the emperor Claudius but was reluctant to carry out his suicide, took her husband’s dagger, plunged it into her stom- ach, then drew it back out and handed it to him, saying “tien Paetus il ne m’a point fait de mal” [See, Paetus, I felt no pain] (II: 35, 747a, DM 580; 565*). Shamed by her example, he followed suit. The third good wife was Seneca’s young spouse, who did not need to encourage her husband but wanted to accompany him in death; Nero, however, had her wounds closed. A 1588 addition to II: 3 counters the three good wives of II: 35 with three self-sacrificing wives of its own, of which the first two offer a clear and straightforward parallel to those in II: 35: “Sextilia, femme de Scaurus, et “nothing tells us that she asked their permission” (Route par ailleurs, 93). Montaigne goes on to cite a genuine instance of suicide as a community custom: “Pline recite de certaine nation hyperbo- rée . . . qu’estans las et sous de vivre ilz ont en coutume . . . se precipiter en la mer” [Pliny tells of a certain Hyperborean nation in which . . . when they are weary and satiated with living it is their custom . . . to throw themselves into the sea] (II: 3, 361–62a, DM 34–35; 262). The chapter could have been more appropriately entitled “Coustume hyperborée” [A Hyperborean Custom]. II. Book Two 127 Paxea, femme de Labeo, pour encourager leurs maris à eviter les dangiers qui les pressoyent, ausquels elles n’avoyent part que par l’interest de l’affection conjugale, engagerent volontairement la vie pour leur servir, en cette extreme necessité, d’exemple et de compaignie” [Sextilia, wife of Scaurus, and Paxea, wife of Labeo, to encourage their husbands to avoid the dangers that pressed them, in which they themselves had no share except by virtue of conjugal affection, voluntarily sacrificed their own lives so as to serve in this extremity as example and company to their husbands] (II: 3, 358b; 258). The third, however, while duplicating the feat of killing herself in front of her husband to join him in his suicide, turns out to have been a bad wife: Il ne se peut rien adjouster à la delicatesse de la mort de la femme de Ful- vius, familier d’Auguste. Auguste, ayant descouvert qu’il avoit esventé un secret important qu’il luy avoit fié, un matin qu’il le vint voir, luy en fit une maigre mine. Il s’en retourna au logis, plain de desespoir; et dict tout piteusement à sa femme qu’estant tombé en ce malheur il estoit resolu de se tuer. Elle tout franchement: Tu ne feras que raison, veu qu’ayant assez sou- vent experimenté l’incontinance de ma langue, tu ne t’en es point donné de garde. Mais laisse, que je me tue la premiere. Et, sans autrement marchan- der, se donna d’une espée dans le corps. [Nothing can be added to the delicacy of the death of the wife of Fulvius, a close friend of Augustus. Augustus, having discovered that Fulvius had aired an important secret he had confided to him, treated him bleakly one morn- ing when he came to see him. Fulvius went back to his house full of despair, and said most piteously to his wife that because of this misfortune he was resolved to kill himself. She said very frankly: “You will only be doing the right thing, seeing that for all your experience of the incontinence of my tongue you did not guard against it. But here, let me kill myself first.” And without further ado she ran a sword through her body.] (II: 3, 358b; 259) She is bad enough as Montaigne tells it, having an incontinent tongue; but she is much worse in the story as Plutarch tells and which Montaigne quotes here almost word for word but leaves out what she is alluding to: it was she who had told Caesar’s secret, which she had heard from her husband, to Livia, who then berated Augustus. Fulvius, the friend of Caesar Augustus, heard the emperor, now an old man, lamenting the desolation of his house: two of his grandsons were dead, and Postumius, the only one surviving, was in exile because of some false accu- 128 II. Book Two sation, and thus he was forced to import his wife’s son into the imperial succession; yet he pitied his grandson and was planning to recall him from abroad. Fulvius divulged what he had heard to his own wife, and she to Livia; and Livia bitterly rebuked Caesar: if he had formed this design long ago, why did he not send for his grandson, instead of making her an object of enmity and strife to the successor to the empire. Accordingly, when Ful- vius came to him in the morning, as was his custom, and said, “Hail, Cae- sar,” Caesar replied, “Farewell, Fulvius.” And Fulvius took his meaning and went away; going home at once, he sent for his wife, “Caesar has found out,” he said, “that I have not kept his secret, and therefore I intend to kill myself.” “It is right that you should,” said his wife, “since, after living with me for so long a time, you have not learned to guard against my inconti- nent tongue. But let me die first.” And, taking the sword, she dispatched herself before her husband.5 Thus the last of this 1588 insertion’s three wives is both the same as (as a wife encouraging her husband to suicide) and yet the exact opposite of (not a good wife but a bad one, and not a comfort to her husband in his misfortune but the cause of it) the three good wives in the companion chapter. No wonder Montaigne comments that all he had to do was to choose his stories and then arrange them according to what the beauty of the larger work they form requires, for that is clearly what he is doing here, in the interplay between chapters II: 3 and II: 35. He wonders why other writers do not assemble stories from books, from which they could “bastir un corps entier & s’entretenant” [construct and entire body that held together] for which the only thing of their own they need supply would be “la liaison” [the connection]. They could arrange and diversify the stories (“les disposant & diversifiant”) as the beauty of the larger work would require, as Ovid sewed and pieced together his Metamorphoses (II: 35, 749a, DM 587–88; 567–68*). It now appears even less likely that Montaigne’s characterization of his book as a “fagotage de tant de diverses pieces” [bundle of so many diverse pieces] (II: 37, 758a, DM 599; 574) meant that it has no structure, for here he both likens it to the Metamorphoses and asserts that Ovid arranged and diversified his stories in such a way as to enhance the beauty of the whole. That beauty in the case of the Essays comes from his ability to “proportion- ner & rapporter l’une à l’autre” “toutes ces pieces . . . pour en engendrer une parfaicte symmetrie” [proportion and relate one to the other all those pieces to engender a perfect symmetry] (II: 37, 773a, DM 626–27; 587*). 5. Plutarch, “On talkativeness” (De garrulitate). In Moralia (Cambridge: Harvard University Press / Loeb Library, 1939) vol. 6, 429–31. II. Book Two 129 Another such symmetry is engendered when this statement near the beginning of II: 3— C’est ce que qu’on dit, que le sage vit tant qu’il doit, non pas tant qu’il peut. [That is what they say, that the wise man lives as long as he should, not as long as he can] (II: 3, 350a, DM 20; 252*) —is echoed by this one near the end of II: 35: la loy de vivre aus gens de bien ce n’est pas autant qu’il leur plait, mais autant qu’ils doivent. [the law of living, for good men, is not as long as they please but as long as they ought] (II: 35, 750a, DM 589; 568) They are not only parallel but also symmetrically opposed, for the first state- ment approves of suicide while the second counsels against it. The first appears in the midst of instances of voluntary suicides, seconding their reso- lution, as the words that follow it make clear: “& que le present que nature nous ait faict le plus favorable & qui nous oste tout moien de nous plaindre de nostre condition c’est de nous avoir laissé la clef des champs” [and that the most beneficent present Nature has given us, a present which takes from us any reason for complaining about our condition, is the gift of a way out] (II: 3, 350a, DM 20–21; 252*). The second appears in a letter of Seneca’s in which he speaks of his realization that he has to live for his beloved wife and not just for himself. The sentences immediately following the one just quoted continue in that sense: Celuy qui n’estime pas tant sa femme ou un sien amy que d’en allonger sa vie & qui s’opiniastre à mourir, il est trop delicat & trop mol: . . . il faut par fois nous prester à nos amis: & quand nous vouldrions mourir pour nous interrompre nostre dessein pour autruy. [The man who does not value his wife or a friend of his so much as to pro- long his life for them, and who stubbornly insists on dying, is too delicate and soft; . . . we must sometimes lend ourselves to our friends, even when for our sake we would like to die, break off our plan for the sake of others.] (II: 35, 750a, DM 589; 568*) 130 II. Book Two Montaigne here simply translates Seneca’s words, at considerable length.6 Hence the whole passage is essentially another one of those “histoires, qui se rencontrent dans les livres” [stories that are found in books] that he had just said he likes to choose and arrange for the sake of the beauty of his book as a whole. Part of that beauty is the way one particular sentence of it echoes yet opposes a sentence in the companion chapter. Here we can get a glimpse of how Montaigne went about writing these two chapters: he must have started with the sentence from Seneca, and then fashioned the other sentence to match it. 4. Caesar the Procrastinator “À demain les affaires” [Let business wait till tomorrow] (II: 4) and “Observations sur les moyens de faire la guerre de Julius Caesar” [Observations on Julius Caesar’s methods of making war] (II: 34) Montaigne begins both chapters by heaping praise on a book, praise that culminates in his calling that book a breviary, and among the qualities he praises is the purity of its language, which in his estimation surpasses that of its competitors. In “À demain les affaires” it is Amyot’s translation of Plu- tarch, among other qualities “pour la naifveté & pureté du langage, en quoy il surpasse tous autres” [for the naturalness and purity of his language, in which he surpasses all others]. Thanks to it we know how to speak and write, “c’est nostre breviaire” [it is our breviary] (II: 4, 363–64a; DM 35–36; 262). In the other chapter, the book called out for praise is Julius Caesar’s Commentaries on the Gallic and Civil Wars. “Car à la verité ce devroit estre le breviaire de tout homme de guerre” [it should be the breviary of every warrior], character- ized by “une façon de dire si pure  .  .  .  que à mon goust il n’y a nuls escrits au monde, qui puissent étre comparables aus siens en céte partie” [that to my taste there are no writings in the world comparable to his in this respect] (II: 34, 736a; DM 558–59; 556*). These two assertions, though they refer to each other in the way that the Essays’ other symmetrically placed echoes do, are mutu- ally contradictory, for it cannot both be true that Amyot’s linguistic purity is unsurpassed and Caesar’s incomparable. The chapters are symmetrically opposed in that II: 4 focuses on delay in receiving messages while II: 34 features delay in sending them. In II: 4, 6. As the editors of the new Pléiade edition of the Essais point out (Balsamo et al., 1694n). II. Book Two 131 Montaigne cites Plutarch (in Amyot’s translation) recounting how a cer- tain Rusticus, in the audience at a lecture Plutarch himself was giving, was handed a letter from the Emperor but put off opening it until the lecture was over. Very courteous to Plutarch, Montaigne comments, but imprudent with regard to the Emperor. Montaigne cites several other addressees who delayed to a dangerous or fatal extent opening their messages. A fatal instance was Julius Caesar himself, according to (Amyot’s) Plutarch: “ce mesme Plutarque m’a appris que Julius Caesar se fut sauvé, si, allant au senat, le jour qu’il y fut tué par les conjurez, il eut leu un memoire qu’on luy presenta contenant le faict de l’entreprise” [this same Plutarch has taught me that Julius Caesar would have saved his life if, in going to the Senate on the day when he was killed there by the conspirators, he had read a memorandum that was handed to him] (II: 4, 364a, DM 38; 263). In II: 34, Julius Caesar delays sending three different kinds of messages: (1) His orders to his soldiers: “Il accoustumoit sur tout ses soldats à obeir simplement sans se mesler de contreroller ou parler des desseins de leur capitaine, lesquels il ne leur communiquoit que sur le point de l’exe- cution” [He accustomed his soldiers above all simply to obey, without meddling with criticizing or talking about their captain’s plans, which he communicated to them only when he was about to put them into execution] (II: 34, 736a, DM 556; 556). (2) His pep talks to his soldiers before they engaged the enemy: “il fait grand cas de ses exhortations aux soldatz avant le combat. Car là où il veut monstrer avoir esté surpris ou pressé, il allegue tousjours cela qu’il n’eust pas seulement loysir de haranguer son armée” [he sets great store by his exhortations to the soldiers before combat. For where he wants to show that he was surprised or hard pressed, he always men- tions the fact that he had not even the leisure to harangue his army] (II: 34, 738a, DM 563; 557–58*). This kept happening, apparently, as Montaigne tells it (“il allegue tousjours” [he always mentions]). He tells of one instance in particular, when “il n’eust loisir de leur dire, sinon qu’ilz eussent souvenance de leur vertu acoustumée, qu’ils ne s’estonnassent point, & soustinsent hardiment l’effort des adversaires” [he had only time to tell them to remember their accustomed valor, not to be taken aback, and to sustain boldly the adversaries’ attack] (II: 34, 738a, DM 563; 558*). But if he had had the time, he evidently would have said more than these platitudes, for his “eloquence militaire” was so highly regarded that “plusieurs en son armée recueilloint ses haren- gues. Et par ce moyen il en fut assemblé des volumes, qui ont duré 132 II. Book Two long temps apres luy” [several in his army took down his harangues; and that means there were volumes of them collected that lasted a long time after him] (II: 34, 738a, DM 564; 558). And what he said in his speeches to the troops when he had enough time to say it was evi- dently more interesting and specific than the commonplaces that were all he had time to say on that particular occasion to which Montaigne alludes: “Son parler avoit des graces particulieres, si que ses familiers & entre autres Auguste oyant reciter ce qui en avoit esté recueilli, recon- noissoit jusques aus phrases & aus mots ce qui n’estoit pas du sien” [His speech had particular graces, so that his intimates, and among them Augustus, hearing anyone recite what had been collected of them, could recognize what was not his, even to phrases and words] (II: 34, 738a, DM 564; 558). (3) And his reply to a request for safe passage: when the Swiss asked him permission to travel through Roman territory but he decided to pre- vent them by force, he “print quelques jours de delay à leur faire res- ponce pour se servir de ce loisir à assembler son armée” [took a few days’ delay in answering them, so as to use this leisure in assembling his army] (II: 34, 737a, DM 560; 557). This instance differs from the other two in that he profited from his delay; nevertheless, it is yet another case of his delay in sending a message, the symmetrical response to his delay in receiving a message on the Ides of March, recounted in II: 4. Montaigne shows that he thinks that (2) and (3) are related by calling Caesar’s delay in both cases—and twice in (2)—“loisir.” 5. suffering innocence “De la conscience” [Of conscience] (II: 5) and “L’histoire de Spurina” [The story of Spurina] (II: 33) In “De la conscience” Montaigne argues that our innermost thoughts, espe- cially our guilty ones, will show through on our face, despite our best efforts to conceal them. He tells of traveling during the religious civil wars and meet- ing a man who wore the outward marks of a Catholic, but whom he deduced must be a Protestant. He could see from the fear the man showed every time they passed through a town loyal to the king “que c’estoient alarmes que sa conscience luy donnoit” [that his alarms were caused by his conscience] (II: 5, 366a, DM 40; 262). “L’histoire de Spurina” is likewise about “alarmes,” a word that appears in the plural nowhere else in Book Two save in this chapter II. Book Two 133 and “De la conscience,” and about how hard it is to prevent one’s body from responding to an inner impulse: “Plusieurs ayans voulu delivrer leurs ames des alarmes continuelles que leur donnoit cet appetit, se sont servis d’inci- sion & détranchement des parties esmeues & alterées” [Many, having wished to deliver their soul from the continual alarms that this appetite gave them, have resorted to the incision and amputation of the parts that were stirred and altered] (II: 33, 728a, DM 546; 550). The appetite in question is the sexual one, and Montaigne goes on in this passage to write of those who have fought it with, heat, cold, hair shirts and “des ceintures à geiner leurs reins” [girdles to torture their loins] (II: 33, 728a, DM 40; 550). Torture, applied to the loins to kill desire in II: 33, is also central to the discussion of conscience in II: 5: “c’est une dangereuse invention que celle des gehenes & semble que ce soit plustost un essay de patience que de verité” [tortures are a dangerous invention, and seem to be a test of endurance rather than of truth] (II: 5, 368a, DM 43; 266). For pain is as likely to make the sufferer lie as tell the truth. There is, however, an effect on the conscience: torture makes the guilty weaken and confess, but fortifies the innocent. A 1588 and a post-1588 addition continue the discussion: “[B] Que ne diroit on, que ne feroit on pour fuyr à si griefves douleurs? . . . [C] D’où il advient que celuy que le juge a geiné, pour ne le faire mourir innocent, il le face mourir et innocent et geiné” [What would a man not say, what would a man not do, to escape such grievous pains? . . . Whence it happens that the man whom the judge has tortured so as not to make him die innocent, is made to die both innocent and tortured ] (II: 5, 369bc; 266). Pain and mutilation inflicted on innocence are what the story to which the title of II: 33 alludes is all about, though with the difference that they are self-inflicted. Spurina was a Tuscan youth so beautiful that he made virtu- ous women lust after him. Not content to refrain from abetting their desire, he “entra en furieux despit contre soy mesmes & contre ces riches presens, que nature luy avoit faits, comme si on se devoit prendre à eux de la faute d’autruy” [entered into furious spite against himself and against these rich presents that nature had made to him, as if these should be blamed for the fault of others] (II: 33, 734a, DM 558; 555) and cut his face, leaving such scars that he destroyed his beauty. His face, though innocent, was, like the innocent victim of torture, made to suffer for misdeeds for which others were responsible. This intentionally self-inflicted destruction in II: 33 is the symmetrical opposite of a case of unintentionally self-inflicted destruction recounted in II: 5: the wasp who “picque & offence autruy, mais plus soi mesme, car elle y perd son eguillon & sa force pour jamais. Vitásque in vulnere ponunt” [stings 134 II. Book Two and hurts others, but itself most, for there it loses its sting and its strength forever, “In the wound they make they leave their lives”] (II: 5, 367a; DM 41; 264). Montaigne immediately follows this up with another insect analogy: “Les Cantarides ont en elles quelque partie qui sert contre leur poison de contre- poison, par une contrarieté de nature. Aussi à mesme qu’on prend le plai- sir au vice, il s’engendre un desplaisir contraire en la conscience qui nous tourmente” [The Spanish fly has in itself something that serves as a coun- ter poison to its own poison, by a contrariety of nature. So, even while we take pleasure in vice, there is engendered in our conscience a contrary dis- pleasure which torments us] (II: 5, 367a, DM 41; 265). Balsamo et al. note Montaigne’s source as Amyot’s translation of Plutarch’s “On the delays of divine justice” (1518), which is accurate (he nearly quotes it word for word), but their footnote gloss on the word “partie” as “qualité” (385n) is in error, revealing an ignorance of a passage from another essay of Plutarch’s, also translated by Amyot, where he explains where the counter poison comes from: “les medecins disent que la mousche Cantharide est bien un mortel poison, et toutefois que les ailes et les pieds ont force d’aider au contraire, et de dissoudre sa mortelle puissance” [doctors say that the Spanish fly is indeed a fatal poison, and yet that its wings and feet have the power to counteract it, and to dissolve its fatal power].7 So it is not a quality in the poison itself but another substance, made from other parts of the fly’s body. Unlike the wasp, the Spanish fly does not poison itself, so it forms no parallel with the self-harming Spurina. However, it will join with the wasp to find a counterpart poison in a post-1588 addition to “L’histoire de Spurina,” the one that the father of a girl forced to become the mistress of Ladislas of Naples put on a handkerchief that she brought to the encounter: Elle estoit fille d’un medecin fameux de son temps, lequel, se trouvant engagé en si villaine necessité, se resolut à une haute entreprinse. Comme chacun paroit sa fille et l’attournoit d’ornements et joyaux qui la peussent rendre aggreable à ce nouvel amant, luy aussi luy donna un mouchoir exquis en senteur et en ouvrage, duquel elle eust à se servir en leurs pre- mieres approches, meuble qu’elles n’y oublient guere en ces quartiers là. Ce mouchoir, empoisonné selon la capacité de son art, venant à se frotter à ces chairs esmeues et pores ouverts, inspira son venin si promptement, qu’ayant soudain changé leur sueur chaude en froide, ils expirerent entre les bras l’un de l’autre. 7. “Comment il faut que les jeunes gens lisent les poètes” [How young men should read the poets], available on the web at http://www.chass.utoronto.ca/~wulfric/rentexte/amyot/am_txt.htm. II. Book Two 135 [She was the daughter of a doctor famous in his time, who, finding him- self entangled in so foul a necessity, resolved on a lofty attempt. As all were arraying his daughter and bedecking her with ornaments and jewels to make her pleasing to this novel lover, he too gave her a handkerchief, exquisite in fragrance and workmanship, which she was to use in their first embraces—an article they rarely forget in those parts. This handkerchief, poisoned according to the full capacity of his craft, coming to rub against the aroused flesh and open pores of both, infused its venom so promptly that, their warm sweat suddenly changing to cold, they expired in each oth- er’s arms.] (II: 33, 730c; 552) M. A. Screech points out that this anecdote comes from Laonicus Chalcon- dylas’ De la décadence de l’Empire Grec.8 Montaigne made some telling depar- tures from that source. In Chalcondylas’ version, the father resolved to carry out a very strange thing that required no small courage. For with hemlock juice and other fatal drugs he soaked a kerchief [un cou- vrechef ] richly worked with golden thread and crimson silk, which he gave to his daughter for her to put on when the King was with her, which she did. Now he no sooner cast his eye on this beauty, of which the renown, he said, had been too miserly in its praise, than all boiling and enflamed with love, without standing on ceremony, he immediately threw himself upon her. But he was no sooner touched by the kerchief, as heated as he was, than suddenly the poison went up to his heart, with such speed and force, that after having shed a few drops of a cold sweat, as if it were nature’s last effort, he gave up the ghost in the arms of the girl, who also expired soon afterward.9 Montaigne’s alterations allow the poison to recall more strongly II: 5’s can- tharides, known since antiquity for their alleged aphrodisiac powers. For in the original, it was not a handkerchief but a kerchief; it was not perfumed; the father had not instructed his daughter to use it in their first embraces; and it was not applied to the aroused flesh of both in the act of making love (though the daughter did succumb from contact with it; after all, it was on her head). Note as well that Montaigne’s remark that a perfumed handker- chief was a “meuble qu’elles n’y oublient guere en ces quartiers là” [an article they rarely forget in those parts] has no basis in the source. It is not an apt 8. In his translation of the Essais, 827n. 9. Laonicus Chalcocondylas, L’Histoire de la Décadence de l’Empire Grec, et Establissement de celuy des Turcs, tr. Blaise de Vigenère, 1620 (orig. 1577). Available online at Google Books. My translation. 136 II. Book Two remark to make about a couvre-chef, which was not an item Italian (or Flo- rentine) women wore with more frequency than French women in 1414 (the date of Ladislaus’ death). To use a scented handkerchief in lovemaking is something one could reasonably assert that women in certain parts do more often than women elsewhere. Yet “ces quartiers là” may more likely connote not a geographical region but the bedroom. Montaigne’s two insect examples in the other chapter, the wasp and the Spanish fly, together anticipate what will happen here, for like the latter, the daughter’s seductive handkerchief was meant (in Montaigne’s version of the story) to arouse her victim; but like the wasp, she would not survive the encounter. 6. Parallel deaths “De l’exercitation” [Of practice] (II: 6) and “Defence de Seneque et de Plutarque” [In defense of Seneca and Plutarch] (II: 32) One can “s’exercer” [practice] for misfortune by voluntary poverty and other self-induced austerities, Montaigne writes, but practicing in advance is of no help as far as death is concerned. Yet we can try it out (“l’essayer”) through sleep, which resembles death. But the closest we can come is through some violent accident that makes us lose conciousness. Those that have experi- enced such an event “ont esté bien pres de voir son vray & naturel visage” [have been very close to seeing death’s true and natural face] (II: 6, 372a, DM 47; 268). Being knocked off his horse by another horseman and los- ing consciousness gave Montaigne such an opportunity, and he devotes “De l’exercitation” to recounting the event and its aftermath. [M]’estant alé un jour promener à une lieüe de chez moi, qui suis assis dans le moiau de tout le trouble des guerres civiles de France . . . j’avoy pris un cheval bien aisé mais non guiere ferme: à mon retour une occasion soudaine s’estant presentée de m’aider de ce cheval à un service qui n’estoit pas bien de son usage, un de mes gens grand & fort, monté sur un puissant rous- sin, qui avoit une bouche desesperée, frais au demeurant & vigoureus, pour faire le hardy & devancer ses compaignons, vint à le pousser à toute bride droit dans ma route, & fondre comme un colosse sur le petit homme & petit cheval, & le foudroier de sa roideur & de la pesanteur, nous envoyant l’un & l’autre les piedz contre-mont: si que voila le cheval abatu & couché tout étourdi, moy dis ou douze pas au dela mort estendu à la renverse, le II. Book Two 137 visage tout meurtry & tout escorché . . . n’ayant ny mouvement ny senti- ment non plus qu’une souche. [Having gone riding one day about a league from my house, which is situ- ated at the very hub of all the turmoil of the civil wars of France . . . I had taken a very easy but not very strong horse. On my return, when a sudden occasion came up for me to use this horse for a service to which it was not accustomed, one of my men, big and strong, riding a powerful work horse who had a desperately hard mouth and was moreover fresh and vigorous— this man, in order to show his daring and get ahead of his companions, spurred his horse at full speed up the path behind me, came down like a colossus on the little man and little horse, and hit us like a thunderbolt with all his strength and weight, sending us both head over heels. So that there lay the horse bowled over and stunned, and I ten or twelve paces beyond, dead, stretched on my back, my face all bruised and skinned . . . having no more motion or sensation than a log.] (II: 6, 373a, DM 49–50; 268–69*) His companions, unable to revive him, thought he was dead. They picked him up and carried him home. After two hours, he began to regain con- sciousness, but “mes premiers sentimens estoint beaucoup plus aprochans de la mort que de la vie. Céte recordation que j’en ay fort empreinte en mon ame me representant son visage & son idée si prez du naturel, me concilie aucunement à elle” [my first feelings were much closer to death than to life. This recollection, which is strongly implanted on my soul, showing me the face and idea of death so true to nature, reconciles me to it somewhat] (II: 6, 373–74a, DM 51; 269). This encounter with death, singular as it was, finds a curious counterpart in “Defence de Seneque et de Plutarque” (II: 32). It emerges from a true story Montaigne tells to defend Plutarch from Jean Bodin’s accusation that the instances he cited of stoic resistance to pain, such as the Spartan boy who continued to hide a stolen fox under his cloak even though he was biting him, were not to be believed. “Et qui s’enquerre à nos Argolets, des experiences qu’ils ont eues en ces guerres civiles, il se trouvera des effets de patience, d’obstination & d’opiniatreté parmi nos miserables siecles . . . dignes d’estre comparez à ceus que nous venons de reciter de la vertu Spartaine” [If any- one would ask our soldiers about the experiences they have had in these civil wars, there will be found acts of endurance, obstinacy, and stubbornness in this miserable age of ours . . . worthy to be compared to those we have just related of Spartan virtue] (II: 32, 724a, DM 539; 547*). Montaigne knows 138 II. Book Two of peasants who have undergone excruciating tortures at the hands of their captors. He says he saw one left for dead naked in a ditch, ayant le col tout meurtry & enflé d’un licol qui y pendoit encore, avec lequel on l’avoit tirassé toute la nuict à la queüe d’un cheval, le corps percé en cent lieux à coups de dague qu’on luy avoit donné, non pas pour le tuer, mais pour luy faire de la doleur & de la crainte: qui avoit souffert tout cela & jusques à y avoir perdu parolle & sentiment, resolu, à ce qu’il me dit, de mourir plus tost de mille morts que de rien promettre, & si estoit un des plus riches laboureurs de toute la contrée. [his neck all bruised and swollen from a halter that was still hanging from it, by which he had been pulled all night behind a horse, his body pierced in a hundred places with stabs from daggers, which had been dealt him not to kill him but to hurt and frighten him; who had endured all that, even to the point of having lost speech and sensation, resolved so he told me, to die a thousand deaths rather than promise anything; and yet he was one of the richest farmers in the whole district.] (II: 32, 724a, DM 540; 548*) The farmer was found in an unconscious state, “jusques à y avoir perdu parolle & sentiment” [to the point of having lost speech and sensation]; so too was Montaigne, being one of “ceus qui sont tombez par quelque violent accident . . . & qui y ont perdu tous sentimens” [those who by some violent accident . . . have lost all sensation] (II: 6, 372a, DM 47; 268), and in his own particular case “n’ayant ny mouvement ny sentiment non plus qu’une souche” [having no more motion or sensation than a log]. Consequently the farmer was “laissé pour mort” [left for dead]; so too was Montaigne: “Ceus qui estoint avec moy . . . me tenans pour mort” [Those who were with me . . . taking me for dead] (II: 6, 373a, DM 50; 269). He repeats the expression a few pages later, when he remembers seeing the other horse “à mes talons & me tins pour mort” [at my heels and took myself for dead] (II: 6, 377a, DM 55; 272*). That Montaigne is setting up, little by little and detail by detail, a double for himself in the man left for dead in this matching chapter becomes all the more apparent when we realize that the phrase “pour mort” appears nowhere else in the Essays. The farmer was “tirassé”; so too was Montaigne. For the former, it was intentional torture by his enemies; for the latter, pain unintentionally inflicted by his friends. The farmer was “tirassé toute la nuict” [pulled all night] by a halter his tormentors had tied around his neck and attached to a horse’s tail. As for Montaigne, “j’avois esté vilainement tirassé par ces pouvres II. Book Two 139 gens qui avoint pris la peine de me porter entre leurs bras par un long & tresmauvais chemain & s’y estoint lassés deux ou trois fois les uns apres les autres” [I had been villainously pulled about by those poor fellows, who had taken the pains to carry me in their arms over a long and very bad road, and had tired themselves out two or three times in relays] (II: 6, 376–77a, DM 56; 272*). The situation is hardly the same, but that’s not the point: the word is the same, giving rise to some irony. No one else is “tirassé” in Book Two. The same precision is evident in words describing their respective inju- ries. The farmer’s neck was “tout meurtry” [all bruised ] (II: 32, 724a, DM 540; 548) from the halter, while Montaigne’s face was “tout meurtry” [all bruised] (II: 6, 373a, DM 50; 269). Only in this pair of chapters does that expression appear. Perhaps the most important connection between Montaigne’s story of his own brush with death and the farmer left for dead in the ditch is that the very thing that makes his own story so worth telling, that the event allowed him to experience death without actually dying, is actually part of the other man’s experience too. For the suffering the latter endured, as Montaigne makes clear in a 1588 addition, gave him the opportunity to die without dying: he was “resolu, à ce qu’il me dict, de mourir plustost de mille morts (comme de vray, quand à sa souffrance, il en avoit passé une toute entiere) avant que rien promettre” [resolved, so he told me, to die a thousand deaths (as in truth, so far as suffering goes, he had died one whole death) rather than promise anything] (II: 32, 724ab; 548).10 But there are still more pieces to the puzzle. Like Montaigne, the man was injured by a horse—the one he was tied to and by which he was “tirassé” all night. But the way he was tied, the “licol” [halter] around his neck,11 almost turned him into a horse—though not so much in the context of his own story as in the larger one of how Montaigne sets up this encounter of echoing stories. It is in that larger metafiction that the halter can acquire some significance. Another detail about him meaningful in the metafiction in which these two stories converge is that he was a “laboureur,” defined by Lit- tré as “Celui qui laboure, soit l’ouvrier qui trace le sillon, soit le propriétaire ou le fermier qui cultive une terre” [He who plows, whether it be the worker who traces the furrow or the landowner or the farmer who cultivates a field]. 10. The part in parentheses was added in 1588, as noted in DM 540, although neither of the Pléiade editions nor the Villey indicate it. 11. Screech and Frame both translate “licol” as “halter”; Cotgrave defines it as “A rope, halter; horse-collar.” Randle Cotgrave, A Dictionarie of the French and English Tongues (London: 1611). Avail- able on the web at http://www.pbm.com/~lindahl/cotgrave/ 140 II. Book Two By strange coincidence, a “roussin,” the kind of big horse that collided with Montaigne’s smaller horse is a “cheval de labour,” according to Balsamo et al. (391n), a plow horse.12 So the “laboureur” is both a horse (by virtue of the horse’s halter he is made to wear) and one who plows, making him a distant double of the plow horse that unhorsed Montaigne. If the Essays were a poem such a recombination of elements would be in no way surprising. But in fact they are a poem. And in that poem, Montaigne’s run-in with the roussin is an allegory of the collision in the larger text between these stories. In the col- lision, the story in II: 6 may not escape unscathed. We can no longer think it unique, for example: both events take place during the “guerres civiles” [civil wars]; each man had “perdu  .  .  .  sentiment” [lost consciousness], was taken “pour mort” [for dead], was “tirassé” [pulled about] and “tout meurtry” [all bruised], each suffered from an encounter with a horse and experienced death without actually dying. But is Montaigne even telling the truth about what happened to him? How could so many details be true of both stories? Was one a true story and the other a fiction concocted to match so many details of the first? If that is the case, Montaigne seems to want us to consider whether the story in II: 32 might not be the true one, for he appears to confirm the real- ity of the event by providing another source for it in “De l’experience”: “Des paysans viennent de m’advertir en haste qu’ils ont laissé presentement en une forest qui est à moy un homme meurtry de cent coups, qui respire encores, et qui leur a demandé de l’eau par pitié et du secours pour le soubslever” [Some peasants have just informed me hastily that a moment ago they left in a wood that belongs to me a man stabbed in a hundred places, who is still breathing, and who begged them for pity’s sake to bring him some water and help him to get up] (III: 13, 1070b; 819). The plowman in II: 32 had been stabbed a hundred times too: “le corps percé en cent lieux à coups de dague” [his body pierced in a hundred places with stabs from daggers]. There are sixty-four other appearances of “cent” in the Essays but these are the only two where it is combined with “coups” [blows].13 Moreover, while the expression “tout meurtry” appears only twice, applied to Montaigne in II: 6 and to the plowman in II: 32, the word “meurtry” makes only one other appearance in the Essays at all, and this is it. As we have already seen in reading chapter pairs before now, Montaigne knows where he is putting certain words and he plants them where he does for a reason. In this instance, “meurtry” links the three passages. The only persons to whom it applies in the Essays are Mon- 12. Villey defines it similarly: “Fort cheval employé au labour ou aux charrois” [a strong horse employed in plowing or pulling carts] (373n5). 13. Both Frame and Screech (1214) translate these “coups” as stab-wounds. II. Book Two 141 taigne in II: 6, the plowman in II: 32, and the wounded man in III: 13—and the hundred blows connect the latter two. Could then these two crime victims be the same? The peasants, Mon- taigne goes on to say, left the man where he lay because they were fearful of being accused of having attacked him themselves. Surely Montaigne would not have left him there too, but would have gone out and rescued the man, finding him in the ditch, left for dead yet still alive and able to tell his story. So that if we put the two stories together, as the unique repetition of “cent coups” and “meurtry” encourage us to do, this is where we pick up the story in II: 32. But if he wants us to believe that it could be the same man, he nev- ertheless wants us to believe it could not be the same man, for also he tells us in III: 13—a chapter first published in 1588—that the event had only just happened (“Des paysans viennent de m’advertir” [Some peasants have just informed me])—whereas the story in II: 32 was published eight years before. The metafictional plot thickens. 7. rewards and Punishments “Des recompenses d’honneur” [Of honorary awards] (II: 7) and “De la colere” [Of anger] (II: 31) Montaigne begins “De la colere” by saying that it is not good to let a father bring up his own children. “Qui ne voit qu’en un estat tout dépend de l’education & nourriture des enfans? & ce pendant sans nulle discretion on les laisse à la merci de leurs parens tant fols & meschans qu’ils soient” [Who does not see that in a state everything depends on the education and nur- ture of the children? And yet, without any discernment, they are left to the mercy of their parents, however foolish and wicked these may be] (II: 31, 714a, DM 525; 539–40*). But in “Des recompenses d’honneur” he seems to express the opposite opinion, maintaining that for a father to be involved in his children’s upbringing is appropriate, even if it is commonplace and thus not worth singling out for praise: “On ne remarque pas pour la recom- mandation d’un homme, qu’il ait soin de la nourriture de ses enfans, d’autant que c’est une action commune, quelque juste qu’elle soit” [We do not note in commendation of a man that he takes trouble over the nurture of his children, since this is a common action, however just] (II: 7, 382a, DM 61; 276*). The contradiction is made particularly apparent by the parallel expressions “nourriture de ses enfans” (in II: 7) and “nourriture des enfans” (in II: 31). In a post-1588 alteration to II: 31 that echo will disappear but the 142 II. Book Two meaning remain as “tout dépend de l’education & nourriture des enfans” becomes “tout dépend de son education et nourriture” [everything depends on its education and nurture], the possessive adjective “son” [its] finding its antecedent in “enfance” [childhood] in a sentence inserted after 1588 just before this point. In it Montaigne reports that Sparta and Crete were the only states which “ont commis aux loix la discipline de l’enfance” [com- mitted the education of children to the laws] (II: 31, 714c; 539). As I will show, however, in 1588 Montaigne added such significant new connections between these two chapters that he may have decided at the moment he made the later change that he no longer needed the verbal echo. II: 7 is about how best to reward; II: 31, how best to punish. Specifically, the one doing the punishing should not be angry. Montaigne is revolted by the sight of an irate father or mother beating their child. “Il n’est passion qui esbranle tant la sincerité des jugemens, que la colere. Nul ne feroit doubte de punir de mort le juge, qui par colere auroit comnamné son criminel” [There is no passion that so shakes the clarity of our judgment as anger. No one would hesitate to punish with death a judge who had condemned his criminal through anger] (II: 31, 715a, DM 526; 540). Consequently, neither parents nor schoolmasters should chastise children in anger, nor masters their servants. In the other chapter Montaigne focuses on honorary rewards, as opposed to monetary ones, and on one in particular, the Order of Saint Michel, debased in recent years because too many have received it. Not only can rewards become too common to convey the meaning they should, but certain kinds of virtuous behavior can be so common as not to deserve a reward. It is this point in the discussion that he brings in the example of fathers’ taking pains for the education of their children being so common a good trait as not to be worth commendation. In 1588 Montaigne added a new dimension to his chapter on anger that enabled it to echo more strongly the central point of the other chapter, that honorary awards can lose their efficacy if they are given indiscriminately and too often, for precisely the same is true, he will argue in these new pages, of anger. “J’advertis ceux qui ont loy de se pouvoir courroucer en ma famille : premierement, qu’ils mesnagent leur cholere et ne l’espandent pas à tout pris, car cela en empesche l’effect et le poix : la criaillerie temeraire et ordinaire passe en usage et faict que chacun la mesprise” [I admonish those in my fam- ily who have the right to get angry, first to be thrifty with their anger and not spread it about at random, for that impedes its effect and its weight. Heedless and continual scolding becomes a habit and makes everyone discount it] (II: 31, 719b; 543–44*). The three terms I have italicized had been part of the II. Book Two 143 discussion when he was making the same point in the other chapter about honorary awards: “Auguste avoit raison d’estre beaucoup plus mesnagier & espargnant” [Augustus was right to be much more thrifty and sparing] (II: 7, 382a, DM 61; 276) of an honorary award than monetary ones. It is unfor- tunate that the powers that be decided to award the Order of Saint Michel in so spendthrift a manner, to “espandre indignement & avilir cet honneur [post-1588: cete marque]” [unworthily spread and debase this honor (post- 1588: this distinction)] (II: 7, 383a, DM 63; 277*). If the new honorary award (the Order of the Holy Spirit) intended to regain the prestige the Saint Michel lost is to succeed, people will have to lose their memory of the first and the “mespris auquel il est cheu” [contempt into which it has fallen] (II: 7, 383a, DM 64; 277). By contrast with honorary rewards, monetary ones are not as dignified because “on les employe à toute autre sorte d’occasions” [they are used for all other sorts of occasions] (II: 7, 382a, DM 60; 276)—to reward valets, couri- ers, dancers, acrobats. Those words reappear in the 1588 addition too: when Montaigne gets angry with his servants, he does not have recourse to vio- lence, but “je n’y employe communement que la langue. Mes valets en ont meilleur marché aux grandes occasions qu’aux petites” [I ordinarily use noth- ing but my tongue. My servants get off better on big occasions than small] (II: 31, 720b; 544*) because the small ones take him by surprise, and his anger flares, whereas on the big occasions he is prepared in advance not to give in to rage. This is a good example of how Montaigne polished his chapter pairs in subsequent editions to make them even more mutually reflective. 8. Hidden monsters “De l’affection des peres aux enfans” [Of fathers’ affection for their children] (II: 8) and “D’un enfant monstrueux” [Of a monstrous child] (II: 30) These two chapters advertise some sort of connection by their titles, the beloved “enfants” of one anticipating the monstrous “enfant” of the other. That every monstrosity has its hidden twin is the astonishingly self-referential revelation Montaigne will make in a post-1588 addition to II: 30’s conclu- sion: “cette figure qui nous estonne, se rapporte et tient à quelque autre figure de mesme genre inconnu à l’homme  .  .  .  mais nous n’en voyons pas l’assortiment et la relation” [this figure that astonishes us is related and linked 144 II. Book Two to some other figure of the same kind unknown to man . . . but we do not see their arrangement and relation] (II: 30, 713c; 539*). On the immediate level—the fictive one in which he pretends in any given chapter to be talking about some particular subject—he is speaking of God and His creation; but on the metafictional level, he is talking about his own creation, the Essays’ “assortiment” [arrangement] and “relation.” The monstrous child was profitable because of its strangeness: “Je vis avant hier un enfant que deux hommes & une nourrisse  .  .  .  conduisoient, pour tirer quelque liard pour le monstrer à cause de son estrangeté ” [The day before yesterday I saw a child that two men and a nurse . . . were lead- ing about to get a penny or so from showing him, because of his strangeness] (II: 30, 712a, DM 523; 538). So too, Montaigne hopes, are the Essays: “si l’estrangeté ne me sauve & la nouveleté, qui ont accoustumé de donner pris aus choses, je ne sors jamais à mon honneur de céte sote entreprinse: mais elle est si fantastique, & a un visage si esloigné de l’usage commun que cela luy pourra donner passage” [if strangeness and novelty, which customarily give value to things, do not save me, I shall never get out of this stupid enterprise with honor; but it is so fantastic and has a face so remote from common usage that that may enable it to pass] (II: 8, 385a, DM 66; 278*). The “stu- pid enterprise” is the Essays, which will turn out to have a lot more in com- mon with the monstrous child than just strangeness. For one thing, Montaigne’s assertion that his book has “un visage si esloi- gné de l’usage commun” [a face so remote from common usage] finds its mir- ror-reversed image in what he says about the monstrous child: “Il estoit en tout le reste d’une forme commune” [In all other respects he was of a com- mon shape] (II: 30, 712a, DM 523; 538*). That is, the two passages have “commun[e]” in common, though the uses made of that word are opposite, Montaigne in II: 8 insisting on the uncommonness of the Essays, while say- ing in II: 30 that in all respects other than what he is about to describe— the headless trunk, and the arms and legs of its conjoined twin—the child’s appearance was not uncommon. Indeed to the “visage” [face] of the Essays corresponds the face of the child, which is evidently one of the few things about him that have a normal aspect. To make the connection between his book and the monstrous child even more explicit, Montaigne goes on to say in “De l’affection des peres aus enfans” that the Essays have “un dessin farouche et monstreus” [a wild and monstrous plan] (II: 8, 385a, DM 67; 278*). That’s how the passages read in 1580 and 1588; subsequently he changed “monstreus” to “extravagant.” But the monstrosity of his chapters was already evident, and would remain so, in the passage at the beginning of “De l’amitié” where he characterized them as II. Book Two 145 “corps monstrueux, rappiecez de divers membres” [monstrous bodies, pieced together of diverse members] (I: 28, 183a, DM 251; 135).14 The monstrous child was composed of a “double corps  .  .  .  se rappor- tans à une seule teste” [double body  .  .  .  connected with a single head] (II: 30, 713a, DM 524; 539). In the post-1588 addition to which I alluded at the outset the same verb relates such natural monsters to their undiscovered counterparts: Ce que nous appellons monstres, ne le sont pas à Dieu, qui voit en l’im- mensité de son ouvrage l’infinité des formes qu’il y a comprinses; et est à croire que cette figure qui nous estonne, se rapporte et tient à quelque autre figure de mesme genre inconnu à l’homme. De sa toute sagesse il ne part rien que bon et commun et reglé; mais nous n’en voyons pas l’assortiment et la relation. [What we call monsters are not so to God, who sees in the immensity of his work the infinity of forms that he has comprised in it; and it is for us to believe that this figure that astonishes us is related and linked to some other figure of the same kind unknown to man. From his infinite wisdom there proceeds nothing but that is good and common and regular; but we do not see their arrangement and relationship.] (II: 30, 713c; 539*) One instance of the verb “se rapporter” self-namingly “se rapporte” [is related] to the other, for the two conjoined bodies are related to each other (and to the single head) as one monstrous event in God’s creation is related to its unnoticed double, and as one chapter is related to its symmetrical counterpart. Those relations are multiple. Three times the headless child attached to the other is called imperfect: “cet enfant imparfait  .  .  .  l’imparfait  .  .  . cet imparfaict” [this imperfect child  .  .  .  the imperfect one  .  .  .  this imperfect 14. Gisèle Mathieu-Castellani (Montaigne: L’écriture de l’essai [Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1988]) reads “D’un enfant monstrueux” in light of Montaigne’s comments in “De l’amitié” (I: 28) about the monstrosity of the Essays, and finds, as I do, that II: 30 is a “mise en abîme” of his book, but for quite different reasons. In her view, the Essays are “monstrous” in that they have no order other than a fortuitous one. But when he said that in I: 28 he was in my estimation referring to their sequence (from monster to monster), not their symmetry. Chapter II: 30 “emblematizes in the figure of the monster . . . the disproportioned and irregular structure of the essays, pieced together of divers members like the body of the child, and whose order is something other than ‘normal’” (222). She also argues that the text itself of II: 30, with its 1588 and 1595 accretions, comes increasingly to assume the doubleness of the monstrous child (228). But then so would any of dozens of chapters that grew enormously through their own accretions. 146 II. Book Two one] (II: 30, 713a, DM 524; 539*). Three times in the companion chapter does Montaigne speak of producing, by contrast, a perfect child. In the first instance, the “perfect child” would be something like the Essays, a literary production proceeding from Montaigne himself and the muses: Ce seroit à l’adventure impieté en Sainct Augustin (pour exemple) si d’un costé on luy proposoit d’enterrer ses escrits, dequoy nostre religion reçoit un si grand fruit, ou d’enterrer ses enfans, au cas qu’il en eut, s’il n’aimoit mieux enterrer ses enfans. Et je ne sçay si je n’aimerois pas mieux beaucoup en avoir produict ung, parfaictement bien formé, de l’acointance des muses, que de l’acointance de ma femme. [It would perhaps be impiety in Saint Augustine, for example—if it were proposed to him on the one hand to bury his writings, from which our religion receives such great fruit, or else to bury his children, in case he had any—if he did not prefer to bury his children. And I do not know whether I would not like much better to have produced one perfectly formed one by intercourse with the muses than by intercourse with my wife.] (II: 8, 401ab; 292–93*) The second and third instances occur in the same passage. In the former, the imagined perfect child would be a real one, though to which deeds of valor might be preferred; in the latter, the child is once more an artistic production: Il est malaisé à croire  .  .  .  que Alexandre et Caesar ayent jamais souhaité d’estre privez de la grandeur de leurs glorieux faicts de guerre, pour la com- modité d’avoir des enfans heritiers, quelques parfaits et accompliz qu’ils peussent estre; voire je fay grand doubte que Phidias, ou autre excellent statuere, aymait autant la conservation et la durée de ses enfans naturels, comme il feroit d’une image excellente qu’avec long travail et estude il auroit parfaite selon l’art. [It is hard to believe  .  .  .  that Alexander and Caesar ever wanted to be deprived of the grandeur of their glorious deeds of war for the satisfaction of having children and heirs, however perfect and accomplished they might be. Indeed I very much doubt that Phidias or any other excellent sculptor would be so pleased with the preservation and long life of his natural chil- dren as with that of an excellent statue that his long labor and study had perfected according to the rules of his art.] (II: 8, 402a; 293*) II. Book Two 147 Although perfection and imperfection make other appearances in the Essays, nowhere but in these two chapters do they refer to a child. So the imperfect child in II: 30, one of the monsters that Montaigne in that chapter declares has a counterpart somewhere else which we would perceive if we could only see “l’assortiment et la relation,” finds its symmetrical (that is, opposite) counterpart in the perfect children in the symmetrically paired chapter. The fathers of those perfect children would in each instance have willingly given them up for more prestigious progeny of a different sort—writings, deeds of war, a statue. Indeed, father-child relations are sometimes problem- atic in II: 8, despite the chapter’s title, not only in those three instances but also when the son and the father are competing for the same shot at success: Voulons nous estre aimés de nos enfans, leur voulons nous oster l’occa- sion de souhaiter nostre mort? . . . Pour cela il ne nous faudroit pas marier si jeunes que nostre aage vienne quasi à se confondre avec le leur. . . . Un gentil’homme qui a trante cinq ans, il n’est pas temps qu’il face place à son fils qui en a vint. Il est luy mesme au train de paroitre & aus voyages des guerres & en la court de son prince; il a besoin de ses pieces: il en doit cer- tainment faire part, mais telle part, qu’il ne s’oublie pas pour autruy. [Do we want to be loved by our children? Do we want to take away from them the occasion for desiring our death? . . . For that purpose, we should not marry so young that our age comes to be almost confounded with theirs.  .  .  . When a gentleman is thirty-five, it is not time for him to give place to his son who is twenty: he is himself in the midst of appearing on military expeditions and in the court of his prince; he needs his resources, and should certainly share them, but not so as to forget himself for others.] (II: 8, 389–90a, DM 74–75; 282–83) That unwise proximity of years, in which the age of one is likely to be con- fused with (“quasi à se confondre avec”) that of the other, makes father and son uncomfortably alike in their abilities and needs. They look more like brothers, strangely paralleling the monstrous child who was in fact a pair of brothers, conjoined twins linked at the chest (the smaller one headless but having arms), “comme si un plus petit enfant en vouloit accoler un plus gran- det. . . . Voilà comme ce qui n’étoit pas attaché, comme bras, fessier, cuisses & jambes de cet imparfaict demouroient pendans & branslans sur l’autre, & luy pouvoit aller sa longueur jusques à my jambe” [as if a smaller child were trying to embrace a bigger one around the neck.  .  .  . In this way all of this imperfect child that was not attached, as the arms, buttocks, thighs, and legs, 148 II. Book Two remained hanging and dangling on the other and might reach halfway down his legs] (II: 30, 713a, DM 524; 538). As if he were hanging onto the neck of his brother, he resembles the kind of imperfect child Montaigne accuses mothers of unjustly favoring and who consequently pose a problem for a father’s intention: it is dangerous to leave our wives in charge of our succes- sion and of which children to award it to, for “Communement on les void s’adonner aux plus foibles & malotrus, ou à ceux, si elles en ont, qui leur pendent encores au col ” [We commonly see them devote themselves to the weakest and most ill-favored, or those, if they have any, who are still hanging about their necks] (II: 8, 399a, DM 83; 290). The weaker, headless, brother is at the same time weaker and more ill-favored by nature and hanging onto the other and giving the illusion of embracing him around the neck. The son of a father too close to him in age can only succeed at the latter’s expense; likewise the weaker brother may ultimately drain the fully formed one of his strength. As it is, the latter, though already fourteen months old, cannot ingest solid food. Montaigne suggests that “Ce double corps & ces membres divers se rap- portans à une seule teste” [This double body and these several limbs, con- nected with a single head] (II: 30, 713a, DM 524; 539) might be a favorable omen for the king’s holding the diverse factions of his kingdom together, but that it would be better to let events take their course, “car il n’est que de deviner en choses faictes” [for there is nothing like divining about things past] (II: 30, 713a, DM 525; 539). In 1588 he would add this: “Comme on dict d’Epimenides qu’il devinoit à reculons” [As they said of Epimenides that he prophesied backward] (II: 30, 713b; 539). This could be a wink at the reader who has a good enough memory to recall (or rather who, having caught on Montaigne’s game of writing his chapters in symmetrical pairs, can go back and discover) that in “De l’affection des peres aux enfans” he wrote that although the care every animal takes for the conservation of its progeny is the second law of nature (the first being the instinct for self-preservation), “parce que nature semble nous l’avoir recommandée, regardant à estandre et faire aller avant les pieces successives de cette sienne machine, ce n’est pas merveille si, à reculons, des enfants aux peres, elle n’est pas si grande” [because Nature seems to have recommended it to us with a view to extend- ing and advancing the successive parts of this machine of hers, it is no won- der if, looking backward, the affection of children for their fathers is not so great] (II: 8, 386a, DM 69; 279*). Montaigne is inviting us in 1588, in other words, to prophesy backwards, to look back to find what was already there in 1580 (and backwards in the nominal order of the chapters), to find that other à reculons. II. Book Two 149 9. Only when You need it “Des armes des Parthes” [Of the armor of the Parthians] (II: 9) and “De la vertu” [Of virtue] (II: 29) In “Des armes des Parthes” Montaigne remarks that “Plusieurs nations vont encore & alloient anciennement à la guerre sans armes” [Several nations still go, and used to go, to war without wearing armor] (II: 9, 404a, DM 94; 294). In “De la vertu” he gives an example of just such a nation: the “Bedouins nation meslée aux Sarasins  .  .  .  alloient à la guerre nudz, sauf un glaive à la Turquesque & le corps seulement couvert d’un linge blanc” [Bedouins, a nation mingled with the Saracens . . . used to go to war unarmed except for a Turkish-style sword, their body covered only with a white linen cloth] (II: 29, 709a, DM 521–22; 536*). In 1588, Montaigne added to the II: 9 passage (after “sans armes”) “sans se couvrir, d’autres se couvroient de vaines armes” [without covering themselves; others covered themselves with useless armor].15 In a post-1588 revision, he changed that to “sans se couvrir; ou se couvroient d’inutiles defances” [without covering themselves; or covered themselves with useless armor]. The latter alteration did not change what the 1588 insertion added: the couvrir and couvroient that set up more echoes with the II: 29 pas- sage, in addition to the echoes already present between nations and nation, alloient . . . à la guerre and alloient à la guerre, and of course the notion itself of going to war without armor. II: 9 is about armor—the armor of Montaigne’s own time, the armor of the Romans, and that of the Parthians. But II: 29 is about virtue. So how does it happen that Montaigne finds himself talking about armor—specifi- cally, the lack thereof—in a chapter on virtue? And why does the statement in II: 9 about how some nations go to war without it find its only specific illustration in II: 29? What Montaigne appears to mean by “vertu” in II: 29 is impassibility, the ability to withstand pain. There is a big difference, he writes, between leaps of the soul and a resolute and constant habit. It is a greater thing “de se rendre impassible de soy, que d’estre tel de sa condition originelle” [to make oneself impassible by one’s own efforts than to be so by one’s natural condi- tion] (II: 29, 705a, DM 514; 532–33*). He cites as paragons of impassibility: Pyrrho, indifferent not only to what was around him (a disappearing inter- locutor, carts crossing his path in the street) but also to the pain of surgery; 15. Essais de Michel seigneur de Montaigne (Cinquiesme édition augmentée d’un troisiesme livre et de six cens additions aux deux premiers) (Paris: L’Angelier, 1588), 367. Available on the web at http://gallica. bnf.fr/ . 150 II. Book Two two men who cut off their genitals to make a point; Indian widows who perform suttee; Indian Gymnosophists who perform similar self-immolation; and the Bedouins whose belief that fate has already determined when they will die is so strong that they go into battle without armor. That “resolue & constante habitude” is hard to come by. Pyrrho in fact did not always have it (he quarreled with his sister and took defensive mea- sures against menacing dogs). But the Indian widows did, as it was “leur coustume” [their custom] (II: 29, 707a, DM 519; 534) to throw themselves like that on their husband’s funeral pyre. And unlike most of us, the Gym- nosophists proved their virtue (in burning themselves up without moving a muscle) “non par l’impetuosité d’un’humeur soudeine mais par expresse pro- fession de leur regle” [not by the impetuosity of a sudden impulse, but by the express profession of their order] (II: 29, 708a, DM 519; 535). We, on the other hand, can only attain such heights on special occasions, “par secousse” [fitfully], only in the form of “les boutées & saillies de l’ame” [the leaps and sallies of the soul] (II: 29, 705a, DM 514; 533*). Il nous advient à nous mesmes qui ne sommes qu’avortons d’hommes, d’es- lancer par fois nostre ame esveillée par les discours ou exemples d’autruy, bien loing au dela de son ordinaire : mais c’est une espece de passion, qui la pousse & agite, & qui la ravit aucunement hors de soy : car franchi ce tourbillon, nous voyons que sans y penser elle se débande & reláche d’elle mesme, sinon jusques à la derniere touche, au moins jusques à n’étre plus cele-la. De façon que lors, à toute occasion, pour un oiseau perdu, ou un verre cassé, nous nous sentons esmouvoir à plus pres comme l’un du vulgaire. [It happens to us, who are but abortions of men, sometimes to launch out our soul, arouse by the ideas or examples of others, very far beyond her ordinary range; but it is a kind of passion that impels and drives her, and which to some extent tears her out of herself. For when this whirlwind is over, we see that without thinking about it she unbends and relaxes of her- self, if not down to the lowest key, at least until she is no longer the same; so that then, for any occasion, for a lost bird or a broken glass, we let ourselves be moved just about like one of the vulgar.] (II: 29, 705a, DM 515; 533*) In contrast to extraordinary cases like the Indians and the Bedouins, vir- tue defined as impassibility is something we put on only at certain critical moments, and cast off when we no longer think we need it. We treat it like some sort of protective armor that would be too heavy to wear day in and II. Book Two 151 day out—and this is precisely the parallel Montaigne has set up between this chapter and its symmetrical double, which begins: “C’est une façon vitieuse de la noblesse de nostre temps, & pleine de mollesse, de ne prendre les armes que sur le point d’une extreme necessité & s’en descharger aussi tost qu’il y a tant soit peu d’apparance que le danger soit esloigné” [It is a vicious practice of the nobility of our time, and full of softness, to put on armor only on the point of extreme need and to take it off as soon as there is the slightest appearance that the danger has gone] (II: 9, 403a, DM 93; 293). The Romans wore heavy armor, typically sixty pounds as Montaigne points out, but “ils estoient si acoustumés à les porter, qu’elles ne les empeschoient non plus que leurs membres” [they were so accustomed to wearing it that it impeded them no more than their limbs] (II: 9, 405a, DM 96; 295*). But just as it was “leur coustume” that made it possible for Indian widows to die with their husbands, so too with armor: “Or il n’est que la coustume qui nous rende insupportable la charge de nos armes” [Now it is only custom that makes the burden of our armor insupportable to us] (II: 9, 404a, DM 95; 294*). 10. Act Your Age “Des livres” [Of books] (II: 10) and “Toutes choses ont leur saison” [There is a season for everything] (II: 28) In “Des livres” Montaigne tells us that at his advanced age he is in no mood to read for much more than pleasure: Mon dessein est de passer doucement non laborieusement ce qui me reste de vie. Il n’est rien pourquoy je me vueille rompre la teste, non pas pour la science mesme, de quelque grand pris qu’elle soit. Je ne cherche aux livres qu’à m’y donner du plaisir par un honneste amusement: ou si j’estudie je ny cerche que la science, qui traicte de la connoissance de moy mesmes, & qui m’instruise à bien mourir & à bien vivre. [My intention is to pass pleasantly, and not laboriously, what life I have left. There is nothing for which I want to rack my brain, not even knowl- edge, however great its value. I seek in books only to give myself pleasure by honest amusement; or if I study, I seek only the learning that treats of the knowledge of myself and instructs me in how to die well and live well.] (II: 10, 409a, DM 101; 297) 152 II. Book Two This is just what the companion chapter, “Toutes choses ont leur saison,” is all about, that there is a time for everything, and old age is the time to take one’s pleasure: “Le jeune doit faire ses apprets, le vieil en jouir” [Youth should make preparations, Old Age should enjoy them] (II: 28, 702a, DM 512; 531*). It is not the time for hard work or for learning something new, as Eudemonidas implied in his jab at the aged Xenocrates, who was still going to school: “quand sçaura cetui cy, ce dit il, s’il apprend encore?” [When will this man know, he said, if he is still learning?] (II: 28, 702a, DM 512; 531*). In II: 28 Montaigne criticizes Cato the Elder for taking up the study of Greek in his declining years: “qu’en son extreme vieillesse, il se mit à apprendre la langue Grecque . . . ne me semble pas luy estre fort honnorable. C’est proprement ce que nous disons, retomber en enfantillage. Toutes choses ont leur saison, les bonnes & tout” [That in his extreme old age he set him- self to learn Greek  .  .  .  does not seem to me to be much in his honor. It is exactly what we call falling back into childhood. All things have their season, good ones and all] (II: 28, 702a, DM 512; 531). In II: 10 he says that trying to read Greek in old age is not an appropriate activity for himself either. Con- cerning his own taste in books, he writes, “Je ne me prends guiere  .  .  .  aus Grecs, par ce que mon jugement ne se satisfait pas d’une moyenne intelli- gence” [I do not much take  .  .  .  to those in Greek, because my judgment is not satisfied with a mediocre understanding] (II: 10, 409–10a, DM 102; 297*). In a post-1588 rewording of this passage, he would enhance the paral- lel by changing “une moyenne intelligence” to “une puerile et apprantisse intel- ligence” [a childish and apprentice understanding] (II: 10, 410ac; 297), now closely matching the remark that Cato’s taking up Greek in his old age was to “retomber en enfantillage.” There would now be something childish about reading Greek both for the aged Cato and for the aging Montaigne, but for different reasons. Learning to read Greek was infantile for Cato because only the young should learn new things; reading Greek for Montaigne was to have to put up with only a childlike understanding of a text whose language he had not learned well enough. Before taking Cato the Elder to task for learning Greek in his dotage, Montaigne compares him unfavorably to his great-grandson and namesake, Cato the Younger. In the 1580–1588 editions, he had written “Ceux qui apparient Caton le censeur au jeune Caton meurtrier de soy-mesme, font à mon opinion grand honneur au premier. Car je les trouve eslongnés d’une extreme distance” [Those who liken Cato the Censor with the younger Cato, who was his own murderer, do great honor to the former; for I find them separated by an extreme distance] (II: 28, 702a and 702n, DM 512; 531). On the Bordeaux copy he replaced this assertion with one that says just the II. Book Two 153 opposite: that those who compare the two “apparient deux belles natures et de formes voisines” [are comparing two beautiful natures of neighboring (that is, similar) forms] (II: 28, 702c; 531*). But after initially elevating Cato the Elder to near-equal status with his grandson (and in fact saying that he exceeded the Younger in military and public service), he again stresses their difference, saying that the Elder could hardly be compared to the Younger in terms of virtue: “Mais la vertu du jeune, outre ce que c’est blaspheme de luy en apparier nulle autre en vigueur, fut bien plus nette. Car qui deschar- geroit d’envie et d’ambition celle du censeur, ayant osé chocquer l’honneur de Scipion, en bonté et en toutes parties d’excellence de bien loin plus grand et que luy et que tout homme de son siecle?” [But the virtue of the Younger, besides the fact that it is blasphemy to compare any other with it in vigor, was much more spotless. For who can acquit the Censor of envy and ambi- tion, when he dared to attack the honor of Scipio, a man in goodness and all aspects of excellence far greater than he or any other man of his time?] (II: 28, 702c; 531*). I bring this up because the contrast between an elder and younger Cato finds a suggestive parallel in the contrast in “Des livres” between the elder and younger Cicero (a name that likewise begins with C and ends with o): Cicero the orator and “Le jeune Cicero, qui n’a ressemblé son pere que de nom” [The younger Cicero, who resembled his father only in name] (II: 10, 415a, DM 114; 302). Montaigne tells an unflattering anecdote about the son, who once had a dinner guest flogged when reminded that the latter had once bragged that his own eloquence was greater than the elder Cicero’s. “Voilà un mal courtois hoste” [That was a discourteous host!] (II: 10, 415a, DM 114; 302). To say that the two Ciceros resembled each other in name only is pretty close to saying (from 1580 to 1588) that the two Catos were separated by a great distance or (post-1588) that they could not be compared in virtue, given the elder Cato’s attack on a man (Scipio) whose excellence far excelled his own. In fact, the post-1588 addition restates the notion of distance originally present in “je les trouve eslongnés d’une extreme distance” when it replaces it with the distance between Cato the Elder and the man he dishonorably attacked, who was “en toutes parties d’excellence de bien loin plus grand  .  .  .  que luy.” And the excellence that Cato the Elder so greatly lacked was lacking as well in the elder Cicero: “Quant à Cicero, je suis du jugement commun, que hors la science, il n’y avoit pas beaucoup d’excellence en luy” [As for Cicero, I am of the common opinion, that except for learning there was not much excellence in him] (II: 10, 415a, DM 113; 302*). There wasn’t much excellence in Cicero’s writings, either: “sa façon d’es- crire me semble lasche & ennuyeuse” [his writing style seems to me flaccid 154 II. Book Two and boring] (II: 10, 413a, DM 110; 301*). The only good thing about them is that they won’t interrupt your sleep: “Ils sont bons pour l’escole, pour le barreau, & pour le sermon, où nous avons loisir de sommeiller: & sommes encore un quart d’heure apres asses à temps pour rencontrer le fil du propos” [They are good for the school, for the bar, and for the sermon, where we have leisure to nap and are still in time a quarter of an hour later to pick up the thread of the discourse] (II: 10, 414a, DM 111; 301). The funny thing is, this sets up yet another connection to one of the Catos. Cato the Younger spent the last evening of his life reading a dialogue of Plato’s on the immortality of the soul (the Phaedo). Montaigne stresses that he did not read it to buck up his courage before committing suicide but rather that “comme celuy qui n’interrompit pas seulement son sommeil pour l’importance d’une telle deliberation, il continua aussi sans chois & sans changement ses estudes avec les autres actions acoustumées de sa vie” [but like a man who would not even interrupt his sleep out of concern over such a resolve, he also continued, without choice and without change, his studies together with the other customary actions of his life] (II: 28, 703–704a, DM 513–14; 532). So reading Plato is like sleeping in that both are activities that Cato refused to interrupt. But reading or listening to Cicero’s orations is an activity that sleep itself can interrupt with no damage done! Nothing is lost by dozing off; you can always pick up the thread because Cicero takes so long to get to the point anyway. Although “sommeil” and “sommeiller” appear forty-one times in the Essays, and an entire chapter (“Du dormir,” I: 44) is devoted to sleep, nowhere else is sleeping ever associated with texts. When Montaigne gives us in II: 10 a sample of Cicero’s words, they turn out to address the very topic that takes up so much of II: 28, the issue of acting one’s age: “Ego vero me minus diu senem esse mallem, quam esse senem, antequam essem” [For my part, in truth, I would rather be old less long than be old before I am old] (II: 10, 416a, DM 115; 303). It is not surprising that the two chapters should not agree, but it is worth noting that they are talking about the same thing. Wise men, Montaigne writes, find that the greatest vice among the old, in whose company he counts himself, is that “nos desseins rajeunissent sans cesse: nous recommençons toujours à vivre: nostre estude & nostre desir devroient quelque fois sentir la vieillesse” [our desires incessantly renew their youth. We are always beginning to live over again. Our study and our desire should sometimes reek of old age] (II: 28, 702a, DM 512–13; 531*). It would appear that Cato the Elder and the elder Cicero agree with each other (Cato living according to the Ciceronian dictum Montaigne quotes) while disagreeing with Montaigne, who would rather be old when he is old than young when no longer young. II. Book Two 155 In writing in “Des livres” about what he likes and doesn’t like to read, Montaigne provides an additional parallel to his assertion in the matching chapter that for every activity there is an appropriate time and an inappro- priate one, and that old age is often a determinant: “céte vieille ame poisante ne se laisse plus chatouiller, non seulement à l’Arioste, mais encores au bon Ovide: sa facilité & ses inventions qui m’ont ravy autres-fois, à peine m’entre- tiennent elles à céte heure” [this heavy old soul of mine no longer lets itself be tickled, not merely by Ariosto, but even by the good Ovid: his facility and inventions, which once enchanted me, hardly entertain me at all now] (II: 10, 410a, DM 102; 298). His taste in reading changes with age, in other words, as the title of the matching chapter asserts: “Toutes choses ont leur saison.” 11. doubly Cruel “De la cruauté” [Of cruelty] (II: 11) and “Couardise mere de la cruauté” [Cowardice, the mother of cruelty] (II: 27) Beyond displaying the same key word in their titles, these chapters feature a pair of nearly identical sentences: “Quant à moy en la justice mesme tout ce qui est au dela de la mort simple me semble pure cruauté” [As for me, even in justice, all that is beyond plain death seems to me pure cruelty] (II: 11, 431a, DM 144; 314) and “Tout ce qui est au dela de la mort simple, me semble pure cruauté” [All that is beyond plain death seems to me pure cruelty] (II: 27, 700a, DM 511; 530).16 In both passages (that is, in both chapters) Montaigne goes on to express concern for the state of the souls of those subjected to an execu- tion that goes beyond plain death, and who should not be driven to despair: “nous . . . devrions avoir respect d’en envoyer les ames en bon estat, ce qui ne se peut, les ayant agitées & desesperées par tourmens insuportables” [we ought to have some concern about sending souls away in a good state; which cannot happen when we have agitated them and made them desperate by unbearable tortures] (II: 11, 431a, DM 145; 314*); “je ne sçay ce pendant si nous les jettons au desespoir. Car en quel estat peut estre l’ame d’un homme attendant vintquatre heures la mort brisé sur une rouë . . . ?” [I do not know but that we meanwhile drive them to despair. For what can be the state of a man’s soul 16. Pierre Villey notes the resemblance in a note on the second passage: “Characteristic sentence that we have read already in essay II: 11” (700n). But he doesn’t say what it is characteristic of—the insistent doubling of words and phrases in symmetrically connected chapters. 156 II. Book Two who is waiting twenty-four hours for death broken on a wheel . . . ?] (II: 27, 701a, DM 511; 530). In looking for common ground as we have with previous chapter pairs, this time it might seem we find no resistance to overcome, no opportunity to exercise what Montaigne at the outset of one of these chapters calls “La vaillance (de qui c’est l’effect de s’exercer seulement contre la resistence)” [Valor (which acts only to exert itself against resistance)] (II: 27, 693a, DM 507; 524*) and near the beginning of the other he calls virtue: “il semble que le nom de la vertu presupose de la difficulté du combat & du contraste: & qu’elle ne peut estre sans partie” [it seems that the name of virtue presup- poses difficulty and contrast, and that it cannot be without an opponent] (II: 11, 422a, DM 127; 306–7*). In a telling post-1588 alteration, Montaigne changed “estre” to “s’exercer,” so that those last words would become “et qu’elle ne peut s’exercer sans partie” [and that it cannot exert itself without opposition]. It seems more than likely that he made this change to com- plete the parallel with the equivalent passage in the companion chapter: “La vaillance (de qui c’est l’effect de s’exercer seulement contre la resistence).” Nowhere else does the infinitive s’exercer appear in a context in which some- thing is potentially exerted against anything. In the passage from II: 11, there is no “partie” for it to exert itself against; in II: 27, it can only exert itself if there is “resistence.” Furthermore, nowhere else does “exercer” (as either pronominal or non- pronominal infinitive) appear with “contre” [against] than in this passage from II: 27—and in another passage from II: 11: “Il faut exercer ces inhu- mains excez contre l’escorce, non contre le vif ” [These inhuman excesses should be exercised against the skin, not against the living core] (II: 11, 432b; 315). These instances of [s’]exercer (whether we consider II: 11’s “s’exercer sans partie” in conjunction with II: 27’s “s’exercer  .  .  .  contre” or the lat- ter with II: 11’s “exercer  .  .  .  contre”) “exert themselves” [s’exercent], self- referentially, “against” [contre] each other alone, for they have no counter- parts but themselves. Although Montaigne talks about cruelty in both chapters, he arrives at the topic in different ways. In II: 27 it is announced in the very first sen- tence: “J’ay souvent oui dire, que la coüardise est mere de cruauté” [I have often heard it said that cowardice is the mother of cruelty] (II: 27, 693a, DM 507; 523). But in II: 11 it is not until past the mid-point (on the eighth of fourteen pages in the Villey edition, the sixteenth of twenty-five in 1580) that cruelty makes its first appearance apart from the title: “Je hay entre autres vices cruellement la cruauté, & par nature & par jugement, comme l’extreme de tous les vices” [Among other vices, I cruelly hate cruelty, both by II. Book Two 157 nature and by judgment, as the extreme of all vices] (II: 11, 429a, DM 141; 313). Up until this point in II: 11 Montaigne had been consistently speak- ing about how souls like his give only the semblance of virtue, since they are not subject to temptations that must be mastered. “Je ne me suis mis en grand effort pour brider les desirs dequoy je me suis trouvé pressé. Ma vertu c’est une vertu, ou innocence, pour mieux dire, accidentale & fortuite” [I have not put myself to great effort to curb the desires by which I have found myself pressed. My virtue is a virtue, or I should say an innocence, that is accidental and fortuitous] (II: 11, 427a, DM 137–38; 311). Because he comes by it naturally, his aversion to cruelty, for example, is no virtue. In a strange and striking opposition, while Montaigne in II: 11 has an aversion to cruelty because of his own “mollesse” [softness]—“Je hay . . . cruel- lement la cruauté  .  .  .  jusques à telle mollesse que je ne voy pas égorger un poulet sans desplaisir, & ois impatiemment gemir un lievre sous les dens des chiens: quoy que ce soit un plaisir violent que la chasse” [I hate  .  .  .  cruelty cruelly  .  .  .  to such a point of softness that I cannot see a chicken’s neck cut without distress and I cannot bear to hear a dying hare groan beneath the dogs’ teeth, although the chase is a violent pleasure] (II: 11, 429a, DM 141; 313*)—in a 1588 addition to II: 27 he says that men characterized by “mol- lesse” have a propensity to cruelty! Et ay par experience apperçeu que cette aigreur et aspreté de courage mali- tieux et inhumain s’accompaigne coustumierement de mollesse feminine. J’en ay veu des plus cruels, subjets à pleurer aiséement et pour des causes frivoles. Alexandre, tyran de Pheres, ne pouvoit souffrir d’ouyr au theatre le jeu des tragedies, de peur que ses citoyens ne le vissent gemir aus malheurs de Hecuba et d’Andromache, luy qui, sans pitié faisoit cruellement meurtrir tant de gens tous les jours. [And I have found by experience that the bitterness and hardness of a mali- cious and inhuman heart are usually accompanied by feminine softness. I have observed that some of the most cruel are subject to weeping easily and for frivolous reasons. Alexander, tyrant of Pheres, could not bear to hear tragedies played in the theater for fear that his citizens might see him groan- ing at the misfortunes of Hecuba and Andromache, he who, without pity, had so many people cruelly murdered every day.] (II: 27, 693b; 523–24*) Just as Montaigne cannot stand to see a chicken slaughtered nor to hear the groan (“& ois impatiemment gemir”) of the dying hare, the tyrant Alexan- der could not bear to see and hear (“ne pouvoit souffrir d’ouyr”) the suffer- 158 II. Book Two ings of fictional characters on the stage, for fear his subjects would see him groan [gemir]. Montaigne hates cruelty cruelly [cruellement]; the tyrant cruelly [cruellement] put people to death every day. These lexemes (cruauté / cruel / cruellement, ouïr, gémir) appear together in no other chapter. It is cowardly camp-followers who are cruel, not the brave. Valor acts only to overcome resistance and therefore s’arreste à voir l’ennemi à sa merci: mais la lascheté pour dire qu’elle est aussi de la feste, n’ayant peu se meslier à ce premier rolle prend pour sa part le second, du massacre & du sang. Les meurtres des victoires se font ordi- nairement par le peuple & par les officiers du bagage: & ce qui fait voir tant de cruautés inouies aus guerres populaires, c’est que céte canaille de vulgaire s’aguerit & se gendarme à s’ensanglanter jusques aus coudes & à deschique- ter un corps à ses piedz, n’ayant resentiment de null’autre vaillance. Comme les chiens coüards, qui deschirent en la maison & mordent les peaus des bestes sauvages, qu’ilz n’ont osé attaquer aux champs. [stops when it sees the enemy at its mercy. But cowardice, in order to say that it is also in the game, having been unable to take part in this first act, takes as its part the second, that of massacre and bloodshed. The murders in victories are usually done by the mob and the baggage officers. And what causes so many unheard-of cruelties in wars in which the people take part is that that beastly rabble tries to be warlike and brave by ripping up a body at their feet and bloodying themselves up to their elbows, having no sense of any other kind of valor. Like cowardly dogs, that in the house tear and bite the skins of wild beasts that they did not dare attack in the fields.] (II: 27, 693–94a, DM 507–8; 524*) In a 1588 addition to the matching chapter, Montaigne inserted a coun- terpart to what those dogs do: Artaxerxes softened the harshness of Persia’s ancient laws by ordaining that the lords who had failed in their charge, “au lieu qu’on les souloit foïter, fussent despouillés, et leurs vestements foitez pour eux” [instead of being whipped, as was the custom, should be stripped, and their clothes whipped in their place] (II: 11, 432b; 315). As dogs took out their aggressions on the animals’ skins (skins that could be turned into cloth- ing), Artaxerxes whipped clothes instead of their owners. In a post-1588 addition to II: 27, Montaigne found an equivalent to match this painless whipping: Aristotle, upon hearing that someone had spoken ill of him, said “Qu’il face plus  .  .  .  qu’il me fouëtte, pourveu que je n’y soy pas” [Let him do more . . . let him whip me, provided I am not there] (II: 27, 695c; 525). II. Book Two 159 In another late addition, he inserts into II: 11 a subtle allusion to the bag- gage officers and rabble in II: 27 who display “la lascheté pour dire qu’elle est aussi de la feste” [the cowardice that wants to say it is also in the game] and consequently behave like dogs (the dogs who attack the skins of beasts they were afraid of confronting when alive), and that do so at an inappro- priate time (when the battle is over): “Je ne creins point à dire la tendresse de ma nature si puerile que ne je puis pas bien refuser à mon chien la feste qu’il m’offre hors de saison ou qu’il me demande” [I am not afraid to admit that my nature is so tender, so childish, that I cannot well refuse my dog the play he offers me or asks of me outside the proper time] (II: 11, 435c; 318). There is softness in both instances (the mollesse of the cruel, whether they be tyrants like Alexander of Pheres or the post-battle crowd in one passage, and Montaigne’s childishly tender nature in the other), as well as the untimely (after the battle is already decided in one case, “hors de saison” in the other) demand for “la feste.” Here as in so many other instances Montaigne takes elements from a story or a discussion on one chapter and rearranges them in the matching one, often with a reversal: all of these dogs demand a “feste,” those in II: 27 because of their softness, the one in II: 11 because of Mon- taigne’s, whose softness is elsewhere in that chapter called by the same name as that of the rabble and the dogs in II: 27, “mollesse.” 12. Opposable thumbs “Apologie de Raimond Sebond” [Apology for Raymond Sebond] (II: 12) and “Des pouces” [Of thumbs] (II: 26) Of all the chapter pairings, this seems the most unlikely. Eventually running to more than 60,000 words, “Apologie de Raimond Sebond” is a book-length disquisition on the limits of human reason; “Des pouces” focuses its fewer than 300 words on thumbs. Yet that very disparity brings them together, for as II: 12 is the longest chapter in the Book Two, II: 26 is the shortest— extremes that, as we will see, touch. We can rest assured Montaigne has something up his sleeve when we discover that in all editions published in his lifetime the only other thumbs to be found in all the Essays show up—you guessed it—in the “Apologie”: “Il ne faut que sçavoir que le lieu de Mars loge au milieu du triangle de la main, celuy de Venus au pouce & de Mercure au petit doigt” [A man need only know that the seat of Mars is located in the middle of the triangle of the hand, that of Venus on the thumb, that of Mercury on the little finger] 160 II. Book Two (II: 12, 560a, DM 328; 420). The context for this is palm reading influenced by astrology, which Montaigne dismisses as yet another instance of human folly. But that the thumb is the seat of Venus is not so easily dismissed, for he shows how sexy it can be in “Des pouces”: “Les Grecz l’appellent αντι- χειρ, comme qui diroit une autre main. Et il semble que parfois les Latins les prennent aussi en ce sens de main entiere. Sed nec vocibus excitata blandis / Molli pollice nec rogata surgit” [The Greeks call it αντιχειρ, as though to say “another hand.” And it seems that sometimes the Latins also take it in the sense of the entire hand: “Neither sweet words of persuasion nor the help of her voluptuous thumb can get it erect”17] (II: 26, 691a, DM 507–8; 523*). These two erotic thumbs (one of which may be a metonym for a hand) were spotted by Fausta Garavini, though without reference to the structural con- nection that secretly links these chapters.18 She calls the chapter on thumbs “perhaps the most disconcerting” of all the chapters, “an absolutely opaque text, that seems to reveal no reason for why Montaigne decided to discuss this topic” (105). Garavini notes as well that it disproves Villey’s theory that the 1580 edition was imperfect but perfectible as Montaigne added more reveal- ing comments about himself in subsequent editions, for he adds none to this chapter. For her, “this text seems to enclose the knot of something unsaid” (108), some unspeakable psychic phantasm, because thumbs for Montaigne are a stand-in for the penis. After quoting the following passage— Tacitus recite que parmy certains rois barbares, pour faire une obligation asseurée, leur maniere estoit de joindre estroitement leurs mains droites l’une à l’autre & s’entrelasser les pouces: & quand à force de les presser le sang en estoit monté au bout, ils les blessoient de quelque legiere pointe & puis se les entresucçoint. [Tacitus reports that among certain barbarian kings, to make an obligation binding, the custom was to join their right hands tightly together and to interlace their thumbs; and when by dint of pressing them the blood had risen to the tips, they pricked them lightly and then sucked each other’s blood.] (II: 26, 691a, DM 505; 523*) —she comments: “The pierced thumb and the blood that comes out of it are here metaphors for the engorged member and ejaculation” (107). I would 17. I have adopted Screech’s translation (784), enhanced by the “voluptueux” by which Balsamo et al. render “Molli,” which Screech does not translate. 18. Monstres et chimères: Montaigne, le texte et le fantasme. Translated by Isabel Picon (Paris: Honoré Champion, 1993), 106. II. Book Two 161 go even farther, and say that the whole scene suggests mutual fellatio—not in Tacitus’ text, but in Montaigne’s quoting it just before quoting Martial’s epigram about the thumb’s (or hand’s) failure to bring about an erection. But there is something else going on in “Des pouces.” As in other chapter pairs, here too there emerge a number of allusions passing from one chapter to the other and they are not all sexual. The passage about thumb-sucking kings includes two: (1) The only other instance of sucking in the Essays (apart from a post-1588 substitution of “sucent” [suck] for “espuisent” [exhaust] in Book Three19) appears in the “Apologie”: “L’humeur que succe la racine d’un arbre, elle se faict tronc, feuille et fruit” [The moisture that the root of a tree sucks up becomes trunk, leaf, and fruit] (II: 12, 599a, DM 388; 453). (2) What barbarian kings did to their thumbs before they pierced and sucked them—“s’entrelasser les pouces” [to interlace their thumbs]—hap- pens to fingers in the “Apologie”: “À manier une balle d’arquebouse soubs le second doigt, celuy du milieu estant entrelassé par dessus, il faut extreme- ment se contraindre, pour advouer qu’il n’y en ait qu’une, tant le sens nous en represente deux” [When rolling a harquebus bullet under the forefinger, the middle finger being entwined above it, we have to force ourselves hard to admit that there is only one, so strongly does our sense represent two to us] (II: 12, 592a, DM 376; 448*). Entwined fingers, entwined thumbs: this only happens in II: 12 and II: 26, where enough other entrelassements occur that it seems to be a running theme: Aux spectacles de Rome il se voyoit ordinairement des elephans dressez à se mouvoir & dancer au son de la voix des dances à plusieurs entrelasseures, coupures & diverses cadances tres-difficiles à aprendre. Il s’en est veu, qui en leur privé rememoroient leur leçon & s’exerçoient par soin & par estude pour n’estre tancez & batus de leurs maistres. [In the spectacles in Rome it was quite usual to see elephants trained to move and dance, to the sound of the human voice, dances with many inter- lacing movements, changes of step and cadenzas, all very hard to learn. Some of them have been seen in private going over their lesson and practicing with care and study, so as not to be scolded and beaten by their masters.] (II: 12, 465a, DM 195; 341*) 19. In “De la vanité”: “s’il advenoit, comme disent aucuns jardiniers, que les roses et violettes naissent plus odoriferantes pres des aulx et des oignons, d’autant qu’ils espuisent et tirent à eux ce qu’il y a de mauvaise odeur en la terre” [if it happened to be true, as some gardeners say, that roses and violets spring up more fragrant near garlic and onions, because these exhaust and draw to themselves whatever there is that smells bad in the ground] (III: 9, 972b, DM 418; 742*). 162 II. Book Two These entrelasseures were evidence of the surprising intelligence of animals; so too are those from which halcyons build their floating nests (and even more so, since the elephants were taught their dances but the birds construct their nests without human help): Mais nulle suffisance n’a encores peu attaindre à la cognoissance de céte merveilleuse fabrique, de quoy l’halcyon compose le nid pour ses petitz & en deviner la matiere. Plutarque qui en a veu & manié plusieurs, pense que ce soit des arestes de quelque poisson qu’elle conjoint et lie ensemble, les entrelassant les unes de long, les autres de travers, & adjoustant des courbes & des arrondissemens, tellement qu’en fin elle en forme un vaisseau rond prest à voguer. [But no cleverness has yet been able to attain the knowledge of the mar- velous workmanship by which the halcyon builds the nest for her young, and to guess the material of it. Plutarch, who saw and handled several of them, thinks that they are the bones of some fish that she joins and binds together, interlacing them, some lengthwise, the others crosswise, and add- ing ribs and hoops so that at last it forms a round vessel ready to float.] (II: 12, 480–81a, DM 228–29; 354*) Montaigne added yet another to the series at some point after 1588, the “entrelassemens des corps celestes” [interlacings of the heavenly bodies] (II: 12, 536c; 400), bringing the number to four. There are entrelasseures elsewhere in the Essays. Curiously, none of them involve material objects (the elephants themselves in their dances, fish bones in halcyons’ nests, heavenly bodies, fingers—and thumbs, in “Des pouces”), but instead are composed entirely of words: “l’imposture des mots captieuse- ment entrelassez” [the imposture of words captiously interlaced] (I: 25, 143a; 105); “On tient quatre ou cinq ans à entendre les mots et les coudre en clauses . . . et autres cinq . . . à les sçavoir brefvement mesler et entrelasser de quelque subtile façon” [Schoolmasters keep us for four or five years learning to understand words and stitch them into sentences  .  .  .  another five  .  .  . learning how to mix and interweave them briefly in some subtle way] (I: 26, 168a; 124–25*); “cette implication et entrelasseure de language” [this compli- cation and interlacing of language] (III: 8, 927b; 707); “sans l’entrelasser de paroles” [without interlacing it with words] (III: 9, 995b; 761*). Montaigne’s consistency in making the interlacings outside of II: 12 / II: 26 consist of words, by contrast to those within that intratext, suggests he knew what he was doing, which has the effect of tightening the link between the entrelasse- II. Book Two 163 ment going on in “Des pouces” and those taking place in the “Apologie.” Of these the most striking is the entwining of fingers that not only matches that other entwining of digits in II: 26 but by creating the illusion of two from one uncannily replicates its own duplication. It is yet more evidence that Montaigne distributes certain words and expressions with extreme care, so that they create a hidden network of allu- sions; those of particular interest to us appear in symmetrically-related chap- ters. Here is another instance: “Les medecins disent que les pouces sont les maitres doig[t]s de la main, & que leur etymologie Latine vient de pollere, qui signifie exceller sur les autres” [The doctors say that the thumbs are the master fingers of the hand and that their etymology in Latin is from pollere, which means to excel over the others] (II: 26, 691a, DM 505–06; 523*). The last six words disappeared in a post-1588 alteration, but until then—which is to say in all editions published in Montaigne’s lifetime—they found a unique echo in a passage in the “Apologie” where Montaigne makes fun of the philoso- phers who said that Ulysses on Circe’s island would have done better to drink the cup of folly than to allow himself to be changed into a beast: “Ce n’est donc plus par la raison, par le discours & par l’ame que nous excellons sur les bestes? c’est par nostre beauté” [Then it is no longer by our reason, our intel- ligence, and our soul that we excel over the beasts? It is by our beauty] (II: 12, 486a, DM 236; 358*). The echoing expression composed of the verb exceller + “sur les” appears nowhere else. It suggests that the superiority of thumbs to fingers parallels the superiority of man over the other animals, although in a typical Montaignian reversal man’s alleged superiority is undercut throughout the “Apologie” while the thumb’s is stoutly maintained in “Des pouces.” The same passage in “Des pouces” is the site of another unique echo, the one formed by “pollere” with its only other appearance in the Essays, in the “Apologie”: Voilà de nostre siecle une grandeur infinie de terre ferme,  .  .  .  une partie esgale à peu prez en grandeur à celle que nous cognoissons, qui vient d’estre descouverte. Les Geographes d’à céte heure ne faillent pas d’asseurer que meshuy tout est trouvé & que tout est veu, Nam quod adest praesto placet, & pollere videtur. [Behold in our century an infinite extent of terra firma, . . . a portion nearly equal in size to the one we know, which has just been discovered. The geog- raphers of the present time do not fail to assure us that now all is discovered and all is seen, “For what is at hand pleases, and seems to be best.”] (II: 12, 572a, DM 351; 430*) 164 II. Book Two It was perhaps not by chance that Montaigne chose to plant the “pollere” that points to the other “pollere” (in II: 26) here, in an evocation of what in “Des cannibales” he calls “cet autre monde qui a esté descouvert” [that other world which has been discovered] (I: 31, 203a; 150), for in “Des pouces” we have seen him characterize the thumb as “une autre main” [another hand]. As one “pollere” points to the other, the other world points to the other hand. The new world is “esgale à peu prez en grandeur” [nearly equal in size] to the one we know, which isn’t true of the chapters when we count their pages, but is true of them when we recognize that each occupies an equal place in the col- lection of symmetrical pairs, as well as in the list of chapters without regard to their symmetry. The discoveries we are making about them help assuage the dismay we might feel that as puny and seemingly silly a chapter as “Des pouces” should be set up to counterbalance as important and imposing a chapter as the “Apologie.” Montaigne was fully aware of the scandalous inequality of their length. He was in on the joke (he should have been, since it was his). That’s why he calls the thumb “une autre main,” and claims its etymology means to excel over the others (over the other fingers, apparently). Thumbs have the power of life and death, as he goes on in “Des pouces” to show when he alludes to audiences at gladiatorial contests using their thumbs to decide the fate of the combatants.20 In the only other appearance of a thumb in the Essays, in a post-1588 addition to “De l’yvrongnerie,” he brags about his father’s abil- ity to “faire le tour de la table sur son pouce” [to do a turn over the table on his thumb] (II: 2, 344c; 248)—a paternal thumb strong enough to take the place of a hand. In balancing “Des pouces” against the “Apologie” (itself a defense, ostensibly, of the theological treatise by Sebond his father had set him the task of translating), Montaigne duplicates in letters the feat his father performed in reality, showing the unexpected power of a thumb to bear weight. More than that, the “Apologie” is in fact about a hand, God’s: Aussi n’est il pas croyable que toute céte machine n’ayt quelques marques empreintes de la main de ce grand architecte.  .  .  . Il a laissé en ces haults ouvrages le caractere de sa divinité: & ne tient qu’à nostre imbecillité que 20. Contrary to popular opinion today, Montaigne reports that thumbs up meant death and thumbs down life. Anthony Corbeill in a recent survey of Latin and other texts on the subject (“Thumbs in Ancient Rome: ‘Pollex’ as Index,” Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 42 [1997]: 1–21), says that “Des pouces” is “The only discussion I have found that corresponds with my own conclusions” (1n2). II. Book Two 165 nous ne le puissions descouvrir. . . . Sebond s’est travaillé à ce digne estude & nous monstre comment il n’est nulle piece du monde, qui desmante son facteur. [It is not credible that this whole machine should not have on it some marks imprinted by the hand of this great architect.  .  .  . He has left the stamp of his divinity on these lofty works, and it is only because of our imbecility that we cannot discover it. . . . Sebond has labored at this worthy study, and shows us how there is no part of the world that belies its maker.] (II: 12, 446–47a, DM 163–64; 326) “Des pouces” opposes itself to the “Apologie” as the thumb to the hand, an equal contest, if we can believe Montaigne. But at the same time the Essays are Montaigne’s creation, as the world is God’s, and just as we can see God’s handprint in the latter we can see Montaigne’s thumbprint in the former, particularly in the intratext these two chapters form. We have seen that when he wrote one he was thinking of, and was writing or rewriting, the other. We have seen that in the beginning—in 1580, and up until some point after 1588—the only thumbs in French to be found in the Essays were in II: 12 and II: 26, prominently displayed in the latter, tucked away almost out of sight in the huge mass of out of the former but we would have only our imbecility to blame if we could not discover it. Not only that, but at first (from 1580 to 1588) the only other Latin thumb besides those in II: 26 (“Molli pollice nec rogata,” “laudabit pollice ludum,” “converso pollice vulgi”) was this one in II: 12: Ce que ma force ne peut descouvrir, je ne laisse pas de le sonder & essayer: & en retastant & pestrissant céte nouvelle matiere, la remuant & l’eschau- fant j’ouvre à celuy, qui me suit, quelque facilité pour en jouir plus à son ayse, & la luy rendz plus souple, & plus maniable. Ut hymettia sole / Cera remollescit, tractataque pollice, / multas / Vertitur in facies, ipsoque fit uti- lis usu. [I do not leave off sounding and testing what my powers cannot discover; and by handling again and kneading this new material, stirring it and heat- ing it, I open up to whoever follows me some facility to enjoy it more at his ease, and make it more supple and manageable for him: “As Hymettian wax grows softer in the sun, / Takes many shapes when molded by the thumb, / And thus by usage useful does become.”] (II: 12, 560a, DM 330; 421) 166 II. Book Two In a self-naming way, this pollice bears Montaigne’s thumbprint, as he worked and reworked the “Apologie” to make it a worthy partner for “Des pouces,” handling and kneading the text so that some future reader—“qui me suit” [who follows me]—could find that pollice, and discern its importance. Sig- nificantly, this passage does not occur in isolation but is part of the same discussion in which the other thumb, the one in French (the seat “de Venus au pouce” [of Venus on the thumb]), appeared—on the same page in the Villey edition (560a). The argument goes thus: palmistry is bunk; human knowledge has certain defined limits, but progress is possible as one seeker may succeed where another has failed; the arts and sciences do not come out fully formed from a mold but are worked and reworked as a bear licks her cubs into shape, as in my own case I handle and knead material in such a way that someone coming after me (who follows me in both senses: comes after and understands what I am up to) will find it more useful, like Hymettan wax molded by the thumb. But as Mary McKinley reminds us,21 the passage he quotes (“Ut hymet- tia . . . ”) comes from Ovid’s version of the story of Pygmalion, from which Montaigne had quoted lines that immediately precede this passage at the conclusion to “De l’affection des peres aux enfans” in the context of an author’s paternal affection for the book that is his child: Pygmalion, qui, ayant basty une statue de femme de beauté singuliere, il devint si éperdument espris de l’amour forcené de ce sien ouvrage, qu’il falut qu’en faveur de sa rage les dieux la luy vivifiassent, Tentatum mollescit ebur, positóque rigore / Subsedit digitis. [Pygmalion, who after building a statue of a woman of singular beauty, became so madly and frantically smitted with love of his work that the gods, for the sake of his passion, had to bring it to life for him: “Its hard- ness gone, the ivory softens, yields / Beneath his fingers.”] (II: 8, 402a; 293) Thus the material he molds with his thumb really is the book itself, the text in which thumbs self-referentially appear in symmetrically placed chapters. He invites “celuy, qui me suit” to imitate Pygmalion and to place his own thumbs on the mold that he has softened for us. But part of his softening is to have left for his reader to find and apply to this passage in II: 12 the literal 21. In Words in a Corner: Studies in Montaigne’s Latin Quotations (Lexington, KY: French Forum Publishers, 1981), 20–26. The two quotations from Ovid are also discussed by Richard L. Regosin in Montaigne’s Unruly Brood: Textual Engendering and the Challenge to Paternal Authority (Berkeley: Uni- versity of California Press, 1996), 125. II. Book Two 167 thumbs he has placed in the matching chapter, II: 26. Even here, when he seems particularly open to letting his readers bring his text to completion, he is already there before us; he has already done that completing work. It just remains for his readers to discover it. 13. eyes wide shut “De juger de la mort d’autruy” [Of judging someone else’s death] (II: 13) and “De ne contrefaire le malade” [Of not pre- tending to be sick] (II: 25) It is hard to tell if someone is really being courageous when confronted by his imminent demise, according to Montaigne, because so many in that situ- ation lull themselves into a false sense of security. Few with a terminal illness really believe they will die. We think of others who have been just as sick but haven’t died, and imagine that God can always pull off a miracle. We think of everything in relation to ourselves, and that the universe would be affected by our demise and has compassion for us. D’autant que nostre veüe alterée se represente les choses de mesmes, & nous est advis qu’elles luy faillent à mesure qu’elle leur faut: comme ceus qui voyagent en mer, ausquels il semble que les montaignes, les campaignes, les villes, le ciel & la terre aille mesme bransle, & quant & quant eus. D’ou il s’ensuit que nous estimons grande chose nostre mort, & qui ne se passe pas si aisément ny sans solenne consultation des astres. [because our altered vision represents things to itself as being likewise altered and we think they are failing it in proportion as it is failing them, like trav- elers at sea, for whom mountains, countryside, cities, heaven, and earth move right along with them and at the same pace. And so it follows that we reckon our death to be a great event, something which does not happen lightly nor without solemn consultations among the heavenly bodies.]22 (II: 13, 605–6a, DM 398–99; 458*) 22. I adopt Screech’s translation of the last sentence (685). Unlike Frame, who renders the last words as “not without solemn consultation of the stars,” Screech understands “des” in “consultation des astres” to be a subjective, not an objective, genitive. Montaigne’s post-1588 addition at this point of Seneca’s words “tot circa unum caput tumultuantes deos” [so many gods in an uproar about one single head] makes it all the more likely that he meant the stars consulting among themselves, as the gods were themselves in tumult. 168 II. Book Two Such people are unaware of the danger they are in. Pretending to be health- ier than they are, they find their counterpart in the counterpart chapter in people who pretend to be sick. Those in II: 13 counterfeit health; those in II: 25 counterfeit illness. Not only do the terminally ill in II: 13 have false hopes of survival, but they also have an altered vision of the universe that leads them to think that unless the stars are concerned by their demise they aren’t going to die. It is a question of seeing clearly or not, a theme to which Montaigne will return a little later in II: 13 when he writes of those facing a violent death: Nul ne se peut dire étre resolu à la mort . . . qui ne peut la soutenir les yeux ouvers. Ceux qu’on voit aux supplices courir à leur fin . . . ne le font pas de vraye resolution, ils se veulent oster le temps de la considerer  .  .  .  comme ceux qui se jetent dans les dangiers, comme dans la mer à yeux clos. [No man can be said to be resolute in death  .  .  .  who cannot sustain it with open eyes. Those whom we see at executions running to meet their end . . . do not do so out of resolution; they want to deprive themselves of the time to consider it . . . like those who plunge into dangers, as into the sea, with their eyes closed.] (II: 13, 608a, DM 403; 460–61*) This “veüe alterée,” these “yeux ouvers” and these “yeux clos”—these varia- tions on impaired vision find their counterpart in II: 25, for there Mon- taigne gives us six instances of impaired vision (four of which are voluntary and two involuntary), and four out of the six examples he provides of coun- terfeiting illness involve the eyes. Here they all are in the order in which they appear: 1. Martial tells of a man who in order to avoid court functions pre- tended to suffer from gout. To be more convincing, he oiled and wrapped his legs, and completely imitated the behavior and counte- nance of a gouty man. In the end, fortune did him the favor of giv- ing him the condition for real. 2. Appian tells of a man fleeing the Roman triumvirs who to disguise himself put a patch on one eye, but when it was safe to remove it discovered he had become blind in that eye. 3. Reading in Froissart about the vow some young Englishmen made to keep their left eye covered until they had accomplished some feat of arms against the French, Montaigne amuses himself with the thought that they might have found themselves “tous éborgnés” [all II. Book Two 169 one-eyed] (II: 25, 689a, DM 502–3; 521) when they got back home to the sweethearts to whom they had made that vow. 4.–6. “Les meres ont raison de tancer leurs enfans, quand ilz contrefont les borgnes, les boiteux & les bicles & tels autres defautz de la personne” [Mothers are right to scold their children when they imitate one-eyed, lame, and cross-eyed people, and other such personal defects] (II: 25, 689a, DM 503; 521). For young bodies can acquire a bad twist by such behavior; besides, fortune loves to take us at our word and I have heard tell of many who have become sick after faking an illness. The “tels autres defautz” being too vague to put into either category, this amounts to two counterfeit leg ailments (the “gouteux” and the “boiteux”) vs. four counterfeit eye ailments (three “borgnes” and one allusion to “bicles”). But so intent is Montaigne on focusing on instances of altered vision that he introduces two more instances of blindness that have nothing to do with counterfeiting a malady, even though that is what the chapter is supposed to be about. Here is the first: Mais alongeons ce chapitre & le bigarrons d’une autre piece à propos de la cecité. Pline conte d’un qui songeant estre aveugle en dormant s’en trouva l’endemain sans aucune maladie precedente. La force de l’imagination peut bien ayder à cela, comme j’ay dit ailleurs, & semble que Pline soit de cet advis. Mais il est plus vray-semblable, que les mouvemens que le corps sen- toit au dedens, desquels les medecins trouveront s’il veulent la cause, qui luy ostoient la veüe, furent occasion du songe. [But let us lengthen this chapter and variegate it with another piece apro- pos of blindness. Pliny tells of a man who, dreaming in his sleep that he was blind, found himself so the next day, without any previous illness. The power of imagination can indeed contribute to such results, as I have said elsewhere, and Pliny seems to be of this opinion. But it is more likely that the movements which the body felt within, of which the doctors may find out the cause, if they will, and which deprived him of his sight, were the occasion of the dream.] (II: 25, 689a, DM 503) So it is not even a case of involuntarily counterfeiting blindness, nor of the thought (the dream) bringing about the change in the body, but of the ail- ment creating the thought. The other instance of blindness that he tacks on to the chapter, unlike this one, has no connection at all to the relation between imagination and 170 II. Book Two illness, mind and body (a relation that does have some relevance to faking illness: one is aware of the malady one is counterfeiting). But it has a very strong connection to what he says in II: 13 about how “nostre veüe alterée se represente les choses de mesmes, & nous est advis qu’elles luy faillent à mesure qu’elle leur faut” [our altered vision represents things to itself as being likewise altered and we think they are failing it in proportion as it is failing them]: Adjoutons encore un’histoire voisine de ce propos, que Seneque recite en l’une de ses lettres. Tu sçais, dit il, . . . que Harpaste la folle de ma femme est demeurée chez moy pour charge hereditaire.  .  .  . Céte folle a subite- ment perdu la veüe. Je te recite chose estrange, mais veritable. Elle ne sent point qu’elle soit aveugle, & presse incessamment son gouverneur de l’en emmener, par ce qu’elle dict que ma maison est obscure. [Let us add one more story close to this subject, which Seneca tells in one of his letters. “You know,” he says, . . . ”that Harpaste, my wife’s fool, has stayed at my house as a hereditary charge. . . . This fool has suddenly lost her sight. I am telling you something strange, but true. She does not realize that she is blind, and constantly urges her keeper to take her out, because she says my house is dark.”] (II: 25, 689a, DM 504; 522) Harpaste’s attitude toward her blindness is about as good an illustration one could imagine of how our “veüe alterée” makes us think the things around us are failing our sight, as in her case they are making themselves invisible to her eyes (making her think there is not enough light in the house), and do so in proportion to our altered vision failing in its duty to represent those things around us. Our vision, like hers, is failing. We project our own failing onto our surroundings, as boat passengers project their own movement onto the shore. Seneca draws a moral from Harpaste’s behavior: “Ce que nous rions en elle, je te prie croire qu’il advient à chacun de nous: nul ne connoit estre avare, nul convoiteux. Encore les aveugles demandent un guide, nous nous fourvoions de nous mesme” [What we laugh at in her, I pray you to believe happens to each one of us: no one knows that he is avaricious or covetous. The blind at least ask for a guide; we go astray of our own accord] (II: 25, 689a, DM 504; 522). While Seneca, as Montaigne paraphrases him, draws from Harpaste’s unawareness of her condition a lesson about our blindness to our moral shortcomings, the essayist uses Seneca’s words for his own pur- poses, making them echo what he writes in the other chapter. There, he says that most who are so sick they are going to die refuse to acknowledge that II. Book Two 171 fact; here, he quotes Seneca speaking of another group of people who don’t acknowledge how sick they are either: Et cela mesme que nous ne sentons pas estre malades nous rend la gueri- son plus malaisée. Si nous ne commençons de bonne heure à nous penser, quand aurons nous pourveu à tant de plaies & à tant de maus. Si avons nous une tres-douce medecine que la philosophie. [And the very fact that we do not realize that we are sick makes our cure more difficult. If we do not soon begin to tend ourselves, when will we have provided for so many sores and so many maladies? Yet we have a very sweet medicine in philosophy.] (II: 25, 689–90a, DM 504–5; 522) He means moral sickness, but the parallel with the physical sickness in the other chapter is striking, and surely intentional. All the more so for the fact that in both chapters the unawareness of the seriousness of one’s malady (bodily illness in II: 13, moral sickness in II: 25) is due to impaired vision: the “veüe alterée” that prevents those about to die from taking cognizance of that fact, and the way Seneca likens us to “les aveugles” (except that the latter know they need a guide, while we “nous nous fourvoions de nous mesme”). Montaigne follows his paraphrase of Seneca with these words: “Voila ce que dit Seneque, qui m’a emporté hors de mon propos: mais il y a du profit au change” [That is what Seneca says, which has carried me away from my subject, but there is profit in the change] (II: 25, 690a, DM 505; 522*). The profit is that both Seneca’s story of Harpaste and his commentary on it allow Montaigne to enhance this chapter’s connections to the other, even though it carries him away from the stated topic of the danger of pretending to be ill. Indeed, those of us to whom Seneca refers who do not realize how sick we are come close to counterfeiting health, which is just the opposite of counterfeit- ing illness—but is precisely what Montaigne accuses the terminally ill in II: 13 of doing. Consequently, when Montaigne gives a scientific explanation for the blindness that can result from keeping a patch over one’s eye for too long, his words may have a self-referential dimension: Il est possible que l’action de la veüe s’estoit hebetée, pour avoir été si long temps sans exercice & que la force vifve s’étoit toute rejetée en l’autre oeil. Car nous sentons evidemment que l’oeil que nous tenons couvert r’envoie à son compagnon quelque partie de son effect. 172 II. Book Two [It is possible that the power of sight had been weakened through having been so long without exercise, and that the visual power had wholly trans- ferred itself to the other eye. For we palpably feel that an eye which we keep covered up sends some part of its activity to its companion.] (II: 25, 688a, DM 502; 521*) In these paired chapters (as in all other paired chapters, but especially these because both focus on impaired vision) it seems that something is commu- nicated in a strange way between them, something like the “force vifve” that can pass from one eye to its symmetrical other. Put another way, we need to read the chapters stereoscopically, gazing at two chapters at once, an eye to each, and both properly aligned. As opposed to reading one at a time, as if we were one-eyed (“borgnes”), or to look in two unrelated directions at once, as if we were cross-eyed (“bicles”). 14. equivalent equivalents “Comme nostre esprit s’empesche soy mesmes” [How our mind hinders itself] (II: 14) and “De la grandeur romaine” [Of the greatness of Rome] (II: 24) Of II: 14 Balsamo et al. have this to say: This brief chapter . . . is no more than a note a few lines in length, a frag- ment of an argument on the limits of human knowledge and on the misery of the human condition, propped up by some mathematical paradoxes and a maxim of Pliny’s. Maybe it was a page written in preparation for the Apo- logie de Raimond de Sebond that Montaigne preserved, though not without modifying some details through successive editions (1629). Similarly, II: 24 is in their opinion simply a “brief note” (1667). Such are the conclusions to which the limitations of a one-eyed reading would condemn us. Fortunately, there is another way to look at these chapters—namely, to look at them together. “C’est une plaisante imagination de concevoir un esprit balancé juste- ment entre deux pareilles envyes” [It is an amusing conception to imagine a mind exactly balanced between two equal desires], Montaigne writes as he begins II: 14. II. Book Two 173 Car il est indubitable qu’il ne prendra jamais parti, d’autant que l’inclina- tion & le chois porte inequalité & qui nous logeroit entre la bouteille & le jambon avec pareille envie de boire & de menger, il n’y auroit sans doute remede que de mourir de soif & de faim. [For it is indubitable that it will never decide, since inclination and choice imply inequality in value; and if we were placed between the bottle and the ham with an equal appetite for drinking and for eating, there would doubtless be no solution but to die of thirst and of hunger.] (II: 14, 611a, DM 407–8; 462) In reading the previous chapter pair (II: 13 and II: 25) we saw Montaigne warn us of the danger of being one-eyed when we don’t have to be, and in a metafictional sense encourage us to read his chapters in twos, to look for how each is in a hidden way the other’s double. In the current pair (II: 14 and II: 24) we see him once more talking of two things that are alike, though more obviously so, and of focusing one’s attention simultaneously on both. But now the danger comes from focusing one’s attention on two things that are too much alike! Yet that danger is illusory, for there is no such thing as absolute equality: Pour pourvoir à cet inconvenient, les Stoiciens quand on leur demande d’où vient en nostre ame le chois de deux choses indifferentes, & que faict que d’un grand nombre d’escus nous en prenions plus tost l’un que l’autre estant tous pareilz & n’y ayant nulle raison qui nous pousse au chois. Ils repondent que ce mouvement de l’ame est extraordinaire & déreglé venant en nous d’une impulsion estrangiere, accidentale, & fortuite. Il se pourroit dire, ce me semble plustost, que nulle chose ne se presente à nous, où il n’y ait quelque difference, pour legiere qu’elle soit, & que ou à la veüe, ou à l’atouchement, il y a tousjours quelque chois, qui nous touche & attire, quoy que ce soit imperceptiblement. [To provide against this difficulty, the Stoics, when they are asked whence comes the choice in our soul between two indifferent things and what makes us take one rather than the other out of a large number of one-crown pieces when they are all alike and there is no reason which inclines us to a preference, answer that this movement of the soul is extraordinary and irregular, coming from an external, accidental and fortuitous impulse in us. It might rather be said, it seems to me, that nothing presents itself to us in 174 II. Book Two which there is not some difference, however slight; and that either to the sight or to the touch, there is always some choice that attracts us, though it be imperceptibly.] (II: 14, 611a, DM 408, 463*) As a parallel to this “grand nombre d’escus” of which each coin is the equiva- lent of every other, Montaigne in the corresponding chapter presents us with another large number of escus that likewise provide an instance of monetary equivalence, though in a different way: Il n’estoit pas nouveau à un simple cytoien Romain, comme estoit lors Cesar, de disposer des royaumes, car il osta bien au roy Dejotarus le sien pour le donner à un gentil’homme sien amy de la ville de Pergame nommé Mithri- dates. Et ceux qui escrivent sa vie enregistrent plusieurs autres royaumes par luy vendus : & Suetone dit qu’il tira pour un coup du roy Ptoloméus trois millions six cens mill’escus, qui fut bien pres de luy vendre le sien. [It was no novelty for a simple Roman citizen, as Caesar then was, to dis- pose of kingdoms, for indeed he deprived King Deiotarus of his to give it to a gentleman of the city of Pergamum, named Mithridates. And those who write his life record several other kingdoms sold by him; and Suetonius says that at one stroke he extracted from King Ptolemy three million six hundred thousand crowns, which was very close to selling him his kingdom.] (II: 24, 686a, DM 500; 520) As Villey points out, “Such exactions were almost equivalent to the sale of the kingdom” (686n). Caesar, that is, sold Ptolemy his kingdom back to him for this genuinely princely sum. This large sum of écus, like the one in the other chapter, is part of a monetary equivalence, but instead of each écu being the equivalent of every other as in II: 14, this time the whole sum is the equivalent of something else. Yet, in an elegant way, one sum of écus in one chapter is equivalent to the one in the other in that each is an instance of equivalence. Chapter II: 24 begins with another equivalence, another case of two things seeming at first remarkably similar: Au septiesme livre des épitres familieres de Cicero  .  .  .  il y en a une qui s’adresse à Caesar estant lors en la Gaule, en laquelle Cicero redit ces motz, qui estoient sur la fin d’un’autre lettre, que Caesar luy avoit escrit, Quant à Marcus Furius, que tu m’as recommandé, je le feray roy de Gaule: & si tu veux, que j’advance quelque autre de tes amis, envoie le moy. II. Book Two 175 [In the seventh book of Cicero’s Epistulae ad Familiares (Letters to His Friends),   .  .  .  there is one addressed to Caesar, who was then in Gaul, in which Cicero repeats these words, which were at the end of another letter that Caesar had written to him: “As for Marcus Furius, whom you have recommended to me, I will make him king of Gaul; and if you want me to advance some other friend of yours, send him to me.”] (II: 24, 686a, DM 499–500; 519) Now here, in an intriguing parallel to the hypothetical equality (of hunger and thirst) at the beginning of II: 14, are two absolutely equal things: the words that Caesar first wrote Cicero and their reappearance, word for word, in Cicero’s letter to him. Yet, as Montaigne had predicted in II: 14, no matter how compelling the similarity between two things, there will always be some difference, “pour legiere qu’elle soit” [however slight], for Caesar’s words, when restated by Cicero, convey something rather different from what they first meant. Originally an offer, they are now a claim on that offer, Cicero’s request that Caesar perform what he promised. This instance of two corre- spondents writing the same words for different reasons parallels what keeps happening in the Essays, that the same words turn up in corresponding chap- ters, as in the case we have just seen of a great sum of écus exemplifying a monetary equivalence in both II: 14 and II: 24. In a post-1588 addition to II: 24 Montaigne set up another correspond- ing echo, providing a reply to what he had already written in II: 14 con- cerning geometrical propositions that contradict common sense, in particular those “qui concluent par la certitude de leurs demonstrations, le contenu plus grand que le contenant, le centre aussi grand que sa circonference” [which conclude by the certainty of their demonstrations that the thing contained is greater than the container, the center as great as the circumference] (II: 14, 611a, DM 409; 463). In the addition to II: 24 he would tell the story of how C. Popilius came to demand of Antiochus, who ruled over Egypt, that he submit to the Roman Empire. “Popilius circonscrit la place où il estoit, à tout sa baguette, en luy disant: Ren moy responce que je puisse rapporter au senat, avant que tu partes de ce cercle” [Popilius circumscribed the place where he was with his stick, and said: “Give me an answer that I can take back to the Senate before you move out of this circle”] (II: 24, 687c; 520*). Antiochus complied, providing yet another example of a conquered monarch that the Romans left “en la possession de leurs royaumes sous leur authorité : à ce qu’ils eussent des roys mesmes, utilz de la servitude” [in possession of their kingdoms, under their authority, so that they might have even kings as instruments of slavery] (II: 24, 687a, DM 500–501; 520). While the center 176 II. Book Two of the circle in II: 14 may be as great as its circumference, such is not the case with the one in II: 24, whose circumference is clearly greater than what was inside it, so much so that the line itself of that drawn circumference was enough to prevent Antiochus from stepping out of it. And yet when he con- sented to become, as other conquered kings had done, Rome’s instrument by slavishly serving Rome in continuing to reign over Egypt he became an example of one of those other seemingly impossible geometrical propositions, that of the contained being greater than its container. For such vanquished but rethroned kings became the vessel of a power greater than their own, parodies of containers lesser than their content. 15. Civil war vs. Civil war “Que nostre desir s’accroit par la malaisance” [That our desire is increased by difficulty] (II: 15) and “Des mauvais moyens employez à bonne fin” [Of evil means employed to a good end] (II: 23) Montaigne begins II: 15 by remarking that “Il n’y a nulle raison qui n’en aye une contraire” [There is no reason that does not have its opposite] (II: 15, 612a, DM 409; 463). To provide an example of this, he first cites the ancient saying “Nul bien ne nous peut apporter plaisir, si ce n’est celuy, à la perte duquel nous sommes preparez” [No good can bring us pleasure, unless it is one for whose loss we are prepared], and then contradicts it by observing that “Il se pourroit toutes-fois dire au rebours, que nous serrons & embrassons ce bien d’autant plus ferme, & avecques plus d’affection que nous le voyons nous estre moins seur, & que nous le craignons nous estre osté” [Yet it could be said, on the contrary, that we clutch and embrace this good all the more tightly and with more affection because we see that it is less secure and fear that it may be taken from us] (II: 15, 612a, DM 410; 463*). For our will is sharpened by opposition, as fire is by cold, and there is nothing so distasteful as the satiety that comes from desires too easily met. “Nous defendre quelque chose c’est nous en donner envie: nous l’abandonner tout à faict c’est nous en engendrer mespris : la faute & l’abondance tombent en mesme inconvenient” [To forbid us something is to make us want it. To give it up to us completely is to breed in us contempt for it. Want and abundance fall into the same dis- comfort] (II: 15, 613–14a, DM 412; 465). In II: 23 as well, though in a quite different context, abundance can pose problems. Doctors “disent que la perfection de santé trop allegre & vigoreuse, II. Book Two 177 il nous la faut essimer & rabatre par art  .  .  .  : ils ordonnent pour cela aux Athletes les purgations & les saignées, pour leur soubstraire céte superabon- dance de santé” [say that too blithe and vigorous a perfection of health must be artificially reduced and abated for us. . . . Therefore they order purges and bleedings for athletes to draw off this superabundance of health] (II: 23, 682a, DM 494 ; 517*). In II: 15, to have something good in abundance is as bad as not to have it at all; in II: 23, to have something good in abundance (or superabundance) is as bad as to have an abundance of its opposite. Either way, one can have too much of a good thing. To illustrate his assertion that we value more what we are at risk of losing, he notes that “Pour tenir l’amour en haleine” [To keep love in trim] (II: 15, 612a, DM 410, 464*) Lycurgus ordered that married couples in Sparta have sexual relations only in secret, and that it would be as shameful for them to be found together as to be found in bed with someone else. The purpose of this edict is that the added challenge would spice up their love life. Montaigne uses the same turn of phrase in II: 23 with regard to a similar situation but a quite different context. The Romans fostered wars with some of their enemies “pour tenir leurs hommes en haleine, de peur que l’oysiveté mere de corruption ne leur apportat quelque pire inconvenient” [to keep their men in trim, for fear that idleness, mother of corruption, might bring them some worse mischief ] (II: 23, 683a, DM 495; 517*). Like Lycurgus, the Romans found that an added, indeed a seemingly unnecessary, challenge had its uses. In 1582 (unusually for that edition) Montaigne made a substantial addition to II: 15 that includes the following passage, in which he clearly intended to set up additional parallels with the lines from II: 23 I have just quoted: C’est un effect de la Providence divine de permettre sa saincte Eglise estre agitée, comme nous la voyons, de tant de troubles et d’orages, pour esveil- ler par ce contraste les ames pies, et les r’avoir de l’oysiveté et du sommeil où les avoit plongez une si longue tranquillité. Si nous contrepoisons la perte que nous avons faicte par le nombre de ceux qui se sont desvoyez, au gain qui nous vient pour nous estre remis en haleine, resuscité nostre zele et nos forces à l’occasion de ce combat, je ne sçay si l’utilité ne surmonte point le dommage. [It is an act of God’s Providence to allow his Holy Church to be, as we can see she now is, shaken by so many disturbances and tempests, in order by this opposition to awaken the souls of the pious and to bring them back from the idleness and torpor in which so long a period of calm had 178 II. Book Two immersed them. If we weigh the loss we have suffered by the numbers of those who have been led into error against the gain which accrues to us from our having been brought back into fighting trim, with our zeal and our strength restored to new life for the battle, I am not sure whether the ben- efit does not outweigh the loss.] (II: 15, 615a’; 466*) Montaigne here not only reiterates the expression “en haleine” [in fighting trim] but also opposes it to “l’oysiveté” as he had done in II: 23 when he wrote “pour tenir leurs hommes en haleine, de peur que l’oysiveté . . . ne leur apportat quelque pire inconvenient” [to keep their men in trim, for fear that idleness  .  .  .  might bring them some worse mischief ]. The 1582 insertion adds as well the idea that a civil war (for that is what the religious troubles to which he alludes in fact were) is good for the church––as in II: 23 it is good for the state. Astonishing as this apology for civil war may be, he makes another one on different grounds in II: 23, finding it less unjust in God’s eyes to wage war against one’s fellow citizens than against an innocent foreign country, and he explicitly refers to the religious civil war to which he would allude in that 1582 insertion to II: 15: Il y en a plusieurs en ce temps . . . souhaitans que cette emotion chalereuse, qui est parmy nous se peut deriver à quelque guerre voisine, de peur que ces humeurs peccantes, qui dominent pour céte heure nostre corps, si on ne les escoulle ailleurs, maintiennent nostre fiebvre tousjours en force, & apportent en fin nostre entiere ruine. Et de vray une guerre estrangiere est un mal bien plus doux que la civile. Mais je ne croy pas que Dieu favorisat une si injuste entreprise, d’offencer & quereler autruy pour nostre commo- dité. Toutes-fois la foiblesse de nostre condition nous pousse souvent à céte necessité de nous servir de mauvais moiens pour une bonne fin. [There are many at the present hour  .  .  .  wishing that this heated passion that is among us might be deflected into some war with our neighbors, for fear that these peccant humors which dominate our body at the moment, if they are not drained off elsewhere, may keep our fever still at its height and in the end bring on our total ruin. And indeed a foreign war is a much milder evil than a civil war. But I do not believe that God would favor so unjust an enterprise as to injure and pick a quarrel with others for our own convenience.] (II: 23, 683a, DM 496–97; 517–18*) It is remarkable that Montaigne should be in such apparent contradiction with himself as to say in II: 15 that the French religious civil wars were useful II. Book Two 179 (producing greater “utilité” than “dommage”) but in II: 23 that they may bring the country to total ruin. It is especially so where there is such irrefut- able evidence that he was quite aware when writing—and rewriting—one chapter of what he was writing or had written in the other. The intensifi- cation of the echoing instances of “en haleine” (already present in 1580, intensified in 1582) testifies to that awareness. While it is true that the appar- ent contradiction may be resolved by pointing out that the church and the nation are not the same and that what may be good for one may not be good for the other, the important thing from our perspective is that here again we have proof that Montaigne wants us to read his chapters in pairs, and that these two, in talking about civil wars but coming to opposite conclusions, seem to be fighting their own civil war. 16. spreading the news “De la gloire” [Of glory] (II: 16) and “Des postes” [Of couriers23] (II: 22) La gloire, in Montaigne’s estimation, is essentially news.24 Like the noise made by the proverbial tree falling in the forest with no one to hear, its existence is 23. This seems to me a more accurate translation than Frame’s “Of riding post” or Screech’s “On riding ‘in post.’” John Florio in his 1611 translation of the Essais (available at www.luminarium.org/ renascence-editions/montaigne/ ) renders it as “Of Running Posts, or Couriers,” reflecting the emphasis the chapter places on messengers, which is at least equal to (if not greater than) that placed on riding. In fact the only reference to riding itself apart from the riding that couriers perform is the new opening sentence added in 1588: “Je n’ay pas esté des plus foibles en cet exercice, qui est propre à gens de ma taille, ferme et courte; mais j’en quitte le mestier : il nous essaye trop pour y durer long temps” [I have been not of the weakest in this exercise, which is suited to men of my build, solid and short. But I give up the business; it is too trying to keep it up for long] (II: 22, 680b; 515). That he added this sentence at the beginning of the chapter instead of later may have led some to think that the chapter was going to be about horseback riding instead of the long-distance transmission of messages. But as Marianne S. Meijer suggests (on pp. 113–14 of “‘Des postes’ et ‘Des pouces’: Plaisanteries ou points de repère?,” in Columbia Montaigne Conference Papers, ed. Donald M. Frame and Mary B. McKinley [Lexington, KY: French Forum Publishers, 1981: 105–18]), he may have been alluding in this new first sentence to the sexual sense of “postes,” evident in “Sur des vers de Virgile” when a man suspected of impotence claimed to have made “vingt postes la nuict precedente” [love twenty times the night before] (III: 5, 867b; 659*) with his new bride. Cotgrave in his 1611 dictionary gives two separate entries for postes, of which the first is “A poste, currier, speedie messenger” and the second is “Post, posting, the riding post.” They are two different words, the first a masculine noun, the second a feminine. Montaigne, especially after 1588, may be playing on all three senses, but in any edition what is discussed in the chapter is for the most part message transmission, not all of which is done on horseback. There are also swallows, pigeons, and men carrying other men. 24. Gloire, defined by Littré (Émile Littré, Dictionnaire de la langue française [Paris: 1877], avail- able at http://francois.gannaz.free.fr/Littre/accueil.php), is “Célébrité grande et honorable” [great and honorable celebrity]; by Cotgrave, “Glorie, fame, reputation, renowne.” 180 II. Book Two dependent on its being perceived, and (to employ what will prove, ultimately, a more relevant simile) like a letter consigned to the postal system, it does not always reach its destination: Ceux qui apprenent à nos gens de guerre . . . de ne cercher en la vaillance que la reputation, que gaignent ilz par là, que de les instruire de ne se hazar- der jamais, qu’ilz ne soient à la veüe de leurs compagnons, & de prendre bien garde s’il y a des tesmoins avec eux, qui puissent raporter nouvelles de leur vaillance? là où il se presente mille occasions de bien faire sans qu’on puisse estre remarqué. Combien de belles actions particulieres s’enseve- lissent dans la foule d’une bataille? [Those who teach our men of war . . . to seek in valor only reputation, what do they gain thereby but to instruct them never to hazard themselves unless they be within sight of their companions, and to take good care that there are witnesses with them who can bring back news of their valor? Whereas a thousand occasions of well-doing present themselves without one’s being able to be noticed for it. How many fine individual actions are buried in the press of a battle!] (II: 16, 622a, DM 420; 471*; 605a) “Des postes” (II: 22) is about sending and receiving news: Je lisois à cet’heure, que le Roy Cyrus pour recevoir plus facilement nouvelles de tous les cotez de son empire, qui estoit d’une fort grande estandue fit regarder combien un cheval pouvoit faire de chemin en un jour tout d’une traite, & à céte distance il establit des hommes, qui avoient charge de tenir des chevaux prets pour en fournir à ceux qui viendroient vers luy. [I was just this moment reading that King Cyrus, the more easily to receive news from all parts of his empire, which was of very great extent, ascer- tained how much distance a horse could do at a stretch in one day; and at that distance he stationed men whose business it was to keep horses ready to equip those who should be coming toward him.] (II: 22, 680a, DM 492–93; 515–16) In 1588, Montaigne added another way of sending the news to the cata- log this brief chapter provides: L’invention de Cecinna à renvoyer des nouvelles à ceux de sa maison avoit bien plus de promptitude: il emporta quand et soy des arondelles, et les II. Book Two 181 relaschoit vers leurs nids quand il vouloit r’envoyer de ses nouvelles, en les teignant de marque de couleur propre à signifier ce qu’il vouloit, selon qu’il avoit concerté avec les siens. Au theatre, à Romme, les maistres de famille avoient des pigeons dans leur sein, ausquels ils attacheoyent des lettres quand ils vouloient mander quelque chose à leurs gens au logis; et estoient dressez à en raporter responce. [Cecinna’s invention for sending back news to his household was much swifter; he took swallows along with him, and released them toward their nests when he wanted to send back news of himself, tinting them with some mark of color to signify his meaning, according as he had pre-arranged with his people. At the theatre in Rome the heads of families kept pigeons in their bosoms, to which they attached letters when they wanted to send instructions to their people at home; and these were trained to bring back an answer.] (II: 22, 680–81b; 516*) I have italicized invention, lettres, and marque because that constellation of words also appears in the following passage from II: 16. Montaigne is scan- dalized, or at least amused, by the contradiction between Epicurus’ preach- ing against seeking personal glory and what he actually said on his deathbed. His last words “sont grandes & dignes d’un tel philosophe, mais si ont elles quelque marque de la recommendation de son nom, et de cette humeur qu’il avoit décriée par ses preceptes. Voicy une lettre qu’il dicta un peu avant son dernier soupir” [are great and worthy of such a philosopher, and yet they bear the mark of commending his name and of that humor that in his pre- cepts he had decried. Here is a letter that he dictated a little before his last gasp] (II: 16, 620ac; 469). In the letter Epicurus complains about the pain of his illness but says that it is compensated “par le plaisir qu’apportoit à mon ame la souvenance de mes inventions et de mes discours” [by the pleasure which the remembrance of my discoveries and my teachings brought to my soul] (II: 16, 620a; 469). Montaigne returns to this mention of inventions in a comment on the letter: “Voilà sa lettre. Et ce qui me faict interpreter que ce plaisir qu’il dit sentir en son ame, de ses inventions, regarde aucunement la reputation qu’il en esperoit acquerir apres sa mort, c’est l’ordonnance de son testament” [That is his letter. And what makes me infer that this pleasure, which he says he feels in his soul over his discoveries, somewhat concerns the reputation that he hoped to acquire from them after his death, is the provi- sion in his will] (II: 16, 620a; 469) by which he sets aside money for the annual celebration of his birthday, as well as a monthly celebration partly in his honor. 182 II. Book Two So here we have a lettre whose author takes pleasure in his inventions, a statement that Montaigne sees as the marque that negates what the writer says elsewhere, while in the companion chapter we are told of an invention for conveying lettres in which the entire text consists of a marque. The marque in II: 22 is all there is to read; the one in II: 16 is a hidden message that only Montaigne, “suffisant lecteur” par excellence, can interpret. But in writing all this (the passages in both II: 16 and II: 22 with this repeating trio of words), Montaigne constructed a hidden text for another sufficient reader to interpret. Though he took his time about it: the passage in II: 22 didn’t appear until 1588; the telltale marque in II: 16 that tops it off didn’t appear until he crossed out “goust” [taste] (DM 417) and replaced it with marque in the margin of the Bordeaux Copy at some point after 1588. As we have seen in other instances, here too Montaigne gradually perfected his metafictional echoes over the course of successive editions. Marque(s) appears 58 times in the Essays, lettre(s) 91 times, and invention(s) 91, but the three appear together only twice, in II: 16 and II: 22. Odds are that could not have happened by chance. 17. spitting images “De la praesumption” [Of presumption] (II: 17) and “Contre la faineantise” [Against do-nothingness] (II: 21) As the title of II: 21 would suggest, Montaigne is against la fainéantise—but only sometimes. For in this chapter’s other half he is for it; he positively rev- els in it: J’ay une ame libre & toute sienne, accoustumée à se conduire à sa poste. Je n’ay eu jusques à cet’heure ny commandant ny maistre forcé. J’ay marché aussi avant & le pas qu’il m’a pleu. Cela m’a amolli & rendu inutile au ser- vice d’autruy: & ne m’a faict bon qu’à moy, estant d’ailleurs d’un naturel poisant, paresseus & fay-neant: car m’estant trouvé en tel degré de fortune des ma naissance, que j’ay eu occasion de m’y arrester je n’ay rien cerché & n’ay aussi rien pris. [I have a soul all its own, accustomed to conducting itself in its own way. Having had neither governor nor master forced on me to this day, I have gone just so far as I pleased, and at my own pace. This has made me soft and useless for serving others, and no good to anyone but myself, being II. Book Two 183 besides of a heavy, lazy, and do-nothing nature. For having found myself from birth in such a degree of fortune that I had reason to remain as I was, and having as much sense as I felt I had occasion for, I have sought nothing, and have also acquired nothing.] (II: 17, 643a, DM 449; 481*) By remarkable coincidence this paradoxical quality—a character flaw in II: 21, but a virtue in II: 17—appears nowhere else in Book Two. But the paradox is resolvable. For Montaigne personally, having this quality is good because it denotes his independent spirit, his refusal to serve another. The faineantise he opposes in II: 21 is that of monarchs who do not take an active role in governing their kingdom or in leading their armies on the battle- field. The “commandement de tant d’hommes, n’est pas une charge oisive, & qu’il n’est rien qui puisse si justement dégouster un subject de se mettre en peine & en hazard pour le service de son prince, que de le voir apoltronny ce pendant luy mesme à des occupations lasches & vaines” [commanding so many men is not an idle charge, and there is nothing that can so justly spoil a subject’s taste for putting himself at pains and in danger for the service of his prince as to see the prince himself meanwhile loafing about at paltry and frivolous occupations] (II: 21, 676a, DM 491; 512*). So it is not exactly a contradiction for him to speak approvingly of that quality in himself since he is not a king. But it is nevertheless true that Montaigne carefully planted these only two instances in Book Two in symmetrically matching chapters and that he presented their combination for the assiduous reader who would eventually discover it as an apparent opposition. One of the monarchs Montaigne singles out for praise for not being a fainéant, for not engaging in “des occupations lasches & vaines” to the detri- ment of the state and the army, is Julian the Apostate. L’empereur Julian disoit  .  .  .  qu’un philosophe & un galant homme ne devoient pas seulement respirer, c’est à dire ne donner aus necessitez corpo- relles que ce qu’on ne leur peut refuser, tenant tousjours l’ame & le corps embesoignés à choses belles, grandes & vertueuses. Il avoit honte si en public on le voyoit cracher ou suer . . . par ce qu’il estimoit que l’exercice, le travail continuel et la sobriété devoient avoir cuit et asseché toutes ces superfluitez. [The Emperor Julian used to say . . . that a philosopher and a gallant man ought not even to breathe; that is to say, they should grant to bodily neces- sities only what cannot be refused them, ever keeping the soul and body busied in fair, great, and virtuous things. He was ashamed if he was seen to spit or sweat in public  .  .  .  because he considered that exercise, continual 184 II. Book Two toil, and sobriety should have cooked and dried up all those superfluities.] (II: 21, 677a, DM 491–92; 513) This echoes in a surprising way what he has to say in the other chapter about the Greek general Philopoemen—surprising because Philopoemen’s pathetic predicament forms such a contrast to Julian’s grandeur. When he arrived before the rest of his company at a house where he was expected, his hostess, not realizing who he was, put him to work at menial tasks for the arrival of the distinguished guest. When his retinue got there, discovering him “embe- songné à céte belle vacation” [busy at this beautiful occupation] (II: 17, 641a, DM 446; 486*), asked him why, he replied that he was paying the penalty for his ugliness. Nowhere else does embesogner appear with à + belles. Not only do the symmetrically placed appearances of these words constitute a striking paral- lel, but the two situations are just as parallel, if also the opposite. In both cases, the dignity of an exalted personage—a general, an emperor—is under attack. The general does not stand on his dignity; the emperor does. The general is not ashamed to perform trivial though necessary tasks, nor to do them before his subordinates; the emperor “avoit honte” [was ashamed] to be seen by the public fulfilling trivial needs. The tasks Philopoemen per- formed were actually for himself, “pour le service de Philopoemen,” although the woman who ordered him to do them did not realize it. So too were the things Julian was reluctant to do: to sweat and to spit. Montaigne was being ironic when he wrote that Philopoemen’s officers were surprised at seeing him “embesongné à céte belle vacation”; now we realize that he was being even more ironic than that in applying the same words to him that he would apply to Julian. These words in the Julian anecdote, by contrast, have no immediate ironic charge, since presumably the fine and beautiful things a philosopher and a gallant man do are indeed so. But they certainly acquire one in retrospect. The rest of the passage on Julian— Il avoit honte si en public on le voyoit cracher ou suer . . . par ce qu’il esti- moit que l’exercice, le travail continuel et la sobriété devoient avoir cuit et asseché toutes ces superfluitez. [He was ashamed if he was seen to spit or sweat in public . . . because he con- sidered that exercise, continual toil, and sobriety should have cooked and dried up all those superfluities.] (II: 21, 677a, DM 492; 513) II. Book Two 185 —forms a parallel of its own to still another passage in “De la praesump- tion,” about another Roman emperor (in fact, Julian’s immediate predeces- sor). Montaigne writes of la morgue de Constantius l’Empereur, qui en publicq tenoit tousjours la teste droite, sans la contourner ou flechir ni ça ny là, non pas seulement pour regarder ceux, qui le saluoient à costé, ayant le corps planté & immo- bile, sans se laisser aller au branle de son coche, sans oser ny cracher, ny se moucher, ny essuyer le visage devant les gens. [the arrogance of the Emperor Constantius, who in public always held his head straight, without turning or bending it this way or that, not even to look at those who saluted him from the side; keeping his body fixed and motionless, without letting himself move with the swaying of his coach, without daring either to spit, or to blow his nose, or to wipe his face in front of the people.] (II: 17, 633a, DM 435; 480) The infinitive cracher makes only these two appearances in Book Two. More significantly, while there is spitting going on elsewhere in the Essays (includ- ing Book Two), in no other passage does it occur together with sweating. More significantly still, in Ammianus Marcellinus’ account of Constantius, Montaigne’s source for this account, there is no mention of the emperor’s not wiping off his face to remove the sweat: “quod autem nec os tersisse umquam vel nares in publico, nec spuisse, nec transtulisse in partem alte- rutram vultum aliquando est visus, nec pomorum quoad vixerat gustaverit, ut dicta saepius praetermitto” [That no one ever saw him wipe his mouth or nose in public, nor spit, nor turn his face to this side or that, or that so long as he lived he never tasted fruit, I leave unmentioned, since it has often been related].25 So Montaigne added this detail to complete the parallel with Julian. But again it is a parallel based on an opposition. The very behavior he praises in Julian he criticizes in Constantius. Julian dared not spit or sweat in public because of his lofty ideal of how a philosopher and a gallant man should devote his energies, but Constantius dared not spit or sweat in public out of a defect of character: his arrogance (“morgue”). Constantius’s behav- ior was one of several “mouvemens . . . artificiels” [artificial gestures] (II: 17, 633a, DM 434–35; 479*) and “contenances desreglées” [extraordinary man- nerisms] (II: 17, 633b; 480) to which Montaigne objects. 25. Ammianus Marcellinus, The History, tr. John C. Rolfe (Cambridge: Harvard University Press / Loeb Classical Library, 1937), vol. 2, 176–77 (xxi, 16, 7). 186 II. Book Two When Montaigne inserted the post-1588 anecdote of Muley Moloch, king of Fez, into “Contre la faineantise” he gave us the second half of yet another intratext to ponder. Moloch was a monarch who died with his boots on, a fine example of a king who was not a fainéant. Sebastian, the young king of Portugal, had invaded Morocco; in response, Moloch arose from his deathbed to command his forces. Il dressa sa bataille en rond, assiegeant de toutes pars l’ost des Portugais: lequel rond, venant à se courber et serrer, les empescha non seulement au conflict, qui fut tres aspre par la valeur de ce jeune Roy assaillant, veu qu’ils avoient à montrer visage à tous sens, mais aussi les empescha à la fuitte apres leur routte. [He drew up his army in a circle, besieging the camp of the Portuguese from all sides, and this circle, coming to bend and tighten, not only hin- dered them in the fighting, which was very bitter because of the valor of the young invading king, seeing that they had to face in all directions, but also hindered their flight after their rout.] (II: 21, 678c; 515) In “De la praesumption” Montaigne writes that of men he has known “le plus grand . . . des parties natureles de l’ame & le mieux né c’estoit Estienne de la Boitie: c’étoit vrayement un’ame pleine, & qui monstroit un beau visage à tout sens” [the greatest one . . . for natural qualities of the soul, and the best endowed, was Etienne de La Boétie. He was truly a full soul, and displayed a handsome face in every sense] (II: 17, 659a, DM 470; 500*). This repeat- ing sequence of words—montrer / monstroit visage à tout / tous sens—makes its only appearances here. The contexts and indeed the meanings of these words could hardly be more different, yet by now it should be apparent that such a repetition, especially in structurally related chapters, is likely to be meaningful. The young man in the middle of Moloch’s encircling army finds a counterpart in another young man in the middle, Etienne de La Boétie, occupying the middle chapter of Book One and surrounded by Montaigne’s “grotesques et corps monstrueux.” Curiously, Montaigne’s assertion in II: 17 that La Boétie displayed a handsome face in every sense is contradicted by what he will write in a post-1588 addition to chapter 12 of Book Three, where he will say that his young friend’s face was actually ugly: Mais nous appellons laideur aussi une mesavenance au premier regard, qui loge principallement au visage, et souvent nous desgoute par bien legeres causes: du teint, d’une tache, d’une rude contenance, de quelque cause inex- II. Book Two 187 plicable sur des membres bien ordonnez et entiers. La laideur qui revestoit une ame tres-belle en La Boitie estoit de ce predicament. [But we also call ugliness an unattractiveness at first glance, which resides chiefly in the face, and often arouses our distaste for very slight causes: the complexion, a spot, a rough countenance, or some inexplicable cause, when the limbs are well ordered and whole. The ugliness which clothed a very beautiful soul in La Boétie was of this predicament.] (III: 12, 1057c; 807–8*) If what Montaigne says in III: 12 is accurate, then as he did with Constan- tius—adding sweating to the list of what Ammianus Marcellinus said he was unwilling to do in public so that he could set up a better parallel with Julian in the matching chapter—he does with La Boétie as well, tweaking the truth to plant a parallel. And, as we approach the middle of Book Two, to allude to the middle of Book One and its surrounding chapters. For Book Two has the same structure, with Julian the Apostate occupying the corresponding place of honor. 18. Consubstantial Consubstantiality “Du démentir” [Of giving the lie] (II: 18) and “Nous ne gous- tons rien de pur” [We taste nothing pure] (II: 20) Lying is so pervasive, Montaigne complains in “Du démentir,” that “Nostre verité d’à cette heure ce n’est pas ce qui est, mais ce qui se persuade à autruy: comme nous appellons monnoye non celle qui est loyalle seulement, mais la fauce aussi, qui a mise” [Our truth of nowadays is not what is, but what oth- ers can be convinced of; just as we call money not only that which is legal, but also the false that has currency] (II: 18, 666a, DM 477; 505*). Our pub- lic discourse, like the money supply, is impure. Nothing we taste, to borrow from the title of the companion chapter II: 20, whether it be what passes for truth or what passes for legal tender, is pure. As he says in the first sentence of II: 20, La foiblesse de nostre condition faict que les choses en leur simplicité & pureté naturelle ne puissent pas tomber en nostre usage. Les elemens que nous joyssons, sont alterés, & les metaus de mesme, & l’or il le faut empi- rer par quelque autre matiere plus vile, pour l’accommoder à nostre service. 188 II. Book Two [The weakness of our condition is such that we cannot make use of things in their simplicity and natural purity. The elements that we enjoy are altered, and the metals likewise; and gold must be debased by some other, more vile material to accommodate it to our service.] (II: 20, 673a, DM 491; 510*) One of the chief instances of the service to which gold is put of course is money, so that both chapters allude to the impurity of money but do so in different ways. In II: 18, the impurity results from the combination of the purity of some coins (the legal) versus the impurity of others (the counter- feit); in II: 20, the impurity is inherent in any legal coin, which of necessity (gold, for example, being too soft a metal to stand up alone to the normal wear-and-tear coins must undergo) is made up of both pure metal (e.g., gold) and some baser material. When Montaigne says in II: 20 that gold must be debased to accommo- date it to our service, he is echoing what he says in II: 18 about writing the Essays for a private audience only—a neighbor, a kinsman, a friend. His only “commerce” [contact] with the public is that he has been constrained to bor- row the tools of their writing (that is, printing), and he has cast this image into a mold to save himself the trouble of making several copies by hand. “En recompense de céte commodité, que j’en ay emprunté, j’espere luy faire ce service d’empecher Ne toga cordyllis, ne penula desit olivis” [In return for this convenience which I have borrowed from the public I hope to provide it the service of preventing “tuna fish and olives from lacking something to wrap them in”] (II: 18, 664a, DM 476–77; 504*). Montaigne replaced much of this passage after 1588, including the sentence with “commodité” and “service.” But in a section he introduced after 1588 just after this point, he added a passage that sets up a connection to the following passage in “Nous ne goustons rien de pur” that dates from 1588: Des plaisirs et biens que nous avons, il n’en est aucun exempt de quelque meslange de mal et d’incommodité. . . . Nostre extreme volupté a quelque air de gemissement et de plainte. Diriez vous pas qu’elle se meurt d’angoisse? Voire quand nous en forgeons l’image en son excellence, nous la fardons d’epithetes et qualitez maladifves et douloureuses: langueur, mollesse, foi- blesse, defaillance, morbidezza; grand tesmoignage de leur consanguinité et consubstantialité. [Of the pleasures and good things that we have, there is not one exempt from some mixture of pain and discomfort. . . . Our utmost sensual plea- sure has an air of groaning and lament about it. Wouldn’t you say that it is II. Book Two 189 dying of anguish? Indeed, when we forge a picture of it at its highest point, we deck it with sickly and painful epithets and qualities: languor, softness, weakness, faintness, “morbidezza”: a great testimony to their consanguinity and consubstantiality.] (II: 20, 673b; 508*) Pain and pleasure, particularly in sex, are consubstantial. So too, according to what Montaigne added to “Du démentir” after 1588, are he and his book: “Je n’ay pas plus faict mon livre que mon livre m’a faict, livre consubstantiel à son autheur” [I have not made my book any more than it has made me—a book consubstantial with its author] (II: 18, 665c; 504*). There is no consubstan- tality anywhere else in Book Two. In adding this passage to II: 18 Montaigne made an important statement about the Essays that is justly famous. But at the same time he added yet another connection to the consubstantiality of the Essays themselves: the way each chapter has another with which it is con- substantial. In a marvelous instance of metafictional self-referentiality, here consubstantiality names itself. 190 1. distant Harmonies “De l’utile et de l’honneste” [Of the useful and the honorable] (III: 1) and “De l’experience” [Of experience] (III: 13) It is to be expected that in “De l’utile et de l’honneste” Montaigne should talk about the useful and the honorable: “Je suy le langage commun, qui faict difference, entre les choses utiles, & les honnestes: si que d’aucunes actions naturelles, non seulement utiles, mais necessaires, il les nomme deshonnestes & sales” [I follow the common language, which distinguishes between things useful and honorable, so that it calls dishonorable and foul some natural actions that are not only useful but necessary] (III: 1, 796b, DM 347v; 604). But it is a little surprising that he should also bring up those two topics in “De l’experience”: Tout cecy me faict souvenir de ces anciennes opinions, qu’il est forcé de faire tort en detail, qui veut faire droict en gros, & injustice en petites choses, qui veut venir à chef de faire justice és grandes: que l’humaine jus- tice est formée au patron de la medecine, selon laquelle, tout ce qui est utile est aussi juste & honneste. i i i BOOk tHree III. Book Three 191 [All this reminds me of these ancient opinions: that a man is forced to do wrong in detail if he wants to do right in gross, and injustice in little things if he wants to achieve justice in great ones; that human justice is formed on the model of medicine, according to which all that is useful is also just and honorable.] (III: 13, 1071b, DM 473v; 820*) Within Book Three those two terms appear together only in these two chap- ters. “De l’utile et de l’honneste” is in large measure about the administra- tion of justice, while in “De l’experience” the essayist writes at length about his experience with medicine and disease. In both domains, medicine and justice, he raises the question of combating evil with evil: “Je n’ayme point à guarir le mal par le mal” [I do not like curing one ill by another] (III: 13, 1086b, DM 481v; 832*), he declares in “De l’experience”; “La perfidie peut estre en quelque cas excusable” [Perfidy may in a given case be excusable], he asserts in the matching chapter, “lors seulement elle l’est, qu’elle s’employe à punir et trahir la perfidie” [it is so only when it is employed to punish and betray perfidy] (III: 1, 797c; 605). But evil, as he points out elsewhere III: 13, is unavoidable, even neces- sary—and in fact natural. Nostre vie est composée, comme l’armonie du monde de choses contraires, aussi de divers tons, douz & aspres, aigus & plats, mols & graves. Le musi- cien qui n’en aymeroit que les uns, que voudroit il dire? Il faut qu’il s’en sçache servir en commun, & les mesler, & nous, aussi les biens & les maux, qui sont consubstantiels à nostre vie. Nostre estre ne peut sans ce meslange, & y est l’une bande non moins necessaire que l’autre. D’essayer à regim- ber contre la necessité naturelle, c’est representer la folie de Ctesiphon, qui entreprenoit de faire à coups de pied contre sa mule. [Our life is composed, like the harmony of the world, of contrary things, also of different tones, sweet and harsh, sharp and flat, soft and loud. If a musician liked only one kind, what would he have to say? He must know how to use them together and blend them. And so must we do with good and evil, which are consubstantial with our life. Our existence is impossible without this mixture, and one element is no less necessary for it than the other. To try to kick against natural necessity is to imitate the folly of Cte- siphon, who undertook a kicking match with his mule.] (III: 13, 1089–90b, DM 483v; 835) 192 III. Book Three What he means in III: 1 by the utile was the politically useful in a Machiavel- lian sense, treachery and illegality in the interest of a larger good. Tiberius, for example, refused to have Arminius assassinated, declaring that the Roman people were not accustomed to fight their enemies by fraud, prompting the essayist to remark that the emperor “quitta l’utile pour l’honneste” [gave up the useful for the honorable] (III: 1, 790b, DM 344r; 599). The good and evil of which he writes in the passage from III: 13 just quoted have a descrip- tive terminology in common with the honorable and the useful he discusses in III: 1. Montaigne writes in the passage I first quoted from III: 1 of dis- honorable measures that are “actions naturelles, non seulement utiles, mais necessaires” [natural actions that are not only useful but necessary] (III: 1, 796b, DM 347v; 604)—as good and evil in III: 13 are each “non moins necessaire que l’autre” [no less necessary than the other] and part of “la necessité naturelle” [natural necessity] (III: 13, 1090b, DM 483v; 835). Two other parallel passages address the same issue. Near the end of “De l’experience” Montaigne writes: Est-ce pas erreur, d’estimer aucunes actions moins dignes, de ce qu’elles sont necessaires? Si ne m’osteront-ils pas de la teste, que ce ne soit un tres- convenable mariage du plaisir avec la necessité. A quoy faire desmembrons nous en divorce, un bastiment tissu, d’une si joincte & fraternelle corres- pondance. . . . Il n’y a piece indigne de nostre soin, en ce present que Dieu nous a faict. [Is it not an error to consider some actions less worthy because they are necessary? No, they will not knock it out of my head that the marriage of pleasure with necessity is a very suitable one. To what purpose do we dis- member by divorce a building whose fabric of such conjoined and brotherly correspondence? . . . There is no part unworthy of our care in this gift that God has given us.] (III: 13, 1114b, DM 495r; 855–56*) The matching passage appears near the beginning of the matching chapter: Nostre bastiment & public & privé, est plain d’imperfection: mais il n’y a rien d’inutile en nature, non l’inutilité mesmes; rien ne s’est ingeré en cet univers, qui n’y tienne place opportune. [Our building, both public and private, is full of imperfection. But there is nothing useless in nature, not even uselessness itself. Nothing has made III. Book Three 193 its way into this universe that does not hold a proper place in it.] (III: 1, 790b, DM 344v; 599) This recurring bastiment is itself an example of how the Essays are such a building, one in which every piece has its place, conjoined in a fabric of correspondences. Another example arises from the allusion in “De l’experience,” quoted above, to Ctesiphon’s effort to imitate his mule’s talent for “coups de pied.” For in “De l’utile et de l’honneste” he writes of the artificial liberties some men take in their dealings with others that remind him of “l’asne d’Esope: lequel par emulation du chien, vint à se jetter tout gayement, à deux pieds, sur les espaules de son maistre” [Aesop’s ass, who, in emulation of the dog, came and threw himself gaily with both feet on his master’s shoulders] (III: 1, 795b, DM 347v; 604). The dog had received caresses for that behavior but the ass got a beating. These aren’t the only asses or mules in Book Three, but they are the only two whose hooves come into play. Both Ctesiphon and Aesop’s ass came to grief for trying to replicate what another could do so much more successfully with their feet—in Ctesiphon’s case a mule; in the ass’s, a dog. In addition, the dog in this fable of Aesop is matched by dogs in another of Aesop’s fables in the matching chapter, in the only other allusion to an Aesopian animal (or fable) in Book Three. The human mind imagines that it sees a glimmer of imaginary light and truth, but when it runs toward it so many difficulties and new quests get in the way that it strays from the path, not unlike what happened “aux chiens d’Esope, lesquels descouvrant quelque apparence de corps mort floter en mer” [to Aesop’s dogs, who, discovering something that looked like a dead body floating in the sea] (III: 13, 1068b, DM 472r; 817*), but unable to approach it, tried to drink up this water to dry it up, and died. By alluding in Book Three to these two particular fables of Aesop and no other, and by placing the allusions in symmetrically placed chapters (III: 1 and III: 13), Montaigne has managed to give the first a meta- fictional resonance it did not originally have. The second (the one about the dogs), in the structural context he gives it in the fabric of the book, now echoes the first, which just happened to be about an ass trying to echo a dog’s behavior. But the content of the second has an echoing resonance of its own. Both the motifs of (1) dogs eating something already dead and (2) death brought about by drinking too much water appear together in an anecdote added after 1588 to the matching chapter, III: 1. Montaigne is discussing cases in 194 III. Book Three which hired murderers and traitors were paid the reward they were prom- ised but then put to death for having committed the crime, the demands of both contractual and criminal justice thereby served. He tells of Mohammed II, who wanted to do away with his half-brother. He suborned one of his officers, “qui le suffoqua, l’engorgeant de quantité d’eau prinse trop à coup” [who choked him by pouring a quantity of water too fast down his throat]. But to expiate this murder he handed the killer over to the victim’s mother, who tore out the killer’s heart and “le jetta à manger aux chiens” [threw it to the dogs to eat] (III: 1, 798c; 606). Aesop’s dogs in III: 13 tried to eat what looked like a dead body; it was part of a dead body that fed the dogs in III: 1. These are the only dogs in Book Three to eat or to contemplate eat- ing dead flesh. Montaigne made two post-1588 changes to his account of Aesop’s dogs in III: 13. The first is that he replaced “& s’y tuerent” [and died] (at the conclu- sion of what is quoted above) by “et s’y estouffarent” [and choked ]. This ties the passage more closely to the one in III: 1, where Montaigne follows up the story of murder by forced overdrinking and the putting to death of the mur- derer with another instance of the latter (King Clovis hanging the servants whom he had suborned to betray their master) and then says that in putting to death those who have done one’s evil bidding one seeks “par leur mort d’estouffer la connoissance et tesmoignage de telles menées” [by their death to choke off the knowledge and evidence of such proceedings] (III: 1, 798c; 606*). The other change is that he immediately follows the change from “s’y tuerent” to “s’y estouffarent” with this new comment: A quoy se rencontre ce qu’un Crates disoit des escrits de Heraclitus, qu’ils avoient besoin d’un lecteur bon nageur, afin que la profondeur et pois de sa doctrine ne l’engloutist et suffucast. [And that coincides with what Crates said of the writings of Heraclitus, that they needed a good swimmer for a reader, so that the depth and weight of Heraclitus’ learning should not sink him and choke him.] (III: 13, 1068c; 817*) —tying the passage all the more closely to the one in which Mohammed II’s henchman “suffoqua” his victim. These two passages are the only ones in the Essays where one is “suffoqué” by water. In the two sentences immediately preceding the story about the man whom Mohammed II caused to be killed after he had done his dirty work for him, Montaigne reports how other suborners have managed to satisfy III. Book Three 195 their private promise of reward with the state’s demand for justice: “Ils les font pendre avec la bourse de leur payement au col” [They have them hanged with the purse of their payment around their neck] (III: 1, 798c; 606). This post-1588 addition to III: 1 answers an anecdote already present in III: 13 in which purses and hanging play a major part. He was recalling a case in which certain men are condemned to death for a murder, but before the sen- tence can be carried out some others confess to the crime. The judges debate whether they have the right to alter a sentence duly passed according to law, conclude they do not, and the innocent are sent to the gallows. Montaigne then cites a case from antiquity, in which a judge had sentenced one man to pay a fine to another. New evidence emerged, and he found that the exac- tion had been unjust. This judge faced the same competing demands that the judges in the other case debated between actual justice and the demands of judicial form. He found a way to satisfy both, “laissant en son estat la sentence, & recompensant de sa bourse l’interest du condamné: mais il avoit affaire à un accident reparable, les miens furent pendus irreparablement” [let- ting the sentence stand and compensating the loss of the convicted man out of his own purse. But he was dealing with a reparable accident; my men were irreparably hanged ] (III: 13, 1071b, DM 473v; 820). In both this case and the one in III: 1, giving a purse to the condemned makes it possible to satisfy conflicting demands, although the demands are very different in nature. This passage in III: 13 featuring a purse and a hanging that so cleverly reworks the same elements from III: 1 leads directly into the statement I quoted at the beginning that so strikingly repeats the two most significant elements of III: 1, the ones named in its title: “Tout cecy me faict souvenir de ces anciennes opinions, . . . que l’humaine justice est formée au patron de la medecine, selon laquelle, tout ce qui est utile est aussi juste & honneste” [All this reminds me of these ancient opinions:  .  .  .  that human justice is formed on the model of medicine, according to which all that is useful is also just and honorable] (III: 13, 1071b, DM 473v; 820*). The “Tout cecy” [All this] is precisely the pair of stories about a hanging and a purse that recall the hanging and the purse combined in the post-1588 addition to the chapter about the useful and the honorable. Thanks to that addition there is now an additional dimension to the memory that “Tout cecy” evokes. It was the passage in “De l’experience” about the function of good and evil in “l’armonie du monde,” with its allusion to the man who got into a kicking contest with his mule, illustrative of the folly of those who try to buck natural necessity, that sent us bouncing back and forth between these two chapters, from Ctesiphon’s mule to Aesop’s ass to Aesop’s dogs to the dogs of Muhammed II’s half-brother’s mother. The same passage with its talk 196 III. Book Three of music and mixing—the “musicien” must know how to “mesler” the con- trary elements of his art—anticipates a later passage in the same chapter that itself more strikingly echoes a parallel passage in “De l’utile et le l’honneste.” Near the end of III: 13 Montaigne writes: Le relachement & facilité, honore ce semble à merveilles & sied mieux, à une ame forte & puissante. Epaminondas n’estimoit pas que de se mesler à la dance des garçons de sa ville, & de s’y embesongner avec attention fut chose qui desrogeat à l’honneur de ses glorieuses victoires, & à la plus rei- glée reformation de meurs qui fut jamais en homme. [Relaxation and ease, it seems to me, are marvelously honorable and most becoming to a strong and generous soul. Epaminondas didn’t think that to mingle with the dance of the boys of his city, and to concentrate attentively on these things, was at all derogatory to the honor of his glorious victories and the perfect purity of manners that were ever in a man.] (III: 13, 1109b, DM 493r; 633*) Epaminondas was already associated with the verbal cluster facilité, mesler and meurs near the end of III: 1: “C’est miracle, de pouvoir mesler à telles actions quelque image de justice, mais il n’appartient qu’à la vigueur d’Epaminondas, d’y pouvoir mesler la douceur, & la facilité des meurs les plus molles” [It is a miracle to be able to mingle some semblance of justice to such actions; but it belongs only to the strength of Epaminondas to be able to mingle with them the sweetness and ease of the gentlest manners] (III: 1, 801–2b, DM 349v– 50r; 609*). Epaminondas makes no other appearance in the first (1588) edition of Book Three (from which I am quoting here). What is mingled is different in the two passages: in III: 1 Epaminondas mingles the “plus rudes & violentes actions humaines” [the roughest and most violent of human actions] (III: 1, 801b, DM 349v; 609) on the field of battle in wartime with the ease of his manners, while in III: 13 he mingles himself with the dancing youth of the city (though in effect he is at the same time accomplishing a mingling of heroism and peaceful camaraderie that parallels that between the heroic and the humane of which the other passage speaks). Epaminondas in the III: 1 passage “marioit aux plus rudes & violentes actions humaines, la bonté & l’humanité” [married to the roughest and most of violent of human actions goodness and humanity] (III: 1, 801b, DM 349v; 609*). Though marriage (whether as noun or verb) in the concrete sense makes numerous appearances in Book Three, especially in III: 5, in no chapter in that book III. Book Three 197 other than the first and last does it appear in this particular figurative sense of mingling disparate things. Both as Epaminondas’ rare feat, that is, and in the passage from III: 13 cited earlier that echoed the bastiment in III: 1 with one of its own: “Si ne m’osteront-ils pas de la teste, que ce ne soit un tres- convenable mariage du plaisir avec la necessité. A quoy faire desmembrons nous en divorce, un bastiment tissu, d’une si joinct & fraternelle correspon- dance?” [No, they will not knock it out of my head that the marriage of plea- sure with necessity is a very suitable one. To what purpose do we dismember by divorce a building made up of such close and brotherly correspondence?] (III: 13, 1114b, DM 495r; 855*). Despite the disparate contexts of the two passages about Epaminondas, the same trio of words (facilité, mesler, meurs) persists from one to the other, together with Epaminondas himself. The two chapters are themselves co-mingled in this sense, imitating by their distant harmonies “l’armonie du monde.” 2. distant theft “Du repentir” [Of repentance] (III: 2) and “De la phisionomie” [Of physiognomy] (III: 12) A man knocks on Montaigne’s door and begs to be let in, claiming to be pursued by an enemy. Soon a half-dozen of his armed companions also show up to ask for shelter, followed by twenty or more who remain on horseback in the courtyard. Wanting to help but afraid it may be a robber’s ruse, Mon- taigne plays along, trusting to God for a safe outcome. Suddenly, to the surprise of his soldiers, the man mounts his horse and leads them away, hav- ing decided not to pursue what he later will confess to have been a less than honorable intent. This story of a surprising change of heart is immediately followed by another. Montaigne is captured by armed men during the religious wars, his money stolen, and is told he will be held for ransom. After much negotiation, a surprising change comes over his captors, who let him go and restore what they had stolen. La vraye cause d’un changement si nouveau & de ce ravisement, sans aucune impulsion apparent, & d’un repentir si miraculeux, en tel temps, en une entreprinse pourpensé & deliberé . . . certes je ne sçay bien encores qu’elle elle est. 198 III. Book Three [The true cause of so unusual an about-face and change of mind, without any apparent motivation, and of such a miraculous repentance, at such a time, in a premeditated and deliberate enterprise  .  .  .  I truly do not even now well know.] (III: 12, 1062b, DM 469v; 813–14) One might expect to find a repentir like that in “Du repentir.” But that’s not where Montaigne put it, and in fact there are hardly any examples of genuine repentance in that chapter. As Jules Brody observes, in “Du repentir” we are made to understand that “repentence”—at least in the deep and far- reaching sense of a self-scrutiny capable of producing effective change—is a profound illusion. In those later parts of the essay, actually quite few in number, which deal specifically with repentance  .  .  .  the same conclusion will recur: the examples that we see around us are more verbal than actual, more apparent than real; what passes for repentance is superficial and will not measure up to the deep implications of the word. (“‘Du repentir’ (III: 2): A Philological Reading,” 241) So too is the case with the house invader and the kidnappers in III: 12. They simply changed their mind about robbing or holding him for ransom; they weren’t changing their wicked ways. But Montaigne calls what the kidnap- pers did both a “repentir” and a “ravisement.” That first term is heavy with echoes from the chapter with which III: 12 is symmetrically paired. And the second appears in no other chapter of Book Three than in the following pas- sage from the same chapter: “Si je ne suis chez moy, j’en suis tousjours bien pres: mes desbauches ne m’emportent pas fort loing : il n’y a rien d’extreme & d’estrange : & si ay des ravisemens sains & vigoureux” [My indulgences do not catch me away very far: there is nothing odd or extreme about them, though I do have some sane and vigorous changes of heart] (III: 2, 811b, DM 353v; 615). Brody writes of “the absolutely uncanny way in which Montaigne’s words respond to each other” and “that to read Montaigne philologically”—which is to say, as one in love with the words, which is both his case and mine—“is to be ready at every moment to obey a double solicitation, the contextual and the intratextual.” Such a reader, “once he has been through the text linearly, will be drawn to pursue and compare observed lexical recurrences, synony- mies or on occasion even sizeable passages which continue to impinge on one another in his memory even at several pages’ distance” (269–70). He further asserts that “any reading that claims access to a reality or a unity located out- side the pages of Montaigne’s book imposes an enormous sacrifice and exacts III. Book Three 199 an exorbitant price, namely, the palpable, objective reality and unity consti- tuted by the unbroken string of words which spans the textual space of each individual essay” (270). I can only applaud such a cogent statement of what is worth looking for in the Essays. But that textual space, as Brody does not acknowledge, extends beyond the individual chapter to its secret partner, as the “repentir” and “ravisement” of “Du repentir” extend to those of “De la phisionomie.” Another instance of such a long-distance echo arises from a remarkable story of non-repentence in “Du repentir,” the peasant known as the thief of Armagnac. He was born a beggar and figured he could never make enough to live on by his own toil. So in his youth il moissonnoit & vendangeoit des terres d’autruy : mais c’estoit au loing, & à si gros monceaux, qu’il estoit inimaginable qu’un homme en eust tant rapporté en une nuict sur ses espaules, & avoit soing outre cela, d’egaler, & disperser le dommage qu’il faisoit, si que la foule estoit moins importable à chaque particulier. [he reaped his harvest and vintage from other people’s lands, but so far away and in such great loads that it was inconceivable that one man could have carried off so much on his shoulders in one night. And he was careful besides to equalize and spread out the damage he did, so that the loss was less insupportable for each individual.] (III: 2, 811–12b, DM 354r; 616) Now advanced in years, he makes his peace with God by doing good deeds to the descendants of those from whom he stole, and will instruct his heirs to continue to do so according to the records he kept of what he stole from whom. He “regarde le larrecin, comme action des-honneste, & le hayt, mais moins que l’indigence : s’en repent bien simplement, mais en tant qu’elle estoit ainsi contrebalancée & compencée, il ne s’en repent pas” [regards theft as a dishonorable action and hates it, but hates it less than poverty; he indeed repents of it in itself, but in so far as it was thus counterbalanced and com- pensated, he does not repent of it] (III: 2, 812b, DM 354v; 616). Montaigne, who tells us that “mes fantasies, se suyvent, mais par fois c’est de loing : & se regardent” [my fantasies follow each other, but sometimes it is from afar, and look at each other] (III: 9, 994b, DM 439v; 761*), may have seen himself in the thief of Armagnac, who stole from others’ fields, “mais c’estoit au loing.” Not only does he work at a distance, placing his examples of repentance at the other end of Book Three from his chapter on that subject, but he places in the same distant location some intriguing paral- 200 III. Book Three lels between the thefts of Armagnac and some of his own. With regard to his borrowing from other authors, he writes that quelqu’un pourroit dire de moy, que j’ay seulement faict icy un amas de fleurs estrangeres, que je n’y ay fourny du mien, que le filet à les joindre. . . . Je desrobe mes larrecins, et les desguise. . . . Comme ceux qui desrobent les chevaux, je leur peins le crin & la queuë, & par fois je les esborgne. [someone might say of me that I have here only made a bunch of other people’s flowers, having furnished nothing of my own but the thread to tie them. . . . I conceal my thefts, and disguise them. . . . Like those who steal horses, I paint their mane and tail and sometimes blind them in one eye.] (III: 12, 1055–56b, DM 466v–67r; 808–09, 809n) He contrasts his practice with that of other writers who make a point of let- ting their readers know that they are stealing from other authors and thereby advertise how learned they are. Only Montaigne knows the full extent of his “larrecin,” like the Armagnac thief who alone has the knowledge of how much he stole and from whom. But Montaigne may be alluding as well to another kind of theft, the sort he commits upon himself, as he does here with the word larrecin, together with desrober. As he says in the passage from III: 12 just quoted, “Je desrobe mes larrecins” [I conceal my thefts]. The man of Armagnac, “que chacun surnomme le larron  .  .  .  regarde le larrecin comme une action des-honneste” [whom everyone nicknames the Thief . . . regards theft as a dishonorable action] but not does entirely repent of it because he takes such care to “satisfaire par bien-faicts, aux successeurs de ceux qu’il a desrobez” [compensate, by good deeds, the successors of the people he robbed] (III: 2, 812b, DM 354r; 616). The kind of theft to which Montaigne confesses in III: 12 and the kind he performs upon his Essays are both tex- tual; the larceny to which he confesses and that to which the thief of Arma- gnac likewise “se confesse ouvertement” [openly confesses] are both rural: crops in one case, horses in the other. Montaigne removed the comparison to stealing horses after 1588, but replaced it with a sentence that retains the echoing desrober: “Parmy tant d’emprunts je suis bien aise d’en pouvoir des- rober quelqu’un, les desguisant et difformant à nouveau service” [I, among so many borrowings of mine, am very glad to be able to hide one now and then, disguising and altering it for a new service] (III: 12, 1056c; 809). He did the same thing to the other echoing word, larrecin[s], replacing “les” in the 1588 sentence “Ceux cy les mettent en parade & en compte” [The lat- ter put them on parade and into account] (III: 12, DM 467r) (referring to III. Book Three 201 writers who advertise their theft from other writers) with larrecins: “Ceux- cy mettent leurs larrecins en parade et en conte” [The latter put their thefts on parade and into account] (III: 12, 1056bc; 809). Despite his changes he wanted the echo to remain. Changes in another instance not merely preserved echoes but increased them. In 1588 Montaigne had already set up a parallel between repentance and the French wars of religion. In both, what is generated “au dedans” [on the inside] is worse than what comes “du deshors” [from the outside]. In “Du repentir” he writes Le vice laisse comme un ulcere en la chair, une repentance en l’ame, qui tousjours s’esgratigne, & s’ensanglante elle mesme. Car la raison efface les autres tristesses & douleurs, mais elle engendre celle de la repentance: qui est plus griefve, d’autant qu’elle naist au dedans, comme le froid & le chaut des fiévres, est plus poignant, que celuy qui vient du deshors. [Vice leaves repentance in the soul, like an ulcer in the flesh, which is always scratching itself and drawing blood. For reason effaces other griefs and sor- rows; but it engenders that of repentance, which is all the more grievous because it springs from within, as the cold and heat of fevers is sharper than that which comes from outside.] (III: 2, 806b, DM 351v; 612) In “De la phisionomie,” he writes that the civil war raging around him is a “Monstrueuse guerre : les autres agissent au dehors, cette-cy encore contre soy, se ronge & se desfaict par son propre venin” [Monstrous war: other wars act from outside; this one acts in addition against itself, eats and destroys itself by its own venom] (III: 12, 1041b, DM 461r; 796*). As repentance “s’esgratigne & s’ensanglante elle mesme” [scratches and bloodies itself ], this internecine conflict “se deschire & desmembre” [tears and dismembers itself ] (III: 12, 1041b, DM 461r; 796). In addition, he applies the motif of the internal threat being worse than the external one to another aspect of this war, to the breakdown in military discipline that it engenders. A commanding officer faces more danger from his own men than from the enemy: “il a plus affaire au dedans qu’au dehors, c’est à luy de suivre, courtizer & plier” [he has more trouble within than without. It is he who must follow, court, and bend] (III: 12, 1042b, DM 461v; 796*). After 1588 he made two additions, one to each chapter, that reveal how intent he was on making each chapter echo the other. To “De la phisiono- mie” he added a quotation from Livy—“non armis sed vitiis certatur” [it is fought not with arms but with vices] (III: 12, 1041c; 796)—that echoes 202 III. Book Three what he had already written in the passage quoted above from “Du repen- tir” about how vice creates inner turmoil in the soul: “Le vice laisse comme un ulcere en la chair, une repentance en l’ame, qui tousjours s’esgratigne, & s’ensanglante elle mesme” [Vice leaves repentance in the soul, like an ulcer in the flesh, which is always scratching itself and drawing blood]. He quotes Livy at a moment when he is complaining about the lawlessness the civil war brings in its wake: “J’avois d’une part, les ennemys à ma porte, d’autre part, les picoreurs, pires ennemys” [I had on the one hand the enemy at my door, on the other hand the freebooters, worse enemies] (III: 12, 1041b, DM 461r; 796). Not only does this addition set up an echo with vice, but it also forges a further connection between repentance as a cause of internal torment and the disorder among armed men that poses a greater internal than external threat. The addition to “Du repentir” immediately precedes “Le vice laisse comme un ulcere en la chair, une repentance en l’ame  .  .  .  ,” which sug- gests that Montaigne was thinking of these two additions together—that is, the two additions are textually connected, the one in III: 12, Livy on vices, echoing the “vice” immediately before which the III: 2 addition was placed. It is this: “La malice hume la plus part de son propre venin et s’en empoisonne” [Malice sucks up the greater part of its own venom, and poisons itself with it] (III: 2, 806c; 612). As Balsamo et al. note (1720), Montaigne is paraphrasing Seneca: “malitia ipsa maximam partem veneni sui bibit.” It appears in this passage of Letter 81 (paragraph 22) to Lucilius: When we do wrong, only the least and lightest portion of it flows back upon our neighbor; the worst and, if I may use the term, the densest por- tion of it stays at home and troubles the owner. My master Attalus used to say: “Evil herself drinks the largest portion of her own poison.” The poi- son which serpents carry for the destruction of others, and secrete without harm to themselves, is not like this poison; for this sort is ruinous to the possessor.1 By choosing to translate Seneca’s “bibit” by “hume” (instead of, say, “boit”), Montaigne sets up an echo with this line in “De la phisionomie”: “il n’est air qui se hume si gouluement, qui s’espande & penetre, comme faict la licence” [there is no air that is inhaled so greedily, that so spreads and penetrates, as does license] (III: 12, 1042b, DM 461v; 796). The word is rare, appearing in this form only these two times in the Essays. The license to which he is refer- 1. Seneca, Ad Lucilium Epistulae Morales. Tr. Richard M. Gummere (Cambridge: Harvard Uni- versity Press / Loeb Library, 1920): 233–35. III. Book Three 203 ring is that of soldiers in the civil conflict who pose a greater threat to their officers than does the enemy. The words “son propre venin” find a precise counterpart in “Monstrueuse guerre : les autres agissent au dehors, cette-cy encore contre soy, se ronge & se desfaict par son propre venin” [Monstrous war: other wars act from outside; this one acts in addition against itself, eats and destroys itself by its own venom] (III: 12, 1041b, DM 461r; 796*). The “s’en empoisonne” is echoed by “Nostre mal s’empoisonne / Du secours qu’on luy donne” [“Our illness poisons itself / With the remedy it is given”] (III: 12, 1041b, DM 461r; 796*). The context is Montaigne’s observation that this monstrous war of Catholic against Protestant “vient guarir la sedition, & en est pleine, veut chastier la desobeyssance, & en montre l’exemple, & employée à la deffence des loix, faict sa part de rebellion à l’encontre des siennes propres” [comes to cure sedition and is full of it, would chastise dis- obedience and provides an example of it, and while employed in defense of the laws, rebels against its own] (III: 12, 1041b, DM 461r; 796*). Like the “malice” in “Du repentir,” it is a self-poisoning “mal.” The parallels are so extensive and so striking that one wonders whether Montaigne was really saying what he thought about repentance and about the French civil wars or whether he was just playing with words! As Brody remarks, “it is the peculiar power of Montaigne’s words to lead us back repeatedly and relentlessly to a constant sub-text that parallels the surface text” (261). 3. intercourse with the lame “De trois commerces” [Of three kinds of intercourse] (III: 3) and “Des boyteux” [Of the lame] (III: 11) The pages of “Des boyteux” where the title’s topic is addressed are particu- larly rich in connections to each of the three “commerces”—social, sexual and textual—with which its symmetrical companion is concerned. A propos, ou hors de propos, il n’importe, on dict en Italie en commun proverbe, que celuy-là ne cognoit pas Venus en sa parfaicte douceur, qui n’a couché avec la boiteuse. [Apropos or malapropos, no matter, they say in Italy as a common proverb that he does not know Venus in her perfect sweetness who has not lain with a cripple.] (III: 11, 1033b, DM 457v–58r; 791) 204 III. Book Three This forms a strange echo to something Montaigne says in “De trois com- merces”: “De moy, je ne connois non plus Venus sans Cupidon, qu’une mater- nité sans engence : ce sont choses qui s’entreprestent & s’entredoivent leur essence” [For my part, I no more know Venus without Cupid than maternity without offspring: they are things that lend and owe their essence to each other] (III: 3, 826b, DM 360v; 627*). As Balsamo et al. explain, “here Venus represents desire, physical pleasure, and Cupid represents love” (1729). No other instance of “ne pas / ne plus connaître Venus” appears in the Essays. The two assertions are paradoxically contradictory: one of them holds that you cannot really know Venus without engaging in casual sex with a cripple, the other that one cannot know Venus by engaging in casual sex from which love is absent. La fortune, ou quelque particulier accident, ont mis il y a long temps ce mot en la bouche du peuple, & se dict des masles comme des femelles. [Fortune, or some particular incident, long ago put this saying into the mouth of the people, and it is said of males as well as of females.] (III: 11, 1033b, DM 458r; 791) In the first section of III: 3, in Montaigne’s discussion of his social intercourse with other men, a post-1588 addition echoes this sentence’s elements of (a) fortune, (b) the speech of the lower classes, and (c) what is true of males as well as females: “le conseil de Platon ne me plaist pas, de parler tousjours d’un langage maestral à ses serviteurs, sans jeu, sans familiarité, soit envers les males, soit envers les femelles. Car . . . il est inhumain et injuste de faire tant valoir cette telle quelle prerogative de la fortune” [I do not like Plato’s advice, always to talk to our servants, whether to males or to females, in masterful terms, without playfulness and without familiarity. For  .  .  .  it is inhuman and unjust to make so much of this accidental privilege of Fortune] (III: 3, 821c; 623*). Fortune, in III: 11, may have been responsible for what is said by the lower social classes; that same Fortune, in III: 3, has something to do with what is said to them. Car la Royne des Amazonnes, respondit au Scyte qui la convioit à l’amour, arista xolos oiphei, le boiteux le faict le mieux. [For the Queen of the Amazons replied to the Scythian who was inviting her to make love: “The lame man does it best”] (III: 11, 1033b, DM 458r; 791*) III. Book Three 205 That one can tell from the way a person walks how well he would do at a somewhat more strenuous activity, as the Queen of the Amazons said of the sexual prowess of those who limp, is asserted as well in III: 3: “Hyppomachus disoit bien qu’il connoissoit les bons luicteurs, à les voir simplement marcher par une ruë” [Hippomachus used to say that he could tell good wrestlers by seeing them walk down the street] (III: 3, 824b, DM 360r; 625–26*). Mon- taigne’s source is Plutarch’s Life of Dion, but he made two telling changes. In Plutarch, Hippomachus wasn’t claiming that he could recognize a good wrestler but that he could recognize his own wrestling pupils, and he didn’t say he could tell them from how they used their legs but from how they used their hands. Here is Amyot’s translation, which was the version Montaigne customarily used: “un certain maistre de lucte & d’escrime, nommé Hippo- machus, disoit qu’il conoissoit bien de tout loin ceux qui avoyent apris ces exercices du corps sous lui, à les voir tant seulement revenir du marché apor- tans de la chair en leurs mains” [a certain teacher of wrestling and fencing named Hippomachus used to say that he recognized from afar all those who had learned those physical exercises from him, just from seeing them come back from the market carrying meat in their hands]. Plutarch’s purpose in recounting this anecdote is to make a point about how alike students of the same master can be—Dion, who studied with Plato in person, and Brutus, who studied him through his writings. Montaigne’s purpose is different, and this accounts for why he made Hippomachus say that he had a way of spot- ting a good wrestler instead of saying that he could recognize his own stu- dents: “Ce n’est pas au subject des substitutions seulement, que nostre esprit montre sa beauté & sa force, & aux affaires des Roys : il la monstre autant aux confabulations privées. Je connois mes gens au silence mesme, & à leur soubsrire, & les descouvre mieux à l’advanture à table, qu’au conseil” [It is not only on the subject of lineal substitutions or the affairs of kings that our mind shows its beauty and strength; it shows it as much in private confabula- tions. I know my men even more by their silence and their smiles, and per- haps find out more about them at table than in the council chamber] (III: 3, 824b, DM 360r; 625). Montaigne’s saying “Je connois mes gens” [I know my men] may be a sly wink signaling that he was well aware of what Hip- pomachus really said, and that he knew he was misquoting Plutarch, but he wasn’t saying he could recognize someone he already knew. He meant that he could recognize the kind of conversational partner he was looking for: “Les hommes, de la societé & familiarité desquels je suis en queste” [The men whose society and intimacy I seek] (III: 3, 824b, DM 359v; 625). Of the two changes Montaigne made in Plutarch, the one concerning whom or what Hippomachus could recognize from a distance suits his imme- 206 III. Book Three diate purpose in “De trois commerces,” while the change from hands to feet suits his purpose in the larger context that chapter forms with “Des boyteux,” anticipating the attention paid to the walking ability (or inability) of those whom the Amazons found to be so good in bed. En cette republique feminine, pour fuir la domination des masles, elles les stropioient des l’enfance, bras, jambes, & autres membres qui leur don- noient avantage sur elles, & se servoient d’eux, à ce seulement, à quoy nous nous servons d’elles par deçà. [In that feminine commonwealth, to escape the domination of the males, they crippled them from childhood—arms, legs, and other parts that gave men an advantage over them—and made use of them only for the purpose for which we make use of women over here.] (III: 11, 1033b, DM 458r; 791*) The Amazons of antiquity seeking to flee male domination find their coun- terpart in women who have the same motivation in “De trois commerces”: Or de cette trahison commune & ordinaire des hommes d’aujourd’huy, il faut qu’il advienne, ce que desja nous montre l’experience, c’est qu’elles se r’alient & rejettent à elles mesmes, ou entre elles, pour nous fuyr : ou bien qu’elles se rengent aussi de leur costé, à cet exemple que nous leur donnons, qu’elles jouent leur part de la farce, & se prestent à cette negotiation, sans passion, sans soing & sans amour. [Now the necessary outcome of this common and ordinary treachery of the men of today is what experience is already showing us, that they rally and fall back upon themselves or each other to flee from us; or else that they too, for their part, fall in line with this example that we give them, play their part in the farce, and lend themselves to this negotiation, without passion, without interest, and without love.] (III: 3, 825b, DM 360v; 626–27*) Both the Amazons and women of Montaigne’s time not only flee men, but imitate them too. The Amazons, having maimed their victims, “se servoient d’eux, à ce seulement, à quoy nous nous servons d’elles par deçà” [made use of them only for the purpose for which we make use of women over here]— that is, for sex. Montaigne divides the women of his time into two groups, one of which forms its own society, like the Amazons their republic (“elles se r’alient & rejettent à elles mesmes” [they rally and fall back upon themselves III. Book Three 207 or each other]), but those in the other group “se rengent . . . à cet exemple que nous leur donnons” [fall in line  .  .  .  with this example that we give them], and engage in loveless sex with men. In III: 3, the women do either one thing or the other; in III: 11, the Amazons do both—for they evidently aren’t engaging in sex with the lame out of affection but because they believe that the latter are better at it. J’eusse dict, que le mouvement detraqué de la boiteuse, apportast quelque nouveau goust à la besongne, & quelque point de douceur à ceux qui l’essayent. [I would have said that the irregular movement of the lame woman brought some new pleasure to the business and a spice of sweetness to those who try it.] (III: 11, 1033b, DM 458r; 791) He writes in “De trois commerces” as well—in a post-1588 addition—of the possibility that a woman’s mouvement could be sexually enticing, even if nothing else about her was: “[B] il n’y a aucune d’elles, pour malotruë qu’elle soit, qui ne pense estre bien aymable, [C] et qui ne se recommande par son aage ou par son ris, ou par son mouvement; car de laides universellement il n’en est, non plus que de belles” [(B) there is not a woman, however ill- favored she may be, who does not think herself worth loving, (C) and who does not think herself attractive for her youth or her laugh, or the way she moves. For there are no absolutely ugly women, any more than there are abso- lutely beautiful ones] (III: 3, 825bc; 626*). mais je viens d’apprendre, que mesme la philosophie ancienne en a decidé : elle dict que les jambes & cuisses des boiteuses, ne recevant à cause de leur imperfection, l’aliment qui leur est deu, il en advient que les parties geni- tales, qui sont au dessus, sont plus plaines, plus nourries, & vigoureuses. Ou bien, que ce defaut empeschant l’exercice, ceux qui en sont entachez, dissipent moins leurs forces, & en viennent plus entiers aux operations de Venus. Qui est aussi la raison, pourquoy les Grecs descrioient les tisserandes d’estre plus chaudes que les autres femmes, à cause du mestier sedentaire qu’elles font, sans grand exercice du corps. [but I have just learned that ancient philosophy, no less, has decided the question; it says that since the legs and thighs of lame women, because of their imperfection, do not receive the food that is their due, the result is that the genital parts, which are above, are fuller, better nourished, and 208 III. Book Three more vigorous. Or else that, this defect preventing exercise, those who are tainted by it dissipate their strength less and come more entire to the works of Venus. Which is also the reason why the Greeks decried women weavers as being hotter than other women: because of the sedentary trade they per- form, without much bodily exercise.] (III: 11, 1033–34b, DM 458r; 791*) He speaks of the first of his “trois commerces,” interaction with men through the art of conversation, as a form of exercice: “La fin de ce commerce, c’est simplement la privauté, frequentation, & conference : l’exercice des ames, sans autre fruit. . . . Une ame bien née, & exercée à la practique des hommes, se rend plainement aggreable d’elle mesme” [The object of this intercourse is simply intimacy, fellowship, and conversation: the exercise of our souls with no other gain.  .  .  . A wellborn mind that is practiced in dealing with men makes itself thoroughly agreeable by itself ] (III: 3, 824b, DM 359v–60r; 625–26*). And we have seen how his changing Plutarch’s anecdote about Hippomachus to focus on the way a man walks (as opposed to what he does with his hands) connects with that same passage, and in particular with this part of it, with its reasoning concerning the “jambes & cuisses” of the “boiteuses.” The focus here placed on the “parties genitales” forms an echo to certain “parties matrimoniales” that appear in the same post-1588 addition to his discussion of his second “commerce,” that with women, in which he writes of an ill-favored woman’s mouvement as sexually attractive. Then he goes on to write of how another group of women reveal their only claim to beauty: “les filles Brachmanes qui ont faute d’autre recommandation, le peuple assemblé à cri publiq pour cet effect, vont en la place, faisant montre de leurs par- ties matrimoniales, veoir si par là aumoins elles ne valent pas d’acquerir un mary” [the Brahman girls who have nothing else to recommend them go to the market place, when the people have been assembled by the public crier for this purpose, and display their matrimonial parts, to see if in this respect at least they are not good enough to get a husband] (III: 3, 825c; 626). Although there are seven other allusions in Book Three to parties in this sense (in III: 1 and III: 5) those others are all of the male variety. It is fair to say that these feminine parties are on display in this book of the Essays both in the Brahman village and in the description of the boiteuses, each answering the other as only Montaigne’s symmetrically placed echoes know how. What he says about his third “commerce,” the one with books, likewise provides some textual parallels with the passage on the “boiteuses,” where he notes that the weaving trade condemns the women who ply it to a life “sans grand exercice du corps” [without much bodily exercise] (III: 11, 1034b, DM III. Book Three 209 458r; 791). Reading, another sedentary activity, poses the same problem for Montaigne. This “commerce,” rewarding as it is, “a ses incommoditez, & bien poisantes : l’ame s’y exerce, mais le corps, duquel je n’ay non plus oublié le soing, demeure ce pendant sans action, s’atterre & s’attriste” [has its disad- vantages, and very weighty ones. The mind is exercised in books, but the body, whose care I have not forgotten either, remains meanwhile inactive, droops and grieves] (III: 3, 829b, DM 362v; 630). Indeed, he dreams of construct- ing a walkway next to his library to stretch his legs in, “un proumenoir. Mes pensées dorment, si je les assis. Mon esprit ne va, si les jambes ne l’agitent” [a place to walk. My thoughts fall asleep if I make them sit down. My mind will not budge unless my legs move it] (III: 3, 828c; 629). Legs and sleep are combined in an opposite way in another passage in “Des boyteux,” where he has not yet taken up the topic of the lame. A man suffering from gout had heard of a priest who could cure that malady, but he would have to travel a distance to reach him. Eager to make the journey, he “par la force de son apprehension persuada et endormit ses jambes pour quelques heures, si qu’il en tira du service qu’elles avoient desapris luy faire il y avoit long temps” [by the power of his imagination persuaded his legs and put them to sleep for a few hours, so that he derived from them a service that they had long since forgotten how to do for him] (III: 11, 1028–29b, DM 455r; 787). While he found that his thoughts dorment [fall asleep] if he doesn’t get up and walk around a bit, the gout-sufferer found that if he could endormir ses jambes [put his legs to sleep] (that is, if he could anesthetize them from the pain of the gout) then he could walk. So while in III: 3 using one’s legs prevents one’s thoughts from falling asleep, in III: 11 a man puts his legs to sleep in order to use them. 4. the little things “De la diversion” [Of diversion] (III: 4) and “De mesnager sa volonté” [Of husbanding your will] (III: 10) “Peu de chose nous divertit & destourne : car peu de chose nous tient” [A little thing diverts and turns us, for a little thing holds us] (III: 4, 836a, DM 365v; 635*), Montaigne writes in “De la diversion.” He goes on to elaborate: “Nous ne regardons gueres les subjects en gros & seuls : ce sont des circons- tances ou des images menues & superficieles qui nous frapent, & des vaines escorces qui rejaillisent des subjects” [We scarcely look at things in gross and alone; it is the minute and superficial circumstances and notions that strike 210 III. Book Three us, and the empty husks that peel off from the things]. We are distracted, that is, by the “superficial” aspects of a subject, its useless outer surface, this “little thing” that diverts us, with the implication that we should not allow ourselves to be thus diverted from the subject itself. Such, however, might itself be a superficial reading of this passage, because if we could get past the surface of this apparent deprecation of sur- face we might find that things are not quite what they seem, on the surface, to be. For the words “peu de chose nous tient” find an intriguing echo in the very first words of III: 4’s companion chapter, “De mesnager sa volonté.” It is particularly intriguing because although it is almost word for word the same, it means just the opposite: “Au pris du commun des hommes, peu de choses me touchent, ou pour mieux dire, me tiennent” [In comparison with most men, few things touch me, or, to put it better, hold me] (III: 10, 1003b, DM 443r; 766). By the difference of a single letter, the s that distinguishes “peu de chose” from “peu de choses,” Montaigne manages to say precisely opposite things, the “peu de chose nous tient” of III: 4 meaning “a little thing holds us” (or as Frame translates it, “it takes little to hold us”),2 yet the “peu de choses . . . me tiennent” of III: 10 telling us that “few things . . . hold me.” It is the difference between a positive and a negative. Montaigne may not be contradicting himself, however, because what he said in III: 4 applies to “us”—evidently to people in general—while the statement in III: 10 applies only to himself. But this in no way frees us from the obligation to give seri- ous consideration to what is itself a phenomenon of the surface of the text, an obligation that a superficial reading of the passage in III: 4, with its appar- ent dismissal of the husk for the sake of the core, might have made us think we did not, with this text, have to assume. But what in fact we are called here to consider is the extent to which the surface penetrates that core. And when Montaigne complains in III: 4 that “We scarcely look at subjects in gross”—in their totality—he could be taken, were his words to be applied to his readers, to mean that we look at the whole picture all too seldom. It is a picture that in its entirety would take in just this kind of symmetrically- placed echo. In other words, this is a self-referential metafictional moment. This is especially true of the phrase “ou pour mieux dire” [or, to put it better] in the echoing passage (“Au pris du commun des hommes, peu de choses me touchent, ou pour mieux dire, me tiennent”), for it does indeed put it better. It is only when he supplements “me touchent” with “me tiennent” that the echo with “peu de chose nous tient” fully emerges. 2. My translation follows that of Montaigne’s near-contemporary John Florio: “A little thing doth divert and turne us; for a small thing holds us.” III. Book Three 211 Another instance of both chapters talking about the same subject but from opposite points of view arises from a particular use of the tactic of diversion that is thematic in “De la diversion” but is all the same a signifi- cant presence in “De mesnager sa volonté.” As well it might, since diversion is employed in III: 4 to deal with one’s desires in the interests of self-control, which itself is the announced topic of III: 10. The relevant passage in III: 4 has to do with diverting the mind from thoughts of vengeance: C’est une douce passion que la vengeance . . . pour en distraire dernierement un jeune prince, je . . . m’amusay à luy faire gouster la beauté d’une image contraire : l’honneur, la faveur, la bien-veillance qu’il acquerroit par cle- mence & bonté : je le destournay à l’ambition. [Vengeance is a sweet passion.  .  .  . Recently, in order to distract a young prince away from it, I . . . applied myself to making him relish the beauty of a contrary picture, the honor, favor, and good will he would acquire by clemency and kindness. I diverted him to ambition.] (III: 4, 835b, DM 364v; 634) Distracting someone away from vengeance, however, is not what Montaigne has in mind in a parallel passage in “De mesnager sa volonté.” For there vengeance is not to be avoided but desired, and any distraction or diver- sion made use of there is geared toward making that vengeance all the more effective. La philosophie veut qu’au chastiment des offences receuës, nous en distrayons la cholere, non afin que la vengeance en soit moindre, ains au rebours, afin qu’elle soit d’autant mieux assennee & plus poisante : à quoy il luy semble que cette impetuosité porte empeschement. [Philosophy wills that in chastising injuries received we distract anger away from it, not so that the vengeance may be less, but on the contrary so that it may be all the better dealt out and heavier; which purposes, so philoso- phy thinks, this impetuosity hinders.] (III: 10, 1008b, DM 445v; 770–71*) Vengeance (in any form of noun or verb) appears together with distraire (in any form) in no other chapter than these two. Frivolity and blushing are united, though in opposite ways (as were ven- geance and distraction) in the two chapters. In “De la diversion” Montaigne imagines a soldier on a battlefield “tout bouillant & rougissant de cholere” 212 III. Book Three [all boiling and red with anger] for a “Frivole cause” [Frivolous cause]3 (III: 4, 839b, DM 366v; 637). In “De mesnager sa volonté” he again calls our attention to an imaginary warrior caught up in the heat of battle: “Regar- dez pourquoy celuy-là s’en va courre fortune de son honneur & de sa vie, à tout son espée & son poignart; qu’il vous die d’où vient la source de ce debat, il ne le peut faire sans rougir, tant l’occasion en est vaine, & frivole” [See why that man goes off to risk his honor and his life with his sword and dagger; let him tell you whence comes the source of this quarrel; he cannot do so without blushing, so vain and frivolous is the occasion of it] (III: 10, 1018b, DM 449v; 779). This time the reason the soldier is fighting is still frivolous though his face reddens from quite a different emotion, not anger but shame (at the frivolity of the occasion). Unlike the two passages about the distraction of vengeance, the two here are not at odds with each other on the sentiment the narrator appears to express. For in both the warrior’s zeal is frivolous, artificially induced. In both of these anecdotes the same ele- ments—frivolous causality and blushing combatants—appear, though disas- sembled and rearranged into a new combination. We should note that there are two additional recurrent elements: that Montaigne imagines the soldier being asked (by Montaigne in III: 4, by the reader in III: 10) why he is fight- ing and the way he invites the reader to “see”: “Voyez le” (III: 4, 839b, DM 366v; 637) and “Regardez” (III: 10, 1018b, DM 449v; 779). Reddening (any form of rougir) and frivolity (any form of frivole) make a joint appearance in no other chapter. For another example of the reassembled anecdote we could consider the case of the burning martyrs and the snowman. In “De la diversion” Mon- taigne questions the constancy of martyrs about to be burned at the stake. Praying out loud, their eyes and their hands raised to heaven, filling their senses as much as they can with ardent devotion, “On les doibt louer de religion : mais non proprement de constance. Ils fuyent la luicte : ils des- tournent de la mort leur consideration” [They are to be praised for piety, but not properly for constancy. They avoid the struggle; they turn their attention away from death] (III: 4, 833b, DM 364r; 632*). To this questionable con- stancy on the part of those confronted with fire Montaigne in “De mesnager sa volonté” opposes a questionable “constancy” on the part of one confronted with ice. Diogenes, stark naked, was embracing a snowman as a test of his endurance. A passerby asked if he was very cold. Not at all, the stoic said. “Or, suyvit l’autre, que penses-tu donc faire de difficile & d’exemplaire à 3. Actually, it is the reader he is addressing whom he imagines saying that it is frivolous. Mon- taigne goes farther, saying there was no cause at all, just a “resverie sans corps & sans suject” [daydream without body or subject] that motivated the soldier. III. Book Three 213 se tenir là? Pour mesurer la constance, il faut necessairement sçavoir la souf- france” [“Then,” the other went on, “what difficult and exemplary thing do you think you are doing by remaining there?” To measure the constancy we must necessarily know the suffering] (III: 10, 1014b, DM 448r; 776*). 5. sexual Vanity, Vain sex “Sur des vers de Virgile” [Of some lines of Virgil] (III: 5) and “De la vanité” [Of vanity] (III: 9) In “de la vanité,” Montaigne tells us that he is in the habit of affecting a stud- ied nonchalance that is really a cover for a more secret preparation. Though he is talking about speaking in public, his words are doubtless relevant to his writing style, whose surface is just as likely to give the impression of impro- visation: “mon dessein est, de representer en parlant, une profonde non- chalance, & des mouvemens fortuites & impremeditez, comme naissans des occasions presentes” [my plan in speaking is to display an extreme noncha- lance and fortuitous and unpremeditated gestures, as if they arose from the immediate occasion] (III: 9, 963b, DM 424v; 735*). He compares his own experience to that of poor Lyncestes, who was accused of conspiring against Alexander and was brought before the army to give his defense. He had com- mitted his carefully planned speech to memory, “de laquelle tout hesitant & begayant il prononça quelques paroles: comme il se troubloit de plus en plus, ce pendant qu’il luicte avec sa memoire, & qu’il la retaste” [of which, all hesitating and stammering, he pronounced a few words. As he was growing more and more troubled, wrestling with his memory and trying to go over it again] (III: 9, 962b, DM 424r; 735*), the soldiers nearby rushed up and killed him, taking his difficulty in expressing himself to be a confession of guilt. Just a few lines before, Montaigne had used the verb retaster (literally, to touch a second time) in relation to his writing the Essays and to his own wrestling with a poor memory: “Encores en ces ravasseries icy, crains-je la tra- hison, de ma memoire, que par inadvertance, elle m’aye faict enregistrer une chose deux fois. Je hay à me reconnoistre, & ne retaste jamais qu’envis ce qui m’est une fois eschappé” [In these ramblings of mine I fear the treachery of my memory, lest inadvertently it may have made me record something twice. I hate to reexamine myself, and never go over again, if I can help it, what has once escaped me] (III: 9, 962b, 423v; 734*). Complaining about an imperfect memory that is likely to allow him to say the same thing twice in two different places is a good way to affect non- 214 III. Book Three chalance.4 To conceal, that is, under the excuse of forgetfulness the signifi- cance of what he does say twice, and does so intentionally. In fact it happens here. In commenting on Lyncestes’ plight he says that the flow of his own discourse is easily stopped. But in “Sur des vers de Virgile” he also com- plains that it is easily stopped. The reasons are different. In “De la vanité” it will happen if he relies too much on his memory: “Pour moy, cela mesme, que je sois lié à ce que j’ay à dire, sert à m’en desprendre. Quand je me suis commis & assigné entierement à ma memoire, je pends si fort sur elle, que je l’accable” [For my part, the very fact of being bound to what I have to say is enough to break my grip on it. When I have committed and entrusted myself entirely to my memory, I lean so heavily on it that I overburden it] (III: 9, 963b, DM 424r–24v; 735). In “Sur des vers de Virgile” it will hap- pen if someone interrupts him: “J’ay le parler un peu delicatement jaloux d’attention & de silence, si je parle de force. Qui m’interrompt, m’arreste” [In speech I am rather sensitively jealous of attention and silence if I am speaking in earnest: whoever interrupts me stops me] (III: 5, 876b, DM 384r; 668). Nor long after the passage in “De la vanité” where he says he is afraid of having said the same thing twice, he again says the same thing twice: “Les imperfections mesme, ont leur moyen de se recommander” [Even imperfections have a way of recommending themselves] (III: 9, 964b, DM 425r; 737). For here he is repeating a sentiment expressed in III: 5: “Je corrigerois volontiers une erreur accidentale, dequoy je suis plain, ainsi que je cours inadvertem- ment, mais les imperfections qui sont en moy ordinaires & constantes, ce seroit trahison de les oster” [I would indeed correct an accidental error, and I am full of them, since I run on carelessly. But the imperfections that are ordinary and constant in me it would be treachery to remove] (III: 5, 875b, 383v; 667). In both chapters he is talking about imperfections in the Essays. Given that he says that if he were to “enregistrer une chose deux fois” [record something twice] it would be “par inadvertance” [inadvertently], then the second of these statements about the desirability of keeping imperfections in the book is a self-naming artifact because it is an imperfection he kept in the book. But there is an interesting twist in this repetition, for in making it he seems to contradict himself. In the passage quoted from “Sur des vers de Vir- gile” he says there are some errors he would correct, the inadvertent ones (“Je 4. We are reminded by Sylvie Peytavin of the insistence with which Montaigne keeps telling us throughout the Essays that he has a monstrously bad faculty of memory in “L’exceptionnelle amnésie de Montaigne. Constat ou signe?” Nouveau Bulletin de la Société Internationale des Amis de Montaigne 50 (July–December 2009): 91–107. See also Eric Macphail, “Mémoire,” in the Dictionnaire de Mon- taigne, 748–50. III. Book Three 215 corrigerois volontiers une erreur accidentale, dequoy je suis plain, ainsi que je cours inadvertemment”), and just a few lines later he says the same thing again (an inadvertent error?): “je corrige les fautes d’inadvertence, non celles de coustume” [I correct the faults of inadvertence, not those of habit] (III: 5, 875b, 383v; 667). Yet in the passage from “De la vanité” he says he does not correct the Essays from one edition to the next: “J’adjouste, mais je ne corrige pas” [I add, but I do not correct] (III: 9, 963b, DM 424v; 736). The seem- ing contradiction vanishes when he goes on to make clear that the errors he doesn’t correct are the habitual ones, the imperfections that “ont leur moyen de se recommender.” Yet on the level of the words themselves, which is where we have so often seen Montaigne at play, the parallels are substantial. In both passages he writes of what he does or doesn’t correct and of imperfections worth keeping. Here’s another instance of his repeating himself. In “Sur des vers de Vir- gile” he advertises for a companion: S’il y a quelque personne d’honneur, quelque bonne compagnie, aux champs, en la ville, en France, ou ailleurs, resseante, ou voyagere, à qui mes humeurs soient bonnes, de qui les humeurs me soient bonnes, il n’est que de siffler en paume, je leur iray fournir des essays, en cher & en os. [If there some person of honor, some good company, in country or city, in France or elsewhere, residing or traveling, to whom my humors seem good, and whose humors seem good to me, they have only to whistle in their palm and I will go furnish them with essays in flesh and bone.] (III: 5, 843– 44b, DM 368v; 640*) In “De la vanité” he repeats the offer: Outre ce profit, que je tire d’escrire de moy, j’en espere cet autre, que s’il advient que mes humeurs plaisent, & accordent à quelque honneste homme, avant que je meure, il recerchera de nous joindre.  .  .  . Si à si bonnes enseignes, je sçavois quelqu’un qui me fut propre, certes je l’irois trouver bien loing. Car la douceur d’une sortable, & aggreable compaignie, ne se peut assez acheter à mon gré. [Besides this profit that I derive from writing about myself, I hope for this other advantage, that if my humors happen to please and suit some worthy man before I die, he will try to meet me. . . . If by such good signs I knew of a man who was suited to me, truly I would go very far to find him; for 216 III. Book Three the sweetness of harmonious and agreeable company cannot be bought too dearly, in my opinion.] (III: 9, 981b, DM 432v; 750) Not only is the wish repeated, but so too the vocabulary: quelque, compaignie, mes humeurs, je . . . iray / irois. Is this really a case of saying the same thing twice by inadvertence? Or is it not rather another instance of the myriad of symmetrically and intentionally placed echoes in the text? Like the self- naming imperfections we encountered above, this repetition is self-referen- tial: like the situation they describe, each reaches out to its distant double, each to the other across the pages that separate them. Or they would if they knew the other was there. Montaigne, that is, pretends not to know that he has said the same thing twice, saying that if he were ever to do so it would be inadvertent. He pretends that he never willingly goes over what he has written, that he “ne retaste jamais qu’envis ce qui m’est une fois eschappé.” But we know that isn’t true. As Marianne S. Meijer reminds us, “The Exem- plaire de Bordeaux shows that Montaigne continuously reread his own book and commented on his own text by inserting additions of varying length.”5 Indeed, both of these passages, dating from the 1588 edition, are surrounded by post-1588 insertions. Thus do III: 5 and III: 9 form, in hidden yet discernible ways, a single text. Their two great themes, not surprisingly, come together when Mon- taigne observes of sex that “Certes c’est une marque non seulement de nostre corruption originelle: mais aussi de nostre vanité & deformité” [Truly it is a mark not only of our original corruption but also of our vanity and defor- mity] (III: 5, 878b, DM 385r; 669*).6 Or again: “C’est une passion qui mesle à bien peu d’essence solide, beaucoup plus de vanité & resverie fievreuse” [this is a passion that with very little solid essence mixes in much more vanity and feverish dreaming] (III: 5, 880b, DM 386r; 671*). The two chapters share a different variety of common text as well. As André Tournon points out (Route par ailleurs, 347), an examination of the Bordeaux Copy reveals that a post-1588 addition to III: 9 was originally a post-1588 addition to III: 5. The following passage— Plaisante fantasie: plusieurs choses que je ne voudroy dire à personne, je les dis au peuple, et sur mes plus secretes sciences ou pensées renvoye à une boutique de libraire mes amis plus feaux. 5. Page 168 of Marianne S. Meijer, “Guesswork or Facts: Connections between Montaigne’s Last Three Chapters (III: 11, 12, and 13),” Yale French Studies 64 (1983): 167–79. 6. “Vanity” in the original sense of emptiness, which is predominant in “De la vanité.” III. Book Three 217 [Amusing notion: many things that I would not want to tell anyone, I tell the public; and for my most secret knowledge and thoughts I send my most faithful friends to a bookseller’s shop.] (III: 9, 981c; 750) —was written in the margin of the other chapter7 to be inserted just before “Celuy qui faict tout pour l’honneur & pour la gloire, que pense-il gaigner, en se produisant au monde en masque, desrobant son vray estre à la connois- sance du peuple? Louez un bossu de sa belle taille, il le doit recevoir à injure” [A man who does everything for honor and glory, what does he think to gain by presenting himself to the world in a mask, concealing his true being from public knowledge? Praise a hunchback for his handsome figure, and he is bound to take it as an insult] (III: 5, 847b, DM 369v; 643). That bossu, we know, is itself the site of another intratextual echo. And where Mon- taigne finally put this addition in III: 9 was right inside another such echo, the appeal to a stranger with whom his “humeurs” might find favor that harks back to a similar appeal in III: 5. He broke up the original passage to place this insertion just after the sentence about the “humeurs” and before the part that echoes the “compaignie” of the equivalent passage in III: 5. The two chapters were interchangeable for Montaigne in this sense: an addition originally intended for one could just as easily go into the other.8 6. Borrowed wealth “Des coches” [Of coaches] (III: 6) and “De l’art de conferer” [Of the art of discussion] (III: 8) “Des coches” is memorable for its account of Spanish treachery and Aztec and Incan nobility of spirit. Montaigne writes at length, for example, about the stoic valor of the “Roy de Mexico, ayant long temps defendu sa ville assiegée, & montré en ce siege tout ce que peut & la souffrance, & la perseverance, si 7. There is slightly different wording at the end of what he had added in the margin of III: 5: “ . . . renvoie à mon livre mes plus privez amis” [I send my most private friends to my book]. 8. Another indication of the continuity of Montaigne’s chapter on sex and his chapter on vanity is that in the former he argues that a marriage should devolve into a friendship (“Ung bon mariage, s’il en est, refuse la compaignie & conditions de l’amour, il tache à representer celles de l’amitié ” [A good marriage, if such there be, rejects the company and conditions of love. It tries to reproduce those of friendship] [III: 5, 851b, DM 371v; 647]) and in the latter that is precisely what he calls it: “Quant aux devoirs de l’amitié maritale, qu’on pense estre interessez par cette absence, je ne le crois pas” [As for the duties of marital friendship that some people consider injured by absence, I do not believe it] (III: 9, 975b, DM 429v; 745*). 218 III. Book Three onques prince, & peuple, le monstra” [king of Mexico, having long defended his besieged city and shown in this siege all that endurance and perseverance can do, if ever prince and people did so] (III: 6, 912b, DM 400v; 696*). In their mad search for gold, the conquistadors tortured him, together with one of the chief notables of his court. The latter, unable to bear his pain, asked the king for permission to tell his tormentors what they wanted to hear, but le Roy plantant fierement & rigoureusement les yeux sur luy, pour reproche de sa lascheté & pusillanimité, luy dict seulement ces mots, d’une voix rude & ferme: & moy suis-je dans un bain, suis-je pas plus à mon aise que toy? [the king, fixing his eyes proudly and severely on him in reproach for his cowardice and pusillanimity, said to him only these words, in a stern firm voice: “And I, am I in a bath? Am I more comfortable than you?”] (III: 6, 912b, DM 400v–401r; 696–97*) But even though Montaigne in “De l’art de conferer” sticks more closely to its declared subject—for in “Des coches” he spends more time talking about the New World (and the spectacles held in the Roman Coliseum) than about coaches—he manages to wander far enough from the topic his title announces to talk about the very same king: “A quoy, touche l’usage de tant de peuples, qui canonizent le Roy, qu’ils ont faict d’entre eux, & ne se conten- tent point de l’honnorer, s’ils ne l’adorent. Ceux de Mexico dépuis que les ceremonies de son sacre sont parachevées, n’osent plus le regarder au visage” [To this is related the custom of so many peoples who canonize the king they have created from among themselves, and are not content to honor him if they do not adore him. Those of Mexico, after the ceremonies of his corona- tion are completed, no longer dare to look him in the face] (III: 8, 935b, DM 412r; 714), but as if his royal status had made him a god, they have him swear to maintain their religion, their laws, their liberties, to be valiant, just and kind, to make the sun, rain, and rivers contribute all things necessary to the people. Montaigne drew the details about the Mexican monarch that he relates in both chapters from the same source, Gomara’s Histoire générale des Indes (Villey 1320–22). Although the “Roy de Mexico” was mentioned twice in Book One (in I: 30 and I: 36), these are the only two chapters in which he appears in Book Three. Edwin Duval, who has revealed so many architectural symmetries in Rabelais’s books, finds a remarkable one in the construction of “Des coches.” The newly discovered world of the Americas mirrors the world of ancient Rome: III. Book Three 219 1. Roman coaches: Mark Anthony, Heliogabalus, Firmus and their strange chariots 2. Roman pomp and magnificence: spectacles in the amphitheaters 3. Misconceptions concerning the age of the world: historical views of Lucretius and modern Europeans  . . .  3. Misconceptions concerning the age of the world: religious views of the Mexicans 2. New World pomp and magnificence: the Peruvian highway 1. New World coaches: the king of Peru and his golden litter9 It was a nice touch on Montaigne’s part to have planted a “belle symme- trie” in his description of the Roman spectacles themselves, a kind of micro- cosm of the whole: “C’estoit pourtant une belle chose, d’aller faire apporter & planter en la place aus arenes, une grande quantité de gros arbres, tous branchus & tous verts, representant une grande forest ombrageuse, despartie en belle symmetrie” [It was, however, a fine thing to bring and plant in the amphitheater a great quantity of big trees, all branching and green, repre- senting a great shady forest, arranged in beautiful symmetry] (III: 6, 905b, DM 396v; 691). But even the symmetry that Duval finds in “Des coches” is a microcosm of another, the symmetry in which that chapter finds its other (as the Old World finds its other in the New: “Nostre monde vient d’en trouver un autre” [Our world has just discovered another world] [III: 6, 908b, DM 398r; 693]) in “De l’art de conferer.” That larger symmetry finds another metafictional moment in Montaigne’s account of the architecture of those amphitheaters: “tous les coustez de ce grand vuide, remplis & environ- nez” [all the sides of this great emptiness filled and surrounded] (III: 6, 905b, DM 396v; 691*) with tiers of cushioned seats. For it repeats his description of the Essays themselves, when he likened them at the beginning of “De l’amitié” to what an artist did to the walls of his chateau: “Il choisit le plus noble endroit & milieu de chasque paroy, pour y loger un tableau elabouré de toute sa suffisance, & le vuide tout au tour il le remplit de crotesques” [He chooses the noblest place, the middle of each wall, to place a picture labored over with all his skill, and the empty space all around it he fills with grotesques] (I: 28, 183a, DM 252; 135). The central tableau will turn out to be La Boétie’s sonnet sequence; the grotesques, he will go on to say, are the surrounding chapters. The word “vuide” and verb “remplir” appear together 9. On p. 106 of Edwin M. Duval, “Lessons of the New World: Design and Meaning in Mon- taigne’s ‘Des Cannibales” (1: 31) and ‘Des coches’ (III: 6),” Yale French Studies 64 (1983): 95–112. 220 III. Book Three nowhere else. In an interesting inversion, the “vuide” in I: 28 is the circum- ference, in III: 6 the center. The reason why Montaigne begins his description of what takes place in the “vuide” (the symmetrically planted trees, etc.) with the concessive “pour- tant” [however] is that he disapproves of the expense to which the Roman emperors went to put on those shows, since the people had to pay for them in the end. And therein lies a mirroring reflection at work in both symme- tries, Duval’s and my own. Duval does not go into this, but it fits with the parallel between the Amerindians and the Romans that is at the heart of the symmetry he reveals. Montaigne first applies his criticism to the expense of Roman triumphs: “il semble aus subjects, spectateurs de ces triomphes, qu’on leur faict montre de leurs propres richesses, & qu’on les festoye à leurs despens” [it seems to the subjects, spectators of these triumphs, that they are given a display of their own riches, and entertained at their own expense] (III: 6, 902–3b, DM 395r–95v; 688). Only private citizens have the right to be generous and not kings, for “un Roy n’a rien proprement sien, il se doibt soy-mesmes à autruy” [a king has nothing that is properly his own; he owes his very self to others] (III: 6, 903b, DM 395v; 689). In his criticism of the expense of public spectacles he quotes Cicero: “Pecuniarum translatio a justis dominis ad alienos non debet liberalis videri” [The transfer of money from its rightful owners to strangers should not be regarded as liberality] (III: 6, 905c; 690). But he has the Amerindians make the same complaint that he imagines the Roman people making about the triumphs and that he makes on his own about the spectacles, and in doing so sets up a parallel between the Roman emperors so lavish with the public treasury and the Roman pontiff who so generously allotted part of the New World to Portugal and part of it to Spain. The Spanish had told the inhabitants that they came in peace, sent by the King of Castille, “auquel le Pape, representant Dieu en terre, avoit donné la principauté de toutes les Indes” [to whom the Pope, representing God on earth, had given the principality of all the Indies]. The Americans replied that their king must be indigent and needy, “& celuy qui luy avoit faict cette distribution, homme aymant dissention, d’aller donner à un tiers, chose qui n’estoit pas sienne” [and he who had awarded their country to him must be a man fond of dissension, to go and give another person something that was not his] (III: 6, 911b, DM 399v; 695). As with the Roman emperors, it was not his to give. In the larger symmetry, Montaigne in “De l’art de conferer” makes a similar observation in a different context: “aus disputes & conferences, tous les mots qui nous semblent bons, ne doivent pas incontinent estre acceptez. III. Book Three 221 La plus part des hommes sont riches d’une suffisance estrangere” [in arguments and discussions not all the words that seem good to us should be accepted immediately. Most men are rich with a borrowed capacity] (III: 8, 936b, DM 412r; 715*). In a post-1588 addition to this passage, he makes it clear that he is talking about borrowing and says he is guilty of it himself: “Qu’on ne tient pas tout ce qu’on emprunte, à l’adventure se pourra il verifier par moy mesme” [That we do not possess all we borrow may perhaps be verified in myself ] (III: 8, 936c; 715). Indeed it may be verified at this very moment, for although on the surface he is alluding to his borrowing from other authors he is in a less obvious way borrowing from himself, for the motif of being rich with something that is not one’s own had already appeared, as we have just seen, in “Des coches.” In fact, it appeared there twice. The Roman emperors showed their largesse with money not their own; the Pope gave away lands that were not his to give. And Montaigne was borrowing from himself the second time he brought that up (when what the Amerindians said of the Pope echoed what he said of emperors), as he is borrowing again now. That borrowing continues when he says in “De l’art de conferer” that in judging a writer “il faut sçavoir ce qui est sien, & ce qui ne l’est point” [we must know what is his and what is not] (III: 8, 940b, DM 414r; 718), words that almost seem borrowed from what the Americans said of the Pope, that he was giving away “chose qui n’estoit pas sienne” [something that was not his]. Montaigne is the master of the metafictional moment, making borrow- ing itself something borrowed—as he committed theft upon himself in the intersection of III: 12 and III: 2. The assertion that most men are “riches d’une suffisance estrangere” [rich with a borrowed capacity] is “borrowed” in this sense from what he wrote of the Roman triumphs, that they bor- rowed their “richesses” from the “richesses” of the public to whom they were displayed: “il semble aus subjects, spectateurs de ces triomphes, qu’on leur faict montre de leurs propres richesses” [it seems to the subjects, spectators of these triumphs, that they are given a display of their own riches]. And then, in a post-1588 addition to “De l’art de conferer,” he borrows from those tri- umphs themselves, in the only other appearance in Book III of the word in that sense (a victor’s parade through the streets of ancient Rome): “le peuple Romain a souvent refusé le triomphe à des grandes et tres utiles victoires par ce que la conduite du chef ne respondoit point à son bonheur” [the Roman people often refused a triumph for great and very profitable victories because the conduct of the leader did not correspond to his good luck] (III: 8, 933c; 712). Jules Brody makes two interesting points in his study of “De l’art de 222 III. Book Three conferer”10 that are even more interesting when we consider them in the con- text of that chapter’s connections with “Des coches”: (1) “The attentive reader will not be slow to notice that this essay is sat- urated with passages where the art de conférer is modeled on one-on-one combat, whether in earnest or for sport” (77). Indeed, Montaigne is talking not so much about conversation as about debate, and he consistently casts it as a duel.11 For example: “Si je confere avec une ame forte et un roide jous- teur, il me presse les flancs, me pique à gauche et à dextre” [If I discuss with a strong mind and a stiff jouster, he presses on my flanks, prods me right and left] (III: 8, 923b; 764). Now in “Des coches” he recounts how both the Peruvians and the Mexicans were defeated in battle by the conquista- dors, but he also narrates an encounter that took the form of a debate, and this one the Americans won. It is the passage alluded to earlier, in which the native inhabitants refuted what the invaders had to say point by point: if the invaders were peaceable, they sure didn’t look it; as for their king, he must be indigent to be asking them for tribute; as for the man who claimed to have given them this land (the Pope), he was being generous with what wasn’t his; as for worshipping the invaders’ god, they were happy with the religion they had, and were not in the habit of taking advice from strangers (III: 6, 911b, DM 399v–400r; 695). And so forth. The Spanish went away empty-handed. It is as if the defenders won the debate—they certainly out talked the enemy. (2) Brody notes that the substantial post-1588 addition to “De l’art de conferer” that comes just after “Stercus cuique suum bene olet” [Every man likes the smell of his own dung] (III: 8, 929b; 709) begins with “Nos yeux ne voient rien en derriere” [Our eyes see nothing behind us], develops the point that we criticize others for faults of which we are even more guilty, and concludes with Socrates saying that if a man, his son, and a stranger were guilty of some violent wrongdoing, he should present himself to the executioner, and then his son, and then the stranger. He notes as well that the reference to Socrates is immediately preceded by a return to the scato- logical theme: “Si nous avions bon nez, nostre ordure nous devroit plus puir d’autant qu’elle est nostre” [If we had a good nose, our excrement ought to 10. “Entre l’écrit et l’oral: De l’art de conférer (III, 8),” in his book Nouvelles lectures de Montaigne (Paris: Honoré Champion, 1994): 73–104. 11. As Yves Delègue explains, a “conference” in the sense Montaigne understands it “is a combat, a ‘dispute’ in the Latin sense of the term and not a friendly ‘civil conversation.’” On p. 32n of “De l’art de conferer (III, 8) ou de la ‘sottise,’” Bulletin de la Société des Amis de Montaigne 8: 29–30 (January–June 2003): 29–42. III. Book Three 223 stink worse to us inasmuch as it is our own] (III: 8, 930c; 710), and that this is eventually followed by another Latin quotation that is preceded by another allusion to Socrates: [C] Et les foibles, dict Socrates, corrompent la dignité de la philoso- phie en la maniant. Elle paroist et inutile et vicieuse quand elle est mal estuyée. [B] Voilà comment ils se gastent et affolent, Humani qualis simulator simius oris, Quem puer arridens pretioso stamine serum Velavit, nudàsque nates ac terga reliquit, Ludibrium mensis. [(C) And the weak ones, says Socrates, corrupt the dignity of phi- losophy in handling it. It appears both useless and harmful when it is badly encased. (B) This is how they spoil themselves and make fools of themselves, Just like an ape, man’s mimic, whom in jest A prankish boy in silken clothes has dressed, And left his buttocks and his backside bare, To give the guests a laugh.] (III: 8, 932bc; 711) Brody from this quite reasonably observes: “These two Latin quotations’ ret- roactive focus on the word ‘derrière’ is enriched by a final trait they have in common: they are both connected, by the most curious of paradoxes, to the image and the moral presence of Socrates” (90). Reading that chapter together with “Des coches,” however, would show that there too Montaigne focuses on Socrates and what is behind him: Alcibiades recite de Socrates, son compagnon d’armes: je le trouvay (faict- il) apres la route de nostre armée, luy & Lachez, des derniers entre les fuy- ans.  .  .  . Je remerquay premierement, combien il montroit d’avisement & de resolution, au pris de Lachez, & puis la braverie de son marcher, nul- lement different du sien ordinaire: sa veue ferme & reglée, considerant & jugeant ce qui se passoit autour de luy, regardant tantost les uns, tantost les autres, amis & ennemis, d’une façon, qui encourageoit les uns, & signifioit aux autres, qu’il estoit pour vendre bien cher son sang & sa vie, à qui essay- eroit de la luy oster. 224 III. Book Three [Alciabades reports of Socrates, his comrade in arms: “I found him,” he says, “after the rout of our army, him and Laches, among the last of the fugitives. . . . I noticed first how much presence of mind and resolution he showed compared with Laches; and then the boldness of his walk, no differ- ent from his ordinary one, his firm and steady gaze, considering and judg- ing what was going on around him, looking now at one side, now the other, friends and enemies, in a way that encouraged the former and signified to the latter that he was a man to sell his blood and his life very dear to any- one who should try to take them away.”] (III: 6, 899–900b, DM 394r; 686) The enemy was right behind him, for he was among the last to retreat. And he looked behind him as well as ahead: “regardant tantost les uns, tantost les autres, amis & ennemis,” giving encouraging looks to his comrades and menacing ones to the foe. Socrates in “Des coches” is just the opposite of the rest of us mortals in “De l’art de conferer,” whose “yeux ne voient rien en derriere” [eyes see nothing behind us], for he could indeed see, and even cast a significant gaze. In a supremely metafictional (because self-naming) moment, Montaigne in that post-1588 addition to “De l’art de conferer” to which Brody calls our attention—“Nos yeux ne voient rien en derriere” [Our eyes see nothing behind us] (III: 8, 929c; 709)—dares us to do precisely what he complains we are unable to do: to look back . . . to look back to where he says the same thing, that we don’t have the ability to look back, in “Des coches”: “Je crains que nostre cognoissance soit foible en tous sens, nous ne voyons ny gueres loin, ny guere arriere” [I fear that our knowledge is weak in every direction; we do not see very far ahead or very far behind ] (III: 6, 907b, DM 397v; 692).12 Appropriately, in “Des coches” we not only cannot look back; we cannot look forward either. If we could look forward, as far as the parallel passage in “De l’art de conferer,” we would feel a shock of recognition. As I have been trying to show, Montaigne wants us to look both forward and back as we read the Essays. He has given us hundreds of clues about what to look for. 12. Brody cites and comments on this passage (as well as on Socrates’s retreat) in an illuminating reading of “Des coches” but of course has no inclination to see its connection to the parallel state- ment in “De l’art de conferer” (on p. 66 of “Montaigne, Des coches (III: 6), anatomie d’une lecture ‘philologique,’” in the Bulletin de la Société des Amis de Montaigne 7: 31–32 (July–December 2003): 47–75. 225 We recall that “De l’amitié” (I: 28), which immediately precedes the central chapter of Book One and serves to introduce it, begins with an account of how an artist decorated the walls of Montaigne’s chateau with a noble example of his best work in the middle of each one, and filled the surrounding space with grotesques. We recall as well that he likens his Essays to those symmetrical decorations and said that since he could produce noth- ing good enough to put in the middle he would put his departed friend Etienne de la Boétie’s Discours de la servitude volontaire there instead. Until the last pages of I: 28 he leads us to believe that the chapter to follow this one would be that text, and that it would form the center of his book. But just before the end something odd occurs. Immediately after he invites us to read the Discours—“Mais oions un peu parler ce garson de dixhuict ans” [But let us listen a little to this eighteen-year-old boy speak] (I: 28: 194a, DM 273r; 144*)—a line of three asterisks appears (in the 1580 edition), followed by the statement that because he has discovered that the Discours i v JOurneY tO tHe Center OF tHe BOOk “Vingt et neuf sonnets d’Estienne de la Boetie” [Twenty- nine sonnets of Estienne de La Boétie] (I: 29), “De la liberté de conscience” [Of freedom of conscience] (II: 19), and “De l’incommodité de la grandeur” [Of the inconve- nience of greatness] (III: 7). 226 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book has already been published, and with malign intent, “je me suis dedit de le loger icy” [I have renounced placing it here] (I: 28, 194a, DM 273; 144*). He was alluding to certain Protestants, who had indeed published some of the Discours in 1574, and then all of it in 1576, bound together with some really incendiary pamphlets, as an incitement to murder the French Catholic king. He then devotes about two hundred words to exculpating La Boétie from any Protestant or regicidal leanings, after which he informs us that he has just received twenty-nine sonnets by the same author, a manuscript of whose existence he was apparently unaware—for the man who sent them had found them by chance (“par fortune”) among some papers—and that he will substitute them for the Discours. It would appear that for at least a brief moment—the time represented perhaps by the three asterisks, and the words of exculpation—he was going to leave the place vacant, for he says that the sonnets had only just come into his possession. In other words, if Poiferré had only just sent them, it would seem that they arrived after he had already decided not to publish the Discours, and clearly he wishes us to believe that he arrived at the decision to remove it independently of the sonnets’ coming to light. If the sonnets showed up after Montaigne had decided, and then reneged, on having the Discours be the middle, was that middle going to be the twenty-ninth chapter anyway—the middle of fifty-seven? And how do we account for the fact that Montaigne pretends he has just discovered that the Protestants kidnapped the Discours when he must have known about it for four years if not six? Villey, who tried to date every chapter, was hard put to account for this contradiction without suggesting that “De l’amitié” was an incoherent piece of work: “We can therefore say, without being able to be more precise, that the first part is anterior to 1576, the second posterior to that date” (Villey’s edition of the Essais, 183). In other words, Montaigne didn’t bother to correct the first part of the chapter to bring it in line with the second—or more importantly, with the truth. Richard Regosin put the question this way: “Why did he choose not to modify his opening remarks by explaining his change of mind? . . . Clearly the impact on the reader of this unrealized expectation”—that the Discours de la servitude volontaire would soon appear—“derives from the internal dis- position of the essay, for the parallel between its culmination in the absence of both the friend and his work is too striking to be gratuitous.”1 Yves Delègue asks the same question: “This change of stage directions surprises: the pirated edition of the Contre Un took place in 1574, in part, and then in 1. Richard Regosin, The Matter of My Book: Montaigne’s Essais as the Book of the Self (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1977), 19–20. IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 227 1576, in totality. Why does Montaigne pretend to discover the theft at the last minute? Why does he keep the preamble where he defines his project, instead of deleting or modifying it?” (Montaigne et la mauvaise foi, 60).2 François Rigolot casts doubt as well on Montaigne’s assertion that he was intending to put the Discours there: Montaigne decided to honor his friend’s memory by placing this booklet in the best spot . . . of his first volume of essays. Or, rather, this is what he says he decided to do, borrowing a “rich, artistic picture” from La Boétie and filling the space around it with poor, artless “grotesques,” namely his “essays.”  .  .  . For the “masterpiece in the center” simile does not seem to function too well when we look closely at the text. . . . Montaigne tells us that La Boétie wrote his political discourse “par maniere d’essay.” . . . This is indeed a curious way to refer to the “masterpiece.”3 Not only does the promise to give us the Discours coexist with the dec- laration “je me suis dédit de le loger icy,” but even in the first part of the chapter, when he is still making that promise, he lets slip that the sonnets are coming: “Sous céte parfaicte amitié ces affections volages ont autrefois trouvé place ches moy: affin que je ne parle de luy, qui n’en confesse que trop par ses vers” [Beneath this perfect friendship those fleeting affections have sometimes found a place in me, not to speak of him, who confesses only too many of them in his verses] (I: 28, 186a, DM 260; 137*). Balsamo et al. take note of the contradiction: “Montaigne is already alluding here to the twenty-nine love sonnets . . . yet he was claiming a few pages earlier that he was going to give us the Discours de la servitude volontaire” (1413). Stranger still, in the 1588 edition Montaigne would change “ses vers” [his verses] to “ces vers” [these verses], making it even clearer that he was alluding to the poems he was about to present even though at this point in the chapter he was still pretending that he was about to present the Discours.4 2. The author of a recent book on Montaigne for the general reader, alluding to the seeming awkwardness of the last-minute replacement of the Discours by the sonnets and then to the eventual disappearance of the latter, remarks: “One entire chapter, number 29 in Book I, became a double dele- tion: a ragged stub or hole which Montaigne deliberately refused to disguise. He even drew attention to its frayed edges. It is odd behavior, and has inspired a lot of speculation. Was Montaigne simply adding and subtracting material in a fluster, without bothering to tidy up the results, or was he trying to alert us to something?” Sarah Blakewell, How to Live: Or, a Life of Montaigne in One Question and Twenty Attempts at an Answer (New York: Other Press, 2010), 99. 3. Pp. 152–53 of François Rigolot, “Montaigne’s Purloined Letters,” in Yale French Studies 64: 145–66. 4. Incomprehensibly, although the Villey edition, reflecting the 1588 change, has “ces” the Uni- versity of Chicago on-line text at http://www.lib.uchicago.edu/efts/ARTFL/projects/montaigne/index. 228 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book Although the sonnets of I: 29 appeared in all editions of the Essais pub- lished in his lifetime, Montaigne crossed them out on the Bordeaux Copy and wrote “Ces vers se voient ailleurs” [These verses may be seen elsewhere] (I: 29, 196c; 145). Where else could they have been seen (apart from the earlier editions)? Marie de Gournay replaced that statement by this one: “Ces vingt neuf sonnetz d’Estienne de la Boëtie qui estoient mis en ce lieu ont esté imprimez avec ses oeuvres” [These twenty-nine sonnets of Estienne de la Boëtie which had been put in this place have been printed with his works] (Balsamo et al., 202). Balsamo et al. provide this note: “Mlle de Gour nay is perhaps alluding to the publication of the Historique description du solitaire et sauvage pays de Médoc, published in 1593 in Bordeaux by S. Millanges, which may have included these twenty-nine sonnets, but which today is lost (a copy was supposedly seen in 1765 in abbé Desbiey’s library)” (1420). Until recently, scholars of Montaigne have almost ignored them, or have been more interested in La Boétie as the author of the Discours de la servitude volontaire. The sonnets are nowhere to be found in Pierre Villey’s otherwise careful edition of the Essais, nor were they translated by either Donald Frame nor M. A. Screech.5 Neither Donald Frame nor M. A. Screech translate them; in fact they have to my knowledge never appeared in English except once, in an out-of-print translation by Louis How in 1915.6 Their relative neglect is not surprising since (1) they are apparently not by the author of the Essays, (2) Montaigne leads us to believe that they were his second choice for I: 29, and (3) he marked them out on the Bordeaux Copy. In addition, as Philippe Desan points out, Montaigne never corrected what seems to have been a printing error dating from the first edition that on the title page of I: 29 numbered that chapter as the “vinthuitiesme” [twenty- eighth] (DM 275). In that same 1580 edition, the heading for “De la mode- ration” (I: 30) gave it as the “vintneufiesme” (DM 293) and “Des cannibales” html has “ses”—even though the same site’s photograph of the relevant page from the Bordeaux Copy (the 1588 edition) clearly shows “ces.” Balsamo et al. give “ses,” with no explanation, and no indication of the changes this word underwent. 5. Studies of the sonnets may be found in Étienne de La Boétie: Sage révolutionnaire et poète perigourdin. Actes du Colloque International, Duke University 1999 (Paris: Honoré Champion, 2004). Other studies include: André Gendre, “Les 29 sonnets d’Estienne de La Boétie publiés dans les Essais de Montaigne” and Gabriel-André Pérouse, “Montaigne, son lecteur et les 29 sonnets d’Estienne de La Boétie,” Montaigne Studies 6. 1–2 (October 1999): 45–60, 77–86; Michel Magnien, “De l’hyperbole à l’ellipse: Montaigne face aux sonnets de La Boétie,” Montaigne Studies 2.1 (September 1990): 7–25; Patrick Henry, “Ces vers se voient ailleurs,” Bulletin de la Société des Amis de Montaigne 3–4 (1980): 77–80; and Jeffrey Mehlman, “La Boétie’s Montaigne,” Oxford Literary Review 4 (1979): 45–61. 6. Montaigne’s Essay on Friendship, and XXIX Sonnets by Estienne de La Boétie, tr. Louis How (Bos- ton: Houghton Mifflin, 1915). I have also translated them, in Freedom over Servitude: Montaigne, La Boétie, and On Voluntary Servitude, ed. David Lewis Schaefer (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press, 1998), 223–35. IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 229 (I: 31) as the “trentieme” [thirtieth] (DM 298). The error finally stopped at that point, “Qu’il faut sobrement se mesler de juger des ordonnances divines” being correctly numbered as the “trentedeuxieme” [thirty-second] (DM 329). On the corresponding chapter title pages of the 1582 edition the error is cor- rected for I: 30 and I: 31 but not for I: 29. That error persists in the 1588 edition. Desan concludes that this “casts a doubt on the thesis that makes of chapter 29 the center or the heart of the first book of the Essais.”7 Yet I: 29 is correctly listed in the table of contents in every edition during Montaigne’s lifetime (even I: 30 and I: 31 were correctly numbered there in 1580). Desan dismisses the significance of the table of contents: As for the famous table of contents invoked by critics, it was at that time, as it is today, created after the printing of the rest of the book. A Renais- sance author furnished neither a table of contents, nor an index, nor a glos- sary. Those paratextual tools were entirely created by the printer-booksellers. One should not grant too much importance to the numbering followed in the table of contents. (54) This is in part a straw-man argument: we aren’t talking about indexes or glos- saries. And to argue that Montaigne did not draw up the table of contents (or at least did not supply its page numbers) is not the same as to prove that he didn’t know there were tables of contents in his books and that they gave I: 29 as I: 29. Yet there is definitely something strange going on, just as strange as Mon- taigne pretending he was going to give his reader the Discours de la servitude volontaire when he knew he wasn’t. Book One’s 29th chapter both is (in the tables of contents) and isn’t (on the chapter’s title page) there. The same is true of the sonnets, which were (he claims) neither his first choice nor his last (because he marked them out of the Bordeaux Copy). At first they were not yet there, then they were, and then they were there no longer. Their eventual disappearance is, curiously, anticipated by their own nar- rative. For the poet, the speaker of the poems, wants at one moment to make their own center disappear. Although the sequence for the most part expresses a lover’s praise for his beloved, the two central sonnets, 14 and 15, do not. In them he charges his beloved with infidelity. In sonnet 16 he retracts his accusation and tries to make amends (sonnets 16–20 constituting a palinode) for his outburst.8 7. Philippe Desan, Montaigne dans tous ses états (Fasano, Italy: Schena editore, 2001), 43. 8. An outburst similar to the vituperative “Chanson” included among those Montaigne pub- lished in 1571. In sonnet 16 of the 29, the speaker says “je me desdiray” of the two offending sonnets 230 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 14 O coeur leger, o courage mal seur, Penses tu plus que souffrir je te puisse? O bonté creuze, o couverte malice, Traitre beauté, venimeuse doulceur. Tu estois donc tousjours soeur de ta soeur? Et moy trop simple il failloit que j’en fisse L’essay sur moy? & que tard j’entendisse Ton parler double & tes chantz de chasseur? Depuis le jour que j’ay prins à t’aimer, J’eusse vaincu les vagues de la mer. Qu’est ce meshuy que je pourrois attendre? Comment de toy pourrois j’estre content? Qui apprendra ton coeur d’estre constant, Puis que le mien ne le luy peut aprendre? 15 Ce n’est pas moy que l’on abuze ainsi: Qu’à quelque enfant ses ruzes on emploie, Qui n’a nul goust, qui n’entend rien qu’il oye: Je sçay aymer, je sçay hayr aussi. Contente toi de m’avoir jusqu’ici Fermé les yeux, il est temps que j’y voie: Et que meshui, las & honteux je soye D’avoir mal mis mon temps & mon souci. Osereois tu m’ayant ainsi traicté Parler à moi jamais de fermeté? Tu prendz plaisir à ma douleur extreme: Tu me deffends de sentir mon tourment: Et si veux bien que je meure en t’aimant. Si je ne sens, commant veux tu que j’aime? 16 O l’ai je dict? helas l’ai je songé? Ou si pour vrai j’ai dict blaspheme telle? Ça faulce langue, il faut que l’honneur d’elle 14 and 15; in the “Chanson” he says he will “[se] desdire” of all the poems he had previously written in praise of the beloved. Unsaying was already a theme in La Boétie’s oeuvre, and Montaigne would have known that. Oeuvres complètes d’Estienne de La Boétie, ed. Louis Desgraves (Bordeaux: William Blake, 1991), vol. 2, 114. IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 231 De moi, par moi, desus moi, soit vangé. Mon coeur chez toi, O madame, est logé: Là donne lui quelque geine nouvelle: Fis lui souffrir quelque peine cruelle: Fais, fais lui tout, fors lui donner congé. Or seras tu (je le sçais) trop humaine, Et ne pourras longuement voir ma peine. Mais un tel faict, faut il qu’il se pardonne? A tout le moings hault je me desdiray De mes sonnetz, & me desmentiray, Pour ces deux faux, cinq cent vrais je t’en donne. [14 O fickle heart! O uncertain virtue! Do you imagine that I could bear more? O hollow kindness! O covert malice, Treasonous beauty, sweetness envenomed! And so you were your sister’s sister still? And I, too simple, had to try it out Upon myself, and all too late would hear Your double speech and your songs of the hunt? Since the day that I started to love you I would have conquered the waves of the sea, But from now on what can I hope to gain? How could I ever be happy with you? Who could ever teach your heart constancy, When mine was such a failure at that task? 15 I’m not a man to suffer such abuse— Try out those ruses on some ignorant child, Who, artless, takes in nothing that he hears. I know how to love, I know how to hate. Content yourself with having until now Kept shut my eyes, for it is time I saw: And time as well, alas, that I, in shame, Regret such ill-spent use of time and care. Would you dare then, in light of what you’ve done, Entreat me now to have a steadfast heart? My bitter sorrow seems to you delight. 232 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book You even tell me not to feel my pain, And then want me to die of loving you. If I can’t feel, why think you I could love? 16 Did I say that? Alas! Was it a dream? Or did in fact I speak such blasphemy? For that, false tongue, my lady’s honor must Be by me, through me, over me, avenged. My heart, belovèd, within you is lodged. There find some novel torture to inflict; Make it to suffer cruelly some pain; Do, do unto it all save give it rest. But you will be (I know this) too humane, Unable long to watch my suffering. But can a crime like mine seek clemency? The least that I can do is to unsay These guilty sonnets, which I’ll now recant: For these two false I’ll write five hundred true.] In microcosm, the sonnets predict their own demise: “je me desdiray / De mes sonnetz” [I will unsay / My sonnets]. Montaigne unsaid the sonnets on the Bordeaux Copy, as he literally unsaid the Discours they replaced in writ- ing “je me suis dedit de le loger icy” (I: 28, 194a, DM 273; 144). He may even have toyed with the idea of repeating in the middle of the sonnets the same error he allowed to persist in the numbering of his central chapter, for in the 1582 edition, which corrected so many of the printer’s errors of the first, sonnet XIIII, correctly numbered that way in 1580, becomes a second sonnet XIII (1582, 173). It became sonnet XIIII again in 1588. The poet’s attempt at erasure in sonnet 16 was anticipated in a differ- ent context in sonnet 8: “Maulgré moy je t’escris, maulgré moy je t’efface” [Despite myself I write you, despite myself I efface you] (line 5). He was speaking of his desire to name his beloved before the world: Quand viendra ce jour la, que ton nom au vray passe Par France, dans mes vers? combien & quantesfois S’en empresse mon coeur, s’en demangent mes doits? Souvent dans mes escris de soy mesme il prend place. [When will that day come, when your name will truly pass Through France, in my verse? How often and how much IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 233 Does my heart race ahead, my fingers itch to write? Many times in my verse on its own it appears.] (sonnet 8, lines 1–4)9 But “Maulgré moy je t’escris, maulgré moy je t’efface” is also what Montaigne could have been saying to his late friend, who on his death bed famously begged him “de luy donner une place” [to give him a place]. And when Montaigne seemed not to understand: “mon frere, me refusez-vous doncques une place?” [my brother, are you then refusing me a place?].10 He gave him a place, but then he took it away. The poet in sonnet 16 promises to write five hundred more to recant the preceding two; he actually writes five, this one and the four that follow. They constitute a palinode, anticipated by an allusion in sonnet 9 to the locus clas- sicus of the genre, Stesichorus’ recantation of his attack on Helen: Mesme race porta l’amitié souveraine Des bons jumeaux, desquelz l’un à l’autre despart Du ciel & de l’enfer la moitié de sa part, Et l’amour diffamé de la trop belle Heleine. [From the same race sprang forth the sovereign friendship Of the good twins of whom each to the other gave Of heaven and of hell the half of his portion; And the slandered love of the too beauteous Helen.] (sonnet 9, lines 11–14) The twins are Castor and Pollux, who avenged their sister Helen by blinding Stesichorus for writing that Helen had been a willing abductee. Socrates tells that story in the Phaedrus: Now for such as offend in speaking of gods and heroes there is an ancient mode of purification, which was known to Stesichorus, though not to Homer. When Stesichorus lost the sight of his eyes because of his defama- 9. Those who believe that Montaigne’s friendship with La Boétie had a homosexual component might find that fourth line intriguing in light of the fact that four out of the six times his name is writ- ten in the Essays it is spelled la Boitie, notably in “De l’amitié” (183a; also: I: 26, 156b; II: 17, 659a; III: 12, 1057c) combined with Montaigne’s comment on the proverb “celuy-là ne cognoit pas Venus en sa parfaicte douceur qui n’a couché avec la boiteuse” [he does not know Venus in her perfect sweetness who has not lain with a cripple] to the effect that it “se dict des masles comme des femelles” [is said of males as well as females] (III: 11, 1033b, DM 458; 791). 10. Letter from Montaigne to his father recounting the death of La Boétie. Montaigne, Oeuvres complètes, ed. Albert Thibaudet and Maurice Rat (Paris: Gallimard / Pléiade, 1962), 1359. 234 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book tion of Helen, he was not, like Homer, at a loss to know why. As a true art- ist he understood the reason, and promptly wrote the lines: False, false the tale, Thou never didst sail in the well-decked ships Nor come to the towers of Troy. And after finishing the composition of his so-called palinode he straightway recovered his sight.11 In The Republic, Socrates explains how Stesichorus’ palinode differed from his first version: it wasn’t Helen but her phantom (an eidolon that looked just like her) that went off to Troy in the arms of a man who was not her husband: “Stesichorus says the wraith of Helen was fought for at Troy through igno- rance of the truth” (814; 586bc). The brothers’ “amitié souveraine” recalls another, the one between Montaigne and La Boétie, described in the same terms in “De l’amitié”: “cette souveraine et maistresse amitié ” [this sovereign and masterful friendship] (I: 28, 190b; 140). The formulation “souveraine [ . . . ] amitié” appears nowhere else in the Essays. Its presence here could well have been influenced by its appearance in the sonnet, since it comes from 1588. But an even more striking anticipatory echo had already been in the chapter since 1580: “Nous estions à moitié de tout. Il me semble que je luy desrobe sa part . . . il me semble n’estre plus qu’à demy” [We went halves in everything. It seems to me that I am robbing him of his share . . . only half of me seems to be alive now] (I: 28, 193a, DM 271–72; 143). Montaigne is describing himself and his friend in the language La Boétie had used in sonnet 9, as the brothers who shared “Du ciel & de l’enfer la moitié de sa part” [Of heaven and of hell the half of his share]. Even though this passage appears when Montaigne is still leading the reader to believe that he is about to present the Discours de la servitude volontaire, before he receives the son- nets from Poiferré, it is evident that he had already read sonnet 9 and had decided to borrow the language in which it alludes to Castor and Pollux. The mention in both I: 28 and sonnet 9 of half portions alludes to the pecu- liar way the twins shared their immortality. Originally Castor was mortal and Pollux immortal. Castor died in battle; his brother wept because, being deathless, he could not follow him to Hades. Touched by such devotion, Zeus allowed Pollux to share his immortality with Castor, each twin living 11. The Collected Dialogues of Plato, ed. Edith Hamilton and Huntington Cairns (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1961), 490 (243ab). IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 235 on alternate days.12 In describing his friendship with La Boétie in “De la vanité,” Montaigne enlarges this parallel in saying that they were more fully friends when they were not in the same place at the same time, as was the case with the Dioscuri: “Nous remplissions mieux et estandions la possession de la vie en nous separant : il vivoit, il jouissoit, il voyoit pour moy, et moy pour luy, autant plainement que s’il y eust esté.  .  .  . La separation du lieu rendoit la conjonction de nos volontez plus riche” [We filled and extended our possession of life better by separating: he lived, he enjoyed, he saw for me, and I for him, as fully as if he had been there. . . . Separation in space made the conjunction of our wills richer] (III: 9, 977b; 746–47). Françoise Charpentier suggests that Montaigne might have already had the sonnets in hand before he received a copy of them from Poiferré. In introducing them in I: 29, he addresses Madame de Grammont, “la belle Corisande” (later the mistress of Henri de Navarre), and promises he will some day whisper in her ear who it was they were written for. He tells her that the 29 were written earlier and are hotter (“plus bouillant”) than the 25, which La Boétie wrote for his wife, Marguerite de Carle, and which are redolent of a certain “froideur maritale” [marital coolness] (I: 29, 196a, DM 277; 145). Charpentier comments: “Might Montaigne not have had in his possession and kept secret for the sake of decency, or out of regard for Mar- guerite de Carle, this collection of sonnets, whether M. de Poiferré later gave him a copy or not?”13 She then advances the hypothesis that the 29 might have been written after La Boétie married Marguerite de Carle, and recount an adulterous affair carried out during the marriage. All the more reason, she adds, for Montaigne to have kept them out of the 1571 collection of his friend’s poems. Whether he had them earlier or not, we already saw him signaling they were in his possession when he alluded to them as “ses vers” (and in 1588 as “ces vers”) near the beginning of “De l’amitié.” His repeating the terms of sonnet 9 in those two other passages of “De l’amitié” not only signals their existence but is evidence of the sonnets’ presence in the Essays beyond their appearance in I: 29. The immortality-sharing twins figure in the 25 sonnets too. When his beloved falls gravely ill, the poet asks heaven the favor of dying with her: 12. New Larousse Encyclopedia of Mythology, tr. Richard Aldington and Delano Ames (New York: Hamlyn, 1959), 190. 13. Françoise Charpentier, “Les poésies françaises d’Étienne de La Boétie,” in Étienne de La Boétie: Sage révolutionnaire et poète perigourdin. Actes du Colloque International, Duke University 1999 (Paris: Honoré Champion, 2004), 107–8. 236 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book Ou s’il est, ce qu’on dit des deux freres d’Helene, Que l’un pour l’autre au ciel, & là bas se promene, Or accomplissez moy une pareille envie. Ayez, ayez de moy, ayez quelque pitié, Laissez nous, en l’honneur de ma forte amitié, Moy mourir de sa mort, ell’ vivre de ma vie. [Or if it is true what they say of Helen’s two brothers, That one for the other in heaven and down below wanders, Then fulfill a similar desire for me. Have some pity on me. Allow us, in honor of my strong love, That I die of her death, and she live with my life.] (sonnet 3, lines 9–14; Desgraves, vol. 2, 117) Montaigne, even if he didn’t know the 29 sonnets (though it appears he did), was familiar with the 25, since he published them in 1571. So he would have been familiar with the Dioscuri motif in La Boétie. But the connection between the twins as they are evoked in the 29 sonnets and Montaigne’s text (that is, “De l’amitié”) is stronger than that between their presence in the 25 and that text (except perhaps for the fact that in the 25 they parallel a pair of lovers, as Montaigne and La Boétie may have been), for it is based on the words themselves: “l’amitié souveraine” and “la moitié de sa part.” In the 29 sonnets, Castor and Pollux find an explicit parallel in the Dor- dogne and the Vézère, two rivers of contrasting character to which the poet likens his beloved and her sister. Lacking her permission to name her pub- licly, he decides that “tu seras ma Dourdouigne” [you will be my Dordogne] (sonnet 8, line 10). In sonnet 10, however, we see that these siblings are far from similar: Or ne charge donc rien de ta soeur infidele, De Vesere ta soeur: elle va s’escartant Toujours flotant mal seure, en son cours inconstant. Voy tu comme à leur gré les vans se joüent d’elle? Et ne te repent point pour droict de ton aisnage D’avoir des-jà choisi la constance en partage. Mesme race porta l’aimité souveraine Des bons jumeaux. . . .  IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 237 [Now don’t reproach your sister, faithless though she be, Vézère your sister river: Wandering she goes, Flowing never steady in her inconstant course. Can you see how the winds play with her at their whim? And never regret, as the right of the elder, Having picked constancy for your inheritance. From the same race sprang forth the sovereign friendship Of the good twins. . . . ] (sonnet 10, lines 5–12) This explains the complaint the poet expresses in sonnet 14: “Tu estois donc tousjours soeur de ta soeur?” [And so you were your sister’s sister still?].14 The Dordogne proves to be just as inconstant as the Vézère. Both rivers are part of a landscape shared by La Boétie and Montaigne. La Boétie’s native Sarlat lies between the Dordogne and the Vézère; downstream, to the west, Montaigne’s château is located just north of the Dordogne, some distance after the Vézère has joined forces with it. More intriguingly, perhaps, in “Des cannibales” (I: 31), at two chapters’ distance from the sonnets, what for La Boétie was “ma Dourdouigne” becomes for Montaigne “ma riviere de Dordoigne” [my river Dordogne] (I: 31, 204b; 151*): Quand je considere l’impression que ma riviere de Dordoigne faict de mon temps vers la rive droicte de sa descente, et qu’en vingt ans elle a tant gai- gné, et desrobé le fondement à plusieurs bastimens, je vois bien que c’est une agitation extraordinaire: car, si elle fut tousjours allée ce train, ou deut aller à l’advenir, la figure du monde seroit renversée. Mais il leur prend des changements: tantost elles s’espendent d’un costé, tantost d’un autre; tan- tost elles se contiennent. [When I consider the inroads that my Dordogne river is making in my lifetime into the right bank in its descent, and that in twenty years it has gained so much ground and stolen away the foundations of several build- ings, I clearly see that this is an extraordinary disturbance; for if it had always gone at this rate, or was to do in the future, the face of the world would be turned topsy-turvy. But rivers are subject to changes: now they overflow in one direction, now in another, now they keep to their course.] (I: 31, 204B; 151*) 14. Erroneously printed as “seur de ta soeur” in 1580 and 1582, it was corrected to “soeur de ta soeur” in 1588. 238 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book The Dordogne, Montaigne is saying, is inconstant, like any river. It will not always be encroaching on the bank it is attacking now. Sometimes a river will eat away at its right bank, sometimes at its left, sometimes neither. Both Montaigne and La Boétie are saying almost the same thing, that the Dor- dogne is as inconstant as another river. The only difference is that La Boétie likens its inconstancy to only one other, the Vézère, while Montaigne likens it to all others. The Dordogne makes another appearance in the Essays, in the chapter in Book Two that has the same numerical position as the sonnets, II: 29 (“De la vertu”). And there, as in I: 29 (with the Dordogne and the Vézère), it is a question of two sisters. Dépuis peu de jours, à Bragerac, à cinq lieues de ma maison, contremont la riviere de Dordoigne, une femme, ayant esté tourmentée et batue, le soir avant, de son mary . . . delibera d’eschapper à sa rudesse au pris de sa vie; et  .  .  .  prenant une sienne soeur par la main, la mena avecques elle sur le pont, et, apres avoir prins congé d’elle, comme par maniere de jeu, sans montrer autre changement ou alteration, se precipita du haut en bas dans la riviere, où elle se perdit. [A few days ago, at Bergerac, five leagues from my house up the Dordogne River, a woman who had been tormented and beaten the night before by her husband  .  .  .  resolved to escape his roughness at the price of her life, and  .  .  .  taking a sister of hers by the hand, brought her onto the bridge, and, after taking leave of her as if in jest, without showing any other change or alteration, she threw herself down headlong into the river, where she per- ished.] (II: 29, 706–7a; 534*) There is no reason to think it didn’t really happen, but we have seen ample evidence of Montaigne’s propensity for taking material at hand, from real events to classical and other texts, and using it for his own artistic purpose, like a bricoleur in the Lévi-Straussian sense. The 29 sonnets, despite his claim- ing they were not his first choice, are part of the fabric of the Essays. The reason the poet gives for keeping the two offending sonnets in the sequence sounds strangely like the reason Montaigne gives in “De l’oisiveté” for writing the Essays. Montaigne says he retired from active life and as a favor to his mind let it remain idle, hoping that with time it would become stron- ger and more mature. But he found that it gave birth to so many chimera and monsters with neither order nor pertinence that “pour en contempler à mon aise l’ineptie & l’estrangetté j’ay commancé de les mettre en rolle, espe- IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 239 rant avec le temps luy en faire honte à luy mesmes” [in order to contemplate their ineptitude and strangeness at my leisure, I have begun to put them in writing, hoping in time to make my mind ashamed of itself ] (I: 8, 33a; DM 32; 21*). The poet writes that sonnets 14 and 15 are the “honte de mes vers” [shame of my verses] and that if he doesn’t destroy them it is because he wants to make their shortcomings public: O vous mauditz sonnetz, vous qui prinstes l’audace De toucher à ma dame: o malings & pervers, Des muses le reproche, & honte de mes vers: Si je vous feis jamais, il faut que je me fasse Ce tort de confesser vous tenir de ma race,  . . .  Si j’ai oncq quelque part à la posterité Je veux que l’un & l’autre en soit desherité. Et si au feu vangeur des or je ne vous donne, C’est pour vous diffamer, vivez chetifz, vivez, Vivez aux yeux de tous, de tout honneur privez: Car c’est pour vous punir, qu’ores je vous pardonne. [O you, my cursèd sonnets, you who had the nerve To do my lady harm! O evil and perverse, The reproach of the Muses, the shame of my verse! If ever I made you, if I must do myself The wrong of confessing that you come from my race,  . . .  If ever in posterity I have some share, I want you both to suffer disinheritance. If in the vengeful fire I do not throw you now, It’s so I might defame you: live, stunted ones, live; Live in the sight of all, of all honor deprived; It’s for your punishment that I pardon you now.] (sonnet 20: lines 1–4, 9–14) The fate reserved both for the monsters of Montaigne’s mind and the two shameful sonnets is punishment by publication. In addition to that similar- ity, the two sonnets in the middle resemble the sequence itself in that both are an extended quotation in the center of the book, presented to the public (“aux yeux de tous”) but eventually disinherited (“Je veux que l’un & l’autre en soit desherité”), when Montaigne marked them out. 240 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book But the whole sonnet sequence is not so easily isolated from the rest of the Essays. We have seen how its influence extends to “De l’amitié.”15 In the same way that each chapter finds another, always symmetrically connected to it, with which it shares a common language and some situational paral- lels, the center of Book One finds its partner in the most structurally appro- priate place, the other center that the 1580 edition—divided as it was into two volumes—provided, the middle chapter of Book Two, II: 19. And then when Book Three joins the other two books in 1588, its center, III: 7, joins the conversation, repeating the others’ words and recycling some of their situations. The sonnet sequence is about recanting (the poet recanting the terrible things he said about his beloved in sonnets 14 and 15), while “De la liberté de conscience” [Of freedom of conscience] (II: 19) is about one of the most notorious recanters in history, Julian the Apostate. The Emperor Constantine had made Christianity the official religion of the state. When Julian came to power, he reintroduced the worship of the gods, and fostered freedom of religion (the better to divide his enemies, Montaigne asserts). That he returned to the pagan religion gave him, in Montaigne’s view, the unmerited name of “apostat, pour avoir abandonné la nostre. Toutesfois céte opinion me semble plus vray-semblable qu’il ne l’avoit jamais eue à coeur, mais que pour l’obeissance des loix il s’estoit feint jusques à ce qu’il tint l’empire en sa main” [Apostate for having abandoned ours; however, this theory seems to me more likely, that he had never had it at heart, but that, out of obedience to the laws he had dissembled until he held the Empire in his hand] (II: 19, 670a, DM 486–87; 508). Montaigne, as so often elsewhere, creates a singular verbal echo as a tan- gible sign that the parallel is really there. Read again, in the very center of the sonnets, what the poet says he must later unsay: Ce n’est pas moy que l’on abuze ainsi: Qu’à quelque enfant ses ruzes on emploie, 15. Lawrence D. Kritzman points out an interesting textual influence of at least the title of the “Discours de la servitude volontaire” on “De l’amitié.” In friendships that law and family obligation impose “il y a d’autant moins de nostre chois & liberté volontaire. Et nostre liberté volontaire n’a point de production qui soit plus proprement sienne que celle de l’affection et amitié” [the less of our choice and free will there is in them. And our free will has no product more properly its own than affection and friendship] (I: 28, 185a, DM 258; 137). Kritzman sees Montaigne as “shifting the focus from ‘servitude volontaire’ to the ‘liberté volontaire’ of friendship” (The Fabulous Imagination: On Montaigne’s Essais [New York: Columbia University Press, 2009], 86. Yet Montaigne by this point in the chapter had already cited this title (“C’est un discours auquel il donna nom De la servitude volontaire” [I: 28, 183a, DM 253]), so one could just as easily speak of the influence of this passage on the one a few pages later in the same chapter. IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 241 Qui n’a nul goust, qui n’entend rien qu’il oye: Je sçay aymer, je sçay hayr aussi. Contente toi de m’avoir jusqu’ici Fermé les yeux, il est temps que j’y voie. [I’m not a man to suffer such abuse— Try out those ruses on some ignorant child, Who, artless, takes in nothing that he hears. I know how to love, I know how to hate. Content yourself with having until now Kept shut my eyes, for now it’s time I saw.] (sonnet 15: lines 1–6) And now read what Montaigne says Julian did not say: Aussi ce que plusieurs disent de luy, qu’estant blessé à mort d’un coup de traict, il s’escria, Tu as vaincu, ou comme disent les autres, Contente toy Nazarien, n’est non plus vraysemblable. Car ceux qui estoient presens à sa mort, & qui nous en recitent toutes les particulieres circonstances, les contenances mesmes & les parolles n’en disent rien. [Thus what several say of him, that being mortally wounded by an arrow he cried out, “You have conquered,” or as others say, “Content yourself, Naza- rene,” is not plausible, either. For those who were present at his death, and who recount to us all the particular circumstances, even the countenances and the words, say nothing about it.] (II: 19, DM 484) The words “Contente toi” make their only appearance in the two central chapters of the original edition. But in the 1582 edition they disappeared from the second of these centers, when Montaigne removed this anecdote from the chapter on Julian. In a post-1588 revision of that chapter they returned, but on the same Bordeaux Copy Montaigne removed the sonnets, so when one “Contente toi” reappeared the other one disappeared. In other words, from 1582 on they start behaving like Castor and Pollux. Between the 1580 and 1582 editions, Montaigne traveled to Italy, and in Rome was told by the papal censor along with some other objections that he had been too favorable to Julian. But would he have satisfied the Vati- can by deleting only this passage, in which he denies that the emperor had made something approaching a death bed conversion, but let all the rest of his praise of Julian stand? He did not delete such praise as this, for instance: “C’estoit, à la vérité, un tres-grand homme et rare  .  .  .  et, de vray, il n’est 242 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book aucune sorte de vertu dequoy il n’ait laissé de tres-notables exemples” [He was, in truth, a very great and rare man . . . and indeed there is no sort of virtue of which he did not leave very notable examples] (II: 19, 669a; 507). Nor did he take away the good things he had to say about him in I: 42 or II: 21. André Tournon writes that Montaigne suppressed the anecdote and his criticism of it “by deference, it seems [semble-t-il ], to the censors” (my ital- ics)—which suggests that Tournon is not entirely convinced of it being more than a seeming. He comments further, “The suppression of this passage in 1582 attests to the boldness the essayist detected within it; its reinsertion after 1588, by a sort of recidivism, marks its importance” (Tournon, Route par ailleurs, 308).16 But from Montaigne seeing how bold it was it does not necessarily follow that he knew that the papal censor could detect it. When Montaigne put the story, and his refutation of it, back into the chapter after 1588, he put it in a different place, just after his account of Julian’s death: [A] Il dit entre autres choses, en mourant, qu’il sçavoit bon gré aux dieux et les remercioit dequoy ils ne l’avoyent pas voulu tuer par surprise . . . et qu’ils l’avoient trouvé digne de mourir de cette noble façon, sur le cours de ses victoires et en la fleur de sa gloire. Il avoit eu une pareille vision à celle de Marcus Brutus, qui premierement le menassa en Gaule et depuis se repre- senta à lui en Perse sur le poinct de sa mort. [C] Ce langage qu’on lui faict tenir, quand il se sentit frappé: Tu as vaincu, Nazareen; ou, comme d’autres: Contente toi, Nazareen, n’eust esté oublié, s’il eust esté creu par mes tes- moings, qui, estans presens en l’armée, ont remerqué jusques aux moindres mouvements et parolles de sa fin. . . .  [(A) He said among other things, as he was dying, that he was grateful to the gods and thanked them because they had not willed to kill him by sur- prise . . . and that they had found him worthy to die in this noble fashion, in the course of his victories and in the flower of his glory. He had had a vision like that of Marcus Brutus, which first threatened him in Gaul and later reappeared to him in Persia just before his death. (C) These words that they have him say when he felt himself struck, “Thou hast conquered, Naz- arene,” or, as others have it, “Be content, Nazarene,” would not have been forgotten if they had been believed by my witnesses, who, being present in the army, noted even the slightest movements and words at his end. . . . ] (II: 19, 671ac; 509) 16. Donald Frame, though erroneously dating the deletion to 1588, says it “may have been in response to the observations of the papal censor” (508n—my italics). IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 243 Ammianus Marcellinus, one of Montaigne’s acknowledged sources, recounts the vision the essayist alludes to here: Once when in the darkness of night he was intent upon the lofty thought of some philosopher, he saw somewhat dimly, as he admitted to his intimates, that form of the protecting deity of the state which he had seen in Gaul when he was rising to Augustan dignity, but now with veil over both head and horn of plenty, sorrowfully passing out through the curtains of his tent. And although for a moment he remained sunk in stupefaction, yet rising above all fear, he commended his future fate to the decrees of heaven, and now fully awake, the night being now far advanced, he left his bed, which was spread on the ground, and prayed to the gods with rites designed to avert their displeasure.17 It was perfectly appropriate for Montaigne to place his “Contente toi” anec- dote just after mentioning this vision Ammianus recounts, as well as in the context of Julian’s death. That is where he put it in the post-1588 alteration. The question arises, why did he not also put it there in 1580? The account of Julian’s death and the allusion to the vision he did have (as opposed to the vision of Christ which Montaigne argues he did not have) were there as well in the 1580 edition. So he could have logically placed it there, but instead he put it here: Il nous estoit apre à la verité, mais non pourtant cruel ennemy: car nos gens mesmes recitent de luy céte histoire, que se promenant un jour autour de la ville de Calcedoine, Maris l’Evesque du lieu osa bien l’appeller mes- chant traistre à Christ, & qu’il n’en fit autre chose sauf luy respondre, Va miserable, pleure la perte de tes yeus. À quoy l’Evesque encore repliqua, Je rens graces à Jesus Christ de m’avoir osté la veue pour ne voir ton visage impudent. Affectant, disent ils, en cela une patience philosophique. Tant y a que ce faict là ne se peut pas bien rapporter aux cruautés qu’on le dict avoir exercées contre nous. Il estoit (dit Eutropius mon autre tesmoin) ennemi de la Chrestienté: mais sans toucher au sang. Aussi ce que plusieurs disent de luy, qu’estant blessé à mort d’un coup de trait, il s’escria, Tu as vaincu, ou comme disent les autres, Contente toy nazarien, n’est non plus vraysemblable. [He was a harsh enemy to us, in truth, but not a cruel one. For even our own people tell of him this story, that as he was walking about the city of 17. Ammianus Marcellinus, The History, vol. 2, pp. 486–87 (xxv, 2. 3–5). 244 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book Chalcedon one day, Maris, the bishop of the place, actually dared to call him a wicked traitor to Christ, and that he did nothing about it except to answer: “Go, wretched man, and weep for the loss of your eyes.” To which the bishop further replied: “I give thanks to Jesus Christ for having taken away my sight, so that I may not see your impudent face.” In this, they say, Julian was affecting a philosophic patience. At all events, that action can- not be reconciled with the cruelties that they say he exercised against us. He was (says Eutropius, my other witness) an enemy of Christianity, but without touching blood. And what several say of him, that being mortally wounded by an arrow he cried out, “You have conquered,” or as others say, “Content yourself, Nazarene,” is not plausible, either.] (II: 19, 669–70a, DM 483–84; 507–8*) One reason he may have initially put the anecdote here in 1580 is that this is also the place where he makes another allusion through a unique verbal echo to the same lines in sonnet 15 where “Contente toi” appears. When the bishop says that he thanks Jesus Christ “de m’avoir osté la veue” [for hav- ing taken away my sight] he is repeating almost verbatim, minus the thanks, what the speaker in the poem said as the completion of the verbal construc- tion that “Contente toi” began: “Contente toi de m’avoir jusqu’ici / Fermé les yeux, il est temps que j’y voie” [Content yourself with having until now / Kept shut my eyes, for it is time I saw] (sonnet 15, lines 5–6). The expression “de m’avoir” with blinding as its completion appears in no other passage. The coincidence between that singular echo and the structural connection linking the two places where they appear—the center of one book and the center of the other—make it hard to imagine that Montaigne was unaware of what he was doing. When he deleted the sonnets on the Bordeaux Copy and restored the “Contente toi” anecdote to II: 19 he separated it from the bishop’s echo of the speaker in the sonnets, and put it where more logically it should have gone in the first place, in an account of Julian’s death and of another vision he had had. The sonnets gone, there was no longer any reason to put the anecdote where it did not belong. These singular echoes (“Contente toi” and “de m’avoir” + “osté la veue” / “Fermé les yeux”) are matched by another that brings the remaining central chapter, III: 7, into the conversation. “De l’incommodité de la grandeur” (III: 7) is about the difficulty of being king when no one will play against you in earnest. A king is surrounded by such a strong radiance that his subjects are blinded: “Cette lueur estrangere qui l’environne, le cache, & nous le desrobe, nostre veüe s’y rompt & s’y dissipe, estant remplie & arrestée par cette forte IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 245 lumiere” [That extraneous glare that surrounds him hides him and conceals him from us; our sight breaks and is dissipated by it, being filled and arrested by this strong light] (III: 7, 919a, DM 404v; 702). Where else do we find a “forte lumiere” in the Essays? Only in the 29 sonnets: J’ay veu ses yeux perçans, j’ay veu sa face claire: (Nul jamais sans son dam ne regarde les dieux) Froit, sans coeur me laissa son oeil victorieux, Tout estourdy du coup de sa forte lumiere. Comme un surpris de nuit aux champs quand il esclaire, Estonné, se pallist si la fleche des cieux Sifflant, luy passe contre, & luy serre les yeux, Il tremble, & veoit, transi, Jupiter en colere. [I have seen her piercing eyes, have seen her bright face (Never does any man unharmed gaze on the gods); Bereft of heart, and chilled, by her victorious eye, All dazzled and awed by the force of its strong light. Like one surprised at night by lightning’s sudden flash, Who, astonished, turns pale—the arrow from the skies Hissing, passes by, making him shut tight his eyes. He trembles and, transfixed, sees Jupiter in rage.] (sonnet 5, lines 1–8) The beloved of the sonnets, who prefigures Christ in II: 19 as the one to whom one says “Contente toi,” prefigures the king in III: 7 as the one whose “forte lumiere” bedazzles and blinds. The puzzle pieces fall into place when we recollect that Christ in II: 19 is also the one who blinds: “Je rens graces à Jesus Christ de m’avoir osté la veue” [I give thanks to Jesus Christ for having taken away my sight]. That makes the parallel between the beloved of the sonnets and the Christ of II: 19 all the stronger. III: 7 is further connected to II: 19 by the fact that when the bishop is addressing Julian he talking to a sovereign whom he cannot see. Montaigne’s point in III: 7 is that we can never see a king, that we are always blinded when we get near one. Chapters I: 29, II: 19 and III: 7, in other words, just like the other chapters in their symmetrical pairings, recycle the same ele- ments in beautiful and playful ways. Montaigne gives royally induced sight impairment a fresh spin just a few lines after talking about the “forte lumiere” that blinds a king’s subjects. As we cede all advantages of honor to kings, 246 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book aussi conforte l’on & auctorise les deffauts & vices qu’ils ont: non seulement par approbation, mais aussi par imitation. Chacun des suyvans d’Alexandre portoit comme luy la teste à costé. Et les flateurs de Dionysius s’entrehur- toyent en sa presence, poussoyent & versoyent ce qui se rencontroit à leurs pieds, pour dire qu’ils avoyent la veuë aussi courte que luy. [so we confirm and authorize the defects they have, not only by approba- tion but also by imitation. Every one of the followers of Alexander carried his head on one side, as he did; and the flatterers of Dionysius bumped into one another in his presence, stumbled upon and knocked over what was at their feet, to signify that they were as shortsighted as he.] (III: 7, 919a, DM 404v; 702) In a reversal reminiscent of the way a situation is recycled from one sym- metrically related chapter to another, these subjects employ a feigned partial blindness in order to flatter their sovereign, while the bishop in II: 19 made use of his genuine blindness to insult his. Before talking about Julian, Montaigne complains about the disappear- ance of texts due to religious zeal: Il est certain qu’en ces premiers temps que nostre religion commença à fleu- rir & à gaigner authorité & puissance avec les loix, le zele en arma plusieurs contre toute sorte de livres payens, de quoy les gens de lettre souffrent une merveilleuse perte. J’estime que ce desordre ait plus porté de nuysance aux lettres, que tous les feux des barbares. [It is certain that in those early times when our religion began to flower and to gain authority and power with the laws, zeal armed many believers against every sort of pagan books, thus causing men of letters to suffer an extraordinary loss. I consider that this excess did more harm to letters than all the bonfires of the barbarians.] (II: 19, 668a, DM 481; 506*) La Boétie’s Discours de la servitude volontaire comes close to being just such a missing text, not totally lost to posterity as were the pagan ones alluded to here, but missing all the same from the place where Montaigne says he wanted it to appear, thanks to a certain religious zeal. The pagan texts went missing because such zeal took them out of circulation, while the Discours is missing from the Essays because it was circulated. Emmanuel Naya sug- gests that Montaigne in II: 19 may be alluding to another missing text of La Boétie’s: IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 247 One could point to the parallel, this time in the center of Book Two, between these pages and another text of La Boétie’s that Montaigne had not published either when he edited his posthumous works in 1571: the Mémoire touchant l’Édit de janvier, in which he envisaged the positive effects of a temporary solution based on establishing freedom of conscience. Might this be homage by substituted praise, paralleling the substitution of the son- nets for the Discours de la servitude volontaire in Book One, before the ulti- mate removal of all foreign texts?18 In Essais sur les Essais, Michel Butor notes that the first words of “De l’incommodité de la grandeur”—“Puisque nous ne la pouvons aveindre, ven- geons nous à en mesdire” [Since we cannot attain it, let us take our revenge by speaking ill of it] (III: 7, 916b, DM 402v; 509)—“are almost an echo” (173) of the last words of “De la liberté de conscience”: “n’ayants peu ce qu’ils vouloient, ils ont faict semblant de vouloir ce qu’ils pouvoient” [having been unable to do what they would, they have pretended to will what they could] (II: 19, 672a, DM 489; 509). It is in fact both a sameness and a twist of the sort we have seen in symmetrically paired chapters. The sameness is that in both passages one wants what one cannot have. The twist is that in III: 7 one pretends not to want the thing one wants but cannot have (“Puisque nous ne la pouvons aveindre, vengeons nous à en mesdire” [Since we cannot attain it, let us take our revenge by speaking ill of it] while in II: 19 one settles for what one can get and pretends to want that. In III: 7, we would like to possess the “grandeur” to which the chapter’s title alludes. In II: 19, kings of Montaigne’s time would like a unified kingdom with no division between Protestants and Catholics, and the king of France in particular would like a unified Catholic nation. But the Protestants are too strong to extinguish, and civil war rages. So a truce is called and the Protestants are for a while no longer attacked by the state. The hope is that de lácher la bride aus pars, d’entretenir leur opinion c’est les amolir & relascher par la facilité & par l’aysance, & que c’est emousser l’eguillon qui s’affine par la rarité, la nouvelleté & la difficulté. Et si croy mieux pour l’honneur de la devotion de noz rois, c’est que n’ayants peu ce qu’ils vou- loint, ils ont faict semblant de vouloir ce qu’ils pouvoint. 18. Essais de Michel de Montaigne II, ed. Emmanuel Naya, Delphine Reguig-Naya, and Alexandre Tarrête (Paris: Gallimard Folio, 2009), 777. Gisèle Mathieu-Castellani also finds Montaigne alluding to La Boétie’s Mémoire in II: 19, but in order to argue against it (in Montaigne ou la vérité du mensonge, 95–105). 248 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book [to loosen the rein for factions, allowing them to entertain their own opin- ions, is to soften and relax them through facility and ease, and to dull the point, which is sharpened by rarity, novelty, and difficulty. And I prefer to think, for the reputation of our kings’ piety, that having been unable to do what they would, they have pretended to will what they could.] (II: 19, 672a, DM 489; 509*) The words I have italicized return in what Montaigne has to say in III: 7 about the disadvantage of royal greatness, which is that a monarch cannot participate in “les essays que nous faisons les uns contre les autres, par jalou- sie d’honneur & de valeur, soit aux exercices du corps ou de l’esprit” [the trials of strength we have with one another, in rivalry of honor and worth, whether in exercises of the body or of the mind] (III: 7, 918b, DM 403v; 701) because his subjects offer no genuine resistance and always let him win. Qui ne participe au hazard & difficulté, ne peut pretendre interest à l’hon- neur & plaisir qui suit les actions hazardeuses. C’est pitié de pouvoir tant, qu’il advienne que toutes choses vous cedent. . . . Cette aysance & láche faci- lité, de faire tout baisser soubs soy, est ennemye de toute sorte de plaisir. . . . Concevez l’homme accompaigné de l’omnipotence, vous l’abismez: il faut qu’il vous demande par aumosne, de l’empeschement & de la resistance. [He who does not share the risk and difficulty can claim no involvement in the honor and pleasure that follow hazardous actions. It is a pity to have so much power that everything gives way to you.  .  .  . That ease and slack facility of making everything bow beneath you is the enemy of every kind of pleasure. . . . Imagine man accompanied by omnipotence: he is sunk; he must ask you for hindrance and resistance, as an alms.] (III: 7, 919b, DM 404v; 701–2) These words make their only joint appearances in these two chapters. When Julian came to power he wanted to re-establish the worship of the gods and to accomplish this he reopened the temples and decreed that his subjects, whether Christian or pagan, should follow “sans empeschement & sans crainte” [without hindrance and without fear] (II: 19, 671a, DM 488; 509) the tenets of their own religion. In doing so, he employed “pour attiser le trouble de la dissention civile de cette mesme recepte de liberté de conscience, que noz Roys viennent d’employer pour l’étaindre” [to kindle the trouble of civil dissension, that same recipe of freedom of conscience that IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 249 our kings have just been employing to extinguish it] (II: 19, 671a, DM 489; 509). For our kings that would supposedly result in weakening the Protes- tants by giving them “facilité” and “aysance” and taking away all “difficulté.” In other words, Montaigne is saying the same thing about the disadvan- tage of royal grandeur that he says about Julian’s and the modern-day kings’ political strategies. In both chapters, one suffers from having difficulties smoothed away. But in a characteristic opposition, in II: 19 it is kings who hinder their opposing subjects by making things too easy for them, while in III: 7 it is subjects who do that to kings. In a metafictional way, another remark he makes at this point about the disadvantage of greatness is applicable to what he is at this moment doing (as well as continually doing) in the Essays: “Leurs bonnes qualitez sont mortes & perdues, car elles ne se sentent que par comparaison, & on les met hors” [Their good qualities are dead and wasted, for these are felt only by compari- son, and they are out of comparison] (III: 7, 919b, DM 404v; 702). It is only by comparing one chapter with its structurally related other (through their symmetry or, in this case, their being in the middle) that we can see their true excellence. Is it by chance that Montaigne calls these comparisons “essays” made “les uns contre les autres” [each against the other]? Let us return one last time to the sonnets. Given that they occupy the center of Book One, what might be the center of this center? Since French prosody is based on syllable count, it ought to be possible to find the cen- tral syllable or syllables of a collection of poems by simple arithmetic. It is a little more complicated in this case, since not only do fifteen of the sonnets have twelve-syllable lines and fourteen have ten-syllable lines, but in addition their arrangement with regard to syllable count is not entirely regular. They fall into six groups, composed respectively of 2, 2, 7, 6, 6, and 6 sonnets. Sonnets 1–2 are composed of 12-syllable lines, Sonnets 3–4 of 10, Sonnets 5–11 of 12, Sonnets 12–17 of 10, Sonnets 18–23 of 12, and Sonnets 24–29 of 10. But the math is still simple: the total number of syllables can be determined by adding the sum of decasyllables—14 sonnets x 14 lines x 10 syllables = 1960 syllables—to the number of alexandrine syllables: 15 son- nets x 14 lines x 12 syllables = 2520 syllables. This gives us 4480 syllables. The two central syllables will therefore be the 2240th and the 2241st. Where they fall in the sequence can be determined if we add the total number of syllables in each metric group and keep a running tally until syllables 2240 and 2241 are reached: 250 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book Sonnets 1 through 2: 2 sonnets x 14 lines x 12 syllables: 336 syllables. Total so far: 336. Sonnets 3 through 4: 2 sonnets x 14 lines x 10 syllables: 280 syllables. Total so far: 616. Sonnets 5 through 11: 7 sonnets x 14 lines x 12 syllables: 1176 syllables. Total so far: 1792. Sonnets 12 through 17: 6 sonnets x 14 lines x 10 syllables: 840 syllables. Total so far: 2632. The two central syllables are therefore somewhere in the group of decasyl- labic sonnets between 12 and 17. To find precisely where, we bear in mind that each sonnet in this decasyllabic group has 140 syllables (14 lines x 10 syllables per line). Because 2240–1792 = 448, it will be the 448th in this metric group. Sonnets 12 through 14 = 3 sonnets x 140 syllables per sonnet = 420 syllables. This means that the 448th syllable in this group—syllable 2240 of the 29 sonnets’ total—will be the 28th syllable in sonnet 15. The other central syllable (the 2241st) will the 29th syllable in sonnet 15. But this is a strange coincidence, for the number (448) that the first of these two syllables bears within its metric group (sonnets 12 through 17) is strangely similar to the total number of sonnets in the whole sequence, 4480; and the second of these two central syllables, as the 29th in its sonnet, bears the same number as the total number of sonnets: 29. So in this sequence of 29 sonnets comprising 4480 syllables each of the two central syllables seems to refer to one of two available numbers signifying the whole sequence: one to the total number of syllables and the other to the total number of sonnets. What would be the odds of this happening by chance? Astronomical, really. If La Boétie did it on purpose, it does not follow that Montaigne was aware of it. But then Montaigne would have been blissfully ignorant of a particularly striking “vaine subtilité” at the heart of his first book, as Bellero- phon (or Uriah the Hittite) was unaware of the content of the message he was carrying. Indeed, there is something like a message in this center. Here are the two central syllables, in context: Ce n’est pas moy que l’on abuze ainsi: Qu’à quelque enfant ces19 ruzes on emploie, Qui n’a nul goust, qui n’entend rien qu’il oyt. [I’m not a man to suffer such abuse— 19. I have corrected the “ses” [her, his] that appears in 1580, 1582, and 1588 to “ces” because “ses” makes no sense, since he is addressing the beloved when he says “Contente toy.” Albert-Marie Schmidt makes the same correction in his Poètes du XVIe siècle (Paris: Gallimard / Pléiade: 1953), 698. IV. Journey to the Center of the Book 251 Try out those ruses on some ignorant child, Who, artless, takes in nothing that he hears.] (Sonnet 15, lines 1–3) The message, if there is one, is about nothing—that is, about nothingness. The speaker asserts that he is not naive, not a childlike being who understands nothing that he hears. Metafictionally, we may have permission to read this line a little differently: that it is a question of understanding or not under- standing the rien that one hears. How then might we readers understand this rien that we read? At roughly the same time Montaigne was deleting this rien and the sonnets surrounding it, he added the following description of his book to “De la phisionomie”: “[Je] ne traicte à point nommé de rien que du rien, ny d’aucune science que de celle de l’inscience” [there is nothing I treat of specifically except of nothing, nor of any knowledge except that of the lack of knowledge] (III: 12, 1057c; 809*). Long before Flaubert, Montaigne, it seems, wrote a book about nothing.20 So it is weirdly appropriate that there should be a rien in the middle of the middle of Book One. Montaigne quotes La Boétie’s poetry twice more in Book One, and on both occasions the middle of the line that is quoted seems to refer to the middle of the sonnets. The first quotation is placed at the beginning of “Du parler prompt ou tardif ” [Of prompt or slow speech]: “Onc ne furent à tous, toutes graces données” [Never to all were all graces given] (I: 10, 39a, DM 39; 25*). Totality is twice expressed in the central syllables of this alexandrine line, as totality is twice expressed in the central syllables of the sonnets: the total number of syllables, as the first syllable being exactly one-tenth of the total number of syllables, and the total number of sonnets, as the second syl- lable being the 29th in the sonnet in which the center appears. Not only that, but the sonnet from which Montaigne took this line (the fourteenth of the 25 sonnets Montaigne published in 1571) refers, just two lines before this one, to a hidden tenth: . . . du peuple ay pitié: De mil vertus qu’il voit en un corps ordonnees, La dixme il n’en voit pas, & les laisse pour moy: Certes j’en ay pitié; mais puis apres je voy Qu’onc ne furent à tous toutes graces donnees. [ . . . I pity the common herd: Of a thousand virtues in one body arranged, They don’t even see the tenth, and leave them for me. 20. As Terence Cave notes, in commenting on this passage (The Cornucopian Text: Problems of Writing in the French Renaissance [Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979], 309). 252 IV. Journey to the Center of the Book Certainly I pity then, but afterwards I see That never to all were all graces given.] (lines 11–14; Desgraves, vol. 2, 123) The speaker of the poem is referring to the thousand virtues arranged in the body of his beloved, but in the new context Montaigne gives this passage by quoting it in Book One, where the 29 sonnets occupy center stage, they could be taken to refer to the hidden tenth that no one sees but himself (the common herd do not see the other nine tenths either). It might not be by chance that this quotation begins a tenth chapter. The other line from La Boétie that Montaigne quotes in the First Book appears in “Que le goust des biens et des maux depend en bonne partie de l’opinion que nous en avons” [That the taste of good and evil things depends in large measure on the opinion we have of them]: “Aut fuit, aut veniet, nihil est praesentis in illa” [Either it (i.e., death) has been or is to come; nothing of the present is in it] (I: 14, 56a, DM 64; 37*). The nothingness that is at the center of the 29 sonnets is at the center again here, thanks to the fact that Montaigne quoted only this one line from his friend’s Latin poem and none of the more than three hundred others. In quoting this line, as he did the other one, Montaigne made it stand alone, with a nihil in the middle.21 21. Charles S. Singleton discovered in Dante something analogous to La Boétie’s having placed significant numbers at the numerical center of his sonnet sequence as well as to the variable in the poetic structure of the sequence that made such placement possible (Charles S. Singleton, “The Poet’s Number at the Center,” MLN 80 [1965]: 1–10). The variable in La Boétie’s case is the meter; specifi- cally, his decision to make some sonnets decasyllabic and some alexandrine, and to distribute these different metrical groups in the precise way he did. For Dante, writes Singleton, “the one variable in the component parts of this poem, as the poet has conceived it, is the length of the cantos,” which vary from 115 to 160 verses. What he found was that the seven central cantos of Purgatory (in the center of the Divine Comedy) display an absolute symmetry in their respective length: 151 + 145 + 145 + 139 + 145 + 145 + 151 lines. What is equally remarkable is that this seven (the number of symmetrical cantos at the center) should repeat itself in the seventieth line of this central canto, the exact center of the entire Divine Comedy. (Similarly, the 448th syllable at the center of the twenty-nine sonnets is one-tenth of his total number of 4480 syllables.) All this was possible only because of the variable Dante had to play with, just as all that happens in the center of the sonnets is possible only because of the variable the poet had up his sleeve. “Only such a canto length,” Singleton writes, “could give us a verse numbered 70 at the precise midpoint of the whole poem.” In responding to an attack on Single- ton’s argument by Richard J. Pegis, who held that such a construction was more likely to have been the product of chance, J. L. Logan invoked Occam’s razor: “For it is surely questionable to assume that an organized poetic unit can be treated as if it were merely a random arrangement of unrelated elements” (J.  L. Logan, “The Poet’s Central Numbers,” MLN 86 [1971]: 95–98). It is “question- able” because inconsistent with Occam’s principle, which orders us to accept the theory which saves the phenomena “with the fewest possible assumptions.” That such a phenomenon could have been intended in the Divine Comedy, “a special poem in connection with which the word ‘random’ does not come quickly to mind,” seems more likely than not. Neither, in light of what secrets the sonnets reveal, may “random” be the best word to describe the Essays, nor the twenty-nine sonnets—nor the interplay between the two. 253 “Every commentary,” writes Yves Delègue in Montaigne et la mauvaise foi, adding that his own is no exception, “is in the final analysis only a mon- tage of quotations reassembled in a certain order. It takes apart the work under the pretext of making the ‘truth’ come out at last. The commentator’s avowed wish . . . is to disappear once he has thus redealt the cards, as if all by themselves they could play the game of transparency” (10–11). Given the barrage of quotations from the Essays with which I have assaulted the reader, Delègue’s characterization seems especially apt. It has indeed been my hope that if I lined up side by side the passages in symmetrically related chapters where certain words and phrases repeated themselves, then it would become obvious that there is at least that element of structure in the Essays, that Montaigne planted those echoing words there on purpose, and that ever since 1580 he has been waiting for someone to realize that every symmetrical pair could be read as a single text. I would be glad to disappear once that truth has been unveiled and let the text speak for itself. I would only point out that the “certain order” in which I present these quotations is not mine but Montaigne’s. On different grounds, but with the reference to many of the same pas- sages where we have seen Montaigne inviting the reader to complete his work, Michel Jeanneret argues that Montaigne doesn’t want his work to die with him, but to continue coming into existence after his death with the assistance ePilOgue The Playful Text 254 Epilogue of the “lecteur suffisant” [sufficient reader] to whom he appeals in I: 24. Such a reader “descouvre souvant ès escritz d’autruy des perfections autres que celles que l’autheur y a mises & aperceües, & y preste des sens & des visages plus riches” [often discovers in others’ writings perfections beyond those that the author put in or perceived, and lends them richer meanings and aspects] (I: 24, 127a; 93*). Given the wealth of parallels between the chapter where this passage appears and I: 34, its symmetrical counterpart, where Montaigne likewise writes of perfections emerging in a work of art independently of its creator’s awareness, it is difficult to conceive of him being as unaware as such a creator. According to Jeanneret, Montaigne wants to make the reader “a partner” for whom he “created numerous occasions  .  .  .  to intervene” and “deliberately made the reception, or rather diverse receptions that would ensue an active posthumous destiny for the Essays, an integral part of the book.” The reader “has to reconstruct missing articulations, put the disorder in order.”1 Jeanneret is not alluding to the overall structure of the Essays that concerns us here, but rather to what he calls “intentional failings in the orga- nization of the text” of individual chapters. Yet this does speak to the kind of completion that I argue Montaigne has been waiting for, that of matching each chapter to its other half. Montaigne appeals for a sharp-eyed reader to take in the whole picture: “Il est impossible de renger les pieces, à qui n’a une forme du tout en sa teste” [A man who does not have in his head a picture of the whole cannot possibly arrange the pieces] (II: 1, 337a, DM 9; 243*). “Dieu . . . voit en l’immensité de son ouvrage l’infinité des formes qu’il y a comprinses; et est à croire que cette figure qui nous estonne, se rapporte et tient à quelque autre figure de mesme genre inconnu à l’homme. De sa toute sagesse il ne part rien que bon et commun et reglé; mais nous n’en voyons pas l’assortiment et la relation” [God . . . sees in the immensity of his work the infinity of forms that he has comprised in it; and it is for us to believe that this figure that astonishes us is related and linked to some other figure of the same kind unknown to man. From his infinite wisdom there proceeds nothing but that is good and com- mon and regular; but we do not see their arrangement and relationship] (II: 30, 713c; 539*). The Essays are a playful book, hiding their artfulness in some ways and revealing it in others. André Tournon complains that Montaigne’s “express declarations” deny the possibility of a hidden order (“Organisation des Essais,” in Dictionnaire de Michel de Montaigne, 847). But François Rigolot 1. Michel Jeanneret, Perpetual Motion: Transforming Shapes in the Renaissance from da Vinci to Montaigne, tr. Nidra Poller (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2001), 275. Epilogue 255 argues that Montaigne is part of a long tradition of concealing art with art: “From the ‘corps rappiecez’ to the ‘pieces décousues,’” in reading the Essays “we are always in the enchanting aporia of art without art. ‘Ars adeo latet arte sua’ [Thus art is hidden by its own art], as Ovid wrote in the Metamor- phoses (X, 252).”2 Despite the concealment Montaigne keeps lifting the veil by making the very thing that repeats from one chapter to its symmetrical partner allude to the fact of its existence. For example, in I: 9, a chapter on lying (“Des menteurs”), he says that a liar better have a good memory, but that his is worse than anyone else’s; but in I: 49 he claims he can remember what no one else can, showing himself to be a bad liar with a bad memory. In both I: 24 and I: 34 chance “surpasses” the “science” of an artist, allowing him to better his work without intending to, as if it were by mere chance that chance would do its works so well in symmetrically related chapters. The motif of getting two for one appears in both I: 26 and I: 32, giving us one motif in two places (that are, I argue, one place since symmetrical chapters form a unit). II: 30 prophesies backward, “à reculons,” to the earlier appearance in II: 8 of that same expression. Fingers are intertwined in both II: 12 and II: 26, and in II: 12 they give the illusion of two for one. One’s “veue” [sight] is altered in both II: 13 and II: 25, though it would take the stereoscopic sight discussed in II: 25 to see it. The motif of restated words is itself restated in II: 14 and II: 24. Chapters II: 15 and II: 23 fight their own civil war by presenting opposing opinions on the desirability of civil war. The Essays are famously “consubstantial” with their author in II: 18, but the chapter in which that assertion appears is itself consubstantial with II: 20, where the only other consubstantiality in Book Two appears. III: 2 and III: 12 steal from each other the theme of hiding one’s theft by both speaking of “larrecins desrobés.” III: 6 and III: 8 borrow from each other the theme of borrowing, each alluding to being rich with a borrowed capacity, with what is not “le sien” [one’s own]. All this playful self-reference may mean that Montaigne does not always mean what he says. For the seriousness of many an assertion may be under- cut—ironized—when its words crop up in a different and apparently unre- lated context somewhere else, and when that somewhere else is a chapter that is not thematically or logically but structurally—which is to say, depend- ing on one’s point of view, esthetically, or arbitrarily—connected to the one in which it was originally found. Of course this irony does not overwhelm everything in the Essays. While the symmetrical doubling reveals the hidden 2. François Rigolot, Les Métamorphoses de Montaigne (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1988), 82. The italics are Rigolot’s. 256 Epilogue value of the otherwise puzzling short chapters, it does not always touch at the heart of the longer ones. For instance, what is shared by I: 32 and I: 26 has nothing to do with the education of children, the latter’s great theme. On the other hand, just about all of I: 32, one of the very brief chapters, finds its double in I: 26. Roughly the first half of II: 34 seems to be in con- versation with the briefer II: 4, including what both say about Julius Caesar, but the entire second half, where Montaigne focuses on other aspects of the man, has no equivalent in the matching chapter. This makes one wonder if there might not be some other structural principle at work here connecting that second half to some other chapter; the most fruitful avenue of approach for finding it may well be the sequential approach championed by Sayce and Meijer. Yet the “nothing” waiting to be discovered at the center of the first of the Essays’ three interconnecting centers—“qui n’entend rien qu’il oye” [who understands nothing that he hears] (Sonnet 15, line 3)—does hold out the teasing suggestion that the Essays are about (at least in a literal sense: built about) precisely that, nothing. At the same time, another tease suggests itself: that he who focuses so intently on this “rien” is not understanding the “rien” he hears. But like the liar paradox, this reads both ways. If it is a warning, it was nevertheless put there on purpose. As Montaigne once said of his cat (II: 12, 452c; 331), who knows if his text is playing with the reader or the reader with the text? 257 Below are most of the lexical echoes connecting symmetrical chapters. Indicated in bold- face are those that appear only in the two chapters in question. Occurrences are based on Roy E. Leake’s Concordance des Essais de Montaigne (Geneva: Droz, 1981). I: 1 / I: 57 1. “commune façon” / “façon commune” 2. “outre . . . prescript” / “prescript . . . outre-passée” [within Book One] 3. “piqué” / “pique” I: 2 / I: 56 1. in the “giron” of “la jouissance” / in the “giron” of “la loi divine” 2. “en son escole & en public” / “publie . . . aux escoles” 3. noncommunicative “contenance” / noncommunicative “contenance” I: 3 / I: 55 1. “descouvrir” / “couvrir” a defect 2. “inhumer,” “inhumer” / “Posthume” 3. “s’emportent” (title), “porter,” “raporter,” “porter,” “porter,” “portoient” / “porter,” “se portent” 4. “attaché,” “attachast”/ “s’attache” 5. “change . . . selon” / “changent . . . selon” APPendix 258 Appendix I: 4 / I: 54 1. “plomb” / “plomb” [within Book One] 2. “un faux subject . . . n’inventons nous” / “un rare subject . . . nostre invention” 3. “rencontre” / “rencontrent,” “se rencontrent” 4. “vain . . . frivole” / “frivoles et vaines” I: 5 / I: 53 1. “dehors . . . sentit . . . faillir” / “hors . . . sentirions . . . defaillantes” 2. “faute de coeur . . . fiance” / “fiance . . . crainte” I: 6 / I: 52 1. “au retour” / “retourner” 2. “desrobées” / “desrobé,” “desrobé” I: 7 / I: 51 1. “effaictz . . . effectuer . . . parole” / “effects . . . babil,” “effectz . . . paroles,” “effects . . . mots,” “motz . . . effect” 2. “faillant à sa parole” / “defaillance” because of “paroles” [1580 only] I: 8 / I: 50 1. “l’oisiveté . . . cheval” / “oysives . . . cheval” 2. “semences,” “semance” / “Semant” 3. “sans ordre, et sans propos” / “sans dessein et sans promesse” (only instances of “sans . . . et sans . . . pro- . . . ” with regard to the Essays’ construction) I: 9 / I: 49 1. “mot . . . en latin” / “mot . . . en Latin” 2. “ se diversifie . . . mesme . . . contraires . . . un mesme” / “un mesme . . .  diverses . . . contraires” I: 10 / I: 48 1. “rouet” / “rouet” (both causing failure) 2. “harangue” / “harangue” (both as one of two harangues) I: 11 / I: 47 1. “à digerer” / “à digerer” (both in the sense of having too much to digest) I: 12 / I: 46 1. “ reculant” / “se recula” (both accompanied by reproaches and an allusion to ancestors) 1: 13 / I: 45 1. “mieux . . . de se faire attendre” / “mieux . . . qu’attendant” 2. “aller au devant” / “ayant envoyé devant” Appendix 259 I: 14 / I: 44 1. “ establissans leurs affaires domestiques” / “apres avoir mis ordre à ses affaires domestiques” 2. “l’unique port” / “du port d’Utique” 3. “ Combien voit-on de personnes populaires & communes” / “voir . . . les grands personnages” 4. Alexander seeking danger instead of repose / Alexander seeking repose in the face of danger I: 15 / I: 43 1. “ la coustume . . . la grandeur du prince” / “grandeur . . . prince . . . la coustume” I: 16 / I: 42 1. “l’Empereur Julien” / “Julien l’Empereur” [within Book One] I: 17 / I: 41 1. not to communicate “à son maistre” / not to communicate “à son maistre” 2. not relaying a message from “l’Empereur Charles cinquiesme” / not relaying a message to “l’Empereur Charles cinquiesme” 3. “communication . . . gloire” / “De ne communiquer sa gloire” (title) 4. acquiring a new “reputation” / abandoning one’s “reputation” I: 18 / I: 40 1. “renger . . . soutenir” / “se soutienent . . . rangez” 2. “se renger . . . teste” / “ranger . . . testes” I: 19 / I: 39 1. “ alongement . . . de vie” [“prolongation . . . de vie” after 1588] / “prolongement de vie” 2. “nostre heur” (title) / “nostre heur” 3. the “bout” of a “vie” / “ce bout de vie” I: 20 / I: 38 1. “enfans . . . masquez” / “masque . . . enfans” 2. “pleurer . . . cent ans” / “siecle . . . larmes” I: 21 / I: 37 1. suicide because of “frayeur” / suicide because of “crainte” 2. “l’essence” / “l’essence” [1580 only] 3. “produit en son front” / “visage . . . produire” 4. un “enfant” as a poor judge of literary value / an “enfant” as a good judge of literary value 5. “veue ferme” / “veue ferme” 260 Appendix I: 22 / I: 36 1. “generale police” / “generale police” 2. “enterremens” / “enterre” I: 23 / I: 35 1. against a new law because the “police” would suffer / in favor of a new law because of a defect in our “polices” (title) I: 24 / I: 34 1. “surpassans . . . sa science” / “Surpassa . . . la science” 2. “il feroit quelque sacrifice” / “il fairoit quelque sacrifice” 3. “ Triumvirs . . . la cruauté des Tyrans” / “la tyrannie du Triumvirat . . . leur cruauté” I: 25 / I: 33 1. “fille . . . nourrie” / “fille . . . / nourrie” 2. “ se desmeler des appats de la volupté” / “De fuir les voluptez au pris de la vie” (title) 3. “ philosophes retirez de toute occupation publique” / “de se retirer de céte presse du monde, à quelque vie solitaire, tranquille & philosophique” I: 26 / I: 32 1. “chastiement” / “chastiemens” (both with rods) [within Book One] 2. “boire chaud, boire froid” / “souffler le chaud & le froid” I: 27 / I: 31 1. “prognostique des choses futures” / “prognostique les choses à venir 2. “se sont laissés piper” / “s’estre laissés piper” 3. “simplesse” associated with falsity / a “simple” person as a source of truth 4. ignorance of a “riviere” leads to unfounded conclusions / knowledge of a “riviere” leads to unfounded conclusions I: 28 / I: 30 1. “si entiere & si parfaite” / “entiere & parfaicte” [within Book One] 2. “ la generation” one of the “fins” of “mariage” [1580 only] / the “principale fin” of “le mariage” is “la generation” 3. “immoderée” / “immoderée” [within Book One] 4. “ès mains” / “maniement” 5. “aspre” / “aspre” II: 1 / II: 37 1. “assortir ces pieces” / “proportionner et rapporter” “ces pieces” 2. “pieces rapportées” / “rapporter” “ces pieces” II: 2 / II: 36 1. “foy en ses parolles” / “foy en ses parolles” 2. “parloit peu” / “parla si peu” Appendix 261 II: 3 / II: 35 1. “ s’alla precipiter en la mer,” “se precipiter en la mer” / “se precipiteroient en la mer” [1580 only] 2. “ le sage vit tant qu’il doit, non pas tant qu’il peut” / “la loy de vivre aus gens de bien ce n’est pas autant qu’il leur plait, mais autant qu’ils doivent” II: 4 / II: 34 1. Amyot’s Plutarch is “nostre breviaire” / Caesar’s Commentaries should be “le breviaire” of any man of war 2. Amyot’s Plutarch praised for its “pureté du langage” / Caesar’s Commentaries praised for “une façon de dire si pure” II: 5 / II: 33 1. “alarmes” / “alarmes” [within Book Two] 2. “gehennes,” “a gehenné” / “geiner” II: 6 / II: 32 1. “pour mort,” “pour mort” / “pour mort” 2. “tirassé” / “tirassé” [within Book Two] 3. “tout meurtry” / “tout meurtry” 4. “perdu . . . sentimens” / “ perdu . . . sentiment” II: 7 / II: 31 1. “nourriture de ses enfans” / “nourriture des enfans” 2. “espandre . . . mespris” / “espandent . . . mesprise” 3. “emploie . . . occasions” / “employe . . . occasions” II: 8 / II: 30 1. “enfans . . . parfaits” / “enfant imparfait” 2. “estrangeté” as a source of profit / “estrangeté” as a source of profit 3. malformed children who “pendent . . . au col” / a malformed child who seemed to “accoler” another and whose limbs were “pendans” 4. “à reculons / “à reculons” II: 9 / II: 29 1. “nations . . . alloient à la guerre sans armes” [altered post-1588] / “nation[s] . . . alloient à la guerre nudz, sauf un glaive” 2. “ nations . . . alloient à la guerre sans armes sans se couvrir, d’autres se couvroient de vaines armes” [altered post-1588] / “nation[s] . . . alloient à la guerre nudz, sauf un glaive . . . & le corps seulement couvert d’un linge blanc” II: 10 / II: 28 1. reading that doesn’t interrupt sleep: “sommeiller” / sleep that doesn’t interrupt reading: “qui n’interrompit pas seulement son sommeil” 262 Appendix II: 11 / II: 27 1. “De la cruauté” (title) / “Couardise mere de la cruauté” (title) 2. “ tout ce qui est au dela de la mort simple me semble pure cruauté” / “Tout ce qui est au dela de la mort simple, me semble pure cruauté” 3. “s’exercer” against something / “s’exercer” against something 4. “ cruellement . . . cruauté . . . mollesse . . . ois . . . gemir” / “mollesse . . . cruels. . . ouyr . . . gemir . . . cruellement” 5. “ames . . . estat . . . desesperées” / “desespoir . . . estat . . . l’ame” 6. “foïter . . . foitez” / “fouëtte” 7. “chien la feste” / “la feste . . . chiens” II: 12 / II: 26 1. “succe”/ “entresucçoint” [within Books One and Two] 2. “entrelassé” involving a finger / “s’entrelasser” involving thumbs 3. “entrelasseures,” “entrelassant,” “entrelassemens” / “s’entrelasser” 4. “excellons sur les” / “exceller sur les” [altered post-1588] 5. “pollere” / “pollere” 6. “pollice” / “pollice” [1580 only] 7. “pouce” / “Des pouces” (title), “pouces” II: 13 / II: 25 1. “ veüe alterée” / “à yeux clos,” “l’oeil gauche bandé . . . éborgnés,” “borgnes . . .  bicles,” “la cecité,” “aveugle,” “la veüe . . . hebetée” II: 14: / II: 24 1. “un grand nombre d’escus” / “trois millions six cens mill’escus” 2. “circonference” / “circonscrit . . . ce cercle” II: 15 / II: 23 1. problematic “abondance” / problematic “superabondance” 2. “ Pour tenir l’amour en haleine,” “pour nous estre remis en haleine” / “pour tenir leurs hommes en haleine” II: 16 / II: 22 1. “raporter nouvelles” / “recevoir . . . nouvelles” 2. “ marque . . . lettre . . . inventions . . . lettre . . . inventions” / “inven- tion . . . marque . . . lettres” II: 17 / II: 21 1. “fay-neant” / “la faineantise” (title) [within Book Two] 2. “ embesongné à céte belle vacation” / “l’ame & le corps embesoignés à choses belles” 3. “ en publicq . . . cracher . . . essuyer le visage” (from perspiration) / “en public . . . cracher ou suer” 4. “monstroit . . . visage à tout sens” / “montrer visage à tous sens” Appendix 263 II: 18 / II: 20 1. “commodité . . . service” / “l’accommoder à nostre service” [altered post-1588] 2. “consubstantiel” / “consubstantialité” [within Book Two] III: 1 / III: 13 1. “ De l’utile et de l’honneste” (title), “qui faict difference, entre les choses utiles, & les honnestes” / “tout ce qui est utile est aussi juste & honneste” [within Book Three] 2. “naturelles . . . mais necessaires” / “la necessité naturelle” 3. a “bastiment” where everything has its place / a “bastiment” where everything has its place 4. “pieds” of an “asne” / “coups de pied” from a “mule” 5. “Esope” / “Esope” [within Book Three] 6. “ chiens” who eat a dead body / “chiens” who try to eat a dead body [within Book Three] 7. “le suffoqua” by water / “soffucast” by water 8. “pendre . . . bourse” / “bourse . . . pendus” 9. “ mesler . . . Epaminondas . . . mesler . . . facilité des meurs” / “facilité . . . Epaminondas . . . mesler . . . meurs” 10. “marioit” disparate things / “mariage” of disparate things [within Book Three] III: 2 / III: 12 1. “ravisemens” / “ravisement” [within Book Three] 2. “Du repentir” (title) / “repentir” 3. “desrobez . . . larrecin” / “Je desrobe mes larrecins” 4. “au dedans” worse than “de deshors” / “au dedans” worse than “au dehors” 5. “hume” / “hume” 6. “son propre venin” / “son propre venin” 7. “s’en empoisonne” / “s’empoisonne” III: 3 / III: 11 1. “ne connois non plus Venus” / “ne cognoit pas Venus” 2. “ soit envers les males, soit envers les femelles . . . fortune” / “la fortune . . . se dict des masles comme des femelles” 3. “pour . . . fuyr” (women fleeing men) / “pour fuir” (women fleeing men) 4. an ill-formed woman’s enticing “mouvement” / an ill-formed woman’s enticing “mouvement” 5. women’s “parties matrimoniales” / women’s “parties genitales” [within Book Three] 6. “l’ame s’y exerce, mais le corps” does not / “sans grand exercice du corps” 7. “dorment . . . les jambes” / “endormit ses jambes” III: 4 / III: 10 1. “peu de chose nous tient” / “peu de choses . . . me tiennent” 2. “la vengeance . . . en distraire” / “en distrayons . . . la vengeance” 3. “rougissant . . . Frivole cause” / “rougir . . . occasion . . . frivole” 4. “constance” when confronted with fire / “constance” when confronted with ice 5. golden “pommes” / golden “pomme” 264 Appendix III: 5 / III: 9 1. “les imperfections” / “Les imperfections” 2. “je corrige” / “je ne corrige pas” 3. “ S’il y a quelque personne d’honneur . . . compagnie . . . mes humeurs . . . je . . . iray” / “s’il advient que mes humeurs . . . quelque honneste homme . . . je . . . irois” 4. “ Misce stultitiam consilius brevem” / “Il faut avoir un peu de folie qui ne veut avoir plus de sottise” 5. “bossu” / “bossu” (as hunchback, and with this spelling) 6. “à un estomac tendre” / “Aux estomacs tendres” 7. “tendron” / “tendrons” 8. “vanité,” “vanité / “vanité” (title) 9. “marriage” as “amitié” / “l’amitié maritale” III: 6 / III: 8 1. “Roy de Mexico” / “Roy . . . de Mexico” [within Book Three] 2. “ donner à un tiers, chose qui n’estoit pas sienne” / “il faut sçavoir ce qui est sien, & ce qui ne l’est point” 3. “ triomphes” / “triomphe” in the sense of a triumphal procession [within Book Three] 4. “nous ne voyons . . . guere arriere” / “Nos yeux ne voient rien en derriere” I: 28 / I: 29 1. “cette souveraine et maistresse amitié ” / “l’amitié souveraine” 2. “ Nous estions à moitié de tout. 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Wright, James R. G. “Virgil’s Pastoral Programme: Theocritus, Callimachus and Eclogue 1.” In Hardie, ed., Virgil: Critical Assessments of Classical Authors: 116–71. 273 Aristotle, 11 Balsamo, Jean, 21, 66n35, 134, 172, 227, 228n4 Baudelaire, Charles, 22–23, 24 Beaujour, Michel, 24 Beck, William J., 117n Blake, William, 23 Blakewell, Sarah, 227n2 Blum, Claude, 21 Bowen, Barbara, 44n, 119 Brahami, Frédéric, 11–12 Brody, Jules, 24, 198–99, 203, 221–24 Brooks, Cleanth, 23–24 Brown, Frieda S., 27, 52–53 Butor, Michel, 4–8, 41, 45, 247 Catullus, 15–17, 22–23 Cave, Terence, 251n Charpentier, Françoise, 117, 235 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 23 Claes, Paul, 15–17 Compagnon, Antoine, 14 Corbeill, Anthony, 164n Coste, Pierre, 21–22 Cottrell Robert D., 117n Dacos, Nicole, 7 Delègue, Yves, 8, 222n11, 226–27, 253 Desan, Philippe, 228–29 Douglas, Mary 18–19 Duval, Edwin, 18, 19, 27, 45n, 218–20 Fenoaltea, Doranne, 18 Filho, Celso Martins Azar, 26 Frame, Donald, 2n2, 228, 242n Friedrich, Hugo, 27 Garavini, Fausta, 32n13, 160 Gendre, André, 228n5 Glauser, Alfred, 10 Gournay, Marie de, 20–21, 228 Gray, Floyd, 117n Hampton, Timothy, 83n Harpham, Geoffrey, 3 Henry, Patrick, 1n, 9n15, 228n5 Herodotus, 58 index OF nAmes 274 Index of Names Hoffmann, George, 52 Homer, 14–15 Horace, 4, 16–17, 23 Jakobson, Roman, 19–20 Jean d’Udine, 7n10 Jeanneret, Michel, 254 Kritzman, Lawrence D., 26, 240n La Boétie, Étienne de, 2, 30n, 186–87. See also I: 28; I: 29. La Charité, Raymond C., 115n La Fontaine, Jean de, 22–23 Leake, Roy E., 4 Legros, Alain, 4n6 Logan, J. L., 252n Maclean, Ian, 49n Macphail, Eric, 214n Magnien, Michel, 228n5 Martin, Daniel, 2n2 Mathieu-Castellani, Gisèle, 12–13, 145n, 247n Maury, Paul, 15, 16n29 McKinley, Mary, 166 Mehlman, Jeffrey, 228n5 Meijer, Marianne, 24, 179n23, 216, 256 Milton, John, 23–24 Montesquieu, 22–23 Morales, Helen, 22 Most, Glenn W., 14 Nakam, Géralde, 7n11, 8n13 Naya, Emmanuel, 2, 3, 246–47 Nero, 2–3 Nicoletto da Modena, 6–7 Ovid, 128, 166, 255 Pérouse, Gabriel-André, 115, 228n5 Peytavin, Sylvie, 214n Pinturicchio, 7n10 Plato, 233–34 Plutarch, 30n, 127–28, 130–31, 205–6. See also II: 32. Pouilloux, Jean-Yves, 10n16 Quint, David, 27 Rabelais, François, 18, 19 Raphael, 7n10 Reeser, Todd W., 117n Regosin, Richard, 166n, 226 Rendall, Steven, 27n6 Rigolot, François, 227, 254–55 Ronsard, Pierre de, 18, 21 Rudd, Niall, 16n29 Santirocco, Matthew S., 16–17 Sayce, R. A., 11, 24, 256 Scève, Maurice, 18 Schaefer, David Lewis, 117n Scholar, Richard, 60–61 Screech, M. A., 52n26, 135, 228 Segal, Charles, 16n28 Sève, Bernard, 43n Singleton, Charles S., 252n Skutsch, Otto, 15–16 Starobinski, Jean, 90n39 Tarrête, Alexandre, 52, 53 Tetel, Marcel, 30n Theocritus, 16 Tournon, André, 1n, 5–8, 10–11, 13, 19, 20–21, 52–53, 62n, 120n, 125n, 216–17, 242, 254 Villey, Pierre, 2n2, 13, 26, 155n, 228 Virgil, 15–16, 23 Vitruvius, 3 Wheeler, Kip, 23 Whitman, Cedric W., 14–15 Wright, James R. G., 16 275 Principal references are in boldface. Au lecteur, 47, 61 I: 1, 10, 26–31, 78 I: 2, 10, 17, 31–36 I: 3, 36–40 I: 4, 5, 41–49, 76 I: 5, 49–51, 52–53 I: 6, 52–55 I: 7, 55–58 I: 8, 12–13, 58–62, 119–20, 238–39 I: 9, 5, 63–66, 69, 70, 255 I: 10, 9, 66–70, 251–52 I: 11, 5, 70–72 I: 12, 5, 72–74 I: 13, 74–75 I: 14, 21, 75–78, 252 I: 15, 78–80 I: 16, 80–82, 83 I: 17, 82–84 I: 18, 84–88 I: 19, 45, 88–90 I: 20, 5, 90–92 I: 21, 5, 34n14, 92–95 I: 22, 5, 95–96 I: 23, 96–98 I: 24, 5, 17, 86, 98–102, 253–54, 255 I: 25, 102–5, 162 I: 26, 106–9, 162, 233n9, 255, 256 I: 27, 5, 109–12 I: 28, 1–8, 25, 112–18, 121, 144–45, 219–20, 225–27, 232, 233n9, 234, 236, 240 I: 29, 4–8, 30n, 45, 46, 48, 112–18, 219, 225–52, 256 I: 30, 5, 112–18, 218, 228–29 I: 31, 109–12, 164, 228–29, 237–38 I: 32, 5, 7, 106–9, 255, 256 I: 33, 5, 102–5 I: 34, 5, 98–102, 254, 255 I: 35, 96–98 I: 36, 5, 95–96, 218 I: 37, 5, 92–95 I: 38, 90–92 I: 39, 45, 52n27, 88–90 I: 40, 18–19, 20–21, 52n27, 84–88, 125 I: 41, 20–21, 82–84 index tO tHe Essays 276 Index to the essays I: 42, 80–82, 83, 242 I: 43, 78–80 I: 44, 5, 75–78, 154 I: 45, 74–75 I: 46, 72–74 I: 47, 5, 70–72 I: 48, 66–70 I: 49, 63–66, 70, 255 I: 50, 13, 58–62, 120 I: 51, 5, 55–58 I: 52, 52–55 I: 53, 5, 49–51 I: 54, 41–49, 76 I: 55, 36–40, 52n24 I: 56, 10, 17, 31–36 I: 57, 10, 26–31 II: 1, 8–9, 12, 119–21, 254 II: 2, 121–25, 164 II: 3, 125–30 II: 4, 130–32, 256 II: 5, 132–36 II: 6, 136–41 II: 7, 141–43 II: 8, 11, 143–48, 166, 255 II: 9, 149–51 II: 10, 10, 11, 151–55, 251–52 II: 11, 5, 7–8, 125, 155–59 II: 12, 44, 64n, 159–67, 255 II: 13, 167–72, 173, 255 II: 14, 172–76 II: 15, 10, 176–79 II: 16, 179–82 II: 17, 9–10, 21, 182–87, 233n9 II: 18, 12–13, 187–89, 255 II: 19, 4, 45, 48, 116n, 240–49 II: 20, 187–89, 255 II: 21, 182–87, 242 II: 22, 179–82 II: 23, 10, 176–79 II: 24, 172–76 II: 25, 167–72, 173, 255 II: 26, 159–67, 255 II: 27, 5, 7–8, 125, 155–59 II: 28, 143–48 II: 29, 5, 149–51, 238 II: 30, 13, 143–48, 254, 255 II: 31, 141–43 II: 32, 136–41 II: 33, 132–36 II: 34, 130–32, 256 II: 35, 125–30 II: 36, 30n9, 121–25 II: 37, 12, 119–21, 128 III: 1, 190–97, 208 III: 2, 8, 9, 197–203, 221, 255 III: 3, 203–9 III: 4, 209–13 III: 5, 11, 179n23, 196, 208, 213–17 III: 6, 217–24, 255 III: 7, 4, 45, 48, 116n, 240, 244–49 III: 8, 11, 162, 217–24, 255 III: 9, 10–12, 14, 43–44, 161n, 162, 199, 213–17, 235 III: 10, 209–13 III: 11, 203–9, 233n9 III: 12, 186–87, 197–203, 221, 233n9, 251, 255, 256 III: 13, 140–41, 190–97 
work_iqzuoh7f4naqvnr5vxkcvhdqx4	----	S0008938919000736jra 382..401 The Notion of Nobility and the Impact of Ennoblement on Early Modern Central Europe Klaus Margreiter ABSTRACT. This article discusses the problem of why there was a constant demand for ennoble- ment in seventeenth- and eighteenth-century Central Europe, even though those who aspired to it had little or no prospect of integration into the established feudal nobility. Nobility was first and foremost an ideological concept closely connected to power and rule. The Holy Roman emperors ennobled persons who exercised power precisely because, in the premodern social order, the exercise of power was a prerogative of the nobility. However, the newly ennobled had only their title in common with the old aristocratic families and rarely attained the other priv- ileges enjoyed by these families. For this reason, the emperors’ practice of ennoblement gradually reshaped the nobility as a whole and simultaneously the ideological notion of nobility. Certainly, ennoblement still served a strategic purpose in the context of social advancement. Particularly for civil servants and military officers, it was the most effective means of preserving their newly acquired status for their descendants and possibly establishing their families in a new bureaucratic and military hereditary elite, which in some places coexisted with the old aristocracy. The central element of the new ideological concept was the notion of the nobility as a hereditary ruling class, both qualified for and entitled to the exercise of power on account of inherited superiority. Der Aufsatz erörtert das Problem, warum im Mitteleuropa des 17. und 18. Jahrhunderts eine anhaltende Nachfrage nach Adelstiteln bestand, obwohl eine Integration in den alten Feudaladel sehr unwahrscheinlich war. Adel war zunächst ein ideologisches Konzept, das eng mit Herrschaft und Macht verbunden war. Die römischen Kaiser erhoben Personen in den Adelsstand, die Herrschaft ausübten, weil in der vormodernen Gesellschaftsordnung Herrschaftsausübung nur dem Adel zukam. Neunobilitierte teilten aber mit den alten Familien lediglich den Titel und gelangten selten in den Genuss von Privilegien, über die alte Familien verfügten. Aus diesem Grund veränderte die kaiserliche Nobilitierungspraxis langfristig den Adel insgesamt und damit zugleich seine ideologische Konzeption. Allerdings konnte die Nobilitierung einem strategischen Zweck im Zusammenhang mit sozialer Aufstiegsmobilität dienen. Für Beamte und Offiziere war der Adelsstand die wirksamste Absicherung des erreichten Status für die Nachkommen und konnte die Familie eventuell in einer Beamten- und Militäradelsgruppe verankern, die sich an manchen Orten neben dem alten Adel entwickelte. Das Kernelement der neuen ideologischen Adelskonzeption bildete die Vorstellung des Adels als erblichem Herrschaftsstand, der kraft ererbter Überlegenheit zur Ausübung von Herrschaft sowohl qualifiziert als auch berechtigt war. Introduction T HE question of why a person would want to become a noble in early modern Central Europe appears at first sight a pointless one to ask. So unchallenged was the nobility’s position at the upper end of society and so high was its prestige that a commoner’s desire for a share in those advantages is entirely understandable. In the course of the sixteenth Central European History 52 (2019), 382–401. © Central European History Society of the American Historical Association, 2019 doi:10.1017/S0008938919000736 382 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core century, the nobility came to occupy the highest ranks of society, and in the following century its social, political, and cultural hegemony was fully in place. A commoner’s decision to seek ennoblement for himself is therefore, from the point of view of a present-day observer, not only immediately comprehensible but also perfectly rational. Yet, if we bear in mind that unconcealed ambition to improve one’s status and to seek social advancement fundamentally contradicted the premodern conception of the role of commoners in society, the assumption that aspirations for ennoblement were simply the result of rational career- planning becomes less satisfactory. Although far from uncommon in itself, ennoblement was by no means the standard avenue for social advancement. On the contrary, promoting somebody into another estate remained the exception; an exception moreover that had to be well founded in each individual case, as it constituted an infringement of the principles on which social order rested. Certainly, anybody could theoretically become wealthy and pow- erful through personal hard work, but this did not by itself imply the ability to claim a higher social rank. One’s place in the social order was hardly affected by such considerations as wealth or other status factors that were dependent on individual endeavor. In everyday life, a nobleman, even an impoverished one, was always given preference over a commoner, no matter how rich and distinguished he was. Nevertheless, ambition seems to have been the main reason for attempts to be raised to the ranks of the nobility. But in following their ambition, aspirants had to expect rebuke from two sides for setting their sights too high. For noblemen, ambition was an important feature of their social identity, and it was considered a sine qua non particularly for those who pursued a military career.1 Moreover, every nobleman was expected to display ambition in the defense and furtherance of his personal honor and of the honor of his family. In a commoner, however, this would not only have been unbecoming, it would also have been considered by the nobility as an encroachment on the code of conduct of that commoner’s betters. In a non-noble context, ambition could evoke associations with envy and could possibly have been perceived as a moral lapse. Signaling an intention to leave one’s place in society in search of a more exalted place could ruin a community of equals and harm the atmosphere of solidarity among its members. The intention of attaining ennoblement was an even more risk-fraught undertaking by the seventeenth century, when social climbers could no longer count on becoming integrated into the aristocracy. The odds were high for them to end up in social limbo. In the period that George Huppert deals with in his book on French Renaissance elites, the reasons for seeking ennoblement were perfectly clear.2 Sixteenth-century bourgeois merchants could expect considerable long-term return on investments, if part of their capital was used to secure an ennobling office. As nobles, they stood to enjoy a number of lucrative privileges. They were entitled to purchase noble land and were eligible for fiscal exemption, which was particularly gratifying. Although the amount of financially relevant privileges and the legal conditions for enjoying them varied between states and even between regions, the net benefit was always substantial and worth the investment. Ennoblement entailed a significant enhancement of status, and the investment required 1Jonathan Dewald, Aristocratic Experience and the Origins of Modern Culture: France, 1570–1715 (Berkeley, Los Angeles, and Oxford: University of California Press, 1993), 25, 43–46. 2George Huppert, Les Bourgeois Gentilshommes: An Essay on the Definition of Elites in Renaissance France (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1977). THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 383 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core was easily retrieved through regular salary and seigneurial rents. This strategy enabled numer- ous families to alter their social profile completely within three generations from industrious urban businesspeople to respected royal officeholders with a seigneurial background or to country squires without any practical employment at all. In the seventeenth century, however, the situation changed completely. Once they had established themselves as the state’s administrative elite, the newly ennobled families joined the old aristocracy in closing ranks against the next wave of upstarts. Generally speaking, social mobility ceased to be a fairly commonplace phenomenon in society. Although social advancement was never the norm in the full sense of the word, it did occur, and the public (including the old aristocracy) had been relatively tolerant of exceptions. Various explanations have been given for this sudden change. Most historians agree that it was the state that put an end to unchecked usurpation when its officials assumed control over social mobility. In sociological terms, however, the closing off of elite groups is seen as a consequence of their consolidation. Once established, groups generally try to define their identities by stressing the differences that set them apart. This results in demarcation lines between themselves and others; defining a group therefore usually means blocking access to it for newcomers. Early modern nobility provides a fine instance of this. Ambitious social climbers were the first to feel the adverse effects of this development. The road to the top became ever more arduous. Even for the most enterprising, there was little prospect of joining the nobility under the changed conditions and, in fact, only a lucky few managed to penetrate the upper ranks of nobility. People at the time must have been aware that it was extremely unlikely for them to make it into the aristocracy, regardless of how determined they were to oblige both in terms of the required investment and conduct. Moreover, in closing ranks, the beneficial and profitable noble privileges became an almost exclusive preserve of the old nobility: nobles were relatively undertaxed through- out the early modern period, but their privileged tax status was gradually eroding by the sev- enteenth century.3 Only if a noble’s revenue was primarily based on landed property legally defined as noble and as entail could such privileges bring substantial return. This was rarely the case with the newly ennobled. Furthermore, the high church positions that were so much in demand, particularly the rank of canon, came to be reserved for the offspring of ancient lineages because they required proof of noble ancestry. In addition to the general odium that was attached to social progression anyway, this could have been another good reason to put aside plans to strive for ennoblement. In this essay, I discuss some of the problems inherent in the question of why so many people persisted in their wish for ennoblement in conditions that made it unlikely for the result to come up to their (or our) expectations. At worst, after all, they risked the kind of ridicule heaped on Monsieur Jourdain in Molière’s Le Bourgeois Gentil-Homme. What returns did they expect when they applied for ennoblement in the seventeenth or eighteenth century? There must have been additional reasons that made noble status highly desirable or even necessary, despite its inability to automatically open up a path into the coterie of the old families. As long as ennoblement continued to be an important stepping-stone on the route of social advancement, noble status remained highly desirable, as I would like to propose, for 3Michael L. Bush, The European Nobility: Noble Privilege, vol. 1 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1983), 28–39, 63–64. KLAUS MARGREITER384 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core the following three reasons. First, being a potent status symbol, a noble title enabled com- moners to demonstrate a high level of worldly success, which was particularly valuable to those who could not afford more costly means of representation. This was especially impor- tant for the growing class of professionals and officials, but in some cases also for merchant- class entrepreneurs. Second, concentrating on such a well-established and highly esteemed status symbol made sense because of the prestige attached to it. The newly ennobled shared in the social capital that accrued from the nobility’s long and glorious history by fol- lowing in the footsteps traditionally associated with the nobility. And third, as opposed to all other material status symbols, noble status was forever. Its loss presupposed a serious breach of the code of conduct on the part of the noble person. Noblemen commanded the respect of society even when they lacked the means to keep up the bright appearance of the rich. To an extent, noble status dispensed its holders from the constant struggle for wealth and prestige. Members of the nobility and their descendants were visibly a cut above the common people, and they were assured of remaining there for life. Clearly, these points refer primarily to the symbolic aspect of nobility, which was to become its most important feature in the course of the development in question. The Benefit of Noble Status Generally speaking, nobility is a very special type of status in which modern concepts of status do not apply. Moreover, an understanding of nobility as an early modern social phenomenon is not helped by the ambiguity that is attached to the term nobility as used by historians. In order to avoid confusion, we can roughly distinguish among three meanings. First, the nobil- ity was a tangible historical phenomenon. It was a group or a set of groups of families whose members shared a similar economic basis, similar privileges, specific status symbols, and a similar lifestyle.4 On a regional level, face-to-face interaction and a more or less close family relationship was typical. When historians talk about nobility as a social and political factor, they usually refer to this tangible aspect of the term. Second, the nobility was a legal entity, that is, it was an entity protected by the law. People who enjoyed noble status were legally entitled to certain privileges, such as specific types of land ownership, fiscal and judicial exemptions, status symbols such as titles and coats of arms, and preeminence in the public space. Nobles whose nobility was only nominal did not belong to the group, which is commonly referred to as the nobility. Finally, nobility, in the sociological sense of the term, is a general social phenomenon. It can be characterized as a particular type of elite that reproduces its status biologically. According to this very general understand- ing, nobility occurs whenever a distinguished person has successfully transmitted her or his status to her or his kin. If one’s status is primarily based on wealth, this kind of nobility is easy to obtain because the family inherits the status along with the fortune. But this mech- anism also applies to meritocratic elites with a more modest economic background. The process of dynasty-building invariably takes place in all societies irrespective of their historical background. Distinguishing among the different meanings of the term nobility not only clarifies its semantic content, but enables us to gain a better perspective on the notion of nobility 4With regard to its lifestyle, the nobility met the criteria of a milieu because most of its members had cultural, aesthetic, and political values in common. THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 385 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core itself. This is particularly useful for our attempt to explain why ennoblement did not cease to be attractive for commoners once it had lost its material attractions. Figure 1 shows the cons- tant demand for noble status in the period under consideration on the basis of a random sample of 3,528 cases covering 20 percent of all registered imperial ennoblements.5 The data comprises applications for ennoblement throughout the empire including the Low Countries and parts of Italy. It includes both acts of ennoblement the emperors conferred as heads of the empire (Reichsadelsstand) and as heads of the Habsburg monarchy (erbländischer Adelsstand).6 Given that people in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were aware of the legal and sociological aspect of nobility, they were likely to perceive that obtaining a noble rank could safeguard their social status for their future generations and transfer their material wealth into the most solid form of symbolic capital. Its main benefit seems to have been its potential to place a family once and for all on the highest level in the hierarchy of honors by providing them with the symbols of highest esteem. A noble title could achieve what individual eco- nomic success or high office alone failed to attain: enduring and sustainable prestige, which was independent of material circumstances. For wealthy merchants and artisans, ennoblement was unlikely to make any significant difference concerning their practical living conditions. Acquiring such options as the right for a daughter to retreat to a convent reserved for the nobility or for a son to take up a career as a military officer added prestige to the family name and enhanced its reputation, yet the benefits were largely symbolic and came at a price. But that was exactly what it was all about: by enabling these burghers to leave their bourgeois standing behind, ennoble- ment compensated them for the relative lack of dignity commercial pursuits.7 Conversely, being noble without living nobly was potentially equally incommensurate. The financially hard-pressed officials of the lower and middle ranks of the administration were in a particularly awkward situation. During his stay in Salzburg in 1777, Kaspar Riesbeck encountered many nobles serving the local prince, who complained that the state did not provide for them according to their status. Riesbeck, though, was unable to tell their status because they neither resembled the highly ranking aristocracy dwelling at court nor did they ever mingle with commoners. Nonetheless, they strongly insisted on being addressed invariably as “Euer Gnaden,” and ladies would regard it as a painful insult to be addressed as “Madame.”8 Case studies on Baden-Durlach, Brandenburg-Ansbach, Brandenburg-Bayreuth, Hannover, Osnabruck, and Württemberg provide further evidence 5The data is taken from Karl Friedrich von Frank, Standeserhebungen und Gnadenakte für das Reich und die Erblande Standeserhebungen und Gnadenakte für das Reich und die Erblande bis 1806 (Schloss Senftenegg, 1967), which is an alphabetical list of the grants of ennoblement at the Adelsarchiv (Archive of Nobility) at the Austrian State Archive. Strictly speaking, the data constitute a clinical sample because failed attempts were not recorded. Thus, the analysis is somewhat biased, and the informative value of its result is limited. Klaus Margreiter, “Konzept und Bedeutung des Adels im Absolutismus” (PhD diss., European University Institute, 2005), 208–16. 6We know the applicant’s place of habitation in only 55 percent of all cases. Among these cases, 42 percent were inhabitants of the Habsburg Monarchy. 7For commoners, it was of course perfectly honorable to engage successfully in trade and business. For noblemen, however, trade and all kinds of commercial pursuits were totally beyond the pale, and the more successful a businessman was, the more suspect he was in the eyes of the nobility. 8Johann Kaspar Riesbeck, Briefe eines reisenden Franzosen über Deutschland an seinen Bruder zu Paris. Übersetzt v. K(aspar) R(iesbeck), vol. 1, 2nd ed. (Zürich, 1785), 156. KLAUS MARGREITER386 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core for the specific needs and conditions of a service nobility.9 For them, ennoblement became a necessary condition to maintain their status. This group compensated for their lack of wealth by ostentatiously insisting on the symbols of their elevated position. It was evidently a matter of status inconsistency when men laying claim to this kind of position were constantly in danger of derogation on account of insufficient income. The only possible way of preventing loss of status was for them to rely on their patron’s favor and on the protection that a noble name traditionally conferred. This was most likely one of the reasons why officials began to obtain noble status on a massive scale by the seventeenth century. Johann B. Martin Arand, a high-ranking official at Altdorf (k.k. Oberamtsrat and Landschreiber), stated in his letter of application in 1798 that his current status as a commoner was not only demeaning to him personally but hurtful to the reputation of his office as well. Granting him nobility, he reasoned, would increase the effectiveness of his work.10 By far the greatest number of imperial ennoblements was Fig. 1: The trend of imperial ennoblement 1600–1800. 9Joachim Lampe, Aristokratie, Hofadel und Staatpatriziat in Kurhannover. Die Lebensweise der höheren Beamten an den kurhannoverischen Zentral- und Hofbehörden 1714–1760 (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck & Ruprecht, 1963); Christine van den Heuvel, Beamtenschaft und Territorialstaat. Behördenentwicklung und Sozialstruktur der Beamtenschaft im Hochstift Osnabrück 1550–1800. (Osnabrück: Kommissionsverlag H. Th. Wenner 1984); Bernd Wunder, “Die Sozialstruktur in den Geheimratskollegien in den süddeutschen protestantischen Fürstentümern (1660–1720): Zum Verhältnis von sozialer Mobilität und Briefadel im Absolutismus,” Vierteljahrschrift für Sozial- und Wirtschaftsgeschichte 58 (1971): 145–220. 10Adelsakt Johann B. Martin Arand 1798, Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Allgemeines Verwaltungsarchiv. More on Martin Arand in Johann B. Martin Arand, In Vorderösterreichs Amt und Würden. Lebendige Vergangenheit. Zeugnisse und Erinnerungen. Schriftenreihe des Württ. Geschichts- und Altertumsvereins no. 19 (Stuttgart: Kohlhammer, 1996). In Bavaria, though, the government seemed to successfully constrain THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 387 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core allotted to officials and military officers.11 As a consequence, in the Habsburg monarchy, the lower ranks of nobility came to be associated with the emerging service nobility.12 In its orig- inal function, ennoblement had been a reward for long-standing service and loyalty. This was now almost reversed: noble status became a sine qua non for the career of officials who wanted to obtain the position of councillor or an even more exalted one. The more the ranks of civil servants swelled with lower nobility, the more newcomers were expected to follow suit and seek ennoblement in their turn; if they did not, they risked being treated as inferiors by their colleagues and by the people they were supposed to govern.13 It is important to note that in Central Europe the service nobility did not merge with the landed nobility. Neither did it create an alternative model of nobility comparable to the noblesse de robe in France. Office-holding also did not impart automatic ennoblement as in France, nor did the acquisition of a noble estate alone prepare the way for nobility.14 Beamtenadel (the service nobility) never approached the long-standing noble elites in terms of influence and wealth, nor did they even attempt to rival the aristocracy’s social dominance. Most of its members simply did not have the means for independent power; only a few had the resources necessary to sustain a lifestyle in keeping with their rank. Hardly any opted for the noble lifestyle based on feudal traditions and land ownership that was the crucial criterion of real noblesse for the landed nobility. To hold noble estates, which implied membership in the local diets and maintaining some independence from the princes, contrasted even the ancient but shrinking and increasingly impoverished knightly lineages (Ritterstand) with most of the newly titled service nobility. A closer look into noble pedigrees of the seven- teenth and eighteenth centuries reveals that even those members of old families who needed to take employment in the administration never intermarried with newly ennobled families and that noble marriage circles remained largely closed. the evolution of a service nobility as a group. See Erwin Riedenauer, “Zur Entstehung und Ausformung des landesfürstlichen Briefadels in Bayern,” Zeitschrift für bayerische Landesgeschichte 47 (1984): 609–72. 11P. G. M. Dickson, Finance and Government under Maria Theresia: Society and Government, vol. 1 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1987), 79–80; Michael Hochedlinger, “Mars Ennobled: The Ascent of the Military and the Creation of a Military Nobility in Mid-Eighteenth-Century,” German History 17 (1999): 141–76. 12The title of Freiherr (baron) and the simple nobiliary particle “von” between first name and surname were characteristics of service-nobility families until the end of the German and Austro-Hungarian monarchies. They were usually augmented with an ornate but noble sounding Prädikat, for instance: Merz von Merzburg, Dellacher von Dellachsperg. As a consequence, most families of ancient origin, especially in the Bohemian and Austrian lands, forthwith acquired higher titles, such as Graf (count) and Fürst (prince) in order to keep social distances intact. The difference in rank and the peculiar form of the new titles made it easy to tell the old nobility from the new service nobility. S. Johannes Arndt, “Zwischen kollegialer Solidarität und persönlichem Aufstiegsstreben. Die Reichsgrafen im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert,” in Der europäische Adel im Ancien Régime. Von der Krise der ständischen Monarchien bis zur Revolution (ca. 1600–1789), ed. Ronald G. Asch (Wien: Böhlau, 2001), 123. 13Josef Matzerath, “Der Adel und sein Funktionswandel in der Öffentlichkeit,” in Aristokratismus und Moderne. Adel als politisches und kulturelles Konzept, 1890–1945, eds. Eckhard Conze, Wencke Meteling, Jörg Schuster, Jochen Strobel, Adelswelten Bd. 1. – (Wien: Böhlau, 2013), 82; Martin D. Sagebiel, Die Problematik der Qualifikation bei den Baierischen Standeserhebungen zwischen 1651 und 1799 (PhD diss., Phillips-Universität Marburg, 1964), 372. 14Whether non-noble persons were legally permitted to purchase noble estates varied widely from region to region and was subject to respective legal customs. In any case, it was regarded as an irregularity, at least on the part of the nobility. KLAUS MARGREITER388 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core For the newly ennobled, even if they had wanted to return to the fold of their group of origin, there was no turning back once they had assumed noble status. As a status group that had monopolized the sphere of administration to a large extent and that enjoyed the favor of the rulers, however, they were strong enough to establish themselves as a kind of separate lower upper class between the landed nobility and the bourgeoisie.15 As a new class without tradition but with considerable influence, the administrative elite was in need of viable symbolic devices to strengthen their claim to privileged status. For officials, a noble title thus served as a status symbol that indicated membership in the administrative elite and justified their social position as a whole.16 For the children of ennobled officials, the family title was probably the only asset they stood to inherit, but there is no doubt it was a most valuable one. They were the first to benefit substantially from their parents’ investments. Their titles and their good names were the most important qualifications for a future career and in many cases the only ones that really carried weight. Economically dependent as they were, they were in need of privileged access to the sphere of governmental decision-making. The people who mattered—most of them high-ranking nobles of ancient extraction—were unlikely to asso- ciate even with eminent officials if they were too inferior in rank. In a period in which the society of contacts had not yet fully replaced the society of orders, noble status paved the way both to court circles, where opportunities, grants, and honors were distributed, and to private circles, where appointments were negotiated in an informal setting. A title, to be sure, was never a membership card for high society, but it could be an entrance ticket.17 In practice, however, it was the title that qualified a name for a place on the invitation list.18 If sons intended to follow their fathers into the civil service, they required exactly the kind of support that only connections could achieve. Furthermore, nobles in general and the sons of noble officials in particular were invariably given preference over commoners when it came to filling vacancies and the granting of promotions. Veit Ludwig von Seckendorff, a renowned expert in administration, stated that non-noble officials had to compensate for their lack of noble status with better professional skills.19 In fact, the service nobility benefited more from this significant aspect of noble status than the landed nobility, who had other ways and means at their disposal. Nobility was therefore an asset to its bearer, one that made up for concrete talents and skills; nobility meant being somebody before you became somebody.20 15Wunder, “Die Sozialstruktur in den Geheimratskollegien in den süddeutschen protestantischen Fürstentümern (1660–1720),” 219. 16Jonathan Dewald, The European Nobility, 1400–1800 (Cambridge, 1996), 192, 199–200; Hillay Zmora, Monarchy, Aristocracy and the State in Europe, 1300–1800 (London: Routledge, 2001), 101–02; Samuel Clark, State and Status: The Rise of the State and Aristocratic Power in Western Europe (Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 1995), 163–86. 17Nikolaus von Preradovich’s aperçu. See Gerhard Dilcher, “Der alteuropäische Adel—ein verfassungs- geschichtlicher Typus?” in Europäischer Adel 1750–1950, ed. Hans Ulrich Wehler (Göttingen: Vandenhoeck + Ruprecht Gm, 1990), 80. 18Friedhelm Guttandin, Das paradoxe Schicksal der Ehre: Zum Wandel der adeligen Ehre und zur Bedeutung von Duell und Ehre für den monarchischen Zentralstaat. Schriften zur Kultursoziologie 13, ed. J. Stagl (Berlin: Reimer, 1993), 183. 19Veit Ludwig von Seckendorff, Teutscher Fürsten-Staat (Jena, 1754), 92. First published in 1656. 20Beatrix Bastl, “Haus und Haushaltung des Adels in den österreichischen Erblanden im 17. und 18. Jahrhundert,” in Der europäische Adel im Ancien Régime. Von der Krise der ständischen Monarchien bis zur Revolution (ca. 1600–1789), ed. Ronald G. Asch (Köln, Weimar, Wien: Böhlau, 2001), 283. THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 389 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core This did not mean, as has been argued, that social advancement became generally more difficult as a result.21 On the contrary, in technical terms, obtaining noble status was easier than ever when ennoblement became a simple administrative act. But as the act of ennoble- ment only conferred the legal status (nobility as a legal entity according to the aforemen- tioned definition) and the symbols assigned to nobility, the actual status of newly created noblemen was far from clear. Accordingly, the validity of ennoblement by imperial grant was constantly under debate.22 It clearly did not create the kind of nobles that the old aris- tocracy was prepared to accept as equals. The old families were not at all impressed by the hundreds of letters patent churned out by the Viennese chancelleries. This leads to another basic aspect of nobility that has not yet attracted the attention it deserves. Monique de Saint Martin has pointed out that the very existence of nobility depends on whether one believes in the innate substantial superiority of the nobly born.23 The case of the newly-created nobility clearly shows that this not only applies to Saint Martin’s twentieth-century France. The fact that noble status lacked definite criteria as regards its social role and appearance reduced the acceptance of someone as a genuine member of the nobility to a matter of opinion. Of course, the emperor expected all his sub- jects—including the aristocracy—to respect his decision to ennoble whoever he deemed fit and to treat them according to their new status, but everybody was still free to decide who to socialize with.24 The emperor’s subjects did indeed abide by their sovereign’s will. In public, in official contexts, and in personal interaction, newly-created nobles were invariably addressed in a meticulously correct manner, and no information about the actual standing of the person addressed could possibly have been inferred from this formal way in which they were addressed. This situation closely resembled the strategy of the French gentry, as described by George Huppert.25 Newcomers acquired the trappings of noble status in order to conceal their real social background. If we want to understand the mechanism that made this strategy work, we have to intro- duce distinctions that were alien to the people of the time. Formally, families who received noble status in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries belonged to the second estate, but they only did so in the legal sense of the word. Most of them did not even try to pretend to have genuine noble descent by producing false genealogies or by adopting a consistently noble appearance, as the French gentry did. Imperial ennoblement did not renew the old aristocracy; in reality, it created a new kind of nobility, one that hardly ever lived nobly but was nevertheless legally entitled to make use of noble prerogatives and of all the advan- tages of a privileged and highly prestigious status. If we are led to the assumption that we are dealing here with a newly emerging elite, the whole issue of nobility as a device for social advancement must be reconsidered. For newcomers wishing to reproduce their status in 21Zmora, Monarchy, Aristocracy and the State in Europe, 1300–1800, 11, 29. 22Klaus Bleek and Jörn Garber, “Nobilitas: Standes- und Privilegienlegitimation in deutschen Adelstheorien des 16. und 17. Jahrhunderts,” Daphnis 11 (1982): 49–114. 23Monique de Saint Martin, L’Espace de la noblesse (Paris: Editions Métailié, 1993). 24Cases in which some authority did not recognize imperial grants of ennoblement, which sometimes occurred in imperial cities, provoked sharp reactions from the government. The emperor could not tolerate such disobedience, particularly if imperial prerogatives were at stake. See the cases of Markus Tobias Neubronner, 1692, and Johann Friedrich Sichart, 1696, both at Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Allgemeines Verwaltungsarchiv, Adelsarchiv. 25Huppert, Les Bourgeois Gentilshommes, 23. KLAUS MARGREITER390 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core the most effective way, nobility was obviously the best possible means. The key factor in this strategy was the ambiguity in the notion of nobility. The term nobility not only denoted a tangible social group or an order, but a certain state of honor and social grace as well. It was from the latter aspect that the nobility derived its privileged status and formally justified its existence. Furthermore, the symbols of noble status principally referred to noble honor. All the titles and specific forms of address, sumptuous clothing, and armorial bearings did not convey noble power as such but functioned, as it were, as exclamation marks clamoring for that person to be treated with the utmost respect. Symbols, in turn, can confer power if they are cleverly employed. The right to sit where others must stand, the right to ride where others must walk, among many others, were prone to inspire an internalized and habitual sense of reverence in commoners exposed to these pre- rogatives on a routine basis. Honorific privileges elicited a response of respect and deference in everyday interaction. A person with such privileges had to be treated with respect regard- less of whether she or he was considered to “deserve” it either on account of position or per- sonal qualities. But as honors were originally intended essentially to symbolize respectability and quality of character, anyone who was distinguished as honorable was regarded as endowed with superior morals and accomplishments. This reputed superiority, in turn, justified the claim for leadership in nearly all situations of everyday life and doubtlessly con- tributed to the constant mystification of the noble race.26 For this strategy to work, the meaning of symbols had to be turned upside down and fed into a circular loop. Marked as honorable, nobles were vested with the authority contingent upon honor—even though it remained uncertain whether they really possessed the qualities required. In other words, noble status symbols were symbols without real objects of refer- ence. They symbolized a claim to honor, as Julian Pitt-Rivers has pointed out, rather than genuine honorableness.27 It is remarkable, however, that this did not make any difference in practice, as if it were the symbols of honor that exacted respect from the commoners rather than honorableness itself.28 Within the framework of institutionalized inequality, it sufficed to acquire honorific privileges and specific forms of distinction by grant (that is, nobility as a legal entity) in order to gain a prominent and advantageous position in society. Perhaps partly as a result of the growing number of ennoblements, the conceptual gap between nobility as a social group and as a legal entity increased by the seventeenth century. In the course of this process, the notion of nobility split by detaching its symbolic dimension from the concrete social group it labeled. It gradually evolved from a tangible cor- porate body, legally defined by privileges and kin collectives, toward a pure status symbol. It was this distinction that enabled newcomers to take advantage of noble status for their social advancement, as they were only interested in its easily accessible symbols. This was not the 26Strictly speaking, it was authority rather than power that resulted from this kind of dominance. According to Max Weber’s definition, authority as opposed to power implies a certain degree of willingness to obey on the part of the subordinate. Power in the narrow sense of the word invokes force to make people comply, whereas authority causes people to conform voluntarily by bowing to somebody’s superior qual- ification or endowment. The power derived from honor was, therefore, legitimate authority justified by custom and tradition. See Max Weber, Wirtschaft und Gesellschaft: Grundriß der verstehenden Soziologie, 5th ed. (Tübingen: Mohr, 1985), 108–20. 27Julian Pitt-Rivers, “Honour and Social Status,” in Honour and Shame. The Values of Mediterranean Society, ed. J. G. Peristiany (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1966), 24–26. 28Heinrich Popitz, Phänomene der Macht, 2nd ed. (Tübingen: Mohr Siebeck, 1992), 110–13. THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 391 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core first time in history that the entire notion of nobility underwent a profound change. The idea of nobility was linked to late-medieval knighthood, which did not vanish along with the knights. It survived as a concept, if substantially modified and adjusted to the conditions of the early modern state, as it proved helpful in the legitimization of claims to power.29 Nobility and Absolutism In Central Europe (the Holy Roman Empire and the Habsburg monarchy), the usual manner of becoming ennobled was simply to apply by sending a petition to the emperor . The appli- cant would enumerate reasons why nobility was sought and why the applicant was deserving of it. The official act consisted of an examination and, by the eighteenth century, sometimes a formal investigation into the applicant’s claim for noble status and, if she or he passed the test— and after payment of the required fee—the presentation of the award by the emperor. (Further information about how the Viennese authorities managed the process of ennoblement is cur- rently unavailable because its administrative aspect is still largely unexplored. Apart from reasons of space not allowing an exploration of the administrative procedure, it is a matter outside the scope of this article.) Approximately 25,000 records of ennoblement are stored at the Archive of Nobility in Vienna.30 The sheer number seems to be evidence of the impor- tance emperors attributed to ennoblement, whatever the underlying reasons may have been. Of course, the empire was no service-sector business that tried to satisfy the public’s hunger for titles. We would be well advised to assume that there was a deeper reason as we look at gov- ernmental motives for granting ennoblement. Ennoblement obviously achieved a number of different purposes from the state’s point of view. It was a convenient and economical way of rewarding merits and favourites. Moreover, it served a political purpose: the privilege to grant ennoblement was one of the last remaining rights that uniquely belonged to the Roman emperor, thus underlining his supremacy among German princes.31 Finally, ennoblement served, according to a still widely held opinion, as a fiscal expedient. We do not know how much revenue the Crown raised by imposing a fee on ennoblement, but we do know that it could have been more. Studies on the ennoblement policy in the Austrian Low Countries have shown that “the demand constantly exceeded the offerings, without resulting in an adjustment of the price.”32 For at least two centuries 29Ellery Schalk, From Valor to Pedigree: Ideas of Nobility in France in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1986). 30The register has been published: Frank, Standeserhebungen und Gnadenakte für das Reich… The figure of 25,000 ennoblements is an estimation based on a random sample of 5,016 cases covering approximately 20 percent of all acts of ennoblement from 1500 to 1800. 31Riedenauer, “Zur Entstehung und Ausformung des landesfürstlichen Briefadels in Bayern,” 662. Alongside the emperor, several other sovereign princes had the privilege to grant nobility. Theoretically, each prince enjoying the palatinatus in ampla forma was permitted to raise someone to the nobility by right. Because a bestowal by the emperor was regarded as superior and imperial nobility (Reichsadelsstand) was formally applicable in all the parts of the empire, only a few rulers risked conferring titles of lower esteem. In some states, such as Bavaria, though, officers were tacitly requested to submit an application for nobility to the respective chancellery in order to avoid being considered disloyal. Most people aspiring for nobility, however, still chose the route of supreme authority for promotion, thus nonimperial ennoble- ment remained an exception to the rule. 32Clark, State and Status, 166; Paul Janssens, “Coûts et profit des structures nobiliaires dans une société de type pré-industiel: les Pays-Bas méridionaux du Xème au XVIIème siècle” (n.d.), chapter 6; Viviane Richard, “Les anoblissements dans les Pays-Bas autrichiens” (master’s thesis, Brussels, 1960), 121. KLAUS MARGREITER392 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core (1600–1800) the price remained at 300 fl for the rank of untitled nobility. Although it is of course true that the state sold nobility for money, it remains far from clear what the monetary aspect of ennoblement contributes to an overall understanding of the function of ennoble- ment. In any case, it does not in the least diminish its social significance. Apart from the fact that the fee had the character of an administrative charge to defray the expenses that accrued from the processing of the application, honor and money were not necessarily contradictory but rather complementary in premodern society. Because people were accustomed to show- casing their own and their family’s honor in most elaborate manners, and because this cost money anyway, it was not at all demeaning to pay for honor in the first place. What does the fact that noble status was bought and sold teach us about the idea of nobility? Only that it was valuable, which is not new for us. Generally speaking, the Crown’s attitude toward the nobility was ambivalent at best. As a trend that can be observed throughout Europe, absolute monarchs overrode the nobility politically yet strengthened its position socially. In the Habsburg monarchy, the old, formerly Protestant nobility was still under suspicion for being unreliable in its loyalties in the seven- teenth century, particularly in the period after the crushing of the Bohemian revolt in 1620. Yet the conservative absolutist idea of how society ought to be constituted overrode these reservations. In spite of its painful experiences with autogenous noble power, emperors still believed in a hereditary ruling class as a necessary and essential constituent of society. Moreover, the state seized the opportunity to stress its sovereignty by claiming to be the only legitimate source of nobility ( fons honorum). A number of theorists were engaged to produce evidence for the emperor as the only authority entitled to declare a person noble irrespective of a family’s lineage.33 By common consent, the sovereign’s duties included safe- guarding the smooth working of society and intervening to make necessary changes in its structure. This implied the obligation to promote people in rank within the hierarchy of orders, whenever their current position was not in harmony with their abilities or their worth. Yet sovereignty, according to the concepts of absolutism, affected the status of every person and subjected everyone to the emperor’s judgment, including the nobility.34 In theory, every single member of the nobility enjoyed noble status only as long as the emperor allowed him or her to.35 Acquiescing in the proposition that they were nobles only until further notice and that descent counted for nothing certainly meant a considerable strain for families of old stock and was a latent source of conflict. Prominent specialists in the field have claimed absolutism had its own social agenda con- cerning the role of the nobility in the new, centralized state: the imperial privilege to grant nobility was used in all likelihood as “the instrument of a considered policy on elites, a way of 33Important authors were, among others, Dominicus Arumaeus, Johann Moritz Guden, Dietrich Wilhelm Ziegler, Johannes Limnaeus, Josua Nolden, and Matthias Stephani. Most of them owed their basic arguments to Bartolus de Sassoferrato. 34Clark, State and Status, 174–89. 35Johann Georg Hanaw stated that the act of ennoblement referred directly not only to the supplicant but uno actu to all his descendants as well. Accordingly, the typical wording in letters patent that the emperor grants nobility to the supplicant and to his legitimate heirs and their heirs’ heirs both men and women for ever (“seine eheliche leibs Erben und derselben Erbens Erben, Mann und Weibs personen, in ewig Zeit”) can be interpreted as evidence for ennoblement generally conferring noble status to all present and future members of the family. In other words: nobles did not inherit nobility because they had already been virtually ennobled prior to their birth by the sovereign. See Johann Georg Hanaw, Synoptica resolutio quaestionum ducentarum … de nobilitate (Guben, 1672), 482; Bleek and Garber, “Nobilitas,” 96. THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 393 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core transforming the content of the idea of nobility, of modifying the composition of the second order in whatever way seemed best.”36 The enforcement of noble status can be interpreted as part of a deliberate state strategy to create a loyal ruling class by redesigning the nobility as a whole. However, we have at present no positive evidence of whether imperial governmental institutions implemented an intentional agenda concerning elites or even whether they paid any attention to the possible long-term effects of their ennoblement policy. We do not even know to what extent they were really aware of the social role of the nobility because nothing of the kind has been established so far. Only circumstantial evidence is available to support the assumption that there was a more or less clear idea about what the nobility was intended to be like and what purposes it was supposed to serve in society. For the theorists, it was obvious that nobility did play a substantial role in society. In con- trast to the supporters of the ideology of lineage, who claimed that the nobility’s superiority, founded on blood as it was in their view, was basically an inherited trait, the emperor’s men held a functionalist view. For them, the nobility’s raison d’être lay in their specific responsibility for society and particularly the state.37 In this view, the nobility’s main purpose was, on the one hand, to shield the ruler from hostile acts and, on the other, to protect the emperor’s subjects against acts of tyranny in the name of the summum bonum. Thus, nobles were called upon to act as advocates of the commonweal and to use their social preeminence to promote that ideal. There was agreement among theoreticians that nobles were qualified to rule as a matter of principle and in all respects and that they could be entrusted with responsibility in almost all affairs of public life.38 The right to rule was not meant to be confined to the local sphere and the duties of a landowning squire; it was considered to be universally valid since the collective capacity to rule made every noble person eligible for a leading position in any field. In reality, nobles could be active in a number of areas, in the service of the state, in the army, in the church, and in estate manage- ment, provided that they were active in their capacity as leaders and that there were subor- dinates to command. Unlimited competence and collective capacity to rule had always been a crucial element of noble identity, and the state was well prepared to use this attitude as an instrument of governance. Ever since chivalry evolved in the late Middle Ages into what became known as the nobility, the supposed collective capacity to rule had been a core element of aristocratic ide- ology. This attribute was thought of as an inner quality based on a morally superior predis- position. Some even went so far as to claim that only nobles were capable of rational reasoning or that they were endowed with greater civility and particularly with a deeper 36Guy Chaussinand-Nogaret, The French Nobility in the Eighteenth Century: From Feudalism to Enlightenment (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1985), 33; Bush, The European Nobility, 12, 19, 80–84; Clark, State and Status, 164, 174. 37On the ideology of lineage see particularly David Gaunt, “Kinship: Thin Red Lines or Thick Blue Blood,” in Family Life in Early Modern Times 1500–1789, The History of the European Family, eds. David I. Kretzer and Marzio Barbagli, vol. 1 (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 2001), 257–87; Gérard Delille, “The Shed Blood of Christ: From Blood as Metaphor to Blood as Bearer of Identity,” in Blood and Kinship: Matter for Metaphor from Ancient Rome to the Present, eds. Christopher H. Johnson, Bernhard Jussen, and David Warren Sabean (New York and London: Berghahn Books, 2013), 127–33; Arlette Jouanna, Le devoir de révolte: La noblesse française et la gestation de l’État moderne, 1559–1661 (Paris: Fayard, 1989). 38Bleek and Garber, Nobilitas, 101–03. KLAUS MARGREITER394 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core understanding of political affairs and the raisons d’état.39 These claims were designed to rein- force the impression that nobles were human beings of a different and higher order along the lines suggested by everyday interaction between nobles and commoners.40 Although the nobility’s moral superiority was never questioned in absolutist reasoning, its basic element had to be redefined in order to reconcile it with the demands of the modern state. This could be achieved by replacing the traditional notion of noble virtue based on chivalric values with qualities that reflected the principles of the modern state. The traditional notions of honor and total commitment to a cause were to be reoriented toward such cate- gories as merit, service, and loyalty.41 According to this concept, those who had consistently demonstrated fearless allegiance to the emperor and his house (that is the state) were to be considered fit for the exercise of power. The notion of honor was thus conceptually linked to values that did not explicitly infringe on the traditional idea of noble loyalty; rather, it was a reinterpretation of the feudal relationship between vassals and their supreme lord. Yet the new concept favored by the state’s authorities included aspects that were incompatible with the mentality of the nobility. Unconditional obedience and subor- dination to authorities of whatever kind (with the exception of the Almighty) remained alien to aristocrats brought up in the tradition of noble freedom and prepared by their education to be rulers rather than subjects. As a consequence, the notion of noble loyalty was changed altogether; a knight’s loyalty was after all voluntary, whereas the loyalty of modern subjects was enforced and obligatory. Although absolutism tended to create the impression that it had redefined the standards of government (which has at times even misled historians), its practices were actually deeply rooted in feudal tradition. In the seventeenth century, the concept of office was still based on the institution of fief holding: office-holders were charged to exercise power on behalf of the ruler; in return, they received part of the fees as income. Furthermore, holding an office included the exercise of a form of power hitherto reserved to nobles. Iurisdictio in sub- ditos, which used to be an essential feature of noble power, was now transferred to non-noble specialists in administration in open contradiction to the traditional notion of legitimate power. Yet at the same time, this enabled officials to meet a necessary condition for noble status. Exercising political authority in the public space was initially considered a noble pre- rogative; assuming social leadership was part of nobles’ duties and a main element of lordship. The reversal of the original concept of legal authority, which derived entitlement to power from noble status and feudal privilege, enabled a noble occupation (such as the exercise of political authority through office) to confer noble quality on the person who pursued it. Imperial authorities tacitly took up this position and—rather unsurprisingly—so did the offi- cials who were the main beneficiaries.42 If supplicants for ennoblement had pursued a noble occupation (adelige Charge), they unfailingly mentioned it in their letters of application, and it 39Johann Christian Lüning and Christian von Wolff. See Andreas Gestrich, “Höfisches Zeremoniell und sinnliches Volk: Zur Rechtfertigung des Hofzeremoniells im 17. und frühen 18. Jahrhundert,” in Zeremoniell als höfische Ästhetik in Spätmittelalter und Früher Neuzeit, eds. Jörg Jochen Berns and Thomas Rahn, Frühe Neuzeit, vol. 25 (Tübingen: Niemeyer, 1996), 57–73. 40See, for instance, the astutely observed characterization of nobles in Goethe’s The Sorrows of Young Werther, Wilhelm Meister’s Apprenticeship or in Adam Smith’s The Theory of Moral Sentiments. 41Clark, State and Status, 164; Guttandin, Das paradoxe Schicksal der Ehre, 322–23, 347. 42Wunder, “Die Sozialstruktur in den Geheimratskollegien in den süddeutschen protestantischen Fürstentümern (1660–1720),” 209–10, 216. THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 395 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core was equally unfailingly acknowledged by the imperial chancellery as a sufficient argument in support of claims to noble status. It almost goes without saying that the profile of a person the imperial authorities consid- ered worthy of ennoblement coincided perfectly with the specific qualities habitually found in officials both civil and military. The features required for being judged worthy of enno- blement were the ones that made a person useful for the state. In this respect, too, officials seemed to represent the template for an ideal subject, which was now also applied to the def- inition of the ideal aristocrat. Officials were active almost by definition; they had a strong sense of duty and they were, above all, absolutely loyal. Moreover, they had the skills required to meticulously carry out whatever task had been assigned to them; in this way, they contrib- uted in a concrete and practical way to the smooth functioning of the state’s system. Certainly, loyalty and subordination were not meritorious by themselves because everybody was expected to submit to authority to a certain degree. To make loyalty commendable and a good argument for ennoblement it had to be performed proactively. Although merit was introduced in this way as a necessary condition for ennoblement, the concept of nobility as such did not therefore become meritocratic. The existence of certain qualities of character regarded as specifically noble was still considered the precondition for genuinely noble conduct. Ennoblement was not granted because of one’s meritorious deeds, but because the deeds were proof that these qualities already existed in a person.43 Letters patent con- tained a list of qualities every candidate for ennoblement was required to possess: respectabil- ity, probity, good noble conduct, virtue, and reason.44 These were the qualities that were rewarded through ennoblement because they were considered to be the only basis for anyone to be truly meritorious and thus useful to the state. Their explicit invocation as the foundation upon which ennoblement rested made them publicly and socially operational. If the reasoning behind a system of rewards concerns motivating people and strengthening their ambition, we may assume that such a rationale was one of the reasons why emperors granted ennoblement. The significance of this aspect in terms of its benefit for the state was emphasized by contemporary authors, such as Montesquieu and Justus Möser, who stressed that honors and rewards were the strongest stimuli to make people behave to the best advantage of the commonweal.45 Nor were the supplicants the only ones to be encour- aged by ennoblement: they were intended to serve as models for others. Apart from having a convenient way of rewarding the right kind of behavior at their disposal, governments used ennoblement as a means to communicate their views on what the ideal subject should be like. Noble status was a kind of high-profile reward, and regardless of the frequency with which ennoblements were granted, the neighborhood was likely to find out soon and to adapt to the new situation, for they simply could not ignore their neighbor’s new status for long without insulting him. This was in fact not simply a welcome side effect, but it was explicitly intended. The standard text of the letters patent stated that the supplicant was granted noble 43Clark, State and Status, 182. 44“Ehrbarkeit, Redlichkeit, gute adelige Sitten, Tugend und Vernunft.” In special cases, experience (Erfahrenheit/Experienz) and erudition (Gelehrsamkeit) were added. In contrast to the first set of qualities, the latter pair are accidental (rather than essential) in nature; they can be acquired through application, which made a significant difference. 45Montesquieu, L’esprit des lois, book 3, chapter 5; Justus Möser, “Den Patriotischen Phantasien ver- wandte Handschriften,” in Sämtliche Werke (Oldenburg, Hamburg: Stalling, 1968), 64. KLAUS MARGREITER396 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core status so that others might likewise feel encouraged and inspired by this gracious reward to follow in good conduct and in doing noble deeds.46 Newly created nobles were expected to help spread the state’s idea of a new elite as living examples for its program. Seeing what type of character and achievement was singled out for honor and rewarded by the sovereign, the public was able to infer what the sovereign ideally expected of them. Did Imperial Government Regulate Noble Status? As has become apparent from this discussion, every single act of ennoblement implicitly con- stituted a political statement concerning the profile of an elite consistent with the modern state. But is this evidence strong enough to suggest the existence of a deliberate ennoblement policy? On the one hand, it is true that governments succeeded in controlling the recruit- ment of the nobility. A policy of extensive ennoblement indubitably stressed the state’s monopoly over the granting of noble status and the formal promotion in rank in general.47 Yet this does not fully account for the extent to which imperial authorities exer- cised ennoblement. The average number of approximately 87.76 acts of ennoblement a year (1600–1800) suggests that government acted in a principled, nonrandom way.48 Emperors would have had many other means at their disposal to reward merits. When they chose enno- blement to single out people for special honor, they probably did not do so only to comply with the request of the supplicants; surely its significance was more than symbolic. They did so because they thought nobility to be the appropriate status for those who were prepared to devote themselves and their qualities, which were desirable ones from a political point of view, to the cause of the empire. In this respect, early modern emperors simply continued the policy of their predecessors and intensified it according to the absolutist view of governance. Conversely, if ennoblement was to have tightened the emperor’s grip on the nobility, it clearly failed to achieve that goal. This was not because emperors did not try to exert its influ- ence on the nobility, but rather because their efforts did not reach the group they were aimed at. Some of the political measures imposed by governmental institutions did of course affect the nobility’s cultural profile, such as courtly culture, the confessionalisation of court patron- age, and the establishment of the state monopoly on violence. These were important factors, indeed, and they have already been sufficiently analysed by recent scholarship.49 However, the impact of these measures on the concept of nobility and its ideological foundation was small. If there was a substantial shift in the development of the notion of nobility, it had already taken place in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, when the notion of nobility 46“… damit noch mehrere durch dergleichen milde Belöhnung zur Nachfolge guten Verhaltens und Ausübung adelicher Thaten gleichfalls bewegt und aufgemuntert werden.” This quote is from the letters patent for August Wilhelm Crayen from Leipzig and dates from 1788, but more or less the same phrasing can be found in every one of these eighteenth-century documents. Adelsakt August Wilhelm Crayen, Österreichisches Staatsarchiv, Allgemeines Verwaltungsarchiv. 47Clark, State and Status, 180–81. 48The figure of 87.76 ennoblements per year is calculated from the sum of 3,528 cases of ennoblement from 1600 to 1800 out of a random sample covering approximately 20 percent of all acts of ennoblement from 1600 to 1800. The confirmations of allegedly lapsed nobility taken into account, the value is thereby increased to approximately 94.75 per year. 49See Karin J. MacHardy, War, Religion and Court Patronage in Habsburg Austria: The Social and Cultural Dimensions of Political Interaction, 1521–1622, ed. J.C. D. Clark (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2003). THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 397 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core being a profession was given up in favor of the ideology of lineage. But this was the last devel- opment that affected the nobility as a whole. Ennoblement policy affected nobility— whether intentionally or unintentionally—only insofar as it separated the legal aspect of the term nobility from the group it previously used to denote. The emperors and their coun- cils must have realized that most of the people they ennobled did not become part of the established nobility and that their influence on the aristocracy’s social composition was there- fore practically negligible. What actually happened was that the concept of nobility came to be applied to another group which, for the most part, did not live nobly according to the traditional view, but exercised modern forms of power and had the skills the state needed and the inclination to serve it without reservation. Effective rule needed nobles of the old type, though, to perform the tasks they were trained for. The high positions at court and in government remained their preserve and they were also eminently suited for diplomatic and military service. The old aristocracy evidently did not become a meritocratic nomencla- ture that was focused solely on the state’s interests. On the contrary, the old families moved closer together and insisted even more irritably on their exclusivity and their traditional identity. It was, however, in the state’s interest to prevent the nobility from becoming too homo- geneous. It would have been simply paradoxical for the emperor to strengthen the old nobil- ity by renewing it with the members of the modern administrative elite after so many efforts to defeat it politically. If the new nobles had been integrated into the old aristocracy, the result could have been a strong corporate body of the kind that had just been deprived of power. An aristocracy vested with the joint power derived from bureaucracy and lordship could hardly have been controlled by anyone, even less so, if those charged with controlling it were members of the group to be controlled. From an absolutist point of view, the only prudent course to take was therefore to grant noble status to nearly anyone who could afford it regardless of their social background. This was likely to see off any convergence between old and new nobility.50 It was also the reason why no attention was paid to whether supplicants had the means to meet the cultural and economic standards of the landed nobility or whether they were able to afford a genuinely noble lifestyle. Even if sup- plicants stated in their letters of application that they had been living almost like noblemen in the past, this was never accepted as an argument for ennoblement by the authorities.51 Nobility was spread so widely in terms of social background that a common corporate iden- tity among new nobles was extremely unlikely to take shape. Ennoblement policy softened and watered down the notion of nobility as a status group so that it could be reshaped in accordance with the sovereign’s needs and wishes. In this respect, the government was suc- cessful in regulating noble status, although this was a rather passive form of control. Conclusion When specialists on early modern elites summarize the transformation that the nobility underwent in the course of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, they usually come 50Hochedlinger, “Mars Ennobled,” 175. 51To be sure, an investigation report confirming that the supplicant was well off might have guided the decision in favor of the supplicant. The government would not have requested such information if this had not been a relevant factor. One’s economic standing was, however, never part of the formal justification of ennoblement. KLAUS MARGREITER398 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core to the conclusion that the nobility became more heterogeneous and more complex. Social mobility and ennoblement, so runs the argument, changed the nobility’s internal structure considerably and, as a consequence, it gradually lost its uniform appearance and its consistent cultural and ideological profile.52 Diversification was, in fact, the common denominator of all the nobility’s developments in terms of social structure, but this remains true only as long as one takes the term nobility at face value. If we choose to class, for instance, the ruling prince of Liechtenstein and the Salzburg poorhouse administrator Joachim von Mayr (1732–1796) as members of the same status group, we may—if we look hard enough—detect a couple of features the two had in common, but it would surely be absurd to assume that these amount to more than superficial resemblances. In practice, these two noblemen clearly did not share one single socially relevant trait except formal membership in the second estate and perhaps a higher level of education. At any rate, the resemblances do not justify classifying old and new nobles as members of the same status group. Given their actual social standing, conflating both groups under the term nobility seems inaccurate and mislead- ing. It would therefore seem to be pointless to take the existence of nobility as a consistent status group for granted and to set out to explain it without first examining the suitability of the term nobility as a tool of scientific analysis. We use general terms in order to denote sets of individuals or phenomena that share a critical number of common features. If we bear this in mind, it would appear that the general term nobility ceased to be applicable with the nobility losing its consistent structure. In the eighteenth century, when the process in question was completed, the term nobility denoted hardworking professionals as well as leisured grandees, middle-class characters living in modest flats, as well as magnates with lifestyles vibrant with conspicuous consump- tion, aristocrats quietly assured of their natural superiority and their unique vocation to rule as well as “white-collar workers” focused exclusively on the duties of their job. In terms of social status and identity, the majority of the new nobles actually remained commoners, in spite of their legal status. In a reversal of this general tendency, however, some distinguished commoners of the Dresden or Vienna high society met the standards of courtly culture and noble lifestyle much better than quite a few petty lords. In a word, using the term nobility to refer to all individuals formally belonging to the second estate obscures rather than describes social reality. With regard to the different phenomena covered by the term nobility, one is consequently faced with the task of identifying common features where there were none. The fact, however, remains that nobility did have a meaning to early modern society; had it been without meaning, the strong demand for ennoblement would be inexplicable. The key to the solution is recognizing the importance of the various aspects of its meaning. We have to be aware that in the process of nobility losing its social uniformity, its ideological and sym- bolic aspects increasingly gained in importance as compared to the social aspect. With this understanding in mind, we can explain what happened to nobility in early modern Central Europe. The core group of the nobility remained basically unaffected by governmental policies. Although it had lost its formal right of political participation, this loss was more than 52Clark, State and Status, 184; Walter Demel, “Der europäische Adel vor der Revolution: Sieben Thesen,” in Der europäische Adel im Ancien Régime. Von der Krise der ständischen Monarchien bis zur Revolution (ca. 1600–1789), ed. Ronald G. Asch (Weimar, Wien: Böhlau, 2001), 412–14; William Doyle, “Was There an Aristocratic Reaction in Pre-Revolutionary France?” Past & Present 57 (1972): 108, 113. THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 399 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core compensated for by the manifold opportunities the court provided the core group to tend their interests in an informal way. Apart from that, absolutism confirmed the aristocracy’s monopoly in the highest positions in the state and strengthened its hold on seigneurial forms of land ownership, which considerably consolidated their material resources and broadened their social scope. As a consequence of their economic reinforcement, the aristoc- racy was strong enough to control movement into the group and to keep out upstart trespass- ers. Rank endogamy (connubium) came to be more strictly observed than before, which kept the old families entre eux. In this way, the landed nobility formed a socially stable body of families, which was not only uniform in terms of culture and mentality, but biolog- ically homogeneous as well. At the same time, the imperial ennoblement policy and the demand for titles caused a major transformation outside the aristocracy. This was not the result of absolutism having caused a change in the concept of nobility, but, on the contrary, the consequence of the state insisting on the traditional role of the nobility as the only legitimate ruling class. Thus, the same reasoning that lay behind the reinforcement of the old nobility led the Crown to confer noble status on those who bore responsibility in important positions in society, both in the service and in the economy. In accordance with the view that the exercise of power in a well-ordered society should be the exclusive domain of the nobility, the emperors eliminated the anomaly of commoners in powerful positions by ennobling them. Likewise, nobility was conferred on those who had shown good qualities and uncon- ditional loyalty toward the state and had thereby given proof of their suitability for office. This was a clear political statement. The Crown confirmed the traditional role of the nobility as a hereditary ruling class, but it also extended the scope in which power could be legiti- mately exercised. It recognized the fact that, in early modern society, power was no longer confined to the spheres of government and lordship, as it increasingly shifted toward the spheres of administration and commerce. Thus, people who wielded power in these fields had to be ennobled in order for them to exercise their power legitimately. Power in whatever form was considered legitimate only when associated with nobility, and whoever was powerful was a suitable candidate for ennoblement. For the Crown, nobility seems to have existed only as an ideological entity, as the idea of a general qualification for leadership. Of course, emperors and their councils were quite aware that the nobility also happened to be a real social group with particular interests and consid- erable influence, but when it conferred noble status on commoners, it was in denial of this. This attitude inevitably caused the separation of the ideological aspect of nobility from its social aspect. With the number of new nobles increasing, it became clear that nobility in the legal sense and nobility as a group were no longer the same. For those who did not belong to the aristocracy, it was not only the symbols of nobility, but noble status as such that were little more than symbols. Probably the most significant evidence for this develop- ment was the changing role of the most important noble status symbol. The nobiliary particle “von” (of) between first name and surname typically distinguished nobles from commoners, although it had been granted in the past only if a noble person owned a noble estate, which the “von” referred to in this (privilegium denominandi). In the eighteenth century, it became a necessary and indispensable noble distinguishing mark, when supplicants for ennoblement applied explicitly to be bestowed with the right to use “von” as a quasi-title. Even old families changed their names to keep up with fashion. When noble status became a pure symbol, the importance of its symbols increased. The symbols became its main characteristics. KLAUS MARGREITER400 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core Nevertheless, for newly created nobles, their new, exalted status served a strategic purpose in the context of social advancement. Paradoxically, noble status (in the legal sense) was the result as well as the precondition for the development of the service nobility. It was unques- tionably the most effective means to preserve their current status for generations to come and, thus, met their desire to establish their families and the group they formed as a hereditary elite. Nobility in the general sociological sense was the objective that could be obtained through nobility in the legal sense. Granting that eminent persons generally aspire to preserve their status by transferring it to their kin and that building dynasties is typical of elites, this was even more the case with officials whose material condition was precarious and who lacked the corporate structures that were so important in premodern society. Without a fortune to bequeath and without the solidarity of an institutionalized corporate body to back them up, officials were urgently in need of a well-defined, high-profile position within the hierarchy of orders. Ennoblement helped them to attain this goal because noble status and its prestigious symbols made up for the shortfall. If new noble families succeeded in estab- lishing themselves as a lower upper class on a local basis with a corporate identity and a hold on important positions, and if officials were eligible for membership in this group, ennoble- ment had finally served its purpose. THE NOTION OF NOBILITY AND THE IMPACT OF ENNOBLEMENT 401 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0008938919000736 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Notion of Nobility and the Impact of Ennoblement on Early Modern Central Europe Abstract Introduction The Benefit of Noble Status Nobility and Absolutism Did Imperial Government Regulate Noble Status? Conclusion 
work_e5b7czkqx5f3jo7iosf55vrj2m	----	The Historical Traditions of the Australian Senate The Historical Traditions of the Australian Senate: the Upper House we Had to Have. Sylvia Marchant Research School of the Humanities The Australian National University Canberra 2009 A thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy of the Australian National University January 2009 ii Declaration This work contains no material which has been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma in any university or other tertiary institution and, to the best of my knowledge and belief, contains no material previously published or written by another person, except where due reference has been made in the text. iii Acknowledgements I owe most to the unfailing encouragement and scholarly inspiration provided to me by Professor Paul Pickering, my teacher, patient supervisor and constructive critic. Anthea Hyslop and Marilyn Lake were also supportive and Cameron Hazlehurst, who came in later, provided sound advice and encouragement. I am grateful to the officials, staff and librarians of the several Parliaments I visited who were unstinting in their assistance and advice. In particular, in the Federal Parliament, my thanks are due to Harry Evans, Clerk of the Senate, Ann Lynch, then Deputy Clerk of the Senate, Andrea Griffiths, Usher of the Black Rod and Kay Walsh; in New South Wales: David Blunt, then Usher of the Black Rod, Robert Lawrie, Parliamentary Archivist, Ian Delahunty and Stephen Frappel; in Victoria: Stephen Redenbach, Assistant Clerk Procedures and Usher of the Back Rod, and John Breukel, Parliamentary Librarian; in South Australia: Jan Davis, Clerk of the Legislative Council, Trevor Blowes, Clerk Assistant and Usher of the Black Rod, and Jenny Newton-Farrelly, Librarian. In Tasmania: David Pearce, Clerk of the Council, Nigel Pratt, Deputy Clerk of the Council, Sue McLeod, Acting Deputy Clerk, Juliet Scaife, Parliamentary Librarian and Terry Newman, Parliamentary Historian; in Queensland, Joanne Fear, Librarian, Tim Moroney and Graeme Kinnear, Education Officers; in Western Australia: Chris Hunt, Usher of the Black Rod, Harry C.J. Phillips, Parliamentary Fellow, James Sollis, Deputy Parliamentary Education Officer, and Alice Murphy; and in Canada France Belisle, Archivist of the Senate of Canada. I would also like to thank the librarians and archivists at the ANU, the National Library of Australia, the Australian National Archives, the Prime Ministers’ Centre in Old Parliament House, Canberra, and the State libraries, for their courteous and invaluable assistance in locating and providing books and other material for my research. Officers of the United States Senate Historical Office, the Australian Embassy of the United States of America and the Parliamentary Archives of the Houses of Parliament in Britain also provided valuable assistance in locating historical material. Others who were kind enough advise and help were Professor Dean Jaensch, Flinders University, Professor Clement Macintyre, University of Adelaide and Dr Meg Russell, of University College, London. I would also like to thank colleagues Dianne McGowan, Leigh Toop, Rosemary Hollow, Jan Cooper, Jill Waterhouse, and many other colleagues for their moral and intellectual support through the entire process. Their friendship and encouragement were very important factors in my work. Finally thanks are due my husband, Roger, for his unfailing patience and understanding and without whom this thesis would never have been possible. iv Abstract This thesis examines the raison d’etre of the Australian Senate, the upper house of the Australian bicameral parliament, established in 1901. It explores the literature that might have influenced its establishment and structure, and the attitudes, ideals, experience and expectations of the men (and they were all men) who initiated its existence and designed its structure during the Federation Conventions of the 1890s. It goes on to study whether similar western and British influenced institutions were seen as models by the designers of the Senate, followed by an examination of its architecture, décor, and procedures, to determine the major influences at work on these aspects of the institution. The study was undertaken in view of the paucity of studies of the history and role of the Senate in relation to its powerful influence on the Government of Australia. Its structure can allow a minority of Senators to subvert or obstruct key measures passed by the lower house and is a serious issue for Governments in considering legislation. Answers are sought to the questions of how and why it was conceived and created and what role it was expected to play. The study does not extend beyond 1901 when the Senate was established except to examine the Provisional Parliament House, opened in 1927, which realised the vision of the Convention delegates who determined that the Senate was the house we had to have. The research approach began with an exhaustive study of the Records of the Federal Conventions of the 1890s, where the Constitution of Australia was drawn up, along with contemporary writings and modern comment on such institutions. A study of the men who designed the Senate was carried out, augmented with field visits to the Australian State Parliaments. Research was also conducted into upper houses identified by the delegates to the Australian Federal Conventions, to consider their influence on the design of the Senate. The conclusion is that the Senate was deliberately structured to emulate the then existing British system as far as possible; it was to be an august house of review and a bastion against democracy, or at least a check on hasty legislation. The delegates showed no desire to extinguish ties with Great Britain and their vision of v an upper house was modelled directly on the House of Lords. The vast majority of delegates had cut their teeth in colonial upper houses, which were themselves closely modelled on the Lords. To not establish a Senate would have been to turn their backs on themselves. The Senate then, is not a hybrid of Washington and Westminster: the influence of the United States was limited to the composition of the Senate and its name and mediated through the filter of its British heritage. The example of other legislatures was unimportant except where it solved problems previously experienced in the Colonial Councils and which might have otherwise occurred in the Senate. The Senate was the upper house we had to have; it was a decision that was taken before the delegates even met. Contents vi Acknowledgements iii Abstract iv Abbreviations viii Delegates to all the Conventions ix Chapter 1 Introduction: Why does Australia have a Senate? 1 Chapter 2 On Whose Authority? 33 Chapter 3 In Their Own Image: Did the delegates to the Federal Conventions see themselves as models of an ideal senator? 64 Chapter 4 The Wisest, the Safest, the Best: Colonial Upper Houses as Models. 96 Chapter 5 The Lamp of Experience. 128 Chapter 6 A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought: The Senates of Canada and the United States as models for the Australian Senate. 157 Chapter 7 The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power: Parliamentary Architecture and the Australian Senate. 194 Chapter 8 The Ritual is real in politics: Tradition, Ritual, Symbolism and ceremony in the Australian Senate. 235 Conclusion The Upper House we Had to Have. 270 Contents vii Appendices 1. Schedule of Books recommended by Richard Baker. 276 2. Seating arrangements in Upper Chambers. 279 3. Architectural plans of Provisional Parliament House showing proposed seating layouts. 284 4. The Chambers of Upper Houses. 287 Bibliography 293 viii Abbreviations AGPS Australian Government Publishing Service BNA British North America Act CPD Commonwealth Parliamentary Debates CRS Congress Research Service NAA National Archives of Australia NLA National Library of Australia Names of delegates to all Conventions ix Name of Delegate Colony Conventions attended Abbott, The Honorable Joseph Palmer, M.P. NSW 1891, 1897-8 Atkinson, The Honorable Sir Harry Albert, M.L.C. NZ 1891 Baker, Richard Chaffey, M.L.C. SA 1891, 1897-98 Barton, The Honorable Edmund, M.L.C. NSW 1891, 1897-98 Berry, Graham Vic 1897-98 Bird, Bolton Stafford, M.H.A. Tas 1890, 1891 Braddon, Edward Tas 1897-98 Bray, Sir John Cox, M.P. SA 1891 Briggs, Henry, M.L.C. WA 1897-98 (Sydney, Melbourne) Brown, Nicholas John, M.H.A. Tas 1891, 1897-98 Brunker, James NSW 1897-98 Burgess, William Henry, M.H.A Tas 1891 Carruthers, Joseph NSW 1897-98 Clark, Andrew Inglis, M.H.A. Tas 1890, 1891 Clarke, Matthew Tas 1897-98 Cockburn, Dr. John Alexander, M.P. SA 1890, 1891, 1897-98 Crowder, Frederick WA 1897-98 (Sydney, Melbourne) Cuthbert, Henry, M.L.C. Vic 1891 Deakin, Alfred, M.P. Vic 1890, 1891, 1897-98 Dibbs, George Richard, M.P. NSW 1891 Dobson, Henry Tas 1897-98 Donaldson, John, M.P. NZ 1891 Douglas, Adye, M.L.C. Tas 1891, 1897-98 Downer, Sir John William, M.P. SA 1891, 1897-98 Forrest, John, M.P. WA 1891, 1897-98 Forrest, Alexander, M.P. WA 1891 Fitzgerald, Nicholas, M.L.C. Vic 1891 Fraser, Simon Vic 1897-98 Fysh, Philip Oakley, M.L.C. Tas 1891, 1897-98 Gillies, Duncan, M.P. Vic 1890, 1891 Glynn, Patrick SA 1897-98 Gordon, John Hannah, M.L.C. SA 1891, 1897-98 Grant, Charles Tas 1897-98 Names of delegates to all Conventions x Name of Delegate Colony Conventions attended Grey, Sir George NZ 1891 Griffith, Sir Samuel Walker, M.P. Qld 1890, 1891 Hackett, John Winthrop, M.L.C. WA 1891, 1897-98 Hall, John NZ 1890, 1891 Hassell, Albert WA 1897-98 Henning, Andrew WA 1897-98 (Sydney, Melbourne) Henry, John Tas 1897-98 Higgins, Henry Vic 1897-98 Holder, Frederick SA 1897-98 Howe, James SA 1897-98 Isaacs, Isaac Vic 1897-98 James, Walter WA 1897-98 Jennings, Sir Patrick Alfred, M.L.C. NSW 1891 Kingston, Charles Cameron, M.P. SA 1891, 1897-98 Lewis, Neil Tas 1897-98 Lee-Steere, Sir James George, M.P. WA 1890, 1891, 1897-98 Leake, George WA 1897-98 Loton, William Thorley, M.P. WA 1891, 1897-98 (Adelaide) Lyne, William NSW 1897-98 Macrossan, John Murtagh, M.P Qld. 1890 * Decease reported 31st March, 1891 McIlwraith, Sir Thomas, M.P. Qld 1891 McMillan, William, M.P. NSW 1890, 1891, 1897-98 Macdonald-Paterson, Thomas, M.L.C. Qld 1891 Marmion, William Edward, M.P. WA 1891 Moore, William, M.L.C. Tas 1891, 1897-98 Munro, James, M.P. Vic 1891 O’Connor, Richard NSW 1897-98 Parkes, Sir Henry, M.P. NSW 1891 Peacock, Alexander Vic 1897-98 Piesse, Frederick WA 1897-98 (Adelaide) Playford, Thomas, M.P. SA 1890, 1891 Quick, John Vic 1897-98 Reid, George NSW 1897-98 Names of delegates to all Conventions xi Name of Delegate Colony Conventions attended Russell, William Russell, M.H.R. NZ 1890, 1891 Rutledge, Arthur, M.P. Qld 1891 Shiels, William, M.P. Vic 1891, Acting from 2nd to 9th March, during absence of Mr. Wrixon Vic. Sholl, Robert WA 1897-98 (Adelaide) Smith, William Collard, M.P. Vic 1891 Solomon, Vaiben SA 1897-98 Suttor, William Henry, M.L.C. NSW 1891 Symon, Josiah SA 1897-98 Taylor, John WA 1897-98 (Adelaide) Thynne, Andrew Joseph, M.L.C. Qld 1891 Trenwith, William Vic 1897-98 Turner, George Vic 1897-98 Venn, Harry WA 1897-98 (Sydney, Melbourne) Walker, James NSW 1897-98 Wise, Bernhard Ringrose NSW 1897-98 Wright, John Arthur, M.L.C. WA 1891 Wrixon, Henry John, M.P. Vic 1891 Zeal, William Vic 1897-98 Chapter 1: Introduction 1 Chapter 1 Introduction Why does Australia have a Senate? It passes the wit of man to construct an effective Second Chamber. Goldwin Smith. In J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers: an inductive study in Political Science, Oxford, 1927. p.1. Why is there a silence on the creation of the Australian Senate? Did it emerge fully fledged from the minds of the Convention delegates and was there ever really any choice? In 1889 Henry Parkes (1815–1896), a flamboyant New South Wales politician, declared that Australia’s Federal Parliament would comprise ‘a Parliament of two Houses, a House of Commons and a Senate’. Delivered in rural Tenterfield, New South Wales, it was the speech which is credited with precipitating the events that led to Australian Federation in 1901. The speech made a clear assumption of the establishment of a Senate.1 Parkes’ prediction was duly fulfilled in the Australian Constitution that came into effect in 1901, five years after his death, which stipulated that: ‘the legislative powers of a Commonwealth of Australia shall be vested in a Federal Parliament which shall consist of ‘the Queen, a Senate and a House of Representatives’.2 Unlike the other two component parts of the proposed Parliament, a Senate was neither strictly necessary nor strictly modelled on the British Constitution. This is what makes it the most interesting. If it was not necessary why was it established? The focus of this thesis is how a Senate, an upper house, came to be an established and powerful player in Australia’s Parliament. The Monarch was necessary as Australia did not intend to secede from the British Empire (as it was 1 Ken Halliday, Parkes Federation Call to the People, (Observatory Hill: NSW National Trust of Australia, 1999), p.23. 2 Australian Constitution, Chapter 1, Part 1, Section 1. Chapter 1: Introduction 2 then) which meant that the consent of the Monarch was required to lawfully federate the separate colonies: a House of Representatives, an elected Chamber, was essential as the keystone of democracy representing the people—the taxpayers, but where was the need for a Senate? This is not so clear. There is a silence in the historiography on the inclusion of a Senate in the legislature: it is looked upon as a given and studied mostly in its role rather than its gestation. Of course there were many factors—local and international, economic, social and political—which led to Federation and, along with it, the creation of a Senate. It could be argued that Federation was simply a compromise, a pragmatic solution that fitted the exigencies of the situation at the turn of the century. Similarly, there was understandably the sheer difficulty of getting people to imagine, still less agree on, some alternative. This is not a study of those factors except to the extent that they affected the views and actions of the Convention delegates who crafted the draft Constitution submitted to the putative nation in a referendum. The pressure to reach agreement was underpinned by a potent mix of ideas, emotional attachments, and previous experience, evident in a close study of the delegates. They are the subject of this thesis. Beginning with Parkes’ speech, the assumption that there should be two Houses in an Australian Parliament is apparent throughout the subsequent serious moves towards Federation. Samuel Griffith, a Queensland politician and delegate to the 1890 Conference and the 1891 Convention, followed Parkes, saying: ‘there should be two Houses of Legislature, in one of which the several colonies should have equal representation, the other being chosen by the electors of the Colonies in proportion to population’.3 The principle that there should be two Houses of Legislature, one directly and equally representing the States, while the other directly represents the people of the whole Commonwealth, in proportion to population, may, apparently, be He persisted in his opinion in comments he made later in a critique of the 1897 draft bill, though some doubts seem to have arisen: 3 John M. Williams, The Australian Constitution: A Documentary History, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2005), p.37, from Griffith’s Suggested Instructions to the Constitutional Committee in 1891, paragraph 2. Chapter 1: Introduction 3 taken to be generally accepted as the only basis upon which Federation is at present possible.4 I take it there is no one here who will for one moment imagine that any form of government by a Parliament consisting of one House, could be designated a Federation. The ‘may’, ‘apparently’, and ‘generally accepted’, reveal some reservations in Griffith’s mind and possibly reflect the recently articulated sentiments of the emerging Labour party. The Labour party consistently opposed the establishment of a Senate because it considered equal representation of the States, whatever their population, was undemocratic. The party’s opposition could also be attributed to the view that the upper houses of the Colonies, where members were either nominated for life or elected on a property qualification, were seriously undemocratic. Edmund Barton, also a New South Wales politician and Convention delegate, echoed Parkes, and Griffith at his most confident, in his opening speech to the 1897 Convention in Adelaide, declaring: ‘this Convention approves of the framing of a Federal Constitution which shall establish … a Parliament, to consist of two Houses, namely, a States Assembly or Senate, and a National Assembly or House of Representatives’. He at least had no doubts: he followed this up in the same speech with this unqualified message: 5 No one challenged him. In fact ‘Federation’ simply means a union of States without any requirement for a second house, which Garran considered was not absolutely essential to the system of Federation. 6 The absence of any real dissent among the delegates clearly demonstrates that the concept of a two house legislature was so firmly embedded in the Australian psyche (or at least that represented at the Convention) that, though questions 4 Ibid., p.617. 5 OR, 23 March 1897, p.21. References to Official Records listed below are referred to in the footnotes as OR, with date and page numbers to facilitate finding the reference in both the electronic and published versions of the records. 6 Robert Randolph Garran, The Coming Commonwealth, an Australian Handbook of Federal Government, (Sydney, London: Angus & Robertson, Simpkin, Marshall, 1897), p.30. Chapter 1: Introduction 4 remained as to the role and structure of an upper house, its inclusion was never questioned and the proposal for two houses for the federal government went unchallenged. The first major step towards federation was an Australasian Federation Conference held in Melbourne in February 1890. It was the first of the series of Convention debates in which the final shape of Australia’s Federal Government was hammered out. At the Conference the unquestioned assumption of two houses was immediately apparent. In a speech, by Thomas Playford of South Australia, the major models of a States’ House were drawn from both the negative and positive examples of Canada and the United States: We do not require a great Dominion Parliament, such as exists in Canada, relegating, as it does, all local Legislatures into mere parish vestries. We require something in the shape of the Government of the United States, where clearly defined powers are given to the Senate and the House of Representatives, and where all other powers not specified are left to be exercised by the local States and constituencies.7 This is not to say there were no dissenting voices, but mostly they came from non- participants, with, as noted, the nascent Labour party the most vocal. In the 1897 Convention election New South Wales Labour candidates campaigned on a policy which included opposition to an upper house, but none was elected. Other resistance came from those who remembered the difficulties with Colonial Councils, some of whose members were nominated for life and difficult to dislodge. 8 A small minority in the Assembly of Victoria made a vigorous attack on the concept of a Senate and its powers during the consideration of the 1891 Draft Bill. It was even moved by one member of the Legislative Assembly, Sir Bryan O’Loghlen (1828-1905), that the provision for an upper chamber be struck out. The motion was defeated.9 7 OR, 6-14 February 1890, p.18. 8 New South Wales and Queensland Councillors were nominated for life. 9 Victorian Parliamentary Debates, vol.66, quoted in E.M. Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, (New York: Columbia University Press; London P. S. King, Ltd., 1930), p.100. In the Convention debates themselves there is only slight evidence of anti-Senate sentiment. For example Henry Higgins as late as 1897, commented mildly: Chapter 1: Introduction 5 I was exceedingly amused at the debates in South Australia on this subject. We found member after member saying that he saw no need for a second house at all. Member after member said, ‘What is the use of a Senate, it is not wanted.10 And Josiah Symon, in the same discussion on what should be the name for the Upper Chamber, said: if it is to be a second chamber in any sense of the term at all, one would think … there ought to be some different character about it in some way or other so as to differentiate it from the other chamber, otherwise what on earth is the good of having it?11 To which Higgins, clearly an opponent of the idea interjected, not so mildly: ‘Just so; what is the good?’ A survey of the newspapers of the day shows that the debates were dutifully reported and opinions of the role and structure of the Senate freely aired, but there was little comment on the actual establishment of an upper house. One paper, the Worker, did make a forceful attack on the idea 12 and at a meeting on Federation held in Adelaide in 1897 it was reported that the speaker was interrupted by a lone voice shouting ‘What is the use of a Senate?’ No one else took up the cry and the meeting proceeded peacefully.13 It is clear that Australia’s Constitution framers, the delegates to the Federation Conventions in the 1890s, looked to two major models for their ideas: the Westminster, or British, system and the Constitution of the United States. The first choice was the British system of responsible government with the executive power vested in the lower house—the system upon which the legislatures of all the Australian Colonies were based. It was not an entirely satisfactory model as membership of the Upper House, the House of Lords, was hereditary and based on class and privilege, not applicable to the Australian situation. As such it was These few weak dissenting voices were drowned out by the stronger voices in support of Federation and an overwhelming conviction that there would be two houses in the new Parliament. 10 OR, 9 September 1897, p.261. Records of the debates in the South Australian Parliament on this subject suggest Higgins may have been exaggerating. Debates in the SA Legislative Council and Assembly, June – August 1897. 11 OR, 10 September 1897, p.300. 12 Worker, Sydney, 20 February 1897. 13 South Australian Register, 5 February 1897. Chapter 1: Introduction 6 inappropriate as a model for a ‘modern’ democracy such as Australia which had no hereditary aristocracy ‘born to rule’. Australia’s Colonial Parliaments, all of them bicameral legislatures from the 1850s and modelled exclusively on the British system, were also major models for the Federal vision even though it is clear that not all colonies were happy with their upper houses, especially Victoria, which had an elected upper house, albeit with a prohibitive property qualification, and which had proved to be obstructive.14 It is a tribute to the hidden power of tradition and inertia in the governing of human beings that fundamentals of institutional design are rarely laid open to full appraisal. The solution was found in the United States’ model and was to structure the upper house as a States’ house, its members elected by the States (erstwhile Colonies) to protect their interests. These models were all of Anglo-Saxon origin and culture— akin to Australia—and all had upper houses. This made the establishment of an Australian upper house acceptable and even compelling, but based as much on sentiment and tradition as political logic. As Patterson and Mughan have argued: 15 The decision was justified by supporters on the grounds that a ‘States’ House’ was necessary to represent the interests of the separate States as a counterpoint to the interests of the population at large which would mean the legislature would be dominated by the larger or more populous states. The upper house was also envisioned as a house of review, which would calm the unbridled passions and irrational legislation which might result from a democratically elected lower house. As Ged Martin put it ‘It was generally agreed that British colonies should have British-style bicameral Legislatures, in which the upper chamber would restrain the popular enthusiasms … of the lower’. 16 14 See L.F. Crisp, Australian National Government, (Hawthorn, Victoria: Longman, 1965), p.325. 15 Samuel C. Patterson and Anthony Mughan, ‘Senates and the Theory of Bicameralism’ in Samuel C. Patterson and Anthony Mughan, Senates: Bicameralism in the Contemporary World, eds. (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1999), p.9. 16 Ged Martin, Bunyip Aristocracy, (Sydney: Croom Helm, 1986), p.39. It was a dearly held fantasy that an upper house would somehow be a more intelligent, reasonable and judicious assembly Chapter 1: Introduction 7 than a lower house, in spite of clear evidence to the contrary. Ged Martin has aptly summarized the situation in Canada: The nominated upper houses of other colonies inspired little respect or confidence. Appointed for life legislative councillors were likely to confuse the checking of gusts of popular passion with the imposition of rejected ideas.17 The Federation Conventions were held in Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide, beginning in 1890 with a Conference in Melbourne which drew up the procedures for a formal Convention. The first of these was held in Sydney in 1891 and the last went on for three sessions in Adelaide and Sydney in 1897, and Melbourne in 1898. The debates at the Conference of 1890 and the Convention in 1891 differed in structure from the Convention of 1897-8, a difference which affected the final result brought about in the Convention of 1897-8. The Conference of 1890 was more exploratory though with serious intent and did achieve some notable results, chief of which was the draft constitution drawn up by Andrew Inglis Clark, a Convention delegate from Tasmania, in 1891. This formed the foundation of the Commonwealth of Australia Bill submitted to the Colonies in 1891 for their consideration. Though allowed to lapse at that stage, it became the basis of the final version. The major difference between the three meetings was that the delegates to the 1890 Conference and the 1891 Convention were appointed by the parliaments of the six Australian Colonies, plus two appointed by the legislature of New Zealand. Delegates to the Conventions of 1897–8 on the other hand were elected by the people, except those from Western Australia. The elections of delegates to the 1897-8 Convention were conducted in accordance with Enabling Acts passed in each Colony, which were all substantially the same as that passed by the Parliament of New South Wales as the Australasian Federation Enabling Act 1895. The Act was described as ‘An Act to enable New South Wales to take part in the framing, acceptance, and enactment of a federal Constitution for Australasia’. New Zealand did not participate in the last Convention, deciding not join a Federation, 17 Ibid., p.42. Chapter 1: Introduction 8 and Queensland failed to pass the enabling legislation, though retaining an interest in the proceedings.18 The hiatus from 1891 occurred for several reasons but was due mainly to the failure of the New South Wales Parliament to proceed and the other parliaments were equally irresolute. Despite this inaction the Federation issue was not allowed to die but was kept alive and in the public eye by organisations and individuals outside the parliaments, and some politicians. These influences led to a Conference of Premiers in 1895 which agreed to a series of steps conceived by John Quick, a Victorian lawyer and Convention delegate, to convene another Federal Convention to consider and frame a constitution. 19 Running to over 6,000 pages, the proceedings of the Conventions were faithfully recorded and published in the Records of the Australasian Federal Conventions of the 1890s. Produced in the Hansard tradition using reporters from the Colonial parliaments, every word spoken by the delegates was recorded for posterity. Complete with comprehensive indexes, lists of delegates and careful dating, the Records provide an accurate account of the proceedings and are a fascinating window onto the past. It is revealing to discover the foresight of some of the delegates and how they anticipated problems that might arise. For example: the party system, not then fully realized; whether the Governor-General should be elected; and universal suffrage; were all discussed, the latter topic of special interest to the South Australian delegates where women had been enfranchised in The steps proposed the election of delegates to a new Convention tasked to frame a constitution that would be presented to the people of each Colony at a referendum and, if approved, presented to the Imperial Parliament to enact the required legislation to bring it into being. These programmed stages, spurred on by the failure of the earlier attempt at Federation, were the key to keeping the final Convention on course and bringing about a successful conclusion. 18 Frank R. McGrath, The Framers of the Australian Constitution and Their Intentions, (Sydney: Frank McGrath, 2003), p.70. 19 J.A. La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1972), pp.88-90. Chapter 1: Introduction 9 1894. Adult suffrage was eventually accepted for the Australian Parliament in 1902. In seeking the genesis of the Australian Senate, or Upper House, one is naturally drawn to a study of the debates of the Federal Conventions. It was in the course of these deliberations that the final version of the Australian Constitution was drawn up and the decision that the Australian Federal legislature was to be a bicameral parliament was accepted. The records constitute the main primary source of this thesis and cast a revealing light onto the characters, aspirations and expectations of the delegates charged with this critical task. Ostensibly, a study of these lengthy debates would reveal the source of the delegates’ ideas and their basic attitudes on the concept of Federation, as well as the structure of a Federal legislature. To some extent they do, but the major issue of whether or not to have two houses of Parliament received little attention from the delegates. The vision of bicameralism was present and dominant from the preliminary skirmishes and appears in every document related to Federation. There were lengthy and occasionally acrimonious debates about the role of an upper house and the extent of its powers in relation to the lower house, especially regarding financial affairs, but there is no evidence in the records to suggest that the actual institution of a Senate was ever seriously disputed. This may have had something to do with the fact that the debates were formal affairs with most of the major speeches prepared in advance. The result is a degree of repetition and few surprises in their arguments as the delegates single-mindedly pursued their respective goals. Their ideas had already been worked out and in many cases already presented to and accepted by their respective Parliaments. It is also possible that informal discussions may have taken place where agreements about some issues were made before the formal debates. So the historian must dig deeper for the true source of the preconceptions of the delegates in regard to the institution of an upper house and this is one of the aims of this thesis. The theories of critical junctures and path dependence form the theoretical framework of this thesis. Drawn from social science these theories help to explain Chapter 1: Introduction 10 the ready acceptance of a Senate by Australia and the dependence on the major models of Britain and the United States for its structure and role. Ruth Berins Collier and David Collier have defined a critical juncture as a ‘period of significant change’ and argued that in some cases what is presumed to be a free choice of action appears in fact to be deeply embedded in antecedent conditions that define and delimit agency. They further argue that during a critical juncture actors make contingent choices and these set a trajectory that is difficult to reverse.20 The critical juncture theory is extended in this case by reference to ‘path dependence’, a theory originally applied to technological change, which holds that certain technologies can achieve an initial advantage over alternative technologies and prevail in the long run, even if the alternatives might have been more efficient. This argument can be precisely applied to politics because, like technology, politics involves elements of chance and choice but once a path is taken it becomes ‘locked in’ and strategies are adjusted to accord with the prevailing or pre-existing system. The critical juncture, or ‘period of significant change’ underpinning this thesis is the period between 1890 and 1900 when the Constitutional Conventions worked out and established a federal Government for Australia. The antecedent conditions which defined and delimited the choices of the Convention delegates were found in the existing Australian Colonial governments and the Westminster system. The United States’ Constitution was also an important model but it must be remembered that it too had its roots in the British system and, as we shall see, shared many of its procedures and practices. 21 20 Ruth Berins Collier and David Collier, Shaping the Political Arena, (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1991), pp.27, 29. 21 Kathleen Thelen, 'Historical Institutionalism in Comparative Politics', Annual Review of Political Science, June 1999, p.385. The concept of increasing returns as applied to technology is a feature of path dependence and explained by Paul Pierson, an American Professor of Political Science, as the probability of further steps along the same path increases with each move down that path because the costs of exit rise. In one major article Pierson argued that increasing returns mean that once a country has started down Chapter 1: Introduction 11 a track the costs of reversal are very high.22 He also argues that the strong status quo bias associated with most political institutions often make path dependent effects particularly intense in politics.23 The path taken by the Colonial Parliaments was a powerful influence on the decisions taken in the structuring of the Australian Senate to continue along the same path; an attitude strengthened by the weight of the legacy of British tradition inherited by the decision makers. In politics the added factors of inertia and tradition often bring about a climate of resistance to change in a process once it has been adopted and established, because the policy makers ‘are constrained in what they can conceive of by these embedded cultural constraints’.24 These theories do not fully explain the reluctance of the delegates to bring in new ideas but they are relevant to the issue, especially the Colliers’ argument that antecedent conditions define and delimit choice. Some historians writing about Federation have also recognised an unseen and unexplained power, something other than logic, influencing the delegates. For example, Geoffrey Bolton referred to ‘subliminal influences in the shaping of an Australian nation’. 25 Tradition and inertia, which Patterson and Mughan called the ‘hidden power’, are other influences cited by historians to explain the resistance to new ideas by the Convention delegates.26 Historians and political scientists have failed to give the decision to establish a Senate any systematic attention, relying instead on passing references and casual remarks. Years before the concept was spelled out J.A. Marriott, an English writer, leading constitutional scholar and a member of Parliament, alluded to the path dependence phenomenon in a disparaging phrase describing the Senate as a 22 Paul Pierson, 'Increasing Returns, Path Dependence, and the Study of Politics', The American Social Science Review, June 2000, p.252. 23 Ibid., p.261. 24 Kathleen Thelen, ‘Historical Institutionalism in Comparative Politics’, pp.369-404. 25 Geoffrey Bolton, Edmund Barton: The One Man for the Job, (St. Leonards, Australia: Allen & Unwin, 2000), p.16. 26 Patterson and Mughan, eds., Senates: Bicameralism in the Contemporary World. Chapter 1: Introduction 12 ‘constitutional fetish’,27 and Galligan and Warden saw it as ‘probably inevitable’28 in the same way as Scott Bennett concluded that it was ‘accepted automatically’.29 men make their own history, but they do not make it just as they please; they do not make it under circumstances chosen by themselves, but under circumstances directly encountered, given and transmitted from the past. The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a night-mare on the brain of the living. Perhaps it can also be explained by the words of Karl Marx: 30 The undebated assumption that there would be an upper house in the Australian Parliament is reflected in the silence on the part of historians and political scientists on the subject and has led to the gap in the literature on the history of the Australian Constitution. As the issue was not debated and there are no records of suggestions of any alternative and only minor resistance, historians, like the delegates to the Constitutional Conventions, have accepted a Senate without question. Rarely rating a separate title, even in its modern incarnation, it has been taken for granted as a natural and necessary phenomenon. One major exception is Platypus and Parliament by Stanley Bach. This thesis will argue that the establishment and structure of the Australian Senate was the result of a path dependent attitude on the part of the delegates and their Colonial parliaments. It was ‘accidental’ in the sense that it was not actually planned but based, with few deviations, on the preconceived model omnipresent in speeches, authorities and historical antecedents, and that the Conventions merely tinkered with the structure to shape the new upper house. It was a decision taken with the heart as much as with the head. 31 27 J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers - an Inductive Study in Political Science, New, revised and part rewritten, (Oxford: Clarendon, 1927), p.5. 28 Brian Galligan and James Warden, 'The Design of the Senate', in The Convention Debates 1891 - 1898, ed. Gregory Craven, (Sydney: Legal Books Ltd, 1986), p.91. 29 Bennett, The Making of the Commonwealth, p.112. 30 Karl Marx, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte: With Explanatory Notes, (New York: New York, International Publishers, 1964), p.15. 31 Stanley Bach, Platypus and Parliament: The Australian Senate in Theory and Practice, (Canberra: Department of the Senate, 2003). Bach, an American Constitutional historian, focused on the current differences between the United States Senate and the Australian Senate, and gave only a brief summary of the historical Chapter 1: Introduction 13 contexts. Nevertheless, its very appearance serves to underline the dearth of material focusing solely on the Australian Senate and its historical antecedents. A review of the literature on the Australian Senate shows that the silence was deafening. The review includes some of the many specialised works on Australia’s constitutional history, a selection of political science writings on the subject of bicameralism in general and in Australia in particular, and finally some general histories to ascertain what the student of history might learn from them about the origins of the Senate. Few of the works focus directly on the Senate, which usually appears as part of a wider study and then often as a fait accompli. Some concentrate on its role and responsibilities but offer no examination of the decisions which led to its existence. The selected specialised works, the Constitutional histories and political scientists are categorised into two groups: those which ignore or dismiss the question of why a Senate; and those which choose to address the question. Of those historians who chose to play down the question, Quick and Garran set the pace in their magisterial work The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth. The question of whether there should be an upper house was tersely addressed in their essay on bicameralism, to be quickly disposed of in the following extract: Apart from the philosophical and practical arguments in favour of a two- chambered legislature as against a single-chambered legislature, a political union on the federal plan could not have been accomplished without the constitution of two Houses to represent the composite elements of the union.32 Quick and Garran do not provide the aforesaid philosophical and practical arguments but refer to other writers who advance the arguments that a single house leads to despotism, is inclined to adopt hasty and one-sided views, or is ‘inclined to radicalism or even anarchy’. 33 32 John Quick and Robert Garran, The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth, 1995 ed., (Sydney: Legal Books 1901), p.386. 33 Ibid., p.387. This was a popular view expressed colourfully by William Russell, a delegate from New Zealand, in the Convention of Chapter 1: Introduction 14 1891, as the ‘cyclonic effects of popular gusts of passion’ and Alfred Deakin added a remark about the ‘spectacle of a democracy carried hither and thither by violent impulses to opposite points of the compass within short periods of time’ which might eventuate without a more sober upper house to exercise restraint.34 In a separate section on the Senate, Quick and Garran relied heavily on the experience and commentaries on the United States Constitution by such people as Joseph Story and Roger Foster, though these were based on a United States Senate appointed by the State legislatures, rather than the manhood suffrage eventually proposed for the Australian Parliament. This view was not unique to Deakin or Russell but was an unhappily pessimistic, though widely held, view that democratically elected people’s representatives need some restraining influence to prevent national disaster. 35 Clearly, writing in 1901, the year of Australian Federation, Quick and Garran were relying on the past and especially on the model of the United States, rather than closely considering the question or admitting of any alternative. For example, they dismissed the failure of the ten Labour candidates in New South Wales to be elected as delegates to the 1897 Federal Convention, as due to their ‘impossible programme’, a programme that called for a legislature of only one chamber.36 Yet there was a substantial vote for one of these candidates (J.S.T. McGowen). In Victoria, as early as 1891, an Assembly member (Sir Bryan O’Loghlen) argued for a unicameral Parliament and in 1897 one Labour politician, William Arthur Trenwith, was elected to the Convention.37 Quick and Garran relied heavily on the major argument that the provision of a Senate was a necessary concession to the smaller states to secure their support for Federation. This argument is frequently presented and rarely questioned. Yet the example of Queensland, not represented at the 1897 Convention but which 34 OR, 5 March 1891, pp.64, 75. 35 Joseph Story, Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States, ed. Melville M. Bigelow, Fifth ed., vol. I, (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1891); Roger Foster, Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States, (Boston: Boston Books, 1896). 36 Quick and Garran, The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth, p.163. 37 Victorian Parliamentary Debates, vol. 61, 1891, p.884 et seq. Chapter 1: Introduction 15 quickly became a partner when Federation became a reality, suggests this was not necessarily the case. Western Australia was also reluctant on financial grounds but was persuaded to join at the very last moment by Joseph Chamberlain, then British Colonial Secretary.38 Whether they would have joined the Federation if a Senate had not been included in the Constitution is a matter for conjecture but other examples were to hand: for example in the United States and Canada smaller states had applied to join already successful Federations. While there is no evidence that the smaller colonies would have joined without an upper house that would act as a state-based counter-weight to a lower house where representation was based on population, Andrew Inglis Clark for one, argued that a Federation of Victoria, New South Wales, Queensland and Tasmania would be a very good thing as a beginning, pointing out that in Canada there were originally only four colonies, others joining at different dates.39 A decade after Quick and Garran, Bernhard Ringrose Wise, a New South Wales barrister who had been a delegate to the 1897 Convention, did not address the topic at all in his work The Making of the Australian Commonwealth 1889-1900, apparently taking it for granted, as did other Convention delegates, that the Senate or upper house in the tradition of a Westminster Parliament was ‘a matter of course’. He quoted Parkes as saying that the scheme of the Federal Government ‘it is assumed’ would follow closely upon Canada’s example with a Governor- General and a ‘Parliament consisting of a Senate and a House of Commons’. Quick and Garran’s further comments on a Senate focused in detail on the powers, responsibilities and representation in the House, but without any further questioning of the need for such a body. 40 In his book he preferred to focus on the ‘Compromise of 1891’ which gave the States equal representation in the Senate in exchange for equal power over legislation except for financial matters. Like Quick and Garran, he dismissed the Labour policy of unicameralism as an ‘impractical programme of one Chamber’.41 38 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, p. 260. 39 OR, 11 February 1890, p.29. 40 Bernhard Ringrose Wise, The Making of the Australian Commonwealth, 1889-1900, (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1913), p.12. 41 Ibid., p.219. This dismissiveness reflects a general attitude among delegates to the intrusion of the Chapter 1: Introduction 16 working classes, or masses, into the political process, a fear of what J.S. Mill called ‘uncontrolled democracy’.42 The first foreign commentator to discuss the Australian Government was Erling M. Hunt, an American historian writing in the 1930s. He also saw the provision of a Senate or second house in the Australian Parliament as a given. He referred to Parkes writing before the Melbourne Conference that ‘parliament would consist of a senate and a house of commons’ and says that this was accepted by federal leaders in 1890 and remained a major plank in the Constitution. ‘This’ he said ‘was accepted as a matter of course in both federal conventions’. 43 Hunt did discuss opposition to the proposal but said it was ‘rare and weak’, as indeed it was in the Convention debates. He also went a little further and discussed opposition to a federal Senate in the Colonial Parliaments and press, citing the motion in the Assembly in Victoria in 1891. He records that in 1897 there was opposition in the Victorian and New South Wales Assemblies, and in the South Australian Assembly two Labour members were of the same opinion. Hunt dismisses these instances as isolated and ineffective but they can now be seen as the emerging power of the ordinary citizen and of the Labour party. 44 Writing at about the same time as Hunt, Ernest Scott, an eminent Australian historian and academic, contributed a lengthy and comprehensive article in The Cambridge History of the British Empire, where he treated the bicameral solution more as a question of the Senate’s role rather than its existence. The Labour party was still in its infancy in the 1890s but already a strong and lusty infant, nourished perhaps by the memory of the events in Britain where the Great Reform Act of 1832 had resulted in fairer representation in the House of Commons and considerably weakened the House of Lords. 45 42 John Stuart Mill, On Liberty and Other Essays, ed.John Gray, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), p.384. 43 Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, pp.100-101. 44 Ibid. It is not true to suggest that the ordinary citizen was opposed to bicameralism. 45 Ernest Scott, 'The Federation Movement and the Founding of the Commonwealth', in The Cambridge History of the British Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1933), pp.428- 453. He called it the Chapter 1: Introduction 17 ‘fundamental problem of the federal system: how to reconcile the principles of government by the will of a majority of the people, and government by the will of a majority of the States’.46 This expedient also had the merit of affording a rational basis for a second chamber in the bicameral system postulated by British tradition and Australian experience. The solution to this was, he said, a two-chambered legislature as found in the systems of Switzerland and America. Interestingly he commented: 47 The Senate merited a separate chapter in the 1949 work of L. F. Crisp, The Parliamentary Government of the Commonwealth of Australia. A revised edition was published in 1965 titled Australian National Government but the chapter on the Senate was not much changed from the earlier edition. The words ‘expedient’ ‘rational’ and ‘tradition’ suggest that not only practical factors were at work here, but also a subliminal imperative that insisted on a bicameral legislature and that the example of America, which had implemented the system in the 18th century as a ‘compromise’ to persuade the smaller States to join the union, was enough to justify the establishment of a similar upper house in Australia. 48 Crisp did not examine the reasons behind the establishment of the Senate in the chapter, though he gave close attention to the Convention debates and arguments about its powers and role and elaborated on the perception of a ‘fear of the masses’ as a factor in support for Federation generally. He saw the industrial strikes of 1890–1 as strengthening this fear and quoted a New South Wales conservative politician, Bruce Smith, as describing the Labour party as ‘ignorant of history, of economics and sociology’ and arguing that: ‘This growth upon our body 46 Ibid., p.434. 47 Ibid. 48 It is the later edition which is referred to here. Chapter 1: Introduction 18 politic can now be removed for all time by the proposed union of the Colonies’.49 Crisp based his comments on the fact that both Griffith and Clark, who were instrumental in drawing up the draft Constitution, were heavily influenced, along with many others, by the United States example, and concentrated on the pressure for a ‘strong’ Senate, rather than any discussion on the need for one. His prediction turned out to be wildly inaccurate. 50 He argued that the demand for a ‘strong’ Senate came from financial and conservative interests, implying perhaps, though he has not articulated this point, that this was the case for having a Senate at all. These interests, he claimed, saw Federation as a potential bastion against socialism and hoped to shape the States’ House in the image of their colonial upper houses by providing that it be indirectly elected by the State Parliaments where in any joint sitting propertied interests could almost certainly carry the day. The idea of popular direct election of the Senate was of concern in this case ‘for not even America had gone that far at that time’.51 J.A. La Nauze, whose The Making of the Australian Constitution is a seminal study of Australia’s Constitutional history, is another historian who maintains the silence. His is an authoritative history of the steps that led to the making of the Australian Constitution from 1890 onwards, covering the progress of the convention debates and the characters of individual delegates. It is comprehensive in its coverage, masterly in its assessments and written in a clear and accessible style. The first mention of the Senate is a quotation without comment from the 1891 resolutions that Parliament should consist of a ‘Senate and a House of Representatives’. 52 La Nauze points out that the first drafts of a Federal Constitution were prepared by Inglis Clark of Tasmania and Charles Cameron Kingston of South Australia for the 1891 Conference. Both of these men were strongly influenced by the American model and La Nauze observed that there were few original points in either of the drafts, implying that their idea of a Senate came from that source.53 49 Crisp, Australian National Government, pp.16-17. 50 Ibid., p.18. 51 Ibid., p.19. 52 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, p.37. 53 Ibid., p.24. La Nauze went Chapter 1: Introduction 19 on to address in detail the problems of how the division of powers and responsibilities of the two houses should be carried out. There was never any question in his study of whether anyone felt there was a need or role for an upper house. He is among the great majority of historians who, along with the Convention delegates themselves, considered the provision of an upper house to be beyond question. John Hirst is another. He also sees the fundamentals of the Australian Constitution as mainly borrowed from the American example and ‘readily agreed to’. This of course included a Senate.54 Hirst discusses the problems of marrying the Westminster system of ‘responsible’ Government with the American system of a separate executive, and the decision to make the Senate an elected house, as opposed to the then American system of a Senate nominated by State legislatures. Some saw the idea of an upper house elected on a democratic franchise as almost a contradiction in terms, and Hirst quotes Henry Dobson as being ‘flabbergasted at this proposal being carried through the Convention without resistance’. The argument that won the day however was that ‘Since these electorates had returned to the Convention delegates of such high quality, the system was to be continued’.55 These issues are important but the fundamental issue of why it was thought, or assumed, that an upper house was necessary again did not concern Hirst. He did examine the question of ‘Why does the crown feature so prominently at the very heart of the new Government?’ because there was some argument in the debates suggesting that the constitution should make it clear that the executive power of the monarch was to be wielded by the ministers not the Monarch. Eventually the point was settled that the Ministers would be ‘the Queen’s Ministers of state for the Commonwealth’. 56 54 J.B. Hirst, The Sentimental Nation: The Making of the Australian Commonwealth, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p.101. 55 Ibid., p.160. 56 Ibid., p.31. Chapter 1: Introduction 20 A more recent writer, Frank R. McGrath, a New South Wales lawyer, has attempted to unravel the intentions of the Constitution framers. This was not an easy task as the delegates themselves were not always clear on their intentions, torn as they were between a desire, for the most part, for a federated Australia, and a strong self-interest to protect the rights of their individual States. McGrath’s work clearly explained the various serious issues facing the delegates. He considered that the Senate was one of the most important issues before the Conventions and in his discussion has covered the usual responsibilities suggested for an upper house: the supervisory process of an upper chamber as a check on ‘hasty and ill-considered legislation or a brutal majority’, and the implications of the word ‘upper’, but he has not addressed the reasoning behind the creation of a Senate.57 There was a clear desire to create an effective check on radical action by the representatives of a bare majority of the Australia-wide electorate. He is one of the majority who see the inclusion of an upper chamber as inevitable. So, to him, the original intentions of the framers of the Constitution were to have a Senate as an active and important part of the Australian legislature: a House of Review and a check on the lower house. 58 Stanley Bach, as already mentioned, is an American Constitutional historian and his work focused on the differences between the United States Senate and the Australian Senate, with only a brief discussion of the historical context. His is a significant addition to the literature on the Senate but his only comment on bicameralism is ‘however, the agreement among the Australian states in the 1890s required the creation of a bicameral Parliament’. 59 Those then are the principal constitutional historians who have seen the creation of a Senate as predestined, but others have considered the question in more detail. The earliest of these is Robert Randolph Garran in The Coming Commonwealth, published in 1897. Garran, who later a co-authored with John Quick The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth discussed above, was a lawyer and 57 McGrath, The Framers of the Australian Constitution and Their Intentions, p.45. 58 Ibid., p.62. 59 Bach, Platypus and Parliament: The Australian Senate in Theory and Practice, p.14. Chapter 1: Introduction 21 active supporter of Federation. He wrote this work to summarise and explain Federation to his readers—Australians considering Federation. In it he discussed the system of two legislative chambers as a feature frequently associated with Federation though, interestingly, ‘perhaps not essential to it’. The existence of two chambers in England instead of perhaps three or four, he suggested, quoting E.A. Freeman, author of an authoritative work on Federation, was more or less an historical ‘accident’ but has a special fitness in a Federation in order to provide separate representation for the States.60 There will probably be no difficulty in deciding in favour of a two-chambered legislature, seeing that two Chambers are the rule throughout the British possessions, and that in a Federation there is a special reason for a Second Chamber to represent the States. The system was, Garran claimed, profoundly influenced by the American Union. Later he observed that the proposed Federal Parliament ‘undoubtedly will consist of the Queen and two representative Houses’ and: 61 60 Garran, The Coming Commonwealth, pp.30-32; E.A. Freeman, History of Federal Government in Greece and Italy, ed. J. B. Bury, (London: Macmillan, 1893), Freeman’s work is discussed in a later chapter. 61 Garran, The Coming Commonwealth, an Australian Handbook of Federal Government, p.126. Though Garran did not see a Senate as inevitable but as ‘more or less an historical accident’, in a clear example of path dependence he did accept the two major rationalisations for a second chamber: first we must have one because of the British example and second because, like the United States example, it would provide representation for the member states. Moreover, Garran recognised that not withstanding the revolution, the United States system also owed much to the British path. The reasons he gives are not completely convincing but Garran’s work itself illustrates how profound and irresistible were the main influences and pressures at work on the founders of the Constitution: history and expedience. Scott Bennett is one of the few commentators to identify the silence on the creation of a Senate: Chapter 1: Introduction 22 One constitutional issue over which there was little debate in the Conventions was the provision that the national parliament was to be bicameral.62 He did not address the question in any detail but argued that the idea of a bicameral parliament stemmed from the experience of the delegates in their own colonies and the influential examples of the United States and Canada, suggesting that the concept ‘seemed to have been accepted automatically’. 63 Bennett does acknowledge that Labour party candidates for the 1897 Convention campaigned on a policy opposed to an upper house. He points out that, as only one (William Trenwith) was elected and he did not voice that opposition in the debates, it was not heard. Bennett also cites the Worker’s opinion which argued strongly, if not always coherently, against an upper house, demonstrating that there was an alternative point of view. 64 After this brief discussion Bennett moved on to the major issues of the powers of the putative Senate: equal representation and financial powers. He did not cite the debates in the Colonial parliaments, of which those in New South Wales were the most cogently argued by the Labour party which actually proposed an amendment that would have eliminated the Senate. An interesting aspect of this debate was the emphasis on the inevitability of a second house in that the speakers against a Senate almost invariably commented that they knew this amendment would be negatived but they felt it must be said.65 Another modern historian who questioned the bicameral solution, albeit unpublished, is Jennifer Hutchison. Hutchison examined whether the Senate fulfilled the expectations of its founders in the period from 1901 to 1975; expectations which she said ‘even at that time were somewhat naive and over- optimistic’. 66 62 Bennett, The Making of the Commonwealth, p.112. 63 Ibid. 64 Ibid., p.131. 65 New South Wales Debates, 8 July 1897, pp.1787-1810. 66 Jennifer Margaret Hutchison, 'The Australian Senate 1901-1972' (Unpublished PhD thesis, Australian National University, 1976), p.1. She discussed the ‘ready acceptance of bicameralism’ and concluded that ‘Bicameralism was accepted because of British, American and local Colonial Chapter 1: Introduction 23 practice and Federalism was a scarcely questioned model’.67 Hutchison also outlined some of the theoretical arguments for a second chamber: as a balance between the executive and the legislature; restraint on the ‘unbridled power of a single chamber’; and a revising role or check on the sometimes hasty decisions of a first chamber. She points out that bicameralism had been adopted by a number of European countries perhaps ‘merely as an incidental aspect of a system these countries desired to emulate’. She extrapolates that this was possibly because of Britain's ‘record of stability in government concurrent with adaptation to and absorption of demands for alleviating the political power of the aristocracy’ which ‘was admired throughout Europe’. She argues that bicameralism in the British colonies has been attributed to ‘mere imitation of the mother country’ and quotes Marriott’s phrase that bicameralism was a ‘constitutional fetish’. Hutchison recognised the gap in the historiography and, to substantiate her conclusion, analysed the legacy of the Westminster system where, with other political scientists, she found that bicameralism can be interpreted as an ‘accident of history’. 68 Brian Galligan and James Warden did not dismiss or ignore the question of bicameralism in their erudite discussion of ‘The design of the Senate’ but they did not treat it in depth. They merely reported that ‘all agreed that there was to be a Senate’ and ‘because of their political socialisation in English and Australian parliamentary traditions, the founders, who were colonial parliamentarians, took legislative bicameralism for granted’ and ‘that it was probably inevitable’. 69 The authors also cited the influence of the American example, and, unusually, mentioned some opposition, if in a roundabout way:70 the views of Deakin and his radical nationalist colleagues implied the abolition of both federalism and the Senate. The claims that federalism is an anachronism and the Senate is undemocratic have enjoyed widespread 67 Ibid., p.59. 68 Ibid., p.25. 69 Galligan and Warden, 'The Design of the Senate', pp.89-111. 70 Ibid., p.91. Chapter 1: Introduction 24 support in Australia because they appeal to the populist democratic sentiments of our Westminster parliamentary tradition.71 Barton would have strongly disagreed with this assessment: As he put it:‘I take it there is no one here who will for one moment imagine that any form of government by a Parliament consisting of one House, could be designated a Federation’. 72 But no one can suppose that any pressure in favour of traditional forms would have been brought to bear upon the democratic communities in Australasia and South Africa, had they preferred to strike out a new path for themselves. But with unbroken unanimity they have adhered to the old. Again we must ask: Why? Galligan and Warden were writing in 1986 and did not address the question of whether or not a senate was necessary. In strong contrast to most historians, at least one student of political institutions has actually questioned the need for a Senate in Australia. Marriott questioned why what he called ‘the civilised world’ preferred bicameralism and why Australia, among other colonial polities chose that system: 73 Marriott cited the familiar arguments in support of second chambers: a ‘counterpoise to democratic fervour’; the safety which lies in ‘sober second thoughts’; and the value of delay; but he said these familiar arguments no longer seem valid. He went on to suggest that the ‘only satisfactory appeal … is the appeal to history; the only safe guide, that of experience’ and suggested that perhaps ‘the world has set up a constitutional fetish’. Have the newer democracies such as Australia simply followed ‘sheep-like a misguided leader; or that institutions have been unintelligently imitated without sufficient regard to conditioning circumstances?’ or is it that under very different conditions bicameralism is a natural, not artificial growth? 74 Marriott sought answers in history by discussing the origins of second chambers and how they evolved from representing the various divisions in English society 71 Ibid., p.101. 72 OR, 23 March 1897, p.21. Ibid., p.102. 73 Marriott, Second Chambers - an Inductive Study in Political Science, p.2. 74 Ibid., p.3. Chapter 1: Introduction 25 from the 13th century, when the model Parliament summoned by Edward I in 1295 represented this principle. By the middle of the 14th century it had evolved into a ‘Commons’ House of Parliament and a House of Lords in which form it more or less endured until the 20th century.75 Marriott also addressed the friction which had frequently occurred between the two Legislative Chambers in the Australian Colonies and of which the Convention delegates, practising politicians for the most part, were well aware. He considered it remarkable that ‘in the long discussions which preceded the consummation of the Federal Commonwealth no proposal for the erection of a unicameral legislature ever obtained any serious or influential support’. His is an interesting discussion and relevant to Australia as the Australian Senate can be traced back to these early parliamentary structures. This is clear in the frequent references to the British House of Lords as a role model for an Australian upper house in the Convention debates. 76 This comment supports his argument that it was history and experience, or even what he calls a ‘constitutional fetish’ that persuaded the constitution makers to establish a Senate and underpinned the more practical arguments for State representation or a House of Review.77 Path dependence or other indications of subconscious, maybe even irrational, behaviour do not enter the arguments of English writer and politician H.B. Lees- Smith, a Liberal MP who had joined the Labour Party and in 1931 was, briefly, a Cabinet Minister. Lees-Smith saw second chambers as a ‘clumsy and complicated addition to the structure of Government’. Expounding on the virtues and vices of second chambers he is most interesting in addressing the question ‘Are the Dangers of Single Chambers Serious?’ Lees-Smith challenged the idea that a With this evocative phrase Marriott forcibly expressed the reasoning behind the theory of path dependence. Had the term ‘path dependence’ been available he would surely have been tempted to use it to explain the ‘subliminal’ behaviour of the legislators. 75 Ibid., pp.5-6. 76 Ibid., p.112. 77 Ibid. Chapter 1: Introduction 26 second chamber can restrain any hasty actions of a democratically elected house: ‘This view takes no account of the potent influences of the general election that is to come’ he argued. In this he has followed and quoted from Walter Bagehot who suggested famously that a ‘steady opposition to a formed public opinion is hardly possible in our House of Commons, so incessant is the national attention to politics, and so keen the fear in the mind of each member—that he may lose his valued seat’.78 More recent publications include Helen Irving’s collection of essays entitled To Constitute a Nation. Here there are no suggestions that a Senate was unnecessary and of the several entries on the subject none question the need for an upper house. Irving’s work mainly addressed the issues of equal representation of the States and the attitude that this was regarded as undemocratic but necessary to persuade the smaller States to join the federation. Lees-Smith’s section on the Australian legislature is historically thorough but made no further comment on why a Senate was included in the structure of the Federal Parliament although his views on second chambers as ‘clumsy and complicated’ were quite clear. 79 George Tsebelis and Jeannette Money attempt to unravel the complexities of bicameralism with a view to identifying the effect of bicameral legislatures on political outcomes. In the section titled ‘Bicameralism in historical perspective’ they examined the historical background and experiences of several legislatures. Their discussion reinforces the view that the English model from the 14th century was the primary example, though underpinned by the ancient Greek theory of mixed government. 80 78 H B Lees-Smith, Second Chambers in Theory and Practice, (London: George Allen & Unwin Ltd, 1923), pp.38-39. 79 Ibid., p.147. 80 George Tsebelis and Jeanette Money, Bi-Cameralism, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), pp.15, 21. They have also ranged further to discuss the evolution of bicameral legislatures from earlier unicameral legislatures in 18th and 19th century Europe, such as Germany, Switzerland and the Netherlands. They touched upon modern federal systems and, though highly theoretical, their discussions have relevance to Chapter 1: Introduction 27 the Australian situation in delineating the effects of bicameralism on political programmes, though without an answer to the question ‘Why a Senate?’ Political scientists Samuel C. Patterson and Anthony Mughan, in a wide-ranging discussion of bicameralism, discuss the development of European parliaments that included ‘second chambers’ or ‘upper houses’ suggesting that this is an indication of the pre-eminence and survival of aristocracy. Even though ‘senates have long outlived their original purposes and justification’, they argued, ‘they have, in one way or another, been transformed into modern, viable Parliamentary institutions’.81 Like Meg Russell (Reforming the House of Lords, 2000) they noted that in ‘the English-language literature there is very little about parliaments that has focused on upper houses’.82 Though Patterson and Mughan’s discussion focused on the American experience it does have relevance to the Australian situation. For example they claimed that the division of the American National Legislature into two bodies was little debated in 1787 and has been taken for granted ever since; a scenario repeated in Australia. Instead of ‘path dependence’ Patterson and Mughan use the phrase ‘hidden power’ but it too suggests that a powerful layer of sentiment can overcome pragmatism in institutional decisions. This is revealed most clearly in the continuity of tradition, ceremonial and symbolism in the procedures of the Senate and which can be traced back to the House of Lords. This aspect will be explored in a later chapter. 83 81 Patterson and Mughan, eds., Senates: Bicameralism in the Contemporary World, p.ix. 82 Ibid., p.x. Meg Russell, Reforming the House of Lords: Lessons from Overseas, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p.44. 83 Patterson and Mughan, eds., Senates: Bicameralism in the Contemporary World, p.9. The major justification for the United States was that it would conciliate the small States by giving them the same representation as the larger States—that is, two Senators each. This aspect did not translate well into Australia because with only six states, two Senators each would not have provided enough members for a functional House. The solution in the Constitution was to provide for six senators from each State. Chapter 1: Introduction 28 Patterson and Mughan delved into the origins of bicameralism as a representational basis for social classes and discussed the house of review theory as a restraint on the lower house which might be ‘liable to err … from fickleness and passion’ against which a second chamber would provide ‘a necessary defence’.84 Along with theoretical discussions, Patterson and Mughan’s book includes essays by contributors on various bicameral legislatures. Australian political scientist, John Uhr, contributed the Australian article entitled: ‘Generating Divided Government: The Australian Senate’. Uhr’s contribution does not discuss the reasons for a Senate but concentrated on its role as a house of review and a platform for minority voices, especially after the introduction of proportional representation: another silence.85 Alastair Davidson, an Australian political scientist, again does not question the establishment of a Senate in his book The Invisible State, only recognising that it was preordained at the 1890 Conference which approved the establishment of a Parliament to ‘consist of a Senate and a House of Representatives’. He discusses some of the convention debates about the Senate and argues that it was envisaged in the beginning that it would not be representative of the monied interests, but of the people, in contrast to the Colonial upper houses. His major discourse including the Senate, is on the thorny issue of relations between the houses and the solution to deadlocks, but he makes no comments on whether the institution was really necessary. Political scientists showed more interest in the question of whether an upper house is necessary, but their conclusions suggest that the strongest motivating factors are history and tradition. Unsurprisingly path dependence is a theory developed by political scientists. 86 Moving on from political scientists, I reviewed ten general histories of Australia published between 1916 and 2004 to ascertain what the general reader might learn 84 Ibid., p.14. 85 John Uhr, 'Generating Divided Government: The Australian Senate', in Senates in the Contemporary World, ed. Samuel C. Patterson and Anthony Mughan, (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1999), pp.93-119. 86 Alastair Davidson, The Invisible State: The Formation of the Australian State 1788 - 1901, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), pp. 231–234. Chapter 1: Introduction 29 about the origins of the Senate from these works. As general histories, often covering a broad time span and wide range of topics, they cannot be expected to discuss Parliamentary issues in detail. Nevertheless, it is at least curious that the structure of Parliament receives so little attention and the Senate even less. Those who skirt the issue include: W. K. Hancock87; B.K. de Garis in F. K. Crowley’s book of essays;88 and C.M.H. Clark.89 The Oxford Companion to Australian History does not include a discussion of Parliament.90 Historians who did include some discussion of Parliament provide meagre detail. An exception is Ernest Scott who provided a quite expansive paragraph on the subject of Parliament and the structure of the Senate, without questioning the need for it. 91 Discussion of Parliament by other historians included R.A. Gollan in 1955, who considered federation and some aspects of the structure and powers of the Senate,92 and John Molony, who provided a discussion on federation with a brief summary of the structure of the Senate,93 while Stuart Macintyre confined his discussion to the differences in representation of the two houses.94 Frank Welsh, in the last work in this selection, accepted the establishment of the Senate without question or comment.95 This survey of the literature on the Australian Senate and its origins suggests that attitudes to it range from acceptance to apathy. The brief attention from historians suggests that many appear to have accepted the Constitution makers’ decision in All of these are excellent works on the broad issues of Australian history but the student would need to go elsewhere to read about Parliament and the Senate. 87 W.K. Hancock, Australia, (London: Ernest Benn Limited, 1930). 88 B.K. de Garis, ‘1890-1900’ in Frank Crowley, A New History of Australia, (Melbourne: William Heinemann, 1974), pp.216-59. 89 C.M.H. Clark, A History of Australia, vol. V (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1981). 90 The Oxford Companion to Australian History, ed. Graeme Davison, et al., (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1998). 91 Ernest Scott, A Short History of Australia, (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1936). 92 R.A. Gollan, 'Nationalism, the Labour Movement and the Commonwealth', in Australia: A Social and Political History, ed. Gordon Greenwood (Sydney: Angus and Robertson, 1955). 93 John Molony, The Penguin History of Australia, (Ringwood: Penguin, 1987), pp.185-189. 94 Stuart Macintyre, A Concise History of Australia, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), p.138. 95 Frank Welsh, Great Southern Land: A New History of Australia, (London: Allen Lane, 2004). Chapter 1: Introduction 30 this regard in the same frame of mind—as a matter of course—as the delegates to the Conventions, leading to an odd silence on the establishment of this significant third arm of the Australian legislature. The inescapable conclusion is that the initial motivation was based upon tradition, the colonial experience of the Constitution’s authors, and inertia, or the heart ruling the head, if they ever actively considered it at all. The decision was justified by constructing it as a States’ House and a house of review, but these factors followed the initial decision to create a second chamber. What this brief survey shows is that few historians or political scientists have thoughtfully addressed the question ‘Why a Senate?’ Only Garran considered it in any detail and his conclusion that it was ‘more or less an historical accident’ is surely wrong.96 If we turn to works which discuss the architecture, ritual, practices and procedures of Australia’s six parliaments, again we find little work of analysis. The main works in this genre are from the English canon and are mostly quite recent. They are interesting for the light they shed on Australia’s parliamentary practices, which contain some of the clearest evidence of path dependence. The main sources of these publications are the Parliaments themselves, usually in the form of publicity pamphlets or commissioned books. Although they address the architecture, ritual and procedures they are usually brief and selective, revealing another silence or gap in the historiography. Primary sources on the topics are scarce and fragmentary and only occasionally appear in official sources such as Parliamentary debates. Administrative files on the subject are scattered and elusive if they can be traced at all. Some questions remain unanswered except in general terms. Records of the acquisition of a Black Rod in Tasmania’s Parliament, for example, can not be traced despite extensive searching by the Parliamentary historian. It was an ‘accident’ that was bound to happen. 97 This aim of this thesis is to ask why Australia has a Senate. Why? Because no-one else has. Scholars, historians and political scientists have not asked this question 96 Garran, The Coming Commonwealth, an Australian Handbook of Federal Government, pp.30-32. 97 Personal communication with Terry Newman, Parliamentary Historian, Parliament of Tasmania, 27 May, 2008. Chapter 1: Introduction 31 and although they have struggled over its role, structure and activities, they have been silent on the reasons for its establishment in the first place. This thesis will look beyond the current literature and examine the major players in the debates for clues as to where their ideas came from and why a Senate was accepted so readily. The thesis seeks to answer the question by approaching it from two distinct but complementary directions: first a study of the intellectual forces found in the Convention Debates to identify the attitudes, hopes and aspirations of those making the decisions on Australia’s Parliament; followed by fieldwork in the State and Federal parliaments to observe the working of practices, rituals and symbols at first hand. The methodology undertaken for the thesis was to begin with a study of the records of the debates of the Conventions of the 1890s which drafted Australia’s Constitution. Running to several thousand pages these five volumes, which George Reid enumerated as ‘one volume of moderate size … one volume of 1,110 pages’ and ‘two volumes of 2,544 pages’, formed the basis of the exhaustive research into the various influences on the delegates in their deliberations on the establishment of the Senate.98 The thesis is structured in eight chapters, the Introduction setting out the context of the question, the gap in the research, a theoretical framework, a review of the literature, the aims of the project and a description of the methodology. This is followed by chapters analysing the comments of the delegates in the debates to seek, in turn, which constitutional authorities they were familiar with and possibly Australian State Parliaments and the Federal Parliament supported this primary study, which sought detailed, local knowledge and primary information on the processes involved in establishing and maintaining the separate upper houses in their traditional role, as well as the attitudes and experiences of parliamentarians. An added feature of the research was to personally observe the procedures, rituals and ceremonies of the State Parliaments as legacies of Westminster and to examine how and if these had been adapted by the Australian Senate. Was this another example of path dependence? 98 The Right Honourable Sir George Houston Reid, My Reminiscences, (London: Cassell and Company Ltd., 1917), p.163. Chapter 1: Introduction 32 influenced by, their visions of an ideal senate and an ideal senator, followed by three chapters on the influence of the models the delegates looked to in structuring the second chamber. These included the major models of Westminster, Canada, Washington and the Colonial Parliaments, extending to aspects of other Constitutions discussed by the delegates. The final section deals with how Parliamentary buildings, internal architecture, procedures, rituals and ceremonies reflect the heritage of Westminster. I will argue that the decision to adopt a Senate was taken with both head and heart. The heads assumed that a second chamber was needed to placate the putative States or to restrain a fledgling democracy. The hearts yearned for a second chamber for historical and sentimental reasons that sometimes conflicted with the ‘head’ and are best understood as an effect of what social scientists call path dependence. Australia ultimately has a Senate largely for the same reason that the carpets and seats in the chamber are red. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 33 Chapter 2 On Whose Authority? Federation is not a question of textbooks. Henry Higgins, OR, 10 September 1897, p.346. Higgins’ impatient remark takes us to the heart of a question not previously explored in any detail by students of Federation: how important were learned authorities in shaping the system that was ultimately adopted? Ironically, the erudite and urbane Victorian lawyer regularly invoked learned authority in his contributions to debate, as did many of his colleagues. Who were these authorities and in what context were they introduced? The chapter which follows will systematically explore the citation of learned authority by the delegates; first it will identify and discuss the authorities cited and their works and then explore the influence of those referred to by various delegates, with a special focus on how their reading might have influenced their attitudes to the future structure and expected role of the Senate. I will argue that although some authorities were very influential they were not decisive in shaping the Australian Federation and in particular the Senate. Rather, learned authority was used to buttress existing viewpoints, it did not create them, and on at least one important issue the same authority was cited in support of opposite sides of the same argument. The chapter will also examine reasons for the increased use of authorities as the 1890s wore on. By authorities I refer to recognised writers, historians, and political scientists who published works relating to federations and constitutions up to 1898, and which could have been read by the delegates. Some delegates demonstrated, even occasionally showed off, a thorough knowledge and understanding of the literature on federations, but it is possible that others read very little. Australian Constitutional historian J.A. La Nauze argued that Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 34 ‘only a minority could be justly described as well-informed’.1 It can be assumed that most of the delegates would have been familiar with a manual by Richard Chaffey Baker which was distributed to the delegates before the first Convention in 1891.2 In his manual Baker described the American, Canadian, Swiss and South African Constitutions for the information of the delegates which provided them with a summary of the basic principles of Federation in a readily accessible form. In 1897 he published a further work, a pamphlet on various forms of executive government, for the benefit of delegates wishing to unravel the thorny problems of the topic— one close to Baker’s heart. The work was published in May 1891, after the first Convention, to satisfy the many requests for copies Baker received from interested parties and so would also have been available to delegates to the 1897–98 Convention. Baker was a lawyer and politician who served in South Australia’s Parliament from 1868 to 1901, in both the Legislative Assembly and the Legislative Council, and was President of the Council from 1893. He attended both the Conventions but not the 1890 Conference, and was elected Chairman of Committees in 1897–98. In 1901 he became the first President of the Australian Senate. His was an important contribution to the work of drawing up Australia’s Constitution. 3 La Nauze suggested that the delegates might also have read other ‘elementary text books’ including Robert Garran’s The Coming Commonwealth. He also provided a list of other authorities for the further edification of the delegates. Baker’s guide is a valuable insight into who were regarded as authorities at the time of the Conventions. Although not all the writers he recommended were referred to in the debates, enough of them were to conclude that many took Baker’s advice seriously. 4 1 J.A. La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution,, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1972), pp.272-3. 2 Richard Chaffey Baker, A Manual of Reference to Authorities for the Use of the Members of the Australasian Convention Which Will Assemble at Sydney on March 2, 1891, (Adelaide: W.K.Thomas & Co., 1891). The schedule of books recommended by Baker are listed at Appendix 1. 3 Richard Chaffey Baker, The Executive in a Federation, (Adelaide: C.E. Bristow, Government Printer, North Terrace, 1897). 4 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, p.273; Robert Randolph Garran, The Coming Commonwealth, an Australian Handbook of Federal Government, (Sydney, London: Angus & Robertson, Simpkin, Marshall, 1897). Garran’s work Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 35 was not published until 1897 and so was not available to the earlier meetings of 1890 and 1891. Alfred Deakin, a delegate from Victoria and a future Prime Minister of Australia, described it as ‘one of the most lucid and well digested political handbooks which we possess on this important subject’.5 Apart from Baker’s manual, which was a useful introduction and probably a spur to the delegates to read about the theories of federalism, the principal published authority was without doubt James Bryce. His name crops up frequently in the debates, usually in relation to his magnum opus The American Commonwealth. The delegates’ readings naturally enough covered all the issues associated with federation, including the questions of bicameralism and upper houses. As discussed in the previous chapter, the decision to establish a bicameral Parliament for Australia had been accepted without question before the Conventions even began, so it was not then an issue, though occasional remarks from delegates suggest that it was not forgotten. 6 According to Edwin Blackmore, Clerk to the 1897–8 Convention,7 Bryce’s work lay on ‘the Table’ throughout those proceedings.8 5 OR, 30 March 1897, p.288. 6 James Bryce, The American Commonwealth, 1st ed., Three vols., (London: Macmillan, 1888). 7 Edwin Gordon Blackmore, Clerk of the Legislative Council and of the Parliament of South Australia and later the first Clerk of the Federal Senate. 8 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, p.273. The American Commonwealth was first published in 1888 and was the earliest work to comprehensively address the institutions of the United States. It is a work of extraordinary brilliance and was published at a very opportune time for the Australian Federation Conventions. A distinguished British historian and statesman, Bryce published works on history and biography, as well as a study of South Africa after a visit to that country in 1897. Born in Belfast and with strong Scottish links, he was also an MP and cabinet minister, facts which, by the mid 1890s, would have given his views greater weight than those of many scholars. That Bryce was extensively read by many delegates is clear from the number of times he was quoted in the debates. He was even quoted before the 1890 Conference when Parkes referred to him on the subject of the government’s dependence on the will of the lower house, which meant that ‘no great scheme’ was possible because of the brief rule of Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 36 governments under the parliamentary system. Parkes then compared it with the United States ‘that unequalled system’ in which the congress had no control over the executive, the president.9 In that monumental work by Mr. Bryce, Already in 1889 the comparative merits of the two systems were being considered and the opinion of Bryce taken seriously. His name first appeared during the 1890 Conference where The American Commonwealth was given this glowing testimonial by Deakin: The American Commonwealth, are summed up, in the most perspicuous and able manner, almost all the lessons which the political student could hope to call from an exhaustive, impartial, and truly critical examination of the institutions of that country with which we are so closely allied. As a text-book for the philosophic study of constitutional questions it takes its place in the very first rank.10 For a more general approach to the history of federalism, Edward Augustus Freeman was the main authority for those described by La Nauze as ‘the more literate’ delegates, especially Josiah Symon and Patrick Glynn who both quoted from him extensively. This was not all Deakin said about Bryce’s work. He went on to expound from Bryce various facets of the American Constitution of 1787. His discussion revealed that he was thoroughly versed in Bryce’s work and admired it greatly. He also demonstrated his admiration and knowledge of the Constitution of the United States. Only Deakin quoted from Bryce in 1890, but undoubtedly many of the delegates went home and read the work, for it was referred to often in the subsequent Conventions. The inclusion of Bryce in Baker’s list would also have encouraged study of his work. 11 Freeman (1823–1892) was an English historian and a prolific writer. He was appointed Regius Professor of Modern History at Oxford in 1884. His first book was a History of Architecture (1849), and he went on to publish on a wide range of historical and political matters in reviews, books and articles.12 9 A.W. Martin, Henry Parkes: A Biography, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1980), p.381. 10 OR, 10 February 1890, p.25. 11 E.A. Freeman, History of Federal Government in Greece and Italy, ed. J. B. Bury, (London: Macmillan, 1893); La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, p.273. 12 Margaret Drabble, ed., The Oxford Companion to English Literature, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1985). Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 37 His best known work was his five volume History of the Norman Conquest (1867- 79), his longest completed book, which was read by at least one delegate, Andrew Inglis Clark of Tasmania. Clark considered Freeman to be ‘the English author who has studied the most closely, and written the most exhaustively on federal government’.13 Another of Freeman’s works, The Growth of the English Constitution, was referred to by Isaac Isaacs and it is quite likely that other works of his were known and read by the delegates.14 Bryce had been a student of Freeman’s and wrote a not entirely uncritical appreciation of him and his work for the English Historical Review in 1892. 15 Latterly Freeman’s work is not held in high regard. According to the Oxford Companion to English Literature he was handicapped by an ‘uncontrollable prolixity’ and that the ‘selectivity of his sources and his eccentric handling of them meant that his work was already being superseded when he died in 1892’.16 Goldwin Smith (1823–1910) was another favourite authority among the delegates, his name cropping up to support a variety of speakers and arguments. He was included in Baker’s list with reference to a journal article ‘The Canadian Constitution’ in 1887. Nevertheless his opinions and conclusions on the principles of Federation were taken very seriously by the delegates to the 1897–8 Convention. 17 First mentioned in 1890 by Deakin he was referred to again in 1891 by Edmund Barton, Baker, John Alexander Cockburn, again by Baker, Cockburn and Simon Fraser, in 1897, and in 1898 by Isaacs and Glynn.18 13 OR, 11 February 1890, p.35; 11 March 1891, p.243. 14 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.180. 15 James Bryce, 'Edward Augustus Freeman', The English Historical Review VII, July 1892. 16 Drabble, Oxford Companion to English Literature, p.368. 17 Goldwin Smith, ‘The Canadian Constitution’, Contemporary Review, July 1887. 18 OR, Deakin, 13 February 1890, pp.96, 98; Barton, 6 March 1891, p.92; Cockburn, 3 April 1891, p.712, 16 September 1897, p.878; Baker, 6 March 1891, p.110, 23 March 1897, p.29; Fraser, 24 March 1897, p.80; Isaacs, 9 February 1898, pp.719, 758, 10 March 1898, p.2183; Glynn, 11 February 1898, p.854. There is a preponderance here of South Australian delegates which indicates the influence of Baker’s advice on their readings. A pattern can also be seen to emerge of delegates, after hearing the names of certain authorities and seeing them recommended in Baker’s manual, taking the logical course of reading the works for Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 38 themselves. In this the different pattern of electing delegates to the Conventions, and the break between 1891 and 1897, may have played a part in encouraging the delegates to read recognised works on federation, giving them time to study the subject more closely as well as considering the possibility of being elected as a delegate. It was Deakin again who gave the lead on Goldwin Smith as only he mentioned him in 1890, though he did not mention him at subsequent meetings. A British historian, Goldwin Smith’s reputation rested mainly on his book Canada and the Canadian Question (1891).19 This came after the article recommended by Baker but was probably a useful reference for the delegates who viewed Canada as an example of a successful Federation of separate British colonies and looked to the Canadian experience for models and danger signals. Smith’s opinions of the Canadian federation were not flattering, especially his unfavourable views on the idea of a nominated Senate.20 The Canadian Senate was nominated and, in Smith’s opinion, did not work well.21 Not everyone admired his work, Fraser advising the Convention that Goldwin Smith was ‘thoroughly disrated in that part of the world’ [Canada].22 An interesting and seemingly restless character, Goldwin Smith was a prolific writer, expounding his controversial views on democracy, imperialism, and studies in social science and literature, and it is likely that other works of his were familiar to the delegates, The United States: an Outline of Political History (1893), for example. Also a professor of modern history at Oxford he later left England for the United States where he held the professorship of English and Constitutional history at Cornell University until 1871, when he moved to Toronto, where he remained for the rest of his life. Goldwin Smith’s history has lost much of its credibility because of his extreme racist views, especially his anti-Semitism. As Hugh Tulloch, an 19 Goldwin Smith, Canada and the Canadian Question, (London: Macmillan, 1891). 20 OR, Barton, 6 March 1891, p.92. 21 Canada’s Senate is still an appointed body. Smith, Canada and the Canadian Question, p. 163. 22 OR, 24 March 1897, p.80. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 39 English historian writing in 1988, put it: ‘In isolation Smith succumbed to a racial paranoia’.23 Another authority recommended by Baker was Albert Venn Dicey ( 1835–1922), a Professor of Common Law at Oxford. He was a respected constitutional theorist whose work An Introduction to the Study of the Law of the Constitution (1885) was regarded as a seminal work and guide to the understanding of the British Constitution. His biographer, Richard Cosgrove, commented, ‘The clarity of his prose made the work accessible to a wide spectrum of educated opinion’. He goes on to say that Dicey reduced the complex topic to three concepts: parliamentary sovereignty, the rule of law, and constitutional conventions (unwritten rules).24 Three of Dicey’s works were listed by Baker, but the one of most interest to the delegates was An Introduction to the Study of the Law of the Constitution (1885), sometimes referred to simply as The Law of the Constitution. Andrew Joseph Thynne and Cockburn quoted Dicey twice in 1891, and though neither of them name the work, Cockburn speaks of his ‘admirable work on Federal Government’.25 In 1897 Isaacs brought Dicey in to support his argument against equal representation in the Senate and named his source as Dicey’s The Law of the Constitution.26 In 1898 Bernhard Ringrose Wise also brought Dicey and the same work into his argument on legal matters.27 Though not mentioned by other delegates it can be assumed that with Baker’s recommendation and Dicey’s reputation as a leading constitutional scholar of his day, his work was not unfamiliar to the delegates and must have had some influence on their thinking. Bryce, Freeman, Goldwin Smith and Dicey were colleagues and contemporaries in the Oxford milieu of their era and were familiar 23 Hugh Tulloch, James Bryce's American Commonwealth: the Anglo-American Background, (Woodbridge: Royal Historical Society: the Boydell Press, 1988). 24 Richard Cosgrove, ‘Dicey, Albert Venn, (1835-1922)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 2004, vol.16, p.44. 25 OR, 10 March 1891, p.198. 26 Ibid., 10 September 1897, pp.212-3. 27 Ibid., 1 March 1898, p.1686. http://www.nationmaster.com/encyclopedia/1835� http://www.nationmaster.com/encyclopedia/1922� http://www.nationmaster.com/graph-T/gov_con� http://www.nationmaster.com/encyclopedia/1885� http://www.nationmaster.com/encyclopedia/1885� Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 40 with each other’s views. Bryce even dedicated his American Commonwealth to Dicey.28 Walter Bagehot, a 19th century British economist and commentator, was another English authority referred to by the delegates, though mostly in the later stages in 1898. 29 His book The English Constitution, first published in 1867, explored the constitution of the United Kingdom and considered the contrasts between the British and American systems. Bagehot’s work came to be regarded as a standard work on government and his observations on the role of the monarchy and the executive influenced interpretations well into the 20th century.30 Some less frequently cited authorities were the more specialist writers John George Bourinot (1837–1902), a Canadian author, and Erskine May (1815–86), a parliamentary specialist whose views on procedure were canvassed by some delegates. Bourinot and May were writers with some points in common. Both were parliamentary officials and both wrote accounts of parliamentary procedure as they saw it in their respective institutions. Bourinot, a journalist and parliamentary reporter, was an officer of the Canadian Senate and House of Commons. He derived his authority from his experience in these positions, and in his role as Clerk of the House of Commons would have advised the Speaker and other members on parliamentary procedure. La Nauze unkindly described him as ‘one of those worthy parliamentary officials who (like Blackmore in his own sphere) were content to compile rather than analyse’, and his work as ‘mostly … uncritical and For the delegates it was Bagehot’s decided views on the superiority of the British cabinet system of government over the United States Presidential system, which he considered to be flawed and inflexible, that were particularly relevant. His work provided his readers, amongst whom were Baker, Glynn, and Isaacs, with insights, information and conclusions on various aspects of constitutions and of government. 28 Tulloch, James Bryce's American Commonwealth: the Anglo-American Background, pp.37-8, 21, 26, 38-44. 29 Walter Bagehot, The English Constitution, (London: C. A. Watts, 1964). 30 Joseph Hamburger, ‘Bagehot, Walter, (1826–1873)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 2004, vol.3, pp. 218–224. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 41 descriptive’.31 Baker listed two of Bourinot’s books in his manual: Federal Government in Canada (1887) and the Manual of the Constitution of Canada. But from the quotations mentioned in the debates it is clear that other works of his were read by delegates. Joseph Abbott for example described Bourinot as ‘a great constitutional writer … who is accepted as an authority on most matters relating to parliamentary law, and who is continually quoted as a constitutional authority throughout the British Empire’.32 First referred to by John William Downer in 1891, he was also quoted by Isaacs and Deakin in 1897 and Symon in 1898, usually on procedural matters.33 May served a long period at Westminster. He rose through the ranks from assistant librarian to become Clerk of the House of Commons from 1871 to 1886. During his service he wrote several works on Constitutions but it was his Parliamentary Practice, first published in 1841, that would have been of most interest to the Convention delegates. His work was not listed by Baker but it had been used by the New South Wales parliament. In 1851, according to May’s biographer, William McKay, the Speaker of the New South Wales Legislative Council told May that his work was indispensable to the ‘colonial legislatures’. 34 From this it seems that other Australian legislatures used his work and that delegates with a parliamentary background would have been familiar with his writings. He did not appear in the debates until 1898 when only Baker and Barton referred to him in a discussion on the finer points of procedures relating to petitions and Bills.35 May edited a further eight editions of Parliamentary Practice and it is still updated and in print.36 31 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, p.274. 32 OR, 11 March 1898, p.2287. 33 Abbott referred to an article ‘The Canadian Dominion and proposed Australian Commonwealth: a Study in Comparative Politics’, Ibid., 1 March 1898, p.2287; Downer, referred to ‘an essay on Canadian Federation’, Ibid., 3 April; 1891, p.715; Symon referred to a ‘valuable article in the Arena’, Ibid., 31 January 1898, pp.344-5. Isaacs did not specify his source, Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.175. 34 William McKay, ‘May, Thomas Erskine, Baron Farnborough, (1815–1886)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 2004, vol.37. pp. 561–563. 35 OR, Baker, 4 March 1898, p.1869; Barton, 8 March 1898, p.2061. 36 Sir Donald Limon, ed., Erskine May’s Treatise on the Law, Privileges, Proceedings and Usage of Parliament, (Butterworths, London, 1997). Undoubtedly Bourinot and May had a strong influence on the procedures for the new Federal Parliament. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 42 Other authorities mentioned by the delegates, though not obscure or minor in their own right, did not feature often in the debates. These included classical writers relating to ancient or older constitutions and some contemporary writers whose work only touched on the business of the debates or who were referred to infrequently. In this regard and in a fine show of erudition and a scholarly duel with Symon, Higgins managed to introduce six authorities and some classics in one speech on 10 September, 1897.37 Burke (1729-1797) was not an obscure figure but was only twice mentioned in the debates. A statesman and an 18th century political thinker and parliamentarian he played a prominent part in all major political issues in Britain for about 30 years after 1765, when he was elected to the British House of Commons, and remains an important figure in the history of political theory. John Bagnall Bury was a classical scholar and editor of Freeman’s History of Federal Government, to which he added some thoughts of his own, while Montesquieu was a major figure of the French Enlightenment credited with being one of the principal inventors of political science. It was an impassioned speech against equal State representation in the Senate and he brought in Edmund Burke, Edward Freeman, John Bury, Montesquieu, Bishop Thirlwall and Strabo to support his argument. The debate on the controversial question of whether there should be an equal number of senators for each State had references to eight authorities by six delegates and became a battle between Symon and Higgins, who held opposite views on the question. 38 Bishop (Connop) Thirlwall (1797-1875) referred to once, was one of the more obscure authors cited. His claim to constitutional fame stems from his History of Greece (1835-1844) and a translation of Niebuhr’s History of Rome. His brief mention and the dates of his work suggest that his influence on the delegates was probably negligible and pertained to the Grecian system of Government, a recognised antecedent for Federal Government.39 37 OR, 10 September 1897, p.348. 38 Peter V. Conroy Jr, Montesquieu Revisited, ed. David O'Connell, vol.829, (New York: Twayne Publishers, 1992), cover essay. Equally obscure was Strabo 39 The Skythian Campaign, www.metrum.org/perwars/skyth.htm. Accessed 16 July 2008. http://www.metrum.org/perwars/skyth.htm� Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 43 (63BC–24AD), a Greek geographer and philosopher, whose work Geographica impressed Higgins with its description of the Constitution of the Lykian League.40 Higgins had more to say on 15 September when he introduced Benjamin Franklin (1706–1790), the American constitutionalist and John Stuart Mill (1806–1873) a noted philosopher whose works are legion, but in this case his essay ‘Of a Second Chamber’ in On Liberty was the source of Higgins’ comments. 41 His argument here is on the perceived necessity of a second chamber and he introduces his speech with the words: ‘I submit, that in no form of government are two houses necessary—I hope I shall not be taken as advocating that there should be only one house in this government’. It is difficult to interpret this remark in any other way, especially as he goes on to say ‘As Benjamin Franklin said a long time ago, the system of having two houses does bear a resemblance to trying to drag a cart with one horse in front and one horse behind, one horse pulls one way and the other horse pulls the other way’.42 Higgins seems to contradict himself here but underlying his comments is his opinion, never openly expressed, that an upper house was an anachronism. His biographer comments that Higgins ‘had little time for States rights’, rights which were the main justification for a Senate.43 William Edward Hartpole Lecky (1838–1903) was another of the authors referred to infrequently in the debates, mostly in reference to the referendum. Lecky was an Irish historian whose major work was an eight volume History of England in the Eighteenth Century (1878-1890). This, says Joseph Spence, his biographer, was regarded ‘as a manual for Irish politics’. In this speech he goes as far as he ever does but as the decision for bicameralism was now irrevocable he was circuitous in his comments. 44 Thomas Playford quoted from it as early as 1890,45 but it was another and later one of his works, Democracy and Liberty 40 OR, 10 September 1897, p.348. 41 John Stuart Mill, On Liberty and Other Essays, ed. John Gray, (Oxford University Press, 1991,) pp.384-392. 42 OR, 15 September 1897, p.790. 43 John Rickard, H.B.Higgins: The Rebel as Judge, (Sydney: George Allen & Unwin, 1984), p.94. 44 Joseph Spence, ‘Lecky, (William) Hartpole, (1838–1903)’, Oxford Dictionary of National Biography, 2004. vol.33, pp.27–32. 45 OR, 13 February 1890, p.13. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 44 (1896), to which Dobson and Isaacs referred when they cited him in 1897 and 1898. In this work Lecky referred to the ‘tyranny of the majority’ a phrase used by Dobson, while Isaacs cited Lecky’s work in reference to the idea of a referendum: ‘It is to be remembered … that the referendum is not intended as a substitute for representative government’.46 Judge Joseph Story, an American lawyer, whose work Commentaries on the Constitution was recommended by Baker, was an authority used more frequently by the delegates. Symon, when introducing him into the debates, prefaced a quotation from him with this accolade: ‘Mr. Justice Story … probably one of the greatest constitutional writers who ever lived in the United States or any other country, and an authority whose value will not be questioned’. Other authorities cited included a Canadian parliamentary writer, Alpheus Todd (1821-1884). An official in the Canadian parliament, Todd made a study of responsible parliamentary Government and focused on the role of the crown and its representative in the Colonies, the Governor-General. Under the principle of responsible government, executive responsibility resides in the Prime Minister, who is leader of the House with the greater financial powers. In turn the Prime Minister is responsible to the other Ministers who form a Cabinet, through them to the Parliament and through Parliament to the people. Todd’s work Parliamentary Government in the Colonies, was recommended by Baker and referred to in discussions on the constitutional role of the Governor-General and the Crown in the Australian Constitution as well as consideration of some military issues. 47 … he points out two grounds for the existence of the senate, and emphasises a double reason for its existence in connection with our proposal. The senate is not merely a state house-it is something more; it is also a revising chamber … which we determine shall be free from the faults, … of Story’s work was the basis of a lively discussion between Symon, Wise and Barton on equal representation and the existence of the Senate, on 10 September 1897. Wise quoted from Story in this way: 46 Ibid., Dobson, 15 September 1897, p.637; Isaacs, 10 March 1898, p.2184. 47 Ibid., 10 September 1897, p.294. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 45 the revising chambers of the separate colonies, by being more in touch with popular sentiment. To which Higgins riposted: ‘Why is a state house particularly fit to be a revising chamber?’48 As has been shown Higgins doubted the need for an upper house and he then brought the verbal jousting to a close with the remark that heads this chapter: that ‘Federation is not a question of text books’. This he immediately followed up with a remarkable speech citing a plethora of textbooks, perhaps to demonstrate that he, at least, was as well read as anyone else.49 An American academic and political scientist, John William Burgess (1844–1931) was drawn on by some delegates, including Baker, Symon, Isaacs and Glynn. His works were not in Baker’s list but his Political Science and Constitutional Law and Sovereignty and Liberty were both mentioned by name. Glynn and Isaacs were familiar with his works and quoted him to support their arguments on Constitutional amendments. Burgess was the author of several works on constitutional and political subjects, and was a respected authority in these matters.50 Dobson, in an anecdotal and rather obscure argument about democracy, brought in Ralph Waldo Emerson (1803-1882) and Thomas Carlyle (1795-1881). His remarks had little to do with the works of either of these writers but revealed that Dobson himself was hostile to the idea of democracy. 51 Words of wisdom were also drawn from United States politicians; Woodrow Wilson’s work Congressional Government for example.52 This summary of authorities referred to by the delegates shows that at least some of them had read widely on the subject of federation, most often in relation to the American experience. Baker’s manual was probably well perused and his list of recommendations would have provided a valuable guide to the other delegates. Isaacs, Higgins, and Glynn were the most frequent users of quotations and their 48 Ibid., p.326. 49 Ibid., p.346. 50 Ibid., 9 February 1898, p.719. 51 Ibid., 23 February 1898, p.1404. 52 Wilson was an American politician and lawyer who went on to become, in 1912, the 27th President of the United States. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 46 range of authors was wide. Baker and Deakin also used quotations frequently and joined in discussions on the views of various authorities to validate their arguments or to confound those of other delegates. There is evidence in the records that the quoting of authorities was not always well received. Downer, for example, mocked Higgins and his reliance on James Bryce: ‘I have the greatest respect for Mr. Higgins, and I humbly follow Mr. Bryce when Mr. Bryce happens to agree with my own views’. This comment conveys a hostile attitude on the part of Downer to the use of authorities by delegates to make a point. He may have considered that the delegates should be more independent in their views rather than ‘humbly’ following the dictates of ‘authorities’ such as Bryce, however well regarded. He followed this up later in a tart response to an interjection from Barton when he said ‘I am simply dealing in a spirit of humility with Mr. Higgins and his authority, Mr. Bryce’.53 Higgins, a frequent user of quotations, was also the least tolerant of others’ use of authorities. His cantankerous remark about text books came during an argument with Symons which seemed to be about who could demonstrate a more learned approach. Clearly Downer was not impressed with Bryce. 54 The exchange ended with this closing remark from Higgins: ‘there has been no attempt to justify this equal representation, except by reading from text writers a sort of loose statement as to the American system as matters of fact’.55 53 OR, 29 March 1897, p.209. 54 Ibid., 10 September 1897, p.349. 55 Ibid. Clearly Higgins was also becoming impatient with the constant parading of authorities, though he himself quoted frequently even ostentatiously from several sources, but perhaps he could perceive that opinion was mostly against him on this point. Symon, also a frequent user of quotations, provided another illustration of impatience with authorities and expressed the feelings of some delegates on the matter when he prefaced a speech with: ‘I do not propose to deal with the matter academically for more than one single moment’ and then, after making his point Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 47 ‘this is the only academical quotation with which I shall trouble hon. members’.56 There were others who showed a reluctance to quote from authorities and apologised to delegates for doing so. Wise, for example, when he quoted from Story prefaced his speech with: ‘I am very unwilling indeed to quote authorities, but so many authorities have been already quoted that I cannot help referring to a quotation from Mr. Justice Story’.57 The first authority to consider is Richard Baker, the only Australian authority referred to by the delegates, apart from the brief mention of Garran. The works cited were the manual he provided for the instruction of the delegates in 1891 and Authorities seem to have been used to bolster the views of the speakers with credibility as well as a perception of learning, but adverse comments about quotations reflected a disinclination on the part of some of the assembled delegates to accept such counsel and a sense that authorities had been overused. Wise’s professed unwillingness to cite authorities suggested a degree of self- sufficiency in his mind and the minds of other delegates who considered that Federation was a test of self-reliance and independence and resented the foisting of the views of outsiders into the debates. Wise and others may also have found some of the quotations superfluous, or irrelevant, or time wasting, especially, for example, in the extended exchange between Symon and Higgins. The next section will examine the topics and arguments delegates drew from their reading and how they may have been influenced by them, with a focus on the question of an upper house. There were four major issues on which authorities were called upon to support opposing arguments in the debates involving the Senate and its role: the methods of electing senators; equal representation of the States; the power of the Senate in regard to money bills; and whether the Cabinet system of responsible government or the American system of divorcing the Ministry from the legislature was the most appropriate. 56 Ibid., p.291-2. 57 Ibid., p.326. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 48 the later manual on the executive in a Federation. James Munro acknowledged Baker’s contribution early in the 1891 Convention: We have come here to frame a constitution, and the instructions that were given to us, I am happy to say, are very clearly laid down by the hon. member, Mr. Baker, in the book which he was good enough to distribute amongst us.58 In 1897 Bernhard Wise described it as a ‘book to which frequent reference has been made’. 59 in a pamphlet issued by Sir Richard Baker, … he points out that the essence of Federation is that a citizen has got two citizenships—he is a citizen of the Federation for federal purposes, and a citizen of the State for State purposes. Higgins called upon his views most frequently, quoting him on three occasions in 1897, all from the pamphlet. He was particularly taken by Baker’s idea of dual citizenship: 60 There must be a dual citizenship. In a Federation the people are citizens of two different nationalities, if I may so express myself. They are citizens of the States and also of the Federation. Both the States and the Federal Governments act directly on them. In the particular form of union, which in contradistinction to Federation is called Confederation, the government of the central body acts upon the States as States, and not upon the individual citizens of the States as citizens of the central Government. Deakin also used Baker’s concept of dual citizenship and repeated a quotation, used by Higgins only a few days earlier, to support the view that you cannot have responsible Government in a federation: 61 58 Ibid., 5 March 1891, p.46. 59 Ibid., 1 March 1898, p.1687. 60 Ibid., 24 March 1897, p.97. 61 Ibid., 30 March 1897, p.286. The quotations were used in the discussion on whether the two houses should have equal powers or that the power to initiate and amend money bills should be the sole prerogative of the lower house, the basis of responsible government. It was Baker’s strongly held view that responsible Government, or the Cabinet system, was incompatible with Federation: Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 49 I do not say that we cannot form a workable government with the executive form of cabinet; but I do say that you cannot form a workable federal government, that the machine will not work in the manner intended—at all events, it will not work in the manner I intend, it will not work in the manner the people in the smaller states intend—it will result in an amalgamation instead of a federation.62 Although Baker was influential, it was Bryce who was most frequently quoted and referred to during the debates. His name was invoked on no less than 45 occasions, mostly in 1897, and by many delegates. Of course many references were only slight and not necessarily quotations or citations of his work in support of an opinion. Nevertheless, these figures suggest that he was widely read, even by those who made no reference to his work, and it can be speculated that the actual references would reflect only some of the ideas the delegates drew from him. One delegate commented ‘I dare say hon[ourable] gentlemen have nearly all of them very carefully read the admirable work of Mr. Bryce’. Although he pursued his ideal energetically, Baker signally failed to persuade the Conventions to abandon the principle of a traditional Cabinet system on the Westminster model, a system then in place in all Australian Colonial Parliaments. Nevertheless, Baker would have had a strong personal influence on the thinking of the delegates as a respected parliamentarian; he was elected Chairman of Committees in the 1897–8 Convention. He made his views well known during the debates and through his publications, but tradition and sentiment underpinned by the effect of path dependency, won the day, together with a perception that two houses with equal powers could lead to serious conflict. The familiar and comfortable system of responsible Government as practised in Westminster and the colonial parliaments was adopted for the federal sphere. 63 Deakin referred to Bryce most frequently and, as mentioned earlier, it was he who strongly recommended Bryce’s The American Commonwealth to the delegates at the 1890 Conference.64 62 Ibid., 17 September 1897, p.785. 63 Ibid., Rutledge, 9 March 1891, p.147. 64 Ibid., 10 February 1890, p.25. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 50 Deakin also held a long correspondence with Bryce on aspects of Australia’s Federation.65 Bryce’s work on the American Constitution was used as an authority and guide for the framing of a new Australian Constitution in the Australian Convention debates. This illustrates the close links between the three countries and their governance and clearly demonstrates the evolution of the Australian Constitution from the two major models of the United States and the British. It is apparent from the first comment on Bryce by Deakin that he was greatly admired and respected as a scholar. His work is a comprehensive coverage of all aspects of the United States Constitution and La Nauze has gone so far as to suggest that because of the influence of Bryce’s work on the ideas of the delegates, he could be counted as one of the ‘fathers’ of the Australian Constitution. 66 Deakin first quoted Bryce early in 1890, recommending Bryce’s work to the other delegates and then extolling the United States system as described by Bryce. Quoting extensively he commended the ‘sovereign authority’ and complete independence of the United States Federal Government from the State Governments and discussed the merits of referendums and General Elections. In this he drew attention to the Canadian and Swiss systems with the conclusion, To indicate the progress in thinking from the early days of the 1890 Conference to the final days of the 1898 Convention, the use of authorities in the separate meetings will now be addressed in chronological order. Only three authorities were cited in 1890: Bryce, Freeman and Goldwin Smith. These references were probably a spur to delegates at the later Conventions to study other works on federation. As discussed in the Introduction, the 1890 Conference was set up to consider how to proceed to Federation and it recommended the subsequent formal convention of 1891. Discussion at the conference was on a more general level than subsequently and although delegates aired their views on various aspects of the Federation proposal, they were there mainly to map out the way forward. 65 Papers of Alfred Deakin, NLA, MS 1540. Also available in NLA Digital Collections website. ‘Manuscripts, NLA’. 66 J.A. La Nauze, 'Who Are the Fathers?’ Historical Studies, Vol.13, No.51, October, (1968). Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 51 drawn from Goldwin Smith, the Canadian constitutional writer, that the Canadian Government was deficient in not having the benefit of a referendum provision in their Constitution. The idea of a referendum was drawn from the Swiss and Canadian experiences substantiated by Bryce and Smith to support the view that it should be included in the Australian Constitution.67 Clark brought Freeman into the discussion to suggest there was a sentimental strand in the Federation proposal. ‘After all, sentiment is the basis of more than one-half of human life’. This remark was based on an article by Freeman discussing the practical and the sentimental in politics. 68 Clark used this argument to support his own view that Australia should not adopt the Westminster system of responsible government but adopt the American system of divorcing the executive from the legislature in these words: ‘that what had been in the early stages of every political question derided and ridiculed as its sentimental aspect afterwards proved to be its real practical aspect’.69 The 1890 Conference closed with agreement on a series of Resolutions to be considered by the forthcoming Convention which opened in 1891. It began with a preliminary discussion on the principles of Federation and gave the delegates a chance to air their views on a multitude of issues before settling down to seriously consider the Resolutions. In the preliminary discussions Baker made an extraordinary speech calling on such authorities as Woodrow Wilson, Bagehot and Bryce to support his fervent argument against a Westminster style responsible government. ‘I think I shall show that all powers shall be concentrated in one branch of the legislature, in which the majority, and the majority only, shall rule’. Here he saw the adoption of the American system as the ‘sentimental’ proposal but which would ultimately be found to be the ‘practical‘ system. The discussion of the ‘sentimental’ against the ‘practical’ aspects is another view of the emotional and path dependence influences bearing on the delegates’ decisions, though argued in a more complex and cerebral manner. 70 67 OR, 13 February 1890, pp.25, 26, 95, 96, 98. 68 E.A. Freeman, ‘Sentimental and Practical Politics’, Princeton Review 1, 1879. pp.312-344. 69 OR, 11 February 1890, p.35. 70 Ibid., 1 April 1891, p.543. But the main authorities referred to in 1891 were: Bryce(6) Goldwin Smith(3), Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 52 Dicey(3), Freeman(1), Bagehot(1) and Bourinot(1). Bryce was the dominant authority and was quoted by Deakin, Rutledge, James Lee-Steere, Nicholas Brown, and Charles Kingston, on various topics, including the powers of the proposed two houses, the method of selecting Senators, and how to deal with possible deadlocks. Deakin used him to support his views on the powers of the proposed upper house compared with the American reality, saying ‘If we endow them with an absolute veto, we must mean them to exercise it’.71 Deakin and Baker both cited him to support opposite views on the question of equal powers for the two houses and Lee-Steere used Bryce to support the same argument, quoting him as saying there had never been any serious deadlock between the houses in the United States: ‘How are the rights of the smaller colonies to be safely guarded unless the senate we are about to establish is to have rights co-ordinate with those of the lower house?’72 Co-ordinate was the term used to describe equal powers of the two houses.73 Rutledge made a thoughtful speech using Bryce’s words on the difference between European upper houses and the United States Senate. In particular he drew the comparison that European upper houses were divided on the lines of wealth and power, while the proposed Australian upper house should be more in the shape of the American Senate.74 71 Ibid., 5 March 1891, p.78. 72 Ibid., 1 April 1891, pp.543-4. 73 Oxford English Dictionary says: 1. Of the same order; equal in rank, degree, or importance (with); opposed to subordinate 74 OR, 9 March 1891, p.147. This did not add much to the discussion except to demonstrate that Rutledge had read Bryce and suggested he supported an American model of federation. Bryce had written extensively and comprehensively on the issue of equal powers, which focused mainly on whether the Senate should have the power to initiate, amend or reject money bills. This was a major topic and hurdle for the Conventions and was argued fiercely, the smaller States calling for equal powers for both houses, and the larger states resisting and calling for a more powerful lower house. This issue also impinged on the issue of a cabinet system of Government—the system eventually adopted. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 53 Bryce’s views on upper houses were canvassed again by Deakin on the method of selecting senators. Opinion was divided over whether nomination or election was the best method. As several of the Colonies appointed their upper houses there was strong support for the nomination principle in 1891. Barton, a supporter of the election of senators, drew Goldwin Smith into the discussion. Smith had called nomination a ‘barefaced proposal’ and Barton warned the Convention that: If you resolve to accept the Constitution of the United States Senate for our federal constitution you will find it to be an almost absolute necessity of the case that all your second chambers in your individual states shall be elective.75 the institution of responsible government, notwithstanding the carping, and sneering, and adverse criticisms to which it has been subjected from time to time has, on the whole, worked fairly well. His argument, somewhat difficult to follow, suggests that under the nomination principle senators would be chosen by State Councillors, some themselves nominated. This, he thought, would make it necessary to have elective upper houses in the States to avoid too much power going into the hands of an unelected minority. Brown introduced Bryce in a discussion of responsible government as understood in the Australian colonies and about which there was considerable conflict: 76 Thynne brought in Dicey to support his views on Federation and focused on the necessity for an ‘immutable Constitution … or at any rate one that could only be changed by some authority above and beyond the ordinary legislative bodies’. This was an early argument, not here clearly articulated, for a referendum. He also quoted Dicey to argue that the laws of the states should be subordinate to the laws of the Commonwealth. 77 75 Ibid., 6 March 1891, p.92. 76 Ibid., 10 March 1891, p.210. 77 Ibid., 6 March 1891, pp.105-6. Baker supported this argument by quoting Goldwin Smith and suggesting that the Canadian system of a central Government with more power than the States, or in Canada’s case the Provinces, was disruptive and should not be adopted: Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 54 each province of the Dominion of Canada is constantly trying to get the better of its neighbours, trying to obtain more from the federal government; and I am afraid that the authors of the Canadian federation, in mixing up federal finance with provincial finance have laid the seeds of the dissolution of that union.78 It was left to Clark to introduce the other big gun among the authorities, Freeman, who only appeared once in 1891. Clark invoked Freeman to suggest that to structure a sound Federation they must ‘depart from the beaten track’. This was in response to an argument from Duncan Gillies who recommended following the path of experience. 79 The ‘path of experience’ is precisely how the modern concept of path dependence is used in a social science context. Elements of a strong path dependency influence are evident here when Gillies was confronted with the sustained, if ultimately unsuccessful, resistance by Clark. The major arguments using Bryce’s work in 1891 were on the questions of the relative powers of the two houses, how to deal with deadlocks and the method of the selection of senators. Bryce favoured the election principle, not then in practice in the United States, and his authority was used by Kingston to support this view: ‘… bad candidates will have less chance with the party at large and the people than they now have …’80 The Canadian example was also cited by Downer quoting from Bourinot and introducing the question of conventions, and their place in government. Conventions, or unwritten rules, were at the heart of the Westminster tradition.81 As in 1890 the major points of conflict in 1891 emerged as: equality of representation in the Senate; responsible Government; election of senators; and the relative powers of the two houses. These issues were contentious throughout the conventions and were eventually settled only in 1898 when the final version of the Constitution Bill was produced. It can be seen that the authorities, particularly Bryce, were very influential in shaping the ideas of the delegates in these matters, both those who quoted them and those who listened to the arguments. The 78 Ibid., p.110. 79 Ibid., 11 March 1891, p.231. 80 Ibid., 2 April 1891, p.596. 81 Ibid., 3 April 1891, p.715. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 55 quotations from the Canadian writers illustrate that the Canadian influence and example were well considered, though not usually in a positive light. As noted the delegates to the 1897 Convention were elected by the Colonies on a manhood suffrage, not nominated by the Parliaments as in the previous meetings, though many of the same delegates attended. They were now more prone to quote from authorities, presumably having done their homework. Isaac Isaacs was perhaps the best read of the delegates and one of the ablest and best informed members of the convention but his pedantic excesses irritated colleagues especially Barton, the Convention leader.82 Among other works Isaacs had read all five volumes of Elliot’s Debates on the United States Conventions which would have given him a sound basis for his opinions on the United States Constitution.83 The delegates were also more conscious of their responsibility now they were in the final stages of the process of drafting a Constitution. Growing attendant publicity reflected the increasing gravity of their discussions and they turned to recognised authorities to strengthen the case for their decisions. The propensity to quote learned authorities at this stage sprang from a need to provide guidance to their colleagues and the public and add legitimacy to their arguments. It was a demonstration of erudition and scholarship which gave their comments added authority. The last Convention was a long drawn out affair, spread over three sessions. Queensland failed to send delegates to this Convention due to difficulties with its Parliament, but Samuel Griffith, the Queensland Attorney-General, kept in touch with the proceedings. Griffith had been a key player in the drawing up of the Bill of 1891 and E.M. Hunt, an American historian writing in the 1930s, describes him as ‘one of the leading authorities on the American Constitution’.84 82 Geoffrey Sawer, The Australian Constitution, (Canberra: Australian Government Publishing Service), 1975), p.22. 83 Zelman Cowen, Isaac Isaacs, (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1967), p.56; Jonathon Elliot, The Debates in the Several State Conventions on the Adoption of the Federal Constitution as Recommended by the General Convention at Philadelphia in 1787, 5 vols., (New York: Burt Franklin, 1787). 84 E.M. Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, (New York: Columbia University Press; London P. S. King, Ltd., 1930), p.19. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 56 Twenty-one authorities were quoted in the 1897–8 Convention. Their comments were not all in reference to the Senate, and here I will focus only on arguments concerning the structure and role of the proposed upper house. Again most of the debates were concerned with the four great questions: equality of representation in the Senate; election of Senators; the relative powers of the two houses; and responsible Government, plus the provision for deadlocks, a difficult and complex problem which occupied many days of debate. Bryce again dominated the references, being cited 23 times and by 11 delegates.85 In 1897 Bryce’s authority was called upon on a range of issues which reflects the thoroughness of his work. Higgins brought him in first in a long speech in the general discussion before the Convention got down to the real business of considering the Clauses of the Draft Bill in detail. He quoted Bryce on the election of senators, the powers of the central Government, responsible Government and the question of the equal number of senators for each state. The other most frequently quoted writer was Freeman with 15 mentions. The work of these two writers and the guidance of Baker’s manual provided a framework for the debates on the decisions facing the delegates. The less frequently quoted writers also added more food for thought and strength to their arguments, though some delegates found the introduction of authorities to be a tiresome and unnecessary intrusion. The views of Bryce and Freeman on the election of senators and equal representation were adopted but Baker’s passionate support for the American model was not enough to convince the delegates. It is ironic that for all the guidance his readings must have provided to the delegates, his opinions did not prevail. 86 85 The delegates were: Higgins, Downer, Fysh, Deakin, Glynn, Barton, Kingston, Dobson, Isaacs, Symon, and Forrest. 86 OR, 25 March 1897, pp.98-101. Downer also brought in Bryce on the election of senators, arguing with Higgins’ interpretation and said he had come to ‘an absolutely different conclusion’ from Higgins. Downer had earlier expressed his dislike of placing too much reliance on the words of learned authorities and seemed to particularly resent the reliance on Bryce. It also comes Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 57 down to a matter of interpretation and his claim that he had come to an ‘absolutely different conclusion’ to Higgins, demonstrated the danger in attributing too much influence to learned authorities. In the end the decisions had to be made on the facts and the circumstances. Downer did admit that he had changed his views over time and now, in 1897, supported the election of senators against nomination so the debates and discussions had some influence on the voting patterns in the divisions.87 Kingston also cited Bryce on the issue of the election of senators and apprised the Convention that he had been in correspondence with Bryce on the topic. He had, he said, sent Bryce a copy of the draft Bill, asking for comments upon it. He reported that Bryce had replied favourably saying he was pleased ‘to express his most delighted approval’.88 This conflicts with Bryce’s comments in a letter he wrote to Barton in 1900 when the delegates were in London to negotiate the passing of the Bill and in which he described it as a ‘very scanty, fragmentary, and imperfect sketch of a Federal Constitution’.89 The issue of responsible government saw Bryce again brought in to support arguments. Fysh, in a speech supporting the concept, referred to Bryce and said he had come to the conclusion that if responsible government had been the case in England at the time of the American Conventions then the Americans probably would have adopted it. 90 Deakin contributed an unusual remedy for disputed legislation, drawn, he said, from both Bryce and Bourinot. He proposed that there should be a provision for legislation passed by both Houses to be open to challenge by the Senate representatives of any State and the opinion of the Supreme Court sought; the operation of the legislation to be suspended until a decision was made. ‘Oh that would never do’ interjected an unidentified Hon. Member at this suggestion, which, unsurprisingly, did not get anywhere.91 87 Ibid., 29 March 1897, p.209. 88 Bryce, quoted by Kingston, OR, 10 September 1897, p.288. 89 Cited in Geoffrey Bolton, Edmund Barton: The One Man for the Job, (St. Leonards, Australia: Allen & Unwin, 2000), pp.209-10. 90 OR, 29 March 1897, p.243 91 Ibid., 14 April 1897, p.582. The issue of deadlocks, together with equal powers for both houses were raised by Glynn and Dobson, and the reading of Bryce convinced them and Deakin that the Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 58 powers of the houses should be co-ordinate.92 Higgins was strongly against equal representation in the Senate and argued, citing Bryce, that equal representation had been ‘futile’ in its objectives because there had never been any difference of interests between the larger and smaller states in the United States. Glynn also used Bryce on the same point to refute Higgins’ argument and support the case for equal representation. This was also Clark’s firmly held view, but they were in the minority. 93 This echoes the debates of 1891 when Deakin and Baker both cited Bryce to support opposite views on the question of equal powers for the two houses, and Lee-Steere used Bryce to argue for equal representation quoting him as saying there had never been any serious deadlock between the houses in the United States. To put this into perspective Bryce’s words were ‘There had never, in point of fact, been any division of interests or consequent contest between the great States and the small ones’.94 Yet in the September Convention Isaacs quoted Bryce as saying that frequent collisions did happen in the US, though ‘no great block occurs’.95 Bryce’s wisdom was brought in on other issues as well as the Senate’s role, the debate on taking grievances to the Privy Council for example, on 31 January 1898. Glynn also quoted him on the question of the Senate’s power to amend money bills, and to argue against co-ordinate powers. He suggested that it had been known for the lower houses of some parliaments to send doubtful but popular bills to the upper house in the hope that the upper house would amend and return them. These comments were made in the argument about responsible government and the fear that co-ordinate powers would bring about deadlocks. Glynn quoted This is an indication that interpretation has a significant bearing on the use of authorities to support or counter arguments. 92 Ibid., 15 September 1897, pp.584, 637. 93 Ibid., 15 April 1897, pp.646, 665. 94 Bryce, The American Commonwealth, p.129. 95 OR, 16 September 1897, p.663. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 59 Bryce as saying ‘you cannot possibly have co-ordinate powers wherever there is responsibility’.96 During a discussion on money bills Dobson again showed off his scholarship quoting from several authorities, ‘I am told, … by Bryce, by Leeky [sic], by Sedgwick, and every writer that I have read, that democracy is on its trial’. He used these writers to support his opposition to any provisions against deadlocks and quoted McMillan as saying that the only check on the ‘tyranny’ of the lower house is the second chamber, and that manhood suffrage may be the ‘basis of a tyranny’. 97 Forrest: No these are words which I used myself. Dobson firmly believed that democracy would lead to the ‘tyranny’ of the majority and the end of law and order. As two of these authors were rarely quoted and Dobson’s views were notoriously conservative, cautious and resistant to change, the influence of this speech was probably not very great. The respect and familiarity and even affection with which Bryce was regarded is revealed in an amusing exchange when Forrest, rather pompously, began a speech on the relative powers of the State and Federal Governments. George Reid interrupted saying: ‘Is that in Bryce?’ Reid: They sound exactly like Bryce. Forrest: The words are my own. Reid: Bryce's book was not published then, but the style is the same. Holder: Perhaps Mr. Bryce copied Sir John Forrest.98 96 Ibid., 14 September 1897, p.536. 97 Ibid., 15 September 1897, p.637. 98 Ibid., 1 March 1898, p.1703 Some of the restlessness of the delegates can be seen in this light-hearted exchange. They were now in the sixth month, spread over a year, of their deliberations, and with the end clearly in sight, more lengthy, repetitive arguments and personal parading of pomposity, could not be readily tolerated. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 60 These were the more significant references to Bryce’s work in the 1897–8 debates. It can be seen how much he was relied upon for clarification and understanding of many aspects of federalism and especially so in regard to the Senate. The other major authority on whom the delegates relied heavily was Freeman. In 1897 he was quoted or referred to many times, principally by Glynn, Isaacs, Symon, Cockburn, and Fysh. He entered the 1897 debate, introduced by Glynn, in the general discussion before the debate proper began. Glynn was discussing the Constitution of Canada, which he described as ‘more of the old and gradually becoming obsolete form of monarchical government’ whereas Australia would be a ‘crowned republic’.99 Freeman reappeared when Isaacs quoted him in praise of the English Constitution, which had grown from ‘original principles’.100 Glynn reintroduced Freeman to support the provision for equal numbers of senators for each State, a principle valiantly but vainly fought against by Higgins. Glynn quoted Freeman and his description of ancient Greek States which followed this principle. Here we can see not only Freeman’s influence but also the influence of Canada’s experience, British tradition, the conflict between tradition and innovation, and the sentimental and the practical. 101 Symon followed him with a series of quotations from Freeman to support the concept of equal representation, refuting Higgins’ vociferous and passionate arguments for proportional representation and observed: ‘that principle of state equality was established centuries before the United States Constitution was ever dreamt of’.102 Symon’s speech led him into a lively discussion on ancient civilisations including the Achean Assembly, an early example of federation. This provoked Higgins to interject testily ‘It was merely a league’ to which Symon riposted saying that Higgins did not know what he was talking about and that ‘we are all capable of 99 Ibid., 24 March 1897, p.73. 100 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.180. 101 Ibid., 15 April 1897, p.663-4. 102 Ibid., 10 September 1897, p.292. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 61 enlightenment’.103 A lively debate ensued with Symon pontificating upon ancient Greek civilisations and Higgins, Carruthers and Deakin interjecting witty remarks about ‘a flood of democracy’. Symon continued on his Freeman theme on equal representation and brought in Story’s work on the United States Constitution to further strengthen his arguments, the gist of which was that the United States Constitution was an excellent model.104 Other authorities cited in the 1897–8 Convention, mostly on issues other than the structure and role of the Senate, were Dicey and Lecky, already mentioned, Bourinot mainly in relation to legal matters and the right of appeal to the Privy Council. Isaacs did bring Bourinot in to emphasise that the ‘want of a cabinet system was one of the disadvantages of the United States Government’, an argument for responsible government which impinged on the powers of the Senate. Sidgwick was also referred to in this speech as finding a co-ordinate second chamber an alien element in Parliamentary Government. Isaacs entered the lists with Freeman on the same day and issue, in support of equal representation in the Senate. It is clear that Freeman’s work on early Greek constitutions was extensively used to support the case in the Conventions for equal representation in the Senate. 105 I am urging … that to call in the electorate as a whole to determine that kind of dispute … is undesirable, … and I will adopt the words of Bagehot, who says that to do so would be to submit to the government: ‘Of immoderate persons far from the scene of action’. Sidgwick did not appear frequently being cited only by Isaacs, a very well read delegate. He was quoted on how to deal with deadlocks, as in favour of referendums, perceiving the upper house as check on the lower House, and supporting the concept of federation. Dicey appeared more frequently, quoted by Isaacs, Cockburn and Wise, in relation to interpretation of the Constitution and the relative powers of the Federal and State governments. Bagehot made a brief appearance when Wise quoted him on referendums saying: 106 103 Ibid., p.294-5. 104 Ibid., 10 September 1897, p.294-5. 105 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.175. 106 Ibid., 10 March 1898, p.2195. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 62 Bagehot clearly feared the tyranny of the majority.107 Story was another legal authority also called upon to substantiate arguments about equal representation in the Senate. His authority was sought on the necessity to constitute the Parliament as two houses, one representing the people and one the States. In this debate he was quoted frequently along with other authorities and it was here that Higgins was driven to his acerbic comment that ‘Federation is not a matter of textbooks’. 108 It can be clearly seen that the learned authorities were important though not all- important, in shaping the system that was ultimately adopted. Their most valuable contribution was to provide a platform and starting point for debate on complex issues, such as the basic conflict of whether to follow the United States example or the Westminster system of Government. Many delegates had studied the subject of federalism carefully from the authorities and, using their past parliamentary experience and by taking part in the debates, were able to draw their own conclusions from their readings. The most vociferous were for the most part well read on the relevant issues and had formulated their ideas from a variety of sources, strongly supported by recognised writers on the several aspects of federalism. The role of learned authorities, though resented by some delegates, The debate on the role of the Senate was heated and several authorities made a brief appearance: Burke, Lecky, Mill, Franklin, Burgess, Emerson, Carlyle, and May. The points raised included the power to amend money bills for the Senate, the question of whether referendums should be incorporated in the Constitution, the problem of deadlock provisions, the role of the Senate as a check on the lower house, and Constitutional amendments. May appeared in March 1898 cited by Baker and Barton on points of procedure. Todd made a late appearance entering the discussion on 10 March 1898 introduced by Deakin. He was quoted on the role of the Governor-General in military matters, and the question of whether the right of appeal to the British Privy Council should be abolished. 107 For discussion of Bagehot see Norman St John-Stevas, Walter Bagehot, (London: Longmans, Green, 1963): Harry R. Sullivan, Walter Bagehot, (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1975). 108 OR, 10 September 1897, p.348. Chapter 2: On Whose Authority 63 was a useful tool to justify or counter arguments and interpretation was a significant factor in the use of these works. By 1897–8 attitudes and opinions had matured and though the authorities were respected they were not necessarily influential in changing or creating viewpoints. The authorities helped to provide a framework for the debates and their views became more important as the issues came to a head. The increasing use of authorities is instructive, revealing a contradiction between Federation as an expression of independence and the reliance on learned authorities to validate opinions and decisions. This is no cause for criticism. In doing so they were not unlike the men who devised the Constitution of the United States or those who wrote the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen for France.109 109 Declaration of the Rights of Man – 1789, Approved by the National Assembly of France, August 26 1789, Yale Law School, The Avalon Project, They too had relied on models such as those from classical Greek and Roman examples and consulted learned authorities such as Montesquieu and Aristotle. http://avalon.law.yale.edu/18th_century/rightsof.asp. Accessed 28 November 2008. http://avalon.law.yale.edu/18th_century/rightsof.asp� Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 64 Chapter 3 In Their Own Image: did the delegates to the Conventions see themselves as models of an ideal senator? the most august assembly.1 The memorable Convention met in Sydney on March 2, 1891. I call it ‘memorable’ because it was beyond all dispute the most august assembly which Australia had ever seen, and because the majority of its members were men who yielded to none of their compatriots in their fitness to do the work which had to be done. If we apply the democratic rule, and apply it strictly, these men had all risen to positions of eminence in their respective countries—some to the highest positions—by their own merits and force of character, without any of the aids of fortune; and their number included all the Prime Ministers of Australia, and nine others, including Sir George Grey, Duncan Gillies, and Sir Thomas McIlwraith, who had held the office of Prime Minister in former Governments. They had been elected by all the Parliaments of the colonies, and, therefore, in a constitutional sense, they represented all the people of Australia. Henry Parkes 1891. This telling phrase by Henry Parkes and typical of his lofty rhetoric was his proud view of the delegates, which of course included himself, assembled for the 1891 National Australasian Convention in Sydney. Parkes, a distinguished New South Wales politician and a recognised leader of the cause of Federation, thought highly of his colleagues, and the whole paragraph containing the quotation above is included here as an indication of the sort of men Parkes saw as members of the 1891 Convention: 2 Parkes’ words provide a participant’s view of the delegates as fitting representatives of the Australian people and within it can be discerned a vision of the character of a future Senator from a leading observer. Some of the delegates in (my emphasis) 1 Henry Parkes, Fifty Years in the Making of Australian History, (London: Longman and Green, 1892), Chap. XIII. p.366. 2 Ibid. Emphasis added. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 65 1891 were indeed ‘august’ in the literal sense of the word. Nine had been knighted, including such Federation luminaries as Samuel Griffith, then Premier of Queensland, Parkes himself, and both the New Zealand delegates, Harry Albert Atkinson and George Grey. There were other opinions on the character of the assembly of 1891 that were not so glowing: Brisbane’s Courier for example reported that it was ‘a Convention necessarily including so many second-rate politicians’. 3 Both Parkes and the Courier had a point. It was a mixed bag of first and second rate politicians, but not as mixed as all that given that only one delegate, James Walker, a banker, had never served as a politician before becoming a delegate to the 1897 Convention. His activities as a member of the Australasian Federal League of New South Wales and his lucid financial analysis of federation at the Bathurst Convention in November 1896, were factors in his election as a delegate.4 If, … we patiently address ourselves to our task, then I think not only will our work endure, and our names be handed down with respect to the third and the fourth generations, but millions yet unborn will be taught to revere for all time the names of those who, in this year 1897, were assembled in this National Convention. Parkes’ stress on the memorable aspect of the 1891 Convention was due, he claimed, to the character of the delegates. The Convention was indeed memorable, as was the later Convention of 1897–8, but more because of its achievements than its participants. In fact, the Conventions and their participants are only vaguely remembered by the citizens of Australia. There are no glorious commemoration ceremonies, only a few monuments to their achievements, such as the plaque on the outside wall of South Australia’s parliament to commemorate the meeting there in 1897, and in 2001 only a low-key centenary celebration of Federation. This is ironic in view of this remark of John Alexander Cockburn: 5 3 Brisbane Courier quoted in SMH 20 March 1891. 4 Brian Galligan and James Warden, 'The Design of the Senate', in The Convention Debates 1891 - 1898, ed. Gregory Craven, (Sydney: Legal Books Ltd, 1986), p.91. Kathleen Dermody, ‘Walker, James Thomas, (1841-1923)’, in The Biographical Dictionary of the Australian Senate, v.1. 1901-1929, (Melbourne, Melbourne University Press), p.35. Geoffrey Bolton, Edmund Barton: the One Man for the Job, (St. Leonards, Australia: Allen & Unwin, 2000), p.140. 5 OR, 30 March 1897, p.349. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 66 That the delegates were all industrious, successful citizens who had achieved ‘eminence’ by their own efforts was true. None had inherited great wealth or position. Many were or had been elected leaders in their Colonies and had achieved recognition and status in their community. In this respect Parkes considered they fairly represented all the people of Australia. But did they? He based his judgement on the fact that the selected delegates were particularly fit to do the work because of their achievement of eminence. Most of them had achieved this through politics and, as he pointed out, several had been Prime Ministers. In this respect he could have been pleading his own case, as a man who had risen to prominence and a senior position in Government from a humble background. Parkes’ achievements were very real and he was proud of them and the men he commended were those whose achievements matched his own. His view supports the main argument of this chapter: that the Convention delegates saw the future ‘ideal senators’ as men just like themselves, men fashioned ‘in their own image’. Other writers have commented on the characteristics of the Convention delegates, notably Geoffrey McDonald.6 McDonald’s is an extensive and detailed collective biography of the eighty-four Australian delegates to both the 1891 and the 1897–8 Conventions. It is a work of prosopography—defined by Lawrence Stone as ‘an investigation of the common background characteristics of a historical group … by means of a collective study of their lives’.7 McDonald’s conclusion was that they were ‘active, enterprising, and colourful men who ambitiously strove after power’. Hunt, in another prosopographic discussion of the delegates, summed up saying that ‘many were excellently qualified for their role, and if others were not, the sum of individual experience was impressive’.8 6 G. McDonald, ‘The Eighty Founding Fathers’ Queensland Historical Review, 1968, pp.38-51. 7 Lawrence Stone, 'Prosopography', Daedalus 100, Winter 1971, 8 E.M. Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, (New York: Columbia University Press; London P. S. King, Ltd., 1930), p.16. Other historians were not so impressed. John Rickard described the delegates as ‘by and large, the old established political leaders of their colonies’ who saw themselves as there to safeguard the interests of their colonies rather than to stimulate new visions of Australia or find new Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 67 leaders to express them.9 Crisp argued ‘it was for the most part the big men of the established political and economic order, the men of property or their trusted allies, who moulded the federal Constitution Bill’ and La Nauze found that in 1891 some of the delegates knew little more about federalism than that it was a system of government, but added that this had improved by 1897.10 Newspaper comment was not flattering either: historian Frank Crowley found that some reporters said there was a danger that the proceedings would 'perish of much talking' and added that perhaps this was to be expected from such a gathering of ‘politicians who had this once-in-a-Iifetime opportunity to display their … principles, while also eloquently proclaiming their genuine desire to bring to an end colonial provincialism’. He quoted newspapers as saying ‘modesty was in short supply; vanity in abundance’.11 It was true that all the delegates had achieved distinction and personal prosperity by their own efforts. It was also true they had no monopoly on this achievement. Many distinguished and successful people from different backgrounds, who might have had the ‘fitness to do the work which had to be done’, were not present at the Conventions. Those missing included women, church representatives, the working class and even one of the Colonies—Queensland, which failed to send delegates to the 1897–8 Convention which actually drafted the final Constitution. Had Queensland been represented the Convention is likely to have voted to restore powers to the Senate fully equal in every respect to those of the House of The conclusion from these writers was that it was men of influence and prosperity who drafted the Constitution but that they were not particularly clever or well-informed. They were all experienced in Australian political life and this, together with the interests of their own colonies always in mind, were the major influences on their decisions. 9 John Rickard, H.B. Higgins: The Rebel as Judge, (Sydney: George Allen & Unwin, 1984), p.92. 10 L.F. Crisp, Australian National Government, (Hawthorn, Victoria: Longman, 1965), p.14. J.A. La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1972), p.272. 11 F.K. Crowley, Big John Forrest: 1847–1918: A Founding Father of the Commonwealth of Australia (Perth, University of Western Australia Press, 2000), p.173. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 68 Representatives, and it is doubtful whether the south eastern colonies would have accepted a federal Constitution of this kind.12 The fact that there were no female delegates reflected the attitudes and conventions of the era when women had yet to break down the many prejudices and barriers against them taking part in public life. South Australia had given women the vote in 1894 and one brave soul, writer and social activist, Catherine Helen Spence, at the advanced age of 72 years, stood for election to the 1897 Convention as a delegate for South Australia. She received 7,282 votes and came twenty-second out of thirty-three candidates. 13 Her failure to be elected reflects the attitudes of the times rather than her undoubted abilities. The closest women came to taking part in the Conventions was to be allowed to observe the delegates at a banquet for 900 male guests in the Centennial Hall in Sydney on 14 March 1891, preceding the Convention. One reporter patronisingly commented: ‘The galleries were crowded with ladies, who apparently took great interest in the proceedings’.14 Apart from the gender exclusion and Queensland’s absence in 1897–8, another section of society conspicuous by its absence was the Church. The Christian Church in the 1890s was a potent force in society as is evident in the 41 petitions to the 1897–8 Convention requesting recognition of the Christian religion in the Constitution. 15 It was duly recognised in the Preamble with the words ‘humbly relying on the blessings of Almighty God’, introduced by Patrick McMahon Glynn, an Irish born barrister and one of only two Catholics at the Convention.16 12 Space prevents a full exploration of these issues in a thesis focused on the Conventions. 13 Susan Magarey, Unbridling the Tongues of Women, (Marrickville, NSW: Hale & Iremonger, 1985), p.162. 14 Adelaide Observer, 23 March 1891. 15 The majority of the petitions were from Protestant churches such as Methodist, Presbyterian, Congregational, with only one from a Roman Catholic Church, that of South Australia, OR, ‘Index to Subjects’, Adelaide 1897. 16 OR, 2 March 1898, p.1732. The decision to open proceedings in Parliament with a prayer and the inclusion of God in the oath of allegiance are other acknowledgements of the religious or spiritual basis of Australian society but there was no official religious representation in the Conventions themselves. Catholic Archbishop Moran of Sydney did stand for Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 69 election to the 1897 Convention, much to the horror of some Protestant citizens who feared sectarian conflict, but he failed to gain a place, much to the relief of said citizens.17 Stafford Bird of Tasmania had been a dissenting minister before he became a politician and Deakin said of him that he was ‘as sound and sober in thought as he was solemnly impressive in appearance and manner’.18 The delegates were secular statesmen, and though most professed a religion, mainly the Protestant Christian faith, they were not officers of their churches.19 The other major distortion lay in the uneven socio-economic representation of society. The delegates were necessarily drawn from the more affluent and educated citizens because only those with sufficient finances and leisure could meet the demands of taking part in the proceedings. This meant the exclusion not only of the working class and smaller business men but also of more prosperous citizens who could not afford to dedicate the time and effort necessary to attend the Conventions. From today’s point of view the absence of the Labour party is a glaring exclusion, but Labour was still in its formative years in the 1890s. Although Labour candidates stood for election, especially in New South Wales where the party fielded ten candidates, only one Labour man, William Trenwith from Victoria, was elected and his views were more liberal than socialist. In spite of these exclusions Bernhard Wise considered the representation at the 1891 Convention to be an ‘accurate’ reflection of public opinion even though it was ‘not truly representative’. 20 17 G. McDonald, 'The Eighty Founding Fathers', p.49. 18 Alfred Deakin, 'and Be One People' with an Introduction by Stuart Macintyre, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1995), p.32. 19 For a comprehensive discussion of religion and the Conventions see Richard Ely, Unto God and Caesar: religious beliefs in the emerging Commonwealth, (Melbourne, Melbourne University Press, 1976). 20 Bernhard Ringrose Wise, The Making of the Australian Commonwealth, 1889-1900, (London: Longmans, Green, and Co., 1913), p.135. The decision that the delegates to the 1897 Convention should be elected by manhood suffrage with each State as one electorate, was the major inclusive factor in 1897, allowing most of the adult male members of Australian society a voice, but even this failed to change the social composition of the delegates to any significant degree. Though fifty-five per cent of the eligible voters Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 70 turned out, Davidson has argued that the ‘popular mandate … returned the old guard of 1891’ to the 1897 Convention.21 The major and unchallenged decision to establish a bicameral parliament had already been taken when the Conventions met, and came about in large part because the political socialisation of the founders in English and Australian parliamentary traditions ensured they ‘took legislative bicameralism for granted’. 22 John Rickard also saw political socialisation as the basis for the undebated decision. In his biography of Henry Higgins of Victoria, he argued that Higgins was typical of his colleagues who ‘had very fixed notions … which were the product of each colony’s history’. For Stuart Macintyre, the ‘new nation was at the mercy of its progenitors’.23 The bicameral system adopted under these influences includes as a central feature an ‘upper’ house and is found in many legislatures. American political scientists, Loewenberg and Patterson, in their book Comparing Legislatures, noted that the need for an upper house ‘originated in the essentially pre-democratic view that the representation of the nation required both an upper and lower house, in the class- conscious sense of “upper” and “lower”’. 24 In the concept of the proposed Senate as a house of review can be discerned the ‘class-conscious’ sense of the ‘upper house’ as noted by these authors, and the shadow of the British House of Lords in its ancient role as a representative of the aristocracy or ruling classes. In Australia it was envisaged at the Convention debates that the upper house would be a repository of dignity, justice and wisdom with members directly chosen, in the Constitution Bill of 1891, by the ‘Houses of Parliament of the several states’ and though this was changed in 1898 to the decision to elect senators by manhood suffrage, the perception of an ‘upper’ house as a superior body persisted.25 21 Alastair Davidson, The Invisible State: The Formation of the Australian State 1788 - 1901, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2002), p.233. 22 Galligan and Warden, 'The Design of the Senate', p.91. 23 John Rickard, H.B. Higgins: The Rebel as Judge, p.92; Deakin, 'and Be One People' with an Introduction by Stuart Macintyre, p.xx. 24 G. Loewenberg and S. C. Patterson, Comparing Legislatures, (Boston: Little and Brown, 1979), p.121. 25 Draft Constitution Bill 1891, Part II, The Senate, Section 9, p.946, OR, 2 March 1891. In the Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 71 1891 decision remained the shadow of aristocratic domination of Government, or of a privileged class, and it is reminiscent of the idea of creating a colonial aristocracy that had been canvassed in New South Wales in the 1850s (and in Canada in the 18th century) but which was never popular or practical. Nevertheless some of the traditions and perceptions of an upper house can be found in the notion that part of its role was to moderate or monitor the decisions, perceived as possibly rash, of the lower house. The role of the upper house as a house of review and a repository of wisdom was a concept firmly held by many delegates. John Forrest, Premier of Western Australia, articulated the perception of superiority in 1891: ‘It seems to me that the senate … will be an august and experienced body’.26 but how frequently do we know Governments and majorities that have been obliged to resist the action of the Second Chamber and are then faced with the difficulties of a deadlock and the inconvenience of a penal dissolution? The word ‘august’, was also used by Parkes, and is a clear sign of the ideas of the desired nobility of the upper house. The word ‘experienced’ suggests maturity, an appropriate quality for a Senator. Forrest did not say how this was to be achieved, but he was a supporter of a nominated Senate and like Parkes may have envisaged himself and men of his calibre as being role models for the new Senators. The decision that Senators should be elected by adult male suffrage was made early in the 1897-8 Convention and must have diluted this expectation. The vision of Senators being ‘dignified’ and ‘august’ and qualified to make fair and wise decisions on policies is a strange attitude of politicians, all of whom had experienced upper chambers and their obstructive and delaying tactics on policies with which they disagreed. Victoria had suffered much in this respect and Graham Berry, a one-time Premier, bitterly commented: 27 The reference to a ‘second’ rather than an ‘upper’ chamber speaks volumes. Berry spoke from experience. He could foresee the possibility of a federal version of Victoria's Black Wednesday of January 1878, when the Council stubbornly refused 26 OR, Forrest, 6 April 1891, p.732. 27 Ibid., 15 April 1897, p.658. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 72 supply for a finance bill and, as Premier, he had retaliated by dismissing 200 civil servants on economic grounds.28 The opposing view came from John Forrest, a delegate from Western Australia, a smaller state, which feared the domination of the larger states in Parliament. He argued strongly for a powerful Senate, able to reject and amend all proposed legislation except the annual appropriation bill. This included taxation, loans, customs and excise.29 I think the chief reason why this plan [election] has commended itself to many hon. members has been the result of the election of members of this Convention. They cannot but think that a system which worked so well and so wisely in returning such, able, true, and patriotic members to this Convention as they themselves are must be an excellent plan and one likely to work well in the future. I am quite prepared to admit that it has worked exceedingly well during the first election. This struck fear into the eastern politicians many of whom had ‘fought pitched constitutional battles’ with their upper houses over money bills. Why then did this naïve expectation of justice and wisdom in a federal upper chamber arise and why was it so steadfastly held by men who had experienced the difficulties an upper chamber could cause? Was it simply a matter of path dependence and tradition or did the delegates honestly envisage a Senate peopled by eminent and successful men such as themselves who could impartially employ these qualities from the depths of their knowledge and experience? There is some evidence that this was a ‘subliminal’ thought in the minds of the delegates. The thought emanated from the mouth of one of the delegates, Sir John Forrest (WA): 30 Were the delegates of such excellent quality as Forrest thought in 1897 and Parkes in 1891? To answer this question this chapter will take a closer look at the delegates as individuals. La Nauze said of the Conventions that ‘there is much yet to be recovered from the debates about the types, the assumptions and the abilities of the men who represented the public and parliamentary life of Australia’ 28 Paul de Serville, Pounds and Pedigrees: the Upper Class in Victoria 1850-80, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1991), p.116. 29 Crowley, Big John Forrest: 1847 - 1918: A Founding Father of the Commonwealth of Australia, p.176, 30 OR, Forrest, 13 September 1897, p.361. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 73 in the Conventions.31 Anthropologist Clifford Geertz also thought we could learn a lot about personality by looking at ‘how people present themselves to themselves and to one another’.32 The delegates from 1890 to 1897–8 were drawn from each of the six existing Australian colonies plus three from New Zealand. Eighty-four men in all took part, some taking part in all the federation meetings. The difference in the method of election to the two Conventions, almost a decade apart, did affect the composition of the meetings, though not by as much as one might expect. Over a period of almost ten years a significant number of delegates, about 20%, attended both the Conventions and one or two were also at the 1890 Conference. The repeat appearance of so many delegates demonstrates that they were drawn from a small pool and supports the contention of Earl Grey, (British Colonial Secretary, 1846– 1852) who recommended a one-chamber parliament for colonial governments on the grounds that there were not enough men who had both the wealth and the ability to be members of a parliament of two houses. He said that bicameralism: ‘in a community not numerous enough to furnish more than a few persons qualified for such duties, is to substitute two comparatively ineffective bodies for one of a superior character’. On this basis a study of the backgrounds of the delegates’ lives has been undertaken to paint a picture of the kind of men who felt themselves so admirably qualified to participate in the drafting of a Constitution for a federal Australia. This will be followed by a selection of quotations taken from the convention debates to learn how the delegates ‘presented themselves’ to each other and to establish their mental images of future senators. Will they, like Parkes and Forrest, betray their vision of men like themselves as ‘ideal senators’? 33 31 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, p.29. 32 C.Geertz, ‘On the Nature of Anthropological Understanding’, American Scientist, 63, 1 1975, p.48. Quoted in Paul A Pickering, 'The Class of 96: A Biographical Analysis of the New Government Members of the Australian House of Representatives', Australian Journal of Politics & History 1998, p.95. 33 Earl Henry George Grey, The Colonial Policy of Lord John Russell's Administration, 2 vols., (London: R. Bentley, 1853), p.97. Here a British Cabinet Minister revealed that he was less attached to the bicameral system than the colonial politicians. By the 1890s and on a national rather than a Colonial basis, this situation was improving in Australia but Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 74 the argument still had validity, especially for a national body that would require an increase in the number of members required overall. Marriott held similar views to Earl Grey and wrote in 1927: The truth is that representative government is apt to be successful only when there is a considerable leisured class upon which the Legislature and Executive can draw. Such a class is the product of centuries of civilisation. The Australian Commonwealth is less than thirty years old.34 It was considerations like this that only those of the leisured class could afford to be active politicians that eventually led to the payment of salaries to members, a long standing part of the British radical programme and designed to encourage those of lesser means to stand for parliament. By 1897 what Marriott described as the ‘advancing tide of democracy’ 35 To undertake a broad survey of all eighty-four delegates to both Conventions would be to repeat much of McDonald’s detailed analysis, as well as the work of La Nauze and Hunt. Therefore the detailed prosopography for this study has been limited to the delegation from Victoria in 1897–8. was gathering strength and the nomination principle had been discarded for the Senate in favour of elections by adult male suffrage. 36 largely composed of the old-fashioned squatter type … The typical Councillor was a long-established and wealthy resident, … a member of I have selected this delegation because it was a typical delegation which had experienced many obstacles and bitterness in dealing with its Council or upper house and because the last Convention was the one that drew up the final version of the Constitution. The Council the Victorian delegates knew was an elected house but with a prohibitive property requirement and it had proved a difficult and stubborn partner. Geoffrey Serle found that until at least 1890 the Victorian Legislative Council was: 34 J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers - an Inductive Study in Political Science, (Oxford: Clarendon, 1927), p.117. 35 Ibid., p.v. 36 All information on individual delegates was taken from their entry in the Australian Dictionary of Biography, unless otherwise noted. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 75 the Melbourne Club, of good family background rather than a self-made man.37 The same description could be applied to the upper houses of each colony in 1890 and is in stark contrast to Parkes’ view of the Convention delegates as ‘self-made’ men ‘without any of the aids of fortune’. The situation led to the uneasy relationship between the two Victorian chambers and also affected other Colonies, so the experience was typical and may have played a part in the decision to have an elected Senate, an idea fiercely resisted in 1891, but accepted without debate in 1897–8. All the Victorian delegates were, or had been, politicians and would have been aware of the nature of the relationship between the two houses of Parliament and the role played by the Legislative Council. These factors would have been very much in their minds as they discussed the structure of a federal upper house. A systematic analysis of the backgrounds and biographical characteristics of the Victorian delegates has been carried out to reveal common experiences and traits, to examine to what extent the backgrounds of these delegates reflect what they saw as an ‘ideal senator’, and if the typical Victorian delegate could be seen as a model of his ideal Senator. A biographical analysis of the Victorian delegation to the Federation Convention in 1897-8 shows many things but the most noteworthy is the similarities in life experience, education and age in the data. Nationality and heritage especially were major areas of conformity: five were born in Australia; of the others, three were born in England, one in Ireland and one in Canada. They were all of British heritage, though one, Isaacs, also had a Jewish heritage but had been culturally assimilated into the British way of life by his Jewish parents. They had left their native Poland in the 1840s to settle in London and later migrated to Victoria where they retained their adopted culture. 37 Geoffrey Serle, 'The Victorian Legislative Council, 1856-1950', Historical Studies: Australia and New Zealand, 1954, p.192. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 76 Table 1. Members of the Victorian Delegation to the 1897-8 Convention Name Honours Title House Sir Graham Berry K.C.M.G. Speaker Legislative Assembly The Honorable Alfred Deakin Member Legislative Assembly The Honorable Simon Fraser Member Legislative Council Henry Bournes Higgins Member Legislative Assembly The Honorable Isaac Alfred Isaacs Attorney-General Legislative Assembly The Honorable Alexander James Peacock Chief Secretary Legislative Assembly John Quick Member Legislative Assembly William Arthur Trenwith Member Legislative Assembly The Honorable Sir George Turner K.C.M.G. Premier Legislative Assembly The Honorable Sir William Austin Zeal K.C.M.G. President Legislative Council The Victorian delegation can be compared with the Convention delegates as a whole in this respect. In the 1891 Convention only 16 of the 46 members were born in Australia; of the 50 delegates to the 1897 Convention 26 were Australian born 23 were born in the British Isles and one (Fraser) in Canada.38 The marked increase in the number of delegates born in Australia is a sign of the changing demographic profile of Australia as native born began to outnumber British born. Of the delegates born in other parts of Empire the length of time they had been in Australia varied greatly from Parkes, a New South Wales delegate, born in England in 1815, arrived in 1839, to Higgins born in Ireland in 1851, arrived in 1870. The strong British presence in the Conventions is a reminder of the overwhelming Britishness of 19th century Australia. To these delegates the British Parliament was an ancient and honourable institution with strong and binding traditions, and it was their loyalty to these traditions that explains why the British 38 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, p.104. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 77 bicameral system was accepted by the delegates as a sound model for the new Australian legislature. Table 2. Early Life experiences of delegates from Victoria Age was not so uniform. The average age of the Victorian delegates in 1897 was 49 years and, though mostly in their forties and fifties, they ranged from 36 (Peacock) to 75 (Berry). This compares with the Conventions overall where the median age was fifty and the oldest delegates, both Tasmanians, were Adye Douglas, 82 in 1897, and William Moore, 80. Walter James, 34, was the youngest.39 Religion was another consistency in the delegation. Eight of the delegates followed versions of the Protestant Christian faiths, such as the Church of England and Methodism. The two exceptions were Isaacs, who retained his Jewish religion, but only Trenwith was an atheist. That there were no Catholics among the Victorian delegates reflects the general ethos of Australia at that time when Catholics, a 39 Ibid. Name Age 1897 Where born Parents Education Religion Early Occupation Berry, Graham 75 England Tradesman Elementary Anglican Storekeeper Tradesman Politician Deakin, Alfred 41 Australia Clerk, Shopkeeper Grammar Melbourne Uni Anglican Teacher Fraser, Simon 65 Canada Farmer Elementary Anglican Business Higgins, Henry 46 Ireland Minister Church of Ireland Elementary Melbourne Uni Anglican Teacher Lawyer Isaacs, Isaac 42 Australia Tailor Elementary Melbourne Uni Jewish Teacher Lawyer Peacock, Andrew 36 Australia Draper Elementary Anglican Mining,politics Quick, John 45 England Farmer Matriculation Melbourne Uni Methodist Casual work Lawyer Trenwith, William 51 Australia Convicts Home Self Taught Atheist Bootmaker Trade unionist Turner, George 46 Australia Cabinet Maker Matriculation Melbourne Uni Anglican Clerk Lawyer Zeal, William 49 England Wine Merchant Private Schools Diploma in eng/surveying Anglican Surveyor Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 78 large minority group, were still regarded with some mistrust, this despite the fact that Victoria had had two Catholic Premiers, Gavan Duffy and John O’Shanassy. There were only two Roman Catholics in the whole Convention: Patrick McMahon Glynn and Richard Edward O'Connor.40 The consistency of the Victorian delegation is also apparent in their social status at birth: none of them were born to wealth and only Trenwith had been born into poverty. They were mostly the sons of moderately successful tradesmen, though Higgins was the son of a clergyman in the Church of Ireland and Zeal’s father, a wine merchant, was quite prosperous. Ambitious parents helped some succeed; others made it by personal ambition and abilities, such as Trenwith whose parents had both been convicts in Tasmania. His father had been a bootmaker, a trade which Trenwith also took up when he left home at about the age of thirteen. He soon became involved in the Launceston Working Man’s Club where he learned self-reliance and independence, as well as boxing, debating and self-education. At the Convention he represented the working class in the archetypical role of the radical shoemaker, as discussed in Hobsbawm’s article on the strength of the radical and intellectual activities often found in the trade. Hobsbawn found shoemakers had a reputation as the ‘ideologists of the common people’ and, as a trade, had in the 19th century a reputation for radicalism. 41 This analysis matches what McDonald tells us about the delegates generally. They were not born into wealth or prestige either but, like the Victorians, were not poor or under-privileged. They were the sons of ministers of religion, military officers, minor public servants, farmers and labourers and some were from pastoral or political families. 42 40 Alfred Deakin, The Federal Story: The Inner History of the Federal Cause, 1880-1900, ed. with an Introduction by J.A. La Nauze, (Parkville, Victoria: Melbourne University Press, 1963), p.63. 41 Eric Hobsbawm and Joan W. Scott, 'Political Shoemakers', in Worlds of Labour: Further Studies in the History of Labour, (London: Weidenfield & Nicholson, 1984), p.104. 42 McDonald, 'The Eighty Founding Fathers', p.38. Parkes’ words quoted earlier about the quality of the delegates to the 1891 Convention were equally true of those of the 1897-8 Convention. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 79 The unremarkable family backgrounds of the delegates meant that, for most, formal schooling ended at the elementary level, though Trenwith was taught by his mother and later self-educated and Deakin attended Melbourne Grammar School and later graduated in law from Melbourne University. Zeal acquired a professional qualification as a surveyor and engineer in England before migrating to Australia. Several pursued higher education later in life and four qualified as lawyers: Turner, Quick, Isaacs, and Higgins. With the already qualified lawyer Deakin, this meant there were five lawyers representing Victoria at the Convention: a proportion which carried throughout the whole Convention, where out of a total of fifty delegates, twenty-five were lawyers. Davidson has argued that the Constitution Bill was drafted by lawyers ‘the same men who had run the colonial states for fifty years’ and these statistics generally support his argument.43 Before entering politics most of the delegation had been employed in lower middle- class occupations, except for Trenwith who worked in his trade until elected as the member for Richmond in 1889 at the age of fifty-one. He had been deeply involved in trade unionism in the 1880s, which prepared him for the demands of political office. The early occupations of the remainder of the Victorian delegation ranged from Trenwith, the bootmaker and trade union official, to entrepreneur Fraser, storekeeper Berry and mining business official Peacock. Higgins, the son of a clergyman, worked as a clerk in Ireland before emigrating to Melbourne with his family in 1870, where he qualified as a teacher. In later life all the delegates were successful self-made men, having achieved either wealth or status or both through successful business enterprises or public office. Simon Fraser became wealthy from construction, grazing and banking activities and Graham Berry, from humble beginnings, had served in Parliament for several periods over forty years before the Convention and had risen to Ministerial level and the Premiership at various times in his long career. 44 43 Davidson, The Invisible State, p.231. 44 All information on individual delegates was taken from their entry in the Australian Dictionary of Biography Online Edition, unless otherwise noted. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 80 The employment pattern of the larger group of delegates is more difficult to analyse in detail but it compares with the Victorian delegation. McDonald found that many were professionals and forty-nine were engaged in various industries such as pastoralism, commerce, mining, finance, agriculture, manufacturing and other forms of business. He concluded that they were capitalists and part of a capitalist milieu of investment, trade, production and company administration. He found them enterprising and acquisitive profit seekers. This bears out Crisp’s argument that the delegates were the ‘big men of property or their trusted allies’.45 The pattern of employment of the Victorian delegates had changed from mostly lower-middle class occupations by the time of the 1897 Convention and the occupation of nine of them was as a member of parliament. Seven were members of the Legislative Assembly, including the Premier (Turner), the Speaker (Berry), and the Attorney General (Isaacs); two were Councillors including the President (Zeal).The odd man out in this category was John Quick who, though not a current member of Parliament, had been a member of the Assembly from 1880 to 1889. He had been active in the preconvention years working towards federation and it was he who devised the successful programme for bringing Federation into reality. Altogether, the delegates had an average Parliamentary experience of thirteen years ranging from a low of three (Higgins) to a high of forty (Berry). Two, Zeal and Turner, had also served as municipal councillors. Given this strong representation of the politically active at the Convention it is easy to understand how past political practice became a powerful factor in the attitudes of the delegates. In terms of political experience the Victorian delegation was comparable to the delegates as a whole, where all except one were, or had been, active in Australian politics and would have been familiar with governmental procedures. It is possible that the delegates’ business interests encouraged them to look beyond the horizons of one colony. A growing realisation of the connections between the colonies was characteristic of that generation. 46 45 Crisp, Australian National Government, p. 14. 46 Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, p.16. As already noted only Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 81 James Thomas Walker had not been a Member of Parliament47 and according to La Nauze, contributed little to the debates. He had been a bank manager and had written and lectured on federal finance and might have expected to be on the finance committee where his real expertise lay, but he was placed on the judiciary committee and perhaps this contributed to his silence.48 He did distinguish himself however by conferring the name ‘Senate’ on the upper house. The decision had been to name the upper house the States’ Assembly’ when Walker interjected saying ‘In place of States Assembly I propose that we should call it ‘Senate’. This was carried 27 votes to 21.49 Ideologically the delegates in this study were Protectionists. In Victoria, as John Rickard has noted, ‘to oppose protection … was, particularly for a liberal, political folly’. 50 Higgins and Deakin were both liberals and supported, or at least did not actively oppose, protectionism as in Victoria the two were compatible. With this in mind seven of the delegates were declared protectionists including Deakin who had changed his views, having been influenced by David Syme of the Melbourne Age.51 Exceptions were Berry, a radical whose agenda for reform was more ambitious than the Liberals and who was vehemently opposed to the conservative ideology and obstructionism of members of the Legislative Council; Trenwith, the Labour man, and Fraser who was ‘anti-socialist’. There were no organised political parties in the 1890s except the emerging Labour Party and politicians were described according to their expressed views by such terms as radical, socialist, liberal, and conservative, in addition to Free Trade and Protectionist. John Rickard has argued that in the 1890s ‘in both colonies [Victoria and New South Wales] there seemed to be a large political majority in favour of ‘liberal’ policies.’52 47 Galligan and Warden, 'The Design of the Senate', p. 91, n.6. 48 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, pp.101, 120-122. 49 OR, 13 April 1897, p. 481. 50 John Rickard, ‘Higgins, Henry Bournes (1851-1929)’ in Australian Dictionary of Biography, online edition, 2006. Melbourne University Press. http://www.adb.online.anu.edu.au/adbonline.htm. 51 R. Norris, 'Deakin, Alfred (1856-1919)', in Ibid. 52 John Rickard, Class and Politics, New South Wales, Victoria and the Early Commonwealth, (Canberra. Australian National University Press, 1976), p.83. None of the historians writing on the Victorian delegates specifically addressed the ideology of the delegates except in such blanket terms. Crisp, for example, discussed the Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 82 ideology of the delegates in relation to their views on States’ Rights in the debates and mentions liberals, conservatives and occasionally democrats.53 The terms are imprecise especially as delegates changed their views on such things as whether or not senators should be elected.54 Name The general view of the delegates’ ideologies as a whole, as expressed by historians, is that they were a mostly conservative group but there was a leavening of more liberal thinkers such as Deakin, Baker, and Higgins. To some extent this supports the perception—actually fiction—that the members of the colonies’ Upper Houses were free from the taint of party affiliation. Table 3. Later life experience of delegates from Victoria up to 1897 Occupation before politics Years in politics Club member etc. Home Property Marital Status/children Berry, Graham Early Politician 40 years No M. m.1, 11 ch m.2, 7 ch. Deakin, Alfred Lawyer 8 No Social Gentry Register University Debating Club ANA* South Yarra M. 3d Fraser, Simon Entrepreneur 12 Australian Club Toorak Mansion Property in Qld. NSW. Vic. M. 3s.1d. Higgins, Henry Lawyer 3 University Debating Club Mansion in Malvern M. 1s. Isaacs, Isaac Lawyer 5 Freemason ANA* Country House Mt.Macedon M. 2d. Peacock, Andrew Mining Politics 8 Freemason ANA* Unmarried Quick, John Lawyer 9 Yorick Club Freemason ANA* Quarry Hill M. 1d. Trenwith, William Trade union official 5 No M.(1896) 3s. 1d. Turner, George Lawyer 8 Councillor No ANA* St. Kilda M. 1s. 1d. Zeal, William Surveyor politician 19 Councillor No Toorak S. * ANA Australian Natives Association The ideology of the delegates would have been influenced by their life experiences and by the time of the conventions they were all experienced politicians who had been involved in public affairs for most of their adult lives and had achieved a 53 Crisp, Australian National Government, pp.14-17. 54 For the study of the Victorian delegates I have followed the assessments in the Australian Dictionary of Biography as the most consistent classification of their ideologies. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 83 moderate social status and comfortable level of prosperity. Some were to rise higher and three were to become senators in the first federal Parliament, as were seven Convention delegates from other States. Except for Simon Fraser, who owned properties in Queensland and New South Wales as well as Victoria, the Victorian delegates were not wealthy men but all had achieved a level of financial independence and a place in their society. They lived in modest, middle class Melbourne suburbs, except for Higgins who had built a mansion in Malvern, Isaacs who had a country house at Mount Macedon, and Fraser who ‘resided genteely in his villa at Toorak’.55 The delegates were active participants in Melbourne society, though not at an elite level. The late 19th century was the era of Clubs for Gentlemen but these either had not attracted many of the delegates or they may have failed to be admitted. For example, none belonged to the elite Melbourne Club, the most exclusive in town with membership strictly limited according to rules supposedly based on a man’s character and occupation. Simon Fraser belonged to the Australian Club, a less exclusive establishment set up as an alternative to the Melbourne Club, and in a different part of town, and John Quick was a member of the Yorick, a club for men ‘sympathetic with Literature, Art or Science’. Peacock married after the Convention and only Zeal remained unmarried. The eight who married became the fathers of between one and four children. Berry had the largest family of eleven children by his first wife (eight survived him) and seven by his second wife. Peacock had no children. 56 55 McDonald, 'The Eighty Founding Fathers', p.47. 56 Serville, Pounds and Pedigrees, pp. 360, 366. Three of the delegates were Freemasons, (Isaacs, Peacock, and Quick) and Deakin, though not a clubman, was listed in the Social Gentry Register. Delegates were active in other areas— both Deakin and Higgins had been members of the Melbourne University Debating Club and five were members of the Australian Natives Association (ANA) which was a key supporter of the Federation movement. Initially the ANA was open only to those born in Australia, but John Quick was allowed to join in an honorary capacity and worked to promote support for Federation among other members. Such activities exposed them to society in general and added to a public profile Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 84 beyond their political careers. By contrast, Victoria’s upper house was regarded as ‘pastoralist-dominated’ and a gross plutocracy. It was viewed as the legislative arm of the Melbourne Club and more than a third of men elected to the Upper House were members.57 If the delegates did not qualify or were not interested in joining the more elite established clubs this may have been because they were already and automatically, members of an exclusive club as members of Parliament. It was a club which, as well as facilities such as a library, dining room and meeting rooms other than the Chambers, bestowed a sound social standing, a level of companionship within a circle of friends, colleagues and acquaintances and entry to the highest levels of society such as functions at Government House. The entertainments provided at the Convention for the pleasure of the delegates are an indication of their status in society. In Sydney in 1897, a heavy social programme included ‘a public conversazione, a banquet, a night at the theatre to see The French Maid, a moonlight harbour excursion, a government house ball, a tattoo, several garden parties and at-homes, an excursion along the Hawkesbury River and another to attend the Newcastle Centenary Celebrations’. This was an exhausting but pleasurable itinerary which was wittily criticised by one reporter as ‘Federation by Festivity’. 58 An added celebration was the sudden marriage on 11 September 1897 of one of the delegates, Patrick McMahon Glynn, who escorted his new bride to the Government House Ball. He had written to her proposing marriage during a sitting of the Convention and they were married within the week. The Melbourne Argus christened him ‘An ardent Federationist’ for his romantic deed, while the Bulletin felt that he had brightened the Convention with his ‘meteor like rush into matrimony’.59 57 Ibid., pp.93, 96, 90. 58 Crowley, Big John Forrest: 1847–1918: A Founding Father of the Commonwealth of Australia, pp.190-191. 59 Gerald O'Collins, Patrick McMahon Glynn: A Founder of the Australian Commonwealth, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1965), pp.128-9. The social round would have been beneficial as well as pleasurable to the delegates, introducing them to the delegates from other colonies and the elites of the land, and broadening their appreciation of the concept of a federated Australia. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 85 Other opportunities for broadening the mind for the delegates came with travel. Those born overseas and who had spent some years of their youth in other countries (Berry in England, Fraser in Canada, and Higgins in Ireland) had international experience but extended travel itself was not a frequent activity and what there was was mostly official rather than voluntary and mainly to England. Berry was in England on Government business in 1878 and again as Agent- General in London from 1886 until 1891. Turner, with other Premiers attended the celebrations in London for Queen Victoria’s jubilee in 1897—mid-Convention—and Fraser represented Victoria at the Ottawa Conference in 1894. Fraser had also toured Europe and America in 1883 and, in 1886 Higgins took an extensive honeymoon trip which included India, Egypt, France, England, Scotland and Ireland. While in London he arranged to be called to the Bar ‘consuming the requisite eighteen dinners at the Inner Temple’.60 The most extensive travel by one of the Victorian delegates was undertaken by Deakin who visited America in 1884- 5, where he was deeply impressed with what he learned. He visited the West coast to study irrigation and also took the opportunity to visit the East coast. There is no evidence that he ever visited Washington or Congress but he was impressed enough with Bryce’s work The American Commonwealth to strongly recommend it to the delegates at the 1890 Conference as ‘a text-book for the philosophic study of constitutional questions’.61 The extensive diary of his travels in the United States reveals his admiration for the American way and he clearly drew some of his ideas on Federation from his visit to the United States as well as from Bryce.62 Further travel came in 1887 when he went to London to attend the Colonial Conference where he ‘attracted favourable attention’.63 The Victorian delegates’ experience of travel was typical of those of the Convention as a whole for whom travel was also restricted mainly to Europe and Britain, whether privately or to study, to tour, on commercial business or 60 Rickard, H.B. Higgins: The Rebel as Judge, p.66. 61 OR, 10 February 1890, p.25. 62 J.A. La Nauze, Alfred Deakin, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1962), pp.166-8. 63 Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, pp.20-21. Deakin had also visited Ceylon and India in 1890 to study irrigation. See J.A. La Nauze, Alfred Deakin: A biography, (Melbourne, Melbourne University Press, 1965), Vol.1. p.133. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 86 sometimes to represent their Colony on Government business or at conferences. Some of the delegates from other Colonies, such as John Cockburn, decided to spend their declining years there.64 Exposure to the United States federal system was not as frequent as to the British system but Andrew Inglis Clark, Tasmanian Attorney-General, and member of the 1891 Convention, like Deakin, travelled to America and greatly admired the federal system.65 From these travel experiences, especially to Britain, came a deepening influence of British culture on the minds of the delegates which added further strength to the force of path dependence. It was here, to invoke Marx’s words again, that they encountered the ‘tradition of all the dead generations’.66 This biographical analysis of Victorian delegates’ backgrounds, experience and education shows that they were middle-class, middle-aged and, for the most part established men of influence, position and achievement. Typically they were Protestant and married with children. Among them were also men of experience, energy and deep convictions, such as Higgins and Deakin while others were less active. Berry, now an ageing politician whose fire was fading, was mostly silent as was Peacock, whose comparative youth and inexperience suggest a lack of confidence in such an ‘august’ company, though he was famous for his ‘bizarre’ and loud laughter. 67 Does this examination show that in biographical terms the subset of ten Victorian Convention delegates embodied the characteristics of the kind of man they envisaged as an ideal senator: of strong British connections; Christian and Protestant; industrious; respectable; a worthy, middle-aged, middle-class, prosperous family man with a significant stake in society? Though not born wealthy The more open minded among them were not radicals or extremists but were liberals, moderates: men like Henry Higgins and Alfred Deakin, and in the wider field of the Conventions as a whole Inglis Clark, Richard Baker and Henry Parkes. 64 McDonald, 'The Eighty Founding Fathers', p.40. 65 Crisp, Australian National Government, p. 18. 66 Karl Marx, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte: with explanatory notes, (New York: New York, International Publishers, 1964), p.15. 67 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, pp.102, 151. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 87 nor of society’s elite, they had achieved a quasi-elite status through their own energy, diligence and talent. From unprivileged family, educational and employment backgrounds, they had become successful and esteemed politicians of moderate liberal or conservative views, with sound social connections with one another, their families, their society at large and their political colleagues. Comparing them with the total membership of the Conventions they were typical of the representation. They were a meritocracy and quite a different breed to the squattocracy described by Serle as members of Victoria’s Legislative Council in 1890. The Council had been dominated by gentlemen and members of polite society from its inception in 1855–6 and in the early days many Councillors were members of the Melbourne Club. This dominance was reduced by the latter part of the century but criticisms continued as the conservative Legislative Council, elected on a franchise of wealth and composed mainly of rich men, blocked the wishes of the democratic Assembly.68 What I mean is an upper chamber, call it what you may, which shall have within itself the only conservatism possible in a democracy—the conservatism of maturity of judgment, of distinction of service, of length of experience, and weight of character. To dig a little deeper, I have studied speeches from all the Conventions, beginning in 1891, to gain some insight into the delegates’ views on the ‘ideal senator’. The first indications of the perceptions of an ideal Senate in the 1891 Convention came from Henry Parkes in his introductory remarks in the first discussion of the structure of the legislature. He described his idea of the Senate in these words: 69 This could fairly be said to describe the Convention delegates, at least in their own estimation, and is evidence of Parkes’ idea of a superior body of men. Coming from the chairman himself, it was quite likely to influence the views of some delegates. Parkes was followed by John Gordon who commented, with no evidence at all, that ‘The senate will probably be the better house of the two!’ 70 68 Serville, Pounds and Pedigrees, p.143. 69 OR, 4 March 1891, p.26. 70 Ibid., 4 March 1891, p.37. He Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 88 did not indicate why this should be so but it illustrates that he, at least, had internalised the notion of a house of superior character. An indication of the influence of Parkes’ words came later in the debate when Edmund Barton reiterated his prescription: the President told us that in the senate we seek to create as lofty, as dignified, an upper chamber as we can, and we seek to create it as nearly on the British model as we can.71 John Macrossan then expressed the hope that men would aspire to becoming senators as he considered they did in the United States: ‘owing to the power and dignity which our senate will possess’. Here the ubiquitous idea of power and dignity being important requisites for the Senate is clearly expressed and Macrossan continued in this vein with the remark that the Senate would possess superior influence ‘by its superior ability, being the elected of men who are themselves elected for their ability by the different states’. 72 So the notion of superiority was added to the qualities of an upper house and clearly connected to the principle of nomination by the state parliaments. John Downer also had little doubt about the sort of body the Senate should be: ‘the senate should be a house of high dignity and of great authority’.73 The erudite William McMillan expressed another view that saw the Senate as ‘attracting the best men of Australasia within its four walls’ and it would not be ‘of the pettifogging character that it would interfere with every jot and tittle connected with expenditure’.74 That the Senate would naturally attract men of superior ability was a recurring theme. As Stafford Bird enunciated: ‘If we acknowledge that those who are to be members of the senate are men of good standing, men of good judgment, if we are going to have men of this class, why hesitate to give them the power claimed for them by some to deal with bills of all kinds?’ 75 71 Ibid., 17 March 1891, p.411. 72 Ibid., 17 March 1891, p.436. 73 ibid., 18 March 1891, p.472. 74 ibid., 3 April 1891, p.718. 75 Ibid., 6 April 1891, p.728. John Forrest was in no doubt about the qualities of the ideal Senate: ‘I believe that they will be, if anything, a superior Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 89 body, thoroughly representative, wise, and patriotic,’ and added what a superior body we intend to create’.76 George Dibbs, speaking in support of a nominated Senate said ‘I do not know a more refined process by which you could make a more perfect, and independent, and probably intelligent senate than that’.77 He went on to say that he would vote for nomination because it would produce the ‘best men … a body of men whose weight, whose experience, and whose intelligence will be felt throughout the country; a senate which … will command the full confidence and respect of the people’.78 The superior house envisaged by the delegates would in their view be inhabited by elite individuals. In 1891 it was foreseen that senators would be ‘men of character and position’; they would have ‘maturity of judgement, of distinction of service, of length of experience, and weight of character’. 79 Capable and eminent men would aspire to be senators, owing to the power and dignity of the Senate which would be a superior body. Senators would be the ‘best men … whose weight, experience and intelligence would be felt throughout the country. They would be men of good standing and good judgment’.80 These fulsome comments were made when, with an implicit or subliminal desire to restrain democracy, the delegates had agreed that the States’ legislatures would be responsible for the selection and nomination of Senators. By 1897 things had changed and democratic principles had gained strength enough for the idea of direct election of the Senators by the people of each State to be accepted. The resolutions put before the 1897 Convention included an uncompromising clause which stated explicitly that ‘The senator’s [sic] shall be directly chosen by the people of the state as one electorate’. 81 76 ibid., 6 April 1891, p.732. 77 Ibid., 6 April 1891, p.753. 78 Ibid., 6 April 1891, p.755. 79 Ibid., 2 March 1891, p.26. 80 Ibid., 7 April 1891, p.755. 81 Ibid., 13 September 1897, p.361. The Resolution was debated and passed in September 1897. This did not silence those who saw the upper house as an elite institution, but it provided a new context for the rhetoric. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 90 Early in the 1897 Convention Richard Baker impatiently attacked the pervasive notion of the superiority of the proposed Senate and those who saw it as an elite institution, even an imitation of the House of Lords. ‘I cannot help thinking’ he quipped: that it is extremely difficult for some people to get out of their heads the idea that the Senate is a kind of glorified Upper House; they cannot appreciate the fact that the Senate represents the people as fully as the House of Representatives.82 Though the comments about the superiority of the Senate were less emphatic in 1897, Downer still saw the Senate as ‘lordly’ as well as ‘important and dignified’. Baker had a point. He was passionate in his opposition to ‘responsible government’, the model favoured by most delegates and eventually adopted. He wanted the Senate to be constructed on similar principles to the United States’ body and argued his case with fervour and conviction, but could not dent the stubborn desire for a ‘dignified’ upper house. In many ways he was the exception that proves the rule. 83 McMillan, waxing eloquent as was his wont, saw the Senate as a ‘great moderating assembly’, envisaging an assembly of judgement, wisdom and patriotism, a chamber of character, where moderation would rule and the members, men with experience and wisdom, would be ‘touched with the glory of the upper house’.84 Glory is a strong and colourful word in this context, conjuring up visions of grandeur and magnificence, hardly democratic virtues. McMillan seems rather confused in his vision of the Senate. What he seems to be saying is that by becoming Senators those elected would be imbued with the required virtues of experience and wisdom simply by association. He combines this thought with an articulation of the house of review concept: ‘a moderating assembly’, a view further underscored by O'Connor who saw the Senate as a ‘steadying and controlling influence’.85 82 Ibid., 23 March 1897, p.30. 83 Ibid., 29 March 1897, p.209. 84 Ibid., 8 September 1897, p.219. 85 Ibid., 24 March 1897, p.56. In the speeches extolling the hoped for qualities of an upper house Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 91 and its members, the recurrence of many of the words explains to some extent how it was evisioned by the majority of the delegates, excluding Baker who had severely rebuked the delegates about the idea of a ‘glorified upper house’ early in 1897.86 For most delegates the Senate would be an elite and gracious institution inhabited by wise, experienced politicians, men of remarkable qualities, dispensing wisdom and justice which would ‘temper the possible democratic excesses of the lower chamber’.87 In the delegates’ language of representation can be detected a Burkean understanding of parliamentary representation. Edmund Burke, a leading Whig parliamentarian, in 1774 famously expressed the notion of representation as ‘Your representative owes you not his industry only, but his judgement and he betrays instead of serving you, if he sacrifices it to your opinion’.88 While in 1891 delegates thought that the nomination principle would safeguard the choice of Senators and ensure they would have the desired qualities and characteristics, in 1897, with the decision for direct election of Senators, there was no such guarantee and there was less discussion of this aspect in that Convention. Was this because the delegates considered there would be less control on the type of men selected to serve than there would have been with the nomination principle? Perhaps, but the fact that the delegates to the 1897 Convention had been elected on the same principle now proposed for the Senators was probably equally influential. Though the change had been accepted without demur, John Forrest was not convinced. He still thought that nomination would be best and ‘more likely to yield good results than the plan proposed in this bill’. In the same speech, however, he described the 1897 delegates as ‘able, true and patriotic’ and commended the idea of election for senators as an ‘excellent plan’, which quite contradicted his earlier thought. 89 86 Ibid., 23 March 1897, p.30. 87 Ged Martin, Bunyip Aristocracy, (Sydney: Croom Helm, 1986), p.41. It is interesting to note the exalted expectations of delegates about the membership of the Senate were not reflected in the actual results of the 1901 Federal elections when eight Labour members held the balance of power. 88 Paul A. Pickering and Alex Tyrrell, The Peoples’ Bread: a history of the Corn Law League, (London and New York, Leicester University Press, 2000), pp.179-180. 89 OR, Forrest, 13 September 1897, p.361. It was an ironic comment as his own Colony had Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 92 not elected its delegates, they had been selected by the parliament, but he may have been in the process of changing his mind. Able, true and patriotic is a pleasing description of the Convention delegates. Ability they had demonstrated in their careers, and true implies trust in and loyalty to colleagues and country. Patriotic, a word Forrest and other delegates used frequently and ambiguously, is usually taken to mean love of one’s country—the new Australia in this context. Here I suggest Forrest also envisaged a continued loyalty to Britain, the country and culture which he and the Convention embraced as their own and had voted to retain in the Parliament they were constructing. Forrest also issued a dire and prescient warning in the same speech, saying that direct election would mean: ‘instead of having the voice of the people represented … you will have a host of cliques and rings voting by ticket from one end of the country to the other’.90 Without undertaking an exhaustive content analysis, a study of the words most frequently used by the delegates to describe the ideal Senate and Senator reinforces the idea that the Senate was foreseen as a noble and stately institution: words such as: maturity, dignity, authority, and judgement occur often. Barton wanted ‘as dignified an upper chamber as we can’; This was a forecast of the emergence of political parties and their future dominance over both houses of parliament even the Senate, the States’ House. 91 Macrossan saw ‘a strong and powerful senate which will have dignity and authority’ and ‘a superior body’ with ‘men of maturity of judgement, distinction, service, length of experience, and with capable and eminent men’.92 Downer also saw ‘a house of high dignity’ … ‘knowing its importance and its dignity’; and with ‘superior ability and influence’. 93 Downer’s ‘lordly’,94 90 Ibid., 13 September 1897, p.362. 91 Ibid., 17 March 1891, p.411. 92 Ibid., 17 March 1891, p.436. 93 Ibid., 18 March 1891, p.472. 94 Ibid.,, 29 March 1897, p.209. though said Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 93 with more than a hint of sarcasm, and McMillan’s ‘glory’95 directly evoke a vision of splendour and betray a subliminal notion of an upper class in the upper house. Wisdom and character also made frequent appearances, complemented by O'Connor who foresaw a ‘steadying, controlling and moderating influence’.96 Important, strong and powerful were other favourites and Dibbs’ contribution was a Senate ‘perfect, independent and probably intelligent’ even if he sounded a little uncertain about the last attribute.97 Weight appeared occasionally as well as experience and intelligence. Baker saw the senators as men of ‘character and position’98 and Bird added ‘men of good standing, of good judgement’.99 Though the biographical data suggest that the delegates were all very similar men, some were more prominent and active than others. Leaders such as Henry ‘Dignity’ was a great favourite evoking a vision of personal as well as institutional formality, decorum and courtesy, as would be fitting in a house of such excellence. The use of the word further emphasises the vision in the delegates’ minds of an elite house in a class distinction sense and one superior to the ‘lower’ House of Representatives. This was a lofty vision, yet the remarkable aspect of these aims is that no-one suggested how they could ensure such a splendid result. Perhaps McMillan’s argument had influenced them: that simply being elected as Senators would imbue the elected with the necessary qualities, touching them with the ‘glory’ of the upper house, or perhaps they were unable to discard the idea of nomination even though election had been agreed upon. It is possible that the lack of debate on the topic of election had caused some delegates to forget the change of method of appointing Senators, though the fact that the most eloquent descriptions of superiority were made in 1891 suggests that not all of them had. 95 Ibid., 8 September 1897, p.219. 96 Ibid., 24 March 1897, p.56. 97 Ibid., 6 April 1891, p.753. 98 Ibid., 1 April 1891, p.544. 99 Ibid., 6 April 1891, p.728. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 94 Parkes, Alfred Deakin and Edmund Barton were all experienced politicians and major influences on the direction of the Conventions. Staunch conservatives such as John Forrest and Henry Dobson expressed their views strongly but were not supported in the divisions. Andrew Clark and Richard Baker, supported by Deakin, spoke out strongly against responsible government but they failed to convince the Conventions. Higgins, in his vehement opposition to equal State representation in the Senate, presented the views of the major colonies, but the fear that less powerful colonies would not then join the Federation persuaded even some who agreed with him to vote for equal representation. The views of the more vocal delegates were the most evident but not necessarily the most important or influential. The less obvious delegates, those who said little, were equally important because their votes carried the decisions. James Lee Steere and William Loton for example, were almost silent but they voted loyally along with their leader, John Forrest, along conservative lines.100 The delegates’ ideas of a Senate arose from their own service in the colonial parliaments and their grounding in British culture. They held on to these ideals with tenacity because they believed that their model of an upper house was not only appropriate but necessary and would strengthen and safeguard the Federation by providing a higher authority on all legislation. From their speeches in the debates Their enthusiasm for Federation was, like their leader’s, at best lukewarm. Though the delegates had arrived at the Convention from different routes they had by then achieved similar positions in society and could now be seen as something of a homogenous group. This resulted in complementary opinions and values which enabled compromise on difficult decisions, such as the dilemma over equal representation for the States in the Senate. They were confident that the decisions they made in regard to an upper house were correct and would ensure its stability and its ‘dignity’ by the election of good, sound citizens—such as themselves—to the Senate. 100 Deakin, The Federal Story: The Inner History of the Federal Cause, 1880-1900, p.60. Chapter 3: In Their Own Image 95 and from their biographical backgrounds, it may be concluded that the delegates’ vision of future Senators was very much in their own image. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 96 Chapter 4 ‘The Wisest, the Safest, the Best’1 : Colonial Upper Houses as models Henry Parkes expressed this heartfelt sentiment about the bicameral style of legislature as existed in Britain, in a speech to the New South Wales Parliament in 1873. It was a sentiment that prevailed when the meetings of the Federal Conventions took place in the Legislative Assembly Chambers of the various Australian Colonies in the 1890s.2 As the Convention delegates, in the stiff, dark suits and top hats of the era, assembled to debate a new constitution for Australia, a stately accoutrement of power confronted them: at the head of the Chamber a Speaker’s Chair, often ornately fashioned and on a plinth or platform, would face the delegates, seated in green leather armchairs or benches arranged in a horse- shoe pattern. Though not as elaborate as the Legislative Council Chambers, the Assembly Chambers were formally laid out and furnished with heavy, ornate furniture and fittings that breathed power, dignity and authority.3 1 Henry Parkes, Speeches, (Melbourne: George Robertson, 1876), p.356. 2 Sydney, 1891, Legislative Assembly Chamber; Adelaide, 1897, House of Assembly Chamber; Sydney, 1897, Legislative Assembly Chamber; Melbourne, 1898, Legislative Assembly Chamber. 3 The plans of the various chambers differ in detail but present a similar layout and arrangements. The trappings of Australian lower houses were also reminders of their predecessor and model, the House of Commons in Britain, and were designed to reflect the furnishings of that Chamber. To add to the solemnity of the proceedings the rules of debate in the Conventions were managed by staff of the Colonial Assemblies and followed the pattern of the standing orders of the lower houses, themselves based upon the procedures of the House of Commons. In these surroundings and with these formalities it is easy to imagine tradition and history weighing heavily on the Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 97 shoulders of the delegates. Powerful encompassing forces, reminders of past glories and intimations of future triumphs, would constrain choices. This chapter will explore the historical development of the colonial Constitutions and their upper houses to discover what influence they had on the decisions of the delegates in regard to the Australian Senate. All but one of the delegates were familiar with the model of Government in their home Colony and would naturally have been deeply influenced by their experiences and the historical traditions found there, in tandem with a strong sense of their British national heritage and perception of the British Parliament. To what extent did their vision of an ideal parliament draw upon these factors? Five Australian Colonies achieved responsible self-government in the 1850s: New South Wales, Victoria, Tasmania and South Australia in 1856, and Queensland from its first establishment as an independent Colony in 1859. Western Australia, settled later, achieved independence in 1890. Self-government in all of the Colonies except Queensland was preceded by a gradual evolution from autocratic rule by a Governor, first to representative institutions without a responsible executive and later to full independence and ‘responsible government’.4 The history of the New South Wales parliament is necessarily longer than that of the other Colonies as it was the first Colony on the continent, but as it was the model and trailblazer for the rest of Australia its early history is included as part of the histories of the other Colonies. The first form of Government in Australia was in New South Wales and began, as noted above, with autocratic rule by a Governor who was answerable to Britain. The Governor’s rule was absolute until 1823, when a five-member legislature was established by Britain as an advisory Council to the Governor (then Sir Thomas Brisbane) and its members were senior officers responsible to him. The Council had no law-making powers and the Governor was not bound to follow their advice. Only the Governor could initiate a Bill and he could override the Council even if it disagreed with his proposal, but legislation that was 4 J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers - an Inductive Study in Political Science, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1910), p.152. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 98 ‘repugnant to the laws of England’ was prohibited.5 This Council was the first legislative body in Australia and passed its first Act on 25 August 1824. Membership was increased to seven members in 1825 and included John Macarthur, a wealthy and influential pioneer sheepman who had ‘boasted that he was responsible for the recall of several Governors’ and who represented the landed interests; thus the wealthy free settlers first gained a foothold in the government of the Colony.6 The Act provided for a unicameral legislature of thirty-six members, twelve of whom were nominated by the Crown and appointed by the Governor, himself a member, and the remaining twenty-four were elected by a male franchise based on property qualifications. The Governor now had no immediate control of the Council and in 1843, the introduction of a Speaker meant he ceased even to be a member. In 1829 the Council was again increased, this time to fifteen members and the Governor’s powers were reduced. Transportation of convicts to the colony ended in 1840 and in 1842 the British Government passed New South Wales’ first Constitution Act. 7 The body was still known as the Legislative Council. By 1851 membership had increased to 54, of whom 18 were nominated and 36 elected by male franchise, again based on property qualifications, and its powers were increased to include legislative authority and financial powers.8 The Australian self-government process got seriously under way in 1850 when the Imperial Parliament in Britain passed ‘An Act for the better Government of Her Majesty’s Australian Colonies’. This Act provided for self-government by The Council continued in various forms as a unicameral, partly elected and partly nominated body until the granting of responsible government in 1856 when, as will be discussed later, it was succeeded by a traditional bicameral legislature. 5 A.C.V. Melbourne, Early Constitutional Development in Australia, ed. R.B. Joyce, (St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 1963), pp.98-103. 6 Ibid., p.113. John Hirst, Australia’s Democracy: a short history, (Crows Nest, Australia: Allen & Unwin, 2002), p.12. 7 Gareth Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', (Sydney: New South Wales Parliamentary Library, 2001), p.27. 8 Barbara Page, 'The Legislative Council of New South Wales: Past Present and Future', (Sydney: Parliament of New South Wales, 1990), p.1. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 99 unicameral Legislative Councils in South Australia (which had never been part of New South Wales), Van Diemen’s Land (later Tasmania, separated from New South Wales in 1825) and Victoria, separated from New South Wales under this Act. Each Council was to comprise two-thirds elected and one-third nominee members, the total number to be determined by the Governors and existing Councils. The Act also authorised the setting up of bicameral parliamentary systems in those colonies to establish: ‘instead of the Legislative Council, a Council and a House of Representatives, or other separate Legislative Houses’ (my emphasis). It also gave authority to each of them to draft a Constitution to provide a framework for responsible government. The phrase ‘or other separate Legislative Houses’ suggests that a certain latitude was present in the possible structure of the proposed parliaments.9 The passing of the Act was followed in December 1852 by the Colonial Secretary in Britain (Sir John Pakington, and in the following year, his successor the Duke of Newcastle) writing to the Governors of New South Wales, Victoria and South Australia encouraging them to draft constitutions under Act of the 1850. 10 Bicameralism, as provided for the colonies, was undoubtedly due to an instinctive notion, in both Britain and Australia, that it was the best model, or, as Henry Parkes put it ‘the wisest, the safest, the best’. Pakington suggested these constitutions provide for bicameral legislatures with elected Lower Houses, (in effect responsible government) though he did not specify either election or nomination for the upper houses. He knew the British Government would have the final say. 11 9 An Act for the Better Government of Her Majesty’s Australian Colonies, 1850, Section XXXII. 10 Anna Munyard, ‘Making a Polity’ in Dean Jaensch, ed, The Flinders History of South Australia: Political History, (Adelaide: Wakefield Press, 1986), p.68. 11 Parkes, Speeches, p.356. The idea was further strengthened by deference to the British Government, whose approval was necessary for the legal validity of the independence of the colonies. For example, instructions from London in a Despatch from the Colonial Secretary to the New South Wales Governor (Sir Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 100 Charles FitzRoy) in 1853, contained an extract from a Report from the Select Committee on the New Constitution, (1853) which directed that: Her Majesty’s Principal Secretary of State for the Colonies has recorded it as his opinion, speaking of course, on behalf of the Imperial Government, that it is the conviction of Parliament, that, in regard to all points affecting internal Government in the Colonies having local representation, the general principles common to Great Britain and her Colonies must be applied. (my emphasis)12 On this basis the NSW Legislative Council was given the task of drafting a constitution to provide for responsible government. The resulting Constitution provided for a bicameral parliament with an elected lower house, the Legislative Assembly, and a nominated upper house, the Legislative Council. For the Council a minimum of 21 members, nominated by the Governor was specified but, crucially, no upper limit; in fact 32 members took their seats at the first sitting. 13 The first members of the new Council were appointed for five years. Five years later members were to be appointed for life. There were no specific property qualifications for appointment, the only condition being that members had to be at least twenty-one years of age and male, but those selected to serve as Councillors tended to be prominent, wealthy and older citizens with conservative views.14 The powers of the two houses were to be equal except that only the Assembly could originate money bills but there was no prohibition on the Council amending or rejecting them. All Bills had to be passed by both Houses before they could be sent to the Governor for assent.15 12 ‘Report of the Select Committee on the Changes in Administration under the new Constitution Act of 1853; Despatch from Lord John Russell’, in Documents relating to Constitution of Responsible Government in New South Wales, p.11. Held in Archives of New South Wales, Parliament House, Sydney. 13 Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', p.27. 14 Parliament of New South Wales, 'History of the New South Wales Legislative Council', (Sydney: Parliament of New South Wales, nod.) p.4. 15 Constitution of New South Wales, 1855, Section 1, p.407. In these matters the drafters of the Federal Constitution showed little imagination in their work, emulating almost to the letter the Constitution of the oldest Colony, except that the Federal upper house would not have the power of amending money bills. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 101 Nomination of the upper house, or Council, was agreed to even though the Select Committee found the instructions from the Duke of Newcastle, then Colonial Secretary, to ‘admit of some latitude of discretion on this most important subject’. However it found no reason to depart from the ‘Declaration and Remonstrance of 5th They desire to have a form of Government based on the analogies of the British Constitution. They have no wish to sow the seeds of a future democracy. But the object they have in view is … placing a safe, revising, deliberative, and conservative element between the Lower House and Her Majesty’s Representative in this Colony, they do not feel inclined to hazard the experiment of an Upper House based on a general Elective Franchise. They are less disposed to make the experiment as such a Franchise, if once created, will be difficult to be recalled. December, 1851’ drawn up by the colonists and agreed to by Sir John Pakington, Colonial Secretary, on 15 December 1852, and which included provision for a nominated Legislative Council: 16 That Act authorises the Crown, whenever it thinks proper to confer any hereditary title of rank, or dignity, to annex thereto an hereditary right of being summoned to the Legislative Council. It was also in this report that the creation of a colonial version of the aristocracy was seriously canvassed: 17 Here was clearly laid down the raison d’etre in the minds of the legislators for an upper house: to buffer the colony from the presumed hasty, or ill-considered, legislation that might be passed by an elected lower house, and it was this fear that persuaded the Councillors to decide that the members of the new Legislative Council be nominated. An elected upper house would give too much influence to popular power, and ‘a society which accepted that men naturally fitted for the Legislative Council should be offered a place in it would be safe from democracy.’ 18 16 Report of the Select Committee on the Changes in Administration under the new Constitution Act of 1853. 17 Ibid. 18 J.B. Hirst, The Strange Birth of Colonial Democracy: New South Wales 1848-1884, (Sydney: Allen and Unwin, 1988), p.36. This principle, suggested but not imposed by the Imperial Government, lies at the heart of all Australian Colonial Upper Houses and was Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 102 clung to, in spite of changing views on democracy since 1832, upon the establishment of the Federal Senate in 1901. The new Constitution for New South Wales was passed by the British Parliament in 1855. The idea of a hereditary right to sit in the Council, though seriously considered, was eventually rejected and the new Parliament first sat on 22 May 1856.19 The record of the Legislative Council of New South Wales is one of discord and conflict with the Legislative Assembly. On several occasions it defeated measures brought forward by the Government, and attempts to reconstruct, or abolish it, began in 1860 when the Council defeated Premier William Forster’s bill to reconstruct the upper house.20 The issue came to a head in 1861 when the Council refused to pass Robertson's Land Bill, an important legislative measure. This brought about the tactic of ‘swamping the House’ by Premier Charles Cowper. The tactic was to request the Governor to appoint new councillors in order to allow the legislation to pass. In this instance twenty-three new appointments were made. The Governor, John Young, received a stern rebuke from the Colonial Office for consenting to this measure, with the instruction that, in future, disputed legislation should not be allowed to pass by these means.21 In spite of this admonition the strategy was used subsequently and the number of Councillors tended upward. By 1861 good sense began to prevail as Councillors came to realise that conservative, resistant to change, obstructive behaviour was not in the best interests of good government. Fears that unreasonable hostility could lead to its abolition, also probably persuaded the Council to gradually become less controversial and accept that the elected House was supreme in money matters. Reform of the Council itself, however, was consistently rejected and by 1900 eight attempts at reconstituting the Council had failed.22 19 Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', p.27. 20Lynn Lovelock, ‘A History of Controversy over the role and functions of the Legislative Council’, The Parliamentarian, Issue 2, New South Wales, 2005, p.48. 21 J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers - an Inductive Study in Political Science, New, revised and part rewritten ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1927), p.156. 22 ‘The Council Under Threat’, in Role and History of NSW Legislative Council, 1999, p.5. www.parliament.nsw.gov.au. Accessed 11 December, 2008. http://www.parliament.nsw.gov.au/� Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 103 As noted above, in early Australian examples, Councils modelled on the British House of Lords toyed with the idea of establishing an aristocracy, as provided for in the Act of 1851. Canada had already set the example with a serious proposal to do this in 1791. John Graves Simcoe (the first Lieutenant Governor of Upper Canada from 1791-1796) believed that the province should be made 'as nearly as may be a perfect image and transcript of the British Government and Constitution'.23 The idea was ridiculed in Britain by Charles James Fox, a prominent Whig politician, as ‘a kind of second-rate, half-hearted House of Lords in the wild woodland’.24 The provision remained in the Constitution despite such derision but was probably the reason it was never implemented. This scenario was repeated in New South Wales in 1853 and equally ridiculed as a ‘Bunyip Aristocracy’. The full accounts of these colonial aristocratic aspirations are to be found in Martin’s comprehensive history, The Bunyip Aristocracy.25 Victoria is the smallest of the mainland Australian states in land area but one of the most populous, as it was at the time of the Federal Conventions. It was also a Here it serves to illustrate the reliance some colonial legislators placed upon British heritage and imperial rule in establishing their versions of an upper house. The instructions from the Colonial Office provide an eloquent illustration of the way the Imperial government viewed the development of self-government in its Australian Colonies. It also explains why the Colonies followed the British example. It was not only a matter of copying the mother country but recognition of the need to gain British approval for the new constitutions, all grounded in an instinctive feeling of the superiority of the system. The question is: would Britain have accepted a unicameral legislature for New South Wales if a serious proposal had been made? As a serious alternative was never proposed it is a question for conjecture, but the answer for the colonies is perhaps not, but for the Federal House, perhaps. 23 Ged Martin, Bunyip Aristocracy, (Sydney: Croom Helm, 1986), p.27. 24 W.R. Wilson, Historical Narratives of Early Canada, 2004. http://www.uppercanadahistory.ca/pp/pp1.html. Accessed 17 June 2008. 25 Martin, Bunyip Aristocracy. http://www.uppercanadahistory.ca/pp/pp1.html� Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 104 wealthy and fertile colony and regarded as one of the strongest states. It began in the 1830s when illegal squatters began to move into the area which was originally part of New South Wales.26 The district was then governed from Sydney and in 1836 was officially recognised as the Port Phillip District. By 1835 a community had been founded and a small but steady stream of settlers moved into the district and the settlement gradually grew into the city of Melbourne. The colony was not settled under official auspices but owed its origin to immigrants from Van Diemen’s Land, where good land was becoming scarce and ‘every Tasmanian (sic) knew that attractive land lay on the other side of the Bass Strait’.27 Many enterprising pastoralists from Van Diemen’s Land flouted the ‘law which placed the northern mainland out of bounds’ and settled there.28 A Superintendent, Charles La Trobe, was appointed in 1839 as the Crown’s principle representative in the district, responsible to the Governor of New South Wales. The Port Phillip pioneers soon found that administration from faraway Sydney was unsatisfactory and, feeling they could better manage their own affairs began to call for independence. In response, in 1843, the district was given representation of six members in the Legislative Council of New South Wales. This also proved unsatisfactory as the Council consistently favoured New South Wales in its decisions and, in terms of time and money, the distance was too great an obstacle for the local Council representatives. As the district continued its development, calls for independence grew stronger. This eventually came with the Proclamation of the Imperial Act on 13 January 1850 ‘for the better Government of Her Majesty's Australian Colonies’ which permitted the creation of three self governing colonies: Van Diemen’s Land, South Australia and Victoria.29 As a result of this Act Victoria was separated from New South Wales on 1 July 1851, and proceeded to enact its provisions, which called first for the establishment 26 A detailed account of early settlement can be found in A.G.L. Shaw, A History of the Port Phillip District: Victoria Before Separation, (Melbourne, Melbourne University Press, 1996), pp.32–43. 27 Geoffrey Blainey, A History of Victoria, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2006), p.17. 28 Geoffrey Serle, The Golden Age, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1963), p.1. 29 The name of Van Diemen’s’ Land was changed to Tasmania in 1855; see Terry Newman, Becoming Tasmania: renaming Van Diemen’s Land, (Hobart, Parliament of Tasmania, 2005), p.137. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 105 of a Legislative Council. Writs for the election of the first Legislative Council of Victoria were issued on 1 July 1851 and polling took place on 11 and 18 September 1851. As laid down in the Act the first Victorian Legislative Council was a part elected and part nominated body, which first met on 11 November 1851. There were thirty members: twenty elected on a stringent property franchise and the remainder appointed by the Lieutenant Governor, Charles La Trobe.30 The Council remained as a unicameral legislature until 1856 and was responsible for drafting a new Constitution to provide the framework for responsible government. The Constitution was drafted by a ‘Constitution Commission of the Legislative Council’ set up after Colonial Secretary of State, John Pakington, had indicated by despatch on 15 December 1852 that ‘it would not be inappropriate for the Council to develop a Constitution’.31 One of the principal issues for the Select Committee of the Legislative Council, set up in 1853, was what form the upper house should take. There were three possibilities: a fully nominated Council as in New South Wales, a part elected, part nominated Council as in Victoria since 1851, or a fully elected house in keeping with the strengthening democratic attitudes. These were becoming more evident since the disruptions on the Victorian goldfields in 1854, though they were balanced by many who believed property ownership was a necessary prerequisite for moral and political leadership. 32 The Select Committee recommended that: ‘The upper house was to consist of the educated, wealth (sic) and more especially the settled interests of the country—that portion of the community naturally indisposed to rash and hasty measures’.33 30 R.D. Lumb, The Constitutions of the Australian States, (St. Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 1972), p.25. 31 Raymond Wright, A People's Counsel: A History of the Parliament of Victoria 1856–1990, (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1992), p.15. 32 R. Wright, 'The Legislative Council: Retain, Reform or Abolish', (Melbourne: Victorian Parliamentary Library, 1984), 33 Geoffrey Serle, 'The Victorian Legislative Council, 1856–1950', Historical Studies: Australia and New Zealand, 1954, p.186. In the event the Council was a compromise. It was to be an elected body, but on stringent membership and voter eligibility criteria to Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 106 ensure members were prosperous and responsible citizens who would act as a sobering influence on the popularly elected and less responsible Lower House.34 In this election, held in the spring of 1856, Victoria blazed a trail in introducing the secret ballot—a world-first—and providing for a fully elected upper house. With these exceptions the Constitution was in traditional form, structured on traditional lines. It laid down that there were to be two houses, as in the ‘mother country’: a lower house, the Legislative Assembly and an upper house, the Legislative Council. The Legislative Council was assigned two major responsibilities in the Constitution as recommended by the Select Committee: to protect the interests of the propertied, the wealthy and the educated and act as a house of review and a restraint on the inevitably more ‘radical’ Assembly. 35 Membership for the new Council was set at thirty, five for each of the six Provinces; members were to be male and aged over 30 years; their full term of office was ten years, or twice that of the members of the Assembly. Six members were to retire every two years to be replaced with new members, which meant that the house was indissoluble; they were not paid and property qualifications were stringent for both electors and members. The Select Committee of 1853 recommended that ‘a high freehold qualification should be required … to ensure ... that it may consist of men who may reasonably be expected to possess education, intelligence and leisure to devote to public affairs’. 36 Its powers were equal with the Assembly except it could not originate money bills, though, unusually, the power to reject money bills was formalised.37 34 The Legislative Council: Retain, Reform or Abolish? Victorian Parliamentary Paper, 84/1. 35 Ibid., p.2. 36 Serle, 'The Victorian Legislative Council, 1856–1950', p.186. 37 Constitution of Victoria, 1855, Section LVI. There was no procedure for the resolution of deadlocks. It was considered normal parliamentary processes would deal with these. All Bills had to be passed by both houses before they could be presented to the Governor for assent and there were provisions for alterations to the Constitution, which had to be passed by an absolute majority in both houses. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 107 The restrictive qualifications, the deliberate decision not to provide any deadlock mechanisms, and the fact that it was to be ‘indissoluble’ reinforced the definition and public image of the Council as a powerful force for conservatism. Only in the restriction on money bills were its powers limited. The first elected bicameral Parliament of Victoria assembled on 25 November 1856, just six months after the first sitting of the New South Wales Parliament on 22 May 1856.38 The Council took full advantage of its powers and the 1860s and 1870s saw numerous clashes between the two houses. From the outset Bills were either rejected outright or passed by the Council only after significant compromises had been extracted from the Assembly. Education, land, mining, protection, direct taxation, payment of members were just some of the legislative issues rejected, delayed or emasculated by the Council. Supply was rejected in 1865-7, and 1877, and deadlocks became a feature of Victorian Parliamentary practice. 39 Under these pressures Government became unstable and changed hands twenty-nine times between 1856 and 1901.40 South Australia was not a breakaway from New South Wales but was established in 1834 as a free colony under the South Australia Act. The Act included a promise of representative Government when the population reached 50,000. From the beginning South Australian colonists were committed to democracy and representative government and had a strong sense of being different from the other colonies because they had never accepted convicts. When they came to draft their first constitution in the 1850s they could have been influenced by their difference and history, but the end result was not so very different from the other colonies. This then, was the parliamentary background that the Victorian delegates took with them to the Federal Conventions. 41 38 Wright, A People's Counsel: A History of the Parliament of Victoria 1856–1990, pp.110-111. 39 Retain, Reform or Abolish, p.2. 40 Parliament of Victoria, Historical Overview, Parliament of Victoria, http://www.parliament.vic.gov.au/hist.html. Accessed 5 August 2008. 41 Lumb, The Constitutions of the Australian States, p.29. http://www.parliament.vic.gov.au/hist.html� Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 108 The first settlers arrived in South Australia in 1836 and the first Government was established under Governor Hindmarsh, appointed by the British Government. The new settlers had no official voice in how they were governed and, as in other Colonies, the Governor ruled with the assistance of an appointed Executive Council. In 1851 the Imperial Act of 1850 authorised South Australia, as in New South Wales and Victoria, to form a partly elected, partly nominated, legislative council for the Colony and to draw up a constitution providing for a bicameral system and responsible government, subject to British government approval.42 In accordance with the suggestions in the despatch from Pakington in 1852, and as occurred in New South Wales and Victoria, a Select Committee of the Council was established which recommended the formation of a bicameral legislature. Both houses were to be elective and electors for the Council had to satisfy property qualifications. The Council was established in 1851. It comprised twenty-four members, eight of whom were nominated by the Crown and sixteen returned by the electors of sixteen electoral districts, who had to meet a property qualification. This hybrid Council of appointed and elected Members continued as the unicameral Legislature of South Australia until the inauguration of responsible Government in 1857. 43 The first Legislative Council in 1857 was elected by the whole colony voting as one district and there were eighteen members. As in Victoria voting was by secret ballot. Councillors were to be male and aged over 30 years, their term of office was twelve years with six members retiring every four years, to be replaced by newly In 1855–56 the Legislative Council passed the Constitution Bill, which was proclaimed on 24 October 1856 by the Governor, Sir Richard Graves- MacDonnell. The form of the new Parliament was the traditional structure of two houses: a lower house, the Legislative Assembly and an upper house, the Legislative Council. The bicameral Parliament of South Australia first met on Wednesday, 22 April 1857, just five months after the new Victorian Parliament and less than a year after the New South Wales Parliament. 42 Ibid., p.31. 43 Munyard ‘Making a Polity’ in Jaensch, The Flinders History of South Australia: Political History, p.67. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 109 elected members and it was to be indissoluble;44 Members of the Council were not paid; the Council’s powers were equal to those of the Assembly except it could not originate money bills; all Bills had to pass both Houses before being presented to the Governor for Assent and there were no provisions for the resolution of deadlocks. There was no ruling on the subject of amendment or rejection of money bills, which quickly became a bone of contention.45 The male franchise of the Council was based on a property qualification which was lower than for the Victorian upper house, making for a wider franchise in the colony though still limiting it to the more prosperous and leisured members of society. This was in effect, as Griffith and Srinivasan have argued: ‘the price to be paid for the support of conservative opinion which saw the Council as protecting the rights of property, and especially rural property, against possible incursions by those who had little’. 46 The imbalance of powers caused a dispute on the first day of the new Parliament when the Council amended a money bill as it would an ordinary bill. The Assembly contended that the Council had no right to amend money bills but could only pass or reject them. The dispute was partly resolved by a ‘compact’ in 1857, which was adopted by resolutions of both houses. 47 every session of parliament after 1857 was replete with disagreements between the houses, conferences of managers and the application of a veto by the Legislative Council. The compact defined those Bills (all money Bills) that the Council could not amend in the ordinary way but allowed the Council to ‘suggest’ amendments in such Bills except Appropriation Bills. This did not stop the bickering and as Dean Jaensch commented: 48 Just as in Victoria, the South Australian government was chronically unstable and there were forty different ministries between 1857 and 1893. 49 44 Constitution of South Australia, Section 2. 45 Ibid., Section 1. 46 Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', p.9. 47 P.A. Howell, ‘Constitutional and political development, 1857–1890’; in Jaensch, The Flinders History of South Australia: Political History, p.164. 48 Cited in Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', p.9. Like their Victorian Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 110 and New South Wales counterparts the South Australian delegates also failed to take lessons from their experiences. By 1881 the continuous dissension between the houses forced some changes in the Council: membership was increased from eighteen to twenty-four and the previous single, whole-State electorate was divided into four six-member districts.50 More importantly, also in 1881, the first provision in Australia for dealing with deadlocks, either by a double dissolution of the Parliament or by the creation of two new members for each of the new districts of the Legislative Council, was added to the Constitution. It was as Griffith and Srinivasan have commented a ‘convoluted mechanism’ which other observers saw as being there to preserve the power of the upper house.51 R.L. Reid, an Australian political scientist, thought that 'any Government would shrink from involving itself in the protracted “deadlock” clauses of the constitution, particularly in view of the fact that at the end of the process it might be no better off than before'.52 The mechanism has never been used but remains in force in substantially the same form to this day, under Section 41 of the ‘Constitution Act 1934’.53 Changes after 1881 came in 1887 when Parliament passed an Act to give all Members of Parliament a salary of £200 a year, which opened up Parliament and political life to ordinary wage earners, and in 1894 the South Australian Parliament granted women with the necessary qualifications the right to vote for both Houses of Parliament. 54 49 Howell, ‘Constitutional and political development, 1857–1890’; pp.92, 108. 50 Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', p.9. 51 R.L. Reid, 'The Government of South Australia', in The Government of Australian States, ed. S.R. Davis (London: Longmans, 1960), pp.373-4. 52 S.R. Davis, ed., The Government of Australian States (London: Longmans, 1960), pp.373-4. 53 Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan ‘State Upper Houses in Australia’, p.9. Jaensch has argued ‘The constitutional amendment ensured the dominance of the Council … It is not surprising that the proposal was considered useless, and not surprising that the provisions were never initiated in the colonial period and have never been carried through since then’. Jaensch, The Flinders History of South Australia: Political History, p.372. 54 John Quick and Robert Garran, The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth, 1995 ed. (Sydney: Legal Books 1901), pp.64–7. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 111 South Australian delegates came to the 1897 Convention from a Parliament where the Council or upper house had twenty-four members elected by four districts with six members each who were paid £200 a year. Voting was by secret ballot. Councillors were required to be male and aged over 30 years, their minimum term of office was six years and half the members retired every three years, or at each election. By this means, as in other Colonies, the Council was to be indissoluble. The Council’s powers were equal with the House of Assembly except it could not initiate or amend money bills, but it could send suggestions for amendments to such bills.55 This procedure was unique to South Australia and was to be adopted for the Federal Constitution. It is possible that the idea was drawn from Section 28 of the Act which allowed the Governor to transmit a message to the Council or the Assembly ‘suggesting’ amendments to a Bill presented to him for assent. This also appears in the Victorian Act in Section 36, but does not appear to have ever been used. Winthrop Hackett mentioned it at the 1891 Convention, so it was not unknown. Though he commented that ‘under most of our constitutions, he [the Governor] can communicate—I do not say as to money bills, but as to other legislation—by message any amendment he thinks it desirable to make in a bill after it has passed both houses’ the provision does not appear in any other Constitution.56 Tasmania is Australia’s second oldest settlement. It was established in September 1803 as Van Diemen’s Land and, until 1812, was divided into two counties administered from Sydney. In 1812 Colonel Thomas Daley was appointed first Lieutenant Governor of the whole Colony and on 3 December 1825 the island became a Colony in its own right. A Warrant constituting a single chamber parliament, a Legislative Council, was proclaimed at Hobart by Governor Darling of As in other Constitutions, all Bills had to be passed by both houses before they could be presented to the Governor for Assent but, again unique to South Australia, there was a complicated procedure to break deadlocks that, for all practical purposes, was unworkable. 55 A full account of the adoption of the suggestions procedure is to be found in Boyle Travers Finniss, The Constitutional History of South Australia: During Twenty-One Years, (Adelaide, London: Rigby, Simpkin, Marshall & Co, 1886), Chapter XIII. 56 OR, 6 April 1891, p.742. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 112 New South Wales. At the same time he proclaimed the Island’s administrative independence from New South Wales.57 There is an essentially democratic spirit which actuates the large mass of the community and it is with a view to check that spirit, of preventing it coming into operation, that I would suggest the formation of an Upper Chamber. From 1825 the Colony was governed by a Lieutenant Governor, Colonel Sir George Arthur, and a Legislative Council of six members. In 1828 the Council was increased to fifteen: eight official nominees and six people’s nominees with the Governor presiding. In March 1848 the Governor, Sir William Denison, suggested to English authorities that the Colony ought to have two representative Chambers. He did so because he felt that: 58 As Griffith says, this was a view firmly grounded in the class model of bicameralism and echoed the views of other Colonies in their desire for an upper house, though an underlying reason was to give the House a more permanent nature and to reflect a high property franchise. 59 Townsley considered it was also ‘to guard against hasty and inconsiderate legislation by securing due deliberation previous to the final adoption of any legislative measure’. Governor Denison’s proposal however, was rejected by the Colonial office as an ‘untried form of constitution’.60 As in other colonies, in response to the Imperial Act of 1850, the Council was increased again in 1851 to twenty-four members and its composition changed to a partly elected and partly nominated membership: sixteen elected by restricted property franchise and eight nominated by the Governor, who now ceased to be a member. 61 57 Carrel Inglis Clark, The Parliament of Tasmania: An Historical Sketch, (Tasmania: H.H. Pimblett, Government Printer, 1947), p.7. 58 W.A. Townsley, Struggle for Self-government in Tasmania 1842-1856, (Hobart: L.G. Shea, Government Printer, Tasmania, 1951), p.134. 59 Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', p.13. 60 Townsley, The Struggle for Self-Government in Tasmania: 1842-1856, p.144. 61 Clark, The Parliament of Tasmania: An Historical Sketch, p.10. In furtherance of other provisions of this Act, in 1854 a select committee of the Legislative Council presented a report and a draft constitution that recommended the creation of a bicameral Parliament. There were very serious Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 113 discussions in the Committee’s report, including a prolix and protracted explanation of why the Committee had not considered the establishment of a peerage. The usual compelling reasons were put forward and embellished with the comment that ‘all proposals for a Colonial Peerage … have been met with derision’. This led to the decision to establish an elected upper chamber.62 This time the Imperial Government did not demur. The Act received Royal Assent on May 1, 1855, the island was renamed Tasmania in the same year and responsible government was established in 1856. The new bicameral Parliament met for the first time on 2 December 1856.63 The new Legislative Council of Tasmania had fifteen members elected from single- member divisions and the number was increased from fifteen to nineteen by 1898. The franchise for the Council was manhood suffrage at the age of twenty-one with a property qualification requiring a ‘freehold estate of the annual value of fifty pounds sterling money’. 64 According to Griffith, the Council’s relationship with the Assembly was a stormy one. One month after the opening of the first parliament in December 1856, a disagreement over money bills led to a ‘Managers’ Conference’ to define the powers and duties of both houses with respect to the problem of supply. The Conference failed. The problems did not go away and in 1899 the Government prepared a case for the Privy Council in London on relative powers, but leave to Members of the Council had to be thirty years of age, the term of office was nine years with five members retiring every three years and five new members elected. The Council could not be dissolved. The powers of the two houses were equal except that only the Assembly could originate money Bills, a provision that, as in other Constitutions, soon caused dissent. 62 Ibid., p.32. 63 Peter Bennison, 'Parliament of Tasmania: A Brief Historical Overview: On the Occasion of the Sesquicentenary of Bicameral Parliament and Responsible Government, 2 December 2006', (Hobart: Parliament of Tasmania, 2006), p.1. Terry Newman, Becoming Tasmania, p.137. 64 Constitution of Tasmania, Section VI. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 114 have the case heard was refused.65 Queensland’s capital city of Brisbane was established in 1825 as a penal settlement for more difficult convicts. It officially closed in 1839 and the land prepared for sale to permanent settlers. This then was the situation in Tasmania when it sent delegates to the Federal Conventions. Queensland was the only colony to have a parliament from its inception—on separation from New South Wales on 6 June 1859. The New South Wales Constitution Act 1855 had provided the legal framework to establish representative government in Queensland from the time the new Colony was created in 1859. 66 As the economy grew and the population expanded, a separate sense of identity emerged and the people began to recognise the importance of Brisbane as a port and urban centre. The physical remoteness of the colony from the centre of government in New South Wales caused dissatisfaction with the administration and calls for self-government arose. In 1851 a public meeting was held to urge separation from New South Wales and petitions in favour of separation from the parent colony were signed and forwarded to the Imperial Government. However it was not until 1859 that separation was granted.67 Queensland’s Parliament was established under an Imperial Order-in-Council in 1859, prescribing the ‘establishment of a legislature therein … as nearly resembling the form of Government and legislature which should be at that time established in New South Wales’ and including provision for an upper house, a Legislative Council and a lower house, a Legislative Assembly. 68 The new Legislative Council was to comprise ‘at least five’ male nominees, of twenty-one years of age, appointed by the Governor of New South Wales, Sir William Denison. They were to serve for five years and subsequent appointments were to be made for ‘the term of their natural lives’. There was no upper limit on the 65 Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', p.13. 66 Quick and Garran, The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth, p.72. 67 Ibid., p.73. 68 Order in Council empowering the Governor of Queensland to make laws, and to provide for the Administration of Justice in the said Colony, 6 June 1859. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 115 number of Councillors and Governor Denison appointed eleven members on 1 May 1860. Later that month the number was increased to fifteen. The powers of the two houses were to be equal except that all Bills appropriating public revenue, or imposing tax or impost, were to originate in the Assembly. All Acts had to be passed by both Houses before they could be presented to the Governor for Assent.69 First elections were held in 1860 and the Queensland Parliament first met on 22 May of that year.70 The initial concern of the first Governor, Sir George Bowen, and the first Premier, Robert Herbert, was finding an adequate number of suitable candidates for the Council, ‘for all the more active and influential politicians, desire seats in the Lower House’. Nor was the Governor convinced the nominee system was the best, although he thought that the Council ‘will prove an obstacle to any too hasty legislation’, thus echoing the view that the democratically elected lower house needed a restraining influence. 71 During the election campaign for the first Assembly, some politicians argued against an upper house. One of them saw it as ‘positively obstructive, and because the best men would choose to sit in the lower chamber it would become a refuge for the politically destitute’. 72 Calls for the abolition of the Council arose as early as 1861 and the Moreton Bay Courier joined this call, saying the Council was ‘a contemptible instrument of bad government and causes much unnecessary expense.’73 The Order-in-Council was an unsatisfactory document with somewhat vague provisions and in 1867 a ‘Bill to Consolidate the Laws relating to the Constitution of the Colony of Queensland’ was passed to clarify the powers of the Legislature. The Act did not greatly affect the powers of the Council: the power to originate money 69 Justin Harding, 'A Tale of Two Chambers: Bicameralism in Queensland 1860-85', Journal of the Royal Historical Society of Queensland, May 2000, p.48. 70 Charles Arrowsmith Bernays, Queensland Politics During Sixty (1859–1919) Years, (Brisbane: Queensland Government Printer, 1920?), p.7. 71 Harding, 'A Tale of Two Chambers', p.248. 72 Guardian (Ipswich), 28 April 1860. 73 Moreton Bay Courier, 19 May 1861. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 116 bills remained the prerogative of the Assembly and there was still silence on whether it could amend money Bills, so the difficulties continued until 1885; Councillors were still nominated for life and no limit was placed on their number. The number fluctuated as Premiers manipulated their ability to appoint new members and by 1864 there were twenty-three Councillors compared with twenty- six MLAs. There were calls for the Council to be elected but, as Harding commented, ‘It would be a strange Government … which voluntarily surrendered the possession of the ultimate sanction’. He also pointed out that events in Victoria in the 1860s and 1870s gave vivid demonstrations of the power an indissoluble and elected Chamber could wield.74 Despite the Bill to Consolidate the Laws relating to the Constitution of the Colony of Queensland, difficulties, which had begun early, continued over the issue of whether the Legislative Council had the right to amend money bills. As in other constitutions, both the Order-in-Council and the ‘Consolidation’ Bill had been silent on this issue and in 1885 the question was referred to the Privy Council in London. The gist of the wordy and pedantic request was: whether the Constitution Act of 1867 conferred on the Legislative Council powers co-ordinate with those of the Legislative Assembly in the amendment of all Bills, including money Bills; and whether the claims of the Legislative Assembly as set forth in their message of 12 November, were well founded? In an amazingly succinct response to the Queensland Parliament the Privy Council replied ‘the first of these questions should be answered in the negative and the second question in the affirmative’. In other words the Legislative Council did not have that right. 75 This then was the structure of the Queensland Council when the delegates attended the Federation Conference in 1890 and the Convention of 1891. Queensland failed to send delegates to the 1897–8 Convention, reflecting the inherent instability of its Governments. There was some participation in that 74 Harding, 'A Tale of Two Chambers', p.251. 75 A full account and the full text of these proceedings can be found in Bernays, Queensland Politics During Sixty (1859 - 1919) Years, pp.248-254. Harding, 'A Tale of Two Chambers', p.265. The Privy Council in London is a senior judicial body and for many years the highest court of appeal for Australian legal cases. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 117 convention however, in the person of Samuel Griffith, now Chief Justice of Queensland. He was consulted during the Adelaide proceedings and wrote to some delegates advising them to insist on the Senate’s right to amend money bills. Baker also sent him some reports and added ‘We miss you very much’. Griffith read all the public reports from Adelaide and wrote a criticism of the draft constitution in May 1897, distributing copies to the Queensland parliament and to members of the convention.76 The colony of Western Australia evolved from a concern in Sydney in 1826 that the French were showing interest in unoccupied parts of the Australian continent. In response to this concern Governor Darling sent Major Lockyer with a detachment of soldiers and convicts to occupy King George Sound with a view to taking possession of the western part of the continent. Accordingly, Captain James Stirling in HMS Success surveyed the coast from King George Sound to the Swan River and recommended it as suitable for settlement and the formation of a colony. On 1 June 1829, he arrived at Swan River in the Parmelia with 800 intending settlers. This is the date from which the colonial history of Western Australia commenced. 77 The constitutional origin of the colony is contained in the Imperial Act of 1829 and the first legislative body was a Legislative Council that first met on 7 February 1832, presided over by Stirling, who had been made Governor of the Colony. Stirling nominated four other members to assist him, though he was the final arbiter of legislation.78 The Western Australian economy was slow to develop and it was thought that the transportation of convicts to the colony could stimulate the economy by building roads and other public works. Accordingly, at the request of the Western Australian Colonial Administration, the first 75 convicts arrived in 1850. Their arrival delayed responsible government as the Imperial authorities would not approve a partly 76 Roger B. Joyce, Samuel Walker Griffith, (St Lucia: University of Queensland Press, 1984), pp.204-5. 77 Quick and Garran, The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth, p.67. 78 Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', p.23. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 118 elected Council because the convict system required the British Government to provide the bulk of expenses for the Colony. Transportation ceased in 1868.79 Western Australia was not mentioned in the Australian Constitutions Act of 1850 but from 1870 to 1890 a system of representative Government was developed in the same way as had occurred in other Colonies. In 1870 Government was by a Legislative Council of twelve elected members and six nominated by the Governor. 80 In 1889 the British Parliament enacted a Constitution passed by the Legislative Council of Western Australia. The Bill had to be referred to Britain for Royal Assent before it became operative because Western Australia had not been included in the 1850 Act. Delays in Britain prevented it from becoming law until 15 August 1890 and it came into operation on 21 October of that year.81 Under the Constitution the Parliament’s powers and functions were to be similar to the other colonies: ‘To this legislature it was proposed to give powers and functions similar to those of the eastern Colonies’.82 The new Constitution provided for a traditional bicameral Parliament. The upper house, the Legislative Council, was nominated by the Governor and comprised fifteen (male) members of at least twenty-one years of age. A property qualification applied to both houses. 83 In 1893, when the Colony’s population reached 60,000, and in accordance with the provisions of the 1890 Act, the Council became an elected body of twenty-one members with three members from each of seven provinces and there were restrictive voting qualifications.84 79 Brian de Garis, ‘Western Australia’, in Helen Irving ed., The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999, p.286. 80 Ibid., n.93. The full term of office was six years and, as was the practice in other Colonies, members were to retire in rotation—in Western Australia seven every two years. The powers of the two houses were equal except that only the Assembly could initiate money bills. All bills had to pass both Houses before they could be presented to the Governor for Assent and there were no deadlock provisions. There were further reforms in 1899 81 NAA, Documenting a Democracy, www.foundingdocs.gov.au. Accessed 5 September 2006. 82 Quick and Garran, The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth, p.70. 83 Constitution of Western Australia, Section 6, p.5. 84 Lumb, The Constitutions of the Australian States, p.40. http://www.foundingdocs.gov.au/� Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 119 but as these were not in place during the Conventions they will not be discussed here except to note that women were given the vote in 1899, soon after the matter was discussed at the 1897 Convention. These then were the Constitutions and upper houses with which the Convention delegates were familiar. That all upper houses or Legislative Councils had very similar structures was not surprising because they were all based upon the lines of the British Constitution and advice from Britain. What then were the experiences of the delegates of these structures and how, if at all, did they affect their decisions on the Federal Senate? Did they consider them to be a sound basis or model for the Federal Senate or did they seek to change the structure to avoid some of the problems of the colonial upper houses? To examine this I will turn to comments made by delegates to the Conventions about their Legislative Councils, to find how much they were influenced by their experiences in their Colonies. Special note has been made of those delegates who were, or had been, Councillors or Upper House members and those who were Assembly members, by adding MLC or MLA to their references. This is to establish what, if any, differences existed in their attitudes to the idea of an upper house in the Federal legislature. There is plenty of evidence of conflict in the Colonial Parliaments from 1856. In all of them the main bone of contention was the imbalance of power in regard to money bills. Samuel Griffith (MLA), a proponent of equal powers for both houses, commented in 1891 that the controversy over this imbalance was a fuss over nothing: There is no doubt that this idea of money bills is a fetish peculiar to Australia. It is a fetish which is not worshipped in any other part of the world; it is not worshipped even in the United Kingdom.85 The use of the words ‘worshipped’ and ‘fetish’ suggest strong feelings on the part of Griffith, yet the superior power of the lower house in regard to finances was a traditional feature of responsible government. It applied in all British colonies, including Queensland, as well as in the United Kingdom, though the British custom 85 OR, 17 March 1891, p.428. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 120 was not enshrined in a Constitution but operated as a convention. Griffith’s remark, coming from so eminent a personage, a QC, MLA and former Queensland Premier (1883–1888), serves to illustrate how the British Upper House and its customs were venerated, even if not always understood. Interestingly the major clash over the budget between the Houses of Parliament in Britain was still over two decades in the future. All the Australian colonial constitutions provided that only the lower house could originate money bills, but, except for Victoria where there was a provision for the upper house to reject money bills, they did not legislate against amendments or rejections; yet all Bills had to pass both houses before they could be sent to the Governor for Assent. This was interpreted by the Councils as giving them the power of rejection or amendment of money bills—a power used liberally in some but not all Colonies. The Legislatures, as has been shown, tried to deal with this problem in various ways. The South Australian Parliament made a ‘compact’ that the Council would not amend money bills but might send ‘suggestions’ for amendments to the Assembly; the Queensland Council appealed to the Privy Council in London to rule that it did have the power, but the appeal was refused; the Tasmanian Parliament tried a managers’ conference but it failed.86 La Nauze recognised there was serious conflict in Victoria where the power of rejection was legitimised and commented that the Victorian Parliament had a ‘history of bitter experience of clashes between their Assembly and Council’. 87 Arthur Berriedale Keith, a Colonial Office official from 1901 to 1914, and constitutional law scholar, also used the word bitter about Victoria when he argued that the conflicts there ‘have been the most prolonged and … with the most bitterness’.88 86 Griffith and Sharath Srinivasan, 'State Upper Houses in Australia', p.13. 87 J.A. La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1972), p.43. 88 Arthur Berriedale Keith, Responsible Government in the Dominions, (London: Stevens and Sons Limited, 1909), p.107. Lyne (MLA) also used the word in 1897 about the New South Wales Parliament: Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 121 What is the use of the machinery created in the first instance when the work of the house of representatives can be blocked: by the upper chamber? We have had bitter experience of that in this colony on more than one occasion. The work done after arduous labour by the Legislative Assembly has been absolutely vetoed by the Legislative Council. Will the hon. and learned member, Mr Barton, tell us that if work is done in the house of representatives which the senate has the power of vetoing, the senate will not exercise that power?89 Lyne’s comments present the argument succinctly and he was echoed several times by other delegates. The question of money bills was the most fiercely argued and the acrimony engendered by the question is a testimony to the difficulties the delegates had faced in the colonial parliaments on the same question. The sole power of originating such bills was conceded, reluctantly by some Convention delegates, to the lower house of the Federal Parliament so the most bitter arguments were centred upon whether the Senate could amend or reject them. In this respect the South Australian Parliament’s solution of giving the upper house the option of sending ‘suggestions’ for changes to these bills was seriously considered and eventually adopted. For the Federal Parliament amendments by the Senate to money bills were to be expressly prohibited by the Constitution but the ‘messages’ procedure was adopted and formalised as ‘requesting by message’ any amendment; outright rejection was not prohibited. 90 The idea of suggestions was first raised in 1891 by Edmund Barton (MLA) who seemed to think that the practice was also used in Tasmania, though I can find no evidence of this. Thomas Playford (MLA) and William McMillan (MLA) were at odds on the issue in 1891. Playford claimed that the idea had ‘worked for years’ in South Australia 91 while McMillan ridiculed it and emphasised that though it might be a ‘practice’, it had never been enacted.92 89 OR, 10 September 1897, p.354. 90 Australian Constitution, Section 53. 91 OR, 6 April 1891, p.719. 92 Ibid. ‘It was’ he said ‘the most clumsy, the most undignified, and the most humiliating procedure that could ever be enacted’. Bolton Stafford Bird (MLA) added to the argument saying that in Tasmania the upper house had considerable power in dealing with money bills but ‘no great evil’ had Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 122 ever come of the upper house amending such bills and he thought ‘it exceedingly strange’ that the delegates were unwilling to give the Senate more power in this regard.93 The argument about suggestions arose because the Constitutional Committee of the 1891 Convention had included the practice in its draft constitution. Playford, a member of the Committee, defended the idea saying ‘suggestions have been respectfully treated and considered by the lower house … after having been quietly and intelligently debated’. This suggests that in many cases (and parliaments) common sense prevailed, and though in Tasmania amendments were not formally prohibited, the attempted recourse to the Privy Council in 1899 suggests that perhaps all was not as harmonious as Bird implied. 94 Winthrop Hackett (MLC) thought the idea ‘given in the South Australian Constitution and exercised in Tasmania’ a good one and it had been adopted in Western Australia.95 A sour note was struck in the debate on suggestions when Richard Baker (MLC) contradicted his fellow South Australian, Thomas Playford (MLA), saying that the Council ‘never does make suggestions with respect to tariff or appropriation bills’. Hackett was scarcely accurate about either colony as it was not actually part of South Australia’s Constitution, as was forcibly pointed out by McMillan, nor was it a recognised procedure in Tasmania, and I have not been able to find any evidence of the procedure being invoked in the Western Australian Parliament. 96 93 Ibid., p.728. 94 Ibid., p.735. 95 Ibid. 96 Ibid., 6 April 1891, pp.719-734. This turned into a ‘yes/no’ argument between a Councillor and an MLA. Another South Australian, Charles Kingston (MLA), cut in on this argument saying suggestions had been made by the Council about loan bills. Baker would not have it, and commented bitterly if ‘ignoring suggestions is treating them respectfully, he is quite right’. This acerbic comment is perhaps more revealing than it sounds as it suggests that the system did not work to everyone’s satisfaction. The argument continued with John Bray (MLA) breaking in and saying he had a record of the Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 123 Council making suggestions about a tariff bill, twenty-five in all and all being accepted. The argument about money bills was carried on into the 1897 Convention when Edward Braddon (MHA) claimed that the Tasmanian Council had the right to amend money bills. In this he was correct in that the Tasmanian Constitution did not expressly prohibit amendments. He argued that the Senate should also have this right, as the Senate, which would be a fully elected body, could not be compared to the Councils.97 Were the delegates overly influenced by their colonial experiences in the argument on suggestions? The result, that the Senate was not given the power of amending money bills, only the power of rejection with the concession that it could send ‘suggestions’ for amendments to the lower house, indicates that they were certainly influenced but, after all the arguments, could only agree on a weak compromise to deal with the problem. The situation in the Colonies was that the Councils were only prevented from initiating money bills. That the power of amendment or rejection was not prohibited by most colonial Constitutions gave rise to the bitterness of the conflicts in the Colonial parliaments. The delegates were probably aware of the effect of the British 1832 Reform Act, which had forced the House of Lords to cede its power of amendment or rejection of money bills, even though this was never formally ‘enacted’. 98 It was not until 1911 that the superiority of the House of Commons over the House of Lords in Britain was formally recognised but that superiority had been informally recognised since the passing of the Reform Act of 1832.99 97 Ibid., 24 March 1897, p.63. 98 J.A. Marriott, English Political Institutions: An Introductory Study, (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1910), p.163. 99 Michael Rush, 'The House of Lords, the Political Context', in Paul Carmichael and Brice Dickson, eds. The House of Lords: Its Parliamentary and Judicial Roles (Oxford: Hart Publishing, 1999), p.7. As McMillan correctly asserted, the power of ‘suggestion’ was never in the South Australian Constitution, but the ‘compact’ arrangement in that Colony had the same effect. The question of amendment or rejection of money bills by the upper house had also been bitterly contested in Tasmania and Queensland, and Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 124 was one which a managers’ conference (Tasmania) and an appeal to the Privy Council (Queensland) had failed to settle. The conflicting merits of a nominated Senate and an elected Senate were fought out in the 1891 Convention. The conclusion was a decision for a nominated Senate—democracy still being seen as a threat. The idea of nomination did not please everyone and George Dibbs (MLA) perhaps expressed it best: I for a long time have believed in the existence of a nominee upper house. To-day I do not. To-day I believe in an elective upper house, and looking at our Colony—for that one's own colony is the place where we get the most experience—and seeing the appointments made from time to time by ministers in power of men utterly unfit to be senators or legislators, I think the time has arrived when that power should be taken out of the hands of ministers, and in some form left in the hands of the people.100 His experience was probably similar to that of other delegates, with the result that in 1897 the decision was made that the federal upper house should be elected, or it may have been the entry of the Labour party into politics that changed their thinking. In the 1897 Convention the matter was resolved without any further debate, though Josiah Symon still expressed reservations saying that he thought election by the State Legislatures in some respects would ‘be a very good thing’. 101 The other major issue that gave rise to serious debate based upon colonial experiences was whether women should be enfranchised for the Federal Parliament. South Australia led in this regard, having given its women the vote in The rejection of a nominated Senate and property qualifications for electors, and even the lower age qualification for the federal Senate, set at over 21 years, are all clear indications of the advance of democratic thinking, coupled with the experiences of the delegates in dealing with the difficulties caused by restrictive requirements on electors or parliamentarians, mainly property and age qualifications, which limited the pool of candidates for election and resulted often in a concentration of prominent, wealthy and conservative citizens in the Legislatures. 100 OR, 6 April 1891, p.752. 101 Ibid., 25 March 1897, pp.136-7. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 125 1894.102 Henry Higgins of Victoria claimed to be a ‘strong advocate’ of ‘womanhood suffrage’ but not yet and not for the Federation. Since then the enfranchisement of women had been debated in most Australian parliaments and at the 1897 Convention some delegates quoted examples in support of or against the issue, but though it had been debated or even considered, only in the South Australian Parliament had the idea got past the intransigent Council Members. 103 Suppose we adopt a Federal Constitution, which practically provides for manhood suffrage, can we expect to get the votes of those women in the first referendum to disfranchise themselves? This, claimed George Turner (MLA) ‘would shut women out’. The main arguments were pragmatic: that the states where women’s enfranchisement had already been rejected would not accept federation if women were to be given the federal vote, while South Australia, whose women had the vote, countered with the threat that South Australia would not join the Federation unless women were enfranchised for the new Parliament. The most cogent argument for women’s enfranchisement came from Frederick Holder (MLA) who said: 104 In the event a practical solution was reached: for Federation electors would be the same as they were for each of the more numerous houses of the States, that is the lower houses, ‘until Parliament otherwise provides’. This at least left the door open for women’s enfranchisement on a Federal level by the new Parliament. In 1902 women were eventually given the right to vote in Federal elections. The States Women in South Australia had voted for delegates to the 1897 Convention and would be qualified to vote for the proposed Constitution. Perhaps some delegates had forgotten this. 102 Audrey Oldfield, Woman Suffrage in Australia: A Gift or a Struggle? (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1992) p.39. 103 OR, 25 March 1897, p.104. 104 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.150. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 126 followed with NSW in 1902, Tasmania in 1903, Queensland in 1904, and finally Victoria in 1908.105 The delegates did not specifically introduce their own legislatures into the debates very frequently, nor were there noticeable differences in the attitudes of members of the upper and lower houses except in the exchange on how suggestions were handled in South Australia’s Parliament. This is probably because the parliaments were all so similar and so familiar. The long discussion on ‘suggestions’ where South Australia had broken the mould, was the most fiercely argued in relation to colonial comparisons. The ‘suggestions’ idea was the only one that was adopted from one colony’s approach to the problems of disputes over money bills. As deadlock provisions were not in place in most colonies—and where they were they were difficult to use—the provision of a procedure for dealing with deadlocks was one of the few major points of difference between the structure of the Legislative Councils and the proposed Federal Senate. The fact that, as we have seen, many delegates were all too familiar with the difficulties caused by intractable upper houses but still prescribed a bicameral Parliament for the putative nation, is worth lingering over. On one level it is an unambiguous example of the heart ruling the head. Clearly the force of tradition was too strong to resist. The theory of path dependence allows us to consider this force in more analytical terms. In this chapter it can be seen that the delegates constructed a constitution that reflected their experiences and heritage with only slight deviations from the path set out in their own legislatures, and even from medieval times. Departures from the beaten path, for example manhood election of Senators, are as much due to the strengthening forces of democracy in British based legislatures as to the enlightened debate in the Conventions. Colonial Parliaments represented a path dependence from which it was difficult to stray, regardless of their acknowledged problems. Moreover, for all their faults, upper houses were a powerful bulwark for those who were haunted by the prospect of majority rule. Having said that, this chapter shows that some delegates were not acutely familiar with their own Western Australia had enfranchised its women in 1899. 105 Helen Irving, ed., The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, p.375. Chapter 4: The Wisest, the Safest, the Best 127 Parliaments and practices and in their occasional references to them they often got it wrong. Their less than perfect knowledge did not deter them from embracing the precedents and in the structure of the future Senate they replicated the difficulties of the Colonial Constitutions. This suggests that the most potent motivating force in their decisions to create a Senate in the image of the Colonial Houses was more emotional than intellectual. The result was that overall the configuration of the new Parliament and its upper house, after months of debate, was to be in the same pattern as the old. In this the Federation Conventions can be seen as a ‘critical juncture framework’ as outlined by Ruth and David Collier.106 106 Ruth Berins Collier and David Collier, Shaping the Political Arena, (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1991), p.29. From their British heritage to their modern colonial experiences the delegates were emotionally driven to conform to the traditional format with only a few departures from the ‘norm’. This chapter has shown that the six Australian colonial upper houses were strong precedents for the structure of the Federal upper house. They were immediate and familiar models, but the historical traditions which added substance to the views of the delegates can be traced back even further, to the ancient world and later Britain and Europe. Many delegates were aware of the wider world and brought their experiences into their thinking on the structure of a future Senate. These influences will be elaborated upon in the following chapter, which will look at the role other and older models in Europe played in defining the structure of the Australian Senate. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 128 Chapter 5 The Lamp of Experience Historians old and new have, implicitly and explicitly, suggested that ‘models’ were influential in shaping the Australian Constitution, particularly in relation to the Senate. Some invoke ancient Rome and Greece; most refer to the United States’ Senate and the British House of Lords; others suggest that the Australian colonial parliaments were the primary models. Here, for example, is what the seminal Australian constitutional historians Quick and Garran (1901) said on the topic of the Australian Constitution: [It] … is an adaptation of the principles of British and colonial government to the federal system. Its language and ideas are drawn, partly from the model of all modern governments, the British Constitution itself; partly from the colonial Constitutions based on the British model; partly from the federal Constitution of the United States of America; and partly from the semi-federal Constitution of the Dominion of Canada; the Constitution of the Commonwealth, therefore, is not an isolated document. It has been built on traditional foundations. Its roots penetrate deep into the past.1 La Nauze concentrated on the structure of the Constitution as a whole, but drew on Inglis Clark’s draft of 1891 to emphasise the United States Senate as the major model for the Australian Senate. ‘For the composition of his Senate Clark followed the American model’. This is the conclusion in a nutshell. However, it is only a conclusion; the authors do not specify the reasoning behind the statement. 2 1 John Quick and Robert Garran, The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth, 1995 ed. (Sydney: Legal Books 1901), p.vii. 2 J.A. La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1972), pp.25-27. In contrast to Quick & Garran, La Nauze made no reference to ancient regimes or to the British House of Lords. Erling M. Hunt, an American Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 129 commentator, clearly saw the United States as the major model for the Australian Senate. This much is evident from the title of his book, though he does not see the Senate as a ‘slavish copy’ of the American model. He tells us that Canada, Switzerland, the German Empire, and Norway were also referred to in relation to certain issues such as the referendum, the composition of the Senate, and deadlock provisions.3 Separate chambers date from ancient times and the original purpose was to allow representation of different groups of interests and classes. They were a device to allow sections of society, other than the elite or nobility, a voice in government. The privilege was still limited to the more prosperous and powerful citizens but the device of separate chambers contributed to a more acceptable and therefore more stable government. Ancient Greek philosophers, including Aristotle, advocated such a ‘mixed’ government and it has influenced parliamentary philosophy on a global scale and for many centuries. The ancient Greek and Roman examples were a strong influence on the evolution of modern federations and Meg Russell, in her discussion of the origins of second chambers, notes that the ‘existence of multi-chamber parliaments may be traced back to ancient Greece and Rome’. She These are examples of the general position of historians on the subject of precedents for the Australian Senate; but it is not the whole story. In fact, there has not been a systematic discussion of upper house models explored by the delegates themselves before they made their decisions on the structure of the Senate. The obvious models, the Australian colonial upper houses, have been discussed in the previous chapter. The following two chapters ask: what other models were discussed in the Convention debates and what issues were they introduced in relation to? I will argue that the Senate was not just a ‘Washminster’ hybrid; it drew on various models from the ancient and modern worlds. This chapter will examine models from the ancient world and modern Britain and Europe. 3 E.M. Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, (New York: Columbia University Press; London P.S. King, Ltd., 1930), pp.15-16. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 130 saw the Athenian people’s chamber, which comprised representatives from each of the ten tribes, as a precursor of modern federal chambers or Senates.4 In their study of bicameralism Tsebelis and Money argued ‘there is considerable continuity from ancient Greece to the 18th century … the two legislative bodies represented different classes or groups of citizens’.5 Bicameralism then, was a pre-democratic principle in that the upper chamber represented the powerful and wealthy of society, while the lower chamber represented the less patrician citizens, though still those with some status and wealth. As Loewenberg and Patterson put it the division of the legislature into both ‘an upper and a lower house was originally a class conscious sense of “upper and lower”’.6 The same reason which induced the Romans to have two consuls makes it desirable there should be two chambers: that neither of them may be exposed to the corrupting influence of undivided power, even for the space of a single year. John Stuart Mill also had something to say about second chambers, for and against, and ascribed the genesis of the idea to the Romans: 7 Consuls were the chief magistrates of Ancient Rome, at first both were patricians then, from 367 BC, one was required to be a plebeian. 8 Of all principles on which a wisely conservative body, destined to moderate and regulate democratic ascendancy, could possibly be constructed, the best seems to be that exemplified in the Roman Senate, itself the most consistently prudent and sagacious body that ever administered public affairs. Mill also expressed great admiration for the Roman Senate: 9 Mill wrote this in 1861, after the crisis of the Great Reform Act in Britain in 1832, which, he argued, had undermined the power of the House of Lords. 4 Meg Russell, Reforming the House of Lords: Lessons from Overseas, (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), p.20. 5 George Tsebelis and Jeanette Money, Bi-Cameralism, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1997), p.13. 6 G. Loewenberg and S.C. Patterson, Comparing Legislatures, (Boston: Little, Brown, 1979), p.121. 7 John Stuart Mill, On Liberty and Other Essays, ed. John Gray, (Oxford University Press, 1991), p.385. 8 Nathaniel Harris, History of Ancient Rome, 2003 ed. (London: Chancellor Press, 2000), p.9. 9 Mill, On Liberty and Other Essays, p.388. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 131 I will argue that the concept of an ‘upper’ house as a patrician institution still lingered in the minds of the Convention delegates despite their declared democratic principles. As we have seen, in many respects the delegates were creatures of habit and their experience and education unconsciously caused them to regard second chambers as ‘upper’ houses and institutions of greater distinction than lower houses. This disposition, I suggest, influenced the decision to establish an upper house in the first place and then to regard it as the superior body. There is little overt evidence that the Convention delegates were influenced by ancient examples, though most of them were either well educated or well read. Edmund Barton, for example, enjoyed a classical education at Sydney University and so had a strong grounding in the Greek and Roman classics. Geoffrey Bolton argued in his biography of Barton that the ‘same Greek and Roman precedent would become one of the subliminal influences in the shaping of an Australian nation’.10 10 Geoffrey Bolton, Edmund Barton: The One Man for the Job, (St. Leonards, Australia: Allen & Unwin, 2000), p.16. Barton was not alone among the delegates in having received a classical education and other delegates would have been familiar with these early precedents. Bolton’s use of the word ‘subliminal’ is relevant in relation to Greek and Roman influences on the delegates, because there is only minimal mention of them in the Convention debates. The only evidence of the influence of antiquity came in a spirited exchange on the issue of equal representation of the States in the Senate, on 10 September 1897. On that day the ancient Greek legislatures of about the third century B.C., the Lykian League and the Achaean Assembly were drawn into the discussion by Josiah Symon and Henry Higgins. As has been shown, Higgins was a vociferous opponent of equal representation of the States in the Senate, and Symon was an equally vociferous supporter of the concept. It is evident from their passionate duel that both felt that history was on their side. Here though, the interest is in their learned comments on these ancient Greek federations. Symon, in a long speech, compared the ancient Achaean League to the modern constitution of the United States, citing it as an example of a successful federation which gave equal representation to each member city and claimed that Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 132 that was the example the United States had followed. Higgins riposted with another ancient example to support his view that equal representation is undemocratic by citing the Lykian League, whose cities were represented by members according to their population. One source suggests it was actually the Lykian League on which the United States Constitution was modelled.11 A more visible relationship to antiquity is in the name the Senate for the upper house. The name came to Australia indirectly from the Roman Empire via the United States. It is an ancient word which, literally, means ‘council of old men’. The word is also used in other contexts, mostly academic, to describe various authoritative bodies, particularly in some major British universities. The history of the word is a complex and tortuous tale but historians Patterson and Mughan, as well as Russell, tell us that the majority of second chambers of today take the name from the famous council of elders of ancient Rome which held sway during the second century BC. The question of equal representation in the Senate was a bitterly fought out verbal battle and was in many ways an echo of the United States Convention debates, where the same issue attracted passionate argument. In America the resolution or compromise, known as the ‘Connecticut Compromise’ was to agree to equal representation of the States in the Senate in order to persuade the smaller states to accept federation. The Australians accepted this view after lively debates, and followed suit. 12 11 OR, 10 September 1897, pp.292, 348. New York Times, 19 September 2005, ‘Lycian League Parliament Building Identified’. 12 Samuel C. Patterson and Anthony Mughan, eds., Senates: Bicameralism in the Contemporary World (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 1999), Russell, Reforming the House of Lords: Lessons from Overseas, p.19. Roger Foster in his Commentaries on the Constitution of the United States points out that the Americans themselves simply borrowed the name: ‘the United States took the name from the body which ruled ancient Rome, the Roman Senate. … This was a body of warriors with whom the king or Chieftain Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 133 held his councils of war’.13 The United States and Australian Senates more closely resemble the Roman Tribunate as legislative bodies rather than warriors.14 As delegates used different names at different times this led to some confusion until James Walker interjected, as noted in Chapter 3, suggesting it should be called the Senate because ‘It is much simpler, and we all know what it means’. This did not please Edmund Barton whose Constitutional Committee had chosen the name ‘States Assembly’. He, not surprisingly, protested vigorously but in vain at the amendment, which was quickly passed. The comments of the delegates suggest that it was the historicity of the name that was the major influence in the naming of the Australian upper house. It overcame all other suggestions made in earnest deliberations to give the house a name that would properly reflect its declared purpose of representing the interests of the separate states: ‘States Assembly’ or ‘Council of States’. In the early Convention debates ‘Senate’ was used frequently but not solely to describe the proposed upper house but, in the 1897 Convention, the Constitutional Committee charged with the duty of selecting a name for the upper house, decided upon ‘States Assembly’. 15 The amendment was strongly supported by George Reid who said the word ‘commends itself to an English community far more than this Frenchified title’, which was a sly reference to the name of the French Parliament: the ‘Estates General’. Reid and Barton were political opponents in the NSW Parliament and this could be an indication of Reid’s hostility to Barton as much as support for the new name.16 Walker’s amendment made perfect sense to most of the delegates and can be seen as more evidence of a ‘subliminal’ influence, or the heart ruling the head. Another ‘subliminal’ influence could have been that the name ‘States Assembly’ 13 Roger Foster, Commentaries on the constitution of the United States, historical and juridicial: with observations upon the ordinary provisions of state constitutions and a comparison with the constitutions of other countries, p.459. 14 Quick and Garran, The Annotated Constitution of the Australian Commonwealth, p. 415. Quick & Garran draw from Roger Foster. 15 OR, 13 April 1897, p. 481. 16 Ibid. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 134 has no poetic resonance and would bring a tedious problem with apostrophes, though the compilers of the records of the debates conveniently ignored this grammatical aspect. La Nauze later wryly observed that the change saved the country from the perpetual irony of a second chamber with a meaningless name, for the Senate very quickly abandoned its States’ focus to become, like the House of Representatives, a house dominated by political parties.17 The House of Lords emerged in Britain in the 14th century and is one of the earliest examples of an upper chamber in the modern world. It has been highly influential in the development of bicameralism across the globe, not just in British societies. Bicameralism and the concept of an upper and lower house evolved in Britain as a result of a split in the Great Council, an assembly of the chief landholders of the kingdom, ecclesiastical and lay, which met to advise the king and agree on taxation. The other ancient model, though not as venerable as the Greek and Roman examples, was the British House of Lords. This was the institution with which the delegates were familiar from their own traditions and heritage. The House of Lords was a major model for many modern upper houses. It was not a very practical model, dating as it did from the Middle Ages and based upon out-of-date principles, foremost of which was that its members were there on a mainly hereditary basis, which was unacceptable in the Australia of the 1890s. This did not deter the Convention delegates, who were staunchly British and, though they accepted that the hereditary principle was impractical for Australia, still saw the institution as a model in other ways: as an integral part of an Australian bicameral parliament; as a house of review, or check on the lower house; and in its procedures, ceremonies and rituals, many of which were incorporated into the procedures of the Australian Senate and modelled on the example of the Colonial Legislative Councils. 18 17 La Nauze, The Making of the Australian Constitution, p.141. 18 A. Lawrence Lowell, The Government of England, vol.1. The MacMillan Company, 1921, p.394. The Council, the ‘most venerable of all British institutions reaching back beyond the Norman Conquest and beyond King Alfred, into the shadowy regions of Teutonic antiquity’ had previously expanded its membership Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 135 from feudal lords to include Burgesses representing local communities.19 When these different ‘estates’ began to meet separately, this marked the emergence of an upper chamber comprising the aristocracy and bishops, sitting in their own right, and a lower chamber representing counties or boroughs, and called the Commons.20 By the end of the 19th century, when Australia was considering a new Constitution, the composition of the House of Lords included all of the ‘peers of the realm’, by whatever title, and the English Bishops (4). Other members included Irish peers (28) and Scottish representative peers (16), appointed on various principles. The Crown, or the ‘ministry of the day’, had unlimited power to create hereditary peerages. 21 In 1830 the number of peers was 401; by 1899 the number had increased to 591, and the House was the largest second chamber in the world. Only ‘peers of the realm’ were members of the House by virtue of descent and were summoned to Parliament by a writ of summons from the Sovereign, though they did not all attend.22 The division of powers between the houses is a critical factor in the smooth functioning of a legislature as a whole and the powers of the House of Lords were an important consideration for the delegates in designing their upper house. The House of Lords had a two-fold role in the British Parliament in that its powers were both judicial and legislative. Judicial authority was rejected as a role for the Australian Senate; instead a separate judiciary was established along the lines of the United States Constitution, another important model to be considered in the The composition of the Lords was clearly not a suitable model for the Australian situation but other factors influenced those delegates who saw it as a model for Australia, the most important being its powers in relation to the lower House of Commons. 19 James Bryce, 'Conference on the Reform of the Second Chamber: Letter from Viscount Bryce to the Prime Minister', (London: His Majesty's Stationery Office: 1918; Reprinted for the Legislative Assembly of New South Wales 1929), p.5. para. 18. 20 Russell, Reforming the House of Lords: Lessons from Overseas, p.20. 21 Lowell, The House of Lords, vol.1., p.395. 22 J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers - an Inductive Study in Political Science, New, revised and part rewritten ed. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1927), p.55. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 136 next chapter. The legislative role of the Lords in the 1890s was however a clear model for the delegates and was used to both support and undermine arguments about the Senate’s powers in relation to the lower house. In this role at this time the Lords had co-ordinate authority over legislation together with the Sovereign and the House of Commons, except that the imposition of taxation was the sole prerogative of the Commons. In this the Lords’ powers were limited, not by statute but by convention and precedent, which in Britain were as binding as statutes. Apart from this limitation both Houses could originate, amend or reject any Bill, and before any legislation could become an Act it must have the concurrence of both Houses and the Crown.23 The Great Reform Act of 1832, which sought to modernise what was a corrupt and unjust voting system for the House of Commons, weakened the Lords. It did not affect the Lords’ powers directly but its difficult passage and the circumstances leading up to it considerably lowered its status. The Bill took eighteen months to go through Parliament because successive versions were rejected by the upper house and its final passage was preceded by serious public unrest amounting almost to civil war. After two parliamentary dissolutions, the Whig leader, Earl Grey, was returned to power as Prime Minister. To enable the Bill to pass the House of Lords, Grey requested the King (William IV) to create 50 or more peers to achieve a majority in favour of the Bill. This was not an unprecedented manoeuvre: in 1711 Queen Anne had created twelve new Tory peers to secure a majority in favour of peace with France, so the threat was real. 24 In the event the threat itself was sufficient, the Tory leader, the Duke of Wellington, allowed the Bill to pass by instructing the Tory Lords not to oppose it any longer. The Lords passed the Bill in 1832 without the King having to agree to this tactic. According to Bagehot, ‘It is the sole claim of the Duke of Wellington to the name of a statesman that he presided over this change’.25 23 Ibid. 24 Eric Edgar Hewitt, Upper Houses, (Melbourne: Viridia Books, 1996), pp.60-61. 25 Walter Bagehot, The English Constitution, (London: C. A. Watts, 1964), p.128. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 137 This calendar of events and the passions it aroused seriously damaged the status of the House of Lords in the public mind and subsequently the threat of creating more peers was always a silent factor when the rejection of Bills from the House of Commons was considered. Not only did the passing of the Bill make the Commons a more representative institution but the public anger that had accompanied and forced the change brought recognition of the emerging strength of the democratic element in society and in Government. What it did not do was to greatly increase the numbers in the Commons or bring about a golden age of democracy. Although the corrupt voting system had been rationalised and a fairer distribution of electorates enacted, the actual process did not change: a property qualification remained on the suffrage, excluding the vast majority of people who owned little and it was still necessary to meet a stringent property qualification to stand for election, which meant that participation in Government on any level remained limited to the wealthy and the aristocracy. It was not until further reform acts, in 1867 and 1884, that voting rights were gradually extended further to include those lower down the class ladder.26 Australia’s Colonies were well ahead of the Mother country in this regard. The Australian delegates would have taken these factors into account in their deliberations on the powers of the Senate. Earlier John Stuart Mill had offered an apposite comment: ‘So soon as conventional rank and individual riches no longer overawe the democracy, a House of Lords becomes insignificant’.27 A study of the comments of the delegates during the Conventions reveals a dichotomy in their views of the House of Lords. They were at once admiring, even deferential, but also critical and disparaging. Disparaging comments came early in the 1891 Convention when Samuel Griffith, in his introductory speech declared that the powers of the Lords ‘have become considerably diminished, and are now principally those of a checking and a useful revising body’. 28 26Eric Hobsbawm, Industry and Empire: An Economic History of Britain since 1750, (London: Weidenfield & Nicholson, 1968), p.102. 27 Mill, On Liberty and Other Essays, p.21. That there was a 28 OR, 4 March 1891, p.31. It is notable that the delegates to the Conventions, although generally thought to be sympathetic to the concept that Ireland might have the same degree of autonomy as Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 138 dilemma at the heart of the discussions involving the British upper chamber is evident: there was a desire to emulate the Lords but a problem in that it did not fit the Australian situation. This was best expressed in an admiring remark by Alfred Deakin in 1891, who asserted: I believe that we cannot have a better ideal for our second chamber than the House of Lords as its functions are now interpreted; at the same time I will confess to honourable members that in defining its exact position we might possibly have some difficulty.29 there is in England an upper chamber infinitely superior to any of the same character of which we know anywhere else … the House of Peers … holds a body of men at this day who have no superiors on the face of the earth as a governing body. This was in the early days of the 1891 Convention and it is possible Deakin, as a supporter of the US model and opposed to the British concept of responsible government, hoped that the role and powers of the Senate might eventually differ in important respects from those of the Lords. Henry Parkes had no qualms in expressing deference combined with admiration of the Lords. In the early days of the 1891 Convention he declared: 30 Parkes continued his fulsome praise of the Lords, saying that Australia should take what he called ‘the lamp of experience held out by England and by no other country’. He also considered that the upper chamber of the ‘old land’ was ‘more illustrious’ as well as of great ability, learning and service to the state. He emphasised the superiority of the Lords over the United States Senate when he referred to the ‘Charles Sumner’ incident with these words: ‘in the House of Lords no peer, no illustrious statesman was ever stealthily approached with an intention to beat out his brains’. 31 the Australian colonies or Canada enjoy, did not comment on the rejection of Home Rule for Ireland in 1886 and 1893. 29 Ibid., 5 March 1891, p.74. 30 Ibid., 16 March 1891, p.447. 31 Ibid. This was a reference to an ugly episode in the bitter conflict over slavery in the United States, when a congressman from South Carolina beat anti-slavery activist Senator Charles Sumner unconscious in his seat Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 139 for his views. Sumner was seriously injured and took three years to recover.32 The main point of contention in the debates, and one in which references to the Lords were frequent, was the division of power between the houses over money Bills. As discussed above, by the 1890s this power was limited for the Lords by Convention, but some delegates, mainly from the smaller states, sought completely equal powers for the Senate, including over money Bills. In this regard Griffith denied the validity of the Lords as a model for the Senate: ‘The House of Lords is a very peculiar institution—it is peculiar in its constitution and in its history; and there is every reason in the world why it should not interfere with the taxation of the people.’ Parkes was implying that United States Senators were inferior in quality to the members of the House of Lords and his reference to this dreadful incident suggests that he was not impressed with the United States model of a Senate. 33 The idea that there should be any financial limitation on the powers of the Senate brought angry responses from delegates. John Macrossan of Queensland seemed to think that the idea of copying the Lords in this respect was an indication of ‘obsequiousness’ and carrying out an ‘aristocratic idea’. He saw the House of Lords as ‘having no real power whatsoever’ and accused the delegates from Victoria and South Australia as wanting the Senate to be a ‘counterpart of the House of Lords’. He suggested, disparagingly, that the Lords was a ‘feeble’ institution and should not be the template for the Senate in relation to money bills, and persisted in the notion that the smaller states wanted a counterpart to the Lords. Macrossan concluded with the statement: ‘We are here to preserve our state rights. We are not here to make a senate which shall be a counterpart of the Members of the House of Lords, unlike members of the proposed Australian Senate, were not elected by the people, or taxpayers, and in Griffith’s view should not interfere in money matters. 32 Biographical Directory of the United States Congress: http://www.senate.gov/artandhistory/history/common/generic/Featured_Bio_Sumner.htm. Accessed 5 August 2008. 33 OR, 17 March 1891, p.428. http://www.senate.gov/artandhistory/history/common/generic/Featured_Bio_Sumner.htm� Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 140 House of Lords’.34 William McMillan also referred to the Lords while speaking on the powers of the proposed Senate in 1891. He considered that the new upper chamber would not be ‘a nominee chamber, not an upper chamber like the House of Lords’. It is true that the Senate was to be an elected chamber, but, as noted above, in its legislative role the final shape of the Senate was to be a close copy of the Lords. This comment is ironic in that the final shape of the Senate was to be very much a counterpart or duplicate of the House of Lords in its role as an upper house, except in its composition. It is ironic that those who sought greater power for the upper house were seeking a house more like the Lords of old which was more than the equal of the Commons. 35 McMillan may also have hoped for a radical reform of the traditional structure and powers of the Australian upper house. He had occasionally let drop remarks that suggested he was not wholly in favour of a Senate at all. Thomas Playford spoke in support of the concept of responsible government, which he argued, was never achieved in England until ‘the co-equal power was taken from the House of Lords’.36 Playford maintained that the concept of responsible government combined with two absolutely co-equal houses would not work. This argument is at the heart of what Galligan calls the ‘hybrid synthesis’ of the Australian Constitution, which gave executive power to the lower house, but gave the upper house, equal in all other respects, no power in respect of money bills except absolute rejection.37 Like a fort which has only one big gun, and that big gun so powerful and so uncertain in its effect that they hardly dare to let it off, because it may burst and injure those who occupy the fort and possibly blow it to pieces. This big gun is the power of refusing to grant supplies and so thus cause the stoppage of all the functions of government. Baker recognised a danger here describing, in graphic terms, how this would make the Senate: 38 34 Ibid., p.433. 35 Ibid., 3 April 1891, p.719. 36 Ibid., 6 April 1891, p. 734. 37 Brian Galligan, A Federal Republic, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), p.86. 38 OR, 17 September 1897, p.785. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 141 George Dibbs had the final and in this instance, derogatory, word on the Lords in 1891. He considered that the British Constitution was ‘a worn out theory’ as regards the Lords and he claimed that in England there was an attempt being made to reform it which he hoped ‘may succeed’. Dibbs was speaking here in support of the United States model for ‘a powerful Senate’ and he supported equal powers combined with responsible government, a combination that many, including Deakin and Playford, saw as unworkable.39 After an interval of six years, the 1897 Convention met to resume the task, uncompleted in 1891, of drafting a constitution for the Australian Commonwealth. The example of the Lords and Great Britain remained a consideration, if not cited quite so often. William Lyne suggested that the Constitution should provide against any secession, such as had occurred in the United States and should be as flexible as the British Constitution. The powers of the Lords over finances were not finally removed until 1911. 40 I admit that we must here deviate from the British Constitution and give the Senate powers which have ceased practically to belong to the House of Lords for a long period. George Reid suggested deviating from the ‘strict lines’ of the British Constitution to give the Senate the power to reject money bills, though not to amend them: 41 Reid saw the question as one of ‘great moment’ to the smaller states, that they have some power over money bills, and professed support for their concern, a support which he expressed again in his next speech. 42 Glynn rather vaguely added the thought that the power of the Lords could not be justified in Australia because it would be ‘inconsistent with the principle of popular supremacy’ and that ‘the Lords must give way to the Commons’. He thought that this was what would happen here and to him, as a supporter of co-ordinate powers, this would not be a good thing. 43 39 Ibid., 6 April 1891, p.752. 40 Ibid., 6 March 1897, pp.161-2. 41 Ibid., 30 March 1897, p.275-6. 42 Ibid., p.276. 43 Ibid., 9 September 1897, p.277. Glynn, as with some other delegates, seemed a little vague on the Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 142 actual powers of the House of Lords and a veil of ignorance distorted the debates on the topic. That there was some uncertainty of how the structure of the proposed Constitution should proceed was evident in the vacillation of Richard Baker. In 1891 he was initially a firm supporter of the ‘British form of Constitutional Government’. He changed his views early and became a strong advocate for the adoption of the United States system, justifying his change of heart because he had ‘looked at the Lords from the point of view of a possible imperial Federation’, and concluded with some relish and little relevance, that if this was to come about then the ‘House of Lords would undoubtedly have to be swept away’. In this speech Baker was referring to an idea that all members of the then British Empire might federate under a central Government, an idea which did not have much support from anywhere. In his speech Baker pointed to the example of South Australia, his home colony, saying that its Legislative Council, or upper house, ‘must always be looked upon as holding a position somewhat analogous to the House of Lords’, but that would not necessarily work in the Senate. The upper house, the Legislative Council, in South Australia had equal powers with the lower house except for the initiation of money bills, but as Baker was a determined opponent of the concept of responsible government he wanted a Senate more closely modelled on the United States example. From this position he went on to attack the supporters of responsible government as being ‘imbued with its excellence because they themselves have succeeded and occupied such prominent positions under that form of constitution’.44 Baker is articulating here the main theme of the theory of path dependence which explains the forces that result in the clinging to old ways, in spite of difficulties encountered in the past.45 It was possible for delegates to draw diametrically opposed conclusions from the same set of circumstances. Hackett made it clear that there was uncertainty, or 44 Ibid., 18 March 1891, pp.466. 45 Paul Pierson, 'Increasing Returns, Path Dependence, and the Study of Politics', The American Social Science Review, June 2000. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 143 perhaps more open minds, concerning what shape the Senate should take and he made a valid point during a discussion on its powers in regard to money bills: I cannot shut my eyes to the fact that we are now entering upon an unknown sea. We are creating a constitution of which almost everything is undefined. We have little in the past to argue from, we have absolutely nothing in the future but the purest efforts of imagination and it may be that it would be best for that constitution to run on the lines which have been established in England and the colonies for so many years.46 The topic of possible disagreement between the two houses led to the major debate in which models were cited. This was an issue which affected both houses Hackett was defending his change of mind from supporting full powers of amendment of money bills for the Senate into opposition to that concept. In doing so he showed great insight into the opportunities for creating a constitution of originality and imagination. He also pinpointed the greatest obstacle to that achievement, the reliance on the past in the form of the constitutions of the Colonies and Great Britain, another clear example of the lure of the existing path. The end result was that the powers finally allocated to the Senate in the Constitution were almost identical to those of the House of Lords at that time: the powers of the two Houses of Parliament would be equal in all respects except for money bills. In Australia this was embodied in the written Constitution, whereas for the Lords it was enshrined in convention. In the case of serial rejection of bills the power of the Senate was to be tempered with the possibility of the dissolution of Parliament; in the Lords it was tempered with the threat of the creation of more peers to enable a bill to pass. The threat to the Lords was much more immediate than the threat of dissolution of the Australian Parliament, an act which, as finally designed, requires time and consideration before it becomes possible. The building up of the safeguard against disagreement was a painful and arduous debate and the outcome is unique. But there is little doubt that the need to have some method of reining in an obstinate upper house was recognised by the delegates from both the British experience and their own. 46 OR, 14 September 1897, pp. 551-6. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 144 and is included because it precipitated a core provision in the Constitution closely related to the eventual powers of the Senate. The issue arose from the bicameral system and the proposed imbalance in powers of the two houses. It was a vexed question and took five days of intensive debate (15 to 21 September 1897) to resolve. George Reid recalled in his memoir that it was a most ‘troublesome’ debate on an issue which created numerous difficulties.47 During the debate many models were referred to and each section was bitterly contested. The major model was the House of Lords and, as noted earlier, perhaps this was due to, as Geoffrey Bolton put it, a ‘subliminal’ desire, amounting almost to a need, to emulate the British system, combined with the knowledge of the difficult circumstances of the passing of the Reform Act of 1832.48 We are not dealing with the House of Lords, who represent only a section of the people … when we have a senate resting on the bedrock of manhood suffrage, the senate representing the whole manhood, and in some colonies the whole womanhood also, of the country— cannot conceive a case where there would be a necessity for mechanical means to get rid of deadlocks. The clause under discussion was a new clause—57(a)—to manage the issue of possible deadlocks between the Houses. The Assembly of New South Wales had put the Clause forward during the April until September suspension of the 1897 Convention, after the draft Constitution had been circulated to the States for comment. This much-disputed question led to complex and tedious arguments and a variety of solutions. One of the problems was that a number of members did not think any provision for the solving of deadlocks was necessary and were especially opposed to the idea that a referendum might be the solution. Simon Fraser put his point of view forcefully: 49 A vote on 15 September 1897 finally decided, by 30 votes to 15, that a provision of this sort was necessary. 50 47 The Right Honourable Sir George Houston Reid, My Reminiscences, (London: Cassell and Company Ltd., 1917), p.160. 48 Bolton, Edmund Barton: The One Man for the Job, p.16. 49 OR, 15 September 1897, p.566. 50 Ibid., 16 September 1897, p.708. This in itself presented another problem: that there were no exact models on the breaking of deadlocks to follow. Of the Australian Colonies Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 145 only in South Australia had provision been made, but it was clumsy, probably unworkable and had never been used.51 In attempts to resolve the predicament delegates sought examples from other countries, several in a negative way. Frederick Holder cited both the Lords and his home state of South Australia in his speech on the matter. He explained that in South Australia the Governor was empowered to issue writs for an additional number of members of the Legislative Council to enable disputed legislation to be passed, (though he failed to mention that it had never been used) an idea parallel to what could be done in the Lords and in New South Wales. Isaac Isaacs pointed out that it had been done in Canada, and Deakin added that it had also been done in New Zealand: Queen Anne certainly started something in 1711. Holder saw that what he called a ‘safety valve’ was necessary, but the examples he cited were simply not practical for the Senate. 52 That the example of the House of Lords was foremost in the minds of many delegates was evident in the number of references to it, even though its solution to such a situation was clearly inappropriate for the Australian Senate whose membership was fixed. Joseph Abbott saw no reason for a ‘safety valve’ as in his opinion the Lords ‘had never failed to give way to public opinion’. This suggests either that Abbott thought that the Reform Act of 1832 was ancient history or that he was not aware of that crisis, another indication of the shortage of accurate historical knowledge among the delegates. From this shaky premise he concluded that the Senate would not challenge the lower house on serious questions, a conclusion he was not alone in holding. He was ambivalent about solutions to the deadlock crisis but was prepared to listen to suggestions. 53 George Reid seemed to have mixed feelings about the Lords, introducing the British example with the observation: ‘If we are to proceed on the lines of the 51 Dean Jaensch, ed. The Flinders History of South Australia: Political History. (Adelaide: Wakefield Press, 1986), p.372. 52 OR, 15 September 1897, pp. 561-2. 53 Ibid., p. 569. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 146 British Constitution, we have very little to guide us’.54 I feel all the prouder of our connection with the mother country when I reflect that in spite of the House of Lords there is no country in the world where public opinion in its broadest form has so much weight. He cited the Lords and the power of public opinion again by referring to the effects of the 1832 Reform Act. Though he supported the case for a method of dealing with deadlocks he still cited the Lords and the power of public opinion, even though its unique method of resolving deadlocks could not be applied in the case of an Australian Senate. He made an impassioned and very lengthy speech on the proposal of a dissolution followed by a referendum to break deadlocks. He recognised that the British Constitution was not a model in this regard and he loyally expressed admiration for the British Constitution but was reserved about the Lords: 55 Fraser, in an almost impenetrable speech, seemed to be defending the Lords and the Canadian Senate as well, as houses ‘which could not be dissolved’. Reid responded heatedly revealing his thoughts about upper houses in Australia: ‘There are houses which we know of in Australia’ he said ‘which have developed a spirit of arrogance and self-sufficiency quite beyond that of the House of Lords’. He went on to criticise members of upper houses as seeming to be the ‘embodiment of immovable and absolute power, which I have not found anywhere in ancient history. The simple reason is that the breath of the people cannot be brought to bear upon them at a critical moment’. Reid was speaking from experience as a member of the New South Wales Legislative Assembly and its conflict with the Legislative Council, members of which were nominated for life. He was a supporter of the idea of a referendum to resolve disputes and recourse to people power was The ‘in spite of’ is a revealing phrase and his was not the only reliance on public opinion as a powerful incentive for the resolution of deadlocks. 54 Ibid., 16 September 1897, p.649. 55 Ibid., pp.653-4. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 147 at the heart of the argument of whether there should be restraints upon an upper house. He clearly thought there should be while Fraser thought otherwise.56 The pragmatic and intelligent Isaacs also referred to the Lords and the effects of the 1832 Reform Act on its powers. He supported Reid’s view that the Constitution should be ‘founded’ on the British model, so far as that is ‘applicable’ but would ‘scarcely go further back than 1832’. It was not until then, he thought, that representative Government truly existed; before that, he observed, it was ‘still in the womb of time’. Deadlocks, he argued, are now easily dealt with in Britain ‘not because there are checks and balances, not because we have to depend on the mere good will or the moral silent force of public opinion … but because it is recognised that in the last resort there is only one power in the nation’. 57 That the Lords should be so frequently referred to in these debates suggests that most of the delegates were conscious of the effects of the 1832 Reform Act, as well as the impracticability of applying the British solution to Australia; it explains the frequent references to ‘public opinion’ as a possible decider and is strongly indicative of the weight of tradition which is accounted for by the theory of path dependence. The debates demonstrated that the delegates were not the best informed of scholars yet were prepared to argue from a position mostly based on a combination of emotion and past experience. Some were imbued with the vision of the qualities of the House of Lords as their rightful inheritance, even while they were committed to ideas of democracy. They wanted their Senate to be as nearly as possible a colonial House of Lords while demonstrating a democratic approach: a difficult task. Hunt saw the greater disparity in population and wealth between the larger and smaller states of Australia as leading the larger colonies to insist upon a provision for the breaking of ‘deadlocks’ though it is possible that the experience of He was clearly referring to the power of the Prime Minister to request the Sovereign to create more Lords. He did not make any suggestion as to how to apply this in Australia. 56 Ibid. 57 Ibid., p.660. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 148 the delegates in their colonial legislatures was more influential.58 The Norwegian model attracted the interest of the delegates mainly for its method of dealing with deadlocks or disagreements between the Houses. Lyne mentioned Norway early in the preliminary debates of the Adelaide Convention in 1897. In considering the possibility of a deadlock he described the solution to the situation in Norway as ‘the two houses sitting together’ to debate a disputed measure and noted that ‘a measure must be carried by a two-thirds majority’. He recommended this procedure for settling deadlocks in the Australian Parliament because ‘the possibility of a crisis is then alleviated at any rate, if not absolutely prevented’. It is also possible that the rough passage of the 1832 Reform Act through the British Parliament may have had some influence on the insistence upon such a provision. The example of 1832 was a clear reminder that the British system was evolving and changing to meet new circumstances and this licensed them to tinker with it. Despite their emotionally ingrained attachment to British tradition, clearly demonstrated in their comments on the virtues of the House of Lords, the delegates had few qualms about exploring other possible models and, on the thorny question of deadlocks, others models were diligently sought. Norway, Austro-Hungary, France, Belgium, and Switzerland were brought into the argument, as were the United States and Canada—discussed in the next chapter. Other issues also were canvassed in the light of the practices of other Constitutions in sometimes wide ranging but occasionally superficial discussions. These will now be addressed. 59 The model of Norway reappeared most frequently during the protracted debates on deadlocks later in the year. James Walker introduced the subject explaining that Higgins ‘would like to hear the Norwegian system discussed, or some application This is significant because, although Lyne made his speech early in the debate of 1897, he sowed the seed of a future resolution. 58 Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, p.14. 59 OR, 26 March 1897, p.159. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 149 or modification of that system’.60 Later Reid made a lengthy and erudite speech on the topic in which he referred to several other models that adopted a similar procedure though with different conditions according to their different situations. According to Reid the system was used in Sweden, Belgium, France and Austro- Hungary. He closed with the comment that ‘In Norway the two houses, if they disagree over a bill, meet together’.61 Some delegates, John Downer for example, thought the idea too ‘foreign’ and he made his feelings very clear by forcefully criticising those who ‘rush from dear old England, and ramble all over the Continent, taking precedents in the most ruthless and reckless way’. He exhorted them to ‘keep to one line, and that is the British Constitution’.62 In Pierson’s terms he was calling for delegates to stick to a well-known path and articulating the instincts of many delegates. Joseph Carruthers later added that the method was also used in Ireland: ‘The proposal is that laid down in the Government of Ireland Bill, the principle that the two houses shall deliberate and vote together thereon, and shall adopt or reject the bill’, though with different conditions according to individual circumstances.63 It fell to Isaacs to explain thoroughly the Norwegian system for the benefit of the delegates. In Norway, he explained, the two houses were both elected at the same time and on the same basis. They then met as one body and divided themselves into two parts: ‘one three-fourths of the number, the other the remaining one-fourth’ as Isaacs put it. If the two houses could not agree on a Bill they then met together to vote on it and a two-thirds majority was required to carry it. Though clearly well acquainted with the Norwegian practice, Isaacs concluded his speech by claiming he found the system unsuitable for Australia because it would be undemocratic ‘bringing all the advantages of equal representation into the joint deliberations of the two bodies’. By this he meant that, for him, equal representation of the States, as decided upon for the Senate, was undemocratic and to carry the imbalance into 60 Ibid., 16 September 1897, p.688. 61 Ibid., 20 September 1897, p.842. 62 Ibid., p.848. 63 Ibid., 21 September 1897, p.940. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 150 a joint sitting would give the smaller States too much power.64 This was the prevailing view of those who opposed the idea. But the proposal also had its supporters. Among these were Patrick Glynn, George Reid, James Walker and Philip Fysh. Fysh, who supported the idea in principle, was less than enthusiastic, calling it a ‘last resort’ and Walker saw it as ‘the most admirable system to settle those matters provided that the proportion is sufficient to safeguard the interests of the states’. 65 On the question of the suitability or otherwise of the Norwegian system of joint sittings Walker’s remark opened a long and tedious discussion on the majority necessary if such a provision was introduced. After much careful mathematics and heated argument this point was settled at a three-fifths majority to pass a Bill, but this was to become redundant in the final stages of the Constitution when a simple majority was agreed upon.66 The question on whether the procedure should be adopted was finally put in an amendment by Carruthers. 67 The amendment attracted a fiery debate with Isaacs commenting ‘this proposal has been pitch-forked into this debate at the eleventh hour without the slightest pretence to analogy, without the slightest pretence to adaptability to our constitution, and I do sincerely hope that the Committee will reject it’.68 He was to be disappointed. The amendment to include a joint sitting as part of the procedure to settle disagreements between the houses was passed 30– 11.69 Switzerland, as a Constitution of recent origin, was also a closely studied model for the Convention delegates. Switzerland’s Constitution, established in 1848 and revised in 1874, drew heavily on the United States Constitution except for the office It is clear that at the end of the day the majority of delegates were prepared to temper their ardour for the British Constitution with a dose of pragmatism reinforced by painful lessons learned in the parliaments of their respective Colonies. 64 Ibid., p.935. 65 Ibid., pp.934, 971. 66 Ibid., 20 September 1897, p.895. 67 Ibid., 21 September 1897, p.933. 68 Ibid., p.939. 69 Ibid., p.967. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 151 of President. The Swiss Parliament in 1897 was bicameral with a popularly elected National Council, the lower house, and the States’ elected Council, the upper house. The powers of the two houses were equal. From the elected members of both houses of Parliament seven members were elected to form the Federal Council, which became the ‘supreme executive and directorial authority of the Confederation’. Each member of the Council had equal rights and each was head of a Department, or Minister, and the Council acted in the same way as a Cabinet in a Westminster government. Important decisions were taken by a majority of the Council members. The presidency of the Council rotated annually but the President had no special powers, the role being more of a public relations responsibility.70 The composition of the Swiss executive aroused the most interest among the delegates. Baker, an admirer of the United States system brought it to the attention of the Convention in 1891. He recommended adoption of the Swiss executive system, saying it had been in place for forty-three years and worked well. 71 Deakin however, was dismissive of Baker’s views saying such a system would not work in Australia where responsible government was a better option.72 Isaacs also dismissed the Swiss executive model, saying that if we were to have the Swiss executive perhaps we should abolish the Governor-General. He later scornfully commented that the members of the Swiss executive were ‘mere heads of departments’.73 A spirited debate then took place on the concept of the Swiss form of executive: John Gordon and William Trenwith expressed support for the idea, but Deakin and Isaacs were sceptical and disdainful.74 Barton added the comment that the Swiss style of executive would do away with party government and he did not believe that the Swiss Constitution had ‘proper safeguards for liberty’ as did the British system.75 70 History of Switzerland: Federal Constitution 1848, p.5. http://history-switzerland.geschichte- schweiz.ch/switzerland-federal-constitution-1848.html. Accessed 20 August 2008. 71 OR, 17 March 1891, p.440. 72 Ibid., 30 March 1897, p.286-7. ;73 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.169; 31 March, 1897, p. 380. 74 Ibid., 30 March 1897, pp.324, 334, 286, 380. 75 Ibid., 31 March 1897, p.381. http://history-switzerland.geschichte-schweiz.ch/switzerland-federal-constitution-1848.html� http://history-switzerland.geschichte-schweiz.ch/switzerland-federal-constitution-1848.html� Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 152 The concept never got beyond debate, proving to be too extreme or too different from the British system of ‘responsible government’ to which most of the delegates were committed. Nor did the idea appeal as a solution to a pressing problem, as had the Norwegian concept of a joint sitting to resolve disputes. Yet the debate was enlightening in providing insight into the scope of the research and the pattern of thinking among the delegates. It did reveal just how dedicated they were on the whole to the ‘British’ system, again an example of the influence of their heritage. Other aspects of the Swiss model were also discussed at the Conventions: equal powers of the two houses and equal representation in the Senate. Downer claimed that the two houses of the Swiss Parliament had equal powers, though he could not see how this could be achieved in Australia. Deakin contradicted him on this point saying that the tenure of the Swiss Council of States made it inferior to the National Council. He offered no evidence for this conclusion nor is it evident in the Swiss Constitution, so it is difficult to decide what he meant by this comment.76 The issue of equal representations for the Swiss equivalent of the States, the Cantons, was also raised. The gradual evolution of the Swiss Constitution had influenced representation in the upper house and John Cockburn patiently explained that, in his opinion, there was equal representation: two councillors for each Canton for the major Cantons, while the smaller or half Cantons were given one each. 77 Higgins disagreed saying the Swiss did not have equal representation even though they had formed their Constitution on the model of the United States: ‘Some … cantons or half cantons return only one member, whilst other cantons return two’.78 Downer also argued that the base principle in the Swiss Constitution was equal representation of the States, or Cantons, in the upper house: a discussion which suggests that their knowledge of the Swiss Constitution was unreliable.79 76 Ibid., 29 March 1897, pp.213; 30 March, 1897, p.291. 77 Ibid., 30 March 1897, p.342. 78 Ibid., 15 April 1897, p.645. 79 Ibid., 9 September 1897, p.268. In fact, the Swiss approach to equal representation was clearly based on the population of the Cantons but this was not what the majority of the Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 153 Australian delegates wanted. They wanted completely equal representation for each individual state with no regard to populations. Though the executive model of the Swiss Constitution was not seriously considered by the delegates, Switzerland provided another model which was eventually adopted, with modifications, for the Australian Constitution: the referendum. Referenda were an integral part of Swiss governance and attracted much attention from the delegates. In Switzerland referenda were, and still are, a feature of both provincial and national Governance. Lyne was the first to introduce the subject. Speaking on the issue of disagreement between the houses, he explained that in the draft Australian Constitution: ‘There is no power to bring the two houses together. There is no referendum … such as the Swiss Constitution gives’. He was arguing against equal representation in the Senate, which he and others saw as undemocratic, and thought that a referendum would restore the population imbalance in cases of disagreement.80 Trenwith indicated that he favoured the referendum ‘as a means of settling disputes’.81 O’Connor said a referendum ‘may be all very well in a small country like Switzerland, but would be very unsatisfactory for the complicated political questions that would arise in Australia’ and that ‘it is impossible to arrive at a satisfactory conclusion by the referendum’.82 Bernhard Wise and Patrick Glynn agreed ‘that an institution which would override parliament was not British’. 83 Edward Braddon complained that the referendum would not do at all in the case of a deadlock between the Senate and the House of Representatives because ‘it is obvious that the smaller States must go to the wall’.84 Isaacs helpfully provided a succinct summary of the complex and frequently changing referendum situation in Switzerland in 1897 as he understood it. He explained that the Federal Constitution could be amended at any time through the 80 Ibid., 15 April 1897, p.652. 81 Ibid., 20 March 1897, p.333. 82 Ibid., 24 March 1897, pp.56-57. 83 Ibid., 16 September 1897, p.647. 84 Ibid., 24 March 1897, p.65. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 154 normal procedures and without a referendum. When one of the Houses passed a resolution for amendment of the Federal Constitution and the other did not agree; or when 50,000 Swiss voters demanded amendment the question was in either case submitted to a vote of the Swiss people. If the majority of the Swiss citizens then pronounced in the affirmative, there would be a new election of both councils for the purpose of preparing amendments.85 Charles Grant remained unconvinced and firmly against referendums on the basis that the Senate should be a permanent body like the Senate of Canada or the House of Lords, which he saw as ‘one of the models of our Constitution’. He felt very strongly that the Senate was being defiled by the elective principle and that the referendum was even more humiliating.86 if, … we could have arranged for an exploration party to go through all the various libraries of the colonies, and burn all the works of reference on the American, Canadian, and Swiss constitutions, we should at least have been saved some hours of very eloquent dissertation. Solomon, while supporting the idea of a dual referendum, one that included the States as well as the populace, expressed impatience at the frequent references to other Constitutions saying: 87 Solomon was probably expressing the views of other delegates, impatient at lengthy debates and declamatory speeches which did not always enhance the discussions but delayed decisions. He had a point, but at least the speeches do show that some delegates had been doing some reading whereas others seemed to be making it up as they went along. Solomon could also have been expressing impatience with the introduction of aspects of foreign Constitutions because, in his mind and the minds of many other delegates already determined on the British system eventually adopted, they were irrelevant and time wasting. Carruthers 85 Ibid., 16 September 1897, p.667. 86 Ibid., p.706. 87 Ibid., 17 September 1897, p.747. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 155 thought that the referendum should be used as in ‘Switzerland, to say both when a law should pass and when a law should not pass’.88 The referendum in relation to the disagreement debate was only part of the complex series of procedures proposed for use in this situation. But after much debate and fulmination it was eventually excised from the final clause, leaving a double dissolution followed, if necessary, by a joint sitting, as solutions to the problem. 89 The excision of the referendum from the provisions for settling a disagreement between the houses was achieved by Carruthers who moved an amendment that simply omitted any reference to a referendum.90 Kingston tried to reinstate it but his amendment failed by 30 to 11 and that of Carruthers’ passed by 29 to 12. 91 88 Ibid., 20 September 1897, p.861. 89 Australian Constitution, Section 57. 90 OR, 20 September 1897, p.930. 91 Ibid., 21 September 1897, p.967. This suggests that the referendum as a means of settling disputes was never readily embraced by the delegates though it did reappear as the means of changing the Constitution (Section 128). As can be seen in the debates on the Swiss Constitution, delegates were often vague on detail about other Constitutions, which weakened their arguments if challenged. Perhaps they had not spent enough time in the libraries. In this a pattern can be seen to emerge of the imprecise knowledge of other Constitutions which suggests that the delegates were not really interested in solutions beyond the Westminster system and were reluctant to adopt unfamiliar procedures. Downer was correct in his assumption that the concept of equal powers in the Senate would not be accepted for Australia, with delegates fixated on responsible government as in the British example. In this aspect Switzerland was not to be a model for Australia. In spite of the time spent debating the Swiss model, it was not seriously considered by the delegates, although it has been frequently referred to as a model for Australia. Its example was followed only in relation to the referendum and only then on the issue of constitutional change. Chapter 5: The Lamp of Experience 156 It was left to Glynn to introduce another model with some thoughts on the situation in France, thoughts which revealed that, following the pattern already observed, he was not altogether sure of his facts. Glynn supported the notion that the ‘Senate could not justly be asked to act merely as a registering machine in the case of money bills’. A House of Lords he said may be required to yield in case of conflict (as an unelected institution) but the French Senate which ‘sprang from universal suffrage’ could not reasonably be required to efface itself.92 In fact the French Senate at this time was part of the Third Republic established in 1870. It was elected by mayors and councillors in departments (counties) throughout France, not by the general populace and, as was typical of upper houses of that period, was dominated by conservative and rural interests. France was not referred to again as a model.93 92 Ibid., p.962. Though the delegates referred to many and various constitutions some of their arguments are unconvincing and the unavoidable impression is that they were not seriously interested in any but the British model. Only if a procedure in another constitution offered some solution to problems they recognised from history or their experience, as in the case of Norway and the joint sitting, Switzerland and the referendum, and the United States with equal representation in the Senate (which will be examined in the following chapter), were they prepared to overcome their predilection for the British model. If any innovation or departure from the ‘lamp of experience’ was to be accepted it had to be fashioned to fit the Australian situation, as demonstrated by the inclusion of a joint sitting and the referendum in Australia’s constitution. The passage of the 1832 Reform Act licensed them to innovate without turning their backs on their past. 93 A Web of English History ‘European history’. http://www.historyhome.co.uk/europe/3rd-rep.html. Accessed 17 July 2008. http://www.historyhome.co.uk/europe/3rd-rep.html� Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 157 Chapter 6 A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought: the Senates of Canada and the United States as models for the Australian Senate The dangers of democracy brought out some extravagant language expressed forcefully by such as Alexander Hamilton of the United States, who warned of the ‘impetuosity and fickleness of the popular House’, and Canadian historian Alpheus Todd, who expressed the need for a ‘counterpoise to democratic ascendancy’ and ‘a proper forum for sober second thought’.1 This danger is a theme which runs through the entire narrative of upper houses, even though in so many cases the reality has proven that the vision is delusional, not least in the case of Canada where the nominated Senate became, in the words of Professor Stephen Leacock, a ‘refuge of place hunting politicians and a reward for partisan adherence’.2 Canada and the United States were both British derived communities and occupy the same continent. Yet they differ markedly in their Constitutions. What did Australia learn from their examples and what did it copy or adopt for its own Constitution? Canada was in a very similar situation to Australia when it created its Constitution in 1864, being a British Colony, which remained as part of the British The vision however, persisted, and the Constitutions of both the United States and Canada established upper houses at least partly based on this fear. These upper houses and constitutions are frequently cited by historians as models for Australia and this chapter will examine how much influence they had on the decisions of the Australian Convention delegates in the design of their Senate. 1 James Bryce, The American Commonwealth, vol.1, (London: Macmillan, 1889), p.147; J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers: An Inductive Study in Political Science, (Oxford: The Clarendon Press, 1910), p.4. 2 J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers - an Inductive Study in Political Science, new, revised and part rewritten ed. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1927), p.98. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 158 Empire after it gained independence. For these reasons it was regarded in the early days as the major model for Australia. In view of these factors this chapter will treat Canada first. The influence of the Canadian example on the delegates to the Australian Federation Conventions will be first examined by discussing Canada’s history and progress towards federation. This will be followed by a discussion on the Canadian situation at the time of the Australian Conventions to compare the differences and the similarities, and then by an examination of the comments of the delegates in relation to the Canadian example. The history of Canada differs in many respects from that of Australia as does its government. The major historical difference is that the Canadian territory was first settled by the French and there has always existed a significant French population. Nevertheless its Constitution, established in 1867, was regarded as a likely model for Australia. This is not only because it too was a British Colony, but especially because it had already successfully federated under the Crown, complete with a bicameral Parliament which included an upper house, the Senate. Canada’s British colonial history dates from 1763 and the Treaty of Paris when France formally ceded Canada to England after its defeat in the Seven Years War.3 3 John G. Bourinot, Canada under British Rule, 1760 - 1900, (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1900), p.38. Subsequently Canada, or Quebec as it was then known, was governed directly by Britain until 1774, when a Governor and Council, with the power to make ordinances or laws in relation to the government of the Colony, were appointed. At that time Quebec comprised several separate provinces, and representative government was acquired by them in stages: Nova Scotia, 1758, Prince Edward Island, 1773, New Brunswick, when it was created in 1784, Upper and Lower Canada (now Ontario and Quebec), 1791, and Newfoundland, 1832. In 1791, in an attempt to ease tensions between the French and English communities, the Province of Quebec was divided into the provinces of Upper Canada, with a predominantly English population, and Lower Canada, with a Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 159 predominantly French population.4 Each province gained a Legislative Assembly and a Council. The Assembly of Upper Canada, which adopted English law, had sixteen elected members and the Council seven members who were nominated for life.5 John Graves Simcoe (the first Lieutenant Governor of Upper Canada from 1791-1796) believed that the province should be made 'as nearly as may be a perfect image and transcript of the British Government and Constitution'.6 It was first envisaged that the Council would evolve into a hereditary chamber on the lines of the House of Lords and provision was made in the Constitution for the King to award hereditary titles to members of the Council in order to create a kind of aristocracy—the Colony’s equivalent of the House of Lords. 7 This proved to be unworkable and unacceptable. The idea was ridiculed in the British Parliament when the new Constitution came up for debate and Charles James Fox, a prominent British Whig politician, passionately derided the idea as ‘a kind of second-rate, half-hearted House of Lords in the wild woodland’ which would ‘stink in the nostrils of the natives’;8 strong language. Fox saw the futility of pioneer peerages and ridiculed the idea of an appointed legislative council. He argued that in a frontier society individuals would succeed or fail on their own talents and toughness. He saw that colonial nobility, instead of attracting respect, would excite only envy and ridicule. In spite of this scorn the provision remained in the Constitution but was never implemented, becoming a dead letter.9 Confederation was the major milestone in the development of British constitutional practice in Canada and it was to this model that Australian Federationists looked for direction. The ‘Act of Union’ was drawn up at the Quebec Conference in 1864 Responsible Government followed for the other Provinces between 1848 and 1855 and Confederation of all the Provinces came in 1867. 4 William B. Hamilton, The Transfer of Institutions, (Durnam N.C., London: Duke University Commonwealth Studies Center, 1964), p.61. 5 Bourinot, Canada under British Rule, 1760– 1900, pp.91-2. 6 Ged Martin, Bunyip Aristocracy, (Sydney: Croom Helm, 1986), p.27. 7 Bourinot, Canada under British Rule, 1760–1900, p.92. 8 W.R. Wilson, ‘Historical Narratives of Early Canada’, (Parliament of Canada, 2004). http://www.uppercanadahistory.ca/pp/pp1.html. Accessed 19 June 2008. 9 Martin, Bunyip Aristocracy, p.24. A similar proposal was rejected in New South Wales in 1854. http://www.uppercanadahistory.ca/pp/pp1.html� Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 160 and subsequently passed by the Imperial Parliament as the British North America Act (BNA). The Quebec Conference, whose directing spirit was Prime Minister John Macdonald, took eighteen days and passed seventy-two resolutions, in sharp contrast to the debates on the Australian Constitution, which took several months.10 At the Conference it was agreed that the Senate should represent the Provinces in proportion to population, and there were proposals that it be elected subject to age and property qualifications. However this was ruled out in favour of an appointed house, though still with a property qualification. The Quebec debates included lengthy discussions about the form the upper house should take, but there was never any question of whether there should, in fact, be an upper house. 11 This was intended to create a wise and conservative house, and the ‘proper forum for sober second thought’ suggested by parliamentary writer Alpheus Todd. Todd saw a Second Chamber as a necessary institution in Colonies entrusted with the powers of local self- government. It would be a ‘counterpoise to democratic ascendancy in the popular and most powerful assembly’ and afford some protection against ‘hasty and ill- considered legislation and action arising from the impulsive first thought of the Lower House’.12 Thus the debates leading to federation and held between politicians representing governments of the future states, were influenced by both a legacy of bicameralism and also, in some measure, due to the inherent instincts of the Federationists which were firmly focused on British tradition and a perception of themselves as British. Prime Minister Macdonald, according to Bourinot, ‘aimed … to follow as This phobia of the dangers of democracy was a recurring theme in arguments in support of a second chamber throughout the British world. It is found in comments by the delegates to the Australian Conventions and was a thought in the minds of many of them when considering the Senate and it clearly was a factor in the Canadian deliberations. 10 Bourinot, Canada under British Rule, 1760–1900, pp.206, 290. 11 British North America Act, 1867, Section 4(23). 12 A. Todd, Parliamentary Govt. in the British Colonies, p.698. Quoted in Marriott, Second Chambers - An Inductive Study in Political Science, p.96. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 161 closely as possible the fundamental principles of English Parliamentary government’.13 Canada perhaps, was hardly a free agent; English prepossessions might account for adherence to the English model, alike in 1791, in 1840, and in 1867, but it is important to note that the British Government held control over the structure of Government and the Act. The British North America Act is in fact the template of the Constitution. As in Australia this attitude, so clearly expressed by Macdonald, can be explained in part, by the notion of path dependency. In Canada, at the time of federation, it was to the familiar political pattern that the Federationists, all experienced practitioners, instinctively turned. Marriott has noted the Canadian deliberations were conducted under the watchful eye of the British Government, a factor that was far less important in Australia. 14 The precipitating factor for Canadian Federation was the American Civil War which had just concluded (1861–1865). The war filled Canadians with grave doubts about the United States Federal system and some uneasiness about the stability of their neighbour. Consequently, the American model of relatively powerful States and a less powerful central Government was rejected in favour of an exactly opposite model: the Act limited the powers of the Provinces by explicitly listing those subjects delegated to them by the Central Government and the residual issues became the responsibility of the Central Government. The BNA, 1867, is an Imperial Act of the British Government and it united the Canadian provinces into a single federation called the Dominion of Canada. As Marriott noted, it is the basis of the Canadian Constitution. 15 The evidence shows that Canadian Federationists were motivated by a strong disposition to follow the old familiar pattern as a basis for the new legislature. The result was a Constitution in a traditional and comforting mould, which had worked Otherwise the system of government put in place followed the same pattern as governments in the Provinces—formed with the assistance and approval of the British Colonial Office. 13 Bourinot, Canada under British Rule, 1760–1900, p.209. 14 Marriott, Second Chambers - an Inductive Study in Political Science, p.2. 15 British North America Act, 1867, Section 91. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 162 for the Canadians in the past. The strong British influence, amounting almost to control, is evident in the preamble to the Act which explicitly states that the colonies desired ‘to be federally united into one Dominion under the Crown … with a constitution similar in principle to that of the United Kingdom.’16 In the original draft of the bill the union was actually to be called the ‘Kingdom of Canada’ and the amendment to the Dominion of Canada came from the imperial ministry: the phrase the ‘Mother Country’ seems apposite here.17 Initially there were four units or Provinces in the Canadian Federation: Ontario, Quebec, Nova Scotia, and New Brunswick. The Constitution of Canada was one of which delegates to the Australian Conventions would have been aware and, some at least, familiar with its structure, provisions, and its efficacy or otherwise in practice. 18 It was slightly different for the Senate where the Constitution specified that ‘Canada shall be deemed to consist of Three Divisions: Ontario; Quebec; and the Maritime Provinces: Nova Scotia and New Brunswick.19 Each Division returned twenty-four senators, a total of seventy-two. The Act gave the Governor authority to admit new members to the Federation by the passing of appropriate Acts by the Imperial Parliament and by 1880 all the Provinces, which comprised the whole of modern Canada except Newfoundland, had been admitted. By 1910 there were eighty-seven members of the Senate, distributed in accordance with relevant Acts.20 New members were accorded representation in the Senate on an equal basis with the original Provinces in order to maintain equality of representation.21 16 Ibid. 17 Bourinot, Canada under British Rule, 1760–1900, p.215. 18 British North America Act, 1867, Section 5. 19 Ibid., Section 22. 20 Ibid., Notes to the Constitution, No. 75. 21 Marriott, Second Chambers - An Inductive Study in Political Science, pp.141-152. The new Canadian Parliament of 1867 comprised the classic trinity of British legislatures: the Queen or Sovereign (represented by the Governor-General), the Senate and the House of Commons. In Canada even the name of the lower house was taken from Britain, though Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 163 rejected in Australia as inappropriate due to its class connotations. ‘It raises a class distinction’ quoth Patrick Glynn of South Australia.22 Members of the first Canadian Senate were appointed for life by the Governor- General and there was a provision that more Senators could be added in equal proportions for the provinces on recommendation from the Queen. 23 The presiding officer of the Senate was called the Speaker and also appointed by the Governor- General. An upper limit on the number of Senators, initially seventy-eight, precluded the ‘swamping’ of the house in the case of disagreement. The qualifications for senators included the requirement that they must be possessed of property worth $4,000 net in their home provinces and be at least thirty years of age. The Constitution provided for a similar limitation on the powers of the Senate as in the British upper house. The Canadian version is that the powers of the houses are equal but only the lower house can originate money bills and any Bill, including money bills, must pass both Houses before it can become law. The Central Parliament in Canada also has the unique power to veto provincial legislation if thought necessary.24 The major differences between the Canadian and Australian Senates are that the Senators in Australia are elected, not nominated; they each serve a term of six years and half of them retire every three years and another election is held. In contrast the Canadian Senators were nominated for life. There are no property requirements in Australia as there were in Canada in 1897, the age limit is twenty- one, not thirty, and the presiding officer is not a nominated Speaker but a Senator elected as President by the other Senators. These features of the Australian Senate owe more to the United States model than either the British or Canadian. The time factor is an important consideration here in that the Canadian model, enacted in 1867, was based on the provincial constitutions originally structured in This was unlikely to find favour in Australia in 1897, as was Section 56 which gives the Sovereign the power to annul any Act of the Central Government of Canada. 22 OR, 14 April 1897, p.628. 23 British North America Act, 1867. Section 26. Since 1965 Senators must retire at the age of 75. 24 Bourinot, Canada under British Rule, 1760–1900, p.321. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 164 the 18th century. By the 1890s ideas about Government had changed to more democratic and independent views. The Canadian Senate was thus only a model for Australia at a very general level. The British model of a Monarch, an upper house and a lower house and responsible Government are features of both legislatures. Equal representation in the Senate is a similar feature, though in Canada some smaller provinces are combined for representation. There the similarities end.25 E.R. Hunt claims that Henry Parkes was an advocate of the Canadian model in 1890, but was opposed by Griffith who ‘defeated’ him on the question. The Canadian model was discussed thoroughly at the 1890 Australian Conference, and not always in positive terms. In the end it was features of the American Federal structure the delegates found to be the better model for an Australian Senate, persuaded perhaps by Inglis-Clark or, more likely, the work of James Bryce (see chapter 2). 26 I venture to say that I have never alluded to the Canadian Constitution in any way that would justify the inference that I have any intention, so far as I may have the power, of copying it. I only alluded to it once, and that was in my letter to Mr. Gillies, which opened the correspondence on this subject. Since then I have never alluded, except by way of illustration, to the Dominion Government, either in speech or in writing. This is what I said in my letter of October 30th, 1889:-‘The scheme of Federal Government, it is assumed, would necessarily follow close upon the type of the Dominion Government of Canada’. In spite of Hunt’s claims, Parkes, in a speech to the 1890 Conference, vehemently denied being a strong advocate of the Canadian model, claiming he had only mentioned it in correspondence with Duncan Gillies, then Premier of Victoria, in the pre- convention years: 27 25 Bourinot gives a comprehensive list of the differences between the two Constitutions in 1900; Ibid., pp.315–326. 26 Hunt claimed that Parkes desired a Canadian type federation but that this was defeated by Griffith’s eloquence. E.M. Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, (New York: Columbia University Press; London P. S. King, Ltd., 1930), p.19. 27 OR, 13 February 1890, p.80. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 165 Parkes also attended the Convention of 1891, but as chairman made few contributions to the actual debate. He did not survive to attend the Convention of 1897. Gillies followed Parkes in 1890 with the comment: ‘I have no doubt in my own mind but that we shall find the Canadian Constitution is about the best basis that we can select’.28 Griffith’s major speech on the subject in 1891, while admittedly eloquent, was not especially critical of the Canadian model, though neither did he advocate it; nor did he mention Parkes’ speech. These remarks were made early in the process and support the view that Canada was initially looked upon as a likely model, but further debate made it clear that most delegates did not agree. Though the general attitude to Canada as a model for Federation was rejection, the model of the upper house was closely considered. 29 Both Deakin and Playford were much more vehement in their opposition, Deakin declaring ‘I have no ambition to see a second chamber in these colonies which should be a mere replica of the Canadian Upper House, which is confessedly inadequate for the position which it occupies’.30 Playford was equally hostile to the Canadian example. In his speech to the 1890 Conference he said ‘I am quite certain that if we are to build up a Federation on the Canadian lines, the colony of South Australia will never agree to it’.31 The Draft Constitution for Australia, drawn up by Andrew Inglis Clark in 1891, demonstrates that he had considered the Canadian model carefully and was not impressed: ‘I am persuaded that the people of the Australian Colonies are not prepared to accept a Senate on the model of that of the Canadian Dominion’. 32 28 Ibid., p.93. 29 Ibid., 4 March 1891, p.30. 30 Ibid., 5 March 1891, p.74. 31 Ibid., 10 February 1890, p.17. 32 John M. Williams, The Australian Constitution: A Documentary History, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 2005), p.68. In his draft Clark rejected the idea of nomination of Senators for life, though not nomination itself, instead proposing a fixed term as in the United States, and he was possibly strongly influential in the decision of 1891. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 166 As with Clark, the principal objection by the delegates was to the appointment of Canadian Senators for life by the Governor-General. John Macrossan said he would be ‘utterly opposed to the idea’. 33 No doubt the experiences of some of the delegates with their own upper houses persuaded them to reject this course. As we have seen in 1891 the decision was to have the Senators nominated by the States’ Parliaments but by the time of the 1897 Convention election of Senators by adult (male) suffrage and for a limited term, replaced this decision. Objections to the nomination system were that it was not in the spirit of federation and could easily lead to ‘improper patronage’.34 The ubiquitous subjects of power over money Bills, equal representation in the Senate and co-ordinate houses, were the major issues where the Canadian example was cited. Griffith was especially heated in his objection to the limitation of the Senate’s power over money bills, calling the idea a ‘fetish’. He fumed that ‘they have the English system in Canada … [where] the powers of the senate are naturally and properly restricted’. He was referring to the non-elected nature of both institutions as a reason for the restriction, but in his ideal Australian Senate this would not apply as the senators would be elected. The property qualification and a minimum age limit for senators different to that of the electorate, were other features of the Canadian model which were rejected, but with little comment. 35 The Canadian model was also considered on the topic of equal representation for the States in the Senate. This was a thorny topic and brought forth a comment from Higgins who argued that in Canada they did not have equal representation. In spite of fervent resistance by the smaller states Australia eventually adopted the English and Canadian examples and restricted the power of the upper house over money bills. In Britain and Canada the only limitation on the upper house is that it cannot originate money bills; there are no special provisions for amendments or rejections. 36 33 OR, 12 February 1890, p.73. 34 Ibid., 24 March 1897, p.80. 35 Ibid., 5 March 1891, p.64. 36 Ibid., 25 March 1897, p.99. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 167 Trenwith agreed with him.37 The argument was not cogent as the peculiarities of Canadian geography and history and the different pattern of settlement there played a large part in all the decisions on the issue of equal representation. Some of the inequalities of the provinces were overcome by combining smaller provinces into one entity for Senate purposes: initially Nova Scotia and New Brunswick as the Maritime Provinces, but the principle of equal representation was generally observed, though more on a population basis.38 The question of admission of new states to the Australian Federation brought out more comparisons with the Canadian model, which makes provision for new states on an equal basis with original states. Canadian history was a strong factor in Canada’s decision in that there was a hope that those parts of the continent not originally included in the Constitution would eventually join. Clark recognised this point in his argument that some states might not join the Australian Federation if all the conditions were not to their liking and suggested, without mentioning any limitation or conditions, that if states did not join at first they may come in later, as in Canada. 39 The issue of equal representation led into the question of increasing the number of Senators. Holder raised the topic in the debate on deadlocks, advising that adding upper house members had occurred in South Australia ‘and to a certain extent in Canada’. The possibility of adding new states to the Australian Constitution was less crucial than in Canada but there was a possibility that Queensland might divide into three states in the future and require equal representation on that basis. This was not a prospect that the larger states welcomed. The solution was that only original States, those that had signed the Constitution, would be entitled to all the privileges included in it, such as equal representation in the Senate and a guarantee of five seats in the lower house. This provision was unique to Australia. 40 37 Ibid., 30 March 1897, pp.330, 342. 38 British North America Act 1867, Section 22. 39 OR, 11 February 1890, p.29. 40 Ibid., 14 September 1897, p.562. In Canada the number of senators could be increased, by nomination, on the recommendation of the Governor-General, but only in multiples of four, to Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 168 ensure the continuity of equal representation. This is the key to settling deadlocks between the houses in Canada and equates to the British position. Formal provision was not made for deadlocks in the Canadian Constitution, in contrast to the unwieldy legislation put in place in Australia. The Canadian example was not considered appropriate and new Senators can only be added in Australia in equal proportions for the States and to retain the nexus between the lower house and upper house: ‘the number of Senators must always be as nearly as practicable half the number of the lower house’.41 Isaac Isaacs fought vigorously against the nexus provision right through the Conventions, making an impressive speech against it in 1898 which Barton described as ‘very elaborate and admirable’. Isaacs considered the provision would tie the lower house ‘hand and foot to the Senate because its numbers cannot be extended as the requirements of the population demand’ and as ‘absolutely novel’ in any constitution.42 The idea of co-ordinate powers of the two houses also brought Canada into the discussion when Downer supported this concept by saying co-ordinate powers applied in Canada. He was immediately contradicted by Isaacs and hastily withdrew his assertion. Though a minor correction it does illustrate again that delegates were not always sure of their facts and were occasionally speculating. In this case Isaacs knew better, he at least seemed sure of his facts, and Downer was quick to retract, which suggests he was not. 43 There was mild disagreement over the name the ‘Commonwealth’ as compared with the name of Canada as a Dominion. Grant claimed that the ‘great and general’ unpopularity of the Dominion Government was due in large part to its ‘unfamiliar’ name. He did not like ‘Commonwealth’ either, pressing instead for ‘United Australia’. This led to an argument about the name of the lower house and whether, like Canada, it should be known as the ‘Commons’. Symon scathingly asked if they knew the meaning of the term ‘commons’, implying that it was not to 41 Australian Constitution, Section 7. 42 L.F. Crisp, The Unrelenting Penance of Federalist Isaac Isaacs, 1897-1947, (Canberra: L.F. Crisp, 1981), The full text of Isaac’s argument is at OR, 3 March 1898, pp.1831-33. 43 OR, 29 March 1897, pp.209-30. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 169 distinguish between the common people and those he called the ‘nobs’. This brought out some humour with Reid sardonically commenting ‘Nobs Mr Symon’ and Barton asking if there were any Lords there to ‘distinguish’?44 That the Senate of the United States was one of two major models for Australia’s upper house is undeniable. Garran has shown that the British Constitution was also a model for the United States Constitution, which was, in effect, intended to be a republican version of the British Government with the Monarch replaced by an An awkward comment and a sarcastic play on the words of Symon, who was something of a pedant. The delegates learned a lot from the Canadian Constitution, though mostly in a negative sense, especially in regard to the lifetime appointment of senators. Nor did they copy the system of adding new senators, or equal representation for new states. These are important variations which can be seen both as illustrating the acceptance of advances in the concept of democracy and as a recognition of the problems that could be caused if the privilege of equal representation in the Senate was given to new States. Turning from the Canadian model what did the delegates learn from the United States example? It is generally accepted that the Australian Senate owes a lot to the United States Senate in its structure. What influence did the United States example have on the Convention delegates? Was it another example, if by a circuitous route, of path dependence? This section will examine the influence of the United States by discussing the history of the United States and its progress towards federation, the situation there at the time of the Australian Conventions, and comparing the differences and the similarities, followed by an examination of the comments of the delegates in relation to the United States to understand their attitudes and opinions on the subject. 44 Ibid., 4 April 1897, p.628. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 170 elected president.45 It is all very well to compare the position we are taking up here with the position in America. … We have had nothing else but this American Constitution from all sides of the House and to bolster up every kind of opinion, and I have come to the conclusion that the American Constitution is such a many-sided one that it can be used to back up every argument on every possible side of the federation question. A clear line of descent can be traced from Britain to the United States to the Australian Constitution. Not everyone approved of the reliance on the United States example and Vaiben Solomon expressed his displeasure forcefully: 46 The United States began existence as a Federation of thirteen original English colonies in the late 18th century. They were essentially self-governing under the Crown and there were two chambers in all but two, Pennsylvania and Georgia, a pattern repeated in the 1787 Constitution. Solomon was no doubt enunciating the thoughts of several of the delegates and he was correct in that the model of the United States was frequently invoked in the convention debates and sometimes on opposite sides of the same question. 47 The shape of the United States Constitution is derivative and the British heritage is evident in the structure of its Senate. James Madison (1751-1836), a delegate to The origins of the Federal Constitution were based upon conflict and rebellion against the rule of the British monarchy. The result was a staunchly republican United States, which, as a model, sits awkwardly with the equally staunch monarchical views of the Australian Convention delegates. Nevertheless, the delegates took many lessons from the United States experience, especially in the structure of the Senate. The major feature of the United States model that attracted the interest of the delegates was that it successfully combined two elements of the electorate into the legislature: the lower house on a popular vote; the Senate, or upper house, on a state vote. 45 Robert Randolph Garran, The Coming Commonwealth, an Australian Handbook of Federal Government, (Sydney, London: Angus & Robertson, Simpkin, Marshall, 1897), p.58. 46 OR, 17 September 1897, p.747. 47 Bryce, The American Commonwealth, p.245. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 171 the American Constitutional Convention in 1776 and co-author of the Federalist Essays, a primary source for interpretation of the United States Constitution, considered that the Senate's role was ‘first to protect the people against their rulers [and] secondly to protect the people against the transient impressions into which they themselves might be led’.48 Alexander Hamilton, another co-author of The Federalist Essays, saw one of the objectives of the Senate as ‘To restrain the impetuosity and fickleness of the popular House, and against the effects of gusts of passion or sudden changes of opinion in the people’.49 These early examples of the fear of the ogre of democracy were to be repeated by the Canadians and the Australians over a century later, as they structured their upper houses. While Australia drew many of its ideas for its Senate from America, the Americans drew on writers such as Montesquieu and his L’Esprit des lois (The Spirit of the Laws) as well as Aristotle’s Politics, to divide their government into the executive, judicial, and legislative branches. The Constitution itself was derived from Magna Carta, the common law traditions of Germanic tribes and Roman legal theory. The traditions of the British House of Commons and the Athenian assembly were followed for the design of the House of Representatives and the name for their upper house, the Senate, was borrowed from Republican Rome. In a departure from the ancient and European traditions, one of America’s first nations, the Algonquin, provided the word caucus for certain meetings.50 The United States Senate is a component part of its Government which follows the classic tripartite structure inherited from the British Government and the original American States. The legislature, known as the Congress, consists of two bodies: a Senate and a House of Representatives. Their functions resemble those of the two-chambered British Parliament, which had, before 1787, suggested the creation of a bicameral legislature in all but three of the original thirteen States of the Confederation. This was in keeping with the Imperial authorities controlling the destinies of the Colonies by ensuring that British traditions were upheld. The third 48 A compilation of these essays was published in 1788 and called The Federalist. 49 Bryce, The American Commonwealth, p.147. 50 J. McIver Weatherford, Tribes on the Hill, (New York: Rawson, Wade Publishers, Inc., 1981), p.6. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 172 component, the executive, is an elected President who was to hold office for four years.51 The claims of independent States, with different populations, to equal representation in the proposed central, federal government, determined the establishment and structure of the United States Senate. The arrangement, known as the ‘Connecticut Compromise’, was adopted at the Federal Convention (1787). The arrangement provided the several states with equal representation in the upper house together with proportional representation in the lower house, in order to balance the representation of large and small States in the Government. Without this inducement it would have been difficult to persuade the smaller states to join the federation and without this imperative there might have been no upper house in the American Government. This is why Bryce regarded ‘this masterpiece of the Constitution-makers’ as a ‘happy accident’. The President is the Chief Executive and appoints his own Ministers, who are not elected representatives. This is the most important difference between the American and the Australian Constitutions: in Australia Ministers are appointed by the Governor-General on advice from the Prime Minister and must be elected members of Parliament and Ministers are responsible to parliament: this is the essence of responsible government. 52 There are few positions more demonstrable than that there should be ... some permanent body to correct the prejudices, check the intemperate passions, and regulate the fluctuations of a popular assembly. Yet the fear of a ‘popular assembly’ was also a major consideration in the establishment of the United States Senate, a view frequently and forcibly expressed by Alexander Hamilton at the Federal Conventions in 1787: 53 He reiterated his concerns later in the same speech: popular Assemblies were, he claimed, ‘frequently misguided by ignorance, by sudden impulses, and the intrigues 51 Bryce, The American Commonwealth, p.126. 52 Ibid. 53 Alexander Hamilton in Jonathon Elliot, The Debates in the Several State Conventions on the Adoption of the Federal Constitution as Recommended by the General Convention at Philadelphia in 1787, 5 vols. (New York: Burt Franklin, 1787), vol.ii. p.301. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 173 of ambitious men, and … some firm barrier against these operations was necessary’.54 At the time of the Australian Federation Conventions in the 1890s, the United States Senate comprised two Senators for each State. A Senator had to be over thirty years of age, a United States citizen for nine years, and an inhabitant of the State for which he was chosen. The Vice-President of the United States, who was elected at the same time as the President, was ex officio President of the Senate. He had no vote except when a casting vote was required. Senators were originally nominated by the State legislatures and, in 1787, numbered twenty-six. By 1897 the addition of Senators from new states had increased this to seventy- six.55 it undergoes an unceasing process of gradual change and renewal, like a lake into which streams bring fresh water to replace that which the issuing river carries out. Each Senator served a term of six years and one third retired every two years at the time of the election of the House of Representatives (the mid-term elections) thus giving the Senate a perpetual existence. Bryce put it in poetical terms: 56 The powers of the United States Senate are threefold: legislative, executive, and judicial. The legislative powers of the Senate are the same as those of the House of Representatives except that it cannot initiate bills for raising revenue, though it may propose amendments to the Bills or reject them. 57 The Senate’s executive powers include approval or disapproval of the President’s nominations for Federal officers, including judges, ministers of State, and ambassadors, and to approve, by a majority of two-thirds, treaties made by the President. If a treaty does not achieve this majority then it fails. The judicial Otherwise its legislative function is to pass Bills along with the House of Representatives: a Bill must pass both houses and becomes an Act of Congress on the assent of the President. If the President withholds consent and returns a Bill for reconsideration, it can still become law if passed a second time by a two-thirds majority of each house. 54 Alexander Hamilton in Ibid., p. 302. 55 Bryce, The American Commonwealth, p.126. 56 Ibid. 57 Constitution of the United States, Section 7.1. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 174 function of the Senate is to sit as a court for the trial of impeachments preferred by the House of Representatives. These functions were not adopted for the Australian Senate. That the United States was an important model for the delegates is clear from the number of times it was discussed in the debates and, though it was not always considered a good model, admiration was expressed eloquently by several delegates. Playford addressing the 1890 Conference argued: We require something in the shape of the Government of the United States, where clearly defined powers are given to the Senate and the House of Representatives, and where all other powers not specified are left to be exercised by the local States and constituencies.58 I regard the Senate of the United States as being one of the grandest representative bodies in existence. It is quite equal to, if it does not surpass, the British House of Lords. Macrossan also spoke warmly of the United States: 59 The first issue to be raised—and on the first day of the 1890 Conference—in relation to the US model, was the procedures of the United States Convention in 1787 when, Playford argued, the Americans had not admitted the press to their Constitutional Convention. 60 This was an example Australia did not follow, and the press and public were admitted to all formal deliberations on the creation of the Australian Constitution, though not without dissension. Crisp tells us that George Dibbs in particular, and in accordance with his stated views on popular participation in constitutional change, fiercely opposed a formal motion by William McMillan to restrict public access to the proceedings. Dibbs argued for the admission of the press and the public because then ‘there will be no feeling that this is a secret enclave to take away the liberties of the people’.61 58 OR, 10 February 1890, p.18. 59 Ibid., 12 February 1890, p.73. 60 Ibid., 6 February 1890, p.viii. 61 L.F. Crisp, George Richard Dibbs: Premier of New South Wales, Prophet of Unification, (Canberra: L.F. Crisp, 1980); OR, 3 March 1891, p.12. The discussion reveals that even before they began their deliberations proper, delegates had the United States Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 175 in mind and suggests that the Conventions themselves were modelled on the United States and Canadian precedents. Deakin was another delegate who discussed the United States at the 1890 Conference. In a long speech he commended the American model and explained some of its features: That Government which has been supposed by some persons to be an artificial creation and not a natural growth—the Government of the United States-is a closely-allied offshoot from the British Constitution. Deakin recognised the legacy of the British system in the United States Government, which for the Australians gave added validity to it as a model. He then introduced the possibility of the Constitution requiring amendments and, without naming it and in a prescient moment, suggested a referendum might be the solution as in some American States: The ablest jurists in the United States consider the great difficulty of amending their Constitution to be a serious defect; but they find no such defect in their State Constitutions, where a safety-valve [referendum] has been provided in the appeal to the people.62 The main function of the 1890 Conference was to arrange for the 1891 Convention, and by then things had moved on. To begin with, Clark, who was the senior Tasmanian delegate to the 1890 Conference, had drafted a Constitution based on both the United States and the Canadian models but with variations to allow for the Australian situation. These comments, though generalised and included in rhetorical and formal speeches, introduced the Constitution of the United States as a serious possible model for the proposed Australian Constitution and it continued to be a major theme throughout the Conventions, the Senate attracting particular attention. 63 62 OR, 13 February 1890, pp.97-8. 63 John Reynolds, 'A. I. Clark's American Sympathies and His Influence on Australian Federation', The Australian Law Journal, July 1958, pp.62-75. All the delegates were given copies of Clark’s Constitution before the opening of the Convention, more evidence that the United States model Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 176 was on the table from the beginning. The Convention worked on a series of predefined Resolutions which Baker refers to here: only two words in all the resolutions which we have passed which are not identical with the American Constitution are those at the end of resolution No. 1 in the second series, because the American Senate can initiate a bill imposing taxation.64 Baker was incorrect here as the United States Senate had never been given the power to initiate bills imposing taxation. 65 A number of delegates preferred the British model. Parkes, for example, indicated his preference by using the instance, as discussed in another chapter, of the tragic incident with Charles Sumner to compare the United States Senate unfavourably with the House of Lords. This comment, from a generally well- informed delegate, is another example of the inexactitude of many delegates’ knowledge of other constitutions, coupled with an apparent willingness to make claims which could not be substantiated. This was a frequent occurrence when delegates discussed the Constitutions of other countries. Some of our ‘founding fathers’ it seems had feet of clay. 66 We cannot follow the model of the United States Constitution, because our constitution is totally different. We cannot, as a senate, perform executive functions when we have responsible government and a ministry responsible to the House of Representatives. Similarly Jennings complained that: 67 64 OR, 18 March 1891, p.464. 65 Constitution of the United States, Section 7.1. 66 OR, 17 March 1891, p.447. 67 Ibid., 6 April 1891, p.739. He was not the only delegate to note the discordance between responsible government as practised in the Australian Colonies and the executive model of the United States. In addition to Clark’s pre-circulated draft, the United States was brought into the 1891 debate by Baker with the comment that so many ideas came from America, including the composition of the Senate in: Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 177 providing for the election of a senate composed of an equal number of members from each province, with periodical retirements, constituting a body with continuity and perpetual existence.68 Other ideas sought from the United States included the powers to be assigned to the proposed Australian Senate, a crucial issue in the debates. In the opening discussions in 1891, James Munro, a supporter of the British system of responsible government, observed that: ‘In the United States the real executive power is in the senate, because the senate can veto the appointments made by the President, and there is no responsible government’. 69 Macrossan also raised this point when supporting equal powers over money bills ‘I have no fear of the senate ultimately becoming the master of the House of Representatives as it has become, to some extent, in the United States’.70 Comparison with the United States was also brought in on the question of the number of Senators for each State. Baker raised the issue in 1891, as being a copy of the United States system. Munro and Macrossan were referring to the powers of the United States’ Senate over appointments to positions in the executive and the judiciary, but which would not apply to the Australian model of responsible Government, where those powers were to be reserved to the lower house. 71 Munro sounded a caution about the proposal of eight senators for each of the seven states (he included NZ in 1891) which would mean fifty-six Senators. He suggested that might be impractical.72 Clark chimed in with the thought that the number of states in the commonwealth of Australia will never be anything like the number of states in America.73 Adye Douglas grumbled that ‘we have taken the United States as our example’. He clearly did not think this was a good thing, especially in relation to the limitation of the Senate’s power over money bills.74 68 Ibid., 18 March 1891, p.464. 69 Ibid., 5 March 1891, p.49. 70 Ibid., 17 March 1891, p.436. 71 Ibid., 18 March 1891, p.464. 72 Ibid., 1 April 1891, p.588. 73 Ibid. 74 Ibid., 6 April 1891, p.731. The final decision in the draft Bill of 1891 provided for eight Senators for each State. This was to change by 1897. The very different situation in the United States in terms of numbers of Senators made a Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 178 comparison meaningless. In America each State has two senators and this has never changed or been seriously challenged. New States are also allocated two Senators.75 The vexed question of whether senators should be selected by the State Legislatures or elected by the population was another subject for comparison with the United States where the senators were selected by their State parliaments. Griffith, Deakin, Cockburn and Playford SA, early expressed unfavourable views on the United States system in this matter. Griffith presented his views of the system, in a roundabout way, as open to corruption: ‘It has been found in the United States that the election of members to the state parliaments may often be determined by the views held by the candidates as to the proper persons to be elected to the Senate’. Cockburn concurred, also claiming that the system distorted the elections of States’ parliaments. On the other hand, the United States system did have its advocates. Two factors influenced the delegates in applying different provisions for Australia. The first was that the larger number of States in America meant that the number of senators was always enough to form a viable chamber. In Australia, two senators from each state would not have been enough to form an effective debating group, hence the decision first for eight, and finally six, senators for each State making a house of thirty-six members. 76 This is a point on which we can consult the experience of America, where exactly the same clause has worked for 100 years. I have never learned that they desire to alter their mode of electing senators. Playford for example thought Australia could do no better than to adopt the United States form of election: 77 The matter went to a vote with the result that senators be ‘directly chosen by the houses of the parliament of the several states’. A strong vote in support of the method ensued with thirty-four in favour and six against. 78 75 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.162. 76 Ibid., 2 April 1891, p.592—598. 77 Ibid., p.594. 78 Ibid., p.598. This also was to change by 1897. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 179 In the Convention of 1897, the United States Senate was still regarded as a model and looked to for precedent on several issues. Some of these were major and caused considerable angst among the delegates. Included were powers of the Senate, equal representation of the States in the Senate, election of senators and how to manage deadlocks. Other issues were minor or raised little controversy and were either accepted for the Australian Senate or rejected as unsuitable. Less controversial issues were: new states, term of office; secession; constitutional changes; and the name of the Federation. The United States example was introduced into the 1897 Convention by Isaacs who came in on the issue of Senate powers. He recalled that the United States delegates to the Philadelphian Convention debates had also argued over the distribution of powers. One party sought equal powers for both houses, the other wanted the same situation as in Britain, where the lower house was more powerful.79 The argument Isaacs referred to took place in the United States in 1787 before the British Reform Bill of 1832 had weakened the Lords, and which, at that time, still enjoyed putative equal powers with the Commons. In the event the United States adopted a compromise which Isaacs saw as ‘now a principle’: the power of the United States Senate to alter or amend money bills but not originate them. Isaacs did not approve of this. Downer as a proponent of equal powers for the Senate agreed with Isaacs, arguing ‘the only possible way of preventing Federation ultimately resulting in amalgamation was to have the House representing the States at least co-ordinate with the House representing the people’.80 Solomon favoured the British model over the United States and in a clear example of what we now call path dependence, argued that ‘It is far better to take the Constitution which the mother-country had adopted’, a path familiar to the self- 79 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.176. 80 Ibid., 29 March 1897, p.209. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 180 governing colonies of Australia, whereas he saw that in America the States had had governments which were ‘antagonistic to one another’.81 Carruthers, Cockburn, Solomon and Higgins all raised the United States Constitution as a model with varying degrees of respect or rejection. Higgins began with the thought that the adoption of the model of the United States would be ‘a step backward’. 82 Carruthers continued with a negative comparison claiming Australia was more progressive by the institution of manhood suffrage and equal political rights. On this premise he dismissed the United States as a model for Australia because ‘no such reforms have been wrung from the ruling authorities’ and asked ‘Why go to America and have the story told to us of the building up of the constitution there?’83 Cockburn was concerned that the powers of the States ‘may be gradually encroached upon and … reduced to comparative insignificance’ even with a powerful Senate as in the United States.84 Delegates also offered historical information about the United States constitution in the general discussions. The examples were mostly in the form of warnings. Lyne for example warned that the United States Senate was not created as ‘the portion of Parliamentary machinery which it afterwards became’. The originators he said were ‘groping to a large extent without any guide’ and in its original conception the Senate was conceived as a check upon ‘the great power of the President’. It seems the mood had changed somewhat since 1891 and the delegates were now less convinced that the United States Constitution was such a good model. 85 Baker considered that it had ‘in many respects turned out differently to that which its authors contemplated’ and Downer considered the United States Constitution ‘by no means a perfect one’. The Americans, he said, did not know about responsible Government and based their Constitution ‘largely on the writings of Montesquieu’.86 81 Ibid., p.255. 82 Ibid., 9 September 1897, p.263. 83 Ibid., p.271. 84 Ibid., 30 March 1897, p.340. 85 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.157-8. 86 Ibid., 23 March 1897, p.131; 29 March 1897, p.208. Deakin more thoughtfully suggested that although the Senate was supposed to Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 181 protect State rights the American experience indicated that that would not necessarily eventuate. States’ rights, he thought, would be fought for at least as earnestly in the House of Representatives as in the Senate. The founders of the American Constitution, he said, found the event falsified their predictions and the Senate was never ‘one whit in advance of the House of Representatives’ in defending States’ interests.87 Gordon became impatient with these history lessons, which he did not think ‘helped very much’ and expostulated: ‘The flowers of a hundred years have bloomed and perished on the graves of these gentlemen’ and added melodramatically that the history of the American Senate: ‘has not much more to do with our present position than the evolutionary struggles of our anthropoid ancestors have to do with our actions in this convention’.88 It was left to Barton to point out that the American Constitution was an attempt to ‘photograph’ the English Constitution but that the ideals of responsible government had not then been reached and if the United States constitution had been made much later ‘there would be much nearer approach to a responsible government in that Constitution’.89 Higgins, always a critic of the concept of a Senate, had an original thought about the composition of the United States Government. It was, he argued, a compromise between a confederacy and a federation: ‘the English guns were at the gates and they could not afford to have any state standing out so they compromised by having two houses: the house of confederacy and the house of Federation’ where the majority would rule. The British lineage of the United States Constitution is often overlooked by commentators who depict the choices as a simple binary: British or American. 90 The major issue in the comparison with the United States example was whether the Senate should have equal powers with the House of Representatives. This applied to all legislation but particularly to money bills because the upper house in 87 Ibid., 30 March 1897, p.296. 88 Ibid., p.324. 89 Ibid., 31 March 1897, p.380. 90 Ibid., 9 September 1897, p.262. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 182 the United States was limited in its power. This was a sticking point as it had been in America. O’Connor pointed out that the powers of the two houses in the United States were not equal. He also claimed that equal powers were ‘practically impossible in any country’.91 The major argument against equal powers was that with responsible government, where the executive is part of the lower house, equal powers are not practical. Higgins considered that there was no analogy with the United States because they did not have responsible government, though the Senate did have the power to amend bills imposing taxation if not to initiate them.92 restrain the impetuosity and fickleness of the popular House, and against the effects of gusts of passion or sudden changes of opinion in the people. The different allocation of powers in the United States rendered any comparison on this score irrelevant but this did not silence the delegates on the issue and during the debate Lyne held forth on what he thought should be the role of the United States Senate in addition to its executive powers and quoted Alexander Hamilton saying it should: Correct the democratic recklessness of the House of Representatives and the monarchical ambition of the President. and 93 It is not clear why Lyne felt it necessary to quote Hamilton on these unspecified and unofficial roles for the United States Senate but it does suggest that he thought they should apply to the Australian Senate. It also illustrates yet again the fear that democracy might be carried too far. Lyne continued that then: ‘The propensity of a single and numerous assembly to yield to the impulse of sudden and violent passion is restrained’. 94 This imagined role of upper houses as a restraint on lower houses appears again and again in discussions. It is a role that has never been given official status but resides permanently in the minds of many observers, undoubtedly stemming from 91 Ibid., 24 March 1897, p.51. 92 Ibid., 25 March 1897, p.98. 93 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.158. 94 Ibid. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 183 the original oligarchic ascendancy of the upper house in original legislatures, especially the British House of Lords. Baker waxed eloquent on the United States situation saying though the Senate could not initiate Bills imposing taxation, they could initiate Bills to appropriate revenue. Again Baker was inaccurate because Section 7, Clause 1 of the Constitution stated explicitly ‘All Bills for raising revenue shall originate in the House of Representatives’. This sort of error was disturbingly prevalent in the debates. He went on to argue that in many Federations very large powers were given to the Councils of State or upper houses, particularly in regard to approving or appointing executive officers and said it was these powers that preserved the rights of the States intact.95 Downer also wanted co-ordinate powers for the two houses. The United States, he argued, while limiting power on the initiation of Taxation Bills, balanced it with stronger executive power and control of foreign affairs, which made the Senate the ‘pre-eminent body’. He considered that America had copied Britain because it wanted to make its Government as ‘analogous’ to the British Government as possible. 96 In this Downer echoed Robert Garran’s conclusion and was correct in that the United States legislature adopted many features from the British model, though whether they had ‘wanted to’ is debatable. It may have happened subconsciously. Downer implied in this speech that copying Britain was a good thing and should also be done in Australia; remarks which demonstrated the strength of the urge to emulate Britain, a recurring theme in the debates. Glynn also had something to say about the United States Senate, arguing that ‘Every clause of the constitution, I believe, has been recast on the principle of allowing equal powers to the upper and lower houses; therefore there cannot be much danger in this bogy of the upper house’.97 95 Ibid., 23 March 1897, p.31. 96 Ibid., 29 March 1897, p.209. 97 Ibid., 23 March 1897, p.281. He made this comment during the debate on equal representation and sidestepped the main issue to argue in a rather imprecise speech for equal powers for the proposed Senate, the dangers of which he thought had been overstated. Trenwith saw it differently: ‘the American Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 184 people sought to make a compromise between responsible government and autocratic government making their little King only able to exercise his autocratic powers for a period and associating him with the Senate in some administrative matters’.98 Cockburn argued that the federal authority could encroach on State rights because this had occurred ‘even in America’ where the Senate was so powerful.99 The other major issue, at least in the minds of some delegates, was equal representation in the Senate. It is clear that the principle of equal representation of the colonies in the upper house was derived from the United States Constitution as a way to arrange the composition of the upper house in Australia. On the whole it was agreed that such a provision was necessary in order to persuade the smaller colonies to accept Federation, as had been the case in the United States and recognised as the ‘Connecticut Compromise’. Not everyone agreed with the principle. The most vociferous opponent of equal representation was Higgins who never ceased to oppose the idea, even when it was passed into reality. He used the United States as a model of failure on this issue and argued that the United States was not happy with the system: ‘Even in America there has been discontent with this equal representation. The people of New York say, and with good reason, that with their five or six millions of people they are only returning two senators, while Nevada, with 30,000 has the same right to return two senators’. But in spite of much vigorous support for some increase in the powers of the Senate on the lines of the United States example, the British system of responsible government was to be continued in the Australian Constitution. 100 Even some of those who supported the system were lukewarm about its advantages but used the United States compromise to support the case for its adoption. Wise said that the example of the United States had persuaded him to the view that ‘equal representation in the Senate was a practical necessity’. 101 98 Ibid., 30 March 1897, p.334. 99 Ibid. 100 Ibid., 25 March 1897, p.101. 101 Ibid., p.106. Lyne was another delegate against the system, if not so vehemently as Higgins. As Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 185 with other representatives of the larger colonies he considered equal representation to be undemocratic and asked, rhetorically, ‘What right has Tasmania to have as strong a power in the administration of New South Wales as New South Wales?’102 He considered that the United States did not ‘set out with the idea of the Senate as it ultimately emerged’ and he had always ‘as long as I have given the matter a thought’ been against equal representation in the Senate.103 Isaacs saw the United States Constitution as an attempt to have the bicameral system and, by analogy, to be as close as possible to the British Constitution. He argued that the provision for equal representation was included as a ‘provision for extraordinary emergencies’ and because those (smaller) states would not come in on any other basis, opponents of the idea were forced to give way and yield to the ‘Connecticut Compromise’. He implied by this speech that Australian delegates should also yield to the inevitable.104 Trenwith went on to say he reluctantly supported the idea as providing a balance against the possibility of the larger states combining to oppress the smaller ones, or the smaller states under this system ‘combining to infringe the rights of the larger states’, but he thought both were ‘improbable contingencies’, a thought which rather robbed his argument of relevance.105 Higgins returned to the fray with the claim that ‘the system has been absolutely futile and not served its purpose’.106 The issue arose again in September and Higgins again returned to his theme. He suggested that the idea was ‘one of the chief causes of the civil war’ in the United States.107 To support his claim he provided a long drawn out analogy to do with the slave states having equal representation, which suggests that he would have clutched at any straw to establish his case. He continued his argument with the comment that ‘the system was adopted under pressure in America and would not be adopted if they had to start again’.108 102 Ibid., 26 March 1897, pp.157-8. 103 Ibid., p.158. 104 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.175. 105 Ibid., 30 March 1897, p.336. 106 Ibid., 15 April 1897, p.647. 107 Ibid., 9 September 1897, p.264. 108 Ibid., 10 September 1897, p.349. Symon argued that equal representation was necessary and Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 186 ‘an essential part’ of the United States system. He claimed that in all federations on ‘true federal principles’ there has been equal representation.109 The clause providing for equal representation in the Senate was passed as read with a majority of 36 to 5. 110 The method of choosing Senators was another major issue, but while in 1891 it had provoked animated arguments, by 1897 the issue was settled. In 1891 the draft Bill proposed that Senators should be chosen by the Parliaments of each State. There had been conflict over whether Senators should be chosen in this way, or elected by the community. By 1897 the draft clauses from the Constitution committee for discussion by the delegates read ‘The members for each State shall be directly chosen by the people of the State as one electorate’. The threat of the smaller states not accepting Federation in the United States unless they had equal representation had been a real one and with the horrors of the war of independence still fresh in their memories the admission of the smaller states was seen as crucial by the United States Constitution builders. It is arguable that this was not such an imperative in the Australian case, though there was a possibility that the smaller states would not join, but the instinct to follow the United States example was strong; besides Clark had included this provision in his early draft. 111 This suggests that arguments put forward in 1891 and in the preliminary discussions in Adelaide in April 1897 had persuaded many delegates to change their minds on this issue. However the subject was far from closed. The matter was raised by several delegates in the preliminary discussions of the 1897 Convention with reference to the American experience. Higgins opened the subject to warn against following the United States example of nomination by the States because ‘they have the senators elected by the State parliaments which brings Federal politics into the arena of local parliaments ... this causes some disruption to state elections’.112 109 Ibid., p.293. 110 Ibid., p.355. 111 Ibid., 15 April 1897, p.641. 112 Ibid., 25 March 1897, p.102. Isaacs also considered nomination a bad thing: ‘the history of recent years Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 187 discloses … the bad working of the system’. The ‘State legislatures have frequently failed … to elect at all’. He gave alarming examples of some things that had occurred in the United States because the State legislatures had the power of nomination. This, he said, ‘cannot arise in a popular election at all’.113 Fysh seemed a bit confused but he clearly supported the nomination idea. ‘The Senate’ he claimed, had ‘stood the test of 100 years and is now elected by Congress’.114 He was immediately put right on this point by Isaacs and Barton, and hastily amended his speech saying he meant ‘by the State legislatures as … proposed under the Commonwealth Bill of 1891’; another egregious error on the part of a delegate.115 Forrest, also a supporter of nomination, pointed out that the United States Senate had been elected by the States for over 100 years.116 He was countered by Isaacs who said the ‘feeling in favour of an election of the Senate was gaining ground in America’.117 Later, in September 1897, Higgins warned that the United States Senate was becoming a house to ‘represent the rich men and the trusts’ because in the less populous states one or two ‘big silver men’ can get whoever they want elected.118 Downer confessed he had come round to election and deviating from the American system, for the purpose of making the Senate stronger and directly representing the people.119 Holder thought that direct election of senators by the community was a better representation of the individual states.120 Some of these speeches were made in the preliminary discussions in March 1897. When the Clause (Clause 10) came up for debate in September, the election issue was not further discussed, more attention being paid to the idea of each State being one electorate.121 113 Ibid., 26 March 1897, pp.176-7. 114 Ibid., 29 March 1897, p.244. 115 Ibid., p.244. 116 Ibid., p.248. 117 Ibid., p.177. 118 Ibid., 9 September 1897, p.265. 119 Ibid., 10 September 1897, p.372. 120 Ibid., 13 September 1897, p.387. 121 Ibid., 21 September 1897, p.989. In this matter, the example of the United States had been first adopted but discarded in 1897 in favour of senate elections. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 188 On other issues the comparisons with the United States Senate were not controversial. These included the admission of new States, term of office, secession, constitutional changes, name, and deadlocks. On these there was general agreement that the United States had little to offer, but the fact that they were cited reveals the extent of the dependence on the United States example. The comments of the delegates on these issues offer insights into their thinking on the United States model. For example the possibility of admitting new states was an issue in which the United States was cited but raised little comment. As with the model of Canada the possibility of adding new states to the Australian Constitution was less crucial than in the United States and the example was not followed. The subject of the term of office for senators was also compared to the United States experience. United States Senators are elected for a term of six years with one third retiring every two years, when Congress dissolves after its two year term. In the draft Bill produced by Clark, the term of office for Australian Senators was fixed at six years with retirement of half the members every two years.122 This was changed to every three years to match the terms of the Colonial Parliaments. Though the principle was accepted from Clark’s draft, there was little reference to the United States on this issue. The concept of the Senate having a continuous existence and Senators more security of tenure than the lower house, to enable members to focus more on the questions of the day than on re-election, was accepted without much discussion, in a way similar to the passive acceptance of the need for an upper house at all. Only Deakin referred to the United States on this point saying ‘What makes the power of the United States Senate is not its executive authority, but its fixed and longer tenure of office’.123 122 Reynolds, 'A. I. Clark's American Sympathies and His Influence on Australian Federation', p.69. 123 OR, 30 March 1897, p.291. The absence of comment from the delegates on this issue suggests that the work of Clark in his draft Bill, strongly influenced by the American Constitution, convinced the delegates that this was a sound provision. It is also true that ‘continuous existence’ has a long history in legislatures and was the method used in Colonial Parliaments. Of course, the House of Lords had a continuous existence par excellence. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 189 The topic of secession was introduced by Symon124 and Lyne and they agreed that secession should be ruled out because the American experience with their Confederation showed that if secession was not prohibited it would be a weak link. ‘We must frame a Constitution from which there shall be no secession … or else the same troubles which arose in the United States … will arise here’.125 Symon went on to suggest that the ability to secede had been one of the main causes of the ‘fratricidal war’ in the United States and felt that a ‘binding contract’ must be made between all the colonies.126 The subject was discussed animatedly in the preliminary discussions in Adelaide (1897) with speakers being unanimous in the opinion that there should be a clear provision in the Constitution that there should be no secession. This was accepted by the drafting committee which produced the version of the Bill to be debated. In the preamble were the words ‘The people have agreed to form one indissoluble Federal Commonwealth’ and these words remain in the preamble to the Constitution.127 The issue of changes to the Constitution also invited comparisons with the United States, mostly negative. The United States Constitution provides that to effect a change either two thirds of both houses, or … ‘two thirds of the several states’, shall call a convention for the purpose of proposing amendments, and amendments must be ratified by three fourths of the states. Turner, in the early days of the 1897 Convention, announced that he considered these conditions to be ‘difficult to bring into operation’. He hinged this on the relative powers of the States in America and those in Australia. He assessed Australian States as having seven times the power of an American state. 128 124 Ibid., 25 March 1897, p.128. 125 Ibid., 26 March 1897, p.162. 126 Ibid., 25 March 1897, p.128. 127 Ibid., 14 April 1897, p.620. 128 Ibid., 24 March 1897, p.49. Later Isaacs and Cockburn voiced their disapproval of the United States system. Isaacs claimed that ‘In America there are loud and frequent complaints concerning the difficulty of altering the Constitution’. He added a graphic quote from an otherwise unidentified Mr Stead, that there ‘exists an almost intolerable state of things there … arising … from the iron grasp Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 190 of the dead hand’.129 Cockburn further argued that ‘An amendment of the Constitution should not be made too easy, but on the other hand it should not be made too difficult. In America it is too difficult’.130 In the light of the American experience the name of the federation also came in for some discussion. Clause 1 of the draft constitution stated, ‘this Act may be cited as ‘The Constitution of the Commonwealth of Australia’. Symon strenuously objected to the term Commonwealth saying that it should simply be Australia, ‘because we want the name of the country over which this constitution is to extend … The word "Commonwealth" is not an expression of any form of Government. If it is, it is utterly inapplicable. The word “Commonwealth” is associated with "Republic"’. The final result in the Australian Constitution has similarities to the United States example but has made the process more onerous rather than less. In Australia changes to the Constitution can only be brought about by an absolute majority of both houses of parliament and approved in a referendum by an absolute majority of voters and a majority of voters in a majority of States. Although the United States example was not slavishly copied it did provide a template for the Australian decision. 131 He went further and discussed the fact that the word Commonwealth had been used before in England: ‘Hon. Members know that the word "Commonwealth" was adopted in England 200 years ago. It was done by Act of Parliament, which used the expression "Commonwealth" because they had beheaded their king’. Braddon helpfully added: ‘They could not call it a kingdom, because they had not a king’.132 129 Ibid., 20 April 1897, p.1021. He was probably referring to W.T. Stead, editor of the Pall Mall Gazette and an extremely well known journalist of his day. 130 Ibid., p.1022. 131 Ibid., 14 April 1897, p.617. 132 Ibid., p.616. There was then some desultory discussion of what exactly was the name of the United States Constitution and various suggestions, or guesses were made but no one seemed to be very clear or even interested and there was little support for Symon’s suggestion. In the event the Clause was accepted as read. (The name on the constitution of the United States is simply ‘The United States Constitution’.) Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 191 The model of the United States on how to deal with deadlocks raised little controversy because the delegates seemed unaware of the system used in the United States to settle disagreements. The delegates were of the opinion that there was no mechanism for resolving disputes between the Houses in the United States and that most problems were resolved along party lines. However, Marriott had pointed out that in the United States any dispute is settled by a conference of members of both houses, appointed by the President of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives; its report is generally accepted by both Houses.133 The Conference system has, in fact, been used by Congress since 1789 and is regarded as such an important part of the legislative process that the conferences are sometimes called the third house of Congress. The first sitting of such a conference took place in 1789, just two days after the first Congress sat.134 He thought that ‘a deadlock in the United States can be safely left to burn itself out’ and that ‘disputes between the two houses in the United States have no effect on The debate on this subject is the strongest indication of the gaps in the delegates’ knowledge and understanding of other Constitutions, particularly one on which they based much reliance as a model. Their ignorance of the existence of the Conference system in the United States would suggest that on this issue the United States did not seem to be a relevant example, but it still appeared in the heated discussion on that topic. The lack of knowledge is made clear by Deakin and McMillan whose major point on the subject in regard to the United States was that as deadlocks did not occur in Congress it should not be deemed necessary to cater for such an eventuality in Australia. Deakin, who could see no analogy between any Australian Government and that of the United States, came straight to the point: It seems to me that the difference between responsible government as we know it and the United States Government tells altogether in favour of the necessity of our insisting upon some solution of deadlocks. 133 Marriott, Second Chambers - An Inductive Study in Political Science, p.70. 134 David R. Tarr and Ann O'Connor, eds, Congress A to Z, vol. 3 (Washington: Congressional Quarterly Inc., 1999), pp.3-4. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 192 the executive government’.135 The debate on this issue emphasises the blissful ignorance of the details of the American system on the part of the delegates even though it might have been a useful concept. Similarly the subject of the Conferences held in the United States to settle differences between the Senate and the House of Representatives, is also mostly absent from the discussion of historians of the issue. Only Marriott mentioned it briefly but did not elaborate or give details. Another example of the gaps in the delegates’ knowledge of the United States has been provided by Alex C. Castles in his essay ‘Andrew Inglis Clark and the American Constitutional System’.136 The examples and models of Canada and the United States set precedents for the designers of the Australian Constitution. From that example they mainly drew their decision that the Senate would have equal powers with the House of Representatives in all but the imposition of taxation. From the United States they adopted the system of equal representation in the Senate and the system of six year terms with half the members retiring every three years. The major factor in the design of the Senate was equal representation of the States without regard for their populations. This was taken directly from the example of the United States and the vote on this issue suggests that, in spite of passionate arguments that this was undemocratic, the example of the United States was a mindset that no amount of persuasion would shift. Castles explains that Clark’s first draft of 1891 included a clause on the powers of the High Court and in this it varies from the United States model. This caused some confusion for Isaac Isaacs, Edmund Barton and others. Higgins thought it was in the United States Constitution, Isaacs wasn’t sure and Barton contributed ‘I fancy it is in some part of the American Constitution’. As Castles comments it was surprising that Barton and others had only a superficial knowledge of the American Constitution in which they were placing great confidence. 135 OR, 15 September 1897, p. 587-8. 136 Alex C. Castles, 'Andrew Inglis Clark and the American Constitutional System', in An Australian Democrat: The Life, Work, and Consequences of Andrew Inglis Clark, ed. Marcus Haward and James Warden, (Hobart: Centre for Tasmanian Historical Studies, University of Tasmania, 1995), pp.15-6. Chapter 6: A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought 193 The debates revealed some alarming defects in the delegate’s knowledge of these Constitutions and a certain lack of interest, suggesting that they came to the Conventions with the deeply held conviction that British was best, and where that did not fit, then the United States Constitution, also of British descent, was substituted. The dismissal of the Canadian system was largely due to the nomination system, not the overall structure which also closely followed the British system. It is clear that the Unites States was an important model for the delegates in spite of major differences in their Constitutions and major gaps in the delegates’ knowledge of some aspects, notably Conferences. Canada was not so influential because some of its provisions, such as the nomination of senators for life did not appeal to the Australian delegates, even though the basic structure is similar. Again it is clear that the delegates were deeply influenced by what Bolton has called the ‘subliminal’ influences in their adherence to the idea of a bicameral system, most especially the British example. With this they were all familiar, both from their British heritage and through their participation in their respective colonial governments modelled on the British. Though they were willing to express their knowledge and opinion of other more modern examples, they were not really viewed seriously unless they offered a solution to a problem as did the United States system of a States House. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 194 Chapter 7 The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power1 We shape our buildings and afterwards our buildings shape us. : Parliamentary Architecture and the Australian Senate 2 The monumental classic structure that is Victoria’s Parliament House crowns the rise of Spring Street in Melbourne with a grandeur and confidence worthy of any royal palace. The finest example of classical architecture in Australia, it was designed by a Scottish-trained architect, Peter Kerr, and stands on the slopes of Eastern Hill, the highest point of central Melbourne. Winston Spencer Churchill, 28 October 1943. 3 It is an excellent example of the symbolic aspects of the power and authority of rulers that—in Clifford Geertz’s terms—‘epitomizes the inherent sacredness of sovereign power’. Gwenda Robb, in her Master’s Thesis on Victoria’s Parliament House, has claimed that ‘Melbourne (and therefore her architects) saw itself as a latter-day Rome’.4 This chapter will argue that the British parliament, as well as being the principal influence on the structure of the legislatures as shown in previous chapters, was also the predominant influence on the architecture, inside and out, of the Australian Parliament and the predominant influence on the buildings of other Westminster style legislatures. Even in that great republic the United States, Westminster I would argue that in fact they saw the new Parliament building more as a latter-day Westminster Palace as so many aspects were drawn from that edifice. 1 Clifford Geertz, 'Centers, Kings, and Charisma: Reflections on the Symbolics of Power', in Culture and Its Creators, ed. Joseph Ben-David and Terry Nichols Clark, (Chicago & London: The University of Chicago Press, 1977), p.151. 2 Quoted in Gavin Stamp, 'We Shape Our Buildings and Afterwards They Shape Us: Sir Giles Gilbert Scott and the Rebuilding of the House of Commons', in The Houses of Parliament: History Art Architecture, (London: Merrell, 2000), p.149. 3 Gavin Souter, Acts 0f Parliament, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1988), p.36. 4 Gwenda Robb, 'The Role of Sculptural and Architectural Decoration in Parliament House, Victoria' (Unpublished Masters Thesis, Monash, 1993), p.14. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 195 influences are discernible in its Capitol despite the prevailing atmosphere of the time (1787) of a rejection of British tradition. I will argue that even though the architectural styles varied in execution they are variations on the theme of monumentalism beginning with the parliament building in Westminster from the 13th century. First I will examine individual parliamentary architecture to show how the traditions of monumentalism pervaded ideas for the buildings and study the origins of each building and how it was realised in its final form. This will be followed by an analysis of the internal layout and décor of the Australian Colonial upper houses and how the styles followed the dictates of the Westminster system, even when not strictly appropriate. In developing this argument it was important to pay detailed attention to the colonial parliaments where most of the delegates had cut their political teeth.5 The almost predestined architectural magnificence of Government buildings is a tangible manifestation of the significance of architecture in public life. Government buildings are in a direct line of descent from the royal palaces of kings and sovereigns. Monumental buildings housing national Governments, typically located at the centre of cities, are deliberately given a monumental style to exude the status and authority which they assume. Designed to elicit ‘a feeling of awe, or at least respect’ they both intimidate and reassure the governed with their strength, size and grandeur and are the most visible and ubiquitous symbol of the power, prestige and authority of Government. 6 The effect of this vision can be overwhelming. Aneurin Bevan, the British Labour politician elected to the House of Commons in 1929, vividly described the effect the grandeur of the House of Commons had on him when he first entered. It was he said ‘profoundly intimidating’ and that his first impression was that he was in church.7 5 The research was augmented by personal observation on field trips to each Parliament except Western Australia. 6 Ibid., p.12. 7 Aneurin Bevan, In Place of Fear, (London: William Heinemann Ltd., 1952), pp.5-7. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 196 People perceive greater status in impressive buildings than in other art forms because buildings are the ‘more durable, stable symbols’.8 Alain de Botton, in his book The Architecture of Happiness, argues that architecture is important, both to the onlooker and the occupier, because we are ‘different people in different places’: those inside absorb prestige from their magnificent environment and those outside perceive power in the spectacle.9 Edward Shils, an American sociologist, also considered that such buildings, as well as impressing the onlooker, bestow charisma as well as prestige on their occupants and that individuals achieve charisma in relation to the active centers of the social order with which they are associated.10 Geertz sees such monumental buildings as persuading people to perceive power in the same way that sacred buildings, such as churches and temples, persuade us to look for a God. Within these impressive buildings the rites and images through which sovereign power is exerted, ‘are cultural phenomena and historically constructed’.11 Occupants of such buildings, affected by the atmosphere of power and dignity, tend to respond accordingly with decorum and respectful behaviour, though this is usually reinforced by strict rules of conduct. Typically, monumental government buildings exist at the political centre of any complexly organised society.12 The major model for all Australia’s parliament buildings was undoubtedly the Palace of Westminster. Despite its predominantly Victorian exterior, modern Westminster is the product of nearly one thousand years of architectural development as a centre of government and a royal residence. In this respect Consider the Government buildings of Westminster, Washington, Canberra (since 1988) and the Australian colonial parliaments; most are centrally located, all are imposing, architecturally dominant, and set in a vista which enhances their consequence. The effect of such a vision can be overwhelming. 8 Robb, 'The Role of Sculptural and Architectural Decoration in Parliament House, Victoria'. Introduction. 9 Alain de Botton, The Architecture of Happiness, (London: Hamish Hamilton, 2006), p.13. 10 Quoted in Geertz, 'Centers, Kings, and Charisma: Reflections on the Symbolics of Power', p.151. 11 Ibid., p.152. 12 Ibid. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 197 William Hamilton’s comment on ‘devotion to ancient precedent’13 is apt, as many features of the building are based upon what went before, and this is a pattern that is evident in all the examples studied in this chapter.14 The present building is a successor to the original Royal Palace on the site occupied by Monarchs from Henry III (1207-1272) to Henry VII (1485-1509). The original Palace of Westminster was first used by the Parliament in Henry III’s reign and Henry VII allowed the Parliament occupancy of Westminster after he moved to the nearby York House (later the palace of Whitehall) in 1529.15 The building served as a Parliament until a disastrous fire in 1834 which destroyed much of the palace and completely gutted St Stephen's, a church which had been adapted to serve as the debating chamber of the House of Commons.16 Edward VI gave St Stephen’s to the Commons as their first permanent Chamber and it conferred on Parliament a heritage of Royal and ecclesiastical ethos that is carried on in many other Parliament buildings, such as Capitol Hill in the United States, and Canada’s ornate Gothic structure in Ottawa, and even in modern parliaments, such as Canberra’s late 20th century edifice.17 After the fire, Westminster Palace was slowly rebuilt and the first sitting in the magnificent new structure took place on 30 May 1850.18 To achieve such grandeur and size as in the new Palace takes much time in discussions, planning and actual construction, and delay is a major feature of the development of most Parliamentary buildings. The most common first step towards such an enterprise is to hold an architectural competition, a precedent set by the This is the majestic building which now occupies the ancient site in London. 13 William B. Hamilton, The Transfer of Institutions, (Durnam N.C., London: Duke University Commonwealth Studies Center, 1964), p.59. 14 David Cannadine, 'The Palace of Westminster as a Palace of Varieties', in The Houses of Parliament: History Art Architecture, ed., Iain Ross, p.49. 15 John Goodall, 'The Medieval Palace of Westminster', in Ibid, p.55. For a detailed history of the site and buildings for Westminster see Arnold Wright and Philip Smith, Parliament, Past, Present and Future: A popular and picturesque account of a thousand years in the Palace of Westminster, the Home of the Mother of Parliaments, (London: Hutchinson & Co., 1902.) 16 Jacqueline Riding, ‘St Stephen's Chapel: From the Crown to the People’, BBC History: 2005-04- 02. http://www.bbc.co.uk/history. Accessed 12 December 2008. 17 Goodall, 'The Medieval Palace of Westminster', pp.56-62. 18 M.H. Port, The Houses of Parliament, (London: Yale University Press, 1976), p.146. http://www.bbc.co.uk/history� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 198 United States in 1792, for the design of their Capitol. Westminster and then Ottawa, followed suit, and thus established a tradition. In Australia, Victoria, South Australia, Queensland, and Western Australia, as well as the new capital in Canberra, followed this tradition, in a clear example of path dependence in both a cultural and economic situation. The architectural competition to design the new building for Westminster was won by architect Charles Barry. There is little doubt that his basic design was influenced by the way the old Palace had developed over the years to accommodate the activities of Parliament. There were two chambers as the major features and, with similar ancillary facilities such as libraries, it echoed the design of the old Palace. This is a pattern which has now been adopted by many modern legislatures as a basic structure for their buildings. The conditions of the Westminster competition included a requirement that the building was to be in the Gothic or Elizabethan style.19 Of those alternatives Barry preferred Gothic, which came to be regarded as the ‘national’ style, but he was not entirely at ease in that medium and turned for assistance to Augustus Welby Pugin, who had decided to devote himself entirely to Gothic architecture. Historian David Cannadine has argued that Barry’s instructions were to design a building that was more like a royal residence than a democratic legislature, ‘instantly antique and self consciously historical, richly ornamented, and full of allusions to the national past, to which it provided a powerful physical link’.20 19 Andrea Frederickson, 'Parliament's Genius Loci: The Politics of Place after the Fire', in The Houses of Parliament: History Art Architecture, ed. Iain Ross, p.100. 20 Cannadine, 'The Palace of Westminster as a Palace of Varieties', p.15. In response to these instructions the new Palace of Westminster emerged as a perpendicular gothic extravaganza that magically fulfilled its role as a symbol of power, wealth and authority. Barry correctly calculated that the public expected a building that, in emphasising the age and dignity of the institution of Parliament, would reflect its Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 199 national pride. It also fulfilled Barry's architectural criteria for ‘grandeur of outline’ and ‘richness of detail’.21 The rebuilding of the Palace of Westminster was guided then by the desire to imply tradition in a carefully staged architectural programme that both borrowed from and added to the historical associations of the Westminster setting and demonstrated continuity with a suitable past, perceived as the nation’s Golden Age. 22 Australia has six State parliament houses and they are an assorted architectural collection, even though they have a similar staunchly British heritage and a faithful adherence to the basic concept of Westminster. This was the crucial model for Australia’s colonial parliaments, in anticipation at least but, due to financial constraints, some were perforce executed on a more modest financial and architectural scale. The first Parliament in Australia was in New South Wales and when its Council was extended in 1843 a new chamber was erected to adjoin the existing chamber. In the book, The First Parliament, Donald Ellsmore wrote that ‘The new chamber … must have been influenced by the Gothic styling of Pugin and Barry’s Houses of Parliament’. In line with this philosophy the new building retained within itself the age-old symbols, rituals and traditions that had grown up over the centuries of the life of the Parliament. The Canadian Federal and Australian Colonial Parliaments, whose existence as bicameral legislatures began after the completion of the new Westminster Palace, adopted the package wholesale. Only the United States departed from the traditions in any significant way but even there evidence of British traditional procedures can be identified in several areas. 23 As the Australian Senate is the focus of this thesis the first Australian parliament building to be dealt with in this chapter is the provisional Federal Parliament Although he did not use the term this was a clear instance of path dependence at work. 21 Alexandra Wedgewood, 'The New Palace of Westminster', in The Houses of Parliament, ed. Iain Ross, p.116. 22 Frederickson, 'Parliament's Genius Loci: The Politics of Place after the Fire', p.99. 23 Donald Ellsmore, 'The Colony's First Parliament House', in Australia's First Parliament, ed. Maisy Stapleton (Sydney: Parliament of New South Wales, 1987), p.38. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 200 building in Canberra, opened in 1927. It is a byzantine tale as the project was beset by problems and delays, but the underlying vision which gave it shape was in the minds of the delegates who crafted the Constitution, many of whom went on to hold the reins of power in the new nation.24 Australia’s Federal Parliament began its life in Victoria’s Parliament House in Melbourne until a capital city with a Federal Parliament House could be established, though it was not envisaged that the occupation would last for 26 years (1901 – 1927). Senators, as members of the Federal Parliament’s upper house, occupied the ornate Victorian Council chamber, surrounded by elaborate architecture and an interior decor which could not have failed to impress them. Several had also visited Britain, some in an official capacity which had brought them into close contact with the Imperial Government, and could have experienced first hand the magnificence of the House of Lords. A discussion of the various colonial parliament buildings, how they evolved and could have influenced the convention delegates, will follow. 25 The new provisional building faithfully fulfilled the suggestion of the ‘Report of the Federal Capital Advisory Committee’ that the new building would be ‘simple but decorous’ and is why the first Federal parliament building was by far the most These encounters would surely have influenced their ideas on a design for their future chamber in the proposed Federal Parliament House in Canberra. How different from the reality that was to come in 1927 when, at last, a Federal Parliament House was opened in the new Federal Capital, Canberra. A lack of time and finance had caused the initial plan for a splendid monumental building to be reluctantly postponed and led to the decision to erect instead a provisional building. The dream was not abandoned however, but put on hold until circumstances permitted the construction of a more ambitious project to fulfill the aspirations held since the 1890s. 24 Eighteen delegates went on to become Members of the House of Representatives, five of whom served terms as Prime Minister, and ten became Senators, one of whom served a term as President. http://www.aph.gov.au/library/index.htm, Accessed 30 August 2008. 25 E.M. Hunt, American Precedents in Australian Federation, (New York: Columbia University Press, London P. S. King, Ltd., 1930), p.16. http://www.aph.gov.au/library/index.htm� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 201 modest and unpretentious parliament building in Australia.26 It has since become an object of affection for its heritage and simple dignity, especially since the opening of its impressive replacement in 1988, which finally fulfilled the ‘monumental’ vision. Thomas Givens, then President of the Senate, made the reference to Canberra as ‘The Cinderella of Australia’ in 1923, in protest at the decision to erect a provisional building. His words aptly describe Canberra’s first Parliament House in relation to those of the State Parliaments.27 The erection of the first Federal Parliament building was fraught with difficulties and the many vicissitudes and delays forced Canberra to make do with the ‘Provisional’ Parliament House for over 60 years. The beginning of it all was when the American architect, Walter Burley Griffin, was selected by competition in 1911 to design the projected new city. Griffin’s designs included the expected grand Parliament building on a prominent site and, following a well-trodden path, a further Several difficult and unfortunate circumstances and delays contributed to this unpretentious outcome. The first delay was due to the provision in the Constitution that the Capital would be in New South Wales and not less than 100 miles from Sydney, a condition imposed to appease the conflicting claims of Melbourne and Sydney to be the Federal capital. The priority then was to find a suitable site. Fulfilling this provision was by no means an easy task and was not successful until 1911. The time span is not surprising as in the early years of the 20th century travel was difficult: there were only a few train and coach services and horses were the main means of personal transport. For West Australians, and those in far north Queensland the New South Wales southern tablelands must have seemed a long way away. It is not surprising then that these citizens of the newly-federated nation took comfort in a Senate’s role as a States’ House. Things at last began to move when the chosen site of Canberra was finally gazetted in 1913. 26 The Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, Federal Capital Advisory Committee: Construction of Canberra: First General Report, Melbourne: 1920-21, Buildings, sections 38, 40. p.11. 27 The Honorable Thomas Givens, Parliamentary Standing Committee on Public Works, Report Together with Minutes of Evidence, Appendices and Plans Relating to the Proposed Erection of Provisional Parliament House, Canberra, (Melbourne: Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, 1923), p.11. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 202 architectural competition was announced in 1913 for the design of the Parliament building. Sadly, this competition had to be cancelled and the whole project was brought to a standstill by the advent of the Great War (World War I) in 1914. The competition was withdrawn and not revived and it was not until 1921 that renewed efforts were made to establish the Parliament in Canberra.28 The conditions of the competition allow us to understand the intentions of the government for their Federal Parliament building. The booklet for entrants to the competition (Federal Parliament House Architectural Competition) was distributed on an international scale and discussed a stage set with ‘monumental Government structures sharply defined’. The requirements for the Chambers, including the Senate, were simply stated as a ‘Session Chamber’—‘a light and airy room, to seat initial membership of 50 with lateral tier benches and provision for ultimate expansion to seat a possible membership of 150’. It was to include a President’s Dais and seating and accommodation for the ceremonial openings of parliament, when the members of the House of Representatives would be present. Right from the beginning the stage was set to follow Westminster’s medieval traditions. 29 By 1921, after the delays of the war years, the establishment of a proper Federal Seat of Government was becoming urgent. Yet the expense of a large permanent building when there was still a huge war debt seemed too costly and the time required to conduct an international architectural competition and then raise a monumental building, made such a project impractical. A faster, more economical As bicameralism was by now well established for the Federal Parliament, which had already sat in Melbourne for thirteen years, it is not surprising that entrants to the competition were instructed to design along traditional lines, and there were no departures from the established pattern of two chambers and supporting facilities in the instructions to entrants. 28 Gay Hogan, Parliament House Canberra, 1927, Records Relating to the Design, Construction and Opening of the Provisional Parliament House, (Canberra: Australian Archives, 1997), pp.9–10. 29 Commonwealth of Australia, 'Federal Parliament House Architectural Competition', (Albert J. Mullett, Government printer for the State of Victoria, 1914), p.9. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 203 solution was sought.30 The Advisory Committee considered that the time was not yet ripe for the erection of the permanent monumental Parliament House at Canberra, for the reasons that it might be expected to cost anything up to two or two and a half million pounds: that the actual construction of the building would take perhaps seven years or longer, and that a former Government of the Commonwealth had made a promise to the architects of the world that when the erection of the permanent building was contemplated the design of the building would be selected as the result of a world-wide competition. After much debate a recommendation by the Committee of Public Works for a provisional building was accepted and financed by Parliament in August 1923. 31 With this recommendation the idea of a monumental building was put aside in favour of a more efficient, economical and timely structure. The Minister for Works and Railways (P.G. Stewart) said of the proposal, at the ceremony of the turning of the first sod: ‘While its design is on simple and economic lines, it will be substantially constructed in brick and will be of a commodious and comfortable character, presenting a good appearance architecturally’. 32 The Federal Capital Advisory Committee, formed to advise the government on the project, recommended in its first report in 1921, that the building should be ‘without pretension either in scale or architectural adornment’ and ‘the external architecture simple but decorous’. It was hoped that a Provisional Parliament House, as opposed to a ‘temporary’ building, could be constructed quite quickly and still be impressive enough to be respected as the Parliament, until more prosperous times when a traditional grand edifice could be constructed. This did not to happen until 1988. 33 30 Hogan, Parliament House Canberra, 1927, p.10. 31 Parliamentary Standing Committee on Public Works, Report Together with Minutes of Evidence, Appendices and Plans Relating to the Proposed Erection of Provisional Parliament House, Canberra, p.17. 32 Hogan, Parliament House Canberra, 1927, p.13. 33 Federal Capital Advisory Committee, Construction of Canberra: First General Report, (Melbourne: Government of the Commonwealth of Australia, 1921), p.11. It is important to note that this decision reflected the lack of funding and was in no way intended as a departure from the Westminster tradition of ‘monumentalism’ which was still contemplated as a project for the future. Unpretentiousness was definitely achieved in the resulting plain but elegant, two- Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 204 storey white building, described as of ‘stripped classical’ style. It is plain and functional, with verandahs and colonnades and strong horizontal lines.34 The Westminster Chair, as I remember it, is of most elaborate Gothic canopied design, … quite out of keeping with the simple, severe, free renaissance character of the Canberra building. John Smith Murdoch, a Scottish architect and the first Australian Commonwealth architect, was commissioned to design the building. He was not an admirer of ornate or ‘monumental’ architecture as is evidenced in his dismay when the Empire Parliamentary Association presented a faithful copy of the Pugin designed House of Commons Speaker’s Chair to the House of Representatives. As he expressed it: 35 His dismay was ignored. In his formal letter of thanks to the Speaker of the House of Commons, the Australian Speaker at the time (W. A. Watt) advised that the gift had been ‘most cordially received by the Members of the House of Representatives’. He also apologised for a delay in the formal acknowledgement as being due to the architect (Murdoch) who had ‘expressed some misgivings as to whether a Gothic chair would be in keeping with such a plain interior as is contemplated at Canberra’. However ‘we eventually succeeded in having the technical objection withdrawn’. 36 There were protests against a provisional building and the Senate tried to reject the suggestion while, as already stated, Thomas Givens thought it would make the The ornate chair still occupies its place in the Chamber and one can understand the architect’s objection. However, he was facing more powerful forces in the shape of the members of the executive of the Commonwealth Branch of the Association, as well the inexorable forces of tradition on the part of the parliamentarians and was ‘persuaded’ to give way. 34 Old Parliament House website http://www.oph.gov.au/content. Accessed 10 April 2008. 35 J.S. Murdoch to Mr Gale, Honorary Secretary, Australian Branch, Empire Parliamentary Association, 5 August 1925. NAA A1, 1923/20992, Erection of Provisional Parliament House, Canberra. Copies of many of these records are also available in the papers of Professor Gordon Stanley Reid, and the research file for his unpublished chronology of the Federal Parliament 1901- 1988, NLA MS 8371. 36 W.A. Watt, Speaker of the House of Commons to J.H. Whitley, Speaker of the House of Representatives, 6 October 1925. Copy in the papers of Professor Gordon Stanley Reid, folio 4.3.14, NLA MS 8371. http://www.oph.gov.au/content� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 205 ‘Federal Capital City the Cinderella of Australia’.37 I can say that the proposed building, although called a provisional structure, will prove so comfortable that there will be no great haste exhibited by members to erect and occupy an ornate permanent building. Murdoch’s ‘plain interior’ also caused some criticism and he defended it in his evidence to the committee: 38 The final buildings, erected between 1856 and 1904, evolved from the early Colonial legislatures which had been accommodated in convenient places, often a room in the House of the Governor. More spacious buildings to accommodate the This explains why Australia’s first Parliament was anything but ‘monumental’, and instead is a simple and unadorned building, though with an understated elegance and its own charm and appeal. It is now known as ‘Old Parliament House’, (instead of the ‘Provisional Parliament House’ under which label it spent its first 62 years). The building does not exude authority or power in the way of other more monumental buildings, but nevertheless, over the years it has achieved respect and affection as an icon which in itself is a subtle source of power. The vision of a monumental building for Australia was never relinquished but held on to through the Depression and the Second World War, and finally accomplished in 1988 when a splendid representation of authority and power was achieved in a New Parliament House building. Designed on a modern and less aggressive or ornamental concept of Parliamentary architecture it successfully follows the Westminster tradition by fulfilling the concept of monumentalism. Long before the Canberra enterprise all of Australia’s six Colonies had erected Parliamentary buildings, some of them ornate and monumental, others on a more modest scale. In most cases they had begun with a Council building to house the unicameral government before the advent of self-government in the 1850s and with it the adoption of the bicameral structure. 37 The Honorable Thomas Givens, Parliamentary Standing Committee on Public Works, 'Report Together with Minutes of Evidence, Appendices and Plans Relating to the Proposed Erection of Provisional Parliament House, Canberra ', p.11. 38 Ibid., p.24. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 206 enlarged councils followed and eventually, with self-government and bicameralism, a move was made to more suitable and sometimes purpose built premises. The two oldest Colonies, New South Wales and Tasmania, never undertook the building of a completely new House, though New South Wales aspired to on several occasions.39 Not all of Australia’s Parliaments are of the monumental style. As noted the two oldest, in New South Wales and Tasmania, are quite modest, and again the issue was finance. New South Wales appropriated a wing from the Sydney General Hospital in 1829, and Tasmania’s first Council met from 1841 in the ‘Long Room’ in The time just never seemed right and, given some of the obstacles faced by other jurisdictions in their efforts to build a suitably grand edifice, this is not surprising. The decision to build a Parliament was always momentous, involving much discussion on cost, site, and style. Once a decision was made and a site selected, Queensland, South Australia, Victoria and Western Australia, and in the 20th century the Australian Commonwealth, followed the example set by Westminster in 1835 and held architectural competitions for the design of their buildings. New South Wales also held an architectural competition in 1860 but the winning design, a predictably gothic and monumental structure, was never executed. The architectural styles differ somewhat in derivation, from the Roman grandeur of Victoria, to Western Australia’s Federation Classical and Queensland’s French Renaissance. These deviations do not contradict the argument that Westminster was the model for the colonial Parliament Houses. Though the architectural styles varied, the concept of architectural competitions leading to monumentalism was carried out in all except the Federal Capital, and that was more due to bad luck than to lack of aspiration. Further, all the finished buildings followed the basic Westminster plan of two debating Chambers plus supporting services, such as libraries and a central hall demonstrating clearly the influence of the British tradition. 39 New South Wales Parliamentary Library, 'Proposals to Build a New State Parliament House in Sydney, 1856-1969', in Reference Monograph No. 3 (Sydney: New South Wales Parliament, 1970), p.6. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 207 Customs House in Hobart, opened in 1840. Both of these legislatures gradually extended and adapted the accommodation and it was further extended and renovated to accommodate the new bicameral structures. The failure to build a new Parliament on the advent of self-government in New South Wales is why its Parliament building is the oldest in Australia. The building became the seat of government in 1829 and, although much extended and renovated, is still the seat of Parliament today. Tasmania has the next oldest building, which was originally the Customs House and it has been occupied by the gradually enlarging legislature since 1840 and remains the home of Tasmania’s parliament. In contrast, Victoria opened a new Parliament House in 1856 (completed in 1892) and South Australia’s current building dates from 5 June, 1889, when the House of Assembly first occupied its chamber. The building was not then complete having only one chamber, and the Council had to wait until 1939, fifty years later, before it was finally able to move into more spacious accommodation. Queensland, which became a separate colony in 1859, began to build its Parliament in 1865. First occupied in 1868 it was completed in 1889.40 The New South Wales building is a modest, low building of colonial aspect. It was gradually adapted from its medical origins to accommodate a bicameral legislature in 1856, and has been described as ‘a building consisting of the remains of an old hospital and a second-hand iron house’. Western Australia was even later as it did not achieve self-government until 1890. The Parliament building was first occupied, though not completed, in 1904, which, when compared with the others, is a surprisingly brief period of construction. 41 40 Bruce Buchanan and Associates, 'The History of Parliament House, Queensland', (Brisbane: State Works Department, Queensland 1983), p.37. 41 New South Wales Parliamentary Library, 'Proposals to Build a New State Parliament House in Sydney, 1856-1969', p.7. The reference to an iron house is because, faced with a need to accommodate a two-chamber legislature at a time of an acute shortage of labour and building materials, a hasty decision was made to purchase a prefabricated iron building imported from England. The building, which Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 208 has a façade cast in imitation masonry with pilasters and mouldings, was modified to serve as the Chamber of the Legislative Council and annexed to the original building. The building and the ‘iron shed’ are still the home of the New South Wales Parliament despite attempts to replace them with a more traditionally grand and monumental structure. There was always a desire in New South Wales to build a more prestigious home for the Parliament because of the perceived unsuitability of the accommodation, plus an aspiration for something more in keeping with the role of the building. To this end, and following the tradition set by Westminster, an architectural competition was announced in 1860. The winning design, by Henry Lynn, proposed a grandiose scheme of neo-Gothic design, elaborate and ornamental with turrets, pointed Gothic windows and a bell tower.42 According to the Sydney Morning Herald it ‘bore a general resemblance to the Doge’s Palace, at Venice’, a building dating from the 14th century and recognised as one of the great buildings of the world. It is described as ‘Italian Gothic with a strong planar façade and on slender columns and arches’.43 That is the tortuous tale as to why New South Wales does not sport a splendid and monumental Parliament building. But why doesn’t Tasmania? This is because Tasmania’s original historic structure is not quite as low key as that of New South The monumentalism of the design is clear and its Gothic theme loyally echoed the Westminster tradition. Such a building would have been a spectacular addition to the Sydney skyline and fulfilled all the requirements of a ‘monumental’ Parliament. Its extravagant splendour would have also been a challenge to the Victorian edifice and a tribute to the grandiloquence of Westminster, itself a Gothic temple. However, it was not to be. There is little doubt that the enormous costs associated with such an enterprise, and a reluctance to face the equally enormous challenge of actual construction, as well as arguments about the merits of the project, denied Sydney a grand architectural and traditionally monumental Parliament building. 42 Ibid., p.13. 43 The Web Site of Venice; http://www.venetia.it/m_ducale_eng.htm. Accessed 10 April 2008. http://www.venetia.it/m_ducale_eng.htm� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 209 Wales, though neither is it as grand and imposing as some other Australian parliamentary buildings. In classic Georgian style it is a pleasantly plain, stone, two-storey, convict built structure, fronted on its lower level by a colonnade, and commands a prominent site in Hobart overlooking Sullivans Cove. There was no ambitious architectural competition to design a new Parliament House for Tasmania. Instead the building, originally Customs House and first occupied by the Legislative Council in 1841, has been adapted and extended to serve as the Parliament House until the present day. Designed by the Government architect John Lee Archer, an English trained architect with an engineering background and, due to its Customs House origins, situated close to the waters of the Derwent,44 it is a classically plain building and its soft sandstone façade and heritage aspects are major features.45 For both New South Wales and Tasmania the historic legacies of their buildings add an extra dimension to their value to the citizens of their States. Their history and longevity, visible in their appearance, both inside and out, palpable during ceremonial occasions and memorable from significant events in the past, is as impressive and reassuring as a grand imposing building. As English historian Emma Crewe has argued ‘The visible presence of history is seen as powerful in itself’ and the sociologist Pierre Bourdieu contends that ‘to possess things from the past is to master time, and this mastery is social power’. 46 Victoria, South Australia, Queensland and Western Australia, in contrast to New South Wales and Tasmania, all chose to go down the monumental path to erect grand, imposing structures which convey power and authority visibly and aggressively. Of all the Australian State Parliament buildings Victoria’s is by far the Heritage buildings in this way possess an intrinsic value and convey a subtle aura of power as well as of reassuring continuity. 44 John Chilcott, 'History of Government in Tasmania', (Hobart: nd.), p.32. Held in Parliamentary Library, Tasmania. 45 Ibid. 46 Emma Crewe, Lords of Parliament, (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2005), p.213. Pierre Bourdieu, Distinction, (New York and London: Routledge, 1979), pp.71-2. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 210 most splendid and compares well with the impressive pile of the British Parliament, (opened in 1850) in its ostentatious concepts of grandeur and strength. Work began on the building in 1856, immediately after the granting of self-government. It was also first occupied in 1856, before it was completed, which was not until 1892 following a series of the sort of delays that seem unavoidable in such grand schemes, and it lacked the finishing touch of the proposed grandiose dome.47 Peter Kerr was the architect of Parliament House, Melbourne, and his design was described as a ‘magnificent classic design for a building of colossal proportions’. To the observer it is all of that. The west façade fronting Spring Street, is in the Roman Doric order of architecture with an escalation of sweeping steps (41 in all) rising to the impressive and massive colonnade which is flanked by wings taking the frontage to more than 90 metres across and rising to 23 metres. The temple like approach adds an ecclesiastical aura and inspires awe, respect and admiration. Yet it is a true interpretation of the monumental style of Government architecture, huge, imposing, and self-assured. 48 South Australia experienced the usual hesitations and delays in the construction of its monumental Parliament House and in some ways they were rather more dramatic than most as the State had to endure, in the centre of Adelaide, the mortifying vision of half a house for half a century. The story began in 1874 when South Australia’s present building was planned as another truly monumental structure in the Westminster tradition. Less graceful than that of Victoria its weighty solid design in light-grey marble, unambiguously proclaims strength, power and authority. A classical design, it has majestic marble columns with Corinthian capitals lining the front façade. Situated on the corner of North Terrace and King William Road in central Adelaide, the building is an outstanding city landmark and betrays its British inheritance in its commanding profile. 47 Robb, 'The Role of Sculptural and Architectural Decoration in Parliament House, Victoria'. Introduction. 48 Ibid., p.11. Clerk of the Parliaments, 'The Parliament of Victoria and Parliament House', (Melbourne: Parliament of Victoria, 1985), pp.18-19 Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 211 an architectural competition was held to design a general plan for the proposed new Houses of Parliament. Detailed drawings were to be provided to allow for only half of it to be built immediately.49 This was, perhaps, the first mistake, as the half house concept was to be perpetuated into the 20th century. The winners of the competition were architects Edmund Wright and Lloyd Taylor, but their design was to be severely hindered by indecision and conflict and it was not until 1877 that work on the foundations began. It soon stopped due, again, to financial and constitutional complications and wrangles between the two houses. The exposed foundations lay there as a reproof to the legislators and an embarrassment for the citizens for six years. It was not until 1881 that work could proceed and Architect- in-Chief E.J. Woods was commissioned to supervise the construction of the West Wing. The Assembly chamber was finally completed in 1889 and formally opened on 5 June. Adelaide then had to wait until 1939 for the second chamber which was only completed because of the generosity of Sir J. Langdon Bonython, the owner of the Adelaide Advertiser.50 Queensland’s Parliament House in Brisbane is unquestionably imposing, though in an attractive and unaggressive way, asserting power and authority with a gracious air. Opened on 4 August 1868, the general opinion of Queenslanders held their new Parliament House to be the ‘finest building in Queensland’. At the time of the Federal Convention, held in the Assembly Chamber of Adelaide’s Parliament in 1897, only the Assembly Chamber was completed and that was where the delegates debated. They sat in an unfinished Parliament which, nevertheless, exhibited all the signs of a Westminster style monumental building in evolution. 51 49 Pat Stretton, The Life and Times of Old Parliament House, (Adelaide: Old Parliament House, 1988), p.28. 50 Ibid., p.44. 51 Parliament of Queensland, 'Parliament House, Queensland', (Brisbane: Parliament of Queensland, nd.), Following tradition an Australia wide architectural competition was held in 1863 and won by Charles Tiffin, the Colonial Architect. Disputes and disagreements about the competition result meant that the winning design was never used. Instead a design of Tiffin’s for another building, a ‘block of buildings to be erected at the corner of Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 212 Queen and William Streets’, was adapted to the needs of a Parliament. The design of this building was for a Revival Classic building in French Renaissance style and conveniently and adequately fulfills the Westminster criteria for monumentalism and architectural splendour in a Parliament building.52 An imposing and elegant, arcaded building, it is situated in a commanding position on the corner of George and Alice Streets, and overlooks the extensive Botanic Gardens. Characterised by solid colonnades which keep the building cool in summer, the building, begun in 1865, was first occupied in 1868 and completed in 1889.53 The first stage of the building was described by the architects as ‘of federation, academic, classical’, style, a complex yet vague description. Western Australia’s Parliament building was opened in1904 after overcoming most of the usual obstacles of cost and design. The architect, Chief Architect of Western Australia, J.H. Grainger, was selected after all seventeen responses to a public tender for the design were found to be over budget. Grainger’s design was ambitious and certainly monumental, complete with the favoured dome, but fated not to be realised in full, the dome never made it. 54 In its final appearance it is a simple and colonnaded two-storey building with arched windows and a three bay façade, in a creamy grey and white-grey stone, which gives the building a light and pleasing presentation. There are ‘entry porticoes at the north and south ends of the central colonnade with six-panel double timber doors’.55 52 Bruce Buchanan and Associates, 'The History of Parliament House, Queensland', p.13. 53 Ibid., p.14. 54 Phillip Pendal and David Black, House to House, (Perth: Parliament of Western Australia, 2004), p.88. 55 Ibid., p.91. It stands on a ‘shoulder of Mount Eliza’ overlooking Hay Street, Harvest Terrace and St Georges Terrace. It was not greeted with great enthusiasm; the Daily News commented that the external appearance was not an imposing one, and the Western Mail coolly considered that ‘though rather squat’ it showed some admirable design in its stonework. The building has gone through many extensions Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 213 and alterations since 1904, one of which obscured the elegant colonnaded front which became part of the dining room.56 The Convention delegates had lengthy discussions on where the Australian capital should be sited, but they did not consider the question of a Parliament building or a parliamentary precinct. That was left for Parliament when established and a site for the capital agreed upon. As we have seen, this undertaking underwent many delays and it was not until 1911 that serious consideration was given to the issue of a new Parliament building. The Members of Parliament of the day, many of whom were former delegates, were familiar with the colonial Parliamentary buildings and probably aware of the grandeur of Westminster, they also would have had some knowledge of the building in the United States, which was older than the new Westminster Palace and, as a colonial initiative, could have been looked upon as a model of procedure and style. Except for Western Australia these buildings would have been familiar to the Convention delegates and could have influenced their concepts of a parliament building, concepts which would have been carried through the years until the time finally arrived for its construction, though circumstances were then more difficult than they could have envisaged. After Federation many delegates went on to serve in Federal Parliament, ten of them to the Senate, in its temporary home in Melbourne’s Parliament House. The grandeur of their temporary home would have impressed them, but they would also have been aware of the difficulties inherent in the construction of such a building. These difficulties would have influenced the decision to postpone the building of a monumental parliament until more prosperous times, and instead build a provisional Parliament House for Canberra. Nevertheless it is clear that a traditional monumental building for the new Federal Capital was planned from the beginning and achieved in 1988, even though the provision of a Parliament House was not a Constitutional requirement. 56 Ibid., pp.87-94. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 214 Nor would it have escaped their attention that the pattern of monumentalism had been adopted across the Pacific in Canada and the United States, where both had built impressively large and ornate seats of Government. The United States Congress building, established when the cornerstone was laid on 18 September, 1793, is the older, while the magnificent Canadian edifice was completed in 1866, and is another reminder of the effect that I have referred to as path dependence and tradition, as the truly amazing Gothic design undoubtedly was inspired by Westminster.57 The site chosen for the Capitol was, in the words of the first architect, L’Enfant, ‘a pedestal waiting for a monument’. The United States and Canada both established their Parliament buildings within a Parliamentary precinct, which included supporting Government buildings along with the legislative accommodation. Canada’s Parliament complex is situated in Ottawa on Parliament Hill while the United States Congress is situated on Capitol Hill in Washington. 58 The building is the centrepiece of the complex of Congressional office and library buildings and the legislative chambers. It is an imposing sight dominating the Washington skyline and presenting an unforgettable portrait of power and sovereignty. The whole is regarded as a fine example of 19th century, neoclassical architecture, combining function with aesthetics. Greece and Rome were the inspirations for the designs to evoke the ideals of the nations’ founders as they framed their new republic.59 Of the buildings under consideration this was the first to be the subject of an architectural competition, but it was not successful and instead, in 1793, a plan submitted by a Scottish trained physician Dr William Thornton was adopted. The A huge marble-clad cast iron dome, constructed between 1855 and 1856, dominates the profile, its pure 19th century arrogance almost overwhelming the classical façade of the original building. Though lacking the ornamental abundance and unique setting of Westminster, the Capitol, with its huge white dome, quickly became an American icon. 57 Alan Gowans, The Canadian Encyclopedia, Historica Foundation of Canada, 2007, ‘Parliament Buildings’, p.1. http://thecanadianencyclopedia.com. Accessed 10 September 2007. 58 United States Building Website ‘How the Location for the Capitol Was Chosen’ http://www.aoc.gov/cc/capitol/capitol_location.cfm. Accessed June 23 2008. 59 Ibid. http://thecanadianencyclopedia.com/� http://www.aoc.gov/cc/capitol/capitol_location.cfm� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 215 building was eventually partly occupied in late 1800, but it was not turned over to the Commissioner of Public Buildings until 1830.60 As with other aging buildings the Capitol has been ‘built and rebuilt, added to and burned, rebuilt and extended’ and modified over the years from 1793, including the replacement of the original dome, and it continues to be extended and modernised.61 Whimsical Gothic architecture is a phrase that has been used to describe the amazing Canadian Parliamentary complex in Ottawa. Begun in 1859 it was completed in 1866 and was the very epitome of monumentalism, with its magnificent Gothic spires ‘soaring towers, flying buttresses, vaulted roofs and pointed arches’. It has been described as the finest pile of stones in Canada. Its essential three bay profile has remained intact, and it retains its familiar appearance, the huge dome conferring a confident air of continuity, authority and sovereignty. 62 The complex post-dates both the new Westminster Palace in London which opened in 1850, and the United States Capitol, first occupied in 1800, buildings which could have inspired the Canadians to construct a monumental edifice to equal, or even challenge, those creations. The arrangement consists of the Parliament building and two departmental buildings, overlooking the city. From a distance it looks almost like a fairy palace and the ornate circular Library building in the style of a Gothic Cathedral Chapter House, is superb. Building commenced before Federation during the life of the colony of Canada, and it was immediately adopted as the Parliament of the Federation in 1867. 63 60 Ibid. 61 J. McIver Weatherford, Tribes on the Hill, (New York: Rawson, Wade Publishers, Inc., 1981), pp.14-15. One commentator has 62 Hans Tammemagi, Parliament Hill: The Heart and Soul of Canada, (Parliament of Canada, nd.) http://www.ttrn.com/dchanstammemagiparliament.htm. Accessed 2 September 2008. 63 Joseph Bureau, Handbook to the Parliamentary and Departmental Buildings, Canada, (Ottawa: Canadian Institute for Historical Microproductions, 1867), p.11. Janet Wright, Crown Assets: The Architecture of the Department of Public Works, 1867-1967, (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1997), p.8. http://www.ttrn.com/dchanstammemagiparliament.htm� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 216 argued that the ‘buildings are undoubtedly the finest example of Gothic revival in North America’.64 Canada followed the United States example by holding a competition in 1859 for the design of the building. It was won by Messrs. Thomas Fuller and Chilion Jones. Unhappily construction was delayed soon after commencement because the site selected, Old Barrack Hill, proved to be unsuitable. There were to be further delays and the site was closed down in 1861. Construction resumed in 1863 and in 1867 the new Canadian Dominion was formed and the Federal Government took over the building. 65 Sadly the original buildings, except the library, were destroyed by fire in 1916, however in ‘design and function the original buildings, were essentially similar to the present Parliament Buildings completed in 1921’.66 The buildings represent the external faces of the Parliaments and most of them in this selection have followed Westminster, certainly in the concept of monumentalism. The essential elements of grandeur, extravagance and authority have been included, even in cases where deviation and more simplicity might have been expected, such as the republic of the United States. In addition, the basic design component of two chambers supported by a library, refreshment rooms and other supporting offices is ubiquitous, confirming the tradition of the Westminster system of an upper and a lower house, and all enclosed in a grand display Canada’s magnificent building comprehensively fulfills all the requirements for a building expressing sovereign power. It is imposing, dominating, architecturally glorious and set on a magnificent site. It exudes power, splendour and authority to a great degree while also promising security. Its Gothic style follows the example of the new Palace of Westminster, as Canada was a loyal and obedient member of the British Empire, and to some extent that of the United States also, because, as well as fulfilling the traditionally monumental and imposing requirement, it has the supporting parliamentary buildings on the same site. 64 Chris Lund, Stones of History. Canada's Houses of Parliament; a Photographic Essay, (Ottawa: National Film Board of Canada, 1967), p.11. 65 Bureau, Handbook to the Parliamentary and Departmental Buildings, Canada, p.11. 66 'The Canadian Houses of Parliament', (Ottawa: Queen's Printer, 1953). Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 217 designed to impress. Borne on the forces of tradition, path dependence and public expectation the predilection towards monumentalism in such buildings was irresistible, however varied the final architectural creation. These influences on Australia’s first Parliament were muted by the circumstances obtaining in the country at the time, but corrected in the 1980s, a more prosperous era for Australia, when a magnificent new building was constructed as originally envisaged by Walter Burley Griffin, the architect of the city of Canberra. The new building fulfils all the requirements of a Parliament: it is commanding, impressive, and architecturally significant, though in a lower key than the 19th century examples just considered. It expresses authority and confidence without arrogance, and has deliberately avoided ornamental monumentalism, as such a building would not have had the approval of the electorate. From the buildings and external architecture let us now cross the threshold and return to the Australian Senate to consider the internal aspects of upper chambers in these buildings and how the Australian example was influenced by the historical precedents of sumptuousness, majesty and splendour, as displayed in the chamber of the House of Lords, while restrained by economic paucity, the influences of 20th century architectural styles and the ideas of its architect. Again the influence of Westminster is discernible in all the chambers examined here, and, as with the buildings, even in cases where deviation or even outright contrast might have been expected. In this section I will compare and contrast the similarities and differences of approach in the various upper houses, their dependence on the Westminster model and their relevance to Australia’s Senate chamber. The nomenclature of ‘upper’ house is the key to their relatively grander décor and accoutrements. The tradition, stemming from Westminster, that Councils and the Senate are ‘upper chambers’, regardless of the constitutional actuality, is reflected in their internal architecture, a gesture of conformity with the grandeur of the House of Lords. The major similarity is found in the seating arrangements and general layout of the chambers. In upper houses they usually follow the pattern of a Presiding Officer at the head of the Chamber with the members seated to the Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 218 President’s right and left and facing each other across a central aisle. The origin of seating arrangements, particularly the confrontational aspect, is frequently ascribed to the example of the House of Commons in Westminster. The Commons originally had no fixed chamber, but from 1376, and possibly before that, they usually sat in the Chapter House of Westminster Abbey, and, later, in the monastic refectory.67 From 1547 the Commons occupied St Stephen’s Chapel.68 According to Jacqueline Riding, an English parliamentary historian, it is generally believed that in the Chapel, remodelled for the purpose, members sat in the medieval choir stalls which had been increased and lengthened to accommodate them. They sat facing one another on the benches along the north and south walls, and the Speaker’s chair occupied the place where the altar had been. This almost accidental physical configuration is held by some historians of Parliament and former British Prime Minister Winston Churchill, to be of great constitutional significance, in that it encouraged the two-party system to develop. This, Churchill believed, was the essence of British Parliamentary democracy.69 This does not explain why the Lords, and upper houses in general, also adopted this basic pattern but, in fact, the Lords’ Chamber traditionally divided in this way, though for different reasons. Seating in the House of Lords was and is governed by strict and arcane rules, some of which were not adopted by other Westminster Upper Houses because they are simply redundant. The main rule though, is usually adhered to, and that is the seating of members of the Government to the right of the Presiding Officer and the opposition to the left. The tradition in the Lords, which does not occur in other Parliaments, is due to the presence in the The rectangular shape of St Stephen’s Chapel, and the resulting seating arrangements, were retained in the Commons in the new Palace of Westminster in 1850. Sketches of the Roman Senate also show this configuration suggesting that serendipity might have had less to do with it than is sometimes claimed. 67 Cannadine, 'The Palace of Westminster as a Palace of Varieties', p.55. 68 Arthur Irwin Dasent, The Speakers of the House of Commons, (London: Lond. Lane, 1911), 41.8.41; Cannadine, 'The Palace of Westminster as a Palace of Varieties', p.62. 69 Stamp, 'We Shape Our Buildings and Afterwards They Shape Us: Sir Giles Gilbert Scott and the Rebuilding of the House of Commons', p.149. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 219 Chamber of the Bishops, the Lords spiritual, which is unique to Westminster. There the ‘Lords spiritual sit in order on benches to the right of the king, and the Lords temporal to his left’.70 This is still the pattern of the House of Lords and is laid down in the Standing Orders. By convention, it is also the practice that Government members occupy seats to the right of the throne and Opposition members the seats to the left. Unaligned members sit on the cross benches facing the throne. Other seating arrangements in the Lords refer to such esoteric locations as the Steps of the Throne and where privileged persons may sit.71 Only Canada, Tasmania and New South Wales, have strictly followed the confrontational pattern of seating facing across the aisle for their upper chambers. Other Australian Colonial Councils and the Senate preferred to slightly modify this by converting the cross benches into an elongated horseshoe or U-shape. Notably, only the United States Senate rejected the Lords’ layout altogether, favouring a concentric semi-circular pattern where the presiding officer sits on a raised platform at the centre. The Democratic Party members always sit to the right and the Republicans to the left of the central aisle, whichever party is in the majority. 72 Although the various chambers differ slightly in seating layouts, apart from the United States the basic principle originating in the House of Lords (and in the Roman Curia) has been observed, with opposing parties facing each other across a central aisle and, as in the House of Lords, cross-benches provided across the aisle facing the presiding officer, or accommodation in the semi-circular rear seats of the U-shape to allow for non-aligned members. Though the United States Senate has a semi-circular arrangement, opposing parties still sit in separate sections. Otherwise the tradition of opposing members has informed the structure and format of the seating in all subsequent chambers, including the present chambers of the Lords and the Commons. 70 Henry S. Cobb, 'The Staging of Ceremonies in the House of Lords', in The Houses of Parliament: History Art Architecture, ed. Iain Ross, p.35. 71 House of Lords, 'Companion to the Standing Orders and Guide to the Proceedings of the House of Lords', (London: House of Lords, 2007),1.32, 1.33,1.34,1.35; Kenneth Bradshaw and David Pring, Parliament and Congress, (London: Quartet Books, 1972), p.175. 72 James Bryce, The American Commonwealth, (London: Macmillan, 1888), vol.1. p.57. Bradshaw and Pring, Parliament and Congress, p.197. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 220 The U-shaped layout is peculiar to Australia. It has two straight sides on either side of the Presiding Officer in the traditional confrontational pattern, and rear seating curving around the back of the chamber and designated as cross benches. Clement McIntyre, an Australian historian, has argued that the ‘oppositional seating arrangements assume and encourage the division of members into two distinct groups that face each other’. This arrangement was justified in the design brief for the 1988 Australian Parliament—because all seats more or less face the chair, unaligned parties can be seated in a neutral position and a large Government majority can spread into opposition side of the chamber without compromising the basic oppositional character of the chamber.73 A new chamber was built for the unicameral Legislative Council in New South Wales in 1856 and, on the advent of bicameralism soon after, this Chamber became the Assembly Chamber. In 1878 as the number of members of the Assembly increased additional seating was installed in the chamber as semi- circular cross-benches across the back of the chamber, forming the U-shape. 74 The Council was then accommodated in the ‘big tin shed’ where the seating was confrontational with cross-benches, as in the Lords. This was one of the earliest attempts to accommodate a Council Chamber after bicameralism, the others being Tasmania and Victoria where the Council Chambers also date from1856. In Tasmania the layout is traditionally confrontational, in Victoria it was made U- shaped. Historians have signally failed to explain why the decision to adopt this layout in Victoria was made, except for the example set by New South Wales.75 73 Clement Macintyre, 'Parliamentary Architecture and Political Culture', in the Australian Senate Occasional Lecture Series, (Canberra: May 2008). 74 Carol Liston, 'The Legislature of New South Wales', in Maisy Stapleton ed., Australia's First Parliament, p.54. 75 Sources consulted include Robb, 'The Role of Sculptural and Architectural Decoration in Parliament House, Victoria'. N. Chlebnikowski, 'The Historic Development of the Building of Parliament House' (B.Arch Thesis, University of Melbourne, 1971); George Jenkins, A Short History and Description of the Parliament House, Melbourne, (Melbourne: Royal Commission on Parliament Buildings, 1886); Raymond Wright, A People's Counsel: A History of the Parliament of Victoria 1856-1990, (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1992), Parliament of Victoria, 'Parliament House Victoria: Birth of a Building', (Parliament of Victoria, 2001). Discussions with officers of the Parliament also brought no results. Later buildings have all adopted the U-shape as did the Provisional Parliament Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 221 House in 1927 though, as noted above, the Architectural Competition in 1911 called for ‘lateral tier benches’.76 Other major features of the layout of upper house chambers concern the Presiding Officer and officials. The Presiding Officer in the Lords is the Lord Chancellor. Chosen by the Prime Minister he or she is a member of the cabinet and the Government’s chief legal adviser. This is an ex-officio appointment in the same way that the Vice-President of the United States acts ex-officio as the Presiding Officer of the United States Senate. (For seating arrangements in the Upper Chambers discussed see Appendix 2) 77 The Lord Chancellor sits at the head of the chamber but below the throne on an extraordinary seat known as the ‘woolsack’. This is a scarlet, square couch which gets its name from the fact that it was originally stuffed with sheep shearings to symbolise the importance of what was, in the 14th century, England’s staple trade.78 Judges and serjeants-at-law occupy four other similar but smaller woolsacks in the centre, and behind is the Clerk’s Table, furnished with two dispatch boxes, from which Government and main Opposition Party front-bench spokesmen speak.79 At the time of the establishment of its colonial Parliaments and of the Australian Conventions, the Lords chamber was (and still is) the very epitome of an ‘upper’ House with its extravagant architecture and traditions of grandeur and solemnity. Facing the Throne and below the Table, are the crossbenches occupied by peers who adhere to no party. Apart from the woolsack, these traditions have been generally followed in most Parliaments and a table below the President’s desk is provided for the Clerks and Chairman of Committees, with an extension down the centre from where the leaders of the parties address the members. Not all Chambers are exactly the same; the table in the South Australian Council Chamber, for example, does not have an extension and the party leaders address the Chamber from their seats on the front bench. 76 Commonwealth of Australia, 'Federal Parliament House Architectural Competition', p.9. 77 Bradshaw and Pring, Parliament and Congress, p.61. 78 Sir Harry Boyne, The Houses of Parliament, (London: B.T. Batsford Ltd., 1981), p.38. 79 Donald Shell, The House of Lords, (London: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1992), p.100. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 222 As Crewe put it ‘The Lords chamber is infinitely grander than that of the Commons, with a spacious, comfortable and ornate debating chamber’.80 On entering the chamber the overwhelming impression is one of richness and colour and a wealth of fabulous and vivid mediaeval ornament. The amazing, golden, throne canopy is the glittering centrepiece and the rich, deep red upholstery, the deep blue carpet with two swords lengths picked out in red, dark carved wood furniture, panelled walls, vast paintings and rich ornamentation, enhance the dazzling effect.81 The English House of Lords, with its fretted roof and windows rich with the figures of departed kings, its majestic throne, its Lord Chancellor in his wig on the woolsack, its benches of lawn-sleeved bishops, its bar where the Commons throng at a great debate, is not only more gorgeous and picturesque in externals, but appeals far more powerfully to the historical imagination, for it seems to carry the middle ages down into the modern world. In a book read by many Convention delegates Bryce described it like this: 82 The past is everywhere: soaring arches, the luxuriance of sculpted dead kings sprouting from the mouldings, painted historical tableaux on the walls, marble statues of deceased parliamentarians. The ceremonies seem of another era, binding the everyday to ancient splendour; and the names, titles and families of some hereditary peers are a roll call of national history. Crewe was also moved to purple prose by the magnificence of the chamber: 83 Crewe saw the spectacle of the Lords chamber as presenting ‘a seductive version of the nation's history, apparently unfolding in perfect continuity from the place in which one stands’, though it also has some qualities which ‘jar on the nerves’: a ‘public school atmosphere; elaborate architecture; and the historical 80 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.1. 81 Boyne, The Houses of Parliament, p. 38. Sir Robert Cooke, The Palace of Westminster: Houses of Parliament, (London: Burton Skira Ltd, 1987), p.135. The blue carpet referred to by Boyne was replaced in 1984 as an exact replica of the original to Pugin’s design. The two sword lengths according to Lord Cathcart (Hansard, 6 November, 1984) were omitted in the 1984 carpet as they were regarded as superfluous having never been needed in Lords. The two sword lengths are now only in the House of Commons. They are a red strip in front of each of the front benches and of a sufficient distance apart so that even if the two Front Benches drew their swords the tips would not touch and no harm would be done. Lord Cathcart, Hansard, 6 November 1984. 82 Bryce, The American Commonwealth, p.156. 83 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.9. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 223 associations’.84 The architects Barry and Pugin were responsible for the lavish decoration of the Lords chamber and for making it more spectacular than the Commons.85 We should note here that many of Australia’s Convention delegates had travelled to the metropolis and may well have visited Westminster, particularly Graham Berry, who had served as the Victorian Agent-General in London from 1886 until 1891. Henry Higgins too, had spent some time in London on his extended honeymoon trip in 1886, and Patrick McMahon Glynn studied law at the Middle Temple during 1878-79.86 Following the tradition of the Lords most colonial Upper Houses are more sumptuous and grandiose than the lower houses. In Australia the most flamboyant example is in Victoria’s Council Chamber, which is a symphony of gilt and scarlet, with elegant pillars, elaborate carvings and decorations. Significantly, this chamber was the home of the federal Parliament for the first 27 years of its existence, which surely reinforced the predilections of many members, including many former delegates. The opulence of Victoria’s council chamber reflects the fact that the Parliament was built in an era of prosperity and confidence for the Colony, as a result of the wealth derived from the gold rush. The same cannot be said about the chamber of the Australian Federal Senate of 1927 which was constructed in an era of economic stringency and time constraints and followed the edict of the Parliament that ‘The Legislative Chambers and other apartments would be embellished internally with restraint’. 87 This was because the building proposed was not designed to be the permanent parliament building; that had to be postponed until more propitious times because of a lack of funds and time. 84 Ibid., p.9. 85 Shell, The House of Lords, p.100. 86 John Rickard, H.B.Higgins: The Rebel as Judge, (Sydney: George Allen & Unwin, 1984), p.66; Gerald O’Collins, Patrick McMahon Glynn: A Founder of the Australian Commonwealth, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1965), p.15. 87 Federal Capital Advisory Committee, 'Construction of Canberra: First General Report', (Melbourne: Government of the Commonwealth of Australia, 1920-21), p.11. As a result it is neither grandiose nor sumptuous. However, even in its simplicity the chamber echoes its patrician heritage, with faint reminders of the grandeur associated with the House of Lords, especially in the deep, red décor of the seating Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 224 and dark wood paneling, which combine to give it a quiet warmth and charm. Many traditions, rituals, symbols, and procedures were adopted from the Lords by Australia via the Colonial Parliaments, and they clothe the simplicity of the Chamber with an air of dignity. In 1988 the new Australian Parliament House also followed this ancient tradition, though in rather less rich shades. In the design of the Provisional Parliament House for Australia, many ideas were considered. Some participants in the enterprise spoke from their experience of international chambers, as well as the more familiar colonial examples. Architect Murdoch claimed: I have had opportunities of inspecting Parliament Houses in other countries of the world, notably at Westminster, Washington, Ottawa, Toronto, and I have also visited the Parliament Houses in Berlin, Paris, and Vienna.88 He was a well travelled man and from his experiences in regard to the chamber layout, and subliminally persuaded perhaps by the power of tradition, Murdoch favoured the British model of parallel benches facing each other. Lively discussion about the layout of the seats is recorded in the ‘First General Report of the Federal Capital Advisory Committee’ on 18 July 1921. Percy Thomas Owen, Director- General of Works, argued for the ‘horse-shoe’ or U-shape, which he said ‘is much the better; each member is equidistant and … there is a much better distribution’. 89 William Watt, then Speaker of the House of Representatives, argued that ‘it should be a semi-circular chamber, and not the rectangular one provided on the plan’.90 Murdoch himself, as noted above, commented that he had seen many Parliament Houses and favoured the system used in the British Houses of Parliament because everybody can see the speaker.91 88 John Smith Murdoch, Parliamentary Standing Committee on Public Works, 'Report Together with Minutes of Evidence, Appendices and Plans Relating to the Proposed Erection of Provisional Parliament House, Canberra', p.24. 89 Percy Thomas Owen, Director-General of Works, Department of Works and Railways, in Ibid., p.2. 90 The Right Honorable William Alexander Watt, Speaker of the House of Representatives, in Ibid., p.28. 91 John Smith Murdoch, Ibid. The seating layout which was finally recommended in the Report was that it be semi-circular and facing the Presiding Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 225 Officer who would sit in the centre of the long wall.92 Though this was accepted by Cabinet, in fact, the final design was for the U-shaped layout and the presiding officer in the centre of the rear or short wall.93 Despite an intensive search of the relevant records it is not clear when the change, subtle though it was, was made. The only clue is in comments in Hansard and elsewhere that the architects had long discussions with members of Parliament and the Presiding Officers and Officials, about the layout. This could have been when the changes were made.94 The earliest plan of the new Parliament (1923) shows the U-shape pattern in the Representatives chamber but a blank on the Senate Chamber. Later plans from 1924 all show the U-shape in both chambers. As far as I am aware the archives do not contain any plan that shows anything other than a U-shaped chamber closely resembling the Mother parliament.95 The chamber, opened in 1927, following the traditional style of Australian Colonial Councils, is oblong: the presiding officer is seated at one end with members arranged in rows in an elongated U-shape. The seats to the left and right of the president face each other across the clerks’ table in a straight line and then curve to the central aisle at the back of the chamber. Following the Westminster tradition Government members are seated to the right of the presiding officer and opposition members to the left, while independents and smaller parties take the cross-benches on either side of a central aisle at the apex of the U. In the centre is (Historic Plans for Australia’s Senate are at Appendix 3.) 92 Parliamentary Standing Committee on Public Works, Report Together with Minutes of Evidence, Appendices and Plans Relating to the Proposed Erection of Provisional Parliament House, Canberra', pp. xvi, xviii, 24. 93 Cabinet Minutes, Monday 23 July, 1923, NAA: A2718, VOLUME I PART I. (This exact format is necessary to access the document via the NAA website.) 94 See Senator Grant, CPD, 8 August 1923, p.2263; Federal Capital Advisory Committee, 'Construction of Canberra: Final Report', (Melbourne: The Government of the Commonwealth of Australia, 1926), ‘Building Works’, p.13. 95 A comment from the Federal Parliamentary Education Office argues that the U-shape is characteristic of Australian chambers and suggests that this is because it encourages debate and participation, but it does not say where or when it originated. Parliamentary Education Office, Parliament of Australia, ‘Senate Now’, 11 September 2007. http://www.peo.gov.au/students/now_senate. Accessed 11 September 2007. http://www.peo.gov.au/students/now_senate� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 226 the Clerk’s Table, from which Government and Opposition Party front-bench spokesmen addressed the Chamber. The six Legislative Councils of the Australian States generally exhibit their inheritance in rich decoration, though in varying degrees of grandeur. Though all have their particular characteristics, each 19th century Council Chamber reveals a general adherence to the basic layout and décor. In addition to the use of deep red leather for the seats and carpets, there are panelled walls, carved dark timber ornamentation and, in some, columns, paintings and sculptures. Even in the New South Wales building, the sumptuous decorations have successfully disguised the basic structure, originally a prefabricated shell of corrugated iron, with grandeur and dignity. (For illustrations of the Upper Chambers discussed see Appendix 4.) The Chamber of the Victorian Council is particularly grand and as a rich example of the several aspects of Australia’s debt to British traditions it deserves some extra consideration. It is the only Australian colonial parliament building which was embarked upon in an atmosphere of prosperity and confidence, though completed in changed economic circumstances which modified the original design but did not compromise the initial confident and optimistic tone. Easily the most ornate interior of any Parliament in Australia it loyally echoes the tradition of Westminster in exuberant style and the impact on anyone entering the chamber from any direction is tremendous.96 96 Robb, 'The Role of Sculptural and Architectural Decoration in Parliament House, Victoria', p.7. Plus fieldwork observations, 22-29 November, 2005. The Chamber again follows the basic pattern of an oblong shape furnished in red and with galleries to accommodate the public and the press. Seating is arranged in the elongated U-shaped pattern and obeys the tradition of Government members seated to the right of the President and the Opposition to the left. Public galleries are at ground level opposite the President’s Chair and also upstairs around the sides of the Chamber, and the Press Gallery is at the Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 227 Chamber’s west end at ground level.97 The initial powerful impact on the observer viewing the chamber is created by the spectacle of the huge Corinthian monolithic columns of Tasmanian freestone which rise from the crimson floor. The woodwork is dark, polished Australian cedar, ornately carved, and the deep crimson upholstery is in keeping with the Westminster tradition. A table down the centre holds reference books and lecterns from where the leaders of the parties make their speeches. More than any other Council chamber in Australia, Victoria’s echoes all the grandeur of the House of Lords, lacking only the ancient connections and the hereditary and monarchical presence. 98 Modelled by sculptor J.S. Mackennal, each is a single piece of Tasmanian freestone, fluted, cream coloured and rising to gold-leaf tipped acanthus capitals.99 The columns support a vaulted, coffered and enriched ceiling which for beauty of design and elaborate ornamentation stands unrivalled in Australia. The church-like ambience created by the columns is enhanced by two more columns placed at the eastern and western ends of the Chamber. Those on the eastern end stand on either side of the President’s canopy in the place where an altar would stand if this was a religious temple, and enhance the reverent atmosphere. 100 Adorned at the sides by more sculptures and bas-reliefs, the richly detailed ceiling includes a myriad minor details and numerous references to assorted symbols of Government from Westminster and antiquity.101 97 K.J. Turnbull and Michael Cheshire, photographer, Parliament House, Victoria, (Melbourne: J.A. Fraser, c1976). 98 Souter, Acts 0f Parliament, p.37. 99 David Saunders, Historic Buildings of Victoria, (Brisbane: The Jacaranda Press, 1966), p.156. 100 Jenkins, A Short History and Description of the Parliament House, Melbourne, p.31. 101 Souter, Acts 0f Parliament, p.37. Robb, 'The Role of Sculptural and Architectural Decoration in Parliament House, Victoria', p.27; Saunders, Historic Buildings of Victoria, p.152. Fitted into the roof spandrels are symbolic and allegorical figures, imperial Hanoverian eagles are perched on the arches at the west and east ends, and Tudor roses fill the panels of the vaulted roof. Running along the ceiling’s north and south sides are sculptures of female figures each symbolising concepts that the young Colony valued such as ‘Justice’, ‘Mercy’, Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 228 ‘Wisdom’, ‘Victory’, ‘Statecraft’, ‘Architecture’, ‘Liberty’, ‘Fame’ and the ‘Horn of Plenty’ or ‘Prosperity’.102 The whole spectacle is crowned by the ornate, scalloped, pillared and carved President’s canopy at the eastern end of the Chamber facing the councillors. The canopy is a tribute to the Westminster cloth of estate and throne canopy. 103 Three- dimensional figures of the Royal Coat of Arms, the gilt Lion with the Royal Arms, and the silver Unicorn supporting a shield bearing the Arms of Melbourne, surmount the canopy, and a representation of the Imperial State Crown rests on top of the pediment. Behind the President’s Chair is the Vice-Regal Chair used by the Governor of Victoria for the formal opening of each new Session of Parliament.104 In New South Wales, as in other Council Chambers, the dominant colour is red. There are red carpets, red upholstery, red curtains and red wall-paper. The panelling and furniture of Australian red cedar complements the red of the furnishings and gold glistens in the fabrics and from the brass fittings and fixtures to add splendor to the scene. The whole spectacle is a powerful statement of the pride and devotion of the Colony to its British heritage and firm adhesion to the traditions of the Monarchy. 105 The chamber is the traditional oblong with a Presidential dais in a carved recess at the head of the chamber and the Imperial Coat of Arms above. They remained in position until replaced in 2006 by the New South Wales Arms: the present ousting the past. The seating was arranged in the confrontational pattern with a table down the centre aisle and followed the rule of Government members seated to the right of the President and Opposition members to the left. Cross-benches at the West end of the chamber facing the President’s dais were installed to accommodate 102 Parliament of Victoria, 'Parliament House Victoria: Birth of a Building', p.18. 103 Robb, 'The Role of Sculptural and Architectural Decoration in Parliament House, Victoria'. p.27. 104 Ibid. pp.28, 36. 105 Personal fieldwork observations on visits May 2004, November 2007 and discussions with parliamentary officials; Legislative Council, ‘The Chamber’, p.1, http://www.parliament.nsw.gov.au/prod/web/common.nsf/key/LCAboutChamber. Accessed 11 October 2007. http://www.parliament.nsw.gov.au/prod/web/common.nsf/key/LCAboutChamber.� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 229 independents or non-affiliated Councillors. In the centre of the President’s dais is an elaborate Vice-Regal chair. Four windows line the long north wall and there are galleries for the public and press on the ground floor and at the first floor level. Another gallery above the President’s dais is reserved for the press on one side and Hansard reporters on the other.106 The Chamber has, through its long life been bandaged, propped up, eaten by white ants, painted, and finally restored to its 1890s glory, and remains the meeting place of New South Wales Legislative Council after 150 years. 107 The Tasmanian Legislative Council Chamber, which the Council moved into in 1856, is also magnificent, if smaller. Dominated by a high ceiling and clerestory windows, it is highly ornate and loyal to the Westminster tradition in all its grandeur. Following the standard pattern it is oblong and has red upholstery and carpets, its walls are panelled with highly polished New South Wales cedar and above the panelling the wall and the ceiling are hand stencilled in a classical design. The President sits on a dais under a cedar canopy facing the Members, who are seated on two rows of benches that face each other across the Chamber and with a centre table for the clerks. The Westminster tradition of Government Councillors sitting to the right of the president and Opposition Councillors to the left, is officially adhered to but, as a small Council with only 15 members (2008), members can choose their own seats, though generally the Leader and Deputy Leader of the Government sit to the right of the president and the longest serving members sit closer to the President. Designed in the 19th century the ‘iron’ chamber clearly demonstrates adherence to the Westminster example and loyalty to Britain in its presentation. The removal of the imperial coat of arms in 2006 suggests that it has taken a long time for this attachment to weaken. 108 106 John D. Evans and Russell D. Grove, in Maisy Stapleton, ed., Australia's First Parliament. p.142. There are no cross benches. A large portrait of Queen Victoria hangs on the southern wall opposite one entrance to the Chamber measuring 15 feet 107 C.Brady, ‘Celebrating 150 Years of Democracy in a Big Tin Shed’, NSW Parliament, www.parliament.nsw.gov.au. Accessed 10 July 2008. 108 Chilcott, 'History of Government in Tasmania', p.25. http://www.parliament.nsw.gov.au/� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 230 (457.2cm) by 8 feet (1450cm) and with a handsomely carved and gilded frame it is a striking statement of loyalty to the British crown.109 Adelaide’s Council Chamber is more modern being completed in 1939. Before that the Council continued to sit in the original Parliament built for the unicameral Legislative Council opened in 1843. When the new bicameral Parliament building was opened in 1889 only the Assembly chamber was completed and the Council had to wait until 1939 to occupy its new building. After the Assembly moved to the new building the seating in the old chamber, now the Council chamber, was rearranged in the confrontational pattern along each side of the long wall with the President at the head of the chamber. There are individual seats on either side of the President’s dais known as the President’s Reserve. Behind them and to the President’s right is the area reserved for the Hansard staff who record the debates. The corresponding area to the President’s left is reserved for members of the press. The public gallery is at the other end of the Chamber from the President’s dais and can be accessed by the public via doors to the left of the Chamber. The Tasmanian Council Chamber is small but splendid and has remained almost entirely in its original condition except for necessary maintenance. 110 The new Council Chamber, opened in 1939, was arranged in the traditional Australian U-shape. Again there is the oblong shaped space with red furnishings and carpet. Corinthian columns, fluted and cream coloured, support the ceiling, and galleries surround the Chamber on three sides on the ground floor and on four sides on the first floor, to accommodate the public, the press and Hansard reporters.111 A carving of the Royal Arms is carved into the door of the Chamber.112 The furniture, other than the President’s chair, is of Queensland maple, and was initially upholstered in brown morocco which has a red appearance, though now it 109 Fieldwork observations and discussions with parliamentary officials, 15-19 January 2008. 110 Stretton, The Life and Times of Old Parliament House, p.45. 111 Fieldwork observations and discussions with parliamentary officials, November 2006, August 2007; G.D. Combe, The Parliament of South Australia: An outline of its history, its proceedings and its buildings, (Adelaide: The Parliament of South Australia 1982), p.34. 112 Ibid., p.35. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 231 is of red leather to match the red carpet. The Presidential dais is at the northern end of the chamber between two columns and accommodates the Vice-Regal chair which is also the President’s chair. The absence of extravagant ornamentation conveys an atmosphere of calm and dignity and reflects the more recent date of the completion of the chamber in 1939, and the change in tastes away from elaborate ornamentation in the 20th century. Nevertheless the Chamber exhibits strong evidence of the influence of Westminster and plainly demonstrates its loyalty to the British tradition. Queensland’s Legislative Council no longer exists having been abolished in 1922. The Council chamber however remains and its Westminster heritage is evident in the original architectural features dating from 1868. It is more restrained than the Victorian chamber but an appropriately stately appearance is conveyed by its space and height and the four large windows on each side, which reach from the floor to the galleries above. The galleries extend around the room and have an equal number of windows on each side. They are particularly handsome with Colebrookdale railings. Coloured glass, imported from England, embellishes the doors leading into the Chamber, while the desk and chair of the President add gravitas to the scene from their raised dais under a separate canopy supported by four Corinthian columns. The Vice-Regal Chair was presented to the Parliament by Queen Victoria. Upholstered in red velvet it has the traditional carving of the imperial crown on the back panel. Over the chair and under the canopy, is a carved representation of the royal arms.113 The leather-seated benches for members, originally red, and the red carpet, followed the traditional colour of upper houses and the seating was arranged in the elongated U-shape with a central aisle from the entrance. 114 113 Fieldwork observations and discussions with parliamentary officials, 18-21 April, 2006. Parliament of Queensland, 'Parliament House, Queensland', (Brisbane: Parliament of Queensland, nd.) 114 Ibid. The walls were originally creams, stone colours and pale green and the original furniture, including the President’s desk and chair and the leather-seated benches, was made from Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 232 Queensland yellow wood and built by John Petrie’s firm in 1870.115 Western Australia’s upper house, dating from 1904, was a more recent construction than other Australian Council chambers but still closely followed the ancient traditions of Westminster: an oblong chamber with the seats arranged in the U-shape. An elaborate President’s canopy or recess, flaunts the Imperial Coat of Arms above, and a President’s chair with a carved crown, which also serves as the Vice-Regal Chair, within. In its place in front of the President’s desk is the time- honored Clerk’s Table. The benches and carpets are red, although the carpet is more flamboyant than usual, with the red background chequered with Western Australia’s emblematic swans in black and white and Royal Crowns ‘giving a most elaborate effect’. A report on the opening of the chamber in 1904 comments: ‘Above the galleries the walls and ceiling are pure white and the plaster ceilings have an embossed pattern’. The galleries are of jarrah dark-stained and varnished and extend around the room. The Queensland Legislative Council Chamber was a true descendant of the British tradition and would have been familiar to the Queensland delegates to the first Constitutional Convention in 1891. 116 Across the Pacific things also genuflect to the Westminster heritage, in particular the Canadian Senate Chamber, which is known as the Red Chamber because of its traditional colouring. Opened in 1867 the chamber follows tradition, being oblong and with the seating arranged in parallel lines facing across the central aisle. Following the Westminster tradition, Government Senators sit to the right of the throne and other Senators to the left. There are no cross benches. They are open to the public, except for the gallery section behind the President’s chair, which is reserved for the press. 117 115 Bruce Buchanan and Associates, 'The History of Parliament House, Queensland', Section.5.3. 116 Brian de Garis, 'Constitutional and Political Development', in The House on the Hill, ed. David Black, (Perth: Parliament of Western Australian, 1991), p.87. Second floor galleries extend around the chamber. Tall, ceiling height arches at the north end, frame the Speaker’s canopy, presenting a magnificent spectacle of crimson 117 Senate of Canada Fact Sheet, ‘The Red Chamber’, http://www.parl.gc.ca/information/about/process/senate/factsheet/redchamber-ehtm. Accessed 10 July 2008. http://www.parl.gc.ca/information/about/process/senate/factsheet/redchamber-ehtm� Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 233 and gold and conveying the reverential atmosphere of a church. Within the canopy an oak throne or vice-regal chair, upholstered in red velvet, displays a carved Royal Coat of Arms. A consort’s chair and the Speaker’s chair, upholstered and elaborately carved, complete the picture.118 A marble bust of Queen Victoria surveys the spectacle from a perch above the Thrones and below the gallery, and a mace lies on the clerk’s table with its crown placed in the direction of the throne when the Chamber is in session.119 Though not so obvious as in the Canadian Senate, traces of the traditional Westminster symbols are even present in the United States Senate chamber, mainly the red of the seating, though the configuration deviates from the standard pattern. The seats are arranged in a semi-circle facing the presiding officer at the centre. 120 His chair is set upon a two-tiered platform dais, and around him are various officers and employees of the Senate, who have defined roles.121 Great galleries on all four sides run back over the lobbies. One is for the President of the United States, others are for the ladies, the press and the public. There is an open space behind the senators for their visitors and members of foreign legislatures. There are no windows but light enters through sky lights in the ceiling.122 The buildings and Chambers in this analysis present a consistent concept of what a Parliament building and an upper chamber should convey to observers: clear statements of authority, power and awe. The influence of Westminster is clearly discernible in all of them and the influence of ancient Greece and Rome, though less apparent, are subtle reminders of the heritage of antiquity. All impart a sense of the inherent sacredness of sovereign power. The chamber of the 1927 Australian Senate is a true inheritor of the Westminster tradition filtered through the colonial Houses, even though restrained by economic stringency and the ideas of its architect. From the influences of Westminster on the internal presentation of the 118 The Canadian Houses of Parliament, ‘The Senate’, (Ottawa, Queens Printer 1953). 119 Senate of Canada Fact Sheet, ‘The Red Chamber’. 120 Bryce, The American Commonwealth, p.153. 121 Mildred Amer, ‘Guide to Individuals Seated on the Senate Dais’, Congressional Research Service, Report to Congress, 6 December 2006, pp. 98-397. 122 Bryce, The American Commonwealth, p.153. Chapter 7: The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign Power 234 chambers, the next chapter will survey the symbols and procedures, also derived from Westminster and which enhance the reverent atmosphere of the Chambers, to determine how they have been adopted for use in traditional procedures and ceremonies in Australia. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 235 Chapter 8 The Ritual is Real in Politics: Tradition, Ritual, Symbolism and Ceremony in the Australian Senate Politics is expressed through symbolism.1 In April 1901, Joseph Chamberlain, then British Colonial Secretary, wrote to the first Governor-General of Australia, Lord Hopetoun, to offer advice on the ‘procedure to be followed in connexion with the opening of the first Parliament of the Commonwealth’ which was to take place on 9 May 1901. In great detail Chamberlain directed that the Governor-General, on the advice of his ministers, should appoint the necessary officers of the Senate and House of Representatives, as well as Commissioners who would administer the Oath to the members of both Houses. This would ensure that when each House met for the first time there would be the means of administering the Oath and a Clerk to call someone to move the election of the President of the Senate and the Speaker of the House of Representatives. The more formal ceremony of the opening of Parliament by the Governor-General could then proceed in the traditional manner. The letter was copied to the Prime Minister of Australia, Edmund Barton. In this way the Westminster tradition was set as a precedent in the new federal Parliament. David Kertzer. 2 The correspondence indicates that it was not only buildings and interior decorations, as discussed in the previous chapter, that were adopted by Westminster-derived Parliaments, but also colourful traditions, powerful symbols, elaborate rituals and impressive ceremonies from the House of Lords, even some dating from ancient times. These adaptations further emphasise the links and 1 David I. Kertzer, Ritual, Politics, and Power, (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1988), p.2. 2 Joseph Chamberlain to Lord Hopetoun, 14 March 1901, copied to Edmund Barton, 17 April 1901, NAA: A6, 1901/999. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 236 continuity of patterns of ruling and government through the centuries. This chapter will examine the traditions, symbols and rituals of the Australian Senate to define their historical origins. It will argue that the most dominant traditions and symbols are derived directly from the British Monarchy via the House of Lords and some can be traced back to early Britain and antiquity. Tradition is a many layered word, generally interpreted as a set of inherited customs or practices carried out in certain circumstances, simple ones such as birthday celebrations or funeral practices, or more elaborate and public events such as the opening of Parliament. On a theoretical level Michael Polanyi has argued that traditions can be seen as being ‘transmitted to us from the past but … are our own interpretations of the past’ validating the significance of particular social situations.3 Raymond Williams defines the word in several ways including that of a general process of ‘handing down’ while entailing a ‘strong sense of respect and duty’ and that the word moves towards ‘age-old’ and ‘ceremony, duty and respect’.4 These definitions can be related to the actions of Australian Parliaments in uncritically adopting many of the symbols, practices and procedures of the British system, out of a sense of respect and duty, when they do not always make sense. The British legacy can be seen most clearly in the appointment, without question, of an Usher of the Black Rod in all Australian upper houses, an office which assumed the titles and dress of its English counterpart, even though its ceremonial relevance to the Australian legislatures was minimal. The theory of path dependence is again useful here to explain the practice. As Collier and Collier have put it: ‘sometimes what is presumed to have been a choice is in fact deeply embedded in antecedent conditions’.5 New South Wales set the pace in Australia in 1843 by consciously modelling parliamentary procedures on those of the British Parliament, relying on the 3 Michael Polanyi, Personal Knowledge: Towards a Critical Philosophy, (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1958), p.160. 4 Raymond Williams, Key Words: A Vocabulary of Culture and Society, (London: Fontana/Croom Helm, 1976), pp.268-9. 5 Ruth Berins Collier and David Collier, Shaping the Political Arena, (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1991), p.27. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 237 ‘encyclopaedic advice of May’s Parliamentary Practice’.6 This work was first published in 1841 and, constantly updated, remains the bible of Parliamentary procedure throughout Australia.7 In addition to May’s advice, and though each State and the Commonwealth adopted slightly different rules, Colonial Parliaments provided from the beginning that their procedures would be based on British practice. In fact it was usual to adopt outright ‘the Rules, Forms, and Usages of the Imperial Parliament of Great Britain and Ireland’ with the proviso that they could be changed, added to or otherwise altered in the course of business.8 In all cases not hereinafter provided for, resort shall be had to the Rules, Forms and Practice, of the Upper House of the Imperial Parliament; which shall be followed so far as they can be applied. The Standing Orders, which laid down the rules for procedures and practices for the Legislative Council of New South Wales for 1856, provided that: 9 The reliance on British parliamentary practice was continued in 1901 when the first Clerk of the Australian Parliaments, Edwin Gordon Blackmore, who drafted the Standing Orders for both Houses, suggested to Alfred Deakin, then Attorney- General, that the Standing Orders for the new Parliament should be drafted by the two Chief Clerks. 10 The first standing order of the resulting draft for both Houses read ‘In all cases not provided for hereinafter, or by Sessional or other Orders, resort shall be had to the rules, forms and practice, of the Commons House of the Imperial Parliament of Great Britain and Ireland in force at the time of the adoption of these Orders, which shall be followed as far as they can be applied to the proceedings of the Senate (or House)’.11 The force of the past is also evident in the United States legislature in the way traditions, procedures and nomenclature, were adapted from various sources and 6 Carol Liston, ‘The Legislature of New South Wales’ in Maisy Stapleton, ed., Australia's First Parliament (Sydney: Parliament of New South Wales, 2002), p.62. 7 Erskine May, Erskine May's Treatise on the Law, Privileges, Proceedings and Usage of Parliament, ed. C. J. Boulton. Twenty-first edition, (London: Butterworths, 1989). 8 See the Victorian Constitution 1855, Section 34. 9 Standing Rules and Orders of the Legislative Council of New South Wales, 1856, Paragraph 1. 10 E.G. Blackmore to Alfred Deakin, 14 January 1901; Deakin Papers. NLA MS 1540 14/559-60. 11 Blackmore to Prime Minister, Edmund Barton, 22 April 1901. NAA: A6, 1901/1090. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 238 blended to structure their Congress. Many paradigms were drawn from antiquity, even the word ‘Congress’ comes from Latin and the related words ‘congregate’ and ‘gregarious’. J. McIver Weatherford, an American historian, argues that the continuity between modern Congress and earlier political forms is more than etymological trivia because, just as words preserve forgotten and obsolete meanings, so our political institutions preserve within themselves long-forgotten residues from our common tribal ancestry.12 As noted in Chapter 6, as well as the examples from antiquity the Americans also adopted ideas from Montesquieu’s De l’esprit des lois (Spirit of the Laws) and Aristotle’s Politics. They derived their Constitution from several sources: ‘the Magna Carta, the common law traditions of Germanic tribes and Roman legal theory’. 13 In addition, the United States’ House of Representatives was based closely on traditions from the British House of Commons and the ancient Athenian Assembly, and in choosing a title for the upper house of Congress they borrowed the name of the Senate of Republican Rome.14 The dependence on the past is also clearly evident in the complicated rituals of legislative practices, which are often supported by symbols and based on tradition. In the Australian Senate, tradition, rituals and symbols pervade many of the procedures and ceremonies which take place in the course of business and with which they enjoy a symbiotic relationship. In most cases they can be traced back directly to the practice in the House of Lords. In that splendid, gilded Chamber and cradle of much parliamentary procedure, many elaborate ceremonies evolved, together with ritualised behaviour and rules incomprehensible to the uninitiated. In the United States these examples make clear the powerful influence of the past and the seductive power of familiar forms and practices when structuring Governments, even when a rejection of much of the past is a theme in the process. 15 12 J. McIver Weatherford, Tribes on the Hill, (New York: Rawson, Wade Publishers, Inc., 1981), p.21. 13 Ibid., p.6. 14 Ibid. 15 Emma Crewe, Lords of Parliament, (Manchester and New York: Manchester University Press, 2005), p.21. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 239 The strictures governing who may or may not enter the Chamber and when, are almost inviolable and are articulated in its Standing Orders, which is almost a sacred text to peers, and provided the basic model for the standing orders of Australia’s parliaments. This irrefutable text is interpreted and administered by priestly clerks in wigs and gowns, who ensure compliance with the various traditions, such as bowing at certain times to those almost holy objects: the Cloth of Estate and the Mace, powerful symbols of monarchy.16 It is clear to any observer that, in the words of the parliamentary paper Balancing Tradition and Progress, ‘Ritual pervades parliamentary practice’. Not all of the traditions and ceremonies carried on in the Lords were adopted by Australian Parliaments but enough of them were to demonstrate a strong allegiance to the example of the Mother of Parliaments. 17 American academic David Kertzer, in his work Ritual, Politics and Power, asked ‘What is it about ritual that is so compelling?’ Answering his own question he argued that it ‘helps societies deal with many kinds of interpersonal conflicts that threaten to poison social life and tear the community apart’. Judicial procedures especially he found, from the simplest societies to modern nation states, are highly ritualised and the rites of the law court are not so very different from rites of the royal court. In both cases ritual works to ensure that the image of sacredness and of legitimacy is fostered, aggressive behaviour sharply contained, and lines of authority bolstered.18 Kerster argued that ritual helps us deal with the chaos of human experience and put it into a coherent framework. In the case of politics he was surprised ‘by the ubiquity of political rites and perplexed that scholars had attributed so little significance to them’.19 16 Ibid. 17 Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, 'Balancing Tradition and Progress: Procedures for the Opening of Parliament', (Canberra: The Parliament of Australia, 2001), Section 3.17, p.26. 18 Kertzer, Ritual, Politics, and Power, p.132 19 Ibid., p.x. He further argued that studies of political rites remain underdeveloped and largely ignored by the mainstream of the discipline. Yet it is clear that politics are expressed through ritual and symbolism even if few political observers have ever taken it seriously, viewing ritual as mere Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 240 embellishment for more important or ‘real’ political activities. Little has been published on parliamentary ritual and that which has is mostly by the Parliaments themselves for educational purposes. Even the participants do not always find them a subject for serious discussion. That ritual is an integral part of politics, in modern societies as well as ancient, cannot be denied, and without it any political system would find it difficult to function.20 Though apparently meaningless in some situations, ritual is in fact an important instrument of society, but few people are aware of its subtle yet potent effects on participants and observers. One of its most common uses, especially within an organisation, is to socialise new members to the values and expectations that make up its culture and to instill inspiration and a sense of awe. In this way ritual is a significant part of Parliamentary procedure and is also found in many establishments from schools to social clubs. In modern western societies, and more so in non-Western societies, people associate ritual with religion or the law. This becomes clear when researching the word ‘ritual’ in library or search catalogues where the references are dominated by the anthropological aspect. Yet in modern society the processes of politics are encompassed by elaborate rites interacting with one another and with the public. 21 Major and minor rituals frequently interrupt parliamentary proceedings in the House of Lords. The most flamboyant and regular are the ‘Introduction Ceremony’ where a new peer is introduced to the Chamber and which can occur at any time, and the State opening of Parliament, which in Westminster occurs after a general election or every November when Parliament reassembles after the summer break. The ‘Introduction Ceremony’ is for newly created peers who must be ceremonially introduced before they take their seat. 22 They are escorted into the chamber by the Garter King of Arms, Black Rod and two enrobed 'sponsors' chosen from the same rank of peers.23 20 Ibid. 21 Ibid., p.29. 22 Donald Shell, The House of Lords, (London: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1992), p.87. 23 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.12. Many other rituals take place in the Lords at different times, some Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 241 even daily. For example every sitting day begins with the Lord Chancellor’s procession into the Chamber and every year the Royal Assent ceremony, transforming Bills into Acts, takes place, as well as Prorogation, which brings the parliamentary session to an end. There are others less well known, such as the Lord Chancellor’s breakfast reception for the judges, which are not followed by Australian Parliaments simply because they are not relevant.24 The argument in favour of these time-honoured rituals is that they are important tools for ensuring the orderly conduct of business and transcend the perception of peculiar and repetitive actions. This applies especially to the ritualisation of debate—the key component of the business of the legislatures. The rituals of debate in most upper houses have a close similarity and are basically precautionary, to prevent unseemly behaviour, manage conflict and define the relationship of members to one another. They convey a principle of equality between the members, and are enshrined in the Standing Orders of each legislature following the practice in the Lords. Kertzer sees such rituals as ‘a form of rhetoric’ or ‘the propagation of a message through a complex symbolic performance’. Ceremonies, symbols and rituals are not so frequent or so elaborate in Australia, Canada or the United States, nevertheless they do exist and are regarded as important in bringing dignity, authority and a sense of community and consequence to the proceedings. 25 They are emulated not only in parliaments throughout the British world but also in institutions from local councils to corporate Board rooms. E.P. Thompson called it ‘the clubbability’ of the English.26 In most upper houses debates were conducted by a Presiding Officer or a deputy and they too must abide by set procedures or rituals in the process. The office in the Lords was occupied by the Lord Chancellor, an ex officio appointment, or, in It goes without saying that the Conventions themselves were conducted according to these rules. 24 Ibid., pp.204-5. 25 Kertzer, Ritual, Politics, and Power, p.101. 26 E.P Thompson, The Making of the English Working Class, (Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1980), p.738. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 242 his absence, by a Lord Speaker or Deputy Speaker. 27 The Speaker in the Lords did not intervene in debate or have the controlling power to maintain order as in Australian upper houses, but only announced the next amendment or called the divisions and put questions on motions submitted. Order was maintained by the members themselves obeying the Standing Orders and dealing as a body with unacceptable conduct.28 Bills were debated by the whole House ‘in committee’ in the chamber and this required the Lord Speaker or deputy speaker to hand over to the Chairman of Committees (or his deputy) who sat at the Table. The Chairman of Committees was a salaried appointment made by the House itself and the holder withdrew entirely from party politics. The formality of dissolving into the Committee of the Whole mostly signified that the rules of debate were less restrictive. The Lord Chairman was Chairman of all committees of the House of Lords, unless the House directed otherwise.29 There was no requirement for political impartiality on the part of the Lord Chancellor who, as a senior member of the Government, spoke and voted in the House and when the House went into Committee he moved to sit on the government front bench.30 Most Australian and Canadian Parliaments and the United States Congress have similar rules and procedures though the Senators address not the whole house but the President, who also has the duty of ensuring an orderly conduct of business. In Australia this is laid down in the Standing Orders drawn up in 1901 and this rule was introduced in 1925.31 In the Lords the Lord Chancellor had the added responsibility of sitting judicially in the Law Courts as well as other important duties in relation to the administration of the judicial system, but this was only the case in the House of Lords.32 27 There have been recent changes to procedures in the House of Lords but this discussion will focus on the situation at the time of the establishment of the Australian Federal Parliament as that would have been the model for the decisions of the delegates and officials. For a discussion on the recent changes see Meg Russell, Reforming the House of Lords, Lessons from Overseas, (Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2000). 28 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.188. 29 Shell, The House of Lords, p.95. 30 Ibid., p.94. 31 Standing orders and other orders of the Senate, Standing Order 186(1). ‘In speaking in debate a senator addresses the President, or the Chair of Committees in committee of the whole.’ http://www.aph.gov.au/Senate/pubs/standing_orders/index.htm. Accessed 4 September 2008. 32 Shell, The House of Lords, p.94. http://www.aph.gov.au/Senate/pubs/standing_orders/index.htm� Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 243 Presiding officers are managed in a different way in Australia and Canada because of the different structure of the membership of their Houses: members are either nominated or elected, but have not inherited their seats as have the peers in the Lords. Nor is the Presidency an ex officio appointment; the holder is a senator and in Australia is elected to the office by the other senators. The role of Chairman of Committees is filled by an elected deputy President.33 Following the example of the Lords each upper house conducts debates in accordance with their individual Standing Orders. In the United States Senate these are known as the Standing Rules and they evolved slowly from the early days of proceedings and are not so obscure in their origins or rationale. For the Australian Senate E.G. Blackmore, (Clerk of the House of Representatives in 1901, and Clerk of the 1897 Federal Convention and the South Australian Legislative Council) drafted the standing orders for both Houses. In the Canadian Senate, an unelected house, the Presiding Officer, known as the Speaker, is appointed by the Governor-General on the advice of the Prime Minister. In all Australian jurisdictions the presiding officer controls the debate and also votes in divisions as an elected State representative. 34 In 1885 he had produced the Manual of Practice, Procedure, and Usage for the South Australian House of Assembly, which was based upon ‘the Rules, Forms, and Practice of the House of Commons’.35 The Senate Journal 1901-2 records that Blackmore’s draft orders should be temporarily adopted until the Senate adopted those recommended by a committee to be appointed to prepare them. Senator Symon then suggested that those of either branch of any State Parliament should be considered by the committee for temporary adoption by the Senate. This was accepted and the Standing Orders of the South Australian Legislative Council were adopted temporarily.36 33 J.R. Odgers, Australian Senate Practice, Fifth ed. (Canberra: AGPS, 1976), Chapter 5. 34 Blackmore to Prime Minister, Edmund Barton, 22 April 1901, NAA, A6 1901/1090. 35 Edwin Gordon Blackmore, Manual of the Practice, Procedure, and Usage of the House of Assembly of the Province of South Australia, (Adelaide: E. Spiller, Government Printer, North Terrace, 1885), 36 The Senate Journal, No.9. 5, 6 June 1901. Motion 7. Section 50 of the Australian Constitution provides for the production Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 244 of ‘Rules and Orders’ for both chambers and all Australia’s Colonies had also provided for them in their first bicameral Constitutions.37 Some of the rules in the Lords have an obvious purpose, mostly to ensure that debate is orderly and courteous. These include forbidding peers to belittle or offend other peers: ‘All personal, sharp or taxing speeches are to be forborn’. 38 A Senator shall not use offensive words against either House of Parliament or of a House of a State or Territory parliament or any member of such House. This rule also applies in other jurisdictions though couched in different words. The Standing Orders in the Australian Senate state: 39 In the Lords tradition obliges members to address the whole House, never an individual, not even the presiding officer, as all peers are considered equals. 40 Other rules are more obscure and again are as much related to courtesy as to prohibition, such as the ban on walking between the Woolsack (Lord Chancellor) and the speaker, or rising when the Lord Chancellor or his deputy is on his feet. Nor may a peer speak more than once in the same debate, except the mover of a motion who has the right of reply. Other rules concern such things as always referring to other peers in the third person.41 37 NSW, 1855, Section 35; Victoria 1855, Section 34; Tasmania, 1854, Section 29; South Australia 1855-6, Section 27; Queensland 1867, Section 8; Western Australia 1890, Section 34. 38 Shell, The House of Lords, p.89. 39 Section 193 (3). 40 Shell, The House of Lords, pp.88-9. 41 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.8. A further refinement on this convention is that senior military members are always ‘gallant’, and senior legal peers always ‘learned’, members of the same party refer to one another as ‘my noble friend’ and relatives as ‘my noble kinsman’. Peers making maiden speeches are expected to avoid controversy to allow the next speaker always to congratulate them, and peers are not supposed to read their speeches, described in the Companion to the Standing Orders as ‘alien to the custom of the House and an obstacle to good debate’. However, this can be avoided by permitted use of Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 245 ‘extended notes’.42 Rules of debate like these are also in force in the Australian Senate though worded differently.43 As has been noted the Vice-President of the United States acts as presiding officer of the Senate, an ex officio appointment in the same way as the Lord Chancellor is ex officio Speaker of the House of Lords. Unlike the Lord Chancellor he has no vote except a casting vote, if numbers are equally divided. Though he is the presiding officer, he is not a member of the Government, as is the Lord Chancellor. If he is not available the Senate chooses one of its number to be president pro tem. Like the Lord Chancellor the Vice-President has no authority in matters of order as such questions are held to be a matter for the Senate itself, as in the House of Lords. This is a difference from the Australian and Canadian Parliaments where the Presiding Officer is elected by the other Senators to the Presidency and controls the debate and also votes in Divisions as an elected representative of his State. When votes are equal the question passes in the negative. 44 Similar but less elaborate rules on naming apply in the United States, where a senator always addresses the Chair as ‘Mr. President’ and refers to other senators by their States, ‘The senior senator from Ohio’, ‘The junior senator from Tennessee’ depending on how long they have served in the Senate. 45 In Australia members address each other by name as there are more than two Senators from each State, an example of tradition giving way to practicalities. The quaint tradition or taboo which is common among the legislatures under discussion is that the other chamber must not be mentioned by name except in such a phrase as ‘another body’ or ‘some other chamber’ in the United States or ‘another place’ in the House of Lords and Australian and Canadian Senates.46 42 Shell, The House of Lords, p.89. 43 Standing Orders of the Senate, Chapter 31—Conduct of Senators and rules of debate. 44 United States Constitution, Section 23. 45 James Bryce, The American Commonwealth, vol.1, (London: Macmillan, 1889), p.156. 46 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.89. This is an example of the way traditions, which do not always make a great deal of sense, are carried on from the basic model of the British parliament. The reason for the tradition is unclear, but various sources have suggested that it originated in the British Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 246 Parliament and arose from the ancient friction and hostility between the two Houses.47 This is a taboo that has the effect of distorting speech patterns when a speaker is endeavouring to make a point without mentioning the main subject and can make debates even more incomprehensible to the observer.48 The most important ritual and the most dramatic, in the Lords and all other jurisdictions, are the Votes or Divisions, when the House must vote upon a Bill or amendment. Many questions are decided upon voices but others require a formal count. The formal procedure in the Lords begins when the mover of a motion says he wants to test the opinion of the House. The Speaker puts the question to the House and collects the voices to find if the peers agree or disagree. If this does not bring a clear result the division bell is rung to summon the other peers and remove strangers from the lobbies. The question is then put and the peers vote as ‘content’ or ‘not content’, by moving to the appropriate lobby where they are counted. This procedure is the essential part of passing or rejecting legislation and the culmination of a Bill’s, or amendment’s, progress into legislation. 49 The procedure is copied closely in upper houses in Australia, Canada and the United States.50 In contrast, the influence of the past on the use of symbols in upper houses can be interpreted on a less practical and more intangible level. Symbols carry a history of cognitive and emotional associations which makes symbolism a very powerful tool used and recognised by many organisations to maintain their identity and Voting practices, the actual decision-making process in upper Chambers, are almost exclusively based on the Lords’ example and are a paradigm of path dependence working through time, countries and legislatures. This is also evidence that tradition can be a genuine guide to efficient practice. 47 Victorian Legislative Council, ‘A Sitting Day in the Legislative Council’, Information Sheet No. 14, Table Office, April 2005. p.4. Communication from the Assistant Clerk of the Parliamentary Archives in Westminster advised that its origin could not be established but the query would be referred to the Director of the History Trust. No further information has been forthcoming, 23 May 2008. 48 Weatherford, Tribes on the Hill, pp.193-4. 49 Shell, The House of Lords, p.91. 50 David R. Tarr and Ann O’Connor, eds., Congress A to Z, vol.3. (Washington: Congressional Quarterly Inc., 1999), pp.444.5. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 247 continuity.51 Symbolism can be seen quite clearly in the military, the religious, the legal and the political spheres, but, though not exclusive to Government, Government makes the most potent use of it in its routine activities. As Kertzer argues ‘The symbolic is real politics articulated in a special and often most powerful way’.52 Kertzer has forensically analysed the importance of symbolism in politics in his book Ritual, Politics, and Power and argued that it is ‘through symbolism we recognize who are the powerful and who are the weak’ and through the manipulation of symbols the powerful reinforce their authority. 53 This seems particularly pertinent to the use of symbols in Parliaments, where they are part of the ‘plethora of rituals and ceremonies, encrusted with symbols and decorated by splendid performances, that either constitute or punctuate business’ in the legislative chambers, and especially in the upper houses.54 Symbolism and ritual are natural partners and most of the symbols used in Parliaments are important components of recurring rituals. They provide the content of ritual which Kertzer has defined as ‘action wrapped in a web of symbolism’. It is the nature of these symbols and the ways they are used that tell us much about the nature and influence of ritual. The use of elaborate proceedings serves to intimidate, to overawe and also to exclude the observer by instilling a sense of deference and reverence. 55 51 Kertzer, Ritual, Politics, and Power, p.92. 52 Ibid., p.5. n.24. 53 Ibid., p.5. 54 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.184. 55 Kertzer, Ritual, Politics, and Power, p.11. The most prominent symbols to be found in Westminster Parliaments and which are discussed in this chapter are the Throne, the Mace and Black Rod, and the Bar of the House. There are many other minor examples but these will support my argument that the symbolism found in Westminster and echoed in other Westminster Parliaments can be traced to several motivations: history, path dependence, and an emotional attachment to the trappings of power. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 248 The major symbol and certainly the most spectacular in the House of Lords, is the throne. Designed by Augustus Pugin (1812-1852) for the new Palace of Westminster, opened in 1850 and for which he was one of the architects, it was based on the throne of Solomon as described in the Bible: Moreover the king made a great throne of ivory, and overlaid it with pure gold. And there were six steps to the throne with a footstool of gold, which were fastened to the throne, and stays on each side of the sitting place, and two lions standing by the stays: and twelve lions stood there on the one side and the other upon the six steps. There was not the like made in any kingdom. (2 Chronicles 9; 17-19, King James Version). As Riding explains, ‘the Old Testament description of King Solomon’s throne was of profound significance and demonstrated the biblical origins of kingship’. Solomon’s Throne was not faithfully reproduced in the new Westminster Parliament but this description provided a model for it and its setting as a symbol of ‘supreme authority’.56 Both the provision and design of the British throne demonstrate the power and influence of antiquity on modern political symbols, carried through from Westminster to the several other Westminster style legislatures. The tradition of the throne in England goes back to the earliest times when one was provided for the king in Parliament. The basic characteristics of a throne were that it physically elevated the sitter above everyone assembled and had a footstool, a cushioned seat, a carpeted step or steps leading up to the seat itself, a canopy or cloth of estate and, finally, a dais placed before and/or below the seat. This ensured that the throne became the focus for royal ceremonial and protocol in the Chamber.57 The throne in the House of Lords is a grandiose affair and, enclosed in its awesome gilded canopy, dominates the Chamber. Complete with the basic elements of a throne, as discussed above, the chair itself is closely based on the early 14th century Coronation Chair in Westminster Abbey, a sturdy, foursquare creation with a gable back surmounted by a crown. Known as St Edward’s Chair, 56 Christine Riding, ‘The aura of sacred mystery’, in Christine Riding and Jacqueline Riding, eds., The Houses of Parliament: History Art and Architecture, ed. Iain Ross (London: Merrell Publishers Limited, 2000), p.179. 57 Ibid. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 249 the Coronation Chair was first used by Edward II in 1308 and all subsequent Monarchs until Queen Victoria in 1838.58 The Pugin throne is made of gilded mahogany and embellished with glass, brass and embroidered textile and decorated with the richly embroidered Royal Arms and carved heraldic devices. A huge, glittering canopy, a solid structure of intricately carved and decorated wood, stands tall and dwarfs the throne and chairs below. Every portion of the throne, the chairs of state and the canopy are of the richest design, gilded and glowing with gold and colours. Riding describes the effect as ‘breathtaking’. Important components of the scene are the Chairs of State which are invested with decorations and motifs that declare their status; occasionally referred to as Consorts’ Chairs, they are for the use of Royal family members taking part in the ceremonies. The whole wondrous spectacle, visually amazing and spellbinding, also exudes a historical authenticity from its derivations from biblical legend and links with the past that transcend mere medievalism, and conveys an awesome sense of sovereign authority.59 The ancient tradition of a throne has been followed in Australian Parliaments and Canada in the more modest form of a Vice-Regal chair, to be used by the Governor or Governor-General when the monarch is not present. From this chair, in the various upper houses, the speech outlining the Government’s programme is delivered to the assembled Parliament at the Opening ceremony, a procedure which echoes the speech from the Throne in the House of Lords by the Monarch at the opening of the Westminster Parliament. Though vice-regal chairs represent the ornate throne in the House of Lords they can in no way compare with that magnificent gold, crimson and velvet creation—though the Canadian version comes close. Some chairs are more magnificent than others, but all are important symbols of British heritage and embody the main characteristics of the Westminster throne as ornate designs in fine wood with Gothic style carvings and 58 Ibid., pp.186-7. 59 Ibid., pp.179-187. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 250 red velvet upholstery.60 Some variations in design occur. For example South Australia’s Vice-Regal Chair, which has been in use in the Legislative Council since 1855, also serves as the President’s chair and is surmounted by a richly carved representation of the Imperial Coat of Arms. In Canada the chair is actually called the ‘throne’ and in South Australia it was known as the ‘vice regal throne’ before it was transferred from the old Legislative Council chamber to the new one in 1939. As well as the Vice-Regal Chair there is usually also an ornate chair for the Presiding Officer, as in the Lords, where the Presiding Officer, the Lord Chancellor, sits on the Woolsack. The Presiding Officer’s Chair is also upholstered in red and of varying degrees of grandeur though on a less elaborate scale. It occupies a space immediately in front of the Vice-Regal Chair and is moved away on ceremonial occasions. 61 60 Even the United States Senate at one time considered the installation of a (small) throne for use by the President. The idea was never implemented but the suggestion illustrates how strong were the influences of deeply held perceptions of a governing body. Weatherford, Tribes on the Hill, p.169. 61 Gordon D Combe, Responsible Government in South Australia, (Adelaide: Parliament of South Australia, nd.), p.33. Personal observation on field work, 7 November, 2005. This has been in use since 1855 and is of richly carved English oak upholstered in red velvet. It had originally been the Vice-Regal throne and was transferred to the new Chamber when responsible government was introduced. In a departure from the simplicity of the modern chamber, a Gothic carving of the Royal Coat of Arms, depicting the lion and the unicorn, adorns the back of the richly carved chair, plus a central crown. The evocative symbol of the Lion and the Unicorn is also incorporated in the richly ornamental Vice-Regal Chairs of New South Wales and the Canadian Senate, while other Vice-Regal Chairs (Victoria, Queensland, Western Australia and Canberra) are adorned with a crown to denote their royal links. The Canadian ‘Vice-Regal Throne’, as it is known, is an ornate affair with a massive, arched tall-back surmounted by a gable, as is the Westminster throne, and features carved gothic ornaments as well as the Imperial Coat of Arms. There is a consort’s chair similar to but smaller than the Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 251 Vice-Regal Throne and a heavily carved Speaker’s Chair with an upholstered buttoned tall-back and the Canadian coat of arms in a raised gold design.62 The most magnificent arrangement in Australia is in Victoria where the Vice-Regal Chair and the President’s chair are enclosed in an extravagant canopy which presents a microcosm of the decorative and ornamental scheme of the Council chamber as a whole, with Corinthian columns and decorative panels enriched with mouldings. 63 The symbols of the British Monarchy: the Royal Lion, the Crown and the Unicorn in separate sculptures surmount the canopy in splendid style. The Vice-Regal chair is of Australian cedar and its construction has been dated to ‘the last quarter of the 19th century’. It is identified by its carved and coloured crown and is ‘upholstered in maroon buttoned velvet’, while the President’s chair, also ornately carved, is upholstered in red buttoned velvet.64 Another magnificent chair is found in Tasmania’s Legislative Council and serves as both the President’s Chair and the Vice-Regal Chair. Dating from 1851 it was first used by the State Governor. Made of native blackwood the design is essentially of large cabriole pattern with the front legs terminating in lions’ paws and carved decorations of lions’ heads at the ends of the arms. A Royal Coat of Arms surmounts the buttoned, red velvet upholstered back.65 In New South Wales the Vice-Regal Chair, dating from 1856, was carved from red cedar. In the Louis Quatorze style it is upholstered in crimson velvet and has a crown carved into the upper back above the royal insignia to signify its royal status. Originally it was the President’s chair but is now only used by the Queen or her representative, the Governor of New South Wales. 66 62 Special Chair, Architect’s drawings, Chief Architect’s Office, DPW, ca.1878; Vice-Regal Chair, Consort Throne: 1.2:1; 1.2:2. Design for chair for Speaker of the Senate, T.D.Rankin, DPW, May 1922, 1.2:3. 63 Gwenda Robb, 'The Role of Sculptural and Architectural Decoration in Parliament House, Victoria' (Unpublished Masters Thesis, Monash, 1993), p.28. Also personal observations on field work, 7 November, 2005. 64 Parliament House Furniture Survey from June 1984, Parliament of Victoria. 65 Personal observations on field work January 2008. The Legislative Council of Tasmania, The Legislative Council of Tasmania; an Outline of Its History and Its Proceedings, (Hobart: Legislative Council of Tasmania, nd.), p.10. 66 Stapleton, ed., Australia's First Parliament, p.133. The President’s chair sits Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 252 directly in front of the Vice-Regal chair and in the centre of the chamber is the clerk’s table, described as ‘a very creditable piece of cabinet work’. All are made of red cedar and date from 1856.67 In 1927 the Australian Senate provided similar though plainer chairs for the Governor-General and Consort, of carved wood and upholstered in an ‘approved shade of red leather’ designed by the architect John Smith Murdoch. The Vice- Regal Chair is appropriately surmounted by a carved crown and the consort’s chair is matching but unadorned. The President’s chair was presented by the Canadian Government in 1927. It is a plain but sturdy chair upholstered in red leather. 68 Thus does the Australian Senate acknowledge its British heritage.69 After the throne the Black Rod is the most visible symbol derived from the House of Lords and adopted by Australian and Canadian upper houses. A long, slender black staff of about 1.45 metres with silver or gilt ornamentation at the head, the centre and the foot, it is used as a symbol of authority. Though there are slight variations, the Rods are all very similar, each being black and having a head ornamentation, the Cap, surmounted by a Royal symbol and Emblem and attached to the upper section of the Rod by a silver or gilded casing. As the official was originally an officer of the Order of the Garter, the oldest and highest British Order of Chivalry founded in 1348 by Edward III, a representation of the Garter and its accompanying motto ‘Honi soit quit mal y pense’ (Shame to him who thinks evil of it) is often incorporated in the cap symbols. The foot sometimes has a gold sovereign as in the Westminster Rod, or other ornamentation, and the central joint is decorated with oak leaves or other leaf motif, for example in Canada maple leaves have been used. 70 67 New South Wales Parliament, ‘The Architecture and Decorations of Parliament House’, History Bulletin 2, 2007. 68 Parliament House Senate Chamber, President of the Senate's chair, presented by the Canadian Government, NAA: A3560, 7644. 69 The President of the United States Senate sits at the head of a two-tiered platform or dais and other officials are seated below in accordance with rigid rules which are almost as arcane as those of the House of Lords. (CRS Report for Congress, 6 Dec 2006). 70 Jan Potter and Monique Grenon, 'The Usher of the Black Rod', (Senate of Canada, nd.), p.6. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 253 The Rod as a sign of authority and a staff of office dates back to antiquity. Among the early Greeks a long staff used by judges, priests and military leaders as a mark of their authority, was known as the sceptre. In another example a bundle of rods bound about the shaft of an axe and carried before the Consul or High Magistrate were the Roman fasces, probably Etruscan in origin, and were the insignia of official authority. The bound bundle of rods represent the strength of a united republic and the central axe symbolizes authority with might.71 In Westminster the rod symbol has been seen in various guises—black and white rods, silver sticks, maces, sceptres, or the Field Marshal’s baton.72 The Black Rod has the same authority as a mace and the Usher of the Black Rod carries his in the course of his ceremonial duties which include as: First Usher of the Court and Kingdom; Principal Usher of the Order of the Garter; and Official of the House of Lords. In the latter capacity he is to maintain order, including the power to arrest a peer for offences noted by the House, and to serve as messenger from the Lords to the Commons. In all these capacities the officer derives his authority from the rod or staff which symbolizes that authority.73 In the Lords, he is joined by the Yeoman Usher and the doorkeepers, who as well as ceremonial duties, are responsible for ensuring that respect is shown for the chamber, its peers and their symbols.74 The duties of the Black Rod in Australia have deviated from that of the official in the House of Lords and been adapted to Australian requirements, the holder becoming the administration officer or also holding the office of Clerk Assistant, one of the senior officials of the Chamber. In Canada there has been an Usher of These, without the additional officers, are also the duties of Black Rod in Australian Parliaments, often with the added responsibility of managing many administrative matters. 71 Office of the Clerk of the United States House of Representatives, Time traveler 2. A symbolic representation of the fasces was adopted by the United States and appeared on a coin from 1916 to 1945, a bronze model is featured on either side of the United States flag in the House of Representative, and representations appear on the Seal of the Senate, among other places. Office of the Clerk of the House of Representatives: The House Chamber, p.1. 72 Alan Mansfield, Ceremonial Costume: Court, Civil and Civic Costume from 1660 to the Present Day, (London: Adam & Charles Black, 1980), p.31. 73 Ibid., pp.31-2. 74 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.194. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 254 the Black Rod since 1791 and that office is usually held by a person of military background, as in Westminster. In the United States the remnants of the tradition are evident in the office of a Sergeant-at-Arms in both Houses.75 They serve as protocol and chief law enforcement officers and carry out administrative functions. The name of the officer is clearly derived from Westminster tradition, and carried further by the officer in the House of Representatives who even carries a mace.76 An Australian Black Rod was duly appointed to the Federal Parliament of Australia on Federation in 1901. A memo from E.G.Blackmore, Clerk of the Parliaments, to the Prime Minister dated 19 April 1901 advises that an officer, George Upward, had accepted the position and it was duly gazetted on 19 July 1901 along with other Parliamentary officials for the new parliament. Upward and other officials had transferred from the Victorian Parliament to the Federal Parliament.77 As well as the ceremonial aspect of the office, administrative duties form a major part of the duties of this officer in Federal Parliament.78 As an Officer of the House of Lords, Black Rod appears, from the 17th century at least, to have worn contemporary clothes embellished by the addition of the staff and badge and chain of office. From the end of the 18th century he wore official court dress in the House and at Court functions and in the 1908 edition of Dress Worn at Court he was ordered to wear in the House a black cloth court suit. The black rod and chain of office were added to the costume when on ceremonial duties. 79 75 The spelling used for this office is either ‘Sergeant’ or ‘Serjeant’ according to each parliament’s decision. 76 Tarr, Congress A to Z, pp.381-2. 77 E.G. Blackmore to the Prime Minister, Edmund Barton, 19 April 1901, NAA, A6, 1901/1000. 78 Odgers, Australian Senate Practice, p.139. 79 Mansfield, Ceremonial Costume: Court, Civil and Civic Costume from 1660 to the Present Day, pp.31-2. The holders of this office in Australia and Canada also originally wore court dress on ceremonial occasions, except the South Australian official who wore evening dress with wig and gown. Most have now dropped the traditional costume in favour of contemporary clothing and the office is now open to women. In Canada Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 255 however the officer still wears a court type frock-coat and also carries a ‘fore and aft’ bicorn Admiral’s hat.80 Australia’s Parliaments adopted the tradition of a Black Rod at different times, mostly at the advent of bicameralism in the 1850s. Before that, as there was only one chamber, no Black Rod was necessary for communication between the Houses and a Sergeant-at-Arms carried out the other duties until the new two- Chamber Parliaments were inaugurated. In New South Wales the Office of Black Rod was established in 1856 in accordance with the practice in Canada and Great Britain and it was adopted as the servant of the upper house as well as the President’s disciplinary officer. 81 A memo from the President of the Legislative Council in New South Wales in 1856 to Major Lockyer, the first Usher of the Black Rod, outlined some of the duties expected of him and made it clear that he, as Black Rod, was the senior officer in the Chamber in regard to keeping order.82 South Australia did not create this office on the advent of bicameralism and, from the inauguration of a bicameral Parliament in 1856, functions usually carried out by Black Rod were discharged by the Sergeant-at-Arms in the Council, an officer more usually attached to the Assembly. In 1953 Parliament was informed that the Sovereign would personally open a number of Parliaments in the course of the Royal visit to the Commonwealth in 1954. Buckingham Palace then advised the Governor of South Australia that traditionally the Queen could not enter the Council Chamber unless escorted by such an officer, who was traditionally the Monarch’s representative in Parliament. 83 Whereupon the office of Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod was created in the Legislative Council, later to be modified to Usher of the Black Rod.84 80 Usher of the Black Rod of the Senate of Canada, 'The Usher of the Black Rod', (Senate of Canada, nd.), p.6. 81 Carol Liston, ‘The Legislature of New South Wales’, p.55. 82 Alfred Stephens, President of the Legislative Council, to Major Lockyer, Usher of the Black Rod, 25 August 1856. NSW Parliamentary Archives, No.56/7. 83 Information from Trevor Blowes, Black Rod, Legislative Council of South Australia, December 2007. 84 See Legislative Council Docket No.22 of 1953 concerning the Royal Opening of the Parliament of South Australia 1954. This is a clear example of the strength of the Westminster Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 256 tradition in Australia’s Parliaments and of the links to the British Crown, which remain a powerful influence on their procedures. In Western Australia the office of Black Rod was instituted in 1891, after the inauguration of responsible Government in 1890, and before the first sitting of the Legislative Council.85 The Rods themselves are pure derivations of the original artefact in the House of Lords where several versions have been used over the years from about 1361. The present Rod dates from 1883, some earlier Rods having been retained by the incumbents on relinquishing the office; made from ebony it measures three and a half feet in length (106.68 cm). The cap is a gold lion holding a shield and surmounted by a gilt and crimson enameled crown bearing the initials ‘E vii R’ (Edward VII Rex). The Garter, in blue enamel, with the motto of the Order in gilt, surrounds the Rod, and at the centre is a gold orb embossed with oak leaves, the basic design at the top and bottom. At the bottom the gold knob is surmounted by a 1904 gold sovereign. The basic design of the Rod seems to have altered little since the 17th century and Australian Parliaments have continued the tradition with minor variations. 86 The Legislative Council of New South Wales has three Black Rods; the earliest dates from 1856 and was referred to as a ‘baton’ in the Sydney Morning Herald. 87 85 Correspondence with the Parliamentary Education Officer, Parliament of Western Australia, 20 December 2007. 86 Maurice Bond and David Beamish, The Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod, (London: HMSO, 1976), p.15. 87 Sydney Morning Herald, 23 May 1856. It is of enamelled blackwood, capped with a silver crown and a silver band embossed with a kangaroo and emu and is 1.45 metres in length. No longer used as a functional symbol, it has been retained as an item of historical importance. This is what has also become of the Queensland Rod since the abolition of its Council (upper house) in 1922. The Black Rod in current use in New South Wales dates from around 1901 and is a wooden Rod, enameled Black, with a cap of cast silver, silver bands along its length and a silver ferrule base. The carved cap is a replica of St Edward’s Crown, beneath which, on either side and enclosed in sprays of wattle leaves, are two shields. One shield is inscribed with the letters Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 257 ‘L.C.’ (Legislative Council) and the other bears an early unofficial Australian Coat of Arms. About 5.6cm from the base is a silver ornamented band within which the words ‘Legislative Council’ are engraved. A third Black Rod was presented to the Council in 1974 to commemorate the first meeting of the Council in 1824.88 South Australia’s Rod is 1.5 metres long, of polished ebonite and surmounted by the Crown. It has the Royal Arms in gold on one side and the State emblem (the piping shrike) on the other. On the occasion of the royal visit in 1954 the Black Rod was borrowed from New South Wales and was then used as a model for the new South Australian Black Rod which was delivered to the Council on 3 June 1954. 89 Tasmania’s Rod is shorter than others at 75cm, otherwise it follows the standard pattern, though more closely relating to the Westminster Rod than other Australian examples. Made of ebony, it has a carved gold lion holding the motto of the Order of the Garter and the base is stamped with the Imperial Coat of Arms. The origin of Tasmania’s Rod has never been established, despite extensive searches in the Archives Office of Tasmania and the archives of the Parliamentary Library in Hobart, but it is believed to date from the inauguration of the bicameral parliament in 1856.90 88 Stapleton, ed., Australia's First Parliament, p.131. 89 Information from Jan Davis, Clerk of the Legislative Council of South Australian Parliament, 3 June 2008. 90 Tasmanian Parliamentary Library Backgrounder, ‘Legislative Council Chamber’ in The Legislative Council of Tasmania; an Outline of Its History and Its Proceedings, November 2006, p.12. Information from Terry Newman, Tasmanian Parliamentary Historian, June 2008. The Canadian version also closely follows the Westminster example. One metre in length, it is of turned ebony capped by a gold lion sitting upon a golden orb holding a shield and surmounted by a crown with the Royal cipher, over which is the garter bearing the motto of the order. In the middle is a gilded silver orb embossed with maple leaves and repeated at the base, and a 1904 gold sovereign embellishes the ‘knocking end’. Presented to Canada by the then British Prime Minister David Lloyd George, in 1918 it was to replace the original which was lost in the parliamentary fire of 1916. It cannot be substantiated that the original Black Rod was of exactly the same design as the new one as no documents or photographs of the original can be found, possibly also destroyed in Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 258 the fire.91 The artefact of the Western Australian Parliament departs further from tradition than any of the others. Specially designed for Western Australia by the Crown Jeweller it was presented to the Council to mark the visit of the monarch in 1954. Essentially the same as other Black Rods except it is surmounted by a golden swan and is without any Royal insignia or reference to the Order of the Garter. The lack of Royal insignia on Western Australia’s Rod is in contrast to the Parliament of South Australia which acquired its artefact at about the same time. South Australia closely followed the Westminster tradition in design, copying the Rod of New South Wales, while Western Australia departed from tradition to incorporate the state rather than the royal emblem at its head. This contrast suggests some distancing from the legacy of the British tradition and may reflect the passage of time and some weakening of the links with the Monarch. Before the acquisition of the new Rod in 1954 the officer in Western Australia’s parliament used a snooker or pool cue, painted black, for his ceremonial duty at the opening of parliament ceremony—an ingenious and economical solution to an unusual problem, and a determination to continue with the traditional ceremony in spite of the lack of the major symbol.92 Until 1951 Victoria was also without a Black Rod, although the office was established at the time of bicameralism. In 1951 a rod of wood and plaster was made and used but was too fragile for its ceremonial role of knocking three times on the door of the Legislative Assembly to summon the members to the opening of Parliament ceremony. Without a suitable implement the dignified Usher of the Black Rod had perforce to turn around to kick the door three times with the heel of his shoe; a different less ingenious approach to the problem than that of Western Australia. Dignity and tradition were restored and upheld when the present Black Rod was presented to Parliament to celebrate its centenary in 1952, which meant that Victoria was properly equipped for the Queen’s visit in 1954. 93 91 Potter and Grenon, 'The Usher of the Black Rod', p.6. Correspondence from France Belisle, Archivist of the Senate of Canada, 16 May 2008. 92 Communication from Chris Hunt, Usher of the Black Rod, Western Australian Parliament, 13 May 2008. 93 Unknown, 'Presentation of the Black Rod', Industrial Victoria, September 1952, p.340. The new Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 259 Victorian Rod followed the standard pattern of the artifact. Made of fiddleback blackwood it is 1.3 metres long, and the head, foot and central joint are fashioned from sterling silver and gilded. It is capped by the Royal Coat of Arms and the coat of arms of Victoria in bas-relief, surmounted by a Royal Crown and attached to the upper section of the Rod by a fluted necking. The middle and base features of the Rod bear deep ornamental mouldings based on acanthus leaf designs and is tipped with an 1872 silver florin.94 The Black Rod in the Australian Federal Parliament was made especially for the Provisional Parliament building in Canberra, opened in 1927, and, as in South Australia, the design was based on the artefact used in New South Wales. Originally made of timber it was remade of ebony for the opening of the current (‘New’) Parliament House in 1988. Headed by a silver crown above the Australian coat of arms it is 1.37 metres long and is in three sections with plain silver bands at the centre and another about two thirds down engraved with the words ‘Canberra 9 Victoria closely followed the traditional design, again in contrast to Western Australia, which acquired its Rod two years later in 1954. th May 1927’. The bottom of the rod has a silver cap.95 The mace is another ubiquitous and medieval symbol which lingers as part of the theatre of Westminster parliaments and also in the United States’ lower house. It has similar antecedents to the Black Rod as both are descendants of the tradition of staffs as symbols of authority. A mace is usually found in the lower houses of The various approaches to dealing with the tradition of the Black Rod illustrate the point of the unquestioning adoption of Westminster traditions for Australian Parliaments. The lack of such an officer in South Australia until requested by the Palace, and the improvisations of Victoria and Western Australia when there was no implement for the officer to perform the ceremonial duties, clearly demonstrate the strength of the forces of tradition and path dependence. 94 Raymond Wright, A People's Counsel: A History of the Parliament of Victoria 1856-1990, (Melbourne: Oxford University Press, 1992), p.187. 95 Communication from Andrea Griffiths, Usher of the Black Rod, The Senate, Parliament of Australia, 16 November 2007. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 260 Australia where it is a dramatic symbol of Royal Authority and representing the authority delegated to the House of Commons by the Monarch in the past. It lies on the Table in front of the Speaker of the lower house when Members are in debate and when the house dissolves into the Committee of the Whole House it is placed under the table in accordance with House of Commons practice. It is carried in and out of the chamber by the Serjeant-at-Arms in a procession at the beginning and end of each day and must be in position before the debate can proceed. This procedure also applies in the House of Lords, which has two Maces because the Lord Chancellor is both Speaker and Lord Chancellor. The Lords’ Mace is carried in a procession into the Chamber by the Yeoman Usher (of the Black Rod, deputy to the Gentleman Usher of the Black Rod), placed on the Woolsack behind the Lord Chancellor and remains there during the debate.96 A mace is a staff with a massive metal head directly derived from a primitive war club originally designed to pierce armour and was a weapon allowed to medieval clerics who were forbidden to shed blood by the sword. It became ornate and richly decorated as it came into ceremonial use. 97 The tradition of a mace in the upper house is only otherwise observed in Canada where it is placed on the table in the Senate when the chamber is in session. It lies on the table with its crown placed in the direction of the throne (chair). Made of brass and gold, the 1.6 metre long mace dates from the mid-19th century and is carried into the Chamber during the Speaker’s Parade which starts and ends each sitting of the Senate—another example of continuing the traditions of the House of Lords but one that has not been followed by the Australian Parliaments, where the mace is a symbol only in the lower houses.98 The Black Rod and the mace are both visible and important icons in the proceedings of Parliaments. A third icon, the Bar of the House, is less obvious or ornamental, though that in the House of Lords is quite large and ornate. It is at the entry into the Chamber opposite the Throne and is a potent symbol of exclusion 96 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.186. 97 Clerk of the Senate of Canada, 'The Senate Mace', (Unpublished: c.1966.). 98 Ibid. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 261 and privilege. It serves to define where the Upper Chamber begins and beyond which only Members and Clerks can pass. It is also to this Bar that witnesses and persons ordered into custody for breach of privilege are brought and where counsel stand when pleading before the House. The exclusion aspect of the Bar is most evident at the ceremony of the Opening of Parliament when members of the House of Commons are summoned to the Lords Chamber to hear the speech from the throne.99 All Westminster Parliaments follow this tradition, though in a more modest style and in the different upper chambers the Bar is either a low door or gate. In the case of the House of Lords it is a panelled construction about three feet (91.44cm) high, nine feet (2.74m) wide and three (91.44cm) deep with posts at each corner and an enclosed space for the Speaker when attending the opening of Parliament ceremony. It is decorated with symbols, the monogram V.R. (Victoria Regina) and small figures of the lion and the unicorn holding shields surmount the two inner posts. They are not permitted beyond the Bar, but have to jostle uncomfortably together in the small space to face the monarch to listen to the speech from the throne. 100 Behind it is a metal rail which can be opened to allow the MPs to assemble closer to the Bar on ceremonial occasions.101 This symbol is present in all Australian upper chambers and Canada, and is a direct derivation from the House of Lords, though none are so grand, and in several Councils it is represented by a brass rail which can be closed or retracted, as in the House of Commons. This is true of South Australia and Tasmania. In New South Wales it is a brass gate, in Queensland it no longer exists, though a photograph of the Chamber circa 1869 shows that there was a bar, although it is not clear what it was made of, how it worked, or what shape it was. 102 99 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.211. 100 Sir Robert Cooke, The Palace of Westminster: Houses of Parliament, (London: Burton Skira Ltd, 1987), p.144. Arnold Wright and Philip Smith, Parliament Past and Present, a popular and picturesque account of a thousand years in the Palace of Westminster, the home of the mother of Parliaments, (London, Hutchinson & Co., 1902), p.244. 101 Information from the House of Lords Information Office, 20 November, 2007. Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.211. 102 Correspondence from Joanna Fear, Research librarian, Queensland Parliament, 10 May 2008. In the Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 262 Canadian Senate it is a brass railing just inside the main entrance and across two passages on either side of the Clerks’ Table. A wooden barrier covers the central section. In Victoria it is an elaborately carved gate rather than a rail but ‘there is a place where a rail, may be placed, if required’.103 In Western Australia it is a brass bar some 8cm in diameter which can be withdrawn into the wooden balustrade at the entrance to the chamber.104 The Bar of the Australian Senate in the 1927 Provisional Parliament House, is composed of two simply carved, waist high doors of blackbean and blackwood, across the central entrance of the Chamber opposite the President’s chair. The Report which describes the Bar also mentions that they will be placed in ‘a similar position to those in the present senate’.105 The Bar is most prominent at the remarkable and historic ceremony of the Opening of Parliament held in all Westminster Parliaments. This is a tradition which shows the disjunction between the ‘Commons political primacy and ceremonial inferiority’, and is no longer really a valid procedure, yet it endures, sustained by the strength of tradition and supported by elaborate and spectacular ritual and symbolism. At that time the Senate sat in the Victorian Council Chamber and this remark demonstrates again the dependence on past practice in the design of Legislative chambers. 106 103 Clerk of the Parliaments, The Parliament of Victoria and Parliament House, (Melbourne: Parliament of Victoria, 1985), p.21. 104 Correspondence from the Parliamentary Education Office, Parliament of Western Australia, 20 December 2007. 105 Federal Capital Advisory Committee, 'Construction of Canberra, First General Report', (Melbourne: The Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia, 1921), p.4. 106 Crewe, pp.211-12. In this ceremony the members of the lower house are invited to the upper house chamber to hear the Governor deliver the speech from the Vice-Regal Chair which announces the Government’s programme. The House of Lords’ practice of keeping the lower house members outside the Bar is not followed in all Australian Parliaments or the Canadian Senate, which underlines the anachronistic nature of the procedure. For reasons of comfort and space, except for Tasmania and Victoria, members of the lower houses are invited into the chamber to hear the speech from the Governor, and in the Federal Parliament they have always been Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 263 accommodated in the Chamber to hear the speech from the Governor-General.107 In Tasmania’s Parliament they are accommodated behind the Bar on specially provided seats and in Victoria they assemble at the Bar of the House, or other vantage points at the side of the chamber, but are not allowed to enter the floor of the House. There are exceptions to this rule in Victoria, and the Speaker, Premier, Deputy Premier and Leader of the Opposition and Deputy Leader of the Opposition parties are assigned seats on the floor of the House, a departure from traditional practice in favour of preserving the dignity of senior members of the lower house.108 In Western Australia members of the House of Representatives enter the Council chamber via the withdrawn bar to stand behind the back row of Council seats. In South Australia they enter the chamber and take seats at the rear while Councillors sit at the front.109 Ceremony is a traditional aspect that plays an important part in the proceedings of all upper houses and again the major example, indeed the progenitor, of many of the ceremonies that occur in Australian Parliaments can be traced back to Westminster. Yet ceremony is sometimes dismissed as being of little consequence. Goldwin Smith, the Canadian historian, saw the Canadian Senate as surrounded with ‘derisive state’ and that the ceremonious environment was ‘merely the trappings of impotence’. 110 Others regard ceremonies as integral to the parliamentary institution but consider that they need to be inspiring and dignified as well as honest and meaningful to participants and observers.111 107 Correspondence from Andrea Griffiths, Usher of the Black Rod, Parliament of Australia, 3 December 2007. 108 Information from John Breukel, Senior Reference Librarian, Parliament of Victoria, 19 November 2007. 109 Communication from the Chris Hunt, Usher of the Black Rod, Parliament of Western Australia, 20 December 2007, and Trevor Blowes, Black Rod, Parliament of South Australia, 19 November, 2007. 110 J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers–an Inductive Study in Political Science, (Oxford: Clarendon, 1910), pp.142-3. 111 Parliament of Australia, 'Balancing Tradition and Progress: Procedures for the Opening of Parliament', Section 3.44, p.33. There is also a strong emotional component in ceremony in that impressive ceremonies can move an observer in ways that rational discussion cannot. In this way the most public and regular ceremony, as well as the most impressive, in the House of Lords is, Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 264 again, the opening of Parliament ceremony, held when the Monarch from her throne, opens a new Parliament in the Lords Chamber. Such a glorious spectacle moves observers to feel awe and respect for the participants and, through them, for the institution, as well as inspiring loyalty to the system. The British Parliament opening ceremony takes place in London annually in November, or at the opening of a new parliament after an election. Australian and Canadian Parliaments also faithfully stage this ceremony, though in modified style and usually only at the inauguration of a new Parliament. Nor is it such a public spectacle as in Westminster—Governors and the Governor-General arrive at Parliament in limousines and then disappear into the building where the ceremony is carried out before invited guests.112 The spectacular and awesome ceremony is imbued with ritual and symbols. In London it begins with a royal procession and the Monarch’s royal progress through the streets of London in her golden coach. Ensconced on her throne the Monarch then sends Black Rod to the Commons to fetch the Members of Parliament. This is followed by the ritual of the Serjeant-at-Arms slamming the door of the Commons in Black Rod’s face, who then knocks three times with his Rod to demand entrance and request the members’ attendance on the Monarch in the Lords. The hostile reception by the Commons is intended to indicate its independence from the Crown and that never again will a monarch so overreach his authority as Charles I did in 1642, precipitating civil war by riding to Parliament to arrest five MPs. 113 After responding to the summons and arriving at the Lords’ Chamber, the MPs have to crowd together with the Speaker in the centre, in the small space between the entrance and the bar, at the opposite end of the Chamber from the Monarch to listen to the speech from the throne outlining the Government’s programme.114 112 This elaborate ceremony has no place in the United States Congress due to the different relationships between their two houses and the different structure of their legislatures. 113 Crewe, Lords of Parliament, p.211. 114 Ibid. Crewe has colourfully described the opening ceremony in the Lords as a glittering occasion: ‘The State opening of Parliament in London, when the monarch, who has iconic status in the Chamber, gathers her Lords about her and sheds stardust of Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 265 almost superhuman status over them’ and within the Lords’ Chamber spectacle dominates the proceedings.115 The opening ceremony began almost accidentally with the acquisition of York Palace (later Whitehall Palace) by the king, which gave him a new and more convenient residence only a few hundred yards from the Palace of Westminster. When Parliament opened in 1536, the King and the Lords rode from York Palace to the Palace of Westminster and Parliament was opened in the then White Chamber, or House of Lords, instead of in the Painted Chamber as before. The origin of the current Westminster ceremony and the role of Black Rod originated in the early 17th century when the Usher of the Black Rod summoned the House of Commons to attend the sovereign in the House of Lords. This was a period of conflict and civil war between the Commons and the King and it became tradition to close the door of the Commons Chamber in the face of Black Rod who then used his Rod to knock on the door three times for admission. This ritual is re-enacted at every Opening of Parliament in Britain and in Australia and as a reminder of the authority and independence of Parliament from the sovereign. 116 The ritual opening of Parliament, emulating the custom of the British Houses of Parliament, began in Australia in New South Wales in 1856 with the establishment of the bicameral legislature and the tradition has been followed by all the colonial parliaments since.117 Thus began, with occasional deviations, the regular practice of opening parliament in the upper house (or House of Lords), which continues to the present day and is copied by the Australian Parliaments and the Canadian Parliament with tradition being the only justification for such an elaborate ceremony. Here is a clear case of the adoption of tradition as in path dependence though based upon a genuine legacy from the Westminster institution. 118 115 Ibid., p.22. 116 Liston, ‘The Legislature of New South Wales;’ p.55. 117 Ibid. 118 Henry S. Cobb, 'The Staging of Ceremonies in the House of Lords', in The Houses of Parliament: History Art Architecture, 2000), p.35. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 266 The opening of the first Australian Commonwealth Parliament was a challenge for the officials and Parliamentarians and, as discussed above, advice was provided to the Governor-General, Lord Hopetoun by Joseph Chamberlain and passed on to the Prime Minister. The letter reveals that it was planned to follow tradition in this matter in Federal Parliament as in the colonial legislatures. At this stage there was also much agitation over whether the Prince of Wales could open the first Parliament in 1901, as the Constitution clearly stated that this was the prerogative of the Governor-General. The problem was overcome by the Prince making a welcome speech and the Governor-General opening Parliament.119 Further advice on procedure was also sought in 1903 by Blackmore, the Clerk of the Senate, from the Clerk of the Parliaments in Westminster (H.J.L. Graham). In a long and detailed reply Graham advised of daily procedure in the Lords’ Chamber as carried out in the Westminster Parliament. 120 The correspondence is clear evidence of the derivative nature of parliamentary ceremony in Australia, ceremony which, according to a paper by the House of Representatives, brings to members a sense of a new beginning, unified purpose, commitment to their electors and to their role, and a connection with the institution of Parliament, its long history and the struggle to achieve democracy.121 A further important example of the derivation of practice, demonstrating how ritual can become a major element of the business and proceedings of an ancient and continuing institution, is the number of officials who carry out the administrative duties required for Parliaments to function smoothly. The major players in the drama of upper houses are, of course, the members, elected or appointed, but they are supported by an army of administrators and officials, many of whose offices date back to medieval times and the traditions of the Lords, as shown in the case of the Black Rod. Some of these traditional offices are undertaken by elected members of the House while others are professional appointments. Among the 119 Hopetoun to Barton, February 1901.Barton Papers, NLA ms-ms51-1-761-s1. 120 H.J.L. Graham to E.G.Blackmore, 28 July 1903, NAA, A6, 1901/1090 121 Parliament of Australia, 'Balancing Tradition and Progress: Procedures for the Opening of Parliament', p.26. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 267 official roles carried out by members of Australian and Canadian Parliaments, which includes the President and the Deputy President, is that of the party ‘whips’ an office which is an exact derivation of the tradition in the House of Lords. The term ‘whip’ derives from the foxhunting tradition of having a whipper-in for the fox hounds to prevent them from straying off on their own business and aptly describes the main duty of the parliamentary party whips, who are appointed by their party and, as well as managing other business in the Chamber, keep track of the party members to ensure that they are present for the all important business of voting in divisions.122 The most important professional officials of the House are the Clerks, also derived from the practice in the Lords. Not all of the officials in the House of Lords were adopted by the Australian Parliaments but, as Reid and Forrest explain, ‘Only one or two of the more esoteric positions failed to make the journey, presumably on the grounds of economy and size’ but enough of them were to prove the point that path dependence was a strong factor in their adoption. 123 In the Lords the Clerk of the House is also the Clerk of the Parliaments and there is a Deputy Clerk and a number of Assistant Clerks with varying responsibilities. Clerks service select committees, ensure that formal records are kept and prepare the order papers for each day’s business.124 The practice is followed almost exactly in the Australian, Canadian and United States Senates. The Melbourne Argus reported in 1901 that George Jenkins, Clerk of the House, and E.G.Blackmore, Clerk of the Senate, had discussions with the Prime Minister, Edmund Barton concerning the officers required for both houses of the new Federal Parliament and ‘settled the issue’.125 This is not an exhaustive account of the support staff and there are other apparently minor appointments, such as ‘Doorkeepers’ which have evolved into significant officials. ‘Doorkeepers’ were first appointed to supervise who came in 122 Kenneth Bradshaw and David Pring, Parliament and Congress, (London: Quartet Books, 1972), p.30. Party whips also feature in the United States Senate. 123 G.S. Reid and Martyn Forrest, Australia's First Commonwealth Parliament, (Melbourne: Melbourne University Press, 1989), p.399. 124 Shell, The House of Lords, p.97. Weatherford, Tribes on the Hill, p.222. 125 Argus, 15 April 1901. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 268 and left the chamber and to guard the Chamber doors when a division was called. In the Lords they wear white ties and tailcoats and a large gold badge for identification. This office has not been adopted in Australian Councils or the Senate but it has been adopted in the United States Congress. A final example of the strength of tradition is in the name of the formal record, which in the Lords is known as Hansard because it was initially printed by Thomas Curson Hansard from 1809. The name has remained even though the production was taken over by Parliament in 1909. The clinging to the name by later Australian and Canadian Parliaments prolongs the tradition for no logical reason and, though the name is different in the United States, the tradition of keeping a record is adhered to in the Congressional Record. Though this is, at first glance, a practical procedure rather than just another ritual, Weatherford saw it not as an account of the decision-making process but an account of the ritual process.126 This summary of the principal symbols, rituals and ceremonies included in Australia’s parliamentary practices is an attempt to trace their origins and purposes. It is clear from the foregoing that the influence of Westminster has been powerful and almost inescapable, even when impractical. The examples chosen show clearly the legacy of Westminster in the Parliaments of Australia, Canada and the United States. The phenomenon is not unique to Legislatures and can be found in other organisations which have existed for many years. What is different is the transfer of symbols, rituals and ceremonies, almost unchanged, across continents and cultures and even centuries. Even though Westminster-style parliaments all legitimately claim an inheritance from Great Britain, it is notable that many of the adoptions are all but meaningless in their new location, except that they add theatre and importance and a display of authority. They can be traced to many factors: tradition; the Westminster legacy; the desire to belong to a greater whole; and the fact they are part of a tradition long established. The most powerful influence that emerged from close scrutiny was the emotional reward derived from 126 Weatherford, Tribes on the Hill, p.200. Chapter 8: The Ritual is Real in Politics 269 replicating age-old icons and customs that establish continuity and maintain reassuring links with the past. Conclusion: The Upper House we Had to Have 270 Conclusion: The Upper House we Had to Have The tradition of all the dead generations weighs like a nightmare on the brain of the living.1 In addition, many delegates, cautious and conservative as they were, were unnerved by the prospect of untrammelled democracy. An upper house was frequently seen as a protection against the masses and necessary to restrain the impulsive democratically elected lower house by acting as a ‘counterpoise to democratic fervour’ and to ‘limit potential excesses of first chambers’. Karl Marx. Why does Australia have a Senate? This thesis has argued that the heart ruled, in part, the head. The men who created the Senate had a deep attachment to Britain and its institutions and many were seduced by the historical authority of the House of Lords. They could see themselves sitting on its red leather benches. Moreover the overwhelming number of delegates had cut their political teeth in bicameral colonial parliaments. To depart from this basic model would be to turn their backs on themselves. At the same time they felt able to adjust the structure of the system to some degree by the example of the mother of parliaments itself. The frequent reference to the Reform Act of 1832 underscores their belief that the British Constitution was organic. 2 There were other influences, of course, many of them practical and stemming from the delegates’ own parliamentary experience. The passionate debate that led to the provision of a method of dealing with deadlocks between the Houses, for 1 Karl Marx, The Eighteenth Brumaire of Louis Bonaparte:with explanatory notes, (New York: New York, International Publishers, 1964), p.15. 2 J.A. Marriott, Second Chambers - an Inductive Study in Political Science (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1910), p.3. Donald Shell, The House of Lords, (London: Harvester Wheatsheaf, 1992), pp.1- 2. Conclusion: The Upper House we Had to Have 271 example, clearly revealed the delegates’ experience of such conflict in their Colonial Parliaments, where it had sometimes threatened the stability of Government. The method finally arrived at was a cumbersome process, daunting in its final solution of a dissolution of both houses followed by a general election. The possibility of conflict was recognised by the delegates and demonstrates the inherent instability of bicameralism which is strongly influenced by the composition of the upper house. The decision to have an elected Senate for Australia grew out of this possibility, in that upper houses elected on other than a democratic basis can be perceived as inequitable. Another finding refutes the assumption held by many that the Australian Government is a hybrid of the Washington and Westminster systems, a so-called Washminster hybrid. In fact the findings of this thesis show that the Australian Federal Government is in many respects a true descendant of Westminster, except for the non-hereditary nature of the composition of its upper house. This becomes clearer on observing the buildings, the chambers, the rituals, practices and procedures of the Australian Senate and their direct derivation from Westminster, even when not really practical or necessary—though the argument that ritual and procedure are necessary to promote respect and confidence, is a valid one. That the existence of the Senate was not determined at the Federation Conventions of 1891 and 1897-8 is another finding. Despite many weeks of debate on a new Constitution for the Australian Commonwealth by the 84 delegates, the fact is that bicameralism was set in stone from the beginning, even before the beginning, as foreshadowed by Parkes in his speech in 1889.3 3 Ken Halliday, Parkes Federation Call to the People, (Observatory Hill, New South Wales: National Trust of Australia, 1999), p.23. The final establishment of a bicameral system, which included a Senate, followed almost exactly the pattern of the Australian Colonies and the Government of Great Britain. The major departure was of course in the membership of the Senate. In this the delegates looked to the model of the United States and justified the establishment of an upper house, or Senate, as a States’ House, where each State had equal Conclusion: The Upper House we Had to Have 272 representation. This solved both the questions of the role of an upper house and its membership and made up for the impossibility of exactly replicating the House of Lords. Though the research shows many delegates read quite widely, some more than others, it was clear that any views opposed to the establishment of an upper house were not taken seriously. This was most clearly demonstrated by the dismissal of the efforts of the New South Wales Labour Party to send delegates to the 1898 Convention and the absence of any opposition to a Senate expressed at the Conventions. Some delegates did express misgivings, such as Henry Higgins of Victoria, but his comments were mild and infrequent and drew no response. The minds of the delegates were set upon the establishment of an upper house as part of the bicameral system. This was decided quite without any direction, or even suggestion, by the British Government, or that the Constitution needed the approval of that body, as is clear from the absence of any comments on that aspect in the debates. Approval was sought and obtained from Britain on the final version of the Constitution and the celebrations of the delegates in London at the acceptance of the Constitution by the British Government, clearly demonstrated their respect and a certain deference in their attitude to Westminster.4 Though they sought independence and self-government they were not prepared to ‘cut the painter’: that is sever all ties with Britain and the Empire.5 The newly formed, independent, self-governing nation of Australia was not to be allowed to let go of the British connection, not because the British insisted, but because the decision- makers did. An insistence on retaining ties with Britain is a view expressed by many influential convention delegates including Higgins, Deakin, Turner and Peacock.6 Their attitude was in stark contrast to the views becoming popular in Sydney in the 1890s and expressed by the popular Bulletin magazine, whose motto was 4 J.A. La Nauze, Alfred Deakin, (Oxford: Oxford, 1962), vol.1, p. 190. 5 This is boating reference to a rope attached to the bow of a small boat for tying it to a ship, quay, etc. meaning do not cut the connection to the mother ship. 6 G. McDonald, ‘The Political and Social Ideology of the Australian Founding Fathers’ (Unpublished PhD Thesis, University of Queensland, 1967), p.40. Conclusion: The Upper House we Had to Have 273 ’Australia for the Australians’. Edited by journalist J.F. Archibald, who hoped for a self-reliant, even independent Australia, the magazine was widely read and admired.7 Many had had experience of government in their Colonies and they respected and admired Britain, which they regarded as their homeland, and the British system of Government. This was reinforced by the fact that the six Australian colonies had adopted the bicameral system on achieving self-government, some even using the appointment method for members of their upper houses, or Legislative Councils. The appointment method stemmed from the view, held in the very early days, that it could lead to a colonial nobility. For many reasons however, continuing membership of the empire was not inconsistent with large measures of self-reliance and independence. A lack of confidence was also apparent in the debates when the delegates referred frequently to the opinions of recognised writers and thinkers to support their arguments. These selected ideas and views were underpinned by the life experiences of the delegates who were, for the most part, successful, prosperous and educated citizens. Their readings gave them food for thought and a framework for debate. Though the evidence shows that the authorities were not greatly influential in changing attitudes or opinions, they were used to validate and support their arguments. The reliance on authorities as a crutch for their beliefs demonstrated a conflict in the delegates’ ideas between the need for the support of authorities in their decisions and their earnest endeavours to create an independent nation. At the same time we have seen numerous instances where the delegates were simply wrong on the details of the models they introduced into the debate. Clearly politicians are not always great students of politics. 8 7 Ibid., p.42. Sylvia Lawson, The Archibald Paradox: A Strange Case of Authorship, (Ringwood, Victoria: Penguin Books, 1983). 8 See: Ged Martin, Bunyip Aristocracy, (Sydney: Croom Helm, 1986). This idea clearly demonstrates the strength of the inclination towards doing things as they had always been done, even if demonstrably impractical and anachronistic, as shown in the continuing performance of the mediaeval ceremony of the Opening of Parliament with its underlying theme of defying the Monarch. The concept of path dependence, as Conclusion: The Upper House we Had to Have 274 developed in political science, helps explain this phenomenon, the powerful urge to imitate the past, and which cannot be denied. The delegates were haunted not only by their forebears but by their own experience. The strongest precedents for the delegates’ decisions were the six Australian colonial houses, because nearly all the delegates had been members of their Colony’s legislature. These had been closely modelled on the Westminster system which itself goes back to the Middle Ages and some of the historical traditions go back even to ancient times. In addition to the influence of the colonial parliaments, other constitutions were drawn into the debates; the referendum, used to settle Constitutional change, was drawn from Switzerland which used them extensively, the joint sitting, used to settle disputes between the houses, came from Norway and the major one of a Senate as a States’ House where the states were equally represented, from the United States. Though other constitutions were discussed in the debates, some at length, delegates’ knowledge of them including the major models of the House of Lords and the United States was not always sound. This did not deter them from suggesting them as models or dismissing them as having nothing to offer. Though other models were hotly debated, in fact little was adopted from them, except where they offered a solution to a problem not answered by the Westminster model, as shown above. The major problem was with deadlocks and arose from the bitter experiences of the lower house delegates in their Colonial Parliaments where the upper house had refused to pass legislation. This led to a long and acrimonious debate of the subject. Some delegates objected to any system to deal with deadlocks on the grounds that they did not have them in Westminster or Washington, an indication of the imperfect knowledge of the delegates. In Westminster at that time the solution, a drastic one, was to appoint more members of the upper house, a strategy which had been used in some colonial parliaments, while in the United States there was a system of holding Conferences between the houses which had become a very important part of Congressional business. Conclusion: The Upper House we Had to Have 275 The weight of tradition is most clearly evident in the adoption of many of the procedures and practices by the Australian Senate which are a direct derivation from the House of Lords. What is more surprising is the lack of records on this aspect. The introduction of many of the procedures, symbols, and appointments were made by experienced officials, most of whom came from the Colonial parliaments. The writing of the Standing Orders for the Senate by the Clerk of the Parliaments E.G. Blackmore, is an illustration of this. The politicians relied on their senior officials to manage the more mundane aspects of parliamentary procedure, hence the scarcity of discussion on these things in official records such as Hansard. The ceremonial and architectural aspects of the parliaments, where the delegates had served their political apprenticeships, are the strongest and most visible indication of the influence of the Westminster traditions that pervade the upper houses of Australia, including the Senate. From the grandeur of the buildings, to the shape and seating layout of the Chambers, the red colouring, the ranking of officials and members, Westminster was the model in almost every detail. The extension of the confrontational layout to an elongated U-shaped pattern, which has become the norm for Australia, was but a minor variation on a time-honoured theme. Marx was correct to point to the importance of tradition in conditioning the ‘brain’ of the living but he was wrong to describe it as a nightmare. The men, and they were all men, who created the Senate, did so willingly and enthusiastically. Although many of delegates subsequently sought election to the House of Representatives the majority saw themselves as ideal candidates for places on the red leather benches of an august House of review, a bastion against democracy or at least a check on hasty legislation, wise guardians of a British future for their new nation. 276 Appendices 277 Appendix 1 Schedule of Books recommended by Richard Baker Author Title City Publisher Adams and Cunningham 1887 Swiss Confederation London MacMillan & Co. Bagehot 1877 The English Constitution London H.S.King & Co. Bluntschli 1885 Theory of State Federal Government in Canada Oxford Clarendon Press Bourinot 1887 Federal Government in Canada Baltimore Massey Bourinot 1888 Manual of the Constitution of Canada Montreal Dawson Bros. Bryce 1889 The American Commonwealth London MacMillan & Co. Creswell 1890 History of the Dominion Of Canada Oxford Clarendon Press De Tocqueville 1887 Democracy in America London Longman, Green & Co. Dicey 1886 England’s case against Home Rule London J.Murray Dicey 1887 The Law of the Constitution London MacMillan Dicey April 1890 The Referendum London Contemporary Review Forsayth 1869 Cases and opinions on Constitutional Law London Stevens & Haynes Freeman July 1890 The Referendum London Universal Review Gavan Duffy Feb., 1890 The Road to Australian Federation London Contemporary Review Goldwin Smith July 1887 The Canadian Constitution London Contemporary Review Hamilton Madison and Jay 1875 The Federalist Papers (This edition contains an epitome of the discussions of the Philadelphia Convention) Philadel- phia J.B.Lippincott & Co. Freeman On Presidential Government Not specified Not specified Hansard (Canadian) 1865 British North American Debates Quebec Hunter, Rose, & Co. 278 Appendix 1 Schedule of Books recommended by Richard Baker Author Title City Publisher Kent 1858 Commentaries on American Law Boston Little, Brown & Co. Lowell Feb. 1888 English and American Federation London Fortnightly Review Monro 1889 Constitution of Canada Cambridge University Press Montesquieu Esprit de Lois Not specified Not specified Parkin 1890 Five Lectures on the Constitution of Canada Adelaide Register Newspaper Story 1854 On the American Constitution New York Harper Bros. Tarring 1887 Laws relating to the Colonies London Stevens &Haynes Todd 1880 Parliamentary Government in the Colonies London Longman, Green & Co. Webster 1879 Speeches London Sampson, Low & Co. Appendix 2 Seating Arrangements in Upper Chambers 279 Roman Curia From: www.vroma.org/~bmcmanus/curiaplan.jpg. Accessed 12 December 2008. Lords’ Chamber From: Donald Shell, The House of Lords, p.85. Appendix 2 Seating Arrangements in Upper Chambers 280 New South Wales From: Maisy Stapleton, Australia's First Parliament. p.142. Tasmania From: The Legislative Council of Tasmania: an outline of its history and proceedings. p.3. Appendix 2 Seating Arrangements in Upper Chambers 281 Victoria From: Parliament House, Vol.2. Public Works Dept. 1981. South Australia South Australia Appendix 2 Seating Arrangements in Upper Chambers 282 From the pamphlet ‘The Parliament of South Australia’. Queensland From: Queensland State Archives, Parliament House, Legislative Chamber and Gallery, 1923, Item 588535. Western Australia From: http://www.parliament.wa.gov.au/plans/council/les_council.htm. Accessed 12 December 2008. http://www.parliament.wa.gov.au/plans/council/les_council.htm� Appendix 2 Seating Arrangements in Upper Chambers 283 United States From: United States Web Site From: http://www.senate.gov/artandhistory/art/special/Desks/chambermap.cfm. Accessed 23 April 2008. Canada Plan received from France Belisle, Canadian Senate Archivist, 16 April, 2008. http://www.senate.gov/artandhistory/art/special/Desks/chambermap.cfm.%20%20%20%20Accessed%2023%20April%202008� Appendix 3 Architectural Plans of Australia’s Provisional Parliament House showing proposed seating layouts 284 Plan of Provisional Parliament House showing Senate with U-shaped seating layout. Senate is shown lower right. From: Provisional Houses of Parliament: architectural plan September 1922. Parliamentary Standing Committee on Public Works, Report 1923. Appendix 3 Architectural Plans of Australia’s Provisional Parliament House showing proposed seating layouts 285 Ground Floor Plan of Parliament House, 1923, showing a blank Senate floor. From: NAA A2541 P302/2 1925-29 Appendix 3 Architectural Plans of Australia’s Provisional Parliament House showing proposed seating layouts 286 Plan of Senate layout 1925 showing the horse-shoe shape From: NAA 76/1266 1925 Plan of Senate layout 1926 showing the U-shaped layout which was adopted From: NAA A2617/1 SECTION 76/1672. Appendix 4 The Chambers of Upper Houses 287 The House of Lords From: House of Lords website http://www.explore.parliament.uk/cms/ResourceImages/Lords_Chamber.jpg. Accessed 17 October 2008. Appendix 4 The Chambers of Upper Houses 288 New South Wales Legislative Council Chamber From: Courtesy of New South Wales Parliament. Tasmanian Legislative Council Chamber From: Tasmanian Parliamentary Library http://www.parliament.tas.gov.au/tpl/Backg/LCCHamber.htm. Accessed 17 October 2008. http://www.parliament.tas.gov.au/tpl/Backg/LCCHamber.htm� Appendix 4 The Chambers of Upper Houses 289 Victorian Legislative Council Chamber From: Michael Cheshire, Parliament House, Victoria. Pamphlet. South Australian Legislative Council Chamber From: G.D.Combe, The Parliament of South Australia, 1982. Appendix 4 The Chambers of Upper Houses 290 The Legislative Council Chamber of Western Australia From: Courtesy of the Western Australian Parliament. Queensland Legislative Council Chamber From: Parliament House Queensland pamphlet. Appendix 4 The Chambers of Upper Houses 291 The United States Senate Chamber From: United States Website senate.gov/artandhistory/history/common/image/108th_Congress.htm Accessed 27 July 2008 The Canadian Senate Chamber From the Library of the Parliament of Canada. Appendix 4 The Chambers of Upper Houses 292 The Senate Chamber of Australia’s Provisional Parliament House From: Picasaweb.google.com. Accessed 11 August 2008. 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Web Site of Venice. http://www.venetia.it/m_ducale_eng.htm. http://www.peo.gov.au/students/now_senate� http://www.bbc.co.uk/history� http://www.parliament.nsw.gov.au/� http://www.parl.gc.ca/information/about/process/senate/factsheet/redchamber-ehtm� http://www.aph.gov.au/Senate/pubs/standing_orders/index.htm� http://www.ttrn.com/dchanstammemagiparliament.htm� http://www.metrum.org/perswars/sky.htm� http://www.aoc.gov/cc/capitol/capitol_location.cfm.� http://www.historyhome.co.uk/europe/3rd-rep.html.� http://www.historyhome.co.uk/europe/3rd-rep.html.� http://www.uppercanadahistory.ca/pp/pp1.html� http://www.venetia.it/m_ducale_eng.htm� A.Title Page and Declaration B. Acknowledgements C. Abstract D. Table of Contents E. Abbreviations F. Delegates to all Conventions G. Chapter 1 final Chapter 1 Introduction Why does Australia have a Senate? We do not require a great Dominion Parliament, such as exists in Canada, relegating, as it does, all local Legislatures into mere parish vestries. We require something in the shape of the Government of the United States, where clearly defined powers a... I was exceedingly amused at the debates in South Australia on this subject. We found member after member saying that he saw no need for a second house at all. Member after member said, ‘What is the use of a Senate, it is not wanted.P9F And Josiah Symon, in the same discussion on what should be the name for the Upper Chamber, said: if it is to be a second chamber in any sense of the term at all, one would think … there ought to be some different character about it in some way or other so as to differentiate it from the other chamber, otherwise what on earth is the good of having... To which Higgins, clearly an opponent of the idea interjected, not so mildly: ‘Just so; what is the good?’ A survey of the newspapers of the day shows that the debates were dutifully reported and opinions of the role and structure of the Senate freely... The Federation Conventions were held in Sydney, Melbourne and Adelaide, beginning in 1890 with a Conference in Melbourne which drew up the procedures for a formal Convention. The first of these was held in Sydney in 1891 and the last went on for three... The major difference between the three meetings was that the delegates to the 1890 Conference and the 1891 Convention were appointed by the parliaments of the six Australian Colonies, plus two appointed by the legislature of New Zealand. Delegates to ... The hiatus from 1891 occurred for several reasons but was due mainly to the failure of the New South Wales Parliament to proceed and the other parliaments were equally irresolute. Despite this inaction the Federation issue was not allowed to die but w... Running to over 6,000 pages, the proceedings of the Conventions were faithfully recorded and published in the Records of the Australasian Federal Conventions of the 1890s. Produced in the Hansard tradition using reporters from the Colonial parliaments... H. Chapter 2 final Chapter 2 On Whose Authority? I. Chapter 3 final Chapter 3 In Their Own Image: did the delegates to the Conventions see themselves as models of an ideal senator? J. Chapter 4 final Chapter 4 ‘The Wisest, the Safest, the Best’P0F P: Colonial Upper Houses as models K. Chapter 5 final Chapter 5 The Lamp of Experience Lyne was the first to introduce the subject. Speaking on the issue of disagreement between the houses, he explained that in the draft Australian Constitution: ‘There is no power to bring the two houses together. There is no referendum … such as the Sw... L. Chapter 6 final Chapter 6 A Proper Forum for Sober Second Thought: the Senates of Canada and the United States as models for the Australian Senate M. Chapter 7 Final Chapter 7 The Inherent Sacredness of Sovereign PowerP0F P: Parliamentary Architecture and the Australian Senate N. Chapter 8 final Chapter 8 The Ritual is Real in Politics: Tradition, Ritual, Symbolism and Ceremony in the Australian Senate O. Conclusion Conclusion: The Upper House we Had to Have P. Appendix 1 Appendix 1 Schedule of Books recommended by Richard Baker Appendix 1 Schedule of Books recommended by Richard Baker Q. Appendix 2 Chamber diagrams R. Appendix 3 OPH HISTORIC plans S. Appendix 4 Chambers pics T. Bibliography Primary Sources Official Records of the Australasian Federation Conventions The Records are available on-line at ‘Records of the Australasian Federal Conventions of the 1890s’ http://www.aph.gov.au/senate/pubs/records.htm. Constitutions Unpublished papers 
work_gsgkk6yknrceph4ts3cc2ld7uq	----	&3 P3 Co /o • / The P h i l o s o p h i c a l I m p l i c a t i o n s of- The P o e t i o I m p u l s e i n W e s t e r n C i v i l i z a t i o n by E I L E E N LEE GIDNEY A THESIS SUBMITTED I N PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS I N THE DEPARTMENT OF PHILOSOPHY THE UNIVERSITY OF B R I T I S H COLUMBIA A P R I L , 194-8 P r e c i s : ^ o r L i b r a r y ) T i t l e : "The P h i l o s o p h i c a l I m p l i c a t i o n s of the P o e t i c Impulse i n Western C i v i l i z a t i o n " . Author: Lee Gidney. Theme : The main theme of my t h e s i s i s that S p e n g l e r i a n a n a l y s i s of western c i v i l i z a t i o n as d e c l i n i n g i s c o r - r e c t , i n that s p e c i f i c a l l y western c u l t u r e and c i v i l i - z a t i o n i s g i v i n g way ,more and more, to a world c u l t u r e - p a t t e r n ; but my t h e s i s d i s a g r e e s with h i s v e r s i o n of the decadence of a l l art-forms today as p a r t of a d e c l i n i n g c u l t u r e , p o s t u l a t i n g r a t h e r t h a t , s p e c i f i c a l l y i n the a r t s of A r c h i t e c t u r e and f i l m , there i s enormous a c t i v i t y of a c r e a t i v e nature. My t h e s i s a l s o q u a r r e l s with Speng- l e r ' s a n a l y s i s of tne r e l a t i o n s e x i s t i n g between the ec- onomic-forms of s o c i e t y and the a r t - o b j e c t s produced by that s o c i e t y . He s t a t e that the economic forms are" the product of the s o u l of the c u l t u r e . I contend that the a r t - p r o d u c t s of the c u l t u r e m i r r o r the m o t i v a t i n g d r i v e s of the economic f o r c e s of the s o c i a l group while i n a s t a t e .of c o n s i d e r a b l e i n t e r a c t i o n w i t h them. 1 have t r i e d to present my t h e s i s , w i t h both p o s i t i o n s c l e a r l y s t a t e d , quoting Spengler at some l e n g t h on the one hand, and Lewis Mumford at an equal l e n g t h on the other, and w i t h a s u p p o r t i n g c i t a t i o n from Kuth .benedict's book, "Patterns of C u l t u r e " on s o c i a l p a t t e r n s of a more p r i m i - t i v e n a t u r e . Arrangement : My t h e s i s i s d i v i d e d i n t o f o u r chapters, the f i r s t s e r v i n g as an i n t r o d u c t i o n to the p o i n t - o f - v i e w and thematic m a t e r i a l of the whole work; the second and t h i r d c o v e r i n g the recorded h i s t o r y of the m o t i v a t i n g d r i v e s of western h i s t o r i c a l periods,drawing from t h i s m a t e r i a l to support my c o n t e n t i o n of the b a s i c r e l a t i o n s h i p e x i s t i n g between the mthods of p r o d u c t i o n i n a s o c i a l group and the a r t - o b j e c t s produced by that group. In the f i n a l chap- t e r , 1 have attempted to sum up the i n f e r e n c e s from the h i s t o r i c a l chapters and to p r e s e n t my t h e s i s and i t s main p o s i t i o n i n some d e t a i l . The P h i l o s o p h i c a l Imi9licati one of The Peetie Impulse i n Western Civilizatien» Table of Contents. Chapter One : I n t r o d u c t o r y O u t l i n e page 1. Chapter Two : The P r e - p e r i o d of Western C u l t u r e . . p . 7. Chapter Three:Western C u l t u r e and C i v i l i z a t i o n , T w e l f t h Century to the Present p.42. Chapter -*bur :The Concept Of A r t i n R e l a t i o n to the Economic Basis: of L i v i n g Examined, and the P o s s i b i l i t y For Free C r e a t i v e Development under the two Economic Forms Current Current Today Assessed p.87. E p i l o g u e : from Edmund Burke ....p.104 Appendix A : B i b l i o g r a p h y p . i - i Appendix B : Chart showing Major Epochs i n Western A r t , from Sheldon Cheyney .....p. i . Chapter One : I n t r e d u c t a r y . - 1 - In t h i s i n t r e d u c t o r y chapter I wish t o d e f i n e , f i r s t , t h e terms and the l i m i t s of my i n v e s t i g a t i o n , and then t© show the p o i n t of view from which I am approaching the whole s u b j e c t of the p o e t i c impulse as i t has expressed i t s e l f i n the works ©f man's hands, and i n the movement of man's mind, i n ©ur western c i v i l i z a t i on. By p o e t i c impulse, I mean the tendency toward c r e a t i n g or making, which i s an e s s e n t i a l i n g r e d i e n t i n the makeup of every persen, v a r y i n g i n i t s degree of development from t h a t of the genius who c r e a t e s g r e a t a r t to t h a t of the o t h e r - a r t i s t who re-makes the work ©f a r t by r e a l i z i n g i t . I t v a r i e s frem the degree of p o e t i c or c r e a t i v e a b i l i t y r e q u i r e d to synthe- s i z e the elements ©f s c i e n t i f i c or a r t i s t i c knowledge and emerge w i t h a new s c i e n t i f i c theory or a new o b j e c t ©f a r t to that l e s s e r »ut s t i l l v i t a l degree of a b i l i t y t© make,and d e s i r e to make well,which i s observable i n any s k i l l e d workman,, I d© not accept i n my meaning of western c i v i l i z a t i e n the minute S p e n g l e r i a n d i s t i n c t i o n of c i v i l i z a t i o n from c u l - t u r e , »ut use r a t h e r a d u a l i t y , combining the twe. For Spengler c u l t u r e i s the g r e a t e t i o l o g i c a l d r i v e producing the a r t , r e l - igion,mathematics, s c i e n c e , and p h i l o s o p h y ©f any p e r i e d , the e x p r e s s i o n of the s o u l ©f the p e r i o d , whereas, f o r him, c i v i l - i z a t i o n i s the r e s i d u a l product of t h i s a c t i v i t y , and e x i s t s only i n a p e r i a d of c u l t u r a l s t e r i l i t y and decadence. For the purposes of t h i s t h e s i s I mean c i v i l i z a t i o n as a combination of these two aspects : as »oth the s u r g i n g c u l t u r a l impulse d i s c e r n i b l e i n d i f f e r e n t stages of development, and the sta»le -2- products of these p e r i o d s as they remain to us • By the p h i l o s o p h i c a l i m p l i c a t i o n s of these p o e t i c ©r c r e - a t i v e a c t i v i t i e s I mean t h e i r s i g n i f i c a n c e i n man*s complete l i v i n g . I wish t o i n t e g r a t e them w i t h the knowledge a v a i l a b l e to us from a s c i e n t i f i c a n a l y s i s of s o c i e t y i n terms of an ec- onomic,political, r e l i g i o u s , l i n g u i s t i c , and i n g e n e r a l , an a n t h r o p o l o g i c a l study ©f c u l t u r e . In t h i s c o n n e c t i o n should »e noted the semantic d i f f i c u l t i e s i n h e r e n t i n a d i s c u s s i o n of a s s t r a c t i o n s such as these human v a l u e s . I want to show t h i s impulse to c r e a t i o n not only i n the v a r i o u s media of a r t - e x p r e s s i o n c u r r e n t i n each p e r i o d , out a l s o i n r e l a t i o n to the whole p h i l o s o p h i c a l ethos of the stage of c u l t u r a l development. Here I w i l l »e , to some extent f o l l o w i n g S p e n g l e r ^ view of a c u l t u r e - p a t t e r n as an e x c l u s i v e whole; so t h a t , though Greek and Roman, e a r l y C h r i s t i a n and Byzantine art-forms are c o n s i d e r e d , t h i s i s done l a r g e l y w i t h a view to showing t h e i r i n f l u e n c e on the l a t e r emerging and t y p i c a l l y western c u l t u r e - p a t t e r n . From these comparative sources I i n t e n d a l s o to draw i n f e r e n c e s u p p o r t i n g my t h e s i s of a newly emerging and t y p i c a l l y world c u l t u r e - p a t t e r n . I understand western c i v i l i z a t i o n as Beginning w i t h the myths,»allads, and f o l k - a r t s and c r a f t s of the n o r t h e r n »ar- toarians of Europe, mixing w i t h the f i x e d l i n g u i s t i c s t r u c t u r e of the L a t i n language, and w i t h the h i g h l y developed system of Roman law, and changing g r a d u a l l y u n t i l i t 'appearB indeed* i n the Gothic c a t h e d r a l s and the more i n d i v i d u a l i z e d a r t of -3- of the l a t e r middle ages, and then f l o w e r s most r i c h l y i n the p e r i o d of Baroque, p e t e r i n g out i n the more s o p h i s t i c a t e d d e c o r a t i v e statement ©f the f o l l o w i n g c e n t u r i e B . Spengler quotes Goethe 1 s "Winckelmann" where he says ©f V e l l e i u s P a t e r c u l u s : "With h i s standpoint i t was not g i v e n him t© see a l l a r t as a l i v i n g t h i n g t h a t must have an inconspicuous "beginning, a slow growth, a torilliant moment of f u l - f i l m e n t , and a g r a d u a l d e c l i n e l i k e every other org- a n i c toeing, though i t i s presented i n a set ©f i n d i v - d u a l s " * 1 . Spengler then goes ©n to use t h i s q u o t a t i o n to develop h i s own theory of culture-development w i t h p a r t i c u l a r a t t e n t i o n to t h a t of the west : •This sentence c o n t a i n s the e n t i r e mophology of a r t - h i s t o r y . S t y l e s do net f o l l o w one another l i k e waves or p u l s e "beats. I t i s not the p e r s o n a l i t y or w i l l or b r a i n of the a r t i s t t h a t makes the s t y l e , tout the s t y l e t h a t makes the type of the a r t i s t . . . I t i s , a s nature i s , a n ever new e x p r e s s i o n of waking man, h i e a l t e r - e g o and mirror-image i n the world around. And t h e r e f o r e i n the g e n e r a l p i c t u r e of a c u l t u r e there can toe tout ©ne s t y l e , the s t y l e of the c u l t u r e . . . . . Gothic and Bareque are simply the youth and age of one and the same v e s s e l of forms, the s t y l e of the west as r i p e n i n g and. ripened...The task b e f o r e a r t - h i s t o r y i s t© w r i t e the comparative b i o g r a p h i e s ©f the g r e a t s t y l e s , a l l of which, as organisms ©f the same genus, possess s t r u c t u r a l l y cognate l i f e h i s t o r - i e s . " 2. Prom t h i s p r e l i m i n a r y statement Spengler proceeds w i t h the stages of c u l t u r e - i e v e l o p m e n t i n the west, c h a r a c t e r i z i n g them i n t h i s way : " ( F i r s t ) the timid,dependent,naked e x p r e s s i o n of a newly awakened s o u l s t i l l seeking the r e l a t i o n between i t s e l f and the world,presented as a l i e n and u n f r i e n d - l y ; examples toeing e a r l y C h r i s t i a n catacomb p a i n t i n g s ; (second; the February of the a r t s , a presentiment ef coming wealth of f©rms l i e s over the landscape...; ( t h i r d ) then f o l l o w s the joyous mounting int© the h i g h G o t h i c . Being i s understood-A sacred form-language has 1*2,' " been completely mastered and r a d i a t e s i t B g l o r y ; ( f o u r t h ) S p e n g l e r * " D e c l i n e of the West",pps. 2 0 5 - 6 , v o l . 1 . - 4 - then f e r v e n t " y o u t h comes to an end, and con- t r a d i c t i o n s a r i s e : the Renaissance i n d i c a t e s a moment of r e s i s t a n c e ( i n i t s r e t u r n to Greek i n f l u e n c e ) ; ( f i f t h ) the manhood of the s t y l e - h i s t o r y : the c u l t u r e i s changing i n t o the i n - t e l l e c t u a l i t y of the g r e a t c i t i e s t h a t w i l l now dominate the c o u n t r y s i d e ; the s t y l e i s "becoming i n t e l l e c t u a l i z e d also...The a r t i s t appears and p l a n s what f o r m e r l y grew out of the s o i l , as at the beginning of Baroque w i t h Michelangelo; ( s i x t h ) then comes the gleaming autumn of the s t y l e : once more the s o u l de- p i c t s i t s h a p p i n e s s , t h i s time conscious of s e l f - c o m p l e t i o n ; ( s e v e n t h ) then the s t y l e fades out: the form-language of the Dresden Zwinger,honey-combed w i t h i n t e l l e c t , f r a g i l e , i s f o l l o w e d by the s e n i l e c l a s s i c i s m of the Empire modes. The end i s a sunset r e f l e c t e d i n forms r e v i v e d f o r a moment »y pedant and e c l e c t i c : semi-earnestness and d o u b t f u l gen- uineness dominate the world of a r t . We today are i n t h i s c o n d i t i o n - p l a y i n g a t e d i o u s gome w i t h dead forms, to keep up the i l l u s i o n of a l i v i n g a r t . " 3. While a c c e p t i n g the genuine i n s i g h t shown by Spengler i n h i s culture-comparisons, i t i s s t i l l p o s s i b l e to q u a r r e l w i t h h i s t h e s i s . I cannot accept the m y s t i c a l b a s i s of h i s thought and language, not h i s analogy of c u l t u r a l w i t h animal organisms. I do f i n d the e r u d i t e comparisons of culture-patterns very i l l u m i n a t i n g and suggestive of the more b a s i c a l l y e f f e c t i v e f a c t o r s which he n e g l e c t s . But on the b a s i s of these more f i - n a l l y a n a l y t i c a l f a c t o r s I cannot accept h i s t h e s i s of the present d e c l i n e of a r t . I t h i n k a good case can be presented d e s c r i b i n g the present as a p e r i o d of m e g a l o p o l i t a n decadence, but I t h i n k such a case would be l a r g e l y one s u r v e y i n g the s u p e r s t r u c t u r e of c u l t u r e , r a t h e r than i t B more fundamental c u l t u r a l v a l u e s . The a n a l y s i s of Marx and Engels shows the dependence of these 3.Spengler, o p . c i t . , pps. 206-7, v o l . 1 . -5- v a l u e s on the b a s i c economic aspect of s o c i e t y . I do not t h i n k that the acceptance of s u r f a c e v a l u e s w i l l h o l d i n the face of t h i s c l e a r l y r a t i o n a l , non-mystical l i g h t . I wish to c h a l l e n g e Spengler's a n a l y s i s however, more on h i s own ground, as being f a l l a c i o u s h i s t o r i c a l l y . I am w i l l i n g to accept h i s s u r p r i s i n g l y acute i n t u i t i v e grasp of the slow be- g i n n i n g , g r a d u a l development, and slow d e c l i n e of a l l separate c u l t u r e - p a t t e r n s , i n c l u d i n g that of the west, b u t l l see:''.--*: a t the same time through the course of. h i s t o r y a slow growth i n the r e s i d u a l a c c r e t i o n s of c i v i l i z a t i o n r e s u l t i n g from these . I t seems to me;,too, that , w i t h the r i s e of i n d u s t r i a l i z e d l i v i n g , the v e r y changes i n method have produced -a p h i l o s o p h i - c a l change, and t h a t i n s t e a d of being at the d e c l i n i n g end of western c u l t u r e , we are a t the present going through the e a r l y mythic stages of a new world c u l t u r e , w i t h i t s a r t s t y p i c a l l y e x p r e s s i v e of folk-ways shown i n the cinema and the r a d i o , and w i t h the p e r i o d of beginnings, g r a d u a l l y being r e p l a c e d by more conscious i n d i v i d u a l e x p r e s s i o n w i t h i n a l l the art-forms of t h i s world c u l t u r e - p a t t e r n . The products of the t y p i c a l mass-production me t h od of t h i s new w o r l d - s o c i e t y can be so d i s t r i b u t e d to make p o s s i b l e f o r the f i r s t time i n the world's h i s t o r y a good l i f e f o r every member of the community, thus c r e a t i n g an enormous market f o r the a r t - products a l s o . The interdependence of trade and communications b r i n g a l l the p a r t s of that world s o c i e t y so c l o s e together, that along w i t h the t h r e a t of a war so d i s a s t r o u s as to a n n h i l - ate a l l human c u l t u r e , we can see the hope of a p e a c e f u l - 6 - arid c o o p e r a t i v e world c r o s s f e r t i l i z e d i n i t s a r t - f o r m s "by im- p u l s e s and knowledge from every p a r t of i t s l a r g e s o c i e t y , I wish to end my survey, i n i t s l a s t c h a p t e r , w i t h an ex- amination of the p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r the f u l l development of t h i s world c u l t u r e - p a t t e r n , whose most unusual a r t - f o r m ( t y p i c a l of the m e t h o d o l o g i c a l changes i n ecoBomic p r o d u c t i o n ) w i l l l i e the e n r i c h e d l i f e of man. I would l i k e to attempt an assessment of the p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r t h i s f u l l development of the p o e t i c impulse i n man under the twer i d e o l o g i e s of world importance to- day : t h a t of C a p i t a l i s m , and t h a t of S o c i a l i s m ; or more accur- a t e l y , s o c i a l p a t t e r n s of a c o m p e t i t i v e type, and those of a c o o p e r a t i v e type, to see to what extent these provide a m a t r i x i n which the f u l l e s t p h i l o s o p h i c a l i m p l i c a t i o n s of man's c r e a t i v e impulse may tee r e a l i z e d . Chapter Twe : The P r e - P e r i o d Of Western C u l t u r e . The e a r l y p r e - p e r i o d ©f western c u l t u r e begins w i t h the a r r i v a l of the Greeks from the n o r t h e r n p a r t s of Europe, t h e i r s e t t l i n g .along the Aegean Sea, and t h e i r a b s o r p t i o n of an a l r e a d y e x i s t e n t Cretan c u l t u r e . - Cretan,or M i n o a n , c i v i l i z a t i o n , as i t i s u s u a l l y c a l l e d , l a s t e d from 3400 B.C. to 1200 B.C. There are three general, d i v i s i o n s f o r t h i s long p e r i o d , based on a r c h a e o l o g i c a l f i n d i n g s : the e a l y Minoan ( 3400-2100 B.C.) which began w i t h the f i n d i n g of copper and ended w i t h the i n t r o d u c t i o n of bronze; the mid- d l e Minoan p e r i o d (2100-1600 B.C.) which was a p e r i o d ©f enor- mous a r t i s t i c p r o d u c t i o n witnessed to by the d i s c o v e r i e s among the r u i n s of Knossos - d e l i c a t e Kamares ware i n p o t t e r y , mod- ern seeming a r c h i t e c t u r e , a p i c t u r e - w r i t i n g of one hundred con- v e n t i o n a l i z e d s i g n s l e f t i n records of government and b u s i n e s s a d m i n i s t r a t i o n ; the l a t e Minoan(l600-1200B.C.) which saw the h i g h e s t p o i n t of advance and saw a l s o i t s i n c i p i e n t stages of d e c l i n e , brought on p a r t l y i t i s thought by the unwarlike na- t u r e of the people who were no match f o r the i n v a d i n g Greeks. However, b e f o r e i t s d e c l i n e , the i n f l u e n c e of Cretan c i v - i l i z a t i o n had spread n o r t h i n t o Greece as f a r as Macedonia. The c i t i e s of Myceae and T i r y n s were s t i l l producing,as l a t e as 900 B . C . , a r t - o b j e c t s of Cretan i n s p i r a t i o n , and were f o r a l o n g time the centre of a g r a d u a l l y d e c l i n i n g Minoan-Mycenean c u l t u r e . The e a r l i e s t Greeks came down i n t o what i s now Greece as b a r b a r i a n conquerors, i n what i s accepted by many a u t h o r i t i e s as three d i s t i n g u i s h a b l e waves of a r r i v a l , f i r s t the Ionians, then t h e Aehaeans.and l a s t of a l l the D o r i a n s . The Ionians,though -9- conquerors of Crete seem to have adopted i t s c i v i l i z a t i o n , j u s t as the l a t e r conqueror of Greece, Rape, adopted t h a t of the Greeks. But the Ienians were i n t u r n d i s t u r b e d by the next wave of i n v a s i o n by the Achaeans, who are known, from H i t t i t e t a b l e s found at Boghaz-Keui, t o have had a l a r g e and c l o s e l y organized empire i n the f o u r t e e n t h century B.C. The l a s t a r r i v i n g wave, that of the Dorians, p r a c t i c a l l y wiped out the remnants of Myeen- ean c i v i l i z a t i o n , weakened^ as i t a l r e a d y e s s e n t i a l l y was by the wars between the Ionians and Achaeans. By 900 B.C. the e a r l y Greeks had a c q u i r e d the alphabet from the P h o e n i c i a n s w i t h whom they traded, and had reduced to w r i t i n g t h e i r own spoken language. Homer,(d.c.800B.C) wrote the "Odyssey" and the " I l i a d " i n t h i s language, t e l l i n g the legends remaining from the e a r l y Mycenean p e r i o d , which was a l r e a d y m i s t y f o r him. The s e i g e of Troy i s the s t o r y - c o r e of Homer's books, and Troy i s known to have been destroyed i n 1200 B.C. The e p i c p o e t r y contained i n these books was w r i t t e n f o r . a s t i l l f i g h t i n g a r i s t o c r a c y of Kings, c o u n c i l l o r s , and fighting-men, as l a t e r , i n an e q u i v a l e n t p e r i o d of development England pro- duced "Beowulf", Prance the "Chanson de Roland", and Germany the "Nietoelungenlied". With Hesiod's p o e t r y (d.c.750-700 B.C.) a l r e a d y a change has taken p l a c e . H i s work, comprising the "Works and Days" and a "Theogony" t e l l s - r a t h e r of the o r d i n a r y l i f e of t o i l and r e l i g - ious d e v o t i o n , of the peasant farmers of an a g r i c u l t u r a l s o c i e t y . In these e a r l y s t o r i e s of Greek mythology can be p e r c e i v e d the e s s e n t i a l a t t i t u d e toward l i f e of the Greek c i t i z e n of t h i s c o l l - -10- e c t i o n of c i t y - s t a t e s , and of Greek c u l t u r e i n g e n e r a l . Even thus e a r l y , they were a l r e a d y a c c e p t i n g t h e i r gods as s i m i l a r t o men, not a l i e n beings, only s t r o n g e r and f a i r e r and b r a v e r than men, embodying thus i n the honour they p a i d them what has come to be accepted as the t y p i c a l a t t i t u d e of t h e i r c i v i l i z a ti. on. The t r i b a l community whese b a t t l e s were recorded i n Ho- mer's w r i t i n g s was f o l l o w e d by three f u r t h e r stages i n the dev- elopment of the e i t y - s t a t e : a p e r i o d of ascendancy by the noblest or o l i g a r c h y .wherin the kings were d e p r i v e d of t h e i r power; an- other p e r i o d of s t r u g g l e between c i t i z e n s and nobles d u r i n g which t y r a n t s rose as champions of the c i t i z e n s ' r i g h t s ; and a f i n a l stage marked by the emergence of a democratic government i n c l u d i n g a l l c i t i z e n s . Sparta and Athens are the two most fam- ous examples of t h i s process of development, and c e r t a i n c u r i o u s comparisons can be made between the a r t - p r o d u c t s of the two i n terms of the d i f f e r e n c e s known to have e x i s t e d i n t h e i r s o c i a l o r g a n i z a t i o n s . The word "Spartan* remaining to us today proper- l y d e s c r i b e s the atmosphere of r i g o r o u s d i s c i p l i n e , which made t h e i r s almost an armed-camp or p o l i c e - s t a t e i n form and atmos- phere, and l e f t them non-productive i n an a r t i s t i c or p h i l o - sophic sense. By 500 B.C. the Athenian c i t y - s t a t e had been r e - o r g a n i z e d by the s u c c e s s i v e reforms of Draco, Solon, and Cleisthenes, i n t o one i n which every c i t i z e n had a stake, t a k i n g an a c t i v e i n t e r - est i n a l l aspects of p u b l i c l i f e , p o l i t i c s , r e l i g i o n , i n d u s t r y and commerce, s c i e n c e and a r t . These shared i n t e r e s t s gave them -11- an i n t e n s e l o c a l p a t r i o t i s m , shown i n Aeschylus* p l a y "The Per- s i a n s " where the greeks e x u l t over the d e f e a t of the huge Per- s i a n f l e e t at Salamis, 480 B.C. , which was made p o s s i b l e by the e n t h u s i a s t i c support g i v e n by the members of the c i t y - s t a t e s . P i v e of these c i t y - s t a t e s were members of the D e l i a n Con- f e d e r a c y along w i t h some i s l a n d s and Athens i t s e l f . Por these member s t a t e s , A t t i c a , B e o t i a , Thessaly, A r g o l i s , and Achaia, the g e n e r a l charge of f o r e i g n or e x t e r n a l a f f a i r s was borne by Athens, which a l s o gave a f r e s h impetus to every branch of t h e i r community l i v i n g ; the freedom and p e r s o n a l stake i n the p o l i s or c i t y - s t a t e generated a g r e a t Athenian f l o w e r i n g i n poetry,educ- a t i o n , d r a m a , h i s t o r i c a l l i t e r a t u r e , o r a t o r y , the p l a s t i c a r t s , s c i e n c e and p h i l o s o p h y . Succeeding the e p i c genius of Homer and the homely s t o r - i e s of E e s i o d came a new l y r i c poetry, r e c i t e d i n the homes of the now a f f l u e n t c i t i e s to the accompaniment of the s e v e n r s t r i n g ed l y r e , and t a k i n g on many d i f f e r e n t forms as i t was used f o r d i f f e r e n t purposes : the elegy or lament, the p e r s o n a l l y r i c of Sappho of Lesbos, the c h o r a l l y r i c of the Dorians, the d r i n k i n g songs made famous by Anacreon of Teos.... "When.I d r i n k wine A god doth s t r a i g h t b e g i n To warm my s o u l w i t h i n . . . " and P i n d a r ' s odes of v i c t o r y c e l e b r a t i n g the Olympic games and other c o n t e s t s . Greek education expressed a c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a t t i t u d e i n aiming at the p r o d u c t i o n of i n t e l l i g e n t human beings r a t h e r than at g i v i n g mere v o c a t i o n a l p r e p a r a t i o n f o r e a r n i n g a l i v i n g . -12- T h i s i s evidenced by the c a r e f u l guidance and p l a n n i n g f o r the education of the c i t i z e n s i n P l a t o ' s d e s c r i p t i o n of h i s i d e a l "Republic". The s i x t h century B.C. a l s o saw the beginnings of Greek drama, w i t h the peasants' songs and p r o c e s s i o n s of l e a d e r and chorus, i n honour of the god of v e g e t a t i o n and l i f e , D i o n y s i u s . These f e s t i v a l s were i n t r o d u c e d i n t o Athens under Cleisthenes,and there were given a more formal sequence, g r a d u a l l y d e v e l o p i n g in- to the t r a g i c drama of Aeschylus, the f i r s t of the g r e a t t r a g i c poets, who- i n t r o d u c e d a second a c t o r i n a d d i t i o n to the l e a d e r and the chorus. The Greek b e l i e f i n law and order and the i d e a of j u s t i c e permeates h i s p l a y s . With Sophocles (d.406 B.C.) the i n t r o d u c t i o n of a t h i r d a c t o r to support the burden of the p l a y takes p l a c e , and he, though s t i l l b e l i e v i n g i n d i v i n e order, be- g i n s to r e j e c t the i d e a of i n e x o r a b l e f a t e . H i s "Oedipus Rex" (or "Tyrannus") i s u s u a l l y accepted as the most p e r f e c t of Greek t r a g e d i e s . E u r i p i d e s used a l e s s e p i c s t y l e than Aeschylus or Sophocles, and t r e a t e d h i s c h a r a c t e r s as human beings i n the c h a o t i c t a n g l e s of human emotions, though s t i l l u s i n g mytholog- i c a l t a l e s as p l o t or substance. "Medea", "Iphegenia", ate s t i l l played today, and s t i l l meaningful as s t o r i e s of human emotion, and E u r i p i d e s ' i n f l u e n c e through the d e r i v a t i v e Roman d r a m a t i s t , Seneca, reached the E l i z a b e t h a n t h e a t r e . Comedy developed from the l e s s formal and l e s s i n h i b i t e d aspect of the D i o n y s i a n f e s t i v a l s . Aristophanes(d.ca.385 B.C.) shows h i s comic v e i n and s c e p t i c a l s p i r i t i n h i s s a t i r i c p l a y s , "Clouds", "Frogs","Birds","Wasps", and i n h i s treatment of the -13- wars between the d i f f e r e n t Greek c i t y - s t a t e s i n such p l a y s as "The Acharnians" and " L y s i s t r a t a " . The h i s t o r i c a l w r i t i n g s of Herodotus (d.424-5 B.C.) are r a t h e r the r e c o r d of what happened to i n t e r e s t orP b r i g h t man than the s c i e n t i f i c a n a l y s i s of c u r r e n t h i s t o r y w r i t t e n by the l a t e r Thucjdides (d.ca.400 B.C.) i n h i s book "The Peloponnesian War". His account was continued to 362 B.C. by Zenophon i n h i s " H e l l e n - i c a " . Zenophon (d.355 B.C.) a l s o wrote the " A n a b a s i s " , t e l l i n g the s t o r y of the march of. the 10,000 Greeks who went i n 400 B.c w i t h Cyrus the Younger to h e l p him take the P e r s i a n throne from h i s b r o t h e r ; and a l s o the"Memorabilia", i n which are contained h i s r e f l e c t i o n s and h i s memories of S o c r a t e s . The i n c l u s i o n of the whole body of c i t i z e n s i n govern- ment made n e c e s s a r y an a r t of a d d r e s s i n g and persuading them on important i s s u e s , as e x h i b i t e d by such famous o r a t o r s as Per- i c l e s , Themistocles, Demosthenes. Demosthenes(d.322 B.C.) was ah e s p e c i a l l y powerful emotional speaker from whose speeches a g a i n s t P h i l i p of Maeedon -the-word ' p h i l i p p i c ' has-come down to us* The c i v i c nature of Greek a r t i s admirably demonstrated by t h e i r a r c h i t e c t u r e and s c u l p t u r e which reach t h e i r h i g h e s t e x p r e s s i o n i n the temples, which were the c i v i c as w e l l as r e l - i g i o u s core of the c i t y l i f e . By a process of c r e a t i v e t r i a l and e r r o r they a r r i v e d at such i d e a l l y harmonious p r o p o r t i o n s that western a r c h i t e c t u r e i s s t i l l copying them today i n s t e a d of a t - ^tempting t h e i r brave l a b o u r and producing our own e q u i v a l e n t l y b e a u t i f u l and harmonious e x p r e s s i o n . -14- The core of the s t r u c t u r e of the Greek temple was the c e l l a , a small f o u r - w a l l e d room f o r the statue of the l o c a l god, (Artemis f o r Ephesus, Athena f o r Athens) and entered from the pronaos or v e s t i b u l e . •'. The l a r g e r temples had columns to support the low-pitched gable roof, and the c e l l a became an i n - ner room hidden by t h e i r t r u n k s . Some of the temples had c o l - umns only a c r o s s the f r o n t (the p r o s t y l e ) , some a c r o s s the f r o n t and back(the a m p h i p r o s t y l e ) , and some on a l l f o u r s i d e s (the p e r i s t y l a r ) . I t was the e n t a b l a t u r e of the temple however which gave the g r e a t e s t chance f o r v a r i e t y i n the manner of treatment. T h i s was the temple facade composed of the a r c h i t r a v e or heavy c r o s s - beams, the d e c o r a t i v e band c a l l e d the f r i e z e , and the moulded c o r n i c e s . The gable ends of the roof formed a t r i a n g l e which was c a l l e d the pediment, and which was used by the g r e a t a r t i s t s of s c u l p t u r e f o r enriched d e c o r a t i o n . There are t h r e e u s u a l l y accepted d i v i s i o n s or s t y l e s of c l a s s i f y i n g these temples, the D o r i c , I o n i c , and C o r i n t h i a n , from t h e i r p l a c e s of o r i g i n . In the e a r l y D o r i c which i s the s i m p l e s t the columns are p l a i n heavy s h a f t s r i s i n g from the temple base d i r e c t l y , and surmounted by a c a p i t a l of a rounded band and a square b l o c k c a l l e d the abacus; the o r i g i n a l wooden roof cone r s t r u c t i o n was perpetuated i n stone; that i s , stone r a f t e r ends c a l l e d t r i g l y p h s were added, and these arid the spaces between c a l l e d the metopes were c o n v e n t i o n a l i z e d in''• treatment, the whole e f f e c t b e i n g r e s t r a i n e d and severe. "By the c l o s e of the 5th century B.C. the more g r a c e f u l I o n i c was D e c e r n i n g the pre- v a i l i n g s t y l e . I o n i c columns are u s u a l l y t a l l e r , f l u t e d , and s l e n d e r e r , and the c a p i t a l s more e l a b o r a t e . The c a p i t a l was com- posed of a p i l l o w b l o c k carved i n a double v o l u t e , a p a r t i c u - l a r l y g r a c e f u l form. The e n t a b l a t u r e above iB o f t e n broken by h o r i z o n t a l l i n e s ; the f r i e z e becomes a f l a t s u r f a c e devoted to the low r e l i e f s of the s c u l p t o r . The Cor i n t h i a n i s an e l a b o r a t - i o n of the I o n i c . The columns are s t i l l t a l l e r , and more f l u t e d the m o d i f i e d I o n i c c a p i t a l i s more o r n a t e l y decorated. The p r i n - c i p l e of e n t a s i s was used i n a l l of these forms to curve s u b t l y the v e r t i c a l l i n e s of the columns and the l o n g s t r a i g h t l i n e s of the bases of the temples, wherever the eye might imagine a sag. The s t i f f l y a r c h a i c s c u l p t u r a l d e c o r a t i o n s were very g r a d u a l l y b e g i n n i n g to change. By the 5th century B.C. there ap- peared the f i r s t of the g r e a t s c u l p t o r s , Myron of Athens, the c r e a t o r of the bronze " D i s c o b o l u s " ; among h i s s u c c e s s o r s were P o l y c l e t u s of Argos (the bronze "Doryphorus* or s p e a r b e a r e r ) , a n d P h i d i a s , the g r e a t e s t of them a l l . They are represented to- day c h i e f l y by poor contemporary c o p i e s of t h e i r best work, but s t i l l a v a i l a b l e are some important fragments. Among these i s the work of P h i d i a s on the pediments of the Parthenon ( r e p r e s e n t i n g on the east end the b i r t h of the goddess Athena, a n d on the west end the s t r u g g l e of Athena w i t h Poseidon f o r the p o s s e s s i o n of A t t i c a ) and h i s enormous f r i e z e around the c e l l a , 522. f e e t long, showing the Panathenaic f e s t i v a l and. i n c l u d i n g over 300 f i g u r e s , some of which were d o u b t l e s s executed under h i s super- v i s i o n . -16- A f t e r P h i d i a s , P r a x i t e l e s i s the accepted model of Greek e x c e l l e n c e i n s c u l p t u r e . H i s *Hermesw unearthed at Olympia i n 1877 i s m u t i l a t e d hut the head, trunk, and t h i g h s are i n t a c t and show h i s m a s t e r l y a b i l i t y . Greek p a i n t i n g has s u f f e r e d even more than Greek s c u l p - ture from the passage of time, and i s known today c h i e f l y through the vase p a i n t i n g s , which were presumably done r a t h e r by c r a f t s - men than the great a r t i s t s of the medium such as Polygnotus, A p o l l o n i u s of Athens, Zeuxis, and P a r r h e s i u s . The P e r i c l e a n age brought enormous developments i n tech- n i c a l a b i l i t y and v i r t u o s i t y of e x p r e s s i o n i n a l l branches of a r t i s t i c - c i v i l a c t i v i t y . The b u i l d i n g of the Parthenon, a p e r i s - t y l a r D o r i c temple 101 f t . by 228 f t . b u i l t by I c t i n i u s and G a l - l i c r a t e s , the adornment of the whole A c r o p o l i s w i t h the s c u l p t u r e of such a r t i s t s as P h i d i a s , the drama of Sophocles and E u r i p i d e s , the h i s t o r i c a l analyses of Thucydides, a l l express the g r e a t per- i o d of Athenian economic and p o l i t i c a l development. In P h i l o s o p h y the Greeks began by a n a l y s i n g r e a l i t y and the nature of r e a l i t y without recourse to r e v e l a t i o n as explan- a t i o n , t h e i r f i r s t major q u e s t i o n being about the substance of the world, i n which they p o s i t e d d i f f e r e n t t h e o r i e s : Thales s t a t i n g the prime substance to be water; H e r a c l e i t O B s t r e s s i n g the f l u x - l i k e nature of r e a l i t y ; while t h e i r second major ques- t i o n was that of order, or c a u s a l i t y , f i r s t s t a t e d by Anaximan- d e r . Of t h i s i d e a R u s s e l l says : "There i s a k i n d of n e c e s s i t y or n a t u r a l law which per- p e t u a l l y r e d r e s s e s the balance; where there has been f i r e f o r example, there are ashes, which are e a r t h . T h i s con- -17- c e p t i o n of j u s t i c e - of not overstepping e t e r n a l l y f i x e d bounds - was one of the most profound of Greek b e l i e f s . The gods were s u b j e c t to j u s t i c e j u s t , as much as men were, but t h i s supreme power was not i t s e l f p e r s o n a l , and was not a supreme god." 4. The r i c h f l o w e r i n g of the P e r i c l e a n p e r i o d saw, i n P h i l - osophy, the q u e s t i o n i n g s p i r i t of Socrates, whose d i s c i p l e was P l a t o . But the Athenians e a g e r l y r e c e i v e d a l s o teachers from outside t h e i r c i t y ; indeed i n P l a t o ' s d i a l o g u e , "Protagoras*, Socrates w i t t i l y s a t i r i z e s the eagerness of the young d i s c i p l e s l i s t e n i n g so a r d e n t l y to the v i s i t i n g Sophist teacher. ' P e r i - c l e s i n v i t e d as a v i s i t o r to Athens the p h i l o s o p h e r Anaxagoras from whom Socrates, i n the P l a t o n i c d i a l o g u e s , says that he f i r s t l e a r n e d of the pre-eminent importance of mind,(nous), i n c r e a - t i o n . In the work o,f P l a t o , e s p e c i a l l y i n h i s "Republic", Book Ten, the p l a c e of a r t i n r e l a t i o n , to the s t a t e was s t a t e d i n one of i t s s t i l l e x i s t i n g forms - the u s e f u l n e s s of a r t as pro- paganda f o r a c e r t a i n type.of s o c i a l order, and f o r the educ- a t i o n and guidance of the d e s i r e d type of c i t i z e n . Whereas Ar- i s t o t l e , i n h i s " P o e t i c s " , concentrated r a t h e r on the c r a f t as- pect of 'making' i n a r t . He uses as h i s fundamental premis that a l l a r t i s i m i t a t i v e i n c h a r a c t e r , the i m i t a t i o n being based i n p h y s i o l o g i c rythms, and on what he thought of as an ' i n s t i n c t ' f o r i m i t a t i o n i n man. R u s s e l l sums up Greek achievement of genius i n these words : "What they achieved i n a r t and l i t e r a t u r e i s f a m i l i a r to everybody, but what they d i d i n the p u r e l y i n t e l l e c t - u a l realms i s even more e x c e p t i o n a l . They invented math- ematics, and science,and philosophy; they f i r s t wrote h i s - t o r y as opposed to mere annals; they s p e c u l a t e d f r e e l y about the nature of the world and the ends of l i f e , with- 4 . R u s s e l l , B e r t r a n d : "A H i s t o r y of Western Philosophy",New York, Simon & Schuster,1945;pps. 24,27. -18- out b e i n g bound i n the f e t t e r s of any orthodoxy... A r i t h m e t i c and some Geometry e x i s t e d among the E- g y p t i a n s and Babylonians, but mainly i n the form of r u l e s of thumb. Deductive reasoning from g e n e r a l premisses was a Greek invention...They has a maxim, •nothing too much', but they were i n f a c t e x c e s s i v e i n e v e r y t h i n g - i n pure thought, i n poetry, i n r e l - i g i o n , and i n s i n . I t was the combination of p a s s i o n and i n t e l l e c t t h a t made them g r e a t . N e i t h e r alone would have transformed the world f o r a l l f u t u r e time as they transformed i t . T h e i r prototype i n mythol- ogy i s not Olympian Zeus, but Prometheus, who brought f i r e from heaven and was rewarded w i t h et- e r n a l torment. I f taken of the Greeks as a whole, however, what has j u s t been s a i d would be as one-sided as the view that the Greeks were c h a r a c t e r i z e d by 'ser- e n i t y * . There were i n f a c t two tendencies i n Greece, one p a s s i o n a t e , r e l i g i o u s , m y s t i c a l , o t h e r - w o r l d l y ; the other c h e e r f u l , e m p i r i c a l , r a t i o n a l - i s t i c , and i n t e r e s t e d i n a c q u i r i n g knowledge of a d i v e r s i t y of f a c t s . * 5. H e l l e n i s t i c c i v i l i z a t i o n begins when the g r e a t p e r i o d of Greek p h i l o s o p h y and a r t had begun to p e t e r out, when the Greek p l a s t i c a r t s had s l o w l y developed i n t o the r i c h n e s s of P h i d i a s and then begun to d e t e r i o r a t e i n t o the o v e r - d e c o r a t i v e , exem- p l i f i e d i n t h i s new p e r i o d by the s c u l p t u r e group, *,Laoco0nM. H e l l e n i s t i c a r t and c i v i l i z a t i o n i n g e n e r a l r e a l l y be- g i n s w i t h the conquests of Alexander of Macedon, who s u b j e c t e d the s t a t e s n e i g h b o r i n g , and i t extends to the time when these t e r r i t o r i e s and a l l his,empire were absorbed by the Roman Empire, 146, B.C. The f r e e democratic l i f e of the c i t y - s t a t e was over, even d u r i n g the time when P l a t o and A r i s t o t l e were a n a l y s i n g i t s s t r u c t u r e and v a l u e . Replaced by the empire of Alexander the emphasis of v a l u e s s h i f t e d from the p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the l i f e of the p o l i s , to the more i n d i v i d u a l value of the S t o i c 5 . R u s s e l l , op. c i t . , p p S . 3 , 2 1 . -19- and Epicurean philosophy, r e t i r i n g . a s they were from the hur- l y - b u r l y of c i v i c l i f e to t h e " i v o r y tower" a t t i t u a e n o t i c e a b l e at other s i m i l a r p e r i o d s i n the development of other c u l t u r e s . However, d u r i n g t h i s p e r i o d , one p o s i t i v e r e s u l t was that of the spread of the a l r e a d y e x i s t i n g Greek c u l t u r e f a r beyond the few c i t y - s t a t e s of the Greek p e n i n s u l a as f a r as A s i a Minor, the T i g r i s - E u p h r a t e s v a l l e y , Egypt, and f i n a l l y to the new s t a t e of Rome then r i s i n g i n the west. T h i s spread forms a l i n k between the c l a s s i c a l c u l t u r e of Greece and Rome. T h i s was a p e r i o d of development i n mathematics and mech- a n i c s r a t h e r than i n 1 a r t ' , producing as i t d i d E u c l i d ' s t h i r - teen books of "Elements", A p o l l o n i u s of Perga's work on c o n i c s e c t i o n s , and the work of Archimedes of Syracuse who demonstra- ted the laws governing the a c t i o n of the l e v e r and d i s c o v e r e d , what came to be known,in h y d r o s t a t i c s , as the "Archimedean p r i n c i p l e " , t h a t a s o l i d body immersed i n a f l u i d becomes l i g h t - er i n p r o p o r t i o n to the weight i t d i s p l a c e s i n the water. The a r t s i n the H e l l e n i s t i c p e r i o d had very d i f f e r e n t p o i n t s of emphasis to that of the e a r l i e r and r i c h e r p e r i o d of Greek a r t . They were more exaggeratedly d e c o r a t i v e i n concep- t i o n and execution, as i s shown i n the p r e v i o u s l y mentioned "La- ocoon" group, as i n tne Colossus of Rhodes, the Nike of Samo- thrace", the Venus of M i l o , and i n the Pergamese groups, "Dy- i n g Gaul" and "Gaul S l a y i n g Wife and S e l f " , commemorating the i n v a s i o n of Thrace and A s i a Minor by the Gauls, 279-8 B.C., when tney were defeated by K i n g A t a l u s of Pergamum. . i s Other Pergamene art'shown i n the remains of the temple a t -20- Pergamum, excavated i n 1878 & 86 and now i n the B e r l i n Museum, and i n t h e i r o v e r - l i f e - s i z e d f i g u r e s which i n f l u e n c e d the s c u l p - t o r s of Rhodes. H e l l e n i s t i c a r c h i t e c t s used the true a r c h ( with key- stone) and spread abroad over the then known world the charming Greek p r i v a t e d w e l l i n g s which they copied, u s i n g th&r c e n t r a l court open to the sky surrounded by a colonnaded porch from which rooms opened. The new c i t i e s of the time were adorned with c o s t l y temples, baths,and l i b r a r i e s l i k e the one a t A l e x a n d r i a , and t h e a t r e s i n which were performed the comedies of Menander, a w r i t e r who i n f l u e n c e d the l a t e r Romans, Terrence and P l a u t u s . Menander l o v e d , and wrote about, the l i f e of the H e l l e n i s t i c c i t y f o r i t s s o p h i s t i c a t e d i n h a b i t a n t s , w h i l e T h e o c r i t u s wrote, f o r those who were bored w i t h t h i s , a new p a s t o r a l poetry, and the h i s t o r i a n Polybius of M e g a l o p o l i s wrote the " H i s t o r i e s 1 ' , t r a c - i n g the s t o r y of the Roman conquest from the C a r t h a g i n i a n war to the f a l l of C o r i n t h i n 146 B.C. As we t u r n to the f i n a l phase of c l a s s i c a l c u l t u r e , w i t h t h e p e r i o d of Roman dominance, we can bear i n mind what has been s a i d of i t by Jose Ortega y Gasset..."The Romans are the only people whose e n t i r e s c r o l l of l i f e can be u n r o l l e d before our eyes. With others the p i c t u r e i s fragmentary. E i t h e r we cannot see them born, or we have not seen them d i e . . . " I t i s true of Roman c i v i l i z a t i o n that we know i t s r o o t s i n Greece, and i n H e l l e n i s t i c t r a n s i t i o n a l c u l t u r e , that we have f u l l r e c o r d s i n f a m i l i a r L a t i n of t h e i r a c t i v e c o n t r i b u t i o n s to law and a d m i n i s t r a t i o n and language, and that we have records of -21- the processes accompanying t h e i r d i s i n t e g r a t i o n . From t h i s doc- umented h i s t o r y of t h e i r decadence we can t h e r e f o r e make c e r t a i n deductions about our own somewhat s i m i l a r p e r i o d , w i t h a dying and a b e g i n n i n g c u l t u r e i n e x t r i c a b l y j o i n e d ; and c e r t a i n con- c l u s i o n s s u p p o r t i n g my t h e s i s w i l l be made as we go on. How Rome s u b j e c t e d the v a r i o u s peoples s e t t l e d i n the I t a l i a n p e n i n s u l a - I t a l i a n s , C a r t h a g i n i a n s , E t r u s c a n s , Greeks, C e l t s - and a p p r o p r i a t e d t h e i r c i v i l i z a t i o n , i n t e n s i f y i n g and extending i t , becoming the c e n t r e of a wide c u l t u r a l d i f f u s i o n the i n f l u e n c e of which has' l e f t t r a c e s to t h i s day, i s one of the great s t o r i e s of h i s t o r y . Having a p p r o p r i a t e d the I t a l i a n p e n i n s u l a , destroyed Carthage i n the C a r t h a g i n i a n wars, and turned to the east, Rome proceeded to slowly absorb i t w i t h i n the boundaries of a mighty empire : C o r i n t h (146 B.C.), Greece i t s e l f , Macedonia, Pergamum, S y r i a , and f i n a l l y Egypt (30 B.C.). In the n o r t h Gaul was con- quered by J u l i u s Caesar (58-49 B.C.), g a i n i n g as f a r n o r t h as B r i t a i n (56-55 B.C.). Roman l i t e r a t u r e , l i k e Roman c u l t u r e g e n e r a l l y , began w i t h borrowings from the Greek, but had produced by the time of P l a u t u s (d.184 B.C.) and Terence (d.159 B.C.) comedies of n a t i v e , a b i l i t y which c e n t u r i e s l a t e r i n f l u e n c e d Shakespeare, M o l i e r e , and the commedia d e l l ' a r t e , the popular comedy of the I t a l i a n Renaissance, though even before t h i s the Saxon nun, Roswitha, (10th century A.D.) had i m i t a t e d . Terence i n pious p l a y s omit- t i n g anything of h i s s t y l e c o n s i d e r e d improper f o r h e r purpose which was d i d a c t i c . -22- A f t e r the Punic wars , the "basic small-farmer s o c i e t y of Rome was r a d i c a l l y changed. The markets were drugged with cheap s l a v e l a b o u r , c a p t i v e s of the many Roman v i c t o r i e s , and unemployment of the poorer c l a s s e s of c i t i z e n s l e d to g r e a t s o c i a l d i s t u r b a n c e s i n the c i t y of Rome where they f l o c k e d to see the " c i r c u s e s " and to get the dole of g r a i n which the s t a t e was f o r c e d to g i v e them to prevent r e v o l u t i o n . Some of the p l e b i a n s became wealthy from the e f f e c t s of i n c r e a s i n g pop- u l a t i o n and commerce and they r e s e n t e d the e x c l u s i v e n e s s of the r u l i n g p a t r i c i a n s , and o f t e n p r o v i d e d l e a d e r s h i p f o r t h e i r f e l . - low p l e b s . The Senators of Rome g r a d u a l l y y i e l d e d power to them i n the form of t r i b u n e s who were e l e c t e d to r e p r e s e n t the i n t - e r e s t of the p l e b s . The senators c o u l d not then o v e r r u l e these t r i b u n e s who had the power to vet© the a c t i o n of the c o n s u l s , and even to k i l l a m a g i s t r a t e who r e f u s e d to take n o t i c e of t h e i r v e t o . The Roman f e d e r a t i o n of c i t y - s t a t e s f u n c t i o n e d peace- f u l l y on a p r i n c i p l e of u n i t y i n d i v e r s i t y , w i t h the a l l i e d s t a t e s r e t a i n i n g t h e i r l o c a l a d m i n i s t r a t i v e c o n t r o l and Rome assuming r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r matters of m i l i t a r y p o l i c y a f f e c t i n g $he whole. But the conquest of e x t r a t e r r i t o r y i n war poured p l u n - der i n t o Rome which under mined the moral f i b r e of the govern- i n g c l a s s , while the i n f l u x of gangs of s l a v e s to work the g r e a t p l a n t a t i o n s , c a l l e d l a t i f u n d i a , as has been noted r u i n e d the f r e e farmers on small h o l d i n g s who could not compete a g a i n s t such m o n o p o l i s t i c concerns. -23* The conflict between the "unemployed" who drifted in- to the city, and the senators who profited from these abuses, re- sulted in c i v i l war. Marius and Sulla, Pompey and Caesar, were popular figures who, backed by the mob, demanded reforms. For the last hundred years B.C. there was continual strife between these r i v a l opportunists whose ruthless ambitions ruined the welfare of the republic, while in themselves they expressed the change in valies pf the society which produced them. The new Roman Empire established by the last of these, Augustus, by 27 B.C. had set up conditions of s t a b i l i t y and peace which became known as the "pax Romana", lasting for two centuries and leading to enormous industrial and commercial activity, which in.turn extended knowledge of the inhabited world. The major philosophical positions of the Romans were those of the last Greek schools, Epicureanism and Stoicism. The f i r s t appealed to the sophisticated younger Romans, who accepted the freedom from fixed values which i t gave them, based i t was on the Atomism of Democritus which considered l i f e but an acciden- t a l combination of atoms, permitting no permanent values of the Good as taught by; the Platonic theory of eternally existing Ideas. Lucretius expressed this point of view in his "On the Nature of Things". Opposed to this and accepted by the more serious typ: i c a l s p i r i t of Rome was Stoicism, whose essential idea of the equality of man is shown by the varying exponents who accepted i t and taught i t s doctrines, Epiotetus, a slave at one time, and Marcus Aurelius, Emperor of Rome. -24- Seneca stated i t s fundamentally moderate p o s i t i o n i n h i s "On the B r e v i t y of L i f e " , "On Anger", and "On Clemency", and i n h i s p l a y s , such as h i s "Medea", one of nine t r a g e d i e s • w r i t t e n i n i m i t a t i o n of E u r i p i d e s , whose l a t e r i n f l u e n c e on the plays of the I t a l i a n Renaissance, and e s p e c i a l l y on the French C l a s s i c i s m of the time of L o u i s XIV, was important. However the p h i l o s o p h i c a l idea f o r which t h i s l a t e c l a s s i c a l p e r i o d i s most famous i s that o f Neoplatonism, expressed most f u l l y by P l o t i n u s i n h i s "Enneads" or "Nine P a r t s " which was published by Porphyry(d.304)• This accepted the dichotomy i m p l i c i t i n P l a t o ' s "Theory of Ideas , and suggested two p o l e s , one rep- presaating the "one" or G-od, and the other r e p r e s e n t i n g that of Matter, and l y i n g between these extremes a l l things i n c l u d i n g man, whose s o u l partakes of the immaterial q u a l i t y of God but whose, body i s m a t e r i a l and gross. Their s o l u t i o n of t h i s dualism was an e t h i c a l one, that man should t u r n h i s back on the mater- i a l p a r t of h i m s e l f , s u b j e c t i n g and denying i t , and t u r n towards the immaterial or God. This was the most developed mysticism yet appear- i n g i n the west, and has had an i n c a l c u l a b l e e f f e c t on most sub- sequent r e l i g i o u s and p h i l o s o p h i c a l t h i n k i n g . I t was the medium from which sprang the medieval doctrine of the s a l v a t i o n of the soul through the m o r t i f i c a t i o n of the body. From i t a l s o came ideas c u r r e n t i n the Middle Ages o f the mystic v i s i o n , or ladder of p e r f e c t i o n . The l i t e r a t u r e of Rome i s an e c l e c t i c one, d e r i v - i n g not only i t s matter from Greece but a l s o many of i t s s t y l i s - t i c d e v i c e s . Cicero i s the most t y p i c a l o f t h e i r e a r l y w r i t e r s , -25- d i s p l a y s the' eloquence of o r a t o r y which was considered by them as by the Greeks one of the c i v i c n e c e s s i t i e s . H i s most famous works are "Orations Against C a t i l i n e " , "On the Orator where he discusses e d u c a t i o n a l theory;"On the S t a t e " and "On the Laws" i n which he s t a t e s h i s p o l i t i c a l philosophy; "On Old Age" and "On the Nature of the Gods" which contains h i s conception of S t o i c ideas; and h i s " L e t t e r s " which t r e a t of the a f f a i r s of an i n t e l - l i g e n t well-educated Roman of the l a s t century B.C. The most famous Roman poet i s V i r g i l , whose e x q u i s i t e mas- t e r y of h i s own language can conceal h i s i n t e l l e c t u a l indebted- ness to the Greeks more r e a d i l y than more o b v i o u s l y d e r i v a t i v e w r i t e r s . His best known work, "The Aeneid", which t e l l s of the descent of Rome from the Trojan hero Aeneas, i s f a m i l i a r through- out European education i n which i t has long been used to i n c u l - cate the p a t r i o t i c i d e a l s of l o y a l t y and courage. His "Eclogues" or p a s t o r a l poems are i n s p i r e d by the p a s t o r a l poetry of Theo- c r i t u s , and the "Georgics" t e l l i n p o e t i c v e i n of the r e a l i t i e s of farm l i f e . Ovid(d. A.D. 17), though w r i t i n g at about the same time as V i r g i l ( d . 19 B.C.) shows i n h i s work r a t h e r a p i c t u r e of the l a x m o r a l i t y and l a c k o f purpose of s o p h i s t i c a t e d urban Roman s o c i e t y , than the v i r t u e s of a landed a r i s t o c r a c y l i v i n g i n sep- arate small communities, and possessing a compact f a m i l y l i f e r u l e d over by the " p a t e r f a m i l i a s " . Ovid"s "Ars Amatoris" and "Metamorphoses" have exerted an enormous i n f l u e n c e on the l i t e r a t u r e of Europe. The "Art of Love" though w r i t t e n i n a c y n i c a l s p i r i t to s a t i r i z e the subject by g i v i n g i t a p s e u d o - s c i e n t i f i c treatment, was used s e r i o u s l y by -26- the w r i t e r s o f the medieval c o u r t l y romances, and h i s "Me-tamor-* phoses", t e l l i n g the s t o r i e s of the c l a s s i c a l mythology, has been a source f o r Dante, Chaucer, Shakespeare, and many other a r t i s t s and h i s mastery o f s t y l e continues to p l e a s e . The h i s t o r i c a l w r i t i n g s of the Romans has been u s e f u l i n b r i d g i n g the gap between the l a t e H e l l e n i s t i c p e r i o d and t h e i r own. P l i n y the E l d e r , i n h i s " N a t u r a l H i s t o r i e s " covers most of the f i e l d of extant knowledge;- P l i n y the Younger(d.114) , a w r i - t e r o f c o n s i d e r a b l y l e s s i n t e l l e c t u a l content and extent, t e l l s amusingly about the happenings of h i s day, one o f the most i n t e r - e s t i n g to us being h i s d e s c r i p t i o n of the e r u p t i o n o f Vesuvius i n A.D.79 which destroyed Pompeii; P l u t a r c h (d.120) i n h i s " P a r a l l e l L i v e s " r e l a t e s the major b i o g r a p h i c a l events of 23 Greek and 23 - Roman nobles and n o t a b l e s , and t h i s has served s i n c e as a source f o r dramatic p r e s e n t a t i o n s of those c h a r a c t e r s by such w r i t e r s as Shakespeare i n h i s " C o r i o l a n u s " , " J u l i u s Caesar" and "Antony and C l e o p a t r a " ; J u l i u s Caesar h i m s e l f wrote an h i s t o r i c a l account of h i s " G a l l i c Wars" i n o r d e r to j u s t i f y h i m s e l f and h i s a c t i o n s i n h i s campaigns; L i v y g l o r i f i e d Rome i n h i s " H i s t o r y o f Rome from the Founding of the C i t y " , whereas T a c i t u s i n h i s "Annals"(which . begin w i t h the p r i n c i p a t e of Augustus) and h i s " H i s t o r i e s " (which begin w i t h A.D.68) shows the c o r r u p t i o n of Roman s o c i e t y , and i n h i s "Germania" d e s c r i b e s the t r i b e s o f Germany, and i n h i s " A g r i c o l a c o l a " recounts the e x p l o i t s of h i s f a t h e r - i n - l a w who conquered B r i t a i n ; t h i s emphasis on morals was not as s t e r n l y f o l l o w e d by Suetonius i n h i s " L i v e s o f the Twelve Caesars" (from J u l i u s Cae- sar to Domitian), who found a l a t e r i m i t a t o r i n the monk E g i n h a r d of the 9th century, w r i t i n g a " L i f e o f Charlemagne". -27- More i n t e r e s t e d i n s a t i r i z i n g the f o l l i e s of Roman s o c i e t y than i n r e c o r d i n g t h e i r e x p l o i t s were : Juvenal(d.135), exceptionally b i t t e r i n h i s r u t h l e s s d e l i n e a t i o n s o f the l u x u r - ious l i v i n g of the upper c l a s s e s , e s p e c i a l l y so i n h i s s a t i r e on women; and M a r t i a l (d,104) whose w r i t i n g s may have i n s p i r e d the lampoons o f the l a l i a n Renaissance; and L u c i a n of Samosate, whose "Dialogue o f the Dead" and "Alexander the F a l s e Prophet" i n s p i r e d or at l e a s t e x e r t e d some i n f l u e n c e on the work o f E r a s - mus, V o l t a i r e and S w i f t The i d e a l o f Roman, e d u c a t i o n has g i v e n us a word d e s c r i b - i n g our own i d e a l of "humanism", s i n c e they attempted to make c i v i l i z e d men out o f t h e i r young men, i n d i c a t i n g t h i s change by the name "humanus" g i v e n to the a d u l t , and by the name "humanitas" g i v e n to the type o f e d u c a t i o n . However, the t y p i c a l m a n i f e s t a t i o n of Roman genius was . .. r a t h e r that o f e n g i n e e r i n g and l e g a l c o n s t r u c t i o n . T h e i r a r c h - i t e c t u r a l p r e f e r e n c e s were f o r an ornate v e r s i o n of the l a t e Cor- i n t h i a n s t y l e , which i s shown i n the F l a v i a n Amphitheatre, c a l l - ed the Colosseum, b u i l t to h o l d 50,000 s p e c t a t o r s , and i n the Pantheon, b u i l t i n the f i r s t century A.D. so w£l t h a t i n the 1800 years folia/wing i t has r e q u i r e d very few r e p a i r s . The a r c h o f triumph b u i l t to honour some r e t u r n i n g hero i s another very Ro- man form, f o r example, the Arch o f C o n s t a n t i n e . T h e i r s c u l p t u r e c o n s i s t e d i n making copies o f Greek mas- t e r p i e c e s , and i t was these l a t e r d i s c o v e r e d c o p i e s which i n f l u - enced the s c u l p t o r s of the Renaissance. The Romans l e f t a l s o a f i n e c o l l e c t i o n o f p o r t r a i t b u s t s , from which some i d e a of the v i r t u e s they p r i z e d can be understood, as they were c h i e f l y i n - s p i r e d by reverence f o r t h e i r f o r e f a t h e r s . -28- Almost the only remaining examples of Roman p a i n t i n g are those d i s c o v e r e d on the w a l l s of Pompeii, which are s i m i l a r i n technique to the f r e s c o e s of the Renaissance p a i n t e r s of f r e s c o e s but there are many examples of the mosaic p a t t e r n s w i t h which they adorned t h e i r w a l l s and f l o o r s . T h e i r e n g i n e e r i n g a b i l i t i e s took a more o r i g i n a l form, which i s shown i n t h e i r b u i l d i n g s , and i n b r i d g e s l i k e the one s t i l l s t a n d i n g over the Tagus r i v e r at A l c a n t a r a i n Spain, 150 fjeet high? i n the aqueducts l i k e t h a t a t Nimes i n southern Prance where there are three arcades to c a r r y a c u r r e n t of water a t a h e i g h t of 160 f e e t ; and i n the b u i l d i n g of t h e i r roads, examp- l e s s t i l l reamining i n the Appian Way and the Sacred Way i n t o Rome. TheBe roads are made of s e v e r a l l a y e r s of stone and con- c r e t e , and s u r f a c e d w i t h stones which are so w e l l s e t , so w e l l hewn and f i t t e d together that wagons r o l l i n g over them h a r d l y r a t t l e . In l e g a l s t r u c t u r e the Romans b u i l t as e n d u r i n g l y f o r p o s t e r i t y a£ i n t h e i r roads. Theodosius 11, i n 438, c o d i f i e d the laws of the p r e v i o u s C h r i s t i a n emperors, and J u s t i n i a n 1 , the Byzantine Emperoro from 427-565, s e t down i n l o g i c a l form the whole body of Roman l e g a l p r i n c i p l e . In s a n i t a t i o n and h o s p i t a l care f o r t h e i r g r e a t armies Rome a l s o made important c o n t r i b u t i o n s to human knowledge. The houses of Rome were p r o v i d e d w i t h water from a c e n t r a l d i s t r i b - u t i n g c e n t r e , and of their sewage systems the most famous i s the Cloaca Maxima. Celsus wrote h i s *0n Medic&ne*, and Galen (d.199) was v e r y i n f l u e n t i a l . He continued the i d e a taken from the Greeks - 2 9 - of the f o u r humours, a s s i g n i n g to them these q u a l i t i e s and e l - ements, •• Q u a l i t i e s Elements Humours Hot and wet A i r Yellow B i l e Hot and dry E i r e Blood Cold and d r y E a r t h B l a c k B i l e Cold and wet Water Phlegm which d i v i s i o n s l a t e r r e c u r i n medieval medicine and l e t t e r s . M e d i c a l knowledge from t h i s time on began to s h r i n k i n i t s a t t e n t i o n to a c t u a l anatomical s t u d i e s and to expand i t s non- s c i e n t i f i c aspects i n a t t e n t i o n to a n t r o l o g y and alchemy, w i t h men d a b b l i n g i n i d e a s of magic r a t h e r than i n those of p r e c i s e knowledge. The study of the Zodiac was supposed to r e v e a l the s t a r s ' i n f l u e n c e on human d e s t i n y , and the s i g n s of tne Zodiac were taken as e x e r t i n g i n f l u e n c e over d i f f e r e n t p a r t s of the human body... A r i e s on the head, Taurus on the neck, Gemini on the shoulders and arms, Cancer on the b r e a s t , Leo on the f l a n k s , V i r g o on the b l a d d e r , L i b r a on the b u t t o c k s , S c o r p i o on the g e n i t a l s , S a g i t t a r i u s on the t h i g h s Aquar/ius on the limbs, and P i s c e s on the f e e t . which a l s o l a t e r i n f l u e n c e d , medieval.thought. Rome's c h i e f p e r s o n a l c o n t r i b u t i o n then to r e s i d u a l c i v - i l i z a t i o n was i n her e n g i n e e r i n g triumphs, i n her c o d i f i e d law, bequeatned i n ner u n i v e r s a l l y used l a n g u a g e , L a t i n , and i n her spreading abroad the c u l t u r e of Greece. With the f i r s t century A.D. of the C h r i s t i a n era, pop- u l a t i o n f i g u r e s in I t a l y began to d e c l i n e , and the s t r i c t home l i f e and genius of the f a m i l y of the e a r l y Romans d i s i n t e g r a t e d . Ovidian s a t i r e g r a p h i c a l l y shows t h i s at the b e g i n n i n g of the century i n hie p i c t u r e of the l a x i t y of the t r a d i t i o n a l v a l u e s . In p o l i t i c a l s t r u c t u r e a l s o there were changes. And e c o n o m i c a l l y -30- there appeared a form of monopoly l a n d l o r d i s m , and c o n t r o l be- came more and more concentrated i n the hands of fewer and fewer l a r g e landowners, which ms coupled w i t h an i n c r e a s i n g l y crush- i n g system of t a x a t i o n which drove out the small landlord.The Pax Romana d i s s o l v e d and the c i v i l wars (235-285) proved d i s a s - t r o u s , imposing as they d i d 26 emperors i n 50 y e a r s . T h i s confu- s i o n was aggravated by the plague, coming from Asia i n 252 and decimating the p o p u l a t i o n of the empire i n the f o l l o w i n g f i f t e e n y e a r s . The D i o c l e t a i n reforms (284-305) staved o f f the complete d i s o r g a n i z a t i o n of the empire f o r a while , but h i s i d e a of sep- a r a t i n g i t i n two, w i t h two complete s e t s of o f f i c i a l s , proved r u i n o u s l y expensive. By 400 the State attempted to impress a permanent mold on i t s s o c i e t y i n the hope of r e t a i n i n g s t a b i l i t y by means of keeping a l l p o s i t i o n s h e r e d i t a r y : colons were bound to the s o i l ; c u r i a l s , the m u n i c i p a l a r i s t o c r a c y , were f o r b i d d e n to s h i r k t h e i r d u t i e s ; and c r a f t s were kept as h e r e d i t a r y occu- p a t i o n s , no craftsman b e i n g p e r m i t t e d to l e a v e h i s j o b ; t h i s f i n a l attempt at r i g i d i f y i n g s o c i a l s t r u c t u r e i n the face of immi- nent s o c i a l change i s r e m i n i s c e n t of the f a s c i s t experiments we have been w i t n e s s i n g i n Europe i n the l a s t 25 y e a r s . But the government was unable to c r e a t e the p r o s p e r i t y which alone would have ensured some measure of success to t h i s i d e a , and i t g r a d u a l l y disappeared everywhere - c u r i a l s d i d r e f u s e t h e i r appointed d u t i e s , colons d i d run away, and the s t a t e was not able to stop them. C i v i c l i f e became p a r a l y s e d , and the b a r b a r i a n i n v a s i o n s met l i t t l e r e s i s t a n c e from the once mighty but now decadent Rome. -31- E a r l y C h r i s t i a n a r t which p a r t l y o v e r l a p s t h i s p e r i o d of Roman d e c l i n e was used to express a s t r i c t l y m o n o t h e i s t i c r e l - i g i o n , denying the many gods and l i b e r a l l a t t i t u d e s of the c l a s s - i c a l c u l t u r e of Greece and ROme, C h r i s t i a n i t y took over some aspects of N e o p l a t o n i s t the- ory and renounced the t h i n g s of t h i s l i f e as v a l u e l e s s i n terms of e t e r n i t y , and i n s p i t e of p e r s e c u t i o n t h e i r numbers grew, s i n c e they regarded martyrdom as the supreme honour p r o v i n g t h e i r f a i t h , an a t t i t u d e f a m i l i a r to us today i n the many mar- t y r s to s o c i a l theory who s a c r i f i c e d t h e i r l i v e s i n the face of as severe p e r s e c u t i o n . With the l e g a l i z i n g of C h r i s t i a n i t y by C o n s t a n t i n e 1 s E d i c t of M i l a n i n 313 begins what can be c a l l e d t y p i c a l e a r l y C h r i s t i a n a r c h i t e c t u r e . During the p e r i o d of p e r s e c u t i o n d i s t i n c - t i v e C h r i s t i a n a r t was known however. The catacombs of Rome are important s u r v i v a l s of t h i s phase of development, c o n t a i n i n g a l l e g o r i c a l drawings from the o l d testament as w a l l d e c o r a t i o n s , and of 'orantes* or ' p r a y - e r s * . The e a r l i e s t form of above-ground C h r i s t i a n a r c h i t e c t u r e was based on that of the Roman law-courts and the c h r i s t i a n churches b u i l t at t h i s p e r i o d are c a l l e d 'ba- s i l i c a s ' . They had r e c t a n g u l a r f l o o r p l a n s d i v i d e d i n t o three a i s l e s each separated by a row of columns; at the end of the cen- t r a l a i s l e ( c a l l e d the 'nave' ) was a s e m i - c i r c u l a r 'apse'. The roof over the nave was h i g h e r than t h a t over the side a i s l e s , and i n f r o n t of the church was an 'atrium', open i n the centre and surrounded by a roofed colonnade. Churches of t h i s type b u i l t i n the 4th, 5th and 6th c e n t u r i e s are s t i l l s t a n d i n g near -32- Rome, examples b e i n g those of S t . P a u l , Santa M a r i a Maggiere, St.Lawrence-outside-the-Walls, and San Clemente. The Romanesque churches appearing soon i n the e a r l y Mid- d l e Ages are very l i k e these b a s i l i c a s , and the l a t e r appearing Gothic ( a f t e r 1200) are m o d i f i c a t i o n s of i t s t y p i c a l s t y l e , an- other p o i n t i n my complaint a g a i n s t Spengler's t h e s i s of the e x c l u s i v e n e s s of d i f f e r e n t c u l t u r e s , and f o r my t h e s i s t h a t a r t r e s i d u e s from one p e r i o d a f f e c t a r t i s t s of other p e r i o d s . In 325 Constantine convoked the C o u n c i l of Nicaea to p u r i f y the o f f i c i a l d o c t r i n e s of the Church, f o r there had appear- ed a form c a l l e d A r i s n i s m , which threatened the s u p e r n a t u r a l b a s i s of C h r i s t a i n i t y by a s s e r t i n g that Jesus was l e s s than God though more than man, whereas the o f f i c i a l p o s i t i o n was that Je- sus was c o e t e r n a l w i t h God and at the same time true man. The Nicene Creed was formulated and the C o u n c i l upheld the orthodox view. The C h r i s t i a n i d e a l l e d to c e r t a i n f a n a t i c r i g o u r s of as- c e t i c i s m i n the l i v e s of such h e r m i t B as St.Anthony of Egypt(d. 356) d i f f e r i n g from those l a t e r monks who l i k e St.Pachomius(d. 346) had organized a common r u l e whereby each hermit r e t a i n e d a separate c e l l but j o i n e d i n common work, d e v o t i o n s , and read- i n g of the gospel S t . B a s i l ' s Rule (d.379) l a t e r brought togeth- e r i n t h i s community l i f e men of s i m i l a r r e l i g i o u s tendencies, wherein they worshipped, contemplated, read, and laboured i n a p r e s c r i b e d manner. T h i s was a f o r t u n a t e development of the more i n d i v i d u a l i s t i c tendency of the hermit, s i n c e the new monaster- i e s where the r e l i g i o u s communities l i v e d became c e n t r e s of l e a r n - i n g and exeabted an important c o n s e r v i n g e f f e c t on medieval c u l - t u r e . -33- The e a r l y church w r i t i n g s , known as ' p a t r i s t i c ' from the a p p e l l a t i o n s g i v e n t h e i r authors, the ' a p o s t o l i c f a t h e r s ' and the 'church f a t h e r s ' , a l s o e x e r t e d a d i r e c t i v e i n f l u e n c e on medieval, and through them,on modern ways of t h i n k i n g . Bishop Eusebius (d.339) gave the h i s t o r i c a l bases of the Church from i t s beginnings i n the time of Jesus to h i s own day. Ambrose (d.297), an e c c l e s i a s t i c a l e x e c u t i v e , a l s o i n t r o d u c e d the l i t u r g i c a l hymn i n t o the western church. Jerome(d.420) t r a n s - l a t e d the Old and New Testaments from the o r i g i n a l Hebrew i n t o the L a t i n of the 4 t h century known as the V u l g a t e , and h i s v e r - s i o n was t h a t used throughout the Middle Ages. St.Augustine of Hippo (d430) was a v e r y i n f l u e n t i a l w r i t e r . In h i s "Confessione" he wrote one of the f i r s t important a u t o b i o g r a p h i e s , t e l l i n g des- c r i p t i v e i n c i d e n t s from h i s e a r l y l i f e of d i s s o l u t e b e h a v i o r and d i s b e l i e f i n candid c o n f e s s i o n . H i s a n a l y s i s of s e c u l a r and s p i r - i t u a l matters i n h i s • C i v i t a t e D e i * was important i n s e t t i n g the o f f i c i a l church o p i n i o n on such m a t t e r s . The works of a l l these church f a t h e r s was l a t e r used by Thomas Aquinas i n h i s v a s t r e l - i g i o u s s y n t h e s i s . With the appearance of the b a r b a r i a n t r i b e s as important elements of European h i s t o r y we are h e a r i n g the emergence of western c u l t u r e proper. In the second century A.D. the Goths, and east German t r i b e , moved southward to the p l a i n s of f e r t i l e southern R u s s i a where they l e a r n t to read and w r i t e , borrowing the alphabet from the Greek and Roman s e t t l e m e n t s along the shores of the Black Sea, and p a s s i n g i t on g r a d u a l l y to the other Germanic t r i b e s , -34- even as f a r as Scandinavia, employing i n s c r i p t i o n s of the type known as ' r u n i c ' which date hack to the 5th and 6th c e n t u r i e s B.C. The Goths were a l s o converted to the A r i a n form of C h r i s t - i a n i t y by Bishop U l f i l a s (d.38l) who had been educated i n Con- s t a n t i n o p l e . The B i b l e was t r a n s l a t e d i n t o Gothic, the e a r l i e s t extant monument of l i t e r a t u r e i n any Germanic language, and Ar- i a n i s m spread to the other German t r i b e s l i v i n g along the Danube f r o n t i e r of the Roman Empire; the V i s i g o t h s , Ostrogoths,Burgund- i a n s . Vandals, Suevians, Allamanni, and Lombards, so that many of these were A r i a n C h r i s t i a n s before moving i n t o the Roman Emp- i r e . T h i s move w i t h i n the borders of the Empire was at f i r s t a g r a d u a l one, many i n d i v i d u a l s from the border t r i b e s having been to Rome as hostages, v i s i t o r s , or t r a d e r s , and r e t u r n i n g t o l d of i t i n such a t t r a c t i v e terms that i t i s f e l t by some h i s - t o r i a n s that these t a l e s were a c o n v i n c i n g m f a c t o r i n the move w i t h i n the b o r d e r s . The Germanic t r i b e s moved south i t i s be- l i e v e d p a r t l y because of the pressure of the nomadic Huns from the r e a r , p a r t l y because of the famine and f l o o d c o n d i t i o n s - and p a r t l y because of t h i s a t t r a c t i o n toward the r i c h e r l i f e of C l a s s i c c u l t u r e . I n e v i t a b l y i n t h e i r encroaching movement the b a r b a r i a n s destroyed much t h a t was v a l u a b l e i n t h i s l i f e that had a t t r a c t e d them, but i t should be remembered t h a t they a l s o absorbed much, i n the elements of law, and -language. However i n the 'dark ages' f o l l o w i n g these d i s r u p t i v e moves, i n the p e r i o d o f medieval h i s t o r y preceeding the 11th century, the c i t y of Byzantium was to p l a y the p a r t f o r m e r l y performed by Athens and Rome. -35- Byzantine l i t e r a t u r e was more i n f l u e n c e d by that of Greece than by t h a t of Rome; indeed so f a r i n f l u e n c e d that a poet, Constan- t i n e c r i t i c i z i n g h i s master, Leo the P h i l o s o p h e r , Archbishop of T h e s s a l o n i c a , wrote of the pagan gods of the Greeks as • s o u l - devouring beasts* and condemning Greek l i t e r a t u r e because of t h i s i n f l u e n c e . . . "Foul f a r e they, who the gods adore Worshipped by G r e c i a n f o l k of yore - Amorous gods to p a s s i o n s prone, Gods as a d u l t e r e r s well-known, Gods who were lame, and gods who f e l t The wound t h a t some mean m o r t a l d e a l t ; And goddesses, a crowd obscene, Among them many a h a r l o t queen; Some wedded clownish herds, I trow, Some s q u i n t e d h i d e o u s l y enow...." 6. In medicine the Byzantine d o c t o r s though o c c a s i o n a l l y us- i n g charms, c a r r i e d on to some extent i n the s p i r i t of Galen, w i t h Alexander of T r a l l e s (525-605) making o r i g i n a l o b s e r v a t i o n s on the d i s e a s e s of d y s e n t e r y , g o u t , b i l i o u s n e s s and insanity,and Paul of Aegina (625-690) i n h i s "Epitome" reviewing m e d i c a l knowledge of h i s day, i n p e d i a t r i c s and o b s t e t r i c s , i n removing i n f e c t e d t o n s i l s and breasts,and i n opewtions f o r stone. A l s o the p u b l i c h e a l t h a d m i n i s t r a t i o n of towns was helped by the knowledge achieved by the Byzantine d o c t o r s i n q u a r a n t i n i n g and and c o n t r o l l i n g contagious d i s e a s e s l i k e smallpox and d i p h t h e r i a . In a r c h i t e c t u r e the Byzantine form i s a m o d i f i c a t i o n of tha cruciform, b a s i l i c a s of the western church, u s i n g the Greek c r o s s , w i t h g i g a n t i c domes surmounting them. T h i s form spread from them to the Russian churches, and to the Arab mosques. The d e s i r e f o r ornate magnificence d i s c e r n i b l e i n the most t y p i c a l of the b u i l d i n g s of Rome i s everywhere v i s i b l e a l s o i n the By- 6. Bury, J.B. " H i s t o r y of the E a s t e r n E m p i r e " M a c m i l l a n s , L o n d o n . 1912, pps. 440-441. -36- zantesque a r c h i t e c t u r e . . . "Everywhere i n i t we f i n d that love of stupendous l u x u r y and of p r o d i g i o u s splendour which Byzantium d i s p l a y e d at every p e r i o d of her h i s t o r y . In the d e c o r a t i o n of the churches and the p a l a c e s i t i s always the same s t o r y - p r e c i o u s m a r b l e s , g l i t t e r i n g mosaics, m a g n i f i c e n t work i n g o l d and s i l v e r , e n d wonderful hangings, a l l intended to enhance the beauty of the r i t e s of r e l i g i o n , and the majesty of t h e i m p e r - i a l person; i n p u b l i c and p r i v a t e l i f e n o t h i n g but sumptuous t i s s u e s shot w i t h purple and g o l d , f i n e carved i v o r i e s , b r o n g e s i n l a i d w i t h s i l v e r , r i c h l y i l l u m i n a t e d manuscripts,enamels, c l i s o n n e i n resplendent c o l o u r s , g o l d and silver p l a t e , a n d cost l y j e w e l s . Whefcer, by d e c o r a t i n g the w a l l s of churches w i t h the pageant of sacred h i s t o r y s k i l l f u l l y disposed, t h i s a r t was i n t e n t on g l o r i f y i n g god,on e x p r e s s i n g an a r t i c l e of f a i t h on i n t e r p r e t i n g the l i t u r g i c a l r i t e s , or whether, to g l o r i f y the majesty of the s o v e r e i g n , and to g i v e p l e a s u r e to the c o u r t and the g r a n d e e s , i t was d e p i c t i n g i n a more profane s p i r i t s u b j e c t s borrowed from c l a s s i c a l h i s t o r y or mythology, p i c t u r e s q u e scenes dear to H e l l e n i s t i c a r t , as w e l l as h i s - t o r i c a l p a i n t i n g s , r e p r e s e n t i n g the i m p e r i a l v i c t o r i e s , and p o r t r a i t s of the p r i n c e s i n t h e i r g l o r y , everywhere we f i n d t h a t l o v e of magnificence which even today makes us v i s u a l - i z e Byzantium i n a j e w e l l e d i r i d e s c e n c e , i n a shimmer of g o l d . 7. T h i s a r t i s t i c a c t i v i t y of Byzantium i s a h y b r i d one, w i t h elements from Greece,Rome and the Mohammedan E a s t ; i t s c u l - ture i s an urban one, a l i v e w i t h c o m m e r c i a l , i n d u s t r i a l , and admin- i s t r a t i v e a c t i v i t y , and w i t h the a r t s used as the embroidery ap- p r o p r i a t e to i m p e r i a l m a g n i f i c e n c e . M e d i e v a l c i v i l i z a t i o n draws on t h i s Byzantesque aasevoir as i t does on Greek,Roman, and Arab sources, which are more or l e s s e n f e o f f e d and become p a r t of the l i f e of the C e l t i c , G e r m a n i c , S l a v i c and other nomadic p o p u l a t i o n s of Europe. The predominant c i v i l i z i n g i d e a of the church, which en- couraged a s p e c i a l a t t i t u d e toward l i f e was everywhere i n Europe i n f u s e d w i t h the_remnants of pagan p r a c t i c e s , evidence of which i s found i n the o r d e a l s by f i r e and water l e f t from the days of King A t h e l s t a n i n England f o r a t t e s t i n g innocence of the accused. 7 . D i e h l , C h a r l e s : "YThe Cambridge Medieval H i s t o r y - . M a c m i l l a n s , •N.Y., vol.4,p.767. ' -37- A more i n t e l l e c t u a l acceptance of the i d e a l s of C h r i s t - i a n i t y i s shown i n t h i s account , from Bede ' 6 " E c c l e s i a s t i c a l H i s t o r y of the E n g l i s h Nation", of the c o n v e r s i o n of K i n g Edwin of Northumbria i n 627... "The present l i f e of man,0 King, seems to me , i n comparison w i t h that time which i s unknown to us, l i k e to the s w i f t f l i g h t of the sparrow through the room wher- e i n you s i t a t supper i n w i n t e r w i t h your commanders and min- i s t e r s , and a good f i r e i n the midst, w h i l s t the storm of r a i n and snow p r e v a i l abroad : the sparrow , I say, f l y i n g i n at one door, and immediately out a n o t h e r , w h i l s t he i s w i t h i n , i s safe from the w i n t r y storm; but a f t e r a s h o r t space of f a i r weather, he immediately vanishes from your s i g h t , i n t o the dark w i n t e r from which he had emerged. So t h i s l i f e of man appears to me,, but f o r a s h o r t space, but what went b e f o r e , or of what i s t o f o l l o w , we are u t t e r l y i g n o r a n t . I f there- f o r e , t h i s new d o c t r i n e c o n t a i n s something more c e r t a i n , i t seems j u s t l y to deserve to be f o l l o w e d . " l 8. C h r i s t i a n i t y spread r a p i d l y t h r o u g h o u t the kingdoms of Europe.Russia on the east being almost completely C h r i s t i a n by 1000, l e a v i n g only the Einn and L i t h u a n i a n groups i n an untouched pagan s t a t e . One of the agencies of t h i s t r a n s f o r m i n g process was that of the monastic orders whose o r i g i n s were d e s c r i b e d b e f o r e . The I r i s h C h r i s t i a n s were organized i n t o monastic orders which sent t e a c h e r s to Iona o f f the coast of S c o t l a n d to convert the S c o t t i s h and the n o r t h e r n E n g l i s h , and then, i n the e a r l y 7th century, to convert the s t i l l pagan t r i b e s of Germans i n the Rhine v a l l e y . St.Benedict e s t a b l i s i e d h i s f i r s t monastery at Mon- t e c a s s i n o i n 528, h i s Rule s t r e s s i n g the order of l i v i n g , h i s ob- j e c t being to h e l p monks who wished to l i v e a s y s t e m a t i c a l l y sim- p l e l i f e , i n r e l i g i o u s c i r c l e s ; ' The Church acted , as has been.noted, as a c o n s e r v i n g ag- ency f o r c u l t u r e i n these dark days of d i s o r g a n i z a t i o n before 8.Bede,op.cit,,Everymans,London,pps.35-36, -39- medieval c i v i l i z a t i o n became c l e a r l y a r t i c u l a t e d . T h e i r church- men depended on the c l a s s i c s of Greece and Rome not only f o r l e a r n i n g t h e i r b a s i c reading and w r i t i n g from them, but a l s o to d e r i v e fundamental a t t i t u d e s to l i f e therefrom. One of t h e i r number, St.Jerome, t e l l s how, when he was once very s i c k , he had a v i s i o n . . . "Suddenly I was caught up i n the' s p i r i t and dragged before the Judge's seat : and here the l i g h t was so d a z z l i n g and the b r i g h t n e s s s h i n i n g from those who stood around so r a d i a n t , that I f l u n g myself upon the ground and I d i d not dare to look up. I was asked to s t a t e my c o n d i t i o n and r e p l i e d t h a t I was a C h r i s t i a n . But He who p r e s i d e d s a i d : "Thou l i e s t ; thou a r t a C i c - eronian, not a C h r i s t i a n . For where thy t r e a s u r e i s there w i l l thy h e a r t be a l s o . " B o e t h i u s (d.526), who i s f r e q u e n t l y read as an a u t h o r i t y by l a t e r Churchmen, was a Roman s c h o l a r who l i v e d a t the court of the O s t r o g o t h i c k i n g , Theodoric (d.532) and was l a t e r exec- uted by the k i n g on s u s p i c i o n . B o e t h i u s was a well-educated man whose work of t r a n s l a t i n g Greek c l a s s i c s i n t o L a t i n made these a v a i l a b l e when the use of Greek was l a s t . H i s t r a n s l a t i o n s i n - clude A r i s t o t l e ' s " C a t e g o r i e s " and "De I n t e r p r e t a t i o n e " , and h i s own o r i g i n a l work i n c l u d e d t r e a t i s e s on A r i t h m e t i c and music, one of which was l a t e r t r a n s l a t e d i n t o E n g l i s h by Chaucer, and h i s w i d e l y read " C o n s o l a t i o n of P h i l o s o p h y " . There i s no e v i d - ence that he was a C h r i s t i a n . I s i d o r e of S e v i l l e (d.636), i s another of the g r e a t f i g - ures of the e a r l y Middle Ages. He wrote an enormous encycloped- i a c a l l e d the "Etymologies", which i n c l u d e d work on the seven l i b e r a l a r t s : grammar, r h e t o r i c , and l o g i c ( t r i v i u m ) , geometry, arithmetic,astronomy, and music (quadrivium); as w e l l as mater- i a l on medicine,law,and theology. He b e l i e v e d that t h i n g s c o u l d -40- be e x p l a i n e d simply by the etymology of t h e i r names. Around the C a r o l i n g i a n c o u r t , as i n the monasteries, ga- thered men of l e t t e r s . Included among these are the monk, E g i n - hard whose biography of Charlemagne has a l r e a d y been r e f e r r e d to, the teacher ,Alcuin,who brought from England (where a t t h i B time York was the l e a d i n g shool of the C h r i s t i a n world) the hand- w r i t i n g which the E n g l i s h had improved by borrowing from I r i s h manuscript. T h i s form i s today c a l l e d the C a r o l i n g i a n m i n i s c u l e and was the predecessor of the type of medieval handwriting ap- p e a r i n g at the end of the Middle Ages. The t y p i c a l l i t e r a t u r e of the p e r i d i s that of the "hag- iography" or s a i n t s ' l i v e s , some of which were w r i t t e n by Greg- ory the Great, pope from 590-604, i n h i s "Dialogues" which he wrote to i n s t r u c t and amuse the l a i t y . H i s "Magna M o r a l i a " was the fundamental work on theology s t u d i e d throughout the p e r i o d . The Bayeux Tapestry which dates from 1120 shows the dawn- i n g f e u d a l s o c i e t y of t h i s e a r l i e r p e r i o d . I t i s 231 f e e t long and 20 inches wide and t y p i c a l l y i n a f i g h t i n g f e u d a l s o c i e t y snows the Norman conquest of England. T h i s e a r l y Medieval soc- i e t y i s one of beginnings, or even of pre-beginnings, s i n c e West- ern C u l t u r e p r o p e r l y begins w i t h the l a t e Romanesque ana G o t h i c . The l i f e of t h i s time with i t s t n r e e - f o l d estate-moid of n o b i l - i t y , c l e r g y , and p e a s a n t r y , o r g a n i z e d i n t o g r e a t manors modeled on l a t i f u n d i a of the l a s t p e r i o d of Roman g r e a t l a n d - h o l d i n g s , was one of too g r e a t i n s e c u r i t y , w i t h too l i t t l e c o n t a c t of i n t e l l - e c t u a l c u r r e n t s of one p l a c e w i t h those of anotner, to a l l o w of any p o l i c e d or complete a r t - f o r m s . -41- In l i t e r a t u r e i t was r a t h e r a p e r i o d of legend, equiva- l e n t c u l t u r a l l y to t h a t which i s d e s c r i b e d i n the Homeric e p i c s . *n the n o r t h there were the A r t h u r i a n legends, the e a r l y V i k i n g Eddas, the s t o r i e s of the German V a l h a l l a i n the N i e b e l u n g e n l i e d , and the F i n n i s h L a l v a l a . These a l l formed a m a t r i x from which l a - t e r and more i n t e l l e c t u a l l y developed a r t s were to draw source m a t e r i a l . We see, at t h i s time, what Spengler d e s c r i b e s as M A crowd of 'art-makers* who a l l dance or mime or s i n g . . . . i t i s only the h i g h e r a r t that becomes d e c i s i v e l y an a r t 'before s p e c t a t o r s * Chapter Three : Western C u l t u r e and C i v i l i z a t i o n , T w e l f t h Century to the P r e s e n t . -43- One l i n k between the Dark and Middle Ages was made by the Schoolmen, teachers who taught i n the monastery and Cathed- r a l s c h o o l s . Of these the most famous e a r l y teachers were : Jo- hannes Scotus, c a l l e d E r i g e n a because of h i s I r i s h o r i g i n , a man of powerful and o r i g i n a l i n t e l l e c t u a l g i f t s , whose use of the M e o p l a t o n i s t i d e a s shows the c o n t i n u i t y of e a r l y p h i l o s o p h i c thought. He d i e d between 867 and 891. The famous Gerbert of Au- r i l l a c was born near the middle of the next century, v i s i t e d Spain l a t e r i n l i f e and became steeped i n the A r a b i c s c i e n c e s t i l l a v a i l a b l e there, wrote of i t s accumulation and was the f i r s t C h r i s t i a n w r i t e r to d e s c r i b e the a r a b i c numerals. In 999 he became Pope S y l v e s t e r l l l a n d acted as a focus of encourage- ment f o r l e a r n i n g u n t i l h i s death i n 1003. I n t e l l e c t u a l and a r t - i s t i c s t i m u l u s was g i v e n a l s o by the three Saxon Ottos, Otto 1, who r u l e d from 936-973 and took over the i d e a i f not the scope of Charlemagne's empire and undertook a l s o to r e v i v e the C a r o l - i n g i a n t r a d i t i o n . o f l e a r n e d c o u n c i l l o r s ; Otto 11, 973-983; and Otto 111,983-1002, whose Empress Theophane was the daughter of the Byzantine emperor Romanus 11, and brought with hear Greek a r - t i s t s and workmen. Gerard of Cremona (d,1187) was the t r a n s l a t o r of A r i s t o t - l e ' s "Organon", and of the w i d e l y i n f l u e n t i a l "Almagest'' of P t o l - emy. H i s E n g l i s h contemporary,Adelard of Bath, i n 1116 t r a n s l a - ted the works of E u c l i d from the A r a b i c . John of S a l i s b u r y , d . l l 8 0 was one of the most elegant of the L a t i n i s t s c h o l a r s produced by the c a t h e d r a l s c h o o l of C h a r t r e s , while St.Anselm,d.ll07,was a P l a t o n i s t who d e r i v e d h i s p i a t o n i s m from Augustine of Hippo and -44- .Boethius, and gave o n t o l o g i c a l p r o o f s of the e x i s t e n c e of God hased on the P l a t o n i c Ideas i n h i s "Monologium" and " P r o s l o g - ium". One of the p o i n t s on which the Schoolmen fought most b i t - t e r l y was t h a t of U n i v e r s a l s . Abelard of P a r i s h e l d to the the- ory that U n i v e r s a l s e x i s t only i n the mind, the only e x t e r n a l r r e a l i t y being that of t h i n g s . T h i s p o s i t i o n was known as "Con- c e p t u a l i s m " , and was combatted by St.Bernard (d.1153), who f o l - t lows the p l a t o n i c theory. Hear the end of the 12th and d u r i n g the 13th c e n t u r i e s there appeared three i n t e l l e c t u a l g i a n t s : A l b e r t u s Magnus , (d. 1280), Thomas Aquinas, (d.1274) and Roger Bacon (d.1292).Al- b e r t the Great mastered the new A r i s t o t e l i a n l e a r n i n g made a- v a i l a b l e by h i s predecessors and succeeded i n combining i t with C h r i s t i a n t e a c h i n g i n a way only exceeded i n b r e a d t h by h i s s t u - dent Aquinas. A l b e r t was not taken i n by the f o l k l o r e of the popular " B e a s t i a r i e s " of the time, but encouraged c r i t i c a l s t u - dy of the n a t u r a l s c i e n c e s and drew d e f i n i t e boundaries between magic and s c i e n c e , s a y i n g : "The aim of the n a t u r a l s c i e n c e s i s not merely to accept the statements made by others, but to i n v e s t i g a t e the causes which are at work i n n a t u r e . " The sources of h i s student Thomas' work and thought show him to have been the most e r u d i t e o f the e r u d i t e schoolmen. But h i s e r u d i t i o n was not l e f t to c o l l e c t dust i n separate small cubby-holes i n h i s mind, but was used r a t h e r to c o n s t r u c t an en- ormous s y n t h e s i s , "a s e v e r e l y p h i l o s o p h i c a l and t h e o l o g i c a l i n - t e r p r e t a t i o n of the u n i v e r s e , " 9. 9. T . G i l b e y , " P o e t i c Experience; an i n t r o d . to Thomistic A e s t h e t i c " 'frondbn:ik She ed. &i ,C a9 34 • - 4 5 - Thamas had read h i s A r i s t o t l e completely and w e l l . In h i s commentaries on A r i s t o t l e he used the t r a n s l a t i o n s from the Greek i n t o L a t i n of W i l l i a m of Moerbeke r a t h e r than the Arabian t r a n s l a t i o n s then a r r e n t . He used the P l a t o n i c theory of Ideas as i n t e r p r e t e d by Augustine. He knew the p h i l o s o p h y of Boethius, of the contemporary and e a r l i e r Arabian and Jewish w r i t e r s . He knew the s c r i p t u r e by h e a r t . He had read the church f a t h e r s . : Ambrose, Augustine,Jerome,John Damascene,Pseudo-Dionysius,Hilary of P o i t i e r s , G r e g o r y the G r e a t , I s i d o r e of S e v i l l e , S t . J o h n Chrysos- t u m , S t . C y r i l of A l e x a n d r i a . He knew the e a r l i e r s c h o l a s t i c s :An- selm of Canterbury,Rupert of Deutz,Bernard of C l a i r v a u x , G i l b e r t de l a P o r r e , Hugh and R i c h a r d of S t . V i c t o r , J o a c h i m of Flora,Ab- e l a r d , A l a i n de L i l l e and P e t e r the Lombard whose "Pour Books of Sentences" c o l l e c t the o p i n i o n s of the Church F a t h e r s on C h r i s - t i a n t e a c h i n g . Aquinas c o n s t a n t l y quotes h i s contemporaries of the 13th century as "quidam", a c e r t a i n one, though not a l l of these r e f e r e n c e s have been i d e n t i f i e d . A l s o he quotes e x t e n s i v e - l y from Horace, O v i d , C a e s a r , C i c e r o , S e n e c a , T e r r e n c e , S a l l u s t , L i v y , Strabo, and V a l e r i u s Maximus. Thomas1 method i s sometimes t h a t of the church f a t h e r s i n h i s d i v i s i o n s i n t o books and chapters, sometimes t h a t of a s u s t a i n e d reasonimg p r o c e s s , and sometimes that r i g i d mold of the s c h o l a s t i c s f a s h i o n e d c h i e f l y by Alexander H a l l e s , each sub- j e c t being d i v i d e d i n t o questions,each q u e s t i o n i n t o so many a r t - i c l e s ; each a r t i c l e begins w i t h a statement of o b j e c t i o n s , d i s - cusses v a r i o u s o p i n i o n s , e s t a b l i s h e s the author's position, and c l o s e s w i t h a s o l u t i o n of d i f f i c u l t i e s which that p o s i t i o n may en- -46- counter. 10. For example, the "Summa T h e o l o g i c a " i s d i v i d e d i n t o tnree p a r t s , 38 t r e a t i s e s , 6 3 1 questions,3000. a r t i c l e s , and 10,000 o b j e c t i o n s . In c o n s i d e r i n g Thomas' s t y l e , one must, i f one knows i t b e s t i n t r a n s l a t i o n , make allowance f o r the i n t e r p o l a t i o n of the t r a n s l a t o r between the reader and the o r i g i n a l form of h i s thought. Thomas G i l b e y i n h i s book speaks of the"vastness of conception","coherence of p a r t s and i m p r e g n a b i l i t y of l o g i c " , and i n Thomas' v e r y words there seems to be a q u i e t c l a r i t y , a r e v e r b e r a t i o n . In the Thomistic synthesis, there i s c e r t a i n l y a v a s t n e s s of c o n c e p t i o n . Of i t s o r i g i n a l i t y Brennan has t h i s to say... "The f a c t i s t h a t Aquinas took the m a t e r i a l s f o r h i s sys- tem from whatever source he could get them, so f a r as they l a y open to him, and what he c o n s t r u c t e d was a coherent e c l e c t i c i s m welded i n t o a u n i t y by the p r e s s u r e through- out i t s d e t a i l s of a s i n g l e g r e a t r u l i n g p r i n c i p l e which he had won by permanent hard t h i n k i n g , and h e l d w i t h the c l e a r e s t consciousness of i t s i m p l i c a t i o n s . H i s t i t l e , t h e r e f o r e to o r i g i n a l i t y i s a r e a l one," 11. T h i s s i n g l e r u l i n g p r i n c i p l e Thomas s t a t e s h i m s e l f thus: "Nothing may be a s s e r t e d as true t h a t i s opposed t© the t r u t h of f a i t h , to r e v e a l e d dogma. But i t i s n e i t h e r per- m i s s i b l e to take whatever we h o l d to be true and p r e s e n t i t as an a r t i c l e of f a i t h . For the t r u t h of our f a i t h be- comes a matter of r i d i c u l e among the i n f i d e l s , i f any C a t h o l i c not g i f t e d w i t h the necessary s c i e n t i f i c l e a r n - i n g , p r e s e n t s as dogma what s c i e n t i f i c s c r u t i n y shows to be f a l s e . " 12. T h i s g i g a n t i c e d i f i c e i s b u i l t on the two-fold c o n v i c - t i o n that..."Our thought can know and a t t a i n being, the realm of the essences, causes, purposes and laws, t h a t l i e be- yond the world of appearances...a c o n v i c t i o n of the r e a l - i t y and k n o w a b i l i t y of the supersensory orders...and end- l e s s h o r i z o n of the s u p e r n a t u r a l , of the C h r i s t i a n myster- i e s r e v e a l e d by God, en h o r i z o n that i s even here on e a r t h opened to man by means of the l i g h t of f a i t h " , and 13 the second h a l f of t h i s c o n v i c t i o n i s the o b j e c t i v e nature of knowledge, based as i t i s on the sensory experience of human be- -47- i n g s . Thomas h i m s e l f says..."That of which we are p r i m a r i l y aware i s the e x t e r n a l o b j e c t , of which the s p e c i e s i s the mental s i g n . Only s e c o n d a r i l y can we speak of the . i n t e l l i g i b l e s p e c i e s as a content of thought, i n so f a r e,s the mind i s r C L e x l y a c t i v e and contemplates i t s own a c t i v i t y , and thus a l s o the s p e c i e s , as the p r i n c i p l e of t h i s a c t i v i t y " . 14 e But though he g i v e s us an o b j e c t i v e l y r e a l r e a l i t y as the b a s i s of our conceptual knowledge Aquinas s t i l l assumes a s u b j e c t i v e c h a r a c t e r f o r human thought..."That which we d e s i g - nate by names can be d i v i d e d i n t o three G l a s s e s . The f i r s t c l a s s comprises those t h i n g s that are o u t s i d e the mind i n t h e i r e n t i r e being (e.g. stone, man)...the sec- ond c l a s s i s formed of the t h i n g s that e x i s t only i n our mind , as dreams, images o f chimera,etc...To the t h i r d c l a s s belong those t h i n g s that have a f o u n d a t i o n i n the r e a l i t y o u t s i d e the mind, but r e c e i v e t h e i r own formal c h a r a c t e r from the a c t i v i t y of the mind. Such are the g e n e r a l concepts," 15. Thomas d e f i n e s b e i n g as e x i s t i n g , and a f f i r m s the r e a l - i t y of o b j e c t s i n the external world which we know through the operation of the senses and our reason, but the realm of the s u p e r n a t u r a l i s known to us only through r e v e l a t i o n and f a i t h , Aquinas upheld the harmony between reason and f a i t h a g a i n s t the A v e r r o i s t i c heresy s t a r t e d by Averroes of Cordova (d.1198) who claimed there c o u l d be no p e r s o n a l i m m o r t a l i t y , as the i n d i v i d - u a l s o u l was a m a t e r i a l t h i n g , and consequently there could only be c o l l e c t i v e immortsliiy through the c o n t i n u i n g race of man as a whole; Averroes h e l d a l s o that there might be 'double t r u t h 1 , whereby a statement c o u l d be p h i l o s o p h i c a l l y true and y e t f a l s e from the standpoint of f a i t h , or v i c e v e r s a , Thomas con- tended t h a t f a i t h which was s u p r a - r a t i o n a l cannot be proved or d i s p r o v e d by reason, but i s true because i t comes from the h i g h - 10. E.Pace,"Thomas Aquinas",vol.2 of " L i b r a r y of World's Best L i t " 11. R.E.Brennan,"General Psych.".N.Y.Macmillans,1937,pps.13-4. 12. Thomas Aquinas "De P o t e n t i a " , w r i t t e n 1260-1268. 13. Brennan,op.cit., 14. Aquinas,"Summa Theologica",I,q.85,a.2. -48- e s t t r u t h , God, and i s not a g a i n s t reason, s i n c e i t cannot be f a l s e . G i l s o n c h a r a c t e r i z e s h i s thought i n these words... "His thought, t h e r e f o r e , does not aim a t a c h i e v i n g as e c o n o m i c a l l y as p o s s i b l e a s u p e r f i c i a l harmony wherein the d o c t r i n e s most e a s i l y r e c o n c i l a b l e w i t h the t r a d i - t i o n a l t e a c h i n g of theology may f i n d room, but he i n s i s t s that Reason should develop i t s own content i n f u l l l i b - e r t y and should set out i t s demands i n t h e i r utmost s t r i n g e n c y ; the value of h i s p h i l o s p h y does not l i e i n the f a c t t h a t i t i s C h r i s t i a n but t h a t i t i s t r u e . . I n t h i s l i e s the whole s e c r e t of Thomism, i n the immense e f f o r t of i n t e l l e c t u a l honesty to r e c o n s t r u c t p h i l o s p h y on a p l a n which e x h i b i t s the de f a c t o accord o w i t h theology as the necessary consequence of the demands of Reason i t s e l f , and as the a c c i d e n t a l r e s u l t of a mere wish f o r r e c o n c i l i a t i o n . " 16~ The t h i r d great i n t e l l e c t of the 13th century i s that of Roger Bacon who, as Aquinas and A l b e r t u s Magnus, a t t a c k e d the i d e a of s l a v i s h acceptance of a u t h o r i t y , which he d e c l a r e d to be a stumbling-block i n s c i e n c e , f o r s c i e n c e can o n l y be a t t a c k - ed p r o f i t a b l y from the p o i n t of view of i n d u c t i o n from observ- a t i o n , which he o u t l i n e s i n h i s "Opus Majus". D u r i n g the next two c e n t u r i e s , the 14th and 15th, the p r a c t i c e of S c h o l a s t i c i s m g r a d u a l l y d e c l i n e d , though i t s i n t e l l - e c t u a l mold was not completely broken then, and was not outgrown u n t i l D e s c a r t e s ( 1 6 5 0 ) . With Duns Scotus and W i l l i a m of Ockham we see i t b e g i n n i n g to doubt.•William accepted the p o s i t i o n of Abelard's "Conceptualism" - only i n d i v i d u a l t n i n g s ( r e s ) e x i s t , and g e n e r a l concepts ( u n i v e r s a l i a ) are only formed i n the mind and, being s u j e c t i v e pnenomena, have no e x i s t e n c e out of the mind. 15. Thomas, I Sent. d. 19. q. 5, a. 1. 16, E.Gilson,"The P h i l . o f St.Thomas Aquinas", quoted i n Grab- Mann's "Thomas Aquinas",pps. 8 9 - 9 0 , -49- The i d e a of i m m o r t a l i t y was a l s o c h a l l e n g e d "by Averroes as has been mentioned, and i n a d d i t i o n to these doubts there arose a new m y s t i c a l pantheism which not only saw God i n a l l t h i n g s , b u t a l s o averred t h a t God was, a l l t h i n g s . The German m y s t i c s , Meis- t e r Eckhart (d.1327) and Thomas a Kempis (d.1471) saw man's su- preme happiness i n h i s u n i f i c a t i o n with God, which the l a t t e r wrote about g l o w i n g l y i n a book much used bu the church, "The I m i t a t i o n of C h r i s t " . But the drama of s a l v a t i o n of man's immortal s o u l was the u n i f y i n g p r i n c i p l e v i s i b l e i n a l l medieval thought. As Thomas Aquinas taught, the t r u t h of r e l i g i o n could not be d i s c r e d i - ted by the t r u t h of s c i e n c e or p h i l o s o p h y s i n c e i n e v e r y t h i n g was v i s i b l e t h i s u n i t y of purpose, the attainment of t r u t h . T h i s u n i t y of purpose i s the s t r i k i n g t r a i t i n a l l the a r t - o b j e c t s l e f t from t h i s p e r i o d , as i t i s the most c h a r a c t e r - i s t i c mental a t t i t u d e of the w r i t i n g of the age, and whether with Spengler, you c a l l t h i s p r i n c i p l e one of D e s t i n y , or with - the more orthodox h i s t o r i a n s of c u l t u r e , one of r e l i g i o u s u n i t y of purpose, i t i s the main i d e a with which one shoufi. approach the p e r i o d from the 12th century onwards, when the d i s o r d e r of the e a r l y f e u d a l p e r i o d (850-1000) was over, and the growth of p o p u l a t i o n i n g e n e r a l , and s p e c i f i c a l l y the growth of urban p o p u l a t i o n , had focussed the d i s c o v e r y of Greek s c i e n c e and philosophy, and the r e v i v a l of the study of Roman law , on the complete e n u n c i a t i o n of a new and d i f f e r e n t way of t h i n k i n g and l i v i n g . Before going on to t a l k i n d e t a i l of the development of -50- v a r i o u s a r t e through the stages of western c u l t u r e to the p r e s - ent, I would l i k e to supply here f o r r e f e r e n c e a c h a r t showing the "sequence of hlooming of the main a r t s i n (some) g r e a t c u l t u r e s " taken from Sorokin's " S o c i a l Dynamics". The scores w i l l semm a r b i t r a r y , as they ignore the p a r a l l e l development i n a l l the a r t s i n p e r i o d s of c u l t u r a l r i c h e s s e . But i n a survey of the stages through which.the v a r i o u s a r t s pass from the p o i n t of view of content, Sorokin has a more v a l u a b l e s c a l e of h i s own, as i s e x e m p l i f i e d i n the l a t e r q u o t a t i o n g i v i n g h i s c r i t i q u e of c u l t u r a l f l u c t u a t i o n of form i n music.( Note 18.) 1 Greece Music 750-600 B.C. L i t e r a t u r e . 5 2 4 - 4 5 0 Architecture,500-430 Sculpture..450-350 Painting...430-350 Rome L i t e r a t u r e . . . 8 6 - 2 5 B.C. S c u l p t u r e . . . . 30-69A.D. P a i n t i n g 50-108 Architecture.60-138 Music 466-495 Germany: Architecture..1130-1250A.D. S c u l p t u r e 1400-1500 P a i n t i n g 1491-1559 Music 1720-1880 Literature....1756-1850 -England Architecture..1272-1377 Literature....1573-1618 Music 1600-1675 P a i n t i n g 1717-1763 S c u l p t u r e 1758-1787 I t a l y Literature..1290-1333 A.D. Architecture.1444-1564 P a i n t i n g 1472-1548 Music 1560-1800 Sculpture....1500-1600 France Architecture..1150-1350 S c u l p t u r e 1200-1250 Music ....1652-1700 P a i n t i n g 1760-1853 Literature....177931895." 17. "The movement of medieval and modern music cam be char- a c t e r i z e d from the satndpoin& of forms d i s c u s s e d as f o l l o w s : (1) On the highway of .the g r e a t music, the medieval music d u r i n g almost nine hundred y e a r s ( from about the f i f t h cen- t u r y A.D. to the f o u r t e e n t h ) was e i t h e r e x c l u s i v e l y Idea- t i o n a l , or (from the 12th to the 14th) predominantly so. (2) The I d e a t i o n a l i t y of t h i s music was of the p u r e s t and most sublime. 17.Sorokin , o p . c i t . , V o l . 1 " F l u e t u a t i o n s of Forms of Art",1937, American Book Co. -51- (3) Up to the end of the 11th century, I d e a t i o n a l music was almost the only grand music e x i s t i n g ; a f t e r the end of that century there appeared the f i r s t s i g n s of the mixture w i t h Sensate, i n the music of the troubadours,trouveres,and minnesanger, and other forms of s e c u l a r music, which had ac- q u i r e d many t r a i t s of the Sensate. A f t e r that t i m e , t h i s stream of Sensate music - not without f l u c t u a t i o n s - tended to i n c r e a s e , i n the form of s e c u l a r motets,madrigals, and l a t e r on, i n the 'ars nova', and then i n that of the sym- phonies, operas,musical comedies, and so on. The growing sen- s a t i z a t i o n of music manifested i t s e l f i n the Sensate mus- i c a l m e n t a l i t y , i n the r a p i d i n c r e a s e of Sensate m u s i c , i n i t s t e c h n i c a l forms, i n i t s themes, i n the occasions f o r which i t was w r i t t e n , i n the s o c i a l events which i t immor- t a l i z e d . In b r i e f , i n the i n n e r nature as w e l l as i n the e x t e r n a l t r a i t s . (4) In c o n t r a d i s t i n c t i o n to some other forms of a r t , e s p - e c i a l l y p a i n t i n g and s c u l p t u r e , w h i c h a t t a i n e d the marvellous I d e a l i s t i c phase i n the 13 and 14th c e n t u r i e s , music seems to have reached the I d e a l i s t i c stage somewhat l a t e r : a r o u n d the 16th and lttth.and p a r t l y i n the 18th ( P a l e s t r i n a , V i t t o r - ia,Bach,Handel,Mozart,and Beethoven) when these forms were w o n d e r f u l l y blended i n r e s u l t e d i n the m i r a c l e of t h i s music. (5) A f t e r the b e g i n n i n g of the 19th C. the Sensate begins to dominate more and more r a d i c a l l y . In the music of Wagner and other Romantics, i t p o s s i b l y reached i t s peak. A f t e r t h a t and e s p e c i a l l y a f t e r the end of the 19th G. I t began to show a l l the s i g n s of d i s o r g a n i z a t i o n , d e m o r a l i z a t i o n , a n d degener- a t i o n which has been c o n t i n u i n g up to the present t i m e . I t witnesses on the one hand an u t t e r d e g r a d a t i o n , v u l g a r i z a t i o n , " j a z z i n g " , and m o d e r n i s t i c - i m p r e s s i o n i s t i c m u s i c a l anarchy and i m p o t e n c y * ( i n s p i t e of the g i g a n t i c s k i l l and t e c h n i c a l complexity of many modern compositions); and on the other hand, i t e x h i b i t s the f i r s t s i g n s of the e f f o r t s to seek new,anti-Sensate forms of music. Thus s c h e m a t i c a l l y : (a) The p e r i o d from the f i f t h to the t w e l f t h C. i s t h a t of the m o n o p o l i s t i c domination of the pure sublime I d e a t i o n - a l music;(b) the p e r i o d from the 12th to the 15th C. i s the time of the entrance of Sensate music,but s t i l l d e f i n i t e l y i n the secondary p l a c e ; ( c ) the p e r i o d of the end of the 15th to the b e g i n n i n g of the 19th C. was that of balance, of the I d e a t i o n a l arid Sensate music; (d) the 19th C. i s the p e r i o d of d e c i s i v e domination of Sensate music, and the c l o s e r we come to tfe§ 2oth. C. the s t r o n g e r i t becomes; (e) the pres- ent age i s showing the f i r s t symptoms of r e c e s s i o n of Sensate m u s i c . . T h i s r e a c t i o n a g a i n s t Sensate music i s v e r y s i m i l a r to that a g a i n s t V i s u a l i s m i n p a i n t i n g , s c u l p t u r e and a r c h i - t e c t u r e . " 18. Sorokin goes on to s u b s t a n t i a t e these statements by con- s i d e r i n g i n d i v i d u a l works of m u s i c a l a r t w i t h i n each of these 18.Sorokin,op.cit.,pps.567-569. -52- p e r i o d s : (a) Church chants, the Amhrosian, then the Gregorian, then r e l i g i o u s hymns and psalmodies. Of these the most widely known today are the Gregorian chants, which c o n s i s t of ahout 300 I n t r o i t s and Communions , one hundred Graduals, one hundred A l - l e l u i a s , twenty T r a c t s , and one hundred O f f e r t o r i e s , i n which we can s t i l l hear the church i d e a l of o t h e r w o r l d l i n e s s , i n the l a c k of i n s t r u m e n t a l or t e c h n i c a l adornment. For (h) Sorokin c i t e s the appearance of the songs of the troubadours and t r o u v e r e s , and i n Germany, of the minnesanger. T h i s music though based on f o l k legends, i s not f o l k - m u s i c , l a c k - i n g i t s i n t e l l e c t u a l s i m p l i c i t y . T h i s music was s t i l l h i g h l y sym- b o l i c b u t the complex and sensuously p l e a s i n g form and the s u b j e c t of p h y s i c a l and Romantic beauty and l o v e was new and s e c u l a r , though the m u s i c a l form employed was s t i l l v e r y s i m i l a r to the Ohants , i n the Chansons d ' h i s t o i r e , d r a m a t i q u e , d e danee; i n the r e v e r i e , the p a s t o r e l l e , i n the chansons c o u r t o i s e s , and debats. The i d e a l of p h y s i c a l l o v e and beauty which entered west- ern a r t as a major m o t i v a t i n g f o r c e i n a r t f o r the f i r s t time w i t h the appearance of the P r o v e n c a l b a l l a d s has never s i n c e completely l e f t i t , and i n aany m o d i f i e d forms remains as one of the most important m o t i v a t i n g f o r c e s i n a r t - e x p r e s s i o n today. Not o n l y music i t s e l f showed t h i s change i n emphasis . . . b u t the t h e o r i z e r s , the w r i t e r s of m u s i c a l a e s t h e t i c s , a l s o i n d i c a t e d t h i s s h i f t . The medieval t h e o r e t i c i a n s had f o l l o w e d the l i n e of B o e t h i u s , whereas those of the next p e r i o d : Guido d'Arezzo(ca.1005),Walter Odington of Oxford,Adam de l a H a l l e , (1240-1287) a l l show the new a t t e n t i o n to m u s i c a l d e t a i l of form -53- ,to make i t r i c h e r and more sensuously pleasing.The t e c h n i c a l changes of the s h i f t i n emphasis are noted by Sorokin to be : " A f t e r the 13th C. i t becomes 'measured',quite a symbolic phenomena i n i t s s i g n i f i c a n c e ; i t developed polyphony; i t produced and developed c o u n t e r p o i n t , . t h e 15th C. being the 'golden age'; i t i n t r o d u c e d and c u l t i v a t e d the r i c h e s t var- i e t y of rhythms; then developed harmony and ' v e r t i c a l ' w r i t - i n g i n s t e a d of h o r i z o n t a l ; began a r t i s t i c a l l y to use i n t e n s - i t y - piano, f o r t e , e t c . ; achieved wonderful p e r f e c t i o n i n the use of chromatics, consonances, dissonances; tended to become more and more e x p r e s s i v e ; i n t r o d u c e d and expanded and p e r f e c t e d i n s t r u m e n t a l music, and blended i t w i t h v o c a l ; enlarged the s c a l e of the choruses as w e l l as that of the o r c h e s t r a ; combined the sound impression w i t h the v i s u a l i n form,colour,and motion...The trend was g e n e r a l f o r Eur- opean c u l t u r e . " 19. In SorQfei'Rt-s s e c t i o n (c) s e c u l a r i z a t i o n had proceeded so f a r as to be a c t u a l l y a f f e c t i n g cnurch music i t s e l f , which was becoming i n c r e a s i n g l y i n s t r u m e n t a l l y and t e c h n i c a l l y d e v e l - oped, u s i n g Sorokin's t e r m , i n c r e a s i n g l y 'Sensate 1 . Examples i t i s p o s s i b l e to l i s t f o r t h i s are numerous S Johann S e b a s t i a n Bach's "Mass",, a St.Matthew Passion","St.John P a s s i o n " ; P a l e s t r i - na's "Masses"; Beethoven's "Missa Solemnis",Mozart*s "Requiem Mass", B e r l i o z 1 "Tuba Mirum". In l i n e w i t h t h i s f a c t i s the other that Bach,Mozart,Handel and Beethoven, to name the g r e a t e s t , u s e d s i m i l a r themes and techniques i n t h e i r r e l i g i o u s and s e c u l a r music. The i n c r e a s i n g l y ornate and t h e a t r i c a l music of s e c t i o n ( d ) f o l l o w i n g on t h i s , i s shown i n the works of Wagner, e s p e c i a l l y i n the dramatic use he made of the legend of the •Niebelungen- l i e d " . I n t h i s p e r i o d developed a l s o what Sorokin c a l l s 'quanti- t a t i v e c o l o s s a l i s m ' , shown i n the g r a d u a l i n c r e a s e i n the s i z e of i n s t r u m e n t a l groups employed..."Prom seven s i n g e r s i n the 19,Sorokin, op.cit.,pps.572-3 • -54- Gregorian chants of the Gregorian 'Schola', from f o u r and twenty f o r P a l e s t r i n a ' s music, from some t h i r t y to s i x t y instruments i n the r e g u l a r o r c h e s t r a s of Bach and Mozart, the o r c h e s t r a s of the 19th and 20th C. have c e r t a i n l y grown to be c o l o s s a l " . 21. being normally from one hun- dred to one hundred and twenty i n s i z e . T h i s same trend towards extremity i n s i z e i s matched i n one of e x t r e m i t y i n the t e c h n i - c a l l y complex texture of the music, f o r example, i n S t r a v i n s k y ' s "Sacre du Printemps", i n Schoenberg's " G u r r e l i e d e r " , or S t r a u s s ' " S i n f o n i a Domestica"; and a l s o i s matched by the g r a d u a l l y grow- complexity and e m o t i o n a l i t y of the ' p l o t ' m a t e r i a l f o r comic and 'genre' music, i n opera and m u s i c a l comedy, and i n the impression- i s t i c music of Debussy. F i n a l l y , i n the p e r i o d of today, s e c t i o n ( e ) , there i B a rupture w i t h the v a l u e s of Sensate a r t i n the re- a c t i o n toward I d e a t i o n a l music of such men as Honegger and other 'Cubists i n music', A s i m i l a r development of the other a r t s , e x h i b i t i n g these phases of (a) church or r e l i g i o u s domination i n theme and form; (b) of g r a d u a l l y growing s e c u l a r i z a t i o n i n both; (c) of a harmony e s t a b l i s h e d at d i f f e r e n t times i n the d i f f e r e n t a r t s between the two f o r c e s ; and f i n a l l y , showing the (d) almost completely s e c u l a r a r t of the present, w i l l now be undertaken, i n the order f o r each p e r i o d : A r c h i t e c t u r e , S c u l p t u r e , P a i n t i n g , L i t e r a t u r e . I t i s needless, perhaps, to p o i n t out that we do not f o l l o w h e r e , e x a c t l y , t h e Sorokin s c a l e of change, and that i * i s used r a t h e r t o suggest the whole flow of change through t h i s l o n g p e r i o d . The changes to be noted i n terms other than h i s w i l l be commented on from time to time, pointing- out the i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of such change i n terms of the p o i n t of view t h i s t h e s i s has been attempting to e s t a b l i s h . 21.Sorokin, op. c i t . , pps.583„ -55- The e a r l i e s t form of church a r c h i t e c t u r e , borrowing from the Roman b a s i l i c a s , was c a l l e d Romanesque, and Churches i n t h i s s t y l e were c o n s t r u c t e d between 1000 and 1200 A.D. , among the most famous of which s t i l l extant are the C a t h e d r a l of P i s a , completed i n 1093, end the Abbey Church of Cluny, consecrated i n 1131. The former of these, that at P i s a , d i s p l a y s the t y p i c a l r e c t a n g u l a r form w i t h a nave and double a i s l e s . A f l a t wooden c e i l i n g covers the nave, but on account of the dangers of f i r e the a i s l e s are covered only by stone v a u l t i n g , and there i s a low dome where the nave and t r a n s e p t s meet. The nave i s f l a n k e d by two rows of 34 columns each, and from these s p r i n g round a r c h - es c o n s t r u c t e d on the a r c of the h a l f - c i r c l e which h e l p bear up the heavy masonry s u p p o r t i n g the r o o f of the c e n t r a l p a r t . A B e l l Tower s t a n d i n g s l i g h t l y behind the church sagged i n time and has become known as the ' l e a n i n g tower' of P i s a . The Abbey at Cluny was i n f l u e n t i a l , s i n c e the order com- p r i s e d an e x t e n s i v e group of monasteries, and helped promote c u l t u r a l a c t i v i t y . The church was l a r g e , w i t h the u s u a l nave,dou- b l e a i s l e s and t r a n s e p t s , w i t h an ambulatory around the c h o i r and apse, and i t boasted a spacious a t r i u m . Over i t s main cross- i n g there was a quadrangular tower. The use of r i b b e d v a u l t i n g made i t ... ̂ Possible to r e s t the heavy r o o f on c e r t a i n p o r t i o n s of the w a l l s where there were c l u s t e r s of columns, and i n the l a t e r Romanesque churches i t was thus p o s s i b l e to d i s c a r d the t i n y s l i t - l i k e windows, and have wide windows i n - t h e c l e r e s t o r y and i n the s i d e w a l l s of the a i s l e s . -56- Gothic a r c h i t e c t u r e d e r i v e s from t h i s Romanesque s t y l e , chan- g i n g the a r c h from the arc of the h a l f - c i r c l e to the t y p i c a l p o i n t e d one, which enabled a r c h i t e c t s to l i g h t e n the weight of the roof, s i n c e on the p r e v i o u s h a l f - c i r c l e p r i n c i p l e there was a f i x e d r e l a t i o n always between the h e i g h t of the r o o f and the d i s t a n c e between the w a l l s . The Gothic s t y l e a l s o used the r i b b e d v a u l t i n g employed by the l a t e Romanesque, which w i t h the p o i n t e d a r c h and the use of columns p e r m i t t e d the r a i s i n g of the r o o f to a very g r e a t h e i g h t i n c r e a s i n g |he h e i g h t of the d e r e s t o r y . The use of a group of columns or p i l a s t e r s to support the r o o f l e f t the w a l l s a v a i l - able f o r d e c o r a t i v e use i n windows of g r e a t beauty which f l o o d - ed the c e n t r a l p o r t i o n of the church and the nave w i t h l i g h t . There are b u i l d i n g s extant which combine the f e a t u r e s of the two p e r i o d s , f o r example the B e n e d i c t i n e abbey church of St.Den- i s n o r t h of P a r i s , which s t i l l uses the round arches i n the f a - cade. C a t h e d r a l s a l s o belong to t h i s t r a n s i t i o n a l p e r i o d , those at Noyon,Chartres,Senlis b e i n g examples, w i t h the t r a n s i t i o n be- coming g r a d u a l l y more completely to Gothic by the year 1 2 0 0 . The d i s p e r s i o n of t h i s type of architecture was f a c i l i t a t e d by the f a c t t h a t many orders of monks had head houses i n Prance and c a r r i e d the ideas to t h e i r l o c a l chapters, the C i s t e r c i a n s esp- e c i a l l y . But i n each country the s t y l e developed i t s own unique f e a t u r e s , the E n g l i s h having t h e i r s set i n lawns,with a s p i r e r i s i n g from a c e n t r a l c r o s s i n g , a n d massive towers as p a r t of the facade; the Flemish being c o n s t r u c t e d of b r i c k r a t h e r than the usual limestone; the I l a l i a n having a superabundance of decor- a t i o n (ex. the c a t h e d r a l at M i l a n ) ; the Spanish producing another - 5 7 - . unique v a r i a t i o n "by merging the Gothic w i t h the l o c a l Moorish ; the Germans f o l l o w i n g the French most c l o s e l y (ex. the C a t h e d r a l at Strasbourg, and the e a r l i e s t p a r t s of Cologne). Gothic a r c h i t e c t u r e ( s o - c a l l e d because c r i t i c s p r e f e r r e d the b u i l d i n g s of the Greco-Roman p e r i o d and wished to d i s d a i n the values of what they considered e a r l y b a r b a r i a n or " G o t h i c " a r t ) i s s t i l l v i s i b l e i n many f i n e p u b l i c b u i l d i n g s : the town h a l l a t Ypres, c a s t l e s l i k e those at Ghent and Venice, and others s c a t t e r e d over every country of Europe, and i n many p r i v a t e dwell- ings l i k e those l i n i n g whole s t r e e t s of Bruges today. Gothic as a s t y l e i s a l s o v i s i b l e i n the d e c o r a t i v e s c u l p - ture and p a i n t i n g f o r the b u i l d i n g s Q>t t h i s p e r i o d . During the Romanesque p e r i o d the c a t h e d r a l d e c o r a t i o n s i n the form of s c u l p t u r e d f i g u r e s were not l i f e l i k e , being done u s u a l l y without models, from memory or from other examples. But with Go- t h i c , s c u l p t u r e was used c r e a t i v e l y as the p r i n c i p l e s of a r c h i t e c - ture had a l s o been. A p u r e l y d e c o r a t i v e use of n a t u r a l i s t i c forms i s found i n t h e i r b e s t work, and though the f i g u r e s seem r a t h e r s t i f f they were done to stand i n n i c h e s and to harmonize w i t h the predominantly l i n e a r l i n e s of the b u i l d i n g . The treatment of the p r o p o r t i o n s , muscles, and f e a t u r e s i s g i v e n a v e r y l i f e l i k e ren- d i t i o n . T h i s treatment i n f l u e n c e d the s c u l p t u r e of I t a l y , i n the work of N i c c o l a and Giovanni Pisano (dl328) who carved p a n e l s f o r the p u l p i t s of the c a t h e d r a l s of P i s a and Sienna; and i n the pa- n e l s of G i o t t o f o r the campanile or b e l l - t o w e r of the c a t h e d r a l of Plorence, the Church of St.Mary of the Flower; and i n the s c u l p t u r e on the bronze doors of the B a p t i s t r y of San Giovanni i n f r o n t of the C a t h e d r a l of F l o r e n c e done by Andrea P i s a n o . - 5 8 - Painting at t h i s period was also r e l i g i o u s i n inspiration,the f i r s t a r t i s t s of n o r t h e r n Europe to make any p e r s o n a l l y noteworthy advance "being the F l e m i s h b r o t h e r s , Jan and Hubertus van E y c k ( d # ca.1440) who made m i n i a t u r e s i n books, g r a d u a l l y extending the s i z e of t h i l l u m i n a t i o n s u n t i l they crowded the t e x t o f f the page and i n t h i s we see the beginning of an independent form of p a i n t - i n g apart from m a n u s c r i p t s . T h e i r works i n o i l s are the f i r s t s u c c e s s f u l use of t h i s medium, e s p e c i a l l y so i n the a l t a r p i e c e , "The M y s t i c Lamb'', preserved i n the C a t h e d r a l of Ghent. A l s o i n the p a i n t i n g s of donors of r e l i g i o u s groups there begins a secu- l a r a r t of p a i n t i n g , of which Jan van Eyck's "Marriage of John A r n o l f i n i " i s a f i n e example.Continuing t h i s l i n e of Plemish a r t i s t s were Rogier van der Weyden (d.1464) and Hans Memling(d 1494), the l a s t of the group, I t a l i a n p a i n t i n g i n t h i s e a r l y p e r i o d was more i n f l u e n c e d by the Greek p a i n t e r s who had come from Byzantium than by the more p r o g r e s s i v e Gothic s p i r i t . o f F l a n d e r s . F l o r e n c e took the l e a d i n a development from t h i s , c o m b i n i n g w i t h the Gothic s p i r i t , f i r s t , n o t i c e a b l e i n the work of Cimabue (d.1302 ?) and i n t h a t of h i s p u p i l , G i o t t o ( d . 1 3 3 6 ) . In these p a i n t i n g s though the technique s t i l l shows the i n f l u e n c e of the mosaic i n the r i g i d i t y of l i n e , the composition and d e t a i l s of the f i g u r e s are more n a t u r a l i s t i c , Cimabue*s " V i r g i n Enthroned" i n the U f f i z i , and the G i o t t o f r e s - coes on the l i f e of S t , F r a n c i s , at A s s i s s i , and i n the B a r d i cha- p e l i n the church of Santa Croce i n F l o r e n c e , and those on tne l i v e s of the B l e s s e d V i r g i n and Jesus i n the Arena Chapel of the C a t h e d r a l at Padua, are the g r e a t works of t h i s p e r i o d . The e a r l i e s t medieval. l i t e r a t u r e WS§ i n f l u e n c e d , b y fche L a t - i n , and indeed a g r e a t p a r t of i t , e s p e c i a l l y the r e l i g i o u s and p h i l o s o p h i c a l . t r e a t i s e s , were w r i t t e n i n L a t i n , hut with the 11th century there was f e l t a wave of l e g e n d - i n s p i r e d a c t i v i t y , r e s u l t - i n g i n l i t e r a t u r e w r i t t e n i n the language spoken l o c a l l y . In France, the chansons de geste, mentioned i n the s e c t i o n on mus- i c , show the great new i n t e r e s t i n s e c u l a r n a r r a t i v e , u s i n g the i - d e a l s of a f e u d a l f i g h t i n g s o c i e t y . The most famous, "The Song of Roland", was w r i t t e n j u s t a f t e r the f i r s t Crusade,(1096-1099), and t e l l s the t a l e of Charlemagne .Is attempt to g a i n Spain away from the fflohammedansH, of h i s eventual peace with M a r s i l e , K i n g of Saragossa,and of the treacherous Ganelon who p l o t s Roland's d e s t r u c t i o n when he i s l e f t by Charlemagne to command the r e a r - guard as he leaves Spain. I t concludes w i t h the a t t a c k on Roland at R o n c e v a l l e s . In the b a t t l e the v i r t u e s of courage and l o y a l - t y are descanted u p o n , e s p e c i a l l y l o y a l t y to one's f e u d a l l o r d , i n t h i s case the K i n g . . . "Man f o r h i s l o r d should s u f f e r g r e a t d i s - ease Most b i t t e r c o l d endure and burning heat, H i s h a i r and s k i n should o f f e r up at n e e d 8 The Gothic s p i r i t of d e v o t i o n , a l r e a d y commented upon, i s here expressed i n more s e c u l a r terms, as w e l l as i n the "Lay of the C i d " w r i t t e n i n Spain about 1140. With the 12th C. appears a new type of l i t e r a t u r e . The l a y s of the troubadours of Provence i n t r o d u c e a new theme i n to the l i t e r a t u r e of western Europe, one s t i l l w i d e l y p r e v a l e n t i n i t s use today, t h a t of Romantic Love. In t h i s p e r i o d the theme i s i d - e a l i z e d i n the person on the "Lady" f o r whom the k n i g h t perform- ed h i s k n i g h t l y duty, d e d i c a t i n g i t a l l to her, 2 2 ' C . . K . S c o t t - M o n c r i e f f , "The Song of K O I a n d c h a p m a n & Hall,London, l i n e s 1136-1138. - 6 0 - The l y r i c s w r i t t e n i n t h i s v e i n by the troubadours i n f l u e n c e d the c o u r t l y romances which were beginning to be w r i t t e n , u s i n g the legends of Arthur, those of Troy, and others w r i t t e n on these as models. C h r e t i e n de Troyes' " E r i e and E n i d e " , " Y v a i n " , and " L a n c e l o t " are the f i r s t of these u s i n g the conventions of • C o u r t l y Love 1 : love i n s p i r e d by the g r e a t p h y s i c a l beauty of the l a d y who a c c o r d i n g to the convention i s always m a r r i e d to someone e l s e , the earnest p r o t e s t a t i o n s of l o v e and d e s i r e to serve the l a d y , h e r acceptance of the d e v o t i o n and her t e s t i n g of the k n i g h t ' s l o y a l t y , and f i n a l l y her i n t i m a t e acceptance of the k n i g h t as her l o v e r . These conventions are based p a r t l y on the s e r i o u s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of Ovid's c y n i c a l advice to l o v e r s i n h i s "Ars Amatoris". There are however a p p r e c i a b l e d i f f e r e n c e s i n the conventions he s e t s out and those employed by the w r i t e r s of the C o u r t l y Komances, and these d i f f e r e n c e s are important as they show the c l o s e r e l a t i o n s h i p of l i t e r a t u r e to l i f e . Ovid's d e s c r i p t i o n of l o v e i s as a degrading p a s s i o n , and h i s conven- t i o n a l i z i n g the techniques of h a n d l i n g the s i t u a t i o n was a meth- od of s a t i r e , whereas the w r i t e r s of the medieval romances h e l d l o v e to be an ennobling emotion,and the s e r v i c e to the l a d y en- j o i n e d on the l o v e r the v i r t u e s of l o y a l t y and c h i v a l t y . The g r e a t w r i t e r s of t h i s p e r i o d are B o c c a c c i o and Dante i n I t a l y , and Chaucer and Langland i n England. There are others but to these f o u r a t t e n t i o n i s c a l l e d as i l l u s t r a t i v e of the t y p i c a l romance, and as i l l u s t r a t i v e of the new concept of i n d i v - i d u a l i t y , with l i t e r a t u r e l e a v i n g the stage of legendary e p i c , and speculating on the p s y c h o l o g i c a l r e a l i t i e s of p e r s o n a l i t y and bases of conduct. - 6 1 - B o c c a c c i o ' s " I I F i l o s t r a t o " i s a romance i n the s t y l e des- c r i h e d , i n which he s t a t e s i n his'proem' t h a t he i s w r i t i n g to counteract the p a i n of p a r t i n g from h i s own 'lady', and to des- c r i b e f o r her and f o r a l l the world the f e e l i n g he has, i n the words of P r i n c e T r o i l u s to h i s l o v e C r i s e y d e . The "Decameron", "Wherein are contained an hundred s t o r i e s i n ten days t o l d by Seven L a d i e s and Three Young Men" i s a c y c l e of t a l e s t o l d by a group of young nobles to while away the tedium of being s t r a n d - ed i n a country-house to a v o i d the ravages of the Plague, which i s d e s c r i b e d w i t h g r e a t r e a l i s m i n the •proem 1. T h i s c y c l e was a model f o r Chaucer's g r e a t one, "The Canterbury T a l e s " , and from B o c c a c c i o ' s "Teseide" c o n t a i n i n g g the legend of Thebes Chaucer t r a n s l a t e s w i t h numerous a d d i t i o n s i n h i s 'Knight's tale.' Boccaccio, l i k e Dante, ( h i s g r e a t and f a v o u r i t e exemplar), wrote i n I t a l i a n as i t was spoken i n h i s day. Dante A l i g h i e r i , 1265-1361, i s the w r i t e r who b e s t fuses the v a l u e s of r e l i g i o n , p h i l o s o p h y , o b s e r v a t i o n of the l i f e around him,the new theme of c o u r t l y l o v e , i n t o g r e a t works of a r t . In h i s "Vita. Nuova" he i d e a l i z e s the concept of c o u r t l y l o v e , emphasising i t s aspects of d e v o t i o n , i n s p i r a t i o n and s e r v i c e , and l e a v i n g i t s aspect of p h y s i c a l i n t i m a c y untouched. In "De V u l g a r i Eloquentia," he s t a t e s e x p l i c i t l y h i s views on the use of the mother-tongue i n l i t e r a - t u r e , showing the p a s s i n g of the supremacy of L a t i n as the l i t e r - ary and s c h o l a r l y language. Dante's g r e a t e s t work , the " D i v i n a Comedia" i s w r i t t e n i n a d i s t i n c t i v e s t a n z a , ' t e r z a r i m a 1 or t r i - p l e rhyme, and i s d i v i d e d i n t o three p a r t s , "Inferno","Purgator- i o " , and " P a r a d i s e " . In i t the Roman poet V i r g i l guides him through H e l l . a n d there Dante sees the sou!s of the d a m n e d . a n d through - 6 2 - p u r g a t o r y , f i n a l l y g i v i n g p l a c e to B e a t r i c e who guides him through P a r a d i s e , which s e c t i o n c o n t a i n s i m p l i c i t i n i t s survey the i n - t e l l e c t u a l h i s t o r y of the Middle Ages. G e o f f r e y Chaucer (dJ.400) a l s o f o l l o w e d the model of the c o u r t - l y romance, u s i n g i n the e a r l y bock of "Blanche the Duchesse" the poems of the French poet Guillaume Michaut and of the c h r o n i c l e r P r o i s s a r t ; t r a n s l a t i n g the g r e a t medieval legend of the 'Rose' i n h i s "Romaunt of the Rose"; r e t e l l i n g the s t o r y of Troy i n h i s " T r o i l u s and C r i s e y d e t r a n s l a t i n g the p h i l o s o p h y of Boethius i n h i s "Boece"; and coming under the i n f l u e n c e of the I t a l i a n w r i - t e r s l a t e r i n h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s from B o c c a c c i o , i n h i s reading of Dante,and i n h i s use of Ovid's m y t h o l o g i c a l "Metamorphoses" as source m a t e r i a l . The work of Chaucer's f u l l y developed genius i s h i s g r e a t s e r i e s of t a l e s ,"The Canterbury T a l e s " , which though perhaps suggested by B o c c a c c i o ' s use of the device i s so essen- t i a l l y o r i g i n a l and c r e a t i v e that even the p a r t s that s t a r t as t r a n s l a t i o n s have both t h e i r i d e a s and language so transmuted as to become p e c u l i a r l y h i s own. W i l l i a m Langland's " P i e r s Plowman" i s the work of a m o r a l i s t , p i c t u r i n g the s o c i a l , p o l i t i c a l , and r e l i g i o u s c o n d i t i o n s of the time and e x p r e s s i n g h i s d i s c o n t e n t w i t h l i f e l i v e d as i t was, s t r e s s i n g i t s moral i m p l i c a t i o n s and u r g i n g men to the good l i f e . With the Renaissance we reach a p e r i o d of l o o k i n g back to the c u l t u r a l achievements of Greece and Rome, shown f i r s t i n the a r c h - i t e c t u r e of B r u n e l l e s c h i i n I t a l y , where he completed the dome of the c i t y c a t h e d r a l of F l o r e n c e which had stood unroofed f o r a century, h i s s o l u t i o n being a r o o f 138£ f e e t i n diameter,using an -63- outer dome Gothic i n l i n e , and an i n n e r one saucer-shaped of stones f i t t e d together, which was an emulation of c l a s s i c a l b u i l d i n g and y e t an o r i g i n a l c r e a t i o n meeting c e r t a i n s p e c i f i c problems of d e s i g n and s t r u c t u r e . He a l s o b u i l t the "Foundling Home" i n F l o r e n c e f o r the S i l k G u i l d , the facade of which has a porch supported by a l o n g row of C o r i n t h i a n columns, i n the i n - t e r v a l s between which are Andrea D e l i a Robbia's t e r r a c o t t a "Bam- b i n i " . Another f e a t u r e of the a r c h i t e c t u r e of the time was the domestic p a l a c e , l i k e that of the M e d i c i , b u i l t by M i c h e l o z z o d i Bartelommeo Id.1472). A l b e r t i a l s o b u i l t i n the s t y l e of the clas' s i c a l p e r i o d u s i n g the Greek-cross p l a n w i t h f o u r equal arms i n - stead of the commonly used r e c t a n g u l a r c r o s s - f o r m f o r churches. F o l l o w i n g the s t y l e of the M e d i c i palace was t h a t b u i l t f o r the Farnese i n the 16th C. by Antonio da S a n g a l l e i n Home, and by Sansovina i n V e n i c e ; and Donate Bramante (1444-1514) c a r - r i e d the t r a d i t i o n of c l a s s i c a l i n f l u e n c e f u r t h e r i n h i s copy of the Roman Pantheon i n the s m a l l round church of Tempiette near the V a t i c a n . Bramante, Raphael,Michelangelo,and B e r n i n i ( i n the 16th C.) a l l worked on the enormous s t r u c t u r e of S t . P e t e r ' s a t Rome. The Roman t a s t e f o r l u x u r y and p l e a s u r e i n the ornate was a l s o copied, as i s p e r f e c t l y d i s p l a y e d i n the works of Vincenza's master b u i l d e r , P a l l a d i o ( d . l 5 8 0 ) who used what has become known as the ' P a l l a d i a n m o t i f , the use of s m a l l e r columns to c a r r y the arches inward from the outer order of l a r g e columns, an example being the facade f o r the town h a l l of V i n c e n z a . In p a i n t i n g I t a l y . a l s o l e d i n the e s t a b l i s h m e n t of new s t y l e s d u r i n g t h i s p e r i o d . In F l o r e n c e there were working Mass- accio(d.1428)..."Adam and Eve e x p e l l e d from P a r a d i s e " ; U c e l l o ( d . -64- 1475) w i t h a b i z a r r e hut p l a s t i c a l l y fused sense of design; An- drea d e l Castagna(d.1457).."Last Supper"; F r a F i l i p p o L i p p i ( d , 1469) u s i n g an e x o t i c n o n - n a t u r a l i s t i c c o l o u r and complex rhythm/' f o r example i n h i s " V i r g i n adoring the C h i l d " ; F r a A n g e l i c a l d . 1455) whose c h i e f value i s l i t e r a r y not p l a s t i c ; P i r o d e l l a Fran- cesco (d.1492) u s i n g a c o m p o s i t i o n ' p o w e r f u l l y welded by c o l o u r , c h i e f l y i n c o o l b l u e s , i n h i s " E x a l t a t i o n of the Cross"; B o t t i - c e l l i ^ . 1 5 1 0 ) , showing a rhythmic use of l i n e i n . such p a i n t i n g s as " A l l e g o r y of S p r i n g " ; Leonardo da Vinci(d.1519) whose f i n e sense of composition i s shown i n the "Adoration of the Magi" and i n nxs famous "Last .Supper", but who was a s c i e n t i s t r a t h e r than a sensuously o r i g i n a l c o l o u r i s t ; Michelangelo(d,1564) who used h i s s c u l p t u r a l i m a g i n a t i o n i n h i s a c c e n t u a t i o n of muscular con- t o u r s ; and Raphael(d.l520) who waB a f i r s t r a t e v i r t u o s o , but r e a l l y an e c l e c t i c . In Siena the t r a d i t i o n was one of exaggerated line,known sometimes as'Sienese droop', shown i n the l i n e s of d r a p e r i e s , i n the elongated whites of eyes and l i n e of l i d s , and i n the t r e a t - ment of rocks i n landscape. There was r e t a i n e d here Byzantine pat- t e r n s which were converted i n t o sinuous rhythms,by such a r t i s t s as Duccio d i Buoninsegna(d.l339) and U g o l i n o da Siena(d.l340) who resembles Duccio i n h i s naive d e l i c a c y , but has more movement and b r i g h t e r colour.- -- In Venice the t r a d i t i o n i s expressed i n the phrase,"Venetian glow",mentioning t h e i r glowing use of c o l o u r i n s t r u c t u r a l r e l a - t i o n to l i g h t , and r e a c h i n g a h i g h s t a t e of p i c t o r i a l a r t . T h i s i s shown i n the work of such men as : B e l l i n i (d.1516) whose per- -65- v a s i v e atmospheric use of c o l o u r d e r i v e s ffom Massaccio;Carpaceig (d.1525) whose "Dream of S t . U r s u l a " shows him to be one of the g r e a t e s t masters of space-composition; G i o r g i o n e ( d . l 5 1 0 ) i n whose " S l e e p i n g Venus" and "Two Prophets" i s shown a l y r i c beauty merg- i n g a l l the elements of form; T i t i a n ( d . l 5 7 6 ) u s i n g r i c h l y dappled s u r f a c e s of f l e s h i n " C h r i s t and Magdelene" and '"Assumption"; T i n t - oretto(d,1594) whose " A r t i s t ' s P o r t r a i t " , " P a r a d i s e " and "Susanna at the Bath" show use of areas of c o l o u r i n r i c h deep p o o l s i n c o n t r a s t w i t h areas of accentuated l i g h t ; Paolo Veronese(d.1588) whose work has a j e w e l - l i k e s i l v e r y enamelled t e x t u r e ; a l l of the Venetians indeed express the same mastery of space i n composition as that d i s p l a y e d by the m a s t e r - b u i l d e r s ' use of the f l y i n g but- t r e s s , and the c o n t r a p u n t a l technique i n the music of the p e r i o d . Continuing i n the F l e m i s h t r a d i t i o n i n the n o r t h were : Pe- truB C h r i s t u s (d.1473) whose "Marco B a r b a r i g o " and " D e p o s i t i o n from the C r o s s " show f i n e c o l o u r r e l a t i o n s and a sheen to t e x t u r e s ; D i r k Bouts'(d.1475) "Entombment" and " P o r t r a i t of a man" having r i c h c o l o u r and l i n e a r d e s i g n ; Hugo van der Goes(.1482) u s i n g a l i n e of r e f l e c t e d l i g h t to d e f i n e countours; and Hieronymous Bosch (d.1516) who renders the essence of any p l a s t i c s i t u a t i o n i n sa- t i r i c mastery. Other Flemish p a i n t e r s of the p e r i o d f o l l o w i n g were: Gerard David (d.1523) who shows a predominantly l i n e a r p a t t e r n i n h i s " C r u c i f i x i o n " ; .;' Joachim P a t i n i r ( d . l 5 2 4 ) . . " B a p t i s m of C h r i s t " ; Adrian Isenbrant (d.1551)-who shows a r i c h deep c o l o u r and f i n e c o m p o s i t i o n a l sense i n h i s " N a t i v i t y " ; L u c a s van Leyden(d.1533), who used c o l o u r i n r e l a t i o n . t o l i g h t i n h i s "Man's P o r t r a i t " and "The A d o r a t i o n of the M a g i " ; P i e t e r Brueghel(d.1569) who f o l l o w e d Bosch i n h i s i n t e n s e p s y c h o l o g i c a l r e a l i s m , and used c o l o u r mas- -66- t e r f u l l y i n such landscapes as "Harvesters", and a l s o used or- dered space i n such winter scenes as "Hunters"; Antonio Moro(d. 1578) adds to t h i s Flemish technique some of the c o l o u r q u a l - i t y of the V e n e t i a n s . The German s t y l e of t h i s p e r i o d drew i t s c o l o u r from the I t a l i a n s , h u t s t i l l used the l i n e a r r i g i d i t y of the Byzantine i n a charming naive q u a l i t y shown i n the work of:Stephen Loch- ner(d,1451).Barthel Bruyn(d.l555),Konrad von Soest(d.1404?).Ber- nard S t r i g e l ( d . 1 5 2 8 ) who begins to show an i n d i v i d u a l use-of c o l o u r i n unison w i t h l i g h t and a sharp l i n e ; Mathias Grunewald (d.1530) whose " C r u c i f i x i o n " and "Entombment" show a. m a s t e r f u l use of space and c o l o u r ; A l b r e c h t Durer(d.1528) who c r e a t e s a new form w i t h h i s w o n d e r f u l l y s u b t l e f l o w i n g c o l o u r shown i n "Erasmus","Girl's P o r t r a i t " , the B e r l i n "Madonna" and "Head of Woman"; Lucas Cranach the E l d e r (d,1553) who d i d p o r t r a i t s w i t h landscape backgrounds l i k e h i s "Judgment of P a r i s " ; Hans H o l b e i n (dil545)who ranks as a p o r t r a i t p a i n t e r and m i n i a t u r i s t w i t h the g r e a t e s t , as shown i n such works as h i s "Erasmus" and h i s r o y a l p o r t r a i t s . The French p r i m i t i v e s t y l e was a f u s i o n of the i n f l u e n c e s • from Italy,Germany, Spain and the I F l e m i s h t r a d i t i o n , r e s u l t i n g i n a form rooted i n that of the m i n i a t u r i s t s ; i n a c o l o u r not used s t r u c t u r a l l y , but l i g h t and d e l i c a t e l y •:> i v o r y i n tone;and i n drawing which seems a s u r v i v a l of the ByzanteBque i n I t s r i - g i d i t y , v i s i b l e i n works l i k e those of F r a n c i s Clouet(d.1572),Cbr- n e i l l e de Lyon(d.l575), and i n the b r o t h e r s Antione,Louis,and Ma- t h i e u l e Nain. The l i t e r a t u r e of the e a r l y f i f t e e n t h century shows the •-e d e c l i n e of medieval s o c i e t y and the emergence of the new bourge- o i s i e , and t h i s was marked by a backward-looking at .the f i n e i d e a l s of c h i v a l r y whose motive power was almost exhausted,for example,.: . the work of Malory whose "Morte d ' A r t h u r * was very popular,and the t h i s excerpt from the "Book of'Order of C h i v a l r y " by the E n g l i s h p r i n t e r Caxton which p l e a d s f o r a r e t u r n to the former i d e a l s . . . "0 ye k n i g h t s of England, where i s the custome and usage of noble c h i v a l r y that was used i n those days? What do ye now .!- but go to the baynes and p l a y at d i c e ? And some not w e l l ad- v i s e d use not honest and good r u l e a g a i n s t a l l order of knighthood. Leave t h i 3 , l e a v e i t , and read the noble volumes of S a i n t G r a a l , of L a u n c e l o t , of Gawayne.and many more. There s h a l l ye see manhood,courtesy,and g e n t l e n e s s * And look i n l a t - t e r days of the noble a c t e s w i t h the "^conquests as i n K i n g Richard's days Couer de Lyon, Edward the F i r s t , a n d the T h i r d , and h i s noble s o n s , S i r Robert K n o l l e s , S i r John Hawkwood,Sir John Chaundos and S i r Walter de Manny. Read E r o i s s a r t . "..23, There were c r i t i c s of the other aspects of s o c i e t y who wrote,as d i d Erasmus, c r i t i c i z i n g the education of the c l e r g y ; the Papal B u l l " E x e c r a b i l i s " (1460) put an end to the movement f o r reform w i t h i n the a d m i n i s t r a t i o n of the church brought on by the p r e a c h i n g of Buch men as W y c l i f f e ( d . l 3 8 4 ) , and r e - e s t a b l i s h e d pa- p a l a u t h o r i t y ; i n the m o r a l i t y p l a y s l i k e the English"Everyman" a b s t r a c t themes are d e a l t with, while the m i r a c l e p l a y s allowed the e x p r e s s i o n of r e a l experience w i t h i n the p a t t e r n of the B i b l e s t o r i e s . The most famous poet of t h i s p e r i o d i s the Frenchman, F r a n c o i s V i l l o n (d.1462?) whose s t r i k i n g B a l l a d e w r i t t e n when he was to be hanged w i t h f o u r others because of h i s vagrant t h i e v i n g l i f e has been t r a n s l a t e d by Wyndham Lewis thus... 23. Lucas,"A Short H i s t o r y of C i v i l i z a t i o n " . M c G r a w f H i l l ,N.Y.,1945, pps.498-99. — 68- "Men,brother men,that a f t e r us y e t l i v e , L e t not your h e a r t s too hard a g a i n s t us he; For i f some p i t y of us poor men ye g i v e . The sooner God s h a l l take of you p i t y . Here are wee f i v e or s i x strung up, you see, And here the f l e s h t h a t a l l too w e l l we f e d B i t by b i t , e a s t e n and r o t t e n , rent and shred, And we the bones grow dust and ash w i t h a l ; L e t no man laugh a t us d i s c o m f i t e d , But pray to God that he f o r g i v e us a l l . The r a i n has washed and laundered us a l l f i v e , And the sun d r i e d and blackened; yea,per d i e , Ravens and p i e s w i t h beaks that rend and r i v e Have dug our eyes out; and plucked o f f f o r fee Our beards and eyebrows; never we are f r e e Not once to r e s t ; but here and there s t i l l sped D r i v e n at i t s w i l d w i l l , by the wind's change l e d , More pecked by b i r d s than f r u i t s on garden-wall; Men, f o r God's s a k e , l e t no gibe here be s a i d , But pray to God that he f o r g i v e us a l l . " 24. The age of change ushered i n by the i n c r e a s e i n trade and r e v i v a l of the c l a s s i c a l l e a r n i n g brought many new i d e a s to , l i t e r a t u r e a l s o , one of the most i n f l u e n t i a l w r i t e r s of the per- i o d being NIccolo M a c h i a v e l l i (d.1527) whose p r a c t i c a l guide f o r p o l i t i c a l conduct,"The P r i n c e " w r i t t e n f o r the Duke Lorenzo de'Medici, shows a p o l i t i c a l r e a l i s m which has seldom been e q u a l l - ed, and a t the same time shows the humanist i d e a l of the c u l t u r e d c i t y - s t a t e l i f e of F l o r e n c e i n h i s time. An E n g l i s h p o l i t i c a l i d e a l i s t , i n c o n t r a s t to t h i s , was S i r Thomas More' whose "Utop- i a " c o n t a i n s both a c r i t i c i s m of the s t a t e as i t was and a des- c r i p t i o n of an i d e a l s t a t e . The most s i g n i f i c a n t w r i t e r of the French Renaissance was F r a n c i s R a b e l a i s . From h i s e a r l y education i n a monastic order which he entered at the age of seven and from which he ran away to study medicine at the u n i v e r s i t y of Montpel- l i e r , R a b e l a i s conceived a h a t r e d f o r the medieval r e l i g i o u s d i s - d i s c i p l i n e of the church, and he wrote h i s g r e a t "Gargantua and 24.Wyndham Lewis, op. c i t . -69- P a n t a g r u e l r t ( w r i t t e n i n the o r d i n a r y French of the day) i n a s p i r - i t of s a t i r e towards some of the e v i l s of h i s day, u s i n g l a n g - uage so c r e a t i v e l y that he g r e a t l y e n r i c h e d the spoken language. The " N i n e t y - f i v e Theses" of M a r t i n Luther (d.1546) a t t a c k - ed the p r a c t i c e s t i l l c u r r e n t f o r some time a f t e r t h i s of s e l l - de i n g indulgences, or pardons f o r s i n s , which Chaucer h a d ' p i c t e d so w e l l i n h i s "Pardoner", and Luther's "Open L e t t e r to the C h r i s - t i a n N o b i l i t y of the German Nation Concerning the Reform of the German State**, w r i t t e n i n German, and thoroughly understood by these p r i n c e s , produced among them a wave of sympathy f o r h i s t e a c h i n g about the r e l a t i o n of the s p i r i t u a l and temporal e s t a t e s * and a s t a t e - c o n t r o l l e d church r e s u l t e d i n most p a r t s of Germany. Though Luther was excomnunicated by the Pope i n 1521, Lutheranism continual to spread, e s p e c i a l l y among the peasants, to whom the d o c t r i n e of each man as h i s own ' p r i e s t 1 appealed, u n t i l the out- break of the Peasants' War i n 1525. In t h i s Luther's other d o c t r i n e of the s t a t e - c o n t r o l of botn s p i r i t u a l and and temporal matters caused him to advise the nobles to put down the u p r i s i n g with s e v e r i t y , thus checking the spread of Lutheranism among the pea- sants of S.Germany who remain C a t h o l i c to t h i s day. T h i s i d e a , of the s t a t e - c o n t r o l of p r i v a t e r e l i g i o n , was contested by the A n a b a p t i s t s , who were everywhere persecuted, t h e i r l e a d e r s b e i n g f r e q u e n t l y burned at the stake. The other i n f l u e n t i a l p r o t e s t a n t reformer of t h i s time was John C a l v i n , whose " I n s t i t u t e s of the C h r i s t i a n R e l i g i o n " was f i r s t p u b l i s h e d i n 1536 and contained a systematic arrangement of the whole body of d a t a about the C h r i s t i a n r e l i g i o n which he f e l t a C h r i s t i a n should Know, emphasizing r e a d i n g the B i b l e , a s God's word. -70- Th e C a t h o l i c Church a l s o conducted reforms at t h i s time, w i t h the formation of the " S o c i e t y of Jesus" hy I g n a t i u s L o y o l a , (dj.556) whose " S p i r i t u a l E x e r c i s e s " resembled Thomas a Kempis' " I m i t a t i o n of C h r i s t " i n i n t e n t . The J e s u i t s were a s e l e c t order many of whom were the c o n f e s s o r s of Kings and P r i n c e s , and thus gained power f o r t h e i r s o c i e t y , t h o u g h many went as m i s s i o n a r i e s to the Americas,China,India, and Japan. Reform w i t h i n the church was c a r r i e d on a l s o hy means of the I n q u i s i t i o n , which, under Pope Paul IV.was so severe as to almost wipe out heresy i n I t - a l y . Pope Paul IV a l s o p u b l i s h e d the "Index", a l i s t of f o r b i d - den books, d u r i n g 1555-1559. There were other r e l i g i o u s r e f o r m i s t s among groups l i k e the P u r i t a n s , who under t h e i r l e a d e r John Browne, l e f t England , where they f e l t they were not f r e e to worship as t h e i r c o n s c i - ences ordered them to, and f o l l o w e d Browne f i r s t to L e i d e n , and then l a t e r to the New World, s a i l i n g on the "Mayflower", and l a n d i n g on the shores of America at Plymouth i n 1620. The P u r i t a n s , who were m i d d l e - c l a s s merchants, fought under t h e i r l e a d e r , Cromwell, a g a i n s t the K i n g and the order of p r i v e l e g e , and were s u c c e s s f u l , the k i n g C h a r l e s 1st, being be- headed i n 1649, l e a v i n g Cromwell as D i c t a t o r u n t i l h i s death, when C h a r l e s the Second r e t u r n e d . D u r i n g t h i s p e r i o d of P u r i t a n c o n t r o l the t h e a t r e s were c l o s e d and England l a y under a r e l - i g i o u s p a l l , from which she has not f u l l y recovered even today, the e f f e c t s of r e p r e s s i o n of a l l a r t i s t i c tendencies being more f a r - r e a c h i n g , u n f o r t u n a t e l y , than those of a reverse s i t u a t i o n . S c i e n t i f i c changes were h e l p i n g l o o s e n the h o l d of r e l - i g i o u s u n i t y i n the west. Prom 1500 u n t i l the death of Newton -71- there was v i s i b l e a steady i n c r e a s e i n the systematic i n v e s t i g a - t i o n of nature made p a s s i b l e by the i n v e n t i o n s of such d e v i c e s as the t e l e s c o p e , the microscope, the thermometer,barometer,pendulum, and micrometer. The s i g n i f c a n t men of t h i s long l i n e of s c i e n t i s t s were Copernicus,Brahe,Kepler,Galileo,Harvey,van Loeuwenhoek,Huy- gens.Malpighi, and Newton. T h e i r work helped l a y the b a s i s f o r the g r e a t m a t e r i a l and i n t e l l e c t i a l changes of the next p e r i o d . To t h i s next p e r i o d the c r i t i c a l term,Baroque, i s a p p l i e d . T h i s term was taken over from one of the f i g u r e s of the c l a s s i c a l s y l l o g i s m , and has been used at d i f f e r e n t p e r i o d s i n c r i t i c i s m to mean q u i t e d i f f e r e n t t h i n g s , v a r y i n g from the h i g h p r a i s e of the p e r i o d by Spengler as the Manhood of Western C u l t u r e to a term of contempt used c h i e f l y of I t a l i a n a t e ornateness by the c r i t i c s of the 18th century l i k e C o l i n Campbell,and the E n g l i s h Ruskin of the 19th c e n t u r y . Baroque, as a p p l y i n g to the s c u l p t u r e and a r c h i t e c t u r e of the p e r i o d s t r e s s e s the d i f f e r e n c e s i n the use of the Renaissance forms, which were i n f u s e d here w i t h a new s p i r i t , o f l a v i s h orna- mentation. In I t a l y the church of the V a t i c a n was changed by the a d d i t i o n of an ornamented approach w i t h a long colonnade and s a i n t s s c u l p t u r e d on the facade done by the a r t i s t Bernini(d.1680) who a l s o worked on the' palace o f the Louvre i n P a r i s u n t i l he disagreed w i t h Mazarin and returned home. In Prance working then i n s c u l p - ture was C h a r l e s l e Brun who d i d very d e c o r a t i v e work. The Baroque s t y l e i s shown p e r f e c t l y i n the Chateau of V e r s a i l l e s with i t s ex- q u i s i t e l y l a i d out formal gardens, which was the work of the a r c h i t e c t Mansart, who a l s o b u i l t many g r a c e f u l countryhom.es of the p e r i o d and designed the dome of the I n v a l i d e s i n P a r i s . http://countryhom.es -72- In p a i n t i n g the p e r i o d wa.s a r i c h one though i t s f i r s t d i s t i n c t i v e exponents were known as a group as the 'mannerists', u s i n g as they d i d an e c l e c t i c s t y l e combining' the F l o r e n t i n e , Umbrian,Mantuan,and Venetian t r a d i t i o n s . The f i r s t I t a l i a n ex- ponent was a Flemish a r t i s t , Denis C a l v a e r t , ( d l 6 1 9 ) who passed h i s technique on to h i s students,Ludovico Carracci(d.1619) and h i s nephews,Agostino and Annibale C a r r a c c i . The f i r s t g r e a t I t a l i a n p a i n t e r i n the new Baroque t r a d - i t i o n was Caravaggio (d.1609) whose "Entombment" shows the s k i l l i n use of c h i a r o s c u r o which foreshadows Rembrandt; while h i s f e l l o w - a r t i s t s , among whom were G-uido Reni (d.1642),sometimes p a i n t e d i n the new s t y l e . In Spain E l Greco (d.1614), p u p i l to the Venetian T i n t o r - r e t t o , was working i n a d i s t i n c t l y p e r s o n a l v e r s i o n of the new s t y l e , u s i n g long nervous l i n e s with l i g h t and c o l o u r worked i n to make a d e l i b e r a t e l y d i s t o r t e d p a t t e r n i n the i n t e r e s t of h i s d e s i g n . A l s o i n Spain , Velasquez (d.1660) was working , who though he d e r i v e s from the Venetians and the Flemish, p a i n t e d i n such an i n d i v i d u a l and s u b t l e manner that he i s d i f f i c u l t to • c l a s s i f y . In the Netherlands Salomon van Kuysdael (d.1670) was p a i n t i n g landscape around Haarlem, as shown i n h i s "View of Haar- lem", and f o l l o w i n g the l i n e of the other Dutch genre p a i n t e r s , who d e r i v e p a r t i a l l y from Caravaggio i n t h e i r s u b j e c t - m a t t e r of o r d i n a r y people doing o r d i n a r y t h i n g s . T h i s B w i l d i i n s u b j e c t to completely s e c u l a r m a t e r i a l i s shown e s p e c i a l l y i n the work of such an a r t i s t as Franz H a l s , (d.1666) i n p a i n t i n g s l i k e h i s "Mad Baabe", Hals a l s o had an enormous i n f l u e n c e on succeeding artists who used his brush technique. At Delft,Jan Vermeer used this characteristic intimate approach in his " L i t t l e Street", "View of Delft", "Young Woman with Jug" and "Lady with a Lute", In Amsterdam there was Rembrandt (d.1669) whose form i s wholly characteristic and his own, though often imitated by lesser a r t i s t s . The means he used consisted chiefly of a combination of light and shadow related to the outline so as to achieve a dis- tinctness of contour so subtle that i t is impossible to say how i t was done. In Rembrandt an imaginative interpretation of the actual world reaches i t s perfect plastic expression, with com- plete avoidance of anything not capable of being rendered plas- t i c a l l y , that i s , in the medium he has chosen. He is at his best in such paintings as "Hendrickje Stoffels","Old Man" and "Unmer- c i f u l Servant." In the south there were working Rubens(d.1640), and Van Dyck(d.l641). To conclude with the Netherlands , their Baroque architecture consists chiefly of public buildings like that in the town hall of Bolsward, and the Butcher's Hall in Haarlem. In Russia, Petee the Great travelled from home to bring back his European knowledge in an attempt of Europeanize his country, building the city of St.Petersburg on the Neva, and in- troducing western dress, ideas, manners, and art, and by his death in 1725 Russia was within the European tradition. In Prance were working the Painters : Poussin (d.1665), one of the great .French colourists*, integrating his colour and light and line; Claude le Lorrain(d.l682) who uses a pervasive colour and l i t t l e detail in his "Embarkation of the Queen of Sheba" and in his "Landing of Cleopatra". -74- P a S e n o t numbered. -75- In l i t e r a t u r e d u r i n g the p e r i o d of c i v i l war i n France which accompanies the Reformation, there were two g r e a t w r i t e r s , Jean Bodin(d.l596) and Montaigne(d.1592). Bodin's " S i x Books on the S t a t e " recommaded a strong monarchy as the most s t a b l e form of government, but a s s e r t e d the n e c e s s i t y of the monarch's being s u b j e c t to the laws. Montaigne's "Essayes" are the s c e p t i c a l op- i n i o n s of an i n t e l l i g e n t and honest man i n t e r e s t e d i n every ph phase of l i f e . L a t e r , a f t e r the a c c e s s i o n of L o u i s XIV, the c o u r t l y a t - mosphere produced the comedy of Moliere(d.1673),which s a t i r i z e d the mannered c o u r t n o b i l i t y , and the tragedy of Racine(d.1699) and C o r n e i l l e ( d . 1 6 8 4 ) which, based on the heroes of c l a s s i c a l h i s t o r y , are more s t a t e l y i n s u b j e c t matter, and more "rigid i n form.Also w r i t i n g were B o i l e a u . L a Rochefoucauld, La F o n t a i n e , Marie de Sevigne, Fenelon, and B l a i s e B a s c a l , whose "Pensees" c o n t a i n r e f l e c t i o n s on C h r i s t i a n i t y . In England the Age of E l i z a b e t h was one of n e v e r - p a r a l l e d l i t e r a r y b r i l l i a n c e , f e a t u r i n g as i t does,near i t s beginning,the work of such men as John Lyly,Bacon,Hooker,Fox, and i n i t s g r e a t p e r i o d of f u l l development the work of Spenser, Marlowe, Shakes- peare, Jonson, Donne, M a r v e l l , and , c l o s i n g i t , B u t l e r , Bunyan and M i l t o n , ( d . 1 6 7 4 ) . Among these are many who deserve the name of genius,and they are only the b e s t known w r i t e r s ; there were many of the d r a m a t i s t s , who , l i k e Webster and Chapman, would have f a r e d more k i n d l y i f they had not been faced by the u n i v e r - s a l genius of Shakespeare. The Baroque, then, was a p e r i o d of g r e a t achievement, i n many of the i n d i v i d u a l art-forms, and was one of enormous a l i v e - ness i n f e e l i n g . I t s more ornate s t y l e has heen termed "marin- i s t " i n I t a l y , a f t e r t h e i r poet M a r i n i , "Gongorism" i n Spain a f t e r Gongor, " e u p h u i s t i c " i n England a f t e r the "Euphues" of L y l y and, i n i'rance, " p r e c i o s i t e " . I t saw, d u r i n g i t s course, the death of I t a l i a n s o c i a l comedy i n the •commedia d e l l ' a r t e " , and the.emergence of i t s most t y p i c a l a r t - f o r m i n the new a r t of the 'opera'. These f i r s t operas were r e a l l y only performances of works meant simply to he sung r a t h e r than played, such as P a l - e s t r i n a ' s "Dafne" and " E u r i d i c e " . At £ouis' c o u r t the manners of the r e s t of p o l i t e Europe were formed, and the masques and entertainments he p r o v i d e d f o r h i s guests s t i m u l a t e d the a r t s to almost the same degree that they exhausted h i s t r e a s u r y . Here, f o r i n s t a n c e , appeared the f i r s t c l a s s i c a l dancing, i n r e f i n e d v a r i a t i o n s on the s o c i a l dancing of the c o u n t r y - s i d e . The conventions f o r the c l a s s i c a l f i g u r e s of the b a l l e t were l a i d down, and i n s p i r a t i o n g i v e n to m u s i c a l forms which often,today even, uses the dance forms of : pavanne,galliard,allemande,courante,sarabande,gigue,minuet, gavotte,bouree, rigaudon,chaconne,and p a s s e c a g l i a . I t was a p e r i o d of a new spaciousness i n l i v i n g , u s i n g the new l u x u r y of l e i s u r e , and i t s a r t was"sometimes overblown w i t h exuberance. D u r i n g the 16th ,and 17th c e n t u r i e s economic changes were t a k i n g p l a c e , world trade and manufacturing were i n c r e a s i n g i n scope, and were b e g i n n i n g to b r i n g together money, or c a p i t a l , which made a commerce i n wealth p o s s i b l e ; g r e a t t r a d i n g compan- -77- i e s were e s t a b l i s h e d , n e c e s s i t a t i n g the formation of banking hou- ses to supply them w i t h c r e d i t f o r t h e i r operations; double entry book-keeping had r e c e n t l y been invented; i n agricu3isre new and improved methods had made l a r g e land-holdings more p r o f i t a b l e than ever, and a l e g a l i z e d d i s p o s s e s s i o n of the peasants from t h e i r land was t a k i n g place i n England, the now l a n d l e s s work- ers who d r i f t e d to the c i t i e s forming the o l a b o u r - f o r c e f o r the new E n g l i s h f a c t o r i e s . L i f e was changing. The machines and methods f o r making things more q u i c k l y and more cheaply were being invented. In the t e x t i l e i n d u s t r y Watt's steam-engine proved u s e f u l i n operating Richard Arkwright's (d. 1792) water-frame spinning-machine. In America, E l i Whitney(d.l825) invented a cotton g i n which i n c r e a s - ed the production of cotton from 189,000 l b s . i n 1791 to 2,000,000 i n 1860 and 5,ooo,ooo i n 1900. In metal-working Cort's (d.1800) process of 'puddling' made the p i g - i r o n production of England jump from 48,000"Tons i n 1740 to 8,000,000 i n 1844. In the manu- f a c t u r e of tools,Maudsiay (d,183l) made an i r o n - l a t h e and a s l i d e - r e s t which permitted measurements of 1/10,000 of an i n c h to be made; W i i i n s o n , by boring c y l i n d e r s f o r the steam engine helped i t s success; J o s i a h Wedgewood (d.1795) produced machine-made vases of great beauty; and i n d i s t i l l i n g a vapour from c o a l to l i g h t h i s own home Murdock (d.1839) produced a method f o r using i l l u m i n a t i n g gas i n i n d u s t r y . L i f e was changing a l s o i n i t s meaningful geographic scope. Transportation methods were invented to make t r a v e l e a s i e r and cheaper : McAdam (d.1836) invented a method of t s u r f a c i n g roads -78- by elevating them and draining them before covering them with successive layers of finely crushed rock; Meaton (d.1792) and Telford(d,1834) built canals, the former the Forth and Clyde, the latter the Ellesmere connecting the Mersey and Severn rivers, Stevenson invented the the f i r s t successful steam engine which drew the f i r s t coaches on the Liverpool-ManChester Railway in 1830 carrying 600 passengers.Symington, in 1802 b u i l t the steam- boat "Charlotte Dundas", whih was later improved upon by the Am- erican, Fulton, whose "Clermont" with a Watt steam engine operat- ing i t s paddles travelled 150 miles up the Hudson River. By 1800 England led the world in the development of mech- anized industry. Adam Smith's "Wealth of Nations" laid down the accepted line of economic theory, with i t s p o l i t i c a l concomitant the 'laissez f a i r e ' attitude. Along with Ricardo, Mai thus, and Ben- tham he enunciated the principles of what later was called "Lib- eralism", a justification for the rise of the new class of ex- ploiter-capitalists, and gained for them greater representation in Parliament which had formerly been the exclusive 'club' of the land-owning class. Gradually even these parliamentary apologists were compelled to forsake their 'hands off industry' stand and pass legislationslike the Factory Acts of 1802-33-44-47 and the Mine Regulations of 1819 regulating hours and conditions of lab- our. This period is paralled in i t s earliest stages by the Literature of the Age of Reason which in England was written by Pope in poetry, and Hume , Locke and Berkelsyin philosophy; in France by Voltaire and Montesquieu, and the Encyclopedists,De Condillac,Diderot, and D'alembert. With the changes brought by - 7 9 - industrialization the picture changes in England where there is a reaction towards Romanticism in the Poetry of Wordsworth, Coleridge,Shelley,Keats and Byron, and the novels o f , f i r s t , Richardson and Pieliing, and then those of Scott,Dickens, Thack- aray,George Eliot and the Bronte sisters, of whom,Emily's "Wu- therirgHeights" shows the greatest poetic a b i l i t y . This was f o l - by lowed in jthe works of Hardy,Samuel Butler,Arnold Bennett,/a more r e a l i s t i c treatment of the novel, turning towards rather than away from1 the industrial society of English l i f e , and the ord- inary l i f e of the agricultural society which s t i l l existed in parts of England. In America the novel passed through a similar period of Romanticism, shown in the works of Penimore Cooper, and the soc- i a l criticism of Mrs.Stowe's "Uncle Tom's Cabin", succeeded by a period of great social realism shown in the novels of Dreiser and Sinclair Lewis, and of greater intellectual power shown in those of Henry James. In Prance the same romantic tendency away from the reality of the bourgeoiBe society surrounding them is visible in the poetry of the Symbolistes, V i l l i e r s de l ' i s l e Adam,Mallarme, Verlaine, Laforgue,Ducasse,Paul Valery,Rimbaud and Baudelaire, divorcing their art from a l i f e in which they could see no val- ue, deriving greatly from the American poet Edgar Allen Poe. In architecture this early period is called "Rococo", from the word 'rocaille' or rock-work, because of the prevailing a r t i f i c i a l grottoes which the period affected. This style was seen characteristically in the decorations of rooms like the -80- one from the Palazzo Sagredo,on the Grand Canal of Venice, now i n the M e t r o p o l i t a n Museum i n New York. In such rooms a r c h i t e c - t u r e , s c u l p t u r e , p a i n t i n g , f u r n i t u r e , and even the l i g h t of the day are o r c h e s t r a t e d i n t o a whole. Other examples of the s t y l e are the Abbey of Rottenbuch i n A u s t r i a , and the Zwinger i n Dresden. In p a i n t i n g the t r a d i t i o n was e s s e n t i a l l y French , being an exaggeration of the baroque of the c o u r t of LouisXIV, shown i n the d e l i c a t e l y t i n t e d works of Watteau,Fragonard,Boucher, and the works of Chardin, whose s l i g h t l y p i t t e d and g r a i n y s u r f a c e and p e r s o n a l sense of composition had an i n f l u e n c e on many suc- ceeding p a i n t e r s . In the p a i n t i n g of n i n e t e e n t h century Prance p r i o r to Impressionism there was a r e v i v a l of c l a s s i c i s m and a tendency towards the a c c e n t u a t i o n of l i n e at the expense of, the other e l - i \ ements, v i s i b l e i n the work of such a r t i s t s as David, Ingres; and the h i s t r i o n i s m of D e l a c r o i x . The work of s o c i a l c r i t i c s l i k e Daumier i n Prance and Hogarth i n England c l o s e l y p a r a l l e l s the work of the great n o v e l i s t s of the p e r i o d , Dickens a l r e a d y mentioned, f o r England, and Flaubert,(d.1880),Zola(d.1902) and Anatole France(d.1924). In R u s s i a i t was v i s i b l e i n the p o e t r y of Pushkin, that a s i m i l a r though delayed Romanticism was t a k i n g p l a c e i n t h e i r l i t e r a t u r e , shown a l s o i n the n o v e l s of Turgenev,Gogol,and esp- e c i a l l y i n the m a g n i f i c e n t p i c t u r e s of i n t e n s e l y human l i f e i n D o s t o i e v s k i . In Germany i t developed i n Goethes's g r e a t drama "Faust" what Spengler c a l l s the f i n a l p e r f e c t e d e x p r e s s i o n of the western or f a u s t i a n s o u l , and was v i s i b l e i n the p h i l o s o p h y -81- of Kant,Hegel,Schopenhauer, and N i e t z s c h , i n the t r a n s l a t i o n s by S c h l e g e l of Shakespeare's p l a y s , and i n the a e s t h e t i c c r i t - i c i s m of L e s s i n g . In Spain i t s e a r l i e s t p e r i o d produced the b i t t e r s o c i a l c r i t i c i s m of Goya's e t c h i n g s of the P e n i n s u l a r War. Everywhere i n Europe t h i s s p l i t between the v a l u e s o f the new i n d u s t r i a l i z e d s o c i e t y and the v a l u e s not only of a r t , but those o f ' h u m a n i t y ' i t s e l f , was v i s i b l e , ana i s p a r t i c u l a r l y e v i - dent i n the two a t t i t u d e s which i t produced then, and which are s t i l l c u r r e n t i n a r t today - that of t u r n i n g from the f a l s e va- l u e s of the l i f e around the a r t i s t to an ' a r t f o r a r t ' s sake'at- t i t u d e , and t h a t of t u r n i n g the denied value of a r t and human- i t y i n t o a s e a r c h i n g study of s o c i a l c o n d i t i o n s r e s u l t i n g i n g r e a t n o v e l s and some f i n e s o c i a l c r i t i c i s m . Adding to the new i n v e n t i o n s , d e v e l o p i n g the machine as- pect of the new s o c i e t y , and, through improved t r a n s p o r t a t i o n and communication methods, b r i n g t h i s 'one world' s t i l l more c l o s e l y to a r e a l i z a t i o n of i t s u n i t y of purpose, were the mech- a n i c a l achievements of the f i r s t h a l f of the 2otn century, i n the work of such men as Thomas B l a n c h a r d ( p r o f i l e L a t h e ) , F r e d - e r i c k Winsor ( s t r e e t l i g h t i n g ) , S a m u e l Clegg(gas meter),Howe and Singer (sewing machine).Merganthaier ( l i n o t y p e ) and Lanston (mon- otype ) t S c h o l e s ( t y p e w r i t e r ) , G o o d y e a r ( v u l c a n i z a t i o n o f rubber), Daguerre ( f i l m developing),Eastman(kodak),Morse ( t e l e g r a p h ) , Lord K e l v i n ( A t l a n t i c c a b l e ) . A l e x a n d e r Graham H e l l ( t e l e p h o n e ) , M a r c o n i ( w i r e l e s s ) , L e e de F o r e s t ( r a d i o ) , E d i s o n ( e l e c t r i c i t y ) , G . F . J e n k i n s ( t e l e v i s i on),Ford(aut omobile),Wright B r o t h e r s ( a e r o p l a n e ) , L i e b i g and W o h l e r ( i n d u s t r i a l c h e m i s t r y ) , J . P . M o r g a n ( f i n a n c i a l o r g a n i z a t i o n ) , K a r l Marx(socialism),De Gobineau ( r a c i s m ) , G a t l i n g , -82- Maxim,Colt,Du Pont,Krupp,Skoda,Armstrong & V i c k e r s , a n d Schneider- Creusot (armaments),Galvani,Volta,Ampere,Ohm, ( e l e c t r i c a l science?) Faraday (dynamo),Hetz,Helmholtz,Einstein,Manhattan P r o j e c t (atom- i c f i s s i o n ) . A r c h i t e c t u r e , i n t h i s age of i n d u s t r y , r e c e i v e d a new im- petus, which i n h e a r i n g out Spengler's own dictum that a r c h i t e c - ture i s the f i r s t a r t a f f e c t e d hy new beginnings of c u l t u r e , sup- p o r t s my c o n t e n t i o n that t h i s p e r i o d i s one of new beginnings c u l - t u r a l l y speaking. I t s t y p i c a l e x p r e s s i o n i n the a r c h i t e c t u r e of the 'new w o r l d 1 was the s k y s c r a p e r of American b u s i n e s s , t o w e r i n g more than 35 s t o r i e s i n t o the a i r and housing 5ooo people; the en- ormous f a c t o r i e s made necessary by mass p r o d u c t i o n were sometimes r e a l and e x c i t i n g works of a r t i n t h e i r s o l u t i o n of s t r u c t u r a l and personnel problems, as i n the Van N e l l e F a c t o r y at Rotterda,; the modern department s t o r e was t r e a t e d i n Germany and Sweden w i t h i m a g i n a t i o n and beauty; the l a r g e d w e l l i n g u n i t s or a p a r t - ment b l o c k s have, i n some Mexican examples, achieved a f u n c t i o n a l s i m p l i c i t y and" grace; i n the g r e a t power dams necessary f o r i n d - u s t r i a l c i t y l i f e again t h i s i s v i s i b l e , as i n the Boulder Dam, U.S.A. and that at Dnieperpetrovsk, blown up by the Russians i n the face of the German advance i n the recent war; and f i n a l l y , the p o s s i b l e beauty of the p r i v a t e d w e l l i n g i s shown i n the designs of such men as Frank L l o y d Wright, and i n the c i t y p l a n n i n g of whole r e s i d e n t i a l d i s t r i c t s of such men as Mumford,LeCorbusier, and Neutra. S c u l p t u r e i s no l o n g e r used as a fundamental p a r t of a r c h i t e c t u r e , but s i g n i f i c a n t a c t i v i t y has been going on s i n c e the time of Rodin by E p s t e i n , M a i l l o l , L a c h a i s e , D e g a s , and i n the. -83- smooth a b s t r a c t e d shapes of B r a n c u s i . P a i n t i n g has passed through v a r i o u s stages , one that e- q u i v a l e n t to the Komantic poets i n the Impressionism of Monet, M a n e t , P i s a r r o , S e u r a t , S i s l e y , R e n o i r , a n d some of the e a r l y Cezanne; another p e r i o d of post-impressionism represented by the work of Cezanne,Gauguin,Degas,Puvis de Chavannes,Van Gogh,Modigliani,and P a s c i n ; the work of i n d i v i d u a l i s t s l i k e Henri R o u s s e a u , U t r i l l o , S o u t i n e , P o u a u l t , C h i r i c o , and C h a g a l l ; the p e r i o d of the 'Pauves' o r ' w i l d b e a s t s ' l e d f o r a while by M a t i s s e ; In I t a l y Futurism; i n Germany the e x p r e s s i o n i s m of-Klee, and the n o n - o b j e c t i v e p a i n t - i n g of Kandinsky; i n France the C u b i s t s l e d at f i r s t by P i c a s s o and Bracque; i n America the 'ash-can' school of r e a l i s t s ; other American a r t i s t s l i k e Winslow Homer,John Marin,Walt Kuhn,Max We- ber and Yasuo K u n i y o s h i who are more r e p r e s e n t a t i o n a l i n form; and other s t i l l l i k e Mondrian who have a r r i v e d at an almost com- p l e t e a b s t r a c t i o n from r e p r e s e n t a t i o n a l v a l u e s ; i n Canada the romantic r e p r e s e n t a t i o n a l i s m of the 'Group of Seven' and the more recent work of such men as Jack Shadbolt and L i o n e l Thomas, and such women as E m i l y Carr, and the young and s t i l l d e v e l o p i n g M o l l y Lamb; and f i n a l l y the m a g n i f i c e n t Mexican f r e s c o i s t s , Diego Rivera,Orosco and S i q u e i r o s , who use t h e i r v e r y o l d medium to make s i g n i f c a n t and very modern s o c i a l comment. In l i t e r a t u r e the new i n t e r e s t i n language as e x p r e s s i v e of ideas and a s s o c i a t i v e images i s c r e a t i n g a new form - the new sinewy p o e t i c language of E l i o t and Auden i s matched i n the a r t of the novel by the work of D.H.Lawrence and V i r g i n i a W o o l f f , A l - dous Huxley and C h r i s t o p h e r Isherwood; i n I r e l a n d , by the potent -84- i n f l u e n c e of James Joyce i n the n o v e l , and W i l l i a m B u t l e r Yeats i n poetry; i n Prance hy the c u r i o u s l y p r e c i s e i n t e l l e c t u a l rem- i n i s c i n g of Proust's e x p l o r a t i o n s of time and the work of tilde; i n the U.S.A. hy the n o v e l s of such men as E r n e s t Hemingway,us- by i n g a h i g h l y p e r s o n a l and muscular prose s t y l e ; / t h e panoramic novel of s o c i a l impact shown i n Steinbeck's "Grapes of Wrath"; by the s t u t t e r i n g attempts at s t y l i s t i c r e v i s i o n of Gertrude S t e i n ; by the genre s t u d i e s of such w r i t e r s as Dos P a s s o s , P a r r e l , and Faulkner; and by the short s t o r i e s of Irwin Shaw,John O'Hara, W i l l i a m Saroyan,Damon Runyan,James Thurber, and Jean S t a f f o r d ; and i n Canada by the novels of one young Canadian which are , f o r a change, worth reading as l i t e r a t u r e , Hugh MacLennan. Other European n o v e l i s t s whose work i n t r a n s l a t i o n has been w i d e l y read and i n f l u e n t i a l throughout the l i t e r a t e world are Thomas ^ann, Franz Kafka, G a b r i e l Silone,Arthua? K o e s t l e r , Jean P a u l S a r t r e , A l b e r t Camus, K o n s t a n t i n Simonov, and Stephan Zweig. In c r i t i c i s m there are w r i t i n g : Santayana,Dewey,White- head,Russell,Croce,Bergson and C a s s i r e r i n Philosophy; Mumford, P a r k e r , L i p p s , S p e n g l e r , and M a r i t a i n i n A e s t h e i c s ; I.A.Richards, T . S . E l i o t , Ivor W i n t e r s . W i l l i a m Empson and Herbert Read i n L i t - e r a r y C r i t i c i s m ; Ogden & R i c h a r d s , T a r s k i , C h a r l e s M o r r i s , K o r - z y b s k i and Hayakawa i n Semantics; Watson,:Dewey, D a s h i e l l , B i n e t , Thorndike,Yerkes,Terman i n Psychology; Freud, A d l e r , Jung i n P s y c h o - a n a l y s i s ; and Toynbee, Pareto, Sorokin,Spengler,Marx,Le- n i n , T r o t s k y , B e r n a r d Shaw, Edmund Wilson, and Wyndham Lewis i n s o c i a l and c u l t u r a l a n a l y s i s . L i t e r a t u r e i n g e n e r a l has been a f f e c t e d by the i n f l u x of i d e a s and terminology from many other branches of human knowl- -85- edge. For example, i n the 'streara-of-consciousness' technique of Joyce i n the n o v e l , and i n the c h a r a c t e r a n a l y s e s employed i n the modern n o v e l the p s y c h o - a n a l y t i c t h e o r i e s of Freud and h i s c o l l - eagues have heen i n f l u e n t i a l , as have the s o c i a l t h e o r i e s used i n the novel a l s o . In poetry, the ' a s s o c i a t i o n i s t ' and ' i m a g i s t ' p s y c h o l o g i c a l t h e o r i e s of p o e t i c meaning of Richards and Empson, and the t r a d i t i o n a l i s m of E l i o t have mixed to produce a new v e r b a l technique, and a new approach toward p o e t i c e x p r e s s i o n , and i t s c r i t i c a l e v a l u a t i o n . But i t i s i n the realm of the f i l m that the new v a l u e s and techniques of our s o c i e t y are most c l e a r l y v i s i b l e . The f i l m i s a c o o p e r a t i v e t e c h n i c a l undertaking, not the work of l o n e l y genius, though the c r e a t i v e a b i l i t y of the i n d i v i d u a l has found a h i g h l y p e r s o n a l o u t l e t here a l s o . A young c r i t i c of the f i l m has had t h i s to say about i t s position today, i n a recent a r t i c l e i n the A t l a n t i c Monthly... • The monumental coraitragedies of C h a p l i n , the v i g o r o u s ab- s u r d i t i e s of Mack Sennett,Walt Disney's animated world of f a n - tasy,and some memorable f i l m s from s u c h ' d i r e c t o r s as Von S t r o - heim,Murnau,Vidor,Ford,Milestone,Wyler — i n the long run these remarkably mature achievements f o r an i n f a n t a r t may b a l - ance the ..sins;.of tas;elessness,unimaginativene8s,, .and ; a r t i s t i c - a m o r a l i t y a m a j o r i t y of American f i l m makers have committed s y s t e m a t i c a l l y f o r g e n e r a t i o n s . . . '"•-These 'of fenders .nave t a k e n an instrument as s e n s i t i v e , as d e l i c a t e l y balanced, as capable 'of i n d e s c r i b a b l e beauty and s u b t l e emotion as the f i n e s t Steinway; they have set themselves b e f o r e the l a r g e s t audience i n the h i s t o r y of the world — and have proceeded to p l a y c h o p s t i c k s . "For w i t h h a l f a century of m o t i o n - p i c t u r e e x h i b i t i o n be- h i n d us i t i s h i g h time we were honest w i t h o u r s e l v e s and our g r e a t machine f o r making a r t . Hollywood f i n i s h e s at l e a s t one f e a t u r e - l e n g t h p i c t u r e every.day of the year, and. s i x of the seven turned out are j u s t p l a i n c h o p s t i c k s , the same tune everybody knows,repeated i n a repeated s e r i e s of r e p e t i t i o n s . "How can i t be t h a t the only n a t i o n i n the world with a t r a d i t i o n of popular education produces 98 m i l l i o n movie- goers a week who h a p p i l y keep on paying t h e i r two b i t s , f o u r -86- b i t s , s i x "bits (and sometimes three times that much) to see and hear c h o p s t i c k s year i n and year out ? "What's the t r o u b l e ? Is i t j u s t that Hollywood i s a low pressure a r e a i n our n a t i o n a l c u l t u r e ? Itfsnot q u i t e so simple as the easy c o n c l u s i o n that Hollywood's h i e r a r c h y i s composed of a breed i n f e r i o r to the g e n e r a l p u b l i c . In- stead, too o f t e n t h e i r short-comings l i e i n t h e i r r e l u c - tance to l i f t themselves above the lowest common denomin- a t o r of p u b l i c t a s t e . How to r a i s e the standard of a l l our mass-consumption a r t s i s the b a s i c problem; Hollywood i s merely an outstanding and s p e c t a c u l a r example. The a e s t h e t - i c bankruptcy that puts "Stage Door Canteen" onto the A l l Time L i s t of Box O f f i c e Champios (while f i l m s of l e s s ob- v i o u s a t t r a c t i o n l i k e * T h e Informer" and "The Ox-bow I n c i - dent" are l u c k y i f they get t h e i r c o s t s b a c k ) , t h a t permits tens of m i l l i o n s to enjoy movies that are f a l s e , s h a l l o w , and c l i c h e - c l u t t e r e d , i s the same I d i o t Muse t h a t enables c o u n t l e s s r a d i o - l i s t e n e r s to submit uncomplainingly to the b r a i n - c r u s h i n g b a n a l i t i e s of the soap operas and.the rout- i n e t e r r o r s . Sex, not as d e f i n e d by Hemingway but as dished up by Kathleen Winsor. Crime, not as p e n e t r a t e d by D o s t o i - e v s k i but as b a t t e d out by E r i e S t a n l e y Gardner. Love, not as d i g n i f i e d by T o l s t o y but as s t a n d a r d i z e d , s t r e a m l i n e d , and sweetened to t a s t e (everybody la) i n our radio-shows,love magazines and movies. Is t h i s the p r i c e we have to pay f o r being not the best-educated people i n the world but merely the most l i t e r a t e , w i t h more l e i s u r e than we know what to do with, and so much money f o r r e c r e a t i o n that the r e c r e a - t i v e p u r s u i t s must be geared to mass-production ?" 25. The problem of a r t today, t h e r e f o r e , seems to me to be not one of decadence but one of d i r e c t i o n . We have a s u f f i c i e n t l y f l o u r i s h i n g t e c h n i c a l a b i l i t y producing even the new art-forms of r a d i o and f i l m to say t h a t we are i n a p e r i o d of c u l t u r a l movement r a t h e r than one of t u r g i d i t y . But the e s s e n t i a l quest- i o n s of d i r e c t i o n and value are everywhere being posed by the s i t u a t i o n not of the a r t s alone, but of human c u l t u r e g e n e r a l l y . I have attempted above a survey of western c i v i l i z a t i o n , i n terms of i t s motive f o r c e s , i t s main c u l t u r a l movements and t h e i r r e s i d u e i n the a r t s , and i t s c o n c l u d i n g phase p o i n t i n g toward a new c u l t u r a l upsurge, i n the a r c h i t e c t u r a l a c t i v i t y noted above, and i n the new b a l l a d - a r t of the f i l m . I t remains to evaluate t h e i r p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r achievement today. 25, Budd S c h u l b e r g , o p . c i t . . A t l a n t i c Monthly. November,1947. - 8 7 - Chapter Four : The Concept o f A r t i n R e l a t i o n to the Economic B a s i s o f Living,Examined, and the P o s s i b i l i t y F o r Free C r e a t i v e Development under the two Economic Forms Current Today a s s e s s e d . «88-* The e x p r e s s i o n o f the p o e t i c impulse i n the a r t - r e c o r d s we possess has been seen to m i r r o r the process of c u l t u r a l change. Greek a r t we have seen b u i l d i n g on the remains of My- cenean and Cretan c i v i l i z a t i o n s ; e a r l y C h r i s t i a n art,Romanesque and what i s known as s p e c i f i c a l l y 'western' a r t we have seen developing w i t h i n the d i s i n t e g r a t i n g Roman Empire; and s i m i l a r - l y , I contend, the e a r l i e s t e x p r e s s i o n of a new World-Art can now be seen emerging , w i t h i n the s t i l l e x i s t e n t framework of t y p i c a l l y 'western' a r t t and c i v i l i z a t i o n g e n e r a l l y . Just as r o o t s of much of t h i s t y p i c a l l y western a r t can be seen to be c l a s s i c a l or Semitic i n o r i g i n , although complete- l y e n f e o f f e d w i t h i n the western i d e a l , i n a s i m i l a r way, the s i g n s of the new world c i v i l i z a t i o n have developed w i t h i n a l - ready e x i s t e n t forms...double-entry book-keeping b e i n g invented i n the 15th century; manufacturing processes b e i n g f i r s t based on h a n d c r a f t s ; l a r g e b u s i n e s s monopolies u s i n g the i d e a of the l a r g e land-monopolies of f e u d a l Europe and decadent ^ome; new i n d u s t r i a l designs employing f i r s t the d e c o r a t i v e t r a d i t i o n a l p a t t e r n s , and only l a t e l y e v o l v i n g t h e i r own completely func .'- t i o n a l formal expression.' World-Art g e n e r a l l y has thus evolved w i t h i n the t e c h n i c a l e x p r e s s i v e n e s s c r e a t e d by western c i v i l i - z a t i o n . We can t r a c e , i n the r e s i d u a l a f t - o b j e c t s of d i f f e r e n t p e r i o d s , the c u l t u r a l changes i n emphasis. The u r b a n i z a t i o n of Roman s o c i e t y w i t h i t s attendant s o p h i s t i c a t e d Empire-values was d e r i v a t i v e from the change i n p r o d u c t i v e b u s i n e s s and. farm- i n g methods, and t h i s change i s v i s i b l e i n the a r t i s t i c and eng- i n e e r i n g works e x p r e s s i v e of the p e r i o d : f o r sample,in Ovidian -89- s a t i r e o f p r e v i o u s l y accepted s o c i a l mores; i n the d e t a i l e d and w e l l organized system of Roman Law; and i n the t e c h n i c a l e x c e l - lence and widespread development of the durable Roman Roads. S i m i l a r l y , i n the f e u d a l i z a t i o n of western (European) s o c i e t y w i t h i t s change i n the productive u n i t to the feudal estate and i t s acceptance of the idea of f e a l t y to such a feudal l o r d , was t y p i c a l l y expressed i n the c h i v a l r i c romances of the p e r i o d ; i n the chamber music composed,during i t s l a s t stages,for the small p r i v a t e orchestras of the f e u d a l courts and i n the part s i n g i n g which accompanied or was interspersed...among the inst- rumental music;, i n the. transformation of the country-dancing of the peasants i n t o the court-dance-forms p r e v i o u s l y noted; and i n the decorative a r t s of the costumer,. the armourer, and of those attendant a r t s of embroidery and tapestry-work. The growth of the c i t i e s , the spread of trade, the con- c e n t r a t i o n of the c r a f t s i n the c i t y g u i l d s , can a l s o be seen to have i n f l u e n c e d expression i n the a r t s by i n c r e a s i n g the rate of s e c u l a r i z a t i o n of the subject-matter used and the formal patterns employed - i n music, the popular performances of the e a r l y opera;in the musical accompaniment f o r the dance; i n the drama, the gradual change from the m i r a c l e and mystery-plays to those of the r i c h and s o p h i s t i c a t e d E l i z a b e t h a n t h e a t r e ; i n a r c h i t e c t u r e , the b u i l d i n g of such magnificent s e c u l a r e d i f i c e s as the g u i l d h a l l s and town-halls; and i n general, a change from the J f e u d a l c h i v a l r i c and r e l i g i o u s values to those of c u r i o s i t y and the urge f o r knowledge i s mirrored i n the l i f e of the p e r i o d e s p e c i a l l y i n the s c i e n t i f i c enquiry of the whole age of the Renaissance -to-modern. - 9 0 - With the change in methods in the industrial revolution we arrive at similar perceptible changes in social values, and in art-expression in the emergence of bourgeois Romanticism and proletarian Realism. If we can accept(with reservations) the Spenglerian tne- ofy of culture-patterns as exclusive wholes during their time of flowering, I think we must s t i l l see the process of culture in the whole world as a gradually expanding circle of influence, as a gradually more inclusive unit within which living together can become more meaningful and gracious, and that today we must see that there are only global limits to our culture, and that this presents an even more pressing necessity for social cooper- ation within that large unit, while at the same time i t makes possible an enriched cultural expression. My thesis is this : that Spengler's analysis of western culture ( developing into Gothic,expressing i t s e l f most f u l l y in Baroque, and declining in the following bourgeois decorativ- ism) can be accepted a s illuminating the superstructure of social ^values by showing the interrelationship of the cultural drives of the arts, sciences,mathematics.a,and philosophy of any cultural pattern. It does no less certainly pervert however, or ignore, the basic importance of methods of economic production, though he does note the surface effects of industrial change, which has largely resulted in the sterile art-forms which Speng- ler notes. But, and here i s my main point of disagreement, Speng- ler ignores the basic changes wrought by those changes in method and sees the present as an extension of the exclusively western culture, decadent, save for development in technics. In contra- - 9 1 - d i s t i n c t i o n to t h i s , I see the p r e s e n t as a p e r i o d of beginnings of a new c u l t u r e , world-wide i n scope, u t i l i z i n g the media of a r t - e x p r e s s i o n developed w i t h i n western c i v i l i z a t i o n j u s t as the west used the language and law of -Rome, the r e l i g i o n of Jewish C h r i s t i a n i t y , the s c i e n c e and p h i l o s o p h y of Greece, and c r e a t i n g , a s the west d i d , i t s own motive power, and i t s own t y p i c a l l y e x p r e s s i v e statement i n the v a l u e s i n h e r e n t i n good machine design, and i n the new art-forms of r a d i o and f i l m . My f i r s t and major p o i n t of c o n t e n t i o n i s w i t h Spengler's theory of 'the form-world of economic lifefjiwhich i s the t i t l e of Chapter T h i r t e e n of Volume Two) i n d i s c u s s i n g which he says: " A l l economic l i f e i s the e x p r e s s i o n of a s o u l - l i f e " . In terms of order t h i s statement would seeia to mean t h a t Spengler f e e l B t h a t our ' s o u l - l i f e ' , our c r e a t i v e genius, shapes v i s i b l y and expresses our economic modes. My p o i n t of view i s a r e v e r s a l of t h i s • My second p o i n t of c o n t e n t i o n i s w i t h the theory that c u l t u r e i s 'dying' today. These two p o i n t s of c o n t e n t i o n f i t together i n the f o l - lowing manner. ' I f the s o u l - l i f e d i r e c t s the economic, then the f a c t ( a s Spengler contends) that our s o u l - l i f e i s dying out w i t h the gradual w i t h e r i n g of our c u l t u r e , should mean that economic- a l l y speaking, western c u l t u r e i s e q u a l l y d i s i n t e g r a t i n g . And i f he means only s p e c i f i c a l l y ' w e s t e r n ' c u l t u r e and economic l i f e , I f e e l that there i s no o b j e c t i o n to t h i s statement. But s i n c e even Spengler h i m s e l f admits i n h i s schema of development that i t i s the l a t e p e r i o d of m e g a l i p o l i t a n decadence(today) -92- i n which economics f l o u r i s h e s , I f e e l t h i s i s an e f f o r t to f i t i n an important c o n t r a d i c t i o n which shows the' f o l l y of h i s order and i n d i c a t e s the r e a l order, from economic f o r m - l i f e to a r t - r a t h e r than h i s reverse p a t t e r n . T h i s p o i n t seems important to me. I f the c o r r e c t r e l a t i o n between the c r e a t i v e f a c t o r i n man and the economic p a t t e r n of l i f e can be e s t a b l i s h e d , t h i s r e l a t i o n may be some b a s i s f o r a meaningful prognosis f o r the f u t u r e development of the c r e a t i v e a r t s w i t h i n the two e x i s t e n t economic p a t t e r n s of today. Spengler's whole s e c t i o n on the economic f o r m - l i f e seems to me to be m y s t i c i s m rampant, which though i l l u m i n a t i n g i n i t s comparisons of culture-Sat t e r n s , performs t h i s a c t of i l l u m i n a - t i o n i n such a deep purple romantic glow as to be suspect "Man", he says," has l i s t e n e d - i n to the march of IMature and made notes of i t s i n d i c e s . He begins to i m i t a t e i t by means and methods that u t i l i z e the laws of the cosmic pulse...The stock of such d i s c o v e r i e s grew and grew. Often they were made and f o r g o t t e n and made again, were imitated,shunned, improved. But i n the end they c o n s t i t u t e d f o r whole c o n t i n - ents a s t o r e of s e l f - e v i d e n t means - f i r e , m e t a l - w o r k i n g , i n - struments,arms,ploughs,boats,houses,animal- taiming and hus- bandry...On t h i s foundation, now r i s e s the h i g h e r C u l t u r e s , e x p r e s s i v e i n q u a l i t y and c o l o u r and p a s s i o n of the whole s o u l of these major e n t i t i e s . I t need h a r d l y be s a i d that C l a s s i c a l Man, who f e l t h i m s e l f and h i s environment a l i k e E u c l i d e a n , s e t h i m s e l f a p r i o r i i n h o s t i l e o p p o s i t i o n to the v e r y i d e a of technique...Very d i f f e r e n t i s the E a u s t i a n t e c h n i c s , which w i t h a l l i t s p a s s i o n of the t h i r d dimension and from e a r l i e s t Gothic days, t h r u s t s i t s e l f upon nature, w i t h the f i r m r e s o l v e to be i t s master. Here and here only, i s the connection of i n s i g h t and u t i l i z a t i o n a matter of course. Theory i s working h y p o t h e s i s from the s t a r t . . . T h e P a u s t i a n i n v e n t o r and d i s c o v e r o r i s a unique type. The prim* i t i v e f o r ce of h i s w i l l , the b r i l l i a n c e of h i s v i s i o n s , t h e s t e e l y energy of h i s p r a c t i c a l ponderings must appear queer and incomprehensible f o r anyone at the standpoint of another c u l t u r e , but f o r us they are i n the blood...They l i s t e n e d to the laws of the cosmic pulse i n order to overpower i t . And so they c r e a t e d the machine as a small cosmos obeying the w i l l of man alone...As the horse-powers run to m i l l i o n s and m i n - i m i s , the numbers of the p o p u l a t i o n i n c r e a s e and i n c r e a s e on a s c a l e t h a t not other c u l t u r e thought p o s s i b l e . T h i s growth i s a prodxcct of the machine. »pfi 25.Spengler,op.cit.,pp s .500-506. -93- Spengler sees three stages i n the development of the economic f o r m - l i f e : that of p r o d u c t i o n , the mode of the peasant; that of trade, the mode of the middleman; and one between these two, a p r e p a r a t o r y stage, or economy of t e c h n i c s which he c a l l s the mode of the c r a f t s , i n d u s t r i e s and c a l l i n g s . But nowehere does he see a group who c o u l d be c a l l e d a 'working-class', s a y i n g : "In a c t u a l i t y there i s an almost uncountable number of p u r e l y s e r v i n g a c t i v i t i e s i n workshop,and counting-houses, o f f i c e and cargo-deck,roads,mines,fields,and meadows;;;. A l l these t h i n g s are q u i t e i n c a p a b l e of b e i n g compared among themselves.. .farm-labourers,bank-clerks,and. t a i l o r ' s hands l i v e i n p e r f e c t l y d i f f e r e n t economic worlds". 27 I have quoted Spengler a t t h i s l e n g t h to make clea,r the sense i n which I have accused him - the e s s e n t i m l romanticism of h i s thought. To my way of t h i n k i n g he ignores the b a s i c i s s u e i n h i s schematic p r e s e n t a t i o n . One could say, r a t h e r , that there are these s t a g e s . . . I n d i v i d u a l s , making a l i v i n g Groups, making a l i v i n g and then go on to s p e c i f y the ways i n which the l i v i n g s are made as Marauding S o c i e t i e s Hunting,and F i s h i n g S o c i e t i e s . Hunting,Fishing,and A g r i c u l t u r a l s o c i e t i e s . H u n t i n g , F i s h i n g , A g r i c . , and Trading S o c i e t i e s . H u n t i n g , F i s h i n g , A g r i c . , T r a d i n g , and I n d u s t r i a l Soc. and then f i n a l l y , note the method of enonomic o r g a n i z a t i o n used as Group cooperation, f o r group use Some group c o o p e r a t i o n , f o r the p r o f i t of certain parts of the group, i n a competitive economy. T h i s d i f f e r e n c e i n the b a s i c m o t i v a t i o n s of the whole group would, I f e e l , a f f e c t the way every stage of c u l t u r a l a c t i v i t y developed; on the one hand a l l o w i n g f o r the f u l l development of every member, and on the other, e n f o r c i n g only p a r t i a l or d i s t o r t - ed development on the m a j o r i t y of the group. 27. Spengler,op.cit.,pps.479-80 -94- To support t h i s c o n t e n t i o n I would l i k e to c i t e i n e v i - dence the c u l t u r e - a n a l y s e s made hy Ruth Benedict and p u b l i s h e d i n her book,"Patterns of C u l t u r e " , i n which she t e l l s of the c u l t u r a l h a b i t s of many groups, among them the c o n t r a s t i n g Do- buan and T r o b r i a n d groups, o f f the southern shores of e a s t e r n New Guinea..."The Dobuans amply deserve the c h a r a c t e r they are g i v e n by t h e i r neighbours. They are l a w l e s s and treacherous; every man's hand i s a g a i n s t every other man. They l a c k the smoothly working o r g a n i z a t i o n of the T r o b r i a n d s , headed by honoured c h i e f s and m a i n t i a n i n g p e a c e f u l and r e c i p r o c a l ex- changes of food and p r i v i l e g e s . Dobu has no c h i e f s . I t cer- t a i n l y has no p o l i t i c a l o r g a n i z a t i o n . In a s t r i c t sense i t has no l e g a l i t y . And t h i s i s not because the Dobuans l i v e i n a s t a t e of anarchy,Rousseau•s ' n a t u r a l man' as y e t unhampered by the s o c i a l c o n t r a c t , but because the s o c i a l forms which o b t a i n i n Dobu put a premium on i l l - w i l l and t r e a c h e r y and make them the r e c o g n i z e d v i r t u e s of t h e i r s o c i e t y . " 28i My p o i n t here i s to show how i n a p r i m i t i v e s o c i a l group of the a g r i c u l t u r e - w i t h - a - l i t t l e - f i s h i n g - v a r i e t y , the ownership or non-ownership i n common of the l a n d and seed yams can make r a d i c a l d i f f e r e n c e s i n the customs a r i s i n g from t h i s , to me, primary d i f f e r e n c e between themm.....,.. "The j e a l o u s y and s u p i c i o n " , M i s s Benedict goes on,"the f i e r c e e x c l u s i v e n e s s of ownership that a r c c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of Dobu are a l l i n the for.egoround of Dobuan marriage, but i t i s im- p o s s i b l e to giiue them f u l l weight u n t i l we have considered a l s o t h e i r manner of l i f e i n other r e s p e c t s . The m o t i v a t i o n s that run through a l l Dobuan e x i s t e n c e are s i n g u l a r l y l i m i t e d . ..In themselves they have the s i m p l i c i t y of mania. A l l e x i s - tence i s c u t - t h r o a t competition, and every advantage i s gained a t the expense of a d e f e a t e d r i v a l . . . t h e good man, the suc- c e s s f u l man, i s he who has cheated another of h i s p l a c e . " 29. "There i s no c a s u a l coming and going i n Dobu. A path l e a d s around the o u t s k i r t s of each v i l l a g e , and those who are p r i v - i l e g e d to approach so near, s k i r t the settlement by t h i s path. As we s h a l l see, a f t e r t h e i r f a t h e r ' s death, the c h i l d r e n of the men of the v i l l a g e have not even t h i s p r i v i l e g e of ap- proach. I f the f a t h e r i s s t i l l l i v i n g , o r i f i t i s the v i l l a g e of t h e i r spouse, they may enter by. i n v i t a t i o n . A l l others pass around by the path. They may not stop. Not even r e l i g i o u s c e r - emonies,nor h a r v e s t f e a s t s , n o r t r i b a l i n i t i a t i o n s , c a l l the -95- people together promiscuously, f o r Dobu does not s p e c i a l i z e i n such o c c a s i o n s . In the centre of the v i l l a g e a grave- yard takes the p l a c e of the open communal dance-plaza of the T r o b r i a n d s " . 30. T h i s seems to p o i n t to the c e n t r a l agency of economic forms as determining the other v a l u e s of a s o c i a l group, while i n a s t a t e of c o n s i d e r a b l e a c t i v i t y w i t h them , as the modes of the econ- omic l i f e become more complex. I t may w e l l be that, owing to our i n a d e q u a t e l y r e a l i z e d system of c o o p e r a t i o n ( i n our e x i s t i n g 'Dobuan' i n t e r n a t i o n a l condi- t i o n ) , the f i n a l end of western c i v i l i z a t i o n w i l l not be the g r a d u a l w i t h e r i n g process i n r e a c t i o n to the g r a d u a l b i r t h of a world c i v i l i z a t i o n - p a t t e r n but that i t may come w i t h a c o n c l u - s i v e e x p l o s i v e gesture, wiping the s l a t e c l e a n again f o r another long s t r u g g l i n g p e r i o d of c u l t u r a l beginnings, i f i t does not a n n h i l a t e a l l c u l t u r e and l i f e , but as Dewey has remarked t h i s e n t a i l s too g r e a t a degree of s o c i a l waste. In h i s "Human Nature and Conduct", he comments o n the phrase ' h i s t o r y as a process of r e - b a r b a r i z a t i o n ' as c u l t u r e s change, saying that today t h i s i s too expensive a process as there are fewer 'new' peoples l e f t to perform the f u n c t i o n of breaking-up what he c a l l s ' c u l t u r a l a r t e r i o - s c l e r o s i s ' , and e s p e c i a l l y so, s i n c e we possess the t o o l of c u l t u r a l l o n g e v i t y i n u n i v e r s a l e d u c a t i o n . But , Dewey c r i t - i c i z e s . ... "The weight of a d u l t custom has been thrown upon r e - t a i n i n g and s t r e n g t h e n i n g tendencies toward conformity, and a g a i n s t those which make f o r v a r i a t i o n and inde- pendence ....And yet the i n t i m a t i o n never wholly d e s e r t s us that there i s i n the unformed a c t i v i t i e s of c h i l d - hood and youth (those which work toward e x p l o r a t i o n , d i s c o v e r y , and c r e a t i o n , ) the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of a b e t t e r l i f e f o r the community as w e l l as f o r i n d i v i d u a l s here and t h e r e . " 31. 28,29,30...Ruth Benedict,op.cit.,pps.120-1,130-1,122-3. 31.Dewey,op.cit.,pps.96-99. — 9.6-- There would seem to be more hope f o r the type of e d u c a t i o n - a l process , whose p o s s i b i l i t y Dewey mentions, i n a s o c i e t y where i t i s not to the vested i n t e r e s t of a powerful group to r e t a i n unchanging c u l t u r e - p a t t e r n s . I t seems to me that i n a c o o p e r a t i v e s o c i e t y i n which adequate p r o v i s i o n had been made f o r the u t i l i z a t i o n of a l l the c a p a c i t i e s of a l l people there would be an enormous fund of a c t i v e c r e a t i v e a b i l i t y which c o u l d be c a l l e d upon f o r t h i s c o n t i n u a l improvement of the commun- i t y ( the world) as a. whole. A planned economy of t h i s s o r t , i n which a l l the important resources of the country are owned by the country and operated i n i t s i n t e r e s t s as a whole e x i s t s today, at l e a s t i n embryo, i n Russia, France, Jugo-Slavia,Mexico, and England. In the ab- sence o f reputable and o b j e c t i v e c r i t i c i s m of t h e i r progress i n the a r t s we can only hope that they do p r o g r e s s . However, a book p u b l i s h e d r e c e n t l y of some use i n t h i s r e s - pect i s the 'Seven S o v i e t A r t s ' , w r i t t e n by a non-Russian who i s anything but s u b s e r v i e n t to what i s known as 'the p a r t y - l i n e ' s i n c e he does q u e s t i o n the' amount of i n t e l l e c t u a l c e n s o r s h i p , and i t does seem to be a r a t i o n a l e v a l u a t i o n of the o p p o r t u n i t y of the a r t i s t and the d i r e c t i o n which the a r t s are t a k i n g . I t does not present overwhelming evidence of genius but i t sket- ches i n the extremely complex o r g a n i z a t i o n i n v o l v e d i n o f f e r i n g the e d u c a t i o n a l f a c i l i t i e s to students, i n s u p p o r t i n g journey- men and a p p r e n t i c e a r t i s t s while they p r a c t i c e t h e i r a r t , and f o r employing the mature a r t i s t as a,major s o c i a l c o n t r i b u t o r , not a mere d e c o r a t o r or e n t e r t a i n e r . The book g i v e s some i d e a - 9 7 - of the scope of the p o s s i b i l i t i e s i n government sponsored a r t - i s t i c and s c i e n t i f i c a c t i v i t y , and i t i l l u m i n a t e s the reason why such a p r o j e c t as the U.S.A.-sponsored WPA was so i n e v i t - a b l y w a s t e f u l , s i n c e the 1 consumer' of the a r t - o b j e c t s i t prod- uced had not been i n t e r e s t e d i n them, and remained to a l a r g e degree untouched by t h i s work of s o c i a l r e c o n s t r u c t i o n . The a r t s t y p i c a l l y a f f e c t e d by a process of change toward a a world c i v i l i z a t i o n are those of a r c h i t e c t u r e and communica- t i o n . T h i s i s a f u n c t i o n a l m a n i f e s t a t i o n s i n c e the new machines of the p e r i o d had to be s t o r e d or housed i n f a c t o r i e s , the new goods s o l d i n s t o r e s , the newly concentrated commerce c a r r i e d on i n huge o f f i c e b u i l d i n g s and banks, and the new c l a s s e s of i n d - u s t r i a l workers housed i n p r i v a t e d w e l l i n g s and apartment b u i l d - i n g s . Here, can be seen the b e a u t i f u l p o s s i b i l i t i e s and s o r d i d a c t u a l i t i e s of i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n . The b e s t of t h i s new a r c h i t e c - ture was, and i s , b u i l t to f u l f i l a s p e c i f i c need, and not to provide o u t l e t s f o r the e x p r e s s i o n of p u r e l y d e c o r a t i v e i d e a s . And i n t h i s we can see the s i g n i f i c a n t d i f f e r e n c e p o i n t e d out by Mumford i n h i s "Technics and C i v i l i z a t i o n * ' i n the s e c t i o n devoted to the " A e s t h e t i c A s s i m i l a t i o n of the Machine". The i n d - u s t r i a l problems can be met i n terms of a e s t h e t i c a l l y p l e a s i n g design - the Van N e l l e F a c t o r y a t Rotterdam demonstrates that - but no l o n g e r are the designs e x p r e s s i v e of the t r a i t o f c o n s p i c - uous waste' e v i d e n t i n the l o v i n g l y e l a b o r a t e d hand-carved de- t a i l s of the Gothic c a t h e d r a l s . These b u i l d i n g s are r a t h e r i l l u s - t r a t i v e of the new and e q u a l l y t y p i c a l t r a i t of 'conspicuous ec- onomy' e v i d e n t i n a l l good machine d e s i g n . We do see, t h e r e f o r e , today, that world c u l t u r e i s emerg- -98- i n g everywhere on the globe i n the new methods of machine-produc- t i o n , and i n communication. The very technique of that p r o d u c t i o n imposes a c e r t a i n i d e a l upon i t , t h a t of uniform economy, and i t i s my purpose to see how w e l l t h a t i d e a l i s e x p r e s s i b l e i n terms of the a r t of c o l l e c t i v i s t and c o m p e t i t i v e economic o r g a n i z a - t i o n s • Mumford says t h a t whether our p o l i t i c a l or economic org- a n i z a t i o n admits the f a c t or not our machines i n t h e i r v e r y es- sence are communist.They are made to produce goods or other ma- chines whose t y p i c a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c i s t h e i r standard u n i f o r m i t y . No l o n g e r , he m a i n t a i n s , i s i t p o s s i b l e w i t h a e s t h e t i c honesty, to produce goods i m i t a t i n g the 'unique' q u a l i t y of the hand-made. Today i t i s r a t h e r p o s s i b l e to produce beautiful as well as func- tional o b j e c t s whose uniformity of d e s i g n makes possible t h e i r mass p r o d u c t i o n , as improved means of communication and distrib- u t i o n make possible t h e i r mass consumption i n the markets of the world. A reasonable usage of t h i s p o t e n t i a l i t y would r e s u l t i n the r e l e a s e of enormous s t o r e s of human energy now devoted to the s t e r i l i t i e s of a d v e r t i s i n g the q u a l i t y - g r a d e d m a t e r i a l possess- i o n s which denote f o r t h i e r owners membership i n c l a s s r e s p e c t - a b i l i t y . . Everyone everywhere c o u l d have r e a d i l y a c c e s s i b l e every m a t e r i a l o b j e c t r e q u i r e d f o r an e n r i c h e d and g r a c i o u s l i v - i n g . But t h i s i n v o l v e s the acceptance of a planned p r o d u c t i o n , to a v o i d waste , and planned d i s t r i b u t i o n to a v o i d shortages, and t h i s i n v o l v e s p r o d u c t i o n f o r use and not f o r p r o f i t . Such a theory i s v i s i b l y hot o p e r a t i n g on t h i s c o n t i n e n t . In t h i s connection, Mumford*s a n a l y s i s of the economic pro- -99- cess i s so c l e a r ^ a n d s i g n i f i c a n t that I g i v e i t a t some l e n g t h . . "The. permanent g a i n that emerges from the whole process i s i n the r e l a t i v e l y non-material elements of c u l t u r e , i n the s o c i a l h e r i t a g e i t s e l f , i n the a r t s and s c i e n c e s , i n the t r a d i t i o n s and processes of technology, or d i r e c t l y i n l i f e i t s e l f , i n those •real;-enrichments: that'- come fr.om.- e x p l o i t a t i o n . r of; organic; ener- gy i n thought and a c t i o n and emotional experience,' i n ' p l a y and adventure and drama and p e r s o n a l development - g a i n s t h a t l a s t through memory and communication beyond the immediate mo- ment i n which they are enjoyed. In s h o r t , as John Ruskin put i t , "There i s no wealth but l i f e " , and what we c a l l wealth i s i n f a c t wealth only when i t i s a s i g n of p o t e n t i a l or a c t u a l v i t a l i t y . " 32. In o u t l i n i n g what he c o n s i d e r s the e s s e n t i a l processes i n r e - l a t i o n to l i f e and energy, Mumford i s r a t h e r more r a t i o n a l than I have found Spengler to be, and he names these elementary pro- cesses : "Conversion, p r o d u c t i o n , consumption, and c r e a t i o n " , and analyses the d i r e c t i o n of each thus... "In the f i r s t two steps, the energy i s s e i z e d and prepared f o r use f o r the sustenance of l i f e ; i n the t h i r d stage, l i f e i s supported and renewed' i n order that i t may wind i t s e l f up onto h i g h e r l e v e l s of thought and c u l t u r e (fourth),, r a t h e r than being s h o r t - c i r c u i t e d back i n t o the f i r s t p r e p a r a t o r y stages.. The amount of energy a v a i l a b l e f o r the f i n a l process depends upon ( l ) how much energy i s converted by a g r i c u l t u r e and t e c h n i c s a t the b e g i n n i n g , and (2) how much energy i s e f f e c t i v e l y a p p l i e d and conserved i n t r a n s m i s s i o n . Even the Qrudest s o c i e t y has some s u r p l u s . But under the c a p i t a l i s t system the main use of the s u r p l u s i s to serve as p r o f i t s which are an i n c e n t i v e to c a p i t a l investments, which i n t u r n i n c r e a s e p r o d u c t i o n . Hence the two massive and r e c u r r i n g f a c t s i n modern c a p i t a l i s m , an enormous over-expansion of danfi and equipment; second,an e x c e s s i v e d i v e r s i o n of energy and man- power i n t o sales-promotion and d i s t r i b u t i o n . Other means of u t i l i z i n g t h i s s u r p l u s , such as education and c u l t u r a l be- quests of v a r i o u s p h i l a n t h r o p i s t s , r e l i e v e some of the bur- den of our inane waste from both the i n d i v i d u a l and i n d u s t r i a l s o c i e t y ; but there i s no c a p i t a l i s t theory of n o n - p r o f i t mak- i n g e n t e r p r i s e s and of non-consumable goods. These f u n c t i o n s e x i s t a c c i d e n t a l l y by the grace of the p h i l a n t h r o p i s t s ; they have no r e a l p l a c e i n the system... The problem of c a p i t a l i s m i s e s s e n t i a l l y not to s a t i s f y needs but to create demands." 33 My t h e s i s , i s that machine-society of today has produced, from the attendant a c t i v i t i e s to which i t g i v e s r i s e , a new-minted v e r s i o n of the humanist-coneept, of man's c e n t r a l value as the de- -100- s i g n e r of the"machine, the consumer of the p r o d u c t i v e c a p a c i t y , and the c r e a t i v e maker or user of the l e i s u r e time i t a f f o r d s . In c a p i t a l i s m , as Mumford has shown, c o n c l u s i v e l y I f e e l , t h i s v a l u a t i o n of man i s not evident, n e i t h e r i n the o r g a n i z a t i o n , nor i n the ends,or d i r e c t i o n , o f the development. The l a c k of v a l u a b l e r e l a t i o n between a r t and the other as- pects o f man's l i f e i n c a p i t a l i s t s o c i e t y i s shown by the s t e r - i l e conceptions of an 1 a r t - f o r - a r t ' s - s a k e ' e l i t e , separated from the r e a l and f u n c t i o n a l aspects of modern l i f e by a r e v u l s i o n from the f r a u d u l e n t v a l u e s encouraged by c o m p e t i t i v e p r o d u c t i o n , and v i s i b l e i n the work of the d i f f e r e n t ' s c h o o l s ' or 'isms' of t h i s d i l l e t a n t i s t approach to the p l a s t i c a r t s , and poetry, esp- e c i a l l y ; i n D a d a - i s t and S u r r e a l i s t focus on the sub-conscious p a r t of man's l i v i n g , i n the p o e t r y of the Symboliste school which devotes i t s e l f e x c l u s i v e l y to e x p l o r i n g p e r s o n a l experience as separably from the s o c i a l being of man. I f t h i s form of more or l e s s f u n c t i o n l e s s a r t seems waste- f u l , there i s an even lower category i n t o which the a r t i s t f a l l s under the c a p i t a l i s t - p a t t e r n of l i v i n g ; he may become the s l a v e - d e c o r a t o r o£ the l i v e s of t h e . ' i d l e r i c h ' and the almost e q u a l l y blank l i v e s of the c a p i t a l i s t - p o o r . T h i s form of s l a v i s h l y 'bad' a r t , i f i t can be c a l l e d a r t a t a l l , takes many forms, u s u a l l y known today as the 'business' of Entertainment, a l l of the forms e q u a l l y r e c o g n i z a b l e by a v u l g a r i t y of c o n c e p t i o n and execution considered necessary f o r commercial success. The art-forms of the f i l m and r a d i o , because of t h e i r wide popular b a s i s , and the com- p l e t e divorcement which has occurred between the l i v e s of people ai '32: and 33. Mum.fofd, "Technics and C i v i l i z a t i o n " , p p s . 3 7 7 8 , 3 7 4 - 5 - 7 . - 1 0 1 - any meaningful a r t , i s p e c u l i a r l y s u s c e p t i b l e to t h i s form of v u l g a r i z a t i o n , as has been p r e v i o u s l y noted. The magazine and other communication a r t s share i t . a l s o , and i t i s -sometimes a p p a l l i n g l y apparent i n the f i e l d s of c l o t h i n g and housing, though there a l a s t v e s t i g e of f u n c t i o n a l i s m does u s u a l l y d i c - t a t e decorum i f not o r i g i n a l i t y or beauty. These l a s t two coming c l o s e r to the a c t u a l l i v i n g of people, though they may be d i s - t o r t e d , are themselves i n f l u e n c e d by the use made of them,and, e s s e n t i a l l y u g l y , b a d l y designed and c o n s t r u c t e d homes and c l o t h - i n g fused w i t h the l i v e s and p e r s o n a l i t i e s of l i v i n g people be- come more bearable than the excesses of the l e s s - t i e d a r t i s t working completely outside the framework of v a l u e s of l i f e todajj I t i s s t i l l p o s s i b l e to produce good a r t w i t h i n t h i s frame- work as i t always p o s s i b l e , but the c o n d i t i o n s do not make f o r the r e g u l a r or i n any sense f r e q u e n t p r o d u c t i o n of such a r t . For one f i l m l i k e "The Grapes of Wrath", made from l i v i n g i d e a s and a v i t a l problem, we have hundreds of p o i n t l e s s comedies; f o r one n o v e l l i k e " U l y s s e s " , which remains meaningful i n i t s most ex- p e r i m e n t a l use of language, we have hundreds of inadequate copy- i s t s ; f o r one m a g n i f i c e n t Prank L l o y d Wright home, too many cop- i e s of a n a c h r o n i s t i c designs; f o r one Gershwin melody, express- i n g the jazzrhythms of h i s time, too many s e n t i m e n t a l d i t t i e s ; f o r one f a c t o r y making f u r n i ture from c r e a t i v e machine-designs, too many m a i l - o r d e r houses m i s - u s i n g the aame techniques to pro- duce c o p i e s of ' a n t i q u e 1 , and t h e r e f o r e ' r e s p e c t a b l e ' designs; and f o r one r a d i o s e r i e s l i k e Norman Corwin's "One world" r e p o r t on h i s world-trip,toomany p e u r i l e gag-shows and soap operas. - 1 0 2 - And the r e a l l y p e r n i c i o u s t h i n g ahout a l l t h i s i s t h a t i t i s perpetuated hy b e i n g passed on ( i n the form of r e q u i r e d h a b i t u a l responses,inadequate education, and a r t - m i s i n f o r m a t i o n ) to the f u t u r e i n the l i v e s of our c h i l d r e n . We have p e r f e c t e d many e x q u i s i t e a r t - f o r m s capable of s i g - n i f i c a n t use i n the l e i s u r e made i n c r e a s i n g l y p o s s i b l e by tech- n o l o g i c a l advances. Knowledge of,and a c t i v e p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n , these a r t - a c t i v i t i e s must be made i n c r e a s i n g l y a v a i l a b l e to wider c i r c l e s i f these art-forms are not to d i e out. I t has been r e l e - v a n t l y s t a t e d that the mechanization of a r t , and the spreading ' s p e c t a t o r 1 group able to l i s t e n or watch t h i s mechanized process and the d e c r e a s i n g amount of p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the process of a r t by amateurs,causes l e s s v i t a l and d i s c r i m i n a t i n g c r i t i c i s m of the c r e a t i v e processes, and may even l e a d to the c e s s a t i o n of the c r e a t i v e motive. T h i s danger can be seen i n almost every a r t which has be- come more or l e s s a v a i l a b l e to a l e s s d i s c r i m i n a t i n g p u b l i c who have no knowledge of the t e c h n i c a l aspect of t h e i r pleasure,and i s making a r e a l l y a r t i s t i c a l l y aware p u b l i c a narrowing r a t h e r than a widening r e a l i t y . So that though we can see the i n c r e a s e d p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r s i g n i f i c a n t l i v i n g today, we can a l s o see the dangers of the process of mechanization. Can we c o n t r o l t h i s man- i f e s t l y p o s s i b l e r i c h e s s e , or are we l i k e Dukas' ' s o r c e r e r ' s ap- p r e n t i c e ' going to be completely deluged by i t s unleashed demonic power ? -The p h i l o s o p h i c a l i m p l i c a t i o n s of t h i s q u e s t i o n are r e a l - i z e d by a r t i s t s today. There are always , i n a l l p e r i o d s , rare i n t e l l e c t s who use t h e i r i n t e l l e c t u a l a b i l i t i e s meaningfully.And - 1 0 3 - i n many a r t i s t s working today these a r t i s t i c g i f t s are being used w i t h honesty and d i f f i c u l t y to express the p o s i t i v e v a l u e s of the p r e s e n t , and c r i t i c a l l y to assess our s o c i a l s i t u a t i o n , and i t ' i s i n t h e i r work that the new c u l t u r a l p a t t e r n I have been des- c r i b i n g can be seen e v o l v i n g . Witness to t h i s there i s i n some p l e n t y . . . t h e p r e v i o u s l y mentioned "Grapes of Wrath" of Steinbeck; C l i f f o r d Odets' f i l m , "None But The L o n e l y Heart"; Diego R i v e r a ' s r e v o l u t i o n a r y use of f r e s c o e ; E n g l i s h a r c h i t e c t u r a l designs f o r new schools b u i l t d u r i n g recent bombardments; and the work of the Chinese l i t e r a r y a r t i s t s i n a i d of t h e i r country's enormous e d u c a t i o n a l needs. We can hope that some u n i v e r s a l l y adopted scheme of coop- e r a t i v e l i v i n g w i l l outlaw war, by r e n d e r i n g i t unnecessary; w i l l a b o l i s h a d v e r t i s i n g by b a n i s h i n g want; and w i l l make p o s s i b l e the c r e a t i v e p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n l i v i n g by everyone everywhere which i s necessary i f we are to f u l l y r e a l i z e the i m p l i c a t i o n s f o r an e n r i c h e d l i v i n g we have seen to be p o s s i b l e i n our stage of t e c h - n o l o g i c a l .advancement. I would l i k e to conclude w i t h an e n u n c i a t i o n from Diego R i v e r a ' s " P o r t r a i t of America" "The s o c i a l development of our time i s a continuous ac- c e l e r a t e d march towards c o l l e c t i v i z a t i o n . . . T o m o r r o w , a r c h - i t e c t u r e , the mother of a l l the p l a s t i c a r t s , w i l l be r a t i o n - a l i z e d , w i l l slough o f f the l e p r o u s s c a l e s of i t s t r a d i t i o n - a l •rnamentation and vomit the u s e l e s s trumpery and h o r r i b l e gingerbread adornments from i t s w a l l s , i n order to s u b s t i - tute f o r these a d w e l l i n g whose b r i g h t w a l l s are s p l e n d i d - l y i l l u m i n a t e d by great spaces of g l a s s and l i g h t - a d w e l l - i n g s u i t a b l e to the c e r e b r a l f u n c t i o n i n g of c i v i l i z e d man who has conquered h i m s e l f by means of the machine he has b u i l t . " E p i l o g u e : 11 S o c i e t y i s indeed a c o n t r a c t . . .But the S t a t e ought not to be c o n s i d e r e d as n o t h i n g b e t t e r than a p a r t n e r s h i p agree- ment... to be taken up f o r a l i t t l e temp- o r a r y i n t e r e s t , and to be d i s s o l v e d by the fancy o f the p a r t i e s I t i s a p a r t n e r s h i p i n a l l s c i e n c e ; a p a r t n e r s h i p i n a l l a r t ; a p a r t n e r s h i p i n every v i r t u e , a n d i n a l l p e r f e c t i o n . And,as the ends o f such a p a r t n e r s h i p cannot be o b t a i n e d i n many g e n e r a t i o n s , i t becomes a p a r t n e r s i p not o n l y between those who are g i v i n g , but between those who are l i v i n g , t h o s e who are dead, and those who are to be born," Edmund Burke Appendix A, : B i b l i o g r a p h y , c o v e r i n g the f i e l d o f the primary sources, and c r i t i c a l s t u d i e s , o f which my r e a d i n g has c o n s i s t e d . BIbl-foeraphy General : I . Oswald Spengler,"The D e c l i n e o f %he West",New York, Knopf,1928,volumes one and two. 2 , S.Reinach,"Apollo, an I l l u s t r a t e d manual o f the h i s t - oj^y^of a r t through the ages",N.Y.?Scribner 3. Sheldon Cheyney,"A World H i s t o r y o f A r t " , V i k i n g Pres3 New York,19^5. P i t i r i m S o r o k i n , " S o c i a l and C u l t u r a l Dynamics",Vol . 1 New York,American Book Co.,1937. 5»Arisiotle's " P o e t i c s " , London,Macmillans,1 9 2 5 . 6. "Encyyclopedia o f the Arts',' the P h i l o s o p h i c a l L i b . New York, 1 9 ^ . 7. Ruth B e n e d i c t , "Patterns o f Culture",New York,Pen- g u i n Books Inc., 1 9 ^ . 8. J.H.Randall,"The Making o f the Modern Mind",Boston and N.Y.?Houghton,Mifflin Co.,1926. 9. Henry S.Lucas,"A Short H i s t o r y o f C i v i l i z a t i o n " , N.Y. & London,McGraw-Hill,19^ 3 . 10. Regina Schoolman and C h a r l e s S l o t k i n , " T h e S t o r y o f A r t " , N.Y.,Halcyon House,19^+0. I I , E r n s t P f u h l , " M a s t e r p e i e c e s o f Greek Drawing and P a i n t i n g " , London,Chatto & Windus, ' 2 6 . 12. Sidney J a n i s , " A b s t r a c t and S u r r e a l i s t i c A r t i n America", N.Y.,Reynal&Hitchcock, 1 9 M + . 13. John Dewey,"Human Nature and Conduct",N.Y.,The Modern Library,1 9 3 0 . lV. " A r t News Annual" pub.by the A r t News Magazine, a memorial i s s u e c e l e b r a t i n g t h e i r 75th a n n i v e r s a r y w i t h a "5000 Years of A r t E x h i b i t " . 15. Plato,"She Republic",London,Macmillans,1 9 ^ 1;esp. Book X. 16. V i r g i l ' s "Aeneid". 17. C i c e r o ' s "De Senectute". 18. Dante's " V i t a Natva " 19. B o c c a c c i o 1 s " I I F i l o s t r a t o " 20. Chaucer's"The Canterbury T a l e s " and "TRoilus and Criseyde",Robinson e d l . 21. Da V i n c i , " T h e Notebooks",N.Y.,Garden C i t y Pub.Co., 19^1-2. 22. Thomas Aquinas,"The Summa Contra Gentlies",London, Burns,Oates,&Washburne Ltd. , 1 9 2 3 , sections . o f Vol.one and two and p o r t i o n s o f the "Summa T h e o l o g i c a " quoted i n secondary sources. 23. M o n t a i g n e , " E s s a y e s " , F l o r i o trans.,Modern L i b r a r y Ed. 2h.Rabelais,"The Adventures o f Gargantua and P a n t a g r u e l 2 5 .Shakespeare 1 s "Plays',1 K i t t r e d g e e d i t i o n . Oi) 2 6 . " G i o t t o " , C a r l o C a r r a , V e r l a g - V a l o r i Plastici-Rom.192 5 2 7 . "Hans Memling",Maur GuillaumejMarion Press,Paris, 1 9 3 9 2 8 . "The P a i n t i n g s o f Jan Vermeer"Phaidon Ed.London,'HO 2 9 . " S e l e c t e d F a i n t i n g o f Rembrandt" ,Phaidon Ed.,London 19^2. 3 0 . "The P a i n t i n g s o f Raphael",Phaidon Ed.,London,*hl 3 1 . "The P a i n t i n g s o f Michelangelo",Phaidon Ed.London 3 2 . "Donatello",Phaidon E d i t i o n , London,19H-1 3 3 . "Leondardo Da V i n c i " , P h a i d o n Ed.London,'hi. 3M-. "Hogarth", from "The Studio",London, 1 9 2 6 . 3 5 . "Toulouse-Lautrec",Gustave C o q u i o t j V e r l a g ErnstWasmuth A=G,Berlin. 3 6 . "The L i f e and Work o f Edgar Degas",J.B.Manson;"The Studio",London,1 9 2 7 . 3 7 . "The F i l m Sense",Sergei Eisenstein}Harcourt,Brace&Co N.Y. ,19*+2. 3 8 . "Modern A r t : P i c a s s o " ; Knopf;New York,1 9 3 0 3 9 . " A f t e r Picasso",J.T.SobyjN.Y.,Dodd,Mead & Co.,1935 M O . " P a u l K l e e " par W i l l Grohmann,Editions "Cahiers D'Art",Rue du DragonmParis V I . H i . " P o r t r a i t o f America" Diego Rivera,London,GeorgeAllen & Unvin Ltd.,1 9 3 5 H-2. "The New A r c h i t e c t u r e i n Mexico",Esther B 0 rn;The Ach- i t e c t u r a l Record;Morrow & Co.,New York, ' 3 7 H-3. "The I n t e r n a t i o n a l S t y l e : A r c h i t e c t u r e s i n c e 1 9 2 2 " Hitehcock& Johnson; W.W.Norton Inc,JM. Y.',193 2 M+. " I n t r o d u c t i o n to Contemporary C i v i l i z a t i o n 3n the West", a source book,Col.U.Press,1 9 ^ 6 ^ 5 . Lewis Mumford,"The C u l t u r e of C i t i e s " "Technfci and C i v i l i z a t i o n " k6.Oscar Wilde,"The s o u l o f M a n Under S o c i a l i s m " M-7.Van G o g h , " L e t t e r s " , h8.Edmund W i l s o n , c r i t i c i s m i n "Axel's C a s t l e " , " T h e T r i p l e T h i n k e r s " and "The Wound and theBow" M-9.James Joyce, n o v e l s : "The P o r t r a i t o f the A r t i s t as a Young Man", "Stephen Hero","Ulysses" and "Finnegans Wage". 5 0 . Herbert Read, "Phases of E n g l i s h Poetry",esp. the f i n all essay. 5 1 . "The C o l l e c t e d Poetry o f Wystan Auden",Random House, New York,19H-5. 5 2 . T . S . E l i o t , " T r a d i t i o n and Experiment", 53 . " P r a t e r V i o l e t " , a n o v e l o f the making o f a f i l m , c o n t a i n i n g e x c e l l e n t c r i t i c i s m o f I t s s o c i a l f u n c t i o n , b y C h r i s t o p h e r IsherwoodjRandom House,New York,1 9 ^ 5 . 5Lt-.Ralph F 0 x , "The Novel and the People", V i k i n g P r e s s , New Y o r k , 1 9 M 6 . 5 5»Roger Fry,"Transformations",Brentano's,New York; " V i s i o n and Design",Penguin Books. 5 6 .Yrjo Hirn,"The O r i g i n s o f Art",London,Macmillans, 1 9 0 0 5 7 . Ogden,Richards,Wood, "The -foundations of A e s t h e t i c s " George ^ l l e n & Ihwin Ltd,London, 1 9 2 2 . 5 8 . David Wyndham Lewis,"Men Without A r t " , C a s s e l &Co., London, 1 9 3 ^ 5 9 . C h a r l e s Morris,"Foundations f o r a theory o f s i g n s " , I n t e r n a t i o n a l E n c y c l o p e d i a of U n i f i e d Science volume 1 . number 2 . - 6 0 . W.R.Letha;by, '[Medieval A r t " , London,Duckworth & CO. 190*+, Chapters t h r e e and f o u r , 6 1 . E l i e . F a u r e , " H i s t o r y of A r t " , V o l . 2 . " M e d i e v a l A r t " , London,Harpers, 1 9 2 3 Byzantium,pps. 2 0 7 - 2 3 0 . Islam,pps. 2 3 1 - 2 6 0 . C h r i s t i a n i t y , p p s . 2 6 1 - 3 2 2 . 6 2 . "Modern French P a i n t i n g " , H y p e r i o n P r e s s , P a r i s . 6 3 . Ogden & Richards,"The Meaning of Meaning" and 6 ^ . R i c h a r d s , " P r a c t i c a l Criticism",London,Kegan,Paul, * 3 0 "a survey o f l i t e r a r y judgment". 6£VAtlantic Monthly',', "Harper s", t'New Yorker", " A r t News Magazine", "The S t u d i o " , "The A r c h i t e c t u r a l Record", "Theatre A r t s " , " S t o r y " , and other magazines devoted to p r i n t i n g " the works of a r t r e p r e s e n t a t i v e of the present , or o f e v a l u a t i n g t h e i r s i g n i f i c a n c e . Appendix B. : Major Epochs i n Western A r t ; from Sheldon Cheyney's " A World H i s t o r y o f A r t " . I f r 3> V) 0 -1 n asp-' a S f » IS* -1 n> a TV § -fa o o i t 0 (A 3 » 3 3 Q (6 * 0 8 r 3t IfOOO B.C. 3000 2000 1000 500 A.D. 500 A.D. 800 - 1000 1100 1200 1300 l ! f 0 0 1500 1600 1700 1800 | L 1900 2000 A. D . , 
work_iz2p7z2tazfppfz677r2qrqhki	----	Universalism vs. Particularism: On the Limits of Major Power Order* PETER WALLENSTEEN Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University, Department of Political Science, University of Michigan Relations between major powers can be described as shifting between universalism and particularism. In periods of universalism, major powers try to work out acceptable rules of behavior among one another, whereas in periods of particularism, they emphasize special interests of special powers. The way historians see shifts in major power relations since 1816 largely follows such a classification. By comparing the policies pursued during four periods of universalism and four periods of particularism, as well as analysing what ended or initiated such periods, the limits of major power universalism can be evaluated. Particularly, the short-comings of the recent period of detente are illuminated. Also some principles for a more enduring form of universalism are suggested. 1. Universalism vs. particularism Autonomy has been a most cherished value for major powers throughout history. It has been a motivating force for smaller powers to free themselves from the influence of others. Libera- tion has been the ambition of revolutionaries. Still, at no time has autonomy been more restrained than today, even for the major powers. Nuclear threats and strategic doctrines link even the most powerful to one another and restrict the space for independent action. In spite of nuclear vulnerability, major powers can pursue policies to further their particularist interest as witnessed in Eastern Europe, West Asia or Central America. Also, they may pursue policies of universalist application, taking into account legitimate interests of others as witnessed during the period of detente. In this sense, nothing is new. Similar options have always been available to major powers, and, at some period in time, universalism has been preferred to particularism. This study analyses experiences of major power universalism as opposed to particularism: what has historically been the difference, what has been the result, why have policies shifted and which lessons can be drawn? Universalist policies are understood to be concerted efforts among major powers to organize relations between themselves to work out acceptable rules of behavior (general standards). Particularist policies, in contrast, are understood to be policies which emphasize the special interest of a given power, even at the price of disrupting existing organizations or power relationship.’ In the first case, the aim is order, but this is not to say that order is the result or that disorder necessarily follows from the other. On the contrary, some would argue that the pursuit of self-interest is creating more order than is altruism, as it redirects imbalances in power distribution and makes possible the voicing of grievances. Thus, it is for the historical record to decide whether universalism or particularism results in war. This formulation of the problem is hardly novel or original, but still there have been few efforts to systematically compare the outcome of the different set of policies. Under the concept of world order fruitful incursions into the area have been made by the Institute * This article is part of an ongoing project on Armed Conflicts and Durable Conflict Resolution, at the Department of Peace and Conflict Research, Uppsala University. Valuable comments have been made by many readers of an earlier draft, notably Nils Petter Gleditsch, Miroslav Nincic, Melvin Small, and Raimo V&auml;yrynen, as well as by students in my seminar on War and World Politics, University of Michigan, winter 1984. 244 for World Order, as well as by scholars like Stanley Hoffmann.2 The conceptions might be different, but mostly they point in a similar direction: world order policies aim at including more than the particularistic interest of a given actor as the actor’s goals. There is, in other words, a more universalistic ambition. Apart from preserving the actor itself as an actor, there is also an understanding of the demands and worries of the opponent. Obviously, the structural framework in which such globalistic policies are carried out differ; the Institute for World Order in general wants to go beyond the nation-state, and develop policies more fitting for local (’smaller’) actors, whereas the Hoffmann conception clearly focuses on the role of the major powers. Here it suffices to note that the structure of the global system makes it necessary to point to the significance of the major powers and their mutual relations. It is also evident that mutual relations between these powers tend to undergo dramatic shifts and changes, swinging between more univer- salistic and more particularistic emphases. Thus, major powers pursuing universalistic policies would, for some, be world order policies. For others, this might still be un- satisfactory if the basic question is policies by whom? It is self-evident that there are limits to universalism of the major powers. Their status as major is not to be threatened. On the contrary it constitutes the postulate of their policies. Thus, at some point, the divergent definitions of world order also become in- compatible, boiling down to the question of whether, in the long-run, major powers are to remain majors or not. Individual actors can have individual orders of preference and priorities can change over time. However, we are interested in the col- lectivity of major powers. General standards are general only to the extent they have support from many actors. Major powers are significant in setting such standards and in achieving adherence to them. Thus, if a collectivity of major powers, tacitly or openly, sets .up certain rules of behavior and applies them consistently over time, this will have an effect beyond the collectivity. If, on the contrary, there are no such agreed rules, particularism is likely to become a predominant pattern. Here the focus is on comparing periods of collective major power universalism, and on contrasting them to periods of predominant particularism. Historical experiences of universalism can give insight into useful methods, but also into the limits of such efforts. The study of particularism might yield knowledge of legitimate dissatisfaction with existing arrangements. I f a given - formal or informal - collective arrangement con- stantly works to the advantage of some and to the disadvantage of others, the arrangement itself becomes questioned. 2. Identifying universalism and particularism Since the Napoleonic era, there have been several serious attempts at creating universalist relations among major powers. These attempts, initiated by major powers, have built on the consent of all or most major powers. They have sometimes been constructed around particular organizations (such as the League of Nations) or around more informal arrange- ments (such as the Concert of Europe). Common to them is the ambition to develop general rules of behavior among the major powers, and attempts to reconcile differences so as to maintain the consensus among the involved powers. Thus, what historians refer to as periods of concerts, orders, or detente, is what we here label universalism. Such periods are delimited on two grounds. First, there has to be a certain consistency and continuity in the policies pursued by the major powers within the particular period. Secondly, there has to be a marked difference (qualitative break) between these policies and those in the following period. The analysis, in other words, has a double task: to find the consistent elements within a given period and to find the important factors contributing to the qualitative change in relations. Table I reproduces eight periods of universalist and particularist policies among major powers since the Napoleonic age. The periodization is drawn from customary historical writing. The organizing principle is that of policy. 245 Table 1. Universalism and Particularism, 1816-1976. Periodil.ation of Relations among Major Powers. Note: Major Power definitions follows the usual (’orrelates of War practice. (See Small & Singer 1982, pp. 44-45.) > The periods are separated with respect to the existence or non-existence of a consistent effort among the major powers to pursue universalist ambitions. These periods are our units of analysis in the following.3 3 Table I gives some characteristics of each of the periods, at the same time explaining the var ious delimitations. However, some com- ments are necessary. The European Concert of 1816-1848 is recognized by historians as a period of its own, centered on the activities of the Austrian Chancellor Metternich, but involving all the major European powers. The revolutions of 1848, rather than those of 1830, are seen to mean the ending of this period. The following period was one exhibiting many of the marks of particularism, as we have defined it. Several countries were, in this period, pursuing more limited ambitions (notably unification and aggrandizement). Thus, in the writings of historians, also this period stands out clearly. The following two periods are more difficult to separate. Bismarck’s policy had a universalist coloring, where the definition of Germany’s interest was not equated with the expansion of the Reich, but rather the establishment of a workable relationship, cementing what had already been gained. Germany, then, was a central force in this attempt at universalist construction. Following the downfall of Bismarck, and the rise of a more daring political leadership in Germany, the situation changed during the 1890s. The exact dating might be hard to pinpoint, but the difference is there. Here it has been set as 1895, but that is an approximation. It should be noted that also other, non-European countries, at this time, began to pursue particularistic interests (United States and Japan). The organization created after the First World War was a more conscious attempt to work out constructive relations among the majors, this time centering on France and Britain. However, the universalism was incomplete, a great number of countries were not involved or supportive of these attempts, and with Hitler’s taking of power in 1933, the arrangement rapidly fell apart. Finally, following the Second World War, the alliance between the victors, containing a potential for universalist relations, was quickly changed into a severe confrontation. Not until after the Cuban missile crisis did a period of more constructive relations emerge. This means that our analysis will concentrate on eight periods, four of each type. It is interesting to note, from Table 1, that there is more consensus among historians on the labelling of periods of universalism. The particularist periods are not dominated by one overarching ambition, and consequently, the naming becomes problematic. There is, however, one exception to that, the period 1945-1962. The bipolarization of the con- frontation between the United States and the Soviet Union has given it one customary label. Universalism in this bipolar world has, how- ever, attracted two different conceptions, sug- gesting that there might, at this time, be more 246 Stable 11. Wars and Military Confrontations Involving Major Powers, in Universalist and Particularist Periods, i816-t9’16. Source: Wars: Small & Singer (1982). Military Confrontations: Data from the Correlates of War project, 1980. agreement about conflict than about colla- boration. The fact that the periods in general appear to become shorter, and. that the universalist periods are smaller relative to the particularist ones, might be indicative of a general rise in confrontation among major powers. The development of conflict behavior in the different periods can be seen more closely in Table II. Table II shows a different pattern for the two sets of policies. There are no major-major wars reported in the periods of universalism, whereas all the major-major wars are to be found in periods of particularism. This observation should be treated cautiously, however, as it could be affected by the labelling. Historians might be quicker to find an orderly pattern in periods without major power wars, and thus we would face a tautology. It might, however, also suggest that universalist policies are successful, at least with respect to major power relations. As the ambition is to develop constructive relations, and as a dominant group among the majors agree on this, major power war could be avoided. An indication is that no periods of universalism end with the outbreak of a major power war. Rather, such wars come way into a period of particula- rism.4 Furthermore, it could be noted in Table II that there is some conflict behavior recorded in all other categories. One third of all major power confrontations have taken place in periods of universalism. This might mean that such periods have witnessed a somewhat greater ability to cope with confrontation than have periods of particularism: none escalated into a major war. With respect to major-minor con- frontations, fewer escalated into war in periods of universalism than in periods of particularism. The ratio of wars to confrontation (a rough measure of escalation) for all categories shows a lower frequency of war per confrontation in periods of universalism. This reinforces, although does not prove, the thesis that major power policies have a significant bearing on the chances for war. If such relations are couched in a cooperative, constructive fashion, the danger of war might decrease. Many of the typical structural traits that often are pointed to in order to explain differences will not help in discriminating between these periods; often the same countries found themselves involved in both. The five states making up the Concert of Europe are also those involved in the following, more tumultuous period. Similarly, the countries setting up the League in 1919 are also those confronted with German challenges in the 1930s. The actors of the global competition after World War II, from 1963 onward, attempted to work out an orderly relationship. Thus, it appears more promising to relate such changes to short-term variations rather than to lasting properties of the global system. Let us only note that as none of the four periods of universalism have lasted, but all have been transformed into periods of particularism, the inadequacies of the policies pursued need to be specified. The shifts and changes obviously give food for thought to the pessimist as well as to the optimist: no period of universalism has lasted, but neither has a period of particularism. 247 3. Universalism and particularism in practice The strongly different outcomes of periods of universalism and particularism make a closer scrutiny important. Thus, we ask what the differences in policy consist of. The eight periods of major power relations differ from one another in many ways. The economic conditions, the reach of weapons, the speed of communication, the ideological framework have greatly changed over time. Thus, the periods are comparable in some respects but not in others. A comparison over time becomes less comprehensive the longer the time span applied. In this case, it means that con- siderable detail is lost in the search for general phenomena. Still, a general observation, such as the shifts in the predominant pattern of policy, could be expected to be associated with a general explanation. In this light we attempt to search for discriminating patterns of policies in some admittedly limited, but still crucial areas. First, Table II suggests a difference in symmetric and asymmetric relations: major powers might approach one another differently from how they approach non-majors at the same time. Thus, we will compare the ex- periences of universalism and particularism in both these relationships. Second, the analysis employs a framework of four sets of policy, introduced in earlier work: Geopolitik, Realpolitik, Idealpolitik and Kapitalpolitik. 5 Geopolitik is, in particular, concerned with the geographical conditions: contiguity and ways to handle contiguity, as well as control over distant (from the point of view of core countries) territories. Realpolitik emphasizes military capability, arms build-up of particular countries and the formation of alliances. Ideal- politik concerns the handling of nationalistic or ideological disputes, ranging from mes- sianism to neutrality with respect to such issues, whereas Kapitalpolitik refers to the economic capabilities and interactions among states. The difference between the two patterns in Geopolitik terms can be seen in the different policies pursued in the ’core’ areas, in territories particularly close or militarily significant to the major powers. During several periods of universalism, conscious attempts were made to separate the parties geographically, thus attempting to reduce the fear of attack or the danger of provocation. The creation of buffer zones was a particularly pronounced effort, for instance, in relation to France after 1814 or Germany after 1918. In times of particularism, policies were reversed: the buffer zones were perceived as dangerous areas of ’vacuum’, making majors compete for control. Examples are the Prussian expansion into Central Europe in the 1850s and the 1860s and Germany’s invasion of demilitarized zones or neighboring countries during the 1930s. Also, following the Second World War, the United States as well as the Soviet Union tried to secure as much territory as possible before and after the German and Japanese capitulations. Indeed, in the 1945-1962 period, ’free’ territory was equally disliked on both sides, neither being willing to accept neutrality or neutralism, for instance. In the periods 1870-1895 and 1963-1975 such basic arrange- ments were left intact, keeping the parties at close geographical confrontation, but at the same time other measures were instituted to somewhat reduce the fear of attack from the opponent (e.g. confidence-building measures in the latter period). Compared to earlier experiences of universalism, these periods saw less of such attempts, however.6 Looking at the major-minor relations, the patterns are less clear-cut. Although the expectation might be for ’softer’ attitudes during periods of universalism, this appears not to be born out. Rather, during periods of universalism, major powers tried to establish or extend control, as in periods of particularism. Perhaps there is a discernable trend of greater major power collaboration during the former than during the latter. Thus, the colonization of Africa took place largely during a period of universalism, and partly this process was mutually agreed on by the major powers themselves (notably the Berlin Congress in 1884-1885). Similarly, British and French control were extended into Arab countries during such periods, during the 1880s as well 248 as in the 1920s. It is, furthermore, interesting to observe that the decolonization process was initiated during a period of confrontation between the major powers. The peak year of African independence, 1960, coincided with particularly tense times in American-Soviet relations (e.g. the aborted Paris summit meeting and the U-2 affair). Realpolitik concerns itself with military power and alliance patterns. In periods of universalism, we would expect less emphasis to be put on military armaments, while greater efforts would go into diplomatic means to work out major power relations. Studying the four periods, this is clearly true for three, but not for the fourth one (1963-1976). Conversely, the periods of particularist policies would exhibit a more rapid arms build-up among the majors. Again, this is true for three out of four periods, the exception being the 1849- 1870 period. Partly, this might reflect an important inter-century difference: during the 19th century, the institutionalized pressures for arms build-up did not exist to the same degree that has been true for the 20th century. With respect to the nuclear age, the patterns are somewhat surprising. In terms of military expenditures, the increase seems less striking during the 1950s than during the 1960s or 1970s, for the United States and the Soviet Union. In terms of the amassing of nuclear arsenals, however, there is a continuous increase for both sides.7 Again, the 1963-1976 period does not follow the pattern of previous universalist periods. Most periods of universalism seem associated with a loose alliance system. The exception is the 1963-1976 period, but also in this period there are some elements of a loosening-up of the system (notably the withdrawal of France from military cooperation in NATO, and Rumania taking a special position within the Warsaw Pact). However, also particularism could go well with a loose alliance pattern, as alliances might restrain rather than give freedom to a given actor. Three periods of particularism showed fairly tight alliance patterns, but in one of these (1933-1945) not all powers were involved in the alliance con- figurations. In one, the 1849-1870 period, loose alliances served the particularist ambitions well. There is an interesting trade off between alliance patterns and arms build-up. In a sense, one reason for entering into an alliance is to reduce the need for armaments. In this way, a major power can increase its military strength, at a lower cost and at a faster rate than otherwise would have been possible. This, then, favors the emergence of loose alliance patterns, and thus makes it plausible that universalism as well as particularism might be associated with such a pattern. On the other hand, if the alliances are closely knit, and the option of withdrawing or switching is not available, the only way to increase the strength for a given actor and for the alliance as a whole is through arms build-ups. Thus, in bipolarized situations with ’permanent’ alliances, arms races become a more likely outcome. The few examples available of such situations indeed suggest this to be the case (1895-1918, 1933-1945 and the post-1945 periods). Armaments and alliance patterns largely concern the relations between major powers. We would expect Realpolitik policies in major- minor relations to be less different for the two patterns. Thus, it is noteworthy that, in Table II above, universalist periods have also been periods of extensive major power involvement in major-minor disputes. If we take into account the length of the periods and the number of majors, we find that the majors, in fact, during such periods are heavily con- cerned with minors. With respect to Idealpolitik, universalist policies would be less chauvinistic and less messianic among majors than particularism. Earlier it has been demonstrated that Ideal- politik contradictions correlate with wars and confrontations among major powers for the entire epoch (Wallensteen 1981), but we now expect a pattern of shifting periods. It is probably enough to have one major displaying messianism in a given period to upset all relations. This expectation is well borne out: the four universalist periods show very little of either of these types of Idealpolitik, whereas, 249 in each of the four particularist periods, there was at least one major power pursuing such a policy. Chauvinism certainly was part of the German unification policy during Bismarck, as was French renaissance during Napoleon III, both appearing in the same 1849-1870 period. The policies of Wilhelm II and of Hitler are typical examples. In the 1945-1962 period too there was a strong element of messianism, for very different reasons than previous ones, in Soviet as well as American postures. In their relations to minor powers, the majors have often been less constrained, also in times of universalism. Thus, in the Concert of Europe period, majors did not hesitate to intervene against changes in minor countries going against the convictions held by the major. In the 1870-1895 period, this might have been less marked, as this to a large degree was a period of parallel nationalism, as well as in the period of the League of Nations. In the detente period, however, the reluctance among the majors to accept dissent within areas of their domination has drawn increasing tension, also among the majors. Thus, the Soviet invasion of Czechoslovakia significantly affected the formulation of detente policies. The American warfare in Vietnam seems to have slowed down the pace of collaboration between the two superpowers. Thus, a policy of coexistence between the majors also might require the acceptance of coexistence between different social forms in major-minor relations. As to Kapitalpolitik patterns, there are some interesting divergencies, necessitating a lengthier discussion. Universalism would here refer to a policy that attempts to be more inclusive, such as setting up of a joint inter- national regime for economic affairs, or ex- tending trade, investment or capital flows in an equitable way among the major powers. Particularist policies, on the contrary, would be those that aim at self-reliance, autarchy or exclusion from ties with other countries. Taken in this way, there seems to be little relationship between the universalist policies described previously and economic relations. Thus, in the period of the European Concert, introvert policies or policies of exclusion seem to have been the predominant pattern. Free trade actually cannot be dated until the end of this very period, with the repeal of the Corn Laws in Britain in 1846. The following period, then, is one of a more ambitious attempt at spreading international trade, pressing for free trade. An important break- through was the Anglo-French Treaty of 1860, during a period which, in terms of other affairs, is most appropriately described as a particularist one. Prussia and the German Customs Union followed in this period, to return to high tariff policies only in the next period, in 1879. Thus, this universalist period is characterized by a retreat from free trade, rather than the reverse (Kindleberger 1978). In the period of particularism leading to the First World War, the growth of international trade was strong, but it appears that it also to a larger degree took place within the colonial empires (Kindleberger 1964). Thus, in this period, there might have been a closer cor- respondence with particularism. The same is true for the post-World War I periods, the universalist period being one of increasing international interdependence, followed after the Great Depression with increasing attempts at withdrawing from the international economic exchanges. Also, in the post-1945 periods, there is a correspondence between the economic policies and other policies. Thus, for the first, particularist period, the West clearly expanded free trade within its area, but consciously tried to exclude the Soviet bloc from trade (e.g. the strategic embargo). Such policies were partially reversed with the onset of detente, symbolized by the first major grain deal between the United States and the Soviet Union in 1963. In US-Soviet as well as in West European-East European relations, the develop- ment of economic relations was strongly favored by the political leadership.9 Thus, we find that in several of the periods there has been a close correspondence between increasing economic interaction and univer- salism, but that this is perhaps more pronounced for the periods after 1895 than before. In 250 Table Ill. Typical Policies in Periods of Universalism and Particularism, 1816-1976. Periods are the unit of analysis. In parenthesis: periods departing from the overall pattern. Few systematic differences concern direct major-minor relations. periods of particularism, however, policies of economic bloc-building or economic autarchy have been preferred. The closer correspondence between these sets of policies in the 20th century might suggest closer coordination of inter- national interaction than previously was the case. Political-strategic conditions seem in- creasingly to have colored economic relation- ship. Table III shows that the policies pursued in different areas have been designed to support one another, and on the whole, few contradictions or inconsistencies are to be reported. Thus, periods of universalism have generally involved attempts at separation of majors through buffer zone arrangements or self-imposed restraint in vital areas. Pre- dominantly a pattern of slow arms build- ups and loose alliances has been pursued. Ideologically, a policy of coexistence has- prevailed and economically, trade has been extended among the dominant countries. Taken together, this means that the concept of ’universalism’ summarizes consistent efforts among many major powers, working in the same direction of building constructive and multi-dimensional relations. We have already observed, in Table II, that in such periods the incidence of war and confrontation among major powers is lower. The patterns displayed in periods of particularism are in sharp contrast. Buffer zone arrangements have been overturned, less restraint has been exhibited in vital areas, rapid arms build-ups have occurred and solid, internationally binding alliances have been formed. Among at least some of the majors, messianism/chauvinism has been prevalent, and trade has been used as an instrument for coercion or exclusion. Again this is a pattern of internally consistent policies, all rein- forcing the underlying conflict between major powers. Indeed, as we have already noted, periods of particularism are also periods with major power wars and military confrontations. However, there are some notable incon- sistencies in these patterns. Most exceptional is the 1849-1870 period: in several ways it had traits also typical for the periods immediately preceding or succeeding: loose alliance structures and little arms build-up, apart from the time immediately before a major war. Thus, in these respects, there is considerable intra-19th century similarity. Also, with respect to economic relations, this period was one of free trade becoming more acceptable as a general policy, and countries, in most other respects aiming at their own self- aggrandizement, embraced the concept. This, then, is in contrast to the other 19th century periods, which both were, for a considerable extent of time, markedly inner- or intra-bloc- oriented. For the 20th century the inconsistencies are few but still obvious. First, the 1933-1944 period showed less solidification of opposing blocs than could be expected. Secondly, the 251 period 1963-1976 saw a notable lack of the loosening of blocs that previously had been associated with universalist patterns, and most markedly, a failure to curtail the arms build- up and accept internal dissent. Looking over the entire period, most of these inconsistencies refer to the Realpolitik domain; the alliances and the armaments do not correspond with the message from other policies. In Geopolitik terms, the consistency is fairly complete (with some exceptions as to buffer zone policies), as is also the case for Idealpolitik, and Kapitalpolitik (with the exceptions of the 19th century pointed to). In one period the Realpolitik divergence goes in a universalist direction, perhaps influencing the major wars of the period to become shorter (1849-1870). In another period the outcome might well have been the reverse, meaning the abandoning of universalist policies altogether (1963-1976). Consistency would, in particular, have the effect of reducing uncertainty among the major powers. Given that these powers have a fairly uniform understanding of the dimensions involved, consistency would reinforce a given message. Thus, at times some inconsistency might have been less important, notably the lack of correspondence of Kapitalpolitik policies with other elements in the 19th century. In the 20th century, however, Kapitalpolitik might have been more important. With such an understanding it becomes clear that all universalist periods are highly internally consistent, with one exception, 1963-1976. Also, on the whole, all the 20th century particularist periods are highly consistent. Of the latter, two ended in world wars, and one in a crisis that might well have resulted in the third one. Inconsistency could give rise to a demand for change, consistency being a more preferable condition. Thus, a given period could change into its opposite. But change would also have other roots and to these we now turn. 4. From Universalism to particularism, and vice-versa Although the universalist policies have largely been consistent and not resulted in major war, they were all abandoned. Obviously, the policies pursued were not satisfactory to all involved. This means that they were built on a foundation that was solid enough for a certain period of time, but not solid enough to handle particular changes. Also the conditions that brought about the universalist periods in the first place should be considered, as this might suggest the outer limits of the policies. Thus, there are two particular points of change that need to be scrutinized: the change from universalism to particularism and changes in the opposite direction. Such changes could be sought in three particular areas: 1. Changes among the majors: the composition of their relationships, relative capabilities, but also inconsistency in policy. 2. Changes involving the minors: their direct relations to the majors, degree of independence, etc. 3. Internal changes in the different actors, notably in the majors: revolutions, change of perspectives. Altogether, there are six shifts to consider, three in each direction. In all cases, the years of change have been identified and factors mentioned by historians as influential have been collected. Some typical variables are presented in Table IV. Although Table IV indicates dates for changes, such dates of course are but symbolic; changes are always the result of long-term trends. Some of the changes, consequently, are harder to locate exactly in time. However, dates are important for understanding charge; their symbolic value is highly educational. First, the transformation from universalism to particularism is comparatively non-violent; there are some wars recorded, but no sharp change is evident in the power relationships between the leading actors. The wars at the time were those of major powers solidifying their position by attacking minors (e.g. Prussia on Denmark, Japan on China, the United States on Spain), but such wars are hardly novel or directly related to the shifts. More interesting, 252 Table IV. Factors Affecting Change in Policy Pattern and more frequently emphasized by historians, are the internal changes within major powers. The revolutions in France, Austria and Germany are related to the breakdown of the existing order. In the first two cases, revolution brought back a Napoleon and brought down a Metter- nich, in the third case it overthrew the Weimar Republic and created the Third Reich. These changes were not ordinary domestic shifts of power, as the internal orders were integral parts of the entire international arrangement at the time. Consequently, these revolutions were as much challenges to predominant universalism as to the internal order. With Louis Philippe and the Weimar Republic removed, not only were symbols of the previous order replaced, but something more fundamental had changed; the role of these countries as majors were redefined. The shifts in 1848/1849 and 1932/1933 could both be seen this way. The third change away from universalism is more difficult to analyse. The shifts around the turn of the century resulting in the con- frontation patterns leading to World War I were more gradual. There is no particular revolution to point to. Instead factors such as the removal of Bismarck from power in Germany, the realignment among European powers, the decreasing number of territories available to territory-seeking European countries and the emergence of non-European major states seem important. However, the parallel between the changes in 1848/1849 and those of 1932/1933 might still permit a more general conclusion; the revolutionary changes were related to economic crisis, uneven development of industry, unemployment, and, thus, to protest and radicalism (’leftist’ as well as ’rightist’, and in both situations ’rightists’ coming out on the top). The regimes that were overthrown were closely identified with the previous ’world order’ either in personal capacity or in (close to) legal terms. This close association between the internal and international arrangement led to the downfall of both. Possibly, we can specify a chain of events that is potentially very destabilizing for a given international arrangement; economic mismanagement and reduced popular support for a regime whose role is highly significant for universalist policies will endanger not only these regimes, but, very likely, also upset the entire policy. In other words, a weakness of these universalist policies might have been their excessive reliance on the maintenance of a particular order in particular countries. The policies were, in a sense, not adaptive enough to handle the internal changes of leading and crucial states. Indeed, the policies of appeasement, pursued during the 1930s, rested on the assumption that adaptation was possible, and that, at a given moment, Germany’s ambitions could be satisfied, preserving most of the League arrangement. 253 The challenge to the entire Versailles con- struction was only understood at a very late moment. Such a policy of adaptation is, in other words, not likely to be successful if/ when the entire international arrangement is the matter of dispute. The only alternative might be a policy of ’pre-emptive’ adaptation to defuse tensions when they are still latent. However, to change an already existing arrangement before it has become an issue will mostly not have sufficient political support. Politics seem to require much more concrete signals of warnings. The changes in the mid-1890s followed a slightly different logic. There were no internal revolutions, but the interaction between inter-state relations and internal politics was still there. The removal of Bismarck suggested that Germany’s role in the world could be seen in a different light by Germany as well as by others, notably Russia. The rapid colonization meant that there were fewer distant territories to struggle for. Together these factors might have contributed to making Germany take a stronger, less compromising stand.1« Turning to the transformation from particularism to universalism, we find more violent change, and at that, among the majors themselves. Two of the shifts are multi- dimensional, and relate to two major wars: 1870/1871 and 1918/1919. These changes are, however, not ordinary major power defeats; the era investigated has seen a number of such defeats (e.g. Russia in the Crimean war or in the Russo-Japanese war). In addition they involves - considerable internal changes. New regimes and new constitutions were developed in France and Germany, respectively. The new orders created were not simply rearrangements of inter-state relations. Rather, the three universalist periods following a major war (including, for the sake of the argument, 1814, as well as 1871 and 1919) are parallel; they aimed not only at containing a given major power but also at reducing the perceived threat of certain types of internal policies. Thus, universalism became linked to particular regimes.. In post-Napoleonic France, as well as in the Weimar Republic, these new regimes became identified with the defeat. This seems, however, not to have been the case for the post-1871 Third Republic. As was the case with transformations away from universalism, there is one case which is less clear-cut. It is comparable to the 1895/ 1896 shift but the direction is the opposite one: 1962/1963. There can be no doubt that the policy of detente, introduced in the immediate aftermath of the 1962 nuclear confrontation between the United States and the Soviet Union, reflected a fear of a nuclear war between the two. Also, at this time, increased attention was given to Third World problems (the United States becoming in- creasingly involved in the Vietnam war, the Soviet Union extending support to liberation movements throughout the Third World). The process of decolonization created a new area for the leading majors, the year 1960 and the Congo crisis being symbolic. Thus, the universalism introduced and pursued until the end of the 1970s seems to have had a double origin: fear of nuclear war and focus on Third World activities. This means that the policy of detente had a different origin than the other universalist policies encountered in this analysis; it was not a matter of victors setting up a system to be preserved against others, but rather of the competitors trying to preserve themselves against a possible catastrophe. Nuclear weapons, in other words, changed the dynamics of relations between the major powers. In one sense, this was a profound change; it meant that anticipation of devastation was brought into the calculations before devastation actually took place. In another sense, it was less profound; the consensus among the majors was less developed than was the case in earlier universalist periods. An argument could still be made in favor of confrontation, brinkman- ship, in order to continue the battle between the majors. Unlike the other situations, there was no reordering of priorities; rather a policy of caution succeeded a policy of boldness. In this vein, the shift in 1962/1963 is comparable to the one of 1895/1896: no change in basic 254 goals or basic perception of incompatibility, but a change in the means to be used. Wilhelm II grasped for vigor, Kennedy/Khrushchev for caution; Wilhelm was in a hurry to arrive at final victory, Kennedy/Khrushchev settled down to wait for the ultimate collapse of the other, either from internal contradictions or from changes in global relationships. In 1895/1896 the lack of ’empty’ territory meant that the conflict had to be pursued in more vital (to the majors) areas, in 1962/ 1963 the ’opening up’ of new territory through decolonization meant that the same conflict could be pursued in less vital areas. Either way, the armament build-up received new stimuli. This, in other words, suggests a possible link between ’central’ and ’peripheral’ areas, the one replacing the other as a forum for continued confrontation between major powers having defined themselves in incompatibility with one another. In general terms, such incompatibilities can either end in major wars (as indeed has been the outcome for two periods of particularism, as shown above) or internal revolutions (as indeed has been the outcome for two periods of universalism), or in a continous shift between ’arenas’ of competition, as long as such arenas exist (as happened in the two remaining trans- formations). In the latter case, this means that ’peripheral’ areas are ’outlets’ for major powers, striving to gain a leverage on the other, but hoping to manage this without a direct onslaught. A final note: 1976 is here, as a matter of convenience and availability of data, regarded as the ending of one universalist period. In retrospect, it appears correct to suggest that detente gradually thinned out beginning at approximately this time, culminating with the Soviet invasion of Afghanistan in 1979 and the election of Ronald Reagan in 1980. Seen in this light, it is interesting to relate some of our previous findings to this development. Neither in terms of Idealpolitik nor Kapitalpolitik are there any important changes among or within the major powers. In Realpolitik terms there are some changes: a new actor entering more actively, China, during these years of transition forming new relations with the West. Also, there is a set of new challenges emerging from the Third World: the oil crisis and rising Islamic fundamentalism, the latter resulting in confrontation with both superpowers (in Iran and Afghanistan, respectively). A criterion for success for detente might have been the ability of the United States and the Soviet Union to win Third World support, but these developments were set-backs, for both. Thus, there is a parallel between this transition and the one in 1895/1896. Failure in promoting success in distant areas (from the point of view of the major powers) tends to result in increasing tension in the central arena. To this, then, should be added the obvious inconsistencies in the policies of detente, pointed to in the previous section, primarily the failure to control the arms race. 5. Limits of major power universalism Major powers have continuously tried to work out constructive relations among themselves. Such attempts have, in some periods, lasted for a considerable period of time. The record suggests that the pursuit of such universalist policies is associated with fewer wars and confrontations in general and among the major powers in particular. Such policies have served at the same time to maintain the indepcndence of the majors and reduce the dangers of war among them. Invariably, however, they have been superseded by periods of particularism, when one or several of the majors have embarked on policies advancing the particular interest, rather than the joint interest of all. Such periods are associated with higher levels of war and confrontations among the majors. In several instances they have resulted in the dismemberment or defeat of one or several of the majors. Invariably, such periods have been followed by universalist policies. Looking at the four concerted attempts of universalism in the 1816-1976 period, they display some discernable common traits. First, they have been arrangements worked out among major powers, normally the victors in a previous war: the Concert of Europe, 255 Bismarck’s order and the League of Nations all followed immediately on major wars. Thus, they represented attempts by the victors to handle their victory, to avoid the reemergence of threat from the losers. The detente period differs, but in some respect it could be seen as a belated attempt among the victors to agree on a set of relations, in particular for Europe. More directly, however, it attempted to stabilize the relations between the majors themselves in the face of a mutual nuclear threat. The three first examples of universalist policies, consequently, built on a much more developed common interest than did the period of detente. In the former situations, the victors had a clear actor to worry about, in the latter case, the fear came primarily from the other party or from the general threat of nuclear war. There was, consequently, less of an incentive to solve conflict in the latter case. The focus was more on avoiding escalation than on conflict settlement. Second, all these arrangements have been conservative as they have tried to stabilize the status quo: maintaining the major powers as majors, keeping the existing power relationships among them and upholding the distance to non- majors. In the face of challenges, the policy has been one of adaptation, trying to make the challenges fit within the existing framework, rather than substantially alter the framework itself. The duration of some of the periods of universalism indicates that this sometimes has been possible: confrontations among majors have been resolved without escalation to war. However, the conservative nature obviously has some short-comings, as there are many challenges which are less easily accommodated. Thirdly, the consistency across several dimensions of policy have been marked for most of the periods, except most notably for the detente period. This internal consistency might well have contributed to reducing uncertainty and thus to make actions and reactions more predictable. Such more predictable relations, it could be argued, would reduce the emergence of conflict in the first place. An indication of this is that the number of wars and confrontations with major powers involved per year is much lower for the periods of consistent universalism than for the period of detente.l Fourthly, all universalist periods witnessed a shift in focus away from direct major-major confrontations in central areas to a preoccupa- tion with major-minor relations. Most markedly this is true for the Concert of Europe, Bismarckian and detente periods. This diversion of attention could deflect some of the tension in the central areas and point to common interests in other areas. Inevitably, however, it means that the universalist policies become dependent on the degree of success in that field, resulting in interventionism. For both the Bismarckian and detente period, frustra- tions in these respects seem to have made the powers turn to the central area again. If that is where the origin of conflict is, this can be seen as logic within this framework. In both these cases it resulted in an intensification of arms build-ups and increasingly unpredictive major power relations. Fifth, the universalist policies have not simply been an arrangement built among states. There has also been a significant internal component to them. In the cases where victors worked out an order for the post-war period, new regimes have been installed in the defeated countries. These regimes have been the ultimate guarantors of the new order, meaning that the orders become vulnerable to the efficacy of these regimes. Internal .change in such countries becomes directly relevant to international relations.. Thus, French reconstruction in 1815 and the German Weimar Republic had to carry a double burden of confirming the defeat and reconstructing their countries. In the end neither succeeded. Most notable, however, is the fact that the Third Republic was not, in the same way, identified with the war defeat. In somewhat the same way, the new German governments after 1949 have been absolved of the misdeeds of their predecessors.l2 Major power universalism has been highly constrained. Most markedly this appears true for the most recent attempt, the period of 256 detente. It could not build on the power of united victors, it failed to be consistent across significant dimensions and ultimately internal inconsistencies brought it down. The question, then, arises if there is an alternative to such universalist policies. This analysis suggest some principles for an alternative form of universalism, making it possible to break out of some of the historically observed constraints: - a greater involvement of non-major powers in questions of world peace and security, - a greater openness, on the part of the major powers, to change in non-major countries and in relations among states, - a greater consistency in major power relations, particularly in the fields of disengagement, disarmament and dis- sensus, - a greater restraint on permissible behavior of major powers in Third World conflicts, - a greater domestic accountability for the foreign policies of major powers, - and breaking out of the framework: - a greater reliance on non-governmental organizations. These principles would serve to make universalism truly universal, not simply the universalism of major powers. NOTES 1. Universalism and particularism as defined by Parsons focuses on norms rather than actions. Still the concepts are useful as they point to the general rather than the specific as the center of attention. (See Parsons & Shils 1951, p. 82). 2. Most definitions of world order are multi- dimensional. Falk & Mendlovitz find world order to be the answer to questions of worldwide economic welfare, social justice, ecological stability as well as to reduction of international violence. (See Falk & Mendlovitz 1973, p. 6.) A broad and most stimulating contribution is Falk (1975). Hoffman (1980, p. 188) also gives a very broad definition of the concept of world order, as a state in which violence and economic disruptions have been ’tamed’, ’moderation’ has emerged, economies progress and collective institutions act. The concept of Common Security, introduced in the so-called Palme Commission, involved a conception similar to the one of Hoffmann. (See Common Security, 1982.) 3. Thus we attempt to describe dominant traits in the major power relations during these periods. A most interesting contribution in the same direction is Rosecrance (1963). Recently, the interest in long waves has resulted in similar generalizations for particular periods, mostly focusing economic variables. A contribution pertinent to the present discussion is V&auml;yrynen (1983). 4. Such wars have come at earliest in the sixth year of particularist policy: the Krimean War in 1854, the Russo-Japanese War in 1938 (Changkufeng War) and the Korean War in 1950, all within this range, the Russo-Japanese war of 1904 being somewhat later. This list, furthermore, suggests that such first major-major wars occur in areas fairly distant from the main major power area of contention (at all these times being Europe). For data, see Small & Singer (1982). 5. This distinction, built on the basic arguments in different schools of thinking, is elaborated in Wallensteen (1981). 6. The lack of disengagement in German-French relations following the war of 1871 is often pointed to by historians. The annexation of Alsace-Lorraine became a humiliating experience for the French, although the military value of the area to either party could be disputed. Thus, no buffers were created between the two, making the relations tense. A result of this was the War Scare of 1875. See Kennan (1979, pp. 11-23). For a general discussion, see Patem (1983). 7. For an overview of the development of arms expenditure for these periods, see Nincic (1982). For an overview of the nuclear arsenals, drawn from several sources, see Botnen (1982) and SIPRI (1983). The total nuclear arsenals are estimated at 1000 in 1952, 23,500 in 1960, 35,500 in 1970 and 48,800 in 1975. 9. Reporting to the US Congress on his visit to Moscow in 1972 Nixon summarized this policy as one of ’creating a momentum of achievement in which progress in one area could contribute to progress in others’, and ’when the two largest economies in the world start trading with each other on a much larger scale, living standards in both nations will rise, and the stake which both have in peace will increase’. Cooperation in space exploration was also part of this, resulting in a joint orbital mission in 1975. See ’Address by President Nixon to a Joint Session of the Congress’, June 1, 1972 in Stebbins & Adams (1976, pp. 80-81). The resulting space mission was in 1975 hailed by Le Canard Enchain&eacute;: Vive La Coexistence Espacifique! 10. Such links form some of the conclusions in Choucri & North (1975, ch. 16). On the significance of Bismarck’s departure, see Kennan, op.cit. 257 11. The average annual major power involvement in war or confrontation is, for 1816-1848 1.0, for 1871-1895 0.9, for 1919-1932 1.7 and for 1963-1976 2.2. The latter figure actually puts the detente period parallel to some of the particularist periods, notably the 1896-1918 period with 2.3 and 1933- 1944 with 2.2. 12. The significance of the German question is given an extensive and interesting treatment in DePorte (1979). REFERENCES Botnen, Ingvar, ed. 1983. Fakta om Krig og Fred. Oslo: Pax. Choucri, Nazli & Robert C. North 1975. Nations in Conflict. National Growth and International Violence. Cambridge, Mass.: MIT. Common Security. A Programme for Disarmament 1982. Report of the Independent Commission on Disarmament and Security. London: Pan. DePorte, A.W. 1979. Europe between the Superpowers. New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press. Falk, Richard and Saul Mendlovitz 1973. Regional Politics and World Order. San Francisco: Freeman. Falk, Richard 1975. A Study of Future Worlds, New York: Free Press. Hoffman, Stanley 1980. Primacy or World Order. American Foreign Policy since the Cold War. New York: McGraw Hill. Kennan, George 1979. The Decline of Bismarck’s European Order. Princeton: Princeton University Press. Kindleberger, Charles P. 1978. Economic Response. Comparative Studies in Trade, Finance and Growth. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Kindleberger, Charles P. 1964. &Egrave;conomic Growth in France and Britain, 1851-1950. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Nincic, Miroslav 1982. The Arms Race. New York: Praeger. Parsons, Talcott & Edward A. Shils, eds. 1951. Towards a General Theory of Action. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press. Patem, Michael 1983. ’The Buffer System in International Relations’, Journal of Conflict Resolution, vol. 27, no. 1, pp. 3-26. Rosecrance, Richard N. 1963. Action and Reaction in World Politics. Boston: Little, Brown. SIPRI 1983. World Armaments and Disarmament. London: Taylor and Francis. Small, Melvin & J. David Singer 1982. Resort to Arms. Beverly Hills: Sage. Stebbins, R.P. and E.P. Adams, eds. 1976. American Foreign Relations 1972. A Documentary Record. New York: New York University Press. V&auml;yrynen, Raimo 1983. ’Economic Cycles, Power Transi- tions, Political Management and Wars between Major Powers’, International Studies Quarterly, vol. 27, no. 4, pp. 389-418. Wallensteen, Peter 1981. ’Incompatibility, Confrontation and War. Four Models and Three Historical Systems, 1816-1976’, Journal of Peace Research, vol. 18, no. 1, pp. 57-90. 
work_iz34pqgtkbcxng7fb3rzqhk5fy	----	have emotional lives” (137), that such a recognition “automatically or necessarily con- stitutes an ethics of cohabitation” (143) given questions of “resource competition” in “a planet of limit space” (137–38). Materialist approaches to affect studies are evident, as well, in contributions by Julian Yates and David Landreth. Yates demonstrates how forms of personhood are linked to material-semiotic tropes like otium, “a wakeful but disassociated state” during which one is “a vegetal being allied to pure growth” (73). Landreth does not address the materialist ontology of affect, but instead asks how affective stances toward the past allow things that matter to acquire substance and become materialized or, contrarily, how affects, like envy, are seen to “unmake” the matter of history. Affect Theory and Early Modern Texts successfully “use[s] affect as a prism through which to read early modern cultural, economic, and political phenomena” (5). In doing so, it contributes substantially to scholarly efforts to historicize affect and emotion, and to ongoing deliberations on the relationship between thinking and feeling. Ronda Arab, Simon Fraser University doi:10.1017/rqx.2018.94 Schriftsinn und Epochalität: Zur historischen Prägnanz allegorischer und symbol- ischer Sinnstiftung. Bernhard Huss and David Nelting, eds. Germanisch-Romanische Monatsschrift: Beihefte 81. Heidelberg: Universitätsverlag Winter, 2017. 412 pp. €58. Schriftsinn und Epochalität is a volume consisting of fourteen essays that are the results of a conference held at the Universität zu Köln during three days in September 2014. The symposium was organized in honor of Gerhard Regn, a scholar who has devoted a good part of his career to Petrarch. It is therefore not surprising that Petrarch is one of the few authors who feature in two of the contributions to this festschrift—namely, in Bernhard Huss’s essay on the Triumphi and in the opening chapter, a quasi-monograph by Andreas Kablitz, who dedicates a substantial portion of his study on the “Die dop- pelte Ontologisierung der Allegorie in der westlichen Kultur” (Double ontologization of allegory in Western culture) to sonnet 263 of the Rerum Vulgarium Fragmenta. The overlap is all the more noteworthy in a book that covers a wide range of materials, span- ning from medieval allegorical exegesis of liturgy to twentieth-century literature. What gives coherence to the volume is its focus on the fascinating question of the “spiritual sense of the word,” in line with the opening quotation from Friedrich Ohly’s Sensus Spiritualis. Arguably the most profound hermeneutical problem among those elabo- rated by medieval thought, this question is crucial for the concepts of allegory and sym- bol, which in their turn have always proven to be extremely difficult to define. As the editors explain in their introduction, the purpose of this book consists in demonstrating RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY370 VOLUME LXXII, NO. 1 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core the historical significance of these two concepts, meaning that clarifying them in context allows one not only to better understand ideas about Sinn developed in a given era, but also to shed light on the specificity of the epoch itself. The choice of the topics mirrors this task by focusing on transitional figures (e.g., Petrarch between Augustine and humanism), on shifting moments in literary genres (e.g., allegory in Tasso’s Gerusalemme liberata and in Marino’s Adone), and also on more nuanced definitions of a given epoch (in this last case I would single out Florian Mehltretter’s essay on the hidden sources of the conception of symbol in the French Enlightenment). It is a path of research that German scholarship has been con- stantly following in the last decades, reflecting often upon the notion of “epistemolog- ical rupture” conceived by Gaston Bachelard and then adopted by Michel Foucault, whose name not by chance appears in Franz Penzenstaldler’s essay on the new kind of interest in classical mythology that arose in the French Renaissance, and in Klaus Hempfer’s contribution on allegorical readings of the epic in sixteenth-century Italy. Referring already in the title to the consequences for the theory of interpretation of the allegoresis, Hempfer’s study highlights another important goal of the book—namely, to establish a dialogue between the historical research on the specific problem of alle- gory/allegoresis and the theoretical reflection upon the transhistorical categories that scholars use in their research. This is probably the most valuable feature of the book, the one that makes it possible to read it as a collection of separate essays each dedicated to an independent topic not even limited to the Renaissance (the last study, for example, is about Elio Vittorini’s Conversazione in Sicilia), and also as a collective attempt to define through a historical approach categories that have challenged theorists from the Middle Ages up to modern and postmodern philosophy. The topics (and also the length) of the essays being extremely diverse, the fact that the volume lacks a comprehensive bibliography is certainly justifiable. However, an index would have been helpful in unifying the themes of the collection, and, more importantly, a bibliography at the end of each article would have made the search for references easier. That lacuna notwithstanding, this is a valuable book whose essays both individually contribute to their fields and collectively provide a model for historically and theoretically grounded research. Corrado Confalonieri, Harvard University doi:10.1017/rqx.2018.95 Women, Rhetoric, and Drama in Early Modern Italy. Alexandra Coller. London: Routledge, 2017. xii + 282 pp. $149.95. Within the context of early modern European theater Italy presents an exceptional number of female patrons, dramatists, and performers—including professional actresses REVIEWS 371 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core 
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work_jjjp7vixsrawfjwewfvy5tnlvi	----	untitled © Swansea University 2010 DOI 10.1179/026399010X12645114972251 romance studies, Vol. 28 No. 2, April, 2010, 106–17 Léopold Sédar Senghor’s Translations and the Trajectory of a World Writer Kathleen Shields National University of Ireland, Maynooth, Ireland Senghor’s seldom-studied translations (grouped with his juvenilia and published in Œuvre poétique in 1964) illustrate a process of identity forma- tion whereby he can variously represent France, Senegal, Africa, and poetry, ultimately coming to occupy a position as world writer. My analysis of these texts takes into account recent articles on translation and African writers: what did Senghor translate, how did he translate, why did he translate, and why did he stop translating? Strategies of universalizing, flattening, and mystification reveal a process of acculturation rather than cultural cross- fertilization. Central to my argument is the contrast between Senghor’s concept of métissage and the more current use of the term as Antoine Berman applies it to translation. One optimistic narrative is that as decolo- nization takes place, more and more translation, increased mutual cultural understanding, and hybridization also occur. Senghor’s translations are part of another process, where translation from African languages is abandoned in favour of a world language and its tributaries. They also illustrate features common to other world writers. Once completed, there is no further need for translation to take place. keywords Léopold Sédar Senghor, translation, métissage, acculturation, world literature, Antoine Berman How can one man, Léopold Sédar Senghor, embody two such contradictory values as francophonie, or French as a universal language, and négritude, or writing as a Black African? The contradiction is evident in his essay about the French language published in Esprit in 1962. I propose in this article to explore the part that transla- tion plays in allowing for négritude and francophonie to coexist in Senghor’s mind. Translation is one place that allows for the passage from Black African to champion of a certain view of the French language. Senghor’s translations sample and anthologize a variety of African languages and genres, transforming them into a French that, while not exactly homogenous, appeals to universal values. My argument is that translation plays an important part in the building of Senghor’s reputation as world writer. 107LÉOPOLD SÉDAR SENGHOR’S TRANSLATIONS The universal value of French language and culture corresponds to the flattening and universalizing of the African languages and cultures from which he draws the translated texts. The translations are a necessary step on his path to the status of world writer and can be understood with reference to his biography, in particular to Senghor’s understanding of métissage. In many optimistic accounts in translation studies (for example, in the way that Antoine Berman enlists the term métissage), it is assumed that translation serves the process of decolonization and intercultural exchange. Senghor’s translations are an interesting counter-example to this view. Indeed, at a specific phase in his career their function was to redraw literary world maps in such a way as to suit the trajectory of a world author. Francophonie or négritude? In an essay published in the Parisian journal Esprit in 1962, Senghor proclaims a metropolitan and gallocentric view of the French language. Here the Senegalese writer is more French than the French themselves, echoing Antoine Rivarol’s eighteenth-century essay on the French language. Senghor appeals to such Enlighten- ment concepts as rayonnement when he states that French is the ‘Soleil qui brille hors de l’Hexagone’ and that ‘son rayonnement ne fait que s’étendre, même au Mali, même en Guinée’ (Senghor, 1962: 844, 837). According to Senghor, French not only radiates its clarity and purity from the centre, but it is also better than African languages, due to its abstract vocabulary and subordinating syntax. Explaining why French is attractive to African élites, he praises what he sees as the inherently superior qualities of the language, particularly its humanism and its universality: ‘À la syntaxe de juxtaposition des langues négro-africaines, s’oppose la syntaxe de subordination du français; à la syntaxe du concret vécu, celle de l’abstrait pensé: pour tout dire, la syntaxe de la raison à celle de l’émotion’ (Senghor, 1962: 840). Others have taken issue with the sharp dichotomy laid out here and elsewhere in Senghor’s writings: French equals reason; African languages equal emotion (Adotevi, 1988: 45). For the moment, I wish to focus on Senghor as the champion of a certain idea of French — rational, clear, pure, Greco-Roman. He was an important con- tributor to resilient neo-colonial and universalist ideas about the French language, ideas that are still enshrined in much French language legislation and that have been criticized outside the metropolitan centre. Moreover, he became increasingly monolingual throughout his career, writing and using only French and drawing on its classical tributaries, particularly ancient Greek. Europeans, accustomed to the idea of a congruence between national literature, language, and nation-state, are perhaps puzzled and even shocked that Senghor as writer and president of Senegal can extol French in this way. He might be expected to write in or to translate from a Senegalese language or languages, at least some of the time. Introducing Senghor’s Anthologie de la nouvelle poésie nègre et malgache de langue française in 1948, Sartre’s preface ‘L’Orphée noir’ reflects this European perspective on language and identity: ‘ce qui risque de freiner dangereusement l’effort des noirs pour rejeter notre tutelle, c’est que les annonciateurs de la négritude sont contraints de rédiger en français leur évangile’ (Senghor, 1985: xviii). 108 KATHLEEN SHIELDS At the time of his essay in Esprit, Senghor is at an established phase of his career and an establishment figure, the man who would be elected to the Académie Française in 1983. However, behind the article there is a more complex reality. As one commentator remarks, we often have the feeling, when reading about his life, that ‘Senghor appartient à cette catégorie d’hommes à qui le cliché colle à la peau [. . .] et dont l’histoire ressemble à un conte édifiant’ (Olivieri, 1998: 103). Senghor himself played a part in creating this moral tale, but the historical moments of the multiple and contradictory positions have to be borne in mind when approaching his work. The concept of négritude has never really recovered from the criticism levelled at Senghor by other African writers, such as Cheikh Anta Diop, Marcien Towa, and Stanislas Spéro Adotevi, during and after the Pan-African festival in Algiers in 1969. Adotevi argues that by 1969 the concept had well outlived its moment of political usefulness. More specifically, he singles out the two contradictory sides of Senghor’s thought. One is the useful side of négritude, the ‘prise de conscience politique’ necessary in the 1930s in a period of high colonialism in France (Adotevi, 1998: 32). The other is the collection of essentialist ideas about the African mind and African spirituality and intuition that leave out large tracts of history and even true shared experience (Adotevi, 1998: 59, 61, 45). Translation is one of the mechanisms by which Senghor can pass from an empowering ‘prise de conscience’ to the reverse side of outdated attitudes toward race and language. The translations can shed light on a particular point where several facets of the life connect — the representative of Senegal, the representative of Africa, the representative of French as a world language. Conversely, his biography (particularly Senghor’s own understanding of métissage) can help us understand the role of translation in career building.1 What Senghor chose to remember and make public was influenced by the pressures of success and achievement, as well as by the desire to present himself as the perfect example of a man both black and French who blended the best of both into a single personality. Senghor’s vocal and lifelong commitment to a certain vision of the French language can explain why so little, if any, attention has been paid to the small body of transla- tions from African languages included at the back of Œuvre poétique in 1964. As non-translating writer, he has been contrasted with his compatriot Sembene Ousmane, who writes in French, makes films in Wolof, and also translates into this language (Jones, 1987: 4). Jacques Chevrier groups Senghor among ‘les incondition- nels’, or those who are unqualified in their belief in the French language, while others such as Sembene Ousmane or Birago Diop are described as ‘les réticents’, those who have doubts and misgivings about using French (Chevrier, cited in Bandia, 2006: 352). For this reason Senghor’s own translations are interesting, insofar as they are one point where the writer in French meets the cultures of his birth, and because they play a part in the very creation of Senghor as Francophone world writer. The translations are a point of contact between facets kept apart elsewhere in Senghor’s life and work. These facets are allowed to coexist in the translations, juxtaposing négritude and francophonie without necessarily bridging them, blending them, or reconciling them. Translation is often cited as the way in which literatures and cultures are brought into contact. However, it can also be the case that once 109LÉOPOLD SÉDAR SENGHOR’S TRANSLATIONS translations are done they can be used in order to keep literatures apart, and in order to draw literary world maps in a certain way. This would appear to be true of Senghor’s translations. It is tempting to use translation as part of the trope of reconciliation of contradictions. However, the interaction between translation and biography can show a contradiction being maintained without really being reconciled. The translations The translations from Senegalese and other languages are a small and rather hidden part of Senghor’s work, grouped at the back of his complete poems and included at the same time as poèmes perdus, a selection of poems which, according to the author, were written in his youth and kept by his wife because she thought they were worth republishing (Senghor, 1990: 5). They correspond broadly to the term ‘authorized translations’ as Moradewun Adejunmobi uses it. With authorized translations there is some kind of original text that precedes the translations that are presented. At the same time ‘the fact of translation hardly impacts on language use within the European language version and functions rather as a strategy for ethnic identification of the European-language text [...] Despite their original versions, these texts may be regarded as also belonging to the genus of African writing in European languages’ (1998: 165–66, 170). It is quite possible that they are also compositional or imaginary translations, as Senghor covers the traces of their origins. The translations in question are five transcribed oral texts of varying length and genre translated from Bantu, Bambara, Pulaar, and Khassonke. Where did the texts come from? There is no straightforward answer to the question of what original texts Senghor translates since there are two things at issue, namely the matter of what constitutes a text and the matter of orality. In the European context translating has meant putting a written text into another language in written form (often transferring texts from languages used by largely monolingual groups). It has been observed that this is not the case in the African context. For example, Bassay Antia, commenting on book translation in Nigeria, states that there has always been a concept of inter- preting (or, of oral translation) but that when it comes to printed texts readers have very little awareness of whether they have been translated or not. In other words, there is a non-perception of translation in the minds of the reading public (Antia, 1999). This distinction is helpful in approaching Senghor’s translated texts. As African writer he does not specify the mode of transmission of these oral texts or whether one or multiple source texts are being used. He adopts different positions in relation to his source texts, even within this small body of translations. The paratexts only describe two of the poems as being translated (‘traduits’) while the other three are simply presented as songs, ‘chant bantou’, ‘chant bambara du Mali’, and ‘chant de guerre bambara’. As Paul Bandia says, it is often the case that with African transla- tions ‘the translation is not based on any particular concrete source-language text, but rather it is inspired by the general folklore or oral tradition’ (2006: 355). The original can be written from a metatext of culture. 110 KATHLEEN SHIELDS To the European reader the vagueness about the process of translation, whether in regard to sources, intermediary texts, or collaboration, appears to be deliberate mystification. Mystery about sources also suits the promotion from national author to world writer and is not an unusual feature of world writers in their use of transla- tions (it occurs, for example, in Nobel prize winners like W.B. Yeats and Seamus Heaney). Given that Senghor attended a French-language Catholic boarding school from a very young age, a large part of his cultural formation was works by canonical French authors. As he says, his first authors were Hugo, Baudelaire, Rimbaud, Mallarmé, Valéry, Claudel, and Saint-John Perse (1990: 370). He also describes how in his village before the age of ten he listened to oral poetry recited by women whom he does not name but calls his three Graces (‘les poétesses populaires de mes villages d’enfance’). Bernard Mouralis mentions that Senghor collaborated with one of these village women poets named Marône; Senghor indeed mentions her in the afterword to Éthiopiques (Mouralis, 2001: 1785). However, he himself keeps his sources mysterious and anonymous in his translations. This brings me to the second question of how Senghor translates, or, more precisely, of the effect of his translations on the French-speaking reader. The first impression is of a flattening of form and tone, regardless of which language or genre the texts are from. For example, the love song ‘L’oiseau d’amour’ begins: Mais laisse-moi, ô Dyambéré! Toi qui portes l’écharpe aux franges longues, Laisse-moi chanter les oiseaux. Les oiseaux qui écoutèrent la Princesse en allée Et reçurent ses confidences dernières. (1990: 410) Compare this with the similar syntax and simplicity of tone in the war song ‘Dongo le Vautour’: Vous, Soldats, qui jamais n’avez eu peur, Écoutez le chant du Vautour, Le chant immortel. Je chante Mansou, le Vautour de gloire. (1990: 410) Here, as in all five translations, Senghor combines, on the one hand, features of oral language (refrains, interjections, questions, and direct address or allocution) with, on the other hand, a neutral to formal, even highly literary, register. The ‘Ballade Khassonkée de Dioudi’ opens with a direct address to the young girls in the audience: ‘Jeunes filles, dont le regard sait si bien faire battre le Cœur des hommes les plus froids, vous qui pouvez, d’un coup d’œil, faire plus de mal que le fusil [. . .]’. The register soon switches to the literary vocabulary of the chanson de geste: ‘Bakary était un grand roi, qui commandait à tout le Bakounou. Son nom était vénéré par les habitants de cent villages et faisait l’effroi de ses ennemis, parce qu’il avait grand nombre de vaillants guerriers dont la bravoure était irrésistible’ [my italics] (1990: 420). The two long narrative texts clearly show signs of being transposed from oral forms: the ‘Ballade Khassonkée de Dioudi’, is a tale of a young princess, Dioudi, who dies for love, and it often breaks off with direct address to the different sections of an imaginary audience, whether to all present in the form of proverb (‘Mais, 111LÉOPOLD SÉDAR SENGHOR’S TRANSLATIONS hélas! hélas! le bonheur n’a qu’un jour, le malheur dure toute la vie’ (1990: 422)) or finally to the young men at the close: ‘Guerriers qui faites trembler l’ennemi [. . .] écoutez l’histoire de Séga, qui est mort d’amour’ (1990: 426). The other narrative, a praise poem and battle song about a hero called Samba, repeats the same refrain throughout: ‘Il est parti Samba!’. An interesting example of the combining of oral with highly literary features is the translation ‘Chant du Feu’. In one of his essays Senghor states that he translated this poem himself (1990: 395) but without saying whether he got help from anyone else. Feu que les hommes regardent dans la nuit, dans la nuit profonde, Feu qui brûles et ne chauffes pas, qui brilles et ne brûles pas, Feu qui voles sans corps, sans cœur, qui ne connais ni case ni foyer, Feu transparent des palmes, un homme sans peur t’invoque. Feu des sorciers, ton père est où? Ta mère est où? Qui t’a nourri? Tu es ton père, tu es ta mère, tu passes et ne laisses traces. Le bois sec ne t’engendre, tu n’as pas les cendres pour filles, tu meurs et ne meurs pas. (1990: 409) This far the text shows clear signs of connection to a tradition of riddles, kennings, and paradoxes (‘tu meurs et ne meurs pas’, ‘tu es ton père, tu es ta mère’). The reg- ister is neutral, as it is in the very similar ‘Dongo le Vautour’. However, in places it shifts from a neutral to a Latinate and literary French, inventing new words from Latin in the manner of French Renaissance poetry: Feu des sorciers, Esprit des eaux intérieures, Esprit des airs supérieurs, Fulgore qui brilles, luciole qui illumines le marais [my italics]. (1990: 409) A luciole is a firefly, but what is a fulgore — perhaps a sort of lightening spirit? It seems that Senghor is not only writing from an African ‘metatext of culture’ but also appealing to a European, specifically French, classical, and written ‘metatext of culture’. This is particularly the case in the narrative ‘Ballade Toucoulore de Samba-Foul’ (translated from the Peul). Common motifs of oral literature stand out, such as the jealous uncle who deprives the heir to the throne of his rightful succession, and the lost sandal as a sign that Samba is the true heir. Again a neutral register is used, but, for the French-speaking reader, literary and Latinate vocabulary also brings the story close to classical myths (the story of Jason, for example). After his uncle seizes power Samba is banished and goes to an ally: Samba est arrivé chez le Tounka de Ouandé, dans le Fouta Damga. Il se fait reconnaître et il est festoyé. Mais son oncle est puissant et le Tounka est faible, de sorte qu’il ne peut recevoir aucun secours d’hommes pour faire la guerre. Il confie au Tounka et ses sœurs, qu’il a sauvées de l’animadversion de son oncle [my italics]. (1990: 412–13) Animadversion is a startlingly literary and Latinate word to use for blame. While festoyé, used transitively as it is here, to mean ‘to celebrate somebody with a feast’, is an archaism that can be linked to other references to French chansons de geste in the poem, as well as to the French medieval world. For example Samba is described as the ‘suzerain légitime’, in an explicit reference to the feudal system, rather than simply as ‘seigneur légitime’ (1990: 418). 112 KATHLEEN SHIELDS Yvan Leclerc comments that the oral-written distinction is a European fixation that melts away as soon as you start to look at Senghor’s poetry (1987: 165). It is true that the translations, like the rest of the poetry, combine oral with highly literary elements to create speckled texts. However, oral features used in this way, once cut off from their context, become literary devices. As Eileen Julien says, ‘oral artistic forms are and have always been supple and absolutely contemporaneous’. Moreover, the oral text is created at its moment of performance, ‘in the moment of its enunciation and reception, the moment when an audience invests the narrative fabric with meaning’ (2003: 123). Because these oral features are framed in literary artefacts, taking them out of their context is part of the process of exhibiting them. Both the combining of oral and written elements, across all of the translations, along with the other translation strategies present, show very clearly a process where Senghor universalizes two different cultures. By education and background Senghor was well placed to see the similarities between different literatures and to stress these over the differences. The translations flatten the diversity of different literatures, whether in Bantu or Bambara, in order to create a homogenous African literature, while France, specifically in its literary Latinity, represents European and even universal values. Following his trajectory from exiled student of classics in Paris, to black poet influenced by surrealism, to world author and torchbearer of a certain view of French as a world language, one becomes aware that it is the interstices in Senghor’s career that are fascinating. This is as true of his attitude to language as it is of the political sides of his career. His first writings included learned descriptive articles on Sene- galese languages (Westley, 2002: 91), yet in later life he stated that he had forgotten his first language and that it had been displaced by French and classical Greek. In 1937, as teacher of classics to French children in Tours, he returned to Dakar and questioned whether it was appropriate for educated West Africans to try to assimilate to French culture, suggesting that their literature should be written in African languages (Vaillant, 2002: 18). Yet he himself did not choose this path. A clear contrast can be made between the five translations just discussed and the poetry that is not translation. Here Senghor uses juxtaposition rather than complete assimilation to metropolitan French norms. His best-known poems of exile and poems imitating musical forms (such as ‘Joal’ and ‘Que m’accompagnent kôras et balafong’) are good examples of texts that gesture toward an African other in an unsettling way. The latter poem has as its epigraph a translation with the original in parallel. In fact, here Senghor briefly adopts the role of translator as mediator, rather than exhibitor (1990: 28). QUE M’ACCOMPAGNENT KORAS ET BALAFONG (guimm pour trois kôras et un balafong) À RENE MARAN Eléyâi bisimlâi! Mângi dêti woy Biram Dégén-ô! ndendâ’k tamâ’k sabar-ê! Eléâye bisimlâye! De nouveau je chante le Noble. O Biram Déguen! Que m’accompagnent ndeundeus, tamas et sabers! POÈME WOLOF 113LÉOPOLD SÉDAR SENGHOR’S TRANSLATIONS ‘Joal’, named after the poet’s birthplace, is perhaps the culminating text of exile and of being in neither one culture nor another (1990: 15–16). Different musical forms and traditions are contrasted structurally in the carefully punctuated text, so that they resonate in the memory of the narrator for whom the music that most evokes his condition is the orphan jazz of black Americans: Je me rappelle les voix païennes rythmant le Tantum Ergo Et les processions et les palmes et les arcs de triomphe. Je me rappelle la danse des filles nubiles Les chœurs de lutte — oh! la danse finale des jeunes hommes, buste Penché élancé, et le pur cri d’amour des femmes — Kor Siga! Je me rappelle, je me rappelle . . . Ma tête rythmant Quelle marche lasse le long des jours d’Europe où parfois Apparaît un jazz orphelin qui sanglote sanglote sanglote. (1990: 14) In the poetry outside the translations, there are areas that remain out of bounds and opaque to the European reader. The use of proper nouns to refer to Senegal, Africa, and childhood has the effect of withholding part of the meaning from the French metropolitan reader (Cardonne-Arlyk, 1987). It has been noted that some of these poems could be described as ‘ethno-texts’ (Kestelloot, 1986: 99). However, a different process is at work in the translations, which are much clearer and more explicit for the European reader. Before the two cultures meet, a labour of acculturation has taken place whereby Senghor creates a unified African culture on the one side and a unified French culture on the other. The translation strategies play an important part on the African side, while the French language is the unifying and centralizing force in French culture. Métissage, hybridity, and acculturation Translation is often perceived as a means of decolonization and mutual under standing. However, it can be argued that Senghor used it in a very different way to develop and facilitate his position as world writer. A clear illustration of this point lies in the differences between the concept of métissage as used by Senghor and the meanings that the term has since come to acquire in cultural and translation studies, specifi- cally as Antoine Berman uses it. Berman wrote in relation to the ethical demands of translation, ‘l’essence de la traduction est d’être ouverture, dialogue, métissage, décentrement. Elle est mise en rapport, ou elle n’est rien’ (1984: 16). The term métis- sage is highly polysemous in French and often gives rise to terminological confusion. Originally it meant the mixing of two threads in a fabric (in 1834), and subsequently the mixing of different races, or hybridization in zoology or botany. Figuratively the expression métissage culturel came to be used to mean cultural cross-fertilization (or multi-culturalism in a whole society). Latterly the culturel has tended to be dropped, as in Berman’s statement about translation. It is interesting to note that for Edouard Glissant the term métissage is to be avoided, since it has too strong a connection to identity politics and to race, tribe, or birth (1996: 18–20). He prefers the related 114 KATHLEEN SHIELDS term créolisation, as it conveys the idea of an unpredictable process of constantly renewable and historically changing interactions between birth, language, and culture. Returning to Berman, he uses the word métissage in a European context in order to counteract what he calls ethnocentrism in translation, the dominance of one language, culture, and nation-state. He admires the openness of German Romantics (particularly Hölderlin, but also Schleiermacher and Goethe) to other languages and cultures at a time when they had no obvious nation-state. So when he says that translation involves ‘ouverture, décentrement’, it is clear that he means decentring from a strong monolingual base and national literature. Although Berman does not dwell on questions of origins, whether of tribe, nation, or religion, he conjures them up by the very use of the words métissage and ethnocentrism. Unlike Berman’s métissage, Senghor’s métissage functions in two ways, firstly by keeping different roles apart and as non-connecting facets, and secondly by allowing Senghor to be representative of different things at any given time. As he says himself, like many a writer he is the product of a biological mix, ‘ce métissage biologique’ (1990: 370). But more important is his mixed cultural heritage: ‘Encore que je sois culturellement enraciné dans la sérérité, mon père, serère, était de lointaine origine malinké avec un nom et, probablement, une goutte de sang portugais, tandis que ma mère, serère, était d’origine peule’ [1990: 370; italics in the original]. From this biological and cultural fusion he creates Senegalese identity. In the collaborative ‘Dialogue sur la poésie francophone’ the three metropolitan French-language writers, Pierre Emmanuel, Alain Bosquet, and Jean-Claude Renard need Senghor as much as, if not more than he needs them. They need his work and his translations in French because for them he is a representative figure. For the Belgian writer Bosquet, Senghor represents his people, the people of Senegal, while for Emmanuel and Renard he is simply ‘l’Africain’, thereby representing the whole continent of Africa (1990: 361–62, 365–67). So Senghor as a writer is metonymic twice over — a part or a facet can stand for the whole. The translations perform a similar function. As they are works that represent Senegal and Africa and expressed with the clarity and universality of the French language, they play an important part in the trajectory and validation of the world author. Translation for Senghor involves presenting a unified culture (the literature of black Africa) to another cultural zone (literature in French). As he writes in 1958 in his preface to a book of stories by Diop: ‘Voilà quelque cent cinquante ans que les blancs s’intéressent à la littérature des nègres d’Afrique [. . .] Mais voilà que les Négro-africains de langue française veulent eux-mêmes manifester cette littérature, et ils se présentent en traducteurs le plus souvent’ (Diop, 1958: 7). It is interesting that he sees translation as manifesting a literature. An important aspect of translation is representation, whereby a translation constructs an image while also exhibiting it (Tymoczko, 2006: 28). Translation itself is performative and constitutive in that it manifests a literature, and while the universal cultural zones are being manifested, they are also being invented. Throughout his career Senghor adopted a diffusionist model of cultures drawn from the German ethnologist Leo Frobenius, in particular the idea of aires culturelles or cultural zones. The translation’s function is then to interpret one of these 115LÉOPOLD SÉDAR SENGHOR’S TRANSLATIONS universals, the African, for the other, the French. Translating plays an important part in illustrating, constructing, and exhibiting a homogenous African zone. For instance, in one essay he samples the first few lines of ‘Chant du feu’, one of his translations already mentioned, along with short excerpts of other translated texts to illustrate what he calls the ‘vertus de la parole poétique nègre’. He uses the beginning of this translation to show how black poetry juxtaposes concrete with concrete image, repeats key words, and has its own rhythm and melody (1990: 394). This he distin- guishes from French writing which, he says, joins concrete with abstract images. His statement on the literatures arising within these zones is very similar to his statement in the Esprit article on the characteristics of French and African languages. Senghor engages in a similar appeal to his brand of métissage between French and African literatures and languages in the many prefaces he wrote for other writers, as Richard Watts notes: Senghor’s prefaces and their ambiguities are completely consonant with the rest of Senghor’s career, animated as it was by his desire to be a go-between, a figure who is both Senegalese and French, a bridge between what he views as two distinct cultures. Senghor was a fervent proponent, especially later in life, of the métissage of these two cultures. But Senghor’s version of métissage was based, as his prefaces show, on a notion of original purity. (2002: 85) As Watts says, later black preface writers like Glissant and Lopes stress that cultures are already mixed, if not always already mixed. While Senghor desired in his life and his politics to be a bridge between France and Africa, it is very important to distinguish at this point of the argument between the life and the translation strategies that he uses. The metaphor of the bridge is an overused and underexamined one in translation studies. If one were to use the bridge metaphor at all to describe Senghor’s translations, then it might be to say that the bridge was used for a brief time for traffic to pass in one direction and then forgotten once he became a world writer. A more appropriate metaphor is that of exhibiting or of showcasing samples of African literature. As it applies to translation, métissage, in Senghor’s sense of the term, is a joining of clearly-defined cultural zones seen as pure in themselves, and is also very far removed from métissage as Berman understands it. Instead of openness to other languages (ouverture) Senghor proposes translation from many languages into one, French, which will then radiate its clarity and universality throughout the world (rayonnement). Instead of Berman’s decentring, Senghor proposes acculturation, or adapting to a cultural centre of gravity, first African, then French. He then brings about a meeting of the two (or a métissage in his sense of the term). In his translations Senghor flattens, he universalizes, and he mystifies. These strategies are used in order to represent and to exhibit his culture, not just Senegalese but also African, on a world stage. The translations are a step in the career trajec- tory of a world writer because once they have been undertaken and completed there is no further need for translation. As Michael Cronin puts it in the context of tourism, it is possible for the need for translation to disappear: ‘It is resistance to translation, not acceptance, that generates translation. If a group of individuals or a people agree to translate themselves into another language, that is if they accept translation unreservedly, then the need for translation also disappears. For the translated there 116 KATHLEEN SHIELDS is no more translation’ (2000: 95). We could add that, when an individual embraces the other language as unreservedly as Senghor embraced French, then the need for translation also disappears. While he translated in order to represent his country in the united nations of world literature, this motive can also explain why he stopped translating. Senghor’s translations are an interesting case because they show that not all post-colonial African translators necessarily use translation to resist the Empire or to write back against its language. In an analogous way we can consider colonialism in the history of a people. It has been argued that retrospective distinctions are important when considering the history of colonialism: ‘If, some considerable time after a conquest, the conquered population comes to accept the state into which their ancestors had been forcibly inducted as legitimate, then what has been happening is state-building. If they do not, it is colonialism’ (Howe, 2000: 19). Nevertheless, the fact that some translations do not fit a pattern of post-colonial resistance is not a sufficient reason for not studying them. For Senghor to translate into French, and then to champion that language while ceasing to translate, was all part of representing a literature on the world stage. It helps the career of a world writer to compose in a world or a much-used language. A world writer tends to tell us far less about his or her culture than a lesser-known or minor writer from the same culture (to take the contrast between Senghor and Sembene Ousmane, for instance). A world writer is awarded many literary prizes by countries outside his or her own (certainly true of Senghor) and is translated into many other languages. Bibliographies, library catalogues, and databases list the many translations of Senghor rather than the small number of translations that are done by him. A further sign of Senghor’s success on the world stage is that at the end of his career he did a translation from one world language into another, from English into French (Senghor, 2001). To conclude, and to situate Senghor’s translations in relation to translation studies, they do not represent a decentring or a métissage in Berman’s sense, but rather offer a landscape where two ethnocentric centres (Africa and France) can be joined. There is an inherent optimism in Berman’s statement that the relationships brought about by translation necessarily entail decentring and dialogue. This optimism is not unique to Berman and indeed pervades translation studies. A few have questioned it. Douglas Robinson, for example, has drawn attention to a metanarrative of postcolo- nial translation studies whereby cultures are seen to progress through certain stages: the precolonial state, the colonial state, the postcolonial state, and a future decolonized state (1997: 89–90). Against the backdrop of optimistic views, Senghor’s translations present an interesting case. It is often assumed that decolonization leads to more and more translation. However, translation was important to him only while he was elaborating an African cultural zone, but faded into the background as he became a world writer. Note 1 I follow the approach of Jean Delisle and Judith Woodsworth (1995). Translators’ work is situated in relation to their lives while their lives are also situated in their historical moment. 117LÉOPOLD SÉDAR SENGHOR’S TRANSLATIONS References Adejunmobi, M. 1998. Translation and Postcolonial Identity: African Writing and European Languages. The Translator, 4(2): 163–81. Adotevi, S.S. 1998. Négritude et négrologues. Paris: L’Harmattan. Antia, B. 1999. La Traduction en anglais de la littérature francophone: Perception du phénomène au Nigéria. Meta, 44(3) [accessed 15 June 2007]. Available at: <http://www.erudit.org/revue/meta1999/v44/n3> Bandia, P. 2006. African Europhone Literature and Writing as Translation: Some Ethical Issues. In: T. Hermans, ed. Translating Others. Manchester: St Jerome, pp. 349–61. Berman, A. 1984. L’Epreuve de l’étranger: Culture et traduction dans l’Allemagne romantique. Paris: Gallimard. Cardonne-Arlyck, E. 1987. Effets de noms. Sud, special issue: 28–43. Cronin, M. 2000. Across the Lines: Travel, Language, Translation. Cork: Cork University Press. Delisle, J. and Woodsworth, J. eds. 1995. Les Traducteurs dans l’histoire. Ottawa: Presses de l’Université d’Ottawa. Diop, B. 1958. Les Nouveaux contes d’Amadou Koumba. Paris: Présence Africaine. Glissant, E. 1996. Introduction à une poétique du divers. Paris: Gallimard. Howe, S. 2000. Ireland and Empire: Colonial Legacies in Irish History and Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press. Jones, T. 1987. Some Intra- and Extra-Hexagonal Attitudes to French. French Studies Bulletin, 23: 3–5. Julien, E. 2003. Reading ‘Orality’ in French-Language Novels from Sub-Saharan Africa. In: C. Forsdick and D. Murphy, eds. Francophone Postcolonial Studies. London: Arnold, pp. 122–32. Kestelloot, L. 1986. Comprendre les poèmes de Léopold Sédar Senghor. Issy les Moulineaux: Saint-Paul. Leclerc, Y. 1987. Poésie, oralité, écriture. Sud, special issue: 165–88. Mouralis, B. 2001. Léopold Sédar Senghor. In: J.-P. de Beaumarchais, D. Couty, and A. Rey, eds. Dictionnaire des écrivains de langue française. Paris: Larousse, pp. 1784–85. Olivieri, C. 1998. Senghor: négritude et francophonie. Le Français dans le monde, special issue: 103–04. Robinson, D. 1997. Translation and Empire: Postcolonial Theories Explained. Manchester: St Jerome. Senghor, L.S. 1962. Le Français, langue de culture. Esprit, 837–44. Senghor, L.S. 1985. Anthologie de la nouvelle poésie nègre et malgache de langue française. Paris: Presses universitaires de France. Senghor, L.S. 1990. Œuvre poétique. Paris: Seuil. Senghor, L.S. 2001. La Rose de la paix et autres poèmes traduits de l’anglais par Léopold Sédar Senghor avec la collaboration de John Amery. Paris: L’Harmattan. Tymoczko, M. 2006. Reconceptualizing Western Translation Theory: Integrating Non-Western Thought about Translation. In: T. Hermans, ed. Translating Others. Manchester: St Jerome, pp. 13–32. Vaillant, J. 2002. Homage to Léopold Sédar Senghor: 1906–2001. Research in African Literatures, 33(4): 17–24. Watts, R. 2002. Senghor’s prefaces between the colonial and the postcolonial. Research in African Literatures, 33(4): 76–87. Westley, D.M. 2002. A Select Bibliography of the Works of Léopold Sédar Senghor. Research in African Literatures, 33(4): 88–100. Note on Contributor Correspondence to: Kathleen Shields, French Department, National University of Ireland Maynooth (NUI Maynooth), Maynooth, Co. Kildare, Ireland. Email: kathleen.m.shields@nuim.ie 
work_k63ggl5dvbbqfgg54bdypxhcpq	----	JSAH7704_08_Books 473..485 Chapters 2 and 3 focus on the decision to build. In the former, titled “Problems of the Site and the Struggle to Enlarge the Church,” Sankovitch carefully situates the early history and planning of the current building within the context of urban devel- opments in the neighborhood of Les Halles between the thirteenth and sixteenth centu- ries. Chapter 3 deals with patronage and convincingly brings Saint-Eustache under the umbrella of King Francis I’s ambitious urban projects of the late 1520s, along with Pierre Lescot’s design for the new Louvre and Domenico da Cortona’s interventions at the Hôtel de Ville. Sankovitch establishes a connection between Francis I and Saint- Eustache through the prevôt de Paris, Jean de La Barre, a representative of the king, who was directly involved in the financing and planning of the new church. Through a comparison of Saint-Eustache and Notre-Dame, she also draws a symbolic connection between the urban projects of Francis I and those of the Capetian king Philippe Auguste (1165–1223), who first es- tablished Paris as capital city. Titled “A Revised Building History, the First Master, and Serlio,” chapter 4 presents a close analysis of the building’s architec- tural features; this ninety-page chapter, which features 199 illustrations, constitutes the core of the volume. Here, Sankovitch details the chronology of the building’s first construction campaign and provides a me- ticulous visual analysis of the architecture and decorations that characterize its differ- ent phases. She identifies the publication of Sebastiano Serlio’s Book IV (1537) as a defining event for the project of Saint- Eustache, after which the classicizing vo- cabulary of its decorative apparatus took an “orthodox” turn. Chapter 5 deals with the identity of the building’s architect. Since the mid- nineteenth century, the design of the church has been attributed to, in turn, Domenico da Cortona, Pierre Lemercier, and Jean Delamarre. Given that the ar- chival record has proved insufficient to confirm a name, Sankovitch’s aim is not to establish who designed the church but rather to create a “stylistic profile for the architect” (135). This approach, which brings the author into discussions of a variety of relevant buildings—including Saint-Maclou in Pontoise; Saint-Merry, Saint-Etienne-du-Mont, and Saint-Victor in Paris; Saint-Martin in Triel; Saint-Pierre in Caen; and the churches of Villiers-le-Bel and Momtargis—thus resituates Saint- Eustache in the landscape of early Renais- sance architecture in France. Sankovitch makes a compelling argument for attribut- ing the building to Delamarre, and she also sketches a possible career trajectory for him. As Étienne Hamon points out in his response, her hypotheses have been sup- ported—if not definitely confirmed—by recently discovered documentation on De- lamarre’s work in Paris in the 1510s. The book’s final two chapters consider the design choices made at Saint-Eustache and the principles regulating the project. Chapter 6, “The Presence of the Past at Saint-Eustache from Cluny to Pavia,” ex- plores a variety of sources that help to situ- ate the design among French Romanesque and High Gothic buildings. Sankovitch paints a complex picture of the relationship between Saint-Eustache and other Flam- boyant buildings—a picture that has since been enriched by the recent contributions already noted on Flamboyant architecture in Paris and beyond. Chapter 7, “Gothic and Late-Gothic Strategies of Architec- tural Composition,” examines the design methods employed by the architect of Saint-Eustache. Sankovitch identifies two operative methods: first, the “repeti- tion of the same form at a varied scale and proportions” (207), and second, the “dec- orative variety within the same or similar forms” (213). She then proceeds to illus- trate how these principles were applied in the church’s composition, thus providing the reader with a clear analytical frame- work for comprehending its complexity. It would be unfair to linger on the im- perfections of a dissertation that was not intended to be published “as is,” but the ed- itorial choice of not translating into English the numerous quotations from French lit- erature seems questionable, as it prevents many nonspecialist readers from fully ap- preciating the subtleties of Sankovitch’s rea- soning. This shortcoming, however, does not reduce the overall quality of a text that reads well, is supported by solid documen- tation, presents compelling arguments, and brings forth a theoretical approach that stands strong almost three decades after it was devised. The corrections that Hamon suggests in his response (xi–xiii) are of a chronological rather than a theoretical nature, and they do not undermine the validity of Sankovitch’s work. The Church of Saint-Eustache in the Early French Renaissance is an authoritative reference on Saint- Eustache and a fundamental contribution to the literature on late medieval and early modern European architecture. SARA GALLETTI Duke University Note 1. This literature is exemplified by the following works, all of which focus on Paris: Agnès Bos, Les églises flamboyantes de Paris (XVe–XVIe siècles) (Paris: Picard, 2003); Tiziana Pezzella, Saint- Etienne-du-Mont: Storia di una chiesa parigina (Bologna: Pitagora, 2009); Étienne Hamon, Une capitale flamboyante: La création monumen- tale à Paris autour de 1500 (Paris: Picard, 2011). Other recent volumes treating the broader landscape of late Gothic and early Renaissance architecture include Yves Esquieu, Du gothique à la Renaissance: Architecture et décor en France, 1470–1550: Actes du colloque de Viviers, 20–23 septembre 2001 (Aix-en-Provence: Publications de l’Université de Provence, 2003); Monique Chatenet et al., eds., Le gothique de la Renaissance: Actes des quatrième rencontres d’architecture europé- enne, Paris, 12–16 juin 2007 (Paris: Picard, 2011); Ethan Matt Kavaler, Renaissance Gothic: Architec- ture and the Arts in Northern Europe, 1470–1540 (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 2012). Itohan Osayimwese Colonialism and Modern Architecture in Germany Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2017, 344 pp., 8 color and 74 b/w illus. $49.95 (cloth), ISBN 9780822945086 For a work of historical scholarship, Ito- han Osayimwese’s Colonialism and Modern Architecture in Germany has a surprisingly compelling opening. In the first senten- ces, the author stages a meeting in Berlin during the summer of 1913, where, gath- ered around a massive oak table, are “some of the men now considered to be the doy- ens of modern architecture in Germany”: Henry van de Velde, Hermann Muthesius, Bruno Taut, Walter Gropius, Hans Poelzig, Paul Schultze-Naumburg, and Dominikus Böhm, as well as some “lesser-known col- leagues and protégés,” including Carl Re- horst, Adolf von Oechelhäuser, Konrad Wachsmann, and—the lone woman in the group—Margarete Knüppelholz-Roeser (3). On the agenda is a discussion of “the status 478 J S A H | 7 7 . 4 | D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 8 of architecture in the German colonies,” which leads to a conversation about ideas and language that, as Osayimwese suggests, “arefamiliartoreaderstoday,”ontopicssuch as the excessively ornamented “style archi- tecture” in the protectorate of Kiaochow, the lack of objectivity in the floor plan of “ ‘parvenu’ villas” in the city of Qingdao, and the certain success of developing standard housing types and prefabricated houses in Dar es Salaam. Perhaps, Osayim- wese imagines the group murmuring, “there is something to be learned from Germany’s costly colonial adventure after all” (3). The meeting did take place, but not as described above. As the author notes, her depiction of the event is “fictitious in its finer details” (4). Most of those mentioned were not even present. Through this mise- en-scène, Osayimwese in one elegant stroke introducesthemainprotagonistsinherbook aswell asthe central theme that pervadesher narrative, namely, “how colonial encounters and imperial entanglements affected archi- tectural developments within Germany it- self” (5). Not coincidentally, the meeting is staged in Berlin and not in Dar es Salaam (Tanzania), Douala (Cameroon), Windhoek (Namibia), or Qingdao (China). The book then can be understood, as the author states, as a response to that provocation for post- colonial studies articulated in 2000 by Dipesh Chakrabarty: the need to pro- vincialize Europe.1 Even if such an exercise is not entirely new in architectural history, doing it for the German context is important for at least two reasons. First, current histories have tended to overlook the fact that parts of the genealogy of modern architecture in Germany, the birthplace of the Bauhaus, need to be sought elsewhere, particularly outside Europe. Osayimwese convincingly fills this lacuna. Second, the scholarship on German colonial architecture is rather sparse, and what does exist is dispersed in publications not readily available or acces- sible to an international (let alone Anglo- phone) readership. In that respect, this book is a welcome addition to the scholar- ship on architecture in what were—from the late nineteenth century until 1919, when the Treaty of Versailles temporarily put an end to Germany’s international ambitions—territories under German rule or parts of its sphere of influence: South- west Africa, Togo, Cameroon, East Africa, Kiaochow, and the Pacific colonies.2 Osayimwese also points to some of the ex- cellent recent historical scholarship on Germany’s colonial past.3 And yet, in both its content and its methodological ap- proach, this book has relevance for the study of colonial architecture well beyond that of the German case. Osayimwese’s account is organized into five chapters, most of which are closely interconnected. The opening chapter, dealing with the colonial presence as seen at international exhibitions held in Ger- many, in particular the 1896 Berlin Trade Exhibition, underlines a crucial methodo- logical aspect of the study. The 1896 exhi- bition provides a case par excellence of what Osayimwese calls a “colonial archive,” a concept that is crucial to her argument that architectural practices and forms trans- formed “in response to new conditions such as colonialism” (14). Drawing on theoreti- cal reflections on the archive by art his- torians like Thomas Osborne and Okwui Enwezor and postcolonial thinkers such as Ann Laura Stoler and Achille Mbembe, Osayimwese discerns two modalities of the colonial archive: one that sees it as “an encyclopedic documentation” and one that views the archive as functioning as “a sys- tem governing discourse,” defining what is being said and what is left out (17). Allow- ing her to think beyond notions like influ- ence and translation, the archive becomes for Osayimwese a tool for “explor[ing] the profusion of writing, idiosyncratic lan- guage, and distinctive rhetorical formula- tions associated with both modernism and colonialism in Germany during this period” (18). The various types of colonial materials displayed at exhibitions in Germany— whether re-created native villages, model colonial houses, ethnographic artifacts, or photographs illustrating the achievements of the German colonial enterprise—form an important starting point for the book’s broader analysis. The theme of exhibitions as archive resurfaces in later chapters, in particular chapter 4, which considers the 1914 Werkbund Exhibition, that founda- tional moment in the history of Germany’s modern architecture, and chapter 5, which traces the colonial origins of modernist prefabrication. Seeing exhibitions as “definitive em- bodiments of modernity” (22), Osayimwese situates them within her larger argument at different levels of importance: as media to “amend public taste” and stimulate mod- ernist reform (56); as forums for the “re- orientation of artistic and architectural production toward global markets” (46); as “floodgates for knowledge produc- tion,” allowing broad audiences as well as armchair scholars and professionals to gain information on areas previously unknown (50); and as sites where, despite differing viewpoints on the value of traditional cul- tures and which colonial policies should be implemented, racial and cultural differen- ces were made explicit.4 It is the discursive role of exhibitions that holds Osayimwese’s attention, rather than the mere fact that they enabled architects to come into con- tact with foreign cultures, a topic already well addressed in many histories of architecture. This attention to the discursive is at the heart of chapter 2, devoted to what Osayimwese calls “architectural ethnogra- phy.” Illustrating how German architects had become more globally mobile by the end of the nineteenth century, she demon- strates that the architectural profession in Germany was much less insular than stan- dard histories lead us to believe, stressing that new genealogies of modern architec- ture need to include more in-depth discus- sions of how “architects’ travel experiences affected developments at home in Ger- many” (62). The chapter commences with brief descriptions of well-known cases showing how ethnography was “part of the late nineteenth-century German milieu” (63). These cases include Gottfried Sem- per’s fascination with the full-scale “Car- aib” Indian house from Trinidad displayed at the 1851 Great Exhibition in London, Bruno Taut’s interest in the Orient and his investigation of traditional architecture in both Turkey and Japan, and Ludwig Mies van der Rohe’s reading of ethnographic texts, in particular the writings of the German ethnologist Leo Frobenius, who praised the austere, stern, tectonic features of African architecture. More revealing, however, is Osayimwese’s discussion of those lesser-known, often state-certified architects or engineers who worked abroad as railway or construction experts, involved in what historian Dirk van Laak has termed “infrastructural imperialism” (13).5 Hermann Frobenius, father of Leo and author of Afrikanische Bautypen: Eine B O O K S 479 ethnographisch-architektonische Studie (1894), is a case in point, as are Franz Baltzer in Japan, Karl Döhring in Siam, and Hein- rich Hildebrand and Ernst Boerschmann in China.6 All of these men embodied the mythology of the German engineer, but they also produced studies of traditional architecture that, in turn, influenced the architectural debate at home via publica- tions in journals such as the Centralblatt der Bauverwaltung, the official organ of the Prussian Public Works Ministry. Osayimwese reveals the fascinating inter- textuality among these various architec- tural ethnographies, showing how they belonged to a productive colonial ar- chive. Her book would have benefited, however, from expanding this observation beyond German borders—for instance, Leo Frobenius’s documentation of African rock art later influenced 1930s debates on colonial architecture in France and Belgium.7 Yet Osayimwese has good reason to ground her analysis of the discursive dimen- sion of the colonial archive in Germany, for the language used to discuss German colo- nial architecture was quite specific, as the third chapter of the book reveals. Struc- tured around the fascinating question of how Heimatschutz, a notion crucial to the “fundamentally modern German discourse about belonging and identity” (108), played out in the context of German colonies, the chapter shows how some of the key notions around German colonial architecture at the turn of the century were closely aligned with those that would inform architectural reform inside Germany. Equivalents to some of these concepts, like Sachlichkeit (objectivity) and Zweckmässigkeit (purpo- siveness), surfaced in discussions of how to build in colonial territories beyond Ger- many’s. But through the dimension of Hei- mat, and especially the related idea of Bodenständigkeit (contextualism), the Ger- man debate was quite distinct, as Kenny Cupers also has recently noted.8 Pleas for a colonial architecture whose built form and materials would suit the character of its lo- cation were advanced by figures like Adolf von Oechelhäuser, member of the Bund Heimatschutz, the Congress for Historic Preservation, and the Colonial Society. But Osayimwese’s meticulous dissection of the debate on colonial Heimatschutz illustrates how fraught it was with contradictions, especially because it remained unclear how one could reconcile the notion of Heimat, which is about “nurturing the genius loci of place,” with the basic premise of colonial ideology: that colonized people were devoid of any worthwhile culture of their own. Es- pecially relevant here is how such colonial contradictions reflected the debate in Ger- many, for “in the colonial context, the prob- lems with German architecture became clearer” (119). In this respect, it is quite tell- ing that armchair scholars (those who stud- ied the colonies without ever setting foot in them), rather than figures with embedded expertise in the colonial territories, were dominating the scene, and that at least one observer saw the refusal to acknowledge existing local architectural knowledge as perhaps “the greatest shortcoming of the project to reform architecture in the colo- nies” (123). These contradictions also surface in Osayimwese’s analysis of the few projects she was able to find from the significant number of entries submitted to a 1914 com- petition organized by the German Colonial Society, which invited architects to develop designs for a hospital in the South Seas, a government building in German Southwest Africa, a house in Cameroon, and a house in East Africa. Most of these designs were rather generic and suggest a preference for Typisierung (roughly, “industrialized stan- dardization”) such as was advocated by one of the key protagonists of Germany’s architectural reform movement, Hermann Muthesius.9 Not coincidentally, perhaps, as Osayimwese notes, the colonial archive is “replete with buildings that were conceived as types rather than as custom-designed sol- utions” (150). Drawing on the work of Peter Scriver, whose study of public works archi- tecture in British India remains the most profound investigation of the principles un- derlying the type-based design approach in a colonial context, Osayimwese suggests that the “possibilities of ‘type’ as a heuristic for a modern architecture language became even clearer” when a model colonial house was designed for display at the 1914 Werk- bund Exhibition (185).10 Chapter 5 demonstrates that the pre- fabricated structures designed for the colonial territories, conceived by German building firms such as Christoph & Un- mack and F. H. Schmidt, are even more revealing of the intricate relationships between colonialism and modernism. De- signs like Christoph & Unmack’s model tropical house of 1908—featuring sun sails, a veranda, mosquito netting, and special folding furniture—became darlings of German reformist architects for how they “appropriated architectural technologies and forms that had been perfected in the colonial field, and connected the modernist rhetoric of purposiveness (Zweckmässigkeit), objectivity (Sachlichkeit), and contextualism (Bodenständigkeit) with an existing discourse on building efficiently and contextually in the tropics” (187). It is in this last chapter that Osayimwese reconnects her narrative with her book’s larger ambition—that of presenting a “more global history” of German modern architecture. Yet these building firms were exporting their products far beyond the boundaries of the German Empire. Shel- ters closely resembling Christoph & Un- mack’s Doecker model, for instance, popped up along the emerging railroad network in the Congo Free State, where they were referred to as maisons danoises, or Danish houses. Such transcolonial flows and exchanges surface in Osayimwese’s book but are not explicitly articulated, as they fall outside the scope of what is, first and foremost, a book that investigates how discussions of architecture in/on the Ger- man colonies prefigured and influenced those in the mother country. This is also why the widespread practice of self-build- ing in German colonies (illustrated by manuals like Carl Pauli’s 1911 book Der Kolonist der Tropen als Häuser-, Wege- und Brückenbauer) does not feature promi- nently in her analysis. It would, however, make sense to open the narrative beyond the nationalist framework and study the impact of German expertise beyond the foundational moment of German modern architecture and the 1919 endpoint of the German Empire. In this way, we might gain a better understanding of how a ne- glected figure like the engineer Friedrich Vick, for instance, was able to influence building practices in Central Africa with his 1938 book Einfluβ des tropischen Klimas auf Gestaltung und Konstruktion der Ge- bäude.11 If this remains a story to be writ- ten, it is one of the major contributions of Osayimwese’s book, along with the crucial correction it makes about the genealogy of modern architecture in Germany, to have 480 J S A H | 7 7 . 4 | D E C E M B E R 2 0 1 8 demonstrated that any discussion of colo- nial architecture can no longer ignore the German case. JOHAN LAGAE Ghent University Notes 1. Dipesh Chakrabarty, Provincializing Europe: Post- colonial Thought and Historical Difference (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 2000). 2. Wolfgang Lauber was the first to compile sub- stantial documentation on German Togo and Cameroon, which is complemented by French scholarship. See Wolfgang Lauber, Deutsche Archi- tektur in Kamerun 1884–1914 (Stuttgart: Karl Krämer Verlag, 1988); Wolfgang Lauber, Deutsche Architektur in Togo 1884–1914 (Stuttgart: Karl Krämer Verlag, 1993); Jacques Soulillou, ed., Rives coloniales: Architectures, de Saint-Louis à Douala (Marseille: Parenthèses/Orstrom, 1993); Bernard Toulier and Marc Pabois, eds., Architecture coloniale et patrimoine: Expériences européennes (Paris: Institut National du Patrimoine/Somogy, 2006). On Na- mibia, see Walter Peters, Baukunst in Südwestafrika, 1884–1914 (Windhoek: SWA Wissenschaftlichen Gesellschaft, 1981). On Tanzania and the city of Dar es Salaam, there is a substantial body of work by Karl Vorlaufer, James Brennan, and, more re- cently, Patrick Hege and the Dar es Salaam Centre for Architectural Heritage. Eduard Kögel has done groundbreaking work on the presence and activities of German architects in Asia, China in particular. 3. For an engaged overview of German colonial- ism, see George Steinmetz, The Devil’s Handwrit- ing: Precoloniality and the German Colonial State in Qingdao, Samoa, and Southwest Africa (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 2007). Osayimwese’s bibliography contains numerous references to German scholarship. 4. For an untangling and explanation of the com- monalities and sometimes striking distinctions among Germany’s colonial policies, see George Steinmetz, “The Colonial State as a Social Field: Ethnographic Capital and Native Policy in the German Overseas Empire before 1914,” American Sociological Review 73 (Aug. 2008), 589–612. 5. Dirk van Laak, Imperiale Infrastruktur: Deutsche Planungen für eine Erschlieβung Afrikas 1880 bis 1960 (Paderborn: Schöningh, 2004). 6. Osayimwese cites Eduard Kögel’s extensive re- search on the work of Ernst Boerschmann, includ- ing reissues of some his original texts. 7. Architects Henri-Jean Calsat and Henri La- coste were familiar with Frobenius’s work and were involved in designing projects for French and Belgian territories in Africa. 8. Kenny Cupers, “Bodenständigkeit: The Environ- mental Epistemology of Modernism,” Journal of Architecture 21, no. 8 (2016), 1226–52. 9. Typisierung, a notion that goes back to the well- known debate between Muthesius and Van de Velde at the 1914 Werkbund Congress in Co- logne, often has been translated as “industrialized standardization.” However, it is closer to the notion of “type,” which was more about striving for “a universally valid, unfailing good taste” (Mu- thesius) and thus a means of “bringing order to the chaotic world of mass consumption ruled by fash- ion, individualism and anomie.” See Adrian Forty, Words and Buildings: A Vocabulary of Modern Archi- tecture (London: Thames and Hudson, 2000), 307. 10. Peter Scriver, “Empire-Building and Think- ing in the Public Works Department of British In- dia,” in Colonial Modernities: Building, Dwelling and Architecture in British India and Ceylon, ed. Peter Scriver and Vikramaditya Prakash (London: Routledge, 2007), 69–92. 11. Vick’s book was a crucial source, for instance, for Belgian engineer Egide Devroey’s report Hab- itations coloniales et conditionnement d’air sous les tro- piques, presented in 1940 to the Institut Royal Colonial Belge. Tamara Bjažić Klarin Ernest Weissmann: Socially Engaged Architecture, 1926–1939 Zagreb: Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts, 2015, 350 pp., 226 b/w illus. $57 (paper), ISBN 9789531541893 Tamara Bjažić Klarin’s Ernest Weissmann, published in both Serbo-Croatian and English, is the first scholarly monograph available on this little-known yet highly significant figure in the history of modern architecture and urbanism. Based on exten- sive archival research, Klarin, described here as a “longtime associate of the Croatian Museum of Architecture,” offers a definitive and well-illustrated account of Weissmann’s European career before 1939. She has con- sulted many Serbo-Croatian language ar- chives in Zagreb and elsewhere in the former Yugoslavia, as well as the Bauhaus Archive in Berlin and the Ernest Weiss- mann Archive, which is now available at the Frances Loeb Library, Harvard Graduate School of Design. Ernest Weissmann (1903–85) grew up in the Croatian capital of Zagreb, in what was then the Austro-Hungarian Empire. He received his diploma in architecture there in 1926 from the Department of Ar- chitecture at the Technical School of Higher Education, today the University of Zagreb. In the late 1920s he moved to Paris and worked with Adolf Loos on the Tristan Tzara House in Montmartre (1927–29). With the help of Gabriel Guévrékian, Weissmann then joined Le Corbusier’s atelier around the same time as Josep Lluís Sert, Charlotte Perriand, and Kunio Maekawa. These associates, all then work- ing on the Centrosoyuz project in Moscow, would later be central figures in the Con- grès Internationaux d’Architecture Mo- derne, founded in 1928. Once back in in Zagreb in 1929, Weissmann led the Work Group Zagreb, a Yugoslav CIAM group, and attended the Barcelona meeting of the Comité International pour la Réalisation des Problèmes de la Architecture Contem- porain (CIRPAC, CIAM’s executive body) in 1932 and CIAM 4 in 1933. He then worked on the Yugoslav national world’s fair pavilions in Paris and New York, immi- grating to New York in 1939. Once there, Weissmann partnered with Sert in de- signing an unbuilt Manhattan apartment house project (not included in this book) before taking a staff position at the U.S. Board of Economic Warfare, Foreign Eco- nomic Administration, in Washington D.C. (1942–44). Klarin suggests that this job may have been the result of his earlier CIAM contacts with Buckminster Fuller, Knud Lonberg-Holm, and others in the New York group Structural Study Associates in 1933. In any case, Weissmann worked as an assistantto Fuller on his Dymaxion Deploy- ment Unit project in 1941. In 1944, he was appointed director of the Industrial Reha- bilitation Division of the United Nations Relief and Rehabilitation Administration, and after 1947, he held many positions in housing and planningat theUnited Nations until his retirement in 1974. Klarin’s book presents a detailed, year- by-year account of Weissmann’s educational influencesand early careerto 1939,anditof- fers the patient reader much new factual and visual material not previously available. The discussionofWeissmann’sprofessionalwork includes his modern schools and his 1929 Centrosoyuz-inspired competition entry for the Zagreb Foundation Block, designed in violation of the rules with his non-Yugoslav Le Corbusier associates Norman Rice (UnitedStates)andKunioMaekawa(Japan). Klarin also documents and illustrates his many CIAM-related activities, publications, andexhibitionsafter1929withWorkGroup Zagreb,whichalsoincludedYugoslavCIAM members Vladimir Antolić and Drago Ibler. Weissmann’s other works from this early internationalist period included his Founda- tion and Clinical Hospital project in Zagreb, an innovative 1931 competition design illus- trated on the book’s cover. 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work_kataom5thfha7fdsfu4a4jsznu	----	The Reception of Josephus in the Early Modern Period The Reception of Josephus in the Early Modern Period Martin Goodman1 • Joanna Weinberg1 Published online: 7 July 2016 � Springer Science+Business Media Dordrecht 2016 The reception of Josephus needs no justification as the topic of this special issue of the International Journal of the Classical Tradition. In almost every nook and cranny of the early modern cultural landscape, the Jewish historian Flavius Josephus makes an appearance: in theological discourses and polemics, in chronology and historiography, in biblical criticism and even in drama. What was the appeal of Josephus, and when and how was he read? Why was he the most popular of the ancient historians? Was it because of, or despite, the role of his writings within sacred history, as well as within the classical tradition, and how did early modern authors and readers respond to his status as a Jew? These are some of the questions discussed in the following essays, which are drawn from a seminar held in Oxford in 2014 under the auspices of the Oxford Centre for Hebrew and Jewish Studies. Josephus was a Jewish priest from Judaea who participated in the Jewish revolt against Rome which culminated in the destruction of the Jerusalem Temple by the emperor Titus in 70 CE. Of his extant literary works, all of which survive only in Greek and translations from the Greek, the first was an account in seven books of the revolt and its aftermath, of which at least the first six books were composed, probably in Rome and primarily for Roman readers, within a decade of the end of the war. The Jewish War (Bellum Judaicum) was followed, a little over ten years later, by the monumental Jewish Antiquities (Antiquitates Judaicae), of which the first half traced Jewish history from earliest times, paraphrasing the biblical texts, and the second half brought the narrative up to Josephus’s own day. Appended to the twenty books of the Antiquitates was an autobiography (Vita), which focused on Josephus’s role as a rebel commander in Galilee during the war against Rome. His & Joanna Weinberg joanna.weinberg@orinst.ox.ac.uk 1 Faculty of Oriental Studies, University of Oxford, Oxford, UK 123 Int class trad (2016) 23(3):167–171 DOI 10.1007/s12138-016-0398-2 http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s12138-016-0398-2&amp;domain=pdf http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1007/s12138-016-0398-2&amp;domain=pdf final work, written after 93 CE, was a defence of Judaism entitled in the manuscripts and editions Contra Apionem; this work included in the second of two books a description of the Jewish constitution, for which he coined the word ‘theocratia’ to capture the role of God as ruler. In comparison to most other classical historians, Josephus provided an unusual amount of information about himself, not least in the Vita. The writings of the ‘Greek Livy’, as Jerome called Josephus, were preserved and read later in antiquity by Christians and possibly by pagans, but not apparently by Jews. Translations and paraphrases of his works into Latin circulated among Christians in late antiquity, as did renderings, in whole or in part, into Syriac and Old Slavonic in the early Middle Ages. The Bellum Judaicum provided graphic evidence of the destruction of the Temple which Jesus had foretold (Matt. 24:1) and the Antiquitates the background to ancient Jewish history missing from the biblical books, such as the dynastic rule of the Hasmoneans and of Herod and his descendants. Contra Apionem was copied in the medieval manuscripts of Josephus, but apparently little studied. The fortuna of Josephus’s works from the end of the first millennium CE to the early modern period is inextricably bound up with the historical narrative of Josippon, written in Hebrew under the name of Joseph ben Gurion by a southern Italian Jew in the tenth century and containing much material from the Antiquitates and a Latin paraphrase of the Bellum. This somewhat garbled version of Jewish history from the creation to Masada became a bestseller among Jewish readers, who used it as a guide through the years of the Second Temple period, which were badly charted in the rabbinic tradition on which they otherwise relied. Josippon was first printed in Mantua between 1476 and 1479 and translated into Yiddish as early as 1546, ‘for merchants who do not have time to study Torah.’ 1 In the sixteenth century, the work was translated into Latin; and although its authenticity was questioned, scholars continued to peruse it with great assiduity and in relation to the genuine Josephus. Thus, for example, after rigorous study, Isaac Casaubon could assert: ‘You can tell that he is not just a translator of the Greek Josephus but an author in his own right.’ 2 The popularity of Josephus’s writings did not help to accelerate the printing of his original Greek text. Although Latin renderings (an ancient one ascribed to Rufinus and Sigismund Gelenius’s version) and vernacular translations poured out of the presses from the fifteenth century onwards, it was not until 1544 that the editio princeps of the Greek text was issued from Froben’s printing house in Basel. This publication did not put a halt to the repeated printing of Gelenius’s Latin translation, which was frequently updated as more manuscripts became available. 3 1544 was also the year in which the works of Basil and Eusebius came into print; as 1 Two of the 2014 seminars, given by Andrea Schatz and Joshua Teplitsky, were devoted to the circulation and translation of the Josippon for the Yiddish-reading public. 2 A. Grafton and J. Weinberg, ‘‘I have always loved the Holy Tongue’’: Isaac Casaubon, the Jews, and a Forgotten Chapter in Renaissance Scholarship, Cambridge, MA and London, 2011, p. 204. 3 Andreas Ammann (University of Berne) is writing a doctoral thesis on the as yet little known history of the editing and translating of Josephus’s works in the context of Christian humanism in Basel and the Rhineland in the 16th century. 168 M. Goodman, J. Weinberg 123 Anthony Grafton stressed in his opening and concluding sessions of the seminar, something about early modern perceptions of Josephus’s role as writer of sacred history may be gleaned from the simultaneous printing of these three writers. But just as Josephus seems to address different readerships in his works, so, too, his works inspired a variety of readers. 4 For some, his narrative of destruction could be appreciated in its own right as drama and as a moral lesson about God’s vengeance and the recalcitrance of the Jews, or used as a lesson to apply to contemporary political conditions. 5 Complaints about the state of the text were raised by philologists but also served ideological purposes when questions of the authenticity of the Testimonium Flavianum, for example, were discussed. As an eye- witness to the downfall of Jerusalem and the massive slaughter that followed, Josephus fascinated, horrified and sometimes angered Christian readers of many different kinds. When the Latin Contra Apionem began to attract attention in the fifteenth century, his arguments about the history of the ancient nations, and his description and use of ancient Near Eastern writers who were credible because they were official notaries, brought to the fore questions of historical fides. 6 Josephus’s attractive additions to Scripture, allegedly based on sources of ancient and infallible authority, spawned their own rewritten Bible throughout the Middle Ages; some of the most attractive stories were then adopted and adapted in a feat of admirable dexterity by the master forger Annius of Viterbo at the end of the fifteenth century. On the other hand, Josephus’s embellishments of Scripture were often rejected as the fatuities of a Jew: more than a century after Annius, Cesare Baronio would infuriate Isaac Casaubon and Joseph Scaliger by preferring the testimony of the Christians Jerome and Eusebius to that of the Jew Josephus regarding the celestial voices that were heard in Jerusalem before the destruction of the Temple, which Josephus had experienced at first hand. 7 4 In his paper for the seminar, Scott Mandelbrote discussed the extensive use of Josephus in English education during the 18th century. 5 See, e.g., P. M. Smith, ‘The Reception and Influence of Josephus’s Jewish War in the Late French Renaissance with Special Reference to the Satyre Menippée’, Renaissance Studies, 13, 1999, pp. 173–91. 6 See C. R. Ligota, ‘Annius of Viterbo and Historical Method’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 50, 1987, pp. 44–56. 7 J. Scaliger, Thesaurus temporum, Leiden, 1606, Animadversiones in chronologica Eusebii, pp. 171–2, esp. 172: ‘Conditor Annalium Ecclesiasticorum ausus est postulare Iosephum delirii, ut Sophoclem filii sui apud Areopaghitas, quod haec ad tempora belli Iudaici coniecerit, quum Eusebius, inquit, ad tempus Passionis Dominicae retulerit: quasi Iosephus ab Eusebio res Iudaicas didicerit.’ Isaac Casaubon, De rebus sacris et ecclesiasticis exercitationes XVI, London, 1614, pp. 649–50: ‘Illud vero quod sequitur, neque verum est, neque probabile, sed mera est Hieronymi atque Eusebii hallucinatio. Scribunt illi, tempore passionis Domini, praesides Templi virtutes alta voce exclamasse LESABAIMXLEM, EMSE!HEM TRANSEAMUS EX HIS SEDIBVS. Scribunt autem ambo, tanquam Iosepho prius dictum: testem enim illum laudantur, & testem solum. Extat locus Iosephi Akx9rex1, libro sexto capit. 31 narrat autem hoc Iosephus inter prodigia quae urbis & Templi excidium antecesserunt, & vocem illam ait auditam noctu, tempore Pentecostes, anno ante captam eversamque urbe sexto, Christi 65. Hieronymus tamen & Eusebius ita rem ex Iosepho recitant, quasi ille scripsisset circa tempus passionis id accidisse. Verba Hieronymi sunt in Epistola ad Marcellam sub nomine Paulae & Eustochii: Denique etiam Iosephum, qui vernaculus est scriptor Iudaeorum, asserere: illo tempore, quo crucifixus est Dominus, ex adytis Templi virtutum coelestium erupisse voces dicentium, TRANSMIGREMVS EX HIS SEDIBVS. [Jerome Ep. 46.4: Denique etiam Iosephum, qui vernaculus scriptor est Iudaeorum, asserere, illo tempore quo crucifixus est Dominus, ex adytis Templi Virtutum coelestium erupisse voces, dicentium: The Reception of Josephus in the Early Modern Period 169 123 The question of Josephus’s identity and reliability remained in dispute throughout the early modern period; but when necessary, his testimony could be called upon. So, for instance, between 1596 and 1604, the Jesuit Juan Bautista Villalpando, in association with his colleague Juan de Prado, produced a reconstruction of the Solomonic Temple and its paraphernalia as modified by Ezekiel’s vision, in three massive volumes. 8 In their view, the Temple foreshad- owed the Church of Rome, and all its parts represented the mystical body of Christ. Indeed, Villalpando was convinced that a set of original designs drawn by the hand of God was somewhere to be found. According to Villalpando, all classical architecture derived from Jewish models, as did the Vitruvian rules for the orders. The Temple was a modified Corinthian column carrying a Doric trabeation. This was a fact, because in the Antiquities (XV.410–20) Josephus had claimed that the capitals of the Temple porticoes were Corinthian. Moreover, Josephus had also suggested that Herod’s Temple was built according to Solomonic proportions, thus demonstrating that it was a faithful reproduction of the divinely inspired original. Villalpando’s work received critical acclaim, and his illustrations came to adorn not only illustrated Bibles but also editions of Josephus – and to inspire the designs for Reformed churches and Jewish synagogues in the seventeenth-century Low Countries. 9 Villalpando’s ideological antiquarianism thus relied on Josephus, and inciden- tally brought his works into several different contexts simultaneously. This is only one of many examples of the influence, direct and indirect, of Josephus’s writings on varied aspects of the religious, political and cultural history of early modern Europe. Such influence, and the many vernacular translations of his writings, made Josephus into a household name, particularly in English-speaking countries through the most renowned of the English translators, William Whiston (1737). 10 From a variety of perspectives, the essays in this volume deal with the multiple ways in which Josephus’s writings attracted readers, editors and translators in the early modern period. We have made no attempt to make this volume exhaustive in Footnote 7 continued Transmigremus ex his sedibus.] Observet candidus lector, non simpliciter Hieronymum dicere hoc ita accidisse. Eusbius in Chronico aliquanto aliter & ad veritatem propius: Iosephus vernaculus Iudaeorum scriptor, circa haec tempora die Pentecostes, Sacerdotes primum commotiones locorum & quosdam sonitus sensisse testatur: deinde ex adyto Templi, repentinam subito erupisse vocem dicentium, TRANSMIGREMVS EX HIS SEDIBVS. [Ol. 202] Si dicerent Eusebius & Hieronymus, rem accidisse quam narrant, neque testem fidei suae Iosephum laudarent: non dubitarem quin esset illis credendum: nunc, quis non intelligit humanitus illos errasse, & in tempore auditae vocis insigniter esse lapsos? Itaque ne constant quidem sibi & rem eandem varie narrant, hoc est, variis modis depravant. Vide Lector quae notat Iosephus Scaliger ad numerum Eusebianum MMXLIV. Baronii vero iniquitatem nescio dicam, an supinitatem incredibilem, quis ferat? Parum est, quod errorem adeo manifestum non animadvertit: ille vero Iosephum etiam accusat, & vel crassa negligentia vel insigni malitia tempora vult confudisse verumque tam falso insigni illi scriptori obiicitur, quam potuit utrumque Baronio vere.’ 8 J. Prado and J. Bautista Villalpando, In Ezechielem explanationes et apparatus urbis, ac Templi Hierosolymitani commentariis et imaginibus illustratus opus, Rome, 1596–1605. 9 This discussion is derived from J. Rykwert, On Adam’s House in Paradise: The Idea of the Primitive Hut in Architectural History, New York, 1972, pp. 121–6. 10 The English translations of Josephus and Whiston, in particular, were the subject of the seminars given by Mordechai Feingold and Tessa Rajak. 170 M. Goodman, J. Weinberg 123 its scope as a representation of the rich findings of the Oxford seminar, let alone the topic as a whole. Our purpose has been to highlight some of the exemplary moments of Josephus’s reception ‘according to the manner of the receiver’ (Summa Theologiae 1a, q. 75, a. 5). The Reception of Josephus in the Early Modern Period 171 123 The Reception of Josephus in the Early Modern Period 
work_kblizdku7fa3hfisw4vg7dtwsu	----	INDEX A 'Abd al-Latif al-Baghdadi, 310 Abercrombie, John, 178 Aberdeen University, Scotland, 7 Abraham, 381 Ackerknecht, Erwin H., 250-255, 319, 406 Ackroyd, W. R., 412-413 Acland, Sir Henry Wentworth, 261, 262-266, 267, 269, 270 Adair, James Makittrick, 364, 366 Admiralty Regulations of Peter the Great (1722), 129-146 Advertisements for patent medicines in eighteenth- century Bath newspapers, 352-369 Aetius ofAmida, 311 Ahitophel, 384 Aitken, A. J., 287n Akiba, rabbi, 386 Al-Ba'labakki, 311 Al-Bayyasi, 310 Al-Birini, 310-311 Al-Dakhwar, 310 Al-Khuwayyi al-Baghd&di, 310 Albinus, 409 Albucasis, 404 Alcmaeon, 204 Alden, J., 356 Alexander, J. T., 129n Alford, Francis, 242, 243, 244 Alford, Mrs. Francis, see Augustine, Mrs. Agnes Alford, Roger, 242n, 244 'All Ibn'rsa, 311 Alison, William Pulteney, 263 Allbutt, Sir Thomas Clifford, 163, 165-166, 167 Allen, Thomas, 256, 258-262, 266 Alston, Sir Edward, 118 American Association for the Advancement of Science, 414 American Association for the History of Medicine, 201 American Historical Association, 201 Ammi, rabbi, 380 Amnon, 384 Anatomical illustration, 409 Anatomy, teaching, 1-19 Anderson, Michael, 413 Anderson, Robert, 354, 360 Anderson, T. F., 64 Andree, John sr., 87 Andree, John, Essay on gonorrhoea (2nd ed., 1781), 87-90 Andrewes, C. H., 59 Andriewsky, P., 57-58 Angina pectoris, 158-171 Anglo-Saxon, see Paget's disease Anson, Lord, 344 Anstey, Christopher, 365 ar-Ruhiwi, 96 Arabian medicine: a special research project on sources of medieval Arabian medicine, 95-96; The Arabian Nights, 422 423 Archer, William, 358 Archibald, Sir R. G., 273-274 Archigenes, 311 Arctic: Rae of the Arctic, 176-193 Aries, Philippe, 317 Aristotle, 4, 5, 6, 7, 9, 17, 100, 204, 299n, 311 Armadale, Lord, see Honeyman, Sir William Army Medical Department, 98-99 Arnold, P. F., 370 Arnolfini, Giovanni, 241, 245n, 249 Arnolfini, Paolo, 241, 245n, 249 Arnolfini, Pietro, 249 Arrington, G. E. Jr., 147n, 156n Arris, Edward, alderman, 11 Artelt, W., 318 Arteriosclerosis, 418 Arundell, Thomas, 220 Asaph the physician, 376 Ascoli, David, 420-421 Ashi, Rav, 379 Ashmole, Elias, 109, 112n Ashmolean Society of Oxford, 258-261 Aspremont, R. d', 239n Association of General Practitioners (1886), 47 Astraea, 410-411 Astrology, 211 Astruc, J., 88 Atkins, Sir Hedley, 420 Aubrey, John, 10, 124n Augustine de Augustinis [Dr. Augustine], physician to Cardinal Wolsey and King Henry VIII, 215-249 Augustine, Mrs. Agnes, 237, 242, 243, 244, 246, 248 Augustine, Alexander, 237, 243, 244, 246, 247, 248 Augustine, Mrs. Alexander, 243 Augustine, Aloise, 246, 247, 248 Augustine, Cassandro, 248 Augustine, Cecelia, 246 Augustine, Elizabeth, 237, 243n Augustine, Julius, 237, 243, 246, 247, 248 Augustine, Livia Elena, 237, 241n, 243, 244-245, 246, 247 Augustine, Lucia, 246 Augustine, Paolo, 246, 247, 248 Augustine, Piero, 246, 247 Augustus Frederick, duke ofSussex, 77 Authenrieth, J. H. F., 322n Aveling, J. H., 123n Avery, 0. T., 62-63 Ayala, F. J., 311 B Baas, J. Hermann, 106 Baber, John, 123n Babinski, J. F. F., 197 Bacon, Francis, Ist baron Verulam, 31, 303 Baglivi, Giorgio, 206 Baillie, Matthew, 213 Baillie, Robert, 7 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Balaguer Periguell, Emilio, 103 Balfour, Sir Andrew, 271-273 Ballantyne, R. M., 181, 192 Ballingall, George, 178 Bally, J., 360 Bally, M., 360 Bally, William, 360 Balthasar, Dr. [Balthasar Quersiel, 217 Bang, F. B., 62 Banks, Abraham, 37, 40, 41, 48 BArany, Robert, 197 Barber-Surgeons Company, London, 1, 11, 42 Bardi, Peter de, 229n Bamett, P. R., 1 lIn Baron, M., 372 Barrett, Joseph, 360 Barrett, Paul H,. 309 Barrow, Colonel J., 193 Bartholin, Caspar, 9, 10, 17, 18 Bartholomew Anglicus, 299 Bartholomew de Glanville, 299n Bartolomeo, Piero, 249 Barton, Richard Thomas, 36 Bassnett, Rev. Richard, 78, 83 Bate, George, 112,116, 125 Bates, Donald, 105 Bath, Somerset, 352-369 Bathurst, John, lOn, 112-113 Bathurst, Ralph, 116 Battaglia, S., 247n Batten, F. E., 198 Baudouin, M., 398 Bauhin, Caspar, 16 Bawden, J. C., 60 Baylie, John, 243 Bayley, Mary, 80 Bayoumi, A., 271-285 Beam, W., 272 Bean, J. M. W., 338n Beatson, David, 173 Beaumont, William, 405 Bechhold, H., 58 Beddoes, Thomas, 32 Beijerinck, M. W., 58 Belhomme, Jacques, 252-253 Belhomme, Jacques-Etienne, 253 Bell, Benjamin, 87, 88, 89 Bell, Charles, 209 BeU, John, 91 Bell, W. G., 335n Bellamy, F. A., 268 Bellamy, J., 161 Bellers, John, 26 Benet, William, 232n Benetti, Francesca Zen, 419 Bennett, Francis, 362 Bentley, Dr., 236 Bergel, Joseph, 377 Berger, Peter L., 49 Berkeley, G., 343 Berliner, Abraham, 377 Berliner, M., 56, 62 Bernard, Claude, 210, 403-404 Berry, B. M., 338n Bert, Paul, 210 Besredka, A., 55 Bett, W. R., 106 Index Bible, medicine in, 376-388 Bill, William, 389 Biology, history, 408-409; molecular, 402; philosophy: reduction and related problems, 311 Black, Samuel, 164 Blackmore, Edward, 83 Blackmore, Richard, 15 Blake, John B., 418 Blake, General Robert, 112 Blanco, Richard L., 411 Blane, Sir Gilbert, 348 Blomfield, J. C., 244n Blount, Charles, 244n Blount, Michael, 244n Blount, Mrs. Michael, 244n, 245 Blount, Sir Richard, 244n, 245 Blount, Thomas, 244n Blythe, Alexander, 390 Boddely, T., 357-358 Boerhaave, Herman, 24, 29, 30 Boleyn, Anne, 2nd queen of Henry VIII, 217, 221, 223, 227, 234, 235 Bonnafous-Serieux, H., 251 Bonner, Edmund, 219, 222 Bonvisi, Antonio, 240, 246, 247, 248 Bonvisi, Benedetto, 249 Bonvisi, Ludovico, 240, 247 Bonvisi, Martino, 249 Book Reviews and Notices: Ackerknecht, E. H., Therapeutics from the primitives to the twentieth century, 1973, 319; Ackroyd, W. R., The conquest of famine, 1974, 412-413; Anderson, M., Family structure in nineteenth-century Lancashire, 1974, 413; Aries, P., Western attitudes toward death from the middle ages to the present, 1974, 317; Ascoli, D., A village in Chelsea. An informal account of the Royal Hospital, 1974, 420-421; Atkins, Sir H., Down. The home of the Darwins, 1974, 420; Ayala, F. J., and Dobzhansky, T. (eds.), Studies in the philosophy of biology. Reduction and related problems, 1974, 311; Baas, J. H., Outlines of the history of medicine and the medical profession, [1889], trans. rev. and enl. by H. E. Handerson, 1971, 106; Balaguer Perigiiell, E., La introducidn del modelo flsico-matemdtico en la medicina moderna, 1974, 103; Bernard, Claude, Lectures on thephenomena of life common to animals and plants, vol. 1 of translation by Hebbel E. Hoff et al., 1974, 210; Blanco, R. L., Wellington's Surgeon General: Sir James McGrigor, 1974, 411; Borovicz6ny, K. C. von, Schipperges, H., and Seidler, E. (eds.), Einfuhrung in die Geschichte der Haematologie, 1974, 207; Brandenburg, D., Medizinisches in tausendundeiner Nacht, 1973, 422; Brody, S. N., The disease of the soul. Leprosy in medieval literature, 1974, 208; Burns, C. R., and Engelhardt, H. T. Jr. (eds)., The humanities and medicine, 1-974, 213; Campbell, L. C., Two hundredyears ofpharmacy in Mississippi, 1974, 420; Cantlie, Sir Neil, A history of the Army Medical Department, 1974, 98-99; Collier, R., The plague of the Spanish Lady. The influenza pandemic of 1918-1919, 1974, 209-210; Cowen, D. L., The spread and Influence of British pharmacopoeial and related 424 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index literature, 1974, 420; Cranefield, P. F., The way in and the way out. Franfois Magendie, Charles Bell and the roots of the spinal nerves, 1974, 209; Davis, A. B., Circulation physiology and medical chemistry in England 165S0-1680, 1973, 203; Day, S. B., Tuluak and Amaulik: dialogues on death and mourning with the Inuit Eskimo of Point Barrow and Wainwright, Alaska, 1973, 105; Doherty, T., The anatomical works of George Stubbs, 1974, 409; Doob, P. B. R., Nebuchadnezzar's children. Conventions of mad- ness in Middle English literature, 1974, 208; Douglas, Hugh, Burke and Hare. The true story, 1973, 421; Dudley, E., and Novak, M. E. (eds.), The wild man within. An image in Western thought from the Renaissance to Romanticism, 1972, 407; Durey, M., The first spasmodic cholera epidemic in York, 1832, 1974, 212; Elkana, Y., The discovery of the conservation of energy, 1974, 419; Forbes, T. R., Chronickfrom Aldgate: life and death in Shakespeare's London, 1971, 312; Forrest, D. W., Francis Galton; the life and work of a Victorian genius, 1974, 314- 315; Foucault, M., The birth of the clinic. An archaeology of medical perception, 1973, 405- 406; Fyfe, C., Africanus Horton (1839-1883), West African scientist and patriot, 1972, 102; Gasman, D., The scientific origins of national socialism. Social Darwinism in Ernst Haeckel and the German Monist League, 1971, 406; Gauquelin, M., Cosmic influences on human behaviour, 1974, 211; Goran, M., Science and anti-science, 1974, 414; Granjel, L. S., La frenologia en Espaflia (vida y obra de Mariano Cubi), 1973, 102; Granjel, L. S., Publicad terapeutica en la Espafia de "entreguerras", 1974, 102; Grant, E. (ed.), A source book in medieval science, 1974, 404; Gruber, H. E., Darwin on man. A psychological study of scientific creativity, 1974, 309; Gulick, E. V., Peter Parker and the opening of China, 1973, 320; Haining, P. (ed.), The witchcraft papers. Con- temporary of the witchcraft hysteria in Essex 1560-1700, 1974, 320; Haller, J. S. jr., and Haller, R. M., The physician and sexuality in Victorian America, 1974, 209; Hamamehb, S. K., The physician, therapist and surgeon Ibn al-Quff (1233-1286), 1974, 310-311; Harig, G., Bestim- mung der Intensitat im medizinischen System Galens, 1974, 104; Harris, C. R. S., The heart and the vascular system in ancient Greek medi- cine. From Alcmaeon to Galen, 1973, 204; Hill, C., Change and continuity in seventeenth century England, 1974, 319; Hodgkinson, Ruth G., Science and public health, 1973, 206; Hofer, H. U., Die Arteriosklerose in der pathologischen Anatomie des 19. Jahrhunderts, 1974, 418; Holmes, F. L., Claude Bernard and animal chemistry. The emergence of a scientist, 1974, 403404; Holmes, R., Witchcraft in British history, 1974, 412; Hughes, W. H., Alexander Fleming andpenicillin, 1974,422; Hunter, R. and Macalpine, I., Psychiatry of the poor. 1851 Colney Hatch Asylum. Friern Hospital 1973. A medical and social history, 1974, 207; Jaki, S. L., Science and creation. From eternal cycles to an oscillating universe, 1974, 317; Kargon, 425 R. H. (ed.), The maturing of American science, 1974, 414; Koelbing, H. M., Im Kampf gegen Pocken, Syphilis. Das Leben von Edward Jenner, Louis Pasteur, Paul Ehrlich, 1974, 316; Koelbing, H. M. (ed.), Carl August Wunderlich, Wien und Paris. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte und Beurteilung der gegenwartigen Heilkunde in Deutschland und Franckreich, 1841, 1974, 205; Kollesch, J., Untersuchungen zu den pseudo- galenischen Definitiones Medicae, 1973, 104; Krantz, J. C. jr., Historical medical classics involving new drugs, 1974, 405; Large, D. and Round, F., Public health in mid-Victorian Bristol, 1974, 317; Leicester, H. M., Develop- ment of biochemical concepts from ancient to modern times, 1974, 416; Lesky, E. (ed.), Wien und die Weltmedizin, 1974, 412; Lindeboom, G. A., Florentius Schuyl (1619-1669). Ein zijn betekenis voor het Cartesianisme in de genees- kunde, 1974, 417; Lopez Pifiero, J. M., Peset Reig, M. and Garcia Ballester, L., Bibliografia hist6rica sobre la ciencia y la tecnica en Espafia, 1973, 103; McGovern, J. P. and Burns, C. R., Humanism in medicine, 1973, 105; Malson, L. and Itard, J., Wolf children. The wild boy of Aveyron, 1972, 407-408; Mannoni, O., Freud. The theory ofthe unconscious, 1971, 419; Marks, J., The treatment of Parkinsonism with 1-dopa, 1974, 100; Meade, R. H., In the sunshine of life. A biography of Dr. Richard Mead, 1673-1754 1974, 413; Merlin, M. D., Man and marijuana. Some aspects of their ancient relationship, 1972, 214; Mortimer, P. A., Only when it hurts, 1974, 417; Newton, S. M.. Health, art and reason. Dress reformers of the nineteenth century, 1974, 318; Nielsen, H., Ancient opthalmological agents, 1974, 106; Noble, W. C., Coli: great healer of men. The biography of Dr. Leonard Colebrook, F.R.S., 1974, 103; Olby, R., The path to the double helix, 1974, 402; Pazzini, A., Storia dell'arte sanitaria dalle origini a oggi, 1974, 105; Pickering, Sir George, Creative malady. Illness in the lives and minds of Charles Darwin, Florence Nightingale, Mary Baker Eddy, Sigmund Freud, Marcel Proust, Elizabeth Barrett Browning, 1974, 313; Quaderni per la Storiadell'Universit&i diPadova, 1968-1973,419; Reid, R., Microbes and men, 1974, 414; Ren- bourn, E. T., Materials and clothing in health and disease, 1972, 315; Richardson, F., Napoleon's death. An inquest, 1974, 315-316; Rosen, G., From medical police to social medicine. Essays on the history of health care, 1974, 210; Said, H. M. and Elahie, R. E. (eds.), Al-Biruni's book on pharmacy and materia medica, 1973, 310-311; Schuler, G., Der Basler Irrenarzt Friedrich Brenner 1809-1874, 1974, 213-214; Schrenk, M., Ober den Umgang mit Geisteskranken, 1973, 417; Schullian, D. M. (ed.), The Baglivi correspondence from the library of Sir William Osler, 1974, 206; Sells, A. L., Oliver Goldsmith. His life and works, 1974, 409-410; Sherrington, Sir Charles, The en- deavour of Jean Fernel with a list of the editions ofhis writings [1946], reprinted 1974, 104; Siegel, R. E., Galen on psychology, psychopathology, and function and diseases of the nervous system, at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index 1973, 99-100; Siraisi, N. G., Arts and sciences at Padua. The "studium" of Padua before 1350, 1973, 415; Smellie, W., A treatise on the theory of midwifery [1752], reprint 1974, 415; Smit, P., History of the life sciences. An annotated bibliography, 1974, 408-409; Smith, W. D., Stretching their bodies. The history of physical education, 1974, 211; Snowman, J., A short history of Talmudic medicine, 1974, 418; Sorsby, A. (ed.), Tenements of clay. An anthology of medical biographical essays, 1974, 318; Sprigge, S. Squire, The life and times of Tlwmas Wakley [facsimile], 1974, 101; Tait, H. P., A doctor and two policemen. The history of Edinburgh Health Department, 1862-1874, 1974, 213; Tannahill, R., Food in history, 1973, 212; Temkin, O., Galenism. Rise and decline of a medical philoso- phy, 1973, 97; Thomson, A. L., Half a century of medical research, vol. 1, 1973, 421; Trbhler, U., Der Schweitzer Chirurg J. F. der Quervain (1868-1940), 1973, 415416; Turner, T. B., Heritage of excellence. The Johns Hopkins Medical Institutions, 1914-1947, 1974, 204-205; Virchow, R., Post-mortem examination and the position of pathology among biological studies (facsimile), 1973, 101; Webster, C. (ed.), The intellectual revolution of the seventeenth century, 1974, 202; Whorton, J., Before "Silent Spring". Pesticides andpublic health in pre-DDTAmerica, 1974, 416; Wilson, D. (ed.), French Renaissance scientific poetry, 1974, 212; Winslow, 0. E., A destroying angel. The conquest of smallpox in colonial Boston, 1974, 418; Woodward, J., To do the sick no harm. A study of the British voluntary hospital system to 1875, 1974, 313-314; Yates, F. A., Astraea. The imperial theme In the sixteenth century, 1975, 410-411 ; Zuppinger, H., Albert K6lliker (1817-1905) und die mlkro- skopische Anatomie, 1974, 316. Bordet, J. J. B. P., 57 Borelli, Giovanni Alfonso, 103 Boring, E. G., 153 Borovicz6ny, K. C. von. 207 Borrel, A., 55, 67 Bousfield, Guy W. J., 167 Bousfield, L., 273 Boyle, Robert, 203, 303-304 Boylston, Zabdiel, 418 Brain, Sir Russell [Lord Brain], 393n Bramwell, Mary, 82 Brandenburg, Dietrich, 422 Brandon, Charles, Ist duke of Suffolk, 221 Breathnach, C. S.. 194-200 Brenner, Friedrich, 213-214 Breteuil, comte de, 252 Brett-James, Norman, 337n, 340n Brewer, J. S., 215n, 219n, 221n, 226n Bridson, G., 96 Brieger, Gert, 201 Brigham, William, 75, 76 Brissot de Warville, Jean-Pierre, 250 British Medical Association, 37, 321 Brocket, Sir John, 244n Brodie, R. H., 215n Brodum, 357 Brody, Saul Nathaniel, 208 Brooke, N., 357 426 Brookes, Richard, 25 Brown, A. F. J., 340n Brown, Carleton, 302n Brown, J., 361 Brown, John, 148 Brown, P. S., 352-369 Brown, Rawdon, 216n Brown, Theodore M., 107n Browne, Edward, 19 Browne, Sir George Buckston, 420 Browne, Sir James Crichton, 174 Browne, Sir Thomas, 198 Browne, Sir William, 18 Browning, Elizabeth Barrett, 313 Bryant, Sir Arthur, 98 Buchan, William, Domestic medicine (1769), 203-5, 361 Buckland, William, 260, 261 Budd, George, 348, 349 Budd, William, 264, 270 Birgel, J. C., 96 Buffon, G. L. C., 21, 410 Bul John, 360 Bull, Lewis, 360, 361 Burgess, Renate, 91-94 Burke, William, 421 Burley, K. H., 335n, 336n, 339n, 340n Burn, William, 173 Burnet, F. M., 59, 61, 63 Burnett, James, Lord Monboddo, 21 Burns, Allan, 164 Burns, Chester R., 105, 213 Burns, Robert, 21 Burrows, George, 165 Burton, Alexander, 16 Burton, John, 409 Burton, T. L., 286-302 Butler, Josephine, 314 Butter, William, 166 Butts, Sir William, 217, 218, 236, 238, 390 C Caius, John, 1, 11, 12, 238, 391 Cajal, see Ramon y Cajal, S. Caldwell, Richard, 12 Cambridge University: anatomy curriculum, 1-2, 8, 11; David Edwardes' activities, 389-392 Campbell, Hugh, 3rd earl ofLoudoun, 91 Campbell, J., 359, 360 Campbell, Leslie Caine, 420 Campeggio, Lorenzo, cardinal, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234 Cantlie, Sir Neil, 98-99 Capp, Benard, 202 Carlebach, Joseph, rabbi, 377-378 Carmoly, E., 377 Carr-Saunders, A. M., 37, 38, 51 Carrel, A., 62 Carson, Ruth, 416 Casale, Gregory, 232n Cassl, David, 377 Casseli, Dr., 115 Catcher, Richard, 1 On Catherine of Aragon, 1st queen of Henry VIII, 217n, 219, 225, 227, 228n, 234, 235 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Catherine II [Catherine the Great], empress of Russia, 32 Cattell, R.B., 414 Cavalcante, Margarita, 245 Cavalcante, Schiatta, 245 Cavalcante, Tommaso, 248 Cavendish, Sir Charles, 120-121 Cavendish, George, 217, 221-222, 241 Cavendish, Margaret, 117, 118n Cavendish, William, 1st duke of Newcastle-on- Tyne, 120-121 Celsus, 3 Centanni, E., 52, 53, 54, 56, 57, 61, 65 Cerebellum: disease, 195, 196; injury, 196, 197 Cerletti, U., 373 Chadwick, Edwin, 259 Chadwick, John, 296n, 302n Chain, Sir Ernst Boris, 405, 422 Chalklin, C. W., 340n Challice, C. E., 56 Chalmers, A. J., 273 Chamberlain, Peter, 1 1On, 123 Chambers, J. D., 338n Chambers, W. D., 174 Chambre, John, 216n, 238 Champion, Richard, 243 Chapuis, Eustace, 218, 219, 221, 223-224, 225-226, 229n, 233, 234, 235, 238, 241 Charcot, Jean-Martin, 158, 166 Charles I, 126, 127 Charles I;, 116n, 168, 421 Charles V, Holy Roman emperor, 216,221,225, 226, 227, 228, 229, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 238, 242 Charles V, king ofFrance, 410 Charleton, Walter, 19, 108, 113-118, 123, 125, 126, 127n, 128, 203 Chartier, Rene, 104 Chase, M., 62-63, 64 Chatelet, duchess of, 252 Chaucer, Geoffrey, 286n, 300-301 Chauveau, J. B. A., 395 Cheselden, William, 308 Chesney, Alan M., 204 Cheyne, George, 25, 26, 29, 34 China, 320; Thomas Garvine-Ayrshire surgeon active in U.S.S.R. and China, 91-94 Chodruc-Duclos, Emile, 253 Choiseul, duchess of, 252 Cholera, 212, 256-270 Christison, Robert, 178 Christopherson, J. B., 273 Clanny, W. Reid, 261 Clark, Sir George, 44, 107, 127 Clark, Peter, 340n Clarke, Edwin, 112n, 322n Clarke, Edwin (revs.), 313-314, 405 Clarke, John, 110n Clayton, Sir Thomas, 18 Clement VII, Pope [Giulio de'Medicil, 233n Clement, John, 217n, 218, 238 Clinch, 361 Clinical medicine, 405-406 Cloriviere, Pierre-Joseph Picot de la, 253 Clothing in health and disease, 315, 318 Clouston, Sir Thomas, 371 Cockburn, Aiden, 201 Cockburn, Eve, 201 427 Colchester, Essex, 333-341 Colebrook, Leonard, 103 Coleman, D. C., 339n Collett, Elizabeth, 360 Collier, Richard, 209-210 Collins, Samuel, 113n, 116 Combe, G., 199 Compagni, Dino, 245 Comrie, John D., 176, 401 Comte, J. A., 213 Conklin, Edwin Grant, 414 Connors, Dr., 14 Conradt, I., 304 Conway, Edward, 243 Conway, Mrs. Edward, 243 Conway, Margaret, see Augustine, Mrs. Alexander Cook, Thomas, 347, 348, 349 Cooke, Alan, 177 Cooke, C., 83 Coombs, Carey F., 167 Cooper, J. P., 341n Cope, Sir Vincent Zachary [obituary], 307-308 Copemicus, 7, 415 Copino, Giovanni Francesco, 246, 247 Copino, Raffaello, 246 Corfield, Penelope, 340n Cornwell, B., 28-29 Corrigal, John, 188 Corrigan, Sir Dominic J., 167 Corsellis, Nicholas, 341 Corvisart, Jean N., baron, 165 Cowen, David L., 108n, 420 Cox, D., 360 Coxe, Thomas, 112, 116, 124, 125 Crabbe, George, 365 Craig, W. J., 302n Craigie, W. A., 287n Cranefield, Paul F., 209 Cranmer, Thomas, archbishop ofCanterbury, 228n, 229, 232 Craufurd, Thomas, 16 Crawfurd, Raymond, 410 Crombe, A., 318 Cromer, Walter, 217, 218, 226, 238 Cromwell, Henry, 121, 125, 126 Cromwell, Oliver, the Protector, 111, 112, 113, 119, 124, 125, 126, 127 Cromwell, Richard, 126n Cromwell, Thomas, earl of Essex, 215, 217, 218- 219, 220, 228, 229, 230, 231, 232, 233, 234, 235, 236, 237, 241 Cross, Mary Ann, 314 Crow, Miss K. E. (rev.), 98-99 Cruttwell, Richard, 358, 362 Cruttwell, Richardjr., 358, 359 Cryobiology: John Hunter: pioneer of freeze- fracture, 303-306 Cubbitt, Sir William, 260 Cube y Soler, Mariano, 102 Cullen, William, 21, 24, 25, 161 Culpeper, Nicholas, 108, 319 Cunningham, Andrew, 1-19 Cunningham, Andrew (rev.), 202 Currie, Sir James, 272 Curtius, Matthew, 4, 5, 15 Cutler, John L., 302n Cyriax, R. J., 176 H at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index D Dacre, Lord, 234 Dalby, Joseph, 364 Darwin, Charles, 309, 313, 314, 420 Daubney, Charles, 260-261, 269 Davidson, George, 188 Davidson, Nicol, 102 Davies, C. S. L., 95 Davies, Martha, 83 Davies, Peter, 340 Davis, Audrey B., 96, 203, 213 Davy, Sir Humphry, 419 Day, Stacey B., 105 De la So [de la Soo, Delasco], Michael, 236 De Vaux, see Joachim de Passano, Sieur de Vaux De Vely, see Dodieu, Claude, Sieur de Vely Dean, W. G. T., 420 Dease, Peter, 180, 183 Death, Western attitudes towards, 317 Debus, Allen G., 109n Defoe, D., 340 Deiters, O., 370 del Rio Hortega, P., 372, 373 Denham, Dr., 121n Denninger, H. S., 399 Denny-Brown, D., 393 Deodati, Alessandro, 249 Deodati, Michele, 249 Deoxyribonucleic acid (DNA), 62, 63-64, 402 Derby, earl of, see Stanley, James Descartes, Ren6, 343, 417 Devereux, Robert, 3rd earl of Essex, 113, 125 Dewhurst, Kenneth, 15 Di Pietro, Pericle, 419 Diderot, Denis, 250 Dingley, 360 Diodati, Theodore, 1 1On Dioscorides, 311 Dobzhansky, T., 311 Dock, George, 167-168 Dodieu, Claude, Sieur de Vely, 215, 216-217, 233 Doerr, R., 59, 60, 61, 68, 69 Doherty, Terence, 409 Domestic medicine (1769), see Buchan, WiUiam Doob, Penelope B. R., 208 Doolittle, I. G., 333-341 Dorchester, marquis of, see Pierrepoint, Henry Dorighello, A. F., 216n Douglas, Hugh, 421 Dover, Thomas, 15 Down House, Orpington, Kent, 420 Du Bois Reymond, E., 155 Dubuisson, C. H. Jacquelin, 253 Dubuisson, Jean-Baptiste Remy-Jacquelin, 253 Dudley, Edward, 407 Dukes, Leopold, 377 Dulbecco, R., 62 Dumas, Jean Baptiste Andr6, 403 Dunbar, 295n Dunkin, John, 244n Dureau-Lapeyssonerie, J.-M., 104 Durey, M., 212 E Eastwick, alderman, 110 428 Eaton, Laurence, 244n, 245 Ebbecke, U., 157n Ebstein, Wilhelm, 376, 377 Eccles, Sir John Carew, 311, 393 Eddy, Mary Baker, 313 Edelstein, Ludwig, 36 Edinburgh, Scotland: Health Department, 213; Protestant College, 7; Royal College of Physi- cians, 21; University, 8, 21, 23 Edinger, Ludwig, 194, 197, 198 Education, medical: Johann Christian Reil's training scheme for medical auxiliaries, 321-332; see also anatomy Edward, 174 Edward VI, 242 Edward, prince [later Edward VI], 238 Edwardes, David: his activities at Cambridge, 389-392 Edwardes, Mrs. David, 390 Edward[e]s, John, 389-390, 391 Ehrlich, Paul, 198, 316 Elahie, R. E., 310-311 Elaut, Leon, 87-90 Eleazar, rabbi, 386 Electrocardiography, 158, 167 Elford, W. J., 58 Eliasson, Runi, 288n Eliot, George [pseud.], see Cross, Mary Ann Eliot, Sir Thomas, 227n, 228n, 229, 235 Elizabeth I, 12, 242, 410 Elkana, Yehuda, 419 Elliott, Katherine, 323n Energy, conservation, 419 Engelhardt, H. Tristram jr., 213 Ent, George, 116, 118, 119n Epidemiology, 256-270, 333-341 Erasistratus, 204 Erdman, Rhoda, 62 Erickson, R. P., 157n Erskine, Sir Charles, 91 Erskine, Sir John, 91 Erskine, Robert, 91, 93 Esenbeck, Nees von, 149 Eskimo medicine, 105 Esquirol, J. E. D., 253 Essen-Moeller, Elis, 322n Essex, earl of, see Cromwell, Thomas; Devereux, Robert; Ethics, medical, 36-51 Eulner, Hans-Heinz, 321n, 322n, 332 Eurich, F. W., 370 Evans, David, 361 Evelyn, John, 117n, 126 F Findrich, Harmut, 96 Fagnani, 248 Fairbrother, R. W., 64 Fairfax, General Sir Thomas, 112 Falier, Ludovico, 223 Falier, Sebastian, 216 Famine, 412-413 Fanshawe, Sir Richard, 113n Farley, Samuel, 358 Famese, cardinal, 232n Farr, William, 262, 263 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Farrell, E. G., 339n Fechner, Gustav Theodor, 150, 151, 155, 156 Fendall, Rex N. E., 321n Ferdinand I, Holy Roman emperor, 226 Ferguson, James, 21 Femel, Jean Frangois [Fernelius], 7, 9, 16, 104 Ferry, J. D., 61 Fichter, Johann Gottlieb, 325n Fielding, 360 Fielding, Henry, 365-366 Findlay, G. M., 275 Fisher, A. K., 399 Fisher, F. J., 341n Fisher, John, bishop of Rochester, 235 Fisher, Sir R. A., 394 Fitzmaurice, Lord Edmond, 120n Fitzwilliam, William, earl ofSouthampton, 238 Fleetwood, Charles, 121n, 125 Fleming, Sir Alexander, 103, 405, 422 Fletcher, James, 83 Flewett, T. H., 56 Flinn, M. W., 269 Florence, duke of, see Medici, Cosimo de' Florey, Howard Walter, Lord Florey, 405 Flourens, M. J. P., 199 Folbery, George, 226 Folk medicine, 27, 417 Forbes, Edward, 178 Forbes, Robert, 36 Forbes, T. R., 312 Forrest, D.W., 314-315 Fortescue, Sir John William, 98 Fortini, Bartolomeo, 248 Fortuine, R., 190 Foucault, Michel, 405-4 Foumier, Abbe Marie Nicolas, 251 Fowl plague, see virus diseases Fowl-pox, see virus diseases Fowler, Gabriel, 244n Fox, Stephen, 240 Fraizer, William, 1 On France: Admiralty Regulations of Louis XIV (1689), 142-145; Political prisoners in French mental institutions before 1789, during the Revolution, and under Napoleon I, 250-255 Francis I, king of France, 216 Frank, Johann Peter, 26, 322 Franklin Arctic Expedition, see Franklin, Sir John Franklin, Sir John, 176, 182, 183, 184, 185, 187, 192 Franklin, Lady, 187 Fraser, W., 48 Frederick, William, 360 Freeman, John, 391 Freeze-fracture: John Hunter: pioneer of, 303-306 French, R. K., 16 Freud, Sigmund, 313, 419 Frey, M. von, 156 Friedenwald, Harry, 379, 388 Fryer, John, 238 Fulton, John, 394 Fulton, Mrs. John, 394 Fyfe, Christopher, 102 G Gagarin, prince, see Koko-lin 429 Gainsborough, 359, 360 Gairdner, J., 215n, 217n, 236n, 239n, 241n Galen, 1, 3-4, 5-6, 9, 12, 13, 33, 97, 99-100, 104, 121n, 204, 212, 298, 311, 389, 418 Galilei, Galileo, 415 Gall, F. J., 196, 199 Gallego, A., 372 Galton, Francis, 314-315 Garcia Ballester, L., 103 Gardiner, Stephen, bishop of Winchester, 217, 230 Gardner, John, 357 Garrett, A. E., 318 Garrison, Fielding H., 205 Garside, B., 337n Garvine, Thomas, 91-94 Gasman, Daniel, 406 Gattinara, Mercurio, 227 Gaubert, H., 254, 255 Gauquelin, Michel, 211 Geiger, Abraham, 377 Geraldi, John [Gerardi, Giovanni], 241, 248, 249 Geramb, Ferdinand de, 253 German Monist League, 406 Gey, G. O., 62 Ghinucci, Andreas, 233n Ghinucci, Girolamo, 216, 232n, 233n, 234 Gibbons, Thomas, 361 Giemsa, G., 55, 67 Gintzburger, B. W., 376 Girmte, Bar, 380 Giunta, Gianmaria, 247, 248 Giunta, Tommaso, 247, 248 Glasgow University, Scotland, 6-7, 8 Glass, Bentley, 414 Glass, D. V., 334n Glisson, Francis, 8-9, 118, 125, 203 Godbold, N., 353, 354 Goddard, Jonathan, 111, 116, 117, 123, 125 Godfray, Thomas, 286n Goerke, Heinz, 321n Goethe, J. W. von, 148, 149, 150, 323n, 394 Goldschmidt, Felix, 378 Goldsmith, Dr., 121n Goldsmith, Oliver, 359, 365, 409-410 Goldstone, John, 363 Golgi, C., 370 Gonorrhoea, see venereal diseases Goodfield, June, 311 Goodpasture, E. W., 57, 61 Goodrick, Rev., 353-354 Goodsir, John, 178 Goran, Morris, 414 Gordon, H. L., 379 Gordon, Robert, 94 Gore, Montague, 98 Grace, F. R., 338n Graetz, Heinrich, 377 Graf, 0. M., 255 Granjel, Luis S., 102 Grant, Edward, 404 Granvelle, Lord, see Perronet, Nicholas Graunt, John, 124, 340n Gray, S. F., 356, 357 Greene, Anne, 121n Greenhill, W. A., 258-262, 266 Greenough, Thomas, 364 Gregg, Alan, 205 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Gregory, John, 21, 23, 24, 25 Gregory, Johnjr., 21 Gresham College, London, 13 Gruber, F., 52 Gruber, Howard E., 309 Guedemann, Moritz, 377 Guidal, General, Maximilien-Joseph, 253 Gullemin, Lucienne, 210 Guillemin, Roger, 210 Gulick, Edward V., 320 Guthrie, Douglas Janes [obituary], 400-401 Guthrie, Rev. WiUiam, 400 Guy de Chauliac, 11, 300 Gwei-Djen, Lu, 92 H Haberling, W., 149n Haeckel, Ernst, 406 Haematology, 207 Haeser, Heinrich, 377 Haigh, Basil, 129-146 Hining, Peter, 320 Halberstadt, Martha Rachel, see Preuss, Mrs. Julius Hall, Joseph, 299n Hall, Marshall, 165 Hallauer, C., 62 Haller, Albrecht von, 25, 27, 148n, 149 Haller, John S. Jr., 209 Haller, Robin M., 209 Halsted, W. S., 105 Hama.rneh, Sami K., 310-311 Hamey, Baldwin, 116 Hamilton, George L., 299n Hammond, 353 Hammond, E. A., 215-249 Handerson, H. E., 106 Harben, Henry A., 223n Hardesty, I., 370 Hare, Ronald, 61, 63, 405 Hare, William, 421 Hargrave, Letitia, 188-189, 192 Hang, Georg, 104 Harrington, James, 202 Harris, Sir Arthur, 394n Harris, C. R. S., 204 Harrydance, Thomas, 312 Hartlib, Samuel, 122, 124 Hartmann, Eduard von, 151 Harvell, Edmund, 239-240 Harvey, A. P., 96 Harvey, William, 10, 11, 17, 18, 103, 109, 114, 116n, 118, 126, 202, 203, 309, 415 Haseeb, M. A., 277-278, 280 Hawes, William, 363 Hawkins, Nicholas, archdeacon of Ely, 232, 233, 234 Hayden, William, 363 Hazard, Samuel, 361 Head, Henry, 194, 197,199 Heart: in ancient Greek medicine, 204; disease, 158-171 Heberden, William, 158-171 Heberden-Parry controversy, resolution of, 158- 171 430 Hegel, Georg Wilhelm Friedrich, 152 Held, H., 370 Heller, Robert, 321-332 Helmholtz, H. L. F. von, 148, 153, 156, 419 Henle, Jacob, 153 Hennin, Wilhelm, 146 Henry VIII, 215-249 Henschel, A. W. E. T., 377 Hensley, John, 360 Herbart, Johann Friedrich, 151-152 Herder, Johann Gottfried von, 323n Herrick, J. B., 167 Hershey, A. D., 62-63, 64 Hess, A. F., 349 Heuertz, Marcel, 399 Hewer, Thomas Frederick, 275 Hewitt, Charles, 356-357 Hezekiah, king of Israel, 383 Hildesheimer, rabbi, 378 Hill, A. V., 394 Hill, Christopher, 202, 319 Hill, Sir John, 358, 360, 365 Hill, John, 83 Hill, R., 274 Hippocrates, 2, 7, 9, 13, 104, 121n, 204, 206, 298, 311 Hippocratic Oath, 36 Hirschel, B., 148n Hirst, G. K., 61, 63 Historians' medical information bureau, 95 Hitchings, surgeon, 264 Hitler, Adolf, 406 Hobbes, Thomas, 117, 118n Hockliffe, E., 340n Hodges, Nathaniel, 337n, 341n Hodgkinson, Ruth G., 206 Hofer, Hans Ulrich, 418 Hoff, Hebbel, E., 210 Hoggar, R. S., 261 Holland, William, 391 Hollingsworth, Mary F., 338n, 341n Hollingsworth, T. H., 338n, 341n Holloway, S. W. F., 50 Holmes, Frederick Lawrence, 403-404 Holmes, Sir Gordon Morgn, 194-200 Holmes, Ronald, 412 Holmstedt, B., 405 Holt, Charles, 83 Holt, David, 76, 77, 78, 83 Holub, J., 377 Home, Francis, 29 Home, Henry, Lord Kames, 21 Honeyman, Sir William, Lord Armadae, 177 Hooper, Robert, 327n Hope, T. C., 177 Hope, William, 173 Hopkins, Sir Frederick Gowland, 191 Horgan, E. S., 274, 275 Horn, D. B., 16 Horton, Janms Beale Africanus, 102 Horton, Thomas, 363 Hospitals: British voluntary hospital system to 1875, 313-314; French naval hospitals, 143-145; Manchester and Salford Lock Hospital, 1818- 1917, 73-86; Royal Hospital, Chelsea, 420-21; Russian naval hospitals, 133-142; teaching hospitals, 405-406 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Hospitals, psychiatric, 417; Colney Hatch Asylum, London, 207; French mental institutions, 250-255; Friern Hospital, London, 207; Murray Royal Hospital, Perth, Scotland, 172-174; Murthly Hospital, Perth, Scotland, 174 Hotchin, J. E., 62 Howard, Henry, earl of Surrey, 239, 240 Howard, Thomas I1, earl ofSurrey and 3rd duke of Norfolk, 217, 220, 221, 223, 224, 225, 226, 227, 228, 230, 233n, 234, 235, 238-239, 240 Howard, William, 1st baron Howard ofEffingham, 239 Howe, Thomas, 364 Howson, W. G., 337n Hoyle, Leslie, 63, 64 lIubaysh, 311 Hudson's Bay Company, 176, 177, 178, 179, 180, 182, 183, 184, 186, 187-188, 191, 193 Hufeland, Christoph Wilhelm, 322n, 323-324, 329, 330-331, 332 Hugh of Campdene, 286n Hughes, R. E., 342-351 Huicke, Robert, 238 Hume, David, 21 ljunayn, 104, 311 Hunter, John, 87, 88, 89, 158, 164, 168, 303-306, 409 Hunter, John: pioneer of freeze-fracture, 303-306 Hunter, Richard, 207 Hunter, William, 409 Hutchinson, J., 396 Huxham, John, 29, 30, 31 Huxley, Thomas Henry, 267 Hynek, J. Allen, 211 Ibn Abi Uaybi'a, 310 Ibm al-Matran, 310 Ibn al-Nafis, 311 Ibn al-Quff, 310-311 Ibn Hindu, 96 Ibn Jumay', 96 Influenza, see virus diseases Information required: "mumfergo" pills, 96; natural history manuscript resources of the British Isles, 96; trade catalogues, 96 Innes-Smith, R. W., 120n International Society for the History of Behavioral and Social Sciences, 95 Ischaemic heart disease, 158, 159, 160, 165, 167- 168 Iskandar, A. Z. (rev.), 310-311 Itard, Jean, 407-408 J Jackson, Elizabeth, 80 Jackson, John Hughlings, 197 Jacob, F., 64 Jacobs, Henry Barton, 205 Jacquot, J., 121n Jaeger, G., 318 Jaffe, Henry L., 399 Jaki, Stanley L., 317 431 James's Powders, 363, 365, 410 Jarrow Monastery, Durham, 396-400 Jeffreys, John, 359 Jenkins, 112n Jenner, Edward, 158, 161, 162, 163, 164, 167, 316 Jeremy, Sir John, 239n Jewish medicine, 376-388 Joachim de Passano, Jean, Sleur de Vaux, 216, 218, 221, 223 Job, 383 John, apothecary, 226 John of Gaddesden, 404 John de Trevisa, 299n Johns Hopkins Medical Institutions, Baltimore, U.S.A., 204-205 Johnson, J., 359 Johnson, John, 237n Johnson, Lent C., 399 Johnson, Manual, 263 Johnson, Otwell, 237n Johnson, Terence J., 37-38 Johnson, William, 109, 115n Johnston, John, 16 Johnston, J. A., 338n Jordan, Joseph, 75, 76, 83 Josselin, Rev. Ralph, 340n, 341n Josten, C. H., 109n K Kaiser, M., 67 Kames, Lord, see Home, Henry K'ang Hsi, emperor of China, 91, 92, 93, 94 Kant, Immanuel, 148, 151, 325n, 394 Kapferer, Richard, 204 Karbott, Dr., 220 Kargon, Robert H., 414 Kastner, Gottlob, 149 Kaufmann, David, 377 Kayserling, Mayer Moritz, 377 Keevil, J. J., llln, 116n, 123n Keill, James, 14, 19 Kelly, Emerson C., 205 Kelsey, Major-General Thomas, 124 Kelvin, 1st baron, see Thomson, William Kerr, R., 21, 22 Kesteven, W. B., 41, 47 Kett, J. F., 363 Keuffel, Gebhardus Georgius Theodorus, 370 Keynes, Sir Geoffrey, 120n Khartoum, see Sudan Kidd, John, 263 Kimber, Rev. Isaac, 92 King, Gregory, 334 King, H. H., 272 King, John, 117 King, Lester, 39-40 Kingston, Sir William, 222n, 224 Kirk, Robert, 275, 276-277 Kirkness, 183 Kirkpatrick, James, 27 Kite, V. J., 359-360, 361 Kleine, F. E., 56 Klibansky, Raymond, 288n, 296n, 297n, 299n Knox, Robert, 178, 421 Knyvet [Knevet], Robert, 236 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Koch, Robert, 271, 422 Kocher, E. T., 415 Kodicek, E., 348 Koelbing, H. M., 205, 316 Kolliker, Rudolph Albert von, 155, 316 Koko-lin [Prince Gagarin], governor of Tobolsk, 91, 92 Kollesch, Jutta, 104 Konradi, D., 53 Krantz, John C. jr., 405 Kruta, V., 148n KOhn, C. G., 104 Kramer, 344 Kuhn, Sherman M., 287n Kuhn, Thomas, 147,156 Kurath, Hans, 287n L Lafon, Abbd Jean-Baptiste-Hyacinthe, 253 Lahory, General V.-A. Fanneau de, 253 Lambert, John, 119, 123n Lambert, R., 269 Lancashire, 413 Lancaster, James, 344 Landsteiner, K., 56, 59, 61, 62 Lange, Lorenz, 92 Lange, Mile., 252 Lansdowne, marquis of, 121n, 122n Large, David, 317 Larousse, P., 92 Larrey, D. J., baron, 411 Laslett, P., 334n Latham, P. M., 165 Latude, Henry Masers de, 250-251, 254, 255 Laune, Paul de, 113 Lavater, Dr., 19 Lawley, Thomas, 239n Lawrence, C. J., 20-35 Laycock, Thomas, 45-46, 174 Le Bod, F. de, 417 Le Neve, J., 219n Leake, Chauncey D., 36, 39, 43 Leake, James, 360 Leblond, C. P., 372 Ledingham, J. C. G., 59 LeFanu, W. R., 307-308 Leibowitz, Joshua O., 377, 385 Leicester, Henry M., 416 Leigh, A., 80 Leiper, Robert Thomson, 273 Leprosy, 208, 418 Lesky, Erna, 412 Levine, D., 338n Lewis, D. J., 275, 276-277 Lewis, W. B., 370 Liebig, Justus von, 403 LilUestrand, A., 405 Linacre, Thomas, 216n, 238 Lind, James, 28, 34, 190, 342-351 Lind, James, and the cure of scurvy: an experi- mental approach, 342-351 Lindeboom, G. A., 120n, 417 Linden, G. W., 343 Lindevall, Probst Martin, 321n Ling, E. A., 372 432 Linguet, Simon Nicolas Henry, 252 Linnaeus, see Linn6, Carl von Linne, Carl von, 321 Lisle, John, 119 Lister, Joseph, Lord Lister, 313 Lister, Sir Matthew, 110 Liston, Robert, 178 Livesley, Brian, 158-171 Livingstone, David, 176 Lizars, John, 178 Lobstein, J. G. C. F. M., 418 Locke, John, 3 Lode, A., 52, 54-55 Loeb, Isidore, 377 Low, Immanuel, 378 Lowinger, Adolph, 380 Loggan, Thomas, 361 London: parish registers of St. Botolph without Aldgate (1558-1625), 312; see also Barber Surgeons Company; Gresham College; Royal College of Physicians; Royal College of Surgeons; Royal Society; Society of Apothe- caries Lopez, Martin, 247 Lopez Pifiero, J. M., 103 Lot, 384 Lotze, Rudolph Hermann, critique of Johannes Mfiller's doctrine of specific sense energies, 147-157 Loudoun, 3rd earl of, see Campbell, Hugh Louis XIV: Ordonnance pour les armees navales et arcgnaux de marine (1689), 142-145 Lower, Richard, 203 Lucretius, T., 117n Lumley, John, 1st baron Lumley, 12 Lush, D., 63 Lwoff, A., 64 Lydall, John. 10 Lynch, Bernard, 25, 27 Lyon, 80 Lysons, Dr., 364 M Macalpine, Ida, 207 Macbride, David, 28, 343 McCance, R. A., 347 McClelland, L., 61, 63 McConaghey, R. M. S., 36 Macfarlane, Alan, 412 Macfarlane, A. D. J., 338n McGovem, John P., 105 McGrew, R. E., 129n McGrigor, Sir James, 411 McKeag, A. J., 156n Mackenzie, Sir James, 167, 175 Mackenzie, James, 25 McMurrich, James Playfair, 414 MacNalty, Sir Arthur S., 217n, 238 Macpherson, C. B., 202 McTavish, J. G., 179 McVaugh, Michael, 104,404 Maegraith, B. G., 280 Magallotto, Galiotto, 247 Magendie, Francois, 148, 150, 199, 209 Maggiora, A., 52 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Magnus, P. von, 63 Mahaffy, A. F., 275-276 Maimonides, 386 Mair, Alexander, 172, 175 Malet, General Claude Francois de, 253, 254 Malson, Lucien, 407-408 Malthus, T. R., 257 Manchester, Richard, 226 Manchester Medico-Ethical Association (1848), 37, 49 Manchester and Salford Lock Hospital, 1818- 1917, 73-86 Manfield, Andrew, 390 Manget, Jean Jacques, 206 Mann, Gustav, 198 Mann, W. N., 296n, 302n Manners, Eleanor, countess of Rutland, 237n Manners, Elizabeth, countess of Rutland, 237n Mannoni, O., 419 Mantua, duke of, 227n Marat, Jean-Paul, 33 Marchoux, E., 56, 62 Marijuana, 214 Marillac, Charles de, 239 Marks, John, 100 Marks, L. E., 156n Marshall, Helen, see Murray, Mrs. James Marshall, James, 361 Marshall, John, 91 Marshall, M. E., 155n Marshall, M. R., 95 Marshall, T. H., 38 Martin, C. J., 58 Martin, Stephen, 358 Mary 1, 242, 244 Mary, princess [later Mary I1, 216, 234, 235, 236n Mason, S. F., 202 Masters, William, 288n Mather, Cotton, 418 Mathews, Benjamin, 361 Matthews, M. A., 372 Maurois, Andre, 405 May, Margaret Tallmadge, 298n Mead, Richard, 30, 344, 413 Meade, Richard H., 413 Medawar, Sir Peter, 311 Medical Act (1858), 42 Medical auxiliaries, Johann Christian Reil's training scheme, 321-332 Medical ethics, 36-51 Medical Research Council, 421 Medical research in the Sudan since 1903, 271-285 Medici, Cosimo de', duke of Florence, 242n, 243 Medici, Giulio de', see Clement VIJ, Pope Medici, Hippolitus de', cardinal, 232 Medieval medicine, 208, 404; Islamic, 422 M'Fadyean, J., 56 Melville, Andrew, 6-7, 16 Merlin, Mark David, 214 Merret, Christopher, 116-117 Merz, J. T., 148n Messier, B., 372 Meverall, Othowell, 1 10n, 113n Meyer, Adolf, 174 Meyer, G. H., 154 Meyler, William, 358-359, 360 Mezeray, Marie-Antoinette-Jos6phine, 252 433 Micklethwaite, Sir John, 116 Middlemass, James, 371 Midwifery, 415 Migne, J.-P., 299n Milan, duke of, see Sforza, Francisco Milanesi, Q., 399 Military medicine, 98-99, 411 Mills, Thomas, 361 Milner, Sir Alfred, 273 Milton, John, 16, 113n Mintz, Samuel L., 118n Mirabeau, comte de [Gabriel Riquetti], 250 Mississippi State Pharmaceutical Association, 420 Mitchell, Ross, 176 Moir, John, 16 Moller-Christensen, Vilh., 399 Monboddo, Lord, see Burnett, James Mondino de'Luzzi [Mundinus], 4, 5, 15 Monod, Jacques Lucien, 311 Monro, Alexander, primus, 21 Monro, Alexander, secundus, 21 Montcarzain, 253 Monte, de, cardinal, 232n Montgomery, E., 148n Montpezant, Antoine de, 231n Moral therapy, 417 Morant, Philip, 335, 336 More, Elizabeth, 244n More, Mary, see Blount, Mrs. Michael More, Roger, 244 More, Mrs. Roger, 244n More, Thomas, 243, 244-245 More, Mrs. Thomas, see Augustine, Livia Elena Morgagni, Giovanni Battista, 161, 162, 419 Mori, S., 372 Morris, Richard, 300n Morris, R. J., 256-270 Morse, Dan, 399 Mortimer, Phyllis A., 417 Mosley, Sir Oswald, 77 Mosman, William, 94 Mrowka, S., 56-57 Mulgrave, earl of, see Sheffield, Edmund Muller, Johannes, doctrine of specific sense energies: Hermann Lotze's critique of, 147-157 Munk, William, 11On, 236n, 237n Muntner, S., 377, 379, 388 Murray, James, 172, 173 Murray, Mrs. James, 172-173 Murray, James jr., 172-174 Murray, John, 173 Musgrave, William, 19 Mychalas, Dr., 226 Mythology: wild man, 407; wolfchildren, 407-408 N Napoleon I, 253, 254; death, 315-316 Nares, Sir George, 190 Nasse, Christian Friedrich, 149 Nathan, Bar, 380 Naval medicine, 342-351; Admiralty Regulations of Peter the Great (1722), 129-146 Naylor, Mrs. Margaret, 81 Nebuchadnezzar II, king ofBabylon, 208 Needham, Joseph, 92 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Nerves, sensory: Hernann Lotze's critique of Johannes MUller's doctrine of specific sense aenres, 147-157 Nerves, spinal, 209 Nervous system, Galen's ideas, 99-100 Neuburger, Max, 331-332, 377 Neuroglia, 370-375 Neurology, Sir Gordon Holmes' contnrbutions, 194-200; see also, Sherrington, Sir Charles Scott Newall, William, 83 Newbery, Francis, 360 Newbery John, 354, 360 Newbold, Maurice, 389-392 Newcastle disea, see virus disases Newcastle-on-Tyne, duke of, see Cavendish, William Newman, Charls, 269 Newton, Sir Isaac, 149 Newton, Stella Mary, 318 Nichols, Robert E. jr., 286n, 291, 292, 293 Nicoll, 354 Nielsen, Harald, 106 Nightingale, Florence, 308, 313, 314, 318 Nissl, Franz, 197-198 Noble, W. C., 103 Norfolk, duke of, see Howard, Thomas II Northumberland, earl of, see Percy, Sir Henry (Algeron) Novak, Maximilian E., 407 Nutrition, 212; vitamin C, 342-351 0 Obituaries: Sir Vincent Zachary Cope, 307-308; Douglas Guthrie, 400-401 O'Brien, R., 318 Ogden, Marget S., 300n Olby, Robert, 402 O'Malley, C. D., 120n, 322n, 389, 390 O'Meara, Bafry Edward, 316 Omri, 384 Ongro, Giuseppe, 419 Ophthalmology, 106, 195-196 Orleans, duchess of, 252 Ormerod, W. P., 259-261, 266 Osler, Sir Wiliam, 105, 166, 205, 206, 213 Osteitis deformans, see Paget's disease Ouligbuck, 182 Ouligbuck Jr., 182, 184 Outhwaite, R. B., 338n Oxford: relion and medi: the cholera pamphlets of Oxford, 1832, 1849 and 1854, 256-270; se also Ashmolean Society Oxford University: histo ' medical information bureau, 95; anatomy, curriculum, 1-2, 6. 8, 11 P Paddock, Robert, 358-359 Padua, Italy, 415, 419 Page, P., 364 Page, William, 336n Pagel, Julius Leopold, 377 434 Paget, Nathan, 113n, 116 Paget, Sir William, 239n Paget's disease in an Anglo-Saxon, 396400 Palaeopathology, 201, 396400 Pales, Leon, 398 Paley, Samuel, 380 Paley, Wlliam, archdeacon of Carlisle, 258 Pair, D. M., 337n, 340n Panofsky, Erwin, 288n Paracesus, 108, 121, 203 Parker, Goodman, 96 Parker, Peter, 320 Parkinsonism, 100 Parman, John, 391 Parry, Caleb Hillier, 158-171 Passano, Jean Joachim de, see Joachim de Passano, Jean Pasteur, Louis, 52, 166, 271, 316 Patent medicines, 352-369 Pathology, 101 Patten, J., 338n, 339n Pau ofAegina, 311 Paul, St. Vincent de, 251 Pavlov, I. P., 213 Pazzini, Adalberto, 105 Pearson, Karl, 315 Peatson, Joseph, 83 Poeddi, Robert, 173 Pendred, J., 362 Penfield, Wilder, 198, 372, 373 Pennington, Charles, 77 Percival, Thomas, 36-37, 38-40, 44-45, 47-48, 74 Percy, Sir Henry (Algernon), 6th earl of North- umberla,d, 222 Perroncito, E., 52 Perronet, Nicholas, Lord Granvelle, 227 Perth, Scotland, 172-175 Peset Reig, M., 103 Pesticides, 416 Petchey, W. J., 339n Peter I [Peter the Great], tsar ofRussia, 91, 92, 93, 129-146 Peter the Great's Admiralty Regulations (1722), 129-146 Peterson, E. C., 318 Petion, Jcrome, 252 Pey, Sir WiUiam, 18, 19, 108, 114, 120-126, 128 Pfeiffer, Klaus, 332 Phamacology, 405 Philippe-Egalit, 252 Phillips, John Leigh, 74-75 Philosophy, medical: Galenism, 97; philosophical anatomy and the philosophy curriculum, 5-9 Phrenology, 102 Physical education, 211 Piat, Jean, 309 Pickard, R., 340n Pickering, Sir George, 313 Pickerin, Robert, 390-391 Pierrepomt, Henry, 1st narquis ofDorchester,-108, 114,126-128 Pierrepoint, William, 127 Pilgrim, J. E., 336n Pillans, James, 16 Pinel, Philippe, 252, 253, 417 Piric, N. W., 60 Pitcairne, Archibald, 34 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Plague: the effects of the plague on a provincial town in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, 333-341 Plato, 7 Political prisoners in French mental institutions before 1789, during the Revolution, and under Napoleon I, 250-255 Pollard, A. F., 217n, 218n, 225, 241n Pommeraye, Giles de la, 230, 231 Pomponazzi, 415 Pope, Cornelius, 357, 358 Popper, Sir Karl, 147, 156, 311 Portal, R., 131n Porter, W. O., 37, 41 Potter, John, 95 Poulet [Paulet], Sir William, 234 Pound, J. F., 339n Power, Henry, 18, 203 Poynter, F. N. L., 108n, 400-401 Praet, Louis de, 216, 227 Pratt, 361 Preuss, Jacob, 378, 388 Preuss, Julius, 376-388 Preuss, Mrs. Julius, 378 Pringle, Sir John, 21, 26, 28, 29, 348 Prinzmetal, Myron, 168 Proksch, J. K., 87, 90 Proust, Marcel, 313 Prowazek, S. von, 53, 55-56, 67 Prujean, Sir Francis, lIOn, 114, 116, 117, 118, 126 Prussia, 321-332 Pseudo-Soranus, 104 Psychiatry, 208; in Switzerland, 213-214; see also hospitals, psychiatric Ptolemy, 7 Public health, 25-29, 206, 210, 213, 317, 418; see also pesticides; plague; venereal diseases Purkynje, J., 148 Purvis, George, 119 Putschar, Walter G. J., 101 Putschar, William G., 399 Pythagoras, 204 Q Quain, Richard, 164,166 Queckett, Edwin John, 263 Quervain, J. F. de, 415416 Quincy, John, 164 Quinn, Joseph R., 321n R Rabies, see virus diseases Rabinowitz, I. J. M., 377 Radcliffe, Dorothy, countess ofSussex, 226 Rae, John sr., 177 Rae, John, 176-193 Rae, Mrs. John sr., 177 Rae, Richard, 177 Rae, William, 177 Ranazzini, Bernardino, 27 Ram6n y Cajal, S., 198, 370, 372-373, 395 Ramus [Pierre de la Ramee), 7, 15, 16 Ranconnet, comte de, 252 Ranum, Patricia M., 317 Rapoport, Solomon Judah, 377 Rattansi, P. M., 107n, 108 Rau, Wolfgang Thomas, 26 R6aumur, R. A. F. de, 304 Reece, Richard, 32 Reid, Robert, 414 Reil, Johann Christian, 321-332, 417 Reil, Johann Christian: training scheme for medical auxiliaries, 321-332 Reinke, F., 370 Religion and medicine: the cholera pamphlets of Oxford, 1832, 1849 and 1854, 256-270 Renaissance studies, 212 Renbourn, E. T., 315, 318 Rensch, B. C. E., 311 Reproduction and sexual love, Sidrak on, 286-302 Rhazes, 344, 404, 418 Ricart, Antonio, 104 Rich, E. E., 179 Richards, R. L., 172, 176-193 Richardson, Major-General Frank, 315-316 Richardson, Sir John, 176, 182-183 Richardson, John, 80 Rideout, W. J., 80 Riese, W., 147n, 156n Riolan, Jean, the younger, 9-10 Ritter, rabbi, 377 Rivers, T. M., 62 Robbins, Rossell Hope, 302n Roberts, F., 340n Roberts, R. S., 107n, 340n Robertson, G. M., 174 Robertson, William Ford (1867-1923): his study of neuroglia, 370-375 Robinson, F. N., 301n Rochechouart, comte de, 252 Rokhlin, D. G., 399 Rokitansky, C. von, 418 Roland, Charles G., 101 Rolfe, George, 14 Rolleston, Sir Humphrey, 11In Rook, Arthur, 389-392 Roots, Ivan, 127n Roover, R. de, 246n, 247n Rosa, Mario, 215 Rose, Valentine, 104 Rosen, George, 201, 210, 250 Rosenberg, Charles, 201 Rosner, Fred, 376-388 Ross, Sir Ronald, 272 Rossetti, Lucia, 216n, 419 Rothschuh, K. E., 157n Round, Frances, 317 Round, J. Horace, 336n Roure, comte de, 252 Rousseau, Jean-Jacques, 27 Roux, Wilhelm, 53 Rowell, G. A., 260, 261 Royal College of-Physicians of Edinburgh, 119 Royal College of Physicians of London, 12-13, 42, 43, 107-128 Royal College of Surgeons of England, 42, 43,420 Royal Society ofL,ondon, 2 Rudolphi, K. A., 149 Rufus of Ephesus, 35 Rugely, Luke, 117 435 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Rundell, surgeon, 162 Ruspini, Bartholomew, 354, 363 Russ, Viktor Karl, 59 Russell, Lady Anne, 226 Russell, Edward, 361 Russell, Francis, 344 Russell, Sir John, Ist earl of Bedford, 226 Russell, K. F., 389, 390 Russia, see U.S.S.R. Rutherford, John, 21 Rutland, countesses of, see Manners, Eleanor and Elizabeth Rylands, John, 80, 83 Rymer, Th., 216n, 219 S Said, H. M., 310-311 St. Andrews University, Scotland, 8 St. John, Oliver, 127 St. Just, Louis Antoine de, 251 St. Petersburg, U.S.S.R., 130, 132, 133, 135, 137, 138, 140 Salford, Lancs., see Manchester and Salford Lock Hospital Salmon, J., 358 Saltmarsh, J., 340n Saluzzo, marquis of, 233 Samuel, Mar, 380, 382, 383 Sandys, William, Baron Sandys of 'The Vyne', 235 Sankey, Sir Hierome, 126n Saroso, Julie S., 278 Sarton, George, 408 Satti, M. H., 276-277, 278-279, 280 Saul, king ofIsrael, 382, 384 Savonuzzi, E., 52 Saxl, Fritz, 288n Scarburgh, Sir Charles, 126 Scarpinello, Augustino, 221, 223, 224-225 Schafer, W., 52, 53, 59, 61, 63, 64 Schelling, Friedrich Wilhelm Joseph von, 149, 325 Schiffman, D., 56 Schiller, Johann Christoph Friedrich, 323n Schipperges, H., 207 Schlesinger, M., 58 Schlosberg, H., 147 Schneck, Jerome, 254 Schofield, R. S., 334n, 338n Schrenk, Martin, 417 Schuler, Georg, 213-214 Schullian, Dorothy M., 206 Schuyl, Florentius, 417 Schweizer, P., 60 Scotland, 172-175, 371; education in Scottish universities (1570s), 6-8; see also Aberdeen; Edinburgh; Garvine, Thomas; Glasgow; Rae, John; St. Andrews Scott, Sir Walter, 177, 192 Scottish Society of the History of Medicine, Report of Proceedings 1973-74, 172-175 Scurvy, 190-191, 342-351 Sears, Paul Bigelow, 414 Seidler, E., 207 Sellen, Mary, 362 Sells, A. Lytton, 409-410 Seth, George, 401 436 Seward, John, 391 Seymour, Edward, duke of Somerset, 240 Seymour, Jane, 3rd queen ofHenry VIII, 236, 238 Sforza, Francisco, duke ofMilan, 224-225 Shaksespeare, William, 302, 312 Sharp, Lindsay, 107-128 Shaw, George Bernard, 401 Sheaf, Thomas, 113 Sheffield, Edmund, 2nd earl ofMulgrave, 119 Sheldon, John, 243n Sheldon, Joseph, 360 Shelekov, A., 62 Sheridan, Richard Brinsley, 360 Shernington, Sir Charles Scott, 104, 153, 196, 197, 198 Sherrington, Sir Charles Scott, a visit to, 393-395 Shousha, A. T., 277-278 Shrewsbury, earl of, see Talbot, Francis Shrewsbury, J. F. D., 333n, 336n, 337n Shrimpton, Theophilus, 361, 362 Shryock, Richard H., 205 Sidrak on reproduction and sexual love, 286-302 Siefert, Helmut, 419 Siegel, Rudolph E., 99-100, 298n Sier, L. C., 335n Sigerist, Henry E., 205 Simmons, William, 75 Simpson, Sir George, 180, 183 189-190 Simpson, Sir James Young, 1i8 Simpson, Thomas, 180, 183, 192 Sinclair, Sir John, 25 Singer, Charles, 299n Siraisi, Nancy G., 415 Sketchley, T., 358 Skoff, R. P., 372 Slack, Paul, 340n-341n Smallpox, see virus diseases Smart, I., 372 Smellie, William, 20, 21, 22, 25, 415 Smit, Pieter, 408-409 Smith, A. M. Sheridan, 405406 Smith, C. E. G., 282-283 Smith [Smythe], Richard, 391 Smith, Richard A., 321n Smith, W. David, 211 Smollett, Tobias, 360, 362, 365 Snow, John, 264-265 Snowman, J., 418 Society of Apothecaries of London, 42 Sociological analysis of the development of medical ethics, 36-51 Somerset, duke of, see Seymour, Edward Sorsby, Arnold, 318 Southampton, earl of, see Fitzwilliam, William Spain, history of medicine in, 102, 103 Spallanzani, L., 304 Spinal injury, 194, 197 Spinal nerves, 209 Spinelli, Ludovico, 216 Spinoza, Benedictus de, 325n Spitzer, Walter O., 321n Sprigge, S. Squire, 101 Spufford, P., 340n Spurzheim, J. C., 199 Squires, H. S., 273 Stack, Sir Lee Oliver Fitzmaurice, 274 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Stack Medical Research Laboratories, Khartoum, 273, 274, 276, 277, 280 Stahl, G. E., 29 Staines, William, 116-117 Stalker, Harry, 172-174, 175 Standring, Thomas, 80 Stanley, James, 7th earl ofDerby, 127 Stanley, Lady Katherine, 127 Stanley, W. M., 60, 68 Stearn, William T., 120n Stebbins, George Ledyard, 311 Stefani, F., 216n Stefannson, V., 187 Steinfeldt, V., 129n Steinschneider, Moritz, 377 Stephens, Dr., 19 Stephens, Mrs. Joanna, 366 Sterne, Laurence, 364-365 Stevenson, Lloyd G., 205 Stewart, C. P., 344 Stewart, Michael, 75, 76 Stewart, T. G., 197 Stockman, R., 344 Stoerck, Anton von, 29 Stokes-Adams syndrome, 159 Stokoe, John, 316 Stolinski, C., 303-306 Strafford, earl of, see Wentworth, Sir Thomas Strauss, E., 120n Street, William, 363 Stringer, Mary, 80 Strother, Edward, 344 Stubbs, George, 409 Sturrock, R. R., 370-375 Sudan: medical research in the Sudan since 1903, 271-285 Sudhoff, Karl, 378, 379 Suffolk, duke of, see Brandon, Charles Surrey, earls of, see Howard, Henry and Thomas Sussex, duke of, see Augustus Frederick Sussex, countess of, see Radcliffe, Dorothy Sutherland, Ian (rev.), 312 Swayne, Joseph Griffiths, 261, 264, 269 Swieten, G.L.B. Van, see Van Swieten, G. L. B. Swine vesicular disease, see virus diseases Swinnerton, Thomas, 245 Swinnerton, Mrs. Thomas, see Augustine, Livia Elena Sydenham, Thomas, 2-3, 15, 23, 29, 30 Sylvius, F., see Le Boe, F. de Syme, James, 178 Syncope anginosa, 158-171 T Tait, H. P., 175, 213 Talbot, Francis, 5th earl of Shrewsbury, 222n, 223 Talleyrand, Charles Maurice de, 252 Talmud, medicine in, 376-388, 418 Tamar, 384 Tannahill, Reay, 212 Tatishchev, V. N., 146 Taylor, 181 Taylor, A., 34ln Taylor, W., 361 Temkin, Owsei, 26, 87, 205 Tennant, Andrew, 361 Thalamus, 194 Theodoros, 380 Theophrastus, 7 Therapeutics, 319 Thicknesse, Philip, 359 Thirsk, Joan, 341n Thomas, D. P., 344, 348 Thomas, Sir Henry, 125n Thomas, John, 391 Thomas, Keith, 412 Thomas, Rev. Vaughan, 257-258, 259. 262, 265, 267 Thompson, A. F., 95 Thompson, Sir Henry, 308 Thomson, Sir A. Landsborough, 421 Thomson, William, 1st baron Kelvin, 148 Thomton, R. J., 347 Thurloe, John, 125n, 127 Tickell, William, 364 Tiercelin, duc de, 251 Tissot, S. A. D., 27, 29, 30, 31 Tobacce mosaic disease, see virus diseases Tobiya, 380 Todd, T. R. R., 175 Toller, E., 255 Tomalin, H. F., 318 Tomes, Sir John, 308 Tomlins, Richard, 2 Too-La-Shin, Chinese ambassador to the Tartars, 91 Torre, John, 239 Trani, cardinal, 232n Trench, Edmund, 117 Trenta, Christoforo, 249 Tresham, William, 220n Trevor-Roper, H. R., 412 Trohler, Ulrich, 415-416 Trollope, Anthony, 41 Trousseau, Armand, 165, 167 Tuchato [Zuchato], Geronimo, 246, 249 Tuke, Sir Brian, 216, 217 Tunstall, Cuthbert, bishop of Durham, 222 Turner, Thomas B., 204- 205 U Underwood, E. A., 125n U.S.S.R.: Admiralty Regulations of Peter the Great (1722), 129-146; Thomas Garvine- Ayrshire surgeon active in U.S.S.R. and China, 91-94 V Valenti, G. L., 52 Van Helmont, J. B., 108, 114, 115, 117, 121, 203, 405 Van Swieten, Gerard L. B., 88 Vane, Sir Henry, llIn, 113n Vannes, Peter, 235 Vaughan, Stephen, 226, 228 Vaughn, J. E., 372 Vaux, de, see Joaquim de Passano, Jean, Sieur de Vaux 437 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Vely, de, see Dodieu, Claude, Sieur de Vely Venders of medicines advertised in eighteenth- century Bath newspapers, 352-369 Venereal diseases: John Andree's Essay on gonorrhoea (1779), 87-90; The Manchester and Salford Lock Hospital, 1818-1917, 73-86 Ventris, Robert, 391 Vesalius, Andreas, 4, 6, 7, 254, 415 Veselago, F., 130n, 145 Vesling, Johann, 10, 18, 19 Vicary, Thomas, 12, 236n, 238n Vienna, Austria, 412 Virchow, Rudolf Ludwig Karl, 101, 370, 377, 418 Virus concept, 52-72 Virus diseases: fowl plague, 52-72; fowl-pox 57; influenza A, 52, 53, 59, 61-62, 63, 64; influenza, "Spanish", 209-210; Newcastle disease, 63, 64; rabies, 52, 53; smallpox, 30-31, 418; swine vesicular disease, 54; tobacco mosaic disease, 60, 65; yellow fever, 275-276 Vitamins, see nutrition Vogel, J., 62 Vogel, Morris, 201 Volkmann, Alfred Wilhelm, 150-151, 153-154, 155, 156 Volney, C. F., 252 Voltaire, F.-M., 130 Vulpian, E. F. A., 210 W Waddington, Ivan, 36-51 Wadkin, Mrs., 77 Wagner, Rudolph, 155, 156 Wakley, Thomas, 101, 269 Waldesius, 228n Walker, Henry, 390 Walker, Robert, 357 Wall, Dr., 163 Waller, Augustus D., 209, 307 Waller, A. V., 198 Walsh, Sir Walter, 222 Walther, Philip von, 149 Walwyn, William, 319 Wapshaw, H. Campbell, 172 Ward, John, 125n Ward. Joshua, 360, 365-366 Ward, Seth, 109, 122 Waren, Humphrey, 239n Waring, Thomas, 354 Warren, John, 163 Warren, J. C., 163 Waterhouse, Benjamin, 418 Waterson, A. P., 52-72 Watson, J., 402 Watts, J., 358 Webb, Charles, 363 Weber, Ernst Heinrich, 150, 153, 154, 156 Webster, Charles, 107n, 108, 118n, 122n, 202 Webster, John, 108-109, 319 Wedderbourne, 115 Wedgwood, Josiah, 409 Weigert, Carl, 194, 370, 371 Weineck, E., 60-61 Weinmann, R., 147n Weisse, Christian Hermann, 151 438 Welch, William Henry, 205 Weldon, Mrs., 115 Weldon, T. D., 394 Wellcome, Sir Henry S., 271 Wellcome Tropical Research Laboratories, Khartoum, 271-274, 275, 280, 281-282 Wellesley, Arthur, 1st duke of Wellington, 411 Wellington, duke of, see Wellesley, Arthur Wellman, M., 104 Wells, Calvin, 39640 Wells, Joseph, 337n Wendy, Thomas, 1, 389 Wentscher, M.. l51n Wentworth, Michael, 244 Wentworth, Sir Thonmas, Ist earl ofStrafford, 121n Wesley, John, 20, 24, 25, 29, 30, 31, 343, 344, 350 West, Benjamin, 305 West, Lynn, 305 Whalley, Richard, 236 Wharton, Thomas, 112, 116, 125 Whistler, Daniel, 111-112, 113n, 116, 117, 125 White, T. H., 297-298 Whitfield, F. G. S., 274 Whittet, T. D., 96 Whitwell, J. R., 370 Whitworth, Mrs., 80 Whitworth, Sir Joseph, 80 Whorton, James, 416 Whytt, Robert, 21, 25, 29 Widdowson, E. M., 347 Wieland, Christoph Martin, 323n Wilberforce, Samuel, bishop of Oxford [later bishop of Winchester], 269 Wilby, John, 117 Wilkes, 354 Wilkinson, Lise, 52-72 Willcock, John William, 50 William of Conches, 299 Williams, Sir John, 240 Williams, Sir Maurice, lIOn, 121n Willis, Thomas, 203 Wilson, Dudley, 212 Wilson, F. P., 337n Wilson, Sir Graham, 279-280 Wilson, P. A., 37, 38, 51 Winslow, Ola Elizabeth, 418 Winston, Thomas, 19, 110 Witchcraft, 412; in Essex 1560-1700, 320 Wolsey, Thomas, cardinal, 215-249 Wong, K. Chimin, 92 Wood, A., 124n Wood, John, 359, 362 Woodall, John, 344 Woodhouse, Nicholas, 396-400 Woodruff, A. M., 57, 61 Woodward, John, 313-314 Woodward, William R., 147-157 Woodworth, R. S., 147 Wordie, J. M., 176 Womer, R. K., 318 Worseley, Benjamin, 126n Wotton, Edward, 216n, 217n, 218, 236, 238 Wotton, Nicholas, 236n Wren, Sir Christopher, 421 Wright, Sir Almroth Edward, 103, 307, 308 Wright, Henry, 112 Wright, Lawrence, 12, 110, 112, 119 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core Index Wrigley, E. A., 337n, 338n Wriothesley, Sir Thomas, lord chanellor of Eng- land, 239 Wu-Lien-Teh, 92 Wunderbar, R. J., 376, 377 Wunderlich, Carl August, 205 Wundt, W., 148, 156 Wyke, T. J., 73-86 y Yates, Frances A., 410411 Yellow fever, see virus di Yohanan, rabbi, 379, 384-385 Young, F. G., 348 Young, J. Z., 393-395 Young, Michael, 17 Young, Thomas, 148 Y01anni Ibn Sar&biyOn, 311 Zaozerskaya, E. I., 130n Zunz, Leopold, 377 Zuppinger, Hans, 316 439 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S002572730002069X https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_dp2m4gdo7vgnfmtjr62p2niedm	----	i FOOTSTEPPING TO FEDERATION An alternative approach to analysing Australian Society at the beginning of the Twentieth Century. Eric Carpenter A thesis submitted for the degree of Doctor of Philosophy Through the Research School of the Humanities and the Arts The Australian National University October 2016 ii I hereby declare that this submission is my own work and to the best of my knowledge it contains no material previously published or written by another person and no material which has been accepted for the award of any other degree or diploma at any educational institution, except where acknowledgement is made in the thesis. Any contribution made to the research by colleagues during my candidature is fully acknowledged. I also declare that the intellectual content of this thesis is the product of my own work, except to the extent that assistance from others in the project’s design, style, presentation and expression is acknowledged. Eric Carpenter iii CONTENTS Abstract iv Acknowledgements v Preamble vii Introduction 1 Sydney Federation Parade 50 Melbourne Federation Parade 148 Conclusion 243 Bibliography 270 iv ABSTRACT On 1 January 1901, the first day of the twentieth century, the six colonies of Australia federated in Sydney to become a single united country. On 9 May of the same year this symbolic inauguration became a practical reality when the first Federal Parliament was opened in the Melbourne Exhibition Building. Both these significant events were accompanied by equally significant processions through the two respective colonial, then state capital cities. Much has been written about the kind of country Australia was at the time of Federation and what manner of nation Australia consciously and subconsciously intended to become. However, our appreciation and understanding of these issues today tends to be determined, as do most historical studies, by an analysis of the written documents of the day, and subsequent written academic commentary. I would contend that such texts have, to some degree, always been restricted by the social and cultural limitations of the written documentary process, of those writing the work, and even the social and cultural limitations of those for whom such work is intended. Is it possible therefore, to analyse historical events by utilising other methodologies; other research materials and other approaches in collating evidence? And will such processes provide new insights, or simply re-iterate what has gone before? To this end I have adapted the techniques of Richard Holmes’ footstepping and Gilbert Ryle’s and Clifford Geertz’s thick description to undertake such an evaluation by retracing the routes of these two principal Federation parades and recording what additional evidence could be gained. This methodology has comprised a visual description and interpretation of the routes of the two Federation processions through the cities by referencing back to both the written record of the day through the press, and general historical commentary on these cities’ culture and society of the time. The primarily visual aspect of my analysis has been supplemented by a visual photographic documentation that provides both an historical record of the sites and locations along the parade routes as well as an added source of interpretation of the Federation process. Through this process, I have analysed the concept of national identity and the imagined Australian community as it was expressed at this specific period of Australia’s history. v Finally, I have evaluated this methodology itself to determine the degree to which these techniques are a valid means of translating to the wider sphere of general historical research. Are footstepping and thick description effective processes for researching other previously inaccessible sources of historical evidence? ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS A work of this magnitude has only been made possible through the invaluable assistance and support of many people. I would like to begin by thanking my supervisor; Professor Paul Pickering from the Australian National University’s College of Arts and Social Sciences, whose constant guidance and personal and academic support enabled me to complete this work. Professor Pickering’s own enthusiasm and professional expertise not only provided a guide towards the formulation of the research themes and methodology into a form that would be acceptable as an academic project, but also greatly extended the development of my own competence as an historian. I am also indebted to Dr Maria-Suzette Maria Fernandez-Dias from the Centre for Cross Cultural Research at the ANU, who first approached me with the idea of undertaking post-graduate research in this field of Australian history. My application was supported by Dr Linda Young from the Deakin University School of Humanities and Social Sciences, who as my initial post-graduate lecturer in Cultural Heritage Management at the University of Canberra had awakened an interest in the history and heritage of my own culture. Other members of the ANU Research School of the Humanities and the Arts at the Australian National University who have assisted me include Dr Stephen Foster who provided initial feedback on my submission. The staff of both the ANU Library and the Australian National Library provided continued support and the guidance necessary to access both primary and newspaper resources and secondary sources and commentary. Many people from my current place of employment, the Australian War Memorial, have also been most supportive of this work. Ms Robyn van Dyk, head of the AWM Research Centre, generously provided the study leave necessary for me to undertake vi post-graduate research, while Ms Jennie Norberry and my colleagues from Information Services have not only supported my part time study over the last eight years, but have also offered enthusiastic encouragement to a staff member who, at times, no doubt appeared a little stressed. In particular, I would also like to acknowledge Dr John Connor, current lecturer at ADFA and previous historian with the Australian War Memorial, who fostered an interest in the wider study of Australian political and cultural society at the time of Federation. Finally, none of this work would have been possible without the constant and enthusiastic support of my wife and photographer Patricia Casnave. As well as offering her professional services as a heritage and geographical photographer, Patricia’s ongoing support for the wider social concept of the thesis, and her encouragement with the everyday practicalities of living with a part-time academic researcher, have been instrumental in my work reaching fruition. I happily dedicate this thesis to her. vii PREAMBLE The genesis for this thesis can be dated to February 1959 when a young seven year old boy enrolled in 2 nd class at Camdenville Public School in the inner Sydney suburb of Newtown. The boy’s parents had come from a culturally aware background with a politically active inner-city industrial heritage, but had absorbed the post Second World War ideal of the outer urban idyll and the quarter acre block. They survived for a decade in the bliss of Menzian suburbia but eventually missed the social and political stimulation of the inner city. And so at the end of the 1950s they moved back. However, the inner-west of Sydney to which they returned was evolving into an environment that was quite different from the one that had existed prior to the war. Newtown, Marrickville and their surrounds had always been multifaceted communities, with Irish, Chinese, Western European and North American minorities; 1 however, the post-war migration boom was now changing the district to a far greater degree, and in a far shorter period of time. Baltic and Dutch northern Europeans escaping the legacy of the Second World War, Greek and Yugoslavian southern Europeans fleeing the poverty and political upheaval in their own lands, and Maltese using assisted migration to escape unemployment through the British withdrawal from the large naval base on their island, were all making their homes in Sydney’s inner west. Both these newly arrived migrants and the original Anglo Celtic Australians were suddenly forced to come to terms with vast changes in culture, often without the advantages of a common language, common religious affiliation or common patterns of social and familial support. 2 They were also accommodating to these changes with a conspicuous lack of interest from those sections of society which would later become 1 Richard Cashman and Chrys Meader: Marrickville: Rural Outpost to Inner City, 1997, Hale & Iremonger, Sydney, chapt. 3. Note the concept of the four main waves of migration into the district, beginning with the original English gentry (who supplied the suburb and road names), followed by Methodist and Non-conformist engineers and trades folk peppered with Chinese, German, Jewish and North American minorities up to the First World War. Between the wars, the third wave consisted largely of Irish railway and factory workers moving “out” from Surry Hills, the Haymarket and the old Wexford Street area. The fourth wave following the Second World War was part of the massive post-war migration boom that affected most working class districts in Australia, with Newtown and Marrickville becoming strongly Greek, Yugoslav, Maltese, and later Indo-Chinese, Middle Eastern and even Portuguese. 2 The Sydney Morning Herald: 22 March 1951, p. 2. The complexity of the situation for those living close to the issue. Note the letter to the editor of from the Rev S W McKibbin, from Newtown, criticising Italian migrants and supporting German settlers, who had restrictions placed upon them after the war. viii the most vocal in their newly found patronage for the concept of multiculturalism. 3 Schools in the area, too, were thus becoming multicultural well before the term gained common currency. 4 As that young boy, I became aware through the broadsheet press and the broadcast media that my experiences and the experiences of those in my class were far removed from those being aired across the wider Australian community. 5 Attitudes conveyed in the press toward Greek, Maltese and Yugoslavian migrants, and their Australian hosts, were rarely positive. Families that I saw struggling to eventually adapt successfully to a quite different way of life were pilloried as being less than civilised and intrinsically ignorant by those with a quite dissimilar societal heritage. In fact, both sides within the local district, the newly arrived non-English speaking Europeans and the original Anglo Celtic working class were too often presented as problematic; unsuccessfully adapting and being unwilling to accept the other. However, it struck me that those of British and Irish heritage who actually resided in the district tended to be far more tolerant in their day to day interactions with the newcomers than pundits who lived far away in both distance and culture. 6 The only times media and press reporters were seen in the area were during the relatively rare instances of strife. 7 And most of the tension that did occur had less to do with racial and cultural conflict than with the issues of poverty and lack of opportunity that were common to all. 8 For 3 The Canberra Times: 10 April 1987, p. 10. Multiculturalism no ‘fad’. “People should not be misled into perceiving multiculturalism as the latest sociological fad or as simply a ‘warm inner glow; or middle class self-indulgence,’ the Minister for Immigration and Ethnic Affairs, Mr Young, said yesterday.” 4 Andrew Jakubowicz: Racism, Multiculturalism and the Immigration Debate, 1985, The Institute of Race Relations, London online. “By the early 1970s, ‘multiculturalism’ was entering common discourse within the fields of immigration and ethnic affairs.” Quoting Al Grassby’s 1973 paper A Multi-Cultural Society for the Future. Many inner-city working class people may well have argued that they had already been living in a multicultural society for a quarter of a century. 5 Rockhampton Morning Bulletin: 12 August 1953, p. 1. Note the Minister for Migration, Mr Holt claiming in 1953 that “in the last five or six years, 3,000 migrant children of school age had settled in Australia, and he believed that these presented a real problem to the State educational authorities.” 3,000 pupils would have been the sum complement of 10 Primary Schools, or 4 Secondary Schools, Australia wide. The Argus: 25 July 1956, p. 4. “Let’s Stick to the Job. Today in Australia, we hold the key to the door of future expansion. That key is our immigration program.” By 1957 both Harold Holt and The Argus recognised the significance and necessity of migration, although still no mention is made of the source of these migrants. 6 Richard Cashman and Chrys Meader: Marrickville: Rural Outpost to Inner City, pp. 74-76. Note the later example where the local Marrickville RSL club sponsored the 1987 and 1988 Vietnamese Moon Festival Celebrations. 7 The Sydney Morning Herald: 12 November 1988, p. 76. “The latter paper [The Glebe] quoted a police source suggesting that some Cabramatta and Bankstown hoodlum gangs’ activities are directed from Marrickville.” Although two decades later, and this time relating to Vietnamese migrants, the issues, even in a minority, were always real enough. 8 William Dick: A Bunch of Ratbags, 1965, Penguin Books, Melbourne, chapt. 10. Although a work of exaggerated fiction, William Dick’s book, describing a Bodgie upbringing in the equivalent suburb of Footscray in Melbourne, presents an attitude to migrants quite at variance to the one I experienced in ix those other times when life went on as normal and old and new Australians were slowly but inextricably becoming bound together in the creation of a fresh and unique society, commentators were most conspicuous by their absence. 9 Since the early 1980s, partly as a result of world-wide trends, and partly as a result of conscious government policy, Australia has entered a post-industrial age where most of the occupations that provided newly arrived migrants with entry into the work-force, and therefore the wider society, have been exported overseas. 10 At the same time, migrant matters were becoming promoted more widely through the media. 11 Consequently, complex social issues often became politically polarised and degraded into excuses for superficial point scoring by people who, in the main, still had little contact with migrant communities. 12 Part of my intention in this thesis was to discover whether social and cultural attitudes toward non-British migrants at the time of Federation were similar to those experienced through the rest of the twentieth century. These attitudes can perhaps be summed up by the observation that the discourse on migration principles and the development of governmental policy on immigration, assimilation and multiculturalism has generally taken place at one level of society. However, the implementation of these policies has habitually been left to members of a wider population who actually reside alongside and within migrant communities. Newtown and Marrickville. Perhaps I was insulated, but I saw very little of this anti-migrant violence described by Dick as common in the 1950s. 9 The Sydney Morning Herald: 7 November 1987. Journalist John Stapleton was one later exception, who found that in Marrickville “Greeks, Italians, Portuguese, Yugoslavs, Indonesians and Anglo-Celtic Australians live side by side and, from the evidence yesterday, very harmoniously.” 10 Mark Hearne and Greg Patmore: Working the Nation, 2001, Pluto Press, Sydney, p. 34. “The [Commonwealth Clothing] Factory has since gone, the work sent off-shore where cheaper labour produces lower quality garments for the modern military.” 11 To see how attitudes change over the course of two decades, note the article in the Australian Women’s Weekly of 15 November 1978, p. 6, where considerable sympathy is afforded to migrant children attempting to cope in Australian Schools: “Blaming the migrant child rather than the system is seen to be unfair and unrealistic.” 12 The Sydney Morning Herald: 19 February 2003 online. Muslims the new bogeymen of racist Australia. “Dr Dunn [Professor Kevin Dunn, Dean of the School of Social Science and Psychology at the University of Western Sydney] writes that Australia has a ‘hard core of racists’ and that some of the country's worst racism is found in working-class pockets of Sydney.” Dr Dunn’s findings: Fifty-four per cent of those surveyed would be concerned if their relative married a Muslim. About seven per cent are opposed to cultural diversity. However, eighty-three per cent said there was a problem with racism in Australia. (In other words, the problem is with other people, never the respondents.) Forty-five per cent said some cultural groups did not belong in Australia and about twelve per cent admitted to being prejudiced. In other words, eighty to ninety per cent of working class people support Multiculturalism and are against prejudice, although around half have serious issues with one particular cultural group. x Australian society at the beginning of the last century has often been portrayed as racist and xenophobic; 13 with the introduction of the White Australia Policy and Immigration Restriction Act 14 proof that our nation’s founding fathers and mothers were bigoted individuals. 15 However, I will consider whether, while this may appear to be the case from the point of view of modern twenty first century cosmopolitan Australia, the citizens who supported these policies were reacting to a unique set of circumstances in the best way that they knew at the time. Modern multicultural Australia did not materialise in the decades following the Second World War without any connection to the past. I believe that there was a foundation of acceptance which was varying, inconsistent and constantly questioned. 16 Anti-Chinese 17 and anti-German riots had occurred and anti-Chinese and non-white legislation implemented; but they could only do so in a society that had allowed Chinese miners, German settlers and Greek and Maltese workers to be admitted in the first place. 18 What were attitudes of ordinary Australians at the turn of the century? I know from my own memory and experience that distinctions existed during the 1950s and 1960s between what was covered in the media and what was occurring in everyday life. Is it possible to investigate and evaluate alternative attitudes toward membership of Australian society at the time of Federation through alternative sources of evidence? 13 Ann Curthoys and Andrew Markus: Who are our Enemies? 1978, Hale & Iremonger, Sydney, p. 22. “Employers benefited directly from white worker antagonism to Chinese workers, as a cheap labour supply could only remain cheap if organisationally distinct from the rest of the labour force.” 14 Commonwealth of Australia: Immigration Restriction Act 1901. An Act to place certain restrictions on Immigration and to provide for the removal from the Commonwealth of prohibited immigrants. 15 James Jupp: Immigration, 1991, Oxford University Press, Sydney, pp. 45-47. 16 Mark Hearne and Greg Patmore: Working the Nation, 2001, Pluto Press, Sydney, p. 7. Writing on the Centenary of Federation, the editors note that Humphrey McQueen, as a representative of the New Left “could find little good to say about the Australian Settlement, the Old Left or the labour movement generally” at the time of Federation. 17 The Sydney Morning Herald: 4 May 1888, p. 8. The Chinese Difficulty, referring to the departure of the ship Afghan for Sydney carrying unwanted Chinese immigrants, arriving on this day. South Australian Register: 6 August 1888, p. 5, where this earlier event in Sydney was described as a riot. The Sydney Morning Herald: 6 June 1888, p. 5. Letter to the editor indicating that support for the “inconsiderable number of inoffensive Chinamen” was also strong at the time. 18 Gerhard Fischer: Enemy Aliens, 1989, University of Queensland Press, pp. 127-128 et passim. Note the understandable but still virulent degree to which Australian attitudes towards German migrants turned with the outbreak of the First World War, and notably after the 1916 carnage on the Western Front. 1 INTRODUCTION In this thesis, I intend to gain insight into the kind of society that was being created in Australia at the start of the twentieth century; the beginning of modern Australia. By adopting an empirical approach, 1 I will be asking, what can we learn about the Australian society that existed a century ago? What was considered necessary for membership of the Australian community as it developed from isolated colonies into a modern nation state? Attitudes of course change over time and are invariably fluid. It is often not possible to view these in the same graduated manner; rather, we usually take specific times and compare with earlier or later periods, recognising that changes that have taken place over the interim can either occur evenly throughout that time, or suddenly, as the result of particular all-encompassing experiences. 2 If one wished to determine such attitudes within the Australian context, and how they may have changed over time, the one significant point of reference would have to be the Federation of the nation in 1901. Not only was this virtually the half-way point between the beginning of European settlement on the continent, and our current era, but it was the formal and conscious creation of the nation in political terms. Consequently, the event would have provided strong motivation for conscious reflection in social terms of what ideals the new nation should embody. The Federation of Australia was marked by a wide variety of formal and informal events throughout the first half of the year. On Tuesday 1January 1901 a celebratory march passed through the streets of Sydney on its way out to Centennial Park, where the new nation was formally proclaimed. Other marches and parades occurred in the other capital cities of the colonies, now states; however this was not only the largest event, but also the one culminating with this most significant ceremony. Later in the same year, on Monday 6 May 1901, a week of celebrations for the establishment of the new Federal Parliament commenced with a similar parade through the streets of Melbourne. 1 Ted Honderich: The Oxford Companion to Philosophy, 1995, Oxford University Press, Oxford, United Kingdom, p. 229. “Also, one should distinguish between empiricism as a psychological doctrine of how the mind acquires the contents it has, and empiricism as a doctrine of justification, about how we can justify our various claims to knowledge.” In many respects, my work will utilise both concepts. 2 Raymond Aron: Introduction to the Philosophy of History, 1961, George Weidenfeld and Nicolson Ltd, London, p. 21. Aron embodies the Annales view that while accidents and incidents can occur and result in effects, long term trends still prevail. 2 Again, this momentous event was commemorated throughout the nation; however only in Melbourne would the festivities include the formal opening of the new parliament as the political manifestation of Federation. These were the two principal and largest parades that occurred at the time, and consequently would have embodied many of the conscious and unconscious ideals of the new society. One way of analysing these ideals would be to adopt the role of a geographical historian, examine the routes of these two principal Federation processions and extrapolate back in time to analyse attitudes towards perceived membership of this new Australian society. It was at a meeting of the British Economic History Society in the 1930s, that the economic historian and Christian socialist Richard Henry Tawney rose and uttered the reverberating words: “What historians need is not more documents, but stronger boots”. 3 Tawney was apparently not disparaging of the role of documents in themselves, but rather pointing out that social awareness of the material and physical world is “the door to historical understanding… [History] is the study not of a series of past events, but of the life of societies, and of the records of the past as means to that end”. 4 Tawney’s response to the physical world of experience could be best summed up by his expectation of the role of the geographical historian: “A student who is more interested in wild life than in museum specimens must be prepared to annoy gamekeepers by following it across country.” 5 While not expecting to annoy either gamekeepers or city policemen, I have adapted this role of the geographical historian through the biographer Richard Holmes’ process of footstepping. By walking the routes of the two parades, as the roads, lanes and streets still exist today and utilising the literary resources of the time; in this case primarily the daily newspapers as records of the day, I intended to use these past events as a window into the society of the time. 3 Ross Terrill: R H Tawney and His Times, 1973, Harvard University Press, Massachusetts, p. 7. W Keith Hancock: Country and Calling, 1954, Faber and Faber, London, p. 95. 4 Ross Terrill: R H Tawney and His Times, p. 7. 5 J M Winter: History and Society: Essays by R H Tawney, 1978, Routledge & Keegan Paul, London, p. 48. 3 The source of this methodological framework developed from Holmes’ 1985 book: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer. 6 It is in this work that Holmes recounts the elaboration of his study of Literary Romanticism through his following the modern traces of the diaries of Robert Louis Stevenson through Central France and Mary Wollstonecraft in Revolutionary Paris, the travels of the Romantic poet Percy Bysshe Shelley and his entourage through Italy between 1818 and 1822, and the final days of the French poet Gerard de Nerval’s tortured Parisian existence. These studies were prompted partly by developments in Holmes’ own professional life and partly though his interaction with momentous events in the wider world. His 1964 expedition through the high country of central France guided by Stevenson’s 1878 journal Travels with a Donkey in the Cevennes was largely a quest for the conscious development of his own career as a writer and biographer. 7 Part two, dealing with Mary Wollstonecraft and the French Revolution on the other hand, was initiated as much by the external circumstances of the 1968 youth revolutions around the world, again particularly in Paris. 8 In each instance, Holmes’ method involved adapting journals and diaries of personal events by following, or footstepping, the original routes taken by the writers in the hope of gleaning further insight into their source of inspiration. His intention was to experience the particular occasion in the original writers’ own development through a clearer understanding of not only the singular works concerned, but the wider development of their careers through both his and their interactions with the physical environment. 9 This process is nothing new in itself, even for studying the “wild life” of humanity. Visiting historical sites and following the paths taken by historical figures has a long and proud tradition, and has formed the basis of the travelogue down through the centuries; from William Gilpin’s Observations on the River Wye and several parts of 6 Richard Holmes: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, 2005, Harper Perennial, London. 7 Richard Holmes: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, p. 27. “It was important for me, because it was probably the first time that I caught an inkling of what a process (indeed an entire vocation) called ‘biography’ really means.” 8 Richard Holmes: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, p. 73. “One sultry evening in the spring of 1968, standing at the window of a small upper room in Paddington, I first heard the sound of the new French Revolution.” The impetus was a letter that Holmes received from a girl in Paris describing the revolutionary discord in the French capital, and its contrast with the more mundane dreariness of 1968 London. 9 Richard Holmes: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, p. 73. “I had not been to France for four years, and the idea of biography had lain dormant in my mind.” 4 South Wales 10 to Jonathan Raban’s Arabia through the Looking Glass. 11 In recent times, historians and writers as wide ranging as Michael Wood 12 and Edmund White have embraced the technique of stepping through historical sites and locations, either to give a physical immediacy to their research or as a stimulus to their descriptions. 13 Paul Pickering used this same process for the introduction to his study of Chartism in Manchester in the nineteenth century. “Our Point of entry into the townscape is to join a group of Manchester Chartists as they marched the streets of their city in protest.” Pickering then lists sites that he passed retracing the 1839 march: “Oldham Road and Great Ancoats Street, in Ancoats. From this grand rendezvous they marched in procession down Swan Street and Shudehill…They had marched through what Robert Cooper called the old immoral world.” 14 Michael Wood’s In Search of the Trojan War includes the added dimension of being not just the description of his own researching the site for the veracity of Homer’s story, but also the history of the other earlier searches for the city. In this case, footstepping was used to uncover the reality of an already well-known myth and then overlay the author’s own more recent discoveries. Where footstepping differs from mere travelogue is less in the process, and more in the intended purpose and outcome of this process. There is more than entertainment and instruction involved. As well as engaging and influencing the reader, the process of footstepping is intended to transform the writer’s own work. It is a means of self- discovery and development before then becoming one of enlightenment for others. I therefore adopted the footstepping technique as a means of reworking this method of personal recording into a social analysis of a wider community, augmented by the press of the day and later historical commentary. Also, by adapting these same approaches to historiography and the investigation of the modern myths of a modern community rather than the mythic past, I intend to not only uncover specific attitudes towards 10 William Gilpin: Observations on the River Wye and several parts of South Wales 1770. Originally published in 1782, it is interesting that the journey down a river in the “wilds” of western Britain to uncover the untold and exotic occurred in the same year that James Cook uncovered the unexplored east coast of Australia. 11 Jonathan Raban: Arabia through the Looking Glass, 1979, Fontana Books, Glasgow. 12 Michael Wood: In Search of the Trojan War, 1985, BBC Books, London. Michael Wood: In Search of Shakespeare, 2005, BBC Books, London. The methodology is especially effective where the historical presentation is designed for the very visual modern medium of television. 13 Edmund White: The Flâneur, 2001, Bloomsbury Publishing, London, p. 16. “And no wonder Paris, land of novelty and distraction, is the great city of the flâneur – that aimless stroller who loses himself in the crowd, who has no destination and goes wherever caprice or curiosity directs his or her steps.” 14 Paul Pickering: Chartism and the Chartists in Manchester and Salford, 1995, Macmillan Press, London, p 10. 5 Australian society at the time of Federation, but also evaluate the general footstepping process to determine whether it is feasible for other wider studies. My purpose in analysing the both Federation marches is therefore twofold. Initially, I intended to determine how people at the time thought of the emerging Australian identity, and whether those without an Anglo Saxon or Anglo Celtic cultural and racial heritage could, or should, participate in the new nation that was being created. I would analyse the evidence and draw conclusions from what I uncover while physically retracing the routes of the marches. My second purpose was to evaluate the process itself, and determine whether it is viable to attempt to rely upon this non-document based technique of footstepping to uncover such attitudes, particularly for a community rather than for the individuals to which it has generally been applied in the past. While I decided to analyse these two processions by pulling on Richard Tawney’s thick pair of boots 15 and tramping the routes, I was also aware of the restrictions inherent within a process primarily reliant upon such footstepping. Richard Holmes himself acknowledged the limitations as he retraced the footsteps of Stevenson through the Cevennes: “Even in imagination, the gap was there. It had to be recognised; it was no good pretending. You could not play-act into the past; you could not turn it into a game of make-believe.….Somehow you had to produce the living effect, while remaining true to the dead fact.” 16 However, on the same page, he also pointed out what could be construed as one great advantage of adopting such an approach: “You would never catch them [the biographer’s subject]; no, you would never quite catch them. But maybe, if you were lucky, you might write about the pursuit of that fleeting figure in such a way as to bring it alive in the present.” 17 I did not expect to quite catch all the individual people who participated in these momentous events a century ago; each one would themselves be worthy of a full biography. However, by pursuing the fleeting figures as a group preparing for, and enacting, their parts through the streets of the two major cities of the nation, I intended to bring alive the society of the time, and the federated community’s ideals and expectations. Unlike Holmes’ subjects though, my citizens would not be revealed 15 Ross Terrill: R H Tawney and His Times, p. 7. 16 Richard Holmes: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, p. 27. 17 Richard Holmes: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, p. 27. 6 languidly over the space of days and weeks. Both marches took only an hour and a half to pass, 18 so I have had to approach these two Federation parades as most significant but also brief instances of the conscious and subconscious creation of a national identity. The marches were also obvious public spectacles reliant upon the conscious erection of arches and decorations, the conscious planning of the routes, and most significantly, the conscious and unconscious assembly and reactions of the participants. Where the footstepping approach varies from other forms of historical research is in the immediacy and the acknowledged individual nature of the activity. Holmes did not just visit the districts that his subjects such as Robert Louis Stevenson and Mary Wollstonecraft journeyed through in France; rather he consciously and as accurately as possible, placed his feet in the same pathways as his subjects. While following a written diary or description, he was looking for something more that really could only be offered by the immediacy of the location itself. The benefit of this approach bore fruit when Holmes attempted to retrace Mary Wollstonecraft’s diary entry revealing her view of King Louis XVI en route to his execution at the Tuileries on 26 December 1793. “About 9:00 o’clock in the morning”, she wrote, “the King passed by my window, moving silently along (except now and then a few strokes on the drum, which rendered the stillness more awful).” 19 The problem for Holmes was that Mary’s residential address was given as No 22 rue Meslay, a street not on the route but one block behind the parade as it passed westward down the boulevard Saint-Martin. 20 The quandary was solved when Holmes actually visited the site and realised that Mary Wollstonecraft’s room was at the back of the house, with “an unobstructed view clear across the rooftops to the north, commanding the whole panorama of the boulevard beyond them, from the now place de la République to what then, and still is, the archway of the port Saint-Martin”. 21 Such an immediate and close view of the ultimate aftermath of the French Revolution would no doubt have contributed to a change of heart on the part of the previously enthusiastic supporter of radicalism. “Mary’s apparent disillusion with the course of the Revolution was now taking, together with the increasing personal restrictions applied to ‘aliens’, 18 Although my actual retracing and analysis of their routes would take a little longer, and even then, this passage of time, including the waiting beforehand was no doubt onerous enough for the participants and the spectators of the day. 19 Richard Holmes: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, p. 100. 20 GeoCentre: Euro-Road Atlas of France, R V Verlag, Germany, Paris map 222. 21 Richard Holmes: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, p. 99. 7 suggest that this was the sensible moment to go home.” Even after this experience, though, the young militant was loath to leave. “But once again [having been offered a seat on a coach out of the city], she decided to stay.” 22 If history is the biography of a nation, 23 then my study will more accurately attempt to script the biography of a population: an account of the two cities as communities and the biography of representatives of these communities. Since such biography is also generally reliant upon the traditional sources of historical research, it will be important to see the degree to which my footstepping process can complement this. What geography and biography do provide is the drama of the concrete and the immediate. Holmes’ historical account of the execution of Louis XVI is magnified though the biographical detail of Mary Wollstonecraft’s own experience, and the geographical referencing of this experience. Even the Realist literature fashionable at the time of Federation provides a geographical link with this sense of place. Novels from the late nineteenth century to the post war twentieth century have often been consciously created through their geography. 24 So, my footstepping is not so much a new methodology, rather more a new way of utilising and thinking about a traditional historical and even literary technique. The notion of uncovering a mythic landscape that exists beyond the formal written word has also been considered by the philosopher and German Romantic, Walter Benjamin. In his seminal 1927-1940 work The Arcades Project, 25 Benjamin mentioned writers who again placed their reliance upon the non-literary and the geographical. Hugo von Hofmannsthal, the Austrian literary giant of the late nineteenth century sought “to read what was never written,” and further claimed that: “Historical method is philological method, a method that has as its foundation the book of life…the landscape built of sheer life.” 26 Benjamin’s most succinct quote, and one that I feel forms a subliminal 22 Richard Holmes: Footsteps, Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, p. 104. 23 Alun Munslow: The New History, 2003, Pearson Education Limited, Harlow, p. 143. 24 Ronald Hingley: Dostoyevsky, his life and work, 1978, Paul Elek Ltd, London, p. 166 et passim. Geir Kjetsaa: Dostoyevsky, 1987, Viking Penguin, London, p. 304. The inner city of St Petersburg in Fyodor Dostoyevsky’s Crime and Punishment, and the fictitious town of Skotoprigonyevsk (based on Staraya Russa, where the Dostoyevsky family holidayed) in The Brothers Karamazov, became as significant to the action of the novels as the human characters. Albert Camus: The Fall, 1957, Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, p. 12. “Holland is a dream, Monsieur, a dream of gold and smoke – smokier by day, more gilded by night.” Albert Camus’ foggy and watery Amsterdam is not only the location, but virtually a principal character in The Fall. 25 Walter Benjamin: The Arcades Project, 1999, Harvard University Press, Massachusetts, chapt. M, The Flâneur. 26 Walter Benjamin: The Arcades Project, p. 417. 8 guide to my own work declared: “And I travel in order to get to know my geography”. 27 Benjamin continued his investigation of what we would call footstepping through the writer Marcel Proust’s search for locations which, “appeared to be concealing, beneath what my eyes could see, something which they invited me to approach and take from them, but which, despite all my efforts, I never managed to discover.” 28 Although again taken from the literary world, Proust exemplified the footstepping ideal of drawing all that could be gleaned from the minutiae of physical experience. As the author and critic C P Snow remarked: “he was the only great writer who could make the railway journey from Paris to Normandy sound as much of an adventure as the Charge of the Light Brigade.” 29 Richard Holmes himself gives further insight into an earlier, “surprisingly athletic Proust who used to ‘refresh his hay fever’ with little daily expeditions through the Monceau, complete with gold-topped cane and lemonade- coloured chamois leather gloves.” 30 Interestingly, la Moncea is the park off the boulevard de Courcelles, a kilometre or so from La Gare St Lazare, from where the infamous train trip north must have commenced, and at the other end of the (then yet to be opened up) boulevard Haussmann from where Mary Wollstonecraft had viewed the passing king a century earlier. 31 NATION AND MYTH All nations and national identities are created through myths. According to Roland Barthes, such myths can exist consciously or subconsciously in the minds of the citizens, within the imagination of one section of the community or within the collective psyche of the nation. 32 Myths can be representative of national characteristics and traits that appear obvious to all, but they can also be myths in the negative sense of the term; 27 Walter Benjamin: The Arcades Project, p. 416. Schaub: Philosophy today, essays on recent developments in the field of philosophy 1968, p. 218. Quoted from Réja: L’Art chez les fous 1907, p. 131. This work apparently quotes the inmate of an insane asylum who obviously did very little travelling at all. 28 Proust: Du Côté de chez Swann (Swann’s Way), 1939 Gallimard Press, Paris, vol. 1, p. 256. 29 C P Snow: The Realists – Portraits of Eight Novelists, 1978, Macmillan Press, p. 227. 30 Richard Holmes: Sidetracks, Explorations of a Romantic Biographer, 2005, Harper Perennial, London, pp. 340-341. 31 GeoCentre: Euro-Road Atlas of France, R V Verlag, Germany, Paris maps 221, 222. 32 Roland Barthes: Vintage Barthes: Mythologies, 2009, Vintage Books, London, p. 164. “A long- continued use of the term nation has failed to depoliticize it in depth; the political substratum is there very near the surface, and some circumstances make it suddenly manifest.” 9 creations that bear little resemblance to reality. 33 Myths, as symbolic rather than strictly factual concepts, are often quite incongruous. Nations newly settled by Europeans seeking to escape the social and economic restrictions of the old world often embody contradictory ideals of personal freedom, and the conformity necessary to create a new unified society. 34 Australia, as with other developed cultures, appears to embody myths that are genuinely reflective of the national experience, myths that are idealised notions which may bear little resemblance to reality, and myths that also appear intrinsically self-contradictory. On the one hand, our national mythology embodies the ideal of the bushman, the Man from Snowy River, the hard bitten self-reliant worker in the wilderness; yet from the time of the gold rushes, through the late nineteenth century to Federation, Australia has been one of the most urbanised nations on earth. 35 As Helen Irving asserts; “Statistically, the image of Australia as rural, and the typical Australian as the outback rider or bushman, was far from the truth. But Australians then (as now) were engaged in a romance with the bush.” 36 However, “a romance is never truthful; the feelings it expresses are always out of proportion to the qualities of its object.” 37 Even C E W Bean, the man who did more than anyone to create the bushman digger myth out of the First World War Gallipoli campaign, had to acknowledge that fewer than one quarter of Australia’s military forces in the war actually came from country 33 Roland Barthes: Vintage Barthes: Mythologies, p. 169. Allowing for Barthes dogmatism: “The function of myth is to empty reality.” Perhaps myths can empty reality, just as they can embody reality. 34 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, 2006, Verso Press, London, pp. 194-195. “Hence, for the members of what of what me might call ‘second generation’ nationalist movements, those which developed in Europe between about 1815 to 1850, and also for the generation that inherited the independent national states of the Americas, it was no longer possible to ‘recapture the first careless rapture’ of their revolutionary predecessors.” 35 Australian Bureau of Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, 1908, Commonwealth of Australia, McCarron, Bird & Co, Melbourne, p. 158. J A Lyne: Greater Melbourne, Cambridge University Press, 1967, London. Note the map on p. 18. showing that Melbourne’s population as a percentage of that of Victoria had grown from 26% in 1861, to around 40% at Federation, to 60% at the time of the great post Second World War migration boom. James Hagan: Europe and the World since 1815, Longman Cheshire, 1967, Melbourne. Note p. 17, and the figures for European nations from 1800 to 1870. Britain was comparable, with urbanisation in all urban areas, not just the capital city, rising from 21% to 50%. Other European nations such as Prussia, France and Russia had only reached 20% or less. 36 Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation – a Cultural History of Australia’s Constitution, 1997, University of Cambridge Press, Cambridge, p. 14. T A Coghlan: The Seven Colonies of Australasia – a statistical account, 1902, Commonwealth Statistician’s Office, Sydney, p. 543. Again, Sydney’s population as a percentage of that of NSW rose from 27.34% in 1871 to 35.90 in 1901, while that of Melbourne rose from 28.27% in 1871 to 41.13% in 1901. 37 Kevin T Livingston, Richard Jordan, Gay Sweely: Becoming Australians - The movement towards Federation in Ballarat and the Nation, 2001, Wakefield Press, Kent Town, South Australia, p. 12. 10 regions, and that in fact, almost as great a number had been born overseas in Britain prior to enlistment. 38 “But in Australia this condition [the superiority of men from country districts]”, he continued, “had become much less marked in the last generation, and the percentage of Australian soldiers who had acquired their powers of determination, endurance and improvisation from country occupations was probably not much more than a quarter.” 39 To what degree did Australia’s myths centring on migration and European settlement also reflect a sense of national reality, either at the time, or with the advantage of hindsight? Rather than being the myths of a quite different and unique people, did Australia’s ideals reflect the aspirations of ordinary settlers from Britain (and other European and Asian countries), who found themselves dealing with circumstances that were indeed new and often unique? As a result, what attitudes developed and changed with these changing circumstances and to what the degree did national myths reflect this reality? According to James Jupp, Australians today tend to pride themselves on living in a tolerant society. 40 Did Australians always wish to think of themselves as being tolerant; and how would they have evaluated this tolerance? Certainly, political leaders at Federation were at pains to emphasise the British heritage of Australia, and to this extent, tolerance was perceived to be a part of this legacy, along with the Westminster system of government, world naval and military authority and industrial and technical leadership. 41 Ironically, racism, or at least racial superiority, 38 C E W Bean: Official History of Australia in the War of 1914-1918, vol. 1, The Story of Anzac, 1941, Angus & Robertson, p. 46. L L Robson: The Origin and Character of the First AIF, 1914-1918, 1973, Historical Studies, p. 745. Some Statistical Evidence. Note table 5 which also demonstrates that primary industry and mining occupations accounted for a little over one quarter of Australian recruits for the First World War, and that almost three quarters of recruits were industrial, commercial and labouring workers from cities and large country towns. 39 C E W Bean: Official History, vol.V1, The AIF in France during the Allied Offensive 1918, 1941, Angus & Robertson, p. 1079. In reality I suspect that the figure would have been far less, depending upon one’s definition of a country or agricultural worker. It could well be argued that country town blacksmiths, abattoir and railway workers, bank clerks and printers had far more in common with city industrial and office workers than with drovers and stockmen, although at the time, many men fulfilled more than one role to earn a living. 40 James Jupp: Immigration, p. 120. 41 The Mercury: 24 May 1927, p. 8. The British Heritage: Truth, Justice and Freedom. “Empire Day and its significance was the subject of a sermon preached at the Memorial Church on Sunday evening by the Rev. P. Binns. Having outlined 'the meaning and purpose of Empire Day, the preacher mentioned that it was owing to the persevering this efforts of Archdeacon Boyce, of Sydney, as a member of the British Empire League, that the movement was introduced in Australia.” 11 was also an integral part of this heritage. 42 Henry Parkes’ famous comment; “The crimson thread of kinship runs through us all” attempted (probably very successfully) to lift the discussion at the 1890 Federation Conference in Melbourne above the more mundane but more controversial issue of internal tariffs and taxation, to one linking the blood of a united Australia with that of the motherland and Empire. 43 South Australian Premier Thomas Playford, added, “Thus the crimson thread of kinship, as Sir Henry Parkes so aptly and poetically termed it, will prove not merely a thread, but will bind us closer than links of steel.” 44 Were there thus contradictions in feelings towards the nation’s British heritage? On the one hand, there was the proud expression of being a member of the most advanced culture in the world, but at the same time was there the fear of being an endangered outpost of this culture? 45 Australian society since the time of first European settlement has been an immigrant culture reliant upon migration as much as natural increase in order to enlarge its population. Many periods in the history of the Australian nation have been marked by a questioning and a concern over the population and the people who were to comprise this increase. 46 As John Gascoigne has noted, “such an organised migration scheme [The Wakefield Scheme] 47 could ensure that appropriate migrants were chosen and that immigration was not simply an exercise, as Wakefield put it in A View of the Art of Colonisation (1849), in ‘shovelling out of paupers’.” 48 The great post Second World War migration boom was also characterised as much by concerns over the kinds of people who were being invited into the country as to the actual numbers that were involved; and this concern has continued to the present day. 49 42 John Rickard: Australia – a cultural history, 1988, Longman Group, London, p. 117. “In one sense racism itself was part of the British heritage, but there is no doubt that the advocacy of White Australia revealed a new and nasty stridency.” Perhaps this was not so new, and not always so nasty. 43 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, p. 364. 44 The Argus: 11 February 1890, p. 4. 45 Gavin Souter: Lion and Kangaroo – the initiation of Australia 1901-1919, 1976, William Collins, Sydney, Australia, p. 52. Such links of steel were more than metaphorical. “The death of the Mother Queen and the break in the shell-burred cable [that had cut communication to Britain on the 28 January 1901] were very symbolic reminders, if such were needed, of how quickly the world could change and how far the bereft daughter was from her ancestral home.” 46 The Sydney Morning Herald: 16 September 1927, p. 10. “A statement by the Commonwealth Statistician shows that Australia’s population from 1881 to 1921 increased by 141.87 per cent compared with an increase of 102.31 per cent in Canada during the same period.” Even in 1927 there was evident the perennial desire of Australians to compare themselves with other similar countries. 47 The Wakefield Scheme was a system of financing selected migrants through the sale of land. 48 John Gascoigne: The Enlightenment and the Origins of European Australia, 2002, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, p. 62. 49 Australian National Development Index: Canadian Index of Wellbeing (CIW) and Measures of Australia’s Progress (MAP) databse, listing Society, Economy, Environment. Whatever opinions or 12 Is it therefore possible to understand the social expectations and cultural pressures at the time of Federation, and also uncover the degree to which the newly created sense of nationhood was either a reflection of society in general or only of those groups accorded the responsibility of recording the event for posterity? One of the significant characteristics of national myths is their reliance upon the available methods of expression and perpetuation. To paraphrase Benedict Anderson’s well known construction; communities are imagined through processes of identification and limited by the boundaries of communication. 50 So, are the created myths perpetuated through the same communication pathways? To what degree are our views of a cultural event from a century ago determined as much by the limitations of the written record as by the actual views expressed within this record? To what degree is conscious testimony limited by being from a limited source and is it possible therefore to add to the analysis of historical events by utilising other sources of material, other research resources and other methods for collating evidence? And will this provide new insights, or simply re-iterate what has gone before? One could argue that how this communication is managed can greatly influence the creation of an identity and the mythologies that guide this creation. I will be analysing the concept of national identity and the imagined Australian community as this was expressed at this specific period of Australia’s history. This will imply both an imagined community and a real community that has not necessarily been represented through the traditional historical process. Since my work will be seeking to investigate alternative and evolving historical processes, this will also include an analysis of the degree to which the role of history has changed over the period of European settlement in Australia and the degree to which this settlement has in turn been reflected by this changing function of history. One could argue that the fluctuations between what might be termed a positivist and scientific methodology, and a more subjective social science approach to both accumulating evidence and writing results, have paralleled the political and social development of Australia itself. This has resulted in the evolution of a philosophy of experience created as a means of accessing a ideas are raised by such think tanks, the over-riding notion appears to be that such concepts of national identity cannot be left to chance. 50 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, pp. 5-6. 13 wider social science attitude to analysing history, and in particular, the process of widening the sources and evidence upon which historical analysis is based. If, as the historian E P Thompson states, “History is made up of episodes, and if we cannot get inside these, we cannot get inside history at all,” 51 then part of the role of the historian would be to uncover new processes for accessing the episodes that have previously been available from more limited perspectives. Thompson’s own work embodies a history that has overlaid new attitudes onto traditional written records. His is reliant upon the written records and literature of the time, and his subsequent evaluation of working class culture is built around court and government reports and newspaper articles; in other words, what writers and recorders regarded as being significant. 52 Are there, however, new attitudes that can be gleaned from a new approach to what actually constitutes historical records? In summary, I will be asking; whose social history is it, and how do we collect and collate the evidence that comprises this history? Helen Irving expresses this sentiment in her own evaluation of Australian Federation and the development of the Australian Constitution. “Although other external factors, particularly economic and technological ones, may in the last instance drive history forward; at each moment, nevertheless, the people who live through it are also trying to make history, if only in their imaginations. Australians cannot understand what they are trying to do now unless they understand what was imagined in the creation of the institutions they wish to reform.” 53 The tenor of my overall aim can best be summed up by E P Thompson’s own well-known justification for his work, recorded in his seminal book, The Making of the English Working Class. “I am seeking to rescue the poor stockinger………from the enormous condescension of posterity…..But they lived through these times of acute social disturbance, and we did not. Their aspirations were valid in terms of their own 51 Edward Palmer Thompson: The Poverty of Theory, 1978, Merlin Press, London, p. 65. 52 Edward Palmer Thompson: The Making of the English Working Class, 1968, Pelican Books, London preface to the 1980 edition, p. 8. 53 Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation –a Cultural History of Australia’s Constitution p. (x). Irving then goes to make a personal rationale of her own: “This is one ‘naïve’ historian’s attempt to contribute to that understanding.” Of course, one could argue that there is also the risk of a teleological fallacy within this argument. The people who are living through an experience are probably not conscious of trying to make history, although in rare instances such the 9/11 attacks on the United States, they are aware of witnessing history as it is being made. However, this does not preclude the fact that people are actually making history all the time, both in reality, and in their imaginative interpretation of what is occurring before them and to them. 14 experience; and if they were casualties of history, they remain, condemned in their own lives, as casualties.” 54 NATION AND IDENTITY Benedict Anderson claims that the nation “is an imagined political community – and imagined as both inherently limited and sovereign”. 55 This community is imagined, at least to the degree that, while most members are not capable of meeting all other people who also regard themselves as integral members, they all still hold the image of this community within their minds. 56 If such societies are therefore a creation of the mind as much as of social and political forces, then what kind of society was being imagined at the time of Australian Federation? Certainly, it would appear that all the pre- requisites for a community claimed by Anderson 57 were present in Australia by 1901: a common language, recognised borders, and the technology and communication infrastructure to make these attributes effective. 58 From this point of view, colonial Australia would appear to have always been a community on the point of becoming a nation. 59 The issue of both the theoretical and the practical creation of a nation was exemplified by the famous comment of Massimo D’Azeglio, then prime minister of Piedmont and one of the fathers of the Italian nation at the time of unification: “L’Italia è fatta. Restano a fare gli Italiani”: paraphrased as, “Italy is made, but we still have to make 54 Edward Palmer Thompson: The Making of the English Working Class, p. 12. 55 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, p. 5. 56 Ed Peng Cheah and Jonathan Culler: Grounds of Comparison – around the world of Benedict Anderson, 2003, Routledge, New York p.21. “It is limited because it is not an infinite grouping embracing the totality of humanity – as was the case with the great monotheistic religions – but a definite group of people separated by clear-cut boundaries from other groups. It is sovereign because it has transferred to the State the notion of an illimited power that originally belonged only to God.” 57 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, p. 15. 58 Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation, p. 31. 59 Shirley Fitzgerald: Rising Damp, 1987, Oxford University Press, South Melbourne, pp. 43-45. Possible sources of friction, such as religious tension between Irish Catholics and the various Protestant denominations and racial tension between white Anglo Australians and non-Europeans were so much overlaid by geographical distinctions between the states as between regions and suburbs within the cities. Note in map1.12 that while large suburban variations existed between Catholics, Irish and Protestants in Sydney in 1891, the myth of all Catholics residing in the most poverty stricken sections of the city did not hold true even then. 15 the Italians.” 60 The Australian nation, however, had the advantage that, at the time of Federation, Australians already existed and now there only needed an Australia to be formally created. As Irving also notes, “The new Australian nation was sovereign in all domestic matters and this, combined with the overwhelming sense at the time that Australians had a distinctive, specifically Australian identity, made Australia a nation.” 61 As one example, Australian time zones have always been taken as those applying to the relevant colonial capitals, due no doubt to both the pre-eminence of these capital cities, and their isolation from one another. 62 Consequently, it was the inter-colonial postal and surveyors’ conferences between 1892 and 1895 that helped pre-empt the political federation of the nation in establishing scientifically accurate time zones based on Greenwich Mean Time. 63 P F Rowland in the Macmillan’s Magazine of the time also opened his article on Australian Federation with a discussion on this notion of relative distance and cultural distance. No two colonies could well have been more dissimilar in origin than New South Wales and South Australia, for example, and it was inevitable that each should desire to mould its own destinies. But if England was prone to underestimate the actual distance, Australia was inclined to ignore the relative nearness of her component colonies…So far as political, social and commercial life are concerned, South Australia, despite those five or six hundred miles is assuredly somewhere near New South Wales. 64 Thus, while Anderson looks to the reduction in distance as a result of modern technology, it is worth noting that this distance can be social and psychological as much as physical and my wider analysis will also investigate this notion of cultural distance between places and people. 60 Massimo D’Azeglio: I miei ricordi – Things I Remember, 1966, Oxford University Press, London p. 311. 61 Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation, p. 26. 62 The Sydney Morning Herald: 24 December 1861, p. 8. Even in 1861, the accuracy existed for measuring variations in time between the Sydney Observatory and Williamtown in Melbourne, as mentioned in the Fourth Annual Report on the Sydney Observatory. 63 However, even with the ability to determine this difference down to 25 minutes, 11.4 seconds between Sydney and Melbourne there appeared little impetus in 1861 to formalise the times. Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation, 1997, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, p. 31. “From 1895 they [the Australian Colonies] also shared, we may add, if not a single time zone, at least standardised clocks based on Greenwich Mean Time,” 64 P F Rowland: Macmillan’s Magazine, Issue 84, May/Oct, 1901, p. 151. 16 As with Australia’s experience of multiculturalism over the last half century, the wider notion of modern nationalism did not materialise without any older foundation. John Breuilly traces the development of an English or British nationalism to the Stuarts and the Reformation, and the sense that it was again conflict with other European powers as much as an innate uniformity at home that contributed to people’s sense of identity “that all this and more strengthened the diffused a sense of nationality: in other words, that national history is a history of becoming more national”. 65 One could argue that where the concept of a unified culture has changed as a result of the industrial revolution has been to widen recognised borders and expand from the political to the social. 66 Therefore, it appeared to be language and language regionalism that provided much impetus to this discovery or rediscovery of the concept of nation and culture. However, this culture and language could only find expression, and even consistency, through the practical development of printing. Anderson asserts that the sense of immortality largely ignored by Liberalism and Marxism, and once offered by religion and dynastic succession, is now imagined within the nation’s creation, with print- capitalism as the primary catalyst for transforming religious language and dynastic organisation through time consciousness. 67 There is no doubt that literacy and communication through the availability of a widespread press has had a strong influence on the development of national consciousness. 68 Interestingly, Michelle Arrow has noted the degree to which radio and television, and now even the internet, have taken over this role through the twentieth century. 69 One of the themes running through my 65 Peter Burke: History and Historians in the Twentieth Century, 2002, Oxford University Press, Oxford, chapter 3 John Breuilly: Historians and the Nation, p. 56. 66 Geoffrey Barraclough: The Times Atlas of World History, 1982, Times Books, London, pp. 115, 128, 129. Note the changes in national borders from the beginning of the nineteenth century and Napoleon, to the beginning of the twentieth century and the First World War. Most borders changed from principalities dependent upon the power and prestige of political leaders to new nations largely bounded by common nationalities and languages. Compare the boundaries of the newly unified Germany with those of an Austro-Hungarian empire that remained a mix of contrived political divisions and racial and linguistic confusion. The still artificial border of the Czech nation, with its large German speaking population surrounding a Czech speaking nucleus would cause problems right up to the Second World War. 67 Studies in Ethnicity and Nationalism: Volume 6 No 3, 2006, p. 74. Mark Hamilton: New Imaginings: The Legacy of Benedict Anderson and Alternative Engagements of Nationalism. Mary Fulbrook: Historical Theory, 2002, Routledge, London, p. 80. 68 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, p. 410. “The colonial press played a crucial role the achievement of Federation…The verbatim recording by skilled shorthand reporter frequently included an indication of the audience response in parenthesis – (Cheers, Shouts etc) – which conveyed levels of enthusiasm to the readers, and also left an invaluable record for later historians.” 69 Michelle Arrow: Australian Historical Studies, 38:130, 2007, p. 244-260. “The most sickening piece of snobbery I have ever heard”: Race, radio listening and the ‘aboriginal question’ in Blue Hills. 17 thesis is this relationship of the press with the community in assessing its support for a Federation and for the kind of federated society this community anticipated. For a formal political outcome to arise, a formal political process needs to be undertaken. However, as in all such circumstances balance has to exist, particularly when attempting to found a new nation on democratic principles. This process can evolve slowly of its own accord or, once the parameters exist, be accelerated through conscious political action. Paul Ignotus, 70 in his description of the formation of the Hungarian nation in the 1770s, again remarked on the significance of language in the creation of a national community. Ironically, this was apparently not through the recognition of the newly emerging prestige of the native Magyar language, which was still viewed as an uneducated peasant tongue. The first political expression of cultural nationalism by the Hungarian elite was initiated by the less than subtle Austrian Emperor Joseph II’s threat to replace Latin with German in the very Catholic country. 71 Only then did the native Hungarian language find a voice. 72 Where Ignotus touches upon my thesis is in his subsequent comment, quoted by Anderson, to the effect that; “A nation is born when a few people decide that it should be.” 73 In terms of community development, I believe that this tells only half the story. While it is often the case that the impetus for independence and national sovereignty arises from small targeted groups of devotees, if the process remains only with these same few people, then the nation will remain still-born. There is a degree of interaction between the drive and expectations of an elite, and the slower, gradual but often more relentless progression of the general population. The decade leading up to the Federation of Australia was characterised by a plethora of committees, conferences and conventions, all attempting to turn the dreams and aspirations of small numbers of enthusiasts into that wide national support required for the successful foundation of a 70 Pál (Paul) Ignotus 1901-1978: Hungarian writer and journalist, and the son of Hugó Veigelsberg (who adopted the pen name Ignotus – the unknown), Hungarian nationalist through the first half of the twentieth century. 71 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, p. 73. 72 Peter Burke: History and Historians in the Twentieth Century. Breuilly: Historians and Nationalism, p. 61. John Breuilly indicates the complexity of nationalism and the error of necessarily supporting the process unreservedly. “The real problems became clear when those successor states were established by the Versailles peace settlement. The revelation that Romanians could be just as nasty towards Hungarians as Hungarians had been towards them;” 73 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, p. 73. 18 new democratic nation. 74 As T A Coghlan admitted; “The Bill of 1891 aroused no popular enthusiasm, and parliamentary sanction to its provisions was not sought in any of the colonies; thus Federation fell into the background of politics. At this juncture, a section of the public began to exhibit an active interest in the cause which seemed in danger of being temporarily lost through the neglect of politicians.” 75 The two major Federation parades could thus be viewed as not only an expression of federated nationalism, but also as a means of further strengthening community support for the on- going political process. HISTORY AND THE COMMUNITY How does this notion of historical myth relate to the evaluation of communities? H P Rickman states that, “History is one of the forms of disciplined research by means of which the human mind satisfies its curiosity and orientates itself in the world. Its subject matter is the human past and the way the present has come about (my emphasis).” 76 History is thus concerned not only with the past, and with human beings in groups and societies, but also how they have been influenced by this past. History is therefore more than a simple academic exercise and Rickman goes on to add; “but history is not a specialised subject of interest only to historians. It concerns us all. We look to it for an understanding of the world we live in, for an illumination of human nature unfolding its potentialities in the course of time and even for some hints about the future which may guide our actions.” 77 As Mary Fulbrook adds, “many historians do not in any event share the view that history is, can, or even should be a morally neutral endeavour.” 78 Simple antiquarianism is acceptable in itself, 79 but in more 74 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, pp. 363-370. Irving lists just the principal and more formal events that took place over the course of a decade: Federation Conference 1890, Federation Convention 1891, Federation Convention 1897-98 and the Federation Leagues at Corowa, Bathurst, and even New Zealand and Fiji. 75 T A Coughlan: The Seven Colonies of Australasia – a statistical account, 1902, Commonwealth Statistician’s Office. Sydney, p. 258. 76 H P Rickman: Meaning in History: W Dilthey’s Thoughts on History and Society, 1961, Allen & Unwin, London, p. 12. 77 H P Rickman: Meaning in History: W Dilthey’s Thoughts on History and Society, p. 13. 78 Mary Fulbrook: Historical Theory, pp. 6, 75. “this claim is, rather, one from a particular situated, viewpoint in the present, and even the very attempt at ‘neutrality’ may be castigated from certain perspectives , as an essentially conservative (my emphasis) ploy.” Fulbrook added earlier that “theory is 19 concrete terms, the study of the past is really justified by its effectiveness in casting a window onto the present. “Historical representations are themselves part of the present, and on this view are inevitably political.” 80 One of the recurring themes through historiography, and one that will form a foundation of this thesis, is the reason as to why historians evaluate the past. 81 If historians attempt to explain the present by analysing the past and analysing those general tendencies of human nature which do repeat, rather than the specific instances which do not, then again we need to ask not only how can we uncover the past but also how can such features of the past be reviewed and effectively utilised for a practical purpose. This will be particularly the case with my thesis, since I will be examining and evaluating two events from the past by going beyond the traditional written reports that, as I have already indicated, are useful in themselves but may be restrictive. Alternative ways of evaluating the past require alternative sources of material. Since this material must already exist in some form, it will need to be extracted from other fields, and integrated into the historical study. New sources may very well imply new techniques to access and utilise this material. If we accept memory as a premise of knowledge, then we infer history from evidence that includes other people’s memories. However, history is contingent on empirical sources which we consciously decide to accept or reject for other versions of the past. Since everything that happened in the past occurred in real time, a truly objective presentation of an event would take as long as the original event itself; assuming that there existed a way of collecting every single action and occurrence. This is obviously not feasible and therefore choice and discrimination enters into the process: what to fundamental to historical investigation, and that even an avowedly non-theoretical approach is invariably a theoretical approach in itself.” 79 Peter Burke: New Perspectives on Historical Writing, 1991, Polity Press, Cambridge, p. 34. Quoting Jim Sharpe: “Even those with a more developed view of the people’s past have not escaped from those charges of antiquarianism which academic historians are so often fond of throwing at their less conceptually or ideologically well-equipped brethren.” 80 Mary Fulbrook: Historical Theory, 2002, Routledge, London, p. 75. Unfortunately this could be construed that history should not be morally neutral when this benefits one particular point of view, but should be when it risks benefitting the opposite viewpoint. One could argue that this is probably the quickest way to undermine any real value history may have in affecting the modern world. 81 Alun Munslow: The New History, 2003, Pearson Education Limited, Harlow, p. 9. Views on just what we can learn from the past have varied over time. “Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht has made this point [the role of Idealism in interpreting historical knowledge] in his book In 1926: Living at the Edge of Time (1997) arguing that only if we cut ourselves off from ‘old and worn out’ ideas about ‘learning from history’ will we be required ‘to think seriously about different ways of using our historical knowledge.” 20 exclude, what to include and what to expand upon. 82 This became referred to as Reconstructionist in that, as Gordon Leff claims, history “is not simply a representation of the world as it was, but a reconstruction of certain aspects of it.” 83 Since all the activities from a particular historical event cannot be reproduced or presented, there is this conscious or unconscious filtering process constantly being employed. 84 “Accordingly,” Leff tells us, “much historical writing consists in analysis and explanation….and the recounting of events is increasingly subordinated to establishing and evaluating them.” 85 Rather than pretending that there is purely objective collation being undertaken, the Constructionist is admitting that this discrimination is ruled by a level of subjectivity, and that by acknowledging this, we are able to evaluate the information that we are assembling with at least some acceptance of the process in our minds. Historians, as Fulbrook notes, “do not start, as it were, with a blank sheet of paper, looking at a selection of historical ‘debris’ and wondering how to ‘emplot’ this into a coherent story.” 86 They are consciously constructing a story from the past using consciously chosen information. John Hirst’s The Sentimental Nation – The Making of the Australian Commonwealth, produced for the Centenary of Federation, stands as an excellent example of using traditional historical sources such as newspapers and journals to tell much of the all-encompassing history of the political and social process that led up to the Federation of the nation. Much historical writing on the Federation of Australia exists at this level. 87 The Deconstructionist historian takes the final step by not only drawing generalisations from the past and asking why things were as they were, 88 but also by questioning the processes of historical analysis itself. Are the ways that evidence is collected truly valid 82 Mary Fulbrook: Historical Theory, pp. 66-67. “The ostensibly weaker claim is actually more subtle and the more interesting one: that there are a whole variety of possible ‘real’ connections, only some of which will interest us sufficiently for us to explore and seek to reproduce them in any detail.” (my italics) 83 Gordon Leff: History and Social Theory, 1969, University of Alabama Press, Alabama, p. 17. 84 David Lowenthal: The Past is a Foreign Country, 1985, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, p. 205. “The concept of historical writing is not just filtering and deciding what to include as history, but the notion of memory as a form of forgetting. As with Tristram Shandy who took a year to recount just the first day of his life, it would take a life-time to record a life-time.” 85 Gordon Leff: History and Social Theory, 1969, University of Alabama Press, Alabama, p. 13. 86 Mary Fulbrook: Historical Theory, p. 67. 87 John Hirst: The Sentimental Nation – The Making of the Australian Commonwealth, 2000, Oxford University Press, South Melbourne. 88 M C Lemon: Philosophy of History, 2003, Routledge, London, p. 296. This can be regarded as Analytic, rather than analytical history: terms that have become rather confusing. 21 and effective? Can this evidence be relied upon to tell us what we want to know? And are we truly certain that the questions we are asking remain valid? Not only are historians analysing the subject matter, they are also evaluating their own attitudes towards this subject matter. 89 History thus becomes not only a process for researching and understanding the past, but also the means by which this information is then passed on to either people in the present time, or society in the future. Most importantly, as David Lowenthal states, “History differs from memory not only in how knowledge of the past is acquired and validated, but also in how it is transmitted, preserved and altered.” 90 Raymond Aron’s notion of the “incoherence of lived experience” 91 in comparison with the coherence of recounted history contrasts with Michael Oakeshott’s attempt to encompass all “in which nothing is excluded, nothing is regarded as non- contributing.” 92 We may attempt to encompass all, but really all that we can include is that which is useful to our specific intended outcome. While I contend that the speculative aspect of the history of Federation has always been comprehensive, 93 the descriptive aspects of that history have been, from an analytic point of view, limited. This leads to the inevitable discrepancy between current and later significance. Events that, at the time, were regarded as important and worth recording, may not later be thought of as significant, while other events that were overlooked or disregarded at the time have come to be considered of paramount importance. Hence, there is often a superfluous amount of material available to research relatively insignificant occurrences, and limited information on those later deemed critical. One could argue that much historical study is, by its nature, deterministic and dependent upon this variation in significance. More research is likely to be conducted where more material evidence is available and more surmising and imaginative interpretation undertaken where less material exists. This implies that research often reflects the interests of the past rather than the re-evaluation in the present. Parliamentary reports on Federation, for example, are readily available, and so the machinations of politicians and twists and turns of colonial governments in the lead up to 1901 are well recorded. 94 The attitudes 89 M C Lemon: Philosophy of History, p. 282. 90 David Lowenthal: The Past is a Foreign Country, pp, 212-213. 91 Raymond Aron: Opium of the Intellectuals, 1962, Secker & Warburg, London, p. 136. 92 Gordon Leff: History and Social Theory, p. 24. 93 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, pp. 1-15. “Imagine Australia in 2001 if Federation had never happened.” 94 NSW State Government: Journal of the Legislative Council of NSW, Session 1900, vol LXII Part 1, William Applegate Gullick Government Printer, Sydney, Australia, pp. 431, 479. Commonwealth of Australia Constitution Act, Federation of the Australian Colonies. 22 of the wider community to the notion of Federation itself, and to the kind of nation that they were expecting to be created out of the Federation process, have been more difficult to judge, and perhaps require a process augmenting the reliance upon written documentation. 95 There is, for example, surprisingly little record of these two principal marches in subsequent descriptions of the Federation process in both Sydney and Melbourne. Tessa Milne 96 and Helen Irving 97 have collated information on the marches in their publications for the 2001 Centenary, but other works either describing the original events and celebrations or guides for the centenary barely mention them even in passing. 98 As a typical example, the Graham Wilcox publication The Struggle for Unity, A story of the Federation of Australia, mentions the numbers estimated to have taken part in Sydney’s celebrations: 250,000 out of a city population of 481,000; and mention of the evening illuminations. 99 However, there is almost no information on the actual marches in either Sydney or Melbourne. Brendan O’Keefe and Michael Pearson’s Federation, A National Survey of Heritage Places, written for the Australian Heritage Commission, does list significant sites such as the Royal Exhibition Building in Melbourne, and other locations such as those in Corowa, and even Henry Parkes’ Federation Oak, 100 but again, no location of significance relates directly to the two parades. This issue of verification becomes critical when there is this discrepancy between the evidence available to the present and events the historian decides to investigate from the past. Restricting deep analysis of the past to those fields retaining a Victorian State Government: Legislative Assembly of Victoria, Session 1900, Vol III, Robert S Brain Government Printer, Melbourne, Australia, p. 645. Papers presented to Parliament for the Federation of the Australian Colonies. 95 Michael Oakeshott: On History – and other Essays, 1983, Basil Blackwell, Oxford, p. 46. Michael Oakeshott makes this point himself: “An historical enquiry emerges in a concern with a present composed of objects (Oakeshott’s term for the events, people and occurrences in an historical context) recognised, not merely to have survived, but as themselves survivals: that is, recognised not as relics invoking veneration, as utterances of notable wisdom or foolishness, as currently useful artefacts or as objects of contemplative delight, but as things in respect of their being vestigial. They are present objects which speak only of the past.” 96 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901. 97 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation. Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation – a Cultural History of Australia’s Constitution. 98 Commonwealth of Australia, Centenary of Federation Committee: 1901-2001 Centenary of Federation, Your guide to Australia’s celebrations, 2000, Commonwealth of Australia, Canberra, pp. 34,48. Even in this kit that was very much aimed at children (as were most other such information kits), there is no mention of the parades and little mention of the original celebrations. 99 Graham John Rutledge Wilcox: The Struggle for Unity, A story of the Federation of Australia, 2014, Ligare Publishing, Sydney, pp. 139,140. 100 Brendan O’Keefe and Michael Pearson: Federation, A National Survey of Heritage Places, 1998, Australian Heritage Commission and Heritage Victoria, Canberra, p. 24. 23 quantity of evidence is often the only way that particular history can be studied, but it should not be thus regarded as definitive. Much of my rationale for an expanded methodology is influenced by the notion of a “History from Below”; itself deriving from the earlier “History from the bottom up” of Frederick Jackson Turner. 101 Although Turner’s 1923 sentiment is a reflection of such widening of historical sources, one could argue that the terminology itself is somewhat limiting and the simple model of a “Social History” 102 would be more accurate. 103 Certainly the concept was used by Jim Sharpe in Peter Burke’s New Perspectives on Historical Writing, although the dangers stated by Tony Judt were also mentioned; “there is no place for political ideology in most modern social history, any more than there was in the sociology from which the latter derived…” 104 One would have thought that the concept of social history itself was political and followed more the earlier mentioned notion of Fulbrook as to whether any history should be a morally neutral endeavour. E P Thompson’s own article in the Times Literary Supplement of April 1966 is titled History from Below, although since his work relates most to labour working history, in this context the term is more reflective of an economic and industrial position. 105 One aspect of this social history development has been, not so much a unifying force for recognition on the part of those who were overlooked (or who believe that they have been overlooked) in past historical documentation, as the subsequent recognition of the complexity and interconnectedness of society. While history may have become more than the parliamentary debates of the elites, it was still these debates that affected the lives of those ordinary people who were the new subjects of historical investigation. If 101 Alun Munslow: The New History, p. 115. 102 Dorothy Thompson: The Essential E P Thompson, 2001, The New Press, New York. Although the heading for section IV, is titled “History from Below”, Thompson himself points out that he never used this term, and also preferred “Social History”. 103 Perhaps “History from Below” reflects the era in which it was initially promulgated, when the notion of social class was being established; remembering too that this was its initial development, without the subsequent century of ideological refinement. The implication that such social history is either below the traditional political history, or that the subjects themselves are below the higher echelons in society would probably still reflect one’s immediate reaction, if not a studied and reflective opinion. Mary Fulbrook: Historical Theory, p. 64. “I would certainly argue that this is more than “those ‘underdog’ histories which consciously, explicitly, with to ‘give back a past’, or give a voice to previously marginalised groups who had been more or less written out of mainstream (‘hegemonic’) histories.” Rather, one could argue that this “new” emphasis is a return to the traditional mythic history of each cultural group from the unique and specific effect of the development of public education through the late 1800s, overlaid with the modern concepts of positivist accuracy and verification. 104 Peter Burke: New Perspectives on Historical Writing, p. 33. 105 Dorothy Thompson: The Essential E P Thompson, 2001, p. 485. 24 the significance of the roles played by citizens and working people had been overlooked in political history, the social history ideal still needs to take into account the political and economic effects of governments and those in authority on the lives of these citizens. 106 Attitudes of Australians to Federation were always pre-empted by the political formalities that occurred at the completion of the two relevant parades. The role of the historian to uncover and interpret the history of society also therefore becomes more problematic, when there is a discrepancy in the material available from such differing sources. These issues are raised by Martyn Lyons in his 2010 article on A New History from Below. “The ‘New History from Below’ is distinctive because it is based on writings from the grassroots and because it focuses on individual experiences of historical change.” 107 While the older traditional coterie was dominated by “the tradition of the French Annales School… and the British neo-Marxist School” 108 and writings about ordinary people, Lyons focused on writings by ordinary people; in this case Italian soldiers living through the First World War. In his review of Lyons longer work, The Writing Culture of Ordinary People in Europe C1860-1920, 109 Paul Pickering also points out the complexity of the issue, where the poor are still considered “lower-class, the poor, the peasant masses”, 110 yet where the wide variations of education becoming available at the beginning of the twentieth century led to equally wide variations in Italian (and French) commoners’ shared experiences and values. Lyons’ Italian soldier’s letters would still need to have been placed within the context of Italy’s role in the First World War to provide anything more than mere written experience. If “the war was to be endured, not resisted and not understood” by the common soldiers in the 106 Mary Fulbrook: Historical Theory, p. 38. Quoting G M Trevelyan, “Social history might be defined negatively as the history of a people with the politics left out [or perhaps the traditional politics left out]…[But] without social history, economic history is barren and political history is unintelligible. 107 Martyn Lyons: A New History from Below: History Australia, 2010 Monash University Press, vol.7 no. 3. The localism and parochialism expressed by the multitude of letters Lyons accessed contrasted with the “Patriotic slogans [that] did not necessarily signify anything but a cursory acquaintance with national priorities or the Risorgimento myth.” 108 Martyn Lyons: A New History from Below: History Australia, vol. 7 no. 3 p. 59.1. 109 Martyn Lyons: The Writing culture of Ordinary People in Europe C1860-1920, 2012, Cambridge University Press, London. “Like the Annales, the British Marxists revolved around a journal – Past and Present – in whose pages the study of the subordinate classes and their political movements were promoted by Christopher Hill., Eric Hobsbawm, E P Thompson and George Rude among others…although they restored a sense of power and agency to the working classes, they were primarily interested in public action rather than private lives. As a result, the actual members of the lower classes in history remained largely an anonymous mass.” 110 Pickering, Paul. History from below: An excellent study of scribal culture [Book Review]. Australian Book Review, No. 357, Dec 2013 - Jan 2014, pp. 34-35. 25 field, 111 then the historian should comprehend more than this, otherwise they are no wiser than the fanti-contadini (peasant infantry) themselves. Again, the experience of the individual is of importance, but it is these shared experiences of the group that can extrapolate to the attitudes of the wider society. 112 A PHILOSOPHY OF EXPERIENCE The last decades of the nineteenth century leading up to Federation became “a moment of intensity, creativity and nationalism which, by the later years, flowed only along the narrowest channels.” 113 It is therefore no surprise that Sherlock Holmes was one of the great literary heroes at the time of Federation. As the quintessential cool calculating deductive (actually inductive) scientist using the latest techniques and technologies, Holmes embodied much of the mood of the era. 114 This application of science to all the field of the humanities created the philosophy of positivism, although this had some less than salubrious consequences. 115 Collingwood, for example, delves briefly into one aspect of my thesis study; the development of the racism that, through the nineteenth century, underpinned many of the attitudes of the newly emerging Australia. 116 As he points out, it was not so much the concept of scientific evolution that was so significant, as Darwin’s imposition of natural selection as the controlling mechanism. 117 Evolution had been a long accepted scientific concept by the middle of the nineteenth century through the work of Jean Baptiste Lamarck and later Alfred Russel Wallace. However, it was the new ‘amoral’ process of natural selection which served to justify amoral attitudes towards non-British and non-European peoples that proved to be anything but equitable. If other races were seen to be subservient, it was now the 111 Martyn Lyons: A New History from Below: History Australia, vol.7 no. 3 p. 59.8. 112 Martyn Lyons: A New History from Below: History Australia, vol.7 no. 3 p. 59.6. The campanilismo or parochial mindedness of a couple of soldiers would reflect their own narrow “visceral attachment, both emotional and physical, to the village.” A similar attitude echoed widely across the whole Italian Army would have reflected a malaise that no doubt influenced the effectiveness of the nation to defend its borders. It would appear that even by the First World War, Massimo D’Azeglio’s “made Italians” were still rarities. 113 Vance Palmer: The Legend of the Nineties. Quoted in Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation – a Cultural History of Australia’s Constitution, p. 33. 114 As an aside, it was also notable that the creator of the private detective, Arthur Conan Doyle, followed that other great advocate of scientific modernism, Federationist and future Australian Prime Minister Alfred Deakin, “a man of deep and eclectic cultural learning” into the contradictory and very non- scientific world of spiritualism. 115 Alun Munslow: The New History, pp. 42, 43. 116 Robin George Collingwood: The Idea of History, 1993, Oxford University Press, p. 91. 117 Robin George Collingwood: The Idea of History, p. 129. 26 natural order of things, since the process of natural selection had naturally designated those in power and those in servitude to be in their allotted positions. 118 The British were no longer ordained by God to rule others; their own elevated position now demonstrated that they were naturally more highly evolved and thus better suited to this role. Such changes in the view of the physical world that evolved through the nineteenth century did not necessarily mean that the human beings who experienced these changes were going to be radically altered. As with most ideologies, positivism contained within itself its own antithesis. Philosophers and writers as wide ranging as Friedrich Nietzsche, Fyodor Dostoyevsky and Wilhelm Dilthey recognised that human beings did not always act according to the expectations of logic, or even their own perceived self- interest. 119 Wilhelm Dilthey differentiated between the natural sciences that relied upon measureable causes and explanations, and the social sciences such as history that relied upon understanding through interpretation. In a way, Dilthey reversed the philosophy of positivism. Rather than scientific ideals and scientific theories determining the interpretation that one puts on the physical world, it is the interpretation of the physical world that then creates explanations and ideals. Dilthey believed through observation and interpretation that each instance exists as an entity in itself, not necessarily as part of an overarching philosophical construct. Every event in the empirical world must be brought about by factors that explain it independently, whether we do or do not actually discover them. 120 Significantly, Dilthey also differentiated between the lived experience of the individual and the concept of shared experienced and shared values if the experience is to be of any wider benefit. 121 Individual opinions may exist, but they are valid only if expressed 118 Charles Darwin: The Descent of Man, 1871 D Appleton and Co, New York, p. 521. 119 Ted Honderich: The Oxford Companion to Philosophy, p. 257. C P Snow: The Realists – Portraits of Eight Novelists, 1978, Macmillan Press Ltd, London, chapt. 4. Although there is not space within this thesis to conduct an involved analysis of Realism, Naturalism and Existentialism, the developments of these philosophies and similar ideas that were in the ether at the time had a powerful influence on many within Australian society at the time of Federation. 120 Wilhelm Dilthey: The Critique of Historical Reason, 1978, University of Chicago Press, Chicago, p. 225. The technical terms that Dilthey used to express these various forms of experience were Erlebnis: for lived experience and specific personal experience that is regarded as unscientific in that it cannot be verified, and Erfahrang: ordinarily but scientifically verifiable experience. 121 Wilhelm Dilthey: The Critique of Historical Reason, p. 226. 27 by many in the group. 122 So should the interpretation of episodes such as Australia’s Federation marches only be viewed as communal? By experience of life I mean these propositions which constitute themselves in a collective circle of persons. They are statements about the nature and course of life, judgements about what has proved to be of value, rules of living, and determination of goals and goods. Their hallmark is that they are creations of a community (my emphasis). And they apply just as much to the life of the individual person as to the life of the community. 123 Dilthey was also asking: how is historical knowledge possible? What are the common features of human life which we can use for the understanding of historical processes and how then do we discover the meaning that situations have, or have had for others? 124 In his notes on hermeneutics, Dilthey begins the evaluation of actual interpretation. “Interpretation would be impossible if expressions of life were completely strange. It would be unnecessary if nothing strange were in them. It lies, therefore, between these two extremes. It is always required where something strange is to be grasped through the art of understanding.” 125 Thus, using such interpretation as a way of getting inside E P Thompson’s episodes implies finding a way to relate this expression and understanding to others. Experience always needs to be mediated through some form of expression that can be interpreted by others; otherwise it remains locked within the mind and inaccessible. 126 Hence, language is no longer simply another cultural construct amongst many, but the only means by which all other aspects of culture can be interpreted. Munslow introduces Plato’s concept of Mimesis; showing or acting as a means of reproducing the past, or one aspect of the past. This is presented as a contrast to 122 Mary Fulbrook: Historical Theory, p. 67. “In short, historians work within collective traditions of inquiry which set certain parameters and puzzles for which they seek solutions …Historians frequently work, whether explicitly or implicitly, within the context of collective ‘controversies’.” 123 Wilhelm Dilthey: The Critique of Historical Reason, p. 227. All is based upon turning the personal into the shared – only then can it be reflected upon by using terms, words and concepts that are common to all in society. 124 Wilhelm Dilthey: The Critique of Historical Reason, p. 225. H P Rickman: Meaning in History – W Dilthey’s Thoughts on History and Society, pp. 64-65. 125 Wilhelm Dilthey: The Critique of Historical Reason, p. 225. H P Rickman: Meaning in History – W Dilthey’s Thoughts on History and Society, p. 77. 126 David Lowenthal: The Past is a Foreign Country, p. 213. “To remember and communicate such a past requires complex and enduring institutions. Hence history must be studied as a social activity…groups define themselves through history as an individual does through memory.” 28 Diegesis, or the traditional narrative telling which has been the basis of both original mythology and the traditional historical presentation. 127 The issue is part of the philosophical consideration of the relationship between the present and the past. 128 If the past can only belong to its future, causes may appear to be related to their effects in ways that were never really the case at the time. So in order to study them from the distance of time, more than simple narrative telling may be necessary. Footstepping emerges as a means of linking these two concepts together by transferring aspects of history that were previously only available through mimesis into the realm of the written narrative through a form of re-enactment. While there is the recognition of the previously mentioned legacy of the positivist approach in the value of collecting information, 129 Collingwood was disparaging of the basic “scissors and paste” approach to history where this is as far as the process goes. However, one could argue that this is a necessary introduction to the process, since it is from this assemblage of facts and reports that can then come the drawing of conclusions. Collingwood went on to develop the concept of historical evaluation as understanding and explaining through the process of re-enactment. He claimed that the simple acceptance of such reports from the past must be critiqued since they can often be unreliable. 130 Hence, he regarded the notion of re-enacting as a means in some way to garner additional source material. 131 Collingwood further claimed that, The historian argues from evidence as opposed to events accessible to our experience. He must therefore do more than present what he discovers; he must in some sense re- invent it with the meaning which it had for the period from which it survives…he has to re-create them inside his own mind, re-enacting for himself so much of the experience of the men who took part in them [experiences from the past] as he wishes to understand. 132 This concept of re-enactment is open to interpretation on many levels. Can we really re- play the evidence in ways that imbue it with the meaning that it had for the period to 127 Alun Munslow: The New History, pp. 173-174. As indicated earlier with the Reconstructionist fallacy of being able to represent the entirety of and event, complete Mimesis has never been a practical possibility and perhaps the post-modernist approach is simply a reflection of this. 128 Fulbrook: Historical Theory, p. 7. 129 Robin George Collingwood: The Idea of History, pp. 126-128. 130 Robin George Collingwood: The Idea of History, p. 282. 131 Gordon Leff: History and Social Theory, p. 25. 132 Robin George Collingwood: The Idea of History, p. 282. 29 which it relates? If so, how can we go about this, and will the results be useful for both the practicing historian and the readers from the present period? What was Collingwood referring to when he spoke of the process of re-enactment in the mind? Is this a physical re-living of an historical event, or purely a mental imagining of the past; a “going over in the mind” of the historian as he or she absorbs relevant information from the era? Certainly it is a process for getting into the mind of individuals or the “collective mind” of communities to analyse their historical actions and beliefs within the context of the times, and it is in this sense that I will be applying the process in my thesis. This will mean essentially applying ethnographic processes from the anthropological evaluation of different cultures in the present to the evaluation of the Australian culture in the past. In other words, we are treating the past as a ‘foreign country’, and the cross-cultural interpretation of the past applies as much to our own culture through this prism of time. This process differs from the current vogue for physical historical re-enactment critiqued by McCalman and Pickering. Dressing up and replaying historical events in modern times in order to “understand” what people were going through in the past, often results in outcomes at variance to what would provide a deeper comprehension of this past. 133 McCalman and Pickering also emphasise John Brewer’s significant quandary; that students of re-enactment need to find a way of dealing with contingency and chance. When re-playing events from the past, be they the Battles of Hastings and Waterloo, or Federation parades through capital cities, the tendency is to teleologically assume that because these events proceeded in an historically recorded way, the outcomes were logically inevitable. Arguments are then proffered claiming that one leader was better than another, or that progress was logically obvious, when weather, bad food or even a political leader’s last minute decision to step from a train to deliver an almost off the cuff speech can have far reaching implications. 134 133 Iain McCalman and Paul Pickering: Historical Re-enactment – from Realism to the Affective Turn, 2010, Palgrave Macmillan, Houndmills, p. 9. The staged re-enactment invariably imposes ideological parameters whereby it is the wishes and expectations of the modern re-enactors rather than the historical experiences of those from the past which can become paramount. Striking miners who, themselves end up winning over Thatcher’s Britain in such staged performances, and even cartoon Confederate re- enactors who end up winning the Civil War, demonstrate this in a poignant form. 134 The Sydney Morning Herald: 25 October 1889, p. 8. Sir Henry Parkes at Tenterfield. “Banquet to the Premier, A Brilliant Reception (by telegraph from our Special Correspondent).” As Helen Irving states, the Herald was the only paper to run the full text of the speech, taking one quarter of the entire page. “Nevertheless, it was enthusiastically received at Tenterfield and almost immediately attracted acclaim among fellow New South Wales Federationists.” Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, 1999, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, p. 429. 30 Therefore, history differs from science in that it cannot be replicated: it relies upon unique facts and evidence for each instance, 135 even evidence that can be inferential. 136 Of course the conundrum arises, in the historical sense, of being able to justify to others that what may appear obvious but unverifiable. So, the process of interpretation flows from the determination of historical information for oneself, and the justification for others of views and opinions that are drawn from this information. Munslow takes a post-modernist stance, which accepts that historians do not come to their topics and their interpretations without a position influenced by previous ideas and life experiences. “Working from the belief that historians ascribe meanings to the past rather than discover its inherent or given meaning,” 137 does not mean that historians artificially create meanings. As mentioned, they still need to justify their interpretations to others. Living through a period gives the researcher a certain level of insight into attitudes that are personal, social in one’s immediate cultural group, and cultural within the wider community and nation. However, these recollections are, by their nature, restricted by both personal bias and the changes that occur in memory over time, and as the sociologist Wilhelm Dilthey would have stated, often invalid as historical interpretations precisely because they are only individual. 138 Without this personal experience though, the researcher is reliant upon the experience of others through writings and reports. And this is where limitations begin to influence interpretation. An individual’s own bias and personal attitudes can be ameliorated by balancing with the opinions of others through written reports of the time, since the attitudes of the wider society and nation are often likely to be reflected in these written records. Collingwood then introduces the concept of repetition of thoughts and ideas as the repetition of the one thought many times. 139 However, I would argue that this is, in the 135 Robin George Collingwood: The Principles of History, 1999, Oxford University Press, Oxford, pp. 5- 8. 136 Robin George Collingwood: The Principles of History, p. 10. Collingwood offers the analogy of a parabola, where, while only a few points may not determine a parabola mathematically, an observer can often inductively infer a parabola before such a mathematical proof exists. Actually, in mathematics it is often the reverse that is the case. A parabola can be mathematically inferred by three points, and determined by four, whereas the human mind often requires more clues that this. 137 Alun Munslow: The New History, p. 2. 138 Wilhelm Dilthey: The Critique of Historical Reason, p. 228. 139 Robin George Collingwood: The Idea of History, pp. 289-290. “It has been shown that an act of thought can be not only performed at an instant but sustained over a lapse of time; not only sustained but 31 historical sense, rarely the case since with each repetition there is an automatic level of refinement that takes place. As Lowenthal has pointed out, memories can continue over time but they are constantly changed and enhanced each time they are repeated. 140 Not only are the implications of the memory often made more evident with each repetition, but the circumstances of the rememberer also change over time. To know someone else’s activity of thinking is possible only on the assumption that this same activity can be re-enacted in one’s own mind. In that sense, to know ‘what someone is thinking’ (or ‘has thought’) involves thinking for oneself. To reject this conclusion means denying that we have any right to speak of acts of thought at all, except such as take place in our own minds, and embracing the doctrine that my mind is the only thing that exists. 141 Here Collingwood’s explanations attempt to clarify the difference between someone else’s thoughts, and the historians’ understanding of what someone else’s thoughts may be. In theory, I do not think that the concept is difficult for either historians or even lay readers to comprehend. What both groups often fail to do is implement the concept in everyday analysis. There is invariably the assumption that what someone a century ago thought about a situation or circumstance is what a modern interpreter believes that they thought, or should have thought. To use the example of my own re-enactment of the Federation marches; retracing these routes in the 1950s would have been a different experience to that in the 1990s, and different again a decade later. Historians would not just be viewing the route half a century and then a century later, but would be bringing to bear their own experience of post-war immigration and post-White Australia multiculturalism. Memories can continue of course, but as Collingwood himself stated, when we understand another’s thoughts from the past, we are really refining them and converting them into thoughts of our own. 142 Where Collingwood does take the next step is by looking for an effective method for analysing another’s thoughts in ways that can be revived; not only revived in the experience of the same mind but (on pain of solipsism) re-enacted in another’s.” 140 David Lowenthal: The Past is a Foreign Country, p. 206. “Memories are also altered by revision. Contrary to the stereotype of the remembered past as immutably fixed, recollections are malleable and flexible; what seems to have happened undergoes continual change.” 141 Robin George Collingwood: The Idea of History, pp. 286-288. 142 Robin George Collingwood: The Idea of History, pp. 289-290. “Since the thought as re-enacted is now our own, and our knowledge of it is limited to our own present awareness of it as an element in our own experience.” 32 utilised through analysing their actions. Again, the logic becomes obvious. We cannot get inside the minds of other people today, let alone back in a distant historical period, so the only thing that we have to go on are their actions, and their expressions of action in writings and sayings. And since these writings and sayings can be intentionally or unintentionally deceptive, and since history is, ultimately, the interpretation of actual events, we are forced back onto analysing actions. It is here that Gilbert Ryle takes the concept even further. Just historians are ultimately children of their time, so too are social scientists. Gilbert Ryle was born in 1900 and followed R G Collingwood as Waynflete Professor of Metaphysical Philosophy and Fellow of Magdalen College Oxford in 1945. He thus belonged to the first generation that, in the Western tradition, was able to consciously consider a physiology as well as a philosophy of the mind. Until the beginning of the twentieth century, philosophy of the mind remained just that: thinking, surmising and pondering the thought processes that were as physically unattainable as they had always been. It was from the medical demands of survivors of the First World War, and the massive technical developments that arose from the Second World War that the first real physiology of the mind arose. It was into this ferment that Gilbert Ryle published his seminal work The Concept of Mind (1949). Ryle took the positivist scientific view to its logical extreme, and removed Descartes’s duality of mind and body, replacing it with simply the physiological reality of the physical body. Ryle rejected the notion of the mind as the “Ghost in the Machine”, claiming that what we refer to as the mind is merely a particular category of expression. 143 According to Ryle, the mind does not exist as an entity at all, but rather is merely the visible expression of thoughts and ideas. 144 It is Ryle’s subsequent notion that we can assess only by abilities that are demonstrated, and by actions that can be viewed before us that relates back to my thesis. 145 The 143 Gilbert Ryle: The Concept of Mind, 1949, Hutchinson & Co, London, p. 15. 144 Gilbert Ryle: The Concept of Mind, pp. 20-23. In many ways, this issue now appears to be one of semantics. For Ryle, the mind does exist, but not as a unique entity with a life and expression of its own but as the expression of the individual. Intelligently doing something does not consist of two operations: the mental and the physical components are the same operation. We therefore judge the mental “mind” aspects of an operation by the physical expression, and the skill in interpretation is the skill in evaluating these expressions. 145 Gilbert Ryle: The Concept of Mind, p. 46. Ryle gives the example of the drunkard playing chess. A drunk or incompetent chess player may inadvertently make a move that bewilders and defeats a grand master. Most people viewing the game would realise what was happening, but just how would the 33 implication is that when we describe someone’s actions as, for example, intelligent or stupid, we are not portraying what is going on in their minds, but what can be observed in the physical world. 146 As this affects historical interpretation, Ryle is partially right, in that with the example he offered, we can see what Napoleon did, and what Euclid wrote, but we have no way of directly observing what was really going on in their minds. 147 However, this does not mean that they did not really have minds with thoughts running through them; only that, through the lack of evidence passed down the centuries, we do not know what these thoughts really were. It is where he begins to investigate the actual process of observation that Ryle’s ideas again become useful to the historian. Not only is the physical world the only world that can be observed by others, irrespective of role of the mind in creating action, but importantly, the way that we observe this physical world is dependent upon the cultural concepts that we have absorbed. Observation has two components: the visual looking and the intent to find out something. Observation is initially base upon sensations that automatically arise from the object itself: “sensations are neither observable nor unobservable”. 148 However, their results definitely can be observed, and this intentive observation is very much dependent upon social norms and expectations. Such observations and recordings thus need to be placed into some kind of formal context, again preferably within a community, and here Ryle introduces the concept of established codes. ‘Looking at something’ means using a cultural category that others can readily understand. The observer must have some knowledge and appreciation of what they are witnessing; in other words, they must be able to put this into context. 149 It is here that discrepancies can arise in analysing activities that have taken place over the distance of a century. In describing what we are seeing, we have to employ terms that spectators know what was really happening? According to Ryle, the mind does not exist as an entity at all, but rather is merely the visible expression of thoughts and ideas. 146 Gilbert Ryle: The Concept of Mind, p. 52. This appears to be valid at one level, in that we cannot get inside the mind of another individual, so have to rely upon the visible expression of these thoughts and ideas in order to evaluate them. However, as with many responses to ideas of the past, there appears to be an over-reaction; “throwing the baby out with the bathwater” in that, by assuming we cannot directly know thoughts except by their expression, the notion of a mindful thought itself does not exist. 147 Gilbert Ryle: The Concept of Mind, pp. 52, 58. “Overt intelligent performances are not clues to the workings of minds, they are the workings.” Or perhaps they are all that we have to go on. 148 Gilbert Ryle: The Concept of Mind, p. 206. 149 Gilbert Ryle: The Concept of Mind, p. 54. Whether the observer needs to have a level of psychological training is mentioned, although apparently not essential. 34 we know and can relate to in our own past experience in an attempt to adequately describe our observations. 150 After all, it is ultimately the effectiveness of the description that is going to convert the experience into history. OBSERVATION AND INTERPRETATION Once an experience has been observed and analysed, either through direct experience or through the process of re-enactment, it then needs to be interpreted in order to be utilised and transmitted. 151 Rather than these ideas and concepts remaining locked within the individual mind, and therefore of only theoretical interest, they need to be brought out into the world of practical experience where they can be of practical benefit. Wilhelm Dilthey is therefore asking, how is such historical knowledge possible? What are the common features of human experience that we can use for the understanding of historical processes? How then do we discover the meaning historical events have, or have had for others? 152 Does this type of observation really convey the relevant information clearly to the spectator? 153 It is in attempting to answer these questions that the practical applications of Clifford Geertz become relevant. 154 Geertz adopted the techniques that Ryle advanced for evaluating actions in the psychological and philosophical spheres, and adapted them to the social sciences through the process of interpretive anthropology. 155 Their value lays not so much in the actual methodology, which is still theoretical, as in the overall attitude and approach. By asking new questions rather than giving definitive answers, Ryle and Geertz’s concept of thick description provides a valid intellectual framework 150 Gilbert Ryle: The Concept of Mind, p. 203. 151 H P Rickman: Meaning in History- W Dilthey’s Thoughts on History and Society, p. 65. As Rickman demonstrates with a concrete example; “a person mowing the lawn does not try to communicate anything, yet he clearly conveys to the spectator ‘what is in his mind’.” 152 H P Rickman: Meaning in History- W Dilthey’s Thoughts on History and Society, pp. 64-65. 153 M C Lemon: Philosophy of History – a Guide for Students, 2003, Routledge, London, p. 327. Lemon also presents the example of a woman gardening. While it is relatively easy to see what she is doing (although viewed from a distance or through the palings of a fence, even this may not be obvious), reasons and implications are not that straight forward. Is the gardening being done primarily to create a garden, or for exercise, or as an excuse to get out of the house? A bored but knowledgeable professional gardener may plant a garden as part of his job, but a garden that lasts and thrives, while an enthusiastic amateur may put much effort into planting a totally unsuitable garden that dies in a month. 154 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, 1973, Harper Collins, London, p. 5. “If you want to understand what a science is, you should look at the first instance not at its theories or its findings, and certainly not at what its apologists say about it: you should look at what the practitioners of it do.” 155 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, chapt. 1. 35 for such interpretation. This theory was itself part of the reaction against positivism and the scientific fallacy that the observer is objective and detached from both the immediate outcome of their research and from the wider sociological context in which the research is taking place. 156 Geertz significantly noted that “the realisation (or perhaps it was only an admission) that socio-political thought does not grow out of disembodied reflection, but ‘is always bound up with the existing life situation of the thinker’ seemed to taint such thought with the vulgar struggle for advantage it had professed to rise above.” 157 Here Geertz’s principal statement guiding his interpretation becomes significant. Believing with Max Weber, that man is an animal suspended in webs of significance that he himself has spun, I take culture to be those webs, and the analysis of it to be therefore not an experimental science in search of a law, but an interpretive one in search of meaning. It is explication that I am after, construing social expressions on their surface enigmatical. 158 Thick description itself is concerned with attempting to unravel the thoughts and reasons behind activities, since this is the only way that analysis of activities can be used to extrapolate other activities in the future. An individual may commit an action for any number of reasons, and while that action can be most accurately described at the time, the various reasons behind a particular action will invariably affect any future reactions that result. For the social scientist, this is surely a significant reason to undertake the study in the first place. Thick description, as implemented by Clifford Geertz, sought explication and illumination rather than implication, by gleaning insights that actually went beyond those consciously available to the participants themselves. This is therefore taking E P Thompson’s notion of getting into episodes one step further by attempting to not just describe the episode and explain what is happening, but now trying to understand the rationale behind the episode. In practical terms, Geertz’s own ideal becomes a guiding principle. “Anthropologists [and Historians] don’t study villages; they study in villages…” 159 Applying this to my thesis would imply that a 156 Ted Honderich: The Oxford Companion to Philosophy, pp. 519, 520. The instance of Karl Mannheim’s concern over the influence, and often not recognised influence of the observer’s or recorder’s personal background and heritage on their interpretation. “Social thought expresses rather than explains human life…The task of theory is therefore to understand what people think about society rather than propose hypotheses about it.” 157 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, p. 194. 158 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, p. 5. 159 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, p. 22. 36 footstepper does not study the Federation of the nation in cities; they study marches through cities. For the historian, the application of Geertz’s and Ryle’s concept of thick description provides not so much a process for investigating culture itself, as the question of whether we can apply this process to a community or culture, not in the present, but from the distance of a century. The examples provided by Ryle and Geertz revolve around issues such as winking, and the questioning as to whether an observer can tell a wink from an inadvertent twitch. 160 These issues are of course significant for both a social science observer in the current world, but would be more difficult for an historian viewing events one step removed in the past. Katherine Hoffmann 161 also reflects on Dilthey’s earlier notion that such interpretation needs to be that of the community rather than the individual. While this was applicable to sociology in a place like Morocco, where most of the population were illiterate, and therefore were reliant upon anthropologists to have their culture interpreted for the outside world, 162 it would be more so in the case of history where there is the added discrepancy of time. 163 Geertz’s process of thick description is applied in his own works, through sociology and anthropology, in the present; 164 however, when applied to the past, Ryle’s concept of established codes becomes more relevant. 165 We cannot ask a community directly for verification of an inference that we have drawn, and even less so from the distance of a century, so can we indirectly utilise common expectations from today and overlay them onto the past? If culture is what we see and hear occurring within a community, then the effectiveness of our evaluation is dependent upon the 160 Gilbert Ryle: The Thinking of Thoughts – What is ‘Le Penseur’ doing? 1968, University of Saskatchewan, Saskatoon, pp. 2-4. Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, p. 6. 161 Katherine E Hoffman: Interpreting Geertz, The Journal of North African Studies vol. 14 nos. 3, 4 September/December 2009 p. 418. 162 Katherine E Hoffman: Interpreting Geertz The Journal of North African Studies vol. 14 nos. 3, 4 September/December 2009 p. 419. “As I want to argue here, however, the metaphor of culture as text is not only a literary metaphor, but also a literacy metaphor. It seems to presume that we, whoever we are, share an orientation toward the practice of writing and the nature of texts…Geertz’s attendant claim was that culture is public and evident in human behaviour (influenced by Wittgenstein’s belief of language as public): ‘Culture is public because meaning is’. Even belief, then, should be understood through the practices that it shapes and thus there is no need to get inside the heads of the Other (as if that were possible).” 163 Gilbert Ryle: The Concept of Mind, p. 21. 164 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, chapt. 1. 165 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, p. 6. “The winker is communicating and indeed communicating in a quite precise and special way: deliberately to someone in particular, to impart a particular message, according to a socially established code, and without cognizance of the rest of the company.” Taken from Gilbert Ryle: What is ‘Le Penseur’ doing? 1968, University Lecture 18, University of Saskatchewan. 37 effectiveness of both our collating and describing what is happening within a society and our analysis of what we believe are the reasons behind these activities. As Fulbrook says: “We may agree with those hermeneutic theorists, following the insights of anthropologists such as Clifford Geertz, who claim that at least one (though not necessarily the only) task of historians must be to seek to understand ‘rule guided behaviour’ and hence to redescribe the past ‘in its own terms’.” 166 Such interpretation reflects the three levels of historical experience that the researcher brings to the investigation of past events. There is the immediate and personal recollection, where this exists; followed by that of the social and cultural group to which the researcher belongs; and finally, the often further removed level of the wider society and nation. Geertz’s own organisation of analysis follows a similar pattern, with his first order interpretation relying upon the veracity of community members living within a particular society. 167 Second and third order interpretations are anthropological in nature, but still rely upon being in the present. 168 The classic example provided originally by Ryle, that of the sheep raid in central Morocco in 1912, 169 is presented as example of the complex and convoluted way that cultures can operate, and thus the obvious difficulties facing social scientists in trying to comprehend the thick description behind them. However, this complexity may only be apparent to an outsider precisely because they are an outsider. To a local, the whole lead up to the sheep raid and its aftermath may have been perfectly simple and logical. Consequently, a significant issue of intellectual conflict can arise. The notion implicit with many anthropologists such as Geertz is that only the locals truly appreciate their culture, and that it is up to the external observer to discover this knowledge. 170 166 Mary Fulbrook: Historical Theory, p. 85. 167 However, are they often too close for objective evaluation; so close that they often do not notice the established codes under which they operate? 168 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, p. 15. Geertz’s own concept of the varying orders of interpretation can appear to be a little confusing, if only because the graduations from one to the other both overlap, and are dependent upon circumstances. According to Geertz, a first order interpretation is made by a local or native who has complete knowledge of his or her own culture; a second order interpretation is made by informants with local knowledge who relate this knowledge to a professional; while third order interpretations are made by anthropologists and professionals from their own observations. According to these definitions, my analysis of the Federation Parades will primarily be third order interpretations, with some second order information. I will be relying upon my own observations of an “exotic” culture, along with the written records of a perhaps restricted group of locals and inhabitants of the time. 169 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, pp. 7-9. 170 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, pp. 9-11. Again, the concept of established codes, and the notion that “Culture is located in the minds and hearts of men” does not necessarily imply that they are conscious of this in the way that an outside professional may be. 38 However, this can be at variance with reality; one can also be too close to a community and a culture to see it with objectivity. In many instances is it precisely the stranger who comes into a culture from the outside who is able to appreciate aspects that are missed or dismissed by the locals. It is often the fresh eyes of this outsider that can open up insights that are too close to home for the residents. Edmund White puts this most succinctly; “In fact, one can make a good case that only foreigners can properly judge a contemporary [scene or person] – distance gives the objectivity that time will eventually provide even to compatriots.” 171 Further, White’s quote from Pierre Bourdieu in many respects foretells the anticipated effectiveness of my research process: “Foreign judgements are a little like the judgements of posterity.” 172 We are thus presented with a paradox. Those present at an event within their own culture often comprehend what is actually occurring more accurately because this is their own culture, but often do not recognise wider implications that are obvious to an outsider, again precisely because they are not outside observers. My specific historical investigation of Australian society through the thick description of the two major Federation marches will also consciously contend with this dilemma. Comparison between the parade in Sydney and that in Melbourne will, by its nature centre on reconstructions of the events of the past, but from two different perspectives. With the former, I will be returning to a city that I remember and still comprehend to a fair degree. In the latter, I will be researching a new location where not only the geography is new, but also many of the social cues. The more informal physical and certainly cultural geography of Sydney will be contrasted to the relative formality of Melbourne. The degree to which the cultural aspects of the marches themselves reflected this physical topography and the degree to which my own experiences respond to these distinctions will thus also form an integral part of my methodology. This all implies a filtering process over not only the information available, but in my case, also through the filter of time. My thesis will therefore be partially concerned with the process of deciding which aspects of the past to include. This process will, hopefully, be conscious, since I am not looking at Australia at the time of Federation in 171 Edmund White: The Flâneur, 2001, Bloomsbury Publishing, London, p. 28. This is precisely the paradox that I am exploring, and attempting to resolve, in my thesis. 172 Richard Shustermann: Pierre Bourdieu: A Critical Reader, 1999, The Social Construction of the International Circulation of Ideas, Blackwell, Oxford, p. 221. Quoted in E V Ramakrishnan et al: Interdisciplinary Alternatives in Comparative Literature, P P Raveendran: Literature as Supermarket: Mapping World Literature Today, p. 59. 39 order to simply describe the events that took place at the time, or even to debate the notion of Federation itself, but rather to use the Federation of the nation to investigate the kind of nation that Australians at the time were intending to consciously and unconsciously create. How to analyse this in practical terms will raise issues that have long been present in the philosophy of history through the concept of re-enacting the past in the mind of the historian. These have been extrapolated from the physical sciences to social science by philosophers such as Dilthey and Collingwood. By utilising Clifford Geertz’s adaptation of Gilbert Ryle’s anthropological theory of thick description I will, again, journey not so much to a foreign culture in the present as to my own culture in the past. MARCHES AND ARCHES Since I will be footstepping the routes of the two principal Federation parades through the street of Sydney and Melbourne and investigating and analysing non-literary sources, I will be attempting to put into words ideas and concepts that were, at the time, expressed in ways additional to conscious historical reportage. I will therefore need to consider the significance of marches and commemorative arches themselves. According to the Oxford Dictionary of the English Language, the Pocket Oxford Dictionaries of Greek and Latin, and the Heritage Illustrated Dictionary of the English Language, 173 both the words March and Arch have ancient Indo-European roots that have generally retained their meanings to the present day. The word March has an interesting derivation, although not through the obvious (if only in English) similarity to the word Arch. The Indo-European root for this term is merg, meaning border or boundary. From this, we obtain words as wide ranging as margins, demarcation, merge and mark. There is thus the twofold concept of the border, and the defining of the border by walking around it: markon; to mark with footprints. In Britain, the Welsh Marches were the lands established and patrolled during the Middle Ages to mark out the border of the “civilised” world. There is also the more ominous old French root of 173 Oxford University Press: The Oxford English Dictionary, 2001, Oxford University Press, Oxford. Oxford University Press: Pocket Oxford Classical Greek Dictionary, 2002, Oxford University Press, Oxford. Oxford University Press: Pocket Oxford Latin Dictionary, 2001, Oxford University Press, Oxford. William Morris: The Heritage Illustrated Dictionary of the English Language, 1975, McGraw- Hill International, New York, p. 1529. 40 marcar: to seize, with the possible additional notion of marking out for conquest. The notion of beating the bounds to demarcate an area; militarily, politically or culturally continues this concept. Hence, a march is not simply a parade that is conducted to celebrate an event. There is a more substantial demonstration of political strength and power, and the formal marking out of a route or region over which one is making a political and military claim. The route itself becomes as significant as the composition, since possession is being formally taken of all places passed by, and all places contained within the established boundaries. As will be analysed later in my thesis, it was also the areas and districts that were left off the routes, and thus symbolically sidelined from inclusion in the new nation, that were often as significant as those areas integrated through the formal marching process. Arch comes from the integration of three related roots. The source word arkw means bow and was contemporaneous with the complementary root arw, arrow. 174 This seems an obvious reflection of the shape and structure of both the original and current physical forms. Just as a bow bends without breaking in order to create the force to fire an arrow, so an arch bends as a means of transferring its massive force to the ground without collapsing. There is thus the sense of both stability and power, and it would appear to be no coincidence that the word is also closely aligned with the other root, ark: to begin and to rule. Words such as archon, archive, archbishop, and the older Indo-European aryo: lord, ruler, compound the physical description with a social and political purpose. There is thus the strong concept of power that is derived not just from brute force but from a sense of entitlement. It is obvious why Roman generals and even French emperors should wish to ennoble and legitimise their often blatant deeds of brute force with structures of such solid permanence. It therefore does seem strange that all the arches constructed to commemorate as momentous an event as the Federation of Australia should have been so temporary and then so quickly dismantled (in the case of those that did not actually fall down of their own volition). Tessa Milne, in her Centenary of Federation booklet found it “difficult to comprehend that those formidable arches ….were not great architectural feats, but 174 William Morris: The Heritage Illustrated Dictionary of the English Language, p. 1506. 41 mere ‘shams’ of their ancient counterparts….” 175 In truth, there was apparently a proposal to replace the temporary Commonwealth Arch in Park Street Sydney with a £12,000 permanent structure, including a museum, at the site, but this fell by the wayside. 176 Instead of one arch to stand for all time to commemorate the creation of the Commonwealth, there were multiple temporary structures designed to include as many aspects of the cultural milieu as possible; yet all to come down once the celebrations were over. Milne also makes the comment that, to many today, it seems just as strange that people at the time should have adopted what is a very old world classical form of “high Victoriana” to celebrate the then most modern newly established country in the world. 177 Is it possible that Australians in 1901 were not thinking of themselves as a new creation in a country only one hundred and thirteen years old, but rather as part of a cultural continuum that stretched back millennia? Arches were thus a very common means of celebrating and commemorating great civic events throughout the European world of the nineteenth and early twentieth century. Again, their invariably temporary nature also masked often questionable and problematic themes. Milne mentions the 1901 Royal Tour of Christchurch in New Zealand; part of the same tour that included the May Melbourne Federation celebrations in Australia. The local civic fathers came up with the novel concept of promoting both the agricultural wealth of the south island and the newly developed techniques of refrigerated transportation by erecting an arch of ice and frozen sheep carcases. 178 The local New Zealand Herald apparently thought the result gave “a disappointing appearance, looking bare and tawdry”. 179 At least the frozen sheep were beyond care in terms of comfort. The suffering of other live animals such as “cows, horses, sheep and poultry housed in additional arched towers” 180 can only be imagined. The cultural representation of arches used in so many of the commemorations at the time also lent itself to its own form of pointed social commentary. Cartoonist Livingston Hopkins, or “Hop” from The Bulletin, drew an illustration titled “The Arch 175 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 3. 176 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, p. 333. 177 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 3. Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation – a Cultural History of Australia’s Constitution, p. 9. “But they were assembled out of everyday materials, most were decorative and picturesque, rather than stern and classical, and none was permanent.” 178 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 7. 179 The New Zealand Herald: 24 June 1901, p. 6. 180 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 7. 42 of the Unemployed” at the time of the establishment of the Federal parliament in Melbourne. 181 This imaginary structure comprised towers of the unemployed poor, with half a dozen working men on top holding a banner that read “Remember Lazarus the First Unemployed”. 182 As an aside, “Hop” was also one of that small but influential number of Americans of liberal persuasion who was to have a disproportionate influence on Federation era Australia. 183 As stated, such public displays to commemorate special events have been used for millennia, although often adopting the most up to day technology available at the time. With the visual sense being so strong in human beings, the availability of artificial light during the nineteenth century changed forever the nature of public performance. The use of candles and then gas lamps to portray images on screens dates from the mid Victorian era, with Anita Callaway quoting instances of light and illusion being employed in Collins Street Melbourne to commemorate the marriage of the Prince of Wales in 1863: “Light was the key factor in creation this illusion…” using the newly developing technology of gas illumination behind material and paper transparencies. 184 Callaway earlier alludes to the use of what was then the most up to date technology for earlier celebrations in the colonies of New South Wales, Victoria and Van Diemen’s Land. 185 That night time events included the risky use of candles and thin paper transparencies would have added to the rarity of such occasions and hence the heightened sense of uniqueness and also other-worldliness. Even today, while night events may attract more people and create more excitement; many sense a lack of legitimacy, as though people feel that they are being somehow manipulated and that the outcome lacks suitable formality. 186 Night and artificial light remain the preserve of fantasy in both a negative and positive sense. 187 While placing questions over the 181 The Bulletin: 11 May 1901, p. 17. 182 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, pp. 12, 13. 183 B G Andrews: Livingston York Yourtee Hopkins, Australian Dictionary of Biography online, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, Canberra. It is a little ironic that Hop’s biographer should then claim that “though his political satire was racy and irreverent, it lacked toughness;” 184 Anita Callaway: Visual Ephemera, 2000, University of NSW Press, Sydney, p. 52. 185 Anita Callaway: Visual Ephemera, 2000, University of NSW Press, Sydney, po.23-26. 186 Chris Jenks: Visual Culture, 1993, Routledge, London, United Kingdom, p. 152. As well as commenting on the English Victorian gentry’s visitation to dark working class enclaves as a form of entertainment, Jenks also expands to reflect on the general parallel between darkness, degradation and “dangerous delights”. 187 Anita Callaway: Visual Ephemera, 2000, p. 52. Even today there is still this distinction between the emotional and slightly risqué night-time artificially lit activity and the formality of day time and the objective glare of the sun. Night football and the night time racing of cars and horses are extremely 43 veracity of serious activities, night and dark also paper over many of the social distinctions that exist in the clear light of day. The Argus, for example, went out of its way to emphasise the egalitarian effect of the lighted celebrations for the Prince of Wales’ wedding; “Not one class but all – artisan and merchant, labourer and civil servant.” 188 Consequently, although many of the supplementary displays centred on lighted streets and displays, the two principal Federation marches themselves were still conducted in the clear light of day. In an interesting period touch, the visiting English journalist Edward Frederick Knight later wrote about, “finding Melbourne’s [Federation] lights so brilliant as to attract “the attention of the Martians (my emphasis) and startle them.” 189 This one sentence perhaps as much as anything establishes Australia’s Federation in the modern era. It was only two years earlier, in 1898, that author H G Wells had published the science fiction novel The War of the Worlds, describing an invasion of Earth by Martians. Science Fiction researcher Mike Ashley states that “It was left to H G Wells to develop the popularity of the invasion-threat novel by having the ultimate invader, the Martians, in The War of the Worlds.” 190 With the outbreak of plague in Sydney only two years later Ashley’s comment on the ending of Wells’ imaginary invasion is rather pertinent. “Wells has an ace up his sleeve, though, when the Martians fall victim to disease, the smallest microbe achieving what humanity failed to do.” 191 As with the earlier The Time Machine (1895), the science fiction clearly demonstrates how close the Federation period was to our own era, and our modern view of the world. The concept of having marches to celebrate or commemorate momentous events has some history in Australia, although it must be said, less so than other cultures. One could argue that traditionally Australians are uncomfortable with such public performances. As the writer for The Argus quipped, “Young Australia was not stiff and military. It was informal, hatless and shoeless. Australian statesmen did not display attractive and thrilling spectacles, but the more ‘serious’ events of grand finals, grand prix and Melbourne Cups generally still revert to the daylight hours (although, for how long?). 188 The Argus: 12 May 1863, p. 5. 189 E F Knight: With the Royal Tour, 1902, Longmans Green, London, p. 111. 190 Mike Ashley: Discovering Literature – Romantics and Victorians, British Library database. 191 Mike Ashley: Discovering Literature – Romantics and Victorians, British Library database. 44 their Imperial honours. Those who became pompous and official or took themselves too seriously were laughed at.” 192 While there are isolated unique events welcoming home successful sporting stars and teams or military forces, Australia tends not to have many annual parades although, Anzac Day, St Patrick’s Day and Moomba parades do come to mind. 193 Therefore, the significance of the two Federation parades was actually their uniqueness as events intending to commemorate the singular political union of the nation. By its very nature, this was only going to occur the once, so that any successes, or more importantly failings, could not be amended the next year. The processions may therefore have been compared with other similar events in other nations or the individual colonies, but not, as happens with Anzac Day marches, for example, with the previous year’s parade. Gavin Souter continued the analogies with other unique social conventions and rituals, likening the events on 1 January 1901 to both a marriage and an initiation: Like the real tribal initiation that took place during the weeks between the Inauguration and the opening of the first Federal Parliament 9 May 1901…The Aranda coming-of age ceremony in Central Australia….a succession of shock-absorbing, status- confirming rites…associated with many totems. While the coming of age and social maturity of the nation grew slowly and relentlessly as the maturity of a person, marriage is a singular activity that can define the rest of one’s life. 194 Irving furthers the metaphorical allusion by even quoting the anti-Federation (or more accurately, questioning Federation 195 ) former premier of NSW George Dibbs: “that this [the first referendum campaign] was not like an ordinary election, but more like a young man taking to himself a wife ‘for better or for worse’”. And that marriage, unlike Federation “…would allow a man to get rid of his wife if such a thing was expedient.” 196 So there was certainly the recognition of both the significance and the 192 The Argus: 2 January 1901. Quoted in Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation – a Cultural History of Australia’s Constitution, p. 9. 193 The Age: 4 November 2013 online. Thousands flock to city for Melbourne Cup parade. “The Australian belief in having a fair go and everyone having a fair chance. So whether it’s a battler who’s bought a horse on the cheap or the richest man in the world who’s trying to win the Melbourne Cup in the handicap they all get a fair go." 194 Gavin Souter: Lion and Kangaroo – the initiation of Australia 1901-1919, p. 31. 195 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, p. 356. 196 Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation – a Cultural History of Australia’s Constitution, p. 7. 45 permanence of the process on the part of those who both supported and opposed Federation. MAPPING AND PHOTOGRAPHY Since my footstepping process will be following the well planned and well-marked routes of the two marches, mapping both the original parades and my latter day research will form an integral part of my thesis. The Federation of Australia took place before the advent of the automobile as the ubiquitous form of private transport and consequently many street maps of the time were of a quality and an accuracy that would be quite unacceptable today. Although effective enough for reference (particularly the ones in the press marking out the routes of the parades) their production was poor and reproduction even worse. Anderson spends time discussing the development of mapping in Thailand through the nineteenth century, and the way that this later development would have paralleled its earlier evolution in Europe. “Only in the 1870s did Thai leaders begin thinking of boundaries as segments of continuous map line corresponding to nothing visible on the ground but demarcating an exclusive sovereignty wedged between other sovereignties.” 197 This complements my earlier discussion on the notion of the march pacing out the political boundaries of a newly imagined nation in ways that predated the print technology of mapping. The imagining of the mapped landscape is thus as reliant upon print technology as the written word in newspapers and journals. Just as the availability of printing techniques are required to imagine such new political orders and their boundaries, so the technological requirements of motorised transport have compelled the creation of road maps that actually do correspond to what is visible on the ground, and therefore leave far less to the imagination. While not overtly political, these maps do reflect strong cultural expectations in what their designers and publishers consider to be significant enough to include. The decision whether to include either named or unnamed churches, and named or unnamed private and state schools are certainly cultural decisions that could be regarded as political. While earlier road maps only found it necessary to include roads, railways and suburbs without even the scaling necessary to easily find 197 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, p. 172. 46 locations, 198 later street directories now include both scales and keys on each page to accommodate the expectations of a totally mobile society. 199 I have therefore relied upon later street directories that, although a mere one or two decades distant provide much clearer graphics, while still indicating the roads and streets as they existed in 1901. 200 My current day footstepping was also guided by current day street directories for Sydney and Melbourne, 201 since these reflect the reality of the city that I actually experienced as I walk the routes. Since this thesis is comparing process and methodologies between the two cities, with Sydney relying partly on my own memories of the city from the past, I referred to an earlier 1988 Sydney street directory. Due as much to graphic clarity as any other reason, I also decided to utilise the maps from this 1988 Sydney Street Directory and the 1993 Gregory’s 2 nd Edition Melbourne Compact Street Directory 202 as the general location guides in the photograph volumes of my thesis. While a couple of decades out of date in terms of some city buildings, 203 these maps give the clearest illustration of the routes taken by the two marches. I have also relied upon the Sands’ Directories for both Sydney and Melbourne: 1900 for Sydney and 1901 for Melbourne, to locate specific premises along the routes of the two marches. 204 Information for these directories were collected door to door by Sands’ Agents, published between 1858 and 1932 and paid for by advertising in the directories. 205 Consequently, while open to error, they were all encompassing, giving entries for every number in each street and even the individual residences and businesses in multi storey and commercial premises. They therefore give the clearest 198 Gregory’s: Sydney Street Directory 1934, 2006, The Australian Book Guide Company, Sydney. Anderson Gowan: Melbourne Street Directory 1921, 1921, Anderson Gowan, Melbourne. 199 UBD Australia: UBD Sydney Street Directory 2000, 2000, Universal Press, Sydney, Australia. 200 Gregory’s: Sydney Street Directory 1934. Anderson Gowan: Melbourne Street Directory 1921. 201 Gregory’s: Sydney Street Directory 2011, 2010, Universal Press, Sydney. UBD: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, 2008, Universal Press, Melbourne. 202 Gregory’s: Sydney Street Directory (Maxi) 1988, 1988 Universal Press, Sydney. Gregory’s: Melbourne Compact Street Directory 1993, 1993, Universal Press, Melbourne. 203 The most notable changes evident in the Sydney Directory over the intervening twenty four years are the blank spaces at Darling Harbour evident of the time taken to come to some arrangement over the fate of the Barangaroo site, and the marking of the original Moore Park location of Sydney’s Showground. This site is of course now Fox Studios, with the Showground moved to Homebush Bay. 204 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, 1900, John Sands, Sydney, Australia. Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, 1901, Sands & McDougall, Melbourne, Australia. 205 Paul Convey Randwick Historical Society: Sands Sydney Directory – an Introduction to its use database. 47 and most accurate listing of both residential and business addresses of the time. The role of these directories would eventually be taken over by the telephone white and yellow pages and by commercial street directories thirty years later in the era of the 1934 Gregory’s. A central aspect of my footstepping approach to this historical investigation was also the photographic record, since this provided the most effective method of recording the geographical and architectural aspects of my thesis. Whatever other non-literary sources of evidence I may be uncovering through my footstepping approach, I still needed to record the results of this research in a traditional form, through the written report and discourse of my thesis, and through a photographic record of the two Federation parades. There were three interconnected forms of photograph used to accompany the text of my thesis: those taken during my footstepping the parade routes, the original 1901 images of the parades themselves and the arches along the routes, and also general images of the two cities taken around 1900 indicating not only specific sites either along the routes but also those close to the routes that covered specific issues raised within my thesis. The two volumes of the photographic booklet are intended to be read as historical documents in themselves as well as supplementary to my thesis. Therefore, I have cited the accompanying photograph book within my thesis by volume and page number, since the photographs themselves contain additional caption material and information. Historical photographs are referenced within the caption texts, while those taken during the footstepping process are numbered for reference according to my photographer’s proof sheet listing. I would claim that the inclusion of such photographic material has a chequered career in historical discourse, being both a valuable source of additional information but also mistrusted; reflected in the fact that few academic histories contain more than a smattering of photographs or drawings. While Peter Burke has stated that: “Photographs are never evidence of history: they are themselves the historical,” 206 there is some recognition that a level of blatant subjectivity can be present. For example, Burke goes on to include Sarah Graham-Brown’s discussion on the significance of the variation between original sepia prints and later black and white and full colour photographs: “a 206 Peter Burke: Eyewitnessing – the Uses of Images as Historical Evidence, 2001, Reaktion Books, p. 23. 48 soft sepia print can produce a calm aura of ‘things past’, while a black-and-white image may convey a sense of a harsh reality.” 207 However, for the press, the role of the photographic image can become inverted and actually lend a greater degree of authenticity to written articles. As Peter Burke states: Newspapers have long been using photographs as evidence of authenticity. Like television images, these photographs make a powerful contribution to what the critic Roland Barthes has called the ‘reality effect’. In the case of old photographs of cities, for example, especially when they are enlarged to fill a wall, the viewer may well experience a vivid sensation that he or she could enter the photograph and walk down the street. 208 In this, the footstepper and geographical historian is adopting more the role of the journalist when relying on either images themselves or image laden thick description. “For their part, urban historians not infrequently use paintings, prints and photographs as so as to imagine and to enable their readers to imagine the former appearance of cities,” 209 In adopting the complementary inclusion of photographs I was assisted by my wife, photographer Patricia Casnave. It was, in fact, the knowledge that I would be able to call upon Patricia’s expertise in architectural and historical photography that I chose to analyse the two Federation marches using methodological approach. Other photographic influences have been the Australian photographers Harold Cazneaux and Max Dupain. Harold Cazneaux, was very much a creative and artistic photographer, so while his work may not accord directly with the requirements of my thesis, his principle that the “photographer must be in accordance with all nature’s moods, he must feel the very spirit of the scene if he is to be successful,” 210 provided a guide to approaching the geography of a scene with a feeling for landscape. Max Dupain took more of an objective scientific approach, and is perhaps closer to the ideal of the historian. There is both the desire to present an accurate record that can be entrusted with the role of a verifiable record, and the historical concept that there is a social purpose behind the 207 Peter Burke: Eyewitnessing – the Uses of Images as Historical Evidence, p. 22. However, this may well be a modern sensibility in an era when we have both formats, as well as colour prints, and are thus able to distinguish amongst the different options. 208 Peter Burke: Eyewitnessing – the Uses of Images as Historical Evidence, pp. 21-22. 209 Peter Burke: Eyewitnessing – the Uses of Images as Historical Evidence, p. 85. 210 Helen Ennis: Cazneaux, the Quiet Observer, 1994, National Library of Australia, Canberra, p. 29. 49 photographic exercise. “Modern photography must do more than entertain; it must incite thought and, by its clean statements of actuality, cultivate a sympathetic understanding of men and women, and the life they create and live.” 211 My methodology to uncover and evaluate the kind of imagined Australian community that was represented through the two major Federation parades has therefore been able to combine the practical process of footstepping with the interpretive analysis of thick description through the additional recording of the sites and locations that I viewed and visited. I have also utilised the process of researching the written record for additional social and historical perspectives and for comparing with my own research and results. Just as individual diaries and personal records were employed by Richard Holmes as the practical initiators and motivation for the research into his individual biographical subjects , so I integrated the experiences of the cities of Sydney and Melbourne and their communities through the press and historical commentary to the analyse the biography of Australian society. The newspapers of the day essentially became the diaries of those communities that Wilhelm Dilthey considered to be the foundation of the historical process. Evidence was thus further collated through the photographic record of the era with geographical and architectural photography used as part of the recording process, resulting in both a written and visual evaluation of the two principle parades through the two largest Australia cities a century ago. 211 Jill White: Dupain’s Sydney, 1999, Chapter & Verse, Sydney, end cover reference. 50 SYDNEY FEDERATION PARADE 1. ARRIVAL IN THE CITY My footstepping in Sydney commenced with my arrival in the city, early in the afternoon of 16 November 2008, just as the new spring warmth was beginning to rise up through the city. The bus had left Canberra earlier that morning with the heat of an inland drought lying upon the countryside. Over the next three hours, as it journeyed north east and joined the Hume Highway, the dry grasslands became greener and the damp of early morning fog slapped against the windscreen. The land became more mountainous, with the cool rugged forests of the Southern Highlands dropping down steeply to the foggy rivers and creeks giving a hint of what the whole region must have been like a century ago. We drifted down onto the coastal plain and soon arrived at Campbelltown; the industrial outskirts of Sydney. New tiled roofed houses crept over the hills, dusty corrugated iron factories and glaring reflections from the windscreens of Commodores and Falcons in the used car lots now filled the old paddocks that had once fed the colony of Sydney. 1 Grass that had originally spread across farms and wide fields now struggled to poke out from the gravel between cracked concrete footpaths and dusty gutters. As the bus hummed eastward, it began retracing, in reverse, the development and expansion of the city that had taken place over the previous two centuries of European settlement. The twenty first century now blended back into the 1960s as the houses became older, and the storage yards smaller. Rows of cars and building timber were replaced by containers of imported cartons and rusty scaffolding. The proud industrialisation that had expanded from Federation to the 1970s was now in retreat, leaving behind empty sheds and piles of disused pallets. The Bankstown district east of the Georges River had been opened up after the Second World War; with the fibro and weatherboard cottages used to house both the returned servicemen, and the first influx of post-war migrants. These were also the first bands of suburbs that were defined by 1 Grace Karskens: The Colony – a history of early Sydney, 2009, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, pp. 286-287. Even from the era of the early escaped cattle at Cowpastures and the Macarthurs at Elizabeth Farm, the district had been a vital agricultural region. 51 the motor car rather than by public transport, and the first to be then demolished to make way for the expressways that have become the city’s means of coping with the automobile. The bus continued on, entering Canterbury, and what were the outskirts of the city a century ago. The aptly named Federation and late Victorian bungalows now struggle to retain a foothold among the new units and town houses as more and more people seek to take advantage of the closeness to the city centre and the original public transport networks. Commercial lots disappeared with wide roads replaced by bus lanes and railway stations, and the hot dusty haze became clearer as coastal breezes filtered in through the streets. Ironically, it is at this very point where the original pre-automotive city actually commences, that the new M5 South Western Distributor suddenly dives into the tunnel that now redirects traffic from Bexley Road to the airport and the inner metropolis. After diverting through Mascot Airport, the bus now entered the closed cramped streets of the inner west. At the time of Federation, the central ring of suburbs from Waterloo and Redfern to Leichhardt was changing from the original comfortable suburban fringe into slums for the poor. Industrialisation was filling the streets with factories, brick pits and railway yards, and the grand multistorey villas and terraces were being divided up into lodging houses. The broad vistaed balconies were crudely boarded up as their original residents moved out to new commuter suburbs such as Strathfield and Hurstville. 2 Now it is the industrial workers who need to follow the factories as they move out to Campbelltown, while the great grandchildren of the original middle-class suburbanites are coming back. The terraces that I remembered being derelict were now shining with fresh paint, new iron roofs and recast lace, with the rusting old Holdens that had filled the narrow streets running back from the main roads now replaced by shiny new Audis and four wheel drives. 3 2 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, 2000, University of NSW Press, Sydney, pp. 69-71. Note the 1935 Labor Daily report given by Labor Premier William McKell, titled Evils of Slum Areas. He singled out Redfern Paddington, Newtown, Glebe, Pyrmont, Balmain, Alexandria, Waterloo and Botany as “the State’s most important problems”. Some of these suburbs are still in transition and others now contain some of the most sought after and expensive real estate in the city. The Sydney Moring Herald: 4 November 1939, p. 18. McKell, now as leader of the opposition, again claimed that “the slum problem had been ignored too long.” 3 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 207. Access to the harbour is also one of the limitations placed upon many of the previous inhabitants of the newly gentrified suburbs. 52 The bus finally arrived at Central Railway Station and I began the short walk along Elizabeth Street and up Wentworth Avenue to my hotel on the southern edge of Hyde Park. This whole district around Brickfield Hill, south of the Central Business District, would also have looked remarkably different at the time of Federation. After fifty years of deliberation, the decision had finally been made in 1900 to construct a major rail terminus for the city. 4 The site chosen had unfortunately been used as the Devonshire Street Cemetery, and so, as the planning progressed for the Federation march to traverse College Street and Oxford Street on the ridge above, planning was also underway for steam trams below to remove the 1,145 bodies for reinterment in Botany Cemetery. 5 Wentworth Avenue also did not exist at the time; but more of that later. I was more concerned with making it up the hill and settling into the Hyde Park Plaza. This residence was itself an interesting relic from my own past. The three towers that now occupy the College Street block from Oxford Street back to Sydney Grammar School were built in the late1960s, early 1970s; about the time that I was leaving school and leaving the city for teacher training in the country. Sydney then was in the throes of high modernism, both architecturally and socially. The pattern of uncontrolled change that had been evolving during the post Second World War era had come to fruition, with the destruction of more and more of the Victorian sandstone and brick buildings that had been crisp and new at Federation. The belief that the new is superior and the old is passé had extended to the social fabric and, along with most other young people at the time I absorbed this ideal, to the degree that I cannot now remember what actually occupied our hotel site prior to its construction. The much older inner city Victorian professional residences would have been long gone; but replaced by what? 6 Once settled into my room, I decided to fill in the brief remainder of the afternoon by strolling around what had always been my favourite quarter of Sydney, the eastern edge of the city. 7 The city of Sydney has, from the beginning, been defined by hills and gullies, and the ten kilometre curved sandstone ridge running from Enmore and 4 Sydney Evening News: 6 January 1902, p. 6. The New Railway Station to cost £400,000. Although the usual blow-out had occurred between the April 1900 decision and estimate of £233,000 and the greater amount two years later, newspaper articles still concentrated on the “Stateliness and Beauty” of the design. 5 David Burke: Making the Railways, 1995, State Library of NSW, Sydney, p. 140. 6 This cultural amnesia must be rather general since, even with research, I have not found any mention, or complete images of the buildings that predated the current hotels. However, there is a glimpse of what existed at the time of Federation in the Photograph Booklet vol. 1, p. 91, with the three storey building on the left occupying the corner of what will become the Hyde Park Plaza. 7 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 3. 53 Newtown to Surry Hills, and eventually through Bondi Junction and Charing Cross to the heights of Randwick, has long divided the city between the old industrial plain stretching to Botany Bay and the wealthier slopes to the harbour and coast. The Federation parade itself was defined by this landform as it followed the crest of the ridge along the major thoroughfare of Oxford Street. 8 Over the intervening decades, this city end of Oxford Street has morphed from the quality clothing district between the wars to a cluster of 1960s Mod wine bars, then to the city’s gay strip, to seedy abandonment, and finally back to a sort of inner urban normality. Massage and tattoo parlours were now replaced by hardware stores and home improvement shops, mirroring the hip young as they matured into family oriented mums and dads. Even some of those icons of modernism that had been so new and revolutionary in my youth, no longer held the same attraction. The moving footpath from the Domain car park to St James station, now half a century old, appeared as a rattling and jarring anachronism, continuing to lumber along with an arthritic stagger, perhaps because no-one can afford to dismantle it. 9 There is even talk of demolishing the epitome of 1950s modernist progress; the Cahill Expressway, although while this still squashes itself across the top of Circular Quay, the rusting crumbling concrete cancer eating into its supports may yet make such discussion superfluous. 10 The recently deceased Harry Seidler had constructed one last phallic flourish in Darlinghurst, 11 but few seemed to be following his lead, and his Blues Point Tower had again been voted the most unpopular building in the city. 12 The frenetic destructiveness from four decades earlier now seemed calmer in the architectural sense, although the hustle and bustle of the streets was as hectic as ever. The push toward the new and the modern still exists, of course, but has itself pushed westward, and is now filling colonial Parramatta with the same bland concrete and glass that had been the case earlier in the city centre. 8 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 3. The original map of the Federation Parade route follows the end of this sandstone ridge. 9 Photograph booklet vol.1, p. 4. The route of this footpath is visible on the lower current map, in the Domain, just below the red title: Sydney. 10 Parliament of NSW: Legislative Assembly Hansard 15 Sept 1994. 11 Harry Seidler and Associates: Horizon Apartments Forbes Street Darlinghurst database. 12 The Sydney Morning Herald: 28 September 2002 online. Towering Ambition: Blues Point Tower. Kilsby Australia: Urban Design database, quoting amongst others, the poet Les Murray. “I hate that building, I really do. It's an ugly piece of rubbish.” 54 The large and ornate Victorian era government offices in Macquarie and Bridge Streets meanwhile had been transformed from actual working institutions, to empty and discarded shells, now to restored hotels and convention centres. But at least they and their streetscapes still survive. The point where the original 1901 march, and my re- tracing of its route commenced; the eastern sandstone side of the city, remained almost identical to how I remembered it in the 1960s, and remarkably similar to how it would have appeared in 1901. That the Federation parade should have taken this route a century ago was still as obvious today as it would have been then. It was also obvious that the principal celebrations for the newly Federated nation should have been planned for the city of Sydney. Although from 1861 to 1901 Sydney had been eclipsed by Melbourne in population and civic wealth, 13 this city was the site of the original European settlement in the nation, and the mother colony to most of the others that arose later. At the time of Federation, the ending of convict transportation and the awarding of self-government itself was only half a century in the past. Even today there is a strong link with this colonial past in the fact that the city itself was never formally christened. Governor Phillip designated the location of the new settlement “Sydney Cove” after Lord Sydney, Secretary for the Home Department, which at the time administered colonial affairs. The land around the harbour, known then as Port Jackson, was declared the County of Cumberland, with the intention of eventually naming the settlement “Albion”. 14 This never occurred. Phillip continued to send his dispatches back to Britain headed “from Sydney Cove”, and eventually just “from Sydney”; and the name stuck. From the very beginning, the town, and then city, was haphazard and unplanned, with a disordered approach to survival that it retains to this day. While staid, deliberate Melbourne may adopt the affectation of ideological anarchy in fashion, radical politics and theoretical sociology, Sydney lives it every day in chaotic roads, public transport that exists on the point of collapse and political shenanigans that would make a Byzantine emperor green with envy. 13 Deborah Tout-Smith: Melbourne, a City of Stories, 2008, Museum Victoria, Melbourne, p. 54. 14 The Sydney Morning Herald: 25 February 1933, p. 8. 55 2. COMMENCEMENT OF THE MARCH It should be remembered that the marches investigated and analysed in this thesis were only two major events from a full half a year of celebrations through 1901. In Sydney there was the Federation march, or Inauguration Parade that led to the formal proclamation of the new nation on 1 January 1901. This was followed by a smaller parade a week later and then another celebrating the Royal Visit later in May. The Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York (later to become King George V and his consort Queen Mary) had again been welcomed by the city of Sydney en route back to Britain, via New Zealand, after opening the first Australian Parliament in Melbourne. 15 This Melbourne event was also accompanied by two major, and many minor, processions through the southern city. There were also parades through the other major cities of the nation, and even various suburban locations in Sydney and country towns had their own celebrations to commemorate the momentous events. My footstepping therefore followed a similar pattern. Although primarily based on retracing the main Sydney and the Melbourne processions, their routes have been returned to at various times to both add to the specific interpretation, and to accommodate a retracing of the marches closer to their original time of the year. While most of the Sydney analysis was done during the November 2008 visit, the process was repeated in early January 2011. The later investigation was primarily to review the march at the same time of year as the original, and to time an uninterrupted walk along the entire route, including out to the location of the Federation pavilion in Centennial Park. This compared well with the weather as it was experienced in 1901, since the initial footstepping was undertaken during a drought, as was the original parade, while the later exercise occurred as the hot mid-summer city was daily threatened with showers and rain, again as was originally the case. 16 My initial retracing of the march began the day after my arrival, as the new warm sun was again beginning to heat the city. The mornings were still crisp and cool, but by mid-morning the dry glare was bouncing off the glass walls of the skyscrapers. A long drought had shown no sign of abating, and for people living in the city, rain was no 15 The Sydney Morning Herald: 6 June 1901, p. 6. The Duke’s Departure. 16 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, 2000, The 1901 Centre University of Technology, Sydney, p. 22. 56 longer an unfortunate incident to be tolerated, but a longing on the horizon that now rarely eventuated: and so it was in 1901. Then too the fin de siecle drought had gripped the land, although as if by divine intervention, Federation brought relief. The nation had, in most places, been under some level of drought since 1895. 17 In Victoria through the 1890s, that colony had to import wheat from California for its own bread consumption, 18 no doubt reinforcing the new state’s preference for an economy based on protected manufacturing rather than an agricultural industry open to the vagaries of the weather. In fact, it was the burden of the then longest drought in the short history of European settlement on the continent that was one of the many pressures pushing the colonies to federate. 19 However, in Sydney one can always rely upon a blustery summer storm to clear the dust from the city’s throat. The Federation parade would take place a couple of weeks into what had become a steamy and humid summer, punctuated by thunderstorms and drenching rain. 20 Storms and rain had soaked the city on the evening of the procession, and authorities were concerned that their impact would be more severe than merely causing the paint and plaster on the arches to run. However, as if the gods were indeed smiling on the celebrations, the sky cleared at 9:00am, and held off until 3:00pm that afternoon, as the last of the formalities at Centennial Park concluded. 21 Although photographs and drawings of the protected crowd in the city show clear hatted heads, those of the ceremony at the Park indicate a sea of umbrellas. 22 No doubt these would have been protection against not only the mid-summer sun, but also the still anticipated possibility of rain. Earlier that day the Federation march had assembled in the Domain, between the back of State Parliament House and the partially constructed Art Gallery of NSW, with of course, no Cahill Expressway blocking the geographical connection to the Conservatorium of Music, the Royal Botanic Gardens and Government House. The imposing NSW State Art Gallery that dominates this eastern end of the Domain was 17 Alessandro Antonello: Learning and Settling – An Environmental History of the Federation Drought in New South Wales 1895-1903, 2007, MA thesis, Australian National University. 18 Geoffrey Blainey: A Land Half Won, 1995, Pan Macmillan, Sydney, p. 353. 19 The Sydney Morning Herald: 30 July 1884, p. 4. Federation. “A resident of Melbourne writes to the Pall Mall Gazette on May 2…Mr Service did not fail to bring the subject of Federation before the trades delegates.” Even at this early stage, Federation was seen as a bulwark “against drought, hardship and debt:” 20 The Age: 2 January 1901. Containing many weather references. 21 ABC: Australia’s Centenary of Federation, 2001, ABC. 100 Years’ program notes, p. 2. 22 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 9. 57 initially conceived back in 1871 when the NSW Academy of Art was formed under the chairmanship of Thomas Sutcliffe Mort, a gentleman who will feature more than once in this thesis. 23 Mort was an integral figure in the development of the colony of NSW through the mid-nineteenth century. The successful, Lancashire born businessman had made his fortune from 1843 as the first successful wool broker and auctioneer in the colony, and his list of industrial, social and cultural achievements would comprise a thesis in itself. 24 Industrialist, miner, broker and very busy developer, Mort saw earlier than most the potential for what had been a penal colony to become a great centre of British civilisation. 25 At the time of his establishment of the NSW Art Academy, the mercurial Mort was also developing the problematical technology required for the refrigerated transport of meat to Britain. As a patron of the arts, he built his own public art gallery in his home, “Greenoaks”, at Darling Point, but died in 1878, before the permanent colonial gallery could be constructed in the Domain, and also just before the first successful shipment of frozen meat arrived in Britain. 26 Walter Liberty Vernon’s current gallery itself spanned the Federation era, being largely constructed in 1896, but still being completed in 1901. 27 Although sensing a strong connection to the new nation, and caring enough to go through the protracted process of Federation, 28 Australians still appeared to feel the strong lure of British civilisation. The Art Gallery façade glories in its classical motifs intricately carved in the local honey coloured sandstone, with the more recent, and no doubt necessary, modernist extensions hidden embarrassingly down the slope to the rear. This connectedness to the culture of the ‘old country’ continued well after Federation, 29 as noted by the 1905 Frederick Pomeroy statue of the Scottish poet Robert 23 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 5. 24 And has done so: note Alan Barnard’s thesis and biography: Visions and Profits – studies in the business career of Thomas Sutcliffe Mort, 1961, Melbourne University Press and Oxford University Press. 25 Alan Barnard: Thomas Sutcliffe Mort (1816-1878), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University. 26 Alan Barnard: Thomas Sutcliffe Mort (1816-1878), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 27 John Haskell: Haskell’s Sydney, 1983, Hale & Iremonger, Sydney, p. 28. 28 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, 1999, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, pp. 8-15. 29 The heady mix of romantic independence and the strong sense of British cultural nationalism were well expressed by P R (Inky) Stephensen in his 1935 essay: The Foundations of Culture in Australia - An Essay towards National Self-Respect, 1986, Allen & Unwin, Sydney. “Culture in Australia, if it ever develops indigenously, begins not from the Aborigines, who have been suppressed and exterminated 58 Burns, still holding pride of place on the current Art Gallery Road. 30 The poet Henry Lawson himself would later footstep the same location the evening after the popular unveiling: 31 Grown tired of mourning for my sins- And brooding over merits- The other night with pucker brow I went amongst the spirits; And I met one that I knew well: “Oh Scotty’s Ghost, is that you? And did you see the fearsome crowd At Robbie Burns’s statue? The Domain itself, or as it originally was gazetted, the Public Domain, remains as the great meeting place for the residents of Sydney, although the ease with which one side of it was resumed for the Cahill Expressway demonstrates the fragility of public ownership in Sydney’s rather avaricious culture. Many of the large Moreton Bay figs around the Domain’s borders were there already in 1901. In 1848 the newly arrived director of the Botanic Gardens, Charles Moore, travelled to northern NSW, where he was apparently so impressed by the local Moreton Bay fig as a branching shade tree, that he began the wide ranging planting of the species around Sydney. 32 Most of the trees in the Domain would have dated from this point, although trees were still being planted decades later. 33 The cumulative effect of so many trees having been planted at the one time has led to the dilemma where they are all now approaching the time when they will have to be replaced. The recent public concern over the need to cut down a (sic), but from British culture, brought hither by Englishmen, Irishmen and Scotsmen throughout the nineteenth century………We inherit all that Britain has inherited, and from that point we go on – to what?” 30 The Sydney Morning Herald: 31 January 1905, p. 6. “An interesting event of the holiday [30 January 1905] was the unveiling of a statue of the Scottish Bard Robert Burns in the Domain…by State Governor Sir Harry Rawson. There was an attendance of several thousands of people, but owing to the inclemency of the weather [again], the proceedings were abbreviated…” 31 Henry Lawson: Poetical Works, 1979, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, p. 189. Robbie’s Statue 1905. Photograph Booklet vol. 1, p. 6. 32 City of Sydney: Significant Tree Listings online database. 33 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 8. In fact, Camdenville Public School retained a spreading shade tree until the 1980s that must have been planted a century before, when the school was established. There was even a large landmark fig tree standing outside the Department of Public Instruction in Bridge Street that was illuminated for the Federation celebrations with modern electric lights. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 7. 59 number of these trees behind State Parliament House would no doubt explode should most of the trees in the Domain suddenly need to be simultaneously removed. 34 The 1901 Federation Parade commenced at 10:00am on Tuesday 1 January 1901. There were mentions of the parade not setting off until 10:30am, 35 although this may have been the experience of some of those close to the actual event, since the whole march actually took some seventy minutes to pass any one location and so many participants would not have left the Domain until more an hour later. With the five miles, or just over eight kilometres, to Centennial Park taking a brisk ninety minutes for the initial contingent in the parade, the whole procession would have expanded to more than two hours, not even allowing for the formal ceremony at the end. It is no wonder that The Daily Telegraph mentioned the need for urine bottles. 36 In keeping with this requirement, apparently, “the Government had thoughtfully provided [at Centennial Park] some dozen or more standpipes with a full head of water laid on, and with large galvanised iron tubs to catch the waste water….[and] no fewer than seven hundred pannikins which were placed loose with the tubs.” 37 This was to satisfy some forty thousand spectators at the park, not counting the participants who would have arrived hot and bothered from the march. By now most of the estimated five hundred thousand spectators would also have been assembled along the route within Sydney. Forty thousand of these were claimed to have been accommodated just in formal seating along the city section of the route. 38 Planning for the events had been well underway for over a year, with Premier Sir William Lyne eventually appointing an organising committee originally of 50 members. “The Premier informed a ‘Herald’ reporter last night that he had not as yet appointed the members of the proposed Federal Ceremonial Committee…’The fact is,’ remarked Sir William Lyne, ‘that I am perfectly overwhelmed with applications for persons who desire to serve on the committee, and it is very difficult to make a selection’…” 39 34 The Sydney Morning Herald: 10-21 April 2004 online database. Botanic Gardens stymies council’s attempt to save doomed fig trees. 35 The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 January 1901, p. 15. 36 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 11. 37 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 11. 38 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 14. 39 The Sydney Morning Herald: 11 October 1900, p. 7. Federation, The Ceremonial Committee. 60 For such an august event, it was rather worrying that the Citizens’ General Committee, or Citizens’ Commonwealth Committee as it was sometimes referred to, should have then been given essentially only two months to prepare for the parade. Even by October 1900 members of the committee had not been appointed, indicating that much of the preparation was intended to be left in the hands of individual community organisations. This committee was therefore intended to be quite representative, with the plan being for the city to be divided into blocks and that “the citizens on them should add their names to the committee and that the committee be asked to appoint sub-committees to arrange the blocks.” 40 “The Premier informed a Herald reporter last night that he had not yet appointed the members of the proposed Federal Ceremonial Committee. ‘The fact is,’ remarked Sir William Lyne, ‘that I am perfectly overwhelmed with applications from persons who desire to serve on the committee, and it is very difficult to make a selection.’” Fortunately, “the committee will probably be appointed in the course of a few days.” 41 It was clear from the beginning that the chief matters would be entirely controlled by the government, and that the functions of the Citizens’ Committee would be in regard to the operations of private individuals…That the following gentlemen be added to the executive committee: The aldermen of the city… Samuel Hordern (scion of the department store family), T W Thrower (president of the Trades and Labour Council), W Vicars (president of the Chamber of Manufacturers) [and one of the major employers in Newtown and Marrickville at the time]… 42 This committee was to be overseen by the Hon Edward William O’Sullivan, the NSW Minister for Public Works who was responsible for much of the march organisation, and a politician who will also find mention more than once in this thesis. From the outset, the route chosen by this committee was to traverse Bridge Street and then Pitt Street, without following through to George Street, even though other aspects of the route were changed dramatically. No mention appeared to have been made in any report as to why this was the case, so the avoidance of this area of the city is open to 40 The Sydney Morning Herald: 14 November 1900, p. 7. 41 The Sydney Morning Herald: 11 October 1900, p. 7. 42 The Sydney Morning Herald: 14 November 1900, p. 8. 61 conjecture; however, the need to include Martin Place occurs in all mentions of this route. 43 One notable feature of the celebrations in 1901 that will be alluded to often through this thesis was the genuine affection the whole community expressed for Queen Victoria and even for her now forty years deceased consort, Prince Albert. Traces of this adoration of Victoria were evident again and again as I walked the route of both marches so it seemed fitting that Sydney’s parade should have commenced along Prince Albert Road, then the main thoroughfare into the Domain. But times change, and this path has become a bypassed offshoot now eclipsed by the Art Gallery Road to the east that takes current traffic all the way to the harbour at Mrs Macquarie’s Chair. 44 Prince Albert Road re-affirms its royal supremacy and takes over from Art Gallery Road at the Domain Gates, the location of the first of the specially constructed celebratory structures: the Coal Arch. 45 This edifice was also known as the Newcastle Arch, not only because the northern mining city supplied the construction and material for the arch, but the design itself mirrored a September 1897 structure erected in Hunter Street Civic to commemorate Newcastle’s Centenary. 46 That earlier arch had been created from the same literal material and adorned by a Star of David, signifying the support lent by Newcastle’s Jewish merchants. 47 In keeping with so much of the funding of Federation celebrations, it was again local committees and organisations that planned and constructed the Coal Arch. 48 The mayor of Newcastle, Alderman David Miller and his elected fellow high office holders oversaw the erection of this monument to Newcastle’s role in the developing 43 The Sydney Morning Herald: 30 October 1900, p. 6. Citizens’ Commonwealth Committee. A Series of Recommendations: “Recommendation 6: That the route of procession should be from Circular Quay, through Loftus Street to Macquarie Place, to Pitt Street, to Martin Place to George Street, past the Town Hall, To Bathurst Street, into Pitt Street, back to Park Street, to College Street, up Oxford Street to Ocean Street, into Centennial Park.” This involved a doubling back that would appear to have been a finally rejected feature of many early route plans. 44 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, Sydney map D. This end of Prince Albert Road is now used only by joggers and council vehicles, with little indication of its significant link to the past. Photograph Booklet 1, p. 6. 45 Photograph Booklet 1, p. 7. 46 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 26. 47 John Turner: A Pictorial History of Newcastle, 1997, Kingsclear Books, Sydney, p. 64. 48 The Sydney Morning Herald: 4 December 1900, p.5. Citizens’ Commonwealth Committee. “The Commonwealth Arch was reported to be in progress of erection at the junction of Park Street and Elizabeth Street. Suggestions in regard to the coal arch of the Newcastle district, and a proposed arch of produce, maize and sugar cane from Grafton were considered.” 62 industrialisation of the nation. Alderman Gardiner from Hamilton was responsible for the design of the arch, and for its construction, 49 although in the case of this more substantial structure, the Star of David was not in evidence. 50 In the final event, it would have been preferable if he had obtained some professional structural guidance. As with the earlier version, the arch itself consisted of two supporting piers of heavy blocks of coal rising some six metres to the springing for the light timber framed arch. Above this arose smaller pieces of coal held in place by wire netting. Not only was the coal itself donated by local Newcastle mining and industrial companies, but forty miners volunteered themselves as marionettes, symbolically hewing at the coal from a four metre high edge around the two pillars as the march proceeded underneath. 51 This Coal Arch illustrated tensions that would develop within the labour movement for the next century and beyond. The previous two decades had experienced the rise of radicalism within society at large, and the evolution of a Labour Party that had already seen representatives elected to colonial parliaments. 52 However, this arch construction and dutiful display also demonstrated a conservatism on the part of those working people who were obviously less interested in overthrowing the established order, than in gaining access to it. 53 Banners proclaiming “Welcome to the Governor General”, as well as the motto “Omina vincit labor” (labour conquers all) indicated that, while many may have written of theoretical republicanism, the reality of many working people’s view of the imperial presentation was of affection and loyalty. 54 Henry Lawson himself seemed to embody the dichotomy of the times. While often expressing a republican 49 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 25. 50 Newcastle Hebrew Congregation: History of the Jewish congregation in Newcastle and the Hunter online database. Although having existed in Newcastle from earliest days, the Jewish presence at the time of Federation was tenuous, and specific funding for the new arch was apparently not forthcoming. 51 The Sydney Morning Herald: 29 December 1900, p. 10. “A feature of the display on Tuesday next will be the appearance of forty special miners in pat attire with the tallow lamps attached to their caps. The will be accommodated on stands to the erected half way up the arch and during the passing of the procession will be engaged in hewing coal with the ordinary mining picks.” 52 Hearns and Patmore: Working the Nation 2001, p. 72. “And the future belonged to labour and radicalism.” The Worker: 27 May 1899, p. 7. “The march of progress [is] from a tyrannous past, to a freer and more liberal present towards a future where the people would be in full control over their own lives.” 53 Hearns and Patmore: Working the Nation 2001, p. 72. “Democracy was the other great watchword of labour counter-discourse.” 54 Richard Gordon: The Australian New Left, 1970, William Heinemann, Melbourne, p. 5. Humphrey McQueen offers a more modern jaundiced view in his chapter: Laborism and Socialism. “Those who look at the Labor Party and the ACTU and despair of the working class are mistaken. What they see in those organisations is not a working class but a particularly Australian petit-bourgeoisie: they do not see workers who have lost the will to overthrow capitalism, but a petit-bourgeoisie who never had it.” 63 radicalism in his literary work in poems such as Freedom on the Wallaby, 55 he was happy to accept assistance from the NSW Governor Earl Beauchamp in financing his trip to Britain in 1900. 56 So we must fly a rebel flag, As others did before us, And we must sing a rebel song And join in rebel chorus. We’ll make the tyrants feel the sting O’ those that they would throttle; They needn’t say the fault is ours If blood should stain the wattle! The irony of it all was that, for whatever reason, the Governor General did not actually drive under the Coal Arch, but came from Government House along the rear Hospital Road behind Parliament House and joined the procession at St Mary’s Cathedral. 57 Whether this was a planned formality, a snub, or the result of Hopetoun being very sick at the time is not mentioned; however, it meant that he missed out on one of the most interesting and dramatic features of the parade. It was also a remarkably honest gesture by the march organisers to include a Coal Arch in the first place. Along with horses and horsepower, European and Australian culture of the time was totally dependent upon coal and coal mining. 58 Coal was thus a valuable commodity, and the cost of constructing such a seemingly solid structure would have been considerable. 59 Unfortunately, the residents of nearby suburbs such as Woolloomooloo also recognised the value of the expensive but necessary material being left unattended and apparently readily available to all. By 5 January, enough of the 55 Henry Lawson: A Campfire Yarn – The complete works 1885-1900, 1984, Lansdowne Press, Sydney, p. 146. Freedom on the Wallaby, 1891. 56 Wilde, Hooton, Andrews: The Oxford Companion to Australian Literature, 1994, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, p. 454. 57 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 14. 58 George Orwell: The Road to Wigan Pier, originally published in 1937, 1989, Penguin Books, London, pp. 29-31. George Orwell made this very point most eloquently nearly forty years later. “In order that Hitler may march the goose-step, that the Pope may denounce Bolshevism, that the cricket crowd may assemble at Lord’s, that the Nancy poets may scratch one another’s backs, coal has got to be forthcoming…..all of us really owe the comparative decency of our lives to poor drudges underground, blackened to the eyes, with their throats full of coal dust, driving their shovels forward with arms and belly muscles of steel.” 59 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 7. 64 supporting structural coal had been removed for the arch to have become a public hazard: and so it proved to be. Around 9:00pm that evening, Phillip Maher from Camperdown and his daughter were supposedly passing by when part of the wooden framework collapsed, almost burying them. 60 The young girl suffered a fractured hand and several broken teeth; not inconsequential injuries in 1901. Interestingly, no mention was made in press reports of the incident as to why someone from a suburb over five kilometres away would have been walking past the arch after sunset, and why the arch should have chosen that time to collapse. The possibility that Maher and his daughter were themselves in the process of removing coal for their own use was apparently not investigated, although Tessa Milne makes the ironic comment that the unplanned collapse was a fitting reminder of “the real dangers of the mining industry”. 61 That the first arch to have been passed under by the march should have been dedicated to mining and industry and presided over by the ‘knights of labour’ was reflected in the organisation of the march itself. Formal precedence dictated that the less significant marchers or those of lesser social and cultural standing would have come first in order, followed by those of an increasing standing, until finally culminating in the social leaders and Vice-Regal representatives. Consequently, after the preliminary force of mounted police and lancers, the march was launched by representatives of the working people of NSW: trade union officials and representatives of the trades and industries found in the colony. It is unclear whether this significance would have been so obvious to the audience actually watching the parade. The vision of some two hundred and fifty resolute workers representing twenty five crafts and occupations, all in their working clothes and carrying the tools of their trades, would surely have been a most impressive vision coming down the streets of Sydney. 62 Attitudes towards the labouring classes were evident in the press, with The Daily Telegraph commenting that the trades union representatives’ “sturdy limbs at once suggested that threadbare but nevertheless always veracious sentiment – ‘the bone and sinew of the nation’.” 63 60 The Daily Telegraph: 7 January 1901, p. 7. 61 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, 2000, p. 28. 62 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 1. The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 January 1901. 63 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 14. 65 This view contrasted with the dialogue between two observers recorded by The Age as the march commenced: “I thought the military were to precede the procession, remarked someone who had suddenly discovered that the programme which he has purchased for a penny is not being followed. So they were, replied his companion, but you see, they have made an improvement and sent the rag-tag and bobtail first.” 64 No doubt there would have been a heady mixture of admiration and condescension reflected in such reportage, although it is more than likely that there was also the lingering recognition that the Federation process had been one of inclusion, necessary for the democratic process to provide a successful outcome across all sections of the community. The degree to which this inclusion was to include all had its practical, if not theoretical limits. As Neville Kirk claimed, working people saw themselves in the process of creating a “Workers’ Paradise” 65 freed from the constraints and restraints of the mother country. 66 “Organised workers in Australia saw themselves as being ‘more British than the British’ in their racial ‘purity and their whiteness’.” However, part of this inheritance also included the tolerance of others, if only by degrees of this “whiteness”. 67 3. RACE AND RELIGION The next significant location on the march route was St Mary’s Cathedral; the site of one of the most momentous, and even amusing, cultural demonstrations in Australia’s history. At the time of Federation, Australia was rife with religious sectarianism, ostensibly between Roman Catholics and Protestants. 68 The situation, however, was not this simple with conflict, competition and discord also between the various Protestant denominations, and even within denominations and Catholic orders. High and Low Church Anglicans, Wesleyan and Primitive Methodists, Irish born and Australian born 64 The Age: 2 January 1901, p7. 65 Neville Kirk: Labour and the politics of Empire, Britain and Australia 1900 to the present, 2011, Manchester University Press, Manchester, p. 75. The newly formed Australian Labour Party actually used this terminology. 66 Neville Kirk: Labour and the politics of Empire, Britain and Australia 1900 to the present, p. 11. “These aspects [class-based and national oppression and exploitation] constituted the antithesis of the attempt to construct a ‘Workers’ Paradise’ in Australia rooted in democracy, social justice, openness and…egalitarianism…” 67 Neville Kirk: Labour and the politics of Empire, Britain and Australia 1900 to the present, p. 11. 68 Ann Curthoys and Andrew Markus: Who are our enemies? p.14. “The Irish who today form ethnic groups were treated as a race by the British in colonial Australia because of their assumed physical appearance (e.g. prominent upper lip).” Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, p. 116. 66 Catholics all found good reason to discriminate against one another. 69 Although Roman Catholics, and Irish Catholics in particular, had formed an integral part of Sydney’s society from first settlement, their initial status as outsiders meant that government support for their religious requirements was limited. 70 Several priests had been transported as convicts after the 1798 Irish Rebellion in County Wexford, 71 and it was this county that would then give its name to one of the more disreputable districts of Sydney. 72 The foundation stone for Sydney’s first Catholic Church was laid by Governor Lachlan Macquarie in 1821, and as has ironically been the case ever since, construction was financed by donations not only from the Catholic community, but also other denominations and the government. 73 The site chosen, the eastern side of Hyde Park was one that, at the time, reflected the financial and political position of the Catholic Church in the colony. 74 This had been a rubbish dump that overlooked the gully of the, even then, seedy suburb of Darlinghurst. 75 The early Catholic chaplain, Father John Joseph Therry, had requested that the church be built at the Rocks, but Macquarie, as town planner amongst other things, remained adamant. 76 On 29 June 1865 this original St Mary’s burned to the ground, although one of the few standing wall sections on the site remains as a memorial. What had originally been a less than salubrious location had now, with the expansion of the city, become one of the great architectural sites of Sydney, so it was obvious that the construction of a new, grander structure would take place over the remains of the old. Designed by the Anglo- Catholic architect William Wardell, the new Cathedral was dedicated to Australia’s patron saint, St Mary, Help of Christians, on 8 September 1882. 77 Although officially 69 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, pp. 196-201. 70 G N Hawker: The Parliament of New South Wales 1856-1965, 1971, Victor Blight NSW Government Printer, Sydney, Australia. Note the table on p. 148. Although by the time of Federation, many Catholics were in positions of political power in NSW, the overall percentage within the state parliament was always lower than that in the general population: 9% of MsLC in 1890 and 10% in 1905. In the census of 1901, Catholics made up 25.6% of the population in NSW and 22.5% Australia wide. 71 St Mary’s Cathedral: St Mary’s – A Living Cathedral, Sydney, 2004, p. 28. 72 The Sydney Morning Herald: 4 May 1900, p. 7. By the time of the Federation parade, Wexford Street would be in the process of demolition, with the avid support of the Catholic community. 73 St Mary’s Cathedral: St Mary’s – A Living Cathedral, p. 29. 74 Mark Nunn: St Mary’s Cathedral, 2008, Dictionary of Sydney online database. 75 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 9. 76 The Sydney Morning Herald: 27 June 1935, p. 8. Mention is made of the level of conflict that arose three years earlier between “ardent town planner” Macquarie and his equally passionate architect Francis Greenway over what would be the future location of St Andrews Anglican Cathedral. 77 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p.12. 67 opened by Sydney’s Catholic leader, Cardinal Patrick Francis Moran, in September 1900, 78 only the northern nave and abbreviated transepts were actually finished at the time, with the main structure not completed until 1928. The two great southern spires were finally put in place in June 2000, a century after the official opening, and in time for Australia’s Centenary of Federation. 79 Nineteenth century tensions born of the Irish famine had been further reinforced on the 12 March 1868 when an apparently deranged Irish Nationalist, Henry James O’Farrell, attempted to assassinate the visiting Duke of Edinburgh, Queen Victoria’s second eldest son Prince Alfred, at a picnic at Clontarf. 80 Despite calls for clemency from the Duke himself, the otherwise quite liberal NSW Martin/Parkes Government hanged O’Farrell on 21 April. 81 One consequence of this assassination attempt, and the Duke’s successful recovery, was the construction and dedication of the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital in Sydney as a teaching hospital for the University of Sydney. 82 Cardinal Moran seemed to become the focus of much of this controversy at the beginning of the twentieth century, as the Melbourne Archbishop Daniel Mannix would from the First World War onwards. 83 As a way of finding a place for themselves and their culture in newly developing Australian society to a degree that was not possible in Great Britain, Irish Catholics were also looking to the newly emerging labour 78 The Sydney Morning Herald: 22 September 1882, p. 9. Opening of St Mary’s Cathedral. “On Friday, September 8, the most important event in the history of Catholicism in this colony was celebrated in the solemn opening of St Mary’s Cathedral.” The official opening on September 9 1900 was not without sectarian controversy itself. The Sydney Morning Herald: 14 September 1900, p. 3. St Mary’s Cathedral Opening. Letter to the Editor of the Herald signed W M Dill Macky, B Price, F Colwell; Evangelical Council. “That this council notes that at the opening of St Mary's Roman Catholic Cathedral on Sunday last, his Excellency the Governor attended in his official capacity as representative of her Majesty the Queen, and was accompanied by their Excellencies the Governors of Queensland and New Guinea, who also attended in official costume and style. The council also notes that his Worship the Mayor and other official personages are also reported to have been present in their official capacities…That on that occasion, and in presence of his Excellency, the appointed preacher (Dr Redwood) is reported to have said "The leaders and founders of Protestantism, Luther, Calvin, Zwinglius etc were notorious for their vices." 79 St Mary’s Cathedral: St Mary’s – A Living Cathedral, p. 32. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 9. 80 The Sydney Morning Herald: 14 – 20 March 1868. Numerous articles on the assassination attempt. 81 Freeman’s Journal: 2 May 1896, p. 18. The poisonous environment that subsequently erupted was demonstrated by the myth of the “Kiama Ghost”; when state premier James Martin and colonial secretary Henry Parkes claimed that in a secret interview with O’Farrell, he had admitted to a Fenian conspiracy, which had included the murder of a co-conspirator. Parkes made his accusations at a meeting in the Illawarra town of Kiama, and since no murdered body could be found, the issue became known as the “Kiama Ghost”. 82 The Sydney Morning Herald: 24 September 1932, p. 16. Fiftieth anniversary tomorrow of the opening of the Royal Prince Alfred Hospital. 83 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 12. 68 movement for both the protection of their livelihoods, and as an entry into the political establishment of the nation. 84 The appointment of Moran had itself reflected this departure with tradition and change in status. Previous Roman Catholic Archbishops of Sydney; John Bede Polding and Roger Bede Vaughan had been English Benedictines who themselves suffered conflicts with the primarily Irish composition of the Australian Catholic population. 85 This politicking was indicative of the commanding position that the Christian Church in general held in the nation of the time. The degree to which Christianity still retained a genuinely spiritual influence within Australia has always been difficult to judge, but it was certainly a powerful political force; with most of the disputes seeming about political power as much as doctrinal ideology. 86 The primacy of the various Christian leaders at the Inauguration Ceremony at Centennial Park demonstrated that, even as the nation that was being established as a secular federation with the theoretical separation of church and state, Councils of Protestant Churches succeeded in having the words “….humbly relying on the blessing of Almighty God,” added to the preamble of the Constitution. 87 The situation in Sydney was complicated by the degree of political power that the Irish Catholic community was attaining in the city. While some institutions would continue to refuse to employ Catholics, 88 many NSW social identities, and a good number of the state’s senior politicians were part of an Irish Catholic power base that was rapidly gaining, and would continue to hold, political influence in the state. 89 The socialist platform that original Labour leaders; many from a Non-Conformist and Methodist trade union tradition, attempted to introduce was anathema to Moran, and it was not 84 Patrick Ford: Cardinal Moran and the ALP, 1966, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, chapt. 7. 85 St Mary’s Cathedral: A Living Cathedral, pp. 16-17. 86 This would appear to contradict other views such as: John Gascoigne: The Enlightenment and the Origins of European Australia, 2002, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, p34. “The largely private character of Australian religion meant, then a society where Enlightenment values could become established with much less of that overt conflict that was evident in many European countries.” 87 Commonwealth of Australia: The Australian Constitution, 1997, Constitutional Centenary Foundation, Melbourne, p. 18. Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, p. 344. 88 The number of comments and letters to the editor in local newspapers such as the Queensland Figaro and Punch of 7 May 1887 and the Cumberland Argus of 15 January 1910 claiming that such a situation should not occur, clearly indicates this was an issue at the time. 89 G N Hawker: The Parliament of New South Wales 1856-1965, 1971, Victor Blight NSW Government Printer, Sydney, pp. 148, 213. This did not necessarily equate with simple numbers of representatives. Even in 1905, Catholics accounted for 10% of members of the NSW Legislative Council, although over the whole period 1901-1960, accounted for 23.8% of all Members of the Legislative Assembly, and more closely matched the percentage in the general population. 69 long before Labour was able to attract the support of the Catholic hierarchy by essentially dropping the socialist plank, and adopting Protectionism while also supporting the Federation of Free-Trade Conservatives such as Reid. 90 The Roman Catholic Cardinal of Sydney thus held not just high spiritual power in the city, but also high temporal power, and when it was decreed by Lord Hopetoun, through the NSW State Premier Sir William Lyne, that the Anglican Archbishop William Saumarez Smith would take religious precedence in the proceedings, a furore erupted. Even some members of the Committee of Management that was responsible for the Federation Celebrations themselves ceded that Cardinal Moran should have pride of place in the event. 91 The influence of the Orange Lodges was strong in both the conservative NSW State Government of Lyne and on the committee, and the Catholic Press sensed a sectarian conspiracy. 92 What Moran appeared to be attempting to do was to create a viable Irish Catholic culture within the wider Australian community; one that was distinct from the Anglican and Protestant majority, but which also would enjoy all the benefits and privileges that went with full membership of this community. 93 To do this, he had to tread carefully enough not to alienate both the wider Australian society and bring formal restrictive legislation down on top of the already prevalent informal sectarianism, but also members of his own community who could be as perplexed by his machinations as everyone else. 94 Much criticism was made of the support that Moran gave to Chinese migrants and workers, particularly in April 1888, with the public demonstrations that accompanied the arrival of the immigrant ship Afghan. 95 While Premier Parkes was driven by these demonstrations to introduce a bill restricting the entry of Chinese into the colony of New South Wales, Cardinal Moran continued to describe the Chinese as 90 Patrick Ford: Cardinal Moran and the ALP, 1966, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, chapts. 27, 34, p. 282. 91 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 5 January 1901, p. 9. 92 Catholic Press: 5 January 1901. Chris McConville: Croppies, Celts & Catholics – The Irish in Australia, 1987, Edward Arnold Australia, Melbourne, pp. 96-97. McConville centres on Melbourne in his subchapter Orange Revival. As Catholicism waxed and waned through the second half of the nineteenth century, so did the power and aggressiveness of the Orange Lodges. Marches up Sydney Road Brunswick apparently bordered on the kind of violence that has become synonymous with Northern Ireland. “Ugly battles along Sydney Road [in 1897] look very tame compared with the anti-Home Rule pogroms of Ulster Orangemen, yet they signified a rising sense of authority on the part of the Orange Lodge.” 93 Mark Hearn: Mary Malone’s lesson: a narrative of citizenship in Federation Australia, November 2004 Gender and History, vol. 16, issue 2, University of Sydney, pp. 376-396. 94 Mark Hearn: Working lives – Mary Malone’s lesson: a narrative of citizenship in Federation Australia, University of Sydney Work and Organisational Studies online database, May 2002. 95 The Sydney Morning Herald: 30 April 1888, p7. “A deputation from the Trades Hall Council waited on the Premier on Saturday [28 April] to protest against the landing of Chinese.” 70 “industrious”, and that restriction on Chinese immigration was an “unchristian” response by “loafers” who proclaimed “trade union principles while rejecting work at a reasonable wage.” 96 Many lay Catholics would have been a little confused. Although able to relate to the situation of the Chinese from their own position of previous outsiders denied the chance to make their honest way in the world, they would also have responded to the perceived threat to their standard of living by Chinese workers; particularly since many Irish Catholics themselves earned their living in the same labouring and manual trades occupations that competed directly with the Chinese. Above all, Cardinal Moran was a fervent Federationist. Having spent much of his early church career between 1853 and 1866 in Rome, Moran experienced the federation process at first hand through the unification of the new Italian nation. 97 However, when it came to Sydney’s celebration of Federation, Moran was not to have his way. The very public boycott that would take place by the Catholic hierarchy actually overshadowed the equally strong sense of disgust at High Anglican primacy felt by the representatives of the other Protestant denominations. A deputation to the Premier by representatives of the Presbyterian and Wesleyan Methodist churches requested that the order of precedence be altered for the sake of equality. 98 This was not done, and as a result, they also boycotted the March, although their presence was only noted at the later formal ceremony at Centennial Park. 99 In the event, Archbishop Moran was present, but as an éminence gris dominating the commencement of the march. He took his very public stand by sitting with Archbishop Thomas Joseph Carr from Melbourne, enthroned on a platform at the recently constructed north-west corner of St Mary’s Cathedral surrounded by two thousand Catholic school children. 100 As the parade passed, the peeling bells of St Mary’s paused out of respect, the children cheered, and many members of the parade themselves responded by cheering the Archbishop and the principled stand that he had taken. 101 96 Mark Hearn: Mary Malone’s lesson: a narrative of citizenship in Federation Australia, pp. 376-396. The South Australian Advertiser: 14 May 1888. 97 Patrick Ford: Cardinal Moran and the ALP, p. 199. 98 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 15. Interestingly, the Telegraph passed the issue off as “The unfortunate hitch which at the last moment prevented the heads of the various denominational bodies from taking part in the procession, was however scarcely noticed by the crowd, few of whom were probably aware of what had occurred.” 99 The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 January 1901, p. 15. 100 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 11. 101 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 9. 71 This demonstration by Cardinal Moran was made possible by the fortunate location of St Mary’s Cathedral on the north-eastern corner of Hyde Park and by the decision of the march organisers to send the parade along this chosen route. 102 With the Domain being the most suitable assembly point, and the subsequent need to travel down Macquarie Street, it was then logical for the marchers to make the turn past St Mary’s. The only other possible point of assembly for such a large number of people, Hyde Park, would still have afforded the Roman Catholic Cathedral domination of the proceedings. Even the alignment of the roadway eventually played into the hands of Moran. As can be seen in the accompanying photographs, Prince Albert Road traverses a clockwise arc about the Lands Department with St Mary’s Cathedral on the outside of the curve. As the Cardinal sat in this most obvious location, the marchers would have looked him straight in the eye as they followed the route around to Queen’s Square. 103 Perhaps this whole incident, and the reaction of the participants, was symptomatic of the level of accommodation that was, in reality, being reached within the developing society of the day. Had the disputes between the faiths been purely religious and doctrinaire, there would have been no room for compromise or good natured banter. However, with the dispute being primarily political, a politically expedient stand was made possible by all sides, with no-one really losing face. In the context of understanding the march, it is important to reflect upon the siting of the major religious institutions in both Sydney and Melbourne, and the way that the routes of the Federation parades echoed the position of Christianity within Australian Society at the time. High Anglicanism was reflected through the ruling elite of both Sydney and Melbourne; with the major Anglican cathedrals in both cities located adjacent to both Town Halls: one block down the road in the case of St Paul’s in Melbourne, and directly next door in the case of St Andrew’s in Sydney. 104 Locating the hub of temporal and spiritual power so close to one another in the physical and social hub of both cities would not have been inadvertent, although notably, the sites of later elected political power, the Colonial and then State Parliaments were well separated. Both State Parliaments were placed on hills overlooking the bustle of the city below and thus were 102 Note the location of the then recently completed corner of St Mary’s cathedral relative to the route of the procession. Not only did the marchers have been looking directly at Moran and his entourage as they approached the Cathedral, but the Cardinal would then have been able to view the march as it passed and turned to proceed down Macquarie Street. 103 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 10. 104 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, map C. UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 1. 72 symbolically removed from the muddy corporate and civic world. It was also along these same ridge lines that the two Catholic Cathedrals were later located. 105 However, as much through the dynamic of urban growth, as through the sheer imposing power of the new cathedrals themselves, the former rubbish dump overlooking Darlinghurst, and the isolated hill to the east of Melbourne city would become the religious and cultural centres for a large segment of the population. 4. CITY DEVELOPMENT The first notable government building to be passed as the Federation march left the Domain was the Land Titles Office on the right hand corner of Prince Albert Road, directly opposite St Mary’s. 106 Even today this building serves its original function, as well as being the repository of personal certificates such as births, deaths and marriages for the citizens of the state. The bureaucratic efficiency reflected in the ornate classical facade harks back to one of the supposedly least popular of New South Wales’ original colonial rulers, Governor Ralph Darling. 107 Although remembered (and often reviled 108 ) as the man who attempted to implement the Bigge Report and overturn many of the advances made by the much beloved Lachlan Macquarie, 109 Darling also left a more positive legacy; establishing the ordered bureaucracy necessary for the development of a viable colonial society. 110 Notwithstanding his being responsible for the acquisition of much Aboriginal land and the legal displacement of the original inhabitants of Australia, Darling placed much of the land ownership of the colony on a firm, orderly footing. 111 His introduction of the 105 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, map D. UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 18. 106 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 15. 107 Alan Birch and David S Macmillan: The Sydney Scene 1788-1960, 1962, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, p. 60. The Australian: 28 October 1831, p. 2. The newspaper commemorated the removal of Darling with the headline: “Further Rejoicings for Governor Darling’s departure.” 108 Geoffrey Blainey: A Land Half Won, p. 112. 109 John Gascoigne: The Enlightenment and the Origins of European Australia, p. 53. Note the public meeting in Sydney prompted by “Governor Darling’s draconian treatment of two soldiers, Sudds and Thompson,” prompting calls for a free press and trial by jury. 110 Bede Nairn: Sir Ralph Darling (1772-1858), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. “Surely there is no colony under His Majesty's Government where attention to the selection of Individuals is so important … not only the character of the Government, but the moral improvement of the people mainly depends on it”. 111 Bede Nairn: Sir Ralph Darling (1772-1858), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. “Before leaving London Darling and half the Earl of Liverpool's cabinet had been dined by the directors 73 furlong square for all new town planning, reacting to the ever more chaotic construction in the centre of Sydney itself, has left a bequest to this day of wide, car friendly roadways in most of the nation’s cities and country towns. Ironically, the city of Sydney itself was less amenable to change, and continued to evolve in an ever more haphazard manner, and it would be Melbourne that was to benefit the most from Darling’s forward looking plans. 112 Although often overlooked today, the junction of Prince Albert Road and St Mary’s Road also revolves around an ornate drinking fountain inscribed: “1884 John Hardie mayor 113 – to his fellow citizens, John Fraser MLC, L Beveridge – sculptor”. This small, quaint structure complements the other remaining fountain supplied by the mayor and stone mason, located in the southern half of Hyde Park. 114 The second fountain is fortuitously sited on the main pathway between the exit from Museum railway station and both the Australian Museum and the Sydney Boys’ Grammar School where its taps still serve an invaluable role as the focus for passing small boys . The St Mary’s Road fountain, on the other hand, now sits forlornly in the middle of one of the busiest access roads into the city, although it is also still used as a source of refreshment by lunchtime joggers on their way to and from the Domain. That these structures still exist as a combination of public benefaction and personal memorial to a past political leader, serve as a belated recognition of the importance of fresh water to the health of the city’s inhabitants. These fountains were constructed at a time when Sydney was still receiving pumped water from the Lachlan Swamps at the northern end of Botany Bay. 115 This long string of lakes and swamps also still exist as the Centennial Park duck ponds, the low lands and multiple golf courses running from of the Australian Agricultural Co., but he had already been briefed at the Colonial Office on the undue alienation of land. Soon after his arrival in Sydney he established a Land Board to examine the claims of applicants. To stop fraud and absenteeism, land was to be granted only to bona fide settlers in proportion to their capital and alienation within seven years was forbidden.” 112 Deborah Tout-Smith: Melbourne, a City of Stories, p14. Note Robert Hoddle’s implementation, and modification, of the furlong square. 113 City of Sydney Local Government: Sydney’s Aldermen online database. “John Hardie was born in Sydney on 2 July 1833, son of Scottish immigrants Robert and Jane Hardie. He married in 1855, although his wife and children have not been identified, and died in Sydney in 1904. The family were Presbyterian. By 1867, John Hardie and John Mitchell, millers and bakers, were established at 516–18 George Street. About 1869 Hardie took over George Wilkie’s flour mills.” 114 Photograph Booklet 1, p. 14. 115 Shirley Fitzgerald: Rising Damp – Sydney 1870-90, pp. 27-28. Note the map on page 28 of the Redfern district in 1879 clearly showing these water catchments of the inner south of the city. 74 the city to Botany, and even the cooling ponds for Mascot aerodrome. 116 By 1888, the realisation that this was going to be insufficient for Sydney’s requirements coincided with advances in the technologies of dam construction and pumping. During the summer of 1884-1885 there was “a heavier than usual [sic] outbreak of typhoid fever…the hospitals could take no more cases,” 117 and as a result, the Board of Water, Sewerage and Drainage was established to begin taking water from the massive upper Nepean River catchment in the Southern Highlands. 118 At the time of Federation, the water component of the board’s responsibility was well under control with the damming of the Nepean, the soon to be dammed Cataract River and the construction of Prospect Reservoir. The sewerage and drainage aspects, however, were yet to be dealt with, and would continue to affect attitudes towards Sydney’s land use, and eventually even the route of the Federation parade itself. 119 Following Cardinal Moran’s demonstration at St Mary’s Cathedral, the march then proceeded clockwise to Queens Square at the top of Hyde Park and the beginning of Macquarie Street, including the foundation Anglican Church of St James. Although from 1887, the site was formally designated as Chancery Square, 120 the district has only ever been known as Queen’s Square and St James, 121 with the St James underground railway station, St James Law Courts, and originally a St James Theatre on Elizabeth Street. The area also expands to the Hyde Park Barracks across Macquarie Street which, a century ago, was being used as the Metropolitan District Court. 122 The quarter is, and was then, the legal centre of the city, with the Law Courts symbolically facing church and barracks, and the city’s large legal firms around the corner in the narrow canyon of Phillip Street. It is also still one of the more architecturally conservative districts in the city; retaining the heritage of the bricks and the sandstone cut from the clay and bedrock of the colonial city. 123 116 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps 376, 406. 117 Shirley Fitzgerald: Rising Damp – Sydney 1870-90, p. 86. The Sydney Morning Herald: 9 February 1885. 118 The Sydney Morning Herald: 25 October 1880, p. 7. The Nepean Water Supply Works. “The interest which the public in general takes in the construction of the works in connection with the Upper Nepean water supply scheme must make any information about them acceptable, and so one of our reporters has visited several sections of the line, to ascertain the exact amount of work done, and the state of forwardness in which the different contracts are.” 119 The Sydney Morning Herald: 15 May 1908, p8. Even seven years after Federation basic sewerage disposal for North Sydney was still only being planned by the city’s Engineer-in-Chief. 120 Historic Houses Trust of NSW: Hyde Park Barracks online database. 121 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 16. 122 Alan Birch and David S Macmillan: The Sydney Scene 1788-1960, p. 18. 123 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 17. 75 Throughout the eighteenth century, various forms of classical architectural style dominated public construction, and were a universal reflection of civic and political power. However, in the days before the advent of mass transportation, the materials that were employed to express this style varied according to the each building’s location. In Sydney the two most suitable materials available were sandstone and bricks. The local sandstone that was literally under the mason’s feet was easy to work and weathered to an attractive, relatively hard and long lasting surface. 124 Between the sandstone outcrops were gullies filled with shale clay that was perfect for the making of bricks. The ability to exploit these materials was further enhanced by the Aboriginal shell middens that dotted the Sydney basin, providing a ready source of lime, and by the fact that the local hard, twisted gum and acacia timber was more suited to burning for bricks and lime than actual construction. 125 Governor Macquarie’s architect Francis Greenway used coarsely cut local sandstone and locally baked bricks to build St James church and the Hyde Park Barracks, and the route of the march would later pass across the very Brickfield Hill site that supplied the clay for these significant structures. 126 With modern industrialisation, this localisation of material has largely been lost. The glass, concrete and steel reinforcing prevalent in modern buildings could come from Sydney, China or Korea. Ease of transportation now renders the source of industrially produced goods and even building materials largely irrelevant. Even by the time of the high Victorianism that reached its zenith at Federation, machine cut sandstone from around the city and as far north as the Hawkesbury river was being used for most of the great public buildings in Sydney. William Wardell used this same finely-cut local sandstone for St Mary’s, after having relied upon the local basalt bluestone for most of the earlier Melbourne’s St Patrick’s Cathedral. 127 As a classic instance predating current modernism, Wardell intentionally imported the lighter, stronger and easier to work sandstone from the Hawkesbury for the spires and carvings of St Patrick’s. 128 124 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, 1989, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, chapts. 1, 2. 125 Cox and Lucas: Australian Colonial Architecture 1978, pp. 36-38. Maplandia: Geological Sites and Localities online database. Note Lime Kiln Bay on the Georges River, the Shelly Beach on Sydney Harbour and the lime burning sites on the Cooks River. 126 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 24. 127 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, pp. 24, 28, 78, 80. 128 Ursula M De Jong: St Patrick’s Cathedral – a guide, 2005, Catholic Archdiocese of Melbourne, Melbourne, p. 2. Although the Anglican Cathedral in Melbourne, St Pauls, is constructed from local Victorian sandstone and limestone, it too utilised the stronger Hawkesbury sandstone for its spires. 76 It was thus at this point that the monarch who gave her name to the era spanning almost two thirds of the century would have become apparent to the marchers entering the main thoroughfare of the city. Just as they would have faced the unplanned visage of Cardinal Moran on the outside of the curve past St Mary’s, so they would also have passed a very intentional eye upon the larger than life statue of Queen Victoria as they turned into the top of Macquarie Street. 129 At the time, the statue of Her Majesty was amusingly then aligned east to face back to St Mary’s, also returning the gaze of Moran and his demonstration. 130 The decorations festooning and threatening to overpower the large effigy, no doubt spoke far louder than pious and formal incantations as to the feelings of the population toward their monarch. Perhaps Victoria really did embody the social and political sensibilities of the time, with this excessive adoration reflecting both pride and a fearful expectation on the part of Australians to be defended as an integral part of a far flung empire. Certainly, there was the sense of a past stability, with most of the population having known no other monarch during their lifetime. 131 This would probably have been mixed with trepidation, knowing as they must have, that their queen was unwell and that they could soon be without her physical presence and political eminence. 132 Her relationship with her colonial subjects certainly was complex. While generally viewed as a benevolent monarch and inspirational figurehead, Victoria’s personal attitudes were often at variance to this perception. 133 However, it would appear that for most people in the community, she was both a stabilising political figure, and more importantly, a tangible connection to a Britain upon which Australians were still very dependent, both economically and emotionally. The outpouring of grief at her death on the 22 January 1901 ranged from the formal work by Poet Laureate, Mr Alfred Austin reprinted in The Sydney Morning Herald to the unsigned poem published in the Bairnsdale Advertiser and Tambo and Omeo Chronicle: 129 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 15, 16. 130 Queen Victoria’s statue has subsequently been moved on more than one occasion as road alignments have changed to accommodate the need for traffic and the fashion for pedestrian malls. However, she continues to dominate her intersection and, thoughtfully, has now been rotated to look back to St James Church and down Macquarie Street. 131 The Sydney Morning Herald: 24 March 1887. Celebration of the Queen’s golden jubilee. The Sydney Morning Herald: 31 July 1897. An Ode for Queen Victoria – her diamond jubilee. 132 Bendigo Advertiser: 20 April 1901, p. 2. Queen Victoria’s death foretold. 133 Keith Amos: The Fenians in Australia (1865-1880), 1988, University of NSW Press, Sydney, pp. 201, 235. Victoria had supported the Duke of Cambridge’s refusal to pardon the Fenians of 1866, although six were later “released from the clemency of Her Most Gracious Majesty Queen Victoria” in Western Australia ten years later. 77 She came in Autumn radiance, summer gone, Leaf still on branch, but fruit upon the bough. Fruit of long years and ripe experience… And now there falls A sudden sadness in our lives, and we Can only bow disconsolate heads and weep, 134 Life is grown empty, for, but yesterday, ‘Twas all-in-all to have the right to say ‘there is a lady whom I live to serve, For whose least pleasure it were good to die… Sleep, Mother of the People sleep, thy sway Endureth with the empire thou hast knit They glory shall go with us on our way. At all our councils shall thy spirit sit. 135 Opinions vary as to whether such ebullient attitudes towards Queen Victoria were a positive or a negative indicator of Australia’s nationalist spirit. Helen Irving’s introduction to the collection: Becoming Australians- The movement towards Federation in Ballarat and the Nation, mentioned all the limitations that still remained to Australia’s ultimate independence even after Federation, and that “despite the constant references to, and representation of, Queen Victoria…not a lot of detailed historical work has been focussed on the celebrations of 1901, but those who have written about the Commonwealth Inauguration have shared a tendency towards a negative conclusion on the question as to whether there was a specific Australian sentiment expressed at all.” 136 134 The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 March 1901, p. 3. 135 Bairnsdale Advertiser and Tambo and Omeo Chronicle: 27 April 1901, p. 1. Poems such as these appear to go well beyond a mechanical expression of respect that would have been the preserve of officialdom at the passing of any other monarch. There is not only a sense of loss of the head of the realm and the empire, but almost a feeling of abandonment by a mother, or at least mother figure. Perhaps it is my own poetic imagination, but there also appears considerable similarity between the tenor and rhythm of this poem and the later Lawson work describing Robbie Burns’ statue. 136 Livingston, Jordan, Sweely: Becoming Australians – The movement towards Federation in Ballarat and the Nation, 2001, Wakefield Press, Kent Town, p. 2. Helen Irving Introduction 78 This ongoing influence of Queen Victoria became evident in the establishment of Empire Day throughout the British Empire. 137 Although the day was introduced throughout the various members of this Empire three or four years after the death of the Queen, the date chosen remained her birthday, the 24 May. 138 While some at the time were concerned that the memory of the old queen would fade all too soon, 139 this would not occur for half a century, and only then be replaced with the more pragmatic current public holiday that celebrates the equally long reigned Queen Elizabeth II. 140 With the large number of spectators and participants filling the city, the logistics of transportation and crowd control would have been formidable. General instructions that were issued by the NSW authorities prior to the parade included the necessary control of horses, both during the march, and “after 7 o’clock on the nights of the general illuminations.” 141 Horses with carriages were to keep to the left, and proceed at a walking pace, and not to be brought to a standstill. Even “persons on foot [were] to keep to the right-hand footpath or adjacent roadway, in the direction in which they are proceeding.” 142 Bicycles were banned outright; indicative of the level of danger such machines appeared to offer at the time. 143 Sensibly, there was also a height limitation of 14 feet on all vehicular traffic allowed in the city, indicating the minimum transitory height of the various arches and decorations. Public safety was therefore a concern, with a further long list of notices published in the press the day before the event. These 137 John Rickard: Australia – a cultural history, 1988, Longman Group, London, p. 115. “Empire Day was part of the marketing of the imperialism. Stemming from Canada in the late 1890s, the idea was taken up by the British Empire League, an Australian branch of which had been established in 1901 to promote the Boer War cause.” 138 The Sydney Morning Herald: 21 February 1905, p. 6. Empire Day. “One of the results of the Premiers conference is, as our summary reported on Saturday, that May 24 is likely to be set apart as a holiday to be known as Empire day, and special lessons are to inserted in the State school books to imbue children with the Imperial sentiment.” 139 The Sydney Morning Herald: 23 May 1906, p.13. Empire Day. “Tomorrow will be an interesting day. The ‘Twenty-fourth of May’ was for so many years a memorable holiday that it is surprising how soon the memory of the good queen in whose honour the day was celebrated could be forgotten.” Our Herald commentator need not have worried. 140 eMelbourne: Empire Day online database. “Empire Day was observed in state schools from 1905 with a program of addresses, pageants and patriotic songs, with children swearing allegiance to King and Empire with a loyal declaration. Also known as Flag Day, Empire Day saw the city decorated with flags on principal buildings and cable trams… Originally celebrated on 24 May (Queen Victoria's birthday), popular observance declined in the postwar period. Renamed (British) Commonwealth Day in the 1950s, and moved in 1966 to 11 June, (Queen Elizabeth II's birthday - sic)[or the second Monday in June, actually celebrating the birthday of King George V and Queen Elizabeth’s coronation on 2 June 1953] , it was more commonly known as Cracker Night and celebrated by bonfires and the lighting of fireworks until stricter government regulation reduced their availability.” 141 The Daily Telegraph: 31 December 1900, p. 6. 142 The Daily Telegraph: 31 December 1900, p. 6. 143 Ironically, it is now bicycles that are regarded as vulnerable compared with the more threatening automobile. 79 included warnings not take infants our young children into crowded areas and care not to touch horses ridden by the military or the police. Although of course wishing to preserve the safety of all concerned, one would have assumed that most people in 1901 were well enough acquainted with the temperament of horses in city streets to treat such animals with respect. 144 5. MACQUARIE STREET AND THE OLD CITY The march then travelled north down Macquarie Street, along a route chosen for a political and social significance that remains obvious to the modern footstepper, with even Queen Victoria’s gaze now turned to look north past St James’ Church. On the eastern side of the street remain many of the great heritage buildings of the city: the Royal Mint, Sydney Hospital and State Parliament House. 145 These institutions were constructed over the course of the Victorian century, from the Rum Hospital cum Colonial Mint between 1811 and 1816, to the later State Government House and Thomas Rowe’s Sydney Hospital, not completed until 1894. Many of these buildings were under threat of demolition at some stage during the subsequent twentieth century and Hyde Park Barracks itself was only saved from the wrecker’s hammer in 1937 due to the lack of money for the undertaking. 146 The attitude of many in authority over the years could be summed up by John Boyd Steel, secretary of the Howard Prison Reform League between the wars. 147 As well as drawing the long bow of claiming that crime in the Rocks had diminished as a direct result of the demolition of houses in 1930 for the construction of the Harbour Bridge, 148 Steel claimed that, “There are no old buildings in Sydney which could be preserved on account of their beauty or even for the supposed Macquarie design. All these old barns are merely out of date and can never be antiquities. Certain old buildings at Circular Quay are certainly reminiscent of olden days, but they are useless monstrosities, just the same.” 149 144 The Daily Telegraph: 31 December 1900, p. 6. 145 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 19, 20. 146 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 250. 147 Howard League for Penal Reform online database. This charitable organisation is still in existence, and still fights for the welfare of prisoners and their families. 148 The Sydney Morning Herald: 17 October 1938, p. 9. 149 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 250. 80 On the left hand side of the street in 1901 would have stood the impressive private residence of Burdekin House, home to one of the significant families of nineteenth century Sydney. 150 The eventual fate of this house would tie in with other sites related to the Federation parade through the city. The congregation of St Stephen’s Presbyterian Church at nearby Darling Harbour appeared more than happy about the possible replacement of their 1826 York Street church when the district suffered an outbreak of Bubonic Plague in 1900 and much of this area was cleared. This church had been the site of conflict with the “fiery leadership of the Rev John Dunmore Lang”, 151 and although the building would remain as the current Scots’ church, religious discord would see the departure of many emotionally worn out Presbyterians to eventually found the Macquarie Street St Stephen’s Church in 1933. 152 This church now occupies the site of the Burdekin House 153 and indeed even St Stephen’s own current website notes that the demolition of Burdekin House, “described as one of the finest residences in Sydney” 154 would itself become the rallying point for the early conservation movement in Sydney. 155 Following these original structures that marchers in the passing Federation Parade would also have noticed is the one building they would have just missed: the new annex for the NSW State Library and the grand extravagance of the Mitchell Library and Shakespeare Place. 156 Another notable instance of the degree to which private individuals provided the impetus for the social and economic development of the community was the example of David Scott Mitchell. The son of the supervisor of the Military Hospital who had become a wealthy industrialist, Mitchell was part of the first intake for the newly established University of Sydney in 1852. Although never really short of money, Mitchell was, by temperament or circumstances, “short of affection, and turned his passionate and sensitive nature to the collection of Australiana and books”. 157 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps A, B. The “old barns” now form part of The Rocks heritage precinct that attracts millions of local and overseas tourists every year. 150 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 21. 151 St Stephen’s Church: The Three Faces of St Stephens, St Stephen’s Uniting Church, pp.1-3. 152 DWA Baxter: John Dunmore Lang (1799-1878), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 153 St Stephen’s Church: The Three Faces of St Stephens, p 4. 154 St Stephen’s Presbyterian Church Macquarie Street: Burdekin House online database. 155 Historic Houses Trust of NSW: For the Public Good – Crimes, Follies and Misfortunes, p. 67. 156 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 25. 157 The Lone Hand: 1907 vol. 1, Arthur William Jose David Scott Mitchell. Alan Birch and David S Macmillan: The Sydney Scene 1788-1960, p. 227. 81 At the time of the parade, Mitchell’s huge collection was still being stored at 161 Macquarie Street, on the opposite corner of Bent Street to the Australian Club. 158 The current large repository is another one of those notable sites so far passed on my footstepping expedition that again demonstrates the gulf in cultural sensibilities that has changed over the course of a century. Nowadays, in Sydney, and elsewhere throughout the nation, the ultimate prestige location is one that has a view overlooking a harbour, the sea or river. The view from a point on high over one of the most beautiful harbours in the world is enough to place a premium on a suburban residence or commercial building. In 1901 this was apparently not the case. Harbour side suburbs such as Balmain, The Rocks and even Double Bay were places to be avoided. This had much to do with the almost non-existent state of public health facilities at the time. The improvements in sewerage disposal that had occurred from the 1850s to the 1900s consisted primarily of replacing cess pits with sewers that expelled human waste directly into the harbour. 159 Harbour locations were obviously less appreciated, except for the far eastern suburbs such as Vaucluse that were close enough to the heads to avoid the worst excesses of human and industrial waste. 160 Consequently, awareness evolved toward views of the natural world that reflected these circumstances. There are still many 1920s vintage bungalows in suburbs along the cliffs in Eastern Sydney where the lounge and living rooms face the road, while the views from the back of the houses that overlook beaches, headlands and parks are consigned to pokey little windows in bathrooms and toilets. These houses were constructed at the same time as the Blue Mountains were being established as a recreational destination precisely because of the dramatic scenery and spectacular views. 161 158 Frank Clune: Saga of Sydney, 1962, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, p. 244. The current Mitchell Library was eventually constructed between 1906 and 1910. John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 94. 159 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney, the anatomy of an epidemic, 1989, University of Sydney Press, Sydney, chapt. 4. 160 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney, the anatomy of an epidemic, pp. 83-84. 161 The Sydney Morning Herald: 16 March 1909, p. 8. Mention of celebrations at the Medlow Bath Hydro Majestic. This retreat was created in 1891 and purchased by Mark Foy in 1902 as a health spa. Apparently Foy’s retail prestige was enough for him to convince the NSW State Government to rename the original railway stop of Medlow to the current Medlow Bath. Blue Mountains Australia: Medlow Bath online database. 82 Both St Mary’s Cathedral and the Mitchell Library today command vistas that are considered priceless. Even with the growth of tall buildings in the streets below and tall trees in the surrounding parklands, they still look out to the harbour and the heads; yet at the time, this was deemed of little significance. Just as the principal Roman Catholic place of worship had been sited on land that originally no-one else really wanted, it took a century before the site of the Mitchell Library was allocated to a significant civic structure. The library now faces Shakespeare Place, originally a point of entry for the Domain and the Botanical Gardens. 162 Its wide spacious grandeur was allowed repose for half a century until 1958 when the Cahill Expressway was extended to Woolloomooloo, taking much of this land for both the open cut dual carriageway, and that most vibrant expression of late 1950s modernity, a road tunnel. 163 My footstepping now crossed over Macquarie Street to the corner of Bent Street and the site of the former Australia Club. This club was one of many institutions that served the practical purpose of linking the City and the Bush. Such organizations for the financially wealthy, and hotels such as the Great Southern, adjacent to Central Railway, for the less well off, provided valuable accommodation for country folk visiting the city. The western side of Macquarie Street’s eclectic mix of fashionable town houses also included doctor’s surgeries and up-market boarding houses, no doubt catering to people visiting the city specifically for medical treatment. 164 It was to the clubs, hotels and boarding houses that such visitors looked for sanctuary in the ‘big smoke’. As Henry Lawson himself experienced: 165 It was pleasant up the country, City Bushman, where you went, For you sought the greener patches and you travelled like a gent; And you curse the trams and buses and the turmoil and the push, Though, you know, the squalid city needn’t keep you from the bush. 162 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 25. 163 Note the Jeffrey Smart painting expressing not only the alienation of the modern 1960s Brutalism design ideal, but is also a very accurate, if compressed, depiction of the northern exit of the then new tunnel. 164 The Sydney Morning Herald: 25 October 1899, p. 4. Fires in the City. Unfortunately, not even boarding house residents were safe from the ever present threat of fire. “About a quarter past 2 o’clock yesterday morning Constable Yates who was on duty near the Treasury buildings, noticed an outbreak of fire at 133 Macquarie Street north, a four storey house opposite the Gardens.” Although no-one was injured, five residents an members of staff had to be evacuated and “the police investigating the circumstances in connection with the outbreak…arrested a man on suspicion, who was taken to No. 4 police station [located in Phillip Street] and charged with being concerned in the affair.” 165 Henry Lawson: Poetical Works of Henry Lawson, p. 226. The City Bushman. 83 The district still somewhat fills this role today; with legal and medical offices in the few grand old structures that remain. 166 Suitably, the Australian Historical Society, at 133 Macquarie Street, now occupies one of the last of these sober and discrete boarding houses, in this case managed at the turn of the century by Mrs Jane Ware. 167 The northern end of the street toward Circular Quay was more highly commercial, with agricultural merchants, and the great wool stores buildings harking back to when Circular Quay provided the main docks for overseas shipping. 168 These would be eventually sacrificed in the late 1950s on the altar of Modernism; demolished to make way for the city’s first skyscraper, the AMP building. Most of the other classical commercial buildings from 1901 have also been replaced with modern glass towers. As well as observation points in significant buildings such as the Australian Club, 169 Macquarie Street provided the first major viewing opportunity for most people watching the Federation Parade from the ground. Crowds were accommodated on special constructed platforms on the flatter upper end of the street, while those taking their place in the throng on the slopes further down had to stand. What is most evident now walking north is this change in the alignment of the road, with the Macquarie Street hill running down to the harbour becoming steeper prior to the turn into Bridge Street. These changes in alignment would of course have been a major consideration for the parades in both Sydney and Melbourne, and are one of the notable features of my footstepping both processions. The geography of Sydney in particular would also have been evident to the participants and observers of the time. The Age from Melbourne reported concerns expressed by spectators viewing veterans from the 1885 Sudan contingent, and even older “veterans, white haired men who fought at Alma or Lucknow…They’ll never walk the five miles, observes a bystander.” 170 The observers’ concerns were no doubt warranted. As well as the previously mentioned lack of toilet facilities, there was a limited supply of water in particular for the military 166 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 22, 25. 167 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 94. This Society was itself founded in 1901 as a voluntary organisation funded by members and benefactors to “encourage Australians to understand more about their history”. Royal Australian Historical Society: Home Page online database. 168 Even in 1885, the military contingent to the Sudan had left from the eastern side of Circular Quay. 169 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 26. 170 The Age: 2 January 1901, p. 5. 84 participants, 171 even allowing for the fact that this was in the middle of a hot, muggy Sydney summer’s day. “For some reason, and notwithstanding the fact that the weather was disagreeably close, the South Australian soldiers were not allowed to carry their water bottles, and had to find water as best they could before and after the procession.” 172 While some admired the cut of the marching military personnel’s uniforms “with their glittering helmets, their enormous busbies [weighing as much as 8lb or 9lb –approx. 4 kg] and their tartan plaids”, others also recognised the limitations of these traditional heavy uniforms in the Australian climate. Again, The Daily Telegraph noted the relief that ensued when the “stand at ease order smote on the ears of the perspiring Britishers, with what wonderful unanimity came off all that heavy gear.” 173 6. THE MODERN CITY My footstepping continued along the ridge of Macquarie Street past the site of the still to be constructed Mitchell Library to the entrance to the Botanic Gardens, guarded then, as now, by the Captain Phillip Memorial fountain. 174 This ornate structure had only been unveiled on 22 July 1897 to commemorate the 60 th anniversary of Queen Victoria’s ascent to the throne. 175 Eighteen years earlier, however, this same location was the site of one of the first and most extravagant expressions of the developing rivalry between the old established Sydney and the new upstart Melbourne. After the stunning success of the Great 1851 London Exhibition at the Crystal Palace, the Australian colonies were inspired to present their own public displays, both as a source of civic prestige and a means of increasing trade with the Empire and the world. With the realisation that Melbourne was not only planning an international exhibition for 1880, but actually constructing a massive Exhibition Building in Carlton Gardens, the Agricultural Society of NSW proposed a similar trade fair to be held in the confined arena of Prince Alfred Park, adjacent to the then Sydney Railway Station at Redfern. 176 171 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 14. “The Federal troops were all on the seat at the back of the Hospital long before 9 o’clock. From 9:15am until shortly before troops fell in the New South Wales Catering Corps were busy taking water carts and supplying the water bottles of the tents.” 172 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 9. 173 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 9. 174 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 28. 175 The Sydney Morning Herald: 23 June 1897, p. 3. 176 Peter Bridges and Don McDonald: James Barnet, Colonial Architect, 1988, Hale & Iremonger, Sydney, p. 74. 85 Although the actual time and date of opening had been planned (1 August 1879, at noon) very little else had been thought through. Initially the whole proposal appeared half hearted, until the organisers were suddenly taken aback by the enthusiastic interest shown by nations such as France and Austria, and the realised that a larger site would be required. 177 The run of events then began to read a little like a comedy script, with the scheme progressing in defiance of every tradition of government project development. 178 Authorities heard that Melbourne had allocated ₤70,000 for their structure, and consequently the initial Sydney allocation of ₤18,000 was considered paltry. The Agricultural Society requested ₤50,000, but this new amount was rejected on the 20 November 1878 by the outgoing NSW Government. On 22 January 1879, however, the new Parkes Government approved the finances required, but by then public enthusiasm caused the project to take on a life of its own. Foundations had already been laid out by 16 January, with Government Architect James Barnet’s plans approved by the Society and footings being dug. It looked as though walls would begin to go up before details of the design and the supply and payment for materials had been finalised. 179 In the event the whole exercise was just too rushed and ill-conceived and the exhibition in Melbourne was deemed by even the Sydney press to have been a much greater success. 180 The diplomatic comment by the French Commissary-General, Captain Mathieu, declining his invitation to the Sydney Garden Palace opening says it all. “In so far as concerns my personal presence at the closing ceremony, I am compelled to make some reservation, for I believe that an affair of greater importance will call me to Melbourne about that time.” 181 The Agricultural Society was in disarray, with its secretary sacked “just in time for the opening of the Exhibition.” 182 177 Lenore Coltheart: Significant Sites – History and public works in NSW, 1989, Hale & Iremonger, Sydney, p. 67. 178 Peter Bridges and Don McDonald: James Barnet, Colonial Architect, p. 75. 179 Lenore Coltheart: Significant Sites – History and public works in NSW, p. 69. 180 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 March 1880, p. 5. 181 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 March 1880, p. 5. 182 Lenore Coltheart: Significant Sites – History and public works in NSW, p. 93. Geoffrey Blainey: A Land Half Won, chapt. 20. Added to this was the fact that both these grand trade fairs took place shortly before the nation entered what would be the greatest economic downturn then experienced, and which some commentators still consider to have been more socially destructive than that of the Depression of the 1930s. 86 Ultimately, the Exhibition Building was opened by Premier Henry Parkes on 17 September 1879, in a howling rain storm. 183 Visitors to the Garden Palace had to run the gauntlet of demonstrations by the unemployed, and the only real success turned out to be the public tram system from Redfern Railway Station which anticipated the similar route followed by the underground railway half a century later. 184 After all this, the exhibition did apparently become popular with the general citizenry, with over a million visitors during its seven month life, although financially and economically, it remained a drain on the colony. 185 It was probably considered to have been almost an anti-climax when the stylish but hastily built structure burned down on 22 September 1882. According to The Sydney Morning Herald, “The whole of the colony – indeed the whole of the Australasian colonies, and we might add, the whole of the civilised world (sic) – will hear [the news] with deep regret…..” 186 The fountain and statuary that took its place has remained in place for over a century: a monument to dogged determination and vision rather than poorly planned and executed display. Beyond the fountain, the Federation parade continued down the slope of Macquarie Street, to what was then, and has remained, one of the major intersections of the city: Conservatorium Road and Bridge Street. The thoroughfare going off to the right, then known as Government House Road, served its primary purpose as the formal entry to the large ornate Colonial Government House of NSW. The first edifice on the road at that time was the Government Stables, another building designed in 1821 by Francis Greenway. In 1901 this monumental structure was still being used for stabling the Vice- Regal horses, although its role would soon change dramatically. 187 In 1912 the McGowan State Labor Government decided to take advantage of the evolution of reliable automobile transport to transform the stables into a State Conservatorium of Music. 188 According to Grace Karskens, this was in response to a perceived need to 183 Peter Bridges and Don McDonald: James Barnet, Colonial Architect, p. 79. 184 Lenore Coltheart: Significant Sites – History and public works in NSW, p. 93. 185 Peter Bridges and Don McDonald: James Barnet, Colonial Architect, p. 80. 186 The Sydney Morning Herald: 23 September 1882, p. 7. 187 Lenore Coltheart: Significant Sites – History and public works in NSW, chapt. 6. 188 The Sydney Morning Herald: 28 July 1913, p. 10. Conservatorium of Music, Conversion of the Stables full steam ahead. “As is well known, the suit is directed against the right of the State Government to interfere with the property in any way, the attempted conversion of the stables into a conservatorium of music being one of the things regarding which the relators asked for an injunction against the decision of the High Court, setting aside the injunction granted by the State Supreme Court, the realtors are now appealing to the Privy Council; but in the meantime the conversion of the stables into a head centre of music is, accordance to a statement made on Saturday by Mr. Carmichael, going ‘full speed ahead.’” 87 foster “classical…serious…high class music… as morally and aesthetically superior, over the widespread and heavily patronised venues of popular music.” 189 Of all the sites and locations of the original march, Conservatorium Road is the one that has since been the most subsumed by the modern world. The original entry was a broad thoroughfare to both Government House on the left and the Government Stables on the right. In the late 1950s the construction of the Cahill Expressway across the top of Circular Quay meant that this entry intersection became the point of exit from the expressway before it entered the tunnel and gully that was now cutting the Domain off from the Botanical Gardens. 190 Perhaps Jeffrey Smart’s surreal painting of the exit to the Cahill Expressway below Shakespeare Place best evokes both the technological wonder and social alienation of the construction. 191 By the time the Sydney Harbour Tunnel was completed in 1992, the 1950s desire to be fashionably modern had been superseded by the 1990s need to simply control the traffic flow throughout the city and supplement the capacity of the now over-crowded Sydney Harbour Bridge. Adding in the access to the tunnel forced Conservatorium Road to become an even busier intersection, with the entry to Government House marginalised to an insignificant side road and the whole area becoming another dry concrete spaghetti junction. 192 This final physical marginalisation of the Vice-Regal carriageway coincided with an equally abrupt political ostracism. State Premier Bob Carr announced in 1996 that the NSW State Governor, at that time Gordon Samuels, would no longer reside in Government House, but in his own private residence in the coastal suburb of Bronte. 193 Government House would become a social and cultural centre for the state, 189 Grace Karskens: The Colony – a history of early Sydney. Lenore Coltheart: Significant Sites – History and public works in NSW, p. 121. This social conflict between supposed high art, and popular culture has remained a characteristic of Sydney, with both its raffish and slightly disreputable history, and its equally robust desire to overcome this past. 190 Alan Birch and David S Macmillan: The Sydney Scene 1788-1960, pp. 376-377. Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a history, p. 153. If overseas countries had elevated expressways and road tunnels, a new expressway would show that this city was up there with the rest of the world. Department of Main Roads Commissioner H M Sherrard saw the work as a “major contribution to town planning in Sydney.” 191 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 25. 192 UBD: Sydney Street Directory 2000, maps C, D. These maps shows as well as any others the desperate need to link the two sides of the harbour, and the sacrifices that have been made over the decades to accomplish this. Fort Street School, the heritage precinct of Circular Quay, the Botanic Gardens and Shakespeare Place have all suffered isolation and reduction for the cause. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 31. 193 Kerry Jones: The People’s Protest, 2000, ACM Publishing, Sydney, p. 67. 88 but no longer the residence of the monarch’s representative in NSW. 194 Ironically, the building then adapted to house the NSW State Governor was, at the time of Federation, known as the Colonial Secretary’s Office, providing the most tangible administrative link to the British Crown. 195 Previously, Australia’s first Governor General, Earl Hopetoun had stepped ashore at Bennelong Point on the western side of Farm Cove at 10:00am on 15 December 1900, with Chief Justice Sir Frederick Darley administering the oath of office. 196 The Man O’War steps marked not only this significant event but would also be the landing point for the May arrival of the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York on their return from the opening of Federal Parliament in Melbourne. And the same location would again be employed half a century later for the 1954 arrival of the newly crowned Queen Elizabeth II. 197 The Floral Pavilion on the harbour was mirrored by the second arch on the route of the Federation parade, the Vice-Regal Welcome Arch that spanned the roadway leading to State Government House. After the landing at Farm Cove, Lord Hopetoun’s carriage progressed up the slope of Macquarie Street to this entry to Government House, to be greeted not by a classical representation of Imperial grandeur, but by a structure festooned with greenery, lace, flowers and a gilded welcome sign across its width. Palm fronds and ivy would have given a joyous, perhaps almost biblical impression during the day, while at night the “wonderfully softening effect of the modern electric lights likened the scene to a well-manipulated transformation scene in a pantomime.” 198 This was not so much the imperious grandeur of British heritage and authority that was being demonstrated to the new representative of the crown, but rather the joyous possibility and freshness of a new nation. 199 Was the greenery of hope and expectation in a country that was fluctuating in and out of drought, within a monument that would 194 ABC Radio: Virginia Trioli 702AM interview with P J Keating, 24 May 2007. With the current Governor, Maria Bashir, comfortably ensconced in the former Chief Secretary’s Building in Macquarie Street, the most lasting legacy of Carr’s presumptive action was, according to former Prime Minister Paul Keating, to alienate enough of the city’s population to aid in the defeat of his government in the 1996 Federal election. 195 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, Sydney, p. 16. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 29. 196 George Forbes: History of Sydney, 1926, William Brooks & Co, Sydney, pp. 27-48. 197 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 24. 198 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 9. 199 Compare this floral extravaganza with the equally ebullient floral tributes laid on the earlier statue of Queen Victoria at the top of Macquarie Street. 89 be mirrored by the Wool and Wheat Arches further down Bridge Street, both the embodiment of the Australian Bush, but also a reflection of the European vegetation of the city? 200 Certainly The Sydney Morning Herald thought so, spending considerable time describing the arch, although also pointing out that the attempt to accommodate the structure within the original short narrow sandstone entrance meant that: “The designers were met with immovable obstacles in the shape of two heavy stone piers on which the main gates ordinarily swing … converting the two piers into stunted obelisks of greenery.” 201 The entry to Bridge Street from Macquarie Street is still guarded by these sandstone bastions of civic power, although their modern role has been much diminished. 202 The Chief Secretary’s Building on the upper western corner is still a government building, and as mentioned, the previous residence of the NSW State Governor. In 1901, ironically next door at number 123 was a lowly boarding house belonging to a Miss M J Edwards. 203 As with the Australia Club this house would have been well located to offer accommodation for out of city visitors to the medical establishments along Macquarie Street, albeit at a cheaper rate. The house is now the Astor Hotel, while the remainder of the block southwards back towards Bent Street and the old Mitchell Library comprised at the time medical offices, surgeries and private hotels. 204 On the other northern corner of Bridge Street was the State Treasury Building, which now contains within it the tower of the Inter-Continental Hotel. 205 It is again worth remembering that what we now think of as the heritage buildings in this precinct would have been newly constructed late Victorian edifices at the time the Federation parade passed by. As Fitzgerald puts it; “Grand public buildings, which were conspicuous by their absence in the 1870s according to English and Melburnian observers, were very much in evidence by 1890.” 206 Such grand buildings were part of the growing realisation of the role government had to play in organising civic life, and, consequently, of the role of taxation in needing to pay for the new instrumentalities. In this they reflected the significance of tariffs and taxes that were raised at the old 200 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 31. 201 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 13. 202 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 29-30. 203 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 94. 204 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map B. 205 Intercontinental Hotels and Resorts: or “Intercontinental Ballistic Missile”, as it is sometimes referred. City of Sydney online database. 206 Shirley Fitzgerald: Rising Damp – Sydney 1870-1890, p. 69. 90 colonial borders, and the consequent significance of the convoluted discussions over taxation revenue in the lead up to the adoption of a Federal Constitution. 207 If the footstepper takes a slight detour at this stage, and continues travelling north down Macquarie Street towards Circular Quay, they will reach the site of the original Government Analyst’s Office. On the corner of yet another testament to the monarch’s consort, Albert Street, was the Board of Health; now the Ritz Carlton Hotel. It was in this office that John Ashburton Thompson isolated the bubonic plague bacilli, and thus unravelled the life cycle of the disease that had caused so much fear and social dislocation a mere year prior to the Federation. 208 In view of the Prince Consort’s concern with issues of health and public welfare it was thus fitting that for most of the intervening century this site, and the current adjacent Justice and Police Museum, was the location of the Blue Light Clinic for the control and treatment of venereal disease within the city. 209 7. INDUSTRY AND AGRICULTURE Returning to the intersection of Macquarie and Bridge Streets, the Federation parade now turned left and plunged down from the fashionable heights of Macquarie Street into Bridge Street, and the hustle and bustle of the working city. 210 Although not indicated in any of the photographs of the time, on the northern side at the top of Bridge Street, and one of the first locations now passed by the parade, was one of the city’s main tramway termini and the office of the tramway manager, James Roberts. 211 Sydney at the time was in the process of not only expanding the tramway network, but also converting from the older steam and cable trams to electric. Although most of the inner city’s streets were paved with hardwood blocks, these were being lifted along the main thoroughfares running north to south for the new tram tracks to be laid. The 207 Kathleen Dermody: A Nation at Last – the Story of Federation, 1997, The Commonwealth of Australia, Canberra, pp. 39-52 et passim. Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, p. 428. 208 Patricia Morison: John Ashburton Thompson Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 209 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Revised Maxi Sydney Street Directory of Sydney 1988, map AA. 210 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 33. 211 John Sands: Sand’s Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 16. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 34. 91 process had begun in 1898, with most of the lines converted by 1910. 212 However, the woodblocks remained on many of the city streets until the 1930s, and the route of the Federation parade would have traversed the blocks under George, Pitt and Park Streets. As well as providing a rugged surface for horses and wheeled vehicles, the blocks were seen at the time as an efficient use for the same local hard wood that colonial architects and builders had considered unsuitable for building construction. 213 Heavier horse drawn transport and the later motor car were dealt with by stone blocks at busy intersections, the wooden blocks being hammered close together at regular intervals and covered by tar and sand. Although one of the most extensive systems in the world, Sydney’s tram network had to respond to the hilly terrain throughout the metropolis, with the result that it operated as virtually half a dozen separate systems joined tenuously at various terminus points within the city. The depot in Bridge Street served the expanding Eastern Suburbs, with other sites such as the soon to be constructed Central Railway serving the West, and Milson’s Point, the isolated North Shore lines as yet unconnected by a bridge across the harbour. 214 As with so many other aspects of the nation’s development, efficient electrified transport was the result of the drive and initiative of one individual. John Job Crew Bradfield had joined the NSW Public Works Department in 1891 and set about introducing what would become a world class public transport system. 215 This would climax with the construction of the Sydney Underground Railway in 1926 and the Harbour Bridge in 1932. 216 Bradfield also developed a reputation for being “not unaware of his own brilliance and [one who] suffered fools none too gladly.” 217 212 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 17. The Sydney Morning Herald: 12 June 1901, p. 13. This could apparently not come soon enough. Tram Derailed, Traffic delayed in Broadway. “Before turning out of Broadway, a portion of the gear of the car fell, and caused the rear car to leave the rails. The tram continued for some distance after the mishap, and cut up the wooden blocks of the track, but luckily the derailed car remained upright.” 213 NSW State Government: Sydney Streets online database. “From today’s perspective the use of so much hardwood for street making seems profligate, but in 1880 it seemed the Australian bush could yield up a cheap and durable source of urban improvement for the foreseeable future, and the roads, which were better than anything previously built, were enormously popular.” 214 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, pp. 17, 36. 215 Peter Spearritt: John Job Crew Bradfield (1867-1943), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, chapt 7, p. 17. 216 David Burke: Making the Railways, pp. 203-211. 217 David Burke: Making the Railways, p. 203. 92 “Bradfield does not question the ‘divinity’ of this instinct, so captivated was he by his vision of Sydney becoming a ‘New York in miniature’.” 218 By the 1950s, the inner city was becoming choked by both public transport and motor vehicle traffic, while the large industrial estates and suburbs in the west were now populated by workers who were given no public transport alternative. 219 So the tram lines were torn up within the course of four years, and replaced by buses. 220 Most of the trams themselves were then taken to the Randwick depot and burned. 221 This ideal of progress was not new of course. It would be the soon to be mentioned demolitions along the western side of the city as a result of plague that would provide Bradfield with the impetus to continue the “cleansing” process by demolishing the central road through the Rocks, and the block behind Wynyard for the road, rail and tram approaches to the Sydney Harbour Bridge. In fact, memory of the still existent tram station under Wynyard returned through my walk as I detoured down to Darling Harbour. What was noticeable most about this section of the route is the steepness of the street. 222 Marching soldiers would have coped quite easily going down the hill, but it would have been interesting to view the passing of horse drawn vehicles, particularly the heavy floats and cars. Other equally steep city streets with rising grades were to provide more of an issue. Bridge Street also contained the next two celebratory arches on the Federation parade route: the Wool Arch and the Wheat Arch. 223 As representatives of commerce and agricultural industry, it was very apt that these two structures should have been erected in the business and corporate heart of the city. More than any other 218 Lenore Coltheart: Significant Sites – History and public works in New South Wales, p. 151. Coltheart herself is quoting Richard Raxworthy’s 1989 work, perhaps aptly titled: J J C Bradfield: the Unreasonable Man. 219 The Sydney Morning Herald: 18 July 1933, p. 10. This has been a perennial issue for Sydney. Western Suburbs, Future of Tramway Services. “Mr. Humphrey M Earl , honorary secretary of the Haymarket-Central-square Association, yesterday expressed the fear that if the Commissioner for Transport (Mr. Maddocks) had his way, it was more than likely that the districts of Drummoyne, Ryde, and adjoining suburbs would be depleted of all tram services.” 220 As the Lost Tramways online database notes: “The last Pitt St and Castlereagh St trams ran in 1957 on a Saturday night at 1:00am (29 September 1957). Within minutes of the trams’ run the overhead wires were pulled down, and the next morning (a Sunday) the tracks were paved over, to ensure there would be no return of the trams even if the buses should prove inadequate. This shows pretty clearly that there were forces at work other than just desire for efficiency here.” 221 Sydney Living Museums: Shooting through like a Bondi Tram, Our Heritage online database. “Divested of most salvageable items, trams were eventually taken to ‘burning hill’ at the Randwick tram workshops. There, Oswald ‘Mick’ Price, an ageing Gallipoli veteran and Sydney’s only professional tram burner, reduced Sydney’s fleet of trams to a pile of ash.” 222 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 35, 36. 223 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 36-38. 93 arches, these blended into their locations with a logic that no doubt would have been obvious at the time by providing a link between the bustle of the city and the agricultural districts in the country that provided so much of this wealth. 224 The large number of agents, brokers and merchants resident in the smaller buildings that ran down the northern side of the street was a testament to the commercial nature of the location. 225 Along with a couple of architects: Thomas Tidwell and J H Buckridge, with their offices on Bridge Street, 226 the Sands’ Directory for 1900 also lists: Mrs E MacLellan, artist in portraiture; Miss L Wright, teacher of dancing; and Mrs J G Barron, Christian healer. In view of the fact that this would have been a wealthy district, with substantial offices even in the minor buildings, it seems notable that at least three women were professionally successful enough to be listed in the area. Perhaps our current view on the limitations that the culture of the time placed upon women is over-simplified. The recent Canberra Times article “Women undervalued in the workplace” implies that women themselves contribute to their own undervaluing, in the modern era, 227 and that the issue has always been as much about personal initiative as gender. Certainly a year before Federation, women were also being appointed as sanitary inspectors in Sydney: “Women as Sanitary Inspectors. England already had female sanitary inspectors and Lady Darley, Miss Macdonald, Miss Rose Scott and a number of other women have written to Treasury urging their appointment in Sydney.” 228 As well as providing a route through this very affluent and potent part of the city, the street also offered a creative advantage. Unlike the wide vista of Macquarie Street, Bridge Street was narrow enough for arches to span the width of the roadway, and provide a physical concentration for the procession that would become even more pronounced as it progressed further into the city, and with most of the current buildings already in place in 1901, this sensation is still very evident today. 224 The Daily Telegraph: 15 December 1900, p9. 225 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 15. All manner of industries were represented: The Adelaide Steamship Company, Bulli Colliery, Namoi Meat-preserving and Boiling- down Company, and even sharing 6 Bridge Street was the Year Book of Australia and Publishing Company Limited. 226 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 16. 227 The Canberra Times: 16 June 1993, p. 13. 228 The Sydney Morning Herald: 23 May 1900, p. 10. 94 Travelling down the southern side of Bridge Street, past the Chief Secretary’s Building, the parade would have reached the Department of Works, now occupied by the Museum of Sydney. 229 Soon after Federation the old departmental building on the corner of Bridge and Phillip Streets was demolished and the vacant site used for vehicle parking. When the site was being planned for high rise development in 1983, colonial wall footings were uncovered, and it was realised that this was the site of Governor Phillip’s original 1788 Government House. 230 The Wran State Government then proposed setting aside the site for a museum to commemorate the settlement of the city. 231 What is clear is that the site is still very much a work in progress in that the current small size limits the scope and restricts the concept of a true City Museum to one that primarily locates this site of national significance. One of the most notable aspects of this museum’s location is the effect that it has had on the immediate surrounds. The corner next to the Museum into Young Street still retains four original terrace houses, although even by the time of the Federation March in 1901 these houses were being occupied by offices. 232 At the time of the parade, Mrs C McGlade resided at number 41, the house on the corner of Young and Bridge Streets, while the other terraces, from number 36 to 42, contained the Registrar’s Office for the Friendly Societies and Trades Union, the Board of Exports and the Public Service Tender Board. 233 The only other row of terraces now remains around the corner in Phillip Street, along from the other side of the Museum of Sydney. 234 How these residences managed to survive the wholesale demolitions of the past still seems quite remarkable: fortuitous may be the term; but at least with current attitudes towards heritage and preservation, their chance of survival is improved. Between Young and Loftus Street was the Department of Public Instruction, and still remains as the NSW Department of Education. 235 Originally meant to house the 229 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 16. 230 The Sydney Morning Herald: 20 November 1993, p. 15. History underfoot in new museum on significant site. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Revised Maxi Street Directory of Sydney 1988, map AA. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map B. 231 Photograph Booklet 1, p. 35. A cynic might have suggested that the premier was still smarting from the 1983 demolition of the Art Deco Rural Bank building in Martin Place, and such a new museum would help the pacify the growing conservation movement. John Haskell: Haskell’s Sydney, p. 72. 232 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 34. 233 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, pp. 94, 157. 234 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map B. 235 NSW Heritage Council: The Department of Education Building online database. 95 Department of Agriculture, the rapidly expanding state education system requisitioned these massive offices just as the first stage of the late Victorian Romanesque / Edwardian Baroque structure was coming to completion. 236 One only has to link the 1887 construction date with the 1882 establishment of Camdenville Public School, and the formal resumption of the building by the Department in 1914 to demonstrate the rapid expansion of public education in the Federation years. At the time of the Federation parade, this building was only partially complete, with the Bridge Street façade not yet constructed. In its place was a large fig tree that had been “converted into a fairy tree, twinkling with hundreds of electric lights,” for the Federation festivities. 237 The next block was, and still is, the State Lands Department. As with the other stately Victorian structures, this building would have been regarded at the time as almost brand new, having been completed a decade earlier in 1891. 238 While the modern footstepper may regard the street as one of great heritage significance, at the time this would have been the most modern and up to date route to follow. The Wool Arch was therefore suitably located on the corner of Loftus Street, with the Circular Quay end of both Loftus and Young Streets containing the major wool centres for the city. 239 This arch itself was confronted with the same issue as many others at the time; the weather. Constructed of wool, the structure suffered with the rain storm that preceded the event, and although dramatic at the time of its construction, was a little bedraggled by the time the parade actually passed underneath. 240 The designer, Hugh Ross, engineer and also Legislative Representative for the state seat of Narrabri had envisaged classical columns not unlike the Coal Arch, but constructed of solid unpressed wool. Had this design gone ahead, the sodden result would have been not only even less inspiring, but also quite dangerous. The next idea offered by the Government Architect was to create a giant sheep standing astride the street, under which the parade would pass. 241 As with the giant ram that has fulfilled a similar role at Goulburn for quite a few decades now, this form would have mirrored the symbol of the Golden Fleece that 236 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, pp. 116-119. 237 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 8. 238 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 57. 239 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 36. 240 The Daily Telegraph: 15 December 1900, p. 9. Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – the story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, pp. 31-32. 241 The Sydney Mail: 8 December 1900, p. 1357. 96 was becoming a pervasive icon in advertising. 242 But again, cost common sense ruled, and a timber and wire frame was constructed supported by solid bales on the ground, upon which scoured wool was secured through the holes in the netting. 243 The usual anticipated trophies and flags festooned the structure, although as well, ornamental shields on the piers listed the names of pioneer wool growers and merchants. 244 Milne envisaged a similar mix of responses to this construction as with the earlier Coal Arch. On the one hand, the probable sense of pride in industry on the part of country visitors who would have seen their own culture and social contribution recognised, and at the same time, the temptation presented to city folk to partake of the fruits of industry in a more ad hoc and literal fashion. Locals again seemed to have flinched pieces of wool from the arch, although what they would do with the material if they did not have access to carding and spinning facilities, remains a mystery. Unlike the coal arch, this wool would not seem to have been immediately useful in any quantity, and the smaller amounts taken were probably more likely mere souvenirs. 245 It would also appear that inter-colonial (to become inter-state) sniping was already evident. While the West Australian newspaper described the overall celebrations as “A Gorgeous Display”, it was less impressed with the Wool Arch, noting that: “on one side stood a poorly designed model of a merino ewe, and on the other a ram…..both of which appeared……to have claims upon the giraffe as an ancestor.” 246 The next location on my walk down Bridge Street, and one that would have been viewed as most significant at the time was Macquarie Place, now Macquarie Place Park; originally the geographical centre of the city. It was from the obelisk in this park that all distances in the city and the state of NSW were measured until the decade before Federation. 247 Macquarie Place celebrated Australia’s great pioneers: Governor Lachlan Macquarie himself and Thomas Sutcliffe Mort, through his 1883 statue. According to The Daily Telegraph, this statue even played its part in the Federation parade. “Mort’s Statue, situated at the apex of the triangle, accommodated a score of boys of all sorts 242 Ken Arnold: Australian Tins, 2005, Crown Castleton Publishers, Bendigo, p. 14. 243 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – the story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 32. 244 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – the story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 32. 245 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – the story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 33. 246 The West Australian: 2 January 1901, p. 12. Alternatively the fact that the same phrase was used in the same issue of the South Australian Register and a later issue of the Western Mail would indicate a level of syndication on the part of “Our Special Reporter” as much as sniping. 247 Grace Karskens: The Colony – a history of early Sydney, p. 204. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 41. 97 and sizes.” 248 Between the time of the Federation Parade and my current retracing of the route, a century of re-development had already occurred, and this site reflects much of that later social and political history. By 1934, the short street running from Macquarie Place to Circular Quay had been named Arbitration Place, 249 and has since have been subsumed by corporate skyscrapers, while the remaining space renamed Jessie Street Gardens. At the other apex of Macquarie Place, on the corner of Gresham Street stood the other homage to agricultural industry, the Wheat Arch; also known as the Agricultural Arch. 250 This structure again reflected the reliance upon the bush for the wealth of the new nation, and was erected by representatives of the agriculturalists of the colony through Mr Winchcombe MLA and the NSW Minister for Agriculture, Mr Fegan. Since the government was paying for two thirds of the cost of the arch, the remainder being raised by subscription, control over the design remained with officials McMillan, Rickard and McQueen. 251 Although it appeared to be another attempt to be modern in architectural design, being covered with sheaves of wheat, the structure was also classical in its overall arched design and included the words “Ceres Welcomes The Commonwealth”. 252 Milne mentions that images of the time supposedly did not do the arch justice. 253 Perhaps after the earlier rain storm, the thing really did look as bedraggled as it appears in photographs. At the bottom of Bridge Street stood the old Stock Exchange, with its accompanying hotel, now replaced by the Exchange Offices. Photographs of the original Federation era building show a strong classical structure that would have been another institution that fell automatically into the route of the parade, and in fact provided the pivot for the march to turn left into Pitt Street. The actual Stock Exchange itself was transplanted to the opposite corner in 1961 with the demolition by Lend Lease of the ornate building, despite another public outcry. 254 The current modern working institution is quite an 248 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 14. 249 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Street Directory of Sydney & Suburbs, 1934, map 3. 250 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 38. 251 The Sydney Morning Herald: 19 December 1900, p. 7. 252 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 34. 253 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 33. 254 State Library of NSW: Don McPhedran images online database, 11 September 1961. 98 attractive building, with façadism again placing an even more modern skyscraper behind and unobserved. 255 8. JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR At the bottom of Bridge Street the march took a sharp turn to the left to proceed up Pitt Street. Why the parade did not continue on to the main thoroughfare of George Street is interesting to contemplate. In none of the records or programmes of the time does there appear to be an actual explanation of this, although the Citizens’ Commonwealth Committee states in Recommendation 6: “That the route of procession should be from Circular Quay, through Loftus Street to Macquarie Place, to Pitt Street, to Martin Place to George Street, past the Town Hall, To Bathurst Street, into Pitt Street, back to Park Street, to College Street, up Oxford Street to Ocean Street, into Centennial Park.” 256 So we must surmise to a large degree. 257 The next two arches, the French and American, would have represented sentiments of independence, modernism and the view to the future, and Pitt Street even at this time would have already seemed to exemplify this sense with towering buildings creating a canyon reminiscent of the skyscrapers of Chicago and New York. 258 The route along Pitt Street would also have afforded the opportunity for the marchers to then traverse the newly created hub of Martin Place. However, there is another possible explanation. Almost exactly a year previously, plague had broken out on the western side of Sydney, and a large part of the city between George Street and Darling Harbour had been quarantined, cleared and even demolished as part of the control and eradication process. 259 The division of the city by the gully of the old Tank Stream has remained as a symbolic line of separation between the slope to the east from Pitt Street back to Macquarie Street, and the western slope to 255 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 40. 256 The Sydney Morning Herald: 30 October 1900, p. 6. Citizens’ Commonwealth Committee. A Series of Recommendations. 257 The Sydney Morning Herald: 29 December 1900, p. 9. All such programmes do make a point of mentioning the parade route into Pitt Street. 258 The Sydney Morning Herald: 10 July 1912, p. 17. This development was not welcomed by all of course “The Skyscraper, should it be sanctioned?” 259 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, chapts. 6, 7. Photograph Booklet 1, p. 43. 99 George Street and thence to Darling Harbour. 260 If the influence of the plague had remained strong at the time of the Federation parade, then George Street at this point would have been a most notable adjacent reminder of the failings of the new society. Plague of course has been a common occurrence in human experience for millennia, and greatly feared for most of this time due not only to its deadly consequences, but also its unknown cause. 261 The outbreak in Sydney that began in January 1900 was, in many respects, a watershed representing the cultural bridge between ancient fears and attempts to deal with the eternal problem, and the eventual discovery of the cause of the disease and the ability of the modern science to render the pestilence relatively harmless. Australia was not the only nation to have been affected at this time, and it certainly was not the worst. At the beginning of the twentieth century, many countries around the Pacific Rim found themselves attacked by outbreaks of Bubonic Plague. The source is still open to dispute, although most commentators agree that it probably came, via shipping, from China. 262 While Australia would lose 165 people prior to Federation, and upwards of 500 over the subsequent two decades, countries such as China itself and India suffered fatalities in the tens of thousands, with maritime centres as far removed as San Francisco and even Glasgow recording a significant number of deaths. 263 This disease, virulent in both pneumonic and bubonic forms harked back in cultural memory to the pestilences of the Middle Ages in Europe, so a level of concern was to be expected. At first however, the reaction was rather different. While there was apprehension with the initial outbreak, the official response was muted to say the least. The Daily Telegraph could claim that: “Some consternation was caused in the city yesterday [24 January 1900] by a rumour that a case of the plague from Dawes Point had been reported to the health authorities. Inquiries showed that there was some foundation for the report, though no great cause for alarm.” 264 260 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps A, B. For some reason, virtually all street directories also break the pages for the CBD of Sydney along the alignment of the old Tank Stream. 261 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, chapt. 1. 262 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, p. 29. 263 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, pp. 36-37. 264 The Daily Telegraph: 25 January 1900, p. 7. 100 Thus did Arthur Payne, ship’s carter from Ferry Lane, Dawes Point, become the first recorded victim of plague in Australia. Even by 29 January, The Sydney Morning Herald could still state that: “A surprisingly small amount of interest has been manifested by the medical profession of this Colony in the outbreak of plague which according to the authorities was experienced by the man Payne.” 265 The small amount of interest extended to the press not even being sure whether the poor man’s name was spelled Payne or Paine. 266 Allowing for the then general ignorance of the specific agent, the mode of transmission, and the fact that there was no known cure at the time, the initial response of the press and the city fathers was remarkably low key. 267 One can compare the experience of plague, as reported in Sydney through 1900, with that much earlier occurrence in London in 1665, as reported by Daniel Defoe. While Defoe was apparently only five years old when the pestilence actually struck, his famous journal published half a century later in 1722, must have been based upon a mixture of first and second hand resources. However, his record instils a real sense of panic from the very beginning, both from Defoe himself and from the other Londoners. “London might well be said to be all in Tears: the Mourners did not go about the Streets indeed, for no Body put on black, or made a formal Dress of Mourning for their nearest Friends; but the Voice of Mourning was truly heard in the Streets: the Shrieks of Women and Children at the Windows, and Doors of the Houses…..” 268 By the late 1800s, the germ theory had enabled people to see the theoretical link between dirt and filth and disease. Theoretical that is, since actually doing something about the living conditions of the times still unfortunately required the impetus of social tragedy. In Sydney, sewerage continued to be discharged directly into the harbour on either side of Circular Quay. 269 Even with the relatively small population of the city at 265 The Sydney Morning Herald: 29 January 1900, p. 5. 266 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, 1989, University of NSW Press, p. 116. Note the Sydney Evening News: 9 February 1900 where the spelling is Payne while country newspapers such as the Clarence River Advocate: 26 January 1900 spell Paine. 267 Note the many issues of The Bulletin, such as March 3, 10, 17 1901, where the issue of plague, the connection with rats, and even the bounty of 2d per dozen captured rodents are suitable subjects for humour. The fact that a refreshing ale could theoretically be purchased with the presentation of half a dozen rats does strike one as amusing. When one compares the outbreak of plague in 1900 with the arrival of equally incurable agents such as AIDS and SARS eighty and ninety years later, the initial mildness of the response seems all the more remarkable. 268 Daniel Defoe: A Journal of the Plague Year, 1969, Oxford University Press, Oxford, p. 16. This certain contrasted with the muted reaction in Sydney. 269 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, p. 83. 101 the time, around 538,000 people, 270 the stench must have been overpowering. It was a most notable event when the Bondi Sewer was expanded in 1888, 271 but this certainly did not cope with the whole population, and of course could only eliminate waste from those latrines that were actually connected in the first place. John Ashburton Thompson was yet another one of those remarkable individuals who were to influence the city of Sydney. A public health administrator from Britain who, ironically, had travelled to New Zealand and then Australia in 1878 for his own health, Thompson became, president of the New South Wales Board of Health. 272 As early as 1878 French physician Paul-Louis Simond had delivered a paper indicating the connection whereby the plague bacillus was transferred from rat to rat, and also from rat to human, by the rat’s fleas. However these findings would not be totally accepted until 1907. 273 Meanwhile Ashburton Thompson was able to convince local authorities that contagion was limited to this partially understood process. “The popular notion regarding the bubonic plague is that it is dangerous to come within a stone’s throw of a patient; but this is an absolute mistake.” 274 In the end, eradication consisted of direct elimination of the rats that were seen as the primary sources of infection and the elimination of the conditions that bred the rats. The block bounded by Margaret, Kent and Sussex Streets south to the Haymarket was quarantined through much of 1900, 275 with cleanliness considered an integral aspect of control. According to Thompson, “The reason [why Japanese doctors contracted plague] was ascribed to their not always washing their hands after attending upon a patient….I think that plague is less dangerous, so far as contagion is concerned , than scarlet fever, and between plague and typhus fever there is absolutely no comparison.” 276 270 Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, p. 158. The various outfalls would each have been dealing with only a fraction of this number. 271 The Sydney Morning Herald: 24 April 1888, p. 5. 272 Patricia Morison: John Ashburton Thompson (1846-1915), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 273 Simond, Godley, Mouriquand; Journal of the Royal Society of Medicine, volume 91, February 1998, Louis Simond and his discovery of plague transmission by rat fleas: a Centenary. 274 The Brisbane Courier: 29 January 1900, p. 6. Extended interview with Ashburton Thompson. 275 The Sydney Morning Herald: 10 April 1900, p. 3. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 44. 276 The Brisbane Courier: 29 January 1900, p. 6. Extended interview with Ashburton Thompson. 102 There may well have been a class based and racially based bias in the ease with which streets were closed and premises readily demolished, but according to the evidence, the local working class people and the Chinese really were living in filth and squalor. 277 The amount of garbage that was taken out from the Darling Harbour precinct beggars belief. According to Curson and McCracken, 28,455 tons of garbage were dumped at sea and a further 25,430 tons burnt. 278 Over twenty seven thousand rats were also destroyed, causing one to imagine how many of these difficult to find and catch little creatures actually inhabited the not overly expansive quarter. 279 The lack of sewerage and adequate garbage disposal was always the responsibly of civic authorities in Sydney, but the general squalor and filthy disease breeding environment was equally seen as the responsibility of the people living there themselves. 280 If the plague did originate in China, and if the Chinese living on the edge of Darling Harbour were existing in filth, then targeting this community was not totally illogical. 281 Initially not enough was done, and in the end, probably too much was done. It should be remembered that this was the era before there were any antibiotics and effective chemical treatment for the disease; and of course only just when the cause of the plague was being widely acknowledged in the first place. Much of the district bounded by Margaret and Clarence Streets, Sussex and Erskine Streets was cleansed, fumigated and then demolished. 282 The deplorable state of affairs was there for all to see, and someone needed to be blamed. 283 Just as the Darling Harbour plague districts were readily demolished to safeguard the city’s health, so the original Darling Harbour wharves were then demolished, eventually to be replaced with wide concrete arenas necessary for the later introduction of containerisation. 284 The other principal plague outbreak in Sydney was at the southern end of Hyde Park; in the district known as Wexford Street. As with the Haymarket, this area had accommodated a changing population that depended upon employment in the docks and 277 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 45. 278 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, p. 157. 279 The Sydney Morning Herald: 17 April 1900, p. 3. Rat Catching Operations. 280 The Sydney Morning Herald: 22 March 1901, p4. “They [the old quarters of cities] stagnate, or, worse, they degenerate; and become in time the resort of the wretchedness and alien squalor. It is not always practicable, but when practicable it is certainly desirable, to bring these places once more into the main stream of civic life.” 281 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, p.174. 282 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 45, 46. 283 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, chapt. 9. 284 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 47, 48 103 cargo distribution warehouses for the city. Originally housing the Irish immigrants who gave the district its name, by the time of Federation, many of the inhabitants were also Chinese. As the NSW colonial government was already in the process of planning the massive reconstruction of what would become Central Railway, and since there had already been demolition of plague ridden houses along the dockland front of Darling Harbour, it was deemed acceptable to demolish substandard housing in this region as well. In fact, it was apparently the Irish themselves who petitioned that the newly cleared area be no longer referred to as Wexford Street, believing that it reflected poorly on the aspirations of Irish culture. 285 The Chinese appeared to be viewed always as a special case due to their numbers, and also because so many were returning to China without presenting an obvious loyalty to the nation. The fact that so many of the British settlers were doing the same thing was rarely mentioned. 286 What we would consider to be blatant overt racism appeared endemic. There are ironic comments by author and literary personality Frank Clune, born in 1893 in Surry Hills. Clune describes taunting Chinese in the Haymarket and pulling their pigtails as a little boy (prior to the 1911 revolution, Chinese, even in Australia often wore the pigtail). “Many a time I was ‘given a chase’ along Campbell Street by an irate Chinese for pulling his pigtail or playing some other prank on him.” 287 Either a casual racism or simply the exuberant youthfulness of even a relatively sensitive young Australian perhaps reflected the tenor of the times. What strikes the reader today are not so much the actions themselves, as the perceived acceptability of repeating the episode in a printed publication. The complexity of this situation can be gauged by the means with which authorities attempted to control the Chinese population of the city, while at the same time recognising how much the city was dependent upon Chinese skills. The very day prior to Federation, the NSW Minister for Works stated that “in future, all furniture for Government departments shall be obtained only from firms who are supplied by European workmen”. 288 The claimed concern was with the rates of pay and the hours of labour, where “the lot of the masses can be improved.” 289 In other words, the pay and 285 The Daily Telegraph: 13 April 1900, p. 6. 286 Note the experience of members of the Australian artistic community: Melbourne parade chapter. 287 Frank Clune: Saga of Sydney, 1962, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, p. 149. 288 The Daily Telegraph: 31 December 1900, p. 4. 289 The Daily Telegraph: 31 December 1900, p. 4. 104 conditions of Australian workmen were being undermined. Yet people were still dependent upon Chinese made furniture, and were apparently happy to buy pieces made by the non-British. The degree to which the city of Sydney was equally dependent upon food from the Chinese market gardens was significant. The alluvial flats from Kogarah, behind Botany Bay, north to the Gumbramorra Swamp and the Cooks River, supplied a large part of the daily requirements of the city until well after the Second World War: 290 and many of these market gardens were run by Chinese. 291 This hub of Chinese agricultural enterprise can still be tracked by following the road map from Scarborough Park Ramsgate north to Kyeemagh. 292 The low lying productive land then traces from Mackey Park in Marrickville South, north west to Sydenham and the aptly named Garden Street. 293 9. PITT STREET REPUBLICANS My footstepping now returned to the lower end of Bridge Street and, as did the march a century ago, followed the route into Pitt Street and the canyons of commerce. 294 Sydney was sited alongside the Tank Stream that provided the original source of fresh water for the colony, although it is now little more than an underground covered drain running below the gully between Pitt and George Streets. 295 The alignment of the stream is still evident in the low elevation of land from the GPO in Martin Place, through the myriad of small lanes past Australia Square to the western end of Circular 290 Richard Cashman and Chrys Meader: Marrickville – rural outpost to inner city, p. 165. 291 Richard Cashman and Chrys Meader: Marrickville – rural outpost to inner city, p. 144. 292 The Sydney Morning Herald: 21 December 1886, p. 11. The large half page article Market Gardens describes the methods used and the locations based around the Cooks River and Shea’s Creek. “Whilst there are many points in the Chinese mode of cultivating vegetables which are open to criticism [these points that were at once “disgusting and prejudicial to health” included using human excreta as fertiliser], there are also features which must call forth admiration in every unprejudiced mind. They are economical of everything but their labour; they live amongst us, but are not of us;” 293 Evening News: 1 October 1884, p6. Garden Street Marrickville. Even in 1884 the perils of developing the flood prone agricultural area for residential accommodation had become evident. “Alderman Chisholm read a report of the works committee of the Marrickville council on Monday night as to Mr Chester’s request to do something to remedy ‘the beastly state of Garden Street’.” In an amusing piece of buck passing, “the mayor said that he believed that all the waterways belonged to the owners of the land.” But at least “the report was adopted and the proposed meeting will be held.” Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, Universal Press, Sydney maps 373, 374, 403, 404 and 433. Since the Great Depression, the presence of a large storm water basin has controlled the perennial flooding, and the district is now designated non-residential light industrial. 294 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 50. 295 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 August 1934, p. 23 supplement. The Tank Stream. “I wonder if any of us, when going through the city, ever think of the Tank Stream, which perhaps is flowing under the street along which we are walking?” 105 Quay. 296 As a belated commemoration, the northern end of old Hamilton Street that ran between Hunter and Bridge Street, virtually on top of the tank stream tunnel has, since the 1970s, been renamed Tank Stream Way. 297 Even the Bridge Street that the Sydney Federation parade traversed was named for the bridge that crossed this vital stream at Macquarie Place in early colonial days. Although the naming of Bridge Street reflected a prosaic indication of land use and location, most of the other streets through which the march proceeded in Sydney reflected the authority of the British rulers of the day, and the power of one man within the colony: Governor Lachlan Macquarie. 298 When Lachlan Macquarie arrived in the colony in 1810 he gave early attention to town planning and the state of the roads, with few of the main thoroughfares retaining their original names. George Street was created from, at least part of its length, the old High Street. 299 “Central street names reflected Macquarie’s loyalty to the Empire, with the ducal titles of the sons of George III – York, Cumberland, Sussex, Clarence, Cambridge and Kent – joining their father and his queen, Charlotte, on street signs. To these were added the names of various British officers such as Bathurst, Liverpool, Castlereagh, Pitt and NSW governors Phillip, King, Hunter, Macquarie and Bligh.” 300 The governor then named the second most significant street in Sydney after his wife, Elizabeth. 296 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Street Directory of Sydney and Suburbs 1934, map 2. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps A, B, C. 297 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Street Directory of Sydney and Suburbs 1934, map 2. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map B. That such a cultural memory still exists was also evident by the creation of the semi-artificial Tank Stream Arcade, linking King Street and Pitt Street over the original upper reaches of the watercourse. Although this arcade has now been closed, the simulated, but effective little waterfall gave the visitor the impression that they really were stepping over the original stream as they came down the stairs to shop. The Canberra Times: 14 October 1972, p. 18. “Sydney’s historic Tank Stream is to be diverted into a city building project and will be visible to city shoppers in the form of a fountain and pool.” This in itself was no doubt a reflection of the developing sense of heritage of the 1970s. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map C. Note the corner of King St and Pitt St, location K4. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 54. 298 The Sydney Morning Herald: 26 December 1908 p. 11. 299 UBD Australia: UBD Sydney Street Directory 2000, Universal Press, Sydney, maps 1, 3, 12, 18. This interesting state of George Street has remained to this day, since this was always the original main road from the old docks on the western side of Circular Quay through the suburbs to the settlement of Parramatta. So the same winding main road changes from Hickson Road (which loops around from Darling Harbour and is named after Robert Hickson (1842-1923) the first president of the Sydney Harbour Trust, itself established on the 1 November 1901 as part of the recognition that something needed to be done after the outbreak of plague). The road then changes to George Street, becomes Broadway at Railway Square and finally Parramatta Road at the University of Sydney. 300 City of Sydney Council: The streets of your town online database. Pitt Street was more likely to have been named after the British Prime Minister, William Pitt. The Sydney Mail: 1 January 1901, p.28. Charlotte Place itself was to be later swallowed up, along with much of its partner, Grosvenor Street, by the Bradfield Highway and the Sydney Harbour Bridge. 106 The skyscraper as we know it today did not exist in Sydney in 1901, with a 150 foot limit being placed on building heights until 1957. 301 However, there were still tall multi-storey buildings for both government authorities and wealthy private financial and insurance firms. 302 Pitt Street, then as now, was a narrow bustling thoroughfare giving the pedestrian the sensation of entering into a gorge between the towering cliffs of what Peter Spearritt has called “monuments to renaissance revival architecture” on either side. 303 This canyon effect was recognised at the time, with The Daily Telegraph noting that: “the Hunter Street to Martin Place portion of Pitt Street form (sic) the ‘American Avenue’….the bunting introduced talks largely of the nationality of the firms by whom they have been carried out.” 304 As was the case with Bridge Street, the very narrowness of the thoroughfare would surely have added to the dramatic spectacle as the parade passed beneath. Images from the time demonstrate the degree to which the marchers, horses and carriages filled the entire roadway, 305 leaving little depth for spectators who would have been able to reach out and touch the participants as they passed. 306 It was here that the two arches from those cultures embodying the epitome of modernism and the modern world were located: France and the United States of America. 307 Both these nations were in the interesting position of also being both republics themselves (and even cultural threats to the motherland, in one way or another), while being represented by rather small populations within Australia. 308 The French Arch location at the entrance to Pitt Street is marked even today with a hotel and restaurant christened appropriately The Republican. 309 301 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 235. 302 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 53. 303 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 209. 304 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 16. 305 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 51. 306 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 16. From these accompanying drawings from the time, and from my own later photographs, the narrowness of Pitt Street is obvious. One does not need to have overly tall buildings on either side to feel the sense of being in a canyon. 307 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 52-54. 308 Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, p. 166. The Census of 1901 lists populations by place of birth with those from France numbering 2 618 and those from the United States of America 5 217. By contrast those with place of birth listed as China, even by 1901 were 29 513 and those from Germany were 25 002. 309 Gregory’s: Street Directory of Sydney 2011, map B. This bistro provides both a link to the Federation Parade and also a more poignant remainder from the 1999 Republican Referendum that had been focussed also in the Central Business District of the city. In addition to the earlier removal of the State Governor from Government House by the Carr Government, the City of Sydney Council, headed by Lord Mayor Lucy Turnbull had festooned these same city streets with banners advocating a “Yes” vote and the arrival of an Australian Republic in the week leading up to the 6 November ballot. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 50. 107 Cardinal Moran had also apparently been quite happy to add a sectarian tinge to these political views. A year earlier, while raising funds for the construction of St Mary’s Cathedral, he had taken the opportunity to attack the French Revolution, which was of course then only a hundred and ten years in the past. “In France, for instance, the enemies of religion at the close of last century left nothing undone to destroy the very name of Christian… But their efforts had been in vain. When the Revolution broke out in France the entire number of French missionaries spread throughout the world was 300. Now the number engaged in mission work was 50,000.” The more recently unified Germany itself also came in for the Cardinal’s rather scatter gun commentary. “Germany was another example. In the beginning of the century [the nineteenth century], all the smaller states were most hostile to the Church. Now they had been absorbed by Germany; the church enjoyed almost perfect freedom throughout that vast empire, and the present population of Germany was over 20,000,000.” 310 Although the French community in Australia has always been small their arch was funded by “the French Citizens living in Sydney, with the ultimate responsibility falling on the French Community Committee.” 311 The French Arch was recorded as being some seven metres high and eight metres wide, 312 although as the images demonstrate, this width was only the opening; the classically styled supports on either side would have added another three metres each, and taken up most of the width of the road. 313 Erected in the “Gothic” style with imitation masonry blocks, and the motto “Pax et Labor”, peace and effort, 314 the arch contained within it a mixture of representations linking French culture, exploration, agriculture and viniculture, and of course support for the new nation of Australia. One evocative touch was the matching supporters on the top of the two piers: an Australian styled flag borne by an Emu on one and the French Tricolour apparently supported by Chanticleer on the other. 315 The Age newspaper was not too sure about this, and also the included possible configuration of the yet to be formally designed Australian flag, although here apparently based upon a representation of the Southern Cross, similar to the current state flag of Victoria. 316 310 The Daily Telegraph: 22 January 1900. 311 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p.14. 312 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 35. 313 Photograph Booklet vol. 1, p. 51. 314 Milne and other press reports incorrectly reported this as Fax et Labor, fire and work. 315 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 35. 316 The Age: 2 January 1901. According to Elizabeth Kwan: Flag and Nation, 2006, University of NSW Press, Sydney p. 15, this flag was white, with a blue cross containing the five stars of the Southern Cross stylised with the small star in the centre of the cross. The Union Flag still held pride of place in the first 108 There was also a financial and trade aspect to the arch, with the coats of arms of those French cities with which Australia had commercial connections: Paris, Lyon, Marseilles and Bordeaux. 317 Ironically, the French Consul-General actually boycotted the parade over another protocol dispute and even missed the formal ceremony at Centennial Park after being held up in traffic. 318 Unlike more numerous non British migrant groups such as the Chinese, Italians and Greeks, the French have never really established French Quarters in Australian cities. 319 However, since the Second World War, there has been what might be called a Latin Quarter in Sydney centred on Abbey’s foreign language bookshop in York Street, the Alliance Française behind the Town Hall and the Spanish club further down in Liverpool Street. With no defined central community district, there was no cultural logic behind the location of this arch. However, as with the siting of the American Arch further along Pitt Street, the setting would have represented and reflected very much “the modern world”. It would have been interesting, though, to consider the degree to which ideals of French liberty, equality and fraternity would have been mitigated by the recent 1894 Dreyfus affair. The Argus in Melbourne still recalled Dreyfus as a martyr, “Imprisoned on a lonely island. Surrounded by miasmatic vapours, and deprived of all but the necessaries of existence.” 320 Although Captain Alfred Dreyfus would have been back in France from his brutal exile by the time of Australian Federation, he was not fully exonerated until 1906. 321 Anti-Semitism also appeared quite prevalent in Australia at the time, although suggestions in the press of the time indicate that it was of a mild stereotyping; poking fun at supposed Jewish interests in financial profit. 322 “Antisemitism was never quarter canton. The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 13. The Herald appeared to be clear about the birds, but also mentioned the flying of the “Australian Commonwealth flag”. 317 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 36. 318 The Sydney Morning Herald: 3 January 1901, p. 8. 319 Although, of course, there was the Paris end of Collins Street, designated more through wealth, fashion and style than language and culture. 320 The Argus: 23 May 1899, p. 6. 321 Colin Jones: Cambridge Illustrated History of France, 1994, University of Cambridge Press, Cambridge, p. 234. 322 The Bulletin: 10 February 1900, p. 11. Note where support for the Boer War amongst the Jewish Community was presented as primarily concern with supplying loans and tenders for the campaign. Perhaps Australia’s much smaller Jewish community of around 15 000 was seen as an exotic minority, rather than a real cultural or economic threat; although in percentage terms, Australian Jewry, at 0.49% of the population was over twice that of France, at a mere 0.22%. Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No 1 – 1908, p. 174. Those listed as Hebrew, 15 239. Again compare with 35 666 listed for 109 part of the Australian mainstream”, observes historian Hilary Rubinstein, noting that no social or legislative impediment prevented Sir John Monash or Sir Isaac Isaacs from reaching the pinnacle of military and civic leadership in their time. 323 However, Rubenstein then goes on to quote instances where writers and publications such as Marcus Clarke, Norman Lindsay, Henry Lawson and 'lesser' contributors to Smith's Weekly, Melbourne Punch, The Bulletin, or Labor newspapers such as The Worker, Tocsin or Labor Call engaged in stereotypical bigotry. Perhaps this is an instance where the press of the day was expressing ideals at variance to the reality of everyday life. No doubt Australians at the beginning of the twentieth century expressed some of the anti-Semitic sentiments represented in the press. However, this did not seem to translate into violent action or the boycotting of businesses that would have been evident of stronger feelings. In fact, Suzanne Rutland mentions that, due to the number of practising Jews in the NSW Legislative Assembly in 1917, the House did not sit on the day of Yom Kippur. 324 Pitt Street has always been the business centre and busiest street in the city, and as I walked up towards the GPO, the constant vehicle and pedestrian traffic indicated that this was still very much the case. The American Arch was placed at the intersection with Hunter Street where the nearby angled Spring and O’Connell Streets still give a very “New York” almost claustrophobic feel to the precinct. This can certainly convey to the pedestrian a sensation of vibrancy if they are partial to the hustle and bustle of urban life. 325 The original Sydney Morning Herald Building, angled like the American Flat Iron Building, also harks back to the days when all the major social and cultural activities took place right in the heart of the CBD. 326 The American Arch apparently Buddhist, Confucian and Pagan, in other words, Chinese. Jewish Encyclopaedia: Historical Jewish population comparisons online database. 323 National Archives of Australia: Anti-Semitism in Australia Research Guide, quoting L.M. Goldman, The Jews in Victoria in the 19th Century, Melbourne 1954, pp. 405-6. 324 Sydney City Council: Dictionary of Sydney website. Suzanne Rutland article titles: Jews. In the 1930s Sir Daniel Levy was elected as Sydney’s first Jewish Lord Mayor. 325 Terry Irving and Rowan Cahill: Radical Sydney, 2010, University of NSW Press, Sydney, Introduction. Note in particular the map opposite p. 1, indicating the concentration of radical action in the CBD during the first half of the twentieth century. Interestingly, this location (along with the abandoned Eveleigh Railway Workshops) is also a favourite with marketing agencies producing automobile advertising: imposing a moody sense of the tough, hard bitten and gritty metropolis. 326 Sydney Architecture: Sydney Morning Herald Building (former) website. The current structure was not completed until 1929, so the march would have passed the original 1856 building. The Sydney Morning Herald building as it now exists was sold to the Bank of NSW (now Westpac) in 1954-55 and new premises build on Broadway, between Central Railway and the University of Sydney. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, 2011, Universal Press, Sydney map 370. By the 1990s the Sydney Morning Herald had again moved; out to new premises in industrial Chullora. 110 required considerable effort to erect. When one reads of the complexity of the very Classical Jeffersonian edifice, it was no wonder that post holes five feet (one and a half metres) deep had to be dug in the road side to support the structure. 327 While the arch contained sympathetic sentiments stating that “The United States of America greet United Australia” 328 and “Hail to the New Born Commonwealth”, it was noted that the entablature, pediments, scrolls and extensive plaster work made a brave show that was “purely American….with golden eagles perched on every flagpole, and the Stars and Stripes float on every halliard.” 329 It was fitting therefore that the American Arch should have been located on this corner. As with the other national groups such as the Germans, the influence of the Americans on early late nineteenth century and early twentieth Australian society is hard to judge dispassionately after a century of European history and American cultural dominance. Although relatively small in numbers, visitors and migrants from the United States have had an impact on the way that Australian society evolved and departed from that of Britain. American culture had always provided a pressure on Australian society to move forwards, from the Cobb and Co transport system at the time of the gold rushes, to Harold Clapp’s later massive influence on the development of Victorian and Australian Railways. 330 Interestingly, Trade Unionism had also become strongly inspired by Americans; 331 Henry George prior to Federation, and even Clinton Hartley Grattan later. 332 While viewing the passing parade, spectators would also have noted the presence of another nation itself celebrating recent unification, that of Italy. Rather than erecting an arch, which would have been noticed by all the marchers at some time during the parade, the Italians, and Canadians also, took what one might consider to the more populist option of entering allegorical cars; in other words, horse drawn floats. 333 This would have meant that most participants, apart from those in the immediate vicinity Photograph Booklet vol,1, p. 52. 327 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 38. 328 Interesting also that, less than forty years after the end of the Civil War, the term United States should be used in the plural rather singular form: the United States greet, rather than United States greets. 329 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 13. The implication appears to have been that none of the actual decorations on the arch related back to Australia. 330 Robert Lee: The Railways of Victoria 1854-2004, 2007, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, pp. 145-152 et passim. 331 John Rickard: Australia – a cultural history, p. 147. This remained more theoretical than organisational. As Rickard states, “Although there was a significant American ideological influence on the Australian labour movement, from Bellamy to syndicalism, its cultural heritage remained firmly British.” 332 William H Wilde, Joy Hooton, Barry Andrews: The Oxford Companion to Australian Literature, p. 326. 333 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 14. 111 would have not have seen them during the parade, but that all members of the viewing public at all points along the route would have caught a glimpse as they rolled past. As with the many cartoons and drawn images of the time, where young women were used liberally to embody the youth and freshness of newly emerged countries, 334 the Canadian car also relied upon this time honoured attraction, presenting “beautiful girls in gala attire on whose charming faces the crowd fixed an admiring gaze.” 335 The Italian car was also “beautiful and artistically –designed”, although relying upon a brass band to enliven proceedings. It continued to demonstrate the disjuncture between a desire to restrict non-British immigration, and the apparent attraction of Italian culture and language at the time. The block from the American Arch southward to Martin Place also reflected this incongruity in attitudes towards non-British migrants. The Union Chambers at 70 Pitt Street 336 contained the offices of one Thomas Henry Fiaschi, and his company, Tizzana Wines. 337 Thomas Fiaschi was yet another of those individuals of vision who added much to the development of the colony of NSW and the developing nation of Australia. Born in 1853 in Florence to an academic family, Fiaschi gained degrees in medicine and surgery at Florence and Pisa. Upon migration, first to Queensland, and thence Sydney, he developed into one of the leading surgeons in the city, becoming president of both the Sydney Hospital and NSW Branch of the British Medical Association. 338 Thomas Fiaschi was also active in the development of the Australian Wine Industry; no doubt understandable, coming originally from the family that had created the Chianti wines around Florence. 339 According to his winery’s website, Fiaschi thus was instrumental in 334 Note the Kipling poem “The Young Queen” in the Sydney Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901. 335 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 15. 336 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 53. One block along from the Malaysian Airlines Office. 337 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 112. 338 G P Walsh: Thomas Henry Fiaschi (1853-1927) including Piero Francis Fiaschi, Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. Fiaschi remains commemorated today by the copy of the 17 th century Florentine statue Il Porcellino outside the Sydney Hospital, donated by his daughter Clarissa, the Marchesa Torrigiani in 1967. Photograph Booklet vol,1, p. 24. 339 Hugh Johnson: World Atlas of Wine, 1989, Mitchell Beazley Hugh Johnson, London, p. 192. In 1882 Fiaschi founded Tizzana Wines at Sackville on the Hawkesbury River, as well as a winery at Mudgee. The Sackville Winery still exists on Tizzana Road, alongside a reach of the Hawkesbury River now better known as a water-ski venue. Between these interests, Fiaschi also found time to preside over the Dante Alighieri Society and the NSW Wine Association. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map 68. 112 introducing “Listerian Surgery” (i.e. sterilisation of instruments and the washing of hands) into Australia. 340 Apart from his own exemplary medical service during the Boer War and the First World War, Thomas Fiaschi’s son, Piero Francis Fiaschi also served, rising to the rank of Lieutenant Colonel in the Field Ambulance. 341 Whatever opinions toward non-British migrants they may have held at the time, few Australians viewing the parade appeared to have had concerns with placing their lives in the hands of the Fiaschi family. The country benefited much from their contribution and no doubt some would have toasted the newly created nation with a glass of their wine. Three doors to the south along Pitt Street, at number 76, was another notable address that the Federation march would have passed; the Vickery Building. The original edifice has long been replaced by the Pitt Street Telephone Exchange; however, in 1901 this site occupied one of the most advanced architectural structures in the nation. Ebenezer Vickery, a Cornish Methodist, had migrated to Australia at the age of six in 1833. Although expected to take over his father’s boot factory in George Street, Vickery had grander plans. 342 Acquiring various country properties, he became a principle behind the Fitzroy Iron Foundry at Mittagong, and in 1864 constructed Vickery Chambers using iron girders from the Fitzroy works. 343 This was a decade before the development of the steel framed office building by William le Baron Jenney in Chicago. 344 However, the American move to steel construction (the direct result of the disastrous Chicago Fire of 1871) was rapid. In Australia, the amount and quality of the metal produce by our nascent industry was meagre, so the lead taken by Vickery was not followed, and it would be half a century before this construction technology was available back in Australia for the erection of such buildings as the current telephone exchange. 345 340 Tizzana Winery: Tizzana Winery – A Brief History online database. It is worth noting that, according to their current releases, Tizzana Winery also now offers a Federation range of vintages. 341 Chris Coulthard-Clark: Where Australians Fought – The Encyclopaedia of Australia’s Battles, 1998, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, p. 69. 342 R Ian Jack and Aedeen Cremin: Australia’s Age of Iron, 1994, Oxford University Press, Sydney, p. 19. 343 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 112. In light of Vickery’s entrepreneurial nature, it was fitting that his chambers should have contained accountants, solicitors and the local offices of the New York Life Insurance Company. 344 Mike Darton: The Illustrated Book of Architects and Architecture, 1990, Tiger Books, London, pp. 90, 98. 345 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, pp. 128,168. Note the development from the aptly named Federation Warehouse, which was still reliant upon structural 113 10. THE COMMERCIAL CITY After twenty minutes walking, the marchers would have finally reached Martin Place, the point where the parade turned right to enter George Street. One hundred years ago this was already a busy thoroughfare, although the place did not then reach all the way up to Macquarie Street. 346 Filling the block on the southern boundary was the recently constructed General Post Office, 347 with a row of new buildings and bank offices on the other northern side. Once it was deemed necessary to construct a new Post Office for Sydney, the City Council realised that the James Barnet designed façade would be lost overlooking the narrow Moore Street that then existed at the location. 348 Between 1870 and 1890 land was resumed, and Moore Street widened between George Street and Pitt Street to form the 1892 Martin Place. 349 Moore Street was always intended to be extended one block further east, and this exercise was aided and abetted by a fortuitous fire on 1 October 1890 that destroyed the very block between Pitt and Castlereagh Street that was required for the extension. 350 Martin Place itself had been named after the former NSW Premier and Chief Justice Sir James Martin. 351 The career of this notable State father again epitomised the fluid cultural and sectarian relations that existed then (and now) in the city of Sydney. Born in 1820 in County Cork, Ireland, to a staunchly Catholic family, Martin emigrated to NSW with his parents the following year. He was baptised by Father Therry in the original St Mary’s Cathedral and, supported by parents who were more than willing to make sacrifices on his behalf, commenced a meteoric rise in the colony. 352 Junior contributor to newspapers, journalist, associate of Henry Parkes, acting editor of The Australian at nineteen years of age, James Martin then, at the age of twenty, decided to enter the Law, having taken a keen interest in constitutional and immigration issues. stone and brick, to the Inter-War Commercial Style of the 1920s, when Vickery’s ideas finally gained acceptance. 346 Note maps of the time. The Daily Telegraph 2 January 1901, p8, Sydney Mail 1 January 1901, p. 28. 347 Peter Bridges and Robin Appleton: The City’s Centrepiece – The History of the Sydney GPO, 1988, Hale & Iremonger, Sydney, p. 113. Perhaps “recently completed” would be more apt, since the building was begun in 1871, but the tower not completed until 1891, and even then roof extensions and additional floors were being added between 1899 and 1902, both before and after the march passed underneath. 348 Peter Bridges and Robin Appleton: The City’s Centrepiece – The History of the Sydney GPO, p. 62. 349 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 56. 350 Peter Bridges and Robin Appleton: The City’s Centrepiece – The History of the Sydney GPO, p. 63. Fortuitous fires have long been a hallmark of Sydney’s development and re-development. One can think of the Elizabethan Theatre on Newtown Bridge and the Ultimo Wool Stores in recent years. 351 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 57. 352 Bede Nairn: Sir James Martin (1820-1886), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 114 Combining a mix of “conservative native-born strand” with a social radicalism influenced by fellow Irishman Edmund Burke, 353 Martin’s views were as varied as they were idiosyncratic, 354 and no doubt well known to most of the spectators watching the march. However, at no time does it appear that James Martin’s Roman Catholic heritage affected his career. Perhaps this same plasticity that resulted in the acceptance of a knighthood in 1869, coalition governments with Parkes and Cowper and finally NSW Chief Justice in 1873 at fifty three years of age, demonstrated an accommodation that was not overly concerned with doctrinaire considerations. Bede Nairn aptly sums up the effective pragmatism embodied in Sir James Martin. “Martin's family was strongly Catholic but his own denominational faith weakened as he matured. Catholicism was the religion of the Irish and their offspring, a large proportion of the colonial lower orders, but it jarred with Martin's dream of personal advancement, though he retained warm family links.” 355 That the march should pass the Sydney GPO would have been no accident. This structure embodied not only all the technological innovations of the late Victorian era, but also the advancing role of government itself. The marvels of electric communication were rapidly changing society technically and the creation of a public service required to effectively utilise these technologies was also having a cultural effect on society. Photographs of the time demonstrate the adoption of the new developments: the telephone and telegraph. Hardwood telephone posts and the masses of wires that would mark city and suburban streets from the 1880s to the present time were by then an accepted feature of the landscape and certainly visible along the route of the march. 356 The degree to which the technology that had enabled Australia to be settled and federated in the first place had continued to develop, and then served to add to the sense of isolation and threat, was noted by Andrew Enstice and Janeen Webb. 357 353 Bede Nairn: Sir James Martin (1820-1886), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. “In a notable council speech in August 1853 he effectively defended the draft constitution and revealed that Edmund Burke remained his chief inspiration, but Disraeli rather than Wentworth was looming as his political exemplar.” 354 Opposed to the advancement of ex-convicts, but against the execution of bushrangers, anti-Jewish, yet also apparently religiously tolerant, Martin would have been as difficult to compartmentalise then as he would be now. 355 Bede Nairn: Sir James Martin (1820-1886), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 356 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 56, 63. 357 Kevin T Livingston, Richard Jordan, Gay Sweely: Becoming Australians - The movement towards Federation in Ballarat and the Nation, 2001, Wakefield Press, Kent Town, South Australia, pp. 104-105. Eustice and Webb go on to point out that “Xenophobia, which had begun with large-scale immigration during the early gold rush period, intensified into a nervous resentment of foreign powers that suddenly seemed disturbingly accessible.” 115 Whatever the political complexion of the periodicals, there was a widespread expression of belief in the fact of a separate Australian nationhood…All of this changed when, in 1872, the connection of the submarine telegraph cable link to Britain made international news a matter of immediate concern. Australians might not be any better placed to participate physically in European affairs, but the almost instantaneous exchange of ideas had become a reality…Where incoming ships once brought news of crises long past, the telegraph brought news within hours of the event and an inevitable desire to respond. Anxiety levels soared. 358 The anniversary publication The City’s Centrepiece dedicates much of its history to not only architect James Barnet’s material structure, but also the social significance of the wide ranging and secure employment that this new institution offered to aspirational working people, both Catholic and Protestant, within the inner city. 359 The building itself embodied this developing national identity, being constructed within a very classical tradition but with modern egalitarian touches symbolic of Australian ideals. As well as the usual carvings of Queen Victoria and allegories of wealth and bounty, 360 architect James Barnet included whimsical representatives of local Sydney trades people and their occupations. Between 1870 and 1890, it was the Italian craftsman Signor Tomaso Sani who carved the keystones above the classical arches with male and female busts representing both the nations of Europe and the Australian colonies. There is even supposedly a carving of the hero of Italian independence and unification, Giuseppe Garibaldi; if true, an understandable source of contention at the time. 361 358 Kevin T Livingston, Richard Jordan, Gay Sweely: Becoming Australians - The movement towards Federation in Ballarat and the Nation, 2001, Wakefield Press, Kent Town, South Australia, pp. 104-105. Eustice and Webb go on to point out that “Xenophobia, which had begun with large-scale immigration during the early gold rush period, intensified into a nervous resentment of foreign powers that suddenly seemed disturbingly accessible.” 359 Peter Bridges and Robin Appleton: The City’s Centrepiece – The History of the Sydney GPO. Note the specific chapter on Ancillary Staff from p. 80, and the many other images and paragraphs reflecting upon the significance of employment. Chris McConville: Croppies, Celts &Catholics – The Irish in Australia, 1987, Edward Arnold Australia, pp. 75, 98. Interestingly, McConville makes the point that, “by 1902, 23 per cent of public servants in New South Wales were Catholics.” Since this would have been approximately the percentage in the general population, the public service seemed very even handed, rather than favouring any one group over another. Quite telling also is the photograph showing a dozen working women, still in their rather restrictive 1895 clothing, staffing the new telephone switching board, under the managerial gaze of another woman who is obviously their supervisor. Even at this time, women were obviously holding managerial positions within the public service. 360 Peter Bridges and Robin Appleton: The City’s Centrepiece – The History of the Sydney GPO, p. 51. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 58. 361 Sydney Vista: Sydney General Post Office database. “So was Garibaldi ever found? Rumours persisted and eventually a tiny image on the side of the "Italy" head was identified as an image of interest! Some believe it is in fact Garibaldi yet others believe it is an image of Barnet kneeling to write his name on the building. You be the judge!” Peter Bridges and Robin Appleton: The City’s Centrepiece – The History of 116 The procession passed down Martin Place, where there would have been additional opportunity for the many spectators to view the Vice-Regal party at close proximity. Although there was no formal arch in place at this location, Martin Place was decorated with a colonnade and bunting that was obviously more apt for this recently constructed wide open space. Where this civic space came into its own would have been later at night when the electric lights that covered the colonnade glowed alight: As The Daily Telegraph noted, “The Martin Place façade last night was the cynosure of all eyes. Right across the front in huge 12ft letters of light composed of incandescent lights on a scintillating silver background stretched the words Welcome to our Governor General. Beneath also in 12ft letters, ‘God Save the Queen’.” 362 From Martin Place, the Federation Parade turned into George Street, Sydney’s principal vehicular route. 363 The marchers now traversed from the governmental and business heart of the city, to its commercial and consumer centre, symbolically covering the varying roles played by the city in citizens’ lives. Then, as now, George Street represented the haunt of the shopper; jumbled small commercial enterprises interspersed with arcades and department stores running along the main north south thoroughfare. While the Strand Arcade remains to this day, 364 many of the other small arcades and laneways that formed, depending upon your point of view, rabbit warrens or refuges from the hectic traffic, have gone. 365 Despite these changes, the block formed by Elizabeth, King, George and Liverpool Streets has always provided the central quality shopping area of Sydney; as much now as it would have been in 1901. In the days before widespread public transport and suburban shopping centres, businesses strove to fit as many stores and services into this main shopping precinct as possible. One only has to look through the Sands Directory the Sydney GPO, pp. 56-57. “A number of years ago there was a rumour that a carving of the Italian revolutionary hero, Giuseppe Garibaldi, appears on the General Post Office…one of the major sculptors, Signor Tomaso Sani was an Italian from Florence, and as Garibaldi was enjoying widespread popularity in Italy at the time…it would have been quite likely that such a carving existed.” Although the image is reproduced on p. 56 of Bridges and Appleton, I did not notice this at the time of my footstepping, and have found no reference to the rumour. 362 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 8. 363 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 59-61. 364 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 62. 365 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Street Directory of Sydney & Suburbs 1934, map 2. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map C. Note the degree to which small lanes and arcades such as the Sydney, Royal and Imperial Arcades have been subsumed in to the large complexes of the Sydney Hilton and Westfield Centrepoint. 117 of the time to appreciate the huge variety of small enterprises that existed along George Street from Martin Place to Park Street. Tailors, booksellers, florists, photographic studios, jewellers; the list is endless, and reflected the multifarious needs of the city dweller. 366 Miss K O’Brien: dressmaker, Thomas Cooke: mercer, Madame Polley: corset maker and Joseph Pearson: men’s mercer, all give some flavour as to the businesses in this precinct. The millinery of Mrs C and A Marsh must have been extensive: the Sydney Arcade at 406 Pitt Street (no longer in existence) contained not only their millinery shop at number 20, but work rooms at number 71. This arcade also included, at number 410, the nascent Mick Simmons sports store (est 1877), a later Sydney icon. Having moved to various locations within the city over the course of the last century, Mick Simmons has now returned to 478 George Street, a mere one block away. Then as now, the exotic was always a source of attraction, and interest in ‘the other’ drove the commercial imperative. Just the one specific site such as The Strand Arcade’s ground floor boasted: George Saleh’s Oriental Store, Miss Van Brakkel’s hairdressing salon, Axtens and Le Rossignol Glovers and Hatters, the “Tosca” Mercery Studio and the Shamrock Tea Rooms. 367 One of the continuing conjectures throughout my thesis is the degree to which formally presented ideals and even civil laws contrast with the everyday lived experience of ordinary people. The newspapers and magazines such as The Bulletin may have poked fun at the Irish, Jews, 368 ‘Orientals’, and Southern Europeans, 369 but when it came to the commercial sphere, patrons and customers seemed always to have voted with their feet and their purses. However, at the time these small bustling enterprises were coming under pressure from a commercial rather than cultural or political threat; the rise of the department store. With the development and expansion of the train and tram networks, many of the new department stores that could take advantage of these large numbers of customers began to expand. Small enterprises such as Gowings Men’s Tailoring established themselves 366 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 57. 367 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 57. 368 Jewish Herald: 8 June 1900, p4. Quoting the Argus of last Saturday “Lord Roberts, it seems has found time amid the pre-occupations of a great campaign to write a letter to Lord Rothschild in warm ‘praise of the fighting quality of his Jewish soldiers’…It is difficult, indeed for the human imagination to picture Tommy Atkins with a Semitic nose and well-oiled ringlets…” 369 The Bulletin: 3 March 1901, Irish Blarney and anti-German sentiments of false patriotism. The Bulletin: 11 February 1901, Jews profiting from the Boer War. The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 9. The chief Rabbi, A B Davis pleads for sympathy for Jews. 118 in the centre of the city; originally opposite the Queen Victoria Markets, thence later to the corner of Market Street, where they remained until closing in the 1990s. 370 Others, such as Grace Brothers, Anthony Hordern’s and Marcus Clarke’s, moved closer to Broadway and Central Railway to capture the newly arriving suburbanites as they alighted from the trains and trams. Anthony Hordern’s fate reflected the era more than most. On 10 July 1901, shortly after Federation, the Great Haymarket Fire burned the block bounded by George and Liverpool Streets to the ground, including the premises of Anthony Hordern, Family Draper. 371 His son, city alderman and Federation parade planning committee member, Samuel Hordern subsequently rebuilt the massive family store on the site, to become one of the city’s icons for over seventy years. Mark Foy’s extravagant faience covered façade was built later in 1909 at the southern end of Hyde Park, again linking in with the new Central Railway and the expanding tram lines. 372 Over the intervening century this retail role of the city has changed. The development of suburban shopping malls meant that many of the big department stores were fated to become white elephants. 373 Marcus Clarke’s and Grace Brothers found new leases of life as tertiary educational institutions: Sydney’s Technical College and accommodation for Sydney University. Anthony Hordern’s acquired no such saviour. Closed in the 1970s, the entire block was demolished and then left vacant for over a decade. 374 The site of generations of family purchases of clothes and furniture was finally replaced with the World Tower complex, completed between 1999 and 2004. 375 Mark Foy’s, the queen of Hyde Park, has at least survived intact as Sydney’s Downing Centre Court Complex, although long gone are the days when the widespread phrase used to comment on political or mercenary bravado; “having more front than Mark Foy’s,” paid homage to the gloriously embossed façade. 376 With the return to city life over the last few decades, quality shopping has again returned to the district that, in 1901, would have surely been regarded as the obvious route for the Federation parade. Perhaps this renewed district of quality consumption would have been more recognisable to a 370 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 58. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 63. 371 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory for 1900, p. 59. 372 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 214. This location became even more lucrative with the 1920s construction of the underground railway and the opening of the adjacent Museum Station. In fact, the dominance of the large Mark Foy’s advertising poster so overwhelmed the less significant Museum sign that for decades people automatically called the station itself Mark Foy’s. 373 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 215. 374 George Forbes: History of Sydney, 1926, William Brooks & Co, Sydney, pp. 234-235. 375 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map E. 376 The Sydney Morning Herald: 24 June 2009 online database. 119 Sydney resident viewing the parade in 1901 than through much of the subsequent century. It was also noteworthy that the relatively long expanse along George Street, from Martin Place to Market Street and then Park Street did not contain any arches since the wide vista of George Street itself, with its wealth and variety of shops and stores, would have been reason enough to celebrate the prosperity of the nation. On the right approaching Park Street still rises the warm yet commanding sandstone veneer of the Queen Victoria Building, followed by the Sydney Town Hall and St Andrews Cathedral. In 1901, these were also new and imposing buildings, with the Queen Victoria Markets, as they then were known, having only been formally opened on 12 July 1898. 377 As well as providing a suitable backdrop to the event, the imposing aspect and height of the Queen Victoria Building combined with the other commercial edifices along George Street to provide excellent (if not particularly safe) platforms for viewing the march. 378 I experienced this myself when attempting to overlay some of the photographs of the time with current images taken from their original locations. 379 Approaching the architectural restoration offices, an executive assistant from the QVB management group introduced my photographer and me to Pascal Antunes, the project manager for the current re-development of the Queen Victoria Building. With his guidance we were able to locate almost the exact spot far up on the roof documented by the intrepid recorder a century ago. Of course in 1901 there would not have been the same air-conditioning ducting that we had to traverse, and health and safety legislation was not quite so stringent. To capture the original march would have required the photographer to cart his heavy equipment out onto the overhanging sandstone parapet of the building, putting both his life, and the lives of the unknowing spectators below at considerable risk. 380 However, the temptation at the time must have been overwhelming. This would have been one of the highest vantage points from which to view the parade, symbolically embodying the pride of the city. We thus experienced a 377 Suzanne Stirling and Helen Ivory: QVB – an improbable story, 1998, IPOH Ltd, Sydney, p. 13. 378 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 64, 65. 379 My photographer took some images from inside the front of the building where the Hobbyco store is currently located, and then (she herself having more front than Mark Foy’s) decided to find out whether it would be possible to photograph from the same position on the roof as the accompanying picture taken in 1901. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 65. 380 The magnificent view today mirrors the same impressive view of the Federation Parade in 1901. The 1901 photograph may well have been regarded as being even more spectacular since at the time this would have been one of the highest points in the city. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 65. 120 level of trepidation that was apparently not shared by the original, un-named artist. 381 Perhaps his bravado was not well founded since a young man by the name of Richard Wiseman, engaged in decorating a portion of the Queen Victoria Building for the parade, had earlier fallen off the lower four metre awning, breaking his arm and injuring his legs. 382 Although the Queen Victoria Building is now valued as a great heritage reminder of a bygone age, at the time of its design by architect George McRae, its opening on 21 July 1898, and the Federation march that passed by in 1901, it was viewed as the height of modern style and construction. 383 Rather than utilising the more ornate Victorian Second Empire style that had been incorporated for the earlier and adjacent Sydney Town Hall, 384 an iron framed construction faced in blocked but light sandstone was employed to give the building not only the suitable level of grandeur, but also the open airy and light filled interior necessary for its purpose as the city’s primary market. 385 Taking his cue from the world wide fashion for the Romanesque that had been adopted after the rebuilding of fire ravaged Chicago a decade earlier, McRae conceived of a building that would not only serve its practical function as a retail and market centre for the city, but also as a symbol of the reinvigoration of the city following the disastrous Australian depression of the early 1890s. 386 Again, individuals would have been noted by the people viewing the parade at this point, with one of the most significant and influential residents of the Queen Victoria Building being the Chinese merchant Quong Tart. Born Mei Quong Tart in the Canton district of China, the businessman and community leader was nine years of age when he migrated with his uncle to the New South Wales goldfields near Braidwood. He joined the household of the Simpsons, a Scottish family who converted him to Christianity and taught him to read, write and speak English (albeit apparently with a Scottish accent). From an early age he used his language skills as an interpreter, becoming a government 381 Helen Ennis: Cazneaux, the Quiet Observer, 1994, National Library of Australia, Canberra, p. 8. Whoever it was, it surely would not have been the twenty two year old nascent Sydney photographer Harold Cazneaux, who also felt our mutual apprehension at relying upon slippery sandstone. Cazneaux’s letter to journalist Nancy Cato in 1952 admitted that: “The only subjects that I did not like were those in which I was to be hoisted to the top of a tall smoke stack or dangled over a wall by rope. My dislike was natural to a high strung nervous person.” 382 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 17. 383 Suzanne Stirling and Helen Ivory: QVB – an improbable story, p. 27. 384 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 68. 385 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 66. 386 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 118. 121 official for the districts of Braidwood, Araluen and Majors Creek. In 1883 Quong Tart was appointed to a commission of inquiry into the disturbances in the Chinese camps in the Riverina and during the increased anti-Chinese activity in 1887 spent much of his time assisting his countrymen as an interpreter. 387 Quong Tart had become a naturalised British subject in 1871, entitling him to buy land and to vote, and in 1886 he married Englishwoman Margaret Scarlett. 388 Quong Tart campaigned passionately against the opium trade and its effect on his fellow Chinese, was the first Chinese to be elected to an Oddfellows Lodge in New South Wales and became a Freemason in 1885. As a businessman, his crowning success was the Elite Hall Tea House, occupying two floors of the Queen Victoria Building; an exclusive five hundred seat function hall with a stage and dining saloon. Across town at 137 King Street (the location of the current Tea Centre in the Sydney Shopping Mall) was another of his businesses, the Loong Shan Tea House. Opened in 1889, it boasted marble fountains, golden carp and a reading room. Both institutions became the place to be seen by high society, including members of the 1891 Federation Convention, who dined at the Elite Hall. 389 Quong Tart’s social position was not determined solely by the opinions of the Anglo Saxon community. His biographer, Errol J. Lea-Scarlett claimed that; “Quong was the only Chinese who succeeded in being accepted fully by the New South Wales community, but the popular view of him as a Chinese leader was not that of the Chinese community which was split by factions and separated from him by a wide social and cultural gap.” 390 The circumstances of Quong Tart’s death also clouded the issue of race relations, since it appeared that his was killed as the result of a bungled robbery, rather than any racial motivation. On 19 August 1902, an engineer named Frederick Duggan had walked into Tart’s office, hit him with an iron bar, and stole £20. 391 The Chinese merchant never recovered, and died a year later, much to the consternation of 387 National Museum of Australia: Harvest of Endurance online database. Mei Quong Tart. 388 Apparently, in the spirit of ecumenism, Quong Tart and his wife baptised each of their six children in a different Christian denomination. 389 E. J. Lea-Scarlett: Mei Quong Tart (1850–1903), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 390 E. J. Lea-Scarlett: Mei Quong Tart (1850–1903), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 391 Gavin Souter: Lion and Kangaroo – the initiation of Australia 1901-1919, 1976, William Collins, Sydney, p. 87. Apparently as many people were perturbed by the leniency of the twelve year prison sentence then as they would be today. “The published evidence at Duggan’s trial did not reveal whether the attack was to any extent racially inspired. It is true, nonetheless, that for whatever reason, the most distinguished and best assimilated Chinese in Australia met the same fate as many lowlier members of his race.” 122 the community of Sydney. 392 News of his death reached even the south west slopes of NSW, 393 and today his ghostly presence apparently remains in the restored building. 394 The Queen Victoria Building too was soon to become a victim of its own success, and the technological and social change that its design had heralded. The site bounded by George, Druitt, York and the aptly named Market Streets had always been the site of a city market place, going back to the 1820 creation of colonial architect Francis Greenway. 395 This, as with later structures, had been pulled down to accommodate the expanding use of the site. By the time the city council decided upon the grand edifice to cap off decades of planning and financial uncertainty, the original role for the building was inextricably changing. Public transport was expanding and the move to suburbia meant that the need for a central produce market became less important for the city. Consumers would travel in greater numbers into the city to buy clothes, furniture and new electrical items for their homes: they would not do so to buy potatoes, cabbages and meat. Locales that had been the residential areas for Sydney’s working class Irish and English near the Darling Harbour docks, and the Haymarket and Goulburn Street districts, were now more significant as centres of the city’s Chinese population, and these residents were served by their own supply stores. 396 Bulk produce was catered for with the expansion of Paddy’s markets down in the Haymarket, while family produce was being purchased direct from shopping strips in the inner suburbs such as Newtown’s King Street. This ambivalent attitude was reflected in the press reportage of the Federation parade. Beyond providing an elevated vantage point, little mention was made of the Queen Victoria Building in the press, certainly compared with other sites such as Martin Place and the Sydney Town Hall. 397 Within two decades, the grand vision faded as the financial viability of the building became less secure. In 1917 and then 1934 “modernisation” took place to try to attract 392 The Sydney Morning Herald: 27 July 1903, p. 6. Death of Mr Quong Tart. “The news of the death of Mr Quong Tart, which took place as his residence, Ashfield, last night, will be received with general regret.” 393 The Gundagai Times and Tumut, Adelong and Murrumbidgee District Advertiser: 28 July 1903, p. 3. Death of Quong Tart. “Mr Quong Tart, the well-known Chinese merchant and philanthropist, died at Ashfield last night.” 394 Suzanne Stirling and Helen Ivory: QVB – an improbable story, p. 36. “Although Quong Tart met with an untimely end and was mourned by many, he provided the QVB with its only ghost. After a brutal attack during a robbery and his subsequent death, Quong Tart’s spectre was seen walking the QVMB’s arcades at night…even today.” 395 Suzanne Stirling and Helen Ivory: QVB – an improbable story, p. 27. 396 The Sydney Morning Herald: 26 December 1908, p. 11. Sydney Streets. 397 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 8. 123 any available rental clientele. 398 The ornate tessellated floors and open gallery spaces were concreted over as the structure was divided into money making pigeon holes for low end clothing, wine cellar storage and even the city’s council library. 399 In the end, the building was saved from demolition by political pressure from the growing environmental and heritage lobby, and the growing realisation that modernism was not producing the kind of city that all people wanted to inhabit. In 1983, the Malaysian Businessman Yap Lim Sen and his company Ipoh Garden Berhad, Sydney Lord Mayor Doug Sutherland and heritage architect Ross Gardner, combined to bring the building back to life 400 . The Second Opening of the Queen Victoria Building took place on 18 November 1986. Pierre Cardin described the redeveloped centre as “the most beautiful shopping centre in the world”, 401 but it would still take another two decades to return the structure back to its true Federation era design. It also became fitting that the city that hosted the Federation of the nation should boast as its showcase a building named for the monarch who was the very epitome of Empire. The current Queen Victoria Building not only contains glass cased displays of imperial regalia but an imposing statue of Victoria, Queen of the British Empire and Empress of India, who dominates its forecourt. 402 Originally unveiled in 1908, in the grounds of Leinster House, Ireland, home of the Royal Dublin society, the statue was placed into storage in 1948 at the Royal Hospital Kilmainham. Eventually, Doug Sutherland arranged to have the bronze placed on permanent loan proudly in front of the newly restored building. 398 Suzanne Stirling and Helen Ivory: QVB – an improbable story, p. 41. 399 The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 July 1927, p. 11. “Dr Bradfield had pointed out that it might not be necessary to demolish the Queen Victoria Building until 1932.” Sydney Morning Herald: 16 February 1954. Ironically, by 1954 Premier Cahill was happy to present the building as part of the city’s celebration for the visit of the new monarch Queen Elizabeth II. 400 Suzanne Stirling and Helen Ivory: QVB – an improbable story, pp. 57-59. 401 Suzanne Stirling and Helen Ivory: QVB – an improbable story, p. 68. 402 Inside History: Story of the statue in front of Sydney’s Queen Victoria Building online database. “The statue in question is not regarded as a valuable or attractive work of art; nevertheless, it is not thought that its effect on popular taste is so debasing as to necessitate the expenditure of public funds on its removal.” Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 67. 124 11. CELEBRATION AND COMMONWEALTH After the Federation parade passed the majesty of the Queen Victoria Building it then veered left into Park Street. The march organisers would have preferred the procession to continue past Sydney Town Hall and St Andrew’s Cathedral, although this would have meant then turning up Bathurst Street, which halts at Hyde Park, thereby requiring another tight right hand turn along Elizabeth Street. 403 The other alternative would have been to continue down to Liverpool Street, and then turn left for the straight march up to Oxford Street and the route to Centennial Park. However, the gradient down George Street would have been rather prohibitive, and the short sharp climb back up Liverpool Street at the corner now occupied by the Mark Foy’s Building Law Courts is, even today, much steeper. 404 There was apparently an even more convoluted plan to turn up Park Street, back down Pitt Street to King Street, up to Elizabeth Street and then along the side of Hyde Park to Park Street. 405 It would seem obvious today that this would have been quite impractical for the marchers and horse drawn vehicles, as well as adding considerable distance to the march. Whatever the reason, the formalisation of this section of the route was also left very much to the last minute. It was thus notable that the Sydney Federation parade (and the later Melbourne march) turned prior to passing the city’s Town Hall. While this symbol of civic pride was festooned with decorations, 406 the marchers did not proceed past the forecourt and allow the civic fathers the opportunity to preside over events from the steps. St Andrew’s Cathedral, being located next to the Town Hall, suffered from the same geographical fate. In the intervening years since Federation, this major intersection and civic space in front of Sydney’s Town Hall has continued to fulfil its role as the focal point of the city. For example, during the Second World War troops returning from the Middle East marched down George Street, past the Queen Victoria Building and into 403 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 69. 404 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 70. 405 The Sydney Morning Herald: 24 November 1900, p. 9. The Route To Be Reduced. “It may be taken as practically settled that the route of the procession formally agreed to at a conference between the Premier and the Citizens’ Committee, but since strongly objected to on account of the ‘doubling back’…will be modified. Strong representations upon the danger to life of such a route being adopted have been made to the Premier by the Mayor of Sydney and the Inspector General of Police… In addition to this, the Citizens’ Committee, being impressed with the consensus of public opinion against the longer route, will, it is understood, approve of the shorter one being adopted.” 406 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 8. Even then, the Telegraph could note that “The open space on which the noble pile stands is a relief to the eye after the incessant rows of business premises that shut out the sky”. 125 the Town Hall Square for their salute to be taken by the Governor General Lord Gowrie, prior to being sent up to New Guinea to stem the 1942 Japanese advance. 407 Australia was similarly embroiled in foreign wars at the time of Federation. The Boxer Rebellion was a relatively minor operation militarily, but of political and cultural significance, while the Boer War was the major military campaign that had occupied the media for the previous year or more. Disillusion would eventually set in as soldiers discovered that fighting a guerrilla war entailed activities that were far from the soldierly ideal. 408 However, at the beginning of 1901 support was still high, indicated by the reception given Boer War veterans, where, “the enthusiasm of the spectators was most boisterously manifested when the returned soldiers from South Africa and a group of veterans displaying their well-earned medals get into line.” 409 Interestingly, for a parade of military pageantry, the Boer War contingent did not shy away from the less glamorous aspects of military life; “whilst an ambulance wagon brought up the rear.” 410 Of the ten thousand troops lining the route, many were Boer War veterans themselves, and The Sydney Morning Herald at least looked upon the Federation parade as also serving the purpose of honouring the returned soldiers. 411 Thus did the procession skirt the edge of Town Hall square and turn left into Park Street, to be greeted by the Melbourne Arch. 412 This particular edifice was financed by the Corporation of Melbourne, 413 with particular instructions telegrammed to the march organisers that it be constructed at a prominent point along the route. 414 However, the actual planning and erection was left too late, and required the eventual assistance of the NSW Government Architect. Consequently, the arch ended up being cheaper and more 407 Australian War Memorial: Photograph image 026512. Lord Gowrie taking the salute of the 16 th Brigade in September 1942. 408 Craig Wilcox: Australia’s Boer War, 2002, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, pp. 162, 311-320. 409 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 9. 410 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 9. 411 The Sydney Morning Herald: 20 November 1900, p. 5. The Imperial Guard of Honour Honouring Returned South African Soldiers. “A parade of 10,000 troops expected.” Livingston, Jordan, Sweely: Becoming Australians – The movement towards Federation in Ballarat and the Nation, 2001, Wakefield Press, Kent Town, p. 2. Not all subsequent commentators have shared the original enthusiasm. While “others note the warmth of the reception given to the soldiers who had just come from the South African War”, Steven Alomes described the Commonwealth Inauguration as a display of British power and of ‘jingoism rather than antipodean democracy’.” Journal of Australian Studies, no. 20 of May 1987, p. 50. 412 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 71. 413 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 40. 414 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 10. 126 austere than originally intended, with the £1,000 allocated for a more elaborate structure being underspent by some £600. 415 Perhaps the photographic images of the time do not do the arch justice. Milne claims that the “beautiful structure” was well received and apparently popular, at least with The Sydney Morning Herald. 416 Amusingly, Milne also mentions the quote of Central Organising Committee chairman John Portus; to the effect that the erection of the Melbourne Arch would serve: “to show that they had forgiven us and that the long tradition of inter-state (inter-colonial) jealousy was about to be eclipsed.” 417 One could argue that, in this at least, he would be proven gravely mistaken. The Corporation of Melbourne could certainly not have been more pleased with this location of their arch. Even in 1901, this intersection was one of the primary hubs of the city; on the main thoroughfare of George Street, presided over by the Town Hall and Queen Victoria Building, and on the significant crossing of Park Street before it becomes William Street, still the main route to the harbour side Eastern Suburbs. Park Street remains one of the few locations along the route where whole rows of commercial buildings can still be viewed very much as they would have looked in 1901. 418 The block between Pitt Street and Castlereagh Street, on the northern side, retains many of the original business premises, with numbers 44 to 48 in 1900 having been the Kelly fruiterer, a tailor and Frederick Petley, tobacconist, with the then Barley Mow Hotel on the corner. 419 How long this small isolated precinct will remain is a moot point. The period from the 1930s to the 1970s had seen the construction of the T&G Building taking up the southern block bounded by Park, Elizabeth and Castlereagh Streets, only to then be demolished for the current Pacific Power tower complex. This is merely the latest phase of a long unfolding process. If you view the image of the Melbourne Arch, you will note that Park Street appears narrower than in current photographs. 420 As part of the widening process for both the main route to the Eastern Suburbs, and the creation of the precinct in front of the Town Hall, Park Street 415 The Sydney Morning Herald: 12 December 1900, p. 8. “The Melbourne city surveyor arrived by the mail train yesterday, and interviewed the Citizens’ Committee in regard to the erection of a Victorian arch at a cost of about £1,000.” The arch ended up costing only £400. 416 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 10. 417 The Sydney Morning Herald: 20 December 1900, p. 5. Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 41. 418 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 72. 419 John Sands: Sands’ Sydney and Suburban Directory 1900, p. 108. 420 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 71. 127 was broadened in the early 1930s. 421 This was accomplished by merely demolishing the southern side of the street and moving the roadway back by some eight metres. Consequently, while the heritage northern side has remained, the entire southern side of the street was totally replaced with Art Deco era structures. 422 The parade then made the short journey along the original Park Street to the Elizabeth Street corner of Hyde Park. This flat expanse which would have so benefited the marchers and the horse drawn carriages harked back to a strange geographical anomaly that had been already overlaid with a century of alteration by the time of Federation. The slight low gradient from this intersection back down Elizabeth Street, past the Great Synagogue to the new Sheraton on the Park hotel, was the site of the original source of the Tank Stream: in effect a hanging swamp. 423 Although the wider landscape of central Sydney falls away sharply to Circular Quay in the north, to Woolloomooloo in the east, and to Darling Harbour in the south and west, there existed a strange little swampy lake sitting on the edge of Hyde Park. 424 By 1901, this had been well filled in and drained, and as with the Tank Stream itself, lost from sight. While the Tank Stream has remained in the city’s historical memory, if physically in the subterranean, the stream’s source has been all but forgotten. 425 Hyde Park itself has been a reserve of green within the city of Sydney from the earliest settlement, initially as a parade ground, racecourse and playing field for the adjacent Hyde Park barracks in Macquarie Street. To the footstepper, is now obvious that the original existence of this swamp dictated that the surrounding land be zoned for open space free from built structures. The park had therefore been laid out with formal style in the 1870s and 1880s, always with the intention of it remaining the premier city’s green belt. The diagonal walkways are already evident in photographs from this period, as are the newly planted trees lining the paths. 426 421 Sydney Streets: Then and Now Gallery online database. 422 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, pp. 149-171. 423 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p 73. 424 Peter Bridges and Robin Appleton: The City’s Centrepiece – The History of the Sydney GPO, p. 20. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p 74. 425 While not claiming to be an expert on the history of Sydney, I grew up with a fairly sophisticated appreciation of the heritage of my own city, yet did not know of even the existence of this colonial site until researching my thesis. 426 Alan Sharpe: Pictorial History City of Sydney, 2000, Kingsclear Books, Sydney, pp. 60-61. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 75. 128 The Commonwealth, or Citizen’s, Arch dominating this significant part of the city was both the largest and the most expensive for the Parade. 427 “Two or three of the eight [arches] have been put up by the government. The most noble and ornate of all of them – the Citizen’s Arch – is being erected at the expense of the citizens of Sydney, by a committee of which the Mayor is the head, and to which subscriptions have been liberally sent.” 428 The cost of the structure was significant at £1,000; 429 a sum, quipped The Age as being “by far the most pretentious”, 430 and while the southern paper did mark that this amount had been raised by contributions from “a patriotic people”, it strangely failed to point out that the original allocation for the Melbourne Arch had been an identical amount. The size certainly was needed to accommodate the span of Park Street, as well as provide a suitably imposing spectacle. As previously argued, it then does become an interesting question as to why such a monumental statement of civic moment was to be merely a temporary structure. Although giving the effective impression of solid masonry, the arch was constructed only of plaster and board; 431 however its construction was considered significant enough at the time to have had Varney Parkes, the son of Sir Henry as its supervisor. Even today, the site appears to be perfect for a solid masonry structure permanently commemorating the Federation of the Australian nation. Many, including march organiser Edward William O’Sullivan and Varney Parkes themselves, also called for a permanent arch to be erected. 432 Total cost would have been some £17,000; within even the sometimes dubious organising capabilities of O’Sullivan. The size of even the temporary structure certainly would have been impressive, with a main arch being twenty six feet wide (eight metres), and the two side arches each twelve foot six inches wide (four metres), accommodating not only general traffic but also “sufficiently wide 427 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 76. 428 The Argus: 1 January 1901, p.5. 429 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, 2000, The 1901 Centre, University of Technology, Sydney pp. 41-42. Apparently there had been four such arches planned, possibly to cover all four corners of the Park Street bisection of Hyde Park, though eventually, only the one was constructed, 430 The Age: 2 January 1901. 431 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 43. 432 The Sydney Morning Herald: 15 January 1901, p. 5. Proposed Permanent Record. “In anticipation if the matter being considered by the [Citizens’ Celebrations] Committee, Mr Varney Parkes, architect of the Commonwealth Arch, has furnished Mr Hennessey with a drawing of an entirely new structure, which would be a distinct architectural triumph and an object of beauty for all time, besides worthily recording the momentous event which occurred on the first day of the new century.” 129 to accommodate two lines of tramways should it ever be necessary to lay them along Park Street.” 433 Obviously a considerable degree of thought and planning had actually gone into this proposal, with the still very classical form being based on a modern concrete shell which could later be veneered with marble, bronze or copper. 434 As The Sydney Morning Herald claimed, “The concrete would be everlasting and if the veneering …ever became defaced it could be removed and new veneering put on.” 435 A large permanent classical reproduction of the original temporary structure would not be out of place within the formality of the Hyde Park precinct, and could even cope with the ever larger buildings constructed on the adjacent corners of Park Street. “Complaint has been made that nothing in this pageant will be a lasting memento of the great event. It is therefore proposed to have marble models made of all this ephemeral magnificence and to store in the national museum. The Citizen’s Arch will stand for a few months – at least until the Duke of York arrives, and probably after.” 436 The grandiosity of such permanence would no doubt have been out of place with the sentiment of the times; the celebration of a dramatic event, but then the conscious return to the everyday; ‘moving forward’ to create a modern nation. As The Daily Telegraph itself stated, “We are a practical people all the time, and when we have recited the titles of the Queen, or the Governor General, and read the engrossing formalities of a State document, we are satisfied that we have accomplished all that it is necessary to do.” 437 433 The Sydney Morning Herald: 15 January 1901, p. 5. Gregory’s Street Directory of Sydney & Suburbs 1934, map 3. Within the decade the major tramline to Kings Cross and the harbour side Eastern Suburbs was indeed constructed. The re-alignment of the corner from Elizabeth Street into Park Street still exists as a palimpsest to the city’s tram network. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 76. 434 The Argus: 1 January 1901, p.5. The state premier Sir William Lyne was apparently against the “ornamental Corinthian style….. but the citizens through their committee took matters into their own hands and three months’ work was compressed into a fortnight.” 435 The Sydney Morning Herald: 15 January 1901, p. 5. 436 The Argus: 1 January 1901, p.5. 437 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 14. 130 12. THE CLASSICAL EAST The Federation parade, and my therefore footstepping, continued down between the two divisions of Hyde Park to where Park Street melds into William Street. As mentioned, this road was the main thoroughfare to the harbour side Eastern Suburbs, although the traveller would first have to traverse the less than salubrious gully of Darlinghurst and Woolloomooloo. 438 As the accompanying image indicates, it was this very view back from Kings Cross and Potts Point to the city across the poverty stricken wastes of the “Loo” and “Darlo” that inspired town planners to adopt the concept of the City Beautiful and the movement to suburbia. 439 The Picturesque Atlas of Australasia that supplied the original of this image of the city was edited by journalist and politician, Dr Andrew Garran. 440 The pro-Federationist Garran would go on to edit The Sydney Morning Herald and, along with those such as Sir James Martin, follow the well trammelled path from young liberal to “a colonial conservative incongruously upholding laissez faire against a rising tone tide of state control.” 441 Andrew Garran’s son, Sir Robert, would also go on to distinguish himself as lawyer and secretary to many of the Federation Conventions and Committees, secretary to the Attorney General’s Department from 1901 to 1916, and be acclaimed as Australia’s first public servant. 442 It is now realised that it was not the physical environment and housing either here, or in Darling Harbour or the Haymarket that was the source of misery, but the poverty of a people in the throes of economic depression. 443 The same inner suburbs spreading north and south from William Street now provide some of the most desirable and expensive housing in the city. This gentrification was well underway by the early 1960s with Woolloomooloo resident Frank Clune noting in 1961 that, “The streets and alleys of the Loo have been replanted and rebuilt, sweeping way many old slum tenements.” 444 The process still had a way to go in 1910 when Henry Lawson penned his descriptive picture of William Street. 445 438 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps D, 4. 439 John Archer: Building a Nation – a History of the Australian House, 1987, William Collins, Sydney p. 117. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 78. 440 Andrew Garran: The Picturesque atlas of Australasia, 1888, The Picturesque Atlas Publishing Company, Sydney. 441 E K Bramsted: Andrew Garran (1825-1901), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 442 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, pp. 375-376. 443 Geoffrey Blainey: A Land Half Won, chapts. 20, 21. 444 Frank Clune: Saga of Sydney, p. 39. 445 Henry Lawson: A Fantasy of Man – Complete Works 1901-1922, p. 485. 131 Beginning where the shadow streets Of vacant wealth begin, Street William runs down sadly Across the vale of sin…. ‘Tis William Street that rises From stagnant dust and heat, (Old trees by the Museum Hold back with hands and feet) – And where the blind are plying Deft fingers, supple wrists – ‘Tis William Street, exclusive, Where pray the Methodists. The blind courts see the clearer, Side lanes grow trim and neat, The wretched streets are cleaner That run from William Street. It was at this geographical point that the German Arch was located. 446 This structure was financed by the German residents of Sydney, although constructed by the same contractors as the Commonwealth Arch; Hudson Brothers. 447 It also embodied the concept of unity: “United Germany Greets United Australia”, which had originally been intended as “United Germany greets the Commonwealth of Australia.” 448 The change in text would have reflected the rather late confirmation of the use of the term Commonwealth in the title of the newly unified nation. 449 A confused mixture of respect, mockery and fear of an expanding Germany was evident within the press not 446 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 79. 447 The Argus: 28 February 1882, p. 7. By 1882 this company was already “well known timber merchants, manufacturers of joinery work and of railway rolling stock.” 448 The Daily Telegraph: 15 December 1900, p. 1. 449 The Sydney Morning Herald: 5 April 1897, p. 6. The use of the term Commonwealth was not universally popular, with at least one commentator mentioning the risk of a Cromwellian Commonwealth being imposed, and the poet James Brunton Stephens also indicating a preference for “The Dominion of Australia”. Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, pp. 46- 47. Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, pp. 348-349. 132 only during celebrations for Federation, but over other wider issues such as German influence in South East Asia. Such notions were not confined to Australia, although German civilisation was often considered preferable to others. “The decision must soon be made,” says the Hon John R Proctor, president of the United States Civil Service Commission, “which will determine whether the principles of constitutional liberty and self-government represented by the civilisation of the Teutonic races or the repressive absolutism of the Slav [assuming to mean the Russian Tsar] shall dominate the world.” 450 Clearly, there was a mix of admiration for yet another nation that had united only thirty years earlier, as well as grudging respect for the technical strength that was then both threatening the British Empire, and acting as a spur to the previously mentioned expansion of education. 451 Cartoons in The Bulletin, as often the case, seemed to capture the mixture of mockery, fear and tension. 452 A Casus Belli: “What defence can you offer for knocking him [a man of German heritage] about like that?” [Anglo Australian defendant] “He walked past my house with a German sausage in his hand.” [Anglo Australian judge] “Case dismissed”; [defendant] leaves court without a stain. Sydney’s Daily Telegraph dedicated a full paragraph to summarise the culminating fears that many Australians felt at the time. These issues further added to the impetus for Federation, again with Russia being viewed as great a threat as Germany. “The vested interest of Russia in the Chinese Empire [this was just prior to the Boxer Uprising] is now almost too great to relinquished without a struggle…..So the question…is whether Russian power in China shall be permitted to attain fuller development….Japan has taken the island of Formosa and want to add Fokien province on the mainland opposite to it; Italy more feebly demands part of Che-Kiang province…..” 453 450 The Daily Telegraph: 20 January 1900, p. 8. Originally written in a 1900 issue of Harper’s Weekly. 451 Neville Kingsley Meaney: The West and the World 1789-1914, 1972, Science Press, Sydney, vol.1, chapt. 12. 452 The Bulletin: 3 March 1900, p. 18. 453 The Daily Telegraph: 20 January 1900, p. 8. 133 At this geographical point the parade turned safely to the right into College Street where were (and still are) located two of the city’s primary, and oldest, educational institutions: the Australian Museum and the Sydney Grammar School. 454 The Australian Museum building dated from as early as 1849, with extensions being added as recently as the 1980s. 455 Along with the Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences, located below Central Railway Station in Ultimo, this was one of the few substantial museums open to the general public for most of the last century and a half. 456 Although Anderson discusses the role of museums in the relationship between western society and the exotic cultures being presented in their galleries, 457 it is also the relationship between the museum and other educational institutions, and the population they are meant to serve, which is significant. It was such access to knowledge that had previously been the preserve of a limited few that served to widen the concept of community. In contrast, next door stood the Sydney Grammar School opened in 1857, ostensibly to prepare students for the recently established University of Sydney. 458 The journalist and poet Andrew Barton “Banjo” Paterson attended the school from 1874 before matriculating to study law at the university. 459 This remains an institution for the limited few and has provided an exclusive education for those able to pay the fees, 460 or those granted scholarships. 461 The Federation parade would thus have passed, within the course of one hundred metres, a symbol of the aspirational working class utilising state institutions to gain access to newly available scientific knowledge, and a most potent symbol of traditional education still restricted by cost to the wealthy elite. 462 454 Photograph Booklet vol.1, pp. 80, 81. 455 Frank Clune: Saga of Sydney, p. 258. 456 Graeme Davison and Kimberley Webber: Yesterday’s Tomorrows – the Powerhouse Museum and its precursors, 2005, Powerhouse Publishing, Sydney, p. 222. Daniel Potts and Karin Sowada: Treasures of the Nicholson Museum, 2006, University of Sydney, Sydney, p. 9. The Museum of Applied Arts and Sciences has subsequently expanded into the Powerhouse Museum, adding to the Nicholson Classics Museum and Macleay Museum of Natural History at the University of Sydney, the WEA institute in Bathurst Street and the previously mentioned new Sydney Museum in Bridge Street. 457 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, pp. 178-185. 458 The Sydney Morning Herald: 25 March 1859, p. 9. Even a mere two years later, the perennial issue of state aid for non-government schools raised its head with the vote for £1,000 for Sydney Grammar from state coffers being postponed. 459 Clement Semmler: Andrew Barton (Banjo) Paterson (1864-1941), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. And if the “Banjo’s” middle name sounds familiar, he was distantly related through his mother’s side to Australia’s Prime Minister at Federation, Edmund Barton. 460 Sydney Grammar School: School Information online database. It is worth noting that Sydney Grammar School has a separate website dedicated purely to the fees charged by the school. 461 Photograph Booklet 1, p. 81. 462 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, pp. 180-181. Although referring to the development of colonial education in Burma, Anderson’s quote perhaps could also apply to post-colonial Australian culture. “Progressives – colonials as well as natives – were urging major investments in modern 134 The last formal structure to be passed as the Federation parade made its way out of the city was the Military Colonnade located at the intersection of College, Liverpool, Oxford Streets, and Wentworth Avenue. 463 A colonnade was chosen by Government Architect Walter Liberty Vernon, rather than another heavy triumphal arch providing a welcome break from the preponderance of more formal arches at all the earlier locations. This may have been rather incongruous at the time, since would have been one structure along the route of the march intended to convey an overt sense of military pride. Friezes on both sides carried lettering meant no doubt to demonstrate military solidarity with both Britain and the Empire, but also with New Zealand. “To our Comrades from Over the Sea” was inscribed on the northern side, while “To our Comrades of the Southern Seas” was on the southern side and thus unfortunately probably unnoticed by the marchers. 464 While this location has been designated as Whitlam Square since 1983, 465 the name appears to be rarely used, and is certainly not a common geographical identifier in the manner of Martin Place or Queen’s Square. 466 Although one of the major traffic intersections in the city, filtering the vast majority of those in both cars and buses to the Eastern and South Eastern Suburbs, this square’s modern claim to fame is as the beginning of Oxford Street, and the point of either commencement or termination for the annual Gay and Lesbian Mardi Gras. Participants and floats usually assemble further along at Taylor Square before conducting their own procession down Oxford Street to Hyde Park, thus reversing this brief section of the Federation parade from a century earlier. 467 schooling. Against them were arrayed conservatives who feared the long term consequences of such schooling, and preferred the natives to stay native.” 463 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 82. 464 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 48. 465 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Revised Maxi Street Directory 1988, map BB. 466 The Australian: 25 July 2013 online database. Councillors agree to put Gough on the map. “Although the intersection at the southeast corner of Hyde Park was named Whitlam Square in 1983, signage has since disappeared and the landmark is often not signposted on maps.” 467 The Sydney Morning Herald: 30 July 2013 online database. Plan to rename Taylor Square to mark gay pride. 135 13. CITY REDEVELOPMENT Once through the Military Colonnade, the parade turned into Oxford Street for the gentle incline up to Taylor Square, and then out of the city to the formal inauguration ceremony at Centennial Park. Oxford Street is another thoroughfare that would have looked quite different in 1901, primarily due to its width. At the time the street was a standard 60’ (18.3m) wide, but was about to change dramatically. The later 1908 Royal Commission into the Improvement of City and Suburbs recommended the widening of William, Elizabeth and Oxford Streets. “Everyone admits that Sydney has outgrown her plan (if her casual growth can be called a plan), as a child outgrows its swaddling clothes.” 468 In 1909 work began on demolishing the northern side of the street and widening the roadway to its present 100’or 30.5m. 469 One of the inevitable losses included the original Burdekin Hotel on the Liverpool Street corner, prophesying the later loss of the family home in Macquarie Street two decades later. 470 It was again an outsider who pushed hardest for these city improvements. John Daniel (Jack) Fitzgerald was a compositor and union activist from Shellharbour in Wollongong who rose through the ranks of the developing labour movement to find an eventual home within the establishment of Sydney. 471 Perhaps it was the range of experiences from his youth that broadened his interests and attitudes. Although from a strong Irish Catholic family, Fitzgerald attended the local state school and Fort Street Selective School in Sydney, as well as St Mary’s Cathedral School. An early member of the Socialist and Republican Leagues he had, through the party political shenanigans of 1893 “lost some of his trade union, Labour pragmatism and now sought social and political improvements by democratic, knowledgeable, alert and concerned professionals, operating at various levels of government.” 472 What was significant to the footstepper in Fitzgerald’s career was his trip to England in 1890 to publicise the 468 The Sydney Morning Herald: 11 June 1908, p. 5. City Improvement, The Royal Commission. The importance of expanding the rail network was also recognised. “Mr T R Johnston, Chief Railway Commissioner said the great need of Sydney now was a system of suburban railways.” Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 15. 469 The Sydney Morning Herald: 25 October 1906, p. 9. 470 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 91. 471 Bede Nairn: John Daniel (Jack) Fitzgerald (1862-1922), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 472 Bede Nairn: John Daniel (Jack) Fitzgerald (1862-1922), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 136 great Australian Maritime Strike within the British union movement. 473 While in Europe, he not only saw the grinding poverty among British workers and the squalor in which they lived, but more importantly, a possible solution in Baron Haussmann’s radical modernisation of the centre of Paris. 474 The plague outbreak in 1900 and the construction of the city’s new railway terminus provided the ideal impetus to experiment upon a rather small confined festering eyesore. For the first half a century of rail transport in NSW, the main terminus for the ever expanding country and suburban network remained at what was known as Redfern Station. Both names and locations for stations through the late nineteenth century were remarkably flexible, with Sydney’s Redfern Station originally sited in the gully between Chippendale and Surry Hills, adjacent to the current Cleveland Street overpass, while the current large Redfern Station was named Eveleigh. All that remains of the original terminus is the Mortuary Station that used to load Sydney-siders for their last ride to Rookwood Cemetery. 475 Plans had long been in train to create a major rail terminus actually within the city; at Hyde Park. However, there were two issues that remained unresolved: the public outcry that would have occurred if Hyde Park had been resumed, and the existence of Brickfield Hill that would have forced trains to travel up the same steep slope that precluded the Federation parade from following this route. 476 Finally, the same NSW Minister for Works Edward William O’Sullivan (apparently known as “Owe Sullivan” due to “the variety of his expensive projects” 477 ) put forward his proposal to move Redfern a mere six hundred metres north, into land that was currently occupied by the city’s heritage Devonshire Street Cemetery. A bluff good natured man who also rose through the printing industry into the Labour establishment, O’Sullivan even submitted plans for the new station. “O'Sullivan's sketch for it had all the salient features of the 473 The Sydney Morning Herald: 26 November 1915, p. 4. The Labour Party Jubilee, letter to the editor. “ I [T J Houghton]would like to correct one of the statements made by Mr Black to the effect, as published by you, that Mr Fitzgerald was sent to Great Britain by the Labour Defence Committee (of the maritime strike in 1890) to raise funds for the support of the strikers. At the time I was secretary of the Labour Defence Committee…so I should know something of the subject. The truth is, Mr Fitzgerald was going to England on his own account, and the Labour Defence Committee gave him credentials, through me, to place before the trade unionists of the old country the facts connected with the strike in Australia.” 474 Colin Jones: Cambridge Illustrated History of France, 1994, University of Cambridge Press, Cambridge p. 214. 475 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Street Directory of Sydney & Suburbs 1934, 2006, The Australian Book Guide Company, Sydney, map 6. 476 David Burke: Making the Railways, 1995, State Library of NSW, Sydney, pp. 139-140. 477 David Burke: Making the Railways, 1995, State Library of NSW, Sydney, p. 140. 137 Colosseum [sic], St Paul's, the Kremlin and a Yankee skyscraper.” 478 Fortunately for posterity, the government stuck with Walter Liberty Vernon, the Colonial Architect, to come up with the glorious Federation Free Classical styled structure that exists today. 479 An additional four hundred metres would have brought the city’s new rail hub under the lee of Brickfield Hill, at the point beneath Goulburn Street where the current City Circle line enters the underground. This is a mere two hundred metres down from Hyde Park and would have been easily accessible by foot from the Central Business District; but it wasn’t to be. When the grand station was eventually finished the premier Sir John See, prior to blowing the golden whistle that would formally open the complex, could not resist making mention that Central had actually “been built in the wrong place”. 480 But O’Sullivan’s heritage has remained as a much loved part of Sydney’s landscape. 481 “His reputation was based on his honesty, enthusiasm and humanity; his very blunders seemed to endear him to the hearts of the people.” 482 As mentioned earlier, the construction of the station entailed the removal of the 1,145 bodies from the old Devonshire Street Cemetery to Botany by steam tram. This was actually being planned while the Federation Parade was passing above along Oxford Street, and by 5 January 1901 the Minister for Works had published a letter, “to state that the utmost reverence and respect will be shown in regard to the human remains and tombstones in the Devonshire Street Cemetery. Before any workmen are allowed to disturb the ground for railway purposes, the remains will be removed to the cemetery indicated by the descendants or friends of the deceased.” 483 It is interesting to note the comment of the old British and Manchester radical, Elijah Dixon in Paul Pickering’s work Chartism and the Chartists in Manchester and Salford. Apparently, in May 1839, local Mancunians had rallied to protest the expansion of the recently constructed Leeds- Manchester railway through their local cemetery, requiring the removal of graves in their thousands. 484 That the Devonshire Street site was no longer being used, and that Sydney residents were actually looking forward to the construction of a brand new 478 Bruce E Mansfield: Edward William O’Sullivan (1846-1910), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 479 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 104. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 84. 480 Alan Sharpe: Pictorial History of the City of Sydney, p. 134. 481 The Adelaide Register: 31 May 1910, p. 7. O’Sullivan’s fame even spread interstate. “When Mr O’Sullivan designed (sic) the Central Railway Station, Sydney, he was laughed at…” 482 The Catholic Press: 7 January 1909, p. 16. 483 The Sydney Morning Herald: 5 January 1901, p. 4. 484 Paul Pickering: Chartism and the Chartists in Manchester and Salford, pp. 11-12. 138 railway terminus, would have been reason enough for them, however, to acquiesce to the State Government’s requirements. With the “uncovering” of the abysmal conditions of the poor, notably the Chinese, in the plague struck district of Darling Harbour; 485 the civic authorities would also take up the mission of cleansing the whole adjoining Wexford Street district. 486 This area was bounded by Liverpool and Oxford Streets to the north, Elizabeth Street to the west, the cemetery and future rail centre to the south, and the equally poor, but slightly less congested Surry Hills to the east. As mentioned, the Irish, who had earlier inhabited the district, felt that the dilapidated state of the area cast aspersions on their culture. “The new Irish League in this city has found a cause of complaint in the name of Wexford Street. At its last meeting, one of the members said that until 1872 this place was known by quite another name, and he wanted to know why it had been changed. Wexford, he contended, was insulted by the present designation.” 487 The Irish League member was, of course, quite right. An 1865 map of the city shows the area to have then been called Market Street, linking the area directly with the Haymarket to the west. 488 Photographs did present the district in a very poor light, although as Peter Burke has commented regarding the general attitude of city photographers: “According to their political attitudes, the photographers chose to represent the most run-down houses, in order to support the argument for slum clearance, or the best looking ones, in order to oppose it.” 489 Wexford Street was subsequently razed and replaced by the wide expanse of Wentworth Avenue. 490 The alignment of the maligned Wexford Street still remains as Foy Lane, now a small back delivery access lane that also references to the, then under construction, Mark Foy’s department store one block away on Liverpool Street. 491 The 485 The Sydney Morning Herald: 12 September 1891, p. 8. 486 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p 85. 487 Newcastle Morning Herald and Miner’s Advocate: 4 May 1900, p. 3. An alternative opinion on the issue was put forward by professor Anderson Stuart of the University of Sydney. “Wexford Street we have merely accepted as a name and we have never at any time connected it with the county to the latter’s detriment. It is generally accepted that street names have no outside application at all, and certainly none to their residents, and if the contrary opinion is to prevail as a result of the league’s decision, what of the many other thoroughfares which are even more libellously named than Wexford Street.” 488 Suzanne Mourot: This Was Sydney – a pictorial history from 1788 to the present time, 1969, Ure Smith, North Sydney, p. 54. 489 Peter Burke: Eyewitnessing – the Uses of Images as Historical Evidence, p. 86. 490 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 88. 491 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map F. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 88. 139 whole district was converted to light industrial and commercial as both social change and government policy was encouraging this very development. The new department stores needed storage warehouses for their goods that were close to the railway yards and close enough to the stores themselves that items could be transported by cart or lorry. As the new Australian Government sought to expand the protection for Australian industry that had brought Victoria into the Federation, 492 businessmen looked for sites where clothing and footwear factories could utilise the nation’s raw materials of wool, leather and cotton, while then being close to the same department stores for sale to the public. The newly modernised Wentworth Avenue arrived just in time. 493 Even after this massive redevelopment, the quarter continued to evolve into the district for car and then motorcycle sales. 494 With the rise of the 1950s Bodgies and 1960s Mods, the prevalence of large British motor bikes and cool Italian motor scooters lent an air of disreputable thrill to the avenue. 495 As happened with Oxford Street above, a period of abandonment has been followed by the current expansion of upmarket accommodation for those wishing, and able, to return to inner-city living. 14. MARCH OUT TO CENTENNIAL PARK From the urban confines of Darlinghurst, the Federation parade then marched out to Centennial Park for the formal Inauguration Ceremony. 496 The route originally taken has remained almost identical, as it follows the eastern ridge along modern Oxford Street from the city to Centennial Square, Paddington. 497 However, specific sites passed along the route to Centennial Park do demonstrate the great changes that can occur to both the built and social environment over the course of a century. 492 The Sydney Morning Herald: 19 July 1916, p. 14. “The Minister for Customs, Mr Tudor, was waited on today by a deputation from the Federated Clothes Trades of Australia, which sought similar duties for men’s ready-made clothing as were already in operation under the present tariff for women’s clothing.” 493 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 89. 494 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 18 November 1999 supplement. 495 The Sydney Morning Herald: 13 December 1951, p. 2. “There are two kinds of bodgies and widgies, the old and the young. The young walk on their own feet, the old have fine motor cars. The young are fools; but the old are evil. However, there is no excuse for evil, young or old…. In the 1880s bodgies and widgies of the day were called ‘pushes’ – originating, I think, in Melbourne.” Of course! 496 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 91. 497 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Revised Maxi Street Directory of Sydney 1988, maps 11, 12. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps 4, 21. The one immediate difference noticed is that the route is now punctuated by twelve sets of traffic lights, these having increased from about eight sets twenty five years ago. Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 95. 140 As a newly established European nation being settled from virgin bushland, it is understandable that rapid changes in the physical surroundings would occur over the course of a century. Suburbs along the Oxford Street ridge such Darlinghurst and the inner east of suburban Sydney to Paddington were opened up through the long Victorian era, from the 1830s to the start of the twentieth century. 498 The spread east through the sand hills was slow, with the initial grand estates such as Elizabeth Bay House and Vaucluse House finding themselves gradually absorbed within the rows of terrace houses and bungalows. Maps from the 1860s show the city proper to have still halted at Darlinghurst, with Paddington just expanding as a suburb. 499 Waverley and Woollahra were isolated belts of sand hills, estates and hobby farms that would have taken almost an hour to reach from the city by horse and cart. As the parade progressed along this route the participants and spectators must have been aware of travelling from a city already a century old, into suburbs that were still under development. It is worth noting that, unlike today, public transport at this time often preceded settlement. 500 The image of electric trams in 1905 on Rose Bay Road (now South Head Road, the main thoroughfare north of Oxford Street), then running through virgin scrub to the isolated settlements further out gives a good indication that there will soon be houses along this route. 501 Unlike the deteriorating Darlinghurst, by the time of the Federation march, Paddington was an established and fashionable shopping precinct for these newer, comfortable upper working class suburbs that could now readily be reached from the city by public transport. 502 As the march itself demonstrated, even walking to and from the city every day was always quite feasible, with Centennial Square at the corner of Centennial Park still only a distance of around four kilometres from the GPO. By the Second World War the district had also then declined to the point of being virtually a slum; “still seedy and unloved, but with a bohemian, cosmopolitan atmosphere.” 503 However, with the 498 Brian Turner: The Australian Terrace House, 1995, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, pp. 60-61,81. Compare the compact early Victorian terraces in Surry Hills, the up market early Victorian terraces in Redfern with the mass of later terraces (now including adequate toilet facilities) spreading over the hills of Paddington. 499 Suzanne Mourot: This Was Sydney – a pictorial history from 1788 to the present time, pp. 54-55. 500 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 93. 501 Alan Birch and David Macmillan: The Sydney Scene 1788-1960, p. 204. The Sydney Morning Herald: 29 March 1923, p. 10. Bondi Beach Land Sale. Even in 1923 Crown Land on the flat plain behind Bondi Beach was available for purchase for brand new homes 502 The Sydney Morning Herald: 26 July 1906, p. 9. Raine and Horne were also offering brand new terraces in Glenmore Road five years after the Federation Parade. 503 The Sydney Morning Herald: 8 April 1937, p. 15. Slum Clearance, Paddington Council. “The Paddington Council has agreed to meet the Housing Board to discuss plans for the abolition of slum areas 141 move back to the city from the 1960s, and recognition of the value of inner suburban living, Paddington in particular became extremely attractive, and a valuable conservation district now only available to the wealthy. 504 After passing Darlinghurst Courthouse and Taylor Square on the way out from the city, the march would have reached the precinct formed by the meeting of Oxford Street with Darlinghurst Road, Barcom, Victoria and South Dowling Streets. Although the intersection has always been significant for traffic, linking Kings Cross and the Eastern Suburbs with the southern route out of the city, it is only now that residents have pressured both the City of Sydney Council and Woollahra Council to accord it recognition and a name: “Three Saints’ Square”. 505 This interesting example of the deliberate creation of heritage is centred on the Christian religious centres of St Vincent’s Hospital, St Sophia’s Greek Orthodox Church and the large Catholic Sacred Heart and Notre Dame Complex dominating the quarter. 506 In 1901, both the Sacred Heart and St Vincent’s had already been in existence as notable institutions for decades. St Sophia’s, Australia’s first purpose built Greek Orthodox Church, was still twenty six years into the future, although indicating that there were many Greek settlers already in the city. 507 In a way, this site also reflects the interaction of geographical and cultural nuance. 508 The flat Square between the gradual rises to the east and west still marks a subtle border between the racy end of Oxford Street running back to Taylor Square and the city, and the more settled and suburban Paddington. in the Paddington zone.” In view of the number of houses that remain, it would appear that the plans did not eventuate. Brian Turner: The Australian Terrace House, 1995, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, p. 84. 504 Sydney Morning Herald: 26 June 1935, p. 10. “Restriction on Flat Building.” Even in 1935, the threat to the Paddington streetscape by the developers’ newfound love for blocks of flats is apparent. Interestingly, one of the perceived threats is the increased risk of disease. “It must be remembered, too, that an epidemic is a danger to which cities of Sydney’s size are always susceptible.” Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 207. 505 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 92. 506 Sydney Morning Herald: 21 September 2008 online database. Project convener Sue Ritchie has said: "It's an area which everyone knows but it's never had an identity. It is the only five-way intersection on Oxford Street which doesn't have a name…..The area is a real mess…..We decided the only way there can be any unity is to get the community together and do something ourselves.” Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, map 4. It is worth noting that, even in this 2011 edition, Three Saints’ Square has not yet been listed with the established Taylor Square, Whitlam Square etc. It will be interesting to see whether the location really does become accepted in the future. 507 St Sophia Greek Orthodox Cathedral Group: Statement of Significance NSW Government Office of Heritage and the Environment online database. 508 As mentioned earlier, the hilly nature of eastern Sydney has meant that cultural distinctions such as suburbs and cultural connections such as roads have always been defined by landforms: hills, gullies and ridges. 142 Footstepping along Oxford Street from the city, skirting the edge of Darlinghurst and then up through Paddington, thus reflects both social change and social class. From Hyde Park to Victoria Barracks, a distance of one kilometre there are, for example, now six hotels, while from the Barracks to Centennial Square at the edge of Paddington, covering the same distance, there are four hotels, with many more within close proximity to the main road (the road map lists a further six on the two relevant pages). 509 The borders between Darlinghurst and Paddington, and Paddington and Woollahra, still provide clear breaks in the congestion of these watering holes. While there remain hotels in the main shopping areas of Bondi Junction and Double Bay, 510 the prevalence is far less noticeable. And remembering too, that there are now quite a few inns such as the “Millers” at Taylor Square and the “Exchange” and “New Burdekin” on the slope back to Hyde Park that would have been sites of refreshment at the time of the parade, but no longer function as hotels. 511 It is obvious that hotel culture was a cornerstone of working class society. 512 The consumption of alcohol was therefore also a social issue at the time. 513 Alcohol abuse was seen as a serious concern at the beginning of the twentieth century, invariably reflecting social pressures and individual reactions to economic pressures. Temperance societies were strong at the time of Federation, notably amongst the Evangelical and Methodist Christian Churches, and many of the associations such as the Women’s Christian Temperance Union were equally fervent in their role supporting the Federation movement. 514 On the other hand, Norman Lindsay’s cartoons disparaging Christian teetotallers and snickering at the misdemeanours of drunks, 515 and Sydney cartoonist William Edwin Pidgeon’s drunken tour of the hotels of the city even later in 509 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps 4, 21. 510 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps 4, 21. 511 City of Sydney County Council: Oxford Street online database. 512 Alan Sharpe: Pictorial History of Newtown, 1999, Kingsclear Books, Sydney, p. 70. Even today, every second corner on the main roads of most inner city suburbs features the ubiquitous pub. 513 Australian Bureau of Statistics: Crime in Twentieth Century Australia online. “While we can focus on significant differences, some similar threads run right through the century. Alcohol-related crime was a predominant cause of criminal justice involvement in 1900, while today it is substance abuse in general, but alcohol still remains a major component in criminal activity.” Interestingly, the national figure for assault (offence against a person was 2.62 per 1000 of the population in 1901, while a century later in 1999, it was 7.04 per 1000. The ABS describes this as a decline! 514 The Sydney Morning Herald: 8 November 1900, p. 5. The Temperance Cause. “Great United Demonstration. A Temperance Political Party. Monster Meeting at the [Sydney] Town Hall.” Although Temperance organisations did not march, their influence was strong during the Federation process. Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, p. 429. 515 The Bulletin: 5 January 1901, p. 15. The effects of intoxication are presented by Norman Lindsay as amusing, if socially embarrassing. The wider implications of, for example, “manoeuvres with Jane” and the sexual assault of young domestics is glossed over. 143 1933, implies a more easy-going attitude. 516 The issue, then and even now, was that pubs provided both a vital social hub for a less mobile society and a sink hole for the limited finances of the poor. 517 Social reformers, such as Mona Ravenscroft from the Department of Anthropology of the University of Sydney, even in 1943 recognised this conundrum; 518 “far more money is spent [by the working class] on non-essentials, such as beer, cigarettes, cakes, tawdry articles (sic), than by middle class people… [Yet] there is a vast system of clanship ties operating in these localities, and this background, deeply rooted in tradition, is greatly valued by people in depressed areas.” 519 As Oxford Street gently climbs to the east the Federation parade would have passed the significant site of Victoria Barracks. 520 Unlike most other public and private structures along the route, this would not have been a glistening new building even in 1901. The barracks were the first construction in the area, built by convict labour between 1841 and 1848, to move the military out from the centre of the city to the then isolated Eastern Suburbs. 521 The sand hills that backed onto the coast and formed the source of the lakes running down to Botany Bay were long considered good for little else other than sporting arenas, waste disposal and the city zoo. 522 However, the supplementary water supply for Sydney between 1830 and the 1870s consisted of Busby’s Bore, fed by a tunnel from the nearby Lachlan Swamps adjacent to the current Sydney Cricket Ground, to an outlet in Hyde Park, near the current entry to St James Underground 516 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, p. 216. 517 The Sydney Morning Herald: 3 September 1907, p. 10. “The city of Sydney is notoriously over- licensed. The slums would scarcely remain but for the liquor bars. The Sydney Morning Herald: 14 April 1909, p. 8. Again, such continual complaints that there are too many hotels in Sydney would indicate that this really was a serious problem, at least as far as Herald readers were concerned. 518 John Rickard: Australia – a cultural history, p. 183. “The accommodation reached between the hedonism of the ‘workingman’s paradise’ and the morality of Protestant wowserism was symptomatic of Australian social practice. Thus most approved, or at least accepted strict laws relating to drinking and gambling, while at the same time sardonically acknowledging sly grog, off course SP betting and two-up as an authentically Australian sub-culture.” 519 Peter Spearritt: Sydney’s Century – a History, 2000, p. 206. Quoted from Social Horizons No1 July 1943: Ravenscroft, The Housing Problem. John Gascoigne: The Enlightenment and the Origins of European Australia, p. 116. “As Elizabeth Windschuttle points out, its base [female temperance] was a growing Australian middle class which sought to reshape the behaviour of the working classes in particular.” 520 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 93. 521 Suzanne Mourot: This Was Sydney – a pictorial history from 1788 to the present time, p. 120. Philip Cox and Clive Lucas: Australian Colonial Architecture, 1978, Lansdowne Publishing, Sydney, pp. 222- 223. 522 Sydney Mail: 1 January 1901, p. 28. Even the map for the Federation Parade notes this aspect of land use. 144 Railway Station. 523 The new barracks would thus also provide security for the water pipe that ran through the military site on its way under Oxford Street to the city. At the top of what would have been quite a substantial climb for the marchers and for horses carrying riders or pulling cars, stands Paddington Town Hall, and the beginning of the fashionable Paddington shopping strip. 524 Although quiet and sober in 1901, and certainly quiet and refined today, Paddington Town Hall has hosted significant episodes throughout Sydney’s recent history. Rock Concerts, Trades Union meetings and even Homosexual Conferences 525 have all used the facility strategically placed at the hub of eastern and south eastern Sydney. From this locale it is a flat eight hundred metres, and a less than ten minute march, along the top of the ridge to Centennial Square and the entry point for Centennial Park. It was more than apt that the Federation Parade organisers should have chosen Centennial Park for the location of the actual declaration of an Australian Federation. Established in 1888 to commemorate the centenary of first settlement, the vast space was then only twelve years old, and still close to its original sand and grass banked lake shore appearance. Even The Sydney Morning Herald noted its level of isolation. “Until yesterday the Centennial Park was, even to Sydney residents, almost a terra incognita, heard of only dimly, through the occasional reports which have appeared in the press with regard to the progress of the [Centenary commemoration] work.” 526 Although the region may have been described as terra incognita, it certainly would not have been unknown to most local residents of East Sydney. A few years earlier, the city was divided over a notorious rape incident that took place at nearby Mount Rennie. 527 On 9 September 1886, sixteen year old Mary Jane Hicks was essentially kidnapped by a cab driver and taken to the spot that was then an isolated tip and waste area near the old Sydney Zoological Gardens. Today Mount Rennie is located adjacent to the Moore 523 The Sydney Morning Herald: 11 September 1852, p. 4. Mr Busby and the Sydney Water Works. “Amid all the discussions which have of late taken place respecting the Water Supply for our metropolitan city, one material fact has been lost sight of – that the venerable gentleman to whose forethought, perseverance, and scientific skill the citizens are indebted for their present Water Works has never been suitably rewarded for that great and most successful enterprise.” 524 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 94. 525 Terry Irving and Rowan Cahill: Radical Sydney, p. 326. 526 The Sydney Morning Herald: 27 January 1888, p. 3. “The Scene at the Park, the day after the dedication.” Alan Birch and David Macmillan: The Sydney Scene 1788-1960, p. 203. 527 The Sydney Morning Herald: 14 September 1886, p3. The Moore Park Outrage. “Two more prisoners before the court.” Sydney Mail: 1 January 1901. Again, the Federation march map is the most accurate for locating this site with Anzac Parade, the golf course and Mount Steele (fundamentally the same hill). 145 Park Golf Course, and can be seen clearly from the Southern Distributor as the expressway crosses Cleveland Street. The Mount Rennie / Mount Steele complex is used now for primarily for grass skiing: it is still an isolated location at night. Apparently the cab driver attempted to assault the girl, when she was ‘rescued’ by a group of larrikins, the Waterloo Push, and then raped by around a dozen of the youths. The case caused a storm of controversy: the obvious suffering of the young girl, authorities attempting to clamp down on the rise of ‘Larrikinism’, 528 who was actually guilty, and of course, why the gang just happened to be in the location at the time. The girl not only had the trauma of rape to contend with, she was then required to face her attackers (while still under sedation) and indicate by a nod or shake of her head who was responsible; knowing that she was then likely condemning the youths to death. 529 The authorities were adamant. “On the day before the Executive met to consider the matter a deputation waited upon his Excellency the Governor urging that the prerogative of mercy should be exercised.” However, the Judge, Sir William Windeyer “characterised the crime that had been committed on the woman, Mary Jane Hicks, as so atrocious and horrible that every lover of his country must feel that it was a disgrace to our civilisation.” 530 By now the march would have reached Centennial Square and turned right to proceed down Lang Road rather than enter through the main Oxford Street gates. At the time, this side road was called Green Street, no doubt referring to the greenery that would have lined the road prior to the large 1920s and 1930s houses being built, but would later be changed to commemorate Presbyterian Minister John Dunmore Lang. 531 The steepness of the slope from the formal Parkes Drive to the short Hamilton Drive must 528 The Sydney Morning Herald: 12 February 1892, p. 7. Verdict of Wilful Murder. “John Smith… having seen the deceased placed in a cab… He had seen three men near the fire station a few minutes previously, but had not recognised them. The coroner said…I am perfectly certain of that, and that the Government will take such steps, seeing the length to which larrikinism has gone, to protect you from coming to any harm…” 529 Alan Sharpe: Pictorial History of Newtown, p. 104. 530 The Sydney Morning Herald: 23 December 1886, p. 3. 7 January 1887, p. 3. The Mount Rennie Outrage. Alan Sharpe: Pictorial History of Newtown, p. 105. In the event, four youths went to the gallows on 7 January 1887, five were sentenced to long prison terms, and the cab driver, Charles Sweetman, received fifty lashes and fourteen years gaol. As a postscript, one of the accused, Mick Donnellan, released after ten years behind bars still claiming his innocence, devoted the rest of his life to social work in the local district, and later became a city alderman. 531 The Sydney Morning Herald: 15 December 1926, p. 20. NSW State Government Office of Environment & Heritage: Martin Road Heritage Conservation Area online database. 146 have been an issue, so the parade entered the now named Jervois Avenue 532 gates and preceded around the Grand Drive to the Pavilion. 533 Ironically, this would have meant by-passing the marble 1897 statue of Sir Henry Parkes, the Father of Federation 534 located at the intersection of Parkes Drive and Hamilton Drive 535 This edifice would suffer a further indignity in 1970 when the marble itself was damaged by vandals, 536 and it was not until 1996 that State Premier Bob Carr unveiled the current Alan Somerville bronze statue in its place. As can be seen in the photograph, this statue resides on the original plinth, still bearing the gold letters: Sir Henry Parkes GCMG. 537 The Federation parade came to a close with the formal Inauguration Ceremony conducted in the temporary but inspiring amphitheatre. The numbers that were accommodated at the ceremony were as enormous as those that viewed the march through the city and would also have required just as much logistical planning. 538 These included seven thousand five hundred formally invited guests, ten thousand school children, one thousand four hundred members of choir and chorus, not to mention the one hundred and fifty thousand members of the general public in the surrounding natural amphitheatre. 539 The majority of these spectators who had been awaiting the arrival of this parade would not have walked the distance from the city. The newly expanded and upgraded tram network had been put to good use in transporting the thousands from as early as 7:00am, although even this system was overloaded by the crush. The Sydney Morning Herald correspondent listed some of the tram routes that were covered trying to get people to and from the event: “Park Street, Crown Street, Cleveland Street” trams all linked in to the original Redfern Railway Station. 540 532 Robin W Winks: Sir William Francis Drummond Jervois, Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. Jervois Avenue was named after this former Governor of South Australia and New Zealand. 533 For those interested in the history, landforms and vegetation of Centennial Park, the NSW Government’s Centennial Parklands online database is of interest. 534 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 96. 535 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map 21. 536 NSW Government Centennial Park and Moore Park Trust: Centennial Parklands online database. Sir Henry Parkes. The Sydney Morning Herald: 9 April 2005 online database. Killed off by vandals, griffins come back from the shed. “Unfortunately, those [griffins] in Centennial Park could not put up such a good fight, unable to defend themselves against a more modern enemy; vandalism.” 537 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 96. 538 The Sydney Morning Herald: 10 December 1900, p. 6. “Mr Vernon, the government Architect, has prepared the plan for the seating of the distinguished guests who have been invited to witness the swearing-in of the Governor-General at Centennial Park. Provision has been made for seating 7,000 guests.” 539 Australian Broadcasting Commission: Australia’s Centenary of Federation, 2000, ABC 100 years online database, Sydney, Inauguration notes, quoting unnamed newspaper cutting. Photograph Booklet vol.1 p. 98. 540 The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 January 1901, p.16. One is left wondering, however, why such important information was placed back on page 16. Many newspapers mention the real danger of loss 147 The dispersal after the Inauguration of the Commonwealth of Australia event was apparently as efficient, with public transport again providing an effective service. “Trams could also be lined up in Flinders Street. This would relieve the overcrowding in the street at once… And as the last cheer died away, drowned in the resonance of the National Anthem, the brilliant company which had graced the pavilion moved homewards, and the bright and brilliant inauguration of the Commonwealth of Australia was a thing of the past.” 541 This natural amphitheatre is still occasionally used for performance and entertainment today, judging by the signage, 542 although the area that saw the Inauguration of Federated Australia in 1901 now appears isolated, and only regularly visited by passing residents walking their dogs. 543 and injury to the large number of children whose schools and families would have been reliant upon the transport system. 541 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 9. 542 Photograph Booklet vol.1, p. 99. 543 Gavin Souter: Lion and Kangaroo – the initiation of Australia 1901-1919, p. 324. Writing in 1976, Gavin Souter was able to reflect on the level of cultural memory of the event. “Although the 75 th anniversary of Federation passed almost without notice, the jubilee in 1951 was celebrated with great assiduity throughout the Commonwealth. A commemorative plaque was erected on what remained of the pavilion in which the Commonwealth had been proclaimed in Centennial Park. This hexagon wooden structure, minus its original white exterior, was moved in 1901 to Cabarita Park, beside the Parramatta River, where it stands to this day as shabby and forgotten memento of proclamation day.” Australian Government Department of the Environment: Federation Pavilion (former), Cabarita Rd, Cabarita, NSW, Australia website. “The former Federation Pavilion is located near the centre of Cabarita Park. The pavilion is much altered from its original 1901 appearance, with most of its ornate features gone.” 148 MELBOURNE FEDERATION PARADE 1. POINT OF COMPARISON After investigating and analysing the principal Federation parade in Sydney, I now prepared to follow a similar methodology in Melbourne. Part of my evaluation process was to compare and contrast both the marches in the two capital cities with a view to making a contribution to the public record through the analysis of my footstepping methodology. As well as undertaking an historical study of the actual marches themselves, I also intended to explore the more general interpretive process whereby similar studies could be replicated and analysed in a more general form. To this end, the different experiences of the two cities that I brought to the interpretation of the two parades would not only provide a contrast, but also a valuable guide as to the true effectiveness of my theoretical approach. Determining the degree to which a researcher could use the footstepping technique, interpreted through the process of thick description would be partially dependent upon the degree to which this process is independent of personal knowledge and previous experience. 1 Consequently the parades in the two cities offered a unique opportunity to contrast levels of familiarity and background knowledge and their influence on the footstepping and thick description: the degree to which personal experience influences analysis of the historical process. Having grown up in the inner suburbs of Sydney through the late 1950s and 1960s, I brought to my analysis of the first march both a strong familiarity with this urban environment and, even as it has changed over the last half a century, a feel for the city and a level of knowledge of its history and its culture. My analysis of the Sydney Federation inauguration parade would therefore be both consciously and unconsciously supplemented by an appreciation that I was able to constantly draw upon to add to the 1 As I mentioned in the Introduction, my purpose in analysing the two Federation marches was twofold: Firstly, to actually determine how people at the time thought of the emerging Australian identity through the process of footstepping: investigating whether those without an Anglo Saxon or Anglo Celtic cultural and racial heritage could, or should, participate in the new nation that was being created, Secondly, to evaluate the methodology itself, and determine whether it is even viable to attempt to rely upon this non- literate technique of footstepping to uncover these attitudes, particularly for a community rather than for individuals. 149 investigative process. Living in an environment not only enables one to absorb the culture first hand as it is directly experienced, but also through family recollections, remembered incidents and even articles in the daily newspapers coming into the household; and these can traverse generations. My own memory of trams in Sydney is fleeting, since they had all gone by the time I was nine years of age. However I was always aware, through family stories and through observation of the tracks still embedded in local concrete roads, the empty sheds and altered street alignments, that the city had once boasted one of the most extensive tramway networks in the world. 2 In the case of Melbourne, I was totally reliant upon the information that could be gleaned from the experience of footstepping, and from what I could learn from the press and commentaries of the time, as well as written historical observations over the intervening years. The practical process that I undertook for this thesis corresponded with only the second time that I had visited Melbourne, and the first time that I had walked the streets of the southern city. 3 Consequently, I intended to discover whether there is indeed validity in evaluating experiences and attitudes from the past without either total reliance the written record or reliance upon personal memory. Is this a viable approach for the many instances when historians attempt to analyse past circumstances of which they have effectively no prior personal experience and only second and third order knowledge? Many of the other writers inspiring the methodology behind my thesis were in a similar situation to that which I found myself in Melbourne: be it Clifford Geertz in Morocco, George Orwell in Wigan, Richard Holmes in France and Italy, Michael Wood at Troy, or Jonathan Raban in the Modern Middle East. In each case, they were approaching the physical reality of their studied cultures for the first time. The tenor of their travelogues through time and space is partly centred on the very novelty of their circumstances. While most rely upon written texts, and have often been inspired by these written texts, there is little personal referencing back to these locations either at the time they were describing, or through experience of the intervening years. Geertz’s thick description and E P Thompson’s attempting to enter into the very essence of the event and bringing 2 Note chapter 7 and footstepping the Sydney parade; the development and expansion of the Sydney tram network from Federation, to its height during the immediate post-Second Word War migration boom, and its virtual overnight destruction at the beginning of the 1960s. 3 Photograph Booklet vol.2, pp. 2, 3. 150 to life even the most apparently mundane aspects then becomes not only the most effective way, but really the only way of analysing these experiences. 4 This approach has both the positive and negative aspects that were covered in the Introduction to this thesis, and ones that would quite likely have also affected my interpretation of the Melbourne march. On the one hand, coming with an essentially clean slate gives an immediacy unencumbered by expectations that may overlay immediate revelation with subconscious ideas and interpretation from the past. However, in viewing such foreign locations, there is the risk of simply missing out on much that is important, while compensating by reinforcing cultural ideals from one’s own background. The interpreter may be coming to a situation with a blank canvas regarding the new experience; however, they cannot come devoid of memory with respect to their own past social or professional life. For example, what Ryle and Geertz claim to be mundane aspects of the cultures that they are analysing may not be mundane at all, and it could very well be their preconceived view of what constitutes lesser and greater significance that is colouring their interpretations. 5 “Culture, this acted document, thus is public, like a burlesqued wink or a mock sheep raid,” Geertz notes. “Though ideational, it does not exist in someone’s head; though unphysical, it is not an occult entity.” 6 One could argue that although the physical expression of culture has to be physically visible, the interpretive and emotive aspects are precisely what do exist in people’s minds. There was also the other notable distinction between my approach to the footstepping process in Melbourne and that previously followed in Sydney. This centred on the analysis of one specific parade against a combination of events that took place over the course of a week. In Sydney, the inauguration of Federation was planned for the first day of the new century, and therefore all significance centred on that day; Tuesday 1 January 1901. There was the one primary celebratory march through the city on this day, and consequently I was able to accurately trace the route of this procession. The 4 As mentioned in the Introduction, this becomes the practical method for approaching the E P Thompson ideal of viewing past historical analysis through specific episodes. 5 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, pp. 7, 8. As mentioned earlier, although Geertz is describing Ryle’s famous sheep raid in central Morocco in 1912, he is still using the European third order description of the event to relate to the audience what happened. It would be interesting to have had as second order description from Cohen himself, or the local commandant, Col Dumari, or even one of the sheep raiders. 6 Clifford Geertz: The Interpretation of Cultures, p. 10. Thus, while some previous knowledge of the community may both colour and skew interpretation, it may also uncover valuable knowledge that would otherwise be ignored. 151 significant events in Melbourne centred on the opening of the Federal Parliament. This was, of course of equal importance, but more of an administrative occasion that was less focused on the one specific day. There was thus a series of parades, from the Monday 6 May 1901 arrival of the vice-regal party, to the Thursday 9 May formal opening of Parliament, and even further parades through to Saturday 11 May. Consequently, my methodology compressed the process into primarily an evaluation of the Monday parade through the city, but also included aspects of the other marches that also utilised the same established routes and arches. The Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York arrived at St Kilda Pier on 6 May 1901, and proceeded to the Princes Bridge for their formal welcoming by the Lord Mayor of Melbourne before progressing through the city along the route that I would follow over a century later. 7 Although the Governor General Lord Hopetoun returned to Government House and would not take part in any parade until the summoning of the new Federal Parliament, the other officials continued on for this very public march through the city. 8 The Royal Party would again parade through the city to the formal opening of Parliament three days later, on 9 May, following a similar route and passing under most of the same arches, although in a different sequence, since the primary purpose was now to arrive at the Royal Exhibition Building for the actual formal ceremony. 9 If this was not complicated enough, along with these previously mentioned events would be the other smaller parades and celebrations, including the Chinese Procession and Australian Stockmen Parade on the Tuesday. 10 Even Sydney’s Daily Telegraph became confused, publishing the map of the initial Vice Regal and Citizen’s Parade as that for procession to the Exhibition Building opening of Parliament. 11 Whatever views may have been expressed at the time regarding Chinese immigration and those Chinese resident in Australia, it is worth noting that the formal program for the week long Melbourne celebrations included the Tuesday Chinese procession. 12 7 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 6. 8 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 9. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 14. 9 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 9. The Age: 9 May 1901, p. 7. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 5. 10 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 9. 11 The Daily Telegraph: 7 May 1901, p. 8. 12 The Argus: 8 May 1901, p. 8. The Chinese Procession “Novel and picturesque display. If there is any virtue that can be laid at the doors of the Chinese, it is that responsible for first-class processions.” The Stockmen’s Procession. “An interesting exhibition. A piece of back-blocks life was set down in the city 152 Their part in the celebrations was listed in print along with that of the most Australian of icons, the Stockman’s parade. With such a plethora of activities, one could at least claim that the arches and other decorations produced for the Melbourne festivities were not wasted. For example, the Stockmen’s march began at 2:00pm on the afternoon of 7 May, beginning at the William Street Law Courts, and proceeding in reverse of the other parades, to Collins, Spring Street and Parliament House, then Bourke and Swanston Street, ending at Government House. 13 That same evening there was also a march of Fire Brigades commencing at 8:30pm on the eastern Parliament Hill along Gisborne Street from the Fire Headquarters, heading down Bourke Street and Swanston Street to Government House. 14 As was the case with Sydney, consideration was taken regarding the route of the primary parade, not only in the buildings passed but also time and distance to be traversed. These had to be long enough for the parade to pass through the main centre of the city and provide the opportunity for as many members of the public as possible to view the proceedings, but not too long for the marchers themselves. Early May is no longer the middle of summer, but daytime temperatures can still be quite high. 15 The Monday parade through Melbourne from and to Government House was timed to run from 11:00am to 2:00pm, with the Vice-Regal party previously taking a little over an hour to travel the five and a half kilometres from St Kilda to Government House. From there it was still one kilometre to Flinders Street Station, taking a further twelve minutes, and then five kilometres for the City march itself, returning to Princes Bridge after an estimated forty five minutes. As was the case with the Sydney footstepping, my timings also varied, since Melbourne now possessed the same level of restrictions posed by traffic lights, unclosed roads and far denser traffic. A century after the event, the walk from Government House to Princes Bridge took at least fifteen minutes, while the route of the march within the city yesterday. The Australian bushman was taken from his home amid the eucalypts and presented as faithfully and full as the exigencies of a procession would admit to the ‘poor little street-bred people’.” 13 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 8. 14 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 4. 15 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. Although both The Age and The Argus dedicated a large part of their newspaper columns to the organisation of the marches; routes, participants etc, there appeared to be very little coverage of the weather, once the events were underway. It was up to external press reports to confirm the positive hopes of the Victorian Government Astronomer. Zeehan and Dundas Herald, The Charleville Times: These were only some of the press outlets that described the weather on the day as magnificent, bright and fine. However, according to the Bunbury Herald of 25 April 1901, the weather a fortnight earlier had been bad with high rainfall and even “heavy floods are the consequence.” 153 now extended out to fifty five minutes. In this respect, the processions in the two cities actually mirrored one another. Sydney’s celebration began with a parade through the city’s streets and was then followed by a long straight march to Centennial Park. Melbourne’s celebration began with an equally long straight march from St Kilda, to be then followed by a similarly distanced parade through the streets of the city. 2. ARRIVAL IN MELBOURNE The second half of my footstepping methodology analysing Australian attitudes to citizenship at the time of Federation therefore centred on retracing the Melbourne Federation parade held prior to the opening of Parliament. Although there had been celebrations in Melbourne on the first of January 1901, the day that Federation was proclaimed in Australia, it was the formal opening of Federal Parliament on 9 May later that year which gave the southern city the rationale for its own major celebrations. Sydney may have had the initial festivities with the march to Centennial Park and the declaration that united the separate colonies into the one new nation, but it would be Melbourne that would play host to the new Federal Government; at least until a suitable site for a permanent capital city could be decided upon, and then constructed. 16 My initial footstepping was arranged for February 2009, so one important facet of the Melbourne parade was no longer going to correspond: the time of year and the season. However, in May 2011, I was again able to journey to Melbourne to retrace the route, this time at the corresponding time of year. As was the case with Sydney, this second evaluation would also include a further analysis of significant sites that were adjacent to the actual march route. This initial research thus took take place at a very sobering time in Melbourne’s recent history. I set off for Melbourne on Monday 16 February 2009, merely one week after Black Saturday, when the region north of the Victorian capital had been devastated, and the whole state traumatised, by the worst bushfires in the nation’s history. 17 Although now aware of what I would be travelling into, the journey 16 The Argus: 4 April 1908, p. 17. The Canberra Site. “In the Legislative Assembly, Colonel Ryrie asked the Premier (Mr Wade) whether, in the event of the Federal Government choosing Canberra as the capital site, he would be prepared to deal liberally in regard to the area of land required.” Sunday Times: 28 November 1909, p. 12. Yass-Canberra Capital Site. “The Federal Capital Territory Acceptance Bill has passed through all stages without amendment in the House of Representatives.” 18 Australian Geographic: 9 August 2012 online database. Perfect storm led to Black Saturday bushfires “The Black Saturday bushfires, which swept across Victoria in February 2009, were the most devastating 154 had been planned prior to the outbreak of these fires. Unlike the inter-state and inter- colonial visitors a century earlier, I had the dubious benefit of being able to fly to the capital of the former colony of Victoria, and therefore had to book my expedition well in advance. Air travel really has two compensating advantages; it is the quickest way to traverse the vast distances that, a century ago, would have taken days, or even weeks, and modern day air travel has the significant advantage of cost. While those of an earlier generation are able to look back nostalgically to the great post Second World War era of comfortable and efficient rail travel, the availability of even this mode of transport in 1901 would have been more financially restrictive than air travel is today. Geoffrey Blainey points out that in the late 1890s, for example, a train and coach trip from Adelaide to Birdsville on the Queensland, South Australia border would have cost the equivalent of one month’s wages for a skilled tradesman. 18 An equivalent air trip today costs about two day’s wages, and a bus trip of equal distance, half that. Henry Lawson’s poetic recollection of travelling by train from the Central West of NSW to Sydney, even in 1922, 19 would have been a relatively rare and luxurious experience. 20 Have you seen the Bush by moonlight, from the train, go running by, Here a patch of glassy water, there a glimpse of mystic sky? Have you heard the still voice calling, yet so warm, and yet so cold: “I’m the Mother-Bush that bore you! Come to me when you are old.” However, the very fact that relatively fast reliable rail transport could now connect the very isolated colonial capital cities, and connect the political and cultural leaders of the colonies, meant that by 1901 political unity was also possible. Anderson mentions the significance of transport and communications in establishing the physical parameters for the mental concept of a community to be created. 21 In practical terms, one could argue that the Federation of Australia was only made possible through a modern rail network that would later be paralleled by the evolution of air travel. While rail in Australia’s recorded history. They caused 173 fatalities, destroyed more than 2100 homes and decimated a number of townships, including Marysville and Kinglake 18 Geoffrey Blainey: A Land Half Won, p. 186. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 7. 19 Henry Lawson: A Fantasy of Man – Complete Works 1901-1922, Table of Contents, p. 6. 20 Henry Lawson: Poetical Works of Henry Lawson, p. 37. On the Night Train. 21 Benedict Anderson: Imagined Communities, pp. 22-25. 155 technology was available from early in the nineteenth century, it was not until the 1870s and 1880s that it would be utilised for mass transport. 22 Similarly, air transport had been pioneered during the 1920s and 1930s, but only became available as an affordable and integrated system during the 1960s. 23 Since domestic air travel has ceased to be a financial luxury, the train traveller of the modern era is now left with only the luxury of time for reflection. The famous rail journey taking George Orwell into the North of England in 1936 to essentially commence his literary career through footstepping the Lancashire coal villages gave cause for reflecting on the social conditions that he was to be reporting. “The train bore me away through the monstrous scenery of slag-heaps, chimneys, piled scrap-iron, foul canals, paths of cindery mud criss-crossed by the prints of clogs.” 24 It would thus be interesting to surmise the effect that the same isolated hours of refection and drafting during the rail journey back from Queensland, had on the effectiveness of Henry Parkes’s Tenterfield Oration delivered on the 24 October 1889. 25 The necessary ordering of the travelling public also tells something of changes in wider social expectations that have occurred since Federation. Rail passengers in 1901 were divided by travelling class: either first, second or in the case of Victoria, third; perfectly mirroring the classical social classes: upper, middle and lower. 26 The cost differential meant that travellers were accommodated in circumstances to which they would have been accustomed, with the added bonus that they would be travelling with folk of a similar background. This caused disquiet to the democratic Henry Lawson. 27 22 Patsy Adam Smith: Romance of Australian Railways, 1973, Rigby Ltd, Adelaide, p. 127. The miners leaving for Temora in 1880 would have been one of the first groups to have been able to take advantage of the expanding country rail network. 23 Jill White: Dupain’s Sydney, 1999, Chapter & Verse, Sydney, pp. 71-73. Note the images of air travel in the 1950s when it was still culturally prestigious enough for women to dress up in hat and gloves for an airline journey. 24 George Orwell: The Road to Wigan Pier, pp. 14, 15. 25 The Sydney Morning Herald: 25 October 1889, p. 8. 26 Patsy Adam Smith: Romance of Australian Railways, p. 47. Or in the more egalitarian NSW system at least, first and second. 27 Henry Lawson: Poetical Works of Henry Lawson, p. 126. Second Class Wait Here. This poem, written in 1899, not only describes the cultural norms of the time as they applied to the experience of rail travel, but also reveals a social radicalism that sought to practically expunge such class distinctions in a future Australia. ”And the second class were waiting in the days of serf and prince, and the second class are waiting – they’ve been waiting ever since.” One wonders how the poem would have scanned if Lawson had to contend with the Victorian third class! 156 At suburban railway stations – you may see them as you pass – There are signboards on the platform saying “Wait here Second Class”; And to me the whirr and thunder and the cluck of running gear Seem to be for ever saying “Second Class wait here – Wait here Second Class, Second Class wait here.” Seem to be forever saying, saying “Second Class wait here.” By the 1960s, the nation appeared more socially egalitarian, with only two classes available Australia wide to both rail and air travellers: first and second; but still with the implication that, through cost, it was material quality and social position that made the distinction. Now however, the two classes generally offered by air travel are listed as: business and economy. 28 The new elites are businessmen with (supposedly) important work to do, rather than those with purely social eminence. 29 Rail transport was not only one of the determining factors driving Federation; it was also one resulting from national unity. Western Australia was enticed into the Federation largely through the promise of a rail connection with the Eastern States, and eventually a direct line to Melbourne, Sydney and Brisbane. 30 After another half century of bickering, and the disruptive influence of depression and war, the final standard gauge link between Sydney and Melbourne was completed in 1962. 31 The introduction of the modern overnight Southern Aurora train occurred just as affordable air travel was taking off, and this iconic train and her two sisters, the Victorian Spirit of Progress and the Inter-capital Daylight Express would enjoy a mere two decades of viable service. 32 28 The Argus: 31 March 1954, p. 6. Even by 1954, British Commonwealth Pacific Airlines and Qantas Empire Airways were boasting of offering “Two Classes of Travel to America and England! Luxury 1 st Class and Economy Tourist Class.” 29 Qantas: Flying with Qantas travel home page online database: The International Business Class link still spends as much space promoting the greater legroom and in-flight entertainment as it does laptop ports and work tables. 30 Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, pp. 413-414. 31 Geoffrey Harry Fearnside: All Stations West, 1970, Haldane Publishing, Sydney, p. 145. 32 Rail Corporation of New South Wales Media Release: Southern Aurora celebrates 50 years of rail travel online database. In August 1983 the celebrity trains ceased, and were replaced by the more prosaic Countrylink XPT The eleven hour trip by rail could no longer compete with an hour and half by air, or with the far cheaper airfares. The Sydney Morning Herald online database: 15 April 2012. “They built her [The Southern Aurora] for comfort, not speed, but she could still give the XPT a run for its money.” 157 It therefore seemed ironic to commence a significant historical evaluation and foot- stepping expedition through old Melbourne town, by departing from the concrete, laminex and industrial carpeted Canberra Airport terminal. I was also commencing my investigation of an event that took place over a century ago from the Federal Capital city of Canberra; a place that in 1901 was still a series of isolated sheep runs. Planning for a national capital had involved buying NSW support for the notion of a Federation in the first place. Part of the incentive offered to NSW to lift the colony’s support for union was the offer of locating the new National Capital somewhere in southern NSW. The site had to be more than 100 miles from Sydney, to prevent the nation’s city of origin from surreptitiously absorbing the new capital through the expected expansion of transportation available at the time. 33 The capital was also intended to be in the higher and cooler regions. Federation fathers John Forrest and King O’Malley adhered to the prevailing notion that European Civilisation flourished only in cold climates, although O’Malley was quite prepared to place sensible limitations upon the degree of chill that European Civilisation actually required. He recorded his preference for the Molonglo Valley over a southern Monaro that was “an Arctic zone where a man went to bed at night a flesh-and-blood human being and woke in the morning a glistening iceberg!” 34 The final siting of Canberra meant that a rail connection had to be driven through from the main southern line at Goulburn, eventually going as far south as Cooma and Dalgety, with a spur from Queanbeyan to the national capital at Kingston. Although Walter Burley Griffin’s plan for Canberra included an integrated rail system throughout the city, 35 this never eventuated, and the rail connection to the outside world would always remain one track and fragile. 36 33 Commonwealth of Australia, ed. Cheryl Saunders: The Australian Constitution. Section 125, p. 118. “The seat of Government of the Commonwealth shall be determined by the Parliament…and shall be in the State of New South Wales, and be distant not less than one hundred miles from Sydney.” 34 Dorothy Catts: King O’Malley – man and statesman, 1938, Publicity Press, Sydney, p. 180. 35 The Canberra Times: 17 June 1947, p. 2. Griffin Plan of Canberra under review to meet modern conditions. “The keys to the future Canberra plan are the lakes scheme and the city railway, and until the levels and route of the railway can be determined and the plans for the ornamental lakes on the Molonglo River revised, many aspects of Canberra development will remain indefinite.” 36 The Argus: 5 February 1927, p. 14. Railway to Canberra, Route from Yass favoured. By the beginning of 1927, a definite decision had been made for “the provision of direct railway communication between Canberra and the south.” It was not until rail connections with Sydney and Melbourne were established that the Federal Parliament was able to move from Melbourne to Canberra. As with the later direct standard gauge connection between Sydney and Melbourne, the indispensable railway was only used by politicians for few decades before bowing to the inevitability of air transport. Bede Nairn: James Scullin, Australian Dictionary of Biography, 1988, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne vol.11, p. 554. Initially, this link was vital, with parliamentarians utilising the line to Sydney and Melbourne; and the 158 No doubt the earlier spread of the suburban railways in both Melbourne and Sydney was greeted with the same mix of trepidation in the face of the new, and wonder at the possibilities now available to ordinary citizens. One only has to look at the road maps for the inner suburbs of the two cities to see the devastation that must have occurred in the late 1800s as new rail alignments were pushed through closely knit residential communities. Melbourne seems to have dealt with the problem with level crossings and boom gates, 37 while in Sydney, the authorities merely demolished houses, butted the remaining streets up to the rail easements and then renamed one side, as though nothing had happened. 38 Once I had landed at Melbourne’s Tullamarine Airport, I then made my way into the city by fast and efficient taxi. It is always amusing to reflect upon the rapidity with which attitudes to such developments in infrastructure adjust to the whims of personal interest. Normally the sprawl of modern expressways, concrete bridges and overpasses can appear offensive and degrading to the scale of the city: like giant tapeworms aggressively pushing their way through the neat streets and houses of established suburbs. However, when relying upon a quick, calm and inexpensive journey from the airport to the city centre, the ribbon of four lane roadway can suddenly seemed like a very progressive idea. After twenty minutes I arrived at my hotel: Punt Road apartments in Flinders Lane. Not only would this location be close to the actual route of the Melbourne Federation parade, but is now one of the most atmospheric cosmopolitan locations in the whole CBD. 39 Melbourne has, of course, undergone a similar inner city resurrection to that of Sydney, although perhaps with a richer streetscape pallet to begin with. Up until the Federation era, both cities were centres of commerce and industry, but also the arrival of a newly elected Prime Minister, such as James Scullin on the 21 October 1929, was cause for the small station to be festooned with bunting. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 7. 37 UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 9. Note the seven rail crossings on this one map for the northern suburban line in a little over two kilometres; from Parkville to the station named for the famous Labor firebrand, anti-conscriptionist and supporter of White Australia, Frank Anstey. 38 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps 373, 374. Many examples still exist on the Western, Illawarra and Bankstown Lines. Note Council Street St Peters and John Street Newtown, which were originally the one road, and Marrickville and Sydenham Roads which originally both went through to Unwin’s Bridge Road. 39 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 8. 159 residential and social hearts of their respective colonies. 40 With the development of public transport, there followed three quarters of a century of movement away from the city centre to the newly evolved suburbs, 41 and now, again as with Sydney, the cultural flow is in reverse. At the time of Federation this immediate district around Flinders Lane was a place of industry, business and work; certainly not a centre of relaxed indulgent food and fashion. In 1901, the one short block contained various importing and manufacturing agents, including Cornelius Lister’s wine, coffee and spirit store at number 281. 42 My own accommodation at 267-269 had been the wool warehouse of Brooks, McGlashan and McHarg at the time of the Federation march, and would itself spend most of the twentieth century as an integral part of the ‘Schmatte’ (Jewish) rag trade. 43 A little further along, at number 305, was the dealership for the Austral Cycle Company. 44 With the development of the chain driven safety cycle in 1876, bicycling became the new high-tech mode of transport throughout the Western world, freeing working people from reliance upon limited public transport and the expensive to maintain horse. 45 One could argue that much of modern society that developed at this time did so as a result of the freedom brought about by the bicycle; attending sporting events and even the development of trade unionism (particularly in country regions). 46 People were now able to find work further than one or two miles from home, leading to the evolution of industrial areas separated from residential districts. Austral Cycles was also the promoter of the Austral Wheel Race; since 1887 one of Melbourne’s most 40 The Argus: 26 January 1934. What the Census Showed, Outer Suburbs Grow, Fewer in Melbourne. “The census taken on June 30 1933 showed that there had been a great growth of population in some of the metropolitan municipalities since the census of 1921.” Note the table showing the reduction in the population of Melbourne City from 187 261 in 1878 to 42 180 in 1911 while most suburban areas showed an increase in population. 41 John Archer: Building a Nation – a History of the Australian House, 1987, William Collins, Sydney, chapt. ‘Modern as Tomorrow’s Milk’ 1940-1960. 42 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory 1901, p. 41. As was the case with Penfold’s wine store in the Queen Victoria Building in Sydney, this facility puts paid to some of the notions a lack of sophistication in the pre-1970s Australian diet. 43 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 37. eMelbourne: The City Past & Present online database. Flinders Lane. 44 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory 1901, p. 41. 45 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 9. 46 Michael Cannon: Australia – a History in Photographs, 1983, Currey O’Neil Ross, Melbourne, p. 129. Gordon Cheers: Australia Through Time, 1993, Random House, Sydney, p. 80. “[The bicycle] seems destined to be a favourite vehicle not only for health…but as a safe and rapid means of locomotion.” 1884 quote by D E McConnell, publisher of: Australian Etiquette, Or, The Rules and Usages of the Best Society in the Australasian Colonies. 160 notable sporting events and the oldest track cycle race in the world. 47 By 1888 there were even races for women, with Miss Dot Morrell winning an inaugural event in Ashfield, Sydney. 48 Cycling had thus become both a relatively cheap and very effective form of transportation and it therefore seems pointed to note the lack of bicycles in both the Sydney and the Melbourne parades. The more antiquated and formal horse drawn carriages were evident for dignitaries, while the mounted military personnel were also on horses. Perhaps the raffish new contraption was not considered stately enough for such an august occasion, although there were cycle races included in the Federation’s accompanying sporting events. 49 Authorities were, however, quick to warn those many bicycle riders amongst the spectators that they were under restrictions and not permitted in any street through which the parade was to pass. “Bicycle traffic became so troublesome both to the riders themselves and other in the streets that Chief Superintendent O’Callaghan issued a police order directing sub-inspectors to notify the men on duty today that bicycles come within the meaning of the words “vehicles” used in the general instructions already made known.” 50 What I also first noted about Melbourne was the width of the streets and the fact that so many people were taking advantage of the flat terrain to rediscover bicycles as an efficient means of travelling into the city. 51 It was interesting to see the degree to which the new and exciting personal transport of a century ago was returning to the city, again providing quick and effective everyday commuting; granted that these cyclists would possibly come from the better off inner areas of Melbourne and had the advantage of public transport when the weather turned inclement. 52 The wide streets that allowed for the retention of trams in the city has allowed for the establishment cycle ways between tram tracks and the footpath. This strikes the newly arrived visitor as a potential source 47 The Argus: 20 December 1946, p. 12. Austral Wheelrace: The Austral Wheelrace online database. 48 Australian Almanac: November 8 1878-1892. “The Austral track race was started in Melbourne in 1886 as an amateur event with a grand piano as first prize, but four years later it became a cash race. The world’s first women’s race, a two mile title event at Ashfield, Sydney, in 1888, was won by Miss Dot Morrell.” 49 The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 January 1901, p. 3. “Grand cycling and athletic carnival for next Friday.” 50 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 8. 51 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 9. 52 It also seemed that the fashion was now for single gear or even fixed gear track racing frames with road wheels and brakes, perhaps reflecting a minimalist reaction to the ever increasing complexity of modern road racing cycles. 161 of accidents, although both cyclists and tram drivers appear more than skilful in rendering this a non-issue. One only has to read through a guide to the city of Melbourne published in 1956, half a century earlier, to discover quite a different Flinders Lane at its lowest ebb of cultural abandonment. At the time of the great post Second World War migrant boom and the move to suburbia, W H Newnham found “Flinders Lane at this point is like an old page of the city’s history. On a cold wet morning it looks little different to the prints of the same place a hundred years ago, with grim-faced bluestone buildings huddling together on either side of the narrow thoroughfare.” 53 With the demise of the clothing industry and its industrial warehousing, Flinders Lane has now joined many of Melbourne’s other little streets and opened up with cafes, restaurants and clubs. Fortunately, the bluestone structures have proven sound enough to be adapted rather than demolished, and citizens now continue to demonstrate their architectural preferences by flocking to the district for food and socialising. 54 3. FIRES IN VICTORIA Despite my personal preference for dated rail transportation, in this particular instance there was an advantage of sorts in flying over country Victoria to Melbourne. Looking down from on high I was able to view the result of what had become the most destructive (certainly in human terms) natural disaster in Australia’s history. 55 The February 2009 fires that ravaged the Victorian bush north east of Melbourne had resulted in the deaths of 173 people. 56 A week earlier, the ongoing national drought that had been cutting into the nation for years, came to a head with Black Saturday, 7 February 2009 recording one the highest 53 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, 1956, F W Cheshire Angus & Robertson, Melbourne, p. 54. 54 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, 2008, National Trust of Australia, Melbourne, p. 37. 55 The number of civil disasters in Australia’s period of white settlement has been relatively low, compared with shipwrecks during the days of sail and the wars that have affected other nations in the world. For this reason bushfires, floods and cyclones are more likely to stand out in the nation’s history. 56 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 11. 162 all-time temperatures in Melbourne’s history: 46.4°C, 57 and the country to the north east of the city exploding into flames. From 7 to 14 February, more people would die than in Cyclone Tracy and the Gundagai flood combined, 58 and over four and a half thousand square kilometres would be lost to fires that were believed to have been caused by heat, arcing power lines and arson. 59 By the time of my flight on Monday 16 February, the bushfires of a week earlier had died down. But the grey haze remained and plumes of smoke rising from the dark maroon burned bushland showed that the battle against the elements had not ended. What was bizarre looking down from the aircraft was the realisation of just how difficult it was to appreciate the level of devastation. The whole nation had been drought affected for so long that it was quite hard to distinguish areas that had been burned from those that were simply dry and dead from lack of water. The smouldering smoke and grey powdery patches where buildings had once stood marked the path of the fires but the destruction that had been shown on television every evening during the previous week appeared eerily muted from the air. I therefore arrived in a very sombre city. While Melbourne itself was not marked by fire, or even really threatened, the smoke still hanging over the airport reflected the sense of shock still hanging over the community. Even my taxi driver still seemed stunned by the event, and talked about the fires in the halting subdued manner of one still coming to terms with an event that had touched him directly. By the time of Federation, Australians had become well used to the threat and reality of bushfires. From the Black Thursday conflagration of 6 February 1851 that surrounded Melbourne to the east and north, 60 there had been a steady list of ‘black days’ that marked the late summer fire season. 61 Artists had recognised the social and physical 57 Black Saturday Bushfires: Australian Standards HB 330 Living in bushfire-prone areas online database. 58 The Sydney morning Herald: 27 June 1902, p. 5. Fiftieth anniversary of the flood, when “81 of the inhabitants were drowned.” Figures for the Gundagai flood vary from 80 to over 100 due to the transient nature of the population resident in the town at the time. The Canberra Times: 11 January 1975, p. 7. Police deny death toll higher. The death toll of 49 for Cyclone Tracy was likewise disputed due again to the transient nature of the population. 59 The Age: 4 March 2010, Royal Commission Report. 60 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 12. 61 The Argus: 28 August 1939, p. 4. Prevention of Bushfires. “New control plan by experts. Formation of a Ministry of Rural Fire Protection and Defence by bringing the Forests Commission of Victoria and bush fire brigades under one control was recommended by the conference of interstate forests authority chiefs in Melbourne on Saturday.” 163 significance of these disasters, from William Strutt’s depiction of this Black Thursday 62 to Charles Harpur’s poem “The Bush Fire” from his 1851 collection the “Wild Bee of Australia”. 63 When, with the dreams of Egremont, a strange And momently approaching roar began To mingle, and insinuate through them more And more of its own import – till a Fire Huge in imagination as the world…. On it came! Devouring with a lapping hungriness Whatever shrivelled in its scorching breath- A dreadful Apparition! such as Fear Conceives when dreaming of the front of Hell. Helen Irving mentions that even the delegates to the January 1898 Federation Convention were interrupted by the smoke from the bushfires that were surrounding Melbourne at the time. 64 Through the subsequent century, there have been Black Friday in 1939, the Tasmanian Black Tuesday fires of 1967, the Ash Wednesday fires of 1983 that destroyed much of the farming land in South Eastern Australia and the 1994 Sydney fires that actually entered residential suburbs of the city, destroying houses and killing four people. The 18 February 2003 Canberra bushfires brought the reality of the annual fire month home to even the residents of the national capital. 65 The traditional approach to taming the Australian environment has always been to enter virgin bushland and clear it for agriculture. Fires that erupted occurred either during this clearing process, where they really were bushfires that were unstoppable due to the limited technology of the time, or grass fires that were fast travelling but relatively less 62 James Gleeson: Colonial Painters 1788-1800, 1971, Lansdowne Press, Melbourne, p. 120. 63 Michael Ackland: Charles Harpur – Selected Poetry and Prose, 1986, Penguin Books, Melbourne, p. 142. The Bush Fire 1851. The poem was originally published in both The Age: 31 March 1851 and The Argus: 31 March 1851, p. 4. 64 Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, 1999, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne p. 368. “Melbourne’s weather was inordinately hot for almost the entire session, and at one point they could smell the smoke from the bushfires surrounding Melbourne.” Photograph Booklet vol.2 p. 12. 65 The Canberra Times: 19/20 January 2003, virtually the entire newspapers dedicated to the disaster. 164 damaging. 66 Ironically, as I will mention later, one of the groups notably absent from most of the Federation celebrations were Aboriginals and Torres Strait Islanders. The people who had inhabited the continent and managed the environment for millennia now had no place in the political and cultural future of the nation: those who perhaps had much to offer in teaching the later arrivals how to accommodate to the landscape and the environment were to be ignored. 67 This may have been understandable (if still inexcusable) at the time of first settlement, but the process continued into the next century. Geoffrey Blainey dedicated an entire chapter of his 1975 publication Triumph of the Nomads to firestick farming, 68 and Bill Gammage’s recent publication The Biggest Estate on Earth – How Aborigines made Australia further explores how Aboriginal people consciously created an environment that white settlers incorrectly considered to have been natural. 69 However, this Aboriginal familiarity with the landscape had rarely been acknowledged, although the survivors of the disastrous 1852 Gundagai flood were forced to concede that they had been warned of impending doom by local Aboriginals. 70 White Australia’s relationship with the environment has thus been expressed through various myths. Initially this was the myth of the rugged bushman setting out into the wilderness to clear his land; to control and civilise the country. 71 This was romanticism in both senses of the word: the Romanticism embodied in Richard Holmes Footsteps 72 as a reaction against the logical scientism of the Enlightenment, but also an impractical romanticism that refused to face up to the reality of every day existence. Since the 66 The Gundagai Independent/Advocate: 19 December 1921. The Illabo Fire. “The fire at Illabo on Tuesday started in the middle of one of Mr Moroney’s cultivation paddocks…Mr Moroney lost 90 bags of wheat, 90 acres of beautiful standing crop of wheat and 80 acres of a lighter crop. None of it was insured.” But no lives were lost. 67 Grace Karskens: The Colony – a history of early Sydney, p. 36. Geoffrey Blainey: Triumph of the Nomads, chapt. 5. The Burning Continent. 68 Geoffrey Blainey: Triumph of the Nomads, chapt. 9. Harvest of the Unploughed Plains. 69 Bill Gammage: The Biggest Estate on Earth – How Aborigines made Australia, p. 8. Thomas Walker thought the [Omeo] valley ‘the prettiest piece of country I have seen since leaving the Murrimbidgee [sic], very thinly timbered, indeed in many parts clear, with here and there interspersed a few trees or a clump or a belt, the soil sound and good . . . the sward close . . . the whole being intersected by lagoons: it is quite like a gentleman’s park in England’. 70 The Sydney Morning Herald: 5 July 1852, p. 2. The Gundagai Times…Advertiser: 30 June 1925, p. 2. A Memory of the Past, Floods at Gundagai. “Gundagai was originally built on the river flats, and was washed away in June 1852 when 72 people were drowned. Though warned in time few took advantage of it. Several lives were saved by an aboriginal named Yarrie in a small dark canoe.” Camperdown Chronicle: 9 October 1930, p. 6. “Yarrie, the blackfellow, or one of the sable heroes who saved many a settler from death on the occasion of the disastrous flood at Gundagai in the long ago.” Cliff Butcher: Gundagai – a track winding back, 2002, A C Butcher, Canberra, p. 84. 71 John Rickard: Australia – a cultural history, p. 65. “From one perspective, the function of the [Australian] myth was to idealise the men and women who confronted the environment.” 72 Richard Holmes: Footsteps – Adventures of a Romantic Biographer, part 3, Exiles. 165 1970s there has been a sea change in attitudes towards the bush and the mass clearings of the past. 73 Along with an increase in the number of hobby farmers wishing to return to a way of life more in tune with the natural environment, but still of course close enough to take advantage of the cultural rewards of the cities, has come an increase in the risk of fire. 74 Perhaps one effect of disasters such as the Victorian bushfires is to return the community back to a realisation of a social inter-connectedness that was well recognised by people at the time of Federation. Recommendations from the inevitable inquests into these disasters have always included better warning, more support from government authorities and greater communal co-operation. 75 Even during the lead up to the celebrations for the Federation of the nation, there were fires raging throughout the Riverina. The area from Gundagai and Wagga Wagga south to the Victorian border at Albury was ablaze, with crops also consumed by fires as far away as Parkes and Grenfell. Sydney recorded the extreme temperature of 104ºF (40ºC) on 17 December 1900; 76 fortunately to be punctuated by the same storms that then threatened the Federation celebrations. Men, women and children were lost to the flames, with the individual suffering brought home to local Gundagai residents through The Daily Telegraph’s description of Mr Patrick James O’Donnell Jnr who was burned so badly as to require the local Dr Gabriel to “send to Sydney for a special nurse to watch his case, which is very serious”. 77 73 John Archer: Building a Nation – a History of the Australian House, p. 230. 74 The Canberra Times: 12 November 1994 online database. First-time hobby farmers sought. “Nine hectare Wamboin property for auction through Realty World Rural has all of the features eagerly sought after by first-time hobby farmers without the hefty price tag.” 75 2009 Victorian Bushfires Royal Commission: Final Report July 2010 online database. Note Recommendations 37, 38 and 39 centred on the management of undeveloped rural lots (in other words, hobby farms), and allowing State and Local Governments to limit the number and size of such lots, and Recommendation 63 centred around State and Local Government Organisational Structure and the ability of authorities to legislate the control of previously uncontrolled districts. Alessandro Antonello: Learning and Settling – An Environmental History of the Federation Drought in New South Wales, 1895-1903, pp. 109-124. 76 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 18 December 1900, p. 6. 77 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 19 December 1900, p. 8. 166 4. ENTERING THE CITY As was the case with Sydney’s Federation parade, so too in Melbourne the climate played a significant role in the Federal Parliament celebrations of 1901. Inclement weather was forecast for both these major events, with the Victorian Government Astronomer Mr Baracchi stating that prospects for fine weather for the march on Monday 6 May were not very promising. 78 The final forecast on the day was for “light mist clearing during the day”. 79 Whatever views Australian governmental officials may have had towards Southern European immigrants at the time of Federation, this obviously did not affect their willingness to accept the opinions of the talented Pietro Baracchi. While Italians may have appeared to have been in a precarious numerical position within the new society, 80 with an Australia wide population in 1901 of only 5,678, 81 well-educated Northern Italians were still welcome enough to become respected members of the community. It is also worth noting that, according to The Argus, it was British-Italian journalist George Augustus Sala who had actually christened the city ‘Marvellous Melbourne’ during his 1885 visit. 82 Pietro Baracchi, as with Thomas Fiaschi, had been born in Florence (in 1851) and trained as a civil engineer before emigrating, initially to New Zealand. Finding work unavailable, Baracchi moved to Melbourne in 1876, where he joined (and was permitted to join) the Victorian Public Service. By November 1877, Pietro was an assistant at the Melbourne observatory, and after moving back and forth between departments, gaining training and promotions along the way, was appointed acting government astronomer in 1895. Although not enamoured of his role as official weather forecaster, believing “popular meteorology to be of little practical value except as an amusement”, 83 Pietro 78 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 79 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 6. 80 The Argus: 4 May 1904, “A White Australia No Italians Wanted,” notably Italian labourers into Western Australia. 81 Australian Bureau of Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, p. 168. 82 The Argus: 31 August 1885, p. 7. “So farewell Melbourne the Marvellous, city of towering warehouses, Parliament Houses…” The Age: 10 January 2004 online. According to the British writer Matthew Arnold, “His style was overblown – and he pandered to the sensation-loving nature of the populace" - but Sala also seemed engagingly aware of his own pomposity. He tagged his articles with the initials, G.A.S.” 83 J L Perdrix: Pietro Paolo Giovanni Ernesto Baracchi (1851-1929), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 167 Baracchi continued to fulfil this role until after Federation. He was then instrumental in turning meteorological functions over to the Commonwealth, 84 and in fact inaugurated the Mount Stromlo observatory, just outside the recently established site for Canberra. 85 As with Thomas Fiaschi, Pietro Baracchi not only had a genius for science, but also for the organisational politics that enabled him to play a pivotal role in the professional associations of the time; becoming president of the Royal Society of Victoria in 1908. 86 So too in Melbourne, the position of non-British peoples and cultures was complex. The Honorary Secretary of the Citizens’ Committee actually organising the Melbourne Parade was one Douglas Buzolich, 87 an influential member of Australia’s Croatian community 88 and one of Melbourne’s principle dress hatters and business entrepreneurs. 89 Other members of the committee of course still represented the traditional British base of the society, as their March 1901 meeting testified: “The citizens’ demonstration committee met yesterday at the Town-hall. The Mayor (Councillor Gillott) was in the chair, and there was a big attendance of committee men. The secretary (Mr D Buzolich JP) informing the committee that representatives of the Indian citizens of Melbourne had waited upon him with the request that they should be permitted to take part in the decorations of the city… Mr James McDougall and Mr Frank Stuart were proposed as vice-chairmen of the citizens’ committee.” 90 One of the most significant events arranged for “guests of the Government” was also a “Conversazione” held at 8:00pm on Tuesday 7 May at the Exhibition Building. 91 This 84 The Sydney Morning Herald: 17 December 1907, p. 4. 85 The Argus: 18 April 1923, p. 22. Solar Observatory Established at Canberra. “Approval has been given by the Federal Ministry of the establishment of a solar observatory at Mount Stromlo in the Federal capital to link up with existing institutions in England, India, America and certain European countries. The site for the observatory at Mount Stromlo was originally selected by Mr P Baracchi, formerly Victorian Government astronomer.” 86 J L Perdrix: Pietro Paolo Giovanni Ernesto Baracchi (1851-1929), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. Ironically perhaps, although having married into one of the wealthiest families in Melbourne and leaving, on his death, an estate “valued for probate at £32,779, his only son Guido became a foundation member of the Communist Party of Australia.” It was ever thus. 87 The Argus: numerous references through March and April 1901 to Buzolich’s organisation behind the Butter Arch, a proposed Swiss display and even the Chinese Arch and Parade. 88 Ilija Sutalo: Croatians in Australia, 2004 Wakefield Press, Adelaide, p. 168. Buzolich’s hats “Look well ahead.” It is worth noting that the Australian Year Book for 1901-1907, based on the 1901 Census did not list Croatians in its population statistics, but places them under Other European Countries, with a total of 434 persons listed on p. 168. 89 The Argus: 20 June 1896, p. 3. Advertisement for D Buzolich’s Strand Hat Shop at 23 Swanston Street, next to the entry to Flinders Lane. Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 65. 90 The Argus: 12 March 1901. Meeting of the Citizens’ Committee. 91 The Age: 4 May 1901, p. 11. 168 event was so popular that, “special provision has been made to prevent crushing at the Conversazione and Thursday’s State concert, and it is said that no more will be admitted to the building than can be comfortably accommodated.” 92 It would appear that exotic Southern European sophistication, both politically and culturally, was as popular at the time as the customary French. 93 Then, as now however, not even a sophisticated Italian was willing to forecast more than thirty-six hours in advance just what the weather would do. 94 “But against this gloomy forecast Mr Baracchi budged a bit. ‘At the present time,’ he said, ‘it is quite impossible for anyone to say exactly what the weather will be like next week’.” 95 In the event, conditions proved perfect, and as was the case with the earlier Federation march through the streets of Sydney, the new nation’s government was inaugurated in fine balmy weather. If there was any question as to the popularity of the proceedings, one only has to again look through the newspapers of the morning of the march. 96 Earlier, the Prime Minister Edmund Barton had been forced to close invitations for the later formal Commonwealth functions, despite still receiving between 1,200 and 1,500 applications daily. 97 The Age also published a full list of all those invited to take part in the various ceremonies throughout the whole week. This list took up virtually all of page 10 of the 6 May 1901 issue, covering not only thousands of people from all six states, but representatives from Fiji, Canada, India and Ceylon, and Cape Colony. 98 The morning after my arrival, most of the bushfire smoke had dissipated and the same crisp late summer air greeted my commencement of the parade route on the Princes 92 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 8. 93 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 11. “His Royal Highness will hold a levee at Government House, Melbourne today at 11am.” Brian M Fagan: The Adventure of Archaeology, 1985, The National Geographic Society, Washington, pp. 81, 173. “The turning point came in 1860 when Ling Victor Emanuel II ascended the Italian throne. Fired by the glorious Roman past, he encouraged excavations at Pompeii as a matter of national prestige.” The unification of Italy gave added impetus to the excavation of not only Pompeii. In March 1900, Arthur Evans began his excavations of Knossos in Crete. Just as the Greek war of independence of 1821-1830 expanded classical studies and the concepts of democracy that had arisen in the American and French Revolutions, so the later unification of Italy gave inspiration to a later generation of Latin scholars. 94 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 9. 95 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 96 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 7. This page provides multiple, and rather confusing, guides for most of the various marches and supplementary events, including the viewing of the evening illuminations. All these cover much the same city blocks but in a variety of orders. 97 The Age: 1 May 1901, p. 8. 98 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 10. 169 Bridge where St Kilda Road becomes Swanston Street. 99 This was the point where the march changed from a journey from the Vice-Regal landing at St Kilda to a celebratory parade through the city, so this was the point where the first of the city arches was located. 100 The length and timing of the march appeared planned to give maximum coverage for all the participants while remaining short enough for both the marchers’ physical exertion and no doubt the viewers’ patience. The Melbourne march travelled a total distance of a little under three miles or around five kilometres. At an average walking pace of six kilometres per hour, this would have given a marching time of under one hour. However, as with the parade in Sydney the actual time was a little longer than this, needing to accommodate the expected participant length of two thousand yards, a little less than two kilometres. The massive size of the parade can be imaged by the number of marchers taking up over one third of the march distance through the city at any one time. 101 The first arch passed under as the Federation Parade entered the Melbourne was the Municipal Arch, a structure obviously meant to be an impressive introduction to the march and the city. 102 As was the case with the Commonwealth Arch in Sydney, the primary structure in Melbourne was very traditional, classical and sited in the most significant location in the city, in this case, the southern end of Princes Bridge. As also with the arch in Sydney, the intention was to replicate the Arc de Triomphe in Paris, and the similarity between the two arches was striking. Both were of impressive size of course, with the Municipal Arch’s width of 27m slightly larger than the Commonwealth Arch’s 21m, and with heights of 18m and 15m respectively. 103 Both also reflected an assumed classical ideal in eschewing colour and relying upon a stark whiteness and the complexity of the mouldings and the structure itself to provide a suitably ornate façade. 104 The symbolism of the included motifs, although described by The Age as 99 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 14. 100 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 6. The initial welcoming of the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York by Governor General Lord Hopetoun and Lieutenant Governor Sir John Madden occurred at 1:50pm at St Kilda Pier with a twenty one gun salute, followed by a 2:00pm start to the parade. The vice-regal party formally arrival at Princes Bridge at 2:30pm and while the royal party then continued into the city for the principal public parade, the Governor General retired to Government House in preparation for the evening’s events. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 16. 101 The Age: 6 May 1901, pp. 8-10. Numbers can be gauged by the fact that the list of all participants took up a full page of small print in The Age. There were also seven hundred constables and twelve thousand soldiers on duty to control the crowds. 102 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 15. 103 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, pp. 42, 70. 104 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 10. 170 “perfect in conception”, and including “nothing superfluous, nothing without meaning”, 105 appears to have been rather predictable, with the usual flags, crown and lion’s head to represent empire, and ship’s prow symbolising both the location over the Yarra River and the Duke of Cornwall’s naval connections. The designer, Harold Desbrowe-Annear, was well known in Melbourne as an architect in the Classical Beaux-Arts tradition, having been responsible for the well-known Springthorpe Memorial in Kew Cemetery a year earlier. 106 As with most of the arches in both Sydney and Melbourne, the often ornate symbolism behind their decoration would have been of considerable importance during their planning and construction. The degree to which this symbolism was then evident, either consciously or even subliminally, when viewed by the participants and spectators during the actual parades themselves, would have been a moot point. In the case of this particular arch, the degree of planning did not extend to agreement on a formal nomenclature. The entrance arch was referred to at various times as the Federation Arch, the Municipal Arch and Corporation Arch, 107 reflecting both civic and commercial obligations to the city. If some of the obscure imagery was lost on the populace, the two tablets over the side arches made the sentiment clear; “The city hails her Monarch’s Son” and “The Wattle Greets the Rose of York”. 108 Certainly the most notable feature was the motto emblazoned across the top of the arch: Vires Acquirit Eundo (She gains strength as she goes). This quotation from Virgil’s Aeneid was taken from the coat of arms of Melbourne, although apparently the words would not be formally adopted by the city until 1940. 109 This most classical arch also reflected the most up to date technology in construction, with a modern rubberoid solution covering, rather than relying on traditional plaster. 110 This material was exploited by Desbrowe-Annear engineer Adrian Charles Mountain since, unlike the Sydney Arch commemorating the actual Federation of the nation, this structure was intended to survive for a year or more as a reminder of Melbourne’s role 105 The Age: 7 May 1901, supplement. 106 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, pp. 100, 101. 107 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 10. 108 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 10. 109 The Age: 1 September 1936, p. 10. “The Melbourne City Council yesterday authorised an application to the College of Arms, London for the registration, at an estimated cost of £150, of the coat of arms of the city, in accordance with the following description, conforming with heraldic standards. The motto (Vires Acquirit, Eundo) on a scroll of three folds tinted crimson.” 110 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 71. 171 in the celebrations. 111 Hence, the massive width was therefore intended to accommodate the daily traffic requirements across Princes Bridge. The drawing in The Argus prior to the parade shows the crowd of everyday horse drawn traffic that could easily pass under the structure. 112 The drawing also includes the long colonnade; the “Belvedere” of five pairs of temporary columns placed over the bridge and the two Railway Towers 113 adjacent to Flinders Street. 114 As with the arch, these columns were meant to remain as a semi-permanent fixture for some time. However, a strong wind exactly one month after the celebrations knocked over some of the columns, requiring the others to be removed for safety. 115 In 2001, to commemorate this very temporary original arch, the Melbourne City Council decided to erect another temporary monument on the same site for the Centenary of Federation celebrations. The two hundred thousand dollar Peter Sandow designed edifice shown in the Photograph Booklet was quickly christened the “pick-up sticks”, 116 perhaps indicative of the fact that the architect’s proposal for “the structure to symbolise Melbourne’s chaotic intermingling of cultures”, 117 failed to communicate this ideal to the general population. Upon eventual dismantling after the Centenary celebrations, the coloured metal tubes were purchased by Hume Council, with local councillor Jack Ogilvie’s stated preference being, to have the sticks cut up and distributed to school children as a souvenir. 118 As with earlier discussions over the suitability of a permanent Federation Arch in Sydney, the fate of both the original Commonwealth Arch and its 2001 centenary replacement seems to embody a particularly Australian attitude to commemoration and cultural memory. The pile of coloured pipes consigned to a council yard in outer Melbourne had been pre-empted a year earlier with the large welcoming rings for the 111 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 71. 112 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 7. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 17. 113 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 19. 114 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 7 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 20. 115 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 73. 116 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 17. 117 Sunbury Leader News: 19 February 2008 online database. An Arch Blunder, Sticky end for Federation Arch of triumph. I suspect that for most Melburnians who actually live within migrant communities, their cultures may seem to be intermingling, but probably do not feel nearly as chaotic as they would appear to a “creative” outsider. 118 Herald Sun: 21 February 2008 online database. This certainly strikes one as a very tangible form of commemoration for future generations, and a far better alternative than their current fate languishing and fading away in the Council’s Sunbury storage yard. 172 2000 Sydney Olympics. 119 Although at least not broken apart, this culturally significant icon of “The Best Olympic Games Ever” 120 now adorns the entry to the St Peters Recycling Depot (adjacent to the former Tempe Tip) in the industrial heart of the harbour city. 121 At least recognition of the significance of its architectural heritage has resulted in the Princes Bridge itself being recently restored, 122 although at the time of the Federation parade, this would have been quite a new structure, having only been completed in 1888. 123 The well-known accompanying Flinders Street Railway station entrance was also about to be upgraded at the time of the march. What has remained the primary transport junction of Melbourne, the intersection of Flinders and Swanston Streets, then as now, encapsulated much of Melbourne, and even Australian society. On the south eastern corner stands the major entry to the expanding public transport hub of the city, with the lighter gauge trams terminating noisily out the front. 124 On the adjacent corner stands Young and Jackson’s, one of the best known hotels in the city, although now without the protective awning that would no doubt have caused physical damage to modern high delivery trucks and vans. Opposite, on the north west corner, rests St Paul’s cathedral, still the principal establishment church of the city, now facing Federation Square, a conscious, and one might say self-conscious, attempt to create an aura of the “modern” in the city. Looking back from Federation Square across to the spires of St Paul’s Cathedral, the pre-eminence of the Christian Church and its influence one hundred years ago is again apparent. 125 As with the march in Sydney, there would not have been a conscious decision to pass as many churches and places of worship as possible. It was just that churches held such a central position in the society that their location safeguarded so many of the significant sites in the cities. 126 St Paul’s was also indicative of the boom and bust nature of Melbourne’s growth during the first half a century of its existence. 127 119 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 18. 120 Australian Broadcasting Commission Coverage of the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games online database. 121 Marrickville Council: St Peters – Tempe Local Area Traffic Management Scheme online database. 122 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 16. 123 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 13. 124 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 20. 125 UBD Australia: UBD Melbourne Street Map 2008, map 2. Even on a map, the mass of St Pauls, Flinders’ Street Station and Federation Square are evident. Towers such as the ANZ and Sofitel on the top of Collins Street may dominate vertically, but the more public sites’ footprints still control the ground. 126 Photograph Booklet vol.2, pp. 29, 31. 127 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 21. 173 The site of the first official Anglican Church service in Melbourne in 1836, St Paul’s was designed in 1878 by architect William Butterfield, in absentia, in England. 128 The impressive Gothic Revival exterior and luxurious tiled and stained glass interior by London’s Clayton and Bell were all planned on the other side of the world and constructed during the height of the boom of the 1880s. However, by the time of its consecration in 1891 the good times were over, and it would take another forty years before the two front spires and the substantial main Moorhouse spire could afford to be erected. 129 As mentioned, these were then faced with the same Sydney Hawkesbury sandstone that would later be used to complete Sydney’s St Mary’s Cathedral spires in time for the Centenary of Federation. 130 As previously mentioned, there seemed to have been many adapted overseas architectural designs at the time, no doubt intended to keep pace with the rapid rate of city expansion. The current Flinders Street Railway Station that has long been such a focal point for the city had been planned in 1899, but was not completed until 1910, well after the Federation celebrations. Although partially constructed by James W Fawcett, the designer of the two Railway Towers, one of Melbourne’s urban myths is that the original design was actually intended for the Bombay Railway Station, but got mixed up in the post. 131 This is perhaps explained by, to borrow the words of Marc Fiddian, “the architectural features designed by Fawcett and Ashworth that had convinced the judges were the non-angular concept for the main corner entrance and the building’s striking resemblance to the Taj Mahal.” 132 The fourth corner of the intersection provides the most interesting interpretation of the new Melbourne, as distinct from the old. At the time of Federation, this eastern side of Swanston Street between the River Yarra and Flinders Street was largely open to the sky. Photographs of the time show the suburban rail lines to the eastern suburbs passing 128 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 80. “The architect, William Butterfield, who was a gothic and Early English enthusiast and had built Keble College Oxford, never visited Australia.” The adoption of his design was no doubt aided by the cathedral being built on the flat plain of central Melbourne, thus not requiring elevations to accommodate variations in slope. 129 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 80. 130 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 81. 131 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 13. 132 Marc Fiddian: Flinders St Station – Melbourne’s Taj Mahal, 2003, Galaxy Print, Melbourne, Australia. W H Newnham: Melbourne Sketchbook, p. 36. “Plans were delayed with the bursting of the land boom, but by 1900 the ‘respectable square building of yellow brick’, a fruit market, was pulled down to make way for the station in French Renaissance style.” 174 under the roadway and then out into the open shunting yards. 133 Alongside this was the riverbank of the Yarra with the lawns and pathways that still exist today, while behind the Yarra foreshores stood the old Princes Bridge Railway Station. 134 Swanston Street, effectively the roadway overpass over the railway, did contain some structures on the eastern side in 1901. There were tea shops and a refreshment room to cater to the needs of the travelling public in an era less frenetic than today. These suburban railway refreshment rooms and bars still existed until the 1960s, particularly at large stations where travellers would need to wait for connecting trains and trams to complete their journeys. 135 In Melbourne, the open rail track and yards between the refreshment rooms and the river had been considered a visual blight from the beginning. 136 However, the fact that proposals dating back to the 1860s and 1920s had come to nothing would indicate that, at the time, people were happy to have such a wide expansive vision of their modern transport network. That the area had only been covered by two supposedly hideous Gas and Fuel Corporation Towers from the 1960s and the currently questionable Federation Square precinct indicates a city still not sure what to do with the site. 137 While a frenetic zone that no doubt appeals to the sensibilities of the modern young, the initial website entry for Federation Square centres on its “alleged ugliness”, with a randomly selected 64% of Melburnians agreeing that, “yes, it is an eyesore”. 138 This all seems to confirm that the city’s ability to create civic spectacle has done anything but improve over the course of the last century. As the photographs show, there also appears to be little within the precinct that actually relates back to the Federation of the nation itself, in either intentional symbolism or graphic text. 139 133 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 21. 134 Robert Lee: The Railways of Victoria 1854-2004, pp. 20, 192. Although apparently long existing on the point of closure, this elegant but isolated anachronism was finally demolished in the 1980s for the new underground loop. 135 Anne-Maree Whitaker: Pictorial History of Marrickville, 2006, Kingsclear Books, Sydney, p. 60. There were, for example, refreshment rooms above the very industrial Sydenham and Newtown Railway Stations in Sydney during the 1950s and 1960s, where a working class matron in her best hat and gloves could take a glass of wine or a cup of espresso coffee while waiting for a connecting train. This was the era when the inner suburbs of both cities were assimilating large numbers of Southern European migrants and such institutions often reflected this growing multiculturalism. 136 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 15. 137 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 15. 138 Bates Smart Architects: Federation Square, Melbourne online database. 139 As with the old coastal houses in Sydney, the result of allowing a four hundred metre by one hundred metre square of railway yards taking up such a prime and potentially attractive site alongside the Yarra River harks back to an era that appears to be at variance with the sensibilities of today. While there were valid reasons in the past as to why certain locations were not fashionable: sewerage outfalls, and the need for transport links close to the city centre; geographical sensibility still appears to remain questionable. 175 5. SETTLEMENT AND PLANNING No doubt as a result of being a consciously formally planned environment, the central city of Melbourne, even today, is defined by abrupt and noticeable boundaries. 140 The footstepper arriving from the south, north or east through parkland and open space, crosses over one road or one bridge and suddenly finds themselves in the middle of the bustling metropolis. Looking back towards Melbourne city from St Kilda Road, it does seem easy to appreciate the degree to which there would have been a strong sensation of formal entry into the civilising city in 1901. 141 Although the western side of the road is now filled with the Southbank redevelopments, the eastern grassy fields and the tree lined road still gives a very distinct sense of country parkland. Even institutions that exist on the periphery: the Trades Hall to the north in Carlton and St Patrick’s Cathedral on the eastern hill behind Parliament House, appear to be consciously sited on the edge of this very formalised space. Public transport routes themselves emphasise these boundaries, with both the recently constructed underground rail loop and the free city tram service marking out the Flinders Street, Spring Street, La Trobe Street and Spencer Street margins. The city of Sydney, by comparison, grew slowly over the course of a century, and as a result still dissipates gradually into the surrounding districts. Walking into the older settlement from the inner suburbs along Parramatta Road, Elizabeth Street or Oxford Street, the footstepper notices businesses and shops slowly growing denser, but it is difficult to determine just where the city begins. 142 Although partially surrounded by the harbour, there is a fluidity in the physical environment that could be said to reflect the political and cultural environment as well. That the huge department stores such as Mark Foy’s, Anthony Hordern’s and Grace Brothers have gradually found themselves Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 22. 140 The Argus: 10 August 1926, p. 16. Town-planning, Melbourne’s Urgent Needs. “City planning demands good citizenship from every point of view. We cannot say that the citizens of Melbourne possess sufficient civic pride…Melbourne, however, had outgrown its original plan.” 141 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 14. 142 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Melbourne Compact Street Directory 1993, maps 1, 2. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 1988, maps 169, 170. The two directories that I have used for my location maps clearly indicate this contrast. Melbourne’s CBD is patently obvious, while one could ask where Sydney’s actually does begin. Coming in from the west locations such as the University of Sydney, the City Road junction and Railway Square all indicate that one is entering the CBD of the city, but the process builds over a distance of more than a kilometre. Entering from the east, the walker also experiences a gradualness from Kings Cross and Taylor Square to Hyde Park. 176 isolated beyond the new fringes as the perceived boundaries of the city imperceptibly change over the course of decades clearly demonstrates this. Also unlike Sydney with its rocky sandstone hills and valleys, the site of Melbourne was a floodplain, or series of floodplains on the side of the Yarra River, contained by milder rises. Apparently the aboriginal term “Yarra Yarra” meant “flowing flowing”; a nomenclature that many modern Melburnians would probably consider singularly inappropriate. 143 Eastwood’s 1840 map and Whittock’s 1854 sketch, both looking north across the city centre from the southern bank of the Yarra demonstrate the flatness and balance either side of Swanston Street that would determine the route of the Federation parade. 144 The shallow gully and watercourse of the Townend Stream from Lake Cashmore down the middle of Elizabeth and Queen Streets flowed into the Yarra just above the point where the flowing fresh water river became tidal. This feature would continue to affect the geography of the city through to modern times, with the construction of storm water drains unable to prevent flooding of the Central Business District in even 1891 prior to Federation, 145 and as recently as 1972. 146 In 1837 Robert Hoddle began to lay out the town in preparation for the sale of land, significantly, by altering Governor Darling’s original measurements for urban blocks that were being implemented throughout the towns and cities of the nation. Instead of 5 chains, or 330 feet (100.5m) for the grid, he adopted a 4¾ chains or 313 feet (95.5m) grid to allow for both wider 99 feet (30m) roads and 33 feet (10m) lanes. 147 Each block was thus divided by a central east west laneway system: the foundation of Melbourne’s “little” streets. 148 It is remarkable the degree of forward planning shown at the time by 143 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 114. 144 Jill Eastwood: Melbourne – The Growth of a Metropolis, 1983, Thomas Nelson Australia, Melbourne pp. 15, 29. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 24. 145 The Argus: 14 July 1891, pp. 5-6. The Flood in Melbourne, Further Loss of Life, Immense Destruction of Property, Thousands of Persons Homeless. The Argus of the day dedicated two whole pages to the disastrous flood that appeared in this case to have been caused by the rising of the Yarra River due to “phenomenal rainfall”, rather than by flooding of the old Elizabeth Street water course. 146 The Age: 2 September 2003 online database. Melbourne: city of woes. “Melbourne is not generally considered a city with a history of disasters, but James Norman found that Fire and Flood in the Heart of Melbourne, a photography exhibition opening on Friday, reveals the city has a formidable history of catastrophe. From the great floods of 1891 and flash flooding of the CBD as recently as 1972, to raging fires that reduced inner-city blocks to rubble, there are many stories of devastation.” Michael Cannon: Australia – a History in Photographs, p. 99. 147 Sheridan Morris: Melbourne Past and Present, 2008, Axiom Publishing, Adelaide, p. 13. 148 The Argus: 22 April 1936, p. 9. Widening ‘Little’ Streets. “The Lord Mayor Councillor A G Wales has revived the suggestion that the City Council should try to institute means of enforcing the gradual widening of Melbourne’s “little” streets.” As with Melbourne’s apparently enduring trams, the survival 177 administrators such as Governors Darling and Bourke and planners such as Robert Hoddle and his predecessor Robert Russell. Admittedly, they were starting with a clean slate, and with the lessons before them of both European cities and the half century of non-existent planning that had already resulted in the congestion of Sydney. While the choice of actual site would fate the city to the risk of future flood, in terms of planning, this gently undulating landform between rising hills meant that Darling’s civic ideals could be implemented by Hoddle without the Sydney restrictions of either cliff or gully, or the embedded tradition of disorganised and uncontrolled expansion. 149 While both Melbourne and Sydney now present themselves as the two principal and timeless elder cities of the nation, at the time of Federation this would not have been the case. Sydney was already well over a century old, with the gradualness of change that had seen original buildings demolished and replaced with newer modern late Victorian structures. 150 Melbourne, while then as large as Sydney in terms of population with 520,400 people resident in 1901, 151 was less than half as old, with the gold boom era offices and city residences having been erected directly onto virgin sites. 152 This open flat spaciousness therefore affected the arches that were constructed for the May 1901 parade. While size limitations would have been set by financial considerations, the physical construction techniques of the time, and the need to accommodate a certain width of carriage and parade column, I suspect that the feel and sensation provided by the spectacle of the passing parade would have been quite different to that experienced in Sydney. The Municipal Arch on the entrance to Princes Bridge was a case in point. The photographs at the time show a large and impressive structure that spans the entire of the Little Streets and Laneways has often been rather touch and go. The Argus: 27 April 1940, p. 1. Little Streets Stay. “In view of a report by Mr H S Wootton, the town clerk, on similar work in Sydney, the City Council is unlikely to widen “little” streets from 33 feet to 66 feet, as suggested by Councillor H E Morton.” It would appear that the Little Streets are finally safe. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 25. 149 Jill Eastwood: Melbourne – The Growth of a Metropolis, pp. 16-30. 150 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture. Note the degree to which the first 50 pages are restricted to Sydney and Hobart structures, and then from the mid- Victorian era there is an explosion of new buildings in the newly established Melbourne. 151 Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, p. 158. Figures tend to vary, perhaps expressing the ideals and expectations of researchers; but the initial Commonwealth Census lists Sydney with 538,800 residents and Melbourne with 520,000. Whether one city or the other was fractionally larger seems rather irrelevant, compared with the far more significant distinction of age of the city. One city was already well over a century old, with its initial half century being of slow disorganised expansion, while the other was less than half that age, and more importantly had been formally planned from the beginning. 152 Henry Gyles Turner: A History of the Colony of Victoria, 1904, Longmans, Green and Co, London chapt. 9. Note particularly, pp. 262, 263 where the disastrous results of land speculation in particular is mentioned. 178 roadway with the grandiose form of a Roman Triumphal Arch. 153 The sensation is one of openness to the sky; quite different to that imposed by the more closed narrow confines of Sydney’s streets. The principal north south street of the settlement of Melbourne, and the one first entered by the Federation parade, was Swanston Street, named after Captain Charles Swanston; East India Company man, banker and one of the founders of the original Port Phillip Association. The economist S J Butlin described him as “one of the score or so of commercial adventurers who had at least the illusion of controlling and directing Australian economic expansion in the period during which the emergence of a capitalistic economy was completed.” 154 Through boom and bust banking, Charles Swanston accumulated and then lost a fortune. He had gained a controlling interest in the Tasmanian Derwent Bank, and when in 1849 British investors withdrew their support, he was forced to “assign his personal estate for the benefit of his creditors.” 155 Like a Chinese Emperor on the point of being dethroned, Swanston was advised to take a long voyage, and died the next year on his way back from that other mythical land of promise, California. 156 The inevitable speculation that accompanied such rapid development had two detrimental effects: an overinflated financial boom in property construction, and this level of property construction running ahead of services. 157 These were not merely ethereal issues, but ones that affected the immediate welfare of the citizens. Graeme Davison dedicates an entire chapter to this boom and bust aspect of the decade leading up to Federation, comparing the150%-200% increase in the number of architects and builders with resulting rushed and shoddy construction. 158 Poor sanitation was as serious an issue as it was in Sydney, without the ‘advantage’ of a large harbour in which to directly dump human waste. Typhoid became a grim reality, although by 1910 it was reported in The Argus that “the number of cases in the metropolis at present is below the 153 Walking Melbourne: Federation Arches online database. Municipal Arch Princes Bridge 1901. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 17. 154 Bede Nairn: Captain Charles Swanston, Australian Dictionary of Biography vol.2, pp. 500-501. 155 The Argus; 14 November 1849, p. 2. Van Diemen’s Land. “John Walker Esq, late Chief City Commissioner of Hobart Town, has been elected Managing Director of the Derwent Bank in that city, in the room of (sic) Captain Swanston resigned.” 156 Bede Nairn: Captain Charles Swanston, Australian Dictionary of Biography vol.2, pp. 500-501. 157 DeborahTout-Smith: Melbourne – a City of Stories, 2008, Museum Victoria, Melbourne, p. 43. 158 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, pp. 72-78. Note the cartoon commenting on the ‘advantage’ of developers not bothering with decent footings when construction investment housing. 179 average.” 159 What this average actually was appeared not to be mentioned. 160 Interstaters in particular were only too happy assign to upstart Melbourne the nomenclature “Smelbourne”; as much a reflection of the general degradation of the Yarra River as poor sanitation itself. 161 The city continued to industrialise and tributaries such as the Maribyrnong River become even more polluted. As Davison declares; “by 1890 the stretch of river from Footscray with its ropewalk, sugar refinery, chemical and fertilizer works up stream to the abattoirs, tallow works and tanneries of Newmarket had become an open sewer.” 162 The risk of fire within the rapidly expanding city also proved to be a serious threat to urban citizens. In 1897 fire destroyed the city block between Flinders Street, Flinders Lane and Elizabeth and Swanston Streets, the very streetscape that would be passed by the parade less than three years later. The blaze in the early hours of Sunday 21 November began in Craig, Williamson & Thomas’s warehouse on the corner of Elizabeth and Flinders Street, and quickly spread to destroy virtually the whole block. 163 Even Young and Jackson’s Hotel was threatened, with the licensee having to roll his beer barrels across Swanston Street to find sanctuary in the porch of St Paul’s Cathedral. 164 By 6:00 am that morning, after a four hour battle, the two hundred attending firemen had the conflagration under control. It was noted that this was the first time that the early morning church trains had been packed; in this case with sightseers rather than the religious faithful. 165 The particular event was significant enough for it to be commented upon not only three years later in February 1900 when; “another serious fire occurred in Flinders Lane today, when [my] 159 The Argus: 8 March 1882, p. 9. Gordon Cheers: Australia Through Time, p. 98. Note the quote for 19 January 1889. “At least 400 people have died and hundreds more have fallen ill as Melbourne struggles to free itself from the grip of a devastating typhoid epidemic.” 160 The Argus: 16 April 1910, p. 16. The Argus: 6 May 1910, p. 7. One of the outbreaks of 1910, apparently through infected milk from a dairy, resulted in at least 11 deaths. 161 Perth Sunday Times: 31 March 1907, p. 3. 162 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 50. 163 The Argus: 22 November 1897, p. 6. “The Fire yesterday was on our side of “The Lane” and our warehouse is not damaged in any way.” The most notable mention of the fire in the press the day after was an advertisement by Lister Henry and Co, clothing and dry goods merchants, to the effect that they were still open for business. The Argus: 11 December 1897, p. 9. The eternally optimistic and advantageous nature of capitalism is seen with the purchase of salvage stock from a “great fire in the Cripplegate, London, on November 19. One of the purchasers is the firm of Messrs Brooks, McGlashan and McHarg, whose premises in Flinders Lane, Melbourne, were destroyed by the fire in that city on November 21.” Gordon Cheers: Australia Through Time, p. 132. 164 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 46. 165 Gordon Cheers: Australia Through Time, p. 60. “[It is] wholly for the convenience of those who…come into Sydney to church and get back home again to dinner.” Letter to The Sydney Morning Herald of all press outlets, commenting on, or gloating over the 1879 Sunday train timetable. 180 warehouse of Brooks, McGlashan and McHarg, at the west corner of Degraves Street, which was destroyed by fire in the great conflagration of November 1897, was again attacked”; 166 but even forty years later. “What happened in Flinders Street just forty years ago tomorrow,” with accompanying pictures of the inferno. 167 This would also have been one of the first instances of the newly constituted Metropolitan Fire Brigades Board dealing with such an emergency. Up until the 1887 and 1890 Brigade Amalgamation and Fire Brigade Acts, the fighting of fires was the responsibility of the various insurance companies that covered city buildings for such disasters. 168 There were apparently many instances of such private brigades arriving at a fire, only to discover that they did not have the insurance cover for the particular building in flames, and thus turning away and quietly going back home while the “foreign” structure burned to the ground. The newly established transport systems were also instrumental in directly serving Melbourne’s Federation celebrations. As was the case with the Federation parade in Sydney, the authorities had to accommodate a huge number of people intending to view a march of at least an hour’s duration through a relatively confined space. With an estimated 150,000 spectators within the five kilometres of the Central Business District of Melbourne, 169 transport to and from the event would have been critical. Certainly, a letter to the editor of The Argus from “A Country Cousin” expressed this concern. “How can country people arriving in Melbourne, say, at 10 o’clock am, reach the positions which they have secured in Collins street east?...Will you kindly let us country people know by what route we may reach our destinations?” 170 While people tend to arrive at such events in their own time and in a relatively ordered manner, clearing the city after the event would have been quite a different affair. This is even a major concern even today with similar events such as New Year’s Eve bringing a relative equivalent percentage of the population to the cities’ centres. 171 As is the case now, a century ago all available public transport facilities were brought to bear with 166 The Sydney Morning Herald: 24 February 1900, p. 10. 167 The Argus: 20 November 1937, p. 35. 168 Victorian Royal Commission 2009 Victorian Bushfires: Part 10 Introduction: Organisational Structure online database. “The Fire Brigades Act 1890 established the organisational structure of brigades that is still in effect today.” Power: Fire & Flood in the Heart of Melbourne, Victorian Government exhibition, September 2003. 169 Australian Broadcasting Commission: Australia’s Centenary of Federation website, 2000, ABC 100 years, Sydney. 170 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 11. 171 The Sydney Morning Herald: 31 December 2011 online database. 181 varying degrees of success. Trains were timetabled to run through the night over the course of the week, including country trains from as a far afield as Ballarat, Bendigo and Geelong. These included trains the next morning to return revellers back home. 172 For those living in closer proximity, tram timetables were also adapted to take into account not only those wishing to exit the city after the day-time parade, but also those who wanted to come back to view the night-time illuminations. 173 There was even the “thoughtful proposal of the mayor of Richmond (Councillor J S Willis) to provide vehicles to take the aged poor to see the city illuminations.” However, it appears that few of those targeted took advantage of the offer. 174 Perhaps older people would not have wanted to go to the trouble of coming into the city anyway, knowing they would still have to walk to the display once they had alighted from the tram. On the other hand, many elderly appeared happy to do their best to view the day time proceedings. “Several veterans were wheeled in bath chairs to take a look at the preparations, and others tugged their little ones behind them.” 175 Whether the march participants themselves, not to mention the spectators had to pay full fare on the rail network is not mentioned. However, demonstrating a notable lack of inter-colonial largesse, the visiting City of Sydney aldermen were provided with a rail car for the trip to Albury. From there, however, they had to pay their own way to Melbourne, with the Mayor of Sydney, Dr Graham describing this treatment as “very shabby”. 176 Rather amusing for us today, although no doubt not at the time, was the religious objection to the Sunday trains necessary for the transport of citizens and participants into the city the day prior to the main Federation parade on Monday 6 May 1901. “The Reverend J Meiklejohn called attention to the announcement by the Government that cadets from the country would be brought to Melbourne for the Ducal celebrations by trains running on Sunday next. This, he said, would be a desecration of the Sabbath, which they [presbytery members] should protest about.” 177 The Reverend John Meiklejohn MA was an influential minister from the Dorcas Street, South Melbourne Presbyterian Church who, as Moderator General, had been responsible for the re-uniting 172 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 173 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 174 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 8. 175 The Argus: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 176 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 177 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 182 of the disparate and divided colonial Presbyterian denominations. 178 While apparently not a fundamentalist, the comment by a staunch member of the church establishment indicates not only the influence that ministers of religion felt that they had in society, but also the literal interpretation of the Sabbath that would hold sway in many parts of Australian society until the 1970s. 179 However, it was recognised that the much vaunted separation of church and state in the new Australian Constitution, 180 would in practice need to apply as just much to public transport. While the notion of the boring Melbourne Sunday has become entrenched in folklore, it is worth remembering that such restrictions tend to be cyclical rather than a permanent fixture from the past. 181 It was only in July 1883 that Sunday trading was outlawed under pressure from Sabbatarians. 182 Through institutions such as The Bulletin in Sydney there remained subtle insurrections against the dictates of the prelates. The Queenslander of 1895 mentioned an amusing, if apocryphal incident where a country vicar’s garden was being ravaged by sparrows on the Sabbath. When his wife ordered the gardener to discharge his gun at them the annoyed vicar penned her a note stating. “Six days in seven, if you please, shoot the birds that eat your peas; but on the seventh aim your arrows at sin and Satan – not at sparrows.” 183 Once in Melbourne itself, the large number of participants needed to be accommodated. Distinguished visitors were lodged at the Grand Hotel (now the Windsor on Spring Street) while the military and country display contingents were camped at Royal Park and Flemington. “Well known military identities such as Colonel Tom Price, Major General George French and Major General Gordon were placed in charge of proceedings, and the men were kept occupied with parades and drills between periods of leave.” 184 178 Prentis: Fathers and Brethren, moderators of the General Assembly of the Presbyterian Church of Australia 1901-1977 online database. 179 Ian Tyrrell: From the culture of wowserism to the culture of healthism, University of NSW online database. 180 Constitutional Centenary Foundation: The Australian Constitution, p. 113. “The Commonwealth shall not make any law for establishing any religion…” 181 The Argus: 2 April 1951, p. 6. Boring. “The practice of sending young sailors, soldiers and airmen in Melbourne for over the weekends when they can do nothing and go nowhere seems to be a deliberate plan to make their leave as boring and fruitless as possible.” 182 The Argus: 28 April 1883, p. 8. “Sabbatarians win the day.” 183 The Queenslander: 21 September 1895, p. 5. 184 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 183 6. MARVELLOUS MELBOURNE Upon entering the city of Melbourne, the Federation parade would have passed St Paul’s Cathedral and the current location of City Square. It is here that the modern footstepper passes three significant works of art that appear to reflect the changing of attitudes towards Australian’s relationship with their land and community. Alongside St Paul’s is the Flinders Memorial by the sculptor Web Gilbert. 185 Although not unveiled until 7 November 1925, this effigy is reflective of an era when the nation was still being geographically, and certainly psychologically, opened up by Europeans. 186 As Gascoigne mentions, the popularity of Matthew Flinders reflected his position as the embodiment of those scientific advances that had led to both the settlement and advancement of the Australian nation. 187 Flinders is then followed by City Square and the Burke and Wills Memorial by sculptor Charles Summers. 188 In Collins Street standeth a statue tall – A statue tall on a pillar of stone, Telling its story, to great and small, Of the dust reclaimed from the sand waste lone. Weary and wasted, and worn and wan, Feeble and faint, and languid and low, He lay on the desert a dying man, Who has gone, my friends, where we all must go. As Adam Lindsay Gordon’s poem indicates, this statue group was originally placed at the top of Collins Street at the Russell Street intersection, then transplanted in 1886 to what became Gordon Reserve adjacent to Parliament House to make way for the 185 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 27. 186 The Argus: 25 September 1923. Site for Matthew Flinders’ Statue. Apparently there was some kind of weird competition whereby the city that could erect the most pleasing monument to the explorer would receive his papers from his grandson. Sydney won… Public Art Around the World: Matthew Flinders online database. 187 John Gascoigne: The Enlightenment and the Origins of European Australia, p. 98. The work is not only more formal than the statue of the navigator outside the Sydney Mitchell Library, but is also without the most recent addition of Flinders’ noble companion. Matthew Flinders online database. Trim the Cat. Melbourne’s statue may feature Flinders in his boat, but Sydney’s representation includes a separate casting of Trim, Flinders’ cat. 188 Adam Lindsay Gordon: Selected Poems of Adam Lindsay Gordon, 1979, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, p. 7. Gone! Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 27. 184 expansion of Melbourne’s tramway; prior to its being moved yet again. 189 At the time of the parade in 1901, this statue was still at Gordon Reserve although further moves to accommodate tramlines and even underground railway stations would imply a work of art not held in the highest esteem by the general population, or at least the local council authorities. 190 To be fair, even Sydney’s Queen Victoria has been moved, or at least rotated on more than one occasion, while her son’s constant shifting around the entrance to Sydney’s Government House to accommodate the Cahill Expressway and Harbour Tunnel has hardly raised an eyebrow in that city. 191 Gordon, writing his poem in 1867, was invoking an heroic interpretation of the disastrous 1860-1861Burke and Wills expedition, even though at this early juncture, the Royal Commission had already placed a good part of the blame for the death of the explorers on the foolish ‘death-or-glory’ Robert O’Hara Burke. 192 While there still appeared to be a sense that the tragedy was the result of bad luck, 193 by the time of Federation attitudes towards the previous forty years of colonial experience had begun to change. There was already a divide between the city and the bush, with Australia now one of the most urbanised nations in the world. However, writers such as Paterson and Lawson continued with their preoccupation with the bush although as the new century advanced, poets such as Kenneth Slessor, writers like C J Dennis and painters such as Sali Herman would discover and even glory in the reality of city life. 194 189 The Argus: December 1928, p. 3. W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 206. These later moves have taken place recently, since Newnham mentions the statue still being at the Spring Street intersection in 1956. 190 The Argus: 30 January 1926, p. 7. Burke and Wills Monument Removal to Original Site. Certainly some people were concerned over the constant moving of the memorial. ”Mr Tom Roberts suggestion that the Burke and Wills monument should be restored to its original position on the Collins Street must appeal to all who are familiar with the history of the ill-starred expedition, which was closely associated with early Melbourne.” 191 The Argus: 1 December 1938, p. 3. As an aside, it is interesting to note that some people’s opinions of the quality of Melbourne’s work would have placed them under a similar constant threat to that suffered by the statue of Henry Parkes in Sydney’s Centennial Park. “If a few of the people whom, within the last few days, I have seen embalmed in stone and bronze could visit corporeally these port-mortem tributes, I am afraid that there would be a sharp rise in the incidence of vandalism.” However, I doubt that the fate suffered by that of Parkes was a result of artistic criticism. 192 The Sydney Morning Herald: 26 February 1862, p. 2. Wilde et al: The Oxford Companion to Australian Literature 1994, p. 133. 193 The Argus: 2 August 1913, p. 21. 194 The Bulletin poets such as Paterson and Lawson still tended to view the city and its inhabitants as either sad, disreputable and stunted by their life experience, or as figures of light hearted amusement. “Would you make it a tea-garden and on Sundays have a band, where the ‘blokes’ might take their ‘donahs’, with a ‘public’ close at hand.” Andrew Barton Paterson: The Collected Verse of A B Paterson, p. 79. Even C J Dennis’ “Bloke” only finds true peace and fulfilment once he moves into the rural idyll of outer suburbia. “Then, in a blessed ‘eap, ole Forchin lands a missus an’ a farm fair in me ‘ands.” Clarence James Dennis: Selected Verse of C J Dennis, 1975, Angus & Roberson, Sydney, p. 33. 185 Needless to say, the Victorian Government had voted £5,000 towards the cost of the memorial in 1864, 195 and sculptor Charles Summers completed the work not only “modelling the figures but built a furnace and himself cast them in bronze. The standing figure of Burke, 13 feet in height [4 metres], was cast in one operation.” 196 Summers himself appeared to embody a rather transient attitude towards Australia. Born in Somerset in 1827 and trained at the Royal Academy, the young sculptor moved to Australia in 1852 as treatment for his poor health. After various jobs and commissions, he opened a studio in Collins Street, where he was able to produce the Burke and Wills Memorial. By 1867, he had left to return to England. After working in Rome, he returned to Victoria to complete a commission comprising statues of Queen Victoria, but died in 1878 in Paris on his way back to England. 197 While contributing to the culture of the colony, Charles Summers appeared to have considered himself primarily British, and in practice an international artist who went wherever the commissions and the money took him. 198 Although hard to tell now, the next block along Swanston Street, City Square held Melbourne’s own Queen Victoria Building, 199 an apparently attractive Victorian pile of shops and administration offices. 200 As one of the many 1960s attempts to open and beautify the city, this was demolished in 1968 and converted to an open space linked to shops and a graffiti wall. 201 Memory of the previous 1890s building seems to be well hidden. The failings of the new precinct brought about a further demolishing of half the space in 1981and its replacement with a non-descript modern structure. Notably, the National Trust guide Walking Melbourne does not include an image of either the original Queen Victoria Building, or the interim space that existed for twenty years, nor 195 W H Newnham: Melbourne – The Biography of a City, pp. 206, 207. 196 The Australian News for Home Readers: 25 October 1864, p. 4. Casting of the bronze statue for the Burke and Wills monument. “…this being, we believe, the first attempt made to cast a massive bronze statue in Australia. At any rate nothing equal in weight or magnitude had hitherto been attempted in statuary by any practical artist in Victoria.” 197 Jill Eastwood: Charles Summers (1825-1878), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 198 As mentioned, it is rather ironic that this same attitude of primary loyalty to another place was one of the many criticisms levelled at the Chinese at this time. 199 W H Newnham: Melbourne – The Biography of a City, p. 172. 200 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 63. 201 Jeff and Jill Sparrow: Radical Melbourne, vol.2, 2004, The Vulgar Press, Melbourne, p. 124. Some attempts to conserve what remained in the block were led by the Victorian Branch of the Builders Labourers Federation. Although generally less successfully than their more radical NSW comrades, builder’s labourer Dave Kerin summed up their attitude; “We were out there building these concrete boxes and you just felt like a dill. You looked across the road and saw a building with some character with design features that we didn’t have the skills to make.” Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 29. 186 even the current City Square space itself. 202 This area that is, by its nomenclature and its location, no doubt intended to be the public centre of the city, appears to be generally passed over by local Melburnians. 203 The next site passed, or more correctly, bypassed by the footstepper is the Melbourne Town Hall. While Melbourne’s streets are far wider than Sydney’s, her Town Hall is sited close to the edge of Swanston Street; seeming to almost bend over the street from the high side of the road. 204 Although the parade turned into Collins Street, spectators on the balcony of the Town Hall would still have been afforded an intimate view of the procession as it passed under the King’s Arch. 205 Being so representative of the tenor of the new monarchy freed from the restrictive late Victorian era, this arch, like King Edward VII himself, 206 gloried in its excess; “ostentatiously colourful, covered in ‘cardinal’ and old gold velveteen, which was ‘thickly broken into panels with gilt mouldings’, with ‘diagonal silk cord forming diaper work’.” 207 Although appearing in photographs, to be extremely attractive and intricate, with its main 18 metre arch and smaller side arches filling the width of Swanston Street, the cost was only £560. 208 This was considerably less than many of the other more formal and perhaps less inspiring efforts and only a small part of the £100,000 that was allocated by a special committee of the Victorian State Government to “ensure festivities befitting this historic event.” 209 The arch was also theoretically in a similar position to that of the Melbourne Arch in Sydney, in that consciously or accidentally it guided the parade into by-passing the Town Hall by turning it away, this time up the slope of Collins Street. However, I doubt there would have been the same sense of isolation caused by the larger space in front of Sydney’s Town Hall. While there was little discussion on the route of this presentation parade, the later route for the march to the opening of Parliament had been under intense scrutiny from the 202 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 31. 203 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 30. 204 W H Newnham: Melbourne – The Biography of a City, 1956, pp. 171, 172. Certainly for someone from interstate, the immediate butting of such a significant building directly onto the footpath does seem incongruous. 205 Photograph Booklet vol. 2, p. 29. 206 Photograph Booklet vol. 2, p. 28. 207 The Age: 7 May 1901 supplement. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 28. 208 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 75. 209 Westralian Worker: 15 June 1951, p. 6. With Committee Chairman M’Culloch as Minister for Works and Mayor of Melbourne, were added Mt T G Watson, Clerk and Secretary and Mt T Wollard as assistant and Col Hoad in charge of military arrangements. 187 beginning of the year. As The Argus reported as early as February, “So far Mr M’Culloch, the chairman of the committee, has received no reply from the Governor- General in regard to the suggested alteration in the route to be taken by the procession on the day of the opening of Parliament.” The issue appeared to have been conflict between the distance to be traversed by the official party and the number of significant arches that were going to be missed by following an abbreviated route. “Until the route has been finally determined, Mr M’Culloch states that it will be impossible to select the sites for the various arches to be erected by the Government.” 210 It was at this point that the parade would have seemed to face its greatest geographical obstacle. Although Melbourne is generally flatter than Sydney, the rise up Collins Street from the bedrock of the old Townend stream alignment would have been the most arduous part of the parade for both marchers and horses. However, as the principal business and “quality” street in Melbourne then, and now, it would have been obvious that the public parade would have followed this route. At the top of the climb at the Russell Street intersection, the march would have passed under the Queen’s Arch, named for the recently deceased Queen Victoria. 211 Images of this arch demonstrated again the considerable affection the community had for the old queen. 212 No doubt planned by designer G B H Austin prior to Victoria’s death, the location on the highest point of the route would have been regarded as significant, as would the immediate surrounds in the most traditional quarter of the city. 213 The arch itself embodied that very Victorian mix of the traditional and the modern scientific. The cupola on the top of the very non-classical curved arcs contained a statue of Her Majesty; while on the other hand, much was made of the fact that this structure was “highlighted by electric lights by night”. 214 Although none of the arches in either parade were dedicated specifically to scientific advancement, they all embodied in their design and presentation the most up to date construction and lighting, providing a contrast to their eclectic mix of classical and even the, then modern, art nouveau style. The march up Collins Street reflected the celebration of the moment, but the route taken also reflected very much the social structure of the times, and no doubt the aspirations 210 The Argus: 27 February 1901, p. 6. 211 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 32. 212 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 82. 213 The Argus: 27 August 1934. How Collins Street guards its wealth. Ostensibly commenting on the new Bank of NSW premises. 214 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 83. 188 of the organisers. The northern side of the street was then, as now, marked by a wide variety of Protestant Churches: Baptist, Presbyterian and the Independent, now Uniting Church. 215 As with Sydney, the march did not pick out religious centres with conscious intention, but rather, as the routes took the most significant pathways through the two cities, churches and cathedrals were automatically included. Their physical centrality no doubt mirrored an emotional and cultural significance in the lives of the communities. This streetscape had also begun to adapt to the Australian environment in ways that would be again lost half a century later. Photographs of Bourke Street and Collins Street at the time of Federation show awnings, recently planted trees and the heavy stone buildings with tall narrow windows that, even today, are the most effective for allowing in light while restricting heat absorption. 216 The adoption of Modernism during the 1950s and 1960s, notably at this eastern end of the city, has replaced much of this earlier acclimatisation with flat glass-plated sky-scrapers that offer limited protection to any non-air-conditioned occupants and no protection to pedestrians from either the hot sun or sudden rainstorms. 217 My footstepping crested the rise travelling east along Collins Street and I reached what was then known, and is still called, Collins Street’s Paris End. At this juncture, the intersection with Exhibition Street, was located the Chamber of Manufactures’ Column, erected by the Victorian Chamber of Manufacturers from the design of Messrs Usher and Kemp, Architects. 218 Although not an arch, but an imposing structure some 70’ tall, this was one of the few direct references to the business community in either of the two parades. With a high grouping of white plaster Corinthian columns on a pedestal of four lions, surmounted by an Atlas and globe, the accompanying drawing in The Argus presents the structure as physically imposing and quite attractive, with the newspaper claiming that, “though this trophy is not so pretentious as the great arches which have been erected, it is one of the most effective pieces of architecture commemorating the great event.” 219 The allusion to Nelson’s Column was mentioned earlier by The Argus, although the never to be denied capitalist imperative also showed through. “A jarring note was an advertisement of capital value of land and plant and other matter painted at 215 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, 1956, p. 183. Photograph Booklet vol.2, pp. 30, 32. 216 Photograph Booklet vol.2, pp. 32, 33. 217 Photograph Booklet vol.2, pp. 43, 45 et passim. 218 The Argus: 11 May 1901, p. 11. 219 The Argus: 11 May 1901, pp. 10-11. 189 the foot of the base.” 220 As with the Commonwealth Arch in Sydney and even the Corporation Arch on Swanston Street Bridge, it does seem a shame that this column was not produced in a permanent form for posterity. Certainly such a column could have been accommodated by road traffic, then and even now, easier than an expansive arch. At the time of Federation, the Paris allusion would surely have been apt, judging by both the style of the original buildings and the wealth represented by the medical offices, surgeons and physicians in Sands & McDougall’s Directory. 221 The northern side of the street was taken up with medical practitioners and the occasional club and private hotel, while the southern side had similarly serious professionals interspersed with artists, sculptors and masseuse. 222 The Melbourne Club, at number 36 had been founded in 1838 by a group of young blades: as W H Newham puts it, “harum-scarum members..., whose early escapades included removing signboards, closing stable doors after allowing the horses to bolt and occasionally breaking a window.” 223 After the club’s move to the current Collins Street premises in 1839, duels were still being arranged, even if they now consisted of blank cartridges and an unsuspecting challenger being hit with “jam on the forehead that slowly dribbled down his face”. 224 ANU House next door at number 52 was, at the time, occupied by the dentists Merrill and Aitken, who no doubt had far more to put up with than the current quieter academic and university chancellor’s offices. 225 On a more sedate level, office 10 Latrobe Parade, now changed to George Parade, between numbers 111 and 115 Collins Street, was occupied in 1901 by the artist Charles Web Gilbert. 226 Born in 1867 in Cockatoo, north of Melbourne, into a relatively poor family, Charles March Webster Gilbert lost his father soon after his birth but was an early and successful product of the newly established state school system. He was forced to leave even this education at the age of ten to earn his living and moved to Melbourne to eventually find work as a chef. It has been claimed that it was his modelling of ornaments for cakes that hinted at his ability at sculpture, and in 1888 he 220 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 10 221 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 12. 222 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, pp. 17, 18. 223 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 183. In other words, being as childishly obnoxious as most other young males out for a good time on the town. 224 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 184. 225 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 12. 226 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 31. 190 enrolled in the National Gallery drawing school. 227 Gilbert would go on to become one of the nation’s most famous war artists and sculptors of principal public figures, including Alfred Deakin, the writer Hugh McCrae and the well-known socialist Bernard O’Dowd. Gilbert’s work is still held at the Australian War Memorial in Canberra, 228 with his great work The Desert Mounted Corps taking pride of place on Anzac Parade. 229 Another feature of the medical district to be noted could be found along from the Melbourne Club: the large number of female medical practitioners. Miss Sarah McChesney and Mrs Florence Balderson were practising as dentists at number 28 Collins Street, and Miss E Bellotti was listed as a midwife at number 32. Miss Ethel Godfrey and Miss Alys Berry were also registered as dentists, one building along at number 34. 230 While there may well have been a natural inclination for women to prefer visiting a professional of the same gender, their advertised presence does, once again, contrast with the current view of Victorian and Edwardian society as overly restrictive towards women. One significant location that is still recognisable today is Alfred Place, between 98 and 102 Collins Street; the site of Robert Berry’s livery stables. 231 Although abutted by the modern glass Gilbert Court, the laneway and vacant communal space remains testament to a largely unrecognised, but vital facet of the era; the role of horses. 232 It is interesting how little literature of all eras has mentioned the role of horses in basic transportation. Just as with the previously mentioned significance of coal, no part of society a century ago could have functioned without the horse, and the massive infrastructure of stables, fodder, carts and wagons, not to mention the need to collect the waste they produced. Yet there is little indication of the degree to which people at the time of Federation were reliant upon the horse for transportation, food supply and the goods that needed to be taken from the trains and factories to the nearby shops for sale. J A Lyne at least recognised this with an photographic image of Kirk’s Horse Bazaar that existed at 227 G Sturgeon: Charles Marsh Web (Nash) Gilbert (1867-1925), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 228 Australian War Memorial: Artist Profiles, Web Gilbert online database. 229 G Sturgeon: Charles Marsh Web (Nash) Gilbert (1867-1925), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. It is a copy of this large bronze that can be seen on Canberra’s Anzac Parade today. 230 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 12. 231 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 12. 232 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 33. 191 number 412 Bourke Street, between Elizabeth and Queen Streets. 233 This, along with the Victoria Horse Bazaar at number 396 Bourke Street and Campbell and Sons horse and cattle agents at number 414, 234 signified that there was also a whole district around Hardware Lane dedicated to supplying the needs of horses and horse transport. 235 All that now remains of the saddlers, carriage builders, veterinarians and even racing clubs that dotted the city is the heritage named Kirk’s Lane running through to Little Bourke Street. 236 Such cultural amnesia often goes back only half a century in those areas that supplied this essential transport need. Horse stalls, hay lofts and wagon storage sheds also still existed in inner Sydney suburban districts such as Camdenville into the 1960s, reflecting the physical organisation that had been in place to provide horse power for the city. 237 7. SEATS OF POWER Turning into Spring Street, the march then entered the governmental precinct of the city. The eastern side of the road was, and still is, taken up by the massive edifice of Parliament House and the supplementary office buildings reaching back to Lansdowne Street and Fitzroy Gardens in East Melbourne. 238 While these offices have, as with those in Macquarie Street Sydney, changed their roles and been supplemented by modern workplaces, their ornate presence remains. 239 The original State Office building on Spring Street, next to the aptly named Treasury Gardens, was originally the Old Treasury Building. 240 This is now the Museum of Melbourne, having presided over this significant intersection at the top of Collins Street since 1862. 241 233 J A Lyne: Greater Melbourne, 1974, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, p. 55. 234 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 67. 235 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 5. 236 UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 1. 237 UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 379. Note Woodworth Close in the, then, bush land setting of Endeavour Hills, named for the early settler family that bred horses for the commercial trade in Melbourne. 238 UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 18. 239 National Trust of Australia: Walking Melbourne, p. 81. 240 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 62. 241 Museum Victoria: Melbourne City Museum online database. “Housed in the Old Treasury Building (Renaissance Revival style) and built between 1858 and 1862, the surrounding spaces were often used to celebrate events in the growing city. The classic design was proportioned 200 feet across and 70 feet in height. There are 3 main entrances and a portico in the centre… traces the history of Melbourne, from the early explorations of John Batman, through the Gold Rushes of Victoria and the city’s growth into a major city in only 30 years, to today.” Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 36. 192 The attractive heritage building complements the former Lands Building, now Department of Education in Treasury Place. 242 However, the intervening years, and growth in the size and requirements of the state government have resulted in additional buildings being constructed to the rear. The National Trust’s Walking Melbourne booklet appears to be almost obliged to advocate for the two ‘Lego-land’ piles that squat behind the palms of Gordon Reserve, appearing to offer a glimpse of Dubai on Spring Street. “Built in stages between 1966 and 1969, the austere, crisply detailed elevation and simple massing are a landmark of Modernism in Australia.” 243 In 1901, the eastern side of the street continued with medical offices and other similar high class establishments spilling over from Collins Street, although within the matrix of dentists, chemists and luncheon rooms, at 203 Spring Street stood Cong Hi, laundry, 244 no doubt providing an essential service to the parliamentarians and hotel visitors. 245 The elegant townhouse still preserved on the corner of Spring and Collins Streets has a particularly relevant history. 246 Although listed in Sands & McDougall’s Directory as number 16 Spring Street, this corner building forms part of a complex with number 9 Collins Street, and was constructed in 1877 for pastoralist and politician William Campbell. 247 At Federation, with the new Federal Government taking over the State Parliament House on a temporary basis, this building was purchased by the Commonwealth for Prime Ministerial offices, with Alfred Deakin a noteworthy resident during these years. As I observed when first arriving in Melbourne, it was the presence of trams running down the centre of wide thoroughfares that indicated more than anything that one was in the southern capital. 248 While other cities up-rooted their transport networks in the name of 1950s modernism, Melbourne retained this important transport system and 242 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 62. National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 82. 243 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 264. Although this guide features the Denton Corkhill Marshall designed structure on the other side of the road, behind the corner of Spring Street and Collins Street, the style mirrors the Barry Patten Yunken Freeman block facing it across the top of the Old Treasury Building. At least there is no attempt to imply that the structures “blend sympathetically into the environment.” 244 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 62. 245 Note again the lack of dry cleaning facilities even here, no doubt due to fire risk restrictions. 246 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 37. 247 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p19. 248 Photograph Booklet vol. 2, p. 37. 193 cultural icon. 249 The 1901 images of the commencement of Bourke and Collins Streets from the government offices in Spring Street show clearly the tramlines that still remain as the structure for this inner city transportation. Not only have the wide streets and relatively flat terrain benefited the retention of Melbourne’s tram network but also the enthusiastic support of the population and even hard-headed government authorities. The map of the tramway system as it was in 1974 demonstrates the advantage of long straight roads laid out under the Darling and Hoddle plans; 250 a logical and practical consideration when catering to the expectations of the travelling public. 251 Travelling north, the Federation parade would have passed Gordon Reserve, originally named Carpentaria Place. 252 This little triangular park is essentially a continuation of the Treasury Gardens to the south, and further isolates the classical Parliament House building from the modern offices. Planned as part of the Parliament House grounds, the reserve seems to have grown like topsy, gradually becoming bisected by roads and then tramlines. 253 Carpentaria Place was originally the chosen site of the Stanford Fountain, 254 constructed in 1870 by William Stanford, a prisoner from nearby Pentridge Goal. 255 249 Queensland Times: 6 April 1950, p. 1. Melbourne Trams May Be Replaced by Buses. Apparently it has been a close run thing at times, particularly in the early 1950s. Interestingly, there appears to be less press coverage of this issue in Melbourne papers, although The Argus: 28 April 1951, p. 7, makes much of the then Lord Mayor Sir James Disney wanting trams replaced by buses in Bourke Street, Swanston Street and “the costly Latrobe St line looks like being a failure too.” Mr L C Freeman, Road Passenger Service Operators’ Association secretary [in other words, a bus company organisation] yesterday defended buses in Smith and Nicholson Streets. “The Tramways Board has the best buses in Melbourne; its new ones are ‘beauties’.” Trams in Melbourne, online database. Former MMTB Chairman Sir Robert Risson argued that the cost of ripping up the concrete embedded tracks would have been prohibitive. 250 J A Lyne: Greater Melbourne, p. 28. 251 J A Lyne: Greater Melbourne, p. 29. Apparently, “it is usually reckoned that people are prepared to walk a quarter of a mile (400 metres) to a tram.” The map on p. 28 shows that while many inner city districts adhere to this expectation, many more outer suburban lines are now up to a kilometre from most residences. 252 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 48. According to the Australian Places with Dutch names online database, this reserve, along with the Gulf of Carpentaria, was named after Pieter de Carpentier, the earlier Governor General of the East Indies, and references the intended aim of the ill- fated Burke and Wills expedition, whose statue group still occupied the reserve. The Australian News for Home Readers: 25 October 1864, p. 4. One link to the temporary location of the Burke and Wills statue at this site was thus provided at the time. “Wills is presented sitting with his note- paper on his knee, engaged taking down the observations of Burke, who is standing erect earnestly looking towards the horizon – as if discerning the ocean beyond the coast line of the Gulf of Carpentaria – to the vicinity of which the two heroic comrades are supposed to have penetrated.” 253 UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 18. 254 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 38. 255 Victorian State Government: Gordon Reserve Statement of Significance, Victorian Heritage online database. 194 Trained as a stone mason, Stanford emigrated to Australia at fifteen years of age, and for whatever reason, simply could not keep himself out of trouble. After multiple charges of horse stealing and highway robbery, he was sentenced to twenty two years in Pentridge. 256 It was while in prison, that the still very young man’s artistic talent came to the notice of the prison governor. Stanford was trained under none other than Charles Summers, eventually submitting his own plans for a decorative fountain. The structure that now stands in Gordon Reserve was laboriously carved in bluestone from the prison’s quarry and completed in 1870. After many subsequent appeals, Stanford was eventually released the same year, although according to The Argus, still had the occasional relapse. 257 William Stanford eventually married and settled down in Windsor south of the Yarra River. Unfortunately, the four years of hand carving the unforgiving bluestone resulted in his early death from silicosis, at just forty three years of age in 1880. Viewed in 1889 as an addition to this beautification project, the statue of General Charles Gordon of Khartoum commemorates the life of the great Victorian hero who had been killed during the Siege of Khartoum in 1885. 258 At the time there was perhaps less uncertainty about the public adoration of a colonialist who sought to impose the will of the British Empire upon a nation that had been bankrupted through the stupidity of its own ruler and the connivance of the British and the French governments; 259 not to mention a single unmarried administrator and military officer whose primary recreational activity seems to have been rounding up and succouring young destitute boys. 260 What was apparently more a source of disquiet behind the imperial adoration of Gordon in places as far flung as Melbourne, Australia were concerns over the circumstances of Gordon’s death. At the time there was considerable more anguish throughout the Empire on the perceived abandonment of Gordon by the Gladstone Liberal Government in Britain than by the actions of the Sudanese rebel, the Mahdi, 256 Bede Nairn. Moore, Prout, Feely: William Walter Tyrell Stanford (1839-1880), Australian Dictionary of Biography, vol. 6. 257 The Argus: 14 April 1871, p. 5. Geelong Circuit Court, mentioned to be tried before the same Mr Justice [later Sir Redmond] Barry who would later try Ned Kelly; William Stanford, horse-stealing. 258 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 39. 259 Sir Valentine Chirol: The Egyptian Problem, 1920, Macmillan and Co, London, p. 26. “Recourse had to be quickly made [by the Khedive] to another loan for a record amount of £32,000,000 nominal at 8 instead of 7 per cent, which after various deductions yielded a little more than £12,000,000 in cash. In 1874, a last and much smaller loan, for a trumpery £3,000,000 was placed with great difficulty abroad.” 260 Sir Valentine Chirol: The Egyptian Problem, p. 24. “…for Chinese Gordon, for whose curiously erratic and quixotic genius he [Sir Samuel Baker, Governor-General of the Sudan] had an almost superstitious admiration…He [Gordon] had a kindly as well as a cruel side to his nature.” The Victorian Web: Charles George Gordon online database. 195 himself. 261 Was the fledgling nation of Australia going to suffer a similar fate when political and financial interests back in Britain became of greater immediate concern than the welfare of loyal British subjects even further removed than the Sudan? The commission for an original statue of Gordon in Trafalgar Square, London was awarded to sculptor Sir William “Hamo” Thornycroft, with a copy of this to be produced for Melbourne. A public subscription was raised from one hundred thousand of Melbourne’s citizens, and was so successful that a surplus of one thousand pounds was subsequently handed over to the Gordon Institute for Friendless Boys. 262 The good citizens of Melbourne, or at least those represented through The Age newspaper, were respectful enough of Gordon to express their dismay when the public grandstands erected for the Federation parade inadvertently blocked his statue from the view of the march participants. “It seems almost incomprehensible that while efforts are being made to beautify the city in anticipation of the arrival of the Duke and Duchess of York, the celebrations committee should allow a grandstand to be erected so as to obscure one of the most perfect pieces of statuary in the colonies.” 263 Since tickets for the stand had already been allocated to country visitors, little could be done at this late stage, although in an amusing instance of Federation era ‘spin’, Mr M’Culloch again, claimed that “the stand was originally intended for the cadets, who were to group themselves around the statue as a tribute to the memory of the great soldier.” 264 By the time of the Federation march, the bastion of imperialist sacrifice had been joined by the monument to the Eight Hour Day. Actually, Gordon of Khartoum had been joined by only the plinth for the monument to the Eight Hour Day. Due to a shortfall of £3,000, the monument itself was not completed until 1903. 265 The important advancement of the Eight Hour Day for working people had originally been due to agitation from Melbourne stone masons and cutters who found themselves being forced to deal with the same extremely hard local basalt bluestone that eventually undermined William Stanford. This material was so difficult to cut and shape prior to the 261 Peter James Marshall: Cambridge Illustrated History of the British Empire, 1996, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, pp. 76, 300. George Smith, Oxford University Press: Charles George Gordon, The Dictionary of National Biography, part 1 to 1900, Oxford University Press, London. “…killed after having sustained a siege of 317 days, succour being sent from England too late.” 262 The Argus: 29 February 1928, p. 21. Note the entries in The Argus right through 1885, listing individual subscriptions offered by the citizens of Melbourne, including the considerable sum of £5.5.0 by a J F from Towong. 263 The Age: 1 May 1901, p. 7. 264 The Age: 1 May 1901, p. 7. 265 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 211. 196 availability of machinery that men were being physically worn out. 266 An Eight Hour League was finally formed and advantage was taken of a buoyant economy in 1856 for the ground-breaking condition to be won. 267 The continued shortage of labour through the 1880s enabled other trades to also push for improved wages and conditions, with Davison again pointing out again the degree to which working people attempted to use, rather than rebel against, the social and economic system to better their lot. 268 The workers at the time were themselves adopting the ideals of the new scientific society: both physical relief and cultural advancement. While secretary of the Stonemason’s Union, James Galloway, claimed that, “We have come 16,000 miles to better our condition, and not to act the mere part of machinery”, an 1856 resolution from the Eight Hour League also stated that “the progress of the arts and sciences, and the demand for intellectual gratification and improvement, call for an abridgement of the hours of labour.” 269 The monument plinth would therefore have been a noteworthy part of the later Saturday morning Trades and Friendly Societies parade, 270 which had also been listed as a Trades and Friendly Societies: The Eight Hours Demonstration. 271 In 1932 the finished statue was moved to its current position outside Melbourne Trades Hall in Victoria Street Carlton, and its place taken by the present Paul Montford statue commemorating the centenary of the birth of the poet Adam Lindsay Gordon. 272 Again, incongruity would seem to dictate the transfer of such a symbol of radical worker advancement from a position adjacent to the seat of Government during the depths of the Great Depression, and its replacement by the statue of a poet of varying stature and questionable stolidity with anything but a working class heritage. Adam Lindsay Gordon was the scion of a wealthy plantation family, banished to the colonies for his rather dissolute lifestyle. 273 Interests in poorly managed properties, 266 The Argus: 26 March 1956, p. 5. The 8 Hours Day is 100. 267 Jill Eastwood: Melbourne – the Growth of a Metropolis, p. 43. 268 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978. “In November 1888…the Amalgamated Society accordingly moderated its demand to 45 hours (from 44) and on Christmas Eve the carpenters agreed to stand firm.” However, within three years, “the building industry sensed the first tremors of recession.” 269 Quoted in Jill Eastwood: Melbourne – the Growth of a Metropolis, pp. 41-42. 270 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 6. 271 The Age: 13 May 1901, p. 8. Trades and Friendly Societies. “A Double Procession: The Eight Hours Demonstration. A Great Spectacle.” 272 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 39. 273 Leonie Kramer: Adam Lindsay Gordon (1833-1870), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. Reading between the lines of various biographical sources, it would appear that a rather unstable personality was adversely affected by the results of accidents and falls from horses. 197 horse racing, and business failures resulted in the dispersal of his considerable financial legacy, and his poetical output was brought to a premature end with his suicide on Brighton Beach, Melbourne on 24 June 1870. 274 Gordon’s tragic death caused a flurry of interest in his poetry, and in 1934, Adam Lindsay Gordon became the only Australian poet to be honoured with a bust in Poet’s Corner, Westminster Abbey. “His popularity sprang from the romantic aura of his life, his aristocratic background, his exile in the colony, his reckless riding exploits, and the pathos of his death.” 275 That it should have been Adam Lindsay Gordon so commemorated and the poetry that honed in on the fatalistic and quixotic nature of the demise of Burke and Wills, rather than the over-extended and ill-thought out incompetence that resulted in both their deaths and the later slaughter of Gordon of Khartoum, is itself most telling. The western side of the road has retained much of the original Federation feel, with the Windsor, later named Grand, Hotel filling the entire block from Little Collins Street to Bourke Street. 276 Although no doubt a place of welcome respite, at the time of the Federation parade, the institution had only been re-licensed for four years. Built in 1883 to the plans of Charles Webb, the architect also responsible for South Melbourne’s impressive Town Hall, 277 the hotel was converted in 1886 to a Temperance Coffee House by Presbyterian temperance advocate and Victorian Premier James Munro. 278 Of course, Munro’s puritan beliefs did not prevent him from accumulating considerable wealth during the banking boom of the 1880s, although when the inevitable crash occurred he found himself ruined, and retired from public life. 279 The hotel was subsequently sold, its licence returned in 1897, and in 1920 was renamed the Windsor, commemorating the British Royal Family’s adoption of this very English sounding name toward the end of the First World War. 280 274 Wilde, Hooton, Andrews: The Oxford Companion to Australian Literature, pp. 322-323. 275 Wilde, Hooton, Andrews: The Oxford Companion to Australian Literature, p. 322. 276 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 62. Photograph Booklet vol. 2, p. 40. 277 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 54. 278 Deborah Tout-Smith: Melbourne – a City of Stories, p. 48. 279 Ann M Mitchell: James Munro (1832-1908), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. “Munro was described as a 'rough tyke' in his early years. He was quick tempered and authoritarian but always 'easy to get on with if you let him have his own way'.” 280 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 64. National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 79. 198 The primary focal point passed in Spring Street would of course have been the Victorian State Parliament House, addressed at 110-160 Spring Street. 281 While this appears to hold to the most logical position in the city, this was apparently originally not the case. When planned between 1853 and 1855, the architect Peter Kerr described the high grounds between Bourke Street and the old St Peter’s School as, “Unformed, full of holes and dirt, stagnant waters, refuse etc, and it was in addition a harbour for undesirable characters.” 282 Jeff and Jill Sparrow claim that the site was chosen by Surveyor General Robert Hoddle “for the purely sectarian purpose of obscuring St Patrick’s Catholic Cathedral.” 283 Actually, William Wardell was not engaged to develop plans for St Patrick’s until 1858 and the cathedral had not risen to the point of being obscured by anything until 1871. 284 The massive high Victorian edifice does present an imposing sense of grandeur and the wealth that the city and the colony had wrought from the gold rushes. This is even more obviously the case when compared with the more Georgian pre-industrial Parliament House in Sydney, although I suspect that pure affluence and exuberance, rather than a conscious need to compete with the older city, determined its design. 285 Certainly there would have been no packing cases used to line the walls in this building. 286 Interestingly, the building was planned to have been even more ornate, with further north and south wings and a massive dome similar to that on the State Library, part of the original design. 287 While structurally built from the same local bluestone that has formed the foundation of so many of Melbourne’s other important buildings, this material appeared to have been deemed not elegant enough for the building’s ultimate presentation. Bacchus Marsh and Stawell sandstone was therefore used as a veneer. 288 The easier to cut and shape stone was no doubt considered more suitable for the classical façade, with the ministry of public works commenting on the 281 Photograph Booklet vol.2, pp. 40, 41. 282 Jeff and Jill Sparrow: Radical Melbourne, vol.1, 2001, The Vulgar Press, Melbourne, p. 92. In this, at least, the attitude towards the site mirrors that towards the site of St Mary’s Cathedral in Sydney, 283 Jeff and Jill Sparrow: Radical Melbourne, vol.1, p. 91. 284 Ursula M De Jong: St Patrick’s Cathedral Melbourne – a guide, 2005, Catholic Archdiocese of Melbourne, Melbourne, pp. 32-33. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 42. 285 Looking back on the NSW State Parliament House in the Sydney March section of this thesis, it is obvious that it would not have required much effort to have outdone the older building in scale or grandeur. To modern sensibilities, it is the subdued understated nature of the building that is its whole point. 286 NSW Government: Parliament of NSW online database, 2011, chapt. 22, Physical Setting, p. 613. 287 Heritage Council Victoria: Parliament House database. 288 The Argus: 28 June 1883, p. 6. The Stawell Stone for the Parliament House. 199 attractiveness of the stone. 289 Whether one gets the sense of (to borrow the Sparrows’ commentary) a “terrified ruling class [that] gave ground before a radicalised citizenry”, 290 perhaps depends upon the cultural viewpoint and wishful thinking that one brings to the site. Certainly, the building dominates in a grand rather than overpowering way, and would have been the logical location for the temporary, if eventually twenty six year, residence of Australia’s Federal Parliament. If the principal Roman Catholic cathedral in Melbourne was not intended to be obscured by the State Parliament House, the initial parade through the city of Melbourne did bypass St Patrick’s Cathedral in a way that contrasted with the Sydney march’s inclusion of St Mary’s. Whether this was a religious or cultural snub is interesting to contemplate. Certainly I have found no mention of St Patrick’s being formally ignored in any discussion of the route. However, while the planning of the initial Monday presentation parade was concerned with added distance and geometric balance, the Thursday march from Government House to the Exhibition Building for the opening of Federal Parliament followed a more convoluted path back and forth through the city, and even went along Nicholson Street, past Evelyn Place before turning left into Carlton Gardens. 291 This meant that the parade passed only one street away from the Gisborne and Albert Streets’ site of the Cathedral, and certainly could have been included if it was deemed to have been significant enough. Turning up Macarthur street and then Gisborne Street would have by-passed State Parliament House, although a detour along Albert Street and then back to Victoria Parade would have added five hundred metres to the overall march distance. 292 Again, this may have over complicated the route to the Carlton Gardens, although the conscious or unconscious rebuff would no doubt have rankled with some members of the Catholic Church in Melbourne. Whether the Tuesday Fire Brigades’ Procession which did travel down Gisborne Street was meant to offer a level of compensation, I doubt that it would have offset any dismay, and the later off and on again banning of St 289 The Argus: 28 June 1883, p. 6. “We have no hesitation in saying it [the Stawell sandstone] is one of the handsomest stones we have ever seen,” 290 Jeff and Jill Sparrow: Radical Melbourne, vol.1, p. 91. 291 The Argus: 8 May 1901, p. 8. 292 UBD: Melbourne and Suburbs Street Directory 2008, map 18. 200 Patrick’s Day parades through Melbourne would indicate a level of acceptance of Catholic culture amongst the city’s hierarchy much lower than that of Sydney. 293 Tradition has it that the Roman Catholic Church in Victoria failed to gain political influence to the same degree as in Sydney, and so retained more the position of the outsider. 294 So with both cities’ primary cathedrals occupying such notable sites, what can we learn from a thick description of the two structures? Having visited both buildings during my footstepping, the most notable interior difference centres on the number of stained glass windows. With virtually every major window in St Mary’s filled by expensive donated lead light, there is considerable proof of the wealth that the Catholic parishioners in Sydney could bestow upon their place of worship. 295 While the exterior structure of St Patrick’s is every bit as imposing, the interior tells a different story. Most windows are glazed in clear golden glass. 296 This gives a wonderful aura to the building, but also indicates that less money was forthcoming for the stained glass that Wardell would no doubt have liked to see eventually filling the openings. It was not surprising that the great Labor split of the 1950s should have commenced in Victoria. 297 A long tradition of political power often results in a mellowing of idealistic but unrealistic expectations, and Labor in NSW embodied this from the social upheaval of the 1890s Depression onwards. 298 Communist agitation and union power still existed in NSW, notably after the equally traumatic events of the 1930s Depression and Second 293 The Argus: 23 February 1922, p. 9. St Patrick’s Procession, Catholic Federation’s Protest. “That this conference emphatically protests against the narrow-minded and unjust action of the Melbourne City Council in refusing permission to the St Patrick’s Day celebration committee to march through the streets of Melbourne.” The Sydney Morning Herald: 16 March 1901, p. 9. For the first couple of years of the Federated nation; 1900 to 1902, St Patrick’s Day was a public holiday in NSW. 294 Jeff and Jill Sparrow: Radical Melbourne, vol.1, p. 11. “But Labor in this state [Victoria] has usually been an oppositional force. During the period covered here [1890s-1960s], there were Labor ministers in Treasury Place for less than five years – in every other Australian state, Labor held office for more than twice as long.” 295 St Mary’s Cathedral: St Mary’s Cathedral Sydney - A Living Cathedral, pp. 34, 35. 296 Ursula M De Jong: St Patrick’s Cathedral Melbourne – a guide, 2005, p. 6. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 42. 297 The Argus: 20 February 1939, p. 2. Catholic Action. “The first national conference of Catholic Action will be held in Melbourne this week, and delegates from the various States will be present. A national secretariat has been established with a diocesan secretariat in each capital city.” Jeff and Jill Sparrow: Radical Melbourne, volume 2, chapt. 15. Christ’s cadre, describing the influence of B A Santamaria and The Movement whose “cells met in tight secrecy. Windows were often blacked out.” 298 John Rickard: Australia – a cultural history, p. 143. “In Victoria, the severity of the 1890s depression and the political emphasis on recovery had discouraged polarisation, and the Labor Party lacked organisation.” 201 World War, but was invariably controlled by the more pragmatic Labor side itself. 299 In Victoria, extremism and impotence resulted in greater Communist influence in union and Labor affairs and the inevitable reaction from the Catholic ‘groupers’. 300 This division then spilled over into the Federal sphere, causing the Labor party to split along both religious and ideological lines. 301 While the party remained sidelined, both Federally and in Victoria through the 1950s and 1960s, 302 Labor administrations led by moderate conservatives such as McKell and moderately right Catholics such as McGirr and Cahill continued to control government in NSW. 303 8. BOURKE STREET AND CITY LIFE My footstepping retracing the Melbourne Federation march now turned west and began back down the slope of Bourke Street, and at the junction of Bourke and Russell Streets reached the spot where the structure known as the Citizen’s Arch had been erected. 304 The actual location for this particular arch seemed most apt, being at the entrance to the heart of Melbourne’s retail district; a place where those from all classes, religions and races would have come together for the communal activity of shopping. 305 Whether the actual arch itself would have represented any aspect of this citizenship is another matter. The description given by Milne indicates a classically designed pink and gold arch with messages of welcome to the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York, including images 299 Robert Murray: The Ironworkers – a history of the Federated Ironworkers Assn of Aust, 1982, Hale & Iremonger, Sydney. The overly controlling pragmatism of the “NSW Right” of course can over-reach itself, resulting in the current state of political affairs in Macquarie Street. 300 The Argus: 27 June 1949, p. 2. Catholic Action Fighting Reds. The spread of Communism needed to be checked…We could learn much from Communists, who gradually made contacts among workers and others, and their influence was spreading. Their success was helped by the apathy of those who refused to recognise the danger.” 301 D.J. Murphy: Labor in Politics, the state Labor parties in Australia 1880-1920, 1975, University of Queensland Press, Brisbane, chapt. 1. “A ‘Labor party’ in Victoria contested its first general election in 1892. Sixty years were to elapse before any of its successors could claim an absolute majority in the Legislative Assembly…. By the time Victorian Labor won its first majority in 1952, Labor in the other states had already been in office for periods ranging from ten to thirty-four years.” 302 Tom Prior: Bolte by Bolte, 1990, Craftsman Publishing, Melbourne, p. 42. Note the chapter “Winning Tatts, and Government”, where both Liberal State Premier Henry Bolte and Liberal Federal Prime Minister Robert Menzies “always said, ‘Well, they lost again.’ We never claimed the win for ourselves, at least, in private we didn’t.” 303 G N Hawker: The Parliament of New South Wales 1856-1965, 1971, Victor Blight NSW Government Printer, Sydney, pp. 206, 207. “The Labor Party returned to office in 1941 and remained there until 1965, a record term, under W J McKell (1941-47), J McGirr (1947-52), J J Cahill (1952-59), R J Heffron (1959- 64) and J B Renshaw (1964-65).” 304 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 10. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 46. 305 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 48. 202 of the royal visitors and a central portrait of the King. 306 Did this actually reflect the hopes and aspirations of the citizens of the city, or for that matter, the nation? Even allowing for the greater exuberance shown towards representations of royalty at the time, there appears to have been little more than was being asserted in most of the other arches. It appears that this actual location was considered by The Age at least to be significant enough for the general populace. 307 Even today there is an excitement and social hum to the precinct; the block bounded by Bourke and Collins Streets Street is crowded and the shops are obviously still doing a roaring trade. 308 There is still the sense of the intermingling of services and institutions that go to make up the modern city. The northern side of Bourke Street from Spring Street then contained a myriad of small businesses, including watchmakers, cycle works and even at number 42, an Oyster Saloon. 309 On the southern side, the Salvation Army still remains between numbers 65 and 71 Bourke Street next to Westwood Place, as it was in 1901. 310 This institution no doubt provided both a source of humour for writers such as Dennis, but also valuable social support to the working people in the district. Crossing over Exhibition Street in 1901, the parade would then have passed the principal produce supply for Melbourne, the Great Eastern Markets. 311 These took up the half block from numbers 95 to 115 Bourke Street, and would have been the main food store for the city. 312 This site is now the Southern Cross Tower, the result of one of the massive clearances that has taken place to modernise this end of town. The National Trust’s Walking Melbourne booklet makes no mention of either the original markets or the tower that has replaced them, although there is an entry for the Eastern Arcade that stood next door, and still exists today. 313 Within the markets, shopping must have been an event in itself. Where else could one find a row of poultry and bird dealers next door to a group of phrenologists, followed by porcelain and china 306 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The Story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, pp. 84-85. 307 The Age: 7 May 1901, p. 3. 308 Clarence James Dennis: Selected Verse of C J Dennis, p. 13. The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke, Introduction. Even a century ago, this retail square was the logical place for Dennis’ Sentimental Bloke to meet his beloved. “Twas on a Saturdee in Colluns Street, An’ – quite be accident, o’ course – we meet.” 309 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, 1901, p. 5. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 47. 296 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, pp. 74-75. 311 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 49. 312 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 48. And consequently was the location where C J Dennis’ larrikin Ginger Mick has his vegetable barrow. 313 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 5. 203 merchants and a shaving strop manufacturer? 314 Grocers, fruiters and the poulterers such as Richard Harding at number 21 indicate that many people obviously bought live birds and killed their own. The lower level of the markets also contained half a dozen shooting galleries between store numbers16 and 31. This would perhaps imply a greater degree of social responsibility at the time compared with today, even if the competitors were using air rifles; and it would appear that the worldwide interest in air rifle shooting that was evident in Britain at the time had spread to Australia. 315 Again, reflecting the cosmopolitan and jumbled nature of the markets, these galleries shared their level with wine cellars and ice cream parlours, a photographic parlour and even W H Baker’s pigeon exchange. 316 What is also noticeable in the directory of the time are not only the presence of typical Anglo Saxon and Anglo Celtic names in both the Eastern Markets and the Eastern Arcade, but further examples of the ‘exotic’ that, as also in Sydney, can appear to the modern footstepper as almost caricatures. Antonio Ghidossi the Italian fruiterer was at number 45 in the market area while Mrs Charlotte Le Blanc’s feather shop resided at number 15 in the arcade. 317 Further down Bourke Street, at number 24 Russell Place, stood Quong Hing’s Chinese laundry, 318 sharing this building with H R Harper’s The New Australian Electric Co Ltd, surely the high tech store of the day. This Bourke Street, Collins Street block was also the area for high-end quality clothing, at a time when fashions within Australia were making a notable change. As photographs from even the 1880s show, most people at this time would have been wearing the heavy woollen clothes, uniforms, long skirts and coats inherited from the old country. 319 The nation was still linked to Britain with social and cultural ties that were strong and often impractical. Even by 1901, the majority of the population were either immigrants from the British Isles, or the children of immigrants, and the continued wearing of clothing styles from the cold northern hemisphere still seemed perfectly natural. Hence the large number of not only laundries, but the significant 314 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 5. 315 The Sydney Morning Herald: 3 May 1898, p. 3. The Sydney Morning Herald: 4 March 1901, p. 4. Rifle shooting club results were published throughout the decade, indicating the obvious social acceptability of shooting competitions. “A match took place at the Randwick Rifle Range between teams from Liverpool Rifle Club and the Infantry Regiment Rifle Club…Sydney Civilian Rifle Club…was engaged in a club shoot on Saturday.” 316 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, 1901, p. 6. 317 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 6. 318 Note comments on location of laundries and dry cleaners. 319 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 48. 204 development of dry-cleaning for the preservation of these garments. 320 The wealth of the new country enabled ordinary citizens who considered themselves to be now living in the working man’s paradise to purchase and proudly wear the thick rich woollen and heavy cotton garb that would certainly have been beyond many of their expectations back in the British Isles. The light cotton and lighter woollen clothes that have, over the last century, become the accepted dress code throughout the mild winters and hot steamy summers in Australia, may well have been looked upon as peasant garb symbolising the very poverty that immigrants had been escaping in coming to Australia. 321 Davison mentions this eternal human characteristic, that “among the more common items of expenditure, dress was the acknowledged badge of status. It signalled the occupation, standing and taste of the wearer and instantly cued the conduct of those she met.” 322 And of course, still does today. Photographs of Melbourne, both during the march itself, and those of the city in general at the turn of the century neatly reflect the clothing of the time. Both men’s and women’s clothing had changed during the 1890s, with the bustle going out amongst the well off, and the suits of the men becoming looser and either two piece, or three piece with a waistcoat, 323 however, the visible clothing still reflected standards from Britain. Greater formality certainly ruled significant events such as the Federation parade. The Argus of 4 May was quite specific as to the clothing women should wear for the march, the receptions and evening concerts. 324 While a day or walking dress with hat or toque (a small brimmed or brimless walking hat) would suffice for most women for most purposes, others obviously would “delightedly seize the opportunity to wear during the festive six days not fewer than twelve different gowns, exclusive of those they may put on in the morning or wear to a fireworks’ display, or such like.” 325 Any gradual generational change abruptly halted with the death of Queen Victoria. The entire empire went into mourning, both literally and culturally with mourning dress, 320 The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 January 1938, p. 19. Mention of the serious risk of fire caused by the older petrol based dry cleaning solvents explains why there are no dry cleaners listed in the Sands Directory for the centre of Melbourne. Apparently they were isolated by legislation. 321 The Australasian: 12 January 1918, p. 18. Standardising Clothing. “This is a subject that every woman should take to heart and give much thought to. Restrictions and regulations in the matter of costume run all through the social side of English history.” 322 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 201. 323 Deborah Tout-Smith: Melbourne – a City of Stories, p. 6. 324 The Argus: 4 May 1901, p. 15. 325 The Argus: 4 May 1901, p. 15. 205 particularly for men becoming virtually mandatory. 326 This became a tradition and fashion that has continued ever since, with modern dark business suits being essentially Victorian mourning dress. Official’s wives were expected to conform to half-mourning gowns in black, white or grey, and while the general public “may please themselves, it was assumed that they too would conform to the same sombre and respectful” half- mourning colours. 327 One aspect evident from footstepping the Sydney Federation parade, noted through the business directories of the time and which has now faded to a ghostly shadow, was the number of small and family businesses that provided services for the population. In the days before the expansion of the big department stores, with their reliance upon mass transportation for the stocking of their shelves and mass transportation of customers, it was the small single shopfront business that made the city function. This was the same situation in Melbourne, and was never more noticeable than in the number of firms servicing personal and home entertainment. In the days before radio and the gramophone, it was the ability of people to make their own music at home that provided relaxation after a day’s work. Both musical instrument suppliers and the teachers of music were numerous throughout the city, and unlike other trades and callings, did not appear to be restricted to a specific district. Number 201 Swanston Street between Bourke and Lonsdale Streets held Walter James Brown and Son, violin and bow makers, while next door at 203 Swanston Street was W Paxton & Co, music publishers. 328 Walter Brown was an award winning violinmaker originally from London, who exhibited in the Melbourne Exhibition of 1888-1889. 329 By the time of the Federation march, Brown the elder had died but the company continued trading until 1913. On the other side of the city at 240-242 Collins Street was virtually a music emporium with Alfred Beckett’s music warehouse, and four music teachers: Misses Edith Raynor, Bessie Delves, Miss Carabel and an H J King. 330 And behind this site, one block away on Bourke Street, Sutton’s Proprietary Ltd imported both musical 326 The Sydney Morning Herald: 24 January 1901, p. 8. Mourning in Sydney. Singleton Argus: 2 February 1901. “Very many of the local residents have donned mourning clothes out of respect to the death of Her Majesty Queen Victoria.” The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 February 1901, p. 5. “It is announced that the Queen’s statue will today be redecorated with floral offerings…the railway mechanics of Eveleigh Workshops inscribed ‘with deepest regret and sorrow’.” 327 The Argus: 4 May 1901, p15. 328 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 65. 329 Walter Brown: Violin and Bow Makers of Australia online database. 330 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 13. 206 instruments and sheet music. 331 This Eastern Arcade was also notable in the number of music teachers: F Leslie taught dancing at number 30 while an exotic flavour was added with Signor G Vadala’s Italian School of Music at number 46. 332 It was therefore natural that music should have been an important part of the Federation parades, with military and community bands taking part in all the celebratory proceedings. As well as bands actually marching in the processions, there were bands sited at suitable locations along the routes to provide entertainment for the spectators as they waited for the parade to arrive and the participants as they marched past. Much of the music used during the Federation celebrations in both Sydney and Melbourne has been collated by Therese Raic in her article Federation: Music in Service to National Ambition, published in Australasian Music Research. 333 The article not only lists the bands and program for the Sydney Federation march, but also the musical accompaniment to the other events throughout the week. These included Gourod’s Messe Solennelle at St Patrick’s Cathedral on the Sunday prior to the procession to, Wagner’s Overture to the Meistersingers and Frederick Cowan’s Song of Thanksgiving, both performed at the Conversazione on the evening of the 7 May by Melbourne’s choir and orchestra conducted by August Siede. Further works by Mendelssohn, Hamish McCunn and Handel were also included in this performance. 334 The Age also noted the bands along the route along with the lists for military guards and formal Guards of Honour. 335 As examples, the Band of the Royal Artillery greeted the Vice-Regal party as they arrived at St Kilda Pier while the Second Queensland band supported the guard of honour at the Princes Bridge entry into the city. Merely a short block to the intersection of Flinders and Swanston Streets stood the Tasmanian State Band, although according to Radic, “Only two of the items played found their way into the press reporting of the event: the march With Sword and Lance, and the music-hall tune (and seemingly very un-Regal) There’ll be a Hot Time in the Old Town Tonight”. 336 331 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 3. 332 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 6. 333 Therese Radic: Federation: Music in service to National Ambition. pp. 1-26. 334 Therese Radic: Federation: Music in service to National Ambition. pp.19, 20. 335 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 9. 336 Therese Radic: Federation: Music in service to National Ambition. pp.16, 18. 207 The Sydney Inauguration Ceremony at Centennial Park had been accompanied by over 10,000 voices singing: O God our help in ages past’, ‘Te Deum and both the National Anthem God Save the King and Advance Australia Fair. 337 These would have been the standard repertoire to accompany a Vice-Regal event of much solemnity. However, the opening of the First Commonwealth Parliament was complemented with an eclectic and one could say multicultural mix of: Slavonic Dances by Dvorak, Windsor Klange by Gungl and Le Dernier Sommell de la Vierge by Massenet, finishing with the William Tell Overture by Rossini. 338 As with the earlier Sydney parade, one of the serious concerns of the organising authorities was crowd control and crowd safety. Newspapers published lists of “Hints for today: Be Seated by 1 o’clock, Keep to the right, Be patient at crossings, Help the police; they have difficult work, Avoid crushes as far as possible, If in a dense crowd keep your hands up, Beware of pickpockets; leave valuables at home. To guard against hunger, provide yourself with a few raisins or dried figs; they sustain one wonderfully.” 339 Importantly, first aid provisions had also been well thought out, and still sound remarkably up to date today. “If anyone faints, raise him or her aloft in a prone position, and remove to nearest right-of-way for treatment. Ambulance men will be quickly found by the police in case of necessity.” 340 “The arrangements which are being made by the City Council for the maintenance of a number of ambulance stations in various parts of the city are nearly completed.” 341 These were thoughtfully placed at almost all the arches and the Town Hall, although notably not at the Chinese Arch. Whether it was due to this arch not being directly on the route, or a reflection of racial attitudes, The Argus did make the point. As well as the Ambulance Corps, “A number of ladies and gentlemen have volunteered their services for duty.” As The Age reported, “Arrangements are being made for the whole of the stations to be connected by telephone as to secure prompt attention in case of accident. Any call will be sent to the five stations simultaneously, and the nearest squad will immediately attend. On the arrival of the ambulance, the public are requested to ‘help’ by making room for them to get to work and away again as quickly as possible”. 342 Again, the perceived restrictions 337 The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901. 338 Therese Radic: Federation: music in service to National Ambition. p. 23. 339 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 7. Healthy eating is apparently not just a modern concern. 340 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 7. 341 The Age: 2 May 1901, p. 6. 342 The Age: 2 May 1901, p. 6. . 208 on the role of women in society a century ago do not always correspond to the realities reported in the press. Our expectations in ensuring public safety during such mass gatherings would appear to have changed little over a century, with The Age advising, “Don’t ‘lose your head’ in the event of an accident or panic. Help if able. If you can’t help, don’t interfere, but get out of the way, and so make room for those who can.” 343 Lord Hopetoun himself appealed to the public to refrain from throwing items such as papers, flowers and fireworks into the streets and thus frighten the horses, although again one would have expected the general population of the time to have had an appreciation of the potential dangers of even normally well-trained horses. Overall, these planning arrangements utilising responsible members of the public and integrating their support with the latest technology would be mirrored a century later with similar provisions being adopted for the Sydney Olympics. 344 9. LITTLE LON’ While most of my research time in Sydney and Melbourne was spent following the exact routes of the Federation Parades, I made some significant detours in the cities: investigating districts important in terms of the Australian culture of a century ago but also significant in that they were by-passed by the marches. In Melbourne, one was the quarter of Little Lonsdale Street, known as ‘Little Lon’; the area to the far north east of the city centre bordering then, as now, on the former working class inner suburbs of Carlton and Fitzroy. The block bounded by La Trobe and Spring Streets, Russell and Lonsdale Streets 345 appeared decrepit as early as 1870, 346 and was described by Bessie Harrison Lee, a stalwart of Women’s Christian Temperance, as a district of “tiny cottages abutting brothels, hotels and opium dens”. 347 However, along with Sydney’s Rocks and Darlinghurst, seems to have existed as much in the imagination as geographical 343 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 8. 344 NSW Health: Services for the 2000 Olympic and Paralympic Games, December 2000 online database. 345 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 52. 346 Deborah Tout-Smith: Melbourne – a City of Stories, p. (ix). 347 Deborah Tout-Smith: Melbourne – a City of Stories, p. 45. 209 reality. 348 While regarded as a hot bed of poverty, deprivation and crime, the location of Little Lonsdale Street, adjacent to what were then the main city markets and the industrial centres to the immediate north, would indicate that honest employment was probably the norm. However, dishonest employment was also a feature of the district, with it containing the city’s brothel and gambling area. 349 Certainly Tout-Smith also points out that “by 1900 Little Lon was one of Australia’s most multicultural neighbourhoods” with Germans, Jews, Chinese, Southern Europeans Syrians, Lebanese and Italians inhabiting the quarter, and contributing to the city. 350 It was no doubt with this in mind that the Little Lonsdale Street area was chosen by C J Dennis a decade after Federation for the fictional Spadger’s Lane setting of his verse novella beginning with The Songs of a Sentimental Bloke. 351 The district and its colourful collection of Larrikins, Coves, Donnas and Skirts 352 created such an appeal for Dennis that he ended up dedicating to ‘Little Lon’ a large part of his literary output: The Moods of Ginger Mick, Doreen and Rose of Spadgers. 353 Even the domesticated post First World War augmentations of Digger Smith and Jim of the Hills stand primarily as rural contrasts to the close and excitingly dangerous world of the inner city toughs. 354 With so much of the district subsequently demolished and redeveloped, it is difficult to determine just which remaining indent would have been used by Dennis as the 348 Alan Mayne and Tim Murray: The Archaeology of Urban Landscapes, 2001, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, chapt. 7. Imaginary landscapes; reading Melbourne’s ‘Little Lon’. As much as an imaginary landscape, surely Little Lon exemplified the concept of an imagined community. If such communities did not exist, perhaps they would have had to be imagined to act as a cultural response to the expectations and aspirations of the wider society. 349 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 236. Davison quotes itinerant evangelist Henry Varley to the effect that “no other city the size of Melbourne that has so many prostitutes in it…no city the size of this on God’s earth with five or six such debasing places of amusement in it as Melbourne has.” It seems unlikely that there would have been no other city in the world of Melbourne’s size with the same number of sex workers, and there is no mention of which parts of the city were so affected 350 Deborah Tout-Smith: Melbourne – a City of Stories, p. 45. 351 Clarence James Dennis: Selected Verse of C J Dennis, pp. 9-37. 352 Melbourne Truth: 25 September 1915, p. 2. “A neatly-dressed, pleasant faced girl named Alice Collins was charged in the City Court on Wednesday with having used indecent language in Little Lonsdale Street on the previous evening…It is disgraceful that such language should come out of any woman’s mouth, and you stand there and smile…Alice ceased to smile as she departed for the cells.” 353 Clarence James Dennis: Selected Verse of C J Dennis, table of contents p. (xxi). Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 53. 354 Alec A Chisholm: The Making of a Sentimental Bloke, 1946, Georgian House, Melbourne, p. 75. Note Melbourne man-of-letter Robert Henderson Croll’s mention of the derivation of Bill “The Bloke”. The character was apparently based on a real life plumber who “was frequently called in by Chinese when repairs were needed in the opium-dens or gambling-shops” and who then made the acquaintance of Dennis when he moved to the country outside Melbourne. 210 archetype for Spadger’s. 355 Most of the block is now taken up with bastions of the corporate world: the Telstra Centre, Commonwealth Offices and new blocks of apartments, 356 although the architectural history of the area and its subsequent “improvement” is covered by a page and a half in the National Trust’s Walking Melbourne booklet. 357 Most notable are the few workers’ cottages that do remain, and the number of churches and chapels that would have served the ostensibly non-religious inhabitants. 358 A singular enduring structure is the former Jewish Synagogue on the corner of Exhibition and Little Lonsdale Streets. Although the Jewish congregation left in 1877 for larger premises, the building continued to be used as a mission to the poor and a kindergarten until 1989. 359 Along with the prevalent attitudes towards the Chinese, the attitudes of the local residents towards the Jewish population appears not have been as negative as later commentators would imply. 360 One of the heritage sites currently celebrated in the district is the well-known brothel known as Madam Brussels’, then operating at 32-34 Lonsdale Street. Madam Brussels’ Lane is now an arcade that passes back to Casselden Place and the preserved cottages that sit rather self-consciously among the modern corporate offices and coffee shops. 361 No doubt the notoriety and salaciousness of its reputation guaranteed that, if only in name, Madam Brussels’ would remain. 362 The most famous tale told of this august institution centres on the loss of the Victorian Legislative Assembly’s gold plated mace on Friday 9 October 1891. 363 According to The Argus: 355 History of Melbourne City, Victoria: Local Hero online database, p. 4. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 53. Judging by the Hal Gye drawing, there is the possibility that Cumberland Place served as the model for Spadger’s Lane. 356 UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory, map 2. Alan Mayne and Tim Murray: The Archaeology of Urban Landscapes, pp. 90-91. “In 1948 the Commonwealth Government compulsorily acquired the blocks on either side of Little Lonsdale Street…The rest of the block was cleared in the 1970s for a telephone exchange.” Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 55. 357 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, pp. 89-91. 358 Note the Anglican Mission in Spring Street, Wesley Church in Lonsdale Street, not to mention the many other churches in the Little Bourke Street area; and of course St Patrick’s Cathedral across on Nicholson Street. 359 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 91. 360 Ann Curthoys and Andrew Markus: Who are our Enemies? p. 29. 361 Photograph Booklet vol.2, pp. 54, 55. 362 Alan Mayne and Tim Murray: The Archaeology of Urban Landscapes, p. 90. 363 The Argus: 10 October 1891, p. 9. Although a serious theft in itself, and a blot on the Office of the Parliament, the reaction of the august Argus was rather strange. Mention of the event was hidden away on page 9, despite the over blown reaction to “the most extraordinary robbery ever heard of in the colonies, probably indeed without parallel in the conventional history of the world”, and was compounded by confusion over whether the object was gold plated silver, or “made entirely of Victorian gold” and therefore impossibly valuable and heavy. 211 At the time, Sir Matthew Davies was Speaker. One night there was a late sitting. Parliament did not adjourn until 2 o’clock next morning and when the officers of the House resumed their duties seven hours later the mace could not be found. Among the rumours as to what had become of it was the story that a party of roystering (sic) legislators had removed the mace to a residence near Parliament house where it was used in a burlesque on the proceedings of Parliament, and was eventually taken away to destroy all evidence of this undignified proceeding. 364 While suspicion also apparently fell on the Parliamentary electrician, Thomas Jeffrey, the fact that charges were never proven, and the mace never recovered would indicate more than mere larceny was involved. 365 The previous wooden mace was pressed back into temporary service, to be replaced with a new silver and gold plated item just after the Federation parade and opening of Federal Parliament, and in time for the following Monday’s sitting of the State Legislative Assembly. 366 Just how disreputable Little Lonsdale Street really was is, of course open to question. One of the issues raised by my thesis is the degree to which sources and evidence are dependent upon the limitations of those writing at the time. Whether it was the literary interloper Dennis, the religious evangelicals of the Wesley Mission and Salvation Army that are still present in the district, 367 or the toffs and shocked journalists of The Argus who came to gawk, and occasionally even partake of the sly pleasures, most of the opinions of the district offered to us are those of outsiders. 368 As Davison himself comments: “Everyone assumed that the slum dwellers inhabited a separate moral universe.” 369 Historian Andrew La Nauze indicates that this has long been a common attitude. 364 The Argus: 19 April 1905, p. 7. 365 The Argus: 13 October 1891, p. 5. The Stolen Mace, not yet recovered. “Whether the mace which adorned the table of the Legislative Assembly on last Thursday night and was soon afterwards stolen by an irreverent thief, has yet passed through the melting pot, and taken on the form of common bar silver, is not yet known.” 366 The Argus: 17 February 1893, p. 6. The Missing Mace, Meeting of the Board of Enquiry. Even this board of enquiry held more than a year later was unable to come up with an answer as to the fate of the mace, with some lingering suspicion left hanging over a local house of ill repute and Thomas Jeffrey. No doubt the opening of Federal Parliament in Melbourne six weeks earlier was incentive enough to have the mace finally replaced, although one would have thought that this would have been done prior to the national event, rather than after. Also mentioned in the Parliament of Victoria: On this Day online database. 367 Deborah Tout-Smith: Melbourne – a City of Stories, p. 45. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 47. 368 Chris Jenks: Visual Culture, p. 150. “Bourgeois men derived vicarious pleasure from visiting the ‘bad’ and ‘ugly’ parts of the town and rationalised their conduct by claiming to speak on behalf of the poor.” 369 Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 237. 212 Stanley Jevons spent a rather uneventful evening perambulating around the Rocks (Sydney’s equivalent district) in search of vice in the 1850s, and noted instead people gossiping quietly on street corners or seated comfortably in their front rooms, reading, talking and sewing. Yet it did not occur to him that his portrayal of the area as a stinking sink of the purest evil, and the people as possessing ‘dirty clothes, slovenly manner and repulsive countenance’ might be just a little exaggerated. 370 No doubt the quarter did represent a great communal need in the days before social security and welfare. 371 As Davison goes on to claim, “The evils of urban life – poverty was only one – no longer seemed isolated and remediable, but endemic and well-nigh insoluble.” 372 However, as indicated by the popularity of Dennis’ works, “the ‘Little Lon’ of the mind” was also a place of humour. This sense of humour was noticeably absent in the longer-running discourse of moral reformers. 373 “‘Little Lon’ was appropriated by them as a symbol of the urban wastelands that needed to be reclaimed for decency.” 374 Even as late as the 1960s, the block bounded by Russell, Bourke, Spring and Latrobe Streets remained a rabbit warren of lanes and small cross streets retaining an air of excitement, mingled with social embarrassment, and a reality to avoid at times of national significance. 375 What this location also represented at the time, certainly for someone with modern sensibilities, was the inter-connectedness between races and classes in the pre- automobile and pre-suburban era. With the removal of the so-called underclass living behind Bourke and Lonsdale Streets, and the re-development of the former club land and Paris end of Collins Street, social distinctions have become less compressed. A century ago, when the population of the inner city was largely residential, it would have 370 A J La Nauze: William Stanley Jevons (1835-1882), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. “Known in Sydney as an able, if diffident, scientific observer and writer.” Alan Mayne and Tim Murray: The Archaeology of Urban Landscapes, p. 80. 371 Mark Hearn and Greg Patmore: Working the Nation – Working Life and Federation 1890-1914, chapt. 8. Knitting the Social Safety Net: Reassessing the Role of Federation in shaping Social Protection, 1901- 1914. Many people hoped one of the roles of the evolving Labor movement would be to bring support and a sense of hope to the folk who often found themselves in a downward spiral of hopelessness and social and financial failure. 372 Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 251. 373 Museum of Victoria: Exploring a vanished community online database. Note the recognition of “slumland sensationalism”. John Archer: Building a Nation – a History of the Australian House, pp. 142- 143. Even the Harold Cazneaux tableaux of “vermin-infested hovels” actually look quite clean and neat for working class districts that have just come out of a depression. 374 Alan Mayne and Tim Murray: The Archaeology of Urban Landscapes, p. 90. 375 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 52. 213 been the closeness between social groups and classes that the footstepper surely would have noticed most clearly. 376 It was less than a ten minute walk and less than a kilometre in distance between Melbourne’s Little Lonsdale Street and Collins Street, as it was between Sydney’s Darling Harbour and Wexford Street, and the comparable Macquarie Street’s wealthy club society. 377 This kilometre today would seem to have changed in perception from a similar distance a century ago. 378 A walk or hansom cab journey from a gentleman’s club or ladies coffee lounge to the brothel district of Little Lon’ and the disreputable characters of Little Bourke Street in Melbourne, or Darlinghurst and Wexford Street in Sydney, must have seemed like travelling to another world. 379 Culturally, it really would have been another world and no doubt writers such as Dennis and Lawson exaggerated the different social and cultural characteristics for effect. 380 The question posed by Gould and White: “If you had a free choice, where would you live?” 381 is recognised as speculative, since not only does this question vary with different peoples from different eras, but with the ideals and cultural ideologies that people absorb from their own era. We now realise that the never-ending suburbia that became fashionable after Federation was a false ideology based on false premises. Poverty was endemic in the inner city in the lead up to Federation and beyond because 376 The Argus: 21 January 1905, p. 17. Sydney and Melbourne Population Statistics. “In his recently published work ‘A Statistical Account of Australia and New Zealand 1900-4’, Mr T A Coghlan, Government statist (sic) of New South Wales, deals at length with a favourite topic of his, the centralisation of population in cities. “The progress of the chief cities of Australasia has been remarkable, and has no parallel among the cities of the old world.” Neville Hicks: Sir Timothy Augustine Coghlan (1855-1926), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. Sir Timothy Coghlan, the NSW statistician and public servant was yet another aspirational identity from a working class Irish background who used both the expanding public school system and his own family and personal ambition to rise through the public service. “Coghlan contributed substantially to the public debate on the financial aspects of Federation. His insistence on safeguards for New South Wales influenced Reid and (Sir) William McMillan, and other members of the National Australasian Convention; but it alienated some 'ultra' Federationists—such as B. R. Wise—who favoured free trade, but were willing to 'sink the fiscal issue' if that would achieve Federation.” 377 Susie Steinbach: Understanding the Victorians, 2012, Routledge, Oxford, p. 20. “A key Victorian tension was between the city’s centre and its slums…between whom there is no intercourse (sic)…as if they were dwellers in different zones.” 378 Peter Gould and Rodney White: Mental Maps, 1974, Pelican Books, Harmondsworth, chapt. 1. UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 2, main roads maps 002, 009, and 007. Gregory’s Publishing Company: Sydney Street Directory 2011, maps A, B regional road maps 3, 4, 6. Even when walking, it appears to have been the case that people’s sense of distance was quite different; and coming from car-oriented Canberra to the centre of Melbourne, the disparity becomes even more noticeable. 379 Susie Steinbach: Understanding the Victorians, p. 20. “They [Maps Descriptive of London Poverty] revealed not only widespread poverty, but worrying proximity between the classes.” 380 However, they also would not have been noted as such by their readers if they were not based upon a commonly experienced reality. 381 Peter Gould and Rodney White: Mental Maps, 1974, Pelican Books, Harmondsworth, p. 69. http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/mcmillan-sir-william-1105 http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/mcmillan-sir-william-1105 http://adb.anu.edu.au/biography/wise-bernhard-ringrose-9161 214 the nation was in the grip of a depression: one that hit Melbourne particularly hard. 382 Working class districts were breeding grounds for disease because services such as sewerage had not kept pace with population, and had not been widely developed as public services in the first place. 383 As mentioned in chapter 14 of the Sydney march section of this thesis, the end result of suburbanisation is now manifest not only in debates regarding the endless expansion of major cities, but also by the fact that these very inner city suburbs that were the bane of government health inspectors and planners a century ago are now some of the most expensive and desirable residential areas in which to live. 384 10. RACE IS GOOD FOR BUSINESS Continuing west down Little Lonsdale Street and past Exhibition Street the footstepper now enters the Chinese quarter of the city. 385 This district has expanded south through Chinatown in Little Bourke Street, and certainly the whole area seems to have been a Chinese enclave from early times. 386 As with the Anglo Australians one block away in Little Lon’, it would surely have been the proximity to the markets that drew small manufacturers, traders and labourers to the neighbourhood. 387 The introductory chapter of C J Dennis’s The Moods of Ginger Mick; “Duck and Fowl”, while ostensibly depicting the brutal life of the larrikin, actually spends four and a half pages describing the Chinese restaurants and the food that was served in the district at the time. 388 The attitudes of the locals (at least as expressed by Dennis) towards the Chinese appear to be the off-handed dismissal of familiarity. Ah Foo and the “Chows” are regarded as an 382 Geoffrey Blainey: A Land Half Won, chapt. 20. 383 Peter Curson and Kevin McCracken: Plague in Sydney – the anatomy of an epidemic, pp. 83-84. 384 Brian Turner: The Australian Terrace House, p. 85. Descriptions of the inner city of Sydney, notably Paddington. “As one suburb became fashionable enough to drive its house prices beyond the reach of first-home buyers, the process was repeated in neighbouring areas with large stocks of unrestored nineteenth century houses. This pattern continues.” This closeness to the city now comes without the previously attended health concerns. The closely packed terraces houses continue to serve their original function of enabling large populations to reside in small areas, with the always acknowledged advantages in public transport, shopping, educational facilities and closeness to the city’s cultural institutions. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 55. 385 Photograph Booklet vol.2, pp. 56, 60. 386 Sheridan Morris: Melbourne Past and Present, 2008, Axiom Publishing, Adelaide, p. 118. 387 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, pp. 8-9. Almost the whole of Little Bourke Street, certainly east of Swanston Street consisted of Chinese businesses. 388 Clarence James Dennis: The Moods of Ginger Mick, 1976, Angus & Robertson, Sydney, pp. 15-19. Duck an’ Fowl. 215 amorphous group that is certainly not equal to the Anglo and Celtic Australians, but nor are they vile creatures to be cruelly discriminated against. 389 A level of tension toward Chinese immigrants certainly had existed since the time of the Gold Rushes, 390 and events overseas at the time of Federation sought to further muddy the waters. The same forces within China that had pushed Chinese peasant families to sponsor individuals to risk their lives and livelihoods in the goldfields of New South Wales and Victoria were creating similar social pressures back home. With the expansion of trade during the nineteenth century due to the same technical developments in shipping that led to the settlement of Australia in the first place, 391 luxury goods such as porcelain, silk, cotton and tea from China became all the rage in Europe. Racist attitudes expressed towards the Chinese throughout the century co- existed comfortably with the expanding vogue for Chinoiserie. 392 It was then this very fashion that fed the trade imbalance between Britain and China and led to so much conflict. 393 Rather than deplete her own reserves in paying for these goods, Britain created a circulatory trade pattern whereby China was “encouraged” to import opium from Britain’s other colonies on the sub-continent. What had been a trade imbalance in favour of China now became one detrimental to the Chinese, and as always, it was the peasants who paid the price. 394 This price was not just paid in China. Opium became a serious problem among both the Chinese and those who consorted with them in Australia. Opium dens flourished in the inner districts of both Sydney and Melbourne, and death from opium addiction became as common as the usual death from the results of alcohol. 395 389 Clarence James Dennis: Selected Verse of C J Dennis, p. 83. The Crusaders. 390 Melbourne Argus: 17 March 1858, p. 7. Even at this time, concern was being expressed over the huge and increasing population from the “Celestial Empire”. 391 Marshall: The Cambridge Illustrated History of the British Empire, p. 33. 392 Peter Gay: Age of Enlightenment, 1966, Time-Life International, Amsterdam, The Netherlands, p. 60. 393 Peter James Marshall: Cambridge Illustrated History of the British Empire, pp. 3, 103. 394 The Sydney Morning Herald: 17 January 1902, p. 6. China and the Boxers. “The Empress Dowager, who is represented as having fully recovered her influence over the Emperor, seems according to our cables this morning to be pursuing her old policy with necessary modifications. With one hand she repressed the Boxers and with the other she helps them. She has, like certain European monarchs who have been restored to the throne, learnt nothing and forgotten nothing.” Bob Nicholls: Bluejackets & Boxers, 1986, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, p. 1. Nicholls points out the degree to which Chinese society was undermined by the situation. This was reflected in the degree to which the Empress Dowager was caught in the middle: trying to keep the more powerful Europeans satisfied, preserve her own country, and preserve her own traditional political power. 395 The Sydney Morning Herald: 24 April 1888, p. 3. An even-handed Herald mentions the death of both vegetable hawker Ah Jack from opium and Luke Hay, farmer from Ryde, from the effects of alcohol. 216 Poverty and social discord in China increased, and newspapers of the day recorded the exasperation of the ordinary Chinese, as violence against those symbols of European incursion, the Christian missionaries, increased. The Sydney Morning Herald noted the degree to which Christian evangelical zeal and insensitivity entered deeper into China, acting as a provocation to violence. 396 The I-ho-ch’uan (the Righteous and Harmonious Fists), or Boxers, were one of many dissident organisations that arose using what we might think of as an aberration of Kung Fu and Shaolin teachings to both provide a sense of unity, and afford intended physical imperviousness to European weapons. 397 Their fanaticism knew no limits: “A Boxer’s battle cry was a simple, uncomplicated, even catchy, ‘Sha! Sha!’ (Kill, Kill).” 398 The North China Daily News, which originally coined the term “Boxers” claimed that, “there is no doubt at all about its [the Boxer secret society] aim – to get rid of the foreigners in China by killing them all.” 399 Accounts that began with the prosaic short Argus pieces in September 1900, mentioned both promises by “Li Hung Chang [the powerful pro-western Chinese administrator who aided the European nations to defeat the Boxers], who still remains at Shanghai…to take vigorous measures to restore order in China, to protect foreigners and to punish the Boxers”, led to coverage of the subsequent slaughter of some two thousand Boxers near Beijing by local authorities. 400 By May 1900, the foreign powers had had enough and some two thousand sailors and marines from eight European nations and the United States landed near Taku on the Chinese coast. Events escalated and by 21 June the Chinese Army came out in support of the Boxers and besieged the foreign legations in Beijing. 401 British Secretary for the Colonies, Joseph Chamberlain requested assistance and although Australia, like Britain herself, had her land forces fully engaged in South Africa, the colonies sought to almost 396 The Sydney Morning Herald: 22 June 1900, p. 5. The Position in China. “Christianity is regarded as one of these foreign influences, which accounts for the recent murder of native Christians in the populous district mid-way between Peking and Pao-ting. These Chinese Christians, men women and children – were barbarously killed because, in the opinions of the Boxers, they had acted as traitors.” Understandable sympathy on the part of Europeans for the fate of abandoned children was countered by the thoughtless erection of Christian steeples that upset the feng shui of local surroundings. 397 Peter Fleming: The Siege at Peking, 1959, Rupert Hart-Davis, London, pp. 38, 49-51. 398 Bob Nicholls: Bluejackets & Boxers, 1986, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, p. 6. 399 The Sydney Morning Herald: 16 June 1900, p. 5. SMH: Boxers Preparing to Fight. SMH: 27 December 1900 p. 5. Boxers Attack a French Force. SMH: 17 January 1902. China and the Boxers. The issue remained in the press for the next year and a half at least. 400 The Argus: 3 September 1900, p. 5. 401 Nicholls: Bluejackets & Boxers 1986, pp. 8-9. 217 outdo each other in their willingness to offer support. 402 Two hundred men from the Victorian Navy, two hundred and sixty from NSW and one hundred crew members from the South Australian ship Protector embarked for China in September 1900. 403 Arriving too late to give effective assistance for the relief of the legations, the Australians performed only routine guard duty and eventually left in March 1901 having suffered six fatalities, none as a result of enemy action. 404 As was their experience with the Boer War, Australian military personnel would leave six independent colonies for China, and return to a newly federated nation. 405 While the newspapers of the day were covering these events in China, 406 their reports on the uprising concentrated on the political, terrorist and military aspects rather than underling racial tensions. There was little connection made between the Boxer uprising and the killing of Europeans in China, and the position of local Chinese in the Australian community. Internally, the Chinese themselves made more of a connection, with bitter battles fought in Australia between the various reform movements. 407 The Australian press itself seemed oblivious to the social tensions both within the Australian Chinese community, and within China itself, despite this initiating the nation’s offer of military assistance. The Daily Telegraph almost amusingly reported that, “A riot, said to be the most exciting since the historic affair of the Eureka stockade, occurred at Ballarat this afternoon…Chairs and tables were seized, and a rack containing spears used on feast days, was quickly emptied.” 408 The social discord being replicated in 402 Melbourne Argus: 22 November 1900, p. 5. With the Australians. Bob Nicholls: Bluejackets & Boxers, 1986, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, pp. 24-25. 403 Dennis et al: Oxford Companion to Australian Military History 1995, Oxford University Press, Melbourne, p. 117. 404 Major E W M Norie: Official Account of Military Operations in China 1900-1901, 1995, The Battery Press, Nashville. The limited impact of Australia’s role can best be judged by the four brief mentions in the index; comparable to that of Austria. 405 The Sydney Morning Herald: 22 May 1901, p. 7. Bob Nicholls: Bluejackets & Boxers, 1986, Allen & Unwin, Sydney, p. 51. One of the overlooked but significant effects of the military mission to the Boxer Rebellion was the early (and primitive) use of inoculation against smallpox. Although this would prove to be as significant as Ashburton Thompson’s implementation of procedures to counter plague the very same year, few of the press reports of the time appear to mention the fact that the troops were given “lymph from the Sydney Health Board collected prior to sailing”. The effectiveness of this early form of inoculation was undercut a little by the fact that one of the six who died was Private Charles Walter Smart, who actually succumbed to smallpox upon returning to Australia, and was buried at North Head Quarantine Station. 406 The Argus: 13 August 1900, p. 5. One example of the numerous press reports from the major daily newspapers in all capital cities. Help from Australia. “HMCS Protector, with the South Australian naval contingent, left Sydney for Thursday Island en route to China this morning.” 407 The Queanbeyan Age: 19 December 1900, p. 2. 408 The Daily Telegraph: 18 December 1900. 218 Australia was viewed as just another internal clan and criminal faction turf war that was unfortunately also a common occurrence. 409 It should have come as no surprise that the same quixotic multi-layered attitude should have applied to the representation of Chinese culture during the Federation celebrations in Melbourne. As was the case with the Chinese quarters in both Sydney and Melbourne, so it was with the Chinese Arch in Swanston Street. Although the Federation parades passed by, they did not actually enter into these districts or pass under the arch since it was located one laneway back up Swanston Street, adjacent to Little Bourke Street and the western end of Chinatown. 410 However, The Age informed its readers of the planned proceedings for the Chinese procession on the same pages as the prelude to the Stockman’s march; both taking place on 7 May, the day after the main Monday parade. Assembling time in Little Bourke Street was to be 2.30pm; all vehicular traffic was halted in Bourke Street and Swanston Streets, and trams restricted for both these processions. Although held the day after the main celebratory march, the Chinese procession was reported as a high point of the Federation celebrations in Melbourne. According to The Age, “Probably 200,000 people witnessed and enjoyed the Chinese procession through the principal streets of Melbourne.” 411 Certainly photographs of the time show the large number of people who filled the Bourke Street precinct for the later Chinese Parade. 412 There was a similar recognition and even admiration for the exotic attraction of Chinese culture as there was with Italian and French. The Argus of the following day summed up the mixture of cultural attraction and social condescension that many Australians felt for the Chinese. As The Argus commented: If there is any virtue that can be laid at the doors of the Chinese, it is that responsible for first-class processions. The cold-blooded Westerner many be ignorant of Chinese lore, incapable of fathoming the deep symbolism of their pageants, and impressed by noting but amused contempt for Chinese militarism; but one thing is certain, when he sees the 409 The Sydney Morning Herald: 29 April 1880, p. 5. 410 UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 2. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 58. 411 The Age: 8 May 1901, p. 8. 412 The Age: 7, 8 May 1901. 219 commencement of a Chinese procession he will not turn away until the crowd sweeps over the opening to signify that no more is to be seen. 413 Rather than a dismissed aversion to Chinese culture, the attitude expressed seemed remarkably similar to the mix of patronising and genuine interest that was shown towards Southern European culture during the 1950s and 1960s or towards Asian and Middle Eastern culture today. “There was not a jarring note in yesterday’s procession,” noted The Bulletin, “unless it was that of the Chinese bands…Its main features were placed in positions carefully selected , and were approached by contrasts enhancing their value.” 414 There was actually an assumed appreciation of Chinese religious knowledge when it came to describing the Chinese Dragon, 415 although significantly, The Argus gave a hint of underlying racism. “In all countries water is regarded as the special abomination of all properly constituted dragons…The battle was conducted most effectively and forgetting for once [my emphasis] White Australia, the people rose, and gave the clever Chinese the cheers they deserved.” 416 Even so, as Humphry McQueen admits, attitudes of concern toward the Chinese were not merely the result of Anglo imagination. “Racism in Australia was not a response to a tiny minority. Although the percentage of Chinese in the total population of Australia remained small, there were times and places when they were in the majority.” 417 This situation was to change, however. At their height in 1872, 14,148 Chinese miners were in the Victorian goldfields, and from this date there was a decrease to 5,193 by 1880. In the same year the Chinese population of Melbourne was listed as only 500, with 380 in the suburbs; a rather small number out of a population of 280,000 in Melbourne and 850,343 for the whole of Victoria. 418 By 1901 this figure was down to 6,230 in Victoria, with even fewer in both New South Wales and Queensland. 419 413 The Argus: 8 May 1901, p. 8. 414 The Bulletin: 24 February 1900, p. 13. As always, this irrepressible magazine managed in one cartoon to exemplify social condescension and underlying gross eroticism toward both the Chinese and lower class women. Two buxom ladies looking at a rather dopey [or doped out] Chinese man. “Liz (who is not unwilling): There ain’t so much the matter with his face. You’ve never seen it when it lights up.” 415 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 59. 416 The Argus: 8 May 1901, p. 8. 417 Humphrey McQueen: A New Britannia, 2004, p. 38. “This was the case in some of the southern New South Wales goldfields in the 1860s. At the Palmer river diggings near Cooktown in 1877, the Chinese outnumbered the Europeans by 17,000 to 14,000…Most important was the fact that in the mid 1850s one adult male in five in Victoria had been Chinese. 418 The Argus: 9 June 1880, p. 10. 419 Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, p. 108. 220 The previously mentioned issue of Chinese-made furniture seems to have been primarily a fear of the loss of white Australian jobs. Whether this was due to cheaper labour, more industrious labour, or a preference for the Chinese furniture’s level of quality and style, the Sands & McDougall Directory implies that by 1901 this was virtually a lost cause. Market Lane in the middle of Little Bourke Street’s Chinatown almost totally comprised Chinese furniture and carpenter shops. 420 Notable among the number of Chinese manufacturers were San Lee & Co, Ah Hoy and Wing Loong, with Charles Ah Pon in the equally cramped Commercial Lane (now Croft Alley) 421 down the road. Ironically, in view of the reported attitudes towards the Chinese regarding health and cleanliness, 422 these many small enterprises shared the same laneway address as The Melbourne Sanitary Engineering Company. 423 It would therefore appear that a large part of the furniture purchased by the good citizens of the city at the time must have been manufactured by Chinese, or Chinese Australians. 424 Even though there was a concerted campaign against this, the recent State Factories Act 425 precluded the stamping of furniture on the basis of its manufacture, so there arose the eternal quandary expressed by The Argus that; “The best furniture built by Chinese is rotten rubbish, and this Factory Act, 426 by tying the white man’s hands and letting the Chinese free, compels the public to buy the produce of Chinese labour, for they have practically very little else to offer.” 427 Yet people still 420 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 3. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 60. 421 UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 2. 422 The Argus: 3 October 1874, p. 4. “…the Chinese do not appear to have the slightest notions of cleanliness and sanitation.” The Argus: 27 May 1863, p. 4. This earlier edition gives an alternative opinion.” Both the interior of the two [fishermen’s] huts and the adjacent ground are remarkably clean, and quite contradict the ordinary impression of the Chinese being dirty in their homes.” It would appear that, as in the case with the Darling Harbour district of Sydney, the Chinese were living in squalid conditions, but that individual circumstances and standards varied greatly. 423 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 3. 424 Stuart Ward: Australia and the British Embrace, 2001, Melbourne University Press, Melbourne, p. 139. Note the disparaging attitude towards the Chinese furniture manufacturer, despite the obvious fact that many Australians were purchasing Chinese made goods. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 61. 425 Australian Bureau of Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, p. 1046. This 1896 Act was one of many introduced to protect working conditions and working establishments. “The first Australian Factories Act was passed in 1873 in Victoria and became law on 1 January 1874.” 426 The 1896 Victorian Factories Act set minimum wages (of 50 shillings per week for a journeyman) and maximum hours of work, but did not discriminate between who was performing the work. 427 The Argus: 14 November 1901, p. 8. 221 preferred to purchase Chinese goods, 428 and there arose the ongoing contradiction of people willing to separate a practical and artistic interest in antiquity and the purchase of necessities and luxuries from foreign cultures, while at the same time more than ready to theoretically discriminate against (or at least acquiesce to the discrimination of) the very people who produce these items. The Sydney Morning Herald had earlier reported the same situation in NSW. “Mr Cutler, secretary of the United Furniture Trades Society, said that the servants’ quarters in the Governor General’s establishment were furnished with furniture made by Chinese. Some time ago one of the public institutions was furnished with Chinese made goods, and a promise was then given that such a thing should not happen again.” 429 This was certainly not the first time that such a complaint had been made. Seven years earlier The Herald reported that that the same Mr Cutler and other Trade Society representatives introduced a deputation to NSW Premier Reid urging the introduction of a Factories and Workshops Bill to regulate the lodging houses of Europeans and Chinese. Noted The Herald; “In the suburbs Chinamen were in the habit of working at gardening all day and then putting in several hours of the night furniture making. In a number of instances in the city the Chinese were nominally paid the current rate of wages – say 30 shillings per week and their board and lodging but the board was of the most meagre character, and as for the lodging it frequently happened that some 30 or 40 of them would be accommodated with bunks in the workshop.” 430 It would appear that concern here was not only for sustaining the wages and conditions of Australian furniture makers, but also for the conditions under which many of the Chinese themselves worked. 431 This concern was, unfortunately, compromised by trades unions themselves equivocating over allowing Chinese workers to join and thereby being absorbed into the 428 The Argus: 5 December 1881, p. 9. “The making of chairs is entirely done by the Chinese…In the goldfields districts they are still regarded as a useful class of men, and many European farmers are glad to depend on them for vegetables, as by doing so time is economised.” 429 The Sydney Morning Herald: 15 February 1901, p. 3. 430 The Sydney Morning Herald: 23 August 1894, p. 2. 431 John Rickard: Australia – a cultural history, p. 108. And it was not just the Chinese who found themselves in this position. “Trade union and liberal opposition to the introduction of Asian or Melanesian labour drew on humanitarian concern about the connotation of slavery, particularly when recruitment was more akin to kidnapping. But more generally it reflected an increasingly strident obsession that the continent should be kept racially pure: beneath its banner, ‘Australia for the white man’, The Bulletin promoted a relentless and vicious brand of jocular racism.” 222 protective social structures being established. 432 “The furniture trade had been particularly hard-hit by the depression [of the early 1890s], and piece work was increasingly being introduced. But when Melbourne Chinese struck against wage cuts in 1892, the union shunned them.” 433 This all seemed at one with the bewildering attitudes applied to non-British communities within Australia. 434 Attitudes towards other races were various and varying even within the Federation celebrations , with The Age reporting both a familiarity towards royalty expressed by a Jewish observer and offhand attitudes towards Germans and Chinese in a piece that efficiently managed to mildly denigrate all three races in the one paragraph: The Queen’s Arch has been rechristened by Jehu, who is stationed thereabouts, as the Cabman’s Arch: an anaemic-faced German youth or two is to seen near the arch their countrymen have erected; and the bland faced Celestial forsakes his proverbial vacuity of expression, and condescends to look quizzically interested as a brother Mongolian deftly twines some costly silken fabric of heliotrope hue about his own curious, pagoda fashioned decoration. 435 11. VICE REGAL MELBOURNE From the bustle of the eastern city, the Chinese, market and underclass district of Little Bourke and Little Lonsdale Streets, the parade now travelled west along Bourke Street through the commercial and shopping precinct between Swanston Street and Elizabeth Street, before preparing to rise up the hill to the west. It was here that the Ducal Arch was situated. As with most of the other arches along the Melbourne parade route, there does not appear to have been any particular logic or geographical rationale for placing this structure at this location, apart from the flatness of the roadway and the closeness to the city’s retail hub, and the recently erected General Post Office. 436 The Ducal Arch itself was given a naval flavour, bearing homage to the “Sailor Prince” George’s 432 Ann Curthoys and Andrew Markus: Who are our Enemies? chapt. 7. Exclusivism and Unionism. Humphrey McQueen: A New Britannia, 2004, p. 38. “One of the consequences of this Act [the 1896 Victorian Factories and Shops Act] was the formation of a Chinese Workers’ Union which immediately demanded higher wages. Although assisted by the Furniture Trades Union, the Chinese were refused affiliation with the Melbourne Trades Hall Council.” 433 Ann Curthoys and Andrew Markus: Who are our Enemies? p. 72. 434 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 69. 435 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 8. 436 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 65. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 63. 223 connection with the Royal Navy. 437 Designed by architect G H B Austin, the very non- classical, almost Art Nouveau curvaceous structure would have been a remarkable sight, covered in red and blue velveteen, and trimmed gold. 438 The side supports contained images of the Duke and Duchess, the future King George V and Queen Mary. 439 Perhaps spectators would have almost subconsciously absorbed a connection with the elaborate richness of the structure and the luxurious material and clothing available in the shops on either side of the road. Although the parades took place a decade or so before the construction of the major department stores such as Myers that now dominate the northern side of the street, this was still the heart of retail commerce and the centre of the clothing and footwear trade. No doubt the trade link with the workshops and clothing manufacturers one and a half blocks south towards the river in Flinders Lane would have had bearing on the siting of these stores. 440 One interesting business that was operating in 1901 at this point, between 300-310 Bourke Street, was Buckley & Nunn Proprietary Ltd, importers and drapers. 441 This was, however prior to the later 1934 construction of the present glorious Art Deco building that still bears their name. 442 Much has been made over the years as to whether the name of this company is the source of the well-known Australian expression; “Buckley’s and None”, indicating that an event has essentially “little or no chance of occurring”. 443 Since “Buckley’s chance” apparently referred to the slim chance of survival of escaped convict William Buckley who had lived with Aboriginal people between 1803 and 1835, 444 and thus predated the clothing firm by over half a century, it would appear to be quite probable that the addition of the “and None” was a rather typically Australian play on the well-recognised commercial name. 445 What was also amusingly typical, although certainly not uniquely Australian was the name of the establishment next door at number 290 Bourke Street; the building 437 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 10. 438 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – the story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, pp. 78-79. 439 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 63. 440 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 64. 441 J Ann Hone: Mars Buckley (1825-1905), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 64. 442 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 67. Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 3. 443 Frederick Ludowyk: Buckley’s Chance, Ozwords database, Australian National Dictionary Centre, Australian National University, Canberra. 444 Marjorie J Tipping: William Buckley (1780-1856), Australian Dictionary of Biography online database. 445 The Argus: 7 March 1856, p. 7. “A short notice appeared announcing the death of William Buckley, who for thirty-two years lived amongst the natives of this colony prior to its settlement.” 224 that would be later demolished for the new Buckley & Nunn emporium. We tend to think of artificially created heritage as a modern phenomenon, yet here was Mrs Minnie De Faro’s “Ye Olde Albion Bar”, 446 managing in four words to encapsulate a link to a rather out of place Olde Worlde charm, a direct connection to the Motherland and memories of “home”, and the offer of a cold beer to the parade spectators on a hot antipodean day. One other point of significance passed by the marchers at this end of Bourke Street, although now long gone, would have been the city’s Jewish Synagogue. This notable structure was located at number 472 Bourke Street, adjacent to Little Queen Street; formerly Synagogue Lane. 447 The very traditional and classical building contrasted with the more ornate, almost oriental aspect of Sydney’s Synagogue, although both structures emphasise the degree to which the local and substantial Jewish population wished to conform architecturally to the general fashion of time. That this religious centre, including the Hebrew Congregational School should have sat next to the Hibernian Australian Catholic Benefit Society and the St Francis branch of the Catholic Young Men’s Society would again point to a society where the level of intolerance was perhaps not all that pervasive in everyday life. 448 The Synagogue was demolished in 1929 when the congregation moved out to St Kilda, still the hub of Melbourne’s Jewish culture. The subsequent Equity Trustees Building was erected on the site just in time for the Great Depression of the 1930s, and now contains the Monash University Law Chambers; itself symbolically named for the great Jewish Australian military leader and public engineer. One concern that would have been brought to mind by the military nature of this particular arch, and one that was obviously on the minds of the event organisers, was the ever-present threat of assassination. While the 1868 attempt on the life of Prince Albert in Sydney was viewed as an aberration, 449 concerns over Irish Nationalist threats would have no doubt been behind Melbourne Archbishop Thomas Joseph Carr’s sermon at St Patrick’s Cathedral on the Sunday prior to the march. Likening Federation to the “political baptism of the Commonwealth of Australia”, Carr went on to state; 446 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 3. 447 UBD Australia: Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 1. Only Melbourne: Melbourne Lanes online database. 448 Sands & McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 4. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 65. 449 Dictionary of Sydney: Assassination attempt on Prince Alfred 1868 online database. 225 And the minister of that baptism would be his Royal Highness the Duke of Cornwall and York, who would dedicate the Commonwealth to the glory of God and the service of the people. [That] as members of the Catholic Church, they [the Catholic hierarchy] would do their part to assist at the celebrations and in future time to prove themselves amongst the most loyal adherents and most fervent supporters of all that would be needed to increase the strength and glory of United Australia. 450 In the end, there appeared to have been little threat even from dedicated Fenians, although many Irish Australians retained a sentiment for a free and united Ireland. According to Keith Amos, “a crowd of 20 000 gathered at Sydney Showground in 1912 to celebrate St Patrick’s Day, all joined in singing ‘God Save Ireland’, the Fenian hymn of 1867.” 451 However, the sole former Fenian convict living in Melbourne after Federation, Hugh Brophy had already “established himself successfully as a building contractor, and in later years was also a clerk of works.” Former Fenian John Flood also settled into a productive middle class life in Queensland after 1872 and became captain of Gympie’s company of the Queensland Irish Volunteers. When challenged about adopting the Queen’s uniform in view of his rebel past, he responded: “I was never a disloyalist [sic]. If we had had the government in Ireland that we have here, I should have been wearing the Queen’s uniform all my life.” 452 By the end of the 1800s, it was not just Irish Nationalists who were perceived to be a potential threat to well-ordered society. The rise of the ordered Socialist movement through the nineteenth century, which sought to use the same political institutions as Capitalism but for different ends, inevitably contained within itself the polar opposite; Anarchism. Harking back to a more romantic ideal, Anarchism sought to replace ordered monarchies and ordered oligarchies not with equally ordered social elites who would act “in the best interests of working people”, 453 but with formally unordered 450 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 9. 451 Keith Amos: The Fenians in Australia (1865-1880), 1988, University of NSW Press, Sydney, p. 281. Which concluded with the refrain: “Never till the latest day, Shall the memory pass away, Of the gallant lives thus give for our land…” 452 Keith Amos: The Fenians in Australia (1865-1880), p. 282. Gerald Patrick Fitzgerald, son of a Limerick Fenian who had fled to America after the failed rising of 1867, spent his life as a career Commonwealth public servant before writing a history of Australian Fenian connections. 453 Communist Party of Australia: 1948 online database. “Communism is in the best interests of the Australian People” by Edgar Argent Ross. Ross himself represented this culturally, if not politically, accommodating side of the Communist movement in Australia, often appearing on the very commercial radio station 2UE during the 1940s. 226 societies. Along with Socialism itself, Anarchism encompassed a wide range of ideologies from theoretical idealism to a more fanatical form of direct action. While deplored by theoreticians such as George Woodcock and political activists such as Emma Goldman, assassinations committed in the name of Anarchism fuelled a public fear of radical ideology. As Woodcock noted in his classic study, highly publicised assassinations did “enormous harm” to the Anarchist cause by “implanting in the popular mind an identification which lingers long after its justification has vanished.” 454 Such actions performed in the name of Anarchism did much to destroy public support, 455 and as the press of the day stated: “The police are not unmindful of the possibility of an attempt being made on the life of the Duke of Cornwall and York during his visit to Australia” although “the risk is considered much less from the fact that Australia is far removed from the hotbeds of anarchy.” 456 Needless to say, the editor of The Age continued: “No effort will be spared to afford the Royal visitors every possible protection. While it is recognised that the Anarchist does not wear his heart on his sleeve, or carry his bombshell conspicuously, pains will be taken to detect any suspicious movements on the part of foreigner or others.” 457 Thus the large police and military presence at both the Sydney and Melbourne marches was obviously not there just for crowd control or ceremonial presentation, but reflected a genuine concern over the possibility of assassination of dignitaries and the attendant risk to the thousands of spectators. The large number of troops present at both Federation parades would therefore have been designed to generate a general feeling of well-being. Part of the justification for the Federation of Australia in the first place was that of the effective defence of the continent. Defence matters had become of far greater import to the colonies with British withdraw of land military forces from Australia after August 1870; 458 the colonies essentially being thrown back onto their own resources for all but blue water naval defence. 459 The arrival of the overland telegraph in 1872 that now constantly reminded Australians of the outside world, and the recently amplified the German 454 George Woodcock: Anarchism, 1962, Penguin Books, Harmondsworth, p. 14. 455 Emma Goldman: Anarchism and other essays, 1969, Dover Publications, New York, chapt. 3 The psychology of political violence. 456 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 457 The Age: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 458 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, pp. 189-190. 459 Dennis, Grey, Morris, Prior: The Oxford Companion to Australian Military History, pp. 121-124. The British Army in Australia. 227 nation’s imperialist intentions in the Pacific all served to keep the issue of defence in the public’s mind. 460 The communication and transport technologies that enabled imagined communities to become practical nations also placed additional practical threats on these same societies. The socially irresponsible and destructive were just as capable of imagining their own communities, and utilising these same modern developments to their own ends. As with the Sydney parade, the numbers of military personnel were significant, with twelve thousand soldiers and cadets taking part. These not only made up a substantial part of the more than two thousand yards, or two kilometre, length of the cavalcade, 461 but also a significant part of the pre-march logistical organisation. Even before the event, the large number of military personnel had to be accommodated and kept occupied. As The Age noted: At Royal Park the whole vast infantry camp is now in apple pie order. All the tents are stretched and repatched, trenched and furnished, and as there are over 1,400 men in camp, the scene is beginning to wear a lively and warlike [sic] air…The men are very pleased to find that there are no field kitchens to dig, no wood or water to fetch, no extra work to do, and no trouble to take as to cooking and kindred jobs. The Contractors are doing all that, and doing it well, too. 462 The scene presented was perhaps just a little too bucolic, knowing the predicaments that unoccupied soldiers and sailors can get themselves into. But what is more ridiculous than some of the pickles into which Jack Tar gets himself? He is a noteworthy convivial fellow ashore, and has managed to obtain leave somehow, and rolls along unsteadily, but manages to steer clear of collisions. Here is another of him bowling along wearing a busby that belongs to the Herculean highlander who follows and hides a meek capacious smile from beneath Jack’s straw hat. 463 460 The Sydney Morning Herald: 29 June 1870, p. 5. The Overland Telegraph. “A Register publishes a telegram received from the Agent-General in England, and also a letter from Commander Osborn, on the subject of the overland telegraph to Port Darwin, to connect with the submarine cable.” This was the beginning of the Australian enterprise to construct the telegraph line from Darwin to Adelaide and the southern capitals. The final connection was made in October 1872. 461 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 9. 462 The Age: 1 May 1901, p. 8. 463 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 8. 228 The military presence was therefore regarded as most significant in both Federation Parades. The Argus published an article specifically listing the various uniforms of the major military contingents so that the parade spectators would know; “How to Distinguish the Uniforms.” 464 The notion that military authorities tend to lag behind the times appeared at variance with public expectations however, with both the soldiers themselves and The Argus appearing uncomfortable with the exigencies of war in the age of the machine gun. The West Australian mounted men are somewhat disappointed, because they have not had time to obtain brighter uniforms than their field service khaki. They are all men who have lately returned from South Africa, and the garb they wear will be what they wore through the campaign. They may rest assured that the people of Australia will think none the less of them, and cheer them none the less heartily for that. 465 12. WOOL AND HERITAGE From the substantial climb up Bourke Street after the Ducal Arch, the Melbourne march now would have reached William Street and the north-eastern extremity of Batman Hill. Although the parade was over a kilometre in length along the two main thoroughfares of Bourke and Collins Streets, the location of most of the arches was restricted to a small four hundred metre square centred either side of Swanston Street. No doubt this was partly to accommodate to the topography, where one would imagine that steep roadways would make arches more difficult to construct, or at least more unstable. Consequently, this half block from the top of Bourke Street, down William Street and into the top of Collins Street was devoid of arches and formal ceremonial sites, even though it would have surely been recognised at the time as the business district of the city. 466 When finally arriving at William Street, it also becomes obvious to the footstepper why the parade was planned to turn left and follow this road back down to 464 The Argus: 4 May 1901, p. 15. 465 The Argus: 4 May 1901, p.15. This of course contrasts with later military parades, notably through the streets of Sydney during the Second World War and the Vietnam War, where it was the drab olive woollen and cotton field service uniforms that gave such a sense of pride to both soldiers and spectators alike. 466 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, pp. 7, 8, 9, 15, 16, 22, 23, 66, 67. This entire half block consists almost entirely of financial, business and trading houses, banks and insurance companies. No doubt the proximity to the Law Courts and legal centre of the city one block north on Lonsdale Street was of significance, as well as the proximity to the old docks on the Yarra River. 229 Collins Street. As well as the natural symmetry of balancing the route with three city blocks on either side of Swanston Street, William Street forms a ridge running down towards the slopes of the Yarra River. Travelling any further west, the parade would have gone down another slope towards the Spencer Street Railway Station, a slope that the march would have had to return back up again to return to Swanston Street. 467 On the inside of this William Street corner stood at the time one of the city’s notable structures: the Menzies’ Hotel. 468 Although now replaced by the modern BHP House, 469 this hotel would no doubt have served a similar purpose to the up-market boarding houses along Sydney’s Macquarie Street; that of providing temporary city accommodation for country folk coming to the city by train, since it would have been only a short walk up from Spencer Street, now Southern Cross, Railway Station. The hotel thus had connections with the famous and the powerful throughout much of its existence. Early in the Pacific Theatre of the Second World War, the hotel hosted General Douglas MacArthur, prior to his permanent move closer to the action in Brisbane. One apocryphal tale also had the boilers in the hotel being stoked by Mark Twain while on his lecture tour of Australia prior to Federation in 1895. 470 Although forced to make a world-wide tour to recoup financial publishing losses, one would suspect that the sixty year old would not really have had to engage in such strenuous manual work to merely survive and that the episode, had it occurred, was one of affectation. 471 If the hotel’s name has a familiar ring to it, then of course it is also that of one of Melbourne’s most famous and influential sons, former Prime Minister Sir Robert Menzies. In reality, there was apparently no connection between the Archibald Menzies who established the hotel in 1867 and the western Victorian family from which the political leader hailed. This did not prevent Sir Robert’s young daughter, Heather from reading out the hotel’s name on one of their excursions into the city and asking, full of 467 UBD Australia: UBD Melbourne Street Directory 2008, map 1. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 70. 468 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 71. 469 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, pp. 53-54. Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 8. 470 Wilde, Hooton, Andrews: The Oxford Companion to Australian Literature, p. 765. The Argus: 20 September 1895, p. 8. Mark Twain. “Bijou Theatre, Friday 27 th September. First appearance in Melbourne of the author of ‘Innocents Abroad’.” 471 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 61. 230 astonishment; “Daddy, is that yours already!” 472 What is more telling is the entry on BHP House in the National Trust of Australia’s booklet: Walking Melbourne. Although keen to point out other heritage sites within the Bourke Street and William Street precinct, no mention is made of the original occupant of this corner, even though the Menzies Hotel was not demolished until the early 1970s. 473 William Street in 1901 embodied the degree to which Australia rode on the sheep’s back and the backs of those who had money to invest in agriculture. The massive Goldsborough Mort grain and wool warehouse stood opposite the Menzies Hotel, while the Gray’s Building running down the western side of William Street was filled with auctioneers, agents and pastoral companies such as Campbell and Felton. 474 The Melbourne branch of the Australian Club was also found here, at 102 William Street; 475 and it remains to this day, a hub for the financial elite of society. 476 Whatever one’s views of rapacious capitalism may be, one surely has to admit that such buildings shown in the photograph booklet add to the elegance and splendour of the city, a theme that will be repeated further around the corner. The club itself appears to have transformed from a residential abode for the wealthy and powerful to primarily an eating establishment, although even their website still discriminates between members and the public. 477 Again, this instance reflects an evolution in the role of the city over the course of a century: from a place to live, work and shop every day in 1901, to somewhere only to work and shop in the 1950s, to now a place to visit on special occasions for celebratory meals. As the marchers turned from William Street south and back into Collins Street they would have passed the Western Markets of the city. 478 As with many of these more mundane but necessary structures of the day, few images remain, although this was one of the three major market sites within the city. Unlike the ‘Paddy’s’ Eastern Market; the Bourke Street haunt of Ginger Mick, the Western Market appeared to have been a 472 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 60. 473 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, pp. 53-54. Perhaps the evocative power and aversion to the Menzies name still holds sway in many circles today. Still, it is rather apt that the parade should now have entered the commercial and capitalist heart of the city at this significant site. 474 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 67. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 70. 475 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 74. 476 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 67. 477 The Australian Club: Public Site online database. 478 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 75. 231 far more civilised affair. 479 The Eastern Market had more in common with the current Victoria Markets on the north eastern corner of the city, while these Western Markets with their Victorian Romanesque formality may well have been an inspiration for the Queen Victoria Building in Sydney. This distinction becomes even more apparent when we look at what had become of the original 1842 edifice. While one boot maker, A J Carnaby, remained on site, by 1901 the rest of the building had been converted to offices for merchants, architects and trade and finance brokers. 480 No doubt the same general movement out to the suburbs that was evident in Sydney at the time was also beginning in Melbourne, leaving those supplying the more mundane everyday services with fewer customers. The old Western Market building was finally demolished in 1961, and the current AXA Centre erected on the site. 481 Even these markets were not the first institution to occupy the 455 Collins Street site. Jeff and Jill Sparrow dedicate a chapter of their heritage publication to the original 1840s function of the block, that of housing Melbourne’s first gaol. 482 It was also at this location, opposite the now small Market Street intersection that the Butter Arch was located. 483 As mentioned by Tessa Milne, this arch was the only one along the Melbourne route that represented an Australian industry. 484 While Sydney’s arches embodied an eclectic mix of three nationalities (French, American and German) and three industries (Coal, Wool and Wheat), the arches in Melbourne were primarily social and regal (Municipal, Citizens’, King’s, Queen’s and Ducal). I would argue that Sydney was celebrating the creation of a new nation and wanting to both represent this nation to itself, and to feel a new found sense of solidarity with those other centres of European culture that had recently become united modern states. 485 Hence the added links with France and America through their arches and with Canada and Italy through their cars indicated a sense of looking outward to the wider world, and 479 Walking Melbourne: Melbourne’s Lost Markets online database. 480 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 23. 481 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 53. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 76. 482 Jeff and Jill Sparrow: Radical Melbourne, vol.1, chapt. 8, p. 44. 483 The Argus: 26 March 1901, p. 6. The Butter Arch. “Mr D Buzolich, chairman of the citizen’s committee, yesterday received information from Mr Fitts, architect, that the design for the arch to represent the butter industry had been approved of. The arch will be erected in Collins Street, between Market Street and William Street.” Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 77. 484 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 79. 485 The incentive for these other nationalities’ arches invariably came from the foreign nations themselves, or from their representatives and communities in Australia. 232 wishing to be accepted by other unified nations. Footstepping revealed a nation intent on becoming part of an international community that offered opportunities, but one that also represented a level of threat. Melbourne, on the other hand, sensed the more immediate practical responsibility of now forming a government that could bring these hopes to a practical reality with their reliance upon British institutions and British security. This would have needed to be convincingly expressed to the society in general, and to those members within the local community who were perceived to be either a political or economic threat. That said; Melbourne’s parade did include one expression of agricultural activity and wealth, the Butter Arch. Although sited logically adjacent to the markets, the structure itself does not appear to have been overly inspiring, if judged by the descriptions given at the time. Money had been difficult to raise, with the country’s dairy producers showing “poor support …to subscriptions to pay for its construction [and] the cost had fallen on the shoulders of the Melbourne salesmen and export merchants.” 486 While featuring the usual mix of shields and coats of arms, the coarse medieval appearance of the arch was intensified by the use of eight thousand unpainted butter boxes; the daily output of the dairy industry in Victoria. 487 Even The Argus could not explain away the less than impressive result. “The main cost of erection has been borne by the city agents, exporters and merchants who supplied the novel and interesting [sic] materials.” 488 13. FINANCIAL MELBOURNE The lower end of Collins Street in 1901, as with the Collins Street of today, was the financial hub of Melbourne and what still strikes the footstepper is the interplay of institutions that held, and still hold sway over particularly, the western slope of the street. The Stock Exchange dominated the corner of Queens Street, 489 and remains today as an elegant and elaborate portion of the ANZ Banking Museum, 490 while other buildings between William and Elizabeth Street gloried under the names of Rothschild 486 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 80. 487 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 10. 488 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 10. 489 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 79. 490 Photograph Booklet vol.2 p. 80. 233 Chambers, Trustees Chambers and Temple Court. 491 However, these same blocks also included the Australian Widow’s Fund Building, Citizen’s Life Assurance Buildings and the Mutual Provident Buildings. 492 In the days before government assistance and unemployment relief, it was up to ordinary working people to put away insurance for a rainy day, and certainly the banking collapse a decade earlier, 493 would have further encouraged citizens to place their financial future in their own mutual organisations. 494 As was the case with the Coal Arch and the participation of trades unions in the Sydney Federation parade, one could argue that choosing to parade down this section of Collins Street unconsciously reflected the desire of the staunch respectable working class to refine and control capitalism, rather than do away with it through revolutionary activity. 495 As Davison states; “Building society propagandists aimed to give…the suburban ideology…substance by demonstrating with mathematical precision, how an ordinary Melburnian might acquire a House of His Own.” 496 No doubt the modern footstepper would also appreciate the need to balance working people’s budgets when they aspire to the security of home ownership. 497 The Temperance and General Life Assurance Society was one working class financial institution that was not represented along this part of Collins Street. Established in Swanston Street prior to Federation the initial headquarters of the T&G stood symmetrically between the Bourke Street and Collins Street route of the parade, and would have been glanced at as the marchers passed to and from Spring Street and Parliament House. 498 Their massive 1929 art deco structure would later be placed in Collins Street, but on the other side of the hill, leading back up to Spring Street. 499 Unlike the equally impressive social centre that existed on the corner of Park and Elizabeth Streets in Sydney, this structure still remains, if only as a façade. The T&G 491 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, pp. 15-16. 492 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, pp. 20-23. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 81. 493 W H Newnham: Melbourne – the Biography of a City, p. 30. 494 Deborah Tout-Smith: Melbourne – a City of Stories, p. 45. “Beyond Little Lon’, other Melbourne residents worked to create safer communities. In the absence of government support, benevolent Melburnians founded orphanages, aid societies, refuges, hospitals and other charitable institutions.” 495 Humphrey McQueen: A New Britannia, 2004, p. 211. “Respectability was the keystone of union organisation, especially where union membership was just one more way by which the urban tradesman could ensure that improvement of social standing so dear to his heart.” 496 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 178. 497 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 179. 498 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 81. 499 National Trust of Australia (Victoria): Walking Melbourne, p. 27. 234 was only one representation of this aspirational movement, having been founded as a Friendly and Temperance Society by the Independent Order of Rechabites. Allied to non-conformists, their forefathers recognised the previously mentioned dangers of basing social support institutions within the hotels that dotted the inner suburbs in both Sydney and Melbourne, and so created associations of their own, free from the reliance upon such sources of temptation. 500 Mechanics Institutes had formed the United Benefit Society as early as February 1839, stating that: “We can perceive nothing to cheer us in the prospect of sickness and adversity, except from our united efforts to save from our weekly earnings, such an amount as may form a fund to relieve those who may be unable to provide for themselves and their families the common necessaries of life.” 501 Eastwood notes that, “The ambitions of the people were overwhelmingly economic. Most free immigrants came to Australia to get on in the world, to do better in a financial sense than they could see themselves doing at home.” 502 While the absence of large scale persecution behind most of the immigration to Australia could be seen as obviously positive, the financial imperative placed its own burden upon those coming out to the new nation. If the new settlers failed to become as materially and financially successful as they and their relatives were back in Britain, then the whole rationale for their uprooting and moving across to the other side of the world, evaporated. This was most noticeable in Victoria where the depression of the 1890s had hit hard and was actually responsible for a net decrease in the number of arrivals over departures of over one hundred thousand. 503 Many more potential settlers were leaving than arriving. Although these figures would also have included Chinese who were being repatriated back to China, many tens of thousands of immigrants from Britain would also have deemed it not financially worthwhile staying. 500 The Argus: 15 March 1916, p. 10. Soldiers and Drink. “A conference of the Independent Order of Rechabites was opened today. The Chief Ruler (Bro J Lydiate) said that there had never been a time in the history of Australia when alcohol had been used to worse effect than during the past 18 months since the troops had been in training for active service.” The organisation was one of those advocating the introduction of 6 o’clock closing following the February 1916 Liverpool Riot. Box Hill Reporter: 22 February 1907, p. 4. However, they were not as fundamentalist as some. “The Rechabites were founded in England in 1835, only 72 years ago. They were in Melbourne 12 years later, starting with 39 members… They now have 26,000 in Victoria alone. It was not a total abstinence society, many of its members taking a little wine for dinner, but it was a step in the right direction.” 501 Jill Eastwood: Melbourne –The Growth of a Metropolis, p. 20. United Benefit Society pamphlet 1839. 502 Jill Eastwood: Melbourne – The Growth of a Metropolis, p. 27. 503 503 Australian Bureau of Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, 1908, p. 154. 235 It was this drive for respectable material success that lay behind the rapid and effective rise of the labour movement amongst the working people of the new nation at Federation, and the rapidity with which radicalism disappeared once the representatives of the working class gained control of the political and financial levers of capitalism. 504 Labour organisations and their associated Friendly Societies were given pride of place during both cities’ celebrations; directly in the Sydney march and through a separate parade in Melbourne on the following Saturday. 505 Apart from the Chamber of Manufacturers’ column, capitalism itself tended to remain in the background, appearing to be satisfied in having its instruments take public spectacle in the parades. Working men, soldiers, and representatives of all levels of government comprised the proud performers 506 while the financial pillars of society stood aside and calmly provided the structural and material backdrop. 507 So the INF, GUOOF, Protestant Alliance, St Patrick, Free Gardeners, UAOD and many other such institutions were not only represented on the streets of Melbourne, they were also represented in the march by their respective bands. 508 With Germans providing the largest non-British migrant group at the time of Federation, 509 it was understandable that both Sydney and Melbourne marches should have had substantial German Arches. It is interesting to appreciate the attitudes that Australians held towards the Germans in their midst prior to the memory of the intervening century marked by two world wars, where Germany came to be regarded as an efficient, if brutal enemy. 510 As opposed to most of the Irish, and certainly most of the Chinese migrants and migrant families at the time of Federation, the Germans 504 Humphrey McQueen: A New Britannia, 2004, chapt. 17, p. 229. “The idea of the Government getting into power, as is sometimes said, and then taking advantage of the fact that they are in power to do all sorts of revolutionary and impossible (sic) things never occurs to the Labour man in Australia.” One could argue that mildly radical reforming governments such as that of Chifley and even that of the more conservative Menzies did far more good for working people than theoretical radicals. 505 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 6. Trades and Friendly Societies March, starting at 10:00am. 506 The Argus: 6 May 1901, p. 6. Trades and Friendly Societies March, starting at 10:00am. 507 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 82. 508 The Argus: 4 May 1901, p. 15. 509 Australian Bureau of Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907 No.1, pp. 166-174. Again note not only the 38 352 persons born in Germany compared with the 29,907 born in China, but the far more even balance between the genders and population spread across Australia. Note also the 75 021 people of Lutheran faith listed on page 174, just below Baptist and Congregational. Allowing for the fact that not all Germans would have been Lutheran, this figure does indicate an even greater number of second generation Australians of German heritage. 510 The Sydney Morning Herald: 20 July 1918, p. 13. German Brutality. The Argus: 11 June 1940, p. 5. German Brutality. Compare this with the treatment of Germans in The Bulletin of 3 March 1901, p. 14, where a confused and obviously not overly intelligent German farmer is not only confounded by the English language and simple logic, but is I suspect, also being inadvertently compared with one of his own pigs. 236 represented the more traditionally cultural aspects of the community. As one historian has put it, there were “prominent business establishments which carried German names; Australians of German descent were active in the medical and legal profession, in education, the arts as well as in commerce, science and politics.” 511 Although also a source of the mockery evident earlier in the Sydney press, Germans had a considerable effect upon Australian agriculture, not only by weight of the numbers of settlers, but also through the application of German efficiency in farming in districts such as the Darling Downs “where they played a significant role in the pioneering work of opening up the country for agriculture.” 512 Consequently there was also a German Citizen’s Arch present, although as with most of the Melbourne arches, there appeared little geographical reasoning behind its actual location. 513 The only obvious link tying the structure to the lower slope of Collins Street was its being adjacent to the Vienna Cafe at 268 Collins Street. 514 This business of Edlinger and Goetz has long gone, having been subsumed by the Hotel Australia on Collins and the Magnificent Arcade. 515 While the placement of this last arch seems to have been an afterthought, the lumping together of those nations with a “Germanic” heritage strikes one now as a little tactless. At the Market Street corner of Collins Street, after the Butter Arch and just prior to the march passing under the German Arch, stretched a banner across the street proclaiming “Denmark’s Greeting.” 516 This Royal Banner of Denmark was supplied by the Consul General Mr Peter Hansen. Given that one of German Chancellor Otto von Bismarck’s first actions when seeking to create a united Germany thirty years earlier had been to “wrest” the German speaking provinces of Schleswig and Holstein from Denmark, it is unlikely that Mr Hansen would have chosen this location himself. 517 The German Arch was unusual in that it consisted of two fluted columns connected by a horizontal bar carrying a painted banner portraying “The Genius of Australia” on one 511 Gerhard Fischer: Enemy Aliens, 1989, University of Queensland Press, Brisbane, p. 19. Franz Wallach, Charles Rasp and Edmund Resch were just some of those of German heritage who had helped develop Australian industry at the time. 512 Gerhard Fischer: Enemy Aliens, p. 17. 513 Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 83. 514 The Age: 7 May 1901, p. 10. 515 Sands and McDougall’s: Melbourne and Suburban Directory for 1901, p. 13. Australia on Collins: Centre Information and History online database. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 84. 516 The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 10. 517 Neville Kingsley Meaney: The West and the World 1789-1914, 1972, Science Press, Sydney, p. 316. 237 side and the German Imperial Standard on the other. The Age claimed that this was a particularly popular arch: “an artistic success and a credit not only to the designer, but to the German citizens who have worked so enthusiastically to worthily welcome the descendent of a Queen whose death their own Emperor mourned with the loving affection of a son.” 518 Again, the all pervasive influence of the recently deceased Queen Victoria continued to hold a strong sway over both Australian, and even European society well into 1901. The German arch was also deemed to be important and significant enough that a serious error in spelling in the motto across the top bar should have been pointed out, and then excused, since there was apparently too little time to alter the wording. In the included quotation from Schiller’s William Tell; “Wir woollen seine in, einig Volk von Brudern (One People we, United and Fraternal), the word ‘einzig’ (only or retraction) was given instead of ‘einig’ (to be in agreement), and the sense of the motto was altered from one of goodwill to doubtfulness.” 519 The German nation appeared as fervent and enthusiastic as German Australians themselves although with what would have been considered even at the time an ominous overtone. One of the last visiting vessels to arrive in Melbourne in time for the opening of Federal Parliament 520 was the German cruiser Cormoran. 521 Even the Examiner in Launceston noted the significance of the incident, 522 with many of the parade spectators aware that this particular vessel, known as SMS Cormoran I, was instrumental in expanding Germany’s imperial empire in the Pacific and China, then and in the aftermath of the Boxer Rebellion. Later, while laid up in the Chinese port of Tsingtau (Quingdao) her guns were removed and fitted to a captured Russian vessel at the outbreak of the First World War, which was then renamed Cormoran II. This renamed ship would eventually be scuttled at Guam as one of the first actions between Germany and the United States in the war. 523 518 The Age: 7 May 1901, p. 10. Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 82. 519 The Age: 6 May 1901, p. 10. The Argus: 7 May 1901, p. 5. Melbourne en Fete. No matter that the 1804 play William Tell was based upon the famous Swiss nationalist who fought against the Germanic Austro Hungarian overlords. 520 The Argus: 4 May 1901, p. 15. 521 Chris Coulthard-Clark: Where Australians Fought – The Encyclopaedia of Australia’s Battles, p. 194. It would later be the successively named auxiliary cruiser SMS Kormoran that would sink HMAS Sydney II off the Western Australian coast in 1941. 522 Launceston Examiner: 9 April 1917, p. 5. 523 The Argus: 17 December 1914, p. 7. Cruiser Cormoran interned at Guam. 238 One noticeable difference evident in photographs of the Central Business District of Melbourne at the time of Federation, and those of Melbourne City today, is in the number of trees lining the streets. Perhaps this could be regarded as an example of the gentrification of the city, as well a change in the public’s relationship with the natural world made possible also by practical changes in the use of the streets. We do not even need to go back a century to see this quite remarkable transformation. The photographs of the central city, as well as individual streets in Morris’ Melbourne Past and Present, show through the development of aerial photography that even later in 1935 the city’s greenery remained sparse. 524 Tree filled parks and public spaces were of course as numerous then as today and recognised as an important requirement for both the physical and psychological health of the inhabitants. However, fully grown trees were restricted to these specific sites, and the business sections of the city remained largely vegetation free. This greening of the inner city streetscape appears to have accelerated over the intervening decades within both Sydney and Melbourne, although the significance of verdant spaces was well established by 1900. Hyde Park, Centennial Park and the Botanical Gardens surrounding Melbourne’s Government House all played their parts as significant locations for the Federation parades, since it was these very open areas that could accommodate the numbers of spectators and participants for the various ceremonies and parade formations. If this leafy infill represents a general trend towards a softer, more pleasing environment as well as compensation for the large number of awnings that have been removed (or modern buildings constructed without awnings at all), then this also presents problems of its own. The detrimental effects of tree roots on even more antiquated subterranean water, sewage and gas pipes have also been noted from the beginning. 525 The imagery of the tree also as a symbol of growth was well recognised by the nineteenth century, and when Henry Parkes attended the Federation Conference in Melbourne during February 1890, he commemorated the event by planting a spreading 524 Sheridan Morris: Melbourne Past and Present, 2008, Axiom Publishing, Adelaide, pp. 96, 102-103. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 85. 525 The Sydney Morning Herald: 23 May 1939, p. 10. “The Alderman McElhone’s lament lists tree roots getting into water pipes, tree roots being cut to lay new water pipes, and even tree roots being adversely affected by leaking gas as issues needing to be addressed.” Arthur McElhone was another scion of a powerful Irish Catholic family that had held civic positions in Sydney for generations. He had married into the Anthony Hordern family and became director of both corporate and civic icons in the city. G N Hawker: The Parliament of New South Wales 1856-1965, 1971, NSW Government Printer, Sydney. 239 oak tree near Parliament House. 526 It was at this conference that Parkes made his famous “crimson thread of kinship” statement; 527 no doubt realising that despite the “lion in the path” of intrastate taxation, the progress towards the Federation of the nation was now as relentless as would be the growth of this tree. A month later Parkes planted another tree in Berrima’s central square having given yet another tree stump speech at Bowral School in support of Federation. 528 14. AFTER THE PARADES As previously mentioned, the initial parade through the city of Melbourne on 6 May 1901 was only one of the many celebrations during that week. This introductory parade was mirrored by the equally significant march on 9 May to the Exhibition Buildings 529 in Carlton Gardens for the formal establishment of the new Federal Government. 530 There were also the smaller Stockman’s, Chinese, Fireman’s and Trades’ marches that utilised the arches and various parts of the main parade routes. Once all these parades and accompanying celebrations were over, the arches and accompanying celebratory structures were dismantled, and in view of their underlying flimsiness, broken up and dumped as their public memory quietly faded away. Despite all the arches in both parades originally intended to be of a temporary nature, very little mention was made of their removal, and what eventually happened to the remains. Slabs of plaster and fibre from the Sydney arches may well have ended up in the recently established Tempe Tip. This former brick pit on the otherwise unused swampland near the Chinese market garden district around the Cooks River was already being used as a dumping ground. 531 The Bairnsdale and Tambo and Omeo Chronicle, 526 Australian Broadcasting Commission: Gardening Australia, Melbourne’s historically significant trees online database. Photograph Booklet vol.2, p. 85. 527 The Sydney Morning Herald: 25 April 1890, p. 4. Helen Irving: The Centenary Companion to Australian Federation, 1999, Cambridge University Press, Melbourne, p. 364. 528 Parliament of NSW: Private Member’s Statement by Mr Seaton, page 10608 Hansard online database. 529 Photograph Booklet vol. 2, p. 87. 530 Photograph Booklet vol. 2, p. 88. 531 Richard Cashman and Chrys Meader: Marrickville – Rural Outpost to Inner City, p. 57. “But in the twentieth century Tempe declined rapidly in social status and the popular phrase ‘Tempe Tip’ became a derogatory expression for a suburb which suffers from a considerable amount of air and noise pollution.” Marrickville Council: The 1950s online database. From the 1930s to the 1980s all the other brick pits surrounding Gumbramorra Swamp were converted to parkland and sporting ovals. With gentrification of 240 of all press outlets, mentioned the calling of tenders in August 1901 for the removal of the Queen’s Arch in Collins Street. “The structure is in a lamentable state of decay and has become an eyesore.” 532 Overall the process of constructing and then dismantling the arches in both cities appeared to have involved a considerable squandering of both social effort and financial value, with Melbourne’s arches listed by the West Australian newspaper as costing upwards of £20,000, out of the £100,000 allocated for all that city’s celebrations. 533 This is not to suggest that the concept of a permanent reminder of these significant events was immediately lost. There were, even at the time, many proposals in both these capital cities for some permanent memorial to mark the Federation of the nation. 534 However, interest waned and nothing substantial eventuated. As I intimated in the Sydney march chapter dealing with the Commonwealth Arch at Hyde Park, even in 1901 there seemed to be an unconscious evolution of a national characteristic that looked forward to the future and the modern 535 with less of a concern over the distant, or even very recent, past. The fate of the 2001 Centenary of Federation construction on Princes Bridge certainly strikes the modern footstepper as a sad confirmation of this national characteristic. Less tangible remains from the era also appear to have faded without trace. The nomenclature of Federation Place at the present junction of Anzac Parade, Cleveland Street and Lang Road has never to my knowledge been commonly used. 536 While a pleasant open parkland in Sydney’s east, the area’s main claim to fame today is as parking for cricket and football spectators at the Sydney Cricket Ground and Football Stadium. There is certainly little record or use of this term today, apart from the small print in street directories, 537 and the only physical palimpsest that connects to the the district, even the remnant waste disposal area next door to the old tip holding the Olympic Rings is now referred to as a Recycling Depot. 532 Bairnsdale and Tambo and Omeo Chronicle: 27 August 1901, p. 2. 533 The West Australian: 23 April 1901, p. 5. 534 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, 2000, pp. 60-64. Milne dedicates the final half a dozen pages of her Sydney parade study to a discussion on the possible proposals for a permanent memorial to Federation. 535 The Australian: 24 March 2011, online database. “Australians buy 1 million mobiles monthly.” Australians' love affair with mobile phones shows no sign of abating, with more than 1 million units purchased each month last year. 536 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Sydney Street Directory 2011, map 20. As with the hanging swamp at Elizabeth Street Sydney, until I began researching this thesis, I was not even aware that this named location ever existed. 537 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Street Directory of Sydney 2011, map 20. 241 Federation era are the now difficult to recognise mounds alongside the bus roadway which are all that remains of the tram station that served sporting and showground patrons in the past. 538 When the Centenary of Federation was planned, it was also as much a social as a political event. 539 On the 1 January 2001, an abbreviated celebratory march retraced part of the original Sydney parade route from the Domain directly up College Street and along Oxford Street before, ironically diverting down the old tramway along Anzac Parade, so as not to disrupt then more important everyday traffic. 540 By the time a century had passed, the quiet Oxford Street amble out to the relaxed Eastern Suburbs had be become a congested thoroughfare clogged with motor vehicles connecting some of the densest packed suburbs of Sydney with the city. Modern drivers would not have appreciated the necessary blockage of the street, even for the commemoration of the centenary of such a significant national event. Ironically this meant that the smaller parade a century after Federation actually did turn left at Federation Place. The intersection and walkway were partially replanted at the time, no doubt with the intention of reinvigorating the area. 541 Again however, nothing further eventuated, and the city continues to rely for its tangible memory upon the Tzannes 1988 Federation Pavilion in Centennial Park. 542 Melbourne has also attempted to demonstrate respect to the city’s and the nation’s heritage through the permanent construction of Federation Square, offering a more long lasting tribute to the 1901 Federation of the Australian nation. Whether this, essentially entertainment area adjacent to the site of the principal Melbourne Arch causes citizens to reflect upon the significance of events that took place at this location a century ago, is difficult to judge. 538 Gregory’s Publishing Company: Gregory’s Street Directory of Sydney & Suburbs 1934, maps 8, 12. Note the prevalence of tram tracks along Anzac Parade at the height of the system’s popularity and extent. The Sydney Morning Herald: 7 October 1887, p. 9. SMH: 8 November 1920, p. 9 “Night smash in Moore Park”. SMH: 18 February1954, p. 8. Even as early as 1887, mention is made of another strange characteristic of the to-be-named Federation Place; its role as the Bermuda Triangle of Sydney tram crashes. 539 Australian Broadcasting Corporation: Australia’s Centenary of Federation., online program guide and events. 540 Australian Broadcasting Corporation: Federation Story 2001, online internet map. 541 Centennial Parklands: Centenary of Federation Fact Sheet online database. 542 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 265. As mentioned, this pavilion had originally been constructed as part of Australia’s Bi-centennial of First Settlement celebrations, not the Centenary of Federation 242 With the establishment of the National Museum of Australia, recognition was finally afforded to the effort that had been put into preparing for the Federation of the nation a century earlier. A half scale model of Melbourne’s Citizen’s Arch was constructed and placed on display in the year 2000. 543 Significantly, this was not a model of one of the two principal political Federation Arches from 1901: the Sydney Commonwealth Arch from Park Street, or Melbourne’s Municipal Arch from the Princes Bridge, but rather the structure commemorating the citizens and population of the city of Melbourne; the one that was originally located in the retail hub of Bourke Street. While general interest in heritage has no doubt increased over the intervening century, such a choice of arch could be seen as not so much reflecting the vagaries of fashion as centring commemoration on the sense of the recognised local community, rather than a more abstract imagined national identity. 543 National Museum of Australia: Citizens’ Arch – Flash interactive online database. Photograph Booklet vol. 2, p. 89. 243 CONCLUSION What conclusions have I been able to draw from the application of the methodology of footstepping and thick description to the investigation of the two 1901 Federation parades in Sydney and Melbourne? What kind of society was being imagined at the time and who was to be considered part of this society? Footstepping is first and foremost the retracing through the physical, and then the cultural environment as it currently exists, overlaying the experienced physical setting with the known or imagined environment of the past. The process of footstepping can therefore be considered a form of re-enactment based on the traditional process of visiting historical sites while researching and being guided by traditional literary sources to uncover instances and episodes relating to either individuals or whole societies. The thick description of Ryle and Geertz has previously been applied in sociological terms to the interpretation of exotic cultures in the present. Just as individual diaries and personal records were employed by Richard Holmes as the practical initiators and motivation for the research into his individual biographical subjects , so I integrated the experiences of the cities of Sydney and Melbourne and their communities through the press and historical commentary to the analyse the biography of the Australian community. Evidence was then further collated through the photographic record of the era. Geographical and architectural photography was subsequently used as part of the recording process for my own methodology, resulting in both a written evaluation of the Australian nation a century ago, and the visual analysis of what still remains today. As mentioned in the Introduction, I have not regarded footstepping as a new technique, but rather as a new frame of reference. Visiting historical sites has a long and proud tradition in both travelogues and historical studies. However, by inter-playing this traditional approach with literary records of the time and newspaper reports of the events, I sought to apply a process that has been more common in the field of literary biography and the biography of individuals, to gain insight into the attitudes of the wider community: in essence, the biography of a nation. 244 By combining these two processes to investigate my own Australian culture in the past, rather than analysing a current society from a cultural or physical distance, I was able to follow E P Thompson’s ideal; getting inside the episodes of the principal Federation parades to apprise the Australian imagined community of a century ago. My thesis therefore intended to add to the historical record directly through the analysis of these two events, but also indirectly through advancing this methodological and research process. It was through the practice of footstepping the routes of the parades that I not only revealed a differing view of Australia’s attitudes to the non-British members of the community to the one that has traditionally been presented but also advanced a theoretical approach to the practice of historical research itself. FOOTSTEPPING ANALYSIS One obvious feature of both cities that became evident from footstepping these two routes was the importance of the geography and landform. Following the routes of the two marches informed a wider appreciation of the two cities, and the degree to which geography can influence, or interact with culture: the degree to which shadows, shades and vestiges from the past still remain, even if dependent upon cultural and literary memory. As previously mentioned, even the nature of the routes themselves reflected the differing landscapes and political establishment of the two cities. Sydney grew in a haphazard manner over the course of its initial century, and the route of the Sydney Federation parade reflected this by almost zig zagging through the city before eventually breaking out into the long straight course to Centennial Park. Melbourne began as a rectilinear planed city, and again the Melbourne march mirrored this formality even to the extent of the four sided route being evenly spaced three blocks either side of the Swanston Street entry into the city. Initially of course, the purpose behind both Federation parades was to showcase aspects of Australian society, and present the newly federated nation to both the world and to itself. Consequently, the routes chosen had social and political considerations. This does not mean that the parameters governing the routes were necessarily chosen intentionally, although certain points of significance and notable thoroughfares were considered essential. Certain buildings would have to have been included: Parliament Houses and governmental offices were consciously chosen, while centres of Christian 245 worship and culture were chosen unconsciously simply by their inadvertent location throughout the city. Particular roadways were decided upon both through simple mathematical logic as well as the conscious need to present the more attractive and culturally prestigious districts within the cities. Sites were naturally included as the marches were stepped out to a length that could accommodate both the size of the parades themselves, and the time and distance that the participants could be expected to walk; not much more than an hour, and subsequently around six kilometres or four miles. The remnants of streets, lanes and buildings, along with government services such as trams and railways often still existed in some form, literally providing the pathway for the footstepper to follow. However, uncovering them was dependent upon the approach employed by Richard Holmes; through both a varying level of intimacy with the city and the society, and the written literary record. It is for this reason that I also followed Holmes’ lead in taking side tracks to three other locations adjacent to the marches in the two cities to uncover districts that were not regarded as showcases of Australian culture. Although kept outside the boundaries of the parades, Darling Harbour, Wexford Street and Little Lonsdale Street did demonstrate the all-encompassing interconnected nature of society at the time through a physical familiarity that could be considered closer than the one experienced by suburban residents today. This was borne out of the need to be physically near to work and church, school and social services, as well a cultural closeness that may have been simply due to the freshness of so many of the cultural establishments that were evolving at the time. Not only the new Federal Government, but a newly developing labour movement and newly established public education systems were all becoming institutions that had not yet become institutionalised. The result of the expansion of public transport also meant that most members of the Sydney and Melbourne communities were able to attend significant events such as these parades and associated celebrations. The society of the time was not just theoretically imagined, but the practical embodiment of every day experience, with citizens at the time getting inside the episodes themselves as both participants and immediate spectators. Divisions of class, race, gender and religion existed, but these did not preclude participation in the Federation celebrations. There may have been restrictions on Chinese and Mediterranean immigration, the purchase of Chinese made furniture, 246 women in the workforce and Catholics in aspects of politics and employment, but there were no restrictions on who could attend and view these marches. The road surface encountered by participants and spectators arriving by public transport may have been rougher than that encountered today, although the wooden blocks and hard gravel were being replaced by more modern surfaces, partially to accommodate the newly laid tram tracks. Photographic images of the time indicate that the experience of actually marching along the principal roads that formed the routes of the marches would probably not have been much different to that of walking the streets today. Gradients were kept as low as possible within the other parameters since it was obvious that the Sydney march would need to go down the steep slope from State Parliament House to the Central Business District and the Melbourne march would need to travel up the equally steep slope from Swanston Street to Spring Street. Tight bends were kept to a minimum, interestingly paralleling the soon to be adjusted turning radii of corners to accommodate the expanding tram networks in both cities. 1 The routes taken by the two Federation parades are still logically obvious in terms of these gradients, the actual distance needed to be travelled and the number of sharp corners that needed to be traversed. The width of roadways, however, provided an interesting point of comparison. Melbourne began as a planned city, and the streets that were originally laid out were the ones followed by the 1901 march and the ones that I retraced through a century later. Sydney began unplanned and rather cramped, so that some streets such as Martin Place were in the process of being widened at the time of Federation, while others such as Park Street and Oxford Street were widened over the subsequent decades. The modern footstepper can thus still obtain a strong sense of the narrow canyon effect remaining in districts such as Pitt Street and the sensation that people of the time must have felt after the Sydney parade turned from the breadth of Macquarie Street and plunged down Bridge Street. Moving from the equally narrow confines of old Park Street, through the Commonwealth Arch out into the expanse of Hyde Park would now have to be imagined although the taller buildings on the southern side of the street replicate much of the original sensation. Such buildings themselves, including large 1 The one notable exception was the zig zag that the Sydney March made at Martin Place, moving from the economically influential Pitt Street onto the commercially influential George Street. 247 government offices and churches have remained in place over the course of a century or more, and even when they are altered, regulations usually mean that the actual sites retain their original purpose. 2 Smaller shops and offices often change, although, as I found, whole districts tend not to change their tone unless governmental instrumentalities consciously decide to re-zone or alter building codes. Thus, government, business and retail areas in both cities have remained stable over the century, even as individual buildings have been replaced or reassigned to new roles. 3 Where change has often occurred is in residential districts. This has been due to a combination of government incentive and regulation and the changing aspirations and expectations of people themselves. The availability of public transport, along with a desire to escape the unhealthy inner city of a century ago led to the expansion of suburbia. The subsequent congestion of private transport and the elimination of most of the sources of ill-health have now led to a conscious (if still relatively small) move back to city living for those who can afford it. Consequently, the available inner urban districts themselves have changed. The Little Lonsdale precinct is now high rise modern, rather than medium density disreputable, Wentworth Avenue is becoming a mix of contemporary medium rise residential and early twentieth century warehouse restored, while Darling Harbour has lost virtually all low level residential status in favour of high rise city offices, and now high rise, high end casinos and apartments. Assembling and dispersal points for the two Federation parades a century ago were a significant consideration, with both dependent upon large park land or open space. The footstepping experience demonstrated this clearly in the case of Sydney, where the closeness of the Domain to the centre of the city made this site logical. The long extended component of the march was then out to Centennial Park where again the large park land would have afforded room for the necessary dispersal of the marchers. In the case of Melbourne, the assembly point was St Kilda with the final dispersal at the Botanical Gardens and Government House. For most participants this again would have been within easy walking distance back to the city and the rail and tram network within central Melbourne. One characteristic that was not so obvious from walking the two 2 It is here that the redevelopment of the old government buildings in Macquarie Street, and of the Paris end of Collins Street can be thought of as the exceptions (or compromises) that prove the rule. 3 This seems to be more the case in Melbourne, where the formal city grid pattern retains the Central Business District within strict confines. Sydney has been more fluid, with the previously mentioned fluctuations isolating department stores, for example. 248 routes, but which emerged from press reports of the day was the previously mentioned lack of sustenance and the poor public facilities available at the time. While much thought was put into transportation to and from the events, and even the possible need for first aid in the event of mishap, the lack of water and toilet facilities appears regretfully modern, and mirrors the current experience with even annual events such as Anzac Day parades and New Year’s Eve concerts. As mentioned, the two marches also differed in their expectations, and this was also reflected in the organisation at the time. Sydney’s parade was a one off event celebrating the day when Australia became a united and federated nation, while Melbourne’s march was one event among many that accompanied the establishment of a Federal Parliament. The number of events in Melbourne was enough for even newspapers to become confused over routes and dates, so that the initial public procession investigated in my thesis was the largest, but not the principal parade. This would have been the shorter march three days later to the Exhibition Building for the formal opening of Parliament. Therefore, we could construe that Sydney’s Federation parade wished to present the new nation as a unique cultural entity both to the rest of the world and to itself, while Melbourne’s event was more organisational and reflective of both governmental responsibility and the desire to retain links to a wider protective culture. Sydney was thus more inclusive, at least consciously inclusive of those groups who were to be consciously embraced in the new society, while Melbourne appeared more regal and vice-regal, reaffirming political and military connections to the British Empire. One other interpretation of Australian society that emerged from both my footstepping methodology and my wider accompanying research; and one that exposed questions within my theoretical approach, was the obvious importance of individuals to Australia’s development. At one level this went against the social philosophy of Wilhelm Dilthey who had argued for a community approach to determining wider social attitudes, and what actually constitutes history. I too began by looking to uncover the ideals of a community in general and continually found myself returning to examples of the individual enterprise that influenced this community; particularly in the case of Sydney. So the question arises; to what degree were my own investigations a party to these same historical evidential limitations? Were the imaginings of the whole population really being expressed? Was the culture I uncovered through my 249 experiences, the press and other written material just another historical representation of narrow personal experience, or was the society of the time really so influenced and determined by individuals such as Mort, Ashburton Thompson, Martin and Baracchi? I essentially was left with two possibilities: either the views of these social leaders really did largely embody the views of the community, which is why they became leaders in the first place, or conversely, the views of the community were naturally so wide and diverse that I would have had to contemplate dozens of varying opinions on each aspect of the national identity being created. In this case, the social aspects of the footstepping methodology would have to be considered problematic. If the new community really was being imagined, then this imagining was occurring in the minds of many people on an individual level, and while the overall outcome would have to reflect a community consensus for the process to come to practical fruition, analysing responses actually brings out an individualistic aspect. Perhaps it was the very familiarity that I brought to my analysis of the Sydney parade that caused me to inevitably cast my view wider, and that the recognised contrast with footstepping the Melbourne march route; that of a lack of familiarity with the city and its history, thus really did become a methodological advantage. I was forced back into an analysis of what was before me without prior knowledge of individual influence on the city. The individuals who were considered part of Melbourne’s history were those I found through, for example, the statuary and works of art along the route of the march, rather than through any sense of cultural memory. PRESENT AND MISSING If Australia was imagining itself to be both intrinsically and almost protectively British, and at the same time embodying a level of tolerance within this tradition, who actually were the non-British who were to be tolerated (or not, as the case may be)? In 1901 the number of Australians of non-British birth was relatively small, although this also depended upon definition. 4 With almost three million citizens born in Australia and a further quarter of a million born in England out of a total population in 1901 of 4 Wray Vamplew: Australians, Historical Statistics, 1987, Fairfax, Syme & Weldon Associates, Sydney, p. 12. Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, pp. 166-169. 250 3,773,801, 5 the 30,000 born in China, and 38,000 born in Germany, for example, would have been fairly significant in themselves. 6 However, if one takes into account the large numbers of second generation non-British people who would have been considered, and considered themselves, as Australians to quite varying degrees, these figures would have been much greater. What is also noteworthy was the wide number of nationalities represented in the statistics. As well as Germans, Chinese and Italians, there were significant numbers of migrants from Scandinavia (Denmark, Norway, Sweden), Japan, the United States of America and Canada, and even the Austro Hungarian Empire and Switzerland. With the White Australia policy coming into force, the numbers born in Africa and Asia in general were small, with numbers in the mere hundreds nationwide. Still, while many nationalities had mere token representation, the variety filled one complete page of the 1901 census. 7 Of course, the interpretation of such figures can reflect the opinions of people today as much as the attitudes of Australians at the time. The events at the turn of the century can be pressed into service to underplay the racist attitudes that obviously have existed in the Australian community or to exaggerate the lack of tolerance, although the results of my footstepping suggest that a more accurate picture lies somewhere in between. While it may be current to believe that Australian society has attempted to cover up and hide the less admirable aspects of the past, there is also the tendency, noted by David Lowenthal, for current commentary to overstate the inverse. The past can be presented in an unnaturally positive light, although “the past is not always benignly exhibited; on occasion its infamies too are exaggerated.” 8 While Lowenthal’s example of “historical self-flagellation” is American, can the same be said of fin de siècle Australia? 9 5 Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1, p. 168. Note also the discrepancy at the bottom of the page, where the correct figure of 3 773 801 is incorrectly listed as 37,37,801. 6 If all numbers are multiplied by six to equate with Australia’s current population, almost two hundred thousand Chinese and well over two hundred thousand Germans would not be inconsiderable. 7 Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1907, No.1 p. 168. 8 David Lowenthal: The Past is a Foreign Country, p. 345. 9 David Lowenthal: The Past is a Foreign Country, p. 346. Quoting Kenneth Adelman: “US National Park Service battlefield interpretations today focus so much on the horrors of war that some suspect pacifist leanings.” 251 At one level, these marches appeared to be representative of the community, and yet also unrepresentative of the wider society of the time. In terms of those people who were looked upon as the principal actors within society, the marches were quite inclusive. Australian tolerance and egalitarianism extended to the respectable and even organised working class as well as to those non-British migrants who were seen as contributing to the community. There seemed to have been what author and flâneur Edmund White would later describe as a particularly “French” attitude towards such minorities (or in the case of women, an actual majority, if also a cultural minority). 10 According to White, our current Australian preoccupation with identity politics and “hyphenated cultural membership” 11 is at a variance with the ideal of cultural inclusion. “The French themselves would argue that their rejection of all ghettoization, far from being a sign of closetedness or cynicism, is in fact consistence with their ‘singularity’ as a nation.” “The French,” he continues, “believe that a society is not a federation of special interest groups but rather an impartial state that treats each citizen – regardless of his or her gender, sexual orientation, religion or colour – as an abstract, universal individual.” 12 This state of affairs is, of course, dependent upon a reality where all citizens actually are treated as equal individuals; and at the time of the Federation parades, this was not the case. 13 German and Chinese migrants suffered abuse and racism at the time of the Federation parades, as did Greek and Italian migrants then and later. However, these non-British migrant groups had been allowed into the country for both their own political and economic benefit, and for the economic benefit of Australia as a nation. For some, the process was always too open and liberal, and for others it was always too restrictive. One of the weaknesses of relying solely on press reportage of historical events is that, as I mentioned at the beginning, the press and the media tend to be polarising institutions; by their nature open most to opinions that are often extreme, or at least the most confrontational and engaging. 14 I would argue that only through all-encompassing 10 Edmund White: The Flâneur, chapt. 5. 11 Deakin University: Hyphenated Australia online database. “Putting intercultural identity on the conceptual map.” 12 Edmund White: The Flâneur, p. 166. 13 Davison, McCarty, McLeary: Australians 1888, 1987, Fairfax, Syme & Weldon Associates, Sydney, p. 421. “The Chinese Restriction Bill [introduced into the colonial NSW Parliament] that troubled Lord Carrington was rushed through parliament, limiting entry by a variety of shipping and residential qualifications.” 14 While I have revealed instances of negative racial attitudes expressed through cartoons and articles in publications such as The Bulletin, it is worth remembering that the gist of my thesis is such traditional 252 social experiences such as these major parades do calmer underlying and more pervasive attitudes become consciously visible. The Australian community celebrated at Federation was to be white Anglo-Saxon and a proud member of the British Empire. However, the evidence demonstrates a more complex less differentiated society. The marches were organised by a Croatian in Melbourne and Irish Catholics in Sydney. Weather reports for the Melbourne parade and medical support for the citizens of Sydney were supplied by Italians, and the establishment of the Federal Parliament in Melbourne was celebrated through a formal Italian Conversazione, while there was an Italian float in Sydney. Groups such as the Chinese were either patronised as token members of the wider community or feared due to their numbers, while at the same time their contribution to the new society was recognised through the Chinese arch and Chinese parade in Melbourne. The Federation of the nation had been partially planned in Chinese tea rooms in Sydney while Chinese social influence was informally acknowledged through the reliance upon their furniture, food supplies and eating establishments. 15 Men from all levels of the community who were to be the constituent members of the new democracy were actively involved as both the participants and the organisers of the marches. Political dignitaries, the vice-regal representatives of course, military and police forces and working men were all proudly represented within both parades. 16 However, it is those who were missing from the marches who tell us as much about the kind of society that Australia hoped to build from the Federation of the nation. These groups existed as outsiders to some degree at the time, and certainly existed as shadows behind my later footstepping experience. Women, for example, hardly appeared to be represented at all in the parades. Apart from the Duchess of Cornwall and York, whose own position was essentially dependent upon that of her husband, and the female manikins on the Italian and Canadian cars, no other women were present as participants. No doubt the restrictive nature of women’s fashions of the time goes a long way to explaining why they did not walk the full distances of the parades, although by contrast, written outlets can be limited in their sources and consequently unrepresentative in the opinions they express. 15 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 178. Davison states that “The Chinese in particular constituted a separate market from the rest of the [furniture] trade, marked off by their disregard for European standards of wages, hours, conditions and prices.” However, as mentioned, European trades unions rarely supported the Chinese in attempting to improve their own conditions. 16 The Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 14. 253 women were conspicuously present in the throngs viewing the marches and in those assembled for the Centennial Park ceremony after the Sydney march. 17 However, in the case of the Melbourne march at least, there was a serious proposal to include a Women’s Arch. “At the conclusion of the citizen’s committee yesterday, Miss L White, who originated in a letter published in The Age, the idea of a women’s arch, introduced a deputation of ladies to the Mayor.” 18 There was initially considerable confidence in the raising of the necessary £500 from the women of Victoria for such a structure. However, by the next week, the project appeared to have been taken over by senior female civic leaders in Melbourne, and the less substantial £100 that had already been raised was transferred into financing a new ward for the Queen Victoria Memorial Hospital. 19 While it may have been understandable that a women’s leader such as Mary Elizabeth Chomley, a Red Cross Society worker who would later work in London supporting wounded soldiers during the First World War, should be behind the move, it seems strange that Ida Goldstein, feminist, mother of activist Vida Goldstein, and a staunch campaigner for women’s suffrage would have agreed to forgo such an opportunity to promote the cause. 20 Moreover, despite at least one fifth of the workforce by this time being female, 21 women workers were also not included in the trades sections of the parades. At a certain level the fact that women were working, or having to work, was increasingly at odds with the middle-class ideal of gendered domesticity that had gathered momentum during the second half of Queen Victoria’s reign. 22 Notwithstanding the fact that both families and industries themselves were often dependent upon a female workforce, the aim of the labour movement was increasingly centred on the principle of giving all men the 17 This is clearly evident in the photographic evidence of the time. 18 The Age: 12 March 1901, p. 5. 19 The Age: 22 March 1901, p. 5. “ I [Lady Sargood] will have much pleasure in asking the ladies who have so generously promised and subscribed upwards of £100 towards the erection of a triumphal arch to her Royal Highness, if they are agreeable to hand over their subscriptions to your fund.” 20 Wilde, Hooton, Andrews: The Oxford Companion to Australian Literature, 1985-1994, p. 320. 21 Commonwealth Bureau of Census and Statistics: Official Year Book of the Commonwealth of Australia 1901-1908, No.2, pp. 544-547. Note that certainly from Federation well over one quarter of the workforce in manufacturing was female. In 1903, 149,246 males and 46,564 females were employed in manufacturing industries. 22 The Australian Women’s Weekly: 27 November 1968, p. 2. Note Dr Jean Battersby’s quote from the 1966 Commonwealth Census stating that 26.6% of married women worked. Granted that there were far greater restrictions on married women in public service employment a century ago, it still seems ironic to boast that female employment in the 1960s was essentially the same as it had been at Federation. 254 opportunity to support their families. 23 The Harvester Judgement of 1907 and the Fruit Pickers’ Case of 1912 would certainly later enshrine this ideal through the concept of the basic wage. 24 While Davison quotes Veblen’s Theory of the Leisure Class to the effect that “the consumption habits of the middle class were mainly directed towards the maintenance of ‘the lady of the house’ in a state of conspicuous abstention”, the reality often appeared to apply more in theory than in practice. 25 Working class families still typically relied upon the wages of both parents. There were occupations apart from domestic service, such as nursing, teaching and clerical work, where women were considered to be suited, although those in the public service were expected to resign upon marriage. On one level, their work was deemed to be socially significant, and even essential, although it was also the lower wages paid to women, and their supposedly more malleable temperaments that made them attractive to employers. Even then, as Melanie Raymond points out in her discussion of female industrial action at the Guest Biscuit factory in the 1890s, in practice this was not always the case. 26 However, it was the hard physical labour undertaken by men in earning their living that was lauded and represented in the marches and by the arches that the participants passed underneath. 27 In certain instances, the position of women actually retreated. As Raelene Francis and Bruce Scates have noted; “In 1901 women had won equal pay in the new Federal public service. [Consequently] women who held responsible positions in the Victorian postal service were relegated to the lowest position and could no longer sit the public service examination for 1902.” 28 Interestingly, factory inspection was apparently still deemed suitable for women. Cuthbertson mentions the Victorian Government Gazette as early as 1894 advertising 23 The Dawn: 1 January 1903, p. 12. “Numbers of young women having no male supporters went to work, earning as much as 9s and 10s per week. With this they have to cover all their own expenses and help at home.” The issue raised by Tom Mann was part of the push to extend the franchise from Australia to Britain so that women were to vote to improve their economic standing. The Australian Women’s Weekly: 27 November 1968, p. 2. “And once again Dr Battersby touched on another source of tension, the Australian disapproval of working wives and their resultant sense of guilt.” Perhaps this attitude in the Weekly was more class based. I recall little sense of guilt over working wives in Newtown and Marrickville. 24 Mark Hearn and Greg Patmore: Working the Nation – Working Life and Federation 1890-1914, p. 38. “The Harvester Judgment.” 25 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 201. 26 Raelene Francis and Bruce Scates: Women, Work and the Labor Movement in Australia and Aotearoa/New Zealand, 2006, pp. 123-132. 27 Helen Irving: To Constitute a Nation – a Cultural History of Australia’s Constitution, chapt. 10. 28 Raelene Francis and Bruce Scates: Women, Work and the Labor Movement in Australia and Aotearoa/New Zealand, 2006, p. 113. 255 for “Female Inspectors of Factories.” 29 Although obviously intended to cover the inspection of “all factories, shops, work-rooms, dressmaking and millinery establishments, where females are employed; to report on the sanitary arrangements, hours of labour, remuneration etc,” the advertisement inadvertently hints at the range of occupations utilising females, and the large numbers of women employed in the decade leading up to Federation. 30 Perhaps the attitude to working women was analogous to that towards non-British migrants, in that on the one hand society feigned opposition and even attempted to enact legislation to prevent or preclude female employment, 31 while on the other hand accepting the reality of the practical need for many women to have financial income and many industries to be reliant upon either women’s skills or simply their (cheaper) presence in understaffed employment. This being the case, there was also no representation of the importance of domestic womanhood in the parade. The composition of the two marches in Sydney and Melbourne thus contrasted with the make-up of the spectators actually watching both the parades, and even in the preparations for the week’s events. The Argus itself commented on the presence of women and even their offspring in assisting with assembling the parade infrastructure. “Women seemed to predominate, and babies were everywhere. Oh! What a blessing the stands at the Town-hall in Swanston Street, proved to be.” 32 And, as previously mentioned, women took a significant role in volunteering as first aid officers during the march. 33 One other group notable for their absence from these two principal Federation parades were Aboriginal and Torres Strait Islander People. They were both physically and legally missing in that they were not included in the Constitution; a provision that remained in force until the 1967 referendum. 34 Initially, those Aboriginal people who 29 Mark Hearn and Greg Patmore: Working the Nation – Working Life and Federation 1890-1914, p. 251. The Adelaide Advertiser: 6 February 1894, p. 5. Female inspectors for Victoria. “The Government have decided to follow the practice inaugurated by the London County Council of having female inspectors of factories.” 30 Notably, the first International Women’s Day rally in Australia calling for equal pay for equal work, an 8 hour day and annual leave did not take place until 28 March 1928. 31 Mark Hearn and Greg Patmore: Working the Nation – Working Life and Federation 1890-1914, p. 258. “The fear that women would be taking men’s jobs was based on the anxiety that they would undercut the basic wage. The Harvester Judgement entrenched the notion of the family breadwinner being a male worker, and thus undermined feminist campaigns for equal pay.” The Adelaide Advertiser: 16 October 1907. The Harvester Excise. 32 The Argus: 3 May 1901, p. 5. 33 The Age: 2 May 1901, p. 6. The pattern no doubt reflected the number of female medical practitioners in Collins Street at the time. 34 John Rickard: Australia – a cultural history, p. 189. “Aborigines could hardly be treated as immigrants, but, more tellingly, they could be ignored, their very existence almost expunged from the 256 had voted in South Australia, New South Wales, Victoria and Tasmania as well as women in South Australia and Western Australia voted in the first Federal Elections. 35 However, the Commonwealth Franchise Act of 1902 formalised both the vote for all Australian women, and disenfranchised all Aboriginal people, and it would not be until the Commonwealth Electoral Act was amended in 1962 that this right would return. 36 Aboriginals however were not totally ignored during Federation celebrations. There was a significant Aboriginal Arch in Brisbane that was later viewed by the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York. 37 The first of the Brisbane arches was a standard Royal Arch or Grand Arch that was described in a laudably parochial fashion to be “the best arch that has ever yet been constructed in Australia”. 38 More significantly, the second remaining structure was the Aboriginal Arch, seeming to stand as a reflection of “Aboriginal culture and native Australiana”. Apparently, two solid piers carefully covered with tea-tree bark, grass trees, stag horns and bird’s nest ferns were each topped by a “typical aboriginal gunyah.” 39 The piers were connected by an arch meant to represent bush covered rock ledges. As with the Coal Arch in Sydney, people were actually integrated into the arch presentation, with sixty Aboriginal men on the stepped piers and arch. Aboriginal men and women were also placed around the arch by Mr A Meston, the Queensland State Protector of Aborigines, who went to the effort of securing a quantity of tea-tree bark from Pialba near Hervey Bay to cover the wooden frame. These people were obviously not local, since they were brought to Brisbane especially for the event, and were camped at the sensitively named Woolloongabba Sports Ground. 40 The Brisbane Courier described the arch as “one of the most original and tasteful [sic] conceptions of the whole display.” 41 national consciousness. So the Constitution laid down that they should not be counted at the census as members of the Australian population.” 35 NSW State Archives: Federation 1901-1914 online database, p. 1. 36 Australian Electoral Commission: History if the Indigenous vote online database. “In March 1962 the Commonwealth Electoral Act was amended to provide that Indigenous people could enrol to vote in federal elections if they wished. Unlike other Australians it was not compulsory for them to enrol. It was also an offence for anyone to use undue influence or pressure to induce them to enrol. Once they enrolled, however, voting was compulsory.” 37 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 9. The Royal party had departed Melbourne on 18 May 1901, after the formal opening of Federal Parliament, and took “a quiet train journey of thirteen hundred miles” to Brisbane. During the two day excursion, the Duke and Duchess presented themselves to the populations of the towns and cities along the route, and arrived in Brisbane on the morning of Monday 20 May. They were then taken on a ceremonial tour through the city, passing the two arches that remained from the earlier January celebrations. 38 The Brisbane Courier: 11 May 1901, p. 5. 39 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, pp. 95, 97. 40 The Queenslander: 4 May 1901, p. 872. 41 The Brisbane Courier: 21 May 1901, p. 5. 257 This would appear to eloquently combine that mix of patronising condescension, overt racism and even inverted racism that has characterised much public opinion toward Australian Aboriginals over the last century. 42 As Markus states, at the time of Federation Australia’s original inhabitants were considered doomed to extinction. 43 Only by the 1930s were welfare policies being considered, and as Markus also notes, it was the conservative John McEwan who, as Federal Minister for the Interior in 1939, stated that “the objective of government policy in the Northern Territory was the raising of the status of Aboriginals to enable them by right and qualification to the ordinary rights of citizenship.” 44 A further notable omission from the two Federation parades was any considerable representation from the business community. To what degree were the Vice Regal representatives themselves regarded as bastions of the corporate and political establishment; or were they viewed as actually separate from this commercial world? 45 Certainly with the more restricted power of the British monarchy, Queen Victoria appeared throughout the celebrations as a cherished figure head with little connection to the political world that had brought the Federation into being in the first place. Business and political leaders were not necessarily so regarded, with Alfred Deakin’s quote in the Morning Post quite telling. As anticipated by those behind the scenes, what may be termed the aristocratic side of the display was as great a failure as the democratic aspect of it was a success. There was, for instance, no proper provision for the reception and accommodation of many of our most distinguished guests. Partly owing to the unsuitable quarters provided some of them changed their lodgings, and, no record being kept of their new addresses, they were altogether lost to view. There was, again, nowhere any proper discrimination. The official table of precedence was so much departed from that certain dignitaries refused 42 Ann Curthoys and Andrew Markus: Who are our Enemies? p.147. Note the opinion of the Communist Party of Australia in 1922: “The blacks are by no means as bad as they are painted.” Painted by whom? As with the working class, women and non-British migrants, there has always existed the strange inability of fashionable opinion to regard those within such groups with calm balance and objectivity. They are considered either far worse than reality would imply, or far better than reality would imply; often at the same time. 43 Ann Curthoys and Andrew Markus: Who are our Enemies? p.145. 44 Ann Curthoys and Andrew Markus: Who are our Enemies? p.145. 45 Paul Pickering: Hearts of Millions – Chartism and Popular Monarchism in the 1840s, History, vol. 88 issue 290 pp. 227-248. “Of course anti-parliamentary sentiments, calls for strong leadership or veneration for some supposed golden age were not necessarily anti-monarchical: Chartists said much the same in relation to past monarchs such as Alfred the Great and ‘Good Queen Bess’, Elizabeth I.” 258 to join the procession. The distribution of seats at the state banquet also produced innumerable heart burnings. The crowds outside were admirably provided for; but the more official side of the proceedings was not quite the success that it might easily have been. 46 As well as the Chamber of Manufactures’ Column that was present in Collins Street Melbourne, Milne mentions that there had also been a Sydney Arch of Commerce and Manufacture initially proposed for the entrance to Randwick Road and Moore Park. 47 This was part of a planning exercise that would have seen the original parade march down Randwick Road, now Anzac Parade, and turn left at Cleveland Street to enter Centennial Park from the west, at what is now Federation Place. Measurements indicate that this route’s distance would have been identical to the two and a half kilometres from Taylor Square along the eventual Oxford Street route, although the marchers would have been tramping through open parkland, adjacent to the city’s tip and zoo, rather than through the fashionable Eastern Suburbs. 48 One other absent group that strikes the modern footstepper is that of the sportsman. Perhaps the far greater significance placed upon sporting personalities today is one social difference to the Australia of a century ago. Sportsmen were of significance at the time, although not of the social standing to have been regarded as representative of the wider society. Professional sports had evolved at the time with social changes such as Saturday afternoon recreation and the availability of public transport to and from events. Football, cycling and boxing were all popular, although prior to the influence of the amateur ideal of the Olympic Games were also regarded as having a disreputable air about them. 49 The modern notion of sport as an integral part of the wider community was more limited, with not even cricketers included in any of the parades, even though 46 Cairns Morning Post: 8 January 1901, p. 3. 47 Tessa Milne: Archways to Federation – The story of the Celebratory Arches of 1901, p. 18. This would have been located at the, then, aptly named Federation Place, where Anzac Parade (then Randwick Road) junctions with Cleveland Street and the now Lang Road. The nomenclature of Federation Place and Federation Way has never, to my knowledge, been used for this location apart from on the NSW Government’s Centennial Parklands on line guide. Interestingly, the greatest historical claim to fame for this intersection is its setting next to Mount Rennie, the site of the infamous 1886 rape. 48 Gregory’s: Sydney Street Directory 1934, maps 7, 8. 49 Gordon Cheers: Australia Through Time, p. 145. 259 Federation sporting events were held in the evenings and on the weekends of the Federation celebrations. 50 THE IMAGINED AUSTRALIAN COMMUNITY What have we learned about this Australian community that was being imagined at the time? In particular, what have we learned by footstepping that may have been previously overlooked or even ignored? How have this methodology and the results of my investigation added to the historical record of the time? There did appear to have been a dichotomy in feelings towards the nation’s British heritage in terms of practical and cultural support which was evident through both the respect accorded to Queen Victoria and the notable presence of the military. As mentioned, on the one hand, there was the proud expression of being a member of the largest empire and most dominant culture in the world, but at the same time, a sense of being an endangered outpost of this culture. While this may appear to embody contradictions, at the time of Federation people did not consider this to be the case. Here Ernesto Laclau’s evaluation of Benedict Anderson’s sense of community is revealing. Let’s put it bluntly; a national community is not one whose particularism excludes all kinds of universal reference, but one whose relation between universality and particularity is negotiated in a different way than the communities claiming to be strictly universal…in the case of the national community – and in other comparable cases – the limits of the community – i.e. its difference from other communities – determine what the community actually is. 51 The community is limited in this degree, but not limited in the variety and inclusiveness that it can encompass. The concept of a newly Federated nation expressing a new level of independence thus did not exclude reverence for the British monarchy. If anything, it 50 The Sydney Morning Herald: 1 January 1901, p. 3. “Monster Swimming Carnival and Highland Gathering.” The Age: 11 May 1901, p. 11. Note that there was even a Commonwealth Challenge Cup for Greyhounds. 51 Peng Cheah and Jonathan Culler: Grounds of Comparison – around the world of Benedict Anderson, pp. 27-28. “Communities in a globalised world constantly oscillate within this set of contradictory possibilities, where ethnocentric universalism or particularisms are always possible, but where a universal assertion of national and cultural diversity is also a non-excluded alternative.” 260 increased it as a form of sentimental unification, as well as a more pragmatic source of protection for the newly unified but still isolated country. The newly created Australia thus appeared both united but also proudly imperial. This was not just a reflection of the press but appeared genuine throughout most of the population. The enthusiasm for all things British and the enthusiasm even for Britain’s foreign wars (and later of course, the First World War) indicated an underlying need to be a part, and to be seen to be a part, of an empire that was still the strongest political force in the world. What was therefore evident through footstepping the Federation parades was the greater fluidity over time in the political and cultural ideals expressed by the general population. What is seen from the distance of a century as the confusion of continual changeability in attitudes and politicking in both the lead up to Federation and its expression through the parades, may well have been a population constantly reacting to circumstances at the time, without feeling that they need to justify themselves to a later sense of historical logic. One could argue that the lack of constancy and consistency on the part of leaders such as Henry Parkes and George “yes/no” Reid was the very adaptable change and compromise that was eventually to result in wide enough community support for Federation for it to be democratically accepted. 52 The same flexibility of opinion reflected the immediacy of contact with non-British members of the community, resulting in the conscious recognition of issues that migrant groups raised in the community as well as the recognition of the benefits and even the essentials that such migrants also supplied. This meant that the wide-ranging dismissal or acceptance of views that characterises modern discourse appeared rare. I would argue that modern attitudes tend to be borne of cultural distance and isolation from the actual positioning of cultural issues, and this was not the case a century ago. If attitudes towards the creation of a newly Federated nation were limited in the degree to which they were reported at the time, and in how we therefore interpret them today, then it should be possible to widen an understanding of the opinions presented on national and cultural acceptance. Will a student of history in a century’s time be footstepping the streets of Auburn and Richmond to uncover attitudes and posit opinions that are not 52 That the Australian Republican Movement a century later adopted the narrower focus of only one restricted and restrictive convention, followed by only the one “take it or leave it” referendum perhaps indicates that we have not learned that much from history. 261 being presented in the media of today, and which are overlooked by current commentators? Opinions on what constituted membership of even Anglo-Australian society varied then, as it does now. While the national tenor appeared strongly pro-Australian, there was a practical transience with many avowed nationalists and republicans still returning back to mother Britain. This tendency also reflects the importance of the financial imperative behind their original emigration to Australia. If emigration was the result of the threat of political or religious persecution in the old country, there would have been less of an interest in returning “home”. Financial pressure, however, placed additional pressure onto the immigrants, and would no doubt have driven their desire to improve themselves within the developing democratic process, rather than undermining it. If the newly arrived did not better themselves socially and financially, then there would appear to have been little point emigrating in the first place. 53 Since this was reflected at all levels of society, Federation also symbolised a widening of the concept of radicalism amongst the nascent labour movement. Workers appeared more inclined to want power over the means of production and gain influence over the political system rather than overthrow it. While Australia was becoming regarded as a better Britain in everyday practical terms, what came across through both the press and my experience of footstepping the marches was that Australia was still not regarded as comparable to the real Britain, at least by those who viewed their position culturally. The nation was British, but perhaps less of England than of an “England of the imagination”. 54 Australia therefore quickly adopted the advanced technology of the time, with metal casting, iron building frames and large scale water supply systems. However, due to population size limitations, engineers were often unable to fully develop their ideas in economic terms. While defence and racial fears are often advanced as the reasons behind the desire to expand the population, the simple financial imperative to improve economies of scale would also have been equally important. 55 This interconnectedness with the rapid adoption of modern technology was also mirrored in the general Australian population then as it is today. As a nation populated primarily by free 53 As noted by the previously mentioned numbers of those returning to Britain as a result of the 1890s Depression. 54 Hence the attraction of those who continued (and continue) to go “home”. 55 In a situation that exists to this day, industries that do not have a level of government support find it difficult to compete with mass production from overseas. 262 settlers, Australia naturally selected for those who looked to the future. Were Australians, by the nature of their settlement, primed to look to the potential with all its possibilities, and less inclined to dwell on a real or imagined past? Certainly the arches themselves would indicate so. Not only did they generally consist of the most modern construction techniques, even allowing for their classical and traditional style, but their very temporality hinted at a society anxious to look more to the future. This subconscious sense of the temporary therefore reflected a wider national characteristic evident even today. 56 There are still few significant permanent markers indicating that Federation had taken place, while attempts at the time to engender a physical sense of permanence to the celebrations proved singularly ineffective. Although apparently planned to be permanent, the Commonwealth Arch in Park Street Sydney remained a most temporary structure, as was the Municipal Arch on Princes Bridge in Melbourne. The Centenary Arch erected in 2001 on Princes Bridge appeared to do little to inspire commemoration, and while the central location of Federation Square does give a sense of presence to the concept, I doubt whether those generally young folk attending events there ever stop to ponder the significance of the Federation that the square commemorates. Apart from some markers in the footpath and a couple of forlorn trees, there is little else to draw one’s attention to the cultural intention behind the site. As previously mentioned, Sydney’s own Federation Square, created at the intersection of Randwick Road, Cleveland Street and Lang Road has hardly ever been used and certainly was not listed as such even in the 1934 Sydney Road Directory. Plans for a permanent memorial, either at the time, or more recently for the centenary of Federation, have not been inspiring, with the most impressive commemoration, the pavilion in Centennial Park, notable for having been built at the wrong time. What was, however, noticeable footstepping around both cities were the number of statues presented as examples of very permanent public art. This could be construed as both an expression of political power, based on their subject matter, but also, by their very existence and perceived significance, a reflection on the more communal nature of the society. The public art in both bronze and stone statuary was certainly of a 56 Apperly, Irving, Reynolds: A Pictorial Guide to Identifying Australian Architecture, p. 260. Glenn Murcutt 1995, Touch the Earth Lightly online database. It is interesting that the Australian architect Glenn Murcutt has presented the ideal of “touching the earth lightly.” Is this temporality and unwillingness to lay a solid foundation into the ground, either architecturally or structurally with a permanent arch, a reaction to this unresolved issue? 263 traditional classical form, with some of the bronze figures being copies of overseas originals and having to be cast with some difficulty in the less than mass industrial culture. Architectural styles have appeared to follow the international or empire fashion of the time, although up to Federation these reflected, and were more restricted by, the locally available materials. Davison describes the effect of the rapid growth of Melbourne, in particular, prior to Federation: “The buildings of Melbourne are perhaps a better guide to its citizens’ aspirations than their cultural achievements.” 57 He goes on to point out that, “Melbourne’s architecture bespoke a preoccupation with metropolitan and even imperial aspirations, shamelessly aping the classical modes of Greece, Rome and Renaissance Italy.” 58 However, the city, like others around the empire was really only aping the same style, if not the slower development, of other major cities in Europe and America. Culturally, the nation also continued to uphold the long held mythology of the bush ideal, notably expressed in the Stockman’s parade in Melbourne. However, the city reality of an urban based industrial working nation was demonstrated through the major parades themselves and even their organisation. While some arches noted the importance of agricultural enterprise, the two Federation marches actually presented themselves as a celebration of the city life that had evolved in Australia in a relatively short period of time. Although writers such as Paterson, Lawson and Dennis critiqued the experience of the industrial city, in the reality of their everyday existence, they themselves continued to live the urban life. 59 Thus, although race was evident as a defining characteristic of the period, the issue of social class appeared equally significant. While the staunch upright and responsible working class was an integral a part of the marches and the celebrations, the underclass denizens of Little Lon’ and Wexford Street were, in many respects, more isolated than the Chinese. They did not have an arch or a formal role in the parades. As with the plague areas above Darling Harbour in Sydney, they were by-passed both physically and culturally. The newly federated Australian society thus appeared to express varying degrees of racial and cultural tolerance and intolerance, with opinions toward its non- British members being determined as much by acceptability or unacceptability on the 57 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 233. 58 Graeme Davison: The Rise and Fall of Marvellous Melbourne, 1978, p. 233. 59 Even Henry Lawson, born as he was in rural poverty, constantly returned to Sydney and ended his days living in inner city urban poverty. 264 part of members of these groups as by any overt racism on the part of the host nation. Whether it was a political threat from another developing European nation such as Germany, a financial and quality of life threat from the Chinese, or a health and physical threat from a white underclass, there was little attempt to mask attitudes that were obviously felt to be understandable at the time. Religious tolerance, to a degree, was also evident as part of this imagined community although generally within the confines of Christianity. The newly imagined Australia was to be secular but still nominally Christian, so that despite sectarianism, British and Christian also included Irish and Catholic to a greater degree than would have been the case in England; 60 with a practical accommodation that appeared more social and political than doctrinaire. The only other religious buildings that appeared close to the marches were Jewish Synagogues. The large Central Synagogue in Elizabeth Street Sydney and the smaller but impressive Synagogue in Bourke Street Melbourne were either passed, or would certainly have been noticed, by the marchers. There were no mosques in either city, while Chinese temples or “Joss Houses” in the internal Little Bourke Street would have been no doubt considered quaint attractions (or moral threats through the presence of opium) rather than religious institutions. The Chinese religion itself appeared to be accepted as part of their culture, partly because its insular and non- evangelical nature meant that it was not a threat to the outside community. 61 What was, however, noticeable in both Wexford Street in Sydney and the Chinese Quarter of Melbourne was the degree to which the Chinese adopted Western Christian institutions. Many of the Protestant denominations were present through specifically Chinese churches, although these were also in districts bypassed by the marches. Their smaller size would have put them outside both the conscious and subconscious consideration of the march organisers and participants. This then linked in with the most significant aspect of racial and cultural acceptance. The parades presented an Australia that was financially and culturally aspirational, 62 and consequently any group that would threaten this aspiration had to be controlled or 60 Although still a figure of mockery and fun, the Irish Catholics (as most Catholics were) were finding a place in society that they would not have attained back in either England or Ireland. Although still under- represented per head of population, the situation was changing, and those in government appeared to suffer little discrimination on the basis of race or religion. 61 That Christianity should be allowed to proselytise throughout China appeared not to be considered in conflict with this notion, although of course many Chinese expressed this conflict through the Boxer Rebellion. 62 This, again, was one of the prime reasons why people came out to Australia in the first place. 265 expelled. Cultural and racial differences were tolerated while ever the numbers of outsiders did not present a threat. Hence, Italians, Germans and Jews were perceived as different and often sources of amusement, but were also accepted within the community, while the potential numbers of Chinese, rather than Chinese people themselves were the threat. I uncovered the roles that Italian, Croatian and Chinese people played, not only in the actual celebrations themselves but in the wider community of the time, to the degree that placing one’s life in the hands of Italian doctors, Chinese cooks, Italian weather forecasters, and purchasing items from Chinese and Jewish retailers were treated as a normal part of everyday life. Even the employing of Italian masons such as Tomaso Sani to carve the façade on the new General Post Office, the most prestigious new building in the city, was seen as taking advantage of the traditional skill of a local resident who happened to be non-British. What was evident from comparing the footstepping of the actual routes of the two parades with the legislation introduced by the governments of the day was this disparity between the formal attitudes expressed towards non-British members of the community and the way these people were actually regarded and treated by this community. Articles, media reports and the formal written word that the footstepper relied on to provide the skeleton of the investigation were all expressing one point of view, while the actual experience of footstepping through the thick description of the routes themselves was presenting a society with a far more relaxed attitude to everyday living with the same varying cultural groups. REFLECTION As well as adding to the historical record, I also considered how my thesis might add to historical practice and the research process. If the distinctive methodology of footstepping through the process of re-enacting and getting inside specific episodes does provide a valid analysis of the two major Federation parades, then to what degree can it be replicated for historical studies of other historical events? The test of its real effectiveness would be not only whether it was possible to evaluate these two particular events in two specific cities, and determine the attitudes of the nation to the non-British members of the community in its midst, but whether footstepping could be adapted to 266 analyse other overlooked aspects of one’s own culture and aspects of other and even unknown cultures. All history is subjective to the degree that it must choose specific instances and specific aspects of these instances in order to relate a coherent story. Every part of even a small event cannot be recorded, let alone retold; therefore there is always an element of choice and refinement in deciding what evidence to use. In the case of Sydney my discrimination was influenced by memory and cultural knowledge interacting with the formal methodology, while my analysis of Melbourne centred on a reliance on the written record that has always traditionally formed the foundation of, and has also limited, historical interpretation. While it became obvious the degree to which historians are still dependent upon written records, such records do not have to be the only source of historical evidence. They can serve to introduce aspects of social culture that can then be expanded through processes such as footstepping. The written record of course is still the foundation upon which such history is conveyed once it has been researched. Even oral history and storytelling can only become historically useful when they are written down and transposed from their original source. Cultures that do not employ a written text themselves are able to relay information from one generation to the next by often intricate oral traditions. However, this information remains locked within their culture, and remains at the level of myth and legend until it can be transposed into a wider framework and justified by external verification. In reality, there is no other method for laying down this foundation of historical information apart from the written word, even while we recognise its limitations and cultural restrictions. However, I believe that utilising a thick description of events can enable the historian to enter into historical episodes by accessing additional geographical, cultural and social information to amend these limitations and restrictions. This was the process employed in sociological terms by Ryle to describe the events in Marmusha in 1912 Morocco, and then later used by Geertz to further develop the concept of thick description. Holmes’ practical process of footstepping further expanded this with a methodology of linking written records with the observations obtained by traversing the locations of these events. While my methodology was limited in that it also confirmed that literary sources still need to form the backbone of the historical research process, the degree to which footstepping supplemented these records, did appear practical and successful. 267 One obvious example of this within my thesis was within the Little Lonsdale Street district of Melbourne. I was already familiar with the works of C J Dennis, with knowledge of the existence of the district and its relation to similar areas within the Sydney of 1901. However, when walking the site and noting what remained, and what was consciously and even unconsciously commemorated, this created a link with the Chinese Little Bourke Street area that was both closer to the route of the Federation parade but also less known to me at the time. The fact that the cultural isolation of the social class represented around Little Lon’ contrasted with the acceptance (to some degree) of the Chinese community through their own arch and later parade, demonstrated that it was not race per se that was going to be the determining factor in the newly imagined nation created through Federation. In practical terms, this footstepping methodology would appear to have two distinct applications. On the one hand, it would be and has always been, essential in those fields of historical study where there is no other option, where there are no written or other historical records in existence. Much anthropology, human evolution and pre-history studies consider human communities that have not handed down any written or even oral record. Consequently, all that is left are material remains in the locations where it is supposed that these communities lived. In many of these instances, the physical environment itself has changed over time to a far greater degree than central Sydney and Melbourne, so the imaginative aspects of re-enactment become an even more significant component of footstepping. There are also areas of historical study which, by their nature, have not had a great number of written records assembled at the time. Industrial and migrant history and heritage can often only be approached through the footstepping process. Manufacturing industries usually retain formal written business records but these rarely include the physical environment experienced by the people who worked in these industries. Photographs of streetscapes in the inner west of Sydney, for example, show the large factories that once employed thousands of people during the nation’s industrial boom. However, only by walking around the districts does it become obvious the degree to which geographical and cultural factors influenced the process. Flat land, for example that was prone to flooding and hence restricted for housing often became prime industrial real estate. This development was then made possible through an extended 268 public transport system, whereby the railways and tramways that enabled workers to travel to and from their place of employment, also facilitated the raw materials to be brought into the factories, and finished products removed for consumption. These are now often only visible through a physical investigation of their remnants within the district. 63 However, limitations also became evident through the application of thick description to footstepping. The shortcomings of imaginative re-enactment are understandable, with the risk of relying totally upon imagination and therefore “over guessing” and creating totally false interpretations. Becoming reliant upon physical resources such as maps and photographs and even written records for interpretation can therefore ameliorate this, and was the foundation of Richard Holmes development of literary footstepping in the first place. Where the historian has previous knowledge of a site, personal recollections can assume a greater than expected influence on analysis, while the interpretation of sites where there is no previous personal experience can come to reflect the often limited written opinions that the footstepping process attempts to circumvent in the first place. In summary, the Australian nation may have federated partly to protect itself from the Chinese hordes, but it also celebrated with a Chinese arch and parade. It may have restricted southern Europeans and looked askance at German immigrants but relied upon the food produced by Chinese, Greek, Italian and German farmers. The nation that, through the two parades, proclaimed itself as the workingman’s paradise was reliant upon women as factory workers and even their social support for the parades; and the nation that lauded the staunch common man, owed much of its ever developing standard of living to the enterprise of individuals. A society that was consciously creating a modern, independent, secular community also appeared subconsciously spiritually and emotionally attached to its British heritage, British monarch and an all pervasive, almost inadvertent Christianity. And all this existed within an urban community that happily relished a bushman mythology that even then was really the experience of only a small section of the rural population. One could say that Australia saw itself as egalitarian, but within certain limitations. To paraphrase George Orwell; all Australians were equal, but some were more equal than others. Subconsciously, the 63 This is now often undertaken through either direct footstepping, or through the often invaluable indirect “footstepping” of aerial reconnaissance. 269 parades appeared to present an ethereal ideal in that federated Australia was to be modern and industrial, socially progressive, tolerant and religiously orthodox in theory; but primarily practical, aspirational and communal. All this became evident through the practical application of footstepping and analysed through a thick description of the two Federation parades; a methodology that I believe could prove invaluable as an adjunct to traditional historical enquiry. Perhaps the grounding of such research in the physical experience of society will enable future generations to create imagined communities that more accurately reflect the reality of the experience of all social members. Such footstepping is thus a valid exercise to undertake, but also as an adjunct to other primary and secondary sources of evidence, with written reports still being required to put this more practical process into context. The methodology also lends itself to a further wider adaption, be it analysing other aspects of Australian history and society, or expanding into international fields of research beyond the literary form that Richard Holmes himself has already established. While this has already been done in a format for popular entertainment such current performances tend to relate less to a formal reference base, being under the limitation of a brief presentation window. I believe that by following a more prescribed historical methodology, the technique of footstepping expanded through the interpretive analysis of thick description can provide valuable insights into cultures that may be previously known to the historian, exist as unknown aspects of their own society and nation, or even belong to totally foreign and international communities. Such an academic approach would, in this case, be quite reliant upon the footstepping process and local records where they exist, with fewer preconceptions on the part of the historian. While footstepping does not answer all historical questions and cover all historical issues, and often does not cope with the issues of the individual and biographical as opposed to the communal and historical, it is where practical, an essential component of the historical process. 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PRINCIPAL DATABASES Australian Broadcasting Commission: Australia’s Centenary of Federation, 2000, ABC 100 years, Sydney, Australia. http://www.abc.net.au/federation/fedstory/home.htm Author: Subject, Australian Dictionary of Biography – online, National Centre of Biography, Australian National University, Canberra. http://adb.anu.edu.au/ Australian Broadcasting Commission: Coverage of the Sydney 2000 Olympic Games, Black Tuesday bushfires remembered. http://www.abc.net.au/ http://www.abc.net.au/federation/fedstory/home.htm http://adb.anu.edu.au/ http://www.abc.net.au/ 287 The Australian Club: Australian Club Home. https://theaustralianclub.com.au/ Australian Standards HB 330: Living in bushfire-prone areas; Black Saturday Bushfires. http://www.blacksaturdaybushfires.com.au/ Heritage Victoria: Gordon Reserve and other locations in Melbourne. http://vhd.heritage.vic.gov.au/vhd/heritagevic Historic Houses Trust of NSW: Hyde Park Barracks. http://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/hyde-park-barracks-museum Howard League for Penal Reform. http://www.howardleague.org/ eMelbourne: The City Past & Present. http://www.emelbourne.net.au/ New South Wales Government: Barangaroo Delivery Authority. http://barangaroo.com/ New South Wales Government Centennial Park and Moore Park Trust: Centennial Parklands. http://www.centennialparklands.com.au/ New South Wales Government: Parliament of NSW, 2011, NSW Govt, Sydney, Australia. https://www.parliament.nsw.gov.au/ New South Wales Heritage Council: The Department of Education Building. http://www.environment.nsw.gov.au/Heritage/heritagecouncil/ Public Art: Public Art Around The World. http://www.publicartaroundtheworld.com/ Rail Corporation New South Wales: Southern Aurora celebrates 50 years of rail travel. http://www.transport.nsw.gov.au/railcorp Royal Australian Historical Society: Home Page. http://www.rahs.org.au/ Sydney Vista: Sydney General Post Office. http://www.sydneyvista.com/Sydney-General-Post-Office.html Sydney for Everyone: Lost Tramways. http://sydneyforeveryone.com.au/placecategory/lost-tramways/ http://www.powerhousemuseum.com/insidethecollection/2011/02/sydneys-last-trams/ http://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/stories/shooting-through-sydney-tram https://theaustralianclub.com.au/ http://www.blacksaturdaybushfires.com.au/ http://vhd.heritage.vic.gov.au/vhd/heritagevic http://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/hyde-park-barracks-museum http://www.howardleague.org/ http://www.emelbourne.net.au/ http://barangaroo.com/ http://www.centennialparklands.com.au/ https://www.parliament.nsw.gov.au/ http://www.environment.nsw.gov.au/Heritage/heritagecouncil/ http://www.publicartaroundtheworld.com/ http://www.transport.nsw.gov.au/railcorp http://www.rahs.org.au/ http://www.sydneyvista.com/Sydney-General-Post-Office.html http://sydneyforeveryone.com.au/placecategory/lost-tramways/ http://www.powerhousemuseum.com/insidethecollection/2011/02/sydneys-last-trams/ http://sydneylivingmuseums.com.au/stories/shooting-through-sydney-tram 288 The Victorian Web: Charles George Gordon and other subjects in Melbourne. http://www.victorianweb.org/ Heritage Council of Victoria: State Parliament House. http://heritagecouncil.vic.gov.au/ http://www.victorianweb.org/ http://heritagecouncil.vic.gov.au/ FOOTSTEPPING TO FEDERATION An alternative approach to analysing Australian Society at the beginning of the Twentieth Century. SYDNEY FEDERATION PARADE PHOTOGRAPH BOOKLET VOLUME 1 Eric Carpenter Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 1 9/19/2016 11:05:02 AM 1 SYDNEY MARCH The Sydney Morning Herald: 2 January 1901, p. 12. The route of the Sydney Federation parade through the city. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 1 9/19/2016 11:05:12 AM 2 1. ARRIVAL IN SYDNEY Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 2 9/19/2016 11:05:13 AM 3 The Sydney Daily Telegraph: 2 January 1901, p. 8. The route of the Sydney parade out to Centennial Park. 1107. Sydney’s Land Titles Offi ce exempli- fi es the elegant possibilities of the local sandstone, and is typical of structures that still domonate the eastern side of the city. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 3 9/19/2016 11:05:14 AM 4 2. COMMENCEMENT OF THE MARCH Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 4 9/19/2016 11:05:15 AM 5 1105. The State Art Gallery of NSW today. It was on the fi eld before this newly constructed institution that the Federation parade assembled prior to its 10:00am commencement on 1 January 1901. 1098. The broad expanse of the Outer Domain, as it would have been in 1901. This was the most suitable location for assembling the huge number of march participants. The large fi eld still hosts major events such as rock concerts and Christmas carols by candlelight. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 5 9/19/2016 11:05:16 AM 6 1101. Robbie Burns on Art GalleryRoad, between the Art Gallery and the entry gates. Although erected in 1905, a few years after Federation, Burns’ romantic ideals of nationalism would have struck a chord, not only with Sydney’s infl uential Scottish population. 1097. Th e point where Prince Albert Road on the left , now joins the more recent Art Gallery Road on the right; which now goes out to Mrs Macquarie’s Chair. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 6 9/19/2016 11:05:17 AM 7 1099. The Coal Arch location today, looking back down the remnant Prince Albert Road into the Domain. Note the degree to which the wide Moreton Bay fi g trees bordering the open spaces have grown over the road. National Library of Australia: nla.pic an 13143006-8. The Coal Arch in place near the Domain Gates in 1901. Prince Albert Road was then the main thoroughfare through the Domain. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 7 9/19/2016 11:05:18 AM 8 3. RACE AND RELIGION Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 8 9/19/2016 11:05:19 AM 9 Powerhouse Museum collection: 239- 2429893881-422cff7. View from St Mary’s to Govern- ment House and Sydney Harbour. The partially constructed Art Gal- lery in the mid ground would date the image to around 1900. This view, with the still separated Garden Island in the background indicates the dominant position of the site. St Mary’s Cathedral: World Youth Day database. This modern aerial view of St Mary’s Cathedral indicates its pre-eminent position even today. The vegetation would have been less obscuring a century ago as the march would have passed by the lower left, where the modern traffi c lights control the intersection. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 9 9/19/2016 11:05:19 AM 10 National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an 13148760-s42. The Coal Arch location looking forward through an additional fl oral arch to St Mary’s Cathedral. This structure commemo- rated the visit of the Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York late in May 1901, on their return from the opening of the Federal Parliament in Melbourne. A century ago, there were fewer trees, and the road surface is indicative of horse trans- port rather than the later automobile. 1096. Looking from Coal Arch site through the Domain Gates south to St Mary’s Cathedral today. Note the current alignment visible through the overgrowth of vegetation. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 10 9/19/2016 11:05:20 AM 11 State Library of Victoria: H21766 b52333. St Mary’s from Hyde Park in 1900, indicating the southern end and main entry yet to be constructed. The cathe- dral has long been the focal point for Sydney’s infl uential Irish Catholic community. 1094. The corner of St Mary’s that had been completed in 1901, and where Archbishop Moran sat, presiding over his demonstartion at the passing parade. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 11 9/19/2016 11:05:21 AM 12 1201. Cardinal Moran now dominates the main southern entrance to St Mary’s Cathedral, symbolically placing his blessing upon the modern city of Sydney. 1091. Statue of Australia’s patron saint, St Mary, Help of Christians, in the western Chapel of the Sacred Heart in St Mary’s Cathedral. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 12 9/19/2016 11:05:22 AM 13 4. CITY DEVELOPMENT Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 13 9/19/2016 11:05:22 AM 14 1110. The drinking fountain at the junction of St Mary’s Rd and Prince Albert Road. This was constructed by L Beveridge and donated to the city by Mayor John Hardie in 1884. 1411. The other remaining Beveridge drinking fountain in Hyde Park. This facility is still used by young boys on their way to the Australian Museum and Sydney Boys’ Grammar School in College Street. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 14 9/19/2016 11:05:23 AM 15 1108. Land Titles Offi ce. At the time of Federation, this was a mix of legal offi ces, including the Equity Court, Registrar of Pro- bates and Intestate Estates Offi ce, and even the Master of Lunacy, H F Barton. Sydney Celebrates: One Destiny, The Federation Story project. Queen Victoria festooned with decorations for the Federation celebrations. This is surely indicative of the genuine warmth and affection with which the monarch was held at the time. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 15 9/19/2016 11:05:25 AM 16 City of Sydney Libary: 037/037156. Queen’s Square in 1900 looking west to St James’s Church. Hyde Park is on the left and the Law Courts precinct to the right. 1114. Queen’s Square and Queen Victoria today. Having been moved to accommodate traffi c expansions during the 1960s, and the establishment of pedestrian precincts in the 1990s, Her Majesty seems to have found a level of permanence. She has even turned to the left, if only to look back at St James, the hub of old Anglicanism, rather than previously glowering across at St Mary’s Cathedral. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 16 9/19/2016 11:05:25 AM 17 1111. Hyde Park Barracks today. By Federation, the military had moved out to Victoria Barracks, and this building was being used as the Metropolitan District Court. 1116. The local brickwork on the front of Francis Greenway’s Barracks facing Macquarie Street. This is now one of the prime tourist attractions of the city. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 17 9/19/2016 11:05:27 AM 18 5. MACQUARIE STREET AND THE OLD CITY Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 18 9/19/2016 11:05:28 AM 19 Sydney Celebrates: One Destiny, The Federation Story project. The view looking down Macquarie Street in 1901 with the fl ags and bunting for the parade. The original railings for the Mint are evident on the right of the photograph. 1117. Macquarie Street looking north today. Flags and fl ag poles remain, although the gentle- men’s residences on the left hand side of the road have long been replaced with offi ces. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 19 9/19/2016 11:05:29 AM 20 1120. The Mint today. Little has changed with the conserved heritage building. Sydney Celebrates: One Destiny, The Federation Story project. The parade, passing the Mint, evident by the stone gate supports and railings, and St Mary’s in the top left background. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 20 9/19/2016 11:05:30 AM 21 1123. St Stephen’s Presbyterian / Uniting Church, now occupying the site of Burdekin House, and directly oppo- site State Parliament House. State Library of NSW: Home and Away 35178. Burdekin House at the time of Federation. This gentlemen’s residence was replaced by St Stephen’s Church in 1933, at the time of the extension of Martin Place. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 21 9/19/2016 11:05:31 AM 22 1132. 147 Macquarie Street. The former dental surgery and current Roy- al Australian College of Physicians still remains. State Library of NSW: Home and Away 35064. Houses on Macquarie Street. These fi ne residenc- es fi lled the western side of the street between Bent Street and the Law Courts at Queens’ Square. They subsequently became medical offi ces before many were demolished in the 1950s and 1960s for the current offi ce buildings. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 22 9/19/2016 11:05:32 AM 23 0033. Sydney’s State Parliament House today, with a new “heritage” coat of paint. 1212. Former McDonagh Medical Surgery and curent Horbury Heritage Terrace at 173 Macquarie Street, now opposite the Mitchell Library. The site of the original Aus- tralia Club to the right is now just another tall city building. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 23 9/19/2016 11:05:33 AM 24 1135. The Mitchell Library and Shakespeare Place from the site of the old library. At the time of the Federation Parade, these expansive locations were only just becoming appreciated. 1206. The Sydney Hospital was also a new institution at the time of the Fed- eration Parade, although the copy of Pietro Tacca’s 1634 Il Porcellino only dates from 1967. In an interesting example of the degree to which memory can play tricks, this statue has always seemed to have been in its place from much earlier. It was donated by Clarissa, the Marchesa Torrigiani to commemorate her father, the surgeon, Th omas Fiaschi. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 24 9/19/2016 11:05:34 AM 25 National Library of Australia: nla.pic 3084399 v. The forecourt of the new Mitchell Library prior to the Second World War. This Shakespeare Place will soon be divided by the Cahill Expressway exiting at the far right. Jeffrey Smart: The Tunnel 1962. Note the statue of Shakespeare above the new Cahill Expressway tunnel entrance. Jeffrey Smart’s artistic interpretation has been compressed with the relocated statue now in the forecourt of the Mitchell Library. Interstingly, the yellow stylised building in the left background would be one of the few remaining images of the original Mitchell Library. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 25 9/19/2016 11:05:35 AM 26 Sydney Celebrates: One Destiny, The Federation Story project. View of the corner of Macquarie Street and Bent Street from the balcony of the original Mitchell Library looking across to the origi- nal Australia Club as the Federation March passes by in 1901. 1136. The corner of Bent Street today, with Hambros House and the modern Australia Club still occupying the site. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 26 9/19/2016 11:05:37 AM 27 6. THE MODERN CITY Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 27 9/19/2016 11:05:38 AM 28 1445. The Governor Phillip Memorial today, with the later Michell Library now in the background fi lling the previously vacant and under-appreciated space. State Records Authority of NSW: 5010361286. The magnifi cent International Exhibition Garden Palace after its opening in September 1879. National Library of Australia: nla.pic-vn4278190. The Governor Phillip Memorial that has occupied the site since 1897. Note the new Sydney Hospital building in the distance, Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 28 9/19/2016 11:05:38 AM 29 1138. The former State Treasury Building, now the façade for the Intercontinental Hotel, on the northern corner of Bridge Street. 1139. Th e Colonial Secretary’s Offi ce, now Chief Secretary’s Offi ce, today on the opposite corner is still a govern- ment building and the sometime offi ce of the State Governor. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 29 9/19/2016 11:05:40 AM 30 Powerhouse Museum Collection: 28116_3004413242. View from Government House Gates down Bridge Street prior to the 1901 celebrations. Th e Colonial Secretary’s Offi ce stands on the left , and the Treasury Building on the right. 1448. While Queen Victoria has been honoured with two large, and many smaller statues throughout the city, her son, King Edward VII’s imposing statue is now rather sidelined, aft er also been moved to accommodate modern traffi c fl ow. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 30 9/19/2016 11:05:41 AM 31 1435. Th e entry to Government House today is little more than a busy convoluted roadway intersection with the main traffi c fl ow going down into the Harbour Tunnel. Th e entry gates were moved further down the road and now remain forlornly in the right back- ground. University of Melbourne: UMA/I/4550. Government House Gates exuberantly decorated for the arrival of the new Australian Governor General, Lord Hopetoun. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 31 9/19/2016 11:05:42 AM 32 7. INDUSTRY AND AGRICULTURE Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 32 9/19/2016 11:05:43 AM 33 National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an11030057-404. Th e march turned this same cor- ner down into Bridge Street past the Colonial Secretary’s Building. Note the Floral Arch at the entry to Government House in the background. 1140. Th e point where the march turned left into Bridge Street today. Th e preservation of the glorious Sydney sandstone buildings in Macquarie and Bridge Streets makes this eastern district still one of the most popular precincts of the city. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 33 9/19/2016 11:05:44 AM 34 1219. Th e site of the old Tramway Manager’s residence and tram terminus at No 60 Bridge Street is now the rear entry for the Intercontinental Hotel. 1144. 36 to 42 Young Street. As with the preserved terraces around the corner in Phillip Street, these are all that remain of original inner city living from the nineteenth century. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 34 9/19/2016 11:05:45 AM 35 1142. Th e Museum of Sydney, formerly a small parking space between Phillip and Young Streets. Th is was discoverd to be the site of the original Government House. Note the back of the Young Street terraces on the right. State Library of Victoria: H18534 a14748. 1900 view down Bridge Street, with the famous Fig Tree still occupying the side of the Department of Education site. Th is tree was one of the many landmarks lit up for the Federation festivities. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 35 9/19/2016 11:05:46 AM 36 National Library of Australia: nla.pic an13143006-6. Th e Wool Arch looking downhill from the corner of Bridge and Loft us Streets. Th e Wheat Arch is in the background. 1141. Th e view down Bridge Street today, past the Young Street terraces. Note the steepness of the street, although the march would have been going down hill in 1901. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 36 9/19/2016 11:05:48 AM 37 Th e City of Sydney Image Library: 044\044118. Th e procession down Bridge Street from Macquarie Place, passing the Department of Lands and under the Wheat Arch. 1148. Th e Department of Lands from the same Macquarie Place location today. Th is photo again embodies the classical heritage of the precinct, with the Department of Educa- tion, formerly the Department of Public Instruction behind. Th is latter building was still incomplete at the time of the march, with its current façade not yet constructed. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 37 9/19/2016 11:05:49 AM 38 State Library of NSW: perier_34375. Th e view back from the rather bedraggled Wheat Arch to the Wool Arch. Macquarie Place is on the left , with the imposing statue of Th omas Sutcliff e Mort just visible. 1146. Th e site of the two arches today. Macquarie Place is on the right, and the white Ex- change Building centre fi eld, marking Pitt Street, and the point where the march turned left , rather than continuing on to George Street in the distance. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 38 9/19/2016 11:05:50 AM 39 1222. Th e later Exchange Building from Macquarie Place. Th ese harsh white offi ces appear less attractive than the original Stock Exchange. National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an10834037-s11-v. Th e original Sydney Stock Exchange in 1900 seems to blend sympa- thetically into the streetscape. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 39 9/19/2016 11:05:51 AM 40 1429. Th e current Stock Exchange diagonally across from the Exchange Building. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 40 9/19/2016 11:05:52 AM 41 1430. Th e original marker in Macquarie Place from whence all distances in NSW were measured. With the later construction of the GPO, tradition dictated this new building to assume the role. 1147. Th omas Sutcliff e Mort still dominates Macquarie Place. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 41 9/19/2016 11:05:53 AM 42 8. JOURNAL OF THE PLAGUE YEAR Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 42 9/19/2016 11:05:55 AM 43 NSW Government Records Offi ce: 12487 a021 a021000038. Th e corner of Margaret and Clarence Streets in 1900 during the clean-up as a result of the plague. St Philip’s Anglican Church is most notable in the background. 1473. Th e corner of Margaret and Clarence Streets today, with the Australian Academy build- ing, and other skyscrapers fi lling the block. In the background is the Western Distributor from the Sydney Harbour Bridge. Th e original geographical marker of St Philip’s Angli- can Church is still in existence, although now buried among the tall buildings. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 43 9/19/2016 11:05:56 AM 44 1490. Watch House terraces from 60-80 Erskine Street, between Kent and Clarence and Streets. Th ese heritage listed buildings, including the police watch house on the corner, were well established by the time of the plague, and would have provided support and accommo- dation for those who lost their homes in the clean-up. Kent Street on the left now serves as little more than as an access road to the Harbour Bridge and the Rocks. 1478. Slum clearance and redevelopment by the Port Authority soon aft er Federation resulted in Margaret Street being replaced by the more gradual sloped Napoleon Street, providing access for horse drawn vehicles to the developed dock areas. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 44 9/19/2016 11:05:57 AM 45 NSW Government Records Offi ce: 12487 a021 a021000035. Sussex Street looking south from Margaret Street in 1900. Again, rubbish is being cleared out from the residences as part of the plague clean-up. 1477. Sussex Street looking south from Margaret and Napoleon Streets today. Th e residential district has long gone and the area is now part of the corporate city. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 45 9/19/2016 11:05:59 AM 46 1475. Th e location of 64 Sussex Street today. Th e housing has been demolished to make way for expressways and pedes- trian access. NSW Government Records Offi ce: 12487 a021 a021000021. Reconstruction of the house at 64 Sussex Street aft er cleaning and disin- fecting. An indication of how seri- ously cleanliness was taken aft er the outbreak of plague. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 46 9/19/2016 11:06:00 AM 47 1486. While the heritage value of the site is now recognised, it sits as an isolated pocket be- tween overpasses and modern glass towers . 1483. Alignments such as Sussex Lane remain to give a glimpse of what the district must have been like. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 47 9/19/2016 11:06:01 AM 48 1481. Barangaroo Redevelopment and palimpsest on a grand industrial scale. Th e small wooden docks in Darling Harbour were rebuilt aft er Federation, to be replaced by concrete wharfi ng during the 1960s and 1970s. Now that port facilities have moved to Botany Bay, the area is being converted into corporate offi ces and casinos. 1488. Patches of the original dockside heritage structure still exist along Sussex Street. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 48 9/19/2016 11:06:03 AM 49 9. PITT STREET REPUBLICANS Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 49 9/19/2016 11:06:05 AM 50 1150. Th e Pitt Street corner from Bridge Street today, with the Exchange Building on the left . It was at this point that the parade turned left from Bridge Street. 1426. Th is location is now marked by the 1902 James White sculpture of Commerce. 1427. On the opposite side of Pitt Street adjacent to the location of the French Arch now resides the aptly named Republic Restaurant in what was originally the Ex- change Hotel: Herbert A Neich proprietor. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 50 9/19/2016 11:06:05 AM 51 National Library of Australia: nla. pic-an 13143006-9. Th e French Arch at the point where the parade entered Pitt Street from Bridge Street. Australian War Memorial: P00670.001. Th e march passing under the French Arch demonstrates the claustro- phobic narrowness of Pitt Street even in 1901. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 51 9/19/2016 11:06:07 AM 52 1226. Th e same Hunter Street, O’Connell Street intersection, with the 1924 steel framed and stone clad Herald Building on the corner. National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an 13143006-11. Th e American Arch on the corner of Pitt Street, Hunter Street and O’Connell Street. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 52 9/19/2016 11:06:08 AM 53 1152. Th e claustrophobic eff ect of the old Pitt Street has actually been reduced with the open forecourt of Australia Square on the right. University of Melbourne: UMA/I/4555. Th e American Arch looking back down Pitt Street from Martin Place. Th e New York chasm sensation is evident here. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 53 9/19/2016 11:06:09 AM 54 1223. Some of the original little lanes such as Bridge Lane still exist, here almost swallowed up by modernism. Th e Tank Stream Way in the mid ground, running parallel with Pitt Street, sits virtually atop the old Tank Stream. 1227. Some things never change. Here at 125 Pitt Street, on the corner of Angel Place sits the Angel Hotel just as it did in 1901. Th en the proprietor was Frank Wilson. Th e alley way behind the hotel was full of small businesses, including at least three architects, Albert Bond, Harry Kent and an F Moorehouse. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 54 9/19/2016 11:06:10 AM 55 10. THE COMMERCIAL CITY Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 55 9/19/2016 11:06:11 AM 56 City of Sydney Library: 044\044132. Martin Place and the GPO in 1901 from where Martin Place became Moore Street and its later extention to Castlereagh Street. 1159. Martin Place from Castlereagh Street across the Pitt Street inter- section today. Since this image was taken just prior to Christmas, the general seasonal feel would have been similar to 1901. Note the light fashion of summer contrasting with the heavy woollen clothing of a century ago. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 56 9/19/2016 11:06:12 AM 57 National Libary of Australia: nla.pic-an10834037-s28. Martin Place festooned with banners for the Federation Parade. It was at this point that the march moved from Pitt Street to George Street. 1155. Martin Place from Pitt Street. It is notable that there was no giant Christmas tree in 1901. Th is decoration has been a most interesting point of contention between the athe- istic Lord Mayor, Clover Moore, and the more populist State Government. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 57 9/19/2016 11:06:13 AM 58 1422, 1424. Architect James Barnet’s famous Pitt Street carvings on the keystones and spandrels of the GPO, representing everyday city trades and local dignitaries from Sydney. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 58 9/19/2016 11:06:14 AM 59 State Library of Victoria: H82.43/72 b17817. Looking south down George Street around 1900, from the location where it is joined by Martin Place. Th e main point of diff erence appears in transport, with the new trams and wooden blocked street surface yet to be replaced by later cars and tarmac. 1191. Looking down George Street from the same position. Th is intersection has remained much as it was in 1901, although modern buildings dominate further along the street. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 59 9/19/2016 11:06:16 AM 60 State Library of Victoria: H20249 a14756. Th e corner has thankfully had some heritage protection. In 1900, this building was the Equitable Building Mutual Life Insurance Company of New York, with the Safe Deposits Building further along George Street. In keeping with the American fl avour, the basement held the Manhattan Luncheon and Tea Rooms. 1229. Now the Australasia Chambers with the Societe Generale House in the background, both expressing the late Victorian mix of Classicism and American modernist Roman- esque. Note the additional vegetation in Martin Place and on George Street, and the presence of modern fl agpoles for the Martin Place cenotaph. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 60 9/19/2016 11:06:17 AM 61 1230, 1231. Some of the small original buildings along George Street remain. Th e Darrell Lea Choc- olate shop was originally the Union Bank of Australia, and then the Royal Exchange Hotel. Th e current McDonald’s outlet at 357-377 George Street was originally the Pasto- ral Chambers, containing Baker and Rouse, importers of photographic stock, and Heb- blewhite and Co, importers of sewing machines and bicycles. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 61 9/19/2016 11:06:19 AM 62 1190, 1193. One of the few remaining arcades in Sydney, the Strand Arcade still exists between King and Market Streets, and has now been heritage listed. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 62 9/19/2016 11:06:20 AM 63 State Library of Victoria: H21600 b52455. Th e Queen Victoria Building from the Market Street corner in 1900. Note the massive telegraph pole and cross bars attempting to cope with the up to date commu- nication and power technology. 1189. Th e Queen Victoria Building from Market Street today. Th is has been known as Gow- ings Corner, since before the Second World War, even though Supre now actually oc- cupies the heritage building. Imagine the sensation of the Federation Parade marching along this route past the freshly cut sandstone facade. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 63 9/19/2016 11:06:21 AM 64 City of Sydney Library: 000322. Th e Federation Parade passing the Queen Victoria Building on the left . Health and safety regulations for spectators were obviously more lax than today. Interesting to also note the number of women on the balconies. Obviously our notions regarding the physical re- strictions on women a century ago did not necessarily apply. 1195. Th e Queen Victoria Building today from the same point on George Street, with smaller awnings opening up the facade. Th e soon to be demolished monorail is visible in the background. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 64 9/19/2016 11:06:22 AM 65 University of Melbourne Archives: UMA/1/4552. Th e Federation Parade turning left at Park Street, taken from the parapet of the Queen Victoria Building. Note the crispness of the newly cut stone, and the same people packed on the awnings. 1185. Aft er a century of weathering the top of the Queen Victoria Building is precarious to say the least. Th e white Woolworths corner was the point where the march turned left into Park Street. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 65 9/19/2016 11:06:24 AM 66 1182. Th e interior of the Queen Victoria Building in its restored glory. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 66 9/19/2016 11:06:25 AM 67 1184. Th e Park Street intersection from the Hobbyco shop in the QVB. Just as Melbourne has the tradition of meet- ing under the Flinders Street Railway clock, so Sydneysid- ers oft en arrange to meet at Woollies’ corner. 1451. Queen Victoria now dominates the forecourt of the QVB and the Town Hall, as she has always presided over St James. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 67 9/19/2016 11:06:26 AM 68 11. CELEBRATION AND COMMONWEALTH Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 68 9/19/2016 11:06:28 AM 69 State Library of Victoria: H20259 a14764. Sydney Town Hall in 1900. Th is building would also have been only 18 years old at this time, and even more dominant without the overpower- ing infl uence of modern buildings and modern traffi c requirements. 1179. Th e close alignment between the Queen Victoria Building, Her Majesty, and the Sydney Town Hall. It was at this point that the parade turned left , thus failing to pass in front of the spectacular Town Hall. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 69 9/19/2016 11:06:28 AM 70 1408. Th e steepness of the route up Liverpool Street is evident with the steps at the front of Mark Foy’s, and the new anti-slip covering on the footpath. Even electric trams found it a drag negotiating this hill. NSW Department of Road and Tramways: Liverpool Street Junction 1934. By the 1930s and the peak era of the tram system in Sydney, this slope up Liverpool Street (at the top of this map) was only suitalbe for down trams on the left hand line. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 70 9/19/2016 11:06:29 AM 71 National Library of Australia: nla pic-an10834037-s39. Th e Melbourne Arch in 1901 fl anked by two hotels. Th e Lester’s Hotel on the left will later become the Town Hall Hotel, before its recent demolition for Citicorp Tower. Th e Swan with Two Necks on the right will make way for road widening and Woolworth’s in the early 1930s. 1176. Park Street from George Street today, with the greater width of the roadway and the monorail yet again evident. Th is was the location of the Melbourne Arch. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 71 9/19/2016 11:06:30 AM 72 National Library of Australia: nla pic-an237880507. Park Street in the early 1900s looking east to Hyde Park. Th e heritage row below commences with the chemist shop on the cor- ner of Pitt Street. Th e boot polishers present a rather strange New York sensation, and not something that one would now think of as being typically Australian. 1171. What remains of heritage Park Street today, between Pitt and Castlereagh Streets. In 1900, these same shops were occupied by H G Packman basket maker, G F Kelly fruit- erer, and J Harris tailor. Whether this row has been consciously preserved, or merely overlooked, it makes a nice interlude in the centre of the city. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 72 9/19/2016 11:06:32 AM 73 1472. Th e site of the original Tank Stream suspended swamp from Hyde Park, with Elizabeth Street in the background. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 73 9/19/2016 11:06:33 AM 74 Australia Post: Th e City’s Centrepiece p. 20. Maps indicating location of hanging swamp and the source of the Tank Stream around 1830. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 74 9/19/2016 11:06:34 AM 75 1166. Th e corner of Park Street and Elizabeth Street, where the parade would have emerged before passing under the Commonwealth Arch. Th e monument in the foreground is the Grand United Order of Oddfellows memorial to those lost in the First World War. State library of Victoria: H21628 b52480. Th e corner of Hyde Park at Park and Elizabeth Streets in 1900. Th e original offi ce building in the centre of the photograph would be re- placed by the T&G Building, the city’s tallest building during the 1930s, itself replaced by the current Pacifi c Power complex in the 1970s. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 75 9/19/2016 11:06:35 AM 76 National Library of Australia: nla10834037-s43. Th e Commonwealth Arch in 1901, looking back down Park Street to the Melbourne Arch in the back- ground. Th e off set position would have been to accommodate through traffi c before and aft er the march, as well as align with the old Park Street width. 1167. Th e location of the Commonwealth Arch. In the middle distance down Elizabeth Street is Sydney’s Central Synagogue, and in further down the road, the site of the original Tank Stream swamp. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 76 9/19/2016 11:06:37 AM 77 12. THE CLASSICAL EAST Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 77 9/19/2016 11:06:38 AM 78 John Archer: Building a Nation, 1987, Collins Australia p. 117. Th is 1890 sketch from Garran’s Picturesque Atlas of Australia gives a no doubt biased, but also useful impression of why inner city life was so oft en dismissed as unsatisfactory for the newly Federated nation. Th e Darlinghurst “valley of sin” still exists, although will no doubt soon follow nearby Paddington and Surry Hills in becoming gentrifi ed. Th is drawing was done looking from the east, Kings Cross and Butler’s Stairs back to- wards the city. Note the Town Hall and St Andrew’s Anglican Cathedral on the left hand horizon, the new Queen Victoria Building in the centre and the yet to be completed St Mary’s Catholic Cathedral on the right. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 78 9/19/2016 11:06:38 AM 79 1163. Looking down Park Street today from the location of the Commonwealth Arch to the site of the German Arch. Th e widened street then plunges down into William Street and a Darlinghurst also becoming dominated by modern towers. Museum of Australian Democracy: Federation German Arch. Th e German Arch in Park Street prior to the parade. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 79 9/19/2016 11:06:39 AM 80 State Library of Victoria: H18521 a14752. Th e corner of Park and College Streets in 1900, where the march turned right and proceeded up the rise to Oxford Street. William Street on the left is much narrower prior to its widening over the next decade. 1164. Th e expanded Australian Museum still dominates the corner of Park and College Streets, with Sydney Grammar School architecturally complementing next door. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 80 9/19/2016 11:06:40 AM 81 1162. Th e Sydney Boys’ Grammar School, still the premier school for Sydney’s elite, in the centre of the aptly named College Street. National Library of Australia: nla.pic-vn4704121-v. College Street in 1900, looking along the roiute of the future march. The medical residences are visible in the background, and Sydney Grammar School is hidden by the Australian Museum. The deserted streetscape would indicate a photograph taken on a Sunday afternoon. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 81 9/19/2016 11:06:41 AM 82 1161. Th e beginnig of Oxford Street today, with Hyde Park to the right. Towers such as the State Bank building now dominate Whitlam Square. Th e smart terraces have long gone, replaced by the Hyde Park Plaza. Wentworth Avenue drops down to the right in the middle distance. City of Sydney Archives: 044123. Th e classical Military Colonnade at the beginning of Oxford Street, with Hyde Park to the left . Th is was the last formal structure passed before the march proceeded out to Centennial Park. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 82 9/19/2016 11:06:42 AM 83 13. CITY REDEVELOPMENT Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 83 9/19/2016 11:06:43 AM 84 NSW Government Records: series 0017. Central Station soon aft er construction, and before the addtion of the clock tower. Eddy Avenue goes under the viaduct in the foreground, with the tram viaduct behind in the backgound. Th ese roadway arches will later be mirrored in the arches shown below for the extended rail connection to the City Circle underground. Private photograph from Flickr. Eddy Avenue Central Railway today, with the re-instated tourist trams passing over the original tramway viaduct. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 84 9/19/2016 11:06:44 AM 85 Sydney Streets: City of Sydney database. Th e old Wexford Street district prior to redevelopment. City of Sydney Archives: 067713. Urban redevelopment early twentieth century style. Although demolished as part of the plague clean up, the area from Goulburn Street to Brisbane Street still looked like this in 1929. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 85 9/19/2016 11:06:45 AM 86 City of Sydney Archives: 004175. Wexford Street from Elizabeth Street prior to the redevelopment. Th is was the point nearest to the Central Railway construction site. 1405. Th e former Macquarie Street South from the edge of Hyde Park; aptly re-named Commonwealth Street when the district was rebuilt aft er Federation. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 86 9/19/2016 11:06:46 AM 87 1397. Some structures on the outskirts of the demolishing remained. Th e Lutheran Church still stands in Goulburn Street, near the intersection with Elizabeth Street . City of Sydney Archives: 51 3028 003. Th e fate of public institutions varied. Th e Chinese Church of England in Wexford Street was demolished as part of the redevelopment. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 87 9/19/2016 11:06:47 AM 88 1394. All that is left of Wexford Street from Goulburn Street. Once the whole district was demolished and converted to commercial use, Foy Lane was constructed along the same alignment, run- ning parallel to Wentworth Avenue. NSW Govt Printing Offi ce: 1-47703. Th e original Wexford Street from Goulburn Street during the plague clean up in 1900. From this photograph, it is obvious why local authorities wanted the district im- proved. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 88 9/19/2016 11:06:48 AM 89 City of Sydney Image Library: 004178. Exeter Place from Foster Street. Foster Street still remains but Exeter Street was swallowed up by Wentworth Avenue. 1392. Th e broad expanse of Wentworth Avenue today, looking south towards Central Railway, through the previously demolished district. Ironically, many of these buildings and sites are now being converted back to residential, but for a very diff erent clientele. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 89 9/19/2016 11:06:50 AM 90 14. MARCH OUT TO CENTENNIAL PARK Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 90 9/19/2016 11:06:51 AM 91 1196. Oxford Street from Whitlam Square and the point outside the noted three storey builing on the far left in the photograph above. Note the rebuilt Burdekin Hotel on the angled corner of Little Liverpool Street. State Library of Victoria: H21638 b52477. Oxford Street looking east from the corner of Hyde Park around 1900. Th e whole left hand side of the street, including the original Burdekin Hotel, centre mid-ground, will soon be demolished to make way for street widening as part of the Wexford Street redevelopment. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 91 9/19/2016 11:06:52 AM 92 1197. Darlinghurst Court House at Taylor Square. Th is august institution, and the gaol behind, would have been a signifi cant site as the march progressed eastwards. Th e goal became part of East Sydney Technical College and recently, the National Art School. 1199. Looking from Taylor Square.to the recently named Th ree Saints Square and Saint Sophia Church. Oxford Street to the east in the centre and Flinders Street to the south on the right, as it was in 1901, although the large intricate tram junction has long since gone. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 92 9/19/2016 11:06:53 AM 93 1456. Th e rise up to Paddington proper passes Victoria Barracks, and the headquarters for the military in Sydney for a century and a half. NSW Government Records Offi ce: 17420 a014 0001158. Even in 1898, civic athorities had the foresight to construct the Rose Bay tramline through the scrub that will soon become the Eastern Suburbs. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 93 9/19/2016 11:06:54 AM 94 1457. Paddington Town Hall, at the crest of the hill from Victoria Barracks. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 94 9/19/2016 11:06:56 AM 95 City of Sydney Archives: 032058. Claimed to be Elizabeth Street, but possibly Oxford Street Padding- ton, with the St Francis of Assisi church on the left . Th e march would now be approaching Centennial Square and Centennial Park. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 95 9/19/2016 11:06:57 AM 96 State Library of Victoria: H20235 b52393. Th e original marble statue of Sir Henry Parkes. Ironically, due to the parade entering by the side gate, the marchers would not have passed Parkes’ statue. 1461. Th e current bronze statue of Sir Henry Parkes on the corner of Hamilton and Parkes Drives in Centennial Park. Note the degree to which the greenery has fi lled out over the century. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 96 9/19/2016 11:06:58 AM 97 1464. Alex Tzannes’ 1988 Pavilion near the site of the original temporary inauguration struc- ture. A sense of permanence at last. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 97 9/19/2016 11:06:59 AM 98 National Library of Australia: nla pic-an11030057-405. Th e Federation Pavilion and 1 January 1901 celebrations from above Federation Valley. Busby’s Pond in the background formed part of Sydney’s earlier water supply. 1467. Th e Tzannes’ Federation Pavilion from the same location today. Again, the growth of trees since the time of Federation covers the view to the still existant Busby’s Pond. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 98 9/19/2016 11:07:01 AM 99 State Library of Victoria: H18581 a14727. Th e original celebrations from the slopes of the natural amphithea- tre at the head of Federation Valley. Note the clothing worn on what would have been a muggy Sydney summer’s day. 1469. Th e Belvedere Amphitheatre now takes advantage of the slope above Federation Valley and the close proximity to public transport at Bondi Junction. At the time of my foot- stepping this was a construction site developing this signifi cant location. It has since been completed with formal tiered viewing for outdoor performances. Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 99 9/19/2016 11:07:02 AM FOOTSTEPPING TO FEDERATION An alternative approach to analysing Australian Society at the beginning of the Twentieth Century. MELBOURNE FEDERATION PARADE PHOTOGRAPH BOOKLET VOLUME 2 Eric Carpenter Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 1 9/19/2016 11:07:37 AM 1 MELBOURNE MARCH The Age: 6 May 1901 p. 8. Route of the Melbourne Parade from St Kilda to the City. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 1 9/19/2016 11:07:44 AM 2 1. POINT OF COMPARISON Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 2 9/19/2016 11:07:45 AM 3 The Argus: 6 May 1901 p. 6. Route of the Melbourne Parade. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 3 9/19/2016 11:07:46 AM 4 The Age: 9 May 1901 p. 7. The later formal parade that accompanied the opening of Federal Parliament. Although the procession followed a slightly different route, the marchers would still have passed under almost all the arches. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 4 9/19/2016 11:07:47 AM 5 The Age: 6 May 1901 p. 5. One of the supplementary marches in Melbourne that accompanied the opening of Fed- eral Parliament. Again, although the route differed, most of the arches would have been passed. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 5 9/19/2016 11:07:47 AM 6 2. ARRIVAL IN MELBOURNE Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 6 9/19/2016 11:07:48 AM 7 1868. The semi-abandoned remnant of an earlier era. These silver rails indicate that the Can- berra Railway Station is still used; however its role as the principle link with the outside world has long been superceded by air and road transport. Patsy Adam Smith: Romance of Australian Railways p. 127. Th e Sydney Railway Terminus in September 1880. Sailors turned miners are being fare- welled by shipmates from the Zealandia as they leave for the Temora Diggings. Th is sketch would have been done at the old Sydney / Redfern Railway Station. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 7 9/19/2016 11:07:49 AM 8 1621. Flinders Lane today is a still hive of inner city activity, although now has as much to do with recreation and entertainment as industry and work. WalkingMelbourne database. Image No: P4XV14SF. Th e entrance to Flinders Lane at the turn of the last century demon- strates the bustle of the workaday world. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 8 9/19/2016 11:07:50 AM 9 Melbourne Curious database. Swanston Street and the old Flinder’s Street Railway Station around 1900, with the notably modern looking bicycle commanding the street. Th e Princes Bridge Hotel is yet to become Young and Jackson’s. 1340. Modern cycling past the Ocean of Experi- ence and the entry to Flinder’s Lane. Loretta Quinn’s 1993 whimsical spiritual work is described as a commemoration of Australia’s migrant experience. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 9 9/19/2016 11:07:52 AM 10 3. FIRES IN VICTORIA Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 10 9/19/2016 11:07:53 AM 11 1288. Flying across northern Victoria on the 16 February 2009. Smoke was still evident from the Black Saturday fi res of a week earlier. Jake Valance Image: 879335. The devastation of the Victorian Black Saturday fi res in 2009. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 11 9/19/2016 11:07:53 AM 12 John Longstaff: Gippsland Sunday Night 20 February 1898. Th e fi res resulting from a heatwave in late 1897 and early 1898 burned through much of the country that would later be scorched by the 2009 fi res. William Strutt: Black Thursday. The famous and evocative painting of the Black Thursday fi res on the 6 February 1851. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 12 9/19/2016 11:07:54 AM 13 4. ENTERING THE CITY Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 13 9/19/2016 11:07:55 AM 14 1637. View along St Kilda Road back from the Shrine of Remembrance to St Paul’s Cathedral and the southern entry into the City. 1638. Victorian Governor Lord Linlithgow in 1895 at the State Government House entry. In 1901, as Lord Hopetoun, John Adrian Louis Hope would become Australia’s fi rst Governor General. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 14 9/19/2016 11:07:55 AM 15 National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an3229944091. The Municipal Arch and decorations on the Princes Bridge leading into the City. National Gallery of Australia: nga IRN+47148. Frederick McCubbin: Triumphal Arch at Prince’s Bridge, Mel- bourne. As well as a quite accurate portrayl of the arch, this painting stands as a fi ne example of the Impressionism fashionable at the time. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 15 9/19/2016 11:07:57 AM 16 1296. The scene today across Princes Bridge, from the location of the Municipal Arch. 1300. Even among the modernist strucu- tres of South Bank, Victorian era decoration is appreciated and now restored to its former glory. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 16 9/19/2016 11:07:58 AM 17 Paul Pickering Image. The 2001 Centenary Arch looking back down St Kilda Road. Quickly labelled the Pick-up-sticks Arch, this edifi ce appeared to fail somewhat in embodying the gravitas of such an important commemoration. Note also the degree to which the trees alongside the road have grown over the intervening century. National Libary of Australia: nla.pic-an13117280. The Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York about to cross the Princes Bridge enroute from Government House. This photograph was taken from the point of the later Pick-up-sticks Arch, as indi- cated by the shadow of the Municipal Arch. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 17 9/19/2016 11:07:59 AM 18 St Peters: Sydney and Suburbs database. Remnants from the “Best Games Ever” are now fading away at the St Peters recycling depot. At least they remain intact. Paul Pickering Image. The discarded Centenary Arch. Even after a century, Australian society seems ambivalent about the long term recognition of such signifi cant events. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 18 9/19/2016 11:08:00 AM 19 State Library of Victoria: H92.200/4717 b18309. The two Railway Towers at the in- tersection of Flinders and Swanston Streets. National Library of Australia: nla pic-an13117280-9. The Towers illuminated at night by the modern marvel of electricity. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 19 9/19/2016 11:08:01 AM 20 Walking Melbourne website. The original Flinders Street Railway Station from Swanston Street in 1901. The parade would have entered the city from the left. 1311. The location of the Railway Towers today, with the famous Flinders Street Railway Sta- tion entry viewed from Federation Square. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 20 9/19/2016 11:08:01 AM 21 1327. St Paul’s Cathedral, with its orange Sydney sandstone spires, continues to dominate the inter- section today. State Library of Victoria: Rose Series image 201. Princes Bridge in the late 1930s. Flinder’s Street Station is well established on the right, and the future site of Federation Square contains the shops and entrance to Princes Bridge Railway Station at the lower left . Federation Square will eventually cover over the open railway lines and yards on the left hand side of the road. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 21 9/19/2016 11:08:02 AM 22 1319. A rapidly lost enthusiasm? Trees planted in Federation Square in 2001, and apparently forgotten are now slowly dying of neglect. 1325. The permanent Commemoration of Federation under foot in Federation Square. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 22 9/19/2016 11:08:03 AM 23 5. SETTLEMENT AND PLANNING Illustrated Australia News: from the Univerity of Melbourne collection. Samuel Calvert’s engraved panorama of Melbourne in 1880 looking across the Yarra River. Princes Bridge is in the lower right hand corner, with the railway station above it already a dominant feature. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 23 9/19/2016 11:08:04 AM 24 Victorian Depatment of Planning and Community Development: Heritage Victoria. Nathaniel Whittock (1791-1860), City of Melbourne 1854, drawn from offi cial surveys and sketches. Jill Eastwood: Melbourne the Growth of a Metropolis, 1983, p. 15. Th is 1840 map shows clearly the almost 5 chain blocks, with the ‘little streets’ running east west. Townend Stream and the source of future fl ooding is also evident down the alignment of Eliza- beth Street. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 24 9/19/2016 11:08:05 AM 25 1335. Th e 99’ (30 m) main roads in Melbourne retain dual tram tracks while still allowing room for ve- hicular traffi c. Th is was one of the reasons for Sydney abandoning trams half a century ago: that city’s streets were simply too narrow. 1568. Filling in the corner of George Parade and Collins Street, the Kitchen Cat res- taurant takes full advantage of the close ambience off ered by Melbourne’s little streets and laneways. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 25 9/19/2016 11:08:07 AM 26 6. MARVELOUS MELBOURNE Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 26 9/19/2016 11:08:07 AM 27 1594. The Charles Summers’ statue of Burke and Wills, with City Square and the Westin complex behind. Having been moved many times since its creation in 1865, the statue ar- rived at its current location only in 1994. 1641. Web Gilbert’s famoust statue of Matthew Flinders, with its apparently ever present sea gull, along the side of St Pauls Cathedral. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 27 9/19/2016 11:08:08 AM 28 State Library of Victoria: H2006.188/67 pi005254. Awaiting the procession to pass under the King’s Arch. The Cathedral Hotel site is now occupied by City Square, while the stunted tower of St Paul’s is just vis- ible above the left hand fl ag on the arch. 1521. The current location of the King’s Arch in Swanston Street, looking back to St Paul’s with the later addition of the spires. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 28 9/19/2016 11:08:09 AM 29 1564. The much reduced City Square today, adjacent to the location of the King’s Arch. 1351. As was the case with Sydney, Melbourne’s Town Hall was conspicu- ously by-passed by the parade. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 29 9/19/2016 11:08:10 AM 30 State Library of Victoria: H33608 pi000082. The parade passed most of Mel- bourne’s denominational churches, including the Collins Street Baptist Church. The Church as it was in 1901 with a rather alienating iron gate entry. 1357. The church today is more open to the public, but now with an even more incongruous jewelery shop attached. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 30 9/19/2016 11:08:12 AM 31 1566. The location of Web Gilbert’s original studio in George Parade, formerly La Trobe Parade. The laneway has been totally altered beyond recognition. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 31 9/19/2016 11:08:13 AM 32 1361. St Michael’s Congre- gational, now Uniting Church, on the corner of Collins and Russell Streets, the location of the Queen’s Arch. State Library of Victoria: H2005.34/241 je000309. Postcard presentation of the Queen’s Arch looking back down Collins Street. Note the steepness of the roadway down to Swanston Street. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 32 9/19/2016 11:08:14 AM 33 1379. Numbers 5 and 7 Collins Street were the residences of George Rolfe and surgeon W K Bolton. The building still houses medical offi ces today. 1572. Alfred Place and the former location of Robert Berry’s Livery Stables, indicat- ing the importance of horses until at least the First World War. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 33 9/19/2016 11:08:15 AM 34 1574. 70 to 80 Collins Street; former site of medical offi ces (similar to the building in the im- age below) turned into a vacant lot and public space as a result of concerns over the loss of heritage value! Originally designated as a car park for the Nauru House behind. 1370. A fi ne example of the town- house that would have origi- nally occupied the space. 1369. Plaque on the townhouse site. Recognition of a lost heritage. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 34 9/19/2016 11:08:16 AM 35 7. SEATS OF POWER Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 35 9/19/2016 11:08:18 AM 36 1383. The former Treasury Building at the top of Collins Street today; now the Melbourne City Museum. Public Record Offi ce of Victoria. Th e State Treasury Building and Gardens in 1897, festooned for the Diamond Jubilee. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 36 9/19/2016 11:08:19 AM 37 National Libary of Australia: nla.pic-an3105317. The Paris end of Collins Street from Spring Street at the time of Federation. Note the signifi cant heritage residence on the left and the orginal tram on the original track. 1386. Th e heritage residence at16 Spring Street was originally constructed for pastoralist William Campbell, but later became part of the accommodation for the new Common- wealth Government. Th e block behind is now dominated by the corporate world. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 37 9/19/2016 11:08:20 AM 38 1399. Gordon Reserve and the Stan- ford Fountain today. One advantage of tough bluestone is that it is hard wearing and long lasting. State Library of Victoria: H40267 b51791. Th e Stanford Fountain at the time of the Federation Parade. Th e palm trees are quite new and the skyline back towards the city is also more open. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 38 9/19/2016 11:08:21 AM 39 1391, 1396. The incongruity of the upright General Gordon and the rather fey Adam Lind- say Gordon sharing Gordon Reserve. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 39 9/19/2016 11:08:22 AM 40 1393. The Hotel Windsor today, prior to its expected redevelopment. 1407. State Parliament in Spring Street still dominates the scene, and provides an interesting contrast in civic wealth to the much more subdued equivalent Sydney institution. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 40 9/19/2016 11:08:23 AM 41 State Library of Victoria: H2006.188/65 pi005252. State Parliament from a similar location illuminated for the Federation celebrations. State Library of Victoria: H27418 a53789. The Parliament Building in 1901 dur- ing daylight hours. 1428. Commemoration of the Centenary of Federation in the footpath outside Parliament House. This building was of course reassigned the role of temporarily housing the new Federal Parliament prior to the establishment of Canberra. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 41 9/19/2016 11:08:24 AM 42 Museum Victoria: MM004377. St Patrick’s Cathedral in 1897, with the Gisbourne Street tram tracks in the foreground, and before the additon of the 1930 spires. Ursula M De Jong: St Patrick’s Ca- thedral - a guide, 2005. Th e golden windows allow a glori- ous light to enter Wardell’s build- ing, but without the more expen- sive stained glass. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 42 9/19/2016 11:08:25 AM 43 1402. The Princess Theatre today is still a centre of Melbourne’s culture. National Library of Australia: nla.an7946263-8. The original Princess Theatre across the road from the carriageway entry to Parliament House. Note the small terraced private residenc- es next to the theatre, looking across at the seat of colonial and state government. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 43 9/19/2016 11:08:26 AM 44 8. BOURKE STREET AND CITY LIFE Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 44 9/19/2016 11:08:27 AM 45 1427. The intersection of Spring Street and Bourke Street today, again with the inevitable tram in the picture. The Imperial Hotel, now resplendent in white and yellow, remains on the corner. Again, note the tree lined streetscape replacing the awnings. State Library of Victoria: H24753 b19645. The entry to Bourke Street between 1880 and 1900. Mrs Eliza Fe- lix’s Imperial Hotel stands on the right hand corner emphasising the prevalence of awnings to shelter pedestrians from the weather. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 45 9/19/2016 11:08:28 AM 46 1413. The location of the Citizens’ Arch today, at the Russell Street intersection of Bourke Street, with the view to the GPO tower now virtually obliterated by modern buildings. State Library of Victoria: H94.30/21 mp012435. The Citizens’ Arch in Bourke Street mirrored the Queen’s Arch on the Rus- sell Street intersection. Here the GPO is clearly visible through the arch. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 46 9/19/2016 11:08:29 AM 47 1420. 69 Bourke Street and the Salvation Army headquarters today. 1421. The Salvation Army headquarters then. With socially depressed areas around Little Bourke and Lonsdale Streets, it is understandable that so many Protestant evangelical institutions were estab- lished in the district. State Library of Victoria: jc019247. The Salvation Army headquarters in 1981. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 47 9/19/2016 11:08:30 AM 48 Sheridan Morris: Melbourne Past and Present p. 114. Melburnians “walking the block” in 1880. Although twenty years before Federation, the restrictive clothing from Europe is evident. Again, the safety bicycle is also beginning to dominate the streets. C J Dennis: Selected Verse of C J Dennis p. 42. Hal Gye’s image of Ginger Mick at the Markets. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 48 9/19/2016 11:08:31 AM 49 Walking Melbourne database. The Eastern Markets as they were on the corner of Bourke and Exhibition Streets between 1879 and 1960. 1597. The Southern Cross complex now occupies the same block within Bourke, Little Bourke and Exhibition Streets. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 49 9/19/2016 11:08:32 AM 50 National Library of Australia: nla.pic-vn3355464. The Duke and Duchess of Cornwall and York driving past the intersection of Bourke Street and Exhibition Street. Th e London Bank of Australia Ltd is on the far corner. 1416. The same builiding at 90 Bourke Street. is now a trendy pub, although again no longer with the protective awning. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 50 9/19/2016 11:08:33 AM 51 9. LITTLE LON’ Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 51 9/19/2016 11:08:34 AM 52 1611. Little Lon’ today. Slum clearance, and 1960s industrialism has changed the distirct for good, but there are still some reminders of the earlier era. Victorian Govt: History of Melbourne database. Lonsdale Street precinct in 1947 was still a myriad of laneways and little streets. Casselden Place is at the right hand side between Little Lon- sdale Street and Lonsdale Street. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 52 9/19/2016 11:08:35 AM 53 1609. Casselden Place is one of the few remaining lanes with the same remnant cobblestones that would have formed the foundation surface of all the streets in the district, including Spadgers Lane / Cumberland Place. C J Dennis: Selected Verse of C J Dennis. p. 70. Hal Gye’s drawing of the imagined community of Spadger’s Lane a century ago. Note the cobblestones across the laneway, the Chinese signage and the everpresent evangelical minister of religion. Interstingly, if the dome in the background is that on the Victorian Public Library in Swanston Street, then this imaginative drawing further locates the imaginary Spadg- er’s Lane in the reality of the district; possibly being based on Cumberland Place. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 53 9/19/2016 11:08:36 AM 54 1602. Some recognition of heritage. John Casselden’s cottage is mostly preserved, with Madam Brussel’s Arcade in the background. 1601. Th e seamier side of Little Lonsdale Street is perpetuated in local signage. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 54 9/19/2016 11:08:37 AM 55 1601. Madam Brussel’s brothel at 32-34 Lonsdale Street has now been commemorated with an arcade. 1610. The return of residential accommodation to Little Lon’. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 55 9/19/2016 11:08:38 AM 56 1593. Other reminders of the original Little Lon’, include the heritage listed number 104. Although with an oriental appearance, at the time of Federation this was the very Irish Munster Arms Hotel. 1591. The next block down around Exploration Lane apparently still resembles the original Little Lonsdale Street of a century ago. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 56 9/19/2016 11:08:39 AM 57 10. RACE IS GOOD FOR BUSINESS Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 57 9/19/2016 11:08:41 AM 58 1436. Swanston Street today, with Turner Alley present on the left. Virtually all the original shops have been replaced with modern buildings, although the chimney stack on the skyline hints that the brick building in the right hand midground may well be the structure next to the right hand Chinese tower. National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an13117280-23. The Chinese Arch on Swanston Street in1901. The entry to Turner Alley is just visible on the left. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 58 9/19/2016 11:08:41 AM 59 State Library of Victoria: H96.160/650 cc001002. The Chinese procession in Collins Street the day after the main parade. National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an13117280-12. The Chinese dragon during the Federation celebrations. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 59 9/19/2016 11:08:42 AM 60 1586. Melbourne’s Chinatown in Little Bourke Street today. 1587. Recognition of Chinese heritage with the Chinese Museum in the rather inaptly located Cohen Place – named after a local Jewish pawnbroker. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 60 9/19/2016 11:08:43 AM 61 1614. Cooper’s Inn on the corner at 282 Exhibition and Little Lonsdale Street later became a Chinese furniture factory before returning to its role as a hotel. Culture Victoria: A W Purnell Colection, University of Melbourne Archives, Proposed furniture factory for Mr George Sue Gay at 22 Punch Lane, 10 August 1914. Apparently the building still exists, fi rst as an inner city bar and now as the headquarters for Prosper Australia. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 61 9/19/2016 11:08:45 AM 62 11. VICE REGAL MELBOURNE Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 62 9/19/2016 11:08:46 AM 63 State Library of Victoria: H2002.130/2 mp012304. The Ducal Arch in what is now the Bourke Street Mall, with the GPO Tower behind. Note the steepness of the street in the distance. 1443. Melbourne GPO and precinct today. As was the case with Sydney, the new Melbourne GPO would have been a source of technological pride. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 63 9/19/2016 11:08:46 AM 64 1434. The Leviathan Clothing Company was standing on the corner of Bourke and Swanston Streets in 1901, and is still there today. However, this later building was not constructed until 1913, and is now a warren of smaller offi ces and shops. HWT Image Library: Herald Sun images of old Melbourne. Th e crowd gathering for a sale at Buckley and Nunn’s in 1912. Th is was at the original building, long since gone. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 64 9/19/2016 11:08:47 AM 65 State Library of Victoria: b46904. Melbourne Synagogue at 472 Bourke St, with the larger St Patrick’s Hall to the right at the time of Federation. Not much evidence of racism and sectarianism in this block. 1448. Equity Chambers and the Melbourne Law School now occupies the site on the corner of Little Queen Street. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 65 9/19/2016 11:08:49 AM 66 State Library of Victoria: H96.160/691 cc001154. The location of the Ducal Arch later in 1901 after a heavy hail storm, with the GPO again evident at the left. 1447. The same location today, with the whole block redeveloped, interestingly, with the addion of awnings as well as trees. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 66 9/19/2016 11:08:50 AM 67 State Library of Victoria: H21040 b51945. The Victoria Horse Bazaar at 396 Bourke Street, indicating both the impor- tance of horses to the economy, and the steepness of the street. 1440. The Royal Arcade, then and now also marked the location of the Ducal Arch. The style and even colour mirrors Sydney’s Strand Arcade. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 67 9/19/2016 11:08:51 AM 68 1461. The GPO from the western end of Bourke Street. Foreshortening emphasises the steepness of the road with which the horses and marchers would have had to cope. National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an3143346. Bourke Street around 1900 looking east. The GPO is in the centre of the left hand side of the street, and the Victoria Horse Bazaar on the far left. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 68 9/19/2016 11:08:52 AM 69 12. WOOL AND HERITAGE Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 69 9/19/2016 11:08:53 AM 70 1644. One reason why the march turned down William Street. Note the degree to which the street runs down the ridge of Batman’s Hill, and falls away again to the west. 1450. The Goldsborough Mort building still occupies the adjacent Bourke Street and William Street corner. Although apparently only half as large as the 1862 original, this building stands as an example of the successful con- version of a heritage structure into modern offi ces. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 70 9/19/2016 11:08:53 AM 71 State Library of Victoria: H98.30/393 p100342. The Menzies Hotel on the corner of Bourke and William Streets was still standing in 1957, as indicatecd by the brand new FE Hold- en and Ford Customline. By 1972 this grand old structure would be replaced by BHP House. 1642. The very modern BHP House has occupied this corner site since 1972. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 71 9/19/2016 11:08:54 AM 72 State Library of Victoria: H2000.195/68 pi003487. Shell Corner opposite was occupied by a general merchant’s offi ce. State Library of Victoria: H99.50/322 pi002157. The current modern building, photographed in 1960. Note that the Menzies Hotel corner tower and fl ag pole is still evident on the diagonally opposite corner. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 72 9/19/2016 11:08:55 AM 73 1466. The St James AMP Centre now fi lls the site with continued redevelopment State Library of Victoria: H94.150/45 pi000295. The John Sanderson & Co wool brokers covered the entire Little Collins Street to Bourke Street block on the western side of William Street. Note the electicity supply box on the right hand side of this 1940 photograph. 1501. The electricity supply box evident in the right hand side of the 1940 image still exists, and has been repainted heritage green. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 73 9/19/2016 11:08:56 AM 74 1467. This block from Little Collins down to Collins Street on the eastern side of William Street still retains its original heritage feel, with the Australian Widow’s fund building at 84 William Street displaying fi ne architectural detailing. 1452. The Australia Club also still occupies the corner with Little Collins Street. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 74 9/19/2016 11:08:57 AM 75 Melbourne’s Western Market1: Nostalgia Board database. Looking across the location of the Butter Arch from the northern side of Collins Street to the Western Markets in 1900. Market Street on the left runs down to Flinders Street, the suburban railway and the Yarra River. 1496. The view back along Collins Street from the Market street intersection today, with little memory of the classical past. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 75 9/19/2016 11:08:59 AM 76 1647. TheAXA Centre now occupies the block on the southern corner of William and Collins Street. This modern structure has attempted to refl ect the history and heritage of Batman’s Hill by commemorating two of Melbourne’s original founders. 1649, 1650. Melbourne’s founding fathers, John Pascoe Faulkner (left) and John Batman (right) on the forecourt of the AXA Centre. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 76 9/19/2016 11:09:00 AM 77 1498. The Butter Arch location today. Again, note the greening of Melbourne’s streets over the last few decades. One wonders what effect these trees are having on the water and drainage pipes beneath the city streets. National Library of Australia: nla. pic-an24441695-v. The Butter Arch looking down Collins Street, with Market Street on the right. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 77 9/19/2016 11:09:01 AM 78 13. FINANCIAL MELBOURNE Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 78 9/19/2016 11:09:02 AM 79 Collector’s Marvellous Melbourne database. This building was orginally designed as the ES&A Bank in the Gothic Revival style by William Wardell, and constructed between 1883 and 1887. William Pitt’s ornate Stock Exchange is on the right. 1492. The former ES&A, now ANZ Bank today, still functions as a fi nancial institution. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 79 9/19/2016 11:09:03 AM 80 State Library of Victoria: IAN01/08/91/13 mp007629. The interior of William Pitt’s 1890 Stock Exchange in all its late Victorian glory. 1488. The Gothic interior of the Stock Exchange now serves as Melbourne’s Banking Mu- seum. Recognition of the signifi cance of heritage, not only in preserving the façade of buildings, but their interiors as well. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 80 9/19/2016 11:09:04 AM 81 Skyscraper City: T & G postcard. At the turn of the century, the T and G was located up from the Town Hall on the corner of Little Collins Street. It was only in the late 1920s and 1930s that the institution moved to its massive premises at the top of Collins Street. Note also the original Leviathan Building on the corner. 1478. Th e former National Mu- tual Life Assocation Building, constructed between 1891 and 1903. Th is is one of the many symbols of an aspirational population that would have been passed by the Federation parade. Ironically, this build- ing at 389-395 Collins Street has since become the very privately owned Bank of New Zealand and A C House. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 81 9/19/2016 11:09:05 AM 82 National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an3105291. The view along Collins Street looking east, around 1900. The wealth of the city is evident in this image, even allowing for a decade of disastrous depression. 1507. The slightly later 1904-08 Brunton Chambers now domintes the block today, with the heritage building resplendent in its original brick and stone facing. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 82 9/19/2016 11:09:06 AM 83 1509. The German Arch location today. Again, note the growth of vegetation along the tree lined streets, obscuring many landmarks. National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an13117280-15. The German Arch in 1901, between Elizabeth the Swanston Streets, with the Town Hall clock tower behind. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 83 9/19/2016 11:09:07 AM 84 Walking Melbourne: Melbourne’s Lost Hotels. The location of the German Arch in the 1940s, with the Town Hall clock tower still in the back- ground. The Hotel Australia and the other Art Deco era build- ings have totally changed the streetscape. 1654. The Block Arcade still exists much as it would have in 1901, joining Collins Street and Elizabeth Streets, with the newer Brunton Chambers later fi lling in the corner. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 84 9/19/2016 11:09:08 AM 85 Victorian Government: Victorian Heritage database image 5961. Henry Parkes’ 1890 Algerian Oak Tree has obviously been pruned at various times for preservation. Sheridan Morris: Melbourne Past and Present 2008, Axiom Publishing p. 92. Aerial view over the MCG taken in 1935. Th e many quite mature trees would have been planned and planted at around the time of Federation. Susequently, many of these same trees have been lost with the redevelopment of the road and rail networks and the expan- sion of the sporting facilities. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 85 9/19/2016 11:09:09 AM 86 14. AFTER THE PARADES Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 86 9/19/2016 11:09:11 AM 87 1526. Melbourne’s Exhibtion Building today. Although some of the earlier rear additions have been removed, the building not only survives to this day, but is still in regular use for exhibitions and cultural activities. National Library of Australia: nla.pic-an13118171-5. Melbourne’s Exhibition Building in 1901. This view emphasises the 1880 lake that was originally constructed from a disused quarry. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 87 9/19/2016 11:09:11 AM 88 Tom Roberts: Opening of the First Parliament of the Commonwealth of Australia by HRH The Duke of Cornwall and York (later King George) 9 May 1901. Tom Roberts’ iconic 1903 painting of the same scene. Ironically, soon after completion, this work of art was presented to King Edward VII and hung in St James’s Palace. It was not returned to Australia until 1957 and is currently on display in the New Federal Parliament House in Canberra, on permanent loan from the British Royal Collection. National Library of Australia: nla.pic an-13118171-3. Sketch of the Opening Ceremony with HRH the Duke of Cornwall and York addressing the Parliament 9 May 1901. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 88 9/19/2016 11:09:12 AM 89 0996. The half scale copy of Melbourne’s Citizens’ Arch on display in the new National Museum of Australia in Canberra. 0999. Perhaps the most symbolic fea- ture of the arch is the Union Flag proudly presiding over the smaller and as yet unoffi cial Australian Blue Ensigns. Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16.indd 89 9/19/2016 11:09:13 AM ABSTRACT COMBINED FOR PRINTING INTRODUCTION FOR PRINTING SYDNEY MARCH FOR PRINTING MELBOURNE MARCH FOR PRINTING CONCLUSION FOR PRINTING BIBLIOGRAPHY FOR PRINTING Erics Thesis Syd_2_updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16 Erics Thesis Melb2_Updated_Single Pages_1_PDF_19-09-16 
work_jzb6bfs7jze3nivbdruimip4iu	----	Microsoft Word - 10.24 Intro.docx Performing the Canadian “Mosaic”: Juliette Gauthier, Florence Glenn and the CPR Festivals of Quebec City by Erin Sheedy Thesis submitted to the Faculty of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies In partial fulfillment of the requirements for the M.A. degree in Musicology School of Music Faculty of Arts University of Ottawa © Erin Sheedy, Ottawa, Canada, 2014 ii Introduction 1 Chapter One: Intellectual Backgrounds of the CPR Festivals 1.1 Nationalist Network 9 1.2 The Canadian “Mosaic” 12 1.3 Folk Inspiration 18 1.4 Overview of the Quebec City CPR Festivals 21 1.5 Canadian Composition at the CPR Festivals 26 1.6 Concluding Remarks 31 Chapter Two: CPR Festivals as Exhibitions of Heritage Tourism 2.1 Heritage Introduction 34 2.2 Performing Canadian (Music) History 35 2.3 Jeu de Robin et de Marion 36 2.4 Three de Montigny Scenarios 43 2.5 Tourism, Authenticity and Expert Opinions 54 2.6 Location in CPR Advertising 58 2.7 French-Canadian Representations at the CPR Festivals 60 2.8 Indigenous Representations at the CPR Festivals 65 2.9 Concluding Remarks 74 iii Chapter Three: Juliette Gauthier and Florence Glenn: Interpreters of “Canadian Folksongs” 3.1 Gauthier and Glenn Introduction 76 3.2 Glenn in Toronto 77 3.3 Gauthier in New York City 83 3.4 Glenn’s Early Solo Career 86 3.5 Performance Styles 88 3.6 Costumes 93 3.7 Repertoire 96 3.8 Concluding Remarks 98 Conclusion 100 Bibliography 104 Appendix A 112 Appendix B 138 Appendix C 145 iv Acknowledgments I would like to thank my advisor, Christopher Moore, who has devoted time and energy even while on sabbatical to provide valuable feedback for my work, as well as my committee members, Elaine Keillor and Paul Merkley, for their patience and support. I am also grateful to their colleague Murray Dineen, who has generously provided advice and encouragement over the last two years. I am grateful to the archivists of the Canadian Museum of History/Musée Canadien de l’Histoire, Jonathan Wise and Benoit Thériault, who granted access to the Glenn papers in advance of their official acceptance, as well as Nick Richbell of the Canadian Pacific Corporate Archives who was a kind and encouraging support over the course of my visits to Montreal. The University of Ottawa has generously provided financial support for my degree, through a combination of entrance scholarships and teaching-and research- assistantships. In addition, I am also thankful for the support of M. Coté through the Ernest Gagnon Scholarship, and the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada, who provided financially for my last year of study. Finally, to the amazing group of friends and family who have been a constant source of encouragement and inspiration throughout this process—Your thank-you letters are in the mail. v Abstract The Quebec City festivals of 1927 and 1928 represent a unique instance of close collaboration between prominent figures in Canadian musical and cultural history, John Murray Gibbon and Marius Barbeau. Based on Anglocentric concerns for a unique Canadian identity and corresponding school of composition, the festivals served as points of contact between many artists and performers, including Juliette Gauthier and Florence Glenn. An analysis of specific performances at the CPR festivals and over the course of Glenn and Gauthier’s respective careers showcase how racialized attitudes towards Indigenous populations, and the static conceptualization of French-Canadian folk culture were navigated to perform “Canadian folksong.” 1 Introduction John Murray Gibbon’s professional work in tourism, as publicity agent of the Canadian Pacific Railway (CPR), and avocational passion for folksongs in Canada inspired the organization of a series of Folksong and Handicraft Festivals at CPR hotels between 1927-1931. The Quebec City festivals of 1927 and 1928 were organized in collaboration with Marius Barbeau, Canadian anthropologist of the National Museum, and modeled after England’s folksong revival.1 In the face of growing concern regarding Canada’s perceived lack of culture and distinct national identity in the 1920s, Gibbon and Barbeau designed the Quebec City festivals to encourage a Canadian national school of composition based on French-Canadian folksong. Specific initiatives within the overall festival structure such as the 1927 E.W. Beatty composition contest, and the large-scale musical productions at the 1928 festival illustrated the desired narrative of Canada’s past, echoing the desired-for Anglo-centric unified identity, as nascent iterations of Gibbon’s cultural fantasy of the “Canadian Mosaic.” Performances by Juliette Gauthier and Florence Glenn, two folksong performers active between 1925 and 1950, further illustrated how Gibbon and Barbeau’s own ideologies concerning folk culture, race and nation-hood were disseminated to artists, and expressed musically both in and apart from the CPR festivals. Literature Review Studies which feature the CPR festivals as the singular topic are rare; the exception being the respective articles of Antonia Smith and Stuart Henderson, which 1 Currently the Canadian Museum of History/Musée Canadien de l’Histoire, formerly the Canadian Museum of Civilization (1986-2014); The National Museum of Man (1968-1986); National Museum (1927-1968); Museum Branch of the Department of Mines (Geological Survey of Canada) (1843-1927) housed at the Victoria Memorial Museum Building from 1910-1959. 2 specifically analyse the three CPR “Prairie festivals” of Winnipeg, Regina and Calgary, in terms of how they express Gibbon’s vision of the “Canadian Mosaic.”2 More often than not, this period of Canadian (music) history has been relegated to brief asides in works that discuss related themes or Barbeau and/or Gibbon’s work promoting the arts in Canada; examples of such works include Elaine Keillor’s 2006 survey of Canadian music and Gordana Lazarevich’s article on the CPR and arts-sponsorship.3 When compared to the other three subjects of this paper—Gauthier, Gibbon, and Glenn—the work and person of Barbeau has most often been the focus of contemporary scholarship. Of note is Sandra Dyck’s dissertation which analyses Barbeau’s efforts to promote Canadian nationalist arts using Indigenous cultural artifacts.4 Andrew Nurse has also produced several works of particular relevance to this study, which investigate the connections Barbeau made between his fieldwork and contemporary arts, including the representation and appropriation of Indigenous cultures.5 Florence Glenn’s career, with the exception of a section in Elaine Keillor’s article “Marius Barbeau and Musical Performers,” has been the subject of no scholarship to date; Juliette Gauthier’s career 2 Stuart Henderson, “‘While there is Still Time…’: J. Murray Gibbon and the Spectacle of Difference in Three CPR Folk Festivals, 1928-1931,” in Journal of Canadian Studies 39, no. 1 (Winter 2005): 139-174. Antonia Smith, “‘Cement for the Canadian Mosaic’: Performing Canadian Citizenship in the Work of John Murray Gibbon” in Race/Ethnicity: Multidisciplinary Global Contexts 1, no. 1 (2007): 37-60. See Appendix C for complete list of CPR festivals. 3 Gordana Lazarevich, “The Role of the Canadian Pacific Railway in Promoting Canadian Culture,” in Celebrating the Arts in Canada, ed. by Glen Carruthers and Gordana Lazarevich, Toronto: Canadian Scholars’ Press, Inc. (1996): 3-14. Elaine Keillor, Music in Canada: Capturing Landscape and Diversity, Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press, 2006. 4 Sandra Dyck, “‘These Things Are Out Totems’: Marius Barbeau & Indigenization of Canadian Art and Culture in the 1920s.” MA Thesis. Ottawa: Carleton University, 1995. 5 Andrew Nurse, “‘Their Ancient Customs are Gone’: Anthropology as Cultural Process.” Around and about Marius Barbeau: Modelling Twentieth-Century Culture. Ed. Lynda Jessup, Andrew Nurse and Gordon Smith. Gatineau, QC: Canadian Museum of Civilization (2008): 13-26. Also, Nurse, “Tradition and Modernity: The Cultural Work of Marius Barbeau.” PhD dissertation. Kingston, ON: Queen’s University, 1997. 3 (and that of her sister) was recently the focus of Anita Slominska’s dissertation.6 Gibbon’s life and career was the subject of Gary Kines’ 1988 thesis, which relies largely on Gibbon’s own unpublished autobiography in order to present what is in essence a biography.7 Janet McNaughton’s 1982 thesis is specifically devoted to the Quebec City festivals, although a good portion of her work examines the non-musical, handicraft elements incorporated into the festivals.8 Kines’ and McNaughton’s works are the de facto “primary sources” referred to by authors who have not, or were not able to reference archival sources. This thesis relies on previous scholarship to provide an analysis of the CPR festivals as physical and virtual spaces where a consciously constructed narrative of Canadian identity, designed specifically to encourage a Euro-centric model of culture, was enacted. A diverse group of readings has impacted this thesis, including Rosabelle Boswell’s analysis of heritage tourism in Mauritius and Christopher Wingfield’s examination of musical performances as part of museum programming.9 In addition, since the representation of Indigenous cultures via musical performance is a prominently reccurring theme over the course of this thesis, the respective works of Carole Gerson, Eva Mackey and Mariannette Jaimes-Guerrero which all examine the problematic 6 Keillor, “Marius Barbeau and Musical Performers,” in Canadian Journal for Traditional Music 31 (2004) 29-38; Anita Slominska, “Interpreting success and failure: The eclectic careers of Eva and Juliette Gauthier,” PhD Dissertation, Montreal: McGill University, 2009. 7 Gary Kines, “‘Chief Man-Of-Many-Sides:’ John Murray Gibbon and his Contributions to the Development of Tourism and the Arts in Canada,” MA thesis, Ottawa: Carleton University, 1988. 8 Janet McNaughton, “A Study of the CPR-Sponsored Quebec Folk Song and Handicraft Festivals, 1927-1930,” MA Thesis, St. John’s: Memorial University, 1982. 9 Rosabelle Boswell, “Heritage Tourism and Identity in the Mauritian Villages of Chamarel and Le Morne.” Journal of Southern African Studies 31, no. 2 (June 2005): 283-295. Christopher Wingfield, “‘Feeling the Vibes: Dealing with Intangible Heritage’—An Introduction,” in ‘Feeling the Vibes: Dealing with Intangible Heritage’: Papers from the Annual Conference of the Museum Ethnographers Group,” special issue, Journal of Museum Ethnography, no. 19 (March 2007): 9-20. 4 appropriation and portrayals of Indigenous culture in the nationalist narratives of colonial societies in North American, have been incredibly valuable.10 Methods At its core, this thesis is fundamentally based on archival study, and specifically on collections from both the Canadian Museum of History/Musée Canadien de l’Histoire (CMH/MCH) and the Canadian Pacific Corporate Archives. Of particular note is the collection of Glenn’s personal papers recently donated to the CMH/MHC, which, though currently awaiting a formal acquisitions and cataloguing processes, have been included (as a preliminary survey) in Appendix B. The essays in the 2008 publication Around and About Marius Barbeau: Modelling 20th-Century Culture have provided an excellent model of studies that, while based on archival materials, are both critical and informative. The respective chapters by Keillor, Jessup and Nurse are especially relevant to any study of the CPR festivals and Barbeau’s work in particular.11 While based on archival documentation of folksong performances, this thesis relies on contemporary heritage studies and cultural anthropology, thus facilitating a critical examination of these performances as part of the discursive process of national identity-formation. The works of Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett and Laurajane Smith, 10 Carole Gerson, “Nobler Savage: Representations of Native Women in the Writings of Susanna Moodie and Catharine Parr Traill,” in Journal of Canadian Studies 32, no. 3 (Été 1997 Summer): 5-21; Eva Mackey, “Becoming Indigenous: Land, Belonging, and the Appropriation of Aboriginality in Canadian Nationalist Narratives,” in Social Analysis 42, no. 2 (July 1998): 150-178; Marianette Jaimes-Guerrero, ““Savage Erotica Exotica: Media Imagery of Native Women in North America,” in Native North America, edited by Renée Hulan, Toronto: ECW Press (1999): 187-210. M.A. Jaimes*Guerrero, “‘Patriarchal Colonialism’ and Indigenism: Implications for Native Feminist Spirituality and Native Womanism,” in Hypatia 18, no. 2, Indigenous Women in the Americas (Spring 2003): 58-69. 11 Keillor, “Marius Barbeau as a Promoter of Folk Music Performance and Composition,” in Around and About Marius Barbeau: Modelling Twentieth-Century Culture, Ed. Lynda Jessup, Andrew Nurse, Gordon Smith. Gatineau, QC: Canadian Museum of Civilization (2008): 137-156; Jessup, “Marius Barbeau and Early Ethnographic Cinema,” Around and About Marius Barbeau: Modelling Twentieth-Century Culture, Ed. Lynda Jessup, Andrew Nurse, Gordon Smith. Gatineau, QC: Canadian Museum of Civilization (2008): 269-304; Nurse, “Their Ancient Customs are Gone,” See footnote 4. 5 and the theorization of heritage as a process rather than an (old) entity in and of itself, have specifically influenced this analysis.12 Kirshenblatt-Gimblett has identified several propositions which tether her argument of heritage-as-process and which feature in my discussion of the CPR festivals as sites of heritage-production: “(1) Heritage is a mode of cultural production in the present that has recourse to the past; (2) Heritage is a “value added” industry; (3) A hallmark of heritage is the problematic relationship of its objects to its instruments; and (4) A key to heritage is its virtuality, whether in the presence or absence of actualities.”13 Heritage-production requires an understanding of heritage as more than something that is seen or heard, but rather a negotiated understanding inclusive of the process of going to see and going to hear, the discussions of what to include and what to leave out, as well as the performances, exhibitions or knowledge-product produced. The CPR Quebec City festivals were not just concerts of French-Canadian music, or musical “heritage,” to use the term in its more common connotation of (historical) inheritance. As heritage tourism endeavours, the CPR festivals relied on a politicized and “instrumental use of the past,” both the result of, and with repercussions for, concepts of “identity, representation and preservation.”14 Tazim Jamal and Hyounggon Kim have compiled various works specifically devoted to examining the interplay between tourism and heritage (as theorized by Smith and Kirshenblatt-Gimblett).15 A similar study, which has impacted this work, is Katharine Ellis’ examination of how music of the past (“early” 12 Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett, “Theorizing Heritage,” in Ethnomusicology 29, no. 3 (Autumn 1995): 367-380; Laurajane Smith, The Uses of Heritage, Hoboken: Taylor and Francis, 2006. 13 ibid., 369. 14 Tazim Jamal and Hyounggon Kim, “Bridging the interdisciplinary divide: Towards an integrated framework for heritage tourism research,” Tourist Studies 5, no. 55 (2005): 58. 15 Tazim Jamal and Hyounggon Kim, “Bridging the interdisciplinary divide: Towards an integrated framework for heritage tourism research,” Tourist Studies 5, no. 55 (2005): 55-83. 6 music) was politicized in order to make sense of the present, in nineteenth-century Paris.16 Terminology Though the literature surrounding the CPR festivals refers to Canada’s indigenous inhabitants as “Indian” or “Eskimo,” the terms First Nations and Inuit, respectively, have replaced these dated terms in accepted practice. Throughout this thesis the term “Indigenous,” a globally inclusive term that includes respective Inuit, First Nations, and Métis populations, is used. While the cited primary literature often conflates the separate origins and identities of Indigenous peoples in Canada, or uses terms assigned by colonizing settler societies to refer to individual bands or nations within the First Nations, these have been replaced as a general rule here by names by which the given nation has self-identified. For example, Gauthier’s performances of Indigenous music included songs collected from Nuu-chah-nulth, Ktunaxa, and Dakelh communities, which are referred to in the primary literature respectively as “Nootka, Kootenay, and Carrier.”17 Overview of Chapters Chapter One provides an overview of the Canadian 1920s socio-cultural context and the English-Canadian aspirations for national identity during this same time. Gibbon’s publication, The Canadian Mosaic, is discussed in some length along with an examination of the problematic assumptions contained within this idealized vision of Canadian society.18 Since the CPR festivals relied on a grasp of the musical convention of producing nationalist works based on folksong, this chapter outlines the idea of “the 16 Katharine Ellis, Interpreting the Musical Past: Early Music in Nineteenth-Century Paris, Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2005. 17 See https://www.itk.ca/note-terminology-inuit-metis-first-nations-and-aboriginal 18 J. Murray Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, The Making of a Northern Nation. Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1938. 7 Folk” as traditionally understood in Europe, and the implications of such an agenda for Canadian society. The last portion of the chapter provides a basic overview of the CPR festival structure, and biographical information for several of the professional performers who participated at the Quebec City festivals, as well as composers whose work was featured at the CPR festivals and in the E.W. Beatty composition contest. Chapter Two introduces the CPR festivals as heritage tourism endeavours, in that they rely on assumptions made about the past, and a politicized mobilization of those perceptions over the course of the festivals. Themes include the idea of the past as vital for national identity, of the performances and music as “different,” of the performers themselves as representative of “the Folk” and the problems inherent in this static portrayal of a culture. This chapter presents an analysis of four large-scale musical/theatrical productions performed at the festivals: Jeu de Robin et de Marion, L’Ordre de bon-temps, Madame de Repentigny et sa ‘manufacture,’ and Les Forestiers et Voyageurs. These works presented audiences with a certain image of Canadian history, convenient for and compatible with the Anglo-centric desires for a national Canadian identity. Over the course of the festivals, specific performances by Gauthier and Indigenous artists from the Huron-Wendat nation, as well as Florence Glenn (as part of The Music Makers) emphasize Barbeau’s role in determining “authenticity” with regards to “the Folk.” Chapter Three presents a comparison of Glenn and Gauthier’s respective careers as folksong interpreters in the decade surrounding the CPR festivals at Quebec City. Parallels are drawn between the festivals and Glenn’s early study and performances in Toronto in the early 1920s, and Gauthier’s folksong performance, including the Town 8 Hall recital designed specifically to advertise for the CPR festival of 1927. As each artist made decisions about their repertoire and performance style, this reveals an understanding of French-Canadian and Indigenous cultures largely compatible with the model of the CPR festivals, and in particular, Barbeau’s scholarship on the subject. Preliminary Conclusions The Quebec City festivals of 1927 and 1928 represent a unique instance of close collaboration between prominent figures in Canadian musical and cultural history, John Murray Gibbon and Marius Barbeau. Based on Anglocentric concerns for a unique Canadian identity and corresponding school of composition, the festivals served as points of contact between many artists and performers, including Juliette Gauthier and Florence Glenn. An analysis of specific performances over the course of Glenn and Gauthier’s respective careers, as well as at the CPR festivals showcase how racialized attitudes towards Indigenous populations, and the static conceptualization of French-Canadian folk culture were navigated to perform “Canadian folksong.” 9 Chapter One: Intellectual Backgrounds of the CPR Festivals 1.1 Nationalist Network The efforts of Gibbon and Barbeau to represent and unite Canada through music at the CPR festivals (and over the course of their careers) stemmed from a broader, nationalist campaign to identify and promote Canada’s identity to the international stage as a mature and independent nation. Antonia Smith describes the interwar years as a period when Canada “inhabited a shifting space between nation and colony,” just as “Canadian citizens occupied a fluid space between legal British subjecthood and discursive Canadian citizenship.”1 The prevailing attitude amongst Anglo-Canadians, as David Pearson explains, was such that “settlers viewed themselves as part of a transnational British kin group, bound together by ties of ‘race’ and national origin.”2 Several contemporary authors, including Mary Vipond and Sandra Dyck, have used the term “nationalist network,” to describe the mutually-beneficial relationships between Anglophone cultural and social leaders in Eastern Canada in the 1920s. This informal network of upper-middle class businessmen, politicians and artists furthered the nationalist interests of Eastern Anglophone Canada, in pursuit of the “common vision of a cultured, autonomous nation.”3 In addition to Gibbon and Barbeau this “nationalist network” included, among others, composer Ernest MacMillan, artist Arthur Lismer of 1 Antonia Smith, “‘Cement for the Canadian Mosaic’: Performing Canadian Citizenship in the Work of John Murray Gibbon,” in Race/Ethnicity: Multidisciplinary Global Contexts 1, no. 1 (2007): 40. Mackenzie King (Prime Minister from 1921-30, 1935-48) advocated for a decentralized British Empire, and Canada’s independence as a dominion within the Empire. Several Imperial Conferences (1923, 1926) and the Statute of Westminster (1931) granted Canada control of its foreign policy. 2 David Pearson, “Theorizing Citizenship in British Settler Societies,” in Ethnic and Racial Studies 25, no. 6 (2002): 994. 3 Mary Vipond, “The National Network: English Canada’s Intellectuals and Artists in the 1920s,” Canadian Review of Studies in Nationalism 7, no. 1 (Spring 1980): 32-52; Sandra Dyck, “These Things Are Our Totems,” 8. 10 the Group of Seven, Duncan Campbell Scott of the Department of Indian Affairs, Graham Spry of the Association of Canadian Clubs and Toronto politician, Vincent Massey. 4 Barbeau, Dyck writes, was “literally singular” as a “Francophone who supported the Anglophone nationalist agenda” and was “a fully integrated member of its ‘network.’”5 To quote Thompson and Seager, “the English-Canadian goal of building a “Canadian national spirit” was the antithesis of French-Canadian resolve to survive as a French Catholic nation” that is, as a linguistically, culturally and religiously unique society.6 This “nationalist network” endeavoured to “[build] a Canadian national spirit,” which generally employed a rhetoric that proposed “‘winning a background’ for Canada in terms of cultural history and nationalism.” 7 The notion that a “background” is something that could be “won,” however, relies on the assumption that a nation’s fully formed historical narrative exists in some a priori sense, waiting to be found. A national identity imagined as coherent depends on a retrospective gaze, and a memory at once collective and selective, which serves to unite a people around a carefully constructed narrative of shared history and traditions. Since a nation, a people, are not monoliths, the nature (story) of a nation, as Homi Bhabha writes, is ambivalent, comprised of “competing dispositions of human association,” an amalgamation of and interplay between private and public spheres of interest.8 Further, the nation functions, as Benedict 4 Dyck, “These Things Are Our Totems,” 8. 5 ibid., 9. 6 John Thompson and Allen Seager, Canada 1922-1939: Decades of Discord, Toronto: MacMillan and Stewart, 1985; Dyck, “These Things Are Our Totems,” 9. 7 Dyck, “These Things Are Our Totems,” 11. 8 Homi Bhabha, Nation and Narration, London: Routledge (1990): 2. 11 Anderson memorably described, only as an “imagined political community,” relying on tenuous connections and affirmations of shared–ness to survive.9 The selective narration of Canadian identity by the nationalist network in which Barbeau and Gibbon circulated crafted the very background it sought to “win.” In addition to the tensions between English-nationalism and what Dyck refers to as the “inward-looking Quebec nationalism” that developed through the 1920s, 10 it was uncomfortably obvious that neither (French nor English) were the land’s original inhabitants. Terry Goldie describes this anxiety as it relates to the concept of ‘belonging’ in/to Canada: “The Indian is Other and therefore alien. But the Indian is indigenous and therefore cannot be alien. So the Canadian must be alien. But how can the Canadian be alien within Canada?”11 In addition to the fraught dynamic between colonizers (French and English) and colonized, British-Canadians were also unsettled by the rapid changes in Canadian demographics in the first quarter of the twentieth century. Between 1901 and 1931, the number of European-born immigrants rose from 125,000 to 714,000, and although immigration peaked in 1913 (at over 400,000), the continued acceptance of large numbers of “foreign-born,” alternately called “New Canadians,” persisted until 1931.12 As A. Smith writes, British-Canadians were suspicious of new immigrants, and specifically concerned with whether they were capable of “[subsuming] previous forms of allegiance, so-called ‘deep identities’ such as religious, ethnic, and regional affiliations 9 Benedict Anderson, Imagined Communities: Reflections on the Origin and Spread of Nationalism, Revised Edition. London: Verso (2006): 6. 10 Dyck, “These Things Are Our Totems,” 8. 11 Terry Goldie, Fear and Temptation: The Image of the Indigene in Canadian, Australian and New Zealand Literature, Montreal: McGill-Queen’s University Press (1989): 12. 12 K.G. Basavarajappa and Bali Ram, “Historical statistics of Canada, Section A: Population and Migration,” Statistics Canada, http://www.statcan.gc.ca/pub/11-516-x/sectiona/4147436-eng.htm#1. 12 in favour of the universal status of citizen.”13 The state of citizenship in Canada, however, was part of this fluid identity; Canadians were British citizens by law until the Citizenship Act of 1947.14 The fluid nature of Canadian identity during this period exacerbated concerns over immigration, since there was a lack of consensus as to what these immigrants should be assimilated into. 1.2 The Canadian “Mosaic” The narrative of Canadian identity that ultimately emerged during the interwar period was that of the “mosaic”: an idealist (fantastical) rendering of Canadian society iterated in John Murray Gibbon’s influential volume, The Canadian Mosaic: The Making of a Northern Nation. 15 Published in 1938, the 400-plus-page volume consisted of essentialist descriptions of several dozen European immigrant groups present in Canada, and was indebted to Gibbon’s earlier work with the CPR festivals, subsequent radio programs, and intellectual engagement with European ideologies of empire, race and folk culture.16 A critical evaluation of this model will prove integral for an understanding of how the CPR festivals in Quebec City were approached intellectually. Recently Antonia Smith and Stuart Henderson have deftly disassembled the myth of the mosaic, specifically in 13 Smith, “Cement for the Canadian Mosaic,” 40; Janine Brodie, “Three Stories of Canadian Citizenship,” in Contesting Canadian Citizenship: Historical Readings, ed. Robert Adamoski, Dorothy Chunn, Robert Menzies, Peterborough: Broadview Press, Ltd. (2002): 43-68. 14 Valerie Knowles, Forging our Legacy: Canadian Citizenship and Immigration, 1900-1977 (Ottawa: Public Works and Government Services Canada, 2000), 65. To the present day Canadian citizens remain citizens of the British Commonwealth. 15 John Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic: The Making of a Northern Nation, Toronto: McClelland & Stewart, 1938. 16 ibid., The Canadian Mosaic, 1938. 13 connection with the CPR festivals that took place in Calgary, Regina and Winnipeg, and their work informs much of the ensuing analysis.17 Several usages of the term “mosaic” used in reference to the variety of immigrant communities in Canada predate the publication of The Canadian Mosaic.18 Gibbon’s imperialist appropriation of the term, however, presented the mosaic as both a metaphor and template for his idealist fantasy of Canadian society, which maintained the British- Canadians majority as status quo, while (benevolently) managing diversity. Gibbon’s imperialist intentions are clear early on in the text, where he provides a succinct outline of the “Canadian mosaic.” “The Canadian people today presents itself as a decorated surface, bright with inlays of separate coloured pieces, not painted in colours blended with brush on palette. The original background in which the inlays are set is still visible, but these inlays cover more space than that background, and so the ensemble may truly be called a mosaic.”19 Pearson interprets the background of Gibbon’s mosaic as the “Family of Empire,” the imperialist relationship between Britain and her colonizing citizens across the globe, while Antonia Smith reads the background as inclusive of the first four “races” identified in The Canadian Mosaic, namely the French, English, Scottish and Irish. 20 Both contemporary interpretations affirm the British-centred nature of the mosaic, reflective of Gibbon’s status as a core member of imperialist British society, as well as of the Canadian, Anglocentric “nationalist network.” 17 Antonia Smith, “Cement for the Canadian Mosaic”: Performing Canadian Citizenship in the Work of John Murray Gibbon,” in Race/Ethnicity: Multidisciplinary Global Contexts 1, no. 1, Transnational Migration, Race and Citizenship (Autumn, 2007): 37-60; Stuart Henderson, “‘While there is Still Time…’: J. Murray Gibbon and the Spectacle of Difference in Three CPR Folk Festivals, 1928-1931,” in Journal of Canadian Studies 39, no. 1 (Winter 2005): 139-174. 18 Victoria Hayward, Romantic Canada, Toronto: MacMillan & Co., 1922; Kate Foster, Our Canadian Mosaic, Toronto: Dominion Council of Y.W.C.A., 1926. 19 Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, viii. 20 A. Smith, “Cement for the Canadian Mosaic,” 51. 14 The Canadian Mosaic relied implicitly on popular eugenicist readings of racial and ethnic identities, and the idea that shared racial traits and characteristics were passed genetically from generation to generation. (Gibbon generally conflated ethnicity and nationality, referring often to “racial stocks,” or “types,” as in “German-type.”) The “Canadian race of the future,” according to Gibbon, was in the process of 1) being formed, or “made up of over thirty European racial groups, each of which has its own history, customs and traditions,” and 2) being “superimposed on the original native Indian races.”21 By Gibbon’s own admission The Canadian Mosaic was influenced by his observations of what he referred to as “England’s composite character,” one that he viewed as being enriched by each “new element.” 22 In order to mimic what he characterized as a positive method of assimilation and incorporation of these “new elements,” Gibbon’s survey of immigrant communities outlined his opinions as to the strengths and weaknesses of each “race” according to what he believed they could, as a people, offer the “Family of Empire.”23 This belief that there were qualities worth preserving amongst each of these “thirty European” groups was benevolent in contrast to what Henderson refers to as “the ubiquitous Canadian racism which Gibbon sought to overcome, or, at least, to transform.”24 Gibbon opted to confine his survey to the “European racial groups in Canada,” and of those, only the “white-skinned Europeans known as Caucasians.” 25 No 21 Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, vii. 22 J. Murray Gibbon, “Canadian Letters and the New Canadian,” in The Empire Club of Canada Addresses, Toronto: Empire Club of Canada (1924) speech delivered November 22, 1923. 23 Pearson, “Theorizing Citizenship in British Settler Societies,” 994; Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, viii. 24 Henderson, “While there is still time,” 147. 25 Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, xi & 2. 15 justification is provided for this approach, but as A. Smith claims, Gibbon’s decision was likely influenced by John Woodsworth’s book, Strangers Within Our Gates, or Coming Canadians (1909), wherein the latter reiterated the widely held belief that “Orientals, and others who are not white-skinned, simply cannot be assimilated.”26 (It should also be noted that Gibbon believed Canada’s immigrant communities had “left Europe because they were glad to get out,” after finding themselves “without a country—or at least without a country that they loved—transformed overnight by some Treaty from one allegiance to another.”27) In contrast to comparative American policies, described as “hurrying to make every citizen a 100 per cent American,” Gibbon believed the Canadian assimilation process should proceed carefully and with intentionality—“to collect and separate and perhaps ourselves fabricate the tesserae or little slabs of colour required”—for the creation of the mosaic. 28 Gibbon’s writing continually mobilizes a rhetoric of collecting and separating to describe the subjective identification of “worthwhile qualities and traditions” of each ethnic community, with the goal of “preserving” these qualities for the “future Canadian race.”29 These carefully selected “worthwhile” traits, or “inlays of separate coloured pieces” could then be incorporated into society, and encouraged, as new immigrants became “New Canadians.” The Canadian Mosaic showcased a feminized, domesticated version of ethnicity, one easily assimilated into the broader Canadian society through intermarriage. Gibbon’s writing was in keeping with the 1931 Canadian census, which defined “origin in the case 26 A. Smith, “Cement for the Canadian Mosaic,” 56. The “Hebrew type” is the last group surveyed, and would seem to represent the limits of Gibbon’s “mosaic.” 27 Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, 414. 28 ibid., vii & 413. 29 ibid., vii. 16 of those of European descent… through the father.”30 Women were more desirable as immigrants since their ethnic identities could be subsumed into those of their Canadian husbands’. Families of “mixed-origin” were classified wholly in accordance with the father’s ethnicity, allowing for the disappearance of “negative” qualities according to Gibbon’s model, in one generation.31 The majority of illustrations in Gibbon’s book were of demure women in traditional folk costumes, the exception being a grandfatherly “French-Canadian type” with pipe in hand, and the noble “Scots-Canadian type” of the “Family of Empire.” Male sketches of “Norwegian- and Swedish-Canadian types” were also included. This inclusion, combined with the preferential treatment of Scandinavian immigrants at the Prairie festivals, has lead A. Smith to the conclusion that immigrants from Scandinavia were viewed as allies, and granted a level of respect in light of a shared “whiteness.”32 Gibbon’s description of “a decorated surface, bright with inlays of separate coloured pieces” lends itself well to one of the essential purposes of the mosaic—the management of difference within the nation, to the maintenance of an Anglo-centric superiority. The primacy of British-Canada as the background to Gibbon’s social and cultural fantasy of the “Canadian mosaic” served as a plumb line against which the suitability of all Others/others was evaluated. To borrow from Bhabha, cultural boundaries as expressed in Gibbon’s mosaic, present “containing thresholds of meaning,” or the “limits of acceptability” for a nation.”33 30 Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, viii. 31 ibid., viii. 32 A. Smith, “Cement for the Canadian Mosaic,” 55. 33 Bhabha, Nation and Narration, 4. 17 The final chapter of Gibbon’s monograph examined the various institutions responsible for creating what he referred to as “cement for the Canadian Mosaic” which “held together such varying racial elements as the conditions of the world have brought to settle in what is now known as the Dominion of Canada.”34 In addition to a variety of religious and community organizations as well as social clubs, such as the Boy Scouts, Y.M.C.A./Y.W.C.A. and the Red Cross, educational institutions played a key role in creating the “cement” for Gibbon’s mosaic. The chapter included quotes from several organizations describing their work to “promote tolerance and understanding between Native [ie. of the British-centered background] and New Canadians.”35 In order to “hold together” the various “elements” in Canada, these institutions conveyed the cultural boundaries of the nation and disseminated assimilationist education, enacting the transformative work of “creating” “New Canadians.” The emphasis throughout the chapter was placed on educating children, since, as Gibbon wrote, their “minds readily accept the life and thought of the country their parents have chosen for their home.”36 To this end, the Canadian public school system was considered the “finest and strongest cement,” teaching “foreign children…to become good Canadians.”37 This articulation of “foreigners” who became “Canadians” was an important distinction. The work of one organization in particular, the Imperial Daughters of the Empire (I.O.D.E.), clearly resonated with Gibbon, as he devoted an entire page to the extended description of their “Immigration and Canadianization” work, which included ceremonies that were held throughout the Dominion to welcome and “impress 34 Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, 413. 35 ibid., 417. 36 ibid., 425. 37 ibid., 417 & 419. 18 upon New Canadians of foreign birth the privileges and duties of British citizenship.38 The ceremonies included a reminder to these “New Canadians” that though their papers “entitle them to citizenship in the Dominion of Canada, true citizenship belongs in their own hearts.”39 As these “New Canadians” were welcomed to the societal masterpiece of the mosaic, they were reminded of their carefully managed and contained status as “colour” (for the Family of Empire background.) 1.3 Folk Inspiration The inaugural Folk Song and Handicrafts Festival took place at the Chateau Frontenac in Quebec City, from May 20-22, 1927. As Chief Publicity Agent of the CPR, Gibbon designed the Quebec City festivals in collaboration with Canadian anthropologist Marius Barbeau of the National Museum. Both Gibbon and Barbeau were particularly concerned with creating a narrative of Canadian musical identity by mobilizing French- Canadian folk culture, and forging an explicit cultural connection to Europe through the appropriation of French art music; the Quebec City festivals of 1927 and 1928 were intended to have broad applications as nationalist models for a burgeoning musical culture. Sponsored by the Canadian Pacific Railway, and presented under the auspices of the National Museum of Canada, the 1927 Quebec City festival was first in a Canada- wide series of sixteen festivals hosted by and at CPR hotels between 1927 and 1931.40 In The Canadian Mosaic, Gibbon retrospectively identified the CPR festivals, which aimed to showcase a particular region’s local communities, as forerunners of a tradition that 38 ibid., 415-416. Gibbon cited from Echoes, publication of the IODE since 1912. See www.iode.ca/echoes.html. 39 Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, 416. 40 A complete list of festivals will be in Appendix C. 19 served to remind a “younger generation of New Canadians that they have a heritage of music and handicraft which is worth preserving.”41 As they organized the Quebec City festivals to promote a national school of composition for Canada, Gibbon and Barbeau took their cue from European classical traditions. The renewed interest in English folksong for education and composition, at times referred to as the “English folk revival,” as well as Barbeau and Gibbon’s respective study in Europe (primarily at Oxford University) influenced both men’s plans for Canadian classical composition. Kines describes Gibbon’s efforts promoting Canadian music, particularly the CPR festivals, as being motivated by “the possibility of Canada experiencing a folk revival similar to England.”42 As McNaughton summarizes, the “hoped for results of [the festivals] was to be a folk revival for Canada similar to the revival experienced in England, and a parallel emergence of a national school of music compositions based on folk music themes.”43 Both Gibbon and Barbeau were in England in the years following what Janet McNaughton refers to as Cecil Sharp’s “vigorous reorganization,” of the Folk-Song Society in England (from 1904).44 Song-collectors had travelled the English countryside for the better part of the 1800s to catalogue their nation’s folksongs, often broadly defined to include parlour songs in addition to those songs passed on via oral tradition. 41 Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, 424. The festival tradition was carried on, according to Gibbon, by organizations such as the Kiwanis Club. 42 Gary Kines, “‘Chief Man-Of-Many-Sides:’ John Murray Gibbon and his Contributions to the Development of Tourism and the Arts in Canada,” MA thesis, Carleton University: Ottawa (April 1988): 108. See also Francis Slaney, “Artistic Labour and the Embodiment of Culture: Marius Barbeau’s Canadian Anthropology of Art as a Vision from Oxford and Paris,” in Around and About Marius Barbeau: Modeling Twentieth-Century Culture, ed. Lynda Jessup, Andrew Nurse and Gordon Smith. Gatineau: Canadian Museum of Civilization Corporation (2008): 27-64. 43 McNaughton, “Quebec Folk Song and Handicraft Festivals,” 21. 44 McNaughton, “Quebec Folk Song and Handicraft Festivals,” 17. Gibbon worked as a journalist in London prior to being hired by the CPR in 1907. Barbeau studied at Oxford, and in Paris at La Sorbonne between 1907-1910. 20 Sharp’s reforms included the redefinition of folksong as those transmitted orally from one generation to the next, as well as educational initiatives to encourage classical composition based on a familiarity with folksong.45 This renewed emphasis on folksong in England followed an established pattern wherein many European nations collected songs and stories of their “Folk” populations in an effort to identify and promote their respective “national spirit.”46 These nationalist endeavours were informed by the philosophy of Johann Herder, and his conceptualization of “the Folk” and corresponding folk traditions as expressions of the “national spirit,” or “collective soul” of a society. Yet, since the word Folk (or Volk, in Herder’s original German) was used to describe both the peasants living in traditional fashion, and the people of a nation as a whole, this linguistic bridge facilitated the claim that the Folk traditions could embody the nation as a collective.47 However productive the European model of basing a national school of composition on “the Folk,” and corresponding folk traditions was, it became increasingly problematic when applied to Canada. The so-called ‘founding nations’ of Canada— Britain and France—were themselves immigrants to a land long-populated by Indigenous communities. Due to the perceived superiority of the European settlers, and much like the model of The Canadian Mosaic which advocated the “superimposition” of the “Canadian race” over the lands’ original inhabitants, the national school of Canadian music 45 E. David Gregory, The Late Victorian Folksong Revival: The Persistence of English Melody, 1878- 1903, Lanham, Md.: Scarecrow Press (2010): 4. See also: Christopher J. Bearman, “The English Folk Music Movement 1898-1914,” PhD. Diss. Kingston upon Hull: University of Hull, 2001. 46 Jane Alden, Songs, Scribes & Society, Oxford: Oxford University Press (2010): 16. 47 Ian McKay, The quest of the folk: antimodernism and cultural selection in twentieth-century Nova Scotia, Montreal: McGill-Queen's University Press (1994): 12. 21 promoted by the CPR festivals of Quebec City would not be based on Indigenous music traditions. Ian Mackay describes “the Folk” in this tradition as (representing) “the essential and unchanging solidarity of traditional society.”48 Since French settlers had continuously occupied (Canadian) territory for more than a century before the Treaty of Paris transferred Canada to British rule in 1763, French-Canadian traditional culture was identified as “the Folk” for Canada, and its music as the basis for a national music. The added benefit of this strategy was that “Canadian music history,” one based on French- Canadian folksong as a means of providing further legitimacy, could then be incorporated into the well-established European tradition, by highlighting its links to French music of the seventeenth century. As Stefan Berger writes in the introduction to his monograph, Writing the Nation, “nation-builders everywhere agreed: their nation had to have a history- the longer and the prouder the better.”49 This approach was taken quite seriously with regards to Canadian music history, and emphasized throughout the Quebec City festivals whether in the literature that accompanied the performances or in the repertoire featured there. 1.4 Overview of the Quebec City CPR Festivals The format of both Quebec City festivals was roughly the same—ticketed matinee and evening performances each full day of the festival either at the Chateau Frontenac, or Auditorium Theatre, as well as free, informal concerts at Dufferin Terrace, where a backdrop of a cabin had been constructed near the Chateau Frontenac.50 Each years’ program also included a special concert at the Basilica (the Cathedral-Basilica of Notre- 48 McKay, The quest of the folk, 12. 49 Stefan Berger, Writing the Nation: a Global Perspective, Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan (2007): 1. 50 For a complete list of performers and concerts, according to the festival programs, see Appendix A. 22 Dame du Québec), which was described in the respective programs as a “fully choral High Mass… followed by Canticles sung by La Petite Maitrise” (1927) and “Gregorian music and folk canticles” (1928).51 In addition to the musical components, the Chateau Frontenac hosted demonstrations and static displays of handicrafts (weaving, spinning etc.) over the course of the festivals, a model adhered to by many of the subsequent CPR festivals. The Quebec City festivals also featured visual arts on loan from collections of the National Gallery of Canada, Victoria National Museum and Public Archives of Canada.52 All-inclusive travel packages in 1927 were advertised from Montreal starting at $39.50 including transportation to and from Quebec City, concert admission, accommodation and meals at the Chateau for the duration of the festival.53 Dedicated festival trains and similar all-inclusive packages were also arranged from New York City, Boston, and Toronto.54 Individual concert tickets were sold for $1, or $3 for all five of the 1927 concerts, whereas subscription prices for various combinations of ticketed performances ranging from $3.30 to $14.85 are listed on the 1928 general program.55 As Marc Charpentier examines in his thesis concerning musical theatre productions in Montreal in the 1920s, working class Quebecers made less than $20.00 a week, box seats for musical theatre productions were between $2.00-3.00, while some theatres offered general admission at $0.50—double the cost of a movie ticket, $0.25.56 The Quebec City 51 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 20-22, 1927); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928). See Appendix A. 52 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 20-22, 1927); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928). 53 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Promotional pamphlet (May 20-22, 1927). 54 Kines, “Chief-Man-of-Many-Sides,” 113. 55 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 4: Promotional program (May 24-28, 1928). 56 Marc Charpentier, “Broadway North: Musical Theatre in Montreal in the 1920s,” PhD Thesis, McGill University: Montreal (July 1999): 90. 23 festivals were pricey for the average resident, but from all accounts the festivals were well attended. The CP Bulletin of June 1927 reported: “…five concerts with programmes varied so as to give examples of everything in the national folklore and folksong, beginning Friday evening, May 20, after special Canadian Pacific trains had brought in their load of visitors, when all available seat and standing- room in the big Chateau Frontenac ballroom was occupied—the same thing occurred at the two following evening concerts, and at the matinees there were no vacant seats.”57 Gibbon distinguished between two types of performers at the Quebec City CPR festivals, “Folk Singers and Crafts Workers” and “Artists and Composers.”58 The latter designated classically trained, professional performers, while the former included amateur musicians, dancers and singers, many of whom Barbeau knew from his ethnographic fieldwork. Many of the professional artists performed arrangements of collected folksong sent to them by Barbeau or Gibbon, although as Gibbon confided to Juliette Gauthier, “like all other musical people, they appear to have very decided opinions as to what is what and they won’t be dictated to.”59 In addition to Gauthier, four professional performers were specifically highlighted in the promotional material for the inaugural festival: Rodolphe Plamondon, Jeanne Dusseau, J. Campbell McInnes, and Charles Marchand.60 Plamondon received top billing at the 1927 festival, and opened the first evening’s recital with a presentation of “troubadour songs of the eleventh and twelfth centuries” accompanied by the Hart House Quartet of Toronto. 61 A subsequent 57 CP Archives: CP Bulletin 221, Section 33, Montreal (June 1, 1927). 58 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 20-22, 1927); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928). 59 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon (April 26, 1927). 60 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Promotional program (May 20-22, 1927). 61 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Friday evening program (May 20, 1927); Gilles Potvin, Annick Poussart, and James McPherson, “Rodolphe Plamondon,” in The Canadian Encyclopedia, June 28, 2007. (updated December 15, 2013). Plamondon (1876-1940) was a Canadian tenor and cellist, who studied with Louis Charbonneau (cello), Frédéric Pelletier (solfège) and Guillaume Couture (voice). Plamondon traveled 24 performance featured collected folksongs of France and Canada, arranged by a variety of composers including French musicologist, Émile Vuillermoz.62 Plamondon appeared in two of the large-scale productions at the 1928 festival, as the “chevalier” in Le Jeu de Robin et Marion and as Marc Lescarbot in L’Ordre de Bon-Temps.63 Recently returned from Europe, Plamondon enthusiastically participated in the festival and even suggested singing the troubadour selections in costume.64 Barbeau, too, believed the troubadour songs were an excellent idea, since he considered them to be “usually beautiful and refined and … not out of keeping by any means with the folk songs.”65 Jeanne Dusseau (née Ruth Thom) was based in Toronto at the time of the festivals, and selected her own repertoire from Twelve French Canadian Folk Songs, which featured arrangements of Barbeau’s collected music by English composer, Arthur Somervell.66 Though Gibbon’s private correspondence indicated she was not “strong in French,” noting that she had learned the folksong Je sais bien quelque chose as Je suis bien, he nonetheless advertised her in the program as an “ardent lover and brilliant interpreter of folksong in many languages.”67 At the 1928 festival Dusseau performed a themed collection of arrangements (“Rossignol”) by Alfred La Liberté and was part of the cast of the production of Madame de Repentigny et sa ‘manufacture.’68 Prior to the to France in 1895 where he continued his studies prior to making his official debut in London, December 1897. He pursued an operatic career and sang supporting roles at Vichy (1899), Cairo (1900), Monte Carlo (1904, 1906) and Orange (1905) prior to his Paris debut in 1923. 62 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Sunday matinee program (May 22, 1927). See Appendix A. 63 See Appendix A. 64 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon (March 31, 1927). 65 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Barbeau (March 30, 1927). 66 See Appendix A. CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon (April 18, 1927). Gibbon wrote: Dusseau “wishes to sing chiefly from the Somervell book.” Twelve French Canadian Folk Songs, transl. Harold Boulton (London: Boosey & Hawkes, 1927). 67 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Promotional pamphlet (May 20-22, 1927). 68 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Thursday evening (May 24, 1928). 25 festivals, Dusseau toured with the Association of Canadian Clubs (organized by Barbeau) and performed one season with the Chicago Opera Company (1921-1922).69 Charles Marchand, a “well-known chansonnier of Montreal,” was a founding member of the Bytown Troubadours, a folksong performance group based in Ottawa who performed at both Quebec City festivals. The composer Oscar O’Brien had a previous working relationship with the group and arranged much of Marchand’s solo repertoire from the collections of Ernest Gagnon and Barbeau, as well as that of the quartet.70 Another significant addition to the Quebec City festivals was J. Campbell McInnes; originally from England, McInnes had performed for Cecil Sharp and Lucy Broadhead’s folksong lectures before moving to Toronto in 1919.71 Billed in the program as “specialized in the study of folksongs, French as well as British,” McInnes’ contributions to the 1927 and 1928 festivals included his own solo performances of arrangements by Willan, La Liberté and MacMillan, in addition to rehearsing and 69 James McPherson, “Jeanne Dusseau,” in The Canadian Encyclopedia, July 30, 2007. (updated December 16, 2013). Dusseau (b. Ruth Cleveland, 1893- ?) was a soprano, originally from Glasgow, who studied with M.M. Stevenson, Atherton Furlong and Guiseppe Carboni. Dusseau made her official debut at Foresters’ Hall in November 1912, and sang 1921-22 with the Chicago Opera. In 1928 Dusseau toured with the Association of Canadian Clubs Tour, then made her London debut in October 1929 at Wigmore Hall. Dusseau also participated in several of the other CPR Festivals, including the Banff Scottish Highland Days festival (1927), Vancouver Sea Music festival (1929); CP Archives: CP Bulletin 221, Section 55, Montreal (September 1, 1927); CP Archives: CP Bulletin 240, Section 53, Montreal (January 1, 1929). See also Keillor, “Marius Barbeau and Musical Performers,” in Canadian Journal for Traditional Music 31 (2004) 29-38. 70 O’Brien also arranged songs for groups of “Rondes et Danses Enfantines” (1927, 1928). Gilles Potvin, “Oscar O’Brien,” in The Canadian Encyclopedia, February 7, 2006. (updated December 16, 2013). O’Brien (1892-1958) was a Canadian composer and pianist. O’Brien studied piano and organ with Amédée Tremblay and De La Salle Academy and the University of Ottawa. In 1915 began his collaboration with Marchand as accompanist and arranger, which lasted until Marchand’s death in 1930. From (1930-1945) O’Brien served as the artistic director for Alouette Vocal Quartet. He entered the Benedictine monastery of St-Benoît-du-Lac, QC in 1945. 71 James McPherson, “Campbell McInnes,” in The Canadian Encyclopedia, May 8, 2007. (updated December 15, 2013). McInnes (b Holcombe Brook, 1873/4- 1945) studied in London with William Shakespeare, George Henschel, Charles Santley, and in Paris with Jacques Bouhy. After his debut in 1899 McInnes became a regular participant at English festivals, including Leeds (1910) and Worcester (1911). McInnes participated in at least one other CPR festival (Banff 1927). See CP Archives: CP Bulletin 224, Section 55, Montreal (September 1, 1927). See also Keillor, “Marius Barbeau and Musical Performers,” in Canadian Journal for Traditional Music 31 (2004) 29-38. 26 directing Florence Glenn and the other members of The Music Makers (called The Canadian Singers at the 1928 festival).72 A detailed examination of Glenn’s career, along with that of Gauthier, who was something of an anomaly amongst the professional performers since she preferred to sing unaccompanied and unarranged repertoire, will serve as case studies in the ensuing chapters. 1.5 Canadian Composition at the CPR Festivals In a letter to officials of the National Museum in early 1927, Gibbon identified two goals of the upcoming festival: to “increase the interest in folksongs of Quebec,” and to draw “attention to the collection of folk song melodies” in the museum collections.73 The majority of the repertoire performed by professionals were arrangements, called “harmonizations” in the literature, of these collected folksongs by Canadian composers. Gibbon wanted the festival performances to appeal to the broadest possible audience. As he wrote to Barbeau, they ought to “consider not only the music critics …but general public too,” and they solicited the participation of various composers.74 In addition to containing biographical information of the professional performers, the annotated festival programs also provided lists of repertoire, lyrics for select numbers, the provenance of the folksongs (ie what collection), as well as information about folksong anthologies in which many of the arrangements had been published. As previously mentioned, the promotion of a Canadian national school of music at the CPR festivals and in Gibbon’s own work was dependent on the understanding of French-Canadian culture as the “Folk” for Canada. His romantic view of national 72 See Appendix A. 73 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon to Dr. Collings of the National Museum (January 20, 1927). 74 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon (March 2, 1927). 27 composition was articulated in the introduction to Twenty-One Folk-Songs of French Canada, an edited compilation of arrangements by composers who participated at the festivals: “Fortunate it is for the musical future of Canada that this love of folk-song has never died out in the Province of Quebec. The great musicians and composers of history have seldom come from the ranks of the rich—they are the choice flowers blooming from peasant stock. These composers, moreover, have found in folk-song itself a wonderful source of inspiration—they go to it, as Antaeus went to the earth, to renew their strength.”75 Antaeus, that giant of Greek mythology, was invincible as long as he remained in contact with the earth; Gibbon’s artistic vision encouraged composers to remain grounded in their own traditions and “origins,” both geographical and ethnic, in order to renew their inspired, creative strength.76 As Gaea, the earth, was Antaeus’ mother, the folk traditions were viewed as the mother tongue from which a composer’s inspiration was derived. In the Canadian context, according to Gibbon, composers and musicians should find their strength by returning to the traditions of folksong, equated both metaphorically and literally with the province of Quebec, a land identified by Gibbon as a place of folksong, both geographical and virtual. To encourage this specific type of composition based on French-Canadian folksongs the CPR announced the E.W. Beatty Competition for Folksong Composition at the 1927 Quebec City Festival. Specified categories of “high-art” submissions were accepted, including orchestral suites, cantatas, suites for string quartets, and arrangements 75 Gibbon, “Introduction,” in Twenty-One Folk-Songs of French Canada, ed. Ernest MacMillan. Oakville, ON: The Frederick Harris Co. (1928): i. 76 Encyclopædia Britannica Online, s. v. "Antaeus," accessed August 17, 2014, http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/26917/Antaeus. A giant of Greek mythology, Antaeus, son of the sea (Poseidon), and the Earth (Gaea) challenged passers-by to wrestling matches, which he inevitably won since he could immediately regain his strength by simply touching the earth. Antaeus’ defeat came at the hand of Hercules, who killed Antaeus while holding him aloft, separated from his source of strength. 28 for male and mixed voices, respectively. The contest was open to Canadians and non- Canadians alike, and an international panel of judges was assembled to evaluate the entries, which included Eric De Lamarter (Chicago), Sir Hugh Allen (London), Achille Fortier (Montreal), Paul Vidal (Paris), and Ralph Vaughan Williams (London).77 The Governor General of Canada, Lord Willingdon, distributed the $3000 in prize money to composers of winning compositions, the majority of which were performed at the 1928 Folksong and Handicraft Festival in Quebec City. The contest was not renewed for the following year; as Slominska and McNaughton write, the judges received a disappointingly low amount of submissions, since “all the French-Canadian composers boycotted.”78 With the exception of Ernest MacMillan and Claude Champagne, many of the winning compositions were not the work of well-known artists. Recipients of the E.W. Beatty prizes (or honourary mentions) included George Bowles (twice), Irvin Cooper, Pierre Gautier, Arthur Cleland Lloyd, Maud Wyatt Pargeter, and Alfred Whitehead. Neither George Bowles’ orchestral suite (honourary mention) nor Irvin Cooper’s arrangement for mixed voices, both of which received $100 prizes, were performed at the festival.79 The grand prize of $1000 was awarded to Lloyd for his unnamed orchestral suite, and performed at the festival by the Orchestra of the 22nd Regiment (May 25).80 The instrumental work was based on themes collected from the 1865 Gagnon collection, via 77 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 4: General promotional program (May 24-28, 1928). 78 Slominska, “Interpreting Success and Failure,” 267. McNaughton, “Quebec Folk Song and Handicrafts Festivals,” 136. 79 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, General program (May 24-28, 1928). “Irvin Cooper — assistant lecturer in musical theory at McGill University Conservatorium.” “George Bowles — born in Quebec; has resided for 31 years in Winnipeg; organist St. Luke’s church and teacher of musical theory.” 80 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928). “Lloyd — born Vancouver, December 26th, 1908. Studied in Vancouver, in Chicago under Percy Grainger and in New York under Harold Bauer.” 29 Margaret Gascoigne’s arrangements in “Chansons of Old French Canada” (1920, CPR). The Hart House Quartet performed both winning string quartet submissions: George Bowles’ Suite for String Quartet ($500 prize) and Maud Wyatt Pargeter’s String Quartet on Canadian Themes ($100 special prize).81 The program did not indicate the provenance of any the folksongs used by either composer. Pierre Gautier’s ($100 honourary mention) arrangement of four chansons for male voices was performed in two instalments, first M’en vas à la fontaine/Wandering to the fountain, and Le bal chez Boulé/Boulé’s hop performed by the Bytown Troubadours (accompanied on piano, May 24). 82 The second portion, Je sais bien quelque chose/Something there is I know (Coll. Barbeau); Là-bas sur ces montagnes/ Out there on yonder mountains (Coll. Massicotte) was performed by the Chanteurs de Siant- Dominique accompanied on the organ (May 27).83 The Canadian Singers and the Montreal Quintette performed selections from Alfred Whitehead’s winning composition for mixed voices ($150) at the May 27 (Sunday) concert in 1928, which included A la Claire fontaine/At the clear running fountain and Gail on la, gai le rosier/ Gay la la, gay is the rose from Gagnon’s Chansons populaires du Canada (1865).84 81 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Thursday evening program (May 22, 1928); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Saturday matinee program (May 24, 1928). Hart House Quartet at the 1928 festival: Adaskin, Langley, Blackstone, Hambourg. See Appendix A. 82 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Thursday evening program (May 22, 1928). 83 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Monday matinee program (May 28, 1928). 84 At the time, Whitehead worked in Montreal as organist of Christ Church Cathedral and instructor at McGill University (Conservatorium); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Sunday matinee program (May 27, 1928). CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday evening program (May 27, 1928); Graham George and Kelly Rice, “Alfred Whitehead,” in Grove Music Online, accessed August 17, 2014. Whitehead (1887- 1974) studied at the University of Toronto and McGill. He was organist-choir director at St. Peter’s (Sherbrooke, 1915-1922), Christ Church Cathedral (Montreal, 1922-47), Trinity-St Stephen’s United Church (Amherst, NB, 1953-1971). Whitehead was head of music at Mount Allison University, NB from 1947-1953. 30 MacMillan’s arrangement of four chansons for male voices won an E.W. Beatty prize ($250) and was performed at the 1928 festival in two segments: by the Chanteurs de Saint-Dominique on May 24 (C’est la belle Françoise/The lovely Frances (Coll. Gagnon); Au cabaret (from Barbeau); Dans tous les cantons (Coll. Gagnon)) and by the “Male Quintet of Montreal” on May 27 (Blanches comme la neige/White as cometh the snowflake (Coll. Lorette Wyman).85 MacMillan had other compositions featured at the Quebec City festivals, including Sonata for cello and piano (performed by the Hart House Quartet in 1927), and Six Bergerettes du Bas-Canada (performed by The Canadian Singers in 1928).86 Dean of the Faculty of Music at the University of Toronto, MacMillan and his colleague Healey Willan have been called the “most influential voices in the music scene of anglophone Canada” during this period.87 Willan attended the 1928 festival, although there is no record of his participation the first year. 88 Keillor identifies Claude Champagne as the Francophone counterpart to Willan and MacMillan.89 However, as he was studying in Paris (1921-1928) his participation was limited to his E.W. Beatty 85 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Thursday evening program (May 24, 1928); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday evening program (May 27, 1928). Male Quintet comprised Paul Valade, Charles Dupuis, Charles Goulet, Gaston Monté and Léopold Fortin. 86 Keillor, Music in Canada, 177. MacMillan also traveled with Barbeau to Nass River in the summer of 1927 and participated in the filming of several ethnographic films (see Chapter 3). 87 John Beckwith, “Sir Ernest MacMillan,” in The Canadian Encyclopedia, August 19, 2010. (updated December 16, 2013). MacMillan (1893-1973) studied at the University of Edinburgh, Oxford University (1911) and University of Toronto (1911-1914). After studying in Paris (1914, with Thérèse Chaigneau) MacMillan was detained at Nuremberg and spent the rest of the war years as a prisoner at Ruhlebe. Upon his return to Canada in 1919, MacMillan worked as organist-choirmaster at Toronto’s Timothy Eaton Memorial Church (until 1925), and taught at Canadian Academy of Music from 1920 (later amalgamated with Toronto Conservatory of Music). MacMillan succeeded A.S. Vogt as principal in 1926 and became dean of Faculty of Music at University of Toronto in 1927. See also Keillor, Music in Canada, 179, 181. 88 Gilles Bryant and Thomas Brown, “Healey Willan,” in The Canadian Encyclopedia, April 7, 2010. (updated December 16, 2013). Willan (1880-1968) moved to Canada in 1913 and worked as organist- choirmaster at St. Mary Magdalene in Toronto from 1921. Willan worked at the Toronto Conservatory of Music and was involved with several other CPR Festivals, including the Scottish Highland Days at Banff, and his piano reduction of L’Ordre de bon-temps was performed at the Vancouver Sea Music Festival (January 23-26, 1929). See also Keillor, Music in Canada, 180. 89 Keillor, Music in Canada, 181. 31 contest submission. Champagne’s 1927 composition, Suite Canadienne (for choir and orchestra) was awarded the first prize for Cantatas ($750), although there is no record of it being performed at the festival.90 1.6 Concluding Remarks In a lengthy review of the 1927 CPR festival, Lawrence Mason, music and drama critic of The Globe (Toronto), identified three “stages of composition” which he believed embodied the process of transforming collected music (“raw materials”) to their potential as inspired concert repertoire. Mason’s review specifically offered examples of Indigenous music presented at the festival, but his inclusive model applied equally to French-Canadian folksongs. According to Mason, the first incarnation of folksong, or the “lowest stage of artistic invention,” was represented at the festival by the “primitive dances and ritual songs by Lorette Indians.” 91 Other examples of this “stage” would consist of the performances by the folksingers themselves who sang traditional melodies passed down through generations. The second stage identified by Mason was Gauthier’s presentation of the “weirdly thrilling chants,” sung in “long-drawn portamento recitative rather than any recognizable stanzaic structure.” (No mention was made of the fact that the performances being compared presented music from vastly separate parts of the country, and Gauthier was a classical singer, who vocalised as such.) The other professional performers would likewise fall into this category, as they too sang folksong that had been 90 Hélène Plouffe, “Claude Champagne,” in The Canadian Encyclopedia, June 10, 2008 (updated December 15, 2013); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928); Champagne (1891-1965) studied with Orpha Deveaux (piano) and Romain-Octave Pelletier (theory) and Albert Chamberland (violin) before leaving to study in Paris from 1921-1928. Champagne was later the director of Montreal’s Catholic School Commission (1934-1942) and taught at McGill University (1932-1941). See also Keillor, Music in Canada, 181. 91 Lawrence Mason, The Globe (Toronto, May 23, 1927). 32 collected, often in arrangements. These performances, while not yet considered classical, or concert repertoire, nonetheless were removed and altered from their original contexts. Finally, Mason wrote, the third “stage” would be realized when a “Canadian Dvorak” used the “beautiful sensitive melodies as themes for noble sonatas and symphonies.”92 The work of one composer, Alfred LaLiberté, was noted as having set an example with his arrangements for string quartet, performed by the Hart House Quartet on the Saturday concert at the 1927 festival.93 In addition to his “striking harmonizations of Eskimo melodies,” La Liberté provided folksong arrangements and accompaniment for several artists at the festivals.94 Gibbon spoke highly of La Liberté’s artistic skills as an arranger of folksong, writing that whereas other arrangements were better suited for “the western school ma’am,” La Liberté’s work required a “skilful piano or string quartet.”95 He had a good reputation among his peers, as Gibbon wrote to McInnes, the “musicians and musical critics of Montreal [were] unanimous about [La Liberté’s] position” as a “French-Canadian generally considered the outstanding composer of that race.”96 92 Mason, The Globe (Toronto, May 23, 1927). 93 ibid.; CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, General program (May 24-28, 1928). “Arrangements of Eskimo and Indian melodies” by La Liberté listed in the general program, but not in the Saturday program itself. 94 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 20-22, 1927); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928). Accompaniment and/or arrangements for McInnes (1927), Pierre Pelletier (1928), and Dusseau and Ralph Errolle (in duets, 1928); Gilles Potvin, “Alfred La Liberté,” in The Canadian Encyclopedia, February 7, 2006 (updated December 16, 2013). La Liberté (1882-1952) studied in Berlin at Stern Conservatory in 1902 (Paul Lutzenko- piano, Ernst Baeker- harmony, Wilhelm Klatte- counterpoint and composition). Upon his return to Canada, La Liberté taught at the Conservatoire National in Montreal. In 1907 La Liberté returned to Europe and studied with Scriabin in Brussels. At the time of the CPR festivals, La Liberté taught in Montreal at the Sisters of the Holy Names of Jesus and Mary (Ecole Vincent-d’Indy) from 1926-1935. Keillor, Music in Canada, 143, 181. He was associated with a small group of avant-garde musicians and supported Champagne’s travel and study to Europe in the 1920s 95 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon to McInnes (April 13, 1927). 96 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon to McInnes (April 13, 1927). Gibbon noted that “considering the jealousy that appears to exist among musicians, this unanimity was an unusual experience.” The second prize for cantatas ($250) was not awarded. 33 Barbeau, Gibbon and the “nationalist network” were primarily concerned with the nation’s socio-cultural development, of which a vibrant cultural life was thought to be a key indicator. As Sandra Dyck explains, “Canada’s political, economic and international maturation were not in question,” rather, it was the nation’s cultural development that was perceived as virtually nonexistent, or at best, far behind other Western nations.97 Though Gibbon’s “Canadian Mosaic” attempted to alleviate contemporary xenophobia through a model of society deemed inclusive, it nonetheless presented a strategic management of difference within the nation. The restrictive nature of “Canadian-ness” as outlined in the E.W. Beatty Competition demonstrates how Gibbon’s ideological agenda was disseminated into the musical sphere, although, as La Liberté’s work shows, the limits imposed during the contest did not exclusively dominate artistic sensibilities in Canada. Mason’s review of the 1927 festival, and that of the New York Times indicate, without differentiating between French-Canadian and Indigenous songs, the professional singers at the festival had demonstrated “the possibilities of Canadian folksongs for the concert platform.”98 All told, the efforts of Barbeau and Gibbon in connection with the CPR festivals at Quebec City aimed to create a cultural ethos in Canada that would reflect just that, its unique, idealized potential as a young nation, while alleviating contemporary concern, to quote Arthur Lismer, that “Canada was as yet unwritten, unpainted, unsung.”99 97 Dyck, “These Things Are Our Totems,” 6. 98 “Quebec to Show her Native Arts,” in The New York Times, May 15, 1927; “Quebec’s Unique Festival,” in The New York Times, March 26, 1927. 99 Lismer, as quoted in John Thompson and Allen Seager, Canada 1922-1939: Decades of Discord, Toronto: McClelland and Stewart (1985): 158. 34 Chapter Two: CPR Festivals as Exhibitions of Heritage Tourism 2.1 Heritage Introduction “Heritage tourism is intrinsically about life, existence, belonging and change – from the past into the present and future – it involves a performative act of appropriating, interpreting, and communicating aspects of the past through performance, storied texts, physical sites and material artefacts.”1 The CPR festivals are prime examples of what contemporary authors Tazim Jamal and Hyounggon Kim refer to as “heritage tourism” endeavours—events and spaces which rely on an “instrumental use of the past” to attract audiences.2 Laurajane Smith and Barbara Kirshenblatt-Gimblett have both theorized the process surrounding this “use of the past” as what they refer to as the creation of heritage, or heritage-production process. In her article, “Theorizing Heritage,” Kirshenblatt-Gimblett defines heritage as the re-evaluation of a given subject (object, idea, story), or the “transvaluation of the obsolete, the mistaken, the outmoded, the dead, and the defunct.”3 Kirshenblatt-Gimblett asserts heritage is created, rather than constituting a found entity, via a “process of exhibition,” be it as “knowledge, as performance, as museum display.”4 Smith elaborates on this concept in the introduction to her volume, Uses of Heritage, wherein heritage is described as a “process of engagement, an act of communication and an act of making meaning in and for the present.”5 Smith’s book is dedicated to an exploration of heritage thusly conceptualized, not “as a ‘thing,’ but as a cultural and social process,” which 1 Tazim Jamal and Hyounggon Kim, “Bridging the interdisciplinary divide: Towards an integrated framework for heritage tourism research,” Tourist Studies 5, no. 55 (2005): 58. 2 Jamal and Kim, “Bridging the interdisciplinary divide,” 58. 3 Kirshenblatt-Gimblett,“Theorizing Heritage,” 369. The article is a revised version of Kirshenblatt- Gimblett’s 1994 Charles Seeger Lecture at the annual meeting of the Society for Ethnomusicology and the American Folklore Society. 4 ibid., 369. 5 L. Smith, The Uses of Heritage, 1. 35 “engages with acts of remembering that work to create ways to understand and engage with the present.”6 The overarching framework for heritage-production (not necessarily confined to the tourist arena) as theorized by Kirshenblatt-Gimblett and Smith is how the idea of the past as a narrative is constructed and harnessed in the present. Jamal and Kim reiterate this notion of the negotiated relationship between past and present—as interwoven, yet distinct, entities of heritage discourse—in the case of heritage tourism: “The ‘past’ is the focus of [heritage tourism] but the politics of identity, representation and preservation that arise in the instrumental use of the past influence the physical, social-cultural and spiritual well-being of people and the sustainability of their cultural goods, places and environments (built and natural).”7 2.2 Performing Canadian (Music) History When Barbeau and Gibbon organized the Quebec City festivals, they encouraged a specific narrative of Canadian history, musical and otherwise, that was the product of their nationalist goals for Canadian composition. Unlike the previous year, the repertoire performed at the 1928 festival was limited exclusively to French-Canadian and French Renaissance music. The French-Canadian repertoire was believed to be the twentieth- century Canadian incarnation of French-European chansons populaires, and included pieces categorized as aubades, nocturnes, and bergerettes or pastourelles. Artsongs dating from the French Renaissance period were included on the program to illustrate the long history of French Canada song.8 Over the five-day 1928 festival, a series of four large-scale productions performed “stages in the history of song in Canada”; each featured a different costumed ensemble, 6 L. Smith, The Uses of Heritage, 2 & 44. 7 Jamal and Kim, “Bridging the interdisciplinary divide,” 58. 8 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928). 36 cast, and musical accompaniment.9 Since Gibbon and Barbeau claimed French music history for the extended lineage of Canadian song, the first piece was an arrangement of Adam de la Halle’s thirteenth-century Jeu de Robin et de Marion.10 The three ensuing productions, L’Ordre de bon-temps, Mme Repentigny et sa ‘Manufacture,’ and Les Forestiers et Voyageurs, were each set in Canada and incorporated “ballads and songs of each type and period.”11 Based on libretti commissioned from French-Canadian poet, journalist and critic, Louvigny de Montigny, and published in the 1928 volume Bouquet de Mélusine, Gibbon believed the pieces conveyed “the atmosphere of each period.”12 2.3 Jeu de Robin et de Marion The arrangement of Robin et Marion performed at the CPR festival was presented as an authentic representation of thirteenth-century French music, and the precursor to French-Canadian folksong. The arrangement performed at the festival was the work of Jean Beck, a medieval scholar at the University of Pennsylvania and Curtis Institute of Music who had a short-lived collaboration in 1917 with Barbeau over a collection of French-Canadian songs.13 Staff of the Metropolitan Opera in New York City assisted the festival performance; Wilfrid Pelletier, at that time associate director of the Met, conducted the Royal 22nd Regiment of Quebec City in Beck’s orchestration.14 Unlike 9 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program, (May 24-28, 1928). 10 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928). 11 J. Murray Gibbon, introduction to Le Bouquet de Mélusine, by Louvigny de Montigny (Montreal: Louis Carrier & Co., 1928) 8. 12 ibid., 8. Louvigny de Montigny’s (1876-1955) writings include Les boules de neige (1903), and La Langue française au Canada: son état actuel, étude canadienne (1916). Translator for the Canadian Senate from 1910-1955. 13 John Haines, “Marius Barbeau and Jean Beck on Transcribing French-Canadian Songs,” in ARSC Journal 30, no. 1 (Spring 1999) 1-5. The two men had different opinions concerning the transcription of recorded folksongs and the project was abandoned in 1917. Barbeau later published the three-volume collection Répertoire de la chanson folklorique francaise du Canada (Ottawa: Duhamel, 1962-). 14 Pelletier’s coworkers at the Metropolitan Opera in New York also provided the costumes and scenery. The production featured modernized French text by Paul Morin of Montreal, and a reconstructed score based on manuscript study done by Beck. 37 other productions at the festivals, costumes for Robin et Marion were also provided from the Met and Pelletier’s colleague, stage director Armando Agnini, designed the stage settings for the performance, based on sketches and directions from Beck.15 The festival cast was comprised of Canadian opera singers, many of whom had made careers either in Europe or the United States, including Cedia Brault (Marion), Genevieve Davis (Perronnelle), Ralph Errolle (Robin), Ulysse Paquin (Gautier), Pierre Pelletier (Baudon), and Rodolphe Plamondon (le chevalier/knight).16 At first glance the plot is simple: the shepherdess Marion is approached by a knight, refusing him because of her love for the peasant, Robin. After a second encounter, which includes a struggle between the knight and Robin, Marion is carried away. However, she escapes the knight, and the remainder of the play depicts Marion, Robin and their friends singing and dancing.17 De la Halle’s composition samples these stock characters of the literary pastourelle form. Robin et Marion relies structurally on a combination of two forms, the pastourelle classique and a sub-genre, called the bergerie.18 Each of these poetic genres were traditionally narrated by the knight; in the pastourelle classique he is an active participant, whose advances are either accepted or rejected by the shepherdess, whereas the bergerie relegates the knight to a passive observer of the shepherdess’ interactions with others.19 De la Halle’s Robin et Marion 15 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 23: letter from Gibbon (April 24, 1928). Wigs were provided from McKenna Costume Company of Toronto. 16 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Thursday evening program (May 24, 1928). 17 Adam de la Halle, Le Jeu de Robin et Marion, ed. Jean Duournet (Paris, 1989); Jean Beck, The Play of Robin and Marion: Mediaeval Folk Comedy Opera by the Trouvère Adam de la Halle, trans. J. Murray Gibbon, Boston: C.C. Birchard and Company, 1928. 18 Jennifer Saltzstein, “Refrains in the Jeu de Robin et Marion,” in Poetry, Knowledge and Community in Late Medieval France, ed. Rebecca Dixon and Finn E. Sinclair, Rochester, NY: D.S. Brewer (2008): 173-174. 19 Saltzstein, “Refrains in the Jeu de Robin et Marion,” 176. 38 follows this pattern of combined forms, however, the knight does not narrate the theatrical scenes. The programs of the 1928 CPR festival described the plot of Robin et Marion simply, as one based on the “‘pastourelle’ theme—that of a shepherdess, an importunate knight and a shepherd lover.”20 Contemporary scholarly interpretations have read the comedy as either upturning the social order, or performing “a desperate attempt to keep the world right-side up.”21 However, the rationale for including Robin et Marion in the CPR festival program ultimately relied on an understanding of the work’s musical aspects: “The thirteenth century comedy opera “Le Jeu de Robin et Marion” has been placed on the programme because it is built up out of contemporary folksongs some of which are still sung in France and may perhaps be found among the 6000 melodies at Ottawa when the 5000 which have still to be transcribed can be carefully examined.”22 Gibbon’s description of “the 6000 melodies” referred to the holdings of the National Museum, a significant portion of which had been collected by Barbeau. This call to research featured frequently in Gibbon’s writing on French-Canadian folksong, as he believed a musical “archaeologist” could trace a direct line from French-Canadian folksongs to celebrated French traditions. 23 Gibbon elaborated upon this perceived musical connection in his program notes: “Many of these chansons populaires take us back to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, while quite a number link us with still 20 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928). 21 See Jean Dufournet, “Complexité et ambiguité du Jeu de Robin et Marion. L’ouverture de la pièce et le portrait des paysans,” in Études de Philologie Romane et d’Histoire Littéraire, offertes à Jules Horent a l’occasion de son soixantième anniversaire, ed. Jean Marie d’Heur and Nicoletta Cherubini (Liège, 1980): 73-94. Kenneth Varty, “Le Mariage, la Courtoisie et l’Ironie comique dans le Jeu de Robin et Marion,” Marche Romane 30 (1980): 287-292. Stephanie Thompson Lundeen, “Dressing Down: Aristocratic Identity in Le Jeu de Robin et Marion,” in Essays in Medieval Studies 22 (2005): 67. 22 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: General program (May 24-28, 1928). 23 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Saturday evening program (May 21, 1927). 39 earlier periods.”24 A set of Renaissance music performed by Florence Glenn and The Music Maker Singers was introduced with the statement: “the field still open to the research of the musical antiquarian is unlimited.” Gibbon’s program notes acknowledged late-nineteenth-century French (nationalist) scholarship concerning de la Halle, and specifically Robin et Marion, when he referred to the work as “the first known comic opera.”25 Robin et Marion was iconic, having been identified as the first opéra-comique by François-Joseph Fétis in an 1827 Revue Musicale review, a designation Katharine Ellis infers was based upon an earlier survey of French poetry.26 The politicization and ideological adoption of Robin et Marion as the “beginning of French music” emerged with vigor following the Franco-Prussian war, and was arguably the result of a half-century’s interest in French folklore studies.27 The translation of Johann Herder’s work from German to French in 1827-28 introduced the idea of “the Folk” and corresponding traditions as integral to national unity.28 This Romantic view of a nation’s “Folk” spurred the collection and research of folktales and popular songs, which were largely believed to be inseparable from the accompanying text.29 “Popular” poetry or music (chansons populaires) were considered to have either developed spontaneously from the masses or belong to a known artist the people had adopted for their own: “belonging to or emanating from the people.”30 As 24 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, General program (May 24-28, 1928). 25 J. Murray Gibbon, translator’s forward to The Play of Robin and Marion: Mediaeval Folk Comedy Opera by the Trouvère Adam de la Halle, by Jean Beck (Montreal: Louis Carrier & Co., 1928) iv; CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Thursday evening program (May 24, 1928). 26 Ellis, Interpreting the Musical Past, 165; Jean Baptiste Bonaventure de Roquefort, De l’état de la poésie françoise dans les XIIe et XIIIe siècles, (Paris: Fournier, 1814/5). 27 Alden, Songs, Scribes, and Society, 2010; Ellis, Interpreting the Musical Past, 2005. 28 Johann G. Herder, Idées sur la philosophie de l’histoire de l’humanité, transl. Edgar Quinet, Paris: F.- G. Levrault, 1827-28. 29 Alden, Songs, Scribes, and Society, 16. 30 ibid., 14 & 20. 40 Alden writes, the “interest was there, but the systematic and scientific apparatus wasn’t yet;” she attributes the delay of continuous and consistent study of national literature and songs to the political instability of France’s nineteenth century.31 Short-lived initiatives included an imperial decree (1852) that urged the collection and publication of “all French popular poetry” as a means of unifying the provinces in “collective national pride,” by the power of “ancient songs.”32 Gibbon’s view of Robin et Marion as a collection of folksong was based on scholarship dating from the late-nineteenth century, when, within the context of identifying a secularized musical history apart from Germany and uniquely French musical qualities, musicologists identified Adam de la Halle as compatible with the “post-Revolutionary ethos” at the beginning of the Third Republic (1872).33 In his 1872 edition of the complete works of de la Halle, Edmond de Coussemaker identified Robin et Marion specifically as having a “natural, easy and tuneful,” manner, reminiscent of the “spontaneous inspiration, characteristic of popular song.”34 Fétis had written much the same in his 1827 article when he praised the work’s separation from psalmody, and its metrical regularity.35 Robin et Marion, Alden writes, was “heralded as the emblem of a pure, natural, French heritage that belonged properly to the people.”36 Musically a departure from de la Halle’s polyphonic compositions, shunned in the post-revolutionary period for their “artistic” nature and obeisance to convention, the “popular” nature of Robin et Marion was celebrated for its distinct, and “inspired” nature. Julien Tiersot, who 31 ibid., 17. 32 ibid., 18. 33 Alden, Songs, Scribes, and Society, 47. 34 Adam de la Halle, Oeuvres complètes du trouvère Adam de la Halle, poesies et musique, ed. Edmond de Coussemaker (Paris, 1872); Alden, Songs, Scribes, and Society, 47. 35 Ellis, Interpreting the Musical Past, 165. 36 Alden, Songs, Scribes, and Society, 47. 41 orchestrated Robin et Marion for the 1896 commemoration of de la Halle’s death at Arras, conceptualized the piece as a monument for the popular “spirit” of the French people, an anthology of French medieval music, and infinitely more valuable than the work of a single composer.37 No doubt Beck’s status, described by Gibbon as the “foremost mediaeval scholar” and “greatest living authority on troubadour music,” lent a great deal of credence to the CPR performance.38 Program notes and Gibbon’s forward to the piano reduction reflected a similar attitude to the “salvage paradigm” of folksong collection; Robin et Marion had been “left on the shelves except for the production with modernized text and accompaniments at Arras in 1896.”39 The implication here being that this “modernized” production of Arras was inauthentic, and failed to accurately present de la Halle’s work, in a way that Beck had succeeded, thanks to his expert status. In his forward to the piano reduction, Beck provided an explanation for many of his arranging and orchestrating decisions, specifically writing that he did not want his arrangement to be “harmonized to conform to…modern practice,” as had previous efforts to “anachronistic” results. 40 Beck’s description of the Tiersot and Weckerlin arrangements was quite dismissive: the “thirteenth century songs lost all their original flavor and sounded like so many nineteenth century ditties.”41 Ellis provides a similar assessment of these arrangements; Weckerlin’s arrangement took liberties with the 37 Alden, Songs, Scribes, and Society, 47. 38 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. Box 347 F 4: Promotional program (May 24-28, 1928). 39 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Thursday evening program (May 24, 1928). 40 Jean Beck, introduction to The Play of Robin and Marion: Mediaeval Folk Comedy Opera by the Trouvère Adam de la Halle, trans. J. Murray Gibbon (Boston: C.C. Birchard and Company, 1928): i. 41 Beck, The Play of Robin and Marion, 1928. 42 original medieval manuscripts, and Tiersot’s attempt modified the piece to the style of a through-composed opera, changing the nature of the musical style completely.42 Beck had a manuscript copy in his own collection of the first song of Robin et Marion, “Robin m’aime, Robin m’a,” which he believed to have been arranged for three voices by de la Halle himself; this “authentic thirteenth century harmonization” served as a “model for [Beck’s] restoration.”43 Beck defended his decision to produce a fully orchestrated arrangement by citing a list of thirteenth century musical instruments he had compiled numbering “well beyond the hundred mark.”44 The introduction to the piano reduction also indicated Beck “adopted a more familiar spelling, without destroying the archaic flavor of Old French,” produced after revising several editions of Robin et Marion for the arrangement.45 The CPR Festival production of Robin et Marion was consistently referred to as a “13th century opéra comique, or comedy opera,” an acceptance of the neologistic (retroactive) naming of the piece by French scholars. This theatrical version of de la Halle’s text performed the static model of French peasant culture, interpreted at the CPR festivals as the forefathers of French-Canada, and conceptualized as Canada’s “Folk.” French-Canadian folksongs as a whole were presented as the descendants of this earlier European tradition, and the conceptualization of Robin et Marion as “built up out of 42 Ellis, Interpreting the Musical Past, 167 & 169. Several earlier performances took place at the Moskova society concert on June 3, 1846 of the opening song “Robin m’aime, Robin m’a,” and a complete version with piano accompaniment (by Weckerlin) at the Comédie-Française (January 27, 1872). 43 Beck, introduction to The Play of Robin and Marion, ii. 44 Beck, introduction to The Play of Robin and Marion, iii. 45 ibid., iii. 43 contemporary folksongs,” was reiterated throughout the CPR concert and promotional literature, providing Canada with a lengthy musical history.46 2.4 Three de Montigny Scenarios Chronologically, the next production was de Montigny’s L’Ordre de bon-temps. Set in 1606 at the French settlement of Port Royal, L’Ordre de bon-temps performed what was viewed as the foundational moment not only in the colonization of Canada, but in the history of Western musical traditions in Canada as well; the piece functioned as the Canadian equivalent of Robin et Marion. De Montigny based L’Ordre de bon-temps on written records dating from the settlement of New France, specifically those of Samuel de Champlain and Marc Lescarbot. Both men record the establishment of “L’Ordre de bon-temps,” a “dining and merriment society” designed to raise the spirits and improve the health of the population of Port Royal by providing good food and entertainment.47 Toronto composer Healey Willan orchestrated collected songs from France and Canada to animate the dramatization of the settlement of New France for an ensemble of five, and the composition itself served as an example for the Canadian school of classical music.48 The cast of the 1928 production included Plamondon (Lescarbot), Ulysse Paquin (Champlain), Léon Rothier (Biencourt) and Marchand (de Boullet).49 An arrangement for voice and piano was published in 1929 and included English lyrics translated by Gibbon, 46 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, General program (May 24-28, 1928); Saltzstein, “Refrains in the Jeu de Robin et Marion,” 175. Jennifer Saltzstein’s examination of refrains within Le Jeu identifies over a dozen citations in de la Halle’s work including four that have “extant concordances in a variety of musical and poetic sources.” 47 Louvigny de Montigny, “Ordre de bon-temps,” in Le Bouquet de Mélusine, Montreal & New York, Louis Carrier & CIE, Les Editions du Mercure (1928): 11-46. 48 According to the program, Willan orchestrated the piece for harpsichord, violin, cello, oboe, flute. Piano reduction: Healey Willan, L’Ordre de Bon-Temps (The Order of Good Cheer), libretto by Louvigny de Montigny, transl. J. Murray Gibbon, Oakville, ON: Frederick Harris, 1928. 49 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Thursday evening program (May 24, 1928). 44 as well as three additional songs not listed in either the CPR program or Le Bouquet de Mélusine: “Good folk, good folk! (Tune of Lourdault, lourdault!); Gentils galants Compaignons/Brave Gentlemen; and Trois Dances Indigènes/Three Indian Dances.”50 That same year Gibbon produced what he called a “reconstruction” of Ordre de bon- temps, which included the three additional songs, a translated English text, and not a small amount of rearrangement of the original text. Madame de Repentigny et sa ‘Manufacture,’ set in 1705, told the story of Agathe le Gardeur de Repentigny, a well-known “resourceful French gentlewoman,” of Montreal who, according to Gibbon’s synopsis in the promotional literature, “was responsible for the revival of the handicraft of homespun.”51 The action of the play begins after British forces captured the French ship, “La Seine,” en route to New France with a cargo that included cloth, which inspired Mme de Repentigny to organize the manufacture of fabrics locally, using a variety of alternative textiles. 52 There is no mention of orchestration or arrangement for Madame de Repentigny, however, the festival program does indicate the title and name of each song incorporated into the production. The majority of folksongs were excerpted from the Barbeau collection, and it seems the only accompaniment was diagetic, as the character list identifies “un violon/a violinist.”53 De Montigny based the action of Les Forestiers et Voyageurs on a set of memoirs published by Joseph-Charles Taché in Soirées Canadiennes, a nineteenth-century Quebec journal; the piece depicted the “departure of the old voyageurs for the Western posts” in 50 Healey Willan, L’Ordre de Bon-Temps (The Order of Good Cheer), libretto by Louvigny de Montigny, transl. J. Murray Gibbon, Oakville, ON: Frederick Harris, 1928. 51 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. Box 347 F 4: Promotional program (May 24-28, 1928). 52 Louvigny de Montigny, “Madame de Repentigny et sa ‘Manufacture,’” in Le Bouquet de Mélusine, Montreal & New York: Louis Carrier & CIE, Les Éditions du Mercure (1928): 47-85. CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. Box 347 F 4: Promotional program (May 24-28, 1928). H.H. Dodwell, ed. “British India, 1497-1858,” The Cambridge History of the British Empire, Vol. IV (1929): 67. 53 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Saturday evening program (May 26, 1928). 45 1810 along the Ottawa River, at Ste. Anne de Bellevue.54 Ulysse Paquin, Louis Bédard, and the four members of Les Troubadours de Bytown/The Bytown Troubadours were featured in the main roles of the production. Les Chanteurs de Saint-Dominique participated as chorus members and Charles Marchand directed the production. The programme described folksongs included in Les Forestiers in accordance with their function, for example as “Camp songs,” “Rowing Songs” or a “Song of Departure,” to name a few. These songs, supplied from the personal collections of Barbeau, Massicotte, Gagnon, Arsenault, and Marchand, were orchestrated by Oscar O’Brien and performed by the Orchestra of the 22nd Regiment.55 While the festival literature billed the de Montigny productions as demonstrating the history of song in Canada, when taken as a whole, the group (including Gibbon’s translations) presented a societal narrative of Canadian history compatible with The Canadian Mosaic and overall nationalist goals of the Anglophone majority. From the settlement of “Canada” depicted in L’Ordre de bon-temps, through the resilience of French-Canadian settlers in the 1700s, to the idealized portrayal of voyageurs in Forestiers et Voyageurs, these productions articulated what would become a long- standing image of Canadian identity, to quote Mackey, one expressed “in racialized terms as white settler identity.”56 54 Louvigny de Montigny, “Forestiers et Voyageurs,” in Le Bouquet de Mélusine, Louis Carrier & CIE, Les Editions du Mercure. Montreal & New York (1928): 87-112; CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Saturday evening program (May 26, 1928); Bytown Troubadours: Charles Marchand, Fortunat Champagne, Emile Boucher & Miville Belleau. 55 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Saturday evening program (May 26, 1928). 56 Eva Mackey, “Becoming Indigenous: Land, Belonging, and the Appropriation of Aboriginality in Canadian Nationalist Narratives,” Social Analysis 42, no. 2 (July 1998): 151. As Mackey writes: “Since the formation of the Dominion of Canada in 1867 images of nature, the wilderness, and the north have defined Canadian national identity.” 46 It was Gibbon’s English “reconstruction” (“The Order of Good Cheer”) that was performed at later CPR festivals; this settlement story that had a greater impact compared to de Montigny’s initial French text.57 To call Gibbon’s work a translation would be an overstatement; while he kept the setting, characters, general premise and certain portions of de Montigny’s original libretto, the overall focus of each production varied significantly. The most significant alteration to the text concerned the character of Membertou, “Grand Chief of the Souriquois.”58 Based on the historical person known to the settlers of Port Royal as Henri Membertou, this character Membertou, and two of his sons, Membertouchis and Actaudinech, were listed in de Montigny’s dramatis personae along with the other supplementary characters.59 However, in Gibbon’s text, the two categories of “Gentlemen” and “Indians” were clearly differentiated, and Gibbon added an additional character, Membertouis, the granddaughter of the chief, or “Indian Princess” whose presence features heavily in the last few pages of the “reconstruction.” Gibbon’s revision of the play transforms the character of Membertou from a passive observer to a committed ally, accepted in Port Royal society. In contrast, de Montigny’s text portrays Membertou and his family members in a manner representative of the literary trend and clichéd “noble savage” familiar by the 1830s, described by Carole Gerson as “a figure constructed by Eurocentric notions of cultural value: visible as a generalization but usually invisible as an individual human being.”60 Gibbon’s text rewrites the character of Membertou to one that suits a nationalist narrative compatible 57 Including the Vancouver Sea Music Festival. CP Archives: CP Bulletin 240, Section 53, Montreal (January 1, 1929). 58 Present-day Mi’kmaw Nation. See Mi’kmaw Resource Guide, ed. Tim Bernard, Rosalie Francis, Spencer Wilmot, Truro, NS: Eastern Woodland Publishing, accessed August 17, 2014. http://www.cmmns.com/publications/MIKMAWRGWeb.pdf. 59 de Montigny, “Ordre de bon-temps,” 13. 60 Carole Gerson, “Nobler Savages,” Representations of Native Women in the Writings of Susanna Moodie and Catharine Parr Traill,” Journal of Canadian Studies 32, no. 3 (Été 1997 Summer): 7. 47 with the mosaic; as Eva Mackey writes, “representations of Indigenous peoples and their cultural heritage are used to bolster settler nationalist mythology.”61 In the instance of Gibbon’s Order of Good Cheer, the emphasis on cooperation between Membertou and the gentlemen of Port Royal serves to present an idealized version of the settlement of Canada which, to quote Mackey again, erases the more “complex, brutal and difficult history of dispossession, erasure and cultural genocide.”62 Gibbon presents the French and Indigenous characters as allies, or as Mackey writes, “helpmates in the project of progressive nation building.”63 The lines Gibbon wrote for Membertou are significant; he states Membertou’s allegiance to the French in the character’s first line of dialogue: “Goddam pigtails [of Englishmen] make good scalps for wigwams.”64 The noblemen respond positively to this sentiment, calling him a “noble red man,” and invest Membertou (not Poutrincourt, as in de Montigny’s text) with the title of “High Steward,” or Architricline of the Order of Good Cheer.65 Onstage a ceremony ensues, similar to that of de Montigny’s text, wherein Membertou (instead of Poutrincourt) kneels and is inducted as Architricline of the “Order of Good Cheer,” swearing allegiance to the King of France, and agreeing to ensure Port Royal is provided with food.66 The performance of New France, as imagined by Gibbon, highlights a linear Canadian narrative that begins with “Native peoples in harmony with the land,” and ends with echoes of Gibbon’s mosaic, in a vision of the “Canadian race of the future.” 61 Mackey, “Becoming Indigenous,” 152. 62 ibid., 158. 63 ibid., 161-162. 64 Gibbon, The Order of Good Cheer, 20. 65 ibid., 20; de Montigny, “L’Ordre de bon-temps,” 43. 66 Gibbon, The Order of Good Cheer, 26. 48 Building on the work of Bruce Willems-Braun, Eva Mackey asserts: “inclusive and celebratory images of diversity may reproduce, in subtle ways, not only particular forms of white settler national identity, but also key Western concepts such as progress. They can include Native people and Aboriginal imagery, while at the same time drawing on “buried epistemologies” (Willems-Braun 1997) that reinforce the very Western views of nature and human/nature relations that justified the destruction of Native people.”67 Initially, Gibbon’s rewriting of L’Ordre de bon-temps to provide Membertou with more dialogue may seem productive, however, the “buried espistemologies” imbedded in this edited text facilitate an equally, if not more, problematic characterization of the same character who remains almost completely silent in de Montigny’s text. As Willems-Braun writes, it is “how [Indigenous people] are made present” which matters a great deal.68 Indigenous characters are conspicuously absent in Madame de Repentigny and Les Forestiers et Voyageurs. In the case of Les Forestiers this erasure is marked; the fur trade relied heavily on Indigenous populations (including a significant Métis presence) however, Les Forestiers depicts only the Romanticized image of French-Canadians preparing for their voyage. These large productions demonstrate what Jamal and Kim refer to as the politicized and “instrumental use of the past,” in terms of heritage tourism, that is both the result of, and has repercussions for, concepts of “identity, representation and preservation.”69 The idyllic perspective of Canada’s history is only one of the key elements of Gibbon’s modifications to L’Ordre de bon-temps, the second being the addition of the character Membertouis. 67 Mackey, “Becoming Indiginous,”152. 68 Bruce Willems-Braun, “Buried Epistemologies: The Politics of Nature in (Post)colonial British Columbia” in Annals of the Association of American Geographers 87, no. 1 (1997): 27. 69 Jamal and Kim, “Bridging the interdisciplinary divide,” 58. 49 According to Gibbon’s The Order of Good Cheer, the man designated the next Architricline was responsible to provide a special dessert. In the play, shortly after Membertou declares his allegiance to France he is asked to sing for the group and tell what he brought for the dessert course. While Membertou declines to comment on the dessert he has brought (since there is still so much food to be eaten), Lescarbot describes the dessert course as one that would “heat the brain and kindle the imagination” in an unprecedented manner.70 Clearly this is no ordinary dessert. Several pages of dialogue and three songs later, Membertou and his entourage leave the room, only to return again upon the following announcement by Lescarbot: “Now is the appointed entrance of dessert. Our friend and ally hath an offering for us of some savage confection of delectable sweetmeats constructed in an ingenious frame of pastry. This, according to our rule, shall be brought in with particular ceremony, which in this case will be according to Indian rite, it being the fashion of the Souriquois… to partake themselves to dancing with concordance of music… followed by an oration of three or four hours’ duration which, God helping, we shall find means to cut short.”71 The placement of this “ingenious frame of pastry” on the table coincides with the performance of “the first Indian song,” accompanied by dancing. Membertou is then knighted into the Order of Good Cheer, and the company sings Vive Henri Quatre. Membertouis, invented and described by Gibbon as a “pretty little Indian Princess,” emerges from the pastry, and is lifted to the ground by her grandfather amidst “murmurs of delight from the Frenchmen.” 72 Poutrincourt subsequently exclaims she is “so excellent rare a sweetmeat” one could not find in France, and Membertouis dances a “butterfly dance” for the Frenchmen.73 70 Gibbon, The Order of Good Cheer, 20-21. The exact dialogue reads: “Membertou sees much food. Food not finished. Later on Membertou sing.” 71 Gibbon, The Order of Good Cheer, 27. 72 ibid., 29. 73 ibid., 27. 50 Contemporary authors have used the term “patriarchal colonialism” to describe the resulting disadvantaged status of Indigenous women in North America due to the imposition of traditional Eurocentric social structures.74 As both female, and non-White, Indigenous women were (and are, as other women of colour) subject to discrimination on the dual bases of sexism and racism. 75 Relying on feminist and Native womanist critiques, Mariannette Jaimes-Guerrero has made a compelling study of media representations of Indigenous women in North America (film and early-twentieth-century literature). The overwhelming majority of these trend towards what Jaimes-Guerrero idenfies as “erotica exotica,” a wide-ranging category that encompasses sexualized and racialized tropes such as “pagan nymphomaniac,” “Cherokee princess,” or “Indian squaw.”76 The resulting representations perform Indigenous women as either “erotic, exotic objects of lust or mere backdrop—if they are not altogether invisible. They are consequently never seen as fully complex human beings…”77 Gibbon’s reconstruction of L’Ordre de bon-temps presents the added character of Membertouis in a manner that is representative of what Jaimes-Guerrero identifies as the long-standing trope of the “chaste persona of a romanticized princess.”78 Membertouis is provided no dialogue by Gibbon, removing any agency she might possess. Through his editing, Gibbon rewrites L’Ordre de bon-temps to present Indigenous women as visible 74 M. Adelaine Jaimes-Guerrero, “Savage Erotica Exotica: Media Imagery of Native Women in North America,” in Native North America, ed. Renée Hulan, Toronto: ECW Press (1999): 187-210; M.A. Jaimes*Guerrero, “‘Patriarchal Colonialism’ and Indigenism: Implications for Native Feminist Spirituality and Native Womanism,” in Indigenous Women in the Americas. Special issue of Hypatia 18, No. 2. (Spring 2003): 58-69. 75 Jaimes-Guerrero, “Savage Erotica Exotica,” 187. 76 ibid., 187. 77 ibid., 195. 78 ibid., 188. 51 for function of exotic, erotic entertainment, in this case, for the gaze of the Europeans from the very settlement of New France. In addition to the problematic portrayal of Indigenous characters, the texts (and repertoire) of L’Ordre de bon-temps and Madame de Repentigny depict classist distinctions within “Canadian” settler society. In all three versions of L’Ordre de bon- temps the character of Champlain sang the French European music excerpted from J.B. Weckerlin’s collected works (Le Roi Anglais; Ma belle, si ton âme).79 Other characters, played by Léon Rothier and Rodolphe Plamondon sang the “Canadian” songs, from the collections of Barbeau and the National Museum.80 The added songs of the piano reduction and Gibbon’s “reconstruction” were from unnamed “sources contemporary with the period of the play,” while the music of the “three Indian dances” was based on solfège notation in Lescarbot’s writings.81 While in both de Montigny’s libretto and Gibbon’s text the three main characters, Champlain, Poutrincourt and Lescarbot, are provided more dialogue than the minor characters, in Gibbon’s redrafted text these three are prone to half-page monologues, as opposed to de Montigny’s scenario, which reads more as a dialogue. This was largely due to the fact that while de Montigny’s libretto provides ample information concerning the “dining” portion of the society, devoting a seven-page section of his text to one minor character after another bringing gourmet dishes to the communal table, Gibbon’s version begins with the table already set, apart from the dessert course, and replaces the 79 de Montigny, “L’Ordre de bon-temps,” 1928; Willan, L’Ordre de Bon-Temps (The Order of Good Cheer) 1928; Gibbon, The Order of Good Cheer, 1929. From Weckerlin’s La chanson populaire (1886) and Echoes du temps passé (~1885). 80 Gibbon, The Order of Good Cheer, 1929. From the Barbeau collection: When we were sailing from Toulon; The Prince Eugene; The Prince of Orange; Three Young Gallants Were We; The Fatal Straw. 81 Gibbon, The Order of Good Cheer, J.M. Dent & Sons, Ltd., (1929): 30. Lescarbot did not include rhythmic notations. 52 announcing of the dishes with one song that lists a great variety of food items (Good folk, Good folk!).82 Mirroring the distinctions made between French-Canadian and French (European) repertoire at the festival, these classist attitudes extend to the performers themselves within the structure and action of Madame de Repentigny. De Montigny’s list of characters was printed in the program so that audiences could familiarize themselves with the personages of the play. Under the headings of “Comparses et choristes: tisseuses, cardeuses, fileuses,” (Minor roles and chorus: weavers, carders, spinners”) and “foulons” (fullers) are the names not of characters, and the actors who played the role, but festival crafts-workers and folksingers: “Philéas Bedard, Jos. Rousselle, J.A. Lavallee, Alphonse Plante, Mme Leblond and her four daughters, Mme Simon and her 2 daughters, Mme Lachance, Mme Plante, and Mme Bouchard.”83 In comparison, both the names of the characters of Mme de Repentigny, and her three “gentlewomen” companions, and the actresses who held the roles, including Jeanne Dusseau and Genevieve Davis, were listed in the CPR program. The crafts-workers and singers were written directly into the play, viewed as members of “the Folk,” they were themselves considered static characters, in contrast to the professional performers who merely adopted this role for the duration of the performance, the Mmes Leblond, Simon, Lachance, Plante, Bouchard, and their respective unnamed daughters were equated with the roles they played in the production. When de Montigny’s libretti were published in Bouquet de Mélusine, since, as Gibbon 82 Gibbon, The Order of Good Cheer. Montreal: J.M. Dent & Sons (1929): 9; de Montigny, “L’Ordre de bon-temps” in Bouquet de Mélusine, Montreal & New York: Louis Carrier & CIE, Les Éditions du Mercure (1928): 11-46. 83 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Thursday evening program (May 24, 1928). 53 wrote in the forward, the works reflected “with such brilliance the life of the people,” the same list of characters was reproduced.84 The dialogue of Madame de Repentigny further demonstrated the ideological divide of the author, as the bulk of the speaking and singing in this production went to the two professional artists who played Mme de Repentigny, and Mme Lambert-Dumont. When the supporting characters were required to speak, de Montigny’s text referred instead to their material function at the workshop: “La Peigneuse,” “Une Autre Peigneuse,” or “Une Cardeuse” (“The comber,” “Another comber,” or “A carder”).85 On several occasions de Montigny simply wrote “Des Voix,” (“Voices”), relegating the talented crafts-workers and folksingers to the status of non-specific French-Canadian peasants. The entirety of Les Forestiers et Voyageurs portrayed a Romanticized view of voyageur life. Gibbon believed the voyageurs played a crucial role in disseminating Canadian chansons populaires, or as he wrote, “carrying…the lilting verse of Old France along the water ways and through the vast forests in the New World.”86 So prolific was the singing that according to Gibbon, this “touch of romance” was “referred to in almost every narrative of those who travelled by canoe through the interior of Canada.”87 The musical selections incorporated into the action consisted solely of collected folksongs. 84 de Montigny, “Madame de Repentigny,” 49. 85 ibid., 62-63. Peigneuse/Comber- Cardeuse/Carder- one who combs/cards wool by hand, or operates machinery that fulfills the same function. The term can also be used to refer to the machine itself. 86 Gibbon, “Introduction,” in Le Bouquet de Mélusine, 8. 87 ibid., 8. 54 2.5 Tourism, Authenticity and Expert Opinions The presentation of the ideal narrative of Canadian identity was not limited to the large-scale productions, or to the 1928 festival. Additional musical performances, and (non-musical) organizational factors at both Quebec City festivals presented this imagined version of Canadian history. Within the structure of the CPR festivals different understandings of authenticity were implied, largely defined by Barbeau and other experts of the National Museum, and expressed in the treatment of both the participants and music of the CPR festivals. Gibbon was hired in 1907 to work as the European Publicity Agent for the CPR; based in London he oversaw all European propaganda and promotional materials until his promotion in 1913 to Chief Publicity Agent and subsequent relocation to Montreal.88 Prior to their collaboration at the CPR festivals, Barbeau and Gibbon had previously engaged in work that encouraged Canadian folklore, although their professions had a large impact as to the manner they went about this work. As Janet McNaughton has identified, the professional interactions of Gibbon and Barbeau followed a pattern: Barbeau the academic, was largely unconcerned with public opinion as he went about his work, whereas Gibbon, the publicity agent of one of Canada’s largest corporations, was completely dependent on public opinion, and often modified his work to appeal to the broadest audience possible.89 The publication of Indian Days in the Canadian Rockies, a promotional booklet for the CPR with text written by Barbeau, provides an excellent example of the compromises. 88 Kines, Chief-Man-Of-Many-Sides, 30. 89 McNaughton, “Quebec Folk Song and Handicraft Festivals,” 52. 55 Barbeau’s initial draft included a chapter called “Medicine-Man,” in which he intended to describe a “contest between one of the native sorcerers and a Protestant missionary.”90 However, Gibbon recommended the section be omitted from the final product as it was “too controversial” and he believed it had the potential to cause “great offense to missions in the Kootenays.”91 Intended to “have a popular appeal,” the book’s title referenced the annual Banff weeklong festival (est. by 1900) called “Indian Days.” Organized initially to entertain tourists stranded at the CPR Banff Springs Hotel after a washed-out road, this festival tradition continued for decades longer than the 1927-1931 series of Folksong and Handicraft festivals.92 Rosabelle Boswell work on heritage tourism and identity demonstrates the possibility that “narrowly conceived” understandings can “essentialise… identity and history,” resulting in the unfortunate “packaging of identities for tourist consumption.”93 In the case of the CPR festivals, these convenient identities were tied up with notions of authenticity, as determined by Barbeau and his museum colleagues. The ensuing discussion features several themes, namely the tourism dynamics of place and performance (both geographical and virtual/ephemeral), Indigenous-settler relations and notions of authentic cultural interpretations and representations. 90 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 19: handwritten outline for the manuscript. 91 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 19: letter to Eayres from Gibbon (May 1, 1923); CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 19: letter to Barbeau (May 3, 1923). 92 While officially sponsored by the CPR, the recurring “Indian Days” were organized by local businessmen Norman Luxton, Jim Brewster, Sam Armstrong and Tom Wilson. The annual event was discontinued in the 1970s, and restored under the name Tribal Days under the management of the Buffalo Nations Cultural Society next to the Stoney reserve at Morley. See Courtney Mason, “The Construction of Banff as a “Natural” Environment: Sporting Festivals, Tourism and Representations of Aboriginal Peoples,” Journal of Sport History 35, No. 2 (Summer 2008): 221-239. See also http://www.tripadvisor.ca/Travel-g154911-s202/Banff:Alberta:Culture.html. 93 Rosabelle Boswell, “Heritage tourism and identity in the Mauritian villages of Charmarel and Le Morne,” in Journal of South African Studies 31, no. 2 (June 2005): 283 & 288. Boswell writes: “heritage preservation, narrowly conceived, may actually undermine nation-building processes and essentialise Creole identity and history, however, unless the diversity of Creole experience is represented in a broad- based approach to heritage preservation and management” 56 Convinced as they were of the imminent disappearance of the cultures they studied, Barbeau and his colleagues adhered to the paradigm later referred to by James Clifford as “salvage ethnography.” Described as the impulse to collect, or rather, to “save” the “authentic” remains of a culture before they disappear for good, this model is replete with problematic assumptions, first and foremost being the imposition of Western values to determine what, if anything, from a community ought to be documented, transcribed, or otherwise “salvaged.”94 As a professional expert, Barbeau (allegedly) was able to determine what was and was not “authentic” culture, even more so than his informants, whom he viewed as contemporary, albeit “inauthentic” members of the culture in question.95 Over the course of his career, Barbeau conducted ethnographic fieldwork at both French-Canadian communities in rural Quebec and Indigenous communities in North West British Columbia and Quebec. 96 Each was viewed as something of the past, which no longer existed in an “authentic” form apart from small isolated enclaves. The “authentic” model of French-Canadian culture presented at the CPR festivals was evident years earlier when Barbeau and Gibbon collaborated on the publication of Chansons of Old French Canada, by Margaret Gascoigne. Published by the CPR in 1920 and available for purchase at the Chateau Frontenac, the volume featured selected songs from Ernest Gagnon’s collection, Chansons populaires du Canada (1865) arranged for 94 See James Clifford, “The others: Beyond the ‘salvage’ paradigm,” in Third Text 3, no. 6 (1989). 95 Andrew Nurse, “Tradition and Modernity: The Cultural Work of Marius Barbeau,” PhD diss. Kingston, ON: Queen’s University (1997): 331. Andrew Nurse, “"Their Ancient Customs are Gone": Anthropology as Cultural Process,” in Around and about Marius Barbeau: Modelling twentieth-century culture, Ed. Lynda Jessup, Andrew Nurse, Gordon Smith, Gatineau, QC: Canadian Museum of Civilization (2008): 15. 96 Marielle Aylen, “Urgency of Myth: Marius Barbeau, Tori Smith, and the Narrations of Nation,” in Around and about Marius Barbeau: Modelling twentieth-century culture, Ed. Lynda Jessup, Andrew Nurse, Gordon Smith, Gatineau, QC: Canadian Museum of Civilization (2008): 241. 57 voice and piano.97 In his preface for this souvenir volume, Barbeau described French- Canada as a “quaint oasis,” in the “desert of American uniformity,” where “industrialism and cupidity have not yet withered all local colour and individual bias or charm,”98 Illustrations by Canadian Ethel Smeath provided buyers with vignettes of French Renaissance life, including ladies dressed in laced bodices, and men with swords in doublets and capes, to emphasize the connection between Canada and Europe.99 This was the model of French-Canadian culture emphasized at the festivals; a European inheritance, quaint and simple, untouched by modernity, and entirely un-American. As he wrote in the introduction to Twenty-One Folk-Songs of French Canada, Gibbon believed the settlers of New France came to Canada from a Romantic time of song that pervaded all aspects of life, which had subsequently been maintained in the culture of French-Canada by the “Church steeped in musical ritual,” the voyageurs, and the mothers who “went about the house humming love songs,” and sang “the same lullaby to seventeen children.” 100 The “Folksingers and Craftsworkers” at the CPR festivals were seen to present French-Canadian culture accordingly, relying on a teleological view of civilization wherein cultures were thought to advance from most “primitive” to increasingly “civilized.” 97 Margaret Gascoigne, Chansons of Old French Canada, Quebec: Chateau Frontenac, 1920. 98 ibid., 1. 99 ibid., 5-27. Kines, “Chief-Man-Of-Many-Sides,” 100. Kines credits the successful sale of Gascoigne’s work to American tourists to “obvious differences” of the “foreign (European) flavour of the French lyrics and the exotic unfamiliar settings for the songs,” while acknowledging that any analysis of musical styles falls outside the scope of his thesis. 100 Gibbon, “Introduction,” in Twenty-One Folk-Songs of French Canada, ed. Ernest MacMillan. The Frederick Harris Co., Oakville, Ontario (1928): i. 58 2.6 Location in CPR Advertising The CPR advertised Quebec City as a physical, geographical location where the “past” was preserved; promoting a model of French-Canadian folk culture as a pastoral, idyllic retreat from modernity was a trend in CPR advertisements for Quebec City. In May 1926 a large CPR ad in The New York Times read: “Quebec! The City of the Quaint,” atop a sketch of a couple strolling a cobblestone street with the Chateau Frontenac looming atop the “Normandy maisons.” The descriptive paragraph elaborated upon the historical connection: “It was France these people brought…and Old France is here today.”101 Other ads described the city’s cobblestone streets and ox-carts, exhorting the public to “come up for awhile this summer, for a journey into the romantic past” for Quebec was “an old-world French community.”102 Just as The Canadian Mosaic described the shared characteristics of a “race” as a result of geographical experience, geography was said to have played a key role in transforming the songs of France into the folksongs of French-Canada. Gibbon explained as much in the introduction to Twenty-One Folk-Songs of French Canada, a volume of folksongs arrangements by many of the composers who participated at the CPR festivals, edited by Ernest MacMillan (1928). “Although such French-Canadian folk-songs may date back to medieval Europe, they have taken on a new character and rhythm when sung as work-songs... Moreover the Canadian melodies frequently reveal a charm less evident in the original French version… The reason for this special melodic quality may be found in the character of the settlers in New France, and the conditions under which they lived.”103 101 Picture & text advertisements, The New York Times (May 2 & 9, 1926). 102 Picture & text advertisement, The New York Times (May 9, 1926). 103 J. Murray Gibbon, “Introduction,” in Twenty-One Folk-Songs of French Canada, ed. Ernest MacMillan. Oakville, ON: The Frederick Harris Co. (1928): i. 59 Gibbon identified the overall atmosphere of the “Middle Ages and right up to the seventeenth century” as one where music was a widely required element of study, for academics, aspiring clergymen, and guildsmen. Describing the music as “the actual accompaniment to work” throughout the countryside, Gibbon concluded: “people of these years lived in an atmosphere of song.”104 The Quebec City festival programs exhibited the same language and emphasis on the physical space of Quebec City as an enclave of ‘pastness’ and ‘romance’; the inside cover of the general program, intended to advertise for the 1927 festival read: “When the May sun shines on the steep little streets in Quebec, and the south wind comes, all full of birds . . when they get out from behind their three-foot stone walls to plough with oxen on the Isle of Orleans . . . that’s the time for us to find romance. Gay young romance that comes out of the ground in Quebec, and drops from those flaring sunset skies . . romance in the old songs, the old laughter, the old trails, and young Jean Ba’tiste painting his house to bring home P’tite Marie.”105 The rest of the advertisement read in the same vein, and encouraged tourists to come stay at the Chateau Frontenac, complete with modern conveniences, yet accessible to the “17th century town,” whose population was said to “still dwell in a romantic age.”106 The CP Bulletin (June 1928) also described this unique conflation of past charms and present conveniences: “This Second Festival, as a whole, still further emphasized the fact made plain by the First Festival last year, that Quebec is the true home of Romance… and preserves, amid all the conveniences and luxuries of modern life, the Old World charm of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries.”107 104 Gibbon, “Introduction,” in Twenty-One Folk-Songs of French Canada, i. 105 CP General promotional program (May 20-22, 1927). 106 CP General promotional program (May 20-22, 1927). Describes the Chateau Frontenac as “that steam-heated castle where rooms are luxurious, where service is swift and silent, and food is something to celebrate with song!” 107 CP Archives. CP Bulletin 233. Montreal June 1, 1928 (Section 90). 60 The CPR marketing strategy is reflected in present-day advertising for Quebec City that echoes similar statements that reinforce a connection to Europe, and the role of the physical site: “The chateau, majestic. On a beautiful terrace you’re greeted as a friend… You savour the here and now on a street corner steeped in history… There’s something in the air. It’s Europe. Ah, the charm of Europe. And yet, you’re still on this side of the Atlantic. Close to home. Right here in Quebec City. It’s time to turn your trip into a voyage.”108 2.7 French-Canadian Representations at the CPR Festivals Gibbon and Barbeau closely managed all aspects of the festivals to ensure accordance with their joint vision, from costuming to the scheduling of performers. While all performers were costumed, professional artists dressed either in habitant or Renaissance-inspired costumes that corresponded with their repertoire. These artists, including Gauthier and Glenn, performed a character inspired by their repertoire, and regardless of their own ancestry. Amateur artists, on the other hand, were expected to portray the model of French-Canadian culture as it was imagined, sanctioned and encouraged by Barbeau and Gibbon. These imported “Folk” were presented as living displays of “folk life” or holdovers of an “authentic,” albeit disappearing culture. When this subjective definition of cultural authenticity (which allowed no room for a contemporary, “authentic” existence of said culture), was confronted by reality it could lead to disappointment on the part of audience members. One Toronto journalist expressed severe displeasure at what they considered to be anachronistic “modernity” amongst the folksingers: 108 http://qo.bonjourquebec.com/en/on/summer/partner/quebec (accessed July 5, 2014) (“Quebec City. So Europe. So Close”) The Historic District of Old Quebec, which includes both the Upper & Lower towns and the “ancient districts,” is a UNESCO World Heritage site http://whc.unesco.org/en/list/300 (accessed July 5, 2014). 61 “some of the younger French work-singers are annoyingly modern. They bob their hair and wear high-heeled shoes. But among the older women…one finds a refreshing naivety.”109 which included the musical segregation of professional and amateur artists. Professional and amateur artists did not sing together, for reasons Gibbon described to Barbeau in a letter: “I have never liked the idea of professional singers appearing with folk-singers in a group.. the trained voices of the professional singers mark them out too much.”110 While the singers did not perform in groups together (with the exception of certain large-scale productions at the 1928 festival), the professional and folk-singers did perform one after another at the same concerts. For example, The Music Makers’ 1927 festival performance of selections by Jannequin, Costelay, Goudinel, Guedron, and Ronsard was immediately followed by those of François Saint-Laurent and Joseph Ouellete, two folksingers from Gaspé.”111 The Music Makers’ second performance of the festival (“17th century Brunettes and Chansons of Old France”) was on the same bill as that of several performers referred (and scheduled) collectively as “Group of Folk Singers.”112 These examples demonstrate the related distinction between the repertoire of folk- and professional singers, which was equally as influenced by Barbeau’s expert opinion. Barbeau and his colleagues, including Edward Sapir and Diamond Jenness, carried out extensive fieldwork to catalogue and collect material and intangible artifacts believed to represent “authentic” culture. As Sapir, head of the newly-formed 109 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 437 F 4: Toronto Star Weekly (June 9, 1928). 110 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 23: letter from Gibbon (April 11, 1928). 111 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday evening program (May 22, 1927). See Appendix A. 112 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday evening program (May 22, 1927). The “Group of Folksingers” consisted of “Philéas Bédard, François Saint-Laurent and folk dancers, Joseph Ouellette and Vincent-Ferrier de Repentigny.” 62 anthropology department stated in 1911, “now or never is the time in which to collect… what is still available for study…what is lost now will never be recovered again.”113 While opinions varied concerning the purpose of collecting the artifacts (whether for display, for study, for inspiring art etc.) all were in agreement that the work ought to proceed. Barbeau, too, accepted the imminent disappearance of the cultures he studied; as he wrote in 1926, “the best we can hope for now is to preserve the remnants.”114 Barbeau believed collected music from French-Canadian and Indigenous informants was equally capable of inspiring “higher-art” forms and he provided many artists with access to collected materials in the hopes of encouraging musical and visual arts based on these “national symbols.” The French-Canadian repertoire performed by professional artists at the CPR festivals was comprised mainly of collected music, the majority of which was provided from the Barbeau collection of the National Museum. Great care was taken to ensure as little repetition as possible between professional performers’ repertoire. In contrast, the folksingers performed unarranged music, or what was viewed as “raw” materials, which was not mandated by Gibbon or Barbeau. So prevalent was this distinction at the festivals, that Janet McNaughton identifies the two groups of performers based on their repertoire; “source” performers learned their repertoire via oral tradition, and “non- source” performers learned by studying collected material.115 In the case of Glenn and The Music Makers, Barbeau and Gibbon selected arrangements for the group to prepare, excerpted from the Paris Conservatory’s 113 Edward Sapir, “An Anthropological Survey of Canada,” Science 34 (July-December 1911): 793. Dyck, “These Things Are Our Totems,” 38. 114 Marius Barbeau, “Save Art of Coast Indians,” Vancouver Daily Province (October 22, 1926). 115 McNaughton, “Quebec Folk Song and Handicraft Festivals,” 71. 63 L’Encyclopédie de la Musique (~1914) and J. Weckerlin’s text Échos du Temps Passé (Vol. II, ~1855).116 The group’s accompanist, Constance Hamilton, wrote to Gibbon on behalf of McInnes on April 25, to acknowledge the receipt of the selections and to inform him that the group would be prepared to sing any of the eighteen pieces listed in the letter for the festival.117 Florence Glenn and The Music Makers were included in the Quebec City festival programs to fulfill a certain purpose, as Gibbon explained in a letter to Barbeau, “if they could learn French madrigals of the sixteenth century and court airs of the early seventeenth it would be considered… they have costumes and it would be an interesting historical link, as this is the kind of music that some of the early settlers must have known.”118 Program notes for The Music Makers contextualized their program as part of the retroactive lineage of Canadian music: “Although folksong… has little in common with the madrigals and partsongs of the courtly composers of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, we must not forget that the early pioneers and settlers in Canada belonged just as often to the good families as to the peasant classes of Old France. Many of them were no doubt familiar with and sang these more sophisticated songs, and some of these melodies may be preserved still by tradition among their descendants in Canada.”119 Significantly less program space was devoted to the repertoire of folksingers as compared to the professional artists, as is evident upon a brief comparison between Gibbon’s program notes for The Music Makers and the folksingers who followed them on in the concert schedule. Program notes for the folksingers consisted of lists of titles, and at times a brief categorization of the music, for example as “work song” or “Ballad of the 116 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Saturday evening program (May 21, 1927). Jean-Baptiste Weckerlin, Échos du Temps Passé, Vol. II (circa 1855); CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B197 F19: letter (April 25, 1927). See Appendix A for list of songs performed. 117 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon (April 25, 1927). 118 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon (April 22, 1927). 119 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Saturday evening program (May 21, 1927). 64 sea.”120 In contrast, The Music Makers’ programs not only included a repertoire list, but also the composer or collector’s name, and often lyrics in French with English translations by Gibbon. Over the course of the 1927 festival, The Music Makers occupied a total of four and a half pages for nine songs, in comparison to the folksingers at the same concerts, whose performances warranted only one and a half pages for eleven songs worth of repertoire. The 1928 performances and programs exhibited much the same trend, with more pages devoted to the explication of the repertoire of professional singers, rather than the folksingers. With the addition of the large-scale staged productions, presented at Auditorium Theatre, folksinger performances were relegated to the matinee performances at the Chateau, the exceptions being the performance of children’s round dances and “play-parties,” as well as a short “veillée.”121 Other discontinuities in the treatment of “source” and “non-source” performers were largely tied to economic factors that demonstrated a lack of valorization on the part of festival organizers towards the folksingers and crafts workers. In addition to appearing at the ticketed events, “source” performers sang at free concerts on Dufferin Terrace and alongside the handiwork display with the crafts workers. Folksingers and crafts workers received far less remuneration for their performances when compared to their professional counterparts, if at all apart from travel expenses. For example, while Gauthier was paid a fee of $300.00 for her participation at the 1927 festival, Lawrence Nowry records Mme Bouchard was paid only $30.00 for her performance at the 120 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Saturday evening program (May 21, 1927). 121 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Friday evening program (May 25, 1928). 65 festival.122 Further, due to an exclusive contract between the Chateau Frontenac and the on-site Holt Renfrew store, crafts workers were prohibited from selling their wares at the festival; instead, audience members were directed to Holt Renfrew for handmade goods at special festival-rated prices.123 Finally, correspondence between Barbeau and Gibbon reveals a perception of the “source” performers as exhibiting quasi-childlike tendencies, as Barbeau noted, a “lack of sufficient control” on the part of the folksingers that would need to be regulated, since the year before they had ordered beer and food in a manner he viewed “quite unnecessary.”124 2.8 Indigenous Representations at the CPR Festivals The 1927 Quebec City festival also included several performances of Indigenous repertoire, by both Juliette Gauthier and members of the Huron-Wendat nation from the Lorette reserve north of Quebec City.125 Gauthier gave a recital almost identical to that of her Town Hall concert, while the Huron-Wendat performers presented five “Huron Indian songs and dances” at the Saturday matinee, as well as three “religious songs” and two dances at the Sunday matinee.126 As was the case with the French-Canadian “source” 122 Nowry, Marius Barbeau: Man of Mana, 284; CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: (May 5, 1927) (May 30, 1927). Mme Bouchard was a folksinger who participated in the production Madame de Repentigny et sa ‘Manufacture,’ as well as the spinning exhibitions. 123 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: (March 4, 1927). Gibbon wrote goods would be sold through Holt Renfrew “so weavers can just work and American tourists won’t waste their time trying to get deals.” For an in-depth examination of the handicrafts portion of the festivals, see Janet McNaughton, “A Study of the CPR-Sponsored Quebec Folk Song and Handicraft Festivals, 1927-1930,” MA Thesis, St. John’s: Memorial University, 1982. 124 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 23: letter to Gibbon (May 1, 1928). The letter also mentions the need to arrange escorts for the performers since the preceding year they had been “incapable of finding their way” to and from the Chateau Frontenac and Auditorium Theatre. 125 The program lists “Caroline Grosbois, Mme Daniel Grosbois, Alice Sioui, Mme Abraham Sioui, Mme Camille Vincent, Michel Sioui, Albert Sioui and son.” See Appendix A for concert information. Contemporary reserve of the Huron-Wendat Nation (Nation Huronne-Wendatte) See www.wendake.ca. 126 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Saturday matinee program (May 21, 1927); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday matinee program (May 22, 1927). See Appendix A. 66 performers and their repertoire, Barbeau and his colleagues were seen as equally qualified to assess the authenticity of Indigenous performers and repertoire. Kirshenblatt-Gimblett identifies “indigeneity,” or the quality of being native-to a place, as a value commonly associated with tourist and heritage production, which affords the subject a legitimate authority (based on authenticity). As Andrew Nurse explains, Barbeau maintained a conscious divide between past and present versions of both Indigenous and French-Canadian cultures, which informed his collecting work.127 As Barbeau stated in a later publication, he believed that “in the early stages of useful and folk arts in this country there was no lack of aesthetic values and appreciation, but most of what was worthy in Indian and French-Canadian arts unfortunately belongs to the past.”128 Sandra Dyck describes this belief that only past incarnations of (in this case, Indigenous culture) were authentic, as a case of “aboriginality related to a subjective definition of authenticity, and not demographics.”129 The contentious nature of this subjective designation is particularly evident in an examination the performances of Indigenous repertoire at the CPR festivals. The program notes outlined Barbeau and Gibbon’s acceptance of the key differences between past and present images of Huron-Wendat culture, based on the premise that the identification of indigenous authenticity was the purview of experts.130 This often resulted in descriptions of the performers as inauthentic representations of their forefathers. Though Barbeau had conducted fieldwork at the Lorette reserve since 1911, he wrote that he did not consider the population of the Lorette Reserve to be 127 Nurse, “Their Ancient Customs are Gone,” 18. 128 Marius Barbeau, Backgrounds in Canadian Art, Ottawa: Royal Society of Canada (1941) 36. 129 Dyck, “These Things Are Our Totems,” 37. 130 Nurse, “Their Ancient Customs are Gone,” 15-16. 67 “Huron” any longer.131 As Andrew Nurse summarizes, Barbeau believed the Huron- Wendat had either been “assimilated but did not fully realize it,” or were “mired in social problems created by the belief that some level of authenticity persisted.”132 Program notes conveyed as much to the audiences, and described the performers as “more like Europeans than Indians,” since they had “lost their native language and much of what is really ancient.”133 CPR festival literature also maintained a clear distinction between the Huron-Wendat performers (or “Hurons of Lorette”) at the festival as “inauthentic” due to their status as “half-breed descendants” of the “ancient Hurons and Wyandots discovered by Champlain and Sagard.”134 Later in his career Barbeau continued to express his disappointment at the “inauthentic” nature of the Huron-Wendat nation: “Lorette people were like their [French-Canadian] neighbours in Charlesbourg.”135 The repertoire performed by the Huron-Wendat singers and dancers was also considered to be the “ancient” cultural remains of the “authentic” past. Program notes rationalized the inclusion of the songs, describing the performers as still “[cherishing] their racial affiliation with the early Hurons of prehistoric times,” and “[remembering] a few of the native songs and dances, and some of the canticles taught them in Huron by the early Jesuits.”136 Though the repertoire was considered authentic, programs listed the bare minimum of information for most of the songs and dances performed—a title with no English or French translation. On several occasions a categorization of the music was 131 Keillor, Music in Canada, 35. 132 Nurse, “Their Ancient Customs are Gone,” 17-18. 133 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, General program (May 20-22, 1927). 134 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, General program (May 20-22, 1927). 135 As quoted by Nurse, “Their Ancient Customs are Gone,” 17. 136 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, General program (May 20-22, 1927). 68 also included after the title, for example “(dance),” or “chant de guerre.”137 No further translations, descriptions or explanations were given for the bulk of the repertoire. The glaring exception to this lack of information applied to one song—Jesous Ahatonnia (Jésus est né)—for which both the “Indian words,” translated by seventeenth- century Jesuit missionary Father Brébeuf, and the French translation by Ernest Mynard were provided in the program.138 To reiterate, this was the only piece of ten selections performed by the Huron-Wendat artists for which Gibbon provided an explanation. The program notes described this piece as “modified from an old French Noel of the Sixteenth Century,” citing Mynard’s 1907 publication, Noëls Anciens de la Nouvelle-France.139 Jesous Ahatonnia (Jésus est né) represented the French-European musical tradition in Canada, and the colonizing impact of French-European culture onto that of the Huron- Wendat nation, or as Gibbon wrote in The Canadian Mosaic, the superimposition of the “Canadian race of the future” on the “original native Indian races.”140 As Gibbon would make clear a decade later in The Canadian Mosaic, there were limits to his universalist aspirations; indeed, there was no room for the Huron-Wendat performers within the boundaries of Gibbon’s mosaic. The program notes expose Gibbon’s lack of concern for any comprehension on the part of festival audiences in terms of the lyrics, context or meaning of any repertoire performed by the Huron-Wendat performers at the 1927 festival. The monthly CPR Bulletin of June 1, 1927 published a glowing account of the successful nature of the inaugural festival, which made special note of the Huron-Wendat 137 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Saturday matinee program (May 21, 1927). 138 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday matinee program (May 22, 1927). 139 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday matinee program (May 22, 1927). Ernest Mynard, Noëls Anciens de la Nouvelle-France, 1899. 140 Gibbon, The Canadian Mosaic, vii. 69 performances. A short sentence described the “Hurons from Ancienne Lorette,” who sang “primitive religious songs taught to their savage forefathers by the Jesuit missionaries, among whom was the martyred Father Bréboeuf (sic).”141 The brief description, like the CPR programs, emphasized the connection to Europe and the distinction between contemporary and “ancient” communities. More glaring than the program notes, however, was the use of both “primitive” and “savage” in the span of one sentence, and the emphasis on Brébeuf’s martyrdom.142 In his 1930 article “An Indian Paradise Lost,” Barbeau reiterated his position in regards to Indigenous populations that the “authentic” age was “passing away… what now survives is but a shadow, a memory.. lesson, that the past is a valuable asset to a people who wisely nurse the future.”143 This view of the past as an asset inspired Barbeau’s work with professional artists like Gauthier, as he provided “authentic” repertoire from the National Museum collection in order to encourage the performance of “Canadian folksong.” Gauthier’s performances at the CPR festival were typical of her early career and consisted of two separate groups of collected songs called “Northern Alaskan and Copper Eskimo Songs,” and “West Coast, British Columbia and Vancouver Island Nootka Indian Songs.”144 Initially, she requested to sing with the Huron-Wendat performers and French- Canadian folksingers, who Gauthier claimed to “love more than these supposed civilized 141 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, CP Bulletin 221, Montreal (June 1, 1927) Section 33. 142 Cornelius Jaenen, “Jean de Brébeuf,” in The Canadian Encyclopedia, February 24, 2008. (updated December 16, 2013). 143 Marius Barbeau, “An Indian Paradise Lost,” in Canadian Geographical Journal 1, no. 2. (1930): 148. 144 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday matinee program (May 22, 1927). Similar program to CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 16: Gauthier concert program (April 8, 1927). 70 musicians of Montreal.”145 Gibbon denied her request; Gauthier was one of the top-billed performers at the festival, and it would not do to have her singing with the “Folk.” A compromise was agreed upon, and Gauthier sang immediately before and after the Huron-Wendat performers on the Sunday afternoon recital.146 Despite her desire to share the stage with Indigenous performers, Gauthier preferred her own representation of Indigenous cultures to the Huron-Wendat performances. Gauthier was disappointed with the Huron-Wendat performers; echoes of Barbeau’s understanding of “authentic” culture resonate in her letter to Diamond Jenness of the National Museum: “The Indians [were] not so good. Lorette has been visited too much by missionaries and French … which has turned their skin rather white, appalling to see how religious Indians can get and become a race of fanatic Catholics, their houses filled with Madonna’s instead of their beautiful totem poles.”147 Ironically, though she was disappointed in the Huron-Wendat performance, roughly one-third of the selections performed by Gauthier at the 1927 CPR festival were not collected materials from the National Museum. Rather, she had incorporated selections from “Songs of the Coast Dwellers,” a collection of poetry by Constance Lindsay Skinner into the performance.148 Skinner (1879-1939) spent her childhood at a fur-trading post in Quesnel, British Columbia, the daughter of a Hudson’s Bay Company (H.B.C.) employee. 149 Her work as a journalist and fiction-writer was ultimately influenced by this experience; Skinner’s biographer Dorothy Adams writes of “an attachment, a feeling of kinship, to the Indians,” which developed over the course of 145 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 196 F 24: letter from Gauthier (May 4, 1927). 146 See Appendix A. 147 CMH/MHC Gaultier coll. B 645 F 1: letter to Jenness (June 1, 1927). 148 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday matinee program (May 22, 1927); Constance Lindsay Skinner, Songs of the Coast Dwellers, New York City: Coward-McCann, 1930. 149 Dorothy Adams, “Biographical Sketch,” in Constance Lindsay Skinner: Author and Editor, ed. Ann Heidbreder Eastman, Women’s National Book Association, Inc. (1980): 16. 71 Skinner’s childhood. 150 However, Skinner’s work was “frequently criticized by academics for historical inaccuracy,” as Adams continues, since the author “combined her literary talent and feel for the land with historical movements and trends, rather than with detailed events.”151 In the case of Songs of the Coast Dwellers, Adams describes the poems as “lyrical interpretations of mood and Indian life, songs cadenced in Indian rhythm.”152 The volume was a compilation of Skinner’s work that had been previously published in journals or newspapers. As Skinner wrote in the introduction to the 1930 printing: “my Songs of the Coast Dwellers are not translations nor adaptations of Indian poems: nor were they suggested by Indian poems, for I had made no study of Indian poetry when I began to write them.”153 Gauthier’s own definition of “authentic” indigeneity was so subjective that she valued poetry written by a non-Indigenous, Canadian author, as equal to ethnographic field recordings and transcriptions made over the course of nationally- sanctioned, professional fieldwork. Gauthier was aware of the fictional nature of these poems and she acknowledged Skinner’s authorship in the programs, alternately referring to the pieces as “Interpretations,” or “Translations from “Songs of the Coast Dwellers.”154 Skinner’s “Interpretations” continued to be a staple in Gauthier’s programs from 1927 until at least 150 ibid., 17. 151 ibid., 20. 152 ibid., 23. Adams writes that Skinner “departed from fiction to write Songs of the Coast Dwellers, a volume of poetry inspired by the Squamish Indians of her native British Columbia. These poems are not translations.” 153 Constance Lindsay Skinner, Songs of the Coast Dwellers, New York City: Coward-McCann (1930): viii. 154 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains, Sunday evening program (May 22, 1927); See also: Juliette Gaultier de la Verendrye, Folk Songs of Canada, (Recital program) Ottawa: Chateau Laurier, 1927. 72 1938, when Gauthier sang in Paris following her tenure as Canadian delegate for the 1937 exhibition.155 One of the poems in Skinner’s collections, The Wild Woman’s Lullaby, was set to music by Arturo Buzzi-Peccia in 1924, and similar though not identical lyrics were included for one of Gauthier’s songs under the sub-heading of “Nootka Lullaby” which read: “Another version as sung by the Mother.”156 The Wild Woman’s Lullaby Poem by Constance Lindsay Skinner Music by A. Buzzi-Peccia What shall I sing to thee, babe on my back? Ah!__ Ah!__ Ah!____ Ah!______ Song of the Eagle that mates with the storm. Ri – i – kii. Thy father is Eagle-Go-High, Chief of thy tribe, Fiercest in war, swiftest in hunting, Harshest and fond in the tent of his woman. He is my mate. What shall I sing to thee, son on my back? Songs of the wind that is wanton for ever, calling, calling for ever, For the chase of swift wings, For the drive and the smite of wild wings Thy mother is Storm-Dancer, daughter of the Wind. What art though, little Chiefling, babe of my heart? The star that I pluck’d from the mast of the night, When the wings of thy father outstrove me. Eagle-Go-High, this is thy son. He falls asleep smiling to the scream of the nesting call. Ah!__ Ah!__ Ah!______ Ah!____ Ah!______ Eagle-Go-High, He is thy son, Rii – ii - kii, Rii – ii - kii, Ri-ii-kii. 155 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B196 F24: Chants Eskimo et Indiens du Canada (March 26, 1938). In the 1938 program Gauthier did not list Skinner as the author for the “Interpretations.” 156 Arturo Buzzi-Peccia, The Wild Woman’s Lullaby, Poem by Constance Lindsay Skinner, Boston: Oliver Ditson Co., 1924. 73 Lyrics included in Gauthier’s program157 Ihi! Ihi! Ihi! Oho! Thy father is Eagle-go-high, chief of thy tribe. Thy mother is Storm-dancer, daughter of winds. Where art though, little Chiefling, Babe of my heart? The star that I plucked from the night When the wings of thy father out-strove me! Ihi! Ihi! Ihi! Oho! As Skinner described in the introduction to Songs of the Coast Dwellers, “The succession of lyrics presents, in primitive symbolism, the characters of an imaginary community and the interweaving of their lives.” This community included “lovers and the women they mate with, or fail to win, the young mothers, the lonely maidens who still wait for love, and the women forsaken: the dying hunter, the village dandy, the aged man, the chief and his braggart little son…”158 On the whole, these poems presented a highly exoticized, romanticized, and one could say, eroticized version of Indigenous life on the West Coast of British-Columbia. Skinner’s poetry relied on the well-known contemporary cliché of the “noble savage.” As Carole Gerson examines, this equating “of the Indian with natural happiness and ease, in opposition to urbanized Europe” was familiar in popular literature by the 1830s.159 In her own words, Skinner described the inspiration for her poetry as “chiefly the coast of British Columbia” and “Nature Rhythms… sounds that the dissonants of civilization have not dimmed for me.”160 157 Juliette Gaultier de la Verendrye, Folk Songs of Canada, (Recital program) Ottawa: Chateau Laurier, 1927. 158 Skinner, Songs of the Coast Dwellers, ix. 159 Gerson, “Nobler Savages,” 6-7. 160 Skinner, Songs of the Coast Dwellers, ix. 74 2.9 Concluding Remarks As virtual and physical sites of heritage-production, the Quebec City CPR festivals of 1927 and 1928 encouraged a specific way of considering Canada’s past, both musical and historical. Based on the pre-existing ideologies adhered to by Gibbon and Barbeau, the festivals had extra-musical implications as the performances and programs disseminated Eurocentric preconceptions of culture, race and ethnicity to their audiences. As large-scale exhibitions comprised of individual and group performances, which themselves can be read as exhibitions or living museum displays, the CPR festivals relied on packaged identities of both French-Canadian and Indigenous cultures, largely based on the expert opinions of Barbeau and the National Museum staff, an examination of which showcases the complex Canadian cultural politics of the 1920s.161 Marketed to Anglophone tourists, as well as Canadian musicians and composers, the CPR festivals at Quebec City relied on the commodification of French-Canadian culture and the physical space of Quebec City. The European model of folksongs as inspiration for classical “high-art” composition proved problematic when applied to the Canadian context, resulting in the both the erasure of Indigenous persons from the idealized Canadian narrative performed at the festivals, and preferential treatment of professional performers over “source” artists. The virtual image of a pastoral, “quaint” culture promoted at the festivals denied the diversity of French-Canadian experience, and conceptualized both the “source” performers and music as inextricably constrained in the past. Indigenous representation at the CPR festivals was similarly limited in perspective, by virtue of racial and power dynamics between colonizer and colonized. 161 Mackey, “Becoming Indigenous,”155. 75 The ensuing subjective identification of “authenticity” with regards to indigeneity lead to the problematic preference of Juliette Gauthier’s performances over those of Huron- Wendat artists at the 1927 festival, although an examination of Gauthier’s own repertoire choices, which included the poetry of Constance Skinner, demonstrates a subjective identification of authenticity and devaluing of indigeneity. These contentious issues of representation were likewise made visible throughout a series of large productions, called “ballad-operas” presented at the 1928 festival, which performed Gibbon’s understanding of Canada’s musical traditions as part of broader, European-derived practices. Jean Beck’s arrangement of de la Halle’s Jeu de Robin et de Marion illustrated French-peasant life of the thirteenth-century, which Gibbon and Barbeau believed to be the precursor to French-Canadian song and culture. Three productions based on libretti by de Montigny (L’Ordre de bon-temps, Madame de Repentigny et sa ‘manufacture,’ and Les Forestiers et Voyageurs) presented an idealized narrative of Canadian settlement compatible with later iterations of The Canadian Mosaic and an Anglocentric sense of identity, where “all become Canadian and progress together into the future.”162 162 Mackey, “Becoming Indigenous,” 154. 76 Chapter Three: Juliette Gauthier and Florence Glenn: Interpreters of “Canadian Folksongs” 3.1 Gauthier and Glenn Introduction In their recitals of French-Canadian and Indigenous repertoire both Gauthier and Glenn interacted with and subsequently (re)presented notions of authenticity to their audiences, through their performance styles and concert literature. Influenced by the socio-cultural context of Canadian nation-building and identity-formation, Glenn and Gauthier’s recitals performed essentialized categories of French-Canadian and Indigenous identities. Their “realness” in presentation was influenced by Barbeau’s subjective identification of “authenticity,” as he provided both Glenn and Gauthier with much of their “Canadian Folksongs” repertoire. The solo careers of Gauthier and Glenn followed similar trajectories; later in Glenn’s career, a review in the Telegram noted similarities between the two: “as the pioneering Mme Gauthier has done, Glenn accompanied herself on native drums.”1 Glenn and Gauthier were both classically trained vocalists; Gauthier attended the Montreal Conservatory of Music in 1907, and studied both voice and violin in Europe thanks to the financial support of Wilfrid Laurier, then Prime Minister of Canada, and his wife Lady Zoë.2 Glenn’s training included at least one year at the Margaret Eaton School, as well as her study under McInnes as a member of The Music Makers. Promotional material dating from the 1940s and ‘50s indicates Glenn studied in England with a voice 1 Glenn papers. Box 11: Telegram (Toronto) March 25, 1940. “Florence Glenn to give recital, Soprano’s program to include group of traditional Canadian songs.” The article also makes note of Barbeau’s encouragement of Glenn’s career, her concert tour across Canada, and travel to London and Paris. 2 Slominska, “Interpreting success and failure,” 88. Gauthier studied violin in Hungary with Jeno Hubay and voice in Florence, Italy with Vincenzo Lombardi between 1907-1912. Both Juliette Gauthier and her sister Eva benefited from Laurier’s patronage. Eva made a career of singing Javanese music, and was later associated with George Gershwin and the avant-garde music scene in New York. 77 teacher named William Shakespeare (sic), as well as roles in the opéra-comique repertoire in Paris between 1931-1938.3 Reviews of Glenn and Gauthier’s concerts regularly reported not only on the musical components of the performance but also the overall atmosphere, often in reference to the original performers through rhetoric of a “racial quality.” In addition to incorporating new archival information of Glenn’s career specifically, this chapter compares the overall performance styles of both women in the decade surrounding the CPR festivals. 3.2 Glenn in Toronto Glenn’s early career in Toronto played an important role in her later presentation of folksong; while details of Glenn’s performances throughout the 1920s are quite scarce, new archival sources provide information concerning her education and performing experience as a young woman.4 Between 1924 and 1926 Glenn was engaged in a variety of theatrical and musical productions with the Hart House Theatre, and the Margaret Eaton School of Literature and Expression with several of the city’s cultural leaders, including Bertram Forsyth, Healey Willan and J. Campbell McInnes.5 Glenn began her affiliation with Forsyth when she enrolled in a summer course at the Hart House Theatre (1924), which lead to her continued involvement throughout the 1924-1925 season; she appeared in a musical arrangement of Yeats’ At the Hawk’s Well (November 1924) and John Synge’s Riders to the Sea (March 1925).6 Over the course of 3 Glenn papers. Box 11: Heliconian Club program (April 12, 1940). 4 See Appendix B. 5 Glenn papers. Box 11: letter to Glenn from Trinity College office of provost (May 4, 1925). Addressed “c/o Margaret Eaton School,” the letter thanks Glenn for her “assistance with Saturday’s program” and commends her “excellence of presentation of a really difficult part.” 6 Glenn papers. Box 11: Hart House Theatre program (November 1924). The 41st production included At the Hawk’s Well (E. Dulac) and The Shewing up of Blanco-Posnet (B. Shaw); Glenn papers. Box 11: 78 Forsyth’s directorship (1921-1925) the Hart House Theatre was a model of the “Little Theatre” movement, devoted to the production of Canadian experimental/modern theatre as an alternative to mass-produced, professional shows. The “Little Theatre” movement has been identified by Heather Murray as a significant part of the exploration of Canadian artistic identity in the 1920s.7 Glenn attended the Margaret Eaton School, an all-female academy in Toronto that offered two-year diplomas in dramatic art, and physical culture.8 Classes offered at the school included: “Classic and aesthetic dancing, Folk dancing, Physical training, Voice training, and Rhythm and expression.”9 The curriculum, developed in 1907 by the school’s founder Emma Scott Raff, was devoted to exploring the transformative, embodied potential of the dramatic arts, drawing on her own experience as a singer and interaction with the ideas of François Delsarte.10 Delsartean practice relied on the premise that thought and feeling could be systematically expressed through prescribed physical movements. Early reviews of Glenn’s performances (musical and otherwise) described her as a dramatic performer; one reviewer from The Globe noted that of all of the summer students who had “won a commendation,” it was Glenn and another actor that “lead in Hart House Theatre program (March 1925). The 44th production included Riders to the Sea (J. Synge) and The Sabine Women (L. Andreyev); Glenn also participated in a December production of “Aladdin” (Telegram: December 26, 1924) and the Hart House Theatre revue Plays in the Air (Hart House Theatre, Players Club, n.d.). 7 Dyck, These Things Are Our Totems, 7. The 450-seat theatre was part of the multi-purpose Hart House facility on the University of Toronto campus. See also Hart House Theatre, A Description of the Theatre and the Record of its First Nine Seasons 1919-1928. Toronto: Hart House Theatre, c. 1928. The theatre was under the management of the “Syndics of Hart House Theatre” (the Hon. Vincent Massey, “Mrs. Vincent Massey,” Lt. Col. G.F. McFarland, and Dr. George Locke) and directly responsible to the University of Toronto’s Board of Governors. 8 Anna Lathrop, “Elegance and Expression, Sweat and Strength: Body Training, Physical Culture and Female Embodiment in Women’s Education at the Margaret Eaton Schools (1901-1942),” Ed.D., dissertation, University of Toronto: Toronto (1997): 28. 9 Lathrop, “Elegance and Expression,” 150. 10 Lathrop, “Elegance and Expression,” 39. 79 [the] histrionic competition.”11 Toronto Daily Star columnist Augustus Bridle reported that though Glenn had “gone into the study of drama merely as an aid to her singing,” she was equally talented in the dramatic arts. Bridle had only positive comments on her performance of Juliet and the infamous ‘poison scene:’ “Miss Glenn did a big piece of work, replete with natural passion, intensity, freedom of movement, dramatic concentration- all that and more; but she began by using drama as an element of song… she belongs to the stage.”12 Later promotional materials of Glenn’s note this two-pronged approach in her early career, stating: “She was at the time divided between a theatrical or musical career, having shown unusual promise as an actress. She decided in favor of music.”13 Glenn’s status as either full- or part-time student is unclear from the school records, as is any record of which classes she attended. By the 1920s the Eaton school had developed a reputation for providing upper-middle class women with a “professional and practical education.” 14 In the mid-1920s, however, declining enrolment in the dramatic arts stream prompted a reconfiguration of the school to focus solely on physical education training.15 Bertram Forsyth briefly served as Principal of the Margaret Eaton School, and Director of the Department of Literature and Dramatic Art for the 1925-1926 11 Glenn papers. Box 11: The Globe, “Dramatic Students at Summer Course win Commendation” (July 25, 1924). 12 Glenn papers. Box 11: Augustus Bridle, “High Lights on Music” column, Toronto Daily Star (August 2, 1924). 13 Glenn papers. Box 11: Heliconian Club program (April 12, 1940). A note reads: “In response to a general request, Miss Glenn will include in her programme a group of Canadian Indian songs in which she accompanies herself on native Indian drums, and French-Canadian songs. The programme will also include arias by Bach, Handel and Mozart, and groups of songs by Schubert and Debussy.” The program was roughly half “folksongs” and half classical repertoire. 14 Anna Lathrop, “Portrait of “A Physical”: A Case Study of Elizabeth Pitt Barron (1904-98),” Historical Studies in Education/Revue d’histoire de l’education, 11, no. 2 (1999): 134. 15 John Byl, “The Margaret Eaton School, 1901-1942: Women’s education in elocution, drama and physical education,” Ph.D. dissertation, Buffalo: State University of New York at Buffalo (1992) 133. Scott Raff, uninterested in physical education without the accompanying arts focus, resigned (and in 1926 Mary G. Hamilton was named principal of the Margaret Eaton School) 80 school year between the principalships of Raff and Mary Hamilton (appointed 1926), respectively, which allowed the drama program to continue for one year after Raff’s departure.16 While the theatre component of the Margaret Eaton School predated both Hart House and the Arts and Letters Club, it has not been included in the history of the “Little Theatre” movement. Murray argues the exclusion of the Margaret Eaton School was due to the institution’s role as a female-only academy, and that the distinction between “little” and “amateur” theatre in this case was solely determined on gender of performers.17 Glenn’s recorded involvement with the Eaton School overlapped with Forsyth’s short- lived tenure as principal (1925-6); she sang at the Senior Recital of 1925; An Evening of One-Act plays by students of the school (April 1925); as well as Forsyth’s own production The Shepherdess Without a Heart (December 1925).18 In addition to her study at the Margaret Eaton School and participation in Hart House Theatre productions, Glenn was a member of The Music Makers, an ensemble formed by J. Campbell McInnes in the mid-1920s devoted to the study of “folksongs and English madrigals.”19 The Music Makers (later called The Canadian Singers) performed in costume, and in front of stage settings of “fleur-de-lis drapery” designed by Arthur 16 Lathrop, “Portrait of ‘A Physical,’” 136. Also, Hart House Theatre, A Description of the Theatre, 1928; Florence Somers served as principal between 1934-1941, and in 1942 the school amalgamated with the University of Toronto. 17 Heather Murray, “Making the Modern: Twenty-Five Years of the Margaret Eaton School of Literature and Expression,” in Essays in Theatre/Études Théâtrales 10, no. 1 (November 1991): 39. 18 Glenn papers. Box 11: Margaret Eaton School Senior Recital (1925). Glenn performed “Schubert (Ave Maria); Rubinstein (Not with Angels); Schumann (‘Twas in the lovely month of May; Whene’er I gaze within thine eyes); Glenn papers. Box 11: An Evening of One-Act Plays (April 2, 1925). By students of the Margaret Eaton School, the program included Six Who Pass While the Lentils Boil (S. Walker), The Siege (C.C. Clements) and The Boor (A. Tchekoff); Glenn papers. Box 11: Season 1925-1926 (Season 1925-1926, likely December 1925), Shepherdess Without a Heart (Forsyth) at the New Hall of the Margaret Eaton School. 19 Keillor, Marius Barbeau and Musical Performers, 29. 81 Lismer.20 The press reviews described the visual and musical performance elements as combining to achieve the overall “impression of old-world charm”; as Glenn and her colleagues sat in their “quaint, colorful gowns of Watteau and Fragonard type” their “undertones melt together as bird songs do.”21 This group exemplified, albeit on a smaller scale, the pairing of folksongs and early or historical music found at the CPR festivals. Fig. 1: The Music Makers, Quebec City, 1927 (CP Archives NS31322) Florence Glenn, Betty Gemmill, Margaret Stephens, Margery Baldwin, Doreen Hillary, Grace Johns, Joy Denton Kennedy 20 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 23: The Examiner article (Peterborough, October 16, 1928). The Peterborough Exhibition took place from October 15-20, 1928. 21 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 23. The Examiner article (Peterborough, October 16, 1928). 82 Many of Glenn’s performances during this period in Toronto featured arrangements of early music (at times staged as pantomimes), and reflected the notion of music of the past, which though edited and arranged, was produced and advertised as “authentic.” In an April 1926 program Glenn sang “Rare works by Mozart and Handel,” directed by Forsyth at the New Hall of the Eaton School.22 Though billed as Mozart’s rare opera Bastien and Bastienne, the piece performed at the concert was a reformatted production including a new libretto, lyrics and characters including Mozart and Dr. Mesmer.23 The advertising of the piece as Mozart’s “rare” work, composed at 12 years of age, enticed Toronto audiences to a performance that was a twentieth-century transformation of a historical composition. The second piece of the April 1926 concert had been considerably altered as well; the group performed an abridged version of Handel’s “L'Allegro, il Penseroso ed il Moderato” that transformed the pastoral ode into a pantomime, and omitted over half of Handel’s original forty-nine sections.24 In March that same year, Glenn was featured as one of four soloists in a performance of Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater accompanied by The Music Makers Orchestra under the direction of McInnes. 25 Program notes for the Stabat Mater carefully articulated why McInnes chose to have the ensemble perform Pergolesi’s setting of the Biblical text rather than Rossini’s, citing the former as “historically and artistically more 22 Glenn papers. Box 11: “Amateur Favorites seen at new Margaret Eaton Theatre,” Toronto Evening Telegram (April 27, 1926); “Stage Matters,” Toronto Evening Telegram (May 1, 1926); “Rare works by Mozart and Handel,” Toronto Evening Telegram (May 8, 1926). 23 Glenn papers. Box 11: Season 1925-26 program (n.d.) included Bastien and Bastienne: an opera by Mozart (libretto Forsyth, lyrics Hamilton) and Handel’s setting of Milton’s “L’Allegro” (arr. Forsyth). 24 22 sections were performed. 25 Glenn papers. Box 11: The Music Makers Concert Orchestra program (March 24, 1926). Other soloists were Betty Gemmill, Grace Johns and Pearl Whitehead. The first half of the program featured a non-specific list of pieces: “Three Spiritual Hymns (5th, 17th and 18th centuries), Trio- Golden Sonata (Purcell), Sonata for Cello (Handel), Slow Movement from Flute Concerto (Mozart), and Aria and Chorale (Bach.)” 83 appropriate” than “modern” arrangements (ie. Rossini’s).26 It is unclear when McInnes spoke of these levels of propriety (“historically” and “artistically”), whether his intent was to describe the arrangement as suitable for Biblical times, or merely the aesthetic of the text itself. The critique of “modern” orchestration however, was reminiscent of the contemporary appeal of folk music as a simple, pastoral oasis from the ever-encroaching perceived ills of modernity and rapid urbanization. Regardless of McInnes’ high praise for Pergolesi’s Stabat Mater, program notes indicated the performance was in fact an arrangement specifically created for the March 1926 recital. 3.3 Gauthier in New York City Unlike Glenn, Gauthier was an active interpreter of folksongs prior to the CPR festivals. Originally from Ottawa, Gauthier moved to New York City in the mid-1920s to join her sister, Eva, and teach at the Greenwich Music School after a short-lived attempt at an opera career in Boston.27 Shortly thereafter Gauthier found her niche in the devoted study and presentation of collected French-Canadian, and Indigenous (including Inuit) music under the umbrella heading of “Canadian Folksongs.” Concurrently Gauthier adopted the surname “Gaultier de la Vérendrye,” based on a speculative genealogical connection between her family and the explorer Pierre Gaultier de la Vérendrye.28 This modified name served to first distinguish herself from her sister Eva, as well as to subtly convey to audiences connotations of discovery, Canadian authenticity and upper-class privilege. 26 Glenn papers. Box 11: The Music Makers Concert Orchestra program (March 24, 1926). 27 Slominska, “Interpreting success and failure,” 92. 28 ibid., 92. This myth was widely accepted; Gibbon referred to Gauthier as “a direct descendant of the explorer, Pierre Gaultier de la Vérendrye” in the CPR concert literature. See Encyclopedia Britannica Online, s.v. “Pierre Gaultier de Varennes et de la Vérendrye,” accessed August 18, 2014, http://www.britannica.com/EBchecked/topic/326618/Pierre-Gaultier-de-Varennes-et-de-La-Verendrye. 84 Gauthier responded enthusiastically to the idea of the inaugural CPR festivals when approached by Gibbon, and even refused a twenty-week contract with Famous Players to assure her availability.29 Gibbon and Barbeau underwrote a recital at Town Hall for Gauthier, which took place on April 8, 1927 and served to advertise the upcoming CPR festival. In addition to Gauthier’s costumed performance of Inuit, French- Canadian, and primarily West-Coast Indigenous music, the recital included several ethnographic films, and a lecture by Arctic explorer Vilhjamur Stefansson. Marketed to New York audiences who would be able to afford to travel to Quebec City, Gibbon viewed the Town Hall recital as a preview of the reception to be expected the following month at the CPR festival. At the suggestion of Gibbon, two films were screened at the Town Hall recital. As he wrote to Barbeau, they could “throw the movies on the screen while [Gauthier] is changing costume between her groups of songs.”30 These films, described in the program as “Life of the Nootka, Gitskan and Kootenay Indians” and “Illustrating the life and handicrafts of habitants of Quebec,” were accompanied by “Indian music” and unnamed “French-Canadian folksongs” played by Alfred Gietzen on the viola d’amore.31 In his letter to Barbeau, Gibbon referred to “negatives not yet published taken two summers ago” held by the Associated Screen News, which could potentially be used for the Town Hall recital.32 According to Lynda Jessup, the first film shown was called “Quebec City Festival,” which included the footage mentioned by Gibbon (from the 29 Slominska, “Interpreting Success and Failure,” 162. 30 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon (February 14, 1927). 31 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 16: Gauthier concert program (April 8, 1927). 32 Jessup, “Early Ethnographic Cinema,” 278. CPR was the majority shareholder in the ASN. 85 A.S.N.),33 and the second was a combination of CPR footage and material from Harlan Smith’s anthropological films at the National Museum.34 While Jessup describes both films as “makeshift” or “cobbled together,” these were precursors to a larger tradition of ethnographic filmmaking at the CPR and National Museum. The films screened at the Town Hall recital were specifically chosen by Barbeau and Gibbon to present certain images of Indigenous and French-Canadian life. The two men’s correspondence specifically indicated they wanted to incorporate scenes of “dancing Indians” to the audience.35 Both treat their subjects as Folk, although the habitants occupy a position, as Jessup has analyzed, “closer to the Modern on the developmental scale than does the non-Western Primitive.”36 As Jessup writes, Gibbon’s suggestion and the subsequent screening of these films for the audience at Gauthier’s recital represent a significant turn in the history and commodification of ethnographic filmmaking in North America, in that they presented the work of collecting. The Town Hall recital was first among several film screenings paired with performances by Gauthier. For example, the 1928 film Nass River Indians (later split in two shorter films, Saving the Sagas, and Fish and Medicine Men) was initially intended for the National Gallery Exhibition in December of that same year, and presented in January 1928 at the Art Gallery of Toronto along with a performance by Gauthier.37 Nass River Indians was filmed in the summer of 1927 and featured scenes of Barbeau and Ernest MacMillan’s work transcribing and recording songs among the Nisga’a 33 Jessup, “Early Ethnographic Cinema,” 279. 34 ibid., 280. 35 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 20: letter from Gibbon (March 2, 1927). 36 Jessup, “Early Ethnographic Cinema,” 279. 37 Jessup, “Early Ethnographic Cinema,” 269; Jessup, Tin Cans and Machinery: Saving the Sagas and Other Stuff. Visual Anthropology 12 (1999) 76. 86 communities in British Columbia. That same summer the CPR-commissioned film Totem Land was filmed on Vancouver Island, which included scenes of Gauthier singing with George and Francine Hunt, who had served as advisors and informants for several earlier films by American anthropologists.38 3.4 Glenn’s Early Solo Career Following the CPR festivals, Glenn’s career benefited enormously from Barbeau’s lifelong artistic and professional attentions. His early (recorded) interest in her career occurred after the CPR Festival, when The Canadian Singers performed at the Peterborough Exhibition in October 1928. The group’s accompanist, Constance Hamilton, wrote to Barbeau that Glenn’s solos were well received by the audience, and that McInnes himself was also quite pleased with the performance. She reported the “delicacy and charm of Florence’s singing,” as well as her overall assessment that Glenn’s “attitude towards the folk song” was appropriate since “[Glenn] never attempted to carry them beyond their flower-like limits and obviously charmed her audience.”39 By May 1929 Barbeau was convinced of Glenn’s potential and wrote to Gibbon: “I was very glad to find out that I hadn’t been mistaken in my anticipation… No doubt Glenn will be one of the leading interpreters of folksongs in Canada.”40 In addition to providing her with access to collected folksong repertoire, Barbeau facilitated and created performance engagements for Glenn. In April 1929 she performed at a handicraft 38 Hunt had served as an advisor/informant for several earlier American anthropological films including Edward Curtis’ In the Land of the Headhunters (1914); Pliny Goddard’s expedition footage (1922); Franz Boas’ research footage (1930); Harlan Smith’s The Kwakiutl Indians of British Columbia (1923-30) Jessup, “Early Ethnographic Cinema,” 284. (footage was also filmed at the CPR festivals, including a film of “handicrafts and folksongs (1927); Habitant Festival (1928). Jessup, “Early Ethnographic Cinema,” 284. 39 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F23: letter from Constance Hamilton (n.d.). Hamilton wrote Glenn had “never sang more sweetly.” 40 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 F 24: letter to Gibbon (May 3, 1929) | B 197 F 22: letter to Gibbon (February 16, 1928): “Glenn did not sing any troubadour songs last year, inclined to sing flat when singing solo.” 87 exhibition at the Chateau Laurier (Ottawa) organized by Barbeau in conjunction with the local Arts Association. Her program, called “Classical Music and Canadian Folk Songs,” included selections by Scarlatti, J.S. Bach, Mozart and Schumann and several folksongs of the United Kingdom, and French-Canada.41 Many of Glenn’s earliest documented solo recitals consisted of both classical music and folksongs in this vein as well as performances by her accompanist, Gwendolyn Williams. Between February and April 1930 Glenn toured Canada, performing at local chapters of the Association of Canadian Clubs (A.C.C.).42 Arranged by Barbeau and Graham Spry, general secretary of the A.C.C., Glenn’s tour repertoire was selected to “promote [the] artistic, intellectual and political growth of Canada,” in order that “greater sympathy and understanding should be developed between diversified people of the dominion.”43 The language is reminiscent of Gibbon’s universalist desires for Canadian society, although Glenn’s concerts were more inclusive than Gibbon’s mosaic. Her recitals, each called “A Concert of Canadian Music,” incorporated French-Canadian, English and Indigenous music collected in Canada, and arranged by Canadian composers. 44 Glenn’s musical abilities were well received, and reviewers often commented on the national scope of her program. Saskatoon papers reported on the “artistic program of national folk songs,” from such a “talented singer, who delights 41 Glenn papers. Box 11: Arts Association of Ottawa program (April 25, 1929). 42 Glenn papers. Box 11: Toronto Evening Telegram (February 19, 1940) reports Glenn “leaves next week for tour: St. Thomas, Stratford, Ottawa, Montreal, Pacific Coast- Vancouver and Winnipeg and Western cities in between,” also mentions Moncton and Wolfwille. Based on newspaper reviews, the concerts took place: Ottawa (March 4), Kewatin (mid-March), Saskatoon (March ~18), Edmonton (March 31), Montreal (mid-April), Moncton (April 22), Ottawa (April 30) Ste Anne de la Pocatière (late April). 43 Glenn papers. Box 11: Letter from Graham Spry (Association of Canadian Clubs) to Barbeau. 44 Glenn papers. Box 11: A Concert of Canadian Music. (1930). For example: Voilà la recompense (arr. Léo-Pol Morin); Rossignolet sauvage (arr. Henri Gagnon); Si j’étais petite mère (arr. Healey Willan); A la fontaine (arr. Barbeau); The one that I love best (arr. MacMillan); Riding Song (arr. Leo Smith); Nadudu (sung unaccompanied); Haninaw (arr. Barbeau). 88 listeners with collection of French, English-Canadian and Indian songs.”45 In Ottawa, Isabel Armstrong’s column headline in The Evening Citizen reported (surely to the delight of Barbeau and Gibbon) that the Dominion’s “amazing artistic development in [the] last few years [was] strikingly demonstrated.” 46 This concert, according to Armstrong, “revealed that the dominion [had] a school of national music as distinctive as Canadian painting,” and that “like the music of other countries it finds its inspiration in the wealth of folk song.”47 3.5 Performance Styles While the repertory of Glenn and Gauthier were comparable, their performance styles, use of costumes and program notes, showcased dissimilar approaches to the music itself. Glenn maintained a separation between herself as a performer (dramatic though she was) and her repertoire, whereas Gauthier viewed herself as an expert in, and at times expressed a sense of belonging to, the cultures whose music she performed. Gauthier’s authenticity as a performer of folksong was derived from this expert status, whereas Glenn interpreted repertoire that was considered authentic due to it having been provided by museum experts. Reviews from early performances emphasized Glenn’s classically trained voice: “Florence Glenn sang beautifully…her work was well-nigh perfect. Above all her enunciation was splendidly clear;” “Florence Glenn sang an aria from the Magic Flute with smooth, appealing intonation.” 48 Subsequent reviews reported Glenn was a “lovely mezzo-soprano voice of pure, true tone and sympathetic quality,” and continually 45 Star-Phoenix review (Saskatoon: March 18, 1930). 46 Isabel Armstrong, The Evening Citizen review (Ottawa: March 5, 1930). 47 Isabel Armstrong, The Evening Citizen review (Ottawa: March 5, 1930). 48 Glenn papers, Box 11: Toronto The Evening Telegram article (April 27, 1926); Glenn papers, Box 11: Toronto Saturday Night article (May 1, 1926). 89 emphasized the dramatic quality of her performances: “to her singing gift she brings a graceful histrionic talent which makes her work the more engaging.”49 Glenn’s dramatic tendencies, according to the Evening Telegram (Toronto), “[asserted] themselves in her singing, possibly without her consciousness, certainly without any appearance of conscious effort.”50 As her solo repertoire branched into the presentation of French-Canadian and Indigenous songs, the dramatic quality of Glenn’s work was often attributed to the “racial quality” of the song itself. In accordance with the belief that there could be characteristics identified within and shared by an entire ethnic group, as expressed in The Canadian Mosaic, Glenn’s reviewers described her performances as embodying the perceived qualities of the repertoire. Since the “racial quality” could be reproduced in order to mimic the group, in the absence of native French-Canadians, or Indigenous people singing their own songs Glenn was subjectively viewed as an authentic substitute. One Moncton reporter wrote, “[Glenn] presented the racial quality, rather than the individual. She was not one Indian, she was all Indians. And with the last note always quite unconsciously, she stepped back into her Florentine picture frame.”51 As much was said in the Edmonton papers, as reporters praised Glenn as a “clever artist” who provided a charming, “vivid interpretation.”52 The designation of Glenn as a folksong “interpreter,” a term consistently used to refer to her practice, relied on this sort of understanding of both the music and its provenance. 49 Glenn papers, Box 11: Toronto The Evening Telegram article (November 26, 1929). 50 Glenn papers. Box 11: Toronto The Evening Telegram review (November 26, 1929). 51 Glenn papers. Box 11: Toronto Evening Telegram review (November 26, 1929). 52 Glenn papers. Box 11: Edmonton Bulletin review (April 1, 1930) | Edmonton Journal review (April 1, 1930). 90 In comparison, reviews of Gauthier’s recitals emphasized her expert status, a designation that featured prominently in her program notes, as she considered her performances a continuation of contemporary museum work. Gauthier presented herself as an expert in the field of ethnography, an ambassador of Canadian anthropology, and her programs are full of quotes endorsing this expertise, for example: “Miss Gaultier knows her subject from first hand study…Her voice is a rich, vibrant mezzo-soprano, with tones carefully graduated and of even timbre. Yet for all the polished beauty of her singing, Miss Gaultier has preserved the essential naiveté of the folk songs…Devoid of extraneous musical flourishes…these songs show the customary qualities of folk music the world round. But they also possess their own, neither English nor French, but definitely and clearly a product of the New World and its vast wildernesses.” - The Christian Science Monitor (February 16, 1927) (included in Gauthier’s Town Hall Program, April 1927)53 Gauthier included much the same descriptions when she performed in Paris (1938), calling herself “an artist who has devoted herself to the study of all manifestations of the cultural life of her country's native and white populations.”54 She also included a description of her fieldwork: “[Gauthier] has undertaken painstaking research, spending long periods of time in native “reserves” and in the most diverse regions of the Canadian countryside.”55 This premise of expertise was possible due to Gauthier’s connection with Barbeau and his co-worker, Diamond Jenness, who provided her with transcribed field recordings from Indigenous and French-Canadian communities. Notable contacts who added 53 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 16: Gauthier concert program (April 8, 1927). 54 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B196 F24: Chants Eskimo et Indiens du Canada (March 26, 1938). “Une artiste qui s’est consacrée à l’étude toutes les manifestations de la vie culturelle des populations indigenes et blanches de son pays.” 55 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B196 F24: Chants Eskimo et Indiens du Canada (March 26, 1938). “Elle a fait de patientes recherches, passant de longues périodes dans les “réserves’ indigenes et dans les regions les plus diverses de la campagne canadienne, partageant la vie quotidienne des habitants, les observant, conversant avec eux dans leur proper langue, gagnant leur confiance par sa chaude sympathie. C’est ainsi qu’elle a pu relever tout leur folk-lore: chants, danses chantées ou chant mimes, contes, legends, mystères, etc.” 91 legitimacy to her claimed status included Walter Damrosch, director of the New York Symphony Orchestra, who commended Gauthier’s “fascinating renditions” of both French-Canadian and “Eskimo Indian chants,” and the Arctic explorer Viljhamur Stefansson who was also based in New York City.56 The promotional material of the CPR festivals produced by Gibbon also highlighted Gauthier’s credentials as a classically-trained performer, followed by a slightly exaggerated version of her experience as an opera singer. Gibbon extoled Gauthier’s “pioneer work in the domain of folksong” and her dedicated language study in pursuit of her career as interpreter of “Canadian folksong.”57 In keeping with her self-identification as an expert and what she referred to as a “love of science,” Gauthier strove to educate her audiences through the use of verbose concert materials, which almost without exception provided pages of notes explaining the significance of the songs she performed.58 These programs are an important testimony of Gauthier’s own perception of the music she performed, and the cultures represented at her recitals. On the whole, Gauthier’s conceptions of Indigenous and French-Canadian music were in keeping with the typifying ethnography of the early 1900s, and though she provided audiences with more information, Gauthier conveyed the same problematic distinction made by Barbeau and his colleagues between past and present cultures as more and less “authentic.” Whereas Gauthier’s programs included similar, if not identical, essays for many of her recitals, including at the Town Hall and the CPR festivals, Glenn’s recital programs varied with each performance and generally only included the names of songs 56 Slominska, “Interpreting success and failure,” 95. 57 CP General promotional program (May 20-22, 1927). 58 Slominska, “Interpreting success and failure,” 156. 92 performed and the collection. Both Glenn and Gauthier’s recitals presented French- Canadian music in identical fashion when compared to the CPR festivals; as a musical inheritance from Europe of courtly songs transformed by rural peasants in Canada. Gauthier’s programs emphasized the historical connection between France and Canada: “Although many of the thousands of chansons sung today in Canada date back to the court musicians of Henri IV and Louis XIII… they have become true folksongs in the lips of country folk.”59 Reviews of Glenn’s performances reflected the same patronizing language of the CPR festivals, as they described the “Quaint airs of French-Canada,” and the “Indian folk songs,” that pleased as “Legend in music.”60 The image of French- Canadian culture as an oasis of simplicity, and that of Indigenous cultures as “primitive,” prevailed. Gauthier’s programs were divided in sections, with broad headings such as “Northern Alaskan and Copper Eskimo Songs,” or “West-Coast, British Columbia and Vancouver Island Nootka Indian Songs.” Each umbrella heading was followed by an essay describing the cultural ‘type.’ For example, two pages of information precedes Gauthier’s repertoire list, and included the following generalized explanation: “When the Eskimo returns from his hunting-ground at the close of the summer… he often weaves the story of his adventures into a song.”61 Gauthier also provided information concerning musical traditions, for example “The Eskimos never tune their drums to any particular note,” as well as the provenance of the materials: “In 1910 Vilhjalmur Stefansson went to re-explore this forgotten region.”62 59 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 16: Gauthier concert program (April 8, 1927). 60 Glenn papers. Box 11: Evening Telegram article (Toronto, February 19, 1930). 61 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 16: Gauthier concert program (April 8, 1927). 62 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 16: Gauthier concert program (April 8, 1927). 93 Each broad heading of musical traditions was further divided into subsections, distinguished by the specific community from which the songs were collected, and the “type” of song. For example, the “West Coast, British Columbia and Vancouver Island Nootka Indian Songs” category included songs of the Nuu-chah-nulth, Ktunaxa, and Dakelh peoples (referred to respectively as Nootka, Kootenay, and Carrier in the literature).63 Songs were grouped according to “type,” for example, a series of “Weather Incantations,” could be followed by a series of “Dance Songs,” all under the subsection heading of “Copper Eskimo.” Groups of song “types” were also preceded by an explanation, for example, a section of four weather incantations collected as part of the Canadian Arctic Expedition (1913-1916) was introduced with the following statement: “Weather incantations are mostly sung by the “Shaman” (Medicine Man). A shaman’s powers are due to the control he presumably exercises over certain spirits…Innumerable stories are current that the shamans possess these powers. No native entertains the slightest doubt as to the literal truth of every incident.”64 3.6 Costumes Over the course of their careers, both Gauthier and Glenn costumed themselves in their recitals to some extent, which served to amplify the separate nature of their repertoire from the Western classical tradition. In her solo recitals Glenn costumed herself not as The Canadian Singers in their Renaissance wear, or in museum artifacts, but in simple clothes that could easily transition from one group of songs to the next. Subtle wardrobe changes accompanied repertoire changes, for example, adding a shawl to her costume when transitioning from French-Canadian to Indigenous songs. There is no record, however, that Glenn continued to perform in costume when in Europe during the 1930s. Her publicity and promotional materials in the collection are exclusively of the 63 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 16: Gauthier concert program (April 8, 1927). 64 CMH/MHC Barbeau fonds. B 347 F 16: Gauthier concert program (April 8, 1927). 94 singer in formal wear. Several pictures of Glenn in costume were published in the Toronto Evening Telegram, and have been reprinted in Keillor’s 2004 article: “Marius Barbeau and Musical Performers.” By contrast, in her promotional materials Gauthier was consistently portrayed in costume. Advertisements for the Town Hall concert in the New York Times consisted of four lines of text, one of which read “Song recital in costume.”65 Other advertisements for the same concert included a pencil sketch illustration of a woman sitting at a spinning wheel, cueing the audience for Gauthier’s presentation of French-Canadian chansons specifically.66 The cover page of a promotional pamphlet for the 1927 Quebec City festival was almost entirely taken up by a portrait of Gauthier in costume sitting at a spinning wheel. Gauthier’s preference was to have “authentic clothes,” or museum artifacts (clothing) from the communities whose music she performed. According to Slominska, Gauthier believed her costumes imbued her performances with an added authority.67 As Gauthier considered herself something of a musical ambassador, she believed it was the responsibility of the National Museum to provide her with appropriate concert-wear.68 65 Text advertisement, The New York Times (April 6, 1927) (April 7, 1927). 66 Text advertisement, The New York Times (March 27, 1927) (April 3, 1927). 67 Slominska, “Interpreting Success and Failure,” 213. 68 Slominska, “Interpreting Success and Failure,” 99. 95 Over the course of her documented career, Gauthier was provided with artifacts from several sources, including the (American) Museum of Natural History and the (Canadian) National Museum.69 Prior to her appearance at the 1927 Quebec City festival Gauthier was in communication with Barbeau and Diamond Jenness of the National Museum in order to procure a costume more to her liking. Initially Barbeau relayed the impossibility of allowing a museum “specimen” to leave the collection, however a few weeks before the festival Jenness wrote to Gauthier with news she would be able to “appear in all the glory of an Indian princess.”70 He also specified the “West Coast costume” would suit Gauthier’s repertoire of “Nootka songs, Carrier and Tahltan, that is to say all the 69 Slominska, “Interpreting Success and Failure,” 96. Clark Wissler from the American Museum of Natural History lent Gauthier costumes as well. 70 CMH/MHC Gaultier coll. B 645 F 1: letter from Jenness (May 6, 1927). Fig. 2: Juliette Gauthier, Quebec City, 1927 CP Archives NS31325 96 Indian songs you are singing.”71 The museum made an exception allowing Gauthier to borrow the clothing, even clearing the articles for international travel to the United States. 3.7 Repertoire The use of costumes facilitated a link between the music and its broader context. As one reporter for the Montreal Daily Star, H.P. Bell, wrote of Gauthier’s recital repertoire, though it was “not given by the people to whom they belong,” he believed Gauthier had made a “close imitation…with the help of native dresses.”72 As Slominska writes, Gauthier’s tried “to recreate the songs’ original context in a concert setting;” this approximation of “original context” was provided via visual methods, or costumes and stage settings, in order to complement the unaccompanied performances.73 For the Town Hall recital, painted backgrounds of totem poles and aurora borealis were commissioned from the well-known portraitist, Langdon Kihn, who had also provided the illustrations for Indian Days of the Canadian Rockies.74 Gauthier sang in front of these sets for several of her future recitals, including the CPR festival.75 In order to perform as the “original” singers, Gauthier preferred to sing unaccompanied folksongs collected by the National Museum. Vilhjalmur Stefansson is quoted in Gauthier’s Town Hall program as follows: “you rendered the songs exactly as if the Eskimos themselves were singing. So far as I know, this is the first time that Eskimo songs have been sung just as they are instead of being merely used as the basis or “inspiration” for some sort of elaboration.”76 71 CMH/MHC Gaultier coll. B 645 F 1: letter from Jenness (May 18, 1927). 72 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 346: H.P. Bell, Montreal Daily Star (May 28, 1927). 73 Slominska, “Interpreting Success and Failure,” 92. 74 The New York Times, review (April 9, 1927). 75 Including performances at the Chateau Laurier (June 1927); Little Theatre in Ottawa (February 10, 1928); Art Gallery of Toronto (January 25, 1928). As late as June 1932 the screens were mentioned in Gibbon and Barbeau’s correspondence in connection with the upcoming Imperial Conference Reception (July 1932). 76 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 347 F 16: Gauthier concert program (April 8, 1927). 97 Over the course of planning for the Town Hall recital, correspondence between Gauthier, Gibbon and Barbeau indicated differences of opinion, largely rooted in this basic premise regarding the purpose of collected folksong. Gauthier did not consider the music as inspiration for any “higher” art forms, and thus did not appreciate the arrangements prepared by so many of the composers at the CPR festivals. Gauthier typically performed repertoire supplied by Barbeau from the National Museum collection, often accompanying herself with a small hand-drum. Gibbon, however, was concerned that her repertoire, when combined with the unaccompanied performance style, gave the “impression of sameness.”77 Barbeau and Gibbon believed that while for New York audiences unaccompanied performances remained a novelty, the piano had not worn out its welcome in Quebec City, where unaccompanied singing was less a novelty, and they urged Gauthier to reconsider her performance style, both for the Town Hall recital and the festival itself.78 This lead to a compromise between the three with regards to Gauthier’s French- Canadian repertoire, and at the Town Hall recital she performed arrangements by Marion Bauer, accompanied by Alfred Gietzen on viola. At the 1927 festival, Gauthier performed her French-Canadian chansons accompanied by Milton Blackstone on the viola in the same arrangements, and the following year she sang a group of French Renaissance songs arranged and accompanied by Jean Beck.79 There was no compromise made with regards to the Indigenous repertoire. 77 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 196 F 24: letter from Gauthier to Barbeau (February 7, 1927); letter from Gibbon (March 14, 1927). 78 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 196 F 24: letter from Barbeau (March 24, 1927). 79 CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Friday evening program (May 20, 1927); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Saturday matinee program (May 26, 1928); CP Misc. Festivals & Ski Trains: Saturday evening program (May 26, 1928). See Appendix A. 98 Glenn’s French-Canadian repertoire in her early solo recitals comprised songs of the Barbeau collection, arranged by a variety of Canadian composers, including Léo-Pol Morin, H. Gagnon, Willan and Barbeau himself. Unlike Gauthier’s usual program, Glenn sang English-Canadian songs of the East Coast on several occasions, arranged by MacMillan, as well as classical repertoire. Her Indigenous repertoire selections were performed either as arrangements or “with a drum in the Indian manner.”80 3.8 Concluding Remarks The solo careers of both Juliette Gauthier and Florence Glenn were not dissimilar; each sang folksongs, attended the CPR festivals at Quebec City, wore costumes and was supplied with repertoire by Barbeau. Both Gauthier and Glenn’s respective recitals encouraged the mentality of modern French-Canadian and Indigenous cultures as “inauthentic” through concert literature, and as evidenced in concert reviews. However, each artist’s stylistic interpretation of an “authentic” performance of “Canadian folksong” varied slightly; Gauthier due to her self-defined expertise preferred to perform unarranged collected music, while Glenn performed a variety of arrangements and repertoire over the course of her career. Influenced by Barbeau’s subjective definitions of “authenticity,” Glenn and Gauthier’s recitals can be read as a musical component of the nationalist legacy of English Canada that aimed to identify and promote a Canadian national identity. These same impulses that lead to the organization of the CPR festivals and Gibbon’s fantasy of 80 Glenn papers. Box 11. Canadian Clubs program (1930). Voilà la recompense (nocturne) arr. Morin; Les deux pailles d’orge (danse song) arr. Morin; Rossignolet sauvage (love song) arr. H. Gagnon; Si j’étais petite mere (lullaby) arr. Willan; A la fontaine (fuller song) arr. Barbeau. The One that I love best (Folk song of Nova Scotia); One Morning in May (Irish, from the Gatineau, near Ottawa), The Maid on the Shore (from Nova Scotia) all three arr. MacMillan. She is Mine (Skeena River, Northern BC) arr. Barbeau; Alaeena (Skeena River Lullaby) and Riding Song (Thompson River, BC) both arr. Leo Smith; Nadudu (Lullaby from the Nass River, BC) and Hano (dirge from the Nass) both performed unaccompanied; Haninaw (Skeena River Love Song) arr. Barbeau. 99 The Canadian Mosaic allowed for both women to have relatively successful careers as promotors of “Canadian folksong.” 100 Conclusion As Gibbon and Barbeau organized the Quebec City festivals, they were influenced by Anglophone nationalist sentiments, and the desire to define a unified Canadian identity. The narrow vision of the 1920s “nationalist network” was further delineated in Gibbon’s 1938 publication, which presented the widely accepted, albeit problematic, metaphor of the “Canadian Mosaic.” Stemming from these questions of identity was the concern that Canada’s arts were not on par with the nation’s political development; inspired by the European construct of the “Folk,” Barbeau and Gibbon made a concerted attempt to identify and celebrate qualities of “Canadian-ness” in music by encouraging a national school of composition based on French-Canadian folksong. The idea that a nation, and particularly one as expansive as Canada, could have a single unified musical practice denies the vastly diverse realities of its residents. Similarly, attempts to narrate an all-encompassing national “history,” musical or otherwise, engage in self-deception and ultimately fall short. Nevertheless, national narratives, subjectively constructed and politically motivated as they may be, can serve as a powerful tool to unite (or divide) a people. One of the primary motivations of this thesis has been to present a critical reading of the Quebec City festivals (1927, 1928) and other folksong performances, in order that they may be seen as instruments for the dissemination of nationalist sentiments. The CPR festivals relied on static representations of Indigenous and French- Canadian cultures in order to present models of “authentic” music for the purposes of a national cause. This subjectively defined “indigeneity” impacted each aspect of the festivals, from repertoire and performer selections to how individual performances were 101 introduced in the concert literature. Performances at the 1927 festival by Gauthier and Indigenous artists illustrated the particularly fraught dynamics of colonizer and colonized, and the ramifications of such definitions of “authenticity” for persons of the community deemed “inauthentic.” A key component of the musical narrative promoted by Barbeau and Gibbon was the connection between French artsong and French-Canadian folksong. Throughout the festival programming and CPR advertising, physical and ephemeral aspects of Quebec (City) were highlighted in order to emphasize the connection with Europe. Many of the performances of Florence Glenn and The Music Makers/The Canadian Singers featured in-depth explanations describing the early French-Canadian settlers’ familiarity with French artsong. The performance of the thirteenth-century musical play Le Jeu de Robin et de Marion paralleled Barbeau and Gibbon’s extension of Canada’s (music) history to the French Middle Ages. Other musical productions performed the idealized narrative of a cooperative historical settlement of Canada at the 1928 festival: L’Ordre de bon-temps, Madame de Repentigny et sa ‘manufacture,’ and Les Forestiers et Voyageurs. Again, this narrative presented a selective image of colonization, and of Canadian society. The E.W. Beatty composition contest defined Canadian songs as those based exclusively on French-Canadian folksongs, prescribing “Canadian” in a manner which contradicted the demographic realities of the nation, and excluding the music of the land’s original inhabitants. Nonetheless, these “Canadian” works were thought to encapsulate the musical “essence” of the nation. 102 It was the presentation of “Canadian” music, narrowly-defined and economically- motived, which lead Barbeau to write Gibbon in 1929 that he had “ceased to think constructively of the Quebec festivals,” since his own “plans were deferred on account of what [Gibbon] considered bigger things.”1 “Bigger things” no doubt refers to Gibbon’s preoccupation with pleasing the crowd as a member of the tourism industry, which had “little to do with the surest foundation of success,” defined by Barbeau as the “artistic presentation of our Canadian folk songs and folk crafts.”2 The festivals, Barbeau wrote, had been a “considerable waste of effort and material resources to little or no purpose” and the thought of future festivals at Quebec City evoked a “deep feeling of revulsion.”3 Glenn’s willingness to perform “artistic presentations” of folksongs provided by Barbeau no doubt endeared her to him; in contrast, as Lynda Jessup writes, Barbeau was critical of Gauthier’s performances since she had not “done very much” with the materials he had provided. 4 Throughout her career, Glenn continued to incorporate repertoire into her recitals; after her time in Europe (1930-1938) Glenn performed arrangements by French composer Marguerite Béclard d’Harcourt (1884-1964) and included a wide variety of folksongs in her concerts. In contrast, and despite the lack of support from Barbeau, Gauthier continued her presentations of folksongs as if in their “original context,” adding to her repertoire only slightly over the course of her career. After relocating to Ottawa in 1931, as Slominska writes, Gauthier’s typical recitals were 1 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 L 24: Letter from Barbeau (May 7, 1929). 2 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 L 24: Letter from Barbeau (May 7, 1929). 3 CMH/MHC Barbeau coll. B 197 L 24: Letter from Barbeau (May 7, 1929). Evidently this tension was apparent to Gibbon; he replied the next day saying he was aware Barbeau had “felt strain last year and had lost [his] enthusiasm.” 4 Jessup, “Early Ethnographic Cinema,” 292. 103 less of a novelty, and the majority of her later work involved “handicraft promotion” and children’s concerts.5 The CPR festivals at Quebec City of 1927 and 1928 were unique; Gibbon and Barbeau’s close collaboration would not be repeated, and the group of artists and composers would not reconvene in such a manner. Altogether, the CPR festivals, and the featured performances of both Glenn and Gauthier’s careers illustrate the complex ways in which Canadian music was conceived, disseminated and mediated during this period focused on the development of a Canadian artistic identity. 5 Slominska, “Interpreting Success and Failure,” 111, 114-116, 120. Gauthier traveled to Europe as delegate for the Paris Exposition (1937), gave a lecture tour of the Canadian Clubs (1940) and in her later years (1949-1954) worked at the Gatineau Park Museum as a live-in costumed interpreter who presented visitors with traditional arts and crafts. ! ! 104! Bibliography Archival Collections Canadian Museum of History/Musée Canadien de L’Histoire (CMH/MCH) Gatineau, QC Fonds Marius Barbeau Fonds Juliette Gaultier Florence Glenn papers: Currently stored at the CMH, pending acquisition. Canadian Pacific Corporate Archives (CP) Windsor Station, Montreal, QC Primary Literature Barbeau, Marius. “Save Art of Coast Indians.” Vancouver Daily Province (October 22, 1926). ____. “An Indian Paradise Lost.” Canadian Geographical Journal 1, no. 2 (1930): 133- 148. ____. Backgrounds in Canadian Art. Ottawa: Royal Society of Canada, 1941. Barbeau, Marius and Edward Sapir. Folk songs of French Canada. New Haven: Yale University Press, 1925. Beck, Jean. 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Smith, Antonia. “‘Cement for the Canadian Mosaic’: Performing Canadian Citizenship in the Work of John Murray Gibbon.” Race/Ethnicity: Multidisciplinary Global Contexts 1, no. 1 (2007): 37-60. Smith, Laurajane. The Uses of Heritage. Hoboken: Taylor and Francis, 2006. Thompson, John Herd and Allen Seager. Canada 1922-1939: Decades of Discord. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1985. Vipond, Mary. “The National Network: English Canada’s Intellectuals and Artists in the 1920s.” Canadian Review of Studies in Nationalism 7, no. 1 (Spring 1980): 32-52. Willems-Braun, Bruce. “Buried Epistemologies: The Politics of Nature in (Post)colonial British Columbia.” Annals of the Association of American Geographers 87, no. 1 (1997): 3-31. Wingfield, Christopher. “‘Feeling the Vibes: Dealing with Intangible Heritage’—An Introduction.” ‘Feeling the Vibes: Dealing with Intangible Heritage’: Papers from the Annual Conference of the Museum Ethnographers Group.” Special issue, Journal of Museum Ethnography, no. 19 (March 2007): 9-20. ! ! 112! Appendix A: Festival Schedules *Schedules have been transcribed as printed Folk Song and Handicraft Festival: May 20-22, 1927 Chateau Frontenac, Quebec City * indicates lyrics provided in program First Concert (Friday Evening) May 20, 1927. Chateau Frontenac. 1.1 Rodolphe Plamondon In Troubadour Songs of the Eleventh and Twelfth Centuries Assisted by Cédia Brault Acc. Hart House Quartet Stage Settings James Crockart 1.2 Les Chanteurs de Saint-Dominique In choral renderings of chansons 1.3 Philéas Bédard Folksinger of Saint-Rémi de Napierville 1.4 Cédia Brault in Canadian chansons Acc. Harold Eustace Key 1.5 Johnny Boivin Champion violinneux of Canada 1.6 Jacques Garneau Champion folk dancer of Quebec 1.7 Juliette Gaultier de la Vérendrye In chansons of French Canada Acc. on viola by Milton Blackstone 1.8 J. Campbell McInnes In chansons of Old France Acc. by Dr. Ernest MacMillan ! ! 113! Saturday 8 am. Fully choral High Mass in the Basilica, followed by Canticles sung by La Petite Maitrise “La Petite Maitrise de Notre-Dame,” 40 children, under the direction of M. l’abbé de Smet, organist Henri Gagnon. Introit “Salve Sancta Parens” Kyrie, Gloria, Sanctus, Agnus Dei from Mass X “Alme Pater” after Mass: Angelus de Mai Abbé Brun, Harm. Mixed voices by Gagnon, Chansons populaires du Canada (1865) Le Voici l’Agneau si doux popular French-Canadian canticle D’etre enfant de Marie Harm. Mixed voices by Gagnon, Chansons populaires du Canada (1865) Second Concert (Saturday Afternoon) May 21, 1927. Chateau Frontenac. 2.1 Bytown Troubadours Charles Marchand, Emile Boucher, Fortunat Champagne, Miville Belleau Youpe, Youpe sur la rivière!/ Youpe, Youpe, river along!* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), arr. Pierre Gautier from harm. by Oscar O’Brien, transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Ah! Si mon moine voulait danser/ If my old top were a dancing man* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), arr. Pierre Gautier from harm. by Oscar O’Brien, transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) C’est l’aviron qui nous mène en haut/ It is the oar that impels us on* Coll. E.Z. Massicotte, arr. Pierre Gautier from harm. by Oscar O’Brien, transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Et moi je m’enfouiyais/ And I would flee away* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), arr. Pierre Gautier from harm. by Oscar O’Brien, transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Marianna s’en va-t-au Moulin/ Marianne wanders to the mill* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), arr. Pierre Gautier from harm. by Oscar O’Brien, transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Le laboureur/ The labourer* Maurice Morisset, arr. Pierre Gautier from harm. by Oscar O’Brien, transl. Gibbon ! ! 114! 2.2 Vincent Ferrier de Repentigny Folk-singer of Montreal Envoyons d’l’avant, nos gens!* Coll. E.Z. Massicotte N’y a rien de plus charmant que la bergère aux champs… Pastourelle Passant par Paris…Elle a quinze brins, ma ceinture… Chanson de métiers 2.3 Rondes Enfantines First Series Children’s Rounds and Singing Games Organized by Madame Arthur Duquet of Quebec Solo: Louise Leclerc Acc. Cécile Stafford Costumes of 1860 Children Rounds/Danses Rondes 1. Le pont d’Avignon 2. La petite bergère Solo Louise Leclerc 3. Il pleut bergère Chorus Music collected and harmonized by Ad. Gauvin, Paris, France With the exception of “Avoine, Avoine” and “Laquelle marierons-nous” Accompaniment due to Miss Berthe O’Sullivan Sur le pont d’Avignon* Savez-vous planter des choux* Il était une petite bergère* Solo Louise Leclerc J’ai du bon tabac* 2.4 Lorette Indians including Caroline Grosbois, Madame Daniel Grosbois, Alice Sioui, Madame Abraham Sioui, Madame Camille Vincent, Michel Sioui, Albert Sioui and Son. Huron Indian songs and dancer (Lorette group): Yanikoya Dance Yawenosa Dance Wenuya Chant de guerre, de la découverte et Yukanuwa (II) with Albert Sioui and Son Yaweyawe Women’s dance Nikoya Snake dance with Albert Sioui and Son ! ! 115! 2.5 Germaine Le Bel Acc. Alfred La Liberté Je voudrais bien me marier* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. La Liberté. Mon père m’a donné à choisir/ My father lets me have my will* Coll. Barbeau, Harm. La Liberté, Transl. Gibbon Et moi, je m’en passé/ But they pass me over* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. La Liberté, Transl. Gibbon V’la l’bon vent/ H’llo good win* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), transl. Gibbon Mariez-moi, ma petite maman/ Now marry me, O my little mama* Coll. Barbeau, Harm. La Liberté, transl. Gibbon • 10$ prize offered for a singable English version of Je voudrais bien me marier; Judges- Harold Eustace Key, J. Campbell McInnes, Henry Button; send manuscripts by June 1st to J.M.Gibbon 2.6 Rondes Enfantines (second series) Children Rounds/Danses Rondes 4. Avoine, avoine* 5. Laquelle marierons-nous?* 6. Meunier, tu dors* 7. Savez-vous planter des choux 8. J’ai du bon tabac Solo: Louise Leclerc 9. Frère Jacques* Third Concert (Saturday Evening) May 21, 1927. Chateau Frontenac. 3.1 Hart House Quartet Geza de Kresz (1st Violin); Harry Adaskin (2nd Violin); Milton Blackstone (Viola); Boris Hambourg (Cello) Paraphrases on two chansons ⋅ Joli coeur de rose ⋅ Dans Paris il y-t-une brume Specially composed by Leo Smith for the festival Sketches based on ⋅ Notre Seigneur en pauvre ⋅ A Saint Malo beau port de mer Ernest MacMillan Sonata for cello and piano based on Dans les prisons de Nantes (1st Mov) Specially composed by Oscar O’Brien for the festival (O’Brien at the piano) ! ! 116! 3.2 The Music Maker Singers Betty Gemmill, Florence Glenn, Margaret Stephens, Margery Baldwin, Doreen Hillary, Grace Johns, Joy Denton Kennedy Under the direction of J. Campbell McInnes Si j’ay esté vostre amy/ If I have been a friend* Clement Jannequin, transl. Gibbon Ce moys de may/This month of may* Clement Jannequin, transl. Gibbon Allons au vert bocage/ Come to the greenwood* Guillaume de Costelay, transl. Gibbon A toi, mon Dieu/ T’ward Thee, my God* Claude Goudinel, transl. Gibbon 3.3 François Saint-Laurent Folksinger of Sainte-Anne des Monts, Gaspé Les trois canards blancs…Marions-la Work song La belle Lisette chantait l’autre jour Love song Je ne donnerai pas ma fille à un petit couturier…la touptetoup Dance song 3.4 Joseph Ouellette Folksinger of Sainte-Anne des Monts, Gaspé Petit coeur, consolez-vous!* Coll. Barbeau C’était par un bon Vendredi, nous avons quitté Lisbonne Ballad of the sea Le quinze de mars l’année dernière Canadian ballad 3.5 Jeanne Dusseau Acc. Mrs. Russell Ma fille, veux-tu un bouquet?/ Child! do you want a nosegay?* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Arthur Somervell, transl. Harold Boulton (Twelve French Canadian Folk Songs) Margoton va-t à l’iau/ Gabrielle at the well* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Somervell, transl. Harold Boulton (Twelve French Canadian Folk Songs) Jeanneton prit sa faucille/ Jeanneton took her sickle* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Somervell, transl. Harold Boulton (Twelve French Canadian Folk Songs) Le jaloux/ The jealous husband* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Somervell, transl. Harold Boulton (Twelve French Canadian Folk Songs) Le marchand de velours/The velvet merchant* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Somervell, transl. Harold Boulton (Twelve French Canadian Folk Songs) La petite galiote/ The little ship* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Somervell, transl. Harold ! ! 117! Boulton (Twelve French Canadian Folk Songs) 3.6 Ensemble of Spinners and Folk Singers Mme Jean-Baptiste Leblond Voila ma journée faite Lire lanlire Mme Jean Bouchard Susanne s’en va-t-au moulin Work song Mme Leblond M’en vas à la fontaine Spinning song Mme Bouchard C’est la belle Madeleine, un jour s’y promenant Ballad Phileas Bedard M’en revenant de Chateauguay Work song 3.7 J. Campbell McInnes acc. Ernest MacMillan Plus Matin que la lune/ Ere yet the moon had faded* Coll. Barbeau, harm. MacMillan, Transl. Gibbon La prisonnière à la tour/ The prisoned maid in the tower* Coll. Barbeau, harm. MacMillan, transl. Gibbon Lisette* Coll. Barbeau, harm. MacMillan, transl. Gibbon Voici le printemps/In the gay spring time* Coll. Barbeau, harm. MacMillan, transl. Constance Hamilton Le long de la mer jolie/Along on the tide so bonny* Coll. Barbeau, harm. MacMillan, transl. Gibbon Fourth Concert (Sunday Afternoon) May 22, 1927. Chateau Frontenac. 4.1 Juliette Gaultier de la Vérendrye “Northern Alaskan and Copper Eskimo Songs” Collected by Diamond Jenness Transcriptions of Helen Roberts Collected on the Stefansson Arctic Expedition for the National Museum of Canada Stage Setting by Langdon Kihn Songs of Northern Alaska Eskimos Song Aksiatak Ai Ya Yanga Sleeping song Composed by Colville River native The Seal-Poke* Cat’s cradle chant Sung by children all along the Arctic coast of Alaska Sparrow Song* Children’s game song Unknown composer Song of Asetsak* Homesick song Composed by Asetsak, a Point Hope Eskimo ! ! 118! Songs of the Copper Eskimos Dance Song (Aton)* Dolphin and Union Straits. Said to be very ancient-Stone Age Sung by Avrana, a Puivlik man Lullaby or Old Chant* Sung by Kaneyok, a Puivlik girl Dance Song (Pisik)* Sung by Aksiatak-Anoahognik man An Old Song Weather Incantation* Against evil spirits Sung by Kaneyok, a Puivlik girl Weather Incantation* Sung by Kaneyok, a Puivlik girl An Incantation for healing the sick* Sung by Hakungrak, a Puivlik woman Dance Song (Pisik)* Unfinished song Sung by Sinsiak, relating a visit to his friends Interpretations by Constance Lindsay Skinner from “Songs of the Coast Dwellers” Eskimo Dance Song* Incantation (Eskimo)* Incantation (Eskimo)* 4.2 Lorette Indians Soloist Madame Camille Vincent Religious songs Jesous Ahatonnia— Yaste Alonditsanwe* (Jésus est né), French translation Ernest Myrand Aweoton Dia Awehan Otendoton Canticle to Virgin Indian dances Gongaboni Algonkin song Wekaya-waninonhay Dance around the kettle 4.3 Juliette Gaultier de la Vérendrye “West Coast, British Columbia and Vancouver Island Nootka Indian Songs” Collected by Dr. Edward Sapir Transcriptions of Helen Roberts Recorded for the National Museum of Canada Collected by Diamond Jenness Recorded by James Tait Transcribed by Barbeau Stage Setting by Langdon Kihn ! ! 119! “Songs of the Nootka, Carrier, and Kootenay Indians” Black Bear Chant* Version from Songs of the Coast Dwellers by Constance Lindsay Skinner Tama Song* Red-headed woodpecker and the Thunderbird Nootka Indian Lullaby* (Privilege Song) Nootka Indian Song Nootka Lullaby* By Constance Lindsay Skinner from Songs of the Coast Dwellers (Another version as sung by the Mother)* Game Song Kootenay Indian Parting Song* Kootenay Indian Parting Song-Kootenay* By Constance Lindsay Skinner from Songs of the Coast Dwellers 4.4 Rodolphe Plamondon acc. Madeleine Comtois Petit rocher/O little rock* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. Geoffrey O’Hara, Transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Un Canadien errant/ From his Canadian home* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), Transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Bouton de rose* Variant of the well-known chanson “A la Claire fontaine” as sung in France, harm. Gustave Michaels. From “Chansons Anciens du Pays de France” La belle Françoise* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. Vuillermoz Cécilia* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. Émile Vuillermoz Rondel* De Thibaut de Champagne, music by Henri Gagnon ! ! 120! Fifth Concert (Sunday Evening) May 22, 1927. Chateau Frontenac. 5.1 Charles Marchand acc. Oscar O’Brien En roulant ma boule roulant/On, roll on, my ball I roll on* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. O’Brien, Transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Au bois du rossignolet/ In haunts of the nightingale* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. O’Brien, Transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Dans tous les cantons/ In all the country round* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. O’Brien, Transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Boum Badiboum* Coll. Marchand, harm. O’Brien, Transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Hier, sur le pont d’Avignon/ There on the bridge at Avignon* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. O’Brien, Transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Les Raftsmen/ The Raftmen* Coll. E.Z. Massicotte, Harm. O’Brien, Transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) 5.2 The Music Maker Singers in Seventeenth Century Brunettes and Chansons of Old France (Singing airs that were probably familiar to some of the early settlers in Canada— under the direction of J. Campbell McInnes) Acc. Mrs. L.A. Hamilton (5.3) Introduced by Old French Dance Music of the 16th and 17th centuries, arranged and played by the Hart House Quartet (Quartet repertoire not listed) Group of songs taken from “Echos du temps passé” harmonized by J.B. Wekerlin Cette Anne si belle/Anne, this Anne so comely* Pierre Guedron, Transl. Gibbon Ils s’en vont, ces rois de ma vie/ They leave me, kings that rule my being* Pierre Guedron, Transl. Gibbon Mignonne/ My Dear* Ronsard, Transl. Gibbon Grisélidis* A love song of the Crusades, no transl. provided Un jour la bergère Silvie* Pierre Guedron, no transl. provided ! ! 121! 5.4 Jeanne Dusseau acc. Mrs. Russell Mon doux berger/ Sweet shepherd* Coll. Barbeau, harm. MacMillan, transl. Gibbon Entre Paris et Saint-Denis/From Paris to St. Denis, see* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. Geoffrey O’Hara, transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Là-bas sur ces montagnes/Out there on yonder mountains* Coll. O’Brien, harm. O’Brien, transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Les jeunes filles à marier/ Maidens ripe for marrying* Coll. Barbeau, harm. MacMillan, transl. Gibbon Je sais bien quelque chose/ Something there is I know* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Barbeau, transl. Gibbon 5.5 Group of Folk Singers Philéas Bédard Si j’avais les beaux souliers que ma mignonne m’a donnés Rengaine Francois Saint- Laurent, with folk dancers Tu veux manger du lièvre Round dance La bistringue Dance Joseph Ouellette Ce printemps tout amiable None provided Vincent-Ferrier de Repentigny Le fils du roi s’en va chassant Et pis roule…et pis tourne None provided 5.6 J. Campbell McInnes (The second two chansons will be accompanied by the composer who arranged the harmonizations) Quand j’étais chez mon père/ When I was with my father* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. Healey Willan, transl. Constance Hamilton D’où viens-tu, bergère?/ Whence, O shepherd maiden?* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), harm. Alfred La Liberté, transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Nanette* Coll. Barbeau, harm. La Liberté, transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) 5.7 Ensemble of Les Chanteurs de Saint-Dominique and the Bytown Troubadours Vive la Canadienne* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Alouette For words see Friday evening’s programme Bonsoir, mes Amis None provided ! “O!Canada”! ! ! 122! Canadian Folk Song and Handicraft Festival: May 24-28, 1928 Quebec City First Concert (Thursday Evening) May 24, 1928. Auditorium Theatre. 8:30 pm. 1.1 Bytown Troubadours (Charles Marchand, Fortunat Champagne, Émile Boucher, Miville Belleau) in “Canadian Folk Songs” acc. Louis Bédard Le fils du roi s’en va chassant … Et pitourne et piroule Coll. E-Z. Massicotte; arr. Pierre Gautier J’ai cueilli la belle rose/ I have cull’d that lovely rosebud* From Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada”; arr. Pierre Gautier; Transl. Gibbon La visite du jour de l’an/ The new year’s day visit* Arr. Pierre Gautier; transl. Gibbon (from “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New”) M’en vas à la fontaine/ Wandering to the fountain* From Pierre Gautier’s prize-winning composition for male voices (E.W. Beatty contest) Le bal chez Boulé/ Boulé’s hop* From Pierre Gautier’s prize-winning composition for male voices (E.W. Beatty contest) transl. Gibbon (from “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New”) 1.2 Hart House Quartet: George Bowles prize-winning String Quartette (E.W. Beatty contest) Harry Adaskin (first violin) in place of Geza de Kresz away in Europe, John Langley (second violin), Milton Blackstone (viola), Boris Hambourg (cello) 1. I- Allegro - Genticorum - J’ai cueilli la belle rose 13. II- Largo - Descendez à l’ombre - Je le mène bien mon devidoir 18. III- Vivace - C’est la belle Françoise - François Marcotte 32. IV- Allegro - Au bois du rossignolet - Jamais je nourrirair de geai Digue Dindaine ! ! 123! 1.3 Madame de Repentigny et sa ‘manufacture’ Personages- Persons of the Play: Mme Le Gardeur de Repentigny- Mlle Geneviève Davis Ses amies- Her friends Mme Lambert-Dumont- Mme Jeanne Dusseau Mme de Champigny- Melle Marcelle Aubry Mme de Maizerets- Mlle Gwendolyn Williams Tisseuses, cardeuses, fileuses- Weavers, Flax beaters, spinners: Mme Leblond et ses quatres filles (and her four daughters) Mme Simon et ses deux filles (and her two daughters) Mme Lachance Mme Plante Mme Bouchard Fouleurs- Fullers: Philéas Bédard Jos. Rousselle J.A. Lavallée Alphonse Plante Un violon (violinist) (Arr. Willan) Scene- designed by Arthur Lismer Chansons incorporated Artist Provenance Au bois du rossignolet/ In haunts of the nightingale* Jeanne Dusseau Coll. Barbeau, Transl. Gibbon V’l’a l’bon vent/ H’llo good wind* Jeanne Dusseau Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), Transl. Gibbon Mon beau ruban gris/ My gay ribbon grey* Jeanne Dusseau Coll. Barbeau, Transl. Gibbon La fontaine est profonde/ Deep sunken is the fountain* Jeanne Dusseau Coll. Barbeau, Transl. Gibbon Je le mène bien, mon dévidoir/ I can handle well my winding stick* Philéas Bédard Coll. Barbeau, Transl. Gibbon Je lui ai pris sa main blanche* Madame Leblond and her daughters Coll. Barbeau (no transl. provided) La belle aux oranges* Donat Lachance No provenance specified, no transl. provided Si j’avais les beaux souliers/ If I had the shoes so gay* Philéas Bédard Coll. Barbeau, Transl. Gibbon ! ! 124! 1.4 Award of Prizes - for the E.W. Beatty $3000 Competition for musical compositions based on French Canadian Folk melodies - by Governor General 1.5 Chanteurs de Saint Dominique (Male voice choir of Quebec) 3 chansons arr. for male voices by Dr. Ernest MacMillan, Principal of the Toronto Conservatory of Music- Selections from prize winning composition Director: R. Talbot Organist: J. Beaudet C’est la belle Françoise/ The lovely Frances* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), Transl. Gibbon Au cabaret* Coll. Barbeau, no translation provided Dans tous les cantons* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Note: the fourth chanson will be sung on Sunday evening by the Montreal Quintette consisting of Paul Valade, Charles Dupuis, Charles Goulet, Gaston Monté, Louis Fortin 1.6 Le jeu de Robin et Marion Reconstruction by Jean Beck French version modernized by Dr. Paul Morin of Montreal Produced and conducted by Wilfrid Pelletier Scenery designed by Signor Agnini Music for the dances will be played on the harp by Carlo Sodero (Met) The orchestra is that of the Royal 22nd Regiment Robin- Ralphe Errolle Un Chevalier- Rodolphe Plamondon Baudon- Pierre Pelletier Gautier- Ulysse Paquin Huart- Gérard Gélinas Marion- Cédia Brault Péronnelle- Geneviève Davis Deux joueurs de cornemuse (Two bagpipe players) ! ! 125! Second Concert (Friday Matinee) May 25, 1928. Chateau Frontenac. 2:30 pm. 2.1 Camille Bernard (costume de bergère) Chansons Populaires de France Acc. Madame Luce Chamberland- Paquin En passant par la Lorraine* No provenance specified, no translation provided La mort du mari No provenance specified, no lyrics provided Mon père avait cinq cents moutons* No provenance specified, no translation provided Ah! M’n’enfant No provenance specified, no lyrics provided 2.2 Pierre Pelletier Canadian Chansons Populaires Acc. Alfred Laliberté in his own harmonizations (first four), Wilfrid Pelletier in the others Petit rocher/ O Little rock* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), transl. Gibbon (Canadian Folksongs, Old and New) Cette amiable tourterelle* Coll. E.Z. Massicotte, no translation provided Renaud, Le retour du Croisé/The return of the Crusader* “One of the most widely spread ballads of France, sung still in Canada” (No lyrics provided) Lève ton pied/ Foot it lightly* Coll. Gagnon (Chansons populaires du Canada), transl. Gibbon Elle a ravi le coeur des mariniers* Coll. Barbeau, no translation provided Le richard/ The rich man* Coll. Barbeau, transl. Sir Harold Boulton 2.3 Mme E. Laterrière Garneau Folk Songs of France Légende de St-Nicholas Rec. Gérard de Nerval- Musique Armand Gouzien Corbleu Marion!* Rec. and harm. Chs de Sivry Il est pourtant temps de me marier* Coll. Yvette Guilbert, Harm. Gustave Ferrari Le Roy a fait battre tambour (1599) For words see programme of Friday Night Concert- L’Ordre de Bon-Temps Les belles manières* Coll. Yvette Guilbert, Harm. Gustave Ferrari 2.4 Folk Group Vincent-Ferrier de Repentigny, Joseph Rousselle and J.A. Lavallée Selections from repertoire printed in General Program (Which contains list of songs) ! ! 126! 2.5 Camille Bernard (costume du soldat de la revolution) Acc. Madame Luce Chamberland-Paquin Trois Jeunes tambours/ Three drummer boys* Old French Chanson, Transl. Gibbon Le petit Grégoire No provenance specified, no translation provided Fan fan la Tulippe No provenance specified, no translation provided 2.6 J. Campbell McInnes Folk Songs of France Acc. Constance Hamilton Voici la douce nuit de mai* Adapted by McInnes from a XVth century tune Ma douce Annette* Arr. Bourgault-Ducoudray Vrai dieu d’amour* XVth century, Reimann’s arrangement Le tambourineur* XVIII century, arr. Weckerlin L’Angelus * Bourgault-Ducoudray 2.7 Hector Graton Danse Canadienne Composition for piano in folk style Acc. Laliberté (piano), H. Adaskin (violin) Third Concert (Friday Evening) May 25, 1928. Auditorium Theatre. 8:30 pm. 3.1 Orchestral Suite $1,000- Prize Composition Arthur Cleland Lloyd (b. Vancouver, 1908) Performed by Orchestra of 22nd Regiment Rehearsed by Cpt Charles O’Neill Conducted by Harold Eustace Key Themes taken from “Chansons of Old French Canada” (1920, CPR, arr. Margaret Gascoigne) 3.2 Nocturnes et Aubades Personnages: Nanon, la pastourelle (the shepherdess): Cedia Brault Le gallant (the lover): Victor Brault Arr. and Acc. Leo-Pol Morin Mise en scène par (stage setting by) Arthur Lismer ! ! 127! Sommeiles-tu, ma petite Nanon?/ Are you asleep my so dainty Nanon?* Coll. Massicotte and Barbeau, Transl. Gibbon Voilà la recompense!/ Is that the only welcome* Coll. Barbeau, Transl. Gibbon Les deux pailles d’orge/ The double straws of barley* Coll. E.Z. Massicotte, transl. Gibbon Je me lève à l’aurore du jour/ Early rising when dawn begins to glow* Coll. Barbeau, transl. Gibbon L’herbe verdit tous les printemps/ Every spring the grass is green* Coll. Barbeau/ transl. Gibbon Ah! toi belle hirondelle/ Ah swallow, bird so sprightly* Coll. Barbeau/ transl. Gibbon 3.3 Folk Dances in a Veillée Fiddlers and dancers. The Ouellet family, fiddlers; Abraham Renaud and Mme Victoria Paquet, dancers. Joseph Rousselle and J.A. Lavallée in dance songs. 3.4 “Rossignol” or Nightingale Songs (Le Rossignol, Confident des Amoureux) Harm. Laliberté Stage settings Lismer Artists: Mme Jeanne Dusseau, soprano Albred Laliberté (piano), Milton Blackstone (Viola), Louigi Garzia (Flute) Rossignolet du bois joli/ Nightingale, bird of lovely glade* Coll. Barbeau/Transl. Gibbon Toi qui chante le jour et la nuit* Coll. Barbeau Rossignol du vert bocage* Coll. Barbeau Rossignol sauvage, apprends-moi ton langage/ O woodland nightingale* Coll. Barbeau, transl. Gibbon Rossignolet sauvage, toi qui vas au village* None specified. Au bois rossignolet None specified. French words and translations with Healey Willan’s harmonization in the programme for Thursday evening- Madame de Repentigny group 3.5 L’Ordre de Bon-Temps Marc Lescarbot- Rodolphe Plamondon Samuel de Champlain- Ulysse Paquin Jean de Biencourt- Léon Rothier Sieur de Boullet- Charles Marchand Folgéré de Vitri- Emile Boucher Le Fèvre de Retel- Miville Belleau ! ! 128! de Noyes- Fortunat Champagne Maître Estienne- Louis Bédard Louis Hébert- Gelinas et autres (and others) Pierre Augibault- Ralleau- François Ardanim- Membertou- Membertouchis- Actaudinech- Chansons harmonize by Healey Willan Scenery by Arthur Lismer, based on the painting by C.W. Jeffreys Directed by Healy Willan Stage Manager: Victor Desautels Musicians: Healey Willan- harpsichord Harry Adaskin- violin Boris Hambourg- cello George Pannell- oboe Luigi Garzia- flute Chantons les louanges/ Sing on glad responses* Rodolphe Plamondon Coll. Barbeau/Transl. Gibbon Le Foudrion* Rodolphe Plamondon Coll. P. Arsenault, no translation provided Le prince Eugène/ The prince Eugene* Léon Rothier Coll. Barbeau, transl. Gibbon Le prince d’Orange* Léon Rothier Coll. Barbeau, no translation provided Vive les matelots/ Long live the sailors three* Rodolphe Plamondon Coll. Barbeau, transl. Gibbon Le Roi Anglais/ The English King* Ulysse Paquin From Weckerlin’s “La chanson populaire,” transl. Gibbon Ma belle, si ton âme* Ulysse Paquin Chanson de Gilles Durant- Weckerlin’s Echoes du Temps passé, no translation provided La courte-paille* Léon Rothier None specified Le roi a fait battre tambour* Ulysse Paquin None specified Vive Henri Quatre* Ensemble None specified, transl. anon. Saturday- 11-12 am. At the Basilica Concert of Ambrosian and Gregorian music and folk canticles Director: Abbé de Smet; Organist: Henri Gagnon Folk canticles arranged by Henri Gagnon ! ! 129! Fourth Concert (Saturday Matinee) May 26, 1928. Chateau Frontenac. 2:30 pm. 4.1 France Ariel Duprat and Armand Duprat Chansons de Bretagne et Saintonge La fille et le chasseur* From the version by Julien Tiersot in Sixty Folksongs of France La ville d’Is* None specified Le sabotier* None specified La fille du roi d’Espagne* None specified Les gorets* None specified. Voici la Noel* None specified. 4.2 Hart House Quartet in a String Quartet by Miss Wyatt Pargeter, England awarded a special prize in the E.W. Beatty Competition Themes: “Ah si mon moine voilait danser” “Petit rocher de la haute montagne” “Ah! qui me passera le bois” “Envoyons d’l’avant nos gens” 4.3 Round Dances and Play-Parties A group of Quebec children Under the direction of Mme Jeanne Duquet Assisted by Mlle Cécile Stafford Acc. Mlle Germaine Lavigne Marie trempe ton pain Louise et André Leclerc Coll. Weckerlin J’ai tant d’enfants à marier* Madeleine St-Laurent et André Leclerc Coll. Barbeau, arr. O. O’Brien La bistringue* F. Landry (solos), M. Bastien, M. Hébert, L.P. Duchaine Coll. Barbeau, arr. O. O’Brien La souris grise/ My little dusky mousie* La souris: Louise Leclerc Coll. Barbeau, arr. O’Brien Compère Guilleri Georges Henri Dugal Coll. Weckerlin 4.4 Folk Singers Chansons de métiers and Philéas Bédard’s cordonnier et fileuse ! ! 130! 4.5 Juliette Gaultier in Mediaeval Pastourelles transcribed and prepared by Jean Beck Acc. on cithole by Jean Beck Près du bosquet de Loncpré* Ce fut en mai* Monoist d’Arras Voulez-vous un joli chant* None specified Complainte d’amour* None specified En mai le mois rose* None specified. 4.6 Léon Rothier in Canadian Chansons Populaires acc. Wilfrid Pelletier La fill’ du roi d’Espagne/ The Princess Salamanca* Coll. Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada”, harm. Geoffrey O’Hara, transl. Gibbon “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New” Dans les prisons de Nantes/ Imprison’d once at Nantes* Coll. Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada,” harm. Geoffrey O’Hara, transl. Gibbon “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New” A Saint-Malo, beau port de mer/ Bound for the port, St. Malo fair* Coll. Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada,” harm. Achille Fortier, transl. Gibbon C’est la belle Françoise Harm. Achille Fortier. For French words and translation see programme of Thursday evening Joli Coeur de rose/ Lovely heart of roses* Coll. Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada,” harm. Achille Fortier, transl. Gibbon Un Canadien errant/ From his Canadian home* Coll. Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada,” transl. Gibbon “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New” 4.7 Round Dances and Play-Parties (second group) under the direction of Madame Duquet Carmel Delaney et Marcel Morency, Jacques Leclerc Looby Loo* English text only. Note- Included as a gesture of goodwill from French speaking to English speaking Canadians Dans ma main droite, j’ai un rosier* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Alexandre D’Aragon La ronde du loup* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Alexandre D’Aragon ! ! 131! Fifth Concert (Saturday Evening) May 26, 1928. Auditorium Theatre. 8:30 pm. 5.1 Le jeu de Robin et Marion same text as First Concert 5.2 Camille Bernard in Canadian Chansons acc. Madame Chamberland Le jaloux/ The jealous husband* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Arthur Somervell, English version by Harold Boulton, from “Twelve French Canadian Folk Songs” Le marchand de velours (unaccompanied- habitant style)* None specified Ne pleure pas tant, charmante blonde (unaccompanied- habitant style) None specified. 5.3 The Canadian Singers Joy Kennedy, Doris Hillary, Mabel Curtis, Marjory Baldwin, Florence Glenn, Mrs. Poole, Betty Gemmill, Margaret Stephen, Grace Johns In a group of Bergerettes, harmonized and conducted by Dr. Ernest MacMillan Carlo Sodero (Harp), Luigi Garzia (Flute), John Ponnell (Obeo), Milton Blackstone (Viola), Boris Hambourg (cello) Scenery by Arthur Lismer La bergère aux champs/ The shepherd maiden a-field* Coll. Barbeau, transl. Gibbon Qui n’a pas d’amour n’a pas de beaux jours* Coll. Barbeau, no transl. provided Sur la verte fougère/ Upon this ferny prairie* Coll. Barbeau, Transl. Gibbon Je te ferai demoiselle* Coll. Barbeau, no transl. provided Là-haut sur ces montagnes* Coll. Barbeau, no transl. provided Ramenez vos moutons du champ* Coll. Barbeau, no transl. provided ! ! 132! 5.4 Juliette Gaultier in Canadian Chansons populaires arr. Marion Bauer acc. on viola by Milton Blackstone J’ai tant dansé, j’ai tant sauté/ I’ve danced to-day* Coll. Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada”, transl. Gibbon La nourrice du roi/ The king’s nursing woman* Coll. P. Arsenault, Transl. Gibbon La Sainte Vierge aux longs cheveux pendants* Coll. Barbeau, no transl. provided Je le mène bien mon dévidoir* None provided. (English translation in programme of Friday evening) 5.5 Forestiers et Voyageurs Dominique Lacerte (guide des pays en haut- up country guide)- Charles Marchand Anthime Lafleur (voyageur)- Cadet Blondin (voyageur)- Benn (dit l’Americain- called the “American”)- Michel Léveillé (voyageur)- Autres voyageurs- Choeur des Chanteurs de Saint-Dominique (Other voyageurs- Chorus from the Chanteurs de Saint-Dominique) Décors par (Scenery by) James Crockart Accompagnements par Oscar O’Brien, Orchestre du Royal 22ième Régiment sous la direction du Capitaine O’Neil (Accompaniments by Oscar O’Brien, Orchestra of the Royal 22nd Regiment under the direction of Captain O’Neill) Arrangements pour quatre voix par (Arrangements for four voices by) Pierre Gautier Scenery adopted by James Crockart Chansons du terrior intercollées- Folksongs incorporated (melodies and words from the collection of Marius Barbeau) Voici le printemps* Charles Marchand, refrain by Quartet Coll. Barbeau, transl. Gibbon Epouser le voyage* Ulysse Paquin Coll. Barbeau, none given Ce sont les gens de Boucherville* Unspecified Coll. E.Z. Massicotte, none given La rose blanche* Charles Marchand Coll. Marchand, none provided Dans les haubans* Émile Boucher Coll. Barbeau, none provided À l’abri d’une olive* Ulysse Paquin Coll. Barbeau, none provided Je le parle pour mon maître* Marchand, Champagne, Boucher, Belleau Coll. P. Arsenault Sur le joli vent Ensemble Coll. Gagnon, none provided ! ! 133! Sixth Concert (Sunday Evening) May 27, 1928. Chateau Frontenac. 8:30 pm. 6.1 The Canadian Singers Acc. Mrs Constance E Hamilton Stage Setting by Arthur Lismer Morning Hymn* Orlando Lassus, transl. Hamilton Christmas Motet* Palestrina, transl. Hamilton S’ébahiton si je vous aime/ Is it a wonder I should love thee?* Claude le Jeune, transl. Hamilton L’amour de may* Arr. R. Vaughan Williams, Transl. Hamilton Allons au vert bocage* Guillaume Costelay Je vous escry/ I write to you* Arr. Hugh Ross, Transl. Hamilton Ce moys de may* Clement Jannequin 6.2 Round Dances and Play-Parties Madame Jeanne Duquet and Quebec children Piano settings by George Brewer- at the piano, Mlle Lavigne La chansons des fleurs* Coll. Adélard Lambert The Mulberry Bush* Note- this familiar English round dance has been included as a gesture of goodwill from the French speaking to the English speaking Canadians La petite mère* Coll. Adélard Lambert, note- this is sung to a different melody that which Juliette Gaultier will sing tomorrow Malbrough* None specified 6.3 Jeanne Dusseau and Ralph Errolle in a duet acc. Laliberté (piano), Blackstone (viola obligato), Luigi Garzie (Flute obligato) Le Coeur de ma mie* Coll. Barbeau, harm. Laliberté, Transl. Gibbon 6.4 France Ariel Duprat and Armand Duprat Chansons du Centre de France (Auvergne, Bresse) Acc. Hart House Quartet La coiffe de ma mie* None specified La bourrée d’Auvergne* None specified Berceuse d’Auvergne* None specified Noel Béarnais None specified Les metamorphoses* None specified ! ! 134! 6.5 Male Quintet of Montreal Paul Valade, Charles Dupuis, Charles Goulet, Gaston Monté, Léopold Fortin (bass) In Ernest MacMillan’s prize-winning composition for male voices Blanches comme la neige/White as cometh the snowflake* Coll. Lorette Wyman, Transl. Gibbon 6.6 Mixed Voice Choral Arrangements of Folk Songs Selections from the prize-winning compositions by Dr. Alfred Whitehead Interpreted by the Canadian Singers and the Montreal Quintette Conducted by Whitehead Gail on la, gai le rosier/ Gay la la, gay is the rose* Coll. Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada,” Transl. Gibbon “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New” A la Claire fontaine/At the clear running fountain* Coll. Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada,” Transl. Gibbon “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New” • the four Canadian Folksongs arranged for mixed voices by Dr Whitehead have been published by the Boston Music Company 6.7 The Canadian Singers Second Group Pavane* Auteur inconnu, transl. Hamilton Noël* E. Du Courroy, transl. Hamilton Griselidis* Not specified, transl. Hamilton Les trois princesses* Not specified, transl. Hamilton 6.8 Round Dances and Play-Parties Madame Duquet and Quebec Children 2nd part Mon oncle* Coll. E.Z. Massicotte Compagnons de la Marionnette* La sentinelle- L.P. Duchaine; Petites Darion- Louise Leclerc, Andrée Dugal, Madeleine Landry Coll. Lambert Le couvre-feu* Caporal- Marcel Morency; Compère- Henri Dugal; Marie Picard- Madeleine Boisvert Coll. Barbeau Viv’ le roi* Solo- Antonin Métayer Not specified ! ! 135! 6.9 Chanteurs Saint Dominique Director- R. Talbot Organist- J. Beaudet From the prize-winning group arranged for male voices by Pierre Gautier Je sais bien quelque chose/Something there is I know* Coll. Barbeau, transl. Gibbon Là-bas sur ces montagnes/ Out there on yonder mountains* Coll. E.Z. Massicotte, transl. Gibbon “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New” 6.10 Bytown Troubadours acc. Louis Bédard (piano) arr. for four voices by Pierre Gautier from harmonizations by O’Brien Boum Budiboum* Coll. Marchand, Transl. Gibbon “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New” C’est l’aviron qui nous mène en haut/ It is the oar that impels us on* Coll. E.Z. Massicotte, Transl. Gibbon “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New” Seventh Concert (Monday Matinee) May 28, 1928. Chateau Frontenac. 2:30 pm. 7.1 La guignolée under the direction of Mrs Mildred Atkinson Performers: Grandfather- Napoléon Taylor Grandmother- Mrs. J. A. Levasseur Father- Henri Bergeron Mother- Mlle Stella Roberge Rose, daughter- Mlle Dolores Bergeron Emma, daughter- Mlle Annette Couture Aunt- Mme Tancrède Boucher Guests: Mme Irma Levesque, Mlle Rolland Gingras, Mme Olaf Coté, Mlle Albertine St-Hilaire, Mlle Eva Vermette, Mme Donat Vermette, Mlle S. Gagné, Albert St-Hilaire, Laurier St- Hilaire, Jack Berrigan, Lucien Demers, Philippe Couture, Patrick Hayes “Guignoleurs”: Tancrède Boucher, Édouard Brisebois, Georges Marcoux ! ! 136! Trois canards Not specified, none given C’est pas l’affaire des filles Not specified, none given Quand j’étais chez mon père Not specified, none given Vive la Canadienne! Not specified, none given Marianne s’en va-t-au Moulin Not specified, none given Alouette Not specified, none given 7.2 Juliette Gaultier in Canadian Chansons Populaires arr. Marion Bauer acc. Milton Blackstone (viola) Bonhomme, que sais tu donc faire Not specified, none given Mon père n’avait fille que moi Not specified, none given Faites-moi un homme sans tête Not specified, none given Le prince des Ormeaux/ The prince of the Ormeaux* Coll. Barbeau, Transl. Gibbon Berceuse/ Lullaby* As sung by Juliette Gaultier’s grandmother/Transl. Gibbon 7.3 J. Campbell McInnes Merci Clamant* Chatelain de Coucy- Trouvère 1180 Pour mal tems, ni pour gelée* Thibaut de Champagne- Trouvère 1235 Chansons d’aventuriers* XV Century Le martyre de Ste-Catherine* French Canadian folk song, arr. Barbeau Auprès de ma blonde* Not specified, none provided 7.4 The Canadian Singers acc. Hamilton, directed McInnes, stage settings Lismer La violette Brunette, XV century Menuet Pastourelle, Martini Si mon papa le savait Arr. Maud Wood Hill Le papillon suit la chandelle Coll. Barbeau, arr. Wood Hill Je ne suis pas si vilaine Coll. Barbeau, arr. Wood Hill ! ! 137! 7.5 Jeanne Dusseau acc. Gwendolyn Williams Rondel* De Thibaut de champagne, music by henri gagnon Isabeau s’y promène* Coll. Barbeau Entre Paris et Saint-Denis/ From Paris to St. Denis, see* Arr. Geoffrey O’Hara, Transl. Gibbon “Canadian Folksongs, Old and New” Laquelle marierons-nous* Arr. Healey Willan La petite galiote* Coll. Barbeau, Harm. Arthur Somervell, in Sir Harold Boulton’s “Twelve Canadian Folk Songs” Sainte Marguerite* Gagnon “Ch. Pop. Du Canada,” arr. Willan, Transl. Gibbon 7.6 Bytown Troubadours arr. Pierre Gautier for male voices from harmonizations by O’Brien L’âne de p’tit Jean/Johnnie’s donkey* Not specified, Transl. Gibbon Le merle* Not specified, none provided En revenant des Noces Same words as ‘a la Claire fontaine” with a different refrain Meunier, tu dors* Chanson de college Sur la rue Chiffonnier* Coll. Marchand La perdriole/ One a little foolhen& Gagnon “Chansons populaires du Canada” Transl. Gibbon (From twenty-one French Canadian chansons ed. MacMillan) O Canada ! ! 138! Appendix B: Florence Glenn Papers The Glenn papers consist of eleven boxes of material, including books, song transcriptions, press clippings, photographs, programs, periodicals, letters, notes, musical arrangements, and articles. Box 1 Books sent to Glenn by their author, Marius Barbeau (1929-1958) - Alouette! Nouveau recueil de chansons populaires avec melodies, choisies dans le repertoire du Musée national du Canada, Ottawa: Éditions Lumen, 1946. - Aux armes, canadiens! Ottawa: La Hutte canadienne des Chevaliers de Colomb, 1941. - Ceinture flechée, Ottawa: Éditions Paysana, 1945. - L’Homme aux trois femmes, Montreal: Éditions Beauchemin, 1945. - Publications from the National Museum of Canada, Anthropological Series (Nos. 12, 30, 41). Box 2 Publications sent to Glenn by their author, Marius Barbeau (1945-1967) - Comment-on découvrit l’Amérique, Montreal: Librairie Beachemin Limitée, 1966. - Fameux Peaux-Rouges d’Amériques: Du Nord-Est au Nord-Ouest, , Montreal: Librairie Beachemin Limitée, 1966. - “Folklore,” in Cahiers de l’Académie canadienne-française 9, Pierre DesMarais, [1965]. - I have Seen Quebec, Quebec: Librairie Garneau, 1957. - Le rêve de Kamalmouk, Montreal: Éditions Fides, 1948. - Le Saguenay légendaire, , Montreal: Librairie Beachemin Limitée, 1967. - Peaux-Rouges d’Amérique: Leurs moeurs, leurs coutumes, Montreal: Librairie Beachemin Limitée, 1965. - Publications from the National Museum of Canada, Anthropological Series (Nos. 16, 26, 38, 43, 46). - Saintes artisans (I- Les brodeuses, II- Mille petites adresses), Montreal: Éditions Fides, 1944. Box 3 Publications sent to Glenn by their author, Marius Barbeau (1935-1958) - Alaska Beckons, Caldwell, Idaho: The Caxton Printers, Ltd., 1947. - Côté: The Wood Carver, Canadian Art Series, Toronto: The Ryerson Press, 1943. - Grand’mère raconte (No. 1302), Montreal: Librairie Beauchemin Limitée, 1935. (Reprint Toronto: Longmans, Green and Co., 1947) - Haida Myths, Ottawa: Edmond Cloutier, Queen’s Printer and Controller of Stationary, 1953. - Henri Julien, Canadian Art Series, Toronto: The Ryerson Press, 1941. ! ! 139! - Il était une fois (No. 1301), Montreal: Librairie Beauchemin Limitée, 1935. - L’arbre des rêves, Ottawa: Éditions Lumen, 1948. - Les Contes du Grand-Père Sept-Heures, Montreal: Les Éditions Chantecler Ltée, 1950. I- Le phénix doré II- Le fin voleur de Valenciennes III- La princesse de Tomboso IV- L’eau qui rajeunit V- La fontaine de Paris VI- La bague de vertu, VII- Le meunier sans-souci VIII- La fée de la mer verte IX- Le fantôme ingrouillable X- La vieille fée aigruchonne XI- Le miroir qui parle XII- Le monster vair - Les enfants disent, Ottawa: Éditions Paysana, 1943. - Les rêves des chasseurs, Montreal: Librairie Beauchemin Limitée, 1942. - Madonnes canadiennes, Montreal: Librairie Beauchemin Limitée, 1944. - Mountain Cloud, London: Quality Press Ltd., 1948. - The Golden Phoenix and other French-Canadian Fairy Tales, Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1958. - The Indian Speaks, Caldwell, Idaho: The Caxton Printers, Ltd., 1943. (Also published Toronto: MacMillan Co., for Canadian distribution) - The Tree of Dreams, Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1955. Box 4 Journal articles sent to Glenn by their author, Marius Barbeau (1927-1959) - “All Hands Aboard Scrimshawing,” The American Neptune, Vol. 12, No. 2, Salem, MA: The American Neptune, 1952. - “Asiatic Migrations into America,” The Canadian Historical Review December 1932. - “Charles Hill-Tout: Born 1859, Died 1944,”Proceedings of the Royal Society of Canada, Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1945. - “En quête de connaissances anthropologiques et folkloriques dans l’Amérique du Nord depuis 1911,” Archives de folklore, Université de Laval, Mars-Octobre 1945. - “Folk Songs of French Louisiana,” The Canadian Music Journal, Vol. 1, No. 2, Ottawa: The Canadian Music Council, 1957. - Les Archives de folklore (“Ethnobotanique abénakise,” n.d.; - “Maple Sugar: Its Native Origin,” Royal Society of Canada, Section II, Vol. XL, Ottawa: Royal Society of Canada, 1946. - “My Life in Recording: Canadian-Indian Folk-Lore,” in Folkways Records, Album No. FG 3502, New York: Folkways Records & Service Corp., 1957. - “The Old-World Dragon in America,” Indian Tribes of Aboriginal America, Vol. 3, Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1952. - Publications from the National Museum of Canada, Anthropological Series ! ! 140! (Nos. 173). - “Songs of the Northwest,” The Musical Quarterly, Vol. 19, No. 1, New York: G. Schirmer, Inc., 1933. - “The Man with the Wooden Wife,” Imperial Oil Review, Toronto: Imperial Oil Limited, 1959. - “Traditional Arts of Quebec,” Technique, Vol. 18, No. 5, Montreal: Les Écoles d’arts et métiers, n.d. - Trois Beaux Canards, Montreal: Éditions Fides, 1947. - Canadian Geographic Journal, Montreal: The Canadian Geographical Society ⋅ “An Indian Paradise Lost,” Vol. 1, No. 2, 1930 ⋅ “The Bell Tolled Midnight,” Vol. 9, No. 6, 1934 ⋅ “The People of Canada,” Vol. 18, No. 5, 1939 ⋅ “The North Pacific Coast: Its Human Mosaic,” Vol. 20, No. 3, 1940 - Dalhousie Review ⋅ “Canadian Legends,” No. 446, Summer n.d. ⋅ “The Blind Singer,” 1948 - Journal of American Folklore, Menasha WI: The American Folklore Society ⋅ “A Modern Growth on the North Pacific Coast,” Vol. 57, No. 223, 1944 ⋅ “Bear Mother,” Vol. 59, No. 231, 1945 ⋅ “I Dressed me all in Feathers,” Vol. 63, No. 248, 1950 ⋅ “Totemic Atmosphere on the North Pacific Coast: The Ermatinger Collection of Voyageur Songs,” Vol. 67, No. 264, 1954 - Proceedings of the American Philosophical Society, Lancaster: Lancaster Press, Inc. ⋅ “How the Huron-Wyandot Language was Saved from Oblivion,” Vol. 9, No. 3, 1949 ⋅ “Charles A. Cooke, Mohawk Scholar,” Vol. 96, No. 4, 1949 - Queen’s Quarterly ⋅ “Backgrounds in North American Folk Arts,” Vol. 48, No. 3, 1941 ⋅ “L’île d’Orleans,” Vol. 49, No. 4, 1942 - The French Folklore Bulletin, The French Folklore Society ⋅ “Canadian Folklore,” No. 21, Year IV, 1945 ⋅ “Canadian Folklore,” 1946 - The Geographical Review, New York: American Geographical Society ⋅ “Totem Poles: A Recent Native Art of the Northwest Coast of America,” Vol, 20, No. 2, 1930 ⋅ “The Aleutian Route of Migration into America,” Vol. 35, No. 3, 1945 - The Scientific Monthly ⋅ “Asiatic Survivals In Indian Songs,” Vol. 54, 1942 ⋅ “Totem Poles: A By-Product of the Fur Trade,” Vol. 60, 1942 ! ! 141! - Transactions of the Royal Society of Canada, Ottawa: The Royal Society of Canada ⋅ “The Native Races of Canada,” Vol. 21, 1927 ⋅ “Le dernier de nos grands artisans: Louis Jobin,” Vol. 27, 1933 ⋅ “Krieghoff découvre le Canada,” Vol. 28, 1934 ⋅ “Côté, Sculpteur sur bois,” Vol. 36, 1942 ⋅ “The Hooked Rug: Its Origin,” Vol. 36, 1942 ⋅ “Louis Jobin: Statuaire (1845-1928),” Vol. 37, 1943 ⋅ “Modalité dans nos mélodies populaires,” Vol. 38, 1944 ⋅ “How the Raven Stole the Sun,” Vol. 38, 1944 ⋅ “La confrérie de Sainte-Anne,” Vol. 39, 1945 Box 5 Publications sent to Glenn by Marius Barbeau (not authored by Barbeau) (1925-1956) - Guide to the Anthropological Exhibits, National Museum of Canada, 1939 ⋅ “Indians of Canada” ⋅ “The Algonkians” ⋅ “Mackenzie River Tribes” ⋅ “The Eskimo” ⋅ “Pacific Coast Tribes” ⋅ “The Cordillera Indians” - “À la mémoire d’Albert Roussel,” La revue musicale, November 1937. - Canadian Pulp and Paper Association, National Asset: Native Design, Montreal: Canadian Pulp and Paper Association, 1956. - Clarisse Cardin, Luc Lacoursière, Félix-Antoine Savard, “Bio- bibliographique de Marius Barbeau, precede d’un Hommage à Marius Barbeau,” Archives de Folklore, Vol. II (Montreal: Éditions Fides, 1947). - Helen H. Roberts and Diamond Jenness, Report of the Canadian Arctic Expedition 1913-1918: Songs of the Copper Eskimos, Ottawa: F.A. Acland, Printer to the King’s Most Excellent Majesty, 1925. - Hendrik Willem Van Loon and Grace Castagnetta, The Last of the Troubadours: The Life and Music of Carl Michael Bellman, New York: Simon and Schuster, Inc., 1939. - Jeannine Bélanger, “La laisse épique dans nos chansons,” Culture 4, Quebec: Culture, 1943. - Jeannine Bélanger, Une corde oubliée de notre lyre, Ottawa: La Société royale du Canada, 1942. - Marguerite and Raoul D’Harcourt, Chansons folkloriques francaises au Canada: Leur langue musicale, University of Laval, 1956. - n.a. Chansons de Botrel: Pour l’école et le foyer, Éditions Beauchemin, 1931. - n.a. Exposition d’art canadien: Au muse du jeu de paume, Imprimerie Kapp paris-Vanves, 1927. ! ! 142! - National Museum of Canada Bulletin No. 112, Annual Reports of the National Museum 1939-1947, Ottawa: Edmond Cloutier, Printer to the King’s Most Excellent Majesty, 1949. - National Museum of Canada, Canadian Folk Song and Handicraft Festival, Annotated Program, Friday Evening, 1927. - R.E. Ritzenthaler, Masks of the North American Indians: Indian Masks, Milwaukee: Milwaukee Publicc Museum, n.d. - Roger Buliard, Inuk: Au dos de la terre!, Éditions Saint-Germain, 1949. - Vicki Baum, Lac-aux-dames, Montrouge: L’imprimerie modern, 1938. Box 6 Song transcriptions and music books (1906-1963), Including: - M. Béclard d’Harcourt, Chansons populaires du Vieux Québec, Paris: Éditions du magasin musical Pierre Schneider, 1938 - M. Béclard d’Harcourt, Trois chants des Andes, Milan: G. Ricordi & Co., Editori Milano, n.d. - Ernest MacMillan, Three Songs of the West Coast, 1929. Box 7 Music books, including: - Maurice Emmanuel, XXX chansons bourguignonnes du pays de Beaune, Paris: Durand & Cie, n.d. - J. Concone, 25 leçons de chant, Leipzig: Edition Peters, n.d. - Louis Lablanche, Vocalises, Leipzig: Edition Peters, n.d. - William Shakespeare, The Art of Singing, Boston, MA: Oliver Ditson Company, 1921. - Vincenzo Righini, Righini’s Celebrated Vocal Studies, Boston, MA: Oliver Ditson Company, 1921. - Le temps des cerises, Paris: Émile Benoît, n.d. - Arthur Uvedale, Songs: Eight Classic Gems, Toronto: The Nordheimer Piano & Music Co., n.d. - Harold Boulton and Robert Macleod, Songs of the North: Gathered together from the Highlands and Lowlands of Scotland, London: J.B. Cramer & Co. Ltd., n.d. - Edmund H. Fellowes, London: Stainer & Bell, Ltd. (Come Again! Sweet Love Doth Now Invite; The Elves Dance and Sing We and Chant It; Now is the Month of Maying; On the Plains; Florea Gave me Fairest Flowers; O Sleep, Fond Fancy; among others). Box 8 Music books - Arthur Sullivan, J. Pittman, eds., Il Flauto Magico: Opera in Two Acts, New York: Boosey & Co., n.d. - Franz Schubert, Gesänge für eine singstimme, Vol. II, III, revised by Max Friedlaender, Leipzig, Éditions Peters, n.d. - Frédéric Chopin, Polish Songs, transl. Theo Baker, New York: G. Schirmer, ! ! 143! n.d. - G.F. Handel, Acis and Galatea: A Serenata, ed. Joseph Barnby, New York: Novello and Company, n.d. - Giovanni Battista Pergolesi, Stabat Mater, New York: G. Ricordi & Co., n.d. - Hugo Wolf and Paul Heyse, Italienisches liederbuch, Vol. I, II, III, Leipzig: Editions Peters, n.d. - J.S. Bach, Kantate: Liebfter Jesu, Mein Verlangen, Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, 1933. - J.S. Bach, 40 Songs and Airs, Book I, II, ed. E. Prout, London: Augener Ltd., n.d. - J.S. Bachs Werke: Ausgewählte arien fur sopran mit einem obligaten instrument und clavier-oder orgelbegleitung, (3 Booklets), Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, n.d. - Polnische Lieder: Singstimme, Berlin: Edition Peters, [1829?] - Robert Schumann, Schumann-Album: 50 mélodies, transl. Victor Wilder, Braunschweig: Imprimerie Litolff, n.d. - Robert Schumann, Fifty-Five Songs, transl. Theo Baker, New York: G. Schirmer, n.d. - Robert Schumann, Woman’s Life and Love: Eight Songs, transl. Theo Baker, New York: G. Schirmer, n.d. - W.A. Mozart, Die Hochzeit des Figaro: Opera Buffa in 4 Acten, Vienna: Universal-Edition, n.d. - W.A. Mozart, arr. Mildred Gauntlett, Mozart’s Songs and Scenas, New York: Boosey & Co., n.d. Box 9 Music books - Arnold Dolmetsch ed., Select English Songs and Dialogues of the 16th and 17th Centuries (Book I) New York: Boosey & Co. Ltd., n.d. - Claude Debussy, Pelléas and Mélisande: Lyric Drama in Five Acts, ed. Henry Grafton Chapman, New York: G. Schirmer, n.d. - E.E. Hislop and M.H. Lake, Cours moyen de français, Canada: Clarke, Irwin & Company Limited, 1960. - Edmund Horace Fellowes ed., arr., Forty Elizabethan Songs (Book I, II, III, IV) London: Stainer & Bell, Ltd., n.d. - Frederick Keel arr., Elizabethan Love Songs (First and Second Set), London: Boosey & Co., n.d. - Heinrich Möller, Das Lied Der Völker, Leipzig: Edition Schott, n.d. ⋅ “Russische Volkslieder,” No. 551 ⋅ “Skandinavische Volkslieder,” No. 552 ⋅ “Spanische Volkslieder,” No. 556 ⋅ “Italienische Volkslieder,” No. 557 - Henry Purcell, Twenty Favourite Songs, ed. Edmonstuone Duncan, London: Augener Ltd., n.d. - J. S. Bach, Werke: Weltliche Kantaten, Leipzig: Breitkopf & Härtel, n.d. ! ! 144! - J.S. Bach, Geistliche lieder und arien aus schemellis gesangbuch und dem notenbuch der Anna Magalena Bach für eine singstimme mit pianoforte orgel oder harmonium, Breitkopf & Härtel, n.d. - J.S. Bach, Solos from the Sacred Cantatas of J.S. Bach, London: Novello and Company, Ltd., n.d. - Karol Szymanowski, Deux “enfantines”: Le chat- Mazourka, Editions de la nouvelle revue française, 1925. - Mozart, Le Nozze Di Figaro, London: Novello’s Ltd., n.d. - Robert Schumann, Fifty Songs by Robert Schumann, arr. W.J. Henderson, Boston: Oliver Ditson Company, n.d. Box 10 Music books - Franz Schubert, The Songs of Schubert (“Vol. II- Containing 55”) ed. Myles Foster, transl. May Byron, London: Boosey & Co., n.d. - Franz Schubert, transl. Theo Baker, New York: G. Schirmer, Inc., n.d. - Sir George Henschel, Elena Gerhardt, and J. Francis Harford, The Hundred Best Short Songs in Four Books (Book I) Patterson’s Publications Ltd., n.d. - Soprano Songs (Vol. I, II) London: Boosey & Co., n.d. Box 11 Press clippings, programs, photographs (1909-1959) - Including programs from ⋅ Hart House Theatre (1924-1926) ⋅ Margaret Eaton School (1925-1926) ⋅ Women’s Art Association (1926) ⋅ Women’s Musical Club of Toronto (1930) ⋅ Association of Canadian Clubs (1930) ⋅ Moyse Hall (1930) ⋅ Institut canadien français d’Ottawa (1930) ⋅ English Folk Dance Society (1930-1944) ⋅ Musicale at Government House (1939) ⋅ Vogt Society Musicale (n.d.) ⋅ L’Alliance française de Toronto ⋅ Heliconian Club, Toronto (1940) ⋅ Concert in Aid of Finland (1940) ⋅ Patriotic Concert (1940) ⋅ Speranza Musical Club (1940) ⋅ Biltmore Theatre (1940) ⋅ American Women’s Club (1941) ⋅ Massey Music Hall (n.d.) ⋅ - Various press clippings from many of the above mentioned concerts, pictures (some of/from Barbeau), and miscellanea ! ! 145! Appendix C: List of CPR Festivals ⋅ Canadian Folk Song and Handicraft Festival, Quebec City (May 20-22, 1927) ⋅ Highland Gathering/Scottish and Music Festival, Banff (Sept. 3-5, 1927) ⋅ Canadian Folk Song and Handicraft Festival, Quebec City (May 24-28, 1928) ⋅ New Canadian Folksong and Handicraft Festival, Winnipeg (1928) ⋅ Highland Gathering and Scottish and Music Festival, Banff (Aug. 31-Sept. 3, 1928) ⋅ Old English Yuletide Festival, Victoria (Dec. 1928) ⋅ Sea Music Festival, Vancouver (Jan 23-26, 1929) ⋅ Great West Canadian Folksong, Folkdance and Handicraft Festival, Regina (Mar. 20-23, 1929) ⋅ Highland Gathering/Scottish and Music Festival, Banff (Aug. 30- Sept. 2, 1929) ⋅ English Music Festival: FolkSong – FolkDance, Toronto (Nov. 14-18, 1929) ⋅ Old English Yuletide Festival, Victoria (Dec. 23-30, 1929) ⋅ Sea Music Festival, Victoria (Jan. 15-18, 1930) ⋅ Great-West Canadian Folk Dance, Folk Song & Handicraft Festival, Calgary (Mar. 19-22, 1930) ⋅ Highland Gathering/Scottish and Music Festival, Banff (Aug. 29- Sept 1, 1930) ⋅ Canadian Folk Song and Handicraft Festival, Quebec City (Oct. 16-18, 1930) ⋅ Highland Gathering/Scottish and Music Festival, Banff (Aug. 27-30, 1931) 
work_kd7ohyl5nje4tj3qyruszf3qwu	----	Page not found (404) | University of Helsinki Skip to main content Main navigation Page not found (404) Sorry, but the page cannot be found. The page may have been moved or deleted. You can try looking for the page with our search function or go to the front page of the University of Helsinki website. You can also try our degree finder or people finder. Maybe these links could help you? News Admissions and education Research Cooperation About us Faculties and units   If you want, you can also give us feedback. Footer Campuses Menu Footer P.O. Box 4 (Yliopistonkatu 3) 00014 University of Helsinki Switchboard: +358 (0) 2941 911 (mobile call charge / local network charge) 
work_kgykwdd6k5dnzefswie7obtue4	----	Françoise Joukovsky. Le Bel objet: les paradis artificiels de la Pléiade. By: Robert E. Campo Campo, Roberto E. Rev. of Le Bel objet: les paradis artificiels de la Pléiade, by Françoise Joukovsky. Romance Quarterly 42/2 (1995): 118-19. This is an Accepted Manuscript of an article published by Taylor & Francis in Romance Quarterly on 04 Nov 2012, available online: http://wwww.tandfonline.com/10.1080/08831157.1995.10545115. ***© Taylor & Francis. Reprinted with permission. No further reproduction is authorized without written permission from Taylor & Francis. This version of the document is not the version of record. Figures and/or pictures may be missing from this format of the document. *** Abstract: This article is a book review of Le Bel objet: les paradis artificiels de la Pléiade by Françoise Joukovsky. Book Review | French Literature | Visual Arts | French Renaissance Poetry | Pléiade Keywords: Article: Françoise Joukovsky. Le Bel objet: les paradis artificiels de la Pléiade. Paris: Champion, 1991. 225 pp. Considerable progress has been made in scholarly approaches to the relations between the verbal and plastic arts since René Wellek and others first questioned the practical value of impressionistic comparative studies like Helmut Hatzfeld's Literature through Art. Regrettably, however, the facile intermedia analog continues to attract and misdirect even the most astute of literary critics. With the present book, Françoise Joukovsky now joins their number. The celebrated French seiziemiste repeatedly draws impressionistic parallels, for example, between the pure colors that vitalize Pierre de Ronsard's poetic description of natural spectacles and those employed by the Fauves painters in the early 1900s (93). Although tantalizing, such comparisons in fact have no basis in art historical reality. Moreover, they add nothing to Joukovsky's central thesis, set forth in the first of her book's five chapters, according to which Ronsard and his fellow Pléiade poets would be obsessed with a discourse on beauty that simultaneously inscribes their concepts of the expressive power and the aesthetic status of poetry. The remaining chapters expose the most notable instances of this discourse: among the numerous poetic evocations of artificial (versus natural) beauty (ch. 2)—especially in the "ekphrastic" poems that verbally simulate the visual microcosms figured upon one or another "bel objet" (ch. 3) as well as among descriptions of gracefulness and the voluptuous quality of http://libres.uncg.edu/ir/uncg/clist.aspx?id=279 http://wwww.tandfonline.com/10.1080/08831157.1995.10545115 venustas (ch. 4), or, conversely, among accounts of transgressions against beauty, representations of the grotesque and the ugly (ch. 5). Other flaws also abound. On the conceptual level, there is the irresolute portrayal of the Pléiade authors' attitudes toward the plastic arts. While conceding that many poetic references to painting and sculpture contain "une ébauche de critique d'art" (99), Joukovsky fails to identify the objects of that criticism or to make any conclusive pronouncements about the Pléiade poets' stand in the contemporary paragone debate over the relative superiority of the arts. Also troubling are the textual inconsistencies. One wonders how, for example, Joukovsky can insist that Ronsard and his followers derived their "esthétique de la representation" from Petrarch (177) while elsewhere affirming their obligation to the verbal pictorialism of the Ancients. Joukovsky's lexical imprecision is similarly disturbing. Key terms are allowed to drift between their narrowest and broadest possible senses, and thereby to lose the best of their semantic potency. Just as "tableau" is used to denote either a pictorial work of art or any verbal description, so the meaning of "ekphrasis" is stretched to designate both "la description d'une oeuvre d'art réelle ou imaginaire" (129) and any "description d'un objet nature!" (130). Factual errors are another problem. The most prominent and surprising mistake is the confusion of the "Janet" in Ronsard's Elégie to this artist with Jean Clouet (61, 63, and 99). As Joukovsky herself pointed out in a 1987 essay on the same poem, Janet is in truth a sobriquet for François Clouet, Jean Clouet's son and the official royal portrait painter from 1541-72. Its shortcomings notwithstanding, this book is a must for all students and scholars of Pléiade poetics and French Renaissance aesthetics. Furthermore, true to form, Joukovsky successfully draws many significant yet heretofore unidentified intertextual connections. Her remarks on the debt of Pléiade authors to the epistemological theories of Charles de Bovelles and to the optics of Agrippa de Nettesheim, L. Le Roy, and others are particularly noteworthy. Likewise, Joukovsky's thoughtful comments on the aesthetics of laughter in Pléiade poetry promise to spark many interesting new discussions of this topic. Roberto E. Campo University of North Carolina-Greensboro 
work_krxaoq623ffq5fsuizvruyopza	----	Durham Research Online Deposited in DRO: 01 April 2011 Version of attached �le: Accepted Version Peer-review status of attached �le: Peer-reviewed Citation for published item: Banks, Kathryn (2010) 'Di�erence, cognition, and causality : Maurice Sc�eve's 'D�elie' and Charles de Bovelles's 'Ars Oppositorum'.', French studies., 64 (2). pp. 139-149. Further information on publisher's website: https://doi.org/10.1093/fs/knq008 Publisher's copyright statement: This is a pre-copy-editing author-produced PDF of an article accepted for publication in French Studies following peer review. The de�nitive publisher-authenticated version, Banks, Kathryn (2010) 'Di�erence, Cognition, and Causality: Maurice Sc�eve's 'D�elie' and Charles de Bovelles's 'Ars Oppositorum'.', French studies., 64(2): 139-149 is available online at: https://doi.org/10.1093/fs/knq008 Additional information: Use policy The full-text may be used and/or reproduced, and given to third parties in any format or medium, without prior permission or charge, for personal research or study, educational, or not-for-pro�t purposes provided that: • a full bibliographic reference is made to the original source • a link is made to the metadata record in DRO • the full-text is not changed in any way The full-text must not be sold in any format or medium without the formal permission of the copyright holders. Please consult the full DRO policy for further details. Durham University Library, Stockton Road, Durham DH1 3LY, United Kingdom Tel : +44 (0)191 334 3042 | Fax : +44 (0)191 334 2971 https://dro.dur.ac.uk https://www.dur.ac.uk https://doi.org/10.1093/fs/knq008 http://dro.dur.ac.uk/7920/ https://dro.dur.ac.uk/policies/usepolicy.pdf https://dro.dur.ac.uk 1 Difference, Cognition, and Causality: Maurice Scève’s Délie and Charles de Bovelles’s Ars Oppositorum Both Maurice Scève’s Délie (1544) and Charles de Bovelles’s Ars Oppositorum (1511), explore various kinds of difference, as well as the relationship between difference, identity and similarity. The Ars Oppositorum is a work of prose philosophy in Latin which offers a very unusual version of the Aristotelian square of opposites: it is a discussion of how opposites can be used to produce knowledge. 1 By contrast, the Délie is a collection of love lyric influenced by Petrarchism. Despite these differences of genre, as I have shown elsewhere, the Délie and the Ars share an interest in the function of various kinds of difference both within and between pairs of opposite terms; in particular, both texts undermine antithetical difference by confusing it with other kinds of difference, thus 1 On the Ars Oppositorum, see Maurice de Gandillac, ‘L’Art bovilien des opposés’, in Charles de Bovelles en son cinquième centenaire 1479-1979: Actes du colloque international tenu à Noyon les 14-15-16 septembre 1979, ed. by Jean-Claude Margolin (Paris: Guy Trédaniel, Éditions de la Maisnie, 1982), pp. 157-70; Joseph M. Victor, Charles de Bovelles 1479-1553: An Intellectual Biography (Geneva: Droz, 1978), pp. 73-87; and Jean-Claude Margolin, ‘Sur L’Art des opposés de Bovelles’, in Logique et Littérature à la Renaissance: Actes du Colloque de la Baume-les-Aix, Université de Provence, 16-18 septembre 1991, eds Marie-Luce Demonay-Launay and André Tournon (Paris: Champion, 1994), pp. 5-16. 2 challenging the categorisation of differences which was so central to Aristotelian logic. 2 Furthermore, I will argue in this essay that both texts are also interested in the relation of ‘opposition’ (or difference) to causality and to cognition, to the natural and to the human. Both writers explore the role of the human subject in establishing difference, and suggest that human cognition may be very powerful, so that it even seems to usurp the function of natural causality. However, ultimately Scève and Bovelles diverge in their assessment of the value of difference, both in general and for the human subject in particular. I shall focus in this essay upon Scève’s ‘jealous sun’ dizains in which, I have argued elsewhere, the beloved lady alters relations of difference within the cosmos. 3 My aim in reading a poetic text alongside a theoretical one is not to construct a univocal account of Renaissance conceptions of difference, or to 2 See my article ‘Opposites and Identities: Maurice Scève’s Délie and Charles de Bovelles’s Ars Oppositorum’. On antiperistasis in Scève and Bovelles, see Stephen Murphy, ‘Bovelles. Scève. Bruno. Antiperistasis’, Allegorica 14 (1993), pp. 39-52. Other discussions of Scève in the context of Bovelles’s thought are Jacqueline Risset, L’Anagramme du désir: Sur la Délie de Maurice Scève (Paris, Fourbis, 1995), pp. 91-100; Doranne Fenoaltea, “Si haulte Architecture”: The Design of Scève’s Délie (Kentucky: French Forum, 1982), pp. 84-92. 3 ‘Opposites and Identities’. 3 consider philosophy as a source for poetry; 4 instead, I will locate not only the similarities but also the divergences between the Délie and the Ars. Indeed the generic differences between the two texts mean that they may have provided contrasting conceptual possibilities: thus they illuminate different possible ways of thinking about opposition and sameness in early sixteenth-century France. Some differences arise from the simple fact that, while love lyric explores particular terms which it often places in opposition to one another, the Ars Oppositorum sets out to analyse the principle of opposition. More specifically for the concerns of this essay, Bovelles, in common with much sixteenth-century prose philosophy, tends to refer to ‘man’ Ŕ or the human intellectus (understanding / perception) Ŕ in the abstract singular; by contrast, love lyric depicts both the subjective experience of a ie and also the desired tu or elle; as I will discuss, this divergence between the Ars and the Délie is central to their contrasting perceptions of difference in the human subject. 4 Cf Hans Staub’s reading of the Délie in the context of the thought of Nicholas of Cusa, an important influence upon Bovelles: Le Curieux Désir: Scève et Peletier du Mans, poètes de la connaissance (Geneva: Droz, 1967). 4 i) Cognition and Causality: The Intellectus And Nature In The Ars Oppositorum Both Scève and Bovelles are deeply interested in the role of the human in relation to opposition. Two key questions emerge in relation to this. Firstly, what role does human perception or understanding play in opposition? That is, what effects does the human gaze or the human mind exert upon opposition? And, secondly, how are human subjects affected by opposition? In other words, are human beings subject to opposition? Bovelles states in his first chapter that oppositions can stem either from nature or reason: his first subheading states (using a spatial image typical of Bovelles’s writing) that ‘we call opposites things placed facing each other, turned towards one another, separated by the distance of either a natural or a rational line’. 5 Opposites include, for Bovelles, all things placed in relation to one another ‘either by nature or by understanding/perception (the intellectus)’ (p. 36). Oppositions of substance (substantia) and / or the thing (res) stem from nature, whereas oppositions of 5 ‘Opposita dicuntur contra se posita, in alterutrum conversa, interstite aut naturali aut rationali dyametro distantia’: ed. by Pierre Magnard, (Paris: Librairie Philosophique J. Vrin, 1984), p. 36. I refer throughout to Magnard’s edition; translations into English are my own, although I have consulted Magnard’s French translation. All italics are my own. 5 reasoning (ratio) stem from the intellectus. 6 Bovelles’s first chapter emphasises at some length that the intellectus cannot alter the nature or substance of things Ŕ it cannot divide them or put them together; the intellectus cannot ‘create’ or ‘engender’ anything. Instead the human intellectus adds rationes (‘reasonings’) to things, producing conceptions which stem from the mind rather than simply from nature. 7 Therefore, the process of human reasoning embedded in Bovelles’s square of opposites Ŕ while described as creative 8 Ŕ seems to be one of cognition rather than genuine creation. 6 Bovelles also discusses the intellectus in the Liber de Intellectu and the De Sapiente in particular (both published together with the Ars in 1511). I restrict myself here to the Ars Oppositorum, where the intellectus is discussed in its relation to opposition. 7 ‘For the intellectus cannot change the nature or substance of things, nor can it divide them or put them together … the intellectus creates nothing and engenders nothing … The intellectus has, however, although sterile and infertile as far as substance is concerned, some force and fertility of its own, by which it can be called creator of rationes (reasonings); it adds, you see, to the things themselves its own rationes, which it derives, contains and grasps. The conception which is in the human intellectus is the fruit and offspring of the human intellectus and the mind’s own work, not the work of nature alone’: ‘Nam intellectus rerum naturam et substantiam immutare non potest, neque enim illas dividit aut componit … intellectus … nil creat gignitque nichil … Habet tamen intellectus licet substantia sterilis atque infecundus propriam aliquam vim et fecunditatem, qua rationum opifex dicitur; proprias quippe rebus ipsis addit rationes, illas haurit, continet et complectitur. Is enim conceptus qui humano inest intellectui fecunditas est et partus humani intellectus ac peculiare mentis opus, non opus simplicis nature’ (pp. 44-6). 8 It produces ‘a productive development of discourse’: ‘fecunda quedam orationis propagatio’ (p. 32). 6 However, later in the Ars (especially in chapters 4 and 7), Bovelles suggests that opposites are not natural. Although Bovelles stated in the first chapter that opposites can be ‘rational’ or natural, in the fourth chapter he says that in nature all things are in relations of identity to themselves rather than relations of opposition to other things; indeed the fourth chapter is entitled ‘That all things have been made by nature in identity, and none in opposition’. 9 Furthermore, Bovelles tends to write as if the production of oppositions might even affect nature. Whereas things in nature are ‘in their own place’ and never move from it, relations of opposition force things into places which are not their own (like earth into the place of fire and vice versa), and put different things into the same place (pp. 58-60). Chapter 7 aligns opposition with the intellectus by contradistinction to nature: all oppositions result from the intellectus rather than from nature, and ‘the intellect is the opposition of the entirety of nature’. 10 The intellectus is presented as a domain in which all things are opposed, by contrast with the 9 ‘Quod omnia a natura in identitate sint facta, in oppositione nulla’ (p. 58). 10 ‘Si a natura nulla est oppositio, superest ut omnis oppositio sit ab intellectu’ (heading of first subsection, p. 80); ‘intellectus est totius nature oppositio, natura vero omnium identitas’ (heading of second subsection, p. 80). 7 domain of nature in which all things are separated and identical. 11 The intellectus is a ‘judge’ (iudex) of all things and of their oppositions and differences. Moreover, the domains of the intellectus and nature are not entirely independent. The judging by the intellectus is necessary to nature. 12 The intellectus is represented as a sun (p. 88) or a light which illuminates nature (p. 84); 13 without this ‘light’, nature would be in a state of ‘chaos’, ‘confusion’ and ‘mixity’ (p. 84). 14 The introduction by the intellectus of opposition thus seems to affect nature. 11 See in particular the subsection heading ‘Omnia in mundo sunt separate et eadem, coniuncta vero sunt, et opposite in intellectu’ (p. 82) 12 See also Bovelles’s De Sapiente, as well as Pierre Magnard’s ‘L’Idéal du sage dans le De Sapiente de Charles de Bovelles’, in Charles de Bovelles en son cinquième centenaire 1479-1979: Actes du colloque international tenu à Noyon les 14-15-16 septembre 1979, ed. by Jean-Claude Margolin (Paris: Guy Trédaniel, Éditions de la Maisnie, 1982), pp. 101-8. 13 On solar imagery in Bovelles’s De Sapiente, see Cesare Vasoli, ‘Thèmes solaires du De Sapiente’, in Charles de Bovelles en son cinquième centenaire 1479-1979: Actes du colloque international tenu à Noyon les 14-15-16 septembre 1979, ed. by Jean-Claude Margolin (Paris: Guy Trédaniel, Éditions de la Maisnie, 1982), pp. 109-28. 14 Bovelles does not explain clearly how this depiction of nature as confusion fits with his representation of opposition as a mixing of things which is be contrasted with the separation or non-mixing of things in nature: see in particular, pp. 80-1. Bovelles’s spatial metaphors are often deeply complex. The notion of a light dividing Chaos recalls God but Bovelles has earlier made it clear that he does not mean the divine intellectus, which in any case ‘is nature itself’ (p. 45). 8 Furthermore, although Bovelles repeatedly says that opposition is impossible in nature and exists only in the intellectus, the intellectus’s opposition of things is repeatedly presented as if it had a strong and violent effect upon nature. Both chapters 4 and 7 emphasise that opposition is a violence Ŕ or a force (vis) Ŕ inflicted upon things, and that it acts against nature (pp. 58-60, 80-2). The terms violentum / violenta and contra naturam / nature contraria are repeated. Nature does not permit opposition, and does not permit earth and fire to swap places, and yet in some sense the intellectus does bring things into places other than their natural ones, as if it could reorder space and the cosmic hierarchy: ‘with just as much rest and peace as fire remains high, with this much immobility and peace earth is at rest immobile below. And with as much quarrel and difficulty fire is maintained below, as with force and discord the earth is at rest above. Identity, therefore, and the peace of both elements, is that fire be high and earth be low. On the other hand, the quarrel and discord of both is that fire be placed and positioned below and earth above.’ 15 15 ‘quanta quiete et pace ignis sursum immobilis perseverat, tanta immobilitate et pace terra deorsum quiescit immobilis. Et quanta lite atque difficultate ignis continetur in immo, tanta vi et discordia terra quiescit in summo. Identitas igitur est et utriusque pax elementi: ignem esse in summon et terram in immo. Utriusque vero lis et discordia ignem in immo et terram in summo sisti et collocari’ (p. 58). 9 There is a strong sense of the power exerted by the human intellectus upon the world: Bovelles tends to write as if cognition really could affect nature, as if cognition could almost be causality. Perhaps one might even read his emphasis that the intellectus ‘creates nothing and engenders nothing’ as betraying doubts concerning the absolute separation of cognition and causality. 16 There is a rather uncertain relation between cognition and change, between the intellectus and nature; there is a sense that cognition and creativity might overlap in function. ii) Cognition And Causality: The Lady’s Gaze And The Je In The Délie Bovelles presents human understanding or perception (the intellectus) as a light which violently introduces difference into the world, which puts things into unnatural places and different things into the same place, and which reverses the cosmic hierarchy. This provides some startling comparisons and contrasts with Scève’s ‘jealous sun’ dizains. I have argued in a previous article that Scève represents his lady as a bright light who, through her 16 In the second ‘circle’ of Le Fèvre de La Boderie’s Encyclie, the teacher-Muse corrects the secrétaire’s mistake in confusing cognition and natural change, and lists the differences between them. 10 brightness, first, introduces difference into the sun, making it different from itself, and, secondly, alters the relations of difference between the day and night, so that both seem to co-exist in the same place, or to occupy the place of the other. 17 Importantly for my comparison with Bovelles’s intellectus- light, it is the lady’s status as light which brings about this introduction and modification of difference, and which thus alters nature. Indeed, although the ‘jealous sun’ topos and related images are common in Petrarch’s poetry and in sixteenth-century French love lyric, the Délie places a particular emphasis upon light in this context, whereas, for example, Du Bellay Ŕ in his Olive, published five years after the Délie Ŕ evokes the heat of the sun and its benefits for nature. 18 Furthermore, the light of the lady can also be thought of as a site of perception or cognition. It may be her eyes which are suns: they are ‘deux Soleils’ (D269). 19 Indeed there is a strong sense of similarity between the eye and the sun both within the Délie and in other contemporary texts. It was 17 ‘Opposites and Identities’. 18 ‘J’ay veu, Amour, (et tes beaulx traictz dorez / M’en soient tesmoings,) suyvant ma souvereine, / Naistre les fleurs de l’infertile arene / Apres ses pas dignes d’estre adorez: / Phebus honteux ses cheveulx honorez / Cacher, alors que les vents par la plaine / Eparpilloient de leur souëfve halaine / Ceulx là qui sont de fin or colorez’: L’Olive, ed. E. Caldarini (Geneva: Droz, 1974); first published in 1549, s. XVII. 19 Throughout this essay I cite Gérard Defaux’s edition of the Délie (Geneva: Droz, 2004). 11 commonplace to refer to the sun as an eye, and also to the eye as a light; thus Scève refers to the sun as the ‘Œil du monde’ (D303) and to the eye as a ‘lumiere’ (D7, D13). The eye was widely believed to cast light during the process of vision. 20 In Leone Ebreo’s Dialoghi d’amore, the ‘grand bréviaire du platonisme lyonnais’ and an important intertext for the Délie, 21 Philon explains at length that both the eye and the sun both illuminate and see (as do the human intellect and the divine intellect): Comme l’entendement humain est comparé à l’intellect divin, pource que l’un et l’autre void et illumine, et comme l’œil est comparé au Soleil, à voir et illuminer egalement, et aussi comme l’œil se compare à l’entendement humain en deux choses (asavoir, illuminer et voir): aussi le Soleil, pource qu’il void et illumine les choses, ressemble le divin intellect. 22 20 See David C. Lindberg, Theories of Vision from Al-Kindi to Kepler (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1976). 21 Verdun-L. Saulnier, Maurice Scève (ca. 1500-1560) (Geneva / Paris: Slatkine, 1981), first published in 1948-9, vol. I, pp. 209, 249; T. Anthony Perry, Erotic Spirituality: The Integrative Tradition from Leone Ebreo to John Donne (University, Ala.: The University of Alabama Press, 1980), pp. 35-52; Kathryn Banks, ‘The Cosmic, the Human, and the Divine: The Role of Poetic Images in Guillaume de Saluste Du Bartas’s Sepmaine and Maurice Scève’s Délie’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Cambridge, 2005), pp. 108-68. 22 Dialogues d’Amour, ed. by T. Anthony Perry, transl. by Pontus de Tyard (Chapel Hill: The University of North Carolina Press, 1974); translation first published in 1551, p. 168. 12 Similarly, for the French philosophical poet Isaac Habert, the process of light being cast by the eye was sufficiently similar to that of light being cast by the sun to allow examples from one process to account for something about the other: to explain why one sometimes perceives three suns or moons, Habert says that the sun is reflected in a wet cloud because its rays are sent back to it just as are the rays from our eyes when we look at a river or mirror. 23 Bovelles himself develops a lengthy analogy between the celestial bodies and the human faculties, in which the sun Ŕ an ‘eye’ Ŕ corresponds to man or to human reason. 24 Thus one could argue that in the Délie the powerful lady Ŕ who introduces difference to the world Ŕ is not only a light but also a gaze; thus Scève’s description of his lady-light recalls Bovelles’s description of the perception of the intellectus more generally. However, whereas Bovelles refers to the human intellectus, in the Délie there are of course two human loci (if indeed ‘human’ is an accurate description of the cosmic and divinised lady-light). Moreover, the human gaze of the je is much less empowered than that of the lady. Like the sun, 25 23 Les Trois Livres des meteores (Paris: J. Richier, 1585), ff. 19v-20r. 24 Vasoli, ‘Thèmes solaires’, p. 114-6. 25 ‘Opposites and Identities’. 13 the je is subjected to darkness by the lady. 26 In addition, his perception or understanding is frequently violated precisely by her more powerful gaze. The lady undermines his gaze: ‘Les yeulx, desquelz la clarté tant me nuyt, / Qu’elle esblouyt ma veue entierement’ (D386); ‘Par ton regard … / Tu m’esblouis … la veue (D115). She obscures not only his gaze but also his cognition in the form of pensée, sens, and congnoissance: 27 Ce bas Soleil, qui au plus hault fait honte, Nous a daingné de sa rare lumiere, Quand sa blancheur, qui l’yvoire surmonte, A esclercy le brouillas de Fourviere: Et s’arrestant l’une, et l’aultre riviere, Si grand’ clarté s’est icy demonstrée, Que quand mes yeulx l’ont soubdain rencontrée, Ilz m’ont perdu au bien, qui seul me nuict. Car son cler iour serenant la Contrée, En ma pensée a mys l’obscure nuit (D128) 26 Other contemporary poets also imply that the je and the sun are similarly challenged by their encounter with the lady, but often suggest that the je survives his encounter with the lady where the sun failed to do so: see, for example, sonnet IX of Jacques Peletier Du Mans’s Amour des Amours, ed. by Jean-Charles Monferran (Paris: Société des Textes Français Modernes, 1996), pp. 29-30; sonnet XI of the Premier Livre des Sonnets pour Hélène, in Ronsard’s Amours, ed. by Françoise Joukovsky (Paris: Gallimard, 1974), p. 286. 27 See also D7, D51, D92, D269, D354 14 Au recevoir l’aigu de tes esclairs Tu m’offuscas et sens, et congnoissance (D80) Thus, while one ‘human’ light or gaze exerts an effect upon nature, another site of human perception Ŕ the je Ŕ has his light or gaze undermined by the same gaze which affects the natural world. 28 iii) Difference And The Human Subject In The Délie Furthermore, the je also suffers a sort of ‘confusion’ or ‘mixing’ or ‘division’. Images of melting and burning are familiar from other Petrarchist poetry but Scève is often particularly insistent upon developing these images of self-disintegration. For example, in D373, his eye dissolves and melts into tears, which become a river which freezes him and in so doing Ŕ somewhat 28 Other implications of this are discussed in my ‘The Cosmic, the Human, and the Divine: The Role of Poetic Images in Guillaume de Saluste Du Bartas’s Sepmaine and Maurice Scève’s Délie’ (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Cambridge, 2005), Part II, and my book under preparation, Cosmos and Image in the French Renaissance. 15 paradoxically Ŕ ‘me confond’, that is to say, ‘mixes’ and metamorphoses him. 29 A son aspect mon œil reveremment S’incline bas, tant le Cœur la revere, Et l’ayme, et craint trop perseveramment En sa rigueur benignement severe. Car en l’ardeur si fort il persevere, Qu’il se dissoult, et tout en pleurs se fond, Pleurs restagnantz en un grand lac profound, Dont descent puis ce ruisseau argentin, Qui me congele, et ainsi me confond Tout transformé en sel Agringentin (D373) His eye also ‘dissolves’ in D200, and, in D13, his body is reduced to cinders which the wind threatens to scatter. In several dizains, the lady-sun ‘melts’ the je: Comme gelée au monter du Soleil, Mon ame sens, qui toute se distille Au rencontrer le rayant de son œil (D290) Je me deffis à si belle rencontre, Comme rouse au lever du Soleil (D223) 29 Gérard Defaux explains that this verb comes from the Latin confundo. He provides the following possible meanings for it: mêler, brouiller, render méconnaissable, métamorphoser (vol. II, p. 407). 16 Comme neige au Soleil, je me fondz (D118) Thus, in the Délie, the human subject is subjected by the lady-sun to a sort of fragmentation or division of the self, and a sort of mixing of himself. This recalls some of the terms used to describe the effects of the intellectus- sun upon nature in Bovelles’s Ars. Opposition brings about a divisio in nature. In addition, although paradoxically nature is presented in chapter 7 as mixed unless illuminated by the intellectus, elsewhere we are told that nature can remain ‘unmixed’ only because it is involved in identity rather than opposition (which, as we have seen, is produced by the intellectus). 30 In other words, the opposition introduced by the intellectus-light brings with it both mixing and division. Thus in both the Délie and the Ars, a human light (the lady or the intellectus) inflict not only opposition but also, by the same token, mixing and division. However, in the Ars Oppositorum, terms like ‘mixing’ and ‘division’ apply to what occurs in some sense to nature: they are associated with the discussions of cosmic things being in their own place or an unnatural place. By contrast, in the Délie, although the sun is subjected to complex relations of difference, terms suggesting division and mixing refer to the effects of a perception or gaze not so much upon nature as upon 30 Pp. 66, 76. See n. 13. 17 the poetic subject. Furthermore, division and mixing describe the state of the poetic subject within himself rather than in his relations to other terms. iv) Difference in the Ars Oppositorum: Violence, the Trinity, and the Human Subject The ‘division’ and ‘mixing’ of the je may have its positive aspects (for example, ‘si belle rencontre’, D223 quoted above), but it is often presented in quite anguished terms. Like the sun, the je has his light darkened, and is subjected to difference. Furthermore, while the lady’s infliction of difference may make the sun ‘jealous’, she has a particularly negative impact upon the human subject, who melts and is burnt and so on. By contrast, in the Ars Oppositorum the human subject has a more privileged experience of difference. The human soul does experience a sort of separation from itself but this is expressed in very positive terms. Bovelles writes that the substance of the human soul Ŕ in common with divine and angelic substances alone Ŕ can experience true wisdom or sapientia. 31 This sapientia involves separation (discretio) of the human soul from itself but this is thought of as multiplication or development (propagatio), which contrasts with Scève’s trickling or blowing away. This process in the Ars is 31 pp. 46-8. See also De Sapiente and ‘L’Idéal du sage’. 18 undeniably positive: not only is it something shared with the divine but it also involves gaining knowledge of the self; by contrast, as we have seen, the je in the Délie laments the undermining of his gaze or understanding, in other words, of his ability to know. Furthermore, although the human intellectus is in some sense divided, Bovelles states that it is the only sublunary ‘thing’ which is indivisible and unitary: ‘it is evident … that under the heavens only the human intellectus is indivisible, truly one and immortal.’ 32 The intellectus as described by Bovelles thus has a radically different experience of selfhood and knowledge from that of the human subject in the Délie. Fernand Hallyn, in his discussion of Bovelles’s De Sapiente (On the Wise Man) Ŕ which was published with the Ars in 1511 and which further explores Bovelles’s notion of human sapientia Ŕ, suggests that the multiplication of Bovelles’s human subject points to a gap inherent in representation and resemblance, that is, to the gap of difference, which, according to Hallyn, the metaphysics, the aesthetics, and the art of Bovelles’s period were all striving to suppress. 33 Hallyn’s analysis makes 32 ‘Manifestum est … sub celis solus humanus intellectus esse impartibilis vere unus atque immortalis’ (p. 82). 33 ‘Le Microcosme ou l’incomplétude de la représentation’, in Romanica Gandensia XVII (1980), pp. 183- 92. 19 use of Freud, and is informed by modern theories of subjectivity. Indeed, for the modern reader familiar with psychoanalysis, it may be easier to accept Hallyn’s notion of representation than Bovelles’s alignment of self- knowledge with self-unity: in Lacan’s famous mirror-stage, it is by perceiving oneself that one becomes subject to fragmentation and loses one’s infant wholeness. However, Bovelles’s own writing does not point to this psychoanalytic conception of the human subject: if this conception is indeed suppressed, then the suppression seems very effective. Hallyn observes that Bovelles’s multiplication of the human subject as ‘homo- homo-homo’ constitutes a ‘chain’ which could be infinitely extended, like any chain of signifiers; its triple nature is, Hallyn suggests, arbitrary. However, as far as Bovelles is concerned, the human soul takes the form of a circle rather than a chain (p. 185); moreover, the tripling of the ‘homo’ is far from arbitrary, since it bestows upon man the Trinitarian number and therefore supports Bovelles’s suggestion that difference within the human intellectus resembles that within the divine. For Bovelles, then, the human subject Ŕ or rather the human soul Ŕ can achieve a privileged sort of self-difference, a ‘separation’ from the self which is shared only with the divine, and which sounds rather different from the divisio imposed upon nature by the intellectus and opposition. Indeed, 20 the divisio of nature is, as we have seen, sometimes painted in implicitly negative terms as a violence or force inflicted upon things. However, these negative terms are not distributed evenly throughout the Ars, and ultimately even the opposition within nature Ŕ while it cannot constitute the privileged sapientia of the human subject Ŕ does not seem to be conceived as negative. Indeed it is often described using the language of the Trinity. Thus in the opening chapter, Bovelles explains that the two extremes of an opposition Ŕ the monad and the dyad Ŕ ‘engender’ a third term, the triad; this ‘engendering’ of a third term clearly recalls the production of the Holy Spirit by the Father and the Son. This sort of language returns repeatedly. For example, in the medium point there is a trace of the creativity of the divine Trinity (p.40), and in the three circles which represent the extremes and the middle term, one can perceive the mystery of the Trinity (p. 51). Although chapters 4, 6 and 7 in particular emphasise the violence of opposition, the final chapters return to emphasising the circles, the triad, and the middle term, which can be described using Trinitarian language. Thus, while the dyad of opposites might imply violence, this violence is apparently redeemed by the triad which is much more positively conceived. As a result, while difference occasionally appears violent and negative, in the case of the human soul it resembles Trinitarian difference, 21 and even in other cases it implicitly bears some resemblance to it. If all things cannot be quite so definitively created ‘in the image of God’ (Genesis 26-7) as man was, they nonetheless seem to bear some trace of his image. 34 *** Thus the argument that Bovelles suppresses negative conceptions of difference is difficult to ground in Bovelles’s own writing. However, another early sixteenth-century text Ŕ the Délie Ŕ shares some of Bovelles’s apprehensions of difference and yet ultimately construes them with more negative implications. Like the Ars Oppositorum, the Délie plays with non- binary models of difference; however, ultimately these non-binary models imply a less positive experience of difference, particularly for the human subject. Both the Ars and the Délie suggest that a powerful light or gaze might function to create differences. However, in Bovelles’s Ars both the divine and the human can have a privileged relation to difference and to knowledge. By contrast, this sapientia seems to be an impossibility for the je in the Délie: he perceives the power of a cognitive and creative ‘light’ in the 34 This is a particular inflection of the notion that the cosmos and individual cosmic phenomena constitute images of God, an idea which justified the project of natural theology, that is the attempt to know God by studying the natural world. 22 figure of the lady, yet he suffers from this gaze rather than being similarly empowered. Scève may lack Bovelles’s confidence in the positive nature of difference because of love lyric’s depiction of the beloved with the traits of the divine. Indeed, in his De Sapiente Bovelles makes it clear that the movement of human cognition cannot be dissociated from the downward movement of the divine, which is a gift from God to man. 35 The ie in the Délie relates not to God but rather to a lady who, in accordance with love lyric’s divinisation of the beloved, has usurped God’s place and yet is cruel: 36 whereas the human subject in the Ars has a positive experience of difference because of his relationship with the angelic and the divine, the divinity of the Délie inflicts difference rather than redeeming it. 37 35 ‘Le mouvement anagogique de la raison ne saurait cependant être disjoint du mouvement condescendant de la lumière divine’ (‘L’Idéal du sage’, p. 108). 36 In particular, whereas in the Délie the lady is the desired sun, in the De Sapiente God is the sun ‘vers lequel tend par nécessité tout désir ou savoir’ (Vasoli, ‘Thèmes solaires’, p. 118). 37 My doctoral thesis discusses, from a different angle, the relationship between Scève’s depiction of the lady in the Délie and contemporary depictions of God; it also discusses the link between this and the suffering of the je. See ‘The Cosmic, the Human, and the Divine’, Part II. 
work_igr2gyy23be5zg5kwgrybncswu	----	THE EVOLUTION OF URBAN PUBLIC PARK DESIGN IN EUROPE AND AMERICA: VANCOUVER ADAPTION TO 1913 by DIANE BEVERLEY HINDS B.A., U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1976 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS i n THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES SCHOOL OF COMMUNITY AND REGIONAL PLANNING We accept t h i s t h e s i s as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA October, 1979 (c) Diane Beverley Hinds, 1979 In p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s in p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f the requirements f o r an advanced degree at the U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the L i b r a r y s h a l l make i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and study. I f u r t h e r agree t h a t p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e copying o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y purposes may be granted by the Head of my Department or by h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . It i s understood that copying or p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l gain s h a l l not be allowed without my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . Diane Hinds Department of Community and Regional Planning The U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h Columbia 2075 Wesbrook Place Vancouver, Canada V6T 1W5 Date October 10 1979 - i i - ABSTRACT The 19th Century Victorian writer, John Ruskin, made the observation, "The measure of any great c i v i l i z a t i o n is i t s c i t i e s ; and the measure of a city's greatness is to be found in the quality of i t s public spaces — i t s parkland and squares". The objective of this thesis is to trace the ideas, the development, and the evolution of the design of the public park from the eve of the movement for public parks in Victorian England, to the Vancouver park landscape in 1913. The identification and interpretation of historic design trends, social attitudes and regional influences on urban parks was based on: in the case of Europe and North America, an i n i t i a l literature review of the history of the urban park — starting in the 18th Century; and in the case of Vancouver, on archival material from the Vancouver City Archives, contem- porary literature and social histories of the City, and contemporary photo- graphs of Vancouver's early parks. The f i r s t public parks in England that were originally designed for public use, were largely the result of the negative effects of the industrial revolution. The already established natural landscape design traditions for the private estates, together with the desire to improve the city l i v i n g con- ditions, resulted in the naturalistic park, which was designed to enable people to "escape" back to nature. The historical study, showed that the f i r s t public parks were devel- oped in the industrial North of England,where local philanthropists donated their money, and more importantly, their time toward creating a better l i v i n g environment for the community. In the City of London where the effects of the - i i i - i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n were not as evident on. the landscape, the e x i s t i n g r o y a l parks were redesigned to provide passive r e c r e a t i o n and a e s t h e t i c pleasure f o r the c i t i z e n s of Western London. New parks were a l s o c r e a t e d , p a r t i c u l a r l y i n the East End of London, where a c c e s s i b i l i t y to the r o y a l parks was l i m i t e d . In the e a r l y 19th century, Georges Haussmann completely redesigned the c e n t r a l urban s t r u c t u r e of P a r i s . He and Alphand used the E n g l i s h N a t u r a l Landscape park as a model f o r the Bois de Boulogne and the Bois de Vincennes, former r o y a l hunting parks. Although these l a r g e r urban parks r e f l e c t e d the E n g l i s h i n f l u e n c e , Alphand created numerous smaller parks and squares throughout the c i t y which d i s p l a y e d very formal c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s and which d i s t i n g u i s h e d them from the B r i t i s h open space system. The Englishman's t r a d i t i o n a l love of the r u r a l countryside was t r a n s f e r r e d across the A t l a n t i c where F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted and h i s f o l l o w e r s became the major exponents of t h i s philosophy i n the many park landscapes that they designed i n North America. The Americans' most s i g n i f i c a n t c o n t r i - bution to the park movement was the development of park systems, which i n - volved the i n t e g r a t i o n of green space i n t o the c i t y s t r u c t u r e . The French sense of c i v i c p r i d e and f l a i r f o r f o r m a l i t y surfaced i n the United States at the end of the 19th century i n the Beaux A r t s i n s p i r e d C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement. While the n a t u r a l i s t i c design of p u b l i c parks i n the U.S. d i d not change, the movement i n f l u e n c e d the design of the entrance to: many parks and the manner i n which parks were presented as an important component of the urban f a b r i c . - i v - In Canada, many c i t i e s i n h e r i t e d parklands from the f e d e r a l govern- ment, which were former defence posts or t r a i n i n g grounds f o r the m i l i t a r y . Canadians d i d not h i r e expert landscape a r c h i t e c t s to design these parks and consequently, the development of urban p u b l i c parks was u s u a l l y incremental. The study of Vancouver i n d i c a t e d that the a c q u i s i t i o n of Stanley Park, Vancouver's f i r s t and most important park, was not the r e s u l t of a com- mitted park p o l i c y , but the r e s u l t of the a v a i l a b i l i t y of the Coal P e n i n s u l a m i l i t a r y reserve. S i m i l a r l y , the a c q u i s i t i o n of Hastings Park i n 1888 was a grant from the P r o v i n c i a l Government, and C l a r k ' s Park was a g i f t to the C i t y from a Toronto r e a l t o r i n 1890. The d e s i r e to simply acquire land f o r park purposes was an a t t i t u d e that was to become prevalent i n Vancouver f o r many years. Between 1886 and 1913, the development of the Vancouver park l a n d - scape was l a r g e l y i n f l u e n c e d by three t h i n g s : the a t t i t u d e s held by the people l i v i n g i n Vancouver at that time; the ideas and i n f l u e n c e s of other p l a c e s , p r i m a r i l y from B r i t a i n and the American West Coast; and the s o c i a l and p o l i t i c a l make up of the community m a n i f e s t i n g i t s e l f i n v a r i o u s c i v i c assoc- i a t i o n s and ratepayers groups who asserted themselves i n the d e c i s i o n making process. The b a s i c design features of Stanley Park were developed i n the i n i t i a l years between 1886 and 1900. These c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s included: the park d r i v e running around the periphery of the park; the walking t r a i l s through the heart of the park; the Brockton Point A t h l e t i c f i e l d s ; the r e l a t i v e l y formal entrance to the park w i t h the nearby zoo; and the Second Beach bathing area. -v- During the very prosperous years of 1900 to 1913, these features were f u r t h e r developed i n the s t y l e that was r e f l e c t i v e of the current a t t i - tudes held by the i n f l u e n t i a l c i t i z e n s of Vancouver at that time. These years a l s o saw the f i r s t major park expansion i n Vancouver as the c i t i z e n s supported the Park Board's d e s i r e to acquire land f o r park purposes. The a c q u i s i t i o n and development of the neighbourhood parks were u s u a l l y the r e s u l t of lobbying by the ward ratepayers. S i m i l a r l y , the c r e a t i o n of supervised c h i l d r e n ' s playgrounds i n the 1920's and the develop- ment of Second, E n g l i s h Bay, and K i t s i l a n o Beaches i n the e a r l y 1900's, hap- pened only a f t e r p a r t i c u l a r groups provided the impetus f o r these f a c i l i t i e s . In 1913, Vancouver had an expanding and p l e a s i n g park system — but a system that had l u c k i l y experienced p o s i t i v e incremental development. Although the Park Board lacked a development p o l i c y f o r Vancouver's parks, the citizens'- i n s t i n c t i v e d e s i r e f o r n a t u r a l i s t i c parks guided the park system through the i n i t i a l years of development and managed to overcome a major threat to the n a t u r a l i n t e g r i t y of Stanley Park. - v i - TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. THOUGHTS, IDEAS, AND TRENDS THAT LED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF PUBLIC PARKS 1 Summary , 11 II. THE DEVELOPMENT OF PUBLIC PARKS IN BRITAIN, FRANCE AND THE CONTINENT 20 The Legacy of the Industrial Revolution 20 The Early Support of Public Parks . . . 22 The Contribution of Joseph Paxton 24 The Development in the North of England 31 The Development of Public Parks in London 34 The Parks of Paris 38 The Development of Public Parks on the Continent 44 Summary 46 III. THE DEVELOPMENT OF PARKS AND PARK SYSTEMS IN THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA 65 Introduction 65 Andrew Jackson Downing and the American Landscape 66 Fredrick Law Olmsted and Central Park . . 70 The Far Reaching Effects of Central Park 76 The Development of the Park System 80 The West Coast Experience 84 Active Recreation 89 The Development of Public Parks in Canada 91 Summary 100 IV. THE CITY BEAUTIFUL MOVEMENT 120 Introduction 120 The City Beautiful Movement in the United States 120 Civic Art in Britain 126 The City Beautiful Movement in Canada 130 Summary 137 - v i i - CHAPTER PAGE V. THE VANCOUVER PARK SYSTEM: 1886-1913 146 Stanley Park 146 The Beginnings of Stanley Park . 147 The I n i t i a l Years, 1886 - 1900 148 R e f l e c t i o n s on the I n i t i a l Years 152 The Boom Years, 1900 - 1913 157 Deadman's I s l a n d Issue 158 Mawson's Plan f o r the Head of Coal Harbour 161 R e f l e c t i o n s on the Boom Years 163 Summary 167 Hastings Park 168 The C i t y Park System to 1913 173 Playgrounds and P u b l i c Beaches . . . . 177 VI. SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS ..... 201 The Development of the P u b l i c Park 201 Vancouver's Park Landscape to 1913 203 A t t i t u d e s 204 Influences 206 The Community 209 BIBLIOGRAPHY 213 - v i i i - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS CHAPTER I PAGE 1. Stowe Estate as designed by Bridgeman 1739 15 2. Stowe Estate as modified by Kent 1769 16 3. Stowe E s t a t e as modified by Brown 1780 17 4. Brown's formula landscape and Repton's m o d i f i c a t i o n s . .. 18 5. Gardenesque landscape 19 CHAPTER I I 1. Adelaide Parkland, 1830's .. .. 51 2. Birkenhead Park, 1847 52 3. Paxton's C r y s t a l Palace, 1855 53 4. C r y s t a l Palace 54 5. I t a l i a n a t e landscape 55 6. A r c h i t e c t u r a l accompaniments to I t a l i n a t e gardens of the 1860's . 56 7. Gardenesque on a Park Scale: Joshua Major's design f o r the Leeds B o t a n i c a l and Z o o l o g i c a l Garden 57 8. V i c t o r i a Park, 1846 58 9. Bois de Boulogne before i t s transformation by Alphand 59 10. Bois de Boulogne a f t e r i t s transformation by Alphand . . . . . . . . . 60 11. Pare des Buttes-Chaumont . 61 12. E n g l i s c h e r Garten, Munich 1789 62 13. F r i t z Schumacher's Stadtpark, Hamburg 1909 63 14. Leberecht Migge's Reinhardt Garden 1910 . . . . . . . . 64 CHAPTER I I I 1. C e n t r a l Park, 1857 105 2. C e n t r a l Park, Southeast p o r t i o n , 1870 106 - i x - CHAPTER III (continued) PAGE 3. Prospect Park, New York, 1887 107 4. Fairmont Park, Philadelphia, 1868 108 5. General Plan of Riverside, Chicago by Olmsted and Vaux, 1869 . . 109 6. Detail of Plan of Riverside by Olmsted and Vaux 110 7. Back Bay, Boston, 1893 ... . . . . . . . . . . . . . -.. . . . . ... . . I l l 8. Franklin Park, Boston, 1885 112 9. Boston Park System, 1887 113 10. Kansas City Park System, 1893 114 11. Contemporary Kansas City Park System . . 115 12. Minneapolis Park System . ;. ..... 116 13. San Francisco Park System . 117 14. Los Angeles Park System 118 15. Seattle Park System . . . . . . . . . . . . . ... .. . >. . ,. ,. . ... 119 CHAPTER IV 1. Burnham Plan, Chicago 1909 141 2. Abbey Park, Leicester, 1877 - 82 142 3. Stanley Park, Blackpool, 1922 143 4. Mawson's Plan for Pittencrieff Park, Dunfermline, 1903 144 5. Geddes' Plan for Pittencrieff Park, Dunfermline, 1903 . . . . . . 145 CHAPTER V 1. Periphery Seashell Road, 1889 186 2. Entrance to Stanley Park, 1898 187 3. Avison's Cottage, 1896 188 4. Prospect Point, 1890 189 5. Deadman's Island bef oire the tirees were fallen 190 -x- CHAPTER V (continued) PAGE 6. Mawson's Plans for Coal Harbour, 1912 191 7. Mawson's Plan for Museum and Stadium in Coal Harbour 192 8. Mawson's Plan for Oblisk at the Entrance to Stanley Park . . . . 193 9. Formal Gardens at Malkin Bowl, 1916 , 194 10. Stanley Park, 1911 195 11. Hastings Park Stock Sale, 1890's 196 12. Exhibition Building, Hastings Park, 1910 197 13. Vancouver Exhibition Grounds, 1915 198 14. Vancouver Park System, 1913 199' 15. Cambie Street Grounds: Vancouver Peninsula, 1890 200 - x i - ACKNOWLEDGEMENT I wish to s i n c e r e l y thank Dr. Henry Hightower, and p a r t i c u l a r l y my Supervisor, Mr. Brahm Wiesman f o r t h e i r t h o u g h t f u l d i r e c t i o n , cooperation, and encouragement during the past year. Also to T r i s h French, w i t h whom numerous t a l k s l e d to the s e l e c t i o n of t h i s t o p i c . Thanks a l s o to the Van- couver C i t y Archives f o r making the C i t y records to r e a d i l y a v a i l a b l e . There are many f r i e n d s who have c o n t r i b u t e d by "being t h e r e " f o r me during the p r e p a r a t i o n of t h i s t h e s i s , but I would s p e c i f i c a l l y l i k e to thank V l a d , Karen, Gaye, Cheryl and Gerry f o r t h e i r encouragement, as w e l l as for t h e i r help w i t h t y p i n g , proof-reading, photography and the i l l u s t r a - t i o n s . L a s t l y , to the members of my c l a s s , thank you f o r p r o v i d i n g such a p o s i t i v e and memorable atmosphere i n which to work. - x i i - To my Grandfather and my,Father, whose passion for gardening has undoubtably influenced my i n - terest in landscapes. CHAPTER I THOUGHTS, IDEAS, AND TRENDS THAT LED TO THE DEVELOPMENT OF PUBLIC PARKS This chapter traces the ideas behind garden and landscape design that l e d up to the p u b l i c park movement of the e a r l y 19th Century. Garden design was an a r t that had been e v o l v i n g f o r c e n t u r i e s through Roman times and the Middle Ages, to Louis XIV's V e r s a i l l e s and England's Kew Gardens. England and France developed very d i f f e r e n t schools of garden design, but one could always f i n d a few gardens i n both c o u n t r i e s that had obviously been i n f l u e n c e d by the t r a d i t i o n s on the other side of the Channel. The French tended to be more i n f l u e n c e d by the Renaissance s p i r i t of man's dominance over nature, which r e s u l t e d i n a more geometric and angular garden design. Englishmen on the other hand have h i s t o r i c a l l y expressed a longing f o r the r u r a l countryside and an attachment to more n a t u r a l shapes. Throughout 18th Century England the wealthy and the n o b i l i t y supported what came to be known as the " E n g l i s h Landscape Movement". In the 18th Century, the term "park" meant a p r i v a t e area of land adjacent to a gentleman's residence which was o f t e n designed and planted by one of the supporters of the E n g l i s h Landscape School. These men; Lancelot " C a p a b i l i t y " Brown, W i l l i a m Kent, and p a r t i c u l a r l y Humphrey Repton were to have an undeniable i n f l u e n c e on e a r l y p u b l i c park design, even though t h e i r c o n t r i b u t i o n s were made h a l f a century e a r l i e r . The c r e a t i o n of a p u b l i c park as a place w i t h i n a town to be used and enjoyed by a l l of i t s citizens,was e s s e n t i a l l y a V i c t o r i a n i d e a . E a r l y parks were touted as a r e l i e f from the unpleasant c o n d i t i o n s and phenominal p o p u l a t i o n growth brought about by the i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n i n B r i t a i n . I t was t h e V i c t o r i a n -2- z e a l f o r reform, together w i t h the e s t a b l i s h e d gardening and landscaping t r a d i t i o n s that shaped the c r e a t i o n of the f i r s t p u b l i c parks i n B r i t a i n . V i s u a l "Greenery" other than Royal parks was f i r s t introduced i n t o London by "The London Squares". The emergence of the green space came out of the idea that homes are f o r comfort and p r i v a c y and thus they should be merged i n t o greenery or a s o f t edge as much as p o s s i b l e . The increased s t r e s s i n the 18th Century upon the connection of the d w e l l i n g w i t h nature, was i n f l u e n c e d by the trend of the time toward Jean Jacques Rousseau's w r i t i n g and the c u l t of " n a t u r a l man".l In London, these squares which were n a t u r a l environments w i t h i n a geometric s e t t i n g , began to appear. Rousseau's view on n a t u r a l man advocated that the o r i g i n a l human nature i s , i t s e l f , good before i t has been corrupted by s o c i e t y . "The s p i r i t of s o c i e t y alone introduces and permits i n e q u a l i t y unknown i n the o r i g i n a l s t a t e of man".2 Rousseau's very p o s i t i v e view on man's charac- t e r i s t i c s i n h i s n a t u r a l s t a t e became a tremendous i n f l u e n c e on 18th Century s o c i e t y , r e s u l t i n g i n the widespread d e s i r e f o r a c l o s e r a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h nature. The f i r s t squares o r i g i n a t e d i n the 17th Century, but were only composed of grass and plane t r e e s because at that time, the squares r i s k e d the f a t e , as a l l open squares d i d , of becoming a dumping ground f o r f i l t h of a l l k i n d s . Gradually, as s a n i t a r y c o n d i t i o n s improved, gardens and flowers were planted i n the squares. The London Squares were not p u b l i c p l a c e s , but were used by the w e l l to do,who l i v e d i n the houses that surrounded the squares and who had - 3 - keys to l e t themselves i n s i d e . While key parks d i d l i t t l e to advance the democratic process or encourage p u b l i c exchange i n an open c i t y space, they d i d symbolize the f a c t that man f e e l s a need to have some form of nature close to h i s place of residence and a c t i v i t y . This idea was a l s o expressed i n other ways during the l a t e 1760's. The design and development of the Royal Crescent, the C i r c u s , and Lansdowne Crescent i n Bath o f f e r e d a new form of l i v i n g . The designers were able to blend the residences together w i t h the n a t u r a l surroundings i n the form of "parks". The s t r u c t u r e s are a l l curved i n some way w i t h s o f t edges that melt i n t o the n a t u r a l backdrop. Lansdowne Crescent i s p a r t i c u l a r l y winding,which, from the a i r , looks l i k e a snake between the t r e e s . Again t h i s d e s i r e f o r nature as a part of ones l i v i n g environment created new urban landscapes f o r p r i v a t e enjoyment. By the end of the 18th Century,the n o b i l i t y were i n t e r e s t e d i n the development of t h e i r estates or parts of t h e i r estates i n t o designed " n a t u r a l landscapes". These estates were l o c a t e d i n r u r a l areas outside the great c i t i e s . Their s i g n i f i c a n c e l i e s i n the f a c t that the great e s t a t e proved to be a design concept i n i t s e l f . The " E n g l i s h N a t u r a l Landscape Movement" arose out of the E n g l i s h t r a d i t i o n a l love of the n a t u r a l l a n d - scape, and i t was from t h i s premise that the group of new garden designers worked. The p r i v a t e estates were a l s o s i g n i f i c a n t because i n many cases, i t was these wealthy people's hunting parks and wooded r e t r e a t s that even- t u a l l y became the great p u b l i c parks of the 19th century. The Royal Parks of London are an example, and give the West End of London i t s unique character. There are many E n g l i s h towns that would have an inadequate park system i f i t were not f o r those parks which were o r i g i n a l l y e s t a t e s belonging to the -4- l o c a l n o b i l i t y . The new s t y l e of E n g l i s h landscape as a garden a r t form was d i r e c t l y i n f l u e n c e d by the l i t e r a r y r e d i s c o v e r y of nature,which immediately became an i n s p i r a t i o n to poets and a r t i s t s . The a r t of landscape p a i n t i n g became widely recognized when p a i n t e r s l i k e Claude L o r r a i n e and Nicholas Poussin produced romantic landscapes of the E n g l i s h c o u n t r y s i d e , and t h i s i n t u r n , i n f l u e n c e d garden a r t . Michael L a u r i e argues that n a t u r a l l a n d - scape gardening was the product of the Romantic Movement. " I t s form was based on d i r e c t observation of nature and the p r i n c i p l e s of p a i n t i n g . " 3 Unfortunately, a comprehensive understanding of the Romantic Movement d e f i e s d e f i n i t i o n w i t h a few pages. The Romantics from 1770 to 1845, were perhaps the f i r s t group i n recent h i s t o r y to regard a r t as an important p r o f e s s i o n , both s o c i a l l y and p h i l o s o p h i c a l l y . Other im- portant q u a l i t i e s of Romantic l i f e were energy and robustness. The concern f o r a r t t h e r e f o r e , together w i t h channelled energy and s o c i e t y ' s current i n t e r e s t i n nature, r e s u l t e d i n a tremendous d e s i r e and development of n a t u r a l landscape gardening. In the l a t e 19th Century the wealthy began to h i r e landscape gardeners to design the grounds of t h e i r great e s t a t e s . Lancelot ( C a p a b i l i t y ) Brown was one of the o r i g i n a l landscape designers to work i n the n a t u r a l s t y l e . ^ He was l a r g e l y r e s p o n s i b l e f o r changing the c l a s s i c a l garden forms i n England to the n a t u r a l landscape s t y l e . He began h i s career as an a s s i s t a n t to S i r W i l l i a m Kent, the head gardener at Stowe, a famous garden e s t a t e i n Buckinghamshire. Brown worked on many gentleman's p r i v a t e e s t a t e s throughout England before he came back to completely r e v i s e Stowe i n 1780. -5- Brown's landscapes produced the e f f e c t s of smoothness, roundness, and gradual v a r i a t i o n r a t h e r than the c l a s s i c a l tendencies towards c o n t r a s t s i n t e x t u r e , colour and form. At the end of h i s career, colour played no part i n h i s designs; he r e l i e d on the softened land formations. The Brownian landscape park which was c a l l e d the "Picturesque" s t y l e of l a n d - scape gardening, became an accepted formula i n England. I t always i n c l u d e d : e n c i r c l i n g b e l t s of t r e e s to contain the view from w i t h i n ; clumps of beech trees w i t h i n the e s t a t e which v i t a l i z e d the middle d i s t a n c e ; wide r o l l i n g f i e l d s of t u r f ; and a serpentine lake of s t i l l water whose ends were con- cealed and whose banks were naked. The transformations of the gardens at Stowe are probably a good r e p r e s e n t a t i o n of the e v o l u t i o n of landscape gardening during the 18th century. The Stowe e s t a t e was owned by General S i r Richard Temple who, by 1715 obtained the t i t l e , of Baron•Cobham. The Baron wanted to develop the extensive grounds i n a grand manner as v i s u a l evidence of h i s p o s i t i o n i n the world. He h i r e d the a r c h i t e c t Vahbrugh to remodel the house and a man named Bridgeman, a London nurseryman, to organize the grounds. I l l u s t r a t i o n 1 was the Bridgeman plan of Stowe, which c l o s e l y resembled V e r s a i l l e s . The major a x i s , a French c h a r a c t e r i s t i c , c l e a r l y defined the garden. I t a l s o contained f o u n t a i n s , p o o l s , s t a t u e s , parterres-* and c a n a l s , a l l of which are found at V e r s a i l l e s . In 1769, Stowe was modified by S i r W i l l i a m Kent, a former p a i n t e r and s c u l p t o r . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 2). He softened the geometric r i g i d i t y of the garden and created I t a l i a n a t e gardens and c l a s s i c a l s t r u c t u r e s . The I t a l i a n s t y l e was to have untrimmed and unkempt trees to create a s e r i e s of p i c t u r e s , and to o b l i t e r a t e the r e l a t i o n s h i p of the parts of the garden -6- to the whole. Kent e s s e n t i a l l y softened Bridgeman's E n g l i s h v e r s i o n of V e r s a i l l e s . Stowe was a l t e r e d f o r the t h i r d time when the E n g l i s h landscape school was f i r m l y e s t a b l i s h e d by C a p a b i l i t y Brown and others. In 1780, Brown returned to Stowe and set about redesigning the gardens ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 3) A l l traces of geometry were removed as w e l l as the c l a s s i c a l s c u l p t u r e , tem- p l e s , and grottoes. What Brown wanted to achieve was a view from the mansion of a "pure" n a t u r a l E n g l i s h countryside; a picturesque view that L o r r a i n e or Poussin would l i k e to p a i n t . G.B. Tobey describes the t r a n s f o r m a t i o n ; "Gone was the f e e l i n g that the e s t a t e ' s c h a t e l a i n was master of a l l he s u r - veyed as at V e r s a i l l e s , but was, i n e f f e c t , the custodian of a p o r t i o n of an e a r t h l y p a r a d i s e , h i s own Garden of Eden before the f a l l . " 6 C a p a b i l i t y Brown i n h i s work at Stowe and other E n g l i s h gardens, e s t a b l i s h e d a strong i n f l u e n c e i n Europe. Marie A n t o i n e t t e i n s i s t e d on a " n a t u r a l w i l d e r n e s s " garden at her chateau,modelled on what the French thought was an E n g l i s h landscape garden. In t h i s park was a l a k e , where, on the banks, there was a l i t t l e farm v i l l a g e i n c l u d i n g a " m i l l , d a i r y barns, and a l l the trappings of a stage set f o r Marie A n t o i n e t t e and her maids to play at being farmerettes."7 In 1789, a p o r t i o n of the V i l l a Borghese j u s t outside the P o r t a d e l Populo i n Rome, was remodelled i n the l a t e s t landscape s t y l e . What r e s u l t e d was the o r i g i n a l Borghese Gardens w i t h a l i t t l e v i s i o n of England. Although C a p a b i l i t y Brown devoted h i s career to "improving" the E n g l i s h landscape, other landscape gardeners, some through a p p r e n t i c e s h i p , soon began to "do" E n g l i s h gardens throughout Europe. - 7 - C a p a b i l i t y Brown was a l s o a tremendous i n f l u e n c e on European and North American c i t y parks. This was p r i m a r i l y because of the P i c t u r e s - que s t y l e s ' a d a p t a b i l i t y to l a r g e areas, and to i t s l i n g e r i n g i n f l u e n c e on e s t a t e design at the time of the I n d u s t r i a l R e v o l u t i o n , as w i l l be seen l a t e r . The s t y l e of E n g l i s h gardens went through f u r t h e r development w i t h the career of Humphrey Repton. Repton was always i n t e r e s t e d i n gardens, but h i s ideas f o r gardens were l a t e r a p p l i e d to parks. He would have undoubtedly been very i n v o l v e d i n the c r e a t i o n of the f i r s t parks i n England had he not died i n a boating accident at an e a r l y age. Repton's design s t y l e was an extension of Brown's n a t u r a l l a n d - scape s t y l e , b u t the s i g n i f i c a n t d i f f e r e n c e was the s c a l e of spaces i n the gardens. Repton f e l t that there needed to be p r i v a c y i n a garden, so created many segregated spaces and d i d away w i t h the expansive view of the grounds from the mansion or house. Whereas Brown i n s i s t e d that grass con- t i n u e up to the foundations of the house, Repton, on the other hand, modi- f i e d Brown's s t y l e to r e s t o r e the t e r r a c e to connect the house to the garden. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 4). Gardens were no longer a planned u n i t y a f t e r Repton, w i t h n e i t h e r an a x i a l development or the c o n t r o l l i n g sweep of a b e l t walk to give p h y s i c a l coherance to the design. P r i v a t e areas i n the gardens began to be developed to the shape of the l a n d . What e s s e n t i a l l y happened,was that the garden and landscape design went from the "landscape park" at i t s b e s t , to the advocacy of a new system of gardening based upon a smaller s c a l e . This s c a l e was to become i n c r e a s i n g l y f a m i l i a r to the V i c t o r i a n s . Repton's personal theory went from the v i s u a l "picturesque" to the i d e a that the q u a l i t i e s of u t i l i t y (which Repton -8- d e f i e d as "convenience, comfort, neatness and everything that conduces to the purposes of h a b i t a t i o n w i t h elegance^") were most important i n landscape gardening.8 The idea of u t i l i t y i n a garden l e d to the p r a c t i c e of p l a n t i n g p l a n t s , not n e c e s s a r i l y where they had the best e f f e e t , but where they grew best. Poets and a r c h i t e c t s d i d not have t h i s t e c h n i c a l knowledge, whereas gardeners d i d . John Claudius Loudon, who l a t e r developed Repton's ideas one step f u r t h e r , i n h i s work and i n h i s w r i t i n g s , put h i s f i n g e r on the change from the 18th to 19th century. He noted that p r e v i o u s l y there had been many books a v a i l a b l e on the a e s t h e t i c s of gardening, but that these were a l l being replaced by b o t a n i c a l gardening l i t e r a t u r e . The career of Humphrey Repton t h e r e f o r e , was a tremendous i n f l u e n c e on the f i e l d of landscape design at the turn of the century. Although he died before becoming i n v o l v e d i n the design of parks f o r the p u b l i c , h i s ideas and designs can be recognized i n many parks today.. Regent's Park f o r example was designed by John Nash, an a r c h i t e c t who was once i n p a r t n e r - ship w i t h Repton. Although t h e i r a s s o c i a t i o n was broken o f f l a t e i n Repton's l i f e , the designs of Regent's. Park are c l e a r l y c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of Repton's work. As the V i c t o r i a n age emerged, landscape gardening was at the stage where, i t , together w i t h f a c t o r s such as the new I n d u s t r i a l Revolution and extensive t r a v e l abroad, produced yet another landscape school c a l l e d the "Gardenesque". The Gardenesque school of design had e s s e n t i a l l y been i n - s p i r e d by Repton's work, but i t was f i n a l l y brought to the f o r e f r o n t of the p r o f e s s i o n i n the w r i t i n g s and the work of John Claudius Loudon. Loudon as -9- a f o l l o w e r of Repton, was a l s o concerned w i t h smaller s c a l e landscape. His Gardener's Magazine was the f i r s t published on gardening., and i n a d d i t i o n , he ran s e v e r a l other j o u r n a l s which ran a r t i c l e s on the s t a t e of the gardening a r t . The Gardenesque s t y l e of landscape design i n v o l v e d arranging t r e e s , p l a n t s and shrubs according to t h e i r kinds .and t h e i r dimensions. I t brought, once again, an order to gardening although not i n the geometric sense of the former c l a s s i c a l gardens. Loudon i n h i s Gardener's Magazine explained what he saw as the d i f f e r e n c e and the e v o l u t i o n of landscaping from the N a t u r a l Landscape or Picturesque School of C a p a b i l i t y Brown.to the Garden- esque School of the e a r l y V i c t o r i a n era. He saw the former N a t u r a l Land- scape School as being concerned w i t h t r e e s , shrubs, and flowers that were i n d i s c r i m i n a t e l y mixed and crowded together i n shrubberies, and g e n e r a l l y l e f t to grow up and destroy one another as they would have done i n a n a t u r a l f o r e s t . This trend was a l s o a c c e l e r a t e d by the t a s t e f o r landscape p a i n t i n g and poetry which p r e v a i l e d at the end of the century among the higher c l a s s e s of B r i t i s h s o c i e t y . Loudon pointed out that the e a r l y 1800's showed a s h i f t i n emphasis i n gardening from the Picturesque to that of botany and a g r i c u l t u r e and the i n t r o d u c t i o n of new p l a n t s from other c o u n t r i e s . In order f o r some of these p l a n t s to s u r v i v e i n the open B r i t i s h c l i m a t e , new systems of l a y i n g out and p l a n t i n g grounds to d i s p l a y these new p l a n t s were introduced.. The i n f l u e n c e s f o r t h i s new gardening were coming from England's access to many parts of the world. G.A. J e l l i c o e pointed out t h a t , " i t was the double v i c t o r i e s of T r a f a l g a r and Waterloo i n 1805 and 1815 which gained England access to a l l parts of the world and made i t p o s s i b l e f o r a l l kinds of p l a n t s to be -10- introduced to t h i s country."9 There arose an i n t e r e s t f o r the " e x o t i c specimen" that was consequently r e f l e c t e d on the landscape and became the strongest c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the Gardenesque. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 5) The o r i g i n a l method of "bedding" began to be widely used because these p l o t s could d i s p l a y s i m i l a r specimens i n a neat and t i d y manner. This garden s t r u c t u r e was very d i f f e r e n t from the N a t u r a l Landscape s t y l e and was a l s o r e f l e c t e d i n p a i n t i n g . Whereas a landscape p a i n t e r would d e a l w i t h d i s t i n c t foregrounds, middlegrounds, and d i s t a n c e , a p a i n t e r of a Gardenesque landscape would be concerned w i t h the grouped i n d i v i d u a l species that would almost serve as a r c h i t e c t u r a l embellishments i n the garden. J e l l i c o e was aware of the i n f l u e n c e of the Gardenesque on l a t e r park layouts and saw t h i s as a negative i n f l u e n c e . He noted that "the meaningless s c a t t e r i n g of 'specimen t r e e s ' or shrubs over the lawn between the foreground flower garden and background e n c i r c l i n g trees was a problem of V i c t o r i a n parks as w e l l as of present day parks."10. Whether one agrees w i t h t h i s viewpoint or not, i t i s obvious that t h i s "specimen" s t y l e of E n g l i s h gardening and landscaping has been c a r r i e d over to park and garden design i n North America as w e l l as England today. The idea of the b o t a n i c a l garden, although o r i g i n a t i n g long before the V i c t o r i a n e r a , i s a strong example of t h i s manner of d i s p l a y i n g p a r t i c u l a r species. Most l a r g e c i t y parks have some s e c t i o n that i s devoted to t h i s method of gardening. The e a r l y 1830's were the formative years i n the cry f o r p u b l i c open space.- 1833-saw the appointment of a Select Committee on P u b l i c Walks which was appointed to consider the best means of securing "open spaces i n the v i c i n i t y of populous towns, as p u b l i c walks and places of e x e r c i s e -11- c a l c u l a t e d to promote the h e a l t h and comfort of the i n h a b i t a n t s . " The committee, understandably, favoured the p r o v i s i o n of P u b l i c open spaces and suggested l e g i s l a t i o n to f a c i l i t a t e the d e d i c a t i o n of land f o r that purpose. The l e g i s l a t o r s were not convinced however, so the p u b l i c r e - mained dependent upon the generosity of some i n d i v i d u a l s to open t h e i r gardens or to donate t h e i r land. Loudon wrote i n h i s Gardener's Magazine i n 1835, " P u b l i c gardens are j u s t beginning to be thought of i n England and l i k e most other great domestic improvements i n our country, they have o r i g i n a t e d i n the s p i r i t of the people r a t h e r than the government. " H SUMMARY In the eve of the p u b l i c park movement i n England, the w e l l known landscape designers were s t i l l p r o v i d i n g t h e i r t a l e n t to r o y a l t y , the n o b i l i t y , and the wealthy. Although these p r i v a t e estates and parks were f o r the p r i v i l e g e d few, they, together w i t h the London Squares, p u b l i c walks, and Medieval remnants of the p a s t , were forerunners of the urban p u b l i c park. They were the expression of the " s t a t e of the a r t " i n l a n d - scape and garden design, and provided a design b a s i s upon which the new p u b l i c park designer would b u i l d , i n the e a r l y stages of the movement. In some cases, such as the Royal parks i n West London, these p r i v a t e l a n d - scapes were e v e n t u a l l y turned over f o r p u b l i c enjoyment. In B r i t a i n at t h i s time, the acceptance and vogue of Rousseau's w r i t i n g s about man and nature, the r e j e c t i o n of the formal design trends i n France, and the B r i t o n ' s recent r e a l i z a t i o n of t h i s t r a d i t i o n a l love of the B r i t i s h countryside were a l l forces that l e d to the p a r t i c u l a r design b a s i s f o r the development and transformation of the B r i t i s h landscape. -12- The B r i t i s h landscape went through a transformation from the t r a d i t i o n a l formal type of landscape to the more n a t u r a l "Picturesque" and "Gardenesque" s t y l e s . The formal B r i t i s h landscapes, l i k e V e r s a i l l e s , i n c l u d e d a major a x i s i n the garden as w e l l as f o u n t a i n s , canals, s t a t u e s , and r e f l e c t i n g pools. While E n g l i s h e s t a t e s never d i s p l a y e d the extreme geometry and f o r m a l i t y of the French e s t a t e s , they were nevertheless i n - fluenced by the French Renaissance s t y l e of landscape gardening. The Picturesque s t y l e of landscape design, which o r i g i n a t e d w i t h C a p a b i l i t y Brown, was a s t y l e that was d i r e c t l y i n f l u e n c e d by the current l i t e r a r y and a r t i s t i c s t y l e s of England. These s t y l e s emphasized man's p o s i t i v e r e l a t i o n s h i p to nature as r e f l e c t e d i n p a i n t i n g s of p a s t o r a l E n g l i s h landscapes. Picturesque landscapes were c h a r a c t e r i z e d by huge expanses of lawn, w i t h s c a t t e r e d groups of trees surrounding the f i e l d s of t u r f . Brown u s u a l l y created an u n i n t e r r u p t e d view of the grounds from the mansion. These landscapes showed a smoothness of n a t u r a l shapes and a gradual v a r i a t i o n between lawn, shrubs, and t r e e s . Colour was not important i n the Picturesque landscape, and Brown's l a t e s t works were completely devoid of c o l o u r . The Gardenesque s t y l e of landscape gardening evolved out of the Picturesque s t y l e when Humphrey Repton and l a t e r , John Claudius Loudon developed the concern f o r more p r i v a c y and thus a smaller s c a l e garden. The Gardenesque.landscape designers d i s p l a y e d the i n d i v i d u a l beauty of trees and p l a n t s by specimen groups, o f t e n enhancing the " e x o t i c specimen from abroad." This s t y l e incorporated- the o r i e n t a l bedding method, which provided a more s o p h i s t i c a t e d method of d i s p l a y i n g p l a n t s , w h i l e c r e a t i n g smaller contained spaces w i t h i n a garden. Colour appeared i n the landscape once again and a -13- concern f o r botany and a g r i c u l t u r e i n gardening began to replace the e a r l i e r emphasis on a r t and philosophy. F i n a l l y , the Gardenesque s t y l e of landscape gardening was to become the primary design s t y l e f o r the V i c t o r i a n parks, both i n B r i t a i n , and i n North America. -14- FOOTNOTES 1 S i g f r i e d Giedion, Space, Time and A r c h i t e c t u r e ; the growth of a new t r a d i t i o n (Cambridge, Mass: 1967), p. 711. ^ Stephen E l l e n b u r g , Rousseau's P o l i t i c a l Philosophy ( I t h a c a : C o r n e l l Press, 1976), p. 61. 3 Michael L a u r i e , An I n t r o d u c t i o n to Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e (New York: American E l s e v i e r Pub. Co. Inc., 1975), p. 32. While the diagonal was s t i l l a p r i n c i p l e element of romantic p a i n t i n g , i t i s "nature".as the subject of p a i n t i n g to which L a u r i e i s r e f e r r i n g . ^ • To the wealthy people Brown worked f o r , he very soon acquired the nickname " C a p a b i l i t y " because when he f i r s t viewed a gentleman's e s t a t e , he would say that the place had c a p a b i l i t i e s of improvement." - A p a r t e r r e i s a l e v e l space i n a garden which i s subdivided by beds of p l o t s i n which flowers are grown. The garden i s on the e a r t h and i s to be looked down upon r a t h e r than to be looked out a t . ^ G.B. Tobey, A H i s t o r y of Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e ; the R e l a t i o n s h i p to Environment, (New York: American E l s e v i e r Pub. Co. Inc., 1973), p. 135. 7 I b i d . , p. 137. Q George Chadwick, The Park and The Town; P u b l i c Landscape i n the 19th and 20th Centuries (New York: F r e d r i c k A. Praeger, Pub., 1966), p. 22. 9 I b i d . , p. 56. 1 0 I b i d . , p. 57. 1 1 I b i d . , p. 52 I L U A S T R A X I O M \ STowe: E S T A T E I A S D E S I G N E D B y B R I D G E M A M 1 7 5 ^ . T o B . & y p. 1 3 2 . ILUASTRATION! 2. STOVMS ESTATE AS HoDlRet> -17- (after En-own) <*• 2-1 - i i FIGURE 93 ILLUSTRATION 3 STOVM^ ESTATE AS MODIFIED ^ BfcOVMtsl | - 7 8 C T O B E ^ P 13^ -20- CHAPTER II THE DEVELOPMENT.OF PUBLIC PARKS IN BRITAIN, FRANCE AND THE CONTINENT The Legacy of I n d u s t r i a l B r i t a i n The great i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s came into existence during the early 1800's on the new economic foundations l a i d i n the eighteenth century. These foundations were based on the growth i n population and expansion of industry i n B r i t a i n at that time. The pressure of r a p i d l y increasing numbers of people and the s o c i a l consequences of the new i n d u s t r i a l tech- niques and new ways of organizing work involved a sharp break with the past. The population gradually had to deal with these new i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s and t h e i r eventual reorganization as a r e s u l t of s o c i a l concerns. The recog- n i t i o n and encouragement of public parks was, i n part, a reaction to the conditions i n these c i t i e s , and during the mid-1800's the B r i t i s h govern- ment began to acknowledge the i n t e g r a l part that parks could play i n the a l l e v i a t i o n of unfavourable conditions. This chapter w i l l discuss the various steps that were a part of the development of public parks; both i n terms of the change i n a t t i t u d e towards parks designed for the public and i n terms of the actual l e g i s l a t i o n and government support. The d i s - cussion w i l l focus f i r s t on B r i t a i n , and then on France and Europe. John Ruskin was one of the f i r s t writers to enunciate the unpleasant l i v i n g conditions of the c i t i e s . He was an extremely i n f l u e n t i a l writer i n B r i t a i n during the early 1800's, and often wrote i n "near h y s t e r i a " about the f i l t h and unpleasantness of the new i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s . He i d e n t i f i e d the negative aspects of i n d u s t r i a l development, and he c a r e f u l l y watched newspapers and advertisements i n the c i t y for i n d i c a t i o n s of the d i r e c t i o n of society. Ruskin a r t i c u l a t e l y expressed a f e e l i n g that many -21- other w r i t e r s and c i t i z e n s f e l t at that time: "And beneath i t l i e s a more serious s o c i a l p r o t e s t : one that was shared by many other commentators at that time. I t included such f a c t o r s as a hatred of the mammoth i n d u s t r i a l c i t y and i t s d e b r i s : a f e a r of the techniques of manufacturing i n d u s t r y and what damage they would do to the d i g n i t y of man: a prophecy of the d e p e r s o n a l i z a t i o n of the worker because of mass production techniques. The i m p l i c a t i o n i s that a e s t h e t i c , moral and s o c i a l judgements are a l l r e l a t e d to one another: and the environment i s an expression of them - an expression of l i f e and culture."1 There were many people i n B r i t a i n at the time who had the f o r e - s i g h t to r e a l i z e that the environment as an expression of the s t a t e of " a e s t h e t i c s " , would undoubtably s u f f e r w i t h the e f f e c t s of i n d u s t r i a l i s m . Unfortunately the government d i d not i n i t i a l l y concern i t s e l f w i t h the i s s u e of the environment because i n the V i c t o r i a n economy, i n d u s t r y had p r i o r i t y , over environmental and housing concerns. The urban problems created by i n d u s t r i a l expansion caused some e n t h u s i a s t i c and educated V i c t o r i a n s to make b o l d attempts at reform. Parliament was o b l i g e d to l i s t e n to concerned i n d i v i d u a l s and i n t e r e s t groups, but a c t i o n was u s u a l l y not taken u n t i l many years a f t e r the problems were enunciated. Bad h e a l t h and s a n i t a t i o n standards q u i c k l y became the focus f o r p r o t e s t . By the 1830's there were v a r i o u s o r g a n i z a t i o n s created to combat the s a n i t a r y c o n d i t i o n s . One of these, the Health of Towns A s s o c i a t i o n had a check l i s t to present to l o c a l a u t h o r i t i e s to ensure minimum h e a l t h standards. The e a r l y supporters of p u b l i c parks used the argument ;that p u b l i c parks and walks would improve the general h e a l t h of the c i t y ' s i n h a b i t a n t s . - 2 2 - Asa Briggs p o i n t s out that V i c t o r i a n s began to take an i n t e r e s t i n t h e i r c i t i e s i n the l a t e 1830's when i t became impossible to avoid urgent urban problems.2 P r e v i o u s l y people had looked at the i n d u s t r i a l c i t y w i t h horror or f a s c i n a t i o n . I n d u s t r i a l i s m ceased to be thought of as f a s c i n a t i n g however, when i t became common place and complaints about i t s s o c i a l consequences were ignored by government. I t was at t h i s time that the V i c t o r i a n z e a l f o r reform began to surface and the movement f o r p u b l i c parks found a p l a t f o r m f o r a c t i o n . The E a r l y Support of P u b l i c Parks I t i s obvious that the government d i d not i n i t i a t e the park movement that swept through B r i t a i n during the 19th Century. I t s f i r s t involvement w i t h the movement was i n 1833, when Parliament appointed a s e l e c t Committee to make a record of the c o n d i t i o n and a v a i l a b i l i t y of p u b l i c open space i n England. The appointment of the Committee was very s i g n i f i c a n t . I t recognized the r a p i d increase i n p o p u l a t i o n i n the l a r g e towns engaged i n manufacturing and saw,the need f o r p u b l i c walks and open spaces f o r the e x e r c i s e and pleasure of the middle and lower c l a s s e s . The Committee pointed out that r e c r e a t i o n f a c i l i t i e s would undoubtedly improve the h e a l t h of the workers, and r e s u l t i n greater p r o d u c t i v i t y . The Com- mittee's recommendations to Parliament i n c l u d e d : 1. grants from the government should be made to towns to help finance the c r e a t i o n of p u b l i c walks. 2. some of t h i s money should be r a i s e d by l o c a l s u b s c r i p t i o n . 3. that a s m a l l r a t e should be assessed on property owners. 4. p r o p r i e t o r s of land developments should dedicate a c e r t a i n amount of land f o r p u b l i c walks. 5. r e c r e a t i o n grounds should be operated by p u b l i c a u t h o r i t i e s . 3 -23- B i l l s f o r open space were heatedly debated, but were defeated i n the e a r l y 1830's because most parliamentarians s t i l l saw the c r e a t i o n of p u b l i c parks as a p h i l a n t h r o p i c r e s p o n s i b i l i t y . England had to wait another ten years before the government i n i t i a t e d a p o l i c y to f i n a n c i a l l y support the development of p u b l i c parks. One r e s u l t of t h i s p e r i o d of awareness of p u b l i c open space was i t s i n f l u e n c e on the C o l o n i a l O f f i c e and i t s d i r e c t i o n s to b u i l d e r s of towns i n the c o l o n i e s . The C o l o n i z a t i o n Commissioners f o r South A u s t r a l i a f o r example sent a l e t t e r of i n s t r u c t i o n to Colonel W i l l i a n L i g h t who l a i d out Adelaide i n 1836. "When you have determined the s i t e of the f i r s t town, you w i l l proceed to l a y i t out i n accordance w i t h the r e g u l a t i o n s f o r the p r e l i m i n a r y sales of C o l o n i a l lands i n t h i s country (acre town l o t s ) . You w i l l make the s t r e e t s of ample width and arrange them w i t h reference to the convenience of i t s i n h a b i t a n t s and the beauty and s a l u b r i t y of the town; and you w i l l make the necessary reserves f o r squares, p u b l i c walks and quays. L i g h t went f a r beyond t h i s requirement and created the Adelaide c i r c u l a r b e l t plan i n which parkland completely surrounded the o r i g i n a l town ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 1). I t has not been c l e a r l y traced where L i g h t derived the i d e a , and i t was never mentioned i n h i s d i a r i e s . I t was p o s s i b l e that the idea was s t r i c t l y h i s own a f t e r v i s i t i n g European towns. In h i s book S i c i l i a n Scenery published i n 1823, L i g h t i n c l u d e d sketches and a des- c r i p t i o n of the town of Catania, which had a c i r c u l a r open space.5 Another theory i s that the idea f o r a park system came from Edward Gibson Wakefield, a " C o l o n i z e r " whose i d e a i t was to found Adelaide and who was i n constant communication w i t h L i g h t when he was l a y i n g out the town. Wakefield was a l s o - 2 4 - responsible for the colonization of towns in New Zealand, which also have variations on the park belt, and i f this is the case, i t would seem that Adelaide's park belt was a part of Wakefield's colonization theory. (He wrote a book entitled, "The Art of Colonization"). Wakefield could have been influenced by the very early ideas for public parks in Britain and the work of Robert Owen. Owen was the f i r s t person to suggest that industrialism did not necessarily have to be tied to bigger c i t i e s , but could be introduced into smaller towns; "ideal Villages" incorporating open space.6 The f i n a l theory as to the origins of Adelaide's extraordinary public parkland, is the possiblity that Light got the idea from a book published in 1830 (and later in 1836) called the "Friend of Australia". The book is aimed at a specific audience, the colonizers of Australia, and i t contains a plan of a town provided with squares and parks. As the book was published in England, i t may have originated as an academic exercise as a result of the early stirrings in Britain for public open space, and Light used i t as an opportunity to implement this idea. It was certainly one of the f i r s t plans in the Commonwealth to specify the inclusion of public parks. It is interesting that Ebenezer Howard made a journey to Adelaide early in his l i f e and was greatly inspired by the parklands sur- rounding the city. He acknowledges that i t is this principle that he followed and built.upon--for the agricultural/parkland belt in his "Garden City". 7 The Contribution of Joseph Paxton One of the f i r s t persons to become involved in the design of public parks, and who received some of the earliest commissions, was -25- Joseph Paxtcm. He worked i n the north and midlands of England before Loudon died and launched the H o r t i c u l t u r e R e g i s t e r i n competition w i t h Loudon's Gardener's Magazine. In the e a r l y stages of Paxton's career, Loudon and Paxton were at odds on some approaches, but l a t e r Loudon r e c - ognized Paxton's competence i n h i s own f i e l d and i n v i t e d him to c o n t r i b u t e to the Gardener's Magazine. Paxton was not only a designer of parks and gardens but became i n v o l v e d i n the movement to provide gardens f o r the general p u b l i c . He wrote two a r t i c l e s i n h i s H o r t i c u l t u r a l R e g i s t e r i n 1831 i n support of p u b l i c parks.8 The f i r s t park that Paxton designed was P r i n c e ' s Park i n L i v e r - p o o l . I t was i n i t i a t e d and financed by Richard Vaughan Yates i n 1842, who was i n t e r e s t e d i n the betterment of the town. I t passed i n t o p u b l i c ownership i n 1905. P r i n c e ' s Park was a 900 acre landscape of which 50 acres were i n the form of a c e n t r a l park, and the remaining area a s e r i e s of v i l l a s . The v i l l a s were l a r g e detached homes, each w i t h t h e i r own treed groves and p l a n t s , commanding a c e r t a i n area of the park l a n d - scape, and adding to the o v e r a l l landscape e f f e c t . This type of development was becoming popular i n B r i t a i n both f o r , p u b l i c and p r i v a t e parks because the e x t r a cost of l a y i n g out a park was thus covered by the value of the improved housing s i t e s on the periphery. This method of development had been used i n Regent's Park i n London on a l a r g e r s c a l e , and echoed the design of Lansdowne Crescent i n Bath from the 18th Century. John Nash, when l a y i n g out Regent's Park was upset when the Commissioners reduced the number of v i l l a s to be b u i l t be- cause he f e l t that the absence of the v i l l a s would r e s u l t i n a more open -26- " d u l l e r landscape" w i t h a simple s c a t t e r i n g of t r e e s . He d i d not want u n i n t e r r u p t e d views from w i t h i n the park and considered the foreground of tremendous importance. Thus the v i l l a s themselves were an important part of the design scheme f o r Regent's Park. The design of the P r i n c e ' s Park i t s e l f tended to be i n the Gardenesque s t y l e w i t h a small l a k e , Swiss boat house, and r u s t i c f o o t b r i d g e . The c h a r a c t e r i s t i c b e l t s or groups of trees and s p e c i a l specimen s e c t i o n s r e f l e c t the i n f l u e n c e that Loudon had on young Paxton. In 1845 Paxton l a i d out the Coventry Cemetery , h i s f i r s t con- n e c t i o n w i t h the town which he was l a t e r to represent i n Parliament. Although a cemetery i s not a park i n the conventional sense, i t was, at that time, a p u b l i c open space which was very f r e q u e n t l y used. Cemeteries were places of peace and s o l i t u d e , and as the c i t i e s became more unin- h a b i t a b l e , cemeteries were i n c r e a s i n g l y used as places of escape and en- joyment. The designs f o r cemeteries were followed very c l o s e l y and development i n cemetery design was c e r t a i n l y recorded and discussed. Paxton began work on Birkenhead Park i n 1844, regarded by many as the f i r s t p u b l i c park e x c l u s i v e l y designed f o r p u b l i c enjoyment. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 2). Birkenhead was a completely new settlement being d e v e l - oped by Government Improvement Commissioners "as a r i v a l to L i v e r p o o l across the r i v e r , which was expanding at an extremely r a p i d r a t e . " ^ . The a c q u i s i - t i o n f o r the park was p o s s i b l e because of a major breakthrough i n p a r l i a - ment the year before. In A p r i l 1843, the T h i r d Improvement Act was given r o y a l ascent and enabled the a c q u i s i t i o n of land f o r the purposes of p u b l i c parks, f o r the f i r s t time by an Act of Parliament. -27- At t h i s time town houses were s t i l l being b u i l t w i t h i n park grounds as i n P r i n c e ' s Park and Regent's Park. At Birkenhead, however, of the 226 acres developed, 125 acres were to be used f o r p u b l i c use i n p e r p e t u i t y and the remainder f o r housing. Birkenhead was a f i n a n c i a l success w i t h a cost of excavating and p l a n t i n g at around£lQ,000. A thousand men were s a i d to have been employed f o r more than two years.10 The r e t u r n on the land around the park upon which handsome v i l l a s were b u i l t was very high. Birkenhead Park c l o s e l y resembled P r i n c e ' s Park i n f u n c t i o n , but w h i l e the development of P r i n c e ' s Park was a p h i l a n t h r o p i c gesture, the development of Birkenhead was due to the intended purpose of c r e a t i n g a p u b l i c park. The c e n t r a l government was a l s o i n v o l v e d w i t h the c r e a t i o n of Birkenhead park. Birkenhead Park was opened on A p r i l 5, 1847. From the beginning i t was designed to accommodate games,and f o r t h i s reason, was an immediate s o c i a l success. The idea of games i n a park was r e v o l u t i o n a r y , even more so than the idea of the p u b l i c park i t s e l f . This was the f i r s t B r i t i s h park i n h i s t o r y to be designed f o r a c t i v e p u r s u i t s . The p u b l i c walk was the f i r s t amenity developed i n Europe and p a r t i c u l a r l y i n B r i t a i n i n response to a need f o r p u b l i c " r e c r e a t i o n " . These walks are a prominent feature on the B r i t i s h landscape today a l - though they were o f t e n on the urban edge i n the e a r l y 1800's. The "promenade" i n one of Loudon's p u b l i c gardens served a d i f f e r e n t purpose because w h i l e the promenade was a form of e x e r c i s e i t was p r i m a r i l y a s o c i a l outing. Birkenhead Park was opened w h i l e "promenading" was s t i l l a general form of r e c r e a t i o n . -28- Th e idea of r e c r e a t i o n as a use of open space was acknowledged by the government i n 1838, when Joseph Hume introduced a r e s o l u t i o n i n the B r i t i s h House of Commons t h a t , " i n f u t u r e , i n a l l enclosure b i l l s , a pro- v i s i o n should be made f o r l e a v i n g an open space s u f f i c i e n t f o r purposes of e x e r c i s e , and r e c r e a t i o n f o r the neighbouring p o p u l a t i o n . " H One reason f o r the i n t e r e s t i n games and r e c r e a t i o n and the government's acknowledgement and support might have been the growing phenomenon of the middle c l a s s i n V i c t o r i a n S o c i e t y . I t was widely accepted that "The V i c t o r i a n Age was the era of the middle class."12 i t was the f a s t e s t growing part of s o c i e t y and advanced i t s p o s i t i o n , and more i m p o r t a n t l y , e f f e c t i v e l y asserted i t s values during that time. One very important c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the V i c t o r i a n middle c l a s s was f a m i l y l o y a l t y . For V i c t o r i a n s of every c l a s s , the f a m i l y was the centre i n l e i s u r e as w e l l as l i f e . F a m i l i e s i n v a r i a b l y d i d things together, or i n groups w i t h other f a m i l i e s . The park became a l o g i c a l extension f o r t h e i r a c t i v i t i e s , so i t was not s u r p r i s i n g that group games e v e n t u a l l y became a popular form of r e c r e a t i o n i n p u b l i c parks. In 1850, F r e d e r i c k Law Olmsted, often c a l l e d the "Father of landscape a r c h i t e c t u r e i n North America", and who w i l l be discussed l a t e r i n the t h e s i s , v i s i t e d Birkenhead Park. He was enormously impressed by the park, and took back the ideas to be reformulated and reworked on a l a r g e r s c a l e , i n the c r e a t i o n of C e n t r a l Park i n New York. In h i s work, Walks and Talks of an American Farmer i n England, Olmsted recorded h i s impressions of Birkenhead Park: "... f i v e minutes of admiration, and a few more spent i n studying the manner i n which a r t had been employed to o b t a i n from nature so much beauty, and I was ready to admit that i n democratic America, there was nothing to be thought of as comparable w i t h t h i s People's Garden. Indeed, gardening had here reached -29- a p e r f e c t i o n that I never before dreamed of. I cannot undertake to describe the e f f e c t of so much t a s t e and s k i l l as had e v i d e n t l y been employed ... While watching the c r i c k e t e r s , we were threatened w i t h a shower, and hastened back to look f o r s h e l t e r , which we found i n a pagoda, on an i s l a n d approached by a Chinese b r i d g e . I t was soon f i l l e d as were the other ornamental b u i l d i n g s by a crowd of those who, l i k e ourselves had been overtaken i n the grounds by the r a i n ; and I was glad to observe that the p r i v i l e g e s of the garden were enjoyed by about e q u a l l y a l l c l a s s e s . There were some who were attended by s e r v a n t s , and sent at once f o r t h e i r c a r r i a g e s , but a l a r g e p o r t i o n were of common ranks..." 13 The i n f o r m a l Picturesque s t y l e of landscaping which Brown and Repton pioneered i s w e l l expressed i n Birkenhead Park. I t was o r i g i n a l l y f r e e of the l a t e r excesses of the Gardenesque. The greatness of the Park l i e s i n i t s u t i l i t y and i t s p u b l i c r e c r e a t i o n area, ahead of anything e l s e i n i t s time. Joseph Paxton began to r e c e i v e numerous c o n t r a c t s to design other p u b l i c parks and redesign gardens that were turned over, to the p u b l i c i n the 1850's. He t r i e d a new approach to landscape design at C r y s t a l Palace at Sydenham i n 1852, but i t i s f e l t that he was, i n general, un- s u c c e s s f u l w i t h the garden s e c t i o n because i t "degenerated" i n t o l a r g e s c a l e Gardenesque as i t was widely p r a c t i c e d i n the second h a l f of the century.1^ The C r y s t a l Palace was a glass b u i l d i n g set i n spacious grounds. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 3). Paxton's o r i g i n a l design f o r the Palace was a "Winter Garden and Garden under G l a s s " s i t u a t e d i n Hyde Park f o r the education and r e c r e a t i o n of the people of London. The s i g h t f o r the Palace was chosen at Sydenham however, so he had to deal w i t h an enormous but superb s i t e on the o u t s k i r t s of London. Paxton developed very l a v i s h I t a l i a n e s q u e type grounds w i t h broad f l i g h t s of s t e p s , urns, s t a t u e s , formal flower beds -30- and huge - fountains and water d i s p l a y s . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n s 4 and 5 and 6). The flowers at Sydenham were an a t t r a c t i o n from the beginning. Their c o l o u r , b r i l l i a n c e and type brought people from London i n a. steady stream. Chadwick s t a t e s , "the p u b l i c loved the C r y s t a l Palace f o r many years w i t h i t s flower shows, dog shows, brass band c o n t e s t s , Handel, f e s t i v a l s , i t s e x h i b i t i o n s , and perhaps most of a l l i t s fireworks.15 i t seems that although landscape c r i t i c s thought that Paxton was not t o t a l l y s u c c e s s f u l w i t h regard to the o v e r a l l composition of the C r y s t a l Palace grounds, i t was a place that was a l i v e w i t h people and used and enjoyed by many f o r years.16 Paxton was a man of great f o r e s i g h t , and seemed to understand the V i c t o r i a n need f o r a c t i v i t y i n parks. While most B r i t i s h l a n d s c a p i s t s were s t i l l concerned w i t h " p a s s i v e " landscapes as places to escape the urban environment, Paxton sensed the d e s i r e f o r f a m i l y r e c r e a t i o n areas. He r e a l i z e d that the success of the C r y s t a l Palace.beyond the suburbs of London would depend upon the movement and c i r c u l a t i o n of l a r g e crowds, and perhaps more i m p o r t a n t l y , that the crowds should be able to get to and from Sydenham q u i c k l y . Paxton became i n s t r u m e n t a l i n the extension of a r a i l w a y l i n e w i t h two s t a t i o n s , the High L e v e l at the C r y s t a l Palace and the Low L e v e l which was connected to the Palace by a glazed c o r r i d o r . Joseph Paxton recognized the need f o r a new s o r t of landscape, one that would be f u n c t i o n a l as w e l l as a e s t h e t i c , and used by a l l s e c t o r s of the p o p u l a t i o n . Unfortunately he was not capable of r e a l i z i n g t h i s i n an o r i g i n a l way. He attempted a garden on a l a r g e s c a l e Gardenesque s t y l e . The s i g n i f i c a n c e of t h i s attempt i s that i t had a vast impact on park designers who were l a y i n g out parks i n the l a t e r part of the century. -31- I r o n i c a l l y i n h i s l a t e r parks Paxton g e n e r a l l y returned to the i n f o r m a l landscape s t y l e w i t h which he was so p r o f i c i e n t , but the formal precedent had been set at Sydenham, and was taken up by others at the end of the V i c t o r i a n e r a . Park .Development i n the North of England In the north of England, many see the botanic gardens as the forerunner of the p u b l i c park. They were u s u a l l y created and maintained by a l o c a l s o c i e t y and some of these gardens date to as e a r l y as the 17th Century. With the 19th Century i n t e r e s t i n botany and h o r t i c u l t u r e and w i t h new species introduced from t r a v e l abroad, there was a renewed i n - t e r e s t i n the l o c a l botanic gardens. Loudon had e a r l i e r been i n v o l v e d i n designing the b o t a n i c a l gardens f o r L i v e r p o o l and Birmingham. In 1840, the Town Council of L i v e r p o o l purchased the r i g h t of free access to the Botanic Gardens on Sundays and another day a week f o r a l l s e c t i o n s of the p o p u l a t i o n of L i v e r p o o l . In the 1840's there were a l s o plans f o r the development of botanic gardens i n Manchester, B r i s t o l and Cheltenham. The North of England seemed to be g r e a t l y i n v o l v e d w i t h b o t a n i c a l gardens and the park movement as the i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s i n p a r t i c u l a r were beginning to be concerned about the q u a l i t y of t h e i r environment. This concern, together w i t h the enthusiasm and e f f o r t of a few i n d i v i d u a l s , were i n s t r u m e n t a l i n the push f o r p u b l i c parks. A manufacturer named Mark P h i l i p s , f o r example, was i n s t r u m e n t a l i n o r i g i n a t i n g p u b l i c parks i n Manchester. When he began to lobby f o r the p r o v i s i o n of parks, he presented evidence to the p r e v i o u s l y mentioned S e l e c t Committee on P u b l i c Walks i n 1833, and he was a l s o r e s p o n s i b l e f o r a p u b l i c meeting i n 1844 w i t h the l o c a l community to c a l l a t t e n t i o n to the need f o r parks. -32- A month l a t e r another meeting was h e l d i n the Free Trade H a l l , where the working c l a s s e s of Manchester and S a l f o r d constructed a r e s o l u t i o n . "... Parks must be e s t a b l i s h e d , l i f e preserved, h e a l t h confirmed or r e s t o r e d , i n t e l l e c t c u l t i v a t e d and morals improved, and working men and women must each cast t h e i r mites and work h e a r t i l y i n the cause."-'-7 A fund was set up by the people of Manchester, w i t h c o n t r i b u t i o n s from Mark P h i l i p s and a few other enlightened manufacturers. There was enough money r a i s e d to purchase three s i t e s , two i n Manchester and one i n S a l f o r d . A design competition was held f o r the design of the parks and over 100 design schemes were submitted. A man named Joshua Major, a s s i s t e d by h i s son Henry, won f i r s t p r i z e . Major was a very knowledgeable gardener and i n 1852 wrote a book c a l l e d The. Theory and P r a c t i s e of Landscape Gardening. In i t he t r a c e d the development of the ideas of C a p a b i l i t y Brown and Humphry Repton, and wholeheartedly supported the work that Loudon had done i n the e v o l u t i o n of the Gardenesque s t y l e of landscaping. Major's adaption of the Gardenesque on a park s c a l e i s shown i n I l l u s t r a t i o n 7, the design f o r the Leeds B o t a n i c a l and Z o o l o g i c a l Garden. The Manchester committee had required that besides the t r a d i t i o n a l features of a park, the competitors provide playgrounds and space f o r as many v a r i e t i e s of games as p o s s i b l e . Major responded w i t h 12 to 15 acres f o r " c r i c k e t , knor and s p e l l , l e a p i n g p o l e s , f o o t b a l l and f o o t r a c e s , archery and bowling greens, etc."IS Major a l s o recommended that the area f o r games should be grazed by sheep because i t would provide an economical way of keeping a l a r g e area of grass i n order. This idea i s s t i l l used i n p a r t s of New Zealand today, where there i s o f t e n a sheep paddock to house the "lawnmowers". -33- In 1844 the i d e a of f a c i l i t i e s f o r games was s t i l l r e v o l u t i o n a r y , f o r as l a t e as 1875, the term p u b l i c . p a r k was s t i l l synonymous w i t h a pub- l i c walk as used i n the P u b l i c Health Act of 1875. The park was s t i l l thought of as a place f o r walking e x e r c i s e and peaceful r e l a x a t i o n of the mind. Paxton was i n v o l v e d i n the plans f o r Birkenhead Park at that time but i t i s unclear whether the people of the Manchester Committee were aware of h i s accommodation f o r games or whether they a r r i v e d at the d e c i s i o n to have space f o r games on t h e i r own. The t o t a l cost f o r the Manchester parks i n c l u d i n g the a c q u i s i t i o n of land was about ̂ 30,000, ^3,000 of which had been donated from the government's m i s e r l y fund of ^10,000 f o r the encouragement of p u b l i c parks i n a l l of England,and set up grudgingly a f t e r the 1833 Select Committee f o r P u b l i c Walks. Most of the money f o r the p u b l i c parks was c o n t r i b u t e d by the people of Manchester and S a l f o r d . The C i t y of Manchester continued to be a pioneer of p u b l i c parks o and played a key r o l e i n the e v o l u t i o n of the urban park. By the 1850 s i n two of the parks, a gymnasium and swimming baths f o r women had- been i n - s t a l l e d . The importance of the Manchester parks l i e s i n the f a c t that the novelty of t h e i r conception made a r e a l c o n t r i b u t i o n to urban l i f e rather than j u s t being examples of good landscape. Edward Kemp, a c l o s e a s s o c i a t e of Paxton's, was very i n f l u e n t i a l i n the e v o l u t i o n of park design i n the n o r t h . He had worked w i t h Paxton on Birkenhead Park, and e v e n t u a l l y became i t s f i r s t s u p e r v i s o r . He was most i n f l u e n t i a l perhaps i n h i s use of the Gardenesque s t y l e of landscaping when he l a i d out p u b l i c parks. His r a t i o n a l e f o r using t h i s s t y l e i n gardens -34- rather than a geometric or picturesque s t y l e i s e x p l a i n e d , "The geometric or formal s t y l e was q u i t e acceptable, but obviously had i t s l i m i t s w i t h i n the general s e t t i n g of the E n g l i s h landscape; the Picturesque w h i l e a t t r a c t i v e i n i t s t h e o r e t i c a l p o s s i b i l i t i e s , was sadly l a c k i n g i n i t s p r a c t i c a l a p p l i c a t i o n . T h e Gardenesque then was a l o g i c a l development p a r t i c u l a r l y i n i t s h i s t o r i c a l context. Joseph Paxton's i n f l u e n c e was c a r r i e d out not only by Edward Kemp, but a l s o by John Gibson and Edward M i l l e r . The r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r many p u b l i c parks and p r i v a t e gardens i n England and on the Continent, belonged to these three men. The 1860's saw numerous new p u b l i c parks opened i n the North of England; A l b e r t Park was opened i n Middleborough, Alexandra Park i n Manchester, and L i v e r p o o l obtained three new parks which, together, formed a r i n g of park on the upland edge of town. Development of P u b l i c Parks i n London The development of p u b l i c parks was somewhat d i f f e r e n t i n the C i t y of London. The people of London had a c t u a l l y been able to walk through the r o y a l hunting parks f o r many years. In 1649 these were declared the property of the Commonwealth and by the l a t e 1700's the p r i v i l e g e of walking i n St. James Park, Green Park, Hyde Park, and Kensington Gardens, had become a p u b l i c r i g h t . With t h i s h i s t o r i c a l development London faced r a t h e r d i f f e r e n t circumstances than the i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s i n the north. F i r s t l y , most parks i n London o r i g i n a l l y belonged to the Crown, and although they were l a r g e , they were not o r i g i n a l l y designed f o r p u b l i c use. Loudon pointed out that they were t o t a l l y inadequate f o r the "mere p e d e s t r i a n " . Secondly, London faced the problem of being so l a r g e , and at that time l o c a l a d m i n i s t r a t i v e bodies were so hopeless at making improvements and g e t t i n g things done, that the c e n t r a l government was the only body that was i n the p o s i t i o n to t a c k l e the problems of that time. The t h i r d problem was that the B r i t i s h Government had i t s own p o l i c y on the development of p u b l i c parks i n London. They maintained that n o n - p r o f i t a b l e undertakings such as parks were the business of p h i l a n t h r o p i s t s . George Chadwick s t a t e s t h a t , " I t i s not s u r p r i s i n g that the f i r s t of London's V i c t o r i a n parks were only grudgingly provided by Government a c t i o n , pressed by p u b l i c c o n c e r n . " ^ These parks remained i n the hands of the H.M. Commissioners of Woods and Forests and the O f f i c e of Works u n t i l 1887, a f t e r which they were t r a n s f e r r e d to the M e t r o p o l i t a n Board of Works. By the mid 19th Century, the p o p u l a t i o n of London had doubled from 958,000 i n 1801 to 1,948,000 i n 1841. The 1833 Select Committee on P u b l i c Walks noted that although there had been a tremendous growth of population i n the C i t y of London, there was however, a problem of the d i s t r i b u t i o n of parks. The e x i s t i n g open spaces were a l l l o c a t e d i n London's West End - an area already endowed w i t h f i n e gardens and squares w h i l e the East End was v i r t u a l l y v o i d of r e c r e a t i o n space. A B r i t i s h MP, Joseph Hume i s u s u a l l y c r e d i t e d w i t h the c a l l f o r a p u b l i c park f o r the East End. He was a l s o d i r e c t l y i n v o l v e d w i t h a p u b l i c meeting f o r i n t e r e s t e d persons that was h e l d i n 1840, to urge the Crown to provide the Eastern area w i t h a park. 30,000 people i n the eastern hamlets signed a memorial p e t i t i o n f o r the new park. Seven years l a t e r , the Commissioners of Woods and Forests provided the sum o f ^ H 5 , 6 8 3 -36- f o r the c o n s t r u c t i o n of "the park to be c a l l e d V i c t o r i a Park." The s i t e f o r V i c t o r i a Park was on the o u t s k i r t s of London near the v i l l a g e s of Hackney and Bethnal Green. The design was done by James Pennethorne, an employee of the Commissioners of Woods and Forests. The park was to be 193 acres plus 103 acres f o r h o u s i n g , l i k e Regent's Park and P r i n c e ' s Park. Pennethorne was not concerned w i t h landscape gardening, which i n the end was very sparse, but w i t h the general p a t t e r n of develop- ment. He r e c e i v e d scathing c r i t i c i s m from many sources and the Gardener's Chronicle accused the government of c o n s i d e r i n g anything good enough f o r the east of London.^1 John Gibson, a man who worked w i t h Paxton was then h i r e d as superintendent of the park and w i t h i n two years he had made p o s i t i v e a l t e r a t i o n s and m o d i f i c a t i o n s to i t . I t i s due to Gibson that V i c t o r i a Park today has a r e p u t a t i o n f o r i t s l o v e l y f l o r a l d i s p l a y s . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 8). When the land f o r V i c t o r i a Park was acquired, the Commission f o r the Improvement of the M e t r o p o l i s was set up? and i t reported i n 1844 that i t considered the improvement of the embankment of the Thames to be a worthwhile p r o j e c t . Although t h i s open space was not opened f o r 26 years, the d i s c u s s i o n l e d to the c o n s i d e r a t i o n of the Battersea F i e l d s as a place of r e c r e a t i o n . The f i e l d s were already used as l o c a l pleasure grounds f o r Sunday games and they were extremely a c c e s s i b l e to a l l parts of London by using Thames steamboats. Because of the idea and c r e a t i o n of p u b l i c parks i n the North, and w i t h the precedent of V i c t o r i a Park i n London, the Com- mission considered the p o s s i b i l i t y of the Battersea F i e l d s . In 1846 the government passed the enabling Acts to spend d£200,000 on the a c q u i s i - t i o n of land and the c o n s t r u c t i o n and p l a n t i n g f o r B a t t e r s e a . I t was p a r t i c u l a r l y i n t e r e s t e d because there were obvious advantages to combining the park w i t h the embanking of the northern Chelsea shore of the Thames and the c o n s t r u c t i o n of a b r i d g e . B u i l d i n g p l o t s would subsequently be- come more a c c e s s i b l e and v a l u a b l e . The program f o r B a t t e r s e a Park ran i n t o d i f f i c u l t i e s when the Loans Commission made only a token advance f o r the a c q u i s i t i o n of the land. In 1849 the Commission of Woods and Forests was moved to r e p o r t , "Our proceedings f o r the a c q u i s i t i o n of t h i s property have been impeded by the want of funds, the delay being m a n i f e s t l y i n j u r i o u s to the i n t e r e s t s of 9 9 the Crown." The Park was completed i n 1857, but at a considerably higher cost than was estimated ten years p r e v i o u s l y . Pennethorne., and Gibson worked f o r the Commission, and were r e s - p o n s i b l e f o r the development of B a t t e r s e a . Gibson was r e s p o n s i b l e f o r the d e t a i l e d s e c t i o n s of the park; the many species of t r e e s , the choice shrubs, and the ornamental water, w h i l e working w i t h i n Pennethorne's framework and s u p e r v i s i o n . The r e s u l t was a f a i r l y s a t i s f y i n g landscape that was f i n a l l y completed i n 1861. In 1855 the M e t r o p o l i t a n Management Act set up the M e t r o p o l i t a n Board of Works. I t was the f i r s t comprehensive body that was put together f o r the purpose of l o c a l government i n London, and i t r e l i e v e d the Govern- ment of d i r e c t r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r such things as the p r o v i s i o n of parks. By t h i s time the wheels were t u r n i n g i n B r i t a i n toward e s t a b l i s h i n g p u b l i c parks wherever the urban populations were i n need. The Board of Works began making p r o v i s i o n s and a c q u i r i n g more parks; Finsburg and Southwark Parks were soon added. In 1887, the r o y a l p a r k s , V i c t o r i a , B a t t e r s e a , and Kennington were t r a n s f e r r e d to the M e t r o p o l i t a n Board of Works forming the -38- nucleus of the present park system i n London. The development of p u b l i c parks i n London t h e r e f o r e , was a r a t h e r piecemeal process. Most of London's parks were not o r i g i n a l l y l a i d out f o r p u b l i c use and had to go through improvements and renovations i n order to b e t t e r serve the p u b l i c need. London experienced a d i f f e r e n t process than the i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s i n the n o r t h , l a r g e l y because of the nature and the character of the C i t y , i t s h i s t o r y , s o c i a l make-up and r e s i d e n t i a l segregation. The Parks i n the East End were developed only a f t e r considerable lobbying by a few members of Parliament, and by an organized community e f f o r t . The Parks of P a r i s The c i t y of P a r i s was to experience a d i f f e r e n t phenomenon during the i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n . The i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n occurred a h a l f century l a t e r i n France than i t d i d i n England, so P a r i s was s t i l l a l a t e Baroque c i t y w h i l e England was coping w i t h the new i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s . By the time that i n d u s t r i a l i s m was taken up i n P a r i s , i t was a much more modern c i t y than had been the case i n England. Jere Stuart French a t t r i b u t e s the d i f - ference to the f a c t that P a r i s was, and i s , a very "urbane c i t y . " 2 3 The parks of P a r i s were not created as a r e a c t i o n to unpleasant surroundings or as a place of escape, but as a part of the c i t y environment. As e a r l y as 1793, the Plan de l a Commission des A r t i s t e s expressed the d e s i r e to organize and modernize P a r i s . Napoleon I I I had a c l e a r idea of what he wanted to do w i t h h i s c i t y and went as f a r as to o u t l i n e s e v e r a l p r o j e c t s . Most of h i s d e s i r e s were f o r the sake of m i l i t a r y s t r a t e g y . He h i r e d Georges Eugene Haussmann i n 1853 to transform P a r i s i n t o an e f f i c i e n t c i t y , yet one that possessed a green environment. Almost overnight i t became -39- a modern c i t y . I t was a " c i t y of l i g h t s " and the P a r i s i a n s f l o c k e d to the sidewalk cafes and the park promenades. Within 30 years the "cen- t u r i e s of medieval c l u t t e r was scraped from the face of Paris."24 In 1851 P a r i s had only 47 acres of municipal parks; the Champs Elysees, the Place des Vosges, the T u i l e r i e s , and the Luxembourg Gardens. Within 19 years the acreage had expanded to 4500 acres. The designs r e f l e c t e d the E n g l i s h very i n f o r m a l use of broad sweeping areas w i t h planted t e r r a i n so as to i n t e g r a t e the s e n s i t i v e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of design on the ground. The r e l a t i o n of these new parks i n P a r i s to the parks of England was obvious, and i n developing parks f o r p u b l i c use, i t was very n a t u r a l to turn to the E n g l i s h examples that could be seen and understood as part of the pioneer movement i n p u b l i c park design. In t a c k l i n g the problems that faced the c i t y , Haussmann con- centrated on three major areas: a) the improvement of h e a l t h c o n d i t i o n s by c l e a r i n g away narrow a l l e y s and i n t r o d u c i n g l i g h t , a i r , and s a n i t a t i o n ; b) the improved appearance of the c i t y . To provide new amenities w h i l e at the same time e s t a b l i s h i n g a p o l i c y to d i s p l a y the c i t y ' s o l d monuments and a r c h i t e c t u r a l t r e a s u r e s ; c) the improvement of c i r c u l a t i o n to make b e t t e r access from palaces and barracks to a l l parts of the c i t y i n time of emergency. Haussmann addressed a l l three c r i t e r i a when he created a new park,, garden and open space system. He, w i t h the help of Alphand, l a i d out new parks, redesigned those,parks from e a r l i e r eras, and connected the parks and open space by the massively planted new boulevards. -40- The importance of Haussmann's park plans i s r e f l e c t e d i n s t i t u t i o n - a l l y . There was a planning agency, the D i r e c t i o n du Plan de P a r i s under the d i r e c t i o n of Deschamps; the Service des Eaux et des'Egouts under the engineer Belgrand; and the Service des Promenades et P l a n t a t i o n s under the j a r d i n i e r i n g e n i e u r , Alphand. Work on the Bois de Bolgone had a c t u a l l y s t a r t e d i n 1852 before Haussman was appointed. The Emperor wanted a park to r i v a l Hyde Park and the other Royal Parks i n London, so the C i t y of P a r i s took over the Bois from the Crown on the understanding that two m i l l i o n francs were to be spent on improvements. The Emperor's i n t e r e s t was l i k e l y the l a r g e s t f a c t o r i n reproducing the E n g l i s h landscape s t y l e that the Bois was to become. P r e v i o u s l y , the park had been used f o r t r a d i t i o n a l hunting r i d e s complete w i t h roundpoints ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 9) before Jean-Alphonse Alphand took over c r e a t i n g l e v e l a l t e r a t i o n s , broad open spaces, and serpentine l a k e s . He t r e a t e d the smaller, s c a l e s e c t i o n s a l i t t l e d i f f e r e n t l y by p l a n t i n g many c o l o u r f u l flowers. The Longchamps r a c e t r a c k was a l s o s i t u a t e d i n the park and helped to make the Bois de Boulogne i n the bouregois West of P a r i s , a r e c r e a t i o n space not even e q u a l l e d by London's West End. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 10) There was no evidence that the P a r i s i a n p u b l i c was organized i n any way to v o i c e the d e s i r e and need f o r p u b l i c parks. Perhaps i t i s because they were not experiencing the negative e f f e c t s of the i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n before the d e c i s i o n was made to " b e a u t i f y " the c i t y . Nor were the lower c l a s s e s f o r g o t t e n . Only a few years a f t e r the commencement on the Bois de Boulogne, Haussmann o u t l i n e d plans f o r an even l a r g e r park, the Bois de -41- Vincennes i n the East End of P a r i s . P r i o r to 1840, the area had been a l a r g e wood w i t h a few r i d i n g paths. This park evolved much more s l o w l y because i t was much more expensive than the Bois de Boulogne, c o s t i n g an estimated 32.7 m i l l i o n francs i n the end. The Bois de Vincennes was ceded to the m u n i c i p a l i t y i n 1860, when at that time a new l a k e , Lac des Minimes had been excavated, and there were c o n s i d e r a b l y more d r i v e s through the woods. Alphand then added more l a k e s , some which were embellished w i t h i s l a n d s "amidst lawns and t r e e s " . He used the excavated m a t e r i a l to form a l a r g e mound c a l l e d the P l a t e a u de C r a v e l l e which a f f o r d e d a magnificent view of the c i t y . Besides the u s u a l paraphernalia of a p u b l i c park, Alphand and Haussmann a l s o added a r a c e t r a c k and m i l i t a r y t r a i n i n g areas. In a d d i t i o n to two l a r g e "landscape parks", Haussmann provided three smaller " p a r c - i n t e r i c u r s " i n the c i t y ; the Pare de Monceau, the Buttes-Chaumont which was created out of an abandoned gypsum quarry i n the north of the c i t y , and the Pare de Montsouris i n the southern part of the c i t y . In the case of the Pare des Buttes-Chaumont, a major road and a r a i l - way were i n g e n i o u s l y absorbed by the grading of the park. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 11) L i k e the l a r g e r parks, these smaller ones were designed i n the s t y l e of the E n g l i s h landscape park w i t h only small s e c t i o n s devoted to the "French f r i l l s " such as geometric s e t t i n g s and a concern f o r colour and a r c h i t e c t u r a l embellishments. Between 1855 and 1868 twenty two squares were l a i d out, but u n l i k e London, these were p u b l i c squares that were maintained by the c i t y . The emperor wanted Alphand to reproduce the character of the squares that he had -42- seen i n London's West End. Alphand, however, d i d not produce t h i s l i k e n e s s . While h i s l a r g e r parks were l a i d out on the i n f o r m a l E n g l i s h s t y l e , smaller s c a l e areas and p l a n t i n g were-handled d i f f e r e n t l y . Alphand loved flowers and created the squares i n h i s " j a r d i n f l e u r i s t e " s t y l e . He saw garden squares as "a melody of c o l o u r s . " The flower areas found on the Champs Elysees and i n the squares of P a r i s were used to smooth the j u n c t i o n between grass and shrubs, and were q u i t e narrow w i t h p a r a l l e l bands of f l o w e r s . Alphand l a i d out smaller open spaces throughout the c i t y which were to be green i n t e r l u d e s i n the o v e r a l l park p a t t e r n of P a r i s . He a l s o r e - modelled the gardens along the Champs Elysees i n t o s o f t kidney shapes w i t h i n the formal rectangular framework plus the garden s t r i p s that adorned the boulevards. Haussmann even went as f a r as to have the o l d J a r d i n au Luxem- bourg remodelled i n 1867 at the time of the c o n s t r u c t i o n of the Avenue de 1'observatare. The French garden e s s e n t i a l l y followed the development of the E n g l i s h garden of the f i r s t h a l f of the 19th century. The Picturesque garden of the 18th century became i n c r e a s i n g l y elaborate as the i n f l u e n c e of the Gardenes- que spread. The French devoted more space to paved areas which was l o g i c a l because the lawn d i d not do as w e l l i n the French c l i m a t e . I t a l s o made sense when i t i s r e a l i z e d that the French's conception of l e i s u r e was prom- enading, and t h e r e f o r e an elaborate system of walks and r i d e s was necessary. In England the formal p u b l i c walks were g i v i n g way to more games areas and l e s s formal space, but i n France, t h i s was never the case. One p u b l i c park t r a d i t i o n that North Americans have i n h e r i t e d from the French, i s the p r a c t i c e of u s i n g very complex flower designs to s p e l l or -43- d i s p l a y messages. The use of f l o r a l c l o c k s and designs of welcome, "Welcome to S m i t h v i l l e " , and s p e c i a l f e s t i v e features i s a t r a d i t i o n that o r i g i n a t e d i n France. Despite-high labour costs today,, t h i s t r a d i t i o n i s s t i l l c a r r i e d out i n many urban parks. Haussmann i s u s u a l l y c r e d i t e d w i t h three b a s i c accomplishments i n the r e o r g a n i z a t i o n of Paris:' a communications system which was of p a r t i - c u l a r value to the m i l i t a r y ; a park system; and an a d m i n i s t r a t i v e o r g a n i - z a t i o n that enabled the enormous changes to be c a r r i e d out i n P a r i s w i t h i n 15 years. The park system was a l s o a part of m i l i t a r y s t r a t e g y to move and t r a i n troops q u i c k l y , as w e l l as a response to environmental concerns. Nevertheless the r e s u l t was the f i r s t park system i n Europe and one that was w e l l balanced i n terms of a c c e s s i b i l i t y to most s o c i a l s e c t o r s . I t seems that the French never looked upon t h e i r parks as places of escape, but as a c o n t i n u a t i o n of t h e i r c i t y . The French have t r a d i t i o n - a l l y been very urbane people and have not experienced the same phenomena of suburbanization and d e c e n t r a l i z a t i o n that the B r i t i s h and North Americans have. The French urban dweller does not seem to long f o r the " r u r a l country- s i d e " as h i s B r i t i s h counterpart has t r a d i t i o n a l l y done. I t seems f a t e f u l that the Emperor of the time was so taken w i t h Hyde Park that he ordered Haussmann to develop the same type of landscape i n the two B o i s . Had t h i s not been the case, the French may have evolved a new and d i f f e r e n t type of park system, one that was i n greater harmony w i t h the urban f a b r i c and experience i n P a r i s . -44- Development.of P u b l i c Parks on the Continent The park movement on the continent seemed to have gone through two phases; the f i r s t occurred about a decade before the movement i n England, p r i m a r i l y because of damage done i n the Napoleonic Wars, and the second was a resurgence of concern about open space as a r e s u l t of the spread of i n - d u s t r i a l i s m . Germany was the leader among the c o n t i n e n t a l c o u n t r i e s and had p u b l i c gardens that were i n use before the end of the 1700's The f i r s t p u b l i c park i n Germany was opened i n Munich i n 1789. I t was c a l l e d the " E n g l i s c h e r Garden" which was along the River I s a r and was a 3 mile long r i v e r s i d e promenade. The park was l a i d out i n the e a r l y " E n g l i s h Landscape" s t y l e . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 12) The i n f l u e n c e came from an Englishman named Benjamin Thompson, who went to Munich i n 1784 at the i n v i t a t i o n of K a r l Theodor of Bavaria. Thompson i s c r e d i t e d w i t h suggesting a "people's park" to the p r i n c e and subsequently had an i n f l u e n c e on i t s design.25 He was ahead of h i s time when he suggested a park f o r the German people, based on the current E n g l i s h p r i v a t e e s t a t e design. His i n f l u e n c e was immediately popular and i n 1807, s i m i l a r s e r i e s of small p u b l i c gardens were l a i d out i n F r a n k f u r t . The E n g l i s h s t y l e of landscaping was used i n many cases where there had been damage from the Napoleonic Wars. A landscape a r c h i t e c t , Peter Joseph Lenne, was i n v o l v e d i n the r e s t o r a t i o n of s e v e r a l places and was g r e a t l y i n f l u e n c e d by the B r i t i s h p r i v a t e e s t a t e s . In 1824, Lenne planted 120 acres of o l d town f o r t i f i c a t i o n s i n Magdeburg, which so impressed Loudon that he wrote about i t -in h i s Encyclopedia of Gardening. Lenne became very i n - f l u e n t i a l i n the development of p u b l i c gardens i n Germany as w e l l as the f i r s t p u b l i c parks i n B e r l i n . He was r e s p o n s i b l e f o r remodelling the Neuer -45- Gaten of Potsdam i n 1816, and presented proposals f o r Sans-Souci i n 1816 and Charlottenburg i n 1819. Although the German p u b l i c b e n e f i t e d from the opening of p u b l i c parks very e a r l y i n the 19th Century, these parks had e s s e n t i a l l y a l l been remodelled from e a r l i e r r o y a l gardens or o l d f o r t i f i c a t i o n s . The c r e a t i o n of completely new parks d i d not occur u n t i l Germany too,began to f e e l the e f f e c t s of the i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n . Chadwick f e e l s that Lennes work was the German forerunner of the park system.26 gy 1871 a l l the l a r g e towns i n Germany had p u b l i c parks and B e r l i n even had a V i c t o r i a n park, j u s t l i k e any E n g l i s h town of that time. Germany e v e n t u a l l y e s t a b l i s h e d i t s own "park s t y l e " , but t h i s d i d not occur u n t i l the 20th Century when park design had s u c c e s s f u l l y shaken the Gardenesque i n f l u e n c e . German -landscape a r c h i t e c t s developed a new s t y l e along formal l i n e s that was a c t u a l l y an extension of the Gardenesque, and that l e d the world i n new ideas i n p u b l i c parks f o r a time. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 13) The Germans were among the f i r s t i n the world to produce t r u l y modern l a n d - scapes under the auspices of people l i k e Leberecht Migge. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 14) The development of parks f o r the p u b l i c was slower to s t a r t i n Holland. In the 1850's the land i n s i d e the c i t y f o r t i f i c a t i o n s of Amsterdam had been used up, so there was pressure to b u i l d o u t s i d e . A new plan c a l l e d the UITBREIDINGSPLAN was drawn up i n 1886. I t was i n a l l l i k e l i h o o d i n - fluenced by Haussmann and Alphand's work i n P a r i s , because the plan had a d e f i n i t e p a t t e r n of c i t y parks. The f i r s t p u b l i c parks i n Copenhagen, apart from e x i s t i n g r o y a l -46- gardens, were o l d f o r t i f i c a t i o n s l a i d out i n 1870. E a r l i e r George Cartensen, i n a p h i l a n t h r o p i c gesture, took over part of the ramparts i n 1843 and opened them as the T i v o l i . In A u s t r i a , Josef I I had already given the P r a t e r to Vienna i n 1776, but again, t h i s was a former r o y a l park and A u s t r i a was a long time i n developing a "park system". I t seems that w h i l e Kent, Brown and Repton were c r e a t i n g p r i v a t e parks a l l over England at the t u r n of the 18th century, Germany and Vienna were going ahead w i t h p u b l i c parks and "people's parks". Indeed, C o n t i n e n t a l v i s i t o r s to B r i t a i n were s u r p r i s e d to f i n d that the use of Regent's Park and the London Squares were r e s t r i c t e d to surrounding houseowners. The c i t i e s of the Continent however, d i d not develop a park system, or l a y out new p u b l i c parks u n t i l a f t e r they had experienced the e f f e c t s of the i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n and had seen Haussmann's "new P a r i s " . The Continent i n i t i a l l y seemed to be very i n f l u e n c e d by B r i t a i n and France and i t was not u n t i l w e l l i n t o the 20th century, that German and Dutch p u b l i c park design came to the f o r e f r o n t w i t h new ideas. Summary At the end of the 19th Century i n B r i t a i n , two a l t e r n a t i v e approaches had evolved to deal w i t h the problems created i n c i t i e s by the i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n . One of these was to b u i l d the new i n d u s t r i a l c i t y , as advocated by people l i k e Robert Owen. These were intended to accommodate the i n f l u x of i n d u s t r y , and were l a i d out f o r the i n d u s t r i a l workers. Parks were an i n - t e g r a l part of these new c i t i e s and the parks' designs r e f l e c t e d the a e s t h e t i c and r e c r e a t i o n a l needs of people. When these new c i t i e s were s t i l l i n the conceptual stages some of the ideas were t r a n s f e r r e d to the Colonies by people l i k e W i l l i a m Wakefield, who, from the beginning, ensured that p u b l i c parks were a major part of c i t y design. The other approach was the redevelopment and improvement of e x i s t i n g c i t i e s . In the C i t y of London the e x i s t i n g r o y a l parks and gardens were r e - designed to provide open space f o r the p o p u l a t i o n and t h e i r design was t h e r e - fore h i s t o r i c a l and l e s s f l e x i b l e . Another form of open space was the c r e a t i o n of t o t a l l y new parks which were intended f o r the r e c r e a t i o n a l needs of the surrounding population. V i c t o r i a and Battersea Parks were the f i r s t parks i n London to be designed t h i s way. The f i r s t response to the negative aspects of i n d u s t r i a l i z a t i o n seen on the landscape, was i n the north of England. The e a r l y i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s were becoming an i n t o l e r a b l e , environment. I t was t h i s r e a c t i o n , plus the o r g a n i z a t i o n a l s k i l l s of a few people, that r e s u l t e d i n Birkenhead, and the Manchester Parks - the f i r s t examples of parks o r i g i n a l l y designed f o r p u b l i c use and the f i r s t parks that were an attempt to improve the i n - d u s t r i a l c i t y . By 1900 P a r i s had a park system, the f i r s t i n the Western World. The system came out of a d e s i r e to r e j u v i n a t e the c i t y f o r a e s t h e t i c as w e l l as m i l i t a r y purposes, not out of a r e a c t i o n to unfavourable l i v i n g c o n d i t i o n s . The c l e a r mandate that Haussmann and Alphand had, r e s u l t e d i n a very d i f f e r e n t process than what t h e i r many B r i t i s h counterparts experienced. F i n a l l y , the C o n t i n e n t a l c o u n t r i e s opened t h e i r r o y a l parks, o l d f o r t i f i c a t i o n s , and p u b l i c gardens i n the l a t e 1700's and e a r l y 1800's, -48- but d i d not consider new forms and a l t e r n a t i v e s f o r parks, u n t i l w e l l a f t e r the B r i t i s h and French experience. These are the t r a d i t i o n s and developments from which the North Americans learned, as they s e r i o u s l y began to consider urban p u b l i c open space i n the l a t t e r h a l f of the 19th Century. -49- FOOTNOTES 1 P a t r i c k Nuttgens, The Landscape of Ideas (London: Faber and Faber L t d . , 1972), p. 82. 2 Asa B r i g g s , V i c t o r i a n C i t i e s (Middlesex: Penguin Books, 1963) p. 12. 3 F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted, Forty Years of Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e : C e n t r a l Park (Cambridge: MIT Press, 1973), p. 8. 4 I b i d . , p. 9. 5 Geoffrey Dutton, Founder of a C i t y (Melbourne, F.W. Chesire, 1960), p. 125. ^ Gerald Burke, Towns i n . the Making (London: Edward Arnold Pub., L t d . , 1971), p. 136. 7 Ebenezer Howard, Garden C i t i e s of Tomorrow (London: Faber and Faber L t d . , 1946), pp. 140 - 142. George F. Chadwick, The Park and the Town: P u b l i c Landscape i n the 19th and 20th Centuries (New York, F r e d r i c k A. Praeger Pub., 1966), p. 66. 9 I b i d . , p. 68. 1 0 I b i d . , p. 71. 11 I b i d . , p. 52. 12 Eugene C. Black, ed, V i c t o r i a n Culture and Society (New York: Walker and Co., 1974), p. 153. 13 F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted, Walks and Talks of an American Farmer i n England (London: 1852), pp. 78-82. 1 4 Chadwick, p. 91. -50- 1 5 I b i d . , p. 93. 16 Although the C r y s t a l Palace became an i n s t i t u t i o n , i t s t e a d i l y ran i n t o d i f f i c u l t i e s f i n a n c i a l l y . The gardens began to be unkempt and as a r e s u l t parts were e v e n t u a l l y s o l d on the perimeter f o r b u i l d i n g . The b u i l d i n g a l s o s u f f e r e d n e g l e c t . In 1913 i t was bought f o r the n a t i o n , p a r t l y through the promptitude of the E a r l of Plymouth and p a r t l y by p u b l i c c o l l e c t i o n . I t was reopened i n 1920 a f t e r a wartime use f o r t r a i n i n g , and featured new uses: a motor r a c i n g course; roundabouts; sports grounds; and dance h a l l s . The b u i l d i n g was completely destroyed i n a f i r e i n 1936. In 1966 there was a proposal to construct a n a t i o n a l youth and sports centre to r e i n v i g o r a t e the park. 1 7 Chadwick, p. 98. 1 8 I b i d . , p. 99. I b i d . , p. 101. 19 20 21 22 23 I b i d . , p. I l l . I b i d . , p. 123. I b i d . , p. 127. Jere Stuart French, Urban Green, C i t y Parks of the Western World (Dubuque, Iowa: Kendall/Hunt Pub., Co., 1973), p. 18. 2 4 I b i d . , p. 18. 2 5 Chadwick, p. 249. I b i d . , p. 250. 26. KEFGRT O l THE NETRbPDUTAN AREA OF ADELAIDE, -St- - 5 5 - Str - 5 7 - - 5 8 - I L L U S T K A T I O M 8 V'CTORVA B \ R K B^j J A M B feviMETHoT3»JE \64£>. c m i » N \ c V c R 1 1 4 - \LULJ£>T*9\T\ON n B o i s . d e BOUJLOQNJ e B e R y f c e r e s -<aO- | LL_U£>T^AT1 ON IO Bois «de "BouLaSAJgr AFTER ITS T R A M S F O T S MATiC M By A L T H A M T ^ . CNAPVVUCX, p . i t s . - 6 2 . - IU-XT3T BAfT I C M 1 2 . ENterUSCVAETe- G > W ^ M , M U M lCt+ 1 7 8 4 |LLUSTT2AT\oM 1 3 m r r z , S C H U M A C H E R S S T A P T W R * : , -65- CHAPTER 3 THE DEVELOPMENT OF PARKS AND PARK SYSTEMS IN THE UNITED STATES AND CANADA I n t r o d u c t i o n In the Americas, the f i r s t forms of p u b l i c open space were the town squares and the v i l l a g e commons. In these New World towns the French, the Spanish, and the E n g l i s h t r i e d to create a c e n t r a l meeting place l i k e those i n Europe. These spaces u s u a l l y stood beside a church, a town h a l l , or the main b u i l d i n g s of the town. The people of Savannah f o r example, created one of the most i n t e r e s t i n g s e r i e s of town squares. The c i t y was o r i g i n a l l y l a i d out w i t h a simple c e n t r a l square but w i t h the p r o v i s i o n that t h i s form should be r e p l i c a t e d as the g r i d was extended. By 1856, Savannah had 24 small squares and open spaces i n a d d i t i o n to the c e n t r a l p u b l i c garden. The commons were u s u a l l y used f o r p a s t u r i n g stock, and as a place to h o l d p u b l i c markets. Some of these commons have survived the t r a n s - i t i o n to modern parks; the Boston Common and the H a l i f a x Common are perhaps the most s u c c e s s f u l examples. However most v i l l a g e commons and town squares have not made the t r a n s i t i o n to what we consider a "park" today, but continue to be a very important part of the urban s t r u c t u r e p a r t i c u l a r l y when they are of h i s t o r i - c a l s i g n i f i c a n c e to that town or c i t y . Although the o r i g i n a l need was out- grown by the e a r l y 1800's, the idea of open space.was r e t a i n e d and e v e n t u a l l y expressed i n a d i f f e r e n t form. The Americans d i d not have the long t r a d i t i o n of monarchy, and - 6 6 - therefore d i d not i n h e r i t former r o y a l parks and hunting grounds as European c i t i e s d i d . Nor were any great estates donated or purchased f o r the purpose of p u b l i c parks. From the very beginning the Americans were to acquire land f o r the e x p l i c i t purpose of c r e a t i n g a park, and they were to r e l y h e a v i l y on the B r i t i s h design experience. The development of p u b l i c parks i n the U.S. was s t r o n g l y i n f l u e n c e d by a few i n d i v i d u a l s who modelled t h e i r work on the English, landscape s t y l e , but implemented m o d i f i c a t i o n s to s u i t the American c u l t u r e and c l i m a t e . The genius of these men w i l l be d e a l t w i t h i n d i v i d u a l l y so as to o u t l i n e each person's c o n t r i b u t i o n to the ideas and development of p u b l i c parks, as the park movement swept the country i n the l a s t h a l f of the 19th century. The Canadian case was somewhat d i f f e r e n t . The move f o r p u b l i c parks occurred l a t e r than i n the U.S. and was e s s e n t i a l l y a c o n t i n u a t i o n of the movement across North America. There were no prominent landscape a r c h i t e c t s i n Canada at that time and, subsequently, many ideas f o r p u b l i c parks were borrowed from the U.S. and B r i t a i n , but o f t e n without the a d m i n i s t r a - t i v e s t r u c t u r e to implement these ideas and designs. Andrew Jackson Downing and the American Landscape The man who f i r s t brought the E n g l i s h landscape t r a d i t i o n to. the American landscape was Andrew Jackson Downing. He i s perhaps, the American equivalent of John Claudius Loudon because he p e r s o n i f i e d popular t a s t e i n garden design i n the U.S. through h i s works and h i s w r i t i n g s , j u s t as Loudon had i n England. Downing's f a t h e r had a nursery near the Hudson River i n New York, which provided an a l l encompassing l e a r n i n g environment. As a c h i l d t h e r e - f o r e , Downing became very s e n s i t i v e and responsive to nature. - 6 7 - Contemporary garden design of t h i s era was b a s i c a l l y E n g l i s h garden design which r e s u l t e d i n a very strong i n f l u e n c e of the p h i l o s o p h i e s of Brown, Repton and Loudon. Downing was an e a r l y f o l l o w e r of the E n g l i s h landscape s c h o o l , but was able to s u c c e s s f u l l y make h i s own m o d i f i c a t i o n s to the American c u l t u r e and c l i m a t e . He was an e a r l y advocate of p u b l i c parks, drew a t t e n t i o n to the need, and at the same time provided a b a s i s f o r the study i n which they were to be designed. Downing maintained that the n a t u r a l character or p r e v a i l i n g "ex- p r e s s i o n of the p l a c e " should be preserved. He i n s i s t e d on the r e c o g n i t i o n of the "genius l o c i " , which i s the understanding of the b a s i c v i s u a l s i t e qualities.-*- Every s i t e had i t s own unique c h a r a c t e r , land form and vege- t a t i o n cover. This p r i n c i p l e c o n s t i t u t e s Downing's major c o n t r i b u t i o n to landscape design i n America. L i k e Loudon, Downing thought that small s c a l e flowers should be near the house or i n an enclosed flower garden removed from the general l a n d - scape. Downing used the B r i t i s h i d e a of l a r g e lawn areas a great deal and he wrote about t h i s important element. "Quite an area, i n the r e a r of the house i s devoted to a lawn, which must be kept c l o s e and green by frequent mowings so that i t w i l l be s o f t to the tread as a carpet, and i t s deep v e r - dure w i l l set o f f the gay colours of the f l o w e r i n g p l a n t s i n the surrounding beds and p a r t e r r e . " 2 He used h i s landscape s t y l e on many p r i v a t e e s t a t e s throughout New England. One mid century (1850) mansion e s t a t e i n New York looks very much l i k e Stowe i n Buckinghamshire a f t e r C a p a b i l i t y Brown f i n i s h e d h i s renovations of the gardens. Downing n a t u r a l l y i n c o r p o r a t e d pleasure d r i v e s -68- i n s t e a d of pleasure walks, and a l s o created a s e r i e s of open and closed v i s t a s or a progression of landscape scenes. This element was l a t e r picked up by C a l v e r t Vaux and F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted i n t h e i r design f o r C e n t r a l Park. Downing was a strong i n f l u e n c e on improving suburban and country homes, not only i n the a e s t h e t i c sense, but w i t h a view towards i n s p i r i n g other people's minds and encouraging them towards t h e i r own i d e a l s . His w r i t i n g s were widely read and h i s " T r e a t i s e on the Theory and P r a c t i c e of Landscape Gardening Adapted to North America With a View to the Improvement of Country Residences1,', published i n 1841, e s t a b l i s h e d him as the main a u t h o r i t y i n the U.S. on r u r a l a r t . In 1849 he became very i n t e r e s t e d i n a r c h i t e c t u r e . He t r a v e l l e d to England and brought back C a l v e r t Vaux who as an a r c h i t e c t , could provide some of the e x p e r t i s e that Downing lacked. The expansion i n t o the concern f o r a r c h i t e c t u r e was a n a t u r a l r e a c t i o n to some of the things being w r i t t e n about Young America at the time. For example, Charles Dickens, f o l l o w i n g a tour i n 1842 produced American Notes which sharply c r i t i c i z e d America f o r i t s l a c k of c u l t u r a l refinement.3 Downing, i n h i s work t r i e d to counteract these European's impressions, and encourage what people could recognize as a f i n e American c u l t u r e . At the i n v i t a t i o n of the P r e s i d e n t , Downing began to l a y out the grounds near the C a p i t a l , the White House, and the Smithsonian I n s t i t u t e i n Washington. U n f o r t u n a t e l y , Downing drowned i n a steam boat race i n J u l y of 1852 and h i s work was not completed. -69- He would have undoubtedly been i n v o l v e d i n the design of the f i r s t American p u b l i c parks had he s u r v i v e d . His f i r s t advocacy of p u b l i c parks was i n 1848 when he pointed to the success and heavy use of park ceme- t e r i e s . Park cemeteries were forerunners of the p u b l i c parks i n America, and f o r twenty years or more, provided the only p u b l i c open space that could be used by the p o p u l a t i o n to walk i n and a t t a i n that d e s i r e d peacefulness. In 1831, Dr. L. Biglow designed a " n a t u r a l " Reptonian type landscape at the Mount Auburn Cemetery, i n Boston. I t was immediately s u c c e s s f u l as a place to go w a l k i n g , and other New England c i t i e s soon e s t a b l i s h e d t h e i r own landscaped cemeteries. In the summer of 1848, 30,000 people came to look, admire and be emotionally s t i r r e d by the Auburn Cemetery. As i n England, there were i n i t i a l d i f f i c u l t i e s due to the l a c k of r e s p o n s i b l e a u t h o r i t i e s to set up and maintain p u b l i c parks . Downing and W i l l i a m C u l l e n Bryant, the e d i t o r of the New York Evening Post, were among the f i r s t to suggest a need f o r a park i n New York C i t y . In the October, 1848, i s s u e of the H o r t i c u l t u r i s t (of which he was the e d i t o r ) Downing wrote a piece c a l l e d "A Talk about P u b l i c Parks and Gardens". A f t e r h i s v i s i t to England i n 1850, he used the London Parks as an example of the type of open space f o r which Americans should s t r i v e . I t was to be another decade a f t e r Downing's death however, before t h i s need was a c t u a l i z e d . Andrew Jackson Downing's work and w r i t i n g s were to provide the foundations f o r the o p p o r t u n i t i e s and work of men l i k e F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted, Calvert Vaux, Charles E l i o t and many others. His acceptance and advocacy of the E n g l i s h s t y l e of landscaping r a t h e r than the C o n t i n e n t a l s t y l e , was one of the strongest f a c t o r s which has i n f l u e n c e d park design i n North America -70- over the l a s t century. F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted and C e n t r a l Park The man who i s r e f e r r e d to as the f a t h e r of landscape a r c h i t e c t u r e , and who was perhaps the person most r e s p o n s i b l e f o r the form of the urban park today i s F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted. He was born i n 1822 i n r u r a l America and died i n 1903 at the age of 81. He l i v e d during an extremely important p e r i o d of development i n the United States. He was to see the disappearance of the f r o n t i e r and the s h i f t from r u r a l to urban l i v i n g . I t was the era of i n d u s t r i a l i s m and of the r a i l r o a d . The r a i l w a y s had t h e i r beginnings around 1826, and by 1869, they spanned the North American continent. These profound changes r e q u i r e d people of that time to r e t h i n k t h e i r values and t h e i r approach to l i f e . F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted was a man who was able to keep abreast w i t h the d i r e c t i o n of American S o c i e t y , maintain an openness to new i d e a s , and develop the a b i l i t y to t h i n k about the environ- ment of the f u t u r e . I t was Olmsted's quick r e a c t i o n and p r e d i c t i o n of change that produced a b e t t e r environment f o r the people of h i s time, and f o r the people of generations to come. Olmsted grew up i n r u r a l Connecticut and at a very e a r l y age developed a love of the countryside. A f t e r he had s t u d i e d a r c h i t e c t u r a l science and engineering at Yale he took up farming on Staten I s l a n d , but was not s u c c e s s f u l . He t r a v e l l e d i n Europe i n 1850, and i t was at t h i s time that he saw Birkenhead Park i n England. In 1852-53 Olmsted t r a v e l l e d on horseback through the south and southwestern S t a t e s , and i n 1856 he t r a v e l l e d through- out I t a l y . Before Olmsted began h i s career as a landscape a r c h i t e c t then, he had seen many landscapes, both n a t u r a l and designed. - 7 1 - Olmsted's e a r l y a s s o c i a t i o n and love of r u r a l landscapes seemed to be the strongest f a c t o r i n h i s eventual advocacy of the r u r a l landscape i n the c i t y . He b e l i e v e d that the " s o c i a l v a l u e s " of the r u r a l l i f e would help to develop a democratic and c u l t u r a l urban environment. 4 For Olmsted, the i d e a l urban environment was to be a s y n t h e s i s of landscape and c i t y s c a p e . He became f a m i l i a r w i t h the work of Andrew Jackson Downing and C a l v e r t Vaux both of whom were advocating the garden a r t of England rather than the f o r m a l i z e d gardens of the Continent'. I t was t h i s type of gardening that s t r u c k a sympathetic note i n Olmsted, who because of h i s l i f e previous to that time, found t h i s a most welcome c o n f i r m a t i o n of h i s own propen- s i t i e s . Thus developed Olmsted's w e l l thought out p h i l o s o p h i e s on the a r t of the i n f o r m a l landscape and i t s p o s s i b i l i t i e s and advantages i n the c i t y . In the United S t a t e s , the beginning of the park movement can be traced to C e n t r a l Park. P r i o r to i t s c r e a t i o n there were no urban parks i n American which had been designed s p e c i f i c a l l y f o r the p u b l i c . Olmsted b e l i e v e d that the d e c i s i o n to create such a park was not a d i r e c t i n f l u e n c e from Europe, but was a " u n i v e r s a l phenomena". " I t i s now evident that the movement was not taken up i n a country from any other, however, i t may have been i n f l u e n c e d or a c c e l e r a t e d . I t d i d not run l i k e a f a s h i o n . I t would seem r a t h e r to have been a common spontaneous movement of that s o r t which we conveniently r e f e r to as Genius of C i v i l i z a t i o n . " 5 Although the idea of p r o v i d i n g open space f o r a c i t y ' s population had been r e a l i z e d simultaneously i n many European c o u n t r i e s f o r a century, and was expressed i n the opening of r o y a l s t a t e s and the transformation of l o c a l f o r t i f i c a t i o n s , the idea of c r e a t i n g a landscape "de nouveaux" f o r -72- the purposes of a p u b l i c park, d i d "run l i k e a f a s h i o n " , and that f a s h i o n began i n England. When Birkenhead Park was a tremendous success other B r i t i s h c i t i e s created t h e i r own p u b l i c parks; the French incorporated the E n g l i s h s t y l e p u b l i c park i n t o the o v e r a l l design f o r the redevelopment of P a r i s ; and the c a t a l y s t f o r the very r a p i d American park movement was a l s o the B r i t i s h p u b l i c parks. The two strongest advocates of a p u b l i c park f o r New York were Andrew Jackson Downing and W i l l i a m C u l l e n Bryant, both of whom had t r a v e l l e d to England and pointed to the E n g l i s h p u b l i c parks as an example to f o l l o w . In 1811 the Commissioners of S t r e e t s and Roads submitted a plan f o r Manhatten I s l a n d i n the f a m i l i a r g r i d - i r o n f a s h i o n . Although the p l a n b o l d l y provided f o r a c i t y of f a r greater s i z e than e x i s t e d , i t only provided seven squares and a parade ground as open space because "few spaces were now a v a i l a b l e and the land cost was so great."6 The fabulous opportunity f o r a r i v e r s i d e park was a l s o missed. There were a number of pleasure gar- dens i n New York C i t y , but g r a d u a l l y these were replaced by b u i l d i n g s and by 1855 there were none l e f t . Greenwood Cemetery;was the only place where the people could enjoy the pleasure of f o l i a g e and lawns and i t was estimated that 60,000 people v i s i t e d the cemetery i n a year at that time, many to en- joy the " r u r a l " atmosphere. New York, l i k e any other c i t y of i t s s i z e was a l s o s u f f e r i n g from overcrowding, n o i s e , and a t o t a l l y man made v i s u a l en- vironment. The workers of New York, l i k e those of the northern i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s i n England, needed a place of peace, t r a n q u i l i t y , v i s u a l greenery, and space f o r p h y s i c a l e x e r c i s e . In the e a r l y 1850's New York C i t y b e n e f i t t e d from a group of strong c i v i c leaders who were i n f l u e n c e d by W i l l i a m C u l l e n Bryant's e d i t o r i a l s , and -73- began to acquire land f o r C e n t r a l Park i n 1853.. In May of 1856, the C i t y Council of New York gave the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r i t s establishment and manage- ment to a Board c a l l e d the "Commissioners of C e n t r a l Park". F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted was h i r e d as the park superintendent i n 1857. The commissioners a d v e r t i s e d f o r plans f o r the park. C a l v e r t Vaux, who had worked w i t h Downing t a l k e d Olmsted i n t o c o l l a b o r a t i n g w i t h him on a design, and they were awarded f i r s t p r i z e f o r t h e i r "Greensward" plan which included a comprehensive r e - port e x p l a i n i n g t h e i r reason f o r every design f e a t u r e . They p r e d i c t e d a huge p o p u l a t i o n growth f o r New York C i t y as the j u s t i f i c a t i o n f o r a huge c e n t r a l parkland on Manhatten I s l a n d . Olmsted l a t e r , wrote many books and manuscripts on h i s park and landscape philosophy and how i t was so very important i n developing a good s o c i a l theory i n the U.S. He recognized the f a c t that the farm was no longer the nucleus of American l i f e , and that "the c i t y would shape the modes of thought and b a s i c values of a l l f u t u r e Americans".'' He reasoned that unless the c i t i e s were e n l i g h t e n i n g and u p l i f t i n g they would not be t r u l y democratic. Because of h i s e a r l i e r t i e s w i t h the c o u n t r y s i d e , Olmsted b e l i e v e d that to be able to "escape" to a r u r a l landscape w i t h i n the c i t y , would a f f o r d p e a c e f u l "^recreation and would be conducive to a temperate, good natured, and healthy s t a t e of mind. A park as a place of "escape" became the primary j u s t i f i c a t i o n f o r most parks i n the eastern United S t a t e s , and the b a s i c design f o r these parks was c a r r i e d a l l over the continent - even to places where the t h r e a t of "overwhelming u r b a n i t y " was many years down the road. This idea was p a r t l y as a r e s u l t of c o n d i t i o n s i n New York at the time, but a l s o as a r e s u l t of the E n g l i s h northern i n d u s t r i a l c i t y experience. I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g that the " e s c a p i s t theme" was so very d i f f e r e n t from what was happening i n P a r i s at that time, where Haussmann and Alphand were c r e a t i n g -74- landscaped parks as an extension of the c i t y . The d i f f e r e n t ideas of what i s "urbanism" to the French and to the English-Americans c e r t a i n l y surfaces i n the d i s c u s s i o n of open spaces. Olmsted's importance as a landscape a r c h i t e c t and c i t y planner r e s t e d as much on h i s s o c i a l thought as on h i s t e c h n i c a l and a d m i n i s t r a t i v e a b i l i t y . In h i s report on C e n t r a l Park, as w e l l as those that were to f o l l o w i n d i f f e r e n t c i t i e s , he s p e l l e d out the needs of the people f o r the years ahead. His theory of urban design was g e n e r a l l y acceptable to the p o l i t i c a l d e c i s i o n makers of h i s day and understood by the p u b l i c as w e l l . The r e s u l t was that the ideas and i n f l u e n c e of F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted are t o - day, seen on many landscapes i n the United States and Canada. He was the s i n g l e most important f o r c e i n the development of landscape a r c h i t e c t u r e as a p r o f e s s i o n and i n the d i r e c t i o n of the p u b l i c park movement i n the United States and Canada. The C e n t r a l Park Commissioner's design c o n d i t i o n s f o r the 770 acre s i t e were very s p e c i f i c . To be i n c l u d e d were: four or more crossings of the park; a main m a l l ; a parade ground of up to 40 a c r e s ; three p l a y - grounds of up to ten acres; s i t e s f o r an e x h i b i t i o n h a l l , a f o u n t a i n and a prospect-tower; and p r o v i s i o n f o r a s k a t i n g r i n k . Olmsted and Vaux were s u c c e s s f u l i n u n o b t r u s i v e l y i n c o r p o r a t i n g these features i n t o a plan which was r e a l l y a r u r a l landscape - a strong contrast w i t h the r e c t i l i n e a r frame of the park and the monotanous s t r e e t s around i t . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 1 and 2). The park s i t e was extremely v a r i e d , w i t h u n d e r l y i n g gneiss rock outcropping i n many p l a c e s , and w i t h marshy areas i n others. Olmsted and Vaux i n the s t y l e of Downing, used these v a r i a t i o n s i n the landscape to - 7 5 - create a s e t t i n g of romantic v i s t a s and r u r a l p e r s p e c t i v e s - a s t y l e that was to be followed i n many c i t i e s across the U.S. In t h e i r report they men- tioned the d e s i r e to provide a place f o r r u r a l r e l a x a t i o n f o r the poorer people of New York w h i l e at the same time p r e s e r v i n g the n a t u r a l contours of Manhatten I s l a n d . 8 Shaggy border t r e e s were placed around the park to prevent a person i n the park from seeing the adjacent b u i l d i n g s . In time of course, w i t h the event of skyscrapers, t h i s became impossible but i n the o r i g i n a l p l a n they were to provide a sense of enclosure i n the woods. The border p l a n t i n g a l s o acted as a sound b u f f e r to the noises of the c i t y . The r e q u i r e d features such as the main m a l l were not the main features of the park, but subservient to the general character of the design. The a r c h i t e c t u r a l accompaniments to the m a l l were minimized at the entrance. Olmsted set aside a p a r t i c u l a r area i n the park, the eastern s i d e , which accommodated b u i l d i n g s such as a music h a l l , palm house, and a conservatory overlooking the proposed flower garden.9 This area, which a l s o contained the m a l l , was the only area that contained "formal elements" - a l l e l s e was an essay i n E n g l i s h landscaping. Perhaps the most i n n o v a t i v e and ingenious feature of C e n t r a l Park that was to have widespread i m p l i c a t i o n s on f u t u r e landscape design was the c i r c u l a t i o n p a t t e r n which separated four types of movement and t r a f f i c . (See I l l u s t r a t i o n 2) Both men had seen Birkenhead Park and had undoubtedly been i n f l u e n c e d by Paxton's s o l u t i o n of separating pedestrians and c a r r i a g e ways, but they took t h i s p r i n c i p l e one step f u r t h e r . They provided com- p l e t e l y separate c i r c u l a t i o n systems f o r c a r r i a g e s , horsemen, p e d e s t r i a n s , and ordinary s t r e e t t r a f f i c c r o s s i n g from one s i d e of the park to another. A l l t h i s was done at v a r y i n g l e v e l s to f i t the contours of the land. The value of t h i s i n n o v a t i o n d i d not only l i e i n greater s a f e t y to the pedestrians -76- and other t r a f f i c , but a l s o i n the freedom from d i s t r a c t i o n and the greater r e l a x a t i o n o f f e r e d to the people who used the park. Another element of the Park that should be mentioned here i s the i n c l u s i o n of playgrounds. Although i t seems that Olmsted and Vaux both considered C e n t r a l Park as a place of p a s s i v e r e c r e a t i o n and enjoyment and as a place of "escape" from the c i t y , they d i d i n c o r p o r a t e an area f o r organized games - an idea that was not yet popular i n England. Paxton's playgrounds i n Birkenhead Park must have been the i n f l u e n c e because Olmsted and Vaux i n t h e i r reports d i d not s t r e s s at any time, a great need of p l a y - grounds of any k i n d . Work on the Park began i n the summer of 1851 and continued under t h e i r , s u p e r v i s i o n u n t i l 1878, when Olmsted was dismissed. Both Olmsted and Vaux resigned a number of times because of p o l i t i c a l i n t e r f e r e n c e , but were persuaded to r e t u r n i n each case. The Park was c o n s t a n t l y threatened by en- croachments, but the presence of Olmsted, Vaux and a few powerful c i t i z e n s prevented t h i s from happening. I t i s understandable that many c i t i e s were not able to prevent such encroachments without a few very i n f l u e n t i a l i n - d i v i d u a l s w i t h a w e l l thought out park philosophy. The Far Reaching E f f e c t s of C e n t r a l Park The e f f e c t s of C e n t r a l Park i n New York were enormous, both l o c a l l y , and n a t i o n a l l y . The p u b l i c - the poor as w e l l as the r i c h - loved the park. This was evident from the beginning, when over four m i l l i o n v i s i t o r s used i t i n 1863, seven and a h a l f m i l l i o n i n 1865, and eleven m i l l i o n i n 1871. The Park a l s o made New York a t t r a c t i v e to v i s i t o r s and t h e r e f o r e increased business f o r the c i t y . I t was reported that the investment had r a i s e d r e a l estate values i n i t s v i c i n i t y s u f f i c i e n t to r e t u r n increased taxes to the c i t y i n excess of the a c t u a l cost of the Park. The Park i s recorded as having a good e f f e c t on the p u b l i c h e a l t h . One doctor maintained, "Where I formerly ordered p a t i e n t s of a c e r t a i n c l a s s to give up t h e i r business a l t o g e t h e r and go out of town, I now o f t e n advise simply moderation, and p r e s c r i b e a r i d e i n the Park before going to t h e i r o f f i c e s , and again i n a d r i v e w i t h t h e i r f a m i l i e s before dinner."10 In those years, i t was perhaps d i f f i c u l t to determine the p o s i t i v e e f f e c t that C e n t r a l Park had on the mental and p h y s i c a l w e l l being of many of the poor people who l i v e d i n the c i t y but i t was undoubtably tremendous. C e n t r a l Park was probably an i n c e n t i v e f o r the growing p o p u l a r i t y of winter s p o r t s . Skating was an immediate success when the park opened. Saturday band concerts were i n s t i t u t e d i n 1859, and h e l d weekly i n the summer months. A l l these a c t i v i t i e s began to happen even before the park was f i n i s h e d i n the l a t e 1870"s. When the C i v i l War came the Park Commissioners persuaded the municipal government to continue w i t h the work. Olmsted was i n Washington during that time working f o r the Red Cross and l a t e r went to C a l i f o r n i a but returned r e g u l a r l y to New York to c o l l a b o r a t e w i t h Vaux. The e f f e c t that t h i s landscaped park had on the r e s t of the n a t i o n was a l s o very s i g n i f i c a n t . I t was completed j u s t a f t e r the C i v i l War, when many c i t i e s were going through a dramatic growth and r e j u v e n a t i o n . N a t u r a l l y , every c i t y wanted a c e n t r a l park. While C e n t r a l Park i n some cases i n f l u e n c e d c i t i e s to merely acquire land somewhere i n the c i t y f o r a park, i t a l s o i n - fluenced some c i t i e s i n developing parks according to a u n i f i e d design, so -78- that today, these c i t i e s not only have breathing space, but a work of landscape a r t . One of the e a r l i e s t commissions that Olmsted and Vaux d i d a f t e r C e n t r a l Park was Prospect Park i n Brooklyn i n 1866. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 3) I t was one of the great urban open spaces and the d r i v e through i t seemed that the designers' dream of seeming to be completely i n the country was r e a l i z e d . Again t a l l border t r e e s were used to block the view and noise of the c i t y and there were grand v i s t a s down the Great Meadow i n the park. In 1871 Olmsted and Vaux d i d p r e l i m i n a r y sketches f o r the S c h u y l k i l l R i v e r Park i n P h i l a d e l p h i a which was to become the l a r g e s t urban park i n America. These 3,500 acres were l a t e r to be named Fairmount Park and became the b a s i s of what l a t e r developed i n t o a parkway that connected w i t h the centre of the c i t y . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 4) By 1872 by mutual consent Olmsted and Vaux separated a f t e r a suc- c e s s f u l career together. Olmsted continued w i t h h i s own f i r m and was r e s - ponsible f o r many parks i n "most of the important m u n i c i p a l i t i e s of the country."11 The l i s t of accomplishments a c c r e d i t e d to Olmsted and h i s f i r m i s lengthy. I t i n c l u d e s : In the East - Prospect Park, Brooklyn 1965 - 88 Fairmount Park, P h i l a d e l p h i a 1871 South Park, Albany 1868 B e l l e I s l a n d , D e t r o i t 1882 - 83 Mount Royal Park, Montreal 1875 - 1881 South Park, Chicago 1871 Rockwood Park, Saint John 1889 Other c i t i e s i n the East - Boston, H a r t f o r d and numerous others i n Mass. B u f f a l o , Pough Keepsie and Rochester i n New York Newark, Providence, Baltimore C a p i t a l Grounds i n Washington -79- Niagara State Park i n New York In the South - Montomery, A t l a n t a , L o u i s v i l l e Kansas C i t y , C i n c i n n a t i K n o x v i l l e , N a s h v i l l e , Richmond In the West - Golden Gate Park, San Francisco Oakland Cemetary U n i v e r s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a , Berkeley 1866 Stanford U n i v e r s i t y Yosemite b i g t r e e r e s e r v a t i o n A l l these parks were done i n Olmsted's c h a r a c t e r i s t i c sweeping landscape s t y l e that incorporated the n a t u r a l features of the s i t e , a n d a l l of these r e f l e c t e d h i s " e s c a p i s t " theory about the f u n c t i o n of c i t y parks. His s t y l e became somewhat more formal i n h i s l a t e r years and i n 1892 he helped Daniel Burnham w i t h the s i t e s e l e c t i o n f o r the World's Columbian E x p o s i t i o n i n Chicago, which w i l l be discussed i n the next chapter. From 1863 to 1866 Olmsted went to C a l i f o r n i a to do a p r e l i m i n a r y design f o r Golden Gate Park. As was the case w i t h C e n t r a l Park,Olmsted triumphed over a s i t e that had d e f i c i e n c i e s i n s o i l and environment. His s e n s i t i v e c i r c u l a t i o n p a t t e r n prevented frequent b l a s t s of sand over the dunes and the barren environment. The design was completed a decade l a t e r by W i l l i a m Hammond H a l l , a former apprentice of Olmsted's, who worked i n the Olmsted t r a d i t i o n i n many western c i t i e s . While Olmsted was t h e r e , he em- barked on three other p r o j e c t s ; the Oakland cemetary, a plan f o r the Univer- s i t y of C a l i f o r n i a at Berkeley, and a survey of the Yosemite b i g t r e e r e s - e r v a t i o n . In the l a t e r stages of h i s career, he went back to C a l i f o r n i a ( i n a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h a Boston a r c h i t e c t u r a l firm) and prepared the design f o r Stanford U n i v e r s i t y i n Palo A l t o only 35 miles from Berkeley (1886). -80- The plan and a r c h i t e c t u r e i s more formal than that at Berkeley and r e f l e c t s the c u l t u r a l background of the r e g i o n , o r i g i n a l l y s e t t l e d by Spanish m i s s i o n - a r i e s . Olmsted was r e s p o n s i b l e f o r the master p l a n , and t h i s plan respected the r e l a t i o n s h i p of the campus to the community, yet gave i t a d i g n i f i e d approach appropriate to a major u n i v e r s i t y . Another element of the American c i t y that F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted became i n v o l v e d i n was the design of the suburb. The suburb was a l o g i c a l extension of Olmsted's park philosophy of attempting to combine country l i f e and c i t y c u l t u r e . In 1869 Olmsted and Vaux designed R i v e r s i d e near the Des P l a i n e s River j u s t west of Chicago. This 10,000 person suburb was the f i r s t designed U.S. bedroom community. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n s 5 and 6). George Tobey saw that R i v e r s i d e , "represents the culmination of romantic i d e a l i s m begun i n 18th century England and t r a n s p l a n t e d i n t o North American idiom w i t h 19th century t e c h n o l o g i c a l achievements superimposed."12 The suburb provided the urban worker w i t h a place i n the country remote enough that he .could r a i s e h i s f a m i l y i n s e m i r u r a l surroundings. Olmsted saw the suburb as a step beyond the p r o v i s i o n of parks, " the most a t t r a c t i v e , the most r e f i n e d and most soundly wholesome forms of domestic l i f e and the best a p p l i c a t i o n of the a r t s of c i v i l i z a t i o n to which mankind has yet a t t a i n e d . " ^ The Development of the Park System Perhaps the greatest c o n t r i b u t i o n of the United States towards the development of the 19th century park movement and the planning of towns i s the concept of a park system. T r a d i t i o n a l l y a park system i s a s e r i e s of urban parks and r e c r e a t i o n grounds that are l i n k e d i n the c i t y by a boulevard or a parkway. A boulevard i s u s u a l l y broad and s t r a i g h t , intended to be bordered by houses behind trees or hedges. A parkway i s u s u a l l y an i n f o r m a l -81- elongated park-type area v a r y i n g from 200 to 500 feet i n width, w i t h p l a n t i n g , and when p o s s i b l e f o l l o w i n g the n a t u r a l contours of the s i t e . The parkways, of course, were o r i g i n a l l y designed f o r pedestrians and c a r r i a g e s and one must imagine ourselves back a century i n time i n order to understand how the parkways were intended to f u n c t i o n . As C e n t r a l Park became the standard against which a l l other l a n d - scaped parks were to be judged, so the Boston green b e l t s , also designed by Olmsted and Charles E l i o t h i s a s s o c i a t e , became the standard f o r judging park systems. Olmsted and Vaux i n t h e i r reports f o r C e n t r a l Park and Prospect Park expressed the .point, "that the parks were only part of a mutually supple- mentary s e r i e s of parks and r e c r e a t i o n grounds widely dispersed throughout the m e t r o p o l i t a n area, and l i n k e d together by a system of connecting parkways of a w i d t h , c a p a c i t y , and scenic q u a l i t y of which there were then no examples i n t h i s c o u n t r y . " i ^ In the l a t e 1870's Boston d i d not have a major park except the Boston Common d a t i n g to 1634. L a t e r , the P u b l i c Garden was acquired. In 1877 Olmsted suggested the c r e a t i o n of a park out of the lowland s a l t marshes of the Back Bay. The Boston Park Commission, which was s t a r t e d i n 1875, approved of Olmsted's suggestions and by 1881 had made the a p p l i c a b l e pur- chases. Olmsted used as h i s base, the Charles and Muddy Rivers.. The Muddy River was an i n s i g n i f i c a n t stream that went v i r t u a l l y unnoticed u n t i l Olmsted made i t the p r i n c i p l e feature of h i s Fens Park and the spine of h i s r e l a t e d parks and parkways ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 7). August Heckscher w r i t e s about Olmsted, -82- "Olmsted's genius can be seen i n the way he handled the Fen area. The C i t y had planned a f l o o d c o n t r o l and r e s e r v o i r system f o r the u n s i g h t l y and ordorous mouth of the Muddy R i v e r , which, seeping i n a wide d e l t a i n t o the Charles had bothered the r e s i d e n t s of the newly created Back Bay. Olmsted met the p r a c t i c a l requirements posed by floods and sewage, and at the same time created a d e l i g h t f u l park. Sewage was d i v e r t e d ; the mud f l a t s depressed by grading to a p o i n t j u s t below low t i d e , w h i l e a high rim. of e n c i r c l i n g land provided a storage area f o r f l o o d waters. A t i d e gate permitted a normal ebb and flow."15 Other parts of the greenbelt such as Jamaica Pond, Olmsted Park, the Arboretum and F r a n k l i n Park were a l s o designed and developed w i t h s i m i l a r imagination. F r a n k l i n Park, the l a r g e s t park of the Boston green b e l t system was p r i m a r i l y , designed as a n a t u r a l landscape, park. Years l a t e r a g o l f course was introduced i l l u s t r a t i n g how e a s i l y the Olmsted n a t u r a l landscape could be adapted. There was one long formal promenade i n the northwest s e c t i o n of the park c a l l e d the "Greeting" which, l i k e the M a l l i n C e n t r a l Park, was intended as a meeting place and promenade f o r l o c a l c i t i z e n s . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 8) I l l u s t r a t i o n 9 shows how the Boston park system was rooted i n the c e n t r a l c i t y at the Boston Common,and continued i n an arc anchored by F r a n k l i n Park i n the southwest. A decade a f t e r the Boston Parkway was begun by Olmsted, one of h i s apprentices and f u t u r e p a r t n e r s , Charles E l i o t c a r r i e d out many of the designs, adding h i s own c r e a t i v e ideas. E l i o t , another important eastern park pioneer was i n s t r u m e n t a l i n e s t a b l i s h i n g a Board of Trustees capable of a c q u i r i n g and h o l d i n g f o r the b e n e f i t of the p u b l i c , b e a u t i f u l and h i s t o r i c a l places i n Boston and Massachussetts. One of the f i r s t c i t i e s to f o l l o w the lead of Boston was Kansas -83- C i t y which, i n 1893 had the Texan George K e s s l e r begin work on a park system f o r the c i t y . K e s s l e r was a gardener f o r C e n t r a l Park so was w e l l acquainted w i t h the Olmsted landscape p r i n c i p l e s . While he appreciated the need to c o r r e c t and supplement the e v i l s of a crowded c i t y , K e s s l e r f e l t that the mid-west c i t y of Kansas had other needs. His people wanted p u b l i c squares, l o c a l parks and anything to p l a y up the urban p e r s p e c t i v e . K e s s l e r ' s suc- cess was i n combining the c i t y ' s n a t u r a l endowments w i t h an a r t i f i c i a l s t r u c t u r e to make the c i t y more urbane and b e a u t i f u l . A l a r g e r o u t l y i n g park was needed to anchor and complete the system, so i n 1895, Colonel Thomas Swope, a p h i l a n t h r o p i c c i t i z e n , donated 1,134 acres of pasture and woodland nine miles from the c i t y ' s centre. W i t h i n a decade the c i t y had grown to the edge of the park. I l l u s t r a t i o n s ten and eleven show how the system has had the c a p a c i t y to keep pace w i t h the growing c i t y , m a i n t a i n i n g i t s b a s i c o u t l i n e w h i l e s e r v i n g a broader area than was conceived by i t s o r i g i n a t o r s . Today Kansas C i t y has a very strong sense of c i v i c adornment. Another contemporary, and a person f o r whom Olmsted had a great deal of r e s p e c t , was H.W.S. Cleveland, the person r e s p o n s i b l e f o r the Minneapolis Park System. Cleveland had worked on Chicago's South Park before he moved to the West - "the reason f o r h i s move being the f a c t that he was upset at the way that Western c i t i e s were being s e t t l e d w i t h the r e p e t i t i o n of the grid."-'-^ He f e l t i t d i d not enhance the character of the land and s a c r i f i c e d chances f o r the c i t i e s to form t h e i r own character. In the e a r l y 1880's when Cleve- land was h i r e d he was to discover that Minneapolis not only had the M i s s i s s - . i p p i R i v e r , but a l s o a s e r i e s of lakes on the c i t y ' s o u t s k i r t s . Cleveland -84- used the n a t u r a l features to fashion a s e r i e s of parks, and although the park system has been added to over the years, i t has l o s t v i r t u a l l y none of i t s former c h a r a c t e r . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 12). I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g that i n a 1971 study of the Minneapolis parkways, i t was confirmed that the parkway had met the four goals Cleveland had set out i n the e a r l y 1880's. I t was found t h a t : i t provides a v i s u a l r e l i e f from the man made c i t y ; i t defines the edges that give form to the c i t y and gives an i d e n t i t y to the neighbour- hoods; i t serves as a drainage system; and i t s u p p l i e s an important r e c - r e a t i o n a l function.17 Both Cleveland and K e s s l e r went on to design other p u b l i c parks i n the West and Mid West and were an important part of the p u b l i c park move- ment i n the United States. Yet another apprentice of Olmsted's W i l l i a m Hammond H a l l went to the west coast of the U.S. and c a r r i e d on the Olmsted t r a d i t i o n there. The West Coast Experience San Francisco i s a c i t y which has r e l i e d very h e a v i l y on the under- l y i n g topographic c o n d i t i o n s to help form i t s open space system. Telegraph H i l l i n the centre of the c i t y dominates the downtown area and the p o r t . I t s summit i s crowned by a small park. Today, through the i n g e n u i t y of a few dedicated people,the major open spaces of the area, P r e s i d o , Lake Merced and Golden Gate Park are l i n e d by boulevards to create a very f i n e open space system along the P a c i f i c Ocean. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 13). In the c i t y of San F r a n c i s c o , the l a y of the land combined w i t h the g r i d s t r e e t pattern,has the e f f e c t of c r e a t i n g views which are independent of any formal open space. A person can look down many s t r e e t s and see the -85- land and sea, a s i t u a t i o n very s i m i l a r to areas i n the C i t y of Vancouver. These view p o i n t s have become extremely important to the people of San Francisco and i n t h e i r minds, form part of an open space or "park system". Except f o r a small area i n the c i t y centre, b u i l d i n g has been kept to a t r a d i t i o n a l s m a l l s c a l e , so that one i s always confronted w i t h a view of the c i t y and i t s environs. The " s t r e e t ends" were threatened j u s t before the earthquake when D a n i e l Burnham d i d a. plan f o r San Francisco,proposing a m o d i f i c a t i o n of the g r i d , w i t h broad avenues and w i t h roads f o l l o w i n g the con- tours of the h i l l s . A f t e r the earthquake, when the people were faced w i t h a r e b u i l d i n g process, they chose to keep the g r i d , l a r g e l y f o r p r a c t i c a l and sentimental reasons. In 1890, the San Franciscans f e l t that they wanted a l a r g e park. The s i t e that Olmsted had e a r l i e r done the p r e l i m i n a r y plans f o r and ad- vocated as the major park, was chosen. The C i t y h i r e d W i l l i a m Hammond H a l l to do the design f o r the long narrow s t r e t c h of dunes reaching from D i v i d a - dero Street westward to the sea. Olmsted's i n f l u e n c e continued as H a l l ten- a c i o u s l y sought h i s advice and b l e s s i n g on the design. Because the sands were subject to constant s h i f t i n g w i t h the strong P a c i f i c winds, H a l l designed the park w i t h serpentine roads and planted grasses and p l a n t s that were brought down from the h i l l s and imported from abroad. F i n a l l y , H a l l had thousands of seedlings of cypress and pine planted to provide anchorage f o r f u r t h e r p l a n t i n g s . In 1890, Golden Gate Park came under the c o n t r o l of an e x t r a o r d i n a r y park superintendent named John McClaren. He presided over h i s domain f o r more than f i f t y years, f o r c e f u l l y guiding the park through many t h r e a t s of encroach- -86- ment and t h r e a t s to h i s idea of an i d e a l park. For example, McClaren hated " s t o o k i e s " - statues of would be famous f i g u r e s donated to the park - and ordered h i s gardeners to screen them from view w i t h n a t u r a l growth. Heckscher says of McClaren, "(He) was g i f t e d w i t h l o n g e v i t y and n a t u r a l a u t h o r i t y , that great park empires seemed to r e q u i r e f o r t h e i r development."18 Although Golden Gate was the p r i n c i p l e park, McClaren d i d not neglect the other green areas he was r e s p o n s i b l e f o r . He was aware of the b e n e f i t of a c q u i r i n g a h i l l t o p or a b i t of coast. Today, although the C i t y of San Francisco does not have any l a r g e parks downtown, i t does have magni- f i c e n t views and v i s t a s , w i t h a very l a r g e and w e l l connected park system j u s t a short distance away. Los Angeles, another c i t y determined by geography, has not been as s u c c e s s f u l i n a c q u i r i n g a comprehensive park system. I t never experienced the i n f l u e n c e of an Olmsted, an E l i o t , . o r a McClaren to shape a downtown park system, and w h i l e those men were reshaping older c i t i e s , Los Angeles was absorbing thousands of s e t t l e r s from a l l over the country. Because of the favourable c l i m a t e , the c r e a t i o n of downtown urban parks never r e c e i v e d the same p r i o r i t y as i n New York and Boston w i t h t h e i r crowded tenements and unpleasant l i v i n g c o n d i t i o n s . When the country-wide park movement was at i t s height during the l a s t h a l f of the 19th century, Los Angeles was s t i l l a settlement w i t h numerous uninhabited green spaces. I t was L.A. County r a t h e r than the C i t y that developed a park system i n l a t e r years. The parks were l o c a t e d i n o u t l y i n g canyons and mountains, and w h i l e the distance from the p o p u l a t i o n was greater than i n the East, t r a v e l time was based on the automobile r a t h e r than the s t r e e t c a r . The mountains and canyons were t h e r e f o r e r e l a t i v e l y a c c e s s i b l e provided that each c i t i z e n had an automobile. The C i t y of Los Angeles however, d i d not use the Eastern example of c r e a t i n g parks w i t h i n the C i t y area, and because there was no strong park t r a d i t i o n , freeways have r e c e n t l y encroached upon open spaces such as G r i f f i t h Park, E l y s i a n Park, H o l l e n b i c k Park, and V i c t o r y Park. A study done by Harland Bartholemew i n 1930, emphasized the C i t y ' s d e f i c i e n c y i n open and r e c r e a t i o n a l space,and recommended that 74,000 acres i n the Santa Monica Mountains be acquired. August Heckscher p o i n t s out that the advice has not been taken s e r i o u s l y and there has been no concern f o r the n a t u r a l appearance of the land i n developing i t , or,to the need f o r open space.19 ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 14) The C i t y of Los Angeles seems to have experienced the "pioneer s p i r i t gone rampant". The idea of the sacredness of p r i v a t e property and development has been very strong i n Southern C a l i f o r n i a due to the h i s t o r i c a l circumstance of i t being the l a s t American f r o n t i e r . The i n d i f f e r e n c e to the c r e a t i o n of downtown p u b l i c space i s very understandable when one looks at the development of the c i t y . Los Angeles, as mentioned e a r l i e r , lacked the f o r e s i g h t or i n f l u e n c e of people of the s t a t u r e of Olmsted and h i s followers,who d i d much towards the development of a park pholosophy i n c i t i e s a l l across the U.S. S e a t t l e , i n the P a c i f i c Northwest, a l s o has a n a t u r a l s i t e which has had a strong i n f l u e n c e on the development of the c i t y . I t l i e s between two bodies of water, Puget Sound and Lake Washington. Within the c i t y l i e s -88- Green Lake, Lake Union and the Duwanish R i v e r . There are ridges or elongated h i l l s , t h a t i n general, run p a r a l l e l to the shorelines,and which provide r e f e r - ence p o i n t s to people i n the c i t y as w e l l as v i s u a l r e l i e f . These features together, give the c i t y a tremendous sense of openness, and o f f e r n a t u r a l views of e i t h e r the h i l l s or the water. In 1903 the park commissioners requested a plan f o r a park system, from the landscape f i r m of the Olmsted Brothers of Boston. 2 ^ The Olmsteds found that there were a number of parks at t h i s time, but they were widely s c a t t e r e d i n a c i t y undergoing r a p i d growth. They prepared a p l a n that i n - volved the expansion of e x i s t i n g parks, which were l i n k e d by parkways i n t o an organized open space system t h a t r e f l e c t e d the e x i s t i n g contours and the views of water and mountains. In 1909 the park commissioners reported that the Olmsted plan had been adopted and that a "bond i s s u e of one m i l l i o n d o l l a r s had been passed almost unanimously" and that "wonderful progress" had been made toward the . development ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 15). The 1903 plan recommended a major new park and the extension of the system by means of lakeshore d r i v e s and connected parkways u n t i l i t touched many of the c i t y ' s n a t u r a l f e a t u r e s . Seward Park at B a i l e y ' s Peninsula formed the major park w i t h i n the system,and green space connected i t to the lake at the U n i v e r s i t y of Washington, the Arboretum,and Washington Park. I t continues along I n t e r l a k e n Drive,where at the h i l l t o p Volunteer Park, there i s a marvelous view of Puget Sound. Another branch f o l l o w s a proposed parkway to Ravenna Park. -89- Although S e a t t l e ' s park system i s broken by incompatible land uses and other gaps, i t does r e p r e s e n t ^ good example of how parks and the n a t u r a l t e r r a i n can compliment each other. L i k e other U.S. c i t i e s i n the l a t e 1880's, S e a t t l e i s an example of a c i t y which commissioned a plan to help d i r e c t and p r i o r i z e a park system w i t h i n the r a p i d l y growing c i t y . I t seems from the evidence, that park development i n the West was an extension of the p r i n c i p l e s of park development i n the E a s t , i f _ there was a design plan or person to help keep s i g h t of these p r i n c i p l e s . Because the c i t i e s i n the West were not experiencing the negative e f f e c t s of crowded l i v i n g c o n d i t i o n s , the existence of p u b l i c parks was not a p r i o r i t y i n c i t i e s l i k e Los Angeles. In the c i t i e s l i k e San Francisco and S e a t t l e that d i d bene- f i t from the f o r e s i g h t of some i n d i v i d u a l s , the important features of topo- graphy were handled i n a very complimentary way. A c t i v e Recreation The Olmsted s t y l e of landscape was w e l l s u i t e d to passive and semi- a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n . . In C e n t r a l Park, playground areas were set aside at the time of i t s design, but these were minor features of the general plan and were designed i n such a way as not to i n t e r f e r e w i t h the o v e r a l l concept. The landscape a r c h i t e c t s of the l a t e 19th century and w e l l i n t o the 20th century, discouraged the design of r e c r e a t i o n areas f o r planned e x e r c i s e and competition, and, as a r e s u l t , many l a r g e parks d i d not c o n t a i n much i n the way of a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n f a c i l i t i e s such as b a l l grounds or t e n n i s c o u r t s . " I t was i n t o t h i s environment of passive r e c r e a t i o n that the demand f o r a c t i v e play began to usurp c e r t a i n areas of these l a r g e r landscaped parks."^1 -90- In the 1880's, beginning w i t h sand courts f o r c h i l d r e n and outdoor gymnasiums i n the Charlesbank area of Boston, the "playground movement f o r c h i l d r e n " grew i n t o a " r e c r e a t i o n movement" which served a l l age groups and which had a profound e f f e c t on the e n t i r e pioneer conception of parks and t h e i r r e c r e a t i o n f u n c t i o n . I t changed the uses of parts or the whole of e x i s t i n g parks - a s i t u a t i o n that met w i t h some o p p o s i t i o n from people of the Olmstedian school and from some of the governing park a u t h o r i t i e s . Some of these people lacked the breadth of understanding to accept the new trend of r e c r e a t i o n and to i n c o r p o r a t e these demands i n t o s u i t a b l e designs. On t h e . other hand, the playground leaders that were o f t e n h i r e d had no deep under- standing of landscape a r c h i t e c t u r e or of the a r t of park design. What occurred i n many c i t i e s , w a s that between 1890 and 1920, there was a d i s r u p t i o n of p r e v i o u s l y w e l l designed parks by the i n t r u s i o n of a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n f a c i l i - t i e s improperly placed and improperly designed. There were a l s o some very barren playgrounds created i n some neighbourhoods. The end of the 19th century saw the development of " r e c r e a t i o n departments" which looked a f t e r " r e c r e a t i o n areas",as opposed to "park departments" which looked a f t e r parks defined as n a t u r a l i z e d passive r e t r e a t s . As a r e s u l t , the parks r e c e i v e d much more design a t t e n t i o n than the r e c r e a t i o n areas - a s i t u a t i o n that l a s t e d i n most p a r t s of the country u n t i l a f t e r World War I I . George Tobey quotes from Waugh's H i s t o r y of Garden A r t : "In order to complete the d i s c u s s i o n of American park design, a few observations on l a t e r work may be added. Two new conditons began to change the' park problem soon a f t e r Olmsted's death. The f i r s t of these was the f u r t h e r growth and i n d u s t r i a l i z a t i o n of American c i t i e s , r e q u i r i n g -91- 1 neighbourhood playgrounds' of a new type. The second was the i n t r o d u c t i o n of a new means of passenger t r a n s i t at the o u t s e t , the e l e c t r i c tram.and l a t e r the much more i n f l u e n t i a l automobile."22 Because playgrounds were not seen as being compatible w i t h the scenic park i d e a , they developed t h e i r own form which became a new development on the American landscape. The trend began to d i c t a t e the c r e a t i o n of small playgrounds s c a t t e r e d throughout the r e s i d e n t i a l s e c t i o n s of the c i t y , w i t h the l a r g e r p e r i p h e r a l parks made p o s s i b l e by the improvement of t r a n s p o r t . The f i r s t f r u i t s of t h i s movement were seen i n the Boston Park system under Charles E l i o t , and w i t h i n a short p e r i o d , Minneapolis and Chicago a l s o created playgrounds. Some of the energy i n the park movement was d i v e r t e d i n t o the demand f o r s t a t e and n a t i o n a l parks. There developed a movement at the turn of the century to preserve considerable areas of n a t i v e landscape f o r purposes of h e a l t h , education and r e c r e a t i o n . These parks, then, l i k e the urban parks f i f t e e n years p r e v i o u s l y , were a statement of the nationwide acceptance of the importance of n a t u r a l scenery to the general pleasure and welfare of the people. The Development of P u b l i c Parks i n Canada E l s i e McFarland, i n her t h e s i s A H i s t o r i c a l A n a l y s i s of the Develop- ment of P u b l i c Recreation i n Canadian Communities, s t a t e s that l o c a l govern- ment evolved slowly i n Canada,partly due to s c a t t e r e d population,but p r i m a r i l y due to the f a c t that the war of independence i n the c o l o n i e s to the south had caused those i n a u t h o r i t y to view too much l o c a l autonomy w i t h suspicion.23 -92- As a r e s u l t , w i t h the simple exception of Saint John, New Brunswick, which received i t s charter i n 1785, the c e n t r a l government, through m a g i s t r a t e s , made a l l l o c a l d e c i s i o n s w e l l i n t o the 19th century. In 1867 therefore,when Ontario, Quebec, Nova S c o t i a and New Brunswick formed the Dominion of Canada, many c i t i e s had very l i t t l e experience i n the r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s of l o c a l government. Despite t h i s f a c t , and probably because, of the beginnings of a park movement i n the U.S., there was nevertheless an e a r l y advocacy of open space f o r p u b l i c use. Canadians learned q u i c k l y that the best way of o b t a i n i n g these parks was through the Dominion government or by s o l i c i t i n g a p r i v a t e g i f t . Examples of l o c a l p u b l i c park a c q u i s i t i o n p r i o r to 1867 are few. The H a l i f a x Common, Canada's counterpart to the Boston Common i n the U.S., was granted to p u b l i c o f f i c e r s i n the town of H a l i f a x i n 1763 by the Lieutenant Governor of Nova S c o t i a . I t was o r i g i n a l l y used as a pasturage f o r the l o c a l c i t i z e n s , and as an e x e r c i s e ground f o r the m i l i t i a . Today the Common has been reduced to l e s s than one h a l f i t s o r i g i n a l s i z e and has been developed i n t o a major r e c r e a t i o n area in. the heart of downtown H a l i f a x . From i t s beginnings, the Common, u n l i k e many other parks of i t s time, was used f o r a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n . In Toronto, a committee on P u b l i c Walks and Gardens was e s t a b l i s h e d i n 1851. One of t h e i r e a r l i e s t r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s was the r e t e n t i o n and develop- ment of the 287 acre G a r r i s o n reserve which was leased to the c i t y by the m i l i t a r y authories i n 1848. I t i s i n t e r e s t i n g that the lease was c o n d i t i o n a l upon the c i t y • having land "plowed, sowed w i t h grass, enclosed with a fence, planted w i t h t r e e s , and l a i d out i n pleasure grounds and an ornamental park f o r - 9 3 - the purposes of the pleasure and r e c r e a t i o n of the i n h a b i t a n t s of Toronto."^A Games could not be played without permission which was a very d i f f e r e n t case from the H a l i f a x Common. In 1860, a bylaw entrusted the care of a l l the c i t y ' s p u b l i c squares, parks and grounds to the Committee on P u b l i c Walks and Gardens. The C i t y of Montreal had a s i m i l a r a t t i t u d e when i n 1865, a C i t y by-law was passed designating the boundaries of t h i r t e e n open spaces i n the c i t y and " s e v e r e l y r e g u l a t i n g " t h e i r use to exclude a l l games, and any walking or l y i n g on the grass."^^ Montreal's i n t e r e s t i n p u b l i c open space o r i g i n a t e d i n 1821 when the Governor Lord Dalhousie donated a piece of land to the C i t y f o r a p u b l i c square. The Place d'Armes Square which was used as a p u b l i c open space s i n c e the French regime,was purchased by the C i t y i n 1840. F i n a l l y by Confederation i n 1867., the C i t y was c o n s i d e r i n g the pur- chase of Mount Royal f o r development i n t o a major park. I t i s probably safe to assume t h a t i n the case of Montreal, the t r a d i t i o n of not p l a y i n g games and not walking on the grass i n a p u b l i c open space i s of French o r i g i n . The m a j o r i t y of Torontonians, on the other hand, came from a B r i t i s h background and were f a m i l i a r w i t h the p r a c t i c e of walking on grass. There i s evidence from the l e t t e r s of George L a i n g , a landscape gardener working i n the Hamilton region from 1856 to 1867, that there had been landscape gardening i n Ontario and that i t was of the " E n g l i s h landscape s t y l e " of Brown and Repton. Later, Laing was to use. the "Gardenesque" s t y l e of Pennethorne and Paxton, h i s contemporaries i n England.^6 Laing himself worked f o r wealthy B r i t i s h immigrants i n and around Hamilton and Ancaster, so i t was l i k e l y that the B r i t i s h landscape t r a d i t i o n was a l s o evident around Toronto. Since at t h i s time i n England, games were not encouraged i n parks -94- and i n the p r e - C e n t r a l Park America, games were unheard of i n parks, i t i s l o g i c a l that game p l a y i n g i n p u b l i c parks was not encouraged i n Toronto e i t h e r . There are numerous parks i n Canada that were acquired by grant or lease a f t e r 1867. In many cases, the s e n i o r government leased or granted the use of parks to the l o c a l governments. Much of the land had o r i g i n a l l y been r e t a i n e d f o r defence purposes and i t i s l i k e l y that the l e s s e n i n g f r i c t i o n w i t h the U.S. was a major reason f o r i t s t r a n s f e r to peaceful purposes. The C i t y of H a l i f a x was founded i n 1749 as a defence outpost to guard the B r i t i s h Empire's northern c o l o n i a l i n t e r e s t s . 2 7 S h o r t l y a f t e r the s e t t l e r s a r r i v e d , they a p p l i e d to the Governor of Nova S c o t i a f o r 235 acres on the penninsula of H a l i f a x to serve as a common. Because t h i s p u b l i c open space was f i r s t conceived as a common or "land e s t a b l i s h e d f o r communal use by the peasants." and not as a p u b l i c park, i t has experienced many encroach- ments over the years - a l l i n the name of "worthy causes". In 1837, the Nova S c o t i a H o r t i c u l t u r a l S o c i e t y was granted acreage to "improve the c u l t u r e of the best kinds of f r u i t , the most u s e f u l vegetable, shrubs, t r e e s , and choice f l o w e r s . " 2 8 This s e c t i o n of the, Common was l a t e r c a l l e d the P u b l i c Garden. The Common's f i r s t superintendent, Richard Power, had experience i n e s t a t e gardening i n England and i n the U.S. He designed gardens that today bear the i n f l u e n c e of B r i t i s h landscape design i n that they represent the idea of passive r e c r e a t i o n . A c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n p u r s u i t s appeared i n 1863 when Canada's f i r s t covered i c e r i n k opened i n the Common and again i n 1876 when the f i r s t p u b l i c tennis courts were e s t a b l i s h e d i n the P u b l i c Garden. In 1879 the E x h i b i t i o n B u i l d i n g was b u i l t which not only served as a place to hold e x h i b i t i o n s , but a l s o as a f a c i l i t y f o r i c e s k a t i n g i n the w i n t e r and as a s m a l l a r t g a l l e r y . In 1886 the Wanderers' Amateur A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n became e s t a b l i s h e d on what i s now the Wanderer's Ground on the Common., The-members p a r t i c i p a t e d i n a c t i v i t i e s l i k e f o o t b a l l , hockey, c r i c k e t , b a s e b a l l , t r a c k and f i e l d , c u r l i n g , snowshoeing and b i c y c l i n g . 2 9 Horse r a c i n g appeared i n the North Common i n the mid 1850's. Despite the a c t i v i t i e s of groups such as the S o c i e t y f o r the Pre- s e r v a t i o n of the Common, encroachments have reduced the area of the Common from the o r i g i n a l 235 acres to l e s s than 63 acres. These encroachments have been i n the form of: a cemetery e s t a b l i s h e d i n 1833; the C i t y H o s p i t a l i n 1859; the Poor Asylum f o r the B l i n d i n 1868; the Convent of the Sacred Heart i n 1886; Dalhousie College i n 1887; and an assortment of schools, a broadcasting studio, and other h o s p i t a l s . Today the Common i s sectioned i n t o f i v e parts;, the North Common, the C e n t r a l Common and the Wanderer's ground which .provide space f o r the major s p o r t i n g f a c i l i t i e s and which promote a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n ; and the P u b l i c Gardens and V i c t o r i a Park, which remain as passive park areas c a t e r i n g to l e i s u r e p u r s u i t s of. s t r o l l i n g , l i s t e n i n g to concerts and viewing f l o r a l d i s p l a y s . The h i s t o r i c a l development of the Common a l s o i l l u s t r a t e s s e v e r a l d i s t i n c t l y d i f f e r e n t park designs. The Common experienced a blending of uses and ideas over the years and t h i s i s probably due to the f a c t that i t was not termed a " p u b l i c park" from the beginning. I t was not designed at one time by a landscape a r c h i t e c t , -96- but evolved n a t u r a l l y , c r e a t i n g a m u l t i - f u n c t i o n a l landscape. The easy i n - t r o d u c t i o n of a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n i n t o the Common i s a l s o probably due to the f a c t that a Common was o r i g i n a l l y perceived as an acreage f o r the "general needs" of the i n h a b i t a n t s of H a l i f a x . In the c i t y of London, Ontario, V i c t o r i a Park was formerly a d r i l l ground f o r a B r i t i s h g a r r i s o n . The 1,429 acre area was deeded to the c i t y by the Federal Government i n 1869 f o r the purpose of a p u b l i c park. Stanley Park i n Vancouver was a l s o a m i l i t a r y reserve p r i o r to 1886, when the Dominion Government leased the "Coal Penninsula" to the C i t y , which had j u s t incorporated. The f a c t that the c i t y founders i n a c i t y of 10,000>gave the matter of a c q u i r i n g a p u b l i c park p r i o r i t y at t h e i r f i r s t c o u n c i l meeting, was q u i t e i n c r e d i b l e . Although the c i t y of Saint John which was the f i r s t c i t y i n Canada to r e c e i v e i t s c h a r t e r (1785), i t was not given r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r i t s f i r s t p u b l i c park. Rockwood Park, a 1,700 acre s i t e i n downtown Saint John,had i t s beginnings when the Canadian Government authorized the Saint John H o r t i - c u l t u r a l Society to e s t a b l i s h gardens, a park and a pleasure r e s o r t , and to acquire the necessary land by g i f t , purchase or l e a s e . The Society was.even given the r i g h t to e x p r o p r i a t e lands not acquired by agreement.30 C a l v e r t Vaux had e a r l i e r prepared the o r i g i n a l plans f o r the development of Rockwood Park and submitted them i n 1889. The o r i g i n a l Vaux plan was l a i d out f o r 320 a c r e s , but by 1914 the park had become 500 acres .and i n 1936 a l a r g e grant increased i t to i t s present s i z e . The plan i n c l u d e d walks and d r i v e s , h o r t i - c u l t u r e gardens, z o o l o g i c a l gardens, and a c h i l d r e n ' s playground. Much of the plan was developed and the Olmsted s t y l e landscape i s evident i n part of -97- Rockwood Park today. S t . Helen's I s l a n d at the entrance of Montreal was w e l l s i t u a t e d f o r f o r t i f i c a t i o n against attack,and was the s i t e of m i l i t a r y i n s t a l l a t i o n s during the French regime and l a t e r a f t e r the B r i t i s h Conquest. I t was s o l d to the B r i t i s h Government i n 1818 from the Longeuil family,and was then i n - t e n s e l y f o r t i f i e d as a m i l i t a r y base. F o l l o w i n g Confederation, St. Helen's I s l a n d was ceded to the Dominion and taken over by the m i l i t i a . The govern- ment granted the c i t y use of the s i t e as a p u b l i c park from 1874 and i n 1905 the c i t y purchased the i s l a n d f o r $200,000. St. Helen's was e v e n t u a l l y to become the s i t e f o r Expo 67. Mount Royal Park i n Montreal was the f i r s t Canadian park to be designed by a landscape a r c h i t e c t - and i t r e c e i v e d the b e s t , F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted. In the 1860's the mountain top was removed from what was then the c i t y and t h e r e f o r e some doubted the value of the mountain as a park. In 1860, Mr. John Redpath had o f f e r e d to donate twelve acres of h i s land on top of the mountain to the c i t y f o r a p u b l i c park, but the o f f e r was not accepted by the C o u n c i l . When Captain A.A. Stevenson became an alderman i n 1861, he managed to change the a t t i t u d e of the other c o u n c i l members. John Redpath's property was f i n a l l y purchased i n 1875 at a cost to the c i t y of more than $83,000; Redpath's i n i t i a l o f f e r was withdrawn a f t e r being hurt by the Council's o r i g i n a l "snub".-*! In 1874 a board of Commissioners who were appointed from w i t h i n the C o u n c i l , took r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r the management and s u p e r v i s i o n of the park and approached Olmsted to prepare a p l a n . Olmsted was r e l u c t a n t to do the design because he was not sure he could do j u s t i c e to the s i t e without having -98- l i v e d i n the area.32 He was c o n s t a n t l y f r u s t r a t e d by the l a c k of s t a b l e p o l i c y on the part of the C o u n c i l and the Commission, and when h i s plans were f i n a l l y submitted i n 1877 he f e l t that h i s work had been f u t i l e . He was very concerned about f u t u r e encroachments i n the park. Olmsted urged the Council to r e t a i n the wilderness and s e c l u s i o n of the park that had f i r s t made i t a t t r a c t i v e , and urged i t s development and management as a work of a r t . This v i s i o n would preclude l o c a t i n g roads, walks, b u i l d i n g s and other man-made s t r u c t u r e s s o l e l y on economic .considera- t i o n s and would r e q u i r e a p o l i c y of development that would b e n e f i t the pro- perty as a whole. He begged the C i t y to r e s i s t the temptation of p u t t i n g i n flower beds, f l o w e r i n g shrubs and " f l o r a l embroidery" that would r u i n the t o t a l l y n a t u r a l environment. Some people i n Montreal d i d l i s t e n to Olmsted's message. A group of women l e d by Lady Hingston, w i f e o f . a former mayor, formed the Parks P r o t e c t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n i n 1896 to prevent the Montreal Street Railway from l a y i n g two miles of double t r a c k across Mount Royal Park. The l a d i e s ob- tained the signatures of 20,000 women on a p e t i t i o n to C i t y Council and on the day the p e t i t i o n was presented, the company g r a c e f u l l y withdrew i t s r e - quest. This was the f i r s t c i t i z e n ' s group i n Canada to become i n v o l v e d i n the p r e s e r v a t i o n of parkland. The A s s o c i a t i o n i n years to come was to act many times f o r the park and was i n s t r u m e n t a l i n preventing encroachments such as the e r e c t i o n of a lookout restaurant. In 1902 the a s s o c i a t i o n be- came the Parks and Playground A s s o c i a t i o n of Montreal. Despite eventual encroachments l i k e the u n s i g h t l y t e l e v i s i o n towers, the "present Mount Royal Park i s a t r i b u t e to more than seventy years of e f f o r t s by a c i t i z e n s ' group -99- that i n s i s t e d on a stake i n the future of Montreal. The Park stands as evidence, too, of those C i t y Councils that sought, but seldom heeded, expert advice."^3 Apart from the Dominion Government g r a n t i n g leases on land f o r pub- l i c parks there was a .nee'd f o r l e g i s l a t i o n enabling the general development of m u n i c i p a l parks. In 1883 the Province of Ontario passed the f i r s t Can- adian l e g i s l a t i o n which empowered l o c a l governments to appoint boards of park management to be composed of the mayor and s i x other non-members of C o u n c i l . These parks Boards were permitted to purchase land f o r park purposes not to exceed 1,000 acres i n the case of c i t i e s , and 500 acres i n the case of towns. The C i t y of Toronto d i d not adopt the Parks Act when i t became law i n 1883 because the Council d i d not want to share i t s power w i t h another a u t h o r i t y . Some of the f i r s t c i t i e s to adopt the P u b l i c Parks Act and es- t a b l i s h a Board of Parks Management were; Port Arthur i n 1888, Ottawa i n 1893, Kitchener i n 1894, Hamilton i n 1900 and B r a n t f o r d i n 1901. Manitoba passed s i m i l a r l e g i s l a t i o n i n 1892. Calgary obtained an amendment to i t s c h a r t e r i n 1910, which provided f o r the establishment of a Parks Board " c o n s i s t i n g of a mayor, the c i t y commissioners and s i x other members to be appointed by C o u n c i l . " ^ ^ The Parks Board i n Calgary was short l i v e d how- ever! In 1913 a f u r t h e r amendment to the Calgary C i t y Charter repealed the power of the Parks Board and r e i n s t a t e d i t w i t h the C o u n c i l and C i t y Commis- s i o n e r s . The C i t y of Vancouver operated i t s parks w i t h a Park Committee made up of three members of C o u n c i l w i t h three c i t i z e n s , from 1888 u n t i l 1890, when a change i n the C i t y Charter permitted an e l e c t e d Board of Park Commissioners. Vancouver was the f i r s t c i t y i n Canada to have an e l e c t e d board. -100- At the end of the 19th Century s e v e r a l c i t i e s i n Canada had es- t a b l i s h e d Parks Boards while many others continued w i t h committees of c o u n c i l . These two p r i n c i p l e s of operation demonstrate the e s s e n t i a l d i f - ference between the B r i t i s h p r i n c i p l e of municipal government which v e s t s a l l power w i t h i n an e l e c t e d c o u n c i l , and the U.S. p r i n c i p l e of the separation of power, which permits removal from the j u r i s d i c t i o n of c o u n c i l c e r t a i n func- t i o n s of government.35 i n the case of Toronto, the C i t y C o u n c i l j e a l o u s l y guarded i t s power against the e f f o r t s of v a r i o u s groups to o b t a i n a separate parks commission. Vancouver, on the other hand,went a step f u r t h e r than p l a c i n g parks i n the hands of an appointed board, by p l a c i n g i t i n the hands of an e l e c t e d one. This was one of numerous U.S. i n f l u e n c e s that Vancouver was experiencing at the time because of i t s geographical l o c a t i o n and t i e s to the West Coast. Summary At the end of the 19th century one could look back and see that out of C e n t r a l Park and the beginnings of Park Systems came four r e l a t e d pheno- mena: 1) the precedent design s t y l e f o r the U.S. was based on nature- o r i e n t e d parks; 2) the landscape a r c h i t e c t u r e school provided many park a u t h o r i t y l e a d e r s ; 3) there occurred a s p l i t i n r e c r e a t i o n a u t h o r i t i e s i n t o passive r e c r e a t i o n e n t h u s i a s t s and a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n advocates; and f i n a l l y , 4) the development of park systems c o n s t i t u t e d the f i r s t comprehensive de- s i g n plans i n c i t y planning and caused c i v i c leaders to begin t h i n k i n g about t h e i r c i t y comprehensively. From the preceeding chapter, i t i s evident that an argument can be made that these t r a d i t i o n s are a c t u a l l y rooted i n a r e v o l u - t i o n that occurred i n B r i t a i n before the development of C e n t r a l Park. The park designs and ideas that were being p r a c t i c e d i n the l a s t h a l f of the 19th Century i n the U.S. were unquestionably i n f l u e n c e d by the chain of events that -101- occurred i n B r i t a i n during the f i r s t h a l f of the 19th century. F o r t u n a t e l y , there were Americans such as Downing and Olmsted, who accepted these t r a d i - t i o n s , but who modified some of the p r i n c i p l e s to accommodate the American c u l t u r e , c l i m a t e , and needs of the people. In the West, because there wasn't the urgent need to designate park area to a l l e v i a t e the e v i l s of the l a r g e c i t y , the c r e a t i o n of park space was not a top p r i o r i t y w i t h some c i t i e s . Those which experienced the e a r l y presence of a landscape a r c h i t e c t and a committed park superintendent seemed to have acquired b e t t e r preserved, and b e t t e r i n t e g r a t e d park systems. The incremental park a c q u i s i t i o n approach that Los Angeles took f o r example, has r e s u l t e d i n a p o o r l y defined park system that i s sadly d e f i c i e n t i n open space. In Canada, there were very few landscape a r c h i t e c t - d e s i g n e d parks. Most e a r l y parks were a grant or lease from the Dominion government, and i n l o c a l c o u n c i l s , i n a few cases, a parks board would determine the r e q u i r e - ments f o r the park. Design i n f l u e n c e s were l a r g e l y American, and i n the case of Vancouver the i n f l u e n c e tended to be West Coast American. The f a c t that Canada lagged behind the U.S. i n park design produced an i n t e r e s t i n g s i t u a t i o n when the C i t y B e a u t i f u l and C i v i c A r t movements developed i n the U.S. and B r i t a i n . Canada's tardy involvement r e s u l t e d i n the s h e l v i n g of numerous "grandiose" c i v i c and park plans because of the commencement of World War I and the s h i f t i n g of -energies elsewhere. The r e - s u l t was the absence of very formal park landscapes, p a r t i c u l a r l y i n Western Canada and s p e c i f i c a l l y , i n Vancouver. -102- FOOTNOTES 1 George Tobey, A H i s t o r y of Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e : the R e l a t i o n s h i p of People to Environment (New York: American E l s e v i e r Pub., Co., Inc. , 1973) , p. 154. 2 I b i d . , p. 158. 3 I b i d . , p. 156. ^ F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted, Landscape i n t o Cityscape: F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted's Plans f o r a Greater New York C i t y (New York: C o r n e l l U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1968), p. 30. 5 F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted, Forty Years of Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e : C e n t r a l Park (Cambridge Mass: The MIT Press, 1973), p. 14. 6 Charles E. D o e l l and Gerald B. F i t z g e r a l d , A B r i e f H i s t o r y of Parks and Recreation i n the United States (Chicago: A t h l e t i c I n s t i t u t e , 1954) , p. 26. 7 Olmsted, Landscape i n t o Cityscape, p. 28. ^ George F. Chadwick, The Park and the Town (New York: F r e d r i c k A. Praeger Pub., 1966), p. 184. 9 In a c t u a l i t y , the conservatory was not b u i l t and the flower garden was replaced by a b a s i n f o r a f o u n t a i n , l a t e r used f o r model boats. 1 0 Olmsted, Forty Years, p. 172. 1 1 D o e l l and F i t z g e r a l d , p. 32. 1 2 Tobey, p. 165. 1 3 r Olmsted, Landscape i n t o Cityscape, p. 42. 1 4 - Chadwick, p. 191. -103- 15 August Heckscher, Open Space: The L i f e of American C i t i e s (New York: Harper and Row Pub., 1977), pp. 196 - 197. 1 6 I b i d . , p. 126. 1 7 I b i d . , p. 208. 1 8 I b i d . , p. 83. 19- Heckscher, p. 87. 2 0 The Olmsted brothers of Boston were F r e d r i c k Law's sons John and F r e d r i c k J r . The Olmsted brothers report, i s p r i n t e d i n "Parks, P l a y - grounds, and Boulevards of S e a t t l e , Washington" issued by the Board of Park Commissioners i n 1902. Heckscher, Open Space, p. 76. 2 1 • D o e l l and F i t z g e r a l d , p. 36. . 2 2 I b i d . , p. 38. 2 ^ E l s i e Marie McFarland, "A H i s t o r i c a l A n a l y s i s of the Development of P u b l i c Recreation i n Canadian Communities" (Ph.D. d i s s e r t a t i o n , U n i v e r s i t y of I l l i n o i s , 1969), p. 16. 24 I b i d . , p. 18. 2 ^ I b i d . , p. 18, c i t i n g Montreal, Bylaws of the C i t y of Montreal Compiled to date February, 1902 (Montreal: Eusebe Sencal and Co., 1902), pp. 23 - 24, Chapter XXIV. 2 6 Paul Grimwood, Owen S c o t t , and M a r i l y n Warson, "Roots 5, George Laing — Landscape Gardener, Hamilton, Canada West", Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e i n Canada 4 No. 1 ( A p r i l 1978), 78): 3. 2 7 S. Markam and C. Edginton, "The Common of H a l i f a x : Canada's f i r s t Park" Recreation Canada (February 1979), 79).: 12. , 2 8 I b i d . , p. 13. -104- 29 I b i d . , p. 14. 3 0 . McFarland, p. 22. 3 1 I b i d . , p. 24. 32<• I b i d . , p. 25, c i t i n g F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted, Mount Royal (New York: G.P. Putnam's Sons, 1881), p. 8. 33 I b i d . , p. 28. 3 4 I b i d . , p. 31. 3 5 I b i d . , p. 37, -\Oio- -i| f if O SO IQO iso yoo ft. 50UJHEAST PORTION, <€ N f R A L P A R K , NC W YOBK - l « 7 0 , AD. \ULU£>TPAT\OM 2 C E N T A L B M ^ - , S O U T H E A S T t^t^TIOAM file://-/Oio- - l o 8 - F A I R I A I O O T P A R K P H I L A D E L P H I A lU_U«2>TRA-ri ON 4 C H A o v M t C t C P. 2 0 3 . I L L U 3 1 I ? A T , O M tS G e s t e ^ A U P L A N O F T S V U C P S U X S , C H I C A G O B N O M S T C O / W D V A u y 1 g ^ 9 . X C L U C O G P - 2 6 1 -Ho— \ L 4 _ U S T K A T l O f s l k D E T A V U Or P L A N Oe U v v > e R S l ^ & y OLM^TEO A N D VALLX, i66^ . ToBey P- IG7 file:///L4_USTKATlOfsl - I I'Z-— -113- I L L x i S T R A T i o A J 9 F A R 4 C S Y S T E M - I t * - ACMOUC BLV > KAR$A$ CITY -1893 \ U - U S T R A T i o M l O K A m S A S . C l T ^ P A R K . S Y S T E M file:///U-USTRATioM - I I S - - I I G - -117- I L L U S T ^ T l O N 13 S A N F R A M O S C o B \ R < s v / S T E H , — n e — I L L U S T R A T I O N 14 L o s A M G f e L H - S F ^ R K S V ^ T ^ M - i n - -120- CHAPTER IV THE CITY BEAUTIFUL MOVEMENT I n t r o d u c t i o n The C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement which occurred i n the U.S. between about 1893 and 1910 sprang from the World's Columbia E x p o s i t i o n i n Chicago i n 1893. The E x p o s i t i o n , was i t s e l f l a r g e l y i n f l u e n c e d by the park and park system movement that was at that time, sweeping the country. The idea of "complete schemes of b e a u t i f i c a t i o n " was being implemented i n the form of park systems, that were i n some way an extension of the p a r t i c u l a r c i t y . Parks and park systems were t h e r e f o r e to assume an important r o l e i n the C i t y B e a u t i f u l movement, and i t i s of importance here, to see what form those parks took, and how they were developed during the " C i t y B e a u t i f u l " years. The C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement i n the United States As noted e a r l i e r , parks i n the l a t e 18th Century were seen as the "lungs" of the c i t y , and many people b e l i e v e that the success of the park movement i n the U.S. r e s t e d on an enthusiasm f o r a r u r a l way of l i f e . " l The urban park o f f e r e d the c i t y dweller a b i t of the country. U n t i l the Chicago World's Columbia E x p o s i t i o n , there were few formal elements i n parks. Olmsted's promenade i n C e n t r a l Park was the c l o s e s t t h i n g to f o r m a l i t y . Margaret Meek, i n her t h e s i s " C i t y B e a u t i f u l i n Canada" very a c c u r a t e l y ob- serves, "support f o r :the establishment of parks was not based so much on a d e s i r e f o r c i v i c b e a u t i f i c a t i o n as on the b e l i e f that they would c o n t r i b u t e to p u b l i c h e a l t h . " 2 This a t t i t u d e was to change f o l l o w i n g the E x p o s i t i o n . The World's Columbia E x p o s i t i o n was a c e l e b r a t i o n of the 400th anniversary of Columbus' d i s c o v e r of North America. I t was a t u r n i n g p o i n t -121- i n American h i s t o r y i n that i t l e d to a greater i n t e r e s t i n the planning of c i t i e s . A consultant s t e e r i n g committee was e s t a b l i s h e d which c o n s i s t e d of Daniel Burnham, John Root, Henry Codman, F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted and others. The Committee decided on a n e o c l a s s i c a l theme and complimentary ground p l a n . Olmsted was i n v o l v e d i n the s i t e s e l e c t i o n which was e v e n t u a l l y a waterway s i t e c a l l e d Jackson Park. The only n a t u r a l element i n a l l of the F a i r was the Wooded I s l a n d which was created at Olmsted's i n s i s t e n c e . Everything e l s e was extremely formal - a completely new concept i n America which had undoubtably been borrowed from Renaissance France. The pseudo-classic b u i l d i n g s f o r the F a i r i n c l u d i n g the Court of Honour, were coloured white presenting a contract to the greyness of the i n - d u s t r i a l c i t y . The b u i l d i n g s were set o f f by f o u n t a i n s , s c u l p t u r e , f l a g s , and water bodies. The F a i r was held from May to October 1893 and was a com- p l e t e success. I t had twenty m i l l i o n v i s i t o r s and r e c e i v e d e x c e l l e n t press. Afterwards every l a r g e c i t y w i t h any a s p i r a t i o n s began to plan i t s own C i t y B e a u t i f u l . Because of the improvements i n t r a v e l i n V i c t o r i a n times many Americans v i s i t e d P a r i s , a c i t y they looked on w i t h much admiration, and ^ —• even attended the Ecole des Beaux A r t s . The Ecole commanded a very important i n f l u e n c e on the American mind when the E x p o s i t i o n opened because many of the elements of design that i t emphasized could be seen there. "The Ecole s t r e s s e d u n i t y of composition and taught i t s students to view a b u i l d i n g i n terms of a s e r i e s of r e l a t i o n s h i p s . B u i l d i n g s were g e n e r a l l y c h a r a c t e r i z e d by two axes suggesting movement and a symmetrical layout of c l e a r l y defined -122- geometric spaces."-5 The term C i t y B e a u t i f u l has never been w e l l defined and a r c h i - t e c t u r a l and planning h i s t o r i a n s have never agreed p r e c i s e l y on i t s p r i n - c i p l e s . I t was a movement that was p r i m a r i l y concerned w i t h formalized b e a u t i f i c a t i o n schemes that were to r e f l e c t a new n a t i o n a l p r i d e of wealth, power and c u l t u r e . The C i t y B e a u t i f u l t h i n k e r s seemed to be most concerned w i t h three elements; s t r e e t s , c i v i c centres and parks and boulevards. They claimed to be concerned w i t h the u t i l i t y of t h e i r p l a n s , but i s was the a e s t h e t i c aspect that they were c l e a r l y i n t e r e s t e d i n , and wrote about. Parks and greenery were to play an important part i n c i t y b e a u t i f i c a t i o n . The e f f e c t s of the World's E x p o s i t i o n were immediate and f a r reaching. I t assured that the idea of C i t y B e a u t i f u l was accepted and many Americans began to t h i n k about t h e i r c i t i e s according to p r e - e s t a b l i s h e d plans. I t provided a concrete model which many c i t i e s followed. F i n a l l y , i t brought D a n i e l Burnham, a f u t u r e i n f l u e n t i a l a r c h i t e c t and planner, to the f o r e . One of Burnham's c o l l e g u e s , Charles M. Robinson, a w r i t e r and educator, was a l s o very i n f l u e n t i a l i n the C i t y B e a u t i f u l movement. People o f t e n looked to Robinson's w r i t i n g s , (Modern C i v i c A r t ) , and Burnham's plans to uncover the movement's design p r i n c i p l e s . 4 Between 1902 - 1917 they acted as planning a d v i s o r s to 30 c i t i e s producing improvement r e p o r t s , f o r B u f f a l o , D e t r o i t , Denver, Oakland, Los Angeles and Honolulu. Robinson, l i k e most designers of the p e r i o d , b e l i e v e d that the s t r e e t system and c i r c u l a t i o n p a t t e r n was the most important element. His reasons: they f a c i l i t a t e communication; they open v i s t a s ; and they present o p p o r t u n i t i e s -123- to create s t r e e t s and p u b l i c open spaces. He a l s o p r e f e r r e d s t r e e t s to converge on a f o c a l p o i n t such as p u b l i c b u i l d i n g s , a church, a r a i l w a y s t a t i o n , or a monument. Robinson was a l s o one of the f i r s t people to ad- vocate design standards f o r pavement, c o n t r o l of advertisements, l i g h t i n g , l e t t e r i n g and underground w i r i n g . The c i v i c centre, was seen as an important centre of c i v i c power, p u b l i c l i f e , and cooperation between l e v e l s of government. As at the E x p o s i t i o n , white was the colour advocated because i t s pureness stood i n contract to the grundginess of the b i g American c i t i e s . F i n a l l y , Robinson maintained that the l o c a t i o n of a c i v i c centre was important, p r e f e r a b l y on a h i l l , near water, a park or square, and i f at a l l p o s s i b l e next to a r a i l w a y s t a t i o n - the gateway to the c i t y ! With regard to parks, Robinson p r e f e r r e d the n a t u r a l landscape park w i t h connecting parkways; a n a t u r a l treatment f o r an entrance to a n a t u r a l park, and a formal treatment i n the case of a formal park. He emphasized the importance of small parks i n the c i t y e i t h e r i n the form of a p u b l i c square, a garden, or a playground. He saw the playground as a very important element of the c i t y f o r p u b l i c h e a l t h and i n t h i s case, beauty was to take a secondary r o l e to u t i l i t y . The World's E x p o s i t i o n was a t u r n i n g point i n D a n i e l Burnham's career and changed the d i r e c t i o n of American a r c h i t e c t u r e . He went on to develop plans f o r Washington, San F r a n c i s c o , Chicago and M a n i l l a , ( I l l u s - t r a t i o n 1) P i e r r e Charles L'Enfant's 1791 Baroque plan f o r Washington, D.C. was to be reviewed and updated by the McMillan Commission i n 1902 of which Burnham was a member. The Commission looked to Europe f o r a r c h i t e c t u r a l models, -124- p a r t i c u l a r l y Rome and P a r i s . C o n t i n e n t a l precedents were again to be r e f l e c t e d on the American a r c h i t e c t u r a l landscape. Burnham a l s o gave s t r e e t patterns p r i o r i t y i n h i s plans. He used diagonal s t r e e t s , c i r c u m f e r a l s t r e e t s to avoid the business d i s t r i c t , as w e l l as boulevarded pleasure d r i v e s . His f i r s t plans f o r c i v i c centres were con- c e p t u a l i z e d l i k e the Court of Honour f o r the F a i r , and l a t e r he adapted these to the needs of t r a f f i c . His centres u s u a l l y included an a x i s and cross a x i s , as i n Washington. Burnham's b u i l d i n g s were monumental i n s c a l e , c l a s s i c a l i n design and of s i m i l a r h e i g h t , mass and treatment. He f e l t that gateways were p a r t i c u l a r l y important i n the c i t y . Burnham thought that p a r k ' systems were second only to s t r e e t s , and i n c l u d e d them i n a l l of h i s plans. He t a l k e d about a range of parks; the f o r e s t park, the l a r g e urban park, and s m a l l parks and playgrounds. Forest parks he saw as reserves conserving n a t u r a l resources, p r o v i d i n g r e l i e f from the c i t y , a t t r a c t i n g t o u r i s t s and i n c r e a s i n g land values. These parks were to be n a t u r a l w i t h only country roads. The l a r g e urban parks were to be the c i t y ' s lungs: to open up space and a i r and provide healthy r e c r e a t i o n a l o p p o r t u n i t i e s f o r urban r e s i d e n t s . F i n a l l y , small parks and playgrounds were to be d i s t r i b u t e d according to population d e n s i t y and were to c o n t a i n r e c - r e a t i o n f a c i l i t i e s f o r the l o c a l community. Burnham a l s o had a very i n n o v a t i v e i d e a to replace backyards w i t h a l i n e a r park system. A park such as t h i s would be safe f o r c h i l d r e n and would encourage walking.5 He wanted h i s boulevards to be l i n e d w i t h f i n e houses^with a p a r k - l i k e q u a l i t y i n c l u d i n g grass, t r e e s , shrubs, statues and f o u n t a i n s . -125- Both contemporary and modern w r i t e r s have charged that C i t y B e a u t i f u l plans were d e f i c i e n t i n s e v e r a l areas, s p e c i f i c a l l y i n housing and s o c i a l concerns. Evidence shows that the C i t y B e a u t i f u l planners were concerned w i t h the c i t y ' s p r a c t i c a l needs, but they d i d not tend to develop these concepts i n t h e i r plans as they d i d the a e s t h e t i c concepts. I t may have been assumed that the engineers possessed the e x p e r t i s e to c a r r y out these requirements.^ A f t e r 1910 i n the U.S. an i n t e r e s t developed i n what was then c a l l e d the C i t y E f f i c i e n t . The new keywords were " e f f i c i e n c y " and "economy". In C i t y E f f i c i e n t thought, the core elements of the C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement, s t r e e t s , c i v i c centres and parks, remained,but the p r a c t i c a l c o n s i d e r a t i o n s took on a much greater importance. Parks f o r example,began to be j u s t i f i e d s o l e l y on the grounds of r e c r e a t i o n , refreshment and increase i n property values. I t was s t i l l d e s i r a b l e to have a monumental c i v i c c e n t r e , but i t s l o c a t i o n was to depend on a c c e s s i b i l i t y , the p o s s i b l e need f o r future ex- pansion, and the assurance that business would not be hindered. The i d e a l s of the C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement were s t i l l expressed a f t e r 1910, p a r t i c u l a r l y i n j o u r n a l s , but the c r e a t i o n of beauty a f t e r , that time was o f t e n a matter of s e i z i n g an opportunity. While the ideas of park systems, parkways and boulevards were ad- vocated during the C i t y B e a u t i f u l movement, the form of the American l a n d - scape park was not changed to any great degree. People became more con- cerned about where the parks were l o c a t e d and how they blended i n t o the r e s t of the c i t y r a t h e r than t h e i r s p e c i f i c design. The renewal of very formal a r c h i t e c t u r e d i d not cause a r e t u r n to V e r s a i l l e - t y p e landscapes, but concentrated on l i n k i n g the n a t u r a l i s t i c parks by formal parkways and boulevards. -126- C l v l c A r t i n B r i t a i n In B r i t a i n during the 1890's, .the trend i n garden design began to swing more towards an a r c h i t e c t u r a l emphasis r a t h e r than a h o r t i c u l t u r a l emphasis. Elements such as a t e r r a c e or a geometrical garden i n a p u b l i c park,gradually,were r e i n f o r c e d by garden o r g a n i z a t i o n on formal l i n e s . This trend was undoubtably i n f l u e n c e d by the Chicago World's F a i r and Burnham's work i n America, the ideas of Camillo S i t t e i n Germany, and Haussmann's sweeping s c a l e i n P a r i s . , The E n g l i s h Park never became com- p l e t e l y f o r m a l , but at the turn of the century there d i d develop a tendency towards a more a x i a l and geometric o r g a n i z a t i o n . Abbey Park i n L e i c e s t e r which was designed by the f i r m of Barron and Son, i s an e x c e l l e n t example of the combination of a strong formal element w i t h the n a t u r a l i s t i c s t y l e de- r i v i n g from Repton. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 2) This f o r m a l i s t tendency i s very evident i n the work of Thomas H. Mawson, a B r i t i s h landscape a r c h i t e c t working i n England at the t u r n of the century. Mawson accepted the formal and i n f o r m a l i n the same design^and had no qualms about i n s t a l l i n g some very formal elements i n t o a n a t u r a l i s t i c environment. He was part of a group that began to work i n the B r i t i s h " C i v i c A r t " s t y l e that f l o u r i s h e d during the f i r s t two decades of the 20th century. Mawson defines C i v i c A r t as a r e v i v a l of the Greek i n t e r e s t i n the " c i t y - s t a t e " and an i n t e r e s t i n the c o l l e c t i v e view of c i v i c design r a t h e r than an i n d i v i d u a l one. He condemns the " l e v e l l e d formalism of the Ecole des Beaux A r t s of France which w i l l never f i n d a welcome on t h i s s i d e of the channel" s t a t i n g the importance of the " e l a s t i c i t y and s p e c i a l p r o v i s i o n s f o r each i n s t a n c e " i n a c i t y . 7 The most important element i n c i v i c design -127- to him, was the c e n t r a l i z a t i o n and convenient grouping of the town's muni- c i p a l and commercial a c t i v i t i e s . In other words, Mawson d i d not b e l i e v e i n superimposing an i n f l e x i b l e formal design on a c i t y , but i n c r e a t i n g a cen- t r a l i z e d core i n a c i t y where the design elements "complimented" the es- t a b l i s h e d character of the c i t y . Parks were to play a supporting r o l e i n the c i v i c centre and were not an end i n themselves. The f o r t e of Mawson's f i r m was park design. They began designing i n d i v i d u a l parks and l a t e r branched out to the replanning of whole towns and doing d e t a i l e d proposals f o r the redevelopment of c i t y centres — a l l i n the C i v i c A r t s t y l e . East Park at Wolverhampton was one of h i s e a r l y successes. In 1896 Mawson created a geometrical s t y l e park out of very d e r e l i c t l a n d , l a r g e l y cinder heaps and a flooded depression. He r e - introduced the p a v i l i o n , fountains and the t e r r a c e i n h i s parks which Paxton had p r e v i o u s l y used as a s o c i a l centre at the C r y s t a l Palace. One of the most r e p r e s e n t a t i v e works of Mawson's firm's mature s t y l e i s Stanley Park i n Blackpool. I t i s a good example of the "composite or informal-formal s t y l e . " ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 3). The 288 acre s i t e was chosen " f o r the purposes of a park and r e c r e a t i o n a l centre as an a d d i t i o n a l a t t r a c - t i o n f o r the r e s o r t and also as a shrewd piece of planning f o r the p e r i p h e r a l extension of the town." 8 The e a r l i e r p r i n c i p l e of recouping the o u t l a y on the park from the b u i l d i n g land on the perimeter was used,and the outcome was that the e n t i r e cost of the land and the l a y i n g out of the park was recovered from the s a l e of the b u i l d i n g p l o t s . Mawson's o b j e c t i v e was to create a design that was "the convenient and economic development of a l a r g e number of r e c r e a t i o n spaces that provided a t t r a c t i v e p l a y i n g f i e l d s set i n a great n a t u r a l reserve."9 -128- Blackpool's Stanley Park,:designed i n 1922, showed a new f u n c t i o n f o r a park. The park as a promenade had become a space almost e n t i r e l y c a t e r i n g f o r a c t i v e games and organized l e i s u r e . Passive r e c r e a t i o n was s t i l l accommodated but the park had ceased to be thought of f i r s t as an expressive landscape according to one designer's s t y l e . I t became a park whose landscape was created f o r p a r t i c u l a r uses to which any " s t y l e " was a p p l i e d afterwards. Mawson was extremely i n f l u e n t i a l i n England during t h i s time j u s t before the f i r s t World War, arousing i n t e r e s t i n the neglected spheres of landscape and c i v i c design. Chadwick s t a t e s that the establishment of the " f i r s t Chair of C i v i c Design at L i v e r p o o l U n i v e r s i t y by Lord Leverhulme was no doubt l a r g e l y due to the i n t e r e s t aroused i n him by Mawson's work and a l s o by Mawson's d i r e c t i n f l u e n c e . " - ^ Mawson r e g u l a r l y wrote a r t i c l e s i n The Town Planning Review published i n L i v e r p o o l , when P a t t r i c k Abercrombie was e d i t o r . In h i s book, C i v i c A r t : Studies i n Town P l a n n i n g , Parks, Boule- vards and Open Space published i n 1911, Mawson o u t l i n e d h i s theory of C i v i c A r t , and h i s p r a c t i c e of C i v i c A r t w i t h examples of p u b l i c parks and town gardens. As Burnham was the most sought a f t e r C i t y B e a u t i f u l p l a n n e r , i n the U.S. between 1893 - 1910, Mawson represented the E n g l i s h equivalent i n C i v i c A r t , although h i s i n f l u e n c e l a s t e d a good deal longer - w e l l i n t o the 1920's. In 1910 Mawson made a t r i p to the " c o l o n i e s " p i c k i n g up numerous jobs across Canada, and r e t u r n i n g to England to work on these c i v i c a r t schemes. He was engaged by the Vancouver Park. Board i n 1910 and produced a plan f o r Coal Harbour i n Stanley Park. His s o l u t i o n was unacceptable to many people i n the c i t y at that time, and that chain of events w i l l be discussed i n the next chapter. -129- Although Mawson was one of the most s u c c e s s f u l park and c i v i c designers i n England during the f i r s t quarter of the 20th century he was by no means the only "planning t h i n k e r " . The Carnegie Dunfermline Trust was founded i n 1903 by Andrew Carnegie who put up h a l f a m i l l i o n pounds and the g i f t of P i t t e n c r i e f f Park and Glen i n h i s n a t i v e town of Dunfermline, to b r i n g "the monotonous l i v e s of the t o i l i n g masses of Dunfermline more 11 sweetness and l i g h t . " The Trust requested Mawson and P a t r i c k Geddes, the pioneer b o t a n i s t , e c o l o g i s t , s o c i o l o g i s t and planner, to prepare plans f o r P i t t e n c r i e f f Park. The two plans prepared by these two men were s t r i k i n g l y d i f f e r e n t . Mawson's plan was very formal and a r c h i t e c t u r a l , r e s u l t i n g i n the s c a l e and monumentality of the b u i l d i n g s being too grandiose f o r a p r o v i n c i a l i n d u s t r i a l town and even l a r g e f o r a c a p i t a l c i t y . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 4) In many ways h i s plan had a f f i n i t i e s to the C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement and the Chicago F a i r . Geddes spent months wandering through Dunfermline t r y i n g to get a f e e l f o r the town. He published h i s proposals i n a report c a l l e d " C i t y Development: a study of Parks, Gardens and Culture - I n s t i t u t e s . " The t i t l e s r e f l e c t Geddes b e l i e f that parks and gardens are an e s s e n t i a l f a c - t o r i n the regeneration of the c i t y . His i n n o v a t i v e ideas on the f u n c t i o n of a park i n a town i s what makes Geddes' c o n t r i b u t i o n remarkable. He proposed to l i n k P i t t e n c r i e f f Park to a system of gardens and enclosed spaces, and c u l t u r a l b u i l d i n g S j t o the centre of town i t s e l f ^ a n d then beyond, v i a parkways to other p a r t s of the c i t y . His park design was f u l l of ideas that i n c l u d e d a z o o l o g i c a l garden, botanic garden, r e c r e a t i o n ground, and an open a i r museum. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 5) One of the most i n t e r e s t i n g d e t a i l s was'the complex of r e c r e a t i o n grounds arranged g e o m e t r i c a l l y w i t h formal gardens and a long -130- formal f o u n t a i n b a s i n to the south of the park. This was juxtaposed w i t h a l a r g e i r r e g u l a r rockery. Geddes' ideas were not expressed w e l l i n terms of a s l i c k set of plans, and he himself saw them as a general statement of ideas rather than a p r e c i s e set of proposals to be c a r r i e d out i n a p a r t i - c u l a r way. Geddes' c o n t r i b u t i o n to the park as an element of the c i t y was i n h i s ideas on the part that a park can p l a y i n a town,and how.it can make i t a b e t t e r p h y s i c a l and s o c i a l environment. U n f o r t u n a t e l y , Mawson's r a t h e r than Geddes' ideas were t r a n s m i t t e d to Canada i n the e a r l y part of the 20th century, r e s u l t i n g i n some C i t y Councils expressing the d e s i r e to i n v o l v e t h e i r c i t y i n the p r i n c i p l e s of C i v i c A r t . C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement i n Canada While the time between 1893 and 1910, i s the t r a d i t i o n a l C i t y B e a u t i f u l p e r i o d i n the United S t a t e s , the movement was somewhat slower coming to Canada. I t occurred between 1910 and 1913 when a e s t h e t i c s f i r s t played a major r o l e i n Canadian planning. These dates were c r u c i a l because by the time many of these C i t y B e a u t i f u l plans were implementable, the f i r s t World War was upon the n a t i o n , and many plans were not c a r r i e d out. The p u b l i c park movement was already w e l l grounded i n Canada between 1893 and 1910 - p r o v i d i n g a b a s i s upon which C i t y B e a u t i f u l t h i n k e r s were able to b u i l d i n l a t e r years. The preference i n the way of park design during t h i s p e r i o d was toward the t r a d i t i o n a l " r e s t f u l , p a s s i v e " park, w i t h the u l t i m a t e f u n c t i o n a l concern being that of p u b l i c h e a l t h . Several Canadian j o u r n a l s express thoughts about the f u t u r e . Before 1900, the Canadian A r c h i t e c t and B u i l d e r emphasized smaller parks, c e n t r a l squares and playgrounds. Between 1888 and 1901 there were s e v e r a l a r t i c l e s on parks i n the Canadian A r c h i t e c t http://how.it -131- and B u i l d e r , and from the v a r i e t y of parks described, i t i s evident that l o c a l a u t h o r i t i e s were aware of the concept of a park system and i t s range of open space. This j o u r n a l advocated an even d i s t r i b u t i o n of parks and playgrounds which were to have "lawn areas,, flower beds and l a r g e shade trees."12 Most Canadian c i t i e s had not yet h i r e d landscape a r c h i t e c t s or designers to l a y out t h e i r park systems, so the development of the l o c a l park and a park system was incremental - r e l y i n g on American, and a few Canadian precedents. Although c i v i c centres d i d not r e c e i v e much a t t e n t i o n during t h i s p e r i o d , there were "White C i t y " type designs being done f o r e x h i b i t i o n s and u n i v e r s i t i e s i n Canada.13 These designs r e l i e d very h e a v i l y on. the p r i n - c i p l e s of formal park design and p a r t i c u l a r l y , boulevard systems. In 1899, W i l f r e d L a u r i e r wanted to see Ottawa transformed i n t o a Washington of the North. The C i t y r e c e i v e d an annual grant of $60,000 to be used i n the development of a park and boulevard system. In 1903 F r e d r i c k Todd was commissioned to prepare a plan f o r Ottawa and he recommended: a park system comprised of f o r e s t reserves, suburban parks, connecting boule- vards, waterway parks, and playgrounds; "picturesque" f o r e s t reserves w i t h a d i v e r s i f i e d scenery" to enjoy nature; and he encouraged the development of R o c k c l i f f e Park i n the east w i t h i t s rugged animated scenes; and, Chaudiere Park i n the west w i t h - i t s r e s t f u l views.1^ Ottawa was recognized as a prece- dent i n Canada, f o r other c i t i e s to emulate. Some Torontonians were sharply aware of i t s s p e c i a l n a t u r a l f e a t u r e s , and these were the focus of an improvement plan done i n 1906. A group that was to play a major r o l e i n advocating c i v i c issues i n Toronto, c a l l e d the Toronto G u i l d of C i v i c A r t , financed the p l a n , which proposed a l a r g e a d d i t i o n -132- to the parkland i n the c i t y . Besides the 1600 acres already i n parkland, i t proposed an a d d i t i o n a l 13 major parks and 250 acres i n s m a l l parks and p l a y - grounds. The s t r e s s was on major parks to preserve Toronto's n a t u r a l . features — r i v e r s , r a v i n e s , the w a t e r f r o n t , the escarpement, and v i s t a s . F i n a l l y , the plan suggested that the e n t i r e system, i n c l u d i n g the cemeteries be connected w i t h pleasure d r i v e s . Although the t r a d i t i o n a l G i t y B e a u t i f u l elements were not present i n these e a r l y designs, the awareness of the v i s u a l q u a l i t y of the c i t y be- gan to be evident. The p e r i o d between 1910 and 1913 saw the beginning of a r e a l i n - t e r e s t i n planning i n Canada. Several Canadian j o u r n a l s began p u b l i s h i n g a r t i c l e s on planning as w e l l as on parks. The i n t e r e s t was undoubtably i n - fluenced by events that were happening elsewhere i n the U.S., B r i t a i n and Europe; s p e c i f i c a l l y , the p u b l i s h i n g of Burnham's Chicago Plan i n 1909, the f i r s t N a t i o n a l Conference on C i t y Planning i n Canada, and the passing of the Housing and Town Planning Act i n Great B r i t a i n . For the f i r s t time, v a r i o u s bodies t r i e d to d i s c u s s the r o l e of beauty i n planning and the " t r u e " meaning of C i t y B e a u t i f u l . Margaret Meek, i n her t h e s i s maintains that the a r t i c l e s w r i t t e n i n t h i s p e r i o d seemed to have three repeated c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s : 1. u t i l i t y was s p e c i f i e d as a planner's f i r s t c o n s i d e r a t i o n . 2. planners had a v i s i o n of the i d e a l c i t y c h a r a c t e r i z e d by h e a l t h , convenience and beauty. 3. f i n a n c i a l c o n s i d e r a t i o n s were r a r e l y mentioned. Thomas Mawson, speaking at the U n i v e r s i t y of Toronto i n 1912 on the "main p r i n c i p l e s of s t r e e t planning" argued that a g r i d i r o n p a t t e r n forced people -133- to take a z i g - z a g route which was monotonous. In the name of convenience and a e s t h e t i c preference,he advocated the C i t y B e a u t i f u l concept of diagonal roads,where the diagonals would converge on the c i t y at a v i s u a l focus, such as a p l a z a . In a speaking engagement i n Saskatoon, Christopher J . Yorath, the C i t y Commissioner i n Regina presented h i s view that parks should f o l l o w the t r a d i t i o n a l " p r e s e r v a t i o n of n a t u r a l beauty" w i t h i n easy reach of everyone. Having had planning experience i n B r i t a i n , he was l i k e l y i n f l u e n c e d by the garden c i t y philosophy which wanted to introduce to the home l i f e of the worker, the c o n d i t i o n s common i n the country.15 Even though the a r t i c l e s and speaking engagements of the time s t r e s s e d the u t i l i t a r i a n i d e a l s , t h e r e was s t i l l ^ . a c o n t i n u a l focus on the a e s t h e t i c p e r s p e c t i v e . Although a man l i k e Mawson s t a t e d h i s concern f o r u t i l i t y and p r a c t i c a l i t y , h i s t o r y has shown that he was t o t a l l y unable to approach these problems or deal w i t h a . c i t y ' s p r a c t i c a l needs.16 Between 1910 and 1914 the C i t i e s of Ottawa, Winnipeg, Regina and Calgary had undertaken c i t y p l a n s , but the Canadian a r c h i t e c t u r e and en- g i n e e r i n g j o u r n a l s published i n Ontario, paid l i t t l e a t t e n t i o n to them. The communication between C e n t r a l and Western Canada was poor, so the western c i t i e s looked to the United States and B r i t a i n > f o r ideas. Edmonton, Calgary and Regina a l l had plans done i n the D a n i e l Burnham,or formal s t y l e . Edmonton h i r e d an American, A.U. M o r e l l i n 1912 to do i t s c i v i c p l a n ; and both Calgary and Regina h i r e d Thomas Mawson i n October 1912 and June 1913 r e s p e c t i v e l y . Only the Winnipeg plan lacked C i t y B e a u t i f u l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s , as i t was pre- pared i n 1911 by members of the Winnipeg C i t y Planning Commission and other -134- people i n the c i t y . The p r e l i m i n a r y plan was aimed at s p e c i f i c problems such as implementing zoning, r a p i d t r a n s i t and housing,and these aims were d e a l t w i t h w i t h i n the scope of e x i s t i n g l e g i s l a t i o n . However, the Commission hoped to turn i t s f i n d i n g s and ideas over to a landscape a r c h i t e c t i n order that a f i n a l design be prepared. I f t h i s had happened, the plans f o r Winnipeg would have been very much l i k e those of the other c i t i e s . During t h i s p e r i o d the Toronto water f r o n t plan r e c e i v e d a l o t of a t t e n t i o n i n Canadian Journals. The plan was presented i n the grand manner of Burnham's p l a n i n that 900 acres of parkland was recommended,including a lakeshore d r i v e . Other elements that were featured were a park and lagoon system, b r i d l e p a t h s , foot paths, a protected waterway f o r small c r a f t as w e l l as future ideas f o r a t e r r a c e promenade, playground and a.bathing beach. Vancouver was also introduced to C i t y B e a u t i f u l ideas. Mawson's " c o l o n i e s p i l g r i m a g e " included Vancouver where he was h i r e d to do a scheme f o r Coal Harbour at the entrance to Vancouver's Stanley Park. Mawson d i d three schemes, the most formal of the three being chosen by the Park Board. The scheme featured a c i r c u l a r pond w i t h a 180 foot high o b l i s k , a f o o t b a l l stadium, a Baroque museum and an adjacent r e s t a u r a n t . He a l s o intended to l i n k t h i s formal " c u l t u r a l c e n t r e " to the downtown area by a formal boulevard system up Georgia S t r e e t . These plans w i l l be looked at i n greater d e t a i l i n the next chapter. The C i t y B e a u t i f u l plans that were done f o r c i t i e s across Canada had s e v e r a l c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s i n common. Although v e r b a l l y s t r e s s i n g economy and u t i l i t y , the p l a n s , i n f a c t d i d not do so; most of the plans expressed the t r a d i t i o n a l C i t y B e a u t i f u l elements. They were presented i n t h i s formal -135- s t y l e , and l i t t l e or no a t t e n t i o n was paid to problem s o l v i n g , the imple- mentation, or f i n a n c i a l c o n s i d e r a t i o n s . The years 1910 to 1914 saw the emergence of c i t y planning i n Canada and many c o u n c i l s saw the c i v i c improvements as a form of p u b l i c i t y f o r the c i t y . The u s u a l r e s u l t was that expenditures were authorized without too much thought and that many of the problems a r i s i n g w i t h r a p i d growth, were not d e a l t w i t h . Even i n those days however, the C i t y B e a u t i f u l m e n t a l i t y d i d have i t s c r i t i c s . Harry Bragg, the e d i t o r of the Canadian M u n i c i p a l J o u r n a l was i n t e r e s t e d i n housing and he argued t h a t , Washington, D.C. "had one of the f i n e s t p l a n s , and some of the worst slums on the c o n t i n e n t . " - ^ On the whole, Bragg and other s i m i l a r voices were not heard. The idea of h i r i n g an "expert" became exceedingly popular and i n the case of most western c i t i e s , i t was the f i r s t time they had h i r e d a land- scape a r c h i t e c t . Because landscape a r c h i t e c t s had o r i g i n a l l y been i n v o l v e d i n the planning of park systems i n the U.S., B r i t a i n and Easterns-Canada, when new forms to b e a u t i f y the c i t y came along, such as c i v i c c e n t r e s , the landscape a r c h i t e c t s simply d i d these jobs as w e l l . As i n the U.S. the r o l e that the park was to play i n the era of the C i t y B e a u t i f u l was u s u a l l y that of p r e s e r v i n g the n a t u r a l features of the c i t y , and as part of the development of a park and boulevard system. The t r a d i t i o n a l " n a t u r a l designs" continued to be used i n Canadian parks w i t h the emphasis on connecting these w i t h other c i t y f o c a l p o i n t s . There were a few exceptions however, and the Mawson plan f o r Stanley Park was one of them. His p r e s t i g e somehow i n f l u e n c e d the Park. Board i n Vancouver at that time to accept a complete change i n d i r e c t i o n and f u n c t i o n f o r Stanley -136- Park. Had t h i s C i t y B e a u t i f u l plan been c a r r i e d out, the park would be very d i f f e r e n t today. None of the plans f o r the Western c i t i e s were c a r r i e d out. They were a l l commissioned when times were good,but were submitted to the l o c a l governments a f t e r the boom had peaked and when there was a war being fought. In l a t e r years when times were once again more prosperous, some of the schemes were r e v i v e d . Edmonton, f o r e x a m p l e , f i n a l l y b u i l t a c i v i c centre scheme i n the 1960's on the same l o c a t i o n as the 1913 scheme had s p e c i f i e d . A f t e r 1914 Canadian planning entered a new e r a , and most planning thought was dominated by the Commission of Conservation, an o r g a n i z a t i o n that was appointed by the f e d e r a l government i n 1909. The h i r i n g of E n g l i s h - man, Thomas Adams, gave planning thought i n Canada a new focus. Although the i d e a l s i n v o l v e d w i t h c i v i c beauty were not e n t i r e l y absent, they played a minor r o l e from then on. Adams was c r i t i c a l of the C i t y B e a u t i f u l p r i n c i p l e s , but s t a t e d that n a t u r a l beauty d i d have a r i g h t f u l place i n c i t y planning. He simply f e l t that i n a time of economic r e s t r a i n t , that other needs i n the c i t y were more important. The idea of n a t u r a l touches continued to be sup- ported i n j o u r n a l s and by planners, but there was no more t a l k of park and boulevard systems. Tree p l a n t i n g and smaller s c a l e urban design was advocated. The parks that were advocated were u s u a l l y neighbourhood playground areas f o r c h i l d r e n . In 1921 the Commission of Conservation was abolished and planning thought became dominated by the Town Planning I n s t i t u t e of Canada, which had been founded i n 1919 by Adams and other planning p r o f e s s i o n a l s . By 1919 Canadian planning had entered, what many c a l l e d the C i t y E f f i c i e n t . This was -137- an era when economic e f f i c i e n c y and an o r d e r i n g of the environment was s t r e s s e d and popular t o p i c s such as zoning, t r a n s p o r t a t i o n , housing, r e g i o n a l planning, d e c e n t r a l i z a t i o n of i n d u s t r y , suburban development, and garden c i t i e s , were discussed. This A s s o c i a t i o n made i t very c l e a r that the modern Canadian view of planning had nothing to do w i t h the c o s t l y b e a u t i f i c a t i o n schemes of the e a r l y part of the century. A f t e r 1925 there was a s l i g h t renewal of i n t e r e s t i n c i v i c beauty although the primary concerns were s t i l l f o r economic e f f i c i e n c y . For the f i r s t time there was a new l i g h t shed on the r e l a t i o n s h i p of c i v i c beauty and cost. Planners suddenly began w r i t i n g about the " s o c i a l c o s t s " of u g l i n e s s and the i n d i r e c t m a t e r i a l value of beauty. At a meeting of the Town Planning I n s t i t u t e of Canada, G. Gordon W h i t n a l l , the D i r e c t o r of Planning f o r Los Angeles put i t w e l l , "(beauty) means more to the average community than probably any other s i n g l e thing."17 Summary The C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement i n the United States d i d not s u b s t a n t i a l l y change the design of the p u b l i c park. The new and o l d e r park landscapes s t i l l bore the design i n f l u e n c e of men l i k e Olmsted, Loudon, Repton, and even C a p a b i l i t y Brown. What did.change was the way i n which some of these parks were presented. They were designed to become an i n t e g r a l part of the c i t y r a t h e r than j u s t a l i n k i n a park system or as a landscape on i t s own. The increased concern f o r the p h y s i c a l and a e s t h e t i c f u n c t i o n of parks s i g n a l l e d the end of an era when the park was simply a pleasant place to "escape" t o . In the B r i t i s h C i v i c A r t s c h o o l , and p a r t i c u l a r l y i n the work of Thomas Mawson, who was r e s p o n s i b l e f o r many design schemes i n Canada, the - 1 3 8 - park began to d i s p l a y more of an a r c h i t e c t u r a l emphasis than i t had i n the past. As i n the American C i t y B e a u t i f u l case, a park was to compliment the whole c i t y , but t h i s was sometimes done at the expense of n a t u r a l i s t i c c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s . I f a l l of Mawson's designs had been completely implemented, the design of many parks i n Western Canada would be considerably more formal today. The development of p u b l i c park design came a long way between Paxton's Birkenhead Park and the parks of the 1920's. Gone were the days when one or two famous landscape a r c h i t e c t s d i d a complete design f o r a park and t h e i r ideas were then unmistakably evident on that landscape. There are very few parks l i k e that today. Park design g r a d u a l l y became a conglomeration of many peoples i d e a s , of a community's p a r t i c u l a r requirements, and a r e - f l e c t i o n of the l o c a l a u t h o r i t y ' s budget. There i s one element however, that survived the d i f f e r e n t emphasis of design through the years - that i s the " n a t u r a l landscape" element. This d e s i r e f o r a park to somehow d i s p l a y the n a t u r a l environment of the c i t y ' s ^environs, i s an i d e a that can be traced d i r e c t l y to B r i t a i n and the e a r l y works of Brown and Repton. The f a c t that the B r i t i s h precedent was used by American,and l a t e r Canadian park designers r a t h e r than the more formal park designs of Renaissance France and the Con- t i n e n t , has produced the park t r a d i t i o n s that we l i v e w i t h today, and w i l l very l i k e l y l i v e w i t h tomorrow. -139- FOOTNOTES 1 There are many references i n the l i t e r a t u r e to a park being the "lungs" of the c i t y . Brenda C o l v i n , i n her book Land and Landscape makes a good stab at the d e f i n i t i o n . She r e f e r r e d to parks as a way of b r i n g i n g f r e s h a i r and beauty w i t h i n reach of the whole p o p u l a t i o n — s e r v i n g l i t e r a l l y , as the lungs of an organism. Margaret Meek, " C i t y B e a u t i f u l i n Canada" ( D r a f t , Master's Thesis, U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1979) I b i d . 4 5 6 7 I b i d . I b i d . I b i d . Thomas Mawson, C i v i c A r t : Studies i n Town P l a n n i n g , Parks, Boulevards and Open Space (London: B.T. B a t s f o r d , 1911), pp. 9 - 13. 8 George Chadwick, The Park and the Town;.Public Landscape i n the 19th and 20th Centuries (New York: F r e d r i c k A. Praeger, Pub., 1966) p. 223. 9 I b i d . , p. 223. 10 I b i d . , p. 224. 1 1 I b i d . , p. 224. 1 2 Meek, " C i t y B e a u t i f u l i n Canada". 1 3 I b i d . 1 4 I b i d . 1 5 I b i d . -140- 16 I b i d . 17 I b i d . - 1 4 1 - l L L L t S»THATiOM 4 M A W S o r o ' s P L A M FOR PlTTeAlCRie F F PARJC , DUMFeRKL/Me 1^03. CHACDWIC^ - H 5 - iLLU- S T R A T l ON S pLAM FOR. P l T T f e M CRIEFF R\RK, DuNFfeRKLiKe l l 0 3 . C M A r O W U C f c l P 233. -146- CHAPTER V THE VANCOUVER PARK SYSTEM: 1886 - 1914 Now that the i d e a s , design and development of p u b l i c parks have been traced through the 18th and 19th c e n t u r i e s , i t i s of i n t e r e s t to look at the l o c a l landscape and attempt to determine the o r i g i n s s of the Vancouver park system. Were there d i r e c t design i n f l u e n c e s from B r i t a i n , Europe, the U.S.? As a young c i t y , was Vancouver concerned.about a " p u b l i c park" open- space f o r i t s c i t i z e n s ? Did the o r i g i n s of the people l i v i n g i n Vancouver during that time i n f l u e n c e the design and f u n c t i o n of the e a r l y parks? Did the p r o x i m i t y to S e a t t l e and the American West Coast produce d i f f e r e n c e con- cerns than those of Eastern Canadian c i t i e s ? A l l the questions are important when l o o k i n g at the development of a landscape i n the l a t e 19th and e a r l y 20th c e n t u r i e s . There were no j o u r n a l s d i s c u s s i n g the " l a t e s t t h i n g i n p u b l i c parks". The ideas were brought, very s u b t l y , from elsewhere, and i t i s the subject of t h i s chapter to explore these l i n k s i n an attempt to account f o r the i n i t i a l design and f u n c t i o n of Vancouver's e a r l y parks. For the purpose of p r o v i d i n g a manageable scope, the time p e r i o d considered w i l l i n c l u d e the year of Vancouver's i n c o r p o r a t i o n , 1886, u n t i l the F i r s t World War. These were the i n i t i a l years of Vancouver's park develop- ment, and the ideas and preferences expressed during t h i s time, probably formed the d i r e c t i o n that the Park Board would take f o r years to come. Stanley' Park Stanley Park i s o f t e n touted as being one of the greatest p u b l i c parks i n the world. I t i s most c e r t a i n l y the jewel i n Vancouver's park system. I t was Vancouver's f i r s t park,and u n t i l the 1920's, was the Park Board's -147- primary concern. Understandably, i t i s the f i r s t landscape which one would look t o , to determine the design ideas that were prevelent at that time. The Beginnings of Stanley Park Before the f i r s t t r a i n of the Canadian P a c i f i c Railway a r r i v e d i n 1887, Vancouver was a very small town c a t e r i n g to the needs of lumber m i l l s and l o g g i n g camps. In 1885, the white p o p u l a t i o n i n the Burrard I n l e t area was only 900. By 1891, w i t h growth spurred by the CPR, Vancouver had a p o p u l a t i o n of 13,709 persons. These migrants were l a r g e l y from Ontario and the Maritimes, w h i l e people from the B r i t i s h I s l e s c o n s t i t u t e d only a p p r o x i - mately 18%. I t was men of t h i s stock that formed the f i r s t C i t y C o u n c i l when Vancouver i n c o r p o r a t e d i n 1886. ^ The f i r s t r e s o l u t i o n of the f i r s t meeting of C i t y C o u n c i l on May 12, 1886»was to p e t i t i o n the Dominion . government to grant a whole or part of the then m i l i t a r y reserve,as a p u b l i c park. In 1887 the Dominion government issued a grant f o r the reserve, w i t h the s t i p u l a t i o n that i t could take i t back f o r m i l i t a r y purposes at any time,and that i t s n a t u r a l i n t e g r i t y should be d i s t u r b e d as l i t t l e as p o s s i b l e . " 2 The C i t y C o u n c i l administered the park u n t i l a Park Commission was e l e c t e d and e s t a b l i s h e d i n 1888. The opening of the park took place on September 27, 1888 w i t h Mayor Oppenheimer, Mayor Grant of V i c t o r i a , and the Honourable John Robson, P r o v i n c i a l Secretary, t a k i n g part i n the ceremonies. The c i t y celebrated by h o l d i n g a gala dance at the Opera House on C a r r e l l S t r e e t . In October of 1889, Lord Stanley, the Governor General of Canada, came t o Vancouver to dedicate the park which was named i n h i s honour. I t was declared a p u b l i c -148- h o l i d a y , so that Lord Stanley could be met by the school c h i l d r e n . A causeway w i t h an arched bridge was b u i l t f o r h i s v i s i t — one of the f i r s t designed features f o r Stanley Park. Vancouver prospered during the years 1886 to 1892 }but then ex- perienced a depression f o r the remainder of the 1890's. Many of the ideas f o r the development of Stanley Park had to be shelved u n t i l 1900 when the gold and mining f i n d s caused the economy to boom i n Vancouver u n t i l the beginning of the F i r s t World War. -'These-, i n i t i a l years however, (1886-1900) saw the establishment of the b a s i c design and p r i o r i t i e s f o r Stanley Park, which have, f o r the most p a r t , survived to t h i s day. I would now l i k e to address the development of Stanley Park between 1886 and 1900 — both i t s p h y s i c a l development and the ideas and circumstances that l e d to i t s develop- ment, a f t e r which the boom p e r i o d i n Vancouver of 1900 to 1914 w i l l be ex- amined i n a s i m i l a r way. The I n i t i a l Years, 1886 - 1900 The f i r s t c l e a r i n g i n Stanley Park was the path that went around the park. I t was surveyed by L.A. Hamilton, a GPR land, commissioner and a l d e r - man, and was graded by A.G. Ferguson, an American who was appointed a Park Commissioner and who " f a t h e r e d " the park f o r 10 years. This path was f o l - lowed almost e x a c t l y , when i t was hard surfaced i n 1911. I t was surfaced w i t h shimmering white s h e l l s that came from s h e l l f i s h deposits i n the waters opposite the s i t e of the o l d Whoi-Whoi Indian V i l l a g e where Lumberman's Arch stands t o d a y . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 1) . From the beginning t h i s " p e r i p h e r a l " path was designed to encorporate a l t e r n a t i n g v i s t a s of huge trees and meadows, and the magnificent view of the mountains and the narrows. Today, the park d r i v e i s s t i l l the most h e a v i l y used part of Stanley Park. -149- Mr. Ferguson continued to give almost a l l h i s spare time to the park and the other commissioners were agreeable to l e a v i n g i t to him.^ In the e a r l y years, when the annual sum appropriated by the C o u n c i l f o r i t s up keep was depleated, Ferguson himself i n v a r i a b l y paid the b i l l s to the end of the year. Ex-alderman C o s t e l l o s a i d that one year Mr. Ferguson spent $5,000 on Stanley Park. Mr. Ferguson and h i s w i f e d i d not have any c h i l d r e n , so when he died he l e f t part of h i s estate to h i s s i s t e r - i n - l a w , Mrs. Ceperley, w i t h the request that when she had no f u r t h e r use f o r i t , that i t should be l e f t to the C i t y of Vancouver f o r the purpose of enhancing Stanley Park. Mrs. Ceperley s t a t e d , " I b e l i e v e that Mr. Ferguson s t i p u l a t e d i n h i s bequest that the money should be used f o r a park f o r c h i l d r e n . " 4 This r e - quest e v e n t u a l l y r e s u l t e d i n Vancouver's f i r s t supervised c h i l d r e n ' s p l a y - grounds, the Ceperley Children's Playgrounds at Second Beach. Mr. Ferguson t h e r e f o r e , was a very important f i g u r e i n the e a r l y development of the park. As e a r l y as 1889, Brockton Point was used as an a t h l e t i c ground. I t was the f i r s t area to be c l e a r e d and was used f o r c r i c k e t , soccer and f o o t b a l l . Besides u s i n g the p e r i p h e r a l road to get to the grounds, Van- couverites would land at Brockton P o i n t by way of a f e r r y which o r i g i n a t e d from the foot of C a r r a l l S t r e e t . U n t i l 1892, Brockton P o i n t was one of the most w e l l used and w e l l cared f o r p a r t s of Stanley Park. The Park Board minutes r e v e a l that i n 1892, they permitted the f e r r y to go to Brockton P o i n t provided that the rates were only 10c s i n g l e , one way and 15c r e t u r n , showing a concern f o r p u b l i c access and an attempt to curb c a p i t a l i s t p r o f i t . The entrance to the park was g r a d u a l l y groomed before 1890. A bridge was erected over the Coal Harbour mud f l a t s (where Lost Lagoon and the Causeway are today) and i n 1889, at the time of Lord Stanley's v i s i t , an -150- arch was added to the south end, c r e a t i n g a gateway to the park. Henry Avison was Stanley Park's f i r s t "keeper" and i n January.of 1889, a cottage was b u i l t f o r him and h i s f a m i l y near the Georgia S t r e e t entrance to the park. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 2) By 1892, Avison had.put up a fence, had s t a r t e d an E n g l i s h flower garden, and had s t a r t e d a zoo c o n s i s t i n g of a bear p i t . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 3) The few formal elements were set against a very n a t u r a l backdrop and v a r i o u s t r a i l s l e d o f f from the f r o n t of the cottage, t a k i n g one's eye i n t o the depths of the f o r e s t . By 1900 numerous t r a i l s had been c l e a r e d , many from the o l d l o g - ging s k i d s and Indian t r a i l s i n the park. A system of walking paths was cut connecting p o i n t s of i n t e r e s t such as Beaver Lake, Prospect P o i n t , Siwash Rock, the Zoo, and the Seven S i s t e r s , (huge Douglas F i r t r e e s northwest of Lost Lagoon). From the beginning, the park d r i v e was an i n t e g r a l part of the park. Buggy d r i v i n g was a frequent l e i s u r e l y pastime f o r the V i c t o r i a n s , and Vancouverites were no exception. As e a r l y as 1890, the c i t y ' s most im- portant c a r r i a g e s brought v i s i t i n g c e l e b r i t i e s to Prospect P o i n t to view the north shore from high above the f i r s t narrows. The point was c l e a r e d , and a small s h e l t e r was erected near the edge of the c l i f f . ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 4) Propsect P o i n t was one of Stanley Park's f i r s t t o u r i s t spots as w e l l as the f a v o u r i t e viewpoint of the l o c a l c i t i z e n s . I t , and other view spots along the d r i v e helped to e s t a b l i s h the park d r i v e as an important p e r i p h e r a l f u n c t i o n of the park. This has been f u r t h e r developed over the years u n t i l today, w i t h the d r i v e and sea w a l l , there i s a very s o p h i s t i c a t e d c i r c u l a t i o n system that enables everyone to enjoy the magnificent views. -151- F i n a l l y , the i n i t i a l years a l s o e s t a b l i s h e d Stanley Park as the c i t y ' s most important t o u r i s t a t t r a c t i o n . Vancouver's e a r l y c o u n c i l s and park boards were dominated by businessmen who knew the value of the t o u r i s t d o l l a r . In June of 1891, the Park Board appealed to C o u n c i l f o r a l a r g e r park budget, "That the Board d e s i r e s to c a l l the a t t e n t i o n of the Council to the n e c e s s i t y f o r c o n t i n u i n g the improvements i n Stanley Park. The Board r e s p e c t f u l l y p o i n t s out that the value of Stanley Park cannot be overestimated not only from i t s being a u s e f u l and pleasant r e s o r t f o r the c i t i z e n s but that as an a t t r a c t i o n f o r t o u r i s t s and v i s i t o r s to the c i t y i t has what might be termed a commercial value and the small amount spent upon opening up and improving the park ought to be looked upon as a good investment r a t h e r than as money spent. In the e a r l y 1890's, Vancouver began to experience a depression and i t grew at a more moderate.-rate. Parks were not a top p r i o r i t y and con- sequently the Park Board faced a severe cut i n i t s budget. An entry i n the Boards minutes f o r May 26, 1893 r e f l e c t e d the s i t u a t i o n , "Resolved that a f t e r a c a r e f u l examination of the f i n a n c i a l p o s i t i o n a l l work at Stanley Park should be stopped excepting the c o n t r a c t s already l e t , and a couple or three men to complete the underbrushing at Brockton P o i n t . Thus, the development of Stanley Park was slowed during the 1890's, and d i d not p i c k up u n t i l 1900, at the beginning of what Norbert McDonald terms, "a c r i t i c a l growth c y c l e f o r Vancouver." 7 At the turn of the century the p h y s i c a l developments that had occurred i n Stanley Park were important i n that they were a strong i n f l u e n c e on, the shape that Stanley Park was to take i n the f u t u r e . The p e r i p h e r a l d r i v e d e l i n i a t e d the f u n c t i o n of the p e r i - meter of the park; the Brockton P o i n t a t h l e t i c grounds e s t a b l i s h e d a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n i n the park; the t r a i l s enabled the heart of the park to be used by i t s c i t i z e n s ; the park entrance w i t h i t s arched gate, and w i t h Mr. Avison's -152- E n g l i s h flower garden designated the park's only formal area which i n years to come, was expanded to i n c l u d e a rose garden (modelled on.the P o r t l a n d Rose Garden); and f i n a l l y , the Park Board's concern f o r the naturalness of the park set a precedent that was to be followed u n t i l 1910. R e f l e c t i o n s on the I n i t i a l Years In the p u b l i c records and s o c i a l h i s t o r i e s of Vancouver, there are no convincing reasons to e x p l a i n j u s t what the c i t y f a t h e r s had i n mind when they a p p l i e d to the Dominion Government f o r Stanley Park, or what they intended to do i n terms of the park's design. I t may be s a f e l y assumed that they d i d not i n t e n d to h i r e a landscape a r c h i t e c t or "expert" such as F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted to prepare a design, as many American c i t i e s had done. They d i d , however, want to acquire parkland, a d e s i r e that was a l s o pre- v e l e n t i n many North American c i t i e s . There i s no evidence i n the C i t y archives to suggest that there had been a p u b l i c cry i n the community f o r a park, apart from a l e t t e r from A.W. Ross suggesting that C o u n c i l p e t i t i o n the government f o r the reserve on the f i r s t narrows. U n l i k e the i n d u s t r i a l c i t i e s i n B r i t a i n , and even New York, there was no urgent need to create a r u r a l s e t t i n g w i t h i n the s m a l l c i t y of Vancouver because i t was v i r t u a l l y surrounded by w i l d e r n e s s . To o b t a i n a c l u e to the underlying reasons, i t i s u s e f u l to look at the speeches made at the opening of the park i n 1886 by the d i g n i t a r i e s present. Mayor Oppenheimer of Vancouver, Mayor Grant of V i c t o r i a , and the Honourable John Robson, P r o v i n c i a l Secretary, addressed the l a r g e Vancouver crowd. Mayor Oppenheimer s t a t e d , that Stanley Park was unsurpassed i n beauty, and i t s grandeur of scenery; i t could not be e x c e l l e d i n i t s f i t n e s s -153- f o r the purpose of p u b l i c r e c r e a t i o n ; and that there was a need f o r a c i t y park to enable c i t i z e n s to get away from the "busy haunts of men." He went on to say however, that a l l great c i t i e s endeavour to provide parks and even s i n g l e d out Richmond Park i n London and Phoenix Park i n Dublin as parks that temporarily outshone Stanley Park. He c l e a r l y saw a need f o r " a r t " i n the park and p r e d i c t e d ' that when a r t u n i t e d w i t h nature i n Stanley Park, that i t would be the f i n e s t park on the continent. Both Mayor Grant and John Robson a l s o mentioned the need f o r " a r t " although no one elaborated on what they perceived as "art".8 I would seem that the people of Vancouver i n 1888 expected Van- couver to become a great c i t y , and a p u b l i c park was a r e f l e c t i o n of i t s growing importance. Mayor Oppenheimer was undoubtably not concerned about g e t t i n g away from the c i t y and "busy haunts of men" at that time, because there were numerous places people could go to get out of the small c i t y . He envisioned that Vancouver would e v e n t u a l l y become a great c i t y at the end of the CPRjand would then need p u b l i c park space to "escape" to. A r t , to him, d i d not have a c l e a r meaning but was another, element to be added to make the park more grand — a healthy r e f l e c t i o n on the c i t y . In many c i t i e s across North America i n the l a t e 1800's } there was a d e s i r e to acquire a great park that would b o l s t e r the c i t y ' s image n a t i o n - a l l y and i n t e r n a t i o n a l l y . The c i t i e s i n the West, which d i d not as yet have any urban i l l s to "escape from"5 were o f t e n experiencing r a p i d , growth, and saw parkland as a symbol of i t s current h e a l t h and a s p i r a t i o n s f o r the f u t u r e . In 1886, Vancouver c a r r i e d newspapers from San F r a n c i s c o , Los Angeles, P o r t l a n d , and S e a t t l e , so Vancouverites were w e l l aware of the events t a k i n g place i n those American c i t i e s . Vancouver was i n c r e a s i n g l y being worked i n t o a West -154- Coast urban network. While Hammond H a l l d i d not begin h i s work on Golden Gate Park u n t i l 1890, Olmsted had done a plan e a r l i e r , and the d e s i r e f o r a large p u b l i c park had been expressed i n San Francisco f o r years. S e a t t l e had a l s o acquired parkland by 1886. The people from Eastern Canada were l i k e l y aware of the numerous grants of land that the Dominion Government was making to many Eastern c i t i e s to be used as parkland. They saw Vancouver's opportunity i n the m i l i t a r y reserve i n Coal Harbour. The people that l i v e d i n Vancouver i n the i n i t i a l years undoubtably had a profound-affect on the e a r l y development of Stanley Park. The vast m a j o r i t y of the population was from Eastern Canada and the few Americans were i n r e l a t i v e l y i n f l u e n c i a l p o s i t i o n s . Because both these groups were f a m i l i a r w i t h the n a t u r a l i s t i c type of urban, park that Olmsted had been de- s i g n i n g and that the E n g l i s h gardeners had been designing p r e v i o u s l y , i t was n a t u r a l that very formal parks were not advocated. The more formal French i n f l u e n c e was not evident on the Vancouver landscape u n t i l the C i t y B e a u t i f u l method of park and boulevard design was somewhat i n f l u e n c i a l around 1910. In l a t e r years there were other French i n f l u e n c e s such as the "pattern making" f l o r a l design gardens such as the one at Prospect P o i n t today that o f t e n reads, "Stanleys Park, . B r i t i s h Columbia." The Eastern Canadians who came to Vancouver very early, brought a p a r t i c u l a r brand of V i c t o r i a n middle c l a s s s t r u c t u r e . They, l i k e the B r i t i s h , a l s o enjoyed promenading and c a r r i a g e r i d i n g . The park d r i v e , t h e r e f o r e , was a l o g i c a l f i r s t development i n the park. By 1892, there was an extension to the s t r e e t r a i l w a y system to Stanley Park which enabled people to r i d e to the -155- entrance and walk through the park. Ed Gibson, i n h i s t h e s i s , "The Impact of S o c i a l B e l i e f on Land- scape Change: A Geographical Study of Vancouver," s t a t e s , t h a t , "the doc- t r i n e that human w i l l and r a t i o n a l i t y can dominate nature does not appear to have been accepted by anyone."9 E. Wilson, a woman of the Vancouver middle c l a s s during that p e r i o d wrote a book e n t i t l e d The Innocent T r a v e l l e r i n which she explained her b e l i e f s on man and nature. She advocated that nature i n f l u e n c e d the w e l l being of man.10 This respect and reverence f o r the n a t u r a l landscape or the . " r u r a l c o u n t r y s i d e " as the B r i t i s h termed i t , was evident i n the i n i t i a l years, and l i k e l y saved Stanley Park from t h r e a t s that were to come i n the f o l l o w i n g years. Several commercial ven- tures were planned f o r parts of Stanley Park, but the Park Board speaking f o r the m a j o r i t y of c i t i z e n s , kept these to a minimum. The i n f l u e n c e of A.G. Ferguson was a l s o of some consequence. As an Americanjhe was perhaps f a m i l i a r w i t h Olmsted's work, and was anxious to guide Stanley Park i n that d i r e c t i o n . His constant a t t e n t i o n towards the Park, and h i s f i n a n c i a l generosity i n d i c a t e d - t h a t he may have had some k i n d of "comprehensive p l a n " i n h i s mind. Ferguson may have been aware of what McLaren was accomplishing w i t h the San Francisco park system, and that Van- couver a l s o needed a "watchdog" and defender of the park landscape. Fer- guson's name was l a t e r given to the p o i n t on the West Side of Stanley Park o v e r l o o k i n g E n g l i s h Bay. Another American i n f l u e n c e was the c r e a t i o n of an e l e c t e d park board. Vancouver was the f i r s t c i t y i n Canada to e l e c t a park committee, and t h i s was at a time when the C i t y Councils across the country were j e a l o u s l y -156- guarding t h e i r power when i t came to p u b l i c parks. Most c i t i e s d i d not have park committees l e t alone e l e c t e d ones. Even though Vancouver's f i r s t Park Boards were dominated by businessmen, they were nevertheless bodies that were able to concentrate on the narrower i s s u e of parks r a t h e r than the pro- blems of the c i t y as a whole. I t enabled a man such as Mr. Ferguson to go ahead w i t h h i s l i t t l e p r o j e c t s without having to answer to C i t y Council and the p u b l i c as a whole. The B r i t i s h people i n Vancouver, few as they were i n 1887, a l s o had an i n f l u e n c e i n the e a r l y development of Stanley Park. The c r i c k e t p i t c h at Brockton Oval a t t e s t e d to that f a c t . The c r i c k e t club was one of the f i r s t clubs i n Vancouver and was a major force behind the c l e a r i n g of the a t h l e t i c grounds. The B r i t i s h labour c l a s s that began to a r r i v e w i t h the completion of the CPR, was a l s o v o c a l about i t s d e s i r e f o r r e c r e a t i o n space. The people that l i v e d i n Vancouver i n the i n i t i a l years, t h e r e f o r e , and the perceptions and a s p i r a t i o n s that these people had f o r Vancouver as a c i t y , i n f l u e n c e d the e a r l y development of Stanley Park. They c l e a r l y saw Vancouver as a c i t y w i t h a tremendous f u t u r e , but f u n n i l y enough,, a f t e r a l l the opening day t a l k of " a r t " there seemed to be no c o n s i d e r a t i o n given to h i r i n g a landscape a r c h i t e c t or designer to prepare a plan f o r t h e i r "jewel park". Their incremental approach to the development of the park may have been the r e s u l t of a l a c k of funds, or the d e s i r e to p r o t e c t the n a t u r a l features of the park by g r a d u a l l y adding features that would complement the landscape. In a l l l i k e l i h o o d , n e i t h e r explanation i s t o t a l l y c o r r e c t , and the r e a l reason f o r the incremental approach i s the t o t a l l a c k of any s o r t of development p o l i c y or idea of what they wanted Stanley Park to be. While -157- there are numerous reasons why some features are here or there i n the park, the overwhelming d e s i r e to acquire land f o r park purposes, which i n turn enhanced the city,was the primary reason f o r Stanley Park's i n i t i a l e x i s t - ance as a park. The Park .Commissioners d i d not s t a r t t h i n k i n g s e r i o u s l y about the f u n c t i o n and design of the Park u n t i l the e a r l y 1900's, when the economy was once again booming, and there was an i n f l u x of more s o p h i s t i c a t e d people i n Vancouver. The Boom Years 1900 - 1914 The depression ended around 1900 when I n t e r i o r mining and gold prospects improved,and Vancouver's p o p u l a t i o n began to grow very r a p i d l y . I t was, as Norbert McDonald c a l l e d i t , the "golden age of the r e a l e s t a t e operator" as people bought and s o l d land i n the West End and i n Vancouver's new suburbs.11 Between 1901 and 1911 the population of Vancouver grew from 27,000 to 100,000 people. I t ceased to be a small town. In 1892 the e l e c t r i c s t r e e t r a i l w a y had been brought to Stanley Park, but during the 1 8 9 0 ' s , l i t t l e t r a c k was added to the system. In the e a r l y 1900's a 103 mile r a i l w a y system was established,which enabled the expanding p o p u l a t i o n to be a c c e s s i b l e to Stanley Park. The Park Board had a more s u b s t a n t i a l budget once again, and more a t t e n t i o n was turned t o - ward the improvement of Stanley Park. Generally,the new improvements b u i l t upon the e x i s t i n g design f e a - t u r e s . The sports grounds were f u r t h e r enhanced, p i c n i c grounds were c l e a r e d , new t r a i l s were cut i n the f o r e s t w h i l e the older ones were improved, and the zoo was slowly expanded. The p e r i p h e r a l park t r a i l was hard surfaced i n 1911, and a motorized bus s e r v i c e was s t a r t e d to d r i v e v i s i t o r s through -158- the park and stop at places l i k e the zoo, Prospect P o i n t , and the B i g Hollow Tree. Playgrounds f o r c h i l d r e n got t h e i r beginning at Ceperley's Children's Playground at Second Beach i n 1907. In 1911 a greenhouse was b u i l t to c u l - t i v a t e shrubs f o r the park. The park entrance was s t i l l the most formal area of the park w i t h various flower beds and p i c k e t fences. In 1912 the Board acquired a f i r e engine f o r the park's p r o t e c t i o n . The c i t i z e n s of Vancouver became more i n v o l v e d i n the d e c i s i o n s made about Stanley Park, and r a i s e d a p u b l i c outcry over two i n c i d e n t s during the boom p e r i o d . These were t h r e a t s to Deadman's I s l a n d and then to Lost Lagoon, events that saw the beginning of c i t i z e n s ' p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n the C i t y of Vancouver, a phenomenon that had an impact on the d e s t i n y of the Vancouver park system. Deadman's I s l a n d Issue The f i r s t major threat to Stanley Park began i n 1899 when the Federal Government claimed that the lease that t r a n s f e r r e d Stanley Park to the C i t y of Vancouver d i d not i n c l u d e Deadman's Island,and i t t h e r e f o r e i n - tended to a s s e r t i t s c l a i m i n order to use i t as an i n d u s t r i a l s i t e . The Park Board d i d not accept t h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of the lease and declared i t s c l a i m to the i s l a n d . In February the Federal Government signed a 25 year lease to an American i n d u s t r i a l i s t , Theodore Ludgate, who wanted to b u i l d a sawmill on Deadman's I s l a n d . Reaction i n the Community was immediate and very v o c a l . A l o c a l p e t i t i o n was c i r c u l a t e d w i t h over 200 signatures opposing the lease and supporting the Park Committee's c l a i m to the i s l a n d . On the Vancouver C o u n c i l , opinion was d i v i d e d between conservation- i s t s and i n d u s t r i a l i s t s . Alderman McGuigan summarized the viewpoint of h i s -15.9T colleagues opposed to the l e a s e , "the I n t e g r i t y of the park should be main- t a i n e d by ensuring that Deadman's I s l a n d was not a l i e n a t e d f o r i n d u s t r i a l purposes, but maintained as an i n t e g r a l part of the park. I t i s a unique possession throughout the continent and r i g h t s over i t should not be l i g h t l y waved."-'-2 Expressing the opposite view, Alderman McPhaiden admitted that Stanley Park was important to Vancouver, but l i k e some o t h e r s , f e l t that the economic b e n e f i t s outweighed the need to conserve the n a t u r a l environment. He s t a t e d that those opposed to the m i l l were "not f r i e n d s of Vancouver". At a c o u n c i l meeting, a spectator shouted, "a man never got a square meal o f f scenery!"13 Outside C o u n c i l the l i n e s separating the two viewpoints were drawn very q u i c k l y i n the community. The l i b e r a l MP f o r Vancouver, G.R. Maxwell s t r o n g l y upheld Ludgate i n t e r e s t s and. argued that the m i l l would a l l e v i a t e some of Vancouver's unemployment. The Vancouver and D i s t r i c t Trades and Labour C o u n c i l ran numerous a r t i c l e s i n t h e i r newspaper The F e d e r a t i o n i s t s t a t i n g that i f saw t h i s s i t u a t i o n as another example of government f a v o u r i n g b i g business i n surrendering the people to p r i v a t e i n t e r e s t s . The Vancouver D a i l y News A d v e r t i s e r was a l s o s t r o n g l y opposed to the lease and contended that C i t y C o u n c i l , the Park Board, the Board of Trade, and the Labour C o u n c i l spoke f o r the m a j o r i t y of Vancouver's c i t i z e n s . To compound the matter even more, many people i n the community resented the f a c t that Ludgate was American, and saw him as a s p e c t a t o r , removing wealth from Canada. The people of Vancouver were c l e a r l y d i v i d e d as l e g a l custody of Deadman's I s l a n d was passed to Ludgate on March 1, 1899. The b a t t l e raged f o r eleven years, w i t h the P r o v i n c i a l Government becoming i n v o l v e d and going to court to r e s t r a i n Ludgate from t r e s p a s s i n g . -160- The court cases dragged on u n t i l l a t e 1911, when Ludgate's c l a i m was upheld and he re-occupied the i s l a n d , e v i c t i n g a l l squatters. The s i g n i f i c a n c e of t h i s long and emotional s t r u g g l e over Deadman's I s l a n d was not only the chain of events, but the p e r s i s t e n c e and d e d i c a t i o n of both sides i n v o l v e d . " I t was a b a t t l e , a l b e i t m i c r o s c o p i c , i n a war that had been going on between i n d u s t r i a l i s t s and c o n v e r s a t i o n i s t s across North America over the n a t u r a l h e r i t a g e of t h i s c o n t i n e n t . " I 4 Many c i t i z e n s of Vancouver who could be c a l l e d c o n s e r v a t i o n i s t s or n a t u r a l i s t s , b e l i e v e d i n p r e s e r v i n g the f o r e s t wilderness of a l l parts of Stanley Park and saw i t as a part of t h e i r l o c a l h e r i t a g e . Although the Indian community was not v o c a l at that time i t i s c l e a r that Deadman's I s l a n d was an extremely important part of t h e i r h e r i t a g e . I t was the s i t e of the great war w i t h the Haida and southern t r i b e s and i s the subject of many Indian legends.15 x t l a t e r became the l o c a l band's b u r i a l ground. The Vancouver Province newspaper summarized the unrest which pre- v a i l e d i n the c i t y a f t e r Ludgate c l e a r e d the i s l a n d i f i t s magnificent t r e e s . "The l a s t t r e e has been cut down on the i s l e of dreams, or Deadman's I s l a n d , and desolate and p a t h e t i c , i t l i e s , across the entrance to Coal Harbour, s h i v e r i n g i n i t s nakedness, a monument to m a t e r i a l i s m , vandalism, and s t u p i d i t y , cleverness and i l l e g a l i t y . " 1 6 A sawmill was never constructed on Deadman's I s l a n d because Ludgate died s i x years a f t e r he won h i s case. His e s t a t e could not pay the r e n t , so Deadman's I s l a n d was returned to the Dominion government. U n f o r t u n a t e l y , the magnificent view of Deadman's I s l a n d from the West End r i d g e was l o s t forever. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 5) -161- Mawson's Plan f o r the Head of Coal Harbour The second t h r e a t to Stanley Park was a c t u a l l y a design scheme that promised to change the appearance and f u n c t i o n of the park. By 1910 Vancouver began to be aware of the C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement and the Chicago World's F a i r of 1893. Factions w i t h i n the community began to v o c a l i z e the need f o r a more b e a u t i f u l c i t y . L i k e others across North America i n v o l v e d i n C i t y B e a u t i f u l thought at that time, they saw p u b l i c parks and green space as an e s s e n t i a l element. The Park Board g r a d u a l l y became atuned to what the community was t h i n k i n g . The Vancouver Council of Women asked the Park Board to meet them to discuss C i t y B e a u t i f u l , and the Vancouver C i t y B e a u t i f u l A s s o c i a t i o n w i t h i t s l a r g e membership from the business community and the Board of Trade, per- suaded the Board that a more b e a u t i f u l c i t y would a t t r a c t more t o u r i s t d o l l a r s . 1 7 A c c o r d i n g l y , the Park Board endeavoured to i n c o r p o r a t e such ideas w i t h i n i t s own operations. The Board saw that a landscape design f o r the Head of Coal Harbour and entrance to the park (at low t i d e t h i s area was s m e l l i n g mud f l a t s ) would enhance some of the piecemeal development that had progressed there and would be an opportunity to create a magnificent landscape r e f l e c t i n g Stanley Park's r o l e as the c i t y ' s major park and primary t o u r i s t a t t r a c t i o n . In 1912, Thomas Mawson toured Canada and expressed a wish to a i d i n the design of Stanley Park. The Park Board h i r e d Mawson to prepare a plan f o r the Head of Coal Harbour, (which today i s Lost Lagoon, the Causeway, and Brockton P o i n t ) . Stanley Park was a landscape a r c h i t e c t ' s dream, and Mawson -162- wanted to design the whole park, but the Board would not comply. By June of 1912 he produced three very d e t a i l e d plans f o r the southern p o r t i o n of the park,and by October,the Board had chosen the t h i r d plan which was the most elaborate and Mawson's f a v o u r i t e . This plan was a very formal design using a great c i r c u l a r pond as the c e n t r a l element, surroundea-by a f o o t b a l l stadium, two n e o - c l a s s i c a l b u i l d i n g s housing a n a t u r a l museum and a restaurant,and c h i l d r e n ' s playgrounds. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n s 6 and 7) The f r e s h water pond was to have a 180 foot ornamental o b l i s k i n i t s centre. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 8) Again, there was a r e a c t i o n from segments of the community who d i d not want a formal design such as t h i s i n Stanley Park. The trade unions organized over the i s s u e because they wanted the park to remain i n a n a t u r a l s t a t e w i t h minimal c l e a r i n g , f o r . . c h i l d r e n ' s playgrounds. The unions were j u s t as concerned about the f u n c t i o n of the park as w i t h the n a t u r a l a e s t h e t i c s . The C i t y B e a u t i f u l A s s o c i a t i o n , a group formed to advocate the b e a u t i f i c a t i o n of the c i t y , d i d not apparently want to see the demise of the naturalness of Stanley Park and were v i o l e n t l y opposed to the Mawson p l a n . They h e l d a p u b l i c meeting i n December, of 1912 to p u b l i c l y t e l l the Park Board "Hands Off Stanley Park!"! 8 The A s s o c i a t i o n pointed to the clause i n the lease from the Dominion Government preventing the f a l l i n g . o f t r e e s or otherwise a l t e r i n g the park, except f o r the purpose of making roads, without the consent of the M i n i s t e r of the M i l i t i a . They claimed that i t would be i l l e g a l to b u i l d the stadium, museum and r e s t a u r a n t . Mawson's design f o r Stanley Park was never a c t u a l i z e d , p a r t l y -163- because of the negative r e a c t i o n from the community and p a r t l y because the war caused energies to be channelled elsewhere. The i n c i d e n t i l l u s t r a t e d however, that the c i t i z e n s of Vancouver responded to t h r e a t s to the n a t u r a l - ness of Stanley Park and that they wanted to p a r t i c i p a t e i n . d e c i s i o n s made about t h e i r park. By 1914, the Park Board s t i l l d i d not have a development p o l i c y f o r Stanley Park. What they d i d have was a b e t t e r i d e a of how the p u b l i c viewed the park. They r e a l i z e d that besides the expansion of features already i n the park, they needed c h i l d r e n ' s playgrounds and more p u b l i c beaches. R e f l e c t i o n s on the Boom P e r i o d 1900 - 1914 The B r i t i s h Columbian gold rush brought Canadians, Europeans and Americans to Vancouver i n l a r g e numbers and t r i g g e r e d an enormous b u i l d i n g boom i n the c i t y . The numbers of B r i t o n s increased tremendously and by 1911, they accounted f o r 34% of the p o p u l a t i o n . A great number of the E n g l i s h were i n managerial and land owner r o l e s , w h i l e many of the others were of the labour c l a s s and c o n t r i b u t e d h e a v i l y to the labour movement and s o c i a l i s t p o l i t i c s i n Vancouver. Ed Gibson remarked i n h i s t h e s i s t h a t "these B r i t i s h elements demonstrated d e f i n i t e sets of s o c i a l b e l i e f s u s u a l l y expressed i n the landscape, through s o c i a l o r g a n i z a t i o n s and p o l i c i t a l action."19 The B r i t i s h were u s u a l l y more s o p h i s t i c a t e d about the need f o r urban parks, and brought w i t h them, the l a t e s t ideas f o r park design from B r i t a i n . The Gardenesque trend was s t i l l popular there at the t u r n of the century and showed i n t h e i r i n d i v i d u a l flower gardens. Flowers were grown i n beds and were grouped by p a r t i c u l a r s p e c i e s . They were o f t e n o f f s e t by shrubbery behind the beds, modifying the contrast of d e l i c a t e flowers and l a r g e -164- t r e e s . The entrance to Stanley Park g r a d u a l l y gained more and. more f l o r a l beds, and through the years, t h i s s e c t i o n of the park has become the formal flower garden area. This concern and care f o r flower arrangements i n Stanley Park, Queen E l i z a b e t h Park and numerous other parks i n Vancouver i s a very B r i t i s h t r a i t and i s not seen n e a r l y to the same extent i n American parks today. The B r i t i s h community was however, not s u c c e s s f u l i n i n f l u e n c i n g the c r e a t i o n of very l a r g e expanses of lawn that i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c to Hyde Park, Kensington Garden, and v i r t u a l l y a l l B r i t i s h parks. Even town com- mons were u s u a l l y a very l a r g e expanse of lawn that could be used f o r games and walking. Loudon's Gardenesque s t y l e park had modified the vast s t r e t c h e s of lawn that were c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of C a p a b i l i t y Brown's landscapes, and both the American and Canadian park designers or a d m i n i s t r a t o r s chose to encor- porate the smaller s c a l e more p r i v a t e landscapes of the Gardenesque s t y l e . In the case of Stanley Park, there were no l a r g e expanses c l e a r e d f o r lawn except f o r the a t h l e t i c grounds at Brockton Point which the B r i t i s h were o r i g i n a l l y r e s p o n s i b l e f o r , and the v a r i o u s playgrounds and p i c n i c areas. The f a c t that Vancouver was such a young c i t y and was not c r e a t i n g a park out of an already c l e a r e d area was an obvious i n f l u e n c e , but i t i s s u r p r i s i n g that there wasn't more c l e a r i n g done on the B r i t i s h model. The B r i t i s h a l s o pushed f o r p u b l i c t e n n i s c o u r t s , playgrounds, and p u b l i c beaches. The south corner of Stanley Park i n particular,shows a strong B r i t i s h design i n f l u e n c e . I t i s an a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n area t h a t , by the e a r l y 1920's had p i c n i c grounds, p l a y i n g f i e l d s , bowling greens, and tennis c o u r t s . To t h i s day t h i s s e c t i o n of the park i s an a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n area w i t h p i t c h and put g o l f , s h u f f l e b o a r d , and other a c t i v i t i e s . -165- There was an i n c r e a s i n g American i n f l u e n c e i n Vancouver from 1900 to 1914. L i k e the Americans, Vancouverites adhered to the p r i n c i p l e s of i n d i v i d u a l i s m , p r i v a t e e n t e r p r i s e , and the d e s i r e f o r r a p i d growth. Many thought that the c i t y should r e l y on the p r i v a t e s e c t o r to provide the b a s i c m u n i c i p a l s e r v i c e s and u t i l i t i e s . With t h i s atmosphere p r e v a i l i n g , i t i s amazing that the Park Board was able to prevent commercialism i n the park. By 1904 the Board i n s i s t e d on c o n t r o l l i n g a l l b u i l d i n g standards i n the park. In 1906 the use of the roads w i t h i n the park f o r commercial purposes was p r o h i b i t e d and i n 1905 the Board r e j e c t e d a proposal to b u i l d a speedway. W i t h i n the e a r l y years the Board turned down proposals f o r : a r i f l e range; motor boat races; a navy torpedo; a g r a i n e l e v a t o r ; a howitzer; and E n g l i s h cabs.^O U n f o r t u n a t e l y , the Park Board was not as s u c c e s s f u l i n preventing the demise of Deadman's I s l a n d f o r a proposed saw m i l l . These r e j e c t i o n s again point to the f a c t that although the Park Board d i d not have a design plan f o r the park, i t d i d have p o l i c y of keeping the park i n i t s n a t u r a l s t a t e as much as p o s s i b l e . This p o l i c y waivered, how- ever, i n 1912, when the American C i t y BeautifulMovement had i n f l u e n c e d many Vancouverites i n t o t h i n k i n g that a very formal entrance to the park would be a great asset to t h e i r c i t y which, at that time,had very great a s p i r a t i o n s . Because the American i n f l u e n c e was so strong i n Vancouver during those years and because i t became evident that most American c i t i e s were not developing t h e i r parks imcrementally but w i t h an o v e r a l l design p l a n , many people i n Vancouver wanted Stanley Park to have a formal face l i f t . As i n the cases of most American c i t y parks redesigned during the C i t y B e a u t i f u l P e r i o d , the whole park was not redesigned, but the eritranceway became the most important -166- feature i n d e f i n i n g the park i n r e l a t i o n to the c i t y . Mawson was com- missioned to do a showpiece entrance to a wilderness park. The f a c t that Mawson was E n g l i s h and worked i n the C i v i c A r t s t y l e was i r r e l e v a n t . The p l a n was so i n f l u e n c e d by the American C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement .and the landscape at the Chicago Columbia E x p o s i t i o n , that there i s no question that t h i s i n f l u e n c e was American. The n e o - c l a s s i c a l b u i l d i n g s of s i m i l a r s c a l e and colour, and the c i r c u l a r pond could have been r i g h t out of the Jackson Park landscape i n Chicago of 1893. The grandness that these c i t i e s was s t r i v i n g f o r was r e f l e c t e d i n Mawson's d e s i r e to d i s p l a y n a t u r a l h i s t o r y i n the museum i n s t e a d of i n nature. Even more s u r p r i s i n g , the c i t y was w i l l i n g to l e t a S e a t t l e c o n s t r u c t i o n f i r m b u i l d the stadium, which r e - a f f i r m s the Council's f a i t h i n American knowledge and t e c h n i c a l s u p e r i o r i t y . The f a c t that the Park Board's f i r s t non-incremental design scheme had f a i l e d , strengthened even more, the idea that Stanley Park should remain i n i t s n a t u r a l s t a t e as much as p o s s i b l e . There were many t r e e worshipping n a t i v e s i n Vancouver who saw r e f l e c t e d i n Stanley Park,. B.C.'s primary i n d u s t r y and o r i g i n a l resource — the f o r e s t . In 1918, the Board o f f i c i a l l y adopted the p o l i c y that a l l development i n Stnaley Park was to enhance the n a t u r a l d i g n i t y of the park. Although Mawson's plan was not adopted, i t i s p o s s i b l e to p o i n t out some C i t y B e a u t i f u l i n f l u e n c e s on the landscape. The boulevard system idea was adopted during that time and from then on, the Park Board had a very formal p l a n t i n g p o l i c y f o r boulevards throughout the c i t y . By 1916, the bandstand, a l s o an American i n f l u e n c e , was b u i l t behind the formal gardens near M a l k i n Bowl. I l l u s t r a t i o n 9 shows the f o r m a l i t y of the area w i t h very angular flower -167- beds and diagonal walkways, both C i t y B e a u t i f u l f e a t u r e s . Summary Looking at the years 1900 - 1914 i n Vancouver's park h i s t o r y , i t seems t h a t , the o r i g i n a l design features developed i n Stanley Park i n the i n i t i a l years (1886 - 1900) were strengthened and elaborated, i n the more prosperous years. The o r i g i n a l p e r i p h e r a l path was hard surfaced i n 1911; the a t h l e t i c grounds at Brockton P o i n t were improved; the zoo was expanded to many v a r i e t i e s of indigenous animals; the southern s e c t i o n was expanded from a p i c n i c area to i n c l u d e playgrounds, t e n n i s c o u r t s , and bowling greens; and the entrance of the park near Avison's cottage acquired more flower gardens. The park's c i r c u l a t i o n system separating p e d e s t r i a n s , m o t o r i s t s , and r i d e r s was a l s o developed by t h i s time. I t was very l i k e l y i n f l u e n c e d by Olmsted's work i n C e n t r a l Park. I l l u s t r a t i o n 10, a map of Stanley Park i n 1911, shows these features and t h e i r o v e r a l l r e l a t i o n s h i p to the park. The great population expansion brought B r i t i s h , Americans, and other Canadians to the city,who had a somewhat more s o p h i s t i c a t e d a t t i t u d e towards urban parks. The people who came to s e t t l e on the P a c i f i c Coast apparently intended to be urban dwellers r a t h e r than farmers or miners,and therefore had a greater i n t e r e s t i n amenities such as parks.21 These new s e t t l e r s met head on w i t h the b a s i c value that seemed to run the whole length of the " l a s t f r o n t i e r " on the West Coast — that parks were not a top p r i o r - i t y because there was p l e n t y of n a t u r a l scenery. While the pioneers f e l t that r a p i d expansion was the most important c r i t e r i a , the newcomers tended to f e e l that s o c i a l amenities and p u b l i c parks were also important assets to a c i t y . -168- I t i s p o s s i b l e to see both B r i t i s h and American i n f l u e n c e s on the Stanley Park landscape. The i n t e r e s t i n the American C i t y B e a u t i f u l features w i t h t h e i r b a s i c French/Beaux A r t s o r i g i n was f a i r l y short l i v e d . The Canadians as w e l l as the Americans were unconsciously steeped i n the B r i t i s h t r a d i t i o n of. n a t u r a l landscapes that go back to C a p a b i l i t y Brown's work i n the l a t e 18th century. The obvious respect that Vancouver's c i t i - zens and v i s i t o r s had f o r the n a t u r a l d i g n i t y of Stanley Park, seemed to undermine any thoughts of a l t e r n a t i v e landscapes. I t was f o r that reason that people were so adamant and w i l l i n g to m o b i l i z e against the threat that they saw to Deadman's I s l a n d . The t h r e a t s to the Park i n the form of the Deadman's I s l a n d i s s u e and the Mawson P l a n , l e a d to some of the e a r l i e s t c i t i z e n p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n Vancouver's h i s t o r y . E s t a b l i s h e d o r g a n i z a t i o n s as w e l l as newly formed ones organized to lobby f o r a p a r t i c u l a r i s s u e , came together f o r the f i r s t time to p u b l i c l y s t a t e t h e i r o p p o s i t i o n or approval of a proposal that would a f f e c t them as c i t i z e n s of Vancouver. Open c o u n c i l meetings and p u b l i c meet- ings were h e l d i n order to gain a concensus among the d i f f e r e n t f a c t i o n s i n the c i t y . In the case of Deadman's I s l a n d , the d e c i s i o n was out of the p u b l i c ' s hands, but i n the case of the Mawson design scheme f o r Coal Harbour, the v o c a l c i t i z e n s ' delegations were i n f l u e n t i a l i n preventing the plan from be- coming a r e a l i t y . Hastings Park The events surrounding the development of Hastings Park showed that the r e s i d e n t s of Vancouver d i d not want every r e c r e a t i o n space i n the c i t y to be a wilderness park. -169- A few months a f t e r a c q u i r i n g Stanley Park, the C i t y looked at V i c t o r i a w i t h i t s recent grant of Beacon H i l l from the P r o v i n c i a l Government, and decided to lobby the P r o v i n c i a l Government f o r 64 acres i n Hastings Townsite. In 1888 the P r o v i n c i a l Commissioner of Lands and Works granted 160 acres i n the townsite provided the c i t y would extend i t s boundaries to i n c l u d e the park s i t e and b u i l d an access road i n t o the c i t y . 2 2 From the beginning, C i t y C o u n c i l wanted the Vancouver e x h i b i t i o n , which had formerly been held i n New Westminster, to be moved to the Hastings Townsite. An e x h i b i t i o n would r e f l e c t the vibrance and ambition of a young c i t y . 2 3 C o u n c i l decided not to assign the park to the Park Committee to ad- m i n i s t e r , but i n s t e a d c a l l e d f o r tenders f o r a p r i v a t e group to c u t , burn, and c l e a r 23 acres of the parkland. The e x h i b i t i o n remained i n New West- minster u n t i l a f t e r the depression of the 1890's however, so the Council d i d not go ahead w i t h i t s plans u n t i l the e a r l y 1900's. L i t t l e was done to the park during the 1890's except f o r the c l e a r i n g of s e v e r a l t r a i l s through the f o r e s t . Few people l i v e d i n Hastings Townsite i n comparison to the C i t y , so i t d i d not merit development as a neighbourhood park at that time. Council leased acreage w i t h i n the park to the B r i t i s h Columbia Jockey Club as a s i t e f o r i t s racecourse. I t was not unusual f o r e a r l y Councils to a l l o w p r i v a t e o r g a n i z a t i o n s to provide f a c i l i - t i e s because i t r e f l e c t e d the contemporary view that the r o l e of l o c a l gov- ernments should be l i m i t e d . 2 4 V i c t o r i a had allowed a race t r a c k i n Beacon H i l l park, and part of Brockton P o i n t was leased to the Brockton P o i n t A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n . In the e a r l y 1900's w i t h r a p i d p o p u l a t i o n growth and i n c r e a s i n g -170- p r o s p e r i t y , a core of i n t e r e s t e d businessmen (some of whom were aldermen and future mayors), farmers, and breeders who could a f f o r d to e s t a b l i s h an ex- h i b i t i o n , founded the Vancouver E x h i b i t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n . In March of 1909 a p l e b i s c i t e was held on whether a grant of acreage and money ($50,000) should be given to the E x h i b i t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n . Despite the o b j e c t i o n s of the Park Board 2 ^ and numerous ratepayers 2 *^, the p l e b i s c i t e passed. Ten acres were c l e a r e d and graded, and a f t e r another p l e b i s c i t e was h e l d to r a i s e an a d d i - t i o n a l $85,000, the f i r s t e x h i b i t i o n was h e l d i n 1910. I t was an immediate success. The attendance was 68,000 and the t o t a l r e c e i p t s gathered from the e x h i b i t i o n were almost $42,000. 2 7 The f a i r a l s o became a major convention centre as s i x o r g a n i z a t i o n s held t h e i r con- ventions on the grounds. When the E x h i b i t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n requested a d d i t i o n a l acreage i n October of 1910, the C o u n c i l , being impressed w i t h the r e s u l t s of Vancouver's f i r s t f a i r , agreed to s i g n a lease f o r a d d i t i o n a l l a n d . 2 8 At t h i s p o i n t the Park Board expressed i t s objections,and a f t e r a j o i n t meeting i n November w i t h the Board of Parks, i t was agreed that the park should be d i v i d e d i n h a l f — the southern s e c t i o n being administered by the Park Board and the northern s e c t i o n going to the E x h i b i t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n . The Park Board was r e p o r t e d l y happy w i t h f i n a l l y o f f i c i a l l y o b t a i n i n g h a l f the park. 2 9 The E x h i b i t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n immediately pressed f o r another p l e b i s c i t e to r a i s e $115,000 f o r the e r e c t i o n of major b u i l d i n g s and the development of landscaping. The p l e b i s c i t e was s u c c e s s f u l , enabling the E x h i b i t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n to gain an even stronger p o s i t i o n i n the tug of war over Hastings Park. -171- The Park Board,after having to s i t back f o r 23 years, decided to develop i t s p o r t i o n s of the park, e s p e c i a l l y i n the l i g h t of the f a c t that the r e s i d e n t s of Hastings Townsite had been lobbying f o r a neighbourhood park.30 They began by using s i m i l a r design ideas as f o r Stanley Park. Roads were l a i d out, two r u s t i c bridges were b u i l t and t r a i l s were cut through the woods. In the F i r s t Annual Report published by the Park Board i n 1912, they boasted of the d e l i g h t f u l park at Hastings Townsite, and promised the a d d i - t i o n of an ornamental garden and a playground. Their smuggness was not to l a s t long. The f a i r s of 1911 and 1912 were even more s u c c e s s f u l , and the E x h i b i t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n asked C o u n c i l f o r a lease on a d d i t i o n a l property i n 1913. The Park Board argued s t r o n g l y against t h i s , saying that the f u n c t i o n of the E x h i b i t i o n was not i n compliance w i t h the terms of the 1911 p r o v i n c i a l grant to the c i t y , of parkland f o r r e c r e a t i o n a l purposes. Park Superintendent W.S. Rawlings contended that $30,000 had already been spent and the ratepayers had approved another $10,000. He s t r e s s e d the need to preserve some woodland and observed that Ward 2 ratepayers had gone on record as being opposed to any f u r t h e r p o r t i o n or t h i s park being taken from the p u b l i c f o r e x h i b i t i o n pur- poses. "31 Despite the Park Board's o p p o s i t i o n , the C o u n c i l permitted the A s s o c i a t i o n to extend i t s grounds south to Hastings Street i n February of 1913. The Park Board, f e e l i n g defeated, abandoned the l a s t remnant of the park under i t s c o n t r o l and ceased to have t i e s . w i t h Hastings Park.32 I t i s rare that someone would lament the l o s s of Hastings Park as a f o r e s t . Vancouver i s a "PNE c i t y " today,and t h i s enthusiasm f o r e x h i b i - t i o n s which began i n the e a r l y part of the century i n Hastings Park, has f l o u r i s h e d through the years. Today, i t i s one of Vancouver's most d i v e r s i f i e d -172- parks although i t i s not under the auspices of the Park Board. The evidence suggests that the c i t i z e n s of Vancouver, between 1910 and 1913,approved of the e x h i b i t i o n , otherwise the numerous p l e b i s c i t e s would not have been supported. I l l u s t r a t i o n 11 taken at Hastings Park i n the 1890's, shows a stock s a l e or show which was a tremendously popular use of the s i t e long before the f i r s t e x h i b i t i o n i n 1910. I l l u s t r a t i o n 12, taken i n 1910, i l l u s t r a t e s the new e x h i b i t i o n b u i l d i n g and the splendor of the a g r i c u l t u r a l e x h i b i t i o n . People d i d not want another f o r e s t e d park — they wanted a place to go to see horse r a c i n g , to p i c n i c , and to walk around. The e v o l u t i o n of Hastings Park from a n a t u r a l landscape to a bust- l i n g e x h i b i t i o n ground i n 1914, was a d i r e c t i n f l u e n c e of the West Coast American example to the south. The whole idea of an a g r i c u l t u r a l f a i r was very strong i n America at that time, and the Vancouver E x h i b i t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n promptly j o i n t e d s e v e r a l American as w e l l as Canadian F a i r A s s o c i a t i o n s . Having c l o s e r a i l and other s o r t s of l i n k s w i t h C a l i f o r n i a , the Vancouver f a i r was q u i c k l y i n t e g r a t e d i n t o the Western American f a i r system rather than the dispersed Canadian f a i r system. The Vancouver A s s o c i a t i o n became an a c t i v e member of four American c o n t r o l l e d organizations, the P a c i f i c Grand F a i r and Racing C i r c u i t , the Congress of F e s t i v a l s , the North P a c i f i c F a i r s A s s o c i a t i o n and the I n t e r n a t i o n a l C i r c u i t s Association.33 xhe manager of the Vancouver E x h i b i t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n was president of two of those organiza- t i o n s i n 1912. I t was n a t u r a l that the Vancouver E x h i b i t i o n was modelled on the American counterpart. The design features were s i m i l a r , such as s p e c i a l i z e d stock d i s p l a y s , c i r c u s e s and midways.34 xhe plan of the Vancouver E x h i b i t i o n -173- grounds i n 1915 ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 13) shows an area j u s t west of the a t h l e t i c f i e l d -as some s o r t of formal d i s p l a y area. The c i r c u l a r walkway w i t h i n a t r i a n g l e of bordered t r e e s suggests the i n f l u e n c e of the f o r m a l i z e d shapes of the C i t y B e a u t i f u l school. F i n a l l y , the southern p o r t i o n that the Park Board began to c l e a r was a s e r i e s of lawns, playgrounds, and.picnic areas i n 1915. C i t y Park System to 1913 The development of a c i t y park system was slow i n Vancouver, and i n v a r i a b l y , an incremental process. A Toronto r e a l t o r , E.J. C l a r k , o f f e r e d a g i f t of l a n d i n 1888, which was on the southern periphery of Vancouver. The Park Board accepted t h i s g i f t a few years l a t e r , but t h i s was the l a s t g i f t i t accepted u n t i l the economy picked up once again a f t e r the depressed 1890's. In 1894, the r e s i d e n t s from the East End d i d ask f o r a "block of l a n d " between Dunlevy and Jackson Avenue (Cambie Street S i t e ) f o r park purposes, but the Park Board was unable to make any a c q u i s i t i o n s . 3 5 i n 1889 t h e r e f o r e , Vancouver had three parks; Stanley Park, Hastings Park, and C l a r k ' s Park. At the t u r n of the century, the Park Board was able to consider a c i t y park system and i t was i n the next t h i r t e e n years that the f i r s t major expansion occurred. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 14) The p o p u l a t i o n of Vancouver had doubled between 1891 and 1901, and the l o c a l r e s i d e n t s began to push f o r neighbourhood parks. In January 1902,the v o t e r s approved by a vote of 892 to 419, a $25,000 debenture to purchase the Cambie S t r e e t s i t e . 3 6 Both the Board and the r e s i d e n t s wanted t h i s s i t e to be used as a sports ground because the only -174- other s i t e was the i s o l a t e d Brockton P o i n t grounds which was used by a p r i v a t e club most of the time,and was not e a s i l y a c c e s s i b l e . The purchase of the Cambie Street grounds was the f i r s t time that the Board had paid f o r park- land and i t was l o c a t e d on the edge of the "Eastern Canadian" r e s i d e n t i a l s e c t o r near the G r a n v i l l e Townsite. ( I l l u s t r a t i o n 15) To the east was the working c l a s s r e s i d e n t i a l area, and to the west was the middle to upper c l a s s r e s i d e n t i a l area of the West End. As other neighbourhoods such as K i t s i l a n o and Grandview began to clamour f o r neighbourhood parks,the Park Board began to pay a t t e n t i o n . In September of 1902 the Council gained the p u b l i c ' s permission to r a i s e $125,000 to purchase f u r t h e r park properties.37 One of the f i r s t s i t e s acquired a f t e r the p l e b i s c i t e was Tatlow Park i n K i t s i l a n o i n 1907 and Greer's Beach near K i t s i l a n o P o i n t . The Board had to lease the beach park from the CPR (5 year lease o r i g i n a l l y ) w i t h the understanding that the c i t y was to pay $50 a month "based on the present assessment of the K i t s i l a n o property and i f that value went up at at any time, the rent would be increased by r a t i o . " 3 8 The Greer's Beach P a r k , l a t e r c a l l e d K i t s Beach, was immediately s u c c e s s f u l and the c i t y improved the s i t e by p l a n t i n g a lawn and shade t r e e s , and by p u t t i n g up a bath house. Some of the l o c a l r e s i d e n t s wanted to expand the beach and r a i s e d $1,500 to purchase acreage behind the beach,to be used as a p u b l i c park.39 A c i t i z e n s ' group c a l l e d the K i t s i l a n o Improvement A s s o c i a t i o n began to be v o c a l w i t h i n the area, and pressed f o r f u r t h e r park space. The C i t y responded by a c q u i r i n g the land bought by the l o c a l r e s i d e n t s and r e t u r n i n g t h e i r $1,500, plus a c q u i r i n g a d d i t i o n a l property f o r $63,000. K i t s i l a n o Beach area soon became a major p u b l i c park and the Park Board began to consider a long term improvement -175- program f o r the p a r k . 4 U The K i t s i l a n o Improvement A s s o c i a t i o n began to have a great deal of i n f l u e n c e i n the d e c i s i o n s made about the design and f u n c t i o n of K i t s Beach. Their p o s i t i o n was i n f l u e n t i a l i n s e v e r a l r e s p e c t s : adopting a by- law p r o h i b i t i n g r e l i g i o u s s e r v i c e s on the beach; opposing a b i d by an amuse- ment company to operate at K i t s Beach; opposing a renaming of the beach to Ocean Park; the adoption of a by-law to purchase more CPR lands to the south- west of the beach; and f i n a l l y , the a c q u i s i t i o n of f l o o d l i g h t s to l i g h t the boardwalk at the beach. The A s s o c i a t i o n obviously had an i d e a of what they wanted i n terms of a park design. The i n f l u e n c e was l a r g e l y B r i t i s h , i n - d i c a t e d by the importance of sea bathing, the d e s i r e to improve the boardwalk f o r promenading, and the d e s i r e to exclude any a c t i v e or r e c r e a t i o n a l uses other than walking through the shade trees and expanse of lawns. Besides K i t s Beach and Tatlow Park acquired i n K i t s i l a n o between 1902 and 1911, the Park Board a l s o managed to acquire another park s i t e i n K i t s i l a n o . In 1911, i t a p p l i e d to V i c t o r i a f o r a grant of a s i t e on the s p a r c e l y s e t t l e d western periphery of K i t s i l a n o . Thus by 1911, the Park Board was developing three park s i t e s i n the new d i s t r i c t of K i t s i l a n o — Tatlow Park, K i t s i l a n o or Greer's Beach, and McBride Park. In the d i s t r i c t of Grandview, there was a l s o c i t i z e n input i n t o the form of the new parks. In 1908 the Mount Pleasant and Grandview r a t e - payers p e t i t i o n e d the Board to improve Clark's Park which had not been developed s i n c e i t was acquired nineteen years p r e v i o u s l y . The ratepayers and Edward Odium, spokesman f o r the Grandview Progress A s s o c i a t i o n , t o l d C i t y Council that they were i n d i r e need of r e c r e a t i o n space.41 -176- In January of 1909, the Park Board asked the c i t y ' s r e s i d e n t s f o r permission to borrow $300,000 f o r parks throughout the c i t y . McKee speculates t h a t , "because the Board proposed to purchase park lands i n every ward except Ward 2 (West End) and presented a comprehensive plan r a t h e r than l o c a l o p t i o n s , the measure passed by a wide m a r g i n . " 4 2 with part of t h i s money, the Board acquired V i c t o r i a Park i n Grandview and was able to consider improvements to C l a r k ' s Park. Immediately a f t e r the a c q u i s i t i o n of V i c t o r i a Park, there was a con- f r o n t a t i o n between members of the Grandview community, over the design of the park. The Grandview Ratepayers A s s o c i a t i o n , many w i t h a B r i t i s h background, began to lobby f o r a f l o r a l park, to upgrade the "image of the neighbourhood". Others i n the community, i n c l u d i n g Mr. Odium advocated an a t h l e t i c ground. The Park Board, which i n l a t e r years was to be impressed w i t h C i v i c Beauty i d e a s , probably h e l d values, s i m i l a r to the f a i r l y a f f l u e n t r e s i - dents of Grandview,and because organized ratepayers wielded some p o l i t i c a l power, i t i s not s u r p r i s i n g that the Board requested the Ratepayers Assoc- i a t i o n to canvas t h e i r d i s t r i c t f o r a consensus on the design f o r V i c t o r i a Park. I n e v i t a b l y , i n 1911, Grandview Park was designed as a very ornamental park. These ideas of increased c i v i c p r i d e o r i g i n a t e d w i t h the C i t y B e a u t i f u l i n the U.S. and perhaps to a l a r g e r e x t e n t , the C i v i c Art movement i n B r i t a i n , which was more concerned w i t h ornamental flower gardens as a part of s t r u c - tured c i v i c improvements. The Park Board was concerned about other parts of the c i t y as w e l l . Between 1909 and 1913, the Board asked the c i t y ratepayers on a few occasions f o r permission to r a i s e funds f o r the purchase of land f o r parks. Each time, - 1 7 7 - the ratepayers enthusiastically supported-the Park Board's desire to acquire land. Although this expansion was impressive to many citizens, there was not much thought put into the design and function of these parks and in most cases, they were not touched u n t i l the 1920's. The overall desire in that era, was to acquire land. In 1910 the Park Board did start negotiations with the munici- palities of South Vancouver and Point Grey to.purchase L i t t l e Mountain from the CPR, but that was not to come about u n t i l 1928. The Park Board acquired land in 1908 on the north arm of Burrard Inlet, directly across from Barnet, and close to where Belcarra Park is today. The Board acquired i t as a pic- nic and camping ground. Although Admiralty Park was developed very slowly, i t did.indicate that the Park Board was thinking toward the future when Van- couver would be a large city. Playgrounds and Public Beaches In comparison to other West Coast c i t i e s , Vancouver was slow to provide playgrounds. The idea of play areas for children was relatively new, because,while Paxton in Birkenhead Park, and Olmsted in the design for Central Park, set aside "playground' areas" these were for organized adult games rather than children's activities. B i l l McKee suggests that the idea for super- vised children's playgrounds arose from the Chicago World's Fair and then diffused across the continent.43 In Vancouver's early days the school playgrounds were used for children's play. In 1907 the Park Board added six swings at the Lord Roberts school grounds, their f i r s t involvement specifically with children's activities. -178- Concerned c i t i z e n s formed the J u v e n i l e P r o t e c t i o n Agency to attempt to abate the j u v e n i l e delinquency problem i n Vancouver i n the e a r l y 1900's. This group was outspoken about the f a c t that they d i d not see parks s o l e l y f o r the sake of r e c r e a t i o n , but a l s o as a " t o o l f o r s o c i a l i z i n g youth through supervised r e c r e a t i o n . " 4 4 In a l e t t e r to the Park Board, George Healy, the Chairman of the Playground Committee of the J u v e n i l e P r o t e c t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n requested that the c i t y i n v e s t i g a t e the l a c k of playgrounds i n Vancouver, and he r e f e r r e d the Board to the e x c e l l e n t ex- amples of supervised playgrounds i n San Francisco and Los Angeles. 4 ^ The J u v e n i l e P r o t e c t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n approached the Board i n March of 1910, requesting playground p r o v i s i o n s at the H a r r i s Street Grounds, l a t e r to be c a l l e d McLean Park. The Park Board agreed, but because the C o u n c i l had not provided any funds f o r t h i s conversion,,it was July, 1912 before the f a c i l i t i e s were i n s t a l l e d . Despite the C o u n c i l and Park Board being domin- ated by the wealthy business community who l i v e d i n the West End, the f i r s t park to have c h i l d r e n ' s playground f a c i l i t i e s was i n the East End of Van- couver. Although i t was not supervised, i t was a p o s i t i v e step forward. Although a second playground was planned f o r Robson Park i n Mount Pleasant, the coming war p r o h i b i t e d the expansion at that time. Immediately a f t e r the war the Vancouver Gyro Club, a men's s e r v i c e c l u b , l i k e t h e i r American counterparts, began to become i n v o l v e d i n the p r o v i s i o n of p l a y - grounds. 4 ^ They a p p l i e d enough pressure to cause a growing c i t y - w i d e demand f o r supervised c h i l d r e n ' s playgrounds. In 1922 the widow Ceperley, remembering the wish of Mr. Ferguson, her b r o t h e r - i n - l a w , l e f t money to the c i t y to construct playgrounds s i m i l a r to those she had seen i n Portland.. The Ceperley Playgrounds -179- became a key element i n Vancouver's Park system. The o r i g i n s of the i d e a f o r supervised c h i l d r e n ' s playgrounds were d e f i n i t e l y from the United States. I f i t has o r i g i n a t e d at the f a i r i n Chicago, i t had q u i c k l y spread to a l l parts of the country i n c l u d i n g the West Coast. The J u v e n i l e P r o t e c t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n s and Mrs. Ceperley both looked to c i t i e s along America's West Coast f o r models to emulate. Long before the f i r s t Park Board was e l e c t e d , the r e s i d e n t s of Vancouver, e s p e c i a l l y those of B r i t i s h background, were swimming at Second Beach i n Stanley Park and at K i t s Beach. As e a r l y as 1891, the Vancouver Trade and Labour Council (dominated by people of E n g l i s h background) com- p l a i n e d to c o u n c i l about the l a c k of c l e a r e d beaches. 4 7 In 1895, the C i t y , backed by the Trades and Labour C o u n c i l and the wealthy r e s i d e n t s of the West End,(who would n a t u r a l l y p r e f e r a p u b l i c beach to i n d u s t r y on the E n g l i s h Bay s h o r e l i n e ) approached the Federal Government f o r the t i t l e to the foreshore. The C i t y was advised that i t would need a u t h o r i z a t i o n from s h o r e l i n e property owners, and because the economy was depressed and i t was u n l i k e l y that the C i t y could purchase the necessary permission, the proposal was temporarily abandoned. As the economy picked up at the t u r n of the cen- t u r y , the C i t y i n i t i a t e d the long term p r o j e c t of purchasing l o t s along Beach Avenue as they became a v a i l a b l e . By 1904 when the Park Board " a s c e r t a i n e d that the E n g l i s h Bay beach was i n c i t y hands" and when i t looked l i k e an important t o u r i s t a t t r a c - t i o n , i t i n v i t e d r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s from C i t y C o u n c i l , the Board of Trade, the Trades and Labour C o u n c i l and the T o u r i s t A s s o c i a t i o n to o f f e r suggestions f o r improvements to the beach. A p l e b i s c i t e was h e l d due to the o p p o s i t i o n -180- of the wards f a r t h e s t from the sea. In 1907 however, a by-law was passed by the c i t y v o t e r s to make these improvements because; there was a bigger tax base due to growing p r o s p e r i t y ; the s t r e e t car system was s u b s t a n t i a l l y im- proved; and the Park Board, i n c o l l a b o r a t i o n w i t h other groups,was able to present a s p e c i f i c plan i n c l u d i n g a p i e r and bathing house. K i t s Beach, as mentioned p r e v i o u s l y , was a l s o very popular w i t h r e s i d e n t s of P o i n t Grey. In 1914 i t a c t u a l l y surpassed E n g l i s h Bay as the most used p u b l i c beach. Elaborate plans f o r a p i e r and a formal garden were never a c t u a l i z e d due to the wartime economy i n 1914. Apart from the idea f o r a formal garden at K i t s Beach i n 1914, which was obviously i n f l u e n c e d by the C i t y B e a u t i f u l schemes of that time, the whole development and push f o r p u b l i c beaches l i k e l y came from the B r i t i s h p o p u l a t i o n i n Vancouver. Swimming i n the sea i s something that the B r i t i s h have done f o r c e n t u r i e s , and was.not something that was r e a d i l y t r a n s f e r r e d to America. In the f i r s t decade of the 20th century when Van- couver was s o l i c i t i n g ideas f o r the development of i t s beaches, c i t y o f f i c i a l s contacted t h e i r counterparts i n S e a t t l e f o r i n f o r m a t i o n . They were s u r p r i s e d to l e a r n that S e a t t l e had not developed i t s beaches at a l l 1 4 8 In Norbert McDonald's a r t i c l e , "Population Growth and Change i n S e a t t l e and Vancouver", he notes that there were more f o r e i g n born people i n Vancouver than i n S e a t t l e at the t u r n of the century. (The l a r g e s t group was from the B r i t i s h I s l e s ) . The l a r g e s t group of f o r e i g n born people that came to S e a t t l e during 1900 - 1910 were Scandinavians. This group however, d i d not tend to have a profound a f f e c t on the p o l i t i c a l and s o c i a l development of the c i t y . From t h i s evidence, i t could be argued that S e a t t l e experienced - 1 8 1 - "the m e l t i n g pot" phenomenon w h i l e Vancouver experienced more of a " c u l t u r a l m o s a i c , " 4 9 The B r i t i s h were an outspoken group and, through t h e i r t r a d i t i o n of sea b a t h i n g , i n f l u e n c e d the development of Vancouver's p u b l i c beaches. -182- FOOTNOTES 1 Norbert McDonald, "A C r i t i c a l Growth Cycle f o r Vancouver 1900 - 1914," B.C. Studies 17, (Spring 1973); 26 2 A d d i t i o n a l Manuscript, 54 V o l . 13, Stanley Park F i l e s . 3 Major J.S. Matthews, Vancouver H i s t o r i c a l J o u r n a l ( C i t y of Vancouver: Archives Society of Vancouver, January 1958), p. 66. ^ I b i d . , p. 66. 5 C i t y of Vancouver, Park Committee Minutes, Volume 1, June 1891. (Hereafter papers i n the Vancouver Park Committee or Parks Board p u b l i c record u n i t w i l l be c i t e d as R.G. 7 [Record Group 7 3 ) . 6 I b i d . , May 26, 1893. 7 McDonald, p. 26. 8 Matthews, pp. 18 - 21. ^ Edward Gibson, "The Impact of S o c i a l B e l i e f on Landscape Change: A Geographical Study of Vancouver" (Ph.D. d i s s e r t a t i o n , U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1971), p. 109. 1 0 I b i d . , p. 110. 1 1 McDonald, p. 27. 1 2 W i l l i a m McKee, "The H i s t o r y of the Vancouver Park System 1886 - 1929" (Masters T h e s i s , U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1976), p. 46. 1 3 McKee, p. 46. 1 4 I b i d . , p. 51. -183- 15 Deadman's I s l a n d was the s i t e of the great b a t t l e between northern and southern t r i b e s , which culminated i n two hundred w a r r i o r s v o l u n t e e r i n g to be exchanged f o r captured women and c h i l d r e n . A l l the w a r r i o r s were put to death. F i r e flowers sprang up where they f e l l , f r i g h t e n i n g the foe i n t o r e t r e a t . They were l i v i n g tombstones of the Indian w a r r i e r s . Hence i t s name, Deadman's I s l a n d . E r i c N i c o l , E r i c N i c o l ' s Vancouver (Vancouver Doubleday Canada L t d : 1970), p. 22. 16 "Deadman's I s l a n d " Vancouver D a i l y P r o v i n c e, 28 November 1911. 17 18 McKee, pp. 107 - 108. "Hands Off Stanley Park, Their Slogan", Vancouver D a i l y P r o v i n c e , - 20 December 1912. 1 9 Gibson, P. 118. ^ I b i d . , p. 111. Norbert McDonald, "Population Growth and Change i n S e a t t l e and Vancouver", P a c i f i c H i s t o r i c a l Review 39 No. 3 (August 1970): 309. 22 C i t y of Vancouver, O f f i c e of the C i t y C l e r k , Inward Correspondence, Volume 1, P r o v i n c i a l Government 1888 f i l e , F.G. Vernon to David Oppenheimer, Mayor, November 20, 1888. (Hereafter C i t y C l e r k ' s Inward Correspondence w i l l be c i t e d as R.G. 2 A l fRecord Group 2, S e r i e s A l } ) . 2 3 McKee, p. 63. I b i d . , p. 64. 2 5 R.G. 2, B l , Volume 15, June 15, 1908, p. 401. I b i d . , September 21, 1908, p. 526. McKee, p. 66. R.G. 2 B l , Volume 17, October 10, 1910, p. 375. 24 26 27 28 -184- 2 9 McKee, p. 67. Hastings Townsite amalgamated w i t h the C i t y i n January, 1911. 3 1 McKee, p. 68. 3 2 R.G. 2 A l , Volume 52, Park Board 1914 f i l e , W.H. Boggs, Secretary Park Board to Mayor, May 14, 1914. 3 3 McKee, p. 70. I b i d . , p. 70. R.G. 2 B l Volume 6, May 28, 1894, p. 95. R.G. 2 D2, Volume 1, January 9, 1902, p. 162. 37 I b i d . , September 20, 1902, p. 165. McKee, p. 81. I b i d . , p. 82. I b i d . , p. 82. I b i d . , p. 83. I b i d . , p. 83. I b i d . , p. 91. I b i d . , p. 89 34 35 36 38 39 40 41 42 43 44 ^ 5 R.G. 7 Correspondence, 1908-10 f i l e George H. Healey to Chairman Park Board, J u l y 31, 1908. -185- 4 6 The Gyro Club was o r i g i n a l l y an American men's o r g a n i z a t i o n that was i n t e r e s t e d i n American c u l t u r a l development. ' 4 7 R.G. 2 B l , Volume 4, November 23, 1891, p. 577. 48 Norbert McDonald, P r o f e s s o r of H i s t o r y , U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, Vancouver, telephone i n t e r v i e w , August 1979. 4 9 McDonald, "Population Growth", p. 309. - 1 8 8 - - R l - P U N of COAL HAMOL», VANCOUVO. I L L U S T K A T l O M lo MA VM<E>OM *S P L A N FOR C O A L . H A R B O U R i q i e . VA^J C o u v E R C V T V ARCtV i vl E£> M O W M R . M A W S O N W O U L D I M R R O V L G O A L H A R B O R ! m. - f^. VT- m 2 ^ i f k e , n t " e o t ^ n c e . b , a.'-proposed h u g e s t a d i u m p l a n n e d fo s e a t 4 0 0 0 0 p e o &i tons-to. c o n v e r t . ' ; t h e ' u p p e r . : ; e n d / o f ; C o a l H a r b o r j a t a a ^ w a t o l a k ^ T Q i S b t S -.a s t a d i u m . , s o m e w h a t .on-.tne-.H-np, U „ „ , „ = t 0 j • w . , c „ -.-i--- , .;,. cu.uvi V v5'?S T h i s r e p r e s e r i Mr.;MawTOtpfpIL_. . , . . . . ^ < , - , . u p ^ c ^ ; ^ he.would;build.'.a.sradium,...s.omewhat o n '.the'.lines h e r e , ' s u g g e s t e d . ' R e f e r e n c e t o 7 ' t h e . l a s t vpage o f 1 t K r s 1 piper wiU\'sc'ow<;an o u t l i n e - plan''.'of -the layout-for t h i s - s e c t i o n ; o f ; t h e p a r k a s ; M r . M a w s o n . w o u l d ' m a k e i i i over o n •• a ^ c ^ g r e h e n s i v e . scheme.', e x t e n d i n g o v e r m a n y years;} T h e s t a d i u m is-shown:.as t h e ' s e n u - c i r c u l a n enclosure; near;, t h e c e n t r e o f ' t h e l o w e r ' p a r t .of the- p l a n •on-gager-26.' ' .̂-Mâ son/prô sestohave'this b u i l a - n g placed o n a.line with Georeia'street acroIs:the pr&cVed - W a t e r ^ : ^ W O u l d ^ f ^ a n a t u r a ^ l ^ i o r y . museurn. f o r B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a for a l i l i m t ^ e ̂ ' , I L L U S T R A T I O N 7 M A V M S O M ' S -PLA/V! F O R S T A X > 1 U H A N P M U S g U M \ N C O A L H A R B O U R . V A N C O U V E R C I T V A R C t + l V 7 e S . -133- ^ O r n a m e n t a l statue, 180 feet h i g h , .to:rise f r o m the'cencre cf the pre pose'difresh. water-lake.- in ..Goal H a r b o r . , . T h i s statue w o u l d be p l a c e d h a line..with the centre of Georgia, street. -iPlwBBiBfe.V>V:.V ; I LL.USTRATVOM 8 MAVM-BOi^S. pLAM TOR. O B U S K A T ENTRANC& TO STAN UG^f T^AfUd. VAMCocjLMGR C l T ^ ARCtAiV6S - m - - 1 9 7 - - / < ? 8 - HA 5 r / j V G S S 7 " P £ £ T C I T Y A R C H I V E S " 1 1 1 | . 1 — , _ CITY HilL I U - U S T R A T I O M 13 V A M C O ^ v e - R Ev+ U B r f l O M ^ U N P S R l S \ V A M C O U V / G R Cljvy A R C H I E S - 2 0 0 - M A P 5 VANCOUVER PENINSULA 1890: Residential Spaces of Founding Groups Sources: Kerr 1943 and Holiday Supplement to Vancouver Daily and Weekly World 1890 Boie map from Nalional Topographic Serres 1:25000 fheeh 92G/6o ond /6b. A.S.I.. ( C f 1961 Note: The flow l i n e s indicate the d i r e c t i o n of founding group expansion. A comparison of Vancouver City Directories for the 1890's and 1920's w i l l document s p e c i f i c cases o f families migrating from the Eastern Canadian and Organized Labour areas to Point Grey and South Vancouver r e s p e c t i v e l y . V A M C o u L v j e R P E H I M S U L A 18^0. -201- CHAPTER VI SUMMARY AND CONCLUSIONS The Development of the P u b l i c Park The h e r i t a g e of the North American p u b l i c park i s deeply rooted i n the Englishman's t r a d i t i o n a l love of the r u r a l countryside. The B r i t i s h never completely accepted the very formal garden designs modelled on Ren- aissance garden a r t , and when the l i t e r a r y and a r t i s t i c leaders began to advocate the v i r t u e s . i 6 f man and nature i n the 18th century, the landscape designers began to create extremely n a t u r a l i s t i c landscapes f o r t h e i r c l i e n t s . C a p a b i l i t y Brown and h i s development of the "Picturesque Landscape" was the extreme example of t h i s love of nature. His landscapes were s o f t w i t h rounded shapes i n a sweeping s e t t i n g which were almost completely devoid of colour except f o r v a r i a t i o n s of green. Modern g o l f courses are r a t h e r l i k e P i c - turesque Landscapes. Claudius Loudon, i n the e a r l y 19th century developed the B r i t i s h landscape one step f u r t h e r . He recognized the B r i t i s h d e s i r e f o r p r i v a c y , and thus created gardens w i t h . s m a l l e r s c a l e d s e c t i o n s d i s p l a y i n g s p e c i f i c e x o t i c p l a n t specimens a v a i l a b l e because of the recent increase i n world t r a v e l . I t was l a r g e l y the Gardenesque design s t y l e , w i t h some n o t i c e a b l e Picturesque c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s , that was used f o r the V i c t o r i a n parks i n B r i t a i n during the 19th century. The f i r s t p u b l i c parks i n England r e s u l t e d from the negative e f f e c t s of the i n d u s t r i a l r e v o l u t i o n . The d e s i r e to a l l e v i a t e bad l i v i n g c o n d i t i o n s together w i t h the e s t a b l i s h e d n a t u r a l landscape design t r a d i t i o n produced a n a t u r a l i s t i c p u b l i c park i n which one would " r e t r e a t " to nature. This " e s c a p i s t " theme was passed across the A t l a n t i c to the Americans, where i t was a l s o used to j u s t i f y the existence of urban p u b l i c parks. The e a r l y American urban park -202- l i k e the E n g l i s h park, "seemed to be a r e s u l t of and not a s o l u t i o n to c i v i c i l l s " . 1 In P a r i s , the f i r s t parks designed f o r the p u b l i c were created when Napoleon I I I and Georges Haussmann completely redesigned the c e n t r a l urban s t r u c t u r e of P a r i s i n the e a r l y 19th century. They were not created as a r e a c t i o n to i n d u s t r i a l i z a t i o n (which had not, as y e t , occurred i n P a r i s ) , but as an attempt to rejuvenate•the c i t y and were used to l i n k green c o r - r i d o r s and important f o c a l p o i n t s i n the c i t y . The P a r i s i a n s have always been very urbane people, and t h e i r love of P a r i s and t h e i r support of p u b l i c open spaces has r e s u l t e d i n a park system that i s a very p o s i t i v e and essen- t i a l part of the urban s t r u c t u r e . Although the Bois de Boulogne, the Bois de Vincennes, and the other former parks of the n o b i l i t y were redesigned at t h i s time along the E n g l i s h model at the s p e c i f i c request of the Emperor, the o v e r a l l park system has obvious formal elements that make i t very d i s t i n c t i v e from the B r i t i s h open space system. The French sence of c i v i c p r i d e and f l a i r f o r f o r m a l i t y surfaced i n the United States at the end of the 19th century i n the Beaux A r t s i n s p i r e d C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement. Although the movement d i d not change the o v e r a l l design of p u b l i c parks i n the U.S., i t i n f l u e n c e d the design of the entrance to many parks and the manner i n which parks were pre- sented as an important component of the urban f a b r i c . Andrew Jackson Downing and F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted were tremendously important i n the development of urban parks i n the U.S. because they chose to develop t h e i r parks on the B r i t i s h n a t u r a l landscape model. Olmsted was s u c c e s s f u l i n adapting these p r i n c i p l e s to the American landscape, but h i s w r i t i n g s on h i s s o c i a l theory expressed the i n t e n t to create a park where the population could "escape t o " . Perhaps the most s i g n i f i c a n t American —203 - r c o n t r i b u t i o n to the p u b l i c park movement was the establishment of park systems i n the l a s t part of the 19th century. Olmsted and h i s f o l l o w e r s began to de- s i g n park systems i n c i t i e s from the east to west coast which attempted to i n t e g r a t e green space i n t o the c i t y s t r u c t u r e w h i l e t a k i n g advantage of the n a t u r a l topographic f e a t u r e s . The Canadian case i s somewhat d i f f e r e n t . While Canadian urban parks l a r g e l y r e f l e c t the B r i t i s h n a t u r a l landscape h e r i t a g e , they were not created as a response to u n s a t i s f a c t o r y l i v i n g c o n d i t i o n s i n the c i t i e s . They were u s u a l l y p a r c e l s of land granted from the f e d e r a l government which were formerly defence posts or t r a i n i n g grounds f o r the m i l i t a r y . Canadians d i d not seem to h i r e "experts" to design parks and c e r t a i n l y d i d not have a " F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted" who a f f e c t e d the design of p u b l i c parks across the country. Vancouver's Park Landscape to 1913 In 1914, Vancouver had a growing park system that c o n s i s t e d of the j e w e l , Stanley Park, v a r i o u s neighbourhood parks and r e c r e a t i o n grounds, and the p u b l i c bathing beaches. By t h i s time the Park Board was no longer i n v o l v e d i n the management of Hastings Park, because i t s use as a p i c n i c ground and pro- menade was pre-empted by the e x h i b i t i o n and r a c i n g a c t i v i t i e s of the E x h i b i - t i o n A s s o c i a t i o n . The b a s i c design features of Stanley Park were developed i n the i n i t i a l years between 1886 and 1900. These c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s i n c l u d e d the park d r i v e running around the periphery of the park; the walking t r a i l s through the heart of the park; the Brockton P o i n t A t h l e t i c F i e l d s ; the r e l a t i v e l y formal entrance to the park w i t h the nearby zoo; and the Second Beach bathing area. -204- During the boom years of 1900 to 1913, these features were f u r t h e r developed i n the s t y l e that was r e f l e c t i v e of the current a t t i t u d e s h e l d by the i n - f l u e n t i a l c i t i z e n s of Vancouver at that time. Because both the Park Board and C i t y C o u n c i l were dominated by businessmen, the development of the park system was not only a concern f o r the needs of the community, but was a prac- t i c a l , economic and p o l i t i c a l s o l u t i o n as w e l l . The a c q u i s i t i o n and development of the neighbourhood parks was u s u a l l y the r e s u l t of lobbying by the ward ratepayers. S i m i l a r l y , the c r e a t i o n of supervised c h i l d r e n ' s playgrounds i n the 1920's and the develop- ment of Second, E n g l i s h Bay and K i t s i l a n o Beaches i n the e a r l y 1900's hap- pened only a f t e r p a r t i c u l a r groups provided the impetus f o r these f a c i l i t i e s . I t appears that although Vancouver had a growing park system that was blessed w i t h the possession of magnificent n a t u r a l f e a t u r e s , t h i s sytem was not the r e s u l t of an e x t r a o r d i n a r y a p p r e c i a t i o n of the value of parkland or the r e s u l t of a w e l l formulated p o l i c y or design scheme. However, the Vancouver park system, by and l a r g e , experienced very favourable incremental development that was based on the idea that the n a t u r a l design s t y l e was best s u i t e d to p u b l i c parks. These n a t u r a l landscapes were l a t e r adaptable to more a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n a l p u r s u i t s such as c h i l d r e n ' s playground f a c i l i t i e s , t e n n i s c o u r t s , and b a l l f i e l d s . A t t i t u d e s The e a r l y development of Vancouver's p u b l i c park system was i n - fluenced by the a t t i t u d e s held by the people l i v i n g i n the c i t y at that time. As i n America, the pioneer i n s t i n c t had.encouraged the "mania f o r p r i v a t e property" and the p r i n c i p l e of i n d i v i d u a l i s m and c a p i t a l i s m . Because the - 2 0 5 - C i t y f a t h e r s saw parks as a means and opportunity f o r promoting t h e i r "great c i t y " , they were eager to " a c q u i r e " l a n d . The simple a c q u i s i t i o n of land was a fundamental goal of the Park Board that plagued i t s operation f o r many years. In the c i t y records there i s no evidence that there was any thought given to the design of the parkland that was acquired, or to the s p e c i f i c f u n c t i o n that the parkland was to serve. At the opening speeches f o r Stanley Park, Mayor Oppenheimer expressed the d e s i r e to u n i t e a r t w i t h nature i n Stanley Park, but i t i s d o u b t f u l that the Mayor had a c l e a r conception of what he con- s i d e r e d a r t , or what he wanted i n the way of design f o r the park. The c i t i - zens of Vancouver a l s o supported t h i s d e s i r e f o r the a c q u i s i t i o n of land f o r park purposes,by passing almost a l l p l e b i s c i t e s put before them. The a c q u i s i t i o n of Stanley Park d i d not come out of a need or r e a c t i o n to unfavourable l i v i n g c o n d i t i o n s , as i n some B r i t i s h and American c i t i e s . I t d i d not b e n e f i t from an e s t a b l i s h e d landscape design s t y l e . I t was a former m i l i t a r y reserve t h a t , l i k e other Canadian c i t y : p a r k s , was leased to the c i t y to be used as a p u b l i c park. The f i r s t C i t y C o u n c i l d i d not acquire the s i t e because of a determined p o l i c y to acquire land of n a t u r a l magnificence. I t acquired Stanley Park, because i t happened to be a s i t e which belonged to the Dominion Government, and was a s i t e that could not be used f o r commercial or development purposes. Hastings Park, Clark's Park and many of the other parks i n Van- couver's e a r l y park system were a l s o a r b i t r a r i l y acquired. With the exception of the beach parks, these s i t e s were conveniently a v a i l a b l e , and the character and f u n c t i o n of the parks were developed long a f t e r t h e i r a c q u i s i t i o n . -206- Influences Many of the design ideas and concepts for the development of Van- couver's parks were a result of the experience and values held by people l i v i n g in Vancouver who had varying national backgrounds. In the i n i t i a l years of the Vancouver park system (1886 - 1900) the local pioneers and the people from Eastern Canada made up the majority of the population, thus perhaps explaining the absence of a well formulated parks policy and the absence of a landscape design for Stanley Park. These people obviously did not feel the need for an elaborately designed park on the English natural landscape style, when the small city was completely surrounded by wilderness. The people fron Eastern Canada had Victorian middle class attitudes and enjoyed promenading and carriage riding. .The peripheral park drive there- fore, was a logical f i r s t development in the park. The British population, although small in the 1880's, also had an influence because the cricket pitch at Brockton Point was one of the f i r s t cleared areas in the park. Had people from Quebec migrated to Vancouver in the i n i t i a l years, there may have been some French influences on the Vancouver park landscape. After the depressed 1890's, the economy once again boomed in Van- couver. There was an influx of people from many countries, but the majority were those from the .British Isles and the United States. In Vancouver's early history the city developed a residential sector pattern much like other British Victorian c i t i e s . The British population in Vancouver was divided into the working class British and the middle class "British Canada", and each sector made a contribution toward Vancouver's p u b l i c parks. The working c l a s s possessed a d e f i n i t e set of s o c i a l b e l i e f s that were o f t e n expressed through s o c i a l o r g a n i z a t i o n s and p o l i t i c a l a c t i o n — s p e c i f i c a l l y through the Vancouver Trades and Labour A s s o c i a t i o n . The working c l a s s B r i t i s h were always pushing f o r a c t i v e r e c r e a t i o n space, and although t h e i r requests were o f t e n ignored, they.kept up a constant pressure that was e v e n t u a l l y e f f e c t i v e - i n the c r e a t i o n of a c t i v e game areas w i t h i n the parks. The B r i t i s h middle c l a s s were a l s o i n t e r e s t e d i n r e c r e a t i o n , and were o r i g i n a l l y r e s p o n s i b l e f o r the development of the Brockton Point a t h l e t i c f i e l d s . ( C r i c k e t had been a gentlemen's game f o r c e n t u r i e s ) . The B r i t i s h a l s o set a f i n e example f o r the r e s t of Vancouver w i t h t h e i r meticulous and c o l o u r f u l p r i v a t e gardens. Flower beds and shrubbery i n the Gardenesque s t y l e g r a d u a l l y became more and more p l e n t i f u l and obvious at the entrance to Stanley Park. Today, the formal flower gardens are a popular part of Stanley Park j u s t as they are i n Queen E l i z a b e t h Park, Van Dusen Gardens, and other c i t y parks. The promenading areas i n Stanley Park, J e r i c h o Park, and some of the beach parks were a B r i t i s h i n f l u e n c e . Many of these promenades were developed e a r l y i n Vancouver's h i s t o r y , such as the f i r s t t r a i l s cut i n Stanley Park, and the promenade was s t i l l popular i n the 20th century w i t h areas l i k e the board- walk at K i t s i l a n o Beach. The development of Vancouver's bathing beaches was a l s o a B r i t i s h i n f l u e n c e . The greatest i n f l u e n c e that the B r i t i s h experience had on Van- couver's parks, and p a r t i c u l a r l y Stanley Park, was a respect f o r that which i s n a t u r a l . The love of a n a t u r a l h e r i t a g e i s a p r i n c i p l e that the B r i t i s h passed -208- along to Canadians, and t h i s b i a s was to emerge on numerous occasions i n Vancouver when her c i t i z e n s vehemently opposed t h r e a t s to the n a t u r a l i n - t e g r i t y of Stanley Park. At the t u r n of the century, there emerged some American i n f l u e n c e s on Vancouver's park landscape and these i n f l u e n c e s grew as the century un- f o l d e d . The c r e a t i o n of an e l e c t e d Park Board i n Vancouver was an American i n f l u e n c e . Although the Park Board budget was handed down annually from the C i t y C o u n c i l , i t encouraged more autonomy w i t h i n the Park • Board and enabled a dedicated p e r s o n - l i k e Mr. Ferguson who had a great i n t e r e s t i n parks, to give a l l h i s spare time to the development of Stanley Park. L i k e the Americans, Vancouverites were i n v o l v e d i n the push f o r p r i v a t e enterprise,and the Park Board's domination by businessmen ensured that the t o u r i s t d o l l a r was a strong c o n s i d e r a t i o n i n the development of Stan- l e y Park. The hard s u r f a c i n g of the p e r i p h e r a l park d r i v e i n 1911, f o r example, enabled the establishment of a motorized bus s e r v i c e to take t o u r i s t s through the park. The incremental development of Hastings Park as an e x h i b i t i o n ground was an American i n f l u e n c e , and Vancouver was q u i c k l y absorbed i n t o the P a c i f i c Northwest F a i r c i r c u i t . The design and f u n c t i o n of the grounds were d i c t a t e d by American examples. The advent of the C i t y B e a u t i f u l movement i n Vancouver brought numerous design elements that had o r i g i n a t e d i n the ideas presented at the 1893 Chicago World's Columbia E x p o s i t i o n . Thomas Mawson's plan f o r the Head of Coal Harbour was an ambitious C i t y B e a u t i f u l design scheme and although i t -209- was f i n a l l y r e j e c t e d , elements such as the geometric flower beds and covered bandstand at the Malkin Bowl area i n 1915, are part of that legacy. Some of the areas at the Hastings E x h i b i t i o n grounds i n 1915 a l s o d i s p l a y e d the i n - fluences of C i t y B e a u t i f u l thought. The movement f o r supervised c h i l d r e n ' s playgrounds a l s o o r i g i n a t e d at the Chicago World's F a i r . I t was a movement that crossed the continent at the t u r n of the century although the f r u i t s of t h i s movement were not evident i n Vancouver u n t i l the 1920's. Vancouver's p r o x i m i t y to the American West Coast was very i n f l u e n t i a l and was i n c r e a s i n g l y r e f l e c t e d on the landscape. The C a l i f o r n i a bungalow s t y l e home o f f e r e d a l e s s formal way of l i v i n g w i t h indoor-outdoor rooms, (verandahs) and scores of these were b u i l t i n the e a r l y part of the century, p a r t i c u l a r l y i n K i t s i l a n o . ^ The C i t y Clerk's correspondence r e v e a l s that the Vancouver Park Board was i n frequent contact w i t h West Coast c i t i e s . They wrote to Bellingham to confer on the best s t r a i n of grass f o r a Northwest park; they modelled the Park Board's f i r s t Annual Report i n 1911 on S e a t t l e ' s example; and based on the success of the rose gardens i n P o r t l a n d , expressed the d e s i r e to make Vancouver the "Rose C a p i t a l of C a n a d a . T h e r e i s l i t t l e evidence of any a r c h i t e c t u r a l i n f l u e n c e s from Eastern Canada^ and the Park Board's cor- respondence revealed minimal contact w i t h Eastern Canadian Park a u t h o r i t i e s . The Community C i t i z e n p a r i t i c p a t i o n i n Vancouver i s not a phenomenon that de- veloped i n the middle of the 20th century. I t was a l s o a feature of the 1890's when the f i r s t t h r e a t to Stanley Park induced a f i e r c e b a t t l e between i n - d u s t r i a l i s t s and c o n s e r v a t i o n i s t s and r e s u l t e d i n a l l the e s t a b l i s h e d groups -2 l'O'- an d o r g a n i z a t i o n s i n Vancouver p u b l i c a l l y supporting one s i d e or the other. When Thomas Mawson's design f o r the Head of Coal Harbour was pre- sented and approved by the Park Board i n 1912, numerous groups again expressed t h e i r o p p o s i t i o n to the threat to the naturalness of the park. I t i s i n - t e r e s t i n g that the Vancouver C i t y B e a u t i f u l A s s o c i a t i o n was not a group ad- v o c a t i n g the American C i t y B e a u t i f u l design elements, but a group advocating the " b e a u t i f i c a t i o n of the c i t y " , and i n t h e i r minds Stanley Park was best represented by i t s n a t u r a l f e a t u r e s . This group was i n s t r u m e n t a l i n pre- venting Mawson's plan from being c a r r i e d out. In 1918, the Park Board of- f i c i a l l y adopted a p o l i c y s p e c i f y i n g that a l l f u t u r e development i n . t h e Park was to enhance i t s n a t u r a l d i g n i t y . Neighbourhood ratepayers groups were a l s o i n f l u e n t i a l i n the design of neighbourhood parks. The K i t s i l a n o Improvement A s s o c i a t i o n was i n s t r u m e n t a l i n the expansion of K i t s i l a n o Beach and l a t e r had a great deal to say i n the design and f u n c t i o n of K i t s Beach. S i m i l a r l y , the Mo ^ ^ ^ ^ £ g ^&;^^i ^ @ l i i i n r dview ratepayers p e t i t i o n e d the Board f o r improvements to C l a r k ' s Park and the a c q u i s i t i o n of V i c t o r i a Park i n Grandview. The ward system was very condusive to a c t i v e c i t i z e n p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n e a r l y Vancouver and f o r p o l i t i c a l reasons, organized ratepayers seemed to c a r r y considerable weight w i t h the C i t y C o u n c i l . Various n o n - p o l i t i c a l clubs were a l s o able to add to the Vancouver park landscape. The Brockton Point A t h l e t i c A s s o c i a t i o n developed the a t h l e t i c grounds at Brockton P o i n t i n the l a t e 1800's; the B.C. Jockey Club developed horse r a c i n g at Hastings Park; the J u v e n i l e P r o t e c t i o n Agency arid l a t e r the- t > - ; ' " Gyro Club advocated the p r o v i s i o n of supervised c h i l d r e n ' s playgrounds; and a f t e r the F i r s t World War, the Kiwanis club provided the Stanley Park Rose -211-' Garden. These groups as w e l l as the l o c a l c i t i z e n s groups were an important part of p u b l i c involvement i n the development of Vancouver's park system. Although there were flaws i n the Vancouver park system,the c i t i z e n s of Vancouver were tremendously proud of t h e i r parks. T o u r i s t brochures i n - e v i t a b l y concentrated on the magnificence of Stanley Park, and today i f one were to examine a d i s p l a y of postcards i n a Vancouver shop, a l a r g e percentage of them would undoubtably be of Stanley Park. L o c a l c i t i z e n s perceive the park as being one of the C i t y ' s f i n e s t a s s e t s . E r i c N i c o l sums up the a t t i t u d e that the people of Vancouver have, whether c o n s c i o u s l y , or unconsciously, t o - wards Stanley Park. " U n l i k e London's r o y a l parks, or the sporty ambiance of the B o i s d e Boulogne, Stanley Park means to the Vancouverite, a permanent preserve of wilderness and the v i r t u e s of l e sauvage heureux de bon. Older c i t i e s have long s i n c e f o r - gotten the n a t u r a l s t a t e of innocence that man's h a b i t a t i o n expunged. Vancouver holds i t i n t r u s t , z e a l o u s l y , w i t h i n the nine-mile perimeter of "the Park". Vancouver's c i t i z e n s h a l f expect t h e i r daughters to be v i o l a t e d , but he who l a y s a r a p i c i o u s hand on the Park i s begging f o r v i o l e n t avenging." 7 -212- FOOTNOTES -1- Jere Stuart French, Urban Green, C i t y Parks of the Western World (Dubuque, Iowa: Kendall/Hunt Publ. Co., 1973), p. 21. I b i d . , p. 5. 3 Edward Gibson, "The Impact of S o c i a l B e l i e f on Landscape Change: A Geographical Study of Vancouver" (Ph.D. t h e s i s , U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1971), p. 118. 4 Deryk Holdsworth, "House and Home i n Vancouver: Images of West Coast Urbanism, 1886-1929", i n The Canadian C i t y : Essays i n Urban H i s t o r y , ed. G. S t e l t e r and A. A r t i b i s e (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart L t d . , 1977), p. 195. W i l l i a m McKee, "The H i s t o r y of the Vancouver Park System 1886 - 1929" (Masters T h e s i s , U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1976), pp. 132-133. ° The Roger's Sugar R e f i n e r y , b u i l t i n the l a t e 1800's,is a magnificent example of B r i t i s h V i c t o r i a n I n d u s t r i a l a r c h i t e c t u r e which was a l s o used i n Eastern Canada. Rogers however, was an American who grew up i n New York and New Orleans, and because he played a l a r g e part i n the design of h i s r e f i n e r y , i t i s l i k e l y that the i n f l u e n c e was B r i t i s h , by way of the United States. 1 E r i c N i c o l , E r i c N i c o l ' s Vancouver (Vancouver Doubleday Canada L t d : ' 1970), p. 78. -213- BIBLIOGRAPHY UNPUBLISHED SOURCES P u b l i c Records Minutes C i t y of Vancouver. Council Minutes, V o l s . 1-21, 1886 to 1915. C i t y of Vancouver. Park Committee Minutes, V o l . 1, 1889 - 1890. ' C i t y of Vancouver. Park Board Minutes, V o l s . 2-3, 1891 to 1915. Correspondence C i t y of Vancouver. C i t y Clerk's Correspondence, Inward, V o l s . 1-58, •'' - 1886 to 1915. C i t y of Vancouver, C i t y Clerk's Correspondence, Outward, Vols. 1-42, '1891 to 1916. C i t y of Vancouver. Park Board Correspondence, V o l s . 1-17, 1888-1917. A d d i t i o n a l Manuscripts A d d i t i o n a l Manuscripts, 54 V o l . 13, Stanley Park F i l e s . Reports Buck, Frank. "Some E a r l y Pioneers of the Town and Rural Planning Move- ment i n Canada." Vancouver: Town Planning Commission, C i t y of Vancouver (Mimeographed) Mawson, The Honourable Thomas H. A.R.I.B.A. Report on A l t e r n a t i v e Schemes f o r the Improvement of Coal Harbour and Stanley Park, Vancouver, October, 1912. Theses Frye, Mary. "The H i s t o r i c a l Development of Municipal. Parks i n the U.S.: Concepts and Their A p p l i c a t i o n s . " Ph.D. d i s s e r t a t i o n , U n i v e r s i t y of I l l i n o i s , 1964. Gibson, Edward M.W. "The Impact of S o c i a l B e l i e f on Landscape Change: A Geographical Study of Vancouver." Ph.D. . d i s s e r t a t i o n , U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1971. -214- McFarland, E l s i e Marie. "A H i s t o r i c a l A n a l y s i s of the Development of P u b l i c Recreation i n Canadian Communities." Ph.D. d i s s e r t a t i o n , U n i v e r s i t y of I l l i n o i s , 1969. McKee, W i l l i a m , "The H i s t o r y of the Vancouver Park System 1886-1929." Master's Thesis, U n i v e r s i t y of V i c t o r i a , 1976. Meek, Margaret, "The C i t y B e a u t i f u l Movement i n Canada;" D r a f t . Master's Thesis, U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1971. I I . PUBLISHED SOURCES 1. Books General Barzun, Jacques. C l a s s i c , Romantic and Modern. Toronto, L i t t l e Brown and Co., 1943. Black, Eugene C., ed. V i c t o r i a n Culture and S o c i e t y . New York: Walker and Co.., 1974. B r i g g s , Asa. V i c t o r i a n C i t i e s . Harmondsworth, England: Penguin Books, 1963. Brown, Kenneth and Whitaker, Ben. Parks f o r People. London: Seeley S e r v i c e and Co., 1971. Burke, Gerald. Towns i n the Making. London: Edward Arnold Pub., L t d . , 1971. C l i f f o r d , Derek. A H i s t o r y of Garden Design. New York: F r e d r i c k A. Praeger Pub., 1963. Chadwick, George F. The Park and the Town: P u b l i c Landscape i n the 19th and 20th Centuries. London: A r c h i t e c t u r a l P r e s s , 1966. D o e l l , Charles E., and F i t z g e r a l d , Gerald B. A B r i e f H i s t o r y of Parks and Recreation i n the United States. Chicago: A t h l e t i c I n s t i t u t e , 1954. Dutton, Geoffrey. Founder of a C i t y . Melbourne: F.W. Ghesire, 1960. E l l e n s b u r g , Stephen. Rousseau's P o l i t i c a l Philosophy. I t h a c a : C o r n e l l U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1976. French, Jere S t u a r t . C i t y Park of the Western World: Urban Green. Dubuque, Iowa: Kendall/Hunt Pub.,Co., 1973. -215- Giedion, S i g f r i e d . Space, Time and A r c h i t e c t u r e : the growth of a new t r a d i t i o n . Cambridge: Harvard U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1967. H a l l , John C. Rousseau: An I n t r o d u c t i o n to h i s P o l i t i c a l Philosophy. Toronto: MacMillan Press L t d . , 1973. Heckscher, August. Open Space: The L i f e , of American C i t i e s . New York: Harper and Row Pub., 1977. Howard, Ebenezer. Garden C i t i e s of To-Morrow. London: Faber and Faber L t d . , 1946. J e l l i c o e , Geoffrey and Susan. The Landscape of Man. London: Thames and Hudson, 1975. L a u r i e , M i c h a e l . An I n t r o d u c t i o n to Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e . New York: American E l s e v i e r Pub. ,Co. ,Inc., 1975. Maslen, T.J. The Friend of A u s t r a l i a . London: Hurst, Chance and Co., St. Paul's Church Yard, 1830. Mawson, Thomas. C i v i c A r t : Studies i n Town P l a n n i n g , Parks, Boulevards, and Open Spaces. London: B.T. B a t s f o r d , 1911. Nash, Roderick. Wilderness and the American Myth. New Haven: Yale U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1967. Nuttgens, P a t r i c k . The Landscape of Ideas. London: Faber and Faber L t d . , 1972. Olmsted, F r e d r i c k Law Sr. Forty Years of Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e : C e n t r a l Park. E d i t e d by F.L. Olmsted J r . and Therdora K i m b a l l . Cambridge, Mass: The MIT P r e s s , 1928. . Landscape i n t o Cityscape: F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted's Plan f o r a Greater New York C i t y . E d i t e d by A l b e r t Fein.. New York: C o r n e l l U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1965. . Walks and Talks of an American Farmer i n England. London: D. Bogue, 1852. . P u b l i c Parks and the Enlargement of Towns. Cambridge, Mass: American S o c i a l Science A s s o c i a t i o n , R i v e r s i d e P r e s s , 1870. Osborn, F r e d e r i c J. Green B e l t C i t i e s . London: Evelyn, Adams and MacKay, 1969. Roper, Laura Wood. F.L.O. A Biography of F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted. Baltimore: John Hopkins U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1973. Rutedge, A l b e r t J . Anatomy of a Park. Toronto: McGraw H i l l Book Co., 1971. -216- Tobey, George. A H i s t o r y of Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e : the R e l a t i o n s h i p of People to Environment. New York: American E l s e v i e r Pub., CQ.^Inc., 1973. H i s t o r y and L i t e r a t u r e of. Vancouver Boam, Henry J . B r i t i s h Columbia: i t s H i s t o r y , People, Commerce, I n - d u s t r i e s and Resources. E d i t e d by A. Brown. London: S e l l s L t d . , 1912. Holdsworth, Deryk. "House and Home i n Vancouver: Images of, West Coast Urbanism, 1886-1929. "In the Canadian C i t y : Essays i n Urban H i s t o r y , pp. 186-207. E d i t e d by G. S t e l t e r and A. A r t i b i s e . Toronto: McClelland and Stewart L t d . , 1977. Johnson, P a u l i n e . Legends of Vancouver. Toronto: McClelland and Stewart L t d . , 1973. Matthews, J.S. The Naming and Opening of Stanley Park, 27 September 1818, and Appointment of F i r s t Park Commission. Vancouver: C i t y A r c h i v e s , 1948. Morley, Alan. Vancouver. From M i l l t o w n to M e t r o p o l i s . Vancouver: M i t c h e l l Press, 1961. N i c o l , E r i c . E r i c N i c o l ' s Vancouver. Vancouver: Doubleday Canada L t d . , 1970. 2. J o u r n a l A r t i c l e s Grimwood, P a u l ; S c o t t , Owen; and Warson, M a r i l y n . "Roots 5: George Laing-Landscape Gardener, Hamilton, Canada West, "Landscape A r c h i t e c t u r e i n Canada 4 (No. 1 A p r i l 1978). McDonald, Norbert. "A C r i t i c a l Growth Cycle f o r Vancouver 1900 - 1914." B.C. Studies 17 (Spring 1973): 26-42. McDonald, Norbert. "Population Growth and Change i n S e a t t l e and Van- couver." P a c i f i c H i s t o r i c a l Review 39 (August 1970): 297-321. Markham, Susan and Edginton, Christopher. "The Common of H a l i f a x , Canada's F i r s t Park." Recreation Canada No. 1 (February 1979): 12-17. Mawson, Thomas H. " P u b l i c Parks and Gardens." The Town Planning Review 1 (October 1910) : 205-211. S i m u t i s , L . J . " F r e d r i c k Law Olmsted". American I n s t i t u t e of Planners J o u r n a l 38 (September 1972): 276-284. -217- Pamphlets Archives S o c i e t y of Vancouver. Vancouver H i s t o r i c a l J o u r n a l . Vancouver, B. C., January 1958. Grant, Roland D. Vancouver, the Mecca of the T o u r i s t , the Commercial and Scenic Centre of B r i t i s h Columbia. Vancouver: Vancouver T o u r i s t A s s o c i a t i o n , 1903. P a c i f i c Coast F i r e Insurance Co. Our F i f t y Years 1890 - 1940. Brochure, Vancouver, B.C. Rawlings, W.S. Vancouver B r i t i s h Columbia Handbook of Parks, Playgrounds and Bathing Beaches. Vancouver: Board of Park Commissioners, 1925. Sage, Walter. Vancouver: The Rise of a C i t y . Vancouver C i t y Archives undated pamphlet. Vancouver C i t y Archives. Standard T o u r i s t ' s Guide to Stanley Park. C. H. Rayment D i s t r i b u t i n g Agent. Vancouver T o u r i s t A s s o c i a t i o n . 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work_l5m4zqbegzaw5i6tlyu6xmhu2i	----	Revolution by Degrees: Philip Sidney and <italic>Gradatio</italic> Revolution by Degrees: Philip Sidney and Gradatio Author(s): Alex Davis Source: Modern Philology, Vol. 108, No. 4 (May 2011), pp. 488-506 Published by: The University of Chicago Press Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/659832 . Accessed: 08/06/2011 07:25 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp. JSTOR's Terms and Conditions of Use provides, in part, that unless you have obtained prior permission, you may not download an entire issue of a journal or multiple copies of articles, and you may use content in the JSTOR archive only for your personal, non-commercial use. Please contact the publisher regarding any further use of this work. 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The University of Chicago Press is collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Modern Philology. http://www.jstor.org http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=ucpress http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1086/659832?origin=JSTOR-pdf http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=ucpress Revolution by Degrees: Philip Sidney and Gradatio A L E X D A V I S University of St. Andrews Loving in truth, and faine in verse my love to show, That the deare She might take some pleasure of my paine: Pleasure might cause her reade, reading might make her know, Knowledge might pitie winne, and pitie grace obtaine, I sought fit words to paint the blackest face of woe, Studying inventions fine, her wits to entertaine: Oft turning others’ leaves, to see if thence would flow Some fresh and fruitfull showers upon my sunne-burn’d braine. But words came halting forth, wanting Invention’s stay, Invention, Nature’s child, fled step-dame Studie’s blowes, And others’ feete still seem’d but strangers in my way. Thus great with childe to speake, and helplesse in my throwes, Biting my trewand pen, beating my selfe for spite, ‘‘Foole,’’ said my Muse to me, ‘‘looke in thy heart and write.’’1 The opening poem of Philip Sidney’s sonnet sequence Astrophil and Stella (1591) contains some of the most famous and memorable lines of his oeu- vre, indeed of sixteenth-century verse generally: much quoted, much excerpted, and anthologized, responded to and alluded to and even paro- died well into the next century.2 Much of the force of the poem seems to reside in its proleptic modeling of a scenario of readerly success. Astrophil says he hopes that ‘‘Pleasure might cause [Stella to] reade, reading might make her know, / Knowledge I would like to thank the anonymous Modern Philology readers for their comments on an earlier draft of this essay. 1. Philip Sidney, ‘‘Loving in truth’’ (Astrophil and Stella 1), in The Poems of Sir Philip Sidney, ed. William A. Ringler Jr. (Oxford: Clarendon, 1962), 165. Quotations of Sidney’s poetry are from this edition and are hereafter given in the text by page number. For Sidney’s prose, I refer to The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia (The Old Arcadia), ed. Jean Robertson (Oxford: Clar- endon, 1973), designated OA; The Countess of Pembroke’s Arcadia (The New Arcadia), ed. Victor Skretkowicz (Oxford: Clarendon, 1987), designated NA; and An Apology for Poetry, ed. R. W. Maslen (Manchester University Press, 2002). Further references to these editions are given parenthetically. 2. William Ringler refers to the final line of the sonnet as ‘‘the most quoted and least understood line of all Sidney’s poetry’’ (Poems of Sir Philip Sidney, 13). The most famous re- sponse to Astrophil and Stella 1 is probably George Herbert’s ‘‘Jordan (II)’’ (1633). � 2011 by The University of Chicago. All rights reserved. 0026-8232/2011/10804-0002$10.00 488 might pitie winne, and pitie grace obtaine.’’ These lines support dual points of reference. On the one hand, they gesture toward the fate of Astrophil’s poetry within the narrative that the sequence aims to chart, of Astrophil’s love for Stella; as such, the lines are fundamentally ironic, since the relationship is, in the end, a failed one. On the other hand, they can be read as referring to the life of the sequence outside the narrative arc that it describes. In this sense we are presented with a potent marriage of the literary and the amatory in which an account of the poems’ affective power and productivity is developed through their construction of Stella as a reader. Astrophil’s fantasy of the persuasive capacity of his verse stands as a potential surrogate for a far wider range of encounters with the text than the text itself describes. In An Apology for Poetry (1595), Sidney imagines himself into a similar position by way of voicing his reservations about contemporary lyric poems. ‘‘If I were a mistress,’’ he writes, ‘‘they would never persuade me they were in love’’ (113). So too in Astrophil and Stella, questions regarding the poem’s literary success are focused through the figure of the female reader. Here, however, the concomitant of this maneuver is the apparent rejection of the author as reader. The solutions to the compositional problems facing Astrophil, the ‘‘fit words’’ he searches for, are not, we are told, to be found within the pages of a book. It seems obvious that the disavowal of authorial reading in the opening poem of Astrophil and Stella is, on some level at least, thoroughly—wittily—disingenuous.3 For all its brilliance of invention, Sid- ney’s sonnet sequence is nothing if not the product of the intensive study of ‘‘others’ leaves.’’ The metrical ‘‘feete’’ of others are anything but ‘‘strang- ers’’ to this writer.4 On the contrary: Sidney’s refashioning of English verse earned him the reputation of being the ‘‘English Petrarch.’’5 That is, the significance of the poetic revolution he initiated was always positioned in relation to anterior, exotic models of composition, which Sidney was un- derstood to have domesticated (at whatever estranging cost to his own identity—notably, it is Astrophil himself who may figure in this poem as the black, ‘‘sunne-burn’d’’ racial outsider). 3. See, e.g., Germaine Warkentin’s ‘‘Sidney and the Supple Muse: Compositional Proce- dures in Some Sonnets of Astrophil and Stella,’’ in Sir Philip Sidney: An Anthology of Modern Criti- cism, ed. Dennis Kay (Oxford: Clarendon, 1987), 171–84, which points out that the poem is a variation on a commonplace theme, also to be found in (for example) the twentieth sonnet of Petrarch’s Canzoniere (1374). 4. For a dazzling reading of ‘‘feete’’ in relation to the poem’s metrics, see Catherine Bates, Masculinity, Gender and Identity in the English Renaissance Lyric (Cambridge University Press, 2007), 56–60. 5. On Sidney as ‘‘Our English Petrarke,’’ see the entry on Sir John Harington in Sidney: The Critical Heritage, ed. Martin Garrett (London: Routledge, 1996), 117. On the validity of this description, see Roger Kuin, Chamber Music: Elizabethan Sonnet-Sequences and the Pleasure of Criti- cism (University of Toronto Press, 1998), 161–62. 489Alex Davis Sidney and Gradatio Modern accounts of the poem tend to revolve around its closing line, in which Astrophil’s muse famously tells him, ‘‘Looke in thy heart and write.’’ I mean to explore the question of Astrophil and Stella 1’s theorization of the origins of the work of art from a slightly different perspective, one provided by the poem’s account of the work it hopes to perform. This is the wish expressed in Sidney’s opening quatrain and quoted above, that ‘‘Pleasure might cause her reade, reading might make her know, / Knowledge might pitie winne, and pitie grace obtaine.’’ In these lines, with their distinctive chainlike grammatical construction, Sidney is not only making use of one of his favorite literary mannerisms; he is also deploying a figure embedded in a complex tradition of use and reception that makes it a particularly apt rhetorical device with which to engage—or avoid—questions of literary authority and innovation. In what follows I want to develop the method of close attention to particular rhetorical figures as practiced in Renaissance rhetorical handbooks and extended by modern studies such as the volume Renaissance Figures of Speech.6 My aim is to discuss Sidney’s uses of gradatio, and the history that frames that device, in order to argue that Sidney’s poem shows its deepest and most inward understanding of this tradition when it converts it into the vehicle for its own displacement, directing our attention away from the question of others’ contributions to Sidney’s own inventiveness and toward a desired process of readerly seduction. The second and third lines of Astrophil and Stella 1 present a characteris- tically Sidnean combination of two rhetorical figures: anadiplosis on the one hand, and climax or gradatio on the other. Anadiplosis is the repetition of the last word or phrase of a line or clause or sentence at the beginning of the next. Taken alone, the figure may be relatively unobtrusive, particularly in texts as ornate as some of Sidney’s are. When in the New Arcadia (1593) Pyrocles exclaims, ‘‘Why lived I, alas? Alas why loved I?’’ (NA, 432), we may, in context, scarcely notice the repetition. But anadiplosis was important to Sidney. In the Apology for Poetry, he praises Cicero’s use of it: ‘‘Tully when he was to drive out Catiline, as it were with a thunderbolt of eloquence, often used that figure of repetition, Vivit. Vivit? Imo vero etiam in senatum venit, & c. Indeed, inflamed with a well-grounded rage, he would have his words (as it were) double out of his mouth, and so do that artificially which we see men do in choler naturally’’ (114). However, Sidney’s most idiosyncratic 6. Sylvia Adamson, Gavin Alexander, and Katrin Ettenhuber, eds., Renaissance Figures of Speech (Cambridge University Press, 2007). Gradatio is discussed on pages 9–10. See also Gavin Alexander’s Writing after Sidney: The Literary Response to Sir Philip Sidney, 1586–1640 (Oxford University Press, 2006) for further examples of this method. Sidney’s use of the figure of grada- tio has previously been discussed by B. J. Sokol (‘‘Figures of Repetition in Sidney’s Astrophil and Stella and in the Scenic Form of Measure For Measure,’’ Rhetorica 9 [1991]: 131–46). I have drawn on Sokol’s discussion in what follows, although our essays are directed to rather different ends. For a general discussion, see Lane Cooper, ‘‘The Climax,’’ Sewanee Review 32 (1924): 32–43. 490 M O D E R N P H I L O L O G Y and forceful uses of the trope come in combination with that of gradatio : the arrangement of words or phrases in order of increasing importance, whether from least to greatest or in order of time. In principle, the two figures are entirely independent—obviously so in the case of anadiplosis, but also with gradatio (as for instance in ‘‘veni, vidi, vici’’). However, early modern rhetoric manuals often couple the two to- gether or define the second in such a way that it involves the first. Thomas Wilson’s instances of ‘‘Gradacion’’ all in fact involve the knitting of clauses characteristic of anadiplosis. His first reads: ‘‘Labour getteth learnyng, learn- yng getteth fame, fame getteth honour, honour getteth blesse for euer.’’7 The same is true of George Puttenham’s discussion of ‘‘Clymaxe, or the Marching Figure.’’ Puttenham quotes from ‘‘one of our Epitaphes shewing how a very meane man by his wisdome and good fortune came to great estate and dignitie’’: ‘‘His vertue made made him wise, his wisdome brought him wealth, / His wealth wan many friends.’’8 Abraham Fraunce’s Arcadian Rhetorike (1588), meanwhile, discusses the figures one directly after the other, opening with the observation that ‘‘that which is in diuers sentences is either Anadiplosis, or climax.’’ ‘‘Anadiplosis, redoubling, or reduplication is when the same sound is repeated at the ende of the sentence goinge before, and in the beginning of the sentence following after.’’ ‘‘Climax, gradation, is a reduplication by diuers degrees and steps, as it were, of the same word or sound.’’9 Both are forms of ‘‘reduplication,’’ distinguished by the greater sense of progression in uses of climax, which is defined as much through its use of verbal repetition as by its delineation of sequence. It features, that is, almost as a subcategory of anadiplosis. Linked together, these two figures pinpoint the distinctive concatenating grammatical construction we find in the opening sonnet of Astrophil and Stella, describing a process that leads from pleasure to reading, from reading to knowledge, from knowledge to pity, and from pity to grace. We might note that it seems appropriate that a figure that presents a way of folding clauses and sentences into one another should operate most efficiently when it is itself combined with another trope.10 And we might also note the way in which both Wilson and Putten- ham use their account of the figures as an opportunity to embed in their 7. Thomas Wilson, The Arte of Rhetorique (London, 1553), Ee1r. 8. George Puttenham, The Arte of English Poesie (London, 1589), Aa1r. 9. Abraham Fraunce, The Arcadian Rhetorike (London, 1588), C6v–C8v. 10. John Hoskins pursues this self-referentiality even more explicitly. He discusses the two figures of repetition in a sequence and adds a third term to them: sorites, by which he means a linked and escalating sequence of logical reasoning. From anadiplosis to climax, and from cli- max to sorites, each containing the last while at the same time superseding it: this is itself an escalating series of the sort Sidney might have enjoyed describing. See John Hoskins, Directions for Speech and Style, ed. Hoyt H. Hudson (Princeton University Press, 1935), 12–13. Hoskins’s examples are all from the Arcadia. 491Alex Davis Sidney and Gradatio texts miniature narratives about the genesis of prosperity and the value of learning. Fraunce does something similar, and we will return to The Arca- dian Rhetorike later in this discussion when we explore some of the potential counternarratives implicit in this tradition. For the moment, though, we can simply observe that gradatio was one of Sidney’s favorite and most char- acteristic rhetorical figures.11 The New Arcadia opens with the two distraught shepherds Strephon and Claius discussing their love for the absent Urania. ‘‘Let us,’’ Claius exhorts Strephon, ‘‘think with consideration, and consider with acknowledging, and acknowledge with admiration, and admire with love, and love with joy in the midst of all woes’’ (NA, 4). Sidney’s use of the figure describes the process whereby Claius is drawn from heartbreak to a bittersweet, even joy- ful, and certainly more thoughtful psychological state. Once he begins to think, he necessarily considers; having considered, he must then acknowl- edge the fruits of his reflection to be the case, whereupon he can only admire that this is so—and so love infuses his misery with a sense of wonder that is also rational. Further examples abound in Sidney’s text, applied to the widest possible range of circumstances. Basilius’s counselor Philanax is a particular devotee. In the concluding trial scene, he attacks Pyrocles: ‘‘This man . . . from a man grew a woman, from a woman a ravisher of women, thence a prisoner’’ (OA, 387). Then he attempts to implicate Pyrocles and Musidorus in his prosecution of Gynecia: ‘‘Had she . . . no practice to lead her unto it? Or had she a practice without conspiracy? Or could she con- spire without somebody to conspire with?’’ (OA, 389). In his Rhetoric of Motives, Kenneth Burke comments on the sense of inevitability that gradatio often produces, and this is one of the principal effects of Sidney’s use of the trope.12 In the New Arcadia, Plangus lays eyes on his prisoner Erona for the first time: ‘‘Seeing, to like; and liking, to love; 11. Since for Fraunce, as for his fellow rhetoricians, using gradatio or climax usually involves anadiplosis as well, I will henceforth confine myself to just using the last term. I have favored gra- datio over climax, slightly against the preference of sixteenth-century writers, because it is the name for this figure of development and progression that best gestures toward its own future history in artistic practice. Gradus was to become the standard term for an instruction manual in the arts: a Gradus ad Parnassum was a Latin or Greek dictionary with quantities marked as an aid to verse composition, and the term was also used in musical instruction. 12. ‘‘I recall,’’ Burke writes, ‘‘a gradatio of political import, much in the news during the ‘Berlin crisis’ of 1948’’: ‘‘‘Who controls Berlin, controls Germany; who controls Germany con- trols Europe; who controls Europe controls the world.’ As a proposition, it may or may not be true. And even if it is true, unless people are thoroughly imperialistic, they may not want to control the world. But regardless of these doubts about it as a proposition, by the time you arrive at the second of its three stages, you feel how it is destined to develop—and on the level of purely formal assent you would collaborate to round out its symmetry by spontaneously will- ing its completion and perfection as an utterance’’ (Kenneth Burke, A Rhetoric of Motives [New York: Prentice-Hall, 1950], 58–59). 492 M O D E R N P H I L O L O G Y and loving, straight to feel the most incident effects of love: to serve and preserve’’ (NA, 301). And that is that: the jailer becomes the would-be res- cuer. The unfortunate Dido explains how Pamphilius has mistreated her, not just breaking off their relationship but also publicly declaring that he found her unattractive. ‘‘Was it was not enough for him,’’ she asks, ‘‘to have deceived me, and through the deceit abused me, and after the abuse for- saken me, but that he must now, of all the company, and before all the company, lay want of beauty to my charge?’’ (NA, 240). Dido answers her own question; in fact, her use of the rhetorical figures musters a sense of inevitability sufficient to make the question appear rhetorical. The abuse materialized through the deceit, and the forsaking seems to follow with similar consequence. So did Pamphilius really have to inflict that final twist of the knife? In a sense, yes. At any rate, the insult emerges perfectly smoothly from his previous derelictions of duty; each contains the next, as with the sections of a folding telescope. Sidney’s use of these figures delin- eates a sequence of cause and effect: knowledge leads to pity leads to grace; if we consider we must acknowledge, and then we must admire; to deceive is to abuse is eventually to forsake. Gradatio is the figure that deals with the ‘‘causeful’’ nature of things. (The word comes from a sestina offered in mourning of the [apparently] dead Basilius, which opens, ‘‘Since wailing is a bud of causeful sorrow, / Since sorrow is the follower of ill fortune ’’ [OA, 284].) It deals with processes, and it deals with them in a double way. On the one hand, it divides them into a series of perceptibly separate steps, arranged into distinct clauses. On the other, it articulates the connection between them so powerfully that one sometimes has the sense that they exist simultaneously, because each is continually implicit both in its prede- cessors and in its successors. The end of the process already exists in poten- tia, contained in its beginning; or, conversely, the beginning is to be under- stood as the mere prospective echo of its achieved end. As Patricia Parker notes, gradatio is also a figure rich in political poten- tial. Here she is making particular reference to a passage from the New Arca- dia about the nature of government, singled out by John Hoskins in his Directions for Speech and Style (ca. 1599) as an instance of the successful use of climax and anadiplosis that also offers the potential for a sorites, a logical argument, about the foundations of an orderly state. The passage Hoskins quotes reads: ‘‘There could be no government without a magistrate, and no magistrate without obedience, and no obedience where every one upon his own private passion, may interpret the doings of the rulers’’ (NA, 286). Parker comments: ‘‘Gradatio or concatenatio—the ‘stepping’ figure whose names already link it both to a ‘ladder’ and to a ‘chain’—is the rhetorical trope of ‘climbing’ illustrated by a political progression of ‘degrees.’ . . . Passages like this last, in which rhetorical gradation also becomes, with the simple addition of an ‘ergo,’ a form of logical progression, demon- 493Alex Davis Sidney and Gradatio strate how easily a figure adapted to rhetorical sequence and marshalling could become part of a series of things which ‘follow’ from one another in a ‘chain,’ including the ‘chain’ of government, or of being.’’13 Parker views the figure as potentially cognate with sixteenth-century justifications for political authority, hierarchy, and degree of the sort that interested E. M. W. Tillyard, and the connection seems logical enough. Yet it would be overly schematic to suggest that the figure must always develop in the direction of outlining some sort of great chain, particularly in the hands of a writer as politically sophisticated as Sidney.14 Consider the second sonnet of Astrophil and Stella, which constitutes a submerged linguistic-etymological pun on the words climax (Greek ‘‘ladder’’) and gradatio (Latin ‘‘the making of a series of steps’’).15 Not at first sight, nor with a dribbed shot, Love gave the wound, which while I breathe will bleed: But knowne worth did in mine of time proceed, Till by degrees it had full conquest got. I saw and liked, I liked but loved not, I loved, but straight did not what Love decreed: At length to Love’s decrees, I forc’d, agreed, Yet with repining at so partiall lot. Now even that footstep of lost libertie Is gone, and now like slave-borne Muscovite, I call it praise to suffer Tyrannie; And now employ the remnant of my wit, To make my selfe believe, that all is well, While with a feeling skill I paint my hell. (165–66) Astrophil looks back at the ‘‘footstep[s]’’ by which he was led into bond- age and the ‘‘degrees’’ (from gradus) by which he was subjected to love’s ‘‘decrees.’’ What we have here, then, is the superimposition of different lan- 13. Patricia Parker, Literary Fat Ladies: Rhetoric, Gender, Property (London: Methuen, 1987), 99. Hoskins’s example also features in David Norbrook’s ‘‘Rhetoric, Ideology and the Elizabe- than World Picture,’’ in Renaissance Rhetoric, ed. Peter Mack (Houndmills: St. Martin’s, 1994), 157. 14. Even Ulysses’ classic speech on degree in Troilus and Cressida actually deploys gradatio to describe the effects of ‘‘discord,’’ not the ascent to order: ‘‘Then everything includes itself in power, / Power into will, will into appetite, / And appetite, an universal wolf . . . Must make perforce an universal prey’’ (William Shakespeare, Troilus and Cressida, ed. Kenneth Palmer [London: Methuen, 1982], 1.3.119–23). 15. Compare As You Like It : ‘‘For your brother and my sister no sooner met, but they looked; no sooner looked, but they loved; no sooner loved, but they sighed; no sooner sighed, but they asked one another the reason; no sooner knew the reason, but they sought the rem- edy. And in these degrees they have made a pair of stairs to marriage’’ (William Shakespeare, As You Like It, ed. Agnes Latham [London: Methuen, 1975], 5.2.31–37). 494 M O D E R N P H I L O L O G Y guages and frames of reference: romantic, courtly, and political. To ‘‘call it praise to suffer Tyrannie’’ is at once the fate of the adoring lover, of the aspiring courtier, and of the political subject deprived of liberty. Astrophil has been incrementally reduced to the state of the ‘‘Muscovite’’ who loves his own subjection but who was born to it, as Astrophil was not. We get a rue- ful and semiresigned investigation of the psychology of living under ‘‘Tyran- nie’’ and the dual consciousness it imposes: a sort of sixteenth-century Dou- blethink. Astrophil devotes half of what remains of his wit to making his servitude comfortable for himself (‘‘to make my selfe believe, that all is well’’), and half of it to opening out the space of self-knowledge within which he can recognize that what he is suffering is indeed a sort of hell. The poem therefore bears the conceptual impress of a neo-Roman political discourse that organizes itself around a fundamental structural opposition between freedom and servitude.16 Yet it does not develop this interest in a theoretical fashion, decisively for or against any one term in the sixteenth-century polit- ical thinker’s grammar of available governmental options, be that monar- chy, republic, mixed constitution, or any other kind of state.17 Instead, the sonnet focuses its attention elsewhere, on the transitions between the fixed points of liberty and slavery. From seeing to liking, and from liking to loving, the poem charts the process by which Astrophil came to celebrate ‘‘Tyran- nie.’’ The outcome is a loss of freedom, but was the chain of cause and effect that produced that result itself coercive? We get a peculiar sense of mingled contingency and determinism. The distance between the stages—between seeing and liking, for example—seems individually so small that we might feel that at any point Astrophil might have ‘‘stepped’’ in a quite different direction; into distaste or indifference, for instance. And yet at the same time the end result seems somehow inevitable, or ‘‘forc’d.’’ We are given, at any rate, a lesson in the incremental nature of the political process: the ruin of Astrophil’s liberty is a revolution accomplished by degrees.18 16. See Quentin Skinner, Liberty before Liberalism (Cambridge University Press, 1998). Since a certain amount of sixteenth-century political thought existed in a relatively inchoate form, inhering as much in systems of continually circulated topoi and vocabularies as it did in care- fully articulated theories of government, Sidney’s deployment of the language of tyranny is therefore not quite as trivial or nonspecific as it might seem. 17. See, e.g., the discussion of forms of government in the opening book of Sir Thomas Smith’s De republica Anglorum, ed. Mary Dewar (Cambridge University Press, 1982). 18. Compare Fulke Greville’s account of Sidney’s intentions in writing the Arcadia. These were, ‘‘on the Monarch’s part, lively to represent the growth, state and declination of Princes, change of Government, and lawes; vicissitudes of sedition, faction, succession, confederacies, plantations, with all other errors, or alterations in publique affairs’’ (Fulke Greville, The Life of the Renowned S[i]r Philip Sidney [London, 1652], C1v). Again, the emphasis is on change and instability. The Arcadia seems to point less toward a catalog of fixed types of polity than to an analysis of the processes of self-estrangement by which one type of constitution risks becoming something other than itself. 495Alex Davis Sidney and Gradatio Looking at Sidney’s use of gradatio serves to focus our attention on a dis- tinctive facet of his imagination. The ultimate model for his more upwardly mobile uses of the trope may be Plato’s Symposium, with its description of the lover, ‘‘ever climbing aloft, as on the rungs of a ladder, from one to two, and from two to all beautiful bodies; from personal beauty he proceeds to beautiful observances, from observance to beautiful learning, and from learning at last to that particular study which is concerned with the beauti- ful and that alone.’’19 At the same time, though, the destination of these movements is more often than not a ‘‘hell’’ of abjection and despair. But it is the general interest in process and mutability that is as significant as any- thing else. Attention to Sidney’s interest in gradatio presents an important corrective to John Carey’s account of how the Arcadia’s rhetoric—particu- larly its use of figures like antimetabole —plays into the representation of individuals torn between irreconcilable extremes.20 Carey convincingly shows how Sidney’s imagination is drawn toward representations of psycho- logical and situational deadlock. But his broader implication is that the text is therefore somehow both agitated and yet fundamentally static. The char- acteristics Carey describes certainly exist. Gradatio, however, points in a rather different direction, toward Sidney’s interest in a world of temporal- ity and incessant change. Indeed, there is a sense in which Sidney’s entire literary practice is grounded in the interest in dynamism, in processes of modification, to which gradatio seems so well adapted. As we have seen, some of the most striking of Sidney’s uses of this figure are those applied to mental and emotional states. The effect gets to the heart of Sidnean psychology as expressed in the Apology for Poetry, the po- etics of which are underpinned by the belief that individuals can be pointed in one direction or another via a series of intermediate emotional states. If the Apology has a crucial verb, it may be ‘‘to draw’’: we are told that the ‘‘final end’’ of poetry is ‘‘to lead and draw us to as high a perfection, as our degen- erate souls . . . can be capable of ’’ (88); poetry ‘‘doth draw the mind more effectualy than any other art doth’’ (96); the likes of Orpheus had the power ‘‘to draw with their charming sweetness the wild untamed wits to an admiration of knowledge’’ (82); the enemies of poetry allege that it acts ‘‘with a siren’s sweetness drawing the mind to the serpent’s tale of sinful fancy’’ (102); and so on. Just as Urania draws Strephon and Claius toward higher contemplation, so poetry can draw erring humans to the exercise of moral virtue—not directly, but through its vivid representations of those 19. Plato, Symposium 211c, in Lysis; Symposium; Gorgias, trans. W. R. M. Lamb (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1991). 20. John Carey, ‘‘Structure and Rhetoric in Sidney’s Arcadia,’’ in Kay, Sir Philip Sidney, 245– 64. 496 M O D E R N P H I L O L O G Y virtues in action. (It seems telling that Sidney’s imagined detractors of po- etry are basically deploying the same theory, but in reverse.) Gradatio, then, is the literary trope with which Philip Sidney addresses questions of mediation, of process, and of change, whether these exist in the psychological or the public sphere. But Sidney would also have encoun- tered gradatio framed in ways that encouraged him to view it as a literary de- vice capable of registering process and change in the literary field itself— that is, as encoding the kind of complex cultural self-consciousness that Astrophil and Stella 1 both gestures toward and denies. Consider a passage that a humanistically trained sixteenth-century writer like Sidney would cer- tainly have been familiar with, from the ninth book of the Roman rhetori- cian Quintilian’s Institutio oratoria (ca. 95 CE), a discussion that needs to be quoted in full: Climax : Gradation, called in Greek climax, has a more obvious and conscious art about it, and accordingly should be used less often. It too is a figure of Addition [like asyndeton and polysyndeton], since it repeats what has already been said, and pauses on each earlier step before it proceeds to the next. Let me translate a very famous Greek original: ‘‘I did not say this, and then not make a proposal; I did not make a proposal, and then not undertake the embassy; I did not undertake the embassy, and then not persuade the Thebans.’’ There are traditional Latin instances as well: ‘‘Africanus’ energy gave him his excellence, his excellence gave him his glory, his glory gave him his rivals.’’ So Calvus: ‘‘So this no more means the end of extortion trials than it does of treason trials, nor of treason trials than of trials under the Lex Plautia, nor of the trials under the Lex Plautia than of trials for electoral bribery, nor of trials for electoral bribery than of trials under any of our laws.’’ It is to be found in the poets too, as in Homer’s passage about the sceptre, which he traces from Jupiter down to Agamemnon, and in our own tragic poet: From Jove, or so they say, came Tantalus, from Tantalus sprang Pelops, and from Pelops Atreus, who fathered all our family.21 Although it may not be immediately obvious, this is a highly self-con- scious and self-reflexive passage; it is much more than just the mere enu- meration of examples of a rhetorical trope, although its hidden complexity has entirely to do with the resonance of the examples. The verses from Homer that Quintilian so casually alludes to come in book 2 of the Iliad 21. Quintilian, The Orator’s Education, ed. and trans. Donald A. Russell, 5 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2001), 4:131–33, hereafter cited parenthetically. I have removed some editorial markings from the quotation. 497Alex Davis Sidney and Gradatio and are a description of Agamemnon’s scepter, the visible emblem of his authority. In George Chapman’s translation: In his hand, he did the Sceptre beare That Vulcan curiously made, and gaue to Iupiter : Ioue gave it to his messenger, that slew Saturnias spies And he to Pelops rendred it, renounde for cheualrie; Pelops, to great king Atreus ; And that king at his death Gaue it to Thyestes, rich in heards: Thyestes did bequeath The high successiue use thereof, to Agamemnons hands, To rule great Argos, and the powers of many sea-sieg’de lands.22 The Latin quotation ‘‘from our own tragic poet’’ that immediately follows the allusion to Homer traces exactly the same line of descent, from Jove to Tantalus, from Tantalus to Pelops, and from Pelops to Atreus. So if we know the Iliad well enough to be able to identify the passage about the scep- ter, our sense of the discussion might be transformed by our awareness of the covert parallel. The Latin lines are from a lost play, possibly by Naevius, on the theme of Iphigenia and are based on the opening of Euripides’ Iphi- genia in Tauris.23 Quintilian’s deployment of them makes Homer the most significant literary context. The effect is to superimpose the themes of gene- alogy, authority, and literary relations in establishing a grid of tacit anal- ogies. Implicitly, Atreus stands to Pelops as ‘‘our own tragic poet’’ might stand in relation to Homer—and as the Latin language might to the Greek. It is surely no coincidence that the Institutio oratoria is fascinated throughout by the relationship between the Greek and Latin cultural achievements. Right at the outset, Quintilian declares, ‘‘I prefer a boy to begin by speaking Greek, because he will imbibe Latin, which more people speak, whether he will or no; and also because he will need to be taught Greek learning first, it being the source of ours too’’ (1:71). And in book 12, we have an extended and openly rivalrous comparison between the two languages: ‘‘The less help we get from the [Latin as opposed to Greek] language, the more we have to fight our battles with Invention. Let us unearth lofty and varied thoughts; we shall need to stir every emotion, and illuminate our style by the brilliance of our Metaphors. They beat us at subtlety; let us prevail by weight. They have a surer means of being precise; let us outdo them in fullness’’ (5:301). Quintilian’s text is pervaded throughout by the force of this comparison, even when it remains unspoken. Hence his emphasis on ‘‘us,’’ on ‘‘our’’ lan- 22. George Chapman, Homer Prince of Poets (London, 1609), D2v. Compare Homer, Iliad, Books 1–12, trans. A. T. Murray, rev. William F. Wyatt (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1999), 2.100–108. 23. E. H. Warmington, ed., Remains of Old Latin, 4 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Univer- sity Press, 1979–88), 2:608. 498 M O D E R N P H I L O L O G Y guage, and ‘‘our poet’’ in the extracts we have looked at; hence also the way he foregrounds the process of mediating between two cultures in the first quotation: transferatur, he writes—‘‘Let me translate.’’ In context, then, the juxtaposition of Homer with the Roman play of Iphigenia elicits the ques- tion, Can the Latin language be the legitimate inheritor of the Greek lit- erary achievement? The ‘‘very famous’’ extract, from Demosthenes’ oration ‘‘On the Crown,’’ also resonates with this theme, not just because it consists of translated words from the keynote speech of the most famous of Greek orators, reframed within the context of a manual of Latin eloquence, but also perhaps because—if we again fill in the contextual detail that Quinti- lian omits—it is a product of the moment of the eclipse of Athenian power by that of Macedon, the moment after which Athens could be a center only of cultural, not political, power. Rome, we infer, has the option of both, if only her literati can successfully follow the advice outlined in the Institutio oratoria. Of Quintilian’s other quotations, his third, from Calvus, may be rela- tively innocuous (although the Lex Plautia it refers to instituted changes in jury selection in 89 BCE that were to the disadvantage of the equites, so that even here we see the outline of a subtextual narrative of dispossession).24 By referencing Scipio Africanus, however, his second quotation clearly alludes to Rome’s ascent to Mediterranean dominance at the expense of her national rivals. And although it is identified only as a ‘‘traditional Latin instance,’’ Quintilian’s source for the quotation is the pseudo-Ciceronian Rhetorica ad Herennium, which uses it to illustrate the figure of gradatio. And in the context evoked by Quintilian’s play of allusions, the example that immediately follows this in the Rhetorica may seem particularly striking: ‘‘The empire of Greece belonged to the Athenians; the Athenians were overpowered by the Spartans; the Spartans were overcome by the Thebans; the Thebans were conquered by the Macedonians; and in Macedonians in short time subdued Asia in war and joined her to the empire of Greece.’’25 Slyer and more covert than this, Quintilian’s discussion of gradatio never- theless also implicitly views the progress of civilization as the product of a chain of appropriations or conquests, each one of which, rather than sim- ply obliterating its predecessor, instead contains it, reframed and trans- formed within a new context of literary-cultural authority. Gradatio, lending itself so readily to the representation of the blending together of successive states, each one containing or contained by its prede- cessor as if in a series of nested boxes, seems the perfect vehicle for Quintil- 24. See Russell’s note in Quintilian, Orator’s Education. 25. Ad C. Herrennium de ratione dicendi, trans. Harry Caplan (Cambridge, MA: Harvard Uni- versity Press, 1954), 315–17. This example is the very first used to illustrate the uses of climax in Henry Peacham, The Garden of Eloquence (London, 1577), Q3r. 499Alex Davis Sidney and Gradatio ian’s vision of literary inheritances and relationships. The trope tends to make the process appear smooth, calm, and fundamentally benign, al- though it must be clear that this was only rarely the case. Indeed, Quintil- ian’s quotations tacitly confess as much. The genealogical transfer of authority outlined in Homer and the Latin play of Iphigenia, while it may appear placid and unruffled in the local context of the Institutio oratoria, in reality describes a notably unhappy lineage of which one might say that the defining image for how the generations relate to each other is one of can- nibalism. Quintilian may invert the normal Atrean paradigm by presenting us with the spectacle of children analogically eating their parents. None- theless, the invocation of the figures of Pelops and Thyestes literalizes the traditional idea of rhetorical ‘‘digestion’’ in a most disturbing and extreme manner.26 As presented by Quintilian, then, gradatio seems the natural figure with which to discuss the translatio imperii and translatio studii, the translation of political and cultural power and legitimacy from one civilization to an- other.27 What, after all, is this theme if not a gradatio that holds out the prom- ise of the past realized in the present by inviting us to complete the sequence it outlines with our own names? Gradatio also points in two quite separate directions. On the one hand, it looks toward the orderly progres- sion of discrete civilizational units and historical periods, whether that be from the Athenian to the Spartan and from the Spartan to the Theban and from the Theban to the Macedonian; or from the Greek to the Roman; or even from the classical to the Renaissance. Each presented as distinct and separate. At the same time, though, each can come into being only by con- suming and containing its predecessor. In this tradition the delineation of a cultural heritage, however respectfully phrased, is therefore shot through with intimations of submerged hostility, aggression, and violence. Success- fully translating the cultural products of the past into the present necessarily entails disavowing the humiliating dependence—the necessity of a prede- cessor—that underpins one’s own purported authority. And precisely because gradatio speaks to the desire for self-transformation, the aspirational 26. On imitation as digestion, see, e.g., Terence Cave, The Cornucopian Text: Problems of Writ- ing in the French Renaissance (Oxford: Clarendon, 1979), 35–77. For a modern account of the poetics of literary influence as family romance, see Harold Bloom, The Anxiety of Influence: A Theory of Poetry (Oxford University Press, 1973). 27. On the topos of translatio, see Édouard Jeauneau, Translatio Studii: The Transmission of Learning ; A Gilsonian Theme (Toronto: Pontifical Institute of Medieval Studies, 1995); and Ernst Robert Curtius, European Literature and the Latin Middle Ages, trans. Willard R. Trask (Princeton University Press, 1990), 27–30. As Curtius points out, the theme has its biblical as well as its classical resonances. He cites Ecclesiasticus 10:8: ‘‘Because of unrighteous dealings, injuries, and riches got by deceit, the kingdom is translated from one people to another’’ (28). 500 M O D E R N P H I L O L O G Y trajectory that it charts is also always shadowed by a counternarrative of threatened self-estrangement.28 It is a tradition that is itself translated into the cultural environment that produced Philip Sidney. One of the richest of all the sixteenth-century rhetoricians’ discussions of the trope, and one that closely echoes Quintil- ian’s presentation, is to be found in Abraham Fraunce’s Arcadian Rheto- rike.29 Like Quintilian, Fraunce illustrates the figure through a variety of quotations, and Fraunce’s quotations begin with the same passage alluded to in the Institutio, namely, Iliad 2.102–4, on the provenance of Agamem- non’s scepter. Fraunce follows up these with an extract from Virgil’s sec- ond Eclogue, in which Corydon bewails his unrequited love for Alexis: ‘‘The grim lioness follows the wolf, the wolf himself the goat, the wanton goat the flowering clover.’’ Thus, the speaker adds, in the line immediately follow- ing Fraunce’s excerpt, ‘‘Corydon follows you, Alexis.’’30 This is a text that has fascinated both Renaissance readers and modern criticism in its depic- tion of homoerotic desire.31 But we should also note that the contextual envelope that packages its striking vision of predation remodeled as help- less pursuit is, once again, one of artistic inheritance. Earlier in the poem, Corydon promises the absent Alexis that ‘‘with me in the woods you shall rival Pan in song’’ (31), reminding himself that he is in possession of a pipe ‘‘formed of seven uneven hemlock stems, a gift that Damoetas once gave me and said, as he lay a-dying: ‘Now it claims you as its second master’’’ (36–38). The ‘‘master’’ is, irresistibly, ‘‘claimed’’ by his art.32 The text seems implicitly to triangulate the three forms of compulsive, abject ‘‘following’’: that of being mastered by an artistic tradition; the predator’s pursuit of 28. Compare Tertullian’s comments on the toga, addressed to the Carthaginians around 200 CE: ‘‘What a circuitous distance it has travelled,’’ he comments, ‘‘from Pelasgians to Lydians, from Lydians to Romans, so that the people of Carthage take their covering from more exalted shoulders!’’ (De pallio, quoted in Ahuvia Kahane and Andrew Laird, eds., A Com- panion to the Prologue of Apuleius’ ‘‘Metamorphoses’’ [Oxford University Press, 2001], 52–53). This is a satirical parody of more celebratory uses of the figure, substituting the ‘‘circuitous’’ for the direct and nicely bringing out the humiliating subtext that they strive to contain: the Carthagi- nians are proudly sporting the sign of their own failure. 29. See Fraunce, Arcadian Rhetorike, C6v–C8v. Ethel Seaton’s edition of Fraunce’s Arcadian Rhetorike (Oxford: Blackwell, 1950) gives a table of the classical references discussed here. 30. Virgil, Eclogue 2.63–64, in Eclogues; Georgics; Aeneid, trans. H. Ruston Fairclough, rev. G. P. Goold, 2 vols. (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2000–2001), hereafter cited parenthetically by line number. 31. See, e.g., Bruce R. Smith, Homosexual Desire in Shakespeare’s England (University of Chi- cago Press, 1994), 79–115. 32. This magnificently sinister formulation may owe at least something to the translator’s ingenuity. In the Latin, Damoetas’s phrase is ‘‘te nunc habet ista secundum.’’ Fraunce’s own version, from his translation of this poem was ‘‘One vsed it onely beefore thee’’ (Abraham Fraunce, The Lawiers Logicke [London, 1588], Kk3r). 501Alex Davis Sidney and Gradatio its prey; and rustic Corydon’s desire for the urbane Alexis. Woven into Fraunce’s tapestry of quotations, the first of these senses moves toward the foreground. Fraunce therefore locates Sidney—three of whose uses of gradatio fol- low, beginning with Astrophil and Stella 1—as the significant heir of the great poets of classical antiquity. Sidney is shown to use the same linguistic trope as his literary forbears do, while the trope itself offers tacit instructions for reading Sidney’s verse in relation to theirs. Sidney’s ‘‘footstep[s]’’ follow in their footsteps, just as the lioness follows the wolf, or Corydon pursues Alexis; he is in possession of a provenance, a noble descent, just as much as Agamemnon’s scepter and Corydon’s pipe. And Astrophil and Stella 1 estab- lishes exactly the same connection between poetry and sexual desire that we seem to find in Virgil’s second Eclogue, so again the extracts are selected in such a way as to bind them into a mutually reinforcing network of affinity and similitude. Notably, Fraunce quotes only from Sidney’s verse in this sec- tion. As we have seen, Sidney certainly uses gradatio in his prose, and Fraunce cites the prose sections of the Arcadia elsewhere. But here the dis- cussion seems to want to locate Sidney within a specifically poetic tradition of artistic production.33 Fraunce then provides quotations from Torquato Tasso’s Gerusalemme liberata (1581) and Aminta (1573) and Guillaume de Salluste Du Bartas’s La sepmaine (1585) and La Judit (1573). Following the classical examples, these position Sidney’s writing within the context of a ‘‘vernacular human- ism’’ of the kind evoked by Warren Boutcher.34 For Boutcher, ‘‘the Elizabe- than vernacular Renaissance’’ needs to be understood not simply as the attempt to reconnect with the cultural forms of the classical past, but also as a response to Italian, French, and Spanish attempts to do that. ‘‘The moment that saw the emergence of a ‘national’ literary culture,’’ he argues, ‘‘was a self-conscious response from the margins to the power-politics driv- 33. On poetic ‘‘footsteps,’’ compare Sidney on Chaucer: ‘‘I know not whether to marvel more, either that he in that misty time could see so clearly, or that we in this clear age walk so stumblingly after him’’ (Apology for Poetry, 110). Chaucer’s own Troilus and Criseyde ends by urging his ‘‘bok’’ to ‘‘kis the steppes where as thow seest pace / Virgile, Ovide, Omer, Lucan, and Stace’’ (5.1791–92, in The Riverside Chaucer, ed. Larry D. Benson [Oxford University Press, 1987]). But the image is again self-consciously derivative. Statius’s epic concludes by hoping to ‘‘follow [the] footsteps’’ of the Aeneid (Statius, Thebaid 12.816–17, in Thebaid, Books 8–12; Achel- leid, trans. D. R. Shackleton Bailey [Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2003]). 34. See Warren Boutcher, ‘‘Vernacular Humanism in the Sixteenth Century,’’ in The Cam- bridge Companion to Renaissance Humanism, ed. Jill Kraye (Cambridge University Press, 1996), 189–202, ‘‘‘Who taught thee Rhetoricke to deceive a maid?’ Christopher Marlowe’s Hero and Leander, Juan Boscán’s Leandro, and Renaissance Vernacular Humanism,’’ Comparative Litera- ture 52 (2000): 11–52, and Boutcher’s reflections on the composition of this second essay con- tained in ‘‘The Analysis of Culture Revisited: Pure Texts, Applied Texts, Literary Historicisms, Cultural Histories,’’ Journal of the History of Ideas 64 (2003): 489–510. 502 M O D E R N P H I L O L O G Y ing continental European vernacular cultural production.’’35 Fraunce’s text, then, imagines Philip Sidney not simply as the heir of antiquity but as first among modern poets, preceding his literary predecessors. It is the dis- tinctive product of a polyglot European environment in which English was competing for recognition as a medium of cultivated expression just as En- gland was seeking to exert its political influence on the Continent. This is precisely the combination outlined in Sidney’s own Apology, which notes, ‘‘Heretofore Poets have in England also flourished, and, which is to be noted, even in those times when the trumpet of Mars did sound loudest’’ (109)—a belligerent coupling of the literary and the military that implicitly links the project of literary revival to Sidney’s desire for a more hawkish for- eign policy. Fraunce’s final quotation underlines the connection between gradatio and this project of national self-assertion. It consists of two lines from the Spaniard Juan Boscán’s ‘‘Ottava rima’’ (1543). This is a long (roughly thou- sand-line) poem amplifying and developing verses by Pietro Bembo into a sort of poetic history and a celebration of the Spanish language. It describes the land of Love, a paradise located in the East, and Love’s decision to send two ambassadors to two hard-hearted ladies of Barcelona. The ambassadors cross the Nile and travel through Greece and Venice and through France until they reach Spain. Already, then, we have the outlines of a narrative of translatio. On arrival, the ambassadors present their case to the ladies. Among other arguments, they recount how Love inspired poets such as Sap- pho, Tibullus, and Propertius. Then we move on to modern writers such as Petrarch. Among these, we read of the ‘‘Bachelor of the Tower,’’ to whom Fraunce’s fragmentary quotation alludes: Tanto que d’ella fama tira y corre, D’el Istro al Tago, y d’el Tago hasta al Nilo.36 The reference is to one Alfonso de la Torre, author of the Visión delectable (ca. 1430–40), who, we read, developed his style to such a pitch that his fame ‘‘extends and spreads / From the Ister [the Danube] to the Tagus, and from the Tagus to the Nile’’—a reputational itinerary that recapitu- 35. Boutcher, ‘‘Who taught thee Rhetoricke,’’ 12. 36. Fraunce, Arcadian Rhetorike, C8v, checked against Juan Boscán, Las obras de Boscan y algu- nas de Garcilasso de la Vega (Antwerp, 1569), S11r. Seaton’s edition indicates that Fraunce must be quoting from a midcentury Antwerp edition and gives a range of possible sources (xxxiv). This poem in its entirety seems to be untranslated in English, although an abbreviated version appears as ‘‘Loves Embassy’’ in Thomas Stanley, Poems (London, 1651), O2v. I am indebted to the discussion in David H. Darst, Juan Boscán (Boston: Twayne, 1978), 109–14. Luis M. Girón- Negrón discusses the misidentification, first made by Quevedo in 1631, of the ‘‘Bachelor’’ as Francisco de la Torre (Alfonso de la Torre’s ‘‘Visión delaytable’’ [Leiden: Brill, 2001], 16). 503Alex Davis Sidney and Gradatio lates in disordered form the journey undertaken by Love’s ambassadors at the start of the poem and also describes a fantasized arc of Hapsburg domi- nance, stretching from the Danube in the North to Egypt in the South via Charles V’s Spanish possessions.37 The literary and the military combine to frame Fraunce’s sense of what Sidney’s literary achievement, his digestion of the writing of others and the effect produced by others’ reading of his writing, might mean in the context of late sixteenth-century European cul- ture.38 In Samuel Shaw’s Words Made Visible (1679), ‘‘Increment’’ says, ‘‘I am that Figure, Sir, whereby men rise from lesser and lower degrees still higher and higher. By me men rise from Fresh-men to Sophisters, thence to Curates, from thence to Parsons, from thence to Dignitaries.’’39 Shaw’s book is a manual designed to teach the language arts through exchanges between personi- fied figures of speech. In this late seventeenth-century guise, ‘‘Increment’’ features as a simple-minded careerist, an enjoyably crass reimagination of the narrative imperatives and cultural aspirations encoded within the tradi- tion we have been examining. It is an amusing vulgarization, but not, for all that, a total travesty. We might recall Puttenham’s example: ‘‘His vertue made him wise, his wisdome brought him wealth, / His wealth wan many friends.’’ Shaw’s ‘‘Increment’’ genuinely speaks to the worldly ambitions of the ‘‘Sophisters’’ of the previous century, yet it does not tell the whole story about them. Gradatio is indeed the figure of literary achievement, but it is also the fig- ure that, in the tradition of its reception, repeatedly suggests that this moment of self-realization is constantly folded into a history of alienation. Both Quintilian and Fraunce’s accounts make this clear. Even as they con- textualize gradatio as a way of speaking of a tradition of cultural dominance, they are persistently shot through with moments of revulsion, anxiety, and doubt: Corydon’s helpless infatuation with Alexis, in which he figures at once as predator and victim; an artistic tradition that irresistibly claims its 37. Specifically, the fantasy seems to be that Hapsburg forces should successfully have defeated the Ottomans in North Africa and securely repelled them in Austria. Notably, the poem also positions Spain at the heart of this imperial success. Although Spanish finances increasingly underpinned Charles’s rule, his own identity was somewhat less securely anchored there. On the imperial contexts of the ‘‘new poetry’’ and the Charles’s North African campaign of 1535, see Richard Helgerson, A Sonnet from Carthage: Garcilaso de la Vega and the New Poetry of Sixteenth-Century Europe (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2007). I am grateful to Alexander Samson for his assistance in translating the Boscán lines. 38. It is relevant to note that Fraunce’s manual, as a more or less accurate rendering of a rhetorica by Audomarus Talaeus (Omer Talon), itself represents an act of cultural translation of the type it ascribes to Sidney. 39. Samuel Shaw, Words Made Visible (London, 1679), L8v. Shaw’s ‘‘Increment’’ is effectively gradatio, stripped of anadiplosis. 504 M O D E R N P H I L O L O G Y new practitioners; the horrific narrative of the line of Atreus. This is a tradi- tion in which epic triumphalism constantly threatens to wage a campaign of internal dissidence against itself; in which a noble descent of a tradition, rather than offering authentication, might instead be reconceptualized sim- ply as a descent; and in which gradation might open out onto degradation. Even the Alfonso de la Torre of Boscán’s ‘‘Ottava Rima’’ may be in posses- sion of a reputation that moves forward as well as retards its own impetus. Since the verb tirar in the phrase tira y corre (translated above as ‘‘extends’’) can signify both a propulsive movement, a throwing outward, and a pulling back, we might read the poem as declaring that Alfonso’s fama simulta- neously pulls and runs forward—or, conceivably, ebbs and flows—from the Ister to the Tagus and from the Tagus to the Nile. It is an ambiguity that again hints at a persistent ideological undertow that clutches and drags at the poem’s imperial trajectories. As Richard Helgerson has written of Garci- laso de la Vega’s poetry, the ‘‘voice of imperial triumph’’ is always one that also speaks of ‘‘frustration, loss, self-alienation, and even self-immolation.’’40 It is this tradition that Astrophil and Stella 1 wittily realizes in its very dis- placement. One need only consider how the poem looks once framed within Fraunce’s mediation of Quintilian’s discussion of mediation. Fraunce reinserts Astrophil and Stella 1 into the context that the poem itself strategi- cally suppresses and denies. Here, in all their supremely detailed interac- tions, are those ‘‘others’ leaves’’ with which Astrophil would have us believe he need have nothing to do. The Institutio oratoria and the Arcadian Rhetor- ike’s accounts of gradatio speak of nothing if not of literature as a rich net- work of affinity, echo, and connection, and they act to instill reading prac- tices adequate to that complexity. But in so doing these manuals also give voice to the powerful impulses toward disavowal and oblivion contained within such an exquisitely self-aware tradition of reading and writing, and they thereby put us in a position to appreciate just how apt Sidney’s use of gradatio in Astrophil and Stella 1 really is, above and beyond its local effective- ness for the purposes of Astrophil’s immediate argument. It is not simply that the figure’s signaling of translation and process gestures in miniature toward the fundamental maneuver of sonnet sequence discourse whereby one discursive code is overlaid onto another, just as Astrophil and Stella 1 maps the language of literature onto the language of love and Astrophil and Stella 2 moves to translate these into the language of politics. Rather, Astro- phil’s gradatio —understood within the history of its use, located in a poem that argues for the irrelevance of previous writing as it smoothly displaces our sense of its own productivity onto the figure of the female reader— serves compactly to signal the extent to which the poem demonstrates a 40. Helgerson, Sonnet from Carthage, 13. 505Alex Davis Sidney and Gradatio mastery of the very tradition it purportedly rejects.41 In so doing so, the poem both explains that tradition as an inheritance so overweening that it might drive its exponents to pretend that it is nothing of the sort and, at the same time, voices the impulse toward a more authentic dissolution and undoing that is also part of this forgetful legacy.42 41. In relation to the arguments set out in Bates’s Masculinity, Gender and Identity, it might be asked whether this essay does not merely represent yet another way of strategizing (and thereby recuperating) the abjection of the sonnet persona. To an extent I think this must be the case. Sidney features here as infinitely more knowing than the surface of the poems he cre- ates. Nonetheless, there is a genuine destabilization here, something a little like the Kristevan sense of the abject as that which ‘‘simultaneously beseeches and pulverizes the subject’’ ( Julia Kristeva, Powers of Horror: An Essay on Abjection, trans. Leon S. Roudiez [New York: Columbia University Press, 1982], 5). Astrophil and Stella 1 constantly slides between the enjoyable per- formance of a humiliating dependence, whether that be to Stella or to an anterior tradition of composition, and the sense of that dependence as, on some level at least, all too chaotically real. 42. Gradatio’s history does not end with the sixteenth century. Consider the following mod- ern instance, amusingly thematizing the historical concerns of the text of which it is a part: ‘‘Thus, stealthily and imperceptibly, none marking the exact day or hour of the change, the constitution of England was altered and nobody knew it . . . [and] a change of diet became essential. The muffin was invented and the crumpet. Coffee supplanted the after-dinner port, and as coffee led to a drawing-room in which to drink it, and a drawing-room to glass cases, and glass cases to artificial flowers, and artificial flowers to mantelpieces, and mantelpieces to pianofortes, and pianofortes to drawing-room ballads, and drawing-room ballads (skipping a stage or two) to innumerable little dogs, mats, and china ornaments, the home—which had become extremely important—was completely altered’’ (Virginia Woolf, Orlando [Harmonds- worth: Penguin, 1972], 160–61). 506 M O D E R N P H I L O L O G Y 
work_l7po3cmgjrdnbgqgas65xaq7du	----	147 Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. UDK: 376.1-056.263(4)”13/15” ID: 189872140 Pregledni rad Marina RADIĆ ŠESTIĆ1* Nadežda DIMIĆ* Mia ŠEŠUM** University of Belgrade Faculty of Special Education and Rehabilitation* Ministry of Interior RS** THE BEGINNINGS OF EDUCATION OF THE DEAF PERSONS: RENAISSANCE EUROPE (XIV-XVI CENTURY) The aim of this paper is to indicate a turnover of the society towards deaf persons which was brought by the historic Renaissance period, from the XIV to XVI century. It is well known fact that handicapped persons were marginalized in the Middle Ages by the broader social community and that charitable care within churches and monasteries was considered to be the only legitimate form of help to those who were designated by God to expiate the sins of their ancestors. The weakening of the church authority and the improvement of science in the XV century lead to increased interest in medicine, that has also reflected on the attitudes of experts towards deaf people who started to be more actively interested in them. The Renaissance has begotten the first teachers of the deaf, as well as the first deaf artists who have been recognized and revered by society, and that had a crucial impact on the change of comprehension of deafness and attitudes towards the possibilities of the deaf. All this contributed to laying the foundations for more organized work with the deaf, which has occurred in Europe in the XVIII century. Key words: society, renaissance, education, deaf pupil, deafness, sign language 1 E-mail: marina.r-s@hotmail.com Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. 148 INTRODUCTION The Renaissance is a cultural and historical concept which primarily denoted the period of predominantly Italian art, culture and science from the middle of the XIV to the beginning of the XVI century. It was conceived in the XIV century in the town-states of Northern Italy, who became rich and powerful owing to the development of trade during the Middle Ages. It caused the awakening of science and overcoming of laicism, as well as strong opposition of intellectuals and progressive people towards instances of restriction of human rights and development of science. Self-confidence and human intellect prevailed over submissive behavior characteristic of medieval uncompromising respect for God and God’s word (Krleža, 1967: 439). Although Renaissance men in no way have rejected Christianity, they valued the earthly life to much greater extent than men in the Middle Ages, who have mainly been directed to the beyond world. Only in Renaissance man again became the actuator, nucleus, purpose and participant of intellectual events and general progress. Thus Italy became the center of global historical turnover and for centuries remains a role model for the entire Europe owing to special renewal of Antique period in all domains of human creativity. At the same time, the Renaissance is a period of scientific development of all sciences, medicine as well, which has favorably influenced the study of problems of persons with disabilities and creation of advantageous conditions for practical work with them. In the XV and XVI century, the ideas of the Renaissance have spread to Germany, France, Spain and England owing to numerous books which were available after the invention of the printing press, which has enabled their faster distribution, not only among the elite, as was previously the case, but among the „common folks” as well. Such increased interest for mass education of population had also a positive influence on the education of the deaf children (Van Cleve, 1993:240). Radić Šestić, M. i dr.: The beginnings of education of the deaf persons: Renaissance Europe (XIV-XVI Century) 149 Relation to Deafness in Pre-modern Period Until the Renaissance, the deaf were treated as less worthy persons. Under the influence of the views of Aristotle and St. Augustine, who have considered that the deaf could not be educated, their training has not been acceded for a long time. Deafness as a medical and social problem was discussed only in various state legal acts and in medical documents. Speech was considered a gift of God, and a deaf child was deprived of speech by God’s will. Only the Church was the intermediary between God and men. Thus was clearly defined the position of deafness, as well as the issue of rehabilitation of deafness as a disability. Deafness was then considered as such a severe disability that there is no chance to help or alleviate such condition. Only a miracle could help in case of deafness (Dimić, 1996:15). Mediaeval philosophers and teachers considered the deaf people as a part of God’s plan which they have no right to influence. Change of situation and status of the deaf was possible only with the God’s intervention. There was a belief that the souls of the deaf can’t find salvation, because they are not able to hear the priest’s sermon (Branson, Miller, 2002:67). Since they were often misunderstood, the fear of expulsion and elimination followed the deaf through the considerable part of their history (Padden, 2005:161). The deaf in the period of the Middle Ages, as well as at the beginning of the Renaissance have often served their landlords as a cheap labor. However, that was related only to the poor deaf, the children of aristocrats were accommodated in the monasteries where they were entrusted to the custody of monks. Considering that on the one hand the Church proclaimed mercy and on the other hand the existence of „predestination”- intention of the almighty that certain persons (the deaf, blind, physically disabled…) expiate the punishment for the sins of their parents, any effort for the purpose of educating the deaf, except for charitable care has not been tolerated. If by any chance someone would oppose this official standing that had existed in the Middle Ages, one could have been accused for heresy and burned at the stake. Only the high clergy had the right to interfere in predestination, because it was considered that its members have received a special gift from the almighty so that they can perform their duties. Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. 150 It was in this period that a great historical paradox occurred: in the period of the most severe Inquisition, when all those who were considered to be opposed to the Church standings and had connection with the devil were burned at the stake, when even the blind were burned at the stake, the education of the deaf by the clergy commenced in the monasteries (Savić, Maslić, 1974:7). Some monks considered writing and gesturing to be the manners of achieving knowledge and salvation, because these forms of communication were represented in the monasteries in which many internal sign systems have been developed. These sign systems were not created because of the deaf, nor they have used it; they were developed by various monk orders for the purpose of their communication during the period of silence, when speaking wasn’t allowed (Branson, Miller, 2002:68). The sign systems of the deaf grew out of the need of the biological imperative for the first, maternal language, and were independent from the sign systems which were used by hearing people (Bragg, 1997:15). The monasteries also produced the first teachers who have taught by means of sign language. These teachers were dedicated not only to teaching reading and writing, but taught their students to talk as well, thus denying the centuries old notion that the deaf need a miracle to begin talking. In addition to the monks, physicians and teachers soon have begun teaching the deaf. The overall philosophical view of the world has changed in the Renaissance period; the goals of education have changed, as well as the expectations of individuals and society who after a thousand years long absolute reign of the Church wanted to take over the responsibility for their own prosperity. People no longer accepted the world itself, as a God-given, but they have started looking for a way to change it. As expected, that has affected the attitudes towards deafness as well. Teaching the deaf children how to talk has become one of the new philosophical achievements, and it was a domain where the experts from all over Europe could prove that it is possible to change the course of human destiny. Although there were some isolated attempts of training the deaf in the past, only since the Renaissance begun systematic work of teachers and physicians with the deaf. New page in history and treatment of the deaf was opened, because in this historical period we have started with initial tolerance and, through Radić Šestić, M. i dr.: The beginnings of education of the deaf persons: Renaissance Europe (XIV-XVI Century) 151 sheltering, crossed to the concrete practice of rehabilitation (Branson, Miller, 2002:68). Abandonment of the Mediaeval Notion of Deafness Ancient medical science treated deafness as the influence of supernatural forces on the individual, so the physicians came to the conclusion that the deaf could not be rehabilitated. Later they have discovered that there is some kind of connection between deafness and muteness, but the clinical picture of deafness was not yet known. The renowned antique physician and philosopher Aelius Galenus (129- 199 AD), whose theories had a significant influence on the Western medicine for more than one millennium, concluded that deafness is a disease in which function of organism was impaired. The low level of science in the mediaeval period, and especially the anatomy and physiology, did not allow consideration of the causes and consequences of hearing impairment (Kovačević, 2003:9). However, the interest in the anatomy of men has increased at the beginning of the Renaissance; many autopsies that were performed in that time support that fact. Among the first matters that have significantly influenced the new medical concept of the Renaissance period are the texts of Paracelsus (1493-1541) who was interested in reconsiderations of Galenus’s dogma, as well as the two anatomy texts of Andreas Versalius, who have corrected some of Galenus’s anatomical beliefs and laid the foundation for modern scientific studies of the brain. A physician Hieronymus Mercurialis was among those who were influenced by Versalius. He certainly considered that brain injuries, as well as other traumas, could be the causes of underdevelopment of speech and problems in articulation, to a lesser or greater degree. In his work Mercurialis unified the cognitions from the classical sources and his own practical experience. He thought that the congenital deafness is the major cause of underdevelopment of speech, and that the child who wasn’t ever able to hear anything will be missing stimuli necessary for the brain to perform activation of articulatory organs. The connection between muteness and deafness was a subject of great interest of physicians in the age of the Renaissance. Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. 152 The treatment of muteness was possible if a person didn’t have impaired hearing, but the deaf were often considered incurable. A German physician Salomon Alberti (1540-1600) thought that hearing and speech impairment need not be necessarily connected and that Aristotle and Hippocrates were mistaken when they claimed that a hearing loss inevitably conditions loss of speech as well. Alberti pointed out that the physicians have for centuries relied on the conclusions from the ancient times and that this has affected the accumulation of wrong concepts and evaluations. He, on the other hand, relied solely upon his own practical experience. The autopsies which he has performed enabled him to become familiar with speech and hearing apparatus and to study the nerves and muscles necessary for mobilization of speech organs. Alberti claimed that the speech is a skill that it is adopted, and not a gift meant for people. Thereby he wanted to emphasize that the deaf and mute persons are completely rational, as well as everyone else. As a Renaissance man, Alberti believed in the soul, as well as that the man is a creation of God in his own model, but he didn’t believe that hearing and speech impairment are the consequence of damage to the soul. He considered that congenital deafness is a consequence of fault of the period of embryonic development and that in no way it could be regarded as a punishment from God and influence the humanism of an individual. Starting from the assertions of Versalius and Alberti, many scientists from various scientific disciplines commenced studying problems of deafness. It was no longer the question of whether the deaf could be taught to speak, but which is the best way to do it. Various methods that could help to solve this problem were taken into consideration (Albrecht, 2006:864). Rudolphus Agricolae (1444-1485) had an enormous impact on the spread of humanism in the late XV century (Tervoort, 2005:354). In his book „De Inventione Dialectica”, he described the encounter with a man who was deaf from birth and consequently mute, but nevertheless he managed to learn to understand everything written and express his thoughts, desires and intentions in writing (Van Cleve, 1993:241). In 1575 a Spanish lawyer Lasso wrote that the deaf who were taught to speak are no longer stupid, and that they have the right to inheritance (Cagle, 2010). A French physician Laurent Joubert noted Radić Šestić, M. i dr.: The beginnings of education of the deaf persons: Renaissance Europe (XIV-XVI Century) 153 in 1587 that the teacher had to be very patient when it comes to teaching the deaf pupils to imitate characteristic facial expressions and movement of speech organs, but that the effort will show results because in that manner the deaf will succeed in developing speech despite hearing impairment (Van Cleve, 1987:42). In 1603, Fabricius Aquapendente, a professor of anatomy at the University of Padua, published two papers that were in many aspects ahead of his time. They emphasized the existence of differences between so called pantomime, which has been used in Italy since ancient times, and natural gesture expression of the deaf. Aquapendente claimed that the training is necessary for understanding sign language of the deaf, and that language is much more complex than a mere imitation of reality by means of movements of arms and hands, as it was believed. He was the first person who denied the iconicity of the sign language. Also, he argued that the muteness of the deaf is solely a consequence of their inability of hearing. He believed that there is no possibility of curing congenital and postnatal deafness, but he advocated that the deaf children should be educated in the best possible way. He warned that no one should attempt to cure deafness by some problematic means, as it had previously been the custom, and that providing the best possible education to the child is the only way to overcome it (Savić, Maslić, 1974:62) The First Teachers of the Deaf A physician Girolamo Cardano (1501-1576) was considered to be the first representative of the scientific thought and the founder of theoretical concept of education of the deaf. Cardano was the first who publicly asserted that the muteness occurred as a consequence of deafness, which was a heavy blow to then religious dogmas of deafness as a divine punishment, which is why he was imprisoned by the Inquisition in 1573 and a lot of his books were burned. A well known is Cardano’s notion that deafness could be neutralized by means of transmission of sound through the skull bones, if a deaf person and his collocutor during conversation hold a small stick in their mouths that will allow them to hear each other. Also, he was the first who gave a definition of hearing impairment according to the time of the Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. 154 occurrence of that impairment and the degree of development of speech and the remainder of hearing. Cardano’s greatest accomplishment is that he established that deafness is not a pathological phenomenon which causes inability of intellectual development and that the deaf, with proper training, can achieve a high intellectual level. He denied that the development of thinking is impossible without the ability to speak, pointing out that the deaf can „hear” by means of reading and „speak” by writing. Thereby he became the first physician who established the theory that the deaf can be educated. This thought, although lonely, because the tradition of the past is opposed to new notions, was a herald of the new views on deafness and possibilities for the rehabilitation of the deaf (Dimić, 1996:17). He defied the ancient notion that persons who have not mastered the speech are without language, and therefore without a soul and reason as well (Van Cleve, 1987:246). The ideas presented in Cardano’s professional works represent the foundations of the contemporary approach to education of the deaf and abandonment of generalized preconceptions about what the deaf can do, and what is unattainable to them (Marschark, Lang, Albertini, 2002:19).. Instead of the earlier caritative approach to deafness, he demanded, together with his contemporary, a physician Fabricius Aquapendante, the education of the deaf, because they considered that a deaf person cannot achieve mastering of speech alone, in a natural way, but a special organized training is necessary for that. The ideas of Cardano about the possibility of intellectual development and education of the deaf found their confirmation and further expansion of individual education of the deaf in practice which was created in Spain, one of the largest, wealthiest and the most developed countries of Europe in the XV and XVI century, and then transferred to the Netherlands, England, France and Germany, soon to be extended to the entire Europe (Savić, Ivanović, 1994:14,15). The Benedictine monk Pedro Ponce de León (1508-1584) is believed to be the first teacher of the deaf. Shaken by the handicap of two boys who stayed in the same monastery as he, Ponce tried to find a way that would allow him to train them. It is considered that the method that he used in his work was based on writing, with finger pointing to the objects that are named, than inducing movement Radić Šestić, M. i dr.: The beginnings of education of the deaf persons: Renaissance Europe (XIV-XVI Century) 155 of the tongue and lips which correspond to the pronunciation of written sounds, usage of the finger alphabet, and then writing them down by the deaf pupils. He was the first who in his work with the deaf persons used finger alphabet, which had appeared for the first time in that context in historical documents in the XVI century, in the notes of Melchor de Yebra (1526-1586) (Plann, 1997). Ponce also communicated with his pupils by means of gestures, considering that the monks of his monastic order were under the strict vow of silence. Since his method proved to be effective, he also started to teach the other deaf persons, who were predominantly from the wealthy and respectable families (Van Cleve, 1987:295-297). In order to escape the conviction of the Inquisition, he claimed that he had received a special gift from St. Ignatius Loyola, so that he could train the deaf. The other early teachers of the deaf resorted to that as well, because there was a danger that they could be accused in front of the Inquisition for quackery and witchcraft (Savić. Maslić, 1974:7). Through his work he has proved that even the deaf can read, write, think and speak (Plann, 1997). It is considered that Bonet and Carrion, who were after Ponse also engaged in teaching the deaf to speak, relied a great deal exactly upon his work methods. Manuel Ramirez de Carrion (1579-1652) was a teacher and one of the pioneers of education of the deaf, who is considered as a direct successor of Pedro Ponce de León. Carrion started with the training of the deaf in his native Spain, where he published a book „Miracles of Nature” (Maravillas de naturaleza, 1629), some kind of Encyclopedia, where he partially described his vocal method with which he trained the deaf to read and write, and also he presented his reflections on possibilities of their education. In 1636 he went to Italy and stayed there till 1645, when he returned to Spain, where after 1652 every trace of him was lost (Bojanin, Blagojević, Buljančević i sar., 1999:164). Carrion, as well as the majority of teachers of those times, tried to keep his method secret, in an attempt to avoid the appearance of competition, and also to maintain the privileged position which he enjoyed among the nobility that was interested in his services. He noticed that the underdevelopment of speech among the deaf is a consequence of the lack of auditory stimulation, and considering that their speech organs are completely functional, it is possible to Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. 156 teach them to speak. Carrion’s method was most probably based on learning the letters according to the sounds they represent, and not according to their regular names. This method was called the reduction of letters. The reduction of the names of letters and their connection solely with the sounds they represent was likely practiced by both Ponce and Bonet in their training of the deaf. In his communication with the deaf pupils Carrion also used the finger alphabet that he most probably took over from Bonet, with minimal modifications (Van Cleve, 1987:179-180). In order to give medical character to his work in the period of Inquisition, respectively that his treatments would not resemble the miraculous returning of the ability of speech to the deaf, because of which he could be convicted and burned at the stake, he was giving his pupils laxatives and other various potions, shaved their heads and smeared various ointments on shaven places, and then articulated sounds, syllables and words in the crowns of their heads, which were then repeated by their pupils. This was the first attempt of learning to speak by means of transfer of sound through bones caused by vibration of the head (Bojanin, Blagojević, Buljančević i sar., 1999:164). Owing to large number of the deaf that he has successfully educated, Carrion is considered to be the most significant successor of Pedro Ponce de León in the history of education of the deaf. Nevertheless, his method became well known only when it was described and published by Bonet in 1620. Juan Pablo Bonet (1579-1623) was a Spanish teacher and author of the first book completely dedicated to education of the deaf. Bonet was able to observe Carrion teaching the deaf children, so he adopted his method and got into education of the deaf himself. He hasn’t invented any new method of work, yet he only applied what he had learned from Carrion. In 1620 he published a book „Simplification of the Alphabet, and the Art of Teaching Mutes to Speak“ (Van Cleve, 1987:263, 264). This book has two parts: the first one is a descriptive phonetics of Spanish language, and the second part is the methodology of working with the deaf, where he laid out numerous principles of education of the deaf, by which he set the foundations of the articulative teaching. The descriptions of the articulative positions in this book were extraordinary, and helped contemporary phoneticians to comprehend articulation of Spanish language of the seventeenth century. Radić Šestić, M. i dr.: The beginnings of education of the deaf persons: Renaissance Europe (XIV-XVI Century) 157 Also, Bonet was the first who insisted on the difference between audible and inaudible sounds. He believed that studying reading and spelling is completely justifiable, and that, if a child knows how to articulate every letter and how to attach it to the expiration of the sound, it could accomplish to read out loud in a very short time, although this does not mean that it would necessarily understand everything it reads. Juan Pablo Bonet died in 1623, in Madrid. Although he wasn’t the author of the method of teaching the deaf, the book he had written was very significant for the expansion of the idea that the deaf can be taught oral speech. His work with the deaf served as an inspiration also to the other European teachers interested for this type of education as well. The Deaf Artists The deaf people who were involved in the literary arts have always used various literary forms in their expression, and traditionally the most frequent theme they were writing about was experience of deafness. A Spanish nun Teresa de Cartagena, as well as French Renaissance poets Pierre de Ronsard and Joachim du Bellay had especially significant influence of the literature of the deaf. The figure of Teresa de Cartagena was exhibited at the oldest known portrait of the deaf person, dated from 1453. In her youth Teresa fell deaf, after which she became a nun and devoted her life to writing. Although she suffered because of her handicap, she perceived it as a temptation, and in her texts tried to share her own experience of deafness with her readers, as well as to advise and provide comfort to other deaf people. The significance of her works is reflected in a revolutionary idea of acceptance of the handicap not as a punishment, but as a blessing, as well as in the fact that in the XV century it was uncommon to write about bodily suffering, especially when the woman is in question. Teresa believed that the deafness is a gift from God, which was given to her so that she could be closer to him, and she wanted to share that belief with other persons with disabilities as well (Abel, 1980:187). Her texts were often considered controversial, because she wrote about the gender equality and birth roles, and her text „ Admiraçión operum Dey” („Wonder at the Works of God”) is considered by many Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. 158 historians to be the first Spanish feminist tractate (Seidenspinner- Núñez, 2004:15-20) The Renaissance artists used religious themes, but at the same time they have shifted attention from the sky to the nature and man, thus questioning the superiority of faith over art. Extraordinary Renaissance artists effortlessly portrayed characteristics of people and celebrated corporal form of men. Renaissance art developed also a new concept of visual space, which was defined from the standpoint of individual observer. Cultural goods of the ancient world were revived and accepted together with the new values in an attempt of faithful representation of reality. An insight into the interest of artists of these times can easily be achieved on the basis of the work „The Notebooks of Leonardo Da Vinci”. Besides anatomy, proportions, perspective, light and shadows, painters of those times were also interested in questions such as: how to accurately portray the posture of the model, his gestures, emotions, body in movement…(Davies, 1961). In addition to accurately portrayed the physiognomy of painted people, the Renaissance painters have tried to show their feelings as well. The Italians believed in wisdom and beauty, and idealization of human body and face was one of the fundamental characteristics of the Renaissance art, which it inherited from the ancient world. In the period of the Middle Ages and Renaissance it was hard to find a deaf person that knew how to read and write, but nevertheless many deaf people lived productive lives. The proof for that were numerous deaf painters who in the XVI century created exceptional works and through their work left significant mark in the history of art. The ability of artistic expression of the deaf has been noted a long time ago; famous Leonardo da Vinci and Girolamo Cardano also wrote about the artistic talents of the deaf. They have believed that painting was an exceptional domain in which the deaf could express themselves, because one does not need to have components of speech and hearing for that. Cardano considered that great artists do not need to bother painting large areas in churches when that could be done by the deaf, and masters can only finalize their works by instilling a soul in them. The first mention of the deaf painters date as early as the Roman period, and the first deaf painter was Quintus Pedius, a grandson of Radić Šestić, M. i dr.: The beginnings of education of the deaf persons: Renaissance Europe (XIV-XVI Century) 159 the Roman consul, who entered all encyclopedias of painting. The Spaniard Juan Fernandez de Navarrete (1526-1579), called El Mudo (The Mute) was the first court painter of the King Philip II, the most prominent one in a group of Spanish and Italian painters who worked at Escorial. The majority of his artistic opus consists of portraits of distinguished religious figures. Characteristic for El Mudo’s style is his endeavor to depict human feelings. In the history of art he was remembered as an educated artist, freethinker and innovator, as well as the first painter in Spain who virtuously used the contrasts of dynamic light and darkness in the tradition of Tintoretto, which he has modified and adapted to the Spanish realism. El Mudo suddenly fell deaf in his early childhood, at the age of 3 and a half. He compensated his inability to speak with drawing, and thus developed his own way of communication with the environment. Navarette learned history and studied the Bible in the monastery, more than a decade before Ponce de León started to train the deaf (Marschark, Lang, Albertini, 2002:20). He acquired artistic education in Spain and Italy, after which he spent several years working on the restoration of Escorial, and from 1568 he gained the title of court painter. His paintings exuded energy and preciseness, with very free usage of contrasts of light and darkness. His evolution as an artist, although not rapid and radical, was under the influence of the continuous search for new manners to enrich of his own style (Van Cleve, 1987:236). Bernardino di Beto di Biaggio „Pinturicchio“ (1454-1513) was a deaf Italian Renaissance painter, known as an extraordinary master of the fresco technique. In his compositions he portrayed a variety of Biblical themes with a large number of characters in landscape and architectural ambiances, in vivacious coloring and gilding. In Rome he painted cycles of frescoes in the churches Santa Maria del Popolo and Santa Maria in Aracoeli, as well as in the apartments of Pope Alexander VI at the Vatican. He collaborated with Pietro Perugino painting the frescoes in the Sistine Chapel. Outside Rome he painted frescoes in the hall of the Cathedral of Orvieto and in the library of the Cathedral of Siena (Krleža, 1967:134). Ercole Sarti (1593 -1639) was an Italian painter, known by his nickname Il muto de Ficarola (The Mute from Ficarola), because of the underdeveloped speech, which was most probably a consequence Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. 160 of congenital deafness. He painted in Felonica and in Salara as well. In the Ficarolo’s St. Valentine Church he painted a well known work „Crucifixion with Donor and Saints Valentine and Carlo Borromeo” (Laderchi, 1856:157). The work of Jaime López, a deaf Spanish painter, known for his nickname El Muño was also noticed in the XV century in the period of the early Renaissance. „St. John the Baptist in the Church of Toledo” was his famous painting. He was also known for his decorating the Hermitage of our Lady of Prado (Bryan, 2007:75). Hendrick Barentsz Avercamp (1585-1634) was a well known Dutch painter, who became famous for painting winter landscapes in oil painting technique. He was the author of numerous works which were even to this day preserved in various galleries or private collections. Jean le Muet and Berend Dircksz were distinguished Flemish painters, who, as well as many other renowned artists of that period, fell deaf in their childhood. Cristiforo de Predis (1440-1486) was yet another Italian Renaissance painter, who was deaf from birth. In his work he has combined an elegant and refined artist’s style with the Renaissance motifs that have thus obtained the reality. He was known for illustrating the „Borromeo Book of Hours”, where, although there is a signature of the author, creation date has not been specified (Clarke, Clarke, 2002). However, his most famous work is artistic illustrations in the book „De Sphaera d’Erste” (around 1470), which is even today considered as the most beautifully illustrated astrology book from the Renaissance period. All illustrated scenes are in the context of the leading theme of the book, the planet. The astronomical motifs were illustrated in the manner similar to the contemporary astrological maps. The book contains a total of 15 luxurious miniatures, each painted across the entire page. The illustrations exhibit planets, which, according to the conceptions of that period, were turning around the Earth and that were: Saturn, Jupiter, Mars, Sun, Venus, Mercury and the Moon. These astronomical maps also showed the position of Earth in relation to the celestial bodies and provided explanations for the Moon phases and climate coordinates as well. Every planet is associated with a specific Zodiac sign, as well as with two marvelous presentations of landscape, town or interior each, painted in a very realistic manner. These miniatures precede and follow astronomical Radić Šestić, M. i dr.: The beginnings of education of the deaf persons: Renaissance Europe (XIV-XVI Century) 161 drawings which illustrate astronomical situations on visible parts of the sky and represent fantastic accomplishments of the Renaissance. The accomplishments of talented deaf persons in the Renaissance period are the proof that the deaf people even without organized training found the way to communicate with their environment. Their results represent the first indications of the possibilities of successful training of the deaf through education (Marschark, Lang, Albertini, 2002:20). By creating artistic works the deaf persons demonstrate their intellectual capacities and contradict the popular belief that they are the „primitive” and non-productive members of society (Mirzoeff, 1995:3). The role of art in the Renaissance period could not be underestimated at all. It is not only the means for the deaf persons to prove their values and abilities, but it is also an „activism which helps the deaf persons to express their identity.” (Mirzoeff, 1995:12) Instead of the Conclusion Regardless of the enormous progress in the education of the deaf which was brought by the Renaissance, all the attempts of their education from this period were individual, isolated and sporadic efforts of the philanthropists or physicians who have trained one or more deaf children and left direct or incidental record of their method. Since pupils were mostly children from the families that belong to the ruling class, the ideology of that class determined the goal of upbringing and education of the deaf, and it was mastering speech for the purpose of communication with the environment which consisted of hearing people. Through the entire Renaissance period no overall educational system was developed, nor has the broader final goal of the education of the deaf been established. Everything amounted to mastering oral speech within the boundaries of individual possibilities. Every author considered his method the best and unique, by which one could achieve the best results (Savić, 1966: 64). Nevertheless, the general social change which was brought by the Renaissance, thanks to the scientific approach to the problem of deafness, as well as to the extraordinary deaf individuals who made humanity their debtor for their work and Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. 162 thus proved that they are capable for productive life and work, made possible to lay the foundations for the organized educational work with the deaf which has appeared in Europe in the XVIII century. Also, the Renaissance exploitation of visually-kinesthetic communication systems represents the beginning of their acceptance and is essential for their modern history, as well as the position they have in the contemporary world (Bragg, 1997:24). Two courses have developed during the period which followed the Renaissance, whose representatives were the physicians that tried to merge medicine with pedagogical procedures in their work with the deaf children. The representatives of the English course developed the teaching of the Spanish school, so that they, besides speech also used writing, finger alphabet and gesture in their work, while the representatives of the Dutch course developed their own system of training the deaf based on the application of oral speech exclusively. However, in terms of individual training of the deaf no one felt the need to organize special institutions for their training, considering that all children that have been trained by then were from the aristocratic families, who didn’t care for the overall education of the deaf. LITERATURA 1. Abel, E. (1980). On Female Identity and Writing in Women, University of Chicago Press. 2. Albrecht, L.G. (2006): Encyclopedia of Disability, University of Illinois, Chicago. 3. Bojanin, S., Blagojević, D., Buljančević, M. i sar. (1999). De- fektoloski leksikon, Zavod za udžbenike i nastavna sredstva, Beograd. 4. Bragg, L. (1997). Visual-Kinetic Communication in Europe before 1600: A Survey of Sign Lexicons and Finger Alphabets Prior to the Rise of Deaf Education, Journal of Deaf Studies and Deaf Education 2 (1) 15-24.  5. Branson, J., Miller, D. (2002). Damned for their Difference: The Cultural Construction of Deaf People as Disabled A Sociological History, Washington, D.C. Radić Šestić, M. i dr.: The beginnings of education of the deaf persons: Renaissance Europe (XIV-XVI Century) 163 6. Bryan, M. (2007). Dictionary of Painters and Engravers, Biographical and Critical (Volume II L-Z) (London, 1889); Original from Fogg Library, Digitized May 18, 2007: George Bell and Sons. 7. Cagle, K., M. (2010). Exploring the Ancestral Roots of American Sign Language: Lexical Borrowing from Cistercian Sign Language and French Sign Language, The University of New Mexico Albuquerque, New Mexico, dissertation. 8. Clarke, M., Clarke, D. (2002). The Concise Grove Dictionary of Art Terms, Oxform University Press. 9. Davies, M. (1961). National Gallery Catalogues: Catalogue of the Earlier Italian Schools, National Gallery Catalogues, London. 10. Dimić, N. (1996). Metodika artikulacije, Defektološki fakultet, Beograd. 11. Kovačević, J. (2003). Didaktički sistemi u školovanju gluvih, DDJ, Beograd. 12. Krleža, M. (1967). Enciklopedija leksikografskog zavoda, vol 5, Zagreb. 13. Laderchi, C. (1856). La pittura ferrarese, memorie, Ferrara, Italy. 14. Marschark, M., Lang, H. G., Albertini, J., A. (2002). Educating Deaf Students from Research to Practice, Oxford University Press, New York. 15. Mirzoeff, N. (1995). Silent Poetry: Deafness, Sign, and Visual Culture in Modern France. Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press. 16. Padden, Carol A., Tom, L. Humphries (2005). Inside Deaf Culture. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press. 17. Plann, S. (1997). A Silent Minority: Deaf Education in Spain, 1550-1835. University of California Press, Berkeley. 18. Savić, Lj., Maslić, F. (1974). Pregled opšte istorije surdopedagogije, Defektološki fakultet, Beograd. 19. Savić, Lj., Ivanović, P. (1994). Surdopedagogija, Defektološki fakultet, Beograd. Specijalna edukacija i rehabilitacija (Beograd), Vol. 11, br. 1. 147-165, 2012. 164 20. Savić, Lj. (1996). Teorija i praksa specijalnog školstva u Srbiji do drugog svetskog rata, Savezni odbor Saveza gluvih Jugoslavije, Beograd. 21. Tervoort, A. (2005). The Iter Italicum and the Northern Netherlands: Dutch Students at Italian Universities and their Role in the Netherlands’ Society (1426-1575), Leiden and Boston: Brill Academic Publisher. 22. Van Cleve, J. V. (1987). Gallaudet Encyclopedia of Deaf People and Deafness, vol 1, vol 2, New York: McGraw-Hill Book Company. 23. Van Cleve, J. V. (1993). Deaf History Unveiled: Interpretations from the New Scholarship, Washington, D.C .Gallaudet University Press. Radić Šestić, M. i dr.: The beginnings of education of the deaf persons: Renaissance Europe (XIV-XVI Century) 165 POČECI OBRAZOVANJA GLUVIH OSOBA: RENESANSNA EVROPA (XIV-XVI VEK) Marina Radić Šestić*, Nadežda Dimić*, Mia Šešum** Univerzitet u Beogradu Fakultet za specijalnu edukaciju i rehabilitaciju* Ministarstvo unutrašnjih poslova RS** Sažetak Cilj ovog rada je da ukaže na preokret u odnosu društva prema gluvim osobama koji je doneo istorijski period renesanse, od XIV do XVI veka. Poznato je da su u srednjem veku hendikepirane osobe bile marginalizovane od strane šire društvene zajednice i da se smatralo da je milosrdno zbrinjavanje pri crkvama i manastirima jedini legiti- man oblik pomoći onima koje je Bog odredio da ispaštaju grehe preda- ka. Slabljenje autoriteta crkve i napredak nauke u XV veku dovode do pojačanog interesovanja za medicinu, što se odražava i na stavove stručnjaka prema gluvim osobama, za koje počinju aktivnije da se zanimaju. Renesansa je iznedrila prve učitelje gluvih, kao i prve gluve umetnike koji su bili priznati i cenjeni od strane društva, što je presud- no uticalo na promenu shvatanja gluvoće i stava prema mogućnostima gluvih. Sve ovo je doprinelo postavljanju temelja za organizovani edu- kativni rad sa gluvima, koji se u Evropi javlja u XVIII veku. Ključne reči: društvo, renesansa, obrazovanje, gluve i nagluve sobe, znakovni jezik Primljeno: 9.01.2012. Prihvaćeno: 20.2.2012. 
work_ljd3ap6h55bnzna2drvcx4ydyu	----	166 American Archivist / Vol. 59 / Spring 1996 History and Special Interests A Historian's Experience of Architectural Collections CHRISTOPHER THOMAS Abstract: Studies by the author of the history of the architecture and architects of Canadian post offices and of the Lincoln Memorial demonstrate the usefulness of architectural rec- ords. Because architectural design is not undertaken in isolation, the influences it and the architect receive from outside sources can be discovered through the review of a variety of architectural records. There is no single definition of what does or should make up an architectural collection. The historical value of such records for a variety of research purposes suggests that collections should be kept complete and intact to the extent possible, guaranteeing their availability for the many sorts of architectural record users. About the author: Christopher Thomas studied Art History at the University of Toronto and Yale University and has published on subjects ranging from nineteenth-century Victorian Gothic archi- tecture in Canada and Britain to the work of Arthur Erickson in the 1950s. He is the author o/The Architecture of the West Building, National Gallery of Art, and a forthcoming study of the Lincoln Memorial in the context of American culture and politics. Thomas teaches the history of art and architecture at the University of Victoria, British Columbia. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 A Historian's Experience 167 THE IMPORTANCE OF CONSULTING original architectural records was borne in on me early. As an M. A. student in art history at the University of Toronto in 1976, I participated in a seminar on Canadian architectural drawings, and I chose as the topic of my paper and presentation the post office and custom house in Stratford, Ontario, built in the early 1880s (figure 1). Since it was demolished many years ago, any existing photographs of it are quite old. At the time, the only important writing on early Canadian post offices was a passage by Douglas Richardson (who in fact was conducting the seminar) in Ontario Towns, published two years before: In the 1880s the Dominion Government added an important series of urban structures which were truly landmarks: the Post Offices. . . . They were designed as two-and-a- half storey rectangular buildings with a one-storey extension at the rear. The longer face was turned to the street, taller than it was wide, and had a high gable in the centre. There was a door to either side, one for the Post Office and one for Customs. [The architect's] manner was a distinctive combination of French Renaissance com- position and High Victorian Gothic detailing—a forceful mixture of massively-pro- portioned blocks with roughly-textured surfaces, incorporating rhythmically-varied but strongly-grouped elements.1 The description pretty much fits the building shown in figure 1, perhaps not in every detail, but generally. Richardson goes on to say that all these buildings had the "strongest family resemblance," since all emanated from the office of Thomas Fuller . . . the English architect who had emigrated to Canada in 1856, won the competition for the Centre Block of the parliamentary complex at Ottawa in 1859, then worked extensively in the United States before returning to Ottawa as Dominion Architect in 1881.2 That all the post office designs were by Fuller created, in effect, an unbroken line of succession between the Parliament Buildings (figure 2) and the local federal buildings, making them "branch plants" in design as well as in function, a pattern the Stratford post office seemed to fit to a tee. So, obedient student that I was, I went off to research my paper on this "typical" example of the "Fuller post office." The key source on Dominion public buildings of the period is a set of bound volumes of drawings and specifications from the Chief (or Dominion) Architect's office in the Department of Public Works in Ottawa, which are now in departmental records in the National Archives of Canada. There I found drawings for the Stratford post office, in- cluding a plan of the ground floor, in one corner of which is a handwritten note: "Ap- proved of by Minister / Sept. [indecipherable] 1881 / Thos S. Scott." Scott was Fuller's predecessor as Chief Architect. He retired on September 9, 1881, and, at the end of Oc- tober, Fuller returned from the United States to replace him. So the Stratford post office 'Ralph Greenhill, Ken Macpherson, and Douglas Richardson, Ontario Towns ([Ottawa:] Oberon, 1974), unpaginated. The quotation is from the chapter "Public Buildings and Schools." 2Greenhill et al., Ontario Towns. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 168 American Archivist / Spring 1996 Figure 1. Post office, customs, and inland revenue building, Stratford, Ontario, begun 1881, de- molished 1961. Photograph from the 1950s. (Courtesy of Stratford Beacon-Herald.) was designed, if not by Scott, at least under him; but in all events, not by Fuller, as I had believed.3 'The issue is treated fully in the author's article "Architectural Image for the Dominion: Scott, Fuller D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 A Historian's Experience 169 Figure 2. Fuller & Jones, Parliament Buildings for United Province of Canada, Ottawa, 1859-1866. (Courtesy of National Archives of Canada.) Well, so what? Doesn't this just show how bureaucratic bureaucratic design really is? What does it matter if a building was designed by one government architect instead of another? In theory, not much, but in this case a link had been forged, using the ar- chitect's identity, between a key symbol of the Dominion—the Parliament Buildings— and local government offices. The year I made this discovery, 1976, was the end of about a decade of heightened Canadian nationalism, which had begun in 1964 or 1965 with the preparations for the centennial of confederation in 1967. During that period, Canadians were conditioned to find national significance in all kinds of phenomena, among them architecture. The mere fact that we were studying Dominion public buildings of the era after confederation was indicative of the mood. So the tie, through Fuller, between the Parliament Buildings in Ottawa and the post offices in local communities bore a subliminal message of nationhood. Yet here was evidence that the post office type—not all or even the best of its manifestations, to be sure, but the type—had been defined before Fuller returned, and, even more damaging to a nationalist interpretation, from the United States. Furthermore, the drawings for the Stratford post office were signed by T. S. Scott, who is generally considered a skilled administrator but a bit of a nonentity in design, and, worse, an advocate of the Second Empire mode, marked by lavish, layered orders and and the Stratford Post Office," Journal of Canadian Art History 3 (Fall 1976): 83-94. For information on Fuller, including a bibliography, see the author's sketch of him in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. XII (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 1990), 343^16. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 170 American Archivist / Spring 1996 bulbous mansard roofs of a kind inspired by the design of the wings added to the Louvre in the early 1850s.4 Of all nineteenth-century period revival styles disparaged by critics of our time, none has received more opprobrium than Second Empire. It is eclectic, "im- pure," and garish, like an overstuffed Victorian parlor, and, for Canadians, has the added tarnish of association with the post-Civil War era in the United States. The building erected to house the State, War, and Navy Departments in Washington (now the Old Executive Office Building) is an example. Indeed, its designer, supervising architect of the U.S. Treasury Alfred B. Mullett, was asked by the Canadian Public Works Department to propose a design for a new post office to be built in Toronto, and his sample design was probably followed quite closely.5 Although this occurred about a year before Scott was appointed Chief Architect, his period at the Public Works Department is identified with this type of florid Franco-American imagery. So it was no small matter in the mind of an earnest Canadian graduate student that Fuller, the specialist in Victorian Gothic who had designed our parliament buildings with all their medieval and British associations, could not be considered the founding genius behind the post office type seen in Stratford. This was my first brush with architectural documents, but hardly my last. Over and over again I have found that consulting the original record challenges received ideas and alters the intellectual gestalt of a question. This is the reason historians find research in primary materials essential. But what should be kept for consultation? Again, an illustration from experience may help; but I would precede it with a general observation. In recent years the scholarship of architecture, like that of most areas of the human- ities, has grown exponentially in kind and quantity, and it is only a slight exaggeration to say that the history of architecture today is a different field from the one I entered in 1976. In the mid-1980s, the journal Art Bulletin asked Marvin Trachtenberg to write an overview of recent literature in architectural history; it appeared in the June 1988 issue. At the outset, he confessed himself flummoxed by the task, which to my mind you could compare to the parable of the blind men who were asked to describe an elephant and each answered differently, depending on which part of the animal he touched. You probably know the story: one said, "An elephant is rough and deeply veined;" another, "It is like the trunk of a tree;" and still another, "It is loose and floppy, like a big leaf." Recent writing in the history of architecture is something like that—some, formalist; some, rooted in social and political history; some, Marxist or feminist in orientation; some, based in recent critical theory, and so on. Trachtenberg summarized the situation, which has only grown more polyglot since he wrote, by observing that scholars today are generally less interested than their prede- cessors in, as he put it, "the 'horizontal' connections between formal events . . . the internal stylistic process" and more interested in what he called "the external process, the 'vertical' processes by which architecture relates to everything else."6 That is, architecture is less "For information on Scott, see the article by Dana Johnson in Dictionary of Canadian Biography, vol. XII, 957-59, and Janet Wright, "Thomas Seaton Scott: The Architect versus the Administrator," Journal of Canadian Art History 6 (1982): 202-19. On Canadian federal design in the period more generally, see By Federal Design: The Chief Architect's Branch of the Department of Public Works, 1881-1914 (Ottawa: Ministry of Supply and Services, 1983). 5Christina Cameron and Janet Wright, Second Empire Style in Canadian Architecture, Canadian Historic Sites: Occasional Papers in Archaeology and History, no. 24 (Ottawa: National Historic Parks and Sites Branch of Parks Canada of Environment Canada, 1980), 50. '"Some Observations on Recent Architectural History," Art Bulletin 70 (June 1988): 212. (The entire article is on pages 208-241.) D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 A Historian's Experience 171 Figure 3. Lincoln Memorial, Washington, D.C. 1911-1922. (Courtesy of Commission of Fine Arts.) often viewed in isolation from other forms of activity and discourse than before, although its previous isolation should not be exaggerated. While this is a healthy trend in scholar- ship, it poses a challenge for those in charge of research collections, for, at a time when a researcher is as likely to be looking up train schedules or strikes in the building trades as at an architect's diaries, it is not always clear just what an architectural collection is. My experience in researching my dissertation (and soon, 1 hope, book) on the Lin- coln Memorial in Washington, D.C. (figure 3) and its architect, Henry Bacon, is typical of the trend I have described.7 It included, as core material, an investigation of how, in 1911, when the memorial was begun, Americans remembered and understood Lincoln and the Civil War; what attempts had been made to memorialize him in Washington before and why they had failed; and how the memorial has been used as a site for private contemplation and public debate since its dedication in 1922. I was even led into the history of the automobile, since, between 1908 and 1913, the emerging motor industry tried to divert the funds and feelings for Lincoln into a plan for the federal government to build an interstate highway in his honor. (It failed, incidentally.) My project is not unique; in fact, it is probably close to the norm of architectural scholarship now, and in surveying new literature in architectural history, one is struck by its particularity and heterogeneity of approach. For instance, many of the most satisfying new studies are close, multidimensional readings of single sites or issues, in the form of 'Christopher Thomas, "The Lincoln Memorial and Its Architect, Henry Bacon (1866-1924)," Ph.D. dissertation, Department of History of Art, Yale University, 1990. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 172 American Archivist / Spring 1996 long articles, books, and exhibitions. This means, however, that no single archives or library can do everything for the researcher; the list of desiderata is simply too long. It also means that certain types of documents previously thought marginal are starting to be considered. For example, it has long been the practice of architectural historians to confine their research quite closely to the architect's process of design, as distinct from the build- ing's construction or the architect's collaboration with builders, consultants, reviewing bodies, and so on. So design drawings and the architect's words, in the form of autograph letters, interviews, and the like, have been the mother lode for researchers. While this is not likely to change fundamentally—why should it?—it is an approach that overlooks much of value. Whole categories of records tend to be bypassed: building contracts and the working drawings and specifications that accompany them (which make tedious reading but can be revealing), and records of construction such as change-orders and builders' correspondence. As the materiality of buildings and their place in social and cultural history receive more attention, we can expect such documents to grow in usefulness. But back to Bacon and the Lincoln Memorial. I was fortunate in that, after his death in 1924, Bacon's office records, library, and even his office furniture were given to the library of Wesleyan University in Middletown, Connecticut. It is a most unusual collection which affords unique access to the mind of a skilled modern classical designer. But, sadly, before giving them to Wesleyan, his heirs culled the papers brutally, leaving the design drawings for the Lincoln Memorial (figure 4), but jettisoning what may have been hun- dreds, even thousands, of more prosaic sheets, and most records of his other projects. A few sets of working drawings of other buildings were kept; but for most, including his projects for settings of monuments (of which he did well over a hundred), only one sheet was usually kept, and nothing else: no textual material whatsoever. As a result, I have had to research those projects from the client's end, so to speak, adding immeasurably to the task. The moral for architects, executors, and archivists is to resist, whenever possible, the temptation to discard, for you never know who will want what, when, and why. In Bacon's case, particularly, the lacunae have had serious results. A modest, per- sonable man not given to self-promotion, he was, nevertheless (thanks to the Lincoln Memorial), one of America's best-known architects in the early 1920s, when Louis Sul- livan and Frank Lloyd Wright were in eclipse. In 1923, he was awarded the American Institute of Architects' highest honor, the Gold Medal. But he died a year later and, unlike Daniel Chester French, who modeled the figure for the memorial statue of Lincoln inside, he was survived by no one in his family with the skills and temperament to perpetuate his memory. When the modern classicism that was his specialty fell from favor around World War II, he was all but forgotten. Not only is most of his other work unknown, making it hard to understand why the Lincoln Memorial Commission chose him as its consulting architect in the first place, but even his role in that project has been downplayed. I have met people who think the statue is the memorial! Yet, if anything, just the opposite is true, for French was commissioned to model a figure for a memorial that was already under construction. So, without claiming that Bacon's other work is as important as the Lincoln Memorial or that he alone was responsible for it, I would suggest that the picture formed of him has been inaccurate and has done his memory a disservice. For all their limitations, though, the Bacon papers at Wesleyan are uniquely valuable, and I spent several months in 1986 working with them, piecing together the story of the memorial, reconstructing Bacon's career, and trying to enter his mind vicariously by skim- ming his library and picture collection. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 A Historian's Experience 173 Figure 4. Henry Bacon, detail drawing of entablature at southeast or "Delaware" corner of Lincoln Memorial. (Courtesy of Henry Bacon Collection, Wesleyan University.) Meanwhile, other collections in Boston and New York were helpful in tracing Ba- con's training and early practice. In 1889, he won, hands down, the Rotch Travelling Scholarship, administered by the Boston Society of Architects, whose records I consulted D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 174 American Archivist / Spring 1996 in Cambridge. In 1888-1889 and again in 1891-1903 (and intermittently thereafter) Bacon worked as a designer for McKim, Mead & White, especially Charles McKim, on projects like the Rhode Island State House, a design to which his contributions were crucial. The office papers of McKim, Mead & White, perhaps the most important architectural firm in the eastern United States around 1900, are divided between the New-York Historical So- ciety and the drawings collection of the Avery Architectural and Fine Arts Library at Columbia University. After leaving McKim, Bacon continued to practice in New York City and had many commissions in the Manhattan area. Perhaps the best known is a savings bank in Union Square, which is still standing—and I have had to turn for help to many agencies and repositories in the city. Because his major design, the Lincoln Memorial, was built by a commission ap- pointed by Congress, assisted (and sometimes hindered) by the Secretary of War, the key repository of documents on the memorial is the National Archives and Records Admin- istration, in Washington, D.C., with textual records and still pictures in the archives proper and drawings at the graphics annex, then in Alexandria, Virginia. The memorial's con- struction was supervised by the Army Corps of Engineers, so the memorial commission's records are filed in Record Group 42, among those of the Corps' office of public buildings and grounds, which at that time was responsible for federal parks and properties in Wash- ington. The papers of the Commission of Fine Arts, Record Group 66, were also helpful because the Commission reviewed the memorial's design and all changes to it and its setting. (Indeed, the Lincoln Memorial was the first large project to which the Commission of Fine Arts, founded in 1910, contributed.) My problem in dealing with the National Archives was the reverse of what I had faced at Wesleyan: every memorandum and change order concerning the memorial, re- gardless of how minor, had been filed with a thoroughness known only to army engineers, and the records of the project occupy most of a section of shelving. I would probably still be working there had I not been selective. Reasoning that all important questions of design would have been reviewed by the memorial commission and the Commission of Fine Arts, I emphasized their minutes and correspondence, along with the drawings in Alexandria, dipping into the Corps of Engineers' construction records only for correspondence with Bacon. So I did just what I have taken architectural historians to task for, but even at that, spent eight or ten weeks in the records and accumulated enough information on the me- morial's construction (as opposed to its design) to publish a long article on its marblework alone.8 Several other archives in Washington were also helpful, including those of the Amer- ican Institute of Architects and its foundation; the drawings, photographs, and manuscript collections of the Library of Congress; and the photographs collection of the Commission of Fine Arts, material which was not transferred to the National Archives, including period views of the memorial, such as the one in figure 3. The Architect of the Capitol's collection also proved remarkably rich. Though the seat of a great democracy, Washington is a nest of fiefdoms, and because a proposal was entertained in 1908-1909 to build the Lincoln Memorial on or near the grounds of the Capitol, its architect commissioned a study of ways a memorial could be incorporated in the composition. This is part of the prehistory of the present memorial. "Christopher Thomas, "The Marble of the Lincoln Memorial: 'Whitest, Prettiest, and . . . Best,'" Wash- ington History 5 (Fall/Winter 1993/4): 42-63. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 A Historian's Experience 175 But enough of this. You get the message: conscientious historical research requires attentive study of the record, and in its absence scholarship suffers, historical treatment is superficial, and truisms and legends are repeated from generation to generation. Of course, the opposite is also true—that excessive attention to detail leads to constipated scholarship that no one reads or learns from, and striking balance is, perhaps, the historian's toughest task. The projects I have described would have been impossible without liberal access to archival collections of architectural materials. Architectural archives are an aid to memory, fleshing it out, exposing its omissions, and righting its overbalances. Does this eliminate talent, even genius, from architectural history? No, for in good design two and two always add up to five. But it does invite reflection on the nature of talent and how it negotiates contingencies like clients' often inconsistent demands, limits on time and money, the design context, structural systems, and shifting tastes in style. With these examples I rest my case. In recounting them I have tried to make two points: that architectural records are a vital resource for historians and the community at large and should be so recognized in practice and before the law; and that, given the variety of scholarly approaches today, where possible, whole bodies of records should be preserved intact. All of us, across the range of our specialties, have an interest in opening a way to guarantee more effectively the preservation of architectural collections for the sake of that elusive, wonderful stranger—posterity. D ow nloaded from http://m eridian.allenpress.com /doi/pdf/10.17723/aarc.59.2.b18x626645453251 by C arnegie M ellon U niversity user on 06 A pril 2021 
work_ljeijh6yujh2jdwu72pzus2gpi	----	Franks JAH Journal of Art Historiography Number 18 June 2018 ‘A desire for the National Good’: Sir Augustus Wollaston Franks and the curatorship of Renaissance decorative art in Britain, 1840-1900 Eloise Donnelly Figure 1 Augustus Wollaston Franks, c.1870, British Museum BEP Archive. © The Trustees of the British Museum. In 1847, while still an undergraduate at Trinity College Cambridge, Augustus Wollaston Franks wrote to the trustees of the British Museum requesting permission to publish an account of the impressions from the monumental brasses preserved in the Museum Print Room.1 The letter marks the beginnings of a career spent devoted to the study and enhancement of the Museum collections. Spanning the second half of the nineteenth century, the period between Franks’s appointment as a museum officer in 1851 and his death in 1897 witnessed a burgeoning culture of exhibition and display, the establishment of new local, regional and national museum collections and the reshaping of the decorative art trade from the individual 1 British Museum (BM) Trustees’ Minutes, 11 December 1847. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 2 curiosity shop towards a systematised international art market.2 As a scholar, advisor and curator on the one hand, and an insatiable collector, donor and lender on the other, Franks provides a fascinating point of intersection within the intricate networks of private and public art collecting that occupied this emerging cultural realm. While Franks’s biographical history, and the role he played within the British Museum’s institutional history have been the subject of recent studies, the following discussion seeks to focus in on Franks’s influence on the concept of curatorship, and to consider how his relationships and associations with fellow curators, collectors and connoisseurs helped define and reinforce the idea of the modern museum professional.3 Firstly by examining Franks’s approach to curating at the British Museum, and secondly by investigating his place within the contemporary antiquarian milieu, this article will argue that Franks’s appointment in 1851 marks a shift away from the culture of the amateur collector towards a more distinct and systematic approach to curatorship. * Born into a wealthy, privileged family in Geneva in 1826, Franks occupied both the aristocratic and plutocratic social spheres that were to shape the art market in the second half of the nineteenth century. His mother was the daughter of Sir John Seabright, a Baronet with estates in Worcestershire and Hertfordshire, while his father descended from a family of bankers. He was also heir to a long line of collectors, and Franks was already displaying symptoms of what he termed ‘the collecting disease’ by the time he went up to Cambridge in 1845.4 His engagement with medieval art, spurred on by participation in the Cambridge Architectural Society, the Cambridge Antiquarian Society, and the Cambridge Camden Society, manifested in his early accumulations of brass rubbings, a subject leading to his precocious interest in the Museum’s impressions of monumental brasses. At the time of Franks’s letter to the trustees in 1847, however, the collections of European medieval and Renaissance objects at the British Museum were still in their infancy. Two years later, Edward Hawkins, the keeper of antiquities, declared ‘our collection of medieval antiquities is very small indeed; that is to say, things later than the fourteenth century,’5 and the department’s acquisitions and displays concentrated on classical and Egyptian objects. Yet a growing interest in medieval 2 For more on the public art sphere in the nineteenth century, see Giles Waterfield, The People’s Galleries: Art Museums and Exhibitions in Britain, 1800--1914, New Haven, Yale University Press, 2015; Brandon Taylor, Art for the nation: exhibitions and the London public, 1747-2001, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 1999; Pamela M. Fletcher and Anne Helmreich, eds, The rise of the modern art market in London 1850-1939, Manchester, Manchester University Press, 2011. 3 For Franks’s biography and contribution to the British Museum collections, see Marjorie L Caygill and John Cherry, eds, A.W. Franks : nineteenth-century collecting and the British Museum, London, British Museum Press, 1997; For Franks’s role within the broader institutional history of the British Museum, see David M. Wilson, The British Museum: a history, London, British Museum Press, 2002. 4 Augustus Wollaston Franks, ‘The Apology of my Life’, in Caygill and Cherry eds A.W. Franks: Nineteenth-Century Collecting and the British Museum, Appendix 1, 318. 5 Report of the Commissioners appointed to inquire into the Constitution and Government of the British Museum; with minutes of evidence, London, 1850, 20 March 1849, para. 8180. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 3 and Renaissance decorative art amongst private collectors, antiquarians and ecclesiologists had led to calls for the Museum to move into this area of collecting, pressure compounded by an awareness of the expanding collections at the Louvre and Royal Museum in Berlin and fears of Britain being left behind in the race for objects.6 In 1850 a gallery assigned for the adequate display of medieval and Renaissance works of art was finally completed, and Hawkins appealed to the trustees for an additional officer to oversee the collections.7 Franks had graduated just a year earlier, but was already well established within the antiquarian community.8 He was playing a central role in the Archaeological Institute, arranging its collections and organising events, and had served as secretary for the taste- making exhibition of Works of Ancient and Mediaeval Art at the Society of Arts in 1850, the first public exhibition of such material in Britain.9 Franks was nevertheless intending to study for the bar, and hesitated in accepting the position at the Museum, in case it was considered ‘infra dig’ for a gentleman of means,10 a remark highlighting the significance of the appointment. While his superior, Hawkins, had been educated at grammar school, working in banks in Macclesfield and Swansea before joining the museum aged forty-five, Franks was a wealthy member of the aristocracy, attending Eton and Cambridge, and at ease in the company of the nobles and politicians active as trustees and within learned societies. This background equipped him with the social and financial confidence to mould the appointment, and concept of curatorship, according to his own understanding of the social and intellectual function of the Museum. Franks’s primary focus as a curator was on expanding the collections. In 1885 he reflected that careful collecting was essential to the very existence of a museum, ‘to avoid the possibility of the institution becoming a fossil, as has been the case, for instance, at the Soane Museum.’11 As a collector himself, Franks arrived at the Museum with an acute understanding of the market, and an awareness not only that Britain had been slow to develop its Renaissance collections in comparison with its European counterparts; but, moreover, that it had squandered opportunities to 6 Commission Report, 1850, 38–9. 7 BM Trustees’ Minutes, 12 June 1850. 8 In fact, at the same Board Meeting Hawkins requested leave to attend the annual Archaeological Institute annual gathering in Oxford later that month, where Franks delivered a paper asserting the historic significance of enamels. A. W. Franks, ‘On Certain Ancient Enamels’, Archaeological Journal, 8: 1, January 1851, 51–64. 9 Augustus Wollaston Franks, Catalogue of Works of Ancient and Mediaeval Art, exhibited at the House of the Society of Arts, London, 1850., Chiswick, C. Whittingham, 1850. 10 In his memoir, undated but as Fiona Wright suggests written in February or March 1893, Franks followed this anecdote with the reflection that now 'Times are changed', suggesting that curatorship had become a more appealing career for the wealthy elites. Franks, ‘The Apology of my Life’, 319. 11 BM Trustees’ Minutes, 19 February 1885. The collections of the architect Sir John Soane (1753-1837) were bequeathed to the Nation via an Act of Parliament on the condition that the collection was preserved and kept intact, thereby prohibiting any future acquisitions or deaccessions. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 4 secure importance pieces.12 His commitment to collecting manifested in a succession of early acquisitions. He bought the collection of maiolica assembled by James Hamilton within just a few months of his appointment,13 the first maiolica purchase since Sir Hans Sloane’s founding bequest in 1753,14 and made the Museum’s first foreign buying trip to acquire Renaissance objects in 1854.15 This proactive acquisition strategy was a marked departure from the prevailing climate at the Museum, where the role of the curator was viewed primarily as an office of custodianship.16 Two years prior to Franks’s appointment, the Royal Commission on the British Museum had reported that it considered the institution to be ‘essentially a repository for the conservation and arrangement of a vast variety of material objects’, housing collections that resulted from ‘casual acquisition by gift, or by purchase not regulated with a view to systematic illustration of historical periods.’17 Frank’s strategic, targeted buying of Renaissance art fundamentally altered the character of the Museum. As he reflected forty years later: When I was appointed to the Museum in 1851 the scanty collections out of which the department has grown occupied a length of 154 feet of wall cases, and 3 or 4 table cases. The collections now occupy 2250 feet in length of wall cases, 90 table cases and 31 upright cases, to say nothing of the numerous objects placed over the cases or on walls.18 His initiative is all the more remarkable given the limited purchase grant assigned to his department, which underlined the inferior status of medieval and Renaissance art within the Museum collections, as well as the wider antipathy towards such objects amongst the trustees.19 Shortly before Franks’s arrival at the Museum in 1851, Hawkins had declined the purchase of a ‘beautiful gold reliquary’ on the grounds that it would ‘frighten the ultra protestants out of their senses. Some of 12 For example, in 1832 an important silver gilt salver attributed to Cellini had been refused by the Trustees. Edward John Miller, That noble cabinet. A history of the British Museum, London, André Deutsch, 1973, 210. 13 See Paul Finney, ‘Abbé James Hamilton: antiquary, patron of the arts, Victorian Anglo- Catholic’, Through a Glass Brightly: Studies in Byzantine and Medieval Art and Archaeology Presented to David Buckton, Oxford, Oxbow Books, 2015, 190–198; Timothy Wilson and Dora Thornton, Italian Renaissance ceramics: a catalogue of the British Museum collection, London, British Museum Press, 2009, 8–9. 14 Wilson and Thornton, Italian Renaissance ceramics, 5. 15 Franks travelled to France, buying objects from the Bouvier Collection in Amiens and from dealers in Paris. BM Officers’ Reports, 7 June 1855. 16 See also Charles Newton’s letter to Antony Panizzi, 9 November 1856: ‘The Keepership of the Department of Antiquities is pre-eminently an Office of Custody.’ 17 Commission Report, 35, 39. 18 Franks, ‘The Apology of my Life’, 324. 19 While the Board of Trustees at the time of Franks’s appointment included a handful of scientists and antiquarians such as William Rowan Hamilton (1805-1865) and Henry Hallam (1777-1859), the majority were titled, Conservative politicians and landowners; one of the most active was the Ultra-Tory Sir Robert Harry Inglis (1786-1855). Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 5 them already begin to fancy they perceive Popery lurking in the intricacies of medieval art.’20 That the subsequent growth and rise in status of the Museum’s collections of medieval and Renaissance art can be attributed almost entirely to Franks’s individual activities is underlined by comments made to Henry Cole by Antony Panizzi, director of the Museum 1856-66, that the Museum was ‘only for Books & Antiquities’, and that the collections, together with Franks himself, should be transferred to South Kensington.21 With limited funds and little institutional support, the networks Franks developed with art dealers, private collectors and museum colleagues both in Britain and on the continent were therefore critical to his success as a curator. Privileged access to sale schedules, price estimates and quality assessments enabled him to capitalise on opportunities to swell the Museum’s holdings by pinpointing the most valuable acquisitions early and allowing time to secure the necessary funds. The sale of the Soltykoff Collection in 1861 provides an illuminating example.22 Franks managed to get hold of the catalogue three weeks ahead of the auction, writing: I was fortunate enough to obtain a copy of it Tuesday evening, which I think it but right (in Mr. Birch’s absence) to forward to you that it may be submitted to the Trustees. I have seen Mr Webb this morning who returned last night from Paris and who has informed me that he believes that the sale will be conducted bona fide. I need hardly mention to you how important is this collection, the history of which is well known. It is now the property of Baron de Seillières who gave I believe 80,000 £ for it. He has ceded the European armour to the Emperor of the French and the Oriental to the Emperor of Russia but with those exceptions I believe that the rest of the collection is included in the Sale.23 20 Letter from Hawkins to Abbé James Hamilton, 13 January 1851, Scots College Archive, Rome, quoted in Finney, ‘Abbé James Hamilton: antiquary, patron of the arts, Victorian Anglo-Catholic’, 192. 21 Following the acquisition of objects from the celebrated Bernal Collection in July 1856 Cole records a meeting with Panizzi in which his counterpart ‘was quite willing that we shd have the Bernal objects, & wd assist: “Indeed the whole shd be handed over & even Franks with them.’ 18 July 1856, Cole Diaries, NAL 22 The celebrated collection of medieval and Renaissance art treasures belonging to Prince Peter Soltykoff was sold at the Hotel Drouot, Paris between 8 April and 1 May 1861, achieving a total of £72,000. Gerald Reitlinger, The economics of taste: The rise and fall of objets d'art prices since 1750, London, Barrie and Rockliff, 1963, 110–1. 23 BM Original Papers, 23 March 1861. John Webb (1799-1880) was a London dealer and agent who enjoyed close relationships with the British Museum and South Kensington Museum. See Clive Wainwright and Charlotte Gere, ‘The making of the South Kensington Museum IV Relationships with the trade: Webb and Bardini’, Journal of the History of Collections, 14: 1, May 2002, 63–78. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 6 Initially unable to travel to Paris himself, Franks drew on the advice and information of his colleagues in order to make assessments, acknowledging that ‘Mr. Robinson, the Curator of the South Kensington Museum has been kind enough to place his notes at my disposal so that I am now prepared to state to you more in detail which are objects which appear to be most important for the British Museum.’24 As well as using Robinson as a reference point Franks cites scholars from his network of colleagues, such as Comte Laborde, to support his proposals.25 With potential acquisitions identified, Franks visited Paris himself before the sale to examine it carefully prior to commissioning the dealer John Webb to bid on lots at the auction on the Museum’s behalf.26 The Soltikoff Sale provides a key illustration of how Franks effected a shift both in terms of the type and styles of objects collected, but also in terms of how the value of those objects was perceived. His purchases are targeted and specific, restricted to those that fill a gap in an existing series or of particular interest to academics, scholars and researchers, rather than those garnering most public attention.27 Proposing Lot 238, an ivory carving, he writes, ‘sculptures in this material are of great value to the student of the History of Art. They furnish him with the means of tracing successive changes of style more completely than even illuminated manuscripts.’28 (Fig. 2) Similarly, Lot 19, ‘a very curious book cover of German enamel’ is recommended because ‘it is covered with curious subjects and inscriptions of the 12th century which render it an important specimen for students of hagiography.’ Acquisitions were guided by a concern with representing styles, signatures or art historical developments, and completing existing series of specimens, in an analytical, taxonomic approach to objects that took influence from the sciences.29 24 BM Original Papers, 30 March 1861. For more on John Charles Robinson (1824-1913) see Charlotte Drew, below. 25 BM Original Papers, 12 April 1861. Count Léon de Laborde (1807-69) was responsible for the collections of medieval and Renaissance objects at the Louvre and his catalogues of the collections were repeatedly cited by Franks and his peers. 26 BM Trustees’ Minutes, 27th April 1861. In fact, the Museum only ended up acquiring one object, Lot 238, the ivory triptych (Inv.1861,0416.1), as other purchases were assigned to the South Kensington Museum. 27 BM Original Papers 30 March 1861. Perhaps the most celebrated item in the sale, the Gloucester Candlestick, was acquired by the South Kensington Museum (now V&A inv. 7649:1 to 3-1861). 28 The comment carries particular weight given the accepted pre-eminence of printed materials in the Museum collections at the time. 29 Franks’s purchases at the Bernal Sale, for example, sought ‘objects as are not only good of their kind, but which have on them a date, the name of an artist or some interesting historical association’ and were ‘principally valuable when kept together in Public Collections as the Historical Evidence of Art.’ They were also restricted to ‘only those portions of it which would enable us to improve our existing collections’. BM Officers’ Reports, 8 February 1855. At the Fountaine Sale, Franks noted that ‘the British Museum possesses but six specimens of Palissy ware, none of them of great importance, and in order to represent fairly this branch of ceramic art, it would be desirable to acquire a few of the specimens.’ BM Officers’ Reports, 7 May 1884. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 7 This approach clearly challenged the prevailing ethos at the Museum. In 1849 the Royal Commission cited the opinion of William Hamilton, a trustee, that ‘with respect to this department, the value of objects as works of art should be kept in view rather than their curiosity as illustrations of national or other history’, as the function of the collection was ‘rather for the improvement of the fine arts than merely as a historical collection of objects.’30 Having spent his formative years within the archaeological community, Franks’s approach to objects derived exactly from this understanding of material culture as evidence of the past, necessitating a scientific analysis of date and material and taxonomic arrangement by style and period. Moreover, he would have had a heightened awareness of calls from the archaeological community for the Museum to adopt a more systematic approach towards its collections, and a desire to establish modern curatorial practice in line with continental institutions.31 Perhaps the Department of Science and Art’s remit to collect medieval and Renaissance objects primarily for their artistic merit made Franks even more keen to assert their historical significance at the Museum and assemble a collection fit for purposes of archaeological study. His drive to expand the collections is vividly demonstrated in his dogged pursuit of key objects that had passed him by at auction, and the Book of Acquisitions testifies to his effectiveness as a negotiator. Having missed out on a ceramic ewer at auction, Franks found that the buyer Henry Wallis ‘was good enough to cede it to the Museum at the price he had paid’, and in 1892 he persuaded the wine merchant Henry Pfungst to relinquish a Flemish silver gilt fifteenth century casket at cost price to the Museum (Fig.3).32 Even when objects were not 30 Commission Report, Para. 10564. 31 The Commission Report, for example, had cited a letter from John Yonge Ackerman, and the Committee of the Archaeological Association, calling for the Museum to develop a systematic collection of objects for study. 32 The painter and collector Henry Wallis (1813-1916) gave and sold a large number of objects to the Museum; this reference possibly relates to Inv.1885,0711.1.a, a thirteenth century silver and brass jug from Herat. BM Officers’ Reports, 27 July 1885. The wine merchant and Figure 2 Triptych, 1330-40, ivory, 23.8cm x 20.6cm x 0.35cm, British Museum 1861,0416.1. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Acquired by Franks via the dealer John Webb at the Soltykoff Sale, 1861, Lot 238. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 8 secured by a collector within Franks’s circle of acquaintances he would continue to pursue items; a Trustees’ Report of the Spitzer Sale in Paris records that, despite finding ‘M. Dus-, the agent of the Spitzer family, very unwell…Mr. Franks was able to obtain the names of the purchasers of the desired lots.’33 A comment from Charles Hercules Read, Franks’s assistant and protégé, that ‘Altar candlesticks of this style and period are of very rare occurrence, so much so that Sir Wollaston Franks has never had an opportunity of securing an example at a moderate price during his keepership’ suggests that it was almost an anomaly to find a significant type or class of object that had passed Franks by.34 Figure 3. Shrine, fifteenth century, Switzerland, silver parcel-gilt and gold, l.24cm, British Museum, 1892,1013.1. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Indeed, Franks’s success at attracting private donations and gifts in the absence of official support marks him out as an exceptional networker, fundraiser and developer, and much of the breadth and depth of the collections of European antiquities is due directly to his powers of persuasion. At a board meeting in 1885, the trustees recognised that ‘the history of the Department of Antiquities will show collector Henry Pfungst (1844-1917) developed a close relationship with Franks through membership of the Society of Antiquaries. Inv.1892,1105.1; BM Officers’ Reports 3 October 1892. 33 BM Trustees’ Reports, 10 January 1894. 34 BM Trustees’ Reports, 27 August 1896. For competitors Franks’s determination must have been frustrating. The politician and armour collector Robert Curzon ruefully complained about Franks’s determination to secure objects for the nation, describing him as ‘horrid’ for refusing to sell a recently acquired helmet and wanting it to go to a museum ‘where it will never be seen no more’. Letter from Robert Curzon to Albert Way, 20 May 1867, BM BEP Archives. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 9 that their collections have been largely formed by donations’,35 and Franks himself drew their attention to the fact that since 1866 no special grant for purchase has been made to his department; and that the total amount of the purchase grants since 1866 amounts only to £8,020, whereas the collection has been enriched by gift or bequest to the value of £50,000.36 Part of Franks’s success lay in his ability to capitalise on individual gifts, using them to provide the justification to invest in complimentary objects or to expand the museum’s own purchases in a new direction. The bequest of the Morgan Collection of horological instruments in 1888 offers one of many such examples, which precipitated a succession of purchases of clocks, watches and astrolabes, justified ‘as the British Museum possesses already so large and valuable a collection of watches and dials, and chiefly derived from bequests, it is well to fill up gaps in the series.’37 Franks was sensitive to the fact that showing a commitment to collecting particular types of object often provoked collectors into donating similar objects. Lady Charlotte Schreiber gave ceramic specimens to the Museum ‘such as helped to complete the collection formed by Mr. Franks’, while pottery acquisitions that complemented those in the collection of Frederick Du Cane Godman were justified as ‘Mr. Franks thinks it will be judicious to acquire them for that reason, as tending to encourage Mr. Godman in his generous intentions towards the museum.’38 Other collectors presented objects that Franks had specifically identified as pertaining to the existing collections, or gave the Museum the option of first right of refusal on their death.39 While the bulk of the connoisseur Charles D.E. Fortnum’s collection was presented to the Ashmolean Museum, he donated several pieces to the British 35 BM Trustees’ Reports, 13 June 1885. 36 BM Trustees’ Reports, 28 June 1884. 37 BM Trustees’ Reports, 10 December 1890. The antiquarian and M.P. Octavius Morgan (1803-88) Franks’s ‘old and intimate friend of nearly forty years’ bequeathed his collection of clocks, dials and papal rings to the Museum via Franks in 1888, prompting Franks to acquire a number of similar objects from German dealers in 1890, including ‘a watch of curious contribution and a sundial of novel form’ bought for £42 from the Goldschmidt Brothers (Inv. 1890,1215.1, 1890,1215.2), and another sundial ‘in the form of a tower, quite unlike any objects in the collection’ for £30 from the Bourgeois Brothers of Cologne (Inv.1890,1216.1), as well as ‘An ancient French table clock’, also from the Goldschmidt brothers, as ‘there is only one in the Morgan Collection, and one other purchased by the Museum’ (Inv. 1891,0309.1). 38 Reg. 1889,0702.5. BM Trustees’ Reports, 3 July 1889; 11 June 1891. Franks advised Lady Charlotte Schreiber (1812-1895) on the formation and cataloguing of her collections of ceramics, playing cards, fans and other objects, and facilitated the bequest of her collections to the South Kensington Museum. Frederick du Cane Godman (1834-1919), ornithologist, ceramics collector and Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries left a collection of over 600 specimens of Hispano-Moresco and Islamic pottery to the Museum through his daughter in 1982. 39 When the residue of Morgan’s collection was sold, for example, ‘the executors had requested that Mr. Franks might have the first choice.’ BM Trustees’ Reports, 10 November 1888 Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 10 Figures 4 and 5: Dish, workshop of Girolamo dalle Gabicce, Pesaro, 1544, tin-glazed earthenware, 27cm x 5cm, British Museum, 1888,0905.1. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Donated to the Museum by Charles Drury Edward Fortnum, 1888. Museum, including an important maiolica dish bearing an inscription on the base (Figs.4-5), because ‘at Mr. Franks’s request Mr. Fortnum brought this dish to the Museum, to compare it with one in the collection, which proved to be by the same hand.’40 Franks’s network-building within the art trade further facilitated his expansion of the collections. John Warren, the 3rd Baron de Tabley, even suggested that rival buyers would concede to Franks in the sale room, commenting in a letter ‘your pull is so strong that you have no other purchasers to fear.’41 Certainly dealers were keen to assist Franks in his collecting; whether through offering favourable terms for payment, forgoing higher rewards from private collectors, or negating commission on purchases so as to encourage Franks’s acquisitions. These dealers also acted as intermediaries between curators and collectors. The diary of the merchant banker and celebrated collector Hollingworth Magniac (1786-1867) for 8th February 1860 records, ‘Fine day. Saw Franks, Robinson and Hawkins at Webbs’, suggesting that John Webb’s shop acted as a social space where introductions between public and private collectors could be made. 42 The relationship was mutually beneficial. Everard Green, of the College of Arms, recommended a particular dealer to the 15th Duke of Norfolk on the grounds that ‘Mr. Harding buys for the British Museum, & for Sir Wollaston Franks, & is most trustworthy’, suggesting that a link with Franks conferred a stamp of status and authenticity on dealers. Indeed, the fact that Franks’s name was recognised over and above his professional responsibilities here underlines his personal influence on the collecting environment and shows that the British Museum is not in and of itself the authority 40 Maiolica dish, Workshop of Girolamo dalle Gabicce, Pesaro, 1544. Reg. no: 1888,0905.1. BM Trustees’ Reports, 10 November 1888. 41 Letter from John Warren to Franks, 31 October 1889, BM BEP Archive. 42 Diary of Hollingworth Magniac, 1860, Mss Eur F197/620, British Library. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 11 or mark of status.43 These collecting networks gave Franks unrivalled insight into the circulation of art objects on the market. ‘I saw Wood yesterday & he told me that all the Marquise’s things will be sold, excepting a silver casket or shrine which cannot be found: so the ewer will be there. It is said to be the finest piece of Henry Deux ware known and will fetch a huge price’, he writes to Fortnum in 1892, adding that ‘Wertheimer’s stock is to be sold next month.’44 This knowledge gave him an advantage when it came to negotiating purchases, enabling him to bide his time if necessary until the circumstances were more favourable. The acquisition of the Meyrick Collection of arms, armour, and medieval and Renaissance objects in 1878 offers a revealing example. Franks wrote to Henry Cole, the first director of the South Kensington Museum, in April 1872 informing him that the collection was in the hands of the dealer S. Pratt: I saw Pratt who talked big & of an offer of £1000 made in Manchester for the Witham Shield. I told him that such a price was absurd & ended in saying I would give 250 for the shield and helmet…as Pratt is in Paris I wrote to the Colonel to say that it would not suit me to have my offer indefinitely left open & that I would give £310 if the two bronze shields were included (valued by Pratt at £40 each)...I have consulted several friends as to the value of objects & some of them exceed the sums we talked about.45 Although the government declined the purchase, Franks continued to monitor the collection’s traffic, writing again to Cole in October 1872 with the news that ‘Goldsmith at Frankfort told me that most of the Meyrick works of art were sold by him to a private gentleman in England.’46 Six years later, however, the relationship he had cultivated with the Meyrick family was to bear fruit when the remaining collection of 1554 objects were presented to the British Museum by Augustus Meyrick.47 (Fig.6). In this way Franks successfully leveraged his personal and professional networks to fund his ambitious acquisition programme in spite of governmental cuts to his purchase grant. He established syndicates of wealthy private collectors and connoisseurs to underwrite the cost of important purchases, most famously in the cases of the Fountaine Sale of 1884 and the acquisition of the Royal Gold Cup from Baron Pichon in 1893, and further capitalised on the political influence at his 43 Letter from Everard Green, Herald’s College, to the 15th Duke of Norfolk, 17 January 1896, MD 1681, Arundel Castle Archive. 44 27 February 1892, F2/iii/5, Fortnum Archive, Ashmolean Museum. 45 5 April 1873, Henry Cole Correspondence Archive, NAL 46 30 October 1872, Henry Cole Correspondence Archive, NAL. 47 The letter from Meyrick dated August 14th 1878 offers further information about the offer: ‘Some armour, chiefly Oriental, Ivories, & other curiosities, and my object in addressing you is to know if the “British Museum” would allow us to present them to it. It would bring pride & pleasure on my part to know that they were there.’ Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 12 disposal to influence key decision makers.48 (Fig. 7) Franks combined this approach with appeals to the appetite for medieval and Renaissance objects amongst the general public by putting syndicate purchases on display at the museum, to generate interest and add pressure to calls to secure them permanently for the national collections. Carefully considered, astute collecting was, for Franks, the hallmark of the effective curator. It was thus a highly skilled occupation, and Franks’s concerns about the staffing of his department underlines the increasing professionalisation of curatorial roles during his tenure. He employed Charles Hercules Read, then a secretary at the South Kensington Museum, ‘to assist in the arranging, cataloguing, 48 The Royal Gold Cup, 1370-80, France, pearl, gold, enamel, h.23.6cm. British Museum, 1892,0501.1. In advance of the Fountaine Sale, Franks received an invitation to dinner from the banker Bertram Wodehouse Currie, one of the subscribers, inviting Franks to dinner as ‘Mr. Gladstone has promised to come and there will be an opportunity for you to urge the purchase of the Fountaine treasury.’ Letter from Currie to Franks, 12 July 1884, BM BEP Archives. Figure 6 Salt-cellar, attributed to Leonard Limousin, Limoges, c.1550, enamel on copper, 7.9cm x 7.2cm, British Museum 1878,1101.19. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Part of Lt-Gen. Augustus W. H. Meyrick’s donation to the Museum in 1878. Figure 7 The Royal Gold Cup, 1370-80, France, pearl, gold, enamel, h.23.6cm. British Museum, 1892,0501.1. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Acquired for £8000 from Samson Wertheimer with funds raised via subscriptions. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 13 and generally keeping the department in good order’, paying him out of his own pocket for six years before he was formally employed by the Museum in 1880. Read’s qualifications were described by Franks to the trustees: Mr. Read possesses a peculiar knowledge of form (shared by very few persons in England) is an excellent draughtsman, has described and sketched more than 400 specimens for the registration catalogue of the Christy collection, and has assisted in the preparation of a catalogue of Japanese pottery in the South Kensington Museum. He has sketched and described the British Museum collection of finger rings, has registered the whole of the Henderson collection, and has a great knowledge of porcelain and pottery.’49 With its emphasis on form and draughtsmanship, the description suggests that deep powers of observation, coupled with knowledge gleaned from study, were seen as the essential qualities for the museum curator. This again marked a new departure from earlier conceptions of curatorship. Prior to Franks’s appointment, museum officers were not required to have a background in history or archaeology, as Hawkins described: The principle upon which we have gone in the Department of Antiquities, has been to get young men who are well educated, and of good character and attainments, and to educate them for the specific purposes of the department after they come here, but we have not thought it necessary to look out for persons who are already antiquaries; and if we had been so disposed, until very lately the study of archaeology has been so little attended to in the country that we could not have found them.50 The role was seen as more of an apprenticeship, where men could be, according to Hawkins, ‘brought up to the business’ rather than arriving with special knowledge or skills, similar to any other administrative civil service position. Franks, in contrast, sought to assert the specialised, skilled nature of curatorial duties, stressing that ‘the officers and assistants in the Museum are not ordinary Government clerks, doing routine work which ceases then they leave the office. They are gentlemen who have devoted themselves to literary and scientific research, which they are carrying out at very moderate salaries’ and saw fit to remind the Trustees that these gentlemen have become recognised authorities on the special sections with which they are connected; so much so that, as may be remembered, the Department of Science and Art some years since wished the officers of this Museum to become referees for their purchases. In the Departments of Antiquities and 49 Officers’ Report, 24 July 1880, BM BEP Archives. 50 Commission Report, Para. 3238. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 14 Coins, with which Mr. Franks is best acquainted, these varied attainments can only be acquired by private study in non-official hours, as the constant interruption which takes place in these department during the official day prevents any continuous study.51 He also emphasised the necessity of participation and collaboration with the learned societies in order to further this expertise. Franks himself was the president of the Society of Antiquaries between 1892 and 1897, and a highly active contributor to meetings and subsequent publications in the Society’s journal.52 As he informed the trustees: Many of the officers are members of Committees of various learned societies dealing with subjects connected with their work in the Museum…it is desirable that the officials should take part in them, so that they may know what is going on among those who are occupied in similar subjects.53 Franks showed new acquisitions at Society meetings prior to their display at the Museum, and organised private viewings at the Museum for fellows, forging a close overlap between the two organisations, enabling new approaches to material culture to be developed and reinforced. Indeed, the fact that Franks was so much more strikingly active in the Antiquaries than the Burlington Fine Arts Club, despite being a founding member, underlines his view of collecting as an activity related to scholarship and expertise, as opposed to a social endeavour.54 Perhaps this factor marks him out again as drawing a distinct line between museum curators and amateur collectors and dilettanti.55 Despite his focus on research, Franks chose not to focus his attention on publication. Although he contributed to the journals and proceedings of the learned societies, the responsibility of accessioning, labelling and arranging the steady stream of new acquisitions took precedence over spending time producing comprehensive catalogues of the Museum’s collections. Franks repeatedly spoke of his hopes to publish a catalogue of the enamels in the collection, informing the trustees in October 1890 that: 51 BM Trustees’ Reports, 8 November 1887 52 Clearly he was a was popular figurehead; an undated letter from C. Knight Wales discussing the Society exclaims ‘Oh! That you were Director again!! What a difference!’ BM Departmental Correspondence files, BEP Archive. 53 BM Trustees’ Reports, 9 November 1887 54 For more on the BFAC see Stacey Pierson, Private collecting, exhibitions and the shaping of art history in London: the Burlington Fine Arts Club, New York, Routledge, 2017. 55 Franks also used the Society to further collecting opportunities. Discussing the acquisition of the Royal Gold Cup in a letter to Fortnum Franks writes ‘I exhibited the cup at the Soc: Antiqs. and read a paper theron which was well received, only they did not fork out.’ F/2/iii/6, Fortnum Archive. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 15 he has for some years taken much interest in the art of enamelling on metal, upon which he has written on three occasions, viz. In the “Archaeological Journal, vol. viii, in the “Art Treasures of the United Kingdom”, Manchester 1857, and in the “Catalogue of the Loan Exhibition at S. Kensington in 1862. He has thus collected a good many materials on the subject, and it has occurred to him that a useful book might be published by the Trustees, giving a description of all the enamels on metal in the Museum, without respect to Departments, and with proper introductory matter. As a preparation for this Mr. Franks has commenced a catalogue of enamels, of which about 500 numbers have been described. About 100 more would probably complete the catalogue. If the Trustees should approve of such a publication, Mr. Franks would set to work with the introductory matter.56 Five years later, however, the introductory essays for the volume were yet to be prepared ‘as it had had so frequently to be put aside for more pressing work’, and Franks postponed the task for his retirement.57 Such publications were not designed with aim of making collections more accessible to the general public, but rather to contribute to scholarship and assist collecting. ‘It has to be done with care and precision,’ he stressed to the trustees, ‘as upon the description depends the future identification of the objects in the department.’58 56 BM BEP Officers’ Reports, 7 October 1890. While Franks advocates a cross-departmental approach to the publication, he goes on to note that ‘except a few bookbindings, all the important specimens of enamels are in Mr. Franks’s department.’ 57 BM BEP Officers’ Reports, 25 October 1895. 58 Franks also contributed to the publication and catalogues of private collectors, as another means of strengthening relationships with potential benefactors, such as his assistance in the Figure 8 Charles William Sherborn, Sir Augustus Wollaston Franks, line engraving, 1898, 13.6cm x 8.5cm, National Portrait Gallery D21211. © National Portrait Gallery, London. An engraving for bookplates used to mark Franks’s donations to the Society of Antiquaries. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 16 Instead, it was through his contribution to exhibition catalogues that his new appreciation of Renaissance material was be disseminated, not only to fellow museum colleagues and connoisseurs, but also to the wider public through reprinting in newspapers and popular periodicals.59 Franks contributed in this way to the catalogues of the Society of Arts exhibition of 1850, the Art Treasures of the United Kingdom exhibition in Manchester in 1857, and the Special Exhibition at South Kensington in 1862, with later exhibitions using Franks’s text and discussion of style and oeuvre as a blueprint. These texts served to generate a new focus on researching and proving attribution and provenance, as the Saturday Review’s comments on his essay on Limoges enamels in 1862 shows: We may safely recommend all possessors of objects of Limoges ware to compare their specimens with the lucid descriptions given by Mr. Franks in this catalogue. There is little doubt that they will thus be able to identify their treasures with the handiwork of one or other of the craftsmen whose peculiarities of style and treatment are here so admirably portrayed.60 The recommendation suggests that Franks’s catalogue essays operated as a means by which his brand of connoisseurial curatorship could be transmitted to a wider collecting audience. This shift towards a more systematic approach to museum work under Franks is also discernible in his approach to the displays, which he required to be ‘intelligently arranged’ to draw out relationships between objects and demonstrate evolution of style and technique.61 His description of the new ceramics room illustrates this new approach: In the new glass and majolica room the cases on one side have been papered and painted the fittings completed and painted, and the specimens cleaned and arranged. This includes the English, Dutch, and German delft, German stoneware, Italian majolica and other pottery, and the Spanish Rhodiean, Damascus and Persian wares. On the other side of the room two sections only have been completed, viz., the French pottery and the Wedgwood ware.62 It is worth stressing the extent to which Franks differed from his predecessors in his approach. In 1849 the archaeologist Sir Charles Fellows had stated that ‘There is no scientific arrangement’ in the collection displays, and ‘a want of classification either preparation of the collection of playing card belonging to Lady Charlotte Schreiber, which Franks undertook despite the fact that ‘he has not derived any pecuniary benefit from the work, which he was glad to take in hand for so old a fined as Lady Charlotte, especially in view of her intentions towards the Museum.' 24 April 1895. 59 Franks, ‘The Apology of My Life’, 319. 60 The Saturday Review, 13 December 1862. 61 BM Officers’ Reports, 25 October 1895 62 BM Officers’ Reports, 7 October 1887 Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 17 chronologically or geographically.’63 Austin Henry Layard, the archaeologist and politician, provided a scathing description of the displays to parliament in 1856, as reported in The Times: Everything was higgledy-piggledy…there was no series…They took the specimens of a good age, and then that of a bad one. Centuries were mingled. This the learned could understand and appreciate, but the populace could not. If they saw a good and a bad object in juxtaposition, they conceived them to be both alike. He hoped that some change would take place in the arrangement of the Museum….He regards the present subject and an important part connected with the question of national education.64 Thus while there had been recognition both from the archaeological community and the education movement that the British Museum’s approach to display required modernisation, Franks, as a point of intersection between the museological, scientific and archaeological communities, was the first to effect this change and assert the importance of taxonomic displays. He also advocated more space and light in the galleries to enhance close observation, rectifying the accommodation described in 1849 as ‘inconveniently situated and badly lighted’ by lobbying for more space and buying display cases himself, bringing them to the Museum on loan.65 Security and the environmental conditions of display space similarly emerge as a concern in Franks’s statements to the Board of Trustees. Medieval and Renaissance objects such as the glass, ceramic and textile collections were deemed to be particularly at risk from fire and theft, being small, fragile and increasingly sought after on the art market, and thus required additional wardens.66 One report laments that The wall cases in the Medieval Rooms and the Asiatic saloon are the oldest in the Museum, and are not only unfit for the collections in the department, but are of bad construction, very wasteful of space, and in 63 Commission Report, Paras. 1690; 1714. 64 The Times, 22 April 1856, 6. 65 Hawkins, Commission Report, para. 8047. Franks campaigned for more display space of medieval and Renaissance objects when the new quarters were being designed in 1884, writing that ‘he always understood [room 3] had been destined for his department for the exhibition of the collection of glass and majolica.’ A Board Minute dated 24 July 1869 reveals Franks lending ‘two glazed oak cabinets’ in order to increase the exhibition space for objects in his care. 66 For example, his concern that ‘the objects in the Christian Rooms at one end of the Gallery are of considerable interest and antiquarian value’ and require no less than two wardens. Such concerns were, of course, related to potential loans and bequests. In June 1873 Franks expressed his sorrow at the fire that destroyed the Alexander Palace in a letter to Henry Cole, writing ‘What a lamentable thing is the destruction of the Alexandra Palace! I fear it will deter many people from lending things.’11 June 1873, Henry Cole Correspondence, NAL. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 18 many parts they freely admit air and dust. The result is that the collections in these two rooms are always dirty, and it is necessary to clean the objects and the fittings of the cases much more often than is possible with the limited staff of the department. It is obvious that such ill-made exhibition cases lead to the deterioration of the specimens...the cases in the department of this defective construction should be gradually replaced by new ones of approved pattern, similar, for instance, to those in the Ceramic gallery.67 The interdisciplinary nature of Franks’s intellectual milieu must have heightened his awareness of the science that underlay concerns over environmental conditions and conservation. As a member of the Royal Society, Franks’s personal and social networks included scientists as well as art curators and dealers. Francesca Orlebar, a friend of the Magniac family, underlines Franks’s place within the scientific community in her diary, describing a dinner hosted by George Bentham, as ‘a highly scientific party, consisting of Sir Charles Lyell, Professor Thomson, Augustus Franks &c &c.’68 Perhaps the influence of his godfather and namesake, the eminent scientist William Hyde Wollaston, also encouraged his scientific mind. Franks’s comment ‘I am sick of “Augustus” & prefer my illustrious god father, Dr. Wollaston’s name’ in a letter to Layard demonstrates his own assertion of this connection.69 Marrying the worlds of archaeology, history, science and art in this way, Franks operates as a node of intellectual overlap that no doubt encouraged both his concern with conservation and his scientific, taxonomic approach to the acquisition and arrangement of Renaissance objects. His pursuit of these strategies thus marked a new era in curatorship at the British Museum, distinct from the approaches of colleagues such as Hawkins and Panizzi as well as attitudes amongst the trustees. The extent to which this was particular to Franks or part of wider intellectual and cultural trends can be established by considering Franks in relation to the wider community of museum professionals. How did Franks differ in his approach, and what impact did he have on his peers? The South Kensington Museum is clearly the institution whose collections overlapped most significantly with those under Franks’s care. The two institutions were expanding their collections of medieval and Renaissance art objects at the same time, and frequently bought objects at the same sales or were bequeathed 67 BM Officers’ Report, 29 September 1893. Franks’s concern with conservation can be gleaned in his requirements for a new assistant to the department in 1888: ‘A classics scholar with experience on excavations in Egypt, who was able to translate French and German and decode Arabic inscriptions, as well as the physical quality of being tall; this being especially important in the new ceramics gallery, where it is absolutely necessary that the top locks should be secured to exclude the dust.’ BM Officers’ Reports, 28 February 1888 68 Volume III Detailed Diary of Frederica Orlebar, 26 October 1863, OR2244/7a, Bedfordshire County Archives. George Bentham (1800-1884) was a British Botanist, elected fellow of the Royal Society in 1862; the Sir Charles Lyell (1797-1875) was a geologist elected in 1826; Professor Thomson may refer to the physicist William Thomson, (1824-1907), elected in1851. 69 Letter from Franks to Layard, 28 May 1894, Layard papers, British Library, Add MS 58168. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 19 elements from the same collections. Franks helped to shape the collections at South Kensington as an advisor to the Museum, leading Philip Cunliffe Owen, director 1874-93, to remark upon Franks’s ‘desire for the National Good’ in 1881, and demonstrated by the offer of the directorship of the Museum to Franks on two occasions.70 He certainly seems to have been considered an authority. Following the Fountaine Sale in 1884, it was reported that ‘The Department of Science and Art decided to purchase all the objects which Mr. Franks had suggested to them as appropriate to their Museum’, and, moreover, that ‘Mr. Franks suggested that four lots would be useful to the Edinburgh Museum, amounting to £1249.10, and this further expenditure has been sanctioned by the Department of Science and Art’, signifying Franks’s legacy for branch museums as well as those in the metropolis.71 Although Franks sometimes declined formal requests to advise the Museum, perhaps due to his burdensome workload, the diaries and correspondence of Henry Cole reveal that he sought Franks’s advice, opinion and company on an informal basis on regular occasions.72 Their acquaintance is documented as early as 1854, when Franks was still a relatively junior addition to the British Museum staff.73 As well as for one-off purchases or prospective trips, Cole sought Franks’s advice for major acquisitions. The Meyrick Collection, discussed above, is one such example. In May 1868 Cole records in his diary that ‘Franks came to dinner & he thought the purchase of the Meyrick Collection worth entertaining.’74 Franks and Cole subsequently visited the Meyrick Collections at Goodrich Court together, with Franks then staying on with Colonel Meyrick after Cole’s departure to negotiate the purchase.75 The two also worked closely together as fellow committee members at the International Exhibition in Paris in 1867, at which Franks advised Cole on 70 Board Memo 28 June 1881, Castellani Nominal File, V&A Archive; Franks, Apology of my life, 321 71 BM Officers’ Report, 9 November 1884. Indeed, Franks’s correspondence records demonstrate close relationships with regional collections, while his support of the branch museum at Bethnal Green extended to providing advice on acquisitions to the lending of his own collection of ceramics to the Museum in 1895. Franks Nominal File, V&A Archives, 25 July 1895 72 For example, Franks declined the Department of Science and Art’s request that he join the committee advising on the acquisition of the Pitt Rivers collection, BM Officers’ Reports, 12 June 1880. 73 At Cole’s request, Franks valued objects he had purchased in Rome, and his diaries reveal frequent meetings at the British Museum to discuss objects or selections for forthcoming exhibitions. A typical visit recorded on 19 December 1871 described a visit to the British Museum with his son Alan in which they ‘Looked at Slade Glass and Castellani jewellery with Franks.’ Henry Cole Diaries, NAL. 74 27 May 1868. Henry Cole Diaries, National Art Library. Cole’s annotation that ‘He cd not go to Moscow this year, but wished to do so some time’, suggests he was asked to undertake another purchasing or advisory trip abroad for the Department the same evening. 75 Cole’s diary entry for 3 June 1868 records examining Colonel Meyrick’s ‘Ivories &c’ in Park Street with Franks; the following day they travel to Goodrich Court to view the armour. Cole returns home two days later, while Franks remained. It is the report that Franks submits to the Treasury the following month that provides the case for acquiring objects from the collection, although the Treasury declined to fund the purchase. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 20 objects to be purchased at the exhibition and spent evenings together visiting dealers, writing reports and drawing up lists of acquisitions.76 Franks even accompanied Cole on family trips to the exhibition, suggesting a close personal association.77 In contrast to Franks’s targeted approach to collecting, curators at South Kensington seem to have been less concerned with a strict adherence to collecting policy. Franks seemed bewildered by Cole’s suggestion of buying a group of paintings in 1867, which Cole had identified either for the British Museum or a new branch of the South Kensington Museum to be established at Alexandra Park, writing ‘I have neither money nor inclination to buy them for the museum & from what you told me of the scope of the Collections to be established at the Alexandra Park I do not see that they would be of any use there.’78 He himself seemed to feel that the South Kensington Museum was lacking in the curatorial expertise that enabled astute acquisitions to be made. Following Arthur Banks Skinner’s appointment as director of the Art Museum, Franks informed Fortnum that ‘Skinner was one of the assistants in the Art Museum SKM and a protégé of Armstrong and Donnelly. He knows a trifle more than most of the others, which is not saying much.’79 The concern for privileging the historical significance and provenance of objects shown in his exhibition catalogue essays and entries is also borne out in his scepticism about the usefulness of reproductions, a further contrast with his colleagues in South Kensington, and indeed, to contemporary collectors acquiring composite or Renaissance-style objects. As he expressed to the trustees, he ‘doubts whether any advantage would be derived from the display of reproductions’ a practice he felt not only inadequate but also dangerous in fuelling the market for fakes and forgeries: it must be remembered that complaints have often been made by private collectors, of the facilities given by public institutions for making copies, which have, on more than one occasion, been palmed off as originals, and instances have occurred where an electrotype copy has been returned to the owner in the place of the original.80 His reaction to Henry Cole’s suggestion of acquiring reproductions of the regalia in the Rosenborg Castle in Copenhagen underlines this point, remarking that ‘these 76 See for example entries 23-24 August. ‘Discussed Classified Inventory with Franks. He recommended no tight line, but generally to take material or Process as the Class.’ 77 4 November 1867, Cole Diaries, NAL. 78 Letter from Franks to Cole, 3 November 1867, Cole Correspondence, NAL 79 Letter to Fortnum, 15 February 1892, F2/iii/iv. 80 BM BEP Trustees’ Reports, 12th February 1886. Indeed, the comment calls to mind the history of the Holy Thorn Reliquary, of which a copy was made when the original had been sent for repair; the copy being returned to the Ecclesiastical Treasury of the Hapsburgs in Vienna, and the original released to the market to be acquired by Anselm Rothschild and subsequently by the British Museum as part of the Waddesdon Bequest in 1898. Dora Thornton, A Rothschild Renaissance: Treasures from the Waddesdon Bequest, London, British Museum Press, 2015, 82–87. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 21 are of very delicate goldsmiths’ work with a good deal of enamelling. I doubt whether it would be possible to make casts of these, nor would the result be satisfactory, as the enamelling would make the metalwork look course.’81 Such an approach, together with his expertise in identifying fake and forgeries, his dismissal of composite pieces and his new focus on researching attributions and provenance can only have increased the aura of the original in the public mind. Franks became the leading authority on the production of counterfeit objects, having given a paper at the Society of Antiquaries in 1858 calling his peers’ attention to the prevalence of fakes and highlighting the presence of forged Limoges enamels on display at the Manchester Art Treasures exhibition.82 The paper was reprinted in regional journals to serve as a warning to archaeologists and collectors.83 In addition to influencing his peers, Franks also relied on the expertise of his colleagues, and it is appropriate for this edition to consider the significance of Franks’s relationship with George Scharf. Correspondence between the two curators testifies to an intimate friendship, corroborated by Scharf’s charming sketches.84 (Fig.9) The relationship seems to have arisen out of a mutual fascination with researching the history and provenance of art objects, of which their shared appreciation of Renaissance Limoges enamels offers a prime example. Franks’s interest, as we have seen, can be traced back to his activities at the Archaeological 81 8 December 1872, Henry Cole Correspondence, NAL. 82 Augustus Wollaston Franks, ‘Frauds and Forgeries of “Antiques”’, Society of Antiquaries Proceedings, 4, November 1856, 246–249. 83 See, for example The Wiltshire Archæological and Natural History Magazine, 6, 1860, 183–186. 84 Trustees’ Sketchbook 30, 1882-4, NPG7/1/3/1/2/26 Figure 9 Sir George Scharf, Sir George Scharf and friends, lithograph, 1873, 28.6cm x 26.7cm, National Portrait Gallery, NPG D6712. © National Portrait Gallery, London. This informal depiction of Franks and Scharf, together with William Beauford (1842-1923) and Richard Worsley (b. 1836) gives an insight into Franks’s intellectual milieu and the close friendships that enhanced his approach to objects and their histories. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 22 Institute in the 1840s, at which point the British Museum held just two examples. Over the course of his career Franks purchased forty-two Renaissance enamels using Museum funds, adding a further eighteen with his own money. As portraits of distinguished royals and nobles of the French Renaissance court were a prime subject matter, it is unsurprising that these objects offered such a rich area of overlap between Franks and Scharf’s spheres of expertise. Scharf’s sketchbooks testify to his personal appreciation of enamels, containing a number of highly detailed sketches and notes on enamels in private collections.85 His notes cross- reference Franks’s essays on the subject, but his letters to Franks demonstrate the extent to which he was furnishing Franks with information about the enamels in private collections. In 1862, Scharf writes to Franks with information relating to the Duke of Hamilton’s enamel collections, informing him that ‘the composition of the Duke of Hamilton’s P.R. enamels dated 1538, centrepiece is taken from Raphael’s fine drawing in the Louvre a smaller and earlier design is in the Oxford Gallery. Engraved in Laudon vol 5 No. 36.’86 Later that year he writes again during an extended visit to Blenheim Palace with information about the Duke and Duchess of Marlborough’s collections: (Fig.10) Your Enamels of Spes87 corresponds exactly in dimensions, composition and execution with the Charitas and others at this place. The Duke and Duchess were both much interested in what I told them of your British Museum example. I will bring you tracings of the four here. The backs of the three plates having numbers in [diamond shape] are very richly and finely painted. Each has a coat of arms in the centre.88 Two bear the left hand coat here sketched & one the other coat below. I hope to make a good many notes of the enamels that are here. I have leisure now and can have them as long out of the case as I like…The plates of the Mouilles with the Zodiacal signs above and a shield below are marked at the back of each P.R. in gold with a fleur de lis in the surrounding compartments. The one bearing the word SEPTENBRE [sic] in lieu of the shield is signed P.R. in front and not in any of the compartments at the back.89 Scharf’s comment that ‘The curious china jars will be rather difficult to trace as they are large and stand in a public passage or anteroom. I shall however do my best’ suggests that he was responding to particular queries from Franks or requests for 85 Scharf Sketchbook 58, 1860 NPG/7/3/4/2/69 86 BM BEP, Letter from Scharf to Franks, 5 July 1862. 87 Plaque, workshop of Jean Pénicaud II, Limoges, 1541, Enamel on copper, 27.7cm x 21.5cm, British Museum, Inv. 1855,1201.27. Acquired at the Bernal Sale in 1855. 88 The sketch depicts the coat of arms of the Mesmes family. Dish, Pierre Reymond, Limoges, 1567-8, Enamel on copper, d.20.4cm, Musée municipal de l’Evêché, inv. 93.500. 89 BM BEP Letter from Scharf to Franks, 3 September 1862. This information was especially valuable considering that Duke of Marlborough did not lend his enamel collections to the loan exhibition at South Kensington earlier that year, which provided an important opportunity to inspect other collections in private hands. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 23 illustrations. Perhaps Scharf’s knowledge of portraiture was especially important in enabling Franks to propagate a new intellectual appreciation for Limoges enamels by linking them directly with illustrious men and women of history. Scharf seems to have played a similar role in Franks’s work on the British Museum’s collections of coins and medals.90 Franks’s sphere of influence extended beyond his colleagues in Britain, and his extensive network of contacts on the continent facilitated the propagation of modern curatorial practice.91 A report of 1890 gives a flavour of these research trips.92 He started in Paris to discuss enamel in the Louvre, recording his ‘considerable doubt as to whether it is really an enamel, an opinion which he found to be shared by M. Darcel (one of his colleagues in Switzerland) who wrote a special work on the enamels in the Louvre.’ He went on to Neuchatel, Berne, Lucerne, Zurich and Basel, inspecting various public and private collections. In Zurich, he studied the maiolica collections of the British consul, Sir Henry Angst, recording his hope ‘to obtain one or two specimens for the museum through Consul Angst.’ After viewing Baron von Lochner’s collection in Lindau, he went on to Munich, where, ‘through friends Franks managed to have the collection of the Reiche Kapelle opened’ before examining original metalwork designs of Hans Mielich of Munich 90 Scharf was also a collaborator for the research of the numismatics collections in Franks’s care, as Franks informed the trustees Scharf ‘has been much consulted respecting the portraits on the medals.’ BM BEP Officers’ Reports, 11 March 1885, 91 See, for example, the letter sent to M. Bourdery, Limoges, 28 May 1890: ‘Liste des Emaux peints de Limoges dans la collection du British Museum’, which consists of an inventory of enamels in Museum collection with descriptions, dimensions, and drawings of insignia, grouped by artist. BM, BEP Letter Book. 92 BM BEP Officers’ Reports, 1 December 1890. Figure 10 Extract of Letter from Scharf to Franks from Blenheim Palace, 3 September 1862, Franks File, BEP Archive, British Museum. © The Trustees of the British Museum. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 24 with the art historian Jakob von Hener-Alteneck. Although study trips had been identified by Hawkins as essential in order to ‘keep pace with the state of knowledge existing on the Continent,’ prior to Franks’s appointment there had been scant opportunities for Museum officers to do so; Franks’s private means and extensive contacts gave him unprecedented access to foreign collections.93 The fluidity with which Franks and Read moved around Europe is indicated in a letter to Fortnum shortly before Franks’s death in 1897: I met at the Louvre (by appointment) Heron de Villegosse who placed in my hands the famous tiara, which seems to me as genuine as it can be. Charlie saw false objects from Olin, & showed me photographs, but they are as different as possible…Charles & Angst went to the Hotel Voltaire where I had been before with him, & who should turn up but Brinckmann of Hamburg. The people at the hotel were curious to know why there was such a congress of Museum directors.94 Letters arriving at the Museum from European, Japanese and American academics, collectors and curators testify to Franks’s place within these international museum networks. A letter from Francis Pulney, of the Budapest Museum, for example, invites Franks to his forthcoming exhibition on goldsmiths’ work, as ‘an opportunity not to be lost for study’ and asks him to extend the invitation to both Fortnum and Scharf, underlining the reputation of the three collector-curators on the international stage.95 Franks’s role on the Committee of the International Congress of Archaeology and Anthropology consolidated his status abroad, proving particularly important in spreading awareness of faked and forged objects amongst his colleagues on the continent. The legacy of Franks’s approach to the acquisition, study and exhibition of objects can be traced through the work of his successor, Charles Hercules Read. In his obituary of Read, Henry Balfour observed that Franks’s ‘stimulating example, enthusiasm and wide knowledge were powerful factors in developing the potentialities and in shaping the destiny of his very capable young assistant.’96 Franks’s lineage can be traced further in the work of Ormonde Dalton, an assistant under Franks from 1889 who inherited the keepership from Read in 1925; the stamp of authority gleaned from his training indicated by the request for him to catalogue the Frank McClean collection of medieval and Renaissance objects for the 93 Hawkins, Report on the Royal Commission, para. 8041. 94 Letter from Franks to Fortnum, 5 February 1897, Fortnum Archive, F2/iii/10 95 Letter from Pulney to Franks, 8 February 1890, BEP Letter Book. Indeed, Franks’s reputation abroad was so strong that later that year he was offered a post by the Swiss government, as a letter from Warren acknowledges. 4 October 1890 ‘Your offer from the Swiss government is a very flattering one and I wish you could see your way towards accepting it.'. 96 Balfour, H., 'Sir Charles Hercules Read, July 6, 1857-February 11, 1929'. Man, 29, pp. 61-62. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 25 Fitzwilliam Museum in 1912.97 In this way, Franks’s approach to curatorship continued to shape public collections in Britain and beyond well into the twentieth century. Combined with the role he played in establishing the Slade professorships at Oxford, Cambridge and London universities, Franks spearheaded a fundamental shift in the way in which material culture was understood.98 * Writing to Fortnum in 1896, the British Museum director Edward Maunde Thompson discussed recent challenges at the Museum, including lack of funds and Trustee vacancies, as well as the fact that ‘We shall soon, also, lose our good old friend Franks. His time is up on 20 March.’99 The following month a Treasury letter awarded him an annual pension of £583.6.8, acknowledging ‘the valuable service rendered by him to learning in general and the British Museum in particular.’ Right up until the final months of his life Franks continued to play an active role in international collecting and curating networks.100 In December 1896 he planned a trip to France, going first to Marseille as ‘I believe there is a museum there & I do not doubt crockery shops where I may find some of the obscure factories of which I am hunting up specimens,’101 and then on to Paris to meet Read, who was travelling on the Continent with his daughter. He sent Fortnum an update from Paris the following month: Read will probably be accompanied by Mr. Angst whom I particularly wish to see. There is a very important negotiation going on, in which I am particularly taken up & which I may have to take a leading part…I have better remain here a few days longer & return to London in time for the Trustee Meeting on the 13th & the Council of the Antiquaries the following week.102 97 Ormonde Maddock Dalton, Fitzwilliam Museum Catalogue of the Mediaeval Ivories, Enamels, Jewellery, Gems and miscellaneous objects bequeathed to the Museum by Frank McClean, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1912. 98 Letter to Franks from Henry Liddell, Christ Church Oxford, 25 February 1869, BM, BEP Correspondence Archive. 99 Letter from E Maunde Thompson to Fortnum, 9 February 1896, F/2/vii/2, Fortnum Archive. A letter later dated 3rd April, however, acknowledges that ‘Franks is still with us – I mean that he is still on the premises and it is as unthinkable for us to regard him as no longer one of us as it is for him to imagine himself a retired officer.’ 100 Franks’s commitment to his curatorial duties was indeed a source of concern to his Museum colleagues. A worried Edmund Maunde Thompson wrote to Fortnum explaining that ‘I have written a sharp letter to Franks and ordered him to go South. There he is in Paris, pottering about after cups & saucers and of course going about in his usual careless fashion – and catching cold and generally disgusting his anxious friends. I dare say he will persist in turning up here at the meeting on Saturday…’ 11 February 1887, F/2/vii/3, Fortnum Archive. 101 25 December 1896; 20 January 1897. Fortnum Archive. 102 20 January 1897, F/2/iii/9, Fortnum Archive. Eloise Donnelly ‘A desire for the National Good’ ... 26 He died in May 1897, leaving his remaining collections to the Museum. Yet even posthumously his impact on the Museum community continued to be felt. His friend and colleague, Charles Fortnum bequeathed the residue of his estate to the Museum in 1899 for the building of a room ‘for the adequate display of the franks collection of rings and gold and silver &c work.’103 The Waddesdon Bequest in 1898 and the Barwell Bequest of 1913 are further examples whereupon the Museum has been enriched by donations secured by Franks during his lifetime.104 Indeed, the Godman Bequest in 1982 is perhaps the ultimate expression of Franks’s long term planning; Franks secured the bequest of the collection during Godman’s lifetime on the understanding that it would pass to the museum on the death of his younger daughter. Having the foresight to consider the Museum’s collections almost a century after his own retirement is surely the mark of a superlative curator. Eloise Donnelly is a PhD candidate in History at the University of Cambridge and the British Museum, funded by an AHRC Collaborative Doctoral Award. Between 2013 and 2015 she was Curatorial Trainee at the National Gallery, London. She holds a B.A. in History and a Master’s in History of Art from the University of Oxford. edonnelly@britishmuseum.org This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution- NonCommercial 4.0 International License 103 BM Trustees’ Minutes, 15 April 1899. 104 Canon A.H.S. Barwell (1834-1913) bequeathed ninety-five Limoges enamels and a number of other medieval and Renaissance objects to the British Museum in 1913. http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc/4.0/ 
work_lmx2uue25vhe7p4mlhhbqlitje	----	Books Received Books Received Parergon, Volume 26, Number 1, 2009, pp. 301-308 (Article) Published by Australian and New Zealand Association of Medieval and Early Modern Studies (Inc.) DOI: For additional information about this article [ This content has been declared free to read by the pubisher during the COVID-19 pandemic. ] https://doi.org/10.1353/pgn.0.0122 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/362910 https://doi.org/10.1353/pgn.0.0122 https://muse.jhu.edu/article/362910 Books Received 301 Parergon 26.1 (2009) Books received Aers, David, Salvation and Sin: Augustine, Langland, and Fourteenth-Century Theology, Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 2009; paperback; pp. 304; R.R.P. US$38.00; ISBN 9780268020330. Arn, Mary Jo, The Poet’s Notebook: The Personal Manuscript of Charles d’Orléans (Paris BnF MS fr. 25458) (Texts & Transitions, 3), Turnhout, Brepols, 2008; hardback; pp. xx, 202; 30 b/w illustrations, 8 b/w tables, CD; R.R.P. €80.00; ISBN 9782503520704. Arnade, Peter and Michael Rocke, eds, Power, Gender, Ritual in Europe and the Americas: Essays in Memory of Richard C. Trexler, Toronto, Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2008; paperback; pp. 364; R.R.P. US$37.00; ISBN 9780772720412. Baggerman, J. A. and R. M. Dekker, Child of the Enlightenment: Revolutionary Europe Reflected in a Boyhood Diary (Egodocuments and History Series, 1), trans. Diane Webb, Leiden, Brill, 2009; hardback; pp. xii, 556; R.R.P €99.00, US$158.00; ISBN 9789004172692. Barthélemy, Dominique, The Serf, the Knight, and the Historian, trans. Graham Robert Edwards, Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 2009; paperback; pp. 368; R.R.P. US$29.95; ISBN 9780801475603. Billing, Christian M., Masculinity, Corporality and the English Stage 1580-1635, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 248; 17 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £55.00; ISBN 9780754656517. Bolens, Guillemette, Le style des gestes: Corporéité et kinésie dans le récit littéraire (Bibliothèque d’Histoire de la Médecine et de la Santé), Alain Berthoz, preface, Lausanne, éditions BHMS, 2008; paperback; pp. 155; 1 colour illustration; R.R.P. €24.50; ISBN 9782970053675. Boyce, J., Carmelite Liturgy and Spiritual Identity: The Choir Books of Kraków (Medieval Church Studies, 16), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. xvi, 524; 18 b/w illustrations, 30 b/w tables, 42 b/w line art; R.R.P. €90.00; ISBN 9782503517148. Breuer, Heidi, Crafting the Witch: Gendering Magic in Medieval and Early Modern England (Studies in Medieval History and Culture), New York, Routledge, 2009; hardback; pp. 202; R.R.P. US$95.00; ISBN 9780415977616. 302 Books Received Parergon 26.1 (2009) Brown, Jennifer N., Three Women of Liège: A Critical Edition of and Commentary on the Middle English Lives of Elizabeth of Spalbeek, Christina Mirabilis, and Marie d’Oignies (Medieval Women: Texts and Contexts, 23), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. viii, 348; R.R.P. €70.00; ISBN 9782503524719. Bruun, Mette B. and Stephanie Glaser, eds, Negotiating Heritage: Memories of the Middle Ages (Ritus et Artes, 4), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. xii, 396; 42 b/w & 5 colour illustrations, 4 b/w tables; R.R.P. €90.00; ISBN 9782503527949. Burguière, André, The Annales School: An Intellectual History, trans. Jane Marie Todd, Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 2009; cloth; pp. 328; R.R.P. US$45.00; ISBN 9780801446658. Burt, Richard, Medieval and Early Modern Film and Media, New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 2008; hardback; pp. xiv, 279; 15 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £45.00; ISBN 9780230601253. Cassidy-Welch, Megan and Peter Sherlock, eds., Practices of Gender in Late Medieval and Early Modern Europe (Late Medieval and Early Modern Studies, 11), Turnhout, Brepols, 2008; hardback; pp. viii, 332; 6 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. €60.00; ISBN 9782503523361. Claydon, Tony, Europe and the making of England 1660-1760 (Cambridge Studies in Early Modern British History), Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 2007; paperback; pp. 392; 3 illustrations; R.R.P. AU$65.00; ISBN 9780521615204. Coldiron, Anne E. B., English Printing, Verse Translation, and the Battle of the Sexes, 1476-1557 (Women and Gender in the Early Modern World), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2009; hardback; pp. xv, 280; 15 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £55.00; ISBN 9780754656081. Cregan, Kate, The Theatre of the Body: Staging Death and Embodying Life in Early-Modern London (Late Medieval and Early Modern Studies, 10); Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. xvi, 349; 35 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. €70.00; ISBN 9782503520582. Daston, Lorraine and Michael Stolleis, eds, Natural Law and Laws of Nature in Early Modern Europe: Jurisprudence, Theology, Moral and Natural Philosophy, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 350; 3 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £60.00; ISBN 9780754657613. Davidson, Audrey Ekdahl, ed., Aspects of Early Music Performance (AMS Studies in Music, 1), New York, AMS Press, 2008; cloth; pp. xl, 218; R.R.P. US$92.50; ISBN 9780404646011. Books Received 303 Parergon 26.1 (2009) Dickenson, John, Greene in Conceit: New Raised from His Grave to Write the Tragic History of Fair Valeria of London (1598) (Barnabe Rich Society Publications, 19), Donald Beecher and David Margolies, eds, Toronto, Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2008; paperback; pp. 151; R.R.P US$19.00; ISBN 9780772720436. Dionne, Craig and Parmita Kapadia, eds, Native Shakespeares: Indigenous Appropriations on a Global Stage, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 258; 8 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £55.00; ISBN 9780754662969. Echard, Siân, Printing the Middle Ages (Material Texts), Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008; cloth; pp. 344; 83 illustrations; R.R.P. US$65.00, £42.50; ISBN 9780812240917. Eisenbichler, Konrad, ed., Renaissance Medievalisms (Essays and Studies, 18), Toronto, Centre for Reformation and Renaissance Studies, 2009; paperback; pp. 360; R.R.P. US$37.00; ISBN 9780772720450. Ferguson, Gary, Queer (Re)Readings in the French Renaissance: Homosexuality, Gender, Culture, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 386; 13 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £60.00; ISBN 9780754663775. Feros Ruys, Juanita, ed., What Nature Does Not Teach: Didactic Literature in the Medieval and Early-Modern Periods (Disputatio, 15), Turnhout, Brepols, 2008; hardback; pp. xiv, 530; 3 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. €90.00; ISBN 9782503525969. Flanagan, Sabina, Doubt in an Age of Faith: Uncertainty in the Long Twelfth Century (Disputatio, 17), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. xiv, 216; R.R.P. €60.00; ISBN 9782503527482. Forman, Valerie, Tragicomic Redemptions: Global Economics and the Early Modern English Stage, Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008; cloth; pp. 296; R.R.P. US$59.95, £39.00; ISBN 9780812240962. Fotheringham, Richard, Christa Jansohn, and R. S. White, eds, Shakespeare’s World/World Shakespeares: The Selected Proceedings of the International Shakespeare Association World Congress, Brisbane, 2006, Newark, University of Delware Press, 2008; hardback; pp. 436; R.R.P. US$69.50; ISBN 9780874139891. Gertsman, Elina, ed., Visualizing Medieval Performance: Perspectives, Histories, Contexts, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 366; 41 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £65.00; ISBN 9780754664369. 304 Books Received Parergon 26.1 (2009) Goodall, Peter, ed., Chaucer’s Monk’s Tale and Nun’s Priest’s Tale: An Annotated Bibliography (Chaucer Bibliographies), Toronto, University of Toronto Press, 2009; cloth; pp xlviii, 338; R.R.P. US$110.00, £72.00; ISBN 9870802093202. Groves, Peter and Geoffrey Hiller, English Character-Books of the Renaissance: An Anthology, Asheville, NC, Pegasus Press, 2008; paperback; pp. iv, 240; R.R.P. unknown; ISBN 1889818399. Hanawalt, Barbara A. and Anna Grotans, eds, Living Dangerously: On the Margins in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 2007; paperback; pp. 184; R.R.P. US$27.00; ISBN 9780268030827. Hanson, Craig Ashley, The English Virtuoso: Art, Medicine, and Antiquarianism in the Age of Empiricism, Chicago, University of Chicago Press, 2009; cloth; pp. 344; 12 colour plates, 62 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. US$50.00; ISBN 9780226315874. Harvey, Tamara, Figuring Modesty in Feminist Discourse Across the Americas, 1633-1700 (Women and Gender in the Early Modern World), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 174; 1 b/w illustration; R.R.P. £50.00; ISBN 9780754664529. Heaney, Seamus, trans., Beowulf, John D. Niles, ed., New York, Norton Press, 2007; paperback; pp. 224; R.R.P. US$24.95; ISBN 9780393330106. Hewlett, Cecilia, Rural Communities in Renaissance Tuscany: Religious Identities and Local Loyalties (Europa Sacra, 1), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. xiv, 234; 13 b/w illustrations & 6 b/w tables; R.R.P. €60.00; ISBN 9782503523378. Hingst, Amanda Jane, The Written World: Past and Place in the Work of Orderic Vitalis, Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 2009; paperback; pp. 296; R.R.P. US$40.00; ISBN 9780268030865. Hobbins, Daniel, Authorship and Publicity Before Print: Jean Gerson and the Transformation of Late Medieval Learning (Middle Ages), Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009; cloth; pp. 352; 23 illustrations; R.R.P. US$49.95, £32.50; ISBN 9780812241556. Hobby, Elaine, ed., The Birth of Mankind. Otherwise Named, The Woman’s Book (Literary and Scientific Cultures of Early Modernity), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2009; hardback; pp. xxxix, 310; 7 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £60.00; ISBN 9780754638186. Books Received 305 Parergon 26.1 (2009) Johnston, Andrew James, Performing the Middle Ages from ‘Beowulf ’ to ‘Othello’ (Late Medieval and Early Modern Studies, 15), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. viii, 344; R.R.P. €70.00; ISBN 9782503527550. Kassler, Jamie C., The Honourable Roger North, 1651-1734: On Life, Morality, Law and Tradition, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2009; hardback; pp. 484; 8 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £60.00; ISBN 9780754658863. Knight, Leah, Of Books and Botany in Early Modern England: Sixteenth-Century Plants and Print Culture (Literary and Scientific Cultures of Early Modernity), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2009; hardback; pp. 182; 12 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £50.00; ISBN 9780754665861. Kocher, Suzanne, Allegories of Love in Marguerite Porete’s Mirror of Simple Souls (Medieval Women: Texts and Contexts, 17), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. x, 218; R.R.P. €60.00; ISBN 9782503519029. Laguardia, David P., Intertextual Masculinity in French Renaissance Literature: Rabelais, Brantôme, and the Cent nouvelles nouvelles (Women and Gender in the Early Modern World), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 262; R.R.P. £55.00; ISBN 9780754662167. Lansing, Carol, Passion and Order: Restraint of Grief in the Medieval Italian Communes (Conjunctions of Religion and Power in the Medieval Past), Ithaca, Cornell University Press, 2008; hardback; pp. 264; 21 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. US$45.00; ISBN 9780801440625. Lipton, Emma, Affections of the Mind: The Politics of Sacramental Marriage in Late Medieval English Literature, Notre Dame, University of Notre Dame Press, 2007; paperback; pp. 256; R.R.P. US$32.00; ISBN 9780268034054. Lynch, Andrew and Anne Scott, eds, Renaissance Poetry and Drama in Context: Essays for Christopher Wortham, Newcastle upon Tyne, Cambridge Scholars, 2008; hardback; pp. xii, 353; 18 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £39.99, US$59.99; ISBN 9781847186102. Mackley, J. S., The Legend of St Brendan: A Comparative Study of the Latin and Anglo-Norman Versions (The Northern World, 39), Leiden, Brill, 2008; hardback; pp. xiv, 354; R.R.P. €99.00, US$147.00; ISBN 9789004166622. Maddox, D. and S. Sturm-Maddox, eds, Parisian Confraternity Drama of the Fourteenth Century: The ‘Miracles de Nostre Dame par personnages’ (Medieval Texts and Cultures of Northern Europe, 22), Turnhout, Brepols, 2008; hardback; pp. x, 258; 14 b/w illustrations, 3 b/w tables, 8 b/w line drawings; R.R.P. €60.00; ISBN 9782503528526. 306 Books Received Parergon 26.1 (2009) Mazzola, Elizabeth, Women’s Wealth and Women’s Writing in Early Modern England: ‘Little Legacies’ and the Materials of Motherhood (Women and Gender in the Early Modern World), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2009; hardback; pp. 138; 14 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £50.00; ISBN 9780754666639. Munroe, Jennifer, Gender and the Garden in Early Modern English Literature (Women and Gender in the Early Modern World), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 146; 8 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £50.00; ISBN 9780754658269. Nederman, Cary, Lineages of European Political Thought: Explorations along the Medieval/Modern Divide from John of Salisbury to Hegel, Washington, Catholic University of America Press, 2009; paperback; pp. xxiv, 375; R.R.P. US$39.95; ISBN 9780813215815. Nevile, Jennifer, Dance, Spectacle and the Body Politick, Bloomington, Indiana University Press, 2008; paperback; pp. 392; 33 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. US$24.95; ISBN 9780253219855. Newstok, Scott L., Quoting Death in Early Modern England: The Poetics of Epitaphs Beyond the Tomb (Early Modern Literature in History), Houndmills, Palgrave Macmillan, 2008; hardback; pp. 244; R.R.P. £50.00; ISBN 9780230203259. Platt, Peter G., Shakespeare and the Culture of Paradox (Studies in Performance and Early Modern Drama), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2009; hardback; pp. 262; R.R.P. £55.00; ISBN 9780754665519. Radulescu, Raluca L. and Edward Donald Kennedy, eds, Broken Lines: Genealogical Literature in Medieval Britain and France (Medieval Texts and Cultures of Northern Europe, 16), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. xiv, 298; R.R.P. €60.00; ISBN 9782503524856. Rosewell, Roger, Medieval Wall Painting in English and Welsh Churches, Woodbridge and Rochester, Boydell, 2008; hardback; pp. 380; 6 b/w & 255 colour illustrations; R.R.P. US$80.00, £39.95; ISBN 9781843833680. Roux, Simone, Paris in the Middle Ages (Middle Ages), trans. Jo Ann McNamara, Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2009; cloth; pp. 272; R.R.P. US$29.95, £19.50; ISBN 9780812241594. Sabaté, Flocel, ed., Imago Temporis. Médium Aevum 2, Lleida, Edicions de la Universitat de Lleida, 2009; paperback; pp. 476; R.R.P. €50.00; ISSN 1888-3931. Scase, Wendy, Literature and Complaint in England 1272-1553, Oxford, Oxford University Press, 2007; hardback; pp. xii, 215; R.R.P. AU$190.00; ISBN 9780199270859. Books Received 307 Parergon 26.1 (2009) Spinks, Jennifer, Monstrous Births and Visual Culture in Sixteenth-Century Germany (Religious Cultures in the Early Modern World), London, Pickering & Chatto, 2009; hardback; pp. 224; R.R.P. £60.00, US$99.00; ISBN 9781851966301. Svensson, Eva, The Medieval Household: Daily Life in Castles and Farmsteads Scandinavian Examples in their European Context (The Medieval Countryside, 2), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. xvi, 382; 73 b/w & 17 colour illustrations, 33 b/w line drawings; R.R.P. €55.00; ISBN 9782503525907. Toivo, Raisa Maria, Witchcraft and Gender in Early Modern Society: Finland and the Wider European Experience (Women and Gender in the Early Modern World), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 242; 4 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £55.00; ISBN 9780754664543. van Dijkhuizen, J. F. and R. Todd, eds, The Reformation Unsettled: British Literature and the Question of Religious Identity, 1560-1660 (Proteus, 3), Turnhout, Brepols, 2009; hardback; pp. x, 246; 4 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. €60.00; ISBN 9782503526249. van Dijkhuizen, Jan Frans and Karl A. E. Enenkel, eds, The Sense of Suffering: Constructions of Physical Pain in Early Modern Culture (Intersections, 12), Leiden, Brill, 2008; hardback; pp. xxiv, 504; 16 illustrations; R.R.P. €99.00, US$148.00; ISBN 9789004172470. Van Engen, John, Sisters and Brothers of the Common Life: The Devotio Moderna and the World of the Later Middle Ages (Middle Ages), Philadelphia, University of Pennsylvania Press, 2008; cloth; pp. 416; 19 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. US$59.95, £39.00; ISBN 9780812241198 Walker, Jonathan, ed., Early Modern Academic Drama (Studies in Performance and Early Modern Drama), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2009; hardback; pp. 222; R.R.P. £55.00; ISBN 9780754664642. Walls, Kathryn, ed., William Baspoole The Pilgrime, Tempe, AZ, Arizona Center for Medieval and Renaissance Studies, 2008; hardback; pp. xxiv, 558; R.R.P. US$70.00, £43.00; ISBN 9780866983853. Ward, Haruko Nawata, Women Religious Leaders in Japan’s Christian Century, 1549-1650 (Women and Gender in the Early Modern World), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2009; hardback; pp. 422; 12 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £65.00; ISBN 9780754664789. 308 Books Received Parergon 26.1 (2009) Waters, Claire M., ed., Virgins and Scholars: A Fifteen-Century Compilation of the Lives of John the Baptist, John the Evangelist, Jerome, and Katherine of Alexandria (Medieval Women: Texts and Contexts, 10), Turnhout, Brepols, 2008; hardback; pp. xii, 494; 2 colour illustrations; R.R.P €90.00; ISBN 9782503514529. Whetter, K. S., Understanding Genre and Medieval Romance, Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 218; 12 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £55.00; ISBN 9780754661429. Wilkin, Rebecca M., Women, Imagination and the Search for Truth in Early Modern France (Women and Gender in the Early Modern World), Aldershot, Ashgate, 2008; hardback; pp. 264; 11 b/w illustrations; R.R.P. £55.00; ISBN 9780754661382. HistoryItem_V1 DefineBleed Range: all pages Request: bleed all round 26.36 points Bleed area is outside visible: no 38.5512 1 26.3622 26.3622 0 0 26.3622 Fixed Both AllDoc CurrentAVDoc 26.3622 QITE_QuiteImposingPlus2 Quite Imposing Plus 2 2.0 Quite Imposing Plus 2 1 0 318 317 318 1 HistoryList_V1 qi2base 
work_lpcgo4mfujdgljpngpmvgyp3qe	----	51 HILARIOUS COMMENTARY: EZRA POUND’S CANTO XCVIII Peter Nicholls I: COMMENTARY Thrones De Los Cantares, the last full sequence of Pound’s Cantos, has always been the least popular part of the long poem. Ronald Bush speaks for many when he concludes that its “substance is so abbreviated as to be unreadable” and that “the truncated and gnomic style of Thrones is inappropriate to the point of absurdity.”1 Whether or not we accept this damaging judgment, it’s clear that the form of the poem underwent significant changes after the widely admired wartime sequence written at Pisa. There the contour of Pound’s recollection was often sustained by the most fragile of syntactical ligatures—conjunctions (“and,” “but,” “so”), supported by under-motivated connecting phrases (“leading to,” “which means that,” “so that”)—hinges barely able to support the weight of the poet’s diverse memories but in their very weakness enacting his plight as one compelled now to remember.2 In Section: Rock-Drill De Los Cantares (1955) and Thrones de los Cantares (1959) the writing becomes, by contrast, increasingly paratactic, staccato even: “‘Brederode’ / (to Rush, Ap. 4. 1790) / . . .treaties of commerce only” My thanks to Richard Sieburth and Peter Middleton for their comments on an earlier draft of this essay. 1 Bush, “Late Cantos LXXII-CXVII,” in Ira B. Nadel, ed., The Cambridge Companion to Ezra Pound (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999), 123. That the title of this sequence, like that of Section: Rock-Drill De Los Cantares, uses Spanish (hardly one of the principal languages of the poem) has drawn little comment. Is Pound perhaps alluding to the Song of Songs, Cantar de los Cantares? 2 For an extended example, see Canto LXXIV/447. All references are to The Cantos of Ezra Pound (New York: New Directions, 1996) and will be given in this form in the text. GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 52 (XCIV/653; ellipses in original). The reference to “Brederode,” for example, provokes lengthy annotation in Carroll F. Terrell’s Companion to The Cantos (Hendrik, Count of Brederode played a significant role in the sixteenth-century Dutch Revolution, though he is now largely forgotten) and Pound’s cavalier notation seems simply to assume that such contextual support will be delivered as necessary.3 The writing itself often looks like preliminary note- taking, and this apparent disregard for all but the most devoted reader has undoubtedly cost it a larger audience. This rather unexpected development in the poem can be explained in part by the tension in Pound’s late writing between the pull of reference, on the one hand, and of allusion, on the other.4 The former pole is governed by the poet’s increasing sense of pedagogic urgency which does make him something of the “village explainer” that Gertrude Stein said he was, a distributor of axioms and verities, a purveyor of the natural and the self-evident. The reader, accordingly, is enjoined to “study with the mind of a grandson” (LXXXV/570), to become a passive recipient of what has become an apparently “parental’ tradition.”5 The counter- movement of allusive composition had reached its apogee in The Pisan Cantos where Pound, deprived of his usual print sources, became newly dependent on memory and direct perception. Here the poem moved “as the winds veer” (LXXIV/463), the mind drawing strength from an “ancestral” tradition so that the affective properties of things learned by heart and remembered create imaginative spaces in which associations and echoes expand almost infinitely. Such spaces would continue to exist in the late Cantos, 3 Carroll F. Terrell, A Companion to The Cantos of Ezra Pound (Berkeley, Los Angeles & London: University of California Press, 1993), 570. 4 For this distinction, see Peter Nicholls, “The Elusive Allusion: Poetry and Exegesis,” in Peter Middleton and Nicky Marsh, ed., Teaching Modernist Poetry (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010), 10-24. I have examined the formal and conceptual consequences of Pound’s emphasis on the referential in “Late Pound: The Case of Canto CVII,” Journal of Philosophy: A Cross- Disciplinary Inquiry, 8. 20 (Fall, 2015), 1-16. 5 Pound, Cantos, 1986: 564. I borrow the distinction between “parental” and “ancestral” from Walter Jackson Bate, The Burden of the Past and the English Poet (London: Chatto & Windus, 1971), 22 on the tradition not as “an authority looming over you but . . . As something ancestral rather than parental.” NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 53 though they would come under steady pressure from the referential impulse in Pound’s writing. I want to revisit this argument, but from another point of view and one more clearly within the particular purview of Glossator. For might this tension between reference and allusion be conceived also as one between the impulse to interpretation, on the one hand, and to commentary, on the other? I don’t mean to suggest that the two can be simply set over against each other, as Hans Ulrich Gumbrecht does, for example, when he proposes a “contrast” between “the finite task of interpretation and the never-ending task of commentary.”6 It is more plausible, perhaps, to regard the two as inextricably related, but as extremes of a shared continuum.7 Either way, the traditional association of commentary with copia, with abundance and amplification, seems relevant to the late Cantos, where Pound’s fondness for commentary elicits a corresponding desire on the part of the reader to supplement the text’s elliptical fragments, to recombine them into some ever-expanding whole.8 There is more, then, to the late Cantos than the simple and sometimes irksome task of hunting down references. Yet Pound himself seems to have been conflicted on exactly this issue, both wanting his ideal reader to follow his trail back to the particular texts to which he elliptically refers, and investing in a dream of his own poem’s self-sufficiency, in its capacity to serve indeed as “A portable substitute for the British Museum.”9 The source, we might say, is at once valued as origin and seen as somehow lacking, as requiring the Poundian text aesthetically to complete it. What the late Cantos “add” is something in excess of the belated disclosure of a referent; indeed, the almost allegorical whirring of gears that signals that movement of interpretation is quite different from the nuanced withholding of revelation that is also a highly distinctive feature of Rock-Drill and Thrones (as we shall see, Pound 6 Hans Gumbrecht, The Powers of Philology: Dynamics of Textual Scholarship (Urbana and Chicago, IL: University of Illinois Press, 2003), 43. 7 The jury is far from out on this question: see Roy K. Gilson and Christina Shuttleworth, ed., Classical Commentary: Histories, Practices, Theory (Brill: Leiden, 2002), 4: “A commentary is first and foremost an interpretation.” 8 On copia and the “desire to write,” see Terence Cave, The Cornucopian Text: Problems of Writing in the French Renaissance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1979), 25. 9 Pound, “How to Read” (1929), in Literary Essays, ed., T. S. Eliot (London: Faber and Faber, 1968), 16. GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 54 would talk frequently of anagogy in regard to those late parts of the poem). This arguably explains why in the very penultimate line of The Cantos Pound can still express the desire to “enter arcanum” (CXVII/823) even though, as Peter Liebregts notes, the poet “was not really interested in the Plotinian One, but more in the Nous, the world of Platonic Forms,” a world the poet himself memorably defines as “the reality of the nous, of mind, apart from any man’s individual mind, of the sea crystalline and enduring, of the bright as it were molten glass that envelops us, full of light.”10 Pound’s “medievalism” hinges in part on this way of thinking of knowledge as distinct from the property of “any man’s individual mind.” He shares with Italian thinker Giorgio Agamben a concern with a fundamental historical shift in philosophical thinking as it moved away from problems relating to the one and the many to the very different ones arising from the relation of subject to object.11 Before Descartes, Agamben suggests in Infancy and History, experience and knowledge occupied quite distinct realms: “The subject of experience was common sense, something existing in every individual…while the subject of science is the noūs or the active intellect, which is separate from experience . . . [T]he single individual was the sub-jectum in which the active, unique and separate intellect actuated knowledge.”12 With Descartes, “a new metaphysical subject” appears, the “substantive I, in which the union of noūs and psychē, experience and knowledge, takes place,” and now we see “The removal of imagination from the realm of experience” as it comes to be regarded as something “unreal” (“its place has been 10 Peter Liebregts, Ezra Pound and Neoplatonism (Madison, WI: Farleigh Dickinson University Press, 2004), 28; Pound, Guide to Kulchur (1938; London: Peter Owen, 1966), 44. Cf. Haoming Liu, “Pharmaka and Volgar’ Eloquio: Speech and Ideogrammatic Writing in Ezra Pound’s Canto XCVIII,” Asia Major, 22. 2 (2009), 191: “the origin . . . is not privileged over its emanations . . . rather, the mediated, realized state of the effulgence of the origins is preferable to the pursuit of an unmediated, apocalyptical visions of the origin.” 11 Giorgio Agamben, Infancy and History: The Destruction of Experience, trans. Liz Heron (London and New York: Verso, 1993), 21. Agamben doesn’t refer to Pound’s theories but he does quote from his 1912 Sonnets and Ballate of Guido Cavalcanti—see Stanzas: Word and Phantasm in Western Culture, trans. Ronald L. Martinez (Minneapolis and London: University of Minnesota Press, 1993), 104, 106. 12 Infancy and History, 20. NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 55 taken by the ego cogito”).13 Pound spoke rather similarly of “what Imagination really meant before the term was debased—presumably by the Miltonists, tho’ probably before them. It has to do with the seeing of visions.”14 In a section titled “Cavalcanti and Sade (Need and Desire),” Agamben sketches out the way in which the Provençal and stilnovo poets had discovered that “love takes as its subject not the immediate sensory thing, but the phantasm,” the mental image.15 He goes on to note: It is precisely because here love is not the opposition between a desiring subject and an object of desire, but has in the phantasm, so to speak, its subject-object, that the poets can define its character (in contrast with a fol amour which can only consume its object without ever being truly united with it, without ever experiencing it) as a fulfilled love [fin’amors], whose delights never end [‘gioi che mai non fina’].16 In Sade’s world, the phantasm is in contrast “infinitely elusive and hidden” because of imagination’s exclusion from experience; desire there mutates into insatiable need, so subverting what Pound called “the dogma that there is some proportion between the fine thing held in the mind, and the inferior thing ready for inferior consumption.”17 For the Provençal and stilnovo poets, love, whose object is inevitably situated elsewhere, could be brought to presence in the poetic word; the poem, says Agamben, becomes “the site where the fracture between desire and its unattainable object . . . is healed.” We have here “a circle where the phantasm generates desire, desire is translated into words, and the word defines a space wherein the appropriation of what could otherwise not be 13 Infancy and History, 28, 29 14 Quoted in K. K. Ruthven, A Guide to Ezra Pound’s Personae (1926) (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 1969), 56. Cf. Pound in Guide to Kulchur, 77-8: “Out beyond that, the so-called rational statements attempt to prove what can not be proved; attempt to lift zero by its own bootstraps. A man sits still and claims that he moves by interjecting a ‘therefore’. The Descartian hat trick. His grandfather was Aquinas.” 15 Infancy and History, 29. 16 Ibid., 26. 17 Pound, “Cavalcanti,” Literary Essays, 151. GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 56 appropriated or enjoyed is possible.”18 This circle, connecting “phantasm, desire, and word,” is a hermeneutic figure for the “joy that never ends,” a joy (Provençal joi) that, Agamben contends, is etymologically related to Latin Jocus as “word-play.”19 The cluster of elements here seems especially relevant to the late sections of The Cantos, especially if we add to them the kind of verbal play involved in commentary and allusion and the potential of this to combine linguistic precision with due acknowledgement of the mysterious nature of their subject matter.20 For as Pound began to make plans for the paradisal ending of his long poem, this question of the mysteries became increasingly prominent in his thinking. In Guide to Kulchur, for example: The Duce and Kung fu Tseu equally perceive that their people need poetry; that prose is NOT education but the outer courts of the same. Beyond its doors are the mysteries. Eleusis. Things not to be spoken save in secret.21 This idea of the ineffable, of what cannot and should not be uttered, warns us against the kind of reading that would seek to interpret mysteries that are concealed behind doors and available only to the initiate. Mysteries tease; they invite innuendo (literally, a “nodding” to suggest a secret knowledge shared). And by teasing they tempt us to commentary, to a sort of circumlocutory reading that accepts in advance its failure to penetrate to the core of the mystery and is satisfied with—indeed, delights in—the echoes and associations it can 18 Stanzas, 129. Agamben concludes here that “the typically medieval conception of the phantasmatic character of love finds its resolution and fulfillment in poetic practice.” 19 Stanzas, 129, 130 n.9. The phrase “Joy that never ends” (“gioia che mai non fina”) is quoted from Guido delle Colonne (ibid., 131 n.11). 20 So Pound writes (Literary Essays, 159) of Cavalcanti’s Canzone: “‘BUT THE POEM IS VERY OBSCURE.’ The poem is extremely clear in a number of places, the philosophic terms are used with a complete precision of technique.” Agamben, Stanzas, 106 remarks rather similarly: “The famous canzone ‘Donna me prega,’ the axis of Cavalcanti’s trobar clus (‘closed,’ obscure style of making poetry), is nevertheless clearly illuminated if we restore it to the complex of doctrine that we have attempted to resuscitate.” 21 Guide to Kulchur, 144-5. NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 57 weave around the text, literally and metaphorically loading its margins with comment.22 A poetics of allusion, then, is one that does not “consume” its object through interpretation, but rather amplifies it by a synchronized reading that leaves the original intact, still speaking partly for itself. In Canto XCI it has already been said that “They who are skilled in fire // shall read [ideogram] tan, the dawn” XCI/635) and this is now underlined in Canto XCVIII on which I shall concentrate here: “there is no sight without fire,” we are told in its opening lines (XCVIII/704). Fire, it seems, permits a particular kind of “semiophanic” reading, not of readily graspable “truths,” so much as of flickering, insubstantial signs, with “a fanned flame in their moving” (685).23 Such reading does not seek to interrogate—“ne quaesaris,” “ask not” (XCVIII/704)24—but rather allows words to be “resplendent” with possible meanings, “with the sun (chih) / under it all” (XCIX/719). Perhaps Pound recalled here the close of Fenollosa’s “The Chinese Written Character”: “Thus in all poetry a word is like a sun, with its corona and chromosphere; words crowd upon words, and enwrap each other in their luminous envelopes until sentences become clear, continuous light-bands”).25 In the late Cantos, Pound is not concerned so much with “continuous” sentences as with moments in which light is kindled and momentarily transfigures everything around it: “A match flares in 22 Cf. Paul Valéry, Leonardo, Poe, Mallarmé, trans. Malcolm Cowley and James R. Lawler (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1972), 180: “the attentive reading of a book is really a continuous commentary, a succession of notes that emanate from the inner voice.” 23 Cf. Roland Barthes, “Loyola,” Sade Fourier Loyola, trans. Richard Miller (London: Jonathan Cape, 1977), 53: “the theophany he [Loyola] is methodically seeking is in fact a semiophany, what he is striving to obtain is more the sign of God than knowledge of Him or His presence.” 24 The phrase is repeated from Canto XCI/632. See Horace, Odes, I. 11. 1: “Tu ne quaesieris, scire nefas, quem mihi, quem tibi / finem di dederint, Leuconoe”: “Don’t ask (we may not know), Leuconoe, / What the gods plan for you or me.” Pound notes in The Spirit of Romance, 96 that “Anatole France, in his commentary on Horace’s ‘Tu ne quaesaris,’ has told us a good deal about the various Oriental cults thronging the Eternal City.” The reference is probably to France’s note on his poem “Leuconoé,” in Poésie de Anatole France (Paris: Librairie Alphonse Lemerre, 1895), 281-4. 25 Ernest Fenollosa and Ezra Pound, The Chinese Written Character as a Medium for Poetry, ed., Haun Saussy, Jonathan Stalling, and Lucas Klein (New York: Fordham University Press, 2008), 60. GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 58 the eyes’ hearth / then darkness” (CVI/772). This motif of flaring light, at once dazzling and intermittent, haunts the whole poem which is aptly imagined in its closing movement as “A little light, like a rushlight / to lead back to splendor” (CXVI/817).26 To read by such a light is to grasp at connections that “flare” and then as suddenly recede. Pound’s commentary on the texts that fascinate him—a reading and writing between their lines—offers an invitation to the reader to approach The Cantos in the same way. Commentary, in contrast to mere source-hunting, can satisfy the curiosity that “reaches into greater detail” (XCVI/679) at the same time that it makes an abundance of “detail” a kind of substitute for a definitive ending.27 Commentary is in this sense our compensation for lack of the “full Ειδὼς” or “knowing” (Canto LXXXI/540) that even the extreme experience of Pisa cannot deliver.28 But it is a compensation that brings its own difficulties: as Pound notes in Canto XCVIII/691, “the text is somewhat exigeant” (not “exigent,” though it may be that too); it exacts, in short, a particular demand on the reader. This phrase occurs in the course of Pound’s redaction of an ancient Chinese work that is in its turn also a commentary: The Sacred Edict, originally issued as sixteen Maxims by Emperor K’ang Hsi in 1670, was expanded in 1724 by his son, Yung-chêng, and then enlarged again and rendered into colloquial language by Salt Commissioner Wang-lu-p’uh. Canto XCVIII draws for the most part on the latter 26 Cf. Margaret Fisher, Ezra Pound’s Radio Operas: The BBC Experiments, 1931- 1933 (Cambridge, MA and London: MIT Press, 2002), 152-3 on the “flamelike” musical structure of the “Donna mi prega” aria in Pound’s opera Cavalcanti: “The scalar melodies . . . ascend and descend, flamelike in their rise and fall, occasionally licking up to the octave . . . a repetitious flamelike pattern conflates the language of philosophy with a nostalgia for a troubadour past.” The motif of flame and fire is, of course, deeply indebted to Dante—see, for example, Purgatorio, XVIII, 28-33. 27 Cf. Geoffrey Hartman, “Preface” to Harold Bloom et al, Deconstruction and Criticism (New York: Continuum, 1979), viii: “Commentary, the oldest and most enduring literary-critical activity, has always shown that a received text means more than it says (it is ‘allegorical’), or that it subverts all possible meanings by its ‘irony’—a rhetorical and structural limit that prevents the dissolution of art into positive and exploitative truth.” 28 The substitution of this participial construction in place of Pound’s original eidos is discussed in Ronald Bush, “La filosofica famiglia: Cavalcanti, Avicenna, and the ‘Form’ of Ezra Pound’s Pisan Cantos,” Textual Practice, 24. 4 (2010), 691. NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 59 rendition, while Canto XCIX employs Yung Chêng’s text and engages in a more specifically philological reading. These different layers of commentary in the Edict provide a sort of model for Pound’s own procedures here, taking him well beyond the brief authorial interruptions in the Adams and China Cantos. There the poem had drawn its energy from the narrative drive of its original multivolume texts; in Rock-Drill and Thrones, however, Pound’s sources live on spezzato, absorbed into a fast-moving process of commentary where the expression of high-minded thoughts in a popular idiom generates humorous gyrations of tone (“the right pattern of levy is yang4 cheng1 / id est: for use / not a fountain of folderols / for top poppinjays” [XCIX/727]). It’s worth noting parenthetically that Baller introduced his translation with the unpromising warning that “These moral maxims have no life-giving power in them. They are as sterile as a schoolboy’s copy book headings.”29 This was, for Baller, “mere morality” without the illuminating truth of Christian revelation; for Pound, any “sterility” would be amply compensated for by enlightened commentary. As we have noted, Pound nonetheless finds the text at times “somewhat exigeant” (XCVIII/711), this phrase referring in context to two ideograms he inscribes twice in this Canto: cheng king. (XCVIII/711) 29 F. W. Baller, trans. The Sacred Edict, 6th edition (Shanghai: China Island Mission, 1924), iv. GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 60 In his translation of the Edict, F. W. Baller notes that the two characters together mean “‘upright’ in a Confucian sense. Here it applies rather to individual deportment than to rectitude between man and man.”30 Baller’s word “deportment” no doubt strikes Pound as a trivialization of Confucian principle since, as the Companion observes, the character king or, in Baller’s transliteration, ching means on its own “the classics,” so we might conclude that the text is “somewhat exigeant” because it asks us to consider the effective relation of manners to knowledge. This is demanding in several ways, partly because it requires a discriminating attention to the constituents of individual written characters, but also because it urges us to think outside the moral categories of Baller’s orthodox Christianity. That there is, indeed, a wisdom that exceeds simple “uprightness” is hinted at in the allusion to “Kung’s porch” in the lines that follow: as Baller observes, the character mên3 means “Lit., door: hence into a sect, or the sect itself: ep. ‘disciples of the Porch’,”31 and this idea of a threshold to cross suggests again an “arcanum” that resists “ordinary” reading at the same time as it seems necessarily to produce more writing. One might think, in parenthesis, of Alain Badiou’s account of Mallarmé’s Un Coup de dès as a poem that “does not ask to be interpreted, nor does it possess any keys. The poem demands that we delve into its operation. The enigma lies in this very demand.”32 The “demand” is that we “enter” the poem “not in order to know what it means, but rather to think what happens in it.” Badiou’s phrasing is a little enigmatic, perhaps, but his emphasis on reading as event rather than as interpretation may be helpful in dealing with Thrones. Certainly, a thinking about “what happens” in the poem resonates with the idea of commentary as Pound conceives it in the late Cantos, entailing not just the minute scrutiny of a text’s verbal components, but a pleasurable practice of reflection that entwines itself with its object, slipping fluently between different languages and tonal registers. “Quis erudiet without documenta?”, he asks in Canto LXXXVI/581,33 a phrase in 30 The Sacred Edict, 5 n.9. 31 The Sacred Edict, 5 n.8. 32 Alain Badiou, Handbook of Inaesthetics, trans. Alberto Toscano (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 2005), 29. 33 For the passage, see Thomas Grieve, “The Séraphin Couvreur Sources of Rock-Drill,” Paideuma, 4. 2 & 3 (Fall and Winter 1975), 466: “Qui non sequitur antiquorum documenta, in quibus ille erudiet?” NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 61 which the English “without” emphasizes the interruptive practice of commentary and highlights the work of translation on which its practice so frequently depends34 (in the text of the Confucian Chou King that Pound is using here the Chinese is translated into both Latin and French and commentary moves freely between them).35 Yet the pedagogical tone can be slightly misleading, for along with Pound’s desire to instruct his readers, to send them to the “facts,” there is a proliferation of allusive connections in the late Cantos that renders systematic commentary almost impossible. In Canto CIII, Pound quotes from the Analects: “‘I see its relation to one thing, / Hui sees its relation to ten’” (CIII/752).36 The ideal reader of Thrones, we conclude, will be one who, like Hui, sees the poem’s multilevel commentaries as a constantly proliferating network of “relations.” We are close here to that work of the future that Roland Barthes imagines as “an object made of commentaries,” a reticulated textual structure in which allusion makes good on its etymological promise of play and pleasure.37 In the following pages I want to look 34 On the connections between commentary and translation see, for example, Antoine Berman, “Critique, commentaire et traduction (Quelques réflexions à partir de Benjamin et de Blanchot),” Poésie, 37. 2 (1986), 104: “Le travail du traducteur est rigoreusement parallèle à celui du commentateur. Lui aussi, il longe le texte, s’enfonce dans son épaisseur signifiante, s’attarde et s’attache aux détails: pour lui, en fait, le texte n’est que détail signifiant.” 35 Pound’s source is Séraphin Couvreur, Chou King: Les Annales de la Chîne (1897; Paris: Cathasia, 1950). See also Daniel K. Gardner, “Confucian Commentary and Chinese Intellectual History,” Journal of Asian Studies, 57. 2 (May 1998), 400-1: “Commentary is interlinear, interrupting the words of the classic . . . interlinear commentary makes the claim that every word, every sentence, every paragraph of the canonical text is profoundly significant, deserving of the most genuine and thorough reflection.” 36 Pound, Confucius (New York: New Directions, 1969), 210: “1. He [Confucius] asked Tze-Kung: who comprehends most, you or Hui? 2. The answer: No comparison, Hui hears one point and relates it to ten (understands its bearing on ten, I on one only); I hear one point and can only get to the next. 3. He said: Not the same, I agree you are not alike.” 37 Roland Barthes, The Grain of the Voice: Interviews 1962-1980, ed. Stephen Heath, trans. Linda Coverdale (New York: Hill and Wang, 1985), 82: “Mutatis mutandis, the Middle Ages lived solely on rereading ancient texts, in Greek or Latin. Perhaps literature will now be precisely that: an object made of commentaries, a tutor of other languages, period. Who knows?” For a discussion of Barthes’s “medievalism,” see Bruce Holsinger, The GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 62 primarily at several semantic clusters in Canto XCVIII that work on the edges, as it were, of Pound’s more sustained commentary on The Sacred Edict, clusters that seem also to signal the spirit in which the work of reader and writer should be undertaken. II: HILARITAS Commentary thus considered is rather different from the multiple “keys” provided by Carroll F. Terrell’s Companion, indispensable as those have become. We are so used to reading the difficult late Cantos either through a prior knowledge of Pound’s ideas or by a frequently unrewarding return to his sources that we are almost unable to recover the sense of reading as ludic commentary that governed the poet’s own practice at so many points. This was the Pound who observed in his redaction of passages from the Roman Pandects that “then the fun starts” (XCIV/654) and who rather inappropriately informed a testy Wyndham Lewis that “The fun of the next 50 years is in the greek not the latin”38 “Fun” might seem an odd word to use about the lexical maneuvers of Thrones, but the “demand” made here is also in its less coercive forms an invitation to read as a commentator might, in the spirit of Chaucer’s “Glossynge is a glorious thing, certeyn.”39 The promise of the late Cantos—and it is one often compromised by more authoritarian and “referential” tendencies in the poem—is that Pound’s text might be animated by a humor that extends from the simplest joke or witticism to the metaphysical “joy” so ardently cultivated by the Provençal and stilnovo poets, a joy that, rather like commentary itself, “never ends.” Hugh Kenner is perhaps the only critic to have caught this aspect of Thrones when he remarked that “Good humor is conspicuous in these [late] Cantos (‘Gemisto: “Are Gods by hilaritas’” . . . ). Pound takes huge enjoyment in his lexicographic Premodern Condition: Medievalism and the Making of Theory (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 2005), 152-94. 38 Pound/Lewis: The Letters of Ezra Pound and Wyndham Lewis (London: Faber and Faber, 1985), 303. Cf. Ezra Pound’s Letters to William Watt, ed., William Watt (Marquette, MS: Northern Michigan University Press, 2001), n.p. (April 3, 1957): “. . . gk is / the future, and Byzance makes mediaval [sic] latin look corny / in fact most latin look corny.” 39 Chaucer, “The Summoner’s Tale,” l.1792. NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 63 high jinks.”40 This word hilaritas certainly has a richness to cheer the commentator and I shall take it as a major clue to how we might read the late Cantos. In its few but resonant appearances in the poem it quickly comes to signify something more than mere geniality, though that meaning has, to be sure, an important role to play in what Pound adjudges “civility” to be. Indeed, hilaritas along with a series of cognate terms comes to function as something akin to what Heidegger called his “elemental words” (Grundworte).41 Although it appears only four times in The Cantos, hilaritas names an increasingly complex semantic field which, as we shall see, has rich formal and conceptual implications for the closing stages of the poem.42 We first encounter it toward the end of the Pisan sequence (LXXXIII/548) where we observe an important conjunction of now familiar elements. Under the double sign of water/HUDOR and peace/Pax, Pound recalls Neoplatonist Gemisto Plethon’s derivation of the gods from Neptune and the bas reliefs of the Tempio Malatestiano (Sigismundo Malatesta had transported philosopher Gemisto’s body to its final resting place in the Tempio Malatestiano at Rimini43): 40 Hugh Kenner, The Pound Era (Berkeley and Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1971), 534. 41 Martin Heidegger, Being and Time, trans. John Macquarrie and Edward Robinson (Oxford: Blackwell, 1962), 262: “the ultimate business of philosophy is to preserve the force of the most elemental words in which Dasein expresses itself, and to keep the common understanding from leveling them off to that unintelligibility which functions in turn as a source of pseudo- problems” (emphases in original). Cf. Timothy Clark, Martin Heidegger (London: Routledge, 2011), 79: “These are words in which decisive deep- historical (geschichtlich) shifts show up, where little noticed but colossal alterations in the human world are at work in language.” 42 The account offered here thus differs from Walter B. Michaels, “Pound and Erigena,” Paideuma, I. 1 (Spring & Summer 1972), 51: “There is no further mention of Erigena in the Pisan Cantos and there are no more clusters organized around him in the entire poem.” 43 “Chi vedrà più il sepolcro di Gemisto / Che tanto savio fu, se pur fu Greco?” (XLII/428) GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 64 (LXXXIII/548) Pound weaves together the light metaphysics of Robert Grosseteste (“lux enim”44) with a reference to fire as the attribute or “accident” of light, and these allusions are then associated with “Hilaritas the virtue hilaritas” which Pound attributes to the ninth-century philosopher Johannes Scotus Erigena. The Latin word means cheerfulness, good humor, joyousness, merriment; it is customarily associated with celebration (in Ancient Rome, hilaria were public holidays and on coinage Hilarity was personified as a matron holding a branch of palm in one hand and a cornucopia in the other). Thus associated with abundance and generosity, hilaritas might be the perfect virtue to preside over the ludic commentaries of The Cantos.45 Fittingly, perhaps, the word enters the poem by way 44 Pound, Literary Essays, 161. The Companion gives “for light / is an attribute of fire.” Liebregts, Ezra Pound and Neoplatonism, 285-6 suggests that Pound’s line break should be taken to show the harnessing together of Grosseteste’s “lux enim” with another Latin phrase and that this reverses the sense to mean “fire is an attribute or lumen of light.” 45 Agamben’s account of the historical separation of “imagination” from “experience” might be compared with Terence Cave’s discussion of the fate of copia—see The Cornucopian Text, 332: “Descartes suppresses eloquence, which had been crucial to the humanist encyclopedia; one might indeed say that he suppresses copia, the desire to give rein to the liberties of writing.” NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 65 of an amusing anecdote Pound encountered when he finally obtained the Abbé Migne’s collection of Scotus Erigena’s works late in 1939. In his introduction to the Periphyseon/ De Divisione naturae, editor C. B Schlueter recounts the story of King Charles the Bald asking the philosopher what separates a Scot from a sot (“Quid distat inter Sottum et Scottum”), to which Erigena had wittily replied “This table” (“Tabula tantum”).46 As Pound noted in a letter to T. S. Eliot, Schlueter took the anecdote to show Erigena’s “Pietate insignia atque hilaritate,” his “gracefully balanced piety and good humour.”47 The reference to humor in the dense text of Migne’s Patrologia is eye- catching, certainly, but at first sight it’s difficult to gauge its relation to the visionary evocations of water and light that precede it in Pound’s lines. What we do notice, though, is that Erigena’s witty riposte has the power to undercut the most absolute of social divisions, placing king and subject momentarily on the same level, separated only by a table. As Mark Byron has observed, Pound is commending the civility of Charles’s court, though already the mystical implications of “the virtue hilaritas” seem to exceed mere social manners.48 There are indications that Pound had been drawn to the word hilaritas before he began writing the later Cantos: in Guide to Kulchur, for example, he had admired the phrase l’ilarità del Tuo Volto in an 46 John Scotus Erigena, Opera Omnia quae Supersunt Omnia, ed. Henry Joseph Floss, in Patrologia Latina, vol.122, ed. Jacques-Paul Migne (Paris, 1853), col. 0017A. Cf. Jacques Le Goff, “Laughter in the Middle Ages,” in Jan Bremmer and Herman Roodenburg, ed., A Cultural History of Humour (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1997), 44, on the topos of the jesting king, rex facetus. 47 Letter to T. S. Eliot, January 18, 1940, in Selected Letters of Ezra Pound 1907- 1941, ed. D. D. Paige (London: Faber and Faber, 1950), 334. The translation is by Mark Byron, Ezra Pound’s Eriugena (London and New York: Bloomsbury, 2014), 116. For the passage from Schlueter’s 1838 Preface, see Migne, Patrologia Latina, 122, col.121B: “Quum enim auctor noster tam pietate, quam hilaritate insignis.” Pound’s shorthand reference in his notes (Byron, Ezra Pound’s Eriugena, 179) gives “pietate, hilaritas / insignis.” 48 Byron, Ezra Pound’s Eriugena, 204. Byron also comments on Erigena’s “courtly persona” (11) and on the relevance of his “excellent verses,” in Pound’s phrase: “The cultivation of hilaritas in the court is evident in Erigena’s poetry and the circumstantial evidence of interlinguistic puns and comedic set-pieces, of which ‘tabula tantum’ is the most celebrated example” (82). GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 66 Italian prayer,49 and Erigena had figured prominently in the Italian draft Cantos produced before Pound’s internment at Pisa. One extended passage, simply headed “ERIGENA,” refers to the philosopher as “Dottor Ilare,” and bearing this name he is then associated with “gaiezza e splendore.”50 Already hilaritas denotes something more than simple good humor, and one can see how it goes on to acquire further and richer associations for Pound in a cancelled draft of the lines from Canto LXXXI (520) that record “new subtlety of eyes” in the poet’s tent: “Ed ascoltando al leggier mormorio. As I was list list’ning to th’ enchanted song / there came no new subtlety of eyes into ⌃within⌃ my tent / whether of spirit or hypostasis / of glad hilarities . . . .”51 Like the final version of the passage, these lines go on to associate the appearance of the eyes with the domino mask of “carneval,” but in the draft the “glad hilarities” are redoubled in pairs of smiling eyes (“but as unaware of other presence, / smiled, each ⌃pair⌃ as at loveliest”).52 The “unmasked eyes” remain in the published text, but while they still show no “anger,” the smile associated with them there has disappeared. It is, perhaps, a telling revision when we remember that in the Commedia, “Beatrice’s smile is the way that Dante journeys toward the beatific vision of God. Sorriso/sorridere and riso/ridere—as noun or verb, and apparently interchangeable in meaning—appear 49 Pound, Guide to Kulchur, 141. Noted by Michaels, “Pound and Erigena.” Cf. Le Goff, “Laughter,” 50: “In general, hilaris applies to the face: vultus hilaris means a happy, pleasant face; the expression corresponds almost exactly to what we today would call a laughing face, but decidedly not a hilarious face.” 50 Typescript draft in Italian (Cantos LXXIV-LXXXIV), published in Byron, Ezra Pound’s Eriugena, 267-9: “Dottor Ilare rispettò la ragione / bontà di Dio ebbe in giuderdone, d’ogni ciclo cittadino / Omnia lunim [sic] lumina sunt . . . ciò che esiste e luce e non specchio / e non e specchio morto, pur se rifletta / anzi in se contiene i luce, quindi esiste / la / gaiz gaiezza e splendore . . .” “Dr. Ilare” appeared in a draft version of Canto LXXIV: see Ronald Bush, “Towards Pisa: More from the Archives about Pound’s Italian Cantos,” Agenda, 34, 3-4 (1996/7), 93. 51 Draft of Canto LXXXI, quoted in Ronald Bush, “La filosofica famiglia”, 689. 52 For origins of the reference to “carnival,” see the draft passage quoted in Ronald Bush, “Towards Pisa,” 114. See also the “Procession on procession” in Ur-Canto II—“Three Cantos of a Poem of Some Length,” in Ezra Pound, Early Writings: Poems and Prose, ed. and introd. Ira B. Nadel (New York: Penguin Books, 2005), 153. NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 67 over seventy times in the poem, in a wide variety of contexts.”53 These smiles radiate both beauty and warmth in the often chilly doctrinal regions of the Paradiso. Yet Beatrice’s smile is, arguably, too much Dante’s own remarkable invention for it to become a redemptive motif in the late Cantos, though it is tempting to think that Pound discovered in Erigena’s hilaritas another—and earlier— variation on the theme.54 We can see, at any rate, that in expanding the word’s range of meanings Pound bore Dante’s example in mind, for in the Commedia the smile is constantly the sign par excellence of beatitude and cosmic harmony, yielding in Paradiso XXVII (4-5) the splendid conceit of “un riso / dell’universo”. These lines show, too, that this smile is occasioned by the music of the Gloria Patria, “sì che m’inebriava il dolce canto,” “so that the sweet song held me rapt.” Like the song, the smile is all-embracing, drawing everything together in its spontaneous lyric effulgence.55 And like song, it expresses a jubilation that is at once sensuous and spiritual.56 Indeed, the smile introduces into the profound story of redemption what Peter Hawkins aptly calls “a spirit of sublime play.”57 In doing so it 53 Peter Hawkins, “All Smiles: Poetry and Theology in Dante,” PMLA, 121. 2 (March 2006), 378 (his emphasis). Hawkins notes (382) that “The smiles that accumulate faster and faster as the poem moves toward its conclusion may even be a sign that the poet is emulating the lieto fattore, the happy divine creator.” 54 Hawkins, “All Smiles,” 382 concludes that “the smile is not only Dante’s signature gesture but perhaps his most original and indeed useful contribution to medieval theology—and indeed to the Christian tradition itself, which has long found it easier to recall that ‘Jesus wept’ than to imagine that he might have laughed as well.” Hawkins also traces the emergence of the smile in medieval culture, noting the importance of hilaritas to Saint Francis and his followers (377) and concluding that “In the mid-thirteenth century, beatitude became something to smile about.” 55 See Hawkins, “All Smiles,” 381 on the “self-reflecting divine smile” in Paradiso, XXXIII, 124-6. 56 Compare Robin Blaser, “Great Companion: Dante Alighiere” (1997), in The Holy Forest: Collected Poems of Robin Blaser (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 2003), 441 on “the gift of the amorous and poetic experience so entangled--/ the face haunting the curious laughter of the syl-/ lables...” (italics in original). 57 Hawkins, “All Smiles,” 382. Cf. Massimo Verdicchio, The Poetics of Dante’s Paradiso (Toronto, Buffalo, London: University of Toronto Press, 2010), x: “The Paradiso is probably the most comical of the three cantica. Dante’s GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 68 insinuates a subtle irony for, as critic Massimo Verdicchio suggests, “the blessed souls still have something to hide, something of their past earthly life of which they are ashamed but which is revealed, nonetheless.”58 In Paradise there is no punishment and no repentance, only that delicate inflection of the lips whose irony Dante subtly remarks through Folco’s speech in Canto IX: “Non però si pente, ma si ride, / non de la colpa, ch’a mente non torna, / ma del valor ch’ordinò e provide” (103-5).59 Pound quotes these lines in his early essay on Dante, remarking that they might provide “matter for a philosophical treatise as long as the Paradiso” and this ninth Canto of the Commedia was certainly in his mind as he wrote Thrones (the title of the sequence originated here, with the idea of the mirrors—“You call them Thrones”—from which “God in judgment shines upon us” [IX, 61-2]).60 As Pound had recognized, then, this smile is a complex one that signals the perpetual delight of the blessed at the same time as it acknowledges the errors of their mortal lives. This is also the Canto in which Cunizza speaks and Pound shares with Dante an admiration for the way in which this woman after leading a dissolute life redeemed herself by freeing her slaves.61 The deftly ironic twist of Dante’s lines as he presents the souls of the Heaven of Venus intimates transcendence without severing connection from the human and mundane (“the backward glance toward a sinful life once lived . . . carries with it no sense of humour is at its highest when dealing with these souls, which he treats with the highest regard but also with the highest irony.” 58 Verdicchio, The Poetics, 3 59 The Divine Comedy, Paradiso: 1. Text, trans. Charles S. Singleton (Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1975), 101: “Yet here we repent not, but we smile, not for the fault, which returns not to mind, but for the Power that ordained and foresaw.” Verdicchio, The Poetics observes (56) that “This is the virtue of the Heaven of Venus, which turns punishment into an ironic smile.” Singleton’s translation of The Divine Comedy will be referred to throughout. 60 Pound, The Spirit of Romance (1910; New York: New Directions, 1968) 146. The reference to Dante’s Thrones occurs also in the pre-Pisan drafts— see Bush, “Towards Pisa,” 115. 61 Pound, The Spirit of Romance, 146. He also notes the appearance of Cunizza “in defiance of convention.” Verdicchio, The Poetics notes (55) that “she would be a good candidate for the fate of the lustful of Inferno V, had it not been for the intervention of Dante’s Providence, which arbitrarily places her in Paradiso IX.” For the various references to Cunizza in The Cantos, see Bush, “Towards Pisa,” 122 n.11. NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 69 recrimination,” as Peter Hawkins puts it).62 It bespeaks a generosity of vision that is not without poignancy, as Jorge Luis Borges once noted of the moment in Paradiso XXXI when Beatrice bestows her last smile on Dante and turns again to the eternal fountain (91-3): Borges points up the moment of piercing loss produced by what he calls this “eternal turning away of the face” even though it is also, of course, the prelude to Dante’s induction into even higher mysteries.63 All of which reminds us that, as Benedetto Croce long ago pointed out, what we do not find in the Commedia is “flight from the world, absolute refuge in God, asceticism.”64 For Pound, hilaritas speaks metonymically for the human comedy in its entirety, coupling common good humor with a cosmic principle that fuses the mind’s “awareness” with the “flowing” motion of the universe. The word hilaritas appears three more times in The Cantos, (twice in Canto XCVIII and once in Canto C), on each occasion acquiring new and complex associations.65 In the first of these passages, Eriugenian humour (also in evidence in his “excellent verses” [548]) is again aligned with the Greek neo-Platonist Gemisto Plethon who now seems to speak directly for “the virtue hilaritas”: “But Gemisto: ‘Are Gods by hilaritas’; / and their speed in communication” (705); the second passage is a slight variant on the first: “‘By Hilaritas’, said Gemisto, ‘by hilaritas: gods; / and by speed in communication” (710). The exact source of the second line is unclear: Peter Liebregts assigns it to a passage in Plethon’s Book of Laws where it is said that “The gods are everything in Nature that is 62 Hawkins, “All Smiles,” 375. 63 Jorge Luis Borges, “Beatrice’s Last Smile,” in Selected Non-Fictions, ed. Eliot Weinberger (New York: Penguin Books, 1999), 302-5. Cf. Rachel Jacoff, “The Post-Palinodic Smile: Paradiso VIII and IX,” Dante Studies, 98 (1980), 120: “The smile of these souls [Folco and Cunizza] implies a way of looking at the past equally free of guilt and nostalgia.” 64 Quoted in John D. Sinclair, trans., The Divine Comedy: Paradiso (New York: Oxford University Press, 1961), 456. Erich Auerbach, Mimesis: The Representation of Reality in Western Literature, trans. Willard R. Trask (1946; Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press, 1953) makes a powerful and influential case for Dante’s “realism” and his “closeness to the actual in the realm of the sublime” (185). 65 The Companion notes only two of these appearances. The allusion in Canto LXXXIII is there traced to Schlueter’s Preface, though the gloss for hilaritas in Cantos XCVIII notes erroneously that it is “A neologism Pound created to stand for one of the primary ways divinity manifests in the world.” GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 70 greater and more blessed than human nature” and that they “are essentially pure forms and motionless minds, acting solely by thought,”66 while Pound in a letter to Wyndham Lewis reports that he found it in a recent study of Plethon by François Masai: “F. Masai on Plethon notes that gods are gods cause they got more hilaritas than the animal electoral, and also that they COMMUNICATE more rapidly with each other.”67 “Hilaritas” thus attaches itself to Gemisto, though there appears to be no direct source for this in Masai’s study unless it be in this account of the happiness of the gods: “Les dieux sont tous les êtres d’une nature plus elevée et plus heureuse que celle de l’homme.”68 As he composed Thrones, Pound was hopeful that “all [might] converge as the root” (XCIX/714), as a kind of ideogram in which his key thinkers might seem to share their insights among themselves, thus gesturing toward “the reality of the nous, of mind, apart from any man’s individual mind.”69 Drafts quoted by Liebregts show that provisional cross-overs of this kind included “‘Lux enim’ sd Plotinus” and an association of Cavalcanti with “hilaritas.”70 Pound believed that Gemisto was crucial to this assemblage, not only because he “stemmed all from Neptune” (LXXXIII/548), thus providing a genealogy of the gods in terms that seemed to echo his own talk of noūs as like “the sea crystalline and enduring,” but also 66 Liebregts, Ezra Pound and Neoplatonism does not give a full finding source. It is probably Gemisto Plethon, Traité des Lois, trad. A. Pélissier (Paris: Librairie de Firmin Didot Frères, 1858), 47: “ce sont des formes essentiellement pures, des esprits immuables, toujours et en toutes choses agissant par la seule force de leur proper pensée.” 67 Pound/Lewis, 303. François Masai, Pléthon et Le Platonisme de Mistra (Paris: Société d’Édition “Les Belles Lettres,” 1956). No obvious source suggests itself in this text; however, see 257: “il semble que les ‘genres supérieurs’ communient entre eux plus encore que les hommes.” Or ibid., 120: “Les dieux sont tous les êtres d’une nature plus élevée et plus heureuse que celle de l’homme.” The phrase of Remy de Gourmont referring to the “animal electoral” is quoted by Pound in “Remy de Gourmont” (1920), Literary Essays, 347: “Le caractère fondamental du citoyen est donc le dévouement, la résignation et la stupidité; il exerce principalement ces qualités selon trois fonctions physiologiques, comme animal reproducteur, comme animal électoral, comme animal contribuable.” 68 Masai, Pléthon, 120. 69 Pound, Guide to Kulchur, 44. Cf. “But these had thrones, / and in my mind were still, uncontending” (CXIV/813). 70 Liebregts, Ezra Pound and Neoplatonism, 351, 341-2. NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 71 because Gemisto’s pantheon of gods seemed to represent an authentic polytheism. Later, however, Pound reluctantly concluded that “He was not a proper polytheist, in this sense. His gods come from Neptune, so that there is a single source of being, acquatic (udor, Thales etc. as you like, or what is the difference).”71 A year later he noted that “Gemistus Plethon’s polytheism evaporated when one got near it.”72 When he read Masai’s book, even the primacy of Neptune in Gemisto’s system was thrown in doubt, for although Pound never mentioned this and the sea-god would make a heroic late appearance in Canto CXVI, Masai showed unequivocally that Gemisto’s pantheon of gods was in fact governed by Zeus (a diagrammatic genealogy is given in which Zeus is equated with “l’être,” while Poseidon follows him in the hierarchy and represents “l’acte”73). Comments made much later to his companion Olga Rudge show how heavily Pound had invested in his gamble on “convergence”: “To get rid of cheap blasphemy / a negative report on search for / polytheism & not finding any. / an attempt to establish neoplatonic / Xianity vs. the giudaic. & that / breaks down. Gemisto a key figure. / & that doesn’t work. / a collection of marginalia.”74 His mistake, Pound thought in retrospect, was that “the various figures shd be kept / as representing points of view. / mechanism instead of principle. which comes to / using occhio per la mente…” Yet the “principle,” as he calls it here—something akin to the “hermeneutic circle” described by Agamben, perhaps— 71 Pound, Guide to Kulchur, 224. 72 Letter to George Santayana, December 8, 1939, in Selected Letters of Ezra Pound, 331. Masai, Pléthon, 215 argues that Plethon’s Laws is only polytheistic “en apparence” and that “ce monde divin, passablement hétérogène, trouvait dans l’Un et le Bien un principe d’organisation véritablement monothéiste” (106 n.2). Masai, again unfortunately for Pound’s hopes of Gemisto, also flatly remarks (280) on “la pauvreté de sa sensibilité poétique”. Even worse, perhaps, Masai draws attention to Gemisto’s “communism” (92)! 73 Perhaps more encouragingly, though, Masai’s genealogy or “Tableau des catégories” also gives “1. Zeus (Dieu), 2. Poseidon (Nοϋς).” 74 Olga Rudge Papers, Beinecke Library, Box 101 (#2603), “Transcription E.P. Annotated copies of notebooks kept by Pound 1962-69.” An edition, edited by Richard Sieburth as Ezra Pound/Olga Rudge, Tempus Tacendi: The Late Venice Notebooks 1962-72 is forthcoming from New Directions. Pound here also regrets making “An attempt to pick particular / heretics to combine into a continuity. / An attempt to find historic cases / representing a theory & then finding / they do not.” GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 72 seemed at the time of Thrones to announce itself everywhere, fusing together ideas of love, justice, knowledge, and song in passages of rhythm that harmonized with the “world of light and flowing water” that Pound discerned in the Confucian texts.75 We can now begin to see why the nexus of associations that gathers around the repeated word “hilaritas” in Canto XCVIII is radically opposed to the gilded images that The Sacred Edict associates with Taoism (“Does god need a clay model? gilded?” [708]). For Pound, such images represent a vulgar fetishism, something far removed from the flickering and insubstantial modalities of thought that in these late Cantos he aligns with fire, song and “flowing” movement. We recall from the beginning of the Canto that “there is no sight without fire” (XCVIII/704), but this, it is clear, is an intellectual rather than sensory seeing. It is, to quote from Pound’s first translation of “Donna mi prega,” “an ardour of thought / that the base likeness of it [love] kindleth not”.76 Love derives initially from “a seen form,” but once rendered phantasmatic it is “not seen” (“forma non si vede”). This may explain Pound’s late habit of citing variant lines of the poem’s coda as reworked in the 1602 edition of Egidio Colonna’s commentary: Va spositione mia sicuramente A gente di valor, a cui ti mando, Di star con nessun’ huomo ti commando Il qual vuol usar l’occhio per la mente.77 Pound speculates that “This is very possibly Thomism, in extreme gibe at observing Averroists and Roger-Baconians,”78 a gibe, that is, against his own view that Cavalcanti is “modern” in his leaning toward “natural dimostramento,” or “the proof by experiment.”79 75 Mary Paterson Cheadle, Ezra Pound’s Confucian Translations (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press, 1997), 102 translates the following from an unpublished essay by Pound in Italian, “Ta Hio” (probably written between 1942 and 1944): “Confucian life and thought turns in a world of light and flowing water.” 76 Pound’s later translation is “Not in delight but in the being aware / Nor can he leave his true likeness otherwhere” (XXXVI/177). 77 Quoted in Pound, “Cavalcanti,” Literary Essays, 191. 78 “Cavalcanti,” Literary Essays, 191. 79 Ibid. NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 73 When he comes back to the coda in Canto XCIV, however, the emphasis is rather different: (XCIV/654) Now “Frate Egidio” is looking down from a superior height on those making the visionary ascent, and the successive tiers of crystal and jade seem to suggest that the late Cantos will acknowledge with him that at this level one should not “mistake the eye for the mind.” In a draft of Canto CII, Pound suggests that “Agassiz wd/ have placed the stress; anagogica / il qual vuol tenir l’occhio per la mente / PERI THEORIA, Plotinus, III.8,”80 where it would seem that to confuse perception with contemplation is to ignore that higher level of meaning that is anagogy. The latter term figures only once in The Cantos and then in a not particularly revealing context—“stimulate anagogico” (XCIX/730)—but it was something of a favorite for Pound in the period at St Elizabeths. In the draft passage just quoted, the “anagogic” is sourced to the Enneads, where Plotinus in section III. 8 describes “the advancing stages of Contemplation” in which “there can be no seeing (a pure unity has no room for vision and an object).”81 Anagogy was, of course, a term Pound had originally taken from Dante’s account in the Convivio of the four levels of 80 Quoted in Liebregts, Ezra Pound and Neoplatonism, 360. 81 Plotinus, The Enneads, trans. Stephen MacKenna, abridged and ed., John Dillon (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1991), III. 8. In a letter of November 1956, quoted in Liebregts, Ezra Pound and Neoplatonism, 342, Pound sketched his ideal edition of Plotinus, “omitting everything that is not religious / i.e. all the chopping of logic, and argument etc/ and leaving only the anagogic.” GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 74 meaning that inform the Commedia,82 though it was not a concept that Pound had had much time for in his early work (“Anagogical? Hell’s bells, ‘nobody’ knows what THAT is”).83 During the fifties, though, he began to think of it as a way of defining a certain grasp of “form” in the arts. Writing to William Watt, editor of an architectural magazine called Agora, he claimed: “Anagogic / term already starting to circulate / hits all the arts . . . ‘Anagogic’ integrates all the arts / as in fact the VORT idea did.”84 Brancusi, Pound says in that letter, is “definitely anagogic: prenez, manger!! / never merely occhio per la mente.”85 In the Convivio, Dante defines this fourth level of meaning as “above the sense,” “sovrasenso,”86 and this moving from perception to contemplation is indicated in a variety of ways in the late Cantos. Gemisto’s gods, as we have seen, are characterized as “acting solely by thought”, by the mind rather than by the eye, and while Guido’s Canzone begins with the sight of the lady (“Vien de veduta forma”), when she becomes an image or phantasm her form, as noted above, is no longer visible by sensory perception (“forma non si vede”). As Agamben puts it in his gloss on the Canzone, “even the sense of sight, since it is only an incidental cause of falling in love, is now excluded as inessential . . . 82 See Pound, Spirit of Romance, 127. He also knew, of course, Dante’s famous epistle to Can Grande—he recommends this in his letters to William Watt and says that he will ask Giovanni Giovannini, one of his visitors from the Catholic University, “to make new trans” (Ezra Pound’s Letters to William Watt [Marquette, MI: Northern Michigan University Press, 2001], May 27, 1957). 83 Pound, Jefferson and/or Mussolini: L’Idea Statale: Fascism as I Have Seen It (1935; New York: Liveright, 1970), 17. 84 Ezra Pound’s Letters to William Watt, May 27, 1957. 85 Ibid. The words “prenez, mangez” are from Matthew 26: 26: Jesus said “Take, eat; this is my body.” In his 1914 essay on “Vorticism,” in Gaudier- Brzeska: A Memoir (1916; Hessle, East Yorkshire: The Marvel Press, 1960), 98. Pound quotes Jacob Epstein “talking about ‘form, not the form of anything.’” One further indication of Pound’s use of the term “anagogic” is that the poet’s onetime companion, possibly mistress, Sheri Martinelli, published a short-lived magazine called the Anagogic & Paideumic Review when she left Pound in 1959 and moved to San Francisco. See Steven Moore, “Sheri Martinelli: A Modernist Muse,” http://www.gargoylemagazine.com/gargoyle/Issues/scanned/issue41/mod ern_muse.htm 86 Dante, Convivio, II.1.6. NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 75 in the proud awareness of the self-sufficiency of the imagination.”87 Pound arrives at the same conclusion in his working notes on Cavalcanti: love is “a light not an image / in the possib[le] intellect” and “can’t give a likeness -/ of ? [or?] image.”88 This distinction is one that he will reiterate in the late Cantos: he quotes St. Anselm, for example, “‘non spatio, sed sapientia’ / not in space but in knowing” (CV/766) and “speculum non est imago, / mirror, not image” (CV/768), concluding that “via mind is the nearest you’ll get to it” (CV/767). While writing Thrones, Pound was “mugging along with Plotinus,”89 and this late desire to pass beyond the image or (to use Cavalcanti’s word, the “simiglglianza”, “likeness”) found confirmation in the Enneads where, he noted, there was a “clear distinction between . . . EIDOS, form, shape, εΐδος / and Eikon, likeness, είκων.”90 Liebregts helpfully glosses these comments to Lewis with the following passage from Enneads, V.9.13, transcribed into one of Pound’s notebooks for Thrones: there must be true knowledge in the souls which are in us, and there are not images . . . or likenesses of their Forms as things are in the sense-world, but those very Forms existing here in a different mode: for they are not separated off in a particular place.91 87 Agamben, Stanzas, 106-7. 88 Quoted in Fisher, Ezra Pound’s Radio Operas, 155. This is the importance of the association of memory with the “Diafan dal lume” in the Canzone— in Dante’s words, Convivio, III.9: “These visible things . . . pass into the eye (I do not mean the things themselves, but their forms) through the diaphanous medium (not in reality but in intention), much as in transparent glass.” 89 Pound/Lewis, 301. 90 Ibid. “Simiglglianza”: given thus in Pound’s text of the Canzone, “Cavalcanti,” Literary Essays, 164. 91 Quoted in Liebregts, Ezra Pound and Neoplatonism, 343. The context suggests that this is Pound’s translation. Cf. MacKenna’s version: “Every soul, authentically a soul, has some form of rightness and moral wisdom; in the souls within ourselves there is true knowing: and these attributes are no images or copies from the Supreme, as in the sense-world, but actually are those very originals in a mode peculiar to this sphere. For those beings are not set apart in some defined place.” GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 76 “Existing here in a different mode”: Plotinus concluded this passage by noting that “the world of sense is one-where, the Intellectual Cosmos is everywhere. Whatever the freed soul attains to here, that is There.” “To make Cosmos” (CXVI/8155), to exceed the senses in “knowing” (εΐδος), but not to find that knowing “separated off” from the world—that would be precisely the hope of the last, fragmentary sequence of Cantos. At the end of his life, though, Pound would also see himself as one who had in fact mistaken the eye for the mind. In an unpublished Venice notebook of 1966, he writes: “The errors so / obvious ---/ che prende l’occhio per la mente,” and, as we have already seen, he places the Italian phrase in apposition to what he sees there as his own confusion of “mechanism” with “principle.” Yet when he lighted on the word “anagogical” in the fifties he was deeply responsive to its utopian inflection. In the old Latin mnemonic that defines the four senses, the anagogical is where one is going (“Quo tendas anagogia”), the promise of a future intermittently legible in the present.92 Anagogy is a “leading up,” in its original Greek meaning; it is what Agamben terms an “anagogical leap of love,”93 a phrase which nicely resonates with Canto XCVIII’s “speed in communication” and the idea of Neptune, with his “mind leaping / like dolphins” (CXVI/815). The redemption from Erebus that Pound records in Rock-Drill and Thrones is precisely this freeing of the imagination, with its discovery that the deictics of vision—most notably the ritually affirmative “now” that signals the mind’s ascent94—that these are, as it were, deictics of promise, implying a slight displacement from the immediacy of the present: the “form 92 The Latin mnemonic is: “Littera gesta docet, Quod credas allegoria. / Moralia quod agas, Quo tendas anagogia.” Compare Dante’s definition of faith in Paradiso, XXIV. 64-6: “fede è sustanza di cose sperate / e argomento de le non parventi; / e questa pare a me sua quiditate.” Pound alludes to this in LXXXIX/620: “Quiditas, remarked D. Alighieri.” See also Nicola Masciandaro, “Conjuring the Phantasm” (Review of Giorgio Agamben’s Signature of All Things), Theory and Event, 13. 3 (2010), np: “anagogy is constituted by the immanence of a redemptive future that is impossibly already sensible in the fractured terms of the present.” 93 Agamben, Stanzas, 141. 94 For one of many examples, see Canto XCI/628 where the purified present of emergence from Erebus is registered in a “now” that is loaded with futural implication (“For the procession of Corpus / come now banners,” etc.). NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 77 that seems a form seen in a mirror,” forms “that border the visible,”95 the “here” that is also partially an “elsewhere,” “Quo tendas.” The “hilaritas” that once described a philosopher’s sense of humor has now transformed itself into a kind of animating principle, and when Pound tells us that “love is the ‘form’ of philosophy” (XCIII/646) we begin to see what it means to read anagogically, with hilaritas: for this statement is partly tautological (love is the form of philo-sophy, love of knowledge); we have a proposition whose simple equivalence seems to slip the net of its own propositional logic, leaving us with “form” rather than meaning (hence, perhaps, Pound’s caveat here, that Dante “puts knowledge higher than I should”). Canto XCVIII’s two hilaritas clusters will now receive one last reprise, in Canto C: (C/736) A quite daring expansion of the term is attempted here, with hilaritas now expressing generosity and abundance through an allusion to the King of Persia’s offer to potential immigrants in 1823 of “gratuitous grants of land, good for the production of wheat, barley, rice, and fruits, free from taxes or contributions of any kind.”96 From this enlightened act of largesse we move by way of “hilaritas”—a slightly precipitous leap, but one for which Pound’s various 95 Pound, “Cavalcanti,” Literary Essays, 154. 96 The passage is first quoted in Canto LXXXVIII/604, from Thomas Hart Benton, Thirty Years’ View; or, A History of the Working of the American Government for Thirty Years, from 1820 to 1850, 2 vols. (New York: Appleton, 1854), I, 106. GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 78 recontextualisations have prepared us—to find the poet admiring in Paradiso XVIII “a religion” that celebrates “letizia,” gladness and joy: “e letizia era ferza del paleo,” “and gladness was the whip of the top.”97 Pound doesn’t quote Dante’s precise yet playful phrase, but the lines that follow are all concerned with energy and movement— with Virtù, the will (volontà), with the water falling “stone to stone” and with the sound that derives from the “lute’s neck.”98 As the river “descends,” Pound’s fragmentary allusions to Paradiso XVIII, XIX and XX trace Dante’s ascent in the final stages of his journey. Pound recalls once more his own escape from the “heaviness” of Erebus, “Where no mind moves at all,” and Erigena’s hilaritas is now subtly constellated with Dante’s letizia, the joy that makes the light spin.99 These two words will take their place with the troubadour joi when Pound quotes two resonant phrases from Bernart de Ventadorn in the final fragment of The Cantos: (CXVII/823) As Pound had translated the chanson back in 1910: “When I see the lark a-moving / For joy his wings against the sunlight, / Who forgets himself and lets himself fall / For the sweetness which goes into his 97 The Divine Comedy, Paradiso: 1. Text, 201. 98 Virtù: Paradiso, XVIII. 60, “la sua virtute avanza”; voluntà: Paradiso, XIX. 86-7, “La prima volontà, ch’è da sé buona, / da sé, ch’è sommo ben, mai non si mosse”; “Lume non è, se non dal sereno,” Paradiso, XIX. 64; “stone to stone,” Paradiso, XX. 20: “di pietra in pietra”; the “gemmed light,” Paradiso, XX. 17, “io vidi ingemmato il sesto lume”; “form is from the lute’s neck,” Paradiso, XX. 22-3, “E come suono al collo de la cetra / prende sua forma.” 99 See The Divine Comedy, Paradiso: 2: Commentary, 306 where Singleton quotes Grandgent’s gloss: “‘And joy was the whip of the top,’ i.e., it was joy that made it (the light) spin. Several times in the Paradiso Dante makes a swift rotary motion the symbol of keen delight.” NICHOLLS – CANTO XCVIII 79 heart.”100 The motif of flying and falling is rich in implication (“la faillite” is “bankruptcy101), embodying the (Icarian?) arc of Pound’s own career, from that early walking-tour in France to what is now the end of his poem as he confronts “a bridge over worlds.” Perhaps, too, the motif parallels the almost cyclothymic swings in the late Cantos themselves, as they veer between elation and depression, between the “hilarity” of allusion and the relative “heaviness” of the referential mode. It is finally, though, this soaring “joy” that leaves its indelible trace, making commentary for once unnecessary and leaving hilaritas to speak momentarily for itself. WORKS CITED Agamben, Giorgio, Infancy and History: The Destruction of Experience, trans. Liz Heron (London and New York: Verso, 1993). ———, Stanzas: Word and Phantasm in Western Culture, trans. Ronald L. 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Charles Camproux, “La joie civilisatrice des troubadours,” Table ronde, 97 (1956), 68 on “cette immense liberté d’action que laisse au jeu de l’alouette, l’éspace libre dont elle s’enivre et qui emplit tout son être de la joie la plus douce.” 101 For a helpful gloss on the first line, see Richard Sieburth, “Canto 119: François Bernouard,” Paideuma, 4. 2-3 (Fall and Winter 1975), 329-32. GLOSSATOR 10: THRONES 80 Berman, Antoine, “Critique, commentaire et traduction (Quelques réflexions à partir de Benjamin et de Blanchot),” Poésie, 37. 2 (1986): pp.88-106. Benton, Thomas Hart, Thirty Years’ View; or, A History of the Working of the American Government for Thirty Years, from 1820 to 1850, 2 vols (New York: Appleton, 1854). Blaser, Robin, The Holy Forest: Collected Poems of Robin Blaser (Berkeley, Los Angeles and London: University of California Press, 2003). Borges, Jorge Luis, Selected Non-Fictions (New York: Penguin Books, 1999). 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Peter Middleton and Nicky Marsh (London: Palgrave Macmillan, 2010): pp. 10-24. ———, “Late Pound: The Case of Canto CVII,” Journal of Philosophy: A Cross-Disciplinary Inquiry 8. 20 (Fall 2015): pp.1-16. Plethon, Gemisto, Traité des Lois, trad. A. Pélissier (Paris: Librairie de Firmin Didot Frères, 1858). Plotinus, The Enneads, trans. Stephen MacKenna (Harmondsworth: Penguin Books, 1991). Pound, Ezra, The Cantos (New York: New Directions, 1996). ———, Confucius (New York: New Directions, 1969). ———. Correspondence with Olga Rudge. 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work_lpyeymq45zavljkk6t5lupvide	----	Beyond Cultural History? The Material Turn, Praxiography, and Body History Humanities 2014, 3, 546–566; doi:10.3390/h3040546 humanities ISSN 2076-0787 www.mdpi.com/journal/humanities Article Beyond Cultural History? The Material Turn, Praxiography, and Body History Iris Clever and Willemijn Ruberg Department of History and Art History, Utrecht University, Drift 6, 3512 BS Utrecht, The Netherlands; E-Mails: irisclever@ucla.edu (I.C.); W.G.Ruberg@uu.nl (W.R.) External Editor: Victoria Thompson Received: 24 March 2014; in revised form: 27 August 2014 / Accepted: 16 September 2014 / Published: 9 October 2014 Abstract: The body came to be taken seriously as a topic of cultural history during the “corporeal” or “bodily” turn in the 1980s and 1990s. Soon, however, critique was raised against these studies’ conceptualization of the body as discursively shaped and socially disciplined: individual bodily agency and feeling were felt to be absent in the idea of the material body. This article critically analyzes new approaches in the field of body history, particularly the so-called “material turn”. It argues that the material turn, especially in the guise of praxiography, has a lot to offer historians of the body, such as more attention to material practices, to different kinds of actors and a more open eye to encounters. Potential problems of praxiographical analyses of the body in history include the complicated relationship between discourses and practices and the neglect of the political and feminist potential of deconstructive discourse analyses. However, a focus on the relationship between practices of knowledge production and the representation of the body may also provide new ways of opening up historical power relations. Keywords: body; gender; race; material turn; praxiography 1. Introduction In the 1980s and 1990s a “corporeal” or “bodily” turn took place in sociology and feminist philosophy. The body came to be taken seriously as object of study, resulting in studies on the history of obesity, anorexia, disability, menstruation, genitalia, beauty, sports, hygiene, the senses, the regulation of racial bodies and many more body-related topics [1–7]. In recent years, several multi-volume OPEN ACCESS Humanities 2014, 3 547 overviews of body history have been published [8–11]. The field of body history grew out of the history of medicine, gender and sexuality and was strongly influenced by the cultural turn. No longer considered a timeless biological entity, the body came to be seen as historically variable and shaped by culture, language and ideology. Especially, Michel Foucault’s and Judith Butler’s methodology of discursive constructionism found its way into historical studies of the body. Soon, however, critique was raised against these studies’ conceptualization of the body as discursively shaped and socially disciplined. This critique focused on the absence of individual bodily agency and of feeling in the notion of the material body and aimed to look beyond discursive constructionism, without reverting to older biologist concepts. The proposed answers differed widely: psychoanalysis, praxiography, neo-essentialism and other approaches were put forward [12]. In this article, we aim to critically analyze one of these new approaches in the field of body history, i.e., praxiography, which can be regarded as part of the so-called “material turn”, also named neo or new materialism. We explore what praxiography has to offer to historians of the body: It seems to pay more attention to material practices, to different kinds of actors and purports to have a more open eye to encounters (between bodies, objects, experts, and techniques). However, these new approaches also potentially contain a number of problems. Political critique, for instance, a feature that was strongly present in the cultural-historical approach of the body popular in the 1990s, at first sight seems to be absent. We hope to stimulate discussion on the advantages and disadvantages of the material turn’s key features amongst historians of the body. 2. The Bodily Turn in Cultural History Before sketching neo-materialist approaches to body history, we will first outline the rise of body history, with a particular emphasis on methodology and its accompanying problems. Although the body had not been completely absent in historical writing before the cultural turn, it was only on the wings of the latter that the corporeal came to be taken seriously as a field of study in the humanities, partly because the cultural turn diverged from a more traditional intellectual history, which privileged the mind over the body [13]. Before the cultural turn, in the first half of the twentieth century, historical sociologist Norbert Elias had devoted much attention to the disciplining of the body in early modern court cultures [14,15]. The Russian philosopher and literary critic Mikhail Bahktin put the material meanings of the body center stage in his analysis of the work of the French Renaissance writer François Rabelais [16,17]. In cultural anthropology, the body had always been a serious topic of interest, and especially the symbolical anthropology of Mary Douglas, which regarded bodily boundaries as representative of ideas concerning purity, would be very influential in the new histories of the body produced as part of the cultural and performative turn [18]. The work of Michel Foucault, particularly his book on modern punishment, in which he saw the modern body as an object of new forms of disciplinary power, yet also as productive of those new forms, has been seen as foundational to the bodily turn [19,20]. The first overview of this new branch of cultural history was presented by historian Roy Porter, who warned from the start that too much theorizing over the body would lead to anachronism. Advocating attention to empirical research, Porter also feared that too much attention was being paid to the disciplining of past bodies, and thus to Foucauldian approaches. In his 2001 revision of his 1991 Humanities 2014, 3 548 chapter, Porter noted “the domain in which writing about the history of the body has skyrocketed most stupendously: the theoretical dimension. Drawing on critical theory, postmodernism, post-Foucauldianism, and other ‘-isms’ embodying the linguistic turn, and also on feminist, gender, gay and lesbian philosophy, and much else besides, a challenging corpus of body theory now exists; yet it is one which is all too often historically dogmatic or deficient. The squaring of the empirical and the theoretical remains to be done.” ([21], p. 253). Porter exemplifies the aversion of historians to the use of theory and their need for empirical evidence. One historical sub-field less averse to theory is gender history. It is from this field that most of the histories of the body have grown. The most influential work on the gendered body in the past has been the book by Thomas Laqueur Making Sex: Body and Gender from the Greeks to Freud [1]. Using mostly images in medical textbooks as sources, Laqueur argued that bodily sex differences, which he termed the “two-sex model”, in which men and women had completely different genitalia and other body parts, were only perceived in the eighteenth century, when Enlightenment ideas on the equality of the sexes threatened male privilege. Laqueur’s book is generally regarded as an important application of social constructionism to the body (in distinction to the concept of gender, which was approached from this angle from the start). Laqueur underlined how making, but also simply seeing bodily gender differences depended on political and social aims. It is important to keep in mind how social constructionism of the body has always been particularly fertile in regard to gender. The influence of gender history on body history also received some critique from feminist historians. In an article first published in 1999, Kathleen Canning argued that “‘body’ remains a largely unexplicated and undertheorised historical concept” ([22], p. 499). Canning noted that the turn from women’s to gender history left the body tainted with essentialism, a blank slate upon which gender ideologies were written. Feminist historians were interested in deconstructing those ideologies, but not particularly in the body that was targeted by these ([22], p. 501). Canning saw the prominence of the discursive body in gender history, at the cost of the “body as experience”, yet also signaled studies in which bodies were excessively material and undertheorized. She also pointed out, however, that these symbolic bodies remained “immaterial/dematerialised” and indicated two explanations for the embrace of the discursive body: the work of Michel Foucault and a more practical reason, that is the availability of sources that chart the discursive construction of gendered bodies, and the lack of sources dealing with the body “as a site of experience, memory, or subjectivity”. Canning called for “locating bodies spatially, nationally, and as inscribed by ethnicity and race”, underlining the importance of empirical evidence and historical specificity ([22], pp. 501–04). The work of Michel Foucault and of gender theorist Judith Butler has indeed been very influential. Butler’s emphasis on cultural norms like the “heterosexual matrix”, which constitute (gendered) bodies discursively, has mostly been applied to the deconstruction of these norms, and the extent of agency this leaves us with has been heavily debated [23,24]. Although this notion of the discursive construction of the body has been used by many historians, it has to be kept in mind that several historians did attempt to reconstruct corporeal experiences in the past. Best known among these is the German historian Barbara Duden, whose The Woman beneath the Skin. A Doctor’s Patients in Eighteenth-Century Germany (originally published as Geschichte unter der Haut: Ein Eisenacher Arzt und seine Patientinnen um 1730 in 1987) placed eighteenth-century female patients’ experience of their own bodies centre stage [25]. Duden described a world in which the body, which was thought to Humanities 2014, 3 549 contain continuous motions or a “flux”, was not considered as an object clearly separated from its environment. These eighteenth-century German women and their doctor used a language completely different from the discourse framing the modern body as an isolated object of medical examination. Conspicuously, rare studies into historical corporeal understanding, like Duden’s, were nearly always medical histories, based on egodocuments like letters, from which some personal experience, however entwined in cultural discourses, could be retrieved [26]. Nevertheless, these studies remained exceptions, the majority of body historiography being devoted to deconstructing medical discourse. To theorize the body as site of experience, some historians resorted to psychoanalytical approaches. Lyndal Roper described an “economy of bodily fluids” in early modern witchcraft beliefs, which regarded old women as sucking on the bodily fluids of others. Roper, using psychoanalytic categories, argued that young mothers projected their own confusing emotions onto older lying-in maids, whom they accused of witchcraft. These emotions were highly sensitive to the manipulation of the body [27]. Other historians were influenced by feminist philosophers who tried to find new ways of perceiving the body, like Moira Gatens’ notion of the “imaginary body”, which stressed the psychical significance of various zones of the body, while trying to bridge the gulf between discursive and material bodies [28]. Elizabeth Grosz, as well, started from psychoanalytical notions while formulating her notion of “corporeal feminism”. Grosz claimed that the body can never be fully disciplined or described by discourse and underlined the agency of the body in her notion of “counter-strategic reinscription” ([29], p. 64). Grosz, like feminist Iris Marion-Young, built upon phenomenology in accounting for women’s experiences. From this perspective, body, self and world become entangled in situated, corporeal experiences. Phenomenological approaches thus already highlighted the material aspect of bodily experience and the difficulty of separating notions of “the natural” and “the social” [22,30–32]. Similarly, the experiential and social aspects of the body were emphasized by Leslie Adelson’s notion of embodiment, who defined it as a process “of making and doing the work of bodies—of becoming a body in social space.” ([22], p. 504). In short, the body as a site of experience was emphasized by psychoanalytic and phenomenological approaches, including attention to the material and social aspects of the body, as well as agency and resistance. These approaches, however, were not applied very often by historians. Although body history has become an accepted part of the field of social and cultural history, historians still seem to be struggling with some of the methodological and theoretical problems that surfaced in the 1990s. For example, Ivan Crozier, in his 2010 introduction to the sixth volume of A Cultural History of the Human Body, on the body in the modern age, leans on the theoretical approaches of Foucault and Butler uncritically. He also makes use of Julia Kristeva’s term “abjection” and Mary Douglas’ “matter out of place”. For Crozier, the discursive constructionist approach is less of a problem than for other historians and he combines it with insights from anthropology and psychoanalysis. In addition, he couples a general plea for a socio-historical embeddedness to a seemingly self-evident, yet often neglected, attention to an always changeable body. Defining bodies as “performed social institutions”, whose agency is constrained by “various techniques of training, practice, and sanctioning”, Crozier proposes to study bodies in action and in a socio-cultural and historical context, while at the same time mediated through a variety of discourses and arrangements of power [33]. Crozier also points to the “underdetermined character of the corporeal”, the idea that the Humanities 2014, 3 550 same body changes according to locale: “the body is not used the same way when it is sick, during sex, as it ages, for pleasure, for work, for sport, or when it is represented.” ([33], pp. 21–22). Thus, the problem of a one-sided emphasis on discursive construction and discipline, neglecting individual experience and agency, does not surface in Crozier’s account. However, a call for a more open-ended view of the changeable body, including more attention to historically changing places, echoes Canning’s plea for more historical specificity ([22], p. 504). In a second recent overview of “the somatic turn”, Roger Cooter is more critical of the “the representational approach”, locating the problem in several scholars’ acceptance of the body “only as a representation”. One important new direction in the history of the body Cooter signals is a return to biological essentialism, influenced by neuroscience and the cognitive turn [34]. Importantly, Cooter notes the relevance of what he terms the “new breed of essentialisms” to the history of the body. However, he seems to regard these only as a threat to a balanced history of the body, not as productive methodologies. Moreover, as we will show below, some important new approaches, like the practice turn and praxiography, cannot be grouped so easily under the heading of “essentialism”. To conclude, in the past 20 years, social and discursive constructionist approaches to the body have been very influential, but have also come under attack, due to their presumed lack of attention to individual corporeal experience, which is often taken to mean a neglect of agency. For historians, this critique is paired to a call for using more empirical sources. Psychoanalytical and phenomenological approaches that do underline bodily experience have had little impact on history writing. On the one hand, a historical picture of the material body is called for (including historical locality and changeability), on the other hand “essentialism”, implying a return to a biological, non-historically specific body, is feared. In the remainder of this article, we explore what the application of praxiography to body history implies for these questions in regard to the material, experiencing body as stated in historical sources. 3. The Material Turn 3.1. Neo-Essentialism and New Materialism Some of the approaches that look beyond the discursively constituted body can be grouped under the header “material turn” as they centre on giving more prominence to matter or materiality in research. Both neo-essentialism and new materialism, which we will discuss in this paragraph, focus on rethinking the relationship between nature and culture as a means to overcome the binary opposition between social constructivism and essentialism or realism. One important new direction in the history of the body is a return to biological essentialism, influenced by neuroscience. One of the “new breed of essentialisms” is “neo-essentialism” or the “corporeal critique”, a term coined by historian Dror Wahrman. In discussing narratives of change versus continuity in the cultural history of gender, sex, and sexuality, Wahrman brings up the issue of corporeality in cultural histories of the body. Because cultural history is built on the assumption that everything, including the body, is shaped by culture, the idea that the body might be outside the influence of culture makes cultural historians nervous. These historians argue that explorations into the materiality of the body in history might end up essentializing the body, making it impervious to Humanities 2014, 3 551 historical change, which is politically and intellectually undesirable for a field that deconstructs seemingly natural concepts. However, Wahrman suggests historians should be more open to the idea that historical phenomena have some biological basis. As Wahrman explains: “this critique would push the historian to explore where the culturally constructed ends and the ahistorical and extra-cultural begins; and thus, more importantly, how they relate to each other. Unlike unreflective essentialism that presupposes that certain aspects of the human condition necessarily lie outside history and culture, and unlike unreflective constructivism that presupposes that no aspect of the human condition lies outside history and culture, the self-reflexive preoccupation of the ‘corporealist’ (or the ‘neo-essentialist’) is the un-predetermined boundary between the two.” ([35], p. 599). Importantly, Wahrman claims that an essentialist or corporeal perspective on the body in history is not necessarily ahistorical. Indeed, it can even be used to explain historical change. Here, Wahrman mentions Daniel Lord Smail’s On Deep History and the Brain [36], which experiments with using the brain as an historical source to analyze how culture and biology interacted over long periods of time. Through a neurohistorical analysis, Smail argues that, over time, humans became more sensitive to mood-altering cultural practices, ranging from gossip to shopping and coffee and tea. Most importantly, he signals an explosion in mood-altering substances in the eighteenth century, which created a distinctly new regime of brain–body chemistry. As such, “an awareness of neurochemistry can help us look at the past three hundred years in a wholly different light” ([36], p. 185). According to Smail, these substances have played a crucial role in the Western history of modernity, and thus Smail’s neurohistory provides a new narrative of modernity and historical change in the eighteenth century. Smail analyzes the interaction between biology and culture by showing how cultural and biological changes are related and thus successfully incorporates the material body in a historical study. Yet there are reasons to be critical of neo-essentialism. Smail demonstrates how the body alters through new cultural practices and describes change as being undirected and unintentional—thus placing agency in the encounter between cultural traits and bodies—but concludes that his neurohistory provides a new explanation of modernity. Combined with his generalizing account of human bodies—apart from class there is little room for difference based on gender, ethnicity, age etc. or the individual experience of the body in Smail’s grand narrative, which ends up stressing “the universality of basic human physiology” ([36], p. 188)—Smail’s conclusion about a singular body and change hints at biological determinism and essentialism which might make this approach unattractive to body historians critical of just these things. However, analyzing the relationship between nature and culture as a way of addressing the materiality of the body might be more fruitful for historians in light of a different trend in the humanities, called new or neo-materialism. Several scholars from different backgrounds have sought to think through the problems of the linguistic turn by questioning modern dualistic thinking. Arguing that postmodernism has continued to prefer “mind over matter, soul over body, and culture over nature” ([37], p. 119) scholars such as Rosi Braidotti, Karen Barad, Bruno Latour, and Donna Haraway have sought ways of overcoming Cartesian dualism all together. Although we should not consider it one stream of thought, new materialism questions the distinction between entities and It is argued that body and mind can only be understood in relation to each other, during events in which realities are temporarily produced or enacted. Instead of assuming (hierarchical) differences between entities Humanities 2014, 3 552 beforehand, new materialists study the performance of differences in these ever-changing, shifting realities. This directs the focus to encounters, practices, and moments where matter and culture are acting together, producing meaning or a reality in that moment. In this way, matter becomes an important actor in the analysis of practices [37,38]. In this respect, neo-essentialism becomes problematic for another reason: it continues to reimpose the nature-culture divide on historical narratives by seeing the body, nature, or culture as separate, singular entities. Smail argues that nature and culture change in relation to each other, but in their relation one is consecutive of the other, which keeps the binary opposition in place. By focusing on action in practices between different actors, new materialism on the other hand pays more attention to the heterogeneity of practices and actors. Furthermore, it tries to think through realism and social constructivism: “both scientific realists and social constructivists believe that scientific knowledge (in its multiple representational forms such as theoretical concepts, graphs, particle tracks, photographic images) mediates our access to the material world; where they differ is on the question of referent, whether scientific knowledge represents things in the world as they really are (i.e., “Nature”) or “objects” that are the product of social activities (i.e., “Culture”), but both groups subscribe to representationalism” ([38], pp. 805–06). Critical of this divide, new materialists have a more monist approach: “It is precisely the commonalities of realism and social constructivism that are being recognized, though shifted” ([37], p. 98). Thus, new materialism presents a different philosophy for the humanities, one that pays attention to matter, movement, and difference. New materialism’s focus on the performance of differences in practice seems more attractive to the project of body history than demonstrating human commonality in larger trends of nature-culture interactions. Can body historians use these insights for writing novel histories of the body in which its materiality is taken more seriously by analyzing practices instead of representations? Is the philosophical discussion on overcoming the opposition between nature and culture useful for rethinking body history’s issue of essentialism versus social constructionism? We recognize that the term “new materialism” might mask the heterogeneity of the scholars grouped under that heading and we do not wish to offer an exhaustive account of the different approaches here. Instead, in the remainder of this article, we have chosen to elaborate on one method that we consider to be part of the material turn in the humanities: Annemarie Mol’s praxiography. Mol also questions the distinction between nature and culture by claiming that “we practice reality” ([39], p. 52) and applies this perspective onto the body in medical practice. To what extent is praxiography useful for historians to get around the opposition between social constructionism and essentialism in body history? Below, we will discuss praxiography and offer two examples of its application to body history. 3.2. Praxiography Since the 1970s, historians and sociologists of science have developed new ways to study the production of knowledge in practice. Arguing that scientific knowledge is not independent from the practices in which it is produced, scholars have investigated how knowledge is embedded in local settings of time and place and have stressed the influence of different actors, techniques, and materials on knowledge production [40–42]. Recently, a more radical approach to knowledge in practice has Humanities 2014, 3 553 been developed by sociologist John Law and anthropologists Marianne de Laet and Annemarie Mol, building on “actor-network theory” approaches (ANT) developed by sociologists such as Bruno Latour [43,44]. They point out the limitations of representationalism and analyze knowledge production by studying the practices of its production. Law, de Laet, and Mol have demonstrated the instability of knowledge-objects by arguing that there is not a single object in practice, but that every practice produces its own variant of the object. Annemarie Mol has provided a methodology to analyze this instability of knowledge in relation to the body. Her approach has gained attention in disciplines such as sociology, political science, gender studies, and anthropology [45–48] but has rarely been applied to history, except by historian Geertje Mak, whose work we will discuss below. In The Body Multiple: Ontology in Medical Practice [49], Annemarie Mol presents her method “praxiography” in a study on atherosclerosis. Two aspects of praxiography seem especially interesting for body historians. First, rather than studying “knowledge articulated in words and images and printed on paper” ([49], p. 31), Mol examines body practices in which knowledge of the body is “incorporated”. Second, instead of assuming the singularity and force of medical discourse, she stresses the instability of the body in practice through a focus on associations and networks that “hang together”. The praxiographic perspective shifts our attention to material practices, different kinds of actors, and encounters, thus potentially being an effective methodology for the cultural history of the body. In her 2002 study, Mol argues that “the body” becomes multiple in medical practice. Through participant observation, she analyzes the different contextual manifestations of the disease atherosclerosis in hospital environments. She posits two important claims in this study. First, the disease is enacted differently in every practice due to different techniques, materials, actors, and sites. For instance, atherosclerosis under the microscope, studied by a pathology resident, is different from atherosclerosis in the outpatient clinic, discussed between a surgeon and a patient. Thus, each practice generates its own version or material reality of the disease. These different enactments do not necessarily align: they can be contradictory. The multiplicity and complexity of the disease in practice raises the question how there can be a single understanding of atherosclerosis in the hospital, and consequently how knowledge of the body can still be successful in science. Here, Mol presents her second claim: the multiplicity of the enactments is managed in practice. The contradictions between enactments are often ignored or organized in a way that creates a “virtual common object”: the enactments form no natural unity, but are related to each other and “hang together” ([49], p. 5). Through management practices and the commitment to what Mol calls “ontological singularity,” there can exist a single, shared understanding of the disease, although several manifestations of the disease exist in practice. The challenge, then, is to empirically trace the different enactments and management practices, in order to analyze how knowledge of the body is produced in practice and becomes successful scientific knowledge. This approach aligns with newer developments in the history of science, which center on synthesizing local studies to show how fragmented knowledge becomes powerful [50–53]. So what does this approach offer historians of the body? Most importantly, it might help us rethink the binary opposition between essentialism and social constructionism. First, praxiography moves beyond interpretations of the body to the actions of physical bodies in practice. Mol explains the issue of addressing the body as a representation: “by entering the realm of meaning, the body’s physical Humanities 2014, 3 554 reality is still left out” ([49], p. 11). Thus, a historical study of the enactments of the body in practice can bring into focus a physical body that responded to techniques, materials, actors, and sites. Moreover, praxiography demands attention for the agency of all actors involved in body (knowledge) practices, and requires scholars to seriously analyze the actions of the “objects of knowledge”—in Mol’s study the patients. Thus, bodies, objects, and techniques are no longer treated as silent objects but as important actors during encounters. In this way, praxiography might offer historians of the body an interesting method to study the physical body as an actor in history, by analyzing the “actions” of bodies, techniques, materials, and sites in practice instead of historical representations. However, cultural historians have feared the move away from representations because of the potential essentialization of the historical body. Yet Mol’s multiple enactments highlight the instability and changeability of the biological body in practice, which she calls “ontological multiplicity” ([49], p. 164). This implies we do not need to assume the body to be a stable entity, but instead Mol invites us to analyze its presence and enactments in different historical encounters, and how those enactments have been brought together to give the illusion of a stable body. This might be thought of as a move to rethink the relationship between social constructionism and essentialism: we can historicize the body through the enactments of its physicality and stability in social encounters. This moves beyond the notion of the body as either a stable entity that exists outside of encounters or merely as the discursive product of those encounters. In The Body Multiple, Mol states that she does not “go with the textbook versions of medical knowledge, but analyze[s], instead, what happens in medical practice.” ([49], p. 47). As we will further discuss below, body historians cannot as easily perform participant observation and use written or printed textbook knowledge to access historical knowledge, both for theories of the body and practices of its production. However, praxiography brings the complicated relationship between theories of the body and practices of knowledge production to the fore. Mol’s approach to multiplicity in practice and the management of a “virtual common object” provides historians tools for understanding the relationship between theory and practice, of which our knowledge remains very limited ([54], p. 56). 4. The Application of Praxiography to Body History: Geertje Mak’s Doubting Sex In the remainder of this article, we will discuss two examples of the application of praxiography to body history. The first is a recent book by Dutch historian Geertje Mak, Doubting Sex: Inscriptions, Bodies and Selves in Nineteenth-Century Hermaphrodite Case Histories [55], based on sources like the description of over 1200 mostly German and French hermaphrodite case studies collected by the Polish doctor Franz Ludwig von Neugebauer in Hermaphroditismus beim Menschen (1908) and also autobiographies like that of the famous hermaphrodite Herculine Barbin. Mak applies Annemarie Mol’s praxiographic approach to demonstrate that hermaphroditism was enacted multiply in the nineteenth century. She therefore uses a verb: doubting sex. Sex could be doubted in many circumstances and places, by many different kinds of actors and could be about numerous objects and body parts. By looking at doubting sex in practice, Mak tries to avoid classifying cases according to current medical classifications and to follow contemporaries’ practices, thereby historicizing notions of physical sex, the sex of the self, and the social and legal order of sex. So, for Mak, the praxiographic approach has helped her historicize the different ways in which sex and doubting sex were enacted in Humanities 2014, 3 555 medical practices. Because many new medical techniques and routines had been introduced in the twentieth century, the ways in which sex could be doubted medically had multiplied dramatically. With the help of new techniques, medical experts were now able to discern hermaphroditism whereas before, lay people had been the only ones to experience this bodily condition ([55], pp. 6–7). Mak’s archeology of “sex” leads her to identify three implicit rationales. First, until circa 1870 sex was considered to be a moral and social position, not an inner identity. Clothing, profession and looks determined the way sex was interpreted in public. In villages, people with an ambivalent bodily sex were often accepted, since they were a familiar part of the community. Only in problematic cases, a physical examination of the genitals was performed. In this second rationale, sex was derived from the body. In the first half of the nineteenth century, physicians examined the appearance and the genitalia of the hermaphrodite and listened to their description of the functioning of these organs. Physical lust and the ability to procreate were important criteria to determine bodily sex. In the second half of the nineteenth century, doctors’ diagnoses started to take place in clinics. From the end of the nineteenth century, operations became easier to perform, mostly because of the invention of anesthesia. Gonadal tissue could now be examined under the microscope. During operations, doctors increasingly discovered cases of hermaphroditism by accident. The person of the hermaphrodite was thus disconnected from his/her body. These developments in technology led to a third rationale, according to Mak: the idea that “true” sex was a mirror of an inner self. Determining sex became more complicated, leading to the question: Who had the power to decide: doctor or patient? In order to evaluate Mak’s application of Mol’s praxiographic method to body history, we focus on three elements: the relationship between discourse and practice; the deconstructive and political role of discourse analysis in body history; and the role of the individual, feeling body. To start with the first, it is clear that historians will experience a difficulty when executing a praxiographic analysis like Annemarie Mol’s or an ANT approach like Latour’s, simply because both Mol and Latour perform participant observation and are able to analyze practices in action. Obviously, historians have to resort to written sources describing techniques, historical discourse therefore mediating between the observer and the techniques handled in practice. Mak herself raises the question whether nineteenth-century case histories are not primarily texts and thus deserve a discourse analysis. Her answer is that she has deliberately decided to read certain parts of her sources referentially, not focusing on the use of metaphors, style or narrative structures, but on the reported practicalities and techniques of physical examinations and the type of sex resulting from them. At the same time, however, “labelling, naming, verbalizing bodily features and functions, structuring case histories, and narrating life stories are part of the practices involved […] And when it comes to the way physicians explained or justified their course of action or built up their case history, discursive or narratological-analytic tools were certainly employed.” ([55], pp. 9–10). The latter is the case, for instance, in Mak’s analysis of autobiographical writing by hermaphrodites. Clearly, then, Mak does not completely distance herself from discourse analysis. Importantly, Mak underlines the discursive approach followed by Laqueur and Butler: “Bodies indeed cannot gain significance outside discourse. That does not mean that bodies can be reduced to discourse. […] bodies may gain meaning through existing discourse, but they cannot be ‘read’ just like that. There are a lot of materialities, technicalities and practicalities involved in ‘reading’ bodies, or in making words, numbers, measures and meanings out of bodies.” ([55], p. 8). Mak therefore argues that bodies can Humanities 2014, 3 556 only be read through discourses and material practices like “[r]outines, rules, money, institutions, instruments, skills, techniques, knowledge, disciplines, habits—these are all involved in enacting a body before it even can be read, and all have their own history.” ([55], p. 92). Mak thus combines discourse analysis with praxiography. This raises the question, however, of the relationship between discourses and practices. Although the distinction between discourses and practices might be somewhat artificial, many historians still refer to these concepts as separate [56]. Mak seems to suggest that practices come before discourses, which would contradict Butler’s idea of performativity, which presumes discourses exist as scripts before enactment, yet at the same time come into being during enactment. Also note that Mak here, contrary to what she is claiming, seems to take a slightly different approach than Mol, who avoids the word “discourse” and the relationship between discourse and practice altogether. An example of the unclear relationship between discourse and practice is Mak’s claim that contrary to physicians treating homosexuals, doctors examining hermaphrodites did not have the techniques to study the sex of the self. Mak traces this to the influential gay subcultures, propagating an inner, individual identity, and thus stimulating medical research into sexual identity, whereas these powerful subcultures were missing in the case of hermaphrodites ([55], p. 204). Here, Mak assumes a causal relationship between powerful discourses (subcultures) and (medical) practices. To summarize, Mak does not follow a radical praxiographic analysis, but combines it with a discourse analysis. The exact relationship between practices and discourses, however, remains somewhat unclear. The second element of Mak’s application of praxiography to body history we want to highlight is the role of deconstruction, and more particularly the political, often feminist, intention behind much deconstructive discourse analysis in body history. Mak in her book extends the approach of historian Alice Domurat Dreger, who focused solely on disciplinary medical opinion and ideas. Those scientific discourses failed to take hermaphrodites’ own feelings into account, a practice condemned by Dreger ([55], pp. 4–5, 159). Mak stresses that looking at medical techniques reveals that in practice both heterosexuality and sex could have different, sometimes contradictory meanings, thus eroding the idea of one overall normative medical discourse. One might argue that a praxiographic approach in this case thus dovetails with a less critical (i.e., less aimed at deconstruction) approach to disciplining medical discourse in regard to sex and gender. On the other hand, a focus on more complicated practices might not necessarily lead to that conclusion. Rather, Mak states: “A call for the hermaphrodite’s sovereign right to ‘choose’ her or his own sex (like Dreger does, IC and WR) covers up these less obvious disciplinary mechanisms of power by suggesting there is a free, true self ‘out there’ which is the victim of suppression” ([55], p. 160). Still, this shifting of the attention from a critique on medical disciplinary discourse onto the category of agency Dreger uses diverts from the question of critique on the way hermaphrodites in the past may have been discriminated. A better way to underline the political potential of praxiography, which so far has not been fully explored by its proponents in our opinion, is to point to its capacity to show “difference” in all its facets: both hermaphroditism and, more generally, the body can be enacted in many different ways, thus opening up space for differences ([39], pp. 54, 57). To conclude, Mak’s innovative application of praxiography to body history is fruitful in many respects: she shows how a focus on medical techniques and practices reveals the multiple enactments of hermaphroditism, sex, and gender in the nineteenth century and historicizes these meanings by Humanities 2014, 3 557 following contemporaries’ practices, rather than current medical classifications. At the same time, it is clear that Mak cannot do without a discourse analysis and she successfully combines both. However, this particular application of praxiography to body history also raises new problems. It highlights the relationship between practices and discourses and at first sight seems to water down feminist critique that was paramount in deconstructive discourse analysis in relation to gender, sexuality and the body. A closer look, however, might reveal praxiography’s new ways to argue for difference. Last, we might ask whether the lived, experienced body of the hermaphrodite comes to the fore in this history. As Mak herself states, she is more interested in problematizing the category of “experience”, as proposed by historian Joan Scott ([55], p. 13). In the end, therefore, Mak’s book is as much historical epistemology as praxiographic history. 5. The Application of Praxiography to Body History: Producing Racial Knowledge in Physical Anthropology The second example of the application of praxiography to body history deploys Mol’s method to analyze the production of racial knowledge in nineteenth and twentieth-century physical anthropological practices. A small number of scholars in the field of colonial history have recently begun to analyze practices rather than theories of race as a way to criticize the often too simplistic, dichotomous image of colonial life as it has been abundantly portrayed in postcolonial historiography. These studies aim to demonstrate that the European-native relationship and the production of colonial knowledge were far more complex in practice than postcolonial historians have assumed. For instance, colonial historians Ricardo Roque and Kim Wagner have recently drawn attention to the indigenous involvement, multiple encounters, and materiality in the production of colonial knowledge [57]. To what extent is praxiography a promising method of analysis for this novel “practice turn” in the historiography of race and colonial knowledge? Is it possible to direct our attention to the multiple actors, not just the scientists but also the “object of research”, to indigenous involvement? Finally, does it pay due attention to the material aspect of racial research? We can illustrate this by the results of an investigation of Dutch colonial knowledge production that has been carried by one of the authors, Iris Clever. Applying praxiography, it focuses on the work of Dutch physical anthropologist G.A.J. van der Sande [58]. In 1903, a Dutch state-funded expedition set sail for the Dutch colony of New Guinea. The “North New Guinea Expedition” was part of a series of Dutch expeditions to the colony that aimed to map the area and gain knowledge of its inhabitants to establish control over the territory. This particular expedition was sponsored by the Dutch state to explore the partially unknown northern coastline and find exploitable layers of coal. During six months, the group explored the northern coast, and spent time in Humboldt Bay, Lake Sentáni and the Geelvink Bay. After the expedition, most members contributed to a comprehensive study of the expedition and its scientific results. Van der Sande wrote the third part of this collection Nova Guinea [59], which he elaborately discussed the ethnographical and anthropological characteristics of the inhabitants of New Guinea, classified as being of Papuan stock. Following the recent practice turn in colonial history and the history of science practice approach, colonial texts like Nova Guinea III can be understood as the result of the practical process of its production. A discourse analysis of the book would not suffice to understand van der Sande’s Humanities 2014, 3 558 classification of Papuan race: the representation of Papuan race in Nova Guinea III is messy. There is no clear demarcation or classification of the race under examination: van der Sande fails to stamp the population with a coherent identity. Furthermore, his text does not evidence a vitriolic racial discourse on inferiority and therefore it remains unclear to what extent van der Sande was guided by the nineteenth and twentieth-century tradition of scientific racism [60]. With a praxiographic approach, we can study the process by which van der Sande produced complex and messy knowledge about Papuan race. By tracing the different enactments of Papuan race in different practices, this analysis tries to recognize indigenous involvement and the impact of material practices on knowledge production, along with the complexity and instability of the concept of “race”. Furthermore, it provides a means to analyze how complexity in practice is made into a more or less simplified—yet messy—racial classification for the publication Nova Guinea III through the use of Mol’s concept of a “virtual common object”. The different practices can be located in two ways. First, by reading Nova Guinea III along and against the grain [57,61] to find observation and examination practices used to produce anthropometric information, and to identify what can be called calculation practices, used to convert anthropometric information into tables. Second, by analyzing personal documents such as Lorentz’s published journal on the expedition and a correspondence between van der Sande and Lorentz between 1905 and 1909, which provide crucial information on anthropological materials and techniques and the interaction between natives and the expedition group. As we will see below, this resulted in a combination of the praxiographic method with discourse analysis. By mapping these practices and the different enactments of race, we can better understand how racial knowledge was produced, from the first encounters with Papuans to the writing of Nova Guinea III. 5.1. Indigenous Involvement Through close reading of the available sources of the expedition, it is possible to get a glimpse of the words, actions, and visions of the indigenous population of New Guinea. However scant, an impression of the contact between expedition members and the natives can be given, as well as the indigenous role in the production of knowledge. Before indigenous people could be measured for anthropological purposes, the expedition team first needed to gain access to their villages. Apparently, this was not easy. In a letter dated February 6, 1907, van der Sande mentions that the inhabitants of some of the villages were “unprepared” for the arrival of the expedition team, which acted as an “outright hindrance” to any form of ethnographic of anthropological work [62]. The fact that the contact with inhabitants was essential to gaining access to villages shows that the scientists had to negotiate and that natives controlled boundaries and could refuse access. Sometimes they simply left their villages. In the diary of H.A. Lorentz, it is mentioned that the expedition members often made drum sounds to make villagers aware of their impending arrival and their peaceful intentions. The team was frequently taken into the villages, but in some cases encountered completely deserted towns, because the people had taken off after hearing the drum sounds ([63], p.72). In other places, whole villages turned out, with traders, interpreters, and children coming out to the beaches to meet the expedition team. From Lorentz’s travel journal it becomes clear that trading was one of the main activities of the expedition: nearly everywhere they went, the Humanities 2014, 3 559 expedition members traded blades, knives, mirrors, beads, tobacco, shells, and pieces of cotton for all sorts of ethnographic objects or just for “friendship” in general. In some cases, the scientists had to negotiate intensively for these objects ([63], pp. 55, 84; [64]). This shows that, to a certain extent, the people knew what the expedition members wanted, what they found valuable, and what they were willing to give for objects that in some cases had little value to Papuans. This brief analysis of the encounters between expedition members and natives shows that the production of knowledge depended on the willingness of the people of New Guinea to provide the scientists access to their villages, which in turn is crucial for van der Sande’s examination of customs and bodies, i.e., for producing ethnographic and anthropological knowledge. It suggests indigenous involvement and challenges the common assumption that scientists were the main or even sole actors in that process. This claim is further strengthened by the fact that native informants and guides also played a pivotal role during the expedition ([64], p. 173). In sum, the quantity and quality of information the expedition members received seemed to depend on their relationship with the inhabitants of New Guinea, as they had the possibility to set boundaries and control access. By calling attention to the agency for all actors involved in practices, praxiography reminds us to look at the individual embodied encounters between “objects of knowledge” and “subjects of knowledge” in the production of body knowledge in practice, thus shedding light on indigenous involvement and experiences. 5.2. Complex Data, Simplified Classification After gaining access to villages, van der Sande searched for natives who permitted him to measure their bodies. He would fill the measurements into standardized anthropological forms, and used this information about “the Papuan body” to compare this group of people to other populations around the world. As such, he hoped to racially classify “the Papuan” to gain an understanding of human variety and racial dispersion ([62], 22 February 1906 and 24 November 1906). Van der Sande’s anthropological measurements produced a large amount of body data. By focusing on the different enactments of race, resulting from different materials, techniques, actors, and sites, it becomes possible to sketch how van der Sande, in measuring bodies, produced messy, complex, and contradictory information about Papuan race. In the examination of one person, van der Sande measured many different “sites” of the body: skin color, nails, hair, teeth, arm span, skull size, jaw, body length, eyes, face, weight, fingers, hands, feet, and toes. All these different body sites required specific techniques and materials. Following praxiography, we can argue that these body sites produce a specific enactment of race in their interaction with techniques and materials of racial research. Van der Sande illustrated this modus operandi in discussing skull measurements in one of the letters. He complained that some anthropologists measured the length of the skull from the chin to the crown, while others took the length of the chin to the top of the skull. These different techniques produced different results, which, according to van der Sande, were incompatible and unsuitable for racial classification and comparison ([62], 11 June 1909). The enactment of race further multiplied when some body parts were measured for different goals with different techniques. For example, teeth were examined for their size and the extent to which they were cutting. In the size of the teeth van der Sande found the distinct “Papuan” Humanities 2014, 3 560 character of megadontism ([59], p. 341), while measuring teething might have led to supporting a different racial classification. Thus, these multi-varied body sites with their own techniques of analysis produced different enactments of race which could be used to support different racial classifications. Furthermore, variable scientific practices produced large amounts of complex and contradictory anthropological information and data, and as can be determined from the letters, this was a problem that was recognized and discussed by anthropologists. As such, a focus on techniques, materials, and sites demonstrates not only the difficulty of studying Papuan race in practice, but suggests the complexity and fragmentation of the Western notion of Papuan race itself. Although the anthropological data was fragmented and messy in practice, van der Sande strove in Nova Guinea III “to connect the ethnographical and anthropological results obtained by the Expedition, with what has already been written by others about New Guinea”. ([59], preface). He did so by comparing his results of measurement to other studies, by combining all sorts of statistical information in tables and graphs, and by comparing them to each other and other races around the world. This means that van der Sande had to deploy modes of coherence to bring the data together and work towards a racial classification of the Papuan race. Inevitably, these techniques of coherence were characterized by ignoring or erasing possible contradictions between different enactments of race. Van der Sande deployed three ordering techniques: by relating enactments to the “body”, “geography” and “population”. The first step in bringing the different enactments together was by filling the different measurements of one body into a single anthropological form. The different measurements of body sites became relevant in relation to each other: they said something about the race of a single body. In this way, possible contradictions between differing measurements and enactments were erased. In the second step Van der Sande combined the different measurements of different body parts. Through calculations, he produced statistics, such as medians, maximums, and minimums. Next, he attached these numbers to specific geographical clusters, such as “Lake Sentáni” or “Humboldt Bay”. These clusters were combined in tables, which for instance compared the height, weight, and head measurements of these different geographical groups. Then, van der Sande further zoomed out and compared the Papuans of his study to Papuans of other studies, by including their statistics in the tables. This continued through the comparison of “the Papuan” in general to other geographical clusters, such as Melanesians, Africans, and Europeans. Thus, these geographical sites were produced for the sole purpose of comparing them to other geographical sites. These comparisons between geographical clusters of different sizes were combined in the practice of writing the chapter “Anthropology” for Nova Guinea III. Here van der Sande deployed another ordering strategy to make sense of the anthropological data. We have seen that race was enacted in relation to body sites, geographical clusters, and the entire “Papuan” population. These three logics—of the body, of geography, and of population—came together in the practice of writing the book: not only did they depend on each other in the process of zooming out and ordering information, they were combined into single paragraphs or even sentences. For instance, body sites and geographical clusters were linked to ethnographical characteristics. Thus, by letting biological sites refer to other sites, van der Sande made biological enactments of race say something about other enactments, for instance ethnographical enactments. As such, the referral of sites to each other enabled van der Sande to make Humanities 2014, 3 561 essentialist claims about “Papuan” race. This suggests that he was trying to find Papuan essences and in order to do so he wanted to present the multiple enactments as a unity or a racial core in his book. By erasing differences, and by combining the logics of the body, geography, and population in terms of referral, van der Sande aimed at presenting Papuan race as a unified object. However, this unity was imaginary, and pieced together. The referral of different sites to each other gives us a glimpse of these imaginary connections. The racial unity is, to use Mol’s term, a “virtual common object”. This explains the messy representation of “Papuan race” in the book: the complexity measuring, defining and categorizing race in practice dominates. Thus, by zooming out using the “ethnographic microscope” ([49], p. 50), from individual body sites of measurement, to anthropological forms, geographical groups, and the “Papuan” as the subject of Nova Guinea III, we can analyze the ordering strategies which brought different enactments of race together into single numbers, characteristics, and essences. This praxiographic analysis thus provides insight into the attempts to turn the complexity of body analysis in practice into more simplified theories of the body. This case study does not want to suggest that these ordering strategies are chronologically separate phases, as Johannes Fabian has rightly argued ([65], p. 198), but wishes to map them and see how their relations can be understood. This case study analyzed race in light of Mol’s praxiography. It does not aim to provide a comprehensive overview of the literature on the history of New Guinea, Papuan race, or scientific racism, nor provide an extensive analysis of van der Sande’s anthropological work or the expedition. It is presented here to show what praxiography can reveal or might do in light of these types of histories. Like Mak, this case study has taken a different approach to textual sources and tried to pull out the practicalities of producing racial knowledge. It aimed to demonstrate how van der Sande attempted to produce a coherent object “Papuan race”, thus studying those practicalities in relation to the discursive process of categorizing the people of New Guinea. By examining the relationship between practice and discourse in this particular case, this example also shows that medical discourse came into being in complex and messy practices. Van der Sande’s “Papuan race” is not a self-evident, coherent object but enacted and temporarily tied together through and across different practices. Similar to Mak, this case study questions the singularity and force of medical discourse. Above, the question was raised to what extent praxiography could reveal the material aspect of racial research. This example from Dutch anthropology might historicize the Western notion of “Papuan race” as a “virtual common object”, stressing its instability by demonstrating modes of fragmentation and unification. Here, the materiality of the body is addressed by discussing techniques, materials, sites, and actors that were active in the enactment of the category “Papuan race”. It also shows that a lot more can be done. By zooming in on specific body parts in practice and by studying the techniques and materials of the observation, measurement, and analysis of the body in detail, historians could reveal a far more material body than that has been presented here. Secondly, we asked if praxiography could help body historians zoom in on indigenous involvement and experience. By searching the available publications and egodocuments for hints and clues, this study tried to provide an overview. Yet, this remained a form of discourse analysis, combined with the study of practices. As a method of analyzing practices, praxiography makes multiple actors visible but does not necessarily reveal the feeling, experiencing body. Thus, praxiography mainly ends up being a reminder to take all human and non-human actors in knowledge producing practices into consideration. Humanities 2014, 3 562 We still need to study how the relationship between human and non-human actors can be demonstrated in histories where some of those actors are mostly muted in the source material. We could start by searching for more information on native experience, but also try to include their understanding of the body in our studies in order to access a body that is not merely the object of Western knowledge production. 6. Conclusions Since the cultural turn, body historians have approached the body as a historically variable object, subjected to the power of science and disciplined by social norms. However, this has produced a historical body that is an agentless substance, and historians have neglected the individual experiences of encounters between “objects” and “subjects” of knowledge and the materiality of the body in those encounters. While there is a fear that turning to materiality might essentialize the body and undo the important work of deconstructing seemingly fixed notions of biological difference, new approaches such as praxiography might offer a solution. With its methodology of ethnographic participant observation, praxiography focuses on bodies in practice, as an acting agent amongst other agents, such as sites, materials, and techniques. Thus, it allows space for the materiality of the body, but does not turn to essentialism: praxiography focuses on the ontological instability or multiplicity of the body, how it is differently enacted in every practice and has managed to form a seemingly natural unity. Moreover, although seemingly paying less attention to the deconstruction of disciplining discourses on gender and race, praxiography might provide new ways of opening up historical power relations by looking at the relationship between practices of knowledge production and the representation of the body that is produced through the process of creating a “virtual common object”. Thus, instead of erasing the political importance of deconstruction, this approach presents the perspective that first, scientists were not dominant in producing body knowledge, and second, that social norms inscribed onto the body were not powerful, united constructions but loosely-tied, unstable enactments. By understanding the process of producing meaning as a practice, we might be able to rethink the binary opposition between practice and discourse. A praxiographic approach to body history thus potentially opens up new ways of looking at power and norms in regard to gender, sexuality and race. So far, praxiographic analyses have been limited to seemingly hierarchical encounters between doctors and patients or scientists and natives. The potential of a praxiographic analysis of bodies in history can be tested in future by expanding its topics outside of these types of encounters. Also, this methodology should include more attention to corporeal experience. In any case, it is undeniable that the material turn has affected and enriched the field of body history and that historians should take note of it. Acknowledgments The authors would like to thank Ed Jonker, Kristine Steenbergh, Melvin Wevers and the anonymous referees for their helpful comments on a previous version of this article. Humanities 2014, 3 563 Author Contributions Sections 1, 2 and 4 have been written by Willemijn Ruberg; Sections 3 and 5 by Iris Clever, however both authors have read and approved the final manuscript. Conflicts of Interest The authors declare no conflict of interest. References and Notes 1. 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This paper discusses a much more detailed analysis of Van der Sande’s work. Due to limited space, only its conclusions are presented here. Iris would like to thank Dr. Geertje Mak for selecting this case study for her master’s thesis, and pointing her towards Annemarie Mol’s work for the analysis. Our stimulating discussions were fundamental to the analysis. Dr. Geertje Mak is preparing an article on race and praxiography in relation to this case study, see Geertje Mak. “Enactments of Sex, Enactments of Race around 1900 and the Question of Surface.” Paper presented at Race and Racialization—Meaning and Consequences of Biological Differences, RNAAS-Hendrik Muller summer school, Leusden, June 2013. 59. Gijsbertus Adrian Johan van der Sande. Nova Guinea. Leiden: Brill, 1907, vol. 3. 60. In a recent overview of Dutch anthropological work in the Indonesian archipelago, historian Fenneke Sysling argues that finding a single marker of race was problematic on a local level. 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Johannes Fabian. Out of Their Minds: Reason and Madness in the Exploration of Central Africa. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2000. © 2014 by the authors; licensee MDPI, Basel, Switzerland. This article is an open access article distributed under the terms and conditions of the Creative Commons Attribution license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/). 
work_lyz56oyuqnfq3gktvtnn5n4zsu	----	EDITORS’ MESSAGE Editors’ Message: the Hydrogeologist Time Capsule — archival video recordings of influential hydrogeologists Craig T. Simmons & Philippe Renard If we look back through history, we can all recall scientists and engineers who have made a material difference to the society in which we live. Hydrogeology is no exception. From Henry Darcy to Charles Vernon Theis, from William Smith to Thomas Chrowder Cham- berlin, from Jacob Bear to József Tóth, the many achievements of our hydrogeologic ancestors form the very basis for the work we do today as groundwater scientists, engineers, and professionals. But how well do we really know these people and their achievements? It is probably true that we usually know the technical details of the work of these individuals. However, rarely have we gained insights into them as people—to better understand their personal motivations, aspirations, and living philos- ophies. It is interesting to ponder, even momentarily, upon questions like: What were they like as people? What motivated them? What lead them to make their discover- ies? What thoughts did they have about the state of science in their time? What visions did they have for the future of hydrogeology? Science is after all more than just a collection of theories, equations, experiments and journal papers, it is also vitally about people—the scientist who makes a discovery, the hydrogeologist who has a vision or an idea, the inspirational leader who makes a tangible difference to a community, the student who works with a professor in a vibrant research team where science and discovery are infectious. How do we get answers to these often non-technical and perhaps seemingly personal questions? Sometimes, if we are lucky enough, we might find an occasional answer in an original monograph or paper. However, this is usually very unlikely because journal papers and archival records are most often technical documents that do not reveal answers to these fundamental questions. In some cases, we may be able to find either biographical, or even better, autobiographical information—but there are few of these that are widely available. One compelling example can be used to illustrate why searching for our historical roots and getting to know the scientists behind hydrogeologic science is important. Every hydrogeologist, geoscientist and engineer knows Darcy’s Law. For many of us, Darcy’s Law brings to mind his frequently used equation, a column filled with sand, a bundle of manometer tubes, and some flow-rate calcu- lations in aquifers. Discovered in 1856, Darcy’s Law is now hydrogeologic mantra. However, until very recently, we did not know very much about Darcy’s life and the process of his discovery. One often wondered: Did he stumble onto his law? Did he know he had discovered something deeply profound about nature? Did he die not knowing? We did not even know what he looked like, or why his name was spelt Henry Darcy and not Henri d’Arcy. Recently, we have begun to exhibit curiosity about Darcy’s life and science (Freeze 1994; Sharp and Simmons 2005; Simmons 2007). These and other accounts reveal that Darcy was a selfless citizen who was deeply inspired to make a change in this world by building the impressive water distribution system for his native town of Dijon in France. His work transformed a city rid with filth and squalor to one whose water supply was second best only to Rome in Europe by 1840. He waived all fees, which would have amounted to near US $1.5M in today’s currency. Darcy’s life and science has been brought to life through the discovery of old portraits, letters and archival records. Critically, we also learn of the important details of the process of his scientific discovery. We now know with certainty that Darcy suspected his law before he did his now famous column experiments in the unnamed hospital courtyard in Dijon in 1856 (Simmons 2007). He knew his discovery was significant, but he was not surprised by it. Imagine if we could have asked Darcy about his life as an engineer, why research was important to him, and how it was that he came to make a number of major scientific and engineering contributions (outlined in Simmons 2007). Imagine if we could have asked Darcy about the day he plotted his experimental data from his column experiments to find that his experimental data fell Received: 19 November 2007 /Accepted: 22 November 2007 Published online: 19 January 2008 © Springer-Verlag 2007 C. T. Simmons ()) School of Chemistry, Physics and Earth Sciences, Flinders University, P.O. Box 2100, Adelaide, SA 5001, Australia e-mail: craig.simmons@flinders.edu.au P. Renard Centre for Hydrogeology, University of Neuchâtel, 11 Rue Emile Argand, CP 158, CH-2009 Neuchâtel, Switzerland Hydrogeology Journal (2008) 16: 1–3 DOI 10.1007/s10040-007-0256-z on a straight line—that very moment when he discovered that the flow rate of water through sand was linearly proportional to the head gradient across the sand layer, something he had already foreseen based on his earlier research work on water flow in pipes. Imagine hearing answers to these questions in Darcy’s own words. If only technology in that French Renaissance period had permit- ted us the opportunity to capture live footage of Darcy. Like Darcy, many other opportunities to capture distin- guished and influential hydrogeologists have already been missed. We cannot change the past but we, as a community of hydrogeologists, can change the future. We can make a conscious decision and effort to make visual and sound records of the reminiscences of some important and influential hydrogeologists of our time. We do have the capability to preserve their thoughts about their careers, their lives, their discoveries, their legacies, and messages for future generations. This Editors’ Message announces that we have begun a project to accomplish the above goals. Indeed, we now have the possibility of hearing from eminent groundwater hydrologists personally, in their own words and visually. We have the possibility that every hydrogeologist, student, professor and consultant, across the world can listen, watch and learn from influential individuals in our field. Add the flexibility of being able to do this at any chosen time, from anywhere in the world including a home computer, and consider that this is free of cost. Until the advent of modern internet and digital technology, this would not have been possible, but now these capabilities have been made available to everyone with the launch of a new project supported by the International Association of Hydrogeologists (IAH) called the Hydrogeologist Time Capsule. A new website (http://timecapsule.iah.org, IAH 2007) provides a collection of video and audio interviews of eminent and influential hydrogeologists who continue to change the face of our profession. Upon release of most videos online, a companion ‘Profiles of Eminent Hydro- geologists’ article will appear in Hydrogeology Journal, usually written by the interviewer. This issue of Hydro- geology Journal presents the first such pair. We are delighted to launch this project with an interview of C.V. Theis (1900–1987), conducted by John Bredehoeft in 1985 and taped by Ben Jones, all members of the US Geological Survey. Theis gave groundwater hydrology the now universally used Theis equation for estimating transmissivity and storativity values near a pumping well from drawdown data collected during an aquifer pump test, but Theis’ contribution is deeper. John Bredehoeft describes the context of Theis’ professional work as follows: Hydrogeology in the 1920s was stuck—totally sty- mied. They had equations for incompressible ground- water flow that did not fit their observations. They needed a transient equation, but they did not know what form that equation took—O.E. Meinzer wrote about this in 1928. Along came Theis, the most junior member of the US Geological Survey group, and solved the problem by suggesting the analogy with heat flow. By all accounts, Meinzer was stunned; he could not believe that this new geologist had solved “the problem”—of course, he told Theis he did not believe it, he had his doubts. How would you like that? You solve the biggest problem of the day, and your boss—the great man O.E. Meinzer, doubts you accomplished it! At any rate, Jacob settled the issue. ...It takes real genius to see the basic form of the underlying theory—this was Theis’ contribution. He got hydrogeology as a science unstuck and rolling—it never looked back. Readers are urged to delve further into the context of Theis’ work by reading Bredehoeft’s personal account of his interview (Bredehoeft 2008). The 1985 taped interview has until now been languish- ing in the US Geological Survey library, and has apparently been seen by very few individuals. Now, the original tape has been edited and converted to modern day formats, and is available online at the Hydrogeologist Time Capsule site. In both the online video and Bredehoeft’s profile of Theis in this issue, we learn a lot about how Theis approached problems of the day, not only the issue of pump tests, but also the parameterisation of aquifers. We see firsthand his visionary ability to predict many of the important issues that face us today in hydrogeology such as contaminant transport and disper- sion. The interview makes it abundantly clear that Theis was a man whose thinking was well ahead of his time. To watch Theis talk with Bredehoeft about his work and life is an extraordinary experience. We hope that hydro- geologists across the world will enjoy the interview, learn something from it and get to know Theis a little better. We also hope that the new availability of the interview online supports educational uses and that teachers will employ it in their courses; one can easily imagine using the video to bring pump-test theory to life by bringing C.V. Theis into a classroom. The second set of videos already available on the Time Capsule web site was prepared by Alex Cheng and his colleagues at the University of Southern Mississippi and the University of Memphis, USA. Two videos were produced. One is an interview of Jacob Bear by a group of faculty members and students. The other is a lecture in which Jacob Bear presents his views on the past and a vision for the future of transport in porous media. One of the particularly interesting aspects in those videos is the description of the links between fundamental research, applied engineering problems, and teaching that interact deeply in Jacob Bear’s works and motivations. Other video recordings currently in production include Paul Witherspoon, interviewed by R. Allan Freeze, and József Tóth. Indeed, József Tóth was interviewed in October 2007 at the Geological Society of America conference in Denver by Ben Rostron (University of 2 Hydrogeology Journal (2008) 16: 1–3 DOI 10.1007/s10040-007-0256-z http://timecapsule.iah.org Alberta, Canada) and taped by Craig Simmons. József Tóth remarked on the Hydrogeologist Time Capsule upon completing this momentous interview: This is an extremely creative idea and an exceptionally important one. The time has come to more deeply understand how our science was born and has grown, to hear from influential groundwater scientists first hand about their life’s work, and for us, as scientists, to share our reflections and future visions with both current and future generations. I am extremely hon- oured and humbled to have been invited to contribute to this project and to have had the opportunity to discuss my life story and my scientific legacy on tape. I encourage the international scientific community to support this new project in the strongest possible terms. Acknowledgements IAH has provided financial support for this project. Thanks to Cliff Voss, Andrew Skinner, Sue Duncan, Sylvain Tissot, Laslo Kiraly, and Javier Jueda for their ongoing support, invaluable suggestions and vital contributions to the project. We are indebted to John Bredehoeft, Jacob Bear, Alex Cheng, Paul Witherspoon, Allan Freeze, Iraj Javandel, József Tóth, Ben Rostron, Todd Halihan, Jack Sharp and Tim Sickbert for their role in numerous interviews that are currently in preparation or online. We would like to thank all others who supported the interviews in some way. Craig Simmons and Philippe Renard are coordinating the Time Capsule project for IAH. References Bredehoeft JD (2008) An interview with C.V. Theis. Hydrogeol J This issue Freeze RA (1994) Henry Darcy and the fountains of Dijon. Ground Water 32:23–30 IAH (2007) Hydrogeologist time capsule. http://timecapsule.iah.org Sharp JM Jr, Simmons CT (2005) The compleat Darcy: new lessons learned from the first English translation of Les Fontaines Publiques de la Ville de Dijon. Ground Water 43(3):457–460 Simmons CT (2007) Henry Darcy (1803–1858) Immortalised by his scientific legacy. Aquifer Systems Management: Darcy’s legacy in a world of impending water shortage. In: Laurence Chery, Ghislain de Marsily (eds) IAH selected papers on hydrogeology, vol 10. Taylor and Francis, London, pp 3–24 3 Hydrogeology Journal (2008) 16: 1–3 DOI 10.1007/s10040-007-0256-z http://timecapsule.iah.org Editors’ Message: the Hydrogeologist Time Capsule — archival video recordings of influential hydrogeologists Outline placeholder References << /ASCII85EncodePages false /AllowTransparency false /AutoPositionEPSFiles true /AutoRotatePages /None /Binding /Left /CalGrayProfile (None) /CalRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CalCMYKProfile (ISO Coated) /sRGBProfile (sRGB IEC61966-2.1) /CannotEmbedFontPolicy /Error /CompatibilityLevel 1.3 /CompressObjects /Off /CompressPages true /ConvertImagesToIndexed true /PassThroughJPEGImages true /CreateJDFFile false /CreateJobTicket false /DefaultRenderingIntent /Perceptual /DetectBlends true /ColorConversionStrategy /sRGB /DoThumbnails true /EmbedAllFonts true /EmbedJobOptions true /DSCReportingLevel 0 /EmitDSCWarnings false /EndPage -1 /ImageMemory 524288 /LockDistillerParams true /MaxSubsetPct 100 /Optimize true /OPM 1 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work_m6wcbhclbfgr7edspafmbvwbke	----	La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac de Cabrières: Le Cas d’Opède Morand Métivier, C-L 2018 La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac de Cabrières: Le Cas d’Opède. Modern Languages Open, 2018(1): 10, pp. 1–14, DOI: https://doi.org/10.3828/mlo.v0i0.171 ARTICLE La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac de Cabrières: Le Cas d’Opède Charles-Louis Morand Métivier University of Vermont, US cmorandm@uvm.edu This article examines how, in the Protestant play “La Tragédie du sac de Cabrières” (16th century), the personality of the leader of the Catholic forces at the siege of Cabrières, d’Opède, is constructed through a set of oppositions between his duties as a leader and his dilemmas as a man. With an analysis of the transformation of the character from a man full of doubts to a “monster” dedicated to the extermination of the Waldensians, the author examines how gender and emotions are intertwined in the (re)creation of a masculine person- ality that sets aside any non-useful ideas in order to become a man completely devoted to his cause. Avant même que la Réforme ne se propage en Europe, des idées proches de celles qui seront développées à la Renaissance avaient déjà été formulées dans le dogme des Vaudois, un mou- vement religieux qui trouva ses origines à Lyon, au XIIe siècle, et qui suivit les préceptes de Pierre Vaudès.1 Ce groupe, principalement présent dans la région des Alpes et du Piémont, se développa et se répandit jusqu’à l’établissement de près de 300 de ces protoréformés en Provence et dans le Lubéron au cours du XVe siècle. Leur foi n’était pas, bien entendu, accep- tée par les institutions et le parlement d’Aix lança, en 1540, un mandat d’arrêt contre « ceux de Mérindol » (l’un des villages Vaudois) pour un « crime de lèse-majesté divine » (Aubéry, 19). François Ier, après avoir ordonné l’exécution de cet arrêt, le suspendit en 1541. Cependant, en avril 1545, suite à un brusque changement d’opinion du roi, le mandat fut remis en vigueur. Une opération conjointe des troupes royales et provençales, dirigées respectivement par le Capitaine Poulin et le président du Parlement d’Aix, Maynier d’Opède, aboutit au massacre des populations vaudoises du Lubéron.2 1 Pour une histoire générale du mouvement vaudois et de ses croyances, voir Gabriel Audisio, The Waldensian Dissent. Persecution and Survival, c. 1170–c. 1570, trad. Claire Davison (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999). 2 Dans son Procès-verbal d’un massacre. Les vaudois du Lubéron (avril 1545) (Aix-en-Provence: EDISUD, 1992), Gabriel Audisio donne une explication très détaillée des événements et des décisions judiciaires qui avaient mené aux massacres. https://doi.org/10.3828/mlo.v0i0.171 mailto:cmorandm@uvm.edu Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 2 Les événements qui contribuèrent à la destruction des villages de Cabrières et de Mérindol lors de cette opération3 constituent le point de départ de l’anonyme Tragédie du sac de Cabrières (1566–68 ?). La pièce commence après le repoussement d’une première offensive des troupes impériales. Poulin et Catderousse, deux officiers royaux, se blâmaient d’Opède, leur chef, et l’accusaient de l’échec de l’attaque. Ceux-là pensaient que seules la force et la violence pourraient mettre fin au conflit ; alors qu’Opède mettait en avant une solution plus diplomatique, dont se moquaient ses subalternes. Il était perclus de doutes au sujet du bien-fondé de cette offensive, mais il décida de s’aligner irrémédiablement sur les positions de Catderousse et de Poulin, et ainsi, de faire tomber Cabrières. Par prétexte, Opède envoya Poulin pour négocier une trêve avec le maire et la syndique, d’une part, et les dirigeants vaudois, d’autre part, en leur demandant de fournir leur profession de foi sous pli cacheté. Les deux hommes se partagèrent donc les intentions de Poulin ; le maire, très méfiant, ne voyait en lui que la fin de Cabrières ; tandis que le Syndique voulait donner une chance au plan de paix proposé. Suite à cette rencontre, Poulin, qui avait récupéré la profession de foi, se sentait converti, et annonça à Opède qu’il refusait de les trahir. Ce dernier lui expliqua alors, faussement, que le siège sera levé, et que, pour éviter un camouflet humiliant, il sou- haiterait s’en aller en traversant le village. Ainsi, il faudrait que les portes lui soient ouvertes. Poulin transmit le message, mais grâce à ce subterfuge, les troupes catholiques rentrèrent dans Cabrières et massacrèrent la population. Les Vaudois maudissaient Poulin, qui disparut, plein de remords. La pièce se termine avec un Catderousse et un Opède hilares qui menaient le peuple au bûcher, pendant que les Vaudois priaient Dieu de les accueillir. Bien que cette tragédie soit relativement connue des seiziémistes, elle a cependant été peu étudiée. Si de nombreux ouvrages évoquent son nom dans le cadre du théâtre de la Renaissance, particulièrement dans le contexte de la réforme,4 elle n’aurait pas pour autant été analysée de façon poussée. À l’exception de l’excellent article d’Olivier Millet,5 je n’en ai compté qu’un seul qui lui est directement consacré,6 en plus d’une thèse de doctorat.7 Ces travaux privilégient une approche différente de la pièce. Baretaud place Cabrières dans le cadre d’une analyse de pièces basées sur des écrits bibliques afin de mettre en relief la façon avec laquelle celles-ci apposaient le spectateur dans une position de témoin de l’atrocité com- mise sur scène. Ainsi, il entrera en confrontation avec à un récit plein de puissance et de violence. Morand-Métivier et Millet, de leur côté, consacrent leur étude à la pièce unique- ment. L’analyse de Millet se concentre plutôt sur le rôle de la parole dans la mise en scène d’une adversité entre vérité et mensonge à travers les mots des différents protagonistes ; l’authenticité de la parole, signe de vérité et de pureté face à Dieu, est donc tenue en opposi- tion avec la langue du mensonge qui écarte l’homme de Dieu et de sa rédemption. Finalement, dans le chapitre de sa thèse consacré à Cabrières, Morand-Métivier analyse les différents élé- ments constitutifs des communautés au sein de la pièce. Les deux groupes (catholiques et protestants), loin d’être des entités monolithiques, témoignaient de beaucoup de variations 3 Voir à ce sujet Jacques Aubéry, Histoire de l’exécution de Cabrières et de Mérindol et d’autres lieux de Provence, éd. Gabriel Audisio (Paris: Les Éditions de Paris, 1995). 4 On pourrait citer, par exemple, l’article « 1553, mars, les origines de la tragédie française » de Timothy J. Reiss, dans De la Littérature française, éd. Denis Holier (Paris: Bordas, 1989). 5 Olivier Millet, “Vérité et mensonge dans la Tragédie du sac de Cabrières: une dramaturgie de la parole en action,” Australian Journal of French Studies 21:3 (1994), 259–73. 6 Anne Baretaud, « Le récit comme acte dans les tragédies bibliques du XVIe siècle, » Loxias 12 (2006), http://revel. unice.fr/loxias/index.html/?id=935. 7 Charles-Louis Morand Métivier, Apprendre des massacres: émotions et nation dans la littérature du Moyen-âge et de la Renaissance. Diss. University of Pittsburgh, 2013. Voir chapitre 4, « Mettre en scène les hommes: mascu- linité et gouvernance dans la Tragédie du sac de Cabrières ». http://revel.unice.fr/loxias/index.html/?id=935 http://revel.unice.fr/loxias/index.html/?id=935 Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 3 et d’interpénétrations, ce qui conduisit au rééquilibrage des différents éléments, des multi- ples mentalités et des idées diversifiées qui les constituent. Dans cet article, je me propose de prolonger l’argumentation de Morand-Métivier en me focalisant, particulièrement, sur la façon dont Opède modulait sa masculinité par des revire- ments affectifs afin de se faire « effectivement » accepter au sein du groupe catholique. Au début de la pièce, on le trouve tiraillé par des désarrois antinomiques: le désir d’être accepté par ses hommes et de commander ses opinions, d’une part, et l’angoisse de faire le mauvais choix, d’autre part. C’est en éteignant ces sentiments affaiblissants et en adoptant rage et haine contre les Vaudois qu’il était parvenu à renverser le ressenti de ses compatriotes qui, en admettant sa masculinité forgée par ces nouvelles émotions, le reconnurent, en fin de compte, en tant que leur dirigeant. Poulin, de la même façon, avait effectué un revirement émotionnel qui le poussait à changer sa personnalité pour que sa communauté vaudoise l’acceptât au cours d’une épiphanie. En effet, cette situation est beaucoup moins documen- tée que celle d’Opède. La rhétorique des émotions devint alors la création du personnage qui les change drastiquement et qui les transforme en d’autres entités plus promptes à effectuer leur devoir. I. Opède, entre figure historique et personnage théâtral Cabrières est, à part, dans le microcosme de la tragédie humaniste. La grande majorité de ces tragédies était basée sur des histoires mythologiques ou bibliques qui mettaient en abyme le contexte des guerres de religions. Les pièces historiques étaient rares ; une étude approfondie des excellentes collections de tragédie publiée chez Olschkin, qui les regroupent toutes, m’ont uniquement permis d’en isoler quatre au total: l’anonyme Tragédie française du bon Kanut, roi du Danemark (1575) ; la Tragédie de feu Gaspard de Coligny (1575), de François de Chantelouve ; l’Histoire tragique de la Pucelle de Dom-Remy (1581), de Fronton du duc ; la Guisiade (1589), de Pierre Mathieu.8 Parmi ces œuvres, toutes postérieures à celle qui nous intéresse ici, seule celle de Chantelouve et de Mathieu est basée sur des éléments directement liés aux conflits religieux. Contrairement à Cabrières, elles sont l’œuvre d’auteurs catholiques qui attaquent violemment la réforme et ses membres. Là où Cabrières se démarquait alors de ses consœurs réformées, c’est dans l’utilisation directe d’un massacre commis par les catholiques afin de montrer leur ignominie et de les condamner. La réalité historique, écrite dans Cabrières, est donc celle des vaudois ; ainsi, elle met clairement en évidence les fautes et les massacres des catholiques. La théâtralisation de la représentation de Jean Maynier d’Opède, premier président du parlement d’Aix, est particulièrement intéressante à prendre en considération afin de comprendre comment la figure historique était utilisée pour façon- ner le protagoniste de la tragédie. Le consensus des textes et des analyses historiques écrit sur Jean Meynier d’Opède est très négatif. Ainsi, dans les écrits de Jacques Aubéry, c’est lui qui est désigné comme le respon- sable principal du massacre. Gabriel Audisio souligne sa culpabilité, vu le niveau de respon- sabilité du poste qu’il occupait et qui lui permettait de lever des troupes: « […] Jean Maynier, baron of Oppède, was responsible both for justice, as the president of the Parlement in Aix, and the police, as the absent governor’s lieutenant » (procès-verbal, 191). Guy-Jean Arché souligne l’impunité totale dont Opède se sentait disposer: « persuadé que le roi et que son conseil fermeront les yeux, et sûr du consentement tacite, voire de la collaboration de la part de la population provençale, il se permettra de tout » (116). Sa culpabilité ainsi que sa grande 8 La première série s’intitule Théâtre français de la renaissance, la tragédie à l’époque d’Henri II et de Charles IX, 1566–1567 et comprend 5 volumes. La seconde série, la Tragédie à l’époque d’Henri III, comprend, quant à elle, 6 volumes. Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 4 cruauté étaient déjà mises en avant dans d’autres ouvrages plus anciens et plus partisans. Citant l’Histoire de France d’Henri Martin, Alexandre Bérard relève les nombreuses exactions imputées à ce dernier, par exemple, le fait qu’il « fit arquebuser » un « pauvre idiot » et que les femmes qui s’étaient cachées dans une église « après mille outrages, furent précipitées du haut des rochers du château. » (176) De son côté, au moment d’identifier les responsables de l’arrêt qui avait causé la destruction des deux villages, Eugène Arnaud insistait sur le fait que « le premier à mentionner est Jean Maynier, Seigneur d’Opède, parce que ce fut le plus coupable et le plus cruel, au Comtat » (58). Malgré toutes ces descriptions, il est fort de constater que la personnalité d’Opède dans la pièce n’est pas, tout au moins au début de l’œuvre, celle d’un monstre sanguinaire. Au con- traire, il a du respect pour la cause vaudoise ; et ce n’est que, suite à une transformation progres- sive de sa personnalité, qu’il abandonna sa sympathie et ses doutes pour devenir le bourreau de Cabrières. Comment expliquer cette transformation ? Avant tout, elle est motivée par la nécessité d’être acceptée par des hommes qui ont du mal à reconnaître en lui leur chef, à cause de sa personnal- ité. Dans ses premières répliques, Opède est très peu sûr de lui, remettant en question ses idées, et s’avère, par conséquent, victime des quolibets de Catderousse et de Poulin. Opède annonce effectivement être « las, malheureux, » (v. 2) et il ne sait pas la suite des événements (« aurais-je tant vécu/qu’à vaincre ou qu’à mourir, je préfère la fuite ! » [Vv. 2–3].9 Poulin et Catderousse, dont les personnalités sont à l’opposé de celle d’Opède, ont grande confiance en leurs actions et en eux-mêmes. Ils remettent en question sa gouvernance [« le lion fuit s’il a un cerf pour sa con- duite », v. 4] et ont une idée très arrêtée sur ce qui devrait être fait pour débloquer la situation: le fait d’attaquer Cabrières afin d’en déloger les Vaudois et terminer ainsi le siège. Catderousse se justifie en expliquant que « si nous avions suivi et redoublé l’assaut,/n’aurions-nous pas franchi le rempart de plein saut ?/n’aurions-nous pas déjà l’enseigne sur la brèche ? » vv. 13–15). Selon eux, c’est clairement Opède qui est responsable de leur échec. Si les armées avaient redoublé de rigueur, au lieu de s’atermoyer, le problème du siège ne se poserait plus. Ils voyaient ainsi ses propositions comme un signe de faiblesse et riaient de son manque de charisme et de gouvernance (« Quel chef, quel gouverneur ! Quel hardi combattant ! » v. 57) Dans ces attaques contre la gouvernance d’Opède, c’est sa masculinité de dirigeant qui est également attaquée. Cette opposition entre Opède et ses lieutenants est ancrée dans un grand débat de la Renaissance, celui des armes et des lettres. Le cœur de cette querelle était de savoir si un homme complet avait encore besoin de plus de force afin d’affirmer sa puissance d’être, ou bien au contraire, sa puissance d’intellect que lui conférait l’étude des textes.10 Dans ce contexte, Opède se rangeait du côté de ceux qui mettaient les lettres, et donc la parole et l’intellect, en tant que qualités supérieures dans la résolution des conflits. Son modèle de masculinité était donc pétri par cette préférence qu’il donnait dans son discours à la résolution intellectuelle des conflits qu’il affrontait ; ce qui a également contribué à le mettre en opposition complète avec ses hommes, dont la masculinité est principalement envahie par la volonté de domination de la puissance physique. II. La masculinité d’Opède, nœud central des critiques et des questionnements La principale opposition entre Opède et ses hommes tourne autour des questions liées à la notion de masculinité, et qui, par dérivation, sont liées à ses actions de gouvernant. Catderousse et Poulin insistaient sur le fait que la lâcheté des armées et leur manque d’entrain 9 Les citations de la pièce viennent toutes de l’édition de Daniela Bocassini. 10 Voir notamment Jamie Supple, Arms versus Letters: Military and Literary Ideals in the “Essais” of Montaigne (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984). Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 5 sont directement liés à la personnalité faible d’Opède. Ils sont des militaires ; leurs modèles de masculinité reposent sur ceux d’un homme fort, puissant, obéissant aux ordres, et surtout, montrant de l’efficacité au combat. Leurs émotions ne laissent aucune place à la peur, con- centrées sur la haine envers leur ennemi. Ceci se retranscrit dans leur masculinité calquée par les émotions de leur personnalité. Définir l’idée de masculinité est une tâche extrêmement compliquée, car elle est basée sur de nombreux éléments théoriques, culturels et sociologiques. L’une des pistes de départ évi- dentes consiste bien évidemment à se focaliser sur la façon dont un tel concept a été défini par différents chercheurs spécialistes des « gender studies. »11 R.W Connell explique que l’idée de masculinité ne peut pas se concevoir sans celle de la féminité ; il insiste également sur le fait qu’un tel concept ne saurait être catalogué. Seule son étude permet de comprendre et d’analyser sa place dans un schéma complexe sociétal (« if we broaden the angle of vision, we can see masculinity, not as an isolated event, but as an aspect of a larger structure », 67). Dans cette même veine, David LaGuardia souligne que: It would undoubtedly be more appropriate to speak of “masculinities” always in the plural, since the selection of one given version of the gender assigned to men as nor- mative would participate in the kind of hegemonic imposition of gender stereotypes and behaviors against which women’s studies, feminism and gender studies have con- sistently struggled. (5) Dans le sillage de LaGuardia, Todd Reeser note que l’idée de masculinité ne pourrait, en aucun cas, être définie de façon réductrice et exclusive ; et que les modèles applicables à un cas ou à une personne ne sont, en aucun cas, « interchangeables » avec un autre individu (16). Ces définitions sont ancrées dans un schéma d’analyse moderne. Il est important de pren- dre ici en considération la façon dont ces théories s’appliquent à un contexte prémoderne, ainsi qu’à une réflexion sur le rôle du dirigeant-soldat. En effet, si l’idée de masculinité, dans son contexte théorique, n’existait pas en soi à cette époque, être homme et dirigeant à la fois était deux notions bien discutées et définies. La masculinité du chef d’armée était basée sur des modèles précis. Pour François de la Noue, cité par Hervé Drévillon, « un gentilhomme doit avoir le cœur viril. » (293) Georges Vigarello explique que si la délicatesse, à la Renaissance, était devenue une composante acceptée, elle ne devait « en rien compromettre quelque aspé- rité virile. La modération ne saurait en rien limiter persévérance et volonté. » Citant Hannibal Romei, il ajoute que « l’homme parfait se doit d’être dominateur, “terrible et beau […] afin que, combattant avec fureur, il soit terrible à ses ennemis” » (193). À la lumière de ces analyses, je vais proposer une définition de la masculinité qui prend en considération la dimension sociale, historique et culturelle dans laquelle elle est mise en scène. Dans le cas de Cabrières, elle est définie selon deux actes: la façon dont les hommes doivent se comporter dans leur fonction, mais également, la façon dont cette masculinité entre dans un schéma très dépendant de sa perception par autres éléments extérieurs. Cette définition se rapproche assez des idées d’Arthur Brittan qui explique que la masculinité peut être définie comme des « aspects of men’s behaviour that fluctuate over time » (53), et celle de George L. Mosse qui pense que la masculinité est comme « the way men assert what they believe to be their manhood » (3). 11 Il n’y a pas de consensus sur la traduction du terme « gender » en français ; pour cette raison, je n’utiliserai que le mot anglais « gender » dans cet article. À ce sujet, voir Josiane Haly, « le casse-tête de la traduction du mot “gender” en français, » ILCEA 3 (2002). Elle explique qu’aucune traduction ne s’impose plus que l’autre, tout en reconnaissant que « lorsque la diffusion du concept sera plus large, une traduction s’imposera. » (120). Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 6 Dans Cabrières, la notion d’autre est au cœur de nombreuses oppositions (soldat et dirigeant, catholiques et protestants, etc.) dans lesquelles la masculinité joue un rôle primor- dial.12 Cette dualité, entre un « nous » et un « eux » qui s’opposent sur différents sujets est cen- trale à la pièce ; Catderousse annonce, « quiconque se voit chef d’une grande armée,/s’il a au fond de son cœur la vertu imprimée,/ne laisse l’ennemi jamais fortifié » (vv. 19–21). Opède a laissé l’ennemi se reprendre, même s’il aurait dû ordonner de porter le coup fatal. Il n’a pas la malice nécessaire à un bon chef (« tantôt par fausse alarme et tantôt de grande force ») et doit être sans pitié avec ses ennemis (« l’assaut à l’improviste et rudement la force », vv. 24–25). Ces deux qualités sont nécessaires pour un chef s’il veut être respecté de ses hommes qui ne pouvaient pas l’accepter pleinement comme un leader qu’ils voulaient suivre et servir. Face aux accusations de ses hommes, Opède reconnaît qu’il ne correspond pas à leurs can- ons de gouvernance. Il admet sa faiblesse physique et son manque de force, loin des modèles du genre que sont Catderousse et Poulin: « Bien qu’homme je ne sois à nul de vous pareil/en force et hardiesse, aussi peu qu’en conseil » (vv. 29–30). Pour contrebalancer cela, il annonce néanmoins qu’il a certaines qualités que ni Catderousse, ni d’Opède possèdent: « Les conseils de la main en moi pourtant se trouvent » appuyant son propos en expliquant que « quelques amis quelquefois les approuvent » (vv. 31–32). En impliquant des personnes extérieures (« quelques amis ») afin de renforcer sa déclaration, Opède introduit sa propre vision du con- flit et de la masculinité. Puisque certaines personnes sont d’accord avec ses positions, c’est qu’elles sont valides. Il explique alors qu’il préfère parlementer plutôt que se lancer dans des actions violentes, en insistant sur le fait que « la lance n’y peut rien, mais seulement la langue » (v. 43). Selon lui, la violence ne se justifie pas si l’on peut atteindre le même but par la négociation. Olivier Millet insiste sur l’importance de la parole dans la construction des personnages de la pièce ; que celle-ci soit utilisée pour mettre en avant la vérité de l’action ou, au contraire, afin d’arriver à tromper l’ennemi: c’est l’un des éléments moteurs du dével- oppement de l’intrigue. Cette « parole en action » (259), pour reprendre ses mots, est cruciale dans la construction des personnalités émotionnelles et masculines des protagonistes, et plus particulièrement, dans celle d’Opède. III. Discours et rhétoriques émotionnels dans la construction de la masculinité Ce qui rend le discours sur la masculinité présent dans Cabrières particulièrement fort tient en grande partie aux personnages présents. En effet, tous les protagonistes de la pièce sont des hommes. C’est vrai que le chœur, entité asexuée, se présente comme un groupe de prison- nier d’une ville précédemment mise à sac et détruite par les mêmes soldats qui assiégeaient Cabrières.13 Il n’y existe que deux références rapides à parvenir aux femmes. Dans un pre- mier temps, le maire voit une femme morte, tenant son enfant qui essaie de téter le sein de la défunte: « C’est une femme morte embrassant son enfant/lequel encore vif de sa petite bouche/veut prendre le téton de peur qu’il ne le touche/de l’un des bras la mère hélas sans sentiment/semble le reculer du mortel aliment » (vv. 1385–90) ; il se rend alors compte qu’il s’agit de son épouse et de leur enfant: « C’est ici mon enfant cette morte et ma femme ! » (v. 1405) Poulin lui-même explique aussi au syndique que sa femme était également massa- crée avec son fils, dans un long passage au cours duquel il énumère les nombreuses atrocités 12 En ce qui concerne le rôle de la masculinité dans la construction de la notion d’homme catholique et/ou, les deux références, par leurs analyses pluridisciplinaires de la question sont Scott H Hendrix, et Susan C. Karant- Nunn, eds. Masculinity in the Reformation Era. (Kirksville, MO: Truman State University Press, 2008) et Philip Ford et Paul White, eds. Masculinities in Sixteenth-Century France. Proceedings of the Eighth Cambridge French Renaissance Colloquium 5–7 July 2003. (Cambridge: Cambridge French Colloquia, 2006) 13 Le chœur indique qu’il est une « troupe captive aux mains de ces brigands » (v. 68). Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 7 commises par les troupes royales.14 Cette complète absence de personnages féminins est également une des spécificités de Cabrières. Aucune autre pièce de l’époque ne présente une complète absence délibérée de la sorte. Elles ont toutes au moins une femme jouant un rôle important ; comme c’est le cas dans l’Histoire tragique de la Pucelle de Dom Rémy, où Jeanne — un personnage central — est entourée de dix-sept personnages masculins et d’un chœur. Même dans le cas d’une pièce discutant d’un sujet qui se concentre sur des femmes, comme Les Juives de Robert Garnier (1583), des personnages masculins sont non seulement présents, mais jouent également un rôle prépondérant dans le développement de l’intrigue. Cabrières, en se passant de la sorte de femmes, met les rennes de la discussion émotionnelle dans les mains des hommes. Les atrocités commises contre les Vaudois sont ainsi clairement associées avec la mise en mots du développement (et du retournement) de la masculinité des protagonistes principaux. Passions, émotions et rhétoriques sont étroitement liées et interdépendantes à la Renaissance. Gisèle Matthieu-Castellani explique que « la rhétorique se définit surtout comme l’art d’utiliser les émotions, une “industrie de fléchir en bien disant les courages des écou- tants” comme le rappelle Pontus de Tyard » (14–15). Dans un genre comme le théâtre, il est nécessaire de comprendre comment émotions et rhétorique interagissent et comment elles sont liées. Ceci permet d’assimiler la façon dont elles influent le développement de l’action et comment elles forment une part primordiale, sinon la base, du développement de la mas- culinité d’Opède. Dans la Rhétorique, Aristote explique que les émotions sont « les causes qui font varier les hommes dans leurs jugements et qu’elles ont pour consécutions la peine et le plaisir, comme la colère, la pitié, la crainte et toutes les émotions de ce genre, ainsi que leurs contraires » (Livre II, 1378 a). Le rôle des émotions et du pathos dans la tragédie apparaît comme un lien logique ; Aristote lui-même la définit dans La poétique comme: L’imitation d’une action noble, conduite jusqu’à sa fin et ayant une certaine étendue, en un langage relevé d’assaisonnements dont chaque espèce est utilisée séparément selon les parties de l’œuvre: c’est une imitation, faite par des personnages en action et non par le moyen d’une narration, qui, par l’entremise de la pitié et de la crainte, accomplit la purgation des émotions de ce genre. (Livre VI, 1450 a)15 Les nombreux arts poétiques de la Renaissance développent des idées comparables dans leurs propres définitions de la tragédie. Jean de la Taille explique que « la vraie et seule intention d’une tragédie est d’émouvoir et de poindre merveilleusement les affections d’un chacun » (4) ; Jacques Peletier souligne, également, la dimension émotionnelle de la tragédie, ainsi que la dimension élevée de son écriture: « […] en la tragédie la fin est toujours luctueuse et lamentable, ou horrible à voir. […] La tragédie est sublime, capable de grandes matières tant principales que dépendantes » (303). Le développement de la personnalité d’Opède est une démonstration parfaite de la puissance rhétorique de la parole. Il est le seul personnage à bénéficier d’un long monologue (vv. 115— 185), si l’on met de côté, bien sûr, le chœur dont les implications sont différentes de celles du président du parlement.16 C’est principalement dans ce grand monologue qu’Opède change sa masculinité. Au début de la pièce, il érige la parole et l’intellect en qualités supérieures dans la résolu- tion des conflits. Afin d’appuyer ses dires, il compare son comportement avec celui d’Hercule, soulignant non pas ses prouesses physiques, mais plutôt le « doux miel de sa voix » (v. 38) qui 14 Voir notamment les passages vv. 1547–72 et vv. 1575–88. 15 Mon emphase. 16 Le chœur est composé de vaudois, comme l’indiquent les deux premiers vers de sa supplique initiale: « du sac de Mérindol cruellement funeste/troupe captive au camp de ces brigands je reste. » (vv. 68–69). Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 8 lui permettait de convaincre ses ennemis de ne pas combattre et de se rendre sans aucune effusion de sang. La référence à Hercule est filée par Opède tout au long du passage où il présente un rêve récurrent qu’il fait: Un songe, nuit et jour, dormant veillant, me bride Par l’exemple fameux de la chaîne d’Alcide De laquelle il tira vers lui prompts les Gaulois Par l’oreille, enivrez du doux miel de sa voix Tout ainsi cette ville à ma langue attachée Me semble tomber bas d’elle-même arrachée. (vv. 35–40) Opède se présente comme un nouvel Hercule, comme pour souligner l’importance, une fois de plus, de la parole dans sa vision de la gouvernance. Geoffroy Tory, dans son Champ Fleury de 1529, décrit Hercule « comme un homme sage qui sait persuader en soumettant à lui ce qu’il veut » (76). Marc-René Jung, qui le cite, confirme d’ailleurs que dans les écrits human- istes, on voyait principalement « en Hercule plutôt une force mentale que physique » (77). Pour Opède, la violence n’est pas nécessaire si la parole peut arriver à subjuguer Cabrières, comme il l’indique dans cet extrait. Ainsi, il pense pouvoir utiliser cette puissance pour accorder ses émotions envers Cabrières et son devoir en tant que dirigeant, prenant la ville sans effusion de sang. Poulin, en parfait contrexemple, démontre comment il a lui-même utilisé la parole non pas pour arriver à un consensus, mais au contraire, pour tromper et détruire. Il explique, en effet, que le fait de discuter peut être le meilleur moyen de détruire son ennemi avec ruse. Il appuie ses dires en racontant que, quand il combattait les Turcs, il utilisait une « fausse harangue » et un « faux doux parler » (vv. 44–45) afin de les amener à le croire et à lui faire confiance, et ainsi, mieux utiliser leur crédulité et les détruire. Catderousse, de son côté, ne donne aucune importance à la parole, préférant baser son pouvoir sur la force brute. Il explique que l’utilisation de telles ruses ou bien de tels moyens diplomatiques n’est pas nécessaire à partir du moment où un des belligérants est supérieur à l’autre: « mais qui a un bon cœur et les armes au poing/du babil de la langue, il n’a aucun besoin » (vv. 49–50). Poulin et Catderousse « détruisent » ainsi le discours d’Opède en dénaturant son message. La discussion d’Opède sur la force de la parole démontre à quel point le dilemme entre con- victions profondes et devoir de gouvernance est au cœur de sa réflexion. Il s’exprime à travers deux émotions principales, la culpabilité et la crainte, qui se reflètent dans son discours. Il fait montre de bienveillance envers les Vaudois, se demandant ouvertement « Pourquoi veux-je ce peuple être tout massacré » (v. 117). La description de ces derniers met en avant leur grandeur et leur piété, soulignant également leur rapport particulier avec Dieu et indiquant qu’ils sont le peuple élu: « le ciel leur favorise et m’est du tout contraire./Dieu prend leur cause en main et je les veux défaire » (vv. 117–118). Cette référence, dans le cadre vaudois qu’est cette pièce permet de renforcer l’idée que la ville de Cabrières est choisie de Dieu. Elle met également en avant les contradictions à venir d’Opède, qui, bien qu’il admette que Dieu est du côté de Cabrières, décide néanmoins de le détruire par la suite. Le discours émotionnel est développé par les nombreuses questions qu’il se pose, les différents appels à sa raison et à ses propres sens qu’il effectue, comme lorsqu’il critique sa « maudite conscience » (v. 116) qui le fait douter. Alors qu’Opède est un magistrat qui pense, Catderousse et Poulin sont de purs exécutants, dont l’obéissance aux ordres est mise en exergue. Ils doivent détruire la ville de Cabrières, car c’est leur devoir de militaire ; cela renforce d’autant plus leur incompréhension d’Opède. Pour eux, les atermoiements émotionnels de celui-ci ne sont pas compréhensibles, puisqu’un Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 9 dirigeant doit agir pour être obéi. Quentin Skinner souligne que, chez Machiavel, « it is better for a ruler to be feared than loved, and better ‘to rely on punishment than considerateness’ in dealing with is subjects » (184). Peut-être Opède est-il leur supérieur ; toutefois, ils considèrent que pouvoir et respect ne sont pas des qualités qui s’obtiennent par décision ou nomination, mais au contraire, par des prouesses sur-le-champ de bataille. Opède ne fait pas montre d’une assurance émotionnelle qui lui permet de diriger au mieux ses troupes ; le doute dont il fait preuve est un frein à son intégration dans le groupe masculin des catholiques. Olivier Millet explique: Opède, qui dirige les troupes, est un magistrat et non un soldat. Il y a là une discon- venance que relèvent, pour s’en gausser, Poulin et Catderousse, à partir de la vieille opposition du « clerc », couard et mal aguerri d’une part, et du gendarme d’autre part. […] L’agir et le parler s’opposent comme la sincérité et la duplicité. (266) Si Opède est bel et bien leur chef, il n’a pas acquis son titre sur un champ de bataille, mais uniquement grâce à son poste de gouvernant. Catderousse et Poulin sont tous deux des exemples de masculinité basée sur leur expérience militaire et la virilité. Opède n’est pas alors « crédible » pour eux, puisqu’il essaie de fuir le combat qui est la base de leur masculinité. S’ils ne le respectaient pas, c’est alors, en partie, que leurs masculinités se dressent en opposition à la sienne. Toutes les attaques et les moqueries de Catderousse et Poulin envers Opède marquent son échec dans ce que Gerry Milligan définit comme leurs « trials of manhood. » (151) Opède, dans leur discours, semble avoir été symboliquement émasculé par leurs idées. Leurs attaques deviennent très virulentes ; ils rient de ses qualités de dirigeant, en appuyant également sur le fait qu’il n’est pas capable d’effectuer les actions de base, comme le fait de combattre (« quel combattant ! »). En deux répliques, ils dénigrent complètement ses idées, avant qu’eux- mêmes se positionnent en tant que véritables chefs qui vont « pousser nos gens » (v. 63) à retourner au combat. Défait, Opède s’enfuit du lieu de l’action: « je me retire à part sans com- pagnie aucune » (v. 56). S’il se retire seul, c’est que ses mots et leur pouvoir n’ont pas trouvé leur public. Un rhéteur sans public a échoué, même si son discours était parfait, car il n’a pas été assez puissant pour retenir l’attention. La rhétorique non belliqueuse d’Opède a donc pareillement échoué. Mathieu-Castellani souligne le fait que le rhéteur doit savoir agir tel un soldat, en expliquant que celui qui a la parole « dispose aussi d’un pouvoir analogue à celui que confèrent les armes ; et son activité, dans la défense comme dans l’attaque, est celle d’un soldat qui doit se rendre maitre d’un ennemi. » En faisant taire Opède, Poulin et Catderousse ont symboliquement tué son discours, mais également le bagage émotionnel que ce dernier avait commencé à mettre en avant pour proposer un autre modèle de gouvernance. Il est alors sans paroles et réduit au silence. Ses mots n’ont plus aucune sorte de puissance ou de force à leurs yeux puisque sa voix de dirigeant a été réduite au silence ; elle ne peut, dès lors, être suivie, puisqu’elle « abdique » devant Catderousse et Poulin. Ils ne le respectent pas plus qu’ils ne respectent son discours ou sa parole. Alors qu’Opède a clairement exposé et défendu ses émotions, cela n’a pas insufflé chez ses hommes, comme il l’espérait, une vision différente de ce qu’un gouvernant pourrait être. Au contraire, ils interprètent le message et les émotions qu’il transmet comme un signe de couardise et de faiblesse: « mais sur tous les poltrons, le poltron est si lâche/qu’en lieu des premiers êtres, il s’enfuit et se cache ! » (vv. 59–60) Ils considèrent qu’Opède fuit ses respon- sabilités de pseudo-chef en repoussant l’inévitable, à savoir la destruction de la ville assiégée. C’est cette impossibilité à être accepté qui déclenche son changement abrupt. Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 10 IV. Le nouvel Opède: masculinité belliqueuse et changements émotionnels Après avoir été poussé à bout par les insinuations et les critiques de ses hommes, Opède effec- tue une introspection. Il se rend compte des multiples défaites qu’il a subies, sur le plan de sa parole, de sa gouvernance, ainsi que de sa masculinité. Il se retrouve confronté à un choix difficile, à savoir celui de défendre sa parole, sa pensée et ses émotions, quitte à échouer et à continuer d’être la risée de ses collègues, ou au contraire embrasser leurs desiderata pour devenir le dirigeant qu’ils s’attendent à avoir. Il explique qu’il ne peut pas choisir, et surtout qu’il ne peut plus reculer, étant donné les responsabilités qui lui ont été confiées: « désister je ne veux et je ne puis » (v. 130). On assiste à un renversement complet de son comportement et à un renversement rhétorique de sa parole. Bien que le début de son monologue se focalise particulièrement sur Cabrières, le discours d’Opède change complètement dans II, pour être principalement dirigé envers lui-même.17 Alors que dans I, sa présence dans le texte consiste en quatre « je » et deux « me/m’ » ; dans la partie II, on assiste à une explosion des marqueurs de sa présence (treize « je/j’ » et dix « me/ ma/moi »). Le renversement des questions rhétoriques, qui étaient précédemment utilisées afin de souligner la grandeur des Vaudois, met cette fois en avant la grandeur de ses propres actions. En se remémorant ses victoires précédentes, il en arrive à se demander si elles ont été bénéfiques pour lui, vu qu’il doit toujours prouver ses qualités: « Ai-je donc détruit tant d’hommes et de lieux,/pour être pitoyable en lieu de furieux ? » (vv. 153–54) À partir de ce moment, Opède met en avant sa dimension militaire: Que me serviroit il qu’au lieu d’un bonnet rond De cest armet doré ie me couvre le front ? Au lieu de ma grand’ robbe avoir ceste cuirasse ? Pour la plume en la main ceste pesante masse ? Suis Je quitant ma mule armé sur ce roussin Pour m’enfuir en lieu d’attendre & veoir la fin Ay ie bruslé Pepin la Motte Saint Estienne Lormarin, Valelaure & la Roche prochaine Foudroyé Cabrierette abysmé Merindol Saccagé Saint Martin ay je ravi d’un vol Vingt bourgs villes chasteaux les ay mis en braise Comme n’ayans servi iamais que de fournaise Ay je donques destruit tant d’hommes & de lieux Pour estre pitoyable en lieu de furieux Afin qu’en espargnant ce reste de Canailles Ie leur quicte le fruit de toutes mes batailles Seroit ce bien à la fin que ce que J’ay gaigné Soit à mon ennemy pour l’avoir espargné (vv. 141–58). Dans ce passage, j’ai mis en italiques toutes les références militaires. On observe au début un questionnement qui met en parallèle son rôle de président, avec un vocabulaire soulignant la dimension cléricale de son poste (« bonnet rond, » « grande robbe, » « plume »), qui est immédi- atement mis en opposition avec celui du soldat (« armet doré, » « cuirasse, » « pesante masse »). Ses exploits militaires passés sont illustrés par le grand nombre de villes et villages qu’il a détruits 17 Pour rendre les explications qui suivent plus simples, j’ai partagé le discours d’Opède en deux parties. La première, notée I, couvre les vers 115 à 129 ; la seconde, notée II, les vers 130 à 174. Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 11 (« […] la Motte Saint Estienne/Lormarin, Valelaure et la Roche prochaine/foudroyée Cabrierette abysmé Merindol/Saccagé Saint Martin ay je ravi d’un vol/vingt bourgs villes chasteaux »). Opède n’est plus mesuré et ne prône plus le dialogue ; il est maintenant un homme sûr de lui qui préconise une solution violente au siège. Quand il se demande « Ay je donques destruit tant d’hommes & de lieux/pour estre pitoyable en lieu de furieux », c’est précisément les deux facettes de sa personnalité — celle d’avant son changement et celle d’après sont mises en rela- tion. La pitié qu’il ressentait envers les Vaudois se transforme, à ce moment précis, en colère furieuse. Le caractère protéiforme du changement de la personnalité d’Opède (émotionnel, intellectuel et masculin) se met en place par le biais de son discours qui connaît, lui aussi, un bouleversement de telle sorte. Mathieu-Castellani explique que la rhétorique « souligne l’importance des passions dans l’écriture du discours, dans sa lecture et sa réception critique » (25). Dans le cas d’Opède, son changement se voit au niveau du texte, mais également dans la remise en question totale de sa personnalité. Afin de devenir véritablement le chef des troupes catholiques, il a dû se glisser dans un moule de pouvoir et d’émotion qui leur convenait afin d’obtenir leur agrément nécessaire à leur participation à son action. Anna Becker estime que « the most important thing a new ruler can do in order to transform himself is imitare » (74). En imitant ses hommes, dans sa façon de penser et d’agir, Opède devient le dirigeant qu’ils s’attendaient à avoir depuis le début. Il se coule dans la nécessité de son poste, pour lequel il adopte le même type de discours plein de moquerie et de haine envers les Vaudois que Catderousse et Poulin avaient envers lui-même. Il répète même son objectif qui se teint même d’une sorte de nécessité, dans sa réplique qui suit une tirade particulièrement belliqueuse de Catderousse. Catderousse exhorte les troupes au massacre: « Piquez donques avant » (v. 198) ; « Harquebusiers, tirez, vous trainans sur le ventre » (203) ; « Je crie au cannonier qu’il redou- ble la bresche » (v. 207) sa parole et sa masculinité sont au service de son devoir, celui de motiver les hommes par sa personnalité d’homme fort et par ses dires. Le « nouvel » Opède, alors, après avoir confessé à lui-même son changement, doit en faire la preuve à Catderousse. C’est, je crois, le sens crucial qu’il faut donner aux deux vers qui concluent momentanément son discours, avant l’intervention du chœur et le long épisode au cours duquel Poulin se rend dans Cabrières pour parlementer: « car j’ay juré que vif nul n’en eschappera,/hommes, femmes, enfans, tout meurtri sera » (vv. 241–2). Le verbe « jurer » donne une connotation sacrée à sa déclaration. L’impiété du chef catholique, qui voue aux gémonies les Vaudois, en travaillant à leur éradication complète (Opède indique que personne dans le village ne doit survivre), souligne l’engagement définitif de la nouvelle masculinité d’Opède. En faisant cette déclaration devant Catderousse, il jure devant témoin de mettre en avant et de respecter ses engagements et son nouveau changement. Alors qu’il admirait les Vaudois pour leur courage et leur piété, il les qualifie dorénavant de « canailles » (v. 155). Dans le Thresor de la langue française (1559), Aimar de Raçonnet définit ce terme comme « canes, faex civitatis » (chiens, fange de la cité).18 Opède associe désormais les Vaudois à des animaux, en les faisant passer du parangon du courage à l’état de créatures moins qu’humaines qui doivent être détruites (« sus, sus, sus ! », v. 163) il se construit en tant qu’homme « brutal » afin de pouvoir s’assumer en tant que leader, et particulièrement afin d’être accepté par Catderousse et Poulin. L’une des composantes essentielles de l’idée de masculinité est celle de la sexualité. Ces deux éléments sont indissociables l’un de l’autre et le changement d’Opède n’échappe pas à cette relation. Il remercie « ceste grand’ Courtisane à qui mon bien j’impute » (v. 164). Le mot « courtisane », utilisé ici afin de désigner l’Église Catholique, était doté de nombreuses connotations qu’il convient de mentionner. L’Inventaire des deux langues, Française et Latine 18 Ma traduction. Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 12 (1636) donne de courtisane la définition suivante: « […] la Dame, Damoiselle ou chapper- onniere suyvant la court d’un Prince. […]Mais l’italien […] luy a donné une signification odieuse, appelant Cortigiana une putain de réputation » (161). Définir la courtisane était donc, à l’époque, une tâche qui demandait un certain tact. En italien, le terme porte en lui cette dimension trouble, entre prostituée et dame de cour. Baldasserre Castiglione, dans son Il Cortegiano, utilise en effet le terme « cortigiana » avec grande parcimonie, le remplaçant dans son livre IV par celui plus consensuel et moins connoté sexuelle- ment de « donna di palazzo » (264). Dans le cas de Cabrières, une œuvre vaudoise, cette « grand courtisane » est une référence directe à la grande prostituée de Babylone, tirée de l’Apocalypse de Saint-Jean, et qui était, dans l’idéologie réformée, associée à l’Église catholique. Dans l’optique qui est mienne, le genre de la courtisane est crucial à prendre en considération afin de comprendre l’ultime étape de changement d’Opède. Lawrence Kritzmann explique que « les hommes doivent épouser une femme “un peu putain” » afin de pouvoir mettre en avant leur masculinité et surtout leur virilité (192). Le rapport qu’Opède indique avoir avec elle (« à qui mon bien j’impute ») marque la preuve de sa virilité, et une étape d’importance dans sa définition en tant qu’homme viril. La courti- sane était une prostituée dont les clients se trouvaient chez les puissants. En embrassant l’attirance sexuelle de celle-ci, il a montré qu’il n’était pas impotent, mais au contraire, qu’il était un « vrai » homme, sans qu’aucun doute puisse être permis, rejetant ainsi les doutes et les réserves de ses subalternes. En d’autres termes, l’Église en tant que femme à qui il veut plaire lui a permis, en justifiant les actions entreprises contre les rebelles vaudois, de se vider des émotions coupables qui obscurcissaient son horizon. En s’affirmant ainsi, il devient le chef militaire instruisant ses armées de sa volonté (« voilà comme je suis général capitaine/de tout ce camp », vv. 171–72). À travers l’influence de cette femme Église, il ne se féminise pas, mais au contraire, il repousse les émotions qui le décrédibilisaient aux yeux de ses subalternes. Opède a opéré un change- ment radical dans la façon d’appréhender ses émotions de doute, allant même jusqu’à ignorer celles-ci, afin de se focaliser sur d’autres qui lui permettent de devenir une part entière du groupe par lequel il voulait se faire respecter. Opède n’est pas le seul personnage qui opère un changement de sa personnalité, vis-à-vis des émotions qu’il ressent envers les Vaudois ; Poulin voit également sa personnalité évoluer au cours de la tragédie, selon un schéma opposé à celui d’Opède. Il veut renforcer sa person- nalité de chef afin d’être accepté par ses hommes et adopte une masculinité dure et violente. Poulin change la sienne en prenant un chemin inverse, passant de la haine du Vaudois à la bienveillance et à l’envie. Toutefois, ce dernier ne prend pas véritablement position, ne mettant pas véhémentement sa nouvelle position en avant. Là où le changement d’Opède s’accompagnait d’une déclaration marquante de sa part, Poulin, après sa conversion, se mon- tre beaucoup moins virulent que son supérieur ne l’a été pour défendre sa nouvelle foi, répon- dant simplement par un laconique « Je ne seray de vous et moins d’eux le tueur » (v. 1247). De plus, quand bien même son séjour chez les Vaudois l’a changé, il n’est pas accepté par ceux-ci qui se réjouissent même de sa mort, vu qu’ils le considèrent être responsable de leur chute: « Son âme misérable, et à table mangeant/bien tost il la rendra, furieux enrageant » (vv. 1684–85). Contrairement à Opède, la « greffe » de Poulin n’a pas été couronnée de succès. Il me semble que cet échec de Poulin met en relief une vérité importante de l’implication émotionnelle dans un groupe: il faut que les deux parties, à savoir le groupe qui reçoit, ainsi que celui qui veut le rejoindre, soient en accord. Les Vaudois n’ont pas considéré que Poulin était pleinement investi dans son projet, parce qu’il ne l’a pas ouvertement déclaré, soit aux témoins de ses actions (le public), soit à ceux qu’il voulait convaincre. Sa seule bonne volonté qu’il y a mise et, par-dessus tout, et la dimension noble de son changement, ne sont pas au niveau de l’implication qu’a mise Opède dans son action, aussi mauvaise soit-elle. Seul un Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 13 complet abandon de son être et de sa personnalité permet au changement de se réaliser et d’être efficace. Le changement d’Opède marque la mise à mort des Vaudois. La masculinité bienveillante et intellectuelle est détruite et éclate au profit d’une nouvelle personnalité vide de réflex- ion, pleine de vice et de haine, pour laquelle l’application de la loi est plus importante que l’écoute de ses propres émotions. Par l’opposition entre les deux personnalités d’Opède, c’est un plaidoyer pour le droit des vaudois à vivre — et contre l’action des troupes royales, telle- ment contre nature et contre Dieu qu’elle force un changement complet de ce qu’un homme est — qui est mis en avant dans la tragédie. Références Arché, Guy-Jean. Le Massacre des Vaudois du Lubéron. Aubenas: Curandera, 1984. Imprimé. Aristote. La Poétique, Dupont-Roc, R. et Lallo, J. (Éds.). Paris: Seuil, 1980. Imprimé. Aristote. La Rhétorique. Éd. et trad. Médéric Dufour. Paris: Belles Lettres, 2002. Imprimé. Arnaud, Eugène. Histoire des protestants de Provence, du Comtat Venaissin et de la Principauté d’Orange. Paris, 1884. Imprimé. Aubéry, Jacques. Histoire de l’exécution de Cabrières et de Mérindol et d’autres lieux de Provence, Audisio, Gabriel (Éd.). Paris: Les Éditions de Paris, 1995–1645. Imprimé. Audisio, Gabriel. Procès-verbal d’un massacre. Les vaudois du Lubéron (avril 1545). Aix-en- Provence: EDISUD, 1992. Imprimé. Audisio, Gabriel. The Waldensian Dissent. Persecution and Survival, c.1170–c.1570. Trad. Claire Davison. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999. Imprimé. DOI: https://doi. org/10.1017/CBO9781139163934 Baretaud, Anne. « Le Récit comme acte dans les tragédies bibliques du XVIe siècle. » Loxias, 12. Loxias. Web. 23 février, 2017, 2006. Becker, Anna. “Rethinking Masculinity and Feminity in Niccolò Macchiavelli’s Political Thought.” L’Homme. Europäische Zeitschrift für Feministische Geschischtswissenschaft, 23(2): 65–78, 2012. Imprimé. Bérard, Alexandre. Les Vaudois, leur histoire sur les deux versants des Alpes du IVe siècle au XVIIIe siècle. Lyon, 1892. Imprimé. Brittan, Arthur. « Masculinities and Masculinism. » The Masculinities Reader, Whitehead, Stephen M. et Frank, J. (Éds.), 51–55. Barrett. Malden, Blackwell, 2001. Imprimé. Castiglione, Baldassere. Il Libro del Cortegiano, Longo, Nicola (Éd.). introduction de Amedeo Quondam. Milan: Garzanti, 1981. Imprimé. Connell, R. W. Masculinities. Berkeley: University of California Press, 2005. Imprimé. De La Taille, Jean. De l’art de la tragédie. Saül le furieux. La famine ou les gabéonites, Forsyth, Elliott (Éd.). Paris: Marcel Didier, 1968. Imprimé. Drévillon, Hervé. « Du Guerrier au militaire. » Histoire de la virilité  Vol.1: de l’Antiquité aux Lumières, l’invention de la virilité, Vigarello, Georges, et al. (Éds.), 293–325. Paris: Le Seuil, 2011. Imprimé. Garnier, Robert. Les Juives. Jeanneret, Michel (Éd.). Paris: Éditions Gallimard, 2007. Imprimé. Haly, Josiane. « Le Casse-tête de la traduction du mot “gender” en français. » ILCEA, 3: 113–26, 2002. Imprimé. Jung, Marc-René. Hercule dans la littérature française du XVIe siècle. Genève: Droz, 1966. Imprimé. Kritzman, Lawrence D. « La Virilité et ses “autres.” La Représentation de la masculinité paradoxale. » Histoire de la virilité, 195–216. Imprimé. La Tragédie du sac de Cabrières, Bocassini, Daniella (Éd.). Théâtre français de la Renaissance, La Tragédie à l’époque d’Henri  II et de Charles IX, 1566–1567, 3. Reynolds, Régine, et al. (Éds.). 3. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 205–78, 1998. Imprimé. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139163934 DOI: https://doi.org/10.1017/CBO9781139163934 Morand Métivier: La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac De Cabrières 14 LaGuardia, David. Intertextual Masculinity in French Renaissance Literature: Rabelais, Brantôme and the Cent nouvelles nouvelles. Burlington and London: Ashgate, 2008. Imprimé. Matthieu-Castellani, Gisèle. La Rhétorique des passions. Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2000. Imprimé. DOI: https://doi.org/10.3917/puf.mathi.2000.01 Millet, Olivier. « Vérité et mensonge dans la Tragédie du sac de Cabrières: une dramaturgie de la parole en action. » Australian Journal of French Studies, 21(3): 259–73, 1994. Imprimé. DOI: https://doi.org/10.3828/AJFS.31.3.259 Milligan, Gerry. “Masculinity and Macchiavelli: How a Prince should Avoid Effeminacy, Perform Manliness, and be Wary of the Author.” Seeking Real Truths. Multidisciplinary Per- spectives on Macchiavelli, Vilches, Patricia et Seaman, Gerald (Éds.), 149–72. Leiden: Brill, 2007. Imprimé. Morand Métivier, Charles-Louis. Apprendre des massacres: émotions et nation dans la littéra- ture du Moyen-âge et de la Renaissance. Diss. University of Pittsburgh, 2013. Imprimé. Mosse, George L. The Image of Man: the Creation of Modern Masculinity. New York: Oxford University Press, 1996. Imprimé. Peletier, Jacques. Art poétique. Traités de poétique et de rhétorique de la Renaissance, Goyet, Francis (Éd.). Paris: Librairie générale de France, 1990. Imprimé. Raçonnet, Aymar de. Thresor de la langue françoyse, tant ancienne que moderne, 1606. Imprimé. Reeser, Todd W. Masculinities in Theory. Chichester: Wiley-Blackwell, 2010. Imprimé. DOI: https://doi.org/10.1002/9781444317312 Reiss, Timothy. « 1553, mars, les origines de la tragédie francaise. » De la littérature française, Hollier, Denis (Éd.), 200–5. Bordas, 1989. Imprimé. Skinner, Quentin. The Foundations of Modern Political Thought: The Renaissance. 1. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1978. Imprimé. Supple, Jamie. Arms versus Letters: Military and Literary Ideals in the “Essais” of Montaigne. Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1984. Imprimé. Tory, Geoffroy. Champ Fleury. Paris, 1529. Imprimé. Vigarello, Georges. « La Virilité moderne. Convictions et questionnements. » Histoire de la virilité, 185–94. Imprimé. How to cite this article: Morand Métivier, C-L 2018 La Construction de la Masculinité dans la Tragédie du Sac de Cabrières: Le Cas d’Opède. Modern Languages Open, 2018(1): 10, pp. 1–14, DOI: https://doi.org/10.3828/mlo.v0i0.171 Published: 22 March 2018 Copyright: © 2018 The Author(s). This is an open-access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International License (CC-BY 4.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original author and source are credited. See http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/. OPEN ACCESS Modern Languages Open is a peer-reviewed open access journal published by Liverpool University Press. https://doi.org/10.3917/puf.mathi.2000.01 https://doi.org/10.3828/AJFS.31.3.259 https://doi.org/10.1002/9781444317312 https://doi.org/10.3828/mlo.v0i0.171 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/4.0/ I. Opède, entre figure historique et personnage théâtral II. La masculinité d’Opède, nœud central des critiques et des questionnements III. Discours et rhétoriques émotionnels dans la construction de la masculinité IV. Le nouvel Opède: masculinité belliqueuse et changements émotionnels Références 
work_mlzv72m2obfrtdzmuh7mcmfqfe	----	PII: 0315-0860(79)90121-6 98 Abstracts #951-1047 HM6 ABSTRACTS The purpose of this department is to give sufficient infor- mation about the subject matter of each'publication to enable users to decide whether to read it. It is our intention to cover all books, articles, and other matherials in the field. Books for abstracting and eventual review should be sent to this department, ---- with an extra copy sentdirectly to the editor --- of the Book Reviews Department if the publisher wishes0 ---____ accelerate the process. -- Materials should be sen=toFAlbert C T. Lewis, Humanities Research Centre, Box 7219, Austin, TX 78712. Readers are invited to send reprints, autoabstracts, correc- tions, additions, and notices of publications that have been overlooked. Be sure to include complete bibiographic informa- tion, as well as transliteration and translation for non- European languages. We need volunteers willing to cover one or more journals for this department. The indexing terms (in capitals) refer only to aspects of the publication of interest to historians of mathematics, including some topics in general history of science and histori- ography, but not other topics unless there is a fairly close link with mathematics or its history. MR 46 #3255 means that the item is numbered 3255 in volume 46 of Mathematical Reviews. RZ 1973 #3A14 means that the item is numbered 3A14 in the third number of the 1973 volume of the Referativny Zhurnal. Z 50 4 means volume 50, page 4 of the Zentralblatt. Isis 102, 45 means item 45 in the 102nd Isis Critical Bibliography. In order to facilitate reference and indexing, entries are given serial numbers which appear at the end following the symbol #. The serial numbers of books are underlined. A name in parentheses at the end of an entry indicates the abstractor. In this issue there are abstracts by S. Kotz, D-E. Kullman, A.C. Lewis, L.F. Meyers, E.R. Phillips, and H.S. Tropp. 0315-0860/79/010098-08$02,00/O Copyright @ 1979 by Academic Press, Inc. All rights qf reproduction in any ,form reserlxed. HM6 Abstracts #951-960 99 CLAGETT MARSHALL editor 1978 ARCHIMEDES in the middle ages. Volume 3: The fate of the medieval Archimedes 1300 to 1565. Vol. 125, Memoirs of the American Philoso- phical Society. Philadelphia, (The American Philosophical Society). 4 parts in 3 vols. (1582 PP). Part I: The Moerbeke translations at Paris in the fourteenth century. Part II: The Arabo-Latin and handbook traditions of Archimedes in the fourteenth and early fifteenth centuries. Part III: The medieval Archimedes in the Renaissance, 1450-1565. Part IV: Appendixes, bibliography, diagrams, and indexes. Earlier volumes abstracted in #302. This volume concludes the author's "direct investigation" of Archimedean traditions in the Middle Ages. (ACL). #951 -. HBYRUP ELSE 1978 WOMEN AND MATHEMATICS, sciences and engineering, a partially annotated bibliography with emphasis on mathematics and with references on related topics. Skriftserie fra Roskilde Universitetsbibliotek 4. Denmark (Roskilde University Library). 62 PP. Approximately 350 authors are represented, subject arranged with an author index. The address of the author, who is continuing this work, is: Bdgevej 8, DK 3500 Vaerldse, Denmark. (ACL). J952. ABBOTT J C 1978 The CHAUVENET PAPERS: A collection of prize-winning expository papers in mathematics. The Mathematical Association of America. 2 vols. A history of the CHAUVENET PRIZE is given. Each of the 24 papers is preceded by a short account of the author. (ACL). #953. POVZI? JOfE 1978 Bibliografija Franca Horevarja; FRANC HOFEVAR--BIBLIOGRAPHY. Ljubljana, Yugoslavia (Slovenska Akademiia Znanosti in Umetnosti). 35 PP. A 3-page introduction to the life and work of Horevar, 1853-1919, is given, also in English. The bibliography includes his 20 major works and nearly 200 different editions of his textbooks in mathematics. Portrait. (ACL). t-954. ISTORIKO-MATEMATICHESKIE ISSLEDOVANIYA 1977 Vol. 22. Moscow (Nauka). 304 pp. The volume includes 23 articles, memoirs and translations, and a name index. Individual articles are abstracted below. (ERP). #955. KORENTSOVA M M 1977 Kinematiko-geometricheskaya model analiza v "Traktate o Fluksiyakh" K. Maklorina In #955 g-33.'" k' inematic-geometric model in Maclaurin's "Treatise on Fluxions"). in "A Treatise oniXIONS," C. MACLAURIN's geometric-synthetic method as presented and its role in the development of INFINITESIMAL ANALYSIS. The method is related to other theories of infinitesimals in particular to the DIFFERENTIAL CALCULUS of W. LEIBNIZ. (ERP). #956. ZHURVASKII A M 1977 K istorii ryada Lagranzha (On the history of LAGRANGE's series). In #955, 34-45. In 1769 Lagrange introduced series in attempting to solve equations. Subsequent related investigations made by J. LAMBERT, A. CAUCHY, P. CHEBYSHEV, and his students, E. ZOLOTAREV, Y. SOKHOTSKII and P. NEKRASOV, are described. (ERP). #957. GERONIMUS Y A 1977 K istorii kvadraturnoi formuly P.L. Chebysheva (On the history of Chebyshev's quadrature formulas). In #955, 46-64. The QUADRATURE FORMULA of P. CHEBYSHEV (1874) and related investigations and applications (up to 1972). GAUSS-CHRISTOFFEL formulas, A.N. KRYLOV and shipbuilding, S.N. BERNSTEIN, N.I. AKHIEZER, ORTHOGONAL POLYNOMIALS. (ERP). #958. GOLOVINSKII I A 1977 Iz istorii interpolyntsionykh ryadov (From the history of INTERPOLATION SERIES). In #m, 65-81. A survey of interpolation methods up to the beginning of the 19th century. Series introduced by I. NEWTON, B. TAYLOR, P. LAPLACE and N. ABEL and their consideration by other mathematicians, such as J. LAGRANGE and L. EULER. (ERP). #959. KURDYUMOVA A I 1977 Ekstraordinarnye integraly Koshi (The EXTRAORDINARY INTEGRAL of CAUCHY). In #955, 82-84. This integral was first introduced in an attempt to extend the definition of the GAMMA-FUNCTION to negative values of the argument. It is seen as a precursor of the 20th century concept of a GENERALIZED FUNCTION. (ERP). #960. LYUSTERNIK L A & PETROVA S S 1977 Iz istorii simbolicheskovo ischisleniya (From the history of symbolic calculus). In #955, 85-101. The works of French mathematicians of the late 18th and early 19th centuries on operations induced by differentiation. 100 Abstracts #961-973 HM6 LINEAR DIFFERENTIAL EQUATIONS, FINITE DIFFERENCES. J. LAGRANGE, P. LAPLACE, L. ARBOGAST, B. BRISSON, F. SERVOIS, A. CAUCHY, and D. GREGORY. (ERP). #961. REIZIN L E 1977 Iz istorii obshchei teorii obyknovennykh differentsialnykh uravnennii (On the history of the theory of ordinary differential equations). In #955, 102-110. Differentiability and continuity of solutions of DIFFERENTIAL EQUA- TIONS with respect to parameters and initial conditions. Extension of solutions. Non-integral contractions and expansions of manifolds. P. BOHL, F. SCHUR, G. PEANO, V. STEPANOV, H. POINCARE, 0. PERRON, C. SIEGEL, G. BIRKHOFF, and others. (ERP). #962. VISGIN V P 1977 Vzaimosvyaz fiziki i matematiki v XIX veke (The relationship between physics and mathematics in the 19th century). In #955, 11-126. Broad survey including a chronological chart listing the major results in PHYSICS and their corresponding influence on mathematics. (ERP). #963. YUSHKEVICH A P 1977 0 matematicheskikh rukopisyakh I. Nyutona (On the mathematical manuscripts of I. Newton). In #955, 127-192. An analysis of the published mathematical works (1664-1684) of I. NEWTON, based mainly on the recently published D. WHITESIDE edition. (ERP). #964. MELNIKOV I G 1977 Metod beskonechnovo spuska (The METHOD of INFINITE DESCENT). In #955, 193-199. Examples found in the works of EUCLID, 3. CAMPANUS, P. FERMAT, L. EULER, and others. (ERP). #965. MAISTROV L E 1977 0 veroyatnostmoi kontseptsii Pascalya u A. Reni (On Pascal's concept of probability, according to A. RBnyi). In #955, 200-211. Objections are raised to A. RENYI's reconstruction of a non-existing letter from B. PASCAL to P. FERMAT on the subject of PROBABILITY. Pascal's conception of PROBABILITY. (ERP). #966. SHEINEN 0 B 1977 Teoriya veroyatnostei P.S. Laplasa (Laplace's theory of probability). In #955, 212-224. LAPLACE's contributions to the general theory of PROBABILITY, his philosophical DETERMINISM, probabilistic ideas in physics. (ERP). #967. YURKINA M I 1977 Vklad Eilera i Gaussa v reshenie zadach o schete vysot (The contributions of EULER and GAUSS to the solution of the problem of calculating altitude) In #955, 225-228. Theory of POTENTIAL. GEODESY. (ERP). #968. SLAVUTIN E I 1977 0 "Dannykh" Evklida (EUCLID's "DATA"). In #955, 229-236. The first 23 problems in the DATA, stated by Euclid in the language of the THEORY OF PROPORTIONS, are translated into the language of linear functions. (ERP). $969. SIMONOV R A 1977 0 formirovanii drevnerusskoi numeratsii (On the development of NUMERATION in medieval Russia). In #955, 237-241. The replacement of Byzantine signs by Cyrillic letters to designate numbers. (ERP). #970. ALEKSANDROV P S 1977 Vospominaniya o Gettingene (Recollections of GGTTINGEN). In #955, 242-244. An account by the noted topologist of his visits to Gtlttingen throughout the 1920s and 193Os, and again after the war. D. HILBERT, E. NOETHER, H. HOPF, A. KUROSH. (ERP). #971. GELFOND A 0 1977 Nekotorye vpechatleniya o nauchnoi poezdke v Germaniyu v 1930 g (Some impressions of a scientific trip to Germany in 1930). In #955, 246-251. Among those in GOTTINGEN at that time were D. HILBERT, H. WEYL, R. COURANT, E. LANDAU, E. NOETHER, B. L. VAN DER WAERDEN, E. ARTIN, H. HAASE, K. FRIEDRICHS, H. LEVI, 0. NEUGEBAUER, and many others! (ERP). #972. SHTYKAN A B 1977 0 nekotorykh voprosakh istorii matematicheskovo analiza i evolyutsii sredstv vychislenii (Some questions in the history of ANALYSIS and the evolution of the methods of CALCULATION). In #955, 252-273. Discoveries made by I. NEWON, C. HUYGENS, W. LEIBNIZ, and the BERNOULLI brothers in the area of QUADRATURES and CUBATURES and their role in the development of the INFINITESIMAL CALCULUS. The author claims that these discoveries have not been taken into account in the generally accepted histories of this subject. BIBLIOGRAPHY. (ERP). #973. HM6 Abstracts #974-985 101 LEIBNIZ G W 1977 Supplementurn geometriae dimensoriae, seu generalissima omnium tetragonismorum effectio per motum, similiterque multiplex constructio lineae ex data tangentium conditione (translated into Russian and annotated by A.B. SHTYKAN). In #955, 274-285. Written in 1693, this paper contains a description of a mechanical scheme related to the process of integration. It is discussed in #973. (ERP). #974. HUYGENS C 1977 Pismo k avtoru (A letter to the author). In E, 286-288. Translated by A.B. Shtykin, with notes. MECHANICAL METHOD for tracing a TRACTRIX. This letter is discussed in #973. (ERP). #975. BERNOULLI JOH. 1977 Solutio problematis Cartesio propositi Dn. de Beaune (transla- ted from the Latin by A.B. Shtykan and O.A. Petrova, with notes). In #955, 289-291. ISOCLINE curves. Discussed in #973. (ERP). #9?6. BERNOULLI JAC. 1977 Solutio problematis Fraterni ante octiduum Lipsiam transmissi (translated from the Latin by A.B. Shtykan, with notes). In #955, 292-294. A mechanism is described for a geometric construction of a curve if properties of the tangent are given. Discussed in #973. (ERP). #977. DIOPHANTUS 1975 Sina't al-Gabr 1'Diophantus (The art of algebra by Diophantus). Cairo: L'Organisme Egyptien du Livre. 253 pp. Contains the text of DIOPHANTUS' four books of arithmetic, the only known translation of which is this Arabic one of the 10th century. Roshdi Rashed, the editor, also provides an introduction. See the critical review in Isis 68, 627-630. (ACL). #978. TARWATER DALTON editor 1977 The bicentennial tribute to American mathematics, 1776-1976. Papers presented at the fifty-ninth annual meeting of the Mathematical Association of America commemorating the nation's Bicentennial. (Math. Assoc. of America). 225 pp. Seven major papers in history of AMERICAN MATHEMATICS are presented. Those not previously published elsewhere and abstracted are abstracted below. The historical papers are followed by proceedings of panel discussions ana a brief account of the last 10 years of TWO-YEAR COLLEGE MATHEMATICS. (ACL). $979. GRABINER JUDITH V 1977 Mathematics in America: The first hundred years. In #979, 9-24. The factors in AMERICAN MATHEMATICS, 1776 to 1886, are described which led to a mature mathematical community by the 1890s. (ACL). #980. BIRKHOFF GARRETT 1977 Some leaders in AMERICAN MATHEMATICS: 1891-1941. In #979, 25-78. An account of some 40 mathematicians is given in the context of the growth of American mathematics. Of special value are the recollections, some recorded here for the first time, of the author's own experiences and of his father G.D. BIRKHOFF. (ACL). #981. REES MINA S 1977 Mathematics and the GOVERNMENT: The post-war years as augury of the future. In #979, 101-116. Emphasis is given in this account to the beginnings of substantial government support of mathematical research principally through the Office of Scientific Research and Development, and the Office of Naval Research whose Mathematics Branch the author headed. (ACL). #982. HAMMING R W 1977 The history of COMPUTING in the United States. In #979, 117-128. With some historiographical remarks, a chronological account is given of the "hardware," "software," and uses of computers from the nineteenth century to the present. (ACL). #983. LAX PETER D 1977 The bomb, Sputnik, computers, and European mathematicians. In #979, 129-135. The items listed in the title are, in the author's opinion, "the principal tangible causes" of the changes in AMERICAN MATHEMATICS, 1940-1960. The author also remarks, from a refugee's point of view, on the effect of the periods of antisemitism and McCarthyism. (ACL). U984. RASHED ROSHDI 1974 Les travaux perdus de Diophante (I). Revue d'Histoire des Sciences 27, 97-122. The discovery of the four books of DIOPHANTUS' Arithmetic in Arabic translation causes a reconsideration of the author and his works. The first book is presented here. (ACL). #985. 102 Abstracts #986-1002 HM6 RASHED ROSHDI 1975 Les travaux perdus de Diophante (II). Revue d'Histoire des Sciences 28, 3-30. A continuation of #985 the remaining three books are here presented. (ACL). t98.5. MACK J M 1974 Those numbers and e. Australian Mathematics Teacher 30, 97-105. Based on a talk given to students. (ACL). #987. WATSON JANE M 1974 Three WOMEN of mathematics. Australian Math Teacher 30, 153-160. HYPATIA, M.G. GANESI, EMMY NOETHER. (ACL). #988. BERGHOUT R F 1974 The historical development of magnitudes, ratios, and proportions. Australian Math Teacher 30, 184-196. GREEK MATHEMATICS. (ACL). #989. MACDONALD I D 1976 Modern ALGEBRA in the nineteenth century. Australian Math Teacher 32, 33-38. (ACL). #QQO. MONRO G P 1976 HILBERT and GGDEL: The recent history of the AXIOMATIC METHOD. Australian Math Teacher 32, 103-106. (ACL) . #991. JAIN B S 1977 On the GANITA-SARA-SAMGRAHA of MAHAVIRA (ca. 850 A.D.). Indian Journal of History of Science 12, 17-32. INDIAN, JAINA MATHEMATICS. A commentary on this algebraic and geometrical treatise. (ACL). #992. BAG A K 1977 The method of integral solution of INDETERMINATE EQUATIONS of the type: BY = Ax + C in ancient and medieval INDIA. Indian Journal of History of Science 12, 1-16. ARYABHATA I (476 AD). CONTINUED FRACTIONS. Passages in Sanskrit with English translation are given of the Karanapaddhati (1596 AD?). (ACL). #993. BEHARI RAM & JAIN B S 1977 Some mathematical contributions of ANCIENT INDIAN MATH- EMATICIANS as given in the works of BHASKARACARYA II (12th century A.D.). Indian Journal of History of Science 12, 45-56. Emphasis is given to the cyclic method for solving the quadratic equation, &'x2 + x = Y’. (ACL). #994. JAIN L C 1977 Divergent sequences locating TRANSFINITE SETS in TRILOKASARA. Indian Journal of History of Science 12, 57-75. A Prakit text of the 11th century A.D. is described which parallels the program of G. CANTOR and ZERMELO, that was opposed by BOREL, BAIRE, and LEBESGUE, with respect to well-ordered sequences. (ACL). #995. BORGWANDT HEIDEMAIRE 1975 Die historische Entwicklung der Funktionanalysis zu einer selbstxndigen mathematischen Disziplin. NTM Z. Gesch. Naturwiss. Tech. Med. 12, I-11 (The historical development of FUNCTIONAL ANALYSIS into an independent mathematical discipline.) CB 102, 211. (ACL). #996. MAINZER KLAUS 1976 Das BegrUndungsproblem des mathematischen Kontinuwns in der neuzeitlichen Entwicklung der Grundlagenforschung. Philosophia Naturalis 16, 125-137. (The foundational problem of the mathematical CONTINUUM in the modern development of research in foundations.) CB 102, 224. (ACL). #997. DIBBLE WILLIAM E 1976 A possible PYTHAGOREAN TRIANGLE at Stonehenge. J. History of Astronomy 17, 141-142. CB 102, 689. (ACL). #998. BRUINS EVERT M 1975 The part in ancient EGYPTIAN mathematics. Centaurus 19, 241-251 CB 102, 699. (ACL). #999. PARKER RICHARD A 1975 A mathematical exercise: p. Dem. Heidelberg 663. J. of Egyptian Archaeology 61, 189-196. CB 102, 701. (ACL) . #lOOO. SESIANO JACQUES 1975 The Arabic text of Books IV to VII of DIOPHANTUS' Arithemtica in the translation of Qustl Ibn Ldql, with translation and commentary. 438 pp. Dissertation at Brown University, 1975. (Dissertation Abstracts 37: 555-A. Order No. 76-15, 709). (ACL). #lOOl. GUINIVEN JOHN J 1975 Mathematical ontology in ARISTOTLE. 154 pp. Dissertation at the Univ. of Massachusetts. (Dissertation Abstracts 36: 6144-A, Order No. 76-5338.) (ACL). #1002. HM6 Abstracts #1003-1019 103 KAYAS GEORGES J 1976 Aristote et les gt%m&ries non-euclidiennes avant et aprbs Euclide. Revue des Questions Scientifiques 147: 175-194, 281-301. (ARISTOTLE and NON-EUCLIDEAN GEOMETRY before and after Euclid.) CB 102, 778. (ACL). #1003. McCLAIN ERNEST G 1974 Musical "marriages" in PLATO's Republic. Journal of Music Theory 18, 242-272. MATHEMATICAL ACOUSTICS. CB 102, 782. (ACL) #1004. STAMATAKOS BESS MAKRIS 1975 PLATO's THEORY OF NUMBERS. Dissertation at Michigan State Univ. 163 pp. (Dissertation Abstracts 36: 8117-A. Order No. 76-12527.) (ACL). #1005. WHITE F C 1975 PLATO on GEOMETRY. Apeiron 9, 5-14. CB 102, 800. (ACL). #1006. FREGUGLIA PAOLO 1974 Dsservazioni sul procedimento di Leonardo Pisano per la determinazione di Cultura e Scuola 13, 209-221. CB 102, 914. FIBONACCI. PI. (ACL). #1007. WAGNER DONALD B. 1975 Proof in ANCIENT CHINESE MATHEMATICS: LIU HUI on the volumes of rectilinear solids. Dissertation at University of Copenhagen. 73 pp. CB 102, 1038. (ACL). #1008, COUMET ERNEST 1975 Cryptographie et numerations. Annales: Economies, Socie'tes, Civilizations 30, 1007-1027. CRYPTOGRAPHY. CB 102, 1119. (ACL). #1009. MARGOLIN JEAN-CLAUDE 1976 L'enseignement des mathematiques en France (1540-1570): Charles de Bovelles, Fine, Peletier, Ramus. P., 109-155 in Peter Sharratt (ed.) French Renaissance studies 1540-70. Edinburgh (Univ. Edinburgh Press). CAROL1 BOVILLUS ORONCE FINE. JACQUES PELETIER. PETRUS RAMUS. CB 102, 1132. (ACL). #lOlO. ROSS1 FRANCESCO SAVER10 1974 LEONARDO DA VINCI, studioso e ricercatore delle matematiche. Cultura e Scuola 13, 231-247. CB 102, 1149. (ACL). #loll, ROSS1 FRANCESCO SAVER10 1974 Nicolb Copernico, Matematica: La sua trigonometria sferica. Cultura e Scuola 13, 421-436. NICOLAUS COPERNICUS. CB 102, 1150. (ACL). #1012. VEDRINE H 1976 L'obstacle realiste en mathematiques chez dew philosophes du XVIe siecle: Bruno et Patrizi. Pp. 239-248 in Platon et Aristote a la Renaissance. Paris (Vrin). GIORDANO BRUNO. FRANCESCO PATRIZZI. CB 102, 1154. (ACL). #1013. WALKER D P 1976 La tradition math&aatico-musicale du platonisme et les debuts de la science moderne. Pp. 249-260 in Platen et Aristote a la Renaissance. Paris (Vrin). PLATONISM. MIJSIC. CB 102, 1157. (ACL). u1014. EARMAN JOHN 1975 Infinities, infinitesimals, and indivisibles: The Leibnizian labyrinth. Studia Leibnitiana 7, 236-251. G W LEIBNIZ. CB 102, 1395. (ACL) . #lOlS. MILLER LARRY W 1975 KANT's PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS. Kant-Studien 66, 297-308. CB 102, 1404. (ACL). #1016. MILLIKEN STEPHEN F 1974 BUFFON's Essai d'arithmetique morale. Pp 197-206 in John Pappas (ed.) Essays on Diderot and the Enlightenment, in honor of Otis Fellows. (Histoire des idles et critique litteraire, 140.) Geneva (Droz). CB 102, 1405. (ACL). #1017. KENNEDY HUBERT 1978 Marx's mathematical manuscripts. Science and Nature 1, 59-62. KARL MARX. Annotated BIBLIOGRAPHY of the published manuscripts and 14 works about them. (ACL). #1018. LUTZ L et al. editors 1978 Lexikon des Mittelalters, Bd. 1 agypten-Almohaden. MUnchen/ZUrich: Artemis Verlag. pp. 225-447. The second fascicle; for the first see #?99. (ACL). #1019. 104 Abstracts # 1020-1032 HM6 SCHELLHAS WALTER 1975 Der Rechenmeister Adam Ries (1492 bis 1559) und der Bergbau. NTM-Schriftenr. Gesch. Naturwiss., Technik, Med. 12, 14-37. ADAM RIESE. Riese’s work in MINING, 1524 to 1559, is presented with a bibliography of unpublished and published sources. (ACL) . #1020. ECCARIUS WOLFGANG 1975 Der Techniker und Mathematiker August Leopold Crelle (1780-1855) und sein Beitrag zur Ftirderung und Entwicklung der Mathematik im Deutschland des 19. Jahrhunderts. NTM-Schriftenr. Gesch. Naturwiss., Technik, Med. 12, 38-49. (The engineer and mathematician AUGUST LEOPOLD CRELLE and his contribution to the support and development of mathematics in Germany in the 19th century.) (ACL). #1021. BIERMANN KURT-R 1977 C.F. GAUSS in seinem Verhgltnis zur britischen Wissenschaft end Literatur. NTM-Schriftenr. Gesch. Naturwiss., Technik, Med. 14, 7-15. (CARL FRIEDRICH GAUSS in his relation to British science and literature.) (ACL). ff1022. WATTENBERG, DIEDRICH 1977 Eine Totenmaske Isaac Newtons? NT?&Schriftenr. Gesch. Naturwiss., Technik, Med. 14, 43-46. (A death mask of ISAAC NEWTON?) (ACL). #1023. PAS PETER W. VAN DER 1975 Japanese students of mathematics at the University of Leiden during the Sakoku period. Japanese Studies in the Hist. of Science 14, 109-116. JAPAN. LEIDEN. CB 102, 1410. (ACL). #1024. ROSS RICHARD P 1975 The SOCIAL AND ECONOMIC CAUSES of the revolution in the mathematical sciences in midnineteenth century ENGLAND. Journal of British Studies 15, 46-66. CB 102, 1413. (ACL). #1025. SCHNEIDER IV0 1974 Beziehung zwischen mathematischer Praxis und reiner Mathematik im 17. Jh. Actes XIIIe Gong. Int. Hist. Sci., 1971, 5, 33-40. (Relation between practical mathematics and pure mathematics in the 17th CENTURY.) CB 102, 1414. (ACL) . #1026. SPRINGER VERLAG 1978 MATHEMATICS CALENDAR 1979. A large format, colored, decora- tive calendar selling for $7.50. One topic is illustrated and described for each month, from Sinai’s billiard to Omar Khayyam. (ACL) . #1027. VITA VINCENZO 1975 Gli Elements des coniques di BLAISE PASCAL. Cultura e Scuola 14, 186-200. CB 102, 1418. (ACL) . #1028. YAGLOM I M 1977 FELIX KLEIN and SOPHUS LIE [In Russian]. (Mathematics and Cybernetics, No. 11) Moscow (Znanie). 64 pp. The author describes the interaction between schools of geometric thought in late 19th and early 20th centuries. GALOIS THEORY. B. RIEMANN. K. WEIERSTRASS. LEJEUNE-DIRICHLET. A F MGBIIJS. J. STEINER. C.G.J. JACOBI. A. CAYLEY. (Samuel Katz). #1029. WEXELBLATT RICHARD editor 1978 Preprints: History of Programming Languages Conference. ACM SIGPLAN Notices 13(8), xi + 310 pp. The Conference was held in Los Angeles, June 1-3, 1978. This volume includes a summary of each language presented as well as the historical papers themselves: ALGOL 60 (PERLIS, A., and NAUR, P.); APL (FALKOFF, A.D., and IVERSON, K.E.); APT (ROSS, D.T.); BASIC (KURTZ, T.E.); COBOL (SAMMET, J.E.); FORTRAN (BACKUS, J.); GPSS (GORDON, G.); JOVIAL (SCHWARTZ, J.I.); LISP (MCCARTHY, J.); PL/I (RADIN, G.); SIMULA (NYGAARD, K., and DAHL, O.-J.); and SNOBOL (GRISWOLD, R. E.). (H.S. Tropp). #1030. DAHL AUBREY 1978 The Last of the first. Datamation 24(6), 145-149. A UNIVAC II with its “5200 vacuum tubes, 18,000 chrystal diodes, 184,000 magnetic cores, hundreds of feet of plumbing, and countless miles of wires,” finally retired after 18 years of work. COMPUTERS. (H.S. Tropp). ff1031. LIBES SOL 1978 The first ten years of amateur computing. Byte 3(7), 64,66,68,70-71. Begins with the founding of the AMATEUR COMPUTING SOCIETY and its Newsletter. COMPU- TERS. MICROPROCESSORS, PHOTOGRAPHS. (H.S. Tropp). #1032. ROARK ANNE C 1978 The mathematician who may be this century’s greatest. The Chronicle of Higher Education 17(l), I-10, 11 (Sept. 5). Popular sketch of CHARLES HM6 Abstracts #1033-1047 105 FEFFERMAN, 1978 FIELDS MEDALIST. FOURIER ANALYSIS. AWARDS (H.S. Tropp). #1033. MCALLISTER BYRON L 1978 Hyperspaces and multifunctions, the first half century (1900-1950). Nieuw Archief voor Wiskunde (3) 26, 309-329. "A function f that assigns to each element of a give set X a subset (sometimes possibly empty) of a given set Y is called a multifunction from x into-y." TOPOL?%Y. CONVERGENCE. POMPEIU D. HAUSDORFF F and his METRIC for sets. VIETORIS L. KURATOWSKI K. TIKHONOV A. BIBLIOGRAPHY of 65 items. (Leroy F. Meyers). #1034. . . LUTZEN JESPER 1978 Funktionsbegrebets udvikling fra Euler til Dirichlet (The development of the concept of function from Euler to Dirichlet). Nordisk Matematisk Tidskrift 25/26. 5-32 IEnelish summary on D. 56). In Danish. Whv the modern definition of FUNCTION‘as-correspondence was so'late in replacing EULER's definition as an analytic expression. VIBRATING STRING. D'ALEMBERT. .LAGRANGE. LACROIX S F. FOURIER SERIES. CUACHY. DIRICHLET. (Leroy F. Meyers). #1035. ALEKSANDROV P S et al. 1977 Il'ya Nestorovich Vekua (on his seventieth birthday). Russian Math. Surveys 32 (2), 1-21. VEKUA, I.N., BIOGRAPHY, BIBLIOGRAPHY. ELLIPTIC FUNCTIONS. GENERALIZED ANALYTIC FUNCTIONS. THEORY OF SHELLS. (D.E. Kullman). #1036. BOGOLYUBOV N N et al. 1977 Yurii Alekseevich Mitropol'skii (on his sixtieth birth- day). Russian Math. Surveys 32 (l), 157-170. MITROPOL'SKII, YU. A., BIOGRAPHY, BIBLIOGRAPHY. DIFFERENTIAL EQUATIONS. NON-LINEAR SYSTEMS. (D.E. Kullman). #1037. VOL'PERT A I et al. 1977 Yaroslav Borisovich Lopatinskii (on his seventieth birth- day). Russian Math. Surveys 32 (l), 151-155. LOPATINSKII, YA. B., BIOGRAPHY, BIBLIOGRAPHY. DIFFERENTIAL EQUATIONS. (D.E. Kullman). #1038. BARON S A et al. 1977 In memory of Gunnar Fromkholdovich Kangro. Rusian Math. Surveys 32 (l), 149-150. KANGRO, G.F., OBITUARY. SUMMABILITY. (D.E. Kullman). #1039. KURATOWSKI K & BORSUK K 1978 One hundred volumes of "Fundamenta Mathematicae." Fundamenta Math. 100 (1). l-8. XX. POLISH SCHOOL OF MATHEMATICS. The editors give a brief history of this prominent MATHEMATICS JOURNAL and the culture which nurtured it. Tabular summaries of authors by nationality and of papers by language and topic. (D.E. Kullman). #1040. BASHMAKOVA I G et al. 1977 Adol'f Pavlovich Yushkevich (on his seventieth birth- day). Russian Math. Surveys 32 (3), 145-153. YUSHKEVICH, A. P., BIOGRAPHY, BIBLIOGRAPHY. HISTORIAN OF MATHEMATICS. HISTORIOGRAPHY. (D.E. Kullman). #1041. VLADIMIROV V S et al. 1977 Aleksei Fedorovich Leont'ev (on his sixtieth birthday). Russian Math. Surveys 32(3), 131-144. LEONT'EV, A. F., BIOGRAPHY, BIBLIOGRAPHY. ANALYTIC FUNCTIONS. FUNCTIONAL ANALYSIS. (D.E. Kullman). #1042. ALEKSANDROV P S et al. 1977 Vladimir Aleksandrovich Andrunakievich (on his sixtieth birthday). Russian Math. Surveys 32 (4), 245-251. ANDRUNAKIEVICH, V. A., BIOGRAPHY, BIBLIOGRAPHY. RING THEORY. (D.E. Kullman). #1043. ARKHANGEL'SKII A V et al. 1976 Pave1 Sergeevich Aleksandrov (on his eightieth birthday). Russian Math. Surveys 31 (S), 1-13. ALEKSANDROV, P. S., BIOGRAPHY, PORTRAIT. GENERAL TOPOLOGY. HOMOLOGY THEORY. (D.E. Kullman). #1044. ALEKSANDROV P S et al. 1976 Oleg Nikolaevich Golovin (on his sixtieth birthday). Russian Math. Surveys 32 (4), 221-225. GOLOVIN, 0. N., BIOGRPAHY, BIBLIOGRAPHY. GROUP THEORY. (.D.E. Kullman). #1045. ALEKSANDROV P S et al. 1976 In memory of Sergei Vasilovich Fomin. Russian Math. Surveys 31 (4), 205-220. FOMIN, S. V., BIOGRAPHY, BIBLIOGRAPHY. GENERAL TOPOLOGY. ERGODIC THEORY. GLOBAL ANALYSIS. MATHEMATICAL BIOLOGY. (D.E. Kullman). #1046. LITVINCHUK G S et al. 1976 Fedor Dmitrievich Gakhov (on his seventieth birthday). Russian Math. Surveys 31 (4), 227-237. GAKHOV, F.D., BIOGRAPHY, BIBLIOGRAPHY. BOUNDARY VALUE PROBLEMS. INTEGRAL EQUATIONS. (D.E. Kullman). #1047. 
work_mognuz5htzc2dn57nb4mb4uuke	----	ARCHITECTURAL HISTORY Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians of Great Britain Volume 44:2001 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core SOCIETY O F A R C H I T E C T U R A L H I S T O R I A N S O F G R E A T BRITAIN The Alice Davis Hitchcock Medallion is presented annually to authors of outstanding contributions to the literature of architectural history. Recipients of the award have been: 1959: H . M. COLVIN i960: J O H N SUMMERSON 1961: 1962: 1963: 1964: 1965: 1966: 1967: 1968: 1969: 1970: 1971: 1972: 1973: 1974: 1975: 1976: 1977: 1977: 1979: KERRY DOWNES J O H N FLEMING DOROTHY STROUD F. H . W . SHEPPARD H. M. & J O A N TAYLOR NIKOLAUS PEVSNER MARK GIROUARD CHRISTOPHER HUSSEY PETER COLLINS A. H. GOMME & D. M . WALKER J O H N HARRIS HERMIONE HOBHOUSE MARK GIROUARD J. MORDAUNT CROOK & M. H. PORT D A V I D W A T K I N ANTHONY BLUNT ANDREW SAINT PETER SMITH T E D R U D D O C K 1980: 1981: 1982: 1983: 1984: 1985: 1986: 1987: 1988: 1989: 1990: 1991: 1992: 1993: 1994: 1995: 1996: 1997: 1998: 1999: 2000: ALLAN BRAHAM H O W A R D COLVIN PETER THORNTON MAURICE CRAIG WILLIAM CURTIS JILL LEVER DAVID BROWNLEE J O H N HARVEY ROGER STALLEY ANDREW SAINT CHARLES SAUMAREZ SMITH CHRISTOPHER W I L S O N EILEEN HARRIS & NICHOLAS SAVAGE J O H N ALLAN COLIN CUNNINGHAM & PRUDENCE WATERHOUSE MILES GLENDINNING & STEFAN MUTHESIUS ROBERT HILLENBRAND R O B I N EVANS IAN BRISTOW DEREK LINSTRUM LINDA FAIRBAIRN The Society's Essay Medal is presented annually to the winner of the Society's essay medal competition. Tlie regulations are available from the Honorary Secretary. Recipients of the medal have been: 1982: 1983: GORDON HIGGOTT N E I L JACKSON 1984: JOSEPH SHARPLES 1985: 1986: 1987: 1988: 1989: 1990: 1991: N o award was made LAURAJACOBUS T I M M O W L GILES WORSLEY N o award was made N o award was made MICHAEL HALL 1992: 1993: 1994: 1995: 1996: 1997: 1998: 1999: 2000: FRANK SALMON CATHERINE STEEVES SEAN SAWYER JONATHAN HUGHES ANDREW HOPKINS PETER MAYHEW ANDREW FOYLE N o award was made ELEANOR TOLLFREE https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core ARCHITECTURAL HISTORY Essays in architectural history presented to John Neumian Volume 44:2001 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core SOCIETY O F A R C H I T E C T U R A L H I S T O R I A N S OF GREAT BRITAIN Founded 1956: incorporated 1964 The Society exists to encourage an interest in the history of architecture, to provide opportunities for the exchange and discussion of ideas related to this subject and to publish, in its journal, Architectural History, significant source material and the results of original research. ELECTED OFFICERS AND EXECUTIVE COMMITTEE 2 0 0 0 - 0 1 President: Peter Draper Past President Margaret Richardson Chairman: Christopher Wakeling Honorary Secretary: Andrew Martindale Honorary Treasurer: Martin Wedgwood Honorary Editor: Andor Gomme Honorary Conference Secretaries: Claire Gapper; Elizabeth Green Honorary Events Secretary: Richard Morrice Executive Committee David McLees Gordon Higgott Linda Monckton Grace McCombie Peter Smith Jane Thomas Bankers: Barclays Bank pic, University Branch, 137 Oxford Road, Manchester MI 7EA All correspondence concerning the Society except applications for membership should be addressed to: Mr Andrew Martindale, SAHGB, 6 Fitzroy Square, London W I P 6DX Applications for membership should be sent to: Mr Laurence Kinney, Brandon Mead, 9 Old Park Lane, Farnham, Surrey GU9 OAJ Correspondence concerning Architectural History should be addressed to: Professor Andor Gomme, Barleybat Hall, Church Lawton, Stoke-on-Trent, Staffs ST7 3DG Correspondence concerning the Society's Newsletter should be addressed to: Mrs Grace McCombie, 12 Rectory Grove, Gosforth, Newcastle upon Tyne NE3 IAL Books for review in the Society's Newsletter should be sent to: Dr Sean O'Reilly, 33 Barony Street, Edinburgh EH3 6NX C o p y r i g h t © 2001 Society of Architectural Historians of Great Britain and Authors ISSN: 0066-622X Produced by Maney Publishing, Hudson Road, Leeds Lsg yDL Set in Monotype Bembo https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core C O N T E N T S Section 1: Personalia J O H N N E W M A N : AN A P P R E C I A T I O N by Gordon Higgott i J O H N N E W M A N AT T H E C O U R T A U L D by Michael Kauffmann 5 J O H N A R T H U R N E W M A N : A B I B L I O G R A P H Y OF B O O K S , PAPERS, SELECTED R E V I E W S A N D MISCELLANEA compiled by Frank Salmon 7 Section 2: Terminology T E C H N I C A L TERMS A N D T H E U N D E R S T A N D I N G OF ENGLISH M E D I E V A L A R C H I T E C T U R E by E. C. Fernie 13 Section 3: Drawings and Designs A D R A W I N G BY ' R O B E R T U S P Y T E ' FOR H E N R Y VIII by Maurice Howard 22 I N I G O J O N E S , J O H N W E B B A N D T E M P L E BAR by John Peacock and Christy Anderson 29 A N E W L Y - D I S C O V E R E D D R A W I N G BY J A M E S S T U A R T by Kerry Bristol 39 A RECENTLY D I S C O V E R E D G A N D Y S K E T C H B O O K by Ian Goodall and Margaret Richardson 45 EXTRA I L L U S T R A T I O N S OF P U G I N B U I L D I N G S I N T . H . K I N G ' S LES VRAIS PRINCIPES by Roderick O'Donnell 57 A CASE OF C U L T U R A L S C H I Z O P H R E N I A : R U L I N G TASTES A N D A R C H I T E C T U R A L T R A I N I N G I N T H E E D W A R D I A N P E R I O D by Colin Cunningham 64 Section 4: Growth & Change in London T H E I M P A C T OF I N I G O J O N E S O N L O N D O N D E C O R A T I V E P L A S T E R W O R K by Claire Gapper 82 I N I G O J O N E S A N D T H E O R I G I N S OF T H E L O N D O N M E W S by Giles Worsley 88 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core vi CONTENTS E D W A R D H A T T O N ' S NEW VIEW OF LONDON by Bridget Cherry 96 J O H N W H I T E S E N I O R A N D J A M E S W Y A T T : A N EARLY S C H E M E FOR M A R Y L E B O N E PARK A N D T H E N E W STREET T O C A R L T O N H O U S E by James Anderson 106 RIVER V I E W S : T R A N S F O R M A T I O N S O N T H E T H A M E S by Roger Woodley 115 Section 5: Britain and the Continent REFLEXIONS OF V E N I C E I N S C O T T I S H A R C H I T E C T U R E by Deborah Howard 123 C O M P A R A B L E I N S T I T U T I O N S : T H E ROYAL H O S P I T A L FOR SEAMEN A N D T H E H O T E L DES I N V A L I D E S by John Bold 136 T H E T R A D I T I O N OF T H E SOFFITTO VENEZIANO IN LORD B U R L I N G T O N ' S S U B U R B A N VILLA A T C H I S W I C K by Pamela D. Kingsbury 145 CARSTEN ANKER D I N E S W I T H T H E Y O U N G E R GEORGE D A N C E , A N D VISITS ST LUKE'S H O S P I T A L FOR T H E I N S A N E by Christine Stevenson 153 Section 6: Cathedrals, Abbeys, Churches and Chapels I N H O C S I G N O : T H E W E S T F R O N T OF L I N C O L N C A T H E D R A L by Anthony Quiney 162 C A N T E R B U R Y C A T H E D R A L : CLASSICAL C O L U M N S IN T H E T R I N I T Y CHAPEL? by Peter Draper 172 T H E B U I L D I N G S OF W E S T M A L L I N G ABBEY by Tim Tatton-Brown 179 T H E NAVE OF S T O N E C H U R C H I N K E N T by Paul Crossley 195 ' T H E R E P O S I T O R Y OF O U R ENGLISH K I N G S ' : T H E H E N R Y VII C H A P E L AS ROYAL M A U S O L E U M by Thomas Cocke 212 A C A T H O L I C S C U L P T U R E I N E L I Z A B E T H A N E N G L A N D : SIR T H O M A S T R E S H A M ' S REREDOS AT R U S H T O N HALL by Richard Williams 221 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core CONTENTS vu J O H N C O L T A N D T H E C H A R T E R H O U S E C H A P E L by Stephen Porter and Adam White 228 THE S E T T I N G - O U T OF ST P A U L ' S C A T H E D R A L by Rob e rt C rayfo rd 237 J O H N J A M E S AT C H A L F O N T ST PETER by Sally Jeffery 249 ST C H A D ' S C H U R C H , S T A F F O R D : A Y O U N G A N D B E A U T I F U L V I R G I N A N D HER D E C A Y E D A N D D O T I N G H U S B A N D by Terry Friedman 258 'A R O O M NEARLY S E M I C I R C U L A R ' : ASPECTS OF T H E T H E A T R E A N D T H E C H U R C H F R O M H A R R I S O N T O P U G I N by Christopher Wakeling 265 T H E T O L P U D D L E M A R T Y R S ' C H A P E L by David M. Robinson 275 ' T H E D I S A S T R O U S D E F O R M A T I O N OF B U T T E R F I E L D ' : BALLIOL COLLEGE C H A P E L I N T H E T W E N T I E T H C E N T U R Y by Peter Howell 283 T H E Q U E E N ' S C H A P E L I N T H E T W E N T I E T H C E N T U R Y by Simon Bradley 293 Section 7: Country Houses T H E C O T T O N S AT W H I T T I N G T O N C O U R T by Elizabeth Williamson and John Juf ica 303 R E - D A T I N G W E S T W O O D by Andor Gomme 310 S U D B U R Y HALL C R E W E H A L L : A CLOSE C O N N E X I O N by Cherry Ann Knott 322 LORD S T A W E L L ' S GREAT H O U S E IN SOMERSET by Howard Colvin 332 RADLEY HALL T H E R E D I S C O V E R Y OF A C O U N T R Y H O U S E by Alison Maguire 341 AN I N T R I G U I N G P A T R O N A G E ? by Rosalys Coope 351 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core viii C O N T E N T S Section 8: Gardens and Parks MAPS OF C R A N B O R N E M A N O R I N T H E S E V E N T E E N T H C E N T U R Y by Paula Henderson 358 G A R D E N D E S I G N I N T H E M I D - S E V E N T E E N T H C E N T U R Y by David Jacques 365 F R A N C O I S - J O S E P H BELANGER'S B A T H - H O U S E AT T H E H O T E L D E B R A N C A S by Rachel Perry 3 77 Section g: Towns and Villages B O U G H T O N M O N C H E L S E A : T H E P A T T E R N OF B U I L D I N G I N A CENTRAL K E N T PARISH by Sarah Pearson 386 ' G O O D & N O T E X P E N S I V E . . . ' : L O R D H A R C O U R T ' s N U N E H A M C O U R T E N A Y by Malcolm Airs 394 SURVIVAL OF T H E SMALLEST: T H E SEVENOAKS T E N A N T S ' ESTATE b y A i l e e n R e i d 401 M O N M O U T H A N D T H E F L O O D S by Keith Kissack 411 The Society acknowledges with gratitude a grant towards the cost of publishing this volume from a private charitable trust, whose trustees wish to remain anonymous. The Editor likewise gratefully acknowledges the extensive help in preparing the volume which he has received from Claire Gapper, Gordon Higgott, Maurice Howard and Margaret Newman. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core N O T E S O N C O N T R I B U T O R S MALCOLM AIRS is Read er in Conservation and the Historic Environment at the University of Oxford and a Fellow of Kellogg College. H e is Chairman of the Institute of Historic Building Conservation, author of The Tudor and Jacobean Country House and editor of the continuing series of volumes on the English Great House. CHRISTY ANDERSON, w h o has been a research fellow of Worcester College, Oxford and lecturer at the O p e n University, n o w teaches architectural history at Yale. Her study Inigo Jones: Books and Buildings in the English Renaissance is to be published later this year. *JAMES ANDERSON, former Honorary Treasurer of the Society, is a practising architectural historian with a particular interest in the development of London in the early nineteenth century. J O H N BOLD has written books o n W i l t o n House and the architecture of J o h n W e b b . His book on Greenwich, prepared with colleagues from the former R C H M , was published at the end of last year. H e is a consultant to the Council of Europe on the cultural heritage and teaches at the University of Westminster and at N e w York University in London. * SIMON BRADLEY is Deputy Editor of the Pevsner Architectural Guides (Penguin Books). His essay, ' T h e Roots of Ecclesiology', was published in A Church as it Should Be, edited by J o h n Elliott and Christopher Webster, in 2000. *KERRY BRISTOL is a Lecturer in Architecture and Decorative Arts at the University of Leeds, the author of several forthcoming articles and a monograph on Athenian Stuart. Her special interests include the Grand Tour, European neo-classical architecture and Irish architecture 1660-1820. BRIDGET CHERRY, n o w chief editor of the Pevsner Architectural Guides, became Pevsner's research assistant in 1968. She revised Surrey, Wiltshire and Northants, largely rewrote Devon in 1989 and has since masterminded the comprehensive series, n o w nearly complete, on London. She has been a commissioner for both English Heritage and the R C H M E . *THOMAS COCKE wrote a Courtauld thesis on the attitudes taken to medieval buildings and their care after the Middle Ages and particularly in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries; this has remained the focus of his research ever since. Most of his working life has been spent as an investigator with the former R C H M E and now as Secretary of the Council for the Care of Churches. HOWARD COLVIN F.B.A., Emeritus Fellow of St John's College, Oxford, world- renowned for the Biographical Dictionary of British Architects and The History of the King's Works, is also author of, inter alia, Architecture and the After-Life and (most recently) Essays in English Architectural History. ROSALYS COOPE'S monograph on Salomon de Brosse and her catalogue of the R I B A drawings of Jacques Gentilhatre both appeared in 1972, since w h e n her special interest https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core X NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS in the architecture of the French Renaissance has been confirmed by regular appearance at the colloques at the University of Tours. She is the author of two seminal articles on the long gallery in Architectural History and has done much research on Newstead Abbey, published in several articles in the Transactions of the Thornton Society of Nottinghamshire. ROBERT CRAYFORD, Architectural Archivist at St Paul's, recently published a reconstruc- tion (from the building accounts) of Inigo Jones's portico, and collaborated with Hentie Louw on a Constructional History of the Sash W i n d o w c.i 670-1725 (Architectural History, 42 & 43). PAUL CROSSLEY is a Senior Lecturer at the Courtauld Institute, the author of The Architecture ofKasimir the Great (1985). R e c e n t publications include (as author-editor) the new edition of Paul Frankl's Gothic Architecture and (as co-editor) Architecture: Constructing Identity in European Architecture (both 2000). H e has a specialist interest in the medieval architecture of Germany and eastern Europe and is writing a history of German late Gothic. COLIN CUNNINGHAM, former Chairman of the Society, has recently retired from a Readership in Architectural History at the O p e n University. His study of Alfred Waterhouse, written jointly with Prudence Waterhouse, w o n the Alice Davis Hitchcock award in 1994. Stones of Witness appeared in 1999, a contribution to The Albert Memorial in 2000, and The Terracotta Designs of Alfred Waterhouse is due this year. PETER DRAPER, the Society's current President, is Senior Lecturer in the History of Art at Birkbeck College, University of London. H e has published extensively on English medieval architecture, focusing on the cultural interpretation of major churches and the interrelationship between architecture and liturgy. ERIC FERNIE is Director of the Courtauld Institute and a student of medieval architecture. His most recent book, published this year, is The Architecture of Norman England. TERRY FRIEDMAN, formerly Principal Keeper of the Henry Moore Centre for the Study of Sculpture in Leeds, and author oijames Gibbs (1984), is currently at work on a broad study of eighteenth-century English church architecture. *CLAIRE CAPPER took her M.A. at the Courtauld and followed it with a P h . D . on English plasterwork of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, on which she has written and lectured. She is co-author, with J o h n N e w m a n and Annabel Ricketts, of 'Hatfield, a house for a Lord Treasurer' in Pauline Croft (ed.), Culture and Power: the early Cecils, due for publication later this year. ANDOR GOMME used to teach English Literature and Architectural History at Keele University. H e is a former Chairman of the Society and currently Honorary Editor of Architectural History. His book on Smith of Warwick was published earlier this year. IAN GOODALL works in the Architectural Investigation section of English Heritage in York. H e has contributed to a number of publications, including Furness Iron, English Hospitals 1600—1948 and Yorkshire Textile Mills 1770—1930. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS XI *PAULA HENDERSON has a P h . D . in architectural history from the Courtauld Institute. She specialized in the architecture of the setting of the English house in the T u d o r and early Stuart periods, and her book on the subject will shortly be published. * G O R D O N HIGGOTT is a Historic Buildings Inspector at English Heritage. H e took his M.A. and P h . D . at the Courtauld under Peter Kidson and J o h n N e w m a n . H e is co- author (with J o h n Harris) of Inigo Jones: Complete Architectural Drawings (1989) and has published on Jones's early continental travels and architectural theory. H e is n o w researching the W r e n office designs for H a m p t o n C o u r t Palace and St Paul's Cathedral DEBORAH HOWARD, immediate past-Chairman of the Society, is Reader in Architec- tural History at the University of Cambridge and a Fellow of St J o h n ' s College. H e r latest book is Venice and the East: The Impact of the Islamic World on Venetian Architecture 1100-1500 (2000). *MAURICE HOWARD'S books include The Early Tudor Country House (1987) and The Tudor Image (1995). Forthcoming is The Vyne: The Archaeology of a great Tudor House, with Edward Wilson. H e is R e a d e r in Art History at the University of Sussex, a former Chairman of the Society and Senior Specialist Advisor to the V&A for the British Galleries Project, 2001. PETER HOWELL has recently retired from teaching Latin at Royal Holloway College. His recent publications include chapters on Architecture 1800—1914' in vol. vii of The History of the University of Oxford and on Francis Skidmore in The Albert Memorial. H e is currently working on a book on the triumphal arch from R o m a n times to the present. *DAVID JACQUES is the author of Georgian Gardens: The Reign of Nature (1983) and The Gardens of William and Mary (1988), and was First Inspector of Historic Parks and Gardens at English Heritage from 1988 to 1993. H e is currently Director of the Conservation (Landscapes & Gardens) course at the Architectural Association. SALLY JEFFERY, a former Honorary Secretary of the Society, works as an architectural and garden historian with the Corporation of London and also teaches garden history at Birkbeck College. She is the author of the definitive architectural study of the London Mansion House. J O H N JURICA is Assistant Editor of the Victoria History of Gloucestershire. c. M. KAUFFMAN was formerly Keeper of Prints & Drawings and Paintings at the Victoria and Albert M u s e u m (1975-85) and subsequently Professor of the History of Art and Director of the Courtauld Institute, University of London (1985-95). *PAMELA D . KINGSBURY holds a P h . D . in Art History from the University of Chicago. She is an independent scholar, writing on English eighteenth-century architecture and that of Frank Lloyd Wright, and she serves as architectural historian for the State of Kansas preservation board. H e r book on Lord Burlington's Town Architecture was published in 1995. KEITH KISSACK, a former member of M o n m o u t h Borough Council and Director of M o n m o u t h and Castle Museums, is the author of several books on the history and https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core Xll NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS architecture of the town, and jointly of the Blue Guide to the churches of Herefordshire, Shropshire and Worcestershire. *CHERRY ANN KNOTT was Curator of Sudbury Hall for five years until 1983. Subsequently, as a post-graduate student at the Courtauld Institute, she did research on Sudbury in the Vernon family archives. *ALISON MAGUIRE wrote her Courtauld P h . D . thesis on Country-House Planning in England, 1660—1700. She n o w works as an independent Consultant Architectural Historian and is also engaged (in collaboration with Andor Gomme) in researching and writing a book on the compact house plan. RODERICK O'DONNELL is an expert on the Pugins and the R o m a n Catholic revival in these islands. H e was research assistant in Dublin for the Buildings of Ireland 1975—78 and frequently contributes to the revised Buildings of. . . volumes, but found his house damned with faint praise in the revised Norfolk as 'suburban Arts & Crafts'. H e has been an inspector with English Heritage and its predecessor bodies since 1982. J O H N PEACOCK teaches English at Southampton University. His book on The Stage Designs of Inigo Jones came out in 1995. H e has n o w turned to the study of Van Dyck, for which he has recently received a Leverhulme research fellowship. SARAH PEARSON formerly worked for the R C H M E and for them wrote The Medieval Houses of Kent: an Historical Analysis (1994). She is the immediate Part-President of the Vernacular Architecture Group. Her extended introduction to the Kent Hearth Tax Assessment: Lady Day 1664 is to be published by the British R e c o r d Society this year. * RACHEL PERRY specializes in French architecture and is currently working on a book on Francois-Joseph Belanger, the subject of her Courtauld P h . D . STEPHEN PORTER is Assistant Editor with the Survey of London section of English Heritage, working on a study of the London Charterhouse for a forthcoming volume in the series. H e is author of Exploring Urban History (1990), Destruction in the English Civil Wars (1994), The Great Fire of London (1996) and The Great Plague (1999), and editor of London and the Civil War (1996). ANTHONY QUINEY, Professor of Architectural History at the University of Greenwich, prolific author and a former Chairman of the Society and President of the Royal Archaeological Institute, is currently completing a book on the medieval urban houses ofBritain. *AILEEN REID was educated at Edinburgh University and the Courtauld Institute, where she wrote a doctoral dissertation on the architectural career of E. W . Godwin (1833-86). She was joint editor with Robert Mainura of Edward Alleyn: Elizabethan Actor, Jacobean Gentleman (1994). H e r latest book is Brentham: a History of the Pioneer Garden Suburb igoi-2001 (2000); she currently works as assistant literary editor of The Sunday Telegraph. MARGARET RICHARDSON has worked at Sir J o h n Soane's Museum since 1985 and been its curator since 1995. She co-edited the exhibition John Soane: Master of Space and Light at the Royal Academy of Arts in 1999. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS xm DAVID ROBINSON is an architectural historian with the Historical Analysis and Research Team at English Heritage. Essentially a medievalist, he was previously academic editor of the Cadw: Welsh Historic Monuments guidebook series. *FRANK SALMON has been lecturing in art history at the University of Manchester since 1989. His book Building on Ruins: The Rediscovery of Rome and English Architecture was published late last year. *CHRISTINE STEVENSON is a lecturer in the History of Art at the University of Reading. She has published articles on Hogarth and on eighteenth-century institutional architecture in England, Scotland and Denmark, and in 2000 the book Medicine and Magnificence: British Hospital and Asylum Architecture 1660—1800. TIM TATTON-BROWN was Director of the Canterbury Archaeological Trust from 1975 to 1985 and is n o w a freelance archaeologist and architectural historian. H e helped with the third edition of The Buildings of England: North-east and East Kent and has recently published Lambeth Palace, a history .of the Archbishops of Canterbury and their houses (2000). CHRISTOPHER WAKELING, the Society's current Chairman, teaches architectural and art history at Keele University. H e has a special interest in the architecture of n o n - conformism, and is the author of the section on Post-Renaissance architecture in the centenary edition of Sir Banister Fletcher's History of Architecture. *ADAM WHITE studied English Renaissance sculpture under J o h n N e w m a n at the Courtauld in the 1970s and has remained a devotee of the subject ever since. His Biographical Dictionary of London Tomb Sculptors c. 1560— c. 1660 was published by the Walpole Society in 1999. For the past six years he has worked as Curator of Lotherton Hall, Leeds Museums and Galleries. *RICHARD WILLIAMS, w h o has been a part-time tutor at Birkbeck College, is currently completing a doctoral thesis at the Courtauld Institute on the impact of the Reformation o n visual culture in Elizabethan England. His chapter on 'Libels and Payntinges: Elizabethan Catholics and the International Campaign of Visual Propa- ganda' is due to be published shortly in fohn Foxe and his World. ELIZABETH WILLIAMSON, joint author of the revised Pevsner Guides on Buckinghamshire, Leicestershire and Rutland, and Nottinghamshire, is n o w Architectural Editor of The Victoria History of the Counties of England. *ROGER WOODLEY wrote his doctoral thesis on the professional development of Robert Mylne. H e teaches architectural history at University College, London and is preparing the next edition of the London Blue Guide. *GILES WORSLEY, architectural correspondent of The Daily Telegraph, is the author of Classical Architecture in Britain (1995) and editor of The Life and Works of John Can, by Brian Wragg (2000). * Former students of J o h n N e w m a n at the Courtauld Institute. https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0066622X00007620 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_n4cdi57q2ja5bd357tfyvhqeti	----	Mobilities Vol. 5, No. 2, 177–195, May 2010 1745-0101 Print/1745-011X Online/10/020177–19 © 2010 Taylor & Francis DOI: 10.1080/17450101003665010 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel DANIEL P. S. GOH Department of Sociology, National University of Singapore Taylor and FrancisRMOB_A_467023.sgm10.1080/17450101003665010Mobilities1745-0101 (print)/1745-011X (online)Original Article2010Taylor & Francis52000000May 2010DanielGohsocgohd@nus.edu.sg ABSTRACT Celebrated as a leading luxury hotel in the world, the Raffles Hotel stands as a monument to Singapore’s status as a global city of commerce. The century-old Hotel also represents successful postcolonial heritage conservation. Drawing from archival and published sources, I analyze the Hotel as a changing cultural form in the historical transfor- mation of Singapore by the circuits of global capital, from imperial capitalism, through the postcolonial development of national capitalism, to the current phase of neoliberal globaliza- tion. Together with developments in the surrounding urban heart of Singapore, Raffles Hotel is a space of cultural disjuncture transfiguring through the three ages of capital. I argue that the Hotel took the dominant form of white male domesticity in British Singapore, nostalgic authen- ticity in the postcolonial period and cosmopolitan hybridity in the current global phase. In each phase, the form elided the racial, class, gender and sexual contradictions of transnational capital and produced social relations of relative mobility. It shows that the global city is not made by transnational capital but by the developmental state harnessing economic flows for global city-making with the ensuing spatial-cultural politics in tow. KEY WORDS: Capitalism; development state; monument; hotels; Postcolonial; cultural form Transfiguration and Monumentality in a Mobile City Built in 1887, the famous Raffles Hotel of Singapore was, first, a manifestation of the colonial domesticity of the British Empire, providing homely respite for white travelers. It was and still is, second, a national monument of authentic history, legally inserted in 1987 into a postcolonial discourse that draws the equivalence between Stamford Raffles’ establishment of Singapore as a colonial entrepôt and the Anglicized postco- lonial ruling elite’s transformation of a wrecked post-War city into an export-oriented industrialized city-state (Holden, 1999). It is, today, a monument to the neoliberal globalization of Singapore, its branding globalized and transnationality branded in the Raffles Hotels built in cities across Asia, America, Europe and the South Seas. The Hotel is intricately bound to the transnational capitalism that Singapore has been enmeshed in since the nineteenth century. But instead of seeing the Hotel as an Correspondence Address: Daniel P.S. Goh, Department of Sociology, National University of Singapore, AS1 #03-06, 11 Arts Link, Singapore, 117570. Email: socgohd@nus.edu.sg D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 178 D. P. S. Goh example of how Singapore has adapted itself to the changing vicissitudes of capital- ism, successfully promoting itself as a global brand while conserving local heritage and culture (Henderson, 2001), I want to discern, in this article, what the changing monumentality of the Hotel can tell us about the culture of transnational capitalism and, therefore, Singapore as a ‘mobile city’ traversed by the flows of capital embod- ied in travelers, artifacts and cultural forms. In other words, instead of seeing Singapore as a global city that, because of its dense transnational network linkages, is able to affect economies, politics and cultures far beyond its shores, I take the position of seeing Singapore and the Raffles Hotel as manifest forms emerging from and shaped by the flows that pass through them and sustain their very existence. For the cultural theorist, this project should evoke Marx’s (1976, pp. 163–77) theo- rization of the commodity form as a fetishistic product of labor that takes on a life of its own and enters into relationships with each other and with people, its seemingly independent life and autonomous value thereby obscuring the social relations that underlie its production and exchange. This fetishism reaches its zenith in capitalism because the realm of exchange becomes dominant and pervades other realms, particu- larly for Marx the realm of production in the very constitution of free wage labor, and for our purposes here the realm of cultural forms, where culture is no longer tied to localities but propelled into circulation carried by migrants, goods, images, technol- ogy and ideas shot through with shifting disjuncture (Appadurai, 1990). Culture is not incidental to the flow of capital embodied in these cultural forms but intrinsic to it; capital cannot move without taking on explicit cultural forms. Thus, instead of treat- ing capital as an instrumental and economically rational force that encroaches on local culture and absorbs it to the modern form of abstract value, it is more appropriate that we take transnational capitalism to be a system of cultural flows that possess local things and spaces with its logic of split values (use and exchange values) and histori- cal significations (signifiers and their meanings), thus transfiguring them to become transcultural entities. The concept ‘transfiguration’ points to the central problematic of moving beyond the question of translatability (between values and significances) into the question of the mutation of forms in the circulation of cultural flows in and across contiguous matrices (Gaonkar & Povinelli, 2003). At stake here is our ability to imagine and understand an accelerating mobility of cultural objects without reducing them to static moments of gravitas. As a matter of analytical strategy, my focus is deliberately trained on what we would expect to be a static moment of gravitas par excellence that is at the same time inextricably connected to the logic of transnational capitalism in a city as pervaded by global cultural flows as Singapore: a monument that is at the same time a commercial tourist attraction. We expect monuments to be socially constructed as timeless repre- sentations of a particular event or ethos of a period, the memory of which is to be culturally constrained to fit the dominant political and economic agenda of the present. Monuments are therefore supposed to be static and meaningful at any historical junc- ture. Ostensibly, they stand, against the wear of social life and tear of historical change, as a memorial testament to the immemorial. Can they be transfigured, or, are they and have they been constantly transfiguring before our very eyes because the context is itself shot through with shifting disjuncture arising from the flows of people, images, ideas, capital and technology? How are the transfigurations linked to the mobilescapes afflicting the social spaces of the city as it passes through the historical phases of D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel 179 cultural flows? What kind of derivative memories, histories, meaning-values, translat- ability, authority and power are therefore produced? I analyze the changing monumentality of Raffles Hotel briefly described in the opening paragraph as moments of transfiguration, when the form of memorial representation is manifested from the tussle between the mobilescapes of capitalism and the social forces that seek to discipline and exploit them. Its transfiguration in each of the three ages of capital was influenced by the relative juxtapositions of spati- ality, authority and temporality expressed through the categories of race, gender, class and sexuality that emerged from the tussle of the age. I argue that the Hotel took the dominant cultural form of domesticity in British Singapore as it became a homely symbol of safe haven for weary white colonial entrepreneurs, authenticity in the post- colonial age of independence when it stood for the national accomplishments of the developmental state in making over Singapore’s colonial origins, and hybridity in the current global phase as state-owned capital grapples with the neoliberal order by sending its assets into the cultural orbit of global commerce. Imperial Capitalism and Colonial Domesticity As the story goes, the Sarkies brothers, scions of Armenian traders and businessmen, scouted for a good site to establish a hotel in Singapore and chanced upon a colonial bungalow on the downtown beachfront owned by the Alsagoffs, prominent Arab trad- ers and property owners. The bungalow was situated next to the Raffles Institution, a premier English school established by Stamford Raffles for the enlightenment of the native, which inspired the name of the newfound hotel. Raffles Hotel quickly became one of the three premier hotels of British Southeast Asia operated by the Sarkies. The Hotel’s founding upon a colonial bungalow signified an origin of colonial domesticity. The colonial domestic space was a fragile space fraught with tensions. The colonial bungalow was open to the native gaze and was therefore an additional site for the performance of racial difference and imperial prestige. For the colonials under the siege of alien cultures and climates, it was a refuge for the sustenance of metropol- itan cultural identity. Colonial domestic space was paradoxically an anxious-comfort zone in the contact zones of empire. On the one hand, the anxieties of colonial control over the circuits of capital, natives and power were resolved in the controlled intimacy of homely colonial comfort, where the white woman was the gentle mistress. On the other hand, the inevitable presence of native servants in the bungalow needed to maintain the homely comfort entailed an anxious policing of race, gender, class and sexuality (Clancy-Smith & Gouda, 1998; Collingham, 2001; Stoler, 2002). However, at Raffles Hotel, colonial domesticity is transfigured by the mobility of its guests in the imperial capitalist networks beyond its doors. Raffles Hotel was not the domestic space of the colonial settler or the elite colonial official, but the place of refuge from imperial networks for the weary white entrepreneur and sojourner on the high seas of commerce or exploration. Increasingly, as the plantations of Malaya took off with the triumph of rubber, European planters from the domesticated interior sought breaks from the rigors of extracting value from trees and coolies and swarmed the Hotel with regularity. As a space of colonial domesticity for passing travelers, it mirrored the ambivalence of anxiety and comfort in a different manner. It was an invented space of timelessness that stood apart from both the colonial city and the D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 180 D. P. S. Goh native lands beyond. It was an androgynous space separated from the competition between male bodies and the desires visited by female bodies, where the colonial male can recharge himself for another foray into the imperial frontier. The new building erected to replace the bungalow in 1897 exuded a simple French Renaissance style of non-descript neoclassical columns, arches and ornaments melt- ing idyllically into the stone façade of tall windows with wooden shutters and capped with a tiled red roof. It signified androgynous timelessness out of place in a tropical colony and standing apart from the statuesque and masculine neoclassical monumen- tality of colonial public buildings a stone’s throw away. Its sister hotels signified other temporalities. The masculine Strand in Rangoon mimicked grandiose, late- Victorian neoclassical modernism in a conquered colony that boasted a competing Theravada Buddhist civilization replete with its own monumental architectural traditions. The hybrid Eastern in Penang stood miniature minarets on its French Renaissance artifice and integrated an oriental dome of perfect symmetry into its lobby, thus identifying with Penang’s status as the gateway to the peninsular Malay states, which were celebrated as Islamic sultanates regenerated by British protection. In contrast, and suited to Singapore, which had no interior and was thus not a gate- way, but which was rather a cosmopolitan node that rose from the intersections of imperial capitalism, Raffles Hotel appeared to be an architectural expansion of the colonial bungalow, growing upwards and outwards to encompass, in the words of explorer-author Carveth Wells, ‘an immense rambling structure, with huge court- yards full of coconut palms and lovely tropical flowers’ that were surrounded by ‘tiers of wide verandahs on to which open lofty bedrooms, twice the height of any ordinary hotel room’ (1994, p. 242). The Hotel was marked by the domesticity visiting an old colonial bungalow. An advertisement posted by the Sarkies in the Singapore Free Press in 1887 promised ‘every convenience and home comfort’ (cited in Sharp, 1981, p. 23). Arriving in Singapore to enlist in the colonial service in 1890, Colonel R. V. K. Applin spent a ‘painful and sleepless night under a large mosquito curtain’ and tackled his bath ‘in a dark place with a concrete floor, in the middle of which was a large earthenware jar some four feet high’ (1994, p. 144). Though boasting of being the earliest hotel with electric lighting and fans in the colony, the domesticity resisted modernity. Up to 1918, the large earthenware jar standing on a wooden grating remained the visitor’s bath of scooping and pouring water over one’s head. It was only in the late 1930s that Wells, on a return visit to Singapore, reported that the ‘artistic earthenware jar had been replaced by an ugly galvanized iron tub underneath a brass tap’ (1994, p. 243). In the mid-1920s, Horace Bleackley compared the ‘cool and airy’ Raffles with its chief competitor, the Hotel de l’Europe, and found that the former must ‘give prece- dence’ to the Europe, which was ‘a first-class hotel’ preferred by elite British travelers and haughty British officials despite its ‘old-fashioned’ building that was ‘ill-suited to the tropics’ (1994, p. 205). Raffles was left to the middling colonial classes: clerks, writers, adventurers, junior bureaucrats, mid-rank military officers, planters, sailors and the other foot soldiers of Western imperialism. A cast-iron portico was added to the front porch facing Beach Road in 1913, but even this modern appendage was domesticated by intricate Art Nouveau designs, its machined-edge construction soft- ened by the curvilinear bending of metal characteristic of mass-produced middle-class aesthetics of the age. D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel 181 The portico gave way in 1920 to a large rectangular marquee that doubled as dining area in daylight and ballroom in the evenings. This was essentially a verandah that protruded into the social space of the surroundings. King (1995, pp. 265–267) discusses the verandah of the bungalow as a colonial space of leisure, where the white colonial sitting in his rattan chair looking out into native society turned it into a symbolic space of economic and political status. Studying the architecture of colonial exhibitions, Morris (1983, pp. 45–46) describes the verandah that was commonly grafted unto pavilions of tropical colonies as transition zones mediating the rigid conventionality and propriety of colonial life and the exotic and sensuous native life represented inside the pavilion’s galleries. Lai (2005, pp. 145–148) combines both insights to analyze the courtyard verandah of the Malayan pavilion at the 1924 British Empire Exhibition in Wembley as an imaginary zone of acclimatized domestic life, where the fantasy of safety in a domesticated colony was experienced by white visitors seated in rattan chairs observing natives and colonials interacting. In Singapore, the verandah takes on an added political significance, as the municipal authorities who sought ‘open, clearly visible, public spaces … essential to the policing and surveillance functions of the colonial state’ (Yeoh, 2003, p. 246) battled the complexity and versatility of multiple Asian usage of urban space centered on the verandahs that extended over public walkways. In its daylight manifestation as dining area, the extended verandah of Raffles Hotel took on this space of transition and polit- icized domesticity. Here, the colonial could seek shelter from the seething life of the Beach Road area, which popular British travel writer W. Robert Horan described as a ‘rabbit-warren of hovels, Chinese artisans’ shops and factories, movable open-air restaurants, licensed opium-shops, pawnbrokers, second-hand clothes and junk dealers, and the hordes of strange people who throng this evil-smelling artery of Singapore’ (1994, p. 222). The metonymy of strange businesses, commodity objects and exotic natives highlight the Hotel’s surrounding social space as an ‘artery’ of the imperial networks. This artery gave colonial significance to the Hotel’s domesticity. Sitting in the extended verandah, the white colonial male could gaze safely at the sensual mani- festations of the imperial networks traversing the public verandahs of the colonial city. At night, when the extended verandah was turned into the ballroom, the gaze was reversed. In the darkened streets, the natives now peered into the brightly lit marquee and observed immaculately dressed colonials dancing with improbability. Bleackley described the two ballrooms in Singapore, of the Raffles and Europe Hotels, as ‘a scene of youth and beauty’, not only because the colony was largely peopled by youth, but also because ‘when folks become elderly’ and stay on in the colony they ‘do not cumber the dancing-floor’ (1994, p. 207). On his stay in 1936, travel writer H. D. Harben complained that the Hotel was ‘far from a pleasant place to stay in’ (1994, p. 232). A seasoned traveler traversing the imperial networks, his complaint juxtaposed the colorful but noisy surrounding ‘artery’ with the discomforting domes- ticity of colonials dancing ‘nearly every night till quite late’, of ‘the sound of feet on the stone’ coming through ‘the trellis shutters’ as they walked about the modernity- resistant Hotel because there were ‘no carpets and no windows’ (1994, p. 232). But if the gazing native population found this a spectacle of eccentric decadence (Sharp, 1981, p. 41), the youthful colonials were dancing the night and their tropical anxieties away to enact the transcolonial timelessness of Hotel and Empire. This timelessness was asserted through to the last dance on the eve of the British surrender to Japanese D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 182 D. P. S. Goh invaders in February 1942, with, in the words of the fire service chief, ‘everyone jampacked on the ballroom floor’ and jovially in denial of the ‘idea of a fall’ (quoted in Sharp, 1981, pp. 52–53). The Hotel celebrates Somerset Maugham for not only writing many of his popular Malayan stories while staying at the Hotel in the 1920s, but also for collecting some of the materials for his stories at the Hotel (Flower, 1986). By no coincidence, Maugham begins many of his Malayan stories with a scene at the club or hotel. What is significant is that transgressions and violence either follow the colonials as they step out into the colonial spaces and imperial networks outside the hotel or enter the safe and timeless space of the hotel as news, confessions and stories. Holden (1996, p. 100) points out that Maugham’s Malayan stories are located in a colonial discourse in which white women function as symbolic boundary markers in anxieties over ‘racial separation and sexual continence’. At the same time that white women were brought to the colony to separate white men from enchanting native women, white women must be protected from native male wiles. The domesticity of Raffles Hotel was similarly gendered. The native staff mostly consisted of domesticated native ‘boys’ clad in hybrid Indian-Malay-European uniforms (Sharp, 1981, p. 87). Only a handful of native women were employed and not as chambermaids or waitresses, a gender preference that lasted till the 1960s (Pregarz, 1990, p. 21). On the dance-floor, available white women were in short supply, and the social interaction of white women visiting the Hotel without their husbands was regulated by gossips (Sharp, 1981, pp. 41–42). In contrast to the feminine domesticity of the colonial bungalow, the domesticity of the Hotel was an androgynous domesticity where sexuality was occluded and white women functioned as the boundary to the imperial mores out there so that masculinity could recover its bearings. From Decolonization to the Developmental State In the post-War twilight of Empire, the timelessness of the Hotel decayed as the historical forces of nationalism and socialism disrupted the mobilities of capital. Commandeered by the Japanese as an elite guesthouse and then by the British military as the same, by the time it was returned to civilian oversight, the politics of decoloni- zation affected the Hotel. In the 1950s, conservative Anglicized Chinese businessmen were introduced to the board. Tan Chin Tuan, active in the pro-colonial Progressive Party, became the board’s chairman in the late-1950s. Perceived as a colonial relic, the Hotel had a prickly relationship with autonomous transitional governments led by nationalists, leading Tan to proclaim, ‘one oftentimes wonders whether the authorities are sincerely trying to develop the tourist industry’ (Raffles Hotel Annual Report 1958, hereafter RHAR). The Hotel attempted to adapt to the political realities by Malayanizing its identity and activities. Traditional Malay dances were introduced in the ‘Malayan Night’ floorshows in 1956 (Sharp, 1981, p. 75). A souvenir scarf of the period shows the semiotic association of the Hotel with Malay icons, including a kampong house, a couple in Malay dress and coconut trees (Flower, 1986, p. 44). Beneath the image of rustic native tranquility, the local workforce was a thorn in the Hotel’s side. Radical labor unions, an integral part of the anti-colonial movement, led the local workers in skirmishes with the Hotel management from the five-day hotel strike in 1955 to the mass labor strike in 1963. Significantly, during Maugham’s last D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel 183 stay in the Hotel in 1959, he reportedly said, ‘The Raffles I knew then was nothing like it is today’, and, ‘The East is a very different world from the one I knew’ (quoted in Sharp, 1981, p. 106). Indeed it was. The networks of production and trade upon which colonial empires were constructed had transformed into postcolonial networks managed and harnessed by sovereign national states for their developmental programs. The political dimension of the networks was disciplined by authoritarian regimes split along communist, non- communist and anti-communist lines. Anti-communist, authoritarian developmental- ism was the order of the day in Singapore. This solved the labor problems and the relationship between Hotel and government improved, but not unequivocally. In 1968, the Hotel management assisted the developmental state in setting up the Hotel and Catering Centre to help train hotel staff required for the expansion of the tourist and hotel industry, but expressed ‘doubt as to whether the pace of development [was] not too fast’ (RHAR, 1968 ). As the Singapore economy rapidly developed, competition became intense. The Hotel was losing both well-trained staff and high-paying guests to new modern luxury hotels (RHAR, 1971 ) and experienced losses to its balance books for the first time in the 1970s (RHAR, 1973 & 1975 ). The Hotel struggled with rising costs and low room rates despite the fact that the number of tourist visiting Singapore grew more than four times from 579,284 in 1970 to 2,562,085 in 1980 (Singapore Government, 2000, p. 24). The Silver Kris, Singapore Airlines’ in-flight magazine, described the Hotel in 1978 as ‘a pale relic from a bygone era’, where ‘the curious, the nostalgic’ stopped by ‘to look at the remains of a legend’ (Hutton, 1978, p. 31). But by all indications, the Hotel was holding on to its staple coterie of middle-class travelers who sought an ‘authentic’ experience of Singapore as part of the exotic ex- colonial East. At the beginning of the decade the management was ‘encouraged by the continuing support of discriminating visitors who require their hotel to be part of Singapore rather than the stereotyped accommodation which the new hotels provide’ (RHAR, 1971 ). At the end of the decade the management was pleased that the Hotel continued ‘to be very popular with visitors to Singapore’ but sounded the warning that continuously rising costs threatened its profitability (RHAR, 1980 ). The Hotel’s middle-class guest list could no longer support the costs of timeless domesticity. The Hotel needed a makeover that would attract high-heeled guests and, at the same time, enhance its authenticity to match the transnational capitalism of the age. Up to this point, the developmental state was still focused on primary industrializa- tion and the promotion of tourism and heritage was still a secondary and piecemeal affair. This quickly changed at the end of the 1970s after successful industrialization. However, the development of tourism had to be reconciled with urban heritage conservation. In 1979, the Development Bank of Singapore, a state-owned bank and the owner of the land on which the Hotel stands indicated that it might be entering into a joint venture with the Overseas Chinese Banking Corporation, the holder of the Hotel’s land lease and a major shareholder in the Development Bank’s proposed adja- cent Raffles City development. The intention was to modernize and rationalize the Raffles Hotel with the new development (Business Times [BT], 1979). Failing which, the banks were keen to preserve the Hotel in its current state and let global hotel chains run it to profitability (Straits Times [ST], 1980a). Heritage conservation did not figure in the banks’ plans. On the other hand, the government and its Singapore D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 184 D. P. S. Goh Tourist Promotion Board were keen to preserve and enlarge the Hotel by developing adjacent land behind the Hotel (Asia Wall Street Journal, 1980; ST, 1980b). In addi- tion, the government pushed a plan for extensive renovation of the Hotel, to restore it ‘to its former elegance and maximize its historical value’ and demolish parts ‘not considered architecturally worth preserving’ and ‘of no historical importance’ (ST 1980b; Singapore Monitor, 1982). The uncertainty remained but there was little local public interest. Unlike the rede- velopment of other historic landmarks like the National Theater, which sparked public protests, the population was apathetic about the Hotel. Its fate lied in the over- lapping rationalities of finance capital and the developmental state, with the former interested in the profitability of investment and the latter concerned about reconciling heritage with tourist development. Discussions about the redevelopment carried on into the mid-1980s with little progress until they were finally abandoned in 1985 (RHAR, 1983, 1984, 1985 ). The government finally threw down the gauntlet. Releas- ing its Tourism Product Development Plan, the government announced that it wanted the Hotel to be turned into a suites-only hotel reserved for state guests and other elite visitors and threatened to take the lead in redevelopment if it failed to persuade the two banks (ST, 1986; BT, 1986). The Hotel became part of the developmental state’s grand plan to remodel the old city centre to promote tourism, by preserving heritage buildings while renovating them for modern commercial uses. In 1987, the state moved to force the fate of the Hotel. First, the Hotel was named a national monument and placed under the legal protection of the Preservation of Monuments Board. Second, the government put out the lease of the adjacent land for public tender, to be sold to the party with the best development plan, therefore effec- tively imposing its redevelopment design plan on the Hotel (ST, 1987b). Of the nine proposals submitted for the tender, the proposal with the lowest bid by the two banks won the tender because, the government announced, the design closely followed ‘the architectural style and intensity of use of Raffles Hotel’ (BT, 1988b), which the banks had earlier announced that they were committed to restore to its ‘colonial splendour’ (BT, 1988a). Even then, the final renovation plan was delayed because of ‘the keen interest which various bodies are taking in the project’ (RHAR, 1988). The Hotel finally closed in March 1989 for renovations. Developmentalism, Nostalgia and Authenticity Through this period of decay and uncertainty as the networks of capital adapted to the sovereignty of nation states, the domesticity of the Hotel transfigured into a space of nostalgia and authenticity shared by expatriates, local business and governmental elites and state agencies, all groups that were closely associated with the new networks of capital. The Hotel became a space for reflection on the legacies of colonialism and the politics of postcolonial identity and authenticity, its monumental timelessness became a question of its temporal location between past and present as a national monument. But at the same time, the Hotel was a space pervaded by the emerging transnational networks of capital, which were beginning to make their effects felt in Singapore as the developmental state prepared the spatial infrastructure to engage and harness the networks for sustained economic development after successful primary industrialization. The temporal location of the Hotel between past D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel 185 and present became a question of whether the past may be preserved profitably in a globalizing world, whether nostalgia can be a commodity. At the height of the uncertainties caused by state intervention in the 1980s, some 10 books were published on the Hotel, from British-born Ilsa Sharp’s tone-setting There is Only One Raffles to American-born Gretchen Liu’s Raffles Hotel. The latter was the curator of the Raffles Hotel Museum and the wife of architect and urban planner, Liu Thai Ker, who headed the committee that picked the winning redevelopment design for the 1988 tender. In these books, legends, stories, myths, memories, photo- graphs, old and new, and personal experiences were intertwined with historical facts. The Hotel published a few of these, and 50,000 copies of these books were reportedly sold between 1984 and 1989, at the height of the uncertainty over the Hotel’s fate, in the Hotel alone (Pregarz, 1990, p. 10). The authors represented an emerging stratum of transnational elites living and working in Singapore, who could harness the symbolic means to prove to the government elites, in the words of one regular guest- turned-author, Raymond Flower, in his foreword to former manager Roberto Pregarz’s book, ‘how profitable nostalgia can be’ (1990, p. 8). An Austrian author and his Singaporean co-writer, while doing research on their Raffles Hotel book in 1987, found the ‘priceless original building plans’ of 1897, the discovery of which Sharp wrote in an article in the daily, Straits Times, would accelerate ‘the impetus for resto- ration’ (ST, 1987a). Renovation followed the principle of profitable nostalgic authenticity advocated by the transnational elites. The Hotel insisted it was ‘restoration’ rather than renovation, with the question being one ‘of bringing back the past to sell it in the future’ (BT, 1989). According to the plan, the Hotel returned to its original six social and business outlets, the Raffles Grill, Writers’ Bar, Tiffin Room, Palm Court, Bar and Billiard Room, and the Lobby, though the location of each was moved and they were extensively renovated to reflect the mood and character of each outlet. For instances, the Writer’s Bar received a wall of first-edition works by famous writers connected to the Hotel, the imperious Raffles Grill displayed Chippendale furniture, period landscape paintings and silver- ware, and the Bar and Billiard Room reflected the ‘chauvinism of the 20s’ with its ‘masculine teak furniture and rugged flooring’ (BT, 1989). Here, authenticity was not about the reality of the past or the actuality of physical manifestation, but the accentu- ation of the essence of a particular place that was nostalgically represented rather than historically appraised. Relic silverware and chinaware found in the storerooms during restoration were themselves restored for use by guests, in accordance with ‘the hotel’s theme to recapture the atmosphere of the 1920s…to enhance the nostalgic 1920s feel- ings’ (ST, 1989b). Even the uniforms of the employees were modeled on the principle, with the staff of each outlet having its own unique uniform to capture its nostalgic essence. For examples, the Bar and Billiard Room staff wore period clothes that mimicked colonial wear in the 1920s, with women in long flowing skirts and fluffy cotton tops and men in tuxedo-vests and bowtie, while the Tiffin Room staff wore Asian-collar jackets, a cross between the Mao and Nehru suits, and batik sarongs for the females to serve local delicacies and curries. Sikhs, an ethnic group traditionally employed in the colonial security forces, were employed as doormen. But if the authentic 1920s was the vantage point for the nostalgia of the inner social space of the Hotel, the planners set 1915 as the benchmark year for the authenticity of the original architecture (Urban Redevelopment Authority and Preservation of D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 186 D. P. S. Goh Monuments Board [URA & PMB], 1997, p. 9). A set of six postcards on sale at the Hotel, reproduced from original drawings in the Hotel’s collection, presents the narra- tive, from a view of the main building in 1900, the two views of the Bar and Billiard Room, before and after its 1907 renovation, the Bras Basah Wing opened in 1904, the cast-iron portico built in 1913, to the last overview of the Hotel astride the artery of the transcolonial networks, with the caption, ‘By 1915 all of the hotel’s historic build- ings were in place’ . As a result of this historicization, the ballroom at the front of the Hotel, which represented the nostalgic 1920s more than any other place in Singapore, was demolished and the intricate cast-iron portico the ballroom had replaced restored to serve as the grand entrance to the Hotel, as can be seen in Figure 1. An unaware Hotel spokesman remarked, ‘It was at this portico that the beaux of the day dallied with romantic intent as young ladies arrived in their finery to dance the night away’ (ST, 1990). The Hotel went to great lengths to research the portico, visiting archives in Singapore and Glasgow and the original Scottish company that made the portico, so that an American foundry could reproduce the portico as accurately as possible (ST, 1991). Figure 1. The main entrance of the Raffles Hotel, with the cast-iron portico greeting and sheltering guests alighting from vehicles. Why was the portico so fetishized by the urban planners and restoration architects? Why did they opt for the portico over the ballroom? At the heart of the question here was anxiety with the authenticity of the Hotel in representing the nation. Many locals dismissed the Hotel as a colonial hangover and a symbol of European elitism and prejudice. The government-led restoration of the Hotel into a world-class hotel for the Figure 1. The main entrance of the Raffles Hotel, with the cast-iron portico greeting and sheltering guests alighting from vehicles. D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel 187 global jetsetters added fuel to the fire. The restoration of the cast-iron portico repre- sented two complementary re-inscriptions of historical memory that resolved this crit- icism. First, the European heritage was cleansed of its decadence and remembered for its benevolence. In the preservation guidelines, the URA and PMB describe the Hotel as reflecting ‘the European roots of the social and cultural development of the coun- try’ and testifying to ‘the aspirations of Singapore’s multi-racial population’ (1997, pp. 2–3). But the inherent contradiction in this view is that the roots are colonial, in which racial discrimination was the rule rather than exception. Thus, in the guide- lines, the Europeans are remembered instead as ‘a small, friendly and hospitable community in the cosmopolitan society in Singapore often interacting freely with their Asian counterparts’ (URA & PMB, 1997, p. 13). Historical amnesia went hand in hand with the demolition of the ballroom, the symbol of European decadence, prej- udice and denial, and colonial domesticity was re-written as nostalgia for a cosmopol- itan age of authentic relations between Europeans and Asian. In establishing the Hotel as national monument, the developmental state adopted the narratives of the transna- tional elites published in the 1980s and 1990s, eliding the racial, gender and class divisions of the past so that present divisions could be disciplined. Considered together with the conservation of Chinatown, Kampong Glam and Little India as tour- ist attraction and national heritage sites in the same period (Kong & Yeoh, 2003), Raffles Hotel formed the ‘Others’ component, often represented by Eurasians, in the monumentalizing of the state’s official Chinese-Malay-Indian-Others multiracialism. The cast-iron portico, an artifact of the Art Nouveau aesthetics of industrialization, or as acknowledged in the preservation guidelines, ‘an influence of the Victorian industrial movement’ (URA & PMB, 1997, p. 18), represented instead the meeting point of European and Asian aspirations, linking the developmental state’s economic programs of industrialization with the Victorian industrialization that built Singapore and an Empire based on trade. Thus, the pro-government Straits Times wrote in response to criticisms of the restoration, that ‘Raffles should not be looked at in isola- tion’, but as ‘part of a bigger complex of historic buildings that grew with Singapore’, with the buildings blending ‘into a charming colonial era look which over the years has taken on a distinctive Singaporean personality’ (ST, 1989a). This was the spatial component of the utopian Singapore Story being invented in this period: successful national development on British colonial legacies, in which racial, class and gender divisions were overcome to realize the authentic cosmopolitan city that Singapore had always been in essence. With the portico, sojourners of the emergent transnational networks disappeared into the Hotel. There was no longer any outward verandah gazing at scurrying natives in daylight, nor the reversed gaze at performances of time- lessness at nighttime, but an impervious cast-iron barrier of postcolonial authenticity and profitable nostalgia exuding the state-led Asianization of European industry. Millennial Capitalism, Cosmopolitanism and Hybridity The renovated Hotel and its adjoining new development, called the Raffles Hotel Arcade, opened in late 1991. The re-opening poster is an exercise in minimalist graph- ics showing the rooftop of the Hotel’s distinctive front façade on a backdrop of a dark blue sky that occupied most of the poster. The words ‘Today at 10 a.m. a little bit of history will be made at the corner of Bras Basah and Beach Roads’ hovered above the D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 188 D. P. S. Goh Hotel at the center of the poster. An emphatic ‘The Legend Resumes’ at the bottom of the poster heralds the reopening. But its simplicity says a lot about the Hotel’s coming transfiguration, prophesying that the continuation of the legend would see the Hotel transcending the very domesticity and nostalgic authenticity it is grounded in. The mobilities of capitalism have shifted from the imperialist control and nationalist devel- opmental harnessing of capital circuits in the earlier two eras to accelerated capital and commodity flows in a new transnational market order. In the subsequent decade and a half, the story still running as this article is written, the Hotel transfigured into a magical space of ‘millennial capitalism’, which the Comaroff and Comaroff describe as ‘a capi- talism that presents itself as a gospel of salvation’, ‘that if rightly harnessed, is invested with the capacity wholly to transform the universe of the marginalized and disempow- ered’ (2000, p. 292). In the same year as the Hotel reopening, the Singapore develop- mental state launched its strategic plan to harness millennial capitalism to become ‘a developed country in the first league’ in three to four decades, with ‘economic dyna- mism, a high quality of life, a strong national identity and the configuration of a global city’ as the main targets (Singapore Ministry of Trade & Industry, 1991, p. 2). As the Comaroffs (2000, p. 305) point out, neoliberal globalization intensifies ‘the abstractions inherent in capitalism itself’, alienating labor from its human context, substituting society with the market and building a cosmopolis of ‘aggregated transac- tions’. In the context of our discussion, the city space that Raffles Hotel is situated in has been transformed into a flow of consumption between the vernacular and the cosmopolitan, in which citizens are called to have a taste of the capitalist paradise of perpetual shopping, eating and drinking. The civilization of commodities forms a trian- gle around Raffles Hotel. To the west and south stand the hypermodern Raffles and Suntec Cities, with their international convention centers, towering world-class hotels and high-end shopping malls. The civic cultural district spreads out to the north, consisting of conserved and new buildings housing museums, libraries, a business university, drama centers and art schools. To the east is found the former artery of the imperial networks, the area around Bras Basah and Bugis roads, now remade into the vernacular of repackaged old trades, street food and nightlife, or, as the Prime Minister describes, ‘It’s something new and exciting but also something old and nostalgic about Bras Basah, Bugis’ (ST, 2005). The symbolic axis of the space balances between the cosmopolitan elite and the vernacular masses, with the commodified cultural produc- tion organized by the developmental state as mediation. The Singapore Tourism Board thus produces ‘Uniquely Singapore’ as ‘an overarching brand’ that ‘captures our mix of cultures and languages, our history and traditions, our cosmopolitan society and heartland living’. Government officials cite Singapore’s hawker food centers and the Hotel as icons of the vernacular and the cosmopolitan (ST, 2004). But Raffles Hotel is not merely or wholly an elite cosmopolitan space. Rather, in its transfiguration in the new transnational networks of capital, the Hotel is a space that contained and ordered the triangle of cosmopolitanism, the vernacular and commodi- fied cultural production. The Hotel is a space of hybridity containing these sometimes contradictory multiplicities. The restored old portion of the Hotel is the space of cosmopolitan elitism, closed off to the common public and increasingly frequented by the very important and the famous. In this space, the cosmopolitan-vernacular hybridities of globalization are celebrated. Behind the cast-iron portico, their racial, gender, class and power conjunctions and disjuncture are safely shielded from the D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel 189 critical gaze of the masses. At the Hotel in 2006, Queen Elizabeth II awarded a Singaporean membership in the Order of British Empire during her state visit for his work in developing youth ‘self-reliance, perseverance and a sense of responsibility through expeditions, community service, skills development and physical recreation’ (ST, 2006a). The postcolonial irony lies in a white female monarch rewarding a middle-class Chinese male citizen of a former colony of her state a colonial medal for promoting what are, in fact, the values of rugged and disciplined capitalist-gentleman masculinity similar to her country’s Victorian tradition during its imperial heyday. Popular criticisms of the race-gender-class vectors of cosmopolitanism in the intimacy between Caucasian expatriates and local women are neutralized by the mainstream press in the symbolic space of Raffles Hotel. Its executive assistant manager, a Nigerian-born Singaporean Indian, was celebrated in 2003 for his engage- ment to a Brazilian-Czech hotelier. The Straits Times characterizes this as part of the Reverse Pinkerton Coupling trend of white woman who ‘embraces all things Asian, including the men’, marrying Asian man who is ‘a confident global nomad, unafraid of the expressive Caucasian woman’ (ST, 2003b). In relation to Maugham’s gendered tropes, the dangerous femininity of the white woman and the dangerous masculinity of the Asian man are serially combined here to create a pairing to offset the postcolo- nial anxiety of rich white men seducing and running off with naïve native women, which is itself symbolic of the fear of Western neo-imperialist capitalist exploitation. But in relation to the opposition of cosmopolitan and vernacular in neoliberal discourse, all danger is erased in the reverse coupling, with the couples exemplifying social, cultural and physical mobility, demonstrating the possibility of being both cosmopolitan and vernacular, being ‘global in their outlook’ but ‘as Singaporean as they come’ in their ‘day-to-day lives’ (ST, 2003b). The new Arcade extension is the primary meeting point between cosmopolitan and vernacular in the Hotel space, where visitors could walk in from the streets and move around freely. Here the differences of past and present, East and West, cosmopolitan and vernacular are commodified and erased in the hedonistic fantasy of mobility and hybridity. The Hotel’s reopening press release announces that it ‘has carefully balanced the best of East and West by juxtapositioning high fashion, exclusive jewel- lery, watches and luxury leather goods with an array of Asia’s finest craftsmanship including Chinese and Thai silk, cloissoneware, carpets, pewter and antiques’ (Raffles Hotel, 1991). A visitor entering the Arcade’s main entrance facing the Bras Basah-Bugis area would encounter some of these commodities displayed in museum cases not unlike the nostalgic displays of authentic artifacts in the Raffles Hotel Museum on the upper floor of the Arcade. A Victorian-style theater in the Arcade provided entertainment, while a range of outlets served food and drinks exuding global hybridity, including the Empire Café, ‘a typical 1920s Singapore coffee house’, Seah Street Deli, ‘a typical New York-style delicatessen’, Doc Cheng’s, a restaurant serving ‘Western cuisine created with an Asian twist’, the Royal China, ‘a top international Chinese restaurant operator based in London’, and Ah Teng’s, a bakery serving ‘delicious pastries, biscuits and cakes, as well as steaming hot dim sum’ (Raffles Hotel, 2007). Inside the Arcade, the old colonial domesticity can be experienced in a hybrid form at the Raffles Courtyard, shown in Figure 2, described by the Hotel as ‘a timeless structure with white arches flanked by tropical palms and native plants’, its ‘colonial cocktail bar’ and ‘traditional D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 190 D. P. S. Goh Figure 2. The colonial-themed Raffles Courtyard that is open to the public for food and drinks, with the skyscrapers of Raffles City in the background. A replica of the cast-iron portico can be seen at the far end of the Courtyard. D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel 191 alfresco kitchen’, which serves Asian seafood, making it ‘a pleasant place for patrons to watch the passing parade of visitors’ (Raffles Hotel, 2007). To complete the experi- ence of gazing, the towering presence of the hotel and office buildings of Raffles City in the background returns the gaze of the transnational networks, albeit in an abstract and benevolent way unlike the malevolent gaze of the native into the old extended verandah, with the Courtyard customer experiencing imaginary transnational elites peering down on them through mirrored windows as they eat and chatter the night away in the new fantastic timelessness of millennial capitalism. Figure 2. The colonial-themed Raffles Courtyard that is open to the public for food and drinks, with the skyscrapers of Raffles City in the background. A replica of the cast-iron portico can be seen at the far end of the Courtyard. Outside Ah Teng’s Bakery, where the Hotel structure covers the street pavement and turns it into a verandah, the hybridity is reversed. Figure 3 shows the verandah. Located at the junction between the cosmopolitan west, the civic-cultural north and the vernacular east, passersby are enticed to grab a bite under the shade of the Hotel’s street verandah, sit at the traditional marble-top tables of old Asian coffeeshops and gaze at the flow of people going about their business in the civilization of commodi- ties. The Hotel becomes a monument of serial hybrid imaginations, that is, in the ‘bound seriality’ Anderson (1998, pp. 29–45) discusses as global imaginations of similarity and difference running through bounded and essentialist categories. The significances of race, gender, class and sexuality are reversed, recombined and played around in simulations of signs, but the categories and their essentialisms remain intact. It becomes neither a monument for the colonial elites nor the nation but the postcolonial elites participating in the transnational networks of neoliberal capital. As Figure 3. The vernacular street verandah turned nostalgic cosmopolitan sidewalk complete with old Chinese coffee-shop tables outside Ah Teng’s Bakery. D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 192 D. P. S. Goh the Straits Times comments, the images of empire at the Arcade ‘invite us, the once colonized, to occupy the position, if only imaginatively, of the colonizers’, with the ‘English-educated, in particular, succumb[ing] to the temptation’ (ST, 2003a). It is a monument that gestures to the vernacular, but only to draw the vernacular into cosmopolitanism and transform it into cultural commodities to defuse the criticality of postcolonialism. Figure 3. The vernacular street verandah turned nostalgic cosmopolitan sidewalk complete with old Chinese coffee-shop tables outside Ah Teng’s Bakery. The selling of hybridity and mobility is not limited to the Hotel’s Singapore space. Raffles International was formed in 1989 to ride the waves of globalization and plant its brand of utopian hybridity in other parts of the world. Today, the group operates Raffles hotels in Europe, the United States and Asia. The Raffles Beijing Hotel, a joint venture with the Beijing Tourism Group, opened in 2006 following the formula of serial hybridity fusing historical and present, Western and Eastern significances. The Hotel occupied a historic wing of the Le Grand Hotel de Peking, ‘where dignitaries such as Chinese revolutionary leader Sun Yat Sen and French general Charles de Gaulle once hobnobbed’ (ST, 2006b). Refurbished ‘in a mix of French colonial and Oriental styles’ (ST, 2006b), Raffles Beijing celebrates the dramatic rise of contempo- rary China, with a touch of French anti-Americanism, and defuses its terrifying impli- cations, which Napoleon predicted if the sleeping giant should awake. Shaped as a pyramid and housing a tropical garden modeled after Singapore’s famous Botanic Gardens, Raffles Dubai, a joint venture with a member of the emirate’s ruling family, opened in 2008 to the fanfare of a Chinese lion dance. It is not the Raffles brand per se that makes the successful globalization of the Hotel possible, but this formulaic hybridity that makes it a successful global brand. As such, Raffles Hotel is no longer about the cultural production of a commodity space, but a cultural product in its own right. Thus, there was a hardly a protest when the national monument was sold along with Raffles International for a big windfall to local capital, both state-owned and privately held, to American global investment company Colony Capital and Saudi Prince Alwaleed bin Talal’s Kingdom Holding in 2005. Nothing was or can be substantially changed, since the law protects the Hotel as a heritage site. In any case, the new owners are interested in the global brand name rather than the Hotel per se, and plans for expansion to global cities in the Gulf king- doms, Canada and the United States are afoot. The international Raffles chain remains under Singaporean management, thus indicating that the sale is a strategic move to foster transnational elite connections that would place Singapore as a key node in the booming tourist industry stretching from the Middle East to East Asia and North America. This is the very logic of Singapore’s globalization as it partakes of the neoliberal order of regulated free markets and constitutional politics, in which it builds its own commercial empire through alliances and stakeholder relations with both established Western capital and emerging Asian capital by touting the very brand of Singapore. State-led capital brands and sells Singapore as a unique global city with its utopian hybridity that promises to break down the divisions of East and West and pacify the age-old racial, class and gender divisions of capitalism. Conclusion Monuments express power. Some monuments express this in an explicit and epic way, like the Stalinist statue, the Lincoln Memorial or the Arc de Triomphe, their D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel 193 semantics and psychic resonance clearly evident in their directly interpolating form. Others are more subtle, like the Vietnam War Memorial or Singapore’s Civilian War Memorial, which is a towering four-pillar structure symbolizing the country’s four major races and located across from Raffles Hotel. Neither epical nor subtle, monuments to capital like the Raffles Hotel are insidious in their expression of power, because they transfigure according to the changing commodity logic of capi- talism. Their transfigurations, resonating with the capitalist logic of the era and the subjects capital produces, prevent them from becoming fossilized into the merely ideological or becoming political sites of discursive struggle. They function in the reproduction of elite subjectivities and the needs and desires of these subjectivities in the different ages of capital. As I have shown, the Raffles Hotel transfigured from a manifestation of colonial domesticity in the colonial age, to one of nostalgic authenticity in the national period, and to a monument of cultural hybridity in the transnational age. As monuments to capital, hotels give us access into the secret symbolic processes of the rapidly changing mobile city. Transnational capital flows can be indexed by numerical figures, but we need to see how these flows, carried in commodities, cultural images and tourists, physically and symbolically transform the city as they traverse and circulate through its streets. They also transform state and society as state actors and other social agents attempt to control, harness and facilitate the flows through spatial production. In the process, race, class, gender and sexuality are medi- ated through each other, so that the ruling elites of the age can manage these social categories through the changing spatiality of the mobile city. Hotels, particularly heri- tage hotels, as icons of urbanity and mobility occupy a key place in the process. The hotel space is not so much the space of historical erasure or modern abstraction as the space of formal management and manipulation of cultural signs and significance, that is, in the case of Raffles Hotel, the manipulation of racial, gender, class and sexual meanings through the forms of domesticity, authenticity and hybridity that are manifested in the architecture of the Hotel. Therefore, by digging into the layers of changes to the Hotel’s architectural space, we can see the otherwise ephemeral cultural manifestations of capital flows and the ensuing cultural politics that shape state and society in different eras. This is a cultural archaeology of capitalism as well as an urban sociology of spatial- cultural politics. It shows the mobile city to be socially stratified, such that the varying mobility of segments of the population as it is shaped by the urban architecture corre- sponds to the opportunities for their social mobility. We find thus the Raffles Hotel opened and closed to specific groups of people through the ages of capital, from the Hotel as a place of white refuge amidst bustling native streets during the colonial era to the struggles over control of the space by unions, the local bourgeoisie and the state in the postcolonial era. Today, the Hotel space is an intricate complex of public access and restriction that manage the pedestrian and consumer traffic through its courtyards, arcades and verandahs and define the cosmopolitan elite hosted in its exclusive inner sanctum against the mobile masses coursing through the city outside. The process is dialectical and complex and shows that the global city is not made by transnational capitalist forces but, in the Singapore case, by the developmental state harnessing and facilitating capital flows for global city-making with the ensuing spatial-cultural politics of mobility in tow. Wharton’s (2001) analysis of Hilton hotels as artifacts of D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 194 D. P. S. Goh globalizing Americanism during the Cold War suggests that features of the Raffles Hotel transfiguration are seen in global hotel chains. The building of Raffles Hotels throughout globalizing Asia with its Singapore branding and utopian hybridity suggests a new age of Asian capitalism is upon us, in which developmental city-states play a central role in actively making mobile cities. Acknowledgements I am grateful to Natalie Oswin, Brenda Yeoh, Philip Holden, Chua Beng Huat, Elaine Ho, Kelvin Low and the reviewers and editor of Mobilities for their critical comments. References Anderson, B. (1998) The Spectre of Comparisons: Nationalism, Southeast Asia and the World (London: Verso). Appadurai, A. (1990) Disjuncture and difference in the global cultural economy, Public Culture, 2(2), pp. 1–24. Applin, R. V. K. (1994 [1937]) Bathing at Raffles Hotel, in: J. Bastin (Ed) Travellers’ Singapore: An Anthology, pp. 143–146 (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press). Asia Wall Street Journal (1980) Sadly the next ball at Raffles may be a Wrecker’s, May 15, Hong Kong, pp. 1, 9. Bleackley, H. (1994 [1928]) The Europe and Raffles Hotels, in: J. Bastin (Ed), Travellers’Singapore: An Anthology, pp. 202–213 (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press). Business Times (1979) Raffles Hotel at the crossroads, Singapore. March 15. Business Times (1986) Making Raffles Hotel a crown jewel, Singapore. December 24. Business Times (1988a) $55 million facelift for an old lady, Singapore. February 25. Business Times (1988b) Raffles Hotel owners win site tender, Singapore. August 1. Business Times (1989) Back to the past and into the future, Singapore. June 24. Clancy-Smith, J. & Gouda, F. (Eds) (1998) Domesticating the Empire: Race, Gender, and Family Life in French and Dutch Colonialism (Charlottesville, VA: University Press of Virginia). Collingham, E. M. (2001) Imperial Bodies: The Physical Experience of the Raj, c. 1800–1947 (Cambridge: Polity Press). Comaroff, J. & Comaroff, J. L. (2000) Millennial capitalism: First thoughts on a second coming, Public Culture, 12(2), pp. 291–343. Flower, R. (1986) Year of the Tiger (Singapore: Raffles Hotel). Gaonkar, D. P. & Povinelli, E. A. (2003) Technologies of public forms: Circulation, transfiguration, recognition, Public Culture, 15(3), 385–397. Harben, H.D. (1994 [1936]) The most colourful town in the world, in: J. Bastin (Ed) Travellers’Singapore: An Anthology, pp. 231–236 (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press). Henderson, J.C. (2001) Conserving colonial heritage: Raffles Hotel in Singapore, International Journal of Heritage Studies, 7(1), pp. 7–24. Holden, P. (1996) Orienting Masculinity, Orienting Nation: W. Somerset Maugham’s Exotic Fiction (Westport, CT: Greenwood Press). Holden, P. (1999) The free market’s second coming: monumentalising Raffles, in: P. G. L. Chew & A. Kramer-Dahl (Eds) Reading Culture: Textual Practices in Singapore, pp. 83–98 (Singapore: Times Academic Press). Horan, W.R. (1994 [1935]) Singapore’s seething life, in: J. Bastin (Ed) Travellers’Singapore: An Anthology, pp. 213–223 (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press). Hutton, W. (1978) Grand hotels of Asia: 2, Silver Kris, May-June: 29–33. King, A. (1995) The Bungalow: The Production of a Global Culture (New York: Oxford University Press). D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 Capital and the Transfiguring Monumentality of Raffles Hotel 195 Kong, L. & Yeoh, B. S. A. (2003) The Politics of Landscapes in Singapore: Construction of ‘Nation’, (New York: Syracuse University Press). Lai C.-K. (2005) Concrete/concentric nationalism: The architecture of independence in Malaysia, 1945– 1969, Unpublished thesis, University of California, Berkeley, 2005. Marx, K. (1976 [1867]) Capital: A Critique of Political Economy, Volume 1, trans. B. Fowkes (London: Penguin Books and New Left Review). Morris, J. (1983) Stones of Empire: The Buildings of the Raj (Oxford: Oxford University Press). Pregarz, R. (1990) Memories of Raffles: 22 Years with a Grand Old Hotel (Singapore: Treasury Publishing). Raffles Hotel (2007) Dining in Raffles Hotel. Available at http://singapore-raffles.raffles.com/z912/ restaurant.html (accessed 13 February 2007). Sharp, I. (1981) There is Only One Raffles: The Story of a Grand Hotel (London: Souvenir Press). Singapore Government (2000) Singapore Annual Report on Tourism Statistics. Available at http:// app.stb.com.sg/asp/tou/tou03.asp (accessed 9 September 2007). Singapore Ministry of Trade and Industry (1991) Strategic Economic Plan: Towards A Developed Nation (Singapore: SNP Publishers). Singapore Monitor (1982), December 28, Singapore. Singapore Monitor (1982) New tower block for Raffles Hotel, 28 December, p. 12. Stoler, A. L. (2002) Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the Intimate in Colonial Rule (Berkeley, CA: University of California Press). The Straits Times (1980a) Incentive offer to preserve Raffles? 16 July, p. 1. The Straits Times (1980b) Raffles Hotel owners to go it alone, 16 August 16, p. 9. The Straits Times (1986) When prestige counts – a suites-only Raffles Hotel, 11 December, p. 14. The Straits Times (1987a) Restoration of Raffles to start soon? 4 April, p. 19. The Straits Times (1987b) Raffles’ growth hinges on who gets land next door, 9 December, p. 26. The Straits Times (1989a) Much ado about the Raffles, 15 March, p. 27. The Straits Times (1989b) Treasure trove of relics found at Raffles Hotel, 23 June, p. 2. The Straits Times (1990) Raffles Hotel globe-trots in search of lost portico design 7 December, p. 5. The Straits Times (1991) A grand old lady returns, June 26, pp. 1–2. Straits Times (2003a) When laws of the jungle fail in the jungle…, April 4. The Straits Times (2003b) Sarong party boys, 5 October, p. 8. The Straits Times (2004) Why ‘Uniquely Singapore’ 24 March, p. 19. The Straits Times (2005) Remaking Singapore as a vibrant global city, 23 August, p. 6. The Straits Times (2006a) UK award for man who put youth on right track, 26 March, p. 14. The Straits Times (2006b) Raffles Hotel – in Beijing, 28 June, p. 3. Urban Redevelopment Authority and Preservation of Monuments Board (1997) Raffles Hotel Preservation Guidelines, Volume I (Singapore: The Authority and Board). Wells, C. (1994 [1940]) Raffles Hotel, in: J. Bastin (Ed) Travellers’Singapore: An Anthology, pp. 242– 249 (Kuala Lumpur: Oxford University Press). Wharton, A.J. (2001) Building the Cold War: Hilton International Hotels and Modern Architecture (Chicago, IL: University of Chicago Press). Yeoh, B. S. A. (2003) Contesting Space in Colonial Singapore: Power Relations and the Urban Built Environment (Singapore: Singapore University Press). D o w n l o a d e d B y : [ G o h , D a n i e l P . S . ] A t : 0 1 : 5 2 1 4 A p r i l 2 0 1 0 
work_nk7bxfb4kjem3pp7sxpmjsma5u	----	A BYZANTINE LOOKS AT THE RENAISSANCE Geanakoplos, Deno J Greek and Byzantine Studies; Oct 1, 1958; 1, 2; ProQuest pg. 157 A Byzantine Looks at The Renaissance The Attitude of Michael Apostolis Toward the Rise of Italy To Cultural Eminence DENO J. GEANAKOPLOS University of Illinois T HAT WESTERN THOUGHT OF THE RENAISSANCE was molded to a considerable degree by Greek learning is well known. The efforts of Italian statesmen such as Lorenzo de'Medici and Popes Nicholas V and Leo X to amass libraries of Greek manuscripts, the warm reception accorded to many Greek ref- ugee-teachers, and the establishment of numerous professorial chairs of Greek in leading universities - all attest to a vital interest in the assimilation of Greek culture on the part of Western Europe during the Quattrocento and Cinquecento. A number of contemporary Western humanists have left us indications of their high esteem for Greek letters, l and some of these views have been woven into modern studies on 1 To cite only one example, a typical statement of the great Erasmus, who, in a letter to one of his patrons, Anthony of Bergen, Abbot of St. Bertin, says: "We have in Latin at best some small brooks and turbid pools, while the Greeks have the purest fountains and rivers flowing with gold." Latin original in P. S. Allen, Opus Epistolarum Des. Erasmi Roterdami, 1 (Oxford, 1906), epistle 149; and for translation see P. Smith, Erasmus (New York-London, 1923), 46, and especially note 6 for similar expressions of Erasmus. 158 DENO J. GEANAKOPLOS [CBS I the development of Renaissance learning. Almost no effort, on the other hand, has been made by scholars to ascertain the attitude toward the rise of Italian culture of Byzantine intel- lectuals, either of those who migrated to the West or those who remained in the East. True, the sentiments of certain individual Greeks regarding the conditions of life they experi- enced in the West (for instance, of Marcus M usurus in Carpi, near Venice)2 have been made known. And, conversely, we have a fairly adequate idea of the attitude of Western human- ists and patrons toward the various emigre Greek scholars in their employ. We know, for example, that in the early stages the Westerners, mindful of their need for adequate instruc- tion, showed great respect for Greeks teaching among them. But, as increasing numbers of near-destitute refugees streamed westward after Constantinople's fall in 1453, the Westerners began to look more critically upon these men and even to formulate an opinion of many as parasites. 3 Ultimately some Italians, with no little satisfaction, came to believe that their mastery of Greek even surpassed that of their Byzantine teachers.4 Despite the progressive decline in Western regard for individual Byzantines, the culture of ancient Greece contin- ued to hold its exalted position in Western eyes. But what was the attitude, meantime, of the Byzantines themselves toward the developing talents of the West and especially of Italy, which was displacing Byzantium in the cuIturalleader- ship of Europe? I See A. Firmin-Didot, Alde M anuce et l'H eUenisme Ii Venise (Paris, 1875), 501-507 for Greek text of a letter of Musurus and 30--36 for French translation. Also on another famous Greek, Janus Lascaris, see B. Knos, Un ambassadeur de l'hellenisme: Janus Lascaris et la tradition greco-byzantine dans l'humanisme francais (Paris-Upsala, 1945), passim. a See in A. Tilley, The Dawn of the French Renaissance (Cambridge, 1918), Guillaume Bude's impressions of the Greek George Hermonymus, then teaching in Paris . ... To cite one example, note the remarks of the Florentine Angelo Poliziano on the Italian mastery of Greek, as quoted in G. Cammelli, I dotti bizantini e le origini dell'umanesimo: Manuele Crisolora (Florence, 1941), esp. 6. Poliziano says that "Athens ... has migrated with all its culture and wisdom to the banks of the Arno." 1958] A BYZANTINE LOOKS AT THE RENAISSANCE 159 It is in the hope of casting some light on this question and, at the same time, of making a small contribution to the historiography of the Renaissance that we adduce here a neg- lected discourse of Michael Apostolis of Crete. Born c. 1422 in Constantinople and, after its fall (with the exception of several trips to Italy) living his remaining years in the Vene- tian-held island of Crete, Michael is one of numerous learned Byzantines who had dreams of establishing themselves in Italy in lucrative professorships of Greek. 5 Apostolis' ambition, however, was never realized and this fact must be borne in mind when one analyzes his assessment of Western cultural accomplishments. The speech under consideration was probably composed in Crete, sometime after 1453, in response to an assertion (made presumably by an ecclesiastic, possibly a Greek Uniate) of the superiority of the Western view over the Greek regard- ing the first birth of Christ (i.e., the eternal generation of the Son in the Trinity). The title of the discourse, "Michael Apostolis to those who claim that the Westerners are superior to the Easterners with respect to the whole of philosophy and that they [the Westerners] explain perfectly the first birth of Christ and the procession of the Holy Spirit,"6 is somewhat misleading. Vir- tually nothing is said about the procession of the Holy Spirit, the emphasis being placed on the problem of the first birth of Christ. Apostolis' discussion of this question leads to his con- clusion, in agreement with the Greek church fathers, that the problem cannot be satisfactorily understood by the human 6 On the life of Apostolis (or Apostolios) see E. Legrand, Bibliographie H ellenique ou description raisonnee des ouvrages publies en grec par des Grecs au XV' et XV/" siecle, 1 (1885), LVIII-LXX and 2 (1885), 233-259. Also S. Sala- ville's brief section in Dict. hist. geog. eccl., 3 (Paris, 1924), cols. 1030-1035. For Apostolis' correspondence and additional comments on his life see H. N oiret, Lettres inedites de Michel Apostolis (Paris, 1889); G. Hyperides, MLxa~Aov 'A7TOO'TOA7] 7Top~p.aTa Tpla (Smyrna, 1876); and A. Demetracopoulos, 'EOPLKOP 'Hp.£poM'Ytop BP£TTOU (1870), 359-367. My forthcoming book on Greco-Byzantine learning and its transmission to Western Europe during the later Middle Ages and Renaissance will include a discussion of Apostolis' significance. 6 The entire discourse is published in the original Greek by B. Laourdas, under the title "MtXa7]A ' A7TOO'TOA7/ A0'Yos 7T£pl 'EAAa.OOS Kal EVpclJ7T7/S," 'E7TET7]pls 'ETatp£las BvfaPTLPwP 2:7TOVOWJI, 19 (Athens, 1949), 235-244. 160 DENO J. GEANAKOPLOS [GBS I mind. With this as a point of departure he then proceeds, in the second part of his discourse/ to compare the relative merits of Greek and Western [i.e., Italian] cultural attainments. It is this latter section which is pertinent for us here and which we now quote in its entirety: ". . . Did you understand therefore [on the basis of the first section] how great a difference there is between the Greek and the European [\'Vestern] fathers in theology and in the other branches of philosophy? 8 Would you not make obeisance before the East- erners who have discovered the beauty of letters and of philosophy itself? Who among the Europeans is wiser than Socrates, Timaeus, and Pythagoras? Who among the Westerners is equal to Plato and Aristotle and Zeno; who equal to Herodotus, Thucydides, and Xenophon? Who can rival Antiphon, Hyperides, and Demos- thenes? Who can be compared with Orpheus, Homer, and Stes- ichorus in poetry; who with Plotinus, Proclus, and Porphyry; with Arius, Origen, and Eusebius, men [i.e., heretics] who have split the seam of Christ's garment? Who can be compared with Cyril, Gregory, and Basil; who, in the field of grammar, can equal or approach Herodian, Apollonius, and Trypho? I think you might say Cicero, the savant, and the poet Vergil. But as the saying goes, 'Not even Hercules can vanquish two menl' Much less two [\'Vesterners] in comparison with two thousand men [of the East]. 'But we [\'Vesterners],' you may say, 'have more than two thousand.' I agree completely and I have even antici- pated such an answer. But do you not understand that Athens alone of all Greece was able to give birth to more philosophers than all Italy had or has? Now, however, I admit, we are the remnants of the Greeks, a view with which you of course agree willingly. You Italians of the present age are the foremost (Td. 7rPWTa) of the Italians. I say that you are the foremost and that we are the remnants (Td. Af.[t/lava) because, in the cycle of civilization, which has a beginning, a middle, and an end, we are in the closing 7 The first section of the discourse, though irrelevant for the purpose of this article, is very interesting because of Michael's mention of, and comments on, the philosophy of a certain Scotus (evidently he refers here to the work De divi- sione naturae of the Ninth Century Western theologian, John Scotus Erigena, rather than to the late Thirteenth Century, Duns Scotus). On the basis of the Greek church fathers and also of Aristotle, Apostolis, though a Uniate, condemns Scotus' theological position on the question of Christ's first birth. For text see Laourdas, op. cit., 239-243. 8 The translation printed here is my own. It is, to my knowledge, the first rendering into English. I· 1958] A BYZANTINE LOOKS AT THE RENAISSANCE 161 stage of our culture, while you are in the first phase. And we are enslaved whereas you are free. Yet though we are in such a condi- tion, one can observe, now as well as in the past, that throughout all Italy many Greeks are teaching Latin to Westerners. No one, however, has ever seen or heard a Westerner teaching Greek in Greece. And even if anyone can or should desire to do so it would be impossible, as the ruler of the Turks [text = Huns] has de- voured all Greece and is now already seeking to enslave Europe. May he be destroyed by God who has permitted him to be- come so strong and sated with our blood. 0 Christ-Emperor, stop him, stay his violence and deflect his knife and spear. Have pity on us, be merciful, reconcile yourself with us and watch over us who are again like the lost drachma (T~V a:lrO;u.vp.€v'Y]V 1raALV opaxp.~v).9 Recall our scattered race so downtrodden and humble. Grant to your servants of the West concord, strength, and force of will, zeal and mercy. Remove from us the bitter executioner and enemy; grant harmony to all who bear the name of Christ even if this hitherto has been impossible. But now let them [the Christians] enjoy concord because of the Turks who commit evil acts without ceasing and tread upon your holy vessels, insulting the pure faith and the church itself, to which you have promised, 'Nor can the gates of Hell prevail over the Church.' 10 Yours is the will when you will, yours the strength when the time is worthy, yours the honor, glory, and strength throughout the centuries." 11 It is evident from the foregoing that though Apostolis never relinquished his belief in the cultural superiority of the Greeks, he is, at the same time, conscious of living at an important turning point in history. He admits, however reluc- tantly (and of course 1453 is persistent in his thoughts), that the Byzantines are now only "the remnants of the Greeks" (TO. AEt.t/Java TWV ·EAA'1jvCtJv) 12 and that the Italians, though yet inferior to the ancients, herald the dawn of a new age. Note his reference to the beginning, middle, and end of the historical cycle and the relative positions of the Greeks and Italians in this process. For Apostolis there is evidently noth- ing intrinsically deficient in the Greek culture which Byzan- tium had sought to preserve intact for over a millenium. 9Luke 15.8. 10 Matthew 16. 18-19. 11 Doubtless, phrases taken from the Greek ecclesiastical tradition. 12 See text in Laourdas edition, op. cit., 243, line 25. 162 DENO J. GEANAKOPLOS [CBS 1 Indeed, in keeping with the traditional Byzantine belief in the inability of subsequent generations to improve upon the civi- lization of ancient Greece (for which view Byzantine culture has been accused, by those who fail adequately to understand it, of lacking an "idea of progress")13 Apostolis, in this treatise, seems to ascribe the collapse of the Byzantine state and culture not to any internal lack of viability but rather to the Turkish domination. Thus in a final section he invokes the aid of God to de- liver the Greek East from the bondage of the barbarian Turk. This concluding, moving part of the speech, so different in tone from the more pedestrian opening sentences and the redundancies characteristic of most of his other ,vritings, may be looked upon as an addition to the Fifteenth Century litera- ture on concordia mundi/4 an appeal to a higher unity of all Christendom, Western as well as Eastern, without regard to political or religious differences. The views expressed in the speech are, to be sure, those of a single individual-and one embittered over his failure to win scholarly recognition from the Italians. 15 Nevertheless, because some of the ideas incorporated are not uncommon to other Byzantines of the period, the discourse can probably be considered as a typical expression of the attitude of at least one important group of late Fifteenth Century Greek intellec- tuals toward the rising cultural eminence of Italy vis-iI-vis the perishing but still proud civilization of the Byzantine world. ,. On this see the recent, enlightening remarks of G. Downey, "The Byzantine Church and the Presentness of the Past," Theology Today, 15 (1958), esp. 93-98: "The view of the custodial function [of Byzantine culture] has not always been understood. This was no static situation, in which something created in the past was kept alive artificially . . . [Preserving the classics] was not a deadening process, but the practice of a technique of education which had been tried for a long time and was generally acknowledged to be what was needed ... " Cf. also R. Tsanoff, "Ancient Classical Alternatives and Approaches to the Idea of Prog- ress," Greek and Byzantine Studies, 1 (San Antonio, 1958), 81ff. a For a recent work discussing various aspects of this theme see W. J. Bouwsma, Concordia Mundi: The Career and Thought of Guillaume Postel (Cambridge, Massachusetts, 1957), esp. 64ff. 1aSee Noiret, Lettres de Michel Apostolis, epistles 27 and 92 (bis); and Legrand, Bibl. Hell., 2, epistle 5, all of which emphasize Apostolis' desire to emi- grate to the West and find a teaching position there. 
work_oqaujrhgnrfwvirpy3caexw2bu	----	THE REFLEX HAMMER In memoriam Robert Wartenberg (1887-1956) by FRANCIS SCHILLER 'WITH every tap a peculiar itching or tickling sensation may be perceived in the tendon'. So was the feeling described, ninety years ago, in the first account of the hammer as applied to the patellar tendon.' For the well equipped physician had been carrying in his bag some variant of our red rubber triangle mounted on a stainless steel handle quite some time before the words just quoted appeared in Westphal's Archiv far Psychiatrie und Nervenkrankheiten. Their author was Wilhelm Erb, who wrote in 1875 Slightly flexed at the hip and knee, the leg is held fast while all its muscles are relaxed and, with a finger or percussion hammer, a very light and elastic tap is delivered (exactly as in very light and elastic percussion of the chest or in testing for fluid in the abdomen) to the region of the ligamentum patellae. Each tap is followed by a contraction of the quadriceps, immediate like lightning, unmistacable, visible, palpable, and apparently reflex: manifestly and often quite strongly is the shank set in motion. It is extraordinarily difficult to suppress this reflex by a voluntary effort ... The reflex was a novelty in the 1870s. But the instrumental hammer was surprisingly old in the diagnosis of disease. Even more surprisingly, its use was older in a disease of the brain than in one of the abdomen or chest, and in cattle rather than man. This remains true even if we believe Josef §koda,* the great Viennese diagnostician and therapeutic nihilist: 'The abdomen has always been percussed for suspicion of too much gas in the intestine', he wrote in 1839.' Percussion of the chest, though, goes no farther back than Auenbrugger. Only then, in the middle of the eighteenth century, doctors seriously began to lay hands on their patients, not just for treatment, but for diagnosis. Auenbrugger's sonorous first axiom was 'The thorax of a healthy person sounds, when struck'.3 What inspired the friendly doctor to his discovery, we are told, was the customary checking, in his native Styria, for the fluid level of wine in the cask." Chest percussion, when it gave sounds either deeper or duller than the normal, spelt disease: cavities, effusions, and so on. A sensitive and musical man, in a musical country at its most musical period, Dr. Leopold Auenbrugger, Edler von Auenbrugg, had also written the libretto-to a comic opera for the court of Empress Maria Theresa," and a treatise On the Silent Rage or the Drive to Selfdestruction. He applied physics to medicine in the day of amateur physicists. Obviously also, he was steeped in the new vogue, morbid anatomy, or the aggressive search for the seat of disease. Auenbrugger's New Invention to Detect the Diseases Hidden Deep Inside the Chest,3 was published in the same year as Morgagni's supreme work on organ pathology (1761).5 * Pronounced 'Shkoda'. His home town was Pilsen, Boa, where the famous Czech armament works is situated. 'Skoda' means 'damag,' and 'what a pity ' 75 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core F. Schiller Auenbrugger did not require a hammer. With fingers held straight, the thorax was to be thumped directly-a fine, yet somewhat coarse way, most effective, no doubt, on rather bony chests, to be covered with a shirt 'drawn tightly', the doctor's hand sheathed with a glove 'made of unpolished leather', to prevent the slapping noise of skin clashing with skin.3 Auenbrugger's direct, or 'immediate', percussion, revived in France by Napoleon's personal physician, Corvisart, may have seemed quite refined. But it was to yield to even greater French sophistication twenty years later. Laennec had meanwhile invented indirect or 'mediate' auscultation of the chest, and employed a gadget, the 'chestviewer' (the stethoscope). Now percussion, too, became indirect, or lapercussion mddiate. The book appearing under this title in 18286 described not one but two percussion instruments: a hammer and a resonator. The second of these, called the pleximeter, was the more important, according to the author. It was nothing but a small disk, usually of ivory, to be laid on the thorax and struck. Pierre Adolphe Piorry, the inventor of the disk, did not think the hammer was indispensable for getting a good 'mediate' percussion sound. As long as the pleximeter was used for a resonator, a finger might do the tapping. But he disapproved when 'several English and American physicians who honoured me with attending my lectures tried to simplify my procedure even further, using their left index finger as a pleximeter. It gives less sound', he sadly noted, adding that, 'M. Barry has used a slender rod of ebony, ending in an olive made of gold-beater's skin* and covered with leather . . . But this again is an additional instrument . . .'. Skoda in Vienna gave credit to a Dr. Wintrich** for a little steel hammer with a caoutchouc*** end, but gkoda made use of it 'only for teaching-to enable those standing farther away to perceive the percussion sound.'2 The source Piorry gives for the idea of a hammer takes us right back to the Vienna of Maria Theresa. For herself and her country the Empress had wisely appointed a Dutch doctor from Boerhaave's School in Leyden, practically the only clinical school of her day. Hence Gerhard van Swieten, one of Boerhaave's great disciples and commentators, became her intimate adviser. He was allowed, even encouraged, to revolutionize the Vienna medical faculty and the Austrian army medical service.4 Van Swieten's professional eminence emerges from Auenbrugger's preface to his own Inventwn Novum, for it was, Auenbrugger continues, 'to his commentariis I had recourse in my difficulties, as containing everything which can be desired by the faithful observer of nature . . .'3 Granted that the half-full wine barrel gave Auen- brugger his idea of percussing another semi-hollow object, such as the chest, perhaps a passage in van Swieten about the skull, too, may have shaped this trend in his mind. In any case, this passage from van Swieten's CommentariesO is the one that inspired Piorry (or Sir David Barry) to introduce the percussion hammer. Van Swieten in * The serous outer coat of the bovine intestine which was placed for support between layers of gold leaf. ** Ebstein makes M. A. Wintrich of Wurzburg, i.e. his fellow countryman, the only begetter of the chest percussion hammer around 1840. Piorry's M. Barry of 1828 almost certainly was Sir David Barry (1781-1836)7 of London and Paris. *** Caoutchouc, like the simnultaneously discovered American Indian, was a mere oddity until the medical profession explored its possibilities in the 1750s, especially in France. From 1820 on, Thomas Hancock, an Englishman, began to manufacture rubber and make it commercially available. 76 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Reflex Hammer turn gives his source: Johann Jacob Wepfer (1620-1695) of Schaffhausen, a Swiss doctor of the previous century, justly renowned for recognizing apoplexy as the result of a haemorrhage into the brain substance. In the collected material on in- tracerebral disease Wepfer had included his observation of how local cowherds were systematically hitting their charges' heads with a mallet, a diagnostic test followed by trephining when positive.9 Consequently, we owe the percussion hammer to helminthic parasites (such as the well-known echinococcus and cysticercus). They present themselves as intestinal worms, or as hydatid cysts, in various parts of the body of domestic animals and man. Taenia multiceps, now called Hydatis Polycephalus Cerebralis, causing Coenurosis, is less well known. This hydatid, too, gives rise to enormous cavities in the brains of cattle and sheep and may cause obstructive hydrocephalus. In man, where Pierre Marie has observed it (1913), it is extremely rare. Thought to be almost extinct, coenurosis again broke out among Swiss livestock in 1959.10 'Many strange, yet not altogether unmeaning terms are given to this disease, as the gid, goggles turn, turnsick, sturdy, giddy, dunt, etc.' an expert wrote in 1837.11 The enlarging brain of the turnsick animal separates the bones of the skull at their sutures: percussion of the skull elicits what in pediatric practice is known as 'the cracked pot sound'.* To elicit the sound in children, a tap with the finger suffices; in cattle a hammer may well have been the thing. When finding that upon percussion (Piorry read in van Swieten, who had read it in Wepfer) 'close to the horns some unnatural cavity is present under the skull, the Swiss cowherds immediately trephine the place just hit. They introduce a tube through the hole, attract the fluid (spiritus), and so empty the cysts (vesicas). If these lie near the brain's surface, the treatment is successful. If they lie deeper in the cerebral substance, there is no hope, and the butcher nearby sacrifices such animals'.9 The Swiss peasants were actually doing no worse than Sir Astley Cooper, the greatest English surgeon of a century later: 'Much attached to the veterinary art . . . at his farm, near Hemel Hempstead, he used to take much pride in exhibiting a ewe which he had trephined on account of turnsick; and from whose cranium he had extracted a large hydatid. She afterwards brought him five or six good lambs', our veterinary expert of 1837 tells us. James Hogg, 'the Ettrick Shepherd', used the trans-sphenoidal approach. 'As I was frequently knitting stockings . . .' he wrote in 1807, 'I caught every sturdied sheep ... and probed him up the nostrils with one of my wires ... cured many. . .'.Il In Scotland and England, and in sheep, they were making the diagnosis without the benefit of the hammer. Also less gadget-minded than the Swiss cowherds, eighteenth-century clinicians saw no need for transferring this tool from veterinary neurosurgical practice to human internal medicine. (Besides, Auenbrugger's Inventum Novum was not yet being taken seriously.) It was left to Piorry and his nineteenth-century contemporaries to satisfy, somewhat reluctantly, a mounting taste for gadgetry. Today we do our mediate percussion of the chest again with our fingers, but for many decades the 'percussor' remained in the internist's armamentarium, where Professor Dr. Wilhelm Erb con- veniently found it, ready to be converted into a 'reflex hammer.' * Since Friedrich Betz, 1855, according to Ebstein8. (Not Vladni Betz, of the cortical giant cell. 77 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core F. Schiller For a considerable time Erb had been noticing the quadriceps reflex: to be elicited 'either above or below the patella, but with particular assurance from the ligamentum patellae'." Although he did not think the phenomenon was new or unknown in professional circles, the literature had remained 'almost completely silent' about it. Hence a short notice on this and similar tendon reflexes might not be amiss because of the frequency with which they occurred and the ease with which they might be elicited. But above all he stressed their diagnostic significance, not to be underrated because he found these tendon reflexes 'much more exquisitely brisk in many patients with diseases of the spinal cord'. Indeed they were more reliable than skin reflexes. Lest anyone had any doubt about that matter, he added that they certainly were not skin reflexes, for tapping an overlying raised fold of skin had failed to elicit them. Particularly in sensitive cases, the periosteum of the tibia lower down, not the skin, seemed to be the receptor. Direct tapping of the muscle made it contract, too. This, however, was an exclusively mechanical phenomenon, not to be called a reflex. To elicit reflexes he found the faradic current ineffective, too. Indeed, these reflexes were exclusively confined to the tendons, or perhaps the periosteum-almost any tendon accessible to the hammer, in fact. In the Achilles tendon the phenomenon must be allied to the ankle clonus, previously described in spinal disease by Charcot, and connected by Charcot with Brown-Sequard's 'spinal epilepsy'. Like the tapping, it was the sudden mechanical stretch of the Achilles tendon which produced the clonus, the proof being that plantar flexion of the big toe, i.e. passive relaxation of the Achilles tendon, was invariably capable of stopping the clonus. He agreed with Charcot's and Vulpian's correct explanation, given in 1862, for the self-maintenance of the clonus: a repeated lengthening and shortening of the tendon was caused by the examiner's continued dorsiflexion of the foot, maintained in opposition to spontaneous plantar flexion of the part. In a footnote he added his own parallel observation on the patellar clonus. As the most important question to be answered, Erb pointed to the spinal cord levels as presumably corresponding to the reflex arcs of the various individual tendon reflexes; these ought to be established. Clearly, then, in 1875 tendon reflexes as a concept-if not as a casual observation- were new, while the reflex idea in generalwas not. Reflexeswere a small piece ofground, won gradually during the centuries, in the struggle to push back the frontiers of the soul. Was the soul not the one and only ruler over man's entire behaviour? Unencumbered by religious dogma and political absolutism, a pagan Hippocrates had felt free to say that 'nature finds by itself, and not by reasoning, the means of... winking the eyes . .. Nature . . . does all that is necessary'.'2 Yet Horace's Nature -'Go and drive her out with a pitch fork, she will come back promptly'-had first to be stood on her common-sense head. The next greatest doctor of antiquity, Galen, was already living in the early Christian era and perhaps monotheistically inclined. Respiration, Galen wrote, 'comes from the soul and not from nature, since the move- ment of muscles is an act of the soul ... Although it is not possible to hold the breath for ever, one should not for that reason deny that it is voluntary . . .'. And he inveighed against the sophists who had done the denying. The eyelids, too, were 'evidently directed by our soul ... It would be useless for us to have been given them by nature, if we could not voluntarily close our eyelids when an external object comes to strike or 78 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Reflex Hammer damage the eye.' He had a point there, or at least half a point, and shrewdly he also considered some acts that seem involuntary to have a voluntary past: those auto- matisms we have learned through training.'2 It would be easy to blame Christianity for trying to keep out reflex action and give all motor acts to the soul: yet this view was also held by Aristotle. But the psyche of antiquity and the medieval soul were two different concepts. Aristotle could describe- if not fully acknowledge-a reflex when he saw one.'2 Jean Fernel (1506-1588), a French Renaissance physician, revived the idea of the involuntary nature of the respiratory and the blink reflex.'3 It took another forgetful century for it to take hold. Rene Descartes, by no means a renegade from the Faith, established a bastion for the concept of reflexes: did not even a friend's hand coming too close to your eyes without warning make you blink?'2 The soul had to reckon with a powerful new rival, better organized than the biblical 'flesh'. As light was 'reflected' from an object and thrown on the retina, so the animal spirit* too, was reflected from the seat of the sentient and volitioning soul (the pineal gland in the centre of the brain) to the nerves and muscles. For both kinds of nerves, already recognized as motor and sensory by Galen, ended in, or issued from the brain.'2 That lesions of the spinal cord could paralyze the limbs had also been known to Galen. But only Willis"I spoke of the 'sympathy' between the parts and the need for nerves to intercommunicate. And only Winslow'5 compared the sympathetic ganglia to little brains. Now neatness in the development of ideas would require the discoverer of the light reflex to side with the physiological avant-garde of his time. But Robert Whytt, who was that discoverer, did not. In the dispute between the conservative Calvinists with their tenacious animal spirits, and Haller's revolutionary, sweeping, utterly de- centralized concept of a vis nervosa and a vis insita (a power inherent in muscle), Robert Whytt, sided with the defenders of the soul.', To him, still or again in 1751, 'the involuntary motions in man are not owing to a principle distinct from the rational mind'. With a nice English sense of compromise he does ooncede, however, that when a stimulus (his term) becomes too strong we lose all previous power over the muscle. Hence, involuntary motions, yes, mechanical laws like those operative in a balance, indeed; a 'sentient principle' rather than a rational one-he would concede that, too. Still, it is the mind which encompasses them all; the soul, 'immediately and without any exercise of reason, endeavours ... to avoid and get rid of every dis- agreable sensation ...'2 Also, whether we look into Descartes, Whytt, or any of their successors before the 1830s, their use of the word reflect and reflex, though taken from optics (i.e., physics), was almost entirely metaphorical. Even when Lallemand'7, '8 studied a live human anencephalic monster, or Legallois'9 his decapitated mammals, they felt the need for involving the soul, at the risk of having to accommodate it in the spinal cord. Reflex function-part of the title of Marshall Hall's paper of 1833-we finally read, must not be confused with sensations or volition. It is 'characterized by being excited in its action, and reflex in its course . . . It appears probable that . . . this * 'Animal' spirit, spiritus animalis, from anima, the 'soul' or 'mind', pneuma psychikon in Greek. Hence not 'animal' in the usual sense although, according to Galen, animals have it, too. (GALEN: On the Natural Faculties. Trans. A. J. Brock, New York, Putnam, 1916, pp. XXXIV, XXXV, 3.) 79 p at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core F. Schiller paper may lead to . . . an accurate inquiry into the origin, course, connection and distribution of ... the nerves which constitute the arcs of the reflex function...'12 Reflexes so far had been only visceral and protective, provided by nature to safe- guard the vital functions and to prevent instant damage. Before Hall nobody had introduced this impersonal product of stimulus and response into the workings of voluntary muscles. Only an occasional practical joker, with the edge of his hand, had hitherto directed a blow against an unsuspecting quadriceps tendon, and produced a funny involuntary kick. Possibly Marshall Hall may have known ofthe phenomenon. But he had been dead for eighteen years when Erb in Heidelberg made this single reflex one of the cornerstones of neurophysiology and clinical examination. Was this truly one of Hall's prophetic reflexes? Did this knee-kick really implicate an anatomical reflex arc in keeping with his definition? Professor Westphal for one did not think so. In the 1875 volume of the Archiv that gave its readers Erb's observations, in fact on the very pages following them, the yearbook's chiefeditor, Professor Carl Westphal, published a paper of his own.2' Its title required an explanatory footnote. No won- der, for it read: On some motor phenomena produced on tendons and muscles by mechanical means. While preparing his own paper, Westphal tells us in a note that he had received the preceding article by Professor Erb. And to his astonishment he had seen that some ofthe facts reported by his honoured friend were almost totally identical with those he was about to publish himself. He deemed it necessary, therefore, to remark that already in 1871 he had become acquainted with the Unterschenkel- phanomen, as he called it, and he had never ceased to follow it since. Visitors were frequently shown the phenomenon; no case record in his Nervenklinik was complete without it. Professor Heidenhain, to whom it had thus been demonstrated in 1872, had given his permission to be called upon as a witness. But Westphal also hastened to add his conviction, based on his correspondence with Erb, that the latter's observa- tions had been made quite independently since 1870 and 1871, without any knowledge of Westphal's similar pursuits. Work on his forthcoming textbook had stimulated Erb to peruse his notes, and to publish his analysis now. Erb had agreed both to the wording ofthe above covenant, and the simultaneous publication of their papers.21 Simultaneous discoveries are common. But the exemplary, if guarded, courtesy and the fairness prevailing in this case are made even more noteworthy by the two papers seeing publication here side by side under the editorship of one of the dis- coverers. The only disagreement between knee jerks in Heidelberg and in Berlin was that Westphal-on thirty pages against Erb's ten-had to reject the view that the phenomenon was a reflex. In this, as it turned out, he was wrong. But he was right in refusing to believe in the essential role of the tendon at the receiving end of the reflex arc; the sensory receptors are in the muscle itself. Westphal's opinion of a direct percussion effect on the muscle was most convincingly refuted three years later in a series of animal experiments and clinical observations con- ducted in du Bois-Reymond's 'new' physiological laboratory, and in Westphal's own Clinic at the Charite, both in Berlin. These observationswere likewise reported inWest- phal'sArchiv bytheir young author, Sergei Ivanovich Tschirjew (or Chiriev), a Russian physiologist.22 Chiriev's elegant work on the rabbit comprised four fundamental experiments: 80 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Reflex Hammer (1) Cutting the femoral, i.e., the motor nerve to the extensor or quadriceps muscle of the knee. This abolished the 'phenomenon', or indeed, the reflex; it was not an 'idiomuscular' contraction, as Westphal had thought. (2) Cutting the sciatic, i.e., the motor nerve to the flexor muscles of the knee at the back of the thigh-antagonistic to the extensor quadriceps. This enhanced the extensor reflex. (3) Cutting the spinal cord at the level where the femoral nerve takes its origin. This abolished the reflex by destroying its centre. (4) Cutting the cord above this level. This increased the reflex. These last two experiments in particular confirmed Erb's prediction that the 'tendon reflexes' would allow one to establish the affected level in spinal cord disease. They also explained the difference inWestphal's findings, to the effect thatin tabes the reflexes were abolished, whereas they were increased in other disorders ofthe spinal cord and brain.22 Westphal's merit, however, must not be belittled. He was showing both candour and good judgment when he admitted that a patient had drawn his attention to the phenomenon. He was a 'hypochondriac', true, but also a man with 'cerebral symp- toms'; he had a spastic leg. 'Sitting on a chair and lightly tapping the region below the knee-cap, he [the patient himselfj could make the affected leg slide forward with a sudden jerk'. Westphal noticed (but did not quite appreciate) that an affection of the 'lateral column', a hemiplegia, facilitated both the knee and the 'foot (ankle) phenomenon'. In the case of tabes dorsalis, on the other hand, it was absent; hence the posterior column ofthe thoracic and lumbar cord had to be intact for the phenome- non to be present.21 In 1875 Westphal was ordinarius, i.e., head of the Department of Internal Medicine at the Charit6 in Berlin. Wilhelm Erb, on the other hand, was still far from being titled Geheimrat and Excellenz, or considered as Germany's Duchenne and Charcot rolled in one, so to speak. Only thirty-five, and by seven years Westphal's junior, Erb was still an extraordinarius, or associate professor in Friedreich's famous Heidel- berg clinic.M. b His tiny office and laboratory could hold only half a dozen students; for lack of wall space he had to balance a blackboard on his knees. But with Duchenne's death in that year, Erb became the world's unrivalled authority on electrodiagnosis and therapy. He was to lay down a number of neuromuscular syndromes, including dystrophy and myasthenia, and to revolutionize thought on locomotor ataxia, or tabes dorsalis, by statistically linking it with syphilis before the discovery of the spirochete. His clear grasp of things, his thoroughness and authority, not devoid of rudeness, also helped to promote neurology to a fully-fledged specialty, distinct from both psychiatry and internal medicine. It is rather symbolic of his commanding position that he was the first man to wield a reflex hammer and to establish the 'tendon-reflex' as a basic phenomenon. Amazing how the two companion papers of 1875 involuntarily complemented one another in giving a great deal of the essential clinical information about these basic reflexes. What their authors did not attempt to give-in fact were in no position to give-was the physiological background. Erb, Westphal and their contemporaries of 1875 were still relatively ignorant about reflex action. They had to be content with only a very general scheme, based on 81 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core F. Schiller Marshall Hall's reflex arc, based in turn on Bell and/or Magendie's law, which went back to the early part of the century. Sensory impulses might enter a presumptive 'centre' in the spinal cord via one of the posterior spinal roots, and be 'reflected' there on to the anterior spinal roots. But how to prove this postulated continuity between nerve fibres? And where did the nerve cells come in? For a few decades cells were known to exist, besides fibres, but so far the twain had hardly met. Microscopic support for such speculations was scanty and therefore reluctantly given by responsible microscopists. One of them, Otto Friedrich Karl Deiters,24 a victim of typhoid fever at the age of twenty-nine, left a brilliant monograph, published two years post- humously in 1865. No one had been better able to advance the evidence than axon cylinders originated from nerve cells, that they were the essential core of the nerve fibres, and arranged contiguously rather than in continuity. But the evidence was still hard to confirm, even for the anterior horn cells that give rise to the fibres going to the muscles. In an article immediately preceding his paper on tendon reflexes, Erb expressed the current knowledge of anterior horn cell loss in poliomyelitis25- current then for a few years only. The idea of neurons and their hair-breadth con- tiguity was yet to be confirmed, the synapse yet to come. As late as 1906 when Golgi and Ramon Cajal both went to Stockholm to accept the Nobel prize, they were taking the controversy along with them.'8 In that year Sherrington's Integrative Action of the Nervous System was published. It contained every conceivable experiment to elucidate the nature ofreflexes, and the reflex nature ofthe nervous system. The neuron theory allowed one to view the nervous system as a giant assembly of interrelated and integrated contacts and relays, clutches, switches and shunts. Now there also came an answer to the quest for the incoming limb of the 'tendon' reflex arc. Gowers and others had come to call it 'myotatic', a muscle stretch-not a tendon-reflex.26a Sensitivity of muscles, already an Aristotelian concept, had exercised the minds of early nineteenth-century physiologists from Charles Bell (1811) to Ernest Heinrich Weber (1846).26b But what were the required nerve endings by which the muscle might 'know'-and let it be known to the spinal cord-that it had just been stretched by a reflex hammer and now must briefly contract? For forty odd years microscopists here and there had noticed some spindly objects lying between muscle fibres. These, and their myelinated fibres, remained intact after cutting all the motor fibres to the muscle. At last the sensory muscle spindles were traceable to the posterior spinal roots. Here were the long suspected organs for 'muscle sense', a sense with a difference, practically unconscious, 'reflex'. Erb and Westphal had hit upon the unique spot in the body where scientific purity and simplicity reign because only two neurons are involved in the reflex. They had struck a source of untapped knowledge-knowledge that previous generations of physiologists would have found useless. The source turned into 'a sea of names and claims',27 a flood of reflexes, none of them in itself directly useful to the human body, but useful in diagnosis. 'Segmental reflexes as such exist only in the doctor's office', Paul Hoffman wrote in 192428* (and he might have added that they do not establish * He was not the author of 'Hoffman's sign', or reflex. Nor, strictly, was Johann Hoffmann (1857- 1919), successor of Erb, (also known for Werdnig-Hoffmann's disease); although he taught the sign to his assistants, it was not he, but one of them who published it. (See 28a). 82 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Reflex Hammer a diagnosis.) 'Dorland lists nearly two hundred and fifty ... Seventy-six new pathologic reflexes were described in the period from 1918 to 1935 ...' Today fewer than half a dozen are of actual interest beyond those Erb had thought of in his original paper. To elicit them has in itself become something almost 'reflex'. They are an integral part of the 'work-up', suggesting those mysterious hammer blows successively delivered to the undercarriages of stationary trains by railway men. Together with chest percussion and 'the open season for the "Hunting of the Reflex" ', with competition between authors and manufacturers, the hammers began to proliferate. Their shape really matters little. Austin Flint, the American heart and lung expert gave a list of five 'chest percussors' in 1856. We get 'Trousseau's (of Paris) slender rod of whalebone, with a conical piece of caoutchouc' vying with Bigelow's (of Boston) 'ball of worsted covered with velvet', and Marsh's (of Dublin) 'stethoscope with an India rubber ring surrounding the ear piece'.29 Laennec had used his stethoscope for direct percussion of the chest.6 Gowers, the great neurologist at Queen Square, used his for tapping the tendons*; there Dr. Purves Stuart also excelled with a hammer made of gold.90 Some hammers resembled all manner of miniature medieval weaponry: halberds, battle-axes-symbols all of the fight against disease and disorder; magic wands, T-shaped, L-shaped and ball-shaped; tipped or girded with elastic rings, some constructed even as universal tools. Duplex, triplex and multiplex hammers, with joints and screws providing means of pricking, tickling, and measuring distances between points of stimulation. Warren Plimpton Lombard, an early Harvard investigator of the 'knee-kick', advocated complex mechanical suspension methods for the extremity, to gain a more accurate insight into the variable phenomenon. He also used an 'instrument with rounded edge which is considerably heavier than the ordinary percussion hammer ... Improvements of this method', he added, 'will readily suggest themselves . . .'81 Just such an improvement (on an earlier, smaller model, vintage 1858, by Vanon) was presented to the percussing world in the 'considerably heavier' shape of the famous 'Queen Square' hammer. In that London Mecca of neurology, around 1925, Dr. Critchley remembers, a Miss Wintle, alias 'Sister Electrical' (she was the head nurse in charge of physiotherapy and radiology) 'hit upon the happy device of fitting a ring pessary to a solid brass wheel, and mounting this upon a stick of bamboo. The result was a heavy, springy, and completely painless hammer ... For years she made these herself ... and sold them to post graduate students at four shillings each ($1 then), 2s. 6d. for resident medical officers . . .'. Commercially available now and more expensive, they are a badge of the ultra-sophisticated practitioner of the art, 'most efficient in eliciting even sluggish jerks in babies as well as adults'.-0 For in the very young, the very old, the tense and the self-conscious, these reflexes may be inhibited or suppressed. To suppress them voluntarily is not even 'extraordinarily difficult', as Erb wrote, while the opposite indeed is, as Sherrington remarked: 'I cannot by any effort of my will evoke my knee-jerk.'312 Jendrassik of Budapest got around that difficulty within the first decade of the scientific 'knee-kick.' * A 'stethoscope, hammer and pleximeter in one piec', for the chest was created by Waldenburg in 1870. (Ebstein, 1913)7 83 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core F. Schiller I use my experience, [he wrote,] according to which the tendon reflexes, and the knee phenomenon in particular, become considerably enhanced when great strength is produced with the remaining muscles of the body ... The individual in case, who had no knee phenomenon by ordinary method, I set on the edge of a tablewith legs as relaxed as possible [sic] and, while I tap [sic] his patellar tendon, I request that he hook together [in e*unader auszuhangen] the flexed fingers of his right and left hands [sic] and pull them apart as strongly as possible with his arms extended forward.38 The passage suggests some of the no-nonsense attitude of the classical neurologist, especially one with Central European training, against a background of suspect individuals, shirkers, malingerers, and slackers, lurking everywhere. Under the doctor's stern, threatening scrutiny, even the table legs in his office seem to go limp as he goes to work with his hammer. While neither reflexes nor hammers in themselves were much newer than pitch- forks, they helped in the construction of a new edifice: the functioning nervous system as an assembly of interdependent and hence variably active reflexes, each one inhibited or enhanced by others. 'How delicately variable' Sherrington exclaimed over the knee-jerk.32 Still it must be classified with the 'unconditioned' variety of reflexes. When Pavlov introduced his 'conditioned reflexes', the ultimatum of the eighteenth century was reiterated: man must give up his soul and surrender to the idea of man the machine, to 'reflexology', and so on to the feedback and cybernetics. Some patients even wonder whether the reflex indicates their sanity, as it is known to be lost in general paresis of the insane. Yet between percussion below the knee cap, and sanity, there still is a long stretch of the imagination. Mind and reflex remain difficult to relate. For the student of the reflex the difficulty is as great as it is for the person who notices the effect of a blow on his patellar tendon. But for the opposite reason: the 'subject' does not feel that any reflex is taking part in his immediate experience, and the experimenter cannot see mind taking part in reflex action. To the person looking from the inside out-in 'conscious' awareness-a mechanical analysis of this awareness makes no sense; to the experimenter, looking from the outside in, nothing else does. REFERENCES 1. ERB, WIuIELM HEmnucH (1840-1921), 'Ueber Sehnenreflexe bei Gesunden und Rucken- 2 markskranken', Arch. Psychiat. Nervenkr., 1875, 5, 792-802. 2. SKODA, JOSEPH (1805-1881), Abhandlung fiber Perkussion and Auscultation, 6th ed., Vienna, Seidel, 1854. 3. CLENDENING, LOGAN, Source Book of Medical History, New York, Dover, 1942, XXVIII. Leopold Auenbrugger (1722-1809), trans. John Forbes, 1824, pp. 307-8. 4. GARRsoN, FIELDING H., An Introduction to the History ofMedicine, 4th ed., Philadelphia, Saunders, 1929, pp. 352-3, (Auenbrugger), 365 (van Swieten). 5. MORGAGNI, GIovANNI BArrITA (1682-1771), De sedibus et causis morborum per anatomen indagatis, Venice, 1761. 6. PioRRY, PmRiE ADOLPHE (1794-1879), De la percussion mediate et des signes obtenus a I'aide de ce nouveau moyen d'exploration, dans les maladies des organes thoraciques et abdominaux, Paris, Chaud6, 1828. Idem., Traite de Pl1ssimetrisme, Paris, Delahaye, 1866, pp. 17, 66 (footnote). 7. EBSTEN, ERICH, 'Der Perkussionshammer. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte der mittelbaren Perkussion', Sudhoff's Arch. Gesch. Med., 1913, 6, 245-69. (I am indebted to Dr. F. N. L. Poynter, for this well illustrated reference.) 84 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core The Reflex Hammer 8. Idem., 'Uber die Perkussion des Schadels', Z. Ges. Neurol. Psychiat., 1912, 10, 586-91. 9. SwIEmrN, GmBARDus L. B. vAN (1700-1772), Commentaria in Hermanni Boerhaave Aphorismos de cognoscendis et curandis morbis, Leyden, Verbeek, 1753, vol. III, Aph. 1010 (Apoplexia), p. 268. 10. INNEs, J. R. M. and SAUNDERS, L. Z., Comparative Neuropathology, New York, Academic Press, 1962, pp. 531-2. 11. YouArr, WIuAM, Sheep, their Breeds. Management, and Diseases, London, Baldwin, 1837, pp. 377-91. 12. HoFF, H. E. and KELLAWAY, P., 'The early history of the reflex', J. Hist. Med. 1952, 7, 21149. 13. FERNEL, JEAN (1497-1558), See 32. 14. WILLIs, THoMAs (1622-1675), See 12. 15. WINsLow, JACQUES BNIoNE (1669-1760), See 12. 16. WHYrr, ROBERT (1740-1766), See 12. 17. LALLEMAND, CLAUDE FRANQOiS (1790-1853), See 18. 18. LIDDELL, E. G. T., The Discovery of Reflexes, Oxford, Clarendon Press, 1960 (Subject and name index, biographical notes). 19. LEGALLOTs, JULEN JEAN C'sAR (1770-1814), See 18. 20. HALL, MARsHALL (1790-1857), See 12 and 18. 21. WESTPHAL, CARL FiRiwuc (1833-1890), 'Ueber einige Bewegungs-Erscheinungen an gellihmten Gliedem.-II Ueber einige durch mechanische Einwirkung auf Sehnen und Muskeln hervorgebrachte Bewegungs-Erscheinungen', Arch. Psychiat. Nervenkr., 1875, 5, 803-34. 22. TscHnEw [CHnuv], SERGEI IvANovicH (1850?), 'Ursprung und Bedeutung des Kniephbinomens und verwandter Erscheinungen', Arch. Psychiat. Nervenkr., 1878, 8, 689-712. 23a. SCHULTZE, FRIEDRICH, 'Wilhelm Erb', Dtsch. Z. Nervenheilk., 1922, 73, I-XVIII. 23b. VIETS, HENRY R., 'Wilhelm Heinrich Erb', In HAYmAKR, W., The Founders of Neurology, Springfield, Ill., Thomas, 1953, pp. 279-82. 24. DErTERS, OTro FRIEDRIcH KARL (1834-1863), Untersuchungen uiber Gehirn und Rficken- mark des Menschen und der Sdugetiere, Braunschweig, 1865. See 18. 25. ERB, W., 'Ueber acute Spinallihmung (Pollomyelitis anterior acuta) bei Erwachsenen und tiber verwandte spinale Erkrankungen', Arch.Psychiat. Nervenkr., 1875, 5, 758-91. 26a. GowERs, WILIM RiciiUD (1845-1915), 'A study of the so-called tendon reflex phenomena', Lancet, 1879, i, 156-58. 26b. BoRIN, E. G., A History ofExperimental Psychology, New York, Appleton-Century, 1929, p. 112. 27. WARTENBERG, ROBERT (1887-1956), The Examination of Reflexes, a Simplification, Foreword by Foster Kennedy, Chicago, 1945, p. VII, 4. 28. HoFFMANN, PAUL (1884?), 'Ober die Natur der Sehnenreflexe (Eigenreflexe) und ihr Verhaltnis zur Sensomotilittit', Dtsch. Z. Nervenheilk., 1924, 82, 269-80. 28a. BENDHEIM, 0. L., 'On the history of Hoffmann's sign', Bull. Inst. Hist. Med., Johns Hopk. Univ., 1937, 5, 684-86. 29. FuINT, AusT (1812-1886), Physical Exploration and Diagnosis of Diseases affecting the Respiratory Organs, Philadelphia, Blanchard and Lea, 1856, pp. 76-7. 30. CRrrcHLEY, MACDONALD, Personal communication. 31. LomBARD, WARREN PuLTMoN (1855-1939), 'The variations of the normal knee jerk and their relation to the activity of the central nervous system', Am. J. Psychol., 1888, 1, 5-71. 32. SHERRINGTON, Snt CHARLES, Man on His Nature, New York, Macmillan, 1941, pp. 269, 190. 33. JENDRASSIK, ERN6 (1858-1921), 'Zur Untersuchung des Kniephanomen's', Neurol. Zbl., 1885, 4, 412. Quoted in: FEARING, FRANKLIN, Reflex Action, a Study in the History of Physiological Psychology, New York, Williams and Wilkins, 1930, pp. 264-5. 85 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300011753 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_osajnl4szbdgxcvnglxfskd3xq	----	ORTHOIMAGES OF THE OUTER WALLS AND TOWERS OF THE CHÂTEAU DE CHAMBORD A. Pinte a , R. Héno a , M. Pierrot-Deseilligny a , X. Brunetaud b , S. Janvier-Badosa b , R. Janvier b a École Nationale des Sciences Géographiques, 6-8 avenue Blaise Pascal – Cité Descartes, Champs-sur-Marne 77455 Marne-la- Vallée cedex 2 , France, (antoine.pinte, raphaele.heno, marc.pierrot-deseilligny)@ensg.eu b Université d’Orléans, INSA-CVL, PRISME - UPRES EA 4229, 8 rue Léonard de Vinci, F-45072, Orléans, France (xavier.brunetaud, sarah.janvier, romain.janvier)@univ-orleans.fr KEY WORDS: Close range photogrammetry, Monument monitoring, Orthoimage, Unwrapped image, MicMac ABSTRACT: The château de Chambord is one of the most famous castles in the world as it is an emblem of French Renaissance architecture. It was built at the beginning of the 16 th century and has been part of the UNESCO World Heritage list since 1981. The monitoring of such a monument involves the organization and visualization of data sets such as archive documents, survey data, scientific documentation, restoration reports, meteorological data, etc. This process requires the realization of a support for documentation which may be an orthoimage. A photogrammetric survey was recently performed, in the framework of the traditional fieldwork of the students in the PPMD master's degree (Specialized Master’s in Positionning, Photogrammetry and Deformation Measurement) at the French National School of Geographic Sciences (ENSG). High resolution images were taken from the ground level, using two off-the-shelf reflex cameras, equipped with a 35 mm, a 100 mm and a 200 mm focal length lens according to the needs. The MicMac software was used for the bundle adjustment, the georeferencing and the dense correlation procedures, including orthoimage calculation. Added to plane-based orthoimages, cylinder-based orthoimages were generated for the 2D representation of the outer walls of the château de Chambord including façades and towers. Fitting the 2D projection to the mean characteristics of the geometry has a promising documentation potential for GIS applications in heritage studies. 1. INTRODUCTION The château de Chambord is one of the most famous castles in the world, as it is an emblem of French Renaissance architecture (see Figure 1). It was built at the beginning of the 16 th century and has been part of the UNESCO World Heritage list since 1981. It is made up of a simple donjon made of four round 20 m diameter towers surrounded by enclosure walls of rectangular dimensions (135 x 85 m) with four more round towers at its corners (see Figure 2). The monitoring of an historic monument involves the organization and visualization of data sets such as archive documents, survey data, scientific documentation, restoration reports, meteorological data, etc. Intuitively, a 3D model of the building would be the perfect support to map and represent all metadata [Brunetaud et al., 2012] [Stefani et al., 2014]. But even if 3D acquisition is becoming common in the field of cultural heritage, annotation of 3D representation is still a very challenging topic and is presently an active research field [Manuel et al., 2014]. Because 3D mapping technology is not available for heritage documentation yet, this paper is focused on the production of 2D digital assets for 2D mapping. For example, in some specific cases (surveying of small archaeological features), visual quality of the texture of the stone is more important than a fully detailed geometric model. So, for many annotation typologies, a 2D annotation system can be directly built on top of GIS software, only requiring 2D and metric digital assets like orthoimages. Fortunately, the façades of the château de Chambord can be simplified to a set of primitives (planes and cylinders) and this paper intends to expose the methodology of production of orthoimages of these façades into high quality orthoimages. It refers to a recent photogrammetric survey, recently carried out within the framework of the traditional fieldwork of the students in the PPMD master's degree (Specialized Master’s in Positionning, Photogrammetry and Deformation Measurement) at the French National School of Geographic Sciences (ENSG). Figure 1: General view of the “Château de Chambord” Figure 2: Plan of the “Château de Chambord” engraved by Jacques Androuet du Cerceau in 1576 ISPRS Annals of the Photogrammetry, Remote Sensing and Spatial Information Sciences, Volume II-5/W3, 2015 25th International CIPA Symposium 2015, 31 August – 04 September 2015, Taipei, Taiwan This contribution has been peer-reviewed. The double-blind peer-review was conducted on the basis of the full paper. doi:10.5194/isprsannals-II-5-W3-243-2015 243 1.1 Context of the survey As a matter of fact, students of the PPMD master's degree traditionally start their cursus with a two week fieldwork project, which gives them the opportunity of practicing photogrammetry, lasergrammetry, topometry and GNSS survey methods [Héno et al., 2011]. The PPMD students are mostly meant to be specialists in geographic information. Apart from some individual exceptions, they are neither expert in heritage, nor in architecture or history of art. But they must learn how to properly respond to specific orders, like, in this case:  Producing reference graphic documentation, showing the current aspect of the castle (3D dimensions, shapes, colors) ;  Producing extendable and sustainable documentation, that is to say explicit documentation that can be continued by other surveyors. Furthermore, they have to show the chief architect and the curator how objective and reliable the photogrammetric products can be, in comparison to older documents, whose value is, of course, not questioned, but which may contain errors mainly due to lack of observations leading to extrapolations. 1.2 Content of the survey The list of tasks to carry out was collegially defined by a team made up of professors from the ENSG, researchers from the PRISME research laboratory and Luc Forlivesi, curator of the château de Chambord, taking several aspects into account: pedagogical concerns, already existing plans and 3D data, security and overall movement possibilities inside and around the castle. Since the complete 3D survey of the castle was not conceivable in two weeks with non-professional operators, it was decided to ask the fourteen PPMD students and their professors to: 1. set up a documented network of permanent ground control points (GCPs) expressed in the French legal reference coordinate system (RGF93 in a CC48 projection), 2. register laser data, previously acquired and consolidated by the PRISME research laboratory, in the reference coordinate system, 3. acquire aerial images of the roofs from a drone and process them, 4. acquire and process laser data inside the Robert de Parme tower (the one containing the lodgings of François Ier), 5. acquire and process images to reconstruct the famous double-helix staircase, 6. acquire and process images on the outer structure of the castle, that is to say the enclosure walls and the six outer towers (see Figure 2). The present paper focuses on the work carried out in the field and back in school to produce orthoimages on the outer structure of the castle. The other workshops described above may lead to other scientific articles. 2. THE GROUND CONTROL POINT NETWORK A network of permanent ground control points was first set up around the castle. It was meant to support the georeferencing of all the workshops of the current PPMD’s fieldwork, but also to be used by any surveyor or architect who may have to work later in any part of the castle. Therefore, it must be well documented through identification sheets and properly advertised. Permanent points have been placed all around the castle, at the ground level and on the low enclosure (see Figure 3). Figure 3: Permanent ground control points (red triangles) Figure 4: Relay point to consolidate the network Highly redundant topometric observations were made between the various stations, using the base of the lightning rod of the Tour de la Lanterne as a relay point (see Figure 4), to enhance the rigidity of the figure. GNSS measurements were performed on six well distributed points of the network, so that the link to the official French reference coordinate system, RGF93 (in a CC48 projection) can be made. In order to get the best possible precision from GNSS differential measurements, a permanent GNSS station had been previously installed on top of the so- called Tour du Chaudron (see TE in Figure 5). Besides, two several hour long measurement sessions were made on each of these points, not only to reach the best possible absolute positionning, but also to be sure about it. Other points meant to be used as ground control points (GCP) for image and laser georeferencing were also set up, measured and computed in a global compensation computation. The final absolute accuracy on the base network is 2 cm in X, Y and Z, whereas the relative accuracy, that is to say the global consistency of the network, is around 3 mm. 3. PHOTOGRAMMETRY Modern photogrammetric methods were, of course, immediately considered to produce an esthetically pleasing, objective and accurate description of the outer walls. New techniques make it possible to simultaneously produce 3D georeferenced point clouds and orthoimages. The photogrammetric process can be roughly summed up in several phases: reconnaissance, Ground Control Point set up, image acquisition, image processing, final assessment and delivery. No strict specification was given regarding the image resolution: thus, it was decided as a compromise to get the best possible spatial resolution with as few images as possible, using the available photo equipment. ISPRS Annals of the Photogrammetry, Remote Sensing and Spatial Information Sciences, Volume II-5/W3, 2015 25th International CIPA Symposium 2015, 31 August – 04 September 2015, Taipei, Taiwan This contribution has been peer-reviewed. The double-blind peer-review was conducted on the basis of the full paper. doi:10.5194/isprsannals-II-5-W3-243-2015 244 3.1 Specifications For practical reasons, temporary names were given to each entity to be surveyed (see Figure 5). Figure 5: Working document with short names for each entity to be surveyed The outer surrounding wall of the castle is about 600 m long: 8.5 m high for the lower part (see the white areas in Figure 5) and about 20 m high to the roof base for the upper part (see the grey areas in Figure 5). The objective of the image acquisition is to be able to produce orthoimages of the six façades (FSO, FNO1, FNO2, FNO3, FNE & FSE) and unwrapped images of the six towers (TDS and TDE were not surveyed). The reconstruction of the wall’s relief, necessary to produce the orthoimages, is directly determined with the images acquired for the generation of orthoimages; thus, the image acquisition has also to be adapted to the 3D reconstruction methods by image matching. 3.2 Constraints The château de Chambord is one of the most visited castles among all the châteaux de la Loire. Open to the public every day of the year, it welcomes both individual visits and guided tour groups. The image acquisition was constrained by the public’s presence, especially in front of the walls facing the path to the visitor’s entrance (Southwest and Southeast part of the castle: TO, FSO, TS & FSE in Figure 5). Access constraints to traditionally closed areas also demanded special organizational efforts, since no passkey was provided to the team. Access to the north garden-bed of the castle (behind FNO & FNE in Figure 5), closed to the public, requires specific requests and was permitted only in public opening hours (9 a.m. – 5 p.m.). 3.3 Technical choices It is possible to take photographs standing back a significant distance away from the wall in a large part of the surrounding wall, facilitating image acquisition, especially with long focal length lenses. However, acquisition was complicated by the vegetation in the south and the moat along the castle throughout the Northwest and Northeast part (FNO & FNE), which includes the majority of the towers (all except TS). Stereoscopic image survey with high overlap (80%) was performed, in order to accurately reconstruct the relief by image matching methods. In order to limit the deformations on the upper parts, images must be taken as perpendicular as possible to the wall. The use of poles to take the images from a higher point of view was first considered. But this solution imposes very short exposure time, since the pole is difficult to stabilize, and thus complicates the acquisition protocol, increasing the acquisition time. It was therefore preferred to take pictures from the ground level, but to move away from the façades to improve the incidence angle of the images. So, to ensure a reasonable image resolution (a few mm), longer focal length lenses were used. All the outer walls of the castle were photographed by full-frame cameras (Canon 5D ProMark II and III) equipped with 100 mm focal length lenses. However, the orientation of images with a long focal length lens is notoriously more difficult than the orientation of images acquired by short focal length lenses [PIERROT-DESEILLIGNY et al., 2012]. Thus, to ensure a good result, the image survey was doubled by a second image acquisition of all the outer walls with a short focal length of 24 or 35 mm. The acquisition was made independently for each façade with all photographic axes parallel to each other and for each tower with convergent photo axes. Each image survey was designed to ensure an overlap with neighboring façades or towers, in order to be able to produce a rigid orientation of all the images of the outer walls. Because of a really dense planning, compromises had to be made regarding the GCPs. Fewer GCPs than what are usually required were defined: one GCP at every corner of the block for each entity plus some intermediate ones. As far as possible, artificial targets were glued onto the walls, to ensure quality measurements and to reduce the risk of error. This relatively light equipment is compensated by the possibility of identifying more GCPs in the georeferenced laser data. For some configurations, images with a 200 mm focal length lens were taken. This is the case for the North and West towers (see TN & TO in Figure 5), both bordered by the moat, which prevents the photographer from standing perfectly perpendicular to the wall. To compensate this disadvantage, it was decided, as an experiment, to move further away and to increase the focal length of the camera lens. An acquisition with a 200 mm focal length lens was also performed to cover the central part of the North West façade (FNO2). The orientation of these images, acquired by a 200 mm focal length lens, was meant to be based on the orientation of the 100 mm focal length images (itself based on the 24 or 35 mm focal length images). 3.4 Achievement During this first fieldwork session, almost all of the outer walls were acquired. Among all the images, 1595 images were selected: 508 short focal length images, 975 100 mm images and 112 200 mm images. This acquisition, although carried out with care, is not optimal for several reasons. Firstly, the educational context of the project made it obligatory to involve all the students in all the workshops, making it impossible to capitalize expertise throughout the project. On the other hand, the weather, unfavorable at this season for this type of work, but imposed by the schedule of the specialized Master’s, was not optimal for such acquisitions. 4. IMAGE PROCESSING MicMac, a set of free open source photogrammetric software to build 3D models from images, was chosen to process the images [Pierrot-Deseilligny et al., 2006]. 4.1 Image orientation The goal of this phase is to compute the position and orientation of the 1595 cameras during the image survey in the reference ISPRS Annals of the Photogrammetry, Remote Sensing and Spatial Information Sciences, Volume II-5/W3, 2015 25th International CIPA Symposium 2015, 31 August – 04 September 2015, Taipei, Taiwan This contribution has been peer-reviewed. The double-blind peer-review was conducted on the basis of the full paper. doi:10.5194/isprsannals-II-5-W3-243-2015 245 coordinate system, as well as the camera geometry itself (principal points, principal distance and distortion law). At first, tie points between all images were extracted within the MicMac software, in a specific module based on the SIFT algorithm [Lowe, 2004], followed by a multiple matching phase. To accelerate the computation, this phase was made in two steps: first, tie points between all the short focal length lens images were computed; then, for each façade or tower, tie points between the long and the short focal length images were added. More than 10 million tie points were extracted from the short focal length images, and more than 35 million in total. Then, a bundle adjustment of all 35 mm focal length images was calculated, leading to an average image residual of 0.4 pixels. This computation optionally includes an autocalibration of the camera. The principle is to start the first iterations of the bundle adjustment with an approximate camera, derived from the Exif data and a given camera model. After some iterations, the camera parameters are added to the system of equations and adjusted in a way that the average image residual is minimized. Since the focusing parameters change the geometry of the camera, the autocalibration procedure should determine different cameras when they change. It is unfortunately not done automatically, since they are not part of the Exif data. Hence, a specific recording was made in the field: as far as possible, whole sets of images were taken with the same parameters (same aperture and fixed manual focus), and anytime the focusing distance had to be modified, an image of the sky was made, so that the images could be properly sorted taking the different cameras into account. It is then possible within the MicMac software to ask for a separate camera for a specific pattern of images. At the end, 15 different cameras were calibrated for the short focal length lens images. Two types of ground control points were then measured on the 35 mm focal length images: reliable and accurate GCPs specifically designed for these images, and other GCPs designed to georeference already existing laser data (only natural points could be used for the laser georeferencing). Both types of points were weighted differently in the final bundle adjustment. At the end, 59 well-spread GCPs were measured on 341 images. The final global compensation in the MicMac software led to rather good results (average image residual around 0.4 pixels on the tie points, 0.8 pixels on the GCPs, average ground control point residual around 1 cm in X,Y,Z). Figure 6: View of the tie points and the position of the 35 mm cameras Finally, for each entity, the 100 mm and the 200 mm focal length lens images were oriented in the reference coordinate system using only the tie points with the already oriented 35 mm focal length images, using an option that “freezes” the 35 mm image poses. It must be noted that the orientation of the 100 mm and the 200 mm focal length lens images had to be done separately for each entity for computational reasons (35 million tie points to load for the overall computation!). 4.2 3D reconstruction and orthoimage production 4.2.1 Image matching from the “image” space or from the “object” space MicMac software can be used to calculate the depth map in several geometries: “image” geometry, specified by a master image, with a dynamic in 1/Z, or “cartographic” geometry, well adapted to classical aerial surveys (see Figure 7). Image matching from the image space using epipolar geometry “Cartographic” 3D reconstruction geometry Image matching from the object space Figure 7: Two 3D reconstruction geometries [Héno et al., 2014] The second approach (cartographic geometry) requires the projection plane to be defined by drawing polygons considered to belong to the main façade plane on the input images. The projection plane is then computed as the best plane passing through the tie points contained in these polygons. This reconstruction geometry makes it direct and easy to compute orthoimages. A mask is interactively drawn on a mosaic of images rectified in the projection plane to define the working area. Then, any X,Y pixel of the output orthoimage is given the best radiometry among all points where this X,Y,Z is photogrammetrically projected, taking into account possible occlusions, radiometric continuousness and incidence angles. A default radiometric equalization is applied to all individual orthoimages before merging. 4.2.2 Case of high walls: orthocylindric geometry However, since ground resolution within the images of the façade may vary considerably, especially for high walls viewed without perspective, it is not recommended to compute a depth map at a constant spatial resolution as is done when using cartographic reconstruction geometry. MicMac software also Search interval in the direction of depth D e p th m a p P ro fi le v ie w o f th e o b je c t ISPRS Annals of the Photogrammetry, Remote Sensing and Spatial Information Sciences, Volume II-5/W3, 2015 25th International CIPA Symposium 2015, 31 August – 04 September 2015, Taipei, Taiwan This contribution has been peer-reviewed. The double-blind peer-review was conducted on the basis of the full paper. doi:10.5194/isprsannals-II-5-W3-243-2015 246 makes it possible to compute a depth map at a constant angular resolution, through a mere temporary change of coordinates to avoid computing Z as a function of (X,Y). New coordinates, U,V,L may indeed be defined, so that U=D.atan(X/Z) ; V=Y ; L=Z (see Figure 8). The problem is thus turned into computing L=f(U,V). Image survey of a façade Profile view Figure 8: “OrthoCylindric” geometry: optimization of the “cartographic” 3D reconstruction geometry (camera positions are shown as small red circles) 4.2.3 Case of cylindrical towers “Cartographic” geometry is also adapted for non-flat areas. The depth map to be computed by image matching needs to be a cylinder rather than a plane for the towers (TS, TO, TN, TE, TDO and TDN). The definition of the average cylinder requires a few 3D reconstructions around the tower. The cylindrical depth map can be transformed into an unwrapped orthoimage or into a 3D point cloud (see Figure 10 and Figure 11). 4.2.4 Fully automated computation mode A new computation mode has been recently proposed in the MicMac software. This method, based on image geometry reconstruction (see 4.2.1), is designed for non-expert users, since it does not demand any parametric setting; in fact, only a few user interactions are needed. One is required to define the working area by drawing a box in the 3D tie point cloud, computed right after the image orientation (see example of such a point cloud in Figure 6). Then, a depth map is computed in “image” geometry for some images, which view the working area. The master images are automatically defined by the software, and, for each of them, the best set of secondary images is defined using different criteria: efficiency in terms of occlusion management, number of images to be used, incidence angles and space coverage. All the depth maps are then converted into 3D point clouds, and may be merged. To compute the orthoimage, a projection plane needs to be defined, in the same way as for cartographic geometry (see 4.2.1). 4.2.5 Approved overall methodology Many tests were made, on the one hand for façade orthoimages and on the other hand for tower unwrapped images. Two methods were particularly used and tested: the orthocylindric cartographic geometry computational method and the new fully automated computation mode. The fully automated computation mode still being under development, the Chambord project was the opportunity to test and improve it. This method, based on image geometry, reconstructs better the discontinuities than the method based on cartographic geometry, with standard parameters [Penard, 2006] (see Figure 9). Figure 9: 3D reconstruction differences between standard cartographic method and fully automated geometry image method (shaded relief images on TS) This is why this solution was privileged to unwrap the towers. In Figure 10 to Figure 12, reconstruction products for towers, with the new fully automated computation mode, are shown: shaded relief image, unwrapped orthoimages and 3D point cloud. Figure 10: Shaded relief image and unwrapped orthoimage of Tour du Donjon (TO) Figure 11: 3D point cloud of Tour du Donjon (TO) Figure 12: Unwrapped orthoimage of Tour des Princes (TS) Y axis Z axis X a x is ISPRS Annals of the Photogrammetry, Remote Sensing and Spatial Information Sciences, Volume II-5/W3, 2015 25th International CIPA Symposium 2015, 31 August – 04 September 2015, Taipei, Taiwan This contribution has been peer-reviewed. The double-blind peer-review was conducted on the basis of the full paper. doi:10.5194/isprsannals-II-5-W3-243-2015 247 Nevertheless, since this solution was still under development during production, it was difficult to use for the entire castle. Moreover, the different parts of the castle happen to respond differently from each other to image matching. Although the overall aspect of the castle looks very homogeneous at first sight, the color, shape and texture of individual stones may indeed vary a lot due to different exposures to the sun or potential restorations. Since these differences lead to varying qualities of 3D reconstruction results, manual parametric settings are still required in some cases. That is why the new fully automatic mode is not suitable in all cases. The cartographic reconstruction geometry was thus privileged for plane façades, and specifically, the orthocylindric cartographic method, which gives better results than the classic method on the upper parts. For instance, Figure 13 shows that for shaded relief images computed with the same parameters, more reconstruction problems appear in the upper part of the façade with the standard cartographic 3D reconstruction geometry than with the orthocylindric geometry. The Figure 15 shows results of the orthocylindric cartographic method (shaded relief images and orthoimage). Standard 3D reconstruction geometry OrthoCylindric 3D reconstruction geometry Figure 13: 3D reconstruction differences between standard cartographic and orthocylindric geometry (Shaded relief images) Figure 14: 3D reconstruction with 100 mm only and with 100 mm and 200 mm focal length images, on FNO2 upper part. For the middle part of the North-West façade (FNO2), some 200 mm focal length images were taken for the upper part in order to test the contribution of long focal length lenses for quality reconstruction. Figure 15: Façade FSO: shaded relief image in orthocylindric geometry, shaded relief image transformed in euclidian geometry and orthoimage. The Figure 14 shows better reconstruction when the 200 mm images are used in addition to the 100 mm images, particularly on the railing (the extreme upper part) and on the window bars. A small decrease in hidden parts must be noted as well. The orthoimage computed with the 100 mm and 200 mm images, is shown on Figure 16. Figure 16: Orthoimage of FNO2 with 100 mm and 200 mm focal length images ISPRS Annals of the Photogrammetry, Remote Sensing and Spatial Information Sciences, Volume II-5/W3, 2015 25th International CIPA Symposium 2015, 31 August – 04 September 2015, Taipei, Taiwan This contribution has been peer-reviewed. The double-blind peer-review was conducted on the basis of the full paper. doi:10.5194/isprsannals-II-5-W3-243-2015 248 4.3 Assessment 4.3.1 From the producers’ point of view Quality assessment involves many aspects: quality of the output products, as far as colors, textures, shapes, dimensions, and correct absolute positionning are concerned, but also efficiency of the tools. 4.3.1.1 Colors Photogrammetric survey methods are good at rendering realistic and rich colors, due to the capabilities of today’s digital cameras. Beautiful colors in the final products depend on the quality of the image fieldwork survey, and of the radiometric equalization method which may have been used. Quality assessment of the colors is a rather delicate and subjective task. In the Chambord project, successive image processing tools have not damaged the input radiometric dynamic. However, side effects of the automatic radiometric equalization can be observed on some façade orthoimages (see Figure 10), which need to be manually corrected. Besides, differences remain between the various entities, mainly because the image acquisition was carried out entity by entity, at different hours and even on different dates. 4.3.1.2 Textures Shaded relief images (see Figure 14) are known to emphasize potential artifacts in 3D reconstruction [Héno et al., 2012]. Such images were used to assess the overall 3D reconstruction of the walls, but also, at a larger scale, to look at the stone texture. These images showed that the tuffeau stone (which is the main material used in this castle’s construction) is apparently not properly rendered on all the outer walls. A first hypothesis indicates that the stones exposed on the north side of the castle are not well reconstructed, probably because of the biological colonization. Relatively new stones from modern restoration campaigns also do not respond properly to image matching methods. This does not harm the overall orthorectification process, because the phenomenon is quite small in amplitude, and also because 3D reconstruction usually works well on joints around stones. In most cases, when the shaded relief image shows a poor reconstruction at the stone scale, just increasing the regularization factor improves the 3D reconstruction to be used for orthorectification [Pierrot-Deseilligny et al., 2006]. Further studies should be made to find out whether specific attributes could be used to automate the correlation parameter choice. 4.3.1.3 Shapes, dimensions and absolute positionning The comparison of the photogrammetric 3D point clouds with the laser data previously acquired by the PRISME laboratory makes it possible to check for any deformation, which may happen in case of inadequate determination of the camera or an insufficient number of ground control points. The CloudCompare tool [CloudCompare, 2015] was used to compare laser and photogrammetric data. The comparison was first made on FSE (see Figure 5) which is the longest wall, thus the most likely to be distorted by photogrammetric processes. The difference between the two datasets is around 1 cm. No systematic error was observed, except for some strong discontinuities like the windows, which are not well reconstructed on the photogrammetric dataset, probably because of the image survey geometry (camera axes roughly perpendicular to the walls) and the cartographic 3D reconstruction geometry. 4.3.1.4 Efficiency of the tools Image acquisition in the field is relatively fast and efficient; however, some rules need to be strictly respected: keep a fixed focus for a whole set of images, document any change in focus, and take both short and long focal length images. MicMac software is highly promising because on the one hand, it makes it possible to check intermediate results at any stage of the process and, on the other hand, it deals with a great number of cases (flat walls, high walls, cylindrical towers, image acquisition with almost any kind of camera). More tests remain to be made to improve the choice criteria of one or the other computation mode. However, the way MicMac was used for the Chambord project needs to be improved, mainly insofar as computational time is concerned, whatever stage of the process (tie point computation, bundle adjustment, dense image matching). Distributed computation must be considered. 4.3.2 From the users’ point of view The digital model made by the ENSG can be directly used in classical CAD or GIS software. Moreover, the selected digital assets do not require additional workflows to deal with annotation. The produced orthoimages provide a metric support with sharp details of stone features and a relevant radiometric quality. These criteria are currently nearly impossible to meet with any other acquisition method. On the one hand, with 3D scanners (used by PRISME laboratory for other applications), geometric correctness could be better than MicMac processing, but color information would need additional photographic processing. Other photogrammetric software solutions favor ease of use over parametric settings at the expense of metric and radiometric quality. Moreover, as far as we know, none of these can handle cylindric geometry or orthocylindric geometry, which is critical in our case. A current project on lapidary signs already takes advantage of this documentation. The aim of this archaeological study is to cross-reference various data collected during in situ surveys (architectural elements, dating, nature and origin of stones) [Janvier-Badosa et al., 2012] with anthropic marks engraved by stonecutters. These archaeological and historical studies were, until now, mainly carried out without computer tools. Our approach on a free software stack based on GIS plugged into a spatial database, makes it possible to run spatial queries added to systematic and automatic spatial distribution calculations of these lapidary signs (see Figure 17). Finally, this will help provide new information about the chronology of the building process of the château de Chambord in the 16 th century. Figure 17: Example of two kinds of metadata mapped on orthoimages: lapidary signs and stone dating ISPRS Annals of the Photogrammetry, Remote Sensing and Spatial Information Sciences, Volume II-5/W3, 2015 25th International CIPA Symposium 2015, 31 August – 04 September 2015, Taipei, Taiwan This contribution has been peer-reviewed. The double-blind peer-review was conducted on the basis of the full paper. doi:10.5194/isprsannals-II-5-W3-243-2015 249 5. PERSPECTIVES This work, whose data was produced with a MicMac pipeline, is totally based on open format that will ensure the completion of this work by further studies. Moreover, the digital assets provided by MicMac are totally transposable into the future 2D/3D hybrid annotation framework developed in the MONUMENTUM ANR project [Manuel et al., 2014]. As it was already written, several reconstruction methods were used to reconstruct the outer walls of the castle in 3D (fully automated way using the image reconstruction geometry for the cylindrical towers, and cartographic orthocylindric geometry for all the other walls). Since the software was being developed and improved during the production, it was hard to run all the necessary experiments to properly assign one type of computation to one type of architectural structure. Final conclusions about the production methodology should be drawn soon, making easier the continuation of the survey. REFERENCES BRUNETAUD X., STEFANI C., JANVIER-BADOSA S., BECK K., AL- MUKHTAR M., 2012. Comparison between photomodeling and laser scanning to create a 3D model for a digital health record, European Journal of Environmental and Civil Engineering, 16 (sup1) p. 48-63. CLOUDCOMPARE (Version 2.6.1) [GPL software], EDF R&D, Telecom ParisTech, 2015. Retrieved from http://www.cloudcompare.org/. HÉNO R., CHANDELIER L., CLAUZEL L., HANON R., 2011. Complementarity of terrestrial laser scanning and DSM from aerial photography: the example of the cathedral of Amiens, Proceedings of the 23 rd CIPA Symposium, Prague, Czech Republic. HÉNO R., CHANDELIER L.,SCHELSTRAETE D., 2012. Costless platform for high resolution stereoscopic images of a high gothic façade, Proceedings of the ISPRS symposium, Melbourne, Australie. HÉNO R., CHANDELIER L., 2014. 3D Modeling of buildings: Outstanding sites. Wiley editions ; ISBN: 978-1-84821-536-8, 224 p. JANVIER-BADOSA S., BECK K., BRUNETAUD X., AL-MUKHTAR M., 2012. Historical study of Chambord castle: a basis for establishing the health record of the monument, International Journal of Architectural Heritage, 7(3), p. 247-260. LOWE D.G., 2004. Distinctive Image Features from Scale- Invariant Keypoints. International journal of computer vision, 60, 2, p. 91-110. MANUEL A., DE LUCA L., VÉRON P., 2014. A Hybrid Approach for the Semantic Annotation of Spatially Oriented Images. International Journal of Heritage in the Digital Era, III-2, p. 305-320. PÉNARD L., PAPARODITIS N., PIERROT-DESEILLIGNY M.. 2006. Reconstruction 3D automatique de façades de bâtiments en multi-vues. RFIA (Reconnaissance des Formes et Intelligence Artificielle), Tours, France. PIERROT-DESEILLIGNY M., PAPARODITIS N., 2006. A multiresolution and optimization-based image matching approach: An application to surface reconstruction from SPOT5-HRS stereoimagery, ISPRS Workshop on Topographic Mapping from Space (With Special Emphasis on Small Satellites), Ankara, Turkey, February. PIERROT-DESEILLIGNY M., CLÉRY I., 2012. Some possible protocols of acquisition for optimal use of the “APERO” open source software in automatic orientation and calibration, Tutorial for EuroCow, Castelldefels, Spain, 8-10 February. STEFANI C., BRUNETAUD X., JANVIER-BADOSA S., BECK K., DE LUCA L., AL-MUKHTAR M.. 2014. Developing a toolkit for mapping and displaying stone alteration on a web-based documentation platform, Journal of Cultural Heritage 15, p. 1- 9. ISPRS Annals of the Photogrammetry, Remote Sensing and Spatial Information Sciences, Volume II-5/W3, 2015 25th International CIPA Symposium 2015, 31 August – 04 September 2015, Taipei, Taiwan This contribution has been peer-reviewed. The double-blind peer-review was conducted on the basis of the full paper. doi:10.5194/isprsannals-II-5-W3-243-2015 250 
work_dz3c3zrbkbdedf5h6fhdu2hg7a	----	A STUDY OF THE WORK OF GUY LE FEVRE DE LA BODERIE (1541-1598) by MAUREEN ANN CROMIE B . A . , U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , 1958 M . A . , U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , 1966 A THESIS SUMBITTED I N THE REQUIREMENTS DOCTOR OF PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF FOR THE DEGREE OF PHILOSOPHY i n t h e Department o f F r e n c h We a c c e p t t h i s t h e s i s as c o n f o r m i n g t o t h e r e q u i r e d s t a n d a r d THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA A p r i l , 1971 I n p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s i n p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f t h e r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r a n a d v a n c e d d e g r e e a t t h e U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , I a g r e e t h a t t h e L i b r a r y s h a l l m a k e i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e a n d s t u d y . I f u r t h e r a g r e e t h a p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y p u r p o s e s m a y b e g r a n t e d b y t h e H e a d o f my D e p a r t m e n t o r b y h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . I t i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t c o p y i n g o r p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l n o t b e a l l o w e d w i t h o u t my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . D e p a r t m e n t o f French T h e U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a V a n c o u v e r 8, C a n a d a D a t e A p r i l 1971 i i ABSTRACT The aim o f t h i s t h e s i s i s t o p r e s e n t an a n a l y s i s o f t h e work o f a l a t e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e p o e t and l i n g u i s t , Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e . C o n s i d e r e d as a C h r i s t i a n K a b b a l i s t , he i s p l a c e d i n t h e c o n - t e x t o f t h e c o n t i n u i n g F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s y n c r e t i s t t r a d i t i o n . The t h e m a t i c c o n t e n t o f h i s o r i g i n a l works i s s t u d i e d , and t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p o f h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s t o t h o s e w o r k s i s e s t a b l i s h e d . L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f s y m b o l i c i m a g e r y i s shown t o c o n s t i t u t e a f u r t h e r i n d i c a t i o n o f h i s a d h e r e n c e t o t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t t r a d i t i o n . I n c o n c l u s i o n , L a B o d e r i e i s shown t o have s o u g h t i n t h e m u l t i p l i c i t y o f t r a d i t i o n s c i t e d by s y n c r e t i z i n g R e n a i s s a n c e w r i t e r s a p r o o f o f t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h and t h e f o u n d a t i o n s f o r a u n i v e r s a l harmony i n h i s age o f c i v i l and r e l i g i o u s d i s c o r d . Throughout h i s work L a B o d e r i e a p p e a r s as a r e p r e s e n t a t i v e , a l b e i t a h i g h l y s i n g u l a r o n e , o f a P l a t o n i c - H e r m e t i c o r i e n t a t i o n o f t h o u g h t common t o many R e n a i s s a n c e w r i t e r s . D r a w i n g on t h e supposed i i i a n c i e n t wisdom o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a f o r C a t h o l i c a p o l o g e t i c p u r p o s e s o f u n i f i c a t i o n , he f o u n d a l s o i n t h e N e o - P l a t o n i c and K a b b a l i s t t r a d i t i o n s a s t o r e o f i m a g e r y t o w h i c h he a t t r i b u t e d a s y m b o l i c v a l u e . By means o f t h e s e symbols he i n t e r p r e t e d t h e " v e i l e d t r u t h " o f a d i v i n e l y o r d a i n e d u n i v e r s a l harmony. L i k e t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s , L a B o d e r i e r e v e r e d t h e l e g e n d a r y Orpheus as a d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d p o e t - p r i e s t - p r o p h e t whose m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s " were e t h i c a l l y i n f l u e n t i a l . He a t t r i b u t e d t o h i m s e l f , as l e a r n e d and v i r t u o u s p o e t , t h e r o l e o f t h e "new O r p h e u s . " Through h i s own work as w e l l as t h r o u g h h i s e x h o r t a t i o n s t o c o n t e m p o r a r y p o e t s t o a d o p t a new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m , L a B o d e r i e e n d e a v o u r e d t o b r i n g about a m o r a l and s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l i n h i s c o m p a t r i o t s . Thus L a B o d e r i e s t a n d s o u t among t h e w r i t e r s i n t h e P l a t o n i c - H e r m e t i c t r a d i t i o n b o t h f o r h i s c o n s t a n t use o f i t s themes and i m a g e r y and a l s o f o r h i s c o n c e p t i o n o f a new C h r i s t i a n p o e t i c w h i c h he a t t e m p t e d t o i l l u s t r a t e by r e f e r e n c e to t h a t t r a d i t i o n . I n L a B o d e r i e ' s two m a j o r w o r k s a r e t o be f o u n d a u n i q u e s y n c r e t i z a t i o n o f themes and i m a g e r y drawn f o r t h e most p a r t f r o m t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t and K a b b a l i s t t r a d i t i o n s . The E n c y c l i e , a w o r k o f p o s t - T r i d e n t i n e C a t h o l i c a p o l o g e t i c s , u s e s t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a to p r o v e t h a t t h e r e i s one t r u t h o n l y , however v a r i o u s l y i t may have b e e n c o n c e a l e d by t h e " v e i l s " o f i m a g e r y u n d e r w h i c h d i v e r s e r e l i g i o u s l e a d e r s h a v e b o t h c o n c e a l e d i t f r o m t h e p r o f a n e and r e v e a l e d i t t o t h e i n i t i a t e . The G a l l l a d e , a work o f m y s t i c o - n a t i o n a l i s t h i s t o r y , a d o p t s c o n c e p t s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a and G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l ' s i n t e r - p r e t a t i o n s o f e s o t e r i c t r a d i t i o n s t o show t h a t F r a n c e i s t h e home o f i v a l l p o s t - d i l u v e a n k n o w l e d g e and t h a t t h e F r e n c h k i n g i s d i v i n e l y e l e c t e d t o be u n i v e r s a l monarch i n a new and h a r m o n i o u s age o f man's s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l . L a B o d e r i e ' s s h o r t e r p i e c e s , l i k e t h e p r e f a c e s t o h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s , r e i n f o r c e t h e s e e x p r e s s i o n s o f h i s v i s i o n o f a u n i v e r s a l harmony w h i c h i t i s t h e t a s k o f t h e t r u e p o e t t o a p p r e h e n d and t o i n t e r p r e t . A l t h o u g h h i s p e r s o n a l a c h i e v e m e n t as p o e t i s a c k n o w l e d g e d t o have f a l l e n s h o r t o f t h e O r p h i c aims he p r o p o u n d e d , i t i s p r o p o s e d t h a t Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e m e r i t s c o n s i d e r a t i o n . H i s a t t e m p t , as a h u m a n i s t s c h o l a r and p o e t , t o f i n d i n e s o t e r i c t r a d i t i o n s o f s u p p o s e d a n t i q u i t y a b a s i s f o r a s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l commensurate w i t h t h e g l o r y o f t h e r e s t i t u t i o n o f a r t s and l e t t e r s marks h i m as t y p i c a l o f an i m p o r t a n t c u r r e n t o f R e n a i s s a n c e t h o u g h t . H i s u n i q u e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f m u l t i p l e f a c e t s o f e s o t e r i c t r a d i t i o n s d i s t i n g u i s h e s h i m as an i n d i v i d u a l w r i t e r . V TABLE OF CONTENTS I . INTRODUCTION 1 I I . THE MAN AND THE INTELLECTUAL CLIMATE OF HIS WORK 9 A . HIS L I F E 9 B . HIS CONCEPT OF HIS HISTORICAL ROLE 13 C . HIS SOURCES 27 I I I . . THE THEMATIC CONTENT OF THE WORK: ORIGINAL WORKS 63 A . L ' E N C Y C L I E 66 B . LA GALLIAPE 104 C . HYMNES ECCLESIASTIQUES 139 D . DIVERSES MESLANGES POETIQUES 144 I V . THE THEMATIC CONTENT OF THE WORK: TRANSLATIONS 162 A . L E TRAICTE DU NOUVEAU COMETE 162 B . LA CONFUSION DE LA SECTE DE MUHAMED 168 v i C . L'HARMONIE DU MONDE 169 D . DE LA RELIGION CHRESTIENNE; LA HARAHGUE DE LA DIGNITE D E L ' H O M M E 178 E . DISCOURS DE L'HONNESTE AMOUR 180 F . LES TROIS LIVRES DE LA V I E 181 G . DE LA NATURE DES DIEUX 184 H . NOVUM TESTAMENTUM 186 V . THE SYMBOLIC IMAGERY OF THE WORK 194 V I . CONCLUSION 228 BIBLIOGRAPHY 235 APPENDIX 244 ACKNOWLEDGEMENT The w r i t e r w i s h e s t o e x p r e s s h e r warmest t h a n k s t o D r . A l i s t a i r R. M a c K a y , o f t h e U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , f o r h i s p e r c e p t i v e c r i t i c i s m and p a t i e n t encouragement n o t o n l y i n t h e w r i t i n g o f t h i s t h e s i s b u t a l s o o v e r t h e y e a r s o f h e r g r a d u a t e s t u d y . 1 CHAPTER I INTRODUCTION The poetry produced i n France during the middle years of the sixteenth century wars of r e l i g i o n shows a s i g n i f i c a n t change i n o r i e n t a t i o n of the poet's purpose from that i l l u s t r a t e d by the poets of the Pldiade and t h e i r epigones. A concern for r e l i g i o u s and s p i r i t u a l matters i s seen to bring about a modification from " s c i e n t i f i c " or " p h i l o s o p h i c a l " subjects treated i n the works of such e a r l i e r poets as P e l e t i e r du Mans, Sceve, Belleau or even Ronsard, to the apologetics of a Du Bartas. Furthermore, a search for "inwardness" i n r e l i g i o u s matters finds expression i n the new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m of such poets as Sponde or La Ceppede. Although the former " s c i e n t i f i c " apologetic poetry has received less attention than the l y r i c a l poetry of the l a t t e r s o - c a l l e d "baroque" poets, more innovative i n form, many scholars since Boase's pioneer work on Sponde have attempted to reassess i n a more p o s i t i v e l i g h t post- Pleiade poetry i n general. 2 I t i s t h e f i r s t p u r p o s e o f the p r e s e n t work t o s i t u a t e t h e p o e t i c p r o d u c t i o n o f a l i t t l e - k n o w n C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n p o e t and a p o l o g i s t , Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ( 1 5 4 1 - 1 5 9 8 ) , i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h e m o d i f i c a t i o n o f t h e p o e t ' s r o l e d u r i n g t h e l a s t t h i r d o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e . L a B o d e r i e ' s work i s d e d i c a t e d t h r o u g h o u t t o t h e c a u s e o f t h e C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n . A t t h e t i m e o f t h e C o u n c i l o f T r e n t i n 1566 L a B o d e r i e was a p a r t i c i p a n t , as t h e p r e - e m i n e n t o r i e n t a l i s t o f h i s d a y , i n t h e P o l y g l o t B i b l e o f A n t w e r p c o m m i s s i o n e d by P h i l i p I I o f S p a i n . Subsequent -to p u b l i c a t i o n i n 1571 o f h i s f i r s t p o e t i c work d e s i g n e d t o p e r s u a d e P r o t e s t a n t s and f r e e - t h i n k e r s t o t u r n t o t h e one t r u e C h u r c h , he was s e c r e t a r y and i n t e r p r e t e r t o t h e Due d ' A l e n c o n , y o u n g e r b r o t h e r o f C h a r l e s IX and Henry I I I . I n t h i s r o y a l h o u s e h o l d L a B o d e r i e t o o k i t upon h i m s e l f t o p r e a c h w i t h e v e r - i n c r e a s i n g f e r v o u r t h e somewhat u n o r t h o d o x message o f G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l t o t h e e f f e c t t h a t t h e F r e n c h k i n g h a d been d i v i n e l y c h o s e n n o t o n l y as u n i v e r s a l monarch b u t a l s o as l e a d e r o f t h e u n i v e r s a l C a t h o l i c C h u r c h . Thus L a B o d e r i e ' s a p o l o g e t i c p u r p o s e may be s e e n as c l o s e l y r e l a t e d t o t h e s p i r i t o f t h e " c o n f r ^ r i e s " o f C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n " p o l i t i q u e s " s u c h as t h e " C h e v a l i e r s de 1 ' E s p r i t S a i n t " a s s o c i a t e d w i t h Henry I I I . L a B o d e r i e ' s a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h B a i f ' s Academy o f P o e t r y and M u s i c , e s t a b l i s h e d i n 1570, c a n o n l y have enhanced h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h t h e C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n group o f Henry I l l ' s P a l a c e Academy. H i s i m i t a t i o n s o f " e c c l e s i a s t i c a l hymns" and o f t h e P s a l m s , d e s i g n e d t o c o u n t e r a c t t h e e f f e c t s o f P r o t e s t a n t t r a n s l a t i o n s o f t h e P s a l m s , a r e w i t n e s s n o t o n l y t o h i s t i e s w i t h t h e 3 B a i f Academy b u t a l s o t o t h e b a s i c p u r p o s e o f h i s w o r k t o e f f e c t m o r a l and s p i r i t u a l r e f o r m i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h e C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n . I n s h o r t , L a B o d e r i e may be c o n s i d e r e d as a C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n w r i t e r b o t h b e c a u s e o f h i s s t a t e d p u r p o s e i n w r i t i n g and b e c a u s e o f t h e m i l i e u f o r w h i c h he w r o t e . A j u s t e v a l u a t i o n o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p u r p o s e r e q u i r e s , h o w e v e r , a b r o a d e r v i e w o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e r e l i g i o u s s p i r i t . L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f C a t h o l i c d o c t r i n e i s b a s e d on t h e s y n c r e t i z i n g t r a d i t i o n o f t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s , f r o m w h i c h he chose t h e f i g u r e o f Orpheus t h e p o e t - p r i e s t - p r o p h e t t o r e p r e s e n t h i s p e r s o n a l r o l e as s p i r i t u a l l y i n f l u e n t i a l p o e t . S y n c r e t i s t i c p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e a n c i e n t wisdom f o u n d i n t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , w h i c h was s u p p o s e d t o embody C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e , i s c o l o u r e d i n L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k s l a r g e l y by G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l ' s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f i t s K a b b a l i s t e l e m e n t and by P o s t e l ' s p e r s o n a l i l l u m i n i s m . Thus t h e m a i n body o f the p r e s e n t work i s an a t t e m p t t o show i n L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c p r o d u c t i o n h i s a d o p t i o n o f F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t , K a b b a l i s t and P o s t e l l i a n themes and i m a g e r y . L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f a s y n c r e t i s t i c C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s b a s e d on t h e P l a t o n i c - H e r m e t i c t r a d i t i o n , a l t h o u g h s i n g u l a r i n i t s d e t a i l s , i s f a r f r o m u n i q u e i n i t s g e n e r a l s p i r i t . Many F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e w r i t e r s , f r o m L e f e v r e d ' E t a p l e s t o P o n t u s de T y a r d and i n c l u d i n g R a b e l a i s , a s s o c i a t e d P l a t o w i t h t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i o r a n c i e n t t h e o l o g i a n s who were supposed t o have p a r t i c i p a t e d i n a p a r t i a l p r e - C h r i s t i a n r e v e l a t i o n t r a n s m i t t e d by Moses t o t h e E g y p t i a n p r i e s t s . 4 Thus w i t h t h e p i a p h i l o s o p h i a o f P l a t o and H e l l e n i s t i c N e o - P l a t o n i s m were a s s o c i a t e d t h e l o o s e l y - t e r m e d H e r m e t i s m n o t o n l y o f t h e c o r p u s h e r m e t i c u m b u t a l s o o f t h e i n i t i a t o r y m y s t e r y c u l t s evoked by the name o f O r p h e u s , t h e o c c u l t s c i e n c e s o f a s t r o l o g y and alchemy a t t r i b u t e d t o Z o r o a s t e r and t o Hermes T r i s m e g i s t u s , and the o c c u l t i s m o f t h e m y t h o l o g i z i n g J e w i s h K a b b a l a h . The D r u i d s were o f t e n c i t e d as o c c i d e n t a l c o u n t e r p a r t s o f t h e o r i e n t a l H e r m e t i c p r i s c i t h e o l o g i . These p r i s c i t h e o l o g i , t r e a t e d f i r s t i n F r a n c e by S y m p h o r i e n C h a m p i e r , had been f i r s t r e v e r e d as p r e - C h r i s t i a n r e c i p i e n t s o f a d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n by F i c i n o . S e v e r a l l i s t s o f p r i s c i t h e o l o g i a p p e a r i n g i n h i s t r e a t i s e on P l a t o n i c t h e o l o g y gave some a u t h o r i t y f o r l a t e r w r i t e r s ' use o f t h e i r w o r k s i n a C h r i s t i a n c o n t e x t , w h e t h e r E v a n g e l i s t , P r o t e s t a n t o r C a t h o l i c . B u t t h e a u t h o r i t y o f S t . A u g u s t i n e h i m s e l f and o f e a r l y C h u r c h F a t h e r s , n o t a b l y C l e m e n t o f A l e x a n d r i a and E u s e b i u s , was p r o b a b l y e q u a l l y i m p o r t a n t f o r a p o s t - T r i d e n t i n e C a t h o l i c s u c h as L a B o d e r i e . P i c o d e l l a M i r a n d o l a ' s f o c u s s i n g o f i n t e r e s t i n t h e J e w i s h K a b b a l a h was j u s t i f i e d by j u s t s u c h p a t r i s t i c a u t h o r i t i e s . F u r t h e r m o r e t h e r e l e v a n c e o f t h e K a b b a l a h t o C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s was made e x p l i c i t by f i f t e e n t h and s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y I t a l i a n churchmen s u c h as G i l l e s o f V i t e r b o and F r a n c i s c o G i o r g i o . L a B o d e r i e ' s e x t e n d e d t r a n s l a t i o n s o f F i c i n o , P i c o and G i o r g i o , as w e l l as h i s i m i t a t i o n s o f t h e P s a l m s and o f " h y m n s " o f t h e e a r l y C h u r c h F a t h e r s , H e r m e t i c t h e o l o g i and I t a l i a n C h r i s t i a n h u m a n i s t s a r e a l l w i t n e s s t o h i s dependence on t h e f o r e g o i n g t r a d i t i o n . I t i s i n d e e d t h a t s y n c r e t i s t i c t r a d i t i o n b a s e d on t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i 5 w h i c h i n f o r m s most o f h i s work as C a t h o l i c a p o l o g i s t and C h r i s t i a n p o e t . R e l a t e d t o t h a t t r a d i t i o n , f u r t h e r m o r e , i s t h e m i l l e n a r i a n i l l u m i n i s m L a B o d e r i e a d o p t e d f r o m t h e v i s i o n a r y G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l . F o r L a B o d e r i e , who was p r i m a r i l y a l i n g u i s t and p h i l o l o g i s t , t h e g r e a t e s t o r i e n t a l i s t o f h i s day a f t e r P o s t e l and P o s t e l ' s c h o s e n s u b s t i t u t e i n work on t h e 1571 P o l y g l o t B i b l e o f A n t w e r p , t h e i n f l u e n c e o f P o s t e l was a l l - p e r v a s i v e . T h a t i n f l u e n c e i s e v i d e n t i n L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k i n h i s use o f K a b b a l i s t themes and images b a s e d on P o s t e l l i a n i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s o f t h e Z o h a r , and i n h i s a d o p t i o n o f P o s t e l ' s m i l l e n a r i a n pronouncements f o r h i s own h i s t o r i c o - p r o p h e t i c p r e s e n t a t i o n o f F r a n c e ' s p r e - e m i n e n t r o l e i n u n i v e r s a l h i s t o r y . As a f o l l o w e r o f P o s t e l , L a B o d e r i e was a b l e t o l i n k h i s C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n p r o p a g a n d i s t p u r p o s e o f s u p p o r t o f t h e one u n i v e r s a l C a t h o l i c C h u r c h w i t h an a l l i e d r e l i g i o - n a t i o n a l i s t i c p u r p o s e o f s u p p o r t o f t h e F r e n c h k i n g as d i v i n e l y - a p p o i n t e d u n i v e r s a l m o n a r c h . Thus P o s t e l e n c o u r a g e d i n L a B o d e r i e a l a t e - m e d i e v a l m y s t i c a l and e v e n a C r u s a d i n g s p i r i t n o t u n f o r e i g n t o t h e age o f Henry I I I . The a s s o c i a t i o n o f t h i s s p i r i t w i t h t h e l i b e r a l humanism o f e a r l y R e n a i s s a n c e f i g u r e s s u c h as F i c i n o and P i c o l e n d s t o L a B o d e r i e ' s work a s i n g u l a r f l a v o u r . L a B o d e r i e ' s o f t e n a n a c h r o n i s t i c themes and p o e t i c t e c h n i q u e a r e i n c o n t r a s t a l s o w i t h h i s r e p e a t e d p l e a s f o r a new r o l e f o r t h e p o e t . I t i s a f u r t h e r p u r p o s e o f t h e p r e s e n t work t o s t u d y L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f s y m b o l i c i m a g e r y and t o f i x h i s c o n t r i b u t i o n t o t h e new c o n c e p t 6 o f t h e p o e t ' s r o l e w h i c h e v o l v e d d u r i n g t h e l a s t t h i r d o f the s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e . I n c h o o s i n g t o p r e s e n t h i m s e l f as t h e new O r p h e u s , L a B o d e r i e was n o t o n l y f a i t h f u l t o t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t e l e v a t i o n o f Orpheus t o t h e r o l e o f p r i n c i p a l m y t h o l o g i c a l f i g u r e o f i t s " p o e t i c t h e o l o g y " b u t a l s o e x p l i c i t i n h i s d e s i r e t o a s s i g n to t h e p o e t t h e r o l e o f d i v i n e l y - i n s p i r e d i n i t i a t e and e t h i c a l l y i n f l u e n t i a l s i n g e r . The a s s o c i a t i o n o f Orpheus w i t h D a v i d had l o n g b e e n e s t a b l i s h e d . B o t h were c o n s i d e r e d e x e m p l a r y p o e t - s i n g e r s as w e l l as p r o p h e t - p r i e s t s . As s u c h t h e y had used m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s " t o t r a n s m i t a d i v i n e message and so t o t r a n s f o r m a wayward p e o p l e . To L a B o d e r i e , a s s o c i a t e o f t h e B a i f Academy o f P o e t r y and M u s i c where s u c h e t h i c a l l y - i n f l u e n t i a l m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s " were s t u d i e d and where i m i t a t i o n s o f t h e P s a l m s were u n d e r t a k e n , h i s i d e n t i f i c a t i o n w i t h Orpheus seemed f u l l y j u s t i f i e d . L a B o d e r i e e n t r e a t s h i s c o n t e m p o r a r y p o e t s t o abandon " E p i c u r e a n " m a t e r i a l i s m and h e d o n i s m and t h e v a n i t i e s o f Venus and h e r b l i n d a r c h e r i n f a v o u r o f a l e a r n e d and v i r t u o u s s p i r i t u a l i l l u m i n a t i o n i n d e v o t i o n t o t h e one t r u e G o d . Thus was Orpheus s u p p o s e d , a c c o r d i n g t o many R e n a i s s a n c e w r i t e r s , t o have r e j e c t e d Greek p o l y t h e i s m i n f a v o u r o f a m o n o t h e i s t i c and even T r i n i t a r i a n i n s p i r a t i o n . F u r t h e r m o r e , t h e d o c t r i n e o f " v e i l e d t r u t h " j u s t i f i e s L a B o d e r i e ' s O r p h i c a n a l o g y . R e l a t e d t o H e r m e t i c c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s between t h e m i c r o c o s m and t h e macrocosm, and c e n t r a l t o s y n c r e t i z i n g F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s ' s t u d y o f t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i and t o t h e i r 7 c o n c e p t o f t h e image as embodiment o f t h e e s s e n c e , t h a t d o c t r i n e c l a r i f i e s L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t o f t h e p o e t as l e a r n e d i n i t i a t e whose i n s i g h t and i n s p i r a t i o n q u a l i f y h i m t o s e e k o u t and t o d i s c l o s e an e t e r n a l e x t r a - p e r s o n a l t r u t h . Thus even b e f o r e Du B a r t a s , L a B o d e r i e a t t e m p t e d t o f o u n d a new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m , d i s t i n c t i n i t s m o r a l i z i n g p u r p o s e f r o m t h e i n t e n s e l y p e r s o n a l m y s t i c a l p o e t r y o f t h e l a t e - s i x t e e n t h and e a r l y - s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r i e s y e t r e l a t e d t o i t s s p i r i t u a l i t y . I n summary, t h e p r e s e n t work a t t e m p t s t o show t h e r e l e v a n c e o f t h e work o f Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e t o t h e s t u d y o f F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e l i t e r a t u r e . I n t h e f i r s t p l a c e , s i n c e h i s a d o p t i o n o f t h e P l a t o n i c - H e r m e t i c t r a d i t i o n was t y p i c a l o f many w r i t e r s o f the R e n a i s s a n c e , h i s work p r o v i d e s an i n s i g h t i n t o P l a t o n i c - K a b b a l i s t i c c u r r e n t s o f t h o u g h t i n f l u e n t i a l i n t h e l a s t h a l f o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e . I n t h e s e c o n d p l a c e , h i s use o f s y m b o l i c i m a g e r y d e r i v e d f r o m t h a t t r a d i t i o n and a d a p t e d t o a new c o n c e p t o f C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m c o n s t i t u t e s a s i g n i f i c a n t c o n t r i b u t i o n t o t h e e v o l u t i o n o f F r e n c h p o e t r y . A NOTE ON THE TEXTS Q u o t a t i o n s f r o m L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k s r e t a i n t h e s p e l l i n g and p u n c t u a t i o n o f the o r i g i n a l s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y e d i t i o n s . M i s p r i n t s a r e c o r r e c t e d o n l y where the t r u e r e a d i n g i s i n no p o s s i b l e d o u b t . 8 C o n s o n a n t a l ' i ' and ' u ' have t h r o u g h o u t b e e n r e n d e r e d as ' j ' and ' v ' r e s p e c t i v e l y , and a l l ampersands and a b b r e v i a t i o n s r e s o l v e d . 9 CHAPTER I I THE MAN AND THE INTELLECTUAL CLIMATE OF HIS WORK There i s no a u t h o r i t a t i v e b i o g r a p h y o f Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e . I n h i s own c e n t u r y L a C r o i x du M a i n e and Du V e r d i e r r e p o r t e d l i t t l e o f h i s l i f e and e v e n some o f t h e i r f a c t s a r e i n a c c u r a t e . " ' " L i t e r a r y h i s t o r i a n s f r o m the s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y t o t h e p r e s e n t day have b a s e d t h e i r r e c o n s t r u c t i o n s o f h i s l i f e and o f h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p s on r e f e r e n c e s t o h i m s e l f i n h i s own w o r k s and 2 on d e d i c a t i o n s o f some o f t h o s e w o r k s . The f o l l o w i n g b i o g r a p h i c a l o u t l i n e i s b a s e d l a r g e l y on f a c t s t o be f o u n d i n t h e w o r k o f M . F r a n c o i s S e c r e t , who has r e c o n s t r u c t e d L a B o d e r i e ' s l i f e as f a r 3 as i t i s p o s s i b l e to do s o . Our p u r p o s e f o r i n c l u d i n g a b i o g r a p h y i n the p r e s e n t s t u d y i s o u t o f a d e s i r e f o r c o m p l e t e n e s s . I t i s presumed t h a t the p o e t was b o r n on A u g u s t 9 , 1541 a t 4 t h e manor o f L a B o d e r i e n e a r F a l a i s e i n Normandy. He was t h e e l d e s t o f e i g h t c h i l d r e n o f J a c q u e s Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e , o f whom two o t h e r c h i l d r e n g a i n e d fame, A n t o i n e as ambassador and N i c o l a s as 10 c o l l a b o r a t o r w i t h Guy on t h e 1572 P o l y g l o t B i b l e o f A n t w e r p . A f t e r e a r l y s t u d i e s a t C a e n , ^ i n c a . 1562 Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e went t o P a r i s where he was a s t u d e n t o f Hebrew a t the T r i l i n g u a l C o l l e g e . ^ By 1568 he had d i s t i n g u i s h e d h i m s e l f s u f f i c i e n t l y as a l i n g u i s t t o be c h o s e n by G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l , the g r e a t e s t o r i e n t a l i s t o f t h e d a y , t o be h i s r e p l a c e m e n t a t A n t w e r p g i n w o r k on t h e P o l y g l o t B i b l e c o m m i s s i o n e d by P h i l i p I I o f S p a i n . L a B o d e r i e , accompanied by h i s b r o t h e r N i c o l a s , t h e r e c o m p l e t e d h i s S y r o - C h a l d a e i c d i c t i o n a r y as w e l l as t h e t r a n s c r i p t i o n i n t o Hebrew and the t r a n s l a t i o n i n t o L a t i n and Greek o f the S y r i a c New T e s t a m e n t . T h i s i m p o r t a n t p i e c e o f c r i t i c a l e d i t i n g w h i c h he a c c o m p l i s h e d i n e i g h t e e n months o f a r d u o u s work l e f t h i m p h y s i c a l l y e x h a u s t e d t o t h e p o i n t o f a l m o s t m o r t a l i l l n e s s . 1 ^ He was t o r e c e i v e no m o n e t a r y recompense f o r t h i s w o r k . 1 1 He d i d w i n f o r h i s t r a n s l a t i o n , h o w e v e r , t h e p r a i s e o f some o f h i s most e m i n e n t c o n t e m p o r a r i e s i n t h e h u m a n i s t 12 R e p u b l i c o f L e t t e r s . L a B o d e r i e ' s f i r s t p o e t i c w o r k , L ' E n c y c l i e des s e c r e t s de l ' 6 t e r n i t 6 , was p u b l i s h e d i n 1571 a t A n t w e r p b y C h r i s t o p h e r P l a n t i n , 13 p u b l i s h e r o f t h e P o l y g l o t B i b l e . I t i s . a n a t t e m p t a t " s c i e n t i f i c " C a t h o l i c a p o l o g e t i c s . 14 E a r l y i n 1572 L a B o d e r i e was once a g a i n i n P a r i s . The t i t l e pages o f h i s l a t e r w o r k s i n d i c a t e t h a t he was t h e r e g i v e n a p l a c e i n t h e r o y a l h o u s e h o l d as s e c r e t a r y and i n t e r p r e t e r o f f o r e i g n l a n g u a g e s f o r t h e k i n g ' s b r o t h e r , t h e Due d ' A l e n c o n t o whom he had d e d i c a t e d h i s E n c y c l i e . 11 1572, the y e a r o f L a B o d e r i e ' s r e t u r n t o P a r i s , was t h e y e a r o f t h e g r e a t comet whose a p p e a r a n c e i s s a i d t o have s t i r r e d more s p e c u l a t i o n t h a n C o p e r n i c u s ' n e w l y - p u b l i s h e d t h e o r i e s . " ^ F o r L a B o d e r i e , as f o r h i s s p i r i t u a l m a s t e r G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l , t h e c o m e t ' s a p p e a r a n c e and s t a t i o n a r y p o s i t i o n o v e r P a r i s was c o s m i c c o n f i r m a t i o n o f a p o c a l y p t i c p r o p h e c i e s . L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e s p e c u l a t i o n s on t h e comet by Mugnoz, a S p a n i s h H e b r a i c i s t and m a t h e m a t i c i a n , was p u b l i s h e d i n 1574, accompanied by L a B o d e r i e ' s own p e r s u a s i v e " C a n t i q u e s u r l a n o u v e l l e e s t o i l l e ou a p p a r e n c e l u m i n e u s e q u i s ' e s t m o n s t r e e au c i e l d e p u i s l ' o n z e ou douzieme de november 1572 j u s q u e s a p r e s e n t 20 de J a n v i e r 1574. L e q u e l c a n t i q u e f u t d e s l o r s l e u e t p r e s e n t s a t r e s h a u t e t t r e s p u i s s a n t P r i n c e M o n s e i g n e u r l e Due d ' A l e n c o n , f i l s e t f r e r e du R o y , au c h a s t e a u du L o u v r e a P a r i s . 1574 saw t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f a s e c o n d t r a n s l a t i o n , e v e n more p o l e m i c a l i n s p i r i t t h a n t h a t on t h e c o m e t , t h e C o n f u s i o n de l a s e c t e de Muhamed by J u a n A n d r e s , a C a t h o l i c p r i e s t c o n v e r t e d f r o m Mohammedanism. No r e c o r d r e m a i n s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s a c t i v i t i e s d u r i n g t h e y e a r s 1574 t o 1578. M o n s i e u r S e c r e t a t t r i b u t e s t h i s s i l e n c e t o r a v a g e s o f t h e wars o f r e l i g i o n , q u o t i n g a l a t e r b i o g r a p h e r o f t h e L a B o d e r i e f a m i l y who r e c o u n t s t h e p i l l a g e o f t h e Abbey o f S a i n t - J e a n - d e - F a l a i s e and t h e r e s u l t i n g l o s s o f many o f L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k s . _ 18 xn m a n u s c r i p t . By 1578 L a B o d e r i e was w e l l e s t a b l i s h e d i n t h e r o y a l h o u s e h o l d , " S e c r e t a i r e de M o n s e i g n e u r , e t s o n I n t e r p r e t e aux l a n g u e s 12 p e r e g r i n e s " ( G a l l i a d e , t i t l e p a g e ) . I t has n o t y e t been shown d e f i n i t i v e l y what h i s p e r s o n a l r o l e may h a v e b e e n i n t h e c i r c l e o f 19 t h e Due d ' A l e n c o n . F r a n c e s Y a t e s has advanced p r o p o s a l s , h o w e v e r , as t o t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p s he formed among t h e a r t i s t s and p o e t s o f t h e 20 r o y a l h o u s e h o l d and the B a i f Academy o f P o e t r y and M u s i c . L a B o d e r i e ' s p u b l i c a t i o n s o f 1578 a r e h i s most i m p o r t a n t , n o t o n l y f o r t h e i r q u a n t i t y b u t a l s o f o r t h e i r i n d i c a t i o n o f themes t o w h i c h he r e t u r n e d c o n s t a n t l y . H i s a f f i l i a t i o n w i t h the f i f t e e n t h c e n t u r y F l o r e n t i n e 21 N e o - P l a t o n i s t s i s s e e n i n s e v e r a l t r a n s l a t i o n s : F i c i n o ' s De amore, and F i c i n o ' s De C h r i s t i a n a r e l i g i o n e p u b l i s h e d w i t h P i c o ' s O r a t i o de 22 d i g n i t a t i s h o m i n i s . The t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e K a b b a l i s t and N e o - 23 P l a t o n i s t F r a n c e s c o G i o r g i o ' s H a r m o n i a mundi was c e n t r a l t o L a B o d e r i e ' s e x p r e s s i o n o f h i s p o e t i c t h e o r i e s . The Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , w h i c h c o n t a i n n o t o n l y t r a n s l a t i o n s o f C h u r c h F a t h e r s , o f P s a l m s and o f w o r k s f r o m v a r i o u s a n c i e n t r e l i g i o u s t r a d i t i o n s b u t a l s o o r i g i n a l poems, i n d i c a t e t h e d i v e r s i t y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s s o u r c e s as w e l l as h i s d e s i r e t o c o u n t e r - b a l a n c e the e f f e c t s o f P r o t e s t a n t t r a n s l a t i o n s o f t h e P s a l m s . F i n a l l y , L a G a l l i a d e , ou De l a r e v o l u t i o n 25 des a r t s e t s c i e n c e s shows L a B o d e r i e ' s u n i q u e c o n s o l i d a t i o n o f many c u r r e n t s o f p h i l o s o p h y , myth and r e l i g i o n i n t o a m y s t i c o - n a t i o n a l i s t u n i v e r s a l h i s t o r y and p r o p h e t i c v i s i o n . L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n s p u b l i s h e d i n 1581 r e i n f o r c e themes a l r e a d y f o u n d i n e a r l i e r w o r k s . T r a n s l a t i o n o f C i c e r o ' s De deorum 26 n a t u r a was u n d e r t a k e n a t the r e q u e s t o f Henry I I I as p a r t o f h i s 13 p r o g r a m o f r e l i g i o u s r e s t o r a t i o n . The t r a n s l a t i o n o f F i c i n o ' s 28 De v i t a t r i p l i c i r e c a l l s L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n s t a n t theme o f m a n ' s h a r m o n i o u s a t t u n e m e n t t o h i s own n a t u r e , t o c r e a t i o n and t o G o d . S i x o r i g i n a l s o n n e t s appended t o t h e t r a n s l a t i o n d e v e l o p t h e theme w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o t h e p o e t ' s own p u r p o s e i n w r i t i n g . I n 1582 t h e r e a p p e a r e d t h e c o l l e c t i o n o f D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s p o e ' t i q u e s , i n c l u d i n g o r i g i n a l w o r k s and t r a n s l a t i o n s o r i m i t a t i o n s 29 f r o m a n c i e n t r e l i g i o u s t r a d i t i o n s . I n a l l , t h e s e wo'rks w h i c h i n c l u d e L a B o d e r i e ' s e a r l i e s t r e m a i n i n g c o m p o s i t i o n s show h i m as a s y n c r e t i z i n g C a t h o l i c a p o l o g i s t . The 1584 e d i t i o n o f L a B o d e r i e ' s e a r l i e r t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e 30 New Testament i s d e d i c a t e d t o Henry I I I . The d e d i c a t i o n , t h e l a s t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p u b l i c a t i o n s , shows h i m f i r e d w i t h i n c r e a s e d z e a l t o p e r s u a d e t h e k i n g t o a c t i n a c c o r d a n c e w i t h t h e m i l l e n a r i a n p r o p h e c i e s w h i c h had shaped much o f t h e p o e t ' s w o r k . L i t e r a r y h i s t o r i a n s s i n c e B a i l l e t have f i x e d Guy Le F e v r e de 31 L a B o d e r i e ' s d e a t h i n 1598. LA BODERIE'S CONCEPT OF HIS HISTORICAL ROLE The f a c t s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s l i f e a r e i n d e e d f e w . H i s r e f e r e n c e s t o h i s c o n c e p t o f h i s h i s t o r i c a l r o l e r e v e a l h i m however as a h u m a n i s t and p o e t , t h e o r i e n t a t i o n o f whose w r i t i n g s i s t y p i c a l 14 o f t h a t o f many o t h e r s o f h i s t i m e . L a B o d e r i e s t u d i e d and w r o t e f r o m c a . 1555 t o 1584. I t was a p e r i o d marked by r e l i g i o - p o l i t i c a l s t r u g g l e s between P r o t e s t a n t and C a t h o l i c s e c t s and l a t e r between t h e C a t h o l i c L i g u e u r s and t h e P o l i t i q u e s p a r t i s a n s o f Henry I I I . T h i s p e r i o d o f r e l i g i o u s f a n a t i c i s m was a l s o a t i m e o f r e l i g i o u s d o u b t o c c a s i o n e d i n p a r t by t h e g r o w i n g 32 i n f l u e n c e s o f r a t i o n a l i s t t h o u g h t . Many t u r n e d t o t h e o c c u l t s c i e n c e s whose m a g i c i a n s and m e d i c i n e men f r e q u e n t e d t h e c o u r t o f C a t h e r i n e 33 de M e d i c i . Even though he was a s p i r i t u a l d i s c i p l e o f t h e v i s i o n a r y and 34 p r o c l a i m e d h e r e t i c G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l , L a B o d e r i e a f f i r m e d a r d e n t l y and s i n c e r e l y h i s a d h e r e n c e t o t h e C a t h o l i c c a u s e w h i c h he d e f e n d e d by r e f e r e n c e t o a l l o t h e r known a n c i e n t r e l i g i o n s . He may be s e e n as a u n i q u e a p o l o g i s t and w o u l d - b e p r o p h e t p e c u l i a r t o t h i s t i m e o f i • • * , 3 5 r e l i g i o u s f e r m e n t . L a B o d e r i e saw h i s m i s s i o n as e s s e n t i a l l y r e v e l a t o r y ; as t h e l e a r n e d and v i r t u o u s p o e t - p r o p h e t he was l i t e r a l l y t o remove t h e v e i l s w h i c h f r o m t h e t i m e o f Adam h a d g u a r d e d t h e " s e c r e t s o f e t e r n i t y " from t h e u n c o m p r e h e n d i n g gaze o f i m p e r f e c t man. The e p i g r a p h t o L a G a l l i a d e s t a t e s most s u c c i n c t l y h i s c o n c e p t o f h i s r o l e as v i s i o n a r y : C ' e s t l a g l o i r e de D i e u l a p a r o l e c a c h e r , C ' e s t l a g l o i r e des R o i s l a p a r o l e c h e r c h e r . The f i r s t q u e s t i o n w h i c h a r i s e s w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o t h i s v e r s e f r o m t h e Book o f P r o v e r b s X X V , 2 i s : who a r e t h e k i n g s who may w i n 15 g l o r y i n s e a r c h i n g o u t t h e t r u t h ? We f i n d i n P o s t e l ' s w r i t i n g s t h a t a " k i n g " i s a v i r t u o u s man who has l e a r n e d t o overcome h i s p h y s i c a l n a t u r e ; he i s " d e s o i 36 v i c t o r i e u x . " F o r L a B o d e r i e t h e t r u e p o e t i s n o t o n l y t h e " k i n g " a c c o r d i n g t o P o s t e l ' s d e f i n i t i o n , b u t a l s o the l e a r n e d i n i t i a t e i n t o t h e m y s t e r i e s . B o t h " d o c t e e t v e r t u e u x , " t h e t r u e p o e t has r e f u s e d t r a n s i e n t and e s s e n t i a l l y i n c o n s e q u e n t i a l e a r t h l y r e w a r d s i n f a v o u r o f d e v o t i o n t o s t u d y i n t h e s e r v i c e o f e t e r n a l t r u t h . The s e c o n d q u e s t i o n s u g g e s t e d by t h e e p i g r a p h f r o m t h e Book o f P r o v e r b s i s : f o r what r e a s o n d i d L a B o d e r i e b e l i e v e h i m s e l f c a l l e d t o r e v e a l t h e t r u t h he had s o u g h t o u t ? As S e c r e t has p o i n t e d o u t , i n P o s t e l ' s m i l l e n a r i a n v i s i o n t h e end o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y c a l l e d f o r r e v e l a t i o n o f t h e 37 m y s t e r i e s t o a l l men i n p r e p a r a t i o n f o r t h e new a g e . I n t h e p a s s a g e r e f e r r e d t o above he w r o t e o f " n o s t r e temps de l a R e s t i t u t i o n de 38 t o u t e s c h o s e s . " I n h i s T h r e s o r des P r o p h e c i e s , w h i c h we know was 39 c o p i e d b y h i s d i s c i p l e L a B o d e r i e he i s even more e x p l i c i t . A c c o r d i n g t o P o s t e l a l l t h e p r o p h e c i e s c o n f i r m t h a t a new age i s i m m i n e n t , a new age o f w h i c h he i s n o t o n l y t h e p r o p h e t b u t a l s o the s p i r i t u a l l e a d e r , t h e "p.ape A n g e l i k e " t o t h e u n i v e r s a l monarch w h o , he d e c l a r e d , was t o be t h e k i n g o f F r a n c e . L a B o d e r i e , as d i s c i p l e o f P o s t e l , e n d e a v o u r e d t o p r e p a r e man f o r t h a t r e s t o r a t i o n o f man's p r i m a l 40 v i s i o n w h i c h had been o b s c u r e d by Adam's s i n . L a B o d e r i e echoes r e p e a t e d l y h i s m a s t e r ' s a p o c a l y p t i c b e l i e f s , s u b s c r i b i n g t o the J o a c h i m i t e p r o p h e c i e s o f t h e new coming 16 o f C h r i s t a f t e r s i x t h o u s a n d y e a r s and a d d u c i n g as p r o o f o f t h e i r v a l i d i t y n o t o n l y s p e c u l a t i o n s on t h e r e m a r k a b l e comet o f 1572 b u t a l s o t h e a s t o n i s h i n g r e s t i t u t i o n o f t h e a r t s and l e t t e r s i n t h e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e . P o s t e l had f i x e d t h e new coming f o r 1 5 8 3 . S e c r e t c o n c l u d e s , i n f a c t , t h a t i f L a B o d e r i e c a n be q u a l i f i e d as an " i l l u m i n f e " l i k e h i s m a s t e r , t h e n t h e p o e t ' s d e s i r e t o r e s t o r e t o man h i s " v i s i o n " o f t r u t h s l o n g v e i l e d i n o r d e r t h a t man be r e b o r n a t t h e new coming 42 o f C h r i s t c a n be s e e n as t h e key to h i s p o e t r y o f r e n e w a l . T h i s v i s i o n a r y a s p e c t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k c a n n o t however a c c o u n t a l o n e f o r t h e i m p o r t a n c e he g i v e s t o i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f s y m b o l s . As a c o n s t a n t a d m i r e r and t r a n s l a t o r o f t h e f i f t e e n t h c e n t u r y F l o r e n t i n e 43 N e o - P l a t o n i s t s , L a B o d e r i e a d o p t e d n o t o n l y t h e i r s y n c r e t i s t i c r e l i g i o u s o u t l o o k b u t a l s o an i m p o r t a n t a t t i t u d e a b o u t t h e a r t i s t and p o e t as l e a r n e d i n t e r p r e t e r o f s y m b o l s . Gombrich has shown t h a t a c o n c e p t i o n o f r e v e l a t i o n t h r o u g h s t u d y and i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f s y m b o l i s m g a i n e d new i m p o r t a n c e i n t h e 44 R e n a i s s a n c e w i t h t h e r e v i v a l o f N e o - P l a t o n i s m . F o r L a B o d e r i e , as f o r P i c o , t h e u n i v e r s e i s "one v a s t s y s t e m o f c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s i n 45 w h i c h each l e v e l o f e x i s t e n c e p o i n t s t o a n o t h e r l e v e l . " A c c e p t i n g t o a c e r t a i n d e g r e e t h e N e o - P l a t o n i c i d e a o f a h i e r a r c h y o f w o r l d s , L a B o d e r i e t o o s o u g h t i n a n c i e n t r e l i g i o u s w r i t e r s a k e y t o t h e " c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s " w h i c h a r e v i s i b l e m a n i f e s t a t i o n s o f t h e u n i q u e t r u t h . F o l l o w i n g G o d ' s w i l l t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i had h i d d e n t h e t r u t h i n m y s t e r i o u s symbols to p r e v e n t i t s b e i n g p r e m a t u r e l y p r o f a n e d . The t i m e o f r e s t i t u t i o n and o f r e v e l a t i o n was a t h a n d . Thus f o l l o w i n g h i s 17 N e o - P l a t o n i s t p r e d e c e s s o r s he hoped t o f i n d i n t h e a n c i e n t f a t h e r s o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a a means o f u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h e s y m b o l s . A l t h o u g h L a B o d e r i e m i n i m i z e d t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e c l a s s i c a l Greek and L a t i n myths as r e v e l a t i o n s o f t r u t h , he a c c e p t e d t h e n a t u r a l w o r l d as a h i e r o g l y p h o f t r u t h w h i c h c o u l d be u n d e r s t o o d i f c o r r e c t l y i n t e r p r e t e d , and he e m p h a s i z e d t h e c o n t r i b u t i o n s o f t h e l e g e n d a r y Z o r o a s t e r , t h e C h a l d a e a n O r a c l e s , Hermes T r i s m e g i s t u s , O r p h e u s , P y t h a g o r a s and e s p e c i a l l y t h e J e w i s h K a b b a l a h . L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t i o n o f h i s r o l e o f d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d and l e a r n e d i n t e r p r e t e r o f symbols f i n d s s p e c i f i c e x p r e s s i o n i n h i s r e p e a t e d r e f e r e n c e t o h i m s e l f as t h e new O r p h e u s . F o r L a B o d e r i e as f o l l o w e r o f t h e K a b b a l i s t b e l i e f i n t h e e s s e n t i a l v a l u e o f t h e name i t s e l f as c o n t a i n i n g t h e s u b s t a n c e , t h e f a c t t h a t an anagram o f h i s own name, G u i d o n L e f e v r e , p r o d u c e d " L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE" was p r o o f o f h i s c o n s e c r a t i o n t o and i n s p i r a t i o n by the One, G o d , t h e u n i q u e and e t e r n a l T r u t h . The i m p o r t a n c e f o r R e n a i s s a n c e w r i t e r s o f t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e Orpheus myth has b e e n s e t f o r t h b y D . P . W a l k e r . I t was n o t M a r s i l i o F i c i n o a l o n e who saw Orpheus as t h e p r o t o t y p e o f 46 t h e i n s p i r e d and i n s p i r i n g p o e t - p r i e s t . F o r t h e R e n a i s s a n c e P l a t o n i s t s i n g e n e r a l , as f o r L a B o d e r i e t h e a p o l o g i s t , t h e r i c h n e s s o f c o n n o t a t i o n s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e myth o f Orpheus as h e r o , r e l i g i o u s t e a c h e r , p h i l o s o p h e r and p o e t r e i n f o r c e d t h e p e r s u a s i v e n e s s o f t h e O r p h i c a ( t h e w r i t i n g s a t t r i b u t e d t o Orpheus) as p a r t o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a i n c o n f i r m i n g t h e c o m p a t i b i l i t y o f P l a t o n i s m w i t h 18 C h r i s t i a n i t y . As p o e t , L a B o d e r i e i n v o k e d above a l l t h e s p i r i t o f Orpheus t h e l e g e n d a r y s i n g e r p o s s e s s e d o f P l a t o n i c f u r o r , d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d t o l e a d t h e p e o p l e t o h a r m o n i o u s c o n c o r d t h r o u g h a v i s i o n 48 o f h i s s u p e r n a t u r a l l y r e v e a l e d k n o w l e d g e . L a B o d e r i e makes c o n t i n u a l r e f e r e n c e t o h i s c o n c e p t o f h i s own r o l e as p o e t . Orpheus and D a v i d were f o r h i m t h e models o f t h e t r u e p o e t , i n s p i r e d by " t h e O n e , " t h e t r u e G o d , t o g u i d e men t o Him 49 by the enchantment o f t h e i r m u s i c . The m o t t o p r i n t e d a t t h e b e g i n n i n g and end o f h i s p u b l i c a t i o n s , s i n g s f o r t h h i s c o n t i n u i n g p o e t i c a s p i r a t i o n : CAPIQE AA&IA O p $ I K -»2 f£.N BPT"0| ("May H o l y D a v i d s p r o u t f o r t h as One o r p h i c a l l y " ) . " ^ The most f u l l y d e v e l o p e d p r e s e n t a t i o n o f L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t o f t h e p o e t ' s r o l e i s t o be f o u n d i n a l o n g e x h o r t a t i o n t o t h e p o e t s o f h i s d a y , i n w h i c h t r a n s l a t i o n s o f O r p h i c f r a g m e n t s and o f t h e P s a l m s a r e embedded i n o r d e r t o show t h a t t h e same God i n s p i r e d b o t h . The f o l l o w i n g a n a l y s i s o f t h e poem a d d r e s s e d to L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s i s o f f e r e d i n an a t t e m p t t o c l a r i f y L a B o d e r i e ' s p o s i t i o n p r e l i m i n a r y t o a p r e s e n t a t i o n o f h i s m a j o r w o r k s . The " c a n t i q u e " e n t i t l e d " G u i d o n L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e aus P o e t e s de ce Temps, se j o u a n t a b o n e s c i e n t s u r 1'Anagrammatisme de s o n nom, L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE" was p u b l i s h e d i n 1571 w i t h o t h e r s h o r t poems a t t h e end o f t h e E n c y c l i e . L a B o d e r i e i s t h e r e f o r e p r e s u m a b l y a d d r e s s i n g h i m s e l f t o t h e p o e t s o f t h e P 1 6 i a d e and t h e i r f o l l o w e r s . He e x p r e s s e s f i r s t h i s a p p r e c i a t i o n f o r t h e i r p o e t i c f u r o r : 19 Poetes excellens, Espris venus des Cieus . . . (Encyclie, p. 189) He believes them to have been led astray i n t h e i r excessive i m i t a t i o n of and admiration for c l a s s i c a l a n t i q u i t y , however, and emphasizes that the immortality which they sought could be won only through a f a i t h f u l presentation of the t r u l y divine i n s p i r a t i o n of the One true God: Vous l e s vieus admirans admirables aus vieus, Ausquels l e Luth Gregeois, de qui l e chant enchante, Rend l a Lyre de Dieu beaucoup moins allechante: J e vous p r i de penser que l a douceur du son Ne se d o i t pas nommer l'Ame de l a chanson: Mais l'Ame est l e subjet que l a Muse veut suivre, Qui s ' i l est e t e r n e l , e t e r n e l l e f a i t v i v r e La chanson avec l u i . . . (Encyclie, pp. 189-190) Of a l l the ancient poets Orpheus alone, d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d singer and theologian, i s worthy of i m i t a t i o n : Imitez pour l e moins pour avoir plus d'honneur D'entre les Sonneurs Grecs tout l e premier Sonneur. (Encyclie, p. 190) The f i r s t stanza closes with a couplet which i s to be repeated with v a r i a t i o n s as a r e f r a i n throughout the poem: Ecoutez l e s beaus Chans de sa Lyre etofee, Comme Orfee est unique, aussi L'UN GUIDE ORFEE. (Encyclie, p. 190) There follow f i v e stanzas c o n s i s t i n g mainly of t r a n s l a t i o n s and adaptations of Orphic hymns designed to confirm Orpheus as one of the ancient fathers of the p r i s c a theologia whose writings were interpreted by s y n c r e t i z i n g Renaissance Neo-Platonists as v e i l e d 52 presentations of the one eternal truth. Greek polytheism i s 20 interpreted i n the Orphic hymns as a mask of monotheism: "Voy l e Verbe d i v i n . . . "II est UN, de par soy, toutes choses encore "Lui-memes a cree, et en e l l e s i l est, . . . "Et J u p i t e r est Un, un Pluton, Bacchus Un, "Un S o l e i l , Un Dieu Seul, a tous ces noms commun. "Jove est l e premier Dieu, Jove est l e dernier Dieu, "Jove est principe et Chef, Jove est f i n , et m i l i e u , "Et de Jove tout est: . . . "Seul et unique Dieu, de tout l'autheur supreme. (Encyclie, pp. 190-192) Not only i s Orpheus made to confirm the unity of revealed truth, but also he i s interpreted as having announced the C h r i s t i a n T r i n i t y i n Unity: Meme ce grand Harpeur a voulu designer Le F i l s , et saint E s p r i t pour les siens enseigner. "La Sagesse, d i t - i l , fut l a mere premiere "Avec l e dous Amour, 6 Bouche de lumiere! (Encyclie, p. 1 9 2 ) 5 3 In the seven stanzas of the second section Orpheus as the d i v i n e l y - i n s p i r e d singer i s shown to have h i s counterpart i n David, with translations of psalms of the one r e i n f o r c i n g translations of hymns of the other: "Tu temperes, d i t - i l , tout ce grand monde creus "Seul aveques ta Harpe aus accords sonoreus. Que veut i c i chanter ce Harpeur et Poete Sinon ce qu'a chante' l e Harpeur et Prof£te Que 1'Esprit saint dleut quand i l voulut changer La h o u l l e t t e en un sceptre, et en Roy l e Berger? "Les Cieus vont racontant l a g l o i r e a Dieu rendue, "Et l'oeuvre de ses mains montre leur gtendue . . . (Encyclie, p. 193) The r e f r a i n i s accordingly modified i n these stanzas to: 21 E c o u t e z l e s beaus Chans de l e u r L y r e e t o f e e S i L ' U N g u i d e D a v i d , a u s s i L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 193) L a B o d e r i e e m p h a s i z e s t h e u n i t y o f t h e i r i n s p i r a t i o n : On d i r o i t que l ' 0 r f £ e a u r o i t ouy D a v i d , Ou que D a v i d du s o n d ' O r f £ e se r a v i t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 193) The u n i t y i s n o t f o r t u i t o u s . F o l l o w i n g t h e t r a d i t i o n o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a s u g g e s t e d by F i c i n o , L a B o d e r i e p l a c e s Orpheus i n t h e l i n e o f i n h e r i t o r s o f t h e M o s a i c t r a d i t i o n : Car O r f e e en E g y p t e aus s a c r e z l i v r e s l e u t . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 9 6 ) 5 4 He p o i n t s o u t t h e i r common e t h i c a l i n f l u e n c e i n c i v i l i z i n g and e l e v a t i n g t h e i r p e o p l e s by t h e p o e t i c power o f t h e i r d i v i n e i n s p i r a t i o n : Oyez j e vous en p r i ce q u ' i l v a r e c o r d a n t , Oyez comme e s t O r f e e a D a v i d a c c o r d a n t . D a v i d c o n d u i t aus mons l e s t r o u p e a u s de s a L y r e , E t de s a L y r e O r f S e a soy l e s b e s t e s t i r e . D a v i d a gouverne" p a r L o i s l e p e u p l e H £ b r i e u , E t l e s a c r e 0 r f £ e i n t e r p r ^ t e de D i e u A d^tourne" du m e u r t r e e t v i v r e d e s h o n n e s t e L e s hommes i m i t a n s t o u t e sauvage b e s t e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 195) A t r u l y s u p e r n a t u r a l power was i n v e s t e d i n D a v i d and O r p h e u s , supreme examples o f t h e p o e t d e v o t e d t o hymning t h e One G o d : E t a s a L y r e O r f e e un t e l a c c o r d p r e s t a , Que l e s f l e u v e s c o u r a n s t o u t c o u r t i l a r r e s t a , E t f e i s t que des f o r e s t s e t des r o c h e r s l a danse S a u t e l o y e n t a p r e s l u i i m i t a n s s a c a d a n c e . Ou p o u r d i r e l e v r a y sans p l u s p o e t i s e r , I I s c e u t s i b i e n de D i e u l e s o u v r a g e s p r i s e r , E t N a t u r e s o n d e r en t o u t e chose i n f u s e , Que p l u s g r a n d que N a t u r e on f e i n t l ' a r t de s a M u s e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 195) True t o t h e i r v o c a t i o n , t h e s e p o e t s were a b l e n o t o n l y t o move t h e 22 n a t u r a l w o r l d b u t a l s o t o combat t h e power o f E v i l i t s e l f : Avec s e s Chans d i v i n s aus v i l l e s e t aus mons D a v i d s c e u t empecher l a f o r c e des Demons, E t avecques s a H a r p e , e t ses Odes s e r a i n e s S c e u t O r f e e e n c h a n t e r l e dous c h a n t des S e r e i n e s , Ou b i e n des v o l u p t e z , e t des d e l i c e s s e u r s Q u i l e s hommes m o r t e l s p i p e n t de l e u r s d o u c e u r s ( E n c y c l i e , p . 196) The f o r e g o i n g examples o f a common i n s p i r a t i o n o f two r e v e r e d p o e t - p r o p h e t - p r i e s t s a r e f o r L a B o d e r i e c o n f i r m a t i o n o f t h e . u n i t y o f t r u t h and o f t h e harmony o f t h e w o r l d w h i c h t h a t u n i t y i m p l i e s : E t que d i r a i - j e p l u s ? D a v i d c h a n t e en e s p r i t L e b e a u Chant n u p t i a l de l ' E g l i s e e t de C h r i s t , E t O r f e e a c o n j o i n t p a r s a Muse d i s c r e t e L a N a t u r e avec D i e u d ' a l l i a n c e s e c r e t e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 196) I n t h e t h i r d p a r t o f t h e poem L a B o d e r i e a d d r e s s e s h i m s e l f once a g a i n d i r e c t l y t o h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s . He assumes a p o l e m i c a l tone t o i n d u c e them t o f o l l o w t h e examples o f Orpheus and D a v i d , t o seek o u t t h a t u n i t y o f t r u t h and t o hymn t h a t h a r m o n y . They a r e t o abandon a l l i m m o r a l v e r s e d e d i c a t e d t o t h e b l i n d a r c h e r C u p i d and i n f a c t a l l i m i t a t i o n o f c l a s s i c a l l e g e n d and m y t h . P e g a s u s ' w i n g s a r e u s e l e s s ; t h o s e o f t h e dove o f God c a n a l o n e e l e v a t e t h e i r s o n g s . I g n o r i n g P a r n a s s u s , t h e y s h o u l d l i f t up t h e i r eyes u n t o t h e t r u e m a g n i f i c e n c e o f C h r i s t i a n i n s p i r a t i o n : J e vous p r i e e t s u p p l i e , 6 F r a n c o i s c h a n t r e s d o u s , A i n s i q u ' e u s d e s o r m a i s que L ' U n nous g u i d e t o u s , E t p l u s 1 ' a v e u g l e A r c h e r , n i s e s f a i s i m p u d i q u e s Ne s e r v e n t d ' a r g u m e n t a r e m p l i r noz C a n t i q u e s : E t de mensonges o r e s n ' e s t i m o n r e n d r e beaus Nos v e r s , a i n s i que f o n t l e s p e i n t r e s l e u r s T a b l e a u s . 23 Le g r a n d T a b l e a u du C i e l , e t l a r i c h e p e i n t u r e De ce Rond Ornement, e t t o u t e l a N a t u r e Du g r a n d P e i n t r e m o n t r a n t l e s o e u v r e s e t v a l e u r s , Nous d o n n e r o n t a s s e z de p l a i s a n t e s c o u l e u r s . E t ne mendion p l u s p o u r p e i n d r e une Chim£re, L e s c o n t e s m o n s t r u e u s d ' H e s i o d e e t d'Hom£re: Que 1 ' E s p r i t s a i n t de D i e u en colombe v o i l e 1 Nous o u v r e l e s o u r g e o n , non l e C h e v a l a i l £ : E t C h r i s t l e mont des mons nous s o i t en n o s t r e E u r o p e , Comme i l e s t homme e t D i e u , P a r n a s s e a d o u b l e c r o p e . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 197) The r e f r a i n i s once a g a i n m o d i f i e d t o enhance t h e t o n e o f e x h o r t a t i o n : E t sonne s a b o n t e n o s t r e L y r e e t o f e e , Que L ' U N nous g u i d e t o u s , comme L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 197) The theme o f v i r t u e as t h e f i r s t r e q u i s i t e f o r a t r u e p o e t i s e l a b o r a t e d . L a B o d e r i e condemns t h e s u p e r f i c i a l h e d o n i s m o f t h e c o u r t p o e t s : Ou 1 ' E n f a n t que I o n p e i n t avecques un bandeau Bandez nous t i e n d r a - i l t o u s j o u r s de s o n c o r d e a u ? ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 9 8 ) 5 5 He d e s p i s e s c l a s s i c a l s o u r c e s i n as f a r as t h e y a r e r e l a t e d t o t h e " f a u s G r e g e o i s , " p o l y t h e i s t i c i d o l - w o r s h i p e r s whom he d i s t i n g u i s h e s f r o m t h e " t r u e " p o e t - p r i e s t s o f t h e m y s t e r y r e l i g i o n s ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 9 7 - 1 9 8 ) . H i s c o n d e m n a t i o n o f t h e Greeks e x t e n d s even t o i m i t a t i o n o f Greek t e r m s : E t C i n g e s n ' u s o n p l u s de t a n t d ' e t r a n g e s mots De ces C i n g e s G r e g e o i s p l u s l a s c i f s que marmots. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 19 7) L a B o d e r i e compares P l a t o ' s b a n i s h m e n t o f t h e p o e t s f r o m h i s R e p u b l i c 24 w i t h h i s own c a l l t o p e r s o n a l v i r t u e i n a c c o r d a n c e w i t h t h e example o f C h r i s t : E t s i P l a t o n b a n i t de s a f e i n t e C i t e L e s P o e t e s m e n t e u r s p l e i n s d 1 i m p u d i c i t e , C h r i s t q u i nous a b a s t i l a C i t e s u p e r n e l l e Nous d e f f e n d r a - i l p o i n t que nous n ' e n t r i o n s en e l l e ? C h r i s t e s t ne chastement d ' u n e c h a s t e P u c e l l e , E t c h a s t e i l a v e s c u en n o s t r e c h a i r m o r t e l l e , E t l e s c h a s t e s i l ayme, e t en f a i t s e s m i g n o n s : Soyon done c h a s t e s t o u s , e t a C h r i s t nous j o i g n o n s : C h a s t e s de c o r p s e t c o e u r , c h a s t e s en n o s t r e d i r e , E t r i e n que chastete* n o s t r e v e r s ne s o u p i r e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 9 8 ) 5 6 M o d i f i c a t i o n o f t h e r e f r a i n i n t h e two s t a n z a s on v i r t u e s o f t e n s t h e tone p r e p a r a t o r y t o t h e f i n a l hymning o f t h e One: B r i e f sonne c h a s t e m e n t n o s t r e L y r e e t o f e e , Que L ' U N nous g u i d e t o u s , comme L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 198) The f o u r s t a n z a s o f t h e f i n a l s e c t i o n a r e i n d e e d a hymn t o t h e p r i n c i p l e o f u n i t y w h i c h w i t h i t s c o r o l l a r y o f harmony c a n be s e e n as t h e l e i t m o t i f o f a l l L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k . The f i n a l m o d i f i c a t i o n o f t h e r e f r a i n r e p e a t s h i s e n t r e a t y t o h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s t o f o l l o w h i s example t o a p o e t r y o f C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m : Sonne done L ' U N p a r t o u t n o s t r e L y r e e t o f e e , Que L ' U N nous g u i d e t o u s , comme L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 200) L a B o d e r i e f i r s t draws a n a l o g i e s o f t h e supreme u n i t y o f God i n e v e r y r e a l m o f n a t u r e , and i n t h e s o c i a l , p o l i t i c a l and r e l i g i o u s o r d e r s : T o u t e s l e s p i e r r e s t i r e une P a n t a u r e a s o y , Le l i s de t o u t e s f l e u r s e s t 1 ' u n i q u e e t s e u l Roy . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 198-199) 25 The f e r v o u r o f h i s i n v o c a t i o n t o t h i s p r i n c i p l e o f U n i t y as 58 p e r f e c t i o n i s m o v i n g w i t n e s s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s e s s e n t i a l f a i t h i n a u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y . The m u l t i p l i c i t y and t h e d i v e r s i t y o f n a t u r a l and s p i r i t u a l f a c t o r s , even t h e i r c o n t r a s t s and c o n t r a r i e t i e s a r e f o r h i m a p r o f u s i o n o f m a n i f e s t a t i o n s o f t h e supreme One w h i c h i s a t once t h e i r s o u r c e and t h e i r e n d : 0 p a r f a i t e U n i t e q u i t e p e u t l i m i t e r ? 0 p a r f a i t e Unite" q u i t e p e u t i m i t e r ? A i n s i que l a L u m i e r e e s t p l u s d i g n e que l ' o m b r e A i n s i e s t l ' U n i t e " p l u s d i g n e que l e Nombre. E t comme e s t t o u t l e Temps c l o s de l ' E t e r n i t i , A i n s i e s t t o u t l e Nombre e n c l o s de l ' U n i t e . De tous l e s m e r v e i l l e u s n ' e s t p o i n t L ' U N l a m e r v e i l l e Q u i s o n c o n t r a i r e u n i t e t 1 ' i m p a i r a p a r e i l l e ? Ce q u i en p l u s i e u r s p a r s se d i v i s e e t r e s o u t P a r l a f o r c e de L ' U N e s t u n i q u e en s o n t o u t . Ce q u i p a r a c c i d e n s a nom de m u l t i t u d e R e v i e n t p a r l e s u j e t a L ' U N e t s o l i t u d e . L ' U N e s t de s o y , p a r s o y , e t en s o y r e t o u r n e , L ' U N o r n e t o u t e c h o s e , e t de n u l e s t o r n £ : B r e f L ' U N e s t s a r a c i n e , e t se nomme soymdme, L ' U N s o n Q u a r r e , s o n Cube, e t s a r e g i e s u p r e m e . Sonne done L ' U N p a r t o u t n o s t r e L y r e d t o f £ e , Que L ' U N nous g u i d e t o u s , comme L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 200) Thus t h e c i r c l e i s L a B o d e r i e ' s f a v o u r e d s y m b o l , f o r i t shows n o t o n l y p e r f e c t f o r m b u t a l s o p e r f e c t s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y i n t h e c o n t i n u o u s r e t u r n o f a l l c r e a t i o n t o t h e f i r s t p r i n c i p l e o f U n i t y : Un C e r c l e e n t r e l e s p l a n s e s t ma FIGURE E L U E , U n i q u e aus p r o f o n s C o r p s l a S f e r e r e v o l u e : E t t o u t l e Monde e s t un . . . „ ( E n c y c l i e , p . 200) The s e a r c h f o r u n i t y i s t h e theme o f w h i c h a l l L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k s a r e v a r i a t i o n s . The t e r m i t s e l f , " l ' u n , " becomes h e r e a f u r t h e r p r o o f o f t h e p o e t ' s r o l e as l e a r n e d and above a l l v i r t u o u s i n t e r p r e t e r 26 o f t h e u n i v e r s a l harmony: S i vous r e t o u r n e z L ' U N , vous y t r o u v e r e z N u l , E t q u i v e u t nu a nu L ' U N a d m i r a b l e e n t e n d r e , F a u t q u ' i l s o i t N u l en soy p o u r e n soy L ' U N c o m p r e n d r e : On ne c o n n o i s t p o i n t L ' U N f o r s p a r p r i v a c i o n De m a t i e r e , de s e n s , e t t o u t e p a s s i o n . fif. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 200) The poem c l o s e s w i t h a s i m p l e a f f i r m a t i o n o f h i s f a i t h : E n f i n L ' U N e s t sans f i n , l ' E t e r n i t e " u n i e , Une l a Deite" e t e r n e l l e , i n f i n i e . Sonne done L ' U N p a r t o u t n o s t r e L y r e g t o f g e Que L ' U N nous g u i d e t o u s , comme L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 201) L a B o d e r i e ' s c h o i c e o f Orpheus and D a v i d t o e x e m p l i f y h i s c o n c e p t o f t h e r o l e o f the p o e t i s thus s i g n i f i c a n t f o r s e v e r a l r e a s o n s . F i r s t l y , i t i n d i c a t e s h i s deep c o n v i c t i o n t h a t t h e r e i s one u n i v e r s a l t r u t h , however v a r i o u s l y i t may have been e x p r e s s e d , w h i c h t h e t r u e p o e t i s c a l l e d t o g l o r i f y . As has been shown a b o v e , L a B o d e r i e f e l t t h a t h i s p e r s o n a l v o c a t i o n was t o r e v e a l t h a t t r u t h w h i c h had p r e v i o u s l y been p r e s e n t e d u n d e r d i v e r s e v e i l s . S e c o n d l y , t h e l i n k i n g o f a G r e e k p o e t - p r i e s t and o f a Hebrew p o e t - k i n g p o i n t s t o L a B o d e r i e ' s d e s i r e t o s e a r c h o u t i n a l l known a n c i e n t r e l i g i o n s ( t h a t i s t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a he d i s c o v e r e d p a r t l y f r o m h i s F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t p r e d e c e s s o r s and p a r t l y t h r o u g h h i s own l i n g u i s t i c s t u d i e s ) c l u e s as t o t h e " s e c r e t s " o f e t e r n a l t r u t h . T h i r d l y , h i s a d m i r a t i o n f o r two f i g u r e s esteemed by t h e R e n a i s s a n c e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s f o r t h e i r m u s i c a l as w e l l as f o r t h e i r v e r b a l e f f e c t s s u g g e s t s t h e i m p o r t a n c e w h i c h h e w i l l l a t e r g i v e t o t h e r h y t h m i c v e r s e o f hymns and p s a l m s . 27 LA BODERIE'S SOURCES C l a r i f i c a t i o n o f t h e u n i v e r s a l harmony composed b y God t h e A r c h i m u s i c u s was L a B o d e r i e ' s p u r p o s e as a p o e t ; r e v i v a l o f a n c i e n t wisdom was h i s means t o t h a t e n d . Even as a l a t e - R e n a i s s a n c e C a t h o l i c a p o l o g i s t L a B o d e r i e had t h e c u r i o s i t y o f a n e a r l y h u m a n i s t p h i l o l o g i s t a n d a d e l i c a t e " temperament t o w h i c h t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t " p o e t i c t h e o l o g y " was p a r t i c u l a r l y 61 a t t r a c t i v e . Thus he r e t u r n e d c o n s t a n t l y t o t h e body of s u p p o s e d l y a n c i e n t wisdom f o u n d i n t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a r e v i v e d by F i c i n o and t h e 62 N e o - P l a t o n i s t s . I n t h e s e e s o t e r i c w r i t i n g s , as w e l l as i n t h e J e w i s h K a b b a l a h and i n t h e a p o c a l y p t i c p r o p h e c i e s o f G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l c a n be f o u n d t h e b a s e s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t o f u n i v e r s a l harmony T h a t r e v e l a t i o n was t o be e f f e c t e d t h r o u g h a r e v i v a l . I n a n a l y z i n g F i c i n o ' s i d e a o f h i s h i s t o r i c a l p o s i t i o n K r i s t e l l e r has c l a r i f i e d s u c h a n o t i o n as b e i n g l e s s a " r e v i v a l o f c l a s s i c a l a n t i q u i t y " t h a n a " r e b i r t h o f t h e a r t s g u i d e d by a n t i q u i t y ; " i t was a c o n c e p t " d e r i v e d f r o m c e r t a i n r e l i g i o u s n o t i o n s o f t h e M i d d l e Ages t h a t r e f e r r e d o r i g i n a l l y t o a p e r s o n a l and i n d i v i d u a l r e g e n e r a t i o n and were l a t e r 63 a p p l i e d t o t h e a r t s and t o s o c i a l i n s t i t u t i o n s . " I n t h i s l i g h t L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h r e l i g i o u s r e v i v a l f o u n d e d on a r t i s t i c r e v i v a l i s c l e a r . The r e b i r t h o f t h e a r t s was an i n d i c a t i o n o f t h e 64 w i l l o f d i v i n e P r o v i d e n c e t h a t t h e h o u r o f r e v e l a t i o n was n e a r . I t i s c l e a r a l s o why as d i s c i p l e o f F i c i n o he t u r n e d t o t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a 28 as a u t h e n t i c t e s t i m o n y o f a v e n e r a b l e t h e o l o g i c a l t r a d i t i o n t r a n s m i t t e d t h r o u g h P l a t o ' s r e l i g i o u s p h i l o s o p h y t o t h e C h r i s t i a n f a i t h . L a B o d e r i e was o f c o u r s e n o t a l o n e i n f o l l o w i n g F i c i n o ' s p r o b i n g i n t o the s e c r e t s o f the e s o t e r i c t r a d i t i o n . The s y n c r e t i z i n g p r o c e s s o f f i n d i n g c o n f i r m a t i o n f o r t h e C h r i s t i a n f a i t h i n a n c i e n t m y s t e r y r e l i g i o n s w h i c h was r e v i v e d i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e by F i c i n o was 66 advanced even more r a d i c a l l y by P i c o . T h e i r I t a l i a n f o l l o w e r s a d o p t e d t h e o c c u l t r e v e l a t i o n s f o r i n t e r e s t s as d i v e r s e as t h e i r m a g i c o - a s t r o l o g i c a l t e a c h i n g s o r t h e c o n c e p t s o f s y m b o l i c i m a g e r y 6 7 d e v e l o p e d by F i c i n o and P i c o . D . P . W a l k e r has shown t h a t F r e n c h w r i t e r s ' i n t e r e s t i n t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a was d i r e c t l y a t t r i b u t a b l e t o t h e i n f l u e n c e o f t h e s e 6 8 I t a l i a n N e o - P l a t o n i s t s . The F r e n c h were however b o t h more c a u t i o u s w i t h r e g a r d t o i m p l i c a t i o n s o f m a g i c , p a g a n i s m and h e r e s y , and a l s o more p a t r i o t i c i n t h a t t h e y p r a i s e d t h e D r u i d s as t h e e a r l i e s t o f t h e sages a f t e r t h e F l o o d and even i n c l u d e d t h e m e d i e v a l S t . D e n i s i n t h e 69 l i n e o f w i s e men i n r e c e i p t o f t h e o r i g i n a l r e v e a l e d t r u t h . The F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e was i n f l u e n c e d by t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a t h r o u g h f i g u r e s as d i v e r s e i n t i m e and s p i r i t as L e f e v r e d ' E t a p l e s and J e a n B o d i n . ^ Among t h e s e w r i t e r s L a B o d e r i e s t a n d s o u t b o t h f o r h i s c o n s t a n t use o f e l e m e n t s o f t h e e s o t e r i c t r a d i t i o n and f o r h i s r a d i c a l t r a n s f o r m a t i o n o f t h a t t r a d i t i o n i n h i s u n i q u e m y s t i c o - n a t i o n a l v i s i o n . The a u t h o r i t y o f the C h u r c h F a t h e r s and t h e i r a c c e p t a n c e i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e as c l a s s i c a l w r i t e r s h e l p s t o e x p l a i n why L a B o d e r i e , 29 who had p r o c l a i m e d h i m s e l f a C a t h o l i c a p o l o g i s t , b e l i e v e d h i m s e l f j u s t i f i e d i n a d d u c i n g i n h i s a p o l o g e t i c w o r k s t h e p r e - C h r i s t i a n p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a . ^ S t . A u g u s t i n e was p r e d o m i n a n t among t h e e a r l y C h u r c h . F a t h e r s i n h i s i n f l u e n c e on R e n a i s s a n c e humanism t h r o u g h P e t r a r c h and on 72 R e n a i s s a n c e P l a t o n i s m t h r o u g h F i c i n o . A u g u s t i n e ' s w o r k s were r e a d and r e - i n t e r p r e t e d , w i t h t h o s e o f t h e o t h e r F a t h e r s , as p a r t o f t h e a n c i e n t l i t e r a t u r e on t h e c u r r i c u l u m o f t h e new h u m a n i s t s . Even more i m p o r t a n t f o r t h e p r e s e n t s t u d y , A u g u s t i n e ' s a u t h o r i t y d e t e r m i n e d F i c i n o ' s a t t e m p t a t c r e a t i n g a s y s t e m o f C h r i s t i a n P l a t o n i s m i n w h i c h A u g u s t i n e ' s p h i l o s o p h i c and N e o - P l a t o n i c e l e m e n t s were r e v i v e d and l a t e r t r a n s m i t t e d t o p h i l o s o p h e r s , t h e o l o g i a n s and p o e t s i n f l u e n c e d by F i c i n o ' s P l a t o n i s m . Raymond M a r c e l has p o i n t e d o u t t h a t as A u g u s t i n e s e r v e d as a model f o r a s y n c r e t i s m o f C h r i s t i a n and P l a t o n i c d o c t r i n e , so o t h e r 73 Greek F a t h e r s s e r v e d as s o u r c e s f o r a w i d e r r e l i g i o u s s y n c r e t i s m . D . P . W a l k e r h a s c l a r i f i e d t h e p o i n t i n a f f i r m i n g t h a t t h e N e o - P l a t o n i c g n o s i s was e n l a r g e d by e l e m e n t s o f o r i e n t a l and Greek m y s t e r y r e l i g i o n s f o u n d i n t h e w r i t i n g s o f t h e supposed a n c i e n t w i s e men, t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i , and t r a n s m i t t e d t h r o u g h t h e e a r l y Greek F a t h e r s s u c h 74 as J u s t i n , C l e m e n t , E p i p h a n u s , E u s e b i u s , C y r i l and L a c t a n t i u s . F o r a C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g i s t and h u m a n i s t s u c h as L a B o d e r i e t h e a u t h o r i t y o f t h e s e Greek F a t h e r s as t h e o l o g i a n s enhanced t h e i r a t t r a c t i v e n e s s as c l a s s i c a l w r i t e r s o f t h e p r e - s c h o l a s t i c p e r i o d . I t must be e m p h a s i z e d t h a t however i r r e l e v a n t and e v e n V 30 a n t i p a t h e t i c t o C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e c e r t a i n e l e m e n t s o f t h e o r i e n t a l c u l t u r e s s u c h as t h e u r g i c m a g i c , a s t r o l o g y and alchemy m i g h t seem, t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a as a w h o l e was i n v o k e d i n d e f e n s e o f t h e p o i n t s o f C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e w h i c h most c o n c e r n e d t h e a p o l o g i s t s o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e . The H e r m e t i c a , t h e O r p h i c a and P l a t o were u s e d " t o show t h e u n i v e r s a l i t y and a n t i q u i t y o f t h e b e l i e f i n one G o d , i n t h e T r i n i t y , i n t h e c r e a t i o n ex n i h i l o , i n t h e i m m o r t a l i t y o f t h e s o u l and an a f t e r - 75 l i f e o f p u n i s h m e n t s and r e w a r d s . " As a h u m a n i s t p h i l o l o g i s t i n t h e l i b e r a l t r a d i t i o n o f t h e e a r l y R e n a i s s a n c e L a B o d e r i e was p a r t i c u l a r l y s u s c e p t i b l e t o t h e a t t r a c t i o n s o f a n o n - C h r i s t i a n a n c i e n t c u l t u r e and c o n c e r n e d t o e n s u r e i t s s u r v i v a l . Even though he was w r i t i n g a f t e r t h e C o u n c i l o f T r e n t o f 1566, p a r t i c i p a t i n g i n t h e p e r f e r v i d d e b a t e s o f t h e p o s t - t r i d e n t i n e C o u n t e r - R e f o r m , L a B o d e r i e c l u n g t o the example o f t h e C h u r c h F a t h e r s whose a u t h o r i t y seemed t o p e r m i t s u c h a l i b e r a l a c c e p t a n c e o f n o n - C a t h o l i c c u l t u r e . ^ I t i s i n p a r t t h i s a l l - e m b r a c i n g l i b e r a l i s m w h i c h a c c o u n t s f o r c r i t i c i s m o f h i s w o r k i n t h e s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y . ^ The t e x t s w h i c h L a B o d e r i e so e a g e r l y s t u d i e d i n c l u d e d f i r s t o f a l l t h o s e r e s u r r e c t e d and a d o p t e d by s y n c r e t i z i n g F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s . F i c i n o had f i r s t s u g g e s t e d the l i n e o f d e s c e n t o f the p r i s c i 78 t h e o l o g i . H i s v a r i o u s f o r m u l a t i o n s o f t h e a n c i e n t t r a d i t i o n c o m p r i s e d o r i e n t a l sages s u c h as Z o r o a s t e r and Hermes T r i s m e g i s t u s , l e a d e r s o f Greek m y s t e r y c u l t s s u c h as Orpheus and P y t h a g o r a s , P l a t o h i m s e l f as w e l l as t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s , and e v e n t h e D r u i d s and t h e p s e u d o - D i o n y s i u s 31 t h e A r e o p a g i t e , a l l o f whom were t h o u g h t t o have v e i l e d t h e i r knowledge o f t h e one T r u t h d i v i n e l y r e v e a l e d t o them. M o s e s ' s u p p o s e d l e g a c y t o t h e E g y p t i a n p r i e s t s had f a c i l i t a t e d t h e t r a n s m i s s i o n o f t h e o r i g i n a l d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n , f o r a l l the p r i s c i t h e o l o g i were s a i d t o have l e a r n e d f r o m them. T h e c o n c e p t o f v e i l e d t r u t h w h i c h was t o c o l o u r t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t e s t h e t i c d e r i v e d f r o m t h e M o s a i c t r a d i t i o n i n t h e K a b b a l a h a l s o ; had n o t God on M t . S i n a i g i v e n Moses o n l y two t a b l e t s , i n s t r u c t i n g h i m t o r e v e a l o n l y H i s " f a c e " and n o t H i s e n t i r e p r e s e n c e t o a p e o p l e as y e t u n p r e p a r e d f o r f u l l r e v e l a t i o n ? F i c i n o and h i s f o l l o w e r s f r o m P i c o on s o u g h t t o make a v a i l a b l e t h e t e a c h i n g s o f t h e s e n e w l y - a p p r e c i a t e d a n c i e n t p o e t s and p r i e s t s and t o p r o b e t h e i r w r i t i n g s f o r c l u e s t o t h e u n i v e r s a l t r u t h . L a B o d e r i e chose Orpheus as t h e p r e - e m i n e n t a n c i e n t p o e t and p r o p h e t . Not o n l y d i d he i n c o r p o r a t e t r a n s l a t i o n s o f the O r p h i c Hymns i n h i s own w o r k s b u t a l s o he s a n g h i s p r a i s e s i n many o r i g i n a l poems. I n t h i s c h o i c e he was s u r e l y i n p a r t f o l l o w i n g F i c i n o , f o r whom Orpheus o c c u p i e d a p a r t i c u l a r l y i m p o r t a n t p l a c e among t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i inasmuch as he was t h e o l d e s t o f t h e G r e e k m y s t e r y t h e o l o g i a n s , 79 and was t h o u g h t t o be t h e t e a c h e r o f P y t h a g o r a s and thus o f P l a t o . As D . P . W a l k e r has e m p h a s i z e d , f o r F i c i n o , who p r a c t i s e d a r i t u a l o f s i n g i n g O r p h i c hymns i n t h e g a r d e n a t C a r e g g i t o t h e accompaniment o f h i s l y r e i n o r d e r t o i n d u c e a s p i r i t u a l e l e v a t i o n , Orpheus was a l s o t h e p o e t i n s p i r e d by a l l t h e f u r o r s , p o e t i c , b a c c h i c , p r o p h e t i c and amorous, and who was a b l e t o t r a n s m i t t h a t i n s p i r a t i o n t o anyone who 32 s a n g o r l i s t e n e d t o h i s v e r s e s . The O r p h i c a u t i l i z e d by R e n a i s s a n c e s c h o l a r s f a l l i n t o t h r e e 81 g r o u p s . The f i r s t group o f f r a g m e n t s was e a s i l y a c c e s s i b l e i n L a t i n t r a n s l a t i o n f r o m t h e l a t t e r h a l f o f t h e f i f t e e n t h c e n t u r y . Of t h e s e O r p h i c f r a g m e n t s f o u n d embedded i n a n c i e n t w r i t i n g s , c h i e f l y t h o s e o f t h e G r e e k F a t h e r s s u c h as P s e u d o - J u s t i n , Clement o f A l e x a n d r i a and E u s e b i u s , and i n t h o s e o f P r o c l u s , some were p o s s i b l y p r e - P l a t o n i c b u t most were H e l l e n i s t i c . Inasmuch as t h e y had b e e n u s e d by t h e Greek F a t h e r s t o show t h a t a n y t h i n g v a l u a b l e i n G r e e k p h i l o s o p h y had b e e n d e r i v e d f r o m M o s e s , t h e y were an i m p o r t a n t e l e m e n t i n R e n a i s s a n c e r e l i g i o u s s y n c r e t i s m . The s e c o n d group o f O r p h i c a , t h e O r p h i c Hymns d a t i n g f r o m t h e s e c o n d o r t h i r d c e n t u r y A . D . , were t r a n s l a t e d by F i c i n o i n 1462 and c i t e d i n many o f h i s w o r k s b e f o r e t h e i r p u b l i c a t i o n i n 1500. L a B o d e r i e r e j e c t e d r i t u a l i s t i c o r t h e u r g i c p r a c t i c e s o f F i c i n o and P i c o , p r i z i n g t h e Hymns i n s t e a d f o r t h e i r m u s i c a l and e t h i c a l e f f i c a c y 82 and f o r t h e i r a d a p t a b i l i t y t o s y m b o l i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n . The t h i r d O r p h i c t e x t i s t h e A r g o n a u t i c a , a poem o f t h e l a t e f o u r t h c e n t u r y A . D . b a s e d l a r g e l y on t h e A r g o n a u t i c a o f R h o d e s . These v e r s e s were o f i n t e r e s t t o R e n a i s s a n c e s c h o l a r s i n g e n e r a l f o r t h e i r s h o r t p a s s a g e s o f cosmogony and f o r t h e m e n t i o n t h a t Orpheus had t r a v e l l e d t o E g y p t . L a B o d e r i e u s e d them a l s o i n h i s d e v e l o p m e n t o f a u n i v e r s a l h i s t o r y i n L a G a l l i a d e . I n summary, t h e O r p h i c a were a c c e p t e d by L a B o d e r i e as b y o t h e r R e n a i s s a n c e s y n c r e t i s t s f o r two m a i n r e a s o n s . A l t h o u g h t h e y were n o t a l l n e c e s s a r i l y composed by Orpheus h i m s e l f , t h e i r c o n t e n t was 33 c o n s i d e r e d t o be p a r t o f a v e r y a n c i e n t r e l i g i o u s t r a d i t i o n w h i c h p e r m i t t e d t h e R e n a i s s a n c e i n t e r p r e t e r s to l i n k Moses w i t h P l a t o and b o t h w i t h C a t h o l i c d o c t r i n e . T h e i r f o r m was c o n s i d e r e d t o be i n d i c a t i v e n o t o n l y o f the power o f m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s " b u t a l s o o f t h e v a l i d i t y o f t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t t h e o r y o f t h e v e i l i n g o f t r u t h w i t h s y m b o l s . The H e r m e t i c a , t e x t s a t t r i b u t e d t o M e r c u r i u s o r Hermes T r i s m e g i s t u s , were s i m i l a r l y i n t e r p r e t e d b y R e n a i s s a n c e s c h o l a r s as 83 p a r t o f an a n c i e n t r e l i g i o u s t r a d i t i o n . M o d e r n c r i t i c i s m has e s t a b l i s h e d t h a t t h e s e t e x t s o f s u p p o s e d l y a n c i e n t E g y p t i a n o r i g i n d e r i v e m a i n l y f r o m A l e x a n d r i a n P l a t o n i s m o f t h e t h i r d c e n t u r y A . D . , t h u s c l a r i f y i n g what R e n a i s s a n c e s c h o l a r s c o n s i d e r e d a r e m a r k a b l e 84 c o n g r u e n c e w i t h C h r i s t i a n and N e o - P l a t o n i s t t h o u g h t . The A s c l e p i u s (De v o l u n t a t e d i v i n a ) had been q u i t e w e l l known i n the M i d d l e Ages i n a L a t i n t r a n s l a t i o n a t t r i b u t e d t o A p u l e i u s , h a v i n g b e e n c i t e d i n A u g u s t i n e ' s C i v i t a t e D e i . The o t h e r t e x t s i n c l u d e t h e P i m a n d e r (De s a p i e n t i a e t p o t e s t a t e D e i ) , t h e D e f i n i t i o n e s A s c l e p i i , a group o f f i f t e e n s h o r t d i a l o g u e s , and t h e C r a t e r H e r m e t i s (De l a C o n n a i s s a n c e de D i e u e t de soi-meme i n t h e F r e n c h t r a n s l a t i o n o f 1557 b y du Pre'au) . A c c o r d i n g t o D . P . W a l k e r , t h e y had been unknown i n w e s t e r n Europe b e f o r e t h e f i f t e e n t h c e n t u r y , when F i c i n o ' s and L o d o v i c o L a z z a r e l l i ' s 85 t r a n s l a t i o n s f a c i l i t a t e d t h e d i f f u s i o n o f t h e h e r m e t i c w r i t i n g s . I n F r a n c e t h e H e r m e t i c a were a c c e p t e d f i r s t f o r t h e i r a p o l o g e t i c u s e f u l n e s s . L e f e v r e d ' E t a p l e s p u b l i s h e d , w i t h a commentary, 34 F i c i n o ' s L a t i n P i m a n d e r as e a r l y as 1494, r e - e d i t i n g i t w i t h t h e A s c l e p i u s and L a z z a r e l l i ' s C r a t e r H e r m e t i s i n 1 5 0 5 . S y m p h o r i e n Champier gave t h e f i r s t p u b l i c a t i o n o f L a z z a r e l l i ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f 86 t h e D e f i n i t i o n e s A s c l e p i i i n 1 5 0 7 . H e r m e t i c l i t e r a t u r e , h a l f - s c i e n t i f i c , h a l f - r e l i g i o u s , l e n t i t s e l f t o d i v e r s e u s e s and i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s . D u r i n g t h e t i m e o f C a t h e r i n e de M e d i c i i n t h e m i d d l e o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y t h e " s c i e n t i f i c " a s t r o l o g i c a l and a l c h e m i c a l w r i t i n g s were p r o b e d i n an a t t e m p t t o a c q u i r e o c c u l t p o w e r s . Dagens a s c r i b e s t h e " g o l d e n a g e " o f r e l i g i o u s h e r m e t i c i s m however t o t h e end o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y 8 7 and t h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h e s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y . L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f t h e H e r m e t i c a becomes c l e a r . L a B o d e r i e , as C a t h o l i c a p o l o g i s t , was wary o f t h e m a g i c a l and d e m o n o l o g i c a l powers w h i c h had a t t r a c t e d most o f t h e w r i t e r s o f 88 t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y . H i s t r a n s l a t i o n o f some o f F i c i n o ' s a s t r o l o g i c a l w r i t i n g s w i t h h i s L e s T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e i n d i c a t e s , h o w e v e r , h i s a c c e p t a n c e o f F i c i n o ' s l e s s d e t e r m i n i s t i c a t t i t u d e t o a s t r a l i n f l u e n c e w h i c h s t i l l p e r m i t s a c o n c e p t o f u n i v e r s a l harmony. I n L a B o d e r i e ' s v i e w o f t h e w o r l d as m u l t i p l e r e v e l a t i o n s o f a d i v i n e U n i t y the v e r y c o n c r e t e n e s s o f " s c i e n t i f i c " h e r m e t i c i s m , t h e a f f i n i t i e s e s t a b l i s h e d b e t w e e n t h e macrocosm and man t h e m i c r o c o s m as w e l l as between d i v e r s e e l e m e n t s o f t h e non-human w o r l d s e r v e d as p r o o f s o f 89 t h e One G o d . L a B o d e r i e p r o l o n g e d t h e t r a d i t i o n o f F i c i n o and L e f e v r e d ' E t a p l e s i n a d o p t i n g t h e H e r m e t i c a f o r a p o l o g e t i c p u r p o s e s . I n so 35 d o i n g he u t i l i z e d n o t t h e m y s t i c a l g n o s i s b u t r a t h e r t h e " s c i e n c e " o f a f f i n i t i e s b e t w e e n man, t h e cosmos and t h e supreme I n t e l l i g e n c e p e r m e a t i n g the u n i v e r s e . He thus f o u n d i n t h e c o n c r e t e w o r l d a s t o r e h o u s e o f s y m b o l s t o enhance h i s p o e t i c p u r p o s e . L i k e t h e H e r m e t i c a t h e C h a l d a e a n O r a c l e s were supposed by R e n a i s s a n c e s c h o l a r s t o be o f immense a n t i q u i t y , a l t h o u g h t h e y were 90 i n r e a l i t y a p r o d u c t o f t h e t i m e o f M a r c u s A u r e l i u s . The m a g i c o - m y s t i c a l a s p e c t s o f b o t h b o d i e s o f w r i t i n g s c o r r e s p o n d e d t o N e o - P l a t o n i s t and C h r i s t i a n g n o s t i c b e l i e f s o f t h e H e l l e n i s t i c e r a . A l l were r e c e i v e d by t h o s e y e a r n i n g f o r r e v e l a t i o n i n t h a t t i m e o f d i s t r u s t 91 o f t h e i n t e l l e c t and s p i r i t u a l d i s i l l u s i o n m e n t . The f i f t e e n t h c e n t u r y N e o - P l a t o n i s t s i n h e r i t e d t h e f r a g m e n t s known as t h e C h a l d a e a n O r a c l e s c h i e f l y f r o m N e o - P l a t o n i c w r i t e r s s u c h as I a m b l i c h u s , t h e f i r s t s y s t e m a t i z e r o f t h e o c c u l t s c i e n c e s who i n c o r p o r a t e d t h e O r a c l e s i n t o h i s " T h e u r g y , " and P o r p h y r y whose On t h e P h i l o s o p h y o f t h e O r a c l e s was t h e m a i n s o u r c e f r o m w h i c h e c c l e s i a s t i c a l w r i t e r s drew t h e i r i n f o r m a t i o n c o n c e r n i n g t h e s e 92 O r a c l e s . A g a i n , E u s e b i u s ' a u t h o r i t y as an e a r l y F a t h e r i n c o n s i d e r i n g t h e s e o r a c l e s t o be a u t h e n t i c e n c o u r a g e d t h e R e n a i s s a n c e s y n c r e t i s t s t o a c c e p t them as a d d i t i o n a l p r o o f o f t h e u n i q u e t r u t h p r o p o u n d e d b y t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i . I n f a c t t h e C h a l d a e a n O r a c l e s were t o a g r e a t e x t e n t , l i k e much o f t h e H e r m e t i c a , f o r m u l a s f o r a s t r o l o g i c a l and a l c h e m i c a l m a g i c , t h e t e r m " m a g i c " i t s e l f b e i n g t a k e n f r o m t h e C h a l d a e a n M a g i who were 36 t h o u g h t t o have b e e n i n h e r i t o r s o f Z o r o a s t e r ' s o c c u l t k n o w l e d g e . The metamorphoses o f t h e l e g e n d o f Z o r o a s t e r up t o t h e t i m e o f F i c i n o ' s i n c l u s i o n o f h i m as one o f t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i a r e i n t e r e s t i n g . B i d e z and Cumont have p r o v e d t h a t t o t h e G r e e k s Z o r o a s t e r was known n o t as t h e h i s t o r i c a l f i g u r e , t r u e t h e o l o g i a n and c r e a t o r o f a s t r o n g r e l i g i o u s s y s t e m , b u t r a t h e r as m a g i c i a n , a s t r o l o g e r , c o s m o g r a p h e r , n a t u r a l i s t and t e a c h e r o f t h e a l c h e m i s t 93 O s t a n e s . H e l l e n i s t i c Jews added t h e g r e a t name o f Z o r o a s t e r t o t h e i r t r a d i t i o n e i t h e r b y a s s i m i l a t i n g h i m t o a f i g u r e f r o m t h e O l d Testament o r e v e n by m a k i n g h i m the d i s c i p l e o f A b r a h a m , c o n s i d e r e d t o 94 , be t h e i n v e n t o r o f a s t r o l o g y . C h r i s t i a n s , h a v i n g h e a r d t h e G o s p e l s a c c o u n t o f t h e M a g i who h a v i n g s e e n a s t a r i n t h e E a s t came t o a d o r e t h e C h r i s t a t B e t h l e h e m , t r a n s f o r m e d Z o r o a s t e r i n t o a p r e c u r s o r o f 95 t h e new f a i t h . A c c o r d i n g t o B i d e z and Cumontj F i c i n o ' s a d o p t i o n o f Z o r o a s t e r and t h e C h a l d a e a n O r a c l e s f o r h i s P l a t o n i c t h e o l o g y was p r o b a b l y i n f l u e n c e d p r i n c i p a l l y by P l e t h o who i n h i s a s s i m i l a t i o n o f o r i e n t a l r e l i g i o n s t o P l a t o n i c p h i l o s o p h y s y s t e m a t i c a l l y a t t r i b u t e d t h e o r a c l e s 96 t o Z o r o a s t e r and t o h i s C h a l d a e a n M a g i . A l l t h e f o r e g o i n g a s p e c t s o f t h e l e g e n d a r y Z o r o a s t e r and h i s f o l l o w e r s a p p e a r i n L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k , e s p e c i a l l y i n r e l a t i o n t o t h e J e w i s h t r a d i t i o n as L a B o d e r i e m o d i f i e d i t i n t h e u n i v e r s a l h i s t o r y o f L a G a l l i a d e . 37 P y t h a g o r a s ' p l a c e among t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i was a s s u r e d b e c a u s e o f t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s ' c o n t e n t i o n t h a t , as one o f t h e a n c i e n t Greek m y s t e r y c u l t l e a d e r s he h a d b e e n b o t h an i n i t i a t e i n t h e O r p h i c 97 m y s t e r i e s and a t e a c h e r o f P l a t o . F u r t h e r m o r e t h e r e was a t r a d i t i o n 9 t h a t s u p p o s e d P y t h a g o r a s t o h a v e l e a r n e d i n E g y p t t h e M o s a i c d o c t r i n e s . The l i n k b e t w e e n h e r m e t i c a s t r o l o g y and P y t h a g o r a s ' s p e c u l a t i o n s on 99 numbers o n l y added t o h i s a u t h o r i t y as a p r i e s t . E v e n m e d i e v a l t h e o l o g i a n s s u c h as S t . Thomas and B o n a v e n t u r a had s a n c t i o n e d a s t r o l o g y , t o g e t h e r w i t h t h e number s c i e n c e s w h i c h i t s u p p o r t e d , as d e m o n s t r a t i o n o f t h e f u n d a m e n t a l s t r u c t u r e o f the c o s m i c o r d e r . L a B o d e r i e , i n h i s e l a b o r a t i o n s o f u n i v e r s a l harmony, was p a r t i c u l a r l y r e c e p t i v e t o s p e c u l a t i o n s on t h e s u b s t a n t i a l r e a l i t y o f number as s y m b o l w h i c h c a r r i e s i n i t s e l f t h e e s s e n c e o f a d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e and p o s s e s s e s t h e r e f o r e a n a c t i v e f o r c e . T h i s c o n c e p t o f t h e s a c r e d p r o p e r t i e s o f number was c e n t r a l t o K a b b a l i s t i c s p e c u l a t i o n s w h i c h i n f l u e n c e d L a B o d e r i e p r o f o u n d l y , and t o t h e d i v i n e o r d e r i n g o f t h e u n i v e r s e d e m o n s t r a t e d i n t h e t e n S e p h i r o t h o f t h e K a b b a l a h . The K a b b a l a h t h u s r e i n f o r c e d P y t h a g o r e a n s p e c u l a t i o n s on number i n L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e d i l e c t i o n f o r s e e i n g s i g n s o f t h e One i n m u l t i p l e m a n i f e s t a t i o n s . I n h i s a t t e m p t t o r e v e a l t r u t h t h r o u g h n u m e r i c a l s y m b o l i s m he was a g a i n g u i d e d by a n c i e n t w r i t e r s s u c h as t h e e a r l y N e o - P l a t o n i s t s who, a c c o r d i n g t o H o p p e r , as N e o - P y t h a g o r i c i a n s " c o n t i n u e d t o see i n t h e decad t h e a r c h e t y p a l p a t t e r n o f t h e u n i v e r s e 102 and i n t h e members o f the d e c a d t h e e x p r e s s i o n o f d i v i n e i d e a s . " . 38 L a B o d e r i e r e v e r e d as o r i g i n a l d i s s e m i n a t o r s o f the t r u t h o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a t h e D r u i d s o f a n c i e n t G a u l , s u p p o s e d l y e v e n more a n c i e n t t h a n t h e v e n e r a b l e Greek and o r i e n t a l p o e t - p r i e s t s c i t e d a b o v e . On t h e a u t h o r i t y o f C l e m e n t o f A l e x a n d r i a , F i c i n o had i n c l u d e d t h e D r u i d s on some o f h i s l i s t s as d e p o s i t a r i e s o f a p r o f o u n d r e l i g i o u s 103 t r u t h . B u t t h e I t a l i a n N e o - P l a t o n i s t s ' i n t e r e s t i n t h e G a l l i c f o r e f a t h e r s was s l i g h t compared t o t h a t o f t h e i r F r e n c h f o l l o w e r s . The c h r o n i c l e s o f t h e p s e u d o - B e r o s u s f o r g e d by A n n i u s o f V i t e r b o p r o v i d e d F r e n c h n a t i o n a l i s t s w i t h an a u t h o r i t y , however d o u b t f u l , f o r 104 t h e i r c o n t e n t i o n o f G a l l i c s u p r e m a c y . W i t h p a t r i o t i c f e r v o u r Ramus and e s p e c i a l l y S y m p h o r i e n Champier e x a l t e d t h e D r u i d i c p r i e s t s as p o e t s - m u s i c i a n s - p h i l o s o p h e r s - t h e o l o g i a n s who had communicated t o a l l the p e o p l e s o f a n t i q u i t y — E g y p t i a n s , G r e e k s and R o m a n s — t h e i r g a l l i c a t h e o l o g i a , w h i c h p r e a c h e d t h e i m m o r t a l i t y , o f t h e s o u l , t o g e t h e r w i t h t h e i n t e l l e c t u a l and a r t i s t i c f r u i t s o f t h e i r h i g h l y d e v e l o p e d c i v i l i s a t i o n . 1 * ^ L a B o d e r i e , as d i s c i p l e o f G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l , was u n c r i t i c a l l y r e c e p t i v e t o t h e p s e u d o - B e r o s u s . M a r g i n a l comments i n h i s h i s t o r y o f c i v i l i s a t i o n s e t f o r t h i n L a G a l l i a d e r e p e a t e d l y r e f e r t h e r e a d e r t o A n n i u s o f V i t e r b o ' s f a l s e c h r o n i c l e s i n s h o w i n g F r a n c e t o be t h e p l a c e o f o r i g i n and t h e t r u e home o f c i v i l i s a t i o n a c c o r d i n g t o d i v i n e w i l l . The D r u i d s h e r e s u p e r s e d e a l l o t h e r p r i s c i t h e o l o g i f o r t h e y a r e s e e n t o be t h e t e a c h e r s n o t o n l y o f A n t i q u i t y b u t a l s o o f Moses h i m s e l f . D i o n y s i u s t h e A r e o p a g i t e f o u n d a p l a c e i n the F l o r e n t i n e 39 N e o - P l a t o n i s t s ' p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a by r e a s o n o f t h e s i m i l a r i t y o f h i s w r i t i n g s t o t h o s e o f t h e O r p h i c P l a t o n i s t s and t h e J e w i s h K a b b a l a h . H i s s u p p o s e d d i r e c t r e l a t i o n s h i p t o S t . P a u l made h i m t h u s a l i n k b e t w e e n t h e most a n c i e n t r e v e l a t i o n s and C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e f o r P l a t o n i c t h e o l o g y . I n F r a n c e L e f e v r e d ' E t a p l e s and S y m p h o r i e n Champier a s s i m i l a t e d t h e p s e u d o - D i o n y s i u s t o t h e f i g u r e o f S t . D e n i s o f P a r i s . A c c o r d i n g t o D . P . W a l k e r , t h e i r s was a h u m a n i s t and a l s o n a t i o n a l i s t i c a t t e m p t " t o e n s u r e an h i s t o r i c a l c o n t i n u i t y between t h e pagan and t h e C h r i s t i a n w o r l d s w h i c h i s t o i n c l u d e m e d i e v a l F r a n c e and t h u s l e a d up u • • ..107 t o t h e i r own t i m e . L a B o d e r i e too gave t h e p s e u d o - D i o n y s i u s a p l a c e o f c h o i c e among t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i , l i n k i n g h i m , i n L a G a l l i a d e , w i t h t h e U n i v e r s i t y o f P a r i s and w i t h t h e D r u i d s . A s t u d y o f P l a t o and o f t h e e a r l y N e o - P l a t o n i s t s i s b e y o n d the scope o f t h i s b r i e f o u t l i n e o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a u t i l i s e d f i r s t by F i c i n o i n o r d e r t o r e c o n c i l e pagan p h i l o s o p h y and C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e i n a p i a p h i l o s o p h i a . I n h i s e l a b o r a t i o n o f N e o - P l a t o n i s t s y n c r e t i s m as d e v e l o p e d by F i c i n o and P i c o , L a B o d e r i e was a t t r a c t e d more by t h e s c o p e f o r a c c r e t i o n o f e s o t e r i c r e v e l a t i o n t h a n by t h e f o u n d a t i o n o f P l a t o n i c p h i l o s o p h y w h i c h had a t t r a c t e d F i c i n o . I t w i l l be s e e n t h a t L a B o d e r i e , a l t h o u g h he d e r i v e d much o f , h i s i n t e l l e c t u a l and a r t i s t i c o r i e n t a t i o n f r o m t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - i, 40 P l a t o n i s t s , was a l s o a G a l l i c a n C a t h o l i c a p o l o g i s t who e x a l t e d F r a n c e as t h e home n o t o n l y o f c i v i l i s a t i o n b u t a l s o o f t r u e r e l i g i o n , and a v i s i o n a r y a t t u n e d t o P o s t e l l i a n i l l u m i n i s m b a s e d on t h e K a b b a l a h r a t h e r t h a n t o r a t i o n a l p h i l o s o p h y . I t was i n t h e c o n t e x t o f C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s t h a t t h e J e w i s h 108 K a b b a l a h was f i r s t i n v e s t i g a t e d by R e n a i s s a n c e s c h o l a r s . A l t h o u g h P i c o was n o t t h e f i r s t t o m e n t i o n t h e K a b b a l a h , as he c l a i m e d i n h i s C o n c l u s i o n e s , n o r a Hebrew s c h o l a r o f t h e f i r s t r a n k , s t i l l , as S e c r e t has a f f i r m e d , h i s i n f l u e n c e was o f p r i m e i m p o r t a n c e i n t h e e v o l u t i o n o f K a b b a l i s t themes i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e b e c a u s e o f t h e h u m a n i s t 109 d i m e n s i o n w h i c h he gave t o C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s . The r e v i v a l o f t h e K a b b a l a h was r e g a r d e d as p a r t o f t h a t g e n e r a l r e v i v a l o f a n t i q u i t y s a n c t i o n e d b y t h e example o f C h u r c h F a t h e r s and s t i m u l a t e d by h u m a n i s t p h i l o l o g i a n s ' i n t e r e s t i n Hebrew and o t h e r o r i e n t a l l a n g u a g e s . 1 1 ^ The t r a d i t i o n a l n a t u r e o f t h i s body o f m y s t i c a l t h o u g h t i s u n d e r s c o r e d i n t h e t e r m " K a b b a l a h " i t s e l f w h i c h s i g n i f i e s i n Hebrew " r e c e p t i o n " o r " r e c e i p t . " K a b b a l a h i s n o t one d o c t r i n e , one c e r t a i n dogma o r s y s t e m , b u t t h e w h o l e e s o t e r i c t r a d i t i o n o f J e w i s h m y s t i c i s m . 1 " * " 1 H a v i n g b e e n t r a n s m i t t e d o r a l l y a t f i r s t , and o n l y t o i n i t i a t e s , i t i s a s e c r e t t r a d i t i o n i n a d o u b l e s e n s e : i t t r e a t s o f t h e h i d d e n t r u t h s o f b o t h t h e human and t h e d i v i n e w o r l d s , and a l s o i t i s r e s t r i c t e d t o a s m a l l e l i t e o f t h e c h o s e n who i m p a r t t h e i r k n o w l e d g e t o t h e i r 112 113 d i s c i p l e s . F o r t h e C h r i s t i a n K a b b a l i s t s o f the R e n a i s s a n c e t h e most i m p o r t a n t o f s e v e r a l documents r e l a t e d t o t h e K a b b a l a h was t h e 41 p s e u d o - e p i g r a p h i c Z o h a r , a p r o d u c t o f t h i r t e e n t h c e n t u r y S p a i n , w h i c h , a c c o r d i n g t o G . G . S c h o l e m , "became a k i n d o f B i b l e t o t h e K a b b a l i s t s and f o r c e n t u r i e s e n j o y e d an u n q u e s t i o n e d p o s i t i o n as a s a c r e d and 114 a u t h o r i t a t i v e t e x t . " I n h i s o r a t i o n on t h e d i g n i t y o f man P i c o p r e p a r e d the c o u r s e o f C h r i s t i a n K a b b a l i s m by s e t t i n g t h e J e w i s h m y s t i c a l h e r i t a g e o f r e v e l a t i o n by symbols"'"''"^ i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a i n w h i c h were t o be f o u n d v a r i o u s e x p r e s s i o n s o f t h e one t r u t h . I n h i s two s e r i e s o f K a b b a l i s t i c Conclusiones"*""*"^ and n o t a b l y i n h i s 118 H e p t a p l u s P i c o d e v e l o p e d many o f t h e themes w h i c h were t o a t t r a c t the a t t e n t i o n o f h i s C h r i s t i a n K a b b a l i s t s u c c e s s o r s . The s u c c e s s o r s i n t h e s y n c r e t i s t t r a d i t i o n f o u n d i n t h e K a b b a l a h a t r e a s u r e - h o u s e o f r e v e l a t i o n , w h e t h e r by means o f s p e c u l a t i o n on n u m b e r s , on names, on p o i n t s and l e t t e r s i n t h e Hebrew l a n g u a g e , s a c r e d b e c a u s e i t was t h a t o f the o r i g i n a l d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n , o r b y means o f s t u d y o f t h e Hebrew l e t t e r s , t h e o r i g i n a l symbols o f r e v e l a t i o n . P r e - e m i n e n t among t h e h u m a n i s t s was t h e Hebrew s c h o l a r J e a n R e u c h l i n ( 1 4 5 5 - 1 5 2 2 ) , w i t h t h o s e o f t h e l a t e f i f t e e n t h and e a r l y s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r i e s i n I t a l y , n o t a b l y G a l a t i n ( c . 1 4 6 0 - 1 5 4 0 ) , G i u s t i n i a n i ( 1 4 7 0 - 1 5 3 6 ) , F r a n c i s c o G i o r g i o (1460-1540) and A m b r o g i o 119 (1469-1540) . I n F r a n c e i n t e r e s t i n t h e K a b b a l a h was r e l a t i v e l y s l i g h t 120 b e f o r e t h e s e c o n d h a l f o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y . I n 1518 S y m p h o r i e n Champier w r o t e o f t h a t o r a l r e c e p t i o n w h i c h a l l o w e d t h e i n i t i a t e t o u n d e r s t a n d d i v i n e l a w as w e l l as d i v i n e and human t r u t h s , b u t w a r n e d 42 a g a i n s t m i s u s e o f s u c h k n o w l e d g e f o r m a g i c a l o r d i v i n a t o r y e n d s . The same s u s p i c i o n o f " c a b a l l e s v i e i e u s e s " i s f o u n d i n t h e F r a n c i s c a n J e a n T h e n a u d ' s S a i n c t e e t t r e s c h r e s t i e n n e c a b a l e (1519) composed a t t h e r e q u e s t o f F r a n c i s I , and w h i c h was f o l l o w e d by h i s s c a r c e l y more s y m p a t h e t i c e x p o s i t i o n i n t h e T r a i c t e de c a b a l e b a s e d l a r g e l y on t h e work o f R e u c h l i n . C o r n e l i u s A g r i p p a , i n h i s De o c c u l t a p h i l o s o p h i a ( 1 5 3 3 ) , drew on C h r i s t i a n K a b b a l i s t s ' themes o f c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s between t h e p h y s i c a l and c e l e s t i a l w o r l d s t o enhance h i s r e a l s u b j e c t o f n a t u r a l , c e l e s t i a l and c e r e m o n i a l m a g i c . R a b e l a i s ' g i b e s a t " H e r r T r i p p a " i n d i c a t e t h e g e n e r a l s u s p i c i o n o f s o o t h s a y e r s and m a g i c i a n s ; t h e h u m a n i s t s ' i n t e r e s t a p p e a r s , h o w e v e r , i n t h e famous l e t t e r i n w h i c h G a r g a n t u a ' s i n j u n c t i o n s f o r s t u d y i n c l u d e : " s a n s contemner l e s 121 T h a l m u d i s t e s e t C a b a l i s t e s . " I t was i n d e e d under t h e i m p e t u s o f h u m a n i s t p h i l o l o g i c a l i n t e r e s t , w i t h t h e s t u d y o f Hebrew a f t e r t h e o p e n i n g o f t h e r o y a l t r i l i n g u a l c o l l e g e i n 1530, t h a t t h e K a b b a l a h was s e r i o u s l y c o n s i d e r e d i n F r a n c e . G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l , b o t h s t u d e n t and t e a c h e r a t t h a t c o l l e g e , f o u n d i n h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e Zohar t h e k e y t o t h e u n i v e r s e . L a B o d e r i e , s t u d e n t o f Hebrew a t t h e r o y a l c o l l e g e and l a t e r d i s c i p l e o f P o s t e l , was t o f i n d i n t h e K a b b a l a h a s t r u c t u r e f o r h i s v i s i o n o f t h e u n i v e r s e . He was p r o u d t o p r o c l a i m h i m s e l f t h e f i r s t F r e n c h p o e t t o p r e s e n t i n v e r s e " l e s s e c r e t z des H e r b r i e u s " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 2 5 ) . L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f t h e K a b b a l a h had t h u s a t h r e e f o l d b a s i s . F i r s t l y , he c o n t i n u e d the N e o - P l a t o n i s t s y n c r e t i s t t r a d i t i o n , f i n d i n g e s p e c i a l l y i n P i c o and i n F r a n c i s c o G i o r g i o themes arid s y m b o l s c o n d u c i v e 43 t o an e x p l a n a t i o n o f u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y . S e c o n d l y , h i s e x t e n s i v e p h i l o l o g i c a l work i n Hebrew, S y r i a c and C h a l d a e a n s t i m u l a t e d an e x a c t 122 r e a d i n g o f t h e t e x t s . T h i r d l y , he d e v e l o p e d t h e c o s m o l o g i c a l and e s c h a t o l o g i c a l themes w h i c h P o s t e l h a d d e r i v e d f r o m h i s r e a d i n g o f t h e Zohar and o t h e r K a b b a l i s t i c t e x t s . G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l (1510-1581) was one o f the most a s t o n i s h i n g 123 f i g u r e s o f t h e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e . L i n g u i s t w i t h o u t e q u a l i n h i s d a y , Hebrew s c h o l a r and p u b l i s h e r o f the f i r s t A r a b i c grammar, b u t a l s o l e a r n e d i n b o t a n y , m a t h e m a t i c s , m e d i c i n e , cosmography and B i b l i c a l e x e g e s i s , he was s u c c e s s i v e l y p r o f e s s o r o f m a t h e m a t i c s and f o r e i g n l a n g u a g e s a t t h e C o l l e g e de L e c t e u r s R o y a u x , s e l f - a p p o i n t e d c h a s t i s i n g p r o p h e t t o F r a n c i s I , f o l l o w e r o f I g n a t i u s L o y o l a , p r o c l a i m e d h e r e t i c , c o l l e c t o r and t r a n s l a t o r o f r a r e o r i e n t a l m a n u s c r i p t s , and a n e x c e e d i n g l y p r o l i f i c w r i t e r . B u t P o s t e l ' s p r o p h e t i c i m a g i n a t i o n exceeded even h i s i n t e l l e c t u a l and p h y s i c a l e n e r g y — i n d e e d he adduced t h a t e n e r g y as p r o o f o f h i s " e l e c t i o n . " As s e l f - p r o c l a i m e d "Pape A n g e l i k e , " t h e r e i n c a r n a t i o n 124 o f t h e p r o p h e t E l i j a h , he b e l i e v e d h i m s e l f d i v i n e l y a p p o i n t e d t o l e a d t h e G a l l i c k i n g i n h i s e s c h a t o l o g i c a l m i s s i o n as u n i v e r s a l monarch t o a consummation o f t h e w o r l d and r e s t i t u t i o n o f h u m a n i t y t o i t s p r e - l a p s a r i a n g o l d e n a g e . P o s t e l , who had b e e n p r o c l a i m e d "amens" ( s e n s e l e s s ) b y h i s F r a n c i s c a n I n q u i s i t o r a t V e n i c e i n 1 5 5 5 , was f i n a l l y c o n f i n e d as a madman a t t h e m o n a s t e r y o f S a i n t - M a r t i n - d e s - C h a m p s f r o m 1564 t o t h e end o f h i s l i f e . The l a b y r i n t h i n e w i n d i n g s o f P o s t e l ' s i l l u m i n i s m d e f y s i m p l e 44 a n a l y s i s . M . S e c r e t has n e v e r t h e l e s s p r e s e n t e d t h e g e n e r a l s e n s e o f t h e m i l l e n a r i a n b e l i e f s , b a s e d l a r g e l y on h i s r e a d i n g o f t h e K a b b a l a h , 125 w h i c h i n f o r m e d n o t o n l y P o s t e l ' s w r i t i n g s b u t a l s o h i s p e r s o n a l l i f e . He f i r s t a t t e m p t e d t o e s t a b l i s h a " c o n c o r d i a m u n d i " by d e m o n s t r a t i n g t h e r e a s o n s f o r t h e w o r l d ' s a d o p t i n g C h r i s t i a n i t y , f o r w h i c h p r o j e c t he had p l a n n e d a p o l y g l o t B i b l e . S u b s e q u e n t t o a s e r i e s o f i l l u m i n a t i o n s he p r o c l a i m e d t h a t man and t h e w o r l d were t o l i v e f o u r a g e s : t h o s e o f n a t u r e , o f t h e w r i t t e n Law and o f g r a c e , and f i n a l l y t h a t o f c o n c o r d when man was t o be r e i n s t a t e d i n h i s o r i g i n a l p u r i t y and know a g a i n t h e c l a r i t y o f u n d e r s t a n d i n g g r a n t e d t o Adam Kadmon, t h e p r i m o r d i a l man, b e f o r e t h e f a l l . Two K a b b a l i s t i c themes, f i r s t o f t h e s p i r i t o f t h e M e s s i a h as t h e a r c h e t y p a l man o f whose s u b s t a n c e a l l men p a r t a k e and t o whose p e r f e c t i o n a l l w i l l be r e s t o r e d , and s e c o n d , o f t h e G i l g u l o r r e c i r c u l a t i o n o f s o u l s t o t h e i r d i v i n e o r i g i n a r e b a s i c t o t h i s 126 e s c h a t o l o g i c a l v i s i o n . P o s t e l h i m s e l f , who e x p e r i e n c e d a " r e b i r t h " as E l i j a h / M e s s i a h a t t h e t i m e o f h i s " i m m u t a t i o n " i n 1 5 5 2 , b e l i e v e d h i m s e l f t h e n c e f o r t h n o t o n l y t o u n d e r s t a n d a l l t h e s e c r e t s h i d d e n s i n c e t h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h e w o r l d b u t a l s o c a l l e d upon t o r e v e a l them. P o s t e l a t t r a c t e d s e v e r a l d i s c i p l e s and a d m i r e r s i n h i s p e r s i s t e n t a t t e m p t s t o e x p l a i n t h e w o r d o f God i n o r d e r t o p r e p a r e f o r t h e new coming o f C h r i s t " i n t r a n o s " and t h e r e - e s t a b l i s h m e n t o f the C h u r c h f o r w h i c h P a r i s was t o be t h e new J e r u s a l e m and t h e k i n g o f 127 F r a n c e t h e u n i v e r s a l m o n a r c h . A f t e r P o s t e l ' s c o n f i n e m e n t a t S a i n t - M a r t i n - d e s - C h a m p s t h e s e d i s c i p l e s c o n t i n u e d t o d i s s e m i n a t e h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s o f d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n and o f h e a v e n l y s i g n s s u c h as 45 t h e comet o f 1572 and t o e x h o r t t h e F r e n c h k i n g and h i s s u b j e c t s t o f u l f i l l t h e i r d i v i n e l y - o r d a i n e d m i s s i o n . N o t a b l e among t h e s e d i s c i p l e s were J e a n B o u l a e s e , c h o s e n t o e x p l a i n i n F r a n c e and a b r o a d t h e s i g n i f i c a n c e o f t h e E u c h a r i s t i n t h e M i r a c l e o f L a o n o f 1566; L a B o d e r i e , c h o s e n w i t h h i s b r o t h e r N i c h o l a s t o r e p r e s e n t P o s t e l i n t r a n s l a t i o n s f o r the 1572 P o l y g l o t B i b l e ; and C h a r l e s T o u s t a i n and B l a i s e de V i g e n e r e who, l i k e L a B o d e r i e , c o n t i n u e d P o s t e l ' s p r e d i c a t i o n t o H e n r i I I I a b o u t G a l l i c s u p r e m a c y . 128 L a B o d e r i e may be q u a l i f i e d as P o s t e l ' s " d i s c i p l e e ' l u . " H i s r e m a r k a b l e l i n g u i s t i c v o c a t i o n , s e c o n d o n l y t o P o s t e l ' s , must have l e d t o t h e i r m e e t i n g d u r i n g P o s t e l ' s s t a y i n P a r i s f r o m 1 5 6 2 - 1564, f o r a f t e r P o s t e l ' s c o n f i n e m e n t t o t h e m o n a s t e r y he recommended L a B o d e r i e t o M a s i u s as t h e o n l y s c h o l a r c a p a b l e o f t a k i n g up t h e t o r c h o f A r a b i c and S y r i a c s t u d i e s and t h e one who s h o u l d r e p l a c e h i m 129 a t A n t w e r p i n w o r k on t h e p o l y g l o t B i b l e . As l i n g u i s t , L a B o d e r i e t h u s h e l p e d t o r e a l i s e P o s t e l ' s f i r s t dream o f c o n c o r d . As p o e t , L a B o d e r i e e l a b o r a t e d P o s t e l ' s v i s i o n o f U n i v e r s a l r e s t i t u t i o n by c o n s t r u c t i n g i n L a G a l l i a d e a u n i v e r s a l h i s t o r y t o c o n f i r m P o s t e l ' s G a l l i c p r o p h e c i e s a c c o r d i n g t o h i s own " t h d o l o g i e r e s o l u t i v e . " I n summary, i t has b e e n shown t h a t i t i s i m p o s s i b l e a t t h i s t i m e t o t r a c e a d e t a i l e d b i o g r a p h y o f Giiy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e . H i s p r e - e m i n e n c e among h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s as an o r i e n t a l l i n g u i s t h a s , h o w e v e r , been e s t a b l i s h e d b y r e f e r e n c e t o h i s e a r l y b i o g r a p h e r s . 46 I n so f a r as L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c p r o d u c t i o n i s c o n c e r n e d , o n l y r e f e r e n c e t o t h e w o r k s t h e m s e l v e s c a n y i e l d a j u s t a p p r e c i a t i o n b o t h o f t h e a u t h o r ' s c o n c e p t i o n o f h i s h i s t o r i c a l r o l e as p o e t and o f h i s s y n c r e t i z a t i o n o f d i v e r s e a s p e c t s o f " a n c i e n t w i s d o m " f r o m t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a i n t h e f u l f i l m e n t o f t h a t r o l e . An a n a l y s i s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s e x h o r t a t i v e v e r s e a d d r e s s e d t o h i s c o n t e m p o r a r y p o e t s has r e v e a l e d t h e s p i r i t u a l and e t h i c a l b a s e s o f h i s p o e t i c m o t i v a t i o n as t h e s e l f - s t y l e d "new O r p h e u s " d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d t o l e a d men by h i s m e l o d i o u s c h a n t t o a t r u e r e b i r t h , a " r e s t i t u t i o n " n o t o n l y o f a n c i e n t wisdom b u t a l s o o f p r i m a l v i r t u e and communion w i t h t h e d i v i n e . L a B o d e r i e ' s a d o p t i o n o f t h e f i g u r e s o f D a v i d , t h e Hebrew p o e t - p r i e s t , and o f O r p h e u s , t h e l e a d e r o f G r e e k m y s t e r y r e l i g i o n s , t o r e p r e s e n t h i s c o n c e p t o f t h e t r u e p o e t has been s e e n t o i l l u s t r a t e n o t o n l y t h e r e l i g i o u s b a s i s b u t a l s o t h e s y n c r e t i z i n g method o f h i s p o e t i c w o r k . A l t h o u g h L a B o d e r i e ' s s u g g e s t i o n o f a new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m f o r F r e n c h p o e t r y was o r i g i n a l i n t h e l a t e 1 5 6 0 ' s , h i s s y n c r e t i z i n g use o f a n c i e n t and o r i e n t a l m y s t e r y c u l t s r e c o n c i l e d t o P l a t o n i c and C h r i s t i a n p r e c e p t s has b e e n shown t o f o l l o w t h e t r a d i t i o n o f t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s . L a B o d e r i e ' s r e s p e c t f o r t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a i n d i c a t e s h i s c o n f o r m i t y w i t h t h e t e n e t o f R e n a i s s a n c e h u m a n i s t f o l l o w e r s o f F i c i n o t h a t a body o f p r e - C h r i s t i a n k n o w l e d g e t r a n s m i t t e d i n m y s t e r y c u l t s down t o and t h r o u g h P l a t o c o u l d be r e c o n c i l e d w i t h t h e C h r i s t i a n r e v e l a t i o n . L a B o d e r i e ' s s p e c i a l i n t e r e s t i n t h e K a b b a l a h , h o w e v e r , has b e e n p o i n t e d o u t as i n d i c a t i v e 47 o f h i s p e r s o n a l m o d i f i c a t i o n o f t h e common a t t r i b u t i o n o f i m p o r t a n c e t o e l e m e n t s o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , and a l s o o f h i s c l o s e a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h t h e o r i e n t a l i s t and v i s i o n a r y G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l . That a s s o c i a t i o n has i n t u r n been e m p h a s i z e d b e c a u s e o f i t s i m p o r t a n c e f o r t h e i n t e r - p r e t a t i o n o f m i l l e n a r i a n and i l l u m i n i s t a s p e c t s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k . S o u r c e s f o r t h e t h e m a t i c c u r r e n t s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s v e r s e a r e t h u s s e e n t o be p r i n c i p a l l y N e o - P l a t o n i s t i n so f a r as t h e y f l o w f r o m t h e F l o r e n t i n e s y n c r e t i s t t r a d i t i o n o f r e v i v a l o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , p r i n c i p a l l y t h e K a b b a l a h , f o r C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c p u r p o s e s . C o l o u r e d by P o s t e l l i a n p r o p h e c i e s , t h a t t r a d i t i o n w i l l be shown t o assume i n L a B o d e r i e a h i g h l y s i n g u l a r e x p r e s s i o n . T h u s , i n t h e p r e s e n t w o r k , t h e c o n t e n t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s v e r s e w i l l be s e e n t o be o f i n t e r e s t on t h e one hand f o r i t s r e f l e c t i o n , somewhat d i s t o r t e d i n t h e P o s t e l l i a n m i r r o r , o f e a r l y l i b e r a l h u m a n i s t a t t e m p t s a t r e l i g i o u s r e c o n c i l i a t i o n t r a n s f e r r e d t o t h e h i g h l y - c h a r g e d p e r i o d o f r e l i g i o u s t e n s i o n s p r e c e d i n g and d u r i n g t h e r e i g n o f Henry I I I . On t h e o t h e r h a n d , L a B o d e r i e ' s work w i l l be shown t o s u g g e s t one a s p e c t o f a n e w l y - f o r m i n g d e f i n i t i o n o f t h e p o e t ' s r o l e as i n t e r p r e t e r o f s p i r i t u a l and r e l i g i o u s a s p i r a t i o n s , b o t h p e r s o n a l and s o c i a l , o f w h i c h o t h e r a s p e c t s were t o be i l l u s t r a t e d b y Du B a r t a s , 130 by d ' A u b i g n i , by L a C e p p e d e , by Sponde. 48 CHAPTER I I : FOOTNOTES See L a C r o i x du M a i n e , B i b l i o t h e q u e ( P a r i s , 1 5 8 4 ) , p p . 1 3 3 - 1 3 4 ; A n t o i n e Du V e r d i e r , B i b l i o t h e q u e ( L y o n , 1 5 8 5 ) , p p . 5 2 1 - 5 3 2 . L e P . J e a n - P i e r r e N i c e r o n , Memoires ( P a r i s , 1 7 2 7 - 1 7 4 5 ) , X X X V I I I , p . 3 0 3 , s t a t e s : " S i q u e l q u e s A u t h e u r s en o n t f a i t m e n t i o n , ce q u ' i l s o n t d i t n ' e s t q u ' u n e s u i t e de f a u t e s , que nous pouvons r e c t i f i e r p a r ses O u v r a g e s , q u ' i l s n ' a v o i e n t pas v u s . " N i c e r o n c l a r i f i e s n o t a b l y , p p . 3 0 4 - 3 0 5 , t h e d a t e o f L a B o d e r i e ' s b i r t h and h i s p o s i t i o n as i n t e r p r e t e r i n t h e h o u s e h o l d o f t h e Due d ' A l e n c o n . 2 . A d r i e n B a i l l e t , Jugemens des s c a v a n s ( P a r i s , 1 6 8 5 - 1 6 8 6 ) , I I I , 2 0 9 - 2 1 0 ; l e P . J e a n - P i e r r e N i c e r o n , Memoires ( P a r i s , 1 7 2 7 - 1 7 4 5 ) , X X X V I I I , 3 0 3 - 3 0 4 ; J . G . de C h a u f e p i e , Nouveau d i c t i o n n a i r e h i s t o r i q u e e t c r i t i q u e (Amsterdam, L a H a y e , 1 7 5 0 ) , I I , 3 3 - 3 4 ; l ' A b b e G o u j e t , B i b l i o t h e q u e . f r a n c o i s e ( P a r i s , 1 7 5 2 ) , X I I I , 3 9 5 - 4 1 0 ; M e l a n g e s t i r e s d ' u n e g r a n d e b i b l i o t h e q u e ( P a r i s , 1 7 8 0 ) , V I I , G , 3 1 8 - 3 2 0 ; H e c t o r de L a F e r r i e r e - P e r c y , Les L a B o d e r i e ( P a r i s , 1 8 5 7 ) ; F e l i x N e v e , Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e , o r i e n t a l i s t e e t p o e t e ( B r u x e l l e s , 1 8 6 2 ) ; l e P . F r a n c o i s M a r t i n , B i o b i b l i o g r a p h i e normande: A t h e n a e Normanorum ( C a e n , 1 9 0 1 ) , I and I I , f a s c . 1 , 4 1 5 - 4 2 7 ; P i e r r e F . L e l i e v r e , "Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e , p o e t e c h r e t i e n , " i n E c o l e N a t i o n a l e des C h a r t e s , P o s i t i o n s des t h e s e s . . . 1927 ( P a r i s : P i c a r d , 1 9 2 7 ) , p p . 7 2 - 7 7 . (The m a n u s c r i p t f o r t h e a b o v e - m e n t i o n e d t h e s i s i s n o t a v a i l a b l e . ) 3 L ' E s o t e r i s m e de Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e , E t u d e s de p h i l o l o g i e e t d ' h i s t o i r e , X ( G e n e v e : D r o z , 1 9 6 9 ) . 4 N i c e r o n , M e m o i r e s , p . 3 0 4 . The y e a r o f h i s b i r t h i s c a l c u l a t e d f r o m t h e i n s c r i p t i o n a c c o m p a n y i n g h i s p o r t r a i t i n t h e E n c y c l i e , he b e i n g " i n h i s t h i r t i e t h y e a r " i n 1 5 7 1 , d a t e o f i t s p u b l i c a t i o n . The day o f h i s b i r t h i s a f f i r m e d as " 1 ' a v a n t - j o u r de s a i n c t L a u r e n s " i n L a B o d e r i e ' s D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s p o e ' t i q u e s ( P a r i s , 1 5 8 2 ) , f o l . 6 2 r . ~* S e c r e t , E s o t £ r i s m e , p . 5 . N i c e r o n , M e m o i r e s , p . 3 1 4 , m e n t i o n s o n l y t h r e e o t h e r b r o t h e r s . See " E p i s t r e en f a v e u r d ' u n amy de l ' a u t e u r , " D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 103: " J e l a i s s e Caen p o u r v o i r e t P a r i s e t L y o n / E t l e Mascon v o i s i n . " No r e c o r d r e m a i n s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s h a v i n g v i s i t e d e i t h e r o f t h e s e p l a c e s . As f o r h i s y e a r s i n C a e n , we have o n l y some s u g g e s t i o n s f r o m h i s own w o r k s . The f i r s t i s w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o h i s s t u d i e s , i n h i s E n c y c l i e des s e c r e t s de 1 ' e t e r n i t e " ( A n v e r s , 1 5 7 1 ) , p . 317: 49 L e s p o e t e s a l l e c h a n s o n t u s § mon e n f a n c e , E t l a mathematique a eu 1 ' a d o l e s c e n c e ; De l a f i l o s o f i e ay s e n t i d e v a n c e r L ' a g e q u i v i e n t a p r e s ; p u i s l e s l a n g u e s d i v e r s e s L a j u n e s s e r e s t a n t o n t comble' de t r a v e r s e s . The s e c o n d p a s s a g e i n d i c a t e s h i s r e a c t i o n t o t e a c h e r s i n f l u e n c e d p r e s u m a b l y by Paduan r a t i o n a l i s m ( E n c y c l i e , p . 3 ) : " I I y a p l u s de q u i n z e ans p a s s e s [ c a . 1555 when L a B o d e r i e was a p p r o x i m a t e l y f i f t e e n y e a r s o l d ] , q u ' a mon g r a n d r e g r e t j ' a y e s t § f a i t c e r t a i n , que s o u s s e m b l a n c e humaine i l se t r o u v o i t de t e l s m o n s t r u e u x e s p r i t s , q u i o s o y e n t p l e i n e m e n t d e n i e r e t D i e u e t s a p r o v i d e n c e , e t t e n o y e n t p o u r r e s o l u e n t r e eux que t o u t e s c h o s e s a l l o y e n t a l ' a v e n t u r e . " S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 8 , c o n f i r m s t h a t : " M a l h e u r e u s e m e n t l e s p r e c i e u s e s e t u d e s de P r e n t o u t t a n t s u r 1 ' U n i v e r s i t y de Caen que s u r l a RSforme en N o r m a n d i e , ne p e r m e t t e n t pas de s i t u e r m i e u x L a B o d e r i e a c e t t e 6 p o q u e . " ^ L a B o d e r i e ' s d e d i c a t i o n t o H e n r y I I I o f t h e 1584 e d i t i o n o f h i s New Testament t r a n s l a t i o n d e s c r i b e s h i s r e m a r k a b l e v o c a t i o n f o r t h e s t u d y o f S y r i a c , and c o n f i r m s h i s a t t e n d a n c e a t t h e r o y a l T r i l i n g u a l C o l l e g e ( c i t e d i n S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 9 - 1 0 ) : " L a n a t u r e m ' e n g e n d r a sous q u e l q u e a s t r e f a v o r a b l e p o u r d e v e l o p p e r 1 ' e t u d e de c e t t e l a n g u e s a c r o s a i n t e . J ' o s e r a i d i r e de moi sans f o r f a n t e r i e que p o u r l ' a p p r e n d r e j e n ' a i eu a u c u n p r c S c e p t e u r , pas meme p o u r en t r o u v e r 1 ' a l p h a b e t e t l ' £ p e l e r . J e f u s , comme ne c r a i g n i t pas de l e d i r e G u i l l a u m e Bud£, p o u r s e s E t u d e s g r e c q u e s , a u t o d i d a c t e e t t h c S o d i d a c t e . En e f f e t , quand a P a r i s j ' e u s consacrei q u e l q u e s m o i s a 1'cStude de l ' h e b r e u s o u s vos l e c t e u r s r o y a u x , j e me mis a u s s i t o t a £ t u d i e r l e s r u d i m e n t s de l a l a n g u e s y r i a q u e . J e ne f i s a l o r s q u ' a p p r e n d r e a e p e l e r 1 ' a l p h a b e t e t a en t r a c e r l e s c a r a c t e r e s . I I n ' e x i s t a i t a l o r s n i grammaire n i d i c t i o n n a i r e . Ce n ' e s t q u ' e n s u i t e que j e me m i s a r e c o p i e r e t a t r a d u i r e l e Nouveau Testament s y r i a q u e p u b l i e a V i e n n e . E n c o r e que l a d i f f i c u l t e d e p a s s a t mes p r o p r e s f o r c e s , j e pus r ^ u s s i r , avec l ' a i d e de l a g r a c e d i v i n e . " 8 S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 1 7 - 2 6 . 9 D i c t i o n a r i u m s y r o - c h a l d a i c u m ( A n t v e r p i a e , 1 5 7 2 ) . B i b l i a s a c r a p o l y g l o t t a , H e b r a i c e , C h a l d a i c e , G r a e c e , e t L a t i n e ( A n t w e r p , 1 5 6 9 - 1 5 7 2 ) , V . C f . B a i l l e t , Jugemens des s c a v a n s , I I I , 209: " G u i d o F a b e r , a l i a s , F a b r i c i u s B o d e r i a n u s , mort en 1598; N i c o l F a b e r , a l i a s , F a b r i c i u s B o d e r , s o n f r e r e . Ces deux f r e r e s avec A n d r e M a s i u s e t q u e l q u e s a u t r e s o n t r e n d u a 1 ' E g l i s e e t aux L e t t r e s des s e r v i c e s s i g n a l e z dans 1 ' e d i t i o n de l a P o l y g l o t t e d ' A n v e r s q u ' A r i a s Montanus c o n d u i s o i t chez P l a n t i n . M a i s Guy s ' e s t r e n d u p l u s c e l e b r e que N i c o l a s . M o n s i e u r B r o c h a r t e t B u x t o r f l e r e c o n n o i s s e n t p o u r un t r e s h a b i l e homme dans l e s l a n g u e s H e b r a i q u e , S y r i a q u e , e t C h a l d a i q u e , e t q u i n ' a v o i t p r e s q u e pas s o n s e m b l a b l e a l o r s p o u r s o n e x a c t i t u d e 50 e t s o n h a b i l e t e s u r t o u t dans l a l a n g u e S y r l a q u e ou i l a v o l t f a i t de f o r t e s h a b i t u d e s p a r de l o n g u e s E t u d e s . " ^ S e c r e t , E s o t 6 r i s m e , p . 1 9 , q u o t e s L a B o d e r i e ' s d e d i c a t i o n i n 1571 t o P h i l i p I I o f h i s S y r i a c New T e s t a m e n t : " C ' e s t en 1567 [ s i c ] , i l y a t r o i s a n s , que j ' a c h e v a i de t r a n s c r i r e l e s c a r a c t e r e s s y r i a q u e s en h e b r a i q u e s , e t l a t r a d u c t i o n du t e s t e s y r i a q u e en l a t i n . Ce f u t au p r i x d ' u n t r a v a i l s i e p u i s a n t que p a r deux f o i s j ' e n f i s m a l a d i e a m o u r i r . M a i s a v e c l a g r a c e e t l e s e c o u r s de D i e u j ' e n v i n s a b o u t en d i x h u i t m o i s , s o i t a F a l a i s e en Normandie ou j e s u i s n £ , s o i t a P a r i s . " C f . a l s o L a B o d e r i e ' s " C o m p l a i n t e a D i e u , f a i t e p a r l ' A u t h e u r e s t a n t malade en A n v e r s , l ' a n 1 5 7 1 , " E n c y c l i e , p p . 3 0 1 - 3 0 5 . ^ " E l e g i e : A l a B o d e r i e . . . , " D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 6 4 r - 6 5 V : A mes despens j ' e n t r e p r i n s ce voyage [ a A n v e r s ] , J ' y despendy e t ma p e i n e e t mon age Avec mon f r e r e , e t mes l a b e u r s donne1 Sans e s t r e en r i e n p o u r c e l a g u e r d o n n C . J e ne me p l a i n s , e t d ' h o n n e u r m ' e n d i s p e n s e , Que de P l a n t i n j e n ' a y eu recompense De mes t r a v a u x , s o n c u e u r e n t i e r e t bon P a r moy congneu m ' e s t un ample g u e r d o n . J e ne v e u x p o i n t q u ' a u c u n p o u r moy se f a s c h e , M a i s j e veux b i e n que l ' a g e a d v e n i r s c a c h e Que j e n ' a y eu de P r i n c e s ny de Roys I c y ny l a , de mes l a b e u r s l e s d r o i c t s . M a i s p o u r c e l a s i ne me v e u x - j e f e i n d r e Tant que v i v r a y d ' i l l u s t r e r e t de p e i n d r e L ' a n t i q u e h o n n e u r du nom de D i e u s a c r e , N ' e n a t t e n d a n t des hommes g r a c e ou g r § . See f o r example C h a u f e p i § , Nouveau d i c t i o n n a i r e h i s t o r i q u e e t c r i t i q u e , p . 3 3 , n . B : " L e s Savans o n t p a r l C g C n C r a l e m e n t d ' u n e m a n i e r e a v a n t a g e u s e de ces Ouvrages e t de l e u r A u t e u r : A r i u s Montanus l u i a t t r i b u e une grande c o n n o i s s a n c e de l ' H C b r e u e t s u r - t o u t du S y r i a q u e , H e b r a i c i i d i o m a t i s p e r i t i s s i m u m a t q u e adeo S y r i a c a e L i n g u a e i n s i g n i c o g n i t i o n e o r n a t u m . B u x t o r f dans une L e t t r e a U t e n b o g a r t du 15 M a r s 1 6 1 0 , en p a r l e comme d ' u n Grand-homme, q u a n t u s v i r I d i t - i l , e t B o c h a r t a s s u r e q u ' i l a eu peu d ' C g a u x en ce g e n r e de L i t t S r a t u r e , V i r q u i i n h i s L i t e r i s paucos h a b u i t a e q u a l e s . " G o u j e t , B i b l i o t h e q u e f r a m b o i s e , X I I I , 4 0 1 , a d d s : "On a s s u r e que l e Pape P i e I V , i n f o r m C du t r a v a i l de Guy de l a B o d e r i e , v o u l u t l ' a t t i r e r a Rome dans l e d e s s e i n de 1 ' C l e v e r au C a r d i n a l a t ; m a i s q u ' i l ne p u t v a i n c r e s u r c e l a l a m o d e s t i e de l ' A u t e u r . " L ' E n c y c l i e des s e c r e t s de l ' e t e r n i t e ( A n v e r s , 1 5 7 1 ) . 51 14 S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 5 1 . 1 5 I b i d . , p . 5 3 . ^ T r a i c t e " du nouveau c o m e t e , e t du l i e u ou i l s se f o n t , e t comme i l se v e r r a p a r l e s P a r a l l a x e s combien i l s s o n t l o i n g de l a t e r r e , e t du p r o n o s t i c d ' i c e l u y . Compose" p r e m i e r e m e n t en E s p a g n o l , p a r M . Hieronyme Mugnoz, P r o f e s s e u r o r d i n a i r e de l a l a n g u e H e b r a i q u e e t des M a t h e m a t i q u e s , en 1 ' u n i v e r s i t y de V a l e n c e . E t d e p u i s t r a d u i c t en F r a n c o y s p a r Guy l e F e v r e de l a B o d e r i e . P l u s un C a n t i q u e s u r l a d i c t e E s t o i l l e ou A p p a r e n c e l u m i n e u s e ( P a r i s , 1 5 7 4 ) . C o n f u s i o n de l a s e c t e de Muhamed. L i v r e p r e m i e r e m e n t compose' en l a n g u e E s p a g n o l e p a r J e h a n A n d r e , j a d i s More e t A l f a q u i , n a t i f de l a Cite" de S c i a t i v i a , e t d e p u i s f a i c t C h r e s t i e n e t P r e s t r e : e t tourne" d ' l t a l i e n en F r a n c o i s . P a r Guy l e F e v r e de l a B o d e r i e ( P a r i s , 1 5 7 4 ) . 18 S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 6 9 . 19 I b i d . , p . 7 3 . 20 F r e n c h Academies o f t h e S i x t e e n t h C e n t u r y ( L o n d o n : Warburg I n s t i t u t e , 1 9 4 7 ) , p p . 4 3 , 5 6 . 21', D i s c o u r s de l ' h o n n e s t e amour s u r l e Banquet de P l a t o n , p a r M a r s i l e F i c i n . . . . T r a d u i c t de T o s c a n en F r a n c o i s p a r Guy l e F e v r e de l a B o d e r i e ( P a r i s , 1 5 7 8 ) . 22 De l a r e l i g i o n c h r g t i e n n e , p a r M a r s i l e F i c i n , avec L a Harangue de l a d i g n i t e " de l ' h o m m e , p a r J e a n P i c u s , t r a d u i c t p a r Guy l e F e v r e de l a B o d e r i e ( P a r i s , 1 5 7 8 ) . 23'? L ' H a r m o n i e du monde, p a r F r a n c o i s G e o r g e , t r a d u i c t e t i l l u s t r e p a r Guy l e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ( P a r i s , 1 5 7 8 ) . 24 Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , c a n t i q u e s s p i r i f u e l s e t a u t r e s m e s l a n g e s p o g t i q u e s ( P a r i s , 1 5 7 8 ) . 25 L a G a l l i a d e , ou De l a r e v o l u t i o n des a r t s e t s c i e n c e s ( P a r i s , 1 5 7 8 ) . De l a n a t u r e des d i e u x ( P a r i s , 1 5 8 1 ) . 52 27 P i e r r e H . J . B . C h a m p i o n , L a G a l e r i e des r o i s ( P a r i s : G r a s s e t , 1 9 3 4 ) , p p . 1 7 5 - 1 7 6 . 28 L e s T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e . . . a v e c une A p o l o g i e p o u r l a medecine e t a s t r o l o g i e . L e t o u t compose p r e m i e r e m e n t en L a t i n p a r M a r s i l e F i c i n . . . e t t r a d u i t en F r a n c o i s p a r Guy l e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ( P a r i s , 1 5 8 1 ) . 29 D i v e r s e s meslanges p o e ' t i q u e s ( P a r i s , 1 5 8 2 ) . 30 Novum J e s u C h r i s t i Testamentum, ex v u l g a t a e d i t i o n e e t t r a n s l a t i o n e e x s y r i a c o . . . . ( P a r i s i i s , 1 5 8 4 ) . 31 S e c r e t , E s d t e r i s m e , p . 1 6 2 , n . 233. 32 C f . H e n r i B u s s o n , L e R a t i o n a l i s m e dans l a l i t t e r a t u r e f r a n c a i s e de l a R e n a i s s a n c e , 1 5 3 3 - 1 6 0 1 , r e v . e d . ( P a r i s : V r i n , 1 9 5 7 ) , p p . 5 1 6 - 5 1 7 : " I I e s t b i e n d i f f i c i l e d e j a — a p r e s 1550—de c l a s s e r l e s h e r e t i q u e s . . . I I p a r a i t c e r t a i n c e p e n d a n t q u ' i l y a v a i t des a t h e e s ou t o u t au moins des d e i s t e s b i e n d e c i d e s en a s s e z g r a n d nombre en 1 5 6 0 . A p a r t i r de c e t t e d a t e , en e f f e t , l e s a p o l o g i s t e s de l a n g u e f r a n c a i s e . . . d e n o n c e n t l e u r e x i s t e n c e e t a u s s i r e s e r v e n t dans l e u r s l i v r e s p l u s i e u r s c h a p i t r e s p o u r d e m o n t r e r 1 ' e x i s t e n c e de D i e u . Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e , q u i c o n s a c r a s a v i e a l e s r e f u t e r , en a meme connu a v a n t 1 5 6 0 . " 33' See E . D e f r a n c e , C a t h e r i n e de M e d i c i s , ses a s t r o l o g u e s e t s e s m a g i c i e n s e n v o u t e u r s . Documents i n e d i t s s u r l a d i p l o m a t i c ' e t l e s s c i e n c e s o c c u l t e s du X V l ' ^ s i e c l e ( P a r i s , 1 9 1 1 ) . 3 4- F o r a t h o r o u g h s t u d y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s d e b t t o P o s t e l see S e c r e t , E s o t g r i s m e , p a s s i m . 35 D . P . W a l k e r , "The P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a i n F r a n c e , " J o u r n a l o f t h e Warburg and C o u r t a u l d I n s t i t u t e s , X V I I ( 1 9 5 4 ) , p . 2 2 7 , comments: " B u t L a B o d e r i e , t h o u g h he i s , I t h i n k , a s i g n i f i c a n t example o f t h e l a t e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e a t t i t u d e t o t h e s e q u e s t i o n s , i s by no means a n o r m a l o n e . " F o r L a B o d e r i e ' s p l a c e i n t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e s e r i o u s l y r i c i s m o f t h e end o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e , see M a r c e l Raymond, L ' I n f l u e n c e de R o n s a r d s u r l a p o g s i e f r a n c a i s e , 1 5 5 0 - 1 5 8 5 , r e v . e d . , T r a v a u x d'Humanisme e t R e n a i s s a n c e , 73 (Geneve: D r o z , 1 9 6 5 ) , p p . 2 6 6 - 2 6 7 . 36 See S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 2 7 . 53 37 I b i d . , p . 128. See a l s o F r a n c o i s S e c r e t , " G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l e t l e s c o u r a n t s p r o p h c l t i q u e s de l a R e n a i s s a n c e , " S t u d i f r a n c e s i , I I I ( 1 9 5 7 ) , p p . 3 7 5 - 3 9 5 . See above n . 3 6 . 39 S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 7 . See a l s o G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l , Le T h r e s o r des p r o p h e t i e s de l ' u n i v e r s , e d . F . S e c r e t ( L a H a y e : M a r t i n u s N i j h o f f , 1 9 6 6 ) . 40 See S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 2 7 - 1 2 8 . 41 F o r t h e C i s t e r c i a n m y s t i c J o a c h i m o f F i o r e ( F l o r i s ) , 1130-1201 o r 1 2 0 2 , see New C a t h o l i c E n c y c l o p e d i a (New Y o r k : M c G r a w - H i l l , 1 9 6 7 ) , V I I , p p . 9 9 0 - 9 9 1 , w h i c h comments: " J o a c h i m ' s e n t i r e d o c t r i n e i s r e d u c i b l e t o h i s t e a c h i n g on the T r i n i t y and on h i s t o r y . . . . The same t r i t h e i s t i c t e n d e n c y a p p e a r e d i n J o a c h i m ' s d e v e l o p m e n t a l t h e o l o g y o f h i s t o r y , w h i c h moves f r o m t h e Age o f t h e F a t h e r ( O l d Testament) . . . t o t h e Age o f t h e Son (New Testament) . . . t o t h e Age o f t h e H o l y S p i r i t , due t o b e g i n a b o u t 1260 . . . . T h i s d o c t r i n e was t a k e n up by t h e S p i r i t u a l F r a n c i s c a n s , i . e . , t h e J o a c h i m i t e s , m i x e d w i t h i d e a s f r o m t h e A p o c r y p h a , and c a r r i e d f a r b e y o n d J o a c h i m ' s i n t e n t i o n s . " 42 See S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 6 2 . 43 See b e l o w p p . 162 f f . C f . a l s o F r a n c o i s S e c r e t , " L ' H u m a n i s m e f l o r e n t i n , v u p a r un K a b b a l i s t e c h r e t i e n , Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e , " R i n a s c i m e n t o , I ( 1 9 5 4 ) , p p . 1 0 5 - 1 1 2 . 44 " E . G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s S y m b o l i c a e , t h e V i s u a l Image i n N e o - P l a t o n i s t T h o u g h t , " J o u r n a l o f t h e Warburg and C o u r t a u l d I n s t i t u t e s , X I ( 1 9 4 8 ) , p p . 1 6 7 - 1 6 8 . 45 I b i d . , p . 1 6 7 . 46 D . P . W a l k e r , " L e Chant O r p h i q u e de M a r s i l e F i c i n , " i n M u s i q u e e t p o e s i e au X V I s i e c l e ( P a r i s : C e n t r e N a t i o n a l de R e c h e r c h e S c i e n t i f i q u e , 1 9 5 4 ) , p p . 1 7 - 3 3 . 47 D . P . W a l k e r , "Orpheus the T h e o l o g i a n and R e n a i s s a n c e P l a t o n i s t s , " J o u r n a l o f t h e Warburg and C o u r t a u l d I n s t i t u t e s , X V I ( 1 9 5 3 ) , p p . 100-120, 48 C f . i b i d . , p p . 1 0 0 - 1 0 1 : J e a n R i c h e r , N e r v a l , e x p e r i e n c e e t c r e a t i o n ( P a r i s : H a c h e t t e , 1 9 6 3 ) , p . 5 3 4 , 54 n o t e s t h a t O r p h e u s ' l y r e , as a N e o - P l a t o n i s t i m a g e , a l l u d e d t o t h e harmony o f t h e s p h e r e s a n d , more g e n e r a l l y , t o c o s m i c h a r m o n y . F u r t h e r m o r e , f r o m t h e C h r i s t i a n p o i n t o f v i e w , a d o p t e d by t h e C h u r c h F a t h e r s and by D a n t e , Orpheus i s t h e image o f t h e W o r d . 49 C f . Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 2 3 - 2 5 , 3 6 - 4 2 , f o r t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s . " F o r t h e r o l e s o f Orpheus and D a v i d i n R e n a i s s a n c e w r i t i n g s on m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s , " see W a l k e r , " C h a n t O r p h i q u e , " p p . 2 2 , 2 4 . W a l k e r , " O r p h e u s t h e T h e o l o g i a n , " p . 1 0 , n . 2 , n o t e s many j u x t a p o s i t i o n s o f Orpheus and D a v i d f r o m Clement o f A l e x a n d r i a t o M a r o t . 51 F o r t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f Orpheus as e s o t e r i c t h e o l o g i a n and as d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d s i n g e r , see W a l k e r , "Orpheus t h e T h e o l o g i a n , " p p . 1 0 0 - 1 2 0 . F o r O r p h e u s ' i m p o r t a n c e as t h e p r i m a r y m y t h i c a l f i g u r e , s u p e r s e d i n g H e r c u l e s and e v e n Prometheus as p r o t o t y p e o f t h e i d e a l man as w e l l as o f t h e i d e a l a r t i s t , see A n d r e C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t (Geneve: D r o z , 1 9 5 4 ) , p p . 1 7 3 - 1 7 6 . 52 W a l k e r , " O r p h e u s t h e T h e o l o g i a n , " p . 1 1 9 , s t a t e s : "The O r p h i c a r e m a i n , however c h i e f l y i m p o r t a n t , n o t b e c a u s e o f t h e i r c o n t e n t o r c o n t e x t , b u t b e c a u s e t h e y r e i n f o r c e t h e b e l i e f i n , and f o r m p a r t o f , a p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a w h i c h c o n f i r m s t h e c o m p a t i b i l i t y o f P l a t o n i s m w i t h C h r i s t i a n i t y . " 53 W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p p . 2 2 6 - 2 2 7 , comments t h a t t h e s e O r p h i c f r a g m e n t s were " r e g u l a r l y u s e d by R e n a i s s a n c e P l a t o n i s t s t o d e m o n s t r a t e t h a t Orpheus was a m o n o t h e i s t and T r i n i t a r i a n . . . " See W a l k e r , " O r p h e u s t h e T h e o l o g i a n , " p p . 1 0 5 - 1 0 6 , f o r an e x p l a n a t i o n o f t h e l i n k i n g o f Moses and M u s a e u s , c o n s i d e r e d sometimes t h e d i s c i p l e and sometimes t h e t e a c h e r o f O r p h e u s . 5 5 C f . P a u l i n e M . S m i t h , The A n t i - C o u r t i e r T r e n d i n S i x t e e n t h C e n t u r y F r e n c h L i t e r a t u r e , T r a v a u x d'Humanisme e t R e n a i s s a n c e , 84 (Geneve: D r o z , 1 9 6 6 ) , p p . 1 5 2 - 2 1 8 . 5 6 L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t i o n o f t h e a r t i s t and p o e t was v e r y s t r o n g l y i n f l u e n c e d by h i s r e a d i n g o f the N e o - P l a t o n i s t s . F o r a d i s c u s s i o n o f F i c i n o ' s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f P l a t o ' s e v a l u a t i o n o f t h e a r t i s t , see C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 6 4 - 7 0 . Raymond, I n f l u e n c e de R o n s a r d , p . 2 7 3 , s t a t e s : " [ L a B o d e r i e ] t e n t a de f o n d e r , a v a n t Du B a r t a s , l e g r a n d l y r i s m e c h r £ t i e n . " 55 58 See b e l o w p . 198 f f . 59 L a B o d e r i e i s o f c o u r s e h e r e u s i n g a n o t h e r anagram o f h i s name: G u i Le F e v r e = FIGURE E L U E . C f . E n c y c l i e , p . 3 0 1 : " S i l a Rondeur e s t ma FIGURE E L U E . " F o r F i c i n o ' s c o n c e p t o f t h e a e s t h e t i c p e r f e c t i o n o f u n i v e r s a l c r e a t i o n i n " 1 ' i m a g e du c e r c l e i n f i n i q u i e s t l e p l u s Eminent des s y m b o l e s de l a d i v i n i t e , " see C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t 1 ' a r t , p . 5 8 . C f . a l s o Georges P o u l e t , L e s Metamorphoses du c e r c l e ( P a r i s : P l o n , 1 9 6 1 ) , p p . x x - x x i i i . 60 L a B o d e r i e s p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h t h e p o e t s s p i r i t u a l detachment p r e r e q u i s i t e t o an i n t i m a t e k n o w l e d g e o f t h e D i v i n i t y , " p o u r en soy L ' U N c o m p r e n d r e , " r e c a l l s F i c i n o ' s p r e c e p t s f o r a l i b e r a t i o n o f the s o u l so t h a t i t may f i n d i t s t r u e harmony w i t h t h e u n i v e r s e . F o r a d i s c u s s i o n o f t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p o f t h i s c o n c e p t t o N e o - P l a t o n i s t use o f s y m b o l s , see C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 7 1 - 7 9 . 61 C f . C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p . 1 7 3 . 6 2 The H e l l e n i s t i c o r i g i n s o f t h e s o - c a l l e d " a n c i e n t w i s d o m " h a v e been p o i n t e d o u t by s e v e r a l s c h o l a r s . See f o r example Edgar W i n d , Pagan m y s t e r i e s i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e , r e v . e d . (New Y o r k , B a r n e s and N o b l e , 1968 [ c l 9 6 7 ] ) , p p . 2 7 - 2 8 , and W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p . 2 0 9 . 63 P . 0 . K r i s t e l l e r , The P h i l o s o p h y o f M a r s i l i o F i c i n o (New Y o r k : C o l u m b i a U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1 9 4 3 ) , p p . 2 0 - 2 2 . 6 4 , ,' See b e l o w p . 186. 65 F o r an a n a l y s i s o f F i c i n o s p o s i t i o n see K r i s t e l l e r , P h i l o s o p h y , p p . 2 5 - 2 9 . W i t h r e g a r d t o t h e g e n e r a l R e n a i s s a n c e a t t i t u d e t o r e l i g i o u s h i s t o r y , W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p . 2 1 0 , d e f i n e s as " u n d o u b t e d l y t h e p r e d o m i n a n t v i e w " t h a t w h i c h h e l d " t h a t t h e o n l y o r m a i n p r e - C h r i s t i a n r e v e l a t i o n was t h e J e w i s h o n e ; b u t t h a t t h i s f i l t e r e d t h r o u g h t o t h e G e n t i l e s , t h e u s u a l c h a n n e l o f c o m m u n i c a t i o n b e i n g E g y p t , where Moses had t a u g h t t h e p r i e s t s o r l e f t b o o k s . " 66 F o r P i c o s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , e s p e c i a l l y w i t h r e g a r d t o h i s a t t i t u d e t o i m a g e r y as t h e v e i l e d t r u t h o f " p o e t i c t h e o l o g y , " see W i n d , Pagan M y s t e r i e s , p p . 2 4 - 3 0 . F o r h i s use o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a i n g e n e r a l , and e s p e c i a l l y o f t h e K a b b a l a h , see t h e f o l l o w i n g : E u g e n i o A n a n g i n e , G . P i c o d e l l a M i r a n d o l a : S i n c r e t e s i m o r e l i g i o s o - f i l o s o f i c o , 1463-1494 ( B a r i , 1 9 3 7 ) ; E u g e n i o G a r i n , G i o v a n n i P i c o d e l l a M i r a n d o l a , v i t a e d o t t r i n a ( F i r e n z e : L e M o n n i e r , 1 9 3 7 ) , p p . 137 f f ; F r a n c o i s S e c r e t , " P i c o d e l l a M i r a n d o l a e g l i i n i z i d e l l a c a b a l a C h r i s t i a n a , " C o n v i v i u m , XXV nuove s e r i e ( 1 9 5 7 ) , p p . 3 1 - 4 7 . 56 6 7 See f o r example C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 7 1 - 7 9 ; G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s s y m b o l i c a e , " p p . 1 6 9 - 1 9 2 ; D . P . W a l k e r , S p i r i t u a l and Demonic M a g i c f r o m F i c i n o t o C a m p a n e l l a , S t u d i e s o f t h e Warburg I n s t i t u t e , 22 ( L o n d o n : Warburg I n s t i t u t e , 1958; N e n d e l n / L i c h t e n s t e i n : K l a u s R e p r i n t , 1 9 6 9 ) . 6 8 W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p p . 2 0 6 - 2 0 7 . 69 l b i d . , p p . 204, 2 2 0 . The p r e s e n t i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a i s b a s e d l a r g e l y on t h i s a n a l y s i s by W a l k e r o f i t s i m p o r t a n c e i n F r a n c e . ^ W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p p . 2 0 4 - 2 0 6 , c i t e s L e f e v r e d ' E t a p l e s , P o n t u s de T y a r d , D u p l e s s i s - M o r n a y and e s p e c i a l l y S y m p h o r i e n Champier and Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e as h a v i n g u s e d t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a . He m e n t i o n s a l s o o t h e r w r i t e r s as h a v i n g b e e n r e c e p t i v e t o t h i s " a n c i e n t w i s d o m " : Amaury B o u c h a r d , L o u i s L e C a r o n , L o u i s Le R o y , F r a n c o i s de F o i x , C h a r l e s de B o u r g u e v i l l e , Georges P a c a r d , G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l , M i c h a e l S e r v e t u s , as w e l l as M a r g u e r i t e de N a v a r r e , P i e r r e de P a s c h a l , B a r t o l o m e o D e l b e n e , F r a n c o i s H e b e r t , Guy de B r u S s , P i e r r e de L o s t a l and J e a n B o d i n . F o r a s t u d y o f R a b e l a i s ' c o n t i n u a l use o f t h i s t r a d i t i o n , see G . M a l l a r y M a s t e r s , R a b e l a i s i a n D i a l e c t i c and t h e P l a t o n i c - H e r m e t i c t r a d i t i o n ( A l b a n y , N . Y . : S t a t e U n i v e r s i t y o f N . Y . P r e s s , 1 9 6 9 ) . ^ C f . W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p . 204: "Many C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g i s t s f r o m the e a r l i e s t F a t h e r s o n w a r d s , have had t h e p r a c t i c e o f c i t i n g t e x t s f r o m p r e - C h r i s t i a n w r i t e r s , p r i s c i t h e o l o g i , o f s u p p o s e d l y g r e a t a n t i q u i t y , i n o r d e r t o show t h e c o n f o r m i t y w i t h C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e . These t e x t s — O r p h i c a , H e r m e t i c a , O r a c u l a C h a l d a i c a , f r a g m e n t s f r o m p r e - S o c r a t i c G r e e k p h i l o s o p h e r s , S i b y l l i n e p r o p h e c i e s — a p p e a r i n company w i t h P l a t o , whose r e l i g i o u s o p i n i o n s a r e t h o u g h t t o d e r i v e f r o m them and f r o m t h e J e w i s h S c r i p t u r e s . T h i s p r a c t i c e i n c r e a s e d g r e a t l y i n t h e f i f t e e n t h and s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r i e s , p a r t l y b e c a u s e o f t h e r e v i v a l o f P l a t o n i s m and t h e d e s i r e t o i n t e g r a t e i t i n t o C h r i s t i a n i t y , and p a r t l y b e c a u s e many more s u c h t e x t s became a v a i l a b l e . " 72 P . 0 . K r i s t e l l e r , " A u g u s t i n e and t h e R e n a i s s a n c e , " I n t e r n a t i o n a l S c i e n c e , I ( 1 9 4 1 ) , p p . 7 f f . 73 R. M a r c e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n ( P a r i s : L e s B e l l e s L e t t r e s , 1 9 5 9 ) , p p . 6 0 3 , 6 1 2 . W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p . 2 5 8 , s t a t e s : " I t was t h e s e e a r l y Greek F a t h e r s [ J u s t i n , Clement and E p i p h a n u s ] , t o g e t h e r w i t h 57 E u s e b i u s , C y r i l and L a c t a n t i u s , w r i t i n g on t h e same l i n e s , who were t h e c h i e f s t o r e h o u s e s o f t h e t e x t s o f t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i , and t h e m a i n models f o r t h e s y n c r e t i z i n g u s e o f t h e s e t e x t s . I t i s , t h e r e f o r e , n o t s u r p r i s i n g t o f i n d p o s t - t r i d e n t i n e C a t h o l i c s , s u c h as L a B o d e r i e , De F o i x and Le R o y , a c c e p t i n g and u s i n g the p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a . " 75 76 77 I b i d . , p . 2 5 2 . C f . i b i d . , p p . 255-256. See f o r example M . M e r s e n n e , Q u a e s t i o n e s i n Genesim ( P a r i s , 1 6 2 3 ) , c o l s . 1 8 5 4 - 1 8 7 7 . 7 8 W a l k e r , " O r p h e u s t h e T h e o l o g i a n , " p . 1 0 5 , c i t e s a t y p i c a l l i s t o f a n c i e n t t h i n k e r s , e x p l a i n i n g t h e b e l i e f i n t h e i r common d e b t t o t h e M o s a i c t r a d i t i o n t r a n s m i t t e d t h r o u g h E g y p t . See a l s o K r i s t e l l e r , P h i l o s o p h y , p . 1 5 , f o r an e x p l a n a t i o n o f F i c i n o ' s d e b t t o P l e t h o i n h i s d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e i d e a o f an a n c i e n t t r a d i t i o n o f a pagan t h e o l o g y l e a d i n g t o P l a t o . C f . a l s o M a r c e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n , p p . 5 8 8 - 5 8 9 . 79 See M a r c e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n , p . 6 1 4 , f o r an a n a l y s i s o f t h e c o n t i n u i t y o f a t r a d i t i o n f r o m Orpheus t h r o u g h Aglaophemus t o P y t h a g o r a s and t h u s t o P l a t o . 80 W a l k e r , " C h a n t O r p h i q u e , " p . 22 and W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p p . 1 0 1 - 1 0 3 . 81 The f o l l o w i n g o u t l i n e o f t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e O r p h i c a i s b a s e d on W a l k e r , " O r p h e u s t h e T h e o l o g i a n , " p p . 1 0 3 - 1 0 7 , and W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p p . 2 0 7 - 2 0 9 . 82 See b e l o w p . 199 f f . 83 The most c o m p l e t e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e H e r m e t i c a i s t o be f o u n d i n , A . - J . F e s t u g i e r e , L a R e v e l a t i o n d'Hermes T r i s m e g i s t e , 3^ e d . ( P a r i s : L e c o f f r e , 1 9 5 0 ) , 4 v o l s . , and i n A . D . Knock and A . - J . F e s t u g i e r e , Hermes T r i s m e g i s t e . Corpus h e r m e t i c u m ( P a r i s : L e s B e l l e s L e t t r e s , 1 9 4 5 ) . The f o l l o w i n g s t u d i e s a r e o f i n t e r e s t w i t h r e g a r d t o R e n a i s s a n c e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s o f t h e H e r m e t i c a : J . D a g e n s , " H e r m e t i s m e e t C a b a l e en F r a n c e de L e f e v r e d ' E t a p l e s a B o s s u e t , " Revue de l i t t g r a t u r e c o m p a r e d , XXXV ( 1 9 6 1 ) , p p . 1 - 2 0 ; P . 0 . K r i s t e l l e r , " M a r s i l i o F i c i n o e L o d o v i c o L a z z a r e l l i ; c o n t r i b u t o a l i a d i f f u s i o n e d e l l e i d e e e r m e t i c h e n e l R i n a s c i m e n t o , " i n S t u d i e s i n R e n a i s s a n c e Thought and L e t t e r s (Roma: E d i z i o n i d i S t o r i a e L e t t e r a t u r a , 1 9 5 6 ) , p p . 2 2 1 - 2 5 7 ; H e n r y Weber, 58 " Y a - t - i l une p o £ s i e herme'tique au X V I s i e c l e en F r a n c e ? " C a h l e r s de 1 ' A s s o c i a t i o n I n t e r n a t i o n a l e des E t u d e s F r a n c a i s e s , XV (mars 1 9 6 3 ) , p p . 4 1 - 5 8 ; A . - M . S c h m i d t , " H a u t e s c i e n c e e t p o C s i e , " C a h i e r s d ' H e r m e s , n o . 1 ( 1 9 4 7 ) , p p . 1 0 - 4 9 ; F r a n c e s Y a t e s , G i o r d a n o Bruno and t h e H e r m e t i c T r a d i t i o n ( L o n d o n : R o u t l e d g e and Kegan P a u l , 1 9 6 4 ) , p p . 1 - 1 9 . The f o l l o w i n g o u t l i n e i s i n t e n d e d o n l y t o p r o v i d e a b a c k g r o u n d t o L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f t h e H e r m e t i c a . 84 See above n . 6 2 , and K r i s t e l l e r , " M a r s i l i o F i c i n o e L o d o v i c o L a z z a r e l l i , " p p . 2 2 1 - 2 2 2 . 85 86 87 88. W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p . 2 0 8 . D a g e n s , "Herme"tisme e t C a b a l e , " p . 5, I b i d . , p . 6 . See b e l o w p . 9 2 . See a l s o J . C . L y o n s , " L i t e r a r y E v i d e n c e o f the P r e s t i g e o f t h e B l a c k A r t s i n F r e n c h L i t e r a t u r e o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e , " S t u d i e s i n P h i l o l o g y , X X X I ( 1 9 3 4 ) , p p . 2 2 4 - 2 3 5 . 89 • C f . F e s t u g i e r e , L a R g y g l a t i o n d'Hermes T r i s m C g i s t e , p p . 3 5 9 - 3 6 0 . See b e l o w p p . 194 f f . , f o r t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p o f t h i s s y s t e m w i t h L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t o f c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s . 90 C f . H . L e w y , C h a l d a e a n O r a c l e s and T h e u r g y : M y s t i c i s m , M a g i c and P l a t o n i s m i n t h e L a t e r Roman E m p i r e (Le C a i r e : I n s t i t u t F r a n c a i s d ' A r c h a f i o l o g i e O r i e n t a l e , 1 9 5 6 ) , p . x i i i . 91 Knock and F e s t u g i e r e , C o r p u s h e r m e t i c u m , p . v i i , s t a t e : "Hermfetisme e t O r a c l e s C h a l d a i q u e s o f f r e n t de f r a p p a n t e s r e s s e m b l a n c e s avec m a i n t s e c r i t s du g n o s t i c i s m e c h r C t i e n . Ce phCnomene p a r a i t d u , non pas a un emprunt d i r e c t , mais au f a i t q u ' i l s dependent ensemble d ' u n meme f o n d s i n t e l l e c t u e l e t r e p o n d e n t a des b e s o i n s a n a l o g u e s de l a s e n s i b i l i t e de l ' e p o q u e : d e s i r de c e r t i t u d e e t de r e v e l a t i o n , gout p o u r 1 ' e s o t e r i s m e , p e n c h a n t p o u r l e s a b s t r a c t i o n s , s o u c i de l ' a m e e t de s o n s a l u t , t e n d a n c e a c o n s i d e r e r l e monde p a r r a p p o r t au s o r t de l ' a m e , e t l e s o r t de l ' a m e p a r r a p p o r t au m o n d e . " C f . a l s o L e w y , C h a l d a e a n O r a c l e s , p . 7. L a B o d e r i e ' s p e r s o n a l s p i r i t u a l d i s i l l u s i o n m e n t , as e x p r e s s e d i n t h e E n c y c l i e , p p . 3-4 and e l s e w h e r e , m i g h t be r e l a t e d t o t h e mood o f t h e e a r l y N e o - P l a t o n i s t t i m e as p a r t i a l e x p l a n a t i o n o f h i s t a s t e f o r t h e e s o t e r i c d o c t r i n e s o f t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i . 92 • L e w y , C h a l d a e a n O r a c l e s , p p . x i i i , 6 5 . 59 93 J . B i d e z and F . Comont, L e s Mages h e l l e n i s e s : Z o r o a s t r e , O s t a n e s e t H y s t a s p e d ' a p r e s l a t r a d i t i o n g r e c q u e ( P a r i s : L e s B e l l e s L e t t r e s , 1 9 3 8 ) , p . v i i i . 94 I b i d . , p p . 4 1 - 4 2 . 95 I b i d . , p p . 5 0 - 5 1 . 96 I b i d . , p . 162, 97 See above n . 7 9 . 98 See above n . 9 4 . 99 C f . D a g e n s , "Hermc4tisme e t C a b a l e , " p p . 6 - 7 , C f . V . F . H o p p e r , M e d i e v a l Number S y m b o l i s m : I t s S o u r c e s , M e a n i n g and I n f l u e n c e on Thought and E x p r e s s i o n , C o l u m b i a U n i v e r s i t y S t u d i e s i n E n g l i s h and C o m p a r a t i v e L i t e r a t u r e , 132 (New Y o r k : C o l u m b i a U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1 9 3 8 ) . See a l s o E r n s t C a s s i r e r , An E s s a y on Man ( T o r o n t o , New Y o r k , L o n d o n : Bantam B o o k s , 1970 [ c l 9 4 4 ] ) , p . 2 3 3 . See b e l o w p p . 208 f f . C f . a l s o E . R. C u r t i u s , E u r o p e a n L i t e r a t u r e and t h e L a t i n M i d d l e Ages ( L o n d o n : R o u t l e d g e and Kegan P a u l , 1 9 5 3 ) , p p . 5 0 1 - 5 0 9 , f o r an e x p o s i t i o n o f t h e m e d i e v a l c o n c e p t o f " n u m e r i c a l c o m p o s i t i o n , " e s p e c i a l l y h i s comment on Dante whom L a B o d e r i e had t r a n s l a t e d : " H e r e number i s no l o n g e r an o u t e r f r a m e w o r k , b u t a s y m b o l o f t h e c o s m i c o r d o . " 102 H o p p e r , M e d i e v a l Number S y m b o l i s m , p . 37. 103 See W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p . 2 1 3 . 104 See b e l o w p . 1 5 6 , n . 5 7 . See C . V a s o l i , " T e m i e f o n t i d e l l a t r a d i z i o n e e r m e t i c a i n uno s c r i t t o d i S y m p h o r i e n C h a m p i e r , " i n Umanesimo e e s o t e r i s m o , A t t i d e l V Convegno I n t e r n a z i o n a l e d i S t u d i U m a n i s t i c i ( P a d o v a : Cedam, 1 9 6 0 ) , p p . 2 4 0 - 2 4 2 . V a s o l i e m p h a s i z e s a n a t i o n a l i s t i c s e n t i m e n t g r o w i n g i n F r a n c e f r o m t h e t i m e o f C h a m p i e r ' s p u b l i c a t i o n s i n t h e p e r i o d o f L o u i s X I I ' s s u c c e s s f u l I t a l i a n c a m p a i g n s . The e x a l t a t i o n o f t h e D r u i d s , a c c o r d i n g l y , became " u n tema o l t r e m o d o c a r o a l i a n u o v a s e n s i b i l i t a n a z i o n a l e d e g l i u m a n i s t i f r a n c e s i . " 60 The New C a t h o l i c E n c y c l o p e d i a , X I , 9 4 3 - 9 4 4 , s t a t e s : " P s e u d o - D i o n y s i u s i s t h e name assumed by t h e a u t h o r o f f o u r Greek t r e a t i s e s on l i t u r g i c a l and m y s t i c a l t h e o l o g y t h a t a p p e a r e d a t t h e b e g i n n i n g o f t h e s i x t h c e n t u r y and were f i r s t r e f e r r e d t o by t h e M o n o p h y s i t e t h e o l o g i a n s i n t h e t r a i n o f S e v e r u s o f A n t i o c h . The a u t h o r c l a i m s a p o s t o l i c s a n c t i o n f o r h i s w r i t i n g s by p u b l i s h i n g them as t h e work o f t h e D i o n y s i u s who was b a p t i z e d a f t e r l i s t e n i n g t o a sermon S t . P a u l p r e a c h e d i n t h e A r e o p a g u s o f A t h e n s ( A c t s 1 7 . 3 4 ) . . . . I n t h e W e s t , t h e l e g e n d a r y b i o g r a p h y i d e n t i f y i n g P s e u d o - D i o n y s i u s w i t h b o t h t h e A r e o p a g i t e and t h e p a t r o n o f P a r i s , w h i c h was composed b y t h e Abbot o f H i l d u i n and a t t a c h e d t o t h e L a t i n t r a n s l a t i o n o f h i s w r i t i n g s , s e t t h e t r a d i t i o n t h a t p r e v a i l e d down t o modern t i m e s . . . . Down t o t h e f i r s t decade o f t h e s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y , t h e a u t h o r i t y o f t h e s e w r i t i n g s was u n c h a l l e n g e d by C a t h o l i c and many P r o t e s t a n t t h e o l o g i a n s . " W a l k e r , " P r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , " p . 2 2 0 , e x p l a i n s f u r t h e r : "They have p r e v e n t e d t h e i n c a r n a t i o n f r o m b r e a k i n g h i s t o r y i n t w o , and t h e y t h e m s e l v e s s t a n d i n t h e u n b r o k e n s u c c e s s i o n o f p r i s c i t h e o l o g i w h i c h s t r e t c h e s b a c k , t h r o u g h t h e P a r i s i a n t h e o l o g i a n s , t o D i o n y s i u s - S t . D e n y s , P l a t o , O r p h e u s , Hermes T r i s m e g i s t u s and M o s e s . " 10 8 The p r e s e n t b r i e f a c c o u n t o f t h e use o f t h e K a b b a l a h by R e n a i s s a n c e h u m a n i s t s i s b a s e d l a r g e l y on F r a n c o i s S e c r e t , L e s K a b b a l i s t e s c h r e t i e n s de l a R e n a i s s a n c e ( P a r i s : D u n o d , 1 9 6 4 ) . See i b i d . , p p . v i - v i i , f o r t h e r e a s o n s f o r w h i c h t h e book by J o s e p h L . B l a u , The C h r i s t i a n I n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e C a b a l a i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e (New Y o r k : C o l u m b i a U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1944) s h o u l d be c o n s u l t e d w i t h c a u t i o n . 109 I b i d . , p p . 1 - 2 , 2 9 - 3 0 . 110 . C f . F r a n c o i s S e c r e t , Le Zohar c h e z l e s k a b b a l i s t e s Chretiens de l a R e n a i s s a n c e ( P a r i s : M o u t o n , 1 9 5 8 ) , p p . 1 3 - 1 4 , 1 8 . M . S e c r e t c o n s i d e r s t h e r e v i v a l o f t h e K a b b a l a h t o have b e e n o f g r e a t i m p o r t a n c e i n t h e h i s t o r y o f i d e a s . I t s h o u l d be s t u d i e d n o t as a c u r i o s i t y b u t " d a n s l e c a d r e meme des grands evenements du s i e c l e de l a R e n a i s s a n c e e t de l a R e f o r m e , " b e i n g a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e r e v i v a l n o t o n l y o f l i n g u i s t i c b u t a l s o o f B i b l i c a l s t u d i e s . See G . G . S c h o l e m , On t h e K a b b a l a h and i t s S y m b o l i s m ( L o n d o n : R o u t l e d g e and Kegan P a u l , 1 9 6 5 ) , p . 8 9 , and G . G . S c h o l e m , M a j o r T r e n d s i n J e w i s h M y s t i c i s m ( L o n d o n : Thames and H u d s o n , 1 9 5 5 ) , p . 1 8 . 112 S c h o l e m , M a j o r T r e n d s , p . 2 1 . 61 113 F o r t h e use o f t h e t e r m " C h r i s t i a n K a b b a l i s t s " see S e c r e t , K a b b a l i s t e s c h r C t i e n s , p p . v - x . 114 S c h o l e m , On the K a b b a l a h , p . 8 9 . The Zohar was p u b l i s h e d f i r s t i n I t a l y , i n 1558 by a J e w i s h and i n 1560 by a C h r i s t i a n e d i t o r . See S e c r e t , Z o h a r , p . 2 3 . F o r a d e f i n i t i o n o f s y m b o l i c a l t h o u g h t as " t h e m a i n c o n s t i t u e n t o f t h e [ K a b b a l i s t s ' ] f a i t h and t h e i r m e t h o d " see S c h o l e m , On t h e K a b b a l a h , p p . 9 6 - 9 7 , and S c h o l e m , M a j o r T r e n d s , p p . 2 6 - 2 8 . 116 • >• C f . L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f P i c o ' s Harangue de l a d i g n i t e de l ' h o m m e , p p . 4 3 5 - 4 3 6 : "Ces l i v r e s que j ' a i a c q u i s a p r i x d ' o r , j e l e s a i l u s de f o n d en c o m b l e , avec une a t t e n t i o n s o u t e n u e e t un t r a v a i l s a n s r e l a c h e , e t j ' y a i t r o u v e ( D i e u m ' e s t t e m o i n ) non pas t a n t l a r e l i g i o n de M o i s e que l a r e l i g i o n c h r e t i e n n e : i c i l e m y s t e r e de l a T r i n i t e , l a 1 ' i n c a r n a t i o n du V e r b e , l a e n c o r e l a d i v i n i t e du M e s s i e : j ' y a i l u . . . l a meme chose que ce que nous l i s o n s t o u s l e s j o u r s c h e z P a u l e t D e n y s , c h e z Jerome e t c h e z A u g u s t i n . M a i s , en ce q u i r e g a r d e l a p h i l o s o p h i e , on c r o i r a i t v r a i m e n t e n t e n d r e P y t h a g o r e e t P l a t o n , d o n t l e s p r i n c i p e s s o n t t e l l e m e n t v o i s i n s de l a f o i c h r e t i e n n e . . . . En r e s u m e , i l n ' y a aucun p o i n t de c o n t r o v e r s e e n t r e l e s J u i f s e t n o u s , s u r l e q u e l nous ne p u i s s i o n s l e s c o m b a t t r e e t l e s c o n f o n d r e p a r l e s l i v r e s des c a b a l i s t e s . . . . " P i c o ' s A p o l o g i a f o r t h e s u s p e c t t h e s e s o f h i s C o n c l u s i o n e s i n c l u d e s a j u s t i f i c a t i o n o f h i s famous d e c l a r a t i o n t h a t t h e r e i s no s c i e n c e w h i c h g i v e s us more c e r t a i n t y o f t h e d i v i n i t y o f C h r i s t t h a n m a g i c and t h e K a b b a l a h . He c a l l s t o w i t n e s s E s d r a s , P a u l , O r i g e n , and H i l a i r e , t o w h i c h were added t h e a u t h o r i t y o f S t . Jerome and E u s e b i u s , t h a t God gave t o Moses b o t h a l i t e r a l Law w h i c h was t o be p r e s e r v e d i n w r i t i n g and communicated t o t h e p e o p l e , and a l s o a r e v e l a t i o n o f t h e m y s t e r i e s t h e r e i n c o n t a i n e d w h i c h were t o be c o n f i d e d o n l y t o t h e s e v e n t y w i s e men and t r a n s m i t t e d o n l y o r a l l y t o t h e i r i n i t i a t e d i s c i p l e s i n o r d e r t h a t t h e m y s t e r i e s be g u a r d e d f r o m p r o f a n a t i o n . See S e c r e t , K a b b a l i s t e s Chretiens, p p . 2 - 5 . 118 T r a n s l a t e d i n t o F r e n c h by N i c h o l a s Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e and p u b l i s h e d w i t h Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n i n t o F r e n c h o f F r a n c i s c o G i o r g i o ' s H a r m o n i a m u n d i , f o r w h i c h see b e l o w p . 119 S e c r e t , K a b b a l i s t e s c h r e t i e n s , p p . 4 4 - 1 4 0 . 120 I b i d . , p p . 1 5 1 - 1 7 1 . 62 121 I n t h e p r o l o g u e t o P a n t a g r u e l R a b e l a i s r e f e r s a l s o t o une r e l i g i e u s e c a b a l l e . " 122 S e c r e t , Z o h a r , p.. 2 3 , n o t e s t h a t e n t r i e s i n L a B o d e r i e ' s D i c t i o n a r i u m s y r o - c h a l d a i c u m i n d i c a t e a t h o r o u g h r e a d i n g o f t h e Z d h a r . L a B o d e r i e ' s d i c t i o n a r y was the f i r s t s y s t e m a t i c a t t e m p t t o e s t a b l i s h a g l o s s a r y o f K a b b a l i s t i c t e r m s . 123 F o r t h e most c o m p l e t e s t u d i e s o f P o s t e l see t h e w o r k s by F r a n c o i s S e c r e t i n t h e b i b l i o g r a p h y o f t h e p r e s e n t e s s a y . See a l s o W. J . Bouwsma, C o n c o r d i a m u n d i : t h e C a r e e r and Thought o f P o s t e l ( C a m b r i d g e , M a s s . : H a r v a r d U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1 9 5 7 ) . 124 F o r t h e f i g u r e o f E l i j a h as "he who c a r r i e s t h e d i v i n e message f r o m g e n e r a t i o n t o g e n e r a t i o n , he who a t t h e end o f t i m e w i l l r e c o n c i l e a l l t h e c o n f l i c t i n g o p i n i o n s , t r a d i t i o n s , and d o c t r i n e s m a n i f e s t e d i n J u d a i s m , " see S c h o l e m , On t h e K a b b a l a h , p . 2 0 . 125 . K a b b a l i s t e s c h r d t i e n s , p . 1 7 6 . 126 F o r a b r i e f c o m p a r i s o n o f t h e s e themes w i t h C h r i s t i a n m y s t i c i s m and w i t h N e o - P l a t o n i s t t h o u g h t s e e S c h o l e m , M a j o r T r e n d s , p p . 1 9 - 2 0 . 127 S e c r e t , K a b b a l i s t e s Chretiens, p p . 1 8 7 - 2 1 7 . See a l s o S e c r e t , "De q u e l q u e s c o u r a n t s p r o p h e t i q u e s , " p p . 1 - 3 2 . 128 ~ >• S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p a s s i m . 129 I b i d . , p p . 9 - 1 1 , 2 0 . See a l s o F r a n c o i s S e c r e t , "Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e r e p r e s e n t a n t de G . P o s t e l a l a P o l y g l o t t e d ' A n v e r s , " De G u l d e n P a s s e r , X L I V ( 1 9 6 6 ) , p p . 2 4 5 - 2 5 7 . C f . T e r e n c e C . C a v e , D e v o t i o n a l P o e t r y i n F r a n c e , c . 1570-1613 (Cambridge U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1 9 6 9 ) . 63 CHAPTER I I I THEMATIC CONTENT OF THE WORKS: ORIGINAL WORKS The c a r d i n a l themes o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c w o r k c a n be t r a c e d i n L ' E n c y c l i e and L a G a l l i a d e . A s t u d y o f t h e m i n o r v e r s e and t h e p o e t ' s i n t r o d u c t i o n to h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s d i s c l o s e s v a r i a t i o n s on t h o s e themes as w e l l as t h e i r s i g n i f i c a n c e i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h e a u t h o r ' s n o t i o n o f h i s r o l e as a p o e t . I n A . - M . S c h m i d t ' s s t u d y o f t h e s c i e n t i f i c p o e t r y o f t h e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e , an a t t e m p t t o " o r d o n n e r en une c o s m o l o g i e l e s r c S s u l t a t s £ p a r s de l a p h i l o s o p h i e n a t u r e l l e , " he p o i n t s o u t t h a t " c e t t e p o e s i e forme l a p r e t e n t i o n d ' e t r e l ' a c h e v e m e n t u n i t a i r e des s c i e n c e s : a p l u s f o r t e r a i s o n e n c o r e l o r s q u ' e l l e se r e c l a m e du monisme h e r m e t i q u e . " ^ I n t h a t c o n t e x t o f an e f f o r t t o w a r d a d e m o n s t r a t i o n o f t h e u n i t y o f k n o w l e d g e L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k s d e s e r v e a p l a c e , even t h o u g h many o f h i s themes a p p e a r t o t h e r e a d e r 2 " s t u p £ f i a n t s d ' a n a c h r o n i s m e en 1 5 7 8 . " L a B o d e r i e a p p e a r s t o h a v e 64 d i s r e g a r d e d o r e v e n r e j e c t e d t h e s c i e n t i f i c d i s c o v e r i e s and even t h e d e v e l o p i n g s c i e n t i f i c s p i r i t o f h i s c e n t u r y i n f a v o u r o f a n i d e a l i s m r e l a t e d t o t h e H e l l e n i s t i c g n o s t i c i s m common t o e a r l y C h r i s t i a n t e a c h i n g and t o many e l e m e n t s o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a t r a n s m i t t e d t h r o u g h t h e A l e x a n d r i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s t o t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s . Y e t i t i s a c e r t a i n o p t i m i s m , a p r a c t i c a l as w e l l as a m e t a p h y s i c a l i d e a l i s m w h i c h marks h i m as a man o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e . H i s " w o r l d p i c t u r e " may be compared t o t h a t o f t h e E n g l i s h E l i z a b e t h a n s as c l a r i f i e d by T i l l y a r d . He s h a r e s t h e i r " p r e p o n d e r a t i n g f a i t h " i n t h e i r " p e r i l o u s l y p o i s e d w o r l d " d e s p i t e t h e f a c t t h a t C o p e r n i c a n a s t r o n o m y " h a d by t h e n b r o k e n t h e f i c t i o n o f t h e e t e r n a l 3 and i m m u t a b l e h e a v e n s . " L a B o d e r i e ' s i s t h e w o r l d o f t h e m e d i e v a l " g r e a t c h a i n o f 4 b e i n g " o f w h i c h t h e h i s t o r y has b e e n t r a c e d b y L o v e j o y . I t i s a w o r l d o f H e r m e t i c c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s b e t w e e n t h e p l a n e s o f t h e d i v i n e and t h e a n g e l i c , o f t h e macrocosm, t h e e l e m e n t a l w o r l d o f t e r r e s t r i a l c r e a t i o n , and o f man t h e m i c r o c o s m and o f h i s s o c i a l body p o l i t i c . L a B o d e r i e ' s f o r m a t i v e c o n c e p t i s above a l l t h a t o f a u n i v e r s a l harmony w h i c h i m p l i e s i n a l l c r e a t i o n the p r i n c i p l e s o f d e g r e e and c o n s o n a n c e , a n a l o g o u s t o m u s i c a l i n t e r v a l s and h a r m o n i e s . I t i s a c o n c e p t w h i c h i s s u p p o r t e d c h i e f l y by c l a s s i c a l P y t h a g o r e a n and P l a t o n i c as w e l l as N e o - P l a t o n i c t h e o r i e s , ^ by t h e K a b b a l i s t i c i m a g e r y o f t h e S e p h i r o t h , and by an A u g u s t i n i a n n o t i o n o f o r d e r and o f C h r i s t i a n l o v e as t h e h a r m o n i c b a s e s o f c r e a t i o n . ^ 65 L a B o d e r i e ' s p r i n c i p a l theme i s s y m b o l i z e d i n t h e c i r c l e , h i s " f i g u r e g l u e . " L a B o d e r i e shows h i m s e l f a d i s c i p l e o'f F i c i n i a n N e o - P l a t o n i s m i n c h o o s i n g t h i s f i g u r e o f t o t a l i t y and o f p e r f e c t o r d e r i n a f o r m o f p r i m a l s i m p l i c i t y . ^ Through harmony t h e m u l t i p l i c i t y o f c r e a t i o n i s r e c o n c i l e d w i t h t h e p e r f e c t u n i t y o f G o d . The p o e t - m u s i c i a n i s thus a g o d - l i k e composer o f h a r m o n i e s s e t on t h e p a t t e r n o f d i v i n e c r e a t i o n and d e s i g n e d t o c e l e b r a t e t h a t c r e a t i o n as w e l l as t o l e a d g men t o a p r o p e r a t t u n e m e n t w i t h i t s f u n d a m e n t a l c o n c o r d a n c e s . L a B o d e r i e ' s s y n c r e t i s t i c o r i e n t a t i o n f o r b i d s a r i g o r o u s l o g i c a l a n a l y s i s o f t h e o f t e n i n c o h e r e n t and r e d u n d a n t t h e m a t i c c o n t e n t o f h i s w o r k s . On t h e o t h e r h a n d , i t i s j u s t t h i s h a r m o n i z i n g s p i r i t o f t h e p o e t - m u s i c i a n i m i t a t o r o f t h e A r c h i m u s i c u s w h i c h a f f o r d s h i m 9 a c e r t a i n power o f s h a p i n g a p o e t i c w o r l d . A . L ' E N C Y C L I E DES SECRETS DE L ' E T E R N I T E L ' E n c y c l i e des s e c r e t s de l ' g t e r n i t g , L a B o d e r i e ' s f i r s t p o e t i c w o r k , was p u b l i s h e d i n 1571 a t A n t w e r p b y P l a n t i n , p u b l i s h e r o f t h e P o l y g l o t B i b l e . T h i s w o r k i s s e t f o r t h i n one h u n d r e d and f i f t y - s i x pages i n o c t a v o t o w h i c h a r e appended some two h u n d r e d pages o f v e r s e d e d i c a t e d t o h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s and o f v e r s e t r a n s l a t i o n s f r o m t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i . L ' E n c y c l i e c a n be r e l a t e d s u p e r f i c i a l l y t o S c e v e ' s M i c r o c o s m e as w e l l as t o Du B a r t a s ' Semaine i n i t s e n c y c l o p e d i c t r e a t m e n t o f m a n ' s c o n d i t i o n and i n i t s " s c i e n t i f i c " a p p r o a c h t o a p o l o g e t i c s t h r o u g h a r e a s o n e d a r g u m e n t . The s o l e m n i t y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s " p h i l o s o p h i c " C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m i n t h e E n c y c l i e r e c a l l s t o o t h e e s t h e t i c o f " p h i l o s o p h i c " l y r i c i s m o f R o n s a r d ' s Hymnes. "*"̂ The t e r m " e n c y c l i e " o f t h e t i t l e d e s c r i b e s t h e e x p a n d i n g c i r c l e s c a u s e d by a s t o n e b e i n g d r o p p e d i n t o w a t e r . I t s u g g e s t s b o t h t h e t o t a l i t y o f t h e c i r c l e and t h e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s between t h e p l a n e s o f b e i n g i n t h e macrocosm and t h e m i c r o c o s m . I t s u g g e s t s above a l l t h e d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e o f c r e a t i o n , f o r t h e image o f t h e " e n c y c l i e " c a n be l i k e n e d t o t h e c o n t i n u o u s e m a n a t i o n s i n t h e K a b b a l i s t S e p h i r o t h o r t o t h e P l a t o n i c ariima mundi s e t t i n g i n m o t i o n t h e h e a v e n l y s p h e r e s I n L a B o d e r i e ' s " t h ^ o l o g i e r e s o l u t i v e " t h e t e r m r e p r e s e n t s 67 a l s o t h e c y c l i c a l movement by w h i c h man c a n r e t u r n t h r o u g h a c o m p r e h e n s i o n o f d i v i n e m a n i f e s t a t i o n s to a v i s i o n o f the d i v i n e i t s e l f . Thus t h e t i t l e c o n t a i n s i n i t s e l f an i n d i c a t i o n b o t h o f L a B o d e r i e ' s K a b b a l i s t and N e o - P l a t o n i s t a f f i l i a t i o n s and t h e a u t h o r ' s p r i n c i p a l image f o r h i s e x p l a n a t i o n o f t h e " s e c r e t s o f e t e r n i t y . " L ' E n c y c l i e i s e s s e n t i a l l y a work o f C a t h o l i c a p o l o g e t i c s i n 12 t h e t r a d i t i o n o f N e o - P l a t o n i s t s y n c r e t i s m . I n s p i t e o f t h e somewhat s u s p e c t P l a t o n i c i d e a s and t h e i m p o r t a n c e g i v e n t o P o s t e l l i a n i n t e r - p r e t a t i o n s o f K a b b a l i s t i c themes, t h e work a p p e a r e d " a v e c p r i v i l e g e " inasmuch as L a B o d e r i e had i n c l u d e d p r e c a u t i o n a r y m a r g i n a l n o t e s ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 8 7 , 94) and t h e f o l l o w i n g s t a t e m e n t i n t h e p r e f a c e : D ' a d v a n t a g e t u p o u r r a s t r o u v e r en c e s t Oeuvre q u e l q u e s p o i n s t i r e z du s a c r a i r e de l a p h i l o s o p h i e p r i n c i p a l e m e n t P l a t o n i q u e : comme de l ' A m e du Monde, des I n t e l l i g e n c e s mouvantes l e s S f e r e s , de l ' H a r m o n i e des C i e u s , e t a u t r e s s e m b l a b l e s ; L e s q u e l s j e ne veus n i e n t e n s e s t r e a u t r e m e n t r e c e u s de moy, que comme L ' E g l i s e Romaine e t u n i v e r s e l l e en a u r a d e t e r m i n e , au jugement de l a q u e l l e j ' a y s o u m i s e t soumets non s e u l e m e n t l e p r e s e n t O e u v r e , m a i s a u s s i t o u s a u t r e s m i e n s e s c r i p t s que p a r cy a p r e s j e p o u r r o y e m e t t r e en l u m i e r e , v o i r e t o u s mes d i e t s e t a c t i o n s ; e s t a n t deuement a s s e u r e que h o r s i c e l l e i l n ' y a p o i n t de s a l u t , e t q u ' e n t r e ses mains s o n t l e s c l e f s de t o u t e v e r i t e , p a r ce q u e l l e e s t r e g i e du S. E s p r i t q u i en e s t l e s o u r g e o n i n e p u i s a b l e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 7 ) 1 3 The Hebrew l e g e n d a c c o m p a n y i n g t h e a u t h o r ' s p o r t r a i t ( E n c y c l i e , p . 2 ) , f r e e l y t r a n s l a t e d by h i s b r o t h e r N i c h o l a s , c o n f i r m s t h e a u t h o r ' s b e l i e f i n t h e v a l i d i t y o f h i s s e t t i n g f o r t h t h e C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e i n t h e t r a d i t i o n o f t h e g r e a t p o e t s o f a n t i q u i t y : 68 Le F e v r e en q u i D a v i d r e v i t , R e v i t FEU VERGILE e t s a f e e E t l a l y r e q u i t o u t r a v i t R e v i t en L ' U N QUI GUIDE ORFEE. A s i m i l a r s p i r i t i n f o r m s t h e Greek m o t t o e n c i r c l i n g t h e p o r t r a i t o f t h e a u t h o r , and w h i c h accompanies a l l o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c w o r k s : V\riC>£ A A & I A O P § l K * * I 3 ( t H 8PT0I (May H o l y D a v i d s p r o u t f o r t h as one O r p h i c a l l y ) . The p r e f a t o r y " A d v e r t i s s e m e n t au L e c t e u r " p r e s e n t s t h e a u t h o r ' s j u s t i f i c a t i o n f o r u n d e r t a k i n g s u c h an e x p o s i t i o n o f t h e " s e c r e t s o f e t e r n i t y , " t h e g e n e s i s o f the work i t s e l f , i t s f o r m , and t h e a u t h o r ' s p u r p o s e i n w r i t i n g . One m i g h t w o n d e r , he a d m i t s , t h a t i n t h e e n l i g h t e n e d t i m e o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e t h e r e s h o u l d be r e l i g i o u s s c e p t i c s : . . . a t t e n d u q u ' i l n ' e s t c r o y a b l e , q u ' e n un s i d o c t e s i e c l e , i l s e t r o u v e des e s p r i t s t a n t d g n a t u r e z , e t a v e u g l e s , q u ' i l s o s e n t r ' a p p e l l e r en d o u t e un t a n t c e r t a i n e t s t a b l e f o n d e m e n t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 3) B u t L a B o d e r i e h i m s e l f , p r e s u m a b l y as a s t u d e n t a t C a e n , had e n c o u n t e r e d r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s o f t h e new r a t i o n a l i s m : A quoy j e r e s p o n , q u ' i l y a p l u s de q u i n z e ans p a s s e z , q u ' a mon g r a n d r e g r e t j ' a y este" f a i t c e r t a i n , que sous s e m b l a n c e humaine i l se t r o u v o i t de t e l s m o n s t r u e u s e s p r i t s , q u i o s o y e n t p l e i n e m e n t d e n i e r e t D i e u e t l a P r o v i d e n c e , e t t e n o y e n t p o u r r e s o l u e n t r e eus que t o u t e s c h o s e s a l l o y e n t a 1 ' a d v e n t u r e . E t f u r e n t b i e n aucuns d ' e n t r e eus . . . s i t e m e r a i r e m e n t impudens que de m ' e n t e n i r p r o p o s , e t me v o y a n t en ma p r e m i e r e a d o l e s c e n c e , me p r o - p o s o y e n t des d o u t e s t o u c h a n t l a C r e a t i o n du Monde; que f a i s o i t D i e u a v a n t i c e l l e , ou i l e s t o i t , ou 69 I o n p o u r r o i t a s s i g n e r l e l i e u des E n f e r s , e t t e l l e s a u t r e s q u e s t i o n s v a i n e s e t c u r i e u s e s . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 3-4) H i s p e r s o n a l e x p e r i e n c e was s y m p t o m a t i c , i n f a c t , o f a g r o w i n g r a t i o n a l i s t and e v e n a t h e i s t i c c u r r e n t w h i c h B u s s o n has c l a s s i f i e d as one a s p e c t o f t h e s p i r i t u a l f e r m e n t o f t h e p e r i o d . " ' " " ' W r i t i n g a t t h e t i m e and i n t h e s p i r i t o f t h e C o u n t e r - R e f o r m , L a B o d e r i e l o o k e d w i t h h o r r o r on s c e p t i c s , R e f o r m i s t s and above a l l a t h e i s t s : M a i s p a r ce q u ' e n t e l l e c o n f u s i o n e t m e s l a n g e de s e c t e s e t h e r e s i e s q u i de n o s t r e temps se s o n t e l e v e n s en t o u t e 1 ' E u r o p e , se n o u r r i t s e c r e t t e m e n t c e l l e q u i e s t l e comble de t o u t e s l e s a u t r e s , e t q u i f a i t p r o f e s s i o n de ne r i e n c r o i r e , j e veus d i r e des A t h C e s . . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 6) The a u t h o r ' s own e a r l y s p i r i t u a l d i s i l l u s i o n m e n t w i t h o v e r l y - r a t i o n a l i s t i c h u m a n i s t s c h o l a r s h i p was t o o r i e n t a l l h i s s u b s e q u e n t work b o t h as s c h o l a r and as p o e t t o w a r d C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s : D e s l o r s j e f u s e g u i l l o n d d ' e m b r a s s e r e s t r o i t e m e n t e t a u t a n t que mon aage p o u v o i t p o r t e r , l ' e s t u d e de l a p h i l o s o p h i e ; ne me p r o p o s a n t a u t r e f i n p r e s q u e en t o u t l e d i s c o u r s des d i s c i p l i n e s que g l o u t e m e n t j e d e v o r o i s , s i n o n de r e c h e r c h e r t o u t ce q u i f a i s o i t a l a p r e u v e n a t u r e l l e des A r t i c l e s de n o s t r e Foy e t de r e c o n n o i s t r e de p l u s en p l u s l a T o u t e - p u i s s a n c e , S a g e s s e , e t Bonte" de l ' E s t a n t e t e r n e l p a r l a c o n s i d e r a t i o n de s e s Oeuvres a d m i r a b l e s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 4) L a B o d e r i e c l a i m s t o have begun t h e E n c y c l i e a t a v e r y y o u n g a g e , and i n d e e d the f i r s t s e v e n " C i r c l e s " o f the work were c o m p l e t e d by h i s t w e n t y - f i r s t y e a r , t h a t i s t o s a y b e f o r e h i s m a j o r o r i e n t a l l i n g u i s t i c s t u d i e s ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 4 - 5 ) . The K a b b a l i s t i c theme o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e i n t h e i m p o r t a n t E i g h t h C i r c l e shows t h e f r u i t o f t h o s e s t u d i e s and o f 70 L a B o d e r i e ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l . As f o r t h e method o f t h i s p r o p a g a n d i s t i c w o r k , L a B o d e r i e h a s c h o s e n t o p l a y t h e r o l e o f t h e i g n o r a n t q u e s t i o n e r i n o r d e r t o have h i s p u r p o s e f u l l y m i s g u i d e d arguments c o n c l u s i v e l y r e f u t e d i n h i s d i a l o g u e w i t h t h e c e l e s t i a l Muse U r a n i e : E t combien que j ' a y e p r i n s l e masque e t l e manteau de l ' i n c r e d u l e c u r i e u s p o u r mieus j o u e r s o n r o l l e , s i o s a y - j e d i r e que comme l e f i l de l ' o e v r e m ' a c o n d u i t j e n ' a y l a i s s e o b j e c t i o n aucune dond j e me s o i s p e u s o u v e n i r , l a q u e l l e j e n ' a y e e s s a y e de d i s s o u l d r e p a r p l u s f o r t a r g u m e n t , e t a y a n t , comme on d i e t , l a p e l o t t e en l a m a i n , ne m ' e n s u i s p o i n t p o u r t a n t f a i t p l u s beau j e u . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 5 - 6 ) The p r o p o s i t i o n s a r e n o t e x p l i c i t l y b a s e d on a u t h o r i t y , i n a s m u c h as t h e r e a d e r s whom t h e a u t h o r w i s h e s t o p e r s u a d e c o n s i d e r t h e m s e l v e s t o be swayed o n l y by r e a s o n : J e ne v e u s o m e t t r e de t ' a d v e r t i r , L e c t e u r , que j e n ' a l l e g u e en c e s t Oeuvre aucun a u t h e u r , p a r ce que j e s c a y que t e l l e m a n i e r e de g e n t s a q u i j ' a y a f f a i r e , r e j e t t e n t e t se moquent de t o u t e a u t h o r i t e , demandans a chasque mot r a i s o n , de l a q u e l l e i l s n ' o n t pas une once . . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 6) The work as a w h o l e i s a r r a n g e d i n " C i r c l e s , " a r o u n d w h i c h t h e t h r e a d o f t h e arguments i s d e s i g n e d t o l e a d t h e r e a d e r f r o m n a t u r a l t o s u p e r - n a t u r a l r e v e l a t i o n s o f t r u t h : . . . en l ' e n t r e s u i t e e t l i a i s o n des causes i e s u i s monte j u s q u e s a l a p r e m i e r e . ' ( E n c y c l i e , p . 7) I n a l l , t h i s work l i k e L a B o d e r i e ' s l a t e r w o r k s i s c o n c e i v e d as p r i m a r i l y u s e f u l r a t h e r t h a n p l e a s u r a b l e . To p o e t i c i m m o r t a l i t y a c h i e v e d by a r t i s t i c r e f i n e m e n t s o f w h i c h he was sometimes s u s p i c i o u s , " ' " 71 L a B o d e r i e p r e f e r r e d t h e s a t i s f a c t i o n o f s e r v i n g h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s , e s p e c i a l l y t h e h u m a n i s t e l i t e , t h r o u g h h i s g l o r i f i c a t i o n o f a t i m e l e s s G o d : . . . a y a n t n e a n t m o i n s t o u s j o u r s ce b u t d e v a n t l e s y e u s , de r e n d r e mon s t i l e l e p l u s c l a i r e t aisce q u ' i l m ' a e s t e p o s s i b l e . C a r j e n ' e u j a m a i s d e s i r d ' e s c r i r e aus m o r s , mais aus v i v a n s , e t de p r o f i t e r au p e u p l e de F r a n c e . . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 8) . . . j a p i e c a j e p r e t e n s De p l a i r e en p r o f i t a n t aux d o c t e s . ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 15) L a B o d e r i e d e d i c a t e d h i s E n c y c l i e t o h i s f u t u r e r o y a l p a t r o n t o whom he h a d b e e n recommended as e a r l y as 1568 ( E n c y c l i e , p . 5 ) . The " C h a n t en forme d ' e p i s t r e d e d i c a t o i r e . . . a T r e s - h a u l t e t T r e s - i l l u s t r e P r i n c e M o n s e i g n e u r l e Due d ' A l l e n c o n f r e r e du Roy T r e s - c h r e s t i e n C h a r l e s n e u f i g m e " p r e s e n t s a g a i n t h e a u t h o r ' s r e a s o n s b o t h p e r s o n a l and s o c i a l f o r u n d e r t a k i n g an e x p o s i t i o n o f " t h e s e c r e t s o f e t e r n i t y " i n a tempestuous age when men a r e t h r e a t e n e d by t h e S c y l l a and C h a r y b d i s o f " l a m o n s t r u e u s e b e s t e / Q u ' o n nomme O p i n i o n en l a R e l i g i o n " and " l ' A b i s m e " o f " l ' l m p i e t e i " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 0 ) . A l o n g e x h o r t a t i o n t o t h e f r e e - t h i n k e r s and s e c t a r i a n s o f t h e day u r g e s them t o c o n s i d e r the o r d e r , t h e harmony and t h e b e a u t y o f t h e u n i v e r s e as 18 p r o o f s o f i t s d i v i n e C r e a t o r and o f a d i v i n e P r o v i d e n c e , c h a s t i s i n g t h e " d e v o y e z " f o r t h e i r m i s g u i d e d r e a s o n i n g : T o u t e s f o i s c o n t e m p l a n s du Monde l e b e l o r d r e , Q u i c o n t i e n t tous ces a r s e t tous l e u r s a r t i s a n s , Vous o s e z impudens ou m e s c o n n o i s t r e ou m o r d r e Du M o t e u r l e c o n s e i l , - ^ a v e u g l e s m f i d i s a n s ; E t ne v o y e z vous p o i n t que 1 ' o n ne p o u r r o i t t o r d r e 72 Ces c e r c l e s e n c e r c l e ' s p a r mouvemens d [ i ] v i s a n s Sans une g r a n d R a i s o n ; v e u que p o u r l e s e n t e n d r e , I I nous f a u t t o u t 1 ' E s p r i t e t l a R a i s o n e s t e n d r e ? ( E n c y c l i e , p . 15) and c o n c l u d i n g : Ne d o u t e z done j a m a i s v o y a n t t e l l e c o n c o r d e Q u i s e c r e t t e e n t r e t i e n t l e Monde en s a beaute", Q u ' i l n ' y a y t un P a t r o n q u i manie e t q u i t o r d e L ' a n c r e e t l e g o u v e r n a i l s e l o n s a v o l o n t C , E t quoy que m a i n t e n a n t vous v o y e z l a d i s c o r d e P o u r l a R e l i g i o n , ou p o u r l a R o y a u t e Y Ne vous l a i s s e z a l l e r comme une g i r o t l e t t e Q u i sans aucun a r r e s t a t o u t v e n t p i r o u e t t e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 22) The p o e t ' s c y c l i c a l and G a l l i c themes, w h i c h he w i l l d e v e l o p l a t e r i n L a G a l l i a d e , a r e s u g g e s t e d h e r e by r e f e r e n c e t o t h e D r u i d s as t h e f i r s t p o e t - p r i e s t s whose r e l i g i o u s i n s i g h t and whose a r t , t r a n s m i t t e d t h r o u g h t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i on whom L a B o d e r i e has d r a w n , a r e t o be renewed i n R e n a i s s a n c e F r a n c e : 20 Sous l ' H e r c u l e G a u l o y s c e s t e f a c o n a n t i q u e De r a i s o n n e r de D i e u , p r i n t s o n commencement, E t des D r u y d e s v i e u s q u i a v o y e n t l a p r a t i q u e Du Monde, de N a t u r e , e t s o n advancement, P a r l e s M e o n i e n s de G a u l e en T e r r e A t t i q u e F u t p o r t e e . . . E t o r e s nous devons des Romains l e s r e p r e n d r e E t p o s s e d e r l e b i e n q u i e s t de n o z a y e u s , A f i n que l e s c a v o i r , de 1 ' E m p i r e c o u v e r c l e , V i e n e en G a u l e avec vous [ s i c ] f i n i r l e r o n d du C e r c l e . Chez nous e n c o r l e s V e r s , e t l a L y r e e s t o f e e Ont e s t e i n v e n t e z des B a r d e s a n c i e n s . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 23) The D r u i d s , l i k e Orpheus and D a v i d , r e p r e s e n t a l s o f o r L a B o d e r i e t h e t y p e o f t h e e t h i c a l l y i n f l u e n t i a l s i n g e r whom he w i s h e s t o e m u l a t e , f o r so p o w e r f u l was t h e i r a r t t h a t t h e i r songs w o u l d charm even w a r r i o r s i n t h e f i e l d : 73 M a r s c r u e l r e v e r a n t des Muses l e s M e r v e i l l e s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 24) The d e d i c a t i o n c l o s e s w i t h an i n v o c a t i o n to God f o r g u i d a n c e i n t h e p o e t ' s e n t e r p r i s e , o r i g i n a l i n h i s t i m e , o f s e t t i n g f o r t h i n v e r s e t h e e s s e n c e o f t h e o r i g i n a l d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n on Mount Z i o n , t h e v e i l e d t r u t h t r a n s m i t t e d t h r o u g h Moses t o t h e K a b b a l i s t i n i t i a t e s : M a i s 6 g r a n d D i e u c ' e s t t o y q u i m ' a c c o r d a n t a c c o r d e s S u r mon P s a l t e r i o n l e s s e c r e t z des H e b r i e u s , L e s q u e l s j ' a y l e p r e m i e r d ' e n t r e t o u s n o z P o n t e s O u v e r s , e t d e c o u v e r s en r i m e s non m u e t t e s . Guide-moy done mon D i e u . . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 25) W i t h h i s accustomed w o r d - p l a y i n anagrams, L a B o d e r i e s t r e s s e s the new s e r i o u s n e s s o f h i s c o n c e p t i o n o f t h e r o l e o f t h e p o e t , r e v e a l e r o f m y s t e r i e s , as compared even w i t h t h e r o l e o f t h e e a r l y R o n s a r d : Guide-moy done mon D i e u , f a y que j e ne m ' e g a r e De t e s s e n t i e r s c o n n u s , e t a i n s i q u ' o n a v e u En PIERRE DE RONSARD SE REDORER PINDARE, Fay q u ' e n t e c o n n o i s s a n t , l ' U n p r e m i e r j ' a y e e l e u , L ' U n j e s e r v e , l ' U n j ' a y m e , e t de l ' U n s o i s a v a r e : S o i t a v e c s o n C e s a r FEU VERGILE p o u r v e u , E t a L ' A L C I D E HEVREUS que ma L y r e e t o f e e L u i f a c e o u y r a c l a i r comme L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 25) Thus as t h e new Orpheus t h e p o e t p r o p o s e s , w i t h t h e i n s p i r a t i o n o f d i v i n e wisdom p e r s o n i f i e d i n t h e c e l e s t i a l M u s e , " l a s a i n t e U r a n i e / 21 LUMIERE ARCHE D I V I N E , " t o move h i s r e a d e r s t o a m o r a l r e n e w a l and a s p i r i t u a l r e b i r t h . H a v i n g i n v i t e d h i s r e a d e r t o e n t e r w i t h h i m i n t o t h e t a b e r n a c l e o f t r u t h , L a B o d e r i e assumes t h e r o l e o f c u r i o u s d o u b t e r , t h e " S e c r e t a i r e . " I n t h e " A v a n t - J e u du D i a l o g u e " he f i r s t p o s e s a s e r i e s o f q u e s t i o n s . U r a n i e ' s s i b y l l i n e answers t o s u c h q u e r i e s d e f i n e a g a i n t h e p o e t ' s h i g h 74 p u r p o s e . He s h o u l d a v o i d .the s e n s u a l , t h e m a t e r i a l and w o r l d l y f o r t h e y c a n b r i n g o n l y d o u b t and c a r e and a r e o f no e s s e n t i a l v a l u e : " Q u i me f a i c t done de D i e u ces mots d o u t e u s l a c h e r ? " " L a C h a i r . " "Que p o u r r a i - j e t r o u v e r aus e s c r i s d ' E p i c u r e ? " " C u r e . " " C o m b i e n e s t i m e s - t u t o u t l ' h o n n e u r t e r r i e n ? " " M e n . " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 28) H i s Muse demands t h a t t h e p o e t must be v i r t u o u s and l e a r n e d : "Que d o i - j e done f u i r p o u r e s t r e a t o n s e r v i c e ? " " V i c e . " "Que d o i - j e f a i r e a f i n d ' y a c c o r d e r ma L y r e ? " " L i r e . " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 28) She w i l l t h e n g u i d e h i m t o an u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f the s u p e r n a l m o v i n g f o r c e o f t h e u n i v e r s e : " Q u ' e s t l a L o y de d e s s u s , d ' a u t r e L o y d i s p e n s e e ? " " P e n s e e . " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 27) Thus w i l l h i s w o r k p r o v e o f l a s t i n g v a l u e : " O u se p o u s s e n t l e s C h a n t s de t o n e s p r i t s c a v a n t ? " " A v a n t ! " " Q u i v e r r a t e s S e c r e t s dans c e s t Ombre v o l a g e ? " " L ' A g e . " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 27) The f i r s t s e v e n C i r c l e s o f t h e E n c y c l i e l e a d t h e r e a d e r t h r o u g h v a r i o u s d i s c i p l i n e s o f t h o u g h t , f r o m p s y c h o l o g y , b i o l o g y , m a t h e m a t i c s , m o r a l p h i l o s o p h y , s o c i o l o g y , p h y s i c s , m e t a p h y s i c s t o t h e o l o g y . I n t h e E i g h t h C i r c l e l y r i c a l p r a i s e o f i n t u i t i v e and m y s t i c a l - e c s t a t i c k n o w l e d g e complements t h e p r e c e d i n g d i s c u r s i v e r e a s o n i n g and i n t r o d u c e s a 75 c r y s t a l l i z a t i o n o f t h e " s e c r e t s o f e t e r n i t y " i n an e l a b o r a t i o n o f t h e s y m b o l i s m o f t h e K a b b a l i s t i c t a b e r n a c l e . The F i r s t C i r c l e f i x e s t h e d i a l o g u e i n " u n l i e u s a c r C , s o l i t a i r e , a l ' C c a r t " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 29) where U r a n i e ' s " s e c r e t s e t m y s t e r e s " w i l l 22 n o t be p r o f a n e d . To t h e S e c r e t a r y ' s f i r s t q u e s t i o n a b o u t t h e e x i s t e n c e o f an e t e r n a l G o d , U r a n i e answers w i t h a p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e P l a t o n i c c o n c e p t o f t h e a n i m a t i n g w o r l d s o u l and a c o n s t a t a t i o n o f t h e w o r l d - w i d e b e l i e f i n gods w h i c h p r e c e d e d a m o n o t h e i s t i c r e l i g i o n . The d o u b t i n g S e c r e t a r y r e j e c t s human a u t h o r i t y , h o w e v e r , demanding " p o u r t o u s t e s m o i n s r a i s o n e t v e r i t y " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 23 [ 3 1 ] ) . There f o l l o w s an exchange o f p r o p o s i t i o n s i n w h i c h U r a n i e , c o u n t e r i n g t h e S e c r e t a r y ' s arguments drawn p r i n c i p a l l y f r o m P l i n y and o t h e r c l a s s i c a l w r i t e r s , f i r s t shows man a l o n e t o be p o s s e s s o r o f t h e d i v i n e l i g h t o f r e a s o n and f i n a l l y makes o f the autonomy o f r e a s o n , w h i c h i s a l o n e n o t s u b j e c t t o m a t e r i a l c h a n g e , a p r o o f o f d i v i n i t y . The f i r s t o f t h e M u s e ' s l o g i c a l d e d u c t i o n s i s b a s e d on t h e p r e m i s e t h a t e v e n a c o m b i n a t i o n o f p a r t s c a n n o t p r o d u c e a q u a l i t y w h i c h t h e p a r t s t h e m s e l v e s do n o t c o n t a i n . Reason must t h e r e f o r e be a f a c u l t y q u i t e i n d e p e n d e n t o f t h e f o u r e l e m e n t s and o f t h e s e n s e s , f o r t h e r e a s o n i n g p r o c e s s , a l t h o u g h b a s e d on i n f o r m a t i o n p r o v i d e d by t h e s e n s e s , c o m p r i s e s c r e a t i v i t y , f o r e s i g h t , judgment and c h o i c e and i s b a s e d on s y n t h e s i s , a n a l y s i s and memory beyond t h e a s s i m i l a t i v e f u n c t i o n o f t h e s e n s e s a c c o r d i n g t o f a c u l t a t i v e p s y c h o l o g y : 76 N u l des q u a t r e elemens de d i s c o r d a n s a c c o r s N ' a l e p o u v o i r a i d e des o r g a n e s du c o r p s D ' i n v e n t e r e t p r e v o i r , j u g e r e t p u i s e l i r e P a r un l i b r e v o u l o i r l e m e i l l e u r ou l e p i r e . Quand i l s s o n a s s e m b l e s l e u r c o m p o s i t i o n Ne p e u t doncques a v o i r t a n t d i v i n e a c t i o n . Ces c o n t r a i r e - a m i s aus f e n e s t r e s o u v e r t e s P e u v e n t b i e n r e c u e i l l i r l e s images o f f e r t e s C h a s c u n en s o n e n d r o i t , non pas l e s composer U n i v e r s e l l e m e n t , e t p u i s l e s d i v i s e r . N u l d ' e u s ne p e u t m o u v o i r l i b r e m e n t l a M e m o i r e , Ou b i e n se r e c o r d e r s a n s un o b j e t n o t o i r e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 34) F u r t h e r m o r e , examples s u c h as t h o s e o f " a r t f u l " memory i n b i r d - s o n g o r o f i n s t i n c t u a l f o r e s i g h t i n t h e a n t a r e shown t o be p r o o f s n o t o f r e a s o n i n a n i m a l s b u t r a t h e r o f t h e d i v i n i t y o f N a t u r e t h e i r g u i d e : S i N a t u r e a donne aus b e s t e s l a R a i s o n E t a i n s i q u ' a u s humains M u s i q u e , e t O r a i s o n , N a t u r e e s t r a i s o n n a b l e , e l l e e s t m u s i c i e n n e , F i n a b l e m e n t N a t u r e e s t r h e t o r i c i e n n e . S i l a N a t u r e a u s s i l e u r a donne p o u v o i r De p r e v o i r l e f u t u r , e t au f u t u r p o u r v o i r , N a t u r e l e p e u t b i e n : s i N a t u r e domine D e s s u s l e Temps, e l l e e s t e t e m e L l e e t d i v i n e . Ce que t u c h e r c h o i s d o n c q ' , o r e s t u l ' a s t r o u v e , E t D i e u s u r n a t u r e l p a r n a t u r e e s t p r o u v e . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 41-42) B u t n a t u r a l f a c u l t i e s a r e o n l y as t h e shadow o f t h e d i v i n e l i g h t o f r e a s o n o f w h i c h man a l o n e p a r t a k e s : M a i s comme 1'Ombre en soy obscurement r a p p o r t e Du c o r p s s o n compagnon q u e l q u e f i g u r e m o r t e , T o u t a i n s i l a N a t u r e , ou l e Sens ombrageus M o n t r e g r o s s i e r e m e n t q u e l q u e s t r a i s nuageus De l a b e l l e R a i s o n , l a l u m i e r e f e c o n d e Tout homme i l l u m i n a n t l e q u e l v i e n en ce Monde. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 43) Man t h e chameleon i s s u p e r i o r t o a l l o t h e r a n i m a l s i n h i s c a p a c i t y f o r c r e a t i v i t y : 77 M a i s c ' e s t t o u t a u t r e m e n t que de l ' e s p e c e h u m a i n e , Q u i , q u a n d , e t comme on v e u t , l ' A r t e t n a t u r e m e i n e : S i que t r o p e t t r o p p l u s que d'hommes s i n g u l i e r s Y a d ' o e u v r e s d i v e r s a l'homme f a m i l i e r s . Sur n a t u r e e l l e a done q u e l q u e v i g u e u r su preme, Car l a n a t u r e d o i t r e s e m b l e r a soym£me. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 42) O n l y man i s p o s s e s s e d o f t h e f r e e l y a c t i n g autonomous s p i r i t c o n t r a s t e d t o t h e n a t u r a l a n i m a l s e n s e s w h i c h c a n do no more t h a n r e a c t t o a s t i m u l u s ; man's s p i r i t i s " s i m p l e , " t h a t i s t o s a y p u r e and f r e e o f any m a t e r i a l c o n t a m i n a t i o n : P u i s doncques que 1 ' E s p r i t p e u t t o u t e chose e n t e n d r e E t dans l e Monde e s t a n t s u r l e Monde s ' e s t e n d r e , I I s ' e n s u i t q u ' i l e s t s i m p l e , e t q u ' i l e s t a r r i v e " Exemt de t o u t amas, de meslange p r i v e " . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 45) T h i s n o n - m a t e r i a l p u r e s p i r i t , " l a P e n s £ e , e t l i b r e j u g e m e n t , " f r e e o f t h e laws o f e l e m e n t a l m u t a b i l i t y o f t h e t e r r e s t r i a l w o r l d becomes, a t t h e end o f t h e F i r s t C i r c l e , U r a n i e ' s f i r s t p r o o f o f a D i v i n i t y : Que s i e l l e e s t de s o y , j a m a i s e l l e ne f i n e , Ne commencant j a m a i s : p a r t a n t e l l e e s t d i v i n e . M a i s s i c ' e s t un o u v r a g e , i l n ' e s t pas sans A u t h e u r : E t p o u r c e i l e s t un DIEU a d m i r a b l e e n h a u t e u r . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 46) I n t h e Second C i r c l e t h e S e c r e t a r y ' s q u e s t i o n s about t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p o f r e a s o n t o t h e s e n s e s p r o v o k e U r a n i e t o a s t a t e m e n t o f t h e d u a l i t y o f e x i s t e n c e , m a t e r i a l and s p i r i t u a l , p r e l i m i n a r y t o a f u r t h e r e l a b o r a t i o n o f p s y c h o l o g y b a s e d on t h e p r i n c i p l e o f d i v i n e - • 2 3 r e a s o n i n n a t e i n man. 78 Change and d e a t h a r e f u n c t i o n s o f t h e m a t e r i a l w o r l d o n l y . I n t h e s p i r i t u a l w o r l d , inasmuch as t h e s o u l grows w i t h i n c r e a s e d k n o w l e d g e , o n l y i g n o r a n c e i s t o be f e a r e d : . . . c a r s i p a r l a S c i e n c e L'Ame c r o i s t en g r a n d e u r , c ' e s t une mesme e s s e n c e : Or l e c o n t r a i r e s e u l p e u t rompre t e l a c c o r d , I g n o r a n c e e s t c o n t r a i r e , I g n o r a n c e e s t done M o r t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 48) Not w i t h o u t humour U r a n i e c h a s t i s e s t h e n a ' i v e S e c r e t a r y : P o u r t a n t j e mebahi que l a M o r t ne t e t u e Q u i de t e l l e i g n o r a n c e as l ' A m e r e v e s c u e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 48) Knowledge o f t h e e l e m e n t a l w o r l d i s a c q u i r e d s u p e r f i c i a l l y t h r o u g h t h e s e n s e s b y a p r o c e s s s i m i l a r to m a g n e t i s m . G i v e n t h e d e f i c i e n c i e s o f t h e s e n s e s w h i c h a r e a l w a y s s u b j e c t t o e r r o r , h o w e v e r , U r a n i e a r g u e s t h a t man must h a v e a p r i m a r y i n n a t e s t o r e o f n u m e r i c a l and v e r b a l c o n c e p t s w h i c h , d e v e l o p i n g as h i s k n o w l e d g e i n c r e a s e s , e n a b l e s h i m t o u n d e r s t a n d h i m s e l f and t h e u n i v e r s e and e v e n t h e e t e r n a l and t h e i n f i n i t e : 0 P r i n c i p e s d i v i n s , q u i r e n d e n t l ' A m e a p r i s e A comprendre l e s C i e u s , sous q u i l ' A m e e s t c o m p r i s e , L a g u i n d a n t s u r l e Temps, dedans un L i e u sans l i e u , L i e u sans commencement, sans f i n , e t sans m i l i e u ! ( E n c y c l i e , p . 49) I n t h e g r e a t c h a i n o f b e i n g , man i s t h e l i n k between t h e s t a b l e d i v i n e and c e l e s t i a l w o r l d s and t h e m u t a b l e t e r r e s t r i a l w o r l d o f t h e e l e m e n t s : T e l z s o n t l e s N a t u r e l z c e r t a i n s e t p e r d u r a b l e s , Q u i des muables c o r p s , s o n t t o u s j o u r s i m m u a b l e s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 49) I t i s s u g g e s t e d t h a t t h e s e i n n a t e c o n c e p t s , i l l u s t r a t e d by c e r t a i n 79 u n c h a n g e a b l e a x i o m s , a r e drawn f r o m t h e p r i m a l I n t e l l i g e n c e , t h e f i r s t - c r e a t e d Logos a s s o c i a t e d e l s e w h e r e w i t h C h r i s t t h e A r c h e t y p e : E t q u ' i l s e s t o i e n t p r e m i e r que du Monde l e c o u r s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 56) T h e i r i m m u t a b i l i t y and a l s o t h e i r n o n - m a t e r i a l q u a l i t y f u r n i s h p r o o f a g a i n o f man's p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n d i v i n e i m m o r t a l i t y : I l z s o n t done en 1 ' E s p r i t q u i l e s c o n t i e n t e n s e m b l e : C a r l e Sens ne r e c o i t que ce q u i l u i r e s s e m b l e . Or 1 ' E s p r i t e s t d a i l l e u r s , p a r t a n t une R a i s o n E n t r e t i e n t des E s p r i s l a f o r c e e t l i a i s o n ; E t commence p a r s o y , se p e r p e t i i e en e l l e , E t en e l l e f i n i t , a j a m a i s e t e r n e l l e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 57) Man as a m o r a l as w e l l as an i n t e l l e c t u a l b e i n g b e a r s w i t n e s s t o t h e e l e m e n t o f t h e d i v i n e i n h i m . The T h i r d C i r c l e t r a c e s t h e s o u r c e o f " l ' H o n n e s t e t e , l ' O r d r e , e t l a B i e n - s e a n c e " and o f t h e s e " L o i s de N a t u r e , appuy des bonnes m o e u r s " t o i n n a t e r u l e s o f c o n s c i e n c e a n a l o g o u s t o t h e i n n a t e i n t e l l e c t u a l c o n c e p t s p r e v i o u s l y a f f i r m e d . Human a p p e t i t e s o r p a s s i o n s h a v e , l i k e t h e s e n s e s , t h e e f f e c t o f a h e a v y smoke w h i c h r i s k s c l o u d i n g t h e d i v i n e l i g h t o f r e a s o n w i t h v i c e as w i t h e r r o r : M a i s comme l ' o e i l s i l l e , q u i t i e n t s a f l a m e e n c l o s e , Ne se v o u l a n t o u v r i r ne v o i d aucune c h o s e , T o u t a i n s i l a R a i s o n , q u i e s t l ' o e i l des E s p r i s , Quand e l l e se r e s e r r e en s o n p e t i t p o u r p r i s , E t sans p e n s e r a r i e n au s e n s l a c h e l a b r i d e , C e l u y q u ' e l l e g u i d o i t , c e s t u y mesme l a g u i d e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 64) B u t i n so f a r as man p a r t a k e s o f t h e d i v i n e " R a i s o n p r e m i e r e " he has b e e n g r a n t e d n o t o n l y u n d e r s t a n d i n g b u t a l s o f r e e w i l l : 80 P u i s done que j ' a y p r o u v e que 1 ' e l i t e du b i e n , E t l e m e s p r i s du m a l , en t o u s hommes n ' e s t r i e n , S i n o n l e mouvement de l a s e u l e P e n s e e : P u i s que 1 ' a f f e c t i o n n ' e s t au Coeur commencee, A i n s en 1 ' E n t e n d e m e n t , . . . P u i s que l e s p r e m i e r s t r a i s des r e g i e s N a t u r e l l e s R e l u i s e n t en 1 ' E s p r i t , . . . S ' e n s u i t q u ' i l e s t un D i e u , l e p r e m i e r des E s p r i s , L e q u e l a dedans v o u s ces P r i n c i p e s e s c r i s . C ' e s t l a R a i s o n p r e m i e r e , e t l a r a i s o n en t o y Quand e l l e e s t c o n f e r m e e , e s t une j u s t e L o y . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 65) M o r a l i t y becomes a f u n c t i o n o f u n d e r s t a n d i n g , f o r t r u e m o r a l i t y i s t h e " r i g h t r e a s o n " d e r i v e d f r o m m a n ' s h a r m o n i o u s a t t u n e m e n t w i t h t h e u n i v e r s e and i t s d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e . The r e l a t i o n s h i p o f L a B o d e r i e ' s v i e w s on t h e b a s e s o f m o r a l i t y 24 and on t h e r o l e o f t h e p o e t i s c l e a r . H i s s c h o l a r l y h u m a n i s t ' s e m p h a s i s on l e a r n i n g demands t h a t t h e p o e t be above a l l " d o c t e e t v e r t u e u x " i n o r d e r t o s e a r c h o u t and t o e x p r e s s t h e d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e s i n c r e a t i o n , t h e "pommes d ' o r " o f t h e e p i g r a p h t o L ' E n c y c l i e . The c o n c e p t o f j u s t i c e i m p l i c i t i n t h e " R a i s o n p r e m i e r e " o f w h i c h i n d i v i d u a l man p a r t a k e s i s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h s o c i a l j u s t i c e i n a h i e r a r c h i c a l s t r u c t u r e as U r a n i e d e s c r i b e s i t i n t h e F o u r t h C i r c l e . The p r i n c i p l e o f a dominant l e a d e r o r primum i n e v e r y c l a s s o f the g r e a t c h a i n o f b e i n g f u r n i s h e s i n d e e d a n o t h e r p r o o f o f God n e c e s s a r y t o d o m i n a t e t h e u n i v e r s a l h i e r a r c h y as t h e monarch d o m i n a t e s t h e s o c i a l 25 h i e r a r c h y o f t h e body p o l i t i c . 81 To t h e S e c r e t a r y ' s o b j e c t i o n s o f e q u a l i t y by n a t u r a l r i g h t and h i s comment t h a t e v e n t h e i r r a t i o n a l a n i m a l s i n f e r i o r t o man c a n l i v e i n d e p e n d e n t o f a s o c i a l o r d e r U r a n i e r e p l i e s t h a t N a t u r e ' s a r t r e q u i r e s v a r i e t y w i t h i n t h e w h o l e and t h a t s p e e c h as w e l l as r e a s o n g i v e man a l o n e t h e a b i l i t y t o r e c o n c i l e v a r i e t y i n u n i t y : N a t u r e e s t p l e i n e d ' A r t , e t f a i t t o u t p o u r l e m i e u s , R i e n sans c a u s e , e t sans f i n : c ' e s t l e d i t des p l u s v i e u s . Ce q u ' e l l e v e u t u n i r , c ' e s t ce q u ' e l l e v a r i e , R a i s o n e t O r a i s o n , l e c l o u , l ' a i m a n t e t c h e i n e , Q u i a s s e m b l e e t q u i t i e n t l a Compagnie h u m a i n e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 68) V a r i a t i o n s on t h e s e two themes make up t h e argument o f t h e F o u r t h C i r c l e . Speech i s a d i v i n e g i f t v o u c h s a f e d t o man a l o n e ; t h e n a t u r a l v o i c e common t o a l l a n i m a l s i s m e r e l y i t s i n s t r u m e n t . I t i s i n d e e d t h e d i v i n e g i f t o f s p e e c h i t s e l f w h i c h i s t h e b a s i s o f c i v i l i s e d s o c i e t y : 0 P a r l e r m e r v e i l l e u s ! e t a s s e s de l o u a n g e s Ne t e p o u r r o i e n t donner l e s N a t i o n s e s t r a n g e s ' . Tu as a p p r i v o i s e s l e s hommes p l e i n s d ' e f r o y , Tu l e s as j o i n s du neud de F o y , de L o y , de R o y : Tu as p o l y l e s meurs des Sauvages a u s t e r e s , Tu as u n i l e s Gens v a g u e s , e t s o l i t a i r e s , Tu as f a i t l e s C i t e s , e t as e n t r e t e n u s Dedans l e u r s a p p e n t i f s t o u s l e s B a r b a r e s n u s . En somme, c ' e s t p a r t o y , que t o u t homme s ' a p p l i q u e P o u r a c c r o i s t r e l e b i e n de l a C h o s e - p u b l i q u e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 69) L a B o d e r i e ' s K a b b a l i s t i c c o n c e p t o f t h e name as s u b s t a n c e i s r e l a t e d t o t h i s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f l a n g u a g e as a d i v i n e e s s e n c e . As t h e v o i c e g i v e s body t o s p i r i t i n s p e e c h , so t h e word i s t h e " v e i l " o f t h e 26 w o r d ' s e s s e n c e . The p o i n t i s made h e r e i n t h e c o n t e x t o f a d e f i n i t i o n o f n o b i l i t y as a q u a l i t y c o m p r i s i n g v i r t u e and l e a r n i n g r a t h e r t h a n as 82 an i n h e r i t e d r i g h t : N o b l e s s e mesme g i s t en l a d o c t e v e r t u , N o b l e e s t l e s e u l S c a v a n t de l a v e r t u v e s t u . Non l ' o r n ' a n o b l i t p a s , ny l e s h o n n e u r s de r a c e : L'homme en luymesme d o i t en i m p r i m e r l a t r a c e P a r b o n t i s e u l e m e n t , l e b o n e s t n o b l e nom: Tourne NOBLE au r e b o u r s , t u t r o u v e r r a s LE BON. Voy combien ce b e a u nom c o n v i e n t b i e n a l a c h o s e ! Sous l e v o i l e du mot 1 ' e s s e n c e se r e p o s e . Vrayment l e s Noms c e r t a i n s ne s o n t p o i n t composes P a r o p i n i o n d'homme, e t p a r homme i m p o s e s : M a i s N a t u r e a cache" d e s s o u s l e u r s C a r a c t e r e s Ne s c a y q u e l l e v i g u e u r p l e i n e de g r a n s M y s t e r e s . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 72-73) The theme o f d i v e r s i t y o f p u r p o s e as b a s i s o f t h e s t r u c t u r e o f the body p o l i t i c i s e l a b o r a t e d f i r s t i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h e t r i p l e l i a i s o n o f c o u p l e s i n t h e f a m i l y : man and w i f e , p a r e n t and c h i l d , and m a s t e r and s e r v a n t . The f a m i l y s t r u c t u r e i s i t s e l f t h e model o f m u n i c i p a l , o f n a t i o n a l and o f i m p e r i a l g o v e r n m e n t , f o r a l l c o n f o r m t o t h e r a t i o n a l p r i n c i p l e o f o r d e r w h i c h r e q u i r e s t h a t t h e l o w e r be g o v e r n e d by t h e h i g h e r p o w e r . Once a g a i n r e a s o n , as i l l u s t r a t e d h e r e i n t h e s t r u c t u r e o f c i v i l i s e d s o c i e t y , s u p p o r t s U r a n i e ' s p r o o f o f a s u p e r i o r d i v i n i t y : B r e f N a t u r e c o n t r a i n t en r a i s o n n a t u r e l l e C o n f e s s e r t o u s humains e s t r e a s s e m b l e s p a r e l l e . E t l a R a i s o n c o n t r a i n t N a t u r e p a r s a l o y De c o n f e s s e r q u ' e l l e e s t p a r a u t r e que p a r s o y : M a i s c e s t u y - l a q u i e s t l a N a t u r e supreme P e u t d i r e q u ' i l e s t T o u t , e t U n - s e u l p a r soymeme. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 75) The F i f t h C i r c l e e x p l o r e s t h e cosmos f o r p r o o f o f G o d . I t i s opened by U r a n i e ' s d o u b l e d e f i n i t i o n o f N a t u r e as t h e d i v i n i t y i t s e l f and a l s o as h i s t o o l o r m o v i n g f o r c e , n a t u r a n a t u r a n s . N a t u r e assumes 83 a new d i v i n e d i m e n s i o n . I t i s no l o n g e r t h e f a t a l power o f t h e a n c i e n t s n o r i s i t a s e c o n d a r y f o r c e s u b s e r v i e n t t o t h e d i v i n e s p i r i t as i n t h e m e d i e v a l c o n c e p t . R a t h e r i t i s i d e n t i c a l w i t h t h a t s p i r i t c i r c u l a t i n g t h r o u g h t h e u n i v e r s e : L ' u n e N a t u r e e s t D i e u , m a i s e l l e e s t i n f i n i e . L ' a u t r e , s o n i n s t r u m e n t , e s t a i n s i d e f i n i e . C ' e s t l a f o r c e , e t v i g u e u r e p a r s e en l ' U n i v e r s , L a c a u s e du r e p o s , e t mouvemens d i v e r s . ^ ( E n c y c l i e , p . 75) T h i s d e f i n i t i o n i m p l i e s t h e c o n c e p t o f God as a t t h e same t i m e immanent and t r a n s c e n d e n t , f o r c r e a t i o n becomes a s e r i e s o f e m a n a t i o n s o f t h e i n f i n i t e Godhead t h r o u g h t h e c o n t e m p l a t i o n o f w h i c h man c a n a p p r o a c h G o d : C a r e l l e q u i e s t s i m p l e , e t s u b t i l e en ses f a i c t s , Cache s o n e x c e l l e n c e , e t s e s p r o p r e s e f f a i c t s (Au c o n t r a i r e de l ' A r t ) dedans chacune c h o s e , De s o r t e q u ' e l l e mesme e l l e s ' y e s t e n c l o s e . C ' e s t a f i n que l ' O u v r i e r q u i ne p e u t l i m i t e r Ses o u v r a g e s c o u v e r s , ne p u i s s e l ' i m i t e r : E t que a l ' o m b r a g e o b s c u r de s o n l u s t r e i l se m i r e , A f i n q u ' e n l ' a d m i r a n t , l ' A u t h e u r d ' e l l e i l a d m i r e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 7 6 ) 2 8 There i s a s u g g e s t i o n o f t h e m y s t i c s ' d e f i n i t i o n o f God as t h e c i r c l e whose c e n t r e i s e v e r y w h e r e and whose c i r c u m f e r e n c e i s i n f i n i t e : A u s s i l ' O u v r i e r p a r f a i c t , de q u i N a t u r e e s t l ' a r t , E s t e s t e n d u p a r t o u t e t c l o s en n u l l e p a r t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 77) The p e r f e c t i o n o f t h e c i r c l e and o f c i r c u l a r movement b o t h as s t a t i c f o r m and as dynamic o r d e r i s t h e b a s i s o f U r a n i e ' s argument f o r t h e e x i s t e n c e o f God m a n i f e s t i n t h e s p h e r e s o f t h e u n i v e r s e . The S e c r e t a r y ' s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s o f p a n t h e i s m and o f t e m p o r a l l i m i t a t i o n s i n t h e d e f i n i t i o n o f God / N a t u r e as immanent a r e f i r s t r e j e c t e d by 84 means o f a c o m p a r i s o n w i t h f r e e l y - m o v i n g t h o u g h t and t h e i m m o r t a l human s o u l n o t f e t t e r e d by t h e m a t e r i a l b o d y : Ton ame e n c l o t l e s C i e u s , e t des C i e u s e s t e n c l o s e ! P e u s - t u f a i r e c e l a , e t D i e u ne l e p e u t pas? E t p u i s q u ' e l l e [ l ' a m e ] a t t a i n t b i e n j u s q u ' a l ' E t e r n i t e ' , I I t e f a u t c o n f e s s e r une D i v i n i t d : Car s ' i l n ' e n e s t o i t p o i n t , t o n Ame t a n t i s n e l l e Ne p o u r r o i t c o n c e v o i r une E s s e n c e e t e r n e l l e . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 80-81) F u r t h e r m o r e , as i n t h e m e d i e v a l c o n c e p t , t h e w o r l d i s a f i n i t e , u n i f i e d summa; i t s u n i t y and i t s h a r m o n i o u s movement e x c l u d e t h e p o s s i b i l i t y o f a v o i d o r o f a p l u r a l i t y o f w o r l d s f o r t h e y i m p l y t h e p e r f e c t o r d e r c o n c e i v e d o f as e t e r n a l and i n f i n i t e : M a i s v o s t r e o e i l e s t t e s m o i n que dedans l ' u n i v e r s I I n ' y a r i e n c o n f u s , b i e n que t o u t s o i t d i v e r s . Or s i p a r c o n t u p o i s i c e u s [ d ' a u t r e s mondes] se t e n o i e n t fermes L o i n g e n t r e e u l s s e p a r e s dans l e V u i d e sans t e r m e s , Vrayment ce Monde i c y p a r f a i t en 1 ' U n i t e A . l ' e x e m p l e e t p a t r o n de c e s t e E t e r n i t e , Ne s e r o i t p l u s nomine" l e S i m u l a c r e d ' e l l e , E t e l l e ne s e r o i t du Monde l e M o d e l l e . M a i s comme i l n ' y a p o i n t p l u s d ' u n e E t e r n i t e , L a q u e l l e embrasse t o u t en s o n I n f i n i t e , E t q u i ne l a i s s e r i e n q u i s o i t p u r e n t e n d i b l e : A i n s i l e Monde e n c l o t t o u t e c h o s e s e n s i b l e . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 85-86) I t i s t h a t p e r f e c t i o n f i g u r e d f o r t h i n t h e c i r c u l a r f o r m o f t h e e a r t h and t h e c i r c u l a r movement o f t h e h e a v e n l y s p h e r e s w h i c h i s a t the same t i m e b o t h t h e e x p r e s s i o n and t h e p r o o f o f G o d ' s immanence and t r a n s c e n d e n c e : E t s i c e s t u n i v e r s e s t a p p e l i e l e B e a u , Le Monde, l ' O r n e m e n t , l u y s i e d pas l e Rondeau? Q u e l l e forme v o i s - t u p l u s p a r f a i c t e ny b e l l e , Que c e l l e q u i c o n t i e n t t o u t e a u t r e forme en e l l e ? 85 Neantmoins e n t r e t o u s , p a r s i m p l e e l e c t i o n U n i q u e e s t l a Rondeur b e l l e en p e r f e c t i o n . A u s s i e l l e a l e l i e u de l a Forme p r e m i e r e , E t s e u l e e l l e r e t i e n t s a b e a u t e c o u s t u m i e r e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 87) By i t s u n i t y as by i t s u n i q u e n e s s t h e c i r c l e r e p r e s e n t s God t h e c r e a t o r o f w h i c h t h e n a t u r a n a t u r a n s i s one a s p e c t . Thus by a p r e s e n t a t i o n o f p h y s i c s w h i c h i g n o r e s R e n a i s s a n c e s c i e n c e U r a n i e o f f e r s a " r e a s o n e d " p r o o f o f a God m a n i f e s t i n t h e u n i v e r s e . H i s immanence i n c r e a t i o n may be i n t e r p r e t e d n o t as pagan 29 p a n t h e i s m b u t as C h r i s t i a n p o l y p h o n y e c h o i n g t h e u n i v e r s a l ' harmony. From p h y s i c s U r a n i e p r o g r e s s e s t o m e t a p h y s i c s i n t h e S i x t h C i r c l e . Imagery must r e p l a c e d i s c u r s i v e r e a s o n i n g as t h e Muse e l u c i d a t e s t h e m y s t e r i e s o f e s s e n t i a l b e i n g . M a n ' s s p i r i t , w h i c h a c c o r d i n g t o a b e l i e f a s c r i b e d t o Z o r o a s t e r had b e e n d e p r i v e d o f i t s two w i n g s when i t assumed a m a t e r i a l b o d y , must be r e s t o r e d by a v i t a l f o r c e , " l ' e a u de v i e , " b e f o r e i t c a n r e g a i n i t s o r i g i n a l c l a r i t y : A i n s i que t o n E s p r i t s e s deus a i l e s p e r d i t A l o r s que du h a u t C i e l en T e r r e i l d e s c e n d i t Dedans t o n c o r p s de b o u e : a u s s i a v a n t , que d ' e s t r e J u s q u ' a u C i e l r e g u i n d i , i l f a l l o i t l a i s s e r c r o i s t r e L e s a i l e s d e r e c h e f , e t p o u r l e v o l o s e r C o n v i n t t e s a i l e r o n s d ' e a u de v i e a r r o u s e r , A f i n de r e c o u v r e r t o n asure" p l u m a g e , E t du t r a v a i l d ' a u t r u y r S p a r e r t o n dommage. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 99) C h r i s t ' s r e d e m p t i v e p o w e r , s u g g e s t e d by t h e " e a u de v i e " i s d e v e l o p e d i n t h e myth o f t h e p e l i c a n who: 86 . . . de s o n bee p o i n t u s ' e s t f e r u l a p o i t r i n e P o u r de s o n sang v e r m e i l p l e i n d'amour e t d o c t r i n e Vous r d d o n n e r l a v i e , e t f a i r e r e j e t t e r Un plumage nouveau a f i n de v o l e t e r . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 99-100) U r a n i e d e v e l o p s a s e r i e s o f images t o i l l u s t r a t e t h e a l l - p e n e t r a t i n g s p i r i t u a l f o r c e o f God e m a n a t i n g i n t h e c e l e s t i a l and t h e t e r r e s t r i a l w o r l d s and y e t t r a n s c e n d e n t o v e r them: P u i s q u ' i l demeure v r a y que l a g r a n d ' Ame s o i t Dedans e t h o r s l e Monde . . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 102) The r a y s o f t h e s u n a r e c o n s t a n t w i t n e s s t o t h e p r i n c i p l e o f immanence: Le S o l e i l , l e s e u l - O e i l q u i t o u t l e Monde g c l a i r e E l a n c e b i e n s e s r a i s p a r l a v e r r i n e c l a i r e , E t ne l a b r i s e p a s , p o u r q u o y d ' u n v u e i l m a l i n L ' E s p r i t b r i s e r o i t - i l s o n C e r c l e c r i s t a l i n ? ( E n c y c l i e , p . 101) The movement o f a i r i n o r g a n p i p e s , l i k e t h e e x p a n d i n g c i r c l e s o r " e n c y c l i e " c a u s e d by a s t o n e d r o p p e d i n w a t e r , i n d i c a t e t h e power o f a p r i m e mover w h i c h r e m a i n s s e p a r a t e f r o m i t s v a r i o u s m a n i f e s t a t i o n s , b o t h human and a n g e l i c , l i k e t h e God o f t h e m y s t i c s ' c i r c l e : A i n s i b i e n que du Coeur e t du C e n t r e du Monde L'Ame b o u i l l e , e t s o u r g e o n n e , e t s ' i n s p i r e a l a r o n d e Parmy l e s i n t e s t i n s e t membres du g r a n d C o r p s E m b o i t e s l ' u n dans 1 ' a u t r e , e t t o u s e n t r e eus r e t o r s : E t b i e n que m e i n t E s p r i t c h a n t o u r n e en s o n c o u v e r c l e Comme l a dormante eau peu a p e u , c e r c l e a c e r c l e , P a r l e j e t d ' u n c a i l l o u commence d ' o n d o y e r , E t de l a p l u s au l o i n g p l y s u r p l y d e p l o y e r : Ou comme du g o s i e r l a v o i s a r t i c u l e e E s t en l ' A i r s p a c i e u s au compas t o r t i l e e : Sans l ' a i d e t o u t e s f o i s d ' u n M o t e u r p l u s c a c h e , C e r c l e S p i r i t u e l a n u l Corps a t t a c h e Dont l e C e n t r e e s t p a r t o u t , e t l a C i r c o n f e r e n c e N ' e n e s t en l i e u q u i s o i t . . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 103-104) 87 I n s h o r t , l i n k i n g h e r two s u b j e c t s o f m a n ' s e s s e n t i a l n a t u r e and t h e n a t u r e o f t h e d i v i n e , U r a n i e a f f i r m s t h a t t h e m y s t e r y o f a n i m m a n e n t / t r a n s c e n d e n t God as t h e p r i n c i p l e o f b e i n g i n t h e macrocosm as i n t h e m i c r o c o s m i s a c c e s s i b l e t o t h e v i r t u o u s man i n so f a r as h i s s p i r i t i s r e s t o r e d t o i t s o r i g i n a l d i v i n e p u r i t y . I n L a B o d e r i e ' s v i s i o n o f a u n i v e r s e o r d e r e d by t h e d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e o f harmony, s u c h an a p p r e h e n s i o n o f d i v i n i t y i s a p p r o a c h e d t h r o u g h a r e c e p t i v i t y t o t h e c e l e s t i a l harmony o f t h e s p h e r e s w h i c h i s t o o r e f i n e d f o r man's s e n s o r y c a p a c i t i e s a l o n e : P r e s q u e en ce mesme p o i n t l ' E t e r n e l l e Pensee Du t o u t en t o u t sans l i e u , e t en l i e u d i s p e r s e e , F a i t s o u r d r e , b o u i l l o n n e r , se r e s p a n d r e , e t j a l i r L'Ame d o n t l e s o u r g e o n ne p e u t j a m a i s f a i l l i r : E t p e n e t r e , e t s ' i n f o n d l e P r i n c i p e des V i e s Aus S e r e i n e s q u i s o n t d e c a , de l a r a v i e s : 3 0 L e s S e r e i n e s , j e d i , Anges non o c i e u s Q u i g l i s s e n t t o u t a v a l des g r a n s V a s e s des C i e u s : E t q u i f o n t r e t e n t i r dedans l e s v o u t e s c r e u s e s Du T h e a t r e mondain m a i n t e s chansons n o m b r e u s e s . C a r l ' A m e , comme V o i s , des l a Scene s ' e p a n d ( J ' e n t e n du P o i n t c e n t r a l ) e t t o u r n o y e , en f r a p a n t L e s Ames de sous e l l e , en c e r c l e s e s t e n d u e s , Q u i r e s o n n e n t s i h a u t , e t ne s o n t e n t e n d u e s Q u ' e n t r e e l l e s s e u l e m e n t , e t l e s Hommes p u r g e z Du b r o u i l l e m e n t des S e n s , e t de c h a i r d e c h a r g e z . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 104-105) T h e o l o g y i t s e l f i s t h e s u b j e c t o f U r a n i e ' s e x p l a n a t i o n i n t h e S e v e n t h C i r c l e d e v o t e d t o " l e s M y s t e r e s c a c h e z au S a c r a i r e du T e m p l e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 0 5 ) . P e n e t r a t i o n o f t h e h i g h e s t o f t h e " s e c r e t s o f e t e r n i t y " r e q u i r e s o f t h e b e d a z z l e d S e c r e t a r y a v i s i o n c l e a r e r t h a n t h a t r e q u i r e d 88 f o r d i s c u r s i v e r e a s o n i n g : Tes r a i s s o n t S b l o u i s , o u v r e l ' o e i l , o u v r e l ' o e i l , E t f a y r e l u i r e en t o y l e l u s t r e du S o l e i l , Le m i r o i r des E s p r i t s , s o u r c e de beaute" p u r e , Dont l e S o l e i l mondain n ' e s t r i e n que 1'Ombre o b s c u r e : M a i s l e s p e c t a c l e beau de l a l u m i e r e immense E s t un s e c r e t ferme sous l a c l e f du s i l e n c e , Que t u ne peus o u v r i r , ny v o i r en s o n p r o f o n d L e s mouvemens d i v i n s q u i s o u r d e n t e t s ' y f o n t , ^ ^ T a n t que p r e m i e r e m e n t t ' a [ s i c ! veiie e g a l l i ^ e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 109) A c c o r d i n g l y U r a n i e ' s p r o t r a c t e d e x e g e s i s o f P l a t o ' s myth o f t h e Cave t e r m i n a t e s w i t h a c o m p a r i s o n o f t h r e e means t o u n d e r s t a n d i n g r e p r e s e n t e d by t h e t h r e e s u n s : by e m p i r i c a l o b s e r v a t i o n i n t h e n a t u r a l c o n t e x t ( " O m b r a g e " ) , by i d e a t i o n a l c o n c e p t i o n i n t h e r a t i o n a l c o n t e x t ( " I m a g e " ) , and by i l l u m i n a t i o n i n t h e s p i r i t u a l c o n t e x t ( " R e s p l e n d e u r " ) . U r a n i e ' s l y r i c a l i n v o c a t i o n t o t h e D e i t y , a d d r e s s e d as " O e i l i n f i n i " and " S o l e i l i m m e n s e , " i s a p r a y e r f o r i n s p i r a t i o n , " l e s r a i z de t a semence" ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 1 3 ) , i n o r d e r t h a t she may i l l u m i n a t e t h e s a c r e d m y s t e r y o f U n i t y i n t h e T r i n i t y , " l ' A m o u r , l ' A i m e , l ' A m a n t " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 1 5 ) . E l u c i d a t i o n o f t h e m y s t e r y o f t h e T r i n i t y f o l l o w s . To t h e S e c r e t a r y ' s e x p r e s s i o n o f a d o u b l e a s p e c t o f u n i t y s u p p o r t e d by a q u o t a t i o n f r o m P l a t o ' s P a r m e n i d e s , U r a n i e adds t h e c o n c e p t o f t h e m e d i a t i n g f o r c e : Le M o t e u r moyenneur, q u i e s t a d r o i t e v o y e Q u i de l a m u l t i t u d e a l ' U N s e u l nous c o n v o y e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 119) T h i s m e d i a t o r i s " l e m i r o i r de l ' A m e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 119) b u t i t i s a l s o a s s o c i a t e d w i t h C h r i s t t h e M e d i a t o r r e p r e s e n t e d as t h e " O e i l moyenneur" 89 o r t h e " L u n e e x e m p l a i r e " r e f l e c t i n g t h e s u n . I t i s a s s o c i a t e d f u r t h e r m o r e w i t h t h e W o r d , t h e " P a r o l l e . . . / Q u i e s t l ' O u t i l m o u v a n t , e t du Monde l e M o u l e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 1 4 ) . A T r i n i t y i s t h u s formed o f t h e I m m o b i l e , t h e M o v i n g and t h e M o v e d : T r o i s done f o n t l ' e n t r e t i e n : l ' u n e s t l a Masse m o r t e Q u i e s t meiie, e t ne m e u t : l ' a u t r e q u i l u y a p p o r t e Le mouvement r e g l £ , meut e t e s t meu a u s s i : E t l e T i e r s , n ' e s t meu, e t s i meut c e s t u y - c i . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 120) E n r a p t u r e d by h i s new v i s i o n , t h e S e c r e t a r y i n v o k e s a f u r t h e r i l l u m i n a t i o n o f t h e i n e f f a b l e G o d h e a d , t h e T e t r a g r a m m a t o n p r o n o u n c e a b l e o n l y s i n c e t h e a d v e n t o f C h r i s t . He a d d r e s s e s h i m s e l f t o C h r i s t t h e f i r s t - c r e a t e d L o g o s : 0 S a g e s s e ! 6 V e r t u q u ' e n s i l e n c e j ' a p p e l l e ! 0 L u m i e r e ! 6 Beaute" des b e a u t e s l a p l u s b e l l e Q u i f u t onques f o r m i e ! 6 V i e ! 6 V e r i t y ! 0 l a p r e m i e r e V o i s de l a D i v i n i t e ! . . . 6 alme S a p i e n c e : C a r i l t e p o s s e d o i t des l e commencement, Tu e s t o i s j a d e v a n t s e s Oeuvres l o n g u e m e n t . Done 6 Germe l u i s a n t , 6 1'Image du P e r e , 0 s o n c h e r N o u r r i s s o n , F i l l e de D i e u p r o s p e r e Ange du g r a n d c o n s e i l , l e f i d e l l e i n t e r p r e t e Du S i l e n c e d i v i n en p a r o l l e s e c r e t e . . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 120-124) The E i g h t h C i r c l e i s p r i n c i p a l l y a f i g u r a t i o n o f t h e " s e c r e t s o f e t e r n i t y " embodied s y m b o l i c a l l y i n t h e o r i g i n a l d i v i n e " s e c r e t " 32 r e v e l a t i o n o f t h e J e w i s h T a b e r n a c l e . P r e l i m i n a r y t o t h e e l u c i d a t i o n o f t h e m y s t e r i e s o f t h e 90 T a b e r n a c l e , U r a n i e d e s c r i b e s t h e way t o u l t i m a t e i l l u m i n a t i o n . F i r s t h a v i n g t h e S e c r e t a r y r e c a l l a d r e a m , " v i s i o n , o r a c l e e t songe p r o f e t i c " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 124) i n w h i c h he had s e e n the moon e c l i p s e d by t h e s u n i n t h e m i d d l e o f t h e n i g h t , U r a n i e e x p l a i n s t h e s y m b o l i c v a l u e o f t h e 33 s u n and t h e moon w i t h r e f e r e n c e t o m a n ' s u n d e r s t a n d i n g . The d a r k o f t h e moon i s man's s e n s o r y , e a r t h l y a s p e c t w h i c h i s i l l u m i n e d more o r l e s s by t h e t r a n s p a r e n t c l a r i t y o f the s u n - l i k e h i g h e s t Reason a c c o r d i n g t o h i s p r o g r e s s i o n f r o m v i r t u e t h r o u g h s p i r i t u a l l o v e t o f u l l u n i o n w i t h G o d : T o u t a i n s i l a PensSe a y a n t s a l i a i s o n E t s o n c e n t r e f i c h g au C i e l de l a R a i s o n , I l l u m i n e t o n Ame en un c e r c l e a r r o n d i e De l ' o m b r a g e du C o r p s t a c h d e , e t e n l a i d i e , E t l a v i e n t i l l u s t r e r de ses r a i s a l l u m C s , Comme de l o i n g ou p r e s de l ' A m e i l z s o n t humCs. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 126) Consummation o f t h e m y s t i c u n i o n r e q u i r e s f i r s t an e l e v a t i o n above t h e i n d i v i d u a l ' s b o d i l y d e s i r e s t o a r e s t o r a t i o n o f h i s s o u l ' s o r i g i n a l c l a r i t y and p u r i t y as p a r t i c i p a n t i n t h e d i v i n e : M a i s i l f a u t o u b l i e r t a p r o p r e v o l o n t e P o u r t e j o i n d r e a l a v r a y e e t u n i q u e B o n t £ , E t a f i n de p u i s e r l a l u m i e r e f g c o n d e Q u i t o u t homme i l l u m i n e a r r i v a n t en ce Monde. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 128) F o r t h e s o u l , l i k e t h e moon, i s a m i r r o r ; i n o r d e r t o r e f l e c t t h e d i v i n e l i g h t i t must be f r e e o f a l l e a r t h l y d e f i l e m e n t : A i n s i l e r o n d de l ' A m e e s t de l u m i e r e p l e i n , E t v a r e m i r e r D i e u j u s q u e s dedans s o n s e i n , E t p o u r y p a r v e n i r Amour en e s t l a r e g i e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 130) U l t i m a t e i l l u m i n a t i o n i s e f f e c t e d i n t h e s u r p a s s i n g l o v e p o r t r a y e d as 91 t h e m y s t i c d e a t h by t h e k i s s , t h e " r a v i s s e m e n t a l ' A m e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 129) o f t h e mors o s c u l i e x e m p l i f i e d i n M o s e s , C h r i s t , E l i j a h , t h e V i r g i n , P a u l and J o h n t h e A p o s t l e ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 2 9 - 1 3 0 ) . P e r f e c t l o v e i s t h u s t h e means o f r e b i r t h t h r o u g h C h r i s t t h e M e d i a t o r : E t b r i e f ce f e u d'Amour embrase au m i l i e u : D ' un E s p r i t e l e v e , l e t r a n s f o r m e en s o n D i e u , E t a l o r s s ' a c c o m p l i t l ' e f f e c t de l a p r i e r e , Que p o u r v o u s a d r e s s a 1'Amour mesme a s o n P e r e . 0 P e r e , d i s o i t i l , Q u ' i l z s o y e n t en moy f a i c t s un A i n s i q u ' a t o y e t moy en s e u l E s t r e e s t commun. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 131) G o d ' s p u r p o s e i s a c c o m p l i s h e d i n t h e c y c l i c a l r e b i r t h and r e t u r n o f t h e d i v i n e l y - g i v e n human s o u l t o u n i o n w i t h t h e d i v i n e : L ' U n , l e B o n , l ' E t e r n e l , l ' I m m o b i l , l ' l n f i n i , L e q u e l t ' a u r a t i r e , e t a v e c soy u n i . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 133) T h i s theme o f r e b i r t h and r e s t i t u t i o n i s f u n d a m e n t a l t o L a B o d e r i e ' s e n t i r e w o r k . Seen h e r e i n t h e c o n t e x t o f i n d i v i d u a l s a l v a t i o n , i t w i l l be d e v e l o p e d i n a h i s t o r i c a l c o n t e x t i n L a G a l l i a d e . K a b b a l i s t i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e i s t h e b a s i s f o r U r a n i e ' s f i g u r a t i o n o f t h e u n i v e r s e i n t h e r e m a i n d e r o f t h e E i g h t h C i r c l e . The s y m b o l i s m o f the T a b e r n a c l e c o n t a i n s many o f t h e m a j o r 34 themes w h i c h L a B o d e r i e a d o p t e d f r o m t h e K a b b a l a h . The e x p l a n a t i o n o f t h e s y m b o l i c v a l u e o f t h e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s bet ween t h e p l a n e s f r o m t h e d i v i n e t o t h e m i c r o c o s m i c enhances L a B o d e r i e ' s v i s i o n o f u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y , and i s t h u s c e n t r a l t o h i s C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s w h i c h s t r e s s e s t h e u n i t y o f t h e d i v i n e i n t h e m u l t i p l i c i t y o f c r e a t i o n . The s t r u c t u r e o f the macrocosm and o f t h e m i c r o c o s m a r e 92 p o r t r a y e d i n t h e T a b e r n a c l e as G o d , i n h i s o r i g i n a l r e v e l a t i o n t o M o s e s , d i r e c t e d t h a t i t s h o u l d be b u i l t as an image o f c r e a t i o n : Saches done p o u r c e r t a i n , s i t u en as d o u t e , . Que ce b e l Ornement, ce g r a n d Monde v o u t e , Mesme l e C o r p s h u m a i n , l e Temple a l ' a r c h e r o n d e , L ' A b r e g e du g r a n d T o u t , e t v r a y m e n t P e t i t Monde, Tant c e s t u y , que c e l u y , t a n t aus membres, q u ' a u C o r p s E t t a n t p a r l e d e d a n s , comme p a r l e d e h o r s , N ' e s t r i e n que l e P o r t r a i t du l u i s a n t T a b e r n a c l e , Ou l a g l o i r e de D i e u r e c e l e s o n O r a c l e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 134) The t h r e e w o r l d s , i n t e l l i g i b l e , c e l e s t i a l and t e r r e s t r i a l c a n t h u s be shown t o be l i n k e d w i t h e a c h o t h e r and w i t h man by a v a s t s y s t e m o f c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s . The c o n t i n u o u s e m a n a t i o n s o f t h e K a b b a l i s t S e p h i r o t h a r e l i n k e d t o t h e a s t r o l o g i c a l i n f l u e n c e s o f t h e p l a n e t s . I n them, as i n t h e K a b b a l i s t i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f s y m b o l s , numbers and names i s embodied an e s s e n t i a l t r u t h w h i c h t h o s e forms were d i v i n e l y i n t e n d e d t o v e i l f r o m t h e gaze o f t h e p r o f a n e . Thus t h e r e i s a danger o f t h e i r b e i n g u s e d f o r e m p i r i c a l o r m a g i c a l e n d s : E t vous t o u s q u i l i r e z l e s h a u t s Noms en ce l i v r e , G a r d e z , g a r d e z vous b i e n que ne v e n i e z e n s u i v r e P a r c u r i e u s e e r r e u r l e v i c e a u d a c i e u s Du magique S o r c i e r i m p o r t u n a n t l e s C i e u s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 152) U n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t h e t r u t h c o n t a i n e d i n t h e s y m b o l s must be a means o f k n o w i n g God who i s t h e s o u r c e o f a l l k n o w l e d g e : Q u ' a t o y sans p l u s j e s o i s d e q u e l s e u l j ' a y mon e s t r e , Que p o u r c o n g n o i s t r e t o u t j e t e p u i s s e c o n n o i s t r e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 155) E x p l a n a t i o n o f K a b b a l i s t i c m y s t e r i e s i s t h e r e f o r e a means o f p e n e t r a t i n g t h e m y s t e r i e s o f C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e and as s u c h i t i s u n d e r t a k e n i n t h i s w o r k o f a p o l o g e t i c s d e s i g n e d t o r e c a l l men b y 93 " r e a s o n " t o the t r u e f a i t h and i t s p r o m i s e o f r e d e m p t i o n and r e b i r t h : L a s ! l e s p r e m i e r s t a b l e a u s de l a Foy s o n t r o m p u s , Ou b i e n t a n t o b s c u r c i s , q u ' i l z en s o n t c o r r o m p u s , Du d e p u i s q u ' u n c h a s c u n s ' e s t f a i t un p r o p r e I d o l e : E t p o u r c e i l e s t b e s o i n g que d e r e c h e f on d o l e L e s T a b l e s de 1 ' E s p r i t , e t l e s f a u t a p l a n i r A f i n que l a R a i s o n p u i s s e a l a Foy s ' u n i r . J e dy v r a y e R a i s o n , e t v r a y e A u t h o r i t y , C a r comme D i e u e s t u n , une e s t l a V e r i t y . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 140-141) I n t h i s a s s i m i l a t i o n o f r e a s o n t o f a i t h t h e p r i n c i p a l theme i s t h a t o f m a n ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p t o t h e d i v i n i t y t h r o u g h C h r i s t t h e M e d i a t o r who has made i t p o s s i b l e f o r a l l men t o be i l l u m i n e d by t h e s e c r e t r e v e l a t i o n w h i c h had f o r m e r l y been a c c e s s i b l e o n l y t o h i g h p r i e s t s : M a i s l e s e u l F i l z q u i e s t dedans l e s e i n du P e r e E s t a n t v o l e c y bas du m i l i e u de s a S f e r e Sur l e s a i l e s d ' A m o u r , luy-meme a r e v e l e " Le P e r e , e t 1 ' E s p r i t s a i n t au p a r a v a n t v o i l g . C ' e s t l u y , c ' e s t l u y q u i f u t l e P r o p i c i a t o i r e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 142) U r a n i e ' s e x p l a n a t i o n s o f t h e s t r u c t u r e o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e and t h e meaning o f t h e C a n d e l a b r a ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 3 4 - 1 4 3 ) , h e r i l l u s t r a t i o n s o f t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f names, l e t t e r s and numbers, h e r e l u c i d a t i o n o f t h e s i g n i f i c a n c e o f t h e t e n S e p h i r o t h o r d i v i n e e m a n a t i o n s ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 4 3 - 1 4 5 ) , and h e r a n a l y s i s o f t h e s y m b o l i s m o f t h e h i g h p r i e s t ' s v e s t m e n t s and t h e Tetragrammaton ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 147-149) t o g e t h e r p r e s e n t t h e m a i n themes o f C h r i s t i a n K a b b a l i s m . The p o e t ' s p u r p o s e i n r e c o n c i l i n g K a b b a l i s t w i t h C h r i s t i a n themes i s e x p l i c i t l y s t a t e d i n t h e S e c r e t a r y ' s p r a y e r f o r d i v i n e s a n c t i o n f o r h i s a t t e m p t t o e f f e c t m o r a l r e f o r m and s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l b y means o f 94 t h e i n s i g h t s a f f o r d e d by " D i v i n e R a i s o n " i n an age o f r e l i g i o u s c o n f l i c t : Que j ' a n n o n c e au Repos que j a l e s f l o t z i r e z Q u i c o u v r o y e n t l e s h a u l t s mons, s o n t un peu r e t i r e z . J a du c h e f des humains l ' e a u des v a i n e s perisees Se s e c h e peu a p e u , des s e c t e s i n s e n s e e s Le D e l u g e se p e r d , l a D i v i n e R a i s o n De l a T e r r e e t du C i e l r e f a i t l a l i a i s o n . V i e n e l e S e r a f i n , e t d ' u n c h a r b o n me t o u c h e , A f i n de n e t t o y e r e t ma l a n g u e , e t ma b o u c h e , E t q u ' i l me s o i t p e r m i s en ce j o u r s o l e n n e l P r o n o n c e r l e g r a n d Nom du g r a n d D i e u E t e r n e l . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 151-152) S t r e s s i n g t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h , w h a t e v e r t h e f o r m i n w h i c h i t has been d i v i n e l y v e i l e d , L a B o d e r i e ' s " S e c r e t a r y " a d d r e s s e s God i n h i s f i n a l i n v o c a t i o n , f i r s t as t h e t r a n s c e n d e n t C h r i s t i a n T r i n i t y m a n i f e s t i n c r e a t i o n : 0. D i e u T o u t - b o n , T o u t - g r a n d , E t e r n e l , I n f i n i , C r e a t e u r T r i p l e - e n - u n du T r i p l e - m o n d e u n i , Q u i du Throne h a u t a i n de g l o i r e e t d ' e x c e l l e n c e Avecques l e g r a n d O e i l de t a g r a n d P r o v i d e n c e Gouvernes t o u t e c h o s e , e t d o n n e s , e t d e p a r s E s t r e , V i e , e t R a i s o n au Tout e t a s e s p a r s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 153) He t h e n p r a i s e s God i n a l i t a n y o f the d i v i n e names a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e K a b b a l i s t S e p h i r o t h i n w h i c h he emanates c o n t i n u o u s l y t h r o u g h o u t c r e a t i o n . The S e p h i r o t h a r e l i k e n e d t o t h e " g a r m e n t " o f t h e d i v i n e f o r m , as t h e word i s t h e " g a r m e n t " t o body f o r t h an i d e a : L e s d i x l u y s a n t s H a b i t s comme 6 c l a i r f o u d r o y a n t Dond s e v e s t i t j a d i s 1 ' E t e r n e l t o u t - v o y a n t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 144) C o n v i n c e d o f t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h , L a B o d e r i e makes h i s " S e c r e t a r y " spokesman f o r h i s own p u r p o s e , as C h r i s t i a n p o e t , o f s e e k i n g o u t t h e " s e c r e t s " h i d d e n u n d e r t h e many v e i l s o f d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n : 95 Tu as d i t t o u t e s f o i s , V e r i t e p e r e n n e l l e , Que c e s t e - l a sans p l u s e s t l a V i e e t e r n e l l e , Te c o n g n o i s t r e v r a y D i e u , e t p a r t o n mesme E s p r i t C e l u y q u ' a s envoye au monde J e s u - C h r i s t . Fay done que t o n r a y o n v i e n e dans moy d e p e i n d r e Tes t r o i s F a c e s , a u t a n t que l'homme en p e u t a t t e i n d r e , A f i n que d e s c e n d a n t de t o y , en t o y , p a r t o y , P a r t o u t t e voye e m p r e i n t Grand P r e s t r e , J u g e , e t R o y . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 5 6 ) 3 5 The s e n s e f o r L a B o d e r i e o f t h e p i g r a p h t o t h e E n c y c l i e , c h o s e n f r o m t h e Book o f P r o v e r b s , X X V , 1 1 , i s t h u s c l a r i f i e d . D i v i n e t r u t h , one and e t e r n a l , i s r e p r e s e n t e d b y t h e "pommes d ' o r " h i d d e n u n d e r t h e " t r e i l l e s d ' a r g e n t " o f t h e d i v e r s e f i g u r a t i v e r e v e l a t i o n s o f " p o e t i c t h e o l o g y . L a B o d e r i e was n e v e r t o c o m p l e t e h i s e x p o s i t i o n o f C h u r c h d o c t r i n e i n c i r c l i n g b a c k t o e a r t h f r o m t h e F i r s t C a u s e , as he had announced i n t h e p r e f a c e ( E n c y c l i e , p . 7 ) . The E i g h t h C i r c l e marked " F i n de l a p r e m i e r e p a r t i e de 1 ' E n c y c l i e " i s t h e r e f o r e t h e end o f t h i s w o r k . Some two h u n d r e d pages o f v e r s e c o m p l e t e t h e p u b l i c a t i o n . Many o f t h e s e a r e c i r c u m s t a n t i a l p i e c e s d e d i c a t e d t o f i g u r e s o f t h e C o u r t o r , more o f t e n , t o f r i e n d s o f L a B o d e r i e . D e v i c e s i n t h e s t y l e o f t h e Grands R h e t o r i q u e u r s d e c o r a t e t h e i r p r a i s e s o r c o n s o l a t i o n s o r l a y s e r m o n i s i n g w h i c h a r e o f m i n o r i n t e r e s t f o r t h e p r e s e n t s t u d y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n t r i b u t i o n t o F r e n c h p o e t r y . Two o f t h e s e s o n n e t s c l a i m a t t e n t i o n i n t h a t t h e i r r e w o r k i n g o f K a b b a l i s t i c themes seems t o evoke L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c f i r e . " A B a r t h e l e m i G r i v e a u M e d i c i n " t r e a t s o f t r u e s p i r i t u a l l o v e . The p r i n c i p l e o r e s s e n c e i t s e l f i s , a c c o r d i n g t o K a b b a l i s t t h e o r i e s , embodied 96 i n t h e Hebrew w o r d , f o r Hebrew was t h e embodiment o f t h e o r i g i n a l d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n . F u r t h e r m o r e , i n t h i s s o n n e t l o v e becomes t h e p r i n c i p l e o f r e n e w a l and r e b i r t h i n t h e p e r f e c t c i r c l e whose f o r m and movement s y m b o l i s e a l w a y s f o r L a B o d e r i e t h e d i v i n e l y o r d a i n e d u n i v e r s a l harmony: 0 que l e nom d'Amour en l a l a n g u e p r e m i e r e E s t un nom amoureus! 6 qu'amoureusement Sa n a t u r e amyable i l sonne h e u r e u s e m e n t ! L ' A m o u r MERE DU F E U , e t DE LUMIERE MERE. L ' A m a n t , l ' A y m e , 1 ' A m o u r , T r i n i t e de L u m i e r e F u t c e l l e q u i c r e a des l e commencement T o u t ce q u ' o n p e u t aymer, a f i n t a n t s e u l e m e n t D ' e s t r e e l l e mesme aymee e t p r e m i e r e e t d e r n i g r e . L ' A m o u r du g r a n d Amy s i bas l e f e i s t d e s c e n d r e P o u r l ' e n n e m y d'Amour a 1'Amour amy r e n d r e : L ' A m o u r l ' A m e r a v i t , e t l ' A m e ne s e j o u r n e Tant qu'Amour l a t r a n s f o r m e en s a p r o p r e s p l e n d e u r : A i n s i l e d i v i n c e n t r e a t t i r a n t s a r o n d e u r Le bon C e r c l e d'Amour du b i e n au b i e n r e t o u r n e . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 2 5 0 - 2 5 1 ) 3 7 The s o n n e t " A J e a n D o r a t p o e t e du Roy T r e s c h r e s t i e n " e x e m p l i f i e s L a B o d e r i e ' s r e v e r e n c e f o r l e a r n i n g as a p r i m e q u a l i t y o f t h e p o e t " d o c t e e t v e r t u e u x . " A g a i n , t o o , he f i n d s i n D o r a t ' s name i t s e l f c o n f i r m a t i o n o f h i s e s s e n t i a l power o f i l l u m i n a t i o n : Ce n ' e s t pas sans r a i s o n que t u s o i s h o n o r g Comme R o y a l p o e t e , e t p r e m i e r p r i n c e en F r a n c e Sur t a n t de beaus E s p r i t s que t o n R o n s a r d d e v a n c e , E t que t o n beau nom s o i t de t o u s p r e s q u e a d o r £ : C a r e t t o n nom e s t d ' o r , e t t a Muse d o r £ e M a i s de l ' O r beaucoup p l u s a t o n Ame g p u r d e , S i i ' o s e b i e n m e s l e r a mon F r a n c o i s l ' H e b r i e u . C a r l a L u m i e r e e s t O r , a u s s i d i s o i t P i n d a r e Que l ' O r e s t comme un f e u q u i s e r t l a n u i t d ' u n F a r e , Comme l ' O r de t o n nom r a y o n n e en c h a s c u n l i e u . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 251) S e v e r a l o t h e r r e p r e s e n t a t i v e p i e c e s have a t h e m a t i c i n t e r e s t . 97 B e s i d e s t h e " C a n t i q u e . . . aus p o e t e s de s o n t e m p s " t h e s e i n c l u d e a L a t i n poem, s e v e r a l s o n n e t s and some t r a n s l a t i o n s i n w h i c h L a B o d e r i e s e t s f o r t h a g a i n h i s c o n c e p t o f the r o l e o f t h e p o e t as i n t e r p r e t e r o f G o d ' s r e v e l a t i o n and shows h i s own c l o s e dependence i n t h i s r o l e on t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a . I n r e a c t i o n t o t h e f r i v o l i t y o f much o f t h e v e r s e i n h i s age o f r e l i g i o u s t u r b u l e n c e , L a B o d e r i e c r i t i c i z e s r e p e a t e d l y t h e c l a s s i c a l h e r i t a g e on w h i c h t h e P 1 6 i a d e p o e t s and t h e i r e p i g o n i had d r a w n . N o t o n l y were s u c h p o e t s ' p r o d u c t i o n s " v a i n " i n t h e i r e m p h a s i s on t h e theme o f e a r t h l y l o v e b u t a l s o t h e y r i s k e d d i v e r t i n g t h e i r r e a d e r s f r o m t r u e u n d e r s t a n d i n g i n so f a r as t h e i r i m a g e r y r e f l e c t e d t h e p o l y t h e i s t i c 39 p a n t h e o n o f t h e " f a u s G r e g e o i s . " I n " A u s P o e t e s F a b u l e u s , " f o r e x a m p l e , L a B o d e r i e condemns t h i s p r a c t i c e : C ' e s t t r o p l o n g temps s u i v y d ' u n A v e u g l e l a t r a c e , P o e t e s a v e u g l e z : de Lede l e s deus o e u f s Germez d ' u n f a u s DCmon avecques l e u r s f a u s D i e u s Ont e c l o s e t couvC des mensonges l a r a c e . C h a s s o n t o u s l e s Demons du g r a n d H a r p e u r de T h r a c e Que l u i mesme c h a s s a p o u r l e D i e u des H e b r i e u s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 311) A s o n n e t t o t h e Norman p o e t J e a n V a u q u e l i n i m p l i e s t h i s a t t i t u d e , as w e l l as L a B o d e r i e ' s deep m i s t r u s t o f a r t i f i c e w h i c h he q u a l i f i e s as " f a r d G r e g e o i s " : L a i s s o n s , mon V a u q u e l i n , ces v a i n e s P o e s i e s Q u i en noz Junes ans nous o n t t a n t d e l e c t e ; L a i s s o n s ce f a r d G r e g e o i s , ce p a r l e r a f f e c t e , E t du v i e l A s c r e a n l e s f a b l e s j a m o i s i e . Q u i t o n s du f o l Amour l e s f e i n t e s c o u r t o i s i e s , E t ne v a n t o n s l e s g r a n s q u i ne l ' o n t m e r i t e ; M a i s c e l e b r o n de D i e u l a p u r e v e r i t e , E n s u y v a n t des n e u f C i e u s l e s n e u f Muses c h b i s i e s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 248) 98 L a B o d e r i e i s more i m p a s s i o n e d i n d e f e n c e o f h i s own w o r k , i n a s o n n e t a d d r e s s e d t o " M e s s i r e Rene de V o y e r . . . Sur 1 ' E n c y c l i e de G . l e F e v r e de l a B o d e r i e " : Q u ' o n l a i s s e l e c a q u e t des b a b i l l a r d e s S e u r s , L e u r s r i v e s , l e u r s s e n t i e r s , e t l e u r c r o p p e g e m e l l e , Q u i d ' u n £ m a i l d i v e r s nos E s p r i s e n s o r c e l l e Sous ombre de c e u i l l i r l e s P o e t i q u e s f l e u r s : Q u ' o n n ' a i l l e m e n d i e r l e s T r o i e n n e s f u r e u r s Q u i b l e m i s s o y e n t l e f r o n t de l a f o l l e P u c e l l e , Q u ' o n ne d e s c r i v e p l u s une f e i n t e q u e r e l l e D ' u n M a r s , d ' u n e P a l l a s l e s T r a g i q u e s h o r r e u r s : Soyent des Chams E l y s e z l e s f o r e s t s o u b l i e e s , E t l e s b o u r b e s d ' E n f e r p a r n e u f f o i s r e p l i C e s : Q u ' o n c h e r c h e s e u l e m e n t l e s m y s t C r e s de D i e u , Que l e F e v r e , q u i n ' e s t i g n o r a n t l ' H e b r a i q u e , A r a b i c , S y r i e n , L a t i n , n i C h a l d a i q u e , F r a n c o i s nous a c e r c l C s en l a Langue du l i e u . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 157) The t e s t i m o n y o f J e a n D o r a t i n h i s L a t i n v e r s e on t h e E n c y c l i e s u p p o r t s L a B o d e r i e ' s b e l i e f i n the u n i t y o f t r u t h as f o u n d i n t h e c o m p o s i t e t r a d i t i o n o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , e s p e c i a l l y L a B o d e r i e ' s c h o s e n a n t e c e d e n t s , Orpheus and D a v i d : D i v i n i s f l u x i t d i v i n a P o e s i s H e b r a e i s F o n t i b u s ; Orpheus q u o d , quodque S i b y l l a p r o b a t . Nam taceam u t f a l s a s G r a e c a de g e n t e S i b y l l a s , Una D e i v e r i n u n t i a v e r a f u i t . Quo f i t u t e t s a c r i s non d i s s o n a m u l t a l o q u a t u r F a b r i c i u s d o c t i s quod p r o b a t E n c y c l i i s . F a b r i c i u s G r a e c a , s i m u l e t p e r f e c t u s H e b r a e a A r t e : Qui bus j u n x i t nunc u t r i u s q u e l y r a m . Orpheus u t iam f i t D a v i d , f i t D a v i d e t O r p h e u s : D a v i d i s a t q u e O r p h e i f i t l y r a F a b r i c i a . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 156-157) S e v e r a l t r a n s l a t i o n s and i m i t a t i o n s i n d i c a t e L a B o d e r i e ' s d e b t t o t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i and t o t h e G r e e k p a t r i s t i c w r i t e r s f o r themes s y n t h e s i z e d i n t h e E n c y c l i e . 99 F o r e x a m p l e , i n t h e O r p h i c "Hymne de l a N a t u r e " L a B o d e r i e r e c a l l s t h e d i v i n i t y o f N a t u r e as he had d e f i n e d i t i n t h e E n c y c l i e . I n t h i s i m i t a t i o n , N a t u r e c a n be s e e n t o assume e v e n some o f t h e a s p e c t s o f C h r i s t t h e f i r s t - c r e a t e d " S a g e s s e " as p r i n c i p l e o f c r e a t i o n r e l a t e d b o t h t o t h e P l a t o n i c w o r l d s o u l and t o t h e t e n t h K a b b a l i s t i c S e p h i r a o f A d o n a i , M a c l u t h o r " l e R e g n e " : 0 l a mere de t o u s , 6 Deesse N a t u r e , Mere a r t i f i c i e l l e , e t donnant g d n i t u r e , P r o d u i s a n t e b e a u c o u p , h o n o r a b l e , D£mon Q u i Royne t o u t - d o n t a n t e t i n d o n t g e as nom, G o u v e r n a n t e a v i s £ e , e t en t o u s l i e u s l u i s a n t e , L a Regente de t o u s , h o n o r g e , e x c e l l e n t e , E t p l u s d i g n e que t o u s , non corrumpue au c o u r s , L a p r e m i e r e e n g e n d r £ e , a n c i e n n e des j o u r s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 275) A s i m i l a r c o n c e p t o f t h e c r e a t i v e Word i s f o u n d i n " L e Serment ou Veu en forme de s e r m e n t " o f G r e g o r y t h e N a z a r e n e : 0 L u m i g r e du P e r e , 6 l e V e r b e c o n c e u De l a grande P e n s e e , ample Rayon i s s u Du s o u r g e o n de L u m i e r e , 6 P a r o l l e 6 t e r n e l l e E x c § d a n t t o u t p a r l e r , Semblance p e r e n n e l l e E t s p l e n d e u r de c e l u y q u i s e u l r e s s e m b l e a s o y : Donnant e s s e n c e e t v i e a t o u t ce q u i se f o n d e Sous l a v o u t e du C i e l , l ' O u v r i e r g r a n d e t p a r f a i t De ce q u i f u t , q u i e s t , o u q u i d o i t e s t r e f a i t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 306) The N e o - P l a t o n i s t t r a d i t i o n i s r e p r e s e n t e d by P o r p h y r y , i n whose w o r k , t r a n s l a t e d by L a B o d e r i e under t h e t i t l e , " O r a c l e d ' A p o l l o n " i s f o u n d a m o n o t h e i s t i c t r a n s c e n d e n t God who encompasses m u l t i p l i c i t y i n h i s h a r m o n i z i n g u n i t y s y m b o l i s e d by t h e c i r c l e : . . . Forme t o u t - f o r m a n t , Ame, E s p r i t , A r m o n i e , e t Nombre t o u t - f e r m a n t . Sur l e C i e l d i l a t e " en s a S f § r e pendue 100 R e l u i t une s p l e n d e u r , e t 1'immense e s t e n d u e De l ' a l m e E t e r n i t e " , e t e s t l e P e r e g r a n d E n t r e l e s b i e n - h e u r e u s t e l que t o u t i l c o m p r a n d , E t de n u l e s t c o m p r i s , du t o u t i n e s t i m a b l e En ses c o n s e i l s p r o f o n s , s i de l a g r a c e aymable Luyme"me ne se donne en c o n s e i l p u r e t n u , E t s ' i l ne se reve"le a f i n d ' e s t r e c o n n u . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 328) I n L ' E n c y c l i e L a B o d e r i e t h u s a p p e a r s p r i m a r i l y as a l a t e f o l l o w e r o f t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s y n c r e t i s t t r a d i t i o n , b r i n g i n g t o h i s C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s a r i c h s t o r e o f themes c u l l e d more f r o m t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i , p r i n c i p a l l y t h e J e w i s h K a b b a l a h , t h a n f r o m the s t r i c t l y o r t h o d o x C h r u c h d o c t r i n e . H i s c o n s c i o u s d e s i r e t o c o n f o r m t o t h a t d o c t r i n e i n o r d e r t o " p r o f f i t e r au p e u p l e de F r a n c e " by s h o w i n g them t h e way f r o m c i v i l chaos t o p e a c e f u l harmony i s however c l e a r . I t i s i n f a c t t h e a s s o c i a t e d w i s h t o g i v e a new d i r e c t i o n t o F r e n c h p o e t r y w h i c h prompts h i s own work and w h i c h i s t h e most o r i g i n a l 40 c o n t r i b u t i o n o f t h e E n c y c l i e . T h a t d e s i r e i s made e x p l i c i t i n h i s a p o s t r o p h e s t o o t h e r p o e t s t o f o r e g o t h e r e w a r d s o f p o e t r y w h i c h was t o h i s v i e w a t b e s t m e r e l y d e l i g h t f u l and a t w o r s t b l a s p h e m o u s and o v e r l y a r t i f i c i a l , i n o r d e r t o g a i n t r u e i m m o r t a l i t y t h r o u g h v e r s e w h i c h w o u l d s e r v e a u s e f u l r e l i g i o u s and s p i r i t u a l p u r p o s e . I t w o u l d seem t h a t f o r L a B o d e r i e a r t i s t i c i m m o r t a l i t y had t o cede t o s p i r i t u a l 41 i m m o r t a l i t y . A n a l y s i s o f t h e E n c y c l i e as a w h o l e has shown t h a t i t c a n be c l a s s i f i e d as an example n e i t h e r o f s c i e n t i f i c r a t i o n a l i s m n o r o f d e v o t i o n a l l y r i c i s m . I t i s r a t h e r i n t h e A u g u s t i n i a n t r a d i t i o n o f 101 r e a s o n p r i z e d n o t f o r i t s own s a k e b u t f o r c l a r i f i c a t i o n o f b e l i e f . The d i d a c t i c i n t e n t o f t h e E n c y c l i e may be compared t o t h a t w h i c h may have m o t i v a t e d L a B o d e r i e t o t r a n s l a t e C i c e r o ' s De deorum n a t u r a , a s s u r e d as he was t h a t r a t i o n a l i s t s ' arguments c o u l d be e f f e c t i v e l y r e f u t e d 42 by r e a s o n . The t h e m a t i c b u r d e n o f t h e w o r k , h o w e v e r , demands an a c c e p t a n c e o f i t s h e r m e t i c and e v e n g n o s t i c e l e m e n t as f u n d a m e n t a l b o t h t o i t s argument and t o i t s p o e t i c q u a l i t y . L a B o d e r i e ' s p r i m a r y v i s i o n i s t h a t o f a w o r l d whose c o m p l e x i t i e s and c o n t r a d i c t i o n s c a n be a n a l y s e d b y r e a s o n b u t c a n be u l t i m a t e l y u n d e r s t o o d o n l y i n an e c s t a t i c s y n e s t h e s i a o f l i g h t and h a r m o n y . The a p p r o a c h t o f i n a l u n d e r s t a n d i n g i s t h r o u g h t h a t o f t h e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s between d i v i n e m a n i f e s t a t i o n s t h r o u g h o u t t h e u n i v e r s e and i n man t h e m i c r o c o s m . L a B o d e r i e d e l i g h t s i n e l a b o r a t i n g t h e m u l t i p l e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s w h i c h e n r i c h t h e m a t e r i a l and c e l e s t i a l w o r l d s by t h e i r i n t i m a t i o n s o f t h e d i v i n e . P a r t a k i n g o f P l a t o n i c i d e a l i s m and o f t h e g n o s t i c i s m common t o t h e e a r l y C h u r c h F a t h e r s and t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a e s t a b l i s h e d i n H e l l e n i s t i c t i m e s , L a B o d e r i e ' s s y n c r e t i s t i c t h o u g h t i s f i n a l l y e x p r e s s e d 43 i n t h i s work t h r o u g h t h e " s y m b o l i s m e f l a m b o y a n t 1 o f t h e K a b b a l a h . I n so f a r as i t s u g g e s t s m u l t i v a l e n t r e l a t i o n s h i p s i n a " C h r i s t i a n 44 p o e t i c s o f k a l e i d o s c o p i c t r a n s f o r m a t i o n o f s y m b o l s " L a B o d e r i e ' s i s a p o e t i c r a t h e r t h a n a s c i e n t i f i c v i s i o n o f u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y . We hope t o have shown i n t h e f o r e g o i n g a n a l y s i s o f t h e E n c y c l i e t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s work r e p r e s e n t s a u n i q u e s y n c r e t i z a t i o n o f N e o - P l a t o n i s t and K a b b a l i s t i c n o t i o n s i n t h e s e r v i c e o f p o s t - T r i d e n t i n e 102 C a t h o l i c a p o l o g e t i c s . A l t h o u g h he s t a t e d t h a t he w i s h e s t o p e r s u a d e t h e " d e v o y e z , " f r e e - t h i n k e r s and R e f o r m i s t s o f h i s d a y , by r e a s o n e d argument a l o n e , L a B o d e r i e n e v e r t h e l e s s p r o c e e d s by way o f h i s muse U r a n i e ' s u s e o f e x p l a n a t i o n s drawn f r o m t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , t o p r o v e t h a t t h e r e i s one t r u t h o n l y , however v a r i o u s l y i t may have b e e n c o n c e a l e d b y t h e " v e i l s " u n d e r w h i c h d i v e r s e r e l i g i o u s t r a d i t i o n s have b o t h c o n c e a l e d i t f r o m t h e p r o f a n e and r e v e a l e d i t t o t h e i n i t i a t e . Thus he p r o p o s e s t o p r e s e n t t h a t t r u t h , t h e "pommes d ' o r " c o n c e a l e d under " t r e i l l e s d ' a r g e n t " o f h i s e p i g r a p h f r o m t h e Book o f P r o v e r b s , XXV, 1 1 , n o t by r e a s o n b u t r a t h e r by r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f t h e s y m b o l i c v a l u e s o f t h e d i v e r s e v e i l s . I n t h e E n c y c l i e t h e p o e t r e l i e s p r i m a r i l y on t h e F i c i n i a n N e o - P l a t o n i s t t r a d i t i o n . He a d o p t s n o t a b l y t h e c o n c e p t s o f t h e w o r l d s o u l and o f man's r e m i n i s c e n c e o f i n n a t e i d e a s t o a C h r i s t i a n e x p l a n a t i o n o f c r e a t i o n and o f man's p l a c e i n i t . H i s p o e t i c t h e o l o g y a c c e p t s t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t h i e r a r c h y o f k n o w l e d g e a s c e n d i n g f r o m t h e s e n s o r y t h r o u g h t h e d i s c u r s i v e r a t i o n a l t o t h e i n t u i t i v e . Thus i n t h e E n c y c l i e t h e h i g h e s t p l a c e i s g i v e n t o t h e e c s t a t i c v i s i o n o f t h e C h r i s t i a n s a i n t s , a v i s i o n b a s e d on l o v e and a s s o c i a t e d h e r e w i t h t h e mors o s c u l i o f t h e K a b b a l i s t t r a d i t i o n . We hope t o have shown t h a t i n L a B o d e r i e ' s e s s e n t i a l l y m y s t i c a l a p p r o a c h t o a p o l o g e t i c s t h e f i n a l e l a b o r a t i o n o f t h e s y m b o l i c v a l u e s o f t h e K a b b a l i s t themes o f t h e t e m p l e and o f t h e names o f God i s c o n s i s t e n t w i t h h i s s t a t e d p u r p o s e o f s e r v i n g h i s c o m p a t r i o t s i n a t i m e o f c i v i l and r e l i g i o u s s t r i f e by i l l u s t r a t i n g f o r them t h e f u n d a m e n t a l 103 u n i t y o f t r u t h . I n t h e p r e s e n t work we hope t o have shown f u r t h e r t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s p u r p o s e as a p o e t , w h i c h i s l a r g e l y i m p l i c i t i n t h e E n c y c l i e i s made e x p l i c i t i n s e v e r a l s h o r t e r p i e c e s p u b l i s h e d w i t h t h e E n c y c l i e N e a r l y a decade b e f o r e t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h e f i r s t n o t a b l e w o r k s o f C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m s u c h as Du B a r t a s ' Semaine o r t h e Muse c h r e s t i e n n e , L a B o d e r i e was c a l l i n g f o r a s p i r i t u a l o r i e n t a t i o n o f s e r i o u s p o e t r y o f w h i c h h e , l i k e t h e p o e t - p r i e s t s Orpheus and D a v i d , hoped t o g i v e t h e e x a m p l e . \ 104 B . LA G A L L I A D E , OU DE LA REVOLUTION DES ARTS ET SCIENCES The i m p o r t a n c e a t t r i b u t e d by h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s t o L a B o d e r i e ' s p u b l i c a t i o n o f L a G a l l i a d e , ou De l a r e v o l u t i o n des a r t s e t s c i e n c e s 45 (1578) i s a t t e s t e d b y t h e l a u d a t o r y v e r s e s w h i c h p r e c e d e t h e w o r k . 46 Of t h e s e t h e most n o t a b l e a r e L a t i n v e r s e b y J e a n D o r a t , s i g n e d " J o h a n n e s A u r a t u s P o e t a R e g i u s , " L a t i n v e r s e by C h a r l e s T o u s t a i n , a n o t h e r Norman d i s c i p l e o f P o s t e l l i a n p r o p h e t i c s , odes by L a B o d e r i e ' s b r o t h e r N i c o l a s , t h e l i n g u i s t and t r a n s l a t o r o f P i c o ' s H e p t a p l u s and h i s b r o t h e r A n t h o i n e , t h e d i p l o m a t , s i g n e d w i t h anagrams o f t h e i r r e s p e c t i v e names, " L ( E ) SCERAFIN VOLE" and " E N ( L U I ) HANTE O R F E E ; " and a s o n n e t s i g n e d " H e n r y B e l l i n . . . H i s t o r i o g r a f e e t P o e t e du Roy C a t h o l i q u e . " L a B o d e r i e i s p r a i s e d above a l l f o r h i s l e a r n i n g ; h i s p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h t h e h a r m o n i s i n g image o f t h e c i r c l e i s r e c a l l e d , as i s h i s c l a i m t o renew t h e powers o f D a v i d and Orpheus and t h e a n a g r a m m a t i c a l l y evoked " F E U V E R G I L E ; " and t h e n a t i o n a l i s t s p i r i t o f t h e G a l l i a d e i s e m p h a s i z e d b y D o r a t ' s i n t r o d u c t o r y , " Q u i d non c o g i t amor p a t r i a e ? " and B e l l i n ' s r e f e r e n c e t o " F r a n c e mere des a r t s . " L a G a l l i a d e i t s e l f i s however l e s s a n a t i o n a l h i s t o r y t h a n a u n i v e r s a l h i s t o r i c a l - p r o p h e t i c work w h i c h p r o c l a i m s F r a n c e t o be b o t h 105 t h e o r i g i n a l home o f t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s and t h e c e n t r e o f t h e i r u l t i m a t e p e r f e c t i o n o r c o n s u m m a t i o n . Thus t h e w o r k c a n be s e e n i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h e l a t e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y a c c e n t u a t i o n o f i n t e r e s t i n b o t h 47 n a t i o n a l and O l d Testament h i s t o r i e s . But i t s h o u l d i n no way be c o n s i d e r e d a n a l o g o u s t o R o n s a r d ' s F r a n c i a d e , as L a B o d e r i e ' s e x p l i c a t i o n o f t h e t i t l e makes c l e a r . I n h i s p r e f a t o r y " A d v e r t i s s e m e n t aux l e c t e u r s " t h e a u t h o r d i s d a i n s t h e c l a s s i c a l e p i c t r a d i t i o n , t h e " I l i a d e s , E n e i d e s , e t a u t r e s t e l s Po'emes e t i n v e n t i o n s empruntees de f a b l e s m o i s i e s des G r e c s , ou des v i e u x R o m a n s . " H i s p u r p o s e i s n o t " l a d e l e c t a t i o n , e t l a v r a y - s e m b l a n c e " b u t r a t h e r " l ' u t i l i t e e t l a v e r i t y . " He d e f i n e s t h e t e r m " G a l l i a d e " as b e i n g d e r i v e d f r o m t h e Hebrew " G a l a l , q u i 48 s i g n i f i e R e p l o y e r e t r e t o u r n e r . " A l t h o u g h t h e work r e c a l l s F i c i n o i n g l o r i f y i n g t h e p e r f e c t i o n o f t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e , i t i s d e s i g n e d p r i m a r i l y t o i l l u s t r a t e t h e a n t i q u i t y o f G a l l i c supremacy i n t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s i n o r d e r t o p r o v e t h e p r o v i d e n t i a l j u s t i c e o f renewed F r a n c h a r t i s t i c and i n t e l l e c t u a l s u p r e m a c y . L a B o d e r i e m a i n t a i n s t h a t t h e p o s t - d i l u v e a n t r a d i t i o n o f t h e D r u i d s had s u b s e q u e n t l y been d e v e l o p e d by t h e i r s u c c e s s o r s i n t h e a n c i e n t w o r l d , b u t was t o a t t a i n i t s u l t i m a t e f u l f i l m e n t o n l y i n t h e r e n e w a l and p e r f e c t i o n o f t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s i n t h e F r a n c e o f h i s d a y . ~ ^ The " A d v e r t i s s e m e n t " s t a t e s : J e me s u i s e s s a y e d ' y t r a i t e r de l a R e v o l u t i o n des A r t s e t S c i e n c e s , e t ensemblement y r e c u e i l - l i r l e s h o n o r a b l e s t e s m o i g n a g e s e t marques de l ' A n t i q u i t e , que t o u s l e s bons A u t h e u r s p r e s q u e de t o u t e s l a n g u e s e t n a t i o n s donnent aux a n c i e n s G a u l o i s noz m a j e u r s e t d e v a n c i e r s : 106 a u s q u e l s i l s a t t r i b u e n t 1 ' i n v e n t i o n des A r t s , d i s c i p l i n e s , e t e s c h o l e s p u b l i q u e s i n c o n t i n e n t a p r e s l e D e l u g e u n i v e r s e l . . . . j ' a y d i v i s e ' 1 ' O e u v r e e n t i e r en c i n q C e r c l e s , au r e p l y d e s q u e l s j ' a y mis p e i n e d ' e n c e r c l e r brevement l ' o r i g i n e , p r o g r e z e t p e r f e c t i o n q u ' o n t p r e s q u e p a r t o u t l e Rond de l a T e r r e , e t nommement en n o s t r e G a u l e . The a u t h o r ' s p u r p o s e i s f u r t h e r e x p l a i n e d i n t h e s e v e n t e e n d e d i c a t o r y s o n n e t s a d d r e s s e d t o h i s r o y a l p a t r o n , F r a n c o i s , Due d ' A l e n c o n , b r o t h e r o f H e n r y I I I . The G a u l s formed t h e f i r s t c i v i l i s a t i o n a f t e r t h e F l o o d : G a u l e e s t l e p r e m i e r nom de l a t e r r e noyee Du d e l u g e des e a u x , e t l e p e u p l e G a u l o i s E s t l e p e u p l e p r e m i e r en L e t t r e s e t en L o i s , E t q u i a l e p r e m i e r t e r r e e t mer t o u r n o y e e . ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 3) I t i s f i t t i n g t h a t a c c o r d i n g t o t h e p e r f e c t i o n o f c i r c u l a r movement F r a n c e s h o u l d be t h e c e n t r e o f t h e f i n a l p e r f e c t i o n o f the a r t s t r a n s - m i t t e d t h r o u g h t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i : Comme de l ' I n f i n y de l a Couronne r o n d e D e c o u l e l a Sagesse au s o u r g e o n e t e r n e l , Tout a i n s i p a r r o n d e u r s s o n r u i s s e a u p e r e n n e l Es s i e c l e s r e t o u r n e z se r e t o r n e en ce Monde. En L u z ^ 1 I s r a e l b e u t de s a s o u r c e f e c o n d e , Moyse en a r r o u s a l e t e r r o i r s o l e n n e l Q u i e s t b a i g n e du N i l , g r a n d M e r c u r e i s n e l L ' y p u i s a , e t d e p u i s O r f e e e n c o r l ' y s o n d e : P u i s l e d i v i n P l a t o n d ' E g i p t e l a d e r i v e En l a v i l l e ou P a l l a s f e i s t n a i s t r e s o n O l i v e . E t d ' A t h e n e s D e n i s s u r S e i n e l a b o r n a : S i que P a r i s sans p a i r de l a v i l l e a M i n e r v e , De T h r a c e , E g i p t e , e t L u z f u t f a i t e l a r e s e r v e , Ou l e Rond a c c o m p l y des S c i e n c e s t o r n a . ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 8) 107 I n a c c o r d w i t h t h e u n i v e r s a l r u l e o f one supreme e x e m p l a r o f e v e r y s p e c i e s i n t h e c h a i n o f b e i n g , t h e F r e n c h k i n g i s u n i v e r s a l m o n a r c h : " M a i s l e f r a n c Roy de F r a n c e e s t des Monarques R o y " ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 1 0 ) . I t behoves h i m , t h e r e f o r e , i n s p i t e o f t h e c i v i l chaos o f t h e t i m e s : " L a r a g e e t cruautcS en n o s t r e G a u l e e s p r i s e " ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 9 ) , t o a s s u r e the p e r f e c t i v e c o m p l e t i o n o f t h e c y c l i c a l r e t u r n o f t h e G a l l i c a r t i s t i c h e r i t a g e : P r o c u r e z d o n e , M o n s i e u r , que des A r t s l a g r a n d e u r Dont v o s t r e G a u l e b u t l a p r e m i e r e e s t r e n e e , P o u r o u v r i r en p l e i n Rond c e s t e Couronne o r n e e P u i s s e en G a u l e a c q u e r i r s a p a r f a i t e R o n d e u r . ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 2) Not o n l y a n i n t e l l e c t u a l and a r t i s t i c b u t a l s o a s p i r i t u a l r e s t o r a t i o n i n f o r m s L a B o d e r i e ' s message t o t h e p r i n c e the anagram o f whose name p r o v e s h i s m i s s i o n : Sous l e nom de C e s a r p o u r l a seconde f o i s P u i s s e n a i s t r e en nos c o e u r s l e C h r i s t e t Roy des R o i s , SA FOY LOY D ' U N CESAR domptant l a T e r r e e t l ' o n d e . ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 5) The p o e t h i m s e l f may c o m p l a i n o f h i s l a c k o f m a t e r i a l recompense: M a i s j e p u i s h a r d i m e n t aux p e u p l e s r a c o n t e r Que ny P r i n c e ny R o y , sans que l e u r nom j e p i n s e , D ' a u c u n p r i x ou l o y e r , t a n t s o i t p e t i t ou m i n c e , N ' a s o u l a g e l e f a i x q u ' i l m ' a f a l l u p o r t e r . ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 5) H i s h i g h r e s o l v e t o s e r v e t h e h i g h e s t i n t e r e s t s o f h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s r e m a i n s f i r m , h o w e v e r : E t sous v o u s , mon C e s a r , s o i t ou mon a v e n t u r e , Le D e s t i n ou l e S o r t , j a p i e c a j e p r e t e n s De p l a i r e en p r o f i t a n t aux d o c t e s que j ' e n t e n s Que vous f a v o r i s e z comme e n f a n s de M e r c u r e . ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 15) 108 H i s c o n s t a n t p u r p o s e i s t o r e v e a l what he b e l i e v e s t o be t h e t r u t h i n t h e s e r v i c e o f F r a n c e : De Moy j e s u i s c o n t e n t p o u r ma p a r t d ' a v o i r p r i s L a c h a r g e d ' i l l u s t r e r l e s i l l u s t r e s E s p r i t s , De f a b l e s n ' o u r d i s s a n t une l o n g u e I l i a d e : M a i s de j u s t e l o y e r e t l o s de v e r i t e O r n a n t mon P e u p l e e t G e n t , comme i l a m e r i t e , E t des G a u l e s , G a u l o i s , c h a n t a n t l a G a l l i a d e . ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 7) The m a i n body o f L a G a l l i a d e c o m p r i s e s one h u n d r e d and t w e n t y - s i x f o l i o pages o f a l e x a n d r i n e v e r s e rhymed i n c o u p l e t s . I t s s t r u c t u r e r e f l e c t s the c i r c u l a r c o n n o t a t i o n o f t h e t i t l e a c c o r d i n g t o L a B o d e r i e ' s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e Hebrew t e r m , G a l a l . Thus each s e c t i o n o f t h e w o r k i s termed a " C e r c l e . " The a u t h o r t r a c e s f i r s t t h e h i s t o r y o f t h e p e o p l i n g o f t h e e a r t h and t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f c i v i l i s a t i o n . I n the Second C i r c l e h e t r e a t s o f a r c h i t e c t u r e . I n t h e T h i r d , he e x t o l l s D r u i d i c eminence i n a l l s c i e n c e s i n c l u d i n g n a t u r a l m a g i c . I n t h e F o u r t h and F i f t h C i r c l e s he a n a l y s e s t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f e a r t h l y m u s i c a c c o r d i n g to t h e model o f t h e m u s i c o f t h e s p h e r e s , and f i n a l l y p r a i s e s p o e t r y as a d i v i n e l y - i n s p i r e d a r t whose muse i s t w i n t o t h a t o f m u s i c . The work as a w h o l e i s marked s t r o n g l y by a P l a t o n i s t s p i r i t w h i c h r e j e c t s e m p i r i c a l i n v e s t i g a t i o n i n f a v o u r o f i d e a l i s t i c c o n c e p t s , - and by K a b b a l i s t i c " p r o o f s " b a s e d on s p e c u l a t i o n s on t h e h i d d e n meanings o f w o r d s , l e t t e r s and numbers and on t h e s e c r e t i n f l u e n c e s o f t h e p l a n e t s . P o s t e l l i a n p r o p h e c i e s f i n d t h e i r echo i n t h e s p i r i t o f t h e work as a w h o l e , as does h i s " e m i t h o l o g i z i n g " word p l a y i n i t s d e t a i l s . I t i s a p p a r e n t t h a t L a B o d e r i e , i n s p i t e o f t h e r h e t o r i c and r e d u n d a n c y o f h i s s t y l e h e a v i l y w e i g h t e d w i t h t h e s c h o l a r l y a p p a r a t u s 109 o f ' l ' e t e r n e l t S c o l a t r e " and t h e " l e x i c o g r a p h e i m p e n i t e n t , " had a d i s t i n c t v i s i o n o f h i s i n t e n t i o n . Inasmuch as t h e u n p a r a l l e l e d f l o u r i s h i n g o f t h e a r t s o f t h a t " g o l d e n a g e " d e n o t e d a d i v i n e w i l l t o r e s t o r e man t o h i s p r i m o r d i a l c l a r i t y o f c o m p r e h e n s i o n a t t h e same t i m e t h a t s e e m i n g l y i r r e m e d i a b l e r e l i g i o u s s t r i f e i n d i c a t e d t h e coming o f t h e g r e a t a p o c a l y p t i c s a b b a t h and a s t r o l o g i c a l s i g n s b e t o k e n e d t h e a p p r o a c h i n g new age o f C h r i s t ' s s e c o n d c o m i n g , L a B o d e r i e s o u g h t t o p r e p a r e h i s c o u n t r y m e n t o f u l f i l l t h e i r p r o v i d e n t i a l 53 r o l e . I n L a G a l l i a d e he amassed h i s e n c y c l o p e d i c c o l l e c t i o n o f a n c i e n t e s o t e r i c wisdom t o t h e end o f e x p o s i n g t h a t , as p a r t o f t h e c o n s t a n t " r e v o l u t i o n " o f c r e a t i o n , t h e r e t u r n f r o m E a s t t o West h a d made G o d ' s c h o s e n p e o p l e once more t h e F r e n c h i n t h e p l a c e o f t h e J e w s , and P a r i s t h e new J e r u s a l e m o f C h r i s t ' s s e c o n d c o m i n g . L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c m i s s i o n was t h u s , q u i t e s i m p l y , t o seek o u t and t o r e v e a l t o h i s c o m p a t r i o t s the d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n s o f t h e i r d i v i n e d e s t i n y . The e p i g r a p h to L a G a l l i a d e d e f i n e s t h a t c a l l i n g : C ' e s t l a g l o i r e de D i e u l a p a r o l e c a c h e r , C ' e s t l a g l o i r e des R o i s l a p a r o l e c h e r c h e r . The E g y p t i a n image o f t h e s e r p e n t c o i l e d b a c k upon i t s e l f t o b i t e i t s t a i l i n t r o d u c e s t h e f i r s t C i r c l e o f L a G a l l i a d e . T h i s c i r c u l a r movement, l i k e t h e p e r f e c t c i r c l e o f G o d ; " r o n d i n f i n i , " r e p r e s e n t s f o r L a B o d e r i e t h e c i r c u l a r movement o f k n o w l e d g e w h i c h : P a r c e r t a i n e s r o n d e u r s de s i e c l e s o r d o n n e z R e v i v e n t aux e s p r i t s des hommes y donnez Dedans l e p r o p r e b i e n de ce g l o b e t e r r e s t r e Ou j a d i s on l e s v e i t commencer e t r e n a i s t r e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . l r ) 110 The image i l l u s t r a t e s t h e r e t u r n o f t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s t o G a u l , t h e i r p l a c e o f o r i g i n , t h e h i s t o r y o f w h i c h i s t h e p r i n c i p a l s u b j e c t o f t h e f i r s t C i r c l e . The p e o p l i n g o f t h e e a r t h a c c o r d i n g t o t h e l e g e n d o f Noah was 56 a p o p u l a r t o p i c f r o m t h e M i d d l e Ages t o t h e s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y . S u p p o r t i n g h i s a f f i r m a t i o n s by a n a l y s i s o f t h e Hebrew names a c c o r d i n g t o P o s t e l ' s " e m i t h o l o g i e , " and r e l y i n g on t h e a c c o u n t o f A n n i u s o f V i t e r b o , t h e p s e u d o - B e r o s u s L a B o d e r i e a s s i g n s A s i a , A f r i c a , and E u r o p e t o N o a h ' s s o n s Sem, Ham, and J a p h e t r e s p e c t i v e l y . F u r t h e r m o r e , he a s s i g n s t o A t l a n t u s , f a t h e r o f D i s , t h e f i r s t k i n g o f G a u l , t h e w h o l e o f t h e n e w l y - d i s c o v e r e d w o r l d o f A m e r i c a w h i c h " l e G r e g e o i s . . . a p p e l l a l a b e l l e I s l e A t l a n t i q u e . " G a u l i t s e l f was f o u n d e d by a s o n o f J a p h e t , Gomer, " a c c o m p l y d e s s u s un m i l l i o n . " To h i s d e s c e n d a n t s i s due a l l h o n o r f o r h a v i n g d e v e l o p e d t h e s c i e n c e s o f m a t h e m a t i c s , a s t r o n o m y , a s t r o l o g y , and p h i l o s o p h y and f o r t h u s h a v i n g shown t o a l l p e o p l e s t h e way t o a k n o w l e d g e o f G o d : . . . l ' E s c h e l l e a r e m o n t e r aux C i e u x E t moyen d ' a l l i e r l e s hommes e t l e s D i e u x . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 2 9 v ) From G a u l was s p r e a d a b r o a d t h e f i r s t a l p h a b e t , a g i f t t o t h e c h o s e n p e o p l e f r o m Noah adumbrated as D e u c a l i o n J a n u s , he o f two f a c e s , 58 two v o i c e s , o r t h e two modes o f w r i t i n g and o f s p e a k i n g . I f t h e G r e e k s have p r e t e n d e d o t h e r w i s e i t i s b u t one more p r o o f o f t h e e r r o r i n t o w h i c h t h e i r p o l y t h e i s m l e d them b e f o r e t h e coming o f t h e m o n o t h e i s t i c O r p h e u s : I l l Car c e s t e n a t i o n t r o p m e n t e r e s s e e t v a i n e P a r s e s c o n t e s f a n g e u x a t r o u b l e l a f o n t a i n e De l a v e r i t e p u r e , e t seme en t o u s l i e u x L a boiie e t p u a n t e u r des m a l i n s e t f a u x D i e u x . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 2 3 r ) I n t r u t h , i n t h e new w o r l d e s t a b l i s h e d a f t e r t h e f l o o d s e n t t o p u n i s h I s r a e l , G o d ' s f a v o u r h a s a l w a y s been shown t o t h e G a l l i c d e s c e n d a n t s o f Gomer: C ' e s t u n a r r e s t du C i e l , l ' E t e r n e l a t r o u v £ E t au l i e u d ' I s r a e l p o u r un temps reprouve" I I s ' e s t c h o i s y Gomer p a r s o n P r o p h e t e O s e e , ^ L a q u e l l e e s t o i t p u t a i n aux f a u x D i e u x e x p o s e e . D i e u m a i n t i e n d r a t o u s j o u r s l a F l e u r - d e - l i s o u v e r t e . E t e n t r e t o u t e s f l e u r s de t o u s j a r d i n s p o l i s I I a e s l e u p o u r soy l a s e u l e f l e u r de l i s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 2 5 v ) By a s s i m i l a t i o n o f t h e h i s t o r i c a l S t . D e n i s o f F r a n c e t o t h e p s e u d o - D i o n y s i u s t h e A r e o p a g i t e who was supposed to have been i n s t r u c t e d by S t . P a u l h i m s e l f , L a B o d e r i e makes F r a n c e t h e home o f A p o s t o l i c r e v e l a t i o n and t h u s o f t r u e t h e o l o g y : [ D e n i s ] en a a b r e u v e t o u t l e p e u p l e de F r a n c e , F r a n c e h e u r e u s e v r a y m e n t , d o n t l ' A p o s t r e a e s t e De l a P h i l o s o p h i e en j e u n e s s e a l a i t e P o u r c o n c e v o i r a p r e s c e l l e q u i l a s u r p a s s e P l u s que l e C i e l n ' e s t h a u t d e s s u s l a t e r r e b a s s e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 2 7 r ) The s e c o n d a r y theme o f t h e F i r s t C i r c l e i s t h a t w h i c h t h e a u t h o r c a l l s t h e m a r r i a g e o f h e a v e n and e a r t h . The p o s t - d i l u v e a n w o r l d 60 was d i v i d e d a c c o r d i n g t o t h e t w e l v e h o u s e s o f t h e Z o d i a c . Each o f t h e s e v e n t y - t w o n a t i o n s b e i n g s u b j e c t , t h e r e f o r e , t o t h e i n f l u e n c e o f " l e Monde i n t e l l i g i b l e , " each has a d i v i n e m i s s i o n t o f u l f i l l : 112 A i n s i f u t repeuple" t o u t l e Monde u n i v e r s D ' h a b i t a t e u r s nouveau en l a n g u e e t meurs d i v e r s , P a r l e s douze m a i s o n s du Z o d i a c v i s i b l e (Comme p a r des canaux) du Monde i n t e l l i g i b l e R e c e v a n t s 1 ' i n f l u e n c e : a i n s i r e m a r i e z F u r e n t l a T e r r e e t C i e l ensemble a p p a r i e z . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 2 7 r ) 6 1 A g a i n t h e p r i m a c y o f t h e G a u l s i s s t r e s s e d , f o r t h e y were t h e f i r s t t o have d e v i s e d t h e l a w s o f m a t h e m a t i c s and t h e a n c i e n t a r t s o f a s t r o n o m y and a s t r o l o g y . T h e i r a r t i s s a i d t o have f l o u r i s h e d f r o m t h e t i m e o f Z o r o a s t e r and Abraham, t h e l e g e n d a r y t e a c h e r s o f a s t r o l o g y t o t h e E g y p t i a n s . I t was d e r i v e d f r o m the sum o f k n o w l e d g e i n s c r i b e d on the d o u b l e columns by a n t e d i l u v e a n sages and p a s s e d on t o t h e p o s t - d i l u v e a n c h o s e n p e o p l e o f G a u l by Noah t h r o u g h A t l a n t u s and h i s r o y a l s o n D i s and h i s d e s c e n d a n t s ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 28 ) . The i m p o r t a n c e o f m a t h e m a t i c s and o f a s t r o l o g i c a l a s t r o n o m y i n L a B o d e r i e ' s s c i e n t i f i c a p o l o g e t i c s i s l i n k e d to h i s p r o p o s i t i o n 6 2 o f i n n a t e i d e a s . Reason l e a d s man f ro m t h e m a t e r i a l t o t h e d i v i n e j u s t a s , w i t h i n t h e m i c r o c o s m , i t l i n k s s e n s o r y p e r c e p t i o n o f t h e " s h a d o w s " t o an u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t r u t h : C ' e s t doncques Samothes Roy de n o s t r e P r o v i n c e Q u i au P r i n c e des A r t s e s t l ' A u t h e u r e t l e P r i n c e , De l a M a t h e m a t i q u e a s s i s e en u n i o n Dessus l a v e r i t y , non s u r 1 ' o p i n i o n , E t q u i t i e n t l e m i l i e u en s a r i c h e p e i n t u r e E n t r e l ' a r t s a i n c t de D i e u , e t l ' A r t de l a N a t u r e . Ne p l u s ne moins q u ' e n nous 1 ' E s p r i t e t l a R a i s o n Q u i r e c h e r c h e e t d i s c o u r t , c o n j o i n t l a l i a i s o n D ' e n t r e l ' A m e q u i e s t aux ombres a r r e s t e e , E t l a p u r e pensee en t o u t temps a p p r e s t e e De l u i en 1 ' A r c h e t y p e e t en l a p u r i t § Du m i r o i r des E s p r i t s l e s r a i s de v e r i t £ : R e c u e i l l a n t l e s r a y o n s t o u t d r o i t a l a c l a r t e 113 De 1 ' u n i q u e S o l e i l q u i s a l u m i e r e i n f o n d e En t o u t homme q u i v i e n t h a b i t e r en ce monde. ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 2 8 v - 2 9 r ) A f t e r an e x t e n s i v e n a r r a t i o n o f t h e b e n e f i t s w h i c h have a c c r u e d t o mankind as a r e s u l t o f t h e G a u l s ' d e v e l o p m e n t o f m a t h e m a t i c s , a s t r o n o m y , g e o g r a p h y , and cosmography, t h e a u t h o r r e t u r n s t o h i s m a i n theme o f e x a l t a t i o n o f t h e D r u i d i c h e r i t a g e i n t h e r e n a i s s a n c e o f t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s i n F r a n c e : J e vous salu'e E s p r i t s c l a i r s e t d i v i n s f l a m b e a u x , Q u i a v e z . . . c h a s s e de l a F r a n c e L e m o n s t r e t e n e b r e u x de l ' a v e u g l e I g n o r a n c e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 1 v ) W i t h p r o f e s s o r s o f Hebrew and o f m a t h e m a t i c s f r o m t h e C o l l e g e des l e c t e u r s r o y a u x a p p e a r o u t s t a n d i n g h u m a n i s t s o f t h e e a r l y R e n a i s s a n c e 6 3 s u c h as L e f e v r e d ' E t a p l e s , B u d e , and e v e n E r a s m u s , as w e l l as A m y o t , L a z a r e de B a i f , P o s t e l , Ramus, P e l e t i e r du M a n s , among o t h e r h u m a n i s t s o f l e s s l a s t i n g fame. The Second C i r c l e p r e s e n t s a h i s t o r y o f a r c h i t e c t u r e i n t h e 64 c o n t e x t o f t h e a u t h o r ' s i d e a l i s t i c and o c c u l t i n t e r e s t s . Development o f t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s d e p e n d s , f o r L a B o d e r i e , on t h e r e a l i s a t i o n o f p r i n c i p l e s i n n a t e i n man r a t h e r t h a n on an e m p i r i c a l s c i e n t i f i c p r o c e s s . The a r c h i t e c t i s t h u s p r e s e n t e d p r i m a r i l y as a h i e r o p h a n t whose a r t d e r i v e s l e s s f r o m h i s t e c h n i c a l k n o w l e d g e t h a n f r o m h i s a s t r o l o g i c a l and m a g i c a l i n s i g h t . D i s c o v e r y o f t h e a r t o f a r c h i t e c t u r e i s a s c r i b e d t o t h e D r u i d k i n g M a g u s - M a g o g , a c c o r d i n g t o t h e " e m i t h o l o g i e " o f t h e name f r o m t h e 114 Hebrew t e r m f o r r o o f , s i g n i f y i n g " 1 ' i n v e n t i o n de c o u v r i r e t b a s t i r l e s m a i s o n s . " W e l l v e r s e d i n g e o m e t r y , p e r s p e c t i v e and p a i n t i n g , Magus d e v e l o p e d t o o l s , d i m e n s i o n s , and d e c o r a t i o n s f o r b u i l d e r s o f t e m p l e s and o f p a l a c e s , and a l s o f o r c i t y p l a n n e r s . A p r i m i t i v i s t i c t o t e m i s m r e g u l a t e d t h e c o n s t r u c t i o n o f t h e f i r s t G a u l i s h c i t i e s a c c o r d i n g t o L a B o d e r i e , who s u p p o r t s t h e c o n c e p t o f t i t u l a r y s p i r i t s by r e f e r e n c e t o M a c r o b i u s and t o P l i n y : [Les b o u r g s e t l e s v i l l e s ] i l s o n t nommez v o u S z e t d e d i e z A Anges p u r s e t bons . . . A c e l l e f i n d ' a v o i r en chaque v i l l e e t l i e u Un Ange g a r d i e n m i n i s t r e du g r a n d D i e u . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 6 r ) T h i s " m a r r i a g e o f h e a v e n and e a r t h " p r o p o u n d e d i n t h e F i r s t C i r c l e i s r e l a t e d t o t h e e x p l a n a t i o n f r o m t h e Zohar o f N o a h ' s i n s p i r a t i o n b y t h e f i r s t - c r e a t e d I n t e l l i g e n c e : A i n s i l ' a v o i t a p p r i s Noach l e P a t r i a r c h e Q u i a v o i t a v e q ' l u y l e P a v i l i o n e t l ' A r c h e De l a D i v i n i t y , G e n i e u n i v e r s e l , E t des f a c e s l e P r i n c e , Ange du Grand C o n s e i l . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 6 r ) 6 6 N o t o n l y had Noah d i v i d e d t h e e a r t h a c c o r d i n g t o t h e m y s t i c numbers f o u r , f i v e , and s e v e n , w i t h t h e s e v e n t y - t w o n a t i o n s b e i n g g o v e r n e d by t h e c e l e s t i a l i n f l u e n c e o f t h e t w e l v e s i g n s o f t h e Z o d i a c ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 6 r - 3 7 r ) , b u t a l s o t o each c i t y was a s s i g n e d a g u a r d i a n a n g e l . I n c l a i m i n g f o r P a r i s t h e a r c h a n g e l Z a r f a t i e l , whose name i s e x p l a i n e d i n a m a r g i n a l n o t e as " l e G e n i e de l a G a u l e r e p u r g ^ e , " L a B o d e r i e i n c o r p o r a t e s t h e P o s t e l l i a n e s c h a t a l o g i c a l theme o f t h e s e c o n d coming 6 7 o f C h r i s t when P a r i s i s t o be t h e new J e r u s a l e m , home o f t h e b l e s s e d . The P a r i s i a n c o a t o f arms i s f u r t h e r adduced as e v i d e n c e o f M a g u s ' 115 k n o w l e d g e o f m a g i c c h a r m s , f o r i t r e p r e s e n t s t h e p r o t e c t i v e images w h i c h he t a u g h t s h o u l d be h i d d e n u n d e r t h e f o u n d a t i o n s o f a c i t y " a f i n de g a r d e r p a r t e l s M a g i q u e s s o r t s " ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 38 ) a g a i n s t d i s a s t e r by f i r e , f l o o d , o r s e i g e . Thus t h e a r t o f a r c h i t e c t u r e i s d e r i v e d f r o m a m i x t u r e o f m y s t i c i s m and o f m a g i c a s c r i b e d t o the a n c i e n t G a l l i c k i n g Magus-Magog whose p r e c e p t s a r e s a i d t o have been f o l l o w e d by t h e g r e a t b u i l d e r s o f t h e a n c i e n t w o r l d and d e v e l o p e d above a l l i n R e n a i s s a n c e Tuscany t o f l o u r i s h f i n a l l y i n R e n a i s s a n c e F r a n c e u n d e r Henry I I I . L a B o d e r i e ' s p r a i s e t h e r e f o r e i s e x t e n d e d t o t h e a r c h i t e c t u r a l c o n t r i b u t i o n s o f t h e " h u m a n i s t " a r t i s t s A l b e r t i , S a n g a l l o , Bramante and M i c h e l a n g e l o , as w e l l as t o t h o s e I t a l i a n o r I t a l i a n - t r a i n e d a r t i s t s and a r c h i t e c t s o f 68 t h e " c l a s s i c a l p e r i o d " o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e . The l a t t e r i n c l u d e S e r l i o , P h i l a n d e r , G o u j o n , C l a g n y , J e a n M a r t i n , P h i l i b e r t de l ' O r m e a n d , among l e s s e r p a i n t e r s , C o u s i n . L a B o d e r i e ' s e u l o g y o f t h e g r e a t a r c h i t e c t s and s c u l p t o r s o f h i s t i m e e m p h a s i z e s a g a i n t h e i r s p i r i t u a l r a t h e r t h a n t h e i r t e c h n i c a l c o m p e t e n c e , f o r t h e a r t o f t h e s e " d o c t e s E s p r i t s " d e r i v e s f r o m t h e i r p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n t h e d i v i n e I n t e l l i g e n c e w h i c h i n f o r m s human r e a s o n and n o t f r o m a p u r e l y human o p e r a t i v e c a p a c i t y . A r c h i t e c t s , l i k e G o d , c r e a t e f r o m an I d e a w h i c h i s t o be r e p r e s e n t e d i n m a t t e r . Thus t h e y r e s e m b l e t h e f i r s t - c r e a t e d " S a g e s s e " a s s i m i l a t e d e l s e w h e r e t o t h e C h r i s t f i g u r e : I m i t a n t s l e g r a n d D i e u q u i a v o i t d i s p e n s e e L a machine du Monde au r o n d de s a pensee A v a n t que de l ' o u v r i r , e t l a p r o d u i r e au j o u r , P e i g n a n t s a g r a n d I d e e en l ' o e u v r e f a i t au t o u r . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 4 0 v ) 116 The T h i r d C i r c l e g l o r i f i e s t h e D r u i d s as t h e f i r s t men o f l e a r n i n g by whom t h e supreme d i s c i p l i n e s o f p h i l o s o p h y and t h e o l o g y were d e v e l o p e d . They a r e s a i d t o h a v e been t h e f i r s t t o have e s t a b l i s h e d an e d u c a t i o n a l s y s t e m e m b r a c i n g a l l t h e h u m a n i s t d i s c i p l i n e s and t h e f i r s t g r e a t p h i l o s o p h e r - p r i e s t s whose l e a r n i n g p e r m i t t e d them t o p e n e t r a t e t o an u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t h e " s e c r e t s o f e t e r n i t y " and e v e n t o b e n e f i t f r o m 69 a t y p e o f t h e u r g i c m a g i c . L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e f a c e s u m m a r i z e s : Au C e r c l e t i e r s j e d i s c o u r s p a r t i c u l i e r e m e n t du s c a v o i r a d m i r a b l e de nos D r u y d e s en l a c o n n a i s s a n c e de t o u t e s d i s c i p l i n e s , j u s q u e s au sommet e t s u p e r i e u r d e g r e de l a magie n a t u r e l l e e t f a c u l t e de p r e d i r e l e s choses a v e n i r . En quoy comme en p a s s a n t j ' a y remarque q u e l q u e s p o i n t s de l a magie r e p r o u v e e e t condamnee . . . . I t i s t o be e x p e c t e d t h a t L a B o d e r i e , as t r a n s l a t o r o f P i c o ' s o r a t i o n on t h e d i g n i t y o f man, s h o u l d g l o r i f y man t h e " c h a m e l e o n " f o r h i s c a p a c i t y f o r l e a r n i n g w h i c h d i s t i n g u i s h e s h i m b o t h f r o m t h e a n i m a l and f r o m t h e a n g e l i c s p e c i e s o f c r e a t i o n . ^ L a B o d e r i e r e l a t e s t h e name o f D r i u s , f o u n d e r o f t h e D r u i d p r i e s t h o o d t o t h e Hebrew " D o r a s , " s i g n i f y i n g " t o s e a r c h o u t . " Thus he f i n d s i n t h e s e " v i e u x R e c h e r - c h e u r s de s e c r e t s " t h e p r o t o t y p e s o f t h e h u m a n i s t i d e a l o f l e a r n i n g t h r o u g h w h i c h man a f f i r m s h i s p r e - e m i n e n c e o v e r t h e l o w e r f o r m s o f m u t a b l e c r e a t i o n and even o v e r t h e s t a b l e a n g e l i c w o r l d . Inasmuch as man has been d i v i n e l y d i s t i n g u i s h e d b o t h f r o m t h e u n r e a s o n i n g b e a s t and f r o m t h e i n t u i t i v e l y - u n d e r s t a n d i n g a n g e l by h i s c a p a c i t y f o r l e a r n i n g , h i s e x e r c i s i n g t h i s g i f t by s e a r c h i n g a f t e r k n o w l e d g e o f a l l t y p e s i s an e t h i c a l and even a r e l i g i o u s m a t t e r . By f r e e l y 117 e x e r c i s i n g h i s g i f t f o r d i s i n t e r e s t e d k n o w l e d g e p r i m a r i l y t h r o u g h d i s c u r s i v e r e a s o n i n g , he may l e a r n . s o m e t h i n g o f G o d . The D r u i d s a r e shown t o have d i s c o v e r e d t h r o u g h t h e i r i n v e s t i g a t i o n s c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s w h i c h l i n k t h e m i c r o c o s m i c and t h e m a c r o c o s m i c w o r l d s w i t h t h e d i v i n e . L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n s t a n t d e s i r e f o r harmony, f o r t h a t r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f a l l phenomena w h i c h he s u g g e s t e d i n t h e f i r s t two C i r c l e s as a " m a r r i a g e of h e a v e n and e a r t h " b y use o f a s t r o l o g y , i s h e r e d e v e l o p e d a t l e n g t h i n an a c c o u n t o f D r u i d i c t h e o l o g y b a s e d on m a g i c : E t p a r - s u s t o u s c e u x - l a q u i o s e n t r e c h e r c h e r L e s s e c r e t s de N a t u r e , e t du C i e l e s p l u c h e r L e s m y s t e r e s p r o f o n d s , e t l e u r T h e o l o g i e En N a t u r e f o n d e e avecques l a M a g i e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 4 2 V ) I t i s f o r t h e i r a p p r o a c h t o God t h r o u g h a s t u d y o f n a t u r e t h a t t h e D r u i d s a r e r e v e r e d above a l l : . . . hommes p a r f a i t s Les p l u s p r o c h a i n s des D i e u x , q u i s c e u s s e n t l e s e f f e t s Des c h o s e s , l e u r s v e r t u s , causes e t o r i g i n e , Et q u i c o n n u s s e n t b i e n l a n a t u r e d i v i n e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 4 4 v ) As p o s s e s s o r s o f k n o w l e d g e b o t h human and d i v i n e t h e D r u i d p h i l o s o p h e r - p r i e s t s were n e c e s s a r i l y m a s t e r s o f t h e a r t o f v e i l i n g t h e m y s t e r i e s t h e y p a s s e d on t o t h e i r i n i t i a t e s . T h i s c o n c e p t o f p o e t i c v e i l i n g o f t r u t h i n o r d e r t o p r o t e c t i t f r o m t h e c o n t a m i n a t i o n o f t h e p r o f a n e had been e n u n c i a t e d by D i o n y s i u s t h e A r e o p a g i t e and a d o p t e d i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e by the F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s , f o r whom i t was c l o s e l y r e l a t e d to t h e s t u d y o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a . ^ I n t h e c o n t e x t o f D r u i d i c m y s t e r i e s L a B o d e r i e e l a b o r a t e s t h a t c o n c e p t w h i c h was c e n t r a l t o h i s own v i e w o f t h e p o e t i c r o l e . 118 The D r u i d s ' c u l t i s b a s e d , a c c o r d i n g t o L a B o d e r i e , on an o r a l t r a d i t i o n a s s o c i a t e d w i t h a l l a n c i e n t m y s t e r y r e l i g i o n s whose s e c r e t s were r e s t r i c t e d t o t h e i n i t i a t e . Thus N o a h - J a n u s i s s a i d t o have 72 i n s t r u c t e d t h e R a z e n u i n s ( G a u l s ) t o g u a r d t h e i r s e c r e t knowledge j u s t as t h e a n t e - d i l u v e a n p r o p h e t s had done: J a - J a d e p u i s Enoch d'Adam l e s e c r e t a i r e D&s l e s i e c l e p r e m i e r , l e s p e r e s s o u l o i e n t t a i r e Au p e u p l e t o u t g r o s s i e r l e s m y s t e r e s v o i l e z , L e s q u e l z de p e r e en f i l s l e u r e s t o i e n t r e v e l e z . A i n s i l e bon Janus d e c e l a s e s m y s t e r e s Aux v i e u x R a z e n u i n s s e s l o y a u x s e c r e t a i r e s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 4 8 r ) The m y s t e r i e s were a c c e s s i b l e o n l y t o t h e i n i t i a t e s i n t h e a n c i e n t m y s t e r y r e l i g i o n s o f t h e H e b r e w s , t h e C h a l d a e a n s and t h e D r u i d s : Q u i r e t i n d r e n t t o u s j o u r s c e s t e f a c o n a n t i q u e De ne r e v e l e r p o i n t l a s c i e n c e m y s t i q u e A l a t o u r b e i g n o r a n t e , a i n s aux d o c t e s J u r e z L a b a i l l e r s e u l e m e n t d e s s o u s sens f i g u r e z . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 4 8 v ) T h i s p r a c t i c e i s l i n k e d t o t h e h i s t o r y o f the K a b b a l i s t i c m y s t e r i e s t r a n s m i t t e d by Moses t o t h e s e v e n t y w i s e men and by them t o s u c c e e d i n g p r o p h e t - p r i e s t s ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 4 8 V ) . I t i s a s s o c i a t e d f u r t h e r w i t h t h e c u l t s o f Hermes T r i s m e g i s t u s , Z o r o a s t e r , O r p h e u s , t h e H i n d u v r B r a h m i n s , P y t h a g o r a s and P l a t o ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 48 - 4 9 ) . C h r i s t h i m s e l f spoke i n p a r a b l e s ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 49 ) . F u r t h e r m o r e t h e e c s t a t i c v i s i o n w h i c h i s t h e h i g h e s t o f a l l forms o f k n o w l e d g e i n t h a t i t u n i t e s man w i t h t h e d i v i n e i s e s s e n t i a l l y n o n - d i s c u r s i v e and f i g u r a t i v e . Thus many e v o c a t i o n s o f s a i n t s and p r o p h e t s r a v i s h e d i n t h e m y s t i c u n i o n o f t h e e c s t a t i c " s e p t i e m e v o l " a r e crowned b y t h a t o f S t . J o h n ' s A p o c a l y p s e . A l l a r e r e l a t e d t o t h e s e c r e t r e v e l a t i o n s 119 o f t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i ; M a i s t o u s comme s i l o r s i l s e u s s e n t s o m m e i l l e , Tout ce q u ' i l s a v o i e n t v e u , en e s p r i t e s v e i l l e I l s l e c o u v r o i e n t s o u d a i n des ombrages e t v o i l e s De 1 ' i m a g i n a t i o n , comme sous c l a i r e s t o i l e s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 6 6 v ) I n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e h i d d e n t r u t h r e q u i r e s t h e c o n s e c r a t i o n o f t h e t r u e p o e t , t h e l e a r n e d and v i r t u o u s " k i n g " o f t h e e p i g r a p h t o L a G a l l i a d e . O n l y he c a n u n c o v e r t h e " g o l d e n a p p l e s " r e f e r r e d t o i n t h e e p i g r a p h t o L ' E n c y c l i e h e r e r e c a l l e d : . . . meme l e P r o f e t e , I n t e r p r e t e de D i e u , d ' u n a u t r e homme i n t e r p r e t e Se t r o u v e a v o i r b e s o i n , q u i de r a y o n s a i l e z D i s s i p e l e s nuaux des m y s t e r e s v o i l e z : E t l e q u e l s c a c h e o s t e r l e s ombres e t l e s f u e i l l e s De q u i l e s Pommes d ' o r s o u s a r g e n t i n e s t r e i l l e s Se c o u v r e n t a demy, p o u r f a i r e p e r c e v o i r A c l a i r j o u r l e j o u r c l a i r du m y s t i q u e - s c a v o i r . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 6 6 ^ - 6 7 r ) A c c o r d i n g t o L a B o d e r i e t h e D r u i d s ' r e l i g i o n was e s s e n t i a l l y t h a t o f t h e C h r i s t i a n h u m a n i s t s . F i r s t l y , i t made man t h e f o c a l p o i n t o f a l l c r e a t i o n , a s s i g n i n g t o h i m a l s o t h e r o l e o f b e i n g t h e means o f t h e u n i o n o f God w i t h h i s c r e a t i o n : D i e u q u i a t o u t c r e e , q u i t o u t c l o s t e t consomme, P o u r 1'homme f e i s t l e monde, e t p o u r l u y s e u l f e i s t 1'homme. ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 1 v ) S e c o n d l y , e v e n t h e p r a c t i c e o f human s a c r i f i c e i s c o n s t r u e d as a p r e f i g u r a t i o n o f C h r i s t i a n r e d e m p t i o n t h r o u g h t h e p a s s i o n and as a s u g g e s t i o n o f t h e V i r g i n b i r t h : P o s s i b l e que Janus [Noah] p a r e s p r i t p r o f e t i q u e A v o i t s i g n i f i e a D i s l e u r p e r e a n t i q u e Que 1'homme q u i e s t o i t tombe de s o n d e g r e Q u i e s t o i t bany du P a r a d i s s a c r e , Ne p o u v o i t r e c o u v r e r c e s t e g r a c e p e r d u e , 120 S l p a r l a m o r t d ' u n homme e l l e n ' e s t o l t r e n d u e : E t s i 1'homme A r c h e t y p e a y a n t p r i s un v r a y c o r p s , P a r m o r t ne r e d o n n o i t l a v i e e t l e s a c c o r d s Des b a s , moyens, e t h a u t s , p a r c h a i n e e n t r e s u y v i e R e s o u l d a n t l e s canaux p a r ou c o u l e l a v i e . P o u r c e v o u l u r e n t - i l s dedans C h a r t r e s p l a n t e r A c e l l e q u i d e v o i t e s t a n t V i e r g e e n f a n t e r , Un Temple c o n s a c r e . . . . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 3 r ) Thus i n t h e D r u i d s ' r e l i g i o n c a n be f o u n d n o t o n l y t h e c o n c e p t o f i m m o r t a l i t y s u g g e s t e d by t h e i r b e l i e f i n m e t e m p s y c h o s i s ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 4 4 V ) b u t a l s o a p r e - C h r i s t i a n c o n c e p t o f s a l v a t i o n . D r u i d i c r e l i g i o n was r e m a r k a b l e f o r i t s m a g i c a l as w e l l as i t s m y s t i c a l p r e - e m i n e n c e . A l a r g e s e c t i o n o f t h e T h i r d C i r c l e i s d e v o t e d t o t h e i r t h e u r g i c p o w e r s . They were p r o p h e t s : L e s D r u y d e s d i v i n s , q u i t a n t p a r l e s a u g u r e s Que p a r s a i n c t e f u r e u r t o u t e s c h o s e s f u t u r e s Au p e u p l e p r e d i s o i e n t , . . . 7 „ ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 3 r ) T h e i r v i r g i n p r i e s t e s s e s ' i n c a n t a t o r y powers were c o m p a r a b l e and e v e n s u p e r i o r t o t h o s e o f t h e Greek s i b y l s : P a r l e u r s carmes e t c h a n t s e l l e s a v o i e n t p o u v o i r De t r o u b l e r l e s grands m e r s , e t t o u s l e s v e n t s m o u v o i r . Les ombres des tombeaux t i r e r des m o r t s t r o u b l e z Donner c o n t r e tous maux remede e t g u a r i s o n , E t c h a s s e r d e v a n t soy l e charme e t l a p o i s o n . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 3 v - 5 4 r ) I n s h o r t , t h e D r u i d s ' r e l i g i o u s p r a c t i c e p e r m i t t e d a h a r m o n i o u s r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f h e a v e n and e a r t h t h r o u g h a l l forms o f k n o w l e d g e c u l m i n a t i n g i n n a t u r a l magic r e l a t e d t o a s t r o l o g y . The D r u i d s e x e m p l i f i e d f o r L a B o d e r i e h i s i d e a l o f t h e p e r f e c t man, i n harmony w i t h h i m s e l f and a t t u n e d t o t h e u n i v e r s e and t h u s a b l e t o f u l f i l l h i s r o l e o f u n i t i n g 121 God and c r e a t i o n : V o i r e s i l 1 homme a r r i v e a p a r f a i c t e a c c o r d a n c e , I I p o u r r a commander j u s q u ' a l a P r o v i d e n c e P a r d e s s u s t o u s l e s C i e u x . . . . T a n t grande e s t l a p u i s s a n c e , e t h a u t a i n l e c o u r a g e De l'homme a D i e u c o n j o i n t , e t Chef de s o n o u v r a g e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 5 v ) Man t h e m i c r o c o s m becomes t h e means o f c o m p l e t i n g a p e r f e c t c i r c l e t h r o u g h h i s u n i q u e g i f t o f l e a r n i n g w h i c h a l l o w s h i m to r e l a t e c r e a t i o n t o t h e C r e a t o r : 0 v r a y D i e u que c e s t homme e s t un m i r a c l e g r a n d , Q u i en s o y l ' A b r e g e de t r o i s mondes c o m p r e n d , E t dans l e q u e l t u f a i s toymesme r e s i d e n c e Chef de N a t u r e , e t d ' A r t , D e s t i n , e t P r o v i d e n c e ! C ' e s t l e P r i n c e e t P r e l a t que t u v o u l u s l o g e r En t o n g r a n d Temple r o n d , h e r a u t e t messager Que t u as e s t a b l y e n t r e t e s C r e a t u r e s , Aux p u r e s f a m i l i e r , r e d o u t a b l e aux i m p u r e s , De N a t u r e i n t e r p r e t e , e n t r e - d e u x e t moyen D ' E t e r n i t e e t temps, du Monde l e l i e n , L e N e u d , l ' A c c o u p l e m e n t , ou p l u s t o s t l ' H y m e n e e , Dont en T e r r e e s t l e C i e l , l a T e r r e au C i e l menee. ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 6 r ) A l t h o u g h t h e u r g i c m a g i c used f o r a r e l i g i o u s p u r p o s e was the h i g h e s t f o r m o f D r u i d i c k n o w l e d g e , L a B o d e r i e condemns an i r r e s p o n s i b l e v r use o f o c c u l t k n o w l e d g e f o r p e r s o n a l g a i n ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 58 -59 ) . O n l y t h e o r i g i n a l D r u i d s , n o t L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s , may be e x c u s e d t h e i r e r r o r s inasmuch as t h e y h a d n o t known t h e C h r i s t i a n r e v e l a t i o n : Des t e n e b r e s d ' e r r e u r s i l s e s t o i e n t o b s c u r c i e s , E t V e r i t e nous a de s e s r a i s e s c l a r c i s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 9 r ) H a v i n g a s s i g n e d t o t h e D r u i d s the s o u r c e o f a l l k n o w l e d g e w h i c h was l a t e r t o f l o w t o t h e g r e a t p h i l o s o p h e r - p r i e s t s and s c i e n t i s t s o f t h e 122 a n c i e n t w o r l d , L a B o d e r i e c o m p l e t e s h i s T h i r d C i r c l e by p r a i s i n g t h e r e t u r n o f t h a t h e r i t a g e i n t h e g r e a t p h i l o s o p h e r s and t h e o l o g i a n s , s a i n t s and h u m a n i s t s o f R e n a i s s a n c e F r a n c e . F r a n c e has t r a d i t i o n a l l y e n c o u r a g e d p h i l o s o p h e r s and a r t i s t s , f o r i t i s t h e home o f t h e g r e a t u n i v e r s i t i e s , as w e l l as o f t h e j e u x f l o r a u x , t h e p o e t i c puy i n w h i c h L a B o d e r i e h i m s e l f had won fame ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 6 8 V - 7 3 r ) . ^ The T h i r d C i r c l e c l o s e s , t h e r e - f o r e , w i t h p r a i s e o f t h e g r e a t e x e m p l a r s o f p i e t y and l e a r n i n g i n t h e t r a d i t i o n o f t h e o r i g i n a l D r u i d p h i l o s o p h e r - p r i e s t s . A d d r e s s i n g t h e s e w o r t h y s u c c e s s o r s as " E s p r i t s d i v i n s , e t de h a u t e v a l u g , " L a B o d e r i e i n c l u d e s i n h i s e u l o g y t h e o l o g i a n s , s a i n t s , l a w y e r s , o r a t o r s , and d o c t o r s , f r o m S a i n t D e n i s t o Ambrose P a r e \ A l l a r e w i t n e s s t o t h e c o m p l e t i o n o f t h e c i r c l e o f h i g h e s t k n o w l e d g e whose o r i g i n was t h e G a l l i c D r u i d s . The F o u r t h and F i f t h C i r c l e s t r e a t o f m u s i c and p o e t r y r e s p e c t - i v e l y . F r a n c e s Y a t e s has u n d e r l i n e d t h e s p i r i t common t o L a B o d e r i e and t o t h e B a i f Academy i n t h e l i n k i n g o f t h e s e a r t s . ^ M u s i c i s t h e supreme m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f harmony as a p r i n c i p l e o f o r d e r , t o t a l i t y and C h r i s t i a n 76 l o v e . I n so f a r as i t i s r e l a t e d t o m a t h e m a t i c a l k n o w l e d g e i t i s a means f o r man t o s u r p a s s h i s s e n s o r y c a p a c i t i e s i n o r d e r t o p a r t i c i p a t e i n d i v i n e I n t e l l i g e n c e w h i c h i s t h e p r i n c i p l e o f a l l c r e a t i o n . M u s i c i s t h u s f a r more t h a n an a r t o f d e l e c t a t i o n o f t h e s e n s e s . I t i s a s u p r e m e l y s e r i o u s s t u d y , t h e most u s e f u l o f t h e s c i e n c e s . I t s harmony p r o v i d e s man w i t h a m o d e l o f good h e a l t h i n body and i n s p i r i t and o f c o n c o r d i n t h e body p o l i t i c , as P y t h a g o r a s and P l a t o h a d t a u g h t . Even more i m p o r t a n t , h o w e v e r , t h e laws o f m u s i c a l harmony s u g g e s t a 123 d i v i n e u n i v e r s a l a t t u n e m e n t w h i c h s i n c e t h e F a l l i s beyond man's s e n s o r y c a p a b i l i t i e s and even beyond h i s i n t e l l e c t u a l c o m p r e h e n s i o n . ^ F u r t h e r - m o r e , t h e m u s i c a l s c a l e r e p r e s e n t i n g t h e t o t a l i t y o f t h e w o r l d s o u l w h i c h i s r e f l e c t e d by t h e human s o u l i s a means o f r e p r e s e n t i n g f i g u r a - t i v e l y t h e p e r f e c t i o n o f d i v i n e c r e a t i o n . F o r L a B o d e r i e a n a l y s i s o f m u s i c a l harmony i s t h u s e s s e n t i a l l y a means o f a p p r e h e n s i o n o f t h e d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e w h i c h i n f o r m s a l l c r e a t i o n . Through a s t u d y o f m u s i c man c a n 78 l e a r n s o m e t h i n g o f G o d ; by t h e power o f m u s i c he c a n a t t a i n a m y s t i c a l e l e v a t i o n o f t h e s o u l t o God w h i c h i s a f o r e k n o w l e d g e o f e t e r n i t y . L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e f a t o r y s t a t e m e n t e s t a b l i s h e s t h e c o n t e x t o f h i s s t u d y o f m u s i c : Au q u a t r i e m e C e r c l e , j ' a y t r a i t s de l a M u s i q u e , e t H a r m o n i e , t a n t du Monde A r c h e t y p e , C e l e s t e , e t E l e m e n t a i r e , que c e l l e de 1'Homme ou du P e t i t - M o n d e , e t des m e r v e i l l e u x e f f e t s q u ' e l l e p r o d u i t . ( G a l l i a d e ; A d v e r t i s s e m e n t aux l e c t e u r s ) C o n s t a n t i n h i s p u r p o s e t o show G a u l as t h e home o f a l l k n o w l e d g e , L a B o d e r i e a t t r i b u t e s t h e o r i g i n s o f m u s i c and o f p o e t r y t o t h e s i x t h k i n g o f t h e G a u l s , B a r d u s , whose name t r a n s c r i b e d i n t o C h a l d a e a n s i g n i f i e s " f i l s du Fondement" o r " f i l s de l a R e s o n n a n c e . " H i s f o l l o w e r s a r e s a i d t o have i n v e n t e d t h e m u s i c a l i n s t r u m e n t s ( n o t a b l y t h e o r g a n , t h e v i o l , t h e l u t e , t h e h a r p and t h e l y r e ) and t o have e x e r c i s e d t h e i r m u s i c a l a r t w i t h s u c h s p i r i t u a l p u r i t y t h a t even w a r r i o r s i n t h e m i d s t r r o f b a t t l e were r e n d e r e d p e a c e f u l ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 77 - 7 8 ) . B a r d u s i s s a i d t o have u n d e r s t o o d t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f c e l e s t i a l m u s i c on w h i c h human m u s i c i s p a t t e r n e d . To h i m i s a t t r i b u t e d a P l a t o n i c c o n c e p t o f 124 t h e m u s i c o f t h e s p h e r e s ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 79 ) . The supreme U n i t y o f t h e w o r l d s o u l g e n e r a t e s f r o m i t s p l e n i t u d e t h e numbers whose a t t u n e m e n t p r o d u c e s a h e a v e n l y h a r m o n y . That harmony i s t h e p r i n c i p l e o f c r e a t i o n : Donq l e nombre p r e m i e r q u i s ' a s s i e d e t se met A i n s i q u ' e n P y r a m i d e a l a p o i n c t e e t sommet, E s t l a s a i n c t e U n i t e ! . . . Or de ces nombres beaux d e s q u e l s D i e u composa L'Ame de l ' U n i v e r s , a l o r s q u ' i l d i s p o s a T o u t ce q u i e s t , q u i v i t , e t q u i s e n t en N a t u r e E t t o u t ce q u i e n t e n d e , p a r p o i d s , nombre e t m e s u r e , Se f o r m e n t e n t r e nous l e s s i x g e n r e s d ' a c c o r d s S u r l e s tons s o n o r e u x des grands C e l e s t e s c o r p s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 7 9 v ) The m a j o r p o r t i o n o f t h e f o u r t h C i r c l e i s d e v o t e d t o e l a b o r a t i o n o f m u s i c a l t h e o r y and o f t h e theme o f c o s m i c h a r m o n y . I n b o t h s u b j e c t s L a B o d e r i e ' s d e b t t o b o t h t h e P l a t o n i c and K a b b a l i s t i c t r a d i t i o n s i s c l e a r . D a v i d , O r p h e u s , P y t h a g o r a s and P l a t o a r e shown t o have i l l u s t r a t e d o r d e s c r i b e d t h e u n i v e r s a l harmony whose a n a l y s i s r e l a t e s Greek m a t h e m a t i c s t o K a b b a l i s t i c m y s t i c i s m . G r e e k M u s i c a l t h e o r y i s e x p l a i n e d i n terms o f t h e S e p h i r o t h . The w h o l e i s made t o i l l u s t r a t e C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e , as f o r example i n t h e supreme harmony o f C h r i s t t h e A r c h e t y p e : M a i s l ' H o m m e - D i e u J E S U S , l e C h r i s t , l ' O i n t , l e D a v i d Q u i de D a v i d 1 ' e s p r i t p a r s o n E s p r i t r a v i t , Du Systeme f o r m e l e s t l a q u i n z i e s m e c h o r d e . E t l e d i x i e s m e n e r f du d i v i n D e c a c h o r d e , Q u i p o u r s ' e s t r e a b a i s s g , e t comme a n n e a n t y En v e s t a n t n o s t r e c h a i r . . . . . . s ' e s t s i h a u t r e j e t t e Que du s e p u l c h r e y s s a n t sans e n rompre l a p i e r r e , T r a v e r s a l e s d i x C i e u x . . . E t monta p a r - d e s s u s l e s n e u f o r d r e s des Anges Q u i en nombreux a c c o r d s r e s o n n e n t s e s l o u a n g e s , J u s q u ' a u c e r c l e i n f i n i de l a D i v i n i t y . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 9 1 r V ) 125 The d i v i n e u n i v e r s a l p r i n c i p l e o f harmony n o t o n l y g e n e r a t e s t h e m u s i c o f t h e s p h e r e s b u t a l s o c o n s t i t u t e s t h e b a s i s o f e a r t h l y h a r m o n y : S i donques 1 ' A r c h e t y p e , e t l e s C i e u x a c c o m p l i s , L'Homme, e t l e s E l e m e n t s s o n t de l ' E s p r i t r e m p l i s , L ' E s p r i t h a r m o n i e u x , e t s i ce q u i embrasse T o u t e chose dans s o y , q u ' i l a c c o r d e e t compasse A s c i e n c e de v o i x . . . Se d o i t - o n e s t o n n e r que p a r s e c r e t e amorce E l l e en f a c e s e n t i r aux Animaux l a f o r c e ? ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 9 1 v - 9 2 r ) A l l c r e a t i o n i s thus r e c e p t i v e t o t h e e f f e c t s o f m u s i c . R e f e r r i n g t o c l a s s i c a l G r e e k a u t h o r s as w e l l as t o t h e Z o h a r , L a B o d e r i e i l l u s t r a t e s c a t h a r t i c , t h e r a p e u t i c , c o n s o l a t o r y , e t h i c a l , m a r t i a l and p r o p h e t i c powers o f m u s i c . He s t r e s s e s t h e theme o f m u s i c as i l l u s t r a t i n g t h e p r i n c i p l e o f o r d e r , o f r e a s o n o v e r t h e s e n s e s , and t h e P l a t o n i c theme o f i t s u s e f u l n e s s i n t h e body p o l i t i c as an i n s t r u m e n t o f j u s t i c e and p i e t y . Thus L a B o d e r i e t h e a p o l o g i s t and p r o p h e t o f r e s t i t u t i o n i s l e d t o e n u n c i a t e h i s c o n c e p t i o n o f t h e p o e t - m u s i c i a n as c o u n s e l l o r t o k i n g s : E n t o n n e z , e n t o n n e z au c o e u r des P r i n c e s b r a v e A mode D o r i e n n e , e t t o n s e v e r e e t g r a v e , L a v r a y e P i e t e , e t du g r a n d D i e u l e s d r o i t s Q u i f a i t e t q u i d e s f a i t l e s Regnes e t l e s R o i s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 9 6 v ) C i v i l s t r i f e i n t h e body p o l i t i c o f F r a n c e , l i k e s i n i n the m i c r o c o s m , i s a t e m p o r a r y d i s s o n a n c e : A i n s i l ' A m e e s t c o n f u s e au p o l i t i q u e c o r p s , E t l e g r a n d l u t h du Regne a p e r d u ses a c c o r d s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 9 6 v ) 126 The p r i n c i p l e o f r e t u r n f o u n d i n t h e d e s c e n d a n t - a s c e n d a n t movement o f P l o t i n u s ' N e o - P l a t o n i s t m e t a p h y s i c s as w e l l as i n t h e c i r c u l a r movement o f t h e K a b b a l i s t i c S e p h i r o t h and i n t h e C h r i s t i a n c o n c e p t o f m a n ' s c r e a t i o n , f a l l and r e d e m p t i o n a l l s u g g e s t t h a t t h e d i s c o r d a n t d e v i a t i o n s o f human h i s t o r y i n d i c a t e t h e need f o r t h e p o e t t o show t h e way t o a r e t u r n t o h a r m o n y . The H e r m e t i c P i m a n d e r c o n f i r m s t h e h a r m o n i c p r i n c i p l e o f c r e a t i o n as a p r o o f o f t h e i m m o r t a l i t y o f t h e s o u l , f o r e v e r y t h i n g r e t u r n s t o i t s o r i g i n a l f o r m : S ' e l l e [ l ' a m e ] e s t o i t h a r m o n i e , i l f a u d r o i t p a r r a i s o n Q u ' e l l e s ' a l i a s t r e j o i n d r e en h a r m o n i e r g s o n . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 9 9 v ) S i n c e t h e d i v i n e harmony a c c o r d i n g t o w h i c h t h e s o u l i s c o n s t i t u t e d makes i t r e c e p t i v e t o h o l y m u s i c , t h e supreme p u r p o s e o f t h e m u s i c i a n , as o f t h e p o e t , i s t o g l o r i f y t h e d i v i n e w i t h s a c r e d hymns: Donq de m o t e t s d i v i n s e t c a n t i q u e s t r e s s a i n t s F a i t e s que s e s a c c o r d s dans l e c o r p s s o i e n t a t t e i n t s , E t l ' y e n t r e t e n e z p a r une n o u r r i t u r e Q u i de n a t u r e s o i t conformes a s a n a t u r e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 0 r ) The p o e t - m u s i c i a n must i m i t a t e t h e d i v i n e harmony o f t h e s p h e r e s , t h a t g r e a t c o s m i c dance w h i c h f i g u r e s d y n a m i c a l l y t h e o r d e r and d e g r e e o f t h e u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n i c p r i n c i p l e : F a i t e s - m o y t o u r n o y e r p a r nombreuses p a r o l l e s E t l e s E s p r i t s mouvans, e t du C i e l l e s c a r o l l e s : E n t o n n e z es t u y a u x des Orgues l o n g s e t r o n d s Des C i e u x o r g a n i s e z l a M u s i q u e e t l e s t o n s : F a i t e s s u r l e c l a v i e r d ' u n e douce E s p i n e t e M a r c h e r d ' o r d r e e t de r a n g P l a n e t e a p r e s P l a n e t e Sous l e b a l du g r a n d C i e l . . . . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 1 r ) M u s i c i s p r e p o n d e r a n t among t h e a r t s , f o r i t i s a t once t h e 127 m o d e l and the means t o u n i v e r s a l harmony and p e a c e . L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t o f h i s p e r s o n a l m i s s i o n i s nowhere b e t t e r e x p r e s s e d t h a n i n h i s c o n c l u d i n g hymn t o G o d . He w i s h e s t o be above a l l a s t i m u l u s f o r t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f a n e w l y s e r i o u s and s p i r i t u a l p o e t r y c l o s e l y a l l i e d i n f o r m and c o n t e n t t o t h e P s a l m s : Sus s u s , P l a s t e r i o n , sus sus 6 H a r p e e n c o r e , T o s t t o s t r e s v e i l l e z - v o u s , j ' e s v e i l l e r a y l ' A u r o r e : I I me p l a i s t , i l me p l a i s t o r ' l e pas a v a n c e r , E t d ' u n s a u l t r e d o u b l e d e v a n t l ' A r c h e d a n c e r , E t p a r un A v a n t - j e u vous m o n s t r e r p a r exemple Comme on d o i t l o u S r D i e u dedans s o n s a c r S T e m p l e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 3 r ) The p o e t - m u s i c i a n who w o u l d f o l l o w h i s example o f v i r t u e and l e a r n i n g s h o u l d a t t a i n a p u r e s e n s i t i v i t y e q u a l t o t h a t o f p r e l a p s a r i a n man, a b l e t o h e a r t h e c e l e s t i a l harmony beyond t h e s e n s o r y c a p a b i l i t i e s o f f a l l e n man, and t o p e n e t r a t e t o e c s t a t i c communion w i t h G o d , " l ' O e i l de l a P e n s t S e " : 0 nous t o u s d ' u n e v o i x r e n d o n g r a c e s a c r e e A l u y q u i meut l e s C i e u x , e t l a N a t u r e c r e e : C ' e s t l ' o e i l de l a P e n s e e , e t l u y q u i l a c o n q o i t , L'hymne b i e n v o l o n t i e r s des P u i s s a n c e s r e c o i t . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 105*) The t r u e p o e t e x p e r i e n c e s an e c s t a t i c s y n e s t h e s i a o f t h e N e o - P l a t o n i c d i v i n e l i g h t and m u s i c : L o u e z l ' U N e t l e T o u t , o mes f o r c e s , q u ' o n oye L e s v e r t u s de mon Ame a c c o r d e r a ma j o y e . 0 C o n n a i s s a n c e s a i n t e , Ame p l e i n e d ' a r d e u r Q u i emprunte de soy s a l u m i e r e e t s p l e n d e u r , P a r t o y c h a n t a n t i c y l a l u m i e r e e n t e n d i b l e Mon c o e u r t r e s s a u t e , e t s e n t une j o y e i n d i c i b l e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 5 r ) C l a s s i c s y n e s t h e s i a as a m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f w o r l d harmony i n f o r m s t h e C h r i s t i a n R e n a i s s a n c e s p i r i t w h i c h i s sometimes l o o s e l y termed 128 " p a n t h e i s m . " I t i s c e n t r a l t o L a B o d e r i e ' s m e t a p h o r o f t h e p o e t - m u s i c i a n a t t u n i n g h i s i n s t r u m e n t , w i t h t h e r e l i g i o u s c o n n o t a t i o n o f h i s a t t u n i n g h i s s o u l t o d i v i n e harmony as shown i n t h e u n i v e r s e and as o f h i s s a c r e d r o l e o f t h e t u n i n g o f man t o t h e w i l l o f God t h e * . 80 A r c h i m u s i c u s . A f i n a l a p o s t r o p h e t o t h e " C h a n t r e s des R o i s " admonishes them t o i m i t a t e D a v i d i n s i n g i n g u n t o t h e L o r d a new song t o t h e g l o r y o f God and f o r t h e m o r a l e n l i g h t e n m e n t o f man, and echoes f o r t h i s p u r p o s e a l l t h e m u s i c a l i n s t r u m e n t s o f P s a l m C L . The s e r i o u s n e s s o f t h e m u s i c i a n ' s r o l e i s c o m p a r a b l e t o t h a t o f t h e p o e t : Vous donq q u i r e c r e e z l e s P r i n c e s a l e u r t a b l e , Rendez-moy p a r t e l s c h a n t s l e u r p l a i s i r p r o f i t a b l e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 6 v ) M u s i c and p o e t r y have b e e n , i n f a c t , i n d i s s o l u b l y a l l i e d f r o m t h e t i m e o f t h e i r common B a r d i c o r i g i n : A i n s i de m a i n en m a i n l a M u s i q u e c h o i s i e Q u i a n i m e , e t q u i meut l a douce P o e s i e , E t l a p o r t e dans l ' a i r s u r s e s a c c o r d s a i l e z , P r i n t s o n commencement des B a r d e s o r e i l l e z , Q u i l e s p r e m i e r s o n t j o i n t l e s v e r s a. l a M u s i q u e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 7 r ) P o e t r y , t h e s u b j e c t o f t h e F i f t h C i r c l e , i s f o r L a B o d e r i e t h e t w i n s i s t e r o f m u s i c , i n s e p a r a b l e f r o m i t n o t o n l y i n i t s f o u n d a t i o n on number and measure b u t a l s o i n i t s p u r p o s e o f g l o r i f y i n g t h e d i v i n e . Y e t t h e t r u e p o e t i s e v e n s u p e r i o r t o t h e m u s i c i a n , f o r n o t o n l y does he i n c o r p o r a t e t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f o r d e r and s y n t h e s i s b u t a l s o he i s t h e p h i l o s o p h e r - p r i e s t and d i v i n e l y - i n s p i r e d p r o p h e t . H i s model i s L a B o d e r i e 129 O r p h e u s , t h e e t h i c a l l y i n f l u e n t i a l s i n g e r l e a d i n g a l l c r e a t i o n by h i s m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s " and whose name a n a l y s e d by " f e m i t h o l o g i e " shows h i m t o be t h e " B o u c h e de L u m i e r e " ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 1 5 V ) o r spokesman o f t h e d i v i n e I n t e l l i g e n c e . L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e f a c e u n d e r l i n e s the e x c e p t i o n a l p o s i t i o n o f p o e t r y i n h i s a l l - e n c o m p a s s i n g h i s t o r y o f human a r t s and s c i e n c e s : F i n a l e m e n t au c i n q u i e m e e t d e r n i e r [ C e r c l e ] j ' a y t r a i t e de l a P o e s i e ^ l a q u e l l e b i e n que j e l ' a y e m i s e e n t r e l e s A r t s e t s c i e n c e s , semble t o u t e s f o i s e s t r e p l u s t o s t une s a i n c t e f u r e u r e t e l e v a t i o n d ' e s p r i t , que non pas une d o c t r i n e a c q u i s e p a r i n d u s t r i e e t p u i s s a n c e humaine . . . . ( G a l l i a d e , A d v e r t i s s e m e n t aux l e c t e U r s ) P o e t i c e x c e l l e n c e f o r L a B o d e r i e i s t h u s c l e a r l y r e l a t e d t o F i c i n o ' s N e o - P l a t o n i c t h e o r i e s o f d i v i n e f e r v o u r a d o p t e d by R o n s a r d r a t h e r t h a n 81 t o Du B e l l a y ' s p r e s c r i p t i o n s f o r a r t i s t i c e x c e l l e n c e . I t i s n o t s u r p r i s i n g t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s u n i q u e d e f e n c e and i l l u s t r a t i o n o f F r e n c h l a n g u a g e and l i t e r a t u r e i s e s t a b l i s h e d on p r e m i s e s b o t h more r e l i g i o - n a t i o n a l i s t i c and l e s s l i n g u i s t i c a l l y p r e c i s e t h a n t h o s e o f Du B e l l a y . L a B o d e r i e ' s e n d u r i n g d i s t r u s t o f t h e a n c i e n t p o l y t h e i s t i c G r e e k s f o r b i d s h i s a d o p t i n g t h e P l e i a d e ' s i n j u n c t i o n o f i m i t a t i o n o f c l a s s i c a l models j u s t as i t p r e v e n t s h i s j u s t a p p r e c i a t i o n o f h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s who h a d e x c e l l e d i n s u c h i m i t a t i o n . H i s m i s t r u s t o f t h e " f a u x G r e g e o i s " and o f t h e i r p o l y t h e i s t i c m y t h o l o g y i s e v i d e n t i n h i s d e s i r e t o a s s i g n t h e o r i g i n s o f t r u e p o e t r y to t h e s i m p l e r and p u r e r age o f t h e D r u i d i c B a r d s when: L a p e i n t u r e du C i e l n ' e s t o i t l o r s d e s g u i s e e 130 Des f a b l e s d o n t l a G r e c e a e s t e a b u s e e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 7 V ) The p r i n c i p l e o f u n i t y i n d i v e r s i t y w h i c h i n f o r m s a l l L a B o d e r i e ' s t h o u g h t i s a f f i r m e d t o have b e e n u n d e r s t o o d by t h e a n c i e n t G a l l i c s i n g e r s who, a l t h o u g h t h e y l e f t no w r i t t e n r e c o r d o f t h e i r p r o d u c t i o n , a r e r e v e r e d as t h e o r i g i n a l t r u e p o e t s : L e s B a r d e s s i m p l e m e n t d e s i g n o i e n t l a p e i n t u r e Du g r a n d t a b l e a u du C i e l , e t l e s f a i t s de N a t u r e C h e r c h e z p r o f o n d e m e n t , e t en t o u t l ' U n i v e r s Un s e u l D i e u p r e s i d o i e n t a t o u s o e u v r e s d i v e r s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 8 r ) The l a w s o f v e r s i f i c a t i o n a r e a t t r i b u t e d t o B a r d u s , whose name t r a n s c r i b e d f r o m t h e C h a l d a e a n as " f i l s de l a R e s o n n a n c e " shows h i s f i t t i n g n e s s f o r t h e a t t u n i n g o f t h e w o r l d ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 77 n . ) . P o e t i c f o r m i s however s e c o n d a r y t o i t s r e l i g i o u s and e t h i c a l p u r p o s e : Donq l ' a n c i e n B a r d u s f i l s de l a Resonnance E t p e r e des doux v e r s e t de l a C o n s o n a n c e , . . . i n v e n t a s e u l l e s l o i s Des carmes s o n o r e u x , e t s o n o r e u s e s modes P o u r l o u e r l e g r a n d D i e u e t l e s hommes en O d e s , E t e n v o y e r l e nom aux s i e c l e s e n s u i v a n s Des P i e u x t u e z en g u e r r e , e t p a r g l o i r e v i v a n s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 8 v ) M u s i c and p o e t r y were t h u s f r o m t h e f i r s t i n d i s s o l u b l y a l l i e d i n t h e "carmes s o n o r e u x " : E t s ' e n t r ' a i m o i e n t l e s deux en s i p a r f a i t s a c c o r d s , Que ce n ' e s t o i t q u ' u n e Ame e n v i g o u r a n t deux c o r p s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 9 v ) T h a t n a t u r a l a l l i a n c e , l i k e t h e a r t l e s s s i n c e r i t y w h i c h L a B o d e r i e opposes t o t h e " f e i n t a r t i f i c e " o f t h e G r e e k s and o f many o f h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s , i s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h p o e t r y o f an e s s e n t i a l l y i n s p i r e d 131 and i n s p i r a t i o n a l n a t u r e . Thus m u s i c and p o e t r y a r e s a i d t o have a t t a i n e d a s i m p l e p e r f e c t i o n i n p o s t - d i l u v e a n G a u l : P a r n a t u r e e t sans a r t a m e i n t s b i e n - n e z e s p r i s Le moyen de c h a n t e r des Odes e t des Hymnes, E t se f a i r e r a v i r p a r ces f u r e u r s d i v i n e s Q u i d e s r o b e n t n o s t r e Ame, e t l u y f o n t v o i r au s e i n Des h a u t e s D e i t e z m e i n t s u b l i m e d e s s e i n . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 9 V ) V a r i a t i o n s on t h e theme o f d i v i n e f e r v o u r , t h e " E n t h o u s i a s m e s a i n c t " o f t h e t r u e p o e t , r e f l e c t a K a b b a l i s t i c r e v e r e n c e f o r d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n i n f i g u r a t i v e f o r m . The t r i u m p h a l hymn a f t e r t h e c r o s s i n g o f t h e Red S e a , as w e l l as t h e e l e g i a c v e r s e o f t h e Book o f Job and t h e t h e u r g i c power o f J o s h u a ' s i n c a n t a t i o n b e f o r e t h e w a l l s o f J e r i c h o a r e a l l a t t r i b u t e d t o Moses as p r i e s t and p r o t o t y p e o f t h e m a r r i a g e o f m u s i c and t h e p o e t i c muse i n v o c a l g l o r i f i c a t i o n o f G o d . A g a i n K a b b a l i s t i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e name, M o s e s - M u s i c - M u s e , j u s t i f i e s t h e c o n c e p t : E t t o u t e n t r e l e s Gents f u t t o u s j o u r s e s t i m e e Sa s c i e n c e d i v i n e e t c l a i r e renommee, Q u i s c e u t s i b i e n n o u r r i r de l a manne des C i e u x Ces deux g e m e l l e s S e u r s au s o n d e l i c i e u x , Que l o n g s s i e c l e s a p r e s l a Muse e t l a M u s i q u e U s e r e n t s i m p l e m e n t de l a l a n g u e H e b r a i q u e Sans mensonge e t s a n s f a r d , s a n s i m p u d i q u e e s c r i t , P o u r l o u S r D i e u sans p l u s e t de bouche e t d ' e s p r i t . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . l l l r ) D a v i d ' s p s a l m s and S o l o m o n ' s Song o f Songs a r e f u r t h e r e v i d e n c e o f t h e supremacy o f d i v i n e l y - i n s p i r e d p o e t r y whose e x p r e s s i o n i s e s s e n t i a l l y m u s i c a l . L a B o d e r i e ' s N e o - P l a t o n i c theme o f d i v i n e " s e c r e t " r e v e l a t i o n t h r o u g h t h e v e i l i n g o f t r u t h by p o e t i c metaphor i s i l l u s t r a t e d i n h i s 132 p r e s e n t a t i o n o f Orpheus as t h e p o e t - m u s i c i a n p a r e x c e l l e n c e . As e l s e - where i n L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k , Orpheus i s d i s t i n g u i s h e d f r o m t h e e a r l y G r e e k s b e c a u s e o f t h e m o n o t h e i s t i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n w h i c h L a B o d e r i e and h i s N e o - P l a t o n i c p r e d e c e s s o r s gave t o h i s w o r k . Orpheus i s shown t o have announced t h e i m p o r t a n t themes o f t h e T r i n i t y , o f c r e a t i o n by d i v i n e I n t e l l i g e n c e , o f t h e A p o c a l y p s e , and o f t h e harmony o f t h e t o t a l i t y o f c r e a t i o n i n t h e d i v i n e U n i t y . He i s p r e s e n t e d as t h e p o e t o f d i v i n e f r e n z y who a d a p t e d t h e C h a l d a e a n c o n c e p t o f t h e w i n e o f s p i r i t u a l s u s t e n a n c e t o t h e " d o u c e u r s i n f u s e s " o f Bacchus and t h e M u s e s . I n t h i s h i s t o r i c a l s u r v e y o f the d e v e l o p m e n t o f p o e t r y , L a B o d e r i e shows Orpheus t o have l e a r n e d f r o m t h e E g y p t i a n s t h e n e c e s s a r y a r t o f p o e t i c v e i l i n g o f t r u t h w h i c h t h e y , i n t u r n , had r e c e i v e d as a M o s a i c h e r i t a g e . Hermes T r i s m e g i s t u s , t h e S i b y l l i n e o r a c l e s , and Z o r o a s t e r a r e s a i d t o h a v e b e e n t h e means o f h i s i n i t i a t i o n i n t o t h e s a c r e d r i t e s o f p o e t i c r e v e l a t i o n . The h i d d e n t r u t h , d i v i n e l y r e v e a l e d t o t h e i n i t i a t e p o e t - p r i e s t , was t o be e x p r e s s e d b y h i m o n l y i n t h e h a r m o n i o u s v e r s e and m e t a p h o r i c v e i l s o f p o e t r y . L i k e t h e g o l d e n a p p l e s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s e p i g r a p h f o r t h e E n c y c l i e , t h e b e a u t y o f O r p h e u s ' v e r s e was an i n d i c a t i o n o f i t s d i v i n e i n s p i r a t i o n : M a i s l u y a q u i de D i e u l a d o c t r i n e c e l e e S e c r e t t e a v o i t e s t e en s e c r e t r e v e l e e Sous l e s a c r e s i l e n c e , a i n s i que l e s d i s c r e t s S e c r e t a i r e s d i v i n s r e v e l o i c ^ t l e s s e c r e t s , L e s t r a i t a n t p a r - a p r e s en p o e t i q u e s nombres L e s p e i g n i t e t v o i l a de nuages e t d ' o m b r e s , A f i n e n t r e l e s s i e n s de se r e n d r e admire?, E t q u ' o n ne s c e u s t 1 ' a u t h e u r d o n t i l a v o i t t i r £ Ses beaux t r a i t s r a y o n n a n s sous l ' e s c o r c e des f a b l e s , Comme sous l e s b e r c e a u x des J a r d i n s d e l e c t a b l e s 133 L e r a i s i n v i o l e t , e t l e s c i t r o n s d o r e z L u i s e n t aux b o i s f u e i l l u s de v e r d e u r c o l o r e z . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 1 2 v - 1 1 3 r ) P o e t and p r i e s t became one i n t h e i r i n t e r p r e t a t i o n and r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e d i v i n e . L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t o f t r u e p o e t r y i s c l o s e l y r e l a t e d t o P i c o ' s p r o j e c t e d " p o e t i c t h e o l o g y " w h i c h w o u l d be a summa o f a l l k n o w l e d g e , a r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f a l l phenomena t h r o u g h an 82 u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t h e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s w h i c h l i n k man t o G o d . Thus O r p h e u s , w i t h L i n u s and M u s a e u s , a r e t o be r e v e r e d as A u g u s t i n e had t a u g h t : . . . p o u r a v o i r t r a i t e en l e u r s v e r s M u s i c a u x L e s m y s t e r e s d i v i n s , e t s e c r e t s P h y s i c a u x A v e c l a n a t u r e l l e e t p r o f o n d e M a g i e , Sont d i t s l e s t r o i s A u t h e u r s de l a T h e o l o g i e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 1 6 r ) L a B o d e r i e ' s h i s t o r i c a l s u r v e y o f t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f p o e t r y t h u s moves t o G r e e c e t o w h i c h Orpheus i s s a i d t o h a v e b r o u g h t t h e h e r i t a g e o f t h e G a u l s f r o m t h e J e w i s h and C h a l d a e a n p o e t - p r i e s t s who h a d t r a n s m i t t e d t h e s e c r e t d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n , " d o c t r i n e g a r d e e , " i n a f i g u r a t i v e f a s h i o n , " e n sens c o u v e r s " ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 1 6 V ) . There f o l l o w s a s u r v e y o f t h e G r e e k p o e t s i n a l l t h e g e n r e s f r o m e p i c t o l y r i c t o show t h e c o m p r e h e n s i v e n e s s o f t h e p o e t i c muse: E t b r e f e n t r e l e s G r e c s l a Muse a bouche r o n d e A s u r t o u t argument d e s p l o y e s a f a c o n d e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 1 9 r ) From G r e e c e , p o e t r y and m u s i c a r e f o l l o w e d t o Rome w h e r e , a l t h o u g h somewhat deformed " e n c h a n t s l a s c i f s e t m o u l s , " t h e y were e v e n t u a l l y r e s t o r e d t o s o n o r o u s d i g n i t y b y t h e g r e a t V i r g i l . Among t h e L a t i n p o e t s 134 L a B o d e r i e c o n s i d e r s w o r t h y o f m e n t i o n t h e r e f i g u r e a l s o H o r a c e , P r o p e r t i u s , T i b u l l u s , C a t u l l u s , O v i d , M a n i l i u s , L u c a n , t h e G a u l S t a t i u s , S e n e c a , M a r t i a l , B o e t h i u s , and t h e G a u l s A u s o n i u s and S i d o n i u s A p o l i n a r u s . Dante a l o n e i s h o n o r e d among t h e p o e t s o f t h e l a t e M i d d l e A g e s . W i t h P e t r a r c h he i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f p o e t r y ' s a d o p t i o n o f t h e v u l g a r t o n g u e . S a n n a z a r o , Bembo, A r e t i n o , and A r i o s t o a r e d i s t i n g u i s h e d among t h e p o e t s o f t h e I t a l i a n R e n a i s s a n c e . B u t a g a i n L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e d i l e c t i o n f o r a s o l e m n and s e r i o u s p o e t r y i s a p p a r e n t i n h i s c r i t i c i s m o f t h e v e n a l and a r t i f i c i a l t o n e o f I t a l i a n R e n a i s s a n c e p o e t r y and m u s i c : T o u t a i n s i l e s deux S e u r s e r r a n t ' s p a r l a Toscane Ont a c q u i s non un t e i n t e t c o u l e u r de b a s a n e , A i n c o i s un t e i n t f a r d e , un m a i n t i e n d e c e v a n t , E t g e s t e s p l u s l a s c i f s q u ' o n q u e s au p a r a v a n t , Un Amour f e i n t q u i s q a i t l e t r a n s y c o n t r e f a i r e , B r e f l ' a i r I t a l i e n q u i a t o u s ne p e u t p l a i r e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 2 2 r _ v ) The c y c l i c a l h i s t o r y o f p o e t r y i s "shown t o have moved t o c o m p l e t i o n i n F r a n c e , i t s o r i g i n a l home, u n d e r F r a n c i s I . I n p r a i s e o f t h e e a r l y F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e L a B o d e r i e c i t e s M a r o t , S a l e l , M e l l i n de S a i n t G e l a i s , H e r o e t , and t h e m u s i c i a n s A l b e r t , C e r t o n , and J a n e q u i n . The age o f H e n r y I I i s shown as a f l o w e r i n g o f p o e t i c and m u s i c a l r i c h n e s s w h i c h h a d grown t h r o u g h t h e c e n t u r i e s s i n c e t h e s e m i n a l B a r d i c s i m p l e s o n g s . L a B o d e r i e p r a i s e s " l a C o n f r e r i e / Des P o e t e s d i v i n s , e t des C h a n t r e s e s l u s , " t h e " E n f a n s de l ' H a r m o n i e " ( f o l . 124 ) who have c l o s e d t h e c i r c l e o f p o e t r y ' s r e v o l u t i o n : M e r c y des beaux E s p r i t s q u i l ' o n t r e m i s e au j o u r , E t i c y a r r e s t e de s o n c e r c l e l e t o u r . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 2 4 r ) . 135 L a B o d e r i e ' s a t t r i b u t i o n o f p o e t i c e x c e l l e n c e t o h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s i s n o t a l w a y s c o n s i s t e n t w i t h t h e judgment o f l a t e r c r i t i c s . The l e a r n e d D o r a t i s g i v e n f i r s t p l a c e , b u t i s s u c c e e d e d b y h i s s o n - i n - l a w , " l e d o c t e G o u l u . " R o n s a r d i s p r a i s e d f o r h i s i m i t a t i o n o f t h e c l a s s i c s , Du B e l l a y f o r h i s g r a c e and n o b i l i t y . W i t h J o d e l l e a r e a s s o c i a t e d t h e d r a m a t i s t s P e r u s e and t h e l e a r n e d G a r n i e r . H o w e v e r , S c e v e , P e l e t i e r du Mans and P o n t u s de T y a r d m e r i t a h i g h p l a c e i n L a B o d e r i e ' s e s t i m a t i o n f o r t h e i r s e r i o u s n e s s o f p u r p o s e , the " s e n s p r o f o n d " w h i c h he r e v e r e s above a l l : P o u r c e q u ' i l s o n t change" en un p l u s g r a v e t o n L e s o n t r o p demene" d ' A m o u r , e t d ' E r a t o n , S u b l i m e s d e c o r a n s l e u r s T a b l e a u x e t p e i n t u r e Des h a u t s s e c r e t s du C i e l , e t des f a i t s de N a t u r e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 2 5 r ) I n . t h e s e " s c i e n t i f i c " p o e t s ' s t u d y o f man and o f h i s w o r l d L a B o d e r i e r e a d an a p p r o a c h t o an a p p r e h e n s i o n o f t h e D i v i n e w h i c h was h i s i d e a l f o r t h e p o e t - p r i e s t on t h e O r p h i c m o d e l . P o n t u s de T y a r d e s p e c i a l l y c o u l d be r e l a t e d t o Orpheus b e c a u s e o f h i s t r e a t m e n t o f m u s i c as t h e " i m a g e o f t h e w h o l e E n c y c l o p a e d i a " : M a i s s o i t du g r a n d T h i a r d l a c o u r o n n e a deux r a n c s Q u i a s i b i e n r e j o i n t de l a L y r e l e s f l a n e s , E t r ' a n i m a n t l a Muse e t l a M u s i q u e e n c o r e , A r'anime" P l a t o n , B o S c e , e t P y t h a g o r e . „„ ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 2 5 r ) On t h e o t h e r h a n d , B a i f , B e l l e a u , and D e s p o r t e s a r e g i v e n e q u a l p l a c e w i t h t h e Count o f A l s i n o i s " q u i a s i b i e n c h a n t S l ' E n f a n c e du C h r i s t " ir 84 85 ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 125 ) and t h e two r o y a l M a r g u e r i t e s . P a s s e r a t , t h e Normans C h a r l e s T o u s t a i n and F i l l e u l , t h e l e a r n e d M u r e t , t h e H e r m e t i c p o e t H e s t e a u de Nuysement, and t h e s c h o l a r l y Davy a r e p r a i s e d w i t h Jamyn, 136 Des A u t e l s , and t h e c o u r t p o e t V a u m e s n i l . T o g e t h e r w i t h the m u s i c i a n s 86 O r l a n d o de L a s s u s , C o u r v i l l e , B o n i , C o s t e l y and S a i n t L a u r e n t , t h e f o r e g o i n g p o e t s c o n s t i t u t e f o r L a B o d e r i e t h e consummation o f t h e G a l l i c h e r i t a g e o f p o e t i c a r d o u r i n t h e s e r v i c e o f d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n and whose m u s i c a l l y measured e x p r e s s i o n g l o r i f i e s t h e d i v i n e harmony o f t h e u n i v e r s e : B r e f t a n d i s q u ' o n v e r r a au monde e s t r e en e s t i m e L e s carmes e t l e s t o n s , l e s n o m b r e s , e t l a r y m e , S o i e n t t o u s j o u r s e s t i m e z l e s e s c r i t s e t l e s noms De vos bons E s c r i v a i n s , e t de v o s c h a n t r e s b o n s , Q u i a p r e s t a n t de t o u r s des S f e r e s l e s p l u s t a r d e s Ont f a i t en nouveaux c o r p s r e v i v r e l e s v i e u x B a r d e s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 2 6 r ) The theme o f r e t u r n o r " r e v o l u t i o n " o f t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s t o G a l l i c F r a n c e has b e e n shown t o c o n s t i t u t e t h e b a s i c framework o f L a G a l l i a d e i n a l l i t s r e v o l v i n g C i r c l e s . L a B o d e r i e ' s n a t i o n a l i s t i n t e r e s t i s a p p a r e n t t h r o u g h o u t . Y e t e v e n more f u n d a m e n t a l t o h i s p e r s o n a l v i s i o n i s a m y s t i c a l s e n t i m e n t o f r e n e w a l , a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e P o s t e l l i a n p r o p h e c i e s o f t h e new age t o be i n s t i t u t e d u n d e r t h e F r e n c h u n i v e r s a l monarch a t t h e i m m i n e n t s e c o n d c o m i n g o f C h r i s t i n men's s o u l s . I t i s i n t h i s c o n t e x t t h a t the work as a w h o l e t a k e s on i t s f u l l i m p o r t . Thus t h e r e c u r r i n g c o n d e m n a t i o n o f t h e " G r e g e o i s m e n t e u r s " w i t h t h e i r f a l s e gods c a n be r e c o n c i l e d w i t h L a B o d e r i e ' s p r a i s e o f O r p h e u s , who was commonly s u p p o s e d t o h a v e p r e s e n t e d t h e m a n y - f a c e t t e d U n i t y i n t h e g u i s e o f t h e Greek O l y m p i a , and a l s o w i t h L a B o d e r i e ' s acknowledgement o f R e n a i s s a n c e a r t i s t s ' p a r t i a l d e b t t o t h e i r Greek h e r i t a g e . F u r t h e r m o r e , t h e p o e t ' s emphasis on t h e r e l i g i o u s 137 b a s i s o f t h e D r u i d i c B a r d s ' u n w r i t t e n l e g a c y o f m u s i c a l v e r s e c a n be r e c o n c i l e d b o t h w i t h t h e c l a s s i c a l P y t h a g o r e a n and P l a t o n i c t h e o r i e s o f harmony i n t h e u n i v e r s e and a l s o w i t h t h e K a b b a l i s t i c and N e o - P l a t o n i c a c c e p t a n c e o f f i g u r a t i v e p o e t i c l a n g u a g e as the s u b s t a n c e o f d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n p r e s e n t e d as v e i l e d t r u t h . I n s h o r t , L a B o d e r i e ' s s e e m i n g l y c h a u v i n i s t i c h i s t o r i c a l o u t l i n e o f c y c l i c a l r e t u r n i s i n r e a l i t y a m y s t i c o - r e l i g i o u s hymn o f u n i v e r s a l r e n e w a l . A l t h o u g h i t i s r e m i n i s c e n t o f a F r e n c h m e d i e v a l m y s t i c o - n a t i o n a l i s t i c c r u s a d i n g s p i r i t , i t d e r i v e s e s s e n t i a l l y f r o m an e n t h u s i a s t i c i d e a l i s m c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e c o n s c i o u s n e s s o f r e s t i t u t i o n . R e s t i t u t i o n o f a r t s and s c i e n c e s i n t h e " g o l d e n a g e " o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e was f o r L a B o d e r i e a m a n i f e s t a t i o n o f man's s p i r i t u a l r e s t i t u t i o n t o h i s p r e l a p s a r i a n s p i r i t u a l c l a r i t y and p u r i t y o f t h e o r i g i n a l C h r i s t i a n g o l d e n a g e . " L e P h e n i x , " a l o n g poem appended t o L a G a l l i a d e , p r e s e n t s t h r o u g h t h e image o f t h e p h o e n i x L a B o d e r i e ' s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c y e a r n i n g f o r o r d e r i n a u n i v e r s a l harmony w h i c h i s t o be a t t a i n e d by a m y s t i c a l r e n e w a l . The p h o e n i x i s the s y m b o l o f t h a t r e n e w a l t h r o u g h t h e mors o s c u l i : L u y mesme, e t non luy-mesme en r o n d e u r p e r e n n e l l e Q u i p a r l e b i e n de m o r t a c q u i e r t v i e e t e r n e l l e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 3 1 r ) 8 7 I t i s a l s o t h e s y m b o l o f t h e supreme u n i q u e n e s s o f t h e D e i t y . By t h e a n a l o g y o f c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s , on t h e p l a n e o f t h e body p o l i t i c t h e F r e n c h k i n g s h o u l d be t h e supreme u n i v e r s a l monarch u n d e r whose p r o t e c t i o n t h e 138 one t r u e C h u r c h s h o u l d be r e s t o r e d . I n a w o r l d t h u s u n i t e d t h e peace o f a t r u l y u n i v e r s a l harmony w o u l d p r e v a i l . I t s h e r a l d was L a B o d e r i e , t h e new O r p h e u s , d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d by t h e u n i q u e t r u t h o f t h e one t r u e G o d . Thus L a B o d e r i e i n v o k e s t h e s p i r i t o f u n i q u e n e s s and t o t a l i t y w h i c h i s embodied i n t h e p h o e n i x as w e l l as i n t h e c i r c l e , h i s own " f i g u r e e l u e " : P r e n l e v o l mon P h e n i x , e t au r e g n e G a u l o i s Va s a l u e r mon Roy l e s e u l P h e n i x des R o i s , Comme s a G a u l e e t Gent s u r t o u t e s p l u s a n t i q u e Des Regnes e t des Gents e s t l e P h e n i x u n i q u e : E t v o l e s u r s o n c h e f d ' u n doux v o l a p l a n y P o u r un s i g n a l h e u r e u x , que du g r a n d Monde uny Un Roy de F r a n c e un j o u r g u i d a n t 1 ' u n i q u e B a r q u e De l ' E g l i s e e n P h e n i c e , en s e r a l e Monarque E t 1 ' u n i q u e P h e n i x , e t comme a ce m i l i e u R e d u i r a t o u t e s Gents sous l e P h e n i x de D i e u , Y h a u l s a n t p o u r l e Coq l e P h e n i x en T r o f e e . S o i t u n Roy s u r t o u s R o i s , t o u s j o u r s L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE. ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 3 1 r ) 139 C . HYMNES ECCLESIASTIQUES, CANTIQUES SPIRITUELS ET AUTRES MESLANGES POETIQUES B o t h t r a n s l a t i o n s and o r i g i n a l w o r k s by L a B o d e r i e c o n s t i t u t e t h e volume o f Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , c a n t i q u e s s p l r i t u e l s e t a u t r e s 88 m e s l a n g e s p o e t i q u e s (1578 and 1 5 8 2 ) . I n b o t h , L a B o d e r i e ' s p u r p o s e was t o c o u n t e r a c t t h e e f f e c t s o f t h e P r o t e s t a n t t r a n s l a t i o n s o f t h e P s a l m s and t o u s e m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s " c o m p a r a b l e t o t h o s e o f Orpheus i n o r d e r t o b r i n g b a c k t h e e r r i n g d i s s e n t e r s t o t h e C a t h o l i c c h u r c h : " p a r u n c o n t r e c h a n t , comme j a d i s O r f e e , m ' o p p o s e r au c h a n t p i p e u r des 89 S y r e n e s " ( " A d v e r t i s s e m e n t " ) . The d e d i c a t i o n o f t h e s e c o n d e d i t i o n t o H e n r y I I I i s even more e x p l i c i t : S i r e , t o u t a i n s i que ceux q u i s e s o n t p i q u e s des s c o r p i o n s o n t accoustumte de c h e r c h e r l e u r g u a r i s o n e t m e d e c i n e en i c e u x mesmes, a i n s i c o n s i d e r a n t l e s Pseaumes de D a v i d t r a d u i t s en n o s t r e v u l g a i r e , p a r l a d o u c e u r de l a m u s i q u e e t du c h a n t m e l o d i e u x que l ' o n y a a d j o u s t e ont a l l e c h e " e t d i s t r a i t non moins de v o s t r e p e u p l e que l e s a s s e m b l e e s e t p r e s c h e s des m i n i s t r e s de l a r e l i g i o n p r e t e n d u e r e f o r m e e , j e me s u i s a v i s e p o u r u n remede e t c o n t r e p o i s o n de t r a d u i r e l e s hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s e t a u t r e s c a n t i q u e s s p i r i t u e l s composes p a r l e s s a i n c t s d o c t e u r s e t a n c i e n s P e r e s , c o l o n n e s e t p i l l i e r s de n o s t r e r e l i g i o n u n i q u e e t v e r i t a b l e . . . . (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , n . p . ) 140 The t r a n s l a t i o n s i n c l u d e i m i t a t i o n s o f w o r k s as w i d e r a n g i n g i n t i m e as t h e y a r e i n s u b j e c t . The Psalms a r e j u x t a p o s e d t o w o r k s by t h e f o u r t h c e n t u r y C h r i s t i a n p o e t P r u d e n t i u s , by S t . G r e g o r y , by t h e V e n e r a b l e B e d e , by D a n t e , by P e t r a r c h and by t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y I t a l i a n h u m a n i s t and C h u r c h r e f o r m e r , V i d a . A n c i e n t Hebrew P s a l m s as w e l l as e a r l y C h r i s t i a n , m e d i e v a l and R e n a i s s a n c e r e l i g i o u s p o e t r y and t h e o l o g i c a l e x p o s i t i o n , a l l a r e adduced t o s e r v e L a B o d e r i e ' s p u r p o s e o f s p i r i t u a l r e f o r m b r o u g h t a b o u t by m u s i c a l and p o e t i c " e f f e c t s . " S e c r e t has p o i n t e d o u t t h a t d e d i c a t i o n s o f t h e t r a n s l a t i o n s 90 and o f t h e o r i g i n a l v e r s e s r e v e a l " t o u t u n c l i m a t de l ' e ' p o q u e . " Not o n l y do t h e y show L a B o d e r i e ' s a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h t h e Academy t h r o u g h s u c h f i g u r e s as R o n s a r d , P o n t u s de T y a r d , B a i f and D o r a t , b u t a l s o t h e y s u g g e s t r e l a t i o n s h i p s w i t h men o f l e t t e r s and p a t r o n s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e C o u n t e r R e f o r m a t i o n movement u n d e r Henry I I I : f o r e x a m p l e , t h e H e b r a i c i s t G i l b e r t G e n e b r a r d , t h e P a r i s i a n s A m e l o t , S t . G e r m a i n and D e s p r e z , and t h e A b b o t 91 o f S t . V i n c e n t o f L a o n , s i t e o f t h e m i r a c l e o f 1 5 6 6 . O r i g i n a l w o r k s by L a B o d e r i e c o m p r i s e t h e s e c o n d h a l f o f t h e v o l u m e t h e " P a r t i e de 1 ' I n v e n t i o n . " Those a d d r e s s e d t o T y a r d (Hymnes r r e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 170 -184 ) and t o R o n s a r d (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 1 8 4 r - 2 1 3 V ) r e p e a t L a B o d e r i e ' s e a r n e s t g l o r i f i c a t i o n o f t h e H o l y T r i n i t y as i n t h e E n c y c l i e and h i s a b o m i n a t i o n o f t h e p o e t r y he c o n s i d e r e d f r i v o l o u s w h i c h i n i m i t a t i n g " y v r e A n a c r e o n " was d e v o t e d t o "Venus l a v a i n e " (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 1 7 0 V ) . I n h i s o n l y r e f e r e n c e t o c o n t e m p o r a r y e v e n t s o t h e r t h a n r e l i g i o u s o r p o l i t i c a l , L a B o d e r i e ' s acknowledgment o f t h e g e o g r a p h i c a l d i s c o v e r i e s o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e i s 141 made t o s e r v e h i s f i n a l i s t c o n c e p t o f c y c l i c a l r e t u r n t o t h e d i v i n e U n i t y . S i m i l a r l y , he a s s i m i l a t e s a s t r o n o m i c a l d i s c o v e r i e s t o t h e m e d i e v a l C a t h o l i c c o n c e p t o f one w o r l d i n i n t e r p r e t i n g them as s i g n s f r o m G o d : S i que d e p u i s peu d ' a n s l e N a u t o n n i e r a c c o r t Nous a p e u p l e s nouveaux en nouveau monde o u v e r t : J u s q u ' a u x A m e r i c a i n s s a n s f o y , s a n s R o y , s a n s L o y E t d e c o u v e r t au C i e l 1 ' a u t r e C r o i x q u i se f o n d e En l ' A n t a r t i q u e G o n d , s u r q u i t o u r n e l e monde: Somme t o u s r e v o l t e z e t t o u t e Gent q u i e r r e P a r t o u t e s R e g i o n s du G l o b e de l a T e r r e , A t o y r e t o u r n e r a Roy s e u l E t h e r i e n , Te c o n f e s s a n t v r a y D i e u c e l e s t e e t t e r r i e n E t s e l o n t a p a r o l e en l a t e r r e c h e r i e N ' y a u r a q u ' u n P a s t e u r e t une b e r g e r i e Ce q u i vous e s t e n c o r ' au p u r C i e l d e s i g n ^ Q u ' o n a v e u t a n t de f o i s en n o s t r e age signe" De f e u x p r o d i g i e u x . . . . (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 203 -207 L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t o f p o e t i c i n s p i r a t i o n i s e n u n c i a t e d i n t h e 92 " C a n t i q u e de l a n a i s s a n c e de n o s t r e S e i g n e u r J e s u s - C h r i s t " a d d r e s s e d r r t o t h e B i s h o p o f Bayeux (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 230 -232 ) . L a B o d e r i e ' s c l a i m t o a C h r i s t i a n r a t h e r t h a n a c l a s s i c a l muse i s e m p h a s i z e d by h i s a d a p t a t i o n o f t h e A p o l l o n i a n f r e n z y t o an e c s t a s y o f C h r i s t i a n l o v e : J e ne v e u x p l u s i n v o q u e r l e s n e u f S o e u r s J e ne veux p l u s m ' a b r e u v e r des d o u c e u r s De l ' H y p o c r e n e e n t r e l e s G r e c s l o u 6 e , J e ne v e u x p l u s s u r H e l i c o n m o n t e r , A i n s r e c l a m e r l e s S y r e n e s des C i e u x , A i n s m ' e n y v r e r du c h a n t d e l i c i e u x De l a v i v e eau . . . . 142 A i n s mieux s o n g e r des montz s u r l e h a u l t m o n t , C h r i s t homme-Dieu a d o u b l e c h e f p r o f o n d P o u r y p u i s e r l a h a u t e f u r e u r s a i n c t e . _ (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 230 ) A t t e m p t i n g t o e s t a b l i s h t h e b a s i s o f a new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m , L a B o d e r i e s t i l l r e c a l l s t h e l e a r n e d " r h e t o r i q u e u r " u s i n g a m e d i e v a l f i x e d f o r m , t h e " c h a n t r o y a l " i n w h i c h he had e x c e l l e d a t t h e p o e t i c 93 " p u y " . H o w e v e r , " c h a n t s r o y a u x " g l o r i f y i n g t h e V i r g i n i n c o r p o r a t e i m a g e r y drawn f r o m t h e K a b b a l a h . The f i r s t o f t h e s e , f o r e x a m p l e , i s e n t i t l e d " S u r l a t r e s s a i n t e e t p u r e C o n c e p t i o n de l a V i e r g e M a r i e mere de D i e u " (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 2 3 7 V - 2 3 8 V ) . I n t h i s poem t h e image o f t h e b u t t e r f l y w e a v i n g i t s r o u n d c o c o o n i s a d a p t e d f r o m t h e K a b b a l i s t Z o h a r . I t i s a s s i m i l a t e d t o t h e K a b b a l i s t i c v i s i o n o f t h e u n i v e r s e as t h e g r e a t s p h e r e o f t e n S e p h i r o t h a t t h e h e a r t o f w h i c h L a B o d e r i e p l a c e s t h e u n i q u e V i r g i n mother o f C h r i s t . K a b b a l a h and C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e a r e t h u s i n t i m a t e l y f u s e d i n an a f f i r m a t i o n o f f a i t h w h i c h c o n c l u d e s w i t h L a B o d e r i e ' s p r o f o u n d b e l i e f i n t h e u n i f y i n g power o f a C h r i s t i a n p o e t i c : . P r i n c e du P u y , s u r l a t e r r e e t l e s mers J u s q u ' o u Phebus a s e s b o r n e s e t meres F a i t e s que S e i n e entonne s u r s o n onde M i e u x que C y p r i s mere aux amours amers Le P a p i l l o n q u i f a i t s a T e n t e r o n d e . . . (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 238 ) r r The s u c c e e d i n g " c h a n t s r o y a u x " (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 239 -250 ) i n t e g r a t e o t h e r images f r o m t h e Zohar to t h e same end o f p r a i s e o f t h e V i r g i n : t h e b i r d f r o m t h e e a r t h l y p a r a d i s e a t t h e P o l e , t h e u n i q u e 94 J e w i s h p e a r l , t h e t r a n s p a r e n t s p h e r e . " C h a n t s r o y a u x " b a s e d on 143 arguments f r o m P i n d a r , f r o m P y t h a g o r a s and t h e A r g o n a u t i c a (Hymnes r v e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 247 -249 ) c o m p l e t e t h e s e r i e s . L a B o d e r i e ' s " C a n t i q u e s u r l a n o u v e l l e E s t o i l l e " (Hymnes v r 95 e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 250 - 2 5 8 ) i s f o l l o w e d by f u r t h e r t r a n s l a t i o n s o f O r p h i c Hymns (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 2 5 8 V f f . ) . L a B o d e r i e ' s own f i n a l " C a n t i q u e a. D i e u " (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 2 8 5 V - 2 8 6 V ) a f f i r m s y e t a g a i n t h e m o r a l and s p i r i t u a l a s p i r a t i o n s t o u n i t y and r e v e l a t i o n w h i c h m o t i v a t e d h i s p u b l i c a t i o n o f r e l i g i o u s hymns: A s p i r e moy de g r a c e , a f i n q u ' e n m a i n t C a n t i q u e J e c e l e b r e l ' h o n n e u r de t o n s a i n c t nom a n t i q u e , E t l e s Hymnes d i v i n s q u ' e n l ' E g l i s e des S a i n t s L e s t i e n s f o n t r e s o n n e r sous l a m b r i s s e m e n s p e i n t s P a r q u i de P e r e en F i l z t o u s l e s p e u p l e s e s t r a n g e s R a c o n t e n t en t o u s l i e u x t e s d i v i n e s l o u e n g e s . v (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 286 ) L a B o d e r i e ' s m o t t o , "May t h e H o l y D a v i d s p r o u t f o r t h as one O r p h i c a l l y " summarizes e s p e c i a l l y a p t l y L a B o d e r i e ' s m o t i v a t i o n i n p u b l i s h i n g t h i s c o l l e c t i o n o f P s a l m s and hymn s . T h i s s y n c r e t i s t i c w o r k , w h i c h r e c a l l s t h e e a r l y R e n a i s s a n c e i n i t s d e r i v a t i o n n o t o n l y f r o m t h e P s a l m s and f r o m the C h u r c h f a t h e r s b u t a l s o f r o m t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , was g i v e n a s e c o n d e d i t i o n a t a t i m e o f extreme i n t e n s i f i c a t i o n o f r e l i g i o u s a n t a g o n i s m s . T h a t t h i s s h o u l d be so p o i n t s t o a c o n t i n u i n g a c a d e m i c s p i r i t a t t h e c o u r t o f 96 H e n r y I I I and among t h e C a t h o l i c " p o l i t i q u e s . " The w i d e r a n g i n g s y n c r e t i s t i c c h a r a c t e r o f t h e w o r k a r g u e s f o r L a B o d e r i e ' s own s i n c e r i t y o f b e l i e f i n t h e harmony t o be r e n d e r e d e v e n o u t o f d i s c o r d . 144 D . DIVERSES MESLANGES POETIQUES The D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s p o e t i q u e s (1582) r e c a l l many t h e m a t i c p r e o c c u p a t i o n s e v i d e n t i n L a B o d e r i e ' s m a j o r w o r k s . S e v e r a l b e a r w i t n e s s i n t h e i r d e d i c a t i o n s t o h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p s w i t h t h e l i t t e r a t i o f h i s a g e . T h i s c o l l e c t i o n , t h e l a s t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c p u b l i c a t i o n s , i n c l u d e s m i n o r v e r s e d a t i n g f r o m as e a r l y as 1 5 7 1 . 97 R e f e r e n c e s t o h i s p e r s o n a l l i f e a r e f e w . S e v e r a l poems i n d i c a t e L a B o d e r i e ' s m o r a l p u r p o s e as t h e s e l f - a p p o i n t e d "new 98 O r p h e u s " i n an age o f c h a o s . The s o n n e t , "Ce n ' e s t pas moy" ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 1 0 7 V f f . ) i n d i c a t e s t h e i m p o r t a n c e w h i c h t h e a u t h o r , l i k e t h e p o e t s o f t h e P l e i a d e , a t t r i b u t e d t o h i s p r a i s e o f h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s . F o l l o w i n g t h e D r u i d s who i n t h e i r r e l i g i o u s hymns sang p r a i s e s o f t h e i r m i l i t a r y h e r o e s ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 7 7 V ) , L a B o d e r i e c h o s e t o g l o r i f y t h e g r e a t men o f C h r i s t i a n humanism: M a i s b i e n c ' e s t moy q u i d e s i r e en t o u t l i e u En t o u t e l a n g u e , en t o u t temps, e t t o u t age Au v e r t u e u x donner b o n t e s m o i g n a g e , E t c e l e b r e r l e s l o u e n g e s de D i e u . D i e u s o i t p r i n c i p e e t s o i t f i n , e t m i l i e u De mes c h a n s o n s : s a P r o v i d e n c e sage S o i t 1 ' a r g u m e n t de mon a p p r e n t i s s a g e E t de mes Ronds s o i t l e C e n t r e , e t l ' e s s i e u : Des g e n t s de b i e n l e s n o b l e s noms a n t i q u e s 145 S o y e n t l ' o r n e m e n t de mes humbles C a n t i q u e s Mesmes des S a i n c t s e t m a r t y r s b i e n h e u r e u x Q u i p a r l e u r m o r t o n t c o u r o n n e l e u r v i e Non p l u s s u b j e c t s i c y bas a l ' e n v i e Q u i s u i t v e r t u comme u n f a n t o s m e ombreux. v ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 110 ) Thus t h e r e a r e i n c l u d e d i n t h i s c o l l e c t i o n an ode t o T h e v e t , r o y a l cosmographer ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 5 0 V f f . ) , a t r a n s l a t i o n o f a L a t i n work a g a i n s t C o p e r n i c u s by t h e m a t h e m a t i c i a n and " l e c t e u r r o y a l , " C o r n e l i u s Gemma ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 7 1 V f f . ) , a s o n n e t i n p r a i s e o f P i c o , " a d m i r a b l e P h e n i x " ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 81 ) , and a p r o l o q u e t o E t i e n n e J o d e l l e ' s C l e o p a t r e ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 92 -100 ) w h i c h b e a r s f u r t h e r w i t n e s s to L a B o d e r i e ' s c l o s e 99 a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h t h e B a i f Academy. Themes w h i c h L a B o d e r i e e l a b o r a t e d i n h i s m a j o r w o r k s a r e r e c a l l e d b r i e f l y i n t h e v e r s e s o f t h i s c o l l e c t i o n : t h e p r i m a c y o f t h e D r u i d s , ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 48 ) , a cosmology b a s e d on t h e t h r e e w o r l d s o f t h e a r c h e t y p e , t h e heavens and t h e e l e m e n t s w i t h man as t h e m i c r o c o s m ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 51 ) , t h e c o n c e p t o f a g o l d e n age o f man's r e b i r t h ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 5 2 V ) , t h e chaos o f t h e t i m e s e n g e n d e r e d by d i s r u p t i o n o f t h e g r e a t c h a i n o f b e i n g ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 79 ) , and t h e O r p h i c theme o f d i v i n i s e d n a t u r e ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 1 0 7 r f f . ) . One s e r i e s o f s o n n e t s ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 8 1 V f f . ) s t a n d s o u t as a c r y s t a l l i z a t i o n o f L a B o d e r i e ' s a t t e m p t s t o p r o v e ' t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h i n t h e c o n t e x t o f h i s b e l i e f i n man's c y c l i c a l r e t u r n f r o m m u l t i p l i c i t y t o t h e d i v i n e U n i t y . H i s s y n c r e t i s t i c a s s i m i l a t i o n o f 146 K a b b a l i s t i c w i t h P y t h a g o r e a n and P l a t o n i c n u m e r i c a l t h e o r i e s s u p p o r t s t h e F i c i n i a n v i e w o f t h e u n i v e r s e as h a r m o n i o u s s t r u c t u r e t o be i n t e r - p r e t e d t h r o u g h " m a t h e m a t i c a l i m a g e s : " E t l e t r a v a i l o y s e u x ou s o u v e n t t u me v o i s M ' a r e n d u s o l i t a i r e a l a v i l l e e t aux b o i s P o u r t o u j o u r s r e m i r e r l e p r i n c i p e du nombre. ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , Sonnet 2 , f o l . 82 ) The e s t h e t i c p e r f e c t i o n o f t h e w o r l d c o n f i r m s a l w a y s f o r L a B o d e r i e t h e p r e s e n c e o f t h e D i v i n i t y c o n c e i v e d i n t h e p e r f e c t f o r m o f t h e c i r c l e , and t h e c y c l i c a l r e t u r n i m p l i c i t i n t h e movement o f t h e p e r f e c t f o r m : Tout ce q u i e s t cy b a s , au C i e l , e t s u r l e monde S u i t l e Rond a c c o m p l y , du g r a n d D i e u commencant L e C e n t r e de B o n t £ , e t en D i e u f i n i s s a n t , D u q u e l l ' I n f i n i t e e s t une S f e r e r o n d e . ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , Sonnet 3 , f o l . 82 ) The f i r s t o f t h e s o n n e t s o f t h i s s e r i e s , " L e Grand Q u a t e r n a i e , " p r e s e n t s t h e most c o n c i s e e v i d e n c e o f L a B o d e r i e ' s s y n c r e t i s m upon w h i c h was f o u n d e d h i s f a i t h i n a g e n u i n e " r e n a i s s a n c e " o f man. L a B o d e r i e r e j e c t s t h e c o n v e n t i o n a l t e r m , " Q u a t e r n a i r e , " i n f a v o u r o f a n e o l o g i s m , " Q u a t e r n a i e , " p r o p o s e d by t h e C h r i s t i a n K a b b a l i s t R e u c h l i n , to i n d i c a t e t h e n e c e s s a r y r e s t i t u t i o n o f a l l t h i n g s . " ' " ^ On t h e b a s i s o f t h e P y t h a g o r e a n t e t r a k t y s c o m p r e h e n s i v e o f a l l c r e a t i o n , L a B o d e r i e u s e s t h e number " 4 , " w h i c h was c e n t r a l a l s o t o K a b b a l i s t i c and P o s t e l l i a n s p e c u l a t i o n s , i n o r d e r t o a s s i m i l a t e t h e c o n s t i t u t i v e e l e m e n t s o f 102 r e l i g i o u s l i f e , human n a t u r e , and o f t h e u n i v e r s e . L ' O c c i d e n t , l ' A q u i l o n , l ' O r i e n t , l e M y ' J o u r , T h o b i a s , J o b , J u d i t h , E s t h e r de l i s . f l o r i e , L ' H i s t o i r e , l e M o r a l , F i g u r e , A l l e g o r i e C e r n e n t c o r p s , Ame, E s p r i t , e t l a Pensee a u t o u r . L e B o e u f , l'Homme, e t L i o n , e t l ' A i g l e d ' u n r e t o u r L u c , M a t h i e u , M a r c e t J e a n c e r c l e dans c e r c l e l i e , 147 M a r t y r s , D o c t e u r s , H e r a u t s , e t l e s V l e r g e s a l l l e C h r i s t m e u r t , n a i s t , r e s u s c i t e , e t monte en s o n s e j o u r . L e S a u l e , l e C i t r o n e t l a Palme e t l e M y r t e , L a N a t u r e , l a L o y , G r a c e e t R a i s o n d ' e l i t e P h i s c h o n , G i l o n , K i d k e l e t P e r a t h a r o u s a n t N o s t r e t e r r e , n o s t r e e a u , n o s t r e a i r , e t f e u sans c e n d r e , D ' e s t r e , de v i v r e a u s s i , de s e n t i r e t d ' e n t e n d r e V o n t n o s t r e P a v i l i o n a q u a t r e c o i n s p o s a n t . ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 81 ) A n c i e n t s c i e n c e i s a s s i m i l a t e d t o J e w i s h r e v e l a t i o n as a p r e f i g u r a t i o n o f C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e , t h e w h o l e e n r i c h i n g t h e c o n c e p t o f man t h e m i c r o c o s m o f t h e g r e a t " P a v i l i o n " o r t e m p l e w h i c h r e p r e s e n t s t h e h a r m o n i o u s l y c o n s t r u c t e d u n i v e r s e . Two s e r i e s o f s o n n e t s ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 8 4 V f f . and f o l . 87 f f . ) r e l a t i n g t h e p o e t ' s " s o n g e ou v i s i o n " d i f f e r i n t o n e and i n manner f r o m t h e r e s t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c o u t p u t . The more p e r s o n a l t o n e , t h e more p a r t i c u l a r m y s t i c a l i m a g e r y may p e r h a p s be u n d e r s t o o d i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h e i n c r e a s i n g l y c o n t e m p l a t i v e and m y s t i c a l c h a r a c t e r w h i c h t h e P a l a c e Academy assumed i n t h e e a r l y 1 5 8 0 ' s u n d e r t h e i n f l u e n c e 103 o f Henry I I I . The d i d a c t i c p u r p o s e i s s t i l l p r e - e m i n e n t f o r L a B o d e r i e , h o w e v e r , as i t was i n h i s f o r m e r u s e o f p u b l i c s y m b o l s . P r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e " b e l l e Nef d o r § e " i s o n l y p r e l i m i n a r y t o t h e g e n e r a l i z e d i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e m a r r i a g e o f C h r i s t and h i s C h u r c h , "1'homme A r c h e t y p e " and " u n e P a s t o u r e l l e en douce c o n t e n a n c e . " S i m i l a r l y , i n t h e s e c o n d s e t o f two s o n n e t s , t h e " C h e v a l e t P o u l l a i n " marked by a new s t a r i n d i c a t e t h e e l e v a t i o n o f P a r i s as t h e new i 104 J e r u s a l e m . The volume o f D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s j o S t i q u e s t h u s c o n t a i n s t h e l a s t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c w o r k s . I t shows h i m t o h a v e p a r t i c i p a t e d i n t h e 148 i n c r e a s i n g l y s p i r i t u a l o r i e n t a t i o n o f p o e t s i n t h e l a s t q u a r t e r o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e i n w h i c h Raymond has s i t u a t e d the b e g i n n i n g o f " l e r e g n e de l a pocesie r e l i g i e u s e . L a B o d e r i e ' s t i e s were i n the p a s t , h o w e v e r . H u m a n i s t and e n c y c l o p e d i s t i n t h e s y n c r e t i s t c u r r e n t o f t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s , L a B o d e r i e ' s v i s i o n i s n o t t h e p e r s o n a l one o f Sponde o r L a Ceppede, 10 6 n o r o f t h e m y s t i c a l p o e t s o f t h e e a r l y s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r y . We hope t o have s u g g e s t e d i n the above p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e t h e m a t i c c o n t e n t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s o r i g i n a l w o r k s t h e i r i n t e r e s t f o r t h e s t u d e n t o f t h e l a t e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e . I n t h e f i r s t p l a c e , a l l h i s w o r k , and e s p e c i a l l y t h e E n c y c l i e , d e m o n s t r a t e s a c o n t i n u i n g a l l e g i a n c e among c e r t a i n F r e n c h men o f l e t t e r s t o t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s y n c r e t i s t t r a d i t i o n . L a B o d e r i e ' s f e r v e n t c o n c e r n f o r t h e s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l o f h i s c o u n t r y m e n assumed a t y p i c a l l y c y c l i c a l movement o f r e t u r n t o a n t i q u i t y f o r r e a s s u r a n c e o f a f u n d a m e n t a l harmony o f t h o u g h t and o f r e l i g i o u s r e v e l a t i o n . H i s m o t i v a t i o n o f s e e k i n g f o r u n i t y i n a t i m e o f c i v i l and r e l i g i o u s s t r i f e e x p l a i n s t h e a n a c h r o n i s m s o f many o f h i s arguments and s u g g e s t s as w e l l t h e v a l u e o f h i s w o r k as one example o f t h e p o p u l a r i t y i n h i s day o f v a r i o u s forms o f e s o t e r i c wisdom w h i c h c o u l d be adduced t o s u g g e s t a u n i v e r s a l harmony. I n t h e s e c o n d p l a c e , t h e m y s t i c o - n a t i o n a l i s t s p i r i t w h i c h i n f o r m s t h e G a l l i a d e i s i n d i c a t i v e n o t o n l y o f a h u m a n i s t ' s p r i d e i n 149 t h e a c h i e v e m e n t s o f t h e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e , b u t a l s o o f c u r r e n t s o f p r o p h e t i c and m i l l e n a r i a n t h o u g h t w h i c h f o u n d f a v o u r d u r i n g t h e r e i g n o f Henry I I I . I n t h e t h i r d p l a c e , L a B o d e r i e ' s r e p e a t e d r e f e r e n c e s t o t h e new s o c i a l r o l e he e n v i s i o n e d f o r t h e p o e t , and f o r h i m s e l f as t h e "new O r p h e u s , " as d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d and e t h i c a l l y i n f l u e n t i a l s i n g e r n o t o n l y c l a r i f y t h e c o n t e n t o f h i s own w o r k , b u t a l s o f o r m h i s most i m p o r t a n t c o n t r i b u t i o n t o t h e l a t e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e p o e t i c . I n t h i s c o n t e x t h i s c o n t i n u i n g e f f o r t s t o s e e k o u t and t o s e t f o r t h t h e s y m b o l i c m a n i f e s t a t i o n s o f the one t r u t h w h i c h i n f o r m s a l l r e l i g i o u s r e v e l a t i o n s become m e a n i n g f u l , as do h i s r e p e a t e d e x h o r t a t i o n s t o c o n t e m p o r a r y p o e t s t o c a s t a s i d e v a i n amatory v e r s e i n f a v o u r o f a s p i r i t u a l i n s p i r a t i o n by w h i c h , i f t h e y a r e l e a r n e d and v i r t u o u s , t h e y w i l l be i l l u m i n a t e d . Thus t o o , L a B o d e r i e ' s i n s i s t a n c e on t h e n e c e s s a r y a l l i a n c e o f m u s i c and p o e t r y , expounded i n t h e G a l l i a d e and i l l u s t r a t e d i n the i m i t a t i o n s o f Psalms and hymns i n t h e Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s i s s e e n t o be c e n t r a l t o h i s p u r p o s e o f s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l t h r o u g h an " O r p h i c " c h a r m . 150 CHAPTER I I I : FOOTNOTES ^ S c h m i d t , PotSsie s c i e n t i f i q u e , p . 3 . 2 I b i d . , p . 204. 3 E . M . W. T i l l y a r d , The E l i z a b e t h a n W o r l d P i c t u r e (New Y o r k : Random House [ c l 9 4 3 ] ) , p . 1 0 6 . 4 See A . 0 . L o v e j o y , The G r e a t C h a i n o f B e i n g : A S t u d y i n t h e H i s t o r y o f an I d e a (New Y o r k : H a r p e r and Row [ c l 9 3 6 ] ) . F o r a s u c c i n c t a c c o u n t o f t h e i n f l u e n c e o f F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s m on t h e s c i e n t i f i c as w e l l as t h e a r t i s t i c t h o u g h t o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y , s e e C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 7 4 - 7 5 . ^ F o r a f u l l a n a l y s i s o f t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e i d e a o f t h e h a r m o n i c b a s e s o f c r e a t i o n f r o m c l a s s i c a l t o C h r i s t i a n a u t h o r s , see Leo S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony: A P r o l e g o m e n a t o an I n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e Word " S t i m m u n g , " e d . Anna G r a n v i l l e H a t c h e r ( B a l t i m o r e : Johns H o p k i n s P r e s s , 1 9 6 3 ) , p p . 5 - 6 3 . 7 F o r t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e c i r c l e i n F i c i n i a n a e s t h e t i c s and m e t a p h y s i c s d e r i v e d f r o m P l a t o , see C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p . 5 8 . g F o r an a n a l y s i s o f t h i s theme i n F i c i n o , see C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 5 7 - 6 3 . 9 F o r t h e c o n c e p t o f t h e C r e a t o r as A r c h i m u s i c u s , see S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 7, 1 0 . See Raymond, I n f l u e n c e de R o n s a r d , p p . 27 7 - 2 7 8 . F o r t h e image o f e x p a n d i n g c i r c l e s see t h e q u o t a t i o n f r o m t h e E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 0 3 - 1 0 5 , b e l o w p . 8 6 . 12 C f . t h e a n a l y s e s o f t h i s work by B u s s o n , R a t i o n a l i s m e , p p . 584-588 and b y S c h m i d t , P o g s i e s c i e n t i f i q u e , p p . 1 8 2 - 2 1 4 , and "Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e , c h r c S t i e n , p o e t e e t k a b b a l i s t e , " C a h i e r s du Sud ( 1 9 5 0 ) , 151 p p . 1 6 9 - 1 8 2 . S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 2 7 - 2 8 , n o t e s t h a t n e i t h e r o f t h e s e c r i t i c s has g r a s p e d t h e r e a l i m p o r t o f t h e K a b b a l i s t i c themes i n t h e E n c y c l i e b e c a u s e o f t h e i r l a c k o f k n o w l e d g e o f P o s t e l . 13 W i t h r e f e r e n c e t o a c c e p t a n c e o f L a B o d e r i e ' s work as o r t h o d o x , i n s p i t e o f t h e h e r e s y o f t h e Son as n o t b e i n g c o - e t e r n a l w i t h t h e F a t h e r , F r a n c o i s S e c r e t ( " L e s J f i s u i t e s e t 1 e k a b b a l i s m e c h r C t i e n , " B i b l i o t h e q u e d'humanisme e t r e n a i s s a n c e , X X [ 1 9 5 8 ] , p p . 546 f f . ) , n o t e s L a B o d e r i e ' s good r e l a t i o n s h i p s w i t h t h e J e s u i t s a t t h e t i m e o f h i s work on t h e P o l y g l o t B i b l e i n A n t w e r p . 14 R e p r o d u c e d i n S e c r e t , K a b b a l i s t e s Chretiens, p l a t e X . One n o t e s t h e two anagrams o f L a B o d e r i e ' s name: FEU VERGILE = G u i Le F e v r e ; L ' U N [QUI] GUIDE ORFEE = G u i d o n Le F e v r e . 15 16 B u s s o n , R a t i o n a l i s m e , p p . 5 1 6 - 5 1 7 . F o r t h e c i r c l e as a c o n s t a n t image i n h i s w o r k , see b e l o w p p . 198 f f . I n h i s p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t " A s o n l i v r e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 9) he v a u n t s t h e o r i g i n a l i t y o f h i s f o r m as a d i v i n e i n s p i r a t i o n : . . . a n u l des d e v a n c i e r s t a forme t u ne d o i s N i m o d e r n e s , n i v i e u s , l a i d ou b e a u que t u s o i s : M a i s l ' h o n n e u r en e s t deu au s e u l D i e u que j e l o u e . One n o t e s , h o w e v e r , t h a t he was a t r a n s l a t o r o f D a n t e , whose use o f c i r c l e s must have s t i m u l a t e d h i s i m a g i n a t i o n . L a B o d e r i e ' s s t a t e d i n t e n t i o n ( E n c y c l i e , p . 7) o f c o m p l e t i n g h i s e x p o s i t i o n by " e n c i r c l i n g " C a t h o l i c d o c t r i n e i n p r o g r e s s i o n f r o m t h e h i g h e s t t o t h e l o w e s t " c a u s e " was n e v e r c a r r i e d o u t . ^ C f . f o r example h i s " C a n t i q u e . . . aus P o e t e s de ce Temps" ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 8 9 ) : Je vous p r i de p e n s e r que l a d o u c e u r du s o n Ne se d o i t pas nommer l ' A m e de l a c h a n s o n . 18 F o r t h e F i c i n i a n cosmology b a s e d on a e s t h e t i c a n a l y s e s , s e e C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 5 7 - 6 3 , and K r i s t e l l e r , P h i l o s o p h y , p p . 6 0 - 7 3 . 19 " C o n s e i l " o r d i v i n e I n t e l l i g e n c e i s r e l a t e d i n P o s t e l l i a n e x e g e s i s t o t h e f i g u r e o f C h r i s t t h e M e d i a t o r . S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 3 3 , c i t e s P o s t e l : " . . . 1 ' i n t e l l i g e n c e de l a n a t u r e e n t i e r e , q u i e s t l ' A n g e du g r a n d c o n s e i l en v e r i t e comme dans l a t r a d i t i o n de l ' E g l i s e , q u i a l ' h a b i t u d e de c h a n t e r a l a messe de N o e l s e l o n l a t r a d u c t i o n des S e p t a n t e : ' U n e n f a n t nous e s t n e , e t un f i l s nous a e t e d o n n e : i l s ' a p p e l l e r a l ' A n g e du g r a n d c o n s e i l ( I s . I X , 6 ) . ' " 152 20 A c c o r d i n g t o t h e p s e u d o - B e r o s u s , t h e G a l l i c H e r c u l e s was Gomer, t h e f o u n d e r o f F r a n c e a f t e r t h e F l o o d . L a B o d e r i e r e l a t e s t h e l i n e o f F r e n c h k i n g s t o h i m . C f . h i s " D i s c o u r s " t o t h e Due d ' A l e n c o n , E n c y c l i e , p . 2 2 1 : C a r J a p h e t f u t A t l a s , e t l ' H e r c u l e G a u l o i s F u t l e G a u l o i s Gomer q u i nous donna s e s L o y s . Comme done vous p o r t e z l ' i l l u s t r e nom d ' H e r c u l e . . . . 21 F o r t h e s i g n i f i c a n c e o f U r a n i e t o L a B o d e r i e as d i s c i p l e o f P o s t e l , see S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 2 9 - 3 4 . A c c o r d i n g t o P o s t e l ' s d i s t o r t e d e t y m o l o g y , t h e " e m i t h o l o g i e " by w h i c h he c l a i m e d t o d i s c o v e r t h e t r u e s e n s e o f a name, " U r a n i e " i s d e r i v e d f r o m " O r " meaning l i g h t and " A r o n " s i g n i f y i n g t h e a r c . C f . F r a n c o i s S e c r e t , " L ' E m i t h o l o g i e de G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l , " Umanesimo e e s o t e r i s m o , A t t i d e l V . Convegno I n t e r n a z i o n a l e d i S t u d i U m a n i s t i c i ( P a d o v a : Cedam, 1 9 6 0 ) , p p . 3 8 1 - 4 2 7 . U r a n i e i s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e P l a t o n i c c o n c e p t o f t h e W o r l d S o u l as i t i s made t o r e l a t e t o t h e f i r s t - c r e a t e d I n t e l l i g e n c e , " S a g e s s e " o r " S a p i e n c e " i n C h r i s t t h e M e d i a t o r , t h e Word o f G o d . T h i s a s s o c i a t i o n i s r e i n f o r c e d i n t h e G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 6 : A i n s i 1 ' a v o i t a p p r i s Noach l e p a t r i a r c h e Q u i a v o i t a v e q ' l u y l e P a v i l i o n e t l ' A r c h e De l a D i v i n i t g , G e n i e u n i v e r s e l , E t des f a c e s l e P r i n c e , Ange du g r a n d C o n s e i l . S e c r e t c o n c l u d e s t h a t U r a n i e i s t h u s f o r L a B o d e r i e more s i g n i f i c a n t t h a n t h e " d i v i n i t e t u t e T a i r e des c h a n t r e s du C h r i s t " s u g g e s t e d by Raymond, I n f l u e n c e de R o n s a r d , p . 268. 22 e H e n r i Weber, L a C r e a t i o n p o e t i q u e au X V I s i e c l e en F r a n c e , de M a u r i c e Sceve a A g r i p p a d ' A u b i g n e ( P a r i s : N i z e t , 1 9 5 5 ) , p . 112, p o i n t s o u t t h e i m p o r t a n c e t o t h e P y t h a g o r e a n s o f s e c r e t and s o l i t a r y p l a c e s f a v o r a b l e t o the i n s p i r a t i o n o f t h e i n i t i a t e who w o u l d e n t e r i n t o a magic c o n t a c t w i t h t h e s e c r e t f o r c e s o f t h e u n i v e r s e . The c u l t o f t h e Muses i n c l a s s i c a l m y t h o l o g y was a l s o a s s o c i a t e d w i t h c a v e s and s o l i t a r y f o u n t a i n s . 23 S c h m i d t , P o g s i e s c i e n t i f i q u e , p . 1 8 7 , e m p h a s i z e s t h e o r i g i n a l i t y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p s y c h o l o g y . Whereas i n S c e v e ' s e m p i r i c a l v i e w man had b e e n p o r t r a y e d as u s i n g h i s s t r e n g t h and i n g e n u i t y i n l i n e a r p r o g r e s s t o w a r d d i v i n i s a t i o n , i n L a B o d e r i e ' s work he p o s s e s s e s f r o m b i r t h the g i f t o f d i v i n e i d e a s , and t h u s must r e t u r n i n a c i r c u l a r p r o g r e s s i o n t o h i s o r i g i n a l d i v i n i t y . See a l s o L a B o d e r i e ' s a n a l o g y o f t h e d i v i n e l y - w r i t t e n t a b l e s o f t h e l a w w i t h t h e d i v i n e l y - g r a n t e d i n n a t e i d e a s , E n c y c l i e , p . 140: . . . ces p e t i t s f e u s , ou n o t i o n s p r e m i e r e s , Ces p r ^ c e p t e s e n n e z , ces p e t i t e s l u m i e r e s , Que N a t u r e l e d o i g t d u T o u t - b o n , e t T o u t - b e a u , Vous e s c r i p t dedans l ' A m e a i n s i q u ' e n u n T a b l e a u . 153 L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t i s r e l a t e d t o t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s ' i n t e r i o r i s a t i o n and m o d i f i c a t i o n o f t h e myths o f Prometheus and H e r c u l e s . See C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 1 7 3 - 1 7 5 . 24 F o r t h e a s s o c i a t i o n o f wisdom and v i r t u e i n R e n a i s s a n c e t h o u g h t and s p e c i f i c a l l y i n R o n s a r d ' s p r e c e p t s f o r t h e p o e t , see H . F r a n c h e t , L e P o e t e e t s o n o e u v r e d ' a p r e s R o n s a r d ( P a r i s : S l a t k i n e R e p r i n t s , 1969, c l 9 2 3 ) , p p . 4 3 - 1 1 3 , 1 4 7 - 1 7 5 . 25 C f . K r i s t e l l e r , P h i l o s o p h y , p p . 1 4 6 - 1 7 0 , and C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 8 1 - 8 5 , f o r F i c i n o ' s c o n c e p t o f t h e primum i n a l i q u o genere a c c o r d i n g t o w h i c h e a c h o f t h e d e g r e e s o f b e i n g i s d o m i n a t e d b y a primum w h i c h g u a r d s i t . 26 F o r t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p o f t h i s c o n c e p t t o t h a t o f t h e "garment o f s t y l e " and t o t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t a c c e p t a n c e o f t h e image as embodiment as w e l l as t h e r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f an i d e a , see b e l o w p . 2 2 5 , n 27 S c h m i d t , P o e s i e s c i e n t i f i q u e , p p . 1 8 7 - 1 8 8 , compares t h i s new m e t a m o r p h o s i s o f N a t u r e as d i v i n e t o t h e p o e t ' s d i v i n i s a t i o n o f man t h r o u g h t h e n o t i o n o f i n n a t e i d e a s e l a b o r a t e d i n t h e T h i r d and F o u r t h C i r c l e s . He i n d i c a t e s t h e r e s e m b l a n c e o f t h i s c o n c e p t o f N a t u r e t o t h e O r p h i c c o s m i c E r o s . F o r L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e O r p h i c "Hymn t o N a t u r e " see b e l o w p . 9 9 . 28 F o r R a b e l a i s ' s i m i l a r o r i e n t a t i o n t o t h e c o n c e p t o f an immanent / t r a n s c e n d e n t God as f o u n d i n N e o - P l a t o n i s t and e s p e c i a l l y K a b b a l i s t w r i t i n g s , see M a s t e r s , R a b e l a i s i a n D i a l e c t i c and t h e P l a t o n i c - H e r m e t i c T r a d i t i o n , p . 6 . 29 C f . S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 3 2 - 3 3 . F o r t h e F i c i n i a n c o s m o l o g y , "une i n t e r p r e t a t i o n r a d i c a l e m e n t ' s y m b o l i q u e ' des f a i t s p h y s i q u e s , " i n w h i c h t h e a e s t h e t i c s o f l i g h t d o m i n a t e s , see C h a s t e l , M a r c e l F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 8 1 - 8 5 . 30 The P l a t o n i c anima mundi m o t i v a t i n g t h e " S e r e i n e s " r e s p o n s i b l e f o r t h e c e l e s t i a l s p h e r e s p o r t r a y s t h e d i v i n e power immanent i n c r e a t i o n . U r a n i e t h u s s u g g e s t s t h a t t h e " S e c r e t a i r e , " l i k e t h e p o e t , must a d j u s t h i s v i s i o n t o s u r p a s s t h e l i g h t o f d i s c u r s i v e r e a s o n i n o r d e r t o be e q u a l t o t h e b l i n d i n g l i g h t o f m y s t i c a l e c s t a s y . C f . F i c i n o ' s m e t a p h y s i c s o f l i g h t e x p l a i n e d i n C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 8 1 - 8 5 . 154 32 L a B o d e r i e , i n h i s c h o i c e o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e as t h e s y m b o l w h i c h embodies d i v i n e c r e a t i o n , may h a v e b e e n i n f l u e n c e d by t h e F i c i n i a n a n a l o g y between t h e c h u r c h e d i f i c e and t h e d i v i n e l y - c r e a t e d " t e m p l e du m o n d e . " See C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p . 5 9 . 33 U r a n i e ' s e x p l a n a t i o n i s c l o s e l y r e l a t e d t o an argument a d a p t e d by Jamyn f r o m Leone Ebreo f o r a P a l a c e Academy d e b a t e . See Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p . 1 4 3 . 34 See b e l o w p p . 214 f f . 35 F o r f u r t h e r r e f e r e n c e s t o v e i l e d t r u t h , see D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s . f o l 2 6 r ; E n c v c l i e . p . 134; G a l l i a d e . f o l . 4 8 r - 4 9 v , 1 1 2 v - 1 1 3 r . 36 C f . W i n d , Pagan m y s t e r i e s , p p . 25 f f . 37 C f . t h e P o s t e l l i a n " e m i t h o l o g i e " o f " a m o u r " f o r C h r i s t as t h e means t o r e d e m p t i o n , E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 3 0 - 1 3 1 . 38 See above p p . 1 8 - 2 6 . 39 C f . above pp 5 4 , n . 5 5 . 40 I n h i s E n c y c l i e , p . 5 , L a B o d e r i e s t a t e s t h a t t h e m a j o r p a r t o f t h i s work was c o m p l e t e d as e a r l y as 1568. 41 C f . L a B o d e r i e ' s " C a n t i q u e a m o n d i t S e i g n e u r . l e Due [ d ' A l e n c o n ] p o u r E s t r e n e s l ' A n 1 5 6 9 , " E n c y c l i e , p . 2 4 1 : V i e n e donques b i e n t o s t l e temps que j e s o u h a i t e , E t me r e n d r e m e i l l e u r P r o p h e t e que P o ' e t e . 42 ., e L e o n t i n e Z a n t a , L a R e n a i s s a n c e du s t o x c i s m e au X V I s i e c l e ( P a r i s : C h a m p i o n , 1 9 1 4 ) , p p . 1 2 9 , 1 3 2 - 1 3 3 . 43 S e c r e t , "Humanisme f l o r e n t i n , " p . 1 0 7 . 44 S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p . 2 4 . 45 F o r summary s t u d i e s o f t h e w o r k see H e n r y H o r n i c k , "Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ' s L a G a l l i a d e and R e n a i s s a n c e S y n c r e t i s m , " Modern Language N o t e s , L X X V I ( 1 9 6 1 ) , p p . 7 3 5 - 7 4 2 ; S c h m i d t , P o g s i e s c i e n t i f i q u e , p p . 1 9 0 - 209; and S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 1 2 3 - 1 5 2 . 155 46 Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p . 1 4 , r e m a r k s t h a t D o r a t c o n t r i b u t e d a s e t o f c o n g r a t u l a t o r y v e r s e s f o r a l m o s t e v e r y book o f i m p o r t a n c e p u b l i s h e d i n F r a n c e i n t h e l a t t e r p a r t o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y . 47 See L u c i e n F e b v r e , Au c o e u r r e l i g i e u x du s e i z i e m e s i e c l e ( P a r i s : S e v p e n , 1 9 5 7 ) , p p . 2 8 1 - 2 8 7 . C f . a l s o S c h m i d t ' s comment ( i n P o C s i e s c i e n t i f i q u e , p . 209) on L a B o d e r i e ' s c h a u v i n i s m ; " c e t t e t e n d a n c e a i m p r o u v e r l a d e i f i c a t i o n d ' A t h e n e s e t de Rome, au nom d ' u n e h y p o t h e t i q u e t r a d i t i o n b i b l i q u e e t g a u l o i s e . " 48 F o r a d d i t i o n a l c o n n o t a t i o n s o f t h e t e r m a c c o r d i n g t o P o s t e l ' s " e m i t h o l o g i e " see S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 2 5 . The name i s r e l a t e d t o t h e d e s c e n d a n t s o f Noah as " G a l l i , r e t i r e des o n d e s . " I t i m p l i e s a l s o t h e r e s t i t u t i o n p r o p h e s i e d i n " ' l a G a l l i a ou G a l u y a h , c ' e s t - a - d i r e chose d e c o u v e r t e e t e s l e v e e v e r s l e c i e l ' " as w e l l as t h e p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n C h r i s t t h e A r c h e t y p e r e p r e s e n t e d by t h e f i n a l " H e " o f t h e Tetragr am m aton i n " l a G a l e o r i a , l a g l o i r e , r e v e l a t i o n de l a l u m i e r e supreme e t i n f i n i e , p a r t a g e du p e u p l e g a l l i q u e q u i a r e t e n u e l e p r e m i e r nom de l ' u n i v e r s . " 49 F o r t h e F i c i n i a n c o n c e p t o f t h e b a s i c u n i t y o f a l l t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s and o f t h e i r p e r f e c t i o n i n t h e " g o l d e n a g e " o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e , s e e C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 6 1 , 174. C f . G a l l i a d e , f o l . 6 9 r . 50 S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 2 5 , n o t e s t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f P o s t e l ' s theme o f " l a G o m e r i e , ' l a consommation de t o u t , " 1 r e l a t e d t o t h e name o f Gomer, s o n o f J a p h e t , o r i g i n a l f o u n d e r o f F r a n c e and a n c e s t o r o f a l l F r e n c h k i n g s . See above p . 1 5 2 , n . 2 0 . F . G o d e f r o y , D i c t i o n n a i r e de l ' a n c i e n n e l a n g u e f r a n c a i s e . . . , ( P a r i s , 1888; V a d u z : K l a u s R e p r i n t , 1 9 6 5 ) , v o l . 5 , p . 5 4 , g i v e s : " L U S , l u z , s . f . , l u m i e r e . " D i v i n e i l l u m i n a t i o n o r r e v e l a t i o n i s s a i d t o h a v e b e e n g r a n t e d f i r s t t o I s r a e l . 52 53 54 55 S c h m i d t , P o e s i e s c i e n t i f i q u e , p p . 260, 199. C f . b e l o w p p . 165 f f . See above p p . 1 4 - 1 5 . T h i s image was u s e d by F i c i n o t o r e p r e s e n t t h e s p a t i a l u n i v e r s e . I t was a l s o o f t e n a d o p t e d , w i t h t h e m o d i f i c a t i o n of. added w i n g s , as an image o f t e m p o r a l r e v o l u t i o n . See C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , 156 p . 7 2 , and G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s s y m b o l i c a e , " p . 1 7 2 . C f . E r w i n P a n o f s k y , S t u d i e s I n I c o r i o l o g y : H u m a n i s t i c Themes i n t h e A r t of. the R e n a i s s a n c e (New Y o r k : H a r p e r and Row, 1 9 6 7 , c l 9 3 9 ) , p l . X X I I , X X X I V . 56 Don Cameron A l l e n , T h e Legend o f N o a h : R e n a i s s a n c e R a t i o n a l i s m i n A r t , S c i e n c e , and L e t t e r s ( U r b a n a , 1 1 1 . : U n i v e r s i t y o f I l l i n o i s P r e s s , 1 9 6 3 ) , p p . 1 1 3 - 1 3 7 . C f . Du B a r t a s ' t r e a t m e n t o f t h e theme i n h i s Seconde Semaine and L e m a i r e des B e i g e s 1 L e s I l l u s t r a t i o n s de G a u l e e t s i n g u l a r i t e z de T r d y e . A n n i u s o f V i t e r b o p u b l i s h e d i n 1498 h i s Commentaria s u p e r o p e r a d i v e r s o r u m a u c t o r u m de a n t i q u i t a t i b u s . I t c o n t a i n s a f o r g e d h i s t o r y o f B a b y l o n f r o m t h e t i m e o f Noah w h i c h p u r p o r t s t o be t h a t o f B e r o s u s , a h i s t o r i c a l p r i e s t o f B a b y l o n . The w o r k i n c l u d e s an a c c o u n t o f Gomer, t h e m y t h i c a l f o u n d e r o f G a u l . F o r a b r i e f a c c o u n t o f t h i s w o r k , s e e A l l e n , Legend o f N o a h , p p . 1 1 4 - 1 1 5 . 5 8 F o r a d u m b r a t i o n s o f t h e f i g u r e o f Noah as P r o m e t h e u s , S a t u r n , O g y g e s , D e u c a l i o n , J a n u s , H e r c u l e s , G a l l u s , S o l , e t c . , see i b i d . , p . 8 3 . 59 F o r an e x p l a n a t i o n o f t h i s P o s t e l l i a n theme o f h e r m a p h r o d i t i c m e t e m p s y c h o s i s , see S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 3 0 . 60 The K a b b a l i s t i c s i g n i f i c a n c e o f d i v i s i o n s i n t o f o u r , f i v e , s e v e n and s e v e n t y - t w o as w e l l as t h e t w e l v e o f t h e Z o d i a c i s t r e a t e d i n t h e Second C i r c l e o f t h e G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 6 v - 3 7 v . F o r t h e m u l t i p l e v a l e n c y o f t h e number s e v e n t y - t w o , see S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 1 3 0 - 1 3 3 . 61 S c h m i d t , P o e s i e s c i e n t i f i q u e , p . 1 9 7 , r e m a r k s : " R i e n n ' e s t mieux p r o p r e que ce p a s s a g e a m o n t r e r combien 1 ' i m p l a c a b l e d e t e r m i n i s m e a s t r a l des R o n s a r d e t des P e l e t i e r p e u t e t r e e x t e n u e p a r une s o r t e de k a b b a l e p l a t o n i c i e n n e d o n t l e s modes i n f l u e n c e n t t o u t e l a p o e s i e s c i e n t i f i q u e de l a f i n de l a R e n a i s s a n c e f r a n c a i s e . " 6 2 See above p p . 7 8 - 7 9 . 6 3 A m a r g i n a l n o t e r e f e r s t o a l e t t e r f r o m Erasmus t o Bude i n w h i c h Erasmus d e c l a r e s H o l l a n d t o be a p a r t o f G a u l . ^ 4 A l t h o u g h L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f a r c h i t e c t u r e . i s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h o c c u l t i s m and m a g i c , i t s i d e a l i s m c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f a l l L a B o d e r i e ' s themes can be u n d e r s t o o d i n t h e c o n t e x t o f e x p o s i t i o n s o f u n i v e r s a l harmony common t o T y a r d ' s d i a l o g u e s on m u s i c and P h i l i b e r t de l ' O r m e ' s t r e a t i s e on a r c h i t e c t u r e . See Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p . 1 4 0 , and C f . C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 5 7 - 5 9 , 6 4 , 7 7 , n . 3 . 9 9 - 1 0 6 . 157 65 F o r t h e c o n t r a s t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s " s c i e n t i f i c " t h o u g h t w i t h t h a t o f o t h e r p o e t s o f t h e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e , see S c h m i d t , P o e s i e s c i e n t i f i q u e , p . 1 9 8 . See a l s o above p . 1 5 2 , n . 2 3 . 66 F o r t h e P o s t e l l i a n a s s o c i a t i o n o f t h e s e terms w i t h C h r i s t , s e e S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 3 3 . F o r m e d i e v a l t y p o l o g y o f N o a h , see A l l e n , Legend o f N o a h , p . 1 3 9 . ^ F o r t h e s i g n i f i c a n c e o f Z a r f e t i e l , see S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 3 0 . F o r L a B o d e r i e ' s u s e o f t h e theme o f P a r i s as t h e new J e r u s a l e m , see b e l o w p p . 163 f f . 6 8 F o r an a c c o u n t o f t h e s e " c l a s s i c a l " R e n a i s s a n c e a r t i s t s and a r c h i t e c t s , s e e A n t h o n y B l u n t , A r t and A r c h i t e c t u r e i n F r a n c e , 1 5 0 0 - 1700 ( L o n d o n : P e n g u i n , 1 9 5 3 ) , p p . 3 7 - 7 2 . 69 C f . t h e a c c o u n t o f F i c i n o ' s p r a i s e o f t h e p h i l o s o p h e r - p o e t - p r i e s t i n K r i s t e l l e r , P h i l o s o p h y o f M a r s i l i o F i c i n o , p p . 3 0 9 - 3 2 3 . ^ C f . P i c o , L a Harangue de l a d i g n i t e de 1'homme, t r . Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ( P a r i s , 1 5 7 8 ) , p p . 3 8 1 - 3 9 9 . ^ C f . G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s s y m b o l i c a e , " p . 1 6 7 . 72 A m a r g i n a l n o t e i d e n t i f i e s t h e e t y m o l o g y o f " R a z e n u i n s " who " f u r e n t a i n s i d i t s de R a z i n , q u i s i g n i f i e s e c r e t s , e t de J e n u n , q u i s i g n i f i e p r o p a g a t e u r s , comme p r o p a g a t e u r s de s e c r e t s . " L a B o d e r i e r e f e r s i n t h i s p a s s a g e t o t h e p s e u d o - B e r o s u s . 73 The s e v e n means o f p r o p h e t i c i n s p i r a t i o n a r e d e s c r i b e d i n t h e G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 9 v - 6 6 v . 74 See Raymond, I n f l u e n c e de R o n s a r d , p . 7 0 . ^ Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 4 3 - 4 4 , 5 6 , 6 6 , 1 4 0 , makes t h e p o i n t t h a t t h e F o u r t h and F i f t h C i r c l e s o f t h e G a l l i a d e show L a B o d e r i e ' s c l o s e r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h B a i f ' s Academy o f P o e t r y and M u s i c f o u n d e d i n 1 5 7 0 . T h a t r e l a t i o n s h i p i s a p p a r e n t e s p e c i a l l y i n t h e c o n c e p t o f m u s i c as an "image o f t h e E n c y c l o p a e d i a , " i n t h e h i s t o r i c a l i m a g i n a t i o n w h i c h c o n s i d e r s t h e G a l l i c B a r d s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f a n c i e n t m u s i c , and above a l l i n t h e emphasis l a i d on t h e m o r a l , p s y c h o l o g i c a l and s p i r i t u a l " e f f e c t s " o f p o e t r y and m u s i c s e e n as i n d i s s o l u b l y a l l i e d . 158 76 F o r a f u l l a n a l y s i s o f t h e H e l l e n i s t i c and m e d i e v a l C h r i s t i a n d e v e l o p m e n t o f c l a s s i c a l P l a t o n i c and P y t h a g o r e a n t h e o r i e s on m u s i c a l h a r m o n y , see S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 5 - 6 3 . 77 o f The n o t i o n t h a t p r e l a p s a r i a n man c o u l d h e a r t h e m u s i c A t h e s p h e r e s i s r e l a t e d t o t h e P l a t o n i c d o c t r i n e t h a t l e a r n i n g i s t h e r e c a l l i n g o f p r e n a t a l l y known t r u t h a c c o r d i n g t o w h i c h the human s o u l h e a r d b e f o r e i t s b i r t h , b u t has s i n c e f o r g o t t e n , the c o s m i c harmony i m p e r c e p t i b l e t o e a r t h b o u n d s e n s e s . The l e a r n e d p o e t - m u s i c i a n was o f t e n s u p p o s e d , i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e , to p e r c e i v e t h a t h a r m o n y . C f . E t i e n n e J o d e l l e ' s " C h a p i t r e en f a v e u r d ' O r l a n d e [de L a s s u s ] e x c e l l e n t m u s i c i e n , " c i t e d i n R. V . M e r r i l l and R. C l e m e n t s , P l a t o n i s m i n F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e P o e t r y (New Y o r k : New Y o r k U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1 9 5 7 ) , p . 2 0 . 78 C f . b e l o w p p . 1 6 9 - 1 7 8 . 79 C f . S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 24, 1 2 7 - 1 3 2 . 80 81 82 83 C f . i b i d . , p . 1 3 5 . See Weber, C r e a t i o n p o g t i q u e , p p . 1 0 9 - 1 1 1 . See W i n d , Pagan M y s t e r i e s , p p . 1 7 - 2 5 . F o r a s t u d y o f P o n t u s de T y a r d ' s i m p o r t a n c e i n B a ' i f ' s Academy w i t h r e g a r d t o t h e c o n c e p t o f t h e u n i o n o f p o e t r y and m u s i c and t h e " e f f e c t s " w h i c h were t o g a i n e d t h e r e b y , see Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 7 7 - 9 4 . 84 N i c o l a s D e n i s o t , f o r whose name t h e Count o f A l s i n o i s i s an a n a g r a m , e x e r c i s e d t h e a r t s o f p a i n t i n g , m u s i c and p o e t r y . He was a f r i e n d o f R o n s a r d and a s s o c i a t e d w i t h B a i f ' s Academy. F o r h i s a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h t h e Academy o f P o e t r y and M u s i c and f o r h i s c o m p o s i t i o n o f C h r i s t i a n hymns o f the C o u n t e r R e f o r m a t i o n , see Y a t e s , . F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 1 9 , 1 9 2 , and Weber, C r e a t i o n p o e t i q u e , p p . 1 3 6 , 1 5 1 . 85 The s i s t e r o f F r a n c i s I , a u t h o r o f t h e H e p t a m e r o n , was p r o b a b l y a d m i r e d by L a B o d e r i e p r i n c i p a l l y b e c a u s e o f the N e o - P l a t o n i s t e l e m e n t s i n h e r p o e t r y . The s i s t e r o f H e n r y I I I , w i f e o f t h e f u t u r e H e n r y IV o f F r a n c e , was a member o f t h e P a l a c e Academy and a p p a r e n t l y w e l l - d i s p o s e d t o L a B o d e r i e . See b e l o w p . 1 9 2 , n . 26. 159 86 These m u s i c i a n s were c l o s e l y a s s o c i a t e d w i t h B a ' i f ' s Academy. See Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 1 9 - 2 0 , 5 6 . 8 7 C f . b e l o w p . 220. 88 C a v e , D e v o t i o n a l - P o e t r y , p p . 7 4 - 7 5 , a f f i r m s t h a t t h i s w o r k "must have made a c o n s i d e r a b l e i m p a c t on t h e g r o w t h o f r e l i g i o u s p o e t r y . " I n i b i d . , p p . 2 4 9 - 2 5 1 , he comments on a t r a n s l a t i o n f r o m Sannazaro o f a poem on t h e p a s s i o n , t h a t " i t w o u l d be u n w i s e t o a t t r i b u t e t o i t any d i r e c t i n f l u e n c e i n t h e s h a p i n g o f t h e p o e t r y o f t h e coming g e n e r a t i o n ; n e v e r t h e l e s s , i t has c e r t a i n c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s w h i c h w i l l s o o n become w i d e s p r e a d i n F r e n c h r e l i g i o u s p o e t r y . " 89 C f . Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 2 3 - 2 5 , 3 6 - 4 2 , 7 0 - 7 1 , f o r a c o m p a r a b l e p u r p o s e i n t h e f o r m a t i o n o f B a i f ' s Academy o f P o e t r y and Mus i c . 90 S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 1 0 1 - 1 0 2 . 91 See above p . 4 5 . 92 F o r t h e theme o f t h e l i f e o f C h r i s t i n t h e g r o w i n g body o f d e v o t i o n a l l i t e r a t u r e a t t h e end o f t h e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e , see C a v e , D e v o t i o n a l P o e t r y , p p . 4 8 - 5 7 . 93 94 95 96 97 See Raymond, I n f l u e n c e de R o n s a r d , p . 273. See S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 1 0 3 - 1 1 0 . See b e l o w p p . 163 f f . See Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 3 4 - 3 5 , 1 7 5 - 1 7 6 , The poems i n h i s D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s p o e t i q u e s w h i c h r e f e r t o L a B o d e r i e ' s own l i f e i n c l u d e : " L e Tombeau de n o b l e s e t v e r t u e u x G e n t i l z - h o m m e s A n t o i n e V a u q u e l i n . . . e t P i e r r e l e F e v r e de l a B o d e r i e " ( f o l . 2 r f f . ) , " A M o n s i e u r de C r o i s m a r e , P r i n c e du Puy a R o a n . Graces de l ' A u t h e u r p o u r l a Palme o b t e n u e a u d i t P u y " ( f o l . 48 f f . ) , " L ' E p i t a f e de l ' A u t h e u r q u ' i l f e i s t e s t a n t f o r t m a l a d e , e t p e n s a n t m o u r i r a L o u v a i n " ( f o l . 1 9 v f f . ) , and " E l e g i e . A l a B o d e r i e l i e u de n a i s s a n c e de l ' A u t h e u r " ( f o l . 6 2 r f f ) . 160 98 The poems i n h i s D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s p o S t i q u e s w h i c h t r e a t o f t h e a u t h o r ' s p u r p o s e i n c l u d e : a s o n n e t ( f o l . l v ) , " D i s c o u r s presentee a M o n s e i g n e u r f r e r e du R o y , l ' A u t h e u r e s t a n t r e v e n u de F l a n d r e s " ( f o l . 2 5 v f f . ) , "Ode a une p e r s o n n e d e s v o y e e , a f i n de l ' i n d u i r e a r e t o u r n e r a l ' E g l i s e C a t h o l i q u e " ( f o l . 3 1 r f f . ) , " A C a l l i o p e " ( f o l . 3 7 r ) , and a s e r i e s o f s o n n e t s , " C e n ' e s t pas moy . . . " ( f o l . 1 0 7 v f f . ) . 99 See Enea B a l m a s , Un P o e t a d e l R i n a s c i m e n t o f r a n c e s e , E t i e n n e J o d e l l e : l a s u a v i t a , i l suo tempo, B i b l i o t e c a d e l l ' " A r c h i v u m R o m a n i c u m , " S e r i e I , v o l . 66 ( F i r e n z e : O l s c h k i , 1 9 6 2 ) , p p . 6 8 7 - 6 9 1 . C f . L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f the q u a t e r n a r y i n a s o n n e t c e l e b r a t i n g t h e p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h e P o l y g l o t B i b l e o f A n v e r s , " A u Roy C a t h o l i q u e [ P h i l i p I I o f S p a i n ] , s u r l ' i m p r e s s i o n des g r a n d e s B i b l e s d ' A n v e r s " : L'Homme, l e f o r t L i o n , l e Boeuf e t l ' A i g l e en p o i n t e , M a t h i e u , M a r c , L u c , e t J e a n o r e s v o n t a c c o r d a n t L ' O r i e n t , l e M i d i , Le N o r t h e t l ' O c c i d e n t , E t N a t u r e , e t l a L o y , G r a c e e t R a i s o n c o n j o i n t e . N i n u s , C y r e , A l e x a n d r e , e t C e s a r l e p l u s c o i n t e Ont e s t e r e n v e r s e z du c h a r i o t a r d e n t : L e C h a l d e , P e r s e , e t G r e c , e t l e Rommain p r u d e n t Ont cede a l ' A g n e a u q u i a D i e u nous a p o i n t e . Ores l ' A i g l e , e t l e B e u f , e t l e L i o n , e t l'Homme P a r l ' H e b r i e u , S y r i e n , G r e c , e t p a r l e r de Romme D ' O c c i d e n t e t du N o r t h , du M i d i e t L e v a n t ; De l ' E u r o p e , e t d ' A s i e , A f r i q u e e t A t l a n t i d e V o n t c u e i l l i r l e s E l e u s du g r a n d D i e u q u i p r e s i d e , En R a i s o n , G r a c e , Loy e t N a t u r e e s c r i v a n t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 246) See S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 2 6 . 102 Weber, " Y a - t - i l une p o e s i e h e r m e t i q u e , " p . 5 4 , has a n a l y z e d t h s e r i e s o f f o u r as f o l l o w s : " M a l g r e l e s a p p a r e n c e s , ce s o n n e t e s t r e l a t i v e m e n t c l a i r , l e c h i f f r e 4 permet de r a s s e m b l e r l e s d i f f e r e n t s e l e m e n t s c o n s t i t u t i f s de l a v i e r e l i g i e u s e , de l a n a t u r e h u m a i n e , e t de l ' u n i v e r s : l e s q u a t r e p o i n t s c a r d i n a u x , l e s q u a t r e l i v r e s de l ' A n c i e n T e s t a m e n t , c o r r e s p o n d a n t aux q u a t r e sens de l ' E c r i t u r e , l e s q u a t r e e l e m e n t s de l a n a t u r e h u m a i n e , c o r p s , ame ( p r i n c i p e v i t a l ) , E s p r i t ( v e h i c u l e p a s s i f de l a C o n n a i s s a n c e ) e t Pensee ( v e h i c u l e a c t i f ) . P u i s l e s q u a t r e e l e m e n t s t r a d i t i o n n e l s de l a n a t u r e p h y s i q u e a u x q u e l s c o r r e s p o n d e n t l e s q u a t r e f l e u v e s du P a r a d i s t e r r e s t r e , en f i n l e s q u a t r e E v a n g i l e s avec l e s q u a t r e animaux t r a d i t i o n n e l s , l e s q u a t r e d e g r e s de b e a t i t u d e c e l e s t e avec l e s q u a t r e p l a n t e s s y m b o l i q u e s q u i l e u r c o r r e s p o n d e n t . " 161 103 C f . Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 1 5 9 - 1 7 6 . See a l s o C a v e , D e v o t i o n a l P o e t r y , p . 3 0 0 . 104 C f . b e l o w p p . 163 f f . C f . Raymond, I n f l u e n c e de R o n s a r d , p . 2 7 2 . See H e n r i Bremond, H i s t o i r e du s e n t i m e n t r e l i g i e u x en F r a n c e d e p u i s l a f i n des g u e r r e s de l a r e l i g i o n j u s q u ' a nos j o u r s , I I v o l s , ( P a r i s : B l o u d e t G a y , 1 9 1 6 ) . See a l s o C a v e , D e v o t i o n a l P o e t r y , p p . 2 9 4 - 3 0 9 . 162 CHAPTER IV THEMATIC CONTENT OF THE WORKS: TRANSLATIONS L a B o d e r i e u n d e r t o o k a l l h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s w i t h t h e a i m o f s e r v i n g h i s c o m p a t r i o t s , and e s p e c i a l l y t h e " d o c t e s " h u m a n i s t s among t h e m . 1 The themes r e l a t e p r i n c i p a l l y t o a r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f d i v e r s e r e l i g i o u s c o n c e p t s i n t h e t r a d i t i o n o f t h e s y n c r e t i z i n g F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s , o r t o P o s t e l l i a n m i l l e n a r i a n p r e d i c t i o n s . A . LE TRAICTE DU NOUVEAU COMETE The a p p e a r a n c e o v e r P a r i s i n November 1572 o f a new comet was t h e o c c a s i o n f o r L a B o d e r i e ' s f i r s t p r o p h e t i c work i n t h e s p i r i t o f h i s m a s t e r P o s t e l . W i t h h i s t r a n s l a t i o n , p u b l i s h e d i n 1574, o f t h e T r a i c t e " du nouveau comete . . . by t h e S p a n i s h h e b r a ' i c i s t and m a t h e m a t i c i a n 163 J . Mugnoz, L a B o d e r i e p u b l i s h e d h i s " C a n t i q u e s u r l a n o u v e l l e E s t o i l l e , o u A p p a r e n c e L u m i n e u s e q u i s ' e s t m o n s t r e e au C i e l d e p u i s l ' o n z e ou douzieme de Novembre 1 5 7 2 , j u s q u e s a p r e s e n t 2 0 . de J a n v i e r 1 5 7 4 . " I n t h i s l o n g poem h i s c o m p a t r i o t s a r e admonished t o p r e p a r e f o r r e s t i t u t i o n t o t h e i r o r i g i n a l w h o l e n e s s and p u r i t y a t t h e s e c o n d coming o f C h r i s t , and P a r i s i s p r a i s e d as t h e new J e r u s a l e m and s e a t o f t h e u n i v e r s a l , 2 m o n a r c h . The g r e a t comet was c o n s i d e r e d t h e phenomenon o f t h e age by f i g u r e s as d i v e r s e as t h e a s t r o n o m e r Tycho B r a h e ; t h e P r o t e s t a n t Theodore de B e z e ; and a p r o f e s s o r o f m a t h e m a t i c s a t t h e C o l l e g e des l e c t e u r s 3 r o y a u x , C o r n e l i u s Gemma (1535-1578) . F o r t h e l a t t e r two t h e comet was a s i g n a l o f a new coming o f C h r i s t ; f o r G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l i t was a c o n f i r m a t i o n o f h i s m i l l e n a r i a n and n a t i o n a l p r o p h e c i e s c o n c e r n i n g t h e new age o f man t o be f o u n d e d by 4 h i m s e l f as " P a p e A n g e l i k e " and by t h e F r e n c h k i n g as u n i v e r s a l m o n a r c h . P o s t e l ' s " g m i t h o l o g i e " p e r m i t t e d h i m t o d e r i v e C a s s o i p a e a , t h e c o n - s t e l l a t i o n i n w h i c h the new comet a p p e a r e d , f r o m C u s , . engendered by Ham i n N o a h ' s A r c i n c o n t r a v e n t i o n o f t h e l a w o f a b s t i n e n c e . Cus was t h u s t h e l e g e n d a r y f o r e f a t h e r n o t o n l y o f a l l t h e d a r k - s k i n n e d A f r i c a n s marked by N o a h ' s c u r s e b u t a l s o o f t h e d a r k - s o u l e d t y r a n t s o f t h e M o n a r c h i e s about whom D a n i e l had p r o p h e s i e d . The a p p e a r a n c e o f t h e new s t a r i n t h a t c o n s t e l l a t i o n s i g n i f i e d t h a t t h e r e i g n o f C h r i s t " I n t r a N o s " ^ was t o s u c c e e d t h e f o r m e r r e i g n o f the t y r a n t s , e s p e c i a l l y inasmuch as t h e new s t a r j u s t p r e c e d e d t h e s e v e n t h and s u p p o s e d l y f i n a l g r e a t c o n j u n c t i o n w h i c h was t o o c c u r i n t h e s i g n o f A r i e s s i g n i f y i n g a r e n e w a l 164 o f r e i g n s . The a p p e a r a n c e o f t h e new comet i s t h u s l i n k e d w i t h t h e K a b b a l i s t i c theme o f t h e G r e a t J u b i l e e , t h e G r e a t S a b b a t h whose d a t e P o s t e l c a l c u l a t e d a c c o r d i n g t o E l i j a h ' s p r o p h e c y o f t h e 6000 y e a r s o f the w o r l d , as i n 1 5 8 1 . L a B o d e r i e s t r e s s e s t h i s P o s t e l l i a n p r o p h e c y . A p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t a d d r e s s e d t o " M . D e s p r e z , C a p p i t a i n e des E n f a n s de P a r i s " 7 j u s t i f i e s t h e r e a d i n g o f c e l e s t i a l phenomena as s i g n s o f G o d ' s w i l l , a s s i g n i n g t o man t h e c o s m o l o g i c a l r o l e s u g g e s t e d i n P i c o ' s o r a t i o n on t h e d i g n i t y o f man: D ' a u t a n t que D i e u a m i s 1'homme en ce t e m p l e r o n d A i n s i comme au m i l i e u , a f i n q u ' i l y c o n t e m p l e Sa h a u t e M a j e s t e , l ' o u v r i e r e de ce t e m p l e , E t l e s e f f e t s d i v e r s q u i de nouveau s ' y f o n t E t l e sage i c y has e s t G r e f f i e r de n a t u r e . ( T r a i c t e , n . p . ) A n o t h e r s o n n e t j u s t i f i e s t h e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f h e a v e n l y " s i g n s " by r e f e r e n c e t o Orpheus and t h e d o c t r i n e o f v e i l e d t r u t h , w h i l e a f f i r m i n g once more L a B o d e r i e ' s d e s i r e t o s e r v e h i s p e o p l e by s h o w i n g t h e way t o a harmony o f i n t e r e s t s : On d i e t que l e p r e m i e r O r f e e e n t r e l e s G r e c s A remarque du C i e l l e s S i g n e s e t images L e s q u e l s i l a v o y l e z d e s s o u s o b s c u r s nuages P o u r ne p r o f a n e r p o i n t au p e u p l e ses s e c r e t z : P o u r c e quand i l f u t m o r t a v e c t r i s t e s r e g r e t s On m i s t s a L y r e au c i e l , e t a i n s i q u ' a u x ombrages E l l e a v o i t f a i t d a n s e r boys e t b e s t e s s a u l v a g e s A i n s i f e i s t e l l ' b a i l e r l e s A s t r e s p a r d e g r e z . A v e c l ' A s t r e nouAtau de nouveau p e u s t O r f e e Sous l a L y r e a s e p t t o n s de s e p t n e r f s e s t o f e e S i b i e n mener cy bas l e s hommes a l a danse Q u ' a y a n s d ' e n t r e eux c h a s s e ' l e s n o i s e s e t d i s c o r s E t du Phebus d i v i n e n t e n d a n s l e s a c c o r s I l s p e u s s e n t t o u s d ' u n pas v e n i r a l a c a d a n c e . L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE ( T r a i c t g , n . p . ) 165 The " C a n t i q u e s u r l a n o u v e l l e E s t o i l l e " r e c a l l s t h e s t a r w h i c h announced t o t h e t h r e e k i n g s t h e f i r s t i n c a r n a t i o n o f C h r i s t . I t i s s e e n as a p r e f i g u r a t i o n o f t h e new s t a r w h i c h announces t o t h e t h r e e g F r e n c h p r i n c e s t h e s e c o n d coming o f C h r i s t i n t h e h e a r t o f e v e r y man, f o r e v e r y man was t o be r e s t o r e d t o h i s o r i g i n a l p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n t h e d i v i n e A r c h e t y p e : J a d i s en P e r s e a p p a r u t a t r o i s Roys Un A s t r e n e u f , q u i p a r d i v e r s e n d r o i s L e s amena d r o i t a l a p r o p r e p l a c e Ou e s t o i t ng l e doux a u t h e u r de g r a c e : E t m a i n t e n a n t a nos P r i n c e s tous t r o i s D ' u n r o y a l c o e u r f i l s e t f r e r e s de Roys Se m o n s t r e au C i e l un A s t r e q u i d o i t e s t r e S i g n e c e r t a i n que J e s u s C h r i s t v e u t n a i s t r e Dedans noz c o e u r s , e t comme n o s t r e Chef Son T a b e r n a c l e y p l a n t e r d e r e c h e f L o g e a n t en nous s a l u m i e r e f d c o n d e L ' A s t r e nouveau q u i r e d o r e l e Monde. ( T r a i c t e , n . p . ) L a B o d e r i e u s e s t h e o c c a s i o n t o r e f u t e A r i s t o t e l i a n p h y s i c s : S i l e s C i e u x s o n t d ' u n e e s s e n c e e t e r n e l l e Sy p e u t - i l f a i r e une E s t o i l l e n o u v e l l e ? ( T r a i c t e , n . p . ) and t o o f f e r a more p o e t i c image c u l l e d f r o m t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a : N ' a u r o i t p o i n t l i e u 1 ' o p i n i o n des v i e u x P e r e s C a l d e z , q u i r a c o n t e n t q u ' a u x C i e u x Y a des t r o u s , p a r ou l e s Anges d a r d e n t Flammes de f e u aux y e u x q u i l e s r e g a r d e n t ? ( T r a i c t e , n . p . ) B u t h i s m a i n theme i s t h e P o s t e l l i a n p r o p h e c y o f t h e new r e i g n o f peace u n d e r a F r e n c h k i n g d i v i n e l y d e s t i n e d t o l e a d h i s p e o p l e d i v i n e l y e l e c t e d t o c o m p l e t e t h e h i s t o r i c a l c i r c l e o f t h e c h o s e n t r i b e s o f I s r a e l i n a r e t u r n o f h u m a n i t y t o G o d : 166 L e n o u v e l A s t r e e s t d ' u n r e g n e nouveau Le S i g n e h e u r e u x , r e g n e p a i s l b l e e t beau Dessous l e q u e l l a h a u l t e H i e r a r c h i e R e p l a n t e r a cy bas l a M o n a r e h i e Du Roy des R o y s , quand l u y de t o u t v a i n q u e u r A u r a f i c h e " s o n A s t r e dans l e c o e u r D ' u n p e u p l e e l e u , . . . L e C i e l nouveau e t l a n o u v e l l e T e r r e Que v i d j a d i s l ' u n des f i l s du T o n n e r r e E s t l e b e a u C i e l q u i 1 ' e s p r i t me r a v i t Le P a v i l i o n r e d r e s s e de D a v i d En t e r r e v i e r g e , o u e c l a i r e e t habonde L ' A s t r e nouveau q u i r e d o r e l e Monde. ( T r a i c t e , n . p . ) The comet o v e r P a r i s d e s i g n a t e s i t as t h e new J e r u s a l e m : L ' A s t r e nouveau q u i t o u t n o u v e l l e m e n t S ' e s t demonstre l u y s a n t au f i r m a m e n t Demonstre e n c o r l a s a i n t e C i t e b e l l e Q u i v i e n t de D i e u , JERUSALEM n o u v e l l e . ( T r a i c t e , n . p . ) I t s a p p e a r a n c e s h o u l d be a s p u r t o t h e F r e n c h m o n a r c h ' s r e c o g n i t i o n o f h i s r o l e : 0 t o y q u i es de l a C i t e f l a m b e a u , 0 des E s p r i t s l e S o l e i l t r o i s f o i s b e a u Q u i de t e s r a i z e n t o u r e s t o n E g l i s e , Fay que mon Roy au C i e l s o n A s t r e e l i s e , Q u i l e remene avec tous s e s Soudars C r o i s e z a b l a n c p l a n t e r l e s E s t e n d a r s Dessus l e s murs de l a g r a n d v i l l e s a i n c t e Ou l a C i t e en l u m i e r e d e p e i n t e Se d e c o u v r i t dedans l ' a i r m a i n t e s f o i s A u p a r a v a n t q u ' o n e u s t ouy l e s v o i x Des Anges s a i n t s d i s a n s en compagnie C h e r c h o n a i l l e u r s une C i t e b e n i e P a r i s sans p a i r s o i t l a s a i n t e C i t e S o i t s o n p o u v o i r t a n t du C i e l e x c i t e Q u ' e n t o u t l e Rond l a v i c t o i r e en redonde Sous 1 ' A s t r e n e u f q u i r e d o r e l e Monde. ( T r a i c t e , n . p . ) There f o l l o w a d m o n i t i o n s t o t h e p o e t ' s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s : 167 D & p o u i l l e z done l e v i e l homme cache E t s u r v e s t e z 1'Homme nouveau cache Q u i c h a c u n j o u r p l u s b e a u se r e n o u v e l l e T a n t p l u s en D i e u s a c o g n o i s s a n c e e s t b e l l e . Chassez-moy done t o u t e s v i e i l l e s h u m e u r s , E t vous o r n e z tous de n o u v e l l e s meurs P r i n c e s , P r e l a t s , P r e s t r e s , P e u p l e e t P o l i c e , E t a t t i r e z du h a u l t C i e l l a j u s t i c e P o u r s u r - v e s t i r s u r v o s t r e n u d i t e . ( T r a i c t e , n . p . ) L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e d i c a t i o n i s a d d r e s s e d e s p e c i a l l y t o t h e k i n g whose r o l e i n t h e body p o l i t i c i s l i k e t h a t o f the c o n s c i e n c e , m o o n - l i k e " m i r o i r de l ' a m e " i n t h e m i c r o c o s m . He i s c a l l e d upon t o embrace j u s t i c e i n d e v o t i o n t o G o d ' s p u r p o s e i n o r d e r t o s h i n e i n t h e w o r l d w i t h t h e i n f u s e d s o l a r g l o r y o f t h e K i n g o f k i n g s : E t vous mon R o y , q u i a v e c l e S o l e i l De l a P r e s t r i s e e s t e s l e s e c o n d o e i l Du c o r p s m y s t i c , e t du C i e l o r d i n a i r e L a b e l l e L u n e , e t m o i n d r e L u m i n a i r e , Redonnez-nous en c e s t e o b s c u r i t e De t o u s e s t a t s l a p r e m i e r e c l a r t e Que dedans vous l e S o l e i l de J u s t i c e Se l e v e t o s t , a f f i n q u ' i l e c l a r c i s s e T o u t e v o s t r e Ame en p a r f a i c t e Rondeur P o u r r e d o n n e r a l a t e r r e s p l e n d e u r . 0 s ' i l a d v i e n t que p a r a f f e c t i o n L a Lune a r r i v e a l a C o n j u n c t i o n Du g r a n d S o l e i l , e t que v o s t r e Ame e p o i n t e D ' u n s a i n t amour au Roy d'Amour s o i t j o i n t e , L a Lune a l o r s a u r a mesme s p l e n d e u r Que l a s p l e n d e u r du S o l e i l p l e i n d ' a r d e u r , E t du S o l e i l l a c l a r t e r e p l i e e S e p t a n t e f o i s s e r a m u l t i p l i e e : Son t h r o n e a l o r s a u r a ses d e g r e z s i x E t l e grand Roy dedans l e Roy a s s i s T r i o m p h e r a de s e s hayneux n u i s i b l e s T a n t des n o n - v e u s que mesmes des v i s i b l e s . ( T r a i c t e , n . p . ) The " C a n t i q u e s u r l a n o u v e l l e E s t o i l l e " s t a n d s o u t among L a 168 B o d e r i e ' s s h o r t e r w o r k s b o t h f o r i t s p o e t i c v a l u e and f o r i t s announcement o f m i l l e n a r i a n n a t i o n a l i s t themes t o be d e v e l o p e d i n L a G a l l i a d e . LA CONFUSION DE LA SECTE DE MUHAMED The c r u s a d i n g s p i r i t w h i c h i n f o r m s much o f L a B o d e r i e ' s l a t e r a d m o n i t i o n s t o H e n r y I I I i s a p p a r e n t i n h i s e a r l y t r a n s l a t i o n o f a w o r k d i r e c t e d a g a i n s t t h e Mohammedan T u r k s , t h e C o n f u s i o n de l a s e c t e de Muhamed p u b l i s h e d i n 1574. The d e d i c a t o r y l e t t e r t o Rene de V o y e r ^ echoes t h e f a m i l i a r a n g u i s h o f t h e C h r i s t i a n h u m a n i s t c o n f r o n t e d w i t h c i v i l r e l i g i o u s w a r s i n t h e g o l d e n age o f l e t t e r s , and a t the same t i m e s u g g e s t s t h e a p o c a l y p t i c message w h i c h L a B o d e r i e was t o t r a n s m i t f r o m P o s t e l : M o n s i e u r , s o u v e n t e s f o i s c o n s i d e r a n t en moymesme combien d ' u n e p a r t ce p r e s e n t s i e c l e a b o r d e en f e l i c i t e de c o n n o i s s a n c e de t o u s bons a r t s , t o u t e s l a n g u e s e t d i s c i p l i n e s : e t d ' a u t r e p a r t v o y a n t combien de j o u r en j o u r s o u r d e n t e t f o u r m i l l e n t de s e c t e s e t d ' h e r e s i e s n o u v e l l e s . . . . J e ne p u i s a u t r e c h o s e p e n s e r s i n o n que v o i c y l e d e r n i e r e t p l u s a s p r e combat de l ' E t e r n e l l e e t d i v i n e S a p i e n c e a l ' e n c o n t r e de 1 ' e s p r i t de mensonge e t d ' e r r e u r . ( C o n f u s i o n , n . p . ) F u r t h e r m o r e , i n s u c h a t i m e o f c i v i l s t r i f e t h e p r i n c e s c o u l d n o t u n i t e 169 t o combat t h e i r common pagan enemy, t h e T u r k s : D e s q u e l s l a L o y , ou p l u t o s t l ' e x e c r a b l e b i a s f e m e n ' e s t f o n d e e en r a i s o n , ny appuyee d ' a u c u n e a u t h o r i t y d i v i n e . . . ( C o n f u s i o n , n . p . ) L a B o d e r i e ' s dream o f harmony and h i s d e s i r e t o s e r v e t h e t r u e f a i t h a r e p r e s e r v e d , f o r he w o u l d s h u n t h e "hommes t u r b u l e n t s , t e n e b r e u x e t a f f e c t e u r s de n o u v e a u t e z " t o be among t h e C h r i s t i a n h u m a n i s t s : . . . hommes p a i s i b l e s , . f i l s de l u m i e r e , e t a d m i r a t e u r s de l a v e n e r a b l e a n t i q u i t y s e m e t t e n t en t o u t d e v o i r de l e s c o m b a t t r e e t r e f u t e r , e t de r e t e n i r e t g a r d e r l a s a c r e s a i n t e u n i o n de l a j o y i n v i o l e e . ( C o n f u s i o n , n . p . ) C . L'HARMONIE DU MONDE The most i m p o r t a n t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n s i s u n d o u b t e d l y 12 t h a t o f t h e De h a r m o n i a mundi (1525) by F r a n c i s c o G i o r g i o ( 1 4 6 0 - 1 5 4 0 ) . I t s p u b l i c a t i o n i n 1578 as L ' H a r m o n i e du monde t o g e t h e r w i t h N i c o l a s Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f P i c o ' s H e p t a p l u s i s s a i d t o mark " t h e h i g h - w a t e r s h e d o f t h e i n t e n s e i n t e l l e c t u a l a c t i v i t y a s s o c i a t e d 13 w i t h t h e F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s . " L a B o d e r i e h i m s e l f a t t e s t s t o i t s r e l e v a n c e t o h i s l i f e w o r k . H a v i n g r e f e r r e d t o h i s own e l a b o r a t i o n o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e theme i n 170 1 ' E n c y c l i e and t o h i s h a r m o n i z i n g o f C h r i s t i a n and J e w i s h h i s t o r y i n the " t h g o l o g i e r e s o l u t i v e " o f L a G a l l i a d e , L a B o d e r i e d e c l a r e s i n h i s " E p i s t r e en forme de P r e f a c e " t h a t G i o r g i o ' s r e - s t a t e m e n t o f h i s own i d e a s i n d u c e d h i m t o d e v o t e t h r e e y e a r s t o t h i s t r a n s l a t i o n i n o r d e r t o " t o u s j o u r s c o n t i n u e r l e s e r v i c e que j e veux r e n d r e a l ' E g l i s e C a t h o l i q u e e t a ce r o y a u m e . " ( H a r m o n i e , n . p . ) L ' H a r m o n i e du monde i s i n f a c t a compendium o f themes f r o m t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , c h i e f l y f r o m t h e K a b b a l a h , a d a p t e d t o C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s . T h i s a c c u m u l a t i o n o f d i v e r s e themes, t h e r e c o n c i l i a t i o n i f n o t t h e c o h e r e n c e o f w h i c h was s u g g e s t e d i n t h e c o n t e x t o f m u s i c a l h a r m o n y , d e m o n s t r a t e d a p u r p o s e a l l i e d t o L a B o d e r i e ' s . He saw i n i t t h e p r i m a c y o f M o s a i c " s e c r e t r e v e l a t i o n " and h i s own p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h u n i t y i n d i v e r s i t y : B r i e f v e m e n t q u i c o n s i d e r e r a b i e n c e s t o u v r a g e i l l u y s e m b l e r a v e o i r un b e a u g r a n d t a b l e a u d ' o e u v r e de m a r q u e t e r i e f a i c t a l a M u s a i q u e , ou p l u s t o s t a l a M o s a i q u e , a u q u e l l e s P e t i t e s p i e c e s de d i v e r s e s f i g u r e s e t c o u l e u r s s o n t s i b i e n j o i n c t e s e t r a p p o r t e e s , que l e t o u t semble e s t r e d ' u n e s e u l e p i e c e de p l u s i e u r s p e i n t u r e s a r t i s t e m e n t e m b e l l i e e t d i s t i n g u e e . ( H a r m o n i e , n . p . ) I n a l e n g t h y e x p l a n a t o r y d e d i c a t i o n t o h i s t r a n s l a t i o n L a B o d e r i e r e a f f i r m s h i s own c o n v i c t i o n o f t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h , w h a t e v e r i t s s o u r c e : "comme a d i e t S . A m b r o i s e , e t a p r e s l u y S . Thomas, l a v e r i t e de q u i c o n q u e e l l e s o i t d i c t e e s t de 1 ' E s p r i t S . " G i o r g i o ' s w o r k i s i n t h e s y n c r e t i z i n g t r a d i t i o n o f t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s and t h e C h r i s t i a n K a b b a l i s t s . I t a s s i m i l a t e s , as do L a 171 B o d e r i e ' s o w n . w o r k s , t h e N e o - P l a t o n i c f i x e d h i e r a r c h y t o t h e K a b b a l i s t i c c o n t i n u o u s e m a n a t i o n o f S e p h i r o t h i n p r o v i n g t h e supreme U n i t y o f t h e C h r i s t i a n T r i n i t y i n t h e u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f whom a l l a p p a r e n t d i s s o n a n c e 14 i s h a r m o n i z e d . God i s t h e s o u r c e and t h e p r i n c i p l e o f t h e d i s c o r d i a c o n c o r s o f w o r l d m u s i c . L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e f a c e " s u m m a r i s e [ s ] and u n d e r l i n e [ s ] t h e r e l e v a n c e o f c o s m i c s t r u c t u r e t o p o e t i c t h e o r y and p r a c t i c e . " 1 " ' The b a s i c c o n c e p t i o n i s t h a t o f c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s between God and h i s c r e a t i o n 16 s u c h t h a t " t o u t e s c h o s e s s o n t en t o u t e s c h o s e s . " The h a r m o n i z i n g u n i t y o f God i s c o n f i r m e d i n c r e a t i o n t h r o u g h c o n t e m p l a t i o n o f " l ' O u v r i e r en l ' O u v r a g e " and by a n a l y s i s o f c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s i n " l ' l d e e e t n o t i o n u n i v e r s e l l e en l a c h a i n e e t e n t r e s u i t e des c h o s e s s e l o n l e u r s e s t a p e s e t d e g r e z , e t en l a c o r r e s p o n d a n c e des causes l e u r s e f f e c t s , e t des e f f e c t s e n v e r s l e u r s c a u s e s . " Thus f o r example a s t u d y o f a s t r o l o g i c a l i n f l u e n c e s t e a c h e s man b o t h t o know h i m s e l f and t o d e v i n e G o d ' s p r o v i d e n c e . F u r t h e r m o r e G i o r g i o uses K a b b a l i s t i c number s p e c u l a t i o n s and P y t h a g o r e a n m a t h e m a t i c a l m u s i c a l t h e o r y to p r o v e t h e supreme u n i t y o f God and t h e harmony o f h i s c r e a t i o n . The s t r u c t u r e o f L ' H a r m o n i e du monde i s e s t a b l i s h e d a c c o r d i n g t o t h e p a t t e r n o f t h e u n i v e r s e . God i s t h e supreme a r c h i t e c t o f " l e Monde u n i q u e e t t r i p l e , " d e s c e n d i n g f r o m t h e I n t e l l i g i b l e , " l e monde A n g e l i q u e , " t h r o u g h t h e c e l e s t i a l , " l e monde des S f e r e s , " t o t h e t e r r e s t r i a l , " l e monde E l e m e n t a i r e . " The f o u r t h w o r l d i s t h a t o f man t h e m i c r o c o s m , c a l l e d by t h e Hebrews " l e P e t i t - M o n d e , ou monde de l a S e p a r a t i o n " b e c a u s e he b o t h i s s e p a r a t e f r o m t h e o t h e r w o r l d s , and 172 a l s o c o n t a i n s them i n m i n i a t u r e a t t h e same t i m e as he i s c o n t a i n e d b y them. Thus t h e w o r k i s composed o f t h r e e " C a n t i q u e s , " each o f w h i c h i s d i v i d e d i n t o e i g h t " T o n s , " as m u s i c a l i n t e r v a l s , w h i c h d e v e l o p t h e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s , c o n s o n a n c e s , o r " c o n v e n a n c e s " o f t h e u n i v e r s e b o t h d i v i n e and human. I n t h e f i r s t " C a n t i q u e " an a p p r o a c h t o u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t h e supreme harmony o f God t h e c r e a t o r i s e f f e c t e d t h r o u g h a s t u d y o f t h e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s o f h i s w o r k s , b o t h c e l e s t i a l and human, n o t a b l y t h r o u g h t h e K a b b a l i s t i c a n a l o g i e s o f t h e s e w i t h t h e d i v i n e as d e m o n s t r a t e d i n t h e s y m b o l i s m o f the T a b e r n a c l e . I n t h e s e c o n d " C a n t i q u e " C h r i s t i s he i n whom " t o u t e s c h o s e s r e s p o n d e n t . . . en d i v e r s e c o n s o n a n c e . " He i s a t once t h e f i r s t - c r e a t e d C r e a t o r c o m p a r a b l e t o t h e P l a t o n i c d e m i u r g e , " l a S a p i e n c e de D i e u e t s o n V e r b e c o n t e n a n t t o u t e s c h o s e s en r a i s o n I d e a l l e ou n o t i o n n e l l e , " and t h e a r c h e t y p a l m a s t e r p i e c e o f c r e a t i o n , t h e m y s t i c Adam, " l e g r a n d Homme A r c h e t y p e comprenant de f a i c t en soy-mesme t o u t e s l e s choses i n f e r i e u r e s . " I n t h e t h i r d " C a n t i q u e " t h e a u t h o r s e t s f o r t h t h e means t o man's s p i r i t u a l and b o d i l y harmony t h r o u g h v i r t u e and i n t e l l e c t u a l u n d e r s t a n d i n g , h i s c a p a b i l i t y o f s p i r i t u a l harmony w i t h t h e h i g h e r w o r l d , and h i s g o v e r n i n g r o l e on e a r t h as a b e i n g w h o l e o f body and o f s o u l thus i n a c c o r d w i t h h i s own n a t u r e and w i t h t h e c e l e s t i a l w o r l d . The c o n c l u s i o n to L a B o d e r i e ' s e x p l a n a t o r y d e d i c a t o r y l e t t e r 173 i s i n e f f e c t a hymn t o t h e u n i v e r s a l harmony w h i c h was h i s own i n s p i r a t i o n as w e l l as t h e theme and s u b s t a n c e o f G i o r g i o ' s w o r k . Echoes o f D a v i d and o f Orpheus sound w i t h v a r i a t i o n s on K a b b a l i s t i c and c l a s s i c a l s i g n i f i c a n t numbers ( s e v e n , s e v e n t y - t w o , and n i n e ) and a symphony o f m u s i c a l i n s t r u m e n t s b o t h pagan and C h r i s t i a n r e s o u n d s i n p r a i s e o f God m a n i f e s t t h r o u g h t h e S e p h i r o t h and o f C h r i s t h i s " S a p i e n c e " and t h e a r c h e t y p a l M e d i a t o r . The w h o l e i s b r o u g h t t o a c l o s e w i t h L a B o d e r i e ' s p r a y e r f o r a h a r m o n i s a t i o n o f r e l i g i o u s d i s c o r d t h r o u g h an u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h w h i c h i t was h i s c o n s t a n t p u r p o s e t o p r e s e n t : T o u t e Pensee d o n n e r a l o u a n g e au S e i g n e u r , au r e p o s e t e r n e l , a u q u e l nous v u e i l l e c o n d u i r e l e P e r e , l e F i l s e t l e S. E s p r i t : E t non s e u l e m e n t n o u s , mais t o u s l e s h a b i t a n s d e s s u s l e r o n i de l a t e r r e , s i que tous d ' u n c o e u r e t d ' u n e bouche l e c o n f e s s e n t . . . e t en mesme d i v i n s e r v i c e , a d o r a t i o n e t r e l i - g i o n , e s t a n s t o u t e s s e c t e s e t d i s c o u r s a b o l i s e n t r e t o u s Royaumes, P r i n c i p a u t e z , e t P r o v i n c e s , a f i n que p a r t o u t e t e n t r e tous s ' e n t e n d e en p a r f a i c t s a c c o r d s l a g r a n d ' Harmonie du Monde. ( H a r m o n i e , n . p . ) L a B o d e r i e t a k e s o c c a s i o n , i n h i s summary t o L ' H a r m o n i e du monde, t o adduce r e f e r e n c e s t o t h e Zohar and t o t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i i n c o n f i r m a t i o n o f themes he had d e v e l o p e d i n h i s own w o r k s . Foremost among t h o s e themes i s t h a t o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e c o m m i s s i o n e d b y God f r o m Moses and i n w h i c h i s t o be s e e n by a n a l o g y t h e " s e c r e t r e v e l a t i o n " o f c o s m o l o g i c a l s t r u c t u r e . L a B o d e r i e i n s i s t s on t h e o r i g i n a l i t y o f h i s own t r e a t m e n t o f t h e theme i n t h e E n c y c l i e : " l e q u e l j e p u i s d i r e e t t e m o i g n e r en v e r i t e a v o i r d e s s e i g n e , f a i t , e t c o m p o s e ' a v a n t que j ' e u s s e l e u ny l ' u n ny l ' a u t r e des d e r n i e r s nommez." 174 The p a r a l l e l s a r e c l e a r , h o w e v e r . The e l e m e n t a l w o r l d i s r e l a t e d t o t h e " q u a t r e t a p i s " o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e , o r t o Raymond S e b o n d ' s " E s c h e l l e de N a t u r e " o f " l ' e s t r e , l e v i v r e , l e s e n t i r , e t l ' e n t e n d r e , " o r t o t h e Hebrew " l e m u e t , l e v e g e t a b l e , l e v i v a n t e t l e p a r l a n t . " The c e l e s t i a l w o r l d i s r e l a t e d t o t h e " d i x c o u r t i n e s " o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e and t h u s t o t h e t e n S e p h i r o t h o r " S f e r e s s p i r i t u e l l e s " o f t h e K a b b a l a h s e v e n o f w h i c h a r e r e l a t e d t h e p l a n e t s , t h e t h r e e h i g h e s t o f the S e p h i r o t h b e i n g t h e f i r s t m o v e r , " l a S f e r e t o u r n o y a n t e , " and t h e m e d i a t i n g I n t e l l i g e n c e , " l a S f e r e d ' I n t e l l i g e n c e , comme moyenne e n t r e l a m a t i e r e e t l a f o r m e , e n t r e l e mouvement e t r e p o s , e t e n t r e l e temps e t l ' E t e r n i t e \ " The i n t e l l i g i b l e w o r l d i s t h a t o f t h e t r i n i t y r e l a t e d t o t h e A r k o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e . I t i s " 1 ' A r c h e t y p e , monde i n t e l l i g i b l e , supreme t a b e r n a c l e , s a c r a i r e du Temple u n i v e r s e l , A r c h e d ' a l l i a n c e , s u r - c e l e s t e J e r u s a l e m , p o u r p r i s A n g e l i q u e , s e j o u r des e s p r i t s b i e n - h e u r e u x , ou de q u e l q u e a u t r e nom q u ' o n l e v u e i l l e a p p e l l e r . " L a B o d e r i e p r e s e n t s t h e T r i n i t y as common t o t h e "Sages H e b r i e u x " and t h e A p o s t l e s and "hommes A p o s t o l i q u e s " as " P e r e , F i l s e t S. E s p r i t , " " l a T o u t e - P u i s s a n c e , T o u t e - S a g e s s e , e t T o u t e - b i e n v u e i l l a n c e , " " l ' E n t e n d a n t , l ' E n t e n d u , e t 1 ' I n t e l l i g e n c e de s o y - mesme ( 1 ' E n t e n d e m e n t ) , " " l ' U n i t e , l a V e r i t e , l a B o n t e " o r " l e s t r o i s s u p r e m e s , Abraham, I s a a c e t J a c o b . " The supreme u n i t y o f t h e T r i n i t y e m a n a t i n g t h r o u g h t h e t e n S e p h i r o t h i s a f f i r m e d i n a m i x t u r e o f K a b b a l i s t i c m e t a p h o r s : 175 T o u t s o u r g e o n n e d ' u n e f o n t a i n e , e t combien que nous ne t r o u v i o n s pas t r e i z e S e p h i r o t h , l e s e c r e t de c e l a e s t p o u r c e q u ' i l y a t r o i s M i r o i r s ou l u m i n a i r e s supresmes au d e s s u s des d i x S e p h i r o t h , l e s q u e l z [ t h e l u m i n a r i e s ] n ' o n t p o i n t de commencement, c a r i l s s o n t nom e t s u b s t a n c e a l a r a c i n e des r a c i n e s . ( H a r m o n i e , n . p . ) Numerous e x a c t r e f e r e n c e s t o t h e Zohar s u p p o r t L a B o d e r i e ' s e x p l a n a t i o n s o f t h e a n a l o g i e s o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e . A n a l y s i s o f t h e d i v i n e name i n t h e Tetragrammaton "YHWH" r e l a t e s C h r i s t t o the f i r s t - c r e a t e d C r e a t o r whose s e c o n d coming was announced by D a v i d : E t t o u t a i n s i ( d i s e n t l e s H e b r i e u x ) que l e Monde f u t c r e e p a r . . . Hg . . . c ' e s t a d i r e p a r l e f i l s , l e V e r b e e t l a S a p i e n c e e t e r n e l l e du P e r e . . . a u s s i l i s o n s nous du T a b e r n a c l e , E t l a g l o i r e de l ' E t e r n e l r e m p l i t l e T a b e r - n a c l e . C a r l a he" d e s i g n e e e s t l a g l o i r e du S e i g n e u r . . . . E t c ' e s t ce q u ' a c h a n t g l e d i v i n H a r p e u r . . . P o u r h a b i t e r l a g l o i r e en n o s t r e t e r r e : C ' e s t a d i r e , a f i n que l e t a b e r n a c l e de D i e u h a b i t e en l a t e r r e de nos c o e u r s . ( H a r m o n i e , n . p . ) A g a i n , s t u d y o f t h e names o f God p r o v e s t h e K a b b a l i s t i c theme o f t h e a p o c a l y p t i c g r e a t S a b b a t h . The f u l l name " J e h o v a h E l o h i m " i m p l i e s t h e two q u a l i t i e s o f judgment and m e r c y , r e l a t e d t o t h e two a r t i s a n s o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e . T h u s : En somme ne p l u s ne moins ( d i s e n t - i l s ) que l e monde a e s t e c r e e , e t d o i b t e s t r e d i s s o u l s , p u i s r e n o u v e l e a p r e s l e S a b b a t h : A i n s i l e t a b e r n a c l e e t l e s a n c t u a i r e d e v o i t e s t r e d i s s o u l s e t d e s t r u i t , e t d e p u i s r e n o u v e l e . ( H a r m o n i e , n . p . ) Second i n i m p o r t a n c e o n l y t o t h e T a b e r n a c l e and i t s r e l a t e d themes i s L a B o d e r i e ' s c y c l i c a l h i s t o r i c a l and p r o p h e t i c " T h e o l o g i e 176 r e v o l u t i v e e t p r o p h e t i c " w h i c h was d e v e l o p e d i n t h e e p i s o d e o f t h e p e o p l i n g o f t h e e a r t h i n t h e f i r s t C i r c l e o f t h e G a l l i a d e . I n G i o r g i o he r e c o g n i z e s a s i m i l a r d e s i r e t o r e c o n c i l e t h e O l d Testament w i t h t h e New, t o r e l a t e J e w i s h and C h r i s t i a n h i s t o r y and p r o p h e c y , and t o show t h e c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s between a s t r a l s i g n s and e a r t h l y e v e n t s : E t en o u t r e p o u r h a r m o n i s e r l e C i e l avec l a T e r r e , e t l e v i e i l Testament avec l e nouveau 11 y c h a n t e e n c o r l ' H y m e n e e ou c h a n t N u p t i a l de l a T e r r e avec l e C i e l m a r i a n t l e s r e g i o n s e t p r o v i n c e s de l a t e r r e h a b i t a b l e a v e c l e s 12 S i g n e s du C i e l q u i l e u r commandent, e t ensemble t r a i c t a n t l a Concorde de l a f a m i l l e d ' I s r a e l avec 1 ' A p o s t o l i q u e de J e s u s c h r i s t e s l e i i e , e t des deux ensemble a v e c l e C i e l e t l a t e r r e . ( H a r m o n i e , n . p . ) The i n t i m a t e r e l a t i o n s h i p o f B i b l i c a l e x e g e s i s w i t h a s t r o n o m i c a l and g e o g r a p h i c a l s t u d i e s i n L a B o d e r i e ' s h i s t o r i c a l and p r o p h e t i c G a l l i a d e i s t h u s j u s t i f i e d by G i o r g i o and by r e f e r e n c e n o t a b l y t o t h e Abbe J o a c h i m , t o P i c o and t o N i c o l a s o f C u s a , f o r b a s i c t o a l l o f t h e s e i s t h e c o n c e p t o f " f i g u r a , " t h e p r e f i g u r a t i o n o f f u t u r e e v e n t s i n t h e h i s t o r i c a l r e a l i t y o f t h e p a s t . 1 7 Thus t h e h i s t o r y o f I s r a e l as f o u n d i n t h e O l d Testament i s b o t h v a l i d h i s t o r y and p r e f i g u r a t i o n o f t h e h i s t o r i c a l p a s t and t h e p r o p h e s i e d f u t u r e o f t h e C a t h o l i c C h u r c h as f o u n d i n t h e New T e s t a m e n t : C a r en l i s a n t l e s P r o f e t e s C a n o n i q u e s des H e b r i e u x e t r e m a r q u a n t l e s menaces ou promesses q u i s o n t f a i c t e s au p e u p l e d ' I s r a e l , p e u p l e p e c u l i e r e t c h o i s i de 1 ' E t e r n e l p o u r s o n p a r t a g e d ' e n t r e t o u t e s l e s n a t i o n s , l e q u e l e s t v r a y e f i g u r e de l ' E g l i s e C a t h o l i q u e , p u i s e s t e n d a n t l e p o u r p r i s de l a Judge ou t e r r e s a i n c t e s u r t o u t e l a t e r r e h a b i t a b l e d i v i s C e ( p a r m a n i e r e de d i r e ) en douze P a t r i a r c h e s , comme l a Judee l ' e s t o i t en 1 2 . 177 T r i b u s , on t r o u v e r a f a c i l e m e n t . . . a u s s i des evenemens f u t u r s q u i s ' y t r o u v e n t s i g n i f i e z e t d e p e i n s soubs l e v o i s l e des p a r o l e s o b s c u r e s e t m y s t e r i e u s e s . E t comme l e S . E s p r i t p r o c e d e du P e r e e t du F i l s , a i n s i du v i e i l Testament f i g u r a t i f , e t du n o u v e a u , ou l a v e r i t e de l a f i g u r e e s t e x h i b e e , r e s u l t e r a l e sens s p i r i t u e l de l ' u n e t de 1 ' a u t r e . . . . ( H a r m o n i e , n . p . ) The i m p o r t a n t theme o f the n e c e s s a r y h a r m o n i z i n g o f man the m i c r o c o s m w h i c h L a B o d e r i e was t o e m p h a s i z e w i t h h i s t r a n s l a t i o n o f F i c i n o ' s Les T r o i s l i v r e s de l a , v i e i s h e r e d e v e l o p e d a l s o . H e r e t h e number f o u r i s f u n d a m e n t a l as i n L a B o d e r i e ' s s o n n e t on t h e " G r a n d 18 Q u a t e r n a i e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 246) . N o t o n l y must t h e f o u r humours be r e g u l a t e d f o r good b o d i l y h e a l t h , b u t t h e body must be p u t i n a c c o r d w i t h t h e " Q u a t e r n a i r e de l ' a m e , q u i e s t l a T e t r a c o r d e de l'homme i n t e r i e u r , " and an e v e n more complex harmony must be r e a l i s e d w i t h G o d . i n t h e Tetragrammaton " l a supreme e t d i v i n e T e t r a c t y d e , s i e s t l e g r a n d E s p r i t h a r m o n i e u x " whose j u s t i c e and mercy a r e h a r m o n i s e d t h r o u g h C h r i s t t h e A r c h e t y p e and who o v e r s e e s t h e h a r m o n i o u s m u s i c and movement o f t h e S p h e r e s . L o v e and o r d e r a r e t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f C h r i s t i a n harmony i n 19 " c e s t E s p r i t d ' a m o u r e t d ' u n i o n . " Through h a r m o n i o u s m u s i c - m a k i n g man must g l o r i f y t h e supreme p r i n c i p l e o f w o r l d h a r m o n y . Thus i t f o l l o w s t h a t t h e u l t i m a t e g o a l o f man, t h a t i s t o s a y h i s u n i o n w i t h t h e d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e o f h a r m o n y , i s most n e a r l y a t t a i n e d t h r o u g h t h e s o n g and v e r s e o f w h i c h t h e P s a l m s a r e t h e h i g h e s t e x a m p l e : . . . c o n t i n u e l l e m e n t nous devons P s a l m o d i e r d ' e s p r i t e t de p e n s e e , c h a n t e r de c o e u r e t 178 de b o u c h e , e t c e l e b r e r en v e r s nombreux e t h a r m o n i s e z p o u r r e n d r e g r a c e s a c e l u y dond p r o c e d e t o u t e v r a y e c o n c o r d e e t h a r m o n l e . . . ( H a r m o n i e , n . p . ) 2 ^ I n c o n c l u s i o n i t i s c l e a r t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f G i o r g i o ' s Harmonie du monde was i n s p i r e d i n l a r g e p a r t b y t h e c o n c o r d a n c e o f t h e i r v i e w s and t h e common b a s i s o f t h e i r j u s t i f i c a t i o n s f o r t h o s e v i e w s . I n G i o r g i o L a B o d e r i e f o u n d an echo o f h i s s p a t i a l w o r l d v i e w b a s e d on t h e a n a l o g y o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e and a l s o o f h i s t e m p o r a l w o r l d v i e w b a s e d on t h e J e w i s h r e v e l a t i o n as " f i g u r a " o f C h r i s t i a n h i s t o r y and e s c h a t o l o g y . Above a l l , i n t h e m u s i c a l f o r m o f G i o r g i o ' s work as i n i t s h a r m o n i s i n g p u r p o s e L a B o d e r i e d i s c e r n e d n o t o n l y t h e m o t i v a t i o n o f h i s own l i f e work b u t a l s o an e x a l t a t i o n o f t h e supreme r o l e among men w h i c h he a s s i g n e d t o t h e p o e t and w h i c h he a s p i r e d t o f i l l as t h e new O r p h e u s / D a v i d , p r o p h e t and p o e t o f d i v i n e h a r m o n y . H i s c o n s c i o u s n e s s o f t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e r e n e w a l o f man t o be e f f e c t e d t h r o u g h t h e p o e t ' s d i s c l o s u r e o f a n c i e n t wisdom as f o u n d i n t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a and h e r e i n t e r p r e t e d b y G i o r g i o i s s u g g e s t e d by s e v e r a l t r a n s l a t i o n s f r o m t h e P s a l m s and f r o m t h e H e r m e t i c P i m a n d e r . The p o e t ' s m o t t o i n G r e e k h e r e f o l l o w s t h e t r a n s l a t o r ' s i n t r o d u c t i o n : "May H o l y D a v i d s p r o u t f o r t h as one O r p h i c a l l y . " D . 179 Two t r a n s l a t i o n s p u b l i s h e d t o g e t h e r i n 1578 a r e w i t n e s s t o L a B o d e r i e ' s d e b t t o t h e f o r e m o s t F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s . F i c i n o ' s De C h r i s t i a n a r e l i g i o n e (De l a r e l i g i o n c h r e s t i e n n e , 1578) and P i c o's De d i g n i t a t i s homine ( L a h a r a n g u e de l a d i g n i t e de 1'homme, 1578) a r e a t t h e c e n t r e o f t h e s y n c r e t i s t t r a d i t i o n o f C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s . L a B o d e r i e i s f a i t h f u l to h i s o r i g i n a l p u r p o s e , e n u n c i a t e d i n L ' E n c y c l i e , t o " p r o f i t e r l e p e u p l e de F r a n c e " i n t r a n s l a t i n g t h e work o f F i c i n o ' s w h i c h h e esteems i n h i s p r e f a c e : . . . une o e u v r e t r e s d o c t e e t f o r t n e c e s s a i r e p o u r l a r a d r e s s e de p l u s i e u r s devoyes e t c o n f i r m a t i o n des f i d e l l e s Chretiens e t bons c a t h o l i q u e s . ( n . p . ) 21 S e c r e t has n o t e d t h a t a t l e a s t t h r e e themes i n F i c i n o a r e o f p a r t i c u l i n t e r e s t i n t h e s t u d y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n : t h e a s s i m i l a t i o n o f C h r i s t t o t h e f i r s t - c r e a t e d " S a p i e n c e , " t h e p r o p h e c y o f 6000 y e a r s o f 22 t h e w o r l d , and t h e d e n u n c i a t i o n o f Mahomet. Even c l o s e r t o t h e s p i r i t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k was t h e t h e o r y o f v e i l e d t r u t h w h i c h had b e e n e n u n c i a t e d by Denys t h e A r e o p a g i t e and 23 w h i c h u n d e r l a y P i c o ' s " p o e t i c t h e o l o g y . " Thus f r o m P i c o ' s Harangue L a B o d e r i e t r a n s l a t e d : M a i s comme c 1 e s t o i t l a coustume des v i e u x , a i n s i O r f e e c o u v r i t de v o i l e s f a b u l e u s l e s m y s t e r e s de s a d o c t r i n e , e t sous l e g u i m p l e p o e t i q u e l e s d i s s i m u l a . . . . a n d : . . . q u e l l a b e u r que j ' a y e u , e t q u e l l e d i f f i c u l t e ce m ' a e s t e de t i r e r l e s s e n s c a c h e r de l a s e c r e t e p h i l o s o p h i e de d e s s o u s l e s a f f e c t e z o b s c u i r i t e z des enigmes e t des c a c h e t t e s des f a b l e s . . . ( H a r a n g u e , p . 437) 180 S e v e r a l themes d e v e l o p e d b y L a B o d e r i e a r e s u g g e s t e d i n t h e H a r a n g u e : man as p a r t a k i n g o f t h e A r c h e t y p e , t h e mors o s c u l i , t h e s y m b o l i s m o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e , and t h e u s e s o f r a t i o n a l k n o w l e d g e as 24 an a p p r o a c h t o k n o w i n g G o d . Above a l l , i n t h e Harangue L a B o d e r i e f o u n d e x p l i c i t j u s t i f i c a t i o n f o r r e f e r e n c e t o t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a as a b a s i s f o r C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s . One o f t h e p r e f a t o r y s o n n e t s t o h i s t r a n s l a t i o n d e m o n s t r a t e s h i s a d o p t i o n o f t h a t h e r i t a g e i n h i s 25 c y c l i c a l v i s i o n d e s c r i b e d i n t h e G a l l i a d e . A n o t h e r p r e f a t o r y s o n n e t e x p r e s s e s t h e t r a n s l a t o r ' s a d m i r a t i o n f o r P i c o , t h e p h e n i x o f h i s a g e , who as " C o u n t o f C o n c o r d " embodied L a B o d e r i e ' s v i s i o n o f u n i v e r s a l : A d m i r a b l e P h e n i x , Comte de l a M i r a n d e , En v i v a n t t u c o m p r i s t o u t ce que p e u t comprendre L e monde e l e m e n t a i r e e t l e monde des c i e u x , L e monde i n t e l l i g i b l e , e t du g r a n d D i e u des d i e u x L ' e s p r i t q u i l e s e s p r i t s de t o n c o e u r f a i t e s t e n d r e . ( H a r a n g u e , n . p . ) E . DISCOURS DE L'HONNESTE AMOUR A t t h e r e q u e s t o f M a r g u e r i t e de V a l o i s , Queen o f N a v a r r e , L a B o d e r i e t r a n s l a t e d F i c i n o ' s De amore ( D i s c o u r s de l ' h o n n e s t e amour 26 s u r l e Banquet de P l a t o n , 1 5 7 8 ) . The d e d i c a t o r y l e t t e r a d d r e s s e d to M a r g u e r i t e , " f i l l e , s o e u r e t espouse de r o y , " r e c a l l s L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e r n t o e l e v a t e t h e t o n e 181 o f F r e n c h p o e t r y : Quant a l ' A m o u r v u l g a i r e , c ' e s t un s u b j e t s i commun^ e t t a n t demene p a r noz P o ' e t e s , q u ' i l s e m b l e , comme a b i e n d i t q u e l c u n d ' e n t r e e u x , que j u s q u e s i c y c ' a i t e s t e l a P h i l o s o p h i e de F r a n c e c h a c u n a q u i mieux m i e u x s ' e m p l o y a n t a y a p p o r t e r du t o u t l e s b e l l e s e t g e n t i l l e s c o n c e p t i o n s de s o n e s p r i t . M a i s j ' e s p e r e que d e s o r m a i s t e l l e s v i a n d e s l e u r a p p o r t e r o n t e n n u y , e t c h e r c h e r o n t de r a g o u s t e r en t e l s mets que ceux q u i s o n t p r e s e n t e z en ce f e s t i n , quand i l s v e r r o n t que v o s t r e m a j e s t e se p l a i s t e t d e l e c t e aux p l u s douces e t s a v o u - r e u s e s v i a n d e s de l ' a m e . . . . ( D i s c o u r s , n . p . ) , The d e d i c a t i o n s u g g e s t s a l s o s e v e r a l themes i n F i c i n o ' s work w h i c h 27 i n t e r e s t e d L a B o d e r i e p a r t i c u l a r l y . These themes i n c l u d e C h r i s t as " l a S a p i e n c e e t e r n e l l e de D i e u , " .the " e m i t h o l o g i z i n g " o f t h e name o f t h e V i r g i n Mary t o "AYMER" r e l a t e d t o p e r f e c t l o v e consummated i n t h e mors o s c u l i , and t h e image o f the c i r c l e as e v e r l a s t i n g e m a n a t i o n f r o m and r e t u r n t o G o d . The t r a n s l a t i o n i s t h u s i n t i m a t e l y r e l a t e d t o L a B o d e r i e ' s 28 p o e t i c w o r k s t o w h i c h M a r g u e r i t e was s e e m i n g l y n o t i n s e n s i t i v e . I n an e l e g y a d d r e s s e d to h e r and i n c l u d e d w i t h t h e t r a n s l a t i o n , L a B o d e r i e i n d e e d a s k s h e r , l i k e Juno f o r O r p h e u s , t o i n t e r c e d e f o r h i m w i t h h e r b r o t h e r s i n o r d e r t o make them r e c e p t i v e t o h i s e n c o m i a s t i c p r o p h e t i c v e r s e . F . LES TROIS LIVRES DE LA V I E 182 L a B o d e r i e ' s d e d i c a t o r y l e t t e r t o " M o n s i e u r de V a u m e s n i l , C o n s e i l l e r e t m a i s t r e d ' h o s t e l " o f t h e Due d ' A l e n c o n , f i x e s h i s t r a n s - l a t i o n o f F i c i n o ' s De t r i p l i c i v i t a (Les t r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e , 1581) i n t h e c o n t e x t o f h i s c o n s t a n t p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h h a r m o n y . As man must s t r i v e t o r e s t o r e h i s o r i g i n a l a r c h e t y p a l p u r i t y by a r e t u r n t o C h r i s t , so he must a s s u r e c o n c o r d o f t h e m i c r o - and m a c r o c o s m i c w o r l d s , f o r w h i c h p u r p o s e he must a t t u n e h a r m o n i o u s l y h i s own m i c r o c o s m i c b e i n g : C a r t o u t a i n s i que p o u r b i e n a c c o r d e r e t h a r m o n i s e r l ' A m e , l ' A n i m e , 1 ' E s p r i t e t l a Pensde ( q u i e s t n o s t r e homme i n t g r i e u r ) a v e c l e g r a n d homme A r c h e t y p e , ou l ' h o m m e - D i e u n o s t r e S a u v e u r e t Redempteur J e s u s C h r i s t , i l e s t de b e s o i n que p a r bonnes m o e u r s , p a t i e n c e , h u m i l i t e , e s p e r a n c e e t c h a r i t e e t i m i t a t i o n de s a bonne v i e e t e s q u i s e s v e r t u s , t e l l e Consonance e t Harmonie s e m a i n t i e n n e e t c o n s e r v e : a u s s i p o u r m a i n t e n i r n o s t r e c o r p s ou homme e x t e r i e u r q u i se c o r r o m p t de j o u r en j o u r , e t p o u r l ' u n i r e t h a r m o n i s e r aveques l e g r a n d Monde, i l e s t b e s o i n de t e n i r en p a r f a i t s a c c o r d s l e s q u a t r e h u m e u r s , ou p o u r d i r e a i n s i , l e s q u a t r e c o r d e s e t n e r f s de l ' h u m a i n T e t r a c h o r d e , p o u r c o n s e r v e r en bonne e t deue t e m p e r a t u r e , e t ramener comme a 1 ' u n i s o n l a p a r f a i t e consonance e t h a r m o n i e de l a S a n t e . ( T r o i s l i v r e s , n . p . ) The m e d i c a l and a s t r o l o g i c a l p r e s c r i p t i o n s f o u n d i n t h i s work o f F i c i n o ' s a r e r e l a t e d p r i n c i p a l l y t o P l a t o and t o P y t h a g o r e a n t h e o r i e s o f m u s i c as a c a t h a r t i c as w e l l as a s y m p a t h e t i c and c o h e s i v e a r t w h i c h r e n d e r s 29 n o t o n l y t h e body b u t a l s o t h e s o u l h a r m o n i o u s and t h e r e f o r e h e a l t h y . T h u s : C e l a p o s s i b l e a donne o c c a s i o n a l a M y t h o l o g i e des a n t i q u e s P o e t e s de f e i n d r e e n l e u r s f a b l e s , u n mesme D i e u p r e s i d e r a l a M u s i q u e , 183 e t a l a M e d i c i n e , p o u r m o n s t r e r l e r a p p o r t , p r o p o r t i o n e t a n a l o g i e q u i e s t e n t r e l e s deux d i s c i p l i n e s . The c h a r a c t e r i s t i c P o s t e l l i a n v o c a b u l a r l y o f h i s p r e f a c e s u g g e s t s L a B o d e r i e ' s r e a d i n g o f t h i s N e o - P l a t o n i s t w o r k i n t h e l i g h t o f h i s K a b b a l i s t i c p r e o c c u p a t i o n w i t h t h e Tetragrammaton and t h e " G r a n d 30 Q u a t e r n a i e " w h i c h i n c l u d e s h e r e t h e f o u r h u m o u r s , t h e f o u r e l e m e n t s , t h e f o u r q u a l i t i e s , t h e f o u r s t r i n g s o f t h e l u t e as man t h e m i c r o c o s m , 31 and " l ' A m e , l ' A n i m e , l ' E s p r i t e t l a P e n s e e . " S i x s o n n e t s i n c l u d e d w i t h t h e T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e h a v e b e e n 32 q u a l i f i e d as " c e r t a i n e m e n t au nombre des m e i l l e u r s de ce p o e t e . " L a B o d e r i e ' s i n t e n t i o n i n t h i s t r a n s l a t i o n t o " p r o f f i t e r . . . aux d o c t e s e t v e r t u e u x " i s e l a b o r a t e d i n t h e s o n n e t s . They a r e a d d r e s s e d t o t h e " N o u r r i c o n s des n e u f S o e u r s , " p o e t s f o r whom L a B o d e r i e e x p r e s s e s 33 none o f t h e b i t t e r n e s s h e a r d i n f o r m e r v e r s e s , b u t r a t h e r a t e n d e r c o n c e r n and a deep r e v e r e n c e . B e c a u s e he c h e r i s h e s t h e i r good h e a l t h he has t r a n s l a t e d F i c i n o ' s w o r k . Inasmuch as the p o e t s b r e a t h e l i f e i n t o t h e dead and r e s t o r e t i m e p a s t , L a B o d e r i e ' s good c o u n s e l i s a s s i m i l a t e d t o p o e t i c c r e a t i v i t y as he a f f i r m s t h a t " v i v r e vous f a i s a n t , j e f a i s v i v r e l e M o n d e . " ( S o n n e t 1) The p o e t must be d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d , " d ' h u i l e s a i n t a r r o u s e e , " b u t he must a l s o be i n good h e a l t h , " 1 ' H a r m o n i e en v o s t r e L u t h p o s e e , " i n o r d e r t h a t he may p e r f o r m h i s C h r i s t - l i k e m i s s i o n o f c o n f e r r i n g i m m o r t a l i t y (Sonnet 2 ) . The p o e t ' s r o l e i n t h e S t a t e i s s u p r e m e , f o r n o t o n l y l i k e D a v i d does he charm p r i n c e s ' c a r e s b u t a l s o he s e r v e s as C h r i s t - l i k e m e d i a t o r and f u r t h e r m o r e 184 he g u i d e s t h e body p o l i t i c by h i s l e a r n e d and v i r t u o u s c o u n s e l ( S o n n e t 3 ) . Under t h e i n f l u e n c e o f Phebus A p o l l o , god o f m u s i c and o f m e d e c i n e , t h e p o e t s h a v e t h e power t o b r i n g harmony t o t h e i r d i v e r s e e l e m e n t s , humours and p l a n e t a r y i n f l u e n c e s ( S o n n e t 4 ) . God h i m s e l f , " l e S o l e i l de v i e , " w i l l a s s u r e t o t h e p o e t who i s p u r e i n body and i n s o u l b o t h a r t i s t i c e x c e l l e n c e and l o n g l i f e ( S o n n e t 5 ) . Thus t h e p o e t who has t h e g i f t o f b r i n g i n g l i f e and a r e l a t i v e i m m o r t a l i t y t o b o t h k i n g and commoner i s g e n t l y c a u t i o n e d t o c o n s e r v e h i s v i r t u e w i t h h i s good h e a l t h i n o r d e r t o p r e s e r v e m a n ' s d i g n i t y and h i s j o y ( S o n n e t 6 ) . G . DE LA NATURE DES DIEUX L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f C i c e r o ' s De deorum n a t u r a (De l a n a t u r e des d i e u x , 1581) was u n d e r t a k e n a t t h e r e q u e s t o f Henry I I I i n o r d e r t o c o n f o u n d t h e f r e e - t h i n k e r s o f t h e day w i t h t h e i r own a r g u m e n t s . S e v e r a l s c h o l a r s h a v e commented on t h i s use o f C i c e r o t o 34 c o u n t e r l i b e r t i n e t h o u g h t . C e r t a i n l y t h e i n t e n t i o n i s c o n s i s t e n t w i t h L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n t i n u i n g e f f o r t s t o s e r v e h i s s t r i f e - t o r n " p e u p l e de F r a n c e . " S e c r e t has e m p h a s i z e d t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f L a B o d e r i e ' s d e d i c a t i o n o f t h e work t o Henry I I I i n w h i c h p r a i s e o f t h e k i n g i s more t h a n a mere 185 f o r m a l i t y . By u s e o f P o s t e l ' s " e m i t h o l o g i e " L a B o d e r i e s t r e s s e s t h e d i v i n i t y o f t h e k i n g a n d , by v a r i o u s c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s , h i s r i g h t f u l p l a c e o v e r a l l t h e o t h e r w o r l d l y k i n g s : A i n s i e n c o r e D i e u a i m p r i m e en l a f a c e des Roys Ne s c a y q u e l l e g r a n d e u r que nous d i s o n s M a j e s t e , e t que l e s L a t i n s d i s o i e n t Numen, comme l e s H e b r i e u x a p p e l l e n t l e S e i g n e u r e t e r n e l Hassem, Numen e t Nomen, c ' e s t a d i r e l a d i v i n i t e e t l e Nom i n e f f a b l e , Homere a p p e l o i t l e s R o i s p a s t e u r s des p e u p l e s , l a q u e l l e f a c o n de p a r l e r i l a v o i t p o s s i b l e empruntee des H e b r i e u x , q u i a p p e l l e n t l e p a s t e u r " R o y " , ou comme i l s p r o n o n c e n t " R o h e " , l e q u e l nom D a v i d mesme, q u i de p a s t e u r a v o i t e s t e e l e v e a l a supresme g r a n d e u r de r o y a u t e , a t t r i b u e a D i e u . . . . Vous t e n e z l e mesme r a n g e t l i e u e n t r e l e s a u t r e s p r i n c e s e t p e u p l e s que f a i t l e c o e u r en n o s t r e c o r p s , l a P a n t a u r e e n t r e l e s p i e r r e s p r e c i e u s e s , v o s t r e l i s e n t r e l e s f l e u r s , l a Palme e n t r e l e s p l a n t e s , l e l y o n e n t r e l e s b e s t e s , l e D a u p h i n e n t r e l e s p o i s s o n s , l e P h e n i x e n t r e l e s o i s e a u x e t l e S o l e i l e n t r e l e s c o r p s c e l e s t e s . Thus t h i s p u b l i c a t i o n c a n be l i n k e d t o L a B o d e r i e ' s i n c r e a s i n g l y f e r v e n t p r e d i c a t i o n o f t h e P o s t e l l i a n p r o p h e c i e s r e g a r d i n g t h e G a l l i c u n i v e r s a l monarch f r o m t h e p o e t ' s " C a n t i q u e s u r l a n o u v e l l e e s t o i l l e " t o h i s d e d i c a t i o n o f t h e 1584 Novum Testamentum. Y e t a n o t h e r a s p e c t o f C i c e r o ' s w o r k i s even c l o s e r t o L a B o d e r i e ' s p e r s o n a l v i s i o n o f w o r l d h a r m o n y . P a s s a g e s f r o m t h e De deorum n a t u r a on t h e m u s i c a l w o r l d s o u l and i t s c o h e s i v e and s y m p a t h e t i c power must h a v e a t t r a c t e d L a B o d e r i e , t h e " n o u v e l O r f e e , " z e a l o u s t r a n s l a t o r o f G i o r g i o ' s H a r m o n i e du monde who h a d d e v o t e d a s e c t i o n o f h i s G a l l i a d e 36 t o a n a l y s i s o f m u s i c as s y m b o l i c o f c o s m o l o g i c a l h a r m o n y . L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f C i c e r o c a n be s e e n as e v i d e n c e o f 186 h i s d e s i r e t o r e c o n c i l e a l l v i e w s w h i c h c o u l d be r e l a t e d t o a C h r i s t i a n u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y . H . NOVUM TESTAMENTUM The r e p u b l i c a t i o n i n 1584 o f t h e t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e New Testament f r o m t h e S y r i a c i n t o L a t i n and G r e e k , w i t h a t r a n s c r i p t i o n 37 i n t o H e b r e w , c o n t a i n s t h e l a s t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s r e m a i n i n g w o r k . The d e d i c a t i o n to H e n r y I I I , a p p e a r i n g a t t h e t i m e when " t h e P h i l o s o p h e r K i n g o f t h e P a l a c e Academy was b e c o m i n g t h e P e n i t e n t and 38 H i e r o n y m i t e K i n g , " shows L a B o d e r i e as a p r e a c h e r o f P o s t e l l i a n and J o a c h i m i t e p r o p h e c i e s e n c o u r a g i n g h i s k i n g t o promote t h e p e n i t e n t o r d e r s s u c h as t h e " C h e v a l i e r s du S a i n t E s p r i t " as p r e p a r a t i o n f o r t h e new age i n w h i c h t h e F r e n c h k i n g was t o r e i g n as u n i v e r s a l monarch i n a u n i f i e d w o r l d p e n e t r a t e d by t h e s p i r i t o f G o d . A u s s i voyons nous 1 ' e s p r i t de D i e u se r ^ p a n d r e s u r s e s s e r v a n t s e t ses s e r v a n t e s : a r t s e t d i s c i p l i n e s o n t a t t e i n t l e u r sommet, nous avons a p p r i s t o u t e s l e s l a n g u e s g t r a n g e r e s , e t ce n ' e s t pas en v a i n que l e R o i t r e s c h r e s t i e n v i e n t d ' i n s t i t u e r l ' O r d r e du S a i n t E s p r i t . (Novum Testamenturn, n . p . ) L a B o d e r i e m u l t i p l i e s t h e r e a s o n s f o r h i s p r e d i c a t i o n . C o s m i c 39 s i g n s , e v e n t s p r e s e n t e d as f i g u r a e i n b o t h t h e O l d and t h e New 40 i 41 T e s t a m e n t s , o r a c l e s and p r o p h e c i e s , a l l c o n f i r m t h e p r i n c i p l e o f 187 " t h e o l o g i e r e v o l u t i v e " w h i c h i n d i c a t e s a c o n t i n u i n g r e n e w a l o f a l l 43 t h i n g s i n a l l g e n e r a t i o n s and a l l ages t o t h e end o f t h e w o r l d . The t o n e , i n a t i m e o f i n t e n s i f i e d r e l i g i o u s and p o l i t i c a l s t r u g g l e s , i s more f r e n e t i c t h a n t h a t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s e a r l i e r w o r k s : I I nous f a u t done m o n t e r , R o i t r e s c h r e s t i e n , s u r l e mont de S i o n , i l nous f a u t m a i n t e n a n t r e c o u v r e r J e r u s a l e m , i l nous f a u t l i v r e r combat aus T u r c s , p o u r que s o i t j u g e l e mont d ' E s a u , e ' e s t - a - d i r e l a m u l t i t u d e des i m p i e s . . . . C e r t a i n s de nos d o c t e u r s d i s e n t q u ' u n r o i de F r a n c e p r e n d r a 1 ' e m p i r e . I I s e r a dans l e d e r n i e r temps l e p l u s g r a n d e t l e d e r n i e r des r o i s . A p r e s un r e g n e h e u r e u x , i l v i e n d r a a J e r u s a l e m e t d e p o s e r a s a c o u r o n n e e t s o n s c e p t r e s u r l e mont des o l i v i e r s . (Novum Testamentum, n . p . ) The m a t t e r i s s t i l l t h a t o f P o s t e l l i a n i l l u m i n i s m s u p p o r t e d by t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a . L a B o d e r i e ' s f i n a l words convey h i s c o n s t a n t G a l l i c a n and C a t h o l i c p u r p o s e t o " p r o f i t e r au p e u p l e de F r a n c e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 8 ) . We hope t o have shown i n t h e above s t u d y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e s e n t a t i o n s o f h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s t h a t t h e y s e r v e t o i l l u s t r a t e f u r t h e r t h e themes a l r e a d y e l a b o r a t e d i n o u r s t u d y o f h i s o r i g i n a l w o r k s . L a B o d e r i e ' s f u n d a m e n t a l p u r p o s e was a l w a y s t o e f f e c t a r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f d i v e r g e n t b e l i e f s i n h i s t u m u l t u o u s a g e . H i s s e c o n d a r y a i m was t o i n c i t e h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s t o a s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l i n p r e p a r a t i o n f o r t h e new age when man w o u l d be r e s t i t u t e d t o h i s p r i m a l p u r i t y a c c o r d i n g t o P o s t e l ' s m i l l e n a r i a n p r o p h e c i e s . 188 L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n s o f t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s r e l a t e t o h i s p e r s i s t e n t f i r s t p u r p o s e . These i n c l u d e F i c i n o ' s De l a r e l i g i o n c h r e s t i e n n e , D i s c o u r s de l ' h o n n e s t e amour and L e s T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e , as w e l l as P i c o ' s Harangue de l a d i g n i t e de 1 'homme. W i t h t h i s group must be i n c l u d e d L a B o d e r i e ' s most i m p o r t a n t t r a n s l a t i o n , t h a t o f t h e V e n e t i a n f o l l o w e r o f t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s , F r a n c i s c o G i o r g i o ' s Harmonie du monde. C o n c e r n e d t o show t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h i n d i v e r s e p h i l o s o p h i c a l and r e l i g i o u s a u t h o r s , L a B o d e r i e ' s g o a l w a s , l i k e G i o r g i o ' s , t o so p r e s e n t them " q u ' i l s p a r o i s s e n t en s o n o e u v r e de l ' H a r m o n i e comme t u y a u x d ' o r g u e s ou' o r g a n e s dans l e s q u e l s s ' e n t o n n e l e s o u f f l e e t l e v e n t de 1 ' e s p r i t de D i e u . " (Harmonie du monde, P r e f a c e ) Thus he p r o p o s e d t o make r e a d i l y a v a i l a b l e t o h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s t h e p e r s u a s i v e p r o o f s o f t h e harmony o f r e v e l a t i o n c o n t a i n e d i n G i o r g i o , i n P i c o ' s Harangue and i n F i c i n o ' s De l a r e l i g i o n c h r e s t i e n n e . I n t h e D i s c o u r s de l ' h o n n e s t e amour he p r e s e n t e d t h e " c l a s s i c " N e o - P l a t o n i s t a c c o u n t o f p e r f e c t l o v e as t h e means t o t h e h i g h e s t u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f d i v i n e r e v e l a t i o n . I n L e s T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e he p r e s e n t e d t h e h a r m o n i e s o f t h e b o d y , o f body and s o u l , and o f t h e body w i t h t h e u n i v e r s e , f o r an u n d e r s t a n d i n g and a t t a i n m e n t o f a l l t h e s e h a r m o n i e s was n e c e s s a r y t o a f u l l u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t h e u n i v e r s a l harmony i m p l i e d by t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h . The s i x s o n n e t s w h i c h accompany t h a t t r a n s l a t i o n make c l e a r L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e r n t o e n l i g h t e n i n t h e s e m a t t e r s o f harmony above a l l h i s c o n t e m p o r a r y p o e t s , t h e l e a r n e d and v i r t u o u s l e a d e r s o f h i s c o u n t r y m e n i n t h e r o l e he w o u l d a s s i g n t o them as " O r p h i c " p o e t - p r i e s t s . 189 L a B o d e r i e ' s r e m a i n i n g t r a n s l a t i o n s a r e r e l a t e d g e n e r a l l y t o h i s c o n c e r n t o e f f e c t a C a t h o l i c r e l i g i o u s u n i t y , a s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l i n t h e F r e n c h p e o p l e p r e p a r a t o r y t o t h e new age o f C h r i s t ' s s e c o n d coming as p r o p h e s i e d by P o s t e l . The t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e C o n f u s i o n de l a s e c t e de Muhamed, d i r e c t e d e x p l i c i t l y a g a i n s t t h e T u r k s , shows i n L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e f a c e h i s r e a l i m m e d i a t e c o n c e r n t o r e n d e r p e a c e f u l and u n i t e d h i s own p e o p l e . C i c e r o ' s De l a n a t u r e des d i e u x c o n t a i n e d i n i t s e l f , a c c o r d i n g t o L a B o d e r i e ' s v i e w , arguments f o r d i v i n e c r e a t i o n by w h i c h he hoped t o p e r s u a d e t h e r a t i o n a l i s t a d m i r e r s o f C i c e r o h i m s e l f . The T r a i c t e du nouveau comete p r e s e n t e d what was f o r L a B o d e r i e as f o l l o w e r o f P o s t e l i r r e f u t a b l e c o s m o l o g i c a l p r o o f o f t h e coming o f a new a g e . H i s " C a n t i q u e s u r l a n o u v e l l e e s t o i l l e " p u b l i s h e d w i t h t h e t r a n s l a t i o n s p e c i f i e d t h e P o s t e l l i a n themes o f P a r i s as t h e new J e r u s a l e m r u l e d by a F r e n c h u n i v e r s a l monarch i n c o n j u n c t i o n w i t h a Pope o f a u n i v e r s a l C a t h o l i c C h u r c h . The l a t t e r theme was p r o p o u n d e d e v e n more a r d e n t l y i n L a B o d e r i e ' s d e d i c a t o r y p r e f a c e t o Henry I I I e x p l a i n i n g h i s r e p u b l i c a t i o n o f h i s t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e Novum Testamentum. I n c o n c l u s i o n , we hope t o have shown t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s m o t i v e s f o r p u b l i c a t i o n o f h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s were t h o s e o f a l l h i s p u b l i s h e d w o r k : t h e d e m o n s t r a t i o n o f a u n i v e r s a l harmony b a s e d on a c o n v i c t i o n o f t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h , and t h e d e s i r e t o e f f e c t a s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l among h i s c o u n t r y m e n . 190 CHAPTER I V : FOOTNOTES F o r t h e e l a b o r a t i o n o f t h i s p u r p o s e i n t h e s o n n e t s appended t o L e s T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e , see b e l o w p p . 1 8 3 - 1 8 4 . 2 S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 5 7 - 5 8 , and S e c r e t , "De q u e l q u e s c o u r a n t s p r o p h e t i q u e s , " p . 3 , n o t e s t h a t L a B o d e r i e had t w i c e t r i e d t o i n t r o d u c e t o C h a r l e s IX a man who had come t o P a r i s t o announce t h e a p p e a r a n c e o f t h e comet. C f . S e c r e t , "De q u e l q u e s c o u r a n t s p r o p h e t i q u e s , " p p . 2 - 6 , and F r a n c o i s S e c r e t , " C o r n e l i u s Gemma e t l a p r o p h e t i e de l a S i b y l l e T i b u r t i n e , " Revue d ' H i s t o i r e E c c l e s i a s t i q u e , L X I V , n . 2 ( 1 9 6 9 ) , p p . 4 2 3 - 4 3 1 . C o r n e l i u s Gemma a p p e a r s i n L a B o d e r i e ' s hommage t o m a t h e m a t i c i a n s i n t h e Second C i r c l e o f t h e G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 2 . L a B o d e r i e t r a n s l a t e d two o f h i s L a t i n poems: "De l ' h y m e n e e de 1'amour d i v i n e e t de P s y c h e . A l a pensee o u v r i e r e des c h o s e s de l ' u n i v e r s , " Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 2 5 8 v , and " S u r l a s p h e r e des r e v o l u t i o n s de N . C o p e r n i c , " D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 7 1 v . 4 F o r a summary o f P o s t e l ' s p r o p h e c i e s w i t h r e g a r d t o t h e comet and f o r an a c c o u n t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s d i s s e m i n a t i o n o f t h o s e p r o p h e c i e s , see S e c r e t , "De q u e l q u e s c o u r a n t s p r o p h e t i q u e s , " p p . 3 - 1 3 , and S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 5 1 - 6 4 . ~* S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 5 8 , n o t e s t h a t P o s t e l " a v a i t empruntd 1 ' a d v e n t I n t r a nos a S a i n t B e r n a r d . " C f . t h e q u o t a t i o n f r o m P o s t e l i n S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 5 5 . ^ F o r s p e c u l a t i o n on L a B o d e r i e ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h t h e s e c t o f the F a m i l l e de l a C h a r i t e o f w h i c h D e s p r e z was a member, s e e S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 7 3 . g C h a r l e s I X , t h e f u t u r e H e n r y I I I , and L a B o d e r i e ' s p a t r o n t h e Due d ' A l e n c o n b e f o r e whom t h e " c a n t i q u e " was r e a d . 9 C f . t h e Book o f I s a i a h , X X X , v . 26: " M o r e o v e r t h e l i g h t o f t h e moon s h a l l be as t h e l i g h t o f t h e s u n , and t h e l i g h t o f t h e s u n s h a l l be s e v e n f o l d , as t h e l i g h t o f s e v e n d a y s , i n t h e day t h a t t h e L o r d b i n d e t h up t h e b r e a c h o f h i s p e o p l e , and h e a l e t h t h e s t r o k e o f t h e i r w o u n d . " F o r P o s t e l ' s use o f t h i s theme, s e e S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 1 5 5 - 1 5 6 . 191 F o r L a B o d e r i e ' s r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h Rene de V o y e r , whose f a t h e r was a p a t r o n o f men o f l e t t e r s and whose a n c e s t o r s were c r u s a d e r s , see S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 6 4 - 6 5 . 1 1 C f . b e l o w p . 192, n. 2 1 . S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 6 8 , n o t e s t h a t c o m p a r i s o n s between themes o f t h e K a b b a l a h and o f t h e K o r a n s u g g e s t e d b y L a B o d e r i e i n m a r g i n a l n o t e s were l a t e r d e v e l o p e d by B l a i s e de V i g e n e r e . 12 F o r a b r i e f s t u d y o f t h i s F r a n c i s c a n K a b b a l i s t f r o m V e n i c e , see S e c r e t , K a b b a l i s t e s C h r e t i e n s , p p . 1 2 6 - 1 4 0 . F o r a s t u d y o f t h e ' m a n y o b s c u r e and a m b i t i o u s s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y t r e a t i s e s on w o r l d harmony and on t h e s y m b o l i c a l c o m b i n a t i o n s d e r i v e d f r o m t h e r e l a t e d c o n c e p t s , see E . G a r i n , L a F i l o s o f i a ( M i l a n o : V a l l a r d i , 1 9 4 7 ) , v o l . I I , c h . 3 . 13 M a r e n - S o f i e R t ^ s t v i g , " A r s a e t e r n a : R e n a i s s a n c e P o e t i c s and T h e o r i e s o f D i v i n e C r e a t i o n , " M o s a i c , I I I , n o . 2 ( W i n t e r 1 9 7 0 ) , p . 5 9 . 14 F o r an a n a l y s i s o f t h e h i s t o r i c a l d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e C h r i s t i a n i d e a o f h a r m o n y , s e e S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 1 9 - 6 3 . He s t a t e s , p . 4 0 : "whereas t h e S t o i c s ( l i k e H e r a c l i t u s ) had t h o u g h t o f harmony as f o r c i n g t o g e t h e r the i n i m i c a l c o n c o r d i a d i s c o r s , A u g u s t i n e has i n mind r a t h e r t h e a b i l i t y o f harmony t o smooth o u t a p p a r e n t d i s c o r d — a s t h e ' i n n e r e a r ' o f t h e b e l i e v e r h e a r s t h e u n i t y u n d e r l y i n g d i v e r s i t y [ d i s c o r d i a c o n c o r s ] . " R£>stvig, " A r s a e t e r n a , " p . 5 8 . 16 F o r an i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h i s H e r m e t i c d o c t r i n e as a method f o r l i t e r a r y c o m p o s i t i o n as w e l l as a m e t a p h y s i c a l t e n e t , s e e W i l l i a m Y o r k T i n d a l l , The L i t e r a r y Symbol ( B l o o m i n g t o n , I n d . : I n d i a n a U n i v e r s i t y P r e s s , 1967, c l 9 5 5 ) , p p . 5 1 - 5 3 . 1 7 F o r a d e t a i l e d a n a l y s i s o f t h e h i s t o r i c a l d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h i s c o n c e p t , see E r i c h A u e r b a c h , " F i g u r a , " i n h i s Scenes f r o m t h e Drama o f E u r o p e a n L i t e r a t u r e (New Y o r k : M e r i d i a n , 1 9 5 9 ) , p p . 1 1 - 7 6 . 18 F o r t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e number f o u r i n P y t h a g o r e a n and P l a t o n i c as w e l l as i n C h r i s t i a n t h o u g h t w i t h r e g a r d t o man's temperament, see S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n Ideas o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 6 4 - 7 5 . 19 S p i t z e r , i b i d . , p . 2 0 , r e c o g n i z e s t h e A u g u s t i a n i a n b a s i s o f t h i s c o n c e p t . 192 20 F o r a b r i e f r e f e r e n c e t o t h e J e w i s h b e l i e f i n t h e p r i m a c y o f t h e human v o i c e f o r m u s i c a l g l o r i f i c a t i o n o f G o d , see A l b e r t S e a y , M u s i c i n t h e M e d i e v a l W o r l d ( E n g l e w o o d C l i f f s , N . J . : P r e n t i c e H a l l , 1 9 6 5 ) , p p . 8 - 1 1 . 21 E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 7 5 - 7 9 . 22 C f . L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f F i c i n o ' s De l a r e l i g i o n c h r e s t i e n n e , p p . 2 9 3 , 1 7 1 , 1 6 0 , 3 2 9 . See a l s o above p p . 1 6 8 - 1 6 9 . 23 C f . W i n d , Pagan M y s t e r i e s , p p . 25 f f . 24 , Harangue de l a d i g n i t y de 1 homme, p p . 3 8 1 , 39 7 - 3 9 9 . 25 See above p . 1 0 5 . 26 See t h e d e d i c a t i o n t o L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f F i c i n o ' s L e s T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e . The M a r g u e r i t e i n q u e s t i o n i s t h e w i f e o f t h e f u t u r e H e n r y IV o f F r a n c e . She was a r e m a r k a b l y l e a r n e d woman o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e w h o , w i t h Madame de R e t z , was one o f t h e few women a d m i t t e d t o t h e P a l a c e Academy o f H e n r y I I I . See Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p . 3 3 . The e x a c t i t u d e o f L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f F i c i n o ' s De amore has b e e n p r a i s e d by A . - J . F e s t u g i e r e , L a P h i l o s o p h i e de 1'amour de M a r s i l e F i c i n e t s o n i n f l u e n c e s u r l a l i t t e r a t u r e f r a n c a i s e au X V I e s i e c l e ^ E t u d e s de p h i l o s o p h i e m e d i e v a l e , 3 1 ( P a r i s : V r i n , 1 9 4 1 ) , p . 2 8 . 27 F o r t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p o f t h e s e themes w i t h P o s t e l ' s w o r k s , s e e S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 8 5 - 8 9 . 28 S e c r e t , l o c . c i t . , q u o t e s a t e x t by M a r g u e r i t e w h i c h s u g g e s t s h e r a c q u a i n t a n c e w i t h t h e E n c y c l i e . 29 F o r t h e h i s t o r i c a l b a s e s and t h e a p p l i c a t i o n s o f t h i s theme, s e e S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 5 - 1 8 . C f . a l s o L a B o d e r i e ' s d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h i s theme i n a " D i s c o u r s " t o t h e Due d ' A l e n c o n i n h i s E n c y c l i e , p p . 2 1 9 - 2 2 0 , i n w h i c h m u s i c i s s a i d t o make " p a r bonne r e s o n n a n c e / Le Sens e t l a R a i s o n t o u s deus d ' u n e a c c o r d a n c e . . . . / P a r l a M u s i q u e on p e u t s a f u r e u r a p a i s e r . . . . / A i n s i D a v i d e n c o r p a r d i v i n e h a r m o n i e / A p p a i s o i t t o u t s o u d a i n de S a u l l a m a n i e . " See above p p . 1 4 6 - 1 4 7 . 193 31 See S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 5 5 . S e c r e t , i b i d . , p . 5 2 , n o t e s a l s o a m a r g i n a l n o t e t o t h e t r a n s l a t i o n i t s e l f w h i c h i d e n t i f i e s F i c i n o ' s " s p i r i t u a l man" w i t h t h e " s p i r i t u a l b o d y " c e n t r a l t o P o s t e l ' s theme o f man's s u b s t a n t i a l p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n C h r i s t t h e A r c h e t y p e t o whose " s e u l e E s s e n c e " man i s t o be r e s t i t u t e d . 32 R i c h e r , N e r v a l , p . 5 3 3 . 33 See above p p . 1 9 , 2 3 . 34 B u s s o n , R a t i o n a l i s m e , p . 5 8 8 ; Z a n t a , R e n a i s s a n c e du s t o i c i s m e , p p . 1 2 9 , 1 3 2 - 1 3 3 ; S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 5 4 . 35 Quoted i n S e c r e t , "De q u e l q u e s c o u r a n t s p r o p h g t i q u e s , " p . 1 1 . 3 6 L a B o d e r i e r e p e a t e d l y u s e s t h e C i c e r o n i a n t e r m " c o n v e n a n c e " f o r " h a r m o n y " i n h i s t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e H a r m o n i e du monde. C f . S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 1 5 , 1 8 - 1 9 . 37 The t r a n s l a t i o n a p p e a r e d o r i g i n a l l y as volume f i v e o f t h e P o l y g l o t B i b l e o f A n t w e r p , 1 5 7 1 . S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p . 1 5 7 , makes t h e p o i n t t h a t i t was r e p u b l i s h e d i n 1584 as p a r t o f a p r o p o s e d more c o m p l e t e p o l y g l o t B i b l e o f P a r i s . 38 Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p . 1 6 0 . 39 See above p p . 162 f f . 40 See above p . 1 9 1 , n . 1 7 . 41 C f . S e c r e t , "De q u e l q u e s c o u r a n t s p r o p h e t i q u e s , " p a s s i m . 42 See above p p . 1 0 4 - 1 0 5 . 43 F o r t h e p r e d o m i n a n c e o f t h i s P o s t e l l i a n theme i n L a B o d e r i e , s e e S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p p . 1 5 6 - 1 6 2 . 194 CHAPTER V IMAGERY A s t u d y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c t e c h n i q u e l i k e t h a t o f t h e c o n t e n t o f h i s p o e t i c p r o d u c t i o n r e v e a l s h i s c l o s e a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h t h e f i f t e e n t h c e n t u r y F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s y n c r e t i s t t r a d i t i o n c o l o u r e d b y a s y m b o l i s m d e r i v e d l a r g e l y f r o m t h e K a b b a l i s t i c c u r r e n t o f t h a t t r a d i t i o n . H i s use o f i m a g e r y i s c o n s i s t e n t w i t h t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t c o n c e p t o f t h e v i s u a l image as embodiment o f e s s e n c e . 1 H i s c o n c e r n f o r t h e a l l i a n c e o f p o e t r y and m u s i c as e m u l a t i o n o f d i v i n e harmony i s r e l a t e d t o N e o - P l a t o n i s t e l a b o r a t i o n o f the t r a d i t i o n o f 2 a r t i s t i c c r e a t i o n as a r e f l e c t i o n o f d i v i n e c r e a t i o n . I n a l l , t h e c o n t r o l l i n g m o t i v a t i o n i s L a B o d e r i e ' s c o n c e p t o f t h e r o l e o f t h e p o e t as m e d i a t o r o f t h e d i v i n e w i l l e x p r e s s e d i n u n i v e r s a l harmony and t h e c o r o l l a r y o f r e g e n e r a t i o n o f man and h i s r e t u r n f r o m m u l t i p l i c i t y t h r o u g h harmony t o t h e e t e r n a l U n i t y . A j u s t a p p r e c i a t i o n o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c a c h i e v e m e n t must be b a s e d on an a c c e p t a n c e o f R e n a i s s a n c e a r t i s t i c t h e o r y r e l a t e d t o 195 t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t t r a d i t i o n . A n a l y s i s o f r e p r e s e n t a t i v e images s e l e c t e d f r o m h i s m a j o r w o r k s c a n be f r u i t f u l o n l y i f c a r r i e d o u t i n t h e l i g h t o f what Tuve has d e s i g n a t e d as t h e i r " c a u s e , " t h a t i s t o 4 say t h e p o e t ' s s u b j e c t and i n t e n t i o n . L a B o d e r i e ' s avowed p o e t i c i n t e n t i o n , o f t e n r e p e a t e d , was t o " p r o f i t e r au p e u p l e de F r a n c e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 8 ) . As a C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n a p o l o g i s t h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e H o r a t i a n u t i l e d u l c i added a r e l i g i o u s d i r e c t i o n t o t h e P l e i a d e ' s c o n c e p t o f u s e f u l n e s s as s e r i o u s i n t e l l e c t u a l c o n t e n t , so t h a t , as Cave p o i n t s o u t f o r t h e s e r i o u s v e r s e o f the l a t e s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y i n F r a n c e , " ' p r o f i t ' now meant o r t h o d o x i n s t r u c t i o n and t h e s t a m p i n g o u t o f h e r e s y and ' p a g a n i s m . ' " " ' Two b a s i c o r i e n t a t i o n s i n f o r m L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c . p r e s e n t a t i o n o f h i s r e l i g i o u s s u b j e c t s . One i s t h e c o n c e p t o f t r u t h v e i l e d by images w h i c h t h e p o e t , " d o c t e e t v e r t u e u x , " i s c a l l e d t o d i s c l o s e t h r o u g h h i s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t r u e s y m b o l s . ^ The s e c o n d o r i e n t a t i o n i s t o t h e e s t h e t i c u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f c r e a t i o n as h a r m o n i o u s s t r u c t u r e , as o r d e r and p r o p o r t i o n r e v e a l i n g d i v i n e p e r f e c t i o n w h i c h c a n be apprehended i n terms o f m a t h e m a t i c a l images and e m u l a t e d by t h e p o e t - m u s i c i a n as w e l l as by t h e a r c h i t e c t . I n s h o r t , f u n d a m e n t a l t o a l l L a B o d e r i e ' s work i s t h e d e s i r e t o u s e t h e e f f e c t s o f p o e t r y and m u s i c i n o r d e r t o l e a d h i s c o m p a t r i o t s t o a r e g e n e r a t i o n o f a p r i m a l c l a r i t y o f v i s i o n . 7 The means t o t h a t end a r e t h e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f " t r u e " s y m b o l s drawn f r o m t h e v e i l e d r e v e l a t i o n s o f t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i and t h e e m u l a t i o n o f d i v i n e c r e a t i o n i n m a t h e m a t i c o - m u s i c a l h a r m o n i e s . 196 W r i t i n g i n a l a t e r age and w i t h a d i f f e r e n t p u r p o s e f r o m t h e g p o e t s o f t h e P l e i a d e , L a B o d e r i e ' s d i d a c t i c c o n c e r n f o r " s i g n i f i c a n c y " marks h i s r e j e c t i o n o f sensuous p a r t i c u l a r i t y p r i z e d b y R o n s a r d i n f a v o u r o f a s u g g e s t i v e n e s s w h i c h a t t e m p t s t o convey t h e r e a l i t y o f t h e i n v i s i b l e . I t marks a l s o h i s use o f p u b l i c symbols r e l a t e d t o r e l i g i o u s t r a d i t i o n as w e l l as h i s use o f t h e g r e a t e l e m e n t a l t r o p e s o f L o v e : F l a m e , E v i l : D a r k n e s s , L i f e : V o y a g e and F o r m : M a s c u l i n e . I n t h e same c o n t e x t o f t h e p o e t ' s a c c e p t a n c e o f r e s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r f i g u r i n g f o r t h a u n i v e r s a l r e a s o n a b l e o r d e r even c o n c r e t e i m a g e r y assumes a s y m b o l i c 9 r a t h e r t h a n a m e t a p h o r i c p o w e r . S i m i l a r l y , t h e p o e t ' s a t t e m p t t o p o r t r a y u n i v e r s a l s , as f o r example t h r o u g h t h e m a n i f e s t a t i o n s i m p l i c i t i n H e r m e t i c c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s , demands an a c c e p t a n c e o f images as s y m b o l s . " ^ I n L a B o d e r i e ' s work t h e means f o r p e r s u a d i n g and m o v i n g t h e r e a d e r i n a c c o r d w i t h t h e p o e t ' s d i d a c t i c p u r p o s e i n c l u d e an u n h e s i t a t i n g use o f o v e r t s t a t e m e n t t o e x p l a i n t h e s y m b o l i c v a l u e o f i m a g e r y , an o c c a s i o n a l r h y t h m i c a l h e i g h t e n i n g , and above a l l a use o f t h e i m a g e - s y m b o l s w h i c h he c o n s i d e r e d most a p p r o p r i a t e t o an i n t i m a t i o n o f u n i v e r s a l t r u t h s . L a B o d e r i e ' s " C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m " " ' " " ' " i s l y r i c a l n o t i n t h e modern s e n s e o f c o n v e y i n g p e r s o n a l e m o t i o n , b u t i n a R e n a i s s a n c e s e n s e d e s c r i b e d by Tuve as a s i n c e r e t r a n s m i s s i o n o f e x t r a - p e r s o n a l t r u t h d i v i n e l y r e v e a l e d t o t h e i n s p i r e d p o e t and p r e s e n t e d b y h i m w i t h t h e 12 a r t i f i c e o f p o e t r y i n o r d e r t o move t h e a f f e c t i o n s . I t i s an o r d e r i n g o f t h e w o r l d t h r o u g h l a n g u a g e a n a l o g o u s t o the A u g u s t i n i a n c o n c e p t o f t h e w o r l d i t s e l f as G o d ' s poem. S i n c e i n o u r s t u d y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p o e t i c t e c h n i q u e t h e terms 19 7 " s y m b o l , " " m e t a p h o r " and " a l l e g o r y " i n e v i t a b l y a p p e a r a g a i n and a g a i n i t i s n e c e s s a r y t o i n d i c a t e c l e a r l y t h e e x a c t meaning o f t h e s e terms f o r R e n a i s s a n c e p o e t s . The i n a p p l i c a b i l i t y o f t h e modern c o n c e p t o f i m a g e r y and s y m b o l i s m as e x p r e s s i o n s o f p e r s o n a l t h o u g h t and f e e l i n g has b e e n 13 u n d e r s c o r e d by many s c h o l a r s . A r h e t o r i c a l p u r p o s e c o m p a r a b l e t o 14 L a B o d e r i e ' s has b e e n s e e n as t h e b a s i s o f much R e n a i s s a n c e p o e t i c . T h a t p u r p o s e p r e s u p p o s e s t h e c h o i c e o f i m a g e r y c o m p r e h e n s i b l e t o t h e p o e t ' s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s a n d , a c c o r d i n g t o L a B o d e r i e ' s v i e w , a c c e p t a b l e t o them as t r u l y p r e s e n t i n g t h e r e a l i t y o f t h e i n v i s i b l e . P e r s o n a l s y m b o l i s m , l i k e t h e c o m p a r i s o n s o f m e t a p h o r , i s s u p e r s e d e d by t h e " e s s e n t i a l " s y m b o l i s m v o u c h s a f e d t o t h e i n s p i r e d p o e t . As a f o l l o w e r o f t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s , L a B o d e r i e a s c r i b e s t o t h e images o f t h e e s o t e r i c t r a d i t i o n an " i n h e r e n t and e s s e n t i a l s y m b o l i s m , " a c c o r d i n g t o G o m b r i c h ' s p h r a s e , a p p l y i n g a " c o d o f e q u i v a l e n c e w h i c h p e r t a i n s bet w een s e n s i b l e and s u p r a - s e n s i b l e e n t i t i e s . " " ' " " ' He e l a b o r a t e s images s u g g e s t e d b y G o m b r i c h as p a r t o f t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s i m a g e r y s u c h as t h e K a b b a l i s t i c T a b e r n a c l e o r C a n d e l a b r a drawn d i r e c t l y f r o m t h e e s o t e r i c t r a d i t i o n , f i g u r a e s u c h as t h e p e l i c a n o r t h e p e a r l . f r o m C h r i s t i a n t y p o l o g y , t h e names o f God f r o m t h e K a b b a l i s t i c t r a d i t i o n , and n u m e r i c a l s y m b o l i s m a s s o c i a t e d w i t h m u s i c a l h a r m o n i e s f r o m t h e K a b b a l i s t i c , P y t h a g o r e a n and P l a t o n i c t r a d i t i o n s . D i s t i n c t f r o m L a B o d e r i e ' s c u s t o m a r y use o f images as s y m b o l 198 t h e t r u e embodiments o f e s s e n t i a l t r u t h s , i s h i s u s e o f images as s i m p l e s u b s t i t u t e s f o r what t h e y r e p r e s e n t i n t h e c o n t i n u e d metaphor o f a l l e g o r y . The " E p i s t r e d e d i c a t o i r e " o f t h e E n c y c l i e ( p p . 1 0 - 1 4 ) , f o r e x a m p l e , d e v e l o p s t h e a l l e g o r y o f t h e w o r l d as a s e a on w h i c h man's s h i p i s t o s s e d b y t h e w i n d s o f S a t a n , " l ' A q u i l o n a i r e , " u n t i l he l e a r n s t o f o l l o w " l ' E g u i l l e de l a F o y " t o t h e p o r t o f p a r a d i s e , " l e s t a b l e P o l e . " rS u c h a l l e g o r y , a l t h o u g h u s e d f o r t h e same p e r s u a s i v e and d i d a c t i c p u r p o s e , l a c k s t h e m o v i n g power o f L a B o d e r i e ' s s y m b o l i c p a s s a g e s . Such u s e o f a l l e g o r y i l l u s t r a t e s L a B o d e r i e ' s dependence on m e d i e v a l f o r m s , a dependence w h i c h i s e v i d e n t more i n h i s v e r s i f i c a t i o n t h a n i n h i s c u s t o m a r y use o f i m a g e r y . The f o l l o w i n g c o n s i d e r a t i o n o f r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s y m b o l i c images p r o p o s e s t o i l l u s t r a t e s o m e t h i n g o f t h e q u a l i t y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s r e a l p o e t i c a c h i e v e m e n t . I n t h e s y m b o l o f t h e c i r c l e L a B o d e r i e saw t h e p e r f e c t i o n o f G o d , o f d i v i n e c r e a t i o n and o f d i v i n e w i l l . H i s own i n t i m a t e v i s i o n o f c i r c u l a r p e r f e c t i o n i s s u g g e s t e d by t h e anagram o f h i s name: " U n C e r c l e e n t r e l e s p l a n s e s t ma FIGURE E L U E " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 2 0 0 ) . H i s c o n v i c t i o n o f t h e c i r c l e ' s e s s e n t i a l s i g n i f i c a n c e as t h e p r i m a r y f o r m a t i v e p r i n c i p l e i s i n d i c a t e d by h i s a r r a n g e m e n t o f h i s two m a j o r w o r k s i n " C i r c l e s . " F u r t h e r m o r e , f r o m t h e c i r c l e d e r i v e t h e p o e t ' s p e r v a s i v e s y m b o l i s m o f t h e s u n w i t h i t s f o r m - g i v i n g l i g h t and c r e a t i v e f i r e , and o f t h e e y e , as w e l l as t h e a s s o c i a t e d images o f t h e m i r r o r 199 and o f t h e moon and h i s f r e q u e n t d i a l e c t i c o f l i g h t and d a r k . T h i s c o m p o s i t e o f s y m b o l s d e r i v e s l a r g e l y f r o m F i c i n i a n N e o - P l a t o n i s m w i t h i t s i n c o r p o r a t i o n o f O r p h i c m y s t e r i e s . 1 7 W i t h v a r y i n g d e g r e e s o f s u c c e s s L a B o d e r i e u s e d t h e s e s y m b o l s as F i c i n o u s e d t h e h i e r o g l y p h ^ a r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e u n r e p r e s e n t a b l e , t h a t i s t o s a y as a means t o an i n t u i t i v e knowledge s u p e r i o r e v e n t o t h a t o f t h e c o n c e p t u a l i z i n g i n t e l l e c t , as an i n s t r u m e n t o f c o n t e m p l a t i o n as 18 w e l l as a s p u r t o t r a n s c e n d c o n t e m p l a t i o n . The f o l l o w i n g b r i e f i n d i c a t i o n o f t h e s i g n i f i c a n c e o f t h e s e r e l a t e d images p r e c e d e s an i l l u s t r a t i o n o f t h e i r f u s i o n i n a p a s s a g e s e l e c t e d f r o m t h e E n c y c l i e . D i v i n e p e r f e c t i o n i s m a n i f e s t i n t h e cosmos i n t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t n o t i o n o f t h e e s t h e t i c p e r f e c t i o n o f c i r c u l a r f o r m w h i c h i s h e l d t o be 19 p r i m a l and u n i q u e , i n c a p a b l e o f a u g m e n t a t i o n o f d i m i n i s h m e n t . C i r c u l a r u n i t y r e c a l l s a l s o t h e C h r i s t i a n d e v o t i o n a l image o f t h e crown o f t h o r n s a s s i m i l a t e d t o t h e K a b b a l i s t i c " K e t h e r " o r c r o w n , t h e h i g h e s t e m a n a t i o n o f t h e d i v i n i t y : . . . c e r c l e i n f i n y de l a D i v i n i t e : Oil d ' E h i e h ["nom supreme de D i e u " ] l a c o u r o n n e en supreme u n i t e " A de 1 'humanite" l a t e s t e e n v i r o n n e e L a q u e l l e a v o i t este" d ' e s p i n e s c o u r o n n e e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 9 1 V ) Cosmic c y c l i c a l o r d e r i n g and i n t e r i o r r e v o l u t i o n s show f o r t h t h e r e g u l a r i t y and u n i f i e d s e l f - s u f f i c i e n c y o f the d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e , as a l s o t h e d i v i n e p e r m e a t i o n o f t h e u n i v e r s e a n a l o g o u s t o t h e e x p a n d i n g 20 c i r c l e s o f w a t e r o r sound waves d e s c r i b e d by t h e t e r m " e n c y c l i e " , 200 God c a n t h u s be l i k e n e d t o a f o u n t a i n " a u s o u r g e o n e t e r n e l " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 79) and a p p r e h e n d e d i n t h e h i g h e s t K a b b a l i s t i c S e p h i r a , t h e c r o w n , s o u r c e o f a l l wisdom and a s s i m i l a t e d t o C h r i s t t h e L o g o s : Comme de l ' i n f i n i de l a Coronne r o n d e D e c o u l e l a S a g e s s e . . . 2^ ( G a l l i a d e , p r e l i m i n a r y s o n n e t 8) Cosmic c i r c u l a r movement s u g g e s t s a l s o t h e c y c l i c a l h i s t o r y o f t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s f i g u r e d b y t h e s e r p e n t b i t i n g i t s t a i l ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 ) and above a l l t h e p r i n c i p l e o f r e b i r t h and r e n e w a l i n L a B o d e r i e ' s " t h e o l o g i e r e v o l u t i v e " : . . . 6 des Ames l ' A y m a n t Q u i l e s s o u f f l e s aus c o r p s , p u i s l e s v a s rehumant En t o n s e i n E t e r n e l , ou t a P a r o l l e r o u l e , Q u i e s t l ' o u t i l m o u v a n t , e t du Monde l e M o u l e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 114) Tout ce q u i e s t cy b a s , au C i e l e t s u r l e monde S u i t l e Rond a c c o m p l y , du g r a n d D i e u commencant Le C e n t r e de Bonte", e t en D i e u f i n i s s a n t , D u q u e l 1 ' I n f i n i t e ! e s t une S f e r e r o n d e . ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 82 ) The image o f t h e i n f i n i t e c i r c l e i s , f i n a l l y , t h e f o r e m o s t s y m b o l o f G o d : "0 non e n c e r c l e C e r c l e e n c e r c l a n t l ' E n c y c l i e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 1 8 ) . God e n v i s i o n e d as c e n t r e and c i r c u m f e r e n c e o f a n i n f i n i t e c i r c l e i s s y m b o l i z e d by the s u n t o show h i s dynamic and v i t a l i z i n g m e t a p h y s i c a l r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h t h e u n i v e r s e , and a l s o t o show t h e a n a l o g o u s p r i v i l e g e d p l a c e o f t h e s o u l o f man, o f w h i c h He i s t h e i l l u m i n a t i n g " R a i s o n des r a i s o n s . " Comme l e beau S o l e i l s e u l ornement des C i e u x Quoy q u ' i l s o i t un en s o y , t o u t e s f o i s a l a r o n d e Epand s e s r a i z d o r e z p o u r i l l u s t r e r l e monde E t f a i t v i v r e l e j o u r q u i f a i t v i v r e l e s y e u x . ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 79 ) 201 Le g r a n d f l a m b e a u des C i e u x q u i en t o u t e s a i s o n T o u r n o y e n t t o u t l e r o n d en c o n t i n u a f f a i r e I l l u m i n e t o u s j o u r s l a m o y t i e de l a S f e r e Quand i l monte ou d e s c e n d l ' u n ou 1 ' a u t r e O r i s o n : E s t f i g u r e du j o u r que donne l a R a i s o n L a R a i s o n des r a i s o n s e t e r n e l l e e t p r e m i e r e S o u r g e o n i n e p u i s e de s p l e n d e u r e t l u m i e r e Q u i des E s p r i t s l u i s a n s t i r e l a l i a i s o n . ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 87 ) I n h i s m a j o r w o r k s L a B o d e r i e d e v e l o p s r e p e a t e d l y t h e two f i g u r e s o f l i g h t and o f t h e eye s u g g e s t e d i n t h e above s o n n e t s . L i g h t i s t h e supreme p r i n c i p l e o f f o r m , t h e d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e i n c a r n a t e i n t h e W o r d : 0 S a g e s s e ! 6 V e r t u q u ' e n s i l e n c e j ' a p p e l l e ! 0 L u m i e r e ! o B e a u t e des b e a u t e s l a p l u s b e l l e Q u i f u t oncques f o r m e e ! 6 V i e ! o V e r i t e ! 0 l a p r e m i e r e V o i s de l a D i v i n i t e ! ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 120-121) The muse U r a n i e , so i m p o r t a n t t o L a B o d e r i e as c e l e s t i a l messenger and i n s p i r a t i o n , i r r a d i a t e s t h e l i g h t n o t o f human b u t o f d i v i n e R e a s o n , " l u m i e r e A r c h e d i v i n e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 2 5 ) . The d i v i n e e s s e n c e o f man p a r t a k e s o f t h a t d i v i n e " P e n s e e " i n o r d e r t o " c o m p o s e " h i s w o r l d i n harmony w i t h d i v i n e c r e a t i o n f o r " l ' A m e a l l u m e l e s t r a i s des s e n s " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 4 9 ) . A d i a l e c t i c i s e s t a b l i s h e d i n w h i c h images o f d a r k n e s s r e p r e s e n t a r e m o v a l f r o m G o d ' s g r a c e t o " l ' h o r r e u r n u i t a l l e " ( E n c y c l i e j p . 14) o r f r o m p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n wisdom e q u a t e d w i t h v i r t u e t o " l e m o n s t r e t e n e b r e u x de l ' a v e u g l e I g n o r a n c e " ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 1 V ) . The u n t r u s t w o r t h y m a t e r i a l s e n s e s a r e a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e b l a c k crow who n e v e r r e t u r n e d t o N o a h , and opposed t o t h e r e s p l e n d e n t dove whose c e l e s t i a l l y i n s p i r e d message t h e p o e t d e s i r e s : 202 . . . l a i s s a n t l e C o r b e a u Du sens ombreus e t n o i r . . . . . . Colombe d ' a i l e r o n s a r g e n t e z T r e s l u i s a n s d ' o r b r u n i . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 151) L i g h t i s t h e image o f t h e h i g h e s t i n t u i t i v e v i s i o n , t h a t " R e s p l e n d e u r " w h i c h i n t h e N e o - P l a t o n i c m e t a p h y s i c s r e p r e s e n t s a c l e a r v i s i o n o f 23 u l t i m a t e r e a l i t y . Such a v i s i o n i m p l i e s an u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f t h e u n i v e r s e as an e s t h e t i c a l l y p e r f e c t s y n e s t h e t i c l u m i n o u s harmony: 0 C o n n o i s s a n c e s a i n t e , Ame p l e i n e d ' a r d e u r Q u i emprunte de soy s a l u m i e r e e t s p l e n d e u r , P a r t o y c h a n t a n t i c y l a l u m i e r e e n t e n d i b l e Mon c o e u r t r e s s a u t e , e t s e n t une j o y e i n d i c i b l e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 5 r ) 2 4 L i k e t h e images r e l a t e d to l i g h t , t h o s e o f t h e eye i n d i c a t e a N e o - P l a t o n i s t and O r p h i c mode o f v i s i o n . C h a s t e l has n o t e d t h a t F i c i n o , e x p r e s s i n g t h e " m y s t e r e ' o r p h i q u e ' p a r e x c e l l e n c e , " w r o t e o f t h e s u n as " l ' o e i l v i v a n t du c i e l : " " D i e u e s t c e t o e i l p a r l e q u e l v o i e n t t o u s l e s y e u x e t , s e l o n l e mot d ' O r p h d e , l ' o e i l q u i v o i t t o u t 25 en chaque o b j e c t , e t v e r i t a b l e m e n t a p e r c o i t t o u t e s c h o s e s en l u i - m e m e . " As t h e s u n ' s l u m i n o u s r a y s a r e t h e p r i n c i p l e o f G o d ' s m a n i f e s t a t i o n i n t h e u n i v e r s e , so t h e l i g h t o f v i s i o n w h i c h r e f l e c t s t h e s u n becomes t h e v e r y s y m b o l o f the d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e . Thus L a B o d e r i e g l o r i f i e s " l e S o l e i l , l e s e u l - O e i l q u i t o u t l e monde e s c l a i r e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 101) as he p r a i s e s " l u y q u i meut l e s C i e u x , e t l a N a t u r e c r e e : / C ' e s t l ' o e i l de l a P e n s e e . . . " ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 105 ) and t h e e n l i g h t e n e d v i s i o n o f " R a i s o n . . . l ' o e i l des E s p r i s " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 6 4 ) . An i m i t a t i o n o f O r p h i c v e r s e f r o m P o r p h y r y e q u a t e s t h e 203 r e f l e c t e d l u m i n o s i t y o f t h e moon t o the power o f t h e s u n : M a i s Phebus r e l u i s a n t d ' u n r a y o n t r e s a r d e n t , E t l a Lune e m p r u n t a n t s a c o u l e u r l u m i n e u s e Du S o l e i l , s o n t l e s y e u x . . . ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 107 ) Thus t h e moon as " A d o n a i , " one o f t h e a s p e c t s o f t h e t e n t h K a b b a l i s t i c S e p h i r a , becomes a t t h e same t i m e a s y m b o l f o r C h r i s t t h e M e d i a t o r and t h e A r c h e t y p e , " O e i l moyenneur . . . Lune e x e m p l a i r e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 1 4 ) . A g a i n t h e e q u a t i o n o f f o r m a t i v e l i g h t and o r d e r e d s t r u c t u r e s u g g e s t s t h e a n a l o g y o f r e f l e c t i n g m i r r o r s and t h e harmony o f a t t u n e d i n s t r u m e n t s . The moon's r e f l e c t i v e power s u g g e s t s f u r t h e r t h e a n a l o g y w i t h t h e human s p i r i t d i v i n e l y i n f u s e d so t h a t " l e s r a i s de v e r i t e " a r e r e c o g n i z e d n o t o n l y i n t h e A r c h e t y p e b u t a l s o i n t h e r e f l e c t i v e " m i r o i r des E s p r i t s " ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 2 8 V ) . The eye o f s p i r i t u a l v i s i o n i s a m i r r o r whose r e f l e c t i v e power must be p r e s e r v e d f r o m d a r k s p o t t i n g c a u s e d by t h e " p o i s o n g l u e u s e " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 128) o f t h e f l e s h and c l e a n s e d b y p u r e C h r i s t i a n l o v e w h i c h a c h i e v e s i t s consommation i n " l ' E c s t a t i q u e m o r t " : A i n s i l e r o n d de l ' A m e e s t de l u m i e r e p l e i n , E t v a r e m i r e r D i e u j u s q u e s dedans s o n s e i n , E t p o u r y p a r v e n i r 1'Amour en e s t l a r e g i e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 130) A p p l i e d t o man, t h e image o f t h e moon draws n o t o n l y f r o m t h e O r p h i c i n c o n c e p t o f t h e m i r r o r i l l u s t r a t e d C h r i s t , " l ' O e i l m o y e n n e u r , " b u t a l s o f r o m t h e p h y s i c a l cosmos w h i c h , l i k e man, i s t o a g r e a t e r o r l e s s e r e x t e n t o b s c u r e d b y t h e d a r k n e s s o f m a t e r i a l b e i n g and t h e s e n s e s : Tout a i n s i que l a Lune e s t en soy m i - p a r t i e D ' o b s c u r , e t de c l a r t e . . . 204 . . . a i n s i e s t m i - p a r t i e De t o n Ame l e r o n d . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 126) A r i c h n e s s o f a s s o c i a t i o n i m p l i e d i n t h e above examples may be i l l u s t r a t e d by a p a s s a g e f r o m t h e E n c y c l i e i n w h i c h s c h o l a r l y e f f o r t s t o r e c o n c i l e t h e c o n t r a d i c t i o n s o f d i v e r s e r e l i g i o u s t r a d i t i o n s a r e g r a c e d by an i n t e r w e a v i n g o f images drawn f r o m t h o s e t r a d i t i o n s and f r o m c l a s s i c a l m y t h o l o g y . U r a n i e ' s i n v o c a t i o n goes beyond c r u d e p r a i s e o f G o d ' s w o r k s o r s i m p l e e x p o s i t i o n o f dogma t o a u s e o f i m a g e r y w h i c h i s a t once a p t and s u g g e s t i v e . The v i t a l i z i n g power o f t h e O r p h i c s u n - G o d i s i n v o k e d t h r o u g h t h e m e d i a t i o n o f a m o o n - C h r i s t whose r e f l e c t i v e power s u g g e s t s t h e m u s e - p o e t ' s c a p a c i t y t o r e c r e a t e t h e u n i v e r s e i n i m i t a t i o n o f t h e d i v i n e c r e a t o r and i n t u r n t o make o f h i s c r e a t i o n a f i t o f f e r i n g t o G o d . The c i r c u l a r movement t h u s c r e a t e d i s i n t u r n r e f l e c t i v e o f a u n i v e r s a l c y c l i c a l r e t u r n t o God and t h e K a b b a l i s t c o n c e p t o f c o n t i n u o u s c r e a t i o n f i g u r e d h e r e t h r o u g h C h r i s t t h e W o r d . I n t i m a t i o n s o f t h a t c r e a t i o n embrace m a n y . t r a d i t i o n s : t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t h i e r a r c h y , t h e H e b r a i c column o f f i r e and r a i n b o w , t h e P l a t o n i c two h o r s e s r e p r e s e n t i n g s p i r i t u a l and c a r n a l l o v e and t h e f i e r y c h a r i o t t r a v e r s i n g t r a n s p a r e n t c e l e s t i a l s p h e r e s , w h i c h , u n d e r t h e g u i d a n c e o f t h e i r p r e s i d i n g S i r e n s r e v o l v e i n a h e a v e n l y d a n c e , and f i n a l l y t h e c l a s s i c a l p e r s o n i f i c a t i o n o f F a t e . The s e n s u a l , t h e i n t e l l e c t u a l and t h e s p i r i t u a l n a t u r e s o f man a r e u n i t e d i n a summary r e s o l u t i o n i n w h i c h t h e a r t i f i c i a l " r h e t o r i q u e u r " s t y l e does n o t n e g a t e 205 t h e s i n c e r i t y o f t h e f i n a l i n v o c a t i o n t o t h e O r p h i c p r i n c i p l e o f c r e a t i v e E r o s r e p r e s e n t e d by a C h r i s t i a n t r i n i t y o f " l ' A m o u r , l ' A i m e ' , l ' A m a n t . " Toy done O e i l i n f i n i , t o y done S o l e i l immense E l a n c e dedans moy l e s r a i z de t a semence, Feconde mes e s p r i t s que j e p u i s s e e n f a n t e r Des V e r s conceus de t o y p o u r t e l e s p r e s e n t e r : P a r t o n O e i l m o y e n n e r , p a r l a Lune e x e m p l a i r e Q u i r o u l e d e s s o u s t o y , t e p l a i s t , e t t e f a i t p l a i r e Chasque E s t o i l l e d ' E s p r i t , s u r q u i p a r b o n e g a r d D ' I d e a l l e c l a r t e e l l e a s s i e d s o n r e g a r d : P a r c e s t e L u n e , d i - j e , a. t a S f e r e a l l i e e , E t q u i n ' a t a c h e en s o y , n i c o u l e u r p a l i e e A i n s q u i e s t T o u t e - b e l l e e t l u i s t sans d e c l i n e r , V u e i l l e , j e t e s u p p l i , mon G l o b e e n l u m i n e r . Que t r a n s m e t t r e j e p u i s s e e n l ' A m e r e g a r d e e Du S e c r e t a i r e m i e n t a l u m i e r e - d a r d e e , L u y l a r e f l e e t e e n moy, moy-meme de r e c h e f Aus Anges s u r m o n d a i n s , e t eus dedans l e u r C h e f . Doncques s ' i l t ' a b i e n p l e u , 3 des Ames l ' A y m a n t , Q u i l e s s o u f f l e s aus c o r p s , p u i s l e s v a s rehumant En t o n s e i n E t e r n e l , ou t a P a r o l l e r o u l e , Q u i e s t l ' O u t i l m o u v a n t , e t du Monde l e M o u l e : S ' i l t ' a p l e u d ' a t t i r e r p a r l e s O r d r e s r a n g e s T a n t des c o r p s composes, que des s i m p l e s c h a n g e s , Mon Ombre b a v o l a n t des l e c r e u s p r e c i p i c e Du t e r r e s t r e P l a n c h e r , j u s q u ' a u s i e g e p r o p i c e Du f e u A e t h e r i e n , q u i j a m a i s ne c r o u p i t , Ou N a t u r e c o u v a n t se n i c h e e t se t a p i t . L a q u e l l e j e v o y o i s de l o n g u e e t l o n g u e t r a i t e En C o l o n n e de f e u e s t e n d i i e e t p o r t r a i t e A i n s i que l ' A r c en c i e l , s i n o n que s a l u e u r P l u s s u b t i l e r e n d o i t b i e n p l u s grande r a y e u r : E t s ' i l t ' a p l e u e n c o r dedans un c h a r de f l a m e Me g u i n d e r , e t g u i d e r l ' I d o l e de mon Ame T i r e e a deus Chevaus c o n d u i t s de t o n f l a m b e a u (Dont l ' u n e s t o i t r e s t i f , e t 1 ' a u t r e b o n e t beau) D e p u i s l e bas d e g r e des S f e r e s e t o f e e s Du p l u s d u r D i a m a n t , p a r l e s danses des F e e s , J u s q u ' a u f u s e a u f a t a l , q u i e s t p i r o u e t t e H a u t e n t r e l e s genous d e l a N e c e s s i t e : L a q u e l l e s ' a f o u r c h a n t s u r l e f e s t e du Temple 206 T o u r n a s s e s o n F u s e a u , q u ' e l l e v o i d e t c o n t e m p l e L e s C e r c l e s t r a v e r s e r du b o u t d y a m a n t i n , E t t i r e r en u n f i l l e s t r o i s temps du D e s t i n . Te p l a i s e a c e s t e f o i s en s i c l a i r e e v i d e n c e H a u t e me s u b l i m e r j u s q u ' a t a P r o v i d e n c e , Que me v o y e en un temps tendiie a t r o i s t e n d o n s , E t m ' e n c o r d a n t c o r d e r ma c o r d e aus t r o i s c o r d o n s : De p a r mon Ombre au c h e f de N a t u r e l i e e , De mon I d o l e au c h e f du D e s t i n a l l i e e , De ma Pensee a t o y , 6 des Ames l ' A y m a n t , M o t e u r m o u v a n t , n o n - m e u , l ' A m o u r , l ' A i m e , l ' A m a n t . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 113-115) I n t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t t r a d i t i o n , t h e power o f images t o move t h e p o e t ' s a u d i e n c e was a l l i e d t o t h a t o f m u s i c a l h a r m o n i e s r e f l e c t i n g 26 a h e a v e n l y h a r m o n y . Orpheus i s a g a i n t h e p r e e m i n e n t example o f t h e p o e t - p r i e s t and m u s i c i a n i m i t a t i n g t h e h a r m o n i e s o f God the supreme a r t i f e x , a r c h i t e c t o f t h e u n i v e r s e and A r c h i m u s i c u s i n t h e P l a t o n i c t r a d i t i o n . Even more c l o s e l y t h a n images t a i n t e d by any r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h t h e s e n s e s as were e v e n t h o s e o f the s u n a s s o c i a t e d w i t h l i g h t and f i r e , what F i c i n o and P i c o c a l l " m a t h e m a t i c a l i m a g e s " e n a b l e d man t o 27 a p p r o x i m a t e s o m e t h i n g o f t h e q u a l i t y o f t h e d i v i n e m i n d . I n t h e K a b b a l i s t i c t r a d i t i o n , a n u m e r i c a l s y m b o l i s m i n v e s t e d numbers t h e m s e l v e s w i t h a m y s t i c a l s i g n i f i c a n c e and even a power t o e f f e c t r e s u l t s , dependent on t h e n u m b e r ' s embodiment o f e s s e n c e , c o m p a r a b l e t o t h a t o f t h e m a g i c p r o p e r t i e s o f names. T h i s p e r s u a s i o n may be r e l a t e d t o t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t c o n c e p t i o n o f t h e s y m b o l as 28 autonomous, e x i s t i n g by " n a t u r e " r a t h e r t h a n by " c o n v e n t i o n . " L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f m a t h e m a t i c a l images e m b r a c e s . b o t h t h e p r e d o m i n a n t N e o - P l a t o n i s t v i s i o n o f f o r m a l harmony composed on t h e 207 b a s i s o f n u m e r i c a l p r o p o r t i o n i n an e s t h e t i c a l l y p e r f e c t u n i v e r s e , and t h e i n h e r e n t s i g n i f i c a n c e o f numbers i n t h e m s e l v e s . B a s i c t o the N e o - P l a t o n i s t v i e w o f harmony i s an a c c e p t a n c e o f the P l a t o n i c I d e a p r e c e d i n g i t s v i s i b l e m a n i f e s t a t i o n . A d a p t e d t o C h r i s t i a n t h e o l o g y , t h e i d e a e x i s t i n g i n t h e d i v i n e mind f i n d s e x p r e s s i o n i n t h e f i r s t - c r e a t e d W o r d , t h e Logos t h r o u g h whom man c a n b e g i n t o u n d e r s t a n d t h e d i v i n e I d e a as a h a r m o n i o u s p a t t e r n : . . . t a P a r o l l e . . . Q u i e s t l ' O u t i l mouvant e t du Monde l e moule ( E n c y c l i e , p . 114) . . . 6 alme S a p i e n c e : Car i l t e p o s s e d o i t des l e commencement, Tu e s t o i s j a d e v a n t l e s Oeuvres l o n g u e m e n t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 122) Ange du g r a n d c o n s e i l , l e f i d e l l e i n t e r p r £ t e Du S i l e n c e d i v i n en p a r o l l e s e c r § t e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 124) I n t e l l i g e n c e i s s u p r e m e . A c c o r d i n g to L a B o d e r i e ' s u n o r t h o d o x P l a t o n i s t t e n e t t h e Son was n o t c o - e t e r n a l w i t h God t h e F a t h e r , b u t t h e d i v i n e I d e a w h i c h p r e c e d e d c r e a t i o n . The a r t i s t - a r c h i t e c t s h o u l d i m i t a t e t h e c r e a t i v e p r o c e s s : I m i t a n s l e g r a n d D i e u q u i a v o i t d i s p e n s e d L a m a c h i n e du Monde au r o n d de s a pensee A v a n t que de l ' o u v r i r , e t l a p r o d u i r e au j o u r , P e i g n a n t s a g r a n d I d e e en 1 ' o e u v r e f a i t au t o u r . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 4 0 v ) The m a l e q u a l i t y a c c o r d i n g t o t h e e l e m e n t a l t r o p e o f F o r m : M a s c u l i n e / M a t t e r : F e m i n i n e ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 7 0 - 7 2 ) , t h e f o r m a l i d e a a c c o u n t s f o r t h e e s t h e t i c p e r f e c t i o n o f t h e u n i v e r s e ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 2 2 , 221 f f . ) and r e p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e u n i v e r s e as a g r e a t t e m p l e ( E n c y c l i e , 208 p p . 1 9 , 134 f f . ) . S i n c e t h e d i v i n e I d e a i s r e v e a l e d i n God p o r t r a y e d as t h e g r e a t a r c h i t e c t (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 240 , E n c y c l i e , p . 4 2 , G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 1 r V , 4 0 V ) and t h e supreme composer ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 92 ) , i t behoves t h e human a r t i s t t o p a t t e r n h i s work on t h a t o f t h e C r e a t o r . Images o f t h e p o e t - m u s i c i a n t u n i n g h i s i n s t r u m e n t a r e t h u s no c o n v e n t i o n a l f i g u r e s , b u t s y m b o l s o f t h e p o e t ' s power t o r e - c r e a t e o r renew t h e w o r l d , o r a c c o r d i n g t o t h e K a b b a l i s t i c c o n c e p t t o p a r t i c i p a t e i n t h e c o n t i n u o u s c r e a t i o n o p e r a t e d i n t h e e m a n a t i o n s o f t h e S e p h i r o t h f r o m t h e d i v i n e ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 2 5 , 1 1 5 , 1 2 1 , e t c . ) . M u s i c a l " e f f e c t s " a r e dependent on t h e p o e t ' s knowledge o f m a t h e m a t i c a l l a w s o f h a r m o n y , f o r m a n ' s i d e a t i o n a l power i n d i c a t e s t h e p o s s i b i l i t y o f h i s r e g e n e r a t i o n t o h i s p r i m a l p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n t h e d i v i n e : V o i r e s i 1'homme a r r i v e a l a p a r f a i c t e a c c o r d a n c e , I I p o u r r a commander j u s q u ' a l a P r o v i d e n c e P a r d e s s u s t o u s l e s C i e u x , p a r t o u t ou e s t c o m p r i s Le Nombre, H i e r a r c h i e , e t O r d r e des E s p r i t s . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 5 r ) 2 9 M a t h e m a t i c a l p r o p o r t i o n c o n c e i v e d as t h e u n i v e r s a l p r i n c i p l e t o w h i c h c o r r e s p o n d t h e p r o p o r t i o n s o f m u s i c a l i n t e r v a l s and h a r m o n i e s i s t h e s u b j e c t o f much o f L a B o d e r i e ' s work ( G a l l i a d e , C i r c l e I V ; Harmonie du m o n d e ) . One p a s s a g e i s e s p e c i a l l y n o t a b l e f o r i t s s u c c e s s f u l o r c h e s t r a t i o n o f t h e theme o f l u c i d a p r o p o r t i o . I n t h i s c a s e , r e p e t i t i o n s s e r v e t o enhance t h e e t e r n a l c i r c u l a r d a n c e . The p o e t ' s "nombreuses p a r o l l e s " l i k e t h e e c h o i n g h a r m o n i e s o f t h e m u s i c i a n ' s i n s t r u m e n t s become t r u e s y m b o l s as t h e y embody t h e u n i v e r s a l p r i n c i p l e o f number and 209 p r o p o r t i o n . L a B o d e r i e ' s p r o f o u n d d e s i r e f o r h a r m o n i o u s r e c o n c i l i a t i o n i s r e a l i s e d i n t h i s a s s i m i l a t i o n o f d i v i n e t o a r t i s t i c c r e a t i o n , o f p o e t r y t o m u s i c and d a n c e , o f c l a s s i c a l Phebus A p o l l o t o H e b r a i c D a v i d , and f i n a l l y o f the d a r k S a t a n i c " A q u i l o n " t o t h e l u m i n o u s d i v i n e s u n : F a i t e s moy t o u r n o y e r p a r nombreuses p a r o l l e s E t l e s E s p r i t s mouvans, e t du C i e l l e s c a r o l l e s , E n t o n n e z es t u y a u x des Orgues l o n g s e t r o n d s Des C i e u x o r g a n i s e z l a M u s i q u e e t l e s tons F a i t e s s u r l e c l a v i e r d ' u n e douce E p i n e t e M a r c h e r d ' o r d r e e t de r a n g P l a n e t e a p r e s P l a n e t e Sous l e b a l du g r a n d C i e l , q u i v o i t avec t a n t d ' y e u x E t d ' a s t r e s t o u r n o y a n t s , au s o n m e l o d i e u x De l a l y r e , a P h e b u s , q u i meine en r o n d l e u r danse E t l e s f a i t a r r i v e r p a r nombre a l a c a d a n c e ; A i n s i comme D a v i d sous s a h a r p e c o n d u i t Le S o l e i l du S o l e i l , l e C i e l du C i e l q u i l u i t , L a Lune de l a L u n e , e t l e s S i g n e s des S i g n e s , E t des A s t r e s b r i l l a n t s l e s A s t r e s p l u s i n s i g n e s , A l o r s q u ' e n l a m i n u i t 1 ' A q u i l o n e x c i t e Sonne dedans s a h a r p e en l a s a i n t e C i t e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 1 r ) Number as a p r i n c i p l e s y m b o l i z e s t h e d i v i n e I d e a i n C r e a t i o n r v ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 79 - 8 0 ) and t h e d i v i n e i d e a t i o n a l q u a l i t y i n man: E t comme l ' A m e e n c o r l a q u e l l e e s t un v r a y Nombre, Un Nombre s o y - m o u v a n t . . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 126) F o r t h e R e n a i s s a n c e N e o - P l a t o n i s t , as f o r t h e c l a s s i c a l w r i t e r s s t u d i e d b y S p i t z e r , " t h e e l e m e n t o f n u m b e r s , g u a r a n t e e i n g b e a u t y , o r d e r and measure t o t h e cosmos, i s t h e one i m p o r t a n t and l a s t i n g e l e m e n t o f t h e w o r l d s o u l , and c o n s e q u e n t l y o f t h e human s o u l : a b e a u t y h i d d e n t o m o r t a l man, though g r a s p a b l e by t h e m a t h e m a t i c a l l y t r a i n e d p h i l o s o p h e r • •, • ..30 and m u s i c o l o g i s t . 210 I n d i v i d u a l numbers a l s o embody an e s s e n t i a l s y m b o l i c s i g n i f i c a n c e . L a B o d e r i e ' s " m a r r i a g e o f h e a v e n and e a r t h " ( G a l l i a d e , " A d v e r t i s s e m e n t " ) i n h i s a c c o u n t o f t h e p e o p l i n g o f t h e e a r t h " d i v i s e e / P a r q u a t r e , c i n q , e t s e p t , douze e t s e p t a n t e e t d e u x , / P u i s p a r nombres e t t r a i t s l e s q u e l s dependent d ' e u x " ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 3 6 V ) draws on a s t r o l o g i c a l and K a b b a l i s t i c n u m e r i c a l s y m b o l i s m , as does h i s i n t e r - p r e t a t i o n o f t h e n u m e r i c a l v a l u e s o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 134 f f . ) . A g a i n , h o w e v e r , i n h i s u s e o f m a t h e m a t i c a l i m a g e s , L a B o d e r i e e f f e c t s an a s s i m i l a t i o n o f s e v e r a l a n c i e n t t r a d i t i o n s . The q u a t e r n a r y i s t h e b a s i c number o f a l l t h e m a j o r t r a d i t i o n s on w h i c h L a B o d e r i e drew f o r h i s s y m b o l i s m . S p i t z e r has p o i n t e d o u t t h a t i n t h e P y t h a g o r e a n and P l a t o n i c t r a d i t i o n s " s p e c u l a t i o n s on t h e ' w e l l - t e m p e r e d ' s t a t e — o f t h e s o u l , o f t h e b o d y , o f t h e u n i v e r s e 31 i t s e l f — r e s t on t h e h a r m o n i o u s c o m b i n a t i o n o f f o u r e l e m e n t s . " The t e t r a k t y s o f s e v e n numbers w h i c h r e p r e s e n t e d c r e a t i o n as t h e two p r o g r e s s i o n s o f 1 : 2 : 4 : 8 and 1 : 3 : 9 : 27 was r e l a t e d t o t h e h a r m o n i e s e s t a b l i s h e d i n t h e t e t r a c h o r d , o f w h i c h t h e m u s i c a l s c a l e was b u t a d o u b l i n g . As a k i n d o f d o u b l e b a l a n c e , t h e t e t r a k t y s , a c c o r d i n g t o S p i t z e r , " h a d n e c e s s a r i l y t o become, a l o n g w i t h t h e 32 s p h e r e , a s y m b o l o f p e r f e c t i o n and e q u i l i b r i u m . " I n t h e K a b b a l i s t t r a d i t i o n e n d l e s s s p e c u l a t i o n s on t h e f o u r l e t t e r s o f G o d ' s name, t h e g r e a t T e t r a g r a m m a t o n , c e n t e r e d on t h e p e r f e c t i o n o f t h e q u a l i t i e s embodied i n t h e q u a t e r n a r y . L a B o d e r i e ' s s y m b o l i z a t i o n o f p e r f e c t i o n and h i s h a r m o n i z i n g o f d i v e r s e t r a d i t i o n s i s most s u c c e s s f u l i n t h e s o n n e t o f t h e " G r a n d 211 Q u a t e r n a i e " ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 81 ) Of h i s many uses o f t h e s y m b o l i c v a l u e o f " 4 , " t h r e e o t h e r s a r e e s p e c i a l l y n o t e w o r t h y . T o t a l i t y i s f i g u r e d b y v a r i a t i o n s o f t h e number " 4 " i n t h e a c c o u n t o f t h e p e o p l i n g v r o f t h e w o r l d ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 36 - 3 7 ) . The s u g g e s t i o n o f r e n e w a l i n p e r f e c t i o n i s announced i n t h e s o n n e t " A u Roy C a t h b l i q u e , s u r 1 ' i m p r e s s i o n des g r a n d e s B i b l e s d ' A n v e r s " w h i c h c o n c l u d e s : Ores l ' A i g l e , e t l e B e u f , e t l e L i o n , e t l'Homme P a r l ' H e b r i e u , S y r i e n , G r e c , e t p a r l e r de Romme D ' O c c i d e n t e t du N o r t h , du M i d i e t L e v a n t ; De l ' E u r o p e , e t d ' A s i e , A f r i q u e e t A t l a n t i d e V o n t c u e i l l i r l e s e l e u s du g r a n d D i e u q u i p r e s i d e , En R a i s o n , G r a c e , Loy e t N a t u r e e s c r i v a n t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 246) L a B o d e r i e ' s e x t e n d e d a n a l y s i s o f m u s i c a l i n t e r v a l s and h a r m o n i e s i n L a G a l l i a d e shows e v e n D a v i d ' s " p a r f a i t D e c a c h o r d e " m o d e l l e d on t h e t e n K a b b a l i s t S e p h i r o t h and O r p h e u s ' h e p t a c h o r d p a t t e r n e d " s u r l a l y r e du C i e l " o f t h e s e v e n p l a n e t s t o have been a n t e d a t e d b y t h e G a l l i c b a r d s ' r e c o g n i t i o n o f t h e f u n d a m e n t a l q u a t e r n a r y : . . . des Q u a t r e E l e m e n t s Nos B a r d e s e m p r u n t o i e n t l e s q u a t r e fondements De l a M u s i q u e humaine . . . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 8 3 r _ V ) J e w i s h - C h r i s t i a n and Greek number s y m b o l i s m c o a l e s c e f u l l y i n t h e t y p o l o g y w h i c h r e l a t e s " 4 " t o " 1 0 , " w h i c h S p i t z e r r e c a l l s i s 3 A- " s y m b o l i c a l o f d i v i n e p e r f e c t i o n and s e l f - c o n t a i n e d n e s s . " F o u r s u g g e s t s a r e t u r n t o u n i t y inasmuch as t h e numbers o f the p r o g r e s s i o q u a t e r n a r i a c r e a t e t h e r a t i o s p r o d u c t i v e o f m u s i c a l harmony and harmony d e n o t e s u n i t y w i t h G o d , t h e o r i g i n o f c r e a t i o n , r e p r e s e n t e d n u m e r i c a l l y as t h e M o n a d . F u r t h e r m o r e , a d d i t i o n o f t h e f i r s t f o u r 212 numbers g i v e s t e n , w h i c h i t s e l f d e n o t e s a r e t u r n t o u n i t y . The t e n o f t h e Law p o i n t s f o r w a r d t o t h e f o u r o f t h e G o s p e l s as D a v i d ' s s o n g on h i s t e n - s t r i n g e d i n s t r u m e n t i s a f i g u r a o f C h r i s t ' s message i n t h e f o u r G o s p e l s . The w h o l e o f t h e number s y m b o l i s m so i n t e r p r e t e d f i g u r e s f o r t h t h e harmony o f c r e a t i o n and i t s o r i g i n i n t h e d i v i n e I d e a i n t h e supreme U n i t y . I n h i s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e J e w i s h T a b e r n a c l e , L a B o d e r i e e x p l o i t s t h i s m a t h e m a t i c a l i m a g e r y f a m i l i a r t o r e a d e r s o f h i s t i m e i n o r d e r t o " p r o v e " i t s d i v i n e l y c o n c e i v e d s y m b o l i c s i g n i f i c a n c e . Thus t h e t h r e e s t o r e y s , o r t h r e e macro^smic w o r l d s ' t o be a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e m i c r o c o s m , a r e : . . . e n c o u r t i n e [ s ] de d i s t e n t e s d r e s s e e s . De L i n , P o u r p r e , H y a c i n t h e , e t de V e r m e i l t r e s s e e s . E t l e v i s i b l e Monde e s t c o u v e r t e t t e n d u De d i s C i e u x a z u r e s l ' u n s u r 1 ' a u t r e e s t e n d u , T i s s u s de F l a m e , e t d ' A i r , d ' E a u e t de p u r e T e r r e , A i n s i ces q u a t r e C o r p s s o n t aus C i e u s a r r o n d i s C a r d ' u n , d e u s , t r o i s , e t q u a t r e e s t compose l e D i s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 143) The f o u r c o n s t i t u t i v e e l e m e n t s , " A m i s - c o n t r a i r e s , " and t h e t e n c e l e s t i a l s p h e r e s r e p r e s e n t e d i n t h e K a b b a l a h by t h e S e p h i r o t h as e m a n a t i o n s o r " H a b i t z . . . / Dont se v e s t i t j a d i s 1 ' E t e r n e l t o u t - v o y a n t " ( E n c y c l i e , p . 144) a l l become i n d i c a t i v e o f an e s s e n t i a l u n i t y . T h e i r a s s o c i a t i o n , t o g e t h e r w i t h t h e " E t h e r m o y e n , " i s r e p r e s e n t e d by t h e f i f t e e n s t e p s by w h i c h one must e n t e r t h e h o l y " S a c r a i r e " o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1 4 5 ) . The number s e v e n s y m b o l i z e s u l t i m a t e p e r f e c t i o n . I t i s 213 a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e q u a t e r n a r y i n t h e P y t h a g o r e a n t e t r a k t y s . I t i s a l s o a s s o c i a t e d w i t h d i v i n e l i g h t i n t h e K a b b a l i s t c a n d e l a b r a . L a B o d e r i e a f f i r m s : . . . D i e u q u i t o u t d i s p o s e , F a i t q u ' a u nombre de S e p t p r e s q u e t o u t se r e p o s e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 8 0 v ) H i s e l a b o r a t i o n o f t h e s e v e n means o f m y s t i c e c s t a s y , t h e s e v e n " r a v i s s e m e n t s de l ' A m e " ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 59 - 6 7 ) , s u g g e s t s t h e s e v e n p l a n e t s and r e c a l l s h i s i m a g e r y o f l i g h t i n t h e " s e p t Temples l u i s a n t s " f r o m w h i c h f l o w s " l a l u m i e r e s e c r e t e , " o r " l e s s e p t m i r o i r s l e n o s t r e c o n d u i s a n t s " ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 9 V ) . R e l a t i v e l y u n i m p o r t a n t i n K a b b a l i s t i c s p e c u l a t i o n s , t h e number n i n e i s r e l a t e d t o t h e c l a s s i c a l m u s e s , who w i t h A p o l l o p a r t a k e o f t h e q u a l i t i e s o f 1 0 , and t o t h e C h r i s t i a n T r i n i t y a c c o r d i n g t o t h e p s e u d o - D i o n y s i a n t r i a d i c scheme ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 5 4 V ) . ^ U n i t y i s t h u s once more a f f i r m e d . A l l L a B o d e r i e ' s number s y m b o l i s m p o i n t s t o a n e g a t i o n o f number, a r e s o l u t i o n o f t h e m u t a b l e many i n t h e i m m u t a b l e One. H i s c o n s t a n t s t r i v i n g f o r harmony i m p l i e s h i s f a i t h i n t h e r e g e n e r a t i o n o f man t o be a c h i e v e d when man, t h r o u g h l e a r n i n g and C h r i s t i a n l o v e , r e t u r n s t o h i s p r i m a l u n i o n w i t h G o d . I n h i s " C a n t i q u e Aus p o e t e s de s o n temps . . . " h e summons t h e p o e t , " d o c t e e t v e r t u e u x , " t o be t h e f i r s t t o p a r t a k e o f t h a t u n i t y : 0 p a r f a i t e Unite q u i t e p e u t l i m i t e r ? 0 p a r f a i t e Unite q u i t e p e u t i m i t e r ? 214 A i n s i que l a L u m i e r e e s t p l u s d i g n e que 1'ombre A i n s i e s t l ' U n i t e p l u s d i g n e que l e Nombre. E t comme e s t t o u t l e Temps c l o s de 1 ' E t e r n i t e , A i n s i e s t t o u t l e Nombre e n c l o s de l ' U n i t e . Ce q u i p a r a c c i d e n s a nom de m u l t i t u d e R e v i e n t p a r l e s u j e t a L ' U N e t s o l i t u d e . L ' U N e s t de s o y , p a r s o y , e t p a r soy r e t o u r n e , L ' U N o r n e t o u t e c h o s e , e t de n u l e s t o r n e : B r e f L ' U N e s t s a r a c i n e , e t se nomme soymeme, L ' U N s o n Q u a r r e , s o n C u b e , e t s a r e g i e s u p r e m e . Sonne done L ' U N p a r t o u t n o s t r e L y r e e t o f e e , Que L ' U N nous g u i d e t o u s , comme L ' U N GUIDE ORFEE. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 200) Examples o f i m a g e r y c i t e d above have i n d i c a t e d s o m e t h i n g o f L a B o d e r i e ' s d e b t t o t h e J e w i s h K a b b a l a h . J u s t e s t i m a t i o n o f t h e f u l l e x t e n t o f h i s d e b t r e q u i r e s i n t i m a t e f a m i l i a r i t y w i t h t h a t t r a d i t i o n and i t s s y m b o l s . A d a z z l i n g i l l u s t r a t i o n o f L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f t h e K a b b a l a h t o c o l o u r h i s i m a g e r y o f t h e m a t e r i a l w o r l d i s h i s e x t e n d e d p o r t r a y a l o f t h e t h r e e m a c r o c o s m i c w o r l d s and man t h e m i c r o c o s m as " l e P o r t r a i t du l u i s a n t T a b e r n a c l e , / Ou l a g l o i r e de D i e u r e c e l e s o n O r a c l e " 37 ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 134-152) and h i s s u b s e q u e n t l i t a n y o f t h e names o f God i n t h e " H a b i t z " o f the S e p h i r o t h ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 5 3 - 1 5 4 ) . L a B o d e r i e ' s d i a l e c t i c o f l i g h t and d a r k i s c u s t o m a r i l y c o l o u r e d o n l y by t h e r e d b l o o d o f t h e m a r t y r s o r w i n e o f t h e E u c h a r i s t ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 2 , 1 5 0 ) . H i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e theme o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e i s , on t h e c o n t r a r y , r e s p l e n d e n t w i t h w o r k e d and p o l i s h e d g o l d , e x q u i s i t e l y c u t p r e c i o u s s t o n e s , and f i n e b r o c a d e o r d e l i c a t e e m b r o i d e r y . O n l y i n h i s use o f t h e K a b b a l i s t t r a d i t i o n does t h e a u s t e r e s p i r i t o f t h i s C o u n t e r - 215 R e f o r m a t i o n a p o l o g i s t assume an o r i e n t a l r i c h n e s s . A s e n s u o u s a p p r e c i a t i o n o f t h e p l e n i t u d e o f God h e r e complements t h e s p i r i t u a l s a t i s f a c t i o n i m p l i c i t i n images o f h i s u n i t y . The f i r s t v e i l , r e p r e s e n t i n g t h e f o u r e l e m e n t s , announces t h e abundance w i t h i n t h e T a b e r n a c l e : Le v o i l e s £ p a r a n t l ' u n e e t 1 ' a u t r e d i s t a n c e E s t o i t de L i n , e t de P o u r p r e c h o i s y , D ' H y a c i n t e m e s l e z , e t rouge C r a m o i s y . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 135) The s e v e n - b r a n c h e d c a n d e l a b r a s h i n e s i n a g o l d e n f i r e l i k e t h a t o f t h e p l a n e t s : L e g r a n d C h a n d e l i e r d ' o r q u i l u i s o i t l a dedans A s e p t rameaus c o u r b e z de s e p t Lampes a r d e n s , Ce s o n t l e s s e p t Flambeaus q u i d ' u n j o u r m a n i f e s t e E c l a r c i s s e n t l ' o b s c u r de l a V o u t e c e l e s t e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 137) The s e v e n f l a m e s show f o r t h n o t o n l y t h e s e v e n means o f man's s e n s o r y i m p r e s s i o n s p r e s i d e d o v e r b y t h e s e v e n p l a n e t s , b u t a l s o t h e p e n e t r a t i n g c l a r i t y o f C h r i s t : M a i s au g r a n d Temple s a i n t ce s o n t l e s s e p t beaus yeus De l ' A g n e a u t r i o m f a n t , s e p t E s p r i t s g l o r i e u s , L e s q u e l z s o n t envoyez parmy t o u t e l a T e r r e , L e s s e p t Lampes que v i d l ' u n des f i l z du T o n n e r r e A r d r e d e v a n t l e T h r o n e , ou se s i e d en a r r o y Le p r e m i e r e t d e r n i e r de t o u s s i e c l e s l e R o y . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 137-138) The A r c o f the T a b e r n a c l e , s y m b o l i z i n g t h e h i g h e s t w o r l d o f t h e i n t e l l i g i b l e , shows p e r f e c t i o n b o t h i n i t s f o r m and i n i t s m a t e r i a l : Dedans l e S a n c t u a i r e e s t o i t l ' A r c h e l o g e e D ' a i s de b o i s de R e c h e r c h e u n i m e n t a r r a n g e e , P a r d e h o r s e n c r o u s t g e e t p a r dedans e n c o r D ' u n f u e i l l a g e b r i l l a n t d ' e s p r e s s e s lames d ' o r , De q u a t r e aneaus d ' o r f i n aus q u a t r e a n g l e s m u n i e , 216 E t a y a n t t o u t a u t o u r c o u r o n n e d ' o r b r u n i e , D ' o r mesme l e c o u v e r c l e , ou l ' o n v o y o i t p o s e z Deus C h e r u b i n s a i l e z de p u r o r composez, Se m i r a n s f r o n t a f r o n t d ' u n r e g a r d p l e i n de g l o i r e , E t des a i l e s c o u v r a n s l e P r o p i c i a t o i r e . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 139-140) Such g o l d e n s p l e n d o u r i s n o t g r a t u i t o u s i n L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k , f o r i n t h e m i c r o c o s m t h e A r c s y m b o l i z e s t h e s e a t o f man's d i v i n e l y - g r a n t e d r e a s o n and t h u s t h e p r o m i s e o f h i s r e b i r t h t h r o u g h C h r i s t , t h e " g l o r y " embodied i n t h e f o u r t h l e t t e r o f t h e T e t r a g r a m m a t o n : L o r s on v e r r a l e J o u r t o u t p l e i n e m e n t s ' o u v r i r L a G l o i r e du T r e s h a u t v e n a n t l ' A r c h e c o u v r i r , L ' A r c h e de v o s t r e Chef . . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 141) I n t h e c e r e m o n i a l v e s t m e n t s o f t h e h i g h p r i e s t p r e s i d i n g i n t h e s a n c t u a r y was r e p r e s e n t e d t h e f u l l g l o r y o f c r e a t i o n , f o r h i s r o l e was t o p r e f i g u r e C h r i s t t h r o u g h whom a l l c r e a t i o n must be r e n e w e d . Thus h e : P o r t o i t en s e s h a b i t s t o u t l e Monde d e p e i n t : En ombre f i g u r a n t J e s u - C h r i s t p u r e t monde, Q u i p a r s o n s a c r i f i c e a s o u s t e n u l e Monde. ( E n c y c l i e , p . 147) The d e s c r i p t i o n s o f t h e e l e m e n t s o f t h e s e v e s t m e n t s a r e e x a c t , b u t a g a i n t h e y a r e i m p o r t a n t t o L a B o d e r i e n o t so much f o r t h e i r s e n s u o u s v i v i d n e s s b u t f o r t h e i r s i g n i f i c a n c e as t r u e s y m b o l s o f t h e d i v i n e w i l l i n h i s c r e a t i o n . Thus each d e t a i l i s a s s i g n e d i t s p l a c e i n K a b b a l i s t i c a s t r o l o g y and number s y m b o l i s m , and t h e J e w i s h t r a d i t i o n i s l i n k e d t o t h e C h r i s t i a n and t o L a B o d e r i e ' s own h i s t o r i c a l t h e o r i e s as s e t f o r t h i n L a G a l l i a d e : Deus aneaus a g r a f f e z t e n o y e n t a l ' e s p a u l i e r A u s q u e l z l e R a i s o n n e l se v e n o i t a l l i e r Avec c h e i n e t t e s d ' o r gentement c o r d o n n d e s : Dessus l e R a i s o n n e l e s t o i e n t b i e n ordonndes Douze P e r l e s d ' e l i t e en q u a t r e r a n g t a s s e z , 217 E t p o u r d i g n e r e m p l a g e en f i n o r e n c h a s s e z : Sur l e s P i e r r e s e n c o r e m p r e i n t e s e t s i g n e r s E s t o y e n t l e s noms des P a i r s des douze g r a n s l i g n e e s Du p e u p l e d ' I s r a e l , q u i o r e s e s t e p a r s En royaumes d i v e r s , e t en d i v e r s e s p a r s : C a r t o u s l e s h a b i t a n s d e s s u s l a T e r r e ronde Sont e n f a n s d ' I s r a e l p o u r q u i f u t f a i t l e Monde, Les deus aneaus ce s o n t l e s deus c e r c l e s o r n e z Des deus p l u s grands f l a m b e a u s , p a r l e s q u e l z s o n t b o r n e z Tous l e s aneaus des a n s , e t l e s P i e r r e s de marque S o n t l e s S i g n e s marquez dedans l e Z o d i a q u e . L e s q u a t r e r a n g s a u s s i , s o n t l e s q u a t r e S a i s o n s Que f a i t Phebus p a s s a n t p a r l e s douze M a i s o n s . Les c h e i n o n s c o r d o n n e z , ce s o n t l e s r a y s que t i r e n t L a Lune e t l e S o l e i l , e t c e u s - l a q u ' i l z a t t i r e n t Des m o i n d r e s yeus du C i e l , s o i t q u ' a d e m i r e g a r d I l z s e m i r e n t l ' u n l ' a u t r e , ou d ' u n t i e r s , ou d ' u n q u a r t . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 148) S i n c e t h e J e w i s h t r a d i t i o n has b e e n c o m p l e t e d b y t h e C h r i s t i a n , h o w e v e r , A r o n ' s v e s t m e n t s must be r e p l a c e d by " t o u t e s l e s v e r t u s . " K a b b a l i s t i m a g e r y i s complemented by t h e c o n v e n t i o n a l C h r i s t i a n s y m b o l s : D e s p o u i l l e z s e u l e m e n t l e v i e l homme t a c h e , E t p u i s s u r v e s t e z - v o u s 1'Homme nouveau c a c h e , Q u i en v i n a l a v e s o n h a b i t , e t s a cape A b i e n v o u l u t r e m p e r dans l e s a n g de l a g r a p e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 150) The o r t h o d o x C h r i s t i a n s y m b o l s a r e p e r s i s t e n t l y e n r i c h e d by K a b b a l i s t r e m i n i s c e n c e s , h o w e v e r . L a B o d e r i e ' s o n l y e v o c a t i o n o f an o l f a c t o r y s e n s e i s drawn f r o m a Hebrew e t y m o l o g i c a l r e l a t i o n s h i p o f " o r a i s o n " and " o d e u r p a r f u m e e , " and " l ' A g n e a u t r i o m f a n t " b r i n g s about t h e f u l f i l l - ment o f " l ' A r c h e d ' a l l i a n c e " : L o r s vous s e r a p e r m i s de s o r t i r h o r s du P o i l e C e l e s t e e t a z u r £ , e t e n t r e r sous l e V o i l e Du S a c r a i r e t r e s s a i n t , e t s u r l ' a u t e l d o r £ D ' a r o m a t i c p a r f u n s e r a D i e u a d o r e . D r e s s e z v o s t r e o r a i s o n comme o d e u r p a r f u m e e , A f i n que vous ayez v o s t r e lampe a l l U m e e Au d e v a n t de l ' E s p o u s , e t que ne m a n q u i e z p o i n t 218 Du cresme e t de l o n g u e n t d o n t v o s t r e C h r i s t e s t O i n t , A n c o i s que l a v a p e u r s o r t a n t de l a f i o l e Comme un image c l a i r j u s q u e au Throne s ' e n v o l l e De l ' A g n e a u t r i o m f a n t , q u i p e u t l e l i v r e o u v r i r , E t l ' A r c h e d ' a l l i a n c e a i l l e du t o u t c o u v r i r . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 151) The s y m b o l i c v a l u e o f t h e names o f God i s o f paramount i m p o r t a n c e i n t h e K a b b a l a h . I n L a B o d e r i e ' s work t h e t e n names o f God m a n i f e s t i n g t h e d i v i n e c r e a t i v e I d e a a r e f i r s t e x p l a i n e d i n r e l a t i o n t o t h e t e n v e i l s a r o u n d t h e T a b e r n a c l e : E t a i n s i que de r a n g d i f f e r e n t ces C o u r t i n e s E l l e s o n t d i v e r s noms dans l e s l e t t r e s d i v i n e s . L e t t r e s , a c c e n s , e t p o i n t s , l e s Ideaus r a y o n s P a r q u i l a grand P a r o l l e i n v i s i b l e v o y o n s . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 144) The v e i l s r e p r e s e n t t h e S e p h i r o t h , t h e c o n t i n u o u s l y e m a n a t i n g m a n i f e s t a t i o n s o f t h e d i v i n e c r e a t i v e p o w e r . The l u x u r i a n c e o f t h e i m a g e r y a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e s e c i r c u l a r 38 S e p h i r o t h i s i l l u s t r a t e d i n L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e t e n t h o r l o w e s t , t h a t a s s o c i a t e d w i t h t h e m a t e r i a l w o r l d , the- f e m i n i n e q u a l i t y t o be " m a r r i e d " t o t h e d i v i n e male f o r m as t h e C h r i s t i a n C h u r c h i s t h e 39 B r i d e o f C h r i s t , o r t h e " L i v r e de V i e " w h i c h was t o be opened o n l y by t h e r e d e e m i n g C h r i s t : L a p r e m i e r e C o u r t i n e ou b i e n S f i r e S f d r a l l e A commencer d'embas comme en l i g n e S p i r a l l e Se t o u r n e en p l u s i e u r s p l i s , e t p l u s i e u r s noms r e c o i t Comme en p l u s i e u r s e f f e c t s u n homme l a c o n c o i t : T a n t o s t e l l e e s t R e g n e , e t t a n t o s t on l ' a p p e l l e L a P i e r r e de S a f i r , 1 ' E s p o u s e t o u t e - b e l l e , L e P u i s de v i v e s e a u s , e t l a p r o f o n d e Mer Ou f l e u v e s e t r u i s s e a u s s e v i e n n e n t a b i s m e r : L a T e r r e des v i v a n s , e t l e L i v r e de V i e , 219 De S c i e n c e l e B o i s , d o n t 1'homme e u t t r o p d ' e n v i e : L a Royne des Oyseaus A i g l e de d i g n i t e , E t l ' H a b i t a t i o n de l a D i v i n i t e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 144) I n a l i t a n y o f t h e Hebrew names o f God w h i c h c o r r e s p o n d t o t h e S e p h i r o t h , L a B o d e r i e p r o c e e d s f r o m t h e h i g h e s t t r a n s c e n d e n t E n - S o p h , t h r o u g h t h e d i v i n e i n t e l l i g e n c e and p r i m e m o v e r : 0 Toy E h i e q u i e s , q u i f u s , e t q u i s e r a s , Tu f a i s l e s S e r a f i n s , t u l e s f e i s , e t f e r a s , Tu a f f e r m i s l e t o u r de l a S f e r e E m p i r e e Dedens un l i e u sans l i e u e n c l o s e e t a s s u r e e : E t ne d e l a i s s e s p o i n t l e R i e n dedans s o n R i e n , A n c o i s l e mesme R i e n t u combles de t o n B n : 4 0 Yah l e s C h e r u b i n s comme e n f a n t s t u e n f a n t e s , Tu meus l e p r e m i e r C i e l des n e u f S f e r e s m o u v a n t e s , E t ne c e s s e s j a m a i s de t r a i t e r e t m o l l i r Le non forme Chaos a f i n de l e p o l l i r . YHWYH t u a s s i e d s l e s Thrones en l e u r o r d r e , E t l e C i e l e t e l e t u v i e n s v i r e r e t t o r d r e , Mesme v i e n s . i m p r i m e r dans l e c o u l a n t r u i s s e a u De l a p r i m e N a t u r e , e t l a forme e t l e s e a u . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 153) I l l u s t r a t i n g t h e a s p e c t s o f c r e a t i o n o f w h i c h t h e s y m b o l i c names o f God c o n t a i n t h e e s s e n c e , L a B o d e r i e c o n t i n u e s t h r o u g h t h e c e l e s t i a l w o r l d o f t h e p l a n e t s t o the t e r r e s t r i a l m a t e r i a l w o r l d r u l e d by t h e moon: 0 E l t u e s t a b l i s l e s h a u t e s S e i g n e u r i e s , E t l ' A s t r e S a t u r n a l t u t o u r n e s e t v a r i e s , E t a l a masse e n c o r du c o r p s l o u r d e t p g s a n t Tu donnes l a f a c o n d ' o u v r a g e p l u s p l a i s a n t . YHWH l e s V e r t u s en e v i d e n c e a m i n e s , L ' E s t o i l l e J o v i a l e en douze ans t u pourm£nes, V o i r e e t des Elemens l a n a t u r e g l i s s a n t P a r t o y du c e n t r e n o i r en l u m i e r e e s t i s s a n t , E l o h i m d e s s o u s Toy l e s P u i s s a n c e s a v o i i e s , L ' h o r r i b l e a s t r e de Mars incessamment t u r o i i e s , E t l e temperament t u donnes aus metaus P o u r e n d u r e r l e f e u , l a t r e m p e , e t l e s m a r t e a u s . YHWH Z a b a o t h t u mes au r a n g p l u s p r o c h e 220 T o u t e P r i n c i p a u t e , t u g u i d e s l e beau coche De t o n S o l e i l v i t a l , e t d ' u n r a y v a s e n t a n t Le V i f a c c r o i s s e m e n t au t i g e v e g e t a n t . E l o h i m Z a b a o t h t u o r d o n i i e s e t r a n g e s Le s c a d r o n t r i o m f a n t des g l o r i e u x A r c h a n g e s , L ' o r n i e r e de Venus l a b e l l e t u c o n d u i s , E t t o u s l e s animans p o u r 1'homme t u p r o d u i s . E l S a d a i Tout P u i s s a n t , t u d e p a r s comme p r i n c e L e s Anges b i e n h e u r e u x en c h a s c u n e p r o v i n c e , De M e r c u r e l e . c i e l t u r o u l e s de t a m a i n , E t formes l a R a i s o n de t o u t l e genre h u m a i n . 0 Roy A d o n a i t u p r o d u i s 1 ' a s s e m b l e d Des Ames d o n t 1 ' E t h e r a s a v o u t e c o m b l d e , E t de l a b l a n c h e Lune en moins de t r e n t e j o u r s Tu h a s t e s l a c a r r i e r e e t acheVes l e c o u r s . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 153-154) I n t h e l a s t i n v o c a t i o n A d o n a i , l i k e t h e moon r e f l e c t i n g t h e d i v i n e s u n ' s r a y s t o t h e m a t e r i a l w o r l d , i s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h C h r i s t and w i t h t h e m y s t i c e c s t a s y o f p e r f e c t l o v e : P a r t o y des s a i n s E l e u s en l a m o r t e l l e V i e P a r l a M o r t du B a i s e r l a Pensee e s t r a v i e , Quand t u v i e n s embraser d ' u n e amoureuse a r d e u r , E t de t o n b e a u V i s a g e y s c e l l e s l a s p l e n d e u r . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 154) The K a b b a l i s t theme o f d e a t h by t h e k i s s so f r e q u e n t l y f o u n d i n 40 f o l l o w e r s o f P i c o and r e l a t e d t o the N e o - P l a t o n i s t n o t i o n o f p e r f e c t v i s i o n s u r p a s s i n g i n t e l l e c t u a l c o n c e p t u a l i z i n g , t h u s becomes f o r L a B o d e r i e a l i n k o f t h e J e w i s h t r a d i t i o n w i t h a c e n t r a l C h r i s t i a n m y s t e r y 41 o f p e r f e c t l o v e as t h e means t o r e b i r t h i n p e r f e c t u n d e r s t a n d i n g . I t i s c l e a r f r o m t h e f o r e g o i n g examples t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f i m a g e r y i s t h r o u g h o u t h i s work s y m b o l i c i n i t s i n t e n t i o n . H i s c h o i c e o f p u b l i c s y m b o l s f r o m t h e a n c i e n t f a t h e r s o f t h e p i a p h i l o s o p h i a was c o n s i s t e n t w i t h t h e F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t p r o p o s i t i o n o f t h e e s s e n t i a l 221 v a l u e o f t h e s y m b o l s by w h i c h t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i had v e i l e d t h e i r r e v e l a t i o n s , and w i t h h i s own c o n c e p t i o n o f h i s r o l e as an Orpheus o r a D a v i d , m e d i a t o r o f an e x t r a - p e r s o n a l d i v i n e t r u t h . I n t h e above a n a l y s i s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f s y m b o l i c i m a g e r y we hope t o have s u g g e s t e d the e v o c a t i v e power o f h i s f u s i o n o f e l e m e n t s f r o m t h e r i c h s t o r e o f e s o t e r i c w r i t i n g s o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a . D r a w i n g on h i s own l e a r n i n g as an o r i e n t a l i s t and on t h e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s o f o r i e n t a l m y s t i c i s m p r o f e r r e d by h i s m a s t e r P o s t e l as w e l l as on t h e f o r m u l a t i o n s o f F i c i n i a n N e o - P l a t o n i s m , L a B o d e r i e s u c c e e d e d i n r e n d e r i n g v i s i b l e t h e most a b s t r a c t c o n c e p t s o f h i s C a t h o l i c a p o l o g e t i c s . I n t h e c i r c l e , f o r e x a m p l e , he p o r t r a y e d n o t o n l y C h r i s t i a n m y s t i c s ' d e f i n i t i o n o f God b u t a l s o P l a t o n i c p e r f e c t f o r m and K a b b a l i s t c o n t i n u o u s d i v i n e c r e a t i o n . The s u n and t h e moon s u g g e s t more t h a n K a b b a l i s t a s t r o l o g i c a l v a l u e s and q u a l i t i e s o f t h e S e p h i r o t h , f o r t h e y p a r t a k e a l s o o f t h e P l a t o n i c harmony o f t h e s p h e r e s and r e p r e s e n t f i n a l l y t h e C h r i s t i a n T r i n i t y t h r o u g h t h e i r m u l t i - v a l e n t p r e s e n t a t i o n as s u p r e m a c y , f o r m a t i v e l i g h t , c r e a t i v e f i r e and m e d i a t i o n . L i g h t i n i t s e l f conveys n o t o n l y r e a s o n o r e v e n t h e Logos b u t a l s o t h e C h r i s t i a n m y s t i c s ' supreme e c s t a t i c v i s i o n i n w h i c h man's eye i s b l i n d e d by the d i v i n e p r i n c i p l e i n c o r p o r a t e d i n t h e s u n , t h e O r p h i c " S o l e i l , l e s e u l - O e i l , " o r " l ' o e i l de l a P e n s £ e . " S i m i l a r l y , images o f a m i r r o r s u g g e s t n o t o n l y man's c a p a c i t y f o r a p p r e h e n s i o n o f C h r i s t i a n v e r i t i e s b u t a l s o h i s need o f C h r i s t , t h e m e d i a t o r between t h e d i v i n e and t h e human as i s t h e A d o n a i o f the t e n t h K a b b a l i s t S e p h i r a . V i s u a l and a u d i t o r y e v o c a t i o n s a r e a l l i e d i n L a B o d e r i e ' s 222 e l a b o r a t i o n s o f t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t p r i n c i p l e o f l u c i d a p r o p o r t i o i n a r c h i t e c t u r e and m u s i c as p a t t e r n s o f d i v i n e l y o r d a i n e d u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y . Development o f t h e K a b b a l i s t theme o f t h e T a b e r n a c l e t h u s complements p o r t r a y a l o f Orpheus as m a s t e r o f m u s i c a l h a r m o n i e s and e l a b o r a t i o n o f t h e P l a t o n i c m u s i c o f t h e s p h e r e s . Numbers t h e m s e l v e s t a k e on a s y m b o l i c v a l u e as L a B o d e r i e r e c a l l s P y t h a g o r e a n and K a b b a l i s t c o n c e p t s o f t h e i r e s s e n t i a l i n h e r e n t c a p a c i t y t o body f o r t h c o n c e p t s . Thus p e r f e c t i o n and t o t a l i t y i n t h e number " 4 " a c c o r d i n g t o b o t h t h e s e t r a d i t i o n s a r e combined w i t h d i v i n i t y i n t h e numbers " 1 " and " 1 0 " a c c o r d i n g t o t h e C h r i s t i a n and K a b b a l i s t t r a d i t i o n s t o e n r i c h L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e K a b b a l i s t T a b e r n a c l e as m u l t i p l e image o f t h e harmony o f d i v i n e u n i v e r s a l c r e a t i o n . The u n i t y i t s e l f , i n n e g a t i n g t h e m u l t i p l i c i t y o f number, becomes f o r L a B o d e r i e o n l y a f u r t h e r p r o o f o f u n i v e r s a l harmony o f w h i c h i t i s a c o n s u m m a t i o n . L a B o d e r i e ' s u s e o f s y m b o l i c i m a g e r y r e l a t e s t o h i s c o n v i c t i o n o f c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s between t h e m i c r o c o s m and t h e macrocosm, a c o n v i c t i o n w h i c h i s i l l u s t r a t e d m o s t s t r i k i n g l y by h i s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e K a b b a l i s t T a b e r n a c l e as r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f t h e human, t h e t e r r e s t r i a l , t h e c e l e s t i a l and t h e a n g e l i c w o r l d s . H i s use o f h e r m e t i c c o r r e s p o n d e n c e s i s , h o w e v e r , c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y e n r i c h e d by t h e C a t h o l i c a p o l o g i s t ' s i n t e r p o l a t i o n o f C h r i s t i a n s y m b o l s s u c h as t h a t o f t h e communion w i n e . The most p e r s o n a l o f L a B o d e r i e ' s a s s i m i l a t i o n s o f K a b b a l i s t i m a g e r y t o C h r i s t i a n a p o l o g e t i c s i s t h a t o f t h e mors o s c u l i r e p r e s e n t i n g a C h r i s t i a n m y s t i c ' s e c s t a t i c v i s i o n . I n t h a t r e c o g n i t i o n o f t h e consummation o f p e r f e c t l o v e i s c o n c e n t r a t e d t h e p o e t ' s a r d e n t d e s i r e f o r h a r m o n i o u s r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f m u l t i p l i c i t y i n u n i t y . I n c o n c l u s i o n , we p r o p o s e t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s power t o move h i s r e a d e r l i e s i n h i s e v o c a t i v e s y n t h e s e s o f v a r i o u s t r a d i t i o n s o f i m a g e r y i n o r d e r t o s y m b o l i z e h i s s p i r i t u a l c o n c e p t s . 224 CHAPTER V : FOOTNOTES See G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s s y m b o l i c a e , " p p . 1 6 3 - 1 9 2 ; Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 1 3 1 - 1 5 1 . 2 See C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 5 7 - 9 1 ; M a r e n - S o f i e R ^ s t v i g , " A r s a e t e r n a : R e n a i s s a n c e P o e t i c s and T h e o r i e s o f D i v i n e C r e a t i o n , " M o s a i c , I I I , n o . 2 ( W i n t e r 1 9 7 0 ) , p p . 4 0 - 6 1 ; Y a t e s , F r e n c h A c a d e m i e s , p p . 3 6 - 9 6 ; S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 5 - 6 3 , 1 3 2 - 1 3 5 . 3 I n a d d i t i o n t o t h e w o r k s c i t e d i n n o t e s 1 and 2 a b o v e , see Weber, C r e a t i o n p o g t i q u e , p p . 1 0 7 - 1 5 0 , 4 6 3 - 4 6 5 ; W i n d , Pagan M y s t e r i e s , p p . 1 - 2 5 ; and K r i s t e l l e r , P h i l o s o p h y . o f M a r s i l i o F i c i n o , p p . 9 2 - 1 2 0 . 4 Rosemund T u v e , E l i z a b e t h a n and M e t a p h y s i c a l I m a g e r y : R e n a i s s a n c e P o e t i c and T w e n t i e t h - C e n t u r y C r i t i c s ( C h i c a g o : U n i v e r s i t y o f C h i c a g o P r e s s , 1 9 4 7 ) , p p . 1 2 , 2 1 . ^ C a v e , D e v o t i o n a l P o e t r y , p . 5 8 . L a B o d e r i e ' s a d o p t i o n o f N e o - P l a t o n i s t t h e o r i e s o f v e i l e d t r u t h was a c c e n t u a t e d by i n c o r p o r a t i o n i n h i s work o f P o s t e l l i a n i l l u m i n i s t s y m b o l s , f o r w h i c h s e e S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p a s s i m . ^ F o r p o e t i c and m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s " a s s o c i a t e d w i t h m o r a l r e f o r m and m y s t i c a l a s p i r a t i o n see above p . 5 4 , n . 4 9 . g See T u v e , E l i z a b e t h a n and M e t a p h y s i c a l I m a g e r y , p p . 1 1 5 , 1 4 5 - 1 7 9 . T h i s term i s u s e d i n q u i t e a d i f f e r e n t s e n s e f r o m R o n s a r d ' s " s i g n i f i a n t , " f o r w h i c h see Weber, C r e a t i o n p o g t i q u e , p p . 1 4 6 - 1 4 7 . I t i s n o t e d t h a t O d e t t e de M o u r q u e s , M e t a p h y s i c a l , b a r o q u e and p r e c i e u x p o e t r y ( O x f o r d : C l a r e n d o n P r e s s , 1 9 5 3 ) , p p . 4 8 - 4 9 , c o n s i d e r s L a B o d e r i e i n h e r c h a p t e r on " M e t a p h y s i c a l P o e t r y . " 9 T u v e , i b i d . , p . 5 3 , r e l a t e s t h i s c o n c e p t o f u t p i c t u r a p o e s i s t o t h e o t h e r a r t s i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e , c i t i n g the e x t r e m e example o f t h e emblem. F o r t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e emblem as a h i e r o g l y p h i c s i g n f a v o u r e d by N e o - P l a t o n i s t s and m y s t i c s , see M a r i o P r a z , S t u d i e s i n S e v e n t e e n t h I m a g e r y , 2nd e d . r e v . , S u s s i d i E r u d i t i , 16 (Roma: 225 E d i z i c m i d i S t o r i a e L e t t e r a t u r a , 1 9 6 4 ) , p p . 1 - 2 3 . F o r F i c i n o ' s a p p r e c i a t i o n o f h i e r o g l y p h s as t h e most p e r f e c t , s y m b o l s , " d e s i d g e s p l a t o n i c i e n n e s r e n d u e s v i s i b l e s , " s e e C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 7 1 - 7 9 . C f . T u v e , E l i z a b e t h a n and M e t a p h y s i c a l I m a g e r y , p p . 7 8 , 2 2 2 - 2 2 4 . She e m p h a s i z e s t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f t h e r h e t o r i c a l commonplace o f t h e "garment o f s t y l e " a n a l o g o u s t o t h e " b o d y i n g - f o r t h o r m a n i f e s t a t i o n " o f t h e s o u l by t h e f l e s h : " ' P o e t r y d e a l s w i t h u n i v e r s a l s ' o p e r a t e d t o make o f images s o m e t h i n g w h i c h one must a l w a y s b e a t l e a s t r e a d y t o r e a d as s y n e c d o c h e r a t h e r t h a n as d e s c r i p t i o n . R e a d i n g on a f i g u r a t i v e l e v e l has t o be s u s t a i n e d r a t h e r t h a n i n t e r m i t t e n t . " " . . . 1 t h i n k t h a t a l l m e t a p h o r , and p e r h a p s o t h e r t r o p e s , had t h e n more o f t h e c h a r a c t e r we s h o u l d now c a l l s y m b o l i c . " 1 1 Raymond, I n f l u e n c e de R o n s a r d , p p . 2 7 5 - 2 7 8 . 12 F o r a s i m i l a r o r i e n t a t i o n i n E n g l i s h R e n a i s s a n c e p o e t r y , s e e T u v e , E l i z a b e t h a n and M e t a p h y s i c a l I m a g e r y , p p . 8 6 , 1 5 1 . 13 See f o r example T u v e , E l i z a b e t h a n and M e t a p h y s i c a l I m a g e r y , p p . 1-26 and p a s s i m ; G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s s y m b o l i c a e , " p p . 1 6 3 - 1 6 7 ; H . C . Gadamer, " S i m b o l o e a l l e g o r i a " i n Umanesimo e s i m b o l i s m o ( P a d o v a : Cedam, 1 9 5 8 ) , p p . 2 9 - 3 3 ; S c h m i d t , " H a u t e s c i e n c e e t p o g s i e , " p p . 4 7 - 4 8 . 14 See T u v e , E l i z a b e t h a n and M e t a p h y s i c a l I m a g e r y , p p . 1 8 0 - 1 9 1 . E n r i c o C a s t e l l i , e d . , Umanesimo e s i m b o l i s m o , p p . 1 1 - 1 2 , makes t h i s p o i n t : " . . . i l s i g n i f i c a t o e l a f u n z i o n e d e l s i m b o l i s m o n e l mondo d e l l ' U m a n e s i m o . . . . I I s i m b o l o non s e r v e a d i m o s t r a r e q u a l c o s a , ma a p e r s u a d e r e q u a l c u n o ; q u e l l ' u o m o c o n c r e t o che e i l c e n t r o d e g l i s t u d i a h u m a n i t a t i s . " G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s s y m b o l i c a e , " p p . 1 6 8 , 1 7 0 . 1 6 I b i d . , p p . 1 6 8 - 1 7 0 , 1 7 7 - 1 7 8 . 17 C f . C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 5 7 - 5 9 , 8 1 - 9 1 . F o r t h e c i r c l e as t h e p e r f e c t f i g u r e and t h e r e f o r e t h e most s u i t a b l e f o r c h u r c h a r c h i t e c t u r e , see A n t h o n y B l u n t , A r t and A r c h i t e c t u r e i n F r a n c e , 1500-1700 ( L o n d o n : P e n g u i n , 1 9 5 3 ) , p . 5 2 . 18 C f . C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p . 7 2 ; and G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s s y m b o l i c a e , " p p . 1 7 1 - 1 7 3 . 226 19 r C f . D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 26 ; E n c y c l i e , p p . 8 6 - 9 2 . C f . E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 0 3 - 1 0 5 ; G a l l i a d e , f o l . 7 8 V - 7 9 r ; Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 1 6 9 v ; D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 5 3 r . 21 See above p . 1 0 6 . 22 v C f . Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 171 . 23 E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 1 2 - 1 1 3 , f o r w h i c h s e e above p . 8 8 . 24 C h a s t e l , M a r s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p . 8 2 , c l a r i f i e s F i c i n o ' s " E v o c a t i o n du ' t e m p l e ' l u m i n e u x de D i e u dans l ' u n i v e r s " a s - " l * i d e e , e s s e n t i e l l e p o u r l a R e n a i s s a n c e , que l ' e t e n d u e d o i t e t r e s a i s i e comme une s t r u c t u r e h a r m o n i e u s e q u i se d i l a t e dans l a l u m i e r e . " 2 5 I b i d . , p p . 8 3 - 8 4 , 1 7 6 . 26 See G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s s y m b o l i c a e , " p . 177; and C h a s t e l , ; M a f s i l e F i c i n e t l ' a r t , p p . 5 7 - 5 9 . C f . a l s o G a l l i a d e , f o l . 8 6 r , 9 1 v - 9 2 r . 27 C f . R c ^ s t v i g , " A r s a e t e r n a , " p p . 4 4 - 4 8 . 28 See G o m b r i c h , " I c o n e s s y m b o l i c a e , " p p . 1 8 4 , 1 8 0 . 29 C f . above p . 1 8 2 . 30 S p i t z e r , C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony,, p . 1 3 . 31 I b i d . , p . 6 4 . See a l s o K . H e n i n g e r , J r . , "Some R e n a i s s a n c e V e r s i o n s o f t h e P y t h a g o r e a n T e t r a d , " S t u d i e s i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e , V I I I ( 1 9 6 1 ) , p p . 7 - 3 5 . C f . a l s o G a l l i a d e , f o l . 7 9 v , 8 6 r . 32 C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p p . 1 2 , 6 7 . The r e l a t i o n s h i p o f t h e q u a t e r n i t y t o c i r c u l a r m a n d a l a as p r i m i t i v e and u n c o n s c i o u s f i g u r i n g o f u n i t y , p e r f e c t i o n and t o t a l i t y i s made c l e a r i n C a r l G . J u n g , P s y c h e and S y m b o l , e d . V . S . de L a s z l o , ( G a r d e n C i t y , N . Y . : D o u b l e d a y , 1 9 5 8 ) , p p . 2 1 , 3 1 , 3 6 , 3 1 9 . 33 See above p p . 1 4 6 - 1 4 7 . 227 34 C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony, p . 6 9 . 35 F o r p s e u d o - D i o n y s i u s , see New C a t h o l i c E n c y c l o p e d i a , v o l . 1 1 , p p . 9 4 3 - 9 4 4 . 36 S e c r e t , E s o t e r i s m e , p a s s i m , h a s c l a r i f i e d many o b s c u r e r e f e r e n c e s d e r i v i n g f r o m t h e Z o h a r and P o s t e l ' s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f i t as i n c o r p o r a t e d i n L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k . On p p . 1 0 3 - 1 0 8 , he c o n s i d e r s , f o r e x a m p l e , L a B o d e r i e ' s p r a i s e o f t h e v i r g i n i n c h a n t s r o y a u x o f t h e Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s t h r o u g h images o f t h e a r k , t h e u n i q u e b i r d f r o m t h e e a r t h l y p a r a d i s e a t t h e p o l e , t h e J e w i s h p e a r l and t h e m y s t i c b u t t e r f l y . 37 C f . P i c o ' s t r e a t m e n t o f t h e same theme i n h i s H e p t a p l u s (On t h e D i g n i t y o f Many; On B e i n g and t h e One; H e p t a p l u s , L i b r a r y o f L i b e r a l A r t s , 227 [ I n d i a n a p o l i s : B o b b s - M e r r i l l , 1 9 6 5 ] , p p . 6 3 - 1 7 4 . 38 F o r a s t u d y o f t h e i m a g e r y o f t h e S e p h i r o t h , s e e S c h o l e m , Ori t h e K a b b a l a h and i t s S y m b o l i s m , p p . 4 1 - 4 3 , 1 0 0 - 1 1 7 . See a l s o L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e S e p h i r o t h i n t h e m u s i c a l c o n t e x t o f h i s d e d i c a t i o n t o t h e H a r m o n i e du monde, and i n t h e G a l l i a d e , f o l . 9 1 r - v . 39 v C f . D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 85 f f ; E n c y c l i e , p . 1 2 1 ; G a l l i a d e , f o l . 6 4 r - 6 5 r . 4 ° See W i n d , Pagan M y s t e r i e s , p p . 154 f f . C f . G a l l i a d e , f o l . 6 0 V , 6 4 r v . See a l s o E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 1 5 , 1 2 1 , 1 2 8 - 1 3 3 ; G a l l i a d e , f o l . 6 4 r - 6 7 r ; D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 1 0 7 r ; Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l . 1 7 6 r - v . 228 CHAPTER V I CONCLUSION I t i s c l e a r t h a t among F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e w r i t e r s i n t h e P l a t o n i c - H e r m e t i c t r a d i t i o n , Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e m e r i t s a p l a c e a p a r t . A t once t y p i c a l o f a R e n a i s s a n c e o r i e n t a t i o n o f t h o u g h t and a h i g h l y s i n g u l a r example o f t h a t o r i e n t a t i o n , he may be r e a d as one o f t h e s i x t e e n t h - c e n t u r y h e r m e t i c p o e t s who e l e c t e d , as S c h m i d t p u t s i t i n h i s " H a u t e s c i e n c e e t p o e s i e , " t o " t r a d u i r e l e cosmos q u ' i l s e p r o u v e n t e t e x p l o r e n t en une gnose t r a d i t i o n n e l l e p a r l e f o n d e t p e r s o n n e l l e p a r l e s t y l e . " He i s n o t e w o r t h y , f u r t h e r m o r e , b o t h f o r t h e r i c h n e s s o f t h e e s o t e r i c t r a d i t i o n s on w h i c h he drew and f o r h i s c o n c e p t i o n o f a new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m w h i c h he a t t e m p t e d t o i l l u s t r a t e by r e f e r e n c e t o t h e s e t r a d i t i o n s . We hope t o have shown t h a t b o t h t h e t h e m a t i c and i m a g i s t i c b a s e s o f L a B o d e r i e ' s work r e l a t e t o t h e f i f t e e n t h - c e n t u r y F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t s y n c r e t i s t t r a d i t i o n o f a d d u c i n g t h e a n c i e n t wisdom o f 229 t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a f o r a p o l o g e t i c p u r p o s e s , and o f i n t e r p r e t i n g t h e " v e i l e d t r u t h " o f t h e i r images as s y m b o l s o f an e t e r n a l v e r i t y . I n t h i s e n d e a v o u r L a B o d e r i e f o l l o w e d t h e example o f e a r l y F r e n c h h u m a n i s t s s u c h as L e f e v r e d ' E t a p l e s . Thus t h e r e i s e v i d e n t i n h i s work a c e r t a i n l i b e r a l i s m o f s p i r i t a s s o c i a t e d w i t h an e a r l y R e n a i s s a n c e a p o l o g e t i c i d e a l i s m and o p t i m i s m w h i c h c o u l d c o n c e i v e o f a r e c o n c i l i a t i o n o f d i v e r s e r e l i g i o u s and c l a s s i c a l p h i l o s o p h i c t r a d i t i o n s . I n a d d i t i o n , as a p o s t - T r i d e n t i n e C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n C a t h o l i c a p o l o g i s t , L a B o d e r i e s o u g h t t o e m p h a s i z e h i s o r t h o d o x y b y r e f e r e n c e t o s u c h C h u r c h F a t h e r s as E u s e b i u s o r C l e m e n t o f A l e x a n d r i a who had a c c e p t e d t h e h e r m e t i c and N e o - P l a t o n i c g n o s e s . Inasmuch as he was t h e o u t s t a n d i n g o r i e n t a l i s t o f h i s day and s u b s t i t u t e f o r G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l i n w o r k on t h e P o l y g l o t B i b l e o f A n t w e r p , L a B o d e r i e was a b l e to p e n e t r a t e more d e e p l y t h a n h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s i n t o t h e a r c a n e m y s t e r i e s o f e a s t e r n t r a d i t i o n s , e s p e c i a l l y t h e J e w i s h K a b b a l a h . C a t h o l i c " s c i e n t i f i c " a p o l o g e t i c s was L a B o d e r i e ' s mode o f e x p r e s s i n g a s y m b o l i c i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e r e l a t i o n s h i p s b e t w e e n man, h i s u n i v e r s e and h i s G o d . Such an i n t e r p r e t a t i o n i s r e l a t e d t o a h u m a n i s t and N e o - P l a t o n i s t d e s i r e t o d i s c o v e r a p e r v a s i v e o r d e r e d harmony e s t a b l i s h e d on b a s e s more e x t e n s i v e t h a n t h e d o c t r i n e o f any one C h u r c h . I n a l l , i t i s a p p a r e n t t h a t L a B o d e r i e chose t o p r o v e by r e f e r e n c e t o t h e m u l t i p l i c i t y o f t r a d i t i o n s c i t e d b y s y n c r e t i z i n g R e n a i s s a n c e w r i t e r s , t h e u n i t y o f t r u t h and t h e f o u n d a t i o n s o f a u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y . 230 W r i t i n g i n an age o f r e l i g i o u s s t r i f e , L a B o d e r i e c o n c e i v e d h i s E n c y c l i e as a d i d a c t i c work w h i c h w o u l d b r i n g harmony t o t h e r e a l m . By " r e a s o n e d " arguments b a s e d on t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t t r a d i t i o n and b y i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e v e i l e d t r u t h s o f t h e p r i s c a t h e o l o g i a , p r i n c i p a l l y t h e K a b b a l a h , he hoped t o i n d u c e f r e e - t h i n k e r s and P r o t e s t a n t s t o r e t u r n t o t h e s t a b i l i t y o f t h e C h u r c h . Thus e x p l a n a t i o n s o f c r e a t i o n and o f man's c o s m i c r o l e a r e b a s e d on P l a t o n i c c o n c e p t s o f an anima mundi and o f i n n a t e i d e a s , and on t h e N e o - P l a t o n i s t h i e r a r c h y o f c r e a t i o n w h i c h i m p l i e s F i c i n o ' s primum i n a l i q u o g e n e r e . The w h o l e i s a s s i m i l a t e d t o C h r i s t i a n d o c t r i n e o f C h r i s t t h e W o r d , the M e d i a t o r , and t h e A r c h e t y p e o f man t h e m i c r o c o s m . I t i s i l l u m i n a t e d f i n a l l y by a p r e s e n t a t i o n o f m y s t i c a l u n i o n w h i c h combines N e o - P l a t o n i s t s p i r i t u a l v i s i o n , C h r i s t i a n l o v e and t h e K a b b a l i s t mors o s c u l i . N e o - P l a t o n i s t arguments o f t h e e s t h e t i c p e r f e c t i o n o f t h e w o r l d , s u g g e s t e d e a r l y i n t h e E n c y c l i e , a r e complemented a t t h e end by a d e t a i l e d p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e J e w i s h T a b e r n a c l e as s y m b o l o f t h a t p e r f e c t i o n , a s y m b o l d i v i n e l y o r d a i n e d t o be r e v e a l e d t o i n i t i a t e s who t h r o u g h l e a r n i n g and v i r t u e had a t t a i n e d t o a s u p r a - i n t e l l e c t u a l s p l e n d o u r o f v i s i o n . The w o r k o f t h e p o e t , " d o c t e e t v e r t u e u x " and d i v i n e l y i n s p i r e d , i s t h u s j u s t i f i e d as P l a t o n i c harmony o f t h e s p h e r e s i s r e l a t e d t o K a b b a l i s t c i r c u l a r l y e m a n a t i n g S e p h i r o t h i n a g l o r i f i c a t i o n o f t h e p e r f e c t U n i t y and o f u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y . The p o e t ' s s h a p i n g v i s i o n o f p e r f e c t i o n o f c i r c u l a r f o r m and c y c l i c a l movement s u g g e s t e d i n t h e t i t l e , E n c y c l i e , i s s e e n t o be drawn f r o m a c o m p o s i t e o f t r a d i t i o n s i n o r d e r t o f i g u r e f o r t h t h e h a r m o n i o u s u n i f i c a t i o n w h i c h i t was h i s a p o l o g e t i c p u r p o s e t o e n c o u r a g e 231 among h i s c o m p a t r i o t s . A r e l a t e d c y c l i c a l o r d e r i n g has b e e n d i s c e r n e d i n t h e " t h e o l o g i e r e s o l u t i v e " o f t h e G a l l i a d e . I n t h i s work t h e o r t h o d o x y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s p r e s e n t a t i o n i s even more q u e s t i o n a b l e t h a n i n t h e E n c y c l i e , a l t h o u g h t h e a r d o u r o f h i s d e s i r e t o u n i t e t h e F r e n c h n a t i o n i n a t i m e o f i n c r e a s i n g r e l i g i o u s and p o l i t i c a l chaos i s even more f e r v e n t . Showing a h i s t o r i c a l i m a g i n a t i o n t y p i c a l more o f m e d i e v a l t h a n o f R e n a i s s a n c e w r i t e r s , L a B o d e r i e c o n c e i v e d a u n i v e r s a l h i s t o r y d e r i v i n g f r o m B i b l i c a l a c c o u n t s and a d a p t e d t o a n a t i o n a l p s e u d o - h i s t o r y o f t h e G a u l s . To t h i s he r e l a t e d P o s t e l ' s p r o p h e t i c i l l u m i n i s m b a s e d l a r g e l y on t h e l a t t e r ' s r e a d i n g o f t h e K a b b a l i s t Z o h a r . The w o r k was d e s i g n e d n o t as a n a t i o n a l i s t e p i c , h o w e v e r , b u t r a t h e r as an i l l u s t r a t i o n o f d i v i n e w i l l , o f t h e p e r f e c t i o n i m p l i e d i n a c y c l i c a l o r d e r i n g w h i c h i n d i c a t e s a r e t u r n f r o m m u l t i p l i c i t y t o t h e One. Thus t h e F r e n c h m o n a r c h , s a i d t o be d e s c e n d e d f r o m t h e G a l l i c o r i g i n a t o r s o f a l l a r t s and s c i e n c e s a f t e r t h e F l o o d , i s r e p r e s e n t e d as d i v i n e l y c h o s e n t o l e a d h i s p e o p l e t o u n i f i c a t i o n i n the one t r u e C a t h o l i c C h u r c h a t t h a t t i m e o f r e b i r t h o f t h e a r t s and s c i e n c e s . The p r i n c i p l e s o f u n i q u e n e s s and o f r e n e w a l i n t h e s p i r i t u a l as w e l l as t h e t e m p o r a l r e a l m s a r e r e p r e s e n t e d by t h e f i g u r e o f t h e p h o e n i x a t t r i b u t e d t o H e n r y I I I . I n t h e n a t i o n a l i s t i c G a l l i a d e , as i n t h e a p o l o g e t i c E n c y c l i e , L a B o d e r i e ' s m o t i v a t i o n and h i s method have b e e n shown t o be h i s b e l i e f i n a u n i v e r s a l harmony w h i c h c o u l d be i l l u s t r a t e d and p r o v e d by h i s e n l i g h t e n e d r e f e r e n c e t o the a n c i e n t f a t h e r s , t h e p r i s c i t h e o l o g i who 232 had p r e s e n t e d one t r u t h v e i l e d b y a m u l t i p l i c i t y o f i m a g e s . The s t u d y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s s h o r t e r w o r k s as w e l l as o f h i s d e d i c a t o r y p r e s e n t a t i o n s o f h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s has i n d i c a t e d a c o m p a r a b l e p u r p o s e i n a l l h i s p o e t i c p r o d u c t i o n . I n s p i t e o f t h e a n a c h r o n i s m o f many o f h i s a t t i t u d e s a t a t i m e when C o p e r n i c a n t h e o r i e s and numerous s c i e n t i f i c and g e o g r a p h i c d i s c o v e r i e s were s h a p i n g a new c o n s c i o u s n e s s i n W e s t e r n man, i n t h e p r e s e n t work L a B o d e r i e has been c o n s i d e r e d a w r i t e r t y p i c a l o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e . We hope t o have s u p p o r t e d t h i s a s s e r t i o n b y d e m o n s t r a t i o n o f h i s p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n i t s e s s e n t i a l s p i r i t , t h a t o f an e n t h u s i a s t i c r e v i v a l , n o t o n l y o f c l a s s i c a l a n t i q u i t y b u t o f a l l known a s p e c t s o f a n t i q u i t y , i n c l u d i n g t h e n o n - c l a s s i c a l and e v e n a n t i - r a t i o n a l c u r r e n t s w h i c h some c r i t i c s have c o n s i d e r e d t o be m a r g i n a l . The u s e s o f t h e p a s t were many. F o r L a B o d e r i e , as f o r many o f h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s i n t h e R e p u b l i c o f L e t t e r s , a n c i e n t wisdom was t o be t h e k e y t o an i d e a l i s t i c c o n c e p t o f man's e s s e n t i a l r o l e i n f u l f i l l i n g t h e d i v i n e w i l l o f u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y . Man t h e m i c r o c o s m was t o be a t t u n e d t o h i s own e s s e n c e t h r o u g h s e l f - k n o w l e d g e ; he was t o be a t t u n e d t o t h e macrocosm t h r o u g h h i s " s c i e n t i f i c " and o c c u l t k n o w l e d g e ; f i n a l l y , he was t o be r e - a t t u n e d t o t h e d i v i n e harmony p e r c e p t i b l e t o p r e l a p s a r i a n man t h r o u g h h i s v i r t u o u s d e v o t i o n t o and p a r t i c i p a t i o n i n C h r i s t i a n m y s t i c l o v e . L a B o d e r i e ' s u s e o f t h e P l a t o n i c - H e r m e t i c t r a d i t i o n has t h u s been shown, i n t h e p r e s e n t s t u d y , t o be c o n s i s t e n t w i t h h i s p r i m a r i l y a p o l o g e t i c p u r p o s e as a C o u n t e r - R e f o r m a t i o n p o e t . 233 I t has b e e n s u g g e s t e d i n t h e p r e s e n t work t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s most o r i g i n a l c o n t r i b u t i o n t o F r e n c h p o e t r y o f t h e R e n a i s s a n c e was h i s c o n c e p t i o n o f a new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m w h i c h he i l l u s t r a t e d by h i s p r e s e n t a t i o n o f h i m s e l f as t h e new O r p h e u s / D a v i d , and w h i c h he a t t e m p t e d t o e n c o u r a g e i n h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s b y f r e q u e n t e x h o r t a t i o n s t o f o l l o w t h e example o f t h o s e i n s p i r e d and e t h i c a l l y - i n f l u e n t i a l p o e t - p r i e s t s o f a n t i q u i t y . I n Orpheus L a B o d e r i e f o u n d n o t o n l y t h e c e n t r a l m y t h o l o g i c a l f i g u r e o f F l o r e n t i n e N e o - P l a t o n i s t p o e t i c t h e o l o g y b u t a l s o a f i g u r e o f a p o e t - m u s i c i a n whose p r e s t i g e was e q u a l t o t h e P l e " i a d e p o e t s ' e x p e c t a t i o n s a n d , most i m p o r t a n t t o L a B o d e r i e h i m s e l f , a f i g u r e whose a r t i s t i c power was r e p r e s e n t e d as c a p a b l e o f e n c h a n t i n g n a t u r e i t s e l f . The new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m w h i c h L a B o d e r i e e x t o l l e d was t o be p r i m a r i l y p e r s u a s i v e i n p u r p o s e as was h i s own w o r k . F o r i t s t r a n s m i s s i o n o f an e x t r a - p e r s o n a l u n i v e r s a l t r u t h , an O r p h i c power i n s p i r e d b y d e v o t i o n t o t h e One, t h e t r u e d i v i n i t y , w o u l d a l o n e be e f f e c t i v e i n m o v i n g t h e o b d u r a t e a t h e i s t s and P r o t e s t a n t s who, i n L a B o d e r i e ' s v i e w , were s e e n t o be o b s t r u c t i n g r e s t o r a t i o n o f a u n i v e r s a l harmony. Thus L a B o d e r i e ' s c h o i c e o f Orpheus t h e i n s p i r e d s i n g e r has been s e e n as r e p r e s e n t a t i v e o f a n e v o l v i n g c o n c e r n f o r m u s i c a l and p o e t i c " e f f e c t s " w h i c h was r e l a t e d t o t h e aims o f t h e B a i f Academy o f P o e t r y and M u s i c . T h i s c o n c e r n f o u n d e x p r e s s i o n n o t o n l y i n L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n s o f t h e P s a l m s and o f e c c l e s i a s t i c a l hymns b u t a l s o i n h i s a n a l y s e s o f m u s i c a l i n t e r v a l s and h a r m o n i e s and o f t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p 234 t o P y t h a g o r e a n , P l a t o n i c and K a b b a l i s t c o s m o l o g y and m e t a p h y s i c s . I n s h o r t , we h a v e p r o p o s e d t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s a s s u m p t i o n o f h i s p o e t i c r o l e as t h e new Orpheus i s i n d i c a t i v e o f h i s c o n c e r n f o r m u s i c a l and p o e t i c " e f f e c t s " t o be used f o r an a p o l o g e t i c p u r p o s e c o m p a r a b l e t o t h a t o f a Du B a r t a s . That e x t r a - p e r s o n a l c o n c e p t o f C h r i s t i a n p o e t r y h a s b e e n c o n s i d e r e d a c o n s t i t u t i v e e l e m e n t i n t h e d e v e l o p m e n t d u r i n g t h e l a t e s i x t e e n t h and e a r l y s e v e n t e e n t h c e n t u r i e s i n F r a n c e o f a more i n t i m a t e r e l i g i o u s p o e t r y . Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e has l o n g been d i s r e g a r d e d as a p o e t i z e r whose h u m a n i s t p h i l o l o g i c a l e r u d i t i o n d e t r a c t e d f r o m r a t h e r t h a n enhanced t h e v a l u e o f h i s p o e t i c p r o d u c t i o n , w h i c h was compounded o f d i v e r s e r e l i g i o u s , p h i l o s o p h i c and o c c u l t t r a d i t i o n s . On t h i s f o u r h u n d r e d t h a n n i v e r s a r y o f h i s f i r s t p u b l i c a t i o n , we s u g g e s t t h a t he d e s e r v e s r e c o g n i t i o n n o t o n l y as a s c h o l a r t y p i c a l o f a R e n a i s s a n c e d e s i r e t o r e v i v e a n t i q u i t y i n o r d e r t o d e m o n s t r a t e new p o t e n t i a l f o r human d e v e l o p m e n t , b u t a l s o as a p o e t c o n c e r n e d t o d e f i n e and t o i l l u s t r a t e t h e p o e t ' s r o l e i n t h e r e s t o r a t i o n to man o f h i s p r i m a l and e s s e n t i a l d i g n i t y , i n t h e r e - c r e a t i o n o f man and h i s u n i v e r s e t h r o u g h i m i t a t i o n o f t h e e s s e n t i a l u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n i e s . 235 BIBLIOGRAPHY I . ORIGINAL WORKS AND TRANSLATIONS BY GUY LE FEVRE DE LA BODERIE C o n f u s i o n de l a s e c t e de Muhamed . . . , p a r J e h a n A n d r e . . . [ t r . Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ] . P a r i s , 1574. De l a n a t u r e des d i e u x , [ p a r C i c e r o n , t r . Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ] . P a r i s , 1 5 8 1 . De l a r e l i g i o n c h r e s t i e n n e , p a r M a r s i l e F i c i n , avec L a Harangue de l a d i g n i t e de 1'homme, p a r J e a n P i c u s . . . . [ t r . Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ] . P a r i s , 1578. D i c t i o n a r i u m s y r o - c h a l d a ' i c u m . . . , Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e . A n t v e r p i a e , 1572. D i s c o u r s de l ' h o n n e s t e amour s u r l e Banquet de P l a t o n , p a r M a r s i l e F i c i n . . . [ t r . Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ] . P a r i s , 1578. D i v e r s e s meslanges p o e t i q u e s . P a r i s , 1 5 8 2 . L ' E n c y c l i e des s e c r e t s de l ' e t e r n i t e ; A n v e r s , 1570. L a G a l l i a d e , ou De l a r e v o l u t i o n des a r t s e t s c i e n c e s . P a r i s 1578. L ' H a r m o n i e du monde, p a r F r a n c o i s George . . . [ t r . Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ] . P a r i s , 1578. Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , c a n t i q u e s s p i r i t u e l s e t a u t r e s m e s l a n g e s p o e t i q u e s . P a r i s , 1578. 236 Novum J e s u C h r i s t i D . N . Testamentum . . . , [ t r . Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ] . P a r i s i i s , 1584. T r a i c t e du nouveau comete . . . , p a r H i e r o n y m e Mugnoz, . . . , [ t r . Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ] , p l u s u n C a n t i q u e s u r l a d i c t e E s t o i l l e ou A p p a r e n c e l u m i n e u s e . P a r i s , 1574. L e s T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e , avec une A p o l o g i e p o u r l a medecine e t a s t r o l o g i e . . . , p a r M a r s i l l e F i c i n e . . . [ t r . Guy Le F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e ] . P a r i s , 1 5 8 1 . I I . L I S T OF WORKS CITED A l l e n , Don Cameron. 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" G u i l l a u m e B o n i , de S a i n t - F l o u r en A u v e r g n e , m u s i c i e n de R o n s a r d , " i n M e l a n g e s o f f e r t s a M . A b e l L e f r a n c . . . . P a r i s : D r o z , 1936, p p . 2 7 0 - 2 8 1 . Du V e r d i e r , A n t o i n e . B i b l i o t h e q u e . . . . L y o n ^ 1 5 8 5 . F e b v r e , L u c i e n . Au c o e u r r e l i g i e u x du s e i z i e m e s i e c l e . P a r i s : S e v p e n , 1957. . Le P r o b l e m e de l ' i n c r o y a n c e au X V I s i e c l e . P a r i s : M i c h e l , 1942. F e s t u g i e r e , J e a n . L a P h i l o s o p h i e de 1'amour de M a r s i l e F i c i n e t s o n i n f l u e n c e s u r l a l i t t e r a t u r e f r a n c a i s e au X V I e s i e c l e . E t u d e s de p h i l o s o p h i e m e d i e v a l e , 3 1 . P a r i s : V r i n , 1 9 4 1 . —• . L a R e v e l a t i o n d'Hermes T r i s m e g i s t e . 3 r d e d . 4 v o l s . P a r i s : L e c o f f r e , 1 9 5 0 . F r a n c h e t , H e n r i . 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E t u d e s de p h i l o s o p h i e e t d ' h i s t o i r e , 1 0 . G e n e v e : D r o z , 1969. . " G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l e t l e s c o u r a n t s p r o p h e t i q u e s de l a R e n a i s s a n c e , " S t u d i f r a n e e s i , I I I ( 1 9 5 7 ) , 3 7 5 - 3 9 5 . 242 • G u i l l a u m e P o s t e l (1510-1581) e t s o n " I n t e r p r e t a t i o n du C a n d e l a b r e de M o y s e " en h e b r e u , l a t i n , i t a l i e n e t f r a n c a i s . . . N i e u w k o o p : de G r a a f , 1 9 6 6 . . "Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e , r e p r e s e n t a n t de G . P o s t e l a l a P o l y g l o t t e d ' A n v e r s , " De G u l d e n P a s s e r , X L I V ( 1 9 6 6 ) , 2 4 5 - 2 5 7 : . " L ' H u m a n i s m e f l o r e n t i n , v u p a r un k a b b a l i s t e c h r e t i e n , Guy L e F e v r e de L a B o d e r i e , " R i n a s c i m e n t o , I ( 1 9 5 4 ) , 1 0 5 - 1 1 2 . . " L e s J e s u i t e s e t l e k a b b a l i s m e c h r e t i e n a l a R e n a i s s a n c e , " B i b l i o t h e q u e d'Humanisme e t R e n a i s s a n c e , XX ( 1 9 5 8 ) , 5 4 2 - 5 5 5 . . L e s K a b b a l i s t e s Chretiens de l a R e n a i s s a n c e . P a r i s : D u n o d , 1964. . " P i c o d e l l a M i r a n d o l a e g l i i n i z i d e l l a c a b a l a C h r i s t i a n a , " C o n v i v i u m , X X V , Nuove S e r i e ( 1 9 5 7 ) , 3 1 - 4 7 . . " L e Z o h a r c h e z l e s k a b b a l i s t e s Chretiens de l a R e n a i s s a n c e , " Memoires de l a S o c i e t e des E t u d e s J u i v e s , I I I . P a r i s : D u r l a c h e r , 1958. S m i t h , P a u l i n e M . The A n t i - C o u r t i e r T r e n d i n S i x t e e n t h C e n t u r y F r e n c h L i t e r a t u r e . T r a v a u x d'Humanisme e t R e n a i s s a n c e , L X X X I V . Geneve: D r o z , 1 9 6 6 . L e S o l e i l a l a R e n a i s s a n c e : s c i e n c e s e t m y t h e s . C o l l o q u e i n t e r n a t i o n a l t e n u en a v r i l 1963 s o u s l e s a u s p i c e s de l a F e d e r a t i o n I n t e r n a t i o n a l e des I n s t i t u t s e t S o c i e t e s p o u r 1 ' E t u d e de l a R e n a i s s a n c e e t du M i n i s t e r e de 1 ' E d u c a t i o n N a t i o n a l e e t de l a C u l t u r e de B e l g i q u e . U n i v e r s i t e L i b r e de B r u x e l l e s . T r a v a u x de l ' I n s t i t u t p o u r l ' E t u d e de l a R e n a i s s a n c e e t de l ' H u m a n i s m e , I I . P a r i s : P r e s s e s U n i v e r s i t a i r e s de F r a n c e , 1 9 6 5 . S p i t z e r , L e o . C l a s s i c a l and C h r i s t i a n I d e a s o f W o r l d Harmony: a P r o l e g o m e n a t o an I n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f t h e Word " S t i m m u n g , " e d . Anna G r a n v i l l e H a t c h e r . B a l t i m o r e : Johns H o p k i n s P r e s s , 1 9 6 3 . T i l l y a r d , E . M . W. The E l i z a b e t h a n W o r l d P i c t u r e . New Y o r k : Random H o u s e , [ c l 9 4 3 ] . T u v e , Rosemond. E l i z a b e t h a n and M e t a p h y s i c a l I m a g e r y : R e n a i s s a n c e P o e t i c and T w e n t i e t h - C e n t u r y C r i t i c s . C h i c a g o : U n i v e r s i t y o f C h i c a g o P r e s s , 1 9 4 7 . Umanesimo e e s o t e r i s m o . A t t i d e l V . Convegno I n t e r n a z i o n a l e d i S t u d i U m a n i s t i c i , O b e r h o f e n , 16-17 s e t t e m b r e , 1960. P a d o v a : Cedam, 1960. 243 Umanesimo e s i m b o l i s m o . A t t i d e l I V . Convegno I n t e r n a z i o n a l e d i S t u d i U m a n i s t i c i , V e n e z i a , 1 9 - 2 1 s e t t e m b r e , 1 9 5 8 . P a d o v a : Cedam, 1960. W a l k e r , D a n i e l P . " L e Chant O r p h i q u e de M a r s i l e F i c i n , " i n M u s i q u e e t p o e s i e au X V I s i e c l e . P a r i s : C e n t r e N a t i o n a l de R e c h e r c h e S c i e n t i f i q u e , 1954, p p . 1 7 - 3 3 . . " O r p h e u s t h e T h e o l o g i a n and R e n a i s s a n c e P l a t o n i s t s , " J o u r n a l o f t h e Warburg and C o u r t a u l d I n s t i t u t e s , X V I ( 1 9 5 3 ) , 1 0 0 - 1 2 0 . . "The P r i s c a T h e o l o g i a i n F r a n c e , " J o u r n a l o f t h e Warburg and C o u r t a u l d I n s t i t u t e s , X V I I ( 1 9 5 4 ) , 2 0 4 - 2 5 9 . . S p i r i t u a l and Demonic M a g i c f r o m F i c i n o t o C a m p a n e l l a . S t u d i e s o f t h e W a r b u r g I n s t i t u t e , X X I I . L o n d o n : Warburg I n s t i t u t e , 1958; N e n d e l n / L i c h t e n s t e i n : K l a u s R e p r i n t , 1 9 6 9 . ^ e Weber, H e n r i . L a C r e a t i o n p o e t i q u e au X V I s i e c l e en F r a n c e , de M a u r i c e Sceve a A g r i p p a d ' A u b i g n e . 2 v o l s . P a r i s : N i z e t , 1 9 5 5 . . " Y a - t - i l une p o e s i e h e r m e t i q u e au X V I s i e c l e en F r a n c e ? " C a h i e r s de 1 ' A s s o c i a t i o n I n t e r n a t i o n a l e des E t u d e s F r a n c a i s e s , XV (mars 1 9 6 3 ) , 4 1 - 5 8 . W i n d , E d g a r . Pagan M y s t e r i e s i n t h e R e n a i s s a n c e . R e v . e d . New Y o r k : B a r n e s and N o b l e , 1968 [ c l 9 6 7 ] . Y a t e s , F r a n c e s . F r e n c h Academies o f t h e S i x t e e n t h C e n t u r y . L o n d o n : Warburg I n s t i t u t e , 1 9 4 7 . . G i o r d a n o Bruno and t h e H e r m e t i c T r a d i t i o n . L o n d o n : R o u t l e d g e and Kegan P a u l , 1964. e Z a n t a , L e o n t i n e . L a R e n a i s s a n c e du s t o i c i s m e au X V I s i f e c l e . P a r i s : C h a m p i o n , 1914. 244 APPENDIX VERSIFICATION A l t h o u g h L a B o d e r i e p r e s e n t s h i m s e l f as t h e "new O r p h e u s " t h e m u s i c a l " e f f e c t s " o f whose v e r s e a r e t o c o n t r i b u t e t o a s p i r i t u a l r e n e w a l o f t h e F r e n c h n a t i o n , h i s p o e t i c t e c h n i q u e i s n o t e q u a l t o h i s m o r a l p u r p o s e . The e f f e c t i v e n e s s o f h i s v e r s e d e r i v e s more f r o m h i s s y m b o l i c i m a g e r y t h a n f r o m h i s v e r s i f i c a t i o n . W i t h some n o t a b l e e x c e p t i o n s t h e a l e x a n d r i n e s , w h i c h b e a r t h e w e i g h t o f e r u d i t i o n o f t h e a p o l o g e t i c and d i d a c t i c E n c y c l i e and G a l l i a d e , a r e monotonous i n t h e i r r e g u l a r i t y . The s h o r t e r v e r s e c o m p r i s e s e x e r c i s e s i n m e d i e v a l f i x e d forms i n w h i c h L a B o d e r i e had e x c e l l e d i n p r o v i n i c a l p o e t i c p u y , t o g e t h e r w i t h " c a n t i q u e s , " " h y m n e s , " " e " p i t a p h e s " as w e l l as a n " e l e g i e , " s e v e r a l odes and many s o n n e t s . I m i t a t i o n s o f t h e P s a l m s and o f C a t h o l i c " e c c l e s i a s t i c a l hymns" d e s i g n e d t o a t t r a c t p e o p l e t o t h e C a t h o l i c c a u s e t h r o u g h t h e i r m u s i c a l e f f e c t s and t h u s t o c o u n t e r a c t t h e e f f e c t s o f t h e P r o t e s t a n t hymns f a l l s h o r t o f t h e i r p u r p o s e inasmuch 245 as t h e b u r d e n o f e a r n e s t e r u d i t i o n i n L a B o d e r i e ' s work d e t r a c t s f r o m t h e s i m p l i c i t y w h i c h was t o be f o u n d i n M a r o t ' s more p o p u l a r i m i t a t i o n s . I n s h o r t , t h e p r e s e n t work p r o p o s e s t h a t as v e r s i f i e r L a B o d e r i e was hampered by h i s h a b i t s o f e r u d i t e p h i l o l o g i a n and o f c o n t e s t a n t i n p r o v i n c i a l p o e t i c p u y . F o r h i s v e r s i f i c a t i o n as f o r h i s t h e m a t i c c o n t e n t L a B o d e r i e r e l i e d p r e d o m i n a n t l y on l a t e m e d i e v a l and e a r l y R e n a i s s a n c e p r e d e c e s s o r s i n t h e s e r v i c e o f h i s c o n c e p t o f a new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m . THE ALEXANDRINE F o r h i s two m a j o r w o r k s , t h e E n c y c l i e and t h e G a l l i a d e , L a B o d e r i e c h o s e t h e s o l e m n r h y t h m o f t h e a l e x a n d r i n e , t h e c a e s u r a f a l l i n g r e g u l a r l y a f t e r t h e s i x t h s y l l a b l e . The v e r s e s a r e a r r a n g e d i n r h y m i n g c o u p l e t s w i t h a l t e r n a t i n g m a s c u l i n e and f e m i n i n e r h y m e s , and s e t f o r t h n o t i n s t a n z a s , b u t i n p a r a g r a p h s a c c o r d i n g t o t h e c o n t e n t . The r e g u l a r a l e x a n d r i n e i s f o r t h e most p a r t w e l l s u i t e d t o L a B o d e r i e ' s p u r p o s e o f d i d a c t i c and " s c i e n t i f i c M p r e s e n t a t i o n o f t h e wisdom o f t h e a n c i e n t s and o f h i s h i s t o r i c a l and m i l l e n a r i a n message f o r a p o l o g e t i c e n d s . H i s e x p l a n a t i o n o f t h e " e n c y c l i e , " f o r e x a m p l e , i s r h y t h m i c a l l y s i m p l e as b e f i t s i t s i m a g e , t h e d i v i s i o n o f t h e s e c o n d h e m i s t i c h even 246- e n h a n c i n g t h e c i r c l i n g e f f e c t i n t h e f o l l o w i n g d e f i n i t i o n o f t h e " e n c y c l i e " : E t b i e n que m e i n t E s p r i t c h a n t o u r n e en s o n c o u v e r c l e Comme l a dormante eau peu a p e u , c e r c l e a c e r c l e , Comme l e j e t d ' u n c a i l l o u commence d ' o n d o y e r E t de l a p l u s au l o i n g p l y s u r p l y d e p l o y e r . . • ( E n c y c l i e , p . 103) I n t h e f o l l o w i n g e x a m p l e , L a B o d e r i e ' s v i s i o n o f u n i v e r s a l harmony i s f i g u r e d r h y t h m i c a l l y as w e l l as v i s u a l l y i n t h e dynamic s t a b i l i t y o f t h e r e g u l a r l y r e p e a t e d r h y t h m i n w h i c h he c a l l s on h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s t o f a s h i o n a new p o e t i c . The r e g u l a r b r e a k a t t h e c a e s u r a h e r e enhances t h e c a l l f o r an o r d e r e d harmony o f "nombreuses p a r o l l e s " w h i c h s h o u l d r e f l e c t and h e l p t o l e a d men t o a v i s i o n o f u n i v e r s a l harmony evoked i n t h e P l a t o n i c m u s i c o f t h e s p h e r e s . The v e r s e s a r e d i v i d e d 6 / 6 : F a i t e s - m o y t o u r n o y e r p a r nombreuses p a r o l l e s E t l e s e s p r i t s m o u v a n t s , e t du C i e l l e s c a r o l l e s : E n t o n n e z es t u y a u x des Orgues l o n g s e t r o n d s Des C i e u x o r g a n i s e z l a M u s i q u e e t l e s t o n s : F a i t e s s u r l e c l a v i e r d ' u n e douce E s p i n e t e M a r c h e r d ' o r d r e e t de r a n g P l a n e t e a p r e s P l a n e t e Sous l e b a l du g r a n d C i e l . . . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 1 r ) The r e g u l a r i t y o f t h e l i n e may be b r o k e n f o r r h e t o r i c a l e f f e c t , f r o m t h e s t r a i g h t f o r w a r d use o f r h e t o r i c a l d e v i c e s : Quoy? a d m i r e s - t u p o i n t en t o y s i grande chose? ( E n c y c l i e , p . 80) H e ! q u i o r r o i t a u s s i d ' a s s e s s u b t i l l e O r e i l l e S i c l a i r e Symphonie . . . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 105) 247 t o t h e emphasis a c h i e v e d by m o d i f i c a t i o n s o f a r e p e a t e d s u b j e c t : L ' U n , l e B o n , 1 ' E t e r n e l , l ' I m m o b i l , l ' I n f i n i . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 133) A v e c l e S o u v e r e i n T o u t - G r a n d , T o u t - B o n , T o u t - B e a u . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 326) L a B o d e r i e shows t h e g r e a t e s t f r e e d o m i n h i s u s e o f t h e a l e x a n d r i n e , and a c h i e v e s t h e r e b y h i s g r e a t e s t l y r i c p o w e r , when he abandons h i s s e r i o u s d i d a c t i c i s m t o c h a n t a p e r s o n a l i n v o c a t i o n . The a r d o u r o f h i s b r e a t h l e s s d e s i r e f o r u l t i m a t e t r u t h i s h e a r d i n t h e l i n e d i v i s i o n s and t h e enjambment o f an i n v o c a t i o n t o h i s muse U r a n i e , f o r e x a m p l e : U s e r a y - j e e n v e r s t o y du nom C e l e s t e , 6 Muse? A s s u r e , a s s u r e m ' e n , 6 ma S i b y l l e , e t b o u t e Dehors de mes e s p r i t s ou l a V i e , ou l e d o u t e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 109) I n t h e above example L a B o d e r i e ' s n o r m a l 6/6 l i n e d i v i s i o n i s m o d i f i e d t o d i v i s i o n s o f 6 / / 4 / 2 , 2 / 4 / / 4 / 2 and 6 / / 3 / 3 . The enjambment, u n u s u a l i n L a B o d e r i e ' s w o r k , o f " e t b o u t e / D e h o r s de mes e s p r i t s " s e r v e s t o a r o u s e t h e r e a d e r ' s a t t e n t i o n . I m i t a t i o n o f t h e P s a l m s g i v e s t o t h e h i s t o r i c a l c h r o n i c l e o f t h e G a l l i a d e a l y r i c a l e n t h u s i a s m , as t h e a l e x a n d r i n e i s b r o k e n t o s e c o n d a r y d i v i s i o n s o f 1 / 1 / 4 , 1 / 1 / 4 and 1 / 1 / 4 , 4 / 2 i n t h e f o l l o w i n g e x c e r p t : Sus s u s , P s a l t e r i o n , sus sus 6 Harpe e n c o r e , T o s t t o s t r e s v e i l l e z - v o u s , j ' e s v e i l l e r a y l ' A u r o r e . . . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 3 r ) I n an i n v o c a t i o n t o t h e d i v i n i t y i s to be h e a r d L a B o d e r i e ' s most s u c c e s s f u l u s e o f t h e a l e x a n d r i n e . H e r e t h e i n t e n s i t y o f L a B o d e r i e ' s 248 d e s i r e t o be i n f u s e d w i t h an O r p h i c power i s t r a n s m i t t e d i n l i n e s r e g u l a r l y b r o k e n a t t h e c a e s u r a b u t whose v a r i o u s s e c o n d a r y d i v i s i o n s o f 3 / 3 , 1 / 5 , 4 / 2 , 2 / 2 / 2 and 2/4 demands t h e r e a d e r ' s a t t e n t i o n t o t h e p o e t ' s e m o t i o n : 0 S a g e s s e ! 6 V e r t u q u ' e n s i l e n c e j ' a p p e l l e ! 0 L u m i e r e ! 6 Beaute" des b e a u t g s l a p l u s b e l l e Q u i f u t onques f o r m g e ! 6 V i e ! 6 V e r i t e ! 0 l a p r e m i e r e V o i s de l a D i v i n i t y ! V o i s , q u i p a r l e J a r d i n du Monde t e p o u r m e i n e s , U n i q u e V o i s i n f u s e en t o u t e s l e s S d r a i n e s Q u i c h a n t e n t dans l e Choeur du b e a u Temple de D i e u : 0 S a i n t , 6 S a i n t , 6 S a i n t , t a g l o i r e e s t en t o u t l i e u . I n s p i r e , i n s p i r e - m o y q u ' u n j o u r de t a l o u a n g e J e r e m p l i s s e l e C i e l , l ' O n d e e t l a T e r r e e s t r a n g e . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 120-121) I n summary, we p r o p o s e t h a t whereas L a B o d e r i e ' s u s e o f t h e r e g u l a r a l e x a n d r i n e b r o k e n a t t h e c a e s u r a f o r h i s e x p o s i t i o n o f t h e p h i l o s o p h i c a l , h i s t o r i c a l and a p o l o g e t i c c o n t e n t o f t h e E n c y c l i e and t h e G a l l i a d e i s f o r t h e most p a r t u n e x c e p t i o n a l , he does o c c a s i o n a l l y m o d i f y t h a t monotonous r e g u l a r i t y w i t h t h e e f f e c t o f c o n v e y i n g a l y r i c a l h e i g h t e n i n g o f t h e v e r s e . Examples o f t h a t h e i g h t e n i n g a r e t o be f o u n d i n h i s i n v o c a t i o n s t o h i s muse U r a n i e o r t o t h e D e i t y , and i n h i s a p o s t r o p h e s t o c o n t e m p o r a r y p o e t s t o f o r m a C h r i s t i a n p o e t i c a c c o r d i n g t o t h e example o f D a v i d . L a B o d e r i e ' s u s e o f t h e r e g u l a r a l e x a n d r i n e i n h i s s h o r t e r p i e c e s s u c h as v a r i o u s " d i s c o u r s , " " c a n t i q u e s , " " g p i t a f e s , " " e l e g i e s " and " h y m n e s , " b o t h o r i g i n a l and t r a n s l a t e d , shows no s i g n i f i c a n t d i f f e r e n c e f r o m i t s u s e i n t h e m a j o r w o r k s . The l i n e i s d i v i d e d r e g u l a r l y 6 / 6 . He u s e s c o n s i s t e n t l y r h y m i n g c o u p l e t s w i t h a l t e r n a t i n g 249 m a s c u l i n e and f e m i n i n e r h y m e s , w i t h t h e e x c e p t i o n o f t h e " E p i t a p h e de l ' a u t e u r " ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 1 9 V f f . ) i n w h i c h t h e rhyme scheme i s a b b a . THE DECASYLLABIC L I N E I n s e v e r a l s h o r t e r p i e c e s e n t i t l e d " c a n t i q u e , " " e p i t a f e " o r " d i s c o u r s " L a B o d e r i e u s e s t h e t e n - s y l l a b l e l i n e r e g u l a r l y d i v i d e d 4 / 6 . I n t h e s e t h e rhyme scheme i s v a r i e d . He uses f o r t h e most p a r t t h e r h y m i n g c o u p l e t , as i n t h e " C a n t i q u e s u r l a n o u v e l l e e s t o i l e " p u b l i s h e d w i t h t h e T r a i c t e . s u r l e nouveau c o m e t e . However t h e s e t e n - s y l l a b l e l i n e s may rhyme a b a b , as i n t h e " C a n t i q u e t o u r n e s e l o n l ' H e b r i e u du C h a p . 26 d ' E s a y e " ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 334 f f . ) o r t h e " E p i t a f e de f e u M a i s t r e . . . l e R o n d " ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 2 4 V f f . ) . The " C o m p l a i n t e a D i e u " ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 301 f f . ) i s a r r a n g e d i n a more complex v e r s e p a t t e r n o f a b b a c c c c . I n a l l cases L a B o d e r i e uses a l t e r n a t i n g m a s c u l i n e and f e m i n i n e r h y m e s . DEVICES ASSOCIATED WITH THE GRANDS RHETORIQUEURS I n h i s m a j o r w o r k s L a B o d e r i e i s c a p a b l e o f m a k i n g e f f e c t i v e u s e o f d e v i c e s w h i c h he l e a r n e d f r o m t h e s t y l e o f t h e Grands R h e t o r i q u e u r s 250 f a v o u r e d a t t h e p r o v i n c i a l p u y . R e p e t i t i o n and v a r i a t i o n s on words o f t h e same r o o t and a l l i t e r a t i o n , f o r e x a m p l e , c a n enhance an i n v o c a - t i o n o r a m e d i t a t i o n i n w h i c h t h e p o e t a t t e m p t s t o s u g g e s t a m y s t i c a l r e m o v a l f r o m m u l t i p l i c i t y t o u n i t y . I n h i s m e d i t a t i o n on t h e m y s t i c a l mors o s c u l i , f o r e x a m p l e , L a B o d e r i e r e p e a t s " m o r t " and " b a i s e r " w i t h v a r i a t i o n s on t h e " a m o u r " w h i c h i s t h e i r b o n d , e m p h a s i z i n g w i t h a s s o n a n c e and a l l i t e r a t i o n t h e u n i t y he s e e k s : Douce M o r t , s a i n t e M o r t ou p l u t o s t V i e h e u r e u s e Ou l ' E s p o u s v i e n t b a i s e r s o n E s p o u s e amoureuse: 0 B a i s e r s a v o u r e u s , 6 B a i s e r a s s o u v y , Ou l ' A m a n t e e s t r a v y e , e t s o n amy r a v y , 0 h e u r e u s e v r a y m e n t 1'amoureuse q u i t o u c h e P a r un b a i s e r s a c r £ d'Amour mesme l a b o u c h e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 129) I n t h e above q u o t a t i o n d e a t h by t h e k i s s , b o t h sweet and h o l y , i s shown t o be i n r e a l i t y an i n t e n s i f i e d l i f e made e c s t a t i c b y h o l y l o v e . Thus t h e h o l y d e a t h - i n - l i f e i s c o n s e c r a t e d by t h e s a c r e d k i s s w h i c h , w i t h a s s o n a n t a l i n s i s t e n c e i s shown t o be b o t h s w e e t , " s a v o u r e u s , " and p a r t a k i n g o f d i v i n e c o m p l e t i o n , " a s s o u v y . " The dynamic as w e l l as t h e e s s e n t i a l q u a l i t i e s o f l o v e a r e p o r t r a y e d t h r o u g h i n s i s t e n c e on t h e l o v e r , t h e l o v e d one and l o v e i t s e l f , " l ' A m a n t e , " " 1 ' a m o u r e u s e , " " s o n amy" and "Amour mesme." A s s o n a n c e o f t h e sound [u] t h r o u g h o u t t h e p a s s a g e s e r v e s t o enhance t h e t o n e o f r a v i s h m e n t . I n s i s t e n t r e p e t i t i o n o f t h e c o n s o n a n t a l sounds [ m ] , [ v ] , [ s ] , and [ z ] s e r v e a g a i n t o i n t e n s i f y t h e t o n e o f c o m p l e t e f u l f i l m e n t i n u n i o n . R e p e t i t i o n and p l a y on t h e sound o f a word c a n a l s o be u s e d 251 t o r e i n f o r c e a m a j o r i m a g e : 0 n o n - e n c e r c l e C e r c l e e n c e r c l a n t 1 ' E n c y c l i e ! ( E n c y c l i e , p . 118) Le S o l e i l , l e s e u l - O e i l q u i t o u t l e Monde e c l a i r e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 101) B e s i d e t h e p a s s a g e s c i t e d a b o v e , h o w e v e r , s h o u l d be c i t e d t h o s e i n w h i c h e x a g g e r a t i o n o f s u c h d e v i c e s o f f e n d s t h e modern e a r : E t m ' e n c o r d a n t c o r d e r ma c o r d e aus t r o i s c o r d o n s ; ( E n c y c l i e , p . 1115) A i n s i r e g a r d e s - t u a t r a v e r s l a l u m i e r e Du M o b i l e m o u v a n t , 1 ' I m m o b i l e e t p r e m i e r e . C ' e s t l e m i r o i r de l ' A m e , a u q u e l e s t r e m i r e , Du b e a u S o l e i l d i v i n l e r a y o n a d m i r e . ( E n c y c l i e , p . 119) I n t h e above p a s s a g e s t h e h a r s h " - c o r d - " conveys n o t h i n g o f t h e harmony L a B o d e r i e s e e k s t o a t t a i n , n o r does t h e " - m i r - " r e f l e c t t h e s p l e n d o u r o f t h e e t e r n a l l i g h t evoked i n t h e r e p e a t e d [m] o f " l u m i e r e , " " M o b i l e m o u v a n t , " " I m m o b i l e " " p r e m i e r e " and " A m e . " L a B o d e r i e ' s p e n c h a n t f o r w o r d - p l a y may be e x p l a i n e d i n p a r t b y h i s t r a i n i n g as a . ' l i n g u i s t . H i s c o n t i n u a l use o f anagrams o r "noms r e t o u r n e s " l i n k s h i m a l s o w i t h l a t e m e d i e v a l t r a d i t i o n s o f t e c h n i c a l v i r t u o s i t y as he makes n o t o n l y anagrams o f names s u c h as " s e r e d o r e r P i n d a r e " f o r P i e r r e de R o n s a r d ( E n c y c l i e , p . 2 5 ) , b u t a l s o an a c r o s t i c on " J e s u s C h r i s t de D i e u l e f i l s s a u v e u r c r o i s " ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 2 6 8 - 2 6 9 ) . A g a i n t h e h a b i t s o f c o n t e s t a n t i n t h e j e u x f l o r a u x c a n be f o u n d i n t h e i n t r o d u c t i o n o r " a v a n t - j e u " t o t h e E n c y c l i e w h i c h i s c o n s t r u c t e d e n t i r e l y on e c h o i n g rhyme: 252 Q u i me f e r a c e r t a i n d ' u n i n c e r t a i n dmoy? M o y . Q u i es t u q u i r£ponds? c a r p o i n t j e ne t e v o y ? O y . Dy q u i t u e s , a f i n q u ' e n v a i n j e ne m'amuse. M u s e . U s e r a y - j e e n v e r s t o y du nom C e l e s t e , 6 M u s e . U s e . ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 27^28) We hope t o have shown t h a t a l t h o u g h L a B o d e r i e o c c a s i o n a l l y a d a p t s t o good a d v a n t a g e t h e s t u d i e d t e c h n i q u e s a s s o c i a t e d w i t h l a t e f i f t e e n t h c e n t u r y F r e n c h p o e t s , on t h e w h o l e h i s use o f s u c h o v e r w o r k e d d e v i c e s i s s t u l t i f y i n g . The a n a c h r o n i s m o f h i s e x p r e s s i o n i s r e s t r i c t i v e r a t h e r t h a n l i b e r a t i n g i n e f f e c t , and i s t h u s i n c o n t r a d i c t i o n w i t h t h e c o n c e p t o f a new C h r i s t i a n l y r i c i s m . FORMS L a B o d e r i e ' s s h o r t e r w o r k s show l i t t l e d i v e r s i t y i n f o r m . M o s t o f t h e s e t r a n s l a t i o n s and o r i g i n a l w o r k s , w h e t h e r t h e y a r e e n t i t l e d " h y m n e , " " c a n t i q u e , " " d i s c o u r s , " " e p i t a f e , " " t o m b e a u , " c o m p l a i n t e , " " c h a n t " o r even " e l e g i e " a r e i n r e g u l a r a l e x a n d r i n e s o f r h y m i n g c o u p l e t s w i t h a l t e r n a t i n g m a s c u l i n e and f e m i n i n e r h y m e s , o r i n r e g u l a r t e n - s y l l a b l e l i n e s d i v i d e d 4/6 and r h y m i n g a / b / a / b . O n l y a few o f t h e above forms a r e a r r a n g e d i n s t a n z a s . The s t a n z a f o r m i s f o u n d i n t h e h u i t a i n s o f t h e " C h a n t en forme d ' e p i s t r e d e d i c a t o i r e " t o t h e E n c y c l i e , t h e e i g h t e e n - l i n e s t a n z a o f t h e " C a n t i q u e . . . aus p o e t e s de s o n temps" ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 1 8 9 - 2 0 1 ) , o r t h e s i x t e e n - l i n e s t a n z a o f t h e " C a n t i q u e s u r l a n o u v e l l e e s t o i l l e " ( T r a i c t e du nouveau c o m e t e , n . p . ) . I n t h e 253 l a t t e r two p i e c e s t h e l a s t c o u p l e t o f t h e s t a n z a forms a r e f r a i n . A s e r i e s o f c h a n t s r o y a u x (Hymnes e c c l e s i a s t i q u e s , f o l 237 f f . and E n c y c l i e , p p . 341 f f . ) a r e c o n s t r u c t e d r e g u l a r l y i n t e n - l i n e s t a n z a s o f t e n - s y l l a b l e l i n e s , w i t h an added l i n e w h i c h forms t h e r e f r a i n . Each " c h a n t r o y a l " c o n c l u d e s w i t h an " e n v o y " a d d r e s s e d t o t h e " P r i n c e du P u y . " The " e n v o y " i s r e g u l a r l y f o u r t e n - s y l l a b l e l i n e s , w i t h t h e l i n e w h i c h has formed t h e r e f r a i n t h r o u g h o u t . O n l y t h r e e examples o f L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f t h e ode c a n be c i t e d . I n each he a d o p t s t h e t r i p a r t i t e f o r m o f " s t r o p h e , " " a n t i s t r o p h e " and " e p o d e . " These odes a r e t h e o n l y examples o f L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f o t h e r t h a n a t w e l v e - o r a t e n - s y l l a b l e l i n e . The "Ode a une p e r s o n n e desvoyge . . . " ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l . 21 f f . ) and t h e "Ode a M a r t i n de M a s p a r r a u l t e . . . " ( E n c y c l i e , p p . 201-202) a r e i n s e v e n - s y l l a b l e m e t r e , r h y m i n g abab w i t h a l t e r n a n c e o f m a s c u l i n e and f e m i n i n e r h y m e s . The l o n g "Ode au S e i g n e u r T h e v e t A n g o u m o i s i n Cosmographe du R o y " ( D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s , f o l 5 0 V f f . ) uses t h e e i g h t - s y l l a b l e l i n e w i t h r h y m i n g c o u p l e t s o f a l t e r n a t i n g m a s c u l i n e and f e m i n i n e rhyme. Many s o n n e t s p u b l i s h e d i n t h e D i v e r s e s m e s l a n g e s and w i t h t h e E n c y c l i e , t h e G a l l i a d e , t h e T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e and t h e T r a i c t e du nouveau comete a r e w i t n e s s t o L a B o d e r i e ' s d e s i r e t o a d o p t t h i s r e l a t i v e l y new f o r m . The s o n n e t s a r e on t h e F r e n c h p a t t e r n as i n t r o d u c e d by M a r o t and u s e d by R o n s a r d , t h e two t e r c e t s each h a v i n g a rhyme i n t h e f i r s t two l i n e s and b e i n g l i n k e d t o each o t h e r by the r h y m i n g f i n a l l i n e s i n a p a t t e r n o f c c d e e d . L a B o d e r i e ' s s u c c e s s f u l use o f t h i s f o r m i n t h e 254 s o n n e t s appended t o h i s t r a n s l a t i o n o f F i c i n o ' s T r o i s l i v r e s de l a v i e has b e e n n o t e d by J e a n R i c h e r ( N e r v a l , p p . 5 3 3 - 5 3 5 ) . TRANSLATIONS OF THE PSALMS L a B o d e r i e ' s d e s i r e t o a t t r a c t h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s t o t h e C a t h o l i c f a i t h t h r o u g h new t r a n s l a t i o n s o f t h e P s a l m s c a n be s e e n i n t h e c o n t e x t o f h i s N e o - P l a t o n i s t c o n c e r n f o r r e - e s t a b l i s h i n g a u n i v e r s a l h a r m o n y : Donq de m o t e t s d i v i n s e t c a n t i q u e s t r e s s a i n t s F a i t e s que s e s a c c o r d s dans l e c o r p s s o i e n t a t t e i n t s , E t l ' y e n t r e t e n e z p a r une n o u r r i t u r e Q u i de n a t u r e s o i t conforme a s a n a t u r e . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 0 r ) S o ' t o o , L a B o d e r i e ' s r e p e a t e d r e c a l l i n g o f h i s d e s i r e t o renew an " O r p h i c " power b y a c h i e v i n g e t h i c a l l y - i n f l u e n t i a l e f f e c t s t h r o u g h r h y t h m i c v e r s e s h o u l d be c o n s i d e r e d as a s p i r i t u a l r a t h e r t h a n a p r o s o d i c c o n c e r n . L a B o d e r i e ' s a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h t h e Academy o f B a i f c a n t h u s be u n d e r s t o o d , i n so f a r as h i s t r a n s l a t i o n s o f P s a l m s i s c o n c e r n e d , as one o f common ends r a t h e r t h a n o f s i m i l a r means. There i s no e v i d e n c e t o show t h a t L a B o d e r i e p a r t i c i p a t e d i n B a i f ' s a t t e m p t s t o e s t a b l i s h a b a s i s f o r measured v e r s e by e s t a b l i s h i n g r e l a t i o n s h i p s o f l e n g t h between t h e sounds o r i n a s s e m b l i n g s y l l a b l e s i n rhythms d e t e r m i n e d by r u l e s . 0 L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n s o f P s a l m s a r e i n f a c t p r e s e n t e d i n 255 a l e x a n d r i n e s , t h e one v e r s e w h i c h R o n s a r d h a d d e c l a r e d i n a p p r o p r i a t e f o r s e t t i n g t o m u s i c . We p r o p o s e , t h e r e f o r e , t h a t L a B o d e r i e ' s use o f t h e s o l e m n a l e x a n d r i n e was d e s i g n e d to e m p h a s i z e i n them the d i g n i t y and s e r i o u s n e s s o f p u r p o s e w h i c h L a B o d e r i e a t t r i b u t e d t o h i m s e l f as t h e new D a v i d / O r p h e u s , and w h i c h he s o u g h t t o s t i m u l a t e i n c o n t e m p o r a r y p o e t s . H i s e x h o r t a t i o n s t o h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s , " C h a n t e z a 1 ' E t e r n e l un C a n t i q u e n o u v e a u " ( P s a l m 9 6 , p u b l i s h e d w i t h t h e T r a i c t e ' ' du nouveau r—v comete, n . p . ) a d o p t i n t h e G a l l i a d e ( f o l . 106 ) t h e terms o f P s a l m 1 5 0 . A c o m p a r i s o n o f L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f P s a l m 150 w i t h B a i f ' s l a t e r t r a n s l a t i o n i n rhymed v e r s e may s e r v e t o p o i n t o u t d i v e r - gences o f s p i r i t and o f manner between t h e s e two C a t h o l i c p o e t s . B a i f ' s r e n d e r i n g o f P s a l m 150 (Le P s a u l t i e r de 1587, e d . Yves L e H i r , P a r i s : P r e s s e s U n i v e r s i t a i r e s de F r a n c e , 1 9 6 3 , p . 326) i s s i m p l e i n i t s e v o c a t i o n o f t h e i n s t r u m e n t s o f m u s i c a l p r a i s e , l i g h t i n i t s v o w e l s o n o r i t i e s and a l l i t e r a t i o n s o f " 1 , " " t " and " s , " and l i l t i n g i n i t s f i v e - s y l l a b l e v e r s e r h y t h m : Loues l e g r a n d D i e u En s o n s a c r e l i e u . L o u e s - l e au m a n o i r Ferme a s o n p o u v o i r . Loues s a v a l e u r : Loues s a g r a n d e u r . L o u e s - l e du s o n Du g a i l l a r d c l e r o n . L o u e s - l e j o i g n a n s H a r p e e t l u t s o n a n s . L o u e s - l e a l e u r t o u r De f i f r e e t t a m b o u r . L o u e s - l e desus I n s t r u m e n t s t e n d u s . L o u e s - l e b a t a n t 256 C i m b a l e £ c l a t a n t : L o u e s - l e g j o u i s , C i m b a l e s o u i s . Tout ce q u i p r a n d v a n t L o u ' l e D i e u v i v a n t , L o u e s , L o u e s - D i e u : I n c o n t r a s t , L a B o d e r i e ' s t r a n s l a t i o n o f t h e same P s a l m 150 i s w e i g h t e d by d e s c r i p t i v e e l a b o r a t i o n s and by an i n s i s t e n t r e p e t i t i o n o f t h e h e m i s t i t c h "Donnez l u y g l o i r e e t l o s , " and moves s l o w l y t h r o u g h t h e t w e l v e - s y l l a b l e a l e x a n d r i n e v e r s e : L o u e z J o b , l o u e z D i e u en s o n s a i n c t h a b i t a c l e : Dedans l e Firmament de s a f o r c e e t v e r t u S o i t de g l o i r e p a r vous s o n s a i n c t nom r e v e s t u . Donnez l u y g l o i r e e t l o s en s a T o u t e - p u i s s a n c e , Donnez l u y g l o i r e e t l o s en s a g r a n d e u r immense: Donnez l u y g l o i r e e t l o s en l a v o i x du c l e r o n , Donnez l u y g l o i r e en h a r p e e t en p s a l t e r i o n : Donnez l u y g l o i r e e t l o s en tambour e t en f l u s t e , Donnez l u y g l o i r e e t l o s en c h o r d e s q u ' o n a f f u s t e , E t en o r g u e s c o m p l e t s : . Donnez l u y l o s au c r e u x Des cymbales d ' e r a i n , au r e s o n s o n o r e u x , Donnez l u y g l o i r e e t l o s en cymbales q u i r e n d e n t De t r i o n f e une v o i x , e t h a u t l e u r s o n e s t e n d e n t : Que t o u t Entendement donne g l o i r e e t h o n n e u r A Job S e i g n e u r p u i s s a n t , l o u e z Job l e S e i g n e u r . ( G a l l i a d e , f o l . 1 0 6 r _ v ) We c o n c l u d e f r o m t h i s b r i e f a c c o u n t o f L a B o d e r i e ' s v e r s i f i c a t i o n t h a t f o r h i m s e r i o u s n e s s o f p u r p o s e t o o k p r e c e d e n c e o v e r e x p e r i m e n t a t i o n w i t h p o e t i c t e c h n i q u e . F o r t h e most p a r t he p r o p o u n d e d h i s message a t l e n g t h i n t h e a l e x a n d r i n e , v e n t u r i n g sometimes and w i t h some s u c c e s s i n t o t h e s o n n e t f o r m and r e t u r n i n g o f t e n t o w e l l - t r i e d m e d i e v a l f o r m s . L a B o d e r i e ' s c a l l f o r a new s p i r i t u a l c o n t e n t i n p o e t r y was accompanied n e i t h e r b y p r e c e p t s n o r by examples o f a renewed v e r s i f i c a t i o n . 
work_p3tp3ceqv5anzlrgoi3loqat3m	----	RQX_73_4_BookReviews 1428..1429 monuments and textual sources, most known only to a small group of specialists. I hope that it will also help scholars of the Reformation to recognize the riches for the field that are to be found in Denmark. Kristoffer Neville, University of California, Riverside doi:10.1017/rqx.2020.282 Registres du Consistoire de Genève au temps de Calvin, Tome XI (20 février 1556– 4 février 1557). Isabella M. Watt and Jeffrey Rodgers Watt, eds. Travaux d’Humanisme et Renaissance 578. Geneva: Droz, 2017. xlii + 394 pp. $142.68. These registers of the Genevan consistory are particularly interesting. They contain min- utes for the first full year after the victory of John Calvin and his partisans over their oppo- nents, the Enfants of Geneva. They had lost their public charge and been banished, fined, or beheaded in 1555. Larger numbers of French immigrants were admitted to the Genevan bourgeoisie. Calvin and his supporters were in a stronger position than they had been since the consistory was initiated in 1542 as a church court filling gaps left by Roman Catholic ecclesiastical courts after the Genevan Protestant Reformation (1535–36). In this volume for 1556–57, pastors and city councilors appear to act hand in glove. Geneva’s magistrates seemed in agreement with pastors on issues involving sexuality, Nicodemism (camouflag- ing one’s Protestant convictions), and attendance at Catholic Mass by individuals who journeyed outside of Geneva. This was no surprise. Geneva’s magistrates listened to Reformed pastors weekly from seats of honor in front pews. By 1556, Genevan pastors had won the right to control excommunication, denial of participation in quarterly celebrations of the Lord’s Supper, which also barred one from getting married (318) or participating in a baptism (6). Genevans believed denial from the Lord’s Supper risked eternal salvation. Excommunication also risked affecting one’s business or status, but it was rarely for life. Excommunication could be lifted by the consistory if one acquiesced to what the consistory wanted, often repentance for scan- dalous, disruptive, or sinful behavior. Excommunication was designed to bring people into line, not to crush them. Besides excommunication, the consistory approved (or denied) divorce with right to remarry. Only the government, however, could inflict cap- ital punishment: beatings, imprisonment, death, or banishment for incorrigible individ- uals. In 1556–57, the consistory often advanced recalcitrant individuals on to the Small Council of Twenty-Five. The threat of having to appear before the council could have encouraged individuals to repent before the consistory to escape a worse fate. Even before 1555, division between pastors and government officials was less than one would presume, considering that there was a division in Genevan society between French immigrants and native Genevans. Pastors were largely well-educated French RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY1428 VOLUME LXXIII, NO. 4 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:09, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog?doi=10.1017/rqx.2020.283&domain=pdf https://www.cambridge.org/core immigrants. Magistrates were largely less formally educated Genevans. About half of consistory members were from governing councils. Minimizing potential conflict was the consistory bringing together select council members and the pastors, an organiza- tional stroke of genius, encouraging collaboration between Frenchmen and native Genevans. Deliberating together weekly helped to bridge the gap. By 1556, Calvin appeared to be able to tighten the discipline further, expand the consistory’s field of action, and strengthen punishments, but Calvin’s victory was not so complete as to make that easily possible. Jeffrey Watt points out Calvin’s difficulties in his artfully crafted introduction (xv–xxiii). Watt also places consistory records in historical context. Not all Genevans were enthusiastic about the many immigrants and refugees in sixteenth-century Geneva. Some Genevans resisted the discipline French pastors brought, for the consistory condemned not only breeches of the Ten Commandments such as sexual promiscuity or usury (which could be considered a form of stealing) but also castigated people for dancing, gambling, card playing, participating in certain other games, indiscrete songs, and criticizing the pastors or the French. The consistory did not condemn drinking alcohol per se. Indeed, the city partially paid pastors in wine. The consistory did condemn excessive drinking; rowdyism, especially in the inns; and alcoholism. Genevan consistory records are transcribed from some of the most difficult six- teenth-century court reporting. The editors provide a glossary of sixteenth-century French. This volume is indexed in three separate categories: subjects, places, and names of persons. The appendix lists syndics, other officers, dates of the Lord’s Supper for 1556, and members of the Small Council. The Watts thoroughly research Genevan records, including the city council. The copious footnotes identify every locale and individual. Prior and future appearances of individuals before the consistory are noted. Consistory records, useful for doctoral dissertations and scholarly papers, are indispensable for academic libraries, serious scholars, and even church libraries. Jeannine Olson, Rhode Island College doi:10.1017/rqx.2020.283 The Arnhem Mystical Sermons: Preaching Liturgical Mysticism in the Context of Catholic Reform. Ineke Cornet. Brill’s Series in Church History and Religious Culture 77. Leiden: Brill, 2019. x + 400 pp. $204. Of all the excellent courses I took while an undergraduate at Columbia University, the best of all was Marilyn Harran’s class on mysticism, taught at Barnard College. I was familiar with the adage that says mysticism begins rather misty and ends in schism, but this course was so much more than that, with consideration of the inadequacies of REVIEWS 1429 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:09, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_p4ofcica7jhdtagte7aa5coj5q	----	91-104 CULTURA Y NATURALEZA: MONTAIGNE EN AMÉRICA Nature and culture: montaigne in America Vicente Raga Rosaleny* Resumen El examen que del Nuevo Mundo llevó a cabo el escritor francés del Renacimiento tardío Michel de Montaigne, en alguno de sus más famosos ensayos, proporcionó un retrato de la condición humana que rompía con el paradigma aristotélico mantenido por, entre muchísimos otros, el humanista español Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda. Montaigne, usando las mismas fuentes que la mayoría de estudiosos escolásticos de su tiempo, se distanció de la dominante visión peripatética (cristianizada a lo largo de la Edad Media) del hombre, ofreciendo una perspectiva alternativa que podríamos calificar de radicalmente moderna. Palabras clave: Antropología, condición humana, naturaleza, nuevo mundo, escepticismo. Abstract The review of the New World carried out by the French Renaissance writer Michel de Montaigne in some of his most famous essays provided a picture of human condition that broke with the Aristotelian paradigm held by the Spanish humanist Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda and other authors. Montaigne, using the same texts that most of the scholastic scholars of his time used, takes distance from the dominant peripatetic view of man (christianized during the Middle Ages), showing an alternative perspective that we could qualify as radically Modern. Key words: Anthropology, Human condition, Nature, New World, Scepticism. 1. INTRODUCCIÓN La incorporación del Nuevo Mundo a la esfera europea, aunque excedía los límites del paradigma aristotélico contribuyendo a su refutación, ilustró asimismo la transición de un punto de vista que entendía a los indígenas como esclavos por naturaleza a otro que los identificaba como hombres naturales. Si ubicamos a Montaigne en el contexto de los debates llevados a cabo en Europa en la época del Encuentro, llama la atención la modernidad de su retrato del ser humano comparada con la imagen sostenida por los pensadores españoles o franceses, entre otros, que continuaban ligados al paradigma tradicional. El autor de los Essais estaría en el otro extremo del espectro filosófico de un Ginés de Sepúlveda, por ejemplo. Enfrentado a las narraciones sobre el Nuevo Mundo procedentes de la pujante literatura de viajes y de la cosmografía en general, que ilustraban el canibalismo de los indígenas, su idolatría y otras extrañas costumbres que violaban la ley natural, tal y como entendían esta diversos pensadores escolásticos, Montaigne representaría a los indígenas como ejemplos del hombre natural que vive una vida feliz, yuxtaponiendo tal retrato al de la decadencia de los cristianos europeos. Esta imagen de los habitantes del Nuevo Mundo, leída como prolongación natural de la Vicente Raga Rosaleny 92 crítica montaniana al marco escolástico, nos proporcionará el esbozo de una nueva perspectiva sobre la condición humana. Nuestro argumento sugiere, en línea con el de Schaefer y el de Levine, 1 que Montaigne era un escéptico, pero un escéptico con un propósito o finalidad. No iremos tan lejos como Schaefer diciendo que el autor francés estaba construyendo una teoría política igualitaria, o como Levine, argumentando que Montaigne realizó una defensa conscientemente estructurada de la tolerancia; pero sí queremos defender, como esperamos mostrar, que su reflexión sobre el Nuevo Mundo ––conectada a su escepticismo de base–– supuso una contribución relevante a la Filosofía de los inicios de la Modernidad. La reflexión montaniana sobre la naturaleza de los indígenas muestra cómo su escepticismo sirve para hacer borrón y cuenta nueva del punto de vista teológico sobre el hombre imperante en su época, y presentar así una imagen alternativa, derivada de su central estudio del “yo” en los Essais. En esta obra, Montaigne, cuestionando que ninguna escuela filosófica de la Antigüedad hubiera dado una descripción satisfactoria de la naturaleza humana, 2 y rechazando la autoridad normativa de Aristóteles, aprovecha en diversos momentos el contexto del Nuevo Mundo para dar su propio punto de vista. 3 Al afirmar que Montaigne estaba tratando de liberarse del marco tradicional, implícitamente nos estamos oponiendo a la opinión de Todorov, 4 que vería a Montaigne como alguien determinado, en sentido fuerte, por su trasfondo intelectual europeo, en particular por la herencia del mundo clásico presente en su tiempo. Aunque parece poco plausible que alguien logre escapar a cualquier influencia de su entorno, también es cierto que en el caso de Montaigne su punto de vista resulta claramente diferente de aquel que sostienen autores contemporáneos suyos mucho mejor asentados en el paradigma escolástico (paradigma que, como dijimos, el autor de los Essais critica precisamente al hilo de su exposición de la condición del ser humano ejemplificada en el Nuevo Mundo). Así, cabe destacar que el innovador retrato que del hombre plantea el autor francés a propósito del Encuentro entre europeos y americanos enfatiza dos polos de la condición humana, a saber: el de la razón natural, por un lado, y el de la presunción e imaginación, por otro. Estos son descritos en toda su amplitud en I, 31, mediante la 1 Véanse especialmente D. L. Schaefer 1990:114ss; A. Levine 2001:89ss. 2 Véase, por ejemplo, II, 17, 617. Citaremos los Essais de Michel de Montaigne utilizando siempre el mismo sistema: en el cuerpo del texto la cita en nuestra traducción, o simplemente la referencia, como en este caso, y seguidamente indicaremos el libro de los Essais en números romanos, en arábigos el del ensayo en concreto y la página de las Oeuvres complètes en la edición de Gallimard realizada por Thibaudet y Rat (M. de Montaigne, 1962) donde localizar la referencia realizada. La traducción, salvo indicación contraria, es nuestra. 3 Está más allá del alcance de este artículo el ahondar en la cuestión del escepticismo montaigniano, pero puede consultarse, siquiera sea para introducirse en el actual debate al respecto, F. Brahami, 1997, así como L. Eva, 2007; S. Giocanti, 2001:30ss y R. H. Popkin, 1983:82ss. 4 T. Todorov, 1983:116. Cultura y naturaleza: Montaigne en América 93 transformación de los “caníbales” desde su imagen cuasi-idílica al inicio de este ensayo, a la corrupción europea referida al final del mismo texto. La manera en que ese capítulo de la obra montaigniano describe la metamorfosis a que se verían empujados los “caníbales” en su contacto con los europeos se opone a la idea del hombre bueno por naturaleza (que tópicamente se atribuye a Montaigne, entendiendo al autor como un precedente directo de Rousseau), ya que en su ensayo se reconocen desde el principio rasgos buenos y malos en los indígenas. Esta visión de las semillas buenas y malas, ya presentes en la condición humana primitiva, se reafirma en otro ensayo del autor francés, “De los coches” (III, 6), donde Montaigne caricaturiza las acciones de indígenas y españoles para personificar respectivamente cada uno de esos polos de la condición humana. Los indígenas, vistos a la luz del escepticismo con propósito montaigniano, representarían no la imagen del esclavo por naturaleza, según puede verse en Gómara y Sepúlveda, sino la de una especie de patrón fluido del ser humano, un retrato de la condición de este y de sus potencialidades que oscila entre los dos polos que caracterizarían su condición. 2. LA RUPTURA CON LA TRADICIÓN El rechazo de Montaigne a las fuentes de autoridad tradicionales a la hora de juzgar a los caníbales del Nuevo Mundo, sin embargo, no es una cuestión aislada y reducida a dos ensayos, sino que refleja una tendencia propia de todos los Essais y conectaría, como hemos indicado, el escepticismo montaigniano con su reflexión sobre el Nuevo Mundo. Tal escepticismo es el que permite a Montaigne: 1) cuestionar la asunción de que la razón determina unas leyes naturales en un universo estructurado teleológicamente, normas que definen la naturaleza humana de acuerdo con un ideal (cristiano); y, asimismo, 2) criticar la validez de una supuesta jerarquía natural de los seres, que ubica en su pináculo nuevamente al hombre racional, cristiano y escolástico, dejando a aquellos que poseen otras costumbres y modos de vida en un nivel muy inferior y cercano al de los marginados animales. 5 Ergo, el cuestionamiento de la autoridad enmarca las reflexiones de Montaigne sobre el Nuevo Mundo. 6 Al inicio de “De los caníbales”, pide al lector que desconfíe 5 Nos enfrentamos aquí a la lectura de Todorov, en el artículo ya citado, o a la de G. Defaux 1982:949-950, que verían a Montaigne preso en el contexto histórico y cultural europeo de su momento, planteando por nuestra parte la posibilidad de ver en el autor francés una alternativa a las opciones etnocéntricas dominantes. 6 Es importante notar que no somos víctimas en nuestra lectura de la añagaza retórica montaniana. Es algo abrumadoramente establecido por todos los especialistas, que se han dedicado a investigar desde una perspectiva historiográfica las fuentes montanianas en estos ensayos, que montaigniano usa y abusa de las obras de los cosmógrafos en sus textos, Thevet, Léry, Gómara y tantos otros, hasta el punto de que, como indica uno de los más recientes investigadores en estas cuestiones, Weinberg: “apenas podría encontrarse una frase que no tuviese su paralelo en las cosmografías” (B. Weinberg, 1968:262). Sin embargo, y atendiendo a tal evidencia irrefutable, tampoco desearíamos caer en el error opuestamente simétrico de atribuir un carácter falaz a las aseveraciones montaigniano. Si Montaigne hubiera querido engañar a su lector el procedimiento hubiera debido ser más sutil, pero precisamente el exagerado uso del saber libresco en este caso, bien Vicente Raga Rosaleny 94 de las opiniones comunes cuando juzgue a otros, esto es, que sea cuidadoso al aceptar los puntos de vista de la autoridad al juzgar al “otro” reflejado en el título del ensayo, porque tales fuentes, procedentes de la Antigüedad, no podían conocer nada del Nuevo Mundo descubierto en el siglo de Montaigne. Para Montaigne, el principal foco de peligro estaría en Aristóteles, autoridad principal de la que la escolástica derivó gran parte de su conocimiento del hombre. 7 De acuerdo con el pensamiento del autor francés, sin embargo, repetir aseveraciones sobre el mundo realizadas en un prestigioso pasado no es equivalente a tener un conocimiento real de éste. En ese sentido, cabría entender el pasaje sobre la educación en el contexto de la antigua Grecia en I, 25, donde Montaigne implícitamente distingue entre dos tipos de razón. El contraste lo establece el autor francés entre los atenienses, corrompidos por su sistema educativo, y los espartanos, que no cultivaban las letras pero que sin embargo mantenían una virtuosa forma de vida. Y la educación ateniense, que Montaigne critica aquí, vendría a reflejar el estado de decadencia de la Europa contemporánea del autor de los Essais; mientras que la educación que alaba, la espartana, reflejaría el carácter de los caníbales que Montaigne representa en los ensayos anteriormente citados. La descripción de ambos sistemas educativos se relaciona directamente con el contraste entre civilización y naturaleza, que a modo de trasfondo estructural se mantiene a lo largo de todo el texto de “De los caníbales”. Al hilo de tales distinciones, pues, entre una educación que podríamos denominar pedante y otra recta, señala Montaigne ––como hemos anticipado–– dos tipos correlativos de razón, una pedante y otra natural. La razón pedante o escolástica, por un lado, moldearía los hechos para que coincidieran con las creencias dogmáticas previamente asumidas, atormentando al hombre con miedos y llevándole a rechazar cualquier tipo de placer; en suma, la razón pedante aleja al hombre de la naturaleza haciéndolo infeliz. 8 Pero Montaigne no condena completamente a la razón, no se opone per se a ella o a la Filosofía, sino a su abuso mediante el dogma. 9 Habría pues una razón basada en la experiencia, con ejemplos como, por acercarnos a un contexto más familiar, el famoso símil humeano de aquel que poniendo la mano en el fuego una vez la retira apresuradamente para jamás volver a ponerla allí, y cuyo ejercicio podríamos verlo entre los caníbales. Estos no se apoyarían de este modo en el artificio de pseudo- verdades cimentadas por el tiempo y aceptadas a base de una imperfecta autoridad, sino en la experiencia cotidiana. Esta suerte de razón natural es la que daría medios a los seres humanos para vivir felices, frente a las falsas promesas del saber escolástico. conocido para el lector contemporáneo del autor francés, nos señalan más bien el carácter irónico de sus textos y, así, su intencionalidad crítica, lo que abre la vía para nuestra interpretación de un Montaigne contrario a los argumentos de autoridad y partidario de una fenomenología de la experiencia. 7 Para la crítica de Montaigne a Aristóteles puede leerse Ph. Desan 2001:319ss, donde se trata del descontento de Montaigne con la lógica del Filósofo, para una revisión de la crítica de éste a las otras áreas de la Filosofía peripatética puede consultarse T. Gontier 1998:41ss. 8 M. C. Horowitz 1998:206. 9 Véanse R. Sayce 1972:137ss; D. L. Schaefer 1990:114ss y A. Levine 2001:89ss. Cultura y naturaleza: Montaigne en América 95 Y tal distinción permite a Montaigne reinterpretar la naturaleza humana. La crítica a la razón pedante implicaba de suyo que las conclusiones acerca de la naturaleza humana en general, y la de los indígenas en particular, a la que se llegaba mediante el ejercicio de esta, no estaban fundamentadas. Más aún, esto sugiere que siguiendo la “razón natural” llegaremos a conclusiones diferentes. Y ello es lo que se pone inmediatamente en claro al inicio de I, 31. En la primera oración de este ensayo, Montaigne, en un estilo similar al de Bartolomé de las Casas, pone en cuestión el punto de vista según el cual los indígenas son inferiores porque son bárbaros. En un contexto cercano al lector cultivado de su época, asimilando al “caníbal” que da título al ensayo ––y que es el término empleado en muchos casos para referirse a los habitantes del Nuevo Mundo–– al extranjero de la antigua Grecia, manifiesta que lo que comúnmente se entiende como “bárbaro” no necesariamente corresponde a lo que puede verse en la práctica, en la experiencia vivida: Cuando el rey Pirro pasó a Italia, tras reconocer la formación del ejército que los romanos habían enviado contra él, exclamó: “No sé quiénes son estos bárbaros” (ya que los griegos llamaban así a todos los pueblos extranjeros), “pero la formación de este ejército no es bárbara en absoluto” (I, 31, 200). Igual que Pirro reconoció que el ejército enviado contra él no tenía nada de bárbaro, pese a lo que dijesen las autoridades clásicas, tras verlo con sus ojos, experimentándolo, así el lector, realizando la conexión a la que sin duda alude Montaigne entre ese término y el empleado para los habitantes del Nuevo Mundo, reconocerá que los caníbales no son en absoluto tales, esto es, que no son inferiores, al dejar de lado el conocimiento pedante. Con ello el autor francés pone en duda la validez de la dicotomía superior-inferior, inherente al paradigma tradicional, para abrir un proceso escéptico generalista a desarrollar en el contexto del Nuevo Mundo. Siguiendo con este argumento, tras poner en alerta al lector sobre la posible falibilidad de la autoridad de los antiguos en relación con los bárbaros, Montaigne pone de manifiesto que tales fuentes del pasado no se aplicaban correctamente al Nuevo Mundo, ya que “personajes mucho más importantes que nosotros mismos se han equivocado acerca de este” (I, 31, 200). Y así, primero privilegia el valor del conocimiento nuevo, el que mostraba por la experiencia de los “viajes de los modernos” que el Nuevo Mundo no era una isla y, por lo tanto, que no podía ser la Atlántida que imaginó Platón. Su siguiente objetivo fue Aristóteles, cuyos errores históricos y geográficos no dudó en poner de relieve el autor francés. De este modo, frente a la búsqueda de apoyo en fuentes tradicionales, como las que usaban Sepúlveda y los demás autores destacados que atendieron los problemas generados por el descubrimiento del Nuevo Mundo, Montaigne sugería la necesidad de apostar por una suerte de escepticismo con propósito que reemplazase al asentimiento dogmático por un conocimiento de tipo experimental. Los indígenas serían, por sí mismos, el mejor ejemplo y paradigma de que los Antiguos podían estar equivocados, y Vicente Raga Rosaleny 96 sus testimonios no serían suficientes para poder juzgar los interrogantes a propósito del ser humano planteados por el Nuevo Mundo. 3. LA CRÍTICA DE LA NATURALEZA HUMANA La investigación montaigniano en torno a la condición humana hunde sus raíces en el convencimiento de que esta no sería fruto de un universal teleológicamente orientado. Montaigne no asume la idea de que haya un universal hacia el que los seres humanos se dirigen. De hecho, en la historia de la Filosofía no solo hay un desacuerdo sobre los medios para, por ejemplo, alcanzar la vida buena, sino que incluso la propia definición de lo que esta sea se encuentra en disputa: “No hay combate más violento y ácido entre los filósofos que el que surge en torno a la cuestión del soberano bien del hombre” (II, 12, 468). La cuestión de lo bueno no puede, para Montaigne, responderse desde la razón pedante. Los pensadores que habían seguido a Aristóteles y Tomás de Aquino, como Sepúlveda, discernían cuál era el soberano bien del hombre a partir de las leyes naturales. Sin embargo, el autor francés veía tal ley bajo una luz diferente, lo que le llevaba a rechazar las leyes naturales escolásticas como simples opiniones formadas por familiaridad con sucesos usuales, repetitivos. Tales leyes se aceptaban porque representaban cosas que conocemos por hábito y costumbre, pero si se nos presentasen por primera vez “las encontraríamos tan increíbles como cualquier otra” (I, 27, 178); tal y como nos resulta extraño el canibalismo, por ejemplo. El problema reside en nuestro uso de la razón, que nos lleva a creer que tales leyes son universales y por tanto válidas para emplearlas como guías de nuestra vida moral y política en cualquier caso, cuando en realidad son tan convencionales y válidas como, posiblemente, cualesquiera otras. Así pues, el desacuerdo filosófico a lo largo de la historia por lo que respecta a la naturaleza humana, que Montaigne se encargó de exponer enfatizando el carácter contradictorio de las diferentes definiciones, no tendría garantizado un acuerdo definitivo. Frente a Francisco de Vitoria o Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda, el autor francés no tiene como presupuesto el que la Naturaleza guarde sus secretos para revelarlos tan solo a la razón teológica o filosófica, para que esta pueda fijar el mejor de los regímenes que pudiesen conducir a la felicidad. No habría un régimen derivable de la naturaleza que fuese el mejor de los posibles, y los filósofos que intentaron encontrarlo tan solo habrían elaborado quimeras. El bien no está ligado en la percepción montaigniano a un gobierno específico o a un conjunto de leyes naturales que lo estructuran, como mostraría el fluir constante de leyes y costumbres del que los Essais se hacen en múltiples ocasiones eco. De hecho, precisamente el Nuevo Mundo habría constituido el reto más reciente y masivo a las leyes naturales y al paradigma teológico-filosófico al que estas van ligadas: Pero son divertidos [los filósofos] cuando, por dar alguna certeza a las leyes, dicen que hay algunas firmes, perpetuas e inmutables, que llaman naturales y que estarían impresas en el género humano por su esencia. (...) Porque son tan Cultura y naturaleza: Montaigne en América 97 desafortunados (porque, ¿Cómo puedo denominar de otra manera el que de un número de leyes infinito no aparezca al menos una a la que la fortuna haya permitido ser universalmente aceptada por el consentimiento de todas las naciones?), son, digo, tan miserables que de estas tres o cuatro leyes escogidas no hay ni una que no sea contradicha y rechazada no por una nación sino por diversas (II, 12, 563-564). El hecho de que determinadas naciones contradigan las supuestas leyes naturales no es un signo de la inferioridad de estas, o de su carencia de razón, sino de la falibilidad de la ley natural misma. La falta de fundamento de las leyes escolásticas, ilustrada por la diversidad de costumbres en el mundo, lleva a Montaigne a redefinir la noción de ley natural desde un punto de vista que anacrónica y un tanto demasiado sencillamente podríamos llamar secularizado. Y así, primero parecería insinuar en diversos pasajes que ninguna religión es fundamentalmente mejor que otra, o sirve a los que la siguen de mejor manera en algún sentido. Y luego afirma que la aceptación de la propia religión tiene su base última en la costumbre, ligada al lugar de nacimiento, como se es alemán o francés, y no basándose en una verdad última, “somos cristianos por el mismo motivo que perigordinos o alemanes” (II, 12, 422). En realidad, tal y como lo planteaba Montaigne en los ensayos citados, si hubiera tal cosa como unas leyes naturales, desde su perspectiva estas estarían vinculadas a la autopreservación, a evitar el dolor y al cuidado de la prole, 10 elementos todos estos presentes en las descripciones cosmográficas de los indígenas americanos y que, además, concuerdan con la crítica montaigniana al antropocentrismo del pensamiento dogmático, con la defensa de los animales y su elevación a una dignidad equivalente a la humana en ensayos centrales para la comprensión del pensamiento montaigniano como la Apología de Raimundo Sabunde (o, también, por formularlo de otro modo, dichas leyes en verdad naturales concuerdan con la “humillación” de la presunción humana, europea y escolástica principalmente, que llevada por su fantasía y dogmatismo se ha otorgado, según el esquema antes expuesto de la naturaleza jerárquica, un lugar preponderante en la creación, tan solo superado por el ser divino, guardando para los otros humanos, como los indígenas, y para los animales, un lugar marginal, como esclavos naturales o, prácticamente, meras cosas). 11 Unido a ello iría el reconocimiento del placer como un signo distintivo de la felicidad humana en el ensayista francés, lo que de nuevo muestra que para este el bien no está necesariamente ligado a su interpretación en el seno del cristianismo, católico o protestante, o a la lectura escolástica de la ley natural. 12 Tal mezcla de felicidad y placer, 10 “Valor contra el enemigo y amor a sus esposas” (I, 31, 206). 11 Para corroborar los argumentos en favor de un Montaigne que rebaja al hombre a la medida de los animales véase, por ejemplo, T. Gontier, 1998:41ss. 12 Seguimos a C. Demure, 1983:188 y a A. Levine, 2001:89ss, al insinuar que Montaigne sugeriría un nuevo modo de felicidad en su examen del Nuevo Mundo. El primero enfatiza el carácter individual de la búsqueda de esta mientras que el segundo subraya la importancia de la misma como elemento de la condición humana. Vicente Raga Rosaleny 98 entendida como virtuosa, era evidente en los caníbales cuyos dos fines no escolásticos, los ya mencionados de la defensa contra los enemigos y el cuidado de la prole, se ligan en Montaigne con su comprensión alternativa de la legislación natural a la que hemos venido aludiendo. 4. EL EJEMPLO DEL NUEVO MUNDO El juicio de Montaigne a propósito de los caníbales, vistos como aquellos que llevarían una vida feliz, en tanto que placentera, inconmensurable con el escolasticismo, es importante porque liga directamente su rechazo de la autoridad con el tema del Nuevo Mundo. Más aún, representa un caso específico en el que Montaigne apunta a la tradicional visión del hombre, mostrando que es poco precisa cuando se aplica a gentes como las recién descubiertas al otro lado del Atlántico. Una lectura más detallada de I 31 nos mostrará cómo contradice el autor francés el punto de vista de la razón pedante. En este ensayo Montaigne se vuelve a la experiencia, en lugar de a Aristóteles, para tratar de los indígenas, teniendo por único testimonio a alguien que habría acompañado a la famosa expedición francesa comandada por Villegagnon a las tierras del actual Brasil, entrando en contacto con las tribus de lo que hoy denominamos Tupinamba. Este testigo dio un retrato del caníbal alternativo de aquel que ofrecería la escolástica: 13 Tuve junto a mí durante largo tiempo a un hombre que había vivido diez o doce años en ese otro mundo descubierto durante nuestro siglo, en el lugar donde Villegagnon tomó tierra y al que llamó Francia antártica. (...) Este hombre que estaba junto a mí era sencillo y tosco, condición propia para dar un testimonio verdadero (...) me contento con esa información sin investigar lo que dicen los cosmógrafos (I, 31, 200, 202). Ciertamente, la descripción del Nuevo Mundo ofrecida por Montaigne está lejos de ser cuidadosa y etnográficamente correcta, pero cumple con su propósito de ofrecer un retrato alternativo de los “caníbales”, diverso de aquel que oficialmente se había extendido desde el paradigma dominante. Así pues, si es correcto observar que el autor francés manipula ampliamente los datos relativos al mundo indígena, no lo es menos que tales modificaciones obedecen a un proyecto más amplio, el ya indicado de redefinir la condición humana. Si, como venimos observando para Montaigne “las leyes de la conciencia, que llamamos naturales, tienen su origen en la costumbre” (I, 23, 108), entonces las costumbres que los occidentales denominan antinaturales serían simplemente contrarias a las costumbres de la Europa de la época y no erróneas a priori. Montaigne proporcionaba una lista de tales costumbres que estaban directamente relacionadas con Nuestra intención es, más bien, subrayar la ruptura con el paradigma aristotélico que subyace a la opción del escritor renacentista. 13 Véase la nota 6 de nuestro artículo para la discusión sobre el recurso retórico de Montaigne y su posible importancia en la economía interpretativa de los ensayos. Cultura y naturaleza: Montaigne en América 99 el Nuevo Mundo: el hacer dioses de cualquier cosa, incluyendo animales e ídolos que representan las pasiones (idolatría), comer carne humana, el ofrecimiento de las esposas a los invitados, la infidelidad, el incesto y la homosexualidad. 14 Tomando estos ejemplos de las descripciones claramente negativas de Gómara, Montaigne en lugar de condenarlos sugiere que son tan viables como las costumbres europeas. Enumerando estos extraños hábitos, el autor francés invitaba al lector a reflexionar sobre si eran en realidad tan ajenos al ser humano o si meramente nuestro estar atrapados en las costumbres de nuestras naciones es lo que nos hace verlos como tales. 15 Junto con esto, como explica Brush, 16 convive la idea de que el Nuevo Mundo, que era un mundo ya existente antes de la venida de Cristo y que se habría visto privado de su gracia, representa un Edén terrestre que en muchos momentos dibuja Montaigne como una suerte de crítica a la idea cristiana de creación y redención. No solo estaría poniendo en duda el escritor renacentista la jerarquía cristiana del ser humano, que colocaba al europeo de su época en lo más alto de la civilización, sino que incluso invertiría la tradicional visión del hombre sostenida por el sistema escolástico de pensamiento. Desde esta perspectiva, serían los indios, y no los europeos expuestos a la gracia redentora, los que representarían al ser humano superior. Y ciertamente, por momentos el autor francés parece semi-idealizar a las sociedades tribales de indígenas del Nuevo Mundo que describe, empleando para ello tonos de admiración que chocan frontalmente con un punto de vista estrictamente aristotélico-escolástico, para el cual la carencia de letras o ciencia de los números son signos de ausencia de razón y, por lo tanto, de inferioridad. Sea o no intencionada, la descripción que da Montaigne de los habitantes del Nuevo Mundo, tanto por lo que respecta a su carencia de escritos o ciencia numérica como respecto a la idea de que sus escasas regulaciones sociales no serían jerárquicas, no existiendo reyes ni gobernantes, dentro del marco aristotélico tal como lo exponen escolásticos como Sepúlveda no puede sacarse otra conclusión salvo la de que estos eran o estaban predestinados a ser esclavos naturales. Sin embargo, como hemos señalado, nada más lejos podría encontrarse de esta idea que la alabanza de los indígenas elaborada por el francés en sus ensayos. Todas las cualidades que de acuerdo con el paradigma tradicional señalarían a los “caníbales” como esclavos son aquí vistas como signos de bondad y valor. Incluso el rasgo más polémico, el del consumo de carne humana, si bien no era loado sin reparos sí resulta aceptado como rito y por ello no condenable como una muestra de inferioridad. De hecho, a este respecto Montaigne apela incluso en un pasaje a una comparación que unifica, por lo bajo, a toda la humanidad. De esta guisa, si de acuerdo con las autoridades clásicas aceptadas por los europeos comer carne humana sería la 14 I, 23, 108-110, así como el análisis clásico de P. Villey, 1908, I:137-138, de estos pasajes. 15 F. Lestringant, 1982:27ss. 16 C. G. Brush, 1966:35ss. Vicente Raga Rosaleny 100 más bestial de las actividades, tanto en el Nuevo Mundo como en Europa podían encontrarse ejemplos de ello, e incluso el europeo saldría perdiendo en la comparación: Pienso que es más bárbaro comer a un hombre vivo que comerlo muerto, desgarrar con torturas y tormentos un cuerpo que siente aún, asarlo lentamente, dárselo a los perros y a los cerdos para que lo muerdan y despedacen (cosa que no solo se puede leer en diversas partes sino que también hemos visto recientemente, no entre antiguos enemigos, sino entre vecinos y conciudadanos y lo que es peor, bajo el pretexto de la piedad y la religión), que asarlo y comerlo después de muerto (I, 31, 207-208). 5. LA ALTERNATIVA DE MONTAIGNE Pero Montaigne aún va más lejos, no contentándose con realizar una crítica del paradigma tradicional jerárquico, pues ofrece un retrato alternativo de la condición humana al mostrar cómo los indígenas americanos habrían ido transformándose al contacto con los conquistadores europeos. A este cambio dedicaremos la parte final de mi artículo, tratando de mostrar en qué medida el ensayista francés parece discernir tal condición del ser humano apelando a una suerte de tipología o distinción entre buenas y malas semillas. No sería la visión montaigniana sin embargo, pese a que la literatura secundaria suele identificar al ensayista francés con la idea del hombre natural como inherentemente bueno, 17 la de un Rousseau, visión que muestra a un buen salvaje corrompido por los malvados europeos; ni tampoco era la suya, por supuesto, la visión despreciativa de un Gómara u otros cosmógrafos españoles. En realidad, tal y como lo plantea el autor francés, resulta difícil conocer la condición humana en la medida en que esta consistiría en un fluir y mezclar constante de diversos elementos, destacándose en sus descripciones los dos polos ya mencionados: la razón natural que nos emparenta con los animales y la pedantería, manifestada en presunción e imaginación, que pretende asimilarnos a los “ángeles”. La condición humana, pues, oscilaría entre ambos polos de razón natural y presunción e imaginación, siendo mucho más sana cuanto más cercana estuviera del primero que del segundo. Es por esta razón que puede hablarse de los caníbales como ejemplo de hombre natural y ver en el “conquistador” a un ser humano desnaturalizado en la medida en que, de alguna manera, por su pedantería ha sobrepasado aquellos límites que la razón natural le señala. De ahí, además, y no por mor de una especie de fantástica construcción en forma de buen salvaje corrompido por la sociedad, que Montaigne hablara de la caída del hombre natural, del Inca y el Azteca, en contacto con el europeo. 18 Hablar del hombre natural como buen salvaje rousseauniano es desconocer u olvidar los elementos discordantes con tal caracterización presentes en la representación 17 G. Chinard, 1911:196-197. 18 Véase, III, 6. Cultura y naturaleza: Montaigne en América 101 montaigniana del indígena. 19 El habitante del Nuevo Mundo, en la pluma de Montaigne, no es tan solo el noble y valeroso, sino también el duro, despiadado y, por momentos, capaz de actos de gran crueldad. 20 Diferente del animal en tanto que dotado de presunción e imaginación, que la razón natural mantendría bajo control, las semillas de la caída del hombre natural estarían en su propio seno, y el contacto con los pedantes europeos no habría sino manifestado y desarrollado tales simientes. La presunción sería, pues, flagrante en los europeos y latente en los caníbales: Esas naciones me parecen por lo tanto bárbaras porque la mente humana las ha moldeado muy poco y están aún muy cerca de la inocencia natural. Se rigen aún por las leyes naturales, apenas adulteradas por las nuestras (I, 31, 204). La imaginación y presunción, de esta manera, alimentan las pasiones humanas más allá de los límites naturales. Unido a esto, otra característica de la condición humana presente en Montaigne, el libre albedrío, da pie a que el ser humano llevado por la fuerza de su imaginación pueda elegir libremente dejar un presente estado de felicidad por la promesa de otro futuro, donde se cumplieran deseos excesivos e innecesarios, que en realidad más bien contribuirán a su miseria. Este sería también un rasgo latente en los caníbales e inexistente, o apenas, en los animales, pero evidente para el autor francés en sus contemporáneos europeos. Sin embargo, algunos, como Incas y Aztecas, sí trataron de resistir, infructuosamente en definitiva, pero más por una cuestión de fuerza y desarrollo tecnológico de los conquistadores que por una impotencia constituyente, contra el embate de la imaginación y presunción europea (mientras que otros, forzoso resulta reconocerlo para Montaigne, habían sucumbido al canto de sirenas de una falsa promesa de felicidad, dejándose asimilar por la pedantería invasora). Para captar plenamente la concepción que de la condición humana tendría el autor francés, es vital reconocer que ambas semillas, dimensiones o lados, componen al ser humano. Decir de este que es naturalmente bueno, al estilo rousseauniano, sería errar a la hora de ver su posible inclinación al vicio o la pedantería: “nuestra existencia es imposible sin tal mezcla” (III, 13, 1042). Antes que estar dirigido hacia el bien, el ser humano sería pura potencia, pero no en el sentido aristotélico de moverse hacia su propia perfección, sino como un potencial sin vector, como un proceso de transformación que se mueve de una a otra semilla de acuerdo con las costumbres o de la medida en que la autorreflexión tapase o dejase libre la naturaleza en el sentido de nuestra proximidad a los animales. Los indígenas serían el vehículo perfecto para representar la condición humana, una condición que se pintaba en el lienzo de los Essais en movimiento o transformación. 19 Entre los ejemplos en la literatura que hacen de Montaigne uno de los fundadores de la teoría del buen salvaje puede verse S. Muthu, 2003:14-24; F. Lestringant, 1994:101ss, o el ya mencionado Chinard, 1911:196-197, entre otros. 20 I, 31, 207, donde queda patente que Montaigne considera tanto las guerras como el vengativo uso del canibalismo como actos de extrema crueldad. Vicente Raga Rosaleny 102 6. CONCLUSIÓN La visión de la caída de los “caníbales” o indígenas bajo los cantos de sirena de la presunción europea, la caída del hombre natural, se modela sobre la caída bíblica, aunque en última instancia, la decisión de abandonar el nuevo jardín del Edén, en los casos en que no fueron forzados a ello, claro es, tendría su origen en la propia condición doble y móvil de estos (semejante en todo, salvo en la preponderancia de semillas o polos, a la europea). El examen del Nuevo Mundo en los Essais proporciona pues un retrato de la condición humana que rompe con el paradigma tradicional aristotélico con el que se había entendido a sus habitantes desde la perspectiva de los conquistadores. Montaigne, empleando las mismas fuentes que las corrientes dominantes, interpreta a los indígenas de manera radicalmente diferente. Este ya no daría más crédito al punto de vista según el cual el mundo se divide en una suerte de jerarquía natural, con superiores e inferiores, y con el hombre dirigido hacia un fin que sería el de su perfección, alcanzable sólo mediante el seguimiento de las leyes naturales. Antes bien, el autor francés rechaza tal marco como producto de la pedantería y la presunción, volviéndose hacia los habitantes del Nuevo Mundo para dibujar su propio retrato del ser humano. El mensaje de Montaigne es el de la movilidad y el flujo equitativo. Mediante su descripción del Nuevo Mundo nos muestra a un ser humano moviéndose constantemente entre los dos polos de su condición natural, el de la razón natural y el de la presunción e imaginación, respectivamente. Somos un producto de tal movimiento, lo que a su vez deniega el punto de vista teleológico inherente al paradigma clásico. El “caníbal”, tal y como se describe en I, 31, ejemplifica el aspecto positivo o las buenas semillas de la razón natural, mientras que su transformación, narrada mediante el vocabulario religioso de la caída, nos revela los rasgos de presunción e imaginación ya presentes en él. En definitiva, volviéndonos hacia una lectura más amplia del mensaje inherente a los ensayos montaignianos, así como a uno de sus propósitos centrales, en tanto que dirigidos a lectores europeos cultos, también nosotros, o mejor dicho, los conquistadores y restantes conciudadanos de su época, serían como esos caníbales que viajaron al Viejo Mundo, al final del ensayo al que hemos prestado más atención, que habrían tapado mediante la imaginación y la presunción los rasgos originales de la razón natural: Tres de ellos, ignorantes de lo que costará algún día a su tranquilidad y ventura el conocer las corrupciones de acá, y de que de ese trato les vendrá la ruina, la cual supongo se habrá iniciado ya, bien míseros por haberse dejado engañar por el deseo de la novedad y haber dejado la dulzura de su cielo para venir a ver el nuestro fueron a Rouen, en la época en que estaba allí nuestro difunto rey Carlos IX (I, 31, 212). Retornando, pues, a la cuestión del rechazo de la autoridad, a donde conduce Montaigne al lector mediante estos ensayos es a vislumbrar la posibilidad de restaurar los poderes de esa razón natural olvidada, basándose en un reconocimiento individual. Cultura y naturaleza: Montaigne en América 103 Cada uno de los que disfrutasen de la conversación con los Essais podría descubrir mediante la lectura aquello que de corrosivo tendría la pedantería, así como el imperialismo que las ideas dogmáticas ejercían sobre su ánimo. Mediante este proceso de reflexión, semejante al llevado a cabo por Incas y Aztecas, que resistieron en definitiva a la seducción de los presuntuosos conquistadores y solo fueron derrotados por la superioridad tecnológica, coyuntural e inmunológica de estos, 21 o mediante el realizado por el propio Montaigne, cabe ejercer una resistencia fructífera y, por qué no, re-naturalizar al ser humano natural perdido cuya condición todos, caníbales y europeos, antiguos y modernos, compartimos. Universidad de Cartagena* Facultad de Ciencias Humanas Programa de Filosofía Carrera 6# 36 A 100, Cartagena de Indias, Bolívar, Colombia vragar@unicartagena.edu.co OBRAS CITADAS Brahami, Frédéric. Le scepticisme de Montaigne. Paris: PUF, 1997. Brush, Craig B. Montaigne and Bayle. Variations on the theme of scepticism. The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1966. Chinard, Gilbert. L’exotisme américain dans la littérature française au XVIe siècle d’après Rabelais, Ronsard, Montaigne, etc. Paris: Hachette, 1911. Defaux, Gerard. “Un cannibale en haut de chausses: Montaigne, la différence et la logique de l´identité”, MLN, 97/4, 1982:919-957. Demure, Catherine. “Montaigne: The Paradox and the Miracle”, Yale French Studies, 64, 1983:188-208. Desan, Philippe. Montaigne dans tous ses états, Schena: Fasano, 2001. Eva, Luiz. A figura do filósofo. Ceticismo e subjetividade em Montaigne. Sâo Paulo: Loyola, 2007. Giocanti, Sylvia. Penser l´irrésolution. Montaigne, Pascal, La Mothe le Vayer. Paris: Champion, 2001. Gontier, Thierry. De l´homme à l´animal. Paris: Vrin, 1998. Horowitz, Maryanne C. Seeds of Virtue and Knowledge. Princeton, N. J.: Princeton University Press, 1998. Lestringant, Frank. Le cannibale. Grandeur et décadence. Paris: Perrin, 1994. Lestringant, Frank. “Le cannibalisme des Cannibales I: Montaigne et la tradition”, BSAM, VI/9-10, 1982:27-40. 21 T. Todorov, 1998:59-157. Montaigne solo hace alusión a la fuerza y a la tecnología (armas) europeas, porque no podía saber que los conquistadores aprovecharon la interpretación derrotista hecha por los amerindios de sus propios mitos para vencerles, junto el auxiliarse con las disensiones habidas dentro de los imperios americanos, más la catastrófica mortandad “por enfermedades, debid[a] al «choque microbiano»“ (144). Vicente Raga Rosaleny 104 Levine, Alan. Sensual Philosophy. Lanham: Lexington Books, 2001. Montaigne, Michel de. Oeuvres complètes. Paris: Gallimard, 1962. Muthu, Sankar. Enlightenment against empire. Princeton y Oxford: Princeton University Press, 2003. Popkin, Richard H. La historia del escepticismo desde Erasmo hasta Spinoza, tr. J. J. Utrilla. México: FCE, 1983. Sayce, Richard. “Renaissance et Maniérisme dans l´oeuvre de Montaigne”, en VV.AA., Renaissance, Maniérisme, Baroque. Paris: Vrin. 1972:137-152. Schaefer, David L. The Political Philosophy of Montaigne. Ithaca. London: Cornell University Press, 1990. Todorov, Tzvetan. “L´Etre et l´Autre: Montaigne”, Yale French Studies, 64, 1983:113-144. Todorov, Tzvetan. La Conquista de América. El problema del otro. México, Siglo XXI, 1998. Villey, Pierre. Les sources et l´evolution des Essais de Montaigne. Paris: Hachette, 1908. Weinberg, Bernard. “Montaigne Reading´s for „Des Cannibales‟”, en G. B. Daniel (ed.), Renaissance and other Studies in honor of William Leon Wiley. Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 1968:261-279. 
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work_nf6rg5r77baa3kxin56sivhyla	----	20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 456 بمدينة بورسعيدعباس الخديوي بازار م1891هـ/ 1309 دراسة آثارية معمارية د. بدر عبد العزيز محمد بدر  الملخص: دراسة آثارية معمارية لبازار الخديوى عباس حلمى الثانى، البحث هذا يتناول التجاري النشاط مراكز أهم تمثل كانت التي التجارية المجمعات من يعتبرالذى أثر انعكس ولقد الحى األوروبى بمدينة بورسعيد؛ داخل المختلفة ومراحله بصوره البازار ويتكون األوروبي، النسق على شيد الذي للبازار المعماري الطراز على ذلك طابقين من تتألف أجنحة ثالثة به الشكل يحيط مستطيل مكشوف أوسط فناء من المدخل الذي جاء على للسكنى، عالوة مخصص وعلوي حوانيت على يشتمل أرضي فى المعمار راعى الشكل، وقد المرجونية العقود من صفين من تتألف بائكة هيئة علي المفردات بين والتطابق التماثل والتناسق والتكرار الواجهات وتصميم البازار تخطيط .والفنية المعمارية روالعناص مخصصا كان فندق علي يحتوي للبازار العلوي الطابق أن للنظر الالفت ومن المعمار علي من ثم حرص، والتجار والسياح والبحارة وغيرهم من األجانب إلقامة عن تماما العلوي الطابق استقالل طريق عن لهم واألمن والطمأنينة الراحة توفير لقد تنوعت األسقف المستخدمة في تغطية البازار بين األسقف و األرضي، الطابق بالقرميد. مغطاهجميعها جاءت الجمالونية والمائلة والمسطحة، كما الكالسيكية األوروبية بالطرز عباس بازار تأثر فلقد سبق ما علي وعالوة اليونانية باالضافة إلى تأثره بالبازارات، الفرنسي النهضة وعصر المستحدثة البازار بشرفات وتمثل ذلك في تزيين واجهات واأللبانية خالل العصر العثمانى، زخرفية، ولقد اشتملت فنية مسحة ذات جاءت بارزة وأفاريز خشبية ورفارف الدراسة على ثالثة أقسام رئيسية األول منها خاص بالدراسة الوصفية المعمارية من الدراسة التحليلية للوحدات للبازار من الخارج والداخل، والقسم الثانى يتض والعناصر المعمارية والفنية، أما القسم الثالث فيشتمل على الغرض الوظيفى والدور الحضارى للبازار، وفي نهاية الدراسة قائمة بأهم النتائج والتوصيات التى تم التوصل الكتالوج إليها من خالل البحث، يليها قائمة المصادر والمراجع العربية واألجنبية، ثم الذى يشتمل على األشكال واللوحات التوضيحية. أسقف –قد مرجونيع –رواق – محالت –أجنحة –فندق –بازارالكلمات الدالة: .نجمة خماسية –ساباط -تكنة - فرنتون – رفارف –  Szabadr@yahoo.comجامعة بورسعيد. –أستاذ مساعد بكلية اآلداب mailto:Szabadr@yahoo.com 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 457 -الموقع: يقع بازار (1) بمدينة بورسعيد حيث الحي اإلفرنجي بحلمي الثاني عباسالخديوي بواجهته الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية على شارع الشهيد محمود عطعوط )شارع يطل التجار األجانب من جميع الجنسيات هذا الشارع كان يتجمع في ، ولقدالبازار سابقا ( لمزاولة أنشطتهم التجارية داخل المحالت التي قام بانشائها التاجر اليوناني بولي لمزاولة مختلف األنشطة التجارية لويزيدس على نسق األسواق األوروبية (2) ، الشمالية الشرقية على ممر مالصق لمتحف ديليسبس التابع ة البازاروتشرف واجه على ممر آخر مالصق فتشرف واجهته الجنوبية الغربية أما لهيئة قناة السويس، لعمائر سكنية، بينما تطل واجهته الشمالية الغربية على مبنى المطافئ. -يخ االنشاء:المنشئ وتار كما هو مسجل داخل ،م1891عباس إلى عام الخديوي يرجع تاريخ انشاء بازار األوسط الواقع الذي يتوج المدخل المثلث الشكل الفرنتون الحلية الدائرية التي تتوسط الجنوبية الشرقية، ويشير هذا التاريخ إلى أن بداية العمل في الرئيسية بالواجهة الخديوي البازار كانت في عهد (3) م(1892هـ/ 1886محمد توفيق ) (4) ثم استكمل ، (1) انتقلت لفظة بازار من اللغة الفارسية الى اللغة العربية، وهي تطلق اصطالحا على مجموعة من بابان يقفالن من طرفيه، كما تطلق على المكان الذي تعقد فيه الدكاكين في شارع مسقوف له الصفقات، حيث يتاجر فيه األشخاص فيما بينهم. حسن خالف، عباس صباغ، المعجم الجامع في المصطلحات األيوبية والمملوكية والعثمانية ذات - .33م، ص1999األصول العربية والفارسية والتركية، دار العلوم االسالمية، بيروت، لبنان، (2) ضياء الدين حسن القاضي، موسوعة تاريخ بورسعيد، الجزء الثاني، مطبعة المستقبل، دار الكتب .219م، ص 2000المصرية، (3) خديوي بفتح الخاء وكسرها وهي كلمة فارسية معناها السيد أو المولى، وكان يطلق هذا اللقب في باشا أول من حصل على هذا اللقب بصفة رسمية فارس وتركيا على حكام األقاليم، ويعد اسماعيل م.1867هـ/1284حيث أصدر له السلطان العثماني فرمان بقلب خديو في سنة مصطفى بركات محسن على، األلقاب والوظائف العثمانية، دراسة في تطور األلقاب والوظائف - ر والوثائق والمخطوطات، منذ الفتح العثماني لمصر حتى إلغاء الخالفة العثمانية من خالل اآلثا .703، ص 2000م، دار غريب للنشر والتوزيع، 1924 – 1517 (4) م بمدينة 1852الخديوي توفيق هو نجل الخديوي اسماعيل من زوجته شفق نور، ولد سنة م، 1874القاهرة، وتزوج من األميرة أمينة إلهامي، وأنجب منها الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني سنة م، 1879م، واألميرة خديجة سنة 1879م، واألميرة نازلي سنة 1875ي في سنة واألمير محمد عل م.1892م، وتوفي سنة 1879وتولى الحكم بعد عزل والده سنة م، 1952 -م1863محمد السيد فريد طه، دور األميرات في الحياة االجتماعية المصرية، - والفنادق، جامعة مدينة السادات، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم االرشاد السياحي، كلية السياحة .29م، ص2015 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 458 العمل وافتتح البازار في عهد الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني (5) االبن األكبر للخديوي محمد توفيق. -:الخديوي عباس بمدينة بورسعيد لبازارية الوصفأوالً: الدراسة حلمي الثاني من طابقين األول منهما أرضي عبارة عن عباس الخديوي بازار يتكون أما الثاني العلوي فيشتمل على فناء أوسط مكشوف محاط بالحوانيت أو المحالت، مخصصة إلقامة التجار والسياح واألجانب، وفيما يلي وحدات سكنيةفندق يتكون من -(:2، 1الدراسة الوصفية الخاصة بالبازار )شكل رقم -لبازار من الخارج:ماري والزخرفي لالمعوصف ال -1 -الواجهات: يحتوي بازار عباس على أربعة واجهات منها واجهة واحدة رئيسية تطل على شارع الشهيد محمود عطعوط وهي الواجهة الجنوبية الشرقية، أما الواجهتان غ الجانبيتان الشمالية الشرقية والجنوبية الغربية فتطل كل منهما على ممر جانبي يبل م، بينما تالصق الواجهة الرابعة الشمالية الغربية مبنى 3وعرضه م،32طوله -المطافئ، وفيما يلي وصف هذه الواجهات من الخارج: -الواجهة الجنوبية الشرقية: -أ تعد الواجهة الرئيسية للبازار، وتمتد من الجهة الشرقية إلى الجهة الغربية بمقدار لبازار، كما يتقدم الواجهة ممر يبلغ عرضه ام، وتضم هذه الواجهة مدخل 45.9 م، وتنقسم الواجهة الى ثالثة أقسام رئيسية يشغل القسم األوسط منهم بائكة 2.20 التي ترتكز على أربعة دعامات، ويبلغ عدد تتكون من صفين من العقود المرجونية م 16.60العقود بكل صف ثالثة عقود، والبائكة تمتد من الشرق إلى الغرب بمقدار م، 2.20صفي العقود نوتبلغ اتساع المسافة المحصورة بيارتفاع، م6.40 عرض، اتساع أما م، 5.30يبلغ اتساع العقد المرجوني الذي يتوسط صفي البائكة بينما ويتوج قمة العقد المرجونى األوسط حلية زخرفية ، م4.30يبلغ فعقدين الجانيين ال نباتية من الجص تأخذ هيئة ورقتين متدابرتين من المراوح النخيلية، ويزين الحلية من أعلى ومن أسفل زخرفة صدفة المحار، ويعلو العقد واجهة تتألف من إطار هندسي ه نقش كتابي منفذ بأسلوب الحفر مستطيل يزينه لوح حجرى مستطيل يتوسط ."BAZAR ABBAS"بالحروف االنجليزية نصه (5) عباس حلمي الثاني، هو ابن محمد توفيق ابن اسماعيل ابن ابراهيم ابن محمد على باشا، ولد سنة م، وتم 1892م، وتزوج من األميرة اقبال وأنجب منها ثمانية أوالد، وتولى عرش مصر سنة 1874 ب العالمية األولى وإعالن الحكومة البريطانية م بعد قيام الحر1914عزله من حكم مصر سنة م.1944الحماية على مصر، ثم نفي إلى مدينة نابولي اإليطالية حتى توفي سنة مجدي عبدالجواد علوان، عمائر الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني الدينية الباقية بالقاهرة والوجه - اة، قسم اآلثار، كلية اآلداب، جامعة البحري، دراسة آثارية معمارية مقارنة، مخطوط رسالة دكتور . 13 -8م، ص 2003طنطا، 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 459 ويكتنف االطار الهندسي المستطيل من الجانبين عضادتين يزين كل منهما زوج من األطر الهندسية المستطيلة المنفذة بشكل أفقى ورأسي، وترتفع العضادتان حتى طار إبداية الفرنتون الذي يتوج الواجهة، وهو مستقيم الجوانب مثلث الشكل ذات ن زخارف النوايا واألسنان، حجري بارز يزينه من الداخل والخارج صفوف م طار حجري إويوجد بداخله مثلثين متقابلين يحصران فيما بينهما شكل دائرة يزينها نشاء إبارز، وقد نقش بداخلها بالخط الثلث عبارة "سوق عباس" مصحوبة بتاريخ 1891)م )1891السوق سنة (6) ، وينبثق من قمة الفرنتون قائم خشبي ينتهي من أعلى النجمة الخماسية، ويفتح القسم الشمالي الغربي الهالل ويتألف من بشكل زخرفي للبائكة على فناء البازار بثالثة عقود مرجونية، بينما يفتح الجدار الشمالي الشرقي الذى يتقدم الواجهة، ويفتح الجدار بعقد نصف دائري على القسم الشرقي من الممر بعقد نصف دائري أيضا .الجنوبي الغربي على القسم الجنوبي من الممر أما فيما يتعلق بالقسمان الجانبيان اللذان يقعان على يمين ويسار القسم األوسط من الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية، والذي يشغله المدخل فهما متماثالن تماما ، ارتفاع، وتشتمل واجهة الدور م8.60 عرض، م1.65قسم منهما مقاسات كل بلغ تو م، وتشرف هذه الواجهة على شارع 2.20األرضي لكل منهما على ممر يبلغ اتساعه ، ويبلغ اتساع الشكلبثالثة عقود نصف دائرية ترتكز على دعامات مربعة البازار م، ويتوج كل منهما حلية زخرفية بهيئة الورقة النباتية، ويشغل الجدار 2.65كل عقد محالت بكل قسم، ومن المالحظ أن ةأربع نمن ممر القسمان الجانبيا الغربيالشمالي الطرفين الجنوبي والشرقي من الواجهة كل طرف من الواقع ب االمحل الرابع منهم الممر الشمالي الشرقي والممر الجنوبي الغربي للبازار، ويشغل واجهة الرئيسية يمثل محالن حديثان يبلغ عرض حاليا الطرفين الجنوبي والشرقي من الواجهة الرئيسية م، وتطل واجهة هذين الطرفين على شارع 6.30م، وارتفاعهما 3.60كل منهما م.2.65 هاتساعيبلغ يزين قمته حلية نباتية زخرفية والبازار بعقد نصف دائري الشمال الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي للممر الذي يتقدم الواجهة ينويفتح الجدار بكامل اتساعهما على القسم األوسط من الواجهة والذي يشغله المدخل بعقد نصف ن نافذة مستطيلة الشكل يبلغ ين الجانبييدائري، ويتوسط واجهة الطابق العلوي بالقسم لفتي شباك من الخشب الشيش، دم، ويغلق عليها 1.60ا م، وارتفاعه1.10اتساعها معدن الزهر ويوجد على يمين ويسار النافذة شرفة خشبية يؤطرها درابزين من (6) يقصد بكلمة السوق: البيع والشراء وهي مأخوذة من الفعل تسوق بمعني باع واشترى، وتسوق القوم أي اتخذوا سوقا ، ويقال أن كلمة سوق مشتقة من اآلرامية إال أنه من الثابت أن األسواق كانت اإلسالم مثل سوق عكاظ وهو من أشهر األسواق العربية القديمة.معروفة عند العرب قبل مصطفى فوزي محمد عبدالرحيم، األسواق التجارية المشيدة بمدينة القاهرة خالل الربع األول من - القرن العشرين، دراسة حضارية معمارية، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية، كلية .13م، ص 2016اآلثار، جامعة القاهرة، 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 460 م، والشرفة محمولة على 1.20م، وارتفاعها 3.80، ويبلغ عرض الشرفة المسبوك م، ويفتح على كل شرفة منهما 0.90كوابيل حجرية وتبرز عن الواجهة بمقدار راعين من الخشب الشيش، ويتوج واجهة الطابق العلوي إطار بارز يعلوه رفرف مص م، ومن الالفت للنظر أن القسم الشرقي من 0.50خشبي يبرز عن الواجهة بمقدار الواجهة يتماثل تماما مع القسم الجنوبي، وهي السمة المميزة لمعظم الوحدات بالتماثل والتطابق والتكرار فيما بينها والعناصر المعمارية والفنية بالبازار حيث تتسم ، 6، 5، 4، 3، 2، 1)لوحة رقم ( 12، 11، 10، 9، 8، 7، 6، 5، 4، 3)شكل رقم 7 ،8 ،9 ،10 ،11 ،12 ،13). -الواجهتان الجانبيتان الشمالية الشرقية والجنوبية الغربية: -ب الغربية مع بعضهما تتماثل الواجهتان الجانبيتان الشمالية الشرقية والجنوبية م ارتفاع، 10م عرض، 25وهما واجهتان فرعيتان يبلغ امتداد كل منهما ، تماما م، ويالصق الممر 2.30م، وعرضه 32وتطل كل منهما على ممر جانبي يبلغ طوله من الجهة الشمالية الشرقية أحد المباني الخاصة بهيئة قناة السويس وهو متحف ة الجنوبية الغربية من الممر اآلخر عمائر سكنية، وتضم ديليسبس، بينما توجد بالجه هاتان الواجهتان سبعة محالت سفلية ذات مداخل يغلق عليها أبواب خشبية يبلغ م، ويعلو المحالت السفلية سبعة نوافذ علوية مستطيلة 1.50م، وعرضها 4ارتفاعها فذ شبابيك من م، ويغلق على جميع هذه النوا1.10م، وعرضها 1.60يبلغ ارتفاعها الخشب الشيش. -الواجهة الشمالية الغربية: -جـ ، ولقد نجح المعمار في ئتشرف الواجهة الشمالية الغربية على مبنى المطاف نافذة علوية ةعشر ىثنامعالجتها وكأنها واجهة حرة بشكل كامل، حيث تشتمل على مستطيلة الشكل ذات شبابيك من الخشب الشيش. -:لبازار من الداخلوالزخرفي ل المعماريوصف ال -2 م 32عباس من فناء أوسط مكشوف مستطيل الشكل تبلغ مقاساته بازار يتكون م عرض، ويحيط بالفناء ثالثة أجنحة تتألف من طابقين أرضي وعلوي 16طول ، عالوة على المدخل الواقع بالجهة الجنوبية الشرقية، وفيما يلي الوحدات و العناصر -ة بالبازار:المعمارية الخاص -المدخل: -أ توسط المدخل الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية، وقد جاء المدخل علي هيئة ي بائكة تتألف من صفين من العقود المرجونية الشكل والتي يبلغ عددها ثالث عقود بكل بينما يبلغ ،م5.30صف، ومن المالحظ أن إتساع فتحة العقد األوسط منهما تبلغ ولة علي دعامات حجرية يبلغ مم، والعقود مح4.30إتساع فتحة العقدين اآلخران م.5إرتفاعها 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 461 ومما يسترعي اإلنتباه أن فتحة العقد األوسط المحمول علي زوج من الدعامات حيث تفضي إلي داخل الرواق الذي يتم ؛الحجرية تعد بمثابة المدخل الرئيسي للسوق الي داخل الفناء، أما فتحتي العقدين الجانبيين فتعد كل منهما الوصول من خالله بمثابة مدخل ثانوي، حيث يفضي كل منها إلي داخل القسمين الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي من الفناء، وقد جاء كل منهما علي هيئة ممر مكشوف يبلغ طوله ( 20، 19، 18، 17،، 16، 15، 14، 13)شكل رقم م 5م، بينما يبلغ عرضه 24 .(21، 20، 19، 18، 17، 16، 15، 14)لوحة رقم -الفناء : -ب م عرض، 16م طول، 28يتكون الفناء من مساحة مستطيلة الشكل تبلغ مقاساتها وهو األوسط عبارة عن رواق مستطيل اوالفناء مقسم إلي ثالثة أقسام، األول منهم م، ولقد كان هذا الرواق مغطي بسقف خشبي 6م بينما يبلغ عرضه 20يبلغ طوله دعائم بكل التي يبلغ عددها خمسمحمول علي صفين من الدعائم الحجرية المربعة م، أما القسمان 0.60بينما يبلغ سمكها ،م5صف، ويبلغ ارتفاع كل دعامة منهم الجنوبي الغربي، فيبلغ مقاس كل منهما ون الفناء وهما الشمالي الشرقي الجانبيان م األقسام من المالحظ أن وكل منهما مكشوف سماويا ، و ،م عرض5م طول، 24 مكشوف سماوي يربط بين الفناء وبين الثالثة تتصل من الجهة الشمالية الغربية بممر من الجهات الثالثة الشمالية وتفتح على الفناء ، أجنحة وممرات البازار المختلفة الشرقية والشمالية الغربية والجنوبية الغربية محالت الطابق األرضى، بينما تشرف ، 28)لوحة رقم من أعلى غرف السكنى بالفندق الواقع بالطابق العلوى ى الفناءعل 29). -أجنحة البازار: -جـ -الجناحان الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي: - يتكونو ،متماثالن تماما وهما م عرض، 12م طول، 24يبلغ مقاس كل منهما م طول، 6ثنى عشر محال يبلغ مقاس كل منهما من إالدور األرضي بكل جناح منهما م عرض، ومن المالحظ أن المحالت موزعة على الجهتين الشمالية الشرقية 4 من ا على فناء البازاروالجنوبية الغربية بكل جناح، حيث تفتح ستة محالت منهم ، بينما تفتح المحالت الستة األخرى على الممر الخلفي لكل من الجناح الشمالي الداخل مخصصا نالشرقي والجناح الجنوبي الغربي، أما الطابق العلوي بكل جناح فلقد كا واألجانب، ويتم الوصول إليه عن طريق زوج من الساللم الخشبية فندقا القامة التجار ن يتقدمان الجناح الشمالي يثابتة التي تم اقامتها بكل من الممرين الجانبيين اللذال الغربي للبازار، ويربطان بين الممرين الخلفيين الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي مباشرة إلى الغرف ن الساللم الخشبيةوبين الفناء الداخلي للبازار، ويفضي كل سلم م السكنية الخاصة بكل جناح من أجنحة الفندق بالطابق العلوي، حيث تنقسم بواسطة ممر طولي الى قسمين شمالي شرقي وجنوبي غربي، ومن المالحظ أن كل قسم 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 462 م ارتفاع، 5م عرض، 4م طول، 6يتكون من سبع غرف سكنية تبلغ مقاساتها األوسط ويبلغ مقاساتها تفتح على الممروتحتوي كل غرفة على فتحة باب مستطيلة م اتساع، وفتحة نافذة مستطيلة يغلق عليها دلفتي شباك من الخشب 1.50م ارتفاع، 4 م عرض، وتشرف هذه 1.10م ارتفاع، 1.60وتبلغ مقاسات كل منهما ،الشيش وعلى الممرات الخلفية من الخارج، ويغطي ،النوافذ على فناء البازار من الداخل يتوج واجهات الطابقين بينما العلوي بكل جناح سقف جمالوني الشكل، الطابق األرضي والعلوى بكل من الجناحين الشمالى الشرقى والجنوبى الغربى رفارف خشبية بارزة تطل على صحن البازار من الداخل، وعلى الممرات الخلفية من )لوحة رقم اليا الخارج، والبازار في حالة سيئة للغاية وجزء كبير منه متهدم ح 30،31،32،33). -الجناح الشمالي الغربي: - م، ويشرف 6م، ويبلغ اتساعه 46يمتد هذا الجناح من الشمال إلى الغرب بمقدار ثنى عشر ابواجهته الشمالية الغربية على فناء البازار من الداخل، حيث يحتوي على م عرض، وتفتح جميع 4م طول، 5.30محال بالطابق األرضى يبلغ مقاس كل منهم م 4مستطيلة يبلغ مقاساتها هذه المحالت على الفناء والممرات الجانبية بمداخل م عرض، ويغلق عليها أبواب خشبية حديثة، ومن المالحظ أن الستة 1.50، ارتفاع لبازار، بينما تشرف ثالثة محالت على محالت الوسطى بالجناح تشرف على فناء ا شرف تالي الغربي من الجهة الشمالية، والممر الذي يوصل بين الفناء والممر الشم الثالث محالت األخرى على الممر الذي يوصل بين الفناء والممر الجنوبي الغربي من الجهة الغربية، وتوجد الحمامات ودورات المياه الخاصة بالبازار في أقصى .(34)لوحة رقم لجناح الشمالي الغربيلالشمالي والغربي ينرفالط والجدير بالذكر أن الطابق العلوي لهذا الجناح كان مخصصا أيضا مثل الجناحين ليه عن طريق الساللم الخشبية التي إاآلخرين فندقا للتجار واألجانب، ويتم الوصول شمالية والغربية لهذا الجناح، ويتكون تقع بالممرين الجانبيين اللذان يتقدمان الجهتين ال م عرض، 4م طول، 6بلغ مقاسات كل منها تغرفة سكنية ةثنى عشراهذا الجناح من حيث تطل مداخل الغرف الستة الوسطى على فناء البازار بينما تطل مداخل الغرف الستة األخرى على الممرين الجانبيين بكل من الجهتين الشمالية والغربية لهذا م، وتشرف 1،50بينما يبلغ اتساعها ،م4 هذه الغرف اح، ويبلغ ارتفاع مداخلالجن واجهات جميع هذه الغرف على الفناء والممرين الجانبيين بصفوف من الشرفات م، وتمتد من الشرق الى الغرب بمقدار 1.50الخشبية البارزة عن الجدران بمقدار أن معظم هذه الشرفات فى حالة ومن المالحظ م بطول امتداد واجهة الجناح، 46 أما فيما يتعلق بالسقف العلوى الذى يغطى هذا الجناح فهو سقف مائل سيئة للغاية، مغطى بالقرميد. 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 463 أن المهندس المعماري المصمم لهذا البازار قد ربط بين كل من الالفت للنظر و وبي الغربي ن الشمالي الشرقي والجنين الجانبييمن الجناح الشمالي الغربي والجناح ن بين ن الموصالين الجانبييبمعبرة من الخشب تقع بالجزء العلوي لكل من الممر ، 41، 40، 39، 38 )لوحة رقم ن الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربييالفناء والممر بالقسم أما فيما يتعلق بالجناح الجنوبي الشرقي فيشتمل على المدخل ، (44، 43، 42 ة، والقسمان الجانبيان ويشتمالن على الممر الذي يتقدم األوسط من الواجهة الرئيس وهما متماثالن تماما . الواجهة -:الخديوي عباس بمدينة بورسعيد الدراسة التحليلية لبازار :ثانياً -الوحدات المعمارية واالنشائية: -1 -التخطيط: -أ ين من ناحية التكوين تجاهين رئيساتخذت األسواق والمنشآت التجارية ا ها عبارة عن مجموعة من الحوانيت تطل علي ساحة مكشوفة في منالمعماري، األول الوسط وظهرها إلي الخارج، وتعلو هذه الحوانيت وحدات سكنية كانت تؤجر لمن يرغب في السكن في تصميم يشبه األجورا في المدن اليونانية، ويفى هذا النمط من حيث يوفر لهم الحوانيت اآلمنة والمساكن التي تعلو ؛جة التجارالمنشآت التجارية بحا واإلتجاه الثاني في التكوين المعماري لألسواق هو نمط الحوانيت ؛تهميحوان قد كانت والمتراصة علي جانب الشارع الرئيسي والشوارع الفرعية المتسعة، كين علي جانبي األسواق في المدن الرومانية تقام حول الميدان، ثم أنشأت الدكا لي إالشوارع وشاع ذلك في العصر البيزنطي، وفي العصور اإلسالمية تطور السوق النمط األول الذي يمثل اإلتجاه األول في التكوين المعماري، لكن ذلك لم يمنع من إنشاء الحوانيت المتراصة علي جانبي الشارع (7) . علي الفناء األوسط المكشوف ن التخطيط العام لبازار عباس الذي يعتمد أوالواقع السكنية في الطابق المحاط بالحوانيت أو المحالت في الطابق األرضي، والوحدات الوكالة نعكاسا للطراز اإلسالمي المصري الخاص بتخطيط الخان أواالعلوي ُيعد (8) (7) هـ/ 1408ذو الحجة 128محمد عبدالستار عثمان، المدينة اإلسالمية، سلسلة المعرفة، العدد م، ص 1988هـ/1408م، المجلس الوطني للثقافة والفنون واآلداب، الكويت، 1988أغسطس 256-259. (8) إلقامة التجار في توجد الوكاالت داخل المدن بالقرب من المناطق التجارية، وكانت تخصص طوابق علوية سكنية، بينما تخزن بضائعهم في طوابق أرضية سفلية، وتتمحور طوابق الوكالة نحو الداخل حيث تفتح على الفناء األوسط، ولم يكن يوجد خالف كبير في العصر العثماني بين الوكالة أبنية الوكاالت والخان من حيث التخطيط الهندسي وعناصر التكوين المعماري، وإن اختلفت والخانات في مصر على مثيالتها في الشام ألنها كانت ال تزيد عن طابقين في بالد الشام أحدهما أرضى به حواصل للبيع والشراء، واآلخر علوي به مساكن لإلقامة. م، ص 2000عاصم محمد رزق،معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون اإلسالمية،مكتبة مدبولى،- 324 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 464 خالل العصريين المملوكي والعثماني (9) ، حيث يتضح من دراسة التخطيط العام لكل التشابه ىوكاالت والخانات والعناصر المعمارية والفنية الخاصة بكل منهما مدمن ال الكبير بينهما سواء من حيث التخطيط العام أو الغرض الوظيفي الذي أنشأت من أجله (10) الوكاالت الى حد ما، ومن ثم فإن الخانات التي كانت تقام داخل المدن تماثل في مصر (11) ذات نمط الفناء الواحد، وهو النمط األكثر ، وخاصة الخانات العثمانية معظم خانات هذا وول خاصة، بانتشيوعا بين الخانات العثمانية عامة وخانات إس النمط جاء تخطيطها من صحن أوسط مكشوف تحيط به الحجرات من طابقين (12) . بازار عباس أيضا بالطرز األوروبية تخطيط وعالوة علي ما سبق فلقد تأثر ة المستحدثة وعصر النهضة الفرنسي، ولعل ذلك يرجع إلي تطلع الخديوي الكالسيكي عباس حلمي الثاني إلي تركيا وجنوب أوروبا كمصدر من مصادر الحضارة والتقدم خالل القرن التاسع عشر، حيث كانت العمائر والمنشآت المقامة في القاهرة الهدف بشكل براق مستورد واإلسكندرية وبورسعيد تمثل طريقا رحبا نحو تحقيق هذا بمواده وصناعته من تركيا وأوروبا، وكانت مصر بوجه عام وبورسعيد بوجه خاص بابا مفتوحا علي مصراعيه للمعماريين والمهندسيين األوروبيين وخاصة اإليطاليين واإلنجليز والفرنسيين واليونانيين، ومن ثم شرع الخديوي عباس حلمي وغيرها من العمائر األخري مثل بازار عباس علي النمط الثاني في بناء القصور حيث تجمعت من كل طراز وحدة أو عنصر ؛األوروبي في مرحلته الكالسيكية وتم صياغتهم جميعا في بوتقة ،معماري سواء كان مدخل أو واجهة أو قاعة أو سقف واحدة نتج عنها طراز معماري وفني جديد (13) . أن يكون من البازارات المفتوحة ولقد روعي في التخطيط عند بناء بازار عباس -الوحدات والعناصر المعمارية التالية: اتتوافر فيهالتي الفناء األوسط المكشوف الذي يستخدم في الحركة ويوفر اإلضاءة والتهوية لجميع - أجنحة البازار. (9) لطفي القاضي، العمارة اإلسالمية في مصر، النظرية والتطبيق، مخطوط رسالة شوكت محمد . 82-79م، ص1998دكتوراه، قسم العمارة، كلية الهندسة، جامعة أسيوط، (10) آمال أحمد حسن العمري، المنشآت التجارية في القاهرة فى العصر المملوكى، مخطوط رسالة . 260، 259م، ص 1974ثار، جامعة القاهرة، دكتوراة، قسم اآلثار االسالمية، كلية اآل (11) محمد حمزة اسماعيل الحداد، العمارة اإلسالمية في أوروبا العثمانية، المجلد األول، مجلس .260م، ص2002هـ/1423النشر العلمي، لجنة التألييف والتعريب والنشر، جامعة الكويت، (12) لعثمانية الباقية بمدينة إستانبول حتي أواخر محمد أحمد بهاء الدين عوض السيد ملكة، المنشآت ا م، دراسة آثارية معمارية وفنية، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية، 19هـ / 12القرن . 335م، ص 2016هـ/1437كلية اآلثار، جامعة القاهرة، (13) . 82-79شوكت القاضي، العمارة اإلسالمية في مصر، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 465 فى عرض السلع والبضائع الخاصة الرواق أو السقيفة التي تتوسط الفناء وتستخدم - بالتجار. نظام األجنحة المستقلة بذاتها والتي يتم الربط بين طوابقها العلوية بواسطة الساباط - أو المعبرة الخشبية . الممرات الداخلية والخلفية التي تساعد علي حرية الحركة والتنقل بين جميع أجنحة - البازار. وغيرهم. المخصصة إلقامة التجار الفندق الذي يشتمل علي غرف السكن - السلع والبضائع.بيع الحوانيت والمحالت الخاصة ب - الحواصل والمخازن لتخزين السلع والبضائع. - المداخل المباشرة التي تؤدي الي داخل الفناء مباشرة في سهولة ويسر. - اسلوب التغطية باألسقف الجمالونية والمائلة المغطاة بالقرميد. - .مة فى أقصى طرفى البازار من الخلفالملحقات المقا - -الفناء: - هو عبارة عن مساحة مفتوحة إلى السماء تقع داخل المبنى ومحاطة من جميع ،الجهات، واستخدم الفناء كعنصر معماري في تصميم المبنى لتلطيف درجة الحرارة داخلية يوفر بيئة مما وتوفير اإلضاءة والتهوية داخل المحالت والغرف السكنية، مناسبة مناخيا (14) ، ويتوسط الفناء الوحدات المعمارية بالمنشأة التجارية، حيث يمثل قلب المنشأة، ويعد أيضا من عناصر الحركة واالتصال ومن ثم يتم من خالله التحرك أجنحة البازار المختلفةبين (15) . لمعمارية ولقد لعب الفناء األوسط المكشوف دورا أساسيا في توزيع الوحدات ا بثالثة أجنحة ذات محالت سفلية محاطا الفناء ببازار عباس، حيث جاء تخطيط يعلوها غرف سكنية علوية من الجهات الثالثة الشمالية الشرقية والشمالية الغربية والجنوبية الغربية، عالوة على المدخل بالجهة الجنوبية الشرقية، ومن ثم يعد الفناء به وحدات البازار وعناصره المعمارية من جميع الجهات. حيطيي ذالالبازار مركز األوسط منهما ؛أن الفناء مقسم إلى ثالث أقسام رئيسية ما يبعث على الشغفوم عبارة عن رواق أو سقيفة مغطاة بسقف مسطح يرتكز على دعامات حجرية، ولقد والبضائع عرض السلع عالوة على استراحة للتجارككان هذا الرواق مخصصا المجهزة للبيع، أما القسمان اآلخران من الفناء وهما الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي فمتماثالن تماما ، وكل منهما مكشوف سماويا وتفتح عليهما محالت وحوانيت .(31، 30)لوحة رقم الطابق األرضي (14) .82 -79رة اإلسالمية في مصر، صشوكت القاضى ، العما (15) ضياء محمد جاد عبدالكريم زهران، المنشآت التجارية بمدينة القاهرة في القرن التاسع عشر م(، دراسة أثرية حضارية، مخطوط رسالة دكتوراة، قسم اآلثار االسالمية، 19هـ/ 13الميالدي ) .256م، ص 2007كلية اآلثار، جامعة القاهرة، 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 466 -الحوانيت )المحالت(: - توجد الحوانيت (16) التجارية، وقد تكون قائمة بذاتها أو المحالت أسفل األبنية وجد خلف الحوانيت حواصل يخزن فيها التجار تومرتفعة عن أرضية الشارع، وقد بضائعهم (17) وجاءت هذه الحوانيت ، رتبط ذلك بظروف امربعة أو مستطيلة الشكل، و إنشاء هذه الحوانيت وأغراض التجارة فيها (18) . وكانت الحوانيت مقسمة في العصر العثماني إلي عدة أنواع منها حوانيت ملحقة وحوانيت بوكاالت أو خانات لعرض السلع الخاصة بالتجار المقيمين بهذه المنشآت، مستقلة أخرى أفران لبيع الخبز الذي تنتجه والالزم ألهل الحي، وأوملحقة بمنازل، بل إيجار سنوي، وكان امتالك حانوت أو محل كان يتم تأجيرها مقا ابذاتها، ومعظمه هايخضع لرغبة الحكومة في التحكم في عدد الصناع، وأرباب الحرف العاملين ب (19) ، ويخزن التجار بضائعهم في حواصل تقع خلف الحوانيت، وقد ظهرت الحوانيت فى جميع المنشآت التجارية خالل العصرين المملوكى والعثمانى (20) . أربع واجهات الداخلية والخارجية ألجنحة البازار المختلفة علي واشتملت جميع ال عشر محال تطل علي الفناء والممرات الجانبية ى ثنامحال عبارة عن وأربعين واثنى عشر محال بالجناح الشمالى الشرقى عبارة عن ستة بالجناح الشمالي الغربي، محالت تفتح علي الفناء، وستة أخري تفتح على الممر الخلفى، واثنى عشر محال على الفناء، وستة أخرى تفتح تفتح بالجناح الجنوبى الغربى عبارة عن ستة محالت طل علي الذي ي تم استحداثها فيما بعد بالممرمحالت ثمانية علي الممر الخلفى، و شارع البازار بالواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية، وهكذا يتضح لنا أن المحالت تطل علي داخل الفناء من الجهات الشمالية الشرقية والجنوبية الغربية والشمالية الغربية، بينما تطل علي الخارج حيث الممرات الخلفية للجناح الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي ممر الذي يتقدم الواجهة الرئيسية المطلة علي شارع البازار.الغربي، وال (16) لجمع حوانيت وهو المحل أوالدكان أو المكان الذي يتم فيه البيع والشراء، ويشتمل الحانوت وا كل منها علي مصطبة وداخل وداراريب، وقد اعتاد المعمار أن يجعل مصاطب هذه الحوانيت خارج إغالقها لعرض البضائع والسلع عليها أما الدكان والجمع دكاكين فكانت عبارة عن مصطبة في األسواق لبيع السلع والبضائع. يتم الجلوس عليها .72عاصم رزق، معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون اإلسالمية ، ص - (17) . 72عاصم رزق، معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون اإلسالمية ، ص (18) .264محمد عبدالستار، المدينة اإلسالمية، ص (19) سالمية، حي باب البحر، القاهرة، محمد محمود علي الجهيني، أحياء القاهرة القديمة وآثارها اإل .97، 96، ص 1م ،ط2000دار نهضة الشرق، (20) .236ضياء زهران، المنشآت التجارية بمدينة القاهرة في القرن التاسع عشر الميالدي، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 467 -الفندق: - تعتبر الفنادق (21) وت التجار وغير التجار من أهمة التي ممن المنشآت التجارية ال ثر عددها نتيجة للتوسع كاألجانب، وقد ُعرفت الفنادق منذ بداية العصر اإلسالمي، و خاص بها عبارة عن بناء يقيم فيه التجار التجاري، حيث كان لكل جالية فندق ن ويحفظون فيه بضائعهم، وكان يحتوي علي كنيسة صغيرة إلقامة واألوروبي شعائرهم الدينية، وفرن لصناعة الخبز الخاص بهم، وكانوا يختارون أحد أفراد سم الفندقيا هالجالية األجنبية لإلشراف علي تنظيم اإلقامة داخل الفندق يطلق علي (22) . األول منهما يطلق عليه الفنادق المحلية، وهي التي من الفنادق نوعان هناكوكان كانت وقفا علي التجارة الداخلية، والنوع الثاني كان مخصصا للتجار والرعايا األجانب الوافدين من الدول األوروبية التي تربطها بمصر عالقات تجارية، واحتوت ال كبيرة لعقد اإلتفاقيات والصفقات التجارية بين استقب اتأيضا هذه الفنادق علي قاع التجار المصريين واألجانب (23) . على عدة فنادق خاصة بالجاليات األجنبية المقيمة بورسعيد وقد اشتملت مدينة بانيو وفندق اللوفر وفندق دي فرانسيس وهي من فندق دقافنالفيها، ومن أهم هذه أما الجالية االيطالية فكان من أهم فنادقها ثالثة الفنادق الخاصة بالجالية الفرنسية، الس وفندق الكونينتال وفندق ايسترن باالس، وقام بانشائها افنادق وهي فندق كازينو ب المسيو سيلفيو سيمونيني الذي تخصص في اقامة الفنادق؛ أما الجالية االنجليزية فكان مركزا تجاريا اقتصاديا م، وكان1882من أهم فنادقها فندق ايسترن اكستشنج سنة كبيرا (24) . والجدير بالذكر أن هذه الفنادق كانت فخمة ومريحة ونظيفة مما يدل على مدى العناية بها، وكان أصحابها يبعثون المترجمين والمندوبين عند وصول السفن إلى ق الميناء لجذب النزالء إليها من التجار والسياح والبحارة، وكانت معظم هذه الفناد تطل على ساحل البحر المتوسط وتقدم وجبات الطعام للنزالء، ومن المالحظ أن محافظة بورسعيد كانت تقوم باستضافة كبار زوارها من األمراء واألجانب في هذه (21) ، ويقابلها في اإليطالية كلمة Pandokeionلفظ فندق كلمة يونانية األصل يطلق عليها إسم Fondaco وكان ٌيعرف في بيزنطة بإسم ،Mitata . .139آمال العمري، المنشآت التجارية في القاهرة في العصر المملوكي، ص - (22) . 141آمال العمري، المنشآت التجارية في القاهرة في العصر المملوكي، ص (23) ثرية وليد رشاد أمين مصطفي، المنشآت التجارية بدلتا النيل في العصر العثماني، دراسة أ حضارية، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم اإلرشاد السياحي، كلية السياحة والفنادق، جامعة مدينة . 78،119م، ص 2016هـ/1437السادات، (24) لوكونت، بورسعيد، عمارة القرن التاسع عشر والقرن العشرين، المعهد –ماري لوركرونيه .55، 53م، ص 2006الفرنسي لآلثار الشرقية، القاهرة، - Marie Laure Crosnier – Lecont, Port-Said architectures xixe – xxe siècles, institute, Francais d`archeology orientale, le Caire, 2006, P 53, 55. 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 468 الفنادق على نفقة الدولة (25) وكان يتولي إغالق أبواب الفندق أثناء الليل موظف ، وعة من رجال الشرطة يكلفون حكومي خاص، كما كان يوجد بكل فندق مجم بحراسته ومراقبة أبوابه حفاظا علي األمن وحرصا علي حياة نزالئه (26) . فهي أبنية ؛في البدايةوالجدير باإلشارة أن األجانب لم يكن لهم حق ملكية الفنادق مصرية وضعتها السلطات المصرية تحت تصرف تجارهم تسهيال إلقامتهم في البالد هي الهيئة التي تشرف ئية، وكانت إدارة الجمارك بالموانقات التجاروقيامهم بالصف وإصالحها، وكان وتتكفل بالسهر علي سالمتها ودفع إيجارها ،علي هذه الفنادق وال أيضا عن فندق دولته وعن تسديد رسوم التجار للدولة ئقنصل كل دولة مس للمبني، وكان ينص علي المصرية ورصد جزء منها لإلصالحات والصيانة الالزمة ذلك في المعاهدات التي تعقدها الدول األوروبية التجارية مع الدولة (27) . ومن الالفت للنظر أن الطابق العلوي لسوق الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني غرفة سكنية كانت 40يشتمل علي المعروف ببازار عباس يحتوي علي فندق الجناح الشمالي من المالحظ أن األجانب وغيرهم، ومن مخصصة إلقامة التجار هذا الفندق، حيث يضم كل منهما بمع الجناح الجنوبي الغربي تماما الشرقي يتماثل عبارة عن بكل جناح صفين من الغرف السكنية التي يبلغ عددها أربعة عشر غرفة وسبعة أخرى تشرف علي الممر الخلفي سبعة غرف تشرف علي الفناء من الداخل تشرف واجهات الغرف السكنية من الداخل علي الفناء ومن الخارج من الخارج، و التي تعد من التأثيرات األوروبية علي الممرات الخلفية بصفوف من الشبابيك الشيش بالجناح الشمالي الغربي ى، أما فيما يتعلق بغرف السكنالفرنسية على بازار عباس سالفة الذكر، وجميع هذه ىغرفة تشبه تماما غرف السكن ةعشر اثنتىفيبلغ عددها مدخال تشرف على الفناء من عشر ىثنا يفتح عليهاوالغرف متراصة بجوار بعضها شرفات خشبية مشيدة علي الجهة الجنوبية الشرقية للجناح الشمالي الغربي بواسطة لحي األفرنجي نفس طراز الشرفات التي تزين واجهات العمائر السكنية بكل من ا وحي العرب بمدينة بورسعيد. ولقد يسر المعمار وسائل الحركة واإلتصال بين جميع أجنحة الفندق بالطابق العلوي حيث ربط بين الجناح الشمالي الغربي، وبين كل من الجناحين الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي بواسطة زوج من الساباطات أو المعابر الخشبية، بينما ين غرف كل من الجناح الشمالي الشرقي والجناح الجنوبي الغربي بواسطة ربط ب ممر يعلو كتلة المدخل التي تطل علي شارع البازار بالواجهة الجنوبية الشرقية، (25) م حتى عام 1859زين العابدين شمس الدين نجم، بورسعيد تاريخها وتطورها منذ نشأتها سنة .121، 120م، ص 1987امة للكتاب، ، الهيئة المصرية الع1882 (26) .120وليد رشاد، المنشآت التجارية بدلتا النيل في العصر العثماني، ص (27) .145، 144آمال العمري، المنشآت التجارية في القاهرة في العصر المملوكي، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 469 المعمار سهولة الحركة واإلتصال بين جميع الوحدات السكنية بالفندق ىوهكذا راع المقام بالطابق العلوى. ير الراحة واألمن للتجار وغيرهم من األجانب المقيمين وحرص المعمار علي توف بالفندق عن طريق استقالل الطابق العلوي تماما عن الطابق األرضي، وجعل الوصول إليه يتم بصعوبة من خالل ساللم خشبية ثابتة توجد في الممرات الخلفية، السكنية ، وجميع الوحدات من واألمان للتجاروذلك إمعانا في توفير عنصر األ أسقف جمالونية، أما الوحدات ذات بالجناحين الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي أسقف مائلة، بينما غطي القسم الذى يربط بين ذات السكنية للجناح الشمالي الغربي ف الجناحين الشمالى الشرقى والجنوبى الغربى ويعلو المدخل باألسقف الجمالونية زينت جميع قد ويع أسقف البازار مغطاة بالقرميد، ومن المالحظ أن جموالمسطحة، واجهات بالرفارف واألفاريز والشرفات المصنوعة من الخشب الموسكى فجاءت ال .(34، 33، 8، 7)لوحة رقم ذات مسحة فنية زخرفية -الواجهات: -ب تعتبر الواجهات (28) أكثر الوحدات المعمارية اشرافا على المحيط الخارجي، لذلك حتوائها على الكثير من الالعصور عبر كانت موضع اهتمام المعمار في مصر الوحدات والعناصر المرتبطة بعمارة المنشأة وزخرفتها باختالف وظائفها وأزمنتها (29) تصمم واجهات المباني من مجموعة من المفردات والعناصر قد كانت و، التي تتكامل مع بعضها البعض حتى يكتمل الشكل الخارجي والفنية المعمارية -، وتنقسم الواجهات الى قسمين اثنين وهما:المنشأةللواجهات تبعا لوظيفة ؛ وهي العنصر الرئيسي والحيوي في تشكيل الواجهات، الواجهات الرئيسية - وتتوفر بها الفتحات األساسية للمبنى، وغالبا ما تتجه الواجهات الرئيسية نحو الشارع الرئيسي أو الميدان، وتضم واجهة المدخل الرئيسي. (28) الواجهات: جمع واجهة وهي الحائط الخارجي للمبنى المطل على الطريق والذي يكون فيه لباب، وقد يكون للمبنى أكثر من واجهة إذا أطل على أكثر من جهة، وفي هذه الحالة يطلق على ا الواجهة التي تضم الباب الرئيسي الواجهة الرئيسية. أحمد رجب يوسف ابراهيم، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن القناة في عصر األسرة - سة آثارية، مخطوط رسالة ماجيستير، قسم م، درا1952 -1805هـ/ 1382 -1220العلوية، .38م، ص 2016هـ/ 1438اآلثار، كلية اآلداب، جامعة طنطا، (29) سحر محمد القطري، العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر بشارع شريف بمدينة عرب االسكندرية في عهد أسرة محمد علي، كتاب المؤتمر الخامس عشر لالتحاد العام لآلثاريين ال م بمدينة وجدة بالمملكة المغربية في ضيافة جامعة محمد 2012أكتوبر سنة 15-13في الفترة من .1293، 1292م، ص 2012هـ /1431األول، الجزء الثاني، وجدة، السعيدية، المملكة المغربية، 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 470 وهي أقل أهمية ومساحة من الواجهات الرئيسية، وتوجد الواجهات الثانوية؛ - ها وعناصرها أقل عليها الفراغات الداخلية المساعدة واألقل أهمية، كما أن مفردات اتساعا من الواجهات الرئيسية في أغلب المباني (30) . الخديوي عباس على أربع واجهات خارجية منهم واجهة بازار ولقد اشتمل التى تطل على شارع البازار، وهي عبارة رئيسية، وهي الواجهة الجنوبية الشرقية المدخل، وقسمان عن ثالثة أقسام رئيسية تتضمن قسم أوسط يحتوي على كتلة جانبيان متطابقان تماما مع بعضها البعض من حيث امتداد وارتفاع كل منهما، ومن حيث أنواع العقود والدعائم وعدد المحالت السفلية وأشكال الشرفات )البلكونات( التي تتسم زخارفها بالتنوع الالنهائي في األشكال والعناصر الزخرفية العلوية زهر المسبوكالمصنوعة من معدن ال (31) ، أما فيما يتعلق بالواجهتين الشمالية الشرقية والجنوبية الغربية فهما من الواجهات الثانوية األقل أهمية من الواجهة الرئيسية، غير منهما تتطابق مع األخرى حيث خضعت كل منهما ألسلوب هندسي منتظم أن كال تطل على ممرات جانبية يالصقها يعتمد على المحالت السفلية والشبابيك العلوية التي .سور محكم يفصل بينها وبين المباني المالصقة لها ومما يسترعي االنتباه أن ظاهرة التطابق بين الواجهات الثانوية في المنشآت من قبل في سوق الخديوي تالتجارية التي ترجع إلى القرن التاسع عشر، قد ظهر الذي أمر بانشائه الخديوي توفيق سنة توفيق بالعتبة الخضراء بمدينة القاهرة و م1892وتم االنتهاء من البناء سنة م،1886 (32) ، والواقع أن سوق الخديوي عباس ، وافتتح في عهد 1891حلمي الثاني قد شيد في نهاية فترة حكم الخديوي توفيق سنة ا مثيالتهبازار عباس بواجهات نجله الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني مما يوضح لنا تأثر فلقد ئة الغربية المالصقة لمبنى المطافسوق الخديوي توفيق، أما الواجهة الشماليفي تىنجح المعمار في معالجتها وكأنها واجهة حرة بشكل كامل حيث تشتمل على اثن نافذة علوية مستطيلة الشكل ذات شبابيك من الخشب الشيش. رةعش (30) رانيا رجب عبدالمقصود، أثر التهوية الطبيعية على التشكيل المعماري مع دراسة لمفردات .96، 95م،ص2009الواجهات، مخطوط رسالة ماجسير،قسم العمارة،كلية الهندسة،جامعة القاهرة، (31) يعد هذا النوع من الزخارف ذات األفاريز الهندسية المصنوعة من الزهر المسبوك طرازا مميزا من الزخرفة التي كانت واسعة االنتشار في فرنسا إبان عصر اإلمبراطورية الثانية، وامتد م؛ حيث كانت ذات تأثيرا زخرفيا على 1890 – 1880هذا الطراز من الزخرفة حتى األعوام المنازل والفيالت الفرنسية. .35لوكونت، بورسعيد عمارة القرن التاسع عشر والقرن العشرين، ص –ماري لوركرونيه - - Marie Laure Crosnier – Lecont, Port-Said, P 35. (32) – 1886حسن نجم، سوق الخديوي توفيق بالعتبة الخضراء بمدينة القاهرة، عبدالمنصف سالم ، المعهد الفرنسي لآلثار الشرقية، 44م، دراسة وثائقية، مجلة حوليات إسالمية، العدد1892 .330م، ص2010 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 471 فى تصميم الواجهات الرئيسية والثانوية ىيتضح لنا مما سبق أن المعمار قد راع المعمارية والفنية التطابق في المفردات والعناصر التكرار ولبازار عباس التماثل و التي تبدو في امتداد الواجهات وارتفاعها وصفوف األبواب السفلية والشبابيك العلوية، ة خالية من أي وأنماط الرفارف واألفاريز الخشبية، كما أن الواجهات جاءت مستوي أكتاف أو أعمدة باستثناء الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية، عالوة على استخدام ، والتماثل بين الواجهات تناسقسامها بالاألسطح المستوية الخالية من التفاصيل وات وفي التخطيط، وكثرة استخدام فتحات النوافذ ذات الشبابيك الشيش، وجعلها عنصرا اصر الواجهة لكي تكون وجه من أوجه الجمال الخارجي للمنشأة، ومما من عن أساسيا الشك فيه أن ذلك يعد من أهم سمات طراز عصر النهضة الفرنسي (33) ، 3)شكل رقم ، 9، 8، 7، 6، 5، 4، 3، 2، 1)لوحة رقم ( 12، 11، 10، 9، 8، 7، 6، 5، 4، 3 بازارأهم سمات هذا الطراز بواجهات ، وسوف نتناول فيما يلي(13، 12، 11، 10 -: بورسعيدالخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني بمدينة  . تطابق واجهات الجناحين الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي مع بعضها تماما  ،تماثل الجهتين اليمنى واليسرى من الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية مع بعضها م والشرفات )البلكونات( والشبابيك.ويظهر ذلك في طراز العقود والدعائ  االعتناء بالمدخل الرئيسي عن طريق تتويجه بجبهة علوية تتكون من فرنتون حدى السمات التي ميزت العمارة في عصر النهضةإمثلث الشكل تعد (34) .  تأثر الواجهة الرئيسية بطراز عصر النهضة الفرنسي والطراز الكالسيكي استخدام العقود والتكنة التي تعلو المدخل، والفرنتون المستحدث، ويظهر ذلك في المثلث الذي يتوسطه حلية دائرية عليها تاريخ االنشاء، ووحدات النوايا واألسنان التي تؤطر الفرنتون (35) . (33) شاع استخدام طراز عصر النهضة الفرنسي في مصر بصفة عامة وفي مدن الدلتا على وجه صف الثاني من القرن التاسع عشر والنصف األول من القرن العشرين، ويرجع الخصوص خالل الن السبب في ذلك لمشروع حفر قناة السويس، واستجالب عدد كبير من الجاليات األوروبية، نسمة، 1392حوالى 1897وخصوصا الفرنسيين اللذين بلغت أعدادهم في مدن القناة عام مدينة بورسعيد وتخطيطها من قبل إدارة فرنسية، ومن أهم باالضافة إشرافهم الكامل على إنشاء م.1891هـ/ 1309نماذج طراز عصر النهضة الفرنسي بمدينة بورسعيد بازار عباس سنة أحمد رجب يوسف، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن القناة في عصر األسرة العلوية، ص - 317. (34) .337العتبة الخضراء بمدينة القاهرة، صعبدالمنصف نجم، سوق الخديوي توفيق ب - Fletcher Banister, A history of architecture, London, 1961, P. 661. (35) أحمد رجب يوسف، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن القناة في عصر األسرة العلوية، ص 317. 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 472  عمارة جنوب أوروبا وجزرالبحر المتوسط ذات األصول وضوح تأثيرات وسمات الفرنسية على الواجهات.  ات العقود النصف دائرية والمرجونية في الواجهة الرئيسية.استعمال البواكي ذ -المداخل واألبواب: -ج -المداخل: - ما في تكوين واجهات العمائر األثرية اإلسالمية، وكونت هملعبت المداخل دورا عنصرا معماريا زخرفيا بالغ األهمية (36) ، وتعتبر المداخل واألبواب من العناصر فهي التي تصل المبني بما يحيط به من شوارع وحارات، لذلك الهامة في أي مبني، فهى ُتعد من عناصر االتصال والحركة في المباني التي لها عالقة وطيدة بالشوارع التي تطل عليها (37) من الناحيتين المعمارية ، ونتيجة لذلك زاد اهتمام المعمار بها والزخرفية (38) تجارية بالشارع، ومن ، فهي أول الصالت االتي تربط المنشأة ال المالحظ أن مداخل المنشآت التجارية كانت تفتح على داخل المنشأة مباشرة بخالف ما نالحظه من مداخل منكسرة في المنشأت العامة، لذلك جاءت مداخلها تفتح من الواجهات الرئيسية إلى داخل المنشأة مباشرة (39) . ريدة من نوعها بين طرز والواقع أن مدخل بازار عباس يعد من المداخل الف ومداخل القرن التاسع عشر، حيث يتخد المدخل شكل بائكة تتكون من صفين من الدعائم الحجرية التي يبلغ عددها أربعة دعائم تحمل ثالثة عقود مرجونية بكل صف، داخل البازار مباشرة، حيث تؤدي فتحة ىلإوتفضى الفتحات المحصورة بين العقود الي الرواق الذى يتوسط الفناء، بينما تؤدي الفتحتان اليمنى عقد المدخل األوسط بالذكرواليسرى الى القسمين الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي من الفناء، والجدير ومن ثم يعد هذا البازار أن فتحات الدخول الي البازار لم يكن يغلق عليها أية أبواب، مباشرة دون أية والخروج من خاللها حيث كان يتم الدخولمن البازارات المفتوحة، عوائق، واقتصر وجود األبواب فقط علي فتحات المداخل الخاصة بالحوانيت والحواصل بالطابق األرضي، والغرف السكنية الخاصة بالفندق المقام فى الطابق (36) الدخول، ويقصد به في المصطلح المدخل بفتح الميم وسكون الدال جمع مداخل، وهو موضع األثري المعماري الفتحة أو الباب الذي يتم الدخول منه. .267عاصم رزق، معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون االسالمية، ص - (37) سحر القطري، العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية بوجهات العمائر بشارع شريف بمدينة . 1293االسكندرية، ص (38) عبدالجواد، واجهات القصور بمحافظتي الغربية والمنوفية بالنصف الثاني من القرن تفيدة محمد ، دراسة أثرية للعناصر المعمارية والزخرفية، كتاب 20وحتي نهاية النصف االول من القرن 19 المؤتمر الرابع عشر لالتحاد العام لآلثاريين العرب، جامعة الدول العربية ومركز مؤتمرات جامعة .711م، ص2011ة، اكتوبر القاهر (39) .256ضياء زهران، المنشأت التجارية بمدينة القاهرة في القرن التاسع عشر الميالدي، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 473 العلوي والتي كانت معزولة تماما عن الطابق األرضي، حيث كان يتم الوصول إليها غة عن طريق ساللم خشبية موجودة في الممرين الجانبيين اللذان يتقدمان بصعوبة بال الجناح الشمالى الغربى، وتؤدي هذه الساللم الي معبرة خشبية علوية، وهى تعد من )شكل ة الخاصة بالفندق بالطابق العلوييالسكنالحركة واالتصال بين الغرف وسائل .(35، 21، 20، 19، 18، 17، 16، 15، 14)لوحة رقم ( 14، 11، 6رقم -األبواب: - تتميز األبواب الخشبية الواردة بحوانيت ومحالت الطابق األرضي واألبواب الخاصة بالغرف السكنية فى الطابق العلوي بتوافقها مع شكل ووظيفة المبنى، حيث تكونت أبواب المحالت والغرف السكنية من ألواح موضوعة بجانب بعضها البعض ة عوارض خشبية، بينما تشتمل أبواب الشرفات التي تطل علي ومثبتة بواسط الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية بالطابق العلوي على ضلفتين تتألف كل منهما من حشوة سفلية مستطيلة وأربعة أقسام أخرى علوية مستطيلة من الخشب الشيش، وتشبه العلوي، وتحتوي هذه األبواب هذه األبواب الشبابيك الخاصة بالغرف السكنية بالطابق لف خلفية من الزجاج المعشق في الخشب، ويتم غلق هذا النوع من دعلي من الداخل األبواب والشبابيك بواسطة السبيونة (40) . ومن المالحظ أن هذا النوع من األبواب والشبابيك المصنوعة من الخشب الشيش الوافدة الي مصر خالل القرن يعد من التأثيرات األوروبية من فرنسا المستورد التاسع عشر حيث استخدم هذا النوع من الخشب فى جميع أنواع األبواب والشبابيك الشيش الواردة بالغرف السكنية والشرفات الخاصة بالفندق بالطابق العلوى للبازار. -النوافذ والشبابيك:-د النوافذ: - عرفت العمارة االسالمية أنواعا مختلفة من النوافذ (41) كان منها المستطيل ولقد بدأت النوافذ في العمارة االسالمية في مصر ، والمربع والدائري والبيضاوي بسيطة متواضعة، وجاءت المطالت منها على صحون األبنية كبيرة وواسعة لتزويد (40) السبيونة: هي عبارة عن سيخ من الحديد مبروم ذات يد من النحاس أو الحديد وفي نهايتها والشبابيك. خطاف متحرك يستخدم في تثبيت الضلف الخشبية والزجاجية الخاصة باألبواب م(، 1879 - 1805محمد علي عبدالحفيظ، المصطلحات في وثائق عصر محمد علي وخلفاؤه ) - .109م، ص 2005، 1ط (41) النافذة جمع نوافذ، وهي الفتحة في الجدار ينفذ عنها الضوء والهواء إلى داخل المبنى، ويستخدم ة التي تخترق الحائط من جانب إلى لفظ النافذة في المصطلح األثري المعماري للداللة على الطاق آخر بغرض التهوية واالضاءة. . 314عاصم رزق، معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون االسالمية، ص - 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 474 المطالت منها على الشوارع تميزت هذه األبنية باالضاءة والتهوية الالزمة لها، بينما ضيقة عالية حتى ال تكون سببا في حرج حرمة من بالداخلبأنها والطرقات (42) . مة التي اعتنى بها المعمار في هموتعد فتحات النوافذ من العناصر المعمارية ال بازار عباس، ويرجع ذلك لسببين: األول منها يتمثل في توفير االضاءة والتهوية العلوي من البازار، والثاني أنها الطابق في الفندق الموجود السكنية بغرف اللجميع باالضافة إلى ما ،من عناصر الواجهات الرئيسية والفرعية أساسيا تعد عنصرا .تضيفه على هذه الواجهات من مسحة جمالية وزخرفية ومن الالفت للنظر أن جميع فتحات النوافذ والشبابيك الخاصة بسوق الخديوي جميعها بواجهات الطابق العلوي حيث هرت ظعباس حلمي الثاني بمدينة بورسعيد قد تفتح على الغرف السكنية بالفندق الذي يعلو البازار، وتميزت هذه النوافذ باالتساع والشكل المستطيل، وقسمت النوافذ إلى مساحات رأسية يفصلها عن بعض فواصل ن رأسية، ومن ثم نتج عنها قلة مساحة الجدران بواجهات الطابق العلوي، وهي تعد م للطراز الفرنسي، وقد جاءت فتحات النوافذ على النحو المميزة السمات العامة -التالي:  فتحة نافذة مستطيلة بالواجهات العلوية للغرف السكنية الخاصة بالجناح ةعشر سبع الشمالي الشرقي.  فتحة نافذة مستطيلة بالواجهات العلوية بالغرف السكنية بالجناح ةعشر سبع الجنوبي الغربي.  فتحة نافذة مستطيلة بالواجهة العلوية الشمالية الغربية للغرف السكنية ةعشر تاثنا بالجناح الشمالي الغربي.  فتحات نوافذ مربعة الشكل تكتنف كتلة المدخل من الجانبين بواقع أربعة نوافذ ثمان بكل جانب بالواجهة العلوية الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية المطلة على شارع البازار .  أربع فتحات نوافذ مستطيلة الشكل بالواجهة العلوية الداخلية للجناح الجنوبي الشرقي تطل مع القسم أخرتان بواقع نافذتين تطل على القسم الشمالي الشرقي من الفناء، و اء.الجنوبي الغربي من الفن  نافذتان مستطيلتان تطل على الرواق الذى يتوسط الفناء، وهما أصغر حجما من الخلفية الشمالية الغربية لكتلة المدخل ذات النوافذ السابقة، وتوجد كل منهما بالجهة الجبهة المثلثة الشكل. الشبابيك: - للبازار من أهم السمات المعمارية التي تميز واجهات الفندق بالطابق العلوي كثرة عدد الشبابيك (43) سلوب يتسم بالتماثل والتناسق أالمتراصة بجانب بعضها ب -موزعة كما يلى: والتناظر والتكرار، ويبلغ عدد هذه الشبابيك ستون شباكا (42) . 314عاصم رزق، معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون االسالمية، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 475  الشمالى الشرقى والجنوبى الغربى، وهى عبارة بالجناحين أربع وثالثون شباكا يحتوى كل جناح على سبعة شبابيك تفتح حيث بكل جناح، عن سبعة عشر شباكا على الفناء، وأخرى تفتح على الممر الخلفي، وشباكان يفتحان على الممر على شارع يطل الفاصل بين الجناحين السابقين والجناح الشمالى الغربى، وشباك البازار.  بالجناح الشمالي الغربي تفتح جميعها على مبنى المطافي الواقع عشر شباكا اإثن بالجهة الشمالية الغربية من البازار.  على يمين ويسار الجبهة المثلثة الشكل التي تتوج كتلة المدخل تقع ثمانية شبابيك بالواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية، والشبابيك موزعة على الجانبين بواقع أربعة بكل جانب. شبابيك  ستة شبابيك تقع بالواجهة العلوية الداخلية لكتلة المدخل وتطل على الفناء الخاص على القسم الشمالى الشرقى من الفناء، ويفتح ابالبازار، حيث يفتح اثنان منهم ن على والشباكان اآلخران على القسم الجنوبي الغربي من الفناء، بينما يطل اآلخر فناء.الرواق الذى يتوسط ال ومما يسترعي االنتباه أن جميع الشبابيك الواردة بالبازار مصنوعة من الخشب لف دالشيش الذي يتكون من شرائح خشبية رقيقة تستخدم في عمل مصاريع األبواب و الشبابيك التي توجد خلف الزجاج لتمنع الضوء وتسمح بمرور الهواء (44) ، وكان لف الشمسية أي التي تقي من دمصطلح اليطلق على هذا النوع من الشبابيك الشيش لى مصر في عهد إحرارة الشمس، وهي تعد من التأثيرات األوروبية التي وفدت محمد علي باشا وخلفاؤه؛ حيث جاءت هذه الشبابيك على الطراز األوروبي وحلت محل المشربيات (45) ، ولقد كانت ألواح الشيش التي تصنع منها هذه الشبابيك تباع تستورد من الخارجبالربطة و (46) .(37، 36)لوحة رقم (43) ي المصطلح الشبابيك: جمع شباك بتشديد الشين والباء وضم أولها وفتح ثانيها، ويقصد بها ف األثري المعماري النافذة، ولقد ورد في الوثائق بعدة صيغ منها: شباك خرط، وشباك حديد، وشباك نحاس. محمد محمد أمين، ليلى علي ابراهيم، المصطلحات المعمارية في الوثائق المملوكية، الجامعة - .69م، ص 1990م، 1411األمريكية، القاهرة، (44) . 119ات المعمارية في وثائق عصر محمد علي وخلفاؤه، ص محمد عبدالحفيظ، المصطلح (45) مختار عادل مختار القزاز، منشآت الري والصرف الزراعي في شرق الدلتا إبان عصر أسرة محمد علي في ضوء عمائر جديدة لم يسبق دراستها، دراسة أثرية معمارية، مخطوط رسالة . 241، 240م، ص 2015هـ/ 1436ن، ماجستير، قسم األثار، كلية األداب، جامعة حلوا (46) مصطفى إبراهيم خلف، منشأت صناعة األقطان في الوجه البحري في عصر أسرة محمد علي باشا، دراسة أثرية وثائقية، مخطوط رسالة دكتوراه، قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية، كلية اآلثار، جامعة .119م، ص 2012القاهرة، 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 476 -:والعقود الدعائم -هـ :الدعائم - الدعائم (47) أكتاف مربعة أو مستطيلة أو دائرية أو نصف دائرية عبارة عن هي تستند عليها سقوف العمائر المختلفة إما بشكل مباشر وإما على بوائك أو عقود فوق هذه الدعائم (48) بمعني الدعائم لحمل السقوف وتقوية ، وترد األعمدة أحيانا الجدران (49) ، ولقد استعملت الدعائم في بازار عباس على نطاق واسع بدال من األعمدة، ولعل ذلك يرجع إلى أن الدعائم أكثر قدرة على تحمل األحمال الثقيلة من األعمدة. ى ولقد اعتمد المعمار على الدعائم الحجرية المربعة في حمل سقف الرواق الذ يتوسط الفناء حيث يرتكز السقف على خمسة دعائم بالجهة الشمالية الشرقية، ومثيالتها بالجهة األخرى المقابلة لها الجنوبية الغربية، كما ترتكز صفوف العقود المرجونية التي تتوج المدخل، والعقود النصف دائرية التي تحمل سقف الممر الذي مربعة حجرية دعامة ةعشر شرقية على ستلرئيسية الجنوبية اليتقدم الواجهة ا ، وهكذا يتضح لنا أن المعمار اعتمد على الدعائم بدال من األعمدة في الروافع الشكل الخاصة بالبازار. -العقود: - تعد العقود (50 ) مة التي كانت معروفة وشائعة قبل هممن االبتكارات المعمارية ال انتشارها وتعددت أشكالها وتنوعت سالمي بقرون عديدة، وقد زاد العصر اإل مسحة جمالية استخداماتها في العمارة االسالمية، حيث أضفت على العمائر المختلفة زخرفية، عالوة علي أغراضها الوظيفية والمعمارية (51) ، ولقد انحصرت أنواع العقود المستخدمة في بازار عباس في عقدين اثنين فقط وهما العقد النصف الدائري المرجوني. والعقد (47) الدال وكسرها، وهي عماد البيت الذي يقوم عليه، وركيزة لحمل الدعائم: جمع دعامة بتشديد السقف ليمنعه من السقوط، فيرتفع السقف على دعائم بدال من العواميد. .47محمد أمين، ليلى ابراهيم، المصطلحات المعمارية في الوثائق المملوكية، ص - (48) .108عاصم رزق، معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون اإلسالمية، ص (49) مهدي صالح فرج العتابي، العمود في العمارة اإلسالمية، دراسة تحليلية لألبعاد والمضامين، .47، 45م، ص 2014مجلة القادسية للعلوم الهندسية، المجلد السابع، العدد الثاني، (50) العقد بفتح العين وسكون القاف، وهو ما عقد من البناء في هيئة القوس، ويقصد بالعقد في لح االثري المعماري وحدة معمارية بنائية ذات هيئة مقوسة أيا كان نوعها.المصط .190عاصم رزق ، معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون االسالمية، ص - (51) محمد حمزة، العمارة االسالمية في مصر منذ الفتح االسالمي حتي تاريخ عهد محمد علي ، .135، 134م ، ص1848-1517هـ / 1265 -923 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 477  :العقد النصف الدائري- هو العقد الذي يرسم قوسه علي هيئة نصف دائرة بغير تدبيب في قمته أو تطويل في أرجلة أو أطرافه، وقد استخدم هذا النوع من العقود في العمارة األرمينية ثم انتقل لي العمارة االسالميةإمنها (52) بمدينة القاهرة بكثرة في المنشآت التجارية كما ظهر، م19هـ /13خالل القرن (53) . ومن أهم النماذج علي استخدام العقود النصف دائرية ببازار عباس العقود النصف دائرية التي تزين الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية التي تطل علي شارع عقود البازار، وقوامها أربعة عقود نصف دائرية بالقسم األيمن من الواجهة، وأربعة عقود هذين القسمين مع تتطابق أخرى بالقسم األيسر من الواجهة حيث تتماثل و بعضهما البعض تماما، وهناك زوج آخر من العقود النصف دائرية التي تقع فى ردهة المدخل الرئيسي من الجهتين الشمالية الشرقية والجنوبية الغربية ويبلغ بذلك ر عشرة عقود توجد جميعها بالواجهه الرئيسية عدد العقود النصف دائرية بالبازا .(12، 11، 9، 2( )لوحة رقم 10، 9 ،8، 5، 4)شكل رقم للبازار  :العقد المرجوني- يعرف هذا العقد بعدة أسماء منها: العقد النصف القطع الناقص، والعقد البيضاوي سلوب رسم أ ىمن تسميته بالعقد المرجوني ال والعقد المرجوني، حيث يرمي البعض عدة مراكز، وكيفما كان الحال فان هذا العقد بيضاوي الشكل ةالعقد بواسط ىمنحن مهما اختلفت التسميات الخاصة به (54) عباس مبنى بازارفي ولقد ظهر هذا العقد ، جاءت كتلة المدخل على هيئة بائكة تتكون من صفين من العقود المرجونية حيث الشكل عبارة عن ستة عقود مرجونية هاغ عددويبل المحمولة على دعائم حجرية، ثالثة عقود بكل صف من صفوف البائكة التي تتوسط الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية ( 14، 13، 6)شكل رقم لى فناء البازارمباشرة إوتفضى فتحات هذه العقود الشرقية، .(21، 20، 19، 18، 17، 16، 15، 14)لوحة رقم -األسقف: -و الجمالونية:األسقف - السقف الجمالوني (55) هو عبارة عن سقف مكون من هيكل مثلث الشكل لجأ إليه المعماريون في البالد الممطرة والباردة التي يتساقط فيها الجليد لتغطية عمائرهم، (52) .190م رزق، معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون االسالمية، صعاص (53) . 252ضياء زهران، المنشآت التجارية بمدينة القاهرة في القرن التاسع عشر الميالدي، ص (54) احمد رجب يوسف، واجهات العمارة الدينية والمدينة بمدن القناة في عصر االسرة العلوية، .343ص (55) لها جمل زيدت عليها الواو والنون للتصغير حسب قواعد السريانية، الجمالون كلمة سريانية أص وأصبح معناها الجمل الصغير، وبه يشبه السقف المحدب فيقال جمالون أي السقف المسنم، ولقد 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 478 وهو ذو أصل معماري قديم حيث ظهر في المعابد اإلغريقية في األسقف المصنوعة د، وكان من أهم أسباب ظهوره فيها هو الجبهة من الخشب المغطى بقطع القرمي األمامية المثلثة الشكل التي ينحدر جانبها بسقف مائل ومنحدر إلى أسفل (56) ، وقد غريقي إلى العصرين انتقل استخدام األسقف الخشبية والجمالونية من العصر اإل الروماني والمسيحي المبكر في ايطاليا واألقطار الشرقية (57) . المناخ في شدة انحدار األسقف حيث كانت تغطي العمائر في شمال ووسط وتحكم أوروبا باألسقف شديدة الميل، بينما جاءت األسقف في جنوب أوروبا وجزر البحر المتوسط قليلة االنحدار والميل (58) ، وقد استخدم السقف الجمالوني في العصر المسجد األمويو االسالمي المبكر في قبة الصخرة (59) في بكثرة ستخدم في مصر ، وا عمائر القرن التاسع عشر بسبب انتشار األجانب وشروعهم في بناء منشآتهم على نفس الطراز الذي ساد في بالدهم األصلية، واشباعا لرغبتهم التي تركوها في موطنهم األصلي (60) ، ولقد جاءت هذه األسقف تقليدا لسقوف العمارة األوروبية الجمالوني ال يتناسب إال مع البيئة المطيرة القوطية، حيث أن السقف (61) ، ومن المالحظ أن الحديد قد لعب دورا في هذا النوع من األسقف الجمالونية والمخروطية حيث كانت تتكون من جمالونات ترتكز على عوارض مقامة بدورها على قوائم معدنية (62) . التي تم تغطيتها من أهم المنشآت لخديوي عباس حلمي الثانيا بازارويعتبر باألسقف الجمالونية بمدينة بورسعيد خالل عصر أسرة محمد على باشا، حيث شاع لفظ جمالون بين اآلثاريين على أنه سقف مبني على شكل سنام الجمل حيث يكون مائال من أحد طرفيه. منشآت الري والصرف الزراعي في شرق الدلتا إبان عصر أسرة محمد مختار القزاز، - .223علي،ص .30محمد أمين، ليلي إبراهيم، المصطلحات المعمارية في الوثائق المملوكية، ص - (56) أمينة أحمد مجاهد منشاوي، التأثيرات القوطية على العمائر االسالمية والقبطية بمدينتي القاهرة رن التاسع عشر والعقد األول من القرن العشرين، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، واالسكندرية خالل الق .222م، ص2011كلية اآلثار، جامعة القاهرة، (57) .206آمال العمري، المنشآت التجارية في القاهرة في العصر المملوكي، ص (58) رسالة بدر عبدالعزيز بدر، العمارة اإلسالمية في قبرص، دراسة آثارية حضارية، مخطوط .487م، ص 2007هـ/1428دكتوراه، قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية، كلية اآلثار، جامعة القاهرة، (59) أمينة منشاوي، التأثيرات القوطية على العمائر االسالمية والقبطية بمدينتي القاهرة .223واالسكندرية، ص (60) ة محمد على، مختار القزاز، منشآت الري والصرف الزراعي في شرق الدلتا إبان عصر أسر .224ص (61) أمينة منشاوي، التأثيرات القوطية على العمائر االسالمية والقبطية بمدينتي القاهرة .223واالسكندرية، ص (62) .138عبدالمنصف نجم، سوق الخديوي توفيق بالعتبة الخضراء بمدينة القاهرة، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 479 استخدمت األسقف الجمالونية في تغطية الطابق العلوي بكل من الجناحين الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي، والقسم األوسط من كتلة المدخل ذات الجبهة المثلثة الشكل غطية هذه األسقف بالقرميد لحمايتها من أشعة الشمس وقد حرص المعمار على ت .(32، 31، 30)لوحة رقم الساقطة عليها -األسقف المائلة )النصف جمالونية(: - هذا النوع من األسقف يكون مركبا على حائطين بحيث يكون أحدهما وهو الداخلي ارتفاعه أعلى من الثاني الخارجي الذي يكون في الغالب محمول على دعامات أو قوائم من الخشب، ويتكون هذا السقف من عروق خشبية متكأة على مخدة ، وتغطي هذه الخارجي خشبية في الحائط المرتفع الداخلي وعلى مدات في الحائط األسقف ألواح من خشب الموسكي، ثم تغطي هذه األلواح بقطع القراميد، ويوجد فى ب حتى سطح يراتجري في مزل ارنهاية انحدار السقف مجرى تجميع مياه األمط األرض (63) ، ومن أهم النماذج على هذا النوع من األسقف المائلة أو النصف جمالونية سقف الطابق العلوي بالجناح الشمالي الغربي بسوق الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني ، حيث يعد من النماذج النادرة على األسقف المائلة التي المعروف ببازار عباس .(33)لوحة رقم ر مدينة بورسعيد في عصر أسرة محمد علي باشاظهرت بعمائ -األسقف المسطحة: - و السقف البسط، هو سقف أطلق عليه أهل الصنعة سقف دمس، أالسقف المسطح ويتكون هذا السقف من مستوى واحد من البراطيم أوالعروق التي تتحمل ضغط البناء (64) بألواح من الخشب حتى يظهر السقف ، وقد ُتغطي العروق الخشبية من أسفل كله كمسطح واحد، ويستخدم هذا النوع من األسقف في تغطية المساحات الصغيرة (65) ، وساد هذا التسقيف في مصر نظرا ألنه يالئم طبيعة مناخ مصر وجفافه (66) . وقد استخدمت األسقف المسطحة في تغطية الممر الذي يتقدم الواجهة الرئيسية، كذلك يتوسط فناء البازار، والحوانيت والمحالت بالطابق األرضي، ووالرواق الذى القسمين األيمن واأليسر من الممر الذى يعلو كتلة المدخل ويوصل بين تغطية الجناحين الشمالى الشرقى والجنوبى الغربى. (63) ر أسرة محمد علي، مختار القزاز، منشآت الري والصرف الزراعي في شرق الدلتا في عص .229ص (64) زينب سيد رمضان، األسقف الخشبية في العصر العثماني، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم .251م، ص 1992اآلثار اإلسالمية، كلية اآلثار، جامعة القاهرة، (65) محمود سعد الجندي، أشغال الخشب بعمائر القاهرة الدينية، في العصر المملوكي الجركسي م(، مخطوط رسالة دكتوراه، قسم اآلثار، كلية اآلداب، جامعة 1517 – 1382/ هـ923 – 784) .200م، ص 2007هـ/1428طنطا، (66) .255ضياء زهران، المنشآت التجارية بمدينة القاهرة في القرن التاسع عشر الميالدي، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 480 -الرفارف: -ز الرفرف (67) عبارة عن سقف أو بروز خشبي خارجي مائل يحمل على كوابيل مثبتة على أبعاد متنظمة في الجدران من الخارج إما منفردة أو متصلة في أزواج يجاور بعضها بعضا بذات األبعاد (68) ، وقد اعتاد المعمار أن يضع العروق الخشبية يقة يتصل بعضها للسقوف ذات الرفارف بعرض الكوابيل، ويمد منها ألواحا رق ببعض لتشكيل البروز المائل (69) ، وترجع أهمية الرفرف إلى كونه حلية معمارية تضيف جماال للمبنى باإلضافة إلى كونه عنصرا معماريا يؤدي وظيفة مهمة، وهي الحماية من الشمس والمطر. قدربوالرفارف نوعان مائلة ومستقيمة؛ أما المائلة فيكون إنزالقها أو ميلها درجة حتى تلقي بظلها كامال في حالة ميل الشمس للداخل فتمنع دخولها بمقدار 30 اليضر بصحة من بالداخل؛ أما الرفارف المستقيمة فتسقط خطوطها مباشرة وال تبدو جسيمة أو ثقيلة مثل الرفارف المائلة، باالضافة إلى أن هيئتها وسمكها يعطي قدرا لها إلى حلية معمارية تضفي على المبنى جماال كبيرا من المساحة للفنان لتحوي ورونقا (70) . يتوج جميع واجهات الطابق األرضي الذي يشغله حوانيت ومحالت البازار و رفارف خشبية بارزة عن الجدران كانت تؤطر الواجهات المطلة على الفناء ح من والممرات الجانبية والخلفية التي ال تزال بقاياها موجودة حتى اآلن، ويتض شكلها أنها كانت تضفي على الواجهات مظهرا معماريا وفنيا جميال ، عالوة على دورها في الحماية من األمطار وأشعة الشمس، كما أنها كانت ذات طراز مائل ميال خفيفا ، وترتكز على كوابيل أوعروق خشبية ذات أشكال متنوعة أحد طرفيها في قوائم خشبية. الحائط، والطرف اآلخر يستند على ولقد صممت رفارف بازار عباس على نفس نسق وطراز رفارف محالت ت اليونانية واأللبانية راالبازارات العثمانية في أوروبا وخاصة ررفارف البازا ويظهر ذلك بوضوح في البازار العلوي في مدينة آثينا في اليونان (71) وبازارات مدن (67) رج للوقاية الرفرف بتشديد الراء وفتحها جمع رفارف، وهو ما يجعل في أطراف البناء من الخا من حرارة الشمس. .124عاصم رزق، معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون اإلسالمية، ص - (68) سحر القطري، العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر بشارع شريف بمدينة .1299االسكندرية، ص (69 ) ولفرد جوزيف دللي، العمارة العربية بمصر في شرح المميزات البنائية للطراز العربي، . 26م، ص 2000ترجمة محمود أحمد، الهيئة المصرية العامة للكتاب، (70) سحر القطري، العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر بشارع شريف بمدينة .1299االسكندرية، ص (71) http://www.ottomanmonuments.blogspot.com/2011/10/upper-bazaar-of-athens- by-edward.html http://www.ottomanmonuments.blogspot.com/2011/10/upper-bazaar-of-athens-by-edward.html http://www.ottomanmonuments.blogspot.com/2011/10/upper-bazaar-of-athens-by-edward.html 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 481 في ألبانياتيرانا وبريستينيا وكورسيا وجياكوفا (72) ؛ حيث تحتوي واجهات حوانيت ومحالت هذه البازارات على رفارف خشبية بارزة عن الجدران ومائلة ميال خفيفا بهدف حماية السلع والبضائع ووقايتها من األمطار وأشعة الشمس، وترتكز هذه م الرفارف الخشبية على الحائط من أحد طرفيها بينما يستند الطرف اآلخر على قوائ خشبية، ومن ثم فإنها تشبه تماما مثيالتها من الرفارف الخشبية الواردة في بازار .(39، 34)لوحة رقم عباس الساباط )المعبرة(: -ح كون على شكل يعبارة عن سقيفة بين حائطين بينهما ممر نافذ، وغالبا ما وه كمر مسقوف بين المباني، أو في داخل بناء كبير (73) أن المهندس ومن المالحظ ، عباس قد ربط بين كل من الجناح الشمالي الغربي المعماري المصمم لبازار طاتان الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي بزوج من السابين الجانبييوالجناح (74) أو ن بين يتقع بالجزء العلوي لكل من الممرين الجانبيين الموصل المعابر الخشبية التى حيث تعد من وسائل لشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي، الفناء والممرين الخلفيين ا عالوة على أنها ،لبازاراهم فى حرية التنقل بين أجنحة سالحركة واالتصال، ومن ثم ت .(39،40،42،43،44)لوحة رقم لى الغرف السكنية بالطابق العلوىإفضى مباشرة ت -الساللم الخشبية: -ط ن ين الجانبييالشمالي الغربي والجناحكان يتوسط الممر الفاصل بين الجناح من التي تتكون الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي زوج من الساللم الخشبية الثابتة مجموعة من القلبات التي ترتكز كل قلبة منهم على التي قبلها، وتنتهي كل مجموعة لية عوارض علوية وسف وولقد كان للسلم درابزين خشبي ذ من القلبات ببسطة خشبية، تربط بينها برامق خشبية، ويتم تثبيت الدرابزين (75) من أعلى بواسطة زراعين خشبيين في حوائط الجناحين الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي مع الجناح الشمالي (72) Armando kodra–Hysa, The History,form and function of the old Bazar in Tirana, PP1-13 - Shkodra, zija, Tirana, the capital of Albania, hauptstadte in sud ostevropa, geschichte, function, nationale, synbolkraft, Vienna, 1994, PP 133 – 147. ، مادة ساباط.2004، 4المعجم الوسيط، مجمع اللغة العربية، ط(73) (74) ساباط وقد ورد هذا المصطلح في الوثائق بصيغة ساباط بداير الفندق محمول الساباطات: جمع على أعمدة معلقة. .60محمد أمين، ليلى ابراهيم، المصطلحات المعمارية في الوثائق المملوكية، ص - (75) الدرابزين: أصلها يونانية ثم دخلت الفارسية وتعني القوائم األربع واستعملت للحاجز على سبيل هة بقوائمها، ويستخدم الدرابزين كحاجز للسلم والشرفات، وقد صنعت الدرابزينات من المشاب خامات عديدة مثل الخشب والمعدن. هـ/ 13رأفت عبدالرازق أبو العينين، العناصر المعمارية بواجهات قصور اإلسكندرية منذ القرن - ، دار المريخ للنشر، م، دراسة أثرية معمارية، مجلة العصور20هـ/ 14م وأوائل القرن 19 .48م، ص2014 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 482 عباس، الخديوي بازار بالغربي، ولقد تهدمت معظم أجزاء الساللم الخشبية الخاصة ة متناثرة يمكن من خاللها التعرف على طراز ولم يعد باقيا منها سوى أجزاء صغير ونوعية الساللم الخشبية التي كانت تؤدي إلى الطابق العلوي. -العناصر المعمارية: -2 الفرنتون: -أ يعد الفرنتون (76) من الوحدات المعمارية الكالسيكية المهمة التي كانت شائعة وظلت تتألق في العمارة غريقية، واستمرت في العمارة الرومانية في العمارة اإل األوروبية حتى العصر الحديث (77) ، ولقد تعددت أنواع الفرنتونات ومنها الفرنتون المنكسر عندما تترك قاعدته المثلثية مفتوحة، والفرنتون المفتوح من أعلى عندما تكون قمته مفتوحة، والفرنتون المقوس عندما تكون قمته منحنية (78) ويتوقف ارتفاع ، أو أسهم هات على مقدار اتساع الفتحات المراد تغطيتها ومقدار ارتفاعالفرنتونا تقوسها، ويوجد نوعان أصليان لهذه الوحدة المعمارية أحدهما مستقيم الجوانب مثلثي الشكل، واآلخر منحنى يبدو بهيئة قوس من دائرة، وكقاعدة قياسية فإنه كلما كانت ، والعكس غير ذلكقاعدة الفرنتون قصيرة كان ارتفاعها كبيرا (79) . (76) ، وهو االصطالح الوحيد لهذه le frantonالفرنتون: هو لفظ معرب من الكلمة الفرنسية التركيبة التي تحلي رأس العتب المستقيم، وتطلق كلمة فرنتون على تلك الوحدة المعمارية التي اجهات والمداخل والنوافذ.تتألف من بروزات تعرف بإسم الجبهة المثلثة الشكل وتتوج الو سامح فكري طه المرسي البنا، العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية في عهد األسرة العلوية في ضوء - نماذج من واجهات قصور وعمائر مدنية اسيوط، كتاب المؤتمر الخامس عشر لالتحاد العام كة المغربية في ضيافة م بمدينة وجدة بالممل2012أكتوبر 15-13لآلثاريين العرب في الفترة من م، ص 2012هـ، 1433جامعة محمد األول، الجزء األول،وجدة،السعيدية،المملكة المغربية، 1206. عبدالمنصف نجم، الطرز المعمارية والفنية لبعض مساكن األمراء في مدينة القاهرة في القرن - ية، كلية اآلثار، جامعة التاسع عشر، دراسة مقارنة، مخطوط رسالة دكتواره، قسم اآلثار اإلسالم .524م، ص 2000هـ / 1421القاهرة، (77) من أهم النماذج على العمائر األوروبية التي يزين واجهاتها هذه الوحدة المعمارية الكالسيكية م، والواجهة 1567في إيطاليا سنة Villa Rotonolaالمعروفة باسم الفرنتون، واجهة فيال في Blenheimم، وواجهة قصر بلنهايم 1664الشرقية لمتحف اللوفر في باريس بفرنسا سنة م. 1847 – 1823م، وواجهة المتحف البريطاني في لندن سنة 1705إنجلترا سنة - Nikolaus Pevsner, An outline of European Architecture, 1ondom, Great Britain, 1953, PP. 128, 129. (78) عبدالمنصف نجم، قصور األمراء والباشاوات في مدينة القاهرة في القرن التاسع عشر، دراسة . 23م، ص 2002، مكتبة زهراء الشرق، القاهرة، 2للطرز المعمارية والفنية، جـ سرة العلوية ، ص أحمد رجب يوسف، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن القناة في عصر األ - 245 ،351 . (79) سحر القطري، العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر بشارع شريف بمدينة .1304األسكندرية، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 483 والواقع أن وجود الفرنتون أسفل السقف المثلثي المنحدر جعله يرتبط ارتباطا وثيقا بوحدة معمارية أخرى وهي السقف الجمالوني حيث يعتبر الفرنتون بمثابة جبهة أو مقدمة أو قطاع للسقف الجمالوني (80) . ومن أفضل النماذج على هذا االرتباط المعماري والفني بين الفرنتون وبورسعيد بوجه عام والجمالون في عمارة القرن التاسع عشر فى مصر بوجه خاص، الفرنتون المثلث الشكل الذي يتوج كتلة المدخل بالواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية صفوف من وحدات الشرقية لبازارعباس، وهو فرنتون مغلق يؤطره من الداخل النوايا واألسنان ويتوسطه حلية دائرية مدون عليها اسم المنشئ الخديوي عباس حلمي ، ومما ال شك فيه أن هذا الفرنتون يعد انعكاسا م 1891ثاني، وتاريخ االنشاء سنة ال ، 13، 6)شكل رقم لتأثير الطرازين الكالسيكي المستحدث وعصر النهضة الفرنسي .(25، 24، 16، 15، 14قم ( )لوحة ر17، 15 التكنة: -ب الكالسيكية التي ظهرت في عمارة المعمارية تعد التكنة من أهم السمات عبارة عن عتب بسيط يتكون من ثالثة أعتاب حجرية هي القرن التاسع عشر، و بجانب بعضها مما يكسبها متانة وقوة لكي تتحمل الجهد الرأسي الواقع عليها (81) . والتكنة هي الجزء العلوي من طراز األعمدة الكالسيكية، وتتكون من ثالثة أقسام وهي الحمال أو الغرابة، واإلفريز، والكورنيش، والغرابة أو الحمال هو الجزء السفلي من التكنة بجميع الطرز، وهي الكمرة المرتكزة مباشرة على األعمدة، أما ط من التكنة، ويقع اإلفريز بين الحمال اإلفريز فهو طوق زخرفي في الجزء األوس على، أما الكورنيش فهو يمثل الجزء العلوى من التكنة،األسفل والكورنيش في األفي وهو ذو زخارف مكونة من خطوط مستمرة متداخلة (82) ، وقد ظهرت التكنة في حيث تزين الجزء العلوي من الدعائم الحجرية الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية عباسالخديوي بازار تي ترتكز عليها العقود المرجونية والنصف دائرية بال .(11)لوحة رقم ( 10، 9، 8)شكل (80) . 1206سامح البنا، العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية في عهد األسرة العلوية، ص (81) . 356القناة ، ص أحمد رجب يوسف ، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن (82) أمنية منشاوي، العمائر المسيحية في محافظة الشرقية ومدن القناة منذ عصر الخديوي عباس م، دراسة أثرية فنية مقارنة، 1952 –( 812حلمي الثاني حتى نهاية عصر األسرة العلوية ) م، 2017هـ/ 1439، مخطوط رسالة دكتوراه، قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية، كلية اآلثار، جامعة القاهرة . 259ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 484 الكوابيل: -جـ تعددت استعماالت الكوابيل (83) في أجزاء العمائر المختلفة، حيث تعتبر هي األذرع الحاملة لما فوقها من شرفات أو رفارف أو بروزات في الحائط أو كرانيش أو غير ذلك، وقد تجمع الكوابيل بين الوظيفة المعمارية والزخرفية فى آن واحد ، وقد يقتصر دورها في بعض األحيان على الجانب التكميلي التشكيلي فقط (84) ، ومن ثم من عناصر احمل ما فوقهتعلى الجدار لالكوابيل رتكز تتكون أقرب إلى الزخارف، و معمارية مختلفة (85) . ومن الالفت للنظر أن الكوابيل الخشبية قد استخدمت على نطاق واسع عروق خشبية ذات أشكال متنوعة أحد طرفيها بارز عن نشائى يتكون منإكعنصر الحائط، والطرف اآلخرمعلق فى الهواء،وقد ظهر هذا النوع من القطع الخشبية التى ال أنها فى حالة سيئة للغاية، إتؤدى نفس الدور الوظيفى للكوابيل في بازار عباس لشرفات البارزة ومن أهم النماذج على ذلك صفوف الكوابيل الخشبية التي تحمل ا التي تزين واجهة الجناح الشمالي الغربي المطلة على الفناء، وصفوف الكوابيل الخشبية التي تتكون من قطع خشبية مستطيلة تحمل الرفارف الخشبية بواجهات الجناحين الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي، وهذه الكوابيل الخشبية عبارة عن قطع لجدران. خشبية مستطيلة بارزة عن ا أما الكوابيل الحجرية فلقد اقتصر دورها على حمل البلكونات الخشبية التي تطل على الواجهه الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية، وهي ذات مقطع منحنى مزدوج مقعر من الجهة العليا ومحدب من الجهة السفلى وخالي من أية زخارف، وتعتبر الكوابيل زار عباس، اال أنها اتسمت بالبساطة وندرة من أكثر العناصر التي ظهرت في با ( 10)شكل رقمالزخارف،واقتصرت على المادة المصنوعة منها على الخشب والحجر . (41، 40، 13)لوحة رقم (83) الكوابيل: مفردها كابولي، وهي تعني في اللغة مسند بارز مثبت من طرف واحد، ويحتمل أن تكون محرفة عن مصطلح )قابول( الذي يشير لغويا إلى الساباط أو السقيفة التي تربط بين بنائين، الحائط.وذلك على أساس أن كال من الكابولي والقابول يبرز عن مستوى منصور محمد عبدالرازق ، الكوابيل في العمائر اإلسالمية بالقاهرة منذ بداية العصر المملوكي - وحتى نهاية عصر محمد علي ، دراسة معمارية فنيه، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم اآلثار . 11م، ص 2008اإلسالمية، كلية اآلثار، جامعة القاهرة، (84) مارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر بشارع شريف بمدينة سحر القطري، العناصر المع .1298األسكندرية، ص (85) . 11منصور عبدالرازق ، الكوابيل في العمارة االسالمية بالقاهرة، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 485 العناصر الفنية: -3 زخارف النوايا واألسنان: -أ تتخذ هذه الزخارف هيئة وحدات صغيرة مكعبة بارزة تشبه األسنان وتوضع بعضها البعض متراصة بجانب (86) ، حيث تزين أسفل الكرانيش بالواجهات، وتؤطر المحيط الداخلي للفرنتونات، كما توجد أسفل التكنات (87) ، وهي عبارة عن صف من قطع مستطيلة بارزة قد تتفاوت في الطول والعرض من مثال آلخر، وتعد من رة الكالسيكية، العناصر الزخرفية المميزة للطرازين األيوني والكورانثي في العما ظهر هذا العنصر الفني في الكثير من آثار العصر الروماني التي تم إحياؤها مرة كما عصر النهضةطراز والمستحدث ز الكالسيكي اطرالأخرى مع ظهور (88) . رف النوايا واألسناناوتعتبر زخ (89) من أكثر العناصر الفنية التي استخدمت في ، وطراز عصر المستحدثمدينة بورسعيد المتأثرة بالطراز الكالسيكي تزيين عمائر النهضة الفرنسي، ومن ثم ظهرت عناصر النوايا واألسنان تزين المحيط الداخلي للفرنتون المثلث الذي يتوج كتلة المدخل المطل على الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية عباس.الخديوي الشرقية لبازار مة الخماسية:الهالل والنجزخرفة -ب مة هميمثل الهالل رمزا للسيادة عند االغريق والرومان، وكان له دالالت برسول هللا لهم أثناء حروبهم، وذلك اقتداء عند العرب المسلمين حيث اتخذوه شعارا صلي هللا عليه وسلم الذي اتخذ في حروبه راية سوداء فيها هالل أبيض (90) ، والهالل (86) . 729تفيدة عبدالجواد، واجهات القصور بمحافظتي الغربية والمنوفية، ص (87) . 358ة بمدن القناة، ص أحمد رجب يوسف، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدني سحر القطري، العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر بشارع شريف بمدينة (88) .1305األسكندرية، ص ظهرت زخرفة النوايا واالسنان في العديد من النماذج التي ترجع إلى عمارة القرن التاسع عشر (89) القاهرة، وقصور مدينة أسيوط خالل عصر وبدايات القرن العشرين مثل قصر طوسون باشا بمدينة أسرة محمد علي باشا، وتعد من أكثر العناصر الزخرفية التي تزين عمائر االسكندرية، حيث جاءت متفاوتة في أحجامها تبعا لموقعها سواء كانت أسفل الرفارف والكرانيش أو تزين المحيط الداخلي اخل قصور المنوفية والغربية.للفرنتونات، كما زينت الفرنتونات التي تتوج مد –63عبدالمنصف نجم، قصور األمراء والباشوات في مدينة القاهرة في القرن التاسع عشر ص - 64 . 729تفيدة عبدالجواد، واجهات القصور بمحافظتي الغربية والمنوفية، ص - سحر القطري، العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر بشارع شريف بمدينة - 1306، 1305االسكندرية، ص .1223ص –سامح البنا، العناصر المعمارية الزخرفية في عهد األسرة العلوية - (90) م، دراسة اثرية 1886هـ / 1303سحر القطري، سراي الحقانية بمدينة االسكندرية ، لعلمية الثالثة معمارية فنية، كتاب المؤتمر الرابع عشر لإلتحاد العام لآلثاريين العرب، الندوة ا .887م، ص 2001هـ/ 1432عشر، دراسات اثار الوطن العربي، القاهرة، 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 486 لي القمر، وهو وضع من األوضاع التي يكون فيها القمر في بداية إفي حد ذاته يرمز ونهاية الشهر العربي (91) ، وتتألف عبارة عن غازات متوهجة ومشرقة، أما النجم فهو النجوم من أشكال هندسية منتظمة ذات مسار ذاتي معقد يحير العقول ويفرض التأمل المستمر (92) . لي جنب في إ دام األهلة والنجوم جنبا ولقد أقبل الفنانون المسلمون علي استخ لي ما ورد في كتاب هللا عز إسالمية استنادا شتي أنواع الفنون التطبيقية والعمائر اإل وجل من ذكر األهلة والنجوم (93) ، حيث قال تعالى: )ألم تر أن هللا يسجد له من في السماوات ومن في األرض والشمس والقمر والنجوم( (94) ألونك عن ، وقال أيضا )يس (جاألهلة قل هى مواقيت للناس والح (95) ، وقوله تعالي )والنجم إذا هوى ما ضل صاحبكم وما غوى( (96) ، وقوله أيضا )وهو الذي جعل لكم النجوم لتهتدوا بها في ظلمات البر والبحر( (97) ، ومما ال شك فيه أن تلك اآليات وغيرها تعد العامل والنجوم في الفن االسالمي، نظرا لما تبعثه من األساسي في شيوع استخدام األهلة أثر إيجابي ملهم في نفوس الفنانين المسلمين (98) ولقد انتشرت زخارف األهلة ، والنجوم في الفنون العثمانية، حيث يعتبر العثمانيون أول من أضافوها الى الفن م م، وكان العل1566-1520العثماني منذ عصر السلطان سليمان القانوني سنة العثماني في بداية األمر بداخله هالل ونجمة سداسية، وظلت هذه النجمة حتي حكم م 1807–1789السلطان سليم الثالث سنة (99) . (91) عبدالمنصف نجم، شعار العثمانين علي العمائر والفنون في القرنين الثاني عشر والثالث عشر م( وحتي إلغاءالسلطنة العثمانية، دراسه أثرية فنية، مجلة كلية االثار، العدد19 -18الهجريين ) .179، ص2005م، كلية اآلثار، جامعة القاهرة، 2004العاشر، (92) إسالم محمد منصورأبونوار، الحليات المعمارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر المدنية بطنطا في م، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم 1952 – 1805هـ/ 1372–1220عصر األسرة العلوية، 337م، ص 2016م / 1437اآلثار، كلية االداب، جامعة طنطا، (93) ترمز النجوم عند المسيحين إلي األلقاب الخاصة بالسيد المسيح، كما أنها تشير إلى أن السيدة العزراء ملكة متوجة في السماء بإثنى عشر نجما ، واستخدمت أشكال النجوم منذ بداية العصر م. 657هـ / 72االسالمي، حيث ظهرت علي الدراهم األموية وفسيفاء قبة الصخرة سنة .887سحر القطري، سراي الحقانية بمدينة االسكندرية، ص - (94) . 18القرآن كريم، سورة الحج ، آية رقم (95) .189القرآن كريم، سورة البقرة، أية رقم (96) . 2، 1القرآن كريم، سورة النجم، أية رقم (97) . 97القرآن كريم، سورة االنعام، آية رقم (98) .887سراي االلحقائية بمدينة االسكندرية، ص سحر القطري، . 337اسالم ابو نوار، الحليات المعمارية والزخرفية بوجهات العمائر المدنية بطنطا، ص - (99) عبد المنصف نجم ، شعار العثمانين علي العمائر والفنون في القرنين الثاني عشر والثالث عشر .180الهجريين، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 487 ولقد اتخذ محمد علي باشا علم مصر علي نفس نمط العلم العثماني في سنة في ى كان يكمن م، إال أن الفرق بين العلم العثماني والعلم المصر 1826هـ / 1242 نجوم خماسية األطراف بدال من النجوم السداسية األطراف فى اأن العلم المصري ذ العلم العثماني (100) لمصر في التاريخ ، ويعتبر محمد علي باشا أول من وضع علما الحديث، وكان العلم عل شكل مستطيل أحمر اللون ذو هالل ونجمة خماسية باللون األبيض (101) حلت النجمة الخماسية محل النجمة م 1878هـ/ 1295، وفي عام السداسية علي العلم العثماني، وعندما تولي الخديوي اسماعيل حكم مصر سنة م جعل العلم المصري يشتمل علي هالل ونجمة خماسية األطراف 1867هـ/ 1284 مكررة ثالث مرات إشارة الي سلطة خديوي مصر علي األقاليم الثالثة مصر والنوبة والسودان (102) . م، والذي 1882هـ/ 1300وارتدت مصر إلي العلم العثماني المعروف في عام م، حيث 1914هـ/1333يتكون من هالل ونجمة خماسية وظل مستخدما حتي عام صار علم الدولة المصرية واألسطول و السفن التجارية والمنشأت الحكومية أحمر اللون يتوسطه هالل أبيض قبالته نجم به خمس فروع (103) . عباس بالواجهة الخديوي توج الجبهة المثلثة الشكل التي تعلو مدخل بازاروي الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية قائم خشبي ينتهي بشكل الهالل والنجمة الخماسية األطراف، حيث يرمز كل منهما الي العلم المصري الذى يمثل شعار الدولة المصرية الحلية الدائرية التى تتوسط الفرنتون ويتفق ذلك مع تاريخ إنشاء البازار المسجل علي بازار م، ومما ال شك فيه أن تتويج قمة مدخل 1891المثلث الشكل وهو تاريخ سنة الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني بمدينة بورسعيد بالشعار الرسمي للدولة المصرية يبعث وخاصة والعاملين بالبازار لي جميع التجاروالطمأنينة إعلى السكينة ويمنح األمن (100) الملك والرمز وشعار المملكة علي الفنون والعمائر في القرن التاسع عبدالمنصف نجم، شارة عشر وحتي نهاية االسرة العلوية، دراسة أثرية فنية، كتاب المؤتمر الثاني عشر لإلتحاد العام م، الندوة العلمية الحادية عشر، دراسات في 2009نوفمبر 16- 14لألثريين العرب في الفترة من .987 – 984م، ص 2009الجزء الثاني، القاهرة، آثار الوطن العربي، (101) احمد محمد علي غباشي، تطور العسكرية المصرية من حكم محمد علي وحتي نهاية حكم م، مخطوط رسالة دكتوراه، قسم االرشاد السياحي، كلية السياحة 1879 -1800الخديوي إسماعيل .149، 148م، ص 2011والفنادق، جامعة قناة السويس، (102) رب الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني ميدالية فضية يتوسطها ترس مزدان بالهالل والنجمة ض م، وكان ذلك إشارة الي العلم 1896هـ/ 1314الخماسية األطراف مكررة ثالثة مرات في عام المصري وسلطة الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني علي مصر والنوبة والسودان. لعمائر والفنون في القرنين الثاني عشروالثالث عشر عبدالمنصف نجم،شعار العثمانين علي ا - .181الهجرين، ص (103) .888سحر القطري، سراى الحقانية بمدينة االسكندرية، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 488 لي سلطة الخديوي عباس حلمي إاألجانب وغير المسلمين منهم، وهو شعار يشير .(25، 24( )لوحة رقم 20)شكل رقم الثاني -الحليات الزخرفية النباتية: -جـ تعرف الحلية على أنها العنصر الذي يضاف إلى المبني لتحسين مظهره؛ أما تحلية وتجميل شيء آخرالزخرفة فتشير إلى الشيء الذي يستخدم في (104) ، ولقد نالت الحليات الزخرفية النباتية اهتمام الفنانين عبر العصور حتى أصبحت عنصرا زخرفيا متميزا (105) ، ومن المالحظ ندرة استخدام الحليات الزخرفية النباتية في تزيين واجهات بازار الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني، حيث اقتصرت على الواجهة الرئيسية التي تطل على شارع البازار، ومن أهم أنواع الحليات الزخرفية النباتية عنصر المراوح النخيلية وأنصافها حيث يزين العقد األوسط المرجوني الذي يتوسط كتلة المدخل بالواجهة الجنوبية الشرقية حلية نباتية من الجص عبارة عن شكل نصفي أسفل زخرفة تمثل صدفة المحارورقة نخيلية متدابران يزينهما من أعل ومن (106) ، بينما يزخرف قمتا العقدين اللذين يتقدما الممران الشمالي الشرقي والجنوبي الغربي حلية زخرفية نباتية على هيئة مروحة نخيلية، تدل على مدى ما وصل إليه فن .(25، 24( )لوحة رقم 19)شكل رقم زخرفة الحليات النباتية من مهارة واتقان -النصوص الكتابية: -د اقتصرت النصوص الكتابية الواردة ببازار الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني على النص التأسيسي الذي يزين الحلية الدائرية التي تتوسط الجبهة العلوية المثلثة الشكل اسم المنشئ الخديوي أعلى المدخل بالواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية، وتتضمن )شكل باللغتين العربية واالنجليزية م1891نشاء سنة وتاريخ اإل عباس حلمي الثاني، .(27، 26، 25، 24( )لوحة رقم 18 ، 16 ،15رقم -المواد الخام المستخدمة في بناء بازار الخديوي عباس: -3 شهدت مدينة بورسعيد خالل النصف الثاني من القرن التاسع عشر تطورا ملحوظا شييد، خصوصا بعد حفر قناة السويس وافتتاحها للمالحة في أساليب البناء وطرق الت م، وقد انعكس أثر هذا األمر على مواد البناء المستخدمة في 1869البحرية سنة (104) هنادي سمير نامق، الحليات المعمارية في القصور العثمانية في البلدة القديمة بنابلس، دراسة ، كلية الدراسات العليا، جامعة النجاح تحليلية، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم هندسة العمارة .57م، ص2010الوطنية، نابلس، فلسطين، (105) .299أمينة منشاوي، العمائر المسيحية في محافظة الشرقية ومدن القناة، ص (106) ترجع أهمية صدفة المحار إلى أنها تبقي بعد موت الحيوان كما تبقى الروح بعد مغادرتها المحار ترمز في العصور اليونانية والرومانية إلى أفروديت، رمز للجسد، وكانت القوقعة أو صدفة الحب والجمال حيث تشير األساطير إلى أنها ولدت في قوقعة بحرية، وترمز إلى الشرقية في الفن القبطي، بينما تشير في الفن اإلسالمي إلى القبلة. .398، ص أحمد رجب يوسف، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن القناة - 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 489 البازار، حيث استخدمت مختلف أنواع المواد في البناء، ومن أهمها األحجار والطوب ة، وفيما يلي أهم هذه اآلجر والقرميد والحديد واألخشاب عالوة على المونة والخرسان -المواد: -اآلجر: -أ استخدم اآلجر في معظم عمائر مدن القناة خالل عصر األسرة العلوية حيث كان يتم استيراده من الخارج في القرن التاسع عشر، وكانت فرنسا وايطاليا من أوائل البلدان التي تصدر اآلجر إلى مصر عن طريق البحر وخصوصا مدينة مرسيليا رنسيةالف (107) ، ومن المالحظ أن المعمار قد اعتمد على اآلجر المستورد من فرنسا على نطاق واسع في بازار الخديوي عباس حيث استخدم كمادة بناء أساسية في عمل الواجهات وأساسات الجدران والحوائط والدعائم بالطابقين األرضي والعلوي. -األحجار: -ب استخدمت في المباني خالل القرن التاسع عشر تعد األحجار من أكثر المواد التي والقرن العشرين، حيث اعتمدت شركة قناة السويس في أشغالها بمدينة بورسعيد على األحجار المستخرجة من محاجر الماكس وجبل جنيفة (108) ، وقد استخدمت األحجار على نطاق ضيق في تكسية عقود الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية، عالوة على استعمالها في المونة والخرسانة العادية المستخدمة في تغطية أسقف البازار. -الخشب: -جـ اتسمت مصر بفقر شديد في زراعة وانتاج األخشاب الخام (109) ، مما دعى محمد علي باشا وخلفاؤه إلى استيراد األخشاب من الخارج، ولقد أسهم موقع مدينة بورسعيد د الخشب المستخدم في أغراض البناء من أوروبا كمدينة ساحلية في تسهيل استيرا وجزر البحر المتوسط (110) ، حيث كان يتم جلب األخشاب ونقلها بسهولة الى مدينة بورسعيد، ومن ثم انعكس ذلك األمر على ثراء أشغال الخشب في بازار عباس. الخديوي بازار في ظهرت والواقع أن األخشاب تعد أهم العناصر األساسية التي عباس حلمي الثاني، حيث استخدمت في صناعة األسقف الخشبية بأنواعها المختلفة، (107) .290أحمد رجب يوسف، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن القناة، ص (108) .292أحمد رجب يوسف، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن القناة، ص (109) استوردت مصر األخشاب الالزمة لها من الخارج لسد حاجتها من نقص األخشاب فقامت من لبنان وقبرص وتركيا واستوردت أخشاب القرو من انجلترا، باستيراد أخشاب األرز والصنوبر والساج من الهند. شادية الدسوقي عبدالعزيز، األخشاب في العمائر الدينية بالقاهرة العثمانية، مكتبة زهراء الشرق، - .86 – 82م، ص 2003هـ/ 1423طبعة أولى، (110) نذ انشائها حتى بداية القرن الرابع إيمان ماهر أحمد، أشغال الخشب لعمائر مدينة بورسعيد م عشر الهجري، دراسة فنية، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية، كلية اآلداب بقنا، .119م، ص2013هـ / 19434جامعة جنوب الوادي، .35لوكونت، بورسعيد، عمارة القرن التاسع عشر والقرن العشرين، ص –ماري لوركرونيه - 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 490 والبراطيم الحاملة لألسقف الجمالونية والمائلة والمسطحة، والرفارف واألفاريز، وفي عمل الشرفات الخشبية (111) وواجهة ،بالواجهة الرئيسية التي تطل على شارع البازار ومما ال شك فيه أن استخدام الشرفات المطلة على الفناء، الجناح الشمالي الغربي الخشبية التي تزين الغرف السكنية والتي ترتكز على كوابيل خشبية سواء بالواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية أو واجهة الجناح الشمالي الغربي تعد من السمات في صناعة شاب أيضا قد استخدمت األخوالمعمارية والفنية التي تميز بازار عباس، والساللم الخشبية، وأسقف الغرف السكنية بالفندق فى الطابق العلوى، الساباطات وسقف الرواق الذى يتوسط الفناء، فضال عن استعمال األخشاب في عمل األبواب والشبابيك وقطع األثاث، وفيما يلي أنواع األخشاب المستوردة التي تم استخدامها في -اس حلمي الثاني بمدينة بورسعيد:سوق الخديوي عب -الخشب الموسكي: - يطلق عليه أيضا الخشب البندقي نسبة إلى مدينة البندقية في إيطاليا، وهو على نوعين تقليد ويسمى كرنتا، وبندق موسكي ويسمى كرستا (112) ، وقد استخدم الخشب البندقي أو الموسكي في بازار عباس لتغطية السقوف المنحدرة وفي الحليات الخشبية في عمل تقفيصة وحلوق األبواب والشبابيك هألواحوالكرانيش، كما استعملت واألسقف والقوائم المقامة عليها البلكونات، والدرابزينات الخشبية الخاصة بشرفات مالي الغربي، والساللم الخشبية الموصلة إلى الطابق العلوي.واجهة الجناح الش -الخشب الشيش: - يطلق عليه مصطلح شيشة، وهي كلمة تركية من معانيها قارورة أو زجاجة أو خشبة رقيقة، وعند النجارين تطلق على قضبان رقيقة من الخشب تصنع منها ح بمرور الهواءمصاريع الشبابيك، وتأتي خلف الزجاج لتمنع الضوء وتسم (113) ، ويباع بالربطة، واستخدم هذا النوع اجاهز اوكان يستورد الخشب الشيش ممسوح المستورد من الخشب في عمل جميع أنواع األبواب والشبابيك الشيش الخاصة بالغرف السكنية الواردة بالفندق فى الطابق العلوي من البازار. (111) ات الخشبية التي تتقدم واجهات مباني مدينة بورسعيد بأنها مزيج من التأثيرات تميزت الشرف األوروبية واإلسالمية حيث انتقلت هذه الشرفات إليها من مدن أوروبية عديدة مثل مدينة البندقية االيطالية، وقد أشرف على بنائها فنانون ونجارون من إيطاليا وفرنسا واليونان ومصر، وعلى التأثيرات األوروبية عليها إال أنها تميزت بأسلوب معماري وفني يغلب عليه المسحة الرغم من العربية اإلسالمية. بدر عبدالعزيز بدر، الطرز المعمارية لمدينة بورسعيد في عصر أسرة محمد علي باشا، كتاب - م بجامعة 2011أكتوبر 16 -15المؤتمر الرابع عشر لالتحاد العام لآلثاريين العرب في الفترة من الدول العربية ومركز مؤتمرات جامعة القاهرة، الندوة العلمية الثالثة عشر، دراسات في آثار الوطن .691، 690م، ص 2011هـ/1432العربي، القاهرة، (112) . 79محمد عبدالحفيظ، المصطلحات المعمارية في وثائق عصر محمد على وخلفاؤه، ص (113) .119عمارية في وثائق عصر محمد علي وخلفاؤه، صمحمد عبدالحفيظ، المصطلحات الم 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 491 -الخشب العزيزي: - األخشاب الواردة إلى مصر، ويطلق عليه أيضا يعتبر الخشب العزيزي من مصطلح بيتش باين، ويتميز هذا النوع بلونه األصفر الفاتح وأليافه القوية، ويتحمل هذا النوع من األخشاب درجة الرطوبة العالية، كما يحتوي على مادة صمغية كبيرة (114) على ، ولذلك يكثر استخدامه في صناعة المراكب وفي المباني التي تطل من م، ولقد استخدم هذا النوع 6البحر، ويبلغ طول الكمر المستخرج منه حوالى نظرا لوقوعه في الحي األوروبي على عباسالخديوي بكثرة في بازار األخشاب مقربة من ساحل البحر المتوسط عند المدخل الشمالي لقناة السويس، ومن ثم اعتمد البازار لتحمله درجة الرطوبة العالية عليه النجارون في أشغال الخشب الخاصة ب .ومقاومته للماء -الخشب النقي: - يقصد بالخشب النقي أنواع األخشاب الجيدة المستوردة من الخارج مثل الصنوبر نقي –الراتنجي والخشب العزيزي والخشب الموسكي، وهو على أنواع )نقى أبيض هن هذا الخشب بأنواع نقي أزرق(، وهو األفضل نظرا لصالبته، ويد –أصفر الدهانات المختلفة، ويسمى الصانع الذي يشتغل فيه باسم النجار في النقي (115) ، ويعد الخشب الموسكى والعزيزي من أهم أنواع األخشاب النقية المستخدمة في أشغال الخشب الواردة بالبازار. -القرميد: -د يتخذ القرميد (116) اشكل نصف إسطواني، ويراعي أن يكون أحد طرفيه واسع ضيق واآلخر (117) ، وتوضع القراميد في صفوف بجانب بعضها أعلي األسقف الجمالونية والمائلة لكي تحمي المباني من األمطار وتخفف من حرارة الشمس رف الساقطة عليها إلي جانب أنها تعطي ترابطا جماليا في العمارة اإلسالمية، وقد ع اإلغريق القرميد في تغطية األسقف الخشبية المائلة (118) ستعماله في بيئة ا، ويكثر القرميد مع اآلجر في طريقة تحضير العجينة والمادة األولية فقالبحر المتوسط، ويت (114) .81محمد عبدالحفيظ، المصطلحات المعمارية في وثائق عصر محمد علي وخلفاؤه، ص (115) يسمي هذا النوع من الخشب في الوثائق )خشب نقي إفرنجي(، )خشب نقي رومي(، )خشب .بلدينار نقي(، )مسقف نقيا ( .85العمائر الدينية بالقاهرة العثمانية، ص شادية الدسوقي، األخشاب في - (116) قرميد بالكسر وجمعها قراميد، وهي لفظة رومية معربة وردت لها عدة معاني في المعاجم منها: كل شئ يطلي به للزينة من الجص أو الخزف المطبوع، ويطلق علي صانع القرميد )قرميتجي(، وعلي المصنع الذي يتم صناعته فيه )قرميتجان(. . 233أمينة منشاوي، التأثيرات القوطية علي العمارة اإلسالمية، ص - (117) اسماعيل سيد نعمان، الصناعة التقليدية لآلجر والقرميد المقعر في بالد المغرب اإلسالمي، .43م، ص 2013مجلة اإلتحاد العام لآلثاريين العرب ، العدد الرابع عشر، (118) .233ي العمارة اإلسالمية، ص أمينة منشاوي، التأثيرات القوطية عل 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 492 التربة الصلصالية، وإن كانت أقل جودة من طينة اآلجر، ويختلفان في القولبة من التي تعطيها الشكل النهائي (119) . ولقد استخدمت القراميد علي نطاق واسع في تغطية جميع األسقف الجمالونية والمائلة التي تغطي الطابق العلوي بمختلف أجنحة بازار عباس حيث جاءت علي مما أسهم في إعطاء مسحة جمالية ،هيئة صفوف متراصة بجانب بعضها البعض ازار، عالوة علي دورها زخرفية علي أسقف الفندق الموجود بالطابق العلوي للب الوظيفي في الحماية من األمطار والتخفيف من حدة أشعة الشمس الساقطة عليها .(33، 32، 31، 30)لوحة رقم -الحديد: -هـ استخدمت أشغال الحديد بمصر في القرن التاسع عشر والقرن العشرين، حيث يطاليا ومن ثم تأثرت ارتبطت بالطابع الفني الذي كان سائدا في انجلترا وفرنسا وا أشغال المعادن بمثيالتها األوروبية (120) ، وقد سيطر على اشغال المعادن في تلك الفترة النماذج األوروبية التي كان يتم استيرادها من أوروبا في أواخر القرن التاسع عشر وأوائل القرن العشرين لكي تقام به البوابات والدرابزينات، وفي بداية مجموعة من األجانب ينتجون فن الحديد بأيدي مصرية، وكانوا العشرينات بدأت يستخدمون في تصميماتهم تلك التصميمات التي كانت سائدة في أوروبا منذ عصر النهضة وخاصة في ايطاليا وفرنسا (121) . ومن أهم النماذج على استخدام معدن الزهر المسبوك في بازار عباس درابزينات شارع البازار حيث يزينها أفاريز هندسية تتسم بالتنوع الشرفات التي تطل على الالنهائي في األشكال والعناصر الزخرفية التي تتألف من خطوط مائلة متقاطعة وتمثل طرازا في الزخرفة كان واسع االنتشار في فرنسا ابان عصر االمبراطورية الثانية لكي يعطي تأثيرا زخرفيا جميال (122) .(13)لوحة رقم (12، 11)شكل رقم -الجص: -و يعد الجص من مواد البناء التي ظهرت في بازار الخديوي عباس حيث كان يتم استخدامها على هيئة مسحوق في الماء لكي تطلى به الجدران من الداخل والخارج ويصب لزجا في قوالب وتغطي به الجدران والسقوف بعد جفافها، باالضافة الى الفورمات( في أغلب واجهات استخدامه في عمل الزخارف الجصية القالبية )نظام (119) .45، 44اسماعيل نعمان، الصناعة التقليدية لآلجر والقرميد المقعر، ص (120) .338أمينة منشاوي، العمائر المسيحية في محافظة الشرقية ومدن القناة، ص (121) نبيل علي يوسف، أشغال المعادن ذات النمط الثابت في أهم آثار القاهرة االسالمية، مكتبة .207 – 205م، ص2003مدبولي، القاهرة، (122) .35لوكونت، بورسعيد عمارة القرن التاسع عشر والقرن العشرين، ص –ماري لوركرونيه - Marie Laure Crosnier – Lecont, Port-Said, P 35. 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 493 العمائر بمدن القناة (123) ، ومن أهم النماذج على استخدام الجص في بازار الخديوي عباس الحليات النباتية والهندسية المصنوعة من الجص التي تزين قمم العقود المرجونية والنصف دائرية بالواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية الشرقية، واألفاريز الجصية ، 22( لوحة رقم )19)شكل رقم تي تؤطر فتحات المداخل والنوافذ بالبازارالبارزة ال 23). ثالثاً الغرض الوظيفي والدور الحضاري لبازار الخديوي عباس بمدينة بورسعيد: الغرض الوظيفي لبازار الخديوي عباس: -1 تنوعت األغراض الوظيفية لبازار الخديوي عباس ما بين عرض السلع والبضائع ة بالتجار للبيع والشراء في محالت الدور األرضي المطلة على الفناء ويبلغ الخاص عدها أربعة وعشرون محال بجميع أجنحة البازار، وحفظ وتخزين البضائع في التى تطل على الممرات الخلفية بكل من الجناحين الشمالي الشرقي المحالت على كون البازار منشأة ، عالوةمحال والجنوبي الغربي، ويبلغ عددها إثنى عشر تجارية ومركز اقتصادي يشتمل على فندق بالطابق العلوي يحتوي على أربعين غرفة سكنية مخصصة إلقامة التجار والبحارة والزائرين المترددين على البازار. ولقد أسهم البازار في تشكيل الهوية المعمارية لمدينة بورسعيد، حيث قام بدور ينة طابعا خاصا تمثل في تشكيل الطابع المعماري والشخصية أساسي في اكساب المد ، حيث تم تخطيط مبانيه وشوارعه وميادينه وفق (الشرقاإلفرنج )البنائية لحي الطراز األوروبي، وقد انعكس أثر ذلك على مواد البناء المستخدمة والعمائر ذات شرفات التي تطل على القناطر المقوسة )البواكي(، وأسلوب تشكيل الواجهات ذات ال الشوارع الرئيسية. الدور الحضاري لبازار الخديوي عباس: -2 تعتبر البازارات من أهم المنشآت التجارية المكونة للتراث الحضاري داخل حدود المدينة نظرا لما تتميز به من صفة االستمرار والنمو ولذلك حرص الحكام على ة التي قامت من أجلهاالنهوض بها لتحقيق األغراض االقتصادي (124) يمثل بازار ، و الخديوي عباس جزءا مهما من تاريخ وحضارة مدينة بورسعيد حيث يعد من أقدم األسواق التجارية التي تم انشاؤها بالمدينة لكي يكون مركزا تجاريا يساهم في تنشيط خصوصيته حركة التجارة، وعلى الرغم من التنوع الوظيفي للبازار فلقد كان له المعمارية التي ميزته عن غيره من المباني البورسعيدية األخرى، حيث يقع في قلب حي االفرنجي بالقرب من ميناء بورسعيد والمدخل الشمالي لقناة الالوسط التجاري ب السويس، مما أسهم في عملية التوسع العمراني الكبير الذي شهده هذا الحي بوجه (123) .299أحمد رجب يوسف، واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن القناة، ص (124) األسواق التجارية المشيدة بمدينة القاهرة خالل الربع األول من القرن مصطفى فوزي، .14العشرين، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 494 ام في نهايات القرن التاسع عشر وبداية القرن خاص ومدينة بورسعيد بوجه ع .العشرين وظهرت عبقرية المعمار في اختيار هذا الموقع الذي فتح المجال أمام بازار الخديوي عباس للقيام بدور بارز في ربط وتوثيق العالقات التجارية بين التجار دة إلى ميناء األجانب والوطنيين، فضال عن االستفادة من تجارة الترانزيت الواف بورسعيد نتيجة حركة المالحة في قناة السويس، مما أدى إلى إزدهار النشاط التجاري بالمدينة وزيادة التواصل الحضاري بين أبناء المدينة والجاليات األجنبية بها حيث عمل معظم أفراد هذه الجاليات في التجارة واالقتصاد، ويعد ذلك أمر طبيعي ته المدينة كوسيط تجاري بين الشرق والغربنظرا للدور الذي لعب (125) . ومما ال شك فيه أن بازار عباس قد ساعد على نمو طبقة التجار وازدهار شأنها في التجارة الداخلية والخارجية حيث إنخرط الكثير منهم في األنشطة التجارية لحرف والحرفية المختلفة بالمدينة، وقد أثمر ذلك عن وجود العديد من الطوائف وا التي ارتبطت في أعمالها ببازار عباس، ومن أهم هذه الطوائف طائفة الصيادين حيث اشتغل معظم أبناء المدينة بتجارة األسماك، كما تخصص بعض األجانب والرعايا أيضا في هذه التجارة التي اعتمدت عليها المدينة في غذائها، ولذلك خصصت إدارة لتجارة السمك، كما ظهرت أيضا طوائف أخرى البلدية معظم محالت بازار عباس ارتبطت وظائفها بالبازار تمثلت في طائفة حمالي البضائع التي كانت تقوم بدور كبير في خدمة حركة التجارة بالمدينة؛ من حيث نقل البضائع القادمة إلى البازار مع ا يقومون مراعاة أن يتم ذلك دون تأخير أو تعطيل، وطائفة المترجمين الذين كانو بأعمال الترجمة الخاصة بالتجار والسياح األجانب المترددين على البازار (126) ، ويتضح لنا مما سبق الدور المتبادل والمصالح المشتركة بين إدارة بازار الخديوي عباس والطوائف والحرف الخاصة بمدينة بورسعيد في تلك الحقبة. حيث كان يتجمع فيه األجانب من ويعتبر شارع البازار من أقدم أسواق المدينة جميع الجنسيات خاصة التجار اليونايين وااليطاليين والفرنسيين والروم والشوام (125) حسام محمد صالح محمد الصمتي، تأثير السياسات والتوجهات االقتصادية على الطابع المعماري، دراسة حالة على محور قناة السويس، مخطوط رسالة ماجستير، قسم الهندسة المعمارية – 160، 132م، ص 2008عمراني، كلية الهندسة ببورسعيد، جامعة قناة السويس، والتخطيط ال 164 ،173 - 179. (126) من الطوائف األخرى التي ارتبطت وظائفها ببازار الخديوي عباس طائفة السماسرة وهم ع الوسطاء بين البائع والمشتري لتسهيل الصفقات التجارية، وطائفة الداللون الذين يجمعون بين البي والشراء، وطائفة الفرانين وبائعوا الخبز، وطائفة الجمالة التي كانت تقوم بنقل البضائع من وإلى البازار، وطائفة البرابرة والخدامين، وطائفة البوابين ومالحظي األبواب وقد احتقر النوبيون العمل في هذه الطائفة. ، 157، 156، 120، 58ص زين العابدين شمس الدين نجم، بورسعيد تاريخها وتطورها، - 164 ،186. 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 495 لمزاولة أنشطتهم التجارية داخل المحالت التي قام بانشائها التاجر اليوناني بولي لويزيدس من دور واحد حاكي فيها األسواق المنتشرة في المدن األوروبية، وكان يبدأ سوق البازار بمحالت بيع الزهور التي يعشقها األجانب، ومحالت البقالة وغالبية بضائعها مستوردة ويمتلكها اليونانيون والشوام (127) ، وقد قام التجار بمزاولة أنشطتهم التجارية داخل هذه المحالت من جزارة وبقالة وأفران ومحالت الخبز وبيع األسماك والمشروبات والفواكه والخضروات، وغيرها من واللحوم والطيور والمأكوالت أنواع التجارة األخرى التي أسهمت في نمو المدينة وجذب السكان من أبناء العرب والوطنيين لإلقامة بها والمشاركة في الحركة التجارية واالقتصادية. ومما يسترعي االنتباه أن الدور التجاري واالقتصادي لبازار الخديوي عباس قد لى قيام المجلس البلدي بإنشاء سوق آخر على النسق الفرنسي عرف باسم سوق أدى إ ، وقد قام ببنائه المهندس المعماري االيطالي (Marche Municipal)البلدية م1929جوستاف ألبرتي سنة (128) . قد أسهم الخديوى عباسوصفوة القول أن الدور الحضاري الذي قام به بازار ي التطور العمراني عل انعكس أثرهلمدينة بورسعيد، و في تشكيل الطابع المعماري إنشاء عالوة على لحي الشرق، ونمو وازدهار النشاط التجاري واالقتصادي بالمدينة، سوق البلدية. (127) .220 -218ضياء القاضي، موسوعة تاريخ بورسعيد، الجزء الثاني، ص (128) .220 -218ضياء القاضي، موسوعة تاريخ بورسعيد، الجزء الثاني، ص 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 496 نتائج البحث: يعتمد التكوين المعماري لبازار الخديوي عباس على الفناء األوسط المكشوف -1 كنية في الطابق العلوي؛ حيث األرضي والوحدات السالمحاط بالمحالت في الطابق معظم خانات نعكاسا لتخطيط الخانات العثمانية ذات نمط الفناء الواحد، وجاءت يعد ا .هذا النمط من صحن أوسط مكشوف تحيط به الحجرات من طابقين عباس بالطرز األوروبية الخديوي تأثر الطراز المعماري والفني لبازار -2 ة المستحدثة والقوطية وعصر النهضة الفرنسي.الكالسيكي أسهم الفناء األوسط المكشوف في تلطيف درجة الحرارة وتوفير اإلضاءة -3 كما عمل على حرية الحركة واالتصال ،والتهوية داخل المحالت والغرف السكنية بين أجنحة البازار المختلفة. خشبي مسطح يرتكز على يتوسط فناء بازار عباس رواق مستطيل مغطى بسقف -4 دعامات حجرية كان مخصصا استراحة للتجار، وعرض السلع والبضائع الخاصة بهم. المعمار في تخطيط بازار الخديوي عباس التماثل والتناسق والتكرار ىراع -5 والتطابق بين جميع أجنحة البازار، حيث يتطابق القسمان األيمن األيسر من البازار مع بعضهما تماما . حرص المعمار على توفير الراحة واألمن واألمان للتجار وغيرهم من المقمين -6 بالفندق عن طريق استقالل الغرف السكنية بالطابق العلوي عن الطابق األرضي حيث جعل الوصول إليها يتم بصعوبة بالغة من خالل ساللم خشبية توجد في ،تماما الممرات الخلفية. ة والجانبية التي تفضي إلى بعضها البعض بالبازار نظرا كثرة الممرات الخلفي -7 لدورها في توفير حرية الحركة والتنقل واالتصال بين جميع أجنحة البازار. تأثرت الرفارف الخشبية التي تزين واجهات أجنحة البازار بمثيالتها الواردة في -8 جاءت ذات طراز مائل البازارت اليونانية واأللبانية خالل العصر العثماني، ومن ثم ميال خفيفا للحماية من األمطار وأشعة الشمس عالوة على أنها تضفي على الواجهات مسحة جمالية وزخرفية. طراز فريد من نوعه بين طرز مداخل المنشآت مدخل بازار الخديوي عباس ذو -9 تتكون التجارية بمصر خالل القرن التاسع عشر الميالدي، حيث جاء على هيئة بائكة من صفين من العقود المرجونية المحمولة على دعائم حجرية. يتوج مدخل بازار الخديوي عباس جبهة علوية مثلثة الشكل عبارة عن فرنتون -10 يتوسطه حلية دائرية مدون عليها نص تأسيس ويؤطره زخارف النوايا واألسنان، ية التي ترمز إلى العلم البازار، ويزين قمة المدخل زخرفة الهالل والنجمة الخماس المصري شعار الدولة المصرية. 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 497 اقتصرت فتحات النوافذ على الطابق العلوي إلمداد غرف الفندق بالتهوية -11 عالوة على كونها عنصرا أساسيا من عناصر الواجهات الداخلية ،واالضاءة والخارجية، حيث جاءت على هيئة صفوف بجانب بعضها وهي من السمات المميزة لطراز عصر النهضة الفرنسي. اعتمد المعمار على الدعائم الحجرية المربعة بدال من األعمدة في الروافع -12 الواردة بالبازار، حيث استخدمت في حمل الرواق الذي يتوسط الفناء، والعقود المرجونية والنصف دائرية التي يرتكز عليها الممر الذي يتقدم الواجهة الرئيسية الشرقية.الجنوبية تمثلت أشغال الخشب الواردة ببازار الخديوي عباس في أخشاب الموسكي -13 والعزيزي والخشب النقي والخشب الشيش، حيث ظهرت في األسقف الجمالونية والمائلة والمسطحة، كما استخدمت في الرفارف واألفاريز والشرفات والساباطات والساللم واألبواب والشبابيك. لكوابيل الخشبية في حمل الشرفات الداخلية والرفارف والبروزات، استخدمت ا -14 أما الكوابيل الحجرية فاقتصر دورها على حمل الشرفات الخارجية. ربط المعمار بين كل من الجناح الشمالي الغربي والجناحين الشمالي الشرقي -15 الحركة والجنوبي الغربي بزوج من الساباطات الخشبية التي تعد من أهم عناصر واالتصال بين أجنحة الطابق العلوي للبازار. ندرة استخدام الحليات الزخرفية النباتية في تزيين واجهات بازار الخديوي -16 عباس حلمي الثاني، حيث اقتصرت على الواجهة الرئيسية التي تطل على شارع البازار. -التوصيات: حث قطاع اآلثار اإلسالمية التابع لوزارة اآلثار بسرعة ضم وتسجيل ايوصي الب -1 بازار الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني بمدينة بورسعيد في عداد اآلثار اإلسالمية؛ حيث يمثل طراز معماري فريد من نوعه، لما يشتمل عليه من قيمة معمارية وحضارية مة.مهوتاريخية ى بازار الخديوي عباس بمدينة بورسعيد، الوقف الفوري لكافة التعديات عل -2 وسرعة ترميم المبنى بطريقة علمية سليمة وتأهيله وإعادة إحياؤه الستغالله من جديد الطابع األثري والمعماري للبازار، ومن ثم يصبح مزارا بما يتوافق مع الحفاظ على .سياحيا بارزا يقصده السياح من كل جدب وصوب 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 498 -قائمة المراجع : -ثانياً: المراجع العربية:  الصناعة التقليدية لآلجر والقرميد المقعر في بالد المغرب اإلسالمي, اسماعيل سيد نعمان , م.2013مجلة اإلتحاد العام لآلثاريين العرب , العدد الرابع عشر,  الطرز المعمارية لمدينة بورسعيد في عصر أسرة محمد علي باشا, بدر محمدبدرعبدالعزيز , م 2011أكتوبر 16 -15المؤتمر الرابع عشر لالتحاد العام لآلثاريين العرب في الفترة من كتاب بجامعة الدول العربية ومركز مؤتمرات جامعة القاهرة, الندوة العلمية الثالثة عشر, دراسات في آثار م.2011هـ/1432الوطن العربي, القاهرة,  ي الغربية والمنوفية بالنصف الثاني من القرن , واجهات القصور بمحافظتتفيدة محمد عبدالجواد , دراسة أثرية للعناصر المعمارية والزخرفية, كتاب 20وحتي نهاية النصف االول من القرن 19 المؤتمر الرابع عشر لالتحاد العام لآلثاريين العرب, جامعة الدول العربية ومركز مؤتمرات جامعة م.2011القاهرة, اكتوبر  المعجم الجامع في المصطلحات األيوبية والمملوكية والعثمانية ذات صباغ عباس, حسن خالف , م.1999األصول العربية والفارسية والتركية, دار العلوم االسالمية, بيروت, لبنان,  هـ/ 13, العناصر المعمارية بواجهات قصور اإلسكندرية منذ القرن رأفت عبدالرازق أبو العينين م.2014م, دراسة أثرية معمارية, مجلة العصور, دارالمريخ للنشر, 20هـ/ 14م وأوائل القرن 19  ،م حتى عام 1859بورسعيد تاريخها وتطورها منذ نشأتها سنة زين العابدين شمس الدين نجم م.1987, الهيئة المصرية العامة للكتاب, 1882  في ضوء نماذج , العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية في عهد األسرة العلويةسامح فكري طه البنا سيوط, كتاب المؤتمر الخامس عشر لالتحاد العام لآلثاريين أمن واجهات قصور وعمائر مدنية م بمدينة وجدة بالمملكة المغربية في ضيافة جامعة محمد 2012أكتوبر 15-13العرب في الفترة من م.2012هـ, 1433األول, الجزء األول, وجدة, السعيدية, المملكة المغربية,  العناصر المعمارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر بشارع شريف بمدينة حر محمد القطريس , االسكندرية في عهد أسرة محمد علي, كتاب المؤتمر الخامس عشر لالتحاد العام لآلثاريين العرب م بمدينة وجدة بالمملكة المغربية في ضيافة جامعة محمد 2012أكتوبر سنة 15-13في الفترة من م.2012هـ /1431الجزء الثاني, وجدة, السعيدية, المملكة المغربية, األول,  ثرية أم, دراسة 1886/ ـه1303, سراي الحقانية بمدينة االسكندرية, القطريمحمد سحر معمارية فنية , كتاب المؤتمر الرابع عشر لإلتحاد العام لآلثاريين العرب, الندوة العلمية الثالثة م. 2001هـ/ 1432طن العربي, القاهرة, عشر, دراسات اثار الو  األخشاب في العمائر الدينية بالقاهرة العثمانية, مكتبة زهراء شادية الدسوقي عبدالعزيز , م.2003هـ/ 1423الشرق, طبعة أولى,  موسوعة تاريخ بورسعيد, الجزء الثاني, مطبعة المستقبل, دار ضياء الدين حسن القاضي , م.2000الكتب المصرية,  م.2000مكتبة مدبولى, معجم مصطلحات العمارة والفنون اإلسالمية, اصم محمد رزق،ع  1886, سوق الخديوي توفيق بالعتبة الخضراء بمدينة القاهرة, عبدالمنصف سالم نجم – , المعهد الفرنسي لآلثار الشرقية, 44م, دراسة وثائقية, مجلة حوليات إسالمية, العدد 1892 م.2010 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 499  شارة الملك والرمز وشعار المملكة علي الفنون والعمائر في القرن نجمسالم عبدالمنصف , التاسع عشر وحتي نهاية االسرة العلوية, دراسة أثرية فنية, كتاب المؤتمر الثاني عشر لإلتحاد العام م, الندوة العلمية الحادية عشر, دراسات في 2009نوفمبر 16- 14لألثريين العرب في الفترة من م.2009الوطن العربي, الجزء الثاني, القاهرة, آثار  شعار العثمانين علي العمائر والفنون في القرنين الثاني عشر والثالث نجمسالم عبدالمنصف , السلطنة العثمانية, دراسه أثرية فنية, مجلة كلية االثار, م( وحتي إلغاء19 -18عشر الهجريين ) .م2005عة القاهرة, م, كلية اآلثار, جام2004العدد العاشر,  قصور األمراء والباشاوات في مدينة القاهرة في القرن التاسع عشر, نجمسالم عبدالمنصف , م.2002, مكتبة زهراء الشرق, القاهرة, 2دراسة للطرز المعمارية والفنية, جـ  المعهد العشرين, والقرن عشر التاسع القرن عمارة بورسعيد, ,لوكونت – لوركرونيه ماري .2006 القاهرة, الشرقية, لآلثار الفرنسي  ،م2004, 4طوزارة التربية والتعليم, المعجم الوسيط, مجمع اللغة العربية.  العمارة اإلسالمية في أوروبا العثمانية, المجلد األول, مجلس محمد حمزة اسماعيل الحداد , .م2002/ـه1423النشر العلمي, لجنة التأليف والتعريب والنشر, جامعة الكويت,  المجلس الوطني ,128, المدينة اإلسالمية, سلسلة المعرفة, العدد محمد عبدالستار عثمان م.1988هـ/1408للثقافة والفنون واآلداب, الكويت,  م(, 1879 - 1805, المصطلحات في وثائق عصر محمد علي وخلفاؤه )محمد علي عبدالحفيظ م. 2005, 1ط  المصطلحات المعمارية في الوثائق المملوكية, الجامعة ابراهيممحمد محمد أمين، ليلى علي , م.1990هـ/1411األمريكية, القاهرة,  أحياء القاهرة القديمة وآثارها اإلسالمية, حي باب البحر, دار الجهينيمحمود على محمد , م.2000 ,القاهرة, 1ط نهضة الشرق,  األلقاب والوظائف العثمانية, دراسة في تطور األلقاب والوظائف مصطفى بركات محسن على , منذ الفتح العثماني لمصر حتى إلغاء الخالفة العثمانية من خالل اآلثار والوثائق والمخطوطات, م.2000م, دار غريب للنشر والتوزيع, 1924 – 1517  يلية لألبعاد والمضامين, , العمود في العمارة اإلسالمية, دراسة تحلمهدي صالح فرج العتابي م.2014مجلة القادسية للعلوم الهندسية, المجلد السابع, العدد الثاني,  أشغال المعادن ذات النمط الثابت في أهم آثار القاهرة االسالمية, مكتبة نبيل علي يوسف , م.2003مدبولي, القاهرة,  نائية للطراز العربي, ترجمة , العمارة العربية بمصر في شرح المميزات البولفرد جوزيف دللي م.2000محمود أحمد, الهيئة المصرية العامة للكتاب, ثالثا: الرسائل العلمية:  واجهات العمائر الدينية والمدنية بمدن القناة في عصر األسرة أحمد رجب يوسف ابراهيم , اآلثار, رسالة ماجستير, قسم مخطوط م, دراسة آثارية, 1952 -1805هـ/ 1382 -1220العلوية, م.2016هـ/ 1438كلية اآلداب, جامعة طنطا,  تطور العسكرية المصرية من حكم محمد علي وحتي نهاية حكم حمد محمد علي غباشيأ , رسالة دكتوراه, قسم االرشاد السياحي, كلية السياحة مخطوطم, 1879 -1800الخديوي إسماعيل م.2011والفنادق, جامعة قناة السويس, 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 500  الحليات المعمارية والزخرفية بواجهات العمائر المدنية بطنطا في أبونوار ورإسالم محمد منص , رسالة ماجستير, قسم مخطوط م, 1952 – 1805هـ/ 1372–1220عصر األسرة العلوية, .م 2016م / 1437داب, جامعة طنطا, اآلثار, كلية اآل  رسالة مخطوط لمملوكى, , المنشآت التجارية في القاهرة فى العصر اآمال أحمد حسن العمري م.1974دكتوراة, قسم اآلثار االسالمية, كلية اآلثار, جامعة القاهرة,  التأثيرات القوطية على العمائر االسالمية والقبطية بمدينتي القاهرة أمينة أحمد مجاهد منشاوي , رسالة ماجستير, مخطوطواالسكندرية خالل القرن التاسع عشر والعقد األول من القرن العشرين, م.2011كلية اآلثار, جامعة القاهرة,  ،العمائر المسيحية في محافظة الشرقية ومدن القناة منذ عصر أمينة أحمد مجاهد منشاوي م, دراسة أثرية 1952 –( 812الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني حتى نهاية عصر األسرة العلوية ) هـ/ 1439ثار اإلسالمية, كلية اآلثار, جامعة القاهرة,رسالة دكتوراه, قسم اآلمخطوط فنية مقارنة, م.2017  أشغال الخشب لعمائر مدينة بورسعيد منذ انشائها حتى بداية القرن الرابع إيمان ماهر أحمد , رسالة ماجستير, قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية, كلية اآلداب بقنا, مخطوط عشر الهجري, دراسة فنية, م.2013 هـ /19434جامعة جنوب الوادي,  رسالة مخطوط , العمارة اإلسالمية في قبرص, دراسة آثارية حضارية, بدر محمدبدرعبدالعزيز م.2007هـ/1428دكتوراه, قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية, كلية اآلثار, جامعة القاهرة,  تأثير السياسات والتوجهات االقتصادية على الطابع المعماري, حسام محمد صالح الصمتي , رسالة ماجستير, قسم الهندسة المعمارية والتخطيط مخطوط ى محور قناة السويس,دراسة حالة عل م.2008العمراني, كلية الهندسة ببورسعيد, جامعة قناة السويس,  أثر التهوية الطبيعية على التشكيل المعماري مع دراسة لمفردات رانيا رجب عبدالمقصود , م.2009لية الهندسة, جامعة القاهرة, رسالة ماجسير, قسم العمارة, كمخطوط الواجهات,  رسالة ماجستير, قسم اآلثار مخطوط , األسقف الخشبية في العصر العثماني, زينب سيد رمضان م.1992اإلسالمية, كلية اآلثار, جامعة القاهرة,  رسالة مخطوط , العمارة اإلسالمية في مصر, النظرية والتطبيق, شوكت محمد لطفي القاضي م.1998العمارة, كلية الهندسة, جامعة أسيوط, دكتوراه, قسم  المنشآت التجارية بمدينة القاهرة في القرن التاسع عشر ضياء محمد جاد عبدالكريم زهران , رسالة دكتوراة, قسم اآلثار االسالمية, مخطوط م(, دراسة أثرية حضارية, 19هـ/ 13الميالدي ) م.2007كلية اآلثار, جامعة القاهرة,  الطرز المعمارية والفنية لبعض مساكن األمراء في مدينة القاهرة في نجمسالم بدالمنصف ع , رسالة دكتواره, قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية, كلية اآلثار, مخطوط القرن التاسع عشر, دراسة مقارنة, م. 2000هـ / 1421جامعة القاهرة,  عمائر الخديوي عباس حلمي الثاني الدينية الباقية بالقاهرة والوجه مجدي عبدالجواد علوان , البحري, دراسة آثارية معمارية مقارنة, مخطوط رسالة دكتوراة, قسم اآلثار, كلية اآلداب, جامعة م. 2003طنطا,  هـ 12, المنشآت العثمانية الباقية بمدينة إستانبول حتي أواخر القرن همحمد أحمد بهاء الدين ملك رسالة ماجستير, قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية, كلية اآلثار, مخطوط م, دراسة آثارية معمارية وفنية, 19/ م.2016هـ/1437جامعة القاهرة, 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 501  م, مخطوط 1952 -م1863, دور األميرات في الحياة االجتماعية المصرية, فريد محمد السيد م.2015ادق, جامعة مدينة السادات, رسالة ماجستير, قسم االرشاد السياحي, كلية السياحة والفن  أشغال الخشب بعمائر القاهرة الدينية, في العصر المملوكي الجركسي محمود سعد الجندي , رسالة دكتوراه, قسم اآلثار, كلية اآلداب, جامعة مخطوط م(,1517 – 1382هـ/ 923 – 784) م.2007هـ/1428طنطا,  الزراعي في شرق الدلتا إبان عصر أسرة , منشآت الري والصرفمختار عادل مختار القزاز مخطوط رسالة محمد علي في ضوء عمائر جديدة لم يسبق دراستها, دراسة أثرية معمارية, م. 2015هـ/ 1436قسم األثار, كلية األداب, جامعة حلوان, ماجستير,  منشأت صناعة األقطان في الوجه البحري في عصر أسرة محمد علي مصطفى إبراهيم خلف , رسالة دكتوراه, قسم اآلثار اإلسالمية, كلية اآلثار, جامعة مخطوط اشا, دراسة أثرية وثائقية,ب م. 2012القاهرة,  األسواق التجارية المشيدة بمدينة القاهرة خالل الربع األول مصطفى فوزي محمد عبدالرحيم , ثار اإلسالمية, كلية من القرن العشرين, دراسة حضارية معمارية, مخطوط رسالة ماجستير, قسم اآل .13م, ص 2016اآلثار, جامعة القاهرة,  الكوابيل في العمائر اإلسالمية بالقاهرة منذ بداية العصر المملوكي منصور محمد عبدالرازق , رسالة ماجستير, قسم اآلثار مخطوط وحتى نهاية عصر محمد علي , دراسة معمارية فنيه, م. 2008رة, اإلسالمية, كلية اآلثار, جامعة القاه  ،الحليات المعمارية في القصور العثمانية في البلدة القديمة بنابلس, دراسة هنادي سمير نامق رسالة ماجستير, قسم هندسة العمارة, كلية الدراسات العليا, جامعة النجاح مخطوطتحليلية, م.2010الوطنية, نابلس, فلسطين,  تا النيل في العصر العثماني, دراسة أثرية , المنشآت التجارية بدلوليد رشاد أمين مصطفي رسالة ماجستير, قسم اإلرشاد السياحي, كلية السياحة والفنادق, جامعة مدينة مخطوط حضارية, م.2016هـ/1437السادات, -رابعاً: المراجع األجنبية والمواقع االلتكترونية:  Marie Laure Crosnier – Lecont, Port-Said, Architectures xixe – xxe siècles, institute francais d`archeologie orientale,Bibliotheque generale 26- le Caire, 2006.  Armando kodra – Hysa, The History, form and function of the old Bazar in Tirana, PP 1-13.  Shkodra, zija, Tirana, the capital of Albania, hauptstadte in sud ostevropa, geschichte, function, nationale, synbolkraft, Vienna, 1994  Nikolaus Pevsner, An outline of European Architecture, 1ondom, Great Britain, 1953.  Fletcher Banister, A history of architecture, London, 1961.  http://www.ottomanmonuments.blogspot.com/2011/10/upper-bazaar-of- athens-by-edward.html http://www.ottomanmonuments.blogspot.com/2011/10/upper-bazaar-of-athens-by-edward.html http://www.ottomanmonuments.blogspot.com/2011/10/upper-bazaar-of-athens-by-edward.html 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 502 -االشكال :اوال (1شكل رقم ) الطابق األرضي لبازار الخديوي عباس بمدينة بورسعيدمسقط أفقي يوضح تخطيط عمل الباحث (2شكل رقم ) الطابق العلوي لبازار الخديوي عباس بمدينة بورسعيدمسقط أفقي يوضح تخطيط عمل الباحث 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 503 (3شكل رقم ) الخديوى عباس لبازار الشرقية الجنوبية الرئيسية الواجهة تفاصيل يوضح رأسى قطاع عمل الباحث (4شكل رقم ) الواجهةالقسم األيسر من تفاصيل يوضح رأسى قطاع عمل الباحث - للبازار الشرقية الجنوبية الرئيسية (5شكل رقم ) الواجهة القسم األيمن من تفاصيل يوضح رأسى قطاع عمل الباحث - للبازار الشرقية الجنوبية الرئيسية (6شكل رقم ) الجنوبية الرئيسية الواجهةالمدخل بالقسم األوسط من تفاصيل يوضح رأسى قطاع عمل الباحث - للبازار الشرقية 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 504 (7شكل رقم ) للبازار الشرقية الجنوبية الرئيسية الواجهة مناأليسر العلوي القسم توضح زخارف عمل الباحث (8شكل رقم ) للبازار الشرقية الجنوبية الرئيسية الواجهة مناأليسر األرضي القسم توضح زخارف عمل الباحث (9شكل رقم ) عليها يرتكز التى دائرية النصف العقود الرئيسية الجنوبية الواجهة ممر سقف عمل الباحث -الشرقية (10شكل رقم ) ممرسقف عليها يرتكز التى دائرية النصف لعقودا عمل الباحث -الجنوبية الشرقية الرئيسية الواجهة 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 505 (11شكل رقم ) والكوابيل الرئيسية الواجهة على تطل التى الشرفة شكل توضح زخارف عمل الباحث - عليها ترتكز التى الحجرية (12)شكل رقم تطل التى الشرفة درابزين تزين المسبوك الزهر من متكررة زخارف عمل الباحث -الجنوبية الشرقية الرئيسية الواجهة على (13شكل رقم ) الى يفضى الذى للبازار الرئيسى المدخل عمل الباحث - الفناء يتوسط الذى الرواق (14شكل رقم ) تشتمل التى بالبائكة المرجونية العقود طراز الجنوبية الرئيسية بالواجهة المدخل على عمل الباحث - الشرقية 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 506 (15شكل رقم ) ويشتمل لبازارا مدخل يتوج الذى العلوى الجزء والنجمة الهاللو والفرنتون التأسيسى النص على عمل الباحث - الخماسية (16شكل رقم ) منشئ اسم الى يشير الذى التأسيسى النص عمل الباحث -االنجليزية بالحروف البازار (17شكل رقم ) المدخل قمة يتوج الذى الشكل المثلث األمامى الفرنتون عمل الباحث - (18شكل رقم ) وتتضمن األمامى الفرنتون تتوسط دائرية حلية عمل الباحث - البازار انشاء وتاريخ تأسيس نص (19شكل رقم ) المراوح أنصاف من زوج هاينيز نباتية حلية - الشكل محارية زخرفة ويتوسطهما النخيلية عمل الباحث (20شكل رقم ) الفرنتون تتوج التى الخماسية النجمة و الهالل زخرفة عمل الباحث - لبازارا مدخل يعلو الذى 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 507 اللوحات:ثانياً (2)لوحة رقم الشرقية الجنوبية الواجهة مناأليمن القسم تصوير الباحث -الرئيسية (3)لوحة رقم الجنوبية الرئيسية الواجهة مناأليسر القسم تصوير الباحث –الشرقية (4)لوحة رقم الجنوبية الرئيسية الواجهة من الجنوبية الجهة تصوير الباحث – الشرقية (5)لوحة رقم الشرقية الجنوبية الواجهة من األيسر القسم تصوير الباحث – الرئيسية (6)لوحة رقم لبازار الشرقية الجنوبية الرئيسية الواجهة تصوير الباحث – عباسالخديوى (1لوحة رقم ) الربع خالل عباس بازار توضح أرشيفية صورة العشرين القرن من األول https://www.rassdalwatan.com https://www.rassdalwatan.com/ https://www.rassdalwatan.com/ 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 508 (7)لوحة رقم الرئيسية الجنوبية الواجهة من العلوىاأليسر لقسما تصوير الباحث – الشرقية (8)لوحة رقم الواجهة الرئيسية الجنوبية من العلوى األيمن القسم تصوير الباحث – الشرقية (10)لوحة رقم أحد حاليا ويشغلها الغربى الجنوبى الممر واجهة تصوير الباحث – الحديثة المحالت (9)لوحة رقم أحد حاليا ويشغلها الشرقى الشمالى الممر واجهة تصوير الباحث – الحديثة المحالت (11)لوحة رقم الواجهة من العقود النصف دائرية بالقسم األيمن تصوير الباحث – الشرقية الجنوبيةالرئيسية (12)لوحة رقم الواجهة من األيمن بالقسم دائرية النصف العقود الباحث تصوير – الشرقية الجنوبية الرئيسية 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 509 (13)لوحة رقم الجنوبية الشرقية التي احدى شرفات الواجهة الرئيسية تصوير الباحث -تطل على شارع البازار (14)لوحة رقم ويشتمل الرئيسية الواجهة من األوسط القسم تصوير الباحث -لبازارا مدخل على (15)لوحة رقم الرواق الى يفضى الذى من المدخل األوسطالقسم تصوير الباحث - فناءال يتوسط الذى (16)لوحة رقم داخل الى يفضى الذى الرئيسى األوسط المدخل تصوير الباحث -البازار فناء يتوسط الذى الرواق (17)لوحة رقم ويفضى المرجونى دالعق ذات المدخل من األوسط القسم تصوير الباحث –الفناء يتوسط الذى الرواق الى 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 510 (18)لوحة رقم يفضى الذى المرجونى العقد ذات يمناأل المدخل واجهة تصوير الباحث -الفناء من الشرقى الشمالى القسم الى (19)لوحة رقم الشمالى القسم الى تفضى التى المدخل ردهة تصوير الباحث - الفناء من الشرقى (20)لوحة رقم الرئيسى المدخل يتوج الذى المرجونى العقد تصوير الباحث -للبازار (21)لوحة رقم الذى المرجونى العقد ذات يسراأل المدخل واجهة ويشغله الفناء من الغربى الجنوبى القسم الى يفضى تصوير الباحث - األسماك لبيع مطعم حاليا (22)لوحة رقم ذات األوسط المدخل فتحة تتوج نباتية زخرفية حلية تصوير الباحث - المرجونى العقد (23)لوحة رقم العقود النصف دائرية تتوج نباتية زخرفية حلية تصوير الباحث – بالواجهة الجنوبية الشرقية 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 511 (24)لوحة رقم الفرنتون ذات المدخل من الجبهة العلوية النجمة وزخرفة التأسيسى والنص األمامى تصوير الباحث - والهالل الخماسية (25)لوحة رقم الفرنتون ذات المدخل من العلوية الجبهة النجمة وزخرفة التأسيسى والنص األمامى الباحث تصوير - والهالل الخماسية (26)لوحة رقم تصوير الباحث –االنجليزية غةلبال البازار منشئ الى يشير الذى لنصا (27)لوحة رقم تأسيس نص تتضمن التى الدائرية الزخرفية الحلية تصوير الباحث –البازار انشاء وتاريخ (28)لوحة رقم الرواق بين يقعو الفناء من الشرقى الشمالى القسم تصوير الباحث – والجناح الجنوبى الشرقى 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 512 (29)لوحة رقم الذى الرواق الخلفية للمدخل من داخل واجهةال تصوير -الرواقبقايا فيها ويبدويتوسط الفناء الباحث (30)لوحة رقم الفناءو البازار أجنحة وضحي من أعلىمنظر عام تصوير الباحث – المائلةو الجمالونية واألسقف (31)لوحة رقم والفناء البازار أجنحة يوضح أعلى من عام منظر الباحث تصوير – األسقفالرواق وو (32)لوحة رقم الجمالونى السقف ذات الشرقى الشمالى الجناح تصوير الباحث – بالقرميد المغطى (33)لوحة رقم الشمالى الجناح من العلوى الطابقواجهة تصوير الباحث – الغربى (34)لوحة رقم الغربية والشمالية الغربية الجنوبية نالواجهتا تصوير الباحث -الشرقى الشمالى للجناح 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 513 (35)لوحة رقم للجناح العلوى بالطابق السكنية الغرف مداخل تصوير الباحث – الغربى الشمالى (36)لوحة رقم العلوى بالطابق السكنية الغرف ة احدىافذن تصوير الباحث – الشرقى الشمالى للجناح (37)لوحة رقم تصوير الباحث – الشرقى الشمالى للجناح العلوى الطابقالمطلة على الفناء ب واجهةال نوافذ (38)لوحة رقم الغربى الشمالى ينالجناح بين الفاصل الممر تصوير الباحث -للبازار الغربى الجنوبىو (39)لوحة رقم الجناحين بين تربط التى الخشبية المعبرةالساباط أو تصوير الباحث – الغربى والشمالى الشرقى الشمالى 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 514 (40)لوحة رقم الشمالى الجناح بين الفاصل الممر من العلوى الجزء تصوير الباحث - الغربى الجنوبى والجناح الغربى (41)لوحة رقم الشمالى الجناح بين الفاصل الممر من العلوى الجزء تصوير الباحث - الغربى الجنوبى والجناح الغربى (42)لوحة رقم الشمالى ينالجناح بين الفاصل الممر من العلوى الجزء تصوير الباحث –الغربي الجنوبىو الغربى (43)لوحة رقم الجناحين بين تربط التى الخشبية المعبرة الساباط أو تصوير الباحث - الغربى والشمالى الشرقى الشمالى (44)لوحة رقم الشمالى ينالجناح بين طأو المعبرة الخشبية التى ترب الساباط تصوير الباحث – الشرقى الشمالىو الغربى 20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 515 Khedive Abbas Bazaar in Port Said city1309 AH / 1891 AD An Archaeological Architectural Study Dr. Badr Abdelaziz Mohamed Badr  Abstract: This research deals with the archaeological and architectural study of the bazaar of Khedive Abbas Helmi II, which is one of the commercial complexes that represented the most important centers of commercial activity in various stages within the European district of Port Said and this was reflected in the impact on the architectural style of the bazaar, which was built on the European style. The bazaar is consisted of a rectangular open courtyard surrounded by three wings consisting of two floors; one of them is ground which includes shops and the other is an upper floor assigned for housing; in addition to the entrance, which came in the form of an arcade containing two rows of arches, the architect took into account harmony and repetition of the architectural and artistic elements in the layout of the bazaar and the design of the facades. It is noted that the upper floor of the bazaar contains a hotel that was dedicated to the residence of merchants, tourists, sailors and other foreigners; therefore the architect was keen to provide comfort, security and tranquility to them by the independence of the upper floor from the ground floor. The bazaar has various ceilings, such as Gamaloon, sloping and flat ceilings, and covered with tiles. In addition, the Abbas bazaar was influenced by the neo- classical European and the French Renaissance as well as by the Greek and Albanian bazaars styles during the Ottoman era. This  20دراسات يف آثار الوطن العربي 516 was represented in the decoration of the bazaar façades with balconies and wooden friezes. The study includes three main sections: The first section deals with the descriptive architectural study of the bazaar from outside and inside. The second section includes the analytical study of the units and the architectural and artistic elements. The third section includes the functional purpose and the cultural role of the bazaar. Then the most important results and recommendations followed by a list of the Arabic and foreign sources and references, and a catalog which includes the illustrative figures and plates. Key words: Bazaar - Hotel - Wings - Shops - Rewaq - Arch - Ceilings - Franton - Teckna - Sabat - a five-pointed star. 
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work_n3khfbviwze4vkk5v7li3n4mx4	----	ROYAL GOVERNMENT IN GUYENNE DURING THE FIRST WAR OF RELIGION: 1561 - 1563 by DANIEL RICHARD BIRCH B.R.E., Northwest B a p t i s t T h e o l o g i c a l C o l l e g e , i960 B.A., U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, 1963 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS i n the Department of H i s t o r y We accept t h i s t h e s i s as conforming to the r e q u i r e d standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA March, 1968 In p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s in p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f the r e q u i r e m e n t s f o r an advanced degree at the U n i v e r s i t y o f B r i t i s h C o l u m b i a , I a g r e e t h a t the L i b r a r y s h a l l make i t f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and s t u d y . I f u r t h e r agree t h a t p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e c o p y i n g of t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y p u r p o s e s may be g r a n t e d by the Head o f my Department o r by h i s r e p r e s e n - t a t i v e s . It i s u n d e r s t o o d t h a t c o p y i n g o r p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l g a i n s h a l l not be a l l o w e d w i t h o u t my w r i t t e n p e r m i s s i o n . Department o f H i s t o r y The U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia Vancouver 8, Canada Date M a r c h 2 1 , 1968 - ABSTRACT - The purpose of t h i s t h e s i s was to i n v e s t i g a t e the p r i n c i p a l c h a l l e n g e s t o r o y a l a u t h o r i t y and the means by which r o y a l a u t h o r i t y was maintained i n France d u r i n g the f i r s t War of R e l i g i o n (1561-1563). The l a t t e r h a l f of the s i x t e e n t h century was a c r i t i c a l p e r i o d f o r the French monarchy. Great noble f a m i l i e s attempted t o r e - e s t a b l i s h t h e i r f e u d a l power at the expense of the crown. F r a n c i s I I and C h a r l e s IX, kings who were merely boys, succeeded s t r o n g monarchs on the throne. The kingdom was im- p o v e r i s h e d by f o r e i g n wars and overrun by veteran s o l d i e r s , i l l - absorbed i n t o c i v i l l i f e . C a l v i n i s m spread r a p i d l y and became not only a r e l i g i o u s but a p o l i t i c a l movement drawing i d e o l o g i c a l and o r g a n i z a t i o n a l support from Geneva. The powerful Hapsburg monarch, P h i l i p I I , watched a f f a i r s i n France with a s u s p i c i o u s eye and f r e q u e n t l y manipulated matters a f f e c t i n g the French c o u r t . Not only were h i s border t e r r i t o r i e s i n the Pyrenees threatened but the Spanish k i n g r i g h t l y f e a r e d t h a t r e l i g i o u s d i v i s i o n i n France would have r e p e r c u s s i o n s i n h i s r i c h low country t e r r i t o r i e s . The p r o v i n c e of Guyenne was chosen as a s e t t i n g f o r t h i s study because i t was the p r o v i n c e of the f i r s t p r i n c e of the blood, i t was c l o s e to the Spanish kingdom, i t had a h i s t o r y of concern f o r l o c a l p r e r o g a t i v e s , and i t had a l a r g e number of Huguenot b e l i e v e r s and c o n g r e g a t i o n s . i i i Not l e a s t among the reasons f o r choosing Guyenne i n which to study r o y a l government was the a v a i l a b i l i t y of abundant documentary s o u r c e s . T h i s t h e s i s i s based p r i m a r i l y upon the examination of memoirs and correspondence. Most important of the memoirs are those of B l a i s e de Monluc, l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l of Guyenne. The c r i t i c a l e d i t i o n of these together with a biography and a study of the h i s t o r i c a l accuracy and s i g n i f i c a n c e of Monluc Commentaires have been prepared by P r o f e s s o r P a u l C o u r t e a u l t . Among the documents a v a i l a b l e i s the e x t e n s i v e correspondence of C a t h e r i n e de M e d i c i s , the l e t t e r s of Antoine de Bourbon, those of Monluc, and many l e t t e r s of C h a r l e s IX and of p r o v i n c i a l o f f i c e r s Royal government i n France was not based on a f i n a n c i a l , a d m i n i s t r a t i v e or m i l i t a r y foundation adequate f o r the k i n g to f o r c e h i s w i l l upon h i s s u b j e c t s . I n t e r e s t groups a l l i e d to the k i n g had p o p u l a r i z e d an i d e o l o g y of r o y a l a u t h o r i t y which served r o y a l i n t e r e s t s . P e r s o n a l contact w i t h h i s s u b j e c t s , e s p e c i a l l y with the n o b i l i t y enhanced r o y a l a u t h o r i t y . The b a s i s of r o y a l government, however, was the g o o d w i l l and c o - o p e r a t i o n of i n d i v i d u a l s i n p o s i t i o n s of i n f l u e n c e . King C h a r l e s IX and C a t h e r i n e de M e d i c i s , the queen mother, c o n s t a n t l y sought to gain and maintain such g o o d w i l l and support. They granted o f f i c e s and honours which c a r r i e d with them the o p p o r t u n i t y of p r o f e s s i o n a l advancement and p e r s o n a l enrichment. An e x t e n s i v e i v correspondence tended t o maintain t h e i r knowledge of a f f a i r s throughout the kingdom and t h e i r i n f l u e n c e over t h e i r s u b j e c t s . N e v e r t h e l e s s they had to balance i n d i v i d u a l noble a g a i n s t noble, f a c t i o n a g a i n s t f a c t i o n , Parlement a g a i n s t governor i n constant n e g o t i a t i o n to m a i n t a i n r o y a l a u t h o r i t y . The i d e n t i f i c a t i o n of the personnel who r e p r e s e n t e d the k i n g i n Guyenne r e v e a l s ways i n which p r o v i n c i a l r e s o u r c e s c o u l d be m o b i l i z e d f o r the crown and a g a i n s t the crown. In a p e r i o d of c i v i l war the m i l i t a r y o r g a n i z a t i o n of the r o y a l army w i t h i n the p r o v i n c e was of c r i t i c a l importance p a r t i c u l a r l y when the army was l a r g e l y l o c a l . L o c a l n o t a b l e s appointed o f f i c e r s , r e c r u i t e d s o l d i e r s and commanded the f o r c e s . Just as important to the crown were the f i n a n c i a l i n s t i t u t i o n s of the p r o v i n c e . As with the m i l i t a r y i n s t i t u t i o n s , i t i s e s s e n t i a l to determine the ways i n which those i n s t i t u t i o n s f a c i l i t a t e d r o y a l government and the ways i n which they c o u l d be made to serve the p a r t i c u l a r i n t e r e s t s of i n d i v i d u a l s and groups other than the crown. The d e s i g n a t i o n " a b s o l u t e " as a p p l i e d to the s i x t e e n t h - century French monarchy must be somewhat q u a l i f i e d as a r e s u l t ' : o f an examination of the f u n c t i o n i n g of l o c a l and p r o v i n c i a l i n s t i t u t i o n s : v o l u n t a r y ( l e a g u e s ) , r e p r e s e n t a t i v e ( E s t a t e s ) and appointed (Parlement). I t i s t o the nature of that monarchy that the present study i s addressed. The p r o v i n c e of Guyenne and the f i r s t years of c i v i l war p r o v i d e the h i s t o r i c a l setting,, TABLE OF CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. THE MONARCHY AND CHALLENGES TO ROYAL GOVERNMENT . . 1 Absolute Monarchy . 1 The Great Nobles L The Guise Regency 6 C a t h e r i n e de M e d i c i s as Regent . . . 8 Prelude t o C i v i l War . . . . . 9 Huguenot O r g a n i z a t i o n 11 C a t h e r i n e ' s View of the Monarchy 17 Royal A u t h o r i t y i n Guyenne 22 I I . PERSONNEL OF ROYAL GOVERNMENT IN GUYENNE 24 P r i n c e s of the Blood 26 L i e u t e n a n t s - g e n e r a l kO Governors of C i t i e s 53 I I I . MILITARY ORGANIZATION AND ROYAL AUTHORITY . . . . 63 M i l i t a r y O r g a n i z a t i o n and Forces i n Guyenne . . . 67 L " O r d i n a i r e des Guerres 68 L * E x t r a o r d i n a i r e des Guerres 78 Recruitment and Appointments 86 Command 93 IV. FINANCE AND ROYAL AUTHORITY 99 v i CHAPTER PAGE V. LOCAL INSTITUTIONS AND ROYAL AUTHORITY 132 The F i r s t War of R e l i g i o n - Summary of Events . . 132 C a t h o l i c Leagues i n Guyenne 139 L o c a l E s t a t e s l*+7 The Parlement of Bordeaux 152 C o u n c i l s and Commissions 158 Summary and C o n c l u s i o n 161 BIBLIOGRAPHY 166 PROVINCES OF FRANCE CHAPTER I THE MONARCHY AND CHALLENGES TO ROYAL GOVERNMENT A b s o l u t e Monarchy The F r e n c h monarchy of the m i d - s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y was as p o w e r f u l as at any time i n h i s t o r y . L o u i s X I I (1498-1515)i F r a n c i s I (1515-1547) and Henry I I (154-7-1559) each c o n t r i b u t e d to the p r e s t i g e and a u t h o r i t y of the crown. W i d e l y h e l d p o l i t i c a l t h e o r y m a i n t a i n e d t h a t the k i n g r e c e i v e d h i s s o v e r e i g n t y from God and was the law i n c a r n a t e . In s p i t e of the p e r s i s t e n t t r a d i t i o n t h a t t h e y must l i v e on the revenue from t h e i r own domain, these monarchs i n c r e a s e d t h e i r a b i l i t y t o t a x s u b j e c t s at w i l l . At the same time t h e y extended r o y a l c o n t r o l over f i n a n c i a l a d m i n i s t r a t i o n , l e g i s l a t i o n and the a d m i n i s t r a t i o n of j u s t i c e . D u r i n g t h i s p e r i o d great f e u d a l r i v a l s were e l i m i n a t e d and t h e i r l a n d s r e t u r n e d t o the crown. Georges Pages e x p r e s s e d an i n t e r p r e t a t i o n r e p r e s e n t a t i v e of many h i s t o r i a n s i n the words, " F r a n c i s I and Henry I I were as p o w e r f u l as any o t h e r k i n g s of F r a n c e ; i t was at the b e g i n n i n g of the s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y t h a t the a b s o l u t e monarchy t r i u m p h e d . " ^ The term " a b s o l u t e " a p p l i e d t o the F r e n c h monarchy of the s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y must be c a r e f u l l y q u a l i f i e d . The a d m i n i s t r a t i o n Quoted by J . R u s s e l l M a j o r , R e p r e s e n t a t i v e I n s t i t u t i o n s i n R e n a i s s a n c e F r a n c e , 1421-1559 (Madison:. U n i v e r s i t y of W i s c o n s i n P r e s s , I 9 6 0 ) , p. 3. encompassed t e n or t w e l v e thousand o f f i c e r s and was the l a r g e s t i n Europe.*'" A p r o f e s s i o n a l army g a r r i s o n e d f o r t i f i e d p l a c e s and 2 e n c l o s e d c i t i e s throughout the kingdom. N e v e r t h e l e s s , the k i n g ' s a b i l i t y t o e n f o r c e h i s w i l l from one end of h i s e x t e n s i v e kingdom t o the o t h e r was l i m i t e d . By the time of Cateau-Cambresis i n 1559 decades of war i n I t a l y had extended r o y a l c r e d i t to the b r e a k i n g 3 p o i n t and the monarchy was deeply i n debt. On the one hand the f i n a n c i a l p o s i t i o n of the crown l i m i t e d the patronage t h a t c o u l d k be d i s p e n s e d . O f f i c e r s went unremunerated sometimes f o r y e a r s . On the o t h e r hand more o f f i c e s were c r e a t e d . f o r the revenue t h e y would b r i n g . The s a l e of o f f i c e s was f i r s t s y s t e m a t i z e d under F r a n c i s I and grew i n , s p i t e of p e r i o d i c - l e g i s l a t i o n t o the c o n t r a r y T h i s v e n a l i t y of o f f i c e s l i m i t e d r o y a l power s i n c e an o f f i c e - h o l d e r c o u l d o n l y be removed by r e p u r c h a s i n g h i s o f f i c e or by means of a l e n g t h y t r i a l . R o y a l c o n t r o l over o f f i c e - h o l d e r s was f u r t h e r l i m i t e d s i n c e men named t h e i r own s u c c e s s o r s or r e s i g n e d i n f a v o u r """Roland Mousnier, Les X V I e et X V I i e S i e c l e s ( V o l . Iv of H i s t o i r e Generale des C i v i l i s a t i o n s , ed. Maurice C r o u z e t , 3rd e d i t i o n ; P a r i s : P r e s s e s U n i v e r s i t a i r e de F r a n c e , 1961), p. 116. 2 I b i d . ^ H e n r i Hauser, "The European F i n a n c i a l C r i s i s of 1559," J o u r n a l of Economic and B u s i n e s s H i s t o r y , I I ( F e b r u a r y , 1930). 4 Alphonse de R u b l e , A n t o i n e de Bourbon et Jeanne d ' A l b r e t ( P a r i s : Adolphe L a b i t t e , 1882), I I I , 261. 5 Mousnier, op. c i t . , pp. 118-119* 3 of men of their choice. The. large number of r o y a l officers was thus a mixed blessing and important tasks were frequently committed to the holders of short-term commissions. A second q u a l i f i c a t i o n must be placed upon the term "absolute" when i t i s applied to the monarchy of 1559' The monarchy was personal i n nature; i t was no abstract kingship to which the French bowed. When the king'-s power was exercised by someone else on his behalf, other great persons refused to obey. Factions formed, at the court, r i v a l r y for power ensued and those exercising r o y a l power were accused of holding the sovereign as a prisoner."'" The personal nature of the monarchy was recognized by Francis I and Henry II who sought to c a p i t a l i z e on i t . Only upon the death of Henry II and the accession of Francis II and Henry III as minors did t h i s c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the monarchy become a serious drawback. Before speaking of an "absolute monarchy" i t is essential to i d e n t i f y at least a t h i r d l i m i t a t i o n . The French kingdom was far from homogeneous, i n fact, i t was made up of many states within the state. A man was Gascon or Breton before he was French and consequently the authority of l o c a l i n s t i t u t i o n s and l o c a l notables could be much greater than that of orders from a distant c a p i t a l . This c h a r a c t e r i s t i c of the kingdom could be exploited by James W. Thompson, The Wars of Religion i n France, 1559- 1576 (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1909), p. lTTT the monarch who maintained l o c a l i n s t i t u t i o n s and directed them to his purposes. S i m i l a r l y royal power was enhanced when i t was exercised by men of the most prestigious l o c a l houses. On the other hand, l o c a l o f f i c i a l s and l o c a l i n s t i t u t i o n s could become preoccupied with l o c a l p r i v i l e g e s and on occasion, acted i n l o c a l rather than royal i n t e r e s t s . The Great Nobles The old feudalism based on the granting of f i e f s was complemented by a "new feudalism" i n which the lord-vassal r e l a t i o n s h i p was replaced by a patron-client r e l a t i o n s h i p . A few great nobles were able to gain tremendous power through the size and importance of t h e i r followings. Economic conditions forced many of the lesser n o b i l i t y to seek advancement i n the service of these great lords.''' The c l i e n t offered l o y a l service in exchange for advancement 'and protection before the law. The c l i e n t s of a great l o r d occupied positions ranging from minor household posts and men of arms i n his company to captains of chateaux and 2 o f f i c e r s i n the royal service. To three noble families, Guise, Montmorency and Bourbon, p r a c t i c a l l y a l l the n o b i l i t y were a l l i e d by t i e s of vassalage, J . Russell Major, "The Crown and the Aristocracy i n Renaissance France," American H i s t o r i c a l Review, V o l . 69 ( A p r i l , 1964), pp. 630-646. 2 I b i d . family or clientage. In 1559 the Guises were most powerful and they dominated a l l the provinces of the east: Champagne, Lorraine, Bourgogne, Lyonnais and Dauphin!. From the border of Artois to the Pyrenees the Bourbon name was obeyed. In the southwest Antoine de Bourbon was king of Navarre and governor of Guyenne while north of the Loire the prince de CondS governed or had a large following i n P i c a r d i e , the Ile-de-France, Normandie, Orleanais, Vendomois, Touraine and Bretagne. The Guises were a l l i e d by marriage to the crowns of France, Scotland and Denmark. Under Henry II they enjoyed royal favour and gained great wealth. The Bourbon t i e s were t i e s of blood and Antoine de Bourbon,^ the f i r s t prince of the blood was next i n l i n e for the throne after the sons of the k i n g . Unlike the Guises, the Bourbon family was disunited and the younger brother, Condi*, possessed greater character and a stronger following but lacked the authority of the f i r s t prince of the blood. The t h i r d great family was the house of Montmorency and i t s influence f e l l between Bourbon and Guise, both geographically and i n the p o l i t i c s of the court. The constable Anne de Montmorency was the.greatest landholder i n the kingdom. Consequently his support came from the large number of vassals who held f i e f s from him. His family lacked the blood and the t i t l e s of Bourbon or Guise and they owed everything to Francis I and Henry I I . Hence Lucien, Romier, Le Royaume de Catherine de Medicis (Paris: P e r r i n , 1922), I, 223. 6 they were above a l l , l o y a l t o the crown. Guise and Bourbon a m b i t i o n s were i n c o m p a t i b l e and t o support e i t h e r house was t o a l i e n a t e the o t h e r . T h e r e f o r e , the Montmorency f a m i l y h e l d the balance of power.''' The G u i s e Regency Immediately upon the death of Henry I I the G u i s e s s e i z e d and s u r r o u n d e d the p e r s o n of the new k i n g , F r a n c i s I I . They were a b l e t o g a i n c o n t r o l p a r t l y t h r o u g h t h e i r n i e c e Mary S t u a r t , F r a n c i s ' queen. S i n c e the new k i n g was f i f t e e n and t e c h n i c a l l y of age, the G u i s e s had him announce t h a t " h i s u n c l e s were t o 2 manage h i s a f f a i r s . " The p r i n c e s of the b l o o d were sent t o F l a n d e r s and S p a i n on s t a t e a f f a i r s . B e f o r e the f i r s t p r i n c e of the b l o o d was summoned the c o n s t a b l e was b a n i s h e d from the c o u r t t o p r e v e n t a meeting of two n o b l e s who might pose a t h r e a t t o the government of the due de Guise and h i s b r o t h e r , the c a r d i n a l of L o r r a i n e . The duke took charge of m i l i t a r y a f f a i r s and the c a r d i n a l c o n t r o l l e d f i n a n c i a l and s t a t e a d m i n i s t r a t i o n . F r a n c i s I I was a minor i n f a c t , i f not i n law, and the G u i s e s e x e r c i s e d a b a d l y v e i l e d r e g e n c y . L e g a l l y , i n the m i n o r i t y of a k i n g the regency belonged t o the f i r s t p r i n c e of the b l o o d . Hence the p e r s o n i n the best p o s i t i o n t o c h a l l e n g e Guise a u t h o r i t y 1 I b i d . , p. 228. 2 Thompson, Wars of R e l i g i o n , p. 6. was Antoine de Bourbon, king of Navarre, and he lacked the fortitude to make such a challenge. Because of their weakness and to buy support the Guises d i s t r i b u t e d a number of governor- ships to keep certain notables happy.""" Many offices and d i g n i t i e s were d i s t r i b u t e d among the Guise family and following so the Guises determined to placate their c r i t i c s by requesting the king to create two new gouvernements i n the centre of the kingdom for princes of the blood. The due de Montpensier was made governor of Touraine-Anjou-Maine and the prince de l a Roche-sur-yon was granted Orleans-Berry. The appointments were l i t t l e more than a farce since for the f i r s t time lieutenants were appointed over the governors. Thus giving them governorships i n central France served to keep these princes of the blood under surveillance and 2 to l i m i t t h e i r authority. The office of governor i s an important one i n the sixteenth century. In the two preceding centuries members of the royal family had been granted apanages, large t e r r i t o r i e s administratively detached from the kingdom i n which those princes had become v i r t u a l monarchs. In the century to follow certain of the great nobles were to approximate royal power i n the office of governor. The new gouvernements created by the Guises were fashioned from the Gaston Z e l l e r , "Gouverneurs de provinces au XVI e s i e c l e , " Revue historique, CLXXXV (1939), p. 225. 2 I b i d . , p. 2^7. c f . Thompson, Wars of R e l i g i o n , pp. 62-63- 8 t e r r i t o r y of the l a s t apanagists. The Estates-General of 1561 was c a l l e d by gouvernements for the f i r s t time i n d i c a t i n g that the entire kingdom was thus divided."*" Catherine de Medicis as Regent In March, 1560 the i l l - c o n c e i v e d conspiracy of Amboise directed against the Guises was overthrown. In November Conde was condemned for alleged complicity i n the plot but the death of Francis II on December 5 brought about a shift i n power and the freeing of the p r i n c e . Charles IX was only ten years of age and no f i c t i o n could make him anything but a minor. A regency was required. The position r i g h t l y belonged to Antoine de Bourbon 2 although there was a precedent for a regency of the queen mother. Catherine de Medicis acted d e c i s i v e l y , associated Antoine with her as lieutenant-general of the kingdom and claimed the position of regent h e r s e l f . Catherine had the guardianship of the person of the k i n g . She out-maneuvred the Guises in a l l their attempts to recapture a measure of c o n t r o l . She governed as i f she were k i n g . She appointed to offices and to benefices; she granted pardon; she kept the seal; she had the l a s t word to say i n c o u n c i l ; she opened the l e t t e r s of the ambassadors and other ministers. "*"Zeller, "Gouverneurs . . . , " p . 231. 2 e.g. During the imprxsonment of Francis I following the battle of Pavia his mother acted as regent. Ernest Lavisse, Histoire de France (Paris: Hachette, 1904), V:2, 37-38. ^Thompson, Wars of R e l i g i o n , p. 75* The Estates-General met at Orleans i n December, I56O and recommended a general pardon for those accused of heresy through- out the kingdom. The Estates were asked to seek a solution to the f i n a n c i a l problems of the monarchy for the king's debts t o t a l l e d more than forty m i l l i o n francs."'" L i t t l e was accomplished although the way was prepared for large revenues from the clergy over a period of five years. The delegates were to return to their regions and new elections were to be held for a meeting of the Estates-General at Pontoise i n May. Prelude to C i v i l . War In A p r i l , I56I with secret encouragement from his Catholic majesty, P h i l i p II of Spain, a famous association of strongly Catholic nobles was formed. It became known as the Triumvirate i n reference to i t s most important members, the due de Guise, the 2 constable Montmorency and the marshal Saint-Andre. This c o a l i t i o n was a blow to Catherine and the appeal of the Triumvirate to P h i l i p II was a further threat to her authority. The association was implacable i n i t s opposition to the Huguenots who had r a p i d l y increased i n numbers and gained confidence after the death of Henry I I . Nevertheless, the Edict of July was promulgated reserving ""Ibid., p. 8 l . 2 I b i d . , p. 9 ? . 10 judgment for heresy to e c c l e s i a s t i c a l courts and l i m i t i n g sentences. The Huguenot movement continued to spread and incidents of unrest were more common than ever. The king of Navarre was susceptible to promises to restore the Spanish portion of his kingdom or to give him compensation for i t . Consequently, under the influence of the Spanish ambassador, he i n c l i n e d increasingly towards the Catholic r e l i g i o n and towards the Triumvirate.^ It would seem that the parties were extremely unequal for Montmorency and Guise had effected a r e c o n c i l i a t i o n and Antoine de Bourbon was inclined towards them, leaving leadership of the Huguenot cause to his brother Conde. A s p l i t i n the Montmorency ranks, however, evened the sides somewhat. The constable's three nephews, the C h a t i l l o n brothers, Gaspard de Coligny, Francois d'Andelot and Odet, cardinal of C h S t i l l o n , had a l l espoused the 2 Huguenot cause. Catherine hoped to effect a r e c o n c i l i a t i o n between the leaders of the Catholics and the Protestants i n September, I56I when the clergy met at the colloquy of Poissy while the other two estates met at Pontoise. Her efforts were doomed to disappointment."^ She was no more successful i n effecting peace through the tolerant Edict of January. The kingdom was hastening Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV. See the pieces j u s t i f i c a t i v e s for examples of Spanish influence over Antoine. 2 Romier, Le Royaume.•., p. 2 2 9 . ^Thompson, Wars of R e l i g i o n , pp. 1 0 9 - 1 1 4 . 11 down the path to c i v i l war and the spark was ignited by an incident which took place at Vassy i n Champagne. The soldiers of the due de Guise discovered a Huguenot congregation meeting i n a barn, wounded and k i l l e d a number of them. "Charles, cardinal of Lorraine, at the colloquy of Poissy had made union between the two faiths impossible. His brother, the duke of Guise, by the massacre at Vassy had made war i n e v i t a b l e . " """ Huguenot Organization The e f f i c i e n t m i l i t a r y organization of the Huguenots and their rapid mustering of forces for the f i r s t War of Religion i s impressive and for i t s achievement required both an e c c l e s i a s t i c a l organization readily adaptable to the support of a m i l i t a r y effort and a plausible rationale with the support, or at least apparent support, of the regent. Individual C a l v i n i s t churches were governed by minister and elders who together formed the d i s c i p l i n a r y committee known as the consistory. Ministers and elders from a number of neighbouring churches formed a colloquy, a committee concerned with matters referred to i t by i n d i v i d u a l churches and with the general supervision of the churches i n the area. Over the consistories and colloquies of a larger region such as a province, authority was exercised by a synod and, i n France, a national synod capped the organizational pyramid. Common t i e s with Geneva tended further to Bernerd C. Weber, "The Diplomatic Relations between France and Spain during the Reign of Charles IX (1560-157^)" (unpublished Doctoral d i s s e r t a t i o n , University of C a l i f o r n i a , Berkeley, 1935), P. 57. 12 strengthen and unify the Huguenot churches. The synodal organ- i z a t i o n was i d e a l l y adapted to the development of a concomitant m i l i t a r y organization. Protestant p o l i t i c a l ideas were expressed and gained wide attention when Anne du Bourg, imprisoned by Henry I I , wrote an attack on the legitimacy of any monarch who t r i e d to force his subjects to l i v e contrary to the w i l l of God."'" Beza's p u b l i c a t i o n , On the Authority of the Magistrate i n the Punishment of Heretics, written i n 155*+ contained i n embryonic form j u s t i f i c a t i o n of the right of a prince to r e s i s t superior authority on r e l i g i o u s issues. At the time of the Conspiracy of Amboise, an abortive attempt to overthrow the Guise regency, the highest leaders of the Reformed church including Calvin himself expressed the conviction that the revolt would have been l e g a l had i t been led by a prince of the blood and preferably by the f i r s t prince of the blood. Predictably, i n 1562 when Conde i n fact led the r e v o l t , Calvin supported his cause. The Huguenots of France had a r t i c u l a t e d c l e a r l y the doctrine of l e g a l resistance led by a prince of the blood. The organizational structure for the r a i s i n g of an army was inherent i n the church organization and a doctrine of resistance had been a r t i c u l a t e d , only the actual mobilization remained and Robert M. Kingdon, Geneva and the Coming of the Wars of Religion i n France, 1555-1565 ( V o l . XXII of Travaux d'Humanisme et Renaissance; Geneva: Droz, 1956), p. 64. 13 this was i n i t i a t e d long before the f i r s t War df R e l i g i o n . The churches of Guyenne i n November, 1560, were ordered by the Synod of C l a i r a c to begin organizing m i l i t a r y cadres. One year l a t e r the Synod of Upper Guyenne at Sainte-Foy chose m i l i t a r y commanders for the provinces of Bordeaux and Toulouse. The hierarchy of command included colonels over each colloquy and captains responsible for the forces of each church. Thus forces were organ- ized and ready to respond quickly to Condi's summons i n 1562.""' The Huguenot m i l i t a r y leaders found war more acceptable i f they could represent their actions as expressing l o y a l support of the sovereign. In this Catherine de Medicis unwittingly gave them assistance for she requested the Huguenot delegates returning from the Colloquy of Poissy to make a survey of their churches to determine the m i l i t a r y force they could muster. Wholehearted support was expressed by 2,150.churches and the survey was followed by guarded instructions to muster m i l i t a r y forces of both foot and 2 horse. On March 16, against the orders of the queen mother, the due de Guise entered Paris with two or three thousand men. He was loudly acclaimed as the champion of Catholicism and the provost of merchants offered him two m i l l i o n i n gold to serve i n defence of the Catholic r e l i g i o n . On the same day, Condi returned to Paris from the court with seven or eight hundred men. The s i t u a t i o n I b i d . , p. 109. I b i d . , p. 106. 14 was explosive and Conde withdrew to Orleans where he mustered an army. Catherine was not permitted to take the young king to Orleans but was detained by the Guise faction as a v i r t u a l 1 prisoner. Once more Catherine helped the Huguenot cause for with the young king she was detained i f not imprisoned by the Triumvirate and she exchanged a secret correspondence with s 2 • Conde, seeking his support. Conde was to publish extracts from her l e t t e r s i n days to come to justify his m i l i t a r y actions as an attempt to free the king and the regent. Catherine had no doubt wanted Conde merely to return unarmed to the court for had he done so the Triumvirate would have had no excuse to remain i n Paris under arms and continued detention of the king would only have been possible by arms, a crime of lese-majeste. Conde however, did not obey but from Orleans he offered asylum to Catherine and Charles IX.^ The Huguenot army at Orleans was augmented by the a r r i v a l of contingents from the provinces of the west and south. Again Catherine contributed for when the comte de l a Rochefoucauld, ^Lucien.Romier, Catholiques et Huguenots a l a Cour de Charles IX (Paris: P e r r i n , 1924), p. 328. Hector de l a F e r r i e r e , e d . , Lettres de Catherine de Medicis (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1880), I, 282n. 283. "^Romier, Catholiques et Huguenots, pp. 330-333• 15 Conde's brother-in-law, sent his lieutenant, Jean de Mergey, to seek orders from her, the regent assured him he would cause no d i f f i c u l t y by joining the prince. She was to spend much of her energy i n ensuing months negotiating with Conde and i t may be that, expecting to gain his support, she wished him to have s u f f i c i e n t authority to enable her to withstand the threats of the Triumvirate. The Catholic party had hoped that l a Rochefoucauld, an old lieutenant of the due de Guise, would not take arms against his former captain and that the vicomte de Rohan, cousin of Jeanne d'Albret, would not r e s i s t the authority of the king of Navarre. But very soon after the taking of Orleans news reached the court that these two lords were making their way from Poitou and Bretagne respectively, leading troops which the l i n g ' s lieutenants were powerless to stop. The comte de l a Rochefoucauld arrived on A p r i l 20, 1562 with about four hundred men, mounted and armed. Wherever, fighting took place Gascon soldiers were to be found and 4,000 Gascon foot soldiers soon arrived i n Orleans under the leadership of the comte de Gramont to be followed by 1,200 soldiers from Languedoc Catherine de Medicis maneuvred desperately i n the attempt to avert war and to bolster her own control of a f f a i r s . While Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV, 152ff. messengers and envoys were s h u t t l i n g between Orleans and the court, Catherine sent a message to Jeanne d'Albret, en route from Meaux to Vendome. The message was twofold, a l e t t e r merely requested the queen of Navarre to ask Conde to lay down his arms and return to court but the bearer brought a message o r a l l y because Catherine had been obliged to write her l e t t e r under the eyes of Francois d'Escars, the confidante of the king of Navarre. O r a l l y , the messenger was reported to have stated that Catherine desired the opening of h o s t i l i t i e s and the triumph of the Huguenots and that she requested Jeanne to go to Amboise and take the young brother and s i s t e r of the queen as hostages to Conde i n Orleans."'" The web of negotiations was indeed a tangled one. Even as Conde's army increased at Orleans and the royal army was amassed to meet i t and as both sides sought reinforcements from neighbouring countries, f i g h t i n g was going on throughout the kingdom. The king's lieutenant i n Dauphine, l a Motte-Gondrin, was 2 k i l l e d by rebel forces under the baron des Adrets. The commanders i n - c h i e f both of the Huguenots and of the C a t h o l i c s , were to be plagued throughout the war by the problems inherent i n attempting to mount a major army while at the same time protecting the home t e r r i t o r i e s of their adherents and s a t i s f y i n g the ambitions of Alphonse de Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e (Paris: L i b r a i r e s de l a Bibliotheque Nationale, 1897), 1̂ 189. ^Romier, op. c i t . , p. 3*+5• !7 l o c a l c h i e f s . The war took on the appearance of many l o c a l wars and often of g u e r i l l a warfare. In fact the strategy of the Triumvirate early i n the contest was to divide their forces and separate Conde from his reinforcements to the west. Conde found i t d i f f i c u l t to r e c r u i t adequate foot soldiers for the Huguenot army while on the Catholic side royal demands for reinforcements were to go long unheeded.""" Meanwhile Huguenot and Catholic forces would wage war i n Guyenne as armies semi-independent of central authority, recruited l o c a l l y , under l o c a l command and maintained in their home region by l o c a l exigencies. It i s under these circumstances that the nature of royal government i n Guyenne must be studied. Catherine's View of the Monarchy Catherine de Medicis recognized the f i n a n c i a l d i f f i c u l t i e s of the crown. She saw c l e a r l y the personal nature of French king- ship and the absolute necessity of personal encounter between the king and the n o b i l i t y . Perhaps more c l e a r l y than anyone else she knew that the monarch must recognize l o c a l differences, l o c a l p r i v i l e g e s . In short, she r e a l i z e d that the power of the throne was grounded upon the goodwill of men throughout the kingdom. Her concern was to gain the goodwill of s t r a t e g i c a l l y valuable men Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, p. 291. 18 and through them to control others. A few months after the Peace of Ambolse Catherine had the majority of the young king Charles IX declared and soon thereafter she dictated for him a long l e t t e r on the methods by which he could best restore his kingdom to complete obedience."'' The queen mother's l e t t e r revealed those things which she f e l t needed to be restored. Beginning with the routine and pomp of court l i f e , Catherine dealt with the conduct of court business, the secretaries, the C o u n c i l , dispatches, audiences, and concluded with clear directions on the question of royal patronage. The queen mother reviewed i n her mind the events of the preceding three years encompassing the b r i e f reign of Francis II during which she had been excluded from government by the Guises and the f i r s t years of the reign of Charles IX in which r e l i g i o u s differences coupled with r i v a l r y among the great nobles had erupted into b i t t e r c i v i l war. As she looked back in time these events seemed l i k e a bad dream to be blamed on the minority of Francis II, and Catherine was anxious to forget that bad dream and recapture the conditions which had prevailed i n the reigns of Francis I and Henry I I . Charles must r e - e s t a b l i s h the Church and through the administration of justice he must cleanse the kingdom and recover royal authority and obedience to the royal w i l l . The routine of court l i f e Catherine considered as essential to restoring confidence Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, II, 9 0 - 9 5 . 19 i n the monarch on the part of the n o b i l i t y and the people, and the king must be p a r t i c u l a r l y careful that the nobles be associated with him by their presence i n his chamber at his r i s i n g hour, by accompanying him to mass, and by walking, r i d i n g or jousting with him. He must oversee the d i s c i p l i n e at the court and ensure that men discharged their duties whether those duties be l i g h t i n g torches, locking gates, guarding keys, or sending dispatches. His own existence must be as s t r i c t l y d i s c i p l i n e d as that of his s e r v i t o r s . R i s i n g at a standard hour, probably about s i x , Charles must admit to his chamber a l l the princes, l o r d s , captains, knights of the order, gentlemen of the chamber, maitres d'hotel and serving men. This custom should build the confidence of the n o b i l i t y . R i s i n g accomplished, the king must go to business, having a l l leave save those p a r t i c u l a r l y concerned and the four s e c r e t a r i e s . An hour or two reading dispatches must follow after which he should go to mass accompanied by the n o b i l i t y . If time permitted, a walk for his health might precede the king's dinner scheduled for eleven o'clock. Twice a week Charles should give audience to his subjects after dinner and only after that could he r e t i r e b r i e f l y to the quarters of the queen mother. Three o'clock could be the time to walk or ride with the n o b i l i t y two or three times weekly. The king should sup with his family and two evenings per week the b a l l room was to be next on the schedule. Catherine 20 s u g g e s t e d a b o v e a l l o t h e r r e a s o n s t h a t c o u r t l i f e s h o u l d be r e g u l a t e d and d i s c i p l i n e d s o t h a t t h e p e o p l e w o u l d know what t o e x p e c t o f t h e i r k i n g a n d so t h a t t h e n o b i l i t y w o u l d be c o n t e n t e d . C a t h e r i n e i m p r e s s e d on t h e y o u n g k i n g t h a t he must c o n v e y t o h i s s u b j e c t s h i s c o n c e r n f o r them. T h i s w o u l d be p o s s i b l e by d e a l i n g i m m e d i a t e l y w i t h d i s p a t c h e s f r o m r e m o t e a r e a s o f t h e p r o v i n c e , t o c o r r e c t t h e i m p r e s s i o n r e c e n t l y g i v e n by d e l a y s o f a month o r e v e n s i x weeks i n a n s w e r i n g them. C h a r l e s must s e t a s i d e a c o n v e n i e n t h o u r d a i l y and r e a d d i s p a t c h e s f r o m a p a r t i c u l a r r e g i o n o f t h e k i n g d o m . I f t h e y s h o u l d c o n t a i n m a t t e r s f o r t h e C o u n c i l he must have t h e c h a n c e l l o r r a i s e t h e s e m a t t e r s b e f o r e a d m i t t i n g t h e ma£tres d e s r e q u e t e s f o r t h e C o n s e i l des p a r t i e s . " ' " The k i n g was t o l d t o command t h e s e c r e t a r i e s t o make a p p r o p r i a t e r e p l i e s t o d i s p a t c h e s , r e p l i e s he must e x a m i n e , s i g n a n d s e n d t h e n e x t m o r n i n g b e f o r e l o o k i n g a t a n y t h i n g new. To c o n v e y t o h i s ' p e o p l e h i s c o n c e r n f o r them, t h e k i n g must f i n d t i m e t o s e e a l l t h o s e who h a d come f r o m t h e p r o v i n c e s t o s e e k a u d i e n c e . He s h o u l d d i s c u s s w i t h them t h e i r o f f i c e s a n d t h e r e g i o n f r o m w h i c h t h e y "'"Every m o r n i n g t h e C o n s e i l E ~ t r o i t o r C o n s e i l P r i v e met f i r s t t o c o n s i d e r t h e most i m p o r t a n t m i l i t a r y , p o l i t i c a l , f i n a n c i a l and a d m i n i s t r a t i v e a f f a i r s . The C o n s e i l E t r o i t c o n s i s t e d o f a few g r e a t n o b l e s w i t h t h e c h a n c e l l o r p r e s e n t t o t a k e o r d e r s . R o g e r D o u c e t , L e s I n s t i t u t i o n s de l a F r a n c e au X V I e S i d c l e ( P a r i s : P i c a r d , 1948), I I , 1 4 2 . T h e C o n s e i l d ' E t a t w i t h a w i d e r m e m b e r s h i p met t o c o n s i d e r m a t t e r s o f f i n a n c e a n d a d m i n i s t r a t i o n o f j u s t i c e . T w i c e w e e k l y i t c o n s i d e r e d p a r t i c u l a r t r i a l s and d i f f e r e n c e s b e t w e e n p e o p l e ( p r e s u m - a b l y a p p e a l s ) . On t h o s e o c c a s i o n s i t was c a l l e d t h e C o n s e i l d e s P a r t i e s . D o u c e t , I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 1^5. 21 had come. In this way his reputation would spread throughout the kingdom. The balance of Catherine's l e t t e r dealt with patronage, a subject which assumed great importance i n her mind. Louis XII was the i d e a l she held up before the young Charles IX for Louis XII had devised a system to eliminate importuning at the court for appointment to o f f i c e . He maintained a r o l l containing the names of a l l the honours that were his to bestow. One or two of the p r i n c i p a l officers i n each province were responsible to report any vacancies, confiscations or fines to the king by express l e t t e r to be placed personally i n the king's hands and not to go to the secretaries or anyone else. Louis XII then proceeded to make an appointment' on the basis of the information he possessed, attempting to reward the f a i t h f u l officers who remained i n their places and to deny office to any who importuned at the court. The v i t a l concern was that i n f l u e n t i a l l o c a l notables be appointed to strategic offices where they could exercise their influence on behalf of the crown. Francis I was supposed to have made a practice of maintaining a nucleus of men i n every aspect of royal government i n each province. Thus the command of f o r t i f i e d places and high e c c l e s i a s t i c a l and j u d i c i a l offices would be exercised by men who owed their position and i t s rewards d i r e c t l y to their k i n g . To Charles IX, Catherine suggested that the recipients of his patronage should not be members of the n o b i l i t y 22 alone but that i n each c i t y he must have the support of the p r i n c i p a l bourgeois i n order to extend his influence into municipal government. The advice emphasized by Catherine as she instructed her son i n the art of government was that he should be as d i r e c t l y accessible to his subjects as possible and convey to them that he cared for them. Catherine was soon to i n i t i a t e an extensive i t i n e r a r y throughout the kingdom on behalf of her son precisely to implement this p r i n c i p l e and to allow as many of his subjects as possible to gain access to him, to see him personally, and thus identify with him. Royal Authority In Guyenne In the province of Guyenne as i n the rest of the kingdom royal authority depended on the personal influence of the king over the n o b i l i t y . The extent of that influence depended on the extent to which p a r t i c u l a r i n f l u e n t i a l nobles perceived their interests as a l l i e d with those of the k i n g . Not only must royal service be to the mutual benefit of the sovereign and his subject but the sovereign must honour the l o c a l p r i v i l e g e s of the region. The province of Guyenne was far removed from the court and had a history of l o c a l resistance to central authority. D e f i n i t i v e l y re-united to the kingdom for l i t t l e more than a century, Guyenne was t r a d i t i o n a l l y exempt from the gabelle or s a l t tax. When Henry II sought to increase his revenue by imposing the gabelle 23 on Guyenne, that province became the scene of a bloody revolt.'*' The n o b i l i t y of Guyenne had a history of independent action and armed r e v o l t . They also had an enviable record i n royal m i l i t a r y s e r v i c e . Guyenne provides a good s e t t i n g for the study of r o y a l government because i t was the gouvernement of Antoine de Bourbon, king of Navarre and f i r s t prince of the blood. Like his father- in-law, although he was as governor a representative of the crown, his personal concerns as king of Navarre played a much greater role i n motivating his actions. Also l i k e his father-in-law, Antoine was often non-resident and i n his absence the r o y a l government was exercised by lieutenants of the king who owed allegiance both to the king and to their governor, dual l o y a l t i e s not always i n harmony with each other. S. - C . Gigon, La Revolte de l a Gabelle en Guyenne, 1548-1549 (Paris: Honor! Champion, 1906), pp. 11-12. CHAPTER II PERSONNEL OF ROYAL GOVERNMENT IN GUYENNE An examination of r o y a l government i n Guyenne during the d i f f i c u l t days of c i v i l war reveals that Catherine's advice to Charles IX was in fact the p o l i t i c a l creed according to which she herself acted. She recognized the necessity of gaining the good- w i l l and l o y a l support of i n f l u e n t i a l members of the l o c a l n o b i l i of both great and lesser f a m i l i e s . And she r e a l i z e d that merely gaining t h e i r confidence was not s u f f i c i e n t for royal o f f i c e r s were subject to influence by l o c a l groups and i n s t i t u t i o n s , by great patrons, and even by foreign powers. By judicious use of the patronage at her disposal the regent sought to maintain the support of those best able to mobilize the l o c a l resources necess ary to uphold royal authority i n the province. Representatives of royal authority i n Guyenne received their offices from the king and yet demonstrated remarkable independence of ..'the king i n the exercise of those o f f i c e s . The king did not have a completely free choice in making appointments i t was l i m i t e d i n r e l a t i o n to the highest office by the need to s a t i s f y the f i r s t prince of the blood and by the increasingly hereditary nature of the o f f i c e . In other appointments the king and the queen mother were limited by the desires of Antoine de Bourbon, the f i r s t prince of the blood, and by the necessity to 25 choose from among men of renown within the province to ensure the obedience of the l o c a l n o b i l i t y . Men appointed from among the l o c a l n o b i l i t y were able to gain support i n t h e i r home province for independent a c t i o n . The Parlement, the estates, the c i t i e s and the n o b i l i t y were a l l at times mobilized on behalf of the king's representatives. The c i t i e s of Guyenne found f i n a n c i a l resources with which to reward the lieutenant-general on more than one occasion. Men who accepted appointment did not simply owe a l l e g - iance to the monarch and to l o c a l pressure groups but also to great noble patrons including, of course, Antoine de Bourbon, the governor. The appointee might be influenced, because of personal ambitions, by a foreign monarch, P h i l i p II of Spain. The degree to which the crown was able to control i t s representatives i n spite of c o n f l i c t i n g influences was the important issue i n r o y a l government i n Guyenne. The men who bore the t i t l e s of governor, lieutenant, and lieutenant-general i n Guyenne were of three d i s t i n c t ranks. At the peak of the hierarchy, were great nobles, the Bourbon princes of the blood. These princes f i l l e d two kinds of post, that of governor and that of commissioner sent into the province on a special mission. At the second l e v e l were prominent members of the l o c a l n o b i l i t y with i l l u s t r i o u s m i l i t a r y careers behind them. The office of lieutenant-general was their charge and their t i t l e 26 was q u a l i f i e d with the words "in the absence o f . . . . " Since the governor was consistently absent and the highest authority was delegated to his lieutenant-general, the l a t t e r office carried with i t a great deal of prestige. The t h i r d rank was that of governors of c i t i e s or of f o r t i f i e d places and i t , too, was f i l l e d by members of the most prominent noble families or by lesser nobles of proven m i l i t a r y a b i l i t y . This l a s t office was one which increased i n number greatly during the Wars of R e l i g i o n . Princes of the Blood The most i l l u s t r i o u s and powerful nobles of the kingdom held office as governors of provinces. It was a prestigious o f f i c e . During their regency in I56O the Guises divided the major offices among their own family and following. They recognized the necessity of s a t i s f y i n g the princes of the blood for only because the king was l e g a l l y of age were the Guises able to deprive these princes of a regency that should c o n s t i t u t i o n a l l y be t h e i r s . To s a t i s f y the Bourbon princes without sending them out to the f r o n t i e r provinces where they could better mobilize resources against the regency, two new gouvernements were created in the centre of the kingdom. These t e r r i t o r i e s had not previously come under the administration of governors because they had been administered as the personal 27 domains of r o y a l p r i n c e s , i . e . as apanages.^ The o f f i c e of governor was not i n t e n d e d t o c a r r y w i t h i t the degree of independ- ence e x e r c i s e d by a p a n a g i s t p r i n c e s . N e v e r t h e l e s s , i t was an o f f i c e g r a n t e d o n l y t o men of the h i g h e s t r a n k , men whose b i r t h and power demanded adequate r e c o g n i t i o n . Antoine. de Bourbon, k i n g of Navarre and f i r s t p r i n c e of the b l o o d , was governor and l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l of Guyenne. H i s tenure i l l u s t r a t e s common c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of appointment, n o n - r e s i d e n c e , and s u s c e p t i b i l i t y t o e x t e r n a l i n f l u e n c e . A l t h o u g h the post of l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l had once been a commission t o be t e r m i n a t e d a c c o r d i n g t o the k i n g ' s w i l l , i t had become an o f f i c e t o be e x e r - c i s e d much l o n g e r or even f o r l i f e . F u r t h e r m o r e , i t f r e q u e n t l y passed from a g r e a t noble t o h i s h e i r , a s i t u a t i o n i l l u s t r a t e d by e v e n t s i n Guyenne. F o r most of the second q u a r t e r of the c e n t u r y H e n r i d ' A l b r e t , k i n g of N a v a r r e , had been governor of Guyenne w i t h a u t h o r i t y e x t e n d i n g over P o i t o u , La R o c h e l l e and l ' A u n i s . A n t o i n e de Bourbon f o l l o w e d i n h i s f a t h e r - i n - l a w ' s f o o t s t e p s not o n l y as k i n g of Navarre but as governor of Guyenne and of P o i t o u , by then 2 a s e p a r a t e gouvernement. H i s a u t h o r i t y a l s o extended over La R o c h e l l e and l ' A u n i s , a r e g i o n a d m i n i s t e r e d by a s e p a r a t e l i e u t - Z e l l e r , "Gouverneurs...," p. 247. 2 I b i d . , p. 240. 28 enant and- sometimes r e f e r r e d to as a g o u v e r n e m e n t T h e f i r s t prince of the blood exercised the a u t h o r i t y of governor over the western coast of France from the Pyrennees to the border of B r i t t a n y . To t h i s were added the o f f i c e s of admiral of Guyenne and, from March, 1561 u n t i l his death i n November, 1562, l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l of the kingdom. Governors frequently received t h e i r o f f i c e s through i n h e r i t a n c e and the same was true i n the case of those o f f i c e r s designated "lieutenants-general en 1'absence des gouverneurs." Sebastien de Luxemburg, vicomte de Martigues, nephew of Jean de Brosse, due d'Etampes and governor of Bretagne, acted as l i e u t e n a n t - general i n the absence of h i s uncle and, when E"tampes died c h i l d - 2 l e s s , Martigues succeeded him as governor. The governorship of Provence was exercised f o r many years by Claude de Savoie, comte de Tende, a close r e l a t i v e of the Montmorency family which was very powerful i n the south of France. Upon h i s death i n I566 the o f f i c e passed to h i s son Honore de Savoie, comte de Tende and de Sommerive, who as l i e u t e n a n t had exercised more a u t h o r i t y than h i s father for s e v e r a l years and had come i n t o c o n f l i c t with him.^ In I56O under Antoine de Bourbon, Guy de D a i l l o n , comte du Lude was made L e t t r e s de Catherine de Medicis, I, 4 l 8 . 2 A L u b l i n s k a j a , ed., Documents Pour S e r v i r a l ' h i s t o i r e des Guerres C i v i l e s en France (I56I-I563) (Moscow, I962), No. 11. Hereafter c i t e d as Documents Pour S e r v i r a..... ^ L e t t r e s de Catherine de Medicis, I, 304-305. 29 lieutenant-general of Poitou f i l l i n g an office which had been vacant for three years. In a s p i r i n g to that office he was follow- ing his father, Jean de D a i l l o n , who had been lieutenant-general under Henri d'Albret i n both Guyenne and Poitou u n t i l his death in 1557. Certainly the most s t r i k i n g example of the hereditary nature of the office of governor was the succession of Henri de Bourbon, prince of Navarre, to the offices held by his father. Antoine de Bourbon died i n November, 1562 of a wound received i n battle and i n December "pouvoir de gouverneur et lieutenant general en Guyenne" was granted by the king to the prince of N a v a r r e . 1 The prince was a precocious lad but s t i l l short of ten years of age. and hardly ready to exercise the powers granted him. In addition to the office of governor he was given that of admiral of Guyenne and his father's company of one hundred hommes d'armes and i t was even rumoured that he would succeed his father as lieutenant- 2 general of the kingdom. A few days after having relayed that rumour to his government, the Venetian ambassador reported that the office would be l e f t vacant, that neither the prince de Navarre nor the prince de Conde would receive i t . ' ' The granting of important offices to Antoine de Bourbon resulted from the need to s a t i s f y Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e (Paris: L i b r a i r e s de l a Bibliotheque Nationale, 1897), I, 467. 2 Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV, 439. 5 I b i d . 30 the f i r s t prince of the blood who should by law have been regent. The m u l t i p l i c a t i o n of offices i n the hands of his son, however, resulted as much from the desire of the regent to f i l l those offices with someone too young to exercise them as from the need to grant favours to the princes of the blood. By b i r t h the young Prince Henry was f i t t e d to receive high office and by granting him such offices when he was s t i l l too young to exercise them, Catherine f o r e s t a l l e d the efforts of those who might have pressured her for appointment. At the same time she l e f t the way open to make her own influence f e l t more d i r e c t l y i n the province. Antoine de Bourbon was obsessed with the v i s i o n of himself as master of an independent kingdom and his personal ambition made him w i l l i n g to s a c r i f i c e a l l else to the achievement of his goal. An essential part of his dream was the restoration of Spanish Navarre taken by Ferdinand the Catholic i n 1512. His tendency to dance l i k e a puppet on a s t r i n g when the least promise of t e r r i t o r i a l compensation was dangled i n front of him made the king of Navarre a very undependable royal s e r v i t o r . Catherine knew well his weakness and sought to exploit i t but i t got beyond her control to the extent that P h i l i p II.could manipulate at w i l l the f i r s t prince of the blood. By making vague promises hinting that Antoine would be given Sardinia or Tunisia P h i l i p gained from him the reactions he desired. The king of Navarre was the subject of extensive correspondence between Chantonnay, the 31 Spanish ambassador, and P h i l i p II."'" Through Antoine de Bourbon the Spanish King was able to achieve changes i n the education of Charles IX and of Prince Henri de Navarre when Chantonnay feared those youths were not receiving i n s t r u c t i o n s u f f i c i e n t l y Catholic i n flavour. P h i l i p II took advantage of his influence over the Bourbon prince to have councillors changed at the French court and even to have Antoine's own wife banished from the court where i n her Protestant zeal she might unduly influence the queen 2 mother. At times Catherine's p o l i c y was seriously endangered by Antoine*s enslavement to his dream and to the king of Spain. In June, 1562 with sporadic f i g h t i n g throughout the kingdom, Catherine was determined to negotiate with Conde a peaceful settlement and Antoine was her representative. The two brothers agreed to decree a convention leading to a general disarmament but upon receipt of a long delayed dispatch from the king of Spain promising compensation, the king of Navarre s a c r i f i c e d the peaceful convention.^ Nevertheless, Catherine found i t necessary to keep the f i r s t prince of the blood s a t i s f i e d and, i f possible, associated with her for his support would have been invaluable to her enemies. In f a c t , responding to the encouragement of his wife and of his brother and seeing i n i t the opportunity to "'"Numerous examples are included i n the pieces j u s t i f i c a t i v e s of Alphonse de Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV. 2 I b i d . , 384-388, correspondence of Chantonnay. • ' i b i d . , 256. 32 f u r t h e r h i s own ends, A n t o i n e de Bourbon had j o i n e d the Huguenots f o r a s h o r t time i n I56O. The a b i l i t y of P h i l i p I I and of the P r o t e s t a n t s t o i n f l u e n c e A n t o i n e show t h a t at l e a s t one governor was s u s c e p t i b l e t o p r e s s u r e s which l e d him t o a c t i n ways d i r e c t l y opposed t o r o y a l a u t h o r i t y . H e n r i d ' A l b r e t r e s i d e d not i n h i s gouvernement but i n the c i t y of Pau i n h i s domain and h i s s o n - i n - l a w and grandson i n t u r n d i d l i t t l e t o improve the r e s i d e n c e r e c o r d of the governor of Guyenne. A u t h o r i t y was e x e r c i s e d i n t h e i r absence by " l i e u t e n a n t s - g e n e r a l en l'absence des gouverneur s .'* P e r i o d i c a l l y d u r i n g t i m e s of c i v i l s t r i f e the queen d e c i d e d t o send a. commissioner as her p e r s o n a l r e p r e s e n t a t i v e to b o l s t e r her a u t h o r i t y and t o p a c i f y the r e g i o n . L i k e the h i s t o r i c p o s i t i o n of l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l , such a commission was p r i m a r i l y , though not. e x c l u s i v e l y , m i l i t a r y and i t might c a r r y a u t h o r i t y over s e v e r a l p r o v i n c e s r a t h e r than one a l t h o u g h the commissioner might be governor i n 2 one. As a commission, t h i s post was temporary and was r e v o k e d at the monarch's w i l l or t e r m i n a t e d upon the c o m p l e t i o n of the m i s s i o n . C a t h e r i n e planned such commissions f o r Guyenne t h r e e t i m e s d u r i n g the y e a r s I56I t o I563. In each case the commission was to be g r a n t e d t o a Bourbon p r i n c e of the b l o o d , t w i c e t o the p r i n c e de Conde and once t o the due de M o n t p e n s i e r . Only the due de G i g o n , La. R e v o l t e de l a G a b e l l e , p. 30. Z e l l e r , "Gouverneurs...," p. 227. 33 Montpensier f u l f i l l e d his commission. In August, 1562 Burie and Monluc, the king's lieutenants i n Guyenne, received a t a c t f u l l e t t e r from Catherine de Medicis encouraging them and complimenting them on the work they were accomplishing i n cleansing the province of r e b e l s . She added that she had decided to send Montpensier with his company to reinforce them and also "to have more authority with the q u a l i t y . " To the n o b i l i t y , extremely conscious of a man's blood, t h i s Bourbon prince represented much greater authority than the lieutenants. Several of the prominent nobles i n Guyenne were either openly i d e n t i f i e d with the Huguenots or leaning in that d i r e c t i o n and i t was important to the royal cause to reverse the trend. Monluc recorded that Montpensier was sent because he and Burie were hardly i n good accord and added the suggestion that command should never be given to two; one lesser captain would even be better than two good ones together. Nevertheless, he concurred in the solution; he would always counsel the king to deal with a d i v i s i o n i n the army by sending a prince of the blood to take 2 o v e r a l l command. Montpensier's requests of the king's council reveal his conception of the nature and importance of his commission. To Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, I, 376. 2 Paul Courteault, e d . , Comrnentaires de Blaise de Monluc, Marechal de France (Paris: Picard, I91D1 I I , 524, 525- Hereafter cited as Monluc, Comrnentaires. 3^ h i s r e q u e s t s f o r m i l i t a r y p e r s o n n e l , m u n i t i o n s and f i n a n c e s f o r m i l i t a r y o p e r a t i o n s the c o u n c i l r e p l i e d t h a t he would have t o l i m i t h i m s e l f c h i e f l y t o the r e s o u r c e s a v a i l a b l e i n the f i e l d t o which he was g o i n g . He i n f o r m e d - t h e c o u n c i l he would need 1 , 0 0 0 l i v r e s e v e r y month f o r the maintenance of h i s t a b l e and expenses a c c o r d i n g t o the custom of l i e u t e n a n t s of the k i n g , a statement to which the c o u n c i l r e p l i e d o n l y , " c e l l a e s t t r e s r a i s o n n a b l e . " The c o u n c i l l o r s d e c i d e d t h a t the Parlement of Bordeaux s h o u l d e l e c t two from i t s number t o f i l l the need e x p r e s s e d i n M o n t p e n s i e r ' s r e q u e s t f o r a m a i t r e de r e q u e t e s t o r e n d e r j u s t i c e and t o hear c o m p l a i n t s . A p e r s o n a l guard of t h i r t y a r q u e b u s i e r s , a monthly a l l o w a n c e f o r payment of c o u r i e r s and c l e a r i n s t r u c t i o n s r e g a r d i n g h i s r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s f o r the s u s p e n s i o n of d i s l o y a l o f f i c e r s and the appointment of i n t e r i m r e p l a c e m e n t s were a l l among r e q u e s t s grante'd t o the due de Montpensier by the c o u n c i l . The f i r s t q u e s t i o n asked by M o n t p e n s i e r was which k n i g h t s of the o r d e r , e x p e r i e n c e d c a p t a i n s and o t h e r persons of note he would have f o r h i s c o u n c i l . The r o y a l a d v i s o r s , however, d i d not seem unduly concerned about the c o m p o s i t i o n of M o n t p e n s i e r ' s c o u n c i l and suggested t h a t he would be a s s i s t e d by such men of t h i s q u a l i t y as were i n the p r o v i n c e s and t h a t he would be accompanied from the c o u r t by t h r e e n o b l e s , the s e i g n e u r s de l a Vauguyon, de Candale and de Chavigny.""' Jean Peyrusse d ' E s c a r s , s e i g n e u r de l a Documents Pour S e r v i r a..., No. 48. 35 Vauguyon, belonged t o a f a m i l y h i g h l y favoured by A n t o i n e de Bourbon. H e n r i de F o i x , comte de Oandale, s c i o n of the f a m i l y of the n o t e d Odet de F o i x , p l a y e d a prominent p a r t i n the C a t h o l i c cause throughout the f i r s t War of R e l i g i o n and at Monluc's i n s t i g a t i o n formed the league of C a t h o l i c n o b i l i t y i n the B o r d e l a i s . F r a n c o i s l e Roy, s e i g n e u r de Chavigny, was governor of the c i t y of Blaye."*" The l a t t e r two were from prominent noble f a m i l i e s of Guyenne. The due de Montpensier h e l d the o f f i c e of governor of T o u r a i n e , Anjou and Maine a l o n g w i t h h i s commission as l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l of Guyenne w i t h a u t h o r i t y over P o i t o u , La R o c h e l l e , and l ' A u n i s . The m u l t i p l e a l l e g i a n c e and m u l t i p l e r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s which c o m p l i c a t e d a d m i n i s t r a t i o n of the kingdom are i l l u s t r a t e d by the c o n c e r n m a i n t a i n e d by t h i s p r i n c e f o r c e r t a i n l a n d s of h i s 2 own i n h e r i t a n c e i n the duchy of M o n t p e n s i e r . W r i t i n g t o the l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l of the kingdom he s t a t e d t h a t he had g i v e n the government of h i s duchy of Montpensier t o the s e i g n e u r d ' E f f i a t , one of h i s v a s s a l s and s u b j e c t s . T h i s v a s s a l l a b o u r e d so i n d u s t r i o u s - l y t h a t the due's chateaux of M o n t p e n s i e r and A i g u e s p e r s e and h i s town of the same p l a c e , on which the s a f e t y of the n e i g h b o u r i n g a r e a depended, were i n an e x c e l l e n t s t a t e of d e f e n c e . D ' E f f i a t , Alphonse de R u b l e , ed., Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s de B l a i s e de Monluc ( P a r i s : Renouard, I87O), IV, 210, n o t e . H e r e a f t e r c i t e d as Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s . Documents Pour S e r v i r a..., No. 52. 36 h a v i n g e v e r y d e s i r e t o r e s p e c t the a u t h o r i t y of monsieur de S a i n t - G e r a n , l i e u t e n a n t f o r the k i n g i n the r e g i o n i n the absence of che marechal de Sa-int-Andre, took from him c o n f i r m a t i o n of the a u t h o r i t y Montpensier had g r a n t e d . N e v e r t h e l e s s , the s e i g n e u r de H a u l t f u e i l l e , e s t a b l i s h e d by S a i n t - G e r a n as governor of Clermont, R i o n , M o n t f e r r a n t and o t h e r n e i g h b o u r i n g towns, wished t o i n c l u d e i n h i s commission M o n t p e n s i e r ' s town of A i g u e s p e r s e . M o n t p e n s i e r wished the k i n g of Navarre t o i n t e r v e n e , command H a u l t f u e i l l e t o keep o u t , and t h u s a l l e v i a t e the d i s o r d e r and c o n f u s i o n a r i s i n g i n the duchy.""" A f t e r u n d e r t a k i n g the r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s of h i s commission M o n t p e n s i e r r e p o r t e d t o the k i n g from P o i t i e r s . He had c o n f i r m e d the l o y a l t y of c e r t a i n c i t i e s , a d j u s t e d the s i z e of t h e i r g a r r i s o n s , c o n s u l t e d w i t h Sansac and La Vauguy.on about the a d v i s a b i l i t y of a t t a c k i n g the Huguenot f o r c e s under the s e i g n e u r de l a R o c h e f o u c a u l d and d e c i d e d a g a i n s t i t , and had g i v e n the o r d e r t o have c e r t a i n sums of money conducted t o her m a j e s t y . A f t e r h a v i n g observed c o n d i t i o n s i n the r e g i o n , he recommended t h a t , s i n c e Bourges had been d e l i v e r e d , the m i l i t a r y f o r c e s under B u r i e r e q u e s t e d t o be 2 sent from Guyenne s h o u l d be kept i n the p r o v i n c e . Montpensier j o i n e d Monluc and B u r i e o n l y a f t e r t h e i r major I b i d . , No. 5 .̂ 2 I b i d . 37 m i l i t a r y v i c t o r y over Duras at the battle of Vergt, or rather, they joined him.''" He warmly congratulated Monluc and agreed to support his request for an office and company for his brother, 2 Joachim de Monluc, seigneur de Lioux. Monluc was overjoyed at the a r r i v a l of a prince of the blood and gave him detailed recommendations for deployment of personnel i n the province including the sending of Burie into France with the troops which had been requested.^ Montpensier, however, f e e l i n g that the work of p a c i f i c a t i o n i n Guyenne was proceding favourably, travelled north into Saintonge. In November Montpensier sent a represent- ative to report to the court on his mission i n Guyenne. The i s l e s had been reduced to obedience, fortresses razed, arms seized, and divine service re-established. He reported with concern that La Rochelle had dispatched to the court the elu and some others armed with 4,000 or 5,000 ecus with which to reward the o f f i c e r s who could assist them i n their attempt to be r i d of the garrison. S.uch men would surely l i e about t h e i r loyalty and the prince feared that the c i t y would f a l l into the hands of the rebels who had already plotted to k i l l , Jarnac, their governor. Much of his report was devoted to m i l i t a r y and f i n a n c i a l needs but the extent of his authority was indicated by the fact that he pointed out the Monluc, Comrnentaires, II, 563• I b i d . , II, 564 and Documents Pour S e r v i r a . . . , No. 64. Monluc, Comrnentaires et Letcres, IV, 171. 38 necessity of commissioning men to j u d i c i a l and other essential offices vacant by the absence of the holders, defeated i n the r e b e l l i o n or deceased."'" He did not seem to think i t necessary to make personal recommendations to those o f f i c e s . Months before sending Montpensier Catherine had planned to send Conde into Guyenne with a special commission. In December, 1561 when r e l i g i o u s passions were inflamed and Burie, the lieutenant-general, appeared incapable of pacifying them, the queen hoped that the presence of a prince of the blood would win obedience from the Catholics and that the presence of their chief 2 would calm the Huguenots. In February, 1562 preparations were almost completed. At the same time Catherine sent Crussol, f i r s t peer of France, into Languedoc and Provence with analogous powers. It may be that she did not want to place undue emphasis on her intended reliance on the Huguenot leader and, therefore, avoided making his commission unique. Conde was instructed to v i s i t the c i t i e s , restore e c c l e s i a s t i c s to benefices and churches usurped by the Protestants, restore to office those forced out by the seditious, punish p i l l a g e r s and warn Protestants about unauthor- ized p u b l i s h i n g . To those of the reformed f a i t h who complained "'"Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 7^. 2 Paul Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, Blaise de Monluc (Paris: P i c a r d , 1909), pp. 1560157. 39 about h a v i n g no p l a c e t o worship God, Conde was t o make g e n t l y u n d e r s t o o d t h a t , i f they c o u l d f i n d a p l a c e o u t s i d e the c i t i e s except i n a church or temple, he would.give o r d e r s t o the r o y a l o f f i c e r s t o t u r n t h e i r eyes the o t h e r way. Had Conde f u l f i l l e d the commission, the Huguenots might w e l l have been t r e a t e d more f a v o u r a b l y than even the r e g e n t had p l a n n e d . However, the m i s s i o n was not t o be f o r P h i l i p I I had o t h e r p l a n s and A n t o i n e de Bourbon responded t o the p r e s s u r e p l a c e d on him t o thwart C a t h e r i n e ' s p l a n s . The S p a n i s h monarch would have p r e f e r r e d the m i s s i o n t o have been conducted p e r s o n a l l y by the man whom he r e f e r r e d t o as the s e i g n e u r de VendSme, f o r he would never address him as k i n g of N a v a r r e . The S p a n i a r d s a l s o made events then t a k i n g p l a c e i n Guyenne work t o t h e i r advantage. A member of the n o b i l i t y , the baron de Furnel, had been murdered by h i s Huguenot t e n a n t s and B l a i s e de Monluc was g a t h e r i n g a m i l i t a r y f o r c e t o avenge the murder and q u e l l the l o c a l u p r i s i n g s . S p a n i s h o f f i c e r s c l a i m e d t h a t t r o o p s were b e i n g mustered f o r an a t t a c k on S p a n i s h Navarre t o be l e d by Conde. E x p l o i t i n g these c l a i m s , P h i l i p I I i n f o r m e d A n t o i n e t h a t he would c o n t i n u e n e g o t i a t i o n s over the l o s s of Navarre o n l y at the p r i c e of Conde's r e t u r n i n t o P i c a r d y . A n t o i n e had been the f i r s t t o approve C o n d i ' s m i s s i o n i n t o Guyenne and he was the f i r s t t o oppose i t . As a r e s u l t the m i s s i o n d i d not take place.""" R u b l e , A n t o i n e de Bourbon, p. 5 0 f f . Lieutenants-general In the absence of the governor or of s p e c i a l commissioners r o y a l a u t h o r i t y was exercised by s e v e r a l l i e u t e n a n t s - g e n e r a l . There were three or four i n the region under the j u r i s d i c t i o n of Antoine de Bourbon, one f o r P o i t o u , one for La Rochelle and l'Aunis and two f o r Guyenne. At l e a s t Guyenne had two i n p r a c t i c e from December, 1561, and o f f i c i a l l y , from March, 1563« The career of B l a i s e de Monluc demonstrates the ambition and opportunism of a l i e u t e n a n t , and the extent to which he could mobilize l o c a l support both for the crown and on h i s own behalf. Monluc was from a noble family i n the Agenais, a family of better breeding than fortune. As a lad he served as a page i n the household of the due de Guise and i n the f i r s t years of the r e i g n of F r a n c i s I he began what was to be a b r i l l i a n t m i l i t a r y career i n I t a l y . S h o r t l y before the Peace of Cateau-Cambresis he replaced d'Andelot f o r a time as colonel-general of the i n f a n t r y , one of the highest posts i n the m i l i t a r y command. A f t e r the peace he r e t i r e d to the Chateau d ' E s t i l l a c near Agen where i n the s p r i n g of 1560, perhaps to please the Guises, he responded to the plea of some municipal o f f i c i a l s and a s s i s t e d i n the expulsion of the Protestant m i n i s t e r s of Agen. In response a band of f i v e or s i x hundred Huguenots besieged his home. The old captain e a s i l y r e p e l l e d them but as a r e s u l t of h i s complaint Charles IX ordered the k i n g of Navarre to assure the peace of the Gascon hero."*" A n t i - G u i s e sentiment had swept the country as a r e s u l t of t h e i r harsh r e p r i s a l s f o l l o w i n g the C o n s p i r a c y of Amboise, a P r o t e s t a n t p l o t to remove F r a n c i s II from the i n f l u e n c e of the G u i s e s . Seeking to take advantage of the u n p o p u l a r i t y of the government, Antoine de Bourbon had i d e n t i f i e d h i m s e l f with the Huguenot cause. For t h i s reason he was l i t t l e i n c l i n e d to favour 2 Monluc 1 s a c t i o n s i n support of the C a t h o l i c o f f i c i a l s . Due F r a n c o i s de Guise to whom Monluc appealed a d v i s e d him to r e g a i n the favour of the k i n g of Navarre, advice that very n e a r l y l e d 3 to h i s d o w n f a l l . The k i n g of Navarre and h i s brother Conde were then at Nerac g a t h e r i n g about them a band of men anxious to avenge them- s e l v e s a g a i n s t the Guises f o r the bloody aftermath of Amboise and to Nerac went Monluc anxious to i n g r a t i a t e h i m s e l f with Antoine d Bourbon. There he attended the p r e a c h i n g of the reformed f a i t h , convinced Beza and Jeanne d ' A l b r e t of h i s l o y a l t y to t h e i r cause and assured Conde" t h a t the e f f o r t s of the p r i n c e s of the blood would tend only to the u t i l i t y of the k i n g and of the kingdom. T h i s sounded l i k e the statement of a good Huguenot, s k i l f u l at p u t t i n g the face of l o y a l t y on a c t i o n s d i r e c t e d a g a i n s t the Ruble, Jeanne d ' A l b r e t , I, 1 5 0 . Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , 3 9 7 - 3 9 8 . ' i b i d . k2 . g o v e r n m e n t o f t h e k i n g d o m . " ' " T h a t summer t h e G u i s e s a r r e s t e d a n a g e n t o f A n t o i n e de B o u r b o n who i n h i s c o n f e s s i o n s , c o m p r o m i s e d s e v e r a l n o b l e s , , i n c l u d i n g M o n l u c , who t h e n h a s t e n e d t o t h e c o u r t t o c l e a r h i m s e l f . He t r i e d f e v e r i s h l y t o p r o v e h i s l o y a l t y t o t h e e x t e n t o f e s p o u s i n g t h e u n p o p u l a r G u i s e p o s i t i o n i n t h e c o u n c i l o f t h e K n i g h t s o f t h e O r d e r when t h e m a j o r i t y came t o t h e d e f e n c e o f V i d a m e de C h a r t r e s , a p r o m i n e n t n o b l e a r r e s t e d f o r H u g u e n o t o p i n i o n s . M o n l u c was p r e s e n t a t t h e r e c e p t i o n o f e i g h t e e n new members i n t o t h e o r d e r , members a p p o i n t e d by t h e G u i s e s t o r e d r e s s t h e H u g u e n o t m a j o r i t y . M o n l u c had u n f o r t u n a t e - l y c u r r i e d t h e f a v o u r o f N a v a r r e j u s t b e f o r e t h e f o r t u n e s o f t h e B o u r b o n p r i n c e s were e c l i p s e d , a l b e i t t e m p o r a r i l y , w i t h t h e i m p r i s o n m e n t a n d t r i a l o f Conde a n d t h e d i s g r a c e o f A n t o i n e . M o n l u c knew t h a t he h a d a l i e n a t e d h i m s e l f f r o m A n t o i n e de B o u r b o n , and p e r h a p s he knew t h a t A n t o i n e ' s f a v o u r i t e , F r a n c o i s d ' E s c a r s 2 was i n t r i g u i n g f o r o f f i c e . C o n v i n c e d , t h e r e f o r e , t h a t he h a d no c h a n c e o f r e c e i v i n g a n i m p o r t a n t o f f i c e i n G u y e n n e , he s o u g h t a n a p p o i n t m e n t i n D a u p h i n e , t h e G u i s e g o u v e r n e m e n t , where h i s b r o t h e r , J e a n de M o n l u c was b i s h o p o f V a l e n c e b u t h i s a d v a n c e s i n t h a t d i r e c t i o n were r e j e c t e d b y t h e G u i s e s . M o n l u c was s t i l l a t t h e c o u r t when t h e d e a t h o f F r a n c i s I I C o u r t e a u l t , Un C a d e t de G a s c o g n e , p . 1^9. 2 R o c h a m b e a u , L e t t r e s d ' A n t o i n e de B o u r b o n e t de J e h a n n e d ' A l b r e t ( P a r i s : R e n o u a r d , 1877), N o s . C X L V , C X L V I , C X L V I I . 43 brought about a sudden change i n the fortunes of the Bourbons, the Constable and the Guises. He assisted at the Estates-General of Orleans ^ and must have r e a l i z e d that the kingdom was not far from open war. Without having obtained office he returned to Guyenne i n January where he attached himself to Burie, the lieutenant-general, and proceeded to make himself indispensable, with a view to supplanting the old o f f i c e r . Charles de Coucys, seigneur de Burie, of a noble family in Saintonge, was, l i k e Monluc, a veteran of the I t a l i a n wars but he was almost seventy years of age, old and t i r e d . His wife was a s i s t e r of one of Conde's lieutenants and he had a number of r e l a t i v e s i n the 2 Huguenot camp, a fact Monluc was l a t e r to use against him. The old lieutenant-general had neither the strength nor the heart for the long struggle which lay ahead. In March Monluc was at Agen to play a prominent role i n the assembly of the Estates of the slne'chaussee. Moderating the influence of the Huguenots and reassuring the Catholics he played the r o l e of politique to perfection. This time he was following the policy of none less than the queen mother, a policy of t o l e r a t i o n . In June when troubles broke out at Layrolle and Serignac, Monluc sought and was given a mission by the king and Monluc, i Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , 393« Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , i v , 158. 44 queen to deal with them."'' The ingenuous Burie recommended him 2 as being worthy of that charge or of a greater one. No one could have been more zealous i n applying the p o l i c y of t o l e r a t i o n than was Monluc. He was c e r t a i n that p l e a s i n g the queen mother was the only route to an o f f i c e which would b r i n g f u r t h e r honour and r i c h e s . Catherine's p o l i c y of t o l e r a t i o n underlay her attempt to b r i n g about a rapprochement between the C a t h o l i c and the Huguenot c l e r g y at the Colloquy of Poissy. One of those who worked hardest there to accomplish the queen mother's goals was Jean de Monluc, Bishop of Valence and brother of B l a i s e . The miscarriage of the colloquy was a setback for the p o l i c y of t o l e r a t i o n and B l a i s e de Monluc returned to the court to see which way the wind was blowing."^ When he a r r i v e d at Saint-Germain e a r l y i n December, Monluc, had at l a s t learned to commit himself only with caution, and t h i s time he received with prudent reserve Condi's e f f o r t s to r e c r u i t him. I t was not that becoming a Huguenot was repugnant i n i t s e l f for Monluc 1 s guide was the a t t i t u d e of the a u t h o r i t y on whom h i s advancement depended. Some time l a t e r i n w r i t i n g to the queen he spoke with horror of the a c t i v i t i e s of the Huguenots and he assured her that he could never change h i s r e l i g i o n unless h i s """Lettres de Catherine de M e d i c i s , I , 2 1 1 . 2 Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 153. ^Monluc, Commentaires, I I , 399. 45 king changed f i r s t . ^ While he was at the court word came of numerous uprisings i n Guyenne and i t was then that Catherine determined to send Conde to the province. The king of Navarre wished to send l e t t e r s i n s t r u c t i n g Burie to take measures to restore order i n the meantime but the queen mother suggested 2 sending Monluc and Charles IX signed the patent. Monluc was empowered to use the companies from the garrisons and to raise a few hundred arquebusiers but his commission was intended only as a preliminary to the mission of Conde. However, when Conde was not sent, and Montpensier appeared only b r i e f l y many months l a t e r , Monluc's role assumed much greater importance. In recount- ing his commission Monluc made no reference to the impending mission of Conde and presented his own as p a r a l l e l to that of Crussol thus exaggerating his own importance.^ With the sending of Monluc the Spanish ambassador, knowing his m i l i t a r y reptuation and his energetic nature, wrote that Guyenne had found i t s saviour Shortly after his return to Guyenne, Monluc's attitude and actions toward the Protestants underwent an abrupt change. From t o l e r a t i o n he turned to stern repression and bloody r e p r i s a l for acts of r e b e l l i o n . Several factors contributed to this change of Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 237• Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , 400. ' i b i d . , I I , 401. Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret, I, 152. 46 a t t i t u d e . De Franc, lieutenant i n the town of Condom revealed that the Huguenots had a plan for Monluc ! s assassination."1" Worse s t i l l , they were p l o t t i n g to seize the king, his brothers, 2 the queen mother and the Guises. But, probably the most important factor to influence Monluc was the degree to which the Huguenot movement was threatening the n o b i l i t y . One of the prominent nobles, the baron de Fumel, had been k i l l e d by the peasants of his own estate, a.crime Monluc was charged to investigate. The Huguenots were boasting not only that they would pay no more dimes to the Church but that they would not pay either the t a i l l e to the king or their seigneurial rents and dues to their l o r d s . ^ Like the other nobles Monluc was h o r r i f i e d by these threats to the very foundations of sixteenth century s o c i a l order. Encouraged by the willingness of the n o b i l i t y to make him their champion, Monluc counselled harsh treatment of the Huguenots. Writing to the queen and to the king of Navarre, Monluc reported that the reform had the support of no more than one-tenth of the population and that he had the solut ion; force the lords of the region to their homes, for some among them supplied Huguenot m i l i t a r y leadership, put to death the p r i n c i p a l ministers and banish the remainder. To accomplish this i t would be necessary to move quickly. "'"Monluc, Comme nt a i r es, I I , 412. 2 Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 161. 3 I b i d . , II, 421. 4 Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 114-118. 47 I n M a r c h , 1562 w h e n M o n l u c o f f e r e d t h i s a d v i c e , s u c h c o u n c i l s h a d s o m e c h a n c e o f b e i n g h e a r d f o r t h e C a t h o l i c T r i u m v i r a t e o f t h e d u e d e G u i s e , t h e c o n s t a b l e d e M o n t m o r e n c y a n d t h e m a r e c h a l S a i n t - A n d r e , w a s g a i n i n g i n f l u e n c e a t t h e c o u r t . A c t i n g d e c i s i v e l y , M o n l u c a c h i e v e d t h e p a c i f i c a t i o n o f T o u l o u s e . . " ' " F i n a l l y h e h a d a c c o m p l i s h e d t h e e x p l o i t w h i c h w a s s u r e t o b r i n g h i m h o n o u r a n d r e w a r d . W h a t a b l o w i t w a s t o f i n d t h a t d ' E s c a r s h a d b e e n a c c r e d i t e d a s l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l o f t h e p r o v i n c e w h i l e h e h i m s e l f w a s s t i l l o p e r a t i n g w i t h o u t o f f i c e ' . I n a v i o l e n t l e t t e r t o t h e q u e e n , M o n l u c a s k e d t o b e a l l o w e d t o l e a v e t h e p r o v i n c e a n d l e t d ' E s c a r s b e r e s p o n s i b l e h i m s e l f f o r t h e 2 d i s a s t e r w h i c h w o u l d f o l l o w . I n t h e l i g h t o f M o n l u c ' s b r i l l i a n t s e r v i c e t h e q u e e n c o u l d n o t a l l o w t h a t s i t u a t i o n t o c o m e a b o u t a n d d ' E s c a r s h a d t o w a i t a l m o s t a y e a r b e f o r e r e c e i v i n g a n a l t e r n a t e a p p o i n t m e n t . S h e c o n g r a t u l a t e d M o n l u c o n h i s s u c c e s s , a c c o r d e d h i m 3,000 l i v r e s f o r h i s p e r s o n a l e x p e n s e s a n d a c o n f i s c a t i o n he h a d r e q u e s t e d , a n d g a v e h i m c a r t e b l a n c h e t o 3 c o n d u c t o p e r a t i o n s . M o n l u c h a d s e v e r a l o p p o r t u n i t i e s t o i n c r e a s e h i s p o p u l a r s u p p o r t i n G u y e n n e b y c o n t e s t i n g o r d e r s f r o m t h e c e n t r a l g o v e r n m e n t , M o n l u c , C o m r n e n t a i r e s , I I , 444- 4 5 9 ' 2 M o n l u c , C o m r n e n t a i r e s e t L e t t r e s , I V , 144. ^ L e t t r e s d e C a t h e r i n e d e M e d i c i s , I , 331-332, 339; M o n l u c , C o m r n e n t a i r e s , I I , 469-470. u s u a l l y b e c a u s e t h e o r d e r s h a d b e e n b a s e d on l a c k o f k n o w l e d g e o f a f f a i r s i n G u y e n n e . T h i s was t h e ' c a s e i n t h e summer o f 1562 when t h e c o u r t , a p p a r e n t l y t h i n k i n g t h e p a c i f i c a t i o n o f t h e p r o v i n c e w e l l a d v a n c e d , commanded B u r i e t o l e a d i n t o F r a n c e n u m b e r s o f t r o o p s w h i c h w o u l d a l m o s t s t r i p G u y e n n e o f m i l i t a r y f o r c e s . I n o p p o s i n g t h e s e o r d e r s M o n l u c o n c e a g a i n r a i s e d h i s s t o c k w i t h t h e G a s c o n n o b i l i t y . M o n l u c h a d t h e o p p o r t u n i t y o f w i n n i n g t h e g r a t i t u d e o f t h e a u t h o r i t i e s o f t h e c i t y o f B o r d e a u x by c o m i n g t o t h e i r d e f e n c e when a n a t t e m p t was made t o s e i z e t h e c i t y . H i s p o p u l a r i t y a n d s u p p o r t i n t h e p r o v i n c e i n c r e a s e d c o n s t a n t l y among t h e C a t h o l i c s w h i l e t h e H u g u e n o t s h a t e d a n d f e a r e d h i m f o r he p r a c t i s e d j u s t i c e by e x e c u t i n g men t o make " e x a m p l e s " o f t h e m t o t h e e x t e n t t h a t he was a c c o m p a n i e d b y two hangmen whom p e o p l e f a c e t i o u s l y c a l l e d h i s l a c k e y s . T h r o u g h o u t S e p t e m b e r M o n l u c ' s d e s i r e was t o do b a t t l e w i t h t h e H u g u e n o t c h i e f , S y m p h o r i e n de D u r f o r t , s e i g n e u r de D u r a s , b u t B u r i e was r e l u c t a n t a n d t h e p r o j e c t r e q u i r e d a l l t h e a v a i l a b l e f o r c e s i n G u y e n n e . F u r i o u s w i t h t h e o l d l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l , M o n l u c w r o t e a n g r y l e t t e r s t o t h e q u e e n m o t h e r m a k i n g r e f e r e n c e s t o B u r i e ' s H u g u e n o t r e l a t i v e s . " ' " He c l a i m e d t h a t i f he had h a d s o l e command, two m o n t h s 'would h a v e s e e n h i m d e a d o r M o n l u c , C o m m e n t a i r e s e t L e t t r e s , I V , 160. L9 Duras defeated but that every time he had sought to do battle with the Huguenot leader Burie had ruined his plans."*" The f i e r y Gascon captain f i n a l l y got his opportunity i n spite of his associate. The anticipated battle took place at Vergt on October 9, 1562 and the Catholic forces under Monluc won a decisive victory over the Huguenots. As he had done after the p a c i f i c a t i o n of Toulouse, Monluc immediately attempted to exploit his victory by requesting favours from the crown. For his brother he asked a company of l i g h t horse and the post of 2 governor i n the c i t y of Perigueux. For himself he asked the p r i v i l e g e of granting decrees of pardon and the restoration of the county of Gaure, previously granted him and then taken away i n a reunion of the royal domain. The king r e p l i e d t e l l i n g him that his requests had been found unreasonable and that he should content himself with the 500 l i v r e s he received monthly for his t a b l e . 5 E a r l y i n 1563 when victory for the Catholic army seemed l i k e l y , Monluc was instrumental i n the formation of a Catholic association i n the senechaussle of Agen ^ and the a f f i l i a t i o n 1 I b i d . , IV, 158. 2 Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 63. ^ I b i d . , No. 76; Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 196. k Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 190-195« 50 of that association with the great ligue embracing a l l the t e r r i t o r y i n Languedoc and Guyenne under the j u r i s d i c t i o n of the Parlement of Toulouse."'' In so doing he was cementing his position as champion and spokesman for the n o b i l i t y but he was also forming a Catholic organization to p a r a l l e l the synods of the Huguenots and to keep the l a t t e r under control when the 2 garrisons would be disbanded or reduced. A s i m i l a r league was formed at Bordeaux at Monluc's suggestion by Frederic de F o i x , comte de Candale, who informed the queen of i t s organization i n March, I563. The Catholic n o b i l i t y i n a remonstrance to the crown complained that while they had been commanded to disband, the Huguenots were s t i l l allowed their assemblies.^ Catherine de 4 Medicis, hearing of the leagues, commanded Monluc to destroy them. She had recently had experience with the association formed by Conde and with the triumvirate, both avowedly l o y a l to the crown yet both committed to achieving a purpose, i f necessary, i n spite of the crown and she was convinced that a l l leagues constituted a threat to the crown. Furthermore, l i k e the Huguenot organization, the leagues were l o c a l l y formed and such a manifestation of prov- i n c i a l independence could not pass unnoticed. """Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 197- 2 Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret, I, 344-345. ^Documents Pour Servir a. . . . , Nos. 91, 92. ^Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, I, 551-552. 5 Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 197- 51 Monluc arrived i n Bordeaux i n March and received n o t i f i c - ation of his appointment as lieutenant-general of the king i n Haute-Guyenne Burie was to r e t a i n authority i n that part of the province west of the River L o t . This was a source of d i s s a t i s - faction to Monluc for Burie, old and s i c k , had r e t i r e d to his lands i n Saintonge the previous October. Courteault suggests that Catherine did not want to aggrandize the vain captain too much or to offend the representatives of the old Gascon families too 2 greatly by favouring t h i s parvenu. According to his cwn none too modest account Monluc was prevailed upon to accept the appoint- ment by the combined efforts of a l l the nobles and officers present i n Bordeaux.5 Antoine de N o a i l l e s , governor of Bordeaux, had died just before Monluc's a r r i v a l i n the c i t y and his successor did not take office u n t i l the end of May. Burie was i n Saintonge. The govern- ment of the region and the execution of the edict accompanying the Peace of Amboise was l e f t e n t i r e l y to Monluc who remained i n Bordeaux almost three months. In f a c t , i n June Charles IX wrote to Monluc that he had told d'Escars that i f he did not go immediately to Bordeaux the king would send another in his place to whom he would give the o f f i c e . He had also commanded Burie to Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , 577. Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 197. Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , 580. 52 go t o h i s gouvernement t o g i v e o r d e r and oversee the maintenance of the e d i c t . W h e n Monluc l e f t Bordeaux he had o b t a i n e d from the Parlement support f o r the demand he addressed t o the k i n g t h a t Guyenne be d i v i d e d between h i m s e l f and B u r i e by senechaussees and not by r i v e r . He had not been g r a n t e d a u t h o r i t y over the whole of the p r o v i n c e and i t would o n l y add i n s u l t t o i n j u r y i f he had t o share w i t h B u r i e a u t h o r i t y over h i s home r e g i o n , the A g e n a i s , because i t was d i v i d e d by a r i v e r . At Agen Monluc was g i v e n a t r i u m p h a l e n t r y . C i t y o f f i c i a l s p r e s e n t e d him the keys of the c i t y w h i l e one hundred costumed c h i l d r e n shouted, " V i v e l e r o i et l e s i e u r de Monluc son l i e u t e n a n t ' . " At Condom the c o n s u l s o f f e r e d him a c h a i n of g o l d w i t h the o r d e r of S a i n t - M i c h e l worth 308 l i v r e s . The E s t a t e s of Agenais which met i n June was s t r o n g l y . C a t h o l i c and p r o t e s t e d a g a i n s t the terms of the Peace of Amboise. They r e g a r d e d Monluc as t h e i r l i b e r a t o r and asked t h a t the p a r t of t h e i r s i n e c h a u s s e e l y i n g west of the Lot be t a k e n from B u r i e ' s j u r i s d i c t i o n and p l a c e d under Monluc. The d i v i s i o n of the gouvernement c o n t i n u e d t o be a bone of c o n t e n t i o n w i t h Monluc who wrote t o the queen t h a t he understood B u r i e , a f t e r l e a v i n g the o t h e r p a r t of the gouvernement, had gone t o the c o u r t and t h a t a l l the r e g i o n s t i l l B u r i e ' s was i n r e v o l t Documents Pour S e r v i r a..., No. 107. C o u r t e a u l t , Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 205. 53 with no one doing anything about i t . "He has promised so many times to give you t h i s gouvernement," continued Monluc i r o n i c a l l y , "that you send him promptly to do his duty. As for me, I have no wish to be valet to him or to any other save the king and you; and w i l l do my duty i n the charge I've been g i v e n . . . . " """ Monluc was to wait u n t i l the beginning of 1565 when Catherine and Charles IX came into the province for further reward. At that time to encourage him Catherine made him a member of the Privy C o u n c i l . Immediately thereafter Burie, with impeccable timing for once, died leaving no reasonable alternative but to make Blaise de Monluc lieutenant-general of the king i n the entire province, an appointment to which was added the office of v i c e - 2 admiral of Guyenne. Governors of C i t i e s The t h i r d echelon of royal lieutenants i n the province of Guyenne was composed of those who commanded garrisons i n major c i t i e s and had authority over the neighbouring regions. They were known as governors of c i t i e s and resided i n such important 3 centres as Dax, Blaye, Bayonne and Bordeaux. The governor of a c i t y or f o r t i f i e d place was subordinate to the lieutenant-general though i n some cases not subordinate enough to please the l a t t e r Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 218. Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 216. Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 199-200. 5^ o f f i c e r . Men of the leading noble families such as the F o i x - Gandale were appointed to these o f f i c e s , often as one of several offices they possessed. Antoine de Noailles was captain of the Chateau du Ha and governor of Bordeaux, both royal o f f i c e s , and mayor of the c i t y , a municipal o f f i c e . The office of mayor had been occupied previously by another royal o f f i c e r , Jean de D a i l l o n , comte du Lude, who had been lieutenant-general of the king i n Guyenne and Poitou i n the absence of the king of Navarre. Noailles commanded a lieutenant and one hundred men and for remuneration he received 1 0 0 l i v r e s monthly, twice the stipend of his lieutenant and one-fifth that of Burie or Monluc. He rendered s u f f i c i e n t l y important service that Catherine wrote that the king was "sending him the gold chain of the order of Saint-Michel by the comte Des Cars, not wishing to leave him unremunerated for his s e r v i c e . " Burie, the senior o f f i c i a l i n the region, resented the influence of Noailles and sounded l i k e a petulant c h i l d when he gave instructions to his representative to t e l l the king that the seigneur de Noailles was l i v i n g i n the Chateau du Ha where he (Burie) wished to l i v e . Should not N o a i l l e s , as mayor of the town, l i v e i n the mayor's residence? Burie also reported that the keys of the c i t y were delivered nightly to Noailles and he Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, X , 8 l , 88. 55 f e l t that when he was i n the c i t y they should be delivered to him as lieutenant-general."'" Like any administration the govern- ment of Guyenne could be hampered by the pettiness of i t s members i n their relationships with one another. Antoine de Noailles had long been a f a i t h f u l royal o f f i c e r 2 and had served as ambassador i n England. His brother, de l ' l s l e , became Bishop of Dax and l a t e r ambassador to London and to Constantinpole. Through his wife, Jeanne de Gontaut, Antoine de Noailles was related to Jean de S a i n t - S u l p i c e , the competent and i n f l u e n t i a l ambassador to the court of P h i l i p I I . Thus Noailles was a member of a family well rewarded for f a i t h f u l service to the crown. At the end of January, 1563, soon after Catherine's l e t t e r announcing to him the king's award of the chain with the order of S a i n t - M i c h e l , Antoine de Noailles addressed a long memoire to the king on measures to be taken i n Guyenne to assure the p a c i f i c a t i o n of the province. He outlined the l e t t e r s i t would be important for the king to write, the appreciation to be expressed, recompense to be promised, admonitions to be given and f i n a n c i a l arrangements to be made. In his thorough analysis even the lieutenant-general "'"Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 82. 2 Edmond Cabie, Guerres de Religion dans le Sud-ouest de l a France et Principalement dans le Quercy d'apres les Papiers des Seigneurs de Saint-Sulpice de 1561 i 1590 ) A l b i : Imprimerie Noguies, 1906), p. 12. 56 received due attention; i t was necessary to write a very a f f e c t - ionate l e t t e r to Burie for the conservation of La Rochelle and the rest of Saintonge and the Angoumois, especially the ports threatened by the E n g l i s h . Similar l e t t e r s should be written to the l a Tremoille brothers, monsieur de Pons, and to a l l the senechaux, e s p e c i a l l y the senechal of Perigord who deserved p a r t i c u l a r praise and promise of recompense. The comte de Ventadour must be cautioned to take care i n the c i t y of Limoges and other important places i n Limousin. Laiazun, royal officer i n the c i t y of Bragerac, had not been r e s i d i n g i n that c i t y and the king should reprove him for i t . Good l e t t e r s should be sent to Candale and to the marquis de Trans, men with much credit and favour i n the region, who were very l o y a l and eager to be employed in the king's service. Candale had often offered to assist Noailles with his presence and that of his numerous followers. La Mote, lieutenant to the chateau and town of Dax, needed a l e t t e r of encouragement for his captain was i l l and i t would be well to write to the o f f i c e r s of the town also. Bordeaux, N o a i l l e s ' f i r s t r e s p o n s i b i l i t y , required repaires to i t s walls and, above a l l , pay for i t s s o l d i e r s . The governor had held assemblies of the inhabitants several times, assisted by d'Escars i n the l a s t , and with his memoire he was sending his majesty the record of the deliberations and the dispatch of d'Escars."*" Whereas many of Monluc's l e t t e r consisted either of p a r t i c u l a r d e t a i l s or of Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret, I, kS9. 57 g r a n d d e s i g n s , N o a i l l e s ' memoire p r o v i d e d a t h o u g h t f u l and p r a c t i c a l a n a l y s i s o f a c t i o n s r e q u i r e d f r o m t h e k i n g t o m a i n t a i n and e x p l o i t t h e l o y a l t y o f h i s s u b j e c t s i n Guyenne. L a c k o f s u c h a c c u r a t e i n f o r m a t i o n a t t h e c o u r t a b o u t a f f a i r s i n Guyenne l e d t o many d i f f i c u l t i e s . A n t o i n e de P a r d a i l l a n , b a r o n de G o n d r i n , l e f t t h e c o u r t a t p o n t a i n e b l e a u c o n g r a t u l a t i n g h i m s e l f on h i s a p p o i n t m e n t a s g o v e r n o r o f B o r d e a u x and c a p t a i n o f t h e C h a t e a u du Ha. The r e g e n t had h e a r d h i s r e q u e s t a n d b e s t o w e d an a p p r o p r i a t e r e w a r d on t h e l o y a l n o b l e . What a b l o w i t was t o l e a r n t h a t t h e o f f i c e was n o t v a c a n t I The d e a t h o f N o a i l l e s had b e e n n o t h i n g more t h a n r u m o u r . Some t i m e l a t e r t h i s man who h a d come s o c l o s e t o o f f i c e o n l y t o be d i s - a p p o i n t e d w r o t e t o t h e queen e x p r e s s i n g h i s l a c k o f c o n f i d e n c e i n h e r g o v e r n o r s i n s e v e r a l m a j o r c i t i e s . He a s s u r e d h e r t h a t he had no u l t e r i o r m o t i v e i n s o d o i n g b u t r e m i n d e d h e r t h a t when t h e g o u v e r n e m e n t o f B o r d e a u x had n o t b e e n v a c a n t , she had p r o m i s e d h i m p r e f e r e n c e i n t h e n e x t s i m i l a r a p p o i n t m e n t . A f t e r t h e d e a t h o f A n t o i n e de N o a i l l e s t h e . o f f i c e was r e q u e s t e d by F r a n c o i s d ' E s c a r s and he had r e c e i v e d i t but t h e s e n d i n g o f t h e l e t t e r s p a t e n t was d e l a y e d . M o n l u c p r o t e s t e d t h e g r a n t i n g o f t h i s new f a v o u r t o 2 d ' E s c a r s and t h e d e l a y i n s e n d i n g . t h e l e t t e r s p a t e n t l e d h i m . t o """Documents P o u r S e r v i r . a . , . , ;No 86. ' 2 M o n l u c , C o m m e n t a i r e s e t L e t t r e s , I V , 209. believe that the appointment had been revoked. In addition to d'Escars and Gondrin there were at least two other candidates seeking the appointment, N o a i l l e s ' son and Jean de V a i l l a c , the l a t t e r supported by Monluc. Jean de V a i l l a c even exercised the 2 office for a time under, a commission from Monluc. A l l the candidates pressed their cases at the court, assuring the queen of the men and means they would bring to the task. Gondrin, for example, told Catherine that i f i t pleased her to make provision for him, her majesty and the king would have "a f a i t h f u l subject and servitor who would have the means of making the king obeyed' .and preventing troubles, as much as any man i n Guyenne," a reference to the favour he possessed and the size of his s u i t e . 5 The efforts of V a i l l a c and Gondrin to obtain the office were of no a v a i l and they continued to serve as commanders of companies i n the province. Appointments at each l e v e l i n the royal government of the province were much sought a f t e r . Burie, already occupying a high o f f i c e , the duties of which he f a i l e d to f u l f i l , enlisted the support of the due de Montpensier and requested the office of 4 admiral of Guyenne after the death of the king of Navarre. That 1 I b i d . - , IV, 243. 2 I b i d . ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 86. 4 I b i d . , No. 80. 59 office was granted to the young Prince Henry of Navarre but Burie was made v i c e - a d m i r a l . ' Monluc had avidly sought appointment both i n Dauphine and i n Piedmont before beginning his r i s e in Guyenne and many candidates sought appointment as governors of c i t i e s . Their eagerness stemmed from ambition or merely from avarice for each office carried f i n a n c i a l remuneration and the m u l t i p l i c a t i o n of offices brought a commensurate m u l t i p l i c a t i o n of income. Moreover, the office carried opportunities for f i n a n c i a l gain from groups who wished to influence the o f f i c e r , and t h i s income was much greater than the stipend i t s e l f . The f i n a n c i a l returns alone, however, do not explain the zealous seeking after the o f f i c e . For the Gascon n o b i l i t y the path to honour and renown lay most often i n m i l i t a r y office and advancement. That riches should accompany honour was to be expected. In f a c t , Courteault said of Monluc that he could not conceive of honours without 1 money. The appointment to office required sponsors, the more i n f l u e n t i a l the better. In seeking appointment Monluc attempted to e n l i s t the support of the due de Guise, son of his o r i g i n a l patron, and to ingratiate himself with the king of Navarre. D'Escars r e l i e d upon his friendship with Antoine de Bourbon who interceded for him at times with the king, the queen mother, the due de Guise and the cardinal of Lorraine. In the youth of Henry II d'Escars Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 2 0 7 . 60 had been one of h i s f a v o u r i t e s . For appointment i n the p r o v i n c e of Guyenne i t was h e l p f u l t o have some c o n n e c t i o n w i t h the g o v e r n o r , A n t o i n e de Bourbon. In 1559 A n t o i n e ' s war c o u n c i l c o n s i s t e d of B u r i e , Monluc, J a r n a c and d ' E s c a r s , a l l of whom were t o be g r a n t e d i m p o r t a n t o f f i c e s i n the r e g i o n under h i s j u r i s d i c t i o n . Appointments were made by the crown but i t would appear t h a t they were n o r m a l l y recommended by the governor f o r the crown's r a t i f i c a t i o n . Thus upon the death of the g o v e r n o r , N o a i l l e s wrote the queen a s k i n g c o n f i r m a t i o n of h i s office"'" and B u r i e wrote 2 t h a n k i n g the k i n g f o r c o n f i r m a t i o n of h i s . Remuneration d i d not c o n s i s t merely of s a l a r y f o r the performance of d u t i e s . Many t h i n g s were r e q u i r e d f o r a man's honour, c h i e f l y t h a t he l i v e as b e f i t t e d h i s s t a t i o n and t h a t h i s whole f a m i l y r e f l e c t h i s honour. I t was f e u d a l t r a d i t i o n t h a t the k i n g m a i n t a i n the f a m i l i e s of h i s v a s s a l s . Monluc took advantage of h i s v i c t o r i e s t o p r e s s h i s c l a i m s upon the crown and i n a d d i t i o n to honours f o r h i m s e l f he sought them f o r h i s b r o t h e r and f o r h i s sons. Monluc was a l s o k e e n l y c o n s c i o u s of the i m p r e s s i o n he conveyed by the manner of d r e s s , by the t a b l e he s p r e a d , and by the g e n e r o s i t y he d i s p l a y e d . On one o c c a s i o n he had the o p p o r t u n i t y t o e n t e r t a i n the due de Guise and the due de Saxe i n h i s p a v i l i o n . I t was Monluc's boast t h a t a f t e r the due de G u i s e t h e r e was no Documents Pour S e r v i r a..., No. 78. """Ruble, Jeanne d ' A l b r e t , I , 466. 61 table i n the camp longer or better than h i s . After enjoying a sumptuous repast Monluc's guests complimented him and he r e p l i e d that i f they would speak to the king on his behalf for s i l v e r vessels, the next time he would be able to serve them as they deserved. They did indeed t e l l the king, Henry I I , about the dinner, assuring him that even the king could not have provided better meats, better wines or colder and that Monluc deserved s i l v e r vessels for his t a b l e . The king promised to provide them."*" Monluc missed few opportunities to seek tangible rewards even to the extent of replying ungraciously to l e t t e r s of congratulation 2 that when he spread his table words made poor meat. When men amassed multiple offices i t was impossible for them to personally perform the accompanying duties. Indeed, some officers seem to have been l i t t l e inclined to f u l f i l l the r e q u i r e - ments of any of their o f f i c e s . The governor of Guyenne was not resident i n the province. Burie and d'Escars were both rebuked by Charles IX for non-residence. Jarnac repeatedly asked permission 3 to leave La Rochelle and attend to a f f a i r s at his home. Both Burie and Jarnac were old men and the s t r a i n of events, not s u r p r i s i n g l y , was hard on them. That they wished at times to escape from the pressure was to be expected. Even at the l e v e l of the governors of c i t i e s non-residence was a problem as Noailles pointed out to the queen. Monluc seems to have been the exception among the highest "''Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , 362-364. 2 Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 214. ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . . , No. 51. 62 o f f i c e r s of Guyenne for he was always i n the f i e l d even to the extent of taking only ten days to settle a f f a i r s when his wife died. His advice to the king's lieutenant was to keep constantly on the move so that men, always expecting the o f f i c e r ' s a r r i v a l , would be more anxious to obey.""" A l o c a l noble of great renown because of his m i l i t a r y e x p l o i t s , the number and reputation of his c l i e n t s , and the patronage he bestowed, could gain great support from the p r o v i n c i a l Parlement, the l o c a l estates, the c i t i e s and especially from the n o b i l i t y . At times, l i s t e n i n g to the voices around him, he would forget that he was the representative of a far away central government. Although he might be the l o c a l champion, the l i b e r a t o r , the hero, he could s t i l l be useful to the crown. In fact, his l o c a l renown was the very factor-that made him most useful to the crown i f he could be controlled as Monluc was by f l a t t e r y and g i f t s . Because of the absence of the king of Navarre, the age and indecision of Burie, and the events of c i v i l war which called for the m i l i t a r y talents of the ambitious and energetic Blaise de Monluc, he was the central figure i n the drama of royal government i n Guyenne during the f i r s t War of R e l i g i o n . His contribution supplemented by the work of a few i n t e l l i g e n t r e a l i s t s l i k e Antoine de Noailles went a long way toward the maintenance of royal authority i n the province. "'"Monluc, Commentaires, II, 469. CHAPTER I I I MILITARY ORGANIZATION AND ROYAL AUTHORITY I n an extended remonstrance addressed t o C h a r l e s IX Monluc o f f e r e d the k i n g d e t a i l e d a d v i c e r e g a r d i n g the appointment of m i l i t a r y o f f i c e r s . " * " The k i n g ' s w i l l i n g n e s s t o see h i s o f f i c e r s p e r s o n a l l y was c o n s i d e r e d by the v e t e r a n s o l d i e r t o be e s s e n t i a l t o o b t a i n i n g l o y a l s e r v i c e . Law r e q u i r e d t h a t a s p i r a n t s t o such j u d i c i a l o f f i c e s as p r e s i d e n t , c o u n c i l l o r and l i e u t e n a n t - g e n e r a l be examined by the d o c t o r s of the lav/ and the c o u n c i l l o r s of Parlement under the c h a i r m a n s h i p of the c h a n c e l l o r . Monluc assumed t h a t t h i s p r a c t i c e was c a r r i e d out and he recommended i t s a d o p t i o n f o r appointments t o m i l i t a r y o f f i c e as w e l l . The Gascon c a p t a i n accused the k i n g of awarding the o f f i c e s of governor and c a p t a i n too e a s i l y , even i n response to the r e q u e s t s of the women he danced w i t h . Such an o f f i c e r was e x t r e m e l y i m p o r t a n t t o the defence of a c i t y f o r he c o u l d overcome i t s weaknesses and p r e p a r e i t s f o r c e s . Moreover, enemies, knowing h i s w e l l - deserved r e p u t a t i o n , would a v o i d a t t a c k i n g . Young men s h o u l d not expect immediate advancement but s h o u l d be p r e p a r e d t o s e r v e an a p p r e n t i c e s h i p under o l d e r , e x p e r i e n c e d o f f i c e r s . L i k e the p o s i t i o n of governor and c a p t a i n of a c i t y , the o f f i c e s of Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I I , 374-398. marechal de camp and maitre de camp for cavalry and infantry were c r u c i a l offices not to be l i g h t l y f i l l e d . Men f i l l i n g them must be neither r i v a l s nor over-dependent on each other. Since victory and defeat depended on these o f f i c e r s , the king and his lieutenants should consider repeatedly and even tremble over the appointment.' Monluc feared that a l l these offices l i k e the honour of Knight of the Order were being given out too freely where once they had been t i t l e s of honour reserved for people of good name. The remedy proposed by the man who claimed to be the oldest captain i n the kingdom was to i n s t i t u t e an examination before a s p e c i a l board. The due d'Anjou, Charles' brother, who had won two battles even though he was s t i l l a youth, could serve as m i l i t a r y chancellor and the panel of doctors and councillors would be composed of o l d , experienced captains. Anyone who requested office would be summoned before the examining board to give an account of himself. He would be asked where he had performed his apprenticeship and under whom and what deeds of honour he had won. Only on the recommendation of the experienced captains would any appointment be made and the king could avoid importuning for m i l i t a r y office by making the fact known. Monluc claimed that many benefits would result from the adoption of his recommendations. The apprentices to the carrying 65 of arms, knowing that they couldn't enter by the window would work and study d i l i g e n t l y to impress those who must open the door to them. Those appointed to office would not slacken their efforts for they would wish to vindicate their choice by the captains and to ensure their continued promotion. Appointment of generals of cavalry and colonels of infantry would be beyond this scheme, according to Monluc, for these offices must be given to princes and great l o r d s . However, even youth and inexperience on their part would riot matter provided the maitre de camp was an experienced soldier chosen with care. Since many would be anxious to advance by arms, Monluc recommended that the king keep a r o l l by province of a l l men of promise and their p a r t i c u l a r q u a l i t i e s so that vacancies i n a province could be f i l l e d from among those- l i s t e d . Monluc was certain that those who knew they were on the l i s t would take heart and work hard to render service to the king and that those not on the l i s t would expose themselves to a thousand dangers to get their names placed on the l i s t . The king must be prompt to add the names of worthy men to the l i s t which Monluc suggested should bear the name, "book of honour." Like Catherine de Medicis,'*' Monluc attributed the use of this technique to Louis XII who even handled j u d i c i a l appointments by means of a r o l l of possible candidates according to a story Monluc recalled from Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, II, 9 4 . 66 h i s y o u t h . F u r t h e r i l l u s t r a t i o n s of the b e n e f i t s of such a t e c h n i q u e f o r the a l l o c a t i o n of patronage were drawn from the p r a c t i c e of Odet de F o i x under whom Monluc had s e r v e d h i s own a p p r e n t i c e s h i p and from Monluc's p e r s o n a l e x p e r i e n c e as governor i n S i e n n a and M o n t a l c i n o . Not o n l y s h o u l d the k i n g reward the f a i t h f u l by appointment t o o f f i c e but he s h o u l d be a c c e s s i b l e t o h i s s u b j e c t s . A g r a c i o u s word spoken by the k i n g was most important f o r t h e encouragement of h i s l o y a l s u p p o r t e r s . I f the spoken word c o u l d be accompanied by f i n a n c i a l reward so much the b e t t e r ! ' Monluc's recommendation was t h a t C h a r l e s IX make these f i n a n c i a l rewards p e r s o n a l l y . Not o n l y would i t i n c r e a s e the s u b j e c t ' s t i e s t o h i s s o v e r i e g n but the award would r e a c h i t s d e s t i n a t i o n d i r e c t l y w i t h o u t h a v i n g t o pass t h r o u g h the hands of o f f i c i a l s where much was c e r t a i n t o s t i c k . Monluc's s u g g e s t i o n s t o C h a r l e s IX r e g a r d i n g m i l i t a r y appointments i n the p r o v i n c e s obscure the s i t u a t i o n as i t was i n the e a r l y y e a r s of the Wars of R e l i g i o n . H i s remonstrance i m p l i e s a g r e a t e r degree of r o y a l c o n t r o l over such appointments i n Guyenne t h a n C h a r l e s IX- was a b l e t o a s s e r t . I f the wrong people e x e r c i s e d the o f f i c e of c a p t a i n no one s h o u l d bear g r e a t e r r e s p o n s i b i l i t y than Monluc h i m s e l f f o r he had as much c o n t r o l over r e c r u i t i n g and appointments i n the p r o v i n c e as anyone as the e v e n t s of 1561 t o 1563 show. C h a r l e s IX had a p p a r e n t l y 67 r e j e c t e d the charge t h a t he was r e s p o n s i b l e f o r the appointment o f i n f e r i o r c a p t a i n s by s h i f t i n g the blame to h i s lieutenants.'*' Monluc r e f u s e d to accept the blame and s t a t e d that the k i n g had caused the problem by g r a n t i n g the o f f i c e to so many humble people that gentlemen no longer d e s i r e d such an appointment. T i t l e s t h a t were once the preserve of the high born were now a c c e s s i b l e to the common c a t t l e - d r o v e r . Monluc was concerned about the t i t l e s and honour given these men r a t h e r and the f a c t that they were granted the a u t h o r i t y t o command a s m a l l group of s o l d i e r s . He f e l t a p a r t i a l s o l u t i o n would be to i n c r e a s e companies t o one thousand, the s i z e of the l e g i o n s of F r a n c i s I . M i l i t a r y O r g a n i z a t i o n and Forces i n Guyenne French armed f o r c e s of the s i x t e e n t h century f e l l i n t o two major c a t e g o r i e s , those of the o r d i n a i r e des guerres and those of the e x t r a o r d i n a i r e des guerres,. d i v i s i o n s h i s t o r i c a l r a t h e r than l o g i c a l . The former was p r o v i d e d with i t s own r e s o u r c e s and t r e s o r i e r s . The ban and the a r r i e r e ban and companies of ordonnance came under the o r d i n a i r e des g u e r r e s . The e x t r a o r d i n a i r e des guerres c o n s i s t e d of bodies of troops Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I I , 390. I b i d . "Du temps que je commencay a p o r t e r . l e s armes, l e t i l t r e de c a p i t a i n e e s t o i t t i l t r e d'honneur, et des g e n t i l - hommes de bonne maison ne se desdaignoient de l e p o r t e r . Je . n'ay pas a p p e l l e d'autre t i l t r e mes enfans. A present l e moindre picqueboeuf se f a i c t a p p e l l e r , s ' i l a eu quelque commandement." 68 i n i t i a l l y recruited for short time service but l a t e r as part of a standing army. It operated with exceptional resources, often improvised, and was administered by special personnel. Under i t s administration fought such forces as companies of mercenaries and gens de p i e d e t de cheval, both French and foreign. L'Ordinaire des Guerres 'Of feudal o r i g i n , the ban and the a r r i e r e ban *"* consisted o a l l those who had a m i l i t a r y obligation to the king as possessors of f i e f s . Personal service was normal but a man unable to serve could present a replacement and a.man i n e l i g i b l e to serve, a commoner or churchman, must pay a tax which usually amounted to o n e - f i f t h : the value of his f i e f , . This feudal m i l i t a r y force was attached to the feudal administrative units, the b a i l l i a g e s and senechaussees. Letters patent for the convocation of the ban and the a r r i e r e ban were sent to b a i l l i s and senechaux. Two montres or reviews took place: a preliminary montre en robes at which the roll.;was checked, replacements presented, defaulters t r i e d , non-servers taxed and the taxes sent to an elected receveur and a montre en armes when the king wanted the ban to march. Units of the ban were enseignes consisting of three For the development of the ban and the a r r i e r e ban i n the sixteenth century see Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 610-617; and Gaston Z e l l e r , Les . Institutions de l a France au X V I e Siecle (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1948), pp. 312-314. 69 hundred men when on foot, of f i f t y hommes d'armes or of one hundred archers. Although the service had o r i g i n a l l y been unpaid as the feudal due of vassals, the Estates-General of 1484 requested that men of the ban be paid and by the middle of the sixteenth century that pay was one hundred l i v r e s for a captain, f i f t y for a lieutenant, forty for lesser o f f i c e r s such as ensign bearer, twenty for hommes d'armes, ten for archers, and s i x to eight for foot s o l d i e r s . Exemptions from service under the ban extended from the great o f f i c e r s of the crown to the o f f i c e r s of sovereign courts and the bourgeois of major towns. Men who served i n companies of ordonnance were of necessity exempt since they couldn't serve i n two companies at the same time. Men f i t for service tended to pass into the companies of ordonnance and the ban lost i t s effectiveness as i t became comprised of old men unfit, for service and replacements o u t f i t t e d at the least possible expense. During the f i r s t of the c i v i l wars the due d'Etampes, governor of Bretagne, made repeated reference i n his corres- pondence to men of the arriere ban. In June, 1562 the due de Montpensier requested troops from Etampes to a s s i s t him i n Angoumois.^ Etampes wrote to Catherine that men serving under the a r r i e r e ban made up the major part of his forces, that they 'Documents Pour Servir a..., No. 2 6 . 70 would provide the service they owed the crown but that he could not force them to serve outside the region because of the protests they would make about their p r i v i l e g e s . However, he assured Catherine that i f she could arrange to have them paid at the king's expense, he would hope to be able to find both foot and horse s o l d i e r s of the a r r i l r e ban who would render good service wherever she should wish to employ them."'" Etamp.es wrote simultaneously to Antoine de Bourbon t e l l i n g him of Montpensier's request, surveying the scanty r e l i a b l e forces he had i n the major c i t i e s of, Bre;tagne, and stating that the remainder of his troops were of the a r r i l r e ban and so concerned about their p r i v i l e g e s that he would have to fight them to make them go out- side the region. Again he stated that i f the king should care to send him a commission and some money he would be able to 2 raise men to serve i n the region or wherever his majesty desired. A t h i r d l e t t e r of the same date was addressed to Charles IX by Ijtampes to assure the king that a good number of the noblesse of the region were most anxious to obey the king's command but that they had been awaiting his w i l l for about six weeks and would not wait much longer. Furthermore, i f Charles should command FJtampes to serve outside the region, these men would be unwilling to do service under the a r r i e r e ban but i f the king could see f i t to I b i d . , No. 27. 2 I b i d . , No. 28. http://Etamp.es 71 grant t h e i r solde a good number would serve.* Less than ten days l a t e r Etampes wrote again to the king of Navarre stating that since Catherine and Antoine had both commanded him to go to the assistance of Montpensier and the inhabitants raised d i f f i c u l t i e s about the maintenance of their p r i v i l e g e s , he had undertaken to increase the forces i n his majesty's pay to a number indicated i n a statement he was sending. He promised that'othese troops would always be ready to march at Antoine's command but that he was r e t a i n i n g the "arierebans et autres forces ordinaires" of 2 the region for l o c a l defence. In Guyenne Monluc and Burie received r o y a l instructions early i n May to take the f i e l d . They were to assemble the noblesse of the region and the a r r i e r e ban i n order to supplement the forces at t h e i r d i s p o s a l . 5 Letters patent were published at Aix en Provence the preceding month for the convocation of the ban and a r r i e r e ban according to the comte de Tende. That these troops were not raised according to his command or by him as governor i s clear from the report he sent before the queen. However, i t i s equally clear that under normal circumstances they would have been and that he considered the m i l i t a r y authority his 1 I b i d . , No.. 27. 2 I_bid., No. 3 0 . ^Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 175« k \ Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 16. 72 prerogative as governor, a prerogative being usurped by his own son and lieutenant, the comte de Sommerive. The freedom of men of the a r r i e r e ban from service outside the kingdom, a p r i v i l e g e i n effect from 15^8 to 1557 ̂ seems to have been extended, at least i n Bretagne where men of the a r r i e r e ban saw t h e i r obligation limited to service within the gouvernement Many of these men, however, were w i l l i n g to change their status, and pay, by e n l i s t i n g i n other kinds of forces for royal s e r v i c e . Under the administration of 1'ordinaire des guerres besides forces of the ban and the a r r i e r e ban were the companies of ordonnance.. These companies originated i n the reforms of Charles ~~~———"—~"~" .i VII, became- a permanent force i n the king's employ and formed the 2 nucleus of the royal army. The gendarmerie making up the companies were volunteers of "la qualite de gentilhomme", at least seventeen years of age for an archer and nineteen for an homme d'armes. They were grouped i n lances, small groups arranged about an homme d'armes armed with a lance. Usually a company had about half again as many archers as homines d'armes and many more support- ing foot s o l d i e r s . Command of these companies was reserved for princes of the blood, great o f f i c e r s of the crown, and men of great reputation. The captain's stipend was eight hundred l i v r e s ; "''Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 6l6. 2 For the companies of ordonnance see Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 620-623. 73 the remuneration of the lieutenant who often exercised effective command, five hundred; of the enseigne and guidon, four hundred; of the hommes d'armes, one hundred eighty; and of the archers, ninety.* In addition to payment i n cash from the.royal finances, men of these companies were supposed to receive payment i n kind from the c i t y of t h e i r garrison. Montres for control and payment were scheduled for every three months i n February, May, August and November i n the presence of commissaires ordinaires des guerres and controleurs o r d i n a i r e s . These o f f i c e r s were accountable to a t r e s o r i e r de 1'ordinaire des guerres and a statement was ultimately submitted to the king's c o u n c i l . At the time of review men, mounts and armour were c a r e f u l l y inspected and the garrison c i t y was to provide each soldier with three month's supply of candles, vinegar and s a l t ; the c i t y was s i m i l a r l y responsible for fodder for the horses, lodging and firewood for the men. The companies were often required to be on the move with their i t i n e r a r i e s determined by the governor and t h e i r movements watched by a commissaire appointed by the k i n g . One quarter of the men were normally on three month's leave at any time although the practice developed of granting longer leave without pay i n peace time and r e c a l l i n g a l l s o l d i e r s of the company i n time of *The scale of pay was higher during the Wars of Religion although the l i k e l i h o o d of receiving the pay was often remote. See Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 625. The pay of the hommes d'armes was raised to 400 l i v r e s and that of the archer, to 200. 74 war. The chief o f f i c e r s were expected to serve four months annually i n the company with the captain taking personal command for the period from May through August when f i g h t i n g usually took place. Companies of ordonnance were the strongest element i n the armies of Louis XII and Francis I but development of firearms contributed to a decrease i n the value of such troops and especially of the heavily armed hommes d'armes who were supplanted by the more mobile chevaux-legers with modern arms."" Companies of ordonnance i n the province of Guyenne were under the command of such men as the king of Navarre, the marechal 2 de Thermes, de T e r r i d e , de Jarnac, Burie and Monluc. As d i f f i c u l t - ies began to mount the weight of command f e l l upon Burie and Monluc who were without money and almost without troops. Each had a company of f i f t y hommes d'armes and they could mobilize the company of Antoine de Bourbon, a force of one hundred lances garrisoned at Agen, and the company of the marechal de Thermes comprising f i f t y lances. Henri de Beam, young son of the king At this period the proportion was one and one-half archers to each hommes d'armes and the archers were l i g h t cavalry (chevaux-legers). Ferdinand L o t , Recherches sur les E f f e c t i f s des Armees Francaises des Guerres d ' l t a l i e aux Guerres de R e l i g i o n , 1494-1562 (Paris: S. E.V.P. E.N.. 1962), p. 191. ' 2 Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 138. •^Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 155. De Ruble states here that Burie and Monluc each had a company of ordonnance of t h i r t y hommes d'armes but i n the Pieces J u s t i f i c a t i v e s of the same volume, pp. 427-432 there appears an "Ordonnance de Burie pour l a p a c i f i c a t i o n de l a Guyenne" given at Agen i n October 156l~and signed among others by Burie and Monluc, captains of f i f t y "hommes d'armes des ordonnances." 75 of Navarre, must also have had a company for his father told Burie to ask captain Arne, guidon of A n t o i n e ' 8 company, to r mobilize what he could of his company so that the governor could command them together with Monluc's company and that of his own 1 son. Companies of ordonnance as standing forces were maintained when t h e i r commanders died and t h e i r disposition depended on the royal w i l l . When the marechal de Thermes died his company was divided between Francois d'Escars, favourite of the king of Navarre, and the vicomte de Martigues, nephew and lieutenant of 2 the governor of Bretagne. Monluc's protest to the king and queen over t h i s d i v i s i o n demonstrated his concern at the prospect of l o s i n g troops from Guyenne and perhaps, his jealousy for d'Escars but i t also revealed some c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of the company of ordonnance. Relatives "of de Thermes, of de Bellegarde, lieutenant of his company, and of de Masses, his enseigne, formed the major part of the company. In fact de Bellegarde, the lieutenant, was himself a brother-in-law of the marechal and de Masses, his enseigne, was s i m i l a r l y a close r e l a t i v e . Monluc asked the office senechal of Toulouse for Roger de Saint-Lary, seigneur de Bellegarde, and his request was granted but his request of the I b i d . , I, k2k. Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 23, "Charles IX au vicomte de Martigues," mai, 1562. ?6 f u n c t i o n of v i g u i e r f o r the enseigne was denied. Monluc was convinced t h a t the s o l d i e r s , l o y a l r e l a t i v e s of the l a t e marechal de Thermes, would be u n w i l l i n g to c a r r y arms i f the company were d i v i d e d and h i s j e a l o u s y c l e a r l y showed i n h i s l e t t e r to the queen, "I wish to spend my l i f e c l o s e to you... and not to k i l l day and n i g h t here to make great and r i c h others whose only s e r v i c e i s to make those who do serve d i s c o n t e n t . " He i d e n t i f i e d the object of h i s c h o l e r f o r he suggested that C a t h e r i n e grant him leave and send d'Escars who had obtained a commission as l i e u t e n a n t of the k i n g i n Guyenne while Monluc had n e i t h e r "gaiges n i e s t a t " a p p r o p r i a t e t o the s e r v i c e he rendered and served at h i s own expense.* Two months l a t e r Monluc once again wrote t o the queen complaining about the d i v i s i o n of the company 2 which he c a l l e d one of the best of France. The o l d c a p t a i n emphasized the s t r a t e g i c importance of the gendarmerie and noblesse f o r the enemy had more gens de p i e d . T h i r t y - t w o hommes d'armes and forty-two a r c h e r s of the company had gone to t h e i r homes not w i s h i n g to serve under d'Escars but r a t h e r to have t h e i r o l d o f f i c e r s over them. D'Escars may have been regarded as an o u t s i d e r i n Guyenne f o r he came from Haute V i e n n e 5 *Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 132-146. 2 I b i d . , IV, 146-148. Cabie", Guerres de r e l i g i o n dans l e sud-ouest de l a France, p. 5, n. 1. 77 but had spent most of his career at the court. As early as 1536 he was i n the forefront among the favourites of the Dauphin, l a t e r to be Henry II.""" The s i t u a t i o n was further complicated because Hugues de Thermes, guidon of the company, had gone before the 2 king after his father's death to request the command. While en route to the court he was taken by a Huguenot band and imprisoned at Orleans. Released by Cond^ about two and a half months l a t e r , he returned to Bordeaux but Burie who had heard that he was coming with fifteen commissions from the king ^ assumed that the commissions were forged and that their c a r r i e r was a Huguenot spy. The unfortunate young baron de Thermes was imprisoned at the Chateau du Ha and at the news of his arrest the hommes d'armes 4 devoted to the son of their old captain, abandoned the company. In spite of Monluc's protest and the ambition of Hugues de Thermes the company was divided and Masses, enseigne of the marechal became lieutenant of d'Escars' company while Boisjourdan, a guidon of the old company became Martigues' lieutenant.^ The """Lucien Romier, La carriere d'un f a v o r i : Jacques d'Albon de Saint-Andre (Paris: P e r r i n , 1 9 0 9 ) , p. 2 5 . 2 Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, l47n. 1. ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 5 0 , "Burie et Monluc a Antoine de Bourbon," 7 aout, 1 5 6 2 . 4 Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 147. 5 I b i d . , IV, 1 3 9 . Perhaps de Ruble f a i l e d to identify Hugues de Bazordan, seigneur de Thermes. c f . Monluc, Commentaires, I I , 441. 78 services of the o f f i c e r s of the company, and thus of the men, were assured by their promotion. New companies of ordonnance were created not only by the d i v i s i o n of e x i s t i n g ones but by royal decree and their command was a coveted p r i z e . Joachim de Monluc, seigneur de Lioux, brother of B l a i s e , was popular with n o b i l i t y and people. After leading a makeshift company of the noblesse against the Huguenots i n the defence of Perigueux his request for a company of ordonnance of f i f t y hommes d'armes * was supported by the due de Montpensier, 2 Burie and Monluc. Blaise de Monluc maintained that should the sedition continue i n France, he could come to the queen's aid and leave his popular brother to f i l l his role i n Guyenne. As further reason to grant the company, he suggested that he himself deserved much recompense for his services and the company for his brother could be regarded as a f i r s t instalment. In spite of the efforts of his sponsors Joachim de Monluc did not receive a company of ordonnance.5 L'Extraordinaire des Guerres Companies of gens de pied came under the administration of ^Documents Pour Servir 5..., No. 63- "Joachim de Monluc a Antoine de Bourbon." 11 octobre, 1562. 2 I b i d . , No. 6 4 , "Le due de Montpensier a Catherine de Medicis," 14. octobre, 1562; Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 170, "Monluc a l a royne," 12 octobre, 1562. ^Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 171n. 79 1'extraordinaire des guerres.*"" Throughout the sixteenth century their importance increased and they comprised an ever greater proportion of the armed forces. The improvement of l i g h t f i r e - arms gave them an advantage over troops armed with lances. These bands were raised by commissions of the king usually granted to a captain with whom he dealt d i r e c t l y . The commission decreed the exact number of men to be raised and the captain was expected to raise no more for some would be without pay, forced to l i v e off the land, and to r a i s e no fewer for he would be making an i l l i c i t p r o f i t , pocketing the pay of the soldiers not r e c r u i t e d . Men were enrolled after being presented to commissaires and controleurs de 11 extraordinaire des,guerres. They were recruited by the captain i n a designated region under the surveillance of governor, senechaux, and b a i l l i s . Unlike the companies of ordonnance, bands of gens de pied usually had as captains men of war, sometimes of humble o r i g i n , who e f f e c t i v e l y commanded their own companies. Remuneration, supposedly paid at monthly reviews, -consisted of one hundred six l i v r e s for the captain, f i f t y - s i x for the lieutenant, twenty for sergents and caporaux, and six to nine for pikemen and musketeers. Although Doucet states that the king dealt d i r e c t l y with the captains for the r a i s i n g of gens de pied et de cheval the practice i n Guyenne and i n the other parts of the kingdom was to^grant For companies of gens de pied see Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 632-638. ! 80 commissions to the governor, lieutenant-general or another great m i l i t a r y figure i n the province. These commissions were sometimes, i f not always, blank so that the man to whom they were given could choose the captains and delegate the authority for r e c r u i t i n g the troops. Monluc recounted that Catherine de Medicis and the king of Navarre resolved to send him into Guyenne "avec patentes et permission de lever gens a pied et sicheval."* He arrived i n Bordeaux near the end of December 1561 and proceeded to r a i s e two hundred arquebusiers and one hundred argoulets whom he put under 2 the command of T i l l a d e t , a protege of h i s . Almost immediately Burie, on Monluc's advice, asked for a supplementary levy of five or s i x hundred arquebusiers. 5 The gens de pied raised by Monluc were to become^an important part of the r o y a l army for those commanded by captain Charry became the nucleus of the f i r s t regiment of the gardes francais established i n 1563* _ In similar fashion, l e t t e r s and commissions had been sent to Burie i n September for the r a i s i n g of t r o o p s . 5 On May 8, 1562 *Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , I I , 3*+5« 2 I b i d . , I I , 348. 5 R u b l e , Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 156. L Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 174n. 5 R u b l e , Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 424, piece j u s t i f i c a t i f , "Le r o i de Navarre a M. de B u r i e , " 4 septembre, 1561, 81 Charles IX wrote at least eight l e t t e r s to Burie and Monluc, surely a r e f l e c t i o n of the degree of disruption i n the kingdom. Charles IX commanded them to take the f i e l d with a l l the companies of gens d'.armes at t h e i r disposal and the s i x or eight enseignes of gens de pied they had raised."'" He included once again blank 2 • commissions for the r a i s i n g of gens de guerre. Sometimes the king's approval followed the r a i s i n g of gens de pied et de cheval rather than preceding i t . This was certainly the case when after the battle of Vergt Monluc recruited gens de pied and o f f i c e r s from the ranks of the defeated Huguenot army of Duras.^ The six companies of gens de pied raised after the battle of Vergt were granted by Monluc to the captains Mauvesin and Peyrelongue, two of Duras' best. When a c i t y . p r a region was taken by royal forces, the king's lieutenant undertook to see that i t was adequately garrisoned and Charles IX wrote Monluc sending the Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 21, "Memoire de'Charles IX au Burie et Monluc" includes reference to "eight ensigns that they were asked to have r a i s e d , " the e d i t o r ' s footnote gives an alternat reading of "seven" arid some of the l e t t e r s of 8 May, 1562 refer to s i x . 2 Eight l e t t e r s to Burie and/or Monluc dated 8 May, 1562 are contained i n the pieces j u s t i f i c a t i v e s of Ruble-, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, kkl-hk2. On the same day Charles IX wrote to Noailles and to the Parlement of Toulouse and issued i n s t r u c t i o n to Negrepelisse whom he was sending into Guyenne and Languedoc to persuade the noblesse to join Monluc and B u r i e . Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, I83. I b i d . , IV, 315. 82 confirmation and authorization for the companies raised by the baron de Pardiant and the seigneur de La Chappelle on Monluc's orders for the defence of Lectoure.* Just as.blank commissions for the naming of officers and r a i s i n g of troops had been sent to Monluc and to Burie, so they were sent to Montpensier when.he was preparing to enter Guyenne 2 as lieutenant-general. The king urged him strongly to send into France under Burie's command reinforcements fqr the royal army and to raise new companies to be employed by Monluc i n Guyenne. Among the forces of 1'extraordinaire des guerres were the chevaux-legers, l i g h t l y armed cavalry. Captain Peyrot de Monluc, son of B l a i s e , was frequently entrusted with the command of 3 substantial numbers of the troops under his father's authority. Peyrot normally commanded a company of̂ one hundred chevaux-legers. After the Peace of Amboise when Monluc was commanded to disband most of the forces i n Guyenne he asked that his son's troops be converted in.to a company of f i f t y hommes d 1 armes, a change which would bring them under the ordinaire des guerres as a company of k ordonnance. Monluc also requested that some of the new companies ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 76. ^ u b l e , Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, k^O. 3 ^ Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 187. h Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 287. 83 be maintained and the king r e p l i e d that although he would prefer to see them disbanded, Monluc might maintain as many as he should judge to be indispensable.""" In addition to the companies they commanded, some of the king's o f f i c e r s were granted personal guards. Antoine de Bourbon obtained for himself a personal guard of twenty-five Swiss 2 s o l d i e r s . Monluc and Burie were each authorized to have a garde p a r t i c u l i e r e of t h i r t y hommes de pied and twenty arquebusiers a c h e v a l I n October and November 1563 Monluc asked that he and k Burie be allowed to maintain their guards but the next month he announced that his guard had been disbanded i n accordance with the command he had received.'' The defence of f o r t i f i e d places was undertaken by special troops sometimes headed by a captain given the honorable t i t l e of governor.^ Old s o l d i e r s , wounded or otherwise incapacitated for 7 active service, served under the name of mortes-payes. These •""Ibid., IV, 217. 2 Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV, 298. ^Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 211 and n. 4 I b i d . , IV, 281, 286. 5 I b i d . , IV, 304. ^Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 64?. 7 Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 290. Monluc requested the queen to see that the mortes-payes of the chSteaux de Bordeaux get t h e i r pay since they had not been paid for a year. 84 men, capable of manning firearms and performing similar defensive duties were given a reduced pay of five l i v r e s per month."'' Not only the old and lame found opportunity for defensive m i l i t a r y service but frequently an urban m i l i t i a was formed of those untrained for m i l i t a r y service but anxious to help protect t h e i r i property and goods. The Huguenots of Bordeaux addressed a remonstrance to the c i t y council i n which they expressed their desire to pledge themselves for service in a municipal m i l i t i a rather than entrust the defence of their c i t y to foreign troops. Soon after the outbreak of war Antoine de Bourbon,,lieutenant- general of the kingdom, addressed to the prevot des marchands and to the echevins of the c i t y of Paris instructions regarding measures to be taken for the constitution of a municipal m i l i t i a . The t o t a l number of troops i n Guyenne fluctuated greatly but i t may be estimated with reference to a number of sources. In 1559 the statement of payment of soldiers i n garrisons 4 enumerated one thousand ninety i n Guyenne. The companies of ordonnance are not mentioned in. that document and the only garrison l i s t e d for Bordeaux was forty men under captain B a i l l a c ( s i c ) i n the chSteau Trampette although the payment of Noailles Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 6 4 7 . Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 84. Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV, 3 9 8 . L o t , Recherches sur les E f f e c t i f s , p. 254. 85 and his lieutenant i s l i s t e d . Four years l a t e r N o a i l l e s ' garrison at the Chateau du Ha was twice the size of de. V a i l l a c ' s rt- • and i t may well have been so i n 1559** From August to October, 1562 Charles urged Burie to bring into France reinforcements from Guyenne. At the end of October Burie wrote that the king had asked him to lead three thousand Spanish and two thousand French 2 hommes de p i e d . However, he claimed that i t was very d i f f i c u l t to make the Spaniards march. Burie had already had an experience with mutiny among the Spanish troops i n which four or five hundred of the f i r s t had deserted their enseignes and made t h e i r way back towards Spain without a captain, an enseigne or a 3 drummer. Now he wrote that of eleven or twelve enseignes, about three thousand men, he had led from Gascony only about fourteen or f i f t e e n hundred remained, a number which would shortly be r e - organized into six enseignes. In addition to the forces under Burie, de Terride and Monluc had troops at Montauban where they were besieging the c i t y . The Spaniards and the companies of Charry were led into France by Louis Prevot de Sansac because Burie's attention was demanded by the uprisings "in his gouvernement. These troops were augmented substantially by men of the Huguenot *Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 199. 2 Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 71. 5 I b i d . , No. 61. 86 army who changed sides after the battle of Vergt."'' Monluc stated that Sansac led twenty-three enseignes of Spanish and French to the aid of the king, a force of about five thousand men. A statement for the payment'of gens de guerre a pied i n the garrisons of c i t i e s and chSteaux of Guyenne i n March 1563 showed one thousand four hundred men to be p a i d . Recruitment and Appointments The recruitment of a l l types of troops was dependent upon the r o y a l w i l l and the execution of that w i l l i n the province was under the authority of the governor and lieutenant-general, the king's personal representative. In Guyenne a second person shared the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y of the lieutenant-general; Monluc exercised equal authority with B u r i e . When Conde f a i l e d to accept the commission to go into Guyenne and pacify the province, Blaise de Monluc had been sent without a definite t i t l e but with a definite mission."^ At that time he and Burie commanded companies of ordonnance of equal s i z e , received equal stipends, were both sent commissions for the r a i s i n g of troops. It was not u n t i l early i n March 1563 that Monluc received word of his appointment as lieutenant-general with authority, l i k e Burie, over half the Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , I I I , 53, 5^. 2 I b i d . , IV, 199. ^Monluc, Commentaires, I I , kOO. 8? province,* nevertheless he had styled himself at least a month e a r l i e r as "seigneur du dit l i e u (Agenois), c h e v a l l i e r de l ' o r d r e , cappitaine de cinquante hommes d*armes de ses ordonnances, et 2 lieutenant de sa Majeste au gouvernement de Guienne." Whether or not he had the t i t l e , Monluc occupied a position and exercised a r e s p o n s i b i l i t y equivalent to those of Burie, the lieutenant- general i n the absence of the king of Navarre. The office exercised by the two veteran captains of campaigns i n Italy was primarily a m i l i t a r y o f f i c e . Some have held that i t was h i s t o r i c a l l y an office exclusively m i l i t a r y and, therefore, confined to the f r o n t i e r provinces and that the office spread to other provinces during the Wars of Religion because every province became a frontier i n a period of c i v i l w a r . 5 Z e l l e r i d e n t i f i e d the o r i g i n of these ideas i n the writings of members of the sixteen th century Parlements, writers who had a r i v a l ' s interest i n de-emphasizing the administrative role of •the governors. Only occasionally did the Parlement of Bordeaux venture into m i l i t a r y matters. On one, such occasion i t seconded the lieutenant's judgment and requested the king to leave Burie Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , I I I , 66. 2 I b i d . , IV, 190. 5 Z e l l e r , "Gouverneurs...," p. 231. Z e l l e r attributes t h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n to such notable historians as Paul V i o l l e t and Gustave Dupont-Ferrier.. 4 • Ibid'.., pp. 251-256. 88 and the three thousand Spaniards i n Guyenne."'" Following the Peace of Amboise the Parlement disagreed with Monluc and recommended to the king t o t a l disarmament. In t h i s m i l i t a r y matter the king was i n c l i n e d toward the decision of the Parlement but allowed his lieutenant to exercise his own judgment as to how 2 many troops he regarded as indispensable. The governor and lieutenant-general was the supreme m i l i t a r y authority within the province. Since the lieutenant-general commanded m i l i t a r y forces i n the province he was i n a position to dispense a considerable amount of patronage, a practice over which the king desired to maintain c o n t r o l . In his choice of captains for the companies he l e v i e d , . the lieutenant-general could offer incentives to l o c a l notables for the pay accompanying the office was considerable and the o f f i c e offered further opportunity for honour and enrichment. At the same time he could increase he own influence by appointing men l o y a l to him or by gaining the l o y a l t y of men through t h i s patronage. Thus some of the f i r s t troops raised by Monluc were placed under the command of Francois de Gassagnet de T i l l a d e t , seigneur de Saint-Orens et de l a Roque, sene"chal de Bazadois, who had f i r s t borne arms under Monluc i n I t a l y . The fortunes of Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV, 299. "Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 216 and.n. 89 T i l l a d e t continued to be t i e d to those of his mentor and i n 1 5 6 7 under a commission from Monluc he became colonel of the legions of Guyenne. The next year Monluc claimed for him the c o l l a r of the order as recompense for his services and in 1 5 7 5 he was mait.ce de camp i n the army of Monluc, marechal of France."'' Immediately after the f a l l of Orleans to Conde i n A p r i l 1 5 6 2 , Charles IX wrote Monluc asking him to come immediately with his own company, those of the king of Navarre and the mare'chal de Thermes, and s i x companies of gens de pied which he must r a i s e . Monluc quoted Charles as saying, "I am sending you the commissions, leaving the names of the captains blank, for you know better than 2 I who deserve i t . " Monluc l e f t Bordeaux for Agen and there assigned the s i x commissions to captains of his choice: two to Charry; two to Hugues de Bazordan, seigneur de Thermes; one to ' 3 the baron de Clermont, his own nephew; one to the captain Corne. The troops were recruited by their captains from among l o y a l men of t h e i r own region and the captains were appointed by Monluc from the ranks of men l o y a l to him. Therefore, the forces recruited and deployed i n Guyenne took on the aspect of a personal army, strongly l o y a l to Blaise de Monluc. Families frequently benefited through the influence of Monluc, Commentaires et Lettres, II, 348 and n. Monluc, Commentaires, I I , 3 3 9 - 3 4 0 . 'ibid., II, 4 4 1 . http://mait.ce 90 their more i l l u s t r i o u s members. Blaise de Monluc's r i s e had been f a c i l i t a t e d more than once by his older brother Jean de Monluc, bishop of Valence. Both Jean and B l a i s e , i n turn, 2 sponsored t h e i r younger brother Joachim, sieur de Lioux. Blaise de Monluc1s second, t h i r d and fourth sons, Pierre-Bertrand c a l l e d Peyrot; Jean, chevalier de Malte; and Fabien, were a l l associated with t h e i r father i n m i l i t a r y matters. In 1560 captain Peyrot was sent from the court by the due de Guise with a message for his 3 father. When the Peace of Amboise was announced he was leading into France twelve companies of gens de pied and one of chevaux- l e g e r s . Philippe de La Roche, baron de Fontenilhes, was Blaise de Monluc's son-in-law and also guidon of his company.5 Member- ship i n the family and leadership i n the company were i n t e r r e l a t e d and Monluc had great confidence i n his son-in-law who played an important role i n the f i e l d e s p e c i a l l y at Vergt.^ The Monluc family was not unique i n the practice of nepotism and i t i s not s u r p r i s i n g that the lieutenant of Burie's company was his nephew 7 Corre. Nepotism had much to recommend i t as a useful practice *Monluc, Comrnentaires, I, 133. 2 I b i d • , I I , 21 and Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, I 6 9 . 3 Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , 3,98. 4 5 I b i d . , I I , 592. ^ I b i d . , I I , 415. 6 I b i d . , I I , 546-562. 7 I b i d . , I i , 4?4. 91 i n m i l i t a r y organization f o r , provided the r e l a t i v e appointed was a competent person, the l i k e l i h o o d of greater co-operation contributed to improved service for the monarch. That the king exercised some control over appointments was demonstrated by his refusal to grant a company of ordonnance to Joachim de Monluc i n spite of his brother's lobbying and by the refusal to grant Monluc's request that Peyrot's company of chevaux-legers be converted into a company of ordonnance. The appointment of a group of noble counsellors chosen by the king to accompany a great noble on a mission was intended to increase the effectiveness of his mission. Trnas- when Montpensier was sent into Guyenne the king's council decided that he should be accompanied by the seigneurs de La Vauguyon, de Candale and de Chavigny.""" When he arrived i n Guyenne these three lords were 2 with him and also the seigneurs d'Estissac and de Lauzun. Jean de Peyrusse, sieur d'Escars, comte de La Vauguyon was a member of a family i n good favour with Antoine de Bourbon. Henri de F o i x , comte de Candale, was the lieutenant of Belzunce who was governor of Dax.^ Francois Le Roy, seigneur de Chavigny et de l a Baussoniere, comte de Clinchamp, was to become lieutenant-general of Anjou, Touraine and Maine and governor of Mans i n 1564. The "̂Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 48. 2 Monluc, Commentaires, I I , 538. ^Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 200n. 4 Monluc, Commentaires, I I , 538. 92 important o f f i c e of lieutenant-general i n Poitou was held by Louis Madaillan d'Estissac 1 and Francois Ier Nompar de Caumont, seigneur de Lauzun was lieutenant for the king of the chateaux, • 2 c i t y , and comte of Blaye. A l l five were prominent nobles who contributed to the dignity and authority of Montpensier's commission. The king not only saw that Montpensier was accompanied by a council of nobles on his mission into Guyenne but he attempted to send proven nobles in;to the province at other times to encourage his o f f i c e r s and increase the support of the noblesse. Thus i n May, 1562 Charles promised Monluc and Burie that he would send into Guyenne for t h e i r assistance Biron, d'Ossun, Candale and N e g r e p e l i s s e . 5 These men were sent from the court to the province because as men of prominent families i n Guyenne, they had gone to the court seeking appointment and honours. In t h e i r a c t i v i t i e s within the province they'showed l i t t l e hesitation i n co-operating with Monluc as did Candale i n the formation of Catholic leagues. The r a i s i n g of troops was undertaken l o c a l l y as the Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , ,538. . 2 I b i d . , I I , 205. 5 R u b l e , Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 441. Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 214. 93 appointment of commanders for them often was. In theory, the king maintained the ultimate control since he issued l e t t e r s patent and commissions and on the occasions when he had not authorized the levy or the appointment before the f a c t , his confirmation was given after the f a c t . Also i n theory, control of the purse strings by the king ensured his authority over m i l i t a r y and administrative a f f a i r s . However, l o c a l authorities found many opportunities to manipulate royal funds, to augment them from the s p o i l s of war, and to use them for personal gain. E f f e c t i v e r o y a l control over a f f a i r s i n a disrupted and distant province was impossible to maintain. Command As i n other aspects of authority m i l i t a r y command was c e n t r a l i z e d , i n theory. In practice the central command depended on l o c a l response for i t s effectiveness. As lieutenant-general of the kingdom, Antoine de Bourbonvwas supreme commander. The three Triumvirs were among his high o f f i c e r s : the constable was Antoine*s lieutenant; the due de Guise, chief of the avant-garde; the marechal Saint-Andre, chief of the a r r i e r e - g a r d e T h e royal army they commanded consisted of t h i r t y thousand men, i n camp or 2 promised. Three thousand German lansquenets, fourteen enseignes Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV, 2 3 5 . 2 I b i d . , IV, 2 8 7 . 94 of Swiss and at least three thousand Spanish troops were included i n that number. These foreign troops i l l u s t r a t e the difference between an army on paper and an army i n the f i e l d . The three thousand Germans represented half the number i n i t i a l l y anticipated by Antoine who decided to settle for three thousand "now" rather than s i x thousand "sometime." The r e i t e r s arrived at the end of J u l y , 1562 and, after hearing from Conde, most of them changed sides and put themselves i n the service of the Huguenots.* The Spanish troops entered Guyenne i n September but were detained i n 2 that gouvernement by Burie and Monluc. Burie found them d i f f i c u l t to handle and the fact that they were unpaid contributed to their d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n . About five hundred mutinied and Monluc's s k i l l was required to pacify them. 5 At Vergt the wily Gascon commander 4 exploited the r i v a l r y between Spanish and Gascon. Of a l l the foreign troops expected only the Swiss .took the f i e l d r e l i a b l y as a n t i c i p a t e d . Forces from within the kingdom were likewise d i f f i c u l t to deploy through a centralized command. From August, 1562 the king, the queen and the lieutenant-general of the kingdom commanded Burie to lead from Guyenne into France both the Spanish companies I b i d . Documents Pour Servir a . . . , Nos. 59, 61. Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 6l. Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , 554-557. 95 and troops raised in Guyenne."'" Repeated l e t t e r s and even a personal messenger, the seigneur de Malicorne, lieutenant of Randan's company, drew no immediate response i n terms of conduct- 2 ing the troops to join with the r o y a l army. Both l o c a l concerns and l o c a l independence postponed the active response to that request. In November the gens de pied under, Jacques Prevost, seigneur de Charry and some of the Spaniards were f i n a l l y led into France by Louis Prevost, seigneur de Sansac, governor of Angoumois. The pre-eminent role of the lieutenant-general i n m i l i t a r y a f f a i r s of the gouvernement was advantageous i f he was a f o r c e f u l person and a competent commander* When authority was divided or the lieutenant-general was ineffectual the fact that he had t h e o r e t i c a l authority was no advantage to the m i l i t a r y cause i n the gouvernement. The r i v a l r y of Burie and Monluc had few serious repercussions for the f o r c e f u l Monluc was a more energetic person and a more able commander. Either they served i n different parts of the province or Monluc managed to get his own way by manipulating Burie or b u l l y i n g him. Rivalry i n Provence had much more serious r e s u l t s . The governor was Claude de Savoie, comte de Tende, nephew of the constable Montmorency. His son Honore de Savoie, comte de Sommerive, was lieutenant. The l a t t e r embraced 1 r b i d . , I I , 514 and n. 2 \ Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 59* •̂ Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 77 • 96 the party of the Guises while his father was very moderate. The son raised troops i n the king's name i n spite of his father's opposition and eventually the moderate father was maneuvered into the Huguenot camp.* The tragedy lay i n the fact that both father and sori'made war, p i l l a g i n g successively the same towns, both i n the king's name. The armies engaged i n battle i n the provinces of the west and southwest of France were predominantly l o c a l l y - r a i s e d troops commanded by royal o f f i c e r s of l o c a l o r i g i n . As a result they demonstrated strong regional l o y a l t i e s and were frequently reluctant to fight beyond the l i m i t s of their own provinces. Both o f f i c e r s and men preferred to remain i n their home t e r r i t o r y although on which side they fought seems to have been of second- ary importance for many. The fact that the lieutenant-general i n large measure chose the captains and recruited the troops had the advantage that a strong personal l o y a l t y to the l o c a l commander tended to unify the troops. The Gascon n o b i l i t y c e r t a i n l y united behind Monluc and expressed t h e i r confidence i n p him i n A p r i l , 1562 as the c i v i l war was just beginning. The noblesse of Guyenne were convinced that the acceptance of the new r e l i g i o n meant the overthrow of the accepted s o c i a l order and they found evidence to strengthen their conviction i n the *Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, I, 304. 2 Monluc, Comrnentaires, II, kkl. 97 assassination of the baron de Fumel by his own peasants, one'of the f i r s t events of the s t r i f e i n Guyenne."'" Refusal to pay the t a i l l e s to their secular lords was a small step for those Huguenots who had refused the payment of dimes to the Roman Catholic Church. The noblesse feared that their f i n a n c i a l and s o c i a l position and even t h e i r l i v e s were threatened by the Reform, a fear that was heightened as most of the men of finances of Guyenne joined the Reform and many of the o f f i c e r s of justice of the Parlements and 2 senechaussees. The Reform i t s e l f had a d i s t i n c t l y l o c a l character because of the nature of i t s organization and leader- s h i p . In i t s struggles the s p i r i t of p r o v i n c i a l resistance was reborn so that i n the Bordelais region the revolt of the gabelle was evoked.^ It was to be expected that the noblesse would seek i n the king's lieutenant-general t h e i r champion. He was one of them and to a c l a s s , l a r g e l y m i l i t a r y , his renown as a m i l i t a r y leader was important. Monluc, on his side, was not reluctant to court the noblesse for he was sure that the crown would have to lean increasingly on the n o b i l i t y and to be t h e i r chosen leader k could only strengthen his p o s i t i o n . During the f i r s t War of Religion Blaise de Monluc was by """Ibid., I I , 400; Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 156. 2 Monluc, Commentaires, I I , 395. ^Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, pp. 161-162. Sbid., pp. 164, 167-168. 98 far the most important m i l i t a r y figure i n Guyenne. He possessed a high degree of independence i n the exercise of m i l i t a r y a f f a i r s . He r e c r u i t e d men, appointed o f f i c e r s and even imposed taxes for the expense of the army.* Many s o l d i e r s were available and w i l l i n g to f i g h t , seemingly with l i t t l e concern about which side engaged their s e r v i c e s . ? This fact raises a serious question about . tvhe contention that the Huguenot army was merely the congregation of the f a i t h f u l under arms. While the synodal organization of the Protestant Churches may have provided the skeleton of the Huguenot army, much of the flesh on that m i l i t a r y body must have come not from the congregations but from the ranks of professional s o l d i e r s seeking employment. That s i t u a t i o n i s i n accord with Romier's observation that, the many soldiers and captains from the I t a l i a n WarB could not. be threatened with the loss of their regular employment without p r e c i p i t a t i n g great d i s o r d e r . . . . On the other hand the economic and s o c i a l condition created by c o s t l y external wars must resolve i t s e l f i n an explosion of anarchy.^ The c o n f l i c t i n Guyenne was greatly magnified by the presence of many veteran soldiers who knew no other career and who found i n c i v i l war the employment they had l o s t with the cessation of h o s t i l i t i e s after the Peace of Cateau-Cambresis i n 1559» Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I I , 420. C f . discussion i n the next chapter. 2 Lucien Romier, Les Origines Politiques des Guerres de Religion (Paris: P e r r i n , 1914), pp. 235-23o\ CHAPTER IV FINANCE AND ROYAL AUTHORITY C o n t i n u a l war p l a c e d a heavy f i n a n c i a l burden upon the kingdom d u r i n g the s i x t e e n t h c e n t u r y . No sooner had the expense of f o r e i g n wars been removed than the expense of c i v i l war r e p l a c e d i t as a d r a i n upon the budget. These expenses l e n t impetus to f i n a n c i a l reforms and gave r i s e to new f i n a n c i a l expedients throughout the course of the century but i n s p i t e of reform and expedient the r o y a l budget was always i n the r e d . F r e q u e n t l y the k i n g was unable to meet h i s commitments, c r e d i t o r s went unpaid and e x t e n s i v e loans were r e - f i n a n c e d at higher i n t e r e s t . The most dramatic attempt to c o n s o l i d a t e the r o y a l debt was the Grand P a r t i of 1555» an attempt to s y s t e m a t i c a l l y r e t i r e the debt over a p e r i o d of only ten y e a r s . C r e d i t o r s were to be p a i d four times y e a r l y from revenues of the r e c e i p t s general of Lyon, Toulouse and M o n t p e l l i e r with i n t e r e s t at 5% per term or, 20% a n n u a l l y . In p r a c t i c e , payments remained i n a r r e a r s and f u r t h e r loans were c o n t r a c t e d . Many of these were i n c o r p o r a t e d i n t o the Grand P a r t i so that by 1559 with other loans i t r e p r e s e n t e d a debt of more than 16,500,000 l i v r e s with annual i n t e r e s t of 3,200,000 l i v r e s . 1 The f i n a n c i a l f a i l u r e of the French monarchy was postponed Roland Mousnier, Etudes sur l a France XVI^ S i e c l e , 2 p t i e , ( P a r i s : Centre de Documentation U n i v e r s i t a i r e , 1959), p. 338. 100 a year or two after that of the Spanish monarchy * but i t was 2 hastened by the sudden death of Henry II i n 1 5 5 9 . Although the royal debts were very quickly acknowledged by his successor, Francis I I , the confidence of bankers who had extended far too much credit and had recently experienced the f i n a n c i a l collapse of Spain, was shaken by the succession of a boy to the throne. Therefore, at the outset of the c i v i l wars the a b i l i t y of the monarch to raise large sums from international bankers was seriously c u r t a i l e d and f i n a n c i a l problems were to plague the monarchy constantly and to hamper i t s m i l i t a r y e f f o r t s as i t attempted to combat the challenge of r e l i g i o u s d i v i s i o n and c i v i l war. In time, of war, when the outcome depended upon the exploits of the royal troops i t was most important that t h e i r l o y a l t y and service be assured. Therefore, the extent to which the troops remained unpaid should serve as a reasonable index of the f i n a n c i a l d i f f i c u l t i e s of the monarchy. .It i s an index r e l a t i v e l y easy to examine because the governors and lieutenants-general, responsible for the command of the troops and the maintenance of garrisons within their gouvernements, were greatly concerned about the payment of t h e i r soldiers and that problem became a. regular 1 I b i d . , pp. 335-338. 2 For the c r i s i s of that year seeHenri Hauser, "The European F i n a n c i a l C r i s i s of 1559*" Journal of Economic and Business History, II, 2 (February, 1930), 241-255- 101 theme i n t h e i r l e t t e r s to Charles. IX and to Catherine de Medicis. The constant pleas of governors that t h e i r troops be paid probably did not arise primarily from any humanitarian concern for t h e i r soldiers but from the p r a c t i c a l r e a l i z a t i o n that unpaid troops were d i s s a t i s f i e d troops and i t was a small step from d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n to d i s l o y a l t y . Even at the time of r e c r u i t i n g , the necessary resources were not always provided. D'Escars, following the king's orders, raised a company of t h i r t y arque- busiers for Savignac for which provision was not made so Burie met the expenses personally and asked reimbursement thereafter."*" Burie asked money for a montre i n January, 1562 recognizing that i t would be necessary to maintain four or five hundred gens d'armes 2 i n the Agenais a l l summer. Montpensier wrote from P o i t i e r s that the troops were forced to p i l l a g e or starve and he asked permission to impose a levy on the inhabitants of the city."^ In August, 1562 Burie was begging the king for the solde for his company and i n December he was s t i l l asking.^ The men l e f t i n garrison by the due de Montpensier had, not been paid by him and Burie did not dare decree a tax to raise their solde without the king's authorization, Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 426. "Burie au r o i , " 28 septembre,, 1561. 2 I b i d . , I, 427. "Burie au r o i , " 28 septembre, 156I. Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 54. 4 Ruble, op. c i t . , I, 451. "Burie au r o i , " 29 aout, 1562. ^ I b i d . , I, 466. "Burie au r o i , " 14 decembre, 1562. 102 e s p e c i a l l y since i t amounted to twenty thousand l i v r e s per month. At the same time the baron de Jarnac reminded Catherine that the soldiers needed for the.defence of La Rochelle had to be paid or they would turn to sack and p i l l a g e . * His request arrived almost simultaneously with a l e t t e r from La Rochelle, written by Burie, s t a t i n g that Monpensier had l e f t troops there without providing 2 for their payment. . The s i t u a t i o n was so dire according to Jarnac, governor of La Rochelle that men of his company who had received no money for a year had been forced to leave for t h e i r homes penniless after having eaten t h e i r horses i n the g a r r i s o n . 5 Pay had been scarce for the s i x companies of gens d'armes raised by Monluc and for his own company of chevaux-legers. Since they hadn't been paid for over four months, the r e a l i s t i c Monluc wondered i f they could be given two months' pay before they were disbanded. At the same time he pointed out that the company in garrison at Mont de Marsan and those i n Bordeaux had received nothing for more than eight months and the mortes-payes had been unpaid for a year. If any funds reached the troops, they were inadequate for Monluc indicated that Peyrot's chevaux-legers had 5 received only one thousand l i v r e s i n six months. At the normal ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 79 • 2 I b i d . , No. 80. 5 I b i d . , No. 79. Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 286-290. "Monluc a l a royne pour les a f f a i r e s de Guyenne," octobre ou novembre, 1563. 5 I b i d . , IV, 291. 1 0 3 pay of twenty l i v r e s per month * twelve times as much money would have been required to pay the company excluding i t s o f f i c e r s . Ransom demands for prisoners prolonged the c i v i l wars i n Monluc's view, however, he could not forbid the practice because "neither 2 gendarme nor soldier was p a i d . " The problem of maintaining unpaid troops was not eliminated by disbanding them for men accustomed to earning their l i v i n g by their arms would probably continue doing so and were not l i k e l y to view t h e i r employers with a theologically or p o l i t i c a l l y c r i t i c a l eye. D'Etampes expressed concern over the order to demobilize some troops saying that to do so would weaken him and strengthen his enemies "for such men go where the money i s . " 5 That men should change sides to increase the l i k e l i h o o d of being paid i s not s u r p r i s i n g for they changed on occasion for other reasons. After the defeat of Duras at Vergt, Monluc recruited from the defeated army s i x companies of gens de pied with two purposes i n mind: to diminish the enemy and to f i l l his own ranks with needed troops. The effects were at times as devastating i f unpaid s o l d i e r s did not desert but merely resorted to l o o t i n g and robbery; a l l i e s could do as much damage to c i t i z e n s and t h e i r Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 6 V + . Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , 4 7 8 - * + 7 9 . Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 3 8 . 104 c i t i e s as could enemies."'" The baron de Jarnac feared such c o n f l i c t between s o l d i e r s and inhabitants i n La Rochelle i f the men remained longer unpaid. Looting and robbery would lead to great scandal and he urged Catherine to avoid them by finding 2 the means to pay the troops. The f i n a n c i a l system at the beginning of the century lent i t s e l f to control by an oligarchy of f i n a n c i a l o f f i c e r s . Only the revenues of the Domain were centralized under the Changeur du Trgsor and the revenues from taxes were handled by nine receipts general.^ There was no unified accounting for a l l revenues and 4 the system for effecting payment was often extremely complicated. Thus i t was extremely d i f f i c u l t to co-ordinate f i n a n c i a l matters, to determine resources available or to devise means of supplement- ing resources. Francis I introduced reforms i n 1523 which c e n t r a l - ized and s i m p l i f i e d the f i n a n c i a l system by establishing two central agencies, the Tresorier de l'Epargne and the Tresorier des Parties casuelles, the f i r s t of which became the major agency of c e n t r a l i z a t i o n . As the pressure of f i s c a l operations on the Tresorier de 1'Epargne.mounted, i t was relieved by a return to e a r l i e r p r a c t i c e s . The accounting remained centralized i n his """Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 79. 2 Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 76. "^Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 597. 4 Mousnier, Etudes sur l a France au X V I e S i S c l e , pp. 282-284. 105 hands but the administration of funds was decentralized to some degree under the l o c a l recettes generaux as funds were increas- 1 ingly spent l o c a l l y . 1 Revenues were c l a s s i f i e d as ordinary and extraordinary and early i n the century only domainal revenues were considered ordinary. Taxes of a l l kinds were classed as extraordinary since they had originated as temporary expedients in. times of f i n a n c i a l pressure such as the Hundred Years' War. They were to become i n the course of the century c l a s s i f i e d as ordinary i n contrast to new expedients developed to meet the f i n a n c i a l demands of the time. Like the administration of the armed forces the supporting f i n a n c i a l resources were divided into the receipts of 1'ordinaire' 2 des guerres and the receipts of 1'extraordinaire des guerres. The former consisted of the t a i l l e and t a i l l o n sent by receveurs generaux and receveurs du t a i l l o n to the two t r e s o r i e r s de 1'ordin- aire des guerres. The funds were then sent to the payeurs des compagnies de gendarmes responsible for paying the troops. Doucet observes that the t a i l l e and the t a i l l o n had both been considered h i s t o r i c a l l y as extraordinary taxes and were only Mousnier, Etudes sur l a France au XVI e S i e c l e , p. 334. Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 648-649. 106 classed as ordinary resources i n r e l a t i o n to those which supplied the extraordinaire des guerres.* Funds for the finances extra- ordinaire were drawn from the Epargne i n the form of mandates carrying receipts addressed to the recettes generales. The, funds were then distributed to the soldiers by payeurs des compagnies as i n the case of the finances ordinaires. When Montpensier was sent into Guyenne he asked for a clerk of the t r e s o r i e r de 1'extraordinaire des guerres supplied with receipts and signed blanks to serve for discharge to the receveurs 2 from whom money would be taken. The royal council informed him that one hundred•thousand l i v r e s had been assigned by the tre'sorier de l'Epargne for the m i l i t a r y needs of Burie and Monluc. He was instructed to ascertain how much had been spent and to make his needs known from the f i e l d when he knew them s p e c i f i c a l l y . No one was going to receive from the royal treasury a single sou u n t i l well after he needed i t and, i n case the need should become too pressing, the due de Montpensier could take the plate from the churches, an unpopular a c t i v i t y for which the council was always ready to grant authority. The annual revenues of the crown at the beginning of the Wars of Religion amounted to about 16,000,000 l i v r e s , three- Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , II, 6 4 8 n . Documents Pour Servir a..., No. 4 8 . 107 quarters from revenus ordinaires and one-quarter from revenus extraordinaires. Of the revenus ordinaires about 6,000,000 l i v r e s was derived from the t a i l l e s and crues, 2,700,000 from the aides and the gabelles, and 3,500,000 from the domain. D^cimes, g i f t s , forced loans, and the sale of offices contributed to the revenus extraordinaires."*" Mousnier maintains that the people of France could well have paid higher taxes but that taxes were not raised because of the way i n which they were viewed rather than because of any i n a b i l i t y to pay. The tax was considered as something abnormal by the sixteenth century mind for the king should l i v e on the proceeds of his domain. There- fore, the crown sought other expedients for meeting i t s expenses. After the credit i n f l a t i o n of 1559, the French court, unable to obtain the needed financing on the open market.in such banking centres as Lyon, appealed to the pope, to the king of Spain and, not l e a s t , to the-people of France for g i f t s and loans. Many loans were forced, e s p e c i a l l y i f a man were so indiscreet as to l e t i t be known that he had money a v a i l a b l e . The c a r d i n a l de F e r r a r e , for example, l e t i t be known that he was planning to send 2,000 ecus to F a b r i c i o S e r b e l l o n i , the pope's nephew at Avignon. He found himself approached by the Mousnier, E t u d e s sur l a France au XVI e S i e c l e , p. 325. 2 I b i d . , p. 326 108 queen and the due de Guise who i n s i s t e d that he give t h i s sum to the seigneur de Suze who was being sent into Dauphine by the Triumvirate. In vain did he protest that he did not yet have the money on hand for he was required to pay half immediately and to present a note for the balance.* The gift and loan requested of the pope enabled him to make certain demands upon the French court. Upon the assurance that the king would r e - e s t a b l i s h the Roman Catholic Church, punish the h e r e t i c s , and send the chancellor from the court, the pope agreed to grant a g i f t of 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 ecus 2 and a loan of similar amount. Loans were often raised through the intermediary of municiapl o f f i c i a l s rather than d i r e c t l y from i n d i v i d u a l s . When the c i v i l war entered the stage of decisive operations about the beginning of August, 1 5 6 2 , Catherine c a l l e d the council of the c i t y of Paris and asked for a loan of 2 0 0 , 0 0 0 ecus. It was opened to the inhabitants for subscription with registers i n various parts of the c i t y . The f i r s t name recorded was that of the prevot, Guillaume de Marie, who gave part of his plate and another of the donors was Diane de P o i t i e r s , mistress of the late Henry I I , who brought a g i f t of 1 , 2 2 2 l i v r e s . 5 In June, 1563 the Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV, 1 9 8 . 2 I b i d . , IV, 1 9 9 . 3 I b i d . , IV, 2 9 2 . 109 " e c h e v i n s e t c o n s e i l l e r s de P a r i s ' * w e r e o n c e more r e q u e s t e d b y C h a r l e s t o b o r r o w f r o m t h e i n h a b i t a n t s o f t h e c i t y , t h i s t i m e t o t h e t u n e o f 100,000 l i v r e s . " * " A t t h e l e a s t p r e t e x t money was r a i s e d a n d c h a r g e d a g a i n s t a c i t y . T h u s when t h e c i t y o f B o u r g e s f e l l t o t h e C a t h o l i c a r m y , a c o n t r i b u t i o n o f 50,000 e c u s was r e q u i r e d f o r t h e e x p e n s e s o f t h e w a r . The amount was l a t e r r e d u c e d t o 20,000 e c u s t o be r a i s e d by a t a x on t h e r e f o r m e d 2 i n h a b i t a n t s . A l s o c a l c u l a t e d t o d e f r a y s l i g h t l y t h e c o s t o f m i l i t a r y e n d e a v o u r s were t h e t e r m s o f f e r e d t h e c i t y o f R o u e n b e f o r e i t s f a l l . T h a t c i t y was r e q u i r e d t o p a y 80,000 l i v r e s t o r a n s o m i t s e l f f r o m p i l l a g e . " ^ I n h i s a d d r e s s "A M o n s e i g n e u r " a t t h e b e g i n n i n g o f h i s C o m m e n t a i r e s , M o n l u c d i r e c t e d t o t h e due d ' A n j o u a p e r s o n a l d e f e n c e i n w h i c h he r e p u d i a t e d t h e c h a r g e t h a t he h a d a c c u m u l a t e d a g r e a t f o r t u n e . He s t a t e d t h a t he l i v e d on h i s s t i p e n d a n d 4 l o a n e d a n y e x t r a c a p i t a l o u t a t i n t e r e s t . A t a t i m e when f o r c e d l o a n s w e r e t h e o r d e r o f t h e d a y a man was e x p e c t e d t o h a v e h i s m o n e y , a n d p r o b a b l y h i s p l a t e , l o a n e d f o r t h e k i n g ' s s e r v i c e . The t o n e o f M o n l u c ' s w r i t i n g s u g g e s t e d t h a t t o h a v e t o o much c a s h on h a n d when t h e m o n a r c h was i n d i r e n e e d was c o n s i d e r e d t a n t a m o u n t D o c u m e n t s P o u r S e r v i r a . . . . N o . 1 0 3 . *T":uble, A n t o i n e de B o u r b o n , I V , 310. 3 I b i d . , I V , 3^6. 4 M o n l u c , C o m m e n t a i r e s , I, 14-19. 110 to treason One of the most basic expedients to supplement the resources of the monarch was the attempt to find someone else to foot the b i l l for at least part of the m i l i t a r y e f f o r t . This was accomplish- ed by making c i t i e s responsible for the payment of troops garrisoned i n them, a practice reinforced by r o y a l policy i n 1562. In May Charles IX wrote Negrepelisse requesting him to raise four companies of gens de pied at Toulouse to be maintained at the expense of the c i t y and for i t s safety.* The execution of t h i s policy was supervised by the king's council for Montpensier stated that the council had resolved that the people of Chinon and Loudun would have two hundred hommes de pied and one hundred arquebusiers a cheval for the defence of the c i t i e s , chateaux and pais d'election of the region, two-rthirds of the expense to be borne by Loudun and one-third by Chinon. These regions, however, had not obtained 2 commissions to raise the required taxes. The troops, presumably, remained unpaid. Monluc's adjustment of the size and composition of the garrison at Lectoure was approved by the king provided that garrison was paid at the expense of the c i t y and of the neighbour- ing v i l l a g e s "suyvant l a permission et octroy que j'ay f a i c t expedier aux habitanz d ' i c e l l e pour asseoir et imposer sur eulx Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 17. Documents Pour Servir a . . . . , No. 76. I l l les sommes de deniers qui seront necessaires pour l e d i c t pavement." After the Battle of Vergt when Burie took most of the forces from Guyenne to go into Saintonge, Monluc made use of three companies from Comminges which cost the king nothing for they were paid by 2 the bishops and the region. That the policy of l o c a l r e s p o n s i b i l i t y for payment of the troops was a newly enforced p o l i c y during the f i r s t War of Religion i s indicated by the l e t t e r of Guy Chabot de Jarnac to the queen i n which he complained of the d i f f i c u l t y i n governing because of the changing of ordonnances^ a l e t t e r written within a few weeks of Montpensier's statement that La Rochelle was strongly opposed to supporting a garrison. The inhabitants of some regions demonstrated that they were w i l l i n g to spend considerable time and money to avoid the expense of supporting a company i n g a r r i s o n . Montpensier instructed the contrQleur Ruze" to t e l l the king, the queen, and the council that since the king and queen had decided to maintain at the expense of the c i t i e s and surrounding regions the s o l d i e r s necessary for their defence, the due asked that he be sent a commission and authority to impose the sums from which the pay could be taken. He was speaking of La Rochelle where a l l knowledgeable advisors stated at least eleven or twelve hundred I b i d . , No. 7k. Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 170. Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 79. I b i d . , No. 7k. 112 men would have to be maintained and, therefore, the expense would be considerable. The leaders of the c i t y were businessmen prepared to invest a l o t of money to avoid paying for the garrison and Montpensier discovered that they had sent the elu and some others to the court bearing four or five thousand ecus and means of obtaining more to give to those i n a position to help them i n what they sought.* Whether they planned to approach Florimond de Robertet, sieur de Fresne, the secretary of state within whose departement the region l a y , i s not known. What i s known i s that they intended not merely to ask that they be r e l i e v e d of the garrison but to offer some incentive to those able to influence the d e c i s i o n . P a r t i c u l a r extraordinary taxes were used as another expedient i n the attempt to meet the f i n a n c i a l demands of c i v i l war. Local opposition to such taxes was at times aroused, especially when l o c a l interests were threatened. Catherine was informed by the baron de Jarnac that the interruption of the l i b e r t y of commerce and t r a f f i c of merchandise would destroy La Rochelle for there was nothing i n the region but commerce. It would also result i n a serious diminution of royal revenues. Either s p e c i a l taxes or other r e s t r i c t i o n s were i n t e r f e r i n g with the commerce of the c i t y and the municipal o f f i c i a l s were most concerned about i t , so much ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 7k. ''Instructions du due de Montpensier au contrSleur Ruz6, 12 novembre, 1562, La Rochelle. 113 concerned that they sent a deputation to the governor at Jarnac, his home. Jarnac, the governor, i n turn planned to go to the court on their behalf."'' A spate of l e t t e r s from Burie and from the jurats of Bordeaux to the king and queen late i n 1561 protested against the new tax of one ecu per b a r r e l on wine. Sales of wine to England represented an important part of the economy of the c i t y and English merchants, because of the price increase 2 dictated by the tax, were threatening to buy i n Spain. Nothing s t i r r e d l o c a l sentiments against the crown l i k e an unpopular tax, a fact i l l u s t r a t e d by the revolt of the gabelle i n Guyenne just twelve years e a r l i e r . A f i n a n c i a l expedient f i r s t systematized during the reign of Francis I was the sale of o f f i c e s , a practice which affected adversely royal authority. This practice enabled the king to raise large sums of money on occasion but at very high price for "each time the king sold an o f f i c e , he created a creditor for the 3 state." That i s , i n salary and taxes the crown paid more than i t received. At the Estates-General of Orleans, the Third Estate evaluated the s a l a r i e s of new o f f i c e r s created by Henry II alone at 1,200,000 l i v r e s - t o u r n o i s per year and Mousnier has calculated ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 79. "Tvuble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 425, ^33. •^Mousnier, Etudes sur l a France au XVI e S i e c l e , p. 300. 114 that the king paid 33% interest for the c a p i t a l he received.* Even more serious than the cost was the fact that men who owned their o f f i c e s could be much more independent i n the exercise of them.and thus the king's control over his o f f i c e r s was weakened. The r o y a l o f f i c e r s of Guyenne were among the leaders of the 2 r e b e l l i o n according to Monluc. The venality of offices contributed also to s o c i a l unrest for when the king was unable to meet his commitments for the s a l a r i e s of o f f i c e r s , they took matters into their own hands insofar as they were able and thus abused those under t h e i r authority. Men of the church were t h e o r e t i c a l l y exempt from taxation but i n r e a l i t y they contributed s i g n i f i c a n t l y to the expenses of the k i n g . Decimes were c l a s s i f i e d as free g i f t s to indicate that the clergy was exempt from taxation and was contributing of i t s own free w i l l to the defence of the kingdom.5 Under Henry II the decimes increased i n size and frequency and during the reign of Charles IX they were systematized by the Contract of Poissy i n 1561. In the sixteen years i n which the Contract was if i n effect the clergy contributed 62,400,000 l i v r e s . In f a c t , at the Estates-General of Pontoise i n 1561 only the clergy had 1 I b i d . , p. 300. 2 Monluc, Comrnentaires, IIj 4l6. 5 Mousnier, Etudes sur l a France au X V I e S i e c l e , pp. 323-324. if Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I I , 837. 1 ] - 5 shown i t s e l f w i l l i n g to give any f i n a n c i a l support to the k i n g . The secular estates had proven w i l l i n g to a i r t h e i r grievances and even to threaten the position of the queen mother but unwilling to give anything i n support of the monarch, and by these actions they had condemned the Estates-General to disuse. The clergy, on the other hand, proved useful to the crown and thereby enhanced i t s own position."*" Contributions from the clergy were not only i n the form of dlcimes but i n the sale of the temporal holdings' of the church. For example, i n J u l y , 1 5 6 3 after the Peace of Amboise when r o y a l m i l i t a r y strength was turned to e j e c t i n g the English from Normandy, Charles IX gave instructions to the royal o f f i c e r s 2 decreeing the sale of 1 0 0 , 0 0 0 ecus of the temporel of the church. S i m i l a r l y , as Charles and his advisors looked for resources during the f i r s t War of R e l i g i o n , the silverware of the churches seemed to hold promise as a means of r a i s i n g funds. Governors of the provinces were instructed to take the silverware from the churches 3 to underwrite their m i l i t a r y expenses. Several governors expressed their unwillingness to undertake such an unpopular assignment for while they might be protectors of the church they could see potential danger i n duplicating the Huguenot actions of 1 J . R u s s e l l Major, "The Third Estate i n the Estates-General of Pontoise, 1 5 6 1 , " Speculum, XXIX ( 1 9 5 * 0 , 4 7 6 . Documents Pour Servir a . . . . No. 1 0 8 . ^Documents Pour Servir a t . . . , Nos. 4 3 , 4 8 , 5 1 "for Bretagne, Guyenne and La Rochelle et l ' A u n i s r e s p e c t i v e l y . 116 r a i d i n g the churches, a l b e i t with r o y a l b l e s s i n g . The due d'Etampes suggested that for such a task commissions should be sent to the bishops or the men of j u s t i c e 1 and Jarnac also wished 2 to avoid being d i r e c t l y involved i n such work. The governors and lieutenants desired to dissociate themselves from a p o t e n t i a l l y unpopular royal f i s c a l p o l i c y . The governors and lieutenants-general, as important o f f i c e r s of the crown, were both the r e c i p i e n t s and the d i s t r i b u t o r s of patronage. The king found i t d i f f i c u l t but essential to reward them for their service; d i f f i c u l t because the r o y a l treasury was pressed beyond i t s resources; essential because these m i l i t a r y leaders could be as useful to his enemies as to himself. Local groups such as the municipal leaders i n a major c i t y of a gouvernement found i t desirable to reward the king's lieutenants whom they regarded as their protectors both at the court and against the r e b e l s . Even the Huguenots considered i t worthwhile on occasion to offer substantial sums of money to a lieutenant of the king i n exchange for certain guarantees. The lieutenant- general i n t u r n , was i n a p o s i t i o n to arrange remunerative appointments for his proteges or, at l e a s t , to recommend them to the king as worthy recipients of royal largesse. Documents ,Pour Servir a . . . . No. kj>. Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 51 • 117 High office did not automatically ensure the enrichment of i t s holder, however. In f a c t , the officer often assumed the f i n a n c i a l obligations of his monarch with l i t t l e immediate reward. Fifteen months after the battle of Vergt, Monluc was s t i l l w r i t i n g to the king and queen to ask reimbursement for the 5 , 6 0 0 l i v r e s he had advanced personally i n order to raise the royal companies. By the time of writing he claimed to be out of pocket not only the 5 , 6 0 0 l i v r e s advanced to the t r e s o r i e r de 1'extraordinaire des guerres but a further 3 0 0 ecus.spent t r y i n g to recover the debt. Martiheau, Monluc*s secretary, had been at the court almost five months working on his behalf. In the same l e t t e r the old lieutenant asked for his pension of 2 , 0 0 0 l i v r e s for the previous year, and, concluding the l e t t e r , he referred to a l e t t e r of ten days e a r l i e r i n which he had t o l d Catherine of the i l l n e s s and imminent death of the bishop of Condom and had asked her to remember him i n the appointment. The good bishop had recovered and Monluc relayed this news to the queen.* Later i n the year a new bishop was appointed and Monluc received annually a sum of 5 , 0 0 0 francs from the bishopric for five years u n t i l his t h i r d son, Jean de Monluc, received the 2 o f f i c e . Throughout the period of his command i n Guyenne, Blaise de Monluc complained that his services were not being Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 3 1 5 • Monluc, Comrnentaires, I, 1 7 • 118 recognized with appropriate f i n a n c i a l rewards, a consistent theme with many v a r i a t i o n s . A t y p i c a l example i s found i n the l e t t e r to the queen mother i n which he stated that he had served f a i t h f u l l y for f o r t y - f i v e years and was unable to show that his house was worth one ecu more than in. the beginning. Having l o s t hope of recompense he asked to be allowed to r e t i r e to his home.' Catherine found i t possible to f l a t t e r and mollify him with the granting of periodic honours. The sentiments of Monluc were echoed by other royal o f f i c e r s such as d'Escars who wrote that he had been forced to spend 15. or 16,000 l i v r e s i n ten months as governor of Bordeaux and one more month would see his t o t a l r u i n . That the king's personal representative should assume the king's expenses was expected and accepted by men of the time. The Parlement of Bordeaux decided that Noailles should raise three hundred men 3 p a r t i a l l y at his own expense. The comte de Suze wrote from Avignon that for three months he had commanded sixteen ensigns and about three hundred horse and the only f i n a n c i a l help he had received had been 2,000 ecus given him by the legate when he l e f t the court and 10 or 12,000 francs from the c i t y and region. He had attempted to meet his expenses through loans on his own *Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 306. Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 116. "Le comte d'Escars a Catherine de 'Medicis," 6 septembre, 1563. 3 Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I , kkO. 119 property. The problem facing the monarch was to maintain the l o y a l support of his o f f i c e r s , the lieutenants-general, i n a time when the cash resources upon which he could draw for patronage were stretched to t h e i r l i m i t and beyond. Frequently the lieutenants received from one hand of the king g i f t s which were taken away by the other. The congratulations of the king and queen to Monluc after the battle of Vergt emboldened him to ask the return of revenues from the comte de Gaure granted him by Henry II and 2 taken away be Francis I I . Charles IX r e p l i e d that his i n a b i l i t y to reward the Gascon captain for his worthy service saddened him but the revenues of the comte de Gaure had been reclaimed for the crown i n a general reunion of the domain and to set a precedent by returning them to Monluc would endanger more than one hundred thousand l i v r e s of r e n t e s O f f i c e s , both e c c l e s i a s t i c a l and administrative, were granted to the lieutenants on occasion, not to be exercised d i r e c t l y by them but so that they might enjoy some of the revenues from the office to which they i n turn appointed someone. Monluc enjoyed revenue from the bishopric of Condom and the due d'Etampes wrote Catherine thanking her for the abbey she had given i n his favour and promising to see that """Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 57. 2 1 Courteault, Un Cadet de Gascogne, p. 196. ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 76. 1 2 0 appointments would be made from among l o y a l men.* Burie had been given the office of prevot general of Guyenne, an office which he granted to a man of arms of his company. Burie's man had resigned the office to a man who joined the Huguenots and was taken at Vergt and Burie asked the king to grant the office 2 to the bearer of his l e t t e r , a man he did not name. While Burie may not have received revenue from the office or from i t s sale he was able i n the f i r s t instance to use i t as part of the patronage that was his to grant. The granting of revenues from confiscations and fines was another means used by the king to reward the f a i t h f u l and maintain t h e i r l o y a l t y . Henri de F o i x , comte de Candale, upon returning from a mission to England wrote to the queen of the expenses his o f f i c e r s had been forced to bear i n the protection of his domains. He asked her to authorize a personal guard at expense of the Huguenots or at least of those who had been condemned by the Parlement of Bordeaux. This could be accomplish ed i f Catherine were to regularize the g i f t she had made him of the products of diverse f i n e s . 5 Sometimes the requests reaching the court were more s p e c i f i c l i k e B u r i e ' s l e t t e r containing an indictment against a merchant of Villeneuve d'Agen named Taisses. ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 27. 2 Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 466. Pidce J u s t i f i c a t i v e s , "Burie au r o i , " 14 decembre, 1 5 6 2 . 5 I b i d . , I, 4 5 6 . "Candale a l a r e i n e , " 3 0 septerabre, 1 5 6 2 . 1 2 1 The merchant was imploring pardon but Burie asked that the king condemn him and grant the product of confiscations pronounced against him to Burie himself."*" The motive of the lieutenant- general i n condemning Taisses was c e r t a i n l y open to question. Monluc, too, received the g i f t of a fine from Catherine; i n his case, a long unpaid fine levied against Colineau the receveur du 2 t a i l l o n of the B o r d e l a i s . More than a year l a t e r Monluc was s t i l l t r y i n g to obviate the requirements of the chancellor i n r e l a t i o n to forwarding the money to 11espargne and thence back to Monluc,. The only property held by Colineau was his o f f i c e , worth about f i f t e e n hundred ecus, and pledged to Monluc against the f i n e . The o f f i c e was exercised i n Monluc's name but the funds continued to go to his majesty's service and Monluc was unable to obtain authorization to take his part.'* Confiscations were granted to o f f i c e r s other than lieutenants-general for Charles IX wrote Monluc that he was sending him c e r t i f i c a t e s for the confiscation granted by the king to captain Monluc, his son, and to the seigneur de La Mothe-Rouge. A measure of Catherine's need to keep the f i r s t prince of the blood i d e n t i f i e d with her cause was the g i f t from Charles IX to the.king of Navarre, only two months """Ibid.,"Burie a l a r e i n e , " 6 octobre, 1 5 6 2 . 2 Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 1 5 6 . 3 I b i d . , IV, 2 8 9 . Documents Pour Servir a . . . . . No. 7 6 . 122 before the l a t t e r ' s f a t a l wounding of a l l the confiscations which would be pronounced against the rebels i n the provinces of Antoine and his wife.* The tendency of the crown to reward i t s o f f i c e r s by granting them revenues obtained from fines and confiscations may explain i n part the zeal displayed by Burie for the investigation of such revenues i n order to prevent men 2 of the Parlement from unduly enriching themselves. Pensions granted by the crown rewarded l o y a l service i n a continuing fashion and thus represented a continuing expense i f funds were found to pay them and a continuing cause of d i s s a t i s - faction i f funds were not found. Monluc f i r s t received three thousand francs annually with another two thousand added when Henry II rewarded him with a pension for his exploits i n I t a l y and added the c o l l a r of the order of S a i n t - M i c h e l , and a rente from the r o y a l domain of three thousand francs on the comte de G a u r e . 5 A further pension of three thousand francs from Catherine when she and Charles IX were i n Angouleme brought Monluc's t o t a l it-pension to eight or nine thousand francs. The gages or pay accorded a man were, of course, part of Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV, 4-28. 2 Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 82. 3 ^Monluc, Comrnentaires, I, 17; I I , 192-193. In the i n t r o - duction to his Comrnentaires Monluc maintained that the pension he received from Henry II was 2,000 francs and at the end of l i v r e III he stated that i t was 3,000 francs. Vbid., I, 17. 123 the patronage accompanying the office granted him. The range was extremely broad and was represented at one extreme by Antoine de Bourbon, lieutenant-general of the kingdom, who did not underestimate his own importance i n accepting two thousand five hundred l i v r e s monthly."*" In the camp of the royal army the two marshals of the camp and the colonel general of the infantry received three hundred l i v r e s monthly and the maxtres de camp, 2 two hundred. In the province of Guyenne Burie and Monluc each received five hundred l i v r e s , ^ half what the due de Montpensier was granted when he was sent on a special mission into the province. N o a i l l e s , governor of Bordeaux, and captain of the Chateau du Ha with one hundred men under his command, was paid one hundred l i v r e s per month and the services of his lieutenant 5 were valued at half that amount. The commissaires and contrdleurs who supervised the reviews of the troops each received about t h i r t y - f i v e l i v r e s . ^ The holder of a high non- **"Ruble, Antoine de Bourbon, IV, 235* 2 I b i d . ^Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 200. Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 48. .^Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 199. "Estat de, ce que monte le paiement pour mois entier des gens de guerre a pied qui sont restes en garrison pour le service du r o i es v i l l e s et chasteaux de l a Guyenne," Toulouse, 4 mars, 1562 (I563). The gages of Noailles and his lieutenant had doubled from the statement for 1559 found i n F . ' L o t , Recherches sur les E f f e c t i f s , p. 254. ^Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 201-202. 124 m i l i t a r y o f f i c e , that of f i r s t president i n the sovereign court of the Parlement of Bordeaux, received two hundred l i v r e s per 1 2 month, an income he could undoubtedly augment. The salary of a counsellor of the Parlement of Paris was 600 l i v r e s annually 3 as compared to 375 l i v r e s for the same office i n Bordeaux. Salary and rewards from the crown were by no means the only source of revenue for the king's lieutenants. Major states that ''the p r o v i n c i a l estates l e v i e d taxes to pay royal o f f i c i a l s to convince the king that they were unable to pay the taxes he requested and that t h e i r respective provinces had p r i v i l e g e s 4 that must not be overridden." Although i t i s impossible to ascertain what was expected i n r e t u r n , i t i s clear that the c i t y of Toulouse appreciated Monluc's efforts and offered him g r a t i f i c a t i o n of 500 l i v r e s per month and wished to give him the sequestered property of Pierre d'Assezat, a town councillor charged by the Parlement with the crime of l e s e - M a j e s t l . D'Assezat was acquitted by the king's council and Monluc, therefore, did not 5 receive his property. There were times when representatives of ^Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, II, 114. 2 Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 8 2 . ^Mousnier, Etudes sur l a France au XVI e S i e c l e , p. 301. 4 J . Russell Major, "Crown and Aristocracy i n Renaissance France," p. 643. 5 Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , III, 8 9 ; IV, 198. 125 the Huguenot o r g a n i z a t i o n o f f e r e d f i n a n c i a l inducement to the k i n g ' s l i e u t n e n a n t s i n an attempt to win them over or, at l e a s t , to g a i n t h e i r promise of n e u t r a l i t y . Monluc's account of such an experience was c e r t a i n l y c o l o u r e d to make much of h i s l o y a l t y and honour but p r o b a b l y r e p r e s e n t e d a c t u a l events n e v e r t h e l e s s . Sums of 30,000 and 40,000 ecus were o f f e r e d Monluc on s u c c e s s i v e v i s i t s by Huguenot spokesmen i f he would merely a b s t a i n from t a k i n g arms a g a i n s t them.""" The k i n g ' s governors and l i e u t e n a n t s were i n a p o s i t i o n to dispense l i m i t e d patronage p a r t i c u l a r l y i n the form of m i l i t a r y 2 appointments. The n o b i l i t y of Guyenne sent one of t h e i r number before the k i n g s h o r t l y a f t e r the f i r s t War of R e l i g i o n to c a r r y t h e i r remonstrance. Among t h e i r c h i e f g r i e v a n c e s was the o p p o s i t i o n of the Parlement of Bordeaux to the g r a n t i n g of g i f t s t o nobles by B u r i e and Monluc. I t was claimed by the nobles that they were a p a r t . o f the k i n g ' s army and the n o b i l i t y of Guyenne l e d by the seigneur de B u r i e and de Monluc and t h a t these l e a d e r s , l a c k i n g f i n a n c i a l means t o reward those who were most f a i t h f u l and those put to g r e a t e s t expense i n the k i n g ' s s e r v i c e , had made them s m a l l grants of p r o p e r t y . The p r o p e r t y granted was a p p a r e n t l y t h a t taken i n war from the r e b e l s and the k i n g ' s Monluc, Commentaires, I I , 403-413. Supr_a, Chapter I I I . " 126 council supported the judgment of the Parlement, l o c a l watchdog for r o y a l prerogatives, by r u l i n g that no lieutenant could grant the property of someone else."*" The type of patronage most often shown by the great nobles was i n recommending to office and the amount of patronage a noble could dispense depended upon the degree of influence he possessed at the court. Thus governors and lieutenants recommended individuals for recognition but the 2 king was most often the source of patronage. Even a lieutenant- general seeking office attempted to gain the support of such men as the due de Montpensier, the king of Navarre and the due de 3 Guise. There would appear to be much j u s t i f i c a t i o n for the statement, "Just as the medieval king was the p r i n c i p a l l o r d in the kingdom, so the Renaissance monarch was the greatest patron." ^ Monluc claimed that after a l i f e t i m e of service to the crown he could not show his house to be twenty thousand ecus r i c h e r for i t and i n his remonstrance to the king, Monluc defended himself against the charge of having used his office to amass a fortune of 300,000 ecus• He suggested i r o n i c a l l y that he wished the charge were true, providing the funds had ""Documents Pour Servir a . . . , Nos. 91, 92. 2 I b i d . , Nos. 63, 6k. ^ I b i d . , No. 80. Burie requested the office of Admiral of Guyenne and enlisted the support of Montpensier. k Major, "Crown and Aristocracy i n Renaissance France," p. 6^3. 127 been taken from t.he Huguenots. According to his own account he had taken from the Huguenots, of course, but only as legitimate s p o i l s of war and to prevent his s o l d i e r s from r e v o l t i n g at the sight of a vanquished enemy treated better than they were them- selves. Furthermore, he claimed, he had found i t essential to overcome a reputation as a Huguenot sympathizer. C e r t a i n l y , had the r o y a l f i n a n c i a l o f f i c e r s been i n his place they would have taken a m i l l i o n ecus where he took only three thousand. Monluc touched on the system of royal patronage to recommend that Charles IX maintain i n his coffers purses contain- ing various amounts with which he could personally reward his f a i t h f u l subjects according to t h e i r q u a l i t e . He predicted that the r o y a l f i n a n c i a l o f f i c i a l s would advise the king that i t was beneath his dignity to d i s t r i b u t e purses personally. Such advice should be ignored, claimed Monluc, since i t would be offered by those whose concern was to keep the money passing through t h e i r own hands.so that some might s t i c k . His estimate was that the man who was granted two thousand ecus by the king received only five hundred by the time i t had passed through o f f i c i a l hands. Giving f i n a n c i a l rewards personally would strengthen the r e l a t i o n s between the king and his nobles provided such g i f t s were d i s t r i b u t e d equitably. On the l a t t e r point, Monluc suggested with a l i t t l e bitterness that someone i n Guyenne had received the l i o n ' s share. Perhaps he was a l l u d i n g 128 to his long resented r i v a l , Francois Peyrusse d'Escars. It i s highly probable that i n spite of his s p i r i t e d defence, Monluc had accumulated a fortune of at least 300,000 ecus and his own defence contributes insights into the ways i n which he could have accomplished i t . Following his address to Charles IX, Monluc directed a remonstrance to the king's brother, the due d'Anjou. In that remonstrance he maintained that fame and glory were much more important to him than r i c h e s . Much evidence suggests that glory was indeed important to Monluc but there i s l i t t l e to suggest, that he conceived of glory and riches as separate e n t i t i e s . Monluc observed at length that the king was the source of a l l benefits and requested that his children receive due f i n a n c i a l recognition. He compared his own unselfish service with that of several prominent families who had served Louis XI and had been immortalized i n verse. To prove his own scrupulous honesty and disinterested service Monluc r e c a l l e d a l l the offices he had held and the opportunities they had presented for personal enrichment, opportunities he had eschewed, of course. Many captains of gens de pied became r i c h on the pay of t h e i r soldiers and on the money provided for their v i c t u a l s . With a good f o u r r i e r and a l i t t l e help i t was easy. He, Monluc, had been a captain of gens de pied seven or eight times without e x p l o i t i n g the opportunity. The 129 maitre de camp had even greater opportunities for he could make a deal with the commissaires des v i v r e s . And he himself was not slow to discover where there was an opportunity for gain. He had always had a good nose. Yet he had three times held the office of maitre de camp without enriching himself. As a governor of places he always had the opportunity of taking money from eighty or a hundred men who wished to escape m i l i t a r y s e r v i c e . Having held these offices as long as he had and supervised as many montres as he had i n his l i f e , "avec quelque peu d'epargne, mon Dieu, quelle montagne d'or a u r o i s - j e i " Arid yet he claimed that was a mountain of gold he had not mined. As lieutenant of the king i n Sienna and Montalcino, Monluc had faced great opportunities to increase his fortune. Local merchants were more t h a n - w i l l i n g to work out agreements r e l a t i n g to the grain supply for the s o l d i e r s and loans could be made at high i n t e r e s t . Nevertheless when Monluc was relieved his successor found grain s t i l l i n the warehouse and the poor had been fed with the surplus. As a man progressed through the cursus honorum the opport- unities for personal gain increased and Monluc indicated a few of the ways i n which other governors and lieutenants-general exploited their p o s i t i o n s . It would not be d i f f i c u l t , he maintained, to make arrangements with the receiver general of the province 130 and to f i l l one's personal coffers and to tap the money for montres, garrisons and the movement of a r t i l l e r y . Monluc could have raised many taxes, for the king had given him authority to do so, and he could have turned those taxes to his own p r o f i t . A t h i r d source of income could be the exaction of payment from towns and v i l l a g e s for the promise of exemption from the support of a g a r r i s o n . On t h i s point at l e a s t , Courteault states that there i s abundant evidence that Monluc refrained from this common practice as a matter of s c r u p l e . M o n l u c observed that he could have followed the example of others who exacted extortion from the Huguenots for the promise not to attack them even when they were l i v i n g peacably on their estates i n accordance with the e d i c t . Monluc declared his innocence of a l l the a r t i f i c e s he mentioned and reminded his reader that the gain he 'had had from C l a i r a c was with the s p e c i f i c permission of the k i n g . It i s impossible to ascertain the extent to which Blaise de Monluc used the techniques he described to increase his estate and to what extent he increased i t by other means. Some other sources were the stipends of his o f f i c e s , the pensions granted by the crown, the income from multiple offices granted to him, Monluc, Commentaires, I I I , 4-21, n . l . 131 g i f t s from c i t i e s and the estates of his wives. Beyond his own fame, his chief concern was the honour and,fortune which should come to his sons and grandsons. For t h i s reason he reminded Charles IX and the due d'Anjbu of the l e t t e r written by the king on December 3, 1570 bearing the promise, Tenez-vous tout asseure que j'auray souvenance a jamais de vos longs et grands services, desquels, s i vous ne pouvez recepvoir l a recompence condign!, vos enfans acheveront d'en c u e i l l i r le f r u i c t , joinct q u ' i l s sont t e l s et m'ont ja s i bien servy que d'eux-mesmes i l s ont merit! que l ' o n face pour eux ce que je seray bien aise de f a i r e , quand 1'occasion s'en presentera. Monluc, Comrnentaires, I I I , 411. CHAPTER V LOCAL INSTITUTIONS AND ROYAL AUTHORITY The F i r s t War of Religion - Summary of Events Upon the death of Francis II and the succession of Charles IX Catherine de Medicis managed to obtain the regency. She organ- ized the government around herself and three Bourbon princes, Antoine de Bourbon (king of Navarre), the c a r d i n a l de Bourbon and the prince de Conde. They were assisted by the constable Anne de Montmorency, the three C h a t i l l o n brothers, the due de Montpensier and the prince de l a R o c h e - s u r - Y o n T h e Guises l e f t the court 2 temporarily deprived of a share i n government. Catherine wrote to Sebastien de l'Aubespine, her ambassador i n Madrid, that "it has been found best by a l l the princes of the blood, the lords of the c o u n c i l , and other great personages of t h i s realm that the p r i n c i p a l and sovereign authority i n i t should remain i n my hands." Catherine was determined to preserve the monarchy and to maintain herself i n power and to those ends she attempted to steer a middle course between r i v a l factions, both r e l i g i o u s and 4 p o l i t i c a l . Her method was the method of c o n c i l i a t i o n and she Thompson, Wars of R e l i g i o n , p. 7 3 . 2 I b i d . ^Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, I, 5 6 9 . 4 F r a n k l i n C . Palm, P o l i t i c s and Religion i n Sixteenth Century France, (Boston: Ginn and Company, 1 9 2 7 ) , p. 1 1 . 133 found.:,it inconceivable that there should be circumstances for which that method might prove inadequate.* In the summer of 1561 e c c l e s i a s t i c a l estate was convened at Poissy with both Catholic and Protestant theological leaders present. Catherine aimed to effect a r e c o n c i l i a t i o n but i n that she was unsuccessful. The powers of diplomacy were limited in matters of conscience. Nevertheless Catherine achieved at least an outward r e c o n c i l i a t i o n s 2 between Guise and Conde.. Catherine's policy of c o n c i l i a t i o n found expression i n the Edict of January, 1562. The Edict of July had forbidden judges and magistrates from pursuing the Huguenots; the new edict for the f i r s t time granted them the right to meet i n p u b l i c . 5 Following the massacre at Vassy i n March, 1562 the Triumvirate consolidated i t s p o s i t i o n i n Paris and threatened to completely dominate the crown. Catherine desired to maintain as much independence as possible and for that purpose she attempted to maintain the support of Conde. In t h i s attempt she contributed to the mobilization of 4 Protestant forces. Conditions i n the kingdom were ripe for c i v i l war. In fact, *John Neale, The Age of Catherine de Medicis (London: Cape, 19-+3), P. 41. 2 Thompson, Wars of R e l i g i o n , pp. 102-103. F . A. Isambert, Recueil General des Anciennes Lois Francaises (Paris: Plon, 1882), XIV, 124-129. 4, Supra, p. 15 134 before the massacre of Vassy many parts of the kingdom had been subjected to r i o t s , iconoclastic demonstrations, and a l l kinds of disorders."*' The Peace of Cateau-Cambresis flooded the kingdom with s o l d i e r s and o f f i c e r s from the I t a l i a n Wars. These men could not be threatened with the loss of their regular employment 2 and income without p r e c i p i t a t i n g great disorder. The problem was i n t e n s i f i e d by the economic impact on the state and i t s kings of those costly foreign wars and by the fact that many of the s o l d i e r s had been converted to Protestantism during their s e r v i c e . The r e l i g i o u s d i v i s i o n contributed an issue for c i v i l war and Huguenot church organization contributed a basis for recruitment and organization of a m i l i t a r y force. From A p r i l to June, 1562 the king was i n the control of the Guise faction and the Protestant army increased at Orleans as Conde promoted the p o l i t i c a l theory that the king was a captive 4 and the Huguenots were struggling for his release. Under those circumstances Catherine's only hope to prevent c i v i l war and lessen Guise control was to persuade Conde to disarm and return to the court, thereby removing the Guise excuse for maintaining ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 2. In January 1561 the Parlement of Bordeaux wrote to Charles IX of the "inconveniens, scismes et divisions" which continued daily i n Guyenne over the r e l i g i o u s issue. 2 Lucien Romier, Les Origins Politiques des Guerres de Religion (Paris: P e r r i n , 1914), I I , 235. 5 I b i d . , p. 253. 4 Thompson, Wars of R e l i g i o n , p. 138. 135 a large force under arms. Conde's insistence on the removal of the Guise faction as a prerequisite to disarmament only ensured the continuation of preparations for war.* In seige and battle during the summer of 1562 the Catholic army regained much of the Loire region from Conde's forces. The m i l i t a r y s k i l l and t i r e l e s s efforts of Monluc saved Toulouse and Bordeaux, the major c i t i e s of the southwest from the Huguenots. That f o r c e f u l Gascon o f f i c e r was responsible also for regaining the c i t y of Lectoure from the Huguenots. His vi ctory over a large Huguenot force under Duras at the battle of Vergt (October) was p a r t i c u l a r l y s i g n i f i c a n t for i t prevented those Huguenots south of the Loire from joining the prince de Conde. It may thus have provided the measure of the Huguenot defeat at the c r u c i a l battle 2 of Dreux two months l a t e r . The concern of P h i l i p II over a f f a i r s i n France acted as a spur to the Catholic cause and repeatedly hampered Catherine's attempts at c o n c i l i a t i o n . His Catholic majesty could not help but be concerned with heresy i n France for that nation was a wedge between Spain and her valuable provinces of the Low Countries. Violent r e l i g i o u s changes i n France threatened the I b i d . , p. 150 2 I b i d . , p. 157« It i s a commentary on the general accuracy of Monluc's colourful and e g o t i s t i c a l commentaries that such a careful h i s t o r i a n as Thompson used them as the basis of t h i s part of his n a r r a t i v e . 136 Netherlands. As early as January, 1561 a Spanish envoy carried to the French court the word that P h i l i p II would be compelled to suppress any new sect permitted i n France "to preserve the t e r r i t o r i e s of his brother-in-law and to prevent his own dominions from being i n f e c t e d . " Catherine wrote and attempted 2 to explain her c o n c i l i a t o r y policy to her son-in-law. The Spanish ambassador, Chantonnay, was instrumental i n the formation of the Triumvirate and exercised great influence over i t s p o l i c i e s . ' The Spanish court brought constant pressure to bear on the court of France to extinguish heresy i n the kingdom. Foreign involvement i n French a f f a i r s extended to England where the Huguenot appeal to Elizabeth was accompanied by the 4 promise ultimately to restore Calais to the E n g l i s h . Both the Spanish and the English were held back from f u l l scale involvement i n France because neither could afford the r i s k of commercial injury through the breaking of t h e i r r e l a t i o n s i n Holland and Flanders.^ Nevertheless, the English occupied Havre early i n October and thus goaded the Catholic forces into redoubling """Bernerd C. Weber, The Diplomatic Relations between France and Spain during the Reign~"of Charles IX, p. 40. Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, I, 577-578. 3 Weber, op. c i t . , p. 4-3. 4 Lavisse, H i s t o i r e de France, VI: I , 68. 5 Thompson, Wars of R e l i g i o n , p. I63. 137 their efforts to take Rouen from the Huguenots. The help of a small English force was i n s u f f i c i e n t to ensure Rouen's defence but i n the course of the seige Antoine de Bourbon was mortally wounded. According to the decision of the Estates-General of Orleans the prince de Conde should have succeeded the king of Navarre as lieutenant of the realm and the prince sent out commissions to a l l major officers ordering them to recognize his authority as the king's lieutenant-general and governor of France. The court and the Catholic party, however, set aside the r u l i n g of the Estates and no successor was immediately named. The Spanish government pressed the candidacy of the cardinal of Bourbon but expressed i t s willingness that Catherine have the entire government of a f f a i r s . * In December Condi's forces faced the much larger army of the due de Guise i n the battle of Dreux. In the course of the f i g h t i n g the marshal Saint-Andre was k i l l e d and Conde and the constable Montmorency taken prisoner by opposite sides. The depleted Huguenot forces under Coligny, prevented from joining 2 with the English i n Havre, retreated to Orleans. The assassin- ation of the due de Guise i n February, 1563 was a serious blow Thompson, Wars of R e l i g i o n , p. 1 7 1 . 2 I b i d . , pp. I8O- I 8 I . 138 to the Catholic forces; two of the triumvirs were dead and the t h i r d , a prisoner. Catherine de Medicis wanted to negotiate a peace and to unite Catholic and Huguenot against the English i n the recovery of Havre. She was anxious to avoid a m i l i t a r y victory that would enable either side to dominate the crown.'*' The prince de Conde and the constable Montmorency were freed from prison to lead negotiations for a peace settlement. On March 19, 1563 the Edict of Amboise was decreed by the king 2 and his c o u n c i l . It was d e f i n i t e l y c o n c i l i a t o r y towards the Huguenots and the Parlement of Paris objected to i t s r e g i s t r a t i o n as did Parlements i n Rouen, Dijon, and T o u l o u s e . A l t h o u g h peace had been decreed the p a c i f i c a t i o n of the kingdom did not take place overnight. Many Catholics objected to the pardoning of Huguenots and the restoration of t h e i r property. In attempting to pacify the Protestants the crown offended many C a t h o l i c s . In Guyenne those who s a » themselves or their positions threatened found means of achieving their own ends. The Parlement of Bordeaux demonstrated i t s concern with the status and prerogatives of i t s members. The n o b i l i t y continued an association o f f i c i a l l y disbanded by the crown. In both cases l o c a l i n s t i t u t i o n s r e s i s t e d royal orders while i d e n t i f y i n g themselves staunchly with the crown. I b i d . , p. 172. i Isambert, Recueil des Anciennes L o i s , XIV, 135« Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, I I , i v . 139 Catholic Leagues in,Guyenne The emergence of Catholic leagues i n Guyenne and Languedoc signalled the beginning of a trend that was to have great significance for the crown as the Wars of Religion continued. In 1576 Henry III saw i n a Catholic League an organization which could provide either the opportunity for strengthening the crown or a powerful threat to royal authority. He decided to exploit the opportunity and declared himself head of the League.* The early leagues, however, were not greeted with royal enthusiasm. A Catholic league was formed at Toulouse i n March, 1563* The cardinals, Armagnac and S t r o z z i , as well as Monluc were 2 i n f l u e n t i a l i n i t s establishment. This organization, composed of many clergymen, nobles, and bourgeois of Languedoc and Guyenne, and under the direct j u r i s d i c t i o n of the Parlement of Toulouse, actually took up arms and pledged i t s e l f by oath to march wherever required for the defense of the Catholic r e l i g i o n . 5 At Agen a league was formed one month before that at Toulouse and shortly thereafter the League of Cadillac was established by Monluc's lieutenant, Candale, and named for Candale's estate, the place of i t s founding. 5 Some of the leagues formed consisted *De Lemar Jensen, Diplomacy and Dogmatism, p. 39. 2 Dom Claude Devic and dom Jean Joseph Vaissete, H i s t o i r e Generale de Languedoc (Toulouse: E. Privat, 1 8 7 2 - 1 8 9 2 ) , V, 2 4 9 . 5 Jensen, Diplomacy and Dogmatism, p. 39• 4 Monluc, Comrnentaires et Lettres, IV, 190-1.95. (This document i s the act establishing the league, i t s charter.) 5 I b i d . , IV, 2 1 4 . iko c h i e f l y of artisans whose guilds "offered an i d e a l i n s t i t u t i o n a l structure for the organization and co-ordination of Catholic opposition to the growing Huguenot forces." """ Monluc, however, encouraged the noblesse to form an a s s o c i a t i o n . Such noble leagues were by no means a new phenomenon in France. "Organized resistance to royal c e n t r a l i z a t i o n among the seigneurs of the second rank showed i t s e l f i n the leagues of 1314 and 1 3 1 5 T h e associations formed i n southwest France during the Wars of Religion were not primarily for the defence of l o c a l r i g h t s but for the defence of feudal prerogatives. Nobles whose interests were bound up with those of the king saw that the defection of royal o f f i c i a l s to the Huguenots was undermining the r o y a l administration of the province. Their own feudal p o s i t i o n was s i m i l a r l y threatened as emboldened tenants, converted to the Huguenot cause refused the decimes to the church, the t a i l l e to the crown and t h e i r feudal dues to the n o b l e s s e N o t only did the r o y a l cause depend upon the goodwill of the l o c a l n o b i l i t y but the well-being of the l o c a l n o b i l i t y depended upon the triumph of the crown. In leagues the Catholic Jensen, Diplomacy and Dogmatism, p. 39 and Thompson, Wars of .Religion, pp. 212-223. 2 John Le Patourel, "The King and the Princes i n Fourteenth- Century France," Europe i n the Late Middle Ages, Hale, et a l , ed. (Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1965), p. 182. ^Supra, p. 97- 1 4 1 n o b i l i t y pledged person and goods to the defence of t h e i r own cause. The Edict of P a c i f i c a t i o n of March, 1 5 6 3 forbade the establishment of new associations and commanded that those already formed be dissolved.* Catherine's firm l e t t e r to Monluc coincided with the e d i c t . She evidently regarded the formation of leagues as an inexcusable expression of p r o v i n c i a l independence. She soundly rebuked Monluc for his leadership i n the venture and 2 commanded him to undo the work he had done. In spite of Monluc's assurance that the league of Agen was dissolved, i t continued, without royal permission, and after August, 1 5 6 4 came to be known as the league of Guyenne.5 In June, I 5 6 3 the king's council received a series of a r t i c l e s from the noblesse of Guyenne who had gathered i n Bordeaux and sent a representative to be t h e i r spokesman at the 4 court. The queen mother had received prior n o t i f i c a t i o n for i n A p r i l , Antoine de Pardaillan, baron de Gondrin, had written to report the establishment of the association of the noblesse of *Isambert, Recueil des Anciennes Lois, XIV, 1 4 5 . Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, I, 551-552. (March 31, 1 5 6 3 ) 5 Caleb G. Kelly, French Protestantism 1559- 1 5 6 2 . Series XXXVI, No. 4 of Johns Hopkins University Studies i n H i s t o r i c a l and P o l i t i c a l Science (Baltimore; The Johns Hopkins Press, 1 9 1 8 ) , p. 79. 4 Documents Pour Servir a..., Nos. 91, 92. Ik2 Guyenne."*" His description made the association sound s i n i s t e r i n purpose for he f e l t certain that the group, formed with a common purse, represented a plot on the part of some of the leading,nobles, to foment trouble and maintain s t r i f e when the peace had just been published. Gondrin was convinced that the majority of the magistrates of Guyenne were crooked, favoured the subversive association of the n o b i l i t y , and worked hand-in- glove with them to enrich themselves. The reasons for Gondrin's opinion of the association and the nature of the association i t s e l f are c l a r i f i e d by the remaining contents of his l e t t e r . He proceed- ed to speak of the "good and just quarrel" of the prince de Conde and to assure Catherine that the majority of the n o b i l i t y and s o l d i e r s of the region would never have taken arms had they not been persuaded of the c a p t i v i t y of the king and the queen mother. From the tone of his l e t t e r , Gondrin had been a l l i e d with the Huguenots. As he assured Catherine of his l o y a l t y , he explained his actions during the recent h o s t i l i t i e s with the standard Huguenot r a t i o n a l e . Thus his distrust of a Catholic association i s understandable. As the promulgation of the Edict of P a c i f i c a t i o n r e f l e c t e d the royal policy of pacifying the kingdom by making concessions to the Huguenots, an association ardently committed to the Catholic cause could very well become a threat ^Documents Pour Servir a..., No. 86. Ik3 to the peace. That most of the Catholic n o b i l i t y were d i s l o y a l to the crown, or even to the queen mother, and sought i n an association an outlet for their d i s l o y a l t y i s an untenable suggestion. Before the outbreak of c i v i l war, Burie declared that the n o b i l i t y awaited only the king's orders to give battle to a common enemy. He referred to the n o b i l i t y , sustained by the k i n g , a r i s i n g en masse against the r e b e l s , seeing that their p r i v i l e g e s , t h e i r revenues and their ancient rights were threatened.* At the outset of the war as Monluc and Burie took the f i e l d with their forces, they reported to Charles IX that Negrepelisse with a large number of gentlemen from the region of the Agenais, Armagnac, Quercy, Perigord, Ronergue, and Commenge had come before them to offer t h e i r persons and goods for the king's 2 s e r v i c e . Negrepelisse asked to come before the king to declare the support of the n o b i l i t y . Charles IX assured him that hearing of t h e i r devotion gave him great s a t i s f a c t i o n and then emphasized the fact that the n o b i l i t y could do nothing better than to present themselves, well-equipped, to his lieutenants, Burie and Monluc, and serve under them. 5 The king's authority was channelled through his appointed lieutenants and not through a band of nobles, Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 150, Memoire de Burie au r o i " 6 j u i l l e t , 1561. 2 Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 121. 3 Documents Pour Servir a . . . . . No. 1?. Ikk however l o y a l they might be. In their communication to the king, the noblesse of Guyenne maintained that they had created an association of good f a i t h with no other purpose than to pledge themselves to employ t h e i r l i v e s and goods for the king's a u t h o r i t y . 1 They attributed the queen mother's concern and suspicion to the fact that those d i s l o y a l to the king slandered anything introduced to r e s i s t them and had, therefore, attempted to make the association appear unjust. Whatever the source of Catherine's concern, however, when Monluc had made i t known to them, they had immediately obeyed and the association was dissolved "comme s i jamais t e l l e association n'eust eu commencement." The vicomte d'Uza, spokes- man for t he noblesse, was to remind the king of the f a i t h f u l service rendered by the nobles of Guyenne and to obtain l e t t e r s of declaration and confirmation maintaining them i n their ancient l i b e r t i e s , franchises and p r i v i l e g e s . They believed that the Huguenots had greater credit with the Parlement than they, e s p e c i a l l y with the f i r s t president. P a r t i c u l a r l y g a l l i n g to the Catholic nobles were the l e t t e r s received by Huguenots declaring them good and f a i t h f u l servitors of the king while the l o y a l Catholics possessed no such declarations. Charles IX assured them he would investigate the charges against the f i r s t president Documents Pour Servir a . . . , Nos. 91, 92. 145 of the Parlement; i f necessary he would summon the man to the court. As for declarations of t h e i r l o y a l t y , there had never been l e t t e r s patent declaring them other than good subjects as i n the case of the Huguenots who had been declared r e b e l s . * The formation of leagues was the action of men who saw their positions threatened by the growth of the Huguenot movement. Monluc saw i n these associations a means of strengthening the Catholic position by compensating for the demobilization of 2 garrison troops required by the Edict of P a c i f i c a t i o n . Moreover, he found i n the sponsorship of leagues an opportunity to enhance his own p o s i t i o n as t h e i r promoter and spokesman. The immediate reason for Catherine's fear and d i s t r u s t of associations may have stemmed from the actions of Conde. To unite his cohorts i n t h e i r common task, the prince had them sign on A p r i l 11, 1562 an act of association i n four a r t i c l e s . By t h e i r signing they undertook to employ body and goods, to the l a s t drop of their blood, to the deliverance of the king and queen mother, the conservation of t h e i r edicts and ordonnances and the just punishment of those who held them i n contempt. Those who signed committed themselves to fight together u n t i l Charles IX came of age, and undertook i n person the government of his kingdom.5 ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , Nos. 91, 92. 2 Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 344-345. 5Me"moires de Conde, t . I l l , p. 258. ike The avowed purpose of Conde and his associates was laudable, but under such loyal-sounding aims, they made war against the crown. Any group organized and committed to a p a r t i c u l a r purpose, i f need be i n spite of the crown, represented a threat to royal authority. Catherine demanded obedience to the king and to his appointed lieutenants rather than to a charter. Another source of concern to Catherine was the news that Monluc was i n t r i g u i n g with the Spanish. He had threatened to i n v i t e the Catholic king into Blarn i f Jeanne d'Albret continued to support the Protestants for, he s a i d , the n o b i l i t y and a l l the region favoured the Spanish k i n g . 1 As early as October, 1562, i t was rumoured that Monluc was planning to deliver the whole of 2 Guyenne into the hands of P h i l i p I I . The lieutenant-general of Guyenne entered into correspondence with P h i l i p II early i n 1564 i n which he denounced the p o l i c i e s of the queen mother and her chancellor. He proposed to the Spanish king the formation of a league consisting of the pope, the emperor, the king of Spain, and a l l the Catholic princes of Germany and I t a l y . ^ P h i l i p II k showed interest and sent a spy to confer with Monluc. Catherine was no doubt disturbed to find that a royal o f f i c e r would intrigue "''Paul Courteault, Blaise de Monluc,' Historien (Paris: P i c a r d , 1908), p. k?0. 2 Weber, Diplomatic Relations between France and Spain, p. 89; Courteault, Blaise de Monluc, H i s t o r i e n , p. 485- ^Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 319-327. Courteault, Blaise de Monluc, H i s t o r i e n , p. 486. 147 with the sovereign of another state and, possible gain the support of the l o c a l n o b i l i t y for a project detrimental to royal authority. That i n i t s e l f was s u f f i c i e n t reason to be suspicious of any expression of p r o v i n c i a l independence and to decree that associations must be dissolved.. Local Estates F i r s t among the concerns of the noblesse of Guyenne was the finding of a forum for the expression of their l o y a l t y and of their concerns."*' They asked that Bordeaux be given the p r i v i l e g e of holding l o c a l estates and they pointed out that most provinces and even most parts of their own province had the custom of meet- ing i n that way to consider what must be done for the king's service and for the conservation of the kingdom. They were concerned about being deprived of a means of making known their complaints and grievances. Charles IX was reluctant to permit such a convocation of estates and r e p l i e d that he did not wish to change that which was customarily done. Thus the nobles were unable to solve through the convocation of l o c a l estates the problem they had t r i e d to solve by the formation of an association, the problem of finding a forum i n which to make t h e i r voices heard. The decision of the king's council not to convoke the Documents Pour Servir a . . . , Nos. 91, 92. 148 l o c a l estates i n Bordeaux was reinforced i n the months that followed by l e t t e r s from Catherine to d'Escars and to the Archbishop of Bordeaux.* The l a t t e r had requested royal authorization for such a gathering to consider an old problem, the gabelle du s e l . The reluctance of Catherine and Charles to authorize a meeting of the p r o v i n c i a l estates i n Bordeaux stemmed i n part from events of 156l. The Estates of Orleans, convened the day after the death of Francis I I , adjourned at the end of January with Charles IX commanding the deputies to return to their b a i l l i a g e s i n order to find means for paying the king's debts. New assemblies were to be held i n each b a i l l i a g e or senechaussle i n March and i n the p r i n c i p a l c i t y of each gouvernement during 2 the same month. These assemblies were to r e s t r i c t their deliberations solely to f i n a n c i a l questions,and to name t h i r t y - six delegates, one for each order i n each government, to meet i n the Estates-General at Melun on the f i r s t of May. Although the s t r i c t e s t l i m i t a t i o n s had been placed on the meetings of l o c a l estates i n March, they refused to obey these l i m i t s and r e s t r i c t consideration to the problem of paying the *Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, I I , 115 and note. 2 Lucien Romier, Catholiques et Huguenots a l a Cour de Charles IX (Paris: L i b r a i r e Academique, 1924), p. 58. 149 king's debts. The assembly of the three estates i n the private of Paris immediately turned i t s attention to the question of the regency even though the president had announced that they must concern themselves only with finding means to pay the debts of the k i n g . They rejected the regency of Catherine, proposed Antoine de Bourbon, f i r s t prince of the blood, as regent, and revised the l i s t of members of the privy council to exclude the Guises and a l l other seasoned supporters of the k i n g . At the court i t was thought that t h i s coup had been directed by the comte de La Rochefoucauld and by Antoine Fumee at Conde's . . 1 suggestion. It was not only i n Paris that the estates were r e c a l c i t r a n t . The three estates of Guyenne, assembled at Bordeaux, s i m i l a r l y ignored the directive to concern themselves only with f i n a n c i a l matters. The king had published an ordonnance (18 February, 156l) convoking the se'ne'chausse'es of Guyenne, Landes, Perigord, Quercy, Armagnac, Limousin, Agen and the b a i l l i a g e of Labour, Comminges and the jugeries of Riviere-Verdun to deliberate on the propositions presented to the estates of Orleans and to name 2 their deputies. • Monluc reported to the queen on the assembly of the three estates i n the c i t y of Agen and assured her that the three representatives chosen to go to Bordeaux on the I b i d . , pp. 89-91. Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, l l O n . 150. twentieth of the month were wise, virtuous, humble, and obedient and would make their way to Bordeaux i n accordance with the r o y a l l e t t e r s to give a response to the lieutenant of the king."'" Upon meeting i n Bordeaux the delegates re-examined the proposals of the king's council to the estates of Orleans and then turned t h e i r attention to r e l i g i o u s discussion and adopted a position of 2 absolute intolerance. Their views were d i r e c t l y opposed to the p o l i c y Catherine was following as she prepared the Edict of July and planned for the Colloquy of Poissy. The p r o v i n c i a l assemblies were i n no way helpful to the king i n the solution of the f i n a n c i a l c r i s i s and they raised barriers before royal p o l i t i c a l and r e l i g i o u s p o l i c i e s . Catherine seized the only recourse available and prevailed upon Charles to annul the decisions taken, f i x the dates for e l e c t o r a l assemblies for May, the p r o v i n c i a l assembly for June, and the opening of the new Estates-General for August at Pontoise.^ By the time the deputies were a l l present i n Bordeaux and ready to assemble, Burie had received a l e t t e r from the king countermanding the order to convoke the assembly. The estates 1 I b i d . , pp. 110-114. 2 Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , p. 38. ^Georges P i c o t , H i s t o i r e des Etats Generaux (2nd e d i t i o n ; P a r i s : Hachette, 1888), I I , 55. 151 of Guyenne were delayed by the late a r r i v a l of several deputies and Burie received the king's l e t t e r June 13th. The king's l e t t e r indicated that the decisions of the e a r l i e r assemblies (20 March) were s u f f i c i e n t . The king's council was already showing a reluctance to convoke the p r o v i n c i a l estates for the l i k e l i h o o d was that t h e i r demands would be even greater than i n the previous meeting. The deputies, most of whom had been waiting i n Bordeaux for some time, ignored the king's l e t t e r and met anyway. The t h i r d estate showed a desire to use force to stamp out the reform but members of the n o b i l i t y were more moderate i n their attitude to the Huguenots. In fact, one representative of the second estate was Symphorien de Durfort, baron de Duras, who was to become the m i l i t a r y leader of the Huguenots i n Guyenne i n the following year. But they demanded that the king convoke the Estates-General annually, and recognize i t s competence i n matters of government "according to the ancient laws and observances of the kingdom." * Burie forwarded the proc^s-verbal of the assembly to the king without comment. The l o c a l estates had not proved useful but had shown themselves e n t i r e l y too independent and hard to handle for the king's l i k i n g . Therefore, i t was not strange that the request of the n o b i l i t y of Guyenne two years l a t e r for an assembly of the three estates I b i d . , p. kl. 152 in the senechaussee of Guyenne should bring a negative response from the king and the queen mother. The Parlement of Bordeaux Catherine de Medicis attempted to mobilize every possible resource on behalf of royal authority and i n the interests of pacifying the kingdom. In 1560 she convened at Fontainebleau an assembly of notables which included the r o y a l c o u n c i l , the princes, great o f f i c e r s of the crown and knights of the order."*' On that occasion Jean de Monluc, bishop of Valence, urged the convocation of the Estates-General and the establishment of a national council to reform the church. The following year the clergy met at Poissy with the charge of finding a common ground between Roman Catholic and Protestant. Meetings of the Estates- General at Orleans and at Pontoise were unable to achieve solutions either to the p o l i t i c a l or to the r e l i g i o u s problems of the kingdom. At the height of the f i r s t War of Religion Catherine de Medicis confided to the due d'ftampes, governor of Bretagne, that since the bishops at Poissy had done nothing to appease the troubles on account of r e l i g i o n , she intended to try another strategy. She planned to "assemble many good men from the courts of Parlement to consider means of ending the troubles 2 i n the kingdom and maintaining obedience to the k i n g . " Lavisse, H i s t o i r e de France, VI: I, 21-24. Lettres de Catherine de Medicis, I, 243. 153 No such assembly was held but the Parlements did play a s i g n i f i c a n t role i n the maintenance of the monarchy nevertheless. As a sovereign court the Parlement of Bordeaux v e r i f i e d and registered royal e d i c t s , arranged for the publication of those e d i c t s , f i l l e d gaps i n l e g i s l a t i o n with i t s own decrees, took an active part i n the maintenance of order and heard appeals from l o c a l courts i n the province.* Generally the Parlement co- operated with the governor i n the maintenance of r o y a l authority and that s p i r i t was demonstrated i n a l e t t e r to Antoine de Bourbon after a Huguenot plot had threatened the c i t y . The men of the Parlement assured him that they had sent deputies before Burie to pledge themselves to the l a s t drop of their blood and the x 2 l a s t ecu of t h e i r purses. Jealous defence of royal prerogatives led the Parlement of Bordeaux to issue a remonstrance to Charles IX against l e t t e r s patent granted by Jeanne d ' A l b r e t . 5 Monluc c a l l e d to the attention of the court l e t t e r s patent by which the queen of Navarre authorized C a l v i n i s t preaching i n a l l her towns and chateaux. The Parlement considered the l e t t e r s patent as Gaston Z e l l e r , "L'administration monarchique avant les intendants," Revue h i s t o r i q u e . V o l . 197 (19*+7), pp. I85-I87 and Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I, 210-211. 2 Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 31. 5 I _ b i d . , No. 9k. k Monluc, Comrnentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 239-253. 154 contrary to the king's edict and derogating from the king's authority. By promulgating them through the senechal of the duchy of Albret before presentation to the Parlement Jeanne d'Albret had registered them unlawfully and had trespassed on the sovereignty of Guyenne. Men of the sovereign court took p a r t i c u l a r exception to Jeanne d ' A l b r e t ' s use of the words "for such i s our pleasure," since t h e i r use pertained to the king a l o n e . 1 While they awaited the king's r u l i n g , the men of Parlement issued a provisional decree forbidding the sene"chaux of the duchy of Albret to publish similar l e t t e r s patent on 2 pain of a thousand l i v r e f i n e . Frequently the Parlement of Bordeaux offered advice to the k i n g . In 1561 i n view of l o c a l conditions, i t counselled the return of arms to the Catholics or the organizing of bands to disarm the Protestants.^ As the archbishop of Bordeaux was about to leave for the Council of Trent, the Parlement, fearing that his leaving would bring great trouble, asked the king to '4 dispense with the t r i p . In addition to offering advice, the Parlement of Bordeaux acted to enforce the king's w i l l to such an extent that a constant stream of judgments emanated from that ""Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 94. 2 Monluc, Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 240, n. 1. ^Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I, 424. 4 I b i d . , p. 461. 155 court d u r i n g the p e r i o d of c i v i l war.* Although the men of the Parlement of Bordeaux were c l e a r l y l o y a l t o the k i n g , l i k e other r o y a l o f f i c e r s they saw t h e i r o f f i c e as a means f o r p e r s o n a l advantage. Two f a c t o r s suggest that members of that s o v e r e i g n court c o u l d e x p l o i t t h e i r p o s i t i o n s . On one hand they delayed the r e g i s t r a t i o n of l e g i s l a t i o n a l i e n to t h e i r p e r s o n a l i n t e r e s t s . On the other they were widely accused of e n r i c h i n g themselves from the f i n e s they l e v i e d . In a remonstrance of August 31, 1563, Parlement informed C h a r l e s IX t h a t h i s p a t e n t s r e g a r d i n g the d e p o s i t i o n of arms, the d i s s o l u t i o n of a s s o c i a t i o n s and the announcement of h i s m a j o r i t y had been p u b l i s h e d but that h i s commissioners would be prevented from e x e c u t i n g t h e i r commissions u n t i l the Parlement had r e c e i v e d an 2 answer from him on t h e i r remonstrance. T h e i r p a r t i c u l a r grievance was the l a c k of immunity p r o v i d e d f o r them under the disarmament c l a u s e s . I t g a l l e d these men, who r e f e r r e d t o themselves as the k i n g ' s " l i e u t e n a n t z n a i z , " t h a t the n o b i l i t y were exempted while they, who must render j u s t i c e not only on the t h i r d e s t a t e but on the n o b i l i t y and the c l e r g y , were r e q u i r e d t o s t r i p themselves of arms. The Parlement emphasized the f a c t t h a t i t s members r e p r e s e n t e d the. k i n g ' s name and e.g. I b i d . , p. 446, " A r r e t du parlement de Bordeaux contre 104 de r e b e l l i o n , " 2 8 j u i l l e t , 1562. 156 authority i n his absence and saw no reason why they should be less p r i v i l e g e d than such extraordinaires as the prevSts de 1'h8tel. Not only did they forward a remonstrance to the king but the Parlement made i t s concerns known to Burie, Monluc and d'Escars.* The l a t t e r r e p l i e d that men of the Parlement should 2 set the example i n speedy obedience to the king's w i l l . The Parlements were i n constant r i v a l r y with governors for administrative a u t h o r i t y . 5 At the end of 1562 after four or five months i n m i l i t a r y compaigns, Burie returned to Bordeaux and became most concerned about conditions i n that c i t y . The m u l t i p l i c a t i o n of commanders led to "monopolies, p a r t i a l i t y and confusion so that there followed i n d i g n i t i e s , larceny and robbery even by those who should repress these things." The best s o l u t i o n , i n B u r i e ' s eyes, was to make him s o l e l y responsible for the c i t y , to place the keys of the c i t y i n no one else's hands while he was there. The interests of the king would be best served, i n fact, i f Burie were sent a commission to under- take a f u l l scale investigation of the administration of justice for he was convinced that there would be a major discrepancy ^Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 114. 2 I b i d . , No. 116. 5 Z e l l e r , "L'Administration monarchique...," p. 185. 4 • X ' „ Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 82. "Instruction b a i l l e e par monsieur de Burye au thrgsorier Le Pyn pour faire entendre au ro y ." 157 between the record of fines and confiscations on one hand, and the amount by which the king's revenues had benefited on the other. If the king would send the commission empowering him to undertake such an i n v e s t i g a t i o n , Burie would choose those he thought best from the Parlement to assist him. He would also have the c l e r k of the court provide him immediately with a statement of a l l those convicted and subjected to fines and confiscations together with the amounts. He was sure he could recover a vast sum that had gone astray within the court, and set an example that could be followed throughout the kingdom to the king's p r o f i t . Charges made by the king's lieutenant against the o f f i c e r s of the Parlement must be balanced against the counter-charges of members of that court. Nobles i n the Catholic army enriched themselves by confiscating the goods of the Huguenots. In t h i s practice they had the blessing of their commanders who did the same. In a request addressed to the king the n o b i l i t y of Guyenne declared that during the days of the c i v i l wars when the king's army and the n o b i l i t y of the province were led by Burie and Monluc, those l o r d s , lacking finances from the king to reward the most f a i t h f u l nobles, granted them some small g i f t s of p r o p e r t y . 1 The f i r s t president and members of the Parlement questioned the Documents Pour Servir a . . . , Nos. 91, 92. 158 authority of the lieutenants to make such g i f t s , and inconvenienced the receivers with summonses, arrests and fines, much to t h e i r annoyance. The nobles accused the court of favouring the Huguenots but the king's council sided with the Parlement. In t h e i r view i t was not a matter of favouring the Huguenots but of upholding law and t r a d i t i o n . The council decreed that the lieutenants had usurped a royal prerogative i n granting goods to t h e i r followers and that Parlement was merely defending that royal prerogative. 1 In the r i v a l r y between the Parlement and the lieutenants or governors both sides strongly supported royal authority and their own. The crown tended to favour the Parlement as i t had more to fear from the independence 2 of the governors. Councils and Commissions To a s s i s t and to control i t s o f f i c e r s the crown made use of councils. Before leaving for Guyenne Montpensier asked for a maitre des requetes to act as his j u d i c i a l assistant, to hear pleas, and to render justice to those found g u i l t y of sedition, r e b e l l i o n , and other crimes worthy of death. The royal council determined that he should be assisted by two councillors from the Parlement of Bordeaux and a blank commission for the Ibid. Z e l l e r , "L'Administration monarchique...," p. 211. 159 c o u n c i l l o r s to be elected was given to Montpensier. 1 S i m i l a r l y , when Monluc was sent into the province he was accompanied by two 2 c o u n c i l l o r s from the Parlement of P a r i s . They soon showed 3 Huguenot sympathies and Monluc harassed them u n t i l they f l e d . They were replaced by two men commissioned from the Parlement of Bordeaux and while awaiting them Monluc obtained the assistance of the lieutenant criminel from Agen and six c o u n c i l l o r s of that 4 senechaussee. In days of s t r i f e i t was often essential for the lieutenant to administer justice i n any l o c a t i o n and on short notice. Therefore, i t was advantageous to be accompanies by advisors who were learned i n the law and experienced i n t r i a l 5 procedure. During the c i v i l wars the crown depended increasingly on the use of commissions. A commission differed from an office i n that i t was created for a s p e c i f i c mission and i t terminated with the completion of that mission or at the king's pleasure. The ""Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 48. 2 Monluc, Commentaires, I I , 402; Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 11?. 3 Ruble, Jeanne d'Albret et l a Guerre C i v i l e , I , 163-164. 4 Monluc,. Commentaires et L e t t r e s , IV, 123-124. ^In some provinces r e l i g i o u s controversy penetrated and paralyzed the sovereign courts. The due d'Etampes, governor of Bretagne asked that a maitre des requites be commissioned to assist him i n the administration of justice since the deadlock i n the Parlement rendered i t impotent. Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No. 22. 160 use of commissions became necessary as the sale of offices and succession practices enabled o f f i c e r s to become entrenched and to demonstrate considerable independence i n the exercise of their posts. Secondly, the conversion of royal o f f i c e r s to the Protestant f a i t h l e f t offices vacant or, more often, allowed the holders to exercise their authority on behalf of the Huguenots. F i n a l l y , the disruptions caused by war at times emptied offices altogether and at other times led to the claim- ing of one office by several men. The Edict of P a c i f i c a t i o n of 1563 was brought to Guyenne by two men commissioned to present i t to the Parlement of Bordeaux for r e g i s t r a t i o n and to see to i t s execution through- out the p r o v i n c e . 1 They were delayed i n the Parlement of Bordeaux because that body wished "to make remonstrance to the king for the conservation of the authority of his sovereign 2 court." The two commissioners reported immediately to the king, the queen mother and to Monluc as governor of Guyenne. The important mission of executing the Edict of P a c i f i c a t i o n was entrusted to capable and conscientious men who did their utmost to f u l f i l their r e s p o n s i b i l i t y . In such commissioners the crown placed greater confidence than i n i t s regular o f f i c e r s s ""Documents Pour Servir a . . . , No 109. "Memoire des commissaires royaux Antoine Fumee et Hierosme Angenoust." Angenoust was a c o u n c i l - l o r of the Parlement of P a r i s . Fumee was grand rapporteur of France. The Fumee family represented a veritable dynasty of'maitres de requites de l ' H S t e l du r o i , " Doucet, I n s t i t u t i o n s , I, 155. 2 Documents Pour Servir st..., NO . 109. 161 Summary and Conclusion In the f i r s t half of the sixteenth-century the position of the king i n France was greatly enhanced. The power of the great feudal lords as r i v a l s to the king waned. In 1523 the domains of the due de Bourbon returned to the crown; the duchy of Bretagne.followed i n 1532. The only remaining p r i n c i p a l i t y of any size was the kingdom of the Albrets i n the south. The king was able to tax his subjects v i r t u a l l y at w i l l and the efficiency of f i n a n c i a l i n s t i t u t i o n s was improved. Accounting was centralized but the c o l l e c t i o n and expenditure of funds often took place on the l o c a l l e v e l . The o f f i c e r class increased i n number and function so that most agents of public authority were the king's representatives. The king appointed great nobles as governors of provinces and when they entered into r i v a l r y with the Parlements, he usually supported the Parlements. Thus the power of those courts increased and the power of the great nobles was c u r t a i l e d to some degree. Nevertheless, the governors were extremely important to r o y a l government for i n their provinces they were the pers.onal representatives of the k i n g . These men had to be chosen with care but i n a period of youthful kings and c i v i l war the choice was out of the king's hands i n some cases. The governorship of Guyenne was held by the r u l e r of Navarre throughout the century. 162 This increased the base of authority upon which that prince could act; i t extended the l i m i t s of his independence. The governor frequently resided outside his gouvernement and i n his absence lieutenants-general exercised royal authority. The king appointed these lieutenants-general but they owed a dual allegiance to king and governor. The application of the royal w i l l i n distant parts of the kingdom was hampered by the very distance and by the slowness of communications and c i v i l war only exaggerated such conditions. Boundaries of authority were very badly defined, both p o l i t i c a l l y and geographically and frequent clashes took place between different representatives of royal authority. The sale of offices raised some revenue but contributed to the entrenchment of o f f i c e r s i n positions which they exploited for their own benefit and from which i t was almost impossible to dislodge them. For this reason the king resorted increasingly to the use of commissions to carry out his orders at every l e v e l , a solution which increased not only his authority but his expenses. The Wars of Religion s p l i t the kingdom over r e l i g i o u s and p o l i t i c a l issues and the king was subjected to attack by extremists of both sides. The actions of l o y a l supporters of the crown could be just as detrimental to royal authority as those of enemies. Blaise de Monluc, lieutenant-general of the 163 k i n g i n Guyenne, a c t i n g o s t e n s i b l y to curb the t h r e a t to r o y a l a u t h o r i t y , i n t r i g u e d with -the k i n g of Spain and threatened t o t u r n over the p r o v i n c e of Guyenne to him. Doubtless t h i s f a c t c o n t r i b u t e d to C a t h e r i n e ' s r e l u c t a n c e to see Monluc appointed l i e u t e n a n t - g o v e r n o r . The same v a n i t y that made him r e s p o n s i v e to f l a t t e r y and reward made him s u s c e p t i b l e to i n t r i g u e . Not only were extreme C a t h o l i c s a t h r e a t but nobles committed to the Huguenot cause r e c r u i t e d thousands of s o l d i e r s i n the same p r o v i n c e . Recruitment and command of m i l i t a r y f o r c e s c o n t r i b u t e d to the a b i l i t y of a l o c a l strongman to act independently. He had the power to name c a p t a i n s and t o r a i s e men. S i n c e Monluc had a b r o t h e r , sons and son-in-law a l l commanding one or more companies, he had a v e r i t a b l e p r i v a t e army. Under those circumstances orders from the court were i n t e r p r e t e d with c o n s i d e r a b l e l a t i t u d e . L o c a l f o r c e s were at times marshalled e f f e c t i v e l y to oppose an unpopular r o y a l p o l i c y . When the c i t i z e n s of La R o c h e l l e opposed payment f o r the support of a g a r r i s o n i n the c i t y , they d i s p a t c h e d a d e l e g a t i o n to the court well-equipped with b r i b e money t o accomplish t h e i r purpose. Whether or not they achieved t h e i r g o a l , Jarnac r e p o r t e d that the men of the g a r r i s o n were reduced t o e a t i n g t h e i r horses before they disbanded and went 164 home. S i m i l a r l y the threat of a tax on export wine united the bourgeois, n o b i l i t y and .clergy of Bordeaux i n opposition. The king, however, frequently had the l a s t word i n f i n a n c i a l matters. In Guyenne one year the Estates voted a sum less than that asked on the pretext that inhabitants of parts of the province had already paid their quota. Therefore, Etienne Lemacon, the receiver general i n Guyenne was short. Charles IX insisted that the amount be raised i n spite of a l l opposition and that i t be furnished i n the meantime by Francois de L a v i l l e , a colleague of Lemacon.* In spite of so many threats royal government i n Guyenne was generally effective i n maintaining the king's authority. The energetic Monluc and such f a i t h f u l governors of c i t i e s as Noailles could pledge sincere allegiance to t h e i r monarch. The former practised swift r e t r i b u t i o n i n the form of hanging; the l a t t e r promoted personal recognition by the sovereign by sending detailed analyses of the need to the queen mother. Both these o f f i c e r s had brothers who were prominent bishops, of Valence and of Dax r e s p e c t i v e l y . The a b i l i t y to grant many e c c l e s i a s t i c a l offices lay i n the hands of the king and formed a small part of the patronage by which he was able to maintain his f a i t h f u l o f f i c e r s . The most powerful tool for the maintenance of royal Archives historique du departement de l a Gironde, V o l . I l l , No. LXXX (1861), 200-203. authority lay i n personal contact, personal appointment and personal reward by the king for those i n a position to further his w i l l . BIBLIOGRAPHY BIBLIOGRAPHY I . BIBLIOGRAPHICAL AIDS F r a n k l i n , A l f r e d Louis Auguste. Les sources de l ' h i s t o i r e de France: notices bibliographiques et analytiques des invent- a i r e s et des r e c u e i l s de documents r e l a t i f s a l ' h i s t o i r e de France ". P a r i s : L i b r a i r i e de Firmin-Didot et c i e . , 1877• Hauser, H e n r i . Les sources de l ' h i s t o i r e de France. X V I e si&cle . (1494-1610). 4v. P a r i s : P i c a r d , 1906-1915. The standard bibliography for sixteenth-century French h i s t o r y . Volume I I I , Les guerres de r e l i g i o n (1559-1589) i s invaluable for an assessment of the primary sources. L a s t e y r i e , Robert de, et a l . Bibliographie des travaux historiques et archeologiques publies par les societe's savantes de l a France". 6 v.. i n C o l l e c t i o n de documents inedits sur l ' h i s t o i r e de France. P a r i s ! Imprimerie nationale, 1888-1918. A l i s t of a r t i c l e s i n French scholarly journals arranged geographically; updated by Rene Gandilhon so that with the accompanying volumes of Bibliographie Annuelle i t includes works published to 1940. Monod, Gabriel Jacques Jean. Bibliographie de l ' h i s t o i r e de France. Catalogue methodique et chronologique des sources et des ouvrages r e l a t i f s a l ' h i s t o i r e de France depuis les origines jusqu'en 1789. P a r i s : Hachette, 1888. Saulnier, E . and A. Martin. Bibliographie des travaux publies de 1866 a 1897 sur l ' h i s t o i r e de France de 1500 a 1789. 271 P a r i s : Presses Universitaires de France, 1932-1938. S o c i l t l de l ' h i s t o i r e de France. Annuaire-bulletin . P a r i s , 1863- present. T i l l e y , Arthur. The Literature of the French Renaissance. 2v. Cambridge: University Press, 1904. Contains analyses of the style and content of many of the h i s t o r i e s and memoirs. II. PRINTED DOCUMENTS 168 A. Major Collections C o l l e c t i o n de documents inedits sur 1'histoire de France. Many v. P a r i s : I m p r i m e r i e nationale, l836ff . I n i t i a t e d by Guizot, minister of public i n s t r u c t i o n ; directed by the Comite des Travaux Historiques et Scientifiques since l 8 8 l . La F e r r i e r e , Hector, comte de and comte Gustave Baguenault de Puchesse, eds. Lettres de Catherine de M l d i c i s . l l v . 1880-1943. Very important source, v . I , II and X contain l e t t e r s of t h i s period; v. XI i s a general index; many l e t t e r s to o f f i c i a l s i n Guyenne and to such confidantes of the queen mother as Sebastien de l'Aubespine, bishop of Limoges and Ambassador to the court of P h i l i p I I . P a r i s , Antoine Louis, ed. N^gociations, l e t t r e s et pieces diverses r e l a t i v e s au regne de Francois I I , tire~es du p o r t e f e u i l l e de Sebastien de l'Aubespine, eve~que de Limoges, l84l~ Dispatches to and from the French ambassador i n Spain, 1559-1561. Tommaseo, Niccolo, ed. Relations des ambassadeurs venitiens sur les a f f a i r e s de France au XVI e siecle"! 2v. I838. O f f i c i a l reports; contains excellent descriptions and analyses of a f f a i r s at the French court. Michaud, Joseph Francois and Jean Joseph Poujoulat, eds. Nouvelle c o l l e c t i o n des memoires pour s e r v i r a 1*histoire de France, depuis le X I I I e s i e c l e jusqu'a l a , f i n du X V I I I e ; precede's~de notices pour caracteriser chaque auteur des memoires et son e"poque; s u i v i s de l'analyze des documents historiques qui s'y rapportent. Series I, 12v.; series I I , 10v.; series I I I , 10v.; 32v. i n a l l . P a r i s , I836-I839. Conde, Louis de Bourbon, prince de. Memoires du prince de Conde. Recueil des choses memorables f a i t e s et passees pour le f a i c t de l a r e l i g i o n et estat de ce royaume,• depuis l a mort du roy Henri II jusqu'en l'annee 1564. Ser. I, v. 6 . F i r s t compiled i n Orleans to show Conde's role i n suppressing the troubles; not unbiased. 169 Guise, Francois de Lorraine, due de. Memoires de Francois de Lorraine, due d'Aumale et de Guise, concernant les a f f a i r e s de France et les negociations avec l'Ecdsse, l ' l t a l i e et l'Allemagne, pendant les annees 15̂ 7 a 1561, publies sur les manuscrits originaux. Ser. I, v. V I . La Noue, Francois de. Memoires du sieur Francois de La Noue. Ser. I, v. IX. The author was a Breton Huguenot gentleman who fought at Dreux; remarkably i m p a r t i a l . P e t i t o t , Claude Bernard, Alexandre P e t i t o t , Louis Jean Nicolas Monmerque, et_ a l , eds. C o l l e c t i o n complete des memoires r e l a t i f s a l ' h i s t o i r e de France, depuis le regne de Philippe A u g u s t a . . . avec des notices sur chaque auteur, et des observations sur chaque ouvrage. 130v. i n 131. P a r i s : Foucault, 1S20-1829. Mergey, Jean sieur de. Memoires du Sieur Jean de Mergey, gentilhomme champenois. Ser. I, v. XXXIV. These memoirs begin i n 1562 when the author was serving under La Rochefoucauld; they are very b r i e f . . Tavannes, Gaspard de Saulx, seigneur de. Memoires de t r e s - noble et t r e s - i l l u s t r e Gaspard de Saulx, seigneur de Tavannes, mareschal de France, gouverneur de Provence, c o n s e i l l e r du roy, et capitaine de cent hommes d'armes. Ser. I, v. XXIII-XXV. Actually written by Jean de Saulx-Tavannes to honour his father; useful for the battle of Dreux. B. Other Documents Cabie, Edmond. Guerres de r e l i g i o n dans le sud-ouest de l a France et principalement dans le Quercy, d'apres les papiers des seigneurs de Saint-Sulpice de 1561 a 1390. A l b i : Imprimerie Noguies, 1906. Documents transcribed, helpful i n establishing i d e n t i t y and relationships of personnel. . Courteault, Paul. Commentaires de Blaise de Monluc, Marechal de France. 3v. P a r i s : Picard, 1911-1925. The d e f i n i t i v e edition of Monluc's commentaries; used ex- tensively i n t h i s study. 1 7 0 Francois, Michel, ed. Journal de l'anne'e 1 5 6 2 par Pierre de Paschal. Paris: H. Champion, 1950. . La Correspondence de Francois, Cardinal de Tournon, • 1 5 2 1 - 1 5 5 2 T Paris: H. Champion, 19^6. Not an important source for t h i s period. Isambert, Francois Andre, et_ _al, eds. Recueil gene"rale des anciennes l o i s francaises, depuis l'an 420 jusqu'a 1st revolution de 1 7 8 9 . Paris: L i b r a i r i e de Plon Freres 1 8 8 2 - ". 2 9 v . i n 24. Important edicts of the period under study are contained i n v. XIV ( 1 5 5 9 - 1 5 8 9 ) . "Journal de ce qui s'est passe en France durant I'annee 1 5 6 2 , principalement dans Paris et a l a cour," Revue retrospective, Ser. I, V, 8 1 - 1 1 6 , 1 6 8 - 2 1 2 ; 1 8 3 4 . Written by a Catholic gentleman at the court who enjoyed the confidence of Catherine de Medicis and the cardinal of Lorraine. Lot, Ferdinand. Recherches sur l e s e f f e c t i f s des armies francaises des guerres d ' l t a l i e au guerres de r e l i g i o n , 1 4 9 4 - 1 5 6 2 . P a r i s : S.E.V.P.E.N., 1 9 6 2 . : Contains documents showing size and type of forces, command and cost, Lublinskaja, Aleksandra Dmitrievna, ed. Documents pour s e r v i r a ' 1'histoire des guerres c i v i l e s en France, 156I- I 5 6 3 . Moscow: Akademia nauk SSSR, Institut i s t o r i i , 1 9 6 2 . Contains many l e t t e r s from high royal o f f i c i a l s to the court; a valuable source for t h i s study, Rochambeau, Eugene A c h i l l e Lacroix de Vimeux, comte de. Lettres d'Antoine de Bourbon et de Jehanne d'Albret. Paris: L i b r a i r i e . Renouard, 1 8 7 7 . ~' A major source for the king of Navarre, one of the key figures of the period. Ruble, Joseph Etienne Alphonse, baron de, ed. Comrnentaires et l e t t r e s de Blaise de Monluc. 5 v . Paris: L i b r a i r i e Renouard, 1 8 6 4 - 1 8 7 2 . This edition of the commentaries was not based on the best text and has been superseded by Courteault's; v. IV and V contain 1 7 5 l e t t e r s including such documents as the charter of a league at Agen and a statement of the m i l i t a r y expenses of Guyenne; v. IV i s a p a r t i c u l a r l y useful source. 171 S u r i a n o , M i c h e l e a n d M a r c A n t o n i o B a r b a r o . D i s p a t c h e s , I56O-I563, t r a n s l a t e d a n d e d i t e d by S i r H e n r y L a y a r d , i n The H u g u e n o t S o c i e t y o f L o n d o n , P u b l i c a t i o n s , V I , L y m i n t o n , I89I. T e x t a n d t r a n s l a t i o n ; S u r i a n o , N o v e m b e r , I56O t o N o v e m b e r , 1561; B a r b a r o , O c t o b e r , 1562 t o A u g u s t , 1563; some o f t h e c l e a r e s t a n a l y s e s o f e v e n t s a n d p e r s o n a l i t i e s a t t h e F r e n c h c o u r t . W i l k i n s o n , M a u r i c e , e d . " D o c u m e n t s i l l u s t r a t i n g t h e w a r s o f r e l i g i o n , 1569-1573," E n g l i s h H i s t o r i c a l R e v i e w , X X V I , 127- 138; J a n u a r y , 1911. D o c u m e n t s f r o m t h e " R e g i s t r e s s e c r e t e s du p a r l e m e n t de B o r d e a u x ; " o f i n t e r e s t f o r s o u r c e r a t h e r t h a n d a t e . I I I . HISTORIES BY CONTEMPORARIES A u b i g n e , A g r i p p a d ' . H i s t o i r e u n i v e r s e l l e . P u b l i c a t i o n o f t h e s o c i e t e de l ' h i s t o i r e de F r a n c e . E d i t e d by A l p h o n s e de R u b l e . l O v . P a r i s : R e n o u a r d , 1886-1909. C l e a r l y H u g u e n o t v i e w p o i n t y e t r e m a r k a b l y f a i r ; b o r r o w e d f r e e l y f r o m o t h e r a u t h o r s . B e z e , T h e o d o r e d e . H i s t o i r e e c c l e s i a s t i q u e d e s e g l i s e s r e f o r m e e s a u r o y a u m e de F r a n c e . E d i t e d by G . Baum a n d E . C u n i t z . B a s e d o n t h e o r i g i n a l e d i t i o n , I58O. 3v. P a r i s : F i s c h b a c h e r , 1883-1889. W r i t t e n f r o m P r o t e s t a n t p o i n t o f v i e w w i t h a p o l o g e t i c p u r p o s e ; l i k e d ' A u b i g n e , B e z e b o r r o w e d f r e e l y f r o m o t h e r h i s t o r i a n s . B r a n t o m e , P i e r r e de B o u r d e i l l e , s e i g n e u r d e . O e u v r e s c o m p l e t e s . P u b l i c a t i o n o f t h e s o c i e t e de l ' h i s t o i r e de F r a n c e . - E d i t e d by L u d o v i c L a l a n n e . l l v . P a r i s : R e n o u a r d , 1864-1882. C a t h o l i c w r i t e r ; v . X I i s a n i n d e x , e s s e n t i a l f o r p r o f i t - a b l e u s e o f t h i s f r a g m e n t e d w o r k . L a P o p e l i n i e r e , L a n c e l o t V o i s i n , s i e u r d e . L ' h i s t o i r e de F r a n c e e n r i c h i e d e s p l u s n o t a b l e s o c c u r r e n c e s s u r v e n u e s e s p r o v i n c e s de l ' E u r o p e e t p a y s v o i s i n s d e p u i s l ' a n 1550 j u s q u ' a c e s t e m p s . 3v. ( A r r a s ? ) 1582. T h o u , J a c q u e s A u g u s t d e . H i s t o i r e u n i v e r s e l l e d e p u i s 1543 j u s q u ' e n 1607, t r a d u i t s u r 1' e d i t i o n l a t i n e de L o n d r e s . I 6 v . L o n d o n : a n d P a r i s , 1734. P o l i t i q u e p o i n t o f v i e w ; g r e a t i n f l u e n c e on s u b s e q u e n t h i s t o r i e s o f t h e p e r i o d . 172 IV. GENERAL HISTORIES Lavisse, Ernest, ed. Histoire de France depuis ies origines jusqu'a l a r e v o l u t i o n . P a r i s : Hachette, 1 9 0 0 - 1 9 1 1 . The best general history of France; Volume V:2 (1519-1559) by Henry Lemonnier and volume VI:1 (1559-1598) by Jean H . Mariejol are u s e f u l . Mousnier, Roland. Les XVI® et X V I I e s i e c l e s , v. IV i n Maurice Crouzet, d i r e c t o r , Histoire generale des c i v i l i s a t i o n s . P a r i s : Presses Universitaires de F r a n c e ,I96I. Contains a good summary of Mousnier's view of French absolutism i n the sixteenth century. Romier, Lucien. History of France. Translated and completed by A . L . Rowse. New York: S t . Martin's Press, 1 9 5 3 . A good overview; too b r i e f to be useful for the period under study. •V. HISTORIES OF THE SIXTEENTH CENTURY AND OF THE WARS OF RELIGION Armstrong, Edward. The French Wars of R e l i g i o n , Their P o l i t i c a l Aspects. 2nd e d i t i o n ; Oxford: Blackwell, 1904. An expansion of three lectures; useful b r i e f synthesis. B a t t i f o l , L o u i s . The Century of the Renaissance, v. II i n The National History of France. Edited by F r . Funck-Brentano. 6v. Translated by E . F . Buckley. London: Heinemann, 1916. Well-written survey without documentation. Grant, Arthur James. A History of Europe from 1494 to 1610, v. V i n Methuen's History of Medieval and Modern Europe, London: Methuen, 1931. L i v e t , Georges. Les guerres de r e l i g i o n . Que sais-je ? P a r i s : Presses Universitaires de France, 1962. Helpful analysis i n b r i e f form. Neale, John. The Age of Catherine de Medicis. London: Cape, 1943. An expansion of a lecture series; people and issues of the Wars of Religion c l e a r l y i d e n t i f i e d . 173 Thompson, James W e s t f a l l . The Wars of Religion i n France, 1559- 1576; The Huguenots, Catherine de Medici:and P h i l i p I I . Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1909. S t i l l the standard work on the subject; considers p a r t i c u l a r - l y the diplomatic and economic aspects of the c i v i l wars. V I . BOOKS ON SPECIAL TOPICS A l l e n , J.W. A History of P o l i t i c a l Theory i n the Sixteenth Century. London: Methuen, 1957. F i r s t published 1928, reprinted with revised bibliography 1957. Champion, P i e r r e . La Jeunesse de Henri I I I . P a r i s : Bernard Grasset, 1941. Church, William F a r r . Constitutional Thought i n Sixteenth Century France, A Study i n the Evolution of Ideas, v. X i n Harvard H i s t o r i c a l Studies. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 19^1. Courteault, Paul. Blaise de Monluc, h i s t o r i e n ; e"tude c r i t i q u e sur l e texte et l a valeur historique des commentaires. P a r i s : Alphonse P i c a r d , 1908. E s s e n t i a l source for f i l l i n g the gaps and correcting errors i n Monluc's Commentaires; contains much helpful explanatory m a t e r i a l . . Un cadet de gascogne au X V I e s i e c l e , Blaise de Monluc. P a r i s : Alphonse P i c a r d , 1909. A biography based on the author's detailed study of the sources; b r i e f and lacking documentation. Croze, Joseph de. Les Guises, les Valois et Philippe I I . P a r i s : d'Amyot, 1866. Devic, dom Claude and dom Jean Joseph Vaissete. Histoire generale de Languedoc avec des notes et l e s pieces j u s t i f i c a t i v e s . I6v. Toulouse: E . P r i v o t , 1872-1904. Volume XI deals with Languedoc i n the sixteenth century; contains many documents useful for the events i n and near Toulouse which had a bearing on Haute-Guyenne. 174 Doucet, Roger. JStude sur le gouvernement de Francois Ier dans ses rapports avec le Parlement de P a r i s . 2v. P a r i s : Champion, 1921-1926. . Les i n s t i t u t i o n s de l a France au XVie s i e c l e . 2v. P a r i s : P i c a r d , 1948. Excellent description of o r i g i n and development of French i n s t i t u t i o n s ; helpful bibliography. Gigon, S. - C . La Revolte de l a gabelle en Guyenne, 1548-1549. P a r i s : Honore Champion, 190o. Useful for observing the continuity of c o n f l i c t and concern for p r o v i n c i a l prerogatives. Grant, Arthur James. The French Monarchy, 1483-1789. i n Cambridge H i s t o r i c a l Series, George W. Prothero, ed. 2v. Cambridge: University Press, 1900. Hale, John Rigby, e_t a l , ed. Europe i n the Late Middle Ages. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1965* Contains two good a r t i c l e s l i s t e d below on France i n the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. H e r i t i e r , Jean. Catherine de M e d i c i . Charlotte Haldane, trans. London: George A l l e n and Unwin L t d . , 1963* Translated from Catherine de Medicis. P a r i s : Artheme Fayard, 1959. The author interprets Catherine's p o l i t i c a l aims i n terms of "Machiavellism." Imbart de l a Tour, P i e r r e . Les origines de l a reforme. 4v. Paris Hachette, 1905-1935. Jensen, De Lemar. Diplomacy and Dogmatism: Bernardino de Mendoza and the French Catholic League. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1964. K e l l y , Caleb G. French Protestantism 1559-1562. Ser. XXXVI, No. 4 i n Johns Hopkins University Studies i n H i s t o r i c a l and P o l i t i c a l Science. Baltimore: The Johns Hopkins Press, 1918. Emphasizes economic factors; of interest regarding origins of leagues. Kingdon, Robert McCune. Geneva and the Coming of the Wars of Religion i n France, 1555-1565"! v.22 i n Travaux d'humanisme et renaissance. Geneva: E . Droz, 1956. Invaluable for Protestant m i l i t a r y organization and p a r t i c u l a r l y for the r e l a t i o n of the Geneva Company of Pastors to the Huguenot movement i n France. 175 Kingdon, Robert McCune. Geneva and the Consolidation of the French Protestant Movement, 1564-1572; a contribution to the history of Congregationalism, Presbyterianism and C a l v i n i s t resistance theory. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, Good bibliography. Leonard, Emile G. H i s t o i r e generale du protestantisme. 3 v . P a r i s : Presses U n i v e r s i t a i r e s de F r a n c e , 1 9 6 1 . v. I, La Reformation, i s useful; v. I I , L'Etablissement, 1 5 6 4 - 1 7 0 0 , contains a good section on Calvinism i n France. Le Patourel, John. "The King and the Princes i n Fourteenth Century France," i n John R. Hale, et a l , ed. Europe i n the Late Middle Ages. Evanston: Northwestern University Press, 1965. Lewis, P. S. "France i n the Fifteenth Century: Society and Sovereignty," i n John R. Hale, et a l , ed. Europe i n the Late Middle Ages. Evanston: Northwestern University P r e s s , 1 9 6 5 . Major, James R u s s e l l . The Deputies to the Estates General i n Renaissance France. No. 21 i n Studies presented to the Inter- national Commission for the History of Representative and Parliamentary I n s t i t u t i o n s . Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, i 9 6 0 . . The Estates General of I56O. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1 9 5 1 . . Representative Institutions i n Renaissance France, T 5 2 I - I 5 5 9 . No. 22 i n Studies presented to the International Commission for the History of Representative and Parliamentary I n s t i t u t i o n s . Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, i 9 6 0 . M a r i e j o l , Jean Hippolyte. Catherine de Medicis. Paris: Hachette, 1920. Mousnier, Roland. Etat et societe sous Francois Ier et pendant le gouvernement personnel de Louis XIV. Les Cours de Sorbonne. H i s t o i r e Moderne et Contemporaine• P a r i s : Centre de document- ation u n i v e r s i t a i r e , 1966. P a r t i c u l a r l y good for government, society and customs, 1 5 1 5 - 1 5 4 7 . 176 Mousnier, Roland. Etudes sur l a France au XVTe s i e c l e . 2 p t i e . Les Cours de Sorbonne. Histoire Moderne et Contemporaine. Paris: Centre de documentation u n i v e r s i t a i r e , 1959* Good treatment of the development of royal government under Francis I and Henry II; more d e t a i l on f i n a n c i a l i n s t i t u t i o n s than-others. . E t u d e s sur l a France de 1494-1559• Les Cours de Sorbonne. Histoire Moderne et Contemporaine. Paris: Centre de documentation u n i v e r s i t a i r e , 1964. - . La venalite des o f f i c e s sous Henri IV et Louis XIII. Rouen: Maugard,1945. The standard work on t h i s topic; focuses on a l a t e r period but useful for studying development of venality. Pages, Georges, ed. E t u d e s sur 1'histoire administrative et sociale de l'ancien r e g i m e " P a r i s : F e l i x Alcan, 1938. Chiefly concerned with the l a t e r years of the ancien regime. Palm, Franklin Charles. The Establishment of French Absolutism, 1574-1610. New York: F. S. Crofts, 1928. . P o l i t i c s and Religion i n Sixteenth-century France; A Study of the Career of Henry of Montmorency-Damville, Uncrowned • King of the South. Boston: Ginn, 1927. Picot, Georges. Histoire des etats generaux consideres au point de vue de leur influence sur le gouvernement de l a France de 1355- 1614. 2nd e d i t i o n . 5v. Paris: Hachette, 1888. Romier, Lucien. La carriere d'un f a v o r i , Jacques d'Albon de Saint- Andre, Margchai de France, 1512-1562. Paris: Perrin, 1909. Excellent example of the r i s e of a l o y a l c l i e n t of Henry I I . Catholiques et huguenots a l a cour de Charles IX, 1560- 15o*2. Paris: Perrin, 1924. . La Conjuration d'Amboise. Paris: Perrin, 1923. . Les origines politiques des guerres de r e l i g i o n . 2v. P a r i s : Perrin, 1913-1914. Le royaume de Catherine de Medicis; La France a l a v e i l l e des guerres de r e l i g i o n . 2v. Paris: Perrin, 1922. 177 Ruble, Joseph Etienne Alphonse, baron de. Antoine de Bourbon et Jeanne d'Albret, suite de le mariage de~Jeanne d'Albret"! 4v. P a r i s : Adolphe L a b i t t e , 1881-1886. v. II-IV deal with the period from the death of Henry II to the death of Antoine de Bourbon; the extensive pieces j u s t i f i c a t i v e s i n each volume are the most helpful aspect of t h i s work e.g. for the influence of P h i l i p II on the king of Navarre. . Jeanne d'Albret et l a guerre c i v i l e . P a r i s : L i b r a i r e s de l a bibliotheque nationale, 1897, ~* 1~. v. I deals with the period under study; again the documents are helpful for events in Guyenne. Sutherland, N. M. The French Secretaries of State i n the Reign of Catherine de Medici, v. X i n University of London H i s t o r i c a l Studies. London: Athlone Press, 1962. Excellent account of the l i v e s of these important o f f i c e r s . Van Dyke, P a u l » Catherine de Medicis. 2v. London: Murray, 1923* Weber, Bernerd Clarke. "The Diplomatic Relations between France and Spain during the Reign of Charles IX (1560-157*+)." Un- published Doctoral d i s s e r t a t i o n , University of C a l i f o r n i a , Berkeley, 1935. Very useful source since r e l a t i o n s with Spain were p a r t - i c u l a r l y s i g n i f i c a n t for royal government i n Guyenne. W e i l l , Georges. Les theories sur le pouvoir r o y a l en France pendant les guerres de r e l i g i o n . P a r i s : Hachette, 1891. Z e l l e r , Gaston. Aspects de l a politique frangaise sous l ' a n c i e n regime. P a r i s ! P r e s s e s u n i v e r s i t a i r e s de France,1964. C o l l e c t i o n of Z e l l e r ' s a r t i c l e s published i n various journals between 1919 and i960; includes the a r t i c l e on the governors of provinces. . Les i n s t i t u t i o n s de l a France au XVie s i e c l e . P a r i s : . Presses u n i v e r s i t a i r e s de France, 1948. Excellent b r i e f survey. 178 VII. PERIODICAL LITERATURE Armstrong, Edward. "The p o l i t i c a l theory of the Huguenots," English H i s t o r i c a l Review, IV (January, 1889),. 13-40. Baguenault de Puchesse. "La p o l i t i q u e de Philippe II dans les a f f a i r e s de France, 1559-1598," Revue des questions historiques, XXV (January, 1879), 5-66. Dupont-Ferrier, Gustave. "Ignorances et distractions administr- atives en France aux XIVe et XVe s i e c l e s , " Bibliotheque de l ' e c o l e des chartes, C (1939), 145-156. Furgeot, Henri. "L'alienation des biens du c l e r g l sous Charles IX," Revue des questions historiques, XXIX ( A p r i l , l88l), 428-490. Hamilton, Blanche. "Paris under the last Valois kings," English H i s t o r i c a l Review, I ( A p r i l , 1886), 260-276. Hartung, F . and Roland Mousnier. "Quelques problemes concernant l a monarchie absolue," Relazioni del X congresso internazionale d i scienze s t o r i c h e , IV, S t o r i a Moderna (Florence, 1955), 1-55. Hauser, H e n r i . "Antoine de Bourbon et l'Allemagne, 1560-1561," Revue historique, XLV (January-April, 1891), 54-61. . "De l'humanisme et de l a rlforme en France, 1512-1552," Revue historique, LXIV (May-August, 1897), 258-297. . "The European F i n a n c i a l C r i s i s of 1559," Journal of Economic and Business History, II (February, 1930), 241-255. . "The French Reformation and the French People i n the Sixteenth Century," American H i s t o r i c a l Review, IV (January, 1899), 217-227. . "Sur 1•authenticite des Discours de La Noue," Revue h i s t o r i q u e , LIII (September-December, 1893), 301-311. Koenigsberger, H. G. "Review of N. M. Sutherland, The French Secretaries of State i n the Reign of Catherine de Medicis," English H i s t o r i c a l Review, • LXXIX 11964), 114-116. La F e r r i e r e - P e r c y , Hector de Masso, comte de. "Catherine de Medicis et les P o l i t i q u e s , " , Revue des questions historiques, LVI (October, 1894), 404-439. 179 " L e t t r e s patentes de C h a r l e s IX pour l e paiement, au moyen d'un virement, des gages a r r i e r e s des vice-senechaux de Guyenne et des gardes de MM. de Burye et de Monluc," A r c h i v e s h i s t o r i q u e du departement de l a Gironde, v. I l l (l86l), No. LXXX, 200-203» Major, James R u s s e l l . "The Crown and the A r i s t o c r a c y i n Renaissance F r a n c e , " American H i s t o r i c a l Review, LXIX:3 ( A p r i l , 1964), 630-646. "Payment of the Deputies to the French N a t i o n a l Assemblies, 1*4^4-1627," J o u r n a l of Modern H i s t o r y , XXVII (1955), 217-279. . "The T h i r d E s t a t e i n the E s t a t e s - G e n e r a l of P o n t o i s e , " Speculum, XXXIX (1954), 460-474. M e r c i e r , C h a r l e s . "Les t h e o r i e s p o l i t i q u e s des C a l v i n i s t e s en France au cours des guerres de r e l i g i o n , " B u l l e t i n de l a s o c i e t e d e ' 1 1 h i s t o i r e du P r o t e s t a n t i s m e f r a n c a i s , LXXXIII ( A p r i l - J u n e , July-September, 1934), 225-260; 381-415. Pages, Georges. "La venalite" des o f f i c e s dans l'ancienne F r a n c e , " Revue h i s t o r i q u e , CLXIX (1932), 477-495. P a i l l a r d , C h a r l e s H i p p o l y t e . " A d d i t i o n s c r i t i q u e s a 1 ' h i s t o i r e de l a c o n j u r a t i o n d'Amboise," Revue h i s t o r i q u e , XIV (September- December, 1880), 61-108; 311-355. Contains a b s t r a c t s of the correspondence of Chantonnay, the S p a n i s h ambassador i n France, w i t h Marguerite of Parma. Perroy, Edouard. "Feudalism or P r i n c i p a l i t i e s i n F i f t e e n t h Century F r a n c e , " i n U n i v e r s i t y of London, B u l l e t i n of the I n s t i t u t e of H i s t o r i c a l Research, XX:6l (1945), 181-185. Romier, Jean B a p t i s t e L u c i e n . "Les p r o t e s t a n t s f r a n c a i s e s a l a v e i l l e des guerres c i v i l e s , " Revue h i s t o r i q u e , CXXXIV (January- A p r i l , 1917), 1-51; 225-286. Van Dyke, P a u l . " F r a n c o i s de Guise and the t a k i n g of C a l a i s , " Annual Report of the American H i s t o r i c a l A s s o c i a t i o n f o r t h e Year 1911, 1,(1913), 101-107. Weiss, N o e l . "La maison de L o r r a i n e et l a reforme en France au XVie s i e c l e , " B u l l e t i n de l a s o c i e t e de 1 ' h i s t o i r e du P r o t e s t a n t i s m e f r a n c a i s , LVII (January-February, 1908), 316- 180 Z e l l e r , Gaston. "L*administration monarchique avant les intendants, Parlements et Gouverneurs,'* Revue historique, CXCVII ( 1 9 4 7 ) , 1 8 0 - 2 1 5 . . "Gouverneurs des provinces au XVI e s i e c l e , " Revue historique, CLXXXV ( 1 9 3 9 ) , 2 2 5 - 2 5 6 . 
work_o6jhzbypjjdfph2ovtzjkyy2yi	----	FRANCE MAKES HISTORY: THE EXPOSITION DES PRIMITIFS FRANQAIS AND THE THIRD REPUBLIC by MOIRA FRANCES STEVEN B.A., Sir George Williams University, 1972 Diploma, Art History, The University of British Columbia, 1991 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (DEPARTMENT OF FINE ARTS) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITIS^Ft'dOLUMBIA April 1995 © Moira Frances Steven, 1995 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make it freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. ~ . . , F i n e A r t s Department of ^ _ The University of British Columbia Vancouver, Canada D a t e A p r i l 27, 1995 DE-6 (2/88) ABSTRACT The Exposition des Primitifs frangais opened in the Pavilion de Marsan at the Louvre in 1904, with over 700 paintings, drawings, enamels, sculptures and manuscripts assembled there from French and international collections, both private and public. The exhibition, organized by the most prominent curators, academics and administrators in the Beaux- Arts community, attempted to rewrite French art historical canon by arguing that a heretofore overlooked School of French Primitive art, particularly paintings, had spanned the gap between the acknowledged highpoints of High Gothic sculptural and architectural production and the emergence of the so-called Golden Age of French art in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Organized partly in response to claims of Flemish artistic supremacy at the 1902 Exposition des Primitifs flamands at Bruges, the French primitifs were positioned in their 'genius' as parallel to and contemporary with Flemish and Italian early renaissance developments and as a national school equally deserving of academic, aesthetic and historical consideration. This exhibition, however, must be considered in the context of shifting discourses and contemporary events. The exhibition's Catalogue Definitif provides a field for diverse readings of these events and strategies and forms a central part of the analysis and argument. Through an examination of the language choices and focus of the Catalogue's rhetoric, as well as the structure of its argument, this thesis links the exhibition's claims to the contemporary political environment, specifically around Republican issues of a national identity defined in terms of language and culture, as well as issues of immigration and perceived threats to national integrity; Republican attempts to reestablish a distinct political position between the emerging Left and Right; and a reappropriation of the 'primitif from competing national claims and emerging avantgardist definitions. \ TABLE OF CONTENTS Abstract ii Table of Contents iv List of Illustrations v Acknowledgement vii INTRODUCTION 1 Chapter One The 'Event' 20 Chapter Two Catalogue as Representation 39 Chapter Three Representation as 'Catalogue' 59 Chapter Four Perception and Reception: Responses 91 to the Exposition des Primitifs frangais Conclusion 116 Illustrations 121 Bibliography 148 Appendix 1 Content Analysis of the Exposition des Primitifs 169 frangais Appendix 2 Chart of Exhibitions 1878 - 1904 172 Appendix 3 Component Parts of the Catalogue Definitif of the 176 Exposition des Primitifs frangais iv LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS Figure Page 1. Plan of the Louvre 121 2. Facade of the Pavilion de Marsan, northwest corner 122 of the Musee du Louvre on the Rue de Rivoli 3. Catalogue Definitif - Title Page of the Catalogue 123 4. Catalogue Definitif - Advertising page for the Librairie 124 Centrale des Beaux-Arts, no page 5. Catalogue Definitif - Endpaper, no page 125 6. Catalogue Definitif - Administration, page V 126 7. Catalogue Definitif - Administration, pages VI and VII 127 8. Catalogue Definitif - Administration, pages VIII and IX 128 9. Catalogue Definitif - Introduction, page XI 129 10. Catalogue Definitif - Title Page of the Oeuvres Exposees au 130 Palais Du Louvre, no page 11. Catalogue Definitif - Peintures et Dessins section, page 1 131 12. Catalogue Definitif - Title Page of the Oeuvres Exposees a 132 la Bibliotheque Nationale, no page 13. Catalogue Definitif - Avis ['Notice', or Introduction] to 133 the Manuscrits a Peintures section, page 5 14. Catalogue Definitif - Manuscrits a Peintures section, 134 pages 8 and 9 15. Jean Fouquet, The Melun Diptych, right wing (La Vierge et 135 I'Enfant), c. 1450. 16. Nicolas Froment, Le Buisson Ardent, 1475-76 136 Figure Page 17. Enguerrand Charonton, La Triomphe de la Vierge Marie, 1453. 137 18. Ecole de Nicolas Froment, Pieta, avec saint Jean, la Vierge, 138 la Madeleine et un donateur, 1470?. 19. Le Peintre des Bourbons, called Le Maitre de Moulins, Saint 139 Victor et donateur, c. 1480. 20. Jean Fouquet, Portrait de Charles Vll, c. 1445. 140 21. Ecole de Nicolas Froment, Miracle d'un Saint portant sa 141 fete dans ses mains en presence des donateurs, c. 1480. 22. Jean Malouel, Martyre de saint Denis, c. 1400. 142 23. Le Peintre de Bourbons, dit Le Maitre de Moulins, La Vierge 143 et I'Enfant-Jesus avec quatre anges, c. 1490. 24. Jean Fouquet, The Melun Diptych, left wing (Etienne Chevalier 144 c. 1450. 25. Ecole de Paris, Altarpiece of the Parlement de Paris 145 (called Le Calvaire), c. 1450 26. Girard d'Orleans, Portrait de Jean le Bon, c. 1380. 146 27. Ecole d'Artois (Le Maitre de Flemalle), L'Adoration des Bergers, 147 c. 1430. vi ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS My thanks and appreciation to all those who helped in the 'process': To the Interlibrary Loan Department staff - for their unfailing good humour, astonishing speed and diligent attempts to locate obscure information from less than precise sources, To Maureen Ryan and Carol Knicely - for their encouragement, good advice and expansive ideas and for seeing what I wanted to say, To my friends, both here at UBC and elsewhere, and especially to Laura and Joanna - for their love, patience and encouragement, To Joanne - for her sisterly support and love, even from 2,000 miles away, and To my parents - for their support and love, and for not questioning, even when they didn't really understand what all this was about. vii INTRODUCTION The national culture is a repository, inter alia, of classificatory systems. It allows "us" to define ourselves against "them" understood as those beyond the boundaries of the nations. It may also reproduce distinctions between "us" and "them" at the intra-national level, in line with the internal structure of social divisions and relations of power and domination. The elaboration of national identity is a chronic process. Of considerable importance is the relationship between the present of a national collectivity and its past. That relationship should be understood, at least in part, as an imaginary one, mediated by the continual, selective reconstitution of "traditions" and of "social memory". These categories direct our attention to the role of cultural institutions and practices through which the chain of identity between past and present is forged. It also requires us to consider the special role of cultural producers as active constructors of national identity.1 At 9:30 a.m. on the morning of April 12, 1904, M. Henri Marcel, the Director of Fine Arts, acting on behalf of the Minister of Public Education, opened the Exposition des Primitifs frangais in the Pavilion de Marsan wing of the Musee du Louvre and its companion exhibit at the Bibliotheque Nationale. This grandly staged exhibition of over 700 works was meant to display an ongoing legacy of great French art in the era from the late fourteenth to the mid-sixteenth century. It was scheduled to run for three months, closing on the highly symbolic date of July 14, 19042, just before the Pavilion and the adjacent wing were to be reopened as the Musee des Arts decoratifs in 19053. This exhibition focused primarily on paintings and drawings, but also included sculpture, tapestries and other 'Philip Schlesinger, "On national identity: some conceptions and misconceptions criticized," Social Science 26,2 (1987): 264. Emphasis in original. Journal des Debats, Thursday, April 7, 1904: 2. 3Yvan Christ, Le Louvre et les Tuileries: Histoire Architecturale d'un double Palais (Paris: Les Editions «Tel», 1949): 130; and Jacques Hillairet JAuguste Andre Coussillan], Le Palais des Tuileries: Le Palais Royal et Imperial et Son Jardin ([Paris]: Les Editions de Minuit, [1965]): 100. 1 objects as 'supporting documentation'.4 Emphasizing primarily portraiture (or works claimed as portraiture) this exhibition promoted a school of French art that spanned the period between the great architectural achievements of the thirteenth century when France was renowned as the centre of the International Gothic style and the so-called classical period of French art beginning with the sixteenth century School of Fontainebleau. Those intervening centuries had long been perceived as a lacuna in the French art production, a gap which this exhibition intended to fill. In just two years Henri Bouchot, Conservateur du Departement des Estampes at the Bibliotheque Nationale, together with six prominent curators and specialists from the Institut Frangais, the Musee du Louvre and other prestigious institutions, had assembled works from private and public collections in France and from as far away as Berlin and Glasgow. They even went to great lengths to 'harvest' regional museums, distant churches and monasteries, and even government offices for little-known works to support the exhibition's claims.5 Organizers prepared at least two catalogues to accompany the exhibition: the Catalogue Definitif and a special edition Catalogue; both contained an introductory essay by Georges Lafenestre, the Conservateur des Peintures at the Louvre, and descriptive entries for all pieces exhibited, edited by Henri Bouchot, Conservateur du Departement des Estampes at the Bibliotheque Nationale. The exhibition and its catalogues made 4 Les Primitifs Frangais exposes au Pavilion de Marsan et a la Bibliotheque Nationale, Catalogue definitif (Paris: La Comite de I'Exposition des Primitifs francais): 107. Hereinafter referred to as Catalogue Definitif. 5Henri Bouchot, "L'exposition des primitifs frangais: Avant-propos," Gazette des beaux-arts Series 3,31, 562 (April 1904): 267. Hereinafter referred to as Bouchot, "...Avant-propos." 2 specific and overt claims that these art works in the period from the fourteenth to the sixteenth century comprised a significant, singularly French artistic production, an important part of the evolution of an original national 'genius', later overcome and subsumed by the influence of Italianate schools in the mid-sixteenth century. Thus it was positioned in opposition to traditional assertions of the supremacy of the Netherlandish and Italian schools of the same period. The exhibition and its catalogues asserted unequivocally that these heretofore ignored French Primitives had in fact influenced Flemish artistic developments of the fifteenth century, rather than the reverse and more commonly held belief that the Flemish themselves had originated the northern stylistic tradition. In fact, the exhibition dared to suggest that there had been a French Renaissance (or, as Bouchot and Lafenestre preferred to describe it, a continuing development) parallel to, or even preceding the classical revivals of the Italian Renaissance. The concept of a linear development of artistic practice was a given in academic and connoisseurship discussions of this period. Long before the science of evolution had circulated during the mid-nineteenth century, the ideas of a linkage between artistic movements and of progressive artistic development from pre-historical to modern times had become part of art historical practice and the conceptualization of the art historical canon; scholars sought in contemporary objects their roots in the past acknowledged 'masters'. Deviations in style were accounted for by theories about the melding of disparate traditions, or in the 'overpowering' of one tradition by another. From at least the mid-eighteenth century, the Renaissance (Italian, that is) had been epitomised as the 3 beginning of the modem period's reclamation of classical knowledge superseding the 'ignorance' of the so-called Dark and Middle Ages when perspective and anatomy had been forgotten. And from that point on, cultural evolution had been seen as an unchallenged straight line forward to the present day. In the later eighteenth century a rival school of thought extolled the virtues of an indigenous Northern European style, suggesting that, during the late fifteenth century, the independent development of a rival mode of expression from Netherlandish sources had blended a Northern sense of immediacy, naturalism and realism with an Italian sense of perspective and proportion to produce the great developments of the sixteenth and later centuries, epitomised by artists such as Jan van Eyck. Paralleling the growth of nationalistic ideologies in the last half of the nineteenth century, however, was a further fractioning of this Northern stream into German, Flemish and Netherlandish styles, just as the overall 'Italian' sobriquet had been divided into Florentine, Venetian, Roman, etc. The Northern sub-styles overlapped and re-divided into multiple style groups geographically based around cities or under specific ruling groups. At the start of the twentieth century, these dual streams of Italian and Netherlandish art were accepted by scholars, collectors and artists alike as the basis and origin of all contemporary European art and historical analysis. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais, however, broke from this seamless history. Georges Lafenestre and Henri Bouchot presented a new theory: namely that, from Roman architectural sources through to the images produced in the so-called Dark Ages and the later magnificence of Gothic cathedrals and manuscript illuminations flowed a single (French) line of evolution and creative development leading up to "a more natural and free 4 Renaissance..., a Renaissance above all more national, more spontaneous, and which bloomed effortlessly, joyously, as a wildflower, naive and fresh and in its own time, from the strong stem of secular tradition."6 In their argument, Flemish art and its related schools in Germany were viewed as merely offshoots of the central French stalk of artistic development. In comparison with French originality, the Italian Renaissance was simply "a sizable imitation of antiquity badly translated by the decadent Italians"7. The French, they claimed, thus had preeminence over the Italians, Belgians, and Germans, for in French art there had been no 'dark ages,' but a subtle and steadfast continuation of the Golden Age of Greece tied directly through to the Golden Age of France. Importantly, this French 'Renaissance' was not rooted in the Church - the emphasis on 'secular' in the above quotation cannot be clearer. In discussing this revisionist history, Lafenestre set up a series of polarities, such as court and nation; aristocratic and popular; forced and natural, which delineated France's art production in the formative years of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries as a national, secular, popular (i.e., non- aristocratic) and naturalistically based art, exactly the kind of art production which the governing Republicans were themselves promoting in 1904. The Exposition des primitifs frangais, then, asserted the supremacy and continuity of French art production by extending its authority back from the Classical period of the seventeenth century to the end of the High Gothic to bridge a gap in the French art ^Catalogue Definitif, XXI: "...Renaissance plus naturelle et plus libre..., Renaissance plus nationale surtout, plus spontanee, et s'epanouissant sans efforts, joyeusement, comme une fleur de terroir, naive et fraiche, sortie, en sa juste saison, de la tige robuste des traditions seculaires." 7Catalogue Definitif, XXI: "...fondee sur une imitation materielle de I'antiquite mal traduite par les decadents italiens...." 5 historical continuum. What my thesis also argues is that this exhibition was a product of and produced within a framework of other discourses which concerned issues such as the identity of France, the reassertion of a Republicanism situated between polarizing political positions, and the reappropriation of the 'primitif from both an emerging avant- garde definition and alternative national interpretations. Central to this positioning was the articulation of a particular 'Frenchness', both in national and international terms. Through the medium of art and art historical discussion a specific formulation of 'France' was written for a bourgeois, 'French' viewing public. In completing this analysis I work primarily with the text of the principal catalogue to show how the arguments presented in its introductory essay and the entries worked in conjunction with the images to reconstitute the art historical canon. The paintings and drawings, individually and collectively, were arranged in a particular order and the text re- framed them with particular inferences arising from that imposed order. In the context of this exhibition they worked together: the text inscribed meaning in conjunction with these images, largely unfamiliar to the exhibition's public; however, the text conveyed the exhibition's 'message', even without the supporting documentation provided by the images themselves. In other words, the images were in some senses secondary to and supportive of the textual construction surrounding them; the text had (and has) a separate and independent circulation that constructed meanings outside the experience and physical boundaries of the exhibition. An examination of this exhibition, its construction, representation and milieu provokes a series of questions: Why was this exhibition held? What differentiates this 6 exhibition from others in this period? What is worth noting about this particular collection exhibited at this time? Why were the fundamental claims about the primacy of French cultural production made in this exhibition being asserted (or reasserted) in 1904? What was the climate which supported collecting so many works of art into one location? To what end and to whose benefit was this event contemplated? The position and function of this thesis then is to deconstruct the events surrounding the exhibition to reveal the structures and forces implicated in the creation of the exhibition and to discover why this event was so thoroughly discussed, debated and yet is now comparatively unmentioned. The very few works that have discussed this exhibition have approached it primarily as a French response to the rising and conflicting claims of nationalism being made in Europe in the later years of the nineteenth century and the pre-World War I period.8 Analysis of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais can move beyond the purely nationalistic and externally focused enterprise it has been made out to be by these historians only by investigating the wider and more complexly defined milieu surrounding the exhibition. In addition, it is also valuable to consider some of the contradictory and complementary issues surrounding the idea of 'the exhibition', the 'history' it was trying to re/write, and the function of the written documentation as accompaniment to and residue of an 8Charles Rosen and Henri Zerner, "The Recovery of the Past and the Modern Tradition," Romanticism and Realism: The Mythology of Nineteenth Century An (London and Boston: Faber and Faber Limited, 1984); and Francis Haskell, History and its Images: Art and the Interpretation of the Past (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1993) are the only two works I have discovered in the course of my research which discuss this exhibition in any detail. Haskell in particular frames his argument around the discussion of the claims of a 1902 Belgian exhibition, the Exposition des Primitifs flamands, and posits the Paris exhibition as a response to those claims and other comments about French stewardship of their own national, cultural heritage. While this is certainly a worthwhile element to this discussion, more layers than these need to be explored. 7 e p h e m e r a l a n d t e m p o r a l l y l o c a t e d event, o c c u r r i n g in a s p e c i f i c p l a c e a n d at a s p e c i f i c t i m e . T h i s t h e s i s , t h e n , offers the following a r g u m e n t s . First, t h e exhibition itself w a s p o s i t i o n e d within a n o n g o i n g s e r i e s of 'nationalistic' art exhibitions o c c u r r i n g f r o m t h e m i d - n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y o n , but e x t e n d e d t h e g e n r e of r e t r o s p e c t i v e a n d s t a n d - a l o n e e x h i b i t i o n s e v e n further with its c l a i m s of national e x c e l l e n c e . It a t t e m p t e d t o rewrite w h a t w a s p r e v i o u s l y a c c e p t e d ; in other w o r d s , the d i d a c t i c c o n t e n t of e x h i b i t i o n s h a d shifted f r o m s u p p o r t i n g t h e ' k n o w n ' to c l a i m i n g the ' u n k n o w n ' . S e c o n d , t h e exhibition o c c u r r e d within a n d w a s f r a m e d a r o u n d s p e c i f i c c o n t e m p o r a r y e v e n t s a n d o p i n i o n s . B y d e c o n s t r u c t i n g t h e rhetorical d e v i c e s a n d a l l u s i o n s u s e d in t h e t e x t s , w o r d a n d i m a g e , w h i c h c o m p r i s e d the d i s c o u r s e s s u r r o u n d i n g the exhibition, I a s s e r t that, t h r o u g h the m e d i u m of t h e exhibition a n d its c a t a l o g u e , t h e c u r a t o r s w e r e in f a c t d i s c u s s i n g c o n t e m p o r a r y political e v e n t s , b o t h internal a n d external to F r a n c e , a n d t h e e x h i b i t i o n ' s s t a n c e for this s c h o o l of F r e n c h art f o r m e d b o t h a r e t r o s p e c t i v e r e d r e s s i n g a n d c o r r e c t i o n of a n art history p e r c e i v e d a s faulty a n d a s a c o m m e n t a r y o n p r e s e n t political situations a n d i s s u e s . T h e i m p a c t of F l e m i s h immigration o n the n o r t h w e s t b o r d e r s a n d o n g o i n g t e n s i o n with Italy o v e r F r e n c h efforts to s e c u l a r i z e t h e e d u c a t i o n a l s y s t e m , for e x a m p l e , a r e i m p l i c a t e d in t h e a r g u m e n t s p r e s e n t e d in the d i s c o u r s e c o n s t r u c t e d b y Exposition des Primitifs frangais to d e v a l u e , or rather d i m i n i s h the Italian a n d F l e m i s h c l a i m s to a 'primitif a n d R e n a i s s a n c e art p r o d u c t i o n . T h e exhibition t h u s c o u c h e d c o n t e m p o r a r y situations a n d beliefs in a R e p u b l i c a n interpretation of historical i m a g e s . 8 My third argument considers how the art historical contentions of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais can be seen as a Janus-faced and paradoxical attempt, on the one hand to reassert a centrality and supremacy of established art historical institutions amid a perceived dispersal and therefore weakening of the authoritative voice of the Paris/Louvre/ institutional paradigm, while on the other to propose an ultimately radical theory of French art production in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. The art historical and curatorial endeavour of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais extended beyond the exhibition to affect the entire conception of European art history - simultaneously radicalizing its content by advancing a French primitif in opposition to accepted Italian and Flemish genealogies, while at the same time reinforcing the centrality of French academic and museum institutions. The focus of this thesis, therefore, is not to re-argue the merits, or lack thereof, of the theories presented in favour of and against the 'rehabilitation' of a school of French Primitives. Rather, it is to examine why such arguments occurred at that specific time and the reasons for the vehemence and incidence of them. Why, in other words, did this exhibition occur when and how it did? To what end was it organized and what was the outcome or result or effect of the claims made there? To this end it is important to note that Henri Bouchot, Georges Lafenestre and their colleagues intended the Exposition des Primitifs frangais as a reply to a Bruges exhibition of 1902, the Exposition des Primitifs f/amands.9 The official catalogue of the Belgian ^he exhibition title is variously recorded (as is the Exposition des Primitifs frangais), but for consistency i will stay with Exposition des Primitifs flamands, as it was referred to in the French press. The exhibition ran for three and half months (from June to September 1902, extended by two weeks due to demand) and attracted some 35,000 visitors and a wide response in journals arid newspapers, according to Weale's article (W.H. James Weale, "The Early Painters of the Netherlands as illustrated by the Bruges Exhibition of 1902 [2 parts]," Burlington Magazine 1,1 and 2 (March and April 1902): 41-52 and 202-217). Regrettably, I have 9 exhibition, authored by the English scholar, W.H. James Weale, extolled the virtues of the Flemish works as a means of recouping an ignored Belgian heritage. An alternative Catalogue Critique written by a young scholar, Georges Hulin de Loo 1 0 , while proclaiming that he had 'solved' some of the mysteries of Northern European art history, pointedly asserted at the same time that the French should emulate the Belgians in salvaging their own past. Hulin de Loo directly challenged the French art establishment; he argued that the French public was unfamiliar with much fifteenth and sixteenth century French art simply because it was not hung in the public galleries and, when examples were displayed, they were mis-attributed by French curators and academics to German, Flemish or Dutch painters. To add further injury, he asked disingenuously: Is it by ignorance or thoughtlessness that [France] neglects its treasures? Is [France] waiting until a foreigner, some patient German scholar, applies himself to researching the few works, to their reproduction and their study, and, by means of his approach, work and persistence, succeeds in demonstrating to the eyes of France and of the world what had been, before the Italian hybridization, the French national art?11 been unable to locate the original Weale catalogue, Exposition des Primitifs flamand et de I'art ancien (Bruges, 1902), for comparison and have had to rely on secondhand quotations and references in Weale's article. Francis Haskell, in History and its Images, places the exhibition firmly within the sorcalled Flemish Renaissance movement of the period. I agree that it is part of the cultural movement of the time; he does not, however, expand the discussion to more complex political, economic and ideological territory which would have made the event's timing and relevance even more compelling. 1 0Georges Hulin de Loo, Bruges 1902: Exposition de Tableaux Flamandes desXIV^, XV s et XVI-siecles - Catalogue Critique (Gand: A. Siffer, Libraire-Editeur, 1902). "Hulin de Loo, Bruges 1902:..., LVIII: Est-ce par inconscience ou par insouciance qu'elle laisse les tresors dans I'oubli? - Attend- elle qu'un etranger, I'un ou I'autre patient erudit Allemand, s'attache a la recherche des oeuvres eparses, a leur reproduction et a leur etude, et qu'a force de demarches, de labeur et d'obstination, il arrive enfin a montrer aux yeux de la France de du monde quel a ete, avant I'hybridation italienne, I'art national francais? 1 0 Such a telling insult prompted a swift response. By January 1903, an article by Henri Bouchot in the French periodical, Gazette des Beaux-Arts, announced a retaliatory exhibition, albeit in an editor's footnote: It was last August, in returning from the Exposition des primitifs flamands de Bruges, that M. Henri Bouchot launched, in the journal, L'Eclair, an Exposition des Primitifs frangais project. His rallying cry has everywhere found a reply; numerous and delighted supporters have contacted the scholarly curator at the Cabinet des Estampes, which permit him to consider henceforth the realization of his idea.1 2 A comparatively brief fourteen months later, the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was opened. Georges Lafenestre, too, in his opening essay to the Exposition des Primitifs frangais's Catalogue Definitif, confirmed that the Flemish show had been the main impetus to the creation of the Paris event when he writes "[t]he invitation, furnished by the Exposition des Primitifs flamands, at Bruges, in 1902, for a methodical and scientific comparison of two contemporary arts, fraternal and alike, was too seductive to avoid."13 The direct link between the events is clearly recognized and acknowledged. But is that The reference.to a German scholar 'discovering' French artistic roots must have especially rankled French readers. 1 2Henri Bouchot, "(.'exposition des primitifs francais: de quelques portraits de peintre Jean Fouquet aujourd'hui perdus," La Revue de I'art ancien et moderne 13, 70 (Janvier 1903): 1: C'est en aout dernier, au retour de YExposition des primitifs flamands de Bruges, que M. Henri Bouchot avait lance, dans le journal I'Eclair, le projet d'une Exposition des primitifs frangais. Son appel a partout trouve de I'echo de nombreuses et flatteuses adhesions sont parvenues au savant conservateur du Cabinet des Estampes, qui lui permettent de considerer desormais comme certaine la realisation de son idee. "Catalogue Definitif, XXX: "L'invitation, fournie par I'admirable Exposition des Primitifs flamands, a Bruges, en 1902, a une comparaison methodique et scientifique de deus arts contemporains, fratemels et jumeaux, etait trop seduisantes pour qu'on s'y derobat." 11 all? Even though the academic sensibilities of the Louvre and the French art establishment had undoubtedly been stung by Hulin de Loo's observations, the launching of an enterprise such as the Exposition des Primitifs frangais must have been predicated on a political and cultural climate that encouraged what seems to have been a rapid (and reactive) organization of this event14 Other factors, attitudes and influences must have been at play to support such an expenditure of time, effort and the relatively scarce funding for fine arts.1 5 Republican ideology that was elucidated in public policies of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries and as viewed through this reading of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais can be described as centrist and moderating, or, as historian Francois Furet phrases it, "a conservative authority governing in the name of revolutionary values"16 From the first years of the Third Republic, the liberal bourgeois government had gradually moved to a more centrist position, so that by 1904, the middle year of the Waldeck- 14Although I have found no evidence specifically supporting this notion, it is quite possible that the idea of an Exposition des Primitifs frangais had been considered for a considerable time prior to the actual announcement, possibly in response to early publicity about the Bruges exhibit which was probably evident as early as 1901. 1 5 A n avenue of investigation unavailable to me during the course of my research is an examination of contemporary fiscal records of the Ministry of Education and Fine Arts. A profitable and enlightening endeavour would be to explore the costs incurred by the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and to determine from which ministry this funding was derived. Surely the costs would have been quite large - too large for the standard budget of the Beaux-Arts section of the Ministry to cover without special funding being allocated. The patriotism of French patrons and lenders might account for some of the expenses; however, one cannot presume that all lenders, especially foreign ones, absorbed the full cost of transportation, insurance, etc. 1 6Francois Furet, 'The Birth of History in France," In the Workshop of History, trans. Jonathan Mandelbaum (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1984): 92. 12 Rousseau government17, the Bloc Republicain comprised a mixture of political stripes including the Socialist, Millerand, as well as more centrist conservatives moving away from the right wing. Memories of the Communards and the turbulent Boulangist years of the later 1880's produced a more conservative Republicanism.18 Judith Stone's analysis of the ruling Republicans in this period indicates that, as the Radicals consolidated their position within government, their political tendencies edged toward the centre of the spectrum; this was a means of preserving the power they had thus far achieved by stripping away the more Jacobinist elements.19 The ruling Bloc supported pragmatic values of stability and consistency which focused on the individual; these included both free enterprise and notions of public service and duty to the state as one of the privileges and rights of the citizen.20 The individual could act and think as an individual while maintaining "society as a the collectivity of individuals".21 The place of art and its institutional manifestations within this Republican ideological framework has been discussed in great detail by a range of historians, such as Miriam 1 7Under President Ernest Combes, it was in power from 1902-1906. R.D. Anderson, France 1870-1914: Politics and Society (London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1977): 77-78. 1 8Anderson, 18; Andre Roussel and Jean Sgard, Histoire de France a travers les journaux du temps passee, Vol. 3: La Belle Epoque (1898-1914) (Paris: A I'Enseigne de I'arbre verdoyant, A. Colin, 1982): 78. 1 9Judith F. Stone, 'The Radicals and the Interventionist State: Attitudes, Ambiguities and Transformations, 1880-1910," French History 2, 2 (1988): 185. 2 0Miriam Levin, Republican Art and Ideology in Late Nineteenth Century France (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Press, 1986): 68. 2 1Levin, 19. 13 Levin and Daniel J. Sherman22; these authors, however, have focused predominately on the contemporary production of art in analyzing, for example, the Salons, the envoi method of distributing annual Salon purchases to provincial centres, and the development and fostering of an 'official' art style. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais, as I will show, represents the culmination of a parallel but very different tactic of using art within that Republican ideological structure. Contemporary production exemplified the nation's present level of achievement and projected the future development of the French state and its citizens under Republican rule. The historical exhibition as it had evolved from the Retrospectives at the Expositions Universelles23 demonstrated both the custodial role of the Third Republic in preserving the national patrimony as well as the multifaceted artistic roots of contemporary technological and artistic expertise. Republican art policies at the end of the nineteenth century proclaimed artistic practice as an intrinsic part of the liberal democratic state. As cultural historian Nicholas Green has described, the levels and depths of Republican governmental involvement in French cultural affairs were not simply the totalising imposition of government on the governed, but rather a constant and often unsuccessful negotiation with the existing structures of civil society. Moreover, as he 2 2Miriam Levin, previously cited and Daniel J. Sherman in "The Bourgeoisie, Cultural Appropriation, and the Art Museum in Nineteenth-Century France" (Radical History Review 38 (1987): 38-58) and Worthy Monuments: Art, Museums and the Politics of Culture in Nineteenth Century France (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 1989). "Often, these exhibitions were limited to a consideration of relatively short periods of artistic production (i.e., ten, twenty or one hundred years) and were often linked with symbolic dates (for example, the Retrospective for the 1889 Exposition Universale commemorated the centennial of the Revolution). See Richard D. Mandrell, Paris 1900: The Great World's Fair (Toronto: The University of Toronto Press, 1967) and Paul Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas: The Expositions Universelles, Great Exhibitions and World's Fairs, 1851-1939 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988) for general discussions of the World's Fair phenomenon. 14 argues, state intellectuals and administrators were not the source and origin of such initiatives; their decisions and directives were always framed by a deeper level of economic, political and intellectual structuration. Nevertheless, focusing on the precise history of official policy and departments does provide one crucial point of access to the reworked definition of art and its role under the Republican hegemony.24 The theoretical principles outlined by Green and others2 5 to address the manufacture of art during the Third Republic can also be applied to the Exposition des Primitifs frangais because the exhibition discourse incorporates many of the same principles in recouping the art production of an earlier historical period into the ideological framework of the contemporary one. Thus, while the elements described in both Levin and Sherman were applied to production in the last quarter of the nineteenth century, I have used their work to inform my analysis of the display of historical works from a much earlier period at the Primitifs exhibition. The production values of the official art of the time were under question -- seen as formulaic and sterile -- and the Exposition des Primitifs frangais provided a new milieu in which to make similar claims without incurring the bored response the Salons had inspired in recent years.2 6 2 4Nicholas Green, '"All the Flowers of the Field': the State, Liberalism and Art in France under the early Third Republic," The Oxford Art Journal 10, 1 (1987): 73. " S e e note 21, above. 2 6 French historian and reviewer Andre Michel apologized to his readers for not having reviewed the 1904 Salon, but "this exhibition [i.e., the Exposition des Primitifs frangais] is so interesting and so exceptional...that perhaps you will permit me perhaps to delay still longer" ("cette exposition est si interressante et si exceptionelle...qu'on me permettra peut'etre de m'y attarder encore"]. Andre Michel, "Causerie Artistique V: L'Exposition des Primitifs francais," Journal des Debats (29 April 1904): 1. 15 The Third Republic, like its predecessors in the Second Empire and Restoration periods, was well aware that the institutions of the fine arts were important purveyors of a cultural atmosphere that could be harnessed to inculcate the nation with ideological tenets central to and supportive of the current regime. From this perspective, the successive governments of the Third Republic utilized the Louvre, the Salon system and other cultural events such as the Exposition Universelles as conduits for France's self- imaging as a modern nation concerned with an ever-more enlightened future. Recent retrospective analyses have revealed the subtexts of political posturing and national self- assertion interwoven through the apparent motivations of institutional display and commerce. In the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, too, there are subtexts which implicate a wider political agenda within the construction of its art historical claims. Historian Miriam Levin recognized that Republican aesthetics served ideological goals both by developing an 'official' style of art designed to "manipulate human psychology and social behaviour" and by regarding historical works as "so many insights into the sensibilities and production systems of older societies,...turn[ing] the past into a point of reference for determining the character their own [Republican] society's products ought to have."27 The ostensible democratization of art through public museums and the Salons went against the mostly elitist tendencies of the fonctionnaires in charge of the art institutions like the Louvre, the Ecole des Beaux-Arts, and the Institut Frangais. The positions of these fonctionnaires endured from one regime to another with the goal of keeping things Levin, 13. 16 the same and not risking change or the threat of the new.2 8 Their role was to protect and preserve the national patrimony, inherited via the Revolution from the Ancien Regime, for the benefit and general use of the Nation.29 With this in mind then, the question becomes: how did the claims of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais operate outside the professed arguments made in the Catalogue Definitif? As I will argue, the Exposition des Primitifs frangais can be constituted as a textual and visual metaphor for the contemporary French and European environment as perceived by the Republican government and ruling elite. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais proposed a smooth historical continuum, but underlying and threatening that seamless historical scenario of a once unified, francophone, artistically autonomous and centralized nation was the implication of a France beleaguered by Italian, ultramontane and papally-linked artists invading from the south at the same time that the northwest provinces were falling under the pervasive influence of a Flemish internationalist presence. And while medieval Paris was struggling to remain the central controlling force for the nation, a dispersal of talent and power to provincial capitals was weakening the continuity and consistency of French (artistic) production and authority in the face of immigrant workers taking the place of the French-born. The foregoing outline provides almost too neat an analogy for the fears of the Paris-based Republicans at the turn of the twentieth century. External forces of the 2 8Jeanne Laurent, Arts et pouvoir en France de 1793 a 1981: Histoire d'une demission artistique, Universitaire de Saint-Etienne, Travaux 34 (Saint-Etienne: Centre Interdisciplinaire d'Etudes et de Recherches sur I'Expression Contemporaine, 1981): 10. 29Jean-Pierre Babelon and Andre Chastel, "La notion de patrimoine," Revue de I'Art 49 (1980): 19. 17 ultramontane Catholic conservatives were gathering momentum in the wake of the Dreyfus Affair while, at the same time, leftist groups were breaking away from the Republican centrist position to ally themselves with more Radical elements espousing internationalism of a different kind: socialism. Political leadership on the right, typified by Barres, called for a return to dispersed democracy. An influx of Belgian and Italian workers into the border provinces in the northwest and southeast were displacing French workers, a situation that fostered local and national distrust of such temporary populations who with little or no stake in France carried their French wages back across international borders.3 0 To elaborate on these issues, this thesis considers the question of the wider application of the visual argument of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais in four chapters, each dealing with specific issues. First, I examine the exhibition itself: where it was held, its contents and their arrangement, as well as the milieu of exhibitions of which the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was but one part. This examination demonstrates how the Exposition des Primitifs frangais constructed the viewing of its contents and how that viewing reinforced the ideological messages of the exhibition. In the second chapter, I investigate how the catalogues, and particularly the Catalogue Definitif, formed the textual argument, first as supplement to the visual experience of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and second as a separate construction of the overall exhibition argument; the use of language, the formulation of the argument and the circulation of the catalogues all 3 0Firmin Lientacker, "La Situation des travailleurs beiges en France de 1871 a 1914," Les Relations franco-beiges de 1830 a 1934, Actes de Colloque de Metz November 15-16, 1974 (Metz: Centre de recherches relations Internationales de I'Universite de Metz, 1975): 175. 18 are considered as elements of the textual argument. Then, in Chapter Three, I consider the political and artistic climate and community within and outside France during the period leading up to and surrounding the exhibition in an attempt to unravei different readings of the Catalogue Definitif and the complex agenda of alternate meanings that can be derived from it; this chapter also locates the term 'primitif within contemporary usage and practice and discusses how the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and the Musee du Louvre, the institutional body supporting the exhibition, reappropriated this term in order to defuse the radical overtones of other usage. And in the fourth chapter, I place the arguments surrounding the exhibition's avowed intent within a framework of responses by major periodicals and journals of the time, both domestic and foreign, using the Catalogue Definitif and the position taken by the curators as a counterpoint to the support, or lack of it, for that position. The Conclusion includes a brief review of subsequent accounts of French art history to investigate what the long range impact of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was on the 'rewriting' of that history. 19 CHAPTER ONE THE 'EVENT' The museum's primary function is ideological. It is meant to impress upon those who use or pass through it society's most revered beliefs and values.31 Analysis of a long-past event is an inherently conjectural process. Temporality and ephemerality are the essence of an experience and to re-create that experience is impossible. This chapter attempts, however, to reconstruct the Exposition des Primitifs frangais to some extent, first, by delving into written descriptions of the exhibition to understand how the physical layout and siting of the exhibition became an important part of the discourse of the exhibition; second, by examining this exhibition as part of a continuum of exhibition practices occurring throughout the latter half of the nineteenth century and into the early twentieth as a forum for nationalistic expressions voiced in cultural terminology and settings; and third, by discussing the 1902 Exposition des Primitifs flamands held in Bruges, Belgium, as the direct precursor to and professed impetus for the Exposition des Primitifs frangais held two years later. The French exhibition which M. Marcel so eagerly opened had been constructed for the maximum effect on the public viewership it was trying to attract. Four analytical elements, those of content, site, timing, and organization, provide a framework for 're- visualizing' the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. 3 1 Carol Duncan and Alan Wallach, 'The Universal Survey Museum", Art History 3, 4 (December 1980): 449. 20 In purely numerical terms32, out of the 701 objects the exhibition displayed, there were 459 paintings, drawings and mural copies, as well as 23 tapestries, 25 enamels and 58 sculptures at the Pavilion de Marsan; and 242 manuscripts and miniatures at the Bibliotheque Nationale several blocks away. The visual preponderance of paintings and drawings (64% of the objects shown) was reinforced by curator Paul Vitry's introduction to the Sculptures section of the Catalogue Definitif in which he clearly placed all other genres of objects in the exhibition in a secondary and supporting role: The few pieces here described which make no pretence of constituting a complete presentation show the development and essential works of French sculpture in the 14th, 15th and 16th centuries. They are reunited here simply to add to the decoration of the Exposition rooms and to offer at the same time some characteristic examples for comparison of the evolution of French painting and those of sculpture. They have been borrowed almost in their entirety from Parisian collections.33 This is an important emphasis: although not specifically entitled L'Exposition des Peintures primitifs frangais, the weight and focus of the discourse surrounding the claims of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was on the painted and drawn works it contained. The qualities and levels of production exemplified in the enamels, tapestries, and especially the sculptures and manuscripts were apparently unchallenged or unchallenging; thus the field of combat lay in the drawn and painted images. It was here that Henri Bouchot, 3 2Refer to appendix 1 for a detailed breakdown of the exhibition by type of work, content and lender. "Catalogue Definitif, 107: Les quelques pieces dont suit I'indication n'ont pas la pretention de constituer une serie complete, montrant le developpement et les oeuvres essentielles de la sculpture francaise aux XIVe, XV e et XVIs siecles. Elles ont ete reunies simplement pour contribuer a la decoration des salles de I'Exposition et pour offrir en meme temps quelques termes de comparaison caracteristiques entre revolution de la peinture francaise et celle de la sculpture. Elles ont ete empruntees presque uniquement a des collections parisiennes. 21 chief curator of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, and Georges Lafenestre, the author of the Introduction, contended that French creative superiority in painting and drawing had been continuous and particular. Analysis of the ownership of the objects according to nationality of lenders and city of origin shows that the majority of lenders unsurprisingly were, first, French or domiciled in France and, second, private owners. Educated, and numbering among them current and past government ministers and bureaucrats, as well as members of the Institut Frangais and the art-historical establishment, the Paris-centred owners loaned their works to the Louvre, in a sense, in order to show their own art to themselves and each other. Each had an interest, whether political, personal or economic, in promoting the re- interpreted content of the works and, by displaying their possessions in the central national cultural institution, they were also establishing their status as owners of recouped, and therefore more valuable, 'masterworks'.34 It is interesting and ironic to note that, of the 25 works borrowed from non-Parisian institutions (though comprising only 13% of the total show), four of the five highlights of the exhibition35 were from institutions and sites outside the lle-de-France/Paris hub. Their 'freshness' to the critics might have contributed to this response, but it points to the frailty of the Louvre's position as the repository of aH of France's greatest treasures. 3 4 S e e appendix 1 for detailed information. 3 5 B y this, I mean the greatest number of mentions in the extensive periodical coverage of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. These were: the Buisson Ardent (fig. 16) from Aix; the Triomphe de la Vierge Marie (fig. 17) and the Pieta (fig. 18), both from Villeneuve-les-Avignon; the Melun Diptych, the two wings reunited here from their galleries in Antwerp and Berlin (fig. 15 and 24); and the Portrait de Jean le Bon (fig. 26), which, though local, was hidden from general view in the Bibliotheque Nationale. 22 Site is the second important element in analyzing the exhibition's discourse surrounding the claims for a French primitif by the curators. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais was housed in the Pavilion de Marsan (fig. 1), a section with considerable Republican resonance. Severely damaged during the Commune uprising in 1871, along with most of the Aile Nord and the Bibliotheque du Louvre, its ruins had been used in the early days of the Republic as a symbol of the valour of the true Republican hero battling to save that icon of France, the Louvre, from the depredations of the Communards.3 6 Rebuilt after 1872, its west-facing facade (fig. 2) had been harmonized architecturally with that of the Pavilion de Flore on the south wing in the much older style of Henri IV, whose reign (1595-1610) was symbolic of the beginnings of France's Golden Age of the seventeenth century.37 The Louvre was the ideal institution in which to hold an exhibition claiming French artistic supremacy. Previously a royal palace, it had been turned into a public national museum (and later an art school) after the French Revolution and had long since attained standing as the fulcrum of French artistic production. Here were housed the proofs of French greatness as well as the booty of past conquests; here too was centred the arbiters of taste and 'quality' in current artistic production. As a social space, the Louvre drew its specific audience for various purposes: pretence and erudition, entertainment and excellence. Under Republican auspices, the Louvre performed the dual functions as the central democratic site, accessible by all, where a national 'taste' was housed and as a 36Christiane Aulanier, Histoire du Palais et du Musee du Louvre, Vol. IV, Le nouveau Louvre de Napoleon III (Paris: Editions des Musees Nationaux, 1961): 19. 3 7Christ, 130. 23 complement to contemporary art production in state art schools and in the salons administered by them.3 8 This siting of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais then reinforced the state involvement and support for the nationalist arguments for a French primitif. On the other hand, the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, though organized under the auspices of the Musee du Louvre, had been located in the most remote wing of Louvre, perhaps simply because of the sheer size of the show. The site of the exhibition was thus physically distant, marginalized from the central 'body' of the Louvre, and perhaps marginalized too from all it represented. Located in the northern wing, it was thus more associated with the Musee des Arts decoratifs, scheduled for opening in 190539, than with the edifice of academic and institutionalized art historical practices represented by the main buildings and collections of the Louvre. The contents of the exhibition were similarly fraught with ambivalence from the beginning: the curators were asserting both an inclusionary status to the works they presented, while at the same time they placed them outside the body of the very edifice of which they are supposedly a part. These seeming paradoxes reinforce my contention that this endeavour was simultaneously a radicalizing and a conservatizing act -- adding to, yet critical, of the canonical assumptions which had excluded French influence on the sixteenth century Renaissance. 3 8Levin, 108. 39Hillairet, 100; Christ, 130. In the review by Camille Benoit ("Les primitifs frangais: La peinture du XVe siecle," La Revue de Paris 11, 5 (May 1904): 189), the wing is already referred to as the Musee des Arts decoratifs. 24 The timing of this exhibition is a third element permitting further understanding of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. First of all, I am taking the notion of timing to refer also to access to the exhibition. The audience experience is constructed at various stages in the process of experiencing the 'event'. By imposing an entry fee of 1 franc per person and setting exhibition hours between 10:00 a.m. to 6:00 p.m., access to the exhibition was restricted to, or perhaps more accurately focused on, a specific group. No free days were mentioned in any of the literature, nor did regular admission to the Musee du Louvre include entry to the Pavilion de Marsan, or wee versa, both of which were standard practices of the day. 4 0 Whole segments of the population, the working class and the lower middle class most particularly, were thus excluded from experiencing the exhibition. The leisured classes, and that important and influential segment of the population, the fonctionnaires, or civil service, could thus both afford the entry fee and, perhaps more importantly, have the leisure time required to attend the exhibition.41 As Daniel Sherman has argued, admission fees to art museums were customarily a means to limit access to a specific and desirable public, as well as ensure that due reverence and propriety were maintained: ...the museum of the late nineteenth century constituted itself in the image of class elite, which it then invoked as its public. Beginning with the rhetoric of museum administrators, this invocation operated on a number of levels: the arrangement of collections, the framing of regulation, the ordering of the visit. Often solidly founded in the pragmatic needs of the institution, these practices nevertheless also worked as signifiers, shaping the institutional ^Journal des Debate 7 April 1904, 2. "Sherman, 235. 25 character and identity in ways that not only invoked one public but largely excluded another.42 The practices he describes for provincial museums were also the case for the Louvre and the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. An important facet of the experience of the exhibition linked to these ideas of access and exclusion is the notion of the 'promenade'43, described by social historian David Scobey as a 'performative utterance' of social values and rules. Applying Scobey's analysis to museums one can see that walking through the exhibition, guided by pamphlet guidebooks, constructed the audience at the same time as they constructed what they were seeing. The exhibition's contents presented a self-reflective image mirroring back specifically targeted values important to contemporary Republican bourgeoisie and buttressed either simultaneously or afterward by the essay and catalogue entries in the Catalogue Definitif. The codes recognized by the viewers were part of the 'secret' knowledge allowing and restricting entry into the 'ruling' classes. There are two different transactions and recognitions occurring in this procession through the exhibition: between the works and the viewer and between one viewer and another. In the first transaction, the works, as described in the Catalogue, reflected both 'mastery' that is unarticulated, but no less claimed through selection and presentation by an institution such as the Louvre, and 'order' in which identification and lineage are emphasized in the Catalogue 4 eSherman, 211. 4 3 l owe entry into the topic of the 'promenade' to David Scobey. His article ("Anatomy of the promenade: The politics of bourgeois sociability in nineteenth-century New York," Social HistoryM, 2 (May 1992), 203-227) dissects the social function of seeing and being seen as a means of creating and reinforcing codes of behaviour and class. This approach is valid here, I believe, because the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was targeting a specifically constituted Republican audience. 26 Definitif $ descriptive passages about each work deemed important. The works were arranged and presented in a way which reinforced the authoritative voice of the Louvre's control of the art historical forum. The second transaction concerns the identificatory activity of the viewer(s) being seen together with other individuals recognizably a part of the legitimate (and thus legitimated) audience for such an event because their behaviours, dress, and even the fact of their attendance at such an event classified them as being 'like! oneself. Accustomed as the bourgeoisie were to attending the Salons each year, this event was yet another formalized exhibition of 'culture' and of class self-recognition organized through the official channels of the Beaux-Arts hierarchy. A second timing issue relates to the duration and dates of the exhibition. Its three month schedule was bracketed by two highly significant and resonant dates. It was opened on the Tuesday after Easter44, the week after the most sacred feast day in the Christian calendar, and was scheduled to close on July 14th, the secular 'high holiday' of the Republic. The implied progression from religious to secular 'religion' is no coincidence. As French historians Mayeur and Reberioux characterize it45, the F§te de la Republique had become a secular holiday representing not so much the Bastille's fall, a singularly anarchistic act from which the present-day constitutionally-based Republican 4 4 A preview was held at 6:00 p.m. on Monday, April 11th. The entry fee was 10 francs, reduced to 2 francs for members of the Societe des Amis du Louvre upon presentation of their membership cards. Twenty-five percent of the proceeds of this event were to be donated for the aid of Russians wounded in the Russo-Japanese War; France supported the Russian side in this conflict. Journal des Debats 7 April 1904: 2. 4 5 Jean-Marie Mayeur and Madeleine Reberioux, The Third Republic from itsOrigins to the Great War, 1871-1914, trans. J.R. Foster (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press; Paris: Editions de la Maison des sciences de I'homme, 1984): 118. See also Jean-Pierre Bois, Histoire des 14 Juillet 1789-1919, Collection «De memoire d'homme: l'histoire», ed. Lucien Bely (Rennes: Editions Ouest-France, 1991) for a detailed history of how July 14th evolved from a revolutionary's Bastille Day to a Republican fete nationale. 27 government wanted and needed to distance itself, but the patriotic festival in which the Republican government succeeded in blending together the Revolution with the constitution46. This legitimized the extremes of uprising and legislation into a continuous link "between the monarchical past and the Republican future" and focused disparate political and social public opinions on a common civic celebration, not one of religious or customary origin.47 The exhibition then was situated between the monarchical, religious festival of Easter and the secular, reconstituted Fefe National, republicanized to elide differences of political spectre and to present a representation of the French nation as seamless whole, unified under the constitutionality and fraternity of its governmental structures. A fourth element necessary for an understanding the Exposition des Primitifs frangais is organization. This blending and eliding of the monarchical past with a Republican present and future as part of the French national identity was reinforced by the very arrangement of the art works in the exhibition. Articles written by critics and the intelligentsia provide a number of important details on how the exhibition was experienced. Two painted stone sculptures of Charles V and Jeanne de Bourbon, reigning monarchs in the second half of the fourteenth century, were placed at the threshold to "welcome visitors"48; their presence marked symbolically the beginning of 4 6 Bois, 9. 4 7 Bois, 9-11. 4 8Andre Michel, "Causerie Artistique I. L'Exposition des Primitifs francais," Journal des Debats, April 12, 1904:1. These two pieces are listed together as #307 in the sculpture section of Catalogue Definitif, 113-4. These two sculptures are linked directly with drawings of the same monarchs on the Parement de Narbonne, an altar hanging depicting the Passion, drawn on white silk. One of the first pieces in the catalogue (#3), the Parement is cited in both the Introduction and in the catalogue entries as one of the most important 28 the period in which the earliest of the works displayed in the exhibition were created.49 Separate rooms on at least two floors of the Pavilion50 contained schools of art works grouped by date order and by locality, school and/or attributed artist51 (such as the separate rooms set aside for Corneille de Lyons and the Loire school5 2). Critic Camille Benoit, for example, referred to a main picture hall with separate rooms for the Avignon School and another for works from the fourteenth century.53 Sculptures were scattered throughout the exhibition and "afforded a welcome relief to the wealth of colours displayed upon the walls"54. The resulting impression of the exhibition was one of small rooms organized around a central space and arranged in groupings organized by date, artist and/or school, thus providing a comprehensive account of art production of the French nation. The manuscripts were exhibited separately at the Bibliotheque Nationale. As described in Catalogue Definitif, they were presented a noticeably different arrangement to those at the Pavilion de Marsan. Not only were they physically separated from the transitional pieces between gothic architecture of the cathedrals, manuscript illumination and the fledgling painting genre (Catalogue Definitif, XVIII-XIX and 2-3). 4 9Charles V ruled until 1380. His role in the Great Schism may also have influenced this placement; he supported the Anti-Pope Clement (and thus split Rome's powerbase) and he forbade allegiance to any faction in the debate that would not be to the benefit of France. 50Louis-Frederic Sauvage, "Les Primitifs francais," La Nouvelle revue (Paris) 25 (May 15, 1904): 209; Benoit, 210; and Catalogue Definitif, XXVI. "Sauvage, 209. 5 ZHenri Bouchot, "L'Exposition des Primitifs frangais," Revue des deux mondes 20 (March 15,1904): 441 - 2. "Benoit, 210. 5 4Lionel Elliot, "The Primitive French Exhibition at Paris," The Connoisseur 10, 37 (September 1904): 44. 29 paintings, but there was a separate entries section in the Catalogue Definitif (as will be discussed in Chapter 2). Nevertheless, immediately on entering the Bibliotheque Nationale a viewer would also have been struck by contrasts of size and tone -- from the large and age-darkened panel paintings in the Pavilion de Marsan to the tiny, jewel-toned miniatures on display at the Bibliotheque Nationale. All of the pieces were laid out in glass-topped cases in one large room, in strict sequential order: "all the manuscripts, and several of those which one finds in facsimile on the vestibule walls on the main floor, are listed in the Catalogue in the place that they would by rights occupy in the chronology."55 The separation of the manuscripts from the main exhibition presents an important facet of the organization of this section of the display.56 Surely in an exhibition which founded many of its claims on the parallel and overlapping developments in representation between manuscript illumination and the development of a uniquely French art production, such an argument would have been more convincingly supported by arranging objects to provide more direct opportunities to compare and contrast these related elements. The exhibition's reliance on the audience's memory to carry over from one site to the next seems at this distance an undue impediment to the professed task ssCatalogue Definitif, Manuscript section, 1-2: "...[TJous les manuscrits, et plusieurs de ceux dont on trouvera en fac-simile sur les murs du vestibule au rez-de-chaussee place qu'il avaient droit d'occuper dans la serie chronologique." 5 6 This was particularly noted by Camille Benoit ("Les primitifs francais: La peinture du XV e siecle," 189). Jean Guiffrey ("L'Exposition des Primitifs Frangais a Paris," Rassegna d'Arte 4, 6 (June 1904): 81) commented that the Bibliotheque Nationale was located "far, unfortunately, from the pictures shown at the Louvre, in the Pavilion de Marsan [loin, malheureusement, des tableaux exposees au Louvre, au Pavilion de Marsan]". Even Henri Bouchot, Secretaire-general of the exhibition and co-writer/editor of the Catalogue Definitif as well as prolific contributor to the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, commented that the distant location "will spoil the quick comparisons" ["nuira aux contestations rapides"], "...Avant-propos," 268. 30 of convincing the exhibition-goer of the strength of the curatorial argument57. It is possible that there were spacing constrictions as the reason for the dual venues, but one might speculate that there was a jurisdictional dispute arising from the Portrait de Jean le Bon being removed from the Bibliotheque Nationale's domain; however, it might also indicate a certain intellectual hesitancy, a reluctance to support fully the revisionist art historical argument being made. While some manuscript pages were indeed mounted near to paintings in the Pavilion de Marsan to facilitate such comparisons58, the number of these juxtapositions is unspecified and, according to reviewers' complaints, seemingly insufficient.59 This analysis of the format of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais reveals that by controlling the environment and the way in which the works were shown, Republican ideology can be seen to be embodied in the temporal and spatial arrangement supportive of the overall assertions of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Only elite segments of the social sphere were allowed in to see the works by virtue of the opening hours and admission costs; in addition, the milieu of the Louvre placed social restrictions on behaviour which included 'polite society' and excluded all others. Reinforcement of the Parisian and institutional centrality added to the construction of a specific Republican and cultural unity. "Bouchot, "...Avant-propos," 265. 5 8 Paul Vitry, 'The Exhibition of French Primitives at Paris," Burlington Magazine 5, 13 (April 1904): 90. This article was more of a press release or "coming attractions" article previewing what was intended to be displayed at the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. 5 9Benoit, 189; Guiffrey, "L'Exposition des Primitifs francais a Paris," 81; and Michel, "Causerie Artistique 1/1. 31 It is important to recognize that this exhibition was not an isolated phenomenon, but only the most recent manifestation of European exhibiting practices which had developed throughout the nineteenth century. As various studies have disclosed6 0, from the middle of the nineteenth century, the Great Exhibitions, or Expositions Universelles, had established a pattern of national self-assertion through the display of cultural objects and manufactured goods. Although these events focused on both contemporary production of goods and art objects as well as technological excellences of each participant, by the time of the Exposition Universelle of 1878, staging a Retrospective had become an intrinsic part of national self-presentation, both as a means of confirming the existence of a glorious past and also as a way of linking historic excellence and creativity to present and future achievements of the contemporary nation-state. Indeed, the Expositions Universelles can be seen as direct precursors of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Assertions of French cultural hegemony in the present and projected into the future were 'retrofitted' to the past. In the construction of these events, contemporary artistic production exemplifying national achievement and progress was thus shown to be only the most recent evidence of a long-standing national character redolent with cultural accomplishment and creativity. The ethos of unifying the nation under a singularly national banner of industrial and aesthetic achievement was carried over through the 6 0 These include Paul Greenhalgh, Ephemeral Vistas: The Expositions Universelles, Great Exhibitions and World's Fairs, 1851-1939 (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1988); Richard D. Mandrell, Paris 1900: The Great World's Fair (Toronto: The University of Toronto Press, 1967); Pascal Ory, Les Expositions universelles de Paris. Panorama raisonne, avec des apercus nouveaux des illustrations par les meilleurs auteurs ([Paris]: Editions Ramsay «lmage», 1982); and Frank Anderson Trapp, 'The World's Fairs: From Bazaar to Utopian Vision" and Pierre Vaisse, "Salons, Expositions et Societes d'artistes en France 1871- 1914," both from Saloni, Gallerie, Musei e loro Influenza sullo Sviluppo dell'Arte die secoli XIX e XX, ed. Francis Haskell, Section 7, Atti del XXIV Congresso Internationale de Storia deH'Arte (Bologna: Cooperativa Libraria Universitaria, 1979). 32 publicity surrounding the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Notions of progress and of technological advances were thus viewed in retrospect as a means of identifying the historical origins of present-day greatness. The double levels of education (that is, exposing heretofore privileged works of art to the view of the general public, in particular the bourgeoisie and lower classes) and erudition (that is, displaying examples of the intellectual achievement of the academy for the delectation of the intelligentsia) were thus fulfilled and elision of the cultural differences within France achieved. During the thirty-year period between 1875 and 1904 at least 40 European exhibitions presented 'old' art produced in the centuries prior to the eighteenth century.61 There were three main types of exhibitions held during this period. The Expositions retrospectives, the first type, were actually held from the 1850's on as an adjunct to Expositions Universelles or Expositions Internationales, cultural events for the edification of the fair-going public. Displaying almost exclusively decorative art objects rather than paintings and sculpture, they were devised more as a backward glance to earlier forms of manufacture in contrast with contemporary 'products' in the nearby Palaces of Industry; the intent, quite simply put, was to illustrate the progress achieved by the country, as well as to demonstrate the artistic sensibilities of the nation. Current artistic production, usually high art paintings and sculpture, was displayed in separate Fine Arts Pavilions. The 1878 Exposition Universelle offers an excellent example. Housed in the right wing of the Trocadero, this Retrospective was situated opposite the 'primitive' 6 1 S e e appendix 2 for a list of exhibitions from 1877 to 1904 and their content and focus, compiled from a review of the Burlington Magazine, La Revue de I'art ancien et moderne, Gazette des beaux-arts, Revue de I'Art Chretien, and other contemporary journals. 33 art from non-European cultures in the Trocadero's left wing6 2; both artistic and utilitarian objects from France's past were displayed in strict chronological order.6 3 This positioning and arrangement is not accidental: the relative sophistication of the 'European' (and more particularly, French) past was contrasted with the 'exoticism' of the non- European and colonized present; in addition, the materiel-organized exhibits parallelled the contemporary arrangements in the Palais d'lndustrie further down the promenade, reinforcing and linking a pre-industrialized culture with industrial and artistic production in the modern era. Thus the motive for showcasing French artistic production in these exhibitions was an established tradition. Toward the end of the century, however, 'stand-alone' historic art exhibitions began to develop; affiliated with neither industrial nor national exhibitions, they instead displayed chronological surveys of artworks under a generalized title such as 'Maitres Anciens' or 'Arts Anciens', or were limited to a single 'Old Master' or a particular type of art production. Painting and sculpture were included only infrequently; for example, Budapest's 1884 retrospective exhibition of gold and silver plate was focused narrowly on secular and religious objects from the twelfth to eighteenth centuries, while a Van Dyck exhibition, held first in Antwerp (1899) and then in London (1900), focused only on one artist and his production. These exhibitions contained little or no overt emphasis on the art works country of origin and often assembled works based entirely on local ownership 6 2 S e e Marilyn Wan, Naturalized Seeing/Colonial Vision: Interrogating the Display of Races in Late 19th Century France, unpublished MA thesis (Vancouver: University of British Columbia, 1991), for a detailed investigation of the construction of the 'other' in this and other Expositions Universelles. 6 3 A.-R. de Liesville, "L'Exposition Historique de Tart ancien: Coup d'oeil general," Gazette des Beaux-arts Series 2, 18 (July 1878): 6. 34 and availability. Here the claims were not so much for the nationality of the artist(s) per se, but for the ownership of the works themselves, the collection and the possession of the objects being displayed as evidence of curatorial perspicacity.64 In the 1890's a third kind of exhibition emerged, combining the nationalistic aspects of the Retrospectives with the focused content of the historical exhibitions. The assertions of a national stylistic predominated in this third type, with claims for national artistic origins and characteristics often allied with a recouping of a formerly disparaged or overlooked artist, group of artists, or movement. The 1898 Basel exhibition of Swiss and German Masters was one of the first to introduce the element of a national mastery into the historical exhibition. The Madrid Velasquez exhibit of the same year, focused only on a single artist, but also promoted a particular national style and body of work, this time allied to the works of Diego Velasquez. Both Sienna and Dusseldorf held exhibitions of 'maitres anciens' in 1904 in competition with the Exposition des Primitifs frangais show. The 1902 Exposition des Primitifs flamands held in Bruges was the immediate precursor to the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and thus merits special analysis because of the latter's explicit self-positioning as a response to the former's claims and posture. The Bruges show took the historical exhibition to new levels of nationalism and art historical assertions. Tied closely to a contemporary Flemish Renaissance which was promoting a Flemish-speaking Belgian culture distinct from both Dutch and French cultural implications, the Bruges exhibition focused entirely on the 'national' school of 64lt is important to note that several of this kind of exhibition were held at private institutions, such as the New Gallery and the Burlington Fine Arts Club, and the Galerie d'Altenburg. The relation of the exhibitions to the art market is thus a prominent factor in their occurrence. 35 Flemish painting in the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries. It argued for a coherent, chronological unity of fifteenth century Flemish art production and reaffirmed Flemish- speaking Belgium's role as one of the two 'founders' of later eighteenth century art developments, the other being the Italian Renaissance. The Bruges exhibition had arisen from the growth of Belgian nationalism.65 Throughout the 1890's Belgium had begun to distinguish its own cultural heritage from the umbrella of 'The Lowlands' sobriquet and as part of a reassertion of Flemish achievements separate from both Dutch and French historical hegemonies. The anti- academic Symbolist group, called Les XX, had examined their Flemish nationalist roots and evolved their own contemporary style in opposition to Neo-lmpressionist and Symbolist connections with France6 6; subsequently the conception and eventual staging of the Bruges exhibition helped to crystallize an historical Flemish presence distinct from the French and Netherlandish. These nationalist impulses had, according to Francis Haskell, resulted in the Exposition des Primitifs flamands. The exhibition, he notes, was "inspired by a series of nationally motivated exhibitions that had been held in many parts of Europe over the last few years, above all those devoted to Rembrandt and Rubens in 6 5 The main description of the Exposition des Primitifs flamands has been obtained from "Johannes Huizinga and the Flemish Renaissance," a chapter in Francis Haskell's History and its Images. In addition, contemporary journals and periodical accounts of the exhibition haver contributed greatly to my understanding of the exhibition as it was presented and received, particularly: Etienne Bricon, "Bruges et I'art primitif flamands," La Grande revue (September 1902): 689-705; H. Fierans-Gevaert, "L'Exposition des primitifs flamands a Bruges [three parts]", La revue de I'art ancien et moderne 12 (Aout, Septembre and Decembre 1902): 105-116, 173-182, and 435-444; and Weale, previously cited. 6 6 Jean Cassou, Emile Langui and Nikolaus Pevsner, Gateway to the Twentieth Century: Art and Culture in a Changing World (New York, Toronto and London: McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc., 1962): 54; Donald D. Egbert, Social Radicalism and the Arts: Western Europe (New York: Knopf, 1970): 605, 612. 36 Amsterdam and Antwerp" and had "the aim of commemorating the integrity of a vigorous national culture"67. Of particular importance in understanding the vehement claims of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais is the editorializing commentary by the catalogue's writer, Georges Hulin de Loo, cited in the Introduction to this thesis. Hulin de Loo, a young Belgian scholar, was just beginning to make a name for himself and sought to differentiate his research from that outlined in the more neutral catalogue of W.H. James Weale by inciting controversy. Hulin de Loo's commentary extensively critiqued French acquisition policies and, in one instance, disparaged the French Republican government's neglect of cultural issues for the more prosaic concerns of re-election: Could it be true that the French government, ordinarily so prodigious with frivolous expenditures, at a time when it can wait for a repercussion from the polls, appears to be stingy concerning its national collections, even concerning the Louvre? This incomparable and marvellous treasure, with which the abolished monarchs enriched France, does it have nothing to look forward to from democracy? ...Without doubt, French parliamentary politicians and the transitory governments that are burdened with service to their passions and interests, are exclusively absorbed in the questions that divide the nation. They have neither the leisure nor the concern to occupy themselves with elevated goals and important enterprises with a view to which they should unite their efforts ~ when it is matter of the outward prestige of France or the internal integrity of their great ethics.68 [emphasis in original] Haskell, History and Its Images, 445 and 449. Hulin de Loo, Bruges 1902..., LXI-LXII: Serait-il vrai que le gouvernement frangais, d'ordinaire si prodigue de depenses vaines, du moment qu'il peut en attendre une repercussion surs les votes, se montre parcimonieux envers ses collections nationales, meme envers le Louvre? Cet incomparable et merveilleux tresor, dont les monarchies abolies ont enrichi la France, n'a-t-il rein a attendre de la democratie? ...Sans doute, les politiciens parlementaires frangais et les gouvernements ephemeres qu'ils chargent du service de leurs passions et de leurs interets, sont 37 Hulin de Loo's attacks on France and its cultural policies were specifically cited in the Exposition des Primitifs frangais catalogue as a prime motivation for the scheduling of the French exhibition and the vehemence of the counterclaims made by Georges Lafenestre and Henri Bouchot. As Lafenestre proclaimed, rather facetiously, near the end of his Introduction to the Catalogue Definitif, it was now time for French curators to build on the work of the Bruges exhibition in the cause of scientific truth, to continue the arduous task of bringing the greatness of French Renaissance art to the public's attention.69 Thus, the challenge was taken up, the fulfilment of a long 'crusade' to persuade the now more receptive public of the 'truth' of the French curators' endeavour. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais therefore cannot be seen as an isolated instance, but an event that negotiated the ideas and concepts of previous exhibitions. Above all, the Exposition des Primitifs frangais voiced an institutional response to the 1902 Bruges exhibition, the Expositions des Primitifs flamands, in an art historical and nationalistic dialogue. exclusivement absorbes par les questions que divisent la nation, lis n'ont ni le loisir ni le souci de s'occuper des buts eleves et des hautes entreprises en vue desquels elle devrait unit ses efforts -- qu'ils s'agisse du prestige exterieur de la France, ou de I'integrite interne de sa grandeur morale. Hulin de Loo was referring here to the national elections held earlier in 1902 when the Bloc Republicain, a coalition of moderate elements among the varieties of Republicans, was elected in a majority under the presidency of Ernest Combes (Watson, 73; Anderson, 24). Their preoccupation with political issues had, according to Hulin de Loo, distracted them from culturally important matters. This is but one part of a four-page essay attached to a discussion of Jehan de Perreal of Paris, a French painter whom Hulin de Loo claims to be the Maitre de Moulins, one of several controversial attribution claims he made in his catalogue. 65'Catalogue Definitif, XXX-XXXI. 38 CHAPTER TWO CATALOGUE AS 'REPRESENTATION' A catalogue is a special type of book that assumes much of the structure of an exhibition (for which, as ever, it serves as guide, even when too bulky to carry); hence, in many ways, it corresponds to the museum. It translates the brute facts of the exhibited art objects into commentary that resembles a continuous narrative simply because it is a book that has a sequence of pages (just as the exhibition will usually have a numbered sequence of rooms and objects, its own on-the-spot catalogue).70 The 'event' of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais presented an experiential construction of the Catalogue Definitif's argument by placing the exhibition within an environment supportive of and encapsulating specific Republican government stances at the end of the nineteenth century on the use of artistic media as ideological tools. The 'event' cannot stand alone, however; only when the ephemerality of viewing is considered together with the Catalogue Definitif and other discourses surrounding and, to a large degree, creating it can the full scope of the exhibition claims be understood. The texts of the catalogues, reviews and articles are what remain to the current reader; the event, ephemeral and temporally located, cannot be 're-experienced'71 and the 'words' remain as bare bones, a kind of archaeological evidence to be reassembled to attempt to 7 0Richard Sniff, "Art History and the Nineteenth Century: Realism and Resistance," The Art Bulletin LXX, 1 (March 1988): 33. 7 1 l n fact, it is difficult even to reconstruct the exact contents of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais due to curatorial and owner penchants for re-naming works or using local or abbreviated titles for the works. In some cases, the use of generic titles (for example, 'Pieta') has made it difficult to locate which item is being discussed. Sales and donations of various works to local, national or international museums or collectors has also inhibited the tracing of exhibited works. In order to formulate a precise understanding of the exhibition, I have pieced together its contents from references made in the many reviews and articles discussing the event, although the number of works recognizable through this process is far short of the 701 works listed in the Catalogue Definitif. 39 understand what meaning was constructed around the exhibition as well as the meaning it was intended to call up to the varied 'readers' of the discourse of the exhibition's visual texts. A catalogue represents an exhibition in several senses. First, it re-presents the experience of the exhibition for contemplation at another time and in another place, with emphases, viewpoints and elisions not necessarily part of that experience. Second, the catalogue stands in for, or represents, a lived experience because it substitutes for the actual viewing of the works in the exhibition halls. Third, it acts as an embodiment of the exhibition, a textual synthesis and summary of all of the claims made visually. And, last, it leads the viewer to see objects in certain ways, constructing a form of viewing supportive of the exhibition's overall theme and stance. The Catalogue Definitif of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais as a primary textual source defining the goals of the exhibition comprises a unified argument with separate component parts providing particular kinds of information, tone and rhetorical elements to the whole.7 2 The two catalogues examined73, the Catalogue Definitif74 and the 7 2lt must be stated that the structure of this catalogue is similar to others of the period: the rosters of dignitaries, academics, patrons and committee members, the introductory essay, and the numbered catalogue entries section interspersed with plates are all standard catalogue features. 7 3 A third version of the catalogue could not be located, despite the best efforts of the University's Interlibrary Loan Department. Information available from periodicals and other sources indicates it was small, sketchily written pamphlet probably only listing the title, artist, date and location for each of the works shown; much cheaper to purchase, it was likely used as a reference sheet for the exhibition visitor. Inspection of this format might have provided additional information for this analysis, but it seems probable that the listings followed the same format as those in the other two catalogues. 7 4 This is available on microfiche at the University of British Columbia Fine Arts Library (AW5 P2708 P75). I was unable to obtain access to an original. 40 special edition Catalogue75, though similar in content and form, differ in several important aspects. The Catalogue Definitif was less ostentatiously printed and available at the exhibition itself for "deux francs net"76. The numbered, limited edition of the Catalogue printed on high quality vellum, its text reset in a more formal typeface, was available commercially outside the museum and exhibition; because of its more costly materials, it was more expensive than the Catalogue Definitif and intended for a wealthier audience, whether or not they had attended the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. In addition, the introductory essay in the Catalogue Definitif was abridged in the special edition catalogue77. Two major omissions from the special edition are noteworthy. The first omission eliminated the history of previous attempts, beginning in 1878 and continuing to the present day, to bring these works to the attention of the French public and it lulled the reader/viewer with self-congratulatory praise of its perspicacity and empathy to the art historical cause: Was it not time to renew, with more chance of success in the eyes of a better educated and more sympathetic international public, the task of rehabilitation already boldly attempted in 1878 by the Marquis de Chennevieres, Director of Fine Arts, at the exhibition of National Portraits, taken up again, from a more general point of view, by M. Emile Molinier in 7 5 This version was available in the original, but rebound form in the University of British Columbia Fine Arts Library. 76Catalogue Definitif, cover. This price placed it outside the reach of many visitors who, even if they could afford the entry fee, might have thought twice about purchasing a catalogue too. Unfortunately, the cover was too poorly reproduced on the microfiche at the U.B.C. Fine Arts Library to be included as an illustration in this thesis. 7 7 l have found no information to show where this editorial decision was made or by whom. 41 1900 at the Petit Palais, and so valiantly prepared in the interim by the ringing words of Courajod at the Ecole du Louvre.7 8 [emphasis added] For the specific audience purchasing the more expensive Catalogue, the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was thus characterized by this omission as the first, if not the only, attempt to recoup this particular French past, enhancing the curators' daring and romanticized endeavour. The Catalogue Definitif was, in fact, a direct rebuttal of the slanderous assertions made by Hulin de Loo; Lafenestre had clearly declared that the French art of this period had already been presented to the world by previous curators, but had been ignored; now the "international public" was ready to recognize the validity of his and his predecessors' claims in this splendid exhibition.79 The second omission from the special edition catalogue dealt with issues of the comparison objects and the remote location of the manuscripts section and also Lafenestre's attempts to forestall any criticism of curatorial jingoism. Readers of the special edition were spared the justification of the distant location of the manuscripts ^Catalogue Definitif, XXX-XXXI: N'etait-il pas temps de renouveler, avec plus de chances de reussite, aux yeux d'un public international, mieux instruit et plus sympathique, I'entreprise de rehabilitation deja hardiment tentee, en 1878, par le Marquis de Chennevieres, Directeur des Beaux-Arts, a I'Exposition des Portraits Nationaux, reprise, sous un point de vue plus general, par M. Em. Molinier, en 1900, au Petit Palais, et si vaillamment prepare, dans rintervalle, par la parole eclatante de Courajod a I'Ecole du Louvre. The 'Exhibition of National Portraits' refers to a show at the Exposition Universelle of 1878 and '1900' to the Exposition Retrospective at the Exposition Universelle of 1900. Louis Courajod was noted for his crowd- pleasing lectures on early French art and is cited in the Catalogue Definitif as a pioneer of the daring approach fulfilled by the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. He believed that it was "in France, and above all, in Flanders that the origins of the Renaissance were to be sought - although he rather distrusted the word because of its implication of 'rebirth' rather than of a new development" (Haskell, History and its Images, 442-3). See also Udo Kulturmann, The History of Art History (New York: Abaris Books, Inc., 1993): 196. 7 9Perhaps the assumption was that the well-travelled and -read connoisseur would be aware of the history of French attempts to establish the French primitifs in the art historical canon. 42 section of the exhibition because these paragraphs were less relevant to a reader who had not experienced the physical separation of the two parts of the exhibition. In fact, this catalogue omits the entire Bibliotheque Nationale section of the exhibition all together, effacing the role of the manuscripts as a counterpoint to and supportive display for stylistic linkages to the paintings at the Pavilion de Marsan. Equally as important for the purposes of this thesis was the claim that truth, and not 'patriotic vanity', was the sole motivation for the exhibition. Lafenestre's protestations of impartiality were thus assimilated into the 'fact' of the exhibition's occurrence; the physical presence of the catalogue was a permanent textual record of a truly scholarly endeavour, the contents of which merely presented the reader with self-evident and obvious facts: As was already done in 1878 and 1900, it was, in fact, necessary to supply, by means of several specimens of other contemporary art forms (sculpture, tapestries, miniatures, enamels, etc.) some explanatory and supporting terms of comparison without which the evolution of painting could be understood only with difficulty. As for the miniatures, the abundance of them was such that it was impossible, as it was at Bruges, to show them in the same location. Fortuitously, the Bibliotheque Nationale is not far from the Pavilion de Marsan and it does not take long to go there to admire the collection of miniatures that the special commission, under the direction of M. Omont with the enthusiastic assistance of the respected and tireless M. Leopold Delisle, has been able to reunite there. We desire, and this goes without saying, that this international gathering of experts validates the honour of the French masters; we have no intention to impose in advance even the most obvious conclusions on the enlightened souls and impartial judges. Above all, we are intent on refraining from the foolish exaggerations of patriotic vanity which are the most deplorable cause of errors and disagreements at a time when they are creeping into questions of art, history and science. Following the example of the old artists that we admire and love, we seek the truth, we desire only the truth.80 'Catalogue Definitif, XXXII: 43 Because of the omissions in the special edition catalogue, the analysis of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais presented in this thesis will focus on the Catalogue Definitif (fig. 3 - 14) because it contains the unabridged introductory essay and the entire manuscript section. In addition, the Catalogue Definitif would have circulated more widely. Available as it was at the exhibition itself, it would have reinforced the show's immediate impact on the viewer if the catalogue entries were used to explain what the viewer was seeing while seeing it. The Catalogue Definitif could also be experienced following the exhibition when the essay and entries could be read at leisure and the experience remembered and reinforced by this activity. A third factor, the Catalogue Definitif's lower cost in comparison to the special edition, would also have permitted a somewhat wider circulation. It was therefore a primary textual device through which the meaning of the exhibition was constructed for a Republican bourgeoisie. Comme on I'avait deja faire en 1878 et 1900, il etait, en effet, necessaire de fournir, par quelques specimens des autres formes de I'art contemporain, (Sculpture, Tapisserie, Miniature, Emaux, etc.) des termes de comparaison explicatifs et justificatifs sans lesquels les evolutions de la peinture se comprendraient difficilement. Pour les miniatures, I'abondance etait telle qu'il n'etait pas possible, no plus qu'a Bruges, de les exposer dans le meme local. Heureusement, la Bibliotheque Nationale n'est pas eloignee du Pavilion de Marsan, et le voyage ne sera pas trop long pour y admirer la collection d'enluminures que la commission speciale, sous la presidence de M. Omont avec le concours, toujours ardent du venerable et infatigable, M. Leopold Delisle, a pu y reunir. Nous desirons, cela va sans dires, que cette consultation internationale tourne a I'honneur des maitres frangais; nous n'avons nulle pretention d'en impose, d'avance, les conclusions, meme les plus probables, aux esprits eclaires et aux juges impartiaux. Nous tenons, avant tous, a nous garder de ces sottes exagerations de vanite patriotique qui sont las cause la plus facheuse des erreurs et des querelles, lorsqu'elles se glissent dans les questions d'art, d'histoire et de science. A I'exemple des vieux artistes que nous admirons et aimons, nous recherchons la verite, nous ne desirons que la verite. 44 The Catalogue Definitif comprised four main sections81, the administration pages, the introductory essay, the catalogue entries for the Pavilion de Marsan objects, and the section for the Bibliotheque National's exhibition of manuscripts and miniatures. Additional pages both at the beginning and as endpapers contained advertisements for the Librairie Centrale des Beaux-Arts (fig. 4) and for various art galleries, print sellers and publishing houses in Paris (fig. 5), often citing specific publications "related to the history of the French Primitives"82. The first section of the Catalogue Definitif contains listings of the various organizing committees, members of which were drawn from the hierarchical machinery of the Louvre and those government departments responsible for the public and national representations of 'France' in cultural contexts. Consideration of those listed is informative. M. Edouard Aynard, a sitting member of the Chambre des Deputes, was prominently listed as the President of the exhibition's administrative board (fig. 6). Represented here, too, were administrators from the major beaux-arts institutions of France, for example, Georges Berger, President of the Union Centrale des Arts Decoratifs and Vice-President of the Societe des Amis du Louvre, a recently organized acquisitions committee; and M. Kaempfen, the Directeur des Musees Nationaux and one of the main administrators of the exhibition. The Comites d'Organisation (fig. 7) were staffed with a variety of representatives from both the intelligentsia and the art historical publishing sphere. For example, Charles Ephrussi, director of the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, and See appendix 3 for a further analysis of these sections. Catalogue Definitif endpaper, unpaginated: "...relatifs a l'histoire des Primitifs Francais". 45 Andre Hallays, a writer for the Journal des Debats83, were both listed on the Paintings and Drawings Committee. Similarly, the Manuscript Committee boasted both rising and established art historians such as Emile Male and Paul Durrieu (also a Comte and collector of note), while the Tapestries and Enamels Committees claimed such noted members as Paul Vitry and Albert Maignan, both collectors and scholars.8 4 The Comite de Patronage, the Membres Protecteurs, and the Commissions Superieures (one each for French and foreign members) were composed of a cross-section of Europe's intellectual, political, administrative and social elite. Representatives of French society included M. Deville, President of the Conseil municipal of Paris; ex-President Sadi-Carnot as well as future president Georges Clemenceau; Emile Molinier, past-curator of the Musee du Louvre and organizer of the Retrospectives at the Exposition Universelle of 1900; and Antonin Proust, the Ministre des Beaux-Arts in the short-lived Gambetta government (1881-82) and one of the architects of state-defined fine arts policies. In addition, non-French representation on the exhibition's boards included S.A.S. le Prince de Liechtenstein; Henry Hymans, Curator of the Belgian Royal Library in Brussels; and Count Wilczek from Vienna8 5. Other, perhaps surprising, inclusions among the non- French participants on the Commission Superieure were H. Kervyn de Lettenhove, the "Though neither of these individuals actually wrote reviews, these journals were prolific in their coverage of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. The Gazette des Beaux-arts printed a total of 16 articles before and during the exhibition, most of them authored by Bouchot (6) and Lafenestre (4), while the Journal des Debats published a series of 10 review articles by Andre Michel. Other journals such as Les Arts were also represented by members on one or more committee. 8 4Maignan and Vitry were also lenders to the exhibition, as were Aynard and several other members of the Committees. 8 5 Both the Prince de Liechtenstein and Count Wilczek also loaned works to the exhibition. 46 chief organizer of the 1902 Bruges Exposition des Primitifs flamand, and Georges Hulin de Loo, that outspoken critic of the Exposition des Primitifs flamands catalogue who was so prominently cited as the cause of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais.66 What can be made of this assortment of individuals? First, all of these committee members had a vested interest in the success of, or at least controversy arising from the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Whether the exploitation of the event promoted increased the value of privately owned works, or reinforced or established an academic career, either by supporting or contesting the claims of the exhibition, most of these individuals were already part of the established order, the ruling group whose values were contained within the exhibition's values. A second consideration is that the Third Republic's moderate Republicans governed in the belief that good citizens performed their civic duty in all social matters, including monitoring and directing the cultural aspects, or, as historians Chastel and Babelon phrase it, "the intervention of the State seems to have habituated the collective and the particular to consider that the authorities should assume the responsibilities of the [nation's] patrimony in defining it and in bringing it to the public's notice."87 Another view points to an effort to unify and integrate two segments from within the elite: the older school of the connoisseur and the aristocrat mingled here with a newer class of scholars, university educated 'scientific' art specialists.88 These eeCatalogue Definitif, VIII. 87Jean-Pierre Babelon and Andre Chastel, "La notion de patrimoine," Revue de I'Art 49 (1980): 24: "L'intervention de I'Etat semble avoir habitues collective et particulier a considerer que les autorites doivent assumer la responsabilite du patrimoine dans sa definition et dans sa mise en valeur." 88Marie-Claude Genet-Delacroix, "Esthetique officielle et art national sous la Troisieme Republique," Annates: Economies Societe Civilisations 39, 5 (September-October 1984): 114-5 47 observations together speak also to the audience the Exposition des Primitifs frangais hoped to attract: the educated citizen, cognisant of the responsibilities that citizenship bestows and appreciative of the newly reformed and expanded patrimony on display in the Pavilion de Marsan and the Bibliotheque Nationale. The second major section of the Catalogue Definitif is a 22-page essay, the Introduction (fig. 9). Its author, Georges Lafenestre, was a staunch Republican, a poet and Curator of Paintings at the Musee du Louvre. Lafenestre ostensibly described in text the pictorial argument of the exhibit itself, contextualizing the works within a specifically constructed representation of a French political and cultural history. To do this, Lafenestre's essay argued that realistic portraiture and an awareness of the human figure evident in the sculptural programs of High Gothic architecture were absorbed into the lively anecdotal style of the Parisian/He de France school of manuscript illumination. From this resulted a style of panel painting, especially portraiture, different from all other art being produced elsewhere at that time in its "fresh truthfulness of its attitude, the clear vivacity of movement and gesture, the appropriate expression of the physiognomy in peaceful or moving deed"8 9 [emphasis added], all highly prized characteristics of a good Republican citizen. Lafenestre asserted that the lie de France school spread to all courts and cities ruled by or allied to France, contrary to the claims made by many academics, and explicitly those of the 1902 Bruges exhibition of Flemish primitives, that the Flemish had originated this new realistic style. The disarray of the Hundred Years War and the consequent collapse of centralized rulership had prevented the continued artistic cohesion e9Catalogue Definitif, XIX: "...la verite tranche de I'attitude, la vivacite claire du mouvement et du geste, I'expression opportune de la physiogamie dans Taction paisible ou pathetique." 48 of the now dispersed Parisian school. Although, Lafenestre assured his readers, it never completely lost "notre esprit frangais,"90 the national style was eventually diluted by foreign influences, notably Northern 'stiffness' and a Southern (read 'Italian') internationalism, into the so-called 'decadent' Ecole Fontainebleau.91 The Introduction provided historical background for the period covered, described current attribution debates, and directed the viewer to particular objects or artists within the show. Most notable among these were newly designated 'masterpieces' such as the paintings of Etienne Chevalier by Jean Fouquet (fig. 24), the Buisson Ardent by Nicolas Froment (fig. 16), the Vierge Glorieux by Enguerrand Charonton (fig. 17), and the anonymous Pieta of Villeneuve-les-Avignon (fig. 18), all of which had been little known outside their original regional sites. The Introduction's impassioned language and persuasive rhetorical devices, however, exceeded its purely informational goals and were specifically aimed at convincing a identifiably French audience or reader of the validity of the presented argument and of the catalogue's construction of 'France', French art, and the French character. The frequent use of phrases such as "la vieille famille frangaise", "les Gaulois, nos ancetres", "cette entreprise frangaise"92, illustrate the fervour of the presentation, a rallying cry "to make amends as far as possible for the injustices of a long 9°Catalogue Definitif, XIV. 9 1Haskell (in History and Its Images, 442) quotes academic and lecturer Louis Courajod's 1899-1903 work, Les On'gines de la Renaissance en France (Volume II, 12), in which Courajod called Italy "the last born child of the Renaissance" ("le dernier-ne fils de la Renaissance"), relegating Italy to a tertiary status after the Lowlands and France. In the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, Bouchot and Lafenestre attempted to move France in front of the Lowlands as inheritor of the premier place in European art development. 9 zPhrases selected from the Catalogue Definitif, XXVIII, XI, and XXIV. 49 oversight concerning our venerable painters".93 The 'story' was structured in a strictly linear fashion and combined logically organized information with the vocabulary and passion of the melodramatic and romantic literature of the period and emphasizing the heroic aspects of this struggle. Lafenestre characterized both France's vulnerable geography (an allusion to the sensitive issue of the invasion of France and the nation's territorial losses during the Franco-Prussian War) and the complex and accepting nature of the French to welcome outside influences as reasons that explained why the French primitifs had not been more widely accepted as renaissance masterpieces. It would only be through the persistent and dedicated efforts of learned and enlightened scholars, Lafenestre declaimed, that such obvious proof of French genius could now be presented to public and international scrutiny. The roll call he recited was indeed prestigious: What courageous and lengthy efforts had to be made by so many scholars, archaeologists, and poets in order to triumph over obscurity during the nineteenth century: Chateaubriand, Emeric David, Victor Hugo, de Caumont, Vitet, Merimee, Viollet-le-Duc, Lassus, Quicherat, Courajod, etc.! What patience and good will was necessary in the associations founded or inspired by them...to save, not without difficulty, the few relics, always threatened, of the most magnificent patrimony of art that an ancient people, working tirelessly, have ever bequeathed to its children. Blessed are these dead, seeing that they have accomplished their "Catalogue Definitif, XIII: "...de reparerdans la mesure possible, les injustices d'un long oubli a I'egard de nos vieux peintres." ^Catalogue Definitif, XII-XIII: Quels courageux et longs efforts, pour triompher de ces tenebres on du faire au XIXs siecle tat d'erudits, d'archeologues, de poetes, d'artistes: Chateaubriand, Emeric David, Victor Hugo, de Caumont, Vitet, Merimee, Violet-le Due, Lassus, Quicherat, Courajod, etc! Que de patience et de volonte il a fallu encore aux associations fondees ou inspirees par eux,...pour sauver, non sans peine, quelques reliques, toujours menacees, du plus magnifique patrimoine d'art que jamais un vieux peuple, infatigablement laborieux, ait jamais legue a ses enfants! 50 Lafenestre's highly emotive language, certainly typical of much writing of this period, constructed the recognition of a 'true' French art, understood as a kind of national 'Holy Grail', that is, as a long and unheralded quest finally and successfully completed. The third large section of the Catalogue Definitif, the catalogue entries themselves presented yet another construction: a listing of each work in the exhibition, not necessarily in the order in which they were viewed. Edited by Henri Bouchot9 5 with contributions by individual curators in catalogue sections other than Paintings and Drawings, the entries contained different kinds of contextualizing information, the purpose for which was the simultaneous construction of a contemporary viewership as well as a retrospective representation of an earlier citizenry whose attributes predicted the current apex of French development - the Third Republic. This end was achieved through several techniques. The language of this section changed its tone and quality as a counterpoint to the Introduction's hyperbole and passion. Here language is logical, orderly, linear and descriptive: the language of historical positivism, of evidence being presented to a knowledgeable viewer. The intention was not to persuade, but to prove the claims that had been made more floridly in the Introduction. Citations of lineage, academic authorities, provenance and stylistic analysis replaced the descriptive and emotive. The catalogue entries in this section vary considerably in length and complexity of argument, but the tone never does. Several excerpts can serve to illustrate this point. Bouchot used academic tactics such as identifying iconographical elements and historical events Benis soient ces morts, puisqu'ils ont accompli leur oeuvre! 95Bouchot, an art historian and a long-time Bibliotheque Nationale curator nearing the end of his career, was elected to the Academie the same year as the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. 51 to construct a body of evidence supporting the essay's more evocatively phrased claims of both attribution and artistic and aesthetic excellence. For example, an extensive entry for the painting of Saint Victor et donateur by the Maitre de Moulins, c. 1480 (fig. 19), compared the>.armorial emblems in the former with those previously documented in a known and attributed work, the painting of Etienne Chevalier (fig. 24), thereby verifying its authorship and identifying the figure portrayed as an eminent personage associated with the rulership of France. Bouchot emphasized the obviousness of such a conclusion: One cannot stop oneself from thinking of the correlation between the picture we are describing and that of Etienne Chevalier of the Berlin Museum....The canon is a prince of the house of France, the fleur de lys on the armour seems to indicate it. This figure has been read as King Rene, but M. le comte Durrieu suggests Charles III of Anjou, nephew of King Rene, in the garb of an 'avoue' of St. Victor of Marseille [i.e., a knight of the Church].9 6 In Bouchot's commentary on another exhibited work (fig. 20), Jean Fouquet's Portrait de Charles VII (c. 1445), the catalogue entry cited the painting's legend in order to connect the subject to a known miniature and to relevant historical events as a means of establishing an unmistakeable lineage: The name of the person depicted is supplied to us by the frame on which a legend in special script invented by Jean Fouquet and found in a large number of the miniatures of the Livre d'Heures conserved at Chantilly: THE MOST VICTORIOUS KING OF FRANCE CHARLES THE VII BY NAME....For one to dare to give that name to him, it was necessary that the prince earn the title of Victorious; it was not difficult that after the battle of Formigny, on April 15th, 1450 and above all after the conquest of Guyenne in 1453, for Catalogue Definitif, 4 9 ( # 1 0 6 ) : On ne peut s'empecher de penser a la correlation entre le tableau que nous decrivons et I'Etienne Chevalier du Musee du Berlin..Le chanoine est un prince de la maison de France, la fleur de lys de la cuirasse du saint le semble indiquer....On a vu dans le personnage le roi Rene lui-meme, mais M. le Comte Durrieu propose Charles III d'Anjou, neveu du roi Rene, en costume d'avoue de Saint-Victor de Marseille. 52 him to lay claim to it. But the king seems to have been about 40 years of age; in 1453, he was 50 years old. Someone therefore has not waited for the later victories and one is obliged to distinguish the title of Victorious from the time of the conference at Arras (1444).97 The rigorous and logical analysis and so-called conclusive proof offered in these and other entries are presented in measured, generally non-emotive vocabulary. Such entries, combining documentary information with speculation in a relatively seamless presentation, involved the reader and viewer in a supportive, consensual agreement with the evidence presented. At the same time, Bouchot emphasized historical information that called attention to victories by the state of France, easing recollections of more recent French defeats. Bouchot also reclassified many works within the established hierarchy of academic genres. Appendix 1 shows that over half of the exhibited works (53%) are on overtly religious themes; Bouchot's entries for such works continued his emphasis on chronicling the history of the French state. He thus re-presented them within the discourse of history paintings by describing the public role of each identifiable personage in the painting, and at the same time effacing the religious meaning and associations of the subject matter. These works are thereby resituated as documents of French history worthy of study by Catalogue Definitif, 16 (#38): Le nom du personnage represents nous est fourni part le cadre, dans une legende en caracteres speciaux imagines par Jean Fouquet et retrouves dans la plupart des miniatures du Livre d'Heures conserve a Chantilly: LE TRES VICTORIEUX ROY DE FRANCE CHARLES SEPTIESME DE C E NOM.... Pour qu'on osat lui donner ce nom il fallait que le pince meritat le titre de Victorieux; ce ne fut guere qu'apres la bataille de Formigny, le 15 avril 1450, et surtout apres la conquete de la Guyenne en 1453, qu'il eut pu le revendiquer. Mais le roi parait age ici d'une quarantaine d'annees; en 1453, il eut eu cinquante ans. On n'avait done pas attendu les victoires finales et on avait du lui decerner le titre de Victorieux des ka conference d'Arras (1444). 53 serious academics, rather than as objects intended for religious veneration. For example, the description of the painting, Miracle d'un saint portant sa tete dans ses mains, en presence des donateurs, school of Nicolas Froment, c.1480 (fig. 21), recounts how Saint Mitre, a 5th century Greek convert to Christianity, proved his sanctity by walking from the scaffold to the cathedral carrying his head under his arm. The factual terms of the account evacuated the miraculous aspect of the original legend, removing all sense of religious wonder typically associated with the depiction. Instead, the donors, Jacques de la Roque and his unnamed wife, became more central players in the historical drama, both visually with their painted figures flanking that of the headless saint in the centre of the panel and textually with the entry emphasizing how they fulfilled their socially and politically prominent roles as founders of the hospital at Aix. Originally foregrounded in their religious duties, their roles were now de-sacralized in the catalogue to be more identifiably civic in orientation. The scene thus was represented more as an episode in French history than as an event inspiring religious devotion.98 This biographical emphasis in the Catalogue Definitif is consistent with the style of French historical scholarship in this period in which the personalities of the past were used as metonyms for the period in which they lived.99 Heavily based in archival texts as well as the positivism of Auguste Comte 1 0 0 , studies of the portrait were one manifestation of these trends; here the frequent references to the personalities and achievements of donors 9BCatalogue Definitif, 38 (#80). "Green, 77. See also Francois Furet, 'The Birth of History in France," In the Workshop of History, trans. Jonathan Mandelbaum (Chicago and London: The University of Chicago Press, 1984). 100Kulturmann, 104. 54 represented in these works paralleled the general predominance of portraiture and can be seen as a link to the Bloc Republican's valuing of individual accomplishments of citizens in modern French society. An interesting counterpoint to the Introduction and the catalogue entries for the Paintings and drawings section of the Catalogue Definitif is the fourth section devoted to the Manuscripts at the Bibliotheque Nationale. The title, "Manuscrits a Peintures" (fig. 13), restated the continuity argument of Lafenestre's introductory essay, linking artistic stylistics of manuscript production with the development of French primitif painting. This section, however, shows a marked difference to the integrated and mutually supportive arguments of the earlier introductory essay, the catalogue entries for the paintings and drawings for the exhibit at the Pavilion de Marsan. The separate physical layout of the display of the manuscripts at the Bibliotheque Nationale, already discussed in Chapter 1, was reinforced by a separate introduction, under the title, "Avis"1 0 1. This new section, seemingly produced independent of the rest of the exhibition by the Bibliotheque Nationale, explained how the curator(s) had arranged the displayed objects in chronological order from the 13th to the 16th century. In addition, the objects were meticulously displayed: for example, "three cases, marked with the letters A, B, C,...dedicated to twenty-seven manuscripts from the Bibliotheque de I'Arsenal and case 1 0 1 According to The Concise Oxford French Dictionary (Second edition, 1980), this word can be variously defined as 'statement of opinion,' 'announcement,' and 'judgement'. All of these elements could be used in reference to the content and, to the reader, its use sets this section apart from the rest of the catalogue. 55 XX to nine manuscripts from the famous collection of Mr. Henry Yates Thompson".1 0* The manuscript section of the Catalogue Definitif gave explicit instructions to the visitor to move down the aisles in a specific sequence from right to left from the front of the room to the back. Each item displayed was listed in the catalogue, specified by case (e.g., Vitrine IV) or site (e.g., Vestibule)103; for example, the page in figure 15 clearly shows that the Breviaire de Paris manuscript (#12) can be viewed in Case IV.104 The experience of the visitor at the Bibliotheque Nationale was thus more controlled and delineated in the manuscript section of the Catalogue Definitif than in the section discussing the paintings and drawings shown at the Pavilion de Marsan. The curators orchestrated the movements of the viewer and more precisely related the manuscript catalogue entries to the particular location at which it could be seen. In textual terms, the Bibliotheque Nationale portion of the exhibition can be read as an extensive footnote to the main part of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, a 'proof to the curators' claims of the formal linkage between manuscript production and the school of French primitives. In addition, the status of manuscripts as part of a complex library cataloguing system also differentiated these works from the paintings; for example, the entry for item #9, the manuscript Les Grandes Chroniques de France (fig. 14) was annotated with a unique 10ZCatalogue Definitif, 1: "...trois vitrines, marquees des lettres A, B, C, ont ete consacrees a vingt-sept manuscrits de la Bibliotheque de I'Arsenal et la vitrine XX a neuf manuscrits de la celebre collection de M. Henry Yates Thompson." Please note that page numbering restarts in this section of the catalogue, another indication of the separate treatment in the two parts of the Catalogue Definitif. 103Catalogue Definitif, 2. 1 0 4 There is no indication of a reverse cross-reference so that an object seen in a particular case can be easily identified in the catalogue. Note that, in fig. 14, the objects are numbered sequentially, but not in parallel sequence by case numbers and location. The Catalogue Definitif s text can be seen as in conflict with and dominant over the experiential elements of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. 56 identifier, "Sainte Genevieve, n° 782," indicating that this exhibit item is part of the Bibliotheque Sainte-Genevieve on loan to the exhibition. No such ordered and organized thinking similarly catalogued the paintings of the other great institution represented at the Exposition des Primitifs frangais: the Louvre. Neither the Introduction nor the catalogue entries for the paintings and drawings, although numerically and chronologically sequenced, gave the visitor any such instructions on how to view the works displayed; only the numerical sequence of the catalogue entries provided any semblance of structured viewing. In fact, the part of the Catalogue Definitif dealing with the Pavilion de Marsan was not intended to provide guidance on how to experience the visual display. Georges Lafenestre and Henri Bouchot had created an interrelated dialogic text of the Introduction and the Catalogue entries, exclusive of the manuscript section. The Catalogue Definitif was created as a 'unit of discourse': the linear, syntagmatic construction of the Introduction was bound together with the associative references of the Catalogue entries to create a mutually reinforcing argument for the establishment of a French primitifs. The poetic troping of the logic and rhetoric of the Introduction combined with the themes of portraiture, civic and secular duty to the state, and the qualities of realism, 'truth' and Frenchness, and were repeated throughout the catalogue entries in order to produce the specific ideological message of the Catalogue Definitif. By not referring to the experiential qualities of a stipulated viewing structure for the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, the Catalogue Definitif 57 thus ruled over that experience and re/presented a textual manifestation of the visual argumentation of the exhibition.105 1 0 5Stephen Bann, The Clothing of Clio (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1984): 35-36; and Hayden White, 'The Question of Narrative in Contemporary Historical Theory," History and Theory 23, 1 (1984): 17. See also Hans Kellner, Language and Historical Representation: Getting the Story Crooked (Madison, WI and London: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1989). 58 CHAPTER THREE REPRESENTATION AS 'CATALOGUE' ...French art is dedicated to the immortality of the race, of the people or of the French nation, the "genius of France", sublimating and transcending all divisions, all dramas, all the incidents of the history of man, of class and of parties, into a system of aesthetic values and unified historical accounts, which embody, represent and enliven national sentiments, in a French society likewise convinced of its power and its cultural and artistic superiority.106 The Exposition des Primitifs frangais, as event and catalogue together, presented a unified, art-historical argument seeking to expand the academic spectrum to include notions of a French renaissance equal to and parallel with the paradigm of the Italian Renaissance and as counterpoint to the Flemish claims for equal recognition. But what else was this exhibition saying about the state of France, its people and the nation's current position within both the European and international spheres? Were there other issues imbedded within the rhetoric of historical development and lineage, within the impassioned call to arms to right a wrong, that go beyond the ostensible claims for academic and connoisseur acceptance? In this chapter the arguments presented in the Catalogue Definitif are read differently to provide an alternate and expanded interpretation of the relevance of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais far more resonant in the 1 0 6Marie-Claude Genet-Delacroix, "Esthetique officielle et art national sous la Troisieme Republique," Annates: Economies Societe Civilisations 39, 5 (Sept.-Oct. 1984): 117-118: ...[L]'art frangais consacre-t-il I'immoralite de la race, du peuple ou de la nation frangaise, le «genie de la France», sublimant et transcendant toutes les divisions, tous les drames, tous les accidents de I'historie des hommes, des classes et des partis, dans un systeme de valeurs esthetique et historique unifie, qui incarne, represente et vivifie le sentiment national, dans une societe frangaise ainsi convaincue de sa puissance et de sa superiorite culturelle et artistique. 59 contemporary milieu of early twentieth century France than its seemingly limited sphere of art. In another sense then, the exhibition can be seen as 'cataloguing' a set of political and social issues and concerns of the country from the point of view of the governing Republicans. The Catalogue Definitif presents three interrelated areas of argumentation to claim a French primitif equal to that of the Italian and Flemish: linguistic and cultural homogeneity, anti-clericalism, and stylistic proselytization. These arguments relate, however, to larger French and international milieus and it is apparent that the content, style and tone of the Catalogue Definitif is intertwined with both internal and external issues and debates on Republicanism and national identity which, in early twentieth century France, were fraught with gradations of meaning. The catalogue is positioned within these debates to support what were specifically Republican ideas of the 'Nation' as bourgeois, stable, and unified. Cultural and Linguistic Homogeneity The first area of argumentation in the catalogue's claim for an Ecole des Primitifs francaise centred on specific notions of linguistic, geographic and cultural homogeneity. Throughout the Catalogue Definitif, both the Introduction and the catalogue entries made claims that artists who were French-speaft/ng. artists who worked at French courts, and even artists with francophone names, all became French artists. These disparate individuals were assimilated and gallicized ("assimiler,...franciser", according to 60 L a f e n e s t r e ) . 1 0 7 F o r e x a m p l e , in d i s c u s s i n g the international c h a r a c t e r of t h e P a r i s ateliers, L a f e n e s t r e in his e s s a y c l a i m s "[a]lmost all, a p p r e n t i c e s a s m u c h a s m a s t e r s , c a m e f r o m A r t o i s , Hainaut, B r a b a n t , s o u t h e r n F l a n d e r s , all p r o v i n c e s with a F r e n c h l a n g u a g e a n d culture, g o v e r n e d b y v a s s a l p r i n c e s a n d relatives of t h e F r e n c h k i n g . " 1 0 8 S e v e r a l p a g e s later, L a f e n e s t r e reiterated this point e v e n m o r e s t r o n g l y , c l a i m i n g n o w that e v e n t h e great ' F l e m i s h ' painters J a n v a n E y c k a n d R o g i e r v a n d e r W e y d e n w e r e F r e n c h b e c a u s e their s o u l s w e r e a b l e t o d e a l s o o p e n l y with the simplicity of n a t u r e a n d realistic p o r t r a y a l s that w e r e , a c c o r d i n g to L a f e n e s t r e , s o F r e n c h in c h a r a c t e r . E v e n t h e Italians r e c o g n i z e d this, c l a i m e d L a f e n e s t r e , b e c a u s e t h e y g a v e t h e epithet of ' G a l l i c u s ' t o b o t h artists: N e v e r t h e l e s s , the b a s e itself, the s o u l , r e m a i n s a natural d e v e l o p m e n t of F r e n c h art, with a m o r e experimental return to the simplicity s t r o n g a m o n g the s c u l p t o r s of the thirteenth c e n t u r y a n d a m o r e e x p a n s i v e a w a r e n e s s of outer nature a n d of p r o x i m a t e realities. T h e d a y w h e n o n e w a n t s to u n d e r s t a n d this art c o m p l e t e l y , o n e m u s t b r i n g t o g e t h e r t h e w o r k s f r o m A r t o i s with all t h o s e , at least, of o l d Hainault. R o g i e r d e la P a s t u r e (van d e r W e y d e n ) « R o g e r u s Gallicus» to the Italians, like J a n v a n E y c k is « J o h a n n e s G a l l i c u s » , a n d his c o m p a t r i o t s f r o m T o u r n a i , with l a n g u a g e a n d instincts s o F r e n c h , w o u l d truly h a v e the right to t a k e part in this c o l l a b o r a t i o n . 1 0 9 107Catalogue Definitif, XVIII. 10BCatalogue Definitif, XVII: "Presque tous, apprentis plus que maltres, arrivaient de I'Artois, du Hainaut, du Brabant, des Flandres meridionales, toutes provinces de langue et de culture francaise, gouvernees par les princes vassaux et parents du roi de France." 109Catalogue Definitif, XXIV: Toutefois, le fond meme, I'esprit, reste un developpement naturel de I'art frangais, aven un retour plus experiments vers la simplicity forte des sculpteurs du XIII6 et une intelligence plus etendue de la nature exterieure et des realites prochaines. Le jour ou Ton voudra connaitre cet art d'une facon complete, il faudra joindre aux oeuvres de 'Artois toutes celles, au moins, de I'ancien Hainaut. Rogier de la Pasture (van der Weyden) «Rogerus Gallicus» pour les Italiens, comme Jan van Eyck est «Johannes Gallicus», Rogier et ses compatriotes les Tournaisiens, de langue et de sentiments si frangais, auraient bien le droit de prendre part a ces concours. 61 In this way, Lafenestre's argument contested Flemish claims to the production of specific artists by reinscribing their nationality as French or French-related. If a Flemish painter worked within the geographical boundaries of France, he therefore became French. The catalogue entry for item #16, a painting dated to c. 1400 (fig. 22), thus claimed that "[t]he Le Martyre de Saint Denis is considered to be the work of Jean Maelwael called Malouel, a Gueldrois painter settled at Dijon around 1398, and who became French just like the German Memling, established in Flanders, became Flemish."1 1 0 This line of argumentation was especially strongly stated when Lafenestre described the earlier stages of French artistic autonomy in the fourteenth century when he asserted that French painters had differentiated their style from that in Flemish work. Lafenestre's arguments in this area were supported by Bouchot's catalogue entries which developed, or rather identified, geographical and physiological 'Frenchness' in the works displayed. For example, in the description of a School of Touraine panel from c. 1480 (item #64, La Vierge et sainte Anne sur un trone avec Dieu le Pere, deux anges et deux saints), Bouchot insisted that "[t]he two women, the Virgin and Saint Anne, have very French facial characteristics, without any rapport, even vaguely, with the Virgins of Flanders. The angels are also very close to the French angels in the manuscripts."111 n°Catalogue Definitif, 8: "Le Martyre de saint Denis est considere comme l'oeuvre de Jean Maelwael dit Malouel, peintre Gueldrois etabli a Dijon vers 1398, et qui devint un Francais comme I'allemand Memling, etabli en Flandre, devint un Flamand." inCatalogue Definitif, 28 (#64): "Les deux femmes, la Vierge et sainte Anne ont les physionomies tres franchises, sans rapports, meme lointaine, avec les Vierges des Flandres. Les anges sont aussi tres proches des anges francais des manuscrits." The Catalogue Definitif entries are full of such references to the manuscripts section, which further emphasized the separate location of the Bibliotheque Nationale portion of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Regrettably, I was unable to locate this painting for inclusion in this thesis. 62 And again, for catalogue item #109, the La Vierge et I'Enfant Jesus avec quatre anges (fig. 23), attributed to the Maitre de Moulins (c. 1490), Bouchot explained that "the Virgin is an undisputed Frenchwoman; the type shown here has been preserved as a further example of one."1 1 2 Geographical references to French locations abound in the catalogue entries, further buttressing the essential Frenchness identified by Bouchot. The following excerpt concerning a School of Paris work (c. 1490) entitled Le Christ descendu de la croix en presence d'un religieux stands as an example: The calvary, considering the background which represents Saint-Germain- des-Pres, the Seine, the Louvre and Montmartre, seems to be located not far from Montparnasse....The interest in this picture, which has a beautiful appearance of art, resides in the representation of the abbey of Saint- Germain-des-Pres, the Louvre and Montmartre.113 Thus again, the painting of religious devotion has been 're-inscribed' by Bouchot into an historical travelogue of fifteenth century France. These arguments are coherent with other analyses of late nineteenth-century Republican support for notions of the homogenized linguistic, geographic and cultural unity. Etienne Balibar points out that France had long regarded linguistic uniformity as a political necessity essential to the country's nationhood: The French 'revolutionary nation' accorded a privileged place to the symbol of language in its own initial process of formation; it bound political unity closely to linguistic uniformity, the democratization of the state to the 112Catalogue Definitif, 51: "...la Vierge est un indiscutable francaise; le type qu'elle nous montre s'est conserve encore a peu pres tel." U3Catalogue Definitif, 43 (#92): Le calvaire, etant donnes les fonds qui representent Saint-Germain-des-Pres, la Seine, le Louvre et Montmartre, paralt etre place non loin de Montparnasse....L'interet de ce tableau, qui a une belle tenue d'art, reside surtout dans la representation de I'abbaye de Sainte- Germain-des-Pres, du Louvre et de Montmartre. Unfortunately I was unable to locate the painting based on the information contained in this entry. 63 coercive repression of cultural 'particularisms', local patois being the object on which it became fixated....'Nativism' had always been implicit in the history of French national ideology until, at the end of the nineteenth century, colonization on the one hand, and an intensification of the importation of labour and the segregation of manual workers by means of their ethnic origin on the other, led to the constitution of the phantasm of the 'French race'. 1 1 4 There were two main tactics by which the Republicans had fostered this ideology of unification. One was by legislating the standardization of French language use and education throughout the country, and the second was by promoting the French state as a long-standing legal and historic entity. Balibar has also noted that the act of imagining a collective national identity permitted the elision of internal differences and helped to focus potentially divisive internal tensions towards externally identifiable 'others': By constituting the people as a fictively ethnic unity against the background of a universalistic representation which attributed to each individual one - and only one - ethnic identity and which thus divides up the whole of humanity between different ethnic groups corresponding potentially to so many nations, national ideology does much more than justify the strategies employed by the state to control populations. It inscribes their demands in advance in a sense of belonging in the double sense of the term - both what it is that makes one belong to oneself and also what makes one belong to other fellow human beings. Which means that one can be interpellated, as an individual, in the name of the collectivity whose name one bears. The naturalization of belonging and the sublimation of the ideal nation are two aspects of the same process, [emphasis in original]115 The principle of a French-speaking 'nation' had first arisen in the revolutionary era of the 1790's when the use of regional languages continued to be linked with the power 1 1 4Etienne Balibar, 'The Nation Form: History and Ideology," Race, Nation, Class: Ambiguous Identities, trans. Chris Turner, ed. Etienne Balibar and Immanuel Wallerstein (London and New York: Verso, 1991): 104. 1 1 5Balibar, 96. 64 of the Catholic Church and the Ancien Regime.1 1 6 The homogenization of the French had accelerated particularly since the 1890's with the passage of legislation standardizing the use of French language and laicizing the educational system. 1 1 7 As recently as 1903, the use of Breton, Basque, Provencal and Flemish had been abolished in all religious instruction, effectively undermining local clerical influence.118 Such linguistic policies effectively annexed non-French-speaking regions into a Republican-defined, French-speaking, national entity to privilege centrist needs over regional ones. Regional patois were thus devalued and defined as the languages of the uneducated and powerless.1 1 9 This concern for cultural and linguistic homogeneity can also be extended to encompass other considerations. The late nineteenth century was a time of shifting demographics: French population growth had stabilized in the last decades of the nineteenth century, forcing recourse to immigration to fill the employment needs of the 1 1 6 E v e n before the Revolution, the Ancien Regime had sought to impose a unifying linguistic principle to France. According to both Pierre Achard ("History and the Politics of Language in France," History Workshop 10 (Autumn 1980): 175-176) and Caroline C. Ford ("Which Nation? Language, Identity and Republican Politics in Post-revolutionary France," History of European Ideas 17, 1 (1993): 32-35), the 1539 Villers-Cotterets decree during the reign of Francis I attempted to use language to centralize authority in Paris by legislating that all proclamations and laws would be in French only. Both authors agree that "linguistic uniformity did not become a political and cultural goal until the Revolution and, more specifically, until the establishment of the first French Republic" (Ford, 33). Others (including Mayeur and Reberioux) suggest that concerted efforts to legislate language uniformity did not occur until the middle of the Third Republic. 1 1 7 F o r a full discussion of this topic, see Eugen Weber, Peasants into Frenchmen: The Modernization of Rural France 1870-1914 (Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press, 1976). n 8 A c h a r d , 180; Ford, 37. 1 1 9 F r e d Orton and Griselda Pollock, "Les Donnees Bretonnantes: La Prairie de representation," Art History 3, 3 (September 1980): 329; Ernest Gellner, Culture, Identity, and Politics (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987): 17; and Achard, 177. 65 burgeoning industrial corridors of the northwest. Immigration of foreign workers to fill this need came primarily from Belgium and Italy, the two countries specifically targeted in the Exposition des Primitifs frangais in its re-writing of the European Renaissance. This meant that, by 1905, 5% of the population, or over a million non-French born individuals, could be identified in the census. 1 2 0 However, despite, or perhaps because of this dependence on foreign workers, many of whom took low-paying industrial work that the French-born would not, there was a distrust of 'foreigners' who took French wages back to their own countries and did not participate in the French economy or commit to the Nation by becoming citizens.121 And the Republicans, having built on Renan-esque theories of consensual nationhood, were seeking a "common, organic, trans-historical national community", an Enlightenment conception of community in which "...the universalism of Jacobinism is presented in opposition to the particularism of regional, cultural, ethnic and other minorities"122 at the same time as industrial sectors of the 1 2 0Philip E. Ogden, "International migration in the nineteen than twentieth centuries," Migrants in Modern France: Population Mobility in the Later Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, ed. Philip E. Ogden and Paul E. White (London: Unwin Hyman, 1989): 40-45; and Olivier Milza, Les Frangais devant I'immigration, Questions au XX" siecle (Brussels: Editions Complexe, 1988): 21. Not only were Belgian and Italian immigrants (approximately 310,000 and 350,000 respectively) settling in northwest and southeast border regions, there was also in-migration to the Paris basin and other large towns throughout the country. In fact, Paris had approximately 16% of the entire country's foreign population, higher than any comparable centre in Europe (43). 121Lientacker, 180. Only approximately 375,000 of the over one million became naturalized citizens in this period (Ogden, 40). 1 2 2 Maxim Silverman, Deconstructing the nation: Immigration, racism and citizenship in modern France, Critical Studies in Racism and Migration, ed. Robert Miles (London and New York: Routledge, 1992): 23-25. Emphasis in original. 66 country were eager for an influx of workers123. This resulted in tensions between creating the sense of the political and inviolable whole and supporting politically influential economic forces in the regions, between the need for an assimilationist agenda creating the nation-state and the exclusionary tendencies in the face of regional inflows, and between the ideal 'France' of Republican ideology and the practical needs of industrialists in the northwest and southeast.124 When the reader or viewer studied the Catalogue Definitif, the notions of French language, French geographical integrity, and French political history were all re-created into French cohesiveness, despite the contemporary evidence to the contrary. Anti-clericalism/Anti-papalism The second main argument in the Catalogue Definitif incorporates notions of anti-clerical and anti-papal constructs into its art historical claims. Long demonized as anti-democratic and as diverting citizen loyalties to an external authority, Roman Catholicism had been a point of attack in Republican thought and policies since 1879 when government legislation first began to exclude clerical teachers from the school system.1 2 5 Allusions to anti- papal politics were somewhat veiled, but remained identifiable. The Catalogue Definitif essay went out of its way to emphasize the lay spirit underlying the paintings in the 1 2 3Philip Nord, "Social defence and conservative regeneration: the national revival, 1900-14," Nationhood and Nationalism in France: From Boulangism to the Great War, 1989-1918, ed. Robert Tombs (London and New York: Harper Collins Academic, 1991): 214-5. 1 2 4Silverman, 17. 1 Z 5Anderson, 23, 92; Mayeur and Reberioux, 150-1. 67 Pavilion de Marsan. For example, it referred to the changing stylistic in manuscript illuminations as "the rapid emancipation, under the influence of lay scholars, of the observing spirit and human sensibilities".126 Lafenestre also made reference to the importation of numerous Italian painters, including Simone Martini, to the (French) papal court in Avignon in 1309127, but hastened to add that "nevertheless the Parisians were not at all corroded by these influences, too transient or too far away, of an art in development like their own."1 2 8 Nevertheless, the implication that a Papal court was encouraging foreign influences was very clearly stated. The language and focus of the catalogue overtly emphasized secular stylistic sources for the displayed art, thereby confounding the conflation of clerical and monarchical which was present throughout the Catalogue Definitif. At one level the aestheticization of religious imagery served to titillate the viewer's eye and not the viewer's religious belief. In turn, by making the objects 'French' and 'Republican' the religious associations of the images were correspondingly elided. This goal had already been partially accomplished with the removal of the art works from their original and functional settings in churches, chapels, or monasteries, and placing them within the state's secular equivalent, the museum which served as the repository of the national patrimony and as 1Z6Catalogue Definitif, XVI: "la rapide emancipation, sous I'influence des lettres la'ique, de I'esprit observateur et de la sensibilite humaine." 127Catalogue Definitif, XVIII. 1ZBCatalogue Definitif, XVII: "Neanmoins, les Parisiens ne se laissent point encore entamer par ces influences, trop passageres ou trop lointaines, d'un art en formation comme leur." Note the term Parisian even though Lafenestre is writing about southern France. 68 a new-found cult object.1 2 9 An extreme example from the catalogue entries, items #40- 42, the Melun Diptych by Jean Fouquet, dating from c. 1450, serves well here. The right wing of the diptych (fig. 15) depicts the Virgin Mary, but is allegedly a portrait of Agnes Sorel, the mistress of Charles Vll. As such, it was read as a display of the individualistic and realistic attributes of portraiture as opposed to a more formulaic Madonna. Etienne Chevalier, the painting's donor and Treasurer of France, is shown on the left wing of the diptych (fig. 24). In the 2-1/2 page catalogue entry for this work1 3 0, Bouchot reported the gossip surrounding the famous Agnes Sorel and her patronage of Chevalier, effectively intermixing the latter's service to the court and his role in government with scandalous details of their supposed liaison. Bouchot thereby completely eliminated any possible consideration of the work in religious terms, despite its title, and dwelled on its worldly connections: At Melun, where the work was hung on the wall of the cathedral, it was located in the exact place of the tomb of Etienne Chevalier and his wife Catherine Bude, dead in 1452 and represented with her husband on a brass tomb plate. A very old legend has it that the Virgin of the diptych has the traits of Agnes Sorel, mistress of King Charles Vll and protector of Master Etienne Chevalier, one is astonished that Catherine Bude does not appear in the composition and it was thought that the alleged Agnes Sorel was really the wife of the Treasurer....As we have stated, Agnes Sorel had named him executor of her will and the slightly scandalous, and improbable, story 1 2 9 There has been a considerable amount of work on the topic of museums and their role in constructing meaning. The most useful for my purposes have been: Carol Duncan, "Art Museums and the Ritual of Citizenship," Exhibiting Culture: The Poetics and Politics of Museum Display, ed. Ivan Karp and Steven D. Lavine (Washington and London: Smithsonian Institution Press, 1991); Duncan and Wallach, "The Universal Survey Museum,"; Sherman, 'The Bourgeoisie, Cultural Appropriation, and the Art Museum in Nineteenth- Century France,"; and Sherman, Worthy Monuments. ^Catalogue Definitif, 17-20. 69 imputes to a great shared passion the absence of Catherine Bude from the diptych.1 3 1 Analysis of the exhibition contents (see appendix 1) presents another aspect of this tendency. From the predominate category of objects, that is painting, the breakdown of subject matter between secular and religious is close to 50-50, or more exactly, 32% secular and 31.5% religious, with overall totals of 47% secular and 53% religious subjects for the entire Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Yet, in relating these relationships back to the actual descriptive passages about the individual works, it becomes immediately apparent that the religious content of the paintings was used only as an identificatory label or as a stylistic marker. Thus, in one instance, an analysis of the Virgin Mary was used only to make a comparison with another known painting. This is the case with the painting of the L'Adoration des Bergers of c. 1430 (fig. 27), which was attributed in the catalogue to the Ecole de I'Artois (Le Maitre de Flemalle). Here Bouchot wrote: "Among the figures, the type of Virgin, with her hair tucked behind her ears, is that of Eve in the earthly paradise in the Tres Riches Heures, etc.; her white mantle studded with stars is 131Catalogue Definitif, 17-19: A Melun, ou l'oeuvre etait attachee a la muraille de la cathedrale, elle surmontait I'endroit precis de la sepulture d'Etienne Chevalier et de sa femme Catherine Bude, morte en 1452 et representee avec son mari sur une plate tombe de cuivre. Comme une legende fort ancienne voulait que la Vierge du diptyque fut representee sous les traits d'Agnes Sorel, maltresse du roi Charles VII et protectrice de maitre Etienne Chevalier, on s'etonnait que Catherine Bude ne parut pas dans la composition, et on pensait que la pretendue Agnes Sorel etait vraisemblablement la femme du tresorier...Comme nous I'avons dit, Agnes Sorel I'avait nomme son executeur testamentaire, et la chronique un peu scandaleuse, mal invraisemblable, attribuait a une passion partagee I'absence de Catherine Bude dans le diptyque. 70 similar to that in the Adorations des bergers of the manuscript."132 The irony of comparing Eve with the Virgin is apparently not taken up in the text. Religious content of the images then was not discussed according to the discourses of the actual historical period in which the work was originally viewed, nor in terms of style. A second form of this anti-clerical aspect employs a trope for anti-papal attitudes held by the governing centrist Republicans by using a kind of battle jargon, for example, terms such as "invasions," "resistance," "overthrown," "victim," "fatalities," "defeat," "confusion,"133 to describe the impact of Italianate artistic influences in the sixteenth century. A passage documenting the first incursions of the new, 'foreign' influences in terms suitable to epic poetry is an example: In the disarray when the School of Paris and those of the provinces fell prey to foreign invasion, none of the successive centres which developed here and there under the protection of a few enlightened princes in Burgundy, bordering on and in Berri, then on the banks of the Loire, in Provence, in the Lyons and Bourbonnais districts, became dominant or prosperous enough so that they developed in continuity and practice a strong enough scholarly tradition to group together once more so many incongruous elements....The few powerful personalities who went there to train would remain too isolated to rally for a time a large enough army of good Frenchmen [sic] capable of resisting, by their sheer size, the foreign invasion.^34 [emphasis added] 132Catalogue Definitif, 14 (#32): "Dans les figures, le type de la Vierge, avec les cheveux rejetes derriere les oreilles, est celui des Tres riches Heures pour Eve dans le Paradis terrestre, etc.; son manteau blanc etoile est semblable a celui de VAdoration des bergers du manuscrit." '"Catalogue Definitif, XXII-XXIII. ""Catalogue Definitif, XXII: Dans le desarroi ou les evenements ont jete I'ecole de Paris et celles des provinces en proie a I'invasion etrangere, aucun des centres successifs qui se forment, ga et la, sous la protections de quelques princes eclaires, en Bourgogne, d;abord et dans le Berri, puis sur les bords de la Loire, en Provence, dans le Lyonnais et le Bourbonnais, ne devient assez preponderant et prospere pour qu'il s'y developpe, avec suite et methode, une tradition scholaire [sic] assez forte pour grouper de nouveau tant d'elements heterogenes....Les 7 1 Such metaphorical language was commonly used in other contemporaneous discourses, such as the popular press, to describe Republican perceptions of the external threat of the Papacy (for example, the Pope's 1892 encyclical, Au Milieu des Sollicitudes, which in essence 'endorsed' the French Republican governments, though not if they persisted in their anti-religious legislation135) and internal Catholic and conservative support for papal influence and interference, for example, in maintaining Roman Catholic influences in education. At the same time, such invasion vocabulary would be highly charged for citizens with the still sensitive memories of the 1871 defeat in the Franco-Prussian War and France's loss of Alsace-Lorraine. The language choices, therefore, linked defeat and humiliation in historical times, both in war and significantly in art, to the new contemporary threat of a Catholicism being described and demonized in the popular press as a pervasive and looming menace to the peace, prosperity and independence of the successive and successful Republican governments. Stylistic Proselytization The third argument presented in the Catalogue Definitif posits what I call a theory of stylistic proselytization. For example, Lafenestre's Introduction states that the development of linearity, realism and naturalism centred on the Ile de France and in Paris, signifying as a result a truly French aesthetic and approach to painting. This style was quelques puissantes personnalites qui s'y vont former resteront trop isolees pour rallier a temps une assez grosse armee de bons Francais capables de resister, par leur masse, I'envahissement exterieur. Mayeurand Reberioux, 153. 72 then described as being disseminated not only throughout France, where it blended with the best qualities of independently developed local schools, but also into Flanders where, according to Lafenestre, under Burgundian rulers "[a]II the franco-flemish art, until the rise of van Eyck, proceeded from the Parisian art of the preceding generation."136 This construct of a French-centred origin of Northern realism directly opposed the commonly- held theory, first proposed in the late 1790's by the German art historian, August Wilhelm von Schlegel, and supported throughout the nineteenth century by Gustav Friedrich Waagen and others,1 3 7 that Flemish art style had spread southward into France. Significantly, the principles of the governing Republicans of the late nineteenth century emphasized cultural unity and elided cultural pluralism through language and education policies, bolstering the idea of a Republican 'nation'. The Louvre itself had long been positioned as the centralized repository of all national culture ~ from its role as a pre-Revolution royal residence embodying the legitimacy of the Ancien Regime and the king to its position as a state institution "in theory belonging to the people."1 3 8 In contemporary terms, the official Salon system located in Paris acted as a regulating agency for the art production of the nation. Salon taste, academic taste was therefore equated with French taste. In 1895, art official Gustave Larroumet, a moderate Republican, had deplored this centralist inclination, and the unwritten policy, that permitted the Louvre to denude the rest of the country for its own benefit: 136Catalogue Definitif, XXIII: 'Tout cet art franco-flamand, jusqu'a I'apparition de van Eyck, precede de I'art parisien a la mode sous la generation precedente." 137Kultermann, 78-79 and 91. 1 3 8 Duncan and Wallach, 454. 73 [t]he national museums located in Paris should not enrich themselves by despoiling the nation to the profit of the capital. Above all they should not monopolize works which in their original place, are living and, moved elsewhere, are dead. The Louvre should not imagine that it can deal with France to the profit of Paris, the same way that Lord Elgin used the Parthenon to the profit of England.1 3 9 However, as a corollary to the envoi system (that is, the distribution of salon art from the centre out to the provinces), the Exposition des Primitifs frangais had harvested in regional treasures to fulfil the goals of a Parisian, and thus national, centre1 4 0 by bringing together works from sites as diverse as regional museums in Lyons and Troyes, as well as monasteries and churches from as far away as Moulins and Aix. 1 4 1 Indeed, Charles Blanc, Director of Fine Arts from 1870-1873 "[regarded] provincial museums as 1 3 9Gustave Larroumet, L'art et I'etat en France (Paris: Librairie Hachette et cie., 1895): 251-252: "Les musees nationaux installees a Paris ne doivent pas s'enrichir en depouillant la nation au profit de sa capitale. Surtout, ils ne doivent pas accaparer des oeuvres qui, a leur place originelle, sont vivantes et, partout ailleurs, sont mortes. Le Louvre ne saurait traiter en Franc; au profit de Paris, comme Lord Elgin a faite du Parthenon au profit de I'Angleterre." 1 4 0Still the best sources for information on the relationship between provincial museums and Paris are Daniel Sherman's works, Worthy Monuments and the earlier 'The Bourgeoisie, Cultural Appropriation, and the Art Museum in Nineteenth-Century France," both previously cited. Gustave Larroumet discussed this relationship in L'art et I'etat en France. Though published a decade before the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, it still provided a valuable, near-contemporary view of the inner workings of the Fine Arts Administration. A footnote in Sherman's Worthy Monuments [no. 62, page 35] supports my contention of the provinces being stripped of treasures for the Exposition des Primitifs frangais: In the parliamentary discussion of the fine arts budget for 1903, Roger Ballu, a deputy and former Inspecteur des Beaux-Arts (his direct responsibilities had not included provincial museums) charged that the Fine Arts Administration was engaged in the practice of systematically transferring masterpieces from the collections of provincial museums to the Louvre: ACD/DP, 1903(1), 3 Feb 1903.510. He cited no definitive evidence to support this charge, and I have found none in the archives; the minister, Jacques Chaumie, while responding to most of Roger Ballu's comments, did not bother to reply to this charge. 1 4 1Appendix 1 shows that, in all, there were 23 French cities and towns that sent works to the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. I have found no evidence to suggest or refute the possibility either that the works were simply commandeered or that they were willingly offered. At best, reviews, books and articles at the time mentioned the 'home' of the visiting works infrequently and then only in passing. Bouchot does call them lenders, but then he would hardly admit to commandeering artworks ("...Avant-propos," 265). 74 repositories from which the state could pick and choose at will". In uniting regional treasures in Paris, the Exposition des Primitifs frangais restated and reinforced that city's centrality, not only in contemporary political and cultural matters, but also in historical and artistic terms. Art historian Daniel Sherman's arguments on nineteenth century museum policy correspond to this analysis; he suggests that centres outside Paris and the He de France hub were "usually left out of the familiar dichotomy that treats Paris as the only true city and equates the provinces with rural France."1 4 3 Provincial museums from the 1840's and 1850's had developed active local fine arts societies whose monetary support enabled them to acquire works independent of the envoi system. Despite this growing independence, however, Paul Greenhalgh points out that "[f]rom the Revolution onwards, the hegemony of Paris over the rest of France became a recognized part of French cultural strategy, Paris was to be built up into the centre of European and hence world civilization."144 It is important to note that in nineteenth century France there had been a long history of resistance to the centralization of culture and international interest. The Expositions Universelles were instances that had provoked strong provincial resistance to the harvesting of local treasures for the glorification of Paris. A pamphlet called Pas d'Exposition en 1900, written by Leon Goulette, editor of LEst republique, a newspaper from Nancy, had challenged centralized cultural supremacy and expressed strong feelings !Sherman, Worthy Monuments, 33. 'Sherman, "Bourgeoisie, Cultural Appropriations...," 43. Greenhalgh, 118. 75 of "provincial pride and hatred of the political and economic power of Paris"1 4 5. Not only did such expositions strip the provincial centres of their best works, as was also the case with the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, but they also drew an inflow of capital from visitors with their hard-earned money who were attracted to the capital city by such extravaganzas. The centralization of artistic development in Paris as argued in the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was thus paralleled by physically relocating notable works to Paris and by bolstering the still resonant claim that the Musee du Louvre performed the crucial role of formulating cultural and aesthetic standards for the nation. It is into this third strand of argumentation that the other two strands can be woven. If the premise of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was to foster notions of a centralized, single-minded Nation in historical, artistic and aesthetic terms, then language and political loyalty must all be focused on the secular and centralized authority and be consistent throughout the country. No regional, patois-driven polities could be sustained or condoned in such a Nation; nor could any externally focused loyalty to a papal throne be tolerated if the Republican belief in unity and consensus was to be supported. There is thus an immediate and undeniable linkage between anticlericalism and the linguistic policies. All stripes of liberal and Republican citizens could unite in their support for a national, secular and unified school system with the promulgation of standardized French as a replacement for patois and local usages. 1 4 6 The separation of Church and State had come to the fore as an issue as early as 1873, two years after the founding of the 'Cited in Mandrell, 4 1 . Achard, 1 7 9 . 76 Third Republic and, at the turn of the century, the Bloc Republican as a political and governing group had in fact arisen primarily through the identification of a common enemy: the Church. Historian Claude Langlois has observed in a recent study that the stand against the Roman Catholic church became a rallying point for a spectrum of Republicans with discordant opinions: A single point of view united the adversaries [among the Republicans] profoundly separated by the proposed political solutions, the politics of religion: the authoritarian Empire had ostensibly supported Catholicism; the government of moral order, in the absence of a king to hand over to France, went one step further in this matter. The enemy, therefore, was clericalism.147 As historian Maurice Crubellier has expressed it, the Republican government's agenda was to replace the catechism with the Declaration of the Rights of Man and therefore to replace the familial relationship to the Mother Church by an analogous relationship to la patrie (from the Latin, pater or father), an essential ingredient in the development of a solidly secular nation.1 4 8 Thus, by writing issues of anti-clericalism, centralization, cultural homogeneity and the promotion of the French language into the text of the catalogue, the Republican position was embedded in highly politicized terms in an art historical argument surrounding the claims of the Exposition des Primitif frangais. At this point, the field of 1 4 7 Claude Langlois, "Catholiques et laics," Les Lieux de memoire, ed. Pierre Nora, Vol. Ill, Les France (Paris: Editions Gallimard, 1992): 152: Un seul point unit des adversaires profondement separes par les solutions politiques proposees, la politique religieuse: I'Empire autoritaire a ostensiblement soutenu le catholicisme; le gouvernement d'Ordre moral, a defaut de donner un roi a la France, a rencheri encore sur ce point. L'ennemi, le voila bien, le clericalisme. 148Crubellier, 232. 77 inquiry must be viewed in the light of emerging Rightist and Leftist philosophies being formulated in both municipal and national political arenas. After the dissolution of conservative Boulangism in the 1880's, the Right, and especially ultra-conservative factions, had supported the army and the judiciary during the years of the Dreyfus Affair. The Right, strongly conservative and Catholic, identified 'the Nation' with a seemingly paradoxical blend of nationalism and regionalism, arguing that the 'true' Revolution had been decentralist and federalist and had supported regional self-determination in opposition to the autocratic centralist government of the Ancien Regime. On the other hand, socialist support for unionization, especially in Paris and regional centres such as Lyon, was putting pressure on the Republican government's slow-but-steady pace of social reform. A growing Republican fear of a Leftist presence in France was thus linked with the spectre of internationalism, previously associated only with the Catholic Church. The Republican politic, tending to hold somewhat Rightist beliefs in institutional conservatism, property and profit which they had assumed virtually unchanged from previous regimes regardless of their political bent, abhorred the spectre of collectivism, unionization and socialist agendas epitomized in the potent memory of the worst excesses of the 1872 Commune.1 4 9 Municipal and national elections illustrate the political vacillations of this period. For example, Paris municipal representation, radical since 1871, shifted to a Rightist alignment from 1896 on, largely due to anti-Dreyfusard feelings; however, in reaction to growing 1 4 9 D . R . Watson, "The Nationalist Movement in Paris, 1900-1906," The Right in France, 1890-1919: Three Studies, ed. David Shapiro, St. Antony's Papers, Number 13 (London: Chatto & Windus, 1962): 57, 63; Nord, 212. 78 syndicalism and labour unrest, it reverted in 1904 to a socialist minority. National elections show a corresponding shift in the other direction: the centrist Bloc of Radicals and Republicans had enlisted Socialist support to defeat conservative elements in 1900, but, by the federal election of 1906, disaffection with socialists urging accelerated changes to current social policies resulted in a return to a more Rightist bent. The 1904 Republicans, then, found themselves between the two polarities of the political spectrum at a time when popular support for centrist ideologies seemed to be fluctuating. Both poles were increasingly powerful and espoused nationalistic aspects to their philosophy: the Right advocated the regional and anti-collectivist stance it saw as the legacy of 1789, while the Left invoked egalitarianist ideals of the Revolution. The Republicans found themselves as neither: they remained centrist in alignment, supporting the principles of continuity, stability, anti-clericalism, homogeneity and a specific national identity.150 And what can we therefore infer were the notions surrounding national identity catalogued through the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and its discourses? The educational objectives of Republican beaux-art policies are apparent throughout the Catalogue Definitif. Lafenestre's consistent subtext in his Introduction was that to see these works was to learn much that had been hidden about France's greatness. This approach was used in the creation (or reinforcement) of a stronger, more nationalist, rather than localized, sense of 'France'.1 5 1 By extending historian Miriam Levin's analysis of Republican art policy, the Exposition des Primitifs frangais can be categorized 150Watson, 82; Stone, 185. 151Green, 78-9. 79 as a 'normative approach', that is, one where the values and codes of conduct to which a citizen should aspire can be seen as mirrored in the facture and style of art: Order, harmony, balance, a logical and controlled working method were qualities that bespoke the personality of the artist. They were communicated through the work of art to the viewer to accept as guidelines for his own moral character. Art in fact, had its source in the artist's need for discipline....[T]he achievement of moral perfection, whether through the process of making the work of art or by using it as a guide for one's actions, ended in a sense of pleasurable calm....It was a theory that valued rigor, diligence, and devotion to duty as a social obligation.152 These are the very qualities that are extolled in the Catalogue Definitif and that are advocated as the values ordering the proper conduct and attitude of a true Republican - one who espoused neither extreme of the political spectrum and who assiduously fulfilled the duties of a citizen, a "civisme republicain," according to Crubellier.153 Consider the following catalogue entry for the exhibition's portrait of Jean le Bon (fig. 26), which is cited as the exemplar for unflattering portraits154. Yet, according to Bouchot, the face of the King, despite the painting's unfinished roughness, revealed stalwart and unpretentious qualities: In this crude profile, thick and fleshy, of King John, what ancestral size in the nose! What thickness of lips! What dull and serious rusticity in this despondent face, in this neglected clothing and hair! But also what a tone of heartrending sincerity, what power of unpitying truth! This single work suffices to tell us, by the manly daring and the free breadth of its rendition, that there was thus in Paris painters, true painters, in the complete sense of 1 5 2 Levin, 154. Though Levin's analysis is specifically applied to art production in the period of the late Third Republic, the same approach can also be used for an historical exhibition. 153Crubellier, 232. ^Catalogue Definitif, 1 (#11), attributed to Girard d'Orleans, c. 1359. 80 the work, already different from the miniaturists and tapestry makers, and capable of painting great works, vigorous and simple....1 5 5 In other words, this king was represented in the Catalogue Definitif as having the attributes of a stolid, sincere, unpretentious, bourgeois: a good Republican citizen rendered by painters of similar character. The catalogue's Introduction also overtly highlighted portraiture throughout the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and linked the qualities identified there to the history of the nation: Lafenestre, the moderate Republican and a curator at the Louvre, wrote in the Introduction to the Catalogue Definitif, "[h]istory and portraits, it is the same taste for life and for truth, in the present or in the past, a noble taste that we preserve today."1 5 6 Qualities identified in these works, such as truth, honesty, and unflinching self-regard, were seen as combined with lively and virile rendering of images1 5 7. The sitter's characteristics were associated with a sense of duty which in turn was supported by the litany of government jobs and duties fulfilled by the persons portrayed. The physiognomy of recognizable individuals, as well as saints and other figures, was repeatedly foregrounded to fashion a composite portrait, as it were, of an 'Ideal Citizen' formed in lssCatalogue Definitif, XX: Dans ce rude profile, epais et charnu, du roi Jean, quelle ancestrale grosseur du nez! quelle epaisseur de levres! Quelle rusticite lourde et serieuse dans cette mine abattue, dans cette negligence des vetements et de la chevelure! Mais aussi que accent de sincerite navrante, quelle puissance de verite impitoyable! Cette seule piece suffirait a nous dire, par la hardiesse virile et la largueur libre de sa facture, qu'il y avait alors a Paris des peintres, de vrais peintres, dans le sens complet du mot, deja differents des miniaturistes et brodeurs, et capable de brosser de grands ouvrages, vigoureux et simples... 156Catalogue Definitif, XIX: "Histoire et portraits, c'est le meme gout pour la vie et pour la verite, dans le present ou dans le passe, un noble gout que nous conserveron toujours." ^Catalogue Definitif, XXIII. 81 the historical roots of pre-Revolutionary France and promoted and attained in the contemporary Republic. The 'PrimitiT Attachment of the term 'primitif to the very title of this exhibition also had significant cultural and political impact in 1904. The claims made by the Exposition des Primitifs frangais revolved around a new application of a term which was considered both avant- garde and radical and which had contested meanings and history.158 Used widely and variously throughout the nineteenth century for widely differing reasons, the term 'primitif was co-opted by Lafenestre and Bouchot for the Exposition des Primitifs frangais in order to counteract both the radical historic resonances inherent in many past applications of the term and the newer claims being made by contemporaneous Belgian and French avant-gardes to legitimize its use in new artistic contexts and associations. Reference to the Nouveau Larousse lllustree, a popular illustrated encyclopedia published between 1897-1904159, provides access to contemporary usage of the term primitif. Of the sixteen different definitions of the word, ranging from mathematical to geological, several dominant notions catalogue and illuminate how the word was understood in this period and in the context of art production and history. The "Beaux- Arts" definition, "[t]he primitives - artists, painters or sculptors who preceded the masters 1 5 8 T h e controversy continues today, especially in the context of centre/periphery dynamics and post- /neo-colonial analysis of cultural institutions. See, for example, "Primitivism" in 20th Century Art: Affinity of the Tribal and the Modern, ed. William Rubin (New York: The Museum of Modern Art, 1984) for an example of an exhibition pilloried by critics and cultural historians for its approach. 1S9Nouveau Larousse lllustree (Paris, 1897-1904 ed.). S.v. "Primitif". 82 of the Grande Epoque,"1 6 0 states the accepted point of view against which the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was positioned. Certainly, in French academic circles, the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries had long been enshrined as the era in which the foundations of French academic style had been established, a belief that persisted even into the concurrent Salon exhibition.161 It is in this sense, together with the basic Larousse definition, "that which exists from the beginning,"162 that the curators of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais appear to have used the term 'primitif.' They argued that a school of French painting had existed from the beginning (interpreted as the beginning of French artistic history); thus, the goal of the exhibition organizers was to push back the origins of French artistic production from the 'grande epoque' to the middle ages, linking gothic sculpture, manuscript illumination and ecclesiastical architecture with the achievements of the traditionally defined golden era in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries as part of a continuum of French excellence. This was not a new project for historians of art in eighteenth and nineteenth century France. As early as the 1770's, Seroux d'Agincourt had attempted to construct a seamless lineage of European artistic production from the fourth to the sixteenth centuries, from what had been considered as the decline of classical greatness to the 1 6 0 "Les primitifs - artistes, peintres ou sculpteurs qui ont precedees les maitres de la Grande Epoque". The Grande Epoque refers to the period of the sixteenth to eighteenth centuries when French art reached what was considered in the canon to be its illustrious peak, epitomised by such artists as Poussin, Fragonard and Watteau. 1 6 1 T h e Salon opened at the Grand Palais on April 16, 1904, four days after the Exposition des Primitifs frangais (Andre Michel, "Promenades aux salons," Journal des Debats, 29 May 1904, 1). 1 6 Z"Quelque chose qui existe des I'origine." 83 'rebirth' in the Italian Renaissance.163 The need to prove conclusively that superior French art production had been continuous from the beginning of European artistic production and ongoing throughout the Middle Ages became the goal of much of the art historical and historical investigations of the latter half of the century. At length and in broad, heroic terms the Catalogue Definitif, as has been noted earlier, characterized the search as a nation-wide quest, enumerating the roll call of historians, archaeologists, and art enthusiasts who had sought evidence of French artistic development stretching backwards in time to the beginning of all European art practices, in other words, to a French 'primitif that presaged later artistic superiority: The terrain, nevertheless, for the last 25 years, has been well worked, well cultivated. Following after the late and determined explorers who were the first to excavate in forgotten fields, Emeric David, P. Merimee, Didron, Viollet- le-Duc, Leon de Laborde, Ph. de Chennevieres, A. de Montaiglon, Paul Mantz, Dussieux, E. Soulie, etc., new scholars, conscientious and patient, new critics, passionate and perspicacious, did not cease, in recent times, in their documentary publications or their learned studies to bring to light nearly every day some newly uncovered corner. The scholarly works of Leopold Delisle, Jules Guiffrey, Bernard Prost, Abbe Requin, Paul Durrieu, R. de Lasteyrie, E. Male, P. Vitry, Dimier, Salomon Reinach, etc., the discerning and cordial studies of A. Gruyer, Andre Michel, L. Gonse, P. Leprieur, C. Benoit, Andre Hallays, L. de Fourcaud, etc., and the many other contributions carried on by the tireless and modest workers at the Archives des Monuments Historiques, the Memoires de la Societe des Antiquaires de France, the Bulletin Monumental, the Comptes rendus des reunions annuelles des Societes des Beaux-Arts, the Archives de I'Art Frangais, on the Gazette des Beaux-Arts, the Revue de I'Art ancien et modeme, and the many collections of the provincial academies and Societies, offer henceforth 1 6 3 M . Lamy, "Le Decouvert des Primitif italiens au XIX6 siecle: Seroux d'Agincourt (1730-1874) et son influence sur les collectionneurs, critiques et artistes francais [two parts]," La Revue de I'art ancien et moderne 39 (March 1921) and 40 (Sept-Oct. 1921): 169-181 and 182-190; and Henri Loyrette, "Seroux d'Agincourt et les origines de l'histoire de I'art medieval," Revue de I'Art 48 (1980): 40-56; and Kulturmann, 82. 84 a huge body of work, to those who are interested, of the history of our revered painters.164 This lengthy quote also serves to point out the rather incestuous nature of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Noticeably, of all the living contributors to this 'righting the wrong,' only a few were not participants on one or more of the organizing committees for the exhibition, collectors of note, or affiliated with the Musee du Louvre, art journals or other government-sponsored institutions of the time. Significantly, alternative usages of the primitif abounded throughout the nineteenth century, all of which located the term in an oppositional posture to contemporary classicist and academic tastes. From the 1800's on the term had been taken up and used in reference to the German Nazarenes, French Barbus and English Pre-Raphaelites, each group emulating the simplicity of form, linearity and clarity of colour of Masaccio, Giotto and Fra Angelico in their styles and themes in order to exemplify a return to the Catalogue Definitif, XXXI-XXXII: Le terrain, d'ailleurs, depuis vingt-cinq ans, avait ete bien travaille, bien cultive. A la suite des anciens et hard is explorateurs qui, les premiers, avaient fouille dans ces champs oublies, Emeric David, P. Merimee, Didron, Viollet-le-Duc, Leon de Laborde, Ph. de Chennevieres, A. de Montaiglon, Paul Mantz, Dussieux, E. Soulie, e t c . , de nouveaux erudits, consciencieux et patients, de nouveaux critiques, passionnes et perspicaces, n'avaient cesse, en ces dernier temps, par leurs publications documentaires ou leurs etudes sagaces, presque chaque jour, d'en remettre en lumiere quelque coin mieux derviche. Les savants travaux de MM. Leopold Delisle, Jules Guiffrey, Bernard Prost, I'abbe Requin, Paul Durrieu, R. de Lasteyrie, E. Male, P. Vitry, Dimier, Salomon Reinach, etc., les etudes judicieuses et chaleureuses de MM. A. Gruyer, Andre Michel, L. Gonse, P. Leprieur, C. Benoit, Andre Hallays, L. de Fourcaud, etc., bien d'autres contributions apportees par les travailleurs infatigables et modestes aux Archives des Monuments Historiques, aux Memoires de la Societe des Antiquaires de France, au Bulletin Monumental, aux Comptes rendus des reunions annuelles des Societes des Beaux-Arts, aux Archives de lArt Frangais, a la Gazette des Beaux-Arts, a la Revue de lArt ancien et moderne, aux nombres recueils des Academies et Societes de Province, offrent desormais une vaste carriere, pour leurs etudes, a ceux qu'interesse l'histoire de notre vieiile peinture. 85 origins of artistic production.165 Each of these groups "abandoned later technical inventions and formal complications in order to return to what they considered a severe and noble style."166 As Robert Goldwater has argued, these were avant-gardist movements seeking a purer means of expression which pre-dated their contemporaries whose style and tastes had, they believed, degenerated into the formulaic and overworked.167 For the later Symbolists at the end of the nineteenth century, the notion of primitif was understood to be a recollection of less adulterated forms of expression, "a return to the purer and more fundamental and thus implicitly better, more profound, and simpler approaches to art,"168 a form that avoided the pitfalls of realism and idealism. For the politically conservative Symbolists, their individualized expression used this 'primitive,' that is, non-academic, style in combination with their personal symbology and themes from early Christian and romantic medievalism to express a metaphysical and religious philosophy.1 6 9 1 6 5Robert Goldwater, Primitivism in Modern Art, enlarged edition (Cambridge, MA and London: The Belknap Press of Harvard University Press, 1986): 54; Jean Cassou, Emile Langui and Nikolaus Pevsner, Gateway to the Twentieth Century: Art and Culture in a Changing World (New York, Toronto and London: McGraw-Hill Book Company, Inc., 1962): 105; and Michael Kotzin, "Pre-Raphaelitism, Ruskinism, and French Symbolism," Art Journal 25, 5 (Summer 1966): 347. 1 6 6Goldwater, Primitivism, 54. 1 6 7Goldwater, Primitivism, 253-4. 1 6 8Patricia Townley Mathews, Aurier's Symbolist An Criticism and Theory, Studies in the Fine Arts: Criticism, No. 18 (Ann Arbor, Ml: UMI Research Press, 1986): 75-6; Philippe Jullian, "Introduction," French Symbolist Painters: Moreau, Puvis de Chavannes, Redon and their Followers (London: Hayward Gallery and Arts Council of Great Britain, 1972): 166. 1 6 9 Gill Perry, "Primitivism and the Modern," Primitivism, Cubism, Abstraction: The Early Twentieth Century, ed. Charles Harrison, Francis Frascina and Gill Perry (New Haven, CT and London: Yale University Press in association with the Open University, 1993): 14; and Robert Goldwater, Symbolism, Icon Editions (New York: Harper & Row Publishers, Inc., 1979): 196. Encompassing literary, theatrical, musical and visual proponents, the so-called Symbolists recognized the value of primitivistic simplification of style and 86 At the end of the nineteenth century, other avant-gardist groups adopted a range of 'primitivistic' expressions that critiqued the realist and illusionist formulas of academic and Salon art. This means, generally speaking, the use of flattened planes, a linearity, a use of strong colour blocs and, above all, simplicity. Gauguin and the 'Pont- Aven/Synthetists', for example, used romanticized themes taken from what they considered primitive, that is, peasant, provincial and tribal cultures, to construct an oppositional stance against the restrictive urban bourgeois society of the late nineteenth century.1 7 0 Art historians Fred Orton and Griselda Pollock have argued that, within the geographical entity of 'France' itself, Gauguin and his followers found a culture that was perceived to be as exotic as the Far East, yet accessible to the Paris art world: Brittany represented as remote, savage, primitive, rustic, superstitious or simple signifies within specific historical conditions a nexus of town and country, uneven developments, regional variations, and centralization, the history of the dominance of the town and its bourgeois social forms and norms.1 7 1 In the early years of the twentieth century, the Fauves in France, and later Die Brucke in Germany, took a reductionist approach to the 'primitive', that is, constructing the 'primitif amalgamated the personal with metaphysical and romantic content to create what Symbolist painter and philosopher of the movement, Maurice Denis, called in his article, "De la Gaucherie des Primitifs" written after visiting the 1904 exhibition, "the most delicate sentiments of the human soul" ("les sentiments les plus delicats de Tame humaine"), Theories, 1890-1910 (Paris: Bibliotheque de L'Occident, 1913: 173). 1 7 0Abigail Solomon-Godeau, "Going Native," Art in America (July 1989): 121; Kenneth Coutts-Smith, "Some general observations on the problem of cultural colonialism," The Myth of Primitivism: Perspectives on Art, ed. and compiled by Susan Hiller (London and New York: Routledge, 1991): 28. 1 7 1 Orton and Pollock, 329. 87 as unfettered and essential emotions, merging figure and landscape in an anti-analytical, anti-realist and symbolic union.1 7 2 A dichotomy exists within this understanding of the retrospection inherent in the so- called Symbolist, Pont-Avenist, and other schools of contemporary and avant-gardist art production. In the rejection of current art production these groups implied a corresponding rejection of current meanings and interpretations of progress. They all rejected where the world was 'now' and sought a nostalgic return to a life and set of beliefs simpler than the current ones. 1 7 3 However, the primitif espoused by the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and the Catalogue Definitif was a retrospection based in the linear conception of progress and evolution leading up to and resulting in the modern state. The primitif of the 1904 Exhibition asserted a forward-moving, historical oeuvre rather than nostalgic contemporary art production and theories, thus placing itself in opposition to these emerging avant-gardist movements. The exhibition forcefully disassociated the primitif from those anti-institutional, anti-academic, and individualistic critiques of academic art and bourgeois culture circulating within the contemporary art world by reinstalling the 'primitive' within the institutional setting and linear traditions of the Louvre as representative of a French national school. It is important to remember that the year is 1904 with its full outpouring of artistic production drawing on themes of non-western, so-called 'primitive' cultures represented 1 7 2Perry, 46, 62; Goldwater, Primitivism, 105. 1 7 3Patricia Leighten, "The White Peril and L'Art negre: Picasso, Primitivism, and Anti-colonialism," The Art Bulletin 72, 4 (December 1990): 630; Solomon-Godeau, 122. 88 by artists in France, such as the Fauves and Picasso, et al., just beginning.1'4 Recognition of the aesthetic qualities of the artistic production of non-western cultures had, however, begun many years before. Ethnological museums and displays at Expositions Universelles had provided exposure to such cultures, contributing to an alternative aesthetic framework on which the later movements were based. Art historian Patricia Leighten has argued that this new group of avant-garde artists were more concerned with undercutting the social structures they felt had produced a watering-down of 'true' artistic expression than with truly exploring the aesthetic qualities and cultural content of the artifacts they drew upon: For the modernists, primitivism became a method for revolutionizing style; more, this formal radicalism often served, depending on the attitude of the artist, to present an alternative - mingling concepts of authenticity, spontaneity, freedom from the repression of bourgeois constraints, and amour libre - to currently entrenched social and aesthetic forms. The primitivism of Picasso and Derain most notably, like that of Gauguin before them, gestured toward cultures whose transformative powers they admiringly offered as escape routes from the stultification of French culture and academic art. 1 7 5 1 These motivations strayed far from the insertion of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais's definition of the primitif into the art historical canon. It is interesting to note that the word primitif occurs only once in the entire Catalogue Definitif, and significantly so ~ in its title. What does this textual absence signify for the Exposition des Primitifs frangais? The preceding discussion of the term, its 1 7 4 T h e date of Vlaminck's 'discovery' and purchase of African works has been variously cited as sometime between 1904 and 1907. The importance is not the 'when' this occurred, but that the exposure to 'non-traditional' works is relatively concurrent to the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. 1 7 5Leighten, 622. 89 usage and the political resonance imbued in that usage permits some speculation. It could be argued that the primitifs of the title is a 'hook', a popular term in its various permutations, thus familiar to a large potential audience. Here its use was denuded of those specific ramifications inherent in it. The argument presented by the catalogue essay and entries, though skirting the term itself, effectively reasserted lineage and uniqueness of the artistic school. At the same time as the French primitifs were being positioned as part of the art historical oeuvre, that label was being rejected because of its Italian pre-Renaissance as well as contemporary affiliations. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais then sought to assert the primacy of France amid other competing claims to a national primitif. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais and its Catalogue Definitif removed the notion of the primitif from other cultural milieus: the Tahitian, the peasant, the Italian, the German and the Flemish, using the term in a particularly French, Republican, realistic, non-Catholic way to identify an originating art based on the earliest times and the intrinsic 'genius' of the French people. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais did not, like contemporary avant-garde movements, draw on past models for present day production; instead the exhibition and its catalogue turned a radical critique of the centralized state and academic art practices into an assertion of an historical lineage, one which confirmed France's place on an equal, if not higher, footing with other European nations. 90 CHAPTER FOUR PERCEPTION AND RECEPTION: RESPONSES TO T H E EXPOSITION DES PRIMITIF FRANCAIS When I tell you that I was equally bowled over, if not more so, by an art which is exactly the reverse of that [Monet's], you will recognize in me the eternal debate. I went this morning to the show of French Primitives....What a marvellous - and transporting art! The difficult problem of transposing the real on the imaginary is resolved here, and by such simple means: one of several rapports of happy and various tints in a beautiful unity suffices for the realization of the most sumptuous harmonies. Letter by Henri-Edmond Cross to Charles Angrand, 1904.176 It is all very well to present an exhibition such as the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and its recuperative agenda to a public; it is a different matter to try to understand and track response to such an exhibition. Certainly Georges Lafenestre and Henri Bouchot were taking a daring stance against those supporting the notions of an Italian/Flemish Renaissance rather than a French-centred stylistic development independent of outside influences. But did the public at large share that opinion? How were the journals of the day aligned in response to the claims? Did the claims succeed in 're-writing' art history? Just as reconstructing the experience of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais is a difficult one, so too is trying to determine how the public(s) and media understood the meaning and relevance of the event. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais, as has already been described, had been constructed to convey specific messages about the history of France, its historical and continued preeminence in the European artistic development and, more indirectly, the role of the Ideal Citizen in the Third Republic, considered by the 176Quotation cited in Catherine C. Bock, Henri Matisse and Neo-lmpressionism 1898-1908 (Ann Arbor: UMI Research Inc., 1981): 67. Cross was a Neo-lmpressionist painter who visited the Exposition des Primitifs frangais in the summer of 1904. 91 French, at least to be the most evolved nation-state in Europe. These specific visual and textual messages must, however, be recognized and read by one or more audiences. Donald M. Lowe's analysis of bourgeois perception177 provides a framework upon which to build an understanding of the audience's perception for the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Lowe argues that printed media became, in the period from the end of the eighteenth century to the beginning of the twentieth, the predominate means by which the bourgeoisie understood events outside their everyday experience. Sight was, as a result, the privileged sense, enabling use of and access to these media; at the same time, "the order of development-in-time," as Lowe terms it, permitted an understanding of what was currently visible by connecting it to both past events and developments outside the realm of everyday experience.178 Further, Lowe places this analysis into a social context in which new methods were being developed to assist bourgeois society to cope with the accelerated speed of innovation: these included the changing meaning of 'revolution', traditionalism as the consciousness of a tradition what was not longer absolutely binding, nostalgia as longing for the past rather than another place, the historical novel as a popular genre, the extension of the temporal landscape, as well as the despatialization of historiography - all these developments were new efforts to recapture a past which had become more fleeting and distant, as bourgeois society experience a more mechanical, segmented present. Past and present needed to be consciously reconnected, now.1 7 9 As part of this need to feel more secure in the present by seeking out a past as described by Lowe, the Exposition des Primitifs frangais can be seen to provide a venue to make 1 7 7 Donald M. Lowe, History of Bourgeois Perception (Chicago: The University of Chicago Press, 1982). 1 7 8 Lowe, 18. 1 7 9 Lowe, 43. 92 such a reconnection possible: by asserting simultaneously a "retrospective nationalism"180 and an historical continuum, the exhibition made the present more solid and defined and the future less unsure by showing that contemporary society was produced out of this continuum. In the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, the visual images were recognizable and familiar, even though they were centuries old and infrequently or distantly displayed. Interpreted by the Catalogue Definitif, these art works reinforced basic assumptions about French artistic prowess rather than challenging them, and presented conventionalized styles as opposed to avant-garde explorations, which were often unfamiliar and discomfiting to the viewer, and perhaps loaded with unwelcome and unsettling political overtones. Thus, even though the curators of the exhibition were refuting and rewriting the canon of art history, they were also supporting the centrality and excellence of French achievements. As Daniel Sherman has noted, the art museum of the nineteenth century performed a profoundly important role as simultaneously a container and an embodiment of accepted values. The museum consequently stood as "[a] model of hierarchy, of order, of respect for art as something separate from the exigencies of daily life, as long as it laid claim to this special status in certain accepted and moderate ways,... thus [standing] in a virtually metonymical relationship to the system of values of the bourgeoisie elite as a whole."181 Through experiencing the works in the setting of the Louvre, the modern viewer of 1904 then was guided to perceive the past 1 8 0 Herman Lebovics, True France: The Wars over Cultural Identity, 1900-1945 (Ithaca and London: Cornell University Press, 1992): 4. 1 8 1Sherman, Worthy Monuments, 237. Jeanne Laurent also emphasizes the lack of risk-taking at fonctionnaire-filled institutions such as the Louvre (Arts et pouvoir en France de 1793 a 1981, 10+). 93 as a forerunner presaging the present Republican regime in a visual language, making the linkage that Lowe has theorized and achieving a synthesis of past and present and future into a single, inevitable, historical continuum. In addition, the act of seeing an exhibition placed the viewer in the company of other viewers who shared in confronting an understandable presentation of one's own history, and in identifying with portraits of historical and unidealized figures who were presented as recognizably like oneself and set within landscapes that were recognizably French. 1 8 2 The process of shared experience elided political, social and economic variations within an already circumscribed viewership183 and created 'un bon public' from the various publics congregating in the Pavilion de Marsan where the curators attempted to embody notions of a unilingual, unified, continuous French art history.184 Response also occurs outside and apart from direct experience of an exhibition, that is, among an audience that has never seen the exhibition itself and which extends across periods of time when the experience can only be imagined. Organizers can judiciously engineer newspapers, journals, friendly critics, and others to publicize positive reactions and opinions to the event for absorption by a public one step removed from the Exposition des Primitifs frangais; however, each newspaper and journal was positioned within a political spectrum. Their political affiliation affected how and what was reported as well as the audience to whom the exhibition was presented. Immediate and, perhaps levin, 48. 'As discussed in Chapter 1. 'Scobey, 224-5; Lebovics, 6 and 9. 94 more importantly, long-term repercussions of the event cannot be controlled as the reportage circulated among a wider group of people whose sole experience of the exhibition would rest vicariously on another's interpretation of the event. Despite the presentation through the textual and pictorial representations at and surrounding the exhibition, there could be no assurances that the desired impact on 'history' would actually prevail. Indeed, the exhibition could even be ignored or overshadowed by dissenting opinions or the weight of tradition. The full impact of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais can be measured more precisely by asking to what extent its assertions were understood and if they changed minds and attitudes and revised the canon. This exhibition was very widely reviewed in journals, newspapers and popular magazines, from New York to London to St. Petersburg. Surprisingly, there was remarkably little divergence of opinion across the spectrum of reviews; generally the responses to the exhibition, evidenced in reviews and essays, supported the Exposition des Primitifs frangais's claims for a school of early French painting, rather than Italian or Flemish sources of European artistic development. The novelty of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and its claims was clearly recognized and understood by many viewers and reviewers, though the wider ramifications often were not. In turn, these responses mirrored the ongoing political and aesthetic controversies of the day. 1 8 5 Conservative Republican journals such as the Gazette des 1 8 5 lt is interesting to note that critiques of the Exposition des Primitifs francais mention Bouchot much more frequently than Lafenestre as the 'author' of its contentions. The most ardent argument for a French primitif was Lafenestre's Introduction rather than the sections attributed to Bouchot, but since the first announcement in the Gazette des Beaux-Arts in January 1903, Bouchot's name was the most prominently featured. 95 Beaux-Arts, the Revue de I'art ancien et moderne, and the Journal des Debats all ran multi-part articles and promotional pieces, mostly written by members of the Beaux-Arts establishment. Henri Bouchot and Georges Lafenestre each wrote numerous and lengthy articles for the centrist Gazette and Revue, as well as for other journals.1 8 6 All of these were constructed as supplementary material to the Catalogue Definitif, expanding the arguments of the catalogue entries into lengthy stylistic and archival examinations of the major (and often minor) works presented in the Pavilion's rooms. Foreign journals such as London's Burlington Magazine, and the Belgian Le Revue de I'art Chretien as well as North American journals such as International Studio from the United States, or even the distant Le Journal de Saint-Petersburg from Russia, 1 8 7 all carried reviews of the exhibition, again generally favourable even while loaded with minor quibbles about dating or site inadequacies. Negative responses to the Exposition des Primitifs frangais in both the foreign and domestic press, emerged along some broad issue-based lines. Most obvious was the debate over the use of the term 'primitif. As discussed in Chapter 3, this term was one 1 8 6 F o r Henri Bouchot, these included: "L'exposition des primitifs francais: Avant-propos," Gazette des beaux-arts, Series 3, 31, 562 (April 1904): 264-274; "L'exposition des primitifs frangais [four parts]," Gazette des beaux-arts, Series 3, 31, 563-566 (May, June, July and August 1904): 353-364, 451-467, 61-81,113-139; "L'exposition des Primitifs frangais," Revue des deuxmondes 20 (March 15, 1904): 420-443; "Les primitifs francais: Un dernier mot," La revue de I'art ancien et moderne 16 (September 1904): 169-178; "Les primitifs frangais: Le 'Parement de Narbonne' au Louvre (1371): Le Peintre Jean d'Orleans a Paris," Gazette des Beaux-arts, Series 3, 31 (January 1904): 5-26; and "Un tableau capital de I'ecole frangaise a retrouver: Appel aux amateurs et aux conservateurs de musees," Gazette des beaux-arts, Series 3,31,564 (June 1904): 441 - 450. As for Lafenestre, his articles included "L'Exposition des Primitifs frangais [4 parts]," Gazette des Beaux-Arts Series 3, 31 and 32, 563-66 (May, June, July and August 1904): 353-364, 451-76, 61-81 and 113- 139. Both Lafenestre and Bouchot's essays appear to be virtually interchangeable. Both use a painting-by- painting analysis of what available documents exist and are couched heavily in speculative theories of lineage and style. 1 8 7Despite the best efforts of the Interlibrary Loan department of the University of British Columbia, this last-named journal article could not be located. 96 fraught with gradations of meaning and reviewing the Exposition des Primitifs frangais provided a public forum to reawaken these debates and promote particular political and religious points of view. Pierre Suau, a journalist for Etudes, the Jesuit-published rightist journal, maintained that "strictly speaking one calls Primitifs the masters of the Middle Ages, the Trecentisti and the Quattrocentisti," a statement that evoked the history of Italian masters the exhibition was working against. M. Bouchot and other exhibition organizers, Suau claimed, were misleading readers and viewers by using the term 'primitif; one had only to look for the sublimity of spirit in the original primitifs to know how those exhibited were mislabelled188. Maurice Denis, a founding member and theorist for the Nabis, a group rejecting both realism and Impressionist naturalism for direct renditions of a sensed environment, declared that the term 'primitif should be applied exclusively to artists who "allied the most natural feeling of Beauty and the sense of the objects [emphasis in original]"189. Both Denis and Henri-Edmond Cross, a Neo-lmpressionist painter, attended the exhibition; although there is no indication that other practising artists also attended the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, it seems likely others did so. Though practising very different styles, both were struck by the harmonious and 'truthful' representations of the 'real' that they saw. 1 9 0 Both Denis and Cross enthused over this departure from the Salon formulas and Impressionist style, to the point that their 1 8 8 " L e s Primitifs francais," Etudes 99, 26 (June 20, 1904): 815: "Rigoureusement parlant, on appelle Primitifs les maitres du moyen ages, les Trecentisti et les Quattrocentisti..." 1 8 9 "De la Gaucherie des Primitifs [1904]," Theories 1890-1910: Du symbolisme etde Gauguin vers un nouvel ordre classique, 3 e edition (Paris: Bibliotheque de L'Occident, 1913): 168: "...allier avec le plus de naturel le sentiment de la Beaute et le sens des objet." Originally published in a July 1904 issue of Les Arts de la Vie. 1 9 0 S e e the epigraph at the beginning of this Chapter; also Denis, "De la Gaucherie...," 169. 97 responses indicate exactly how radical the show was to some eyes. It also clearly indicates that they saw in the paintings of the Pavilion de Marsan the style and 'difference' they valued and wished to see, and not the canonical challenge which was irrelevant to their positions outside Salon and academic circles. Paul Durrieu, even though a member of the Paintings and Drawings committee for the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and a member of the Academie, also expressed reservations about the use of 'primitif,' stating that "the term French primitive still designates only something very vague by determination and above all quite restricted in all cases by the number of pieces to cite."191 Art historian Andre Michel, in the first instalment of his ten-part series analyzing the Exposition des Primitifs frangais in the relatively middle of the road Journal des Debats, noted that the term was legitimate only in the sense that it referred to works pre-dating ultramontanist influences: at the same time, he also pointed out the irony of attending an exhibition under the auspices of the Academie des Beaux-Arts which traditionally and strenuously resisted the recognition of a French medieval art.1 9 2 A number of writers compared the Paris exhibition with that held earlier in Bruges and with the concurrent exhibitions at Dusseldorf and Sienna, to the generally favourable benefit of the French show. An anonymous article in the Belgian journal, La Revue de I'art Chretien, even praised the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, though somewhat half- 1 9 1 Paul Durrieu, "L'exposition des primitifs frangais," La revue de I'art ancien et moderne 15 (Mai 1904): 85: "...le terme de primitif frangais ne designe encore que quelque chose de tres vague comme determination et surtout de bien restreint, en tout cas, comme nombre de pieces de citer." 1 9 2 Michel, "Causerie Artistique III," 26 April 1904: 1. 98 heartedly, as "less prestigious, less dazzling than the one at Bruges, but more agreeably presented."193 Other issues, such as the scandal surrounding the reluctant (and late) loan 1 9 4 of a retable from the Appeal Court of Paris1 9 5, occupied considerable space in such diverse journals as the Symbolist journal, Nouvelle Revue, which hinted that the court President Forichon had actually hidden the work to prevent its cooptation.1 9 6 Le Figaro expressed concern about the lack of cooperation by the court by citing the loan of tapestries from the Bargello in Florence.1 9 7 Considerable time was spent in discussing the nationalism stirred up by the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. The curators had assiduously avoided using the term 'nationalism' because of its rightist associations linked back to the right-wing Boulangist unrest of the 1880's and the contemporaneous growth of rightist movements, but the public had not missed the allusions to a patriotism no less fervent. Maurice Denis, the Symbolist painter and writer, declaimed that art was international in scope while deploring the nationalism in this and other recent primitif exhibitions. He proclaimed that "each nation, each ethnic group wants to have their own [primitifs], discloses them with love, 193"Primitifs francais, flamands et allemands," Revue de I'Art Chretien Series 4, 15 (July 1904): 343: "...moins prestigieux, moins eblouissante que celle de Bruges, mais plus agreablement presente." 1 9 4 T h i s work, item #355, Le Calvaire, was listed in the supplementary section of the Catalogue Definitif, indicating a late entry to the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. The curators apparently were in ongoing negotiation for items throughout the early days and weeks of the exhibition. By early May there seems to have been no further mention of this issue in either journals and newspapers, other than to deplore the circumstances. 1 9 5 This work, apparently loaned to the Palais de Justice by the Musee du Louvre several years earlier, was in fact returned to permanent display immediately after the Exposition des Primitifs frangais ended, likely as a result of the controversy and the considerable attention the work had attracted. 1 9 6 Sauvage, 212. 1 9 7Alexandre Arsene, "Les Primitifs frangais," Le Figaro (Paris), 13 April 1904: 4. 99 prefers them to those of a rival nation. Attributions are changed, paintings are re- christened, all in the guise of erudition, but in reality serving national pride."1 9 8 Andre Michel's articles disparaged the kind of nationalist fervour that the Exposition des Primitifs frangais had engendered in some quarters (notably right wing ones), saying that, while reclaiming the primitifs is patriotic, the populace should not be lured into advocating nationalist positions against other countries.199 The Louis-Frederic Sauvage article in La Nouvelle revue (Paris), even while taking pleasure in the retaliatory nature of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, condemned the descent into nationalistic posturing in the fine arts field: "the organizers of the Louvre Exhibition have not been able to resist the desire to use retaliations, and under the rubric: Primitifs frangais, they have welcomed - oh! into open arms, you cannot doubt it - Flemish, Cologne, Italian masters which give us, also, the greatest honour." The writer ironically temporized by saying that the curators were "guilty of perhaps excessive hospitality."200 Most commentators, however, lauded the exposure given to this overlooked body of work and praised the courage and intellectual fortitude of Bouchot and his associates in recognizing their value and disinterring them from the forgotten vaults of the provinces. There were also those who took issue with the breadth of the exhibition's controversial 1 9 8 Denis, "De la Gaucherie...," 167: "Chaque nation, chaque groupe ethnique veut avoir les siens, les decouvre avec amour, les prefere a ceux de la nation rivale. On change les attributions, on debaptise les tableaux, sous le couvert de I'erudition, en realite pour servir I'orgueil national." 1 9 9 Michel, "Causerie Artistique IV," 29 April 1904, 1. 2 0 0 Sauvage, 208: "les organisateurs de I'Exposition du Louvre ne paraissent pas avoir su resister au desir d'user de represailles, et sous la rubrique: Primitifs frangais, ils ont accueilli, -- oh! a bras ouverts, vous n'en doutez pas, - des maitres flamands, colonais, italiens, qui nous font, du reste, le plus grand honneur...une hospitalite peut-etre excessive." 100 claims (or what Francis Haskell mildly calls Bouchot and Lafenestre's "overcompensation for this neglect"201). A review signed by L C . in the Belgian journal Revue de I'Art Chretien pointed out that "the considerations that we derived from the professor from Ghent [namely, Georges Hulin de Loo] are harshly in contrast to the learned and enthralling essays in which Bouchot and Lafenestre have in some degree inaugurated the exposition at the Pavilion de Marsan. They will be without doubt strongly contested; in any case they will interest our readers."202 This debate was welcomed more as a forum for informed and academic discussion than as an endorsement of either side of the argument; indeed, it could be read that the reviewer seemed pleased that the French were reacting to the Hulin de Loo claims so vociferously. Disputing attributions, so integral to the claims made by Lafenestre and Bouchot, were of course the centrepiece of much of the academic response. A flurry of articles did indeed make claims and counterclaims. One example can illustrate this point very well. The Saint Victor et donateur (fig. 20) was attributed by H. Fierans-Gevaert to Hugo van der Goes at the 1902 Bruges exhibit; at the Exposition des Primitifs frangais Bouchot and company identified it as the work of Le Peintre des Bourbons, dit Le Maitre de Moulins. Lionel Elliot, however, in his article in The Connoisseur vacillates between an unknown Z 0 1Haskell, History and Its Images, 446. 20Z"Primitifs frangais, flamands et allemands," 344: "Les considerations que nous venons d'emprunter au professer gantois vont rudement a I'encontre des savantes et attachantes dissertations par lesquelles Bouchot et Lafenestre ont en quelque sorte inaugure I'exposition du pavilion de Marsan. Elles seront sans doute fortement combattues; elles interesseront en tous cas vivement nos lecteurs." Georges Hulin de Loo, as discussed in the Introduction and Chapter 1 of this thesis, made the original challenge to the French art world in his Exposition de Tableaux Flamandes des XIVs-, XVs etXVI- siecles - Catalogue Critique (Gand: A. Sifter, Libraire-editeur, 1902). 101 German painter and, perhaps, even Jan van Eyck. 2 0 3 Similar examples abound in the plethora of articles published in the first months after the exhibition opened, all with nationalistic implications. In the forefront of the most serious disputations were Louis Dimier, the French right-wing academic, and English author and art lecturer Roger Fry. Both Fry in the Burlington Magazine204 and Dimier in articles and books published in France between 1904 and 19102 0 5 completely dismissed what they considered the extravagant claims of the Louvre and its curators that the paintings formed a distinct and rival 'primitif school, even while they acknowledged the value of studying these works. In his first of two review articles, Fry, in his Morellian analysis of form through comparison of drapery, colour, fold definition and anatomical detail,2 0 6 restated his opinion that sculptural works were the real contribution of France in the period immediately preceding that of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and asserted that all claims to a uniquely French art production ignored the multiple nationalities intermixing on the continent during the period of the Hundred Years War, the principal period for which Bouchot and Lafenestre claimed 2 0 3 Lionel Elliot, "The Primitive French Exhibition at Paris," The Connoisseur 10, 37 (September 1904): 36- 44; H. Fierans-Gevaert, "L'Exposition des primitifs flamands a Bruges," La Revue de I'art ancien et moderne 12 (August 1902): 116; and Catalogue Definitif, 49. 2 0 4 R o g e r Fry, "The Exhibition of French Primitives I", Burlington Magazine, 5, 14 (May 1904), 89-96; and 'The Exhibition of French Primitives II", Burlington Magazine, 5, 16 (June 1904), 279-298. 2 0 5 L o u i s Dimier, "Les Origines de la Peinture frangaise," Les arts: Revue mensuelle de musees, collections, expositions 37-42 (January - July 1905); Le Portrait du XVI- siecle aux Primitifs frangais. Notes et corrections au Catalogue officiel sur cette partie de I'Exposition d'Avril-Juillet 1904 (Paris: Jean Schemit, 1904); and Les Primitifs Frangais. Biographie Critique (Paris: Librairie Renouard, 1910). 2 0 6Jacqueline V. Falkenheim, Roger Fry and the Beginnings of Formalist Art Criticism, Studies in the Fine Arts: Criticism, No. 8 (Ann Arbor, Ml: UMI Research Press, 1980): 62. His early training and exposure to art was primarily Italian Renaissance, with an especial fondness for Giotto. 1 0 2 a 'primitif.207 Fry cited Jacques Bandol as typical of the Flemish artists who had worked in France and who had injected "a new vitality, a refreshing ugliness" into the exhausted and calligraphic images of the period.2 0 8 Additionally, Fry claimed that "French painting, as seen at the Pavilion de Marsan, begins nearly a century later than this great English work [the Westminster Retable, c. 1275]"209 as part of his own attempts to establish an early English painting tradition. Overall, he argued for a Flemish/Italian melding of realism and landscape adapted and adopted by the French. In other words, he supported the canonical interpretation of artistic dissemination; only with Van Eyck and van der Weyden, claimed Fry, did separate French and Flemish schools arise from the Franco-Flemish amalgam.2 1 0 Historian Louis Dimier was by far the most outspoken of the oppositional voices, French or foreign, reacting to the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Staunchly right-wing, a political stance which generally promotes a nationalistic platform, "he was fiercely opposed to nationalism in intellectual matters" believing that "the very concept of 'French' art was vacuous, and that the real painting of France in the sixteenth century was created by Italians, Rosso and Primaticcio, and by Jean Clouet, a Fleming (as Dimier 2 0 7 F r y , "The Exhibition of French Primitives I," 279, 281. Z 0 8 F r y , 281-2. Bandol was also called Jean de Bruges and was known to have drawn the cartoon for the Apocalypse tapestries on loan from Angers cathedral at the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. His style was a melding of French and Flemish influences that Fry said were inevitable in that turbulent period. 2 0 9 F r y , 280. 2 1 0 F r y , 'The Exhibition of French Primitives II," 356. 103 mischievously emphasized in order to embarrass those scholars who wished to see Clouet as purely French)."211 Dimier wrote few journal articles critiquing the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, the exception being his six-part series appearing in Les Arts during 1905. In these he described the history of French art from the High Gothic to the seventeenth century and, although he did not deal extensively with the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, he did specifically dismiss the likelihood of a continuous unadulterated French artistic tradition with the blunt sentence: "With these two masters [i.e., Bourdichon and Perreal], one mediocre and the other with no known works, ended the history of 'ancienne' French painting."212 His most vociferous critiques were confined primarily to small books, 2 1 3 in particular, Le portrait du XVf6- siecle aux Primitifs frangais: Notes et corrections au Catalogue officiel sur cette partie de I'Exposition dAvril-Juillet 1904,2U published in the same year as the exhibition, and Les Primitifs Frangais: Biographie Critique, published six years later. Both approached the claims of the exhibition in a point-by-point refutation of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais claims made particularly by Bouchot, who, though a worthy writer and scholar on other subjects in Dimier's eyes, had here erred in his analysis.2 1 5 The 1904 book took a different tack in an addendum called "Difficulties of 2 U R o s e n and Zerner, 190-1. 2 1 2 " L e s Origines de la Peinture francaise," Les Arts: Revue mensuelle de musees, collections, expositions 38 (March 1905): 30. 2 1 3 l n fact, Bouchot's rebuttal (in "...Un dernier mot," 176) refers to Dimier's works as 'opuscules', or minor literary works. Z 1 4 4 9 pages. 2 1 5 125 pages. 104 an Uneducated Man on the Exposition des Primitifs frangais"2™; Dimier framed his critique in a fictitious correspondence from an anonymous scholar from the provinces who was confused by the arguments made in the Catalogue Definitif. His intention in publishing this addendum, he wrote, was not to demean the wisdom of scholars whose efforts had produced such a great exhibition, but merely to act as conduit for truth: They [the following comments] are not made in order to diminish in the eyes of those who read them the worthiness of the eminent men from whom the catalogue emanated. They are presented neither in the malign hope that they can remain uncontested, nor with the deplorable intention of deprecating an enterprise already crowned with public approval, but rather with the simple desire to acquire knowledge and in the love of truth.2 1 7 The subsequent eight sections counter-argued in definitely un-ignorant terms and in exhaustive detail the main Catalogue Definitif arguments. One noteworthy section, entitled "On the Merit of Jean Fouquet" ("Du Merite de Jean Fouquet"), called into doubt the aesthetic value of one of the most highly praised and valued art works shown in the Exposition des Primitifs frangais: the Melun Diptych: Here is reunited on one panel seven works in oil by this painter, certainly or sufficiently identified. I will indicate my naive impressions of them. It is an abominable collection. The colourings of them are ruddy and dark, of a dull crudity. The drawing is poor and shapeless. The face of Saint Etienne in the panel from Berlin [fig. 24], and its attempt at foreshortening, is one of the worst made things there is. The execution of all these pieces is of a ponderousness without equal. The Virgin from Antwerp [fig. 16] in this 216"Difficultes d'un ignorant sur I'Exposition des Primitifs frangais," Le Portrait du XVI- siecle aux Primitifs frangais: 49-57. 217Dimier, Le Portrait, 49: Elles ne sont faites pour diminuer a rien aux yeux de ceux qui les liron, le merite des hommes eminents dont emane le catalogue. On ne les a formees, ni dans I'espoir malin qu'elles pourraient rester sans reponse, ni dans le facheux dessein de rabaisser une entreprise deja couronnee de I'approbation publique, mais dans le simple desir de s'instruire, et pour I'amour de la verite. 105 respect is unbearably refined. The stiffness of the strained figure, the shameful botching of the draperies, the glossy red of the cherubs, which seem to made out of badly carved wood, make it in all ways an object of ridicule.218 He ended by allowing that 'truth will out,' the very exhortation made by Lafenestre in his Introduction to the Catalogue Definitif. Dimier concluded: Thus ends the notes from my correspondent. He hoped that I would insert this word at the end, remarking that he has not drawn any general conclusion from these comments with regard to the basic thesis which the catalogue defends (although that thesis values these remarks): proof of his absolute confidence. The reader, he says, will judge them. 2 1 9 This addendum permitted Dimier to critique the Exposition des Primitifs frangais from a position that argued from a provincial, non-centralist point of view against the inflated opinions of academia and institutional bureaucrats, despite his protestations to the contrary. Dimier was not at all neutral on this subject, however; he had maintained throughout his career a rancorous relationship with the Academie des Beaux-Arts which, according to the Dictionnaire de Biographie frangaise, had maintained a conspiracy of 2 1 8Dimier, Le Portrait, 52: On a reuni de ce peintre, sur un meme panneau, sept ouvrages a I'huile, certains ou suffisamment presumes. J'en marquerai mon impression naive. C'est un assemblage execrable. Le coloris en est tantot rougeaud et noir, tantot d'une erudite blafarde. Le dessin est pauvre et informe. Le visage de saint Etienne dans le tableau de Berlin, et son essai de raccourci, est une des choses mal faites qu'il y ait. L'execution de tous ces morceaux est d'un pesanteur sans pareille. La Vierge d'Anvers a cet egard raffine sur I'insupportable. La raideur de la taille tendue, I'indigne bousillage des draperies, le rouge poli des cherubins, qui semblent etre de bois mal degrossi, font de celle-la quelque chose de tout a fait ridicule. 2 1 9Dimier, Le Portrait, 57: La finissent les notes de mon correspondent. If a souhaite que je mette ce mot de la fin, en faisant remarquer qu'il ne tirait de toutes ces remarques, quant au fond de la these que defend le catalogue (quoique cette these tienne a ses remarques), aucune conclusion generale: preuve de son absolue bonne foi. Le lecteur, dit-il, en jugera. 106 silence to marginalize him and which had offered him no official distinctions. He had also fought vigorously against Republican expulsion of clerics from educational institutions, a politically unpopular stand that had cost him his teaching position in Valenciennes.2 2 0 In the post-exhibition period immediately after the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, a number of books on the topic of the French primitifs were published. Many of them were actually collected and expanded versions of journal articles; for example, George Lafenestre's series of four articles on the Exposition des Primitifs frangais were combined with two concerning the Exposition Universelle of 1900 into a book entitled Les Primitifs a Bruges et a Paris, 1900-1902-1904: Vieux Maitres de France et des Pays-Bas.22^ Henri Bouchot's 1904 book, revealingly titled Les Primitifs frangais 1292-1500: Complement Documentaire au Catalogue Officiel de I'Exposition,222 a distillation of his Gazette des Beaux-Arts articles, further articulated the main points made in the Catalogue Definitif, and served to augment Bouchot's emphasis on the secularization of lle-de- France art production. It is also worth noting that he proclaimed with renewed vigour that only France was entitled to use 'primitif in reference to its art because the nation had been the source of the art form; the Italians were actually only "direct descendants of the Z20Dictionnaire de Biographie frangaise (Paris: Letousey et Ane, 1933: 367). Z 2 1 L e s Primitifs a Bruges et a Paris, 1900-1902-1904: Vieux Maitres de France et des Pays-Bas (Paris: Librairie de I'Art Ancien et Moderne, 1904) comprised the four-part "L'Exposition des Primitifs francais" from the Gazette des Beaux-Arts (Series 31 and 32, 563-66 (May, June, July and August 1904): 353-364, 451-76, 61-81 and 113-139) and the two-part "Les arts a I'Exposition Universelle de 1900: La peinture ancienne" from the same journal, the Gazette des Beaux-arts (Series 3, 24 (November and December 1900): 377-396 and 537-562). 2ZZLes Primitifs frangais 1292-1500: Complement Documentaire au Catalogue Officiel de I'Exposition, 2nd ed. (Paris: Librairie de I'Art Ancien et Moderne, 1904). 107 Greeks of Constantinople" and therefore not originators of any new movement, but only copyists of previous traditions.223 Virtually coincidental with the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, Georges Hulin de Loo published a book entitled L'Exposition des «Primitifs frangais» au point de vue de /'Influence des freres Van Eyck sur la peinture frangaise et provengale.224 Although he was complimentary about the success of the Paris exhibition, he takes up again his stance from the Bruges catalogue, expanding it further to list a full slate of French institutional and national inadequacies, including especially a lack of methodical and scientific record-keeping and analysis, as well as unsubtle references to the intellectual laziness of French scholars interested in studying only texts and reluctant to stir outside their offices to examine the actual works of art: The causes of the backward state of the history of French painting are many: the dispersal and relative rarity of the works, as a consequence of the numerous attacks of revolutionary and iconoclastic seizures which the country suffered; the fact that if there is in France an admirable international museum of masterpieces, the Louvre, there is nothing one could properly call an historical museum of painting which collecting as complete as possible a series of documents, allows for the study of the chronological sequence of events and the geographical distribution of artistic movements; the defective organization of acquisition committees; the lack of resources or competent direction in provincial museums; the spirit of classicism and orthodox aesthetics in all education; the absence of photographic records; the sedentary character of the nation which supports scholars who prefer z z 3 Bouchot, Les Primitifs frangais 1292-1500, 43: "...des descendants immediats des grecs de Constantinople." 2 2 4 Georges Hulin de Loo, L'Exposition des «Primitifs frangais» au point de vue de /'influence des freres Van Eyck sur la peinture frangaise et provengale (Brussels and Paris: Societe d'histoire et d'archeologie de Gand, 1904). Hereinafter called L'Exposition des «Primitifs frangais» au point de vue.... 108 to study written texts in their offices, rather than going to see the works wherever they are, etc., etc. 2 2 5 [emphasis in original] In addition to the systemic problems identified in this excerpt, Hulin de Loo issued warnings about the "more serious and more dangerous...tendency to naturalize as French certain Low Country painters by means of geographic annexation simply by moving the frontier".226 As a tool of rebuttal, Hulin de Loo chose to trace the Van Eyckian influence on a number of the most prominently praised artists and works from the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and in the process, he effectively re-nationalized the overall style of the so-called French primitifs by reinserting the Flemish influence into the mix. For example, Jehan Fouquet was claimed as an intermixture of Italian and Flemish influences on a French base and Enguerran [sic] Charonton was characterized as truly French with Italian 2 2 5 Hulin de Loo, L'Exposition des «Primitifs frangais» au point de vue..., 8: Les causes d'etat arriere de l'histoire de la peinture frangaise sont multiple: la dispersion et la rarete relative des oeuvres, par suite des nombreuses attaques d'epilepsie revolutionnaire et iconoclastique qu'a subies le pays; le fait que, s'il y a en France un admirable musee international de chefs- d'oeuvre: le Louvre, il n'y a pas a proprement parler de musee historique de la peinture frangaise, qui, recueillant des series de documents aussi completes que possible, permette d'etudier I'enchainement chronologique et la repartition geographiques des mouvements artistiques; ('organisation defectueuses des commissions d'achat; le manque de ressources ou de direction competente des musees de province; I'esprit de classicisme et d'orthodoxie esthetique dans tout I'enseignement; I'absence de photographies; le caractere sedentaire de la nation, qui porte meme les savants a etudier de preference dans leur cabinet des textes ecrits, plutot que de passer une partie de leur vie, a aller voir les oeuvres partout ou elles sont, etc. etc. Note the quotation marks in the title. 2 2 6 Hulin de Loo, L'Exposition des «Primitifs frangais» au point de vue..., 11: "...plus grave et plus dangereuse, la tendance a naturaliser frangais, certains peintres des Pays-Bas, par la voie de I'annexion geographique, en deplagant simplement la frontiere." 109 influences mixed in with Flemish-Provencal227; in addition, Hulin de Loo claimed that the Pieta de Villeneuve "profited from the Eyckian conquest."228 Henri Bouchot, it is interesting to note, replied directly to Hulin de Loo in an article published in the Revue de l'art ancien et moderne in September 1904. With ill-disguised sarcasm, he defended France and the worthy claims made at the Exposition des Primitifs frangais as a nationalistic response to aggressive foreign nationalisms: The legend of the Van Eycks had its advocate, just as the Chanson de Roland had Gaston Paris. The old woman of the arts - of all the arts -Rome, who was not attacked, has found its champion. The rampart of the North and the rampart of the South have placed themselves in a position to square up against the 'nationalists' of French art, in the name of Flemish and Italian nationalisms.229 Identifying Georges Hulin de Loo and Louis Dimier as the 'champions' of the north and south, he first disputed the logic of the former ("Mr. Hulin chases after and seeks to demonstrate that all of France, a huge territory, was a tributary of the art of a tiny corner, or a mere spot..."230 [emphasis in original]) and sarcastically used the very criticisms Hulin de Loo had voiced 2 3 1 to dispute the research techniques of the latter ("M. L. 2 2 7 Hulin de Loo, L'Exposition des ((Primitifs frangais» au point de vue..., 25 and 45-46. 2 2 8 Hulin de Loo, L'Exposition des «Primitifs frangais» au point de vue..., 49: "a profite des conquetes Eyckiennes." 2 2 9 Bouchot, "...Un Dernier Mot," 169: La legende des Van Eyck a eu son avocat, comme la Chanson de Roland eut Gaston Paris. La grand'mere des arts - de tous les arts! - Rome, qui n'etait pas attaquee, a trouve son champion. Le rempart du Nord et le rempart du Midi se sont mis en posture de regler leur comte aux «nationalistes» de l'art francais, au nom des nationalismes flamand et italien. 2 3 0 Bouchot, "...Un Dernier Mot," 173: "M. Hulin la poursuit et cherche a demontrer que toute la France, c'est-a-dire un territoire immense, fut tributaire en art d'un petit coin, d'un seul endroit...." 2 3 1 Hulin de Loo, L'Exposition des 'Primitifs frangais' au point de vue..., 11. 110 Dimier goes, by preference, to copies or to derivative works to establish the bases of his arguments. This is why, although taking part in the Committee and having the power to make corrections to the successive editions of the official catalogue, he refrained from saying anything and preferred to operate separately"232). This brief survey of responses among the French and foreign press and publishers thus indicates that reception of the exhibition was varied and extensive. Much of the criticism generally fell into critiques of trie way in which Bouchot and Lafenestre proved their argument, as well as disputes, though to a lesser degree, over the basic premise that a French primitif did indeed exist. In general this response to the show might be attributable to the fact that the 'message' was what many factions wanted to hear. Indeed, the presentation of Bouchot's and Lafenestre's theories in the Catalogue Definitif had been intended to soothe all sides. Journals of various political stripes and aesthetic positions could take what they wanted from the exhibition and, with relatively few exceptions, were generally supportive, or at least relatively uncritical, of the arguments put forward by the Exposition des Primitifs frangais. Where there was criticism it was focused much more on debates over details and definitions, rather than on the overall premise of the exhibition. With the exception of Georges Hulin de Loo, Louis Dimier, and Roger Fry, the other critics did not dispute or call into question the existence of a French primitif, or, when they did, their critiques were less pointed and more implicit which avoided placing the writers in opposition to an institution like the Louvre and performing the 'treasonable' 232Bouchot, "...Un Dernier Mot," 177: "M. L Dimier va, de preference, aux copies ou aux oeuvre derivees pour etablir les bases de son argumentation. C'est pourquoi, faisant partie du Comite et pouvant proposer des corrections aux editions successives du catalogue officiel, il s'est bien gardee de rien dire, et a mieux aime operer a part." 111 act of denying French excellence. After all, most of the owners of the journals as well as many of the writers reporting on the exhibition had a vested interest in supporting the Exposition des Primitifs frangais because of their involvement on its organizing committees and the sense of patriotism it fostered. Another impact of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais was discernible in the art market and in the acquisition policies of the Musee du Louvre. While public interest in the 'primitifs' was at its height, private collectors, both big and small, became interested in buying such images for their own walls. Both Paul Durrieu and Andre Michel in their reviews of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais took pains to warn art buyers to beware of second class works flooding the market and claiming the right to be called 'primitive'. Paul Durrieu, one of the curators of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais as well as a noted collector, summed this up in his 1904 warning: I should again point out that for this category of painting [manuscript miniatures] as for paintings, and even more than for paintings, there are a large quantity of fakes circulating, some of them very well executed. Several years ago, the Paris market was inundated with them. One particularly saw a whole invasion of fake portraits of Joan of Arc, arriving freshly hatched from foreign studios.2 3 3 Durrieu, 178: Je dois encore signaler que, pour cette categorie [manuscript miniatures] comme pour les tableaux et meme encore beaucoup plus que pour les tableaux, il circule quantite de faux, quelques executes tres habilement. II y a quelques annees, le marche de Paris en etait comme inonde. On vit notamment toute une invasion de pretendus portraits de Jeanne d'Arc, arrivant tout frais eclos d'un atelier de I'etranger. 112 The Musee du Louvre's acquisition policies had long been the focus of critical analysis,2 3 4 but Georges Lafenestre, named Curator of Paintings and Drawings in 1900, had broadened their somewhat limited scope in order to "give to the supreme masters, to superior works, the primary place, but not to forget the Louvre's role as a great school, a systematic panorama of the phases of painting."235 Critics of the exhibition had noted the paucity of early French works on the walls of the national museum's galleries as one reason the French primitif school had been so unknown to the public2 3 6; however, within a year of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais, the Louvre had acquired three notable works to fill the gaps in its collection: the La Donatrice avec sainte Madeleine (c. 1490) by the Maitre de Moulins237; the Retable de Boulbon2 3 8; and, most importantly, the Pieta of Villeneuve-les-Avignon, purchased by the Societe des Amis du Louvre.239 2 3 4Larroumet's L'art et I'etat en France, for example, contained a lengthy critique of the acquisition funds and organization of the entire beaux-arts machinery. He particularly deplored the cumbersome machinery of ministerial approvals required for each purchase and strongly advocated a kind of 'acquisition float', or endowment fund, to which certain curators would have discretionary access (249-50). 2 3 5 Henri de Chennevieres, "Les Recentes acquisitions du Departement de la Peinture au Musee du Louvre, 1900-3)," Gazette des Beaux-arts, Series 3, 30 (October 1903): 266: "Faire aux maitres souverains, aux oeuvres superieures, la part toujours premiere, mais ne pas oublier le role du large ecole que en Louvre doit tenir, panorama methodique des phases de la peinture...." This was a broadening of previous policies which under previous administrations had aimed at acquiring only the greatest works which even them was a limited field and for which the Louvre had insufficient funds. 236Thiebault-Sisson, "L'Exposition des Primitifs frangais," Le Temps 12 April 1904: 3; Guiffrey, 81; and Sauvage, 207. 2 3 7 Marcel Nicolle, "Les recentes acquisitions du Musee du Louvre," Revue de l'art ancien et moderne 16, 91 (October 1904): 308; and F. de Mely, "Une promenade aux primitifs," La revue de I'art ancien et moderne 15 (June 1904): 461. This was item #108 in the Catalogue Definitif. It had also been displayed at the Belgian pavilion at the 1900 Exposition Universelle as a Flemish work. 2 3 8 Nicolle, 310. 2 3 9 Michel Laclotte, et al., Les Donateurs du Louvre (Paris: Reunion des Musees Nationaux, 1989): 100 and 104. This is item #77 in the Catalogue Definitif. The municipal authorities in Vllleneuve-Les-Avignon were apparently under not a little duress, it seems, to relinquish the work. It is important to note that the 113 After this last purchase in 1906, as historian Michel Laclotte had noted, there was "a particular interest...in the origins of French art, that is, in the 'primitifs'. After the Pieta of Villeneuve-les-Avignon, a portrait of a child by the Maitre de Moulins (Jean Hey) and La Bataille de Cannes by Jean Fouquet were purchased. The choice of sculptures shows the same orientation."240 Despite this flurry of acquisitions, however, the main institutional and organizational problems described by Hulin de Loo were not addressed. The cumbersome structure lumbered on relatively unchanged for decades until one of many reorganization plans began in the 1970's.241 Louvre acquisition policies also re-emphasized the periphery- centre dynamic by amassing important historical artworks in the centralized site of the Musee. Several of the works obtained, the Pieta most notably, had been elevated to international masterpiece status by the exhibition's promotional material and critical praise. By purchasing works such as this, the Louvre absorbed what had been considered regional masterpieces, elevating them to the French artistic pantheon by installing them in the 'national museum.' The Louvre's role as the sole repository of French artistic patrimony was reinforced and its curators more firmly established as the only suitable custodians. Such acquisitions were both a buttress to the centrality of Paris and the work was not purchased by the Musee du Louvre itself, but by the Societe des Amis du Louvre, founded in 1897 by a group of politically influential and wealthy patrons (for example, Raymond Poincare, Edouard Aynard and Baron Edmond de Rothchild) as well as members of the Ministry. These 'concerned citizens' raised funds privately (or through government grants) for the purchase of works outside the budgetary limits of the Departments of the museums. (98) 2 4 0Laclotte 104: "...un interet particulier...pour les origines de I'art frangais, pour les 'primitifs', d'abord. Apres la Pieta de Villeneuve-les-Avignon, on achete un portrait d'enfant du Maitre de Moulins (Jean Hey) et la Bataille de Cannes de Jean Fouquet. Le choix des sculptures montre le meme orientation." Z 4 1Laurent, particularly 165-174. 114 construction of a collection of an Ecole des Primitifs frangais as a more permanent response to the accusations of neglect made by Georges Hulin de Loo in 1902 and 1904. 115 CONCLUSION The nation has now become both the subject and the object of this new cult, which has superimposed itself on the old one, no longer capable of catering for the whole of society. The nation gives perpetual homage to itself by celebrating every aspect of its past, each and every one of its social, geographical and professional groups which it believes has contributed to the general prosperity, and all the great men born on its soil and who have left lasting works in every domain imaginable.242 If one agrees with [Johannes] Huizinga that history' is the way in which a culture deals with its own past, then historical understanding is a vital cultural enterprise, and the historical imagination an important, if neglected, human faculty. Because the sources of history include in a primary sense the fundamental human practice of rhetoric, we cannot forget that our ways of making sense of history must emphasise the making. To get the story crooked is to understand that the straightness of any story is a rhetorical invention and that the invention of stories is the most important part of human self-understanding and self-creation.243 The Exposition des Primitifs frangais closed on July 14th, 1904 and the works, most of them at least, were returned to their owners.2 4 4 The publicity died away and the measure of the impact of the exhibition could be assessed. The reception and perceptions of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and the subsequent effect on the art market and acquisitions by the Louvre does not, however, indicate what, if any, was the full impact of the exhibition on the canonical structures of art history. What was the lasting impact, if any, of this event and its circumstances? Did the Exposition des Primitifs 2 4 2Kryzsztof Pomian, Collectors and Curiosities: Paris and Venice, 1500 - 1800, trans. Elizabeth Wiles- Portier [Collectionneurs, amateurs et curieux (Paris: Editions Gallimard, 1987)] (Cambridge and Oxford: Polity Press, 1990): 43-4. 2 4 3 H a n s Kellner, Language and Historical Representation: Getting the Story Crooked (Madison, WI and London: The University of Wisconsin Press, 1989): 9. 2 4 4 F . de Mely, "Seconde promenade aux primitifs." La revue de I'art ancien et moderne 15 (July 1904): 54. 116 frangais change or expand the way in which the term primitif was understood and applied to fifteenth century art production? In the decades after the 'revelations' of 1904 a number of books dealt in varying degrees with the issue of the French primitives. For example, Outlines of the History of Art (Lubke's History of Art) of 1904 devoted only five pages to early French art (versus 72 pages for early German and Netherlandish schools) and began only with the Clouet's paintings from the 1550's.245 Louis Hourticq's La Peinture des Origines au XVP Siecle was published in its first edition in 1908; he stood by the North/South traditionalist schism, with a passing reference to the furore of the Exposition des Primitifs frangais and the issue of the primitifs contained in a footnote: "Hardly any critic or archaeologist has not written about French painters in imitation of the Italian, regarding the exhibition of 1904. On that occasion, the current opinions were very given a rough time and were, on the whole, little changed."2 4 6 In 1915, French art historian Andre Michel began to publish the Histoire de TArt depuis les premiers temps Chretiens jusqu'a nos jours, a multiple-volume survey of French art history. He took a more ambiguous stance in the issue of the French 'primitif. In Volume II, published in 1907, he stated that there was a French school of painting from as early as 1350; a painter born in Bruges was no more a foreigner in Paris than one 2 4 5Wilhelm Lubke, Outlines of the History of Art (Lubke's History of Art), 2 vol., ed. Russell Sturgis (New York: Dodd, Mead & Company, 1904): 327. 2 4 6 L o u i s Hourticq, La Peinture des Origines au XVI- Siecle, 2nd ed. [1st edition, 1908], Manuels d'Histoire de I'Art Series (Paris: Librairie Renouard, 1926): "Sur les peintres frangais a I'imitation italienne, il n'est guere de critique et d'archeologue qui n'ait ecrit, a propos de l'exposition de 1904. A cette occasion, les opinions courantes ont ete fort malmenees et, en somme, peu modifiees." This footnote may reflect the 1926 attitudes more than the 1908 ones. 117 bom in Auxerres for if Flanders was "under the fleur-de-lys," it was therefore French.*4' However, by Volume V, issued in 1915, he had backtracked somewhat when he wrote that "the history of French painting begins in 1595, when great works were created to honour Henri IV."248 By 1939, when Louis Reau published his French Painting in the X/V*1, xv^ andXVP1 Centuries, the national theme of 1904 reemerged, but he tempered his by statements about the overly enthusiastic claims of 'Frenchness' at the 1904 exhibition with claims that the French were comprised of subjects of the King of France, Provengals, Burgundians and French-speaking Walloons, a broadly encompassing geography equal to the best imaginings of Henri Bouchot and Georges Lafenestre.249 Both Michel and Reau, it must be remembered, were writing separately during the First and Second World Wars respectively, times of extreme national distress when exhortations of national superiority and continuity were needed for reasons other than academic pride. At best, the Exposition des Primitifs frangais broadened the application of the term primitifs and placed heretofore little known or under-appreciated works into circulation and discussion. But did it change the canon? Slightly. In general, art historical works today regard the French Primitives primarily as an aside complementing the Italian Renaissance and to Netherlandish developments. As one example, Gardner's Art through the Ages, Z 4 7 Andre Michel, ed., Histoire de I'M depuis les premiers temps Chretiens jusqu'a nos lours, vol. II (Paris: Librairie Armand Colin, 1905-1915): 104. 2 4 8 Michel, Histoire de I'Art..., 778. 2 4 9 L o u i s Reau, French Painting in the XIV^, XVs* and XVI— Centuries (London, Paris and New York: Hyperion Press, 1939): 7 and 9. 118 a popular survey textbook first written in 1926 and re-edited periodically into the 1980's, devotes only one column in its 975 pages of text to the French schools of the fifteenth century; the Avignon Pieta as they call it is cited as "an isolated masterpiece of great power", while the "only one really major figure" mentioned is Jean Fouquet.2 5 0 The Exposition des Primitifs frangais and its issues of the 'primitif were soon overtaken. In 1907 the first show of the group, now known as the Cubists, included Picasso's Les Demoiselles dAvignon among other works, bringing a new 'primitif into the field through cross-cultural referencing. African artifacts were now re-categorized, not as ethnological artifacts, but as abstracted planes and angles breaking through the formalism of European aesthetics. Modern historian Patricia Leighten traces this 're- invention' of the primitif as founded in an anti-establishment stance: For the modernists, primitivism became a method for a revolutionary style; more, this formal radicalism often served, depending on the attitude of the artist, to present an alternative - mingling concepts of authenticity, spontaneity, freedom from the repression of bourgeois constraints, and amour libre - to currently entrenched social and aesthetic forms. The primitivism of Picasso and Derain most notably, like that of Gauguin before them, gestured toward cultures whose transformative powers they admiringly offered as escape routes from the stultification of French culture and academic art.2 5 1 The avant-garde, it seems, had taken back and re-worked the 'primitif yet again. The Exposition des Primitifs frangais, as this thesis has tried to show, was a locus of alternative readings, not only as a proposed revision of France's art historical lineage, but as an attempt to reappropriate the primitif from avantgardist and foreign definitions Z 5 0 Horst de la Croix and Richard G. Tansey, Gardner's Art through the Ages, 8th ed. (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, Publishers, 1986): 677-8. 2 5 1Leighten, 622. 119 and to construct a Republican sense of self-assertion amid shifting and polarizing meanings of 'France the Nation'. Factionalization and polarization continued to plague the Republican centre although centrist governments managed to retain relatively undisturbed power for several more years. 2 5 2 There was, however, no immediate or essential change in the way in which the nation thought of itself or indeed had always though of itself. What Lebovics calls the "tyranny of solidarity" continued to be an essential part of the French approach to national self-identification: the many were united as the one, at least at the theoretical and ideological level, if not as a reality.253 The seemingly cohesive notion of 'France' as defined and elaborated upon in the Catalogue Definitif and the Exposition des Primitifs frangais remained only a construct. 2 5 z Watson, 83; Nord, 222; and Anderson, 26. 2 5 3 Lebovics, 9. According to Lebovics and others, Michelet in the 1820's was one of the first to begin the myth of a geographical (and hence, linguistic, cultural and historical) unity of a France existing before the recorded political and historical entity. Throughout the nineteenth century this kind of retroactive nationalism was a common theme for writers and philosophers such as Ernest Renan and Ernest Lavisse (3-4). 120 S s ; c o LIOIN;N A D E LU Q C CO 3 - 4 LU to Uj —1 L U 1 i n i s 3 a n v 3 2 V H 0 > -- II s a a N i a « „ r Fig. 1 Plan of the Louvre. From Yvan Christ, Le Louvre et les Tuileries: Histoire Architecturelle d'un double Palais (Paris: Les Editions «Tel», 1949): n.p. 121 Fig. 2 Facade of the Pavilion de Marsan, northwest corner of the Musee du Louvre on the Rue de Rivoli. From Yvan Christ, Le Louvre et les Tuileries: Histoire Architecturelle d'un double Palais (Paris: Les Editions «Tel», 1949): 140. 122 E X P O S I T I O N DES Primitifs Francais A U PALAIS DU L O U V R E . . (Pavilion de Marsan) A LA BIBLIOTHEQUE NATIONALE Catalogue MM. H i x i l B O U C H O T , Membre d* l'Inititnl, Conterreteur du D*p«r- tement iet E t t i m p e i i l i Bibliotheque N i l i o n i l e (Ptimtures et • Dtitiiis); L l o r o L D D E L I S L E , Membre-de l'lnititut, Adminiitr*- teur giainl de la Bibliotheque Nitionale [Miniaturts tt Manus- crits dt la Bibliothiqui National/ tt collictions ptrticuliirts); J.-J. G U I F F R E Y , Membre de l'lnititn!, Adminiitreteur de l i Manu- facture Nationale del Gobelin* (Tafisstrits); F R A N T Z - M A R C O U , Inspecteur ftninl d e l Mofiumentt hiitoriquei {£mtmx)\ H m i M A R T I N , Contervtteur a la Bibliotheque de l'Araenal (Minid- turts dt U Biblictkiqut dt TArsim*!)-, P A U I V I T R Y , attache tux M m i e i Nationaox (Sculpturi). Preface de M . G i o a o t i L A F E N E S T R E , Membra de l'Inititut, Coneenratetir dee Peintures au Muae'e da Lourr* «.< P A R I S P A L A I S D U L O U V R E ' ' E T B I B L I O T H & Q . U E N A T I O N A L S A v r i l 1904 ' 3 mm*, Fig. 3 Catalogue Definitif - Title Page of the Catalogue. 123 Librairie Centrale des Beaart-AFts 13, Rue Lafayette — PARI8 \ EN SOUSCRIPTION : L ' E X P O S I T I O N Primitifs Francais (La Peinture en France. tout let Valoit) • p.r M. Henri BOUCHOT Ceuerrtteur it Cabinet des EiUmpes k U Blkllotki^M Nittcotlt . . O I O Cet ouvrage former* un volume petit in-fojlo contenaritj cent planches en heliogravure. Chaque planche j »era accotripagnee d'une notice due a la plume de M . Henri - ! '• Bouchot. • i P r i x de I'ouvrage en sonscription s 1 5 0 francs ! 11 sera tlrd dix cxemplaires $ur "papier des M a n u - i facrures Imperiales du Japon, au prix de 3 0 0 francs, i ' Chacun de ces cxemplaires di luxe portera le nora i du souscripteur. / ' L'ouvrage sera public en quarre livraisons men- \ suelles; la premiere paralrra le 3o Avril 1904. L U N P R O S P E C T U S I L L U S T R E SEfU E N V O Y E A T O U T E P E R S O N N t QUI L E D E M A N D E R A Fig. 4 Catalogue Definitif - Advertising page for the Librairie Centrale des Beaux- Arts, no page. 124 Georges R A P J L J L Y JrTarchand& estampes de la Bibliotheque jfationale, libraire de T€colt'^ /fationale des Jjeaux-jfris \ . ' ; % f f f $ 9, Qrjai jWolaquaia — P f l f ^ I S ^, ... . ' • . - . "^^T^ •, 2$ L i vres A n d ens & Modern es • • . sur I'Art ck. les Artistes E s t a m p e s , E a u x - f o r t e s P o r t r a i t s , etc ^ OEuvres'de R E M B R A N D T , A L B E R T , D U R E R , . M A R T I N S C I I O N G A U E R J I J I L U C A S . D E L E Y D E , . V A N ' D Y C K , P A U L P O T T E R : V A N • O S T A D B ; " 4 | M O N T E G N A , R U Y S D A E ' L , C L A U D E L B . L O R R A I N , etc.. reproduits par-ffij l'h61iogravure A M A N D - D U R A N D . - Catalogue Mentuel en Distribution. j f m m IMPRIMERIE F R A Z I E R - S O Y E • 153-157, rue Montmartrc, P A R I S . )\nriexe £ithographique : 23,T{ue du jrfail SPEC1AL1TE D E C A T A L O G U E S P O U R E X P O S I T I O N S E T V E N T E S A R T I S T J Q U E S D E T A B L E A U X G R A V U R E S , E T D ' O B J E T S D A R T T Y P O G R A P H Y — I . I T M O G R A P H I E — S I M I L I - G R A Y U R E T R A V A U X JEN 3 ' C O U L E U R S €xiculior\ par ,ous process - P«vis el specimens sur demand* T f c L i P H O N E 1 B 7 - 1 4 T I L i P H O N E 1 B 7 - 1 « V̂ J "fcffim _ i w ^ , ->.-*>^» :7 Fig. 5 Catalogue Definitif - Endpaper, no page. 125 'if PRES1DENCE D'HONNEUR: M. L I M n i l S T I I D I L ' l m T X U C T I O X Pu«LI(il)I. VICE-PRESIDENCE'SD'HONNEUR : M. i i D I I I C T I U I D U B i A U X - A i T t ; M. L I D I I I C T I U I D I L'Exiiioxninrr S U P I H U U H ADMINISTRATION DE L'EXPOSITION . .';' ' . " / . "... Prisidenl : M . £ d o t f s r d A T N A K D , . delput^ du Rhone,' mcmbre da l'lnstitut. : • • ' T f ' • •'•'[' ' Vice-Priiidttii: M . Georges B « O B * J > membre de l'lnstitut, president de l'Union Centrale des Arts decoratifs et de fa/Socie'te' des Amis da Louvre. - - . "• ••,\\, : . x Vice-President des Comji/s if organisation : Le Comte Robert D I L A S T E Y X I E , mcmbre de l'lnstitut^-^rbfesseur a T E c o l e des Chartes. Administrateurs : M . Leopold D E L I S L E , mcmbre de l'lnstitut. admi- nistrates general de" la Bibliotheque Nationale; M . J . - J . G U I P T R E Y . mera- b r e d e l'lnstitut, administrateur de-la Manufacture des .Gobelins ; M . . G a - briel H A X O T A U X , de I'Acade'mie francaise; M . - K A K M P P E H , Directcur des M u s i c s nationaux; M . J . - L . P A S C A L , membre de l'lnstitut, archilecte. inspect cur general des Batiments cjvils; M . E . S A O L I O , membre de 1 Ins- titut, conservateur honoraire du Muse'e de Ctuny. Secretaire general: M . Henri B O U C H O T , mcmbre de IVnstitut. conser- vateur du Departement des Estampes h la Bibliotheque nationale. — Secretaire : M . P . - A . L E M O I S N E , archivistc paltfographe ; — Adjoints : M M . Carle D R E Y F U S et Andre* G E R M A I N ; — Commissairt de VExposition du Pavilion de Marsan ; M . M E T M A N , conservateur du Muse'e des Arts de'eoratifs. — Tr/sorter fS\. T . M O R T R E U I L , . secretaire tre'soricr de *1» . 8ibliotheque Nationale. — Tr/.wrirr adjoint : M . Paul L A C O M B E , tre'soricr '.de la Socidte dc l'Histoire dc Paris. Catalogue Definitif - A d m i n i s t r a t i o n , p a g e V . C O M I T F . S D ' O K G A N IS A T I O N i " S i c t i O M . — P o l n t u r e d © t d e s B l n s . — PrttlJmt: M . G e o r g e s LAPIMEITH, m e m b r e de I ' l n s t i t u t , c o n s e r v a t e u r du D i p a n e m e n t de Ii P e i n t u r e i u M u s i e d u L o u v r e . ' Memtris ; M M . C a m i l l e BSNOT^ c o n s e r v s t c u r a d j o i n t d e l M u s i e i n n t i o n a u x ; F r a n c o i s BINOIT, p r o f c s s e u r 1 I ' U n i v e r s i t i de l . i l l e ; BICAKO- FA»«B. c h e f dc b u r e i u i 1 ' i d t u i n i s t n t i o n d o 1 ' e i u i - A r t i ; I I . l i e Cur.wwR- v n a i s , c o n » e r v a l e u r a d j o i n t des MUJCCI n a t i o i i s u i ; J u l c s CI>M Jn, d u e c - t c u r de la Rfvut di I'Art, a n c i e n D i r e c t e u r des [ U t i m e n t * c i v i l s ; L . DIM n a , c r i t i q u e d ' i r i ; C o m l e P a u l D u i n t u , c o n s c r v - i t e u r h o i i o r a i r e des M u s i c s n u t i o n a u s ; C h a r l e s E m a u s s i , d i r c c t c u r Ac i» G-t^dlt >t'\ Br•>ui-A rti ; L o u i s G o N i l , m e m b r e d u C o n s e i l supe'rieut' des B e a u x - A r t s ; A n a t o l e m e m b r e d c I ' l n s t i C o n d i a C h s n t i l l y ; J e a n G l A Y i , d u joufnal du DSbatt Societe' dc* A m i s d u I . o u v n . d e I'art J t ' U n i v e r s i t i d e Par M u s i e s n a t i o n a u x ; P a u l L u t i o n n c u r , v i c e - p r i i i d e d i r e c t e u r d u j o u r n a l c o n s e r v a t e u r d e « P e i n t u r e s d u M u a i e :s M u s e e * n a t i o n a u x ; A n d r e +!AL- id KOU-.HUN, s e c r e t a i r e g i n e r a l de U e; H e n r y I.IMONSKJ, p r o f c u e u r de l ' H i s t o i r e i r i s ; P a u l L t P a i f u a , c o n s e r v a t e u r a d j o i n t des t o t , d i r c c t c u r dc I'Art; J u l e s M * c i E r , ; c o l l e c - I ' U n i o n c e n t r a l e des A r t s d i c o r a t i f s ; MANM, Arts; MASJOU, c o l l e e t i o n n e u r ; A n d r e D i p a n e m e n t d c la S c u l p t u r e au M u s i e d u L o u v r e ; P i e r r e at NOLHAG, c o n s e r v a t e u r d u M u s e e d c V e r s a i l l e s ; A n d r e PF-RAT<, c o n s e r v a t e u r a d j o i n t d u M u s i c de V e r s a i l l e s ;• B e r n a r d I'SOST, i n s p e c t e u r g e n i t a l des B i b l i o l h e q u e s et a r c h i v e s ; SCHLUMHES&E», m e m b r e de l ' l nstitut ; P a u l VITST, attache1 a u i M u s i c s n a t i o n a u x . I P SECTION. — M a n u s c r i t a e t m i n i a t u r e s . - Pritidint : M. H e n r i OKONT, . r a c m b r e d c i ' l n s t i t u t . c o n j e n - d t u r d u D e p a r t m e n t d e i m a n u s c r i t s a l a B i b l i o t h f c q u e N a t i o n a l e . Mimbrti ; M M . C o u n n c , c o n s e f v a t e u r a d j o i n t an D i i p a r t c m e n i des M m i u ' c n t s de la B i b l i o t h e q u e N a t i o n a l e ; L e o n D o m , b i b l i o t h i c a i r e au D e ' p a r t e m e n t d e » M a n u s c r i t s ; le C o m t e P a u l D u m i i t ; ; C a m i l l e ' EJM.AKT, c o n s e r v a t e u r d'j M u s i * d u T r o c a d i r o ; H e n r i G.ULICK. c o l l c c t i o n n c u r ; P a u l I . e M t i u i ; G u s l a v e MACON, c o n s e r v a t e u r a d j o i n t d u M u s i e C o n d i a C h a n i i t l y ; MALC, p r o f e & s e u r d e p r e m i e r e a u L y c i e L o u i s - l e - G r a n d ; C h , de LA R o s c i m , s o u s - b i b l i o t h e c a i r e au D i p a n e m e n t des M a n u s c r i t s ; H e n r i MAKIIN, c o n s e r v a t e u r du C a b i n e t des M a n u « c r i ( s a : r » R t h l i o t h e t i u e de I ' A r s e n a ! ; S a l o m o n REINACH, c o n s e r v a t e u r d u M u s i c de S a i n t - G e r - JII'SKCI M . M . i u r i c e ••• — T a p l s s e r l e s e t d t o f f e s p e l n t o s . — President; AILLX, c o l l e e t i o n n e u r . M,t*brts; M M . C i o s r (L.), c h e f dc bureau B e a u i - A r t i ; P * i C T ( L . D I | , h i s t o r i c " d"irt i A n g c artiste p e i n t r e , c o l l c c t i o n n c u r et a m a t e u r ; J . G u n • u D ^ p a n e m e n l d e i E s t a m p e s ; J . M » c t i r , » i o a i ' a d m i n i t l r a t i o n d t s >; P o u a m t a - S * a L O v l i a , n r . t o u s - b i b l i o t h e c a i r a - p r i i i d e n t de 1 ' U n i o o c o m c r v i t e u r du M u i t e da IA»TIM L a R o Y . c o n i e i l l e r a n M u i i e d e i A r i i d ^ c o r a - , « c o u , c e n t r a l e J e ) A r u d e c o r i ( i l s ; G i s t c j n La R o u e n , m e m b i t t o n e i p o n d m i de t ' l m la C o o r d e i co'mptet ; M i r i n K , c r » n « r x t i f i ; A l b e r t MAIONAN, i r t i j t e p e i n t r e , c o l l e c t i o ' n n e u r . v. I V SUCTION, — ftmaux. — P>i\idmt: P r a n t i M> g e n e r a l d e i M o n u m e n t i h i i t o r i q u c i . Mimb'n : M M . F r a n c o i s C o u » a o i * , b i b l i o l h i c a i r e au D e p i r t e m e o i des E s t a m p e s ; E . H A » * u c o u a t , c o n s e r v a t e u r d u M u s i c d e ' C l u o y ; H e a r t DI LA TOUI, c o n s e r v i t e u r a d j o t n l du D i p a r t c m e n t d e l m i d a i l l e s • l a B i b l i o t h e q u e N a t i o n a l * . ; A b e l L a » a * n c , j e c r i t a i r e du C o l l e g e de F r a n c e ; G a i t o n M t o a O N , c o n s e r v a t e u r du D i p a r t e m e n l dc la R e n i i n a n c e au M u s i c d u L o u v r e ; L u c i e n M AONC, i t c l u t c c t c ; ).-) . SUIQUII n« VASsaiOT, a t t a c h i a u i M u s i c s o a t i o n a u x ; I'aul VITIT, a t u c h i a u i M u i i e s n a t i o - M . . VlTI o r n c n t les s a l l e i d u P a v i l i o n d c M a t : c h a r g e r de c b o i i u l p t u r e a q u i C O M ITS D E P A T R O N A G E M M . le P r i n c e A . d ' A a a N a a a o , de I ' l n s t i t u t ; E d o u a r d A r w a t D , d a V l n s t i t u t ; E r n e s t BAIILOH, de 1*1 oatitut ; S. E . M . B t i t l n , a m b a s n d e a r de F r a n c e , P a l a i s F a r n i t e , R o m e ; le due de BAUPFIIWOMT; G c o r g e i B de I ' l n s t i t u t ; BIHOUJID, a m b a s s a d e t i f de p r a n c e , Beflifc ; D ' W . DOOB, D i r e c t e u r - M u s i c R o y a l de B e r l i n ; L . BOKNAT, d a I ' l n s t i t u t ; S. E . M . CAMBON, a m b a s s a d e u r de F r a n c e , L o n d r e s ; C h . L . C A I O O N , a r c h i t e c t e , B r u a e l l c i ; G e o r g e s CLIHEKCEAU, S i n a t e u r , ; C o r r a d o R t c c i , D i r e c t e u r du M u s i c des O f f i c e s , i F l o r e n c e (Italie) ; L i o - n e l CUST ; D i v i n e , P r e s i d e n t d u C o n s e i l m u n i c i p a l ; S t i p h a n e DIITILL(, P r i i i d e n t d u C o n s e i l d ' A d m i n i s t r a t i o n d u P . - L . - M . ; L a d y D i m ; C u s - tave D a u r r u s ; C h a r l e s E^H»UJSI ; FITIJ, D i r e c t e u r de la B i b l i o t h e q u e . R o y a l e de B r u x e l l e i ( B e l g i q u e ) ; L a d y de G U T ; J . - J . G u i r r n k Y , de I ' l n s t i - tut ; G a b r i e l HANOTAUX, de r A c a d i m i e F r a n c a i s e ; H e n r i HTMAKJ, C o n - t e r v a i e u r d u C a b i n e t de> E s t a m p e s , B i b l f f o h e q u e R o / a l c , B r u x e l l e s ( B e l - g i q u e ) ; KACXTFRN, D i r e c t e u r h o n o r a i r e du M u s i c d u L o u v r e , P a l a i s du L o u v r e ; P a u l L a a o i , D i r c c t c u r de I'Art; S . A . S . tc P r i n c e de L i t c m i x - i T t i s , Palais de L i e c h t e n s t e i n , V i c n n e ( A u t r i c h e ) ; J . MACIET ; M o n i e i - g n c u f P e « « A u o , d e V A c a d e m i e F r a n c a i s e , C a r d i f i a i £ v ( q u e d ' A u t u n ; S . A . le P r i n c e RADOLIN, A m b a s s a d e u r d ' A I I e m a g n e , Paris ; le M a r q u i s de R a - TIDEAUX, A m b a s s a d e u r de F r a n c e , V i e n n c ( A u t r i c h e ) ; H e n r i Roujost, Fig. 7 Catalogue Definitif - Administration, pages VI and VII. 127 p'erpelue) dt [ ' A c a d e m i c ' " ^ B c a u i - A r t i ; I. V a n R t j i w i j c i , tc dc U V i l l e , A n * f t * ( B « l g i q u e ) ; A . S c « . i » i ; S. E. te D' SCNONI, Directeur d t i Mtltees r o ' y a u i . B c d i n ; le G>m(e de S I C I U - D O I F ; dc S n v i i , P r e f e t d e la S e m e , H d t c t - d e - V i l l e <t« i ' . n i ; S. F. M . d i S T U M . , A m b a s n d e u r d e i P a y t - B a s ; S u r i w o ; S . E . le' C o m t e T o i K i m i . A r o b a s s a d t u r d ' l i a l i e ; F.. V M t , - T , " D i r c c l e » i d e i B e a n s - A n i . H r u i e l U i ; W A U T M I , P r o i w ' l i i / de l ' h i i t o i r e it l e i ; It C o m ! . W u c t M . i VJenne ( X t h n c h c ) . ^ » A M E S ' • rd A m m t j l i m»rqui«o\^»iow»Ti' V I I C O I T I , ; ,1» c o m l e s i « J J i n ^ c C A J T t u i v ; l i cornteise G S I F F U I H I ; l i 1'Art, ; da Btj.Hi eoratesse de P O U H T A I U S f K ^ l p R E S P ^ T E G ^ T E U R S V M M . le due de r.« T » ( » o i n t ; Paul* L ^ c o h n t ; G a b r i e l I K O H I I ; G A D A L A . sgent de change-} le prince ' Q ' E s s r j N o ^ F r i A i i i i ; M * « t u s a ; E d o u n d A t NASI*; D a % o * r « s c H i i i > ( r e r t s . ; 1T»IAJ»II.VT ; M I I T ; H . P t i m i ; ], de r o i j f o u ; Hugue^s K I A F F T ; . C e r c l e d*f*T U n i o n A n i s t i q u e . DI'UTI C O C H I I , ; le b a r o n G r f f i t o ; U'Ax(>XQ(A; j £harj*j P o i a t s ; A a o t b i A c o * ; L. G O L U I C M M I O T ; D I A K B ; M o i t A C f - T J i L A T o i i - ; A\dti G M M A I N ; le coral* L. C A H E N n ' A N V c u ; F . BISCMOP'SHEI H ; le cerate de POMEMO'; C . G H Q U L T ; F . ROT ; Isidore LB-HOY ; le o t f m i e T . V d e ^ C A i i o H o o ; le corat* - B o m DF. CAST«LLAU( ; le C e r c l e A r t i i t i q u e e*. L i t t t r a i r V M " * U comtetM de P o u i r » i t s ; M . 'Ernest C O O T ' M T . _ • • M E M H R E S E T R A N C E R S D E l.'A C O M M I S S I O N S U P E R i E U R E M M . l e D" J o r y r B o r T i o e s . , S t o c k h o l m ; Btrtnw*', L a H « > e , s! C o i v i s , B r i t i s h - M u s e u m ; " H e r b e r t ' C O O K ; Robert D u : , Directeur d a Bur- l i n g t o n - M * j » j i i « r ' D t s T * i l i , D i i c o j e u r des M u s s e s R o y a u x des A r t i Industrie)*. Bru*elle.s; M »i D v o i * ' * ; C . FMirXi-,\(uiiUY.' L o n d r e s ; Fit-' G I * * I « T . Professeur i r i l n i v c r s t i i i de l i i e t e ; D« F n . B o n n ; ]. l:>tei)tANDtt, K a m i g ^ c h e - M u s / i n r i l5* VOK I d ' i r t ; II. r>« G E i « u i L i i , - T i i d e r t - H ' i d e n " * A r i h u r ' H A S I L O " , B e r l i n ; Jules H I I M O . D i r e c t o r ' d e la Rtvut J/J Art Chrttitn, a L i e g e ; H M E L T I X I , l . o n d r e i ; C n i n e l i u s HOAST'F.DF n't C> I O O T , [.»' H s v e ' f G e o r g e ' M uti!«. Pro- l e . . e u r i r U n i v c r ' l l e d e G a n d . ' G a n d | ' ! ) ' fi /"CMAIID . v o n K A U F H A X V . ' P r o - fe.seur i l ' U n i v « f s r t d " e t C o n s e i l l e r - m i m e , l l e r l i n ; ' H . K I W J m 1.FTIF»- « o * « , B r A e l U i f M i ^ f , t i i i s , . j l r r f m c T i t S e * Kupfef'stich K i b i n e i Director,, D r e s d e ; L I ' N A I K (LIJ-KOCH [leu M ujee' d^s B c a u i - A r U d ' A n v e r j ; J . L i s i i K B s , D i r e c l e f i f du K n - n i ^ l i c h t s . K u n s i g c w e r h e M u s e u m , ! B e r l i n ; D ' A . L i c n T w A ; l i , ' ; H a m b u r g :C tit M A S U A C M , P r i v a i doeent i I ' U n i v e j a i K d t C . e n e v ^ ; } i i C i l l e r i e s i n d M u P * S. S j p c C « p o i (ion A n v i t e u r adjoi Muse. T i c HI l . o n d r e i , T r u i C l i s j t o w ; A . F'i i . ; \ in j eoitieiller d ' E u i . membre eHeciif^de I ' A c i d e i A r u de S j i n i - P e i e n b o u r g ; C l a u d e PHILITPI C o l l e c t i o n ; B . - W . ^ ' . » I H R » I H N « C * m s t e r d i m ; M n R o o m , e o n . c r n t e I ' m l SEIOHL, director d e l H o h e i u r i m . u i , directeur d c i i l c i u i - A r t i , Drc<__ , . : j b i n e t R ° y » ' d " E M . m p e , ; B'. S i r n ^ o , di'recteZ"dc, H o f e n c e ; T M o n M < w . e o n . e r » . t e U r d g British M u s e u m ; V, , - , U , V . " L O N , L G L I 1 " ' = . » « U D \ C i m m « - T i n . M » c « . : o n N , d e p u i e d e C m d ; OUrg ; WtujAtKM, • 1 Ihc eur du R i j k s - M u - M u i e e P l i n t i n I M u s e u m . . B e r l i n ; secretaire-general de I ' F . i p o i i i i o n de llrugi Junes W t A i e , l . o n d r e i ; W i s c t (le C o n s u l ) , HimD< S u c d c l s c h e s K u n s l I n s t i l u l , F r i n c f u r ! - i / - M M E M B R E S D E L A C O M M I S S I O N S U K f i R I E U R E M M . le B i r o a d'Ai»*nAf,colleelionneur ; A r s e n e A L K A H D I I crit r l ; A U D I , B i b l i o i h i c . i r e de . . ville d ' A i x ; P h i l i p p e A H Q O . M , C o n s t inbre de l ' t n u i t u t ; Ernest i S i g i i m o n d BAADAC,- c o l - UE»« DE T U U Q U I | 8ir,A«o- direction des B e a u t - A r t s ; l i n i i t r a i e u r de C l u n t i l l y ; . C h i n i b r o des Deputes ; t ; IJIOUILLOH, [ D ' | ; de Par teur du M u s e e de M i r l e i l l e ; A l b e r t U M BASELOW, membre dc l ' l n s t i t u t ; l e i j i o n n c u r ; H e n r i B M A L O I , eo F A ( » E , C h e f du B u r e a u , des Musees A . de R m n . m i i , membre de 1 ' l i m i i u L e o n BOUHCEOIS, ancien p r i ' s i d c n i l U s r E u i L , [>i" de) ; Etienne BaicoN, critique Georges C A I H , conservateur des M u s i c s de la cline S«3i C A H O I . c o l i c c t i o n n e u r ;' C m Musee d ' E p i n a l ; C i i M t P C t A U (Georges), i c n a l e u r ; Jules C i A « a r n , . C O U S B I T , recevcuf M u n i c i p a l de Ij. D i r e c t i o n des H e a t i i - A r t s ; H e n r i •tji.iNii, ecrivain J ' J M ; Pierre D . n m r , membre de l ' l n s t i t u t ; D . U ( t . p u b l i e i s t c ; DATOT ( A . ) ; Em ile D u i o x i t M i , * A b b e v i l l e ; .t, i v o c a l , p r e s i i k n t du C o n i e i P i i i u n i c i p i l ; o'M ESVMNA r ; Paul D o - .cinbre de I'l nstitut, d i r « c l e u r de 1'Kcole d e s B c a u i ' A r l s ; , M o n i e i g n e u r D u u i i L i s n , mcmbre de I ' t n s l i t u l , directeur de I'Ecole de France t R o m e ; H A N D ( G . ' , A m i e n s ; E . D u i A H t > - G t t V I L L I , Acrivain d'srt; E d i o o n d F O U L C , L. de F O U I C A U D , p r o l e s i c u f * 1"Ecole des b e » u i - A r t » ; o . de la B i b l i o t h e q u e de 1'Arscnal; Paul G A U C H E I T , i f l g d - cieur-architect e, a V i e r i o n ; G u s t ave C e f ' s o r , - der i vain d'art; L i o n G i a o n , e o o s e p f i l e u r d u M u i e e N.-D. d u P u y , G U I O « A » O ( V i b b t J ( L o e h e i ) ; b a r o n I'Acjdtfmie Francaise ; s ; L. C S O S T , c h e l de bureai Fig. 8 Catalogue Definitif - Administration, pages VIII and IX. 128 http://Btj.Hi http://im.ui http://Rmn.mii I N T R O D U C T I O N i Depuis que les Gaulois, nos ancetres, amis des cou- leurs vives et des paroles sonores, furent inities, par leurs conquirants, aux seductions de la culture gr^co- romaine, la pratique des arts, plastiques ou Htteraires, n'a guere ete interrompue dans notre pays. L'art de la peinture, notamment, le plus souple de tous et le plus expressif, facile associii; de la poesie, s'y est toujours montre l'interprete fidele de nos croyances, de nos sentiments, de notre pensee. Meme aux epoques les plus troublees, a travers les longs flux et reflux des invasions barbares, sous les Merovingiens et les Carlo- vingiens, on couvre encore d'images coloriees, (decor mural, mosai'ques, tissus brodes), plus ou moins gros- sieres, les basiliques et lespalais, comme, autrefois chez les galio-romains, les temples et les villas. Les scribes Chretiens s'efforcent aussi de r^pandre, a leur tour, sur les feuillets des Missels et des Psautiers une parure semblable a celle dont leurs pr^ddcesseurs paiens decoraient les rouleaux des Poetes et des Philosophes. Les chroniques nous apprennent quelles legendessa- crees ou heroiques se deroulaient, en scenes parlantes, sur les murs des cathedrales et des residences impe- riales. Quelques manuscrits precieux nous ont conserve, outre les noms de leurs illustrateurs, des temoignages de la sincerite naive, avec laquelle ces proteges de Charlemagne et de Charles le Chauve essayaient deja d'exprimer, par une technique enfantine, la beaute du decor architectural qui les entourait, la vivacite, sau- vage ou elegante, des personnages si meles qu'ils y voyaient se mouvoir. Fig. 9 Catalogue Definitif - Introduction, page XI. 129 C E U V R E S E X P O S E E S P A L A I S D U L O U V R E 1 • P E I N T U R E S — DESSINS — EM A U X TAPISSERIES ; . • : • it ftl t Fig. 10 Catalogue Definitif - Title Page of the Oeuvres Exposees au Palais Du Louvre, no page. 130 I . Q1RARD D'ORLfeANS?, vers i35o. -. Portrait du roi de France Jean II, dit le B o n . . , H . 0 , 9 1 L . 041. PEINTURES 'ET DESSINS . '', J§. •'.VSE?: Le roi, ag< d'edviroo quarante a a t , est repre'sente' de profil a >•$• ' .';.-'-.>vi gauche. II porte la barbe rare, les cheveux coupe's sur le frontlet, tombant en meches sur le col. 11 est ve-tu d'une robe bleue & gar-' riaches etje'tices de fourrure blanche. Le fond est d'or, applique1 . sur plitre et toile, la toile elle-meme collie sur un panneau debois. \ Une gaufnire, en dentelle au poincon, est inscrite sur le pourtour du champ d'or.. La peinture a pris un ton fonce' que-fait ressortir".. Vlclat du forid. Ce tableau paralt avoir Hi peint en Angleterre, pendant la captivity du roi, aux environs de 1^59. N< e n l j i o , le roi Jean av'ait alors pres de quarante ans. Nous S a v o n s , grace a un compte ptiblii par Mgr le due d'Aumale, que le peintre Girard_ d'OrKans Itait, en quality de valet, de chambre, attache a la per- • sonne du roi en Angleterre, et qu'il peignit',\'par son brdre, divers "tableaux. Le present portrait iitait autrefois dans les appartements du roi Charles V a i'hfitel Saint-Paul, et il faisait partie d'un quatrip- tyque fermant, contcnant trois autres portraits, ceux d'Edouard III. d'Angleterre, de Charles IV, Empereur d'Allemagne et « Roi des Romains > et de Charles V alors due de Normandie. Une mention de Tinventiiro du Roi Charles V public par Labarte n' aa^fnontre que Girard d'OrMans avait peint un quatriptyq'ue de ce genre. Cette ceuvrc, d'un intdrftt historique considerable, a peu pris unique aujourd'hui cn Europe, est la prcuvc ta plus aaisissante dc l'activitd et du talent nituralistc des artistes parisiens du xiv" siecle. Dans le Fig. 11 Catalogue Definitif - Peintures et Dessins section, page 1. 131 Wmm > OEUVRES EXPOSEES • y: \ A L A ( : B I B L I O T H E Q U E / N A T I O N A L E M A N U S C R 1 T S A P E I N T U R E S Fig. 12 Catalogue Definitif - Title Page of the Oeuvres Exposees a la Bibliotheque Nationale, no page. 132 AVIS ta mm Li-galerle affectee a 1 Exposition est destfnie a devenir' ..••.•dins peu d i n n e r s , la piece pnncipale du Dipartement'de* s;-ni6d«illes et antiques de Ta Bibliotheque Nationale. En la"cons- •Jtnusaht et-en fam'enkgeant, l'architecte M . Pascal s'est astreint •y-i j faire' respectueusenient entrer les p'eintiires et les sculp- hires qui fais'aient 1'orneraent du Cabinet des midailles duRoi •.-.'• ftabli au rv'iii* siecle, au-dessus de l'arcade Colbert. ... 1 Les organisateurs de l'Exposition se .sont propos* d'y ras-. ••'•lembler un choix de manuscrits, d'apris' lesquels on pourral : luivre revolution de la peinture appliqude en France a la "..'decoration" des livres. depuis le xni* siecle jus'qu'au xv'i*. Ces' •• manuscrits sont ici catalogues suivant l'ordre cbronologique. • tuquel ii n'a ete fait que de rares exceptions, justifiees*ar des • analogies de .provenance ou de sujet. : ( ...,.-.•.-Le meme priacipe a preside, en general, au placement •.•dei manuscrits dans les'vitrines. Des exigences materielles,ont -cependant obligi de s'en ^carter sur quelques points. De -plus, il a paru convenable" de mettrea part, pour etre places dsnsun meuble special au milieu de la galerie, des morceaux . d'dlite qu'il importait de grouper, pour mieux faire apprdcler Its chefs-d'eeuvre des artistes franfais du xiv' et du xv' siecle. "En outre, trois vitrines, marquees des lettres A, B, C . ont tte consacrees a vingt-sept manuscrits de la Bibliotheque de '•• l'Arsenal et la vitrine X X a neuf manuscrits de la celebre collection de M . Henry Yates Thotp-pson. Mais tous les 4 13 Catalogue Definitif - Avis to the Manuscrits a Peintures section, page 5 133 If x n r S I E C L E 8. L E . L I B E R F L O R l D U S . . d * L a m ben La La libtr FloriJui e»t un r e c u e i l d e t n x l e i theologiquet t l hia- . o r i q u e , , qui a etc c o m p o a e . a u . commencement d i i x u - ritdi. L - e . e m p b i r e o r i g i n a l , cn partie autographe c s t . l la Hibl.othtqat de C . n d ! 'exemplaire de la b i b l i o t h e q u e Nationale doit ivotr_W n peu . p r e . le m i l i e u do a m ' " t e l e . L e i pagei " P " * " contienncnt une partie d e i figu I ' A p o c a l y p ie 111. . L E S G K A N D E S C H R O N I Q U E S D E P R A N C E . Sai E ; G c i i e v i t v e , n" -jit. E i c m p l a i r e t)ui purail b i t . . - . S i i n l - D e a i i „ o t I r t t a P h i l i p p e le H i r d i ; l a peinture, repreientiat. l o t h i n d e J C l i v r t t u f o i i CM r e p r o d u i l r n t i l e rlu i . XXIII fa N,r»,;t J,i Huiofhn-. Vitrine 111. L A S O M M E L P . R O I . ^ rr.ncaia . , , 1 . ' V o l u m e copie cn 1194 par P e r n n Jo P a l o n i , Le ieit«-«al i c c o m p j ^ ' i i t de q u i n i t tableaux. i u r l e i hull d e r n i e n detqueltaB etc t r a c c e i l e i figures a l l c g o n q u e i d e l V-icei et d e i Vertui. La rut me l u i t t de p e i n t u f o i e retrout-e d a m ( r o i i aulret mioatcm do I ' P . i p o i i t i o n : let n " 149,14 et 9)8 de l i Bibliothfcqiie Naliouk ( n - 45 e l 1 )b de ce l i v r e l ) et le n' 6119 dc I ' A r i e n a l (cc-tica u i ) l i l l e e . i t l e a u n i J i n . j e m i . 8 ^ de ta M a i a r i n o et daol b mi. a d d i l i o n h e l 18161 du M u i e e l i r i t a n n i q u e . — L e i roil. 9)1* 14931) n n u i ont conserve ie programme d i t a i l l e d e i itij*u l/w I ' t n l u m i n e u i devait trailer. ' Vitrine IV.'. . . P S A U T J E R D E L A S A I N T E - C H A P E L L E . (vera 90.) C a b i n e t da M . i l . y»Il* THOMPJOI. H i n u i c r i l p o i t O i e u r k l a mort du r o i P h i l i p p e le H i r d i , istt- rieur • la canonisation de saint L o u i s . Vitrine X X . a . B R E V 1 A I R E D E P A R I S . / ' • Latin IOIJ . M * o u s c r i \ ei£ctitc! peu de t e m p i avant la c/nooisatioe de ttiat L o u i i (1197), 1 I ' u n g * de l i f t m i l l t r o y i l c / S u r l ^ r o n t i s p i " representee! d e u i seines de 1'tiiitoire de D l v i d . ' Deliile,'iVo(.V« dt do*{t Hunt roja**\. 57. Vitrioa IV. ,3. P S A U T I P . H R ' O K I G I N K M t T U S l E N N E . Ce l i v r c , qui pcul dale grand nombre de p e i i i o . P»f d e i legcndes, in, l i g n e i . i l y 1 beaucoup dc cioquis de p e r s o n n e l do 14. L A S A I N T E A 011A Y H . • - T r n i t i i a l l c g o r i q u c d e Latin I04)f,. In * i i f siecle, renferme un dotit le sujet eat capli^ le* m a r ^ s et a u i bouts ,'.c - figures (trotejquei el de Vitrine I V . m p l . i e M . I I M . T Y a r . s Tsln* I e v o i i o n . •e'u^'ri-eaemrlaire de J Musee b r i m liRraphe <•( du /rtfi.ir t-1111 j 11.111,-11 r. L a d . . i r ;.<•)" cn * t V " f i e K ni d a n . le gran a S i c i e t d pate'( Roi qui l o r m f aii)ou.'d')nii I.e. d e u . m a n n e r ! . , n n m e de Ha- c i l l i x u p l i e •nn> de ' • R e p f » d t l t i i » n de -.graphique ( p i . 141 el J< f.'l cl dans le R r o u e i l de M . W i : R e p r o d u c t i o n dc peinture. dc la Sainte A b t ' i v e d a m I ' o u v r i . ; du comte de Italian! el d*r>< le C at a ln^u r i l l u i l r f ' d e la Hibliot h t q n Didot... ' ) Vitrine X X . 14 bi). P S A U T I E R D ' I S A B E l . I . E . fille de P h U l p p . It B d , rein. d ' A n g l e t t r r t . M i . francais 16 de la-Hibliotheque Royale de M u n i c h . P l a U l i e i latin et (ranfaii qui dul clre fait. [TubiWernent en A n ' gleterre. quelque t e m p , apitM le wtri^t d l . i l . e l l e avec Edouard II ii d'Ani(lelerre ( i J " « V La i ' h o l o g r i p h i e de p l u s i t u r i J.a^r1 .de C . Teufel de M u n i c h , eit expo.ee tetdani ta collection • c h i u i i e o . V'eitibule/ . B I B L E L A T I N E . donr I t , mlniaiurca K>nt accompagnte* dca caqulnei devanl .trvir'de g i i i i k J I'tnlumlneur. 1' ^PS. (Vitrine C, n* 11.) Ml Fig. 14 Catalogue Definitif - Manuscrits a Peintures section, pages 8 and 9. 134 http://compoae.au http://expo.ee Fig. 15 Jean Fouquet, The Melun Diptych, right wing (La Vierge et I'Enfanf), c. 1450. From Michel Laclotte, ed., French Art from 1350 to 1850 (New York: Franklin Watts, Inc., 1965). 135 Fig. 16 Nicolas Froment, Le Buisson Ardent, 1475-76. From, Michel Laclotte, ed., French Art from 1350 to 1850 (New York: Franklin Watts, Inc., 1965). 136 Fig. 17 Enguerrand Charonton, La Triomphe de la Vierge Marie, 1453. From Michel Laclotte, ed., French Art from 1350 to 1850 (New York: Franklin Watts, Inc., 1965). 137 Fig. 18 Ecole de Nicolas Froment, Pieta, avec saint Jean, la Vierge, la Madeleine et un donateur, 1470?. From Lawrence Gowing, Paintings in the Louvre (New York: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1987). 138 Fig. 19 Le Peintre des Bourbons, dit Le Maitre de Moulins, Saint Victor et donateur, c. 1480. From Grete Ring, A Century of French Painting, 1400-1500 (London: Phaidon Press Ltd., 1949). 139 Fig. 20 Jean Fouquet, Portrait de Charles Vll, c. 1445. From Lawrence Gowing, Paintings in the Louvre (New York: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1987). 140 Fig. 21 Ecole de Nicolas Froment, Miracle d'un Saint portant sa tete dans ses mains en presence des donateurs, c. 1480. From Grete Ring, A Century of French Painting, 1400-1500 (London: Phaidon Press Ltd., 1949). 141 Fig. 22 Jean Malouel, Martyre de saint Denis, c. 1400. From Lawrence Gowing, Paintings in the Louvre (New York: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1987). 142 Fig. 23 Le Peintre de Bourbons, dit Le Maitre de Moulins, La Vierge et I'Enfant-Jesus avec quatre anges, c. 1490. From Grete Ring, A Century of French Painting, 1400-1500 (London: Phaidon Press Ltd., 1949). 143 Fig. 24 Jean Fouquet, The Melun Diptych, left wing (Etienne Chevalier), c. 1450. From Michel Laclotte, ed., French Art from 1350 to 1850 (New York: Franklin Watts, Inc., 1965). 144 Fig. 25 Ecole de Paris, Altarpiece of the Parlement de Paris (called Le Calvaire), c. 1450. From Lawrence Gowing, Paintings in the Louvre (New York: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1987). 145 Fig. 26 Girard d'Orleans, Portrait de Jean le Bon, c. 1380. From Lawrence Gowing, Paintings in the Louvre (New York: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1987). 146 Fig. 27 Ecole d'Artois (Le Maitre de Flemalle), UAdoration des Bergers, c. 1430. From Lawrence Gowing, Paintings in the Louvre (New York: Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1987). 147 BIBLIOGRAPHY Primary Sources Arsene, Alexandre. "Les Primitifs frangais." Le Figaro (Paris) 13 April 1904: 4. Babeau, Albert. Le Louvre et son histoire. Edited and corrected. Paris: Firmin-Didot et cie., 1895. 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Minneapolis: University of Minnesota Press, 1994. 168 APPENDIX 1 Contents Analysis of the Exposition des Primitifs francais The following numerical analyses of the exhibition contents were derived from data provided in the Catalogue Definitif. Contemporary newspaper and journal reports indicate that there were new items being added to the exhibition throughout its 3 month run (witness the Supplement section in the Catalogue Critique itself) and so it is therefore possible that these figures are indeed not the final ones. However, since the Catalogue Critique can be considered an 'official' record of the event, I have used them for my analysis of content. 1. OBJECTS ACCORDING TO MEDIUM Object No. of Objects % of Total % at Site Exhibition Pavilion de Marsan: Paintings 294 42.0 64.0 Enamels 25 3.5 5.5 Tapestries 54 8.0 12.0 Sculptures 58 8.0 12.5 Mural copies 29 4,0 6.0 Total: 459 65.5 100.0% Bibliotheque Nationale: Manuscripts 242 34.5 100.00% Total: 242 34J 100.0% Totals: 701 100.0% 2. OBJECTS ACCORDING TO SUBJECT This is a broad (and highly subjective) classification system which I have used simply to ascertain the relative split between secular and religious subjects. This is of course problematic when faced with objects in which the donor is prominently displayed in the company of his or her patron saint in an act of how prayer or other religious rite. Is this a religious painting because of the donor is depicted? Or is it a secular painting because of the portrait-like depiction of the donor? Where, in my 169 judgement, the donor image predominates over the religious content, I have classified it as secular. Where the reverse balance is evident, I have classified the work as religious. In both cases, I have used the scale of the respective depictions as one indicator of the applicable category. Object Secular % of Total Religious % of Total Paintings 149 32.0 145 31.5 Enamels 18 4.0 7 1.5 Tapestries 36 8.0 18 4.0 Sculptures 15 3.0 43 9.0 Mural copies 218 47"!b% 29 242 6.0 53.0%* * Discrepancy of total to individual percentages results from rounding. 3. OBJECTS BY LENDER The following information is incomplete because, based on the Catalogue Critique alone, it is difficult to determine the exact number especially where the lender's city is not specified.2 5 4 Even though incomplete, I think these figures do indicate an interesting relationship between the number of Parisian owners and the number of objects being loaned in comparison to the number of non-Parisian lenders. 2 5 4 T h i s does not differentiate foreign (i.e., non-French) owners living in France or French owners living outside France. Because surname and city were used to make this distinction, a not infallible criterion to say the least, I have included such individuals in the most obvious category, that is, by city where cited, unless there is undoubted evidence to the contrary (e.g., M. Weber, Consul a Hambourg). a. Pavilion de Marsan : # of Lenders # of Items % of Total Institutions - Paris 8 132 29 - Non-Paris French 25 58 13 - Foreign 6 . 14 3 Private - French 2 5 6 98 213 40 - Foreign 28 165 42 459 _9 100 Summary: Lenders Items Number % Number % Foreign Lenders: 4 20.5 56 12 French Lenders: 131 79.5 165 100.0% 403 459 88 100% Rihliotheoue Nationale (ManuscriotsV # of Lenders # of Items % of Institutions - Bibliotheque de I'Arsenal 25 212 88 - Other 10 10 4 Private (nationality unspecified) 15 SQ 20 242 _8 100 Note; Because the section in the Catalogue Definitif which deals with manuscripts was organized quite differently from the sections on painting, etc., it is very difficult to determine exactly which manuscripts were loaned by whom. The above figures are estimates. 2 5 5 These figures include only paintings, sculptures, enamels and tapestries. See the following chart for lenders to the manuscript exhibition. z 5 6 C i t y was only specified for non-French/foreign lenders; therefore this category cannot be more precisely expressed. 171 APPENDIX 2 Table of Exhibitions, 1878-1904 This information was obtained by surveying contemporary journals, especially the Gazette des Beaux-Arts and La Revue de l'art ancien et moderne, The Burlington Magazine and the Revue de I'Art Chretien. The criteria are that these are exhibitions occurring between 1878 and 1904 and that their focus was on art production in Europe between approximately 1000 AD and the mid-seventeenth century. Abbreviations: EU = Exposition Universelle El = Exposition Internationale EN = Exposition Nationale Date Location Title Content/Comments April 1904 Sienna Exposition de I'ancien art siennois Multimedia and multinational; sculpture, paintings predominantly Jul?-Oct? 1904 Dusseldorf Exposition des maitres ancien or Exposition des Primitif Allemands, depending on the journal 411 paintings, 170 manuscripts, 12 tapestries; multinational Spring 1902 Bruges Expositions des Primitifs flamands Paintings by Flemish/Netherlandish artists only Sept 1902 Dusseldorf Exposition retrospective d'art religieuse Complement to the 1902 industrial exhibition; 13th- 15th c. objects; no paintings 1900 Paris Exposition des tresors d'eglises frangaises In conjunction with EU 1900 Objects only 1900 Paris Exposition retrospective In conjunction with EU 1900 1900 London Van Dyck Exhibition 1900 Florence Exposition des Maitres Anciens Very small show; from private collections 172 Date Location Title Content/Comments Aug 1899 Paris Exposition de dessins Cabinet des etampes - 15th - 18th centuries Sept 1899 Dresden Cranach Exhibition March 1899 London Rembrandt Exhibition Royal Academy 1899 Madrid Velasquez Exhibition 1899 Antwerp Van Dyck Exhibition 1899 London Netherlandish School 165 works at the New Gallery Aug 1898 Berlin Exhibition of Art from the Middle ages and the Renaissance Objects only; Italian and Flemish only 1898 London Exhibition of School of Lombardy Masters First 1/2 of 16th Century 1898 Amsterdam Rembrandt Exhibition 1898 ? Italian Masters Galerie d'Altenburg and Galerie Lindenau (Commercial) Jan? 1898 Basel Swiss and German Masters 14-16th century 1897 Brussels Exposition Retrospective In conjunction with El 1897 1897 Geneva Exposition des arts anciens In conjunction with EN Sept 1896 Orvieto Exposition d'art religieuse Objects only July 1895 Utrecht - Exposition d'art ancien 15th-17th century 1893 Madrid Exposition d'art retrospectif Multimedia; primarily nationalistic content; 13th century on 1892 London Flemish School Exhibition 60 paintings at the Burlington Fine Arts Club 1890 Berlin Dutch art exhibition 15th century on 173 Date Location Title Content/Comments 1890 Tours Exposition Retrospective Regional, multimedia, 1400's on 1889 Paris Exposition Retrospective In conjunction with the EU 1889 1889 Ghent Exposition Retrospective de peinture 1400's on; some national focus 1887 London Exposition Retrospective Royal Academy Early Renaissance; various schools 1887 Paris Exposition de Tableau de Maitres Ecole des Beaux-Arts Several schools; 15th century on 1886 Limoges Exposition d'art retrospectif Regional Exhibition Objects from 12th century on 1885 Nuremberg Exposition Retrospective In conjunction with EN Multimedia from 14th century 1884 Budapest Exposition Retrospective d'orfevrie Objects, 12th century on 1883 Berlin Exposition des oeuvres de Maitres anciens Early 16th Century on; local/private collections 1883 Amsterdam Exposition Retrospective In conjunction with EU 1883; no paintings mentioned, objects only 1883 Paris Exposition de Portraits du Siecle 400 works dating from David on 1882 Lisbon Exposition Retrospective Objects primarily 1880 Dusseldorf Exposition Retrospective In conjunction with EN Middle ages to Rococo 1880 Brussels Exposition Retrospective In conjunction with EN 1880 Multimedia 174 Date Location Title Content/Comments 1880 Le Mans Regional exhibition Objects only combined with contemporary works and industrial objects 1880 Turin Exposition Retrospective Church art 2nd-16th century July? 1879 Paris Les Dessin des Maitres anciens Ecole des Beaux-Arts 1878 Paris Exposition des portraits nationaux In conjunction with EU 1878 1878 Paris Exposition Retrospective In conjunction with EU 1878 175 APPENDIX 3 COMPONENT PARTS OF THE CATALOGUE DEFINITIF FOR THE EXPOSITION DES PRIMITIFS FRANCAIS The component parts of the Catalogue Definitif are as follows: Title page 1 Committees and Patrons 6 Introduction 22 Pavilion de Marsan - Oeuvres Exposees Title Page 1 Catalogue Entries (including supplements) 154 Index 8 Bibliotheque Nationale - Oeuvres Exposees Title Page 1 Avis [Introduction] 3 Catalogue Entries 75 Index 6 Plates (32 in total) Paintings 23 Drawings 2 Tapestries 2 Sculptures 2 Manuscripts 3 Advertisements (both in the front and back 8 of Catalogue Definitif) Total Pages 285 176 
work_pyygdp4ekfg5nfsz372o4we43i	----	286 I N D I A N A M A G A Z I N E O F H I S T O R Y dream books that helped bettors pick lucky numbers, “African American diviners wrote the script of black ur- banism through visions captured while Bronzeville slept” (p. 63). The chapter closes with an account of policy as subject matter for the documentary writings of the Illinois Writers’ Proj- ect and the imaginative writings of Bronzeville’s poets and novelists. Gwendolyn Brooks and Rich- ard Wright are the focal subjects of Chapters Four and Five, respectively. Schlabach deploys biographical de- tails to contrast Brooks’s “sense of ease” in her Bronzeville environment with Wright’s “feeling of not belong- ing there” (pp. 76-77). More original is her exploration of the tropes of confinement, crowding, and domi- nation that run through works like Wright’s photo-documentary 12 Mil- lion Black Voices (1941) and Brooks’s novel Maud Martha (1953). The squalid “kitchenette” flats housing poor blacks emerge as the prime set- ting and concrete symbol of a “misery of place” limned by both writers (p. 108). Schlabach argues, however, that Brooks imbues the harsh cityscape with a softening light of grace, of small victories achieved through quo- tidian (and often feminine) rituals of survival. A brief conclusion offers a look at contemporary Bronzeville and suggests that its complex “mixture of vibrancy and decay” (p. 123) supports “a perspective that disallows overde- termined narratives of hope and/or despair” (p. 125). Along the Streets of Bronzeville is, on balance, a flawed but sometimes interesting study that advances what may be considered a midwestern turn in African American studies. While not the historian’s best point of entry into this emerging field, it is a book to consider. riChard a. Courate, Professor of English, Westchester Community College/SUNY, is co-author of The Muse in Bronzeville: African American Creative Expression in Chicago, 1932- 1950 (2011) and co-editor of Root, Branch, and Blossom: Social Origins of Chicago’s New Negro Artists and Intellectuals (forthcoming). From the Bullet to the Ballot attempts to combine the history of racism and corruption in Chicago, Illinois, with a day-to-day history of the Black Panther Party in Chicago. Jakobi Wil- liams argues that the chapter’s leader, Fred Hampton, and the Chicago- based Panthers left a lasting impact on multiracial political coalitions in that city, and the entire nation. The From the Bullet to the Ballot: The Illinois Chapter of the Black Panther Party and Racial Coalition Politics in Chicago By Jakobi Williams (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2013. Pp. x, 285. Illustrations, notes, index. $34.95.) REVIEWS 287 Chicago Panthers created a template for working-class and poor people’s revolutionary political organizing that they called the Rainbow Co- alition. That framework, Williams contends, played a direct role in Barack Obama’s election as president. Unfortunately, a limited number of primary sources, a poorly organized central narrative, and spotty analysis of evidence impairs Williams’s none- theless important book. From the Bullet to the Ballot opens with an overview of twentieth-centu- ry racism and political corruption in Chicago. A second chapter reviews the origins of the Black Panthers in Chicago and argues that the group represented a continuation of the city’s failed civil rights movement. A third chapter compares the Chicago Panthers with the Black Panthers in Oakland. Aside from a fantastic sec- tion on women in the Black Panthers (pp. 110-23), this discussion relies primarily on anecdotal descriptions of assorted institutions (such as black churches) and events (such as the infamous 1968 Democratic National Convention) in its efforts to distin- guish the Chicago Panthers from other chapters around the country. In Chapter Four Williams discusses the Black Panthers’ innovative participa- tion in multiracial, class-based coali- tion politics—“the original rainbow coalition,” as he calls it. The Chicago Panthers’ rainbow coalition referred to its hope to create a massive politi- cal movement of all of the city’s poor people. Williams intends to show how the Panthers influenced other local radical groups in Chicago, but his narrative of this is thin and rests on a list of meetings, long descriptions of articles written by activists, and police surveillance reports. Williams’s next chapter recounts an important history of police bru- tality against black Chicagoans and rehashes the corruption of the Richard J. Daley administration. It was this culture of police corruption and rac- ism, Williams argues, that led to the police murder of Fred Hampton and the nefarious cover-up that followed. A final chapter connects the Chicago Panthers’ Rainbow Coalition with the subsequent iterations of that political vision that accompanied the mayoral election of Harold Washington, Jesse Jackson’s campaigns for the presidency in the 1980s, and the 2008 presidential election of Barack Obama. Wooden prose and confusing organization abound in this book. Despite Williams’s judicious cita- tions, the book also suffers from its overreliance on a few types of primary sources: The author admits that many former party members re- fused to speak with him because they planned to write their own accounts. While Williams uses an impressive collection of Chicago police records, his story leans too much on these re- ports, or on quotes culled from video documentaries and memorial panels. From the Bullet to the Ballot is a book that, while filled with important intel- lectual and political subjects, could have benefitted from more careful 288 I N D I A N A M A G A Z I N E O F H I S T O R Y editing, clearer organization, and more substantive analysis. Brian purnell is Associate Professor of Africana Studies and History at Bowdoin College. He is the author of Fighting Jim Crow in the County of Kings: The Congress of Racial Equality in Brooklyn (2013), which won the New York State Historical Associa- tion’s manuscript prize in 2012. He is starting a second project, tentatively entitled, “Unmaking the Ghetto: Community Development Corpora- tions and the Fate of America’s Black Metropolises.” Bonds of Alliance: Indigenous and Atlantic Slaveries in New France By Brett Rushforth (Chapel Hill: University of North Carolina Press, 2012. Pp. vii, 406. Illustrations, maps, charts, appendix, index. $39.95.) The seventeenth-century arrival of French colonists in the Americas extended older practices of Native American captive-taking and trans- formed slavery into a complicated mix of markets and alliances. Colo- nists in Canada and the Pays d’en Haut found themselves dependent upon slave exchanges as a means to maintain alliances and ensure control of intertribal relations, as no other gift could signal the importance of maintaining and reinforcing the bond between tribes and France. For Native Americans, slaves were explicitly “outsiders” who functioned as a means to unify members of a tribe as “insiders,” or non-slaves. Reciprocal gift giving was central to maintaining relations among tribes and slaves-as-gifts signaled especially significant bonds. Frenchmen, how- ever, considered slavery an uncertain practice that stood in stark contrast to the humanist ideals emanating from the French Renaissance. Slavery did not exist in the French homeland (outside of visiting Mediterranean galley slaves). At the same time, in France’s overseas colonies slavery was a central component of economics and everyday life. Brett Rushforth’s Bonds of Alliance thus addresses multiple narratives, ranging from the Great Lakes to the Caribbean and across the Atlantic. French justifications for the le- gality of colonial slavery ultimately relied in part upon distance. African kingdoms, understood as nations with the right to enslave others, simply sup- plied France with individuals already transformed into slaves. In colonial New France, it was far more difficult to distinguish enslaved neighbors from allies. In order to establish a similar distance in North America, the term panís became the standard means to designate indigenous slaves. Rushforth makes it clear that only a few of the 
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work_lmtu7ehrifghnfk3za7uabkzaa	----	DEATH AND THE ILLUSTRATED BOOK: PRINTERS, EXPERIMENTATON AND THE REINVENTON OF THE DANSE MACABRE, 1485-c.1530s by Maja Dujakovic B.A., The University of British Columbia, 2002 M.A., The University of British Columbia, 2004 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILLMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE AND POSTDOCTORAL STUDIES (Art History and Theory) THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA (Vancouver) August, 2015 © Maja Dujakovic, 2015 ii ABSTRACT This thesis considers the adaptation of the Danse macabre (Dance of Death), a popular late medieval visual and literary theme prevalent in mural paintings, into a series of illustrated books published in France towards the end of the fifteenth century. W hile the first known edition, printed in Paris in 1485 by Guy Marchant, was based on the famous and now destroyed mural from the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents (painted 1424-25), subsequent editions published by presses in Paris, Lyons, Troyes and Geneva included additional figures and often placed the theme together with other texts and images of similar subject matter thus framing the Danse macabre in a novel context. Despite this, however, previous scholarship has treated the books mainly as replicas of the lost mural and overlooked their status as inventive works of art. Nor have the extant editions been studied in detail even though they vary considerably in terms of content, layout and medium, all of which has an effect on how the theme is presented in each book. By studying the series within the context of early printing in France, the thesis situates the books in the transitional period of bookmaking, from scribal to printing culture, and argues that they were a product of collaboration and experimentation among some of the most prolific printers and publishers of the period, including Marchant, Antoine Vérard and Mathias Husz. In discussing their printing practices, the thesis emphasizes the crucial role the printers had in editing the work and reinventing the theme. The late fifteenth century in France was also marked by an unprecedented exchange of artistic practices across multiple media, facilitated in part by the proliferation of the printed works, which became the locus for diffusion of images and ideas. In this context, the Danse macabre books helped to popularize the late medieval theme and even served as the model for mural paintings and an illuminated manuscript. Ultimately, the thesis reveals not only that the books are distinctive and innovative works, but also that they participated in a much broader scope of image production than previously assumed. iii PREFACE This dissertation is the original, unpublished, independent work of the author, M. Dujakovic. All images from the Bibliothèque nationale are reprinted with the permission of the library. All images from the British Library are reprinted with the permission of the British Library Board. All images from the Lambeth Palace Library are reprinted with the permission of the library. iv TABLE OF CONTENTS ABSTRACT .................................................................................................................... ii PREFACE ...................................................................................................................... iii TABLE OF CONTENTS ............................................................................................... iv LIST OF FIGURES ....................................................................................................... vi ACKNOW LEDGMENTS ............................................................................................... xii CHAPTER ONE Introduction ........................................................................................ 1 Context and Issues .................................................................................................... 1 Layout of Chapters ................................................................................................... 18 CHAPTER TWO Death in Print: The Danse macabre and the Medium of Illustrated Books ........................................................................................................................... 22 The Printing W orkshop and the Bookstore – New Spaces of Death ..................... 22 The Danse macabre mural and the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents .................... 27 A Case for Printed Books......................................................................................... 38 The Danse macabre Illustrated Books: Format and Diffusion ................................ 45 The Ambiguous Image of Death .............................................................................. 51 Questions and Issues .............................................................................................. 67 CHAPTER THREE Death and the Business of Printing: Guy Marchant and the Production of the Danse macabre Books ................................................................... 78 The Printers and the Bookseller – New Figures in the Dance of Death ................ 78 Early Printing in France (1470-1500) ...................................................................... 82 Between Script and Print: The Book in the Transitional Period ............................. 88 The Career of Guy Marchant ................................................................................... 92 Printing the Illustrated Book ................................................................................... 100 How-to-live and How-to-die: The Shepherd’s Calendar and the Danse macabre ................................................................................................................................ 116 Translating, Augmenting or Reinventing: Strategies for Marketing Illustrated Books ................................................................................................................................ 126 CHAPTER FOUR La danse macabre nouvelle: W omen, Fools and the Agency of the Printer ................................................................................................................... 137 The Big Twist .......................................................................................................... 137 The New Danse...................................................................................................... 139 Marchant and the Framing of the Danse macabre of W omen ............................. 144 v W omen and Death in French Manuscripts and Literary Traditions, c. 1460-1520 ................................................................................................................................ 149 W omen’s Dance of Death: Layout and Content.................................................... 152 On Death and Dancing .......................................................................................... 156 W omen, Sin and the Gender of Death .................................................................. 160 The Here-and-Now: Paris and the Urban Context ................................................ 169 The Aftermath of Death .......................................................................................... 175 Fooling with Death ................................................................................................. 178 CHAPTER FIVE The Salutary Mirror: Editing and Viewing the Illustrated Book .... 192 Death and the Viewer ............................................................................................ 192 The Material Nature of the Printed Book and the “Acts of Viewing” ..................... 196 The Question of Audience ..................................................................................... 206 The Impact of Color: Hand-Painted Editions Published by Antoine Vérard ......... 211 Husz and the Total Edition ..................................................................................... 224 The Viewer in the Book .......................................................................................... 236 CHAPTER SIX Conclusion ....................................................................................... 246 FIGURES ................................................................................................................... 252 BIBLIOGRAPHY ........................................................................................................ 328 vi LIST OF FIGURES Figure 1. The Author, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure-et-Loire), fresco, c. 1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic........................................................................... 252 Figure 2. The Pope and the Emperor, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure- et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic................................................ 253 Figure 3. The Peasant and the Infant, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure- et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic................................................ 254 Figure 4. The King, the Patriarch, La danse macabre,Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure-et- Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. ................................................... 255 Figure 5. The Burgher, the Curate and the Doctor, La danse macabre,Meslay-le- Grenet (Eure-et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. ........................ 256 Figure 6. The Three Dead, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure-et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. .............................................................. 257 Figure 7. The Three Living, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure-et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. .............................................................. 258 Figure 8. The Cardinal and the King, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189.............................................................................................................................. 259 Figure 9. Four Dead Musicians, La Grant danse macabre des hommes y des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278 .............................................................................. 260 Figure 10. The Printers and the Bookseller, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735 ............................................................................................ 261 Figure 11. The King, La danse macabre, illuminated manuscript, c.1500, Bibliothèque nationale, Ms. fr. 995, folio 3 ................................................................ 262 Figure 12. La danse macabre, La Ferté-Loupière, Yonne (Burgundy), fresco, c. 1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic .............................................................................. 263 Figure 13. Horae Beatae Virgini Mariae, printed Book of Hours with the Danse macabe marginal decoration in the Office of the Dead section of the book, published by Simon Vostre, c. 1500, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Arsenal, 4-T-949..... 264 vii Figure 14. The Legate and the Duke, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735 ............................................................................................ 265 Figure 15. The Carthusian and the Sergeant, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735 ............................................................................................ 266 Figure 16. The Nun, Les simulachres et historiees faces de la mort, designed by Hans Holbein, Lyons, 1538, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Z-1990 ........ 267 Figure 17. The Merchant, Les simulachres et historiees faces de la mort, designed by Hans Holbein, Lyons, 1538, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Z-1990 ... 268 Figure 18. The Author, La danse macabre, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, between September 1486 and June 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-88 .............................................................................................. 269 Figure 19. The Author with the Dead King, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, between September 1486 and June 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-88 ................................................................................................................. 270 Figure 20. Anonymous, The Cemetery and the Church of the Holy Innocents, c. 1570, oil on wood, Musée Carnavalet, Paris ............................................................ 271 Figure 21. The Abbot and the Bailiff, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 279 ................................................................ 272 Figure 22. The Author, The Pope and the Emperor, the Monk and the Usurer, the Doctor and the Lover, La Danse macabre, printed by Pierre Le Rouge for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1491-92, originally printed as a placard and hand painted, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Te-8 ........................................................... 273 Figure 23. The Archbishop and the Knight, the Bishop and the Squire, the Franciscan and the Infant, the Cleric and the Hermit, La Danse macabre, printed by Pierre Le Rouge for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1491-92, originally printed as a placard and hand painted, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Te-8 ............................ 274 Figure 24. The Three Living, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189 ........ 275 Figure 25. The Three Dead, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189 ........ 276 Figure 26. The Three Living and the Three Dead, La danse macabre, La Ferté- Loupière, Yonne (Burgundy), fresco, c. 1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic .............. 277 viii Figure 27. The Pope and the Emperor, La danse macabre, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, between September 1486 and June 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-88 .............................................................................. 278 Figure 28. La danse macabre, La Chaise-Dieu, Auvergne, c.1470. Photo credit: Alexander Hoernikg ................................................................................................... 279 Figure 29. The Archbishop and the Knight, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189 ....................................................................................................................... 280 Figure 30. The Bishop and the Squire, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189.............................................................................................................................. 281 Figure 31. Guy Marchant’s printer’s device showing saints Crispin and Crispinian and his motto Sola fides suffict. Detail from the title page of Le Compost et kalendrier des bergiers, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1493, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. M. V. 33 .. ....................................................................... 282 Figure 32. Guy Marchant’s printer’s device showing the figure of Prestre Jehan. Detail from the title page of Le Compost et kalendrier des bergeres, printed by Guy Marchant for Jean Petit, Paris, 1499, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V- 1266............................................................................................................................ 283 Figure 33. Death, the Infant and the Mother and Death, the Peasant and the Sower,Le mors de la põme, Jean Miélot, c. 1470, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Ms. fr. 17001 .............................................................................................................. 284 Figure 34. The Legate and the Duke, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés. Ye. 189 ........ 285 Figure 35. The Halberdier and the Fool, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189 ....................................................................................................................... 286 Figure 36. Pains of Hell, showing the gluttons, detail. Le Compost et kalendrier des bergiers, woodcuts designed by Pierre Le Rouge, edition printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1493. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. M. V. 33 ................................ 287 Figure 37. Pains of Hell, showing the covetous men and women, detail. Le Compost et kalendrier des bergiers, woodcuts designed by Pierre Le Rouge, edition printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1493, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. M. V. 33. ...... 288 Figure 38. Mouth of Hell and Death on a Horse, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86 .................................................................................................... 289 ix Figure 39. Zodiac Skeleton, Le Compost et kalendrier des bergiers, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1493, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés. M. V. 33................................. 290 Figure 40. La danse macabre, La Ferté-Loupière, Yonne (Burgundy), fresco, c. 1500, detail. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic.................................................................... 291 Figure 41. The Peasant, the Franciscan and the Infant, La danse macabre, La Ferté- Loupière, Yonne (Burgundy), fresco, c. 1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic .............. 292 Figure 42. The Hypocrite and the Female-Fool, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 149, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.Ye. 86 ................................................................................................................. 293 Figure 43. The Merchant W oman and the Bailiff’s Wife, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86 ............................................................................... 294 Figure 44. The Bourgeois W oman and the W idow, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.Ye. 86 ................................................................................................................. 295 Figure 45. The Regent and the Knight’s Lady, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86 .................................................................................................... 296 Figure 46. The Priestess and the Lady, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.Ye. 86 . 297 Figure 47. The Saleswoman and the Prostitute, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86 .................................................................................................... 298 Figure 48. Master E. S. A Couple Embracing, engraving, c. 1450-1466 ................. 299 Figure 49. The Queen and the Duchess, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86 ................................................................................................................. 300 Figure 50. The Debate Between the Body and the Soul, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86 ............................................................................... 301 Figure 51. The Debate Between the Body and the Soul, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.Ye. 86 ................................................................................................ 302 x Figure 52. The Complaint of the Damned Soul, The Debate Between the Body and the Soul, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 149, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86....................................... 303 Figure 53. Death, the Theologian and the Fool, Le mors de la põme, Jean Miélot, c. 1470, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Ms. fr. 17001 ............................................ 304 Figure 54. The Ship of Eve, Jehan Drouyn, La nef des folles, Paris, c. 1500, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. M-YC-750 .................................................. 305 Figure 55. The Cleric and the Hermit, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189.............................................................................................................................. 306 Figure 56. The Pope and the Emperor, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 279 ................................................................ 307 Figure 57. The Carthusian and the Sergeant, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Bibliothéque nationale de France, Vélins 579 ................................... 308 Figure 58. The Archbishop and the Knight, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Bibliothéque nationale de France, Vélins 579 ................................... 309 Figure 59. The Astrologer and the Bourgeois, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Bibliothéque nationale de France, Vélins 579 ................................... 310 Figure 60. The Three Dead, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 279 .............................................................................. 311 Figure 61. The Three Living, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 279 .............................................................................. 312 Figure 62. Title page, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735 ......................................................................................................................... 313 Figure 63. Cry de Mort, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735 ......................................................................................................................... 314 Figure 64. La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735 ............ 315 xi Figure 65. Exortation de bien vivre y de bien mourir, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735 ......................................................................... 316 Figure 66. Title page, La Grant danse macabre des hommes y des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278 .............................................................................................. 317 Figure 67. The Patriarch and the Constable, La Grant danse macabre des hommes y des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278 ......................................................... 318 Figure 68. The Ship of the W orld, La Grant kalendrier, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278 ................................. 319 Figure 69. Pains of Hell, La Grant kalendrier, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278............................................... 320 Figure 70. . Pains of Hell, La Grant kalendrier, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes,1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278, detail showing the reader’s marks ........................................................................................................... 321 Figure 71. Cry de mort, La Grant danse macabre des hommes y des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278 .............................................................................................. 322 Figure 72. The Pope, La danse macabre, unknown printer, Geneva, 1503, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-331 ....................................................... 323 Figure 73. The Monk, La danse macabre, unknown printer, Geneva, 1503, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-331 ....................................................... 324 Figure 74. The Author with the Dead King, La danse macabre, unknown printer, Geneva, 1503, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-331 ............................. 325 Figure 75. The Author with the Dead King, La danse macabre, unknown printer, Geneva, 1503, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-331, detail showing the reader’s writing ........................................................................................................... 326 Figure 76. The Compositor and the Printers, La grand danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Pierre de Sainte Lucie, Lyons, 1555, The British Library Board, C.47.h.12 ................................................................................ 327 xii ACKNOWLEDGMENTS This dissertation was completed with the help and support from many individuals and institutions. I would like to thank my supervisor, Dr. Carol Knicely, who first introduced me to macabre art in one of her brilliant graduate seminars, for her constant guidance, advice and support during the writing of this thesis. I also wish to thank members of my supervisory committeee, Dr. Bronwen Wilson for her invaluable comments and suggestions, especially in the final stages of completing my text, and Dr. Maureen Ryan for her enthusiasm for my project over the years. This thesis could not have been written without the financial support from the Social Sciences and Research Council of Canada, which allowed me to pursue my studies and made it possible to take several extended trips to France and England. A travel grant from the Department of Art History, Visual Art and Theory at the University of British Columbia helped fund my trip to Lyon to partake in a course on the study of incunabula at the Institute for the History of the Book. While in France, my research benefited from the guidance and advice offered by Professor Jêrome Baschet, whom I thank. I would also like to express my gratitude to the faculty, staff and students at the Department of Art History, Visual Art and Theory for their friendship and support. I especially want to thank Dr. Serge Guilbaut who offered helpful suggestions and guidance during the different stages or my research and writing. I also thank my colleagues and fellow students for their years of friendship, support and inspiration: Jasmina Karabeg, Krystel Chehab, Ivana Vranic, Ivana Horacek, Joan Boychuk and Lisa Andersen. Lastly, I would like to thank my family and friends both in Vancouver and abroad for their love, encouragement and patience. I am grateful to my parents for their support and understanding and to my sisters, Bojana and Marija, for always being there for me. I thank Ivana Franovic and Vanja Petrovic for their friendship and encouragement and Stephanie Quintin for her help during my travels in France. This thesis would not be possible without Kokan and Luka whose love and understanding gave me the strength to finish it. 1 CHAPTER ONE Introduction Context and Issues Dressed in a traditional garb of a medieval scholar and seated in an elaborate chair in front of an open book, the figure of the Author (L’Acteur) gazes at the viewer while pointing to the procession arranged on a wall in a painting (Fig. 1). 1 Appearing twice in the image, at the beginning and at the end of the procession, the Author does not actually participate in the dance, but rather functions as a mediator between the beholder and the picture and calls attention to the moral of the image. A line up of figures stretches before the Author – an uncanny sight of corpses and men – arranged according to their station in lay and clerical hierarchy, beginning with the Pope and the Emperor and ending with the Infant and the Monk (Figs. 2 and 3). Although the figures are located outdoors – the ground is covered in fresh green grass – the space they occupy appears claustrophobic because the bodies of the living and the dead are pressed too close to one another, their arms and legs overlapping. The dead are portrayed naked save for the loincloth that partially covers their emaciated, decomposing bodies. Some carry objects associated with death and dying – coffins, spears and scythes – while others are busy holding on to the living figures and urging them to move in the direction of the procession. Unlike the dead, the living are fully clothed in the costumes that denote their status and profession and many hold accouterments that further signal their occupation in life. The bearded Emperor holds an orb, the King carries a scepter, the clerics are holding on to their crosses, each carefully demarcating their position within the 1 In the literature, this figure is refered to either as the Author or the Authority. He delivers the prologue and the epilogue of the Danse macabre, both of which are directed at the viewer. 2 Church, while the Doctor examines a urine flask (Figs. 4 and 5). Yet, ironically, their social postion and material possessions are no longer of any importance, for the figures are being forced into the dance that leads to death and the dissolution of worldy goods. In the register below the fresco are verses in French, a cheeky dialogue between each living figure and the cadaver next to him, that are meant to further liven up the image. The verses allude to the fact that the painting portrays a dancing procession, though ironically it is only the dead that are demonstrating any kind of movement. Lifting their bony knees up in the air, hopping and twisting, the cadavers are dancing an erratic, wild dance, while the living figures with their stiff bodies and shocked expressions appear immobile. This image is the Danse macabre, or the Dance of Death, one of the most popular visual genres of the late Middle Ages in northwestern Europe (henceforth Danse). Derived from the religious discourse of the Contemptus mundi (“contempt of the world”) tradition and similar didactic literature, the Danse is meant to signify the transience of earthly lif e and material possessions while also emphasizing the equalizing power of Death. The painting just described is found in a small, twelfth-century church dedicated to Saints Oriens and Blaise in the community of Meslay-le-Grenet, located about fifteen kilometers from the town of Chartres in the Eure-et-Loire region in France. Sometime in the late fifteenth century the church began a program of redecoration at which point several frescoes were painted in the nave, including the image of the Danse. The fresco stretches over the lower part of the south and west walls of the nave, right above the rows of pews where the congregation gathers. 2 Above the image on the south wall is a depiction of another popular macabre theme, the legend of the Three Living and the Three Dead (henceforth the Three Living) (Figs. 6 and 7). In the legend the three princely hunters encounter a ghastly sight of the three decomposing cadavers in the forest who warn them to mend their ways and think of the consequences of sinful living. Like the Danse, the Three Living is 2 According to Elina Gertsman, pews were being introduced in Christian churches by the fifteenth century and it is possible that they were already there before the fresco was made. See Elina Gertsman, The Dance of Death in the Middle Ages: Image, Text, Performance (Turnhout: Brepols, 2010) 158. 3 also typically accompanied by verses that capture the didactic and often humorous dialogue between the hunters and the dead, yet in the legend the living figures do not actually die and are merely warned. By the time the Meslay Danse was painted, the theme was already popular in France and there were several mural examples including: the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents in Paris (1424-25), Kernascleden, Brittany (1440-60), La Chaise Dieu, Auvergne (c.1470) and Kermaria, Brittany (c. 1490). The mural from the Innocents in Paris, painted on the interior cloister wall of the Cemetery, was particularly influential and well known, generally credited as the first visual depiction of the theme, not just in France but also elsewhere in Europe. However, despite the existing murals, the fresco at Meslay-le-Grenet was not directly modeled after any of the known painted examples. Instead, an illustrated book containing woodcuts and verses of the Danse – probably an edition published by the famous Parisian publisher Antoine Vérard – was used as the model for the fresco. 3 As I will show, this is because by the late fifteenth century the subject mater was taken up by the medium of illustrated book and the printed image of the Danse became the locus for the diffusion of the theme in other media. The process through which the Danse macabre illustrated books assumed such prominence and the implications this had on the late medieval theme are among the key issues addressed in the present study. In September of 1485, the Parisian printer Guy Marchant published the first known edition of the Danse. The book was printed in folio format and illustrated with fifteen woodcuts that portrayed thirty male characters – two pairs per page – with the accompanying verses (Fig. 8). 4 Marchant modeled the woodcuts after the mural at 3 There is some disagreement with regards to the source for the Meslay fresco in scholarly literature. Gertsman believes that woodcuts published by Parisian printer Guy Marchant were used as models for the image, while Marie-Dominique Leclerc credits Vérard’s edition as the most likely source. See Gertsman, 147-48 and Marie- Dominque Leclerc, “Les fresques”, Danser avec le mort: Les danses macabres dans les manuscrits et les livres imprimés du XVe au XXe siècle, eds. Marie-Dominique Leclerc, Danielle Ouéruel and Alain Robert (Lyon: Musée de l’imprimerie, 2004) 26- 28, 26. Based on the striking visual similarity between Vérard’s images and Danse from Meslay-le-Grenet, I would agree with Leclerc’s claim. 4 For an electonic facsimile of the first edition see the website of the Bibliothèque municipale in Grenoble where the only copy of the first edition is preserved ( 4 the Cemetery of the Innocents, though it is difficult to ascertain how closely the printed images actually resembled the fresco since the painting was destroyed in the seventeenth century during the reconstruction of the neighboring street. Shortly after he published the first and the second editions, Marchant began the work on an augmented version, which he published in June of 1486 under the title La danse macabre nouvelle. 5 The book contained ten new living figures, five addional wooducts, as well as an original image and verses of the Four Dead Musicians inserted at the beginning of the Danse, after the figure of the Author (Figure 9). 6 Each playing a specific instrument, the Musicians visually add a reference to music in the Danse, even though, judging by the mismathched choice of musical contraptions, the tune they are producing is likely not particularly harmonious. At this time, Marchant also added the poem of the Three Living, illustrated with two facing woodcuts, which he placed after the Danse. Marchant’s illustrated editions must have sold well because just a month later, in July of 1486, he published an edition of the Danse macabre des femmes – an original work that focused solely on female protagonists and included, in addition to the Three Living, two more illustrated poems concerned with the subject of death and sin, namely Le debat dun corps et dune ame (The Debate Between the Body and the Soul) and La compliante de lame dampnee (The Complaint of the Damned Soul) (henceforth the Debat and the Complainte). 7 Marchant’s editions of the Danse were among the earliest illustrated books published in Paris. The success of his editions prompted other printers and http://pagella.bm-grenoble.fr/img- viewer/I/I327/viewer.html?base=BMG&np=I327_01.jpg&ns=I327_01.jpg 5 The second edition, virtually identical to the first, must have been published after September 28, 1485 and before June 7, 1486, when the augmented edition was published. The sole copy of the second edition is preserved as the Bibliothèque nationale in Paris as Rés.-Ye-88 (henceforth BN). 6 The new figures added to the Danse represent a combination of established medieval social roles such as the Pilgrim, the Schoolmaster or the Duke as well as individuals representing types or professions that became more prominent in the latter part of the fifttenh century like the Halberdier and the Fool. 7 For an electronic facsimile of this edition see La Danse Macabre de Guy Marchant, ed. Pierre Champion (Paris: Editions des Quatre Chemins, 1925). 5 publishers to produce their versions of the Danse, which often diverged significantly from the model established by Marchant. Between 1485 and c.1503 at least nineteen editions of the work were published and the title continued to be printed, though more sporadically, over the course of the sixteenth century by printers working in Paris, Lyons, Troyes and Geneva, reflecting the widespread popularity of the books at the turn of the century. The printers who published editions of the Danse are some of the most famous individuals in the history of early printing in France and include, besides Marchant and Vérard, Mathias Husz, Nicole de la Barre, Gillet Couteau, Jean Menard, Pierre Le Rouge, Jean Belot and others. In the early years of printing in France, publishing any edition – especially an illustrated one – was a risky and expensive endeavor. For this reason, printers were often forced to collaborate with different presses and with publishers and booksellers in order to secure funds and market their works. The late fifteenth century was also the period of transition in the world of bookmaking – the scribal culture was still in existence and the new printing culture was just emerging and beginning to establish itself – which meant that printers and publishers of illustrated works frequently entered into partnerships with illuminators who helped to design the woodcuts they were using. Books produced through such collaborative practices, including editions of the Danse, are unique objects that reflect the transitional nature of the period and are marked by continual processes of experimentation in terms of their content, format and medium. However, despite their popularity and range there is of yet no comprehensive study of the Danse macabre books. Scholars concerned with the history of early printing in France discuss the series in general, as examples of popular illustrated works in vernacular, but pay little attention to the adaptation of the famous medieval theme of the Danse in the medium of illustrated book. 8 Conversely, studies on macabre art reference the printed books – especially Marchant’s first edition that 8 See, for example, Lucian Febvre and Henri-Jean Martin, The Coming of the Book: The Impact of Printing 1450-1800, trans. David Gerard, ed. Geoffrey Nowell-Smith and David W ootton (London: NLB, 1976) and Histoire de l’édition française, Tome I, Le livre conquérant: Du Moyen Age au milieu du XVIIe siècle, eds. Henri-Jean Martin, Roger Chartier and Jean-Pierre Vivet (Paris: Promodis, 1982). 6 was based on the fresco from the Innocents – but treat them mainly as replicas of the original mural and repeatedly deny them the status of distinctive works of art. 9 Authors that do discuss representations of the Danse in illustrated books rarely study them in relation to the history of early printing in France or acknowledge the printing practices of the individual printer or publisher. 10 Although studies of the Danse published by Leonard Kürtz, Joel Seigneux or Helene and Bertrand Utzinger do include lists of printed editions, they are typically not discussed in much detail even though they range considerably. 11 Especially absent from most studies on macabre art is a question of where the books fit in relation to the larger artistic practices of the late fifteenth-century France, despite the fact that this was the period marked not only by the transition from scribal to printing culture, but also by an unprecedented artistic exchange across multiple media, including illustrated books. Contrary to how the Danse macabre books were studied in the past, my dissertation considers the series primarily in relation to the history of early printing in France. Although Marchant’s 1485 edition was based on the mural from the Innocents, I argue that subsequent editions did not merely replicate the theme, but actually adapted and reframed it and should thus be understood as innovative works. Printers such as Marchant and Husz augmented the work by adding new figures, new verses and additional illustrated texts, hence encasing the Danse in a framework that diverges significantly from the original fresco model. Furthermore, Marchant’s editions of the Danse macabre des femmes are particularly innovative 9 See James Midgley Clark, The Dance of Death in the Middle Ages and Renaissance (Glasgow: Jackson, 1950); Jöel Saugnieux, Les danses macabres de France et d’Espagne et leurs prolongements littéraires (Lyon: E. Vitte, 1972); Gertsman, The Dance of Death and Ashby Kinch, Imago Mortis: Mediating Images of Death in Late Medieval Culture (Leiden: Brill, 2013). 10 See Jane H. M. Taylor, “Un Miroer Salutaire,” Dies Illa: Death in the Middle Ages, ed. Jane H. M. Taylor (Liverpool: Francis Cairns, 1984) 29-43 and David A. Fein, “Guyot Marchant’s Danse Macabre: The Relationship Between Image and Text.” Mirator (2000): 1-11. 11 Saugnieux, Les danses macabres de France; Leonard Paul Kürtz, The Dance of Death and the Macabre Spirit in European Literature (New York: Columbia UP, 1934); and and Hélène and Bertrand Utzinger, Itinéraires des danses macabres (Chartres: Garnier, 1996). 7 because, even though the verses originated in scribal culture, the woodcuts are not based on a previous pictorial model and there were no women included in the mural from the Innocents. For these reasons, the women’s series bears little in common with the mural precedent, beyond thematic and compositional similarities. My dissertation emphasizes the crucial role the printers and publishers had in editing the work and reinventing the theme. In the past, the scholarship on macabre art rarely awarded the printers much agency – apart from Marchant and occasionally Vérard, few printers of the Danse books are even identified – and their work is typically described as repetitive rather than innovative. By focusing on the printing practices of individual printers who produced the books and analyzing specific editions in detail, my study demonstrates that the editorial input of early printers was central in shaping the Danse in the medium of illustrated book. The choice of medium (paper or parchment), content and format in which editions were published all had a bearing on how the theme was presented to the viewer. The printers, I argue, made use of the ambiguous nature of the Dance of Death theme, which though religious and didactic in origin could also be understood in less devout terms, and published editions that vary greatly. Some books were intended to serve as self - help guides that aided the believer in their quest for salvation, while others celebrated the aesthetic quality of the illustrations and the lure of the visual. Printers like Marchant did not steer away from underlining their role as the mediators between the book and its reader: his colophons identified the ideal audience (“men and women who desire salvation”) and helped to define the principal purpose of the editions. In the early years of printing, novelty was especially favored by the reading publics and printers frequently marketed their books as augmented, newly translated or revised in hopes of gaining wider readership. Editions of the Danse convey this concern in their titles (La danse macabre nouvelle, La grãt danse macabre and the Miroir Salutaire) and in their colophons and title-pages that often allude to ways in which printers had expanded the editions. As I argue, woodcuts and verses of the Danse were published together with additional texts and images and the books were conceived as a single cohesive unit from the beginning, a fact rarely acknowledged 8 in earlier studies on macabre art. 12 Unlike medieval compendia or miscellany in which disparate texts and images were put together by a compiler, often times haphazardly, illustrated editions like the Danse should be understood as compilations or anthologies that reveal a conscious effort on the part of the editor to supply the narrative for the work and in turn inform the viewer’s experience of it. 13 Not only do the added texts stem from similar didactic literature, further implying a deliberate effort on the part of the editor to create a cohesive volume, but it is also clear from the more ‘complete’ editions, published in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century, which begin with the Danse and end with the Last Judgment, that a number of printers were interested in structuring the theme in specific religious contexts. Just as the mural examples have recently been studied by Elina Gertsman in relation to their architectural settings and general pictorial programs of the churches in which they were painted – a methodology that has proven fruitful and which has emphasized the specificity and uniqueness of each fresco – my study reveals the importance of addressing all aspects of the book in order to understand how the Danse functioned in the new medium. Discussing the illustrated books in relation to publishing strategies of their makers also helps to underscore to what extent the editions were shaped by the emerging printing industry in France. As mentioned earlier, the entrepreneurial aspect of the industry in which presses appeared and disappeared frequently and the success of the business depended on the printer’s ability to recognize the trends in the market, forced the printers into collaborations and partnerships with publishers, scribal workshops and other presses. Financing an illustrated editon was particularly challenging since the printer needed to obtain the typographical material 12 It is not often that the other illustrated poems are analyzed in any detail, see for instance, Taylor, “Un Miroer Salutaire” and Sophie Oosterwijk, “Dance, Dialogue and Duality in the Medieval Danse Macabre,” Mixed Metaphors: The Danse Macabre in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds. Sophie Oosterwijk and Stephanie Knöll (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholar Publishing, 2011) 9-42. 13 See Jane H. M. Taylor, “A Priest of Poetry to the People: Antoine Vérard and the Anthology”, The Making of Poetry: Late-Medieval French Poetic Anthologies, Jane H. M. Taylor (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2007) 229-295. 9 and hire an artist to design the images. To make most use of each illustrated volume, printers often issued editions of the same title that catered to different clientele. For example, in 1490 Marchant entered into partnership with bookseller Geoffroy de Marnef and printed a Latin edition of the Danse, which was intended specifically for the customers of de Marnef’s shops. 14 Likewise, Marchant’s editions of the Danse macabre des femmes were prompted by the success of the men’s versions and the two works were intended to function as complementary units, thus expanding the impact of the theme. At the same time, his interest in producing a series with female protagonists also reflects the growing trend in the late fifteenth- century printing in France that showed predilection towards books with women protagonists, such as the Shepherdesses’ Calendar or the Ship of Female-Fools. 15 Although the illustrated versions of the Danse developed out the earlier fresco example, one of the central features of the printed editions is the way the printers were continually updating the series. Even Marchant’s first edition – which probably closely replicated the mural from the Innocents painted in the 1420s – portrayed the living figures dressed in costumes that reflect the fashion of the 1480s, with round toe shoes, wider crowned hats and calf-length gowns. 16 The 1486 edition of the women’s Danse, which was illustrated with only two woodcuts, presented the figures of the Queen and the Duchess in fashionable dresses with cuffed sleeves. Yet, by 1491, when Marchant issued a full set of woodcuts, the ladies were clothed in wide sleeve gowns modeled to the body that were in vogue in the last decade of the century. 17 Such concern with revising the books and making them more relevant to their turn of the century audience was not, of course, limited solely to sartorial matters. 14 Sandra L. Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant (1483 – 1504): High Culture and Low Culture in Paris,” Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books, circa 1450-1520, ed. Sandra L. Hindman (Ithaca and London: Cornell UP, 1991) 68- 100, 86. 15 See, for instance, Yona Pinson, The Fool’s Journey: A Myth of Obsession in Northern Renaissance Art (Turnhout: Brepols, 2008). 16 Anne H. van Buren, Illuminating Fashion: Dress in the Art of Medieval France and the Netherlands, 1325-1515 (New York: The Morgan Library and Museum, 2011) 242. 17 Ibid. 248. 10 One of Marchant’s main updates in the 1486 edition of the men’s Danse concerns the insertion of the Fool (le Sot) at the end of the procession – a decision that was followed in 1491 by the inclusion of the Female-Fool (la Sotte) in the roster of figures that made up the Danse macabre des femmes. Even though Marchant was not the first to incorporate the figure of the Fool into the Danse – a fresco from Basel painted c.1440 set the precedent – I argue that the printer’s intention in bringing such characters into his illustrated editions responds to the changing discourse around the theme of folly at the end of the fifteenth century, which culminated in the publication of Sebastian Brant’s famous treatise Das Narrenschiff (The Ship of Fools) in 1494, one of the most frequently printed books of the period. Similarly, Mathias Husz’s edition of the Danse, published in Lyons in 1499, featured paragraphs taken from an apocalyptic text known as the Antechrist that was particularly popular and oft-published throughout Europe right at the turn of the century and which expressed the growing anxiety over the belief that the end of time was fast approaching. Here again we see the careful editorial strategy of the early printer who chooses from a selection of popular yet relevant treatises in order to expand and update an edition of the Danse, in this case by including appropriate eschatological verses that imbue the theme with serious religious context. Husz’s edition is also noted, as I will elaborate shortly, for the inclusion of a unique woodcut, inserted in the middle of the men’s Danse, that depicts Death visiting the Printing W orkshop and the Bookstore, which introduced the audience to the new technology of printing while at the same time functioning as a sly of advertisement for Husz’s own workshop in Lyons (Fig. 10). One of the most common practices of early printers was the reuse of the same woodcuts for different texts. Prompted largely by the high cost of designing and publishing an illustrated edition, printers frequently resorted to recycling the same images several times over. 18 However, save for the figure of the Author that opens the Danse, which was used in multiple editions of the period issued by 18 For examples of this practice see A Heavenly Craft: The Woodcut in the Early Printed Books: Illustrated Books Purchased by Lessing J. Rosenwald at the Sale of the Library of C. W. Dyson Perrins, ed. Daniel De Simone (New York: George Braziller and W ashington: Library of Congress, 2004). 11 different presses, this strategy was not possible with other woodcuts in the series because they were designed in close correlation with the accompanying verses and thus not easily adaptable. 19 Given their limited usage, the fact that the Danse books were published at all and with such frequency at the turn of the century suggests that the printers who published them did so knowing that they would profit because the books were popular. Yet despite their limitations, Marchant managed to incorporate woodcuts from the series and even a whole set of the Danse macabre des femmes illustrations in his other publications, most notably the Shepherd’s Calendar and the Shepherdesses’ Calendar, as will be discussed in the third chapter. Best described as precursors of modern almanacs, these books were concerned with larger themes including astrology, astronomy and medicine and the presence of the printed image of the Danse in such works suggests that theme circulated more widely than usually assumed. The Danse macabre illustrated books emerged during the important moment of transition from medieval to Renaissance art in France, at the time when artists working in different media favored collaborations and artistic exchange. The collaborative practices were particularly popular in the world of bookmaking because the end of the fifteenth century was also marked by the appearance of the printing culture and the slow but steady replacement of the earlier scribal traditions, as I will dicuss in the third chapter. 20 Publishers and printing workshops frequently collaborated with scribes and illuminators, especially in Paris, which had a long tradition of manuscript production and was the home of some of the most renowned scribal workshops in Europe. Very often the same artists illuminated pages of 19 On woodcuts of the Author from the Danse see Cynthia J. Brown, “Text, Image and Authorial Self-Consciousness in Late Medieval Paris”, Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books, circa 1450-1520, ed. Sandra L. Hindman (Ithaca,New York: Conrell UP, 1991)103-42; and Cynthia J. Brown, Poets, Patrons and Printers: Crisis of Authority in Late Medieval France (Ithaca, New York: Cornell UP, 1995). 20 The transition from script to print was a long and complicated process. On this issue see Julia Boffey, Manuscript and Print in London: c. 1475-1530 (London: The British Library, 2013); Brian Richardson, Manuscript Culture in Renaissance Italy (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2009) and David McKitterick, Print, Manuscript and the Search for Order, 1450-1830 (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003). 12 manuscripts and designed illustrations in printed books. 21 For example, the illuminator known as the Master of Jacques Besançon entered into partn ership with Vérard and hand painted many of his printed editions, including a copy of the Danse produced for the royal library of King Charles VIII. Likewise, printers and publishers such Philippe Pigouchet and Simon Vostre, who specialized in the production of printed Books of Hours, worked closely with scribal workshops and used the same design for their illustrations as are found in the illuminated manuscripts made in the period. 22 At the same time, it is important to emphasize that the process of exchange between scribal and printing workshops was not simply one directional. W hile printers and publishers borrowed heavily from scribal tradition, the advent of printmaking was also beneficial for illuminators as it provided new opportunities for their work and awarded them even more prominence. 23 The illustrated books were not only modeled after scribal examples, but also occasionally served as prototypes for manuscript copies. This was the case with the famous Danse macabre manuscript (Bibliothèque nationale, MS. fr. 995) produced at the end of the fifteenth century and intended for a royal patron, possibly Anne of Brittany or Margaret of Austria, which was entirely based on the editions of illustrated books published by Marchant and Vérard (henceforth BN) (Fig. 11). 24 The reuse of models in late medieval art is, of course, not a novelty. Throughout the period, artists supplied models for tapestries, embroideries, stained- glass windows and in some cases, even sculpture. 25 However, what is unique about the artistic practices of the late fifteenth century France is that the diffusion of 21 Elisabeth Taburet-Delahaye and Séverine Lepape, “The Diffusion of the W ork of Art”, Kings, Queens and Courtiers: Art in Early Renaissance France, ed. Martha W olff (New Heaven and London: Yale UP and the Art Institute of Chicago, 2011) 163-181, 163. 22 On the exchange of images in printed Books of Hours and illuminated manuscripts of the period see Isabelle Delaunay, “Echanges artistiques entre livres d’heures manuscrits et imprimés produit à Paris,” diss., U of Lille III, 2000. 23 Taburet-Delahaye and Lepape 163. 24 Sandra L. Hindman, “The Illustrations,” The Danse Macabre of Women, Ms. fr. 995 of the Bibliothèque Nationale, ed. Ann Tukey Harrison (Kent, Ohio and London, England: The Kent State UP, 1994) 15-43, 26. 25 Taburet-Delahaye and Lepape 163. 13 models in different media took on an unprecedented scope. 26 The dispersal was in part because the public taste at the time veered towards replicated models rather than original works of art and because the advent of printing made the book into a locus for a dispersal of designs and ideas. 27 The process through which the graphic arts assumed a dominant position in the art of the period has only recently been studied in more detail and scholars are constantly pointing out new similarities among the works produced in diverse media, from stained-glass windows and polychrome enamels to tapestries and illuminated manuscripts. 28 In the context of the Danse books that are, ironically, often dismissed by scholars of macabre art as mere copies of the mural – a notion that may not have been seen as a disadvantage by their contemporary audience – the diffusion can be traced in several examples. Besides the illuminated manuscript discussed above, the books were also used as models for the murals at Meslay-le-Grenet and at La Ferté-Loupière in Yonne, Burgundy, which was painted in the early sixteenth century (Fig. 12). W oodcuts of the Danse were reused in printed Books of Hours – a bestseller of the period – in editions published by Pigouchet and Vostre and later Thielman Kerver, where they served as border imagery surrounding the prayers and miniatures in the Office of the Dead (Fig. 13). In these books the illustrations of the Danse were radically reduced in size, the verses were used sporadically and almost always partially and the hierarchical order of figures that was so crucial in the earlier versions of the theme was not always followed. In the printed Books of Hours, the Danse was given an emblematic and ornamental role – its purpose was not narrative, but symbolic. Such images aided the believers in recalling the figure of Death, but not necessarily dwell on didactic or humorous elements of the Danse that marked more traditional renditions of the theme. Nevertheless, the fact that the Danse was featured in 26 Ibid. 163. 27 Ibid. 163. 28 On this issue see especially W olff, ed. Kings, Queens and Courtiers; Ina Nettekoven, Der Meister der Apokalypsenrose der Sainte Chappelle und die Pariser Buchkunst um 1500, Ars Nova 9 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004) and Katherine Eve Baker, “Painting and the Luxury Arts in Paris, 1490-1515: Objects and their Urban Contexts,” diss., U of Virginia, 2013. 14 numerous printed Books of Hours meant that the woodcuts were given an even higher prominence since the printed prayer books were so popular and sold widely not just in France but elsewhere in Europe. 29 In contrast to the previous attempts at analyzing the Danse macabre printed books, which typically focused on one particular edition, my dissertation examines the series as a whole while also emphasizing their range and differences. 30 Although the Dance of Death was taken up as a theme in illustrated books published in Germany, such as the Totendanz (or Der doten dantz) editions printed in Heidelberg by Heinrich Knoblochtzer in 1488-89, Des dodes dantz published in Lübeck by Hans Ghetelen 1489-96 or the editions printed in Mainz by Jacob Meydenbach between 1491-95, I concentrate on the French examples because the subject was more prevalent in France and the French printers were more prone to experimenting with the theme. 31 The books were especially popular and often published in the period between 1485 and c. 1530s, hence the time frame of my dissertation. However, it is important to note that the books were still printed after the 1530s, though much more sporadically and there were even editions of the Danse that were published as part 29 See Virginia Reinburg, French Books of Hours: Making an Archive of Prayer, c. 1400-1600 (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2012). 30 Only Marchant’s first edition has been studied in detail, see J. J. Champollion- Figeac, Notice d’une edition de la Danse Macabre, antéerieure à celle de 1486 et inconnue aux bibliographes (Paris: De l’imprimerie de J.B. Sajou, 1811); La Danse Macabre de 1485 reproduite l’exemplaire unique de la Bibliothèque de Grenoble et publiée sous l’egide de la Société des Bibliophiles Dauphinois, ed. Pierre Vaillant (Grenoble: Editions de 4 Seigneurs, 1969); David A. Fein’s two articles, “Guyot Marchant’s Danse Macabre, cited above in note 8, and “Text and Image Mirror Play in Guyot Marchant’s 1485 Danse macabre” Neophilologus 98. 2 (2014): 225-239. The article by Jane H. M. Taylor considers aspects of Marchant’s 1486 edition of the women’s Danse, though she does not discuss the book as a whole, see: Jane H. M. Taylor, “Un Miroer Salutaire.” 31 The Totendanz books were also published in Münich in the early sixteenth century by printer Johann Schobsser. For a digitalized facsimile of von Ghetelen 1489 edition housed in Nurnberg at the Germanisches Nationalmuseum see: http://dlib.gnm.de/item/4Inc28260/html. Von Ghetelen’s editions have also recently been discussed in the following text: Cordelia Hess, Social Imagery in Middle Low German: Didactical Literature and Metaphorical Representation (1470-1517), Studies in Medieval and Reformation Tradition (Leiden: Brill, 2013). http://dlib.gnm.de/item/4Inc28260/html 15 of the Bibliothèque bleue in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, reflecting the enduring appeal of the theme in France. By focusing on a specific series of illustrated books, especially the one that develops out of an established late medieval pictorial and literary tradition, my study is aligned with recent trends in the scholarship of early printed books. Over the last ten years, there has been a growing interest in the question of translation and adaptation of popular medieval themes into the new medium of illustrated books. For instance, in 2014 Jane H. M. Taylor, a noted scholar of medieval French poetry who also wrote important articles on the Danse macabre genre, published a study on the Arthurian romance in the printed books of the French Renaissance. 32 Although Arthurian romance was one of the most popular literary genres in the Middle Ages, portrayed in countless illuminated manuscripts, the development of the theme in the sixteenth century and especially its adaptation into print have been largely ignored. By focusing on the printers and the publishers who produced the volumes, including Vérard’s hand-painted presentation copies, Taylor explores the differences in editions and the public fascination with the theme. Likewise, R.L. Schoff has studied the shift from manuscript to print of three important late medieval titles, The Canterbury Tales, The Book of Margery Kempe and Piers Plowman, while an edited volume by Anna Lawrence-Mathers and Phillipa Hardman considers the role of women writers in the transition from manuscript to printed books. 33 The benefits of examining a specific series of illustrated books produced in the early years of printing are multiple. By considering books from the same series we can, for example, see how the new medium of illustrated book was changing over a period of time from Marchant’s first edition that included only the woodcuts and verses and no publishing information to an edition printed in 1531 by Nicholas Le Rouge that contained a fully developed title-page with an illustration, a table of 32 Jane H. M. Taylor, Rewriting Arthurian Romance in Renaissance France: From Manuscript to Printed Books (Suffolk: Boydell & Brewer, 2014). 33 R. L. Schoff, Reformations: Three Medieval Authors in Manuscript and Movable Type (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols: 2007) and Anna Lawrence-Mathers and Phillipa Hardman, The Women and Writing, c. 1340-1650: The Domestication of Print Culture (Suffolk: Boydell & Brewer, 2010). 16 contents and the colophon stating the date and the place of publication. A closer look at the different editions in the series also reveals the extant to which the printers were modifying and adding to the genre. Even though all editions I study belong to the Danse macabre series, none of them are exactly the same and it is impossible to speak of a standardized version of the books. This is exactly how the books have been studied thus far in scholarship on macabre art, which continually treats different editions of the Danse as one cohesive unit and dismisses or ignores the inherent differences in layout, content and medium across the extant copies, which is why it is useful to focus on specific editions. Contrary to this approach, my dissertation emphasizes the materiality of the printed editions and considers how the form and medium affected the presentation of the theme. As David Areford recently argued, early printed images are unique objects. 34 Early woodcuts are inherently hybrid – “printed multiples, yet also handcrafted originals designed to simulate other media like manuscript illumination, colored drawings and woven textiles through the use of colored pigments, metal leaf, and quartz crystals.” 35 Even though Areford’s study discusses predominately free standing early printed images, his argument that “materiality reinforces [the] singularity” of early woodcuts is also applicable to the fifteenth century illustrated books. 36 Vérard’s vellum copies, for example, were designed to simulate illuminated manuscripts, while his edition from c.1491 was printed on carton in a form of a placard intended to be displayed on a wall mimicking paintings or tapestries. Such differences in format and medium, complicate the assumption that every edition merely replicates the other – or that the printed books are essentially inadequate copies of the mural from the Innocents – and in turn suggest that each edition should be studied independently. Studies of early printed images have long been shaped by W alter Benjamin’s influential essay “The W ork of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” first 34 See David S. Areford, The Viewer and the Printed Image in Late Medieval Europe (Burlington: Ashgate, 2010). 35 Ibid. 14. 36 Ibid. 14. 17 published in Germany in 1936. 37 In the essay, Benjamin argues that the process of mechanical reproduction eliminated the “aura” or the authenticity from the work of art, which he believed is found in handmade objects. Benjamin’s point of departure was the fifteenth century and the early woodcuts, which, because they were reproduced mechanically and distributed widely, could not be seen as unique or original. His assumptions about the “aura” of early woodcuts have been challenged frequently, most recently by Areford whose study on the materiality of early woodcuts is in many ways positioned in opposition to the arguments outlined in Benjamin’s text. 38 The majority of recent scholarship on early printed images has veered towards the examination of their specificities and unique qualities – whether it is a discussion of the application and meaning of color, forms of display and circulation or a consideration of the audience and, especially, the viewer’s response towards and the handling of the printed works. 39 Ultimately, my dissertation addresses a lack in the studies on macabre art that tend to focus, almost exclusively, on monumental mural examples at the expense of the later printed volumes. W hile in the past, the translation of the genre from a large fresco painting located in the heart of medieval Paris into a series of illustrated books has been seen as a form of regression, especially where representation of the theme is concerned, my study suggests that it is possible to consider the series in more productive terms. In particular, the printed image of the Danse helped to diffuse the genre and place it in multiple and varied contexts, from 37 W alter Benjamin, “The W ork of Art in the Age of Mechanical Reproduction,” Illuminations, ed. Hannah Arendt, trans. Harry Zohn (New York: Random House, 1968) 217-251. 38 Areford 10. For opposing views in relation to Benjmain’s comments about the early printed image see also Jeffery F. Hamburger, “’In gebeden vnd in bilden geschriben’ Prints as Exemplars of Piety and the Culture of the Copy in Fifteen- Century Germany,” Woodcut in Fifteenth-Century Europe, ed. Peter Parshall, Studies in the History of Art 75 (W ashington, DC: National Gallery of Art and Yale UP, 2009) 154-189 and Christopher S. W ood, Forgery, Replica, Fiction: Temporalities of German Renaissance Art (Chicago: Chicago UP, 2008). 39 See for example, Susan Dackerman, Painted Prints: The Revelation of Color in Northern Renaissance and Baroque Engravings, Etchings and Woodcuts (Baltimore: The Baltimore Museum of Art and University Park, Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State UP, 2002). 18 prayer books and illuminated manuscripts, to almanacs concerned with medical, astrological and religious lore. Moreover, the process of exchange and collaboration between printers, publishers and artists working in different media foster ed the need for continual experimentation and adaptation of the Danse, which resulted in new and original ways of interpreting the macabre. In particular, the illustrated books should be understood as forming a crucial link between the traditional mural examples and the later reiterations of the theme, particularly Hans Holbein’s printed series Les simulachres et historiees faces de la mort (Pictures of Death) (henceforth the Simulachres). First published in Lyons by the brothers Trechsel in 1538, Holbein’s series is generally regarded, even by scholars of macabre art, as the work that completely reinvented and eventually replaced the medieval image of the Danse. However, I argue that even though Holbein did not base his work on any particular edition of the Danse, the medium of early illustrated books nevertheless allowed for the first conversions of the theme that eventually resulted in Holbein’s radical revision. It is also primarily through the printed books that certain features of the Danse seeped into other sixteenth century pictorial representations including anatomical illustrations and the German Renaissance theme of Death and the Maiden. Layout of Chapters In February of 1499, Mathias Husz printed an important edition of the Danse in Lyons. Often credited with popularizing the genre of illustrated books, Husz was one of the most prolific printers in France, known for publishing at least 150 editions. The 42-leaves version of the Danse published by Husz contained both the men’s and women’s dances as well six additional illustrated texts concerned with themes of death, sin and judgment. Tucked in the middle of the Danse macabre of men section of Husz’s volume is an unusual woodcut that was probably created specifically for this edition (Fig. 10). Split into two scenes, the image portrays Death visiting the printing workshop and the bookstore and taking away the printers and the 19 bookseller. Since these figures were not included in earlier versions of the Danse macabre, either painted or printed, Husz had to hire an artist to design the woodcut and a writer to compose the accompanying verses, which are featured below the image on the same folio. Generally regarded as the earliest representation of the interior of a printing workshop, Husz’s woodcut has been discussed in many studies on the history of early printing, yet it has received little attention from scholars of macabre art. Because Husz’s image is simultaneously about the process of printing and about the new way of picturing death, I use it in my dissertation as a platform through which the main points of each chapter are set up. The second chapter, “Death in Print: The Danse macabre and the Medium of Illustrated Books,” discusses the Dance of Death theme and the issues raised by the existing printed editions. In particular, I analyze the intricate setting of the Danse fresco from the Cemetery of the Innocents and question the process of adaptation of this image into a series of illustrated books, which I suggest is more complex than previously assumed. The third chapter considers the Danse in relation to the beginning of printing in France and discusses the collaborative processes and the willingness to experiment with the medium and the genre that marked Guy Marchant’s segue into the world of illustrated books. To some extent, Marchant is the inventor of the series in the new medium, having printed the first edition and published the original Danse macabre des femmes books, yet his career is in many ways quite unusual. As Sandra Hindman has shown, Marchant’s career did not revolve around the production of illustrated texts – his business was centered on publishing religious and humanist tracts aimed at the teachers and students of the College of Navarre, one of the schools that belong to the University of Paris. 40 Despite this, however, Marchant created two of the most successful illustrated series, the Danse and the Shepherd’s Calendar. The latter was particularly well-regarded and often reprinted with editions being published throughout the course of the sixteenth century. Part of 40 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant ” 72. 20 Marchant’s achievements with regards to the illustrated editions was prompted by his ability to interpret the trends in the market and publish titles accordingly, but he was also benefiting from partnership and exchange with other printers, publishers and booksellers. Ultimately, the chapter highlights the fickle and transitional nature of the early printing industry and discusses the Danse books in relation to other illustrated texts produced at the time. The fourth chapter, “La danse macabre nouvelle: W omen, Fools and the Agency of the Printer,” discusses two of the most innovative ways the printers adapted the Danse, namely the publication of the women’s series and the inclusion of the Fool in the roster of figures. Both new features were first introduced in the editions published by Marchant and he assembled them from the literature of the period. As I outline in the chapter, the poem of the Danse macabre des femmes (but not the images) was probably written in the early 1480s and appeared in several manuscripts that predate Marchant’s printed editions. Likewise, the interest in combining the themes of death and folly surfaced in the scribal culture of the late fifteenth century and was also taken up in the popular prints in Northern Europe. In addition, French allegorical poems such as the Dance aux aveugles (The Dance of the Blind), written c.1465 and the Mors de la Pomme (The Bite the Apple) from c.1470s as well as poems written by François Villon or Olivier de la Marche, already evoked the figure of Death and the macabre sentiment in important and innovative ways. At the same time, the society in the late fifteenth-century France was undergoing radical transformation and the fascination with class and hierarchies permeated popular theatre as much as the illustrated book like the Danse that catered to the public demand for representation (and ridicule!) of particular social types. Relying on the existing interest in literature by and about women and the new found fascination with the theme of folly, Marchant modernized the Danse by publishing editions which featured these themes. In discussing the Danse macabre des femmes edition, the chapter highlights Marchant’s editorial strategy and argues that it was the printer’s intervention with the theme and his choice of content that supplied the narrative for the work and structured the viewer’s experience of it. 21 The fifth chapter, “The Salutary Mirror: Editing and Viewing the Illustrated Book,” analyzes different editions of the Danse, most notably those published by Husz and Vérard, and argues that the editorial input of the printers was crucial not just in choosing the content, but also in selecting the format and materials out of which the books were fashioned. Although these editions belong to the same series, each book is unique and represents a particular way of representing the Danse. That the readers, in turn, responded to the books diversely is also evident from the way they manipulated the books by adding commentary, drawing on costumes or in the margins and even cutting away the faces of the dead in an attempt to manipulate or react to the images. These “acts of viewing” suggests, as Areford has argued, that the interaction between the early printed image and the beholder is never passive, a point I highlight in the chapter by focusing on specific examples. 41 Taken as a whole, my dissertation aims to emphasize the pivotal role of the Danse macabre illustrated books in the history of the genre. At the same time, as my study shows, the books are not solely about the Danse but actually reference the late fifteenth-century interests in apocalyptic, allegorical, scientific and satirical discourses. The volumes exemplify the exciting and innovative industry of early printing and demonstrate how the new medium adapted and converted the traditional themes and forms of medieval art. W hile relying on an established tradion of macabre art in a medium that was still novel, printers ultimately offered new ways of picturing death through processes of experimentation and collaboration. 41 Areford 15. 22 CHAPTER TWO Death in Print: The Danse macabre and the Medium of Illustrated Books The Printing Workshop and the Bookstore – New Spaces of Death On February 18, 1499/1500, the German born printer Mathias Husz published an important edition of the Danse macabre (Dance of Death) book in Lyons. 42 Titled La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes hystoriee y augmentee de beaux dis en latin, the book was printed in folio format and included the Dance of Death of men and women and seven additional illustrated texts dealing with the subject of death, dying, and the Last Judgment. 43 Husz’s edition is the most comprehensive version of the popular title printed in the fifteenth century since it includes two different woodcut versions of the Dance of Death of men, the greatest number of additional titles and two original images likely created specifically for this book. One of them, printed on folio b 1 , is part of the Danse macabre des homes cycle and portrays the striking image of Death visiting the printing workshop and the bookstore (Fig. 10) (henceforth the Printers). Smiling at us, the viewers, and awkwardly tiptoeing on their scrawny feet, the three cadavers are shown taking away the Printers and the Bookseller from their places of work. The living (or more precisely, the dying), though showing signs of resistance are helpless against their horrid attackers; as the dead tell the printers: Mourir vous fault certainement. Since neither the Printers nor the Bookseller have been included in previous renditions of the Danse macabre, the image is almost certainly Husz’s own 42 Only two extant copies of the edition survive, one is preserved in London at the British Library (IB. 41735) and the other is in Princeton at the Scheide Library (35.4.6). 43 All titles and verses from the Danse macabre books are transcribed as they appear in the original documents. I did not add accents and apostrophes or tried to correct the spelling of the words. 23 invention. In order to include the plate in the book and accommodate it into the Danse, Husz had to hire an artist to design it and a writer to compose the verses, which significantly increased the cost of the production. However, Husz’s risk paid off. The woodcut and the verses perfectly capture the theme of the Dance of Death, demonstrating that the printer had not only understood macabre sensibility, but also managed to put his own spin on it. As is the case with the majority of macabre images, the woodcut functions on multiple levels. It is at once satirical and didactic, but also demonstrative of Husz’s entrepreneurial skills and the pride he took in his profession. The image is the first known visual depiction of the interior of an early printing workshop and the printing press and it introduces the viewers to the steps in the process of mechanical reproduction. It could also be construed as a clever advertisement for Husz’s own workshop in Lyons and as such complements the title page and the colophon at the end of the book, which provides the place and the date of publication. By inserting the woodcut with the Printers and the Bookseller into the social hierarchy of the Danse, Husz was also commenting on the increasingly more diversified world of bookmaking in late fifteenth-century France. Although the profession of the bookseller did, of course, exist prior to the advent of printing, the scope of this vocation was changing as printing developed to include the so-called libraire-publisher, an entrepreneur whose venture had a major impact on the transmission of knowledge in this period. On the other hand, as we shall see, printers were newcomers in late medieval society and their inclusion and, especially their placement within the hierarchy of the Danse, is important to consider. Even more significantly, the woodcut is a major adaptation of the Dance of Death and comes on the heels of other changes imposed on the theme by the medium of print. Although Husz’s image is part of the Danse macabre of men, it is not really a traditional representation of the Dance of Death theme. In a more conventional rendering of the subject, such as in the mural at Meslay-le- Grenet, the living and the dead are arranged in a hierarchical procession and are placed in a simple, exterior locale (Figs. 2, 3, 4 and 5). Such setting emphasizes the equalizing power of death, which does not discriminate the rich from the poor or the young from the old, and alludes to the fact that the figures in the procession are all dying at the 24 same time and in the same place. The notion of death as a collective, communal event has been one of the principle trademarks of monumental painted versions of the Danse since the earliest known version painted at the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents in Paris in 1424-25. W hen the Danse macabre illustrated books first appeared in France, in the mid 1480s, the printers emulated the composition by placing all dancing figures in the same exterior setting (Fig. 8). In the context of the printed books, which could not reproduce the long chain of figures in a single image, it was especially important to rely on repetitive elements – the layout, the frame and the background – in order to emulate the sense of continuity in the procession of dancers. Husz had clearly understood this since he placed all other figures in the Danse against an identical background, an outdoors setting embellished with delicate shrubs and foliage, which makes the Printers woodcut on folio b 1 all the more unusual (Figs. 14 and 15). The position of the Printers interrupts the narrative of the Danse, a point especially obvious when the reader is actually leafing through the book (Fig. 10). With eight folios preceding it and nine following it, the woodcut is positioned in the middle of the Dance of Death of men. By the time the reader reaches folio b 1 (Fig. 8), key compositional elements of the narrative have already been est ablished: two pairs of dancers are shown per page, the figures face the viewer and the procession is moving towards the left (Figs. 14 and 15). The figures of the Printers and the Bookseller, however, are placed in specific interior locations and are not promenading or even dancing, at least not in an obvious way (Fig. 8). Rather, they are working. The compositor, a person who sets the type for printing, is featured on the far left. He is not even standing – the image shows him seated at the desk and still picking out type from the cases in front of him. In the center of the printing shop, the puller, the figure that works the press, stands with his back to the viewer (the only figure in the Danse to do so) and is, ironically, being pulled into the dance by the cadaver on the opposite side of the printing press. The fate of the third printer, seen in the background behind the press, is more difficult to gauge, since, 25 uncharacteristically, he is not paired with his own dead partner. 44 He might die, but he might also survive the encounter. Save for the gestures of the cadavers in the workshop and the bookstore, both of whom point to the opposite directions and thus visually link the woodcut with images preceding and following it, nothing else connects the two scenes with the rest of the Danse. How then are we to read Husz’s image? Are the Printers and the Bookseller somehow part of the same procession as the other figures? W ill they die at the same time as their counterparts? If so, why are they in different spaces? Husz’s insistence on the particularity of spaces is perhaps the most interesting aspect of the woodcut. In the late fifteenth century the printing workshop was the most modern of spaces – the technology was brand new and the industry was just developing. Intended as a visual lesson for the beholder, the traditional Dances of Death portray the living protagonists in contemporary or traditional costumes but make no other references to time or space; the Danse, we will recall, typically takes place in an unspecified, exterior locale. 45 Both the text and the image suggest that for the living protagonists the moment of death is fast approaching – indeed, they already hover in the liminal state of being neither dead nor alive – but for the viewer, that moment is located at a more removed, indeterminate time in the 44 In the Danse macabre certain characters are accompanied by other living figures that are not part of macabre procession. Rather, their purpose is either to highlight the sins of the character or portray the nature of their profession. For example, the Usurer is shown with the Poor Man, who is even given some verses, but it is clear from the composition and the text that the Poor Man is not dying. Death does not address him directly and the Poor Man does not touch the cadaver, which is a crucial sign that he will go on living. From 1486, when the printer Guy Marchant, expanded the Dance of Death of men, the printed editions of the Danse commonly included the figure of the Schoolmaster (Teacher) who is shown with his young student. Again, the student, like the Poor Man, does not engage with Death and serves in this woodcut merely as a prop to explain the Schoolmaster’s profession. However, in Husz’s image the third printer is about to strike Death with a pair of inking balls, thus his fate is more uncertain. The inclusion of the third worker shows the overriding desire to display an active workshop and to emphasize the steps in the process of printing: composing the type, inking, printing and, finally, selling. 45 The exceptions to this are two paintings, one in Lübeck and the other in Tallinn (Estonia), both painted by Bernt Notke, which featured an elaborate townscape in the background. For a discussion of the two images and their Hanseatic settings, see Elina Gertsman, The Dance of Death, especially chapter 4. 26 future. But, not in Husz’s image. By placing the dead in the modern space of the printing workshop, Husz “historicizes” Death and brings it “into the here and now of the beholder.” 46 Moreover, the particularized setting of the woodcut isolates the Printers and the Bookseller from the rest of the procession and emphasizes their solitude at the face of Death – a notion that the late medieval audience accustomed to images of dying accompanied by relatives, clerics and even spiritual beings, would have found especially troubling. After all, as Joseph Leo Koerner explains, in relation to another early sixteenth century macabre print, “there is a kind of comfort in the crowds, even if the crowds are damned”; yet Husz explicitly denies the Printers and the Bookseller a chance to die along with the multitude of humanity. 47 The existence of Husz’s woodcut complicates our understanding of how the theme of the Dance of Death and macabre art in general functioned at the end of the Middle Ages. Scholars have tended to interpret the Danse macabre illustrated books mainly as replications of earlier fresco examples and recognized elements of innovation or originality only in the works published later in the sixteenth centur y by artists such as Hans Holbein, whose printed series Les simulachres et historiees faces de la mort, first published in Lyons in 1538, is a significant departure from the medieval macabre model (henceforth the Simulachres). In Holbein’s series, which shows men and women, every person encounters death in a setting specific to the status of the individual and the accompanying text, taken from the Bible, is not directly related to the images (Figs. 16 and 17). However, positioned right at the turn of the century, which modern scholars have come to see as a turn of historical periods, Husz’s image demonstrates that aspects of macabre art had not only transitioned into the early modern era, but also that the medium of print had begun to revise the theme in crucial ways long before Holbein. Through the portrayal of new figures in modern spaces in the Printers, its rupture of the traditional 46 Joseph Leo Koerner, The Moment of Self-Portraiture in German Renaissance Art (Chicago: Chicago UP, 1993) 288. Although Koerner’s comments relate to his analysis of a single-sheet print of Death Overtaking a Knight made by Hans Baldung Grien in 1510-11, and not to Husz’s image or even to Dances of Death specifically, I found his approach to thinking about representations of Death in printed images to be the most productive. 47 Ibid. 290. 27 composition of the Danse and its intense interest in self-fashioning, the woodcut revises earlier approaches to the Danse (Fig.8). It also anticipates changes that will develop with regards to the theme in later periods. Just as the dead confront the living in the Danse, in Husz’s Printers, macabre art confronts the medium of print and the two are folded together in a new and interesting way. This confrontation is the principal subject of my study. The Danse macabre mural and the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents By the time Husz printed his edition of the Danse in 1499, the title was already a bestseller in France. At least twelve editions predate Husz’s – an impressive number for this type of publication in the early years of printing. The first known edition was published in Paris on September 28, 1485 by the printer Guy (Guyot) Marchant. 48 Published in folio format, the book included only the Dance of Death of men and its text and image were modeled after the famous Danse macabre mural from the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents in Paris painted in 1424-25. Likely the earliest painted rendition of the Dance of Death, the mural inspired other examples in fresco most notably a Danse painted in the cloister of St Paul’s in London (1430) at Kernascleden in Brittany (1440-60), in the Benedictine Abbey of La Chaise Dieu (c.1470) and at Kermaria-an-Isquit in Brittany (c.1490). The two other French murals, one at Meslay-le-Grenet and the other at La Ferte-Loupière (c. 1500) were modeled after the printed books and therefore indirectly also inspired by the fresco from the Innocents. 49 Despite its popularity in the late medieval period, 48 The only extant copy of the first edition is preserved in Grenoble at the Bibliothèque municipale as I. 327 Rés; the complete scanned edition can be seen at http://pagella.bm-grenoble.fr/img- viewer/I/I327/viewer.html?base=BMG&np=I327_01.jpg&ns=I327_01.jpgFor sources discussing with Marchant’s first edition see Introduction, footnote 23. 49 The Dance of Death painted in London was demolished in 1549, for recent discussion of this painting see: Amy Appleford, “The Dance of Death in London: John Carpenter, John Lydgate, and the Daunce of Poulys,” Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 38.2 (2008) 28 however, the mural was destroyed, probably in 1669, during the reign of Louis XVI, when the wall on which it was painted was knocked down in order to widen the neighboring street. 50 Marchant’s first edition is therefore the only visual document that suggests what the mural may have looked like. According to the contemporary accounts, the Danse macabre fresco was a striking image. 51 Stretching over twenty meters across the interior cloister wall of the Cemetery, it featured thirty male figures arranged according to their station in late medieval ecclesiastical and secular hierarchy. 52 The cast included: the Pope and the Emperor, the Cardinal and the King, the Patriarch and the Constable, the Archbishop and the Knight, the Bishop and the Squire, the Abbot and the Bailiff, the Astrologer and the Burgher, the Canon and the Merchant, the Carthusian and the Sergeant, the Monk and the Usurer with the Poor Man, the Doctor and the Lover, the Lawyer and the Minstrel, the Priest and the Peasant, the Franciscan and the Child, 285-314; Sophie Oosterwijk, “‘Fro Paris to Inglond’? The danse macabre in text and image in late-medieval England,” diss., U of Leiden, 2009; and Ashby Kinch, Imago Mortis. 50 It was the widening of the rue de la Ferronnerie, which caused the demolition, though scholars still debate as to whether this happened in 1669 or some decades earlier. 51 The making of the mural was recorded by an anonymous chronicler who wrote A Parisian Journal, a book of memoirs. As it states: “In this year 1424 the Danse Macabré was made at the Innocents. It was began about August and finished in the following Lent.” See: A Parisian Journal 1405-1449, trans. Janet Shirley (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1968) 204. 52 The bibliography on the Dance of Death and macabre art is extensive and cannot be listed here in its entirety. Besides works already cited, the following sources are useful in studying the French examples: Clark, The Dance of Death; André Corvisier, Les danses macabres (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 1998); Reinhold Hammerstein, Tanz und Musik des Todes. Die mittelalterlichen Totentänze und ihr Nachleben (Bern: Francke, 1980); Georges Kastner, Les danses des morts (Paris: Brandus, 1852); Kürtz, The Dance of Death and the Macabre Spirit; Eustache- Hyacinthe Langlois, Essai historique, philosophique et pittoresque sur les danses des morts, Ouvrage complété et publié par m. André Pottier et m. Alfred Baudry, 2 vols. (Rouen: A Lebrument, 1852); Gabriel Peignot, Recherches historiques et littéraires sur les danses des morts et sur l’origine des cartes a jouer (Dijon and Paris: Victor Lagier, 1826); Saugnieux, Les danses macabres de France; Alberto Tenenti, Il senso della morte e l’amore della vita nel Rinascimento (Francia e Italia) (Turin: G. Einaudi, 1957); and Hélène and Bertrand Utzinger, Itinéraires des danses macabres. 29 and the Cleric and the Hermit; each living figure was paired with his own Death, portrayed as decomposing and grimacing cadavers. The procession of the living and the dead was framed on either side by the Author, a preacher-like figure who delivers the prologue and the epilogue and thus functions as a narrator and not a participator in the Dance of Death. As in the mural at the Meslay-le Grenet, the figure of the Author at the Innocents was likely shown sitting at a desk in the opening section of the Danse and facing the prostrated body of the Dead King at the closing portion of the fresco (Figs. 18 and 19). The mural was accompanied by verses written in vernacular, which were placed below each dancing pair and added to the dramatic impact of the pictorial composition. Emphasizing his role of the preacher, the verses of the Author are written as a sermon or homily and address not so much the figures in the Danse, as the beholder who is the ultimate recipient of the visual lesson. In the prologue, the Author discusses the image as a “doctrine notable,” and suggests that it should be used as a tool for meditating on death and salvation: O creature roysonnable Qui desires vie eternelle. Tu as cy doctrine notable: Pour bien finer vie mortelle. La dance macabre sappele: Que chascun a danser apprant. A homme et femme est naturelle. Mort nespargne petit ne grant By addressing the reader specifically (O creature roysonnable), the verses highlight one of the central characteristics of macabre art, namely that both the image and the text implicate the viewer directly. As such, the composition plays out not only on a binary level, emphasizing antithesis between the living and the dead, but on ternary one as well, implicating the “third-party viewer directly,” as Paul Binski 30 explains the dynamic. 53 The image is a warning, an admonition directed primarily at the viewers who could be, and at one point in the future certainly will be, summoned into the dance. The dialogue section of the text consists of sixty-two strophes, or roughly 540 lines of text, composed as a lively altercation between the living and the dead in which the cadavers ‘invite’ the living into the dance, while the latter refuse, resist or plead to no avail. 54 Occasionally, the living figures seem more accepting of death: the Peasant explains that he often longed for death (La mort ay souhaite souvent) but would now shun it away (Mais volentier ie la fuisse), while the Hermit embraces death and prays to God to erase his sins (Or requer dieu qun don me face / Cest que tous mes pechies efface). The verses are heavily peppered with humor and satire and the dead frequently mock the living, especially those belonging to the upper echelons of society: the Emperor for his reliance on accouterments of earthly power (Armes: ceptre: timbre: baniere), the Abbot for being plump (Les plus gras est premier pourry). At the same time, however, even here the dialogue does not take place merely between the living and the dead, but also between the protagonists and the spectator. For example, the cadaver who takes away the Pope directs his opening lines to the reader: “Vous qui vivez (You who are alive), while the Abbot also warns the reader Vous qui vivez au demorant (You who are alive right now). 55 In many painted and printed versions, the dead gaze at the viewer, further emphasizing the link between the composition and its beholder and implicating the viewer directly with the drama that is unfolding. This must have been especially effective in the context of the murals, which were typically placed in public spaces of churches or cemeteries and thus benefited from a varied audience including a number of illiterate individuals who could not read the verses, but could probably understand the implication of the striking gaze of the figures of Death. 53 Paul Binski, Medieval Death: Ritual and Representation (Ithaca, New York: Cornell UP, 1996) 138. 54 For a close reading of the humor and satire in the verses see: Jane H. M. Taylor, “The Danse macabre: Reflections on black humor,” Comparative Criticism: Comedy, Irony, Parody, ed. E. S. Shaffer (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989) 139-58. 55 Sophie Oosterwijk, “Dance, Dialogue and Duality” 21. 31 The mural was painted during the English occupation of Paris and a particularly tumultuous period of French history known as the Dual Monarchy (1422- 1435), when France had two kings, the Dauphin (future king Charles VII) and young Henry VI. 56 The ramification of this political situation on the composition and the text of the mural, have, surprisingly, only recently been studied in more detail. 57 In her reading of the mural, Sophie Oosterwijk has noted the conspicuous absence of the figure of the Duke, a major title among the late medieval French courtiers. 58 Despite the careful hierarchical ordering of the French Danse, at least in the first half of the poem, the line of lay characters jumps from King via Constable to Knight, skipping the Duke entirely. This omission, as Oosterwijk notes, is not surprising given the fact that in this period many French and some English dukes were engaged in a viscious political battle over the control of the French throne and a reference to a duke in the image would have been a dicey move. Since the early fifteenth century, the dukes of France, most notably those from the houses of Orleans and Burgundy, were involved in a bloody princely war marked by a series of assassinations and counter- assassinations which have divided the country and prompted the establishment of the Dual Monarchy in the first place. In 1425, when the mural was completed, the Duke of Bedford (1389-1435), acting as a regent for Henry VI who was then still a 56 This fascinating period of Franco-English history has only recently been studied in detail. For particularly interesting accounts of civic spectacles organized in Paris and London see: Lawrence Bryant, The King and the City in the Parisian Royal Entry Ceremony: Politics, Ritual and Art in the Renaissance (Geneva: Droz, 1986) and Robert Epstein, “Eating Their W ords: Food and Text in the Coronation Banquet of Henry VI, Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 36.2 (2006): 355-377. 57 For studies dealing specifically with the historical context of the mural from the Innocents see: Valentin Dufour, Recherches sur la Danse Macabre peinte en 1425 au cimetière des Innocents (Paris: Bureaux de Bibliophile Francias, 1873); Maja Dujakovic, “The Dance of Death, the Dance of Life: Cemetery of the Innocents and the Danse Macabre,” Out of the Stream: Studies in Medieval and Renaissance Mural Painting, eds. Luís Urbano Afonso and Vítor Serrão (Newcastle: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2007) 206-232; Sophie Oosterwijk, “Of Dead Kings, Dukes and Constables: The Historical Context of the Danse Macabre in Late Medieval Paris, Journal of the British Archaeological Association 161 (2008):131-62 and Ashby Kinch, Imago Mortis. 58 Oosterwijk, “Of Dead Kings ”145. The Duke appears in Marchant’s 1486 augmented edition. 32 child, was de facto ruler in Paris and though he formed an alliance with the Duke of Burgundy, Philip the Good (1396-1467), they did not necessarily share the same political aspirations and were at that time in a stand-off. Although more research is needed, it is possible, especially given his predilection for the theme of the Dance of Death and the fact that the mural was painted in the area of the city that was under Burgundian rule, that Philip in fact commissioned the mural – another reason to omit the figure of the duke from the image. 59 The less than flattering portrayal of clerics in the image reflects the deeply seated problems the W estern Church had faced throughout the fifteenth century. The mural was painted soon after the Council of Constance (1414-1418), which, in theory at least, put an end to the Great Schism, though issues addressed or seemingly resolved at the Council still lingered on. The move of the papacy from Rome to Avignon in 1309 had resulted in an embarrassing situation in which rival antipopes ruled the divided Christian nation from Rome and Avignon respectively. This was made even more problematic in 1409 with the election of Alexander V as the third antipope at the Council of Pisa, a solution that failed when his counterparts from Rome and Avignon refused to abdicate. The simultaneous existence of three popes had severely undermined the authority of the papacy – a situation that was not resolved until 1417 with the election of Martin V who refused the seat in Avignon and settled the papacy in Rome, where he arrived in 1420. As Oosterwijk explains some of the resonance of the recent papal disgrace can be construed from the verses: “[t]he invitation by the mort to the pope to start the dance, ‘comme le plus 59 Oosterwijk, “Fro Paris to Inglond” especially chapter 3. No records have been found regarding the patron or the artist for the Danse macabre mural. It is, however, possible that the Duke of Burgundy had a hand in the making of the mural because he seems to have taken a special interest in the Dance of Death theme. For example, the Duke was the original owner of the manuscript with the transcribed verses from the Innocents now preserved at the BN. In addition, it was at his court that a theatrical performance of the Danse took place in 1449 and the mural was located near Philip’s hotel in Paris in an area of the city regarded as the Burgundian territory. Moreover, the Duke’s libraire, Guillebert de Metz, mentions the mural specifically in his account of Paris. He certainly had the means to commission the large painting and, in the early period of the Dual Monarchy, the Duke of Burgundy aligned fairly closely with the Duke of Bedford, Henry VI’s regent in Paris. 33 digne seigneur’ is tinged with irony if one considers his papal dignity and the church’s stance on dancing. This impression is strengthened when the pope proceeds to describe himself as God on earth, “qui suis dieu en terre/Jay eu dignite souverainne/En leglise comme saint pierre” – biting satire, the topical cause of which is not often recognized. 60 The political and social readings of the mural in the works by Oosterwijk, Ashby Kinch and others, have pointed out an important aspect of the Danse that is worth reiterating here. Earlier studies almost unanimously linked the development of macabre art with larger historical developments – most notably the emergence of the plague in the middle of the fourteenth century and its recurring epidemics, the Great Famine (1315-1317) and the Hundred Years W ar (1337-1453) – all of which increased mortality rates and triggered the predilection for morose subjects in art and literature. 61 In this view, the Dance of Death is typically interpreted, according to Amy Appleford, “as a timeless and universal articulation of the human submission to the reality of death.” 62 However, a careful historical reading of circumstances surrounding individual examples of the Dance reveals how topical and local many renditions really were. 63 It also points out, as I will discuss shortly, the potential for polyvalent readings of most Dances of Death – a fact that made the Danse particularly open to adaptations. The dramatic impact of the mural was certainly not lost on its contemporaries. Just three years after the completion of the artwork, in April of 1429, when Paris was still under occupation, the mendicant preacher, Friar Richard, chose the mural as a 60 Oosterwijk, “Of Dead Kings” 150. 61 On causes of macabre art see: Johan Huizinga, The Autumn of the Middle Ages, trans. Rodney J. Payton and Urlich Mammitzsch (Chicago: Chicago UP; 1996); Danièle Alexandre –Bidon, La mort au Moyen Age: XIIIe-XVIe siècle (Pairs: Hachette, 1998); Philipe Ariès, L’homme devant la mort (Paris: Seuil, 1977); T.S. Boase, Death in the Middle Ages: Mortality, Judgment and Remembrance (New York: McGraw-Hill, 1972); and Binski. 62 Appleford 308. 63 Ibid 308. Appleford makes this argument in relation to the Dance of Death from London painted in 1430 and based on the model from the Innocents – but the same can be said about the Paris fresco. Given the complexity of the political situation in France in the 1420s, a large mural placed in the center of Paris which depicted a hierarchical portrayal of different social ranks must have had political dimensions. 34 backdrop for a series of apocalyptic sermons he delivered at the Cemetery. As the anonymous author of the Parisan Journal, a book of memories from that period, explains, Friar Richard preached at the Innocents every day for over a week, each sermon lasting for hours: He would begin to preach at about five o’clock in the morning and go on till between ten or eleven o’clock and there were always five of six thousand people listening to him. He preached from a high platform – it was nearly half toises high – with his back to the charnel houses opposite the Charronnerie near the Danse Macabré. […] Indeed, when they came away from the sermon that day, the people of Paris were so moved and so stirred up to devotion that in less than three or four hours’ time you would have seen over a hundred fires alight in which men were burning chess and backgammon boards, dice, cards, balls, and sticks, mirelis, and every kind of covetous game that can give rise to anger and swearing. The women, too, this day and the next, burned in public all their fine headgear, the rolls and stuffing, the pieces of leather or whalebone that they used to stiffen their headdress or make them fold forwards. Noblewomen left off their horns, their trains, and many of their vanities. Indeed, the ten sermons he preached in Paris and one at Boulogne did more to turn people towards piety than all the preachers who had preached in Paris for the past hundred years. 64 Friar Richard chose the spot for his sermon wisely – not only did the mural portray the transience of earthly life and the leveling power of death, but the Cemetery itself, with its ossuaries overflowing with bones of the dec eased eerily reflected and confirmed those very points. The Innocents was an ideal location for Friar Richard’s sermons for other reasons as well. Used as a necropolis since the Merovingian era, the Cemetery lay at the heart of medieval Paris. The parish church of Les Innocents was located in a key spot on the rue Saint-Denis, the main road that lead from the Porte Saint-Denis to the north; the Cemetery, on the other hand, occupied the space 64 A Parisian Journal, 230-231. 35 along the rue de la Ferronnerie close to the city’s main marketplace of Les Halles. 65 While it was officially under control of the Hôtel-Dieu, the Hospital of Sainte- Catherine, and the chapter of Saint-Germain-l’Auxerrois, it was seen as a “common resource.” 66 Long venerated for its special soil known as the flesh-eater (mange- chair) – it allegedly had the ability to de-flesh a body in about nine days, a quality much admired in late medieval culture that feared the state of in-between the most – the Cemetery was a popular burial ground. 67 Because of its central location, it was also a gathering place for many city dwellers – scribes and notaries, for example, gathered there, especially in the later periods, and conducted their business on the tomb slabs. 68 The Innocents was also a known meeting place for prostitutes and vagabonds, as well as merchants and produce sellers who spilled into the ground of the Cemetery from the neighboring marketplace. 69 A painting by an anonymous Flemish artist created c. 1570, gives a sense of the layout and the appearance of this popular Paris burial ground (Fig. 20). W hile the Church of the Innocents is seen in the background, the foreground is occupied by the large churchyard. Galleries with ossuaries are visible on either side of the painting and in the background near the Church. It is even possible to see parts of the Danse macabre mural behind the arcades on the back wall of the south gallery, shown on the right. According to a document dated 1663, just a few years before the demolition of the wall on which the mural was painted, the fresco occupied ten or eleven bays of the south gallery. 70 Although the mural showed a continuous 65 Oosterwijk, “Fro Paris to Inglond,” 59. 66 Vanessa Harding, The Dead and the Living in Paris and London 1500-1670 (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2002) 101. 67 On medieval cultural beliefs regarding the dead, see Jean-Claude Schmitt, Ghosts in the Middle Ages: The Living and the Dead in Medieval Society, trans. Teresa Lavender Fagan (Chicago and London: Chicago UP, 1998). 68 For a discussion of scribes and notaries that gathered at the Cemetery, see: Christine Métayer, Au tombeau des secrets: les écrivains publics du Paris populaire, Cimetière des Saints-Innocents, XVIe-VIIIe siècle (Paris: Albin Michel, 2000). 69 On the issue of prostitutes at the Innocents see Bronislaw Geremek, The Margins of Society in Late Medieval Paris, trans. Jean Birrell (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1987). 70 Oosterwijk, “Fro Paris to Inglond,” 61. This comes from an anonymous source, the so-called Epitaphier de vieux Paris. 36 procession of figures with the poem written underneath, one stanza for each dancer, the setting of the mural as portrayed in this painting raises issues with regards t o how the image was viewed. The figures in the fresco were almost life-size, which meant that the viewer had to step back in front of the arcades and maybe even further towards the center of the churchyard, in order to see the complete procession. From that vantage point, however, the beholder could not read the verses and the viewing of the text and the image would require a constant movement back and forth, away and towards the mural. The performative aspect of viewing the Dance of Death – the way the unusual composition requires bodily movement (a dance of sorts) on the part of the viewer – has recently been studied by Elina Gertsman who shows how the fresco would have engaged its audience. 71 For my purposes, however, another point is worth mentioning. Since the mural was painted on the wall behind the arcades, the columns, which are clearly visible in the Flemish painting of the Cemetery, would have obstructed the view of the continuous procession by framing pairs or groups of figures, even if the viewers were standing far enough away to be able to take in the full composition (Fig. 20). 72 As we will see, one of the main criticisms of Marchant’s adaptation of the mural into the illustrated book had to do with the limitations of the print medium which could not reproduce a long chain of figures in a single image. Insead, he broke down the procession into two pairs per page, a move that, according to most scholars, severely reduced the impact of the original fresco. However, as the setting of the mural clearly 71 Gertsman, Dance of Death, especially chapter 3. 72 In her study of the mural, Oosterwijk has pointed out other limitations of the setting. For one, as she explains, the mural was painted on the south wall, in the area of the Cemetery where the sunlight would never directly light up the image. Furthermore, the painting took up only a small fraction of the enormous wall of the Cemetery which, according to the account of Guillebert de Metz, a librarire to both John the Fearless and Philip the Good, the dukes of Burgundy, written in 1436 and entitled Description de Paris, actually featured other devotional wall paintings. As Guillbert writes, the wall of the Innocents portrayed “paintures notables de la dance macabre et autres, avec escriptures pour esmouvoir les gens a devocion,” (remarkable paintings of the Danse Macabre and other subjects, with inscriptions, to entice the people into devotion). The only extant manuscript of Guillbert de Metz’s Description is preserved in the Royal Library in Brussels, see Oosterwijk, “Fro Paris to Inglond”. 37 demonstrates, the possibility of viewing the image in its entirety, especially seeing the figures in an unbroken procession and reading the verses at the same time, would simply not have been possible. 73 Because of its location at the popular cemetery, the painted mural was exposed to an audience much greater and wider than those of early illustrated books. A look at the Flemish painting is helpful in this regard as well. A large funeral is taking place in the center of the composition while, at the same time, other activities are taking place in different areas of the Cemetery: a family of vagabonds is extracting bones from a grave on the left, a dog is defecating in the background and scribes are busy filling documents hunched over a tomb slab near the galleries on the north side. The Cemetery, as we have seen, was the site of Friar Richard’s popular sermons and it was also incorporated in the civic spectacles celebrating the coronation of the young King Henry VI at Notre-Dame in December of 1431. Crowned as the King of both England and France, Henry’s supporters had to orchestrate a poignant procession to convince Parisians that the Dual Monarchy was the right solution – one of the pageants included a deer hunt at the Innocents. Like the mural it housed, the Cemetery itself was a victim of the changing infrastructure of the city. Prompted by the Enlightenment and, especially, concerns over salubrity of the air, the Innocents was deemed too unsanitary and demolished in 1786, just a few years before the French Revolution. 74 The cloistered wall and the Church of the Innocents was knocked down, the charniers (ossuaries) were demolished and the bones were dug up and relocated to the Catacombs of Paris, and the entire lot was cleaned up and remodeled. The site was redecorated with a classical fountain (intended to cleanse the air) and an herb market; it was a dramatic 73 A similar argument with regards to the viewing of frescoes at La Chaise Dieu, Berlin and the Meslay-le-Grenet churches has been made by Gertsman in book on the mural examples of the Dance of Death. The settings for these murals either fragmented the chain of figures or forced the beholder to stand in a specific position in order to view the procession/ See Gertsman, The Dance of Death, especially chapter 5. 74 The best account of the demolition of the Cemetery can be found in Richard A. Etlin, The Architecture of Death: Transformation of the Cemetery in Eighteenth Century Paris (Cambridge, Massachusetts: MIT Press, 1984). 38 end to a famous remnant of a medieval city. The mural, however, did endure, at least to some extent, thorugh the printed editions of the Danse initially made by Marchant. A Case for Printed Books When Guy Marchant adapted the mural from the Innocents in his editio princeps, he effectively preserved the famous artwork for posterity. It is, of course, impossible to know exactly how close the woodcuts copied the mural – and, as I will demonstrate later in the chapter, certain aspects of Marchant’s images that have always been seen as direct references to the mural may not be that at all – but the verses used in the first edition closely resemble those found in two fifteenth-century manuscripts (BN, Ms fr. 25550 and BN, Ms. lat. 14904) that include the transcribed poem from the Innocents, thus we know that the mural did serve as the model. 75 The latter manuscript, dating from the 1420s, includes the Danse macabre poem along with tracts written by two important fifteenth century theologians, Jean Gerson (d. 1429), Chancellor of the University of Paris, and his colleague Nicolas de Clémanges (d. 1434-40), as well as writings of the Dominican Friar Vincent Ferrier (d.1419). Gerson, in particular, was a hugely influential figure in the theological and political life of early fifteenth century France and his devotional tracts remained popular and often printed by early printers, including Marchant. Gerson played a crucial role at the Council of Constance, which not only put an end to the Great Schism but also stressed the importance of devout living among the laity. His 75 Both manuscripts have been part of the library of the Abbey of St. Victor in Paris. Dating from c. 1429, Ms. lat. 14904 includes the sentence “Prout habetur apud Sanctum Innocentem, while Ms. fr. 25550, which is a compendia of several different texts, reads: Dictamina Choreae macabre prout sunt apud innocente[m] Parisii.” Another early manuscript copy on paper (BN, Ms. fr. 14989) created in c. 1428, also includes verses of the Danse macabre poem. As Oosterwijk has shown, this manuscript belonged to Philip the Good, the Duke of Burgundy and contains the anti-dauphinist propaganda poem Division des Orleanois contre les Anglois, another reason to believe that the mural was indeed reflective of the political situation during the Dual Monarchy. See Oosterwijk, “Of Dead Kings.” 39 famous tract, Opusculum tripartitum contained a section entitled De arte moriendi, which likely inspired the texts of the Ars moriendi (Art of Dying) tradition. 76 Because the Danse macabre poem is found in the manuscript that contains tracts by Gerson and de Clémanges and since Gerson’s texts stressed the importance of devout living among the laity, a number of scholars have suggested that the two theologians, or an individual linked with their academic circle, are the likely authors of the verses from the Innocents. 77 In adapting the mural from the Innocents, Marchant, as Emile Mâle has shown, had made some important changes. 78 For one, the costumes of the living protagonists have been updated to match the fashion of the 1480s, a point especially evident in the depiction of the square-toed shoes, as oppose to the pointed shoes, or souliers à la poulaine, which were worn in the first part of the century. In some instances, there is a notable correlation between the woodcuts and the verses: the Emperor holds the globe of the world in his left hand, while the dead tell him to “Laisser fault la pomme dor ronde” (Leave behind the round golden apple); in the pairing of the Archbishop and Death, the latter says “Que vous tires la teste arriere Archevesque” (How you draw back your head Archbishop!); and in the woodcuts the Archbishop does indeed draw his head back. Despite the fact that we do not know for certain what the painting from the Innocents looked like, most scholars assume that these correspondences between the text and the image are derived from the mural and, conversely, that the instances in which the woodcuts stray from the verses are Marchant’s own interpretation or the fault of the medium. In the verses, the Sergeant says: “Je suis pris deca et dela” (I am taken from this side and that), which scholars believe means that in the mural the Sergeant was 76 Binski 40. The Ars moriendi was a late fourteenth and early fifteenth century literary development that is divided roughly into two textual types: the Tractatus artis bene moriendi and the Ars moriendi itself. The latter was disseminated in the vernacular by block book and incunabula editions that contained illustrations. 77 See Clark, Chaney and Oosterwijk. It is not likely that Gerson was the author since at the time the mural was made he was in a voluntary exile from Paris. 78 Emile Mâle, Religious Art in France: The Late Middle Ages. A Study of Medieval Iconography and Its Sources, ed. Harry Bober, trans. Marthiel Mathews (New Jersey: Princeton UP, 1986), especially pages 330-339. 40 accompanied by two dead figures, potentially mimicking an arrest, whereas in the books only one is shown. Because of the nature of the print medium, which could not reproduce the long chain of figures in a single woodcut, Marchant was also forced to depict two figures per page, a point that, according to most writers severely diminished the impact of the original. Moreover, as Oosterwijk has argued: The designer of the woodcuts may have taken further liberties with the poses of the characters, especially at the start or the end of each arcade, for whereas there is usually physical contact between the figures in each arcade there is nothing to link them to those in other arcades. Instead, the dead dancers at the start of each arcade are either turned towards their next victim or are shown holding a large dart or grave-diggers’ attributes, such as a spade and a coffin-lid. 79 The result of Marchant’s design was such that readers concentrated even more on the relationship between the image of each pair and the dialogue below. As mentioned earlier, the setting of the mural may have prevented the viewer from ever really seeing the unbroken chain of dancers, to say nothing of the fact that the composition of the fresco made it impossible to read the verses and see the procession all at once. W hile most authors agree that Marchant’s first edition resembles the original fairly closely and thus see it as a useful tool through which to study the lost image, they are also often critical of the way the medium of the printed books have altered the theme. In a recent study on the Dance of Death murals from Paris and London, for example, Ashby Kinch has described the effects of Marchant’s translation of the theme as a way of radically reducing “the scope and comprehensiveness of the monumental form” (Fig. 8). 80 As Kinch argues: 79 Oosterwijk, “Fro Paris to Inglond ” 65. 80 Kinch, Imago Mortis 265. The same argument was made in an expanded form in Ashby Kinch, “The Danse Macabre and the Medieval Community of Death,” Mediaevalia vol. 23 no. 1 (2002): 159-202. For a link to the electronic facsimile of the first edition, see chapter 1, footnote 4. 41 The public space is replaced pictorially by an inset proscenium frame with bordering pillars and an arch, which presents each woodcut as an independent tableau in a series. This proscenium may be an attempt to recreate in a book format the dramatic context that many scholars believe was the original form of the Danse, but it radically downplays the social meaning of the image. 81 At the same time, it could be argued that the repetitive usage of the frame in the Danse books visually unites the woodcuts and, in turn, allowes the viewer to read each scene as one part of a larger whole. Criticism of Marchant’s first edition is not surprising given the fact that, any form of “adaptation,” to use Linda Hutcheon’s words, “is likely to be greeted as minor and subsidiary and certainly never as good as the ‘original.’” 82 The problem of treating adaptations as adaptations, she argues, is that we think of them as “inherently palimpsestuous works, haunted at all times by their adaptive texts. If we know that prior text, we always feel its presence shadowing the one we are experiencing directly.” 83 In the context of the Danse macabre books, the question of adaptation is especially pronounced since, despite the rapid proliferation of printed editions and the almost immediate need to change and reinterpret the ‘original,’ evidenced by the introduction of new figures, new texts and even an invention of a whole new series of the Danse macabre of women, scholars writing on macabre art continually deny the printed books the status of distinctive works. 84 Moreover, only a handful of texts even discuss the printed books as material objects in their own right – and these are concerned primarily with content and offer little with regard to interpretation or meaning – and why most analysis of the first edition remain, essentially, comparative interested mainly in the issue of proximity to the original 81 Kinch, “The Danse Macabre,” 185. 82 Linda Hutcheon, A Theory of Adaptation (New York and London: Routledge, 2006) xii. 83 Ibid. xii. 84 At the same time, it is intriguing to consider that some buyers of the Danse macabre books, especially those living in Paris, were actually familiar with the mural from the Innocents and took pride in the fact that they owned a copy of it. 42 work. The question of the printed work’s fidelity to the mural is an especially loaded one since it is predicated on an assumption that as an adapter, Marchant, or more precisely the artist who made the woodcuts, simply sought to reproduce the original image. However, as Hutcheon reminds us: Adaptation is repetition, but repetition without replication. And there are manifestly many different possible intentions behind the act of adaptation: the urge to consume and erase the memory of the adapted text or to call it into question is as likely as the desire to pay tribute by copying. … According to its dictionary meaning, “to adapt” is to adjust, to alter, to make suitable. This can be done in any number of ways. 85 Following Hutcheon’s definition of adaptation, my study consciously avoids thinking about the books solely as adaptations, as objects haunted by their models. Instead, I seek to understand them as distinctive works which function in their own time and space. After all, sixty years separate the creation of the mural and the first printed edition and though some devotional and cultural practices that have informed the interest in the Dance of Death theme in the 1420s certainly lingered on, there are other important historical developments, not the least of which is the advent of printing, that are specific to the context in which the books participated. The link to the mural is relevant but there is no precise record making comparisons speculative, and the printed editions of the Danse vary, making it clear that many printers were not intent on replicating the painting precisely. Nor did Marchant make any specific reference to the mural in any of his editons, which he likely would have, were it benefical – a point that will be elaborated later – leaving his intentions about publishing the series open to question. For the purposes of this study, then, it is the propensity of the Danse macabre itself for adaptation that is crucial. Understanding its success and influence is based mainly on its unusual composition, at once general and specific, that attracted the early printers to the theme. The continual process of reinvention and experimentation with the theme and format of the Danse 85 Ibid. 7. 43 – evident in the way printers added new figures, introduced complementary poems or placed the theme in new contexts thereby altering its meaning – is a direct response to trends of the printing industry at the turn of the century. In pursuing this approach to studying printed versions of the Danse, my project aims to advance current studies on macabre art by emphasizing the importance and complexity of this theme in the print medium, while at the same time discussing the role of illustrated books in the early stages of print production in France. Though scholarly interest in the theme of death and dying in the Middle Ages has been fairly consistent ever since Johan Huizinga wrote his influential study, The Autumn of the Middle Ages, in 1919, in recent years the fascination with macabre art has grown noticeably. In the last four years, four important studies have been published in English alone (Gertsman, Oosterwijk and Knöll, Rooney and Kinch) – whereas in the past the majority of publications on macabre art were in German or French – and though these texts offer new and productive ways to think about the Dance of Death and other macabre themes, they do not, for the most part, consider the printed books in any detail. 86 This is all the more surprising given the fact that both Gertsman and Kinch discuss Holbein’s series, Les simulachres, in some detail, yet skip over the French editions almost entirely. The exception is the anthology by Oosterwijk and Knöll, which includes a section on macabre images in print medium, but again does not discuss the French editions specifically. 87 Earlier studies on the Dances of Death, published mainly by German and French scholars (Hammerstein, Kastner, Langlois, Saugnieux, Peginot and Utzinger) consider the printed books in more detail, but since these authors are concerned primarily with tracing the theme of the Danse and cataloguing existing examples, they generally do not address the books in relation to the printing industry nor do they pay much attention to the historical context in which they emerge. 88 Articles written by Jane H.M. Taylor and, more recently David A. Fein, analyze aspects of printed books or 86 Kenneth Rooney, Mortality and Imagination: The Life of the Dead in Medieval English Literature (Turnhout: Brepols, 2011). 87 See Oosterwijk and Knöll, especially the last section titled “The Macabre in Print” 325-405. 88 See footnote 11. 44 focus on a specific edition, and though they raise important questions with regards to how the Danse functioned in a book format, they do not consider the history or early printing in France or analyze the differences in content and format across existing editions. 89 Part of the reason for the neglect of the Danse macabre printed editions, is a result of the fact that they are difficult to categorize. The books can be seen as intemediaries between the fresco rendition of the Danse and Holbein’s adaptations; they are clearly based on the mural from the Innocents and steeped in earlier macabre tradition, but also part of the new medium that was at the time still in the process of becoming. They are produced in-between centuries, and more crucially, in-between two historical epochs and are neither necessarily medieval nor are they distinctly early modern. W hile print specialists recognize them as important examples of early illustrations, the woodcuts in the Danse macabre editions are not as technically advanced as Holbein’s series and not of the same aesthetic value, though this really depends on which edition we are discussing. Antoine Vérard’s lavish hybrid volumes – printed on parchment and hand illuminated – are among the most advanced examples of early woodcuts and visually are quite striking because of the added color and the variation in faces, costumes and, in some instances, backgrounds (Fig. 21). Vérard’s editions possess what Michael Camille has termed a “technicolor flashiness” and thus engage the viewer differently from the more typical, ‘cruder’, black and white woodcuts. 90 At the same time, as Camille also suggests, the unadorned printed images “creates less of a rift between image and text […] precisely because the image has the same black and white structure as the word, and although it is read in space, it is also read in time, following a liner pattern just as in the flow of language.” 91 In the context of the printed books, this point is 89 See, for instance, Jane H.M. Taylor, “Danse Macabré and Bande Dessinée: A Question of Reading,” Forum for Modern Language Studies 25.4 (1989):356-69 and Jane H. M. Taylor, “Un Miroer Salutaire” 29-43. 90 Michael Camille, “Reading the Printed Image: Illuminations and W oodcuts of the Pèlerinage de la vie humaine in the Fifteenth Century,” Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books circa 1450-1520, ed. Sandra L. Hindman (Ithaca and London: Cornell UP, 1991) 259-291, 267. 91 Ibid. 281-283. 45 useful in thinking about the potential positive aspects of the translation of the theme from frescos to books. W e can ask, because the relay “through which the eye must pass to reach the goal is shorter in the print medium” was it easier for the viewer to read the verses and look at the images simultaneously? It must have made reading easier, since printed type, even the early ones that mimicked writing, was more legible especially in comparison to text in fresco paintings which is notoriously prone to fading almost as soon as it is applied. Part of the benefit of studying a series of printed books produced in a transitional period is that we can, as Camille did in relation to Husz’s renditions of the Pilgrimage of the human life (Pèlerinage de la vie humaine), ponder these questions across multiple editions and understand not only how the images are manipulated depending on the format and the materiality of the book itself, but also study how the illustrated book developed as a medium of art over the course of this transition. To understand the impact of the print medium better, we should turn now to a discussion of format and content of printed editions of the Danse. The Danse macabre Illustrated Books: Format and Diffusion While Marchant printed the greatest number of editions – seven in total – the title was also published and adapted by other important figures in the history of early printing in France, including, among others: Antoine Vérard, Pierre La Rouge, Jean Tréperel and Mathias Husz. Between 1485 and c.1503, at least nineteen editions were published in Paris, Lyons, Troyes and Geneva and the title continued to be published through the sixteenth century, though with less frequency. 92 It is very likely that many more editions were published in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, but early printed books were often lost, destroyed or cut up (especially by collectors in later periods), so it is difficult to estimate how many editions were actually produced. The series is best categorized as an illustrated devotional work 92 Two notable late sixteenth century editions include Denis Janot, Paris (1540s) and Pierre de Sainte Lucie (1555). 46 aimed at the general reading public, which in the late fifteenth century still constituted a fairly limited group. 93 It is also an example of incunabula – a term used by book historians to define any type of book, single sheet or broadside that was printed, not handwritten, and produced in Europe before the sixteenth century. 94 Marchant’s first edition is also one of the earliest illustrated books printed in France. As will be elaborated in the third chapter, the very first illustrated book, a French translation of Speculum humanae salvationis was published just five years earlier, in 1478 in Lyons. Printed by Mathias Husz’s cousin, Martin Husz, the book included German woodcuts used previously for editions in Basel and Cologne. In the early years of printing in France it was in Lyons that the majority of vernacular editions were published; the printers in Paris focused mainly on theological and humanist treatises aimed at the university clientele. For this reason, it was not until 1481 that an illustrated book was published in Paris, Jean DuPré’s Missale, and not until 1484, just a year before Marchant’s first edition, that an illustrated book designed by a French woodcutter was published in Paris, also by DuPré. In publishing the Danse, Marchant was therefore at the forefront of a new medium of visual arts and he was a part of an exclusive group of French printers who were developing a specifically French style of illustration. The nineteen known editions of the Danse macabre are incredibly varied in terms of format, content and medium. Some books, most notably those published by Nicole de la Barre and Jean Belot, are printed in quarto format and are small enough 93 On the question of reading practices in late fifteen century see Natalie Zemon Davis, “Printing and the People,” Society and Culture in Early Modern France (Palo Alto: Stanford UP, 1975) 191-226. 94 Bibliography on incunables is vast and can be very technical. For the more recent studies see: Kristian Jensen, ed., Incunabula and their Readers: Printing, Selling and Using Books in the Fifteenth Century (London: British Library, 2003); Martin Davies, ed., Incunabula: Studies in Fifteenth Century Printed Books presented to Lotte Hellinga (London: British Library, 1999), and Bettina W agner and Marcia Reed, eds. Early Printed Books as Material Objects: Proceedings of the conference organized by the IFLA Rare Books and Manuscripts section (Berlin and New York: De Gruter Saur, 2010). W hile useful for cataloguing and organizing early printed works, the term is also problematic because it uses the year 1501 as an arbitrary cut off date, even though there is very little difference between books printed in the l ate 15 th century and those produced in the first decade of the sixteenth century. 47 to fit into a hand, while one edition printed for Vérard by Pierre La Rouge is exceptionally large (56 x 40cm) and was probably initially intended as a placard (Figs. 22 and 23). The majority of editions are printed on paper, though there are exceptions here as well – Vérard’s edition from 1492, the work of printers Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard, is printed on vellum and extensively hand illuminated, while his placard copy mentioned above is printed on carton, a kind of stiff posterboard. 95 One of Marchant’s editions of the Danse macabre des femmes, though printed on paper is also partially hand colored. 96 The series was typically published in French (with some lines of text in Latin), but there is an edition from 1490 printed by Marchant for bookseller Geoffroy de Marnef, which was translated into Latin and as such, as we shall see, reflects the trend in the early printing industry to publish popular titles in multiple languages and thus appeal to a wider audience. Save for Marchant’s first and second edition of the Dance of Death of men, all other Danse macabre books feature at least one additional title and some, like Husz’s, up to seven. 97 The added titles are always illustrated, though not with as many woodcuts as the Danse, and reflect the same devotional concerns including death and mortality, the duality of body and soul, sin and punishment and Judgment and the Apocalypse. The idea to insert additional titles was likely Marchant’s – his editions from June and July of 1486 were the first to include other texts and images – but it is also reflective of the marketing strategies of early printers and the period’s predilection for compendia. W hile most editions use Marchant’s woodcuts for the Dances of Death, in the late fifteenth century two versions of woodcuts of the male dance circulated in France. One was created for Marchant, and the other for Vérard. The latter featured only the thirty male figures from the Innocents and is found in editions published by Vérard, Husz, de la Barre, and Belot. Husz’s edition is 95 Two copies of vellum edition are preserved, one in London at the Lambeth Palace Library (MS. 279) and the other at the BN (Rés. Te 8). I will discuss these copies in detail in the fifth chapter. 96 This edition is preserved at the BN (Rés. Ye. 189). 97 It should be noted here that the idea of appending the Three Living to the Dance of Death in the printed editions most likely stems from mural precedents since the two macabre themes have frequently been depicted together in frescoes before and after the publication of the books. 48 especially interesting in this regard since he was obviously in possession of both versions of the cuts – his version of the Dance of Death of men includes the full set of Vérard’s woodcuts and six additional woodcuts taken from Marchant’s 1486 augmented edition. How popular was the Danse macabre series? The fact that it was published at least nineteen times in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries, suggests that it was a sought after title. As soon as Marchant printed his first edition, he began the process of reinventing the series by adding on new figures and text. By June of 1486, just nine months after the first edition, he published an augmented version of the men’s dance entitled La danse macabre nouvelle, which featured six additional woodcuts and ten new dancers (the Dead Musicians, the Papal Legate and the Duke, the Schoolmaster and the Man-at-Arms, the Proctor and the Jailer, the Pilgrim and Shepherd, and the Halberdier and the Fool) and was accompanied by the illustrated legend of the Three Living. A month later, in July of 1486, he published the first edition of the Danse macabre des femmes – an original series dedicated to female protagonists. W omen, we will recall, were not included in the fresco from the Innocents, although verses of the Danse macabre des femmes poem are featured in some fifteenth century manuscripts. 98 It is important to note, however, that these manuscripts were not illustrated and thus the artist who designed the woodcuts did not necessarily have a model to work from. The verses were likely written by Parisian poet Martial d’Auvergne (d.1508), though this attribution is still occasionally debated. As Ann Tukey Harrison and Sandra Hindman demonstrated, the verses of the women’s dance are composed in a distinctly Parisian Middle French and the city is also 98 BN, Ms. fr. 1186, dated 1482, BN, Ms. fr. 10032, no year available, BN, Ms. fr. 25434, no year available, and Bibliothèque Arsenal, Ms. 3637, dated 1519. Save for the Arsenal copy, all other manuscripts feature both female and male cycle of dancers. For a discussion of the manuscripts see Ann Tukey Harrison, ed. The Danse Macabre of Women, Ms. fr. 995 of the Bibliothèque Nationale (Kent, Ohio and London: The Kent State UP, 1994). On the Danse macabre des femmes poem see P.-L. Miot-Frochot, ed. La Grant Danse Macabre des Femmes que composa Maistre Marcial de Paris d’Auvergne procurer au parlement de Paris publie pour la première fois d’après le manuscript unique de la Bibliothèque Imperiale (Paris: Libraire Bachelin-Deflorenne, 1869). 49 reflected in the verses directly in a number of references to places and events, all of which differentiates this poem from the men’s Dance of Death. 99 The best indicator of popularity is a comparison with other similar titles published at the time. For example, the Ars moriendi (The Art of Dying) tract, which is thematically close to the Danse, was published in France in twenty-four known editions. 100 Another fifteenth-century bestseller was Sebastian Brant’s allegorical and moralistic treatise Das Narrenschiff (The Ship of Fools) written in Basel in 1494. Promoting similar theological concepts as the Danse, the Narrenschiff emphasized the folly of human nature, criticized moral corruption and sinful behavior and reflected the whole of society through the symbol of the metaphorical ship, or the “fool’s mirror.” 101 By the early sixteenth century, Brant’s treatise was published in twenty-six editions, seven of which were printed in France. As will be discussed in more detail in the third and fourth chapters, the book was not only translated into French (La grande nef des Folz du Monde, 1498), but also adapted into an original series with female protagonists entitled La Grant nef des folles (The Ship of Female- Fools) published in 1498 for bookseller Geoffroy de Marnef. 102 Jacobus de Voragine’s Legenda aurea sanctorum (The Golden Legend), one of the most famous titles in the Middle Ages illustrated in numerous manuscripts, was also hugely popular in printed books – 167 editions were printed in Europe, 34 of which were published in France. Another oft-printed work was the Mirouer de la redemption de l’humain lignaige, which, as we discussed earlier, was the first illustrated book published in France in 1478 – it went on through at least twelve editions. The allegorical poems La Roman de la Rose (The Romance of the Rose) by Jean de Meun (d. c.1305) and Le Pèlerinage de la Vie Humaine (The Pilgrimage of the Human Life) by Guillaume de Deguileville (d. c. 1358), which were derived from scribal tradition, were printed in ten and eight editions respectively. Marchant’s second illustrated bestseller, a precursor to the modern almanac , Le Compost et 99 Harrison 9. 100 See the ISTC for the list of known editions. 101 Yona Pinson, The Fools’ Journey: A Myth of Obsession in Northern Renaissance Art, Turnhout (Belgium: Brepols) 2. 102 Ibid. 4. 50 Kalendrier des bergers (The Shepherd’s Calendar), first published in 1491, was printed in thirteen editions and remained a sure seller throughout the sixteenth century. Published in at least nineteen editions, the Danse was thus one of the most frequently printed illustrated titles of the period. Like the Danse macabre, the works listed above belong to the category of illustrated books and most of them were published in vernacular, not in Latin, as was the case with the majority of publications in the early years of printing. As such, these books represent a fairly small niche. Early printed books were not frequently illustrated and, as David McKitterick explains, “most fifteenth-century books were utterly plain.” 103 About 75% of books published in the late fifteenth and the early sixteenth century were printed in Latin; the vernaculars moved to the majority only at the end of the 1500s. 104 In the early years of printing in France, the world of illustrated books was therefore rather small and as a result printers, publishers, woodcutters and illuminators frequently collaborated with one another and exchanged images and ideas. Most, if not all, printers, who published editions of the Danse macabre books also produced other popular illustrated books of the period we mentioned. Mathias Husz published several editions of the Mirouer de la redemption de l’humain lignaige, the Golden Legend and the Pèlerinage de la Vie Humaine. Marchant invented and popularized the Shepherd’s Calendar, but also printed editions of the Ars Moriendi and an unusual Flemish translation of Brant’s Narrenschiff published in Paris for Geoffrey de Marnef in 1500. Vérard, whose publishing empire specialized in the production of luxurious illustrated editions and who employed the most popular printing workshops produced copies of the Ars moriendi tracts with striking woodcuts made by Pierre Le Rouge, La Roman de la Rose, the Shepherd’s Calendar printed by Marchant and intended as a presentation copy for King Charles VIII and the Golden Legend. In order to understand how the 103 David McKitterick, Print, Manuscript and the Search for Order, 1450-1830 (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 2003) 45. 104 Andrew Petegree, Malcom W alsby and Alexander W ilkinson, eds. French Vernacular Books: Books Published in the French Language before 1601 (Leiden and Boston: Brill, 2007) xiv. 51 books altered the theme, we must now consider the Dance of Death in more specific terms. The Ambiguous Image of Death What exactly is the Dance of Death? This question, as it turns out, is not easily answered. The Dance of Death is a late-medieval visual and literary theme that is difficult to define in strict terms. For one, the name itself is variable and translated differently in different languages – the most important point of contention being “the nature of the dead protagonists.” 105 Is it the Dance of Death or the Dance of the Dead? In Germany, the theme is referred to as the Totentanz, in Dutch as the Dodendans, therefore as the Dance of Dead. In Spanish, on the other hand, it is Dança general de la Muerte, same as in English, the Dance of Death. In French, it is known as the Danse macabre, though the verses from the Cemetery of the Innocents and Marchant’s edito princeps refer to the dead as le mort (the dead person) and not as la mort (Death). However, by July of 1486, when Marchant printed the first edition of the Danse macabre des femmes, the dead are changed into la mort, thus complicating our understanding of whether it is the Dance of Death or the Dance of the Dead. 106 The term macabre also has a long and convoluted etymology, which does not help much in resolving the issue, and actually adds more questions in relation to the origin of the French poem. 107 The earliest known use of the term occurs in a poem 105 Oosterwijk,”Dance, dialogue and duality” 11. 106 Subsequent editions and manuscripts used either le mort or la mort, further obscuring the issue. Oostwerijk explains that some of the confusion regarding the nature of the dead in the Danse macabre may be linguistic. As she explains, le is the feminine article in some French dialects of the period, including Picardian and the Anglo-Norman dialect. See Oosterwijk, “Dance, dialogue and duality” 11. 107 In the Hebrew, macabé, stands for “the flesh leaves the bones,” while in the Arabic, maqãbir (plural: maqbara) refers to the grave. For further discussion of the term, see Kurtz, especially pages 21-24. See also Hans Sperber, “The Etymology of Macabre,” Studia philological et litteraria in honorem L. Spitzer, eds. A.G. Hatcher 52 Le Respit de la mort written in 1376 by Jehan Le Fèvre. Because Le Fèvre begins the poem with the sentence Je fistz de macabree la dance (“I made/did the dance of Macabree”), scholars have wondered whether he was the author of the verses that were eventually used at the Innocents or if he had composed an earlier Dance of Death poem that is now lost. 108 Like the other macabre theme, the Dance of Death poem shares similarities with religious literature of the contemptus mundi tradition out of which it probably developed. In particular, some scholars have drawn comparisons between the Dance of Death and the Vado Mori (“I am going to die”) monologue poem, in which a series of living representatives of medieval society lament their immanent death. 109 Developed in France in the thirteenth century, the Vado Mori poetry does not feature a figure of Death personified and the distich (two-line) verses are monologues rather than dialogues, but, like the Danse, it demonstrates an interest in social portrayal and humor. For instance, the King complains, “Vado mori: rex sum. Quid honor, quid gloria mundi?/ Est via mors hominis regia: vado mori,” (I am going to die: I am the king. W hat use is honor, what use worldly glory? Death is the royal road of man: I am going to die.). 110 Like the poem from the Innocents, the Vado Mori, featured only male characters (the King, the Pope, the Doctor), but also characters that are defined by their age or other traits and sins (Juvenis, Senior, Sapiens, and Dives) and there is no evidence of a pictorial Vado Mori tradition. Despite these similarities, a direct link between the Danse and the Vado Mori cannot be established; “both may and K. L. Selig (Bern: Francke, 1958), 391-402 and Edélgard Dubruck, ‘Another look at “macabre,”’ Romania 79 (1958): 536-543. 108 These questions have never been answered successfully, though most authors agree that La Fèvre is not the author of the verses from the Innocents. The earliest known Dance of Death poem proper is the Spanish Dança general de la Muerte, which was composed around 1400. See: Gaston Paris, “La danse macabré de Jean Le Fèvre,” Romania 24 (1895): 129-32 and the second chapter of Oosterwijk’s dissertation, “Fro Paris to Inglond.” 109 Oosterwijk, “Dance, dialogue and duality” 20. See also: W illy F. Storck, “Das “Vado mori””, Zeitschrift für deutsche Philologie, 42 (1910): 422-28 and Eleanor Prescott Hammond, “Latin Texts of the Dance of Death,” Modern Philology 8 (1911): 399-410. 110 Quoted in Oosterwijk, “Dance, dialogue and Duality” 20. 53 simply have been separate compositions within the contemptus mundi tradition.” 111 It is, however, interesting that Marchant had added the Latin verses of the Vado Mori poem above the woodcuts in his editions of the Dance of Death of men, thus further linking the two literary traditions and demonstrating his talent for compiling texts from different sources in a single book. In the late Middle Ages, the Dance of Death was an international phenomenon – paintings of the theme appearing in France, England, Germany, Croatia, the Baltic countries and Scandinavia. In Italy, the theme was not as popular, though elements of it were included in the so-called Triumph of Death frescoes that showed several related macabre scenes and depictons of the Last Judgment, popular from the mid fourteenth century onward. Most, but not all, Dance of Death murals were accompanied by verses written in vernacular and the images were typically placed in public spaces of Christian churches or cemeteries. Up until the emergence of the printed books in the 1480s, the Dance of Death was mostly depicted in frescoes though there were also examples in other mediums as well: illuminated manuscripts, stained glass windows, sculpture and even theatrical performances. The ability of the Danse to be adapted and taken up by multiple media is one of the main reasons for the popularity of the theme at the end of the Middle Ages. While the painting from the Innocents was first officially adapted by Marchant, it may have also served as the model for two early fifteenth-century Books of Hours (BN, ms. Rothschild 2535 and New York, Morgan Library, MS. M. 359) that have only recently been studied in more detail. 112 Both manuscripts contain marginal Danse macabre decoration and both are believed to date from the time of the English occupation of Paris or shortly thereafter. The Rothschild manuscript, probably closer in date to the mural, illustrates the challenges of adapting a fresco composition into a book format – the dancing pairs are placed haphazardly around the miniatures and the procession is arranged in a counterclockwise manner. On the other hand, the 111 Ibid. 21. 112 See Oosterwijk, “Fro Paris to Inglond,” especially the second chapter and Kinch, Imago Mortis. 54 Book of Hours from the Morgan Library, most likely produced by the Bedford Master and his workshop c. 1430-35, contains an impressive Danse macabre cycle that features fifty-seven dancing pairs, almost twice as many as was depicted in the mural. Portraying an array of clerics (some almost impossible to identify, in part because no verses accompany the images) civic figures and tradesmen, this manuscript is also important because it places figures in individualized spaces: the apothecary is in store with pots on the shelves behind him, the money-changer is seated at his desk with coins and scales, while the ploughman follows his ox in a field. Diffusion in multiple media is also an important characteristic of the legend of the Three Living and the Three Dead, which together with the transi tombs and the Danse represent the three main categories of macabre art. 113 Like the Danse, the Three Living had a long literary tradition, first emerging in the secular context at the court of France in the late thirteenth century and then spreading across Europe in multiple forms in the late Middle Ages. Although different variations of the story exist, the Three Living tells of an encounter in which the three living, typically described as princes or noblemen returning from a hunt, come across the three cadavers. The gruesome sight of the decomposing corpses – usually shown in three different stages of decomposition, from cadavers to skeletons – and the dialogue between the living and the dead that ensues reminds the living of the inevitability of death, the 113 Literature on the Three Living is vast and cannot be fully recounted here. For an in-depth study of the French wall paintings of the story, see Groupe de Recherches sur les Peintures Murales, eds. Vifs nous sommes … morts nous serons: Le Rencontre des trois morts et trois vifs dans la peinture murale en France (Vendôme: Editions du Cherche-Lune, 2001). In recent years scholarly discussions of the Three Living have shifted from a broad analysis of the theme, to a more specific discussion of individual examples. For this reason, authors have been able to note that, like the Danse, the theme did not remain static, but changed and adapted over time, see Christine Kralik, “A Matter of Life and Death: Forms, Functions and Audiences for the ‘Three Living and the Three Dead’ in Late Medieval Manuscripts,” diss., U of Toronto, 2013, Ashby Kinch, Imago Mortis, Ashby Kinch, “Image, Ideology, and Form: The Middle English Three Dead Kings in Its Iconographic Context,” Chaucer Review 43.1 (2008): 49-82. On the transi tombs see Kathleen Cohen, Metamorphosis of a Death Symbol: The Transi Tomb in the Late Middle Ages and the Renaissance (Berkeley: UP California, 1973). 55 need to forgo earthly possessions and avoid sin in order to assure salvation. The depiction of the encounter varies depending on the artist and the medium – sometimes the living are shown as princes or kings wearing crowns and ermine furs, other times they are just noblemen. Occasionally, the living are mounted on horses – this is how they are shown in the printed books – and accompanied by dogs and falcons, signifying the hunting spree from which the living are returning. In many renditions, however, the figures are on foot and the reference to hunting is reduced to a single sign, if any. This is how the story is depicted in one of the earliest renditions – the famous miniature from the Psalter of Robert de Lisle, produced c. 1305, which portrays the Living and the Dead occupying two distinct and abstracted spaces, with the body of a single falcon transgressing the two realms. 114 In France, the theme was incredibly popular and dispersed in paintings, manuscripts and sculpture. At least sixty murals that feature the theme are known and there were possibly even more made which did not survive to the present day. When the Danse developed, in the early fifteenth century, it became common to include both themes in the same pictorial program. For example, in the early fifteenth century, Jean, the Duke of Berry (d. 1416), who seems to have been particularly taken by the Three Living and had it painted in two of his famous Books of Hours, commissioned a portal sculpture of the subject for the Church of the Holy Innocents, where it eventually stood in the vicinity of the mural. 115 Starting with Marchant’s augmented edition of 1486, it became common to include the illustrated poem of the Three Living in the printed editions of the Dance macabre of men and women (Figs. 24 and 25). Late fifteenth-century murals at Meslay-Le-Grenet and La Ferté Loupière – which, we will recall were based on the printed books – also feature a depiction of the Legend above the dancing procession (Figs. 6, 7 and 26). 114 For a facsimile edition of the psalter see Lucy Freeman Sandler, The Psalter of Robert de Lisle in the British Library (London: Harvey Miller Publishers, 1999), the miniature with the Three Living is featured on page 45, plate 5. 115 The Three Living is included in a miniature on folio 282r of the Duke of Berry’s Petit Heures, made in 1390 and in the border illumination of the Très Riches Heures, painted by the Limbourg Brothers between 1412-16. 56 The Three Living is, indeed, a natural companion to the Danse with which it shares several important characteristics. Both themes rely on the interconnectedness of text and image and though several versions of the poem of the Three Living circulated, it too was written in a form of a dialogue between the living and the dead. Like the Danse, the legend is a visual lesson not just for its living protagonists, but for the viewer as well. In the miniature from the Psalter of Robert de Lisle, for example, the living princes turn their bodies and their gazes towards the dead in a gesture that suggests that they are recipients of the visual lesson. The dead, on the other hand, engage with the princes but also with the beholder – a point made especially obvious in the way the third cadaver faces the viewer, and more significantly, gazes out at us with a sinister grin. In one important way, however, the Three Living differs from the Danse. Its narrative centers on an encounter – a momentary occurrence – that brings together the world of the living and that of the dead. Although transgressive, it is a fleeting moment that passes and from which the living will come back, thus functioning as a memento mori for the protagonists rather than a depiction of actual death as is the case with the Danse. Late medieval beliefs and burial customs insisted on a clear separation between the realm of the living and that of the dead. Elaborate burial practices: anointing, embalming and shrouding the corpse, for example, were all symbolic of the process of purification and separation of the dead from the world of the living. 116 A corpse in the process of decomposition was deemed especially dangerous, hence the practice of burying the bodies only until they de-fleshed after which point the bones were arranged in ossuaries that were typically left exposed. This is precisely why the Innocents was such a popular burial ground, its corrosive soil could decompose the body in just over a week. That macabre cadavers are precisely the decomposing, dangerous scepters, and not the ‘safe’ fully de-fleshed skeletons, is one of the main anxieties inherent in this art. In the miniature from the Psalter of Robert de Lisle, as in most other renditions of Legend, the two realms are clearly separated. Although the Living and 116 An especially useful summary of medieval burial practices can be found in Binski’s Medieval Death. 57 the Dead converse, there is no physical contact between them and, more importantly, they occupy distinct spaces. Arranged in a diptych-like composition, the Living are placed against a barren background while the cadavers float (notice how their feet do not touch the ground) in a green- colored space adorned with an abstracted fleur-de-lys pattern. Similar concerns are observed in the depictions of the Legend in the printed books. In Marchant’s the Three Living, the protagonists are depicted on separate folios, while the cross, located in the middle of the facing woodcuts, further distinguishes the two realms and possibly references the setting of the Cemetery in which the Danse also takes place (Figs. 24 and 25). Marchant’s rendition is perhaps more dramatic and engaging than the miniature from the Ps alter because he includes more narrative elements: the figures are placed outdoors; the Living, depicted as noblemen, not princes, are on their horses; and the three cadavers stand near a cave with a hermit in it. The sight of the specters is upsetting not only for the living, but for the animals as well – the horses recoil and the hunting birds are flying away from the gruesome scene. The role of the hermit in the image is especially curious. He is not just a passive observer of the dramatic encounter, he seems to participate in it holding a scroll and gesturing towards the three cadavers with a pensive expression. As Kinch has noted, the hermit figure is more commonly found in Italian, not French, renditions of the Legend, as in, for instance, the famous Triumph of Death fresco from the Campo Santo in Pisa created c. 1340s. 117 The link between Marchant’s version of the Legend and a possible Italian model merits further research, but it is important to note here that, according to Kinch, “the hermit’s role is to offer a model of sanctioned piety [and] inject a sense of proper meditative function.” 118 A similar argument is echoed in Marco Piccat’s recent article on the Italian renditions of the Legend. 119 As he argues, the hermit takes on a role “of a historian of sacred plays or 117 Kinch, Imago Mortis, 125. 118 Ibid. 125. 119 Marco Piccat, “Mixed Encounters: The Three Living and the Three Dead in Italian Art”, Mixed Metaphors: The Danse Macabre in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds. Sophie Oosterwijk and Stephanie Knöll (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2011) 155-167, 159. 58 the singer of oratories,” and is expected to comment, as if from the wings of the stage, on the story represented in the image. Because the hermit was given a role of an active agent in the depictions of the Legend, the dead in Italian examples are thus reduced to silence an are often not even shown standing, but lying in their tombs and assuming the characters of the truly dead – as they are portrayed in the Triumph from the Campo Santo. 120 According to the story of the Legend, the Living do not die, they are merely warned. In this aspect, the legend differes significantly from the Dance of Death in which all living protagonists (save for the figure of the Author) die the moment they enter the dance. Moreover, if in the Three Living, the worlds of the Living and the Dead are clearly kept apart, in the Danse that separation is removed. Not only do the the living and the dead occupy the same space in depictions of the Danse, the transgression is further emphasized in the way the dead physically engage with the living: pulling their arms, tugging on their clothes and stepping on their toes (Figs. 2, 3, 4 and 5). The violent nature of this contact renders the living helpless and prevents them from escaping the deadly dance. In Marchant’s wooducts, the dead are also armed with shovels, scythes, spears and coffin-lids, adding further to the sinister note of the image (Figs. 8 and 27). In the context of late medieval beliefs and burial customs, the Danse brings forth several frightening notions. In the image, the dead take the living by surprise; they pull them into the dance without warning and kill them instantly. Although the living are given a chance to talk to the dead, ultimately, their dialogue is not productive because no living protagonist can argue his way out of death. In the Danse, the living die a bad death. No figure in the image is given a chance to repent or confess, and no one is anointed by a priest or given the Last Rites. This is in stark contrast with the advice given in the manuals on good dying, or the Ars moriendi, which were invented at the end of the fourteenth and early fifteenth century and were still, as we have seen earlier, extremely popular at the time the printed books were made. In the illustrated versions of the tract, the dying man, Moriens, is shown 120 Ibid.159. 59 lying in bed and surrounded by a priest, family and friends. 121 The bedside drama is made even more complex by the inclusion of demons who cluster around Moriens and hide beneath his bed and the holy presences of Christ, the Virgin and the saints who also surround him. At the moment of his death, Moriens is tempted and has to ponder the routes set out by demons and Christ and the saints, “before choosing the latter path and commending his soul to God.” 122 As Binski has argued, the theme of the Ars moriendi: …plays on the inescapability of death and also on the fragile, but fundamental character of human choice – Moriens is in effect controlling the character of his own death , and so of his destiny. The most important thing is that he should die in a state of preparedness, that he should be ‘shriven’ (absolved) of his sins; to give someone ‘short shrift’ means to allow them little time for confessions and satisfaction before death, to treat them curtly. 123 Being in control of one’s death, like Moriens, and adhering to the rules inscribed by the burial practices, including anoitment, washing and enshrouding the body, processions and interments, protected both the living and the dead and assured a proper transition into the afterlife. That such rituals were of pivotal importance to the late-medieval culture is also evident from the fact that Books of Hours commonly featured vignettes depicting specfic burial customs in the sections dedicated to the Office of the Dead. 124 Depictions of burial rites in manuscripts were especially 121 For an electronic facsimile of Vérard’s edition of L’art de bien vivre et de bien mourir (Ars moriendi) published in Paris in 1493/94 see the edition preserved at the Library of Congress, Rosenwald 424 http://lcweb2.loc.gov/cgi- bin/ampage?collId=rbc3&fileName=rbc0001_2004rosen0424page.db 122 Binski 40. 123 Ibid. 40. 124 On this issue see Gloria Fiero, “Death Ritual in Fiffteenth-Century Manuscript Illumination” Journal of Medieval History 10. 4 (1984): 271-294 and Alexandre- Bidon, A Réveiller les morts, especially pages 83-94. 60 prominent during the periods of the plague epidemics suggesting an interest in regulating funerary customs in the moments of crisis. 125 Desite the importance of burial rites, such rituals are not portrayed in the Danse and the image does not even show an act of dying per se. 126 Save for the verses, which imply that the living are about to die, nothing in the image references dying specifically: there is no deathbed, no family members or mourners surround the victims and there is no hint at a proper burial that is to follow. Even more disconcerting is the absence of any real sign of salvation or an afterlife for the protagonists in the image. Although the Dance of Death is framed by a preacher-like figure of the Author whose verses read like a sermon or homily, neither the image nor the text of the main part of the Danse, the procession of the living and the dead make clear references to salvation or the Judgment. Discussing the verses of the Danse, Jane H.M. Taylor has pointed out that the dialogue section of the text contains very little theological information that can ‘make sense’ of death. 127 Neither the image nor, perhaps more surprisingly, the verses of the French Danse contain references, religious or teleological, that could help the beholder to grasp the meaning behind the composition. In the dialogue part of the Danse, which consists of “some 540 lines out of a total of 646,” God is mentioned only ten times and three of those are exclamatory references (A Dieu/ Hee Dieu), Heaven is mentioned only once by the figure of the Carthusian monk, hell and purgatory not at all and judgment only three times. 128 As Taylor explains: 125 Elina Gertsman, “Visualzing Death: Medieval Plagues and the Macabre” Piety and Plague: From the Byzantium to the Baroque, eds. Franco Mormando and Thomas W orcester (Kirksville, Missouri: Truman State UP, 2007): 64-89, 67. 126 Gertsman,The Dance of Death 33. 127 Jane H.M. Taylor, “The Danse macabre: Reflections on Black Humor, with Illustrations” Comparative Criticism: Comedy, Irony, Parody (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989) 139-58, 149. 128 Ibid. 149. For example, the Carthusian does pray to God for his soul to be taken to Heaven after he dies (Plaise a dieu que lame ravie / Soit es cielx apres mon trespas), yet this is, as Taylor points out, the only instance in the poem that Heaven is mentioned. Addresing the Lawyer, the cadaver reminds him that he will have to go to the Great Judge (Au grant juge vous fault venir) to which he replies that God repays everything at a fair price on Judgment Day (A craindre est le jour de vengence / Dieu rendra tout a juste pris). 61 Nor – even more surprisingly, perhaps – do the dead offer threats or rewards, heaven or hell, to the living: at no point whatsoever do they admonish them, or recommend further prayer or repentance. All that they do, consistently, is to point to the ironies and absurdities which their mere appearance creates […] The dead, in other words, are retrospective, not prospective: they invite their victims only to the immediacy of the Dance, and not to any ‘beyond.’ 129 Because, as Taylor convincingly argues, the dead in the Danse focus, paradoxically, only on life, even the social customs and expectations that have shaped the world of the living become annulled. In the Danse, bravery and strength are trumped over by Death, status and wealth devoid of meaning (this point is especially problematic because one of the ways in which social identity is constructed in the image, and by extension in medieval society, is through costume and accouterments that the verses render pointless), and even science and knowledge are impotent (as we learn through the dialogue between Death and Doctor). 130 In other words, salvation is not promised, or even directly mentioned in the Danse, and the worldly order is emptied of meaning, leaving the audience very little to feel hopeful about. In fact, outside of specific theological teachings that could endow the composition with the things it is missing – a promise of an afterlife, a hint at 129 Ibid. 149. Speaking to the Emperor, the dead dismiss wordly status (Et vous le non pareil du monde / Prince et seigneur, grant emperiere / Laisser fault la pomme dor ronde / Armes: ceptre: timbre: baniere). Also, the dead tell the King that his power and strength is no longer of any importance (Venez noble roy couronne / Renomme de force et proesse / Jadis fustez environee / De grant pompez, de grant noblesse / Mais mantenant toute hautesse/ Lesseres vous nestes pas seul). Likewise, knowledge and science are dismissed by the cadavers and rendered useless. The dead tell the Astrologer that his knowledge of the stars will not actually save him from death (Maister pour vostre regarde r/ En hault ne pour vostre clergie / Ne povez la mort retarder / Cy ne vault rien astrologie). The dead also tell the Knight, who spent his days enjoying the parties and pretty women that now he has to enjoy a different kind of dance (Vous qui entre les grans barons/ Avez eu renon chevalier/ Obliez trompettes, clarons/ Et me suives sans sommelier/ Les damses solies resveiller/ En faisant danser longue piece/A autre danse fault veillier). 130 Ibid. 150. 62 judgment or a proof that pious life brings forth rewards – the Danse becomes an image that is not necessarily very Christian. The inherent ambiguity of the Danse has been pointed out by numerous scholars and some, like Mâle, Natalie Zemon Davis and Jean Deleumau, have even argued that the intense focus on the gruesomeness of death and decomposition, could trigger in the viewer an opposite reaction: not a desire to live piously, but on the contrary, a need to embrace the earthly life in its fullest. 131 It is true that the frame of the composition, consisting of the moralizing prologue of the Author, placed the Danse within a specific religious context, yet in the fifteenth century the majority of the audience viewing the mural in places like the Innocents, would have been illiterate and thus likely unable to interpret the more sophisticated meaning behind the image. In the words of Zemon Davis, “the pictures alone have only one comment on death – it comes to high and low alike and can come at any time.” 132 It did not help either that the satirical portrayal of ecclesiasts and laymen and the prickly tone of the verses, could, again, outside of the religious framework, be construed as a daring social critique or even, in the case of high clerics, downright blasphemy. Consider, for instance, the Cardinal’s lament who, when approached by Death, expresses sorrow for losing his title and his robe, in other words, his status and material possessions, precisely the things the Danse warns against (Plus ne vestiray vert. ne gris/ Chapeau rouge. chappe de pris); or the Bishop who worries about being questioned by God (Dieu vouldra de tout compte oir: Cest ce que plus me desconforte). At the Innocents, as we have seen, the hierarchical portrayal of upper class layman and clerics carried within a very poignant commentary on the political context in which the image emerged and there are reasons to believe that the same was true for other renditions as well. Often times, the setting of the fresco examples of the Danse helped to constrict and clarify some of the ambiguities. The image was almost always placed 131 See Natalie Zemon Davis, “Holbein’s Pictures of Death and the Reformation at Lyons,” Studies in the Renaissance vol. 3 (1956): 97 -130 and Jean Delumeau, Sin and Fear: The Emergence of a Western Guilt Culture, 13 th -18 th centuries, trans. Eric Nicholson (New York: St. Martin’s Press, 1990). 132 Davis 97. 63 in churches or parish cemeteries where it could benefit from daily sermons – we will recall how impactful Friar Richard’s week-long preaching in front of the mural was, even if the account exaggerated the numbers somewhat – and it could also benefit from the accompanying pictorial programs. In fact, as we shall see, many late- fifteenth century versions of the theme seem to have adapted the composition of the Danse precisely in order to make references to sin or judgment in more explicit terms, suggesting that very early on contemporaries recognized the inherent ambiguity of the composition and tried to correct it. The Danse macabre mural at the Benedictine monastery of La Chaise-Dieu in Auvergne, completed in c. 1470, is one example in which the composition was purposely modified (Fig. 28). 133 Although unfinished and poorly preserved, the mural stretches some twenty-six meters along the wall that separates the north aisle of the church from the choir. The placement of the image is especially appropriate: this part of the church was used by the monks to perform funerary rites and the stone slab on which they washed the dead was attached to the wall. Executed in red and yellow chalk, which imbued the figures with an eerie, ghost-like appearance, the mural was painted on four panels intercepted by four protruding piers, which were also decorated with images. The dampness of the space, the style of execution and its unfinished state, all contributed to the fact that the line up of figures in this rendition of the Danse is sometimes difficult to identify. Contrary to the mural from the Innocents, this image featured two female characters, the Canoness and the Religious W oman/Nun, and it includes a scene of Original Sin painted on one of the pillars. The scenes portrayed on the pillars were applied directly onto the surface of the stone and not, as was done with the rest of the mural, on the underpaint, hence they faded over time and are now almost completely erased. However, in the nineteenth century, when the painting was in a better condition, Achille Jubinal made 133 For a discussion of the fresco see Gertsman, The Dance of Death; Kinch, Imago Mortis; Claudie Pierre Boisse, La Danse macabre de La Chaise-Dieu (Brioude: W atel, 1977), Patrick Rossi, La danse macabre de l’abbaye de La Chaise-Dieu: etude iconographique d’une fresque du XVe siècle (Le-Puy-en-Velay: Jeanne d’Arc, 2006) and Véronique Duchâteau, La danse macabre de la Chaise-Dieu (Saint-Ouen: La Goélette, 2006). 64 sketches of the entire fresco, which although not fully reliable, show that in addition to the Author, the first pillar includes the figures of Adam and Eve standing next to the Tree of Knowledge. 134 As Elina Gertsman has pointed out, the scenes depicted on the piers clearly do not comprise a part of the Dance, but rather, illustrate another related didactic story, possibly the Mors de la pomme, a fifteenth century anonymous moralizing poem that addresses Original Sin and its effect on the world. 135 Like the Danse, the Mors de la pomme features a variety of protagonists who are forced to come to terms with the inevitability of death and in that sense it is thematically and compositionally an appropriate choice to accompany the mural. By bringing together the figures of Adam and Eve and the Author, the mural at the La Chaise-Dieu forges a connection between Original Sin that gave rise to death in the world and the “Dance of Death, the direct result of this sin.” 136 Painted on the same pier, the two iconographic themes were visually linked and, more significantly, the Danse was now transformed into a larger narrative, which was placed within specific Christian connotations. The ambiguity of the Danse is almost certainly one of the reasons why the early printers felt compelled to include additional texts and images in the Danse macabre books. Marchant’s first edition, we will recall, included only the Dance of Death, but his augmented edition from June of 1486, and, especially, the Danse macabre des femmes, published in July of the same year, began to place the Danse within a strict didactic setting. As mentioned earlier, the women’s Danse of 1486, included an elaborate subtitle which referred to the book as the Miroir Salutaire and promoted it as a self-help guide for all who desire to be saved. W hile Marchant chose moralizing verses that highlighted the debate between the body and the soul 134 Gertsman, The Dance of Death 131. The scene on the remaining two pillars are difficult to interpret, at least two figures were painted on the second pier accompanied by two skeletons, one of which appears ready to shoot an arrow. The third pier had two skeletons and two men, one of whom was pierced by an arrow and the final pier included a group of people including also possibly another figure of the Author or the Hermit. See Achile Jubinal, La danse des morts de la Chaise-Dieu, fresque inedited du XVe siècle (Paris: Didron, 1862). 135 Gertsman, The Dance of Death 131. 136 Ibid. 134. 65 or listed pains of hell, subsequent printers expanded this further to include Exhortation on Good Death, a text taken from the Ars moriendi tracts, descriptions of the Antichrist and the Last Judgment. Husz’s edition took the Christological references even further, by opening and closing the book with a full page illustration of the Trinity or the Throne of Mercy. 137 I would argue that in the context of the printed editions, adding complementary didactic texts and images was especially important since, unlike murals painted in public spaces of churches or cemeteries or miniatures included in prayer books, in printed books the Danse was not initially surrounded with other religious imagery and thus particularly prone to volatile readings. Part of the reason it was possible for Marchant to add new figures to the Danse or even to invent a new series with female protagonists, without necessarily compromising the theme, is the paradoxical quality embedded in its narrative structure. The Danse, as Gertsman observes, is “simultaneously deeply personal and widely accessible.” 138 In fact, we should wonder, with Gertsman, whether the Danse is a narrative at all? The principles of narrative structure are based on concepts of transformation – a story has to lead to some form of conclusion/resolution for there to be any story at all. But, where does the Danse lead? Neither the printed image nor the fresco examples tell a story per se or provide a complete exemplum; rather they depict for the viewer a series of replicating encounters, albeit with different protagonists. 139 In a way, each encounter between the living and the dead protagonists reads as a mini-narrative: Death seizes the man, he complains and dialogues with Death, the man dies. The image lacks narrative progression because, to cite Gertsman again, “in its entirety, it is not driven by the sum of its protagonists’ desires: any one of them can be plucked out of the Dance of Death procession without disrupting its didactic lesson.” 140 Alternatively, new figures could also be added to the composition, as printers did in the illustrated books, without compromising the theme. 137 I will discuss Husz’s edition in more detail in the fifth chapter. 138 Ibid. 13. 139 Ibid. 34 140 Ibid. 34. 66 The potential for the double reading of the Danse may also be one of the reasons the early printers were attracted to the subject matter. On the one hand, it was possible for the viewer to understand the Danse as a moralizing instructional lesson on the importance of piety and repentance and on the other, especially given the lack of reference to God or salvation in the verses and the problematic composition in which the act of dying is not actually shown, it was also likely that some viewers reached an alternate conclusion and decided to live life to its fullest, embracing their status and lusting over worldly goods. In an article on Holbein’s Simulachres, Peter Parshall argues that the message of the series was left purposely ambivalent because, as he states the “medium embraced the advantage of double readings not only as a commercial ploy encouraged by the open market but also as pitch that was consistent with an interest in prints as objects of exegesis.” 141 Although Holbein’s pictures differ from the Danse and they are a product of the intense religious climate of 1530s, the universal theme of death, “at once familiar to all but experienced by none”, was a fitting choice for early printers as well because of its inherent adaptability. 142 The theme was applicable to everyone – pour toutes gens: et de tous estaz, as Marchant explains in his 1486 subtitle – and thus easily marketable, which was certainly appealing to early printers who were always at a risk of losing their business quickly if their books did not sell. At the same time, the composition of the Danse was predicated on a portrayal of social classes, which always carried within a potential for double reading even if the books attempted to place the theme within a more constrictive framework. This is especially true for the Danse macabre des femmes series which should be seen alongside other popular topsy-turvy subjects such as the Ship of Female-Fools or the Power of W omen topos that were commonly depicted in print medium. The former, as I will discuss in the fourth chapter, was especially similar to 141 Peter Parshall, “Hans Holbein’s Pictures of Death,” Hans Holbein: Paintings, Prints, and Reception, eds. Mark Roskill and John Oliver Hand (New Haven and London: Yale UP, 2001) 83-95, 92. 142 Ibid. 92. 67 the women’s Danse, which as scholars have shown, offered widely divergent portrayal of women, both misogynistic and celebratory. 143 Questions and Issues Judging by the number of the known editions, nineteen in total, by the end of the fifteenth century the Danse macabre books were one of the most popular illustrated texts published in France. As Paul Needham recently noted, “even today, a printer or publisher who finds buyers for six or more editions of a text over a few years is seen as one who has identified a reliable market.” 144 W hat is at stake then is not whether the books were popular, but why. W hat made the theme of the Dance of Death so appealing that the early printers would return to it with such frequency at the turn of the century? W hat accounts for so many adaptations not only within the medium of illustrated books, but in other media as well? The popularity of the printed books is typically discussed not through the context of the early printing industry or the conditions in France at the turn of the century, as would be logical, but in relation to the mural from which they developed. Gertsman’s comment is particularly enlightening in this regard: 143 Ibid. 92. On the power of women theme see also Keith Moxey, Peasants, Warriors, and Wives: Popular Imagery in the Reformation (Chicago: Chicago UP, 1989), Natalie Zemon Davis. “W omen on Top” Society and Culture in Early Modern France (Stanford: Stanford UP,1965) 124-151 and Susan L. Smith, The Power of Women: A Topos in Medieval Art and Literature (Philadelphia: UP Pennsylvania, 1995). On the Danse macabre des femmes see Ann Tukey Harrison ed. The Danse macabre of Women ms. fr. 995 of the Bibliothèque nationale (Kent, Ohio: The Kent State UP, 1995); Suzanne F. W emple and Denise A. Kaiser, “Death’s Dance of W omen”, Journal of Medieval History 12 (1986): 333-343 and Josette A. W isman, “Un miroir déformant: hommes et femmes des Danses macabres de Guyot Marchant”, The Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 23. 2 (1993): 275- 299. 144 Paul Needham, Prints in the Early Printing Shops,” The Woodcut in Fifteenth- Century Europe, ed. Peter Parshall, New Heaven and London: Yale UP, 2009. 39- 91,60. 68 Late-medieval woodcuts disseminated the idea of the Dance of Death, but did not aspire to originality, referencing, instead, famous large-scale painting. The popularity of the French editions – of Marchant or Vérard, for instance – was based primarily on the fact that they reproduced and later elaborated upon he existing mural at the Parisian Cemetery of the Innocents. 145 This statement amply summarizes previous scholarly attitudes regarding the printed books, which almost unanimously reduce them to mere copies and place them in a position subsidiary to the mural. Part of the problem with the printed books has to do with the fact that the books are difficult to categorize. If, as Gertsman argues, the books were primarily popular because “they reproduced … the existing mural”, should we not expect to find at least some reference to the mural in the printed books? There are none. Marchant’s first edition, the only one that copied the mural closely, does not mention the Innocents or the famous mural and neither do any of the other known editions published subsequently. Certainly, in the late fifteenth century, the Cemetery was still a popular gathering place; it was frequently mentioned in historical and literary texts of the period. The most famous French poet of the fifteenth century, François Villon, described the charniers of the Innocents in his famous Testament; poet Jean Meschinot also commented on the ossuaries and their piles of bones and, as one author recently noted, even François Rabelais evoked the horrors of the Cemetery in an indirect way. 146 The Innocents was definitely famous enough to be the subject of the late sixteenth century painting discussed earlier in the text. The verses of the Danse macabre mural were transcribed by John Lydgate in the 1430s and used as the basis for the London Dance of Death at the Old St Paul’s and it may have also served as the model for later French frescoes. Occasional references to the mural were made in some historical accounts, most notably in the Parisian Journal and in Guillebert de Metz’s description of Paris, which date from the first half of the fifteenth century. Even still, 145 Gertsman,The Dance of Death 174. 146 Julie Singer, “Eyeglasses for the Blind: Redundant Therapies in Meschinot and Villon,” Fifteenth Century Studies 35 (2010): 112-131 69 we have to wonder whether the mural was so well known that the audience, not just in Paris, but in Lyons, Troyes, Geneva, Rouen and other places where the books were printed and sold would immediately recognize the illustrations as copies of the mural without any direct reference to it. Besides, while the first edition was based on the mural and this may have contributed to the initial success of the series, in subsequent editions new figures and different texts were appended which effectively made the books into autonomous works with their own sets of issues and correlations, many of which have absolutely nothing to do with the mural. This brings me to the questions about the term “originality.” How can we say that Marchant’s edition of the Danse macabre of women is not an original work, or that it emulated an existing painting, when, as far as we know, no female characters were depicted in the original image? It is true, as I already pointed out, that the Danse macabre des femmes poem was included in several manuscripts, which were not illustrated, and female characters were featured in some French illuminated manuscripts and fresco versions of the Danse, but even still, Marchant’s edition is an elaboration of the earlier renditions of the poem and no image included more than two women, let alone thirty-four. Even if it was derived out of a literary tradition, Marchant’s Danse of women is still a novel work of art, for after all, most macabre images, including the mural from the Innocents, emerged out of previous literature, but are still treated as original works. Should this concept not be extended to printed books? And, if not, why? W hat reason is there, except for the oft-criticized practice of traditional art history favoring large scale works, to make the printed editions somehow less original because they reference a previous image or a text all the while producing a new, adapted work? Nor should we treat Marchant’s versions of the Danse macabre of men as mere copies simply because the first edition reproduced the same characters as the mural. For one, as architectural historian Robert Berger pointed out in his discussion on public art in Paris: .[…] the men’s Danse macabre, taken from the Innocents, marked the first time in the history of art that a fresco cycle was reproduced in its entirety. 70 (Previous efforts to record figural cycles, which are very rare, took the form of drawings or manuscript illuminations, which necessarily had a very limited circulation.) Marchant’s publications are thus early demonstrations of the power of the new medium – the printing press – to record and disseminate works of visual art.” 147 Whether Marchant’s edition was indeed the first time a fresco cycle was reproduced in its entirety is perhaps not as important (though it is certainly impressive) as the fact that the print medium did help to popularize the subject matter. While macabre art was widespread before the invention of printing, I am not sure that the theme would have trickled down into as many discourses and visual renditions had it not been for the printed books. As Koerner has shown, German Renaissance artists like Albrecht Dürer, Hans Baldung Grien and others, were all influenced by macabre art and Baldung’s Death and the Maiden series, in particular, was directly developed out of the Dance of Death tradition. The macabre figure of Death personified was also included in Early Modern anatomical theaters where it was typically perched above the dissecting table and signified the famous memento mori message of nascentes morimur (“From the moment we are born, we begin to die”). 148 And, as one author has recently argued, even the famous illustrations from Andreas Vesalius’ anatomical treatise De Humani Corporis Fabrica libri septem, published in 1543, which depict lone corpses posing in landscape, can be seen as examples of a Danse macabre. 149 The partially dissected corpses (or in some cases skeletons) standing in contrapposto or turning their backs to the viewer, are actually in 147 Robert W . Berger, Public Access to Art in Paris: A Documentary History from the Middle Ages to 1800 (University Park, Pennsylvania: Penn State UP, 1999) 32. 148 Ibid. 125. On anatomical theatres and dissection in Early Modern Europe see Jonathan Sawday, The Body Emblazoned: Dissection and the Human Body in Renaissance Culture (London: Routledge, 1995). 149 Reinhard Hildebrand, “Anatomiche Darstellungen zwischen Kunst und Wissenschaft,” Zum Streben schön: Alter, Totentanz und Strbekunst von 1500 bis heute, eds., Andrea von Hülsen-Esch and Hitrud W estermann-Angerhausen with Stefanie Knöll, 2 vols. (Regensburg: Schnell and Steiner, 2006) 181-96. 71 movement, much like the cadavers in a traditional Danse – a point which can only be observed in its entirety once the single sheets are put one beside the other. Furthermore, Marchant added new text and images almost immediately after he published the first edition and, more crucially, began the practice of append ing additional illustrated poems in the Danse macabre books, hence placing the theme in a wholly new context. Just as the Danse macabre frescoes in European churches are part of a larger iconographic program and should be – as Gertsman convincingly argued with her discussion of the murals at Meslay-le-Grenet or Berlin, for example – viewed together, text and images in an illustrated book are also part of a whole and their relationship to one another should not be ignored. One more point regarding the notion of originality must be made. In the realm of visual arts, the transition from medieval to Renaissance France was marked by an unprecedented collaboration and cross-pollination of different media. As France was becoming more exposed to Italy and the Italian models of art and philosophy, the production of art and luxury objects was undergoing significant change. It was not only, as we have seen, that illuminators and printers collaborated frequently; rather artisans in different fields – from stained glass windows and tapestries to painted enamels and even playing cards were in close contact and often exchanged ideas and reused models. As authors of a recent exhibition catalogue on French art around 1500 explained: “[t]he impetus to create images in multiples and the corollary effect, the tendency to break up the creation of the work of art into a series of steps were among the most significant developments in the period.” 150 Creating or reusing models for stained glass windows, tapestries, embroideries or even sculpture was of course not a novel practice, but in this period the phenomenon took on an unprecedented scope. 151 Part of the reason was certainly the advent of printing, but also the fact that public “demand was not always directed toward unique, original works.” 152 Originality held very little value and copying from models was exactly the type of art making that the audience was looking for. The same argument is echoed 150 Taburet-Delahaye and Lepape, 163. 151 Ibid. 163 152 Ibid. 163 72 in Christopher W oods’ recent book on temporalities of German Renaissance art, in which he explains that: In the fifteenth century … on the far horizon of the modern paradigm, things that are today considered works of art and therefore non-substitutable, like statues and paintings, were still constantly standing in for one another. Copying was the normal way to make new things. 153 Basing a work of art on an established model did not therefore reduce the quality of the work, it did not diminish its ‘aura;’ on the contrary, it awarded it with a greater sense of importance. In such environment, the graphic arts assumed a dominant position and helped to diffuse iconographic themes and stylistic trends. The centrality of the book in the arts of the period should actually help explain how the same image of the Danse existed simultaneously in several different media at the end of the fifteenth century. It is now almost a trope to suggest that in reproducing the mural, Marchant had hinted on the original setting of the image, painted on the wall below the arcades, by placing the dancing pairs within an architectural frame consisting of arches and columns (Figs. 29 and 30). 154 The framing also helped to create a sense of continuity in a medium that was unable to reproduce the lengthy procession in a single image. W hile I agree with the latter argument – framing was so crucial in signaling continuity across folios that even Husz used it in his otherwise completely unconventional rendering of the Dance of Death with the Printers and the Bookseller – I do wonder about it being a direct reference to the setting of the mural. As Otto Pächt has shown in relation to illuminated manuscripts, using an architectural framework, be it a simple arch and column, or the elaborate Gothic framing we find 153 W oods 18. 154 This argument is reproduced in nearly every study on the Danse, even the more recent ones. Gertsman, for instances, writes: “Marchant’s editio princeps, extant in one examplar, places the protagonists within arches that echo the arches of the cemetery cloister where the original fresco was pained,” 6. In discussing the translation into print medium, Clark explains that the “ornamental arcading of the woodcuts corresponds to the stone arches in the original,” 25. 73 in miniatures painted by Jean Colombe, for example, had been a useful pictorial device that helped ‘anchor’ an image to the page since the time codices replaced rolls. 155 Such framing prevented a miniature (or in this case a woodcut) from ‘floating’ on the page and aided the act of simultaneous reading and viewing of images and texts in a manuscript – a process very different from viewing other forms of visual arts. W e should remember that Marchant’s first edition was one of the earliest illustrated books published in Pairs and that it was made in the period of transition from scribal to printing culture, at the time when the new medium still borrowed heavily from the manuscript tradition. DuPré’s Missale, for example, the first illustrated book printed in Paris, reused border decoration from illuminated manuscripts produced at the time to create a distinctly French style of illustration. Illuminators worked simultaneously for scribal and printing workshops and publishers like Vérard frequently copied miniatures from manuscripts in their printed books. Even the typeface in this period still resembled handwriting, so it is not surprising that all other aspects of bookmaking were steeped in scribal tradition. Is it possible then, that the framing in Marchant’s editions is an example not of the printer’s desire to emulate the original architectural setting of the mural from the Innocents, but of the new medium’s emerging pictorial language that was, at the time, in the process of being established? This is all the more possible – and I would even argue highly likely – given the fact that the exact style of framing is found in other illustrated books of the period. For instance, a number of incunabula editions of the Speculum humanae salvationis, printed in the 1460s and 1470s, feature an almost identical frame (henceforth Speculum). 156 In the Speculum, the corresponding stories from the Old and the New Testament are juxtaposed; hence the book shows double scenes per 155 Otto Pächt, Book Illumination in the Middle Ages: An Introduction, trans. Kay Davenport (Oxford and London: Harvey Miller Publisher and Oxford UP, 1984) 32. 156 For an illustration from an edition of the Speculum printed in Utrecht in c. 1470 preserved at the Library of Congress as Incun. X. S72 Rosenwald Collection see https://upload.wikimedia.org/wikipedia/commons/d/d4/LOC_SHS.jpg 74 page framed, like the Danse, by arches and columns. 157 Even more impressive is the overall similarity in the layout of the page between the two works, which further suggests that the printers at this time were working towards formulating a uniform pictorial design for illustrated books (Figs. 29 and 30). 158 Arches and columns are also used as frames in the xylographic editions of the Biblia pauperum, although in this book each page depicts several typologically connected scenes that are anchored into a larger architectural framing. Vérard had also used the same framing for his edition of L’Art de bien vivre et de bien mourir, published in 1493/94. 159 More importantly, however, a similar framing is found in illuminated manuscripts of the period, such as, for instance, in the manuscript of Jacques d’Armagnac (BN, Ms. fr. 9186) made before 1477, and even in tapestries woven at the time, as in those depicting the life of the Virgin from the Church of Notre-Dame in Beaune, which were based on the design by the Dijon painter Pierre Sprice created in 1474 but not woven until 1500. 160 These examples point to the level of exchange across multiple media that defined the turn of the century in France, but also demonstrates the importance of studying the Danse macabre books alongside other works produced in the same period. 157 In the Speculum editions, the column in the middle splits the two narratives. While in Marchant’s books, the middle column is not shown probably in order to emphasize the processional aspect of the Danse, in Vérard’s editions there is a middle column. For a discussion of the history of the Speculum in both manuscripts and printed editions see Adrian W ilson and Joyce Lancaster W ilson, A Medieval Mirror: Speculum Humanae Salvationis 1324-1500 (Berkeley and Oxford: California UP, 1985). 158 See footnote 156. 159 See footnote 121. 160 The miniatures from the manuscript of Jacques d’Armagnac are discussed and reproduced in Mâle, 287-296. The tapestry depicting the Life of the Virgin from Beaune is discussed and reproduced in Philippe Lorentz, “The Genesis of the W ork of Art: The Patron and the Artist in France around 1500,” Kings, Queens and Courtiers: Art in Early Renaissance France, ed. Martha W olff (New Haven and London: The Art Institute of Chicago and Yale UP, 2011) 21-27, 25 and in Fabienne Joubert, “Nouvelles propositions sur la personnalité artistique de Pierre Spicre, La Splendeur des Rolin: Un mécénat privé à la cour de Bourgogne, ed. Maurice- Chabard (Autun and Paris, 1999) 169-91. 75 The questions raised thus far emphasize the importance of studying the Danse macabre books both in the context of the history of printing and in relation to other media produced at the time. The transitional nature of many editions reflects the deep connection between scribal and printing culture of the period, which goes beyond a mere experiment with form and effects the books’ expressive and iconographic meaning, to say nothing of the way it impacts the viewer. Following Camille, we should wonder whether in leafing through Vérard’s hybrid volume “the readers duped themselves into believing that this was a handwritten as well as a hand –painted page.” 161 The wide range of editions within a single series – from Nicole de la Barre’s quarto format in which the verses and the woodcuts did not always match, Husz’s composite volume comprised of woodcuts designed by different artists to Vérard’s would-be manuscripts – suggests, as Camille has argued, that in the fifteenth century “there were obviously some viewers who wanted to read and some who were more concerned with the “art” in the text.” 162 While studies on macabre art pay little attention to the range of editions or formats in which the books circulated, recent scholarship on early print medium emphasizes the importance of considering materiality and adaptability of these printed images. Arguably the most important recent contribution to the study of early prints was the 2005-2006 exhibition Origins of European Printmaking: Fifteenth Century Woodcuts and their Public that highlighted the practical function of early prints which went beyond the aesthetic appeal as many images were pasted into manuscripts, edited, inscribed or otherwise manipulated by their initial audience. 163 There is evidence of the reader’s presence in the Danse macabre books as well, as I will discuss in the fifth chapter. The issue of reception has also been at the core of most recent texts on macabre art and the Dance of Death in particular. One of the most productive aspects of Gertsman’s approach has been her interest in locating the viewer of the Dance of Death murals. In discussing examples from Tallinn, Lübeck, Berlin or 161 Camille 272 162 Ibid. 272. 163 Peter W . Parshall and Rainer Schoch, eds. Origins of European Printmaking. 76 Meslay-le-Grenet, Gertsman continually paid attention to how the audience related to the image, where they stood in relation to it, how they moved along with the mural and how the composition affected the viewing experience. No rendition of the Danse is exactly the same and, in fact, each mural adapts or manipulates the theme to fit its architectural or pictorial program. The same can be said about the printed books. If we consider each edition as a space and pay attention to all aspects of the books – images, texts, title pages, colophons, subtitles, or page layouts – we see how differently the theme functions in different books. The transitional aspect of bookmaking in the late fifteenth century has been much studied in the past, but new texts on the French context have expanded the scope of study to include works produced in other media, especially enamels, textiles, stained glass and panel paintings. 164 For example, Ina Nettekoven’s study has identified a group of artists associated with the Ypres family that have been responsible for producing designs for the fifteenth century stained glass rose windows at the Sainte Chapelle and the metalcuts and woodcuts used for printed Books of Hours published in Paris. 165 The diffusion of models across multiple media has been a subject of a recent dissertation that discusses painting and luxury arts in Paris and it was also a subject of major exhibition held at the Grand Palais in Paris and at the Art Institute of Chicago in 2011. 166 As the curators of the exhibition pointed out, “the exuberant outpouring of activity in all media, including monumental 164 Bibliography on the transition from scribal to printing culture is extensive, for our purposes useful studies include Sandra Hindman and James Douglas Farquhar eds, Pen to Press: Illustrated Manuscripts and Printed Books in the First Century of Printing (College Park: University of Maryland, 1977); David McKitterick, Print, Manuscript and the Search for Order, 1450-1830; Sandra Hindman, ed. Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books 1450-1520; Isabelle Delaunay, “Echanges artistiques entre livres d’heures manuscrits et imprimés produit à Paris,” diss., U of Lille III, 2000; Henri-Jean Martin, Roger Chartier and Jean-Pierre Vivet,eds. Histoire de l’édition française, Tome I, Le livre conquérant: Du Moyen Age au milieu du XVIIe siècle (Paris: Promodis, 1982). 165 Ina Nettekoven, Der Meister der Apokalypsenrose der Sainte Chappelle und die Pariser Buchkunst um 1500, Ars Nova 9 (Turnhout: Brepols, 2004). 166 Katherine Eve Baker, “Painting and the Luxury Arts in Paris, 1490-1515: Objects and their Urban Contexts,” diss. U of Virginia, 2013 and Martha W olff ed., Kings, Queens and Courtiers. 77 works of sculpture, stained glass, tapestry, refined and intimate illuminated manuscripts, luminous painting on panel, goldsmithwork and prints (then an innovative new medium)” created at the turn of the century have generally been overlooked, even by French scholars, in favor of the glamorous arts produced at the court of Francis I just a decade later. 167 My project aligns with this emerging area of focus on the art produced around 1500 as the makers of the Danse macabre books were active participants in the artistic exchange of the period and helped diffuse the image of the Danse in multiple media while also borrowing from other arts to define an essentially French style of illustration in the books they made. The Danse macabre books were also a product of transition from one historical epoch to another. The period between 1480 to the 1520s, precisely the time the books were most frequently published, was marked by religious upheaval in the W estern church, the rise of humanism, discoveries of the new lands and the emerging interest in the body evident from the scientific and medical treatises produced at the time. It is through the medium of print that many of these ideas were diffused and the Danse macabre books, as I will show, are directly or indirectly implicated in the changes that marked the period. For example, part of the humanist discourses at the turn of the century involved a revival of classical theatre in France. The comedies of Terence were especially popular and published in multiple editions, sometimes with illustrations, by printers such as Husz and Vérard. Terence’s comedies, much like the Danse, invited responses from their audiences through prologues and speeches directed at them and it is probably not a coincidence that the early printers were interested in the theme of the Dance of Death, which featured strong performative components. Before these issues can be explored, however, we must first turn our attention to the study of printers and publishers in fifteenth-century France. 167 W olff 7. 78 CHAPTER THREE Death and the Business of Printing: Guy Marchant and the Production of the Danse macabre Books The Printers and the Bookseller – New Figures in the Dance of Death Folio b 1 in Mathias Husz’s 1499 edition of the Danse macabre depicts two distinct spaces: the printing workshop and the bookstore (Fig. 10). Although the thin column, placed to the right, slightly off centre, visually separates the two scenes, they are nevertheless linked through a common narrative. In fact, the woodcut functions much like a diptych and the column – its round base protruding into our space and giving it a sense of three-dimensionality – both splits and hinges the two ‘panels’ together. In the scene on the left, two grinning cadavers are snatching away the printers. The workers are caught unexpectedly, surprised in the middle of the various printing tasks. Seated on the bench on the far left, the compositor is still in the process of completing a line of text; he is holding the composing stick and picking out the type from the table in front of him. Performing one of the most challenging tasks in the printing workshop, the compositor needed to master a series of movements and work quickly handling letters without pausing or looking. 168 To 168 Although the technique of manual typesetting is now rarely used, except in specific artisanal workshops, the process has hardly changed since the beginning of printing. On the techniques used by the early printers see Lucian Febvre and Henri- Jean Martin, The Coming of the Book: The Impact of Printing 1450-1800, trans. David Gerard, ed. Geoffrey Nowell-Smith and David W ootton (London: NLB, 1976). As Febvre and Martin explain: “The equipment used is much the same: the compositor stands in front of a ‘case’, a large wooden cabinet subdivided into a series of pigeon holes each containing a different letter or sign. He takes out letters one at a time and places them in his composing ‘stick’, a small slotted receptacle, formerly wooden, now metal. W hen a line of type has been assembled in the stick (i.e. ‘composed’) the compositor places it in a ‘galley’, a small tray in which the lines 79 acquire such dexterity, he had to become an “automaton,” much like the modern typist at the keyboard. 169 The intensity of his focus is captured in the compos itor’s expression. Although he tilts his head towards the cadaver, his expression seems withdrawn, as if he has not yet realized what is occurring. W hile the other two printers resist the dead – their open mouths imply that they are also screaming – the compositor is oddly resigned. The second cadaver halts the process of printing. Death removes the pressman’s hand from the bar and prepares to drag him away. The pressman’s body shows signs of marked resistance – his right foot is pushed against the body of the press and firmly planted on the ground, his torso pulling away from the cadaver. The other printer, partially visible in the background, is also resisting. Although the inker is not actually seized by Death (yet?), he attempts to defend his working companion. The inker points his ‘weapon’ at the cadaver, but his effort is futile because the leather ball stuffed with hair or wool will be no match for the awful attacker. The bookseller in the panel on the right does not fare much better. Trapped in the tight space between the bookshelves and the counter, the libraire despite attempts to escape, but really has nowhere to go. Death stretches his bony arm over the counter and grabs the bookseller by the sleeve of his dress. Putting an end to the reading (and the selling) of books, the cadaver tells the bookseller to let go of his books (Laissez vos livres maintenant), one of which lies open on the counter. Husz’s woodcut is about printing and about death. In the image, he successfully merged the representation of printing with macabre sensibility and in so doing opened up the scene to multiple readings. Inherent in the composition of the woodcut is the emphasis on mechanical reproduction of books, hence the of type are held, with a ‘lead’ between each line (the leads are small lead pieces which do not register and which keep the lines apart). He then groups the lines onto pages and assembles the pages in the forme where they are secured with wooden wedges and firmly tied together,” 61. Nowadays, the compositor can tell by touch which letter he is taking out of the case by feeling for the notch cut in its shank. However, early types were not notched and the compositor had to use his eyes to check the letters before placing them in the stick. To be able to work fast, it was necessary that the letters be arranged in the same order in every case he had to work at. 169 Febvre and Martin 62. 80 arrangement of printers along the specific steps of production: typesetting, inking, printing, selling and even reading. Husz provides not only visual clues to assist the viewer in understanding the sequential process of printing – assembling the lines of the text, pulling the press, selling the books – but the verses placed below the woodcut also reference the words associated with printing such as “presses,” “capses” and “les imprimeurs.” The text of the poem makes reference to the scope of printers’ work as well – they publish books on a variety of disciplines: law, theology and poetry (Imprime avons tous les cours. De la saincte theologie. Loix /decret / y poeterie). Husz therefore comments not only on how the printed books are made, but also what printers are capable of producing and in so doing advertises his profession and his shop. The importance of printers as the new members of society is emphasized in Husz’s Printers. W hile in the Dance of Death, social classes are always depicted by a single figure (the Abbot, the King, the Hermit), in the woodcut the printers are shown by three different individuals and the verses refer to them in plural – les imprimeurs – not in the singular, as is the case with all other protagonists. Moreover, in the social hierarchy of the Danse, Husz places the printers and the bookseller between the figures of the Astrologer and the Bourgeois and the Canon and the Merchant, thus giving them a fairly elevated status. How accurate was this placement? As Miriam Usher Chrisman explains: “By traditional definition [printers] were artisans and craftsmen. In reality, they enjoyed a higher status.” 170 In practice, a social status of a printer was rather difficult to define and there was, as Husz portrayed in the woodcut, a very specific hierarchy within a printing workshop. The typesetter, or compositor, had an important role in the workshop. He was typically more educated than the pressman and thus had a more secure job and a better relationship with the head printer. The pressmen and inkers were the lowest paid among workers and it was not unusual to find them working for a workshop for a time before they moved on to another press or another town altogether since they 170 Miriam Usher Chrisman, Lay Culture, Learned Culture: Books and Social Change in Strasbourg 1489-1599 (New Heaven: Yale UP, 1982) 3. 81 often belonged to the strata of journeyman. 171 Unlike compositors who were generally well paid, the pressmen’s job and financial future were seldom secured. The status of the head printer, as well, varied greatly. Master printers with an established shop and a steady clientele, like Husz, were fairly wealthy. On the other hand, printers whose enterprise depended on employment from the bookseller- publisher had a very different status. Add to this the fickleness of the industry, especially pronounced in the early years of printing, when many head printers opened stores only to find their business dwindle and collapse within months. 172 The social position of the bookseller, another type inserted in the Danse by Husz, was a bit different. The libraire was a profession of long standing, though, again, the precise social position of a bookseller depended on many factors. 173 The advent of printing began to change the scope of the bookseller’s profession – although many sold printed works along with manuscripts – only a handful recognized the possibilities of the new industry and adapted their business accordingly. Printing also gave rise to the figure of the libraire-publisher, typically a wealthy bourgeois who employed numerous presses to print the work, which he then sold through his numerous outposts. Some printers sold their stock in a shop appended to their workshop – perhaps this is the setting Husz portrayed in the woodcut – but it was more common for books to be printed in a workshop and then sold in shops across the town or country. Much of the distribution of early printed works also lay in the hands of the libraire-publisher who had connections and bookstores in multiple places and could dispose of stock fairly quickly. The dichotomy set up by the printers and the bookseller in Husz’s images is interesting 171 Febvre and Martin 130. 172 Chrisman is especially good in pointing out the speed in which many early printing workshops opened and closed in Strasbourg as a result of poor business choices of their owners. 173 For a discussion of booksellers in France, see Richard A. Rouse and Mary A. Rouse, Manuscripts and Their Makers: Commercial Book Producers in Medieval Paris 1200-1500, vol. 1 (Turnhout, Belgium: Harvey Miller Publishers, 2000), especially pages 321-323.The difficulty in defining social status, however, was not unique to printers and booksellers. The same can be said about late medieval merchants. Some of them were quite wealthy and even held positions of prominence in the city, while others were simple owners of store. 82 precisely because it reflects the collaborative, but also complicated relationship that was established between these two groups in the early years of printing, as I will discuss in this chapter. Printers often worked for booksellers, but could also occasionally become booksellers. The bookseller, at least theoretically, had a high er social position, but in the woodcut the bookseller comes after the printers, perhaps because Husz was more concerned with emphasizing the process of making rather than selling books. Early Printing in France (1470-1500) The printing industry portrayed in Husz’s woodcut arrived in France rather late. The first printing workshop was established in 1470, in Paris, almost two decades after Johannes Gutenberg had begun printing in Mainz. The first press, erected in the precincts of the old Sorbonne, was not really set up as a business venture but rather as “a service to the cause of learning,” explains Colin Clair, by two professors of the University, Guillaume Fichet (d.1480) and Jean Heynlin (d.1496). 174 Both associated with the Faculty of Theology, Fichet and Heynlin were great admirers of ancient Rome and of the Latin classics and formed a circle of scholars and students interested in studying humanist texts. 175 Although manuscript 174 Colin Clair, A History of European Printing (London, New York and San Francisco: Academic Press, 1976) 59. The history of the first press in France and the list of works published by this workshop has been much discussed, see: Anatole Claudin, The First Paris Press: An Account of the Books Printed for G. Fichet and J. Heynlin in the Sorbonne, 1470-1472 (London: Chiswick Press, 1898); Febvre and Martin, The Coming of the Book; Jean-Marie Dureau, “Les premiers ateliers français,” Histoire de l’édition française, Tome I, Le livre conquérant: Du Moyen Age au milieu du XVIIe siècle, eds. Henri-Jean Martin, Roger Chartier and Jean-Pierre Vivet (Paris: Promodis, 1982), 163-175; Henri-Jean Martin, Mise en page et mise en texte du livre français: La Naissance du livre moderne (XIVe – XVIIe siècles) (Tours: Editions du Cercle de la Librairie, 2000); and Jeanne Veyrin-Forrer, “Aux origins de l’imprimerie française: L’atelier de la Sorbonne et ses mécènes,” La lettre et le texte: Trente années de recherches sur l’histoire du livre (Paris, 1987) 161-187. 175 Although the first workshop did not open in France until 1470, printed texts were known and even sold in Paris for several years prior. German printers Johann Fust 83 copies of some Latin classics were readily available, this circle of scholars felt the need for accurate texts of Sallust, Cicero and Virgil, which at the time were rare and faulty. 176 W ith the aim of printing sound copies of ancient texts, Fichet and Heynlin set up the first press and invited three German printers, Ulrich Gering, Michael Friburger and Martin Crantz, who arrived in Paris at the end of 1469, to run it. 177 In the summer of the following year, they published the first book printed in France – the Epistolae (Letters) written by Gasparino of Bergamo (Gasparinus Barzizus) (d.1431), which was intended to provide students with an example of elegant and artful writing in Latin. 178 The second book printed by Fichet’s and Heynlin’s press was yet another work by Gasparino, a treatise on the orthography of Latin words arranged alphabetically, entitled Gasparini Pergamensis orthographiae liber (Ortographia) published in January of 1471. 179 Over the next two years, the press published thirty works, including texts by Sallust, Valerius Maximums, Cicero’s De Officiis (On Duties), Lorenzo Valla’s Elegantiae linguae Latinae and Fichet’s own work Rhetorica in which he summarizes the principles of correct Latin prose. 180 Although the first French press was by all accounts successful – the frequency of publications over the three years the workshop was open attests to that – the market was soon saturated. 181 The circle of humanists in Paris was rather small and the clientele interested in purchasing Fichet’s and Heynlin’s edition limited. and Peter Schöffer, who together with Gutenberg were the pioneers of the printing industry, sold some of their stock in Paris and Fust visited the city several times on business. According to Febvre and Martin, Fust even had a permanent agent in Paris, Hermann of Statboen. See Febvre and Martin 174-175. For further information on selling printed books in Paris prior to 1470, see Rouse and Rouse 321-323. 176 Febvre and Martin 174. 177 Clair 59. Gering was from Constance, Friburger was born in Colmar, Alsace, but spent time in Basel where we was an arts graduate and probably met Heynlin there and Crantz was from Heynlin’s home town of Stein in Baden. 178 Gasparino of Bergamo was an Italian grammarian and teacher known for introducing a new style of epistolary Latin inspired by the works of Cicero. 179 Claudin 5-6. Consisting of 221 leaves, Orthographia was twice the size of the Epistolae and, as Claudin explains, later copies included two additional treatises, De diphthongis by Guarini of Verona and De arte punctandi, Heynlin’s own text on the art of punctuation. 180 Febvre and Martin 174. 181 Ibid. 174. 84 Moreover, by late 1472 Fichet relocated to Rome and Heynlin resigned from his post as a corrector and as a result the workshop at the Sorbonne was permanently closed by April of 1473. 182 The German printers, led by Gering, relocated the printing workshop to the rue St. Jacques, near the church of St. Benoit, at the sign of Le Soleil d’Or (The Golden Sun). 183 W hile the new workshop continued to print some classical texts, most notably of Virgil, once they moved Gering and his associates had to widen the repertoire of publications in order to appeal to a larger audience and this meant printing devotional works, treatises on morality and manuals for confessors, all of which were sure to sell. 184 The circumstances surrounding the opening and closing of the first Paris press reflect the entrepreneurial nature of the printing industry. As historians Lucian Febvre and Henri-Jean Martin have argued, “[t]here is no better example of the frame of mind in which, and the motives for which, a small group of clerics could be led to invite some printers into town; nor of the favorable conditions, and the freedom to alter their business strategy, which allowed these early printers to succeed in establishing themselves and prosper.” 185 W hile Fichet and Heynlin may not have thought of their workshop as a business venture in a true sense of the term, the rules that governed the world of early printing and publishing nevertheless informed the working of their enterprise. As examples of successful – and even more so – failed printing ventures demonstrate, to run a profitable business a printer had to identify an audience (in the case of the first press, this was the circle of humanist scholars), establish connections with printers and publishers beyond their own town and country and, most crucially, be willing to adapt and adjust to the demands of the often fickle marketplace. 186 For the present study, understanding the nunances of the early printing in France and especially the marketing strategies of the makers of illustrated books is particularly important because, as I will argue, adaptations of th e 182 Claudin 32. 183 Ibid. 32. 184 Febvre and Martin 175. 185 Ibid.173. 186 As mentioned earlier, Chrisman’s text is great in highlighting the number of short- lived presses established in Strasbourg. 85 Danse in the printed books were often directly influenced by the workings of the industry. Although slow to arrive in France, the printing industry spread fairly quickly. By the time Gering relocated from the Sorbonne and opened a new workshop at the Soleil d’Or in 1473, he was no longer the only printer with an atelier in Paris. 187 On the same street, two houses away from Gering’s workshop, another press opened at the sign of Chevalier au Cygne (The Knight and the Swan), run by two Germans, Peter Kaiser, a master of arts, and his associate Johann Stoll. 188 Other presses soon followed and by 1480 there were about ten printing workshops operating in Paris, many located on the Rue St. Jacques, which became the hub of printing workshops in the city. 189 Even more importantly, the industry expanded beyond Paris. 190 In 1473, three years after Fichet and Heynlin printed the first book in France, Lyons was endowed with its own press. A native of Liège, Guillaume Le Roy, brought printing to Lyons and on September 17, 1473 he published Compendium breve by Pope Innocent III. 191 Contrary to Paris where the first press was associated with the University, Le Roy’s immediate financier was a wealthy merchant named 187 Fevre and Martin 175. 188 Ibid. 175. In France, Kaiser was known by several names: Petrus Caesaris, Pierre César, and Pierre W agner. Latin or French forms of names were often given to foreign printers. 189 Clair 61. 190 The origins and spread of printing in France is a topic that goes beyond the scope of this chapter and my dissertation in general. My goal is to highlight some of the main episodes in the history of the early presses in France in order to produce background for the development of illustrated books and the Danse macabre series in particular, not offer an extensive account of printers and presses in existence at the time. For a detailed account of the history of early printing in France see: Anatole Claudin, Histoire de l’imprimerie en France au XVe et au XVIe siècle, vols. I-IV (Paris: Impr. natonale, 1900-1914); Philippe Renouard, Imprimeurs parisiens, libraires, fondeurs de charactères et correcteurs d’imprimerie, depuis l’introduction de l’imprimerie à Paris (1470) jusqu’à la fin du XVIe siècle (Paris: Letters Modernes, 1965). A good overview of early French printing can be found in British Museum, Department of Printed books, Catalogue of Books Printed in the XVth Century Now in the British Museum vol. VIII (London: The Trustees of the British Museum, 1949) especially pages ix-xviii (henceforth BMC). 191 Clair 62. 86 Barthelémy Buyer. 192 In fact, the workshop was set up in Buyer’s house and it was his name, and not Le Roy’s, that typically appeared in the colophons of the books issues by this press. 193 Buyer was likely introduced to the art of printing in the 1460s when, as a student in the Faculty of Arts in Paris, he must have met Fichet and Heynlin. 194 As Febvre and Martin explain, “it is obvious that Buyer well understood the twin possibilities latent in the new art [of printing] – as an agency for the diffusion of culture and a means of earning a return on capital.” 195 Moreover, it was Buyer, not the printer, who chose texts for printing and in so doing paved the way for the type of publishing that was to become unique to Lyons – books in French for merchants and the bourgeoisie as well as legal collections. 196 Buyer was also a financier and not content to sell only works published by his press. Paving the road for later bookseller-publishers – a profession established in the late fifteenth century and best described as a precursor to modern day publishing houses – Buyer obliged other printers from Lyons to entrust the sale of some of their work to him and both French and foreign booksellers came to him to help sell off their stock. 197 Eventually, Buyer even opened branches of his store in other French towns where there was a demand for reading matter, such as Paris, Toulouse and Avignon. 198 Lyons was not a university town, but it was a major commercial center and one of the most prosperous cites in France. W hile printers in Paris, at least at the beginning of printing, catered predominately to the demands of students and teachers at the University and published mainly scholastic works in Latin, the presses in Lyons specialized in popular and often illustrated works, in French, that appealed to the general reading public. This included devotional texts, historical 192 Ibid. 62. 193 Ibid. 62. As Clair explains, during Buyer’s lifetime – he died in July of 1483 – Le Roy’s name is mentioned only on three occasions, in 1473, 1477 and 1482. 194 Febvre and Martin 118. Buyer came from a wealthy family. His father, Pierre Buyer, was a rich local notable who was also devoted to studies of the law – obtaining a doctorate in law just a few months before his death in 1458. 195 Ibid. 119. 196 Ibid. 119. 197 Ibid. 119. 198 Ibid. 119. 87 treatises, legal documents and chivalric romances. 199 Although printing houses in Paris eventually expanded their repertoires to include a range of popular works, including editions of the Danse, the dichotomy between the presses in Paris and Lyons remained for the duration of the fifteenth century. Printers in Lyons benefited greatly from the town’s geographical location – on the great commercial route between the Ile-de-France, Burgundy and Mediterranean countries – and from the Lyons Fairs, held four times a year which brought together merchants from all over Europe. 200 For these reasons, Lyons proved to be a good market for printed books and before the end of the fifteenth century about 160 printers had worked there, most of them, like Husz, of German descent. 201 Actually, German printers in Lyons were so predominant that printers as a social class became known simply as les allemands. 202 After the opening of presses in commercial and cultural centers of Paris and Lyons, printing spread to French provinces including Albi in 1475, Toulouse in 1476, Angers in 1477, Vienne and Chablis in 1478 and Poitiers and Caen in 1479. 203 The industry expanded so quickly that by the end of the fifteenth century about 40 French towns had working presses, though the majority of editions were still published in Paris and Lyons. 204 In these two cities, the number of printing workshops also grew 199 Dureau 171. 200 Clair 62. The Lyons fair took place four times yearly between 1463 and 1484. Each fair lasted fourteen days and all merchants, except the English, were admitted. In 1484 the fair was suppressed because several provinces, most notably Languedoc, were envious of the town’s commercial success. However, the four fairs, with all their privileges were re-established in 1498 by Louis XII. 201 Ibid. 62. 202 Ibid. 62. 203 Ibid. 64. For a good discussion of the way printing was set up in a French province see Diane E. Booton, Manuscripts, Market and the Transition to Print in Late Medieval Brittany, Farnham (Surrey, England and Burlington, VT: Ashgate, 2010). Typically, the presses were initially set up in towns that were either affiliated with a University or that were located in a close proximity to a paper mill. 204 As Dureau explains, while there was indeed a rapid growth in the number of new presses established in different towns in France in the last two decades of the fifteenth century, Paris and Lyons still produced about 80% of printed works, see Dureau 165. 88 rapidly and by 1500 there were 75 working presses in Paris alone. 205 Although France still lagged behind Italy in book production, it was catching up fast. 206 For example, between 1480 and 1482, Venice – which by this time had become the capital of printing – produced 156 editions and Paris only 35; between 1495 and 1497 Venice published 447 editions, Paris 181 and Lyons 95. 207 By the end of the fifteenth century, printing was thus becoming an alluring industry in France and the number of presses that surfaced in Paris, Lyons and elsewhere point to the demand for printed works and the willingness of printers to join the market and open new workshops. Editions of the Danse were first published when the printing industry was still in the process of developing and are, as I will elaborate later in the chapter, often indicative of the changes brought about by the rapid spread of printing in France. Between Script and Print: The Book in the Transitional Period The transition from handwritten books to the world of movable type was not immediate. 208 Printing did not instantly replace manuscript production and, in fact, 205 R. J. Knecht, The Rise and Fall of Renaissance France, 1483-1610, 2 nd ed. (Oxford: Blackwell, 2007) 7. 206 Ibid. 7. 207 Ibid. 7. 208 In the past, scholars tended to emphasize the profound and almost instantaneous affect the printing revolution had on all aspects of late medieval and, especially, early modern society. This was especially the view in Elizabeth Eisenstein’s hugely influential book The Printing Press as an Agent of Change first published in 1979, which played a central role in shaping the study of print culture and book history, see Elizabeth L. Eisenstein, The Printing Press as an Agent of Change: Communications and cultural transformations in early-modern Europe (Cambridge and New York: Cambridge UP, 1979). In recent years, Eisenstein’s book has been criticized by scholars who argue that the process of transition from script to print was more prolonged than her study implies. In particular, McKitterick has suggested that many changes associated with printing were only gradually absorbed over 400 years, from the invention of printing in the 1450s to the early nineteenth century. As McKitterick argues: “It is misleading to speak of any transition from manuscript to print as if it were a finite process, let alone an orderly one, or indeed that the process was all in one direction. […] the printing revolution, a phrase taken to heart by some historians, was no revolution in the sense that it wrought instant change. The revolution was 89 the two forms of bookmaking continued to coexist well into the sixteenth century. 209 For these reasons, book historians typically describe the late fifteenth century as a ‘transitional period’ and emphasize the hybrid nature of books and manuscripts produced at the time. As Elizabeth Eisenstein has recently noted, during this period script and print were so intertwined that sellers and readers of books seldom differentiated between manuscripts and printed texts: Whereas manuscripts and printed products are now assigned to separate categories by curators and dealers, fifteenth-century readers found both kinds of books for sale in the same locales, often in the same shops. Purchasers placed them together in the same cabinets or on the same shelves and sometimes had them covered by the same bindings. The contrast with twentieth century is striking […] Moreover, during the fifteenth century a carryover of format and layout reinforced the impression of similarity When discussing a particular text, readers did not always make clear whether it was hand-copied or not. 210 part technological, and part bibliographical and social. It was prolonged, and like many revolutions its progress was irregular, and its effects were variable, even erratic” (p. 47). See McKitterrick. Eisenstein’s study sparked many debates among print culture specialists and book historians, see for example: Sabrina Alcorn Baron, Erin N. Lindquist and Eleanor F. Shelvin, Agent of Change: Print Culture Studies after Elizabeth L. Eisenstein (Amherst and Boston: Massachusetts UP in association with The Center for the Book, Library of Congress, W ashington D.C., 2007); Adrian Johns, The Nature of the Book: Print and Knowledge in the Making (Chicago: Chicago UP, 1998); Margaret J. M. Ezell, Social Authorship and the Advent of Print (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins UP, 1999); or Sandra Hindman, ed., Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books, circa 1450-1520 (Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1991). 209 On the issue of coexistence of manuscripts and prints see: Mckitterick, especially chapters 2 and 3, Paul Needham, “Prints in the Early Printed Shops,” The Woodcut in the Fifteenth-Century Europe, ed. Peter Parshall (New Heaven and London: Yale UP, 2009), 39-91 and J. B. Trapp, ed., Manuscripts in the Fifty Years after the Invention of Printing (London: W arburg Institute, 1983). 210 Elizabeth L. Eisenstein, Divine Art, Infernal Machine: The Reception of Printing in the West from First Impressions to the Sense of an Ending (Philadelphia and Oxford: Pennsylvania UP, 2011) 8. Eisenstein’s first chapter, “First Impression” is also an excellent recent overview of the relationship between scribal and printed culture. 90 At the same time, as Eisenstien also notes, it would be wrong to assume that the advent of printing did not make a striking impression on at least some contemporaries. 211 Part of the reason that makes the transitional period so interesting is the impossibility of defining it in absolute terms. Contemporary attitudes towards printing ranged immensely from “committed acclamation” to “absolute rejection.” 212 Certain aspects of printing were immediately embraced. For example, the advantages of typography over hand-copying were frequently emphasized and so, in 1471, Fichet, the founder of the first French press, praised the new art in a letter he attached to some printed copies of Gasparino’s Ortogtaphia: Bacchus and Ceres were made divinities for having taught humanity the use of wine and bread. Gutenberg’s invention is of a higher and more divine order. It enables all that had been thought and said, to be preserved and transmitted to posterity. 213 Likewise, the legibility of the type over handwritten text was lauded as was the ability of the press to produce multiple and identical copies. 214 W hile evidence of “absolute rejection” of printing are rare in this period, there is one oft-quoted example in which the invention of printing is discussed in negative terms. W ritten in 1494 by the Benedictine Abbot Johannes Trithemius (1462-1516), the treatise entitled In Praise of Scribes (De Laude Scriptorum) discusses the effects of printing on the nature of the written word and highlights especially the impermanence of paper as the medium: All of you know the difference between a manuscript and a printed book. The word written on parchment will last a thousand years. The printed word is on 211 For a thorough discussion of this issue see Eisenstein’s first chapter. 212 Martin Lowry, The World of Aldus Manutius (Ithaca: Cornell UP, 1979) 24. 213 Quoted in Eisenstein, Divine Art 12. 214 In a letter written in 1455 by Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini (future Pope Pious II) to a Spanish cardinal it was said that the [printed] text was exceedingly clean, that it was without error and that it could be read without glasses. Quoted in Eisenstein, Divine Art, 6. 91 paper. How long will it last? The most you can expect a book of paper to survive is two hundred years. Yet, there are many who think they can entrust their works to paper. Only time will tell. Yes, many books are now available in print but no matter how many books will be printed, there will always be some left unprinted and worth copying. No one will ever be able to locate and buy all printed books. Even if all works ever written would appear in print, the devoted scribe should not relax in his zeal. On the contrary, he will guarantee permanence to useful printed books by copying them. 215 Yet even Thritemius’ text reveals contradictory attitudes towards printing that were typical of the period. W hile he is concerned with preservation of knowledge in the new medium, he still praised its fast modes of production elsewhere in his book and actually benefited from it by having his text printed. This is the context in which the Danse macabre books emerged. They are a product of the transitional period and reflect the hybrid nature of books typical of this time. Guy Marchant’s first edition of the Danse, published in 1485, is one of the earliest illustrated books published in France using woodcuts made by a French artist. Some of the most important printers and publishers of the period printed editions of the Danse, not just in Paris, but also in Lyons, Troyes, Geneva and possibly other places as well. Luxurious editions of the Danse printed for publisher Antoine Vérard epitomize the notion of the composite book – partially hand-made and partially mechanically reproduced so that every copy is unique. The range of editions, from Vérard deluxe copies to simple quarto (4 o ) volumes is equally striking and points to the diverse way the image of the Danse was used in the period. The Dance of Death books also participated in the multi-medial exchange of texts and images the transitional period was noted for. W oodcuts of the Danse found their way into printed Books of Hours published by Simon Vostre, Philippe Pigouchet, and, in the sixteenth century, Thielman Kerver, whereby they gained an even wider prominence since prayer books were the most frequently published illustrated texts 215 Johannes Trithemius, In Praise of Scribes (De Laude Scriptorum), ed. Klaus Arnold, trans. Ronald Behrendt (Lawrence, Kansas: Coronado Press, 1974) 63-65. 92 of the period (Fig. 13). 216 Editions of the Danse also served as the model for an illuminated manuscript created in c. 1500 preserved at the BN (MS fr. 995) and for the two mural paintings located in parish churches of Mesely le Grenet and La Ferté- Loupière (Figs. 1-7, 11 and 12). The Career of Guy Marchant While several printers, publishers and booksellers contributed to the development of the Danse in the medium of illustrated books, Marchant is neverthelss the central figure. After all, as discussed in the previous chapter, it was Marchant who is credited with the idea of copying the mural from the Innocents and translating the Danse into the print medium. Marchant also popularized the books by publishing the highest number of known editions, eight in total, and by inventing the Danse macabre des femmes series. For these reasons, the present chapter will dicusses Marchant’s printing practices and, especially, his venture into the field of popular illustrated books in vernacular. As Sandra Hindman has shown, Marchant’s career was rather unusual. 217 The majority of the books he published were aimed at the University clientele and included works on theology, grammar and humanist subjects. At the same time, however, he frequently ventured into other genres and experimented with formats as diverse as illustrated books, travel guides or even pamphlets, which opened his business to new publics for prints. Such meandering between genres and readers was not generally advisable and most early printers avoided it. 218 However, as I will 216 On this issue see Virginia Reinburg, French Books of Hours. As Reinburg explains, printed prayer books were “the bread and butter of the printing industry in the early stages of the industry’s growth,” 28-9. 217 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant ” 69. 218 On this issue see See Martha Tedeschi, “Publish and Perish: The Career of Linehart Holle in Ulm,” Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books, circa 1450-1520, ed. Sandra L. Hindman (Ithaca and London: Cornell UP, 1991) 41-67. Accounts of business practices of early printers in France recorded in Claudin’s, 93 show, Marchant’s success as a printer – he is credited with publishing at least 180 editions over the course of his career, which is an impressive achievement – was based on his keen ability to interpret the trends in the market, collaborate with the best publishers and booksellers and continually reinvent his practice. By discussing Marchant’s editions of the Danse and several of his other publications, I will argue that the making of the series was a product of collaboration with some of the main printers, publishers and booksellers working with illustrated books at the time. Although it may have been modeled on the mural from the Cemetery of the Innocents, the first edition of the Danse and the subsequent augmented or adapted versions reflect specific trends of the book market and as such have to be studied against the backdrop of the emerging printing industry. Apart from Hindman’s article, there is as yet no systematic account of Marchant’s career. 219 Not much is known, for example, about his early life or the circumstances surrounding the opening of his workshop. Several authors have suggested that Marchant was of Flemish origin, an assumption largely based on the fact that in 1500 he published a Dutch translation of the hugely popular title Das Narrenschiff (Ship of Fools) by Sebastian Brant. 220 In the colophon, printed on the Histoire de l’imprimerie also suggest that printers typically focused their enterprises on publishing specific categories of books. 219 On Marchant’s publications and printinting practices see Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant”; Claudin, Histoire de l’imprimerie, I, 335 -406; Philippe Renouard, Imprimeurs parisiens, libraires, fondeurs de caractères et correcteurs d’imprimerie, depuis l’introduction de l’imprimerie à Paris (1470) jusqu’à la fin du XVIe siècle (Paris: 1898) 256-58; André Blum, Les Origines du Livre a Gravures en France: Les Incunables Typographiques (Paris and Brussels: Les editions G. Van Oest, 1928) 20-27. Marchant’s work on a Dutch edition of Sebastian Brant’s Ship of Fools is discussed in an unpublished dissertation from the late 1940s, see: John Ralph Sinnema, “A Critical Study of the Dutch Translation of Sebastian Brant’s Narrenschiff, diss., U of Cincinnati, 1949. Marchant’s career and some of his more famous printer’s marks are briefly studied in Edwin Elliot W illoughby, “Cover Design,” The Library Quarterly 5. 3 (1935): 349- 350. 220 See Claudin, Histoire de’imprimerie 393 footnote 1 and 403 and Sinemma and Willoughby. The Dutch edition was published on June 6, 1500 under the title Der zotten ende der narrenscip and it was the first book in Flemish printed in Paris. This book, the sole copy of which is preserved at the BN (Rés.-YH-64), was made in collaboration with the bookseller/printer Geoffrey de Marnef for whom Marchant also 94 last page of Marchant’s Dutch translation, the name Guide C oopman is given as the printer of this tract. As Anatole Claudin explains, the word “coopman” means marchand in Flemish and hence the name of the printer is actually a translation of Marchant’s French name. 221 It has also been implied, based on Marchant’s last name and illustrations in some of his printer’s marks, that he comes from a family of tradesmen (“ merchant”), more specifically, shoemakers. 222 This is not surprising since many early printers/publishers came from merchant classes and were able to set up their business in part because their families had already acquired wealth through their respective trades. 223 This was certainly the case with Barthelémy Buyer, the wealthy bourgeois who established the first press in Lyons, but also with Jean Petit, one of the principal bookseller-publishers in Paris and a frequent collaborator of Marchant’s, who famously came from a family of butchers. The idea that Marchant originated from a family of shoemakers is based on the fact that three of his six known printer’s marks feature the patron saints of published several other tracts, including a Latin translation of the Danse macabre. The book is illustrated, though according to Claudin the cuts used in this edition were borrowed from the French version of Das Narrenschiff, also published for de Marnef. For an electronic facsimile of this edition see http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k110648p/f2.image 221 Claudin, Histoire de l’imprimerie 403. Marchant also altered his name when he printed an edition of the Danse macabre in Latin for Geoffrey de Marnef in October of 1490. In that book, he signed his name as Guido Mercatoris. 222 Quoted in Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 77. 223 Ibid. 77. Jean Petit was probably the most important libraire-publisher working in Paris in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. From 1493 to 1530, Petit published more than a thousand books, roughly one tenth of the entire production of Paris book trade came from his shop. As Febvre and Martin explain, Petit became one of the four great publishers of the University of Paris, putting out volumes for students and professors alike. He was also a savvy entrepreneur who collaborated with leading publishers in Paris and elsewhere, individuals like Geoffrey de Marnef, Thielman Kerver, Berthold Rembolt and John of Coblenz and frequently employed the best printers to work on his volumes, including Marchant. On Jean Petit see Febvre and Martin, especially pages 121-2 and Phillipe Renouard, “Quelques Documents sur les Petit, Libraires Parisiens, et Leur Famille (XV et XVI Siècles)” Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire de Paris ed de l’Ile de France, vol. 23 (1896):133- 153. 95 shoemakers, Crispin and Crispinian, making shoes. 224 For example, in Marchant’s third catalogued printer’s device, we see the two saints cutting up sheets of leather and putting the shoes together (Fig. 31). 225 Pairs of shoes already made are scattered on the floor between them, while a finished (?) pair of boots hangs over the beam behind the two saints. An emblem featuring an open book, two hands shaking, the initials “G. M” and a rebus make up the upper part of the image. Invented at the end of the century, printer’s marks (or devices) were initially placed above the colophons at the end of the book. At first the devices were simple, but over time they became, as Febvre and Martin have stated, “species of pictorial publicity, not only telling the book’s origin, but adorning it and affirming its quality. 226 Typically, booksellers and publishers included their house sign as their device – Marchant did this when he opened the second shop on Rue Cloppin under the sign of Prestre Jehan – but it was also very common to include emblematic or allegorical illustrations laden with symbolism (Fig. 32). 227 Marchant’s repeated use of saints Crispin and Crispinian must therefore have been of particular importance to him. W as Marchant paying a tribute to his family’s trade or constructing a clever allegory, the meaning of which is now lost? One plausible explanation has thus far been proposed. Born to a noble Roman family in the third century, the twin brothers, Crispin and Crispinian, fled persecution for their faith under emperor Diocletian and ended up settling in the Northern French town of Soissons in Picardy. 228 W hile in Soissons, 224 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant,” 77. The link between shoemakers and Marchant was first made by H. W . Davies, Devices of the Early Printers 1935 and it was then reiterated in the BMC, p. XXV. On Marchant’s printer’s marks see Louis Polain, Marques des imprimeurs et libraires en France au XVe siècle (Paris, 1926) and Philippe Renouard, Les marques typographiques parisiennes des XVe et XVe siècles (Paris, 1926). 225 The majority of printer’s devices used in the fifteenth century in France were catalogued by Polain. 226 Febvre and Martin 84. 227 Ibid. 84. 228 This is one of the two versions of the legend of SS. Crispin and Crispinian. According to the second one, the brothers originated from a Romano-Briton family whose father had been killed by a Roman emperor living in Canterbury. They settled in Faversham where they learned how to make shoes. 96 the brothers preached Christianity to the Gauls during the day and at night they made shoes to support themselves. Their preaching enraged the governor of Belgic Gaul who had them tortured and thrown into the river Aisne with millstones around their necks. Although they survived this martyrdom, SS. Crispin and Crispinian were eventually beheaded c. 286 on a plain near Soissons. The cult of the twin saints was especially venerated in Soissons, where a shrine was erected in their honor, and Marchant’s repeated reference to them in his devices may actually indicate that he came from that town as well. 229 While his reference to the twin saints may remain an unsolved puzzle, the upmost register of the printer’s mark features a rebus that is easy to interpret (Fig. 31). Flanked by the two angels is a rectangle which features a sheet of music with notes “sol” and “la” on the left and the words “fides” and “ficit” on the right hand side. The rebus points to Marchant’s motto, “Sola fides sufficit” (Only faith suffices), which is taken from Thomas Aquinas’ hymn Pange lingua gloriosa (“Sing, my tongue, the Savior’s glory of his flesh”), composed in 1263 for the Office of the Corpus Christi. 230 The source of Marchant’s motto – the writings of Aquinas, the most celebrated theologian of the thirteenth century and a professor at the University of Paris – should not surprise us. Marchant was an ordained priest and he received the title of the Master of Arts from the Sorbonne, the very place where Aquinas taught. Marchant’s name appears on the second list (rotulus secundus) of the register of nominations for the Master of Arts in Paris dated March 2, 1497. Although he never received preferment, according to one author, printing was only his second choice for a profession, a common second choice of clergymen in the early years of printing. 231 Around the time Marchant obtained the title from the Sorbonne, he began 229 This point was first made in BMC, see footnote 3 on page XXV. The theory was subsequently supported by Hindman, 80. Parenthetically, Marchant’s printer’s mark makes reference to hands – we see hands making shoes, hands holding an open book and even two hands shaking in the upper register. W hat is the meaning of this? There is also a reference to pairing or pairs – two hands shaking, pairs of boots, pairs of shoes, and most importantly a pair of twins – their sameness indicated by their identical faces. 230 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 77. 231 Sinnema XI. 97 the practice of signing his colophons as magister and in a book published in 1499 he used the full title maistre es ars. 232 Because, as I will explain shortly, Marchant’s principal readers were University students and professors, his title and the motto borrowed from Aquinas were particularly fitting. Marchant’s first shop was set up in Paris at the Hotel de Champ Gaillard behind the College of Navarre, to which it belonged. 233 Founded in 1305 by Jeanne of Navarre, the wife of Philip the Fair, the College was open to students of grammar, philosophy and theology and it was specifically intended for poor students who received scholarships to pay for their education. 234 The statutes of the College of Navarre insisted that students avoid luxury and attend divine offices in the chapel, which was endowed with four chaplains and four clerics. 235 The College was located in the eastern part of the Latin Quarter between the Rue de Murs on the east and Rue de la Porte Bordelle on the west. This meant that Marchant’s shop was further away from the main hub of printing workshops, most of which were located in or near the Rue St. Jacques, closer to the Sorbonne proper. It is clear that Marchant had a particularly close relationship with the College of Navarre because in 1499, while retaining the shop at Champ Gaillard, he opened a second venue at the Hotel of Beauregard 236 , which belonged to the College of 232 BCM, xxv. 233 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 81. The College of Navarre was located in the Latin Quarter, in what is now Rue de la Montagne-Sainte-Geneviève. During the French Revolution, the College was suppressed, its library dispersed and its archives lost. In 1805, under the reign of Napoleon, the buildings of the College were assigned to the École polytechnique, which relocated in 1976. 234 Ibid. 81. For a recent historical account of the College of Navarre see Nathalie Gorochov, Le Collège de Navarre, de sa fondation (1305) au début du XVe siècle (1418): histoire de l’institution, de sa vie intellectuelle et de son recurtement (Paris: H. Champion, 1997). 235 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 81. 236 According to Claudin, Histoire de l’imprimerie, Marchant’s first shop was set in the big house of the Champ-Gaillard across from the College of Navarre, under the sign Prestre Jehan while the Hotel of Beauregard was located on Rue Clopin (Cloppin), 380. In the entry on Marchant in BMC, the authors explain that rue Clopin and rue Gaillard were actually “one and the same” and that the second store was quite close to the first, xxv. Both Sinnema and W illoughby suggest that Marchant 98 Boncourt, also part of the College of Navarre. 237 The second shop was placed on Rue Cloppin under the sign of Prestre Jehan. Property records issued in the period between 1498-99, right at the time the second shop was open, indicate that Marchant had also significantly expanded his quarters “renting premises that took in a portion of the walls of the city between the gates of Bordelle and Saint-Victor, with the intervening three towers and the road.” 238 It thus appears that by the turn of the century Marchant had become (or perhaps he had been all along?) a man of means. 239 W as his wealth acquired through his printing enterprise? How was his business organized and what kind of books did he make? In the literature on early printing, Marchant is typically presented as a successful printer of popular illustrated books. 240 Such a view is based primarily on Marchant’s multiple editions of the Danse macabre and on another illustrated book he printed continually in the 1490s, the Compost et Kalendrier des bergiers (henceforth the Kalendrier). 241 However, as Hindman has shown, while the Danse and the Kalendrier did sell well (perhaps better than all his other editions), they do not reflect the kinds of books Marchant’s workshop typically printed. 242 Over the course of his career, which spanned from c.1483 – c.1505, Marchant published at opened his first shop with the help of his uncle, Jean de Granges who was also a priest, though I have not been able to verify this information. 237 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 81. For the history of the College of Boncourt see Raymond Cazelles, “Pierre de Becoud et le Fondation du Collège de Boncourt,” Bibliothèque de l’école de chartes 120 (1962): 55-103. 238 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 81. 239 Most sources on Marchant agree that by the turn of the century, he was indeed fairly wealthy. See BMC, xxv, Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant 77, Claudin, Histoire de l’imprimerie 335. 240 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 68. For example, Claudin opens his discussion of Marchant’s career by suggesting that together with Jean du Pré, he was one of the printers that developed the art of the illustrated book, p.335. 241 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 68. Eight extant editions of the Kalendrier printed by Marchant have been preserved. At least three of those were printed for Jean Petit (January 1496/7, September 1497, September 1500 and possibly also August 1499). 242 Ibid. 69. 99 least 180 editions, more if we include all the works he printed for other publishers. 243 The majority of his publications are short tracts on humanist or theological subjects in Latin; the books are mostly in quarto (4 0 ) format – not in folio like the Danse and the Kalendrier editions – and they are sparsely illustrated, if at all, with woodcuts “of routine workmanship which are reused in other imprints.” 244 The majority of his books are quite short, thirty-six to forty leaves is the average length, but there are a few that are even shorter, consisting of only six to eight leaves. 245 Moreover, many of Marchant’s texts are put together in the so-called “tract volumes” – books containing several short, usually interrelated texts. 246 Such output implies that Marchant aimed his books mainly at the University clientele. Given the location of his two shops, in the immediate proximity of the College of Navarre, and the fact that he printed tract texts on theology, grammar and philosophy – the main subjects taught at the school – it is very likely that his shop obtained an agreement with the College and that he was their exclusive printer/publisher. 247 This is quite possible since his vocation as a priest and later also a Master of Arts, made him ideally suited to print works for this institution. W e know, for example, that he was collaborating closely with Jean Le Munerat, cantor of the chapel of the College of Navarre and theologian at the University of Paris, on several 243 According to the authors of the BMC, after 1500 Marchant apparently worked exclusively for bookseller Jean Petit and though he signed a book with his own device as late as 1505, from 1504 Marchant’s own workshop was in the hands of his nephew Jean Marchant, xxv. By 1511, Marchant was dead. Hindman includes a preliminary list of Marchant’s imprints in her study, which consists of 149 editions. The ISTC lists 206 editions associated with Marchant, by they also include publications printed by his nephew in the early 1500s. 244 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 71. In this context, a folio format (fo) refers to a book made from sheets of paper folded only once, thus giving pages half the size of the sheet. Books in quarto format (4 o ) are made by folding a sheet with two folds at right angles, thus giving pages one quarter the size of the sheet. 245 Ibid. 71. 246 Ibid. 71. 247 Ibid. 81. Hindman wonders whether Marchant’s shop was similar to Barnes and Nobles, the firm that now has monopoly on American college bookstores, for the College of Navarre. More research needs to be done on the relationship between Marchant and the College of Navarre, before this question can be answered, but it is certainly a possibility. 100 books including a short tract written by Le Munerat in 1496 entitled De dedicatione ecclesie Parisiensis, which Marchant printed. 248 W hile the relationship between Marchant and the College of Navarre merits further research, his connection with the institution must have assured a constant flow of customers, which in turn gave him the financial backing he needed to experiment with other types of printed matter. To consider Marchant merely as the printer of scholarly tracts, however, does not do his career justice. As the list of his less scholarly publications show, he was also highly innovative, willing to experiment with different formats and new titles. Even if the Danse and the Kalendrier are not representative of his general body of works, they are nevertheless two of the most successful and oft-copied illustrated books published in France and Marchant had ‘invented’ them both. In the following section, I will analyze aspects of Marchant’s career in more detail and question how and why he began printing illustrated books. Printing the Illustrated Book The beginning of Marchant’s career was slow and punctured with two lengthy and unexplained breaks. His first published books came in October and December of 1483, St. Bonaventura’s Soliloquium and the anonymous tract De arte bene vivendi beneque moriendi tractatus, or the Ars moriendi, respectively. Although not signed by Marchant, both volumes are dated. 249 He was then allegedly inactive until September 29, 1485 when he issued the first edition of the Danse, which is also the first publication to mention him by name. 250 This publication came therefore very early in his career, at the time when he was still setting up his practice. Although a 248 Ibid. 82. 249 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 70. The year and a half interlude in Marchant’s production is difficult to gauge. Several catalogues of Marchant’s imprints, including Hindman’s, lists three potential works he may have printed between December 1483 and September of 1485: an astronomical treaty entitled Computus cum comment (avec mode d’emploi envers français ) by Anianus (1483), Jean Gerson’s De ecclesiastica potestate et De origine juris et legum tractatus (1484) and Thomas Aquinas’s Confessionale (1484). 250 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 70. See also BMC xxiv. 101 short volume, the Danse was an expensive book to make, featuring one large woodcut on almost every page. In order to publish it, Marchant had to hire an artist to design the cuts, thus further increasing the cost of the production. Early printers, including Marchant, typically compensated for the cost of woodcuts by reusing the same images for multiple imprints. 251 This strategy, however, was not possible for the woodcuts in the Danse. Since each cut corresponds to a specific set of verses, the images in the Danse could only be used to illustrate the Dance of Death and no other text. Their application was thus quite limited, which in turn made them even more of an investment. 252 Moreover, the cuts used in this edition are considered high quality and are often described as one of the best examples of early French illustration. The Danse macabre was also one of the earliest illustrated books printed in Paris. The very first illustrated book printed in France was published just seven years earlier, in August of 1478. Titled the Mirouer de la redemption de l’humain lignaige (the Mirouer), the book was printed by Martin Husz and included 257 woodcuts used by German printers several years earlier. 253 Although Husz 251 For example, in 1495/6 Marchant printed the only French edition of Thomas Bradwardine’s Arithmetica speculativa, which was illustrated with six woodcuts that had appeared in previous books printed by Marchant and that had no relation to the mathematical text. See: De Simone, A Heavenly Craft 133. Four of the woodcuts used in Arithmetica speculative are from the Kalendrier and the other two are from Marchant’s 1494 edition of Petrus de Alliaco’s De anima. 252 Marchant did manage to reuse some of the Danse woodcuts in his edition of the Shepherdess’s Calendar, printed in 1499, which included a section on death and dying and featured a fully illustrated Danse macabre des femmes cycle. 253 Martin Husz (or Huss) should not be confused with Mathias Husz (or Huss) who published the Danse macabre book in 1499. Both Martin and Mathias were German (possibly cousins) and both lived and worked in Lyons, though they owned different workshops. In the past, the works published by Martin and Mathias were often confused in literature, which is not surprising since they also often printed similar texts. According to the ISTC, Marin Husz produced a much smaller body of works – the catalogue lists 49 editions published by the printer between 1481 and 1489, though 11 of the titles listed bear the name of Mathias, not Martin Husz, making it difficult to discern exactly how many of Martin’s books are actually known. In any case, Mathias was a more prolific printer, 125 of his books are listed in the ISTC. While Martin published the first edition of Le Mirouer and then reprinted it exactly a year later (on August 28, 1479), Mathias published this illustrated book five more 102 published the first printed edition, the title had a long manuscript tradition. Better known by its Latin title, Speculum humanae salvationis (henceforth Speculum), it was one of the more popular texts of the later Middle Ages featured in several hundred manuscript copies, blockbook (xylographic) editions and sixteen incunabula versions created between the first quarter of the fourteenth and the end of the fifteenth century. 254 W ritten anonymously and compiled at the beginning of the fourteenth century, the Speculum was initially intended for the use of preaching monks and clerics. 255 The work portrays medieval concept of typology, or the thesis that all events of the New Testament were prefigured by the events recounted in the Old. The Speculum is related to the earlier Biblia Pauperum or Biblia Picta – another medieval work that enjoyed tremendous popularity in the early years of printing – which were also typological, but they were composed almost entirely of pictures, while the first Speculum manuscripts included extensive text to explain the miniatures. Lagging behind Lyons, the first illustrated book was not printed in Paris until 1481, just four years before the first edition of the Danse. Published by Jean Du Pré, the Missale Parisiense (Missel de Paris) was printed on September 22, using woodcuts designed by the German woodcutter, Desiderius Huym. 256 DuPré was both a printer and a libraire and his workshop specialized in the production of liturgical books often printed on vellum. Although illustrated by a German, the Missale featured elements that were derived from the French manuscript tradition such as elaborate borders decorated with foliage, animals and the grotesque. 257 With the Missale we see the beginning of specifically French style of illustration, which still relied heavily on scribal tradition. By the end of 1481, Dupré began the times over the course of the fifteenth century (in 1482, 1483, 1483/4, 1488 and 1493). 254 See footnote 156. 255 W ilson and W ilson 24. 256 Dupré’s name is also often spelled Du Pré in literature. He was both printer and libraire and was active between 1481 and 1496. His workshop specialized in printing liturgical books. 257 Febvre and Martin 92. 103 collaboration with a prolific French woodcutter and printer, Pierre Le Rouge. 258 In 1484, DuPré published Les cas et ruynes des nobles hommes et femmes (The fortunes and ruins of noble men and women) a translation of Boccaccio and the first illustrated book in French published in Paris using cuts made by a Frenchman. In publishing the Danse, Marchant was therefore at the forefront of a completely new format of printed matter in France – the illustrated book. For a printer who had just opened his shop, he was taking a huge risk. How did Marchant fund the publication of the Danse? W hat costs were involved in running an illustrated edition? And how much did it take to set up a printing workshop in the first place? Such questions are difficult to answer because relevant sources, inventories, accounts or daybooks of early printers are extremely rare. In the context of Paris, however, more detailed information is available because of the work of the librarian and archivist Ernest Coyecque, though much of it relates mainly to the sixteenth century context. 259 According to sources listed in Coyecque’s study, gathering the equipment necessary to open up a small press, was relatively inexpensive. The basic equipment did not cost very much and a printer could easily acquire a press, cases, galleys and a number of fonts. 260 For example, an inventory dating from 1513 lists equipment that belonged to a small-scale printer Jacques Ferrebouc, including “one press valued at 10 livres (13 livres with its 2 tympans); various pieces valued under 8 livres; 5 fonts of type, more or less worn, amounting to 40 livres.” 261 As Febvre and Martin explain, “the whole outfit was worth about 60 livres.” 262 A 258 The best source on the Le Rouge family can be found in Henri Monceaux, Les Le Rouge de Chablis: calligraphes et miniaturistes, graveurs et imprimeurs. étude sur les débuts de l’illustration du livre au 15e siècle (Paris: A. Claudin, 1896). 259 Ibid 109. See Ernest Coyecque, Recueil d’Actes Notariés Relatifs à l’Histoire de Paris et des ses Environs au XVI Siècle, 2 vols. (Paris: Imprimerie Nationale, 1905). While there are very few studies on specific fifteenth century French printers, there are several books on early sixteenth century printers and publishers, including: Fred Schreiber, Simon de Colines: An Annotated Catalogue of 230 examples of His Press, 1520-1546 (Provo, Utah: Friends of the Birgham Young University Library, 1995) and Elizabeth Armstrong, Robert Estienne Royal Printer: An Historical Study of the Elder Stephanus (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1954). 260 Febvre and Martin 114. 261 Quoted in Febvre and Martin 110. 262 Ibid. 110. 104 workshop belonging to a more significant printer, Didier Maheu, was valued at “351 livres” in an inventory of 1520. 263 Unlike Ferrebouc, Maheu owned “three presses equipped with an iron screw thread, platens, nuts and bolts, valued at 60 livres ; dies of gothic font, decorated with engraved figures, with two moulds, 24 livres; dies for casting a type called ‘Bourgeois,’ 12 livres; the same for a ‘Lettre de Somme’, 8 livres, and a ‘Some angélique, 7 livres, 8 sols; 8 founts, more or less worn, 122 livres.” 264 Finally, a workshop that belonged to W olfgang Hopyl, a famous printer known for producing theological works and school textbook, was valued at 700 livres in an inventory made after his death in 1523. 265 Hopyl’s workshop was equipped with “5 presses valued at 24 livres (46 livres with tympans); ten fonts in good condition valued around 36 livres; a great quantity of punches and particularly of dies valued at more than 200 livres; some ornamental letters, devices, wooden and copper engravings amounting to more than 75 livres.” 266 What does the information gleaned from inventory lists tells us? The press, as mentioned earlier, was not a huge investment and could be obtained relatively easily. According to the inventories the presses in Paris between 1520-1523 varied, based on their condition, from 9 to 20 livres, not a huge sum. Moreover, presses could be rented as well; in 1514 it was about 40 sols a year to lease one. 267 On the other hand, the purchase of type, which had to be renewed often, was pricey and posed a bigger problem to many printers. In the inventories mentioned above, the price of fonts varied from 10 to 70 livres “depending on the wear on the type face, and variety and importance of the font.” 268 The most expensive parts of the printing equipment, however, were the ornamental initials engraved first on wood and later on copper and the engraved plates which were fond only in the inventories of major printers, such as W olfgang Hopyl, that were used in Books of Hours and other 263 Ibid. 110. 264 Ibid. 110. 265 Ibid. 110. 266 Ibid. 110. For more information on Hopyl’s workshop see: Henri Stein, L’atelier typographique de Wolfgang Hopyl à Paris (Paris: H. Stein, 1891). 267 Ibid. 110. 268 Ibid.110. 105 specialized imprints. 269 Such equipment was so prized (and rare) that established libraire-publishers such as Antoine Vérard or Jean Petit, who were in possession of ornamental initials or engraved plates, would frequently loan or hire them out to printers employed by them. 270 To the list of expense, we also have to add the purchase of quality paper sufficient for printing, which was not cheap. In the early sixteenth century, the price of a ream of paper varied according to quality between 10 to 30 sols. 271 As Febvre and Martin explain, the purchase of “paper sufficient for printing one impression represented a large part of the total expenditure.” 272 As this evidence shows, depending on the kind of shop they were running, early printers required considerable resources to get established. 273 However, if a printer was also the publisher of the books he was printing, which was the case with Marchant, then his investment in his business was substantial. For example, in 1524 the same Didier Maheu mentioned above, printed 400 missals for the Bishop of Senils (Oise department, Northern France) for 350 livres – a total value of his printing enterprise (!). 274 In August of 1523, another printer from Paris produced 600 breviaries of the form approved in the diocese of Nevers for 300 livres, while Joost Bade’s edition of 1225 folio copies of Claude de Seyssel’s Thucydides required a whooping 612 livres 275 On the basis of this evidence, we can conclude that much more capital was needed to bring out a single edition than to equip a decent size printing workshop, all the more reasons to 269 Ibid. 111. 270 Ibid. 112. 271 Ibid. 112. 272 Ibid. 112. 273 Ibid. 111. 274 Ibid. 111. 275 Ibid 111. Joost Bade (also known as Badius Ascensius, Josse Bade or Jodocus Van Asche Badius) (1462-1535) was one of the main printer/publishers working in France in the sixteenth century. He was also a noted scholar and a writer. Initially, Bade worked in Lyons for the workshop of Jean Trechsel, but then moved to Paris and established his own shop in 1503. Bade’s most important business partner was the libarire-publisher Jean Petit. Bade’s edition of Thucydides was printed in March of 1528. For information on that edition see Ernest Coyecque, “Josse Bade et les Traductions de Claude de Seyssel,” Bibliothèque de l’école de chartes vol. 55 (1894): 509-514. 106 question Marchant’s decision to publish an expensive illustrated folio volume so early on in his career. W hat was his strategy? Did he have a financial backer or a publisher with whom he collaborated? In the early years of printing, books sold slowly and to dispose of an edition (the principal goal for every imprint) the printer was required to distribute his copies to the main European centers. 276 The dispersal of bookshops across Europe assured the spread of ideas and the exchange of texts and images that marked this transitional period, but it was still difficult to recoup quickly any capital locked up in the business. For this reason, it was crucial to discover a marketplace, ideally on the spot, and a line of books for which there was a sufficient demand. It was also important to put out a number of titles simultaneously to avoid risks resulting from a poor sale of a single volume, which in turn meant a higher investment of capital and raised an issue of finance. Unless they were independently wealthy – and we do not know if Marchant was at the time he started his business and published the Danse – the majority of printers needed financial backing from a specific institution or an individual to assure a successful run of their enterprise. 277 The latter model was employed by Guillaume Le Roy. As mentioned earlier, Le Roy set up the first printing press in Lyons with the help of Barthélemy Buyer. Buyer was not just backer in this business enterprise; he played an active part in the shop and actually chose the texts for printing. As printing industry developed in the 1480s other publishers began to copy this model, especially in Paris. The famous libraire-publishers, Jean Petit and Antoine Vérard, rarely printed any books themselves. Rather, they employed numerous printers – typically the best of the best – to print the books for them. Over the course of his career, Marchant collaborated 276 Febvre and Martin 115. 277 A great example of a failed printing enterprise can be found in an account of the career of Linehart Holle from Ulm whose workshop operated from spring 1482 to late 1483 during which time he published six imprints of deluxe illustrated books. Because he did not cater to the type of audience who purchased printed books in Ulm, he was forced to close his shop in late 1483, declare bankruptcy and was even banished from the town for his debts. This example also shows how quickly things could go bad for printers, Holle’s business failed in less than two years. See Tedeschi, “Publish and Perish.” 107 with both. In the 1480s, at the beginning of his vocation, he frequently worked for Vérard, printing illustrated books (including an edition of the Danse) in 1485/6 (?), 1488 (?), 1489, and 1493. Vérard is best known for publishing lavish editions intended for the upper class clientle and for creating the market for printed Books of Hours in Paris. 278 W hat Vérard achieved was quite ingenious; he relied on the long-standing tradition of manuscript production in Paris, and adapted it to the new medium of print. From his two shops, one located on the Notre Dame bridge, the other in the Palais of the Cité, in a very privileged position in front of the Sainte-Chapelle, Vérard employed scribes and printers to work on a new format – the illustrated book. 279 Over the course of his career, which spanned from 1485 –1512, Vérard published over 280 editions, a quarter of which were printed Books of Hours. 280 Prayer books became the bestseller of the new printing industry and Paris led the way, just as it did in the age of illuminated manuscripts. Printers in Paris, first led by Vérard, produced Books of Hours for customers all over France and as far away as England and Flanders. 281 Marchant had printed at least one Horae for Vérard in January of 1489/90. 282 It is also believed that he worked exclusively for Vérard in the period between July of 278 The most complete study on Vérard’s career and publications is Mary Beth W inn, Anthoine Vérard Parisian Publisher, 1485-1512: Prologues, Poems and Presentations (Geneva: Droz, 1997). For an extensive list of publications on Vérard or his books, see W inn 508-511. An earlier monograph on Vérard was written in the early twentieth century and does contain some faulty remarks, see also John Macfarlane, Antoine Vérard (London: Chiswick Press, 1990). The link between Vérard’s printed Books of Hours and illuminated manuscripts is explored in Delauney’s thesis. 279 W inn 16. Unlike Marchant or printers who set up their shops near Rue St Jacques, Vérard’s two stores were located in the center of scribal book production. Moreover, both shops operated under the sign of St John the Evangelist, patron saint of scribes and by extension of the book industry in general. 280 Ibid. 15. 281 Reinburg 29. W hile Vérard led the way for printed Books of Hours, other important printers of prayer books were Simon Vostre, Phillipe Pigouchet and Thielman Kerver. 282 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 94. 108 1486 and March of 1489/90 – the second recorded interlude in his career – when he mostly produced illustrated books. 283 Marchant had an even closer relationship with Petit who must have been his business partner and for whom Marchant printed a number of works. Despite his upbringing, Petit became the leader of the Paris book trade at the end of the fifteenth and in the early sixteenth century. As Febvre and Martin explain, “[f]rom 1493 to 1530 he published more than a thousand books, most of them of major importance, amounting to one tenth of the entire output of the Paris trade.” 284 Petit collaborated with many early printers and his shop sold a wide range of books: in Latin or French, illustrated and not illustrated, secular and religious and expensive or cheap. 285 Most crucially, Petit was also one of the four official booksellers/publishers of the University of Paris, the main publisher for its students and one of the individuals most responsible for the diffusion of humanism in Paris. 286 As such, Petit really was the ideal business partner for Marchant. As an official bookseller for the University he could easily disperse Marchant’s theological and humanist tracts to clientele beyond the College of Navarre but he could also act as a financial backer and distributor of Marchant’s more risky endeavors, namely his illustrated books. Marchant published at least twenty-four books for Petit and, from 1500 he seems to have only worked for him. 287 It also appears that in 1493 Marchant temporarily transferred some of his stock to Petit’s store because books printed in July, September and December of that year (including an edition of the Kalendrier), include a reference to the store located at the sign of the Fleur de Lys in the Rue St Jacques, which was Petit’s establishment. 288 W hether Marchant published the works 283 Ibid 71. During the three years interlude, Marchant did not print an edition under his name. The belief that he worked for Vérard during this time is based on the appearance of Marchant’s typefaces in between two and five of Vérard’s books published during this time. 284 Febvre and Martin 121. 285 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 83. Given Petit’s role in the Paris book trade during the transitional period, it is surprising that as of yet no detail account of his career has been written. 286 Febvre and Marin 121. 287 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 82 and BMC xxv. 288 BCM xxv. 109 at Petit’s store or just sold them there is unclear, but this example further testifies to the close businesses connection Marchant established with the book magnate. 289 Did Marchant finance the first edition of the Danse alone? W ithout specific archival documents, we can only speculate, but it seems likely that he would need a financier or a partner at least. The fall of 1485 seems to have been an important moment for the history of illustrated books in France. Marchant had published the Danse and Vérard had issued the first edition of the Horae on September 12, which was also his very first recorded publication. 290 Two months later, in November of 1485, Vérard hired Du Pré, the printer of the first illustrated book in Paris, to print an edition of Boccaccio’s Decameron. 291 The market for illustrated books in Paris was thus developing rapidly and it all revolved around Vérard. Besides Du Pré, Vérard had also collaborated closely with printer/woodcutter Pierre Le Rouge on several editions of the Horae printed between 1486 and 1488 and an undated edition of the Art de bien mourir (The Art of Dying). 292 W e will recall that Le Rouge made woodcuts for Du Pré’s first illustrated book and that he is often credited for designing the illustrations used in the first edition of the Danse. 293 Moreover, according to Claudin, 289 Marchant frequently sold his stock at Petit’s store – and also at the bookstores of other libraires such as Geoffroy de Marnef, Alexander Aliate and Denis Roce, since these shops were located on Rue St Jacques – in the main hub for printed books and closer to the Sorbonne proper. 290 W inn 15. 291 Ibid. 17. The type used for the Decameron belonged to Du Pré. 292 Ibid. 17. Some of Le Rouge’s woodcuts were also transferred over to Vérard’s shop. 293 Le Rouge came from Chablis, from a family of calligraphers and woodcutters, and moved to Paris sometime in the mid 1480s when he began to work as a printer as well La Rouge had a close connection with the bookseller Vincent Commin, for whom he printed and possibly also partially illustrated the most ambitious illustrated French incunabulum, La Mer des histories (The Sea of Histories) in 1488/89. This publication, which consists of almost 600 leaves printed on vellum and hand- illuminated, is the French translation of a universal chronicle entitled Rudimentum novitiorum (A Handbook of Beginners) first printed in Lübeck by Lucas Brandis in 1475. The book was presented to Charles VIII and besides the French translation of the Rudimentum included added texts, most notably a genealogy of the kings of France extending to the coronation of Charles VIII in 1484. During this period, Le Rouge was the official printer of the king and signed his colophons with the title imprimeur du roi. 110 the type used in Marchant’s first publications, including the Danse, is similar in style to Du Pré’s type, suggesting perhaps that the two printers had collaborated at some point. 294 W e know that Marchant worked exclusively for Vérard in the late 1480s and Hindman also suggests that Marchant’s second edition of the Danse, published between September 1485 and June 1486, was printed for Vérard, so it is possible that the libraire was involved in the creation of the first edition as well. 295 This seems all the more likely since Vérard had published his own editions of the Danse macabre books: 1485/86 (?) (printed by Marchant), 1491/92 (printed by Pierre Le Rouge) and 1492 (printed by Gillet Coteau and possibly also Jean Menard) – and thus clearly had an interest in the series. Importantly, Vérard’s editions only include the Danse macabre des hommes and the Three Living with no additional texts or figures. Vérard also used woodcuts that are different from Marchant’s and his editions, as I will elaborate in the fifth chapter, were addressed at the nobility and the upper class clientele. For example, the edition printed by Le Rouge in 1491/92, was originally intended as a placard, hence its unusual size (56cm x 40cm), and it was part of the royal library of King Charles VIII at the Château de Blois (Figs. 22 and 23). 296 The edition printed by Coteau and Menard is equally impressive, printed on parchment and hand colored to mimic illuminated manuscripts (Fig. 21). Why did Marchant decide to publish an illustrated book on the Dance of Death? W hat made the subject so appealing to Marchant and later other printers that they would decide to make multiple editions of the books? W hy the Danse and not some other subject? Part of the appeal, as I argued in the first chapter, has to do with the composition of the work – it portrays different classes, laymen and ecclesiasts, and it relies on satire and didactic verses to make its point. The composition, as well, depends on a close relationship between text and image, which made it ideal an ideal subject matter for an illustrated book. 294 Claudin, Histoire de l’imprimerie 336. As Claudin explains the font that Marchant used for his early publications was based on the Gothic script used in the missals of Du Pré. 295 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 94. 296 This edition is preserved at the BN as Rés. Te 8. 111 On the other hand, Marchant had a keen ability to interpret the market and anticipate trends, which must have been a factor in his decision to print the Danse. In December of 1483, he published an edition of the Ars moriendi, already popular in Europe, and knew there was a market for books dealing with death and dying. Illustrated books published in France up to that point have either taken up Italian authors (Du Pré’s edition of Le cas, for instance) or depicted popular devotional works. For example, the Speculum (or the Mirouer), the first illustrated book printed in France, belongs to the same genre of books as the Danse. 297 As Adrian W ilson and Joyce Lancaster W ilson explain, “[i]n its text and pictures the Speculum contains a vivid account of the religious and artistic forces at work in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, when the lessons in piety, the allegories, and all of the arts were devoted to instilling in the minds of the people the need for salvation and the dread of eternal damnation.” 298 W hile the Danse is not concerned with typology, its basic premise emphasizes the transient nature of earthly life and demonstrates the importance of piety and repentance. The Danse captures the moment of physical death and shows what happens to the body after it dies, but the verses allude to the same theological notions as the Speculum books: the Last Judgment, damnation and the possibility of salvation. It is thus not surprising that when in 1486 Marchant began to expand the series by adding additional titles and images, he chose the subjects that would address the fate of the soul after death (The Debate Between the Body and the Soul, The Complaint of the Damned Soul). As discussed in the previous chapter, the format of the Danse and the Speculum books is also similar. Like the Dance of Death, the Speculum featured two woodcuts per page and included text printed in double columns below. W hile Husz’s 1478 edition contains simple, unframed woodcuts, more typical versions of the book, printed throughout W estern Europe, include the page layout that is almost identical to the one used in the Danse macabre books. In the Speculum books, the typological pairs, or scenes taken from the Old and the New Testament are framed with embellished arches and columns (the middle column separates the scenes) and 297 See footnote 156. 298 W ilson and W ilson 10. 112 the text is written in double columns and placed below the images. The similarity in the design of Speculm books and Marchant’s first edition of the Danse suggests that the French printer had at least seen some of the Latin editions. The word speculum, which means mirror or reflection, was used in the titles of many medieval compendia such as the famous Speculum eecleasie of Honorious of Autun (written in c. 1213-14), the Speculum Maius of Vincent of Beauvais (written in mid thirteenth century) or the Speculum vitae humanae of Rodericus Zamorensis (written in 1468). 299 Such works were inspired by the desire to encompass a vast, encyclopedic knowledge within a single text and were hugely popular both in scribal and print culture. It is not incidental therefore that by the time Marchant had issued the first edition of the Danse macabre des femmes in July of 1486 he named it Miroir salutaire (Salutary mirror) – it was a clever advertising strategy and a way to link his publication to some of the most celebrated texts of the later Middle Ages. 300 When Marchant published the first edition of the Danse, macabre sensibility was still prevalent in the art and literature of late-medieval France. Fifteenth-century prayer books frequently featured the Dance of Death or other macabre scenes in the section dedicated to the prayers for the dead. As discussed in the previous chapter, in 1470, the Abbey church of La Chaise-Dieu was decorated with a mural depicting the Dance of Death. In the same year, a moralistic and allegorical poem, Le mors de la põme, was illustrated in a single manuscript preserved at the BN (MS. fr. 17001) (henceforth the Mors). 301 Best described as an expanded Dance of Death, the Mors begins with the Garden of Eden when Death first entered the world. W e then follow Death through different vignettes, which illustrate apocryphal events (Death receives the instruments of his office, Death kills Abel while Cain, the indirect agent of Death, 299 Ibid. 9. 300 Also, in 1482, printers Nicolas Phlippi and Marcus Reinhardt from Lyons published Le miroir de la vie humaine by Zamorensis, which included plates showing representatives of specific trades: physicians, notaries, farmers, etc. Like the Danse, this book demonstrates late fifteenth century predilections towards portrayal of social classes. 301 For a discussion of this manuscript see Leonard Kurtz ed., Le mors de la Põme (New York: Publications of the Institute of French Studies, 1975). 113 appears armed with a cudgel) and secular scenes (Death kills the Pope, Death takes away an infant) (Fig. 33). As Leonard Kurtz explains: The miniature and the accompanying text form an interesting link in the historical development of the motif of the Dance of Death theme in art and literature. W e observe that the Danse macabre has been drawn up as a base, and that the theme has now been expanded in several directions. 302 Like the Danse, the Mors includes the figure of the Author and the verses are also set up as a dialogue between Death (La mort) and the protagonsts. Although the living figures in the Mors are not always arranged in a hierarchical order, many of the same characters that appear in the Danse are also present in the manuscript. 303 However, as Kurtz points out, Death in the Mors differs from the cadavers in the Danse in that it is a single personified figure of Death. 304 The poem also includes representations of female protagonists (the Queen, the Princess and the Young Girl, for example), which were not featured in the mural at the Innocents. French late fifteenth century poets frequently wrote on death and other morose subject matter. The works of the best French poet of the later Middle Ages, François Villon (d. 1463) were still popular and often published by early printers, including Marchant. In 1484 Olivier de la Marche wrote Le chevalier deliberé (Resolute knight), another moralistic poem that described the last travels of a knight, including his encounter with Death. 305 The book enjoyed great popularity at the time and was illustrated in manuscripts and printed books, including an edition that Marchant printed for Vérard in June of 1488. Elsewhere in Europe, macabre subjects were also taken up by early printers. One of the very first illustrated books 302 Ibid. v. 303 For example, the King, the Cardinal, the Peasant and the Lover are featured both in the Danse and in the Mors. 304 Ibid. v. 305 On Oliver de la Marche see Catherine Emerson, Olivier de la Marche and the rhetoric of fifteenth century historiography (Rochester, N.Y.: Boydell Press, 2004) and Olivier de la Marche, Le chevalier délibéré, intro. and trans. Sylviane Messerli (Paris: Presses universitaires de France, 2004). 114 printed in Europe was Albrecht Pfister’s Der Ackermann aus Böhmen (The Ploughman of Bohemia) published in Bamberg in c. 1462. W ritten around 1401, Der Ackermann, like the Danse, is composed as a dialogue between the figure of the ploughman and Death and was portrayed in illuminated manuscripts before Pfister made his first printed edition. The ploughman – a long-standing symbol of Bohemian kings – accuses Death for taking his wife, Margaretha, and the two exchange views on mankind, morality and life. 306 In choosing to print the Danse macabre, Marchant was therefore responding to the demand of the market for books exploring variations on macabre themes. In addition, one of the most popular subject matters in the early years of printing were books that promoted piety and penance, like the Imitation of Christ by Thomas à Kempis. Treatises by the French theologians Jean Gerson (d. 1429) and Nicolas de Clamanges (d. 1437) were also popular and Marchant actually published works by both authors. 307 Interestingly, Gerson and de Clamanges were alumni of the College of Navarre and thus it is especially appropriate that Marchant frequently published their texts since he printed works for the College. Although never officially confirmed, Gerson and de Clamanges, or someone from their intellectual circle, are also often credited for composing the verses that accompanied the Danse macabre mural from the Innocents. 308 This assumption is based on the fact that the manuscript (BN Ms. lat. 14904), which contains the transcribed verses from the Innocents, also includes tracts by Gerson and de Clamanges. Moreoever, the verses of the Danse poem, especially the Author’s prolouge and the epilogue, contain theologic al and devotional ideas that are often found in the writings of Gerson and de Clamanges. Is it possible 306 For the text of the poem see Death and the Plowman; or, The Bohemian Plowman; a disputation and consolatory dialogue about death from the year 1400 (Chapel Hill University of North Carolina, 1958). 307 For example, Marchant printed Gerson’s Conclusiones de diversis materiis moralibus in 1484, 1489/90, and 1497/98. He also published Gerson’s De ecclesiastica potestate et De origine juris et legum tractatus in 1484. In 1490, Marchant published works by de Clamanges, Tractatus super exhortatione peccatoris ad poenitentiam and Latinum super duabus materiis divresis. 308 See, for instance, Clark 28-29 and Ann Tukey Harrison, “The Text,” The Danse Macabre of Women Ms. fr. 995 of the Bibliothèque nationale, ed. Ann Tukey Harrison (Kent, Ohio and London, England: The Kent State UP, 1994): 1-14, 7-8. 115 then that there is a connection between the College of Navarre, where the potential authors of the poem studied and where the printer who issued the first edition of the books worked, and the Danse macabre poem? More research is needed before any conclusions can be made, but it is a point worth investigating further. Marchant’s gamble with the first edition must have paid off, if we are to judge by his subsequent publications. Between September of 1485 and June of 1486, he published the second edition of the Danse, virtually the same as the first and likely printed for Vérard, another reason to suspect that the libraire was more directly involved in printing the series. 309 Then, in June of 1486, came the augmented edition of Danse, with six additional woodcuts that Marchant named La danse macabre nouvelle (Figs. 34 and 35). To complete the edition he had to invest even more capital into the series – it was necessary to hire an artist (not Le Rouge because he was unavailable at the time working on another volume, but perhaps someone from his workshop) to engrave the woodcuts and a writer to compose the verses. Just a month later, in July, Marchant published the third (or technically the fourth) edition of the Danse, which is actually a completely original work, the Dance of Death of women. 310 Since no female characters were included in the Cemetery of the Innocents mural, Marchant had a chance to invent the whole series. By this time, he also began the practice of appending additional illustrated texts, such as the Debate and the Complainte no doubt to broaden the appeal of the books and showcase his talent as an editor of tract volumes. The first edition of the Danse macabre des femmes, which Marchant named the Miroir salutaire, seems hastily published as it included the complete verses of the poem, but only two woodcuts. It is likely that Marchant, recognizing the popularity of the books, wanted to claim the market for the Danse books for himself and hastily issued the first edition of the women’s series before he was able to secure funds for the full set of wooducts. Such strategizing was typical for early printers and reveals the precarious nature of the industry. In order to maintain and expand the public interest in his publications, Marchant had to opt for versatility and 309 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 94. 310 See footnote 4. 116 innovation, hence the creation of the women’s series as a complementary edition to the men’s Danse, but because he was competing with other printers of illustrated works it was also important to issue the new edition quickly, even if it was missing the majority of woodcuts. How-to-live and How-to-die: The Shepherd’s Calendar and the Danse macabre Marchant’s more concentrated work came in the 1490s when he published between six and nine books a year; though in exceptionally good years (1494, 1498 and 1499) he published as many as thirteen to fifteen. 311 His first book published following the hiatus of the late 1480s was a reprint of Bonaventura’s Soliloquium. It is during this period, in the 1490s, that Marchant established his practice of publishing short tracts intended for the (typically) poor students of the College of Navarre. These included theological texts by Gerson, de Clémanges and Raymond Lull, but also “time-honored classics in grammar and philosophy, such as works by Barzizius and Nebrissensis, who had recently been acclaimed in Paris, and by Aristotle and Diogenes, who were old favorites.” 312 Among the established titles of grammar and theology, Marchant’s repertoire also included texts by contemporary humanist writers. For example, he published letters by Erasmus, who in late 1490s was a student at the College of Montaigu in Paris, and by Pico della Mirandola, a famous humanist scholar. 313 Marchant also published treatises by Jacques Lefèvre d’Etaple, a pre-Reformation humanist and a professor at the University of Paris and works containing postscripts or edited by Jodocus Clichtoveus, the humanist scholar who became librarian of the Sorbonne in 1505. 314 Many of these new authors had never had their works published in manuscript form – an example of how instrumental the medium of print was for the spread of Renaissance ideals at the 311 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 71. 312 Ibid. 80 313 Ibid. 80. 314 Ibid. 80. 117 turn of the century. 315 That Marchant had published these works also suggests that he was in contact with the humanist scholars in Paris and thus at the forefront of the new ways of thinking. Marchant’s relationship with the humanists may have also sparked his interest in science and, especially, in the works on astronomy, astrology and medicine. He published books on mathematics, such as a folio edition of the popular Sphera mundi by Johannes de Sacro Busto and two texts on speculative arithmetic and geometry by the fourteenth-century English prelate and theologian, Thomas Bradwardine, Arithmetica speculativa and Geometria speculativa. No other copies of Bradwardine were published before 1500, not even in England, which again highlights Marchant’s ability to predict or popularize specific titles. 316 In 1490, Marchant published the Regimen sanitatis salernitanum (The Salernitan Rule of Health), a medieval didactic poem concerned with domestic medical practice such as hygiene, proper diet and the science of phlebotomy, or bloodletting (henceforth the Regimen). His press also put out at least one edition of Anianus’s Computus cum commento, printed for Petit in 1497. Provided with a prose commentary and elementary arithmetic, the Computus was hugely popular in France in the early years of printing; it was published in at least thirty-one editions (printed in Paris, Lyons and Rouen) as opposed to only three in other countries. Though the purpose of my project is to understand the Danse macabre books in the context of the early printing culture, we should not forget that this period is located on the cusp of major advances in the fields of anatomy and medicine and that the printed books contributed to the spread of medical knowledge – and very crucially – medical illustrations and diagrams that became so important in the mid-sixteenth century with the publication of Andreas Vesalius’s De humani corporis fabrica in 1543. Anianus’s text, for example, is famous for its diagram of the human hand, which explains how the hand can be used as a mnemonic device. 317 315 Ibid. 80. 316 Ibid 80. 317 For a discussion of hands as mnemonic devices see Claire Richter Sherman and Peter M. Lukehart, eds., Writing on Hands: Memory and Knowledge in Early Modern Europe (Seattle: W ashington UP, 2000). 118 It is in the context of his scientific and medical publications, that I would place Marchant’s second illustrated bestseller, the Kalendrier, which he published at least eight times between 1491 and c. 1501. 318 Since, as I will show, the Kalendrier draws important parallels to the Danse and actually includes the Danse macabre des femmes cycle in one of its editions (published in 1499), it is important to consider it here in some detail. Moreover, like the augmented editions of the Danse, the Kalendrier is a publication assembled by Marchant from multiple sources, textual and visual, which are then skillfully edited into a cohesive volume. As such, it represents a new type of book that surfaced during the transitional period of bookmaking in France, an anthology for which, in the words of Jane Taylor, the printer provides “an elaborate narrative-editorial context” and formulates connections between disparate sections in order to guide the reader. 319 A precursor to modern day almanac, the Kalendrier is a compendium of practical and religious lore aimed at a wider reading public. It typically consists of five parts: “The Calendar”, which includes the prologue of the Author and the Master Shepherd, the Calendar proper and the Labors of the Month and tables that provide instructions on how to calculate movable feasts; a section on the Trees of Vices and Virtues and the Pains of Hell; “Salutary Science and the Garden of Virtues”, which includes specific Christian prayers such as the Credo, the Ten Commandments and the Five Commandments of the Church; “Of Physics and Governance of Health”, 318 Given the fact that the Kalendrier is one of the most popular illustrated books in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, it is surprising that it has not been studied in much detail in the past. The most recent publication includes a facsimile of Marchant’s 1493 edition, see Calendrier des Bergers, intro. Max Engammare (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2008).This book also includes a full list of known imprints of the Kalendrier with detailed description of each edition, 41-49; Marie- Dominique Leclerc, “Le macabre des Calendriers des Bergers,” 11e Congrès International d’études sur les Danses macabres et l’art macabre en general (2003):107-133; Guy Marchant and G. C. Heseltine, Calendar and Compost of Shepherd (London: Peter Davis, 1930), this book includes a facsimile of the English translation from c. 1518; Le Compost et Kalendrier des Bergiers: Reproduction en fac-simile ed l’edition de Guy Marchant (Paris, 1493), intro. Pierre Champion (Paris: Editions des Quatre Chemins, 1926). 319 Jane H. M. Taylor, “A Priest of Poetry to the People: Antoine Vérard and the Anthology,” The Making of Poetry: Late-Medieval French Poetic Anthologies (Turnhout, Belgium: Brepols, 2007): 229-291, 230. 119 which discusses anatomy, physiognomy and phlebotomy and includes practical advice on healing and medicine; and “Astrology and Physiognomy”, dedicated to the twelve signs of the Zodiac and their relation to the human body. W hile the Kalendrier, unlike the Danse, does not include illustrations on every page, it features many large woodcuts and a number of religious, scientific and medical diagrams. The text and the majority of illustrations included in the Kalendrier are assembled from multiple sources, but the idea for the book is likely Marchant’s own. 320 It is occasionally suggested that the Kalendrier originated in Germany, but this has never been confirmed and no German sources predating Marchant’s first edition in 1491 have been found. Given Marchant’s predilection for putting together compendia of shorter, thematically related tracts and his interest in publishing sources on mathematics and astrology, it is seems very probable that Marchant had indeed ‘invented’ this book. Like the Danse, the Kalendrier proved to be an incredibly successful publication. Marchant printed the work multiple times over the course of the fifteenth century – a sure sign the book was selling. In addition, Marchant printed the book for other printers, most notably Petit, and he famously collaborated with Vérard on a deluxe edition of the Kalendrier from 1493 which was printed on parchment and intended for King Charles VIII (BN Vélins – 518). 321 The title was so popular that in1503 Vérard translated the book into English and began to distribute it through his London outpost. 322 In France as well, the title was popular and often reprinted by different presses through the sixteenth century. 323 320 Heseltine v. 321 For an electronic facsimile of this edition see http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b86267664 322 For the first English edition see The Kalendar of Shepherds The Edition of Paris 1503 in Photographic Facsimile. A Faithful Reprint of R. Pynson’s Edition of London 1506. Edited with a Critical Introduction and Glossary by H. Oskar Sommer, PhD (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trübner & CO., Ltd., 1892). 323 For the most recent list of sixteenth century edition of the Kalendrier see Andrew Pettegree, Malcom W alsby and Alexander S. W ilkinson, French Vernacular Books: Books Published in the French Language before 1601, 2 vols. (Leiden: Brill, 2007) especially pages 242-243. 58 editions of the book were printed from 1491 to c.1597. 120 In its general theme, the Kalendrier can be understood as a complementary book to the Danse and it should not surprise us to learn that the two titles were often found in the libraries belonging to the same owners. 324 Both are, in a sense, how-to- manuals. W hile the Danse reminds us of the inevitability of death and the importance of reaching salvation through devotion, the Kalendrier is, conversely, a practical guide listing ways to extend our earthly life. The purpose of the Kalendrier is made obvious from the very first page. In the opening paragraph of the prologue of the Author, we learn that “the thing we desire most in this world is to live long, and the thing that we most fear is to die soon.” And since, as the Author explains, a man should live in the course of nature to seventy-two years, the Kalendrier with its practical advice and useful diagrams shows the reader how to achieve this goal. However, maintaining a healthy body is not the book’s sole concern. Rather, the Kalendrier emphasizes the dual nature of body and soul and offers as much advice – via prayers, diagrams and vivid illustrations – on how to protect the soul and prepare for the afterlife as it does on human anatomy or physiognomy. For example, the second chapter is dedicated to the study of vices and virtues and includes dramatic illustrations of the sinners in Hell, their bodies – the source of their moral corruption – being broken, pierced, bitten and boiled by devils and serpents (Figs. 36 and 37). The striking woodcuts, most likely designed by Pierre La Rouge, are taken from Vérard’s edition of the Ars moriendi, which Marchant had printed several times prior to 1491. The presence of Vérard’s woodcuts and the fact that Marchant had printed the deluxe edition of the Kalendrier for Vérard just two years later implies that the libraire was probably more directly involved in the making of this book. Did Vérard offer financial backing or other form of support to Marchant? 325 This seems 324 As Hindman noted “one third of the owners of the Dance of Death also owned the Shepherd’s Calendar, so it would seem that the two works were considered comparable by the book buyers and readers of the period,” 91. 325 In discussing the deluxe editions Marchant completed for Vérard, Hindman suggested that the profit Marchant made on the expensive editions for royal and aristocratic patrons may have been the basis for his financial success, 90. Perhaps Vérard offered some financial backing for the first edition and helped further by procuring the commission for Charles VIII. 121 likely given the fact that the Kalendrier was en expensive book and, at the time of its original publication, a novel work and thus a risky undertaking. The textual sources Marchant drew from in compiling the Kalendrier are varied and not always traceable. 326 This is in part what makes the book so appealing – it is an amalgam of texts and images derived from multiple sources and different periods that are put together in a completely new way by a savvy compiler. I have already mentioned the Computus com commento and the Regimen sanitatis as sources for specific sections of the book, but a few others have also been identified. The Trees of Vices and Virtues have been a popular subject in medieval art and literature, though the text used in Marchant’s book likely stems from the work of Friar Laurentius Gallus for Philip II, entitled Le Somme des Vices et des Vertus. The idea for the book and the Shepherd as the main character is probably derived from a treatise written in c. 1379 by Jehan de Brie. Known as Le Bon Berger or Le vrai régime et gouvernement des Bergers et Bergères, it was one of the earliest how-to manuals, which provided information regarding farming practices. 327 Divided into thirty-nine chapters, de Brie’s book offered advice on how to take care of sheep in different weather conditions, a monthly guide on what to do with the flock and information regarding ways to protect the animals from disease. 328 The popular prayers of the Credo, Pater, Ave and the Commandments that were featured in the third section derive from L’Art de bien vivre et morir, a translation of the Ars moriendi. Besides the Computus, in compiling the section on astrology, Marchant relied on the work of Regiomontanus (Johannes Müller von Königsberg, d. 1476), a German mathematician, astronomer and astrologer. 329 326 Heseltine vii 327 For a recent discussion of de Brie’s book see Carlton W . Carroll and Lois Hawley Wilson, The Medieval Shepherd: Jean de Brie’s Le Bon Berger (1379) (Arizona State University, 2012). 328 Although written in the fourteenth century, de Brie’s title became popular again in the early sixteenth century (perhaps because of the Kalendrier?) and was printed in Paris by Denis Jahnot and Jean Trepperel, who also published sixteenth century editions of the Danse. Parenthetically, the shepherd as a figure frequently appeared in the literature of the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries when it was typically used as a way to lament the agrarian reforms and the changing social order. 329 Engrammare 14. 122 Like the text, the images used in the Kalendrier are complied from various sources. W oodcuts illustrating the Labors of the Month are based on the images from printed Books of Hours, while, as mentioned earlier, representations of Hell are borrowed from the Ars moriendi. The image of the Author comes from the Danse macabre des femmes, while a striking woodcut depicting Death on a Horse and the Mouth of Hell – which may have been initially made for the first edition of the Kalendrier – appears in several Dance of Death books as well (Fig. 38). As an amalgam of texts and images, the Kalendrier is thus a true product of the transitional period drawing inspiration from both manuscript and printed sources. The book is perhaps best known for its diagrammatic images of the human body and celestial spheres. A particularly curious image, which marries Marchant’s interest in the macabre with his knowledge of anatomy and medicine, is the Human Skeleton (or Zodiac Skeleton) featured in the fourth section of the Kalendrier (Fig. 39). The full-page woodcut portrays the influence of the planets on dif ferent parts of the human skeleton. The image is based on the so-called bloodletting figures (Vein Man) and, especially, on the Zodiac Man (Homo signorum) that were popular in late medieval manuscripts. 330 Both diagrams are included in the Kalendrier, the Zodiac Man typically precedes the Human Skeleton and the bloodletting figure follows it. 331 330 For a discussion on the bloodletting figure and the zodiac man see Peter Murray Jones, Medieval Medical Miniatures (Austin and London: University of Texas and The British Library 1984) and Peter W hitfield, Astrology: A History (London: The British Library, 2001). The most thorough discussion of the origins and the usage of the zodiac man diagrams is still found in the following article: Harry Bober, “The Zodiacal Miniature of the Très Riches Heures of the Duke of Berry: Its Sources and Meaning,” Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes vol. 11 (1948): 1-34. These types of anatomical diagrams were also often included in the folding calendar (vade mecum) made for medieval physicians. They were made from six or more small pieces of parchment, folded together in the middle and then folded again into sections. The pages were then sewn together at the bottom and the calendar was carried in a pouch at the belt were they could be accessed quickly. 331 For example, in the edition Marchant printed on April 18, 1493, the Zodiac Man appears on the first page of the fourth section of the book, on folio h i , the Human Skeleton is depicted on h ii and the bloodletting figure is placed on h iii verso. The Zodiac Man and the Vein Man are complementary images it was believed that one should not engage in bloodletting or any other type of treatment of a particular part of a body if the Moon stood in the Zodiac sign that governed that body part. The 123 In Marchant’s rendition, the human skeleton is surrounded with wavy banderoles, which link specific body parts (or bones) to different planets and with two long scrolls placed on either side that provide instruction on how best to use the diagram. As Peter Parshall has shown, Marchant’s Human Skeleton is similar in style and content to a German woodcut of the same title printed in Nuremburg in 1493. 332 The German cut is believed to have come from the estate of the Nuremburg physician, Hartmann Schedel (d.1514), who owned several copies of the diagram, two of them glued into a manuscript containing medical texts. 333 Together with Marchant’s woodcut printed the same year, Schedel’s diagram is one of the earliest depictions of the human skeleton and as such, as Parshall and Schoch note, it “represents a milestone in the history of anatomical illustrations before Vesalius.” 334 The figure of the skeleton, with the left arm bent slightly, and the usage of the descriptive banderoles, imply that Marchant’s and Schedel’s woodcuts are based on the same model. 335 The xylographic text placed in the upper register of the German woodcut, identifies the French physician, Richard Helain, as the author of the image. Helain was the Dean of the medical faculty at the University of Paris from 1485 to 1488 and served as King Charles VIII’s personal physician from 1491 to 1496. He argued that the human skeleton, including the teeth, consists of 248 bones, identified in the German cut by the banderoles in Latin or the transliterated Greek or Arabic. In the sprit of the humanistic science, Helain derived his ideas from late Zodiac Man thus functioned as a visual mnemonic for use in phlebotomy. On the science of astrology and its usage in late Medieval and Renaissance Europe se Whitfield, especially pages 77-114. 332 Discussed and reproduced in Parshall and Schoch 216.Further discussion on the history of the Human Skeleton diagram can be found in Christian Coppens, “For the Benefit of the Ordinary People: The Translation of the Fasciculus medicinae, Antwerp 1512,” Quaerendo 39. 2 (2009): 168-205. 333 Parshall and Schoch 216. 334 Ibid. 216. However, this is not the first representation of the human skeleton in a medical book. A frontispiece to a German translation of the Chirurgia Magna of Bruno da Longoburgo from 1452 features one of the most naturalistic pictures of a skeleton in the Middle Ages, but this was a manuscript not a printed book. The manuscript is now preserved at the British Library as Additional MS 21618, the skeleton is shown on folio 1v. For information on the miniature see Murray Jones 46-48. 335 Parshall and Schoch 216. 124 classical and Arabic texts that fell out of use in the Middle Ages, but were gainin g in popularity in the late fifteenth century. 336 This is especially true for Italy where, from the fourteenth century onward, attempts were made at most universities to revive the practice of anatomy by performing autopsies, even though they were banned by the Church. Since it features fewer banderoles, Marchant’s image may appear less scientific or instructional, but the text that accompanies the woodcut implies that, it too, was based on Helain’s study of the skeleton. Titled Les noms des os du corps humain et le nombre diceuly qui sont en somme deux cens xlviii, the caption makes reference to same number of bones as the German cut, 248. That Marchant was familiar with Helain’s work is certain. The printer’s close link with the University and the circle humanist scholars working in Paris has already been discussed. In addition, Marchant’s interest in mathematical and scientific treatises would have also made him aware of the new teachings at the Faculty of Medicine. Marchant’s inclusion of the Human Skeleton in the Kalendrier showcases his ability to fuse together seemingly disparate subjects, an editing strategy that marked his illustated editions. The diagram follows the section of the book, which depicts the scenes of torture and pains of Hell (Figs. 36 and 37). In those images, the body is identified as the source of moral corruption and the naked bodies of the sinners are hence subjected to unimaginable suffering. Likewise, in macabre art, it is the body that is continually degraded; seen as a source of vermin and stench. While Marchant’s Human Skeleton is not a macabre image per say, the mocking grin and the strings of hair on the back of the skull (not shown in the German woodcutcut) certainly reference macabre sensibility (Fig. 39). In fact, the Human S keleton is preceded in the volume by a woodcut showing Death and the Mouth of Hell – featuring another grinning skeleton with thinning hair – one that Marchant (and later other printers) also incorporated into editions of the Dance of Death books published in the 1490s (Fig. 38). However, in the Zodiac Skeleton diagram, the body is treated differently than in macabre art or scenes showing Hell and Punishment (Fig. 39). No longer a threatening, putrid corpse, the skeleton is controlled by stars, which govern its every 336 Ibid. 216. 125 part and consideration of it will promote health. In Marchant’s woodcut, as in the German image, the body becomes the source of knowledge and the basis for an emerging science of anatomy. Interestingly, Schedel, the owner of the German cut, was the author of the famous Liber Chronicarum (Nuremberg Chronicle), which was also published in 1493 by Anton Koberger. 337 One of the most lavishly illustrated early printed books, the Liber is an encyclopedia of biblical and human histories as well as a chronicle of several important W estern cities. Among its many illustrations, diagrams and maps, is the so-called Imago mortis – a woodcut that depicts a lively dance of death of human skeletons resurrected at the Last Judgment and expressing joys of having escaped the imprisonment of the body. 338 This image – about which much can be said – is another adaptation of the Danse and together with Marchant’s Human Skeleton, demonstrates how the image of death was beginning to take on new meanings and circulate in different contexts (religious, but also medical and astrological) at the end of the century. One more comment about the body: in the German woodcut, the registers containing information about the image are placed in the two upper corners. In Marchant’s image, however, the registers are turned into two long scrolls that are placed on either side of the main figure. In order to look at the figure and read the text, the viewer/reader has to manipulate his body or turn the book around. In so doing, Marchant pulls the viewer into the image and makes him explore the diagram the same way a physician would explore the corpse, by moving around it, touching and probing. The same strategy was employed several times in the Kalendrier, mostly for diagrammatic images. In an edition now preserved at the British Library, a diagram showing the Tower of W isdom – a popular medieval mnemonic diagram – 337 Ibid. 216. In the 1490s, Nuremberg was the center of humanism in the north, so it is not surprising that the book was published there. See: Stephan Füssel, Die Welt im Buch: buchkünstlerischer und humanistischer Kontext der Schedelschen Weltchronik von 1493 (Mainz: Gutenberg-Gesellschaft, 1996) and Adrian W ilson and Joyce Lancaster W ilson, The Making of the Nuremberg Chronicle (Amsterdam: Nico Israel, 1976). 338 Parshall and Schoch 216. 126 was printed on a larger sheet of paper and folded into the book. 339 In order to examine the diagram, the viewer had to turn the book sideways and unfold the page. Images such as these represent important innovations in the process of reading brought forth by the print medium and also foreshadow the development of the interactive (pop-up) medical books popular from the sixteenth century that included flaps the reader could open or close. 340 The interactive aspect of the Kalendrier, in which the relationship between the book and the reader is continually emphasized, is similar to the Danse where the dialogue forms the link between the dead and the living and between the protagonists and the viewer. Yet, one would read the two books differently. The Danse is read in one sitting, whereas the Kalendrier is a book examined in sections and over time. It is a more ambitious work; it presents itself as a manual for living and is an encyclopedia of knowledge. Like the Book of Hours, on which it is partially based, it is a type of book that a family would own for generations. In fact, the copy at the British Library discussed above, is heavily inscribed with reader’s marks, in different hands, which demonstrates that the book was used for a prolonged period of time. Translating, Augmenting or Reinventing: Strategies for Marketing Illustrated Books Despite their differences, both the Danse and the Kalendrier were intended for wider audience than his typical university clientele and Marchant employed similar strategies to market the books. These included adapting or reinventing the books, but also collaborating with publishers and booksellers who had acc ess to a 339 British Library IB. 39718. This is an edition of the Shepherdesses’ Calendar (Kalendrier et compost des bergeres) that Marchant printed in August of 1499. 340 On pop-up illustrations in the Renaissance see: Andrea Carlino, Paper Bodies: a catalogue of anatomical fugitive sheets, 1538-1687, trans. Noga Arikha (London: W ellcome Institute for the History of Medicine, 1999). Although the print medium had allowed for greater experimentation with interactive aspects of books, it is also important to note that such images were not unknown in medieval manuscripts. 127 wider network of buyers. This is an important point as it shows that the print market had a direct impact on the Danse macabre series. For example, like the Danse, the Kalendrier was also published with female instead of male protagonists, hence the Compost et kalendrier des bergères (Shepherdesses’ Calendar) published on August 17, 1499. 341 Although most authors refer to it simply as the female edition of the Kalendrier, it is in fact not. The content of the book – though not the illustrations – is markedly different from the Kalendrier, its focus placed more sternly on the relationship between astronomy, astrology and death. Structured as a dialogue between the two shepherdesses, Bietrix and Sebille, and two shepherds, named simply L’un and L’autre, the book follows the women’s visit to the city of Paris and also includes sections on astronomy and astrology from the Kalendrier. The emphasis on the dialogue between the protagonists, recalls the structure of the Danse and the Shepherdesses’ Calendar actually includes the Dance of Death of women in its last section. Like the poem of the Danse macabre des femmes, the text of the Shepherdesses’ Calendar references late fifteenth century Paris – its markets, monuments, and beauty – in very specific terms. As the title-page of the Shepherdesses’ Calendar explains, Marchant had printed two editions of the work, one for his press and the other for Jean Petit. 342 Since the book was published for the two presses at the same time, it is likely that Marchant and Petit collaborated closely on the making of this edition. As an adaptation of the Kalendrier, the book included new text – particularly the verses uttered by the Beatrix and Sebille and the two shepherds – and Marchant would have needed financial support to hire a writer and put together an expensive volume, which Petit could provide. Moreover, Petit had an interest in the Kalendrier, Marchant had printed an edition of the book specifically for Petit in 1496/7, and promoting the Shepherdesses’ Calendar in Petit’s store was especially advantageous to Marchant. As the main libraire-publisher in 341 For an electronic facsimile of this edition preserved at the BN (Rés. V. 1266) see http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb327363075/date 342 The elaborate title page which features the figure of Prestre Jehan (one of Marchant’s printer’s marks) reads: Imprime a Paris en lostel de Beauregard en la rue Cloppin, a lensigne du roy Prestre i[e]han ouquel lieu sont a vendre, ou au Lyon d’argent en la rue sainct Jaques. Both editions were printed in August of 1499. The store at the sign of Lyon d’argent belonged to Petit. 128 Paris at the time, Petit owned several stores in the Rue St. Jacques, the main hub of the printing shops in the city, and had access to a more varied and affluent clientele. Their decision to issue a female version of the Kalendrier also reflected the popular trends in publishing devotional works. Marchant’s publication of the Dance of Death of women in 1486 was one of the books that generated interest in works with female protagonists, but there are other examples as well. In 1498, just a year before the Shepherdesses’ Calendar was issued, the Flemish humanist and printer/publisher, Josse Bade, working in Lyons and Paris, decided to publish a Latin supplement in verse and prose to Sebastian Brant’s Ship of Fools, titled Sultifere naves sensus animosqs trahentes Mortis in exitium (The Ship of Female-Fools and the Five Senses). 343 In his preface, which was written in the form of a letter to his friend and publisher Angelbert (Enguillbert) de Marnef, Bede “remarked that his text should be inscribed in the long tradition of edifying literature aimed at enlightening and guiding readers toward prudent and virtuous choices.” 344 De Marnef, in turn, wanted to test the appeal of Bede’s supplement by publishing a French vernacular adaptation of it. He hired Jehan Druyon, who had devoted his whole career on the theme of folly and already translated Brant’s Ship of Fools into French (Le grande nef des Folz du Monde), to translate and adapt Bede’s text. 345 Published by de Marnef also in 1498 as La Grant nef de folles selon les cinq cens de nature, Druyon’s work deviated significantly from Bede’s addendum and included thirteen additional illustrated chapters. 346 Both the Shepherdesses’ Calendar and the Ship of Female-Fools were popular though not as frequently 343 Pinson 69. 344 Ibid 69. 345 Ibid 69. 346 Ibid 70. Note also the similarity in the way the Ship of Fools and the Dance of Death were marketed in France – in print medium the titles of both works become Le Grand… and as publishers add more books or chapters, the names of those are included in the title so that the books become closer to compilations. This is not unique to just these two works, but actually reflects the trend in early publishing used, no doubt, to entice and appeal to a wider audience. 129 printed as the original works from which they were adapted. 347 Apart from Marchant’s and Petit’s 1499 edition, only one other issue of the Shepherdesses’ Calendar is known, printed in Paris in 1505 by Gaspard Philippe, whose press was often under employment by the Petit family, which is probably the reason he published the title in the first place. 348 W hile the Kalendrier enjoyed enormous popularity in the sixteenth century and was printed in France and England, the Shepherdesses’ Calendar, with its focus on Paris and the late fifteenth century urban milieu, was perhaps too specific and hence not as appealing to publishers in later periods. Marchant would have been aware of Brant’s text and Druyon’s adaptation of Bede’s addendum, because, as noted earlier, he also printed an edition of the Ship of Fools and often collaborated with de Marnef family. Entitled Der zotten ende der narrenscip and printed in 1500, Marchant’s edition was the first book publis hed in Flemish in Paris. It was a product of partnership between Marchant and Geoffroy de Marnef, Angelbert’s brother, and it was illustrated with woodcuts used in the de Marnef’s French translation of the Ship of Fools discussed in the previous passage. This is yet another example of how tightly knit the community of printers and publishers of illustrated works was at the time and how often images and texts were adapted, translated and reused for different publications. For the purposes of our discussion, Marchant’s collaboration with Geoffroy on a Latin translation of the Danse is especially important. The book, Chorea ab Eximio Macabro versibus alemanicis edita, the book was published in October of 1490 and translated into Latin by Pierre Desrey (Petrus Desrey) from Troyes (henceforth Chorea). 349 It features twenty-three woodcuts and, in terms of the 347 The Ship of Female-Fools was printed three times in the early sixteenth century, whereas Brant’s book was published at least twenty-six times across W estern Europe. 348 Engrammare 45. 349 A facsimile of this edition is found in The Dance of Death Printed in Paris in 1490. A Reproduction Made from the Copy in the Lessing J. Rosenwald Collection, Library of Congress, with introduction by W illiam M. Ivins Jr. (W ashington, D.C.: Library of Congress, 1945). For an electronic facsimile of this edition preserved at the Libray of 130 content, it is virtually identical to Marchant’s 1486 edition of the Danse macabre des hommes except that the verses and the names of the living dancers are given in Latin. 350 The Chorea includes a fairly elaborate title-page that contains the full title of the volume and provides information on the translator, printer and publisher of the book. 351 Below the text is de Marnef’s device, an elaborate emblem depicting the pelican feeding its young and another bird nestled in the trees. Unlike other editions of the Danse, the Chorea does not include a colophon at the end of the book, most likely because the practice of printing colophons (a device derived from scribal culture) was beginning to wane at the end of the fifteenth century. 352 In comparison to Marchant’s title-page for the 1486 edition, the Chorea demonstrates just how fast the appearance of printed books was changing at the time. W hile the former featured only a single line of text (La danse macabre nouvelle) and no addional information, the Latin version, printed only four years later contains most of the information we would find in books printed today, namely the title-page, publisher’s logo and date of publication. In collaborating with de Marnef on the Latin edition, Marchant yet again displayed his astute commercial skills. Originating from a family of established booksellers in Paris, de Marnef’s shop on the Rue St. Jacques specialized in popular vernacular books for devout Christians. 353 Among the books sold at Marnef’s shop were bilingual copies, in French and Latin, of the Rule of St. Bendict, bilingual copies of Saint Jerome’s Regle de dévotion, several editions in Latin and French of Sebastian Brant’s Ship of Fools, and the Books of Hours in the most popular Congress see http://lcweb2.loc.gov/cgi- bin/ampage?collId=rbc3&fileName=rbc0001_2007rosen0406page.db 350 In addition, unlike the 1486 edition, the Latin version does not include the poem of the Three Living, which typically follows the Danse, and it includes an additional woodcut showing the Author at the end of the book. 351 The full text of the title page reads as follows: Chorea ab eximio // Macabro versibus alemanicis edita, // et a Petro Desrey Trecacio, quodam orato//re, nuper emendata, Parisiusque per ma//gistrum Guidonem Mercatorem, pro // Godeffrido de Marnef ad intersignium // Pellicani in vico Divi Jacobi commoranti, anno Domini // quadringentesimo nonagesimo supra millesimum, idibus // octobris impressa. 352 Pettigrew, French Vernacular Books xi. 353 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 86. 131 liturgical uses, the Use of Paris and the Use of Rome. 354 W hat an ideal place to market the Latin edition of the Danse! Moreover, Geoffroy de Marnef worked with Angelbert and another brother, Jean, who were also booksellers-publishers and with whom he maintained the Paris bookstore and their provincial outlets in Poitiers, Angers and Bourges. 355 Expanding the business to smaller towns was a common practice among successful booksellers and de Marnefs wer e no exception. In partnering with Geoffrey, Marchant gained the commission for the Latin edition, which de Marnef almost certainly fully financed, and an access to a wider audience for his illustrated books, not just in Paris but also elsewhere in France. Although not directly related to the Danse, two other works by Marchant should be mentioned as they demonstrate his involvement with broader European market for printed books and his willingness to experiment with format. In discussing his career, Hindman had pointed out that Marchant’s experience with publishing short tracts had led him to experiment with even more concise formats, most notably letters. 356 One of the markers of the early print culture is the way the medium took over and popularized short works – royal edicts, pamphlets and letters. W hile the practice of printing such documents reached its pinnacle in the sixteenth century when debates concerning the Reformation were made public through print, there are examples of it from the fifteenth century as well. 357 For instance, in 1482 the French crown made sure that the provisions of the Treaty of Arras – a document signed by King Louis XI and the Archduke Maximilan I – were made available in print and thus distributed more widely, initiating the tradition that only grew in the subsequent century. Although Marchant did not print royal documents, his short publications nevertheless participated in the public discourse surrounding historical events. One letter was especially timely: the document announcing Christopher Columbus’s 354 Ibid. 86. 355 Ibid. 86. 356 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant,” 83. 357 Pettigrew x. 132 discovery of the New W orld, which Marchant had printed in 1493/4. 358 When Columbus returned from his voyage to the New W orld in January of 1493, he wrote a letter in Spanish recounting his observations and experience. W ritten in Lisbon and dated March 14, 1493, the letter was first published in Barcelona by Pedro Rosa. 359 Shortly after, on April 29, Columbus’ letter was translated into Latin by Leander de Cosco (Leandre di Cosco) and printed in Rome in early May as Epistola de insulis nuper inventis (“A Letter about the Islands newly discovered’). 360 Following its translation into Latin, the letter was rapidly published throughout Europe, with editions printed in Basel, Antwerp, Strasbourg and Paris. Importantly, Marchant was the only French printer to publish the letter, which points to his connection with the printing industry outside of France and his keen sense for interpreting the trends in the market. 361 W hat makes this document especially interesting is the format in which it is printed. Consisting of a single folio sheet of paper folded twice to make a pamphlet of eight pages, the Epistola is a precursor of modern newspaper. 362 Marchant’s edition features the title page (hence we know the document was meant to be folded) with the title of the letter and an advertisement for his shop at Champ Gaillard: Epistola de insulis de nouo repertis. Impressa parisius in capo gaillardi. 363 On the verso of the title page, he included the epigram written by the Bishop of Monte Peloso, R. L. de Corbaria, entitled To the Most Invincible King of Spain, and the woodcut portraying the Annunciation to the 358 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant,” 83. Marchant had allegedly printed three variants of the letter, all published in 1493, of which there are only two recorded copies of each edition. For a discussion of Marchant’s letter and the list of other editions of the work (nine, overall) see W ilberforce Eames, “Columbus Letter on the Discovery of America,” Bulletin of the New York Public Library, 28 (1924):595-99. 359 Eams 596. 360 Ibid 596. 361 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 84. 362 Eams 595. For a reproduction of this image, see Eams. 363 Ibid. 596. W hile the image of the letter included in this text contains just a reference to Marchant’s shop in the title, one of the other two editions actually features his printer’s mark, the Sola fides suffict. 133 Shepherds. 364 The illustration does not appear in other European editions and Hindman suggests that Marchant took it from a group of woodcuts that he reused from time to time and “that are thought to come from a Book of Hours, which has yet to be identified.” 365 As a possible source, Hindman lists the fragmentary Horae printed for Vérard in 1489, now preserved at the BN (Réserve B. 27814). 366 In 1492 Marchant had also printed two editions of the Kalendrier, including the deluxe edition for Vérard, in which he used similar cuts depicting shepherds in the fields. It is possible therefore that the woodcut used in the Epistola was modeled after the illustrations in his editions of the Kalendrier, but what I would argue is more significant here is Marchant’s ability to adapt his illustrations to different texts. The figure of the shepherd is an important one in the Bible: Abel was a keeper of sheep, Abraham, Isaac and Joseph were shepherds, Moses kept the flock of Jethro, and King David was also a shepherd. 367 In the New Testament, the shepherds were the first to hear about the birth of Christ from an angel (Luke 8-20) – the scene depicted in the Epistola – and Jesus is also often described as the Good Shepherd. 368 By using the image of the Annunciation to the Shepherds in the Epistola, Marchant is suggesting to his readers that they too, like the shepherds in the Bible, are made privy to a special proclamation, one that will usher in the beginning of a new era. The notion of travelling or exploration was taken up in another publication that deviated from Marchant’s general oeuvre of scholarly texts. Published in November 364 Ibid 596. As quoted in Eames, the epigram reads: “No region now can add to Spain’s great deeds/ To such man all the world is yet too small./ An Orient land found far beyond the waves/ W ill add, great Betica, to thy renown./ Then to Columbus, the true finder, give/ Due thanks; but greater still to God on high./ W ho makes new kingdoms for himself and thee/ Both firm and pious let thy conduct be.” 365 Hindman,“The Career of Guy Marchant” 84. As a possible source, Hindman lists the fragmentary Horae published by Vérard in 1489, now preserved in Paris at the BN (Réserve B.27814). 366 Ibid. 84. As the BN catalogue explains, this Horae is now bound with another printed Book of Hours, which includes the sentence Sola fides sufficit, thus suggesting that Marchant may have been involved in the printing of this volume. 367 Heseltine v. 368 In the Kalendrier, the shepherd should be understood as a representation of everyman and the figure is used often used metaphorically to describe aspects of the human condition. 134 of 1499, Les merveillies de Romme (The marvels of Rome) was a French translation of the pilgrim guide to the monuments in Rome, Mirabilia Romae vel potius historia et descriptio urbis Romae. W hile in the Epistola, Marchant dabbled in pamphlet publications, here he tackled the format of travel guides. This hugely popular pilgrim’s guide to the monuments in Rome, reproduced in many manuscripts, was one of the bestsellers in the early years of printing. 369 The work was translated into vernaculars, multiple editions in German are known, two Italian and two French translations, one of which was published by Marchant. 370 W hile most editions of the Mirabilia were printed in octavo (8 0 ), Marchant’s work is unique because it is a dudodecimo (12 o ), and as such truly a pocket size book. 371 Like the Latin Danse, Marchant’s Les merveilles was published for Geoffroy de Marnef no doubt because it fit perfectly with the types of books – vernacular texts for devout Christians – for which the de Marnef shop was renowned. 372 When we survey the career of Guy Marchant in detail, a more complex picture emerges than the one typically found in studies on macabre art. Rather than seeing Marchant simply as a printer who happened to have published editions of the Danse, we see him as a shrewd entrepreneur and an innovator in the field of early printed books. His ability to move fluidly between short, plain tracts intended for the 369 The ISTC lists 64 editions printed up to 1500 throughout W estern Europe. 370 The other French translation was printed by Pierre Le Carron after 1493. 371 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 84. A duodecimo format refers to a book made by folding a sheet of paper into twelve leaves. Hindman mentions that the only smaller version of the book was published in Rome by Stephan Plannck four months after Marchant. Plannck’s book was a twentyfourmo (24 o ), and Hindman suggests that is was perhaps made because Marchant had such success with his edition. 372 Ibid. 86. Hindman also suggests that Marchant’s Les merveilles was popular in part because it was well marketed through the de Marnef operations and available not just in Paris, but in their other outposts in France. As a side point, it should also be noted that some of the same printers who had published editions of the Epistola also printed the Mirabilia, most importantly Stephan Plannck and Eucharius Silber, both working in Rome. Among the titles from their presses De conservations sanitatis and the Prognosticon, which are thematically similar to parts of the Kalendrier. More research is needed here, but it is likely that Marchant had also established connections with Italian printers and looked to Italy for inspiration for his illustrated volumes. This seems all the more plaus ible since Marchant had clearly been involved in the humanist circles in Paris and would thus be familiar with Italian publications. 135 students of the College of Navarre and parchment copies of illustrated books created for the King of France is as remarkable as it is unusual in the world of early printing where such wide range of publishing would often have disastrous consequences. Marchant’s education and familiarity with established theological tracts, but also his interest in the emerging humanist and scientific discourses reveal the depth of knowledge a printer needed to have to become successful in the new industry. Marchant’s publication of the Danse macabre was therefore not a happenstance. He did not print the first edition because the mural was a popular monument; he did it because he knew the market was interested in books on death and dying and probably also because there was the German blockbook precedent, which he must have known. In printing the Danse, Marchant did not only adapt the late medieval theme to the medium of print, he reinvented it altogether by adding new figures and complementary texts and thus placed the subject into a wholly new context so that it was, especially in the context of the Danse macabre des femmes, almost an autonomous work. In the process, Marchant created a new type of book – one of the earliest examples of specifically French incunabula, different in style to either German or Italian printed books. The same can be said about his other ‘invention’, the Kalendrier, which is really the magnum opus of his whole enterprise. Although he was not the writer of the texts or the creator of the images, he was the compiler who put together a new product – one that remained popular and often copied through the sixteenth century – and in that sense put a stamp on the history of early printed books. A review of Marchant’s career and publications also allows us to see how small and interconnected the world of printing was in the early years of the industry. The majority of printers and publishers collaborated with one another on a regular basis, which helped to popularize the Danse and other similar illustrated titles. Marchant’s success with the Dance of Death editions sparked the interest of other printers to produce their own volumes, which vary in terms of format, content and quality. Certain printers had clearly worked only with Vérard’s illustrations for the Danse macabre des hommes, while others copied Marchant’s books. As I will elaborate in the fifth chapter, Husz was in possession of both versions because he 136 combined Vérard’s and Marchant’s woodcuts and also included all other appended texts. Actually, Husz’s book is probably the most comprehensive edition of the Danse in the fifteenth century since it included all known woodcuts and his own added inventions. His most famous adaptation of the Danse is the woodcut of the Printers (Fig. 10). W hile, as discussed earlier, Husz introduces printers as new members of society and celebrates their skills, the image is not entirely positive. Revealing his understanding of macabre sensibility, Husz creates a self-referential image that combines the notions of death and printing. Inherent in the composition is a sense of entrapment and claustrophobia: the compositor is squeezed between the table and the bench, the inker is blocked by the press and the libraire is trapped between the bookshelves and the counter. Unlike the other cadavers in the Danse, Husz’s dead are giants; they are nearly twice as tall as the printers and the bookseller, which makes them particularly threatening. This is especially obvious in the ‘panel’ depicting the printing workshop where the heads of the two cadavers are almost touching the ceiling even though neither is standing fully upright. Since one of the dead had seized the pressman in the center of the composition, at this moment no one is pulling the bar on the press or making books. Like a weapon, the bar now points into Death; into nothingness. Even more symbolically, Death’s hand and the pressman’s hand are clasped together and hover over the printing pr ess. Their bodies too, are mirroring one another – both pulling in the opposite direction. Death and the printer, Husz tells us, are doubles. In accordance with macabre spirit, Death is the future image of the pressman and if the woodcut showed the more common right-handed press, the pressman would actually be standing exactly where Death is now. Perhaps it is also not a coincidence that the doubling of Death and the printer takes place right above the printing press – the machine celebrated for its ability to produce multiple, identical copies. 137 CHAPTER FOUR La danse macabre nouvelle: W omen, Fools and the Agency of the Printer The Big Twist Awkwardly tiptoeing on his left foot, one of the giant cadavers in Mathias Husz’s woodcut depicting Death visiting the printing workshop and the bookstore is shown grabbing the printer and pulling him over the printing press (Fig. 10). The other workers in the image are also being dragged away from their posts: the compositor is interrupted as he is putting together a line of text, while the bookseller on the far right stands behind the counter in front of an open book. Although the woodcut is part of the Danse macabre book, the act of dancing – a crucial element of the theme – is not immediately apparent in the image. In a more typical portrayal of the Danse, such as the mural painting from La Ferté-Loupière in Yonne, Burgundy (c.1500), the living and the dead are lined up facing the viewer (Figs. 12, 40 and 41). W hile the figures do not hold hands, as they would in many dances, their bodies are in contact because the cadavers yank on the living persons’ sleeves, pull on their belts or grab their arms, which create a sense of a unified, choreographed movement. W hat is especially striking in the example from La Ferté-Loupière is that the dead appear more energetic than the living: they twist, hop and jump lifting their knees and elbows as they force the living into the dance. 373 Their facial expressions are also more animated the dead frequently grimace and grin flashing teeth at their horrified dancing partners. Although the exact style of dancing is not often identified in the verses that accompany the Danse, the medieval audience, accustomed to dances performed at feasts, processions, courts or even 373 It should be noted that in the printed editions, the difference in movement between the living and the dead is not as obvious as it is in the mural paintings because we can only view two pairs per page. 138 funerary rituals, would no doubt be able to ‘read’ the body-language of the figures portrayed in the picture. 374 As scholars have pointed out, the living and the dead in the Danse actually dance two different dances: the sprightly, jerky movements of the dead resemble the peasant dance known as Morris Dance (or a Morisco), while the controlled, gliding motion of the living figures is more typical of the courtly dance style known as the basse-dance (“low dance”). 375 Associated with the court, the basse-dance was the most popular style of dancing in the fifteenth and early sixteenth centuries. A few extant choreographies of the dance show that the steps are executed close to the ground in order to create “a gentle rising and falling gliding motion.” 376 The dancers shy away from any sudden movements and there is no hopping, twisting or jumping associated with the basse- dance. In fact, as Frances Eustace has recently noted, the dancers’ steps “remain low even in the more rapid sections” of the dance; this translates into virtual still ness when the dance is depicted in a painting or an illumination. 377 This, at least, is the impression we get when we look at the portrayal of the basse-dance from the Italian 374 Frances Eustace with Pamela M. King, “Dances of the Living and the Dead: A Study of the Danse Macabre Imagery W ithin the Content of Late-Medieval Dance Culture,” Mixed Metaphors: The Danse Macabre in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds: Sophie Oosterwijk and Stephanie Knöll (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2011) 43-71, 43. 375 For a discussion of these two styles of dancing and their social implications see Robert I. McGrath, “The Dance as Pictorial Metaphor,” Gazette des beaux-arts 89 (1977): 81-92 and D. W . Robertson, A Preface to Chaucer: Studies in Medieval Perspective (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1962). For an analysis of the dance in the context of the Danse macabre see: Eustace, “Dances of the Living and the Dead”; Elina Gertsman, The Dance of Death, especially. chapter 2; Jane H. M. Taylor, “Que signifiait danse au quinzième siècle? Danser la Danse macabré”, Fifteenth Century Studies 18 (1991): 259-77; and Susanne W arda “Dance, Music and the Inversion of the Natural Order in the Medieval Danse Macabre eds: Sophie Oosterwijk and Stephanie Knöll (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2011) 73- 100. 376 Eustace 56. 377 Ibid. 56. 139 manual on dancing written by Guglielmo Ebreo in 1463 or the figures of the living in the La Ferté-Loupière (Figs. 40 and 41). 378 However, in Husz’s woodcut no such dances are shown (Fig. 10). The figures are neither dancing in an obvious way, nor are they arranged in a processional line facing the viewer. W e only know that the living and the dead in the image are meant to be dancing because the verses placed below the image tell us so. Venez danser ung tourdion, says le mort to the printers in the opening line of the dialogue, thus referencing not only the act of dancing per se, but also a very specific style of dancing known as La Grant Tourdion (loosely translated as the “Big Twist”), which became popular at the turn of the century. 379 On the one hand, Husz may have wanted to emphasize that a dance is taking place in the image since the composition does not elucidate that clearly and hence included a reference to the Tourdion in the verses and, on the other, his choice of this particualr dance made the woodcut more relevant to its late-fifteenth century audience. Updating the Danse by referencing contemporary fashion or popular dances as well as by inserting new social types, like printers, into the hierarchy of figures that made up the composition was an effective strategy through which Husz made the book appealing and pertinent to wider publics. At the same time, Husz’s decision to allude to a particular dancing style in the verses or depict the new technology of printing in the woodcut highlights his crucial role as the editor responsible for assembling text and images and providing the narrative framework of the book. The New Danse The practice of updating the Danse did not of course begin with Husz. W e will recall that even in the first edition of the Danse, published in 1485, Marchant, the 378 For a color reproduction of the miniature from Ebreo’s tract, De practica seu arte tripudii vulgare opusculum (BN, Ms. ital. 973) see Gertsman, The Dance of Death, plate 19, page 340. 379 The translation is found in Jody Enders, Murder by Accident: Medieval Theatre, Modern Media, Critical Intentions (Chicago and London: Chicago UP, 2009) 89. 140 printer modernized the costumes of the living figures and matched them to the fashion of the 1480s. Marchant had also expanded the Danse by adding ten new male figures in June of 1486 and he published a whole new series with only female protagonists in July of the same year. The rapid expansion of characters in the printed versions of the Danse – overall, forty-six male and female figures were added to the series in five years – revealed an interest in exploring the burgeoning social sphere at the turn of the century. 380 Part of the reason for the additions was the appeal of the new. Nouveauté, as Leah Chang has recently noted, attracted readers in the early years of printing and printers frequently made an effort to market their work as new or revised. 381 Marchant certainly understood this strategy well because he entitled the augmented edition of the men’s Danse, La danse macabre nouvelle (The New Dance of Death). Yet, the expansion of figures signified more than just a marketing strategy of a savvy printer. Despite its religious and didactic origin, the Danse was predicated on a portrayal of society and its satirical verses were often aimed at the secular and ecclesiastic elite. W ho was included or excluded from the Danse or how a given figure was represented in the image could (and did) have particular political or social connotations. The best example of this may be the curious absence of the Duke – the most prominent title among the French nobles in the later Middle Ages – from the roster of male figures included in the mural from the Cemetery of the H oly Innocents in Paris. As Sophie Oosterwijk reminds us, in 1424-5 when the mural was painted, the complex and often bloody political situation in Paris implicated several French dukes and the portrayal of such a figure in the image could have been construed as a risqué political move. 382 Sixty years later, however, the stigma surrounding the Duke had apparently cleared since the figure was included in 380 It is also worth mentioning that the majority of new figures were actually added in 1486 – Marchant augmented the men’s Danse with ten figures in 1486 and published the women’s Danse, consisting of thirty-four characters a month later. The last two female figures were included in April of 1491. 381 Leah L. Chang, Into Print: The Production of Female Authorship in Early Modern France (Newark: Delaware UP, 2009) 29. 382 See Oosterwijk, Fro Paris to Inglond. 141 Marchant’s augmented edition of 1486 in which the Duke is depicted as a handsome man wearing a long brocade coat as befits his status and rank (Fig. 34). While the hierarchy depicted in the Danse macabre printed books should not be read as a literal portrayal of society (characters such as the female Theologian ( la Thelogienne), for example, unattested in historical records, may have been included as a way to ridicule the idea of women as preachers not to depict an actual social role), in their attempt to modernize the theme the printers nevertheless paid close attention to their social world and so should we. 383 During the transition from the medieval to the Renaissance era, French society underwent significant transformation and one of the main ones involved, importantly, the growing prominence of aristocratic women in social and political realms. In particular, the reign of Anne of Brittany (d. 1514), twice the Queen of France, demonstrated an involvement in political and public life that far surpassed those of her predecessors. Aristocratic women were also important patrons of books, both manuscripts and printed editions, and, as Martha W olff has pointed out, for some of these women “the opportunity for artistic patronage seems to be tied to some degree of independent political power.” 384 Prominent printers and publishers, like Antoine Vérard worked hard to establish close connections with women at the French court and he published notable volumes (often with women as the main protagonists) for Anne of Brittany and Louise of Savoy (d. 1531), the Duchess of Angoulême and the mother of Francis I. 385 W omen also actively participated in mercantile economy and worked as merchants, artisans and even printers. The case of Charlotte Guillard, who 383 Female saints, such as Catherine of Sienna (d. 1380), are exceptions. Catherine’s spiritual texts, including her most famous treatise The Dialogue of Divine Providence, were read and respect by the contemporaries and in that sense she may have been viewed as a theologian. However, there are no known female theologians who lived in France at the end of the fifteenth century and though women occasionally preached in Paris and elsewhere, they were generally not taken seriously. On this issue see Larissa Taylor, Soldiers of Christ: Preaching in Late Medieval and Reformation France (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1992). 384 Martha W olff, “Princess as Patrons”, Kings, Queens, and Courtiers: Art in Early Renaissance France, 35. 385 For Vérard’s relationship with both Anne and Louise, see Mary Beth Winn, Anthoine Vérard, especially chapter IV. 142 worked as a printer for fifty years and published 158 editions is quite famous and well documented, but there were other notable female printers working in France at the time including the widow of Jean Trepperel who even published an edition of the Danse in the early sixteenth century. 386 At the same time, as a recent study has shown, notions of masculine identity and especially aristoc ratic masculinity were being re-forged and what it meant to be, for example, a Knight, in the early fifteenth century was no longer valid in the context of the late 1400s. 387 Given such shifting paradigms of identity and social order, we have to wonder whether the appeal of the Danse macabre books in this period has in part to do with an attempt to reinsert older and contested social categories or perhaps provide a tangible means of classifying and hence controlling the transforming public sphere. Considering these issues, the present chapter will focus on two specific themes within the Danse macabre books that are, as I will show, a particular invention of the print medium, namely the Danse macabre des femmes series and the inclusion of the Fool (henceforth des Femmes). W hile examples of the Danse that predate the illustrated books occasionally featured female characters, prior to Marchant’s edition there was never more than a few women depicted in the Danse and certainly no Dance of Death that was composed solely of women. Although des Femmes was likely intended as a companion-piece to the men’s Danse and the two books share the same composition and are embedded in the same religious and moralistic concerns, they also differ considerably. Developed out of the late fifteenth century allegorical and moralistic poetry, des Femmes reveals concerns over women 386 For a discussion of Guillard’s career see B. Beech, “Charlotte Guillard: A Sixteenth-Century Business W oman”, Renaissance Quarterly 36, (1983):345-367. Information regarding the widow of Jean Trepperel can be found in: see: Stéphanie Ohlund-Rambaud, “L’Atelier de Jean Trepperel, Imprimeur-Libraire Parisien (1492- 1511), Patrons, Authors and Workshops: Books and Book Production in Paris around 1400, eds. Godfried Croenen and Peter Ainsworth (Leuven, Belgium: Peeters, 2006, 123-142). The edition of the Danse printed by the widow of Trepperel was published in c. 1511 in collaboration with her second husband, Jean Jehannot, is in a private collection. For sources on women in the book industry see Chang, Into Print and Susan Broomhall, Women and the Book Trade in Sixteenth-Century France (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2002). 387 See Darrin M. Cox, Aristocratic Masculinity in France (1450-1550): From Knight to Courtier, Lewiston (New York: The Edwin Mellen Press, 2012). 143 as sources of sin and moral corruption, while at the same time attempting to negotiate anxiety over the growing prominence of women in public life of the period. As befits the macabre genre, the work is purposely ambivalent – neither completely misogynistic nor exactly salutary – des Femmes is a fascinating portrayal of thirty-six women situated specifically in an urban late-fifteenth century Parisian context. Marchant’s second important modification of the genre is the inclusion of the Fool (le Sot) and the Female Fool (la Sotte) in the Danse in 1486 and 1491 respectively (Figs. 35 and 42). To an extent, the Danse was always about the foolishness of the human kind, about the way men and women continually fault by clinging on to their status, beauty or material possessions while disregarding their soul and their chance of salvation. The verses carried within a healthy dose of satire and humor, aimed particularly at the wealthy and the powerful, and as I discussed in the first chapter, depending on the context in which one views the Danse, the text and the image could be construed as a farce of sorts rather than a serious contemplation on death and mortality. For these reasons, an inclusion of the Fool into the roster of figures that make up the Danse may not be so surprising. However, whereas in medieval morality discourse and particularly treatises on vices and virtues, folly held a position opposite Prudence and symbolized moral failing, at the end of the fifteenth century in Northern Europe the theme of folly began to take on an all encompassing meaning, which up until then had been mainly reserved for Death. 388 Referencing the Danse, Michel Foucault had famously argued that in the last years of the fifteenth century “the mockery of madness replaces death and its solemnity.” 389 As we will see, Foucault was only partially right, Death did not fully disappear at the end of the century, but the theme of the fool and f olly did begin to challenge Death’s position as a common allegorical figure in art and literature of the period. Marchant’s inclusion of the Fool and the Female Fool in the Danse, and especially, his decision to place them at the end of the dance, standing as the last living figures, I will argue, reveals his interest in adjusting the theme to fit these new 388 Yona Pinson, The Fool’s Journey 2. 389 Michel Foucault, Madness and Civilization: A History of Insanity in the Age of Reason, trans. Richard Howard (New York: Vintage Books, 1988) 15. 144 moral and didactic concerns. It also further highlights the satirical and the topsy-turvy elements already inherent in the structure of the Danse. Both the publication of the des Femmes and the inclusion of the Fool opened up the Danse to new interpretations and emphasized the crucial role the printer had in designing the book and imbuing it with meaning through a careful editorial strategy. Marchant and the Framing of the Danse macabre of Women The women’s Dance of Death is in part modeled after the men’s Danse and the two books were complementary from the beginning. W hile Marchant published the first and the second edition of des Femmes separately from the men’s series, it is certainly true that many printers, including Husz and Nicolas Le Rouge, printed the two dances in single books thus emphasizing their status as companion-pieces. Early illustrated books were also typically sold unbound and it is not unreasonable to assume that a bookseller would have pitched the two titles together to potential customers or that readers would have bound the works in single volumes as a complete series. In fact, a study of the notarial inventories of the sixteenth c entury Parisian private libraries, suggests that the two dances were frequently bought together as a pair. 390 However, the obvious similarity in theme and composition between the men’s and the women’s series also tends to overshadow the inherent differences between the two works. To see des Femmes merely as a variation of the Danse with female protagonists, as scholars often do, is to forget that from the very first edition des Femmes was marketed in decisively different ways from the men’s series and hence carried its own sets of concerns. It is worth recalling that Marchant published the first edition of the women’s series in July of 1486 and, importantly, that he entitled the 390 See Alexander H. Schutz, “Vernacular Books in Parisian Private Libraries of the Sixteenth Century According to the Notarial Inventories”, University of North Carolina Studies in the Romance Languages and Literatures, 25 (1955). Interestingly, this study shows that families that owned copies of the Danse also often owned editions of Marchant’s other illustrated bestseller, the Shepherd’s Calendar. 145 work not the Danse macabre des femmes (which he probably would if he intended it only as a companion piece to the des Hommes), but the Miroer salutaire (Salutary Mirror). Much has been made in literature about Marchant’s wording of the title, and rightly so. 391 Marchant’s use of the word miroer recalls a long established medieval tradition of the Speculum works, a smart strategy to use for a new illustrated book as it allowed him to access a wider range of readers and buyers, but it also references the theme of mirroring, and especially the distorted mirror that is so important in the macabre genre. In the memento mori tradition, the dead are what the living (and the viewer) will become at one point in the future. In the context of the Danse, as I elaborated in the second chapter, scholars frequently debate about the nature of the dead in the image and question whether they are in fact specters of the living figures in death. Is it the dance of death or the dance of the dead? The power of horror in the Danse lies not in the fact that the image shows decomposing bodies, though they are certainly meant to shock us, but that we are seeing reflections of ourselves, our own distorted doppelgangers, as dead bodies in a future moment that is fast approaching. Marchant’s use of the term miroer may actually have been even more instructive. As he explains in the 1486 introductory colophon, the book was intended as a self-help guide for all who desire salvation and want to make sure they achieve it (Miroer salutaire pour toutes gens et des tous estats/ et est de grant utilite …pour celux qui desirent acquerir leur salut et qui le voudront avoir). Taylor has pointed out that by the late Middle Ages, the verb ‘se mirer’ had been used not so much to denote an act of looking at oneself in the mirror, as to imply a form of meditation or contemplation, which is exactly what Marchant was suggesting in the colophon. 392 For him, the book was an instrument for the betterment of the reader and thus functioned as a contemplative tool. W hat made des Femmes different from the men’s Danse – itself a form of exempla for the reader/viewer – is that from its inception it only existed within the framework set up by Marchant. Unlike the men’s Danse which was initially published in 1485 as a book of fifteen woodcuts and 391 See for instance Taylor, “Un Miroer Salutaire.” 392 Ibid. 30. 146 accompanying verses, des Femmes was never printed without at least two other didactic texts, namely the Debat dun corps et dun ame and the Compainte de lame dampnee (henceforth the Debat and the Complainte). I will discuss the implications of this compilation of texts later in the chapter, but for now I wish to emphasize the importance of Marchant’s intervention with des Femmes. Marchant, as we will recall, was neither the author nor the artist for the works he published. His talent was located not in his ability to compose but to compile texts and images from disparate sources and assemble them in his publications in new and innovative ways. In the context of des Femmes, it was Marchant’s editorial skills that supplied the narrative for the work and in turn informed the viewer’s experience of it. For this reason, I would argue that our understanding of des Femmes has to take into consideration the two other works, the Debate and the Complainte not only as complementary texts concerned with similar didactic ideas, but as essential components of des Femmes and as parts of a unified whole. In the past, des Femmes attracted scholarly attention because it is a poignant portrayal of women from all strata of the late fifteenth century society. Authors such as Ann Tukey Harrison and Sandra Hindman, Suzanne W emple and Diane Kaiser and Josette W isman have discussed aspects of class, gender, and social and political concerns regarding the representation of women in des Femmes, all of which enriched our understanding of the work. 393 Scholars writing primarily on macabre art had focused more on the book’s relationship to the men’s Danse and typically see it as a work of lesser quality. For example, Mâle described des Femmes as the product of “an untalented poet”, while for Kinch the development of 393 See Ann Tukey Harrison ed. The Danse macabre of Women ms. fr. 995 of the Bibliothèque nationale (Kent, Ohio: The Kent State UP, 1995); Ann Tukey Harrison, “Fifteenth-Century French W omen’s Role Names”, The French Review 62 (1989):436-444; Suzanne F. W emple and Denise A. Kaiser, “Death’s Dance of W omen”, Journal of Medieval History 12 (1986):333-343; Josette A. Wisman, “La Symbolique du miroir dans les dances macabres de Guyot Marchant”, Romanische Forschungen 103 (1991): 158-171 and “Un miroir déformant: hommes et femmes des Danses macabres de Guyot Marchant”, The Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies 23. 2 (1993): 275-299. 147 the women’s series is a sign of the narrowing down of audience, a notion he believes undermines the social impact of the original mural examples. 394 According to Kinch, des Femmes was intended primarily for “rich, bourgeois women who sought edifying reading material” and who were attracted to work that catered to their own particular interests. 395 Kinch’s claim, however, is only partially correct. While it is likely that des Femmes appealed to some women, it is doubtful that women were the only readers of the series. In the opening colophon, Marchant had clearly stated that the book is intended for both men and women ( pour toutes gens et de tous estates) and, even more significantly, woodcuts from des Femmes were frequently included in the margins of the printed Books of Hours where they were exposed to an even wider community of readers. What has been missing from the studies on des Femmes, however, is the acknowledgment of the crucial role Marchant had in assembling the book. In the early years of printing in France successful printer-publishers, such as Marchant, frequently inserted their agency into the work they were publishing and took it upon themselves to reinvent or even adapt a given text. For instance, Lori W alters has studied the process of Vérard’s reframing of Christine de Pizan’s Trésor de la cité des dames (Treasury of the City of Ladies), first written in 1405, that he published in 1497 for Anne of Brittany in which he positioned himself as an intermediary between Christine and Anne, a move that emphasized his role as the propagator of Christian doctrine to the French monarchy. 396 Similarly, Taylor has show the importance of Vérard’s editorial strategy and intention in assembling the Jardin de Plaisance, an anthology of poetry first published in 1501. 397 I see Marchant’s publication of des 394 Emile Mâle, Religious Art in France 344-5 and Ashby Kinch, “The Danse Macabre and the Medieval Community of Death”, Mediaevalia 23 (2002): 159-202, 188. 395 Kinch, “The Danse Macabre,” 188. 396 Lori J. W alters “Anthoine Vérard’s Reframing of Christine de Pizan’s Doctrine for Anne de Bretagne”, The Cultural and Political Legacy of Anne de Bretagne: Negotiating Conventions in Books and Documents, ed. Cynthia J. Brown (Cambridge: Brewer, 2010) 47-63. 397 See Taylor, “A Priest of Poetry to the People.” Taylor’s discussion of Vérard’s edition has been instrumental in forming my arguments regarding Marchant’s intervention with des Femmes. According to Taylor Vérard’s books exemplifies the 148 Femmes as belonging to such practices of early printers which were in part experimental – certain compilations worked and found audiences and others did not – but which also demonstrated an increasing importance of the role of the editor or compiler in giving meaning to the work. While it is true that Marchant also reinvented the men’s Danse by adding new text and new figures – a strategy that, as we have seen, was later continued by Husz – what I think is particularly interesting about des Femmes is that Marchant did not have a pictorial model to work from. W e will recall that his 1485 edition of the Danse was likely based on the famous mural located at the Paris Cemetery of the Holy Innocents, which Marchant adapted to fit into the new medium. Such a strategy was not possible with des Femmes because prior to Marchant’s book, female figures were only occasionally included in the Danse. Although there was no image to model the book after, the verses of des Femmes poem were written several years before Marchant’s publication, probably in 1482, and circulated in manuscripts of the period. In discussing des Femmes, I will argue that Marchant assembled the work by relying on such existing manuscripts and literary traditions and that he also, importantly, borrowed heavily from the pictorial language of satirical prints popular in Northern Europe from the 1450s onward. His editorial influence is evident from the introductory colophon and the layout of texts which start with the death of the body and end with Hell and damnation and in that sense he corrected the inherent ambiguity of the Danse; yet unlike the men’s series, des Femmes is also more early printers predilection towards assembling (or “packaging” as she states) different texts in new formats. As she explains, it is erroneous to think of Vérard’s edition as merely a compendium – a notion that denies a premeditated intention on the part of the collector/compiler. Rather, she argues, we ought to think of such works as anthologies or compilations, terms that suggest a conscious intervention on the part of the editor in putting the disparate works together. According to Taylor, Vérard’s Jardin is an anthology made by “using paratexts to create an aesthetic expressiveness, by arranging its miscellaneous contents so as to encourage the perception of an artful whole” (233). Although des Femmes is a much shorter and to some extent less complex work than the Jardin, I would argue that Marchant’s mode of operation functioned in exactly the same way. 149 staunchly urban and topical, interested as much in a serious contemplation on death and salvation as in a satirical portrayal of women and their role in society. Women and Death in French Manuscripts and Literary Traditions, c. 1460-1520 Marchant’s interest in publishing des Femmes was almost certainly prompted by the nouveauté strategy frequently employed by the early printers who marketed their books as revised, augmented or otherwise improved in hopes of attracting new or wider readership. At the same time, however, we know from the previous chapter that Marchant had a keen ability to recognize the trends in the market and a book with solely female protagonists would have appealed to a number of readers at the time. Throughout the fifteenth century in France there was an avid interest in books about women from Christine de Pizan’s Trésor de la cité des dames and Pierre Michault’s Procès d’Honneur Féminin (1461) to Antoine Dufour’s Vies des femmes célèbres (1504) and Symphorien Champier’s Nef des dames vertueuses (1503). 398 In addition, fifteenth century French poets like as Eustache Dechamps (d. 1406), Pierre de Nesson (d. before 1442), François Villon (d. c.1463) and Olivier de la Marche (d. 1502) explored macabre themes in their verses or utilized the figure of death personified in their allegorical poems with female protagonists. 399 To understand the genesis of Marchant’s des Femmes, it will be useful to explore the conjunctuion of related themes in earlier allegorical poems. Of special interest to present discussion are two poems written in the latter decades of the fifteenth 398 For a recent discussion of these works see: Helen J. Swift, Gender, Writing and Performance: Men Defending Women in Late Medieval France, 1440-1538 (Oxford: Clarendon, 2008) and Michel Szkilnik, “Mentoring Notable Ladies: Antoine Dufour’s Vies des femmes célèbres”, The Cultural and Political Legacy of Anne de Bretagne: Negotiating Conventions in Books and Documents, ed. Cynthia J. Brown (Cambridge: Brewer, 2010) 65-80. 399 On this issue see Christine Martineau-Genieys, Le thème de la mort dans la poésie française de 1450 à 1550 (Paris: H. Champion, 1977). 150 century in which death is linked directly to the Original Sin and thus given specific historical origin in Adam’s and Eve’s trespass. 400 Around 1465 Pierre Michault composed an allegorical poem La dance aux aveugles (the Dance of the Blind), which is thematically and compositionally related to the Danse. The poem is occasionally referred to as La dance aux trois aveugles (the Dance of the Three Blind) because the work is divided into three sections (Blind Love, Blind Fortune and Blind Death). Michault’s poem was illustrated in several manuscripts (most notably Arsenal Ms. 5113, d. 1486) and also published in incunabula editions. Like the Danse, Michault’s poem begins with the prologue of the Lacteur and includes images of figures from different strata of society dancing, albeit blindfolded. In the work, the personified figure of Death is portrayed riding an ox, a point meant to emphasize Death’s slow but steady progress. 401 In the verses, Death is linked to Adam and Eve and the Original Sin, the act blamed for bringing death into the world in the Genesis. That contemporaries recognized the similarities between Michault’s poem and the Danse, by the 1460s already an established pictorial and literary theme in France, is evident from the fact that the two dances were included together in a partially illustrated manuscript dating from c. 1482, which was also, as we will see, the earliest known occurrence of the Danse macabre des femmes poem (BN, Ms. fonds français 1186). Marchant must also have been familiar with Michault’s work since he included a version of the verses from the Dance aux aveugles in a section on death and mortality in his editions of the Kalendrier. The other important work is an anonymous Mors de la Pomme (The Bite of the Apple) that I already discussed in the previous chapter (henceforth the Mors). The poem appears in a single illustrated manuscript (BN, Ms. fonds français 17001), 400 In his discussion of Death and the Maiden series by Hans Baldung Grien, Joseph Leo Koerner makes a point that the historical origin of death was of vital importance to much of macabre imagery, see Koerner 292. 401 For a recent discussion on the image of Death riding a bull see Sylvie Bethmont - Gallerand, “Death Personified in Medieval Imagery: The Motif of Death Riding a Bovine”, Mixed Metaphors: The Danse Macabre in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, eds. Sophie Oosterwijk and Stefanie Knöll (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2011) 169-188. 151 which also includes poems and translations by Jean Miélot (d. 1472), a noted author, translator and illuminator who worked at the court of the Duke of Burgundy. 402 Almost certainly derived from the Danse macabre genre the Mors consists of individual scenes in which Death, referred to as la Mort, encounters its victims, converses with them and ultimately kills them (Fig. 33). As Leonard Kurtz explains, in the poem “Death is depicted as an abstract concept, personified to a high degree. He enters into the social life of mankind and strikes him down with a javelin.” 403 The poem is illustrated with thirty miniatures, twenty-six of which show individual victims, two depict scenes of Hell and torture and two small ones portray the figure of the Lacteur who provides the prologue and the epilogue. In contrast to the Danse, however, the figures in the Mors are not arranged hierarchically. The upper sections of the poem feature Biblical characters (Adam and Eve, Cain and Abel or Noah) while in the middle sections are figures that represent specific social types (the King, the Cardinal, the Queen, or the Money-Changer) all of which are haphazardly placed. The poem also includes an impressive number of women, ten overall. Although presently extant in a single manuscript the Mors appears to have been quite influential at the time. According to Mâle, in the late fifteenth century, the poem was famous enough to have inspired border imagery included in a printed Book of Hours published in Paris by Simon Vostre c. 1512, which shows Death attacking individual victims in a series of vignettes. 404 Mâle even argued that the composition of the Mors, which links Death with Original Sin and adapts the Danse by portraying not the whole of community dancing together, but independent scenes in which Death strikes its victims at their places of rest or work, have influenced 402 The manuscript, which contains 116 folios, is a compilation of various works associated with Miélot. Although it includes a preface written by Miélot and dated 1468, it is possible that the works were assembled over time and that not all of them were completed by this date. For a facsimile edition of Le Mors de la Põmme section of the manuscript see Leonard P. Kurtz, ed. Le Mors de la Põme, 1937 (New York: Publications of the Institute of French Studies, 1975). 403 Ibid. v. 404 Mâle 347. For examples of border imagery featured in Vostre’s edition from 1512 see Mâle, page 346, figures 217 and 218. 152 Holbein’s Simulachres. First published in 1538, the Simulachres also begins with Adam and Eve and is characterized by genre images in which Death attacks specific characters (Figs. 16 and 17). 405 More recently, Gertsman suggested that the poem might have served as inspiration for the mural of the Danse painted at the church of La Chaise-Dieu in the 1470s, which includes images of Adam and Eve and the Original Sin on the pillars incorporated into the Dance of Death (Fig. 28). At present no direct connection between the Mors and des Femmes can be made, though similarities between the two works suggest that Marchant may have been familiar with the manuscript. 406 The existence of these works demonstrates that by the 1480s in France there was an increased interest in the subject of women’s Dance of Death as well as a tendency to adapt and expand the Danse by linking it more specifically to Original sin in moralizing and allegorical poems. Women’s Dance of Death: Layout and Content Like the men’s Danse, des Femmes had literary origns. The earliest known manuscript that includes the des Femmes poem dates from 1482 (BN, Ms. fonds 405 Ibid. 347. More recently, another scholar has shown that Holbein’s woodcutter Hans Lützelburger had based the composition of many of his images in the Picture of Death series on miniatures depicting the Labors of the Month from a sixteenth century printed Book of Hours, which is certainly in keeping with the spirit of the transitional period in which such exchanges were very common, but the idea to include Original Sin and place the figures in independent vignettes may indeed have come from the Mors poem. See Stephanie Buck, “International Exchange: Holbein at the Crossroads of Art and Craftsmanship”, Hans Holbein: Paintings, Prints and Reception, eds. Mark Roskill and John Oliver Hand (W ashington, London and New Haven: National Gallery of Art and Yale UP, 2001) 54-67. 406 In the second chapter I discussed the possibility of Marchant being of Flemish origin. If this is indeed true, it would be interesting to research his connection with the court of Burgundy. W e will recall that Philip the Fair, the Duke of Burgundy has been discussed as a potential patron of the Danse macabre mural painted at the Innocents and the Burgundian court seems to have had a particular predilection for macabre art and the Danse in general. Since the Mors poem was found in a manuscript containing works by Jean Miélot, who was employed by the Duke of Burgundy, there is even more reason to look into this connection. 153 français 1186) and the poem is also featured in three other manuscripts, the last one dating from 1519. 407 On July 7, 1486, however, Marchant printed the first edition of des Femmes. The verses used in Marchant’s book are virtually identical to those found in the manuscripts although he added two more female characters (L’Abesse and La Prieure) bringing the number of women from thirty-two found in Ms. 10032 and Ms. 25434 to thirty-four. 408 As is evident from the following list, the women are not just characterized by status and occupation, but also by stage in the life span. Included in Marchant’s 1486 edition are: L’acteur, the Four Dead Musicians, La royne (the Queen), La duchesse (the Duchess), La regente (the Regent), La femme du chevalier (the Knight’s Lady), Labesse (the Abbess), La femme du lescuier (the Squire’s Lady), La prieuse (the Prioress), La damoiselle (the Debutante), La bourgoise (the Townswoman), La femme vefue (the W idow), La marchande (the Merchant W oman), La balliue (the Bailiff’s Lady), Lespousee (the Bride), La femme mignote (the Darling W ife or the Spoiled W ife), La pucelle vierge (the Virgin), La theologienue (the Theologian), La nouvelle mariee (the Newlywed), La femme grosse (the Pregnant W oman), La chamberiere (the Chambermaid), La recommanderesse (the Hosteler), La vielle damoiselle (the Old Debutante), La cordeliere (The Francsican Nun), La femme daccueil (the Friendly Woman), La nourrice (the W etnurse), La bergiere (the Shepherdess), La femme aux potences (the W oman on Crutches), La femme de village (the Village W oman), La vielle (the Old W oman), La revenderesse (the Saleswoman), La femme amoureuse (the 407 For a discussion of the manuscripts in which the des Femmes poem is featured see Harrison, “The Text.” The other three manuscripts that contain the poem are: BN, Nouvelles Acquisitions françaises 10032, BN, Ms. fonds. français 25434 and Arsenal, Ms. 3637. 408 It is unclear who wrote the verses for the additional figures. As Oosterwijk explains, medieval texts were “subject to scribal variance and the additional stanzas may have already been in circulation.” In other words, there is no proof that Marchant commissioned a writer to compose the new text. See Sophie Oosterwijk, “’Alas Poor Yorick.’ Death, the fool, the mirror and the danse macabre”, Narren – Masken – Karneval: Meisterwerke vön Dürer bis Kubin aus der Düsseldorfer Graphiksammlung “Mensch und Tod”, ed. Stephanie Knöll (Regensburg: Schnell & Steiner, 2009) 20-32, 26. 154 Prostitute), La garde dacouchees (the Bathhouse Attendant) 409 , La ieunne fille (the Girl), La religieuse (the Nun), La sorciere (the W itch), La royne morte (the Dead Queen), Lactuer. 410 Marchant’s editorial input is evident from the way he expanded the textual framework of the book. As discussed earlier, the introductory colophon names the work the Miroer salutaire and outlines the intended usage of the book as a devotional tool for the betterment of the reader. Marchant also expanded the Author’s prologue and inserted the woodcut and the verses of the Four Dead Musicians – figures he first introduced in the augmented edition of the men’s Danse from 1486 – and placed it as the beginning of the dancing sequence (Fig. 9). Most notably, the printer added the illustrated poems of the Debat and the Complainte and placed them at the end of the book. That Marchant intended the three works to function as a coherent unit is evident from the final colophon where he states: Ce petit livre contient trois choses: Cest la danse macabre des femes. Le debat du corps et de lame Et la complainte de lame dampnee. Even though the verses are fully reproduced in the book, Marchant’s 1486 edition of des Femmes is only partially illustrated. Since the men’s Danse was such a success – selling out three editions in only nine months – Marchant may have wanted to claim the market for the Dance of Death books for himself and hence rushed to publish the women’s Danse before he had a full set of illustrations, something he remedied in the edition from 1491. The 1486 edition therefore features only four woodcuts three of which (the Author, the Four Dead Musicians and the 409 For a discussion of this role see Ann Tukey Harrison, “Fifteenth-Century French W omen’s Role Names”, The French Review 62, (1989): 436-444. As Harrison explains, the compound term garde d’acouchees is not documented in other contemporary sources. The word acouchee was used since the fourteenth century and refers to a woman giving birth. Garde (watcher) is an even older term, first recorded in the tenth century. However, the woman described in the Danse is not a midwife. Rather, the verses seem to describe a woman who works in a bathhouse: Iay voyrement dresse maintz baingz/Pour les comperes et commeres (I have certainly arranged a lot of baths/For men and women). If she is indeed a bathhouse attendant, Harrison wonders why the author did not use the term estuviere, which was commonly used in the fifteenth century to refer to this profession. 410 The English translations of the roles of women are taken from Harrison, The Danse Macabre of Women 46-133. 155 Author with the Dead King) have been published in previous editions of the Danse. Only one woodcut, showing the opening pair of the Queen and the Duchess, has been designed specifically for this edition. The first fully illustrated edition of des Femmes, was published in April of 1491 at which point Marchant had added two new female figures la Bigote (the Hypocrite) and La Sotte (the Female-Fool), which brought the final number of characters to thirty-six (Fig. 42). 411 Ending the women’s Danse with the figure of the Female-Fool and not the W itch, as was the case with the 1486 edition, was probably meant to complement the men’s Danse, which also included the Fool as the last living figure. 412 The 1491 edition is thus the first fully illustrated version of des Femmes and one that includes the highest number of female figures. 413 The identity of the artist who designed the woodcuts for Marchant’s edition of the des Femmes has never been established. W e will recall that Pierre Le Rouge, the famous woodcutter and a printer, has been named as a potential designer of the Danse macabre des hommes illustrations and his close connection with both Vérard and Marchant certainly gives validity to such claims. W e also know that Le Rouge had published Vérard’s edition of the men’s Danse c.1492 and that he also designed the striking woodcuts depicting the pains of Hell used in Vérard’s edition of L’arte bene moriendi and later borrowed by Marchant for his editions of the Compost et Kalendrier des bergiers (Figs. 36 and 37). However, in the late 1480s and early 1490s, the time period during which the woodcuts for des Femmes were likely designed, Le Rouge was busy putting together the impressively illustrated Le Mer des histoire and working as l’imprimeur du roi (the King’s printer) and it seems unlikely that he would be commissioned to design the cuts for the women’s 411 The electronic facsimile of this edition preserved at the BN (Rés. Ye. 86) can be found at http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/btv1b2200006t 412 The Fool was one of the ten new figures added in June of 1486 to Marchant’s augmented edition. Marchant had also updated the 1491 edition by adding a new woodcut of the Author, now shown indoors writing and reading from an open book, and a revised version of the Four Dead Musicians created by the same woodcutter that designed the other images in the book. 413 Unless otherwise noted, my analysis of des Femmes will reference this edition. 156 Danse. 414 In his study on the Paris presses, Anatole Claudin has noted that the woodcuts found in des Femmes are not designed by the same artist who worked on the men’s Danse, while Henri Monceaux argued that it may have been another Le Rouge who designed the cuts, possibly Guillaume, Pierre’s son or Nicolas, his nephew. 415 W hether it was a member of the Le Rouge family or another woodcutter altogether that designed the illustrations for des Femmes, it is important to emphasize that contrary to the men’s Danse which was available in two renditions of woodcuts, one produced for Marchant and the other for Vérard, this was the only version of the women’s Danse that was used in France at the time. On Death and Dancing Three aspects of des Femmes differentiate this work from the men’s Danse: women are portrayed as more submissive and more willing to dance, the verses and woodcuts include references to the female body as a site of corruption while the interaction between women and cadavers often carries specific sexualized connotations, and the series references late fifteenth century Paris and the urban context. In the literature on des Femmes, scholars often point out that just like men, women in the book resist the Danse and refuse to move along with the cadavers. 416 However, while it is true that women often complain or resist the dead in the verses, for example, the Duchess cries out that she is not even thirty years old (Je nay pas encore trent ans) and the Debutante protests that she is being taken away against her will (Oultre mon gre et voulente), I would argue that the confrontation between women and cadavers in the images is portrayed in much more subtle terms. In the men’s Danse, cadavers continually push or pull the living into the dance and nearly every male character displays signs of an open resistance. Consider, for instance, 414 On Le Rouge’s career see Monceaux. In 1492, Pierre did publish an octavo edition containing a poem of Martial d’Auvergne, Le Louanges de la Vierge Marie. 415 Monceaux 43. 416 See for instance the study by Harrison, The Danse Macabre of Women. 157 the figure of the Knight who crosses his arms in defiance and stubbornly refuses to move or the Squire, who turns his entire body away from Death, raises one arm in refusal and is even trying to walk away (Figs. 29 and 30). In contrast, most women turn their bodies towards the cadavers and only some of them raise their hands in protest or turn their heads away (Fig. 43). Among the thirty-six women in the final version of the book, only six are portrayed as openly confronting the dead, as opposed to seventeen men. Moreover, in the men’s Danse the cadavers hold hands with only two figures (the Bishop and the Canon), yet in des Femmes they hold hands with nearly every woman in the procession (Fig. 44). The gesture of handholding implies that women are partaking in the Danse more willingly than their male counterparts, while at the same time it also functions to emphasize the act of dancing by visually unifying figures across multiple folios. That the figures (both dead and living) are actually dancing together is especially well captured in the woodcut depicting the Regent and the Knight’s Lady (Fig. 45). In the image, the exuberant nature of the dance causes the Regent’s frontlet (the long part of her headdress that frames the face) and especially the cadaver’s shroud to billow wildly in the air. The bodies of the Regent and the middle cadaver are also synchronized – they both extend one leg and turn their heads to the right – thus highlighting the uniform choreography of the Danse. A similar unity in movement is observed in the woodcut showing the Townswoman and the W idow, where the W idow twists her torso and crosses her legs thus mimicking the body position of the cadaver on the far left. In the literature on the macabre art, the allegory of dance in the Danse has been interpreted in multiple ways and there is no cons ensus as to what it actually signifies. Gertsman has argued that the Dance of Death can be understood as a visual representation of the moment of passing away. 417 The image shows the viewer exactly what death takes away in the final moments: the ability to move, to see, to hear and, ultimately, to be. 418 For this reason, according to Gertsman, it is the dead who are dancing and moving widely, while the living figures appear stiff 417 Gertsman 69. 418 Ibid. 69. 158 and immobile since they have already lost their ability to dance. 419 On the other hand, Eustace has noted the subtle ways in which the bodies of the living and the dead actually mirror one another, which she argues corresponds to the norm of the fifteenth century dance styles and denotes a more complex way of reading class relations. 420 However, the difficulty in pinpointing the meaning of dance in the Danse may also be tied to the fact that in the Middle Ages dancing had a polyvalent meaning and was presented as both angelic and divine as well as sinful and diabolical. 421 Nevertheless, in the context of the Danse books (both men’s and women’s series) evidence suggests that dancing and music-playing is represented in negative terms, not as a sign of aristocratic refinement or the heavenly sphere, but as a symbol of inversion and even a practice associated with Hell and damnation. The woodcut depicting the Four Dead Musicians is particularly evocative in this regard (Fig. 9). 422 The image depicts a musical quartet with four cadavers each playing a particular instrument (from the left): a bagpipe, an organetto (or portative organ), a harp and a pipe and tabor. Rather than just posing with the instruments, the dead musicians are portrayed actively playing them – the harpist picks the strings with his bony fingers, while the last cadaver drums the tabor – thus adding a crucial performative element and imbuing the silent and fixed medium of the book with specific auditory reference clarifying that what is being viewed is indeed a dance. The idea that Death can play instruments and produce music emphasizes the topsy-turvy element of the Danse and the same can be said about the selection of 419 Ibid. 69. 420 Eustace 68. 421 An excellent summary of the different meanings of dance in the Middle Ages can be found in Gertsman, The Dance of Death, especially chapter 2. 422 I should note here that authors still debate about whether or not the mural at the Innocents featured musicians as well. For Gertsman, evidence is inconclusive, Oosterwijk claims that it likely did not include music-playing cadavers. However, such figures did appear in other examples that predate the printed books, such as for instance in the Totendanz block book from the 1450s and were thus not Marchant’s invention. 159 instruments portrayed. 423 Instruments such as the bagpipe and pipe and tabor were associated with public processions and carnivals while string instruments such as the harp bear connection with heavenly music or with the King David, the composer of the Psalms and Biblical prototype of the harp-player. 424 Angels in Heaven are also frequently depicted playing harps while the organetto was often played in churches and occurs in connection with clerics. 425 The juxtaposition of both ‘heavenly’ and carnivalesque instruments is of course not accidental and it is in fact ques tionable to what extent the loud strident sounds of the bagpipe and the pipe and tabor would fit the more melodic music produced by the harp and the organetto. In other words, are the Four Dead Musicians really making music or merely producing noise? W e know that the music being played in the Danse was not pleasant because the King complains that he is not accustomed to dancing to such a savage tune (Je nay point apris a danser/A danseet not si sauvaigez). According to theological tradition, Hell has no music, only noise, and the usage of musical instruments as tools of torture was frequently evoked in the late fifteenth century eschatological imagery, most notably in Hieronymus Bosch’s depiction of Hell in the Garden of Earthly Delights (c. 1490-1510) in which sinners are tormented by devils playing a variety of instruments. 426 In the verses of the Danse, dancing is repeatedly associated with vanity and foolish behavior. In the men’s Danse, the dead tell the Minstrel, who unlike the Dead Musicians no longer plays the instrument, his lute is on the ground, that his music and dancing have long entertained male and female fools (Menestrel qui danses et notes / Sauvez et avez beau maintien/ Pour faire esioir sos et sotes). Many women in des Femmes, especially those from the upper classes, described their lives as 423 The most recent discussion of instruments and music playing cadavers in the Danse can be found in W arda, “Dance, Music and the Reversal of the Natural Order,” 73-100. See also: Reinhold Hammerstein, Tanz und Musik des Todes: die mittelalterlichen Totendänzen und ihr Nachleben (Bern and Munich: Francke, 1980) and Kathi Meyer-Baer, Music of the Spheres and the Dance of Death: Studies in Musical Iconology (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1970). 424 W arda 78. 425 Ibid. 78. 426 Ibid. 81. The bagpipe is a particularly apt instrument for the Danse because it is made from dead animals. 160 being filled with enjoyment and dance. For example, the Regent lists feasts, weddings and parties as well as musical instruments that have provided great entertainment for her (Quant me souvient des tabourins /Nopces festes harpes trompetes/ Menestrelx doulcines clarins/ Et des grans cheres que iay faictes). The only figure in the men’s Danse who is actually dancing with the dead is the Fool, the significance of which I will elaborate later in the chapter (le Sot) (Fig. 35). Shown dressed in the Fool’s costume and carrying a marrotte, the Fool smiles at Death and is shown lifting his right foot off the ground, moving in the direction of the dance. 427 Women, Sin and the Gender of Death Yet women, as I argued, appear more willing to dance and the act of dancing is more emphasized in the women’s series. W hile it is possible that this is merely a product of design, it could also refer to attitudes about women that were persistent in moralistic literature and art of the period. As descendents of Eve, women were held responsible for the loss of paradise and labeled as temptresses and sinners. 428 The patristic literature of the fourth and the fifth century, which was still read widely in the later Middle Ages and informed the theological thought of the period, was especially responsible for promoting such negative views of women. For Tertullian, Eve was the eternal temptress and Augustine, again relying on the typology of Eve, preached that in women “the good Christian … likes what is human [quod home est], loathes what is feminine [quod uxor est].” 429 Such language is particularly revealing as it implies that humanity is essentially an attribute of the male gender. 430 For early Church Fathers, evil was identified with the flesh and sexual desire was, from the 427 The same observation regarding the Fool dancing was also made by Oosterwijk in her article on the fool. See Oosterwijk, “Alas Poor Yorick” 26. 428 On patristic literature and attitudes towards women see Christa Grössinger, Picturing Women in Late Medieval and Renaissance Art (Manchester and New York: Manchester UP, 1997). 429 Quoted in Larissa Taylor, Soldiers of Christ 157. 430 Ibid. 157. 161 start, linked to death as sign of “fallenness.” 431 That death and the Original Sin were intrinsically linked is also evident from the fact that the word “cadaver” comes from the Latin cadere, meaning, “to fall”. 432 For St Jerome, whose Adversus Jovianum written c. 393 was especially critical of women and influenced much of medieval thinking on the subject - merely touching a woman has evil consequences and that a presence of the wife could distract a husband from his prayer. 433 Such views are reflected even in the sermons of a fifteenth-century French preacher like the Franciscan Michel Menot (d. 1518) who employed specifically macabre themes to evoke his disgust of beautiful women: “Nothing comes from a beautiful woman but fetor … Alas, that which is pleasing in this world, is nothing but stench!” 434 A very similar attitude towards female flesh is also noted in the verses of des Femmes, particularly in the stanzas delivered by the Four Musicians, which emphasize gruesome aspects of bodily decomposition and putrefaction. Consider the verses of the Second Musician: Quoy sont voz corps: ie vous demande Femmes iolies tant bien paree: Ilz sont pour certain la viande Qun iour sera aux vers donne. Des vers sera doncques devoree Vostre cher qui est fresche et tendre Ja il nen demourra goulee. Voz vers apres deviendront cendre. Such focus on the corporeality of women, on their fresh and tender bodies (Vostre cher qui est fresche et tendre) and on their corpses becoming food for worms (Ilz sont pour certain la viande/Qun iour sera aux vers donne), is very different from the 431 Koerner 294. 432 Ibid. 294. 433 Grössinger, Picturing Women 1. 434 Quoted in Taylor, Soldiers of Christ 158. The text in Latin reads: “Non potest exire de pulcherrima muliere mundi nisi fetor …. O quicquid est in hoc mundo placens, non est nisi fetor.” 162 men’s Danse in which we do not encounter the same fascination with the body and the flesh. W hile the first Musician in the men’s Danse warns of putrefaction (Et ils seron menge de vers), the other three discuss the dangers of not contemplating death and remind the living that we are all mortal, hence focus more on salvation than decomposition. Although it is true, as Larisa Taylor has shown, that late medieval preachers in France did not always evoke only negative attitudes towards women in their sermons and in fact often praised women for their compassion and devotion, this was nevertheless the prevailing view. 435 That death is linked to the Original Sin and in turn to Eve as the instigator of the sinful act in the Garden of Eden was the dominant thesis in the allegorical poem the Mors de la Pomme and the same view is even expressed in Michault’s Dance aux aveluges which as we will recall also discusses Adam and Eve in the section on Death. 436 As the ordained priest and the official printer for the college of Navarre – a school known for its ascetic views – Marchant was certainly well acquainted with religious writing on women, but I wish to suggest that in putting the woodcuts for des Femmes together he also relied on moralistic and satirical prints popular in Northern Europe at the time, which often centered on women as source of men’s foolish behavior or even death. In her study of secular and satirical prints, Christa Grössinger has shown that during the transitional period of bookmaking, prints and engravings replaced 435 Ibid. 172. Late medieval preachers praised women for their compassion in healing the sick and for their religious devotion. Sermons by preacher Guillaume Pepin (c. 1463-1533), for example, did not categorize women as personifications of either Good or Evil, but discussed everyday problems of women with compassion and sympathy and often recalled examples of independent and strong minded women. For a discussion of Pepin’s sermons on women see Larissa Taylor, “Images of W omen in the Sermons of Guillaume Pepin (c. 1463-1533)”, Journal of Canadian Historical Association 5.1 (1994): 265-276. 436 It is interesting, however, to note that according to Taylor many important late medieval preachers preferred to place the blame for the trespass in the Garden of Eden on Adam rather than Eve. For instance Menot – the same preacher who expressed such disgust towards female beauty – shows little sympathy for Adam and argues that his attempt to blame the act on Eve alone, only made things worse. Likewise, Guillaume Pepin, Menot’s contemporary, finds both sexes equally culpable and finds it upsetting that men place all the blame on women, without attributing part of their salvation to a woman. See Taylor, Soldiers of Christ 158. 163 medieval model books and were used as patterns for a production of art in multiple media, from enamel beakers and wooden caskets to manuscript illumination. 437 While borrowing from secular and profane prints was especially prominent in the Netherlands, it was also done in France especially in the last decades of the century. For example, the Book of Hours of Charles d’Angoulême (BN, Latin MS. 1173), produced in the early 1480s, features forty-three identifiable examples of miniatures derived from print models. 438 A number of these miniatures are based on secular and profane prints including those that emphasize the folly of love or the Power of W omen theme. 439 It is possible then to argue, especially in light of the fact that Marchant had no pictorial model to work from, that the woodcuts in des Femmes are also, at least in part, modeled after such imagery. In secular prints and engravings of the period, the encounter between men and women is often sexually charged – a point I want to argue is also present in des Femmes in ways that has not been discussed much in the past. In the first edition of des Femmes, which was only partially illustrated, the cadavers are referred to in the text as la morte (the dead woman). By 1491, however, when Marchant issued the fully illustrated edition the word was changed to la mort (Death), a modification that I do not believe is accidental. In his discussion of the series, Mâle, who did not actually acknowledge the change in terminology between the 1486 and 1491 editions, argued unequivocally that the dead in des Femmes represent female corpses because many have strands of hair still hanging 437 See Christa Grössinger, Humor and Folly in Secular and Profane Prints of Northern Europe, 1430-1540 (London and Turnhout: Harvey Miller, 2002), especially chapter 2, “Prints as Pattern”, 13-53. 438 Ibid. 28. On this manuscript see Anne Matthews, “The Use of Prints in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême”, Print Quarterly 3 (1986): 4-17. 439 For example, a border illustration for the August calendar page in the Hours of Charles d’Angoulême depicts an image of a man pushing a wheelbarrow with his drunken wife in it. W hile the themes of secular and profane prints varied, they typically centered on women as reasons for men’s wild erratic behavior, on peasants, often featured as bawdy, and soldiers. Bibliography on this subject is vast, one of the first studies on the subject was Keith Moxey, Peasants, Warriors and Wives: Popular Imagery in the Reformation (Chicago and London: Chicago UP, 1989). 164 on their skulls. 440 A similar view was later expressed in Jane Taylor’s study on the theme of the mirror in the Danse in which she argued, partially relying on Mâle, that the cadavers in the woodcuts represent the future mirror images of women, which is to say female corpses. 441 Given the history of macabre representations, however, I am inclined to question such assumptions. Although Death is typically genderless, there are a number of macabre images in which the sex of the corpse, especially the female corpse, is rendered with particular detail. For instance, in the famous Imago Mortis woodcut included in Hartmann Schedel’s Liber Chronicarum (Nuremberg Chronicle) published in 1493, which shows four cadavers dancing at a cemetery and one emerging from a grave, the figure on the far right with her guts spilling out, is a dead woman. 442 Her long blond hair falls down her back, while one of her breasts is sagging awkwardly. A female cadaver, hairless but again with sagging breasts, was also included in the Totendanz blockbook from c.1455 and there were at least two specifically male cadavers featured in Vérard’s version of Danse macabre des hommes woodcuts. 443 In des Femmes, however, such obvious allusion to the gender of death is not actually portrayed. Although it is true that many cadavers in the book are depicted with strands of hair hanging from their skulls, this does not mean they are necessarily representations of female cadavers. After all, men in the late fifteenth century typically had longer hair – the Knight, the Squire, or the Lover in the Danse are depicted with shoulder-length hair (Figs. 29, 30 and 34). Moreover, many cadavers in des Femmes have a particularly masculine physique with broad shoulders and some even have flaps of skin that hang suggestively between their legs, which could indicate that they are male rather than female corpses (Fig. 46). This is all the more likely when we consider the interaction between cadavers and women in the book, which is often rendered in particularly sexualized terms. For instance, when death tells the Newlywed that she will be put in the ground (Au 440 Mâle 335. 441 Taylor, “Un Miroer Salutaire”, 34. 442 Reproduced in Oosterwijk, “Dance, Dialogue and Duality,” page 10, figure 1. 443 For an electronic facsimile of this edition preserved at the University Library of Heidelberg as Cod. Pal. germ. 438, http://digi.ub.uni-heidelberg.de/diglit/cpg438 165 iourduy serez mise en terre), she replies that Death weighs heavily on her (Mais la mort de trop pres me charge). 444 On the other hand Death is much more direct with the Bride, portrayed with beautiful long hair and a belted dress. Addressing her, the corpse suggests that she needs to take its hand and take off her clothes (Sa la main espousee iolie/ Allons nous en deshabiller) to which the Bride responds that she has hoped for a special joy in her life on that day (En la iournee quavoye desir/ Davoir quelque ioye en ma vie). Such evocative language is perhaps nowhere as pronounced as in the pairing of Death and the Prostitute (Fig. 47). Dressed in a tight V-neck bodice, the Prostitute arches her back and gazes flirtatiously at the cadaver. Not only is she willingly participating in the dance, the Prostitute lures Death by offering it a flower, probably a red rose. In the famous thirteenth century allegorical poem the Roman de la Rose, which was still popular in the late fifteenth century and actually printed in at least ten incunabula editions, the “rose” in the title symbolized both the name of a woman and female genitalia. 445 In the poem, which is rich with symbolism and moralizing warnings about lust and love, the sleeping figure of the Lover enters a garden and becomes infatuated with a rosebush enclosed by a hedge. In the hand-colored woodcut included in Vérard’s composite edition of the Roman de la Rose, published in 1494/95, we see the figure of the Lover at the moment he plucks the rose from the rosebush and gazes at it lovingly. 446 The flower is certainly the dominant feature in the portrayal of the Prostitute in des Femmes. She holds a plucked flower in each hand, has one tucked into the decorative band on her headdress and the bottom of her dress is covered with them. 447 In other words, as the woodcut tells us, the Prostitute is in bloom. 444 Harrison, “The Text,” 9. 445 The poem was first written in 1237 by Guillaume de Lorris and then finished in 1277 by Jean de Meun. It is a quintessential example of French courtly love poetry and it is rich with allegory and symbolism. 446 For an illustration of this image see Virginia Tuttle Clayton, Gardens on Paper: Prints and Drawings, 1200-1900 (W ashington, DC: National Gallery of Art, 1990), figure 21, page 34. 447 In her discussion of the Prostitute in des Femmes, Sandra Hindman argues that the woman is wearing a “fetching floral-patterned robe”, but I am not convinced that 166 The pairing of Death and the Prostitute recalls popular prints that satirize the theme of courtly love and depict lovers, typically in a garden setting. In the Large Garden of Love by the Neatherlandish Master of the Garden of Love, c. 1450, which is meant as an inverted reference to the idyllic garden in the Roman de la Rose, we see young couples fashionably dressed offering each other food and drink, playing cards, making wreaths and playing music. 448 Such a tranquil place, however, also includes moralizing symbols intended to warn the viewer of the dangers and foolishness of love, most notably the unicorn, a symbol of Christ, shown on the right hand side in the middle of the image, who dips its horn into the stream in order to purify the water and erase the sinful acts taking place in the garden. 449 Compositionally closer to Death and the Prostitute are prints and engravings depicting couples such as, Van Meckenem’s “The Knight and His Lady”, part of the Scenes from Daily Life series produced c. 1493-1503, or the bawdy engraving by Master E.S., A Couple Embracing, c.1460 (Fig. 48). 450 In van Meckenem’s image, the Knight and the Lady are placed in an exterior setting and are shown gazing at each other, much like Death and the Prostitute in the Danse. W hile the Knight places his left arm around the Lady she in turn points to the keys and the purse hanging from her belt – symbols of her power and avaricious nature – and puts her hand behind her back in a gesture of rejection. 451 A less subtle portrayal of the dangerous allure of women is seen in the image by Master E.S. The man – shown with his sword hanging between his legs, fondles the woman’s breast while she makes a token gesture of resistance and at the same time gazes flirtatiously at the viewer. In both images, it is the woman who has the power (Fig. 48). 452 the flowers on the dress are actual pattern decorations since they are not distributed equally over the entire garment. 448 Reproduced and discussed in Grössinger, Humor and Folly 108-109, figure 119. 449 Grössinger, Humor and Folly 108. 450 Van Meckenem series is discussed and reproduced in Grössinger, Humor and Folly, pages 75-77, figures 82, 83 and 84. 451 Ibid 74. 452 Parenthetically, I should note that the link between women, lust and Death developed in the early sixteenth century in Germany into the theme of Death and the Maiden portrayed by artists such as Hans Baldung Grien, Hans Sebald Beham and others. In her study of the theme, Jean W irth had famously argued that the Death 167 Despite such an enticing portrayal of the Prostitute in the Danse, the verses that accompany the image are more subdued and, in fact, recall sermons by popular preachers at the time. Although Death calls the Prostitute a worthless woman (Femme de petite value), she in turn places the blame for her sin at those who have not guided her well and led her astray (Pedus sotet ceulx qui my ont mise/ Et au mestier habandonnee/ Las se ieusse estoy bien menee/ Et conduite premierment). A similar criticism can be found in contemporary sermons in which preachers repeatedly underline that creating the opportunity for sin by placing women in morally questionable environments or situations was at the root of the problem. 453 For instance, Menot argued – echoing the verses of the Prostitute – that if a woman was properly brought up in an honest surrounding she would not succumb to the sin of prostitution. 454 More than giving in to carnal sin, women in des Femme are criticized for being vain, envious or avaricious, which are precisely the sins often evoked in sermons and also portrayed in satirical prints of the period. W hile only a few men in the Danse – figures such as the Merchant or the Usurer – are shown carrying money bags, a large number of women in des Femmes have one or even two pouches hanging from their belts. That a Merchant woman or the Resaleswoman would need and the Maiden theme developed directly out of the Danse macabre tradition, but more recent studies by Joseph Leo Koerner and Stefanie Knöll have challenged that view and actually linked the theme to the discourse of popular prints, especially representations of Voluptas. Moreover, Knöll has argued that the theme of Death and the Maiden diverges significantly from the Danse because women in such imagery do not resist Death and are almost always depicted nude or semi-nude. While I agree with Knöll, I also believe that the pairing of Death and the Prostitute in the Danse functions along similar lines, emphasizing the sexual tension between the figures and denoting the Prostitute’s willingness to flirt and lure Death. For a discussion of Death and the Maiden theme see: Jean W irth, La Jeune Fille et la Mort: Recherches sur les thèmes macabres dans l’art germanique de la Renaissance (Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1979); Koerner, The Moment of Self- Portraiture; and most recently Stefanie Knöll, “Death and the Maiden”, Women and Death: Representation of Female Victims and Perpetrators in German Culture 1500- 2000, eds. Helen Fronius and Anna Linton, Studies in German Literature, Linguistics and Culture (Rochester, New York: Camden House, 2008) 9-27. 453 Taylor, Soldiers of Christ 170. 454 Ibid. 170. 168 a money-bag is clear, but they are also included in the depictions of the W itch and even the Young Girl, who in theory would not need one, and thus signify more than just a representation of a practical accessory. As in Van Meckenem’s portrayal of “The Knight and His Lady”, the purses in des Femmes are symbols of avarice and the women’s love of material possessions. 455 The fact that a money-bag is worn by women of different professions and of different ages (the Young Girl, the Pregnant W oman and the Spinster) is also meant to suggest that avarice is a sin engrained in women from the beginning and follows them through their lives. 456 In the verses, the Debutante laments that she will have to lose her headdresses, her clothing, youth and beauty (Que me valet mes gras atours/ Mes habitz ieunesse beaute), while the Spoiled W ife list her material possessions and the fact that she has a successful husband as main reasons she regrets having to dance with Death (Jay mary de si bon affaire/ Aneaulx robes neuf ou dix paire). Even the Young Girl cries out to her mother to take care of her most beloved things: her dolls, her stones and her beautiful coat (Pour dieu quo garde ma poupee/ Mes cinq pierres ma belle cotte). Such dependence on material possessions – and especially beautiful clothing or jewelry – was particularly condemned by the preachers. Evoking a memento mori, the Franciscan friar Olivier Maillard (d. 1503) warns women where such love of things will lead: “W hen you are at the hour of death and see a thousand devils at your side who want to take your soul, then you will wish that you never had led such a life of pomp and excess. Take care!” 457 W omen’s propensity for gossip and mindless chatter is also emphasized in the verses. La mort accuses the Bailiff’s wife of chitchatting in the church, instead of listening to the sermon (Apres ma madame la ballive/ Des quaquetz tenus en leglise), while the Chambermaid is criticized for gossiping at the oven or window (Bauer au four na la fenestre). In the poem workingwomen were reprimanded for tricking or stealing from their Masters or from their customers. W hile it is true that women in des Femmes seem to accept Death more willingly – some even embrace 455 See footnote 450. 456 Hindman, “The Illustrations” 18. 457 Quoted in Taylor, Soldiers of Christ 159. 169 it (the Franciscan, the Old Debutante, or the Prioress, for example) – as in the men’s Danse, the poem does not include specific references to either God or salvation and thus appears closer to a satirical portrayal than a serious didactic allegory. The Here-and-Now: Paris and the Urban Context While it is clear from Marchant’s introductory colophon that he intended the book to be a didactic tool, it would be a mistake to assume that this is the only way it was actually used. Part of the appeal of the Danse, even in the monumental mural examples placed in churches and cemeteries, was the satirical dialogue between the living and the dead and the hierarchical portrayal of social types. In other words, the Danse was as much about humor and social critique, as it was about the solemn and the serious. This is perhaps nowhere as obvious as in des Femmes, which, as Sandra Hindman has pointed out, is predicated on “a sense of the nitty-gritty of day- to-day life and a tone of social satire.” 458 Although the theme of the Danse was first painted in Paris in 1424-25 and the verses that accompanied the mural may have also been composed there, the men’s Danse does not emphasize its urban origin openly. In contrast, the des Femmes poem is composed using Parisian Middle French and the city is also referenced in the verses. 459 For example, the Squire’s Lady laments that she will never be able to wear the textile she purchased at a fair (Javoye achete au lendit/ Du drap pour taindre en escarlete). The lendit mentioned in the verses refers to the annual fair held in the plain of St. Denis north of Paris. 460 It was one of the oldest fairs in Europe, founded by King Dagobert in the seventh century and by the time the verses of des Femmes were composed it was renowned especially for its selection of textiles. 461 In another example, the Theologian mentions the Petit Pont, a bridge that connects the Latin Quarter with the Ile de la Cité (Femme qui de clergie 458 Hindman, “The Illustrations” 17. 459 Harrison, “The Text” 9. 460 Harrison and Hindman 62. 461 Ibid. 62. The fair was held between June 11-24. 170 respond/Pour avoir bruit ou quon lescoute/ Est des morues de petit pont/Qui ont grans yeulx et ne voient goute). 462 The poem’s continual reference to specifically Parisian sites and events makes this version of the Danse conceptually similar to the Hanseatic Dance of Death paintings, which were unique because they featured elaborate townscapes in the background. Painted in Lübeck at the Church of St. Mary’s in 1463 and in Reval (Tallinn) at the Church of St. Nicholas sometime after 1463 by the artist Bernt Notke (d. 1508), the two paintings are closely related, yet also quite different. 463 W e will recall that in a typical portrayal of the Danse the background is left purposely generic – the flowery exterior locale we see in Marchant’s cuts, for example – and the image focuses instead on the dancers, gestures and especially the decomposing bodies of cadavers. There is often little in the composition of the Danse that distracts the viewer from the main narrative or gives reprieve from the vivid didactic lesson portrayed in the image. 464 But, this is not the case with the Hanseatic examples. As Gertsman has shown, the exactness with which the cityscapes are replicated in the Lübeck and the Reval paintings where recognizable landmarks of both cities are clearly demarcated, transforms the abstracted didactic lesson about the equalizing power of death and locates it in the ‘here-and-now’ of the beholder. 465 For the viewer, this is an important change as it not only transports the spectator into the realm of the image, but also because of it makes the Danse more impactful and perhaps also more horrifying. Although des Femmes does not include a Parisian cityscape in the background, the topical references to the city and its sites inform the reader’s experience of the poem and make it more relatable and memorable than the generic tone found in the men’s Danse. A similar insistence of the ‘here-and-now’ is also present in the way costumes are rendered in the woodcuts. Marchant updated the 1485 editions of the men’s 462 As transcribed in Harrison and Hindman 78. 463 For the most recent comparative analysis of the Lübeck and Reval paintings see Gertsman, The Dance of Death”, especially chapter four. For reproductions of the Hanseatic murals, see Gertsman, foldout 1 and 2. 464 Gertsman 119. 465 Ibid. 119. 171 Danse by changing the costumes and the shoes worn by the living protagonists to match the fashion of the 1480s. The same concern for the accuracy of the dress and the style is seen in des Femmes, where costumes are perhaps even more central in constructing the identity of female characters. For example, the only woodcut of des Femmes produced for the 1486 edition, featuring the Queen and the Duchess, depicts female costumes that adhere to the fashion of the mid 1480s (Fig. 54). The Queen wears a gown made of brocade and trimmed with ermine fur. Her sleeves are narrow – a style popular in the early to mid 1480s – and both the Queen and the Duchess wear round toe shoes as well as crowns and necklaces. By 1491, however, when the full set of illustrations was issued, the style of dresses was changing and wider sleeves were becoming more fashionable. W e see that change depicted in the woodcut showing the Regent and the Knight’s Lady in which both women wear sleeves widened at the wrist, the first step in the revival of the bombard sleeve (Fig. 49). 466 Their gowns are also molded to the body and provided with a new short V- neck. On their heads the ladies wear longer frontlets and the coifs (a close fitting hat) are more puffed up, as was the style at the time. Such close attention to the costumes of the noble women calls to mind the sumptuary laws passed in 1485 issued by King Charles VIII. 467 The concern over clothing as marker of social identity and especially the inappropriate usage of certain materials such as furs or silk by members of the lower nobility or even lower estates was a hot topic in France through the fifteenth century. As early as 1400, the poet Christine de Pizan repeatedly noted that “people were dressing above their estate: a farm laborer’s wife as the wife of a craftsman, a craftsman’s wife as the bourgeoise, a bourgeoise as a gentlewoman, a gentlewoman as a lady, a lady as a countess or duchess and a countess or duchesses as a queen.” 468 A similar complaint was 466 Van Buren 248. That the artist paid close attention to the details of the dress is also evident from the fact that the Knight’s Lady’s dress has a slit on the right hand side, an adaption that was meant to help her saddle the horse more easily. 467 For the most recent discussion of King Charles VIII’s edict from 1485 see Van Buren 4-5. The ordinance are also discussed by Sandra Hindman in “The Illustrations” 20-21. 468 Van Buren 4. Christine’s complains over the misuse of costume was included in her book Livre de trois vertus. 172 raised by councilors of King Charles VII (r. 1422-61) who asked that he regulate the dress of his subjects: … one cannot tell people’s estate or occupation, be they princes, noblemen, citizens, merchants or craftsmen, because everyone, man or woman, is allowed to dress as they please in cloth of gold or silver, silk or wool, regardless of their origin, estate or occupation. 469 The ordinance of 1485 was therefore meant to regulate fashion in France and bring forth a better sense social readability. The King prohibited most of his subjects to wear garments spun with silver, gold and silk, or with linings made out of silk. Aside from the princes, only the descendants of the ancient nobility were now allowed to wear silk. As van Buren explains, only knights (chevalier) who received an income of 2,000 livres a year could wear any kind of silk, while squires (escuier) with the same income could only wear damask or plain and patterned satin. 470 Neither category of knight could wear crimson or patterned velvet – material, which was reserved for the high nobility like the Queen and the Duchess in Marchant’s woodcut (Fig. 49). 471 Individuals who ignored the King’s sumptuary law (and there seems to have been many who did) risked having their ‘faulty’ garments confiscated and paying a hefty fine. 472 The careful rendering of costumes in the Danse books suggests an interest in adhering to the sartorial rules of the period and the need to rely on garments to further emphasize class and social positions of the different protagonists. Given the historical context of both the book and the poem, the portrayal of one aristocratic woman is particularly interesting to consider. In 1486 when the first edition of the book was published, King Charles VIII (b. 1470) was only sixteen and though he was officially the crowned King of France, the country was ruled by his 469 Quoted in van Buren 4. 470 Ibid. 5. 471 Ibid. 5. The Queen is the only figure in des Femmes that wears a brocade gown, while the Duchess is likely wearing a gown made of velvet. 472 Hindman, “The Illustratons” 21. Hindman explains that even though the sumptuary law “was largely ignored … class differences were understood partially in terms of dress.” 173 elder sister Anne of France (Anne de Beaujeu, d. 1522) and her husband Pierre de Beaujeu, the Duke of Bourbon (d. 1503). Anne assumed the title of the Regent of France in 1483 upon the death of her father, King Louis XI, and held the title until 1491 when Charles turned twenty-one. The period of Anne’s regency was particularly tumultuous and marked by conflicts among the French nobility vying for power over the young King, which eventually resulted in the princely revolt known as the Mad W ar (Guerre folle) that lasted from 1487 to 1488 and was aimed directly at the Beaujeus. 473 Referred to as “Madame la Grande”, Anne was a powerful figure and by all accounts the dominant partner in the Beaujeus regency of France. A mbassadors of the time were always received by Anne and they were typically instructed to woo her and not her husband in whatever affairs they were coming to discuss. 474 Contemporary chroniclers almost always focused on Anne, while Pierre de Beaujeu was regularly passed over. 475 A witness from the period described Pierre as “kind and easy-going, with nothing of the severity of his wife” while Anne was seen as the master who retained dominancy over Pierre because she was the king’s daughter. 476 Anne’s political power affronted many because it lacked a historical precedent. W omen such as Blanche of Castille (d. 1252) or Isabeau of Bavaria (d. 1435) who were also Queens and Regents were more accepted because they were wives of one king and mothers of another, but, as a sister of a king, Anne was in a position 473 Besides the princely conflict, the Beaujeus also faced problems with the Duchy of Brittany that aspired to seek independence from France, an issue that eventually resulted in the so-called Breton W ars from 1487-1491. The situation was eventually resolved when Charles married Anne of Brittany in December of 1491, a move that was largely orchestrated by the Beaujeus. A good summary of the years that marked the minority of King Charles can be found in R. J. Knecht’s The Rise and Fall of Renaissance France 1483-1610 (Oxford: Blackwell, 2001) especially chapter 2. For a discussion of women in power at this time, including Anne of France, see Pauline Matarasso, Queen’s Mate: Three Women of Power in France on the Eve of the Renaissance (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2001). 474 Matarasso 20. 475 Ibid 20. 476 Quoted in Matarasso 20. Not all accounts of Anne were as severe, though it seems that the general impression was that she and not Pierre was in control of the regency. 174 that traditionally she had no right to be and criticism spread widely. 477 For example, the conversations between the dukes of Brittany and Orléans were reported as commenting on the importance of “getting rid of the said lady and sending her back to her house in Gien to busy herself with her household duties [tenir et faire son mesnaige]”. 478 It is surprising therefore, in light of such controversy over Anne’s regency, that in des Femmes, the Regent is described as a woman concerned only with frivolous affairs. In the poem, Death explains that she is known for good conversations and for making people laugh (Qui avez renom de bien dire/ Vous soliez autres faire rire), while the Regent laments feasts, weddings and music she will miss when she dies. Although the sixteenth century dictionaries define the word regente as a woman who governs or rules and is thus active in political terms, as Anne of France had strongly asserted, the poem restricts her power and reduces the Regent to a mere hostess of a banquet or a feast. It is certainly possible to make an argument that des Femmes should not be seen as a literal portrayal of French society or its historical figures, but it is also true, as we know from the mural at the Cemetery of the Innocents that the Danse could be viewed as a clever political allegory. 479 Given the topicality of the des Femmes poem and the attention the artist paid to the accuracy of costumes and jewelry, there is no reason to assume that the women’s Danse was not seen in similar terms, especially since Anne’s political power was at the time a contested issue. The Aftermath of Death In contrast to the men’s Danse, however, from its very first publication des Femmes included two additional illustrated poems, Le Debat dun corps et dune ame 477 Ibid 20. This was all the more pronounced because according to Salic Law that was passed in France women were excluded from inheriting the throne and they were not present at the Council chamber meetings, except of course in the case of a queen regent. 478 Quoted in Matarasso 20. 479 See Oosterwijk, “Of Constables and Kings” and Dujakovic, “The Dance of Death, the Dance of Life.” 175 and La complainte de lame dampnee, which emphasized direct consequences of sinful behavior (henceforth the Debat and the Complainte). In the second chapter, I pointed out that neither the verses in the dialogue section of the poem nor the images of the Danse include specific reference to God, the Last Judgment or salvation. Perhaps even more troubling for a Christian audience is the fact that the Danse did not contain allusions to religious rituals that signified good death according to models established in the Ars moriendi tracts and other religious texts of the period. In the Danse, there is no depiction of a deathbed, no representation of priests administering the Last Rites and no portrayal of a proper Christian burial. Actually, the Danse does not even show death and dying per se, it only hints at it through the allegory of the death’s dance. In compiling des Femmes, Marchant must have been aware of such shortcomings of the Danse – after all he published an edition of the Ars moriendi in 1483 and published the title at least one more time during the course of his career – and perhaps sought to correct the Danse by adding the Debate and the Complainte, two works that discuss the fate of the soul in the aftermath of death. Derived from the text known as Visio Philiberti, a work that from the thirteenth century onward helped to shape and popularize the body/soul debates in W estern Europe, the Debat concerns the period of time immediately following physical death and it is structured as a dialogue between the Body and the Soul. 480 Much like the Danse, the Debate also includes verses of the Author (Lacteur), though the actual figure is not portrayed in the woodcuts that accompany the poem. The work is illustrated with nine woodcuts. However a number of them are repeated several times throughout the poem. 481 The opening woodcut, the largest one in the Debat, features an elaborate canopied bed with a dying person in it (Fig. 50). Further in the background a nude child-like Soul is shown debating with a shrouded Body rising from a coffin. Oosterwijik has noted that the Soul’s position, standing on a ledge and 480 For a discussion of the poem see Neil Cartlidge, “In the Silence of a Midwinter Night: A Re-evaluation of the Visio Philiberti”, Medium Aevum, lxxv (2006):24-45. 481 There are three versions of woodcuts depicting the Body/Soul dialogue in which the Body is in the coffin and the scenes takes place outdoors, that are repeated in the middle section of the work. 176 hovering over the risen corpse signifies its upper hand in the dispute. 482 The composition of the image, and especially the canopied bed with a sleeper/dying person in it, recalls illustrations of medieval allegorical poems such as the Roman de la Rose and the Dance aux aveluges, both of which start with a similar image of a vision, while at the same time the bed alludes to the act of dying and thus to the Last Rites’ rituals that are missing from the portrayal of the Danse. For our present discussion, however, the last image in the Debat is especially interesting (Fig. 51). The woodcut portrays the Body, now almost fully shrouded, as was the custom of the period, prostrated in the coffin. Above the Body, three winged devils battle over the Soul – a fearful reminder of the final outcome of sinful living, damnation. Seated at the far right, in front of the coffin, is the figure of the hermit, perhaps Philibert himself. It is important to emphasize that the hermit does not participate in the drama unfolding in the image he merely observes the scene while holding an open book in his hands. As discussed in the first chapter, the hermit also appears in Marchant’s portrayal of the Three Living and the Three Dead where he is shown looking but not partaking in the encounter between the living and the dead (Figs. 24 and 25). As stated in the second chapter, according to Kinch, the hermit in the Three Living provides the viewer with a model of moral behavior, a notion that, I would argue, can also be extended to his role in the Debat. 483 In the poem, the hermit becomes the projection of the reader/viewer (also seated in front of an open book), who is meant to observe and learn from the scene and the text before him. The last poem in the book, the Complainte, is also the shortest, comprised of only two folios illustrated with a single woodcut (Fig. 52). The text is derived from the Ars moriendi tract and addresses sinners directly (Vous pecheurs qui fort regardez). Depicting different forms of torture, boiling in cauldrons, hanging from the gallows or being pricked and bitten by devils, the Complainte is a logical continuation of the Debat and explores the pains of Hell that await the sinners. W hat is especially striking about the image is its highly composite nature. Lacking an identifiable narrative focus, the illustration is an amalgamation of multiple woodcuts (or parts of 482 Sophie Oosterwijk, “Dance, Dialogue and Duality” 22. 483 Kinch, Imago Mortis 158. 177 woodcuts) that Marchant and other printers commonly featured in their illustrated books at the time. For example, a version of the elaborate Mouth of Hell, portrayed on the right, is also found in Marchant’s woodcut with Death on the Horse that he included in editions of the Kalendrier and later even in des Femmes (Fig. 38). The boiling cauldron on the left, packed with sinners, recalls Pierre Le Rouge’s famous woodcut renditions of the pains of Hell that accompanied Vérard’s editions of the Ars Moriendi and which Marchant had also borrowed for his work on the Kalendrier (Figs. 36 and 37). 484 W hile des Femmes is particularly topical, situated specifically in the urban context of the late fifteenth century Pairs, the Complainte woodcut is exactly the opposite. It is placed in an unspecified moment at the end of time and none of the figures actually retain any markers of their previous social or professional status. Rather, the woodcut depicts the inevitable and never ending threat of damnation – a striking warning placed at the end of the book intended as a didactic tool. Considering the Salutary Mirror as a whole, Marchant’s editorial strategy becomes obvious: the des Femmes portrays sins committed in the present (which the reader can still correct), the Debat offers a sense of what happens to the body and the soul after physical death, while the Complainte depicts the ultimate result of sinful and foolish living. Thus far I argued that the des Femmes is a direct product of Marchant’s compiling strategy and that it reveals references to sources, both textual and pictorial, that see women as cause of sin and death. W hile it is comparable to the men’s Danse in terms of layout and composition, its principal theme is considerably different. This is not merely a case of the printer/publisher playing on variations, though there is an element of that as well in Marchant’s decision to publish the female version of the Danse, but an example in which careful editorial strategy 484 The grouping of the three hanged sinners in the middle ground is also reminiscent of the image Marchant used to illustrate his edition of François Villon’s Testament. It is important to highlight that versions of many if not all of these scenes also frequently appeared in other publications by Marchant’s and his colleagues. It is not my intention to pinpoint the exact source for each element that makes up the woodcut, but rather to emphasize the process of cutting and pasting from multiple sources that Marchant employs here and that, I want to argue, reflects his overall editorial approach. 178 informs our experience of the work. Marchant’s colophons at the beginni ng and the end of the books, directly link des Femmes with other poems in the compilation and suggest to the reader a precise way in which the book should be used. At the same time, the portrayal of women and especially the satirical nature of the verses evoke a contemporary Parisian context and situate the book in a specific time and place, a concept that is markedly different from the men’s Danse. W hile the new addition of the Dance of Death of W omen in the printed books provided a whole new roster of the female gender to consider in parallel with men, the addition of the Fool added an altogether different status of being, one that ironically had a lot in common with the figures of Death. Fooling with Death At what point, we might ask, did the Fool begin to dance in the Danse? W hat role did the Fool serve in the composition that already relied on humor and satire even before the jester was added to the roster of figures? In asking these questions, it is important to emphasize that although the figure appeared in earlier German examples, prior to Marchant’s inclusion of the Fool (Le Sot) in the 1486 augmented printed edition of the men’s Danse, it was not featured in any other known French renditions of the theme. It was not depicted in the Danse mural from the Cemetery of the Innocents (or any other French mural that predate the printed books) nor was it included in the two Books of Hours that featured the Dance of Death cycles in margins of the Office of the Dead (BN, ms. Rothschild 2535 and New York, Morgan Library, ms. M. 359). 485 The insertion of the Fool and the Female Fool into the Danse was, at least in France, the invention of the print medium (Figs. 35 and 42). The allegorical figures of the Fool and Death share much in common and it is not surprising that le mort addresses the Fool as “Mon amy sot” in Marchant’s 1486 edition of the men’s Danse (Fig. 35). 486 In the Danse, the dead continually mock or 485 See chapter 1 for a discussion of the Danse in these two manuscripts. 486 On this issue see especially Sophie Oosterwijk, “Alas Poor Yorick” 179 ridicule members of all social classes and pay no respect to status or importance of any living figures in the procession. Traditionally, the Fool is also no respecter of rank or status and tends to treat everyone alike in his satirical speeches. 487 Like Death, who stands for Everyman, the Fool’s position is not easy to define because he occupies an elusive place between masters, courtiers and servants. 488 This is especially significant in the context of the Danse, which is structured around a careful demarcation of social status, yet the Fool is in a specific position of an outsider, a figure with an indeterminate class and status. In addition, both Death and the Fool are figures that invite a form of self-reflection. The dead in the Danse stand as visual reminders of what the living will become in the future moment that is approaching and the entire composition, as the Author implies in the prologue, is envisioned as an instructive mirror aimed at the viewer/reader (En ce miroer chascun peut lire/ Qui le convient ainsi danser). Similarly, the Fool often holds a marotte, a staff carved on the top with a miniature image of fool’s face that functions as the Fool’s alter ego (or mirror image) and which he uses during mock- conversations or satirical commentary, which itself mirrors the dialogic set up of the Danse. It is perhaps such inherent similarity between the Fool and Death that had prevented the former from being included in the early depictions of the Danse, though curiously the Fool (Stultus) does appear in the Latin Vado Mori poem, which is often regarded as the precursor of the Dance of Death theme. In that poem, preceded by the Sapiens (the W ise Man), the Stultus proclaims: “Vado mori stultus. Mors stulto vel sapienti / non jungit pacis foedera: vado mori (I, the fool, am going to die. Death signs a peace deal with neither fool nor wise man: I am going to die). 489 Marchant was certainly familiar with the Vado mori, because he included the transcribed verses of the poem above the woodcuts in his editions of the men’s 487 Ibid. 20. As Oosterwijk points out, in medieval and renaissance culture the Fool could be defined in any number of ways. For one, there was a difference between the ‘natural’ and the ‘artificial’ Fool, the former being a mere dimwit or a simpleton. The Fool could also be a prankster of sorts and his performance would in that sense be defined as a farce or he could be the wise jester whose shrewd and often biting commentary was meant to address (and correct) the foolish acts of his superiors. 488 Ibid. 21. 489 Quoted and translated in Oosterwijk, “Alas Poor Yorick” 21. 180 Danse, a practice that was also adopted by many other French printers who published the work. Although the Vado mori is not structured around a dialogue between the living and the dead, but on a series of proclamations made by the dying, the inclusion of the verses in the printed editions nevertheless further heightens the performative aspects of the books. The first Dance of Death that included the figure of the Fool was painted in Basel in the churchyard of the Dominican convent around 1440. 490 Nowadays known only through fragments, the Grossbasler Totendanz was allegedly painted to commemorate the outbreak of the plague that hit Basel in 1439 and it included thirty- nine living protagonists with the Narr (or jester) being the thirtieth figure. That the Fool appears first in Basel should not surprise us. The city had a long tradition of the Fastnachtspiele (carnival plays) and it was also the place where Sebastian Brant was to publish the first edition of his famous treatise the Narrenschiff (Ship of Fools) in 1494. The Fool was also included in the Kleinbassler Totendanz produced in the second half of the fifteenth century and it appears in the Berlin Dance of Death painted in the bell tower of the Mariankirche church c. 1490. Whether Marchant was familiar with the Grossbasler example is unknown, but even before he published the books there was a growing interest in exploring the themes of death and folly in French manuscripts of the period. For our discussion, a miniature from the Mors de la Pomme, is especially interesting (Fig. 53). In this image, Death is seen attacking the docteur (a Theologian or a scholar figure) who is seated at his desk in the position that mimics that of the Author in the Danse. Pierced by Death’s arrow, the docteur is dying amidst the open books, while the figure of the Fool, dressed in the traditional costume and holding a marotte, stands near the desk and looks over his shoulder with a sly smile. In the image, the Fool is neither a participant in the scene, nor Death’s next victim. Rather, he is an observer and a commentator and his verse is directed at the reader/viewer Qui bien scet morir 490 This mural is typically referred to in literature as the Grossbasler Totendanz to distinguish it from the second mural of the theme that was painted later in the Dominican nunnery in Klingenthal known as the Kleinbasler Totendanz. 181 Il est sage (It is a wise man who knows how to die well), the main recipient of the moral lesson portrayed in the miniature. 491 The Fool and Death are also the main protagonists in the poem Complainte contre la Mort, written by King René of Anjou’s court jester Triboulet, which was illustrated in a manuscript copy of c. 1480 (The Hague, Royal Library, Ms. 71 G. 61). 492 In the poem, Triboulet accuses Death of attacking him without cause, a complaint that is illustrated in five striking miniatures in which the jester is shown at the court of King René in a coffin, encountering Death in a scene set outdoors and even lying dead in a grave at the cemetery with charnel houses packed with bones – a setting reminiscent of the Cemetery of the Innocents – surrounded by well-dressed ladies shown gasping in horror. While manuscripts such as the Mors and the Complainte contre la Mort are evidence of the emerging interest in exploring the theme of Death and the Fool in visual arts at the turn of the century in France, the figure of the jester was becoming increasingly more prominent in the realm of theatre and performance as well. In particular the development of the sottie – a comical play performed by actors dressed like jesters – which flourished at the end of the fifteenth century is important to consider. As Heather Arden explains, one third of the 61 plays that belong to the genre of the sottie have been written between 1480 and 1500, the same time period in which the Danse macabre books were also most frequently published. 493 A typical 491 Oosterwijk, “Alas poor Yorick”, 22. 492 Ibid 22. For the miniatures from the manuscript, see http://manuscripts.kb.nl/iconclass/31F On René’s manuscript see Anne S. Korteweg, Splendour, Gravity & Emotion: French Medieval Manuscripts in Dutch Collection, trans. Beverly Jackson (Zwolle: W aanders, 2004), especially pages 158-159. The name Triboulet was frequently given to jesters in France and comes from the verb “to torment”. A succession of court fools named Triboulet were accompanying French Kings in the late medieval and early modern periods, from Louis XI to Louis XII and François I. The name also appears in Rabelais who has Panurge consult the Triboulet of François I on the issue of marriage. On these issues see: Heather Ardern, Fool’s Play: A Study of Satire in the Sottie (Cambridge: Cambridge UP: 1980). 493 Arden 14. According to Arden, the second half of the fifteenth century was the heyday of the sottie. 43 of 61 plays were written between 1460 and 1540, only four date before 1460 and six are believed to have been produced after 1540. http://manuscripts.kb.nl/iconclass/31F 182 sottie is a short comic play in verse, generally less than 400 lines long, which includes five characters that represent specific social types. Sometimes the characters are given names denoting particular titles (the General, the Abbot, the Prince or the Doctor) or they are named after a specific personal quality of the character (for example, Nyvelet from the verb niveler, ‘to waste one’s time with foolishness’). 494 Like the Danse, the sottie present women as if they constitute a class apart from the principal estates and satirize them by evoking the same complaints about women that are also present in des Femmes: they are described as chatty, as far too changeable and as willing to spend too much of their husband’s money. 495 Such similarities between the sottie and the printed editions of the Danse suggest a possible crossover between the illustrated books and late medieval theater that is worth investigating further. After all, as discussed in the second chapter, the Danse was likely performed at least twice in the fifteenth century and the composition of the work carries within specific performative elements. As Gertsman has argued in relation to the Danse murals, gestures play a crucial role in medieval theatre and dance and they are also incorporated into the composition of the Danse and help to emphasize social roles and the antagonism between the living and the dead. 496 Furthermore, the placement of the Author at the beginning and at the end of the Danse is similar to the role of the Expositor, a type of choric figure, who regularly appeared in late-medieval plays (Figs. 18 and 19). 497 Remaining present on the stage during the course of the play, the Expositor, much like the Author, served as an intermediary between the audience and the actors and helped guide the viewers’ response by occasionally commenting on the play and delivering the prologue and the epilogue. 498 Marchant had clearly understood the theatrical aspect of the Danse because he imbued the illustrated editions with yet 494 Ibid. 38. 495 Ibid. 81. 496 Gertsman,The Dance of Death 84. 497 Ibid. 84. 498 Ibid. 84. 183 another performative element: the dissonant tune played by the Four Dead Musicians (Fig. 9). While the similarities between the painted versions of the Danse and medieval theatre have been explored in literature, most recently by Gertsman, the relationship between illustrated editions of the theme and early printed plays have not, at least to my knowledge, been discussed in detail. In the late fifteenth century, well established forms of medieval theatre – biblical stories enacted on platforms, mummeries, songs of court poets and costumed civic festivals – were actually being confronted (and eventually replaced) by the fixed medium of the printed play text. 499 As Julie Stone Peters has shown, the printing press had a pivotal role in the rise of the modern theatre because it allowed for a circulation of dramatic texts and renewed interest in classical playwrights, especially Terence, Plautus and Seneca. 500 In France, the comedies of Terence were particularly popular and frequently printed often times by the same printers or publishers who produced the Danse editions, including Husz (1491), Vérard (c.1499), de Marnef (1493 and 1519) and Petit (1496, 1499,1519 and 1529). 501 Terence’s comedies explore social roles and are structured in such a way as to invite responses from the audience through prologues and speeches directed at them, another way they are similar to the Danse. The fifteenth century French editions of Terence are also often illustrated with woodcuts that feature depictions of actors on stage gesturing and enacting the play, thus adding a performative element to the book itself. Although Johann Trechsel’s edition of Terence published in Lyons in 1493 is perhaps the best known of the French examples, Vérard’s version from 1499 is interesting because of the innovative technique he used: interchangeable blocks. Invented by a publisher from Strasbourg, Jean Gruninger, for his own edition of Terence published in 1496 and then borrowed by Vérard, this technique involves 499 Julie Stone Peters, The Theatre of the Book, 1480-1880: Print, Text and Performance in Europe (Oxford: Oxford UP, 2000) 1. 500 Ibid 1. 501 For a discussion of Terence’s comedies in France, see: H.W . Lawton, Contribution à l’histoire de l’humanisme en France: Térence en France au XVIe siècle (Paris: Jouve, 1926). 184 permuting a series of woodblocks in order to obtain illustrations for every conceivable scene. 502 Gruninger’s series of blocks included some thirty-one characters, both male and female, of different age and social occupation depicted with a variety of gestures and facial expressions. 503 Included in the series were five architectural settings (two different castles, a city, a tower and a gateway), a set of four varied looking trees and some miscellaneous vegetation such as shrubs and foliage. 504 From this collection of figures, settings and flora, the printer could then create any number of scenes by simply compiling the elements in whatever way he wanted. To make scenes compiled from interchangeable blocks appear close to the text, Vérard included banderoles above the figures on which he supplied identification, if needed. Illustrations created with interchangeable woodblocks are more extreme versions of the composite images like the one Marchant used for the Complainte – which he compiled by using scenes borrowed from multiple sources – but they also further emphasize the crucial role of the printer/publisher in manipulating the book. By assembling texts from different sources and placing the work in a specific framework, the printer enforces a particular kind of narrative for the book he prints, the editing strategy we saw Marchant employ in des Femmes. At the same time, the usage of interchangeable woodblocks allows for an even greater control not only of text, but of images as well, which can now be manipulated in whichever way the printer see fits. In theory at least, the interchangeable woodblocks also diminish the need for the artist (the engraver or the woodcutter) who, once the set of permuting woodblocks is created, is no longer needed to design individual illustrations – an appealing prospect for the printers, no doubt, since it meant lowering the price of running an edition while at the same time ensuring a greater control over the look of the final product. 502 Taylor,“A Priest of Poetry to the People” 239. 503 Ibid. 239. The interchangeable blocks must have been quite useful to Vérard because he used them again for his edition of the Jardin de Plaisance (BN, Rés. Ye. 168). The woodcuts from this edition are reproduced in Taylor, “A Priest of Poetry to the People” figures 19, 20, 21 and 23. 504 Ibid. 239. 185 The emergence of the sottie as a theatrical genre in this period together with the renewed interest in classical comedies frequently published by French printers suggest that the public at this time was increasingly interested in representation and exploration of different social types. An avid interest in the portrayal of society must be one of the reasons for the popularity of the Danse books in this period especially since the books, in contrast to the painted versions of the theme, are characterized by a proliferation of figures. W e will recall that forty-six new characters were added to the series by Marchant alone, an impressive number that at least in part reflects the burgeoning public sphere at the turn of the century in France. In her discussion of the sottie, Arden has pondered the purpose of satirical texts and performances in this period particularly their social and political implication. 505 W ho exactly was doing the satirizing and why? According to Arden, the sottie, though it revealed forms of discontent that affected the lower classes, was essentially a conservative force that sought to laugh away and therefore lessen the impact of any kind of change or nouveauté, whether it was social, political, religious or even sartorial. 506 As she states: “this theater was not fundamentally progressive (in the sense of advocating new forms of social organisation). The sots judge the abuses of the present from a retrospective vantage point: things are not what they should be, the fools believe; but long ago they were as they should have been.” 507 Since there is much similarity in the type of humor and the choice of characters used in both the sottie and the Danse, I wonder if the latter can also be understood along the same lines: as a moralizing illustrated text that halts rather than embraces any fundamental social change. This may be a particularly apt definition for des Femmes, which while portraying an array of female characters and thus giving women visibility in a seemingly new way, also reinforces deeply seated religious and moralistic attitudes towards women that place them in a position of inferiority and describe them as chatty, frivolous or morally corruptive. After all, des Femmes was published at the time when women such as Anne of France and later 505 Arden 74. 506 Ibid. 74. 507 Ibid. 74-5. 186 Queen Anne of Brittany, were actually becoming politically active and involved in the affairs of the state in a way not previously seen, a development that was not met warmly by their male counterparts, as I discussed earlier. Though some women in the book are portrayed as exceptionally pious and devout and women do seem more willing to embrace death than men, the des Femmes book does not offer a particularly positive portrayal of women in general. 508 Marchant’s decision to include La Sotte (the Female-Fool) as the last figure in the dance is particularly illuminating in this regard (Fig. 42). Although Death addresses her directly (Sus tost margot venez avant), the Sotte – wearing a traditional fool’s costume and holding a marotte – offers a reply that is aimed not at her dead companion but at the women who danced before her. 509 Referring to them as the “pretty, trim ladies” (Entre vous conctes y iolies), the Sotte demands that the women listen to what she has to say and let go of their foolish ways ( Femmes oyez que ie vous dis/ Laissez a heure voz folies). That the Sotte is depicted speaking to women rather than conversing with the dead, is quite unusual in the context of the Danse. Typically, it is only the Author, who delivers the prologue and the epilogue and thus addresses both the protagonists of the Danse as well as the viewer. The Sotte reminds women that they will certainly die (Car vous mourrez sans contredis) and also turns her marotte – the staff with a face on the top that normally signifies the Fool’s mirror-image or an alter ego – towards the women that precede her in the Danse, suggesting perhaps that they are all Female-Fools. 510 Alternatively, the 508 I would therefore disagree with Harrison who argues that “the des Femmes is objective in its presentation of women, and it is certainly not misogynistic. The faults attributed to participants in this danse macabre arise from their situation in life and its temptations, not from a nature basically flawed from beginning” (11). W hile the interest in the portrayal of women from different classes is new and reveals an interest in giving women greater social visibility, the poem and the images in des Femmes are rooted in views about women that are neither objective nor complimentary. 509 Margot is a traditional stage name used by the sotte in the medieval morality plays and the sottie, hence another link between des Femmes and late medieval theatre. The word also denotes a magpie, a bird that chatters constantly – a characteristic given to the Female-Fools, but also women in general. 510 In contrast, the Fool in the man’s Danse, which is also shown with a marotte, points the staff towards him and is depicted gazing at it with a comical expression. 187 position of the Sotte’s marotte may also be understood as reinforcing Marchant’s main thesis in the Miroer salutaire, betterment through self-reflection, for both the protagonists and the book’s reader. One last illustrated text that references women, fools and death is important to consider as it shares much in common with des Femmes and points to the kind of literature about women that was commonly taken up by printers of illustrated books. In France, the interest in the Fool as the new allegorical figure is evidenced by the popularity of Sebastian Brant’s famous treatise, Das Narrenschiff (The Ship of Fools), which was translated into French very soon after it was first published in Basel in 1494. Translated by Jehan Drouyn, the French version of Das Narrennschiff (La grande nef des Folz du Monde) was first published in Lyons in 1498 and widely disseminated; at least twelve editions were issued in the course of the sixteenth century. 511 That same year, 1498, the Flemish humanist and a noted imprimeur- librairie, Jodicus Badius Ascensius (Josse Bade van Asche), working in Lyons and Paris, decided to write a supplement (additametum) in Latin to Brant’s Narrenschiff titled Stultifere naves (The Ship of Female-Fools). Bade’s supplement was essentially another example of the printer-publisher inserting his agency by modifying or expanding the original text. It was published in Paris in 1500 by his friend and colleague Angelbert de Marnef. 512 Interestingly, prior to publishing Bade’s original text, Marnef wanted to test the appeal of the work for a larger public by commissioning a French vernacular adaptation. He approached Drouyn, who had ample experience with Brant’s treatise, to translate Bade’s supplement and published it as La Grant nef des folles (henceforth Nef des folles). As Yona Pinson has shown, the French translation of Bade’s text should be treated as an autonomous work since it deviates considerably from the original 511 Pinson 69. The first edition of Drouyn’s translation must have sold out quickly. The second edition was published a year later, in 1499. 512 Pinson 69. The edition was printed by Thielmann Kerver for Angelbert and Geoffrey de Marnef on February 18, 1500 (Paris, Arsenal, Rés.-8-BL-5805). The book was illustrated with six woodcuts and printed in quarto format. 188 source. 513 Drouyn expanded Bade’s more refined text by adding thirteen additional chapters, including one entitled La nef de la mort (The Ship of Death), all of which are illustrated with complementary woodcuts. 514 The book was apparently aimed primarily at a female readership (“affin que les femmes le lisent à leur aise”) and like des Femmes it is overtly didactic and, at times, misogynistic. La Nef des folles is another important example of the predilection of French printers towards publishing companion-pieces of popular illustrated texts and it is likely that the Danse and this book shared the same audience. After all, a number of printers and publishers who produced editions of the Danse were also involved in issuing copies of Drouyn’s vernacular adaptation. W e will recall that de Marnef brothers commissioned Marchant to print the Latin edition of the Danse in October of 1490 and they also hired him to print a Flemish translation of the Narrenschiff in 1500. Parisian printers Le Petits Laurens (commissioned by Geoffroy de Marnef) and Jean Trepperel, who published editions of the Danse also printed La Nef des folles in 1498 and 1501 respectively. Both Bede’s supplement and Drouyn’s adaptation stem from the same religious and didactic literature that describes women as the source of evil. Bede’s text includes the woodcut portraying the Ship of Eve (also reproduced in Drouyn’s edition), which leads all other ships filled with fools on their way to the land of Venus. 515 Two horned grotesque looking fool-devils row the ship, while the banner fluttering above the ship’s prow displays the image of a basilik-like dragon, a symbol of the devil (Fig. 54). 516 Standing at the center of the ship, to the right of the Tree of Knowledge, Eve is visually isolated from the other figures in the vessel, perhaps in order to emphasize her active role in the trespass at the Garden of Eden. 517 W hile Eve is about to touch the fruit handed over by the serpent coiled around the Tree, 513 Ibid 70. A full list of illustrations can be found in Pinson’s study. For a recent critical edition of the Nef des folles see Olga Anna Duhl, La Nef de folles, adaptation de Jean Drouyn (Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2013). 514 Ibid 70. The six ‘original’ cut that accompanied Bade’s Latin supplement are also included in Drouyn’s adaptation. 515 Ibid. 78. 516 Ibid. 84. 517 Ibid. 82. 189 her accomplice, Adam, is shown embarking on the ship and raising both hands in the air – a gesture that denotes his passivity and innocence. In the Ship of Smell, women dressed as Fools pick flowers and offer bouquets to their foolish suitors, while in the Ship of Touch several couples are shown embracing. Although all figures aboard the ship are dressed as fools, the woodcut depicts women, not their male counterparts, as inherently more errant. The main Female-Fool in the center of the ship, embraces her young lover, while still holding the hand of the older one. The couple on the left recalls secular and profane prints that emphasize female seductive and avaricious nature: while the male fool fondles the woman’s breast, she is shown reaching for his purse. Sailing under the banner decorated with a peacock, a symbol of pride, the personification of Sight in the Ship of Sight is an elegantly dressed courtesan holding a comb and a mirror. A long line of Female-Fools await to embark on the ship, while Sight turns her mirror towards the viewer – the ultimate recipient of the moral lesson portrayed in the image. 518 Much like Marchant’s Miroir salutaire, the mirror in the Ship of Sight functions as an edifying tool for the betterment of the reader. Actually, according to Pinson, like Marchant, Drouyn described his edition as a speculum, but for him La Nef des Folles functioned as “an inverted mirror” reflecting exactly that which the reader/viewer should avoid. 519 Given such interest in the themes of death and folly at the end of the fifteenth century, it is not surprising that Marchant decided to expand the Danse by adding the figure of the jester in both the male and female editions of the book. In so doing, he extended the scope of the Danse and made the theme more relevant and appealing to its turn of the century audience. Readers interested in moralizing and didactic treatises would certainly find the Danse appealing, but so could the audience more fascinated with the folly of human nature and the satirical portrayal of various social types. The implication of Marchant’s expansion of the Danse is especially evident when we compare the different endings of the 1485 and 1486 editions of the men’s Dance of Death. The final woodcut of the 1485 edition depicts the pairing of the Cleric and the Hermit, who is the last ‘living’ figure in the Danse 518 Ibid. 79. 519 Ibid 80. 190 (Fig. 55). Curiously placed between two cadavers, the Hermit, a model of penance for the viewer, holds an open book and a rosary and looks directly at the viewer. On the other hand, in the 1486 edition it is the Fool who becomes the last figure in the dancing procession (Fig. 35). As mentioned earlier, the Fool is the only figure in the Danse that actually dances along with the dead. Lifting his right leg, the Fool turns his entire body towards the cadaver and gazes at it with a smile. That his body is in movement is also implied by the fabric on the Fool’s sleeve that billows wildly in the air. Death, in turn, does not acknowledge the Fool, but looks out at us, the viewers, with a coy smile as if suggesting that we are the next ones to go. The dialogue between the Fool and Death is also a bit unusual since it is not constructed as a typical dialogue per se. Le mort addresses the Fool with a sense of familiarity (“Mon amy sot”) and then goes on to comment in general terms on how every man must participate in the dance (“Tout homme danser y convient”) and that everyone progresses towards the final end (“Chascune chose a la fin tend). The Fool, in turn, does not resist Death, but seems to pay homage to le mort by suggesting that it has the power to bring together great enemies and neutralize class and social distinction. The examples derived from scribal culture, popular poetry, and illustrated books discussed in this chapter suggest that the macabre discourse was changing at the end of the fifteenth century. Allegorical poems such as the Mors and La dance aux aveugles, which were at least partially derived from the Danse, offered new ways of representing the figure of Death and expanded the framework of macabre art and verses by linking them more closely to biblical texts. At the same time, popular contemporary poets such as François Villon or Olivier de la Marche imbued their verses with macabre sentiment and extended the interest in the theme beyond religious and didactic literature. The turn of the century in France was also marked by profound changes in the social sphere and especially the growing prominence of women in public and political realms, a development that was both a source of fascination and anxiety. W orks written by women as well as treatises for or about women were growing in popularity and printers were increasingly more interested in publishing editions focused solely on female protagonists, from Marchant’s des Femmes and the Shepherdesses’ Calendar to Dryon’s Ship of Female-Fools. In 191 addition, the fascination with representation of class and the changing social sphere was also of interest to the late medieval theatre, especially the sottie genre, which shared much in common in terms of language and humor with the theme of the Danse. The question of why at the end of the fifteenth century the Danse became such a popular subject matter in French illustrated books may therefore be found in the combination of discourses I just laid out. W ith their ever expanding roster of figures and social types, the Danse macabre books engaged the public interest in exploring class representations and ridiculing or undermining certain segments of society, while also responding to the need of the more devout audiences, which sought edifying texts and images in their quest for salvation. Importantly, the chapter also highlights the crucial role of the printer in editing and constructing a particular narrative for each edition of the work – a point that will be elaborated further in the subsequent section by discussing specific editions in more detail. In particular, I argued that the choice of content included in the Danse books was not a happenstance, a mere compilation of texts and images with similar subject matter, but rather a deliberate and conscious effort on the part of the printer to put together a book that would appeal to a wider and ever shifting audience. In so doing, printers like Marchant, Husz and others, expanded the Danse by including new figures – women, workers in the printing industry and the Fools – and added a selection of carefully curated texts and images that further extended the implications of the Danse. In their pursuit of new readers, the printers continually experimented with the theme and modernized the Danse by paying attention to contemporary costumes, social customs and trends in art and literature. Marchant’s publication of the des Femmes relied on the verses of the poem that already circulated in the scribal and literary culture of the early 1480s, but introduced visual elements in the woodcuts that relate more closely to the realm of popular prints especially those that depicted profane representations of women. Such interventions with the theme of the Danse on the part of the early printers demonstrate their entrepreneurial skills and their familiarity with visual and literary inclinations of the period while also suggesting that the theme circulated in much broader contexts at the turn of the century than it is typically assumed. 192 CHAPTER FIVE The Salutary Mirror: Editing and Viewing the Illustrated Book Death and the Viewer Although they storm into the Printing W orkshop and the Bookstore and snatch the living figures from their places of work, the three cadavers in Mathias Husz’s woodcut, depicted on folio b 1 of his edition of the Danse macabre, gaze neither at the Printers nor at the Bookseller (Fig. 10). Rather, they stare at us, the viewers, with a sinister smile while making pointing gestures for our benefit. Husz’s unusual rendition of the Danse – the woodcut positions its protagonists in specific interior locations and portrays them as working rather than dancing – nevertheless highlights the central premise of much of macabre art, namely the intricate relationship between the viewer and the image. Despite its many variations, the Danse had always functioned as a visual lesson intended for the benefit of the viewer. In the verses that accompany the first known visual rendition of the theme painted on the walls of the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents in Paris, the Author (L’Acteur) describes the image as a mirror from which all can read (“En ce miroer chascun peut lire”), thus implying that the Danse should be regarded as a didactic and visual lecture for the audience (Fig. 18). As we have seen, a similar sentiment was expressed half a century later, in 1486, when the printer Guy Marchant published the first edition of the Danse macabre des femmes under the general title Le miroer salutaire (Salutary Mirror). As Marchant explained in the colophon that accompanied this edition, the book was to be used by its readers as a self-help guide and a universal tool that would aid in the quest for salvation. 520 Moreover, the Latin phrase “Eram quod es, eris quod sum” (I was what 520 The colophon to the 1486 editions of the Danse macabre des femmes reads: Ce present livre est appelle Miroer salutaire pour toutes gens et des tous estats, et est 193 you are, you will be what I am) was frequently evoked in macabre imagery, including versions of the Danse. Addressing the living figures (and by extension, the viewer) at the beginning of the Danse, the First Dead Musician in Marchant’s 1486 augmented edition, proclaims: “Helas: regardez nous/ Mors, pourris, puans, descouvers/ Comme sommes: telx seres vous” (Alas! Look at us: dead, rotten, stinking and naked. As we are so you will be) (Fig. 9). Although there has been much debate as to the status of the dead in the Danse – do they represent Death personified or the dead in general? Are they mirror images of the living in the Danse or merely their dead companions? – the dancing corpses in the image are ultimately reminders to the viewers of their impending physical demise. In Husz’s woodcut the relationship between Death and the viewer is made even more prominent because of the composition and the placement of the image in the book. As discussed in previous chapters, the scene with the Printers and the Bookseller is preceded by eight woodcuts in which the dancing partners are all situated in a simple outdoor location (Figs. 14 and 15). By the time the viewer reaches folio b 1 , the model for the Danse has already been established through the replicating composition of the preceding images. The woodcut is then followed by nine other scenes that revert back to the conventional framework – the figures dance outdoors in a procession facing the viewer. Embedded in the middle of the Danse, the woodcut with the Printers and the Bookseller functions as an interlude in the dance because its composition and arrangement of figures diverges so significantly from the expected model (Fig. 10). Yet, and this is worth emphasizing, it is left up to the viewer to ‘discover’ the image by leafing through the book because nothing in the title or the colophon hints at its existence or placement in the work. The effects of Husz’s clever insertion of such an unexpected image are multiple. Since the Printers and the Bookseller are placed in different settings from the rest of the figures in the Danse, their professions are emphasized over all others. While other social types are represented though a single figure (the King, the de grant utilite et recreacion pour pleuseurs ensengnemens tant en latin comme en françoys les quelx il contient. Ainsi compose pour ceulx qui desirent acquerir leur salut, et qui le voudront avoir. 194 Merchant, the Schoolmaster), the printing profession is portrayed by three different individuals all of whom are responsible for specific parts of the printing process (the Compositor, the Inker and the Pressman, even the Bookseller). In 1499, when the book was published, the printing technology was still a novelty and part of Husz’s intervention with this woodcut must have been initiated by his desire to introduce the audience to aspects of the printing process they may not have been familiar with. Although neither the Printers nor the Bookseller will actually survive the deadly attack – as W illiam Engel points out, they are mockingly “subjected to the very process [they] strive to allegorize, namely death” – the products of their work will nevertheless continue to circulate and exist in multiple copies long after they are gone. 521 The books piled on the counter and arranged on the shelves behind the Bookseller may thus be reminders of the durability of the printed word, which unlike the rotting flesh, is actually enduring. 522 Leafing through Husz’s volume, the viewer uncovers the image, but also becomes implicated in it. If, as I proposed in the second chapter, Husz’s image presents the steps in the production and distribution of the printed word, then as users of books we are also given a role in this process. The books are put together and printed in a workshop; they are sold in a bookstore and, finally, read by a reader. Since the cadavers have already captured their victims in the W orkshop and the Bookstore and they are shown staring at us with a cheeky smile, it may be that as readers we are the next ones to go. Moreover, by looking dir ectly at us, the dead become, in the words of W olfgang Kemp, “our vehicles of identification, [or] figurations of the beholder in the image.” 523 They communicate with the viewer not 521 W illiam E. Engel, Mapping Mortality: The Persistence of Memory and Melancholy in Early Modern England (Amherst: Massachusetts UP, 1995) 77. 522 Karin Littau, Theories of Reading: Books, Bodies and Bibliomania (Malden, Massachusetts: Polity Press, 2006) 1. After all, at the time when Husz published his book, there were heated debates regarding the longevity of works printed on paper. While some hailed the new technology or at the very least acknowledged its usefulness, others were convinced that books printed on paper were perishable goods, which could never outlive or permanently replace manuscripts. On this issue, see the third chapter. 523 W olfgang Kemp, “The W ork of Art and Its Beholder: The Methodology of the Aesthetic of Reception”, The Subjects of Art History: Historical Objects in 195 only through their gazes, but also through their gestures though the implic ations of the latter are somewhat ambiguous. The cadaver in the shop may be pointing towards the Bookseller; identifying him as its next victim. However, his companion in the workshop, standing behind the printing press, points simply to the left, to no on e person specifically. By pointing in the opposite directions, the two cadavers may be attempting to visually reinsert the unusual image into the dancing sequence that precedes and follows it, or they may be signaling to the viewer that the final outcome of their visit to the W orkshop and the Bookstore is exactly the same as with all other scenes of the Danse, even if the composition is so very different. In most examples of the Danse, the dancing partners are typically shown facing the viewer and there is a sense that the procession of the living and the dead is meant to be observed, hence the Author’s comment regarding the mirror discussed above (Figs. 14 and 15). This is not the case with Husz’s Printers (Fig. 10). Save for the three cadavers, the other figures in the woodcut are completely unaware of our presence, each of them engrossed in a futile fight for their lives. What’s more, the scene takes place indoors in two distinct spaces that while not necessarily private, are nevertheless places in which the viewer is not expected to be present at that moment. Much like the dead, we intrude into the Printing W orkshop and the Bookstore and become privy to individual dramas that are enfolding. This creates a more personal and to some extent a more impactful effect than previous renditions of the theme. If anything, Husz’s image is an example of the narrowing down not only of audience who viewed the image, but also of the sequential procession that aims to replicate the whole of society. A single viewer leafing through the book alone is now presented with a scene that can function outside of the conventional framework of the Danse and the woodcut demonstrates how experimentation with the Dane in the medium of print offered new and original ways of representing the macabre. Contemporary Perspective, eds. Mark A. Cheetham, Michael Ann Holly and Keith Moxey (Cambridge UP, 1998) 187. 196 The Material Nature of the Printed Book and the “Acts of Viewing” 524 There are approximately nineteen known extant editions of the Danse macabre printed books published between 1485, the date of the first edition, and the early sixteenth century. 525 The books continued to be published, though more sporadically, through the sixteenth century and random editions even surfaced as part of the Bibliothèque bleue in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 526 Although studies on the Danse, such as the ones published by Leonard Kürtz or Hélène and Bertrand Utzinger, provide description of content for many early printed editions, there is of yet no comprehensive account that acknowledges the diverse 524 The term “acts of viewing” is borrowed from Areford’s study on the materiality of the printed image in which he suggests that the act of viewing was rarely a passive experience and typically involved a series of manipulations on the part of the viewer, including cutting away parts of the image, adding paint or painted details, and including hand written text. See Areford, The Viewer and the Printed, especially chapter 2. 525 The list of known editions and the libraries that house them can be found on the Incunabula Short Title Catalogue (ISTC) published online by the British Library. While the ISTC catalogues only editions published by the early sixteenth century (c.1503), the Universal Short Title Catalogue (USTC) issued by St. Andrew’s College considers a wider scope of early printed books and includes editions of the Danse macabre books published up until the end of the sixteenth century. 526 Bibliothèque bleue is the term used for a type of ephemera and popular literature that was published in France between c.1602 and c.1830s. Closer to brochures than proper books, works that belong to this category were typically illustrated with low quality prints, printed in small formats and sold with blue paper cover, hence the name. The Danse macabre books that belong to this group were mostly published in Troyes and can be seen as the continuation of the practice of publishing the title established by the printer Nicolas Le Rouge in the early sixteenth century. The first known edition of the Danse that can be categorized as belonging to the Bibliothèque bleue was published by Nicolas Oudot in 1641. Later editions include the one printed in 1729 by the widow of Jacques Oudot and by his son Jean and the one published in 1770 by Jean-Antoine Garnier. These editions typically include both men’s and women’s dances. For information on the books see: Danser avec le mort: Les danses macabres dans les manuscrits et les livres imprimés du XVe au XXe siècle, eds: Marie-Dominique Leclerc, Danielle Quéruel and Alain Robert (Lyon: Musée de l’imprimerie, 2004). See also Marie-Dominque Leclerc, “Les Editions bleues de la Danse macabre: Continuité et rupture”, Actes du dixième Congrès international sur les Danses macabres (Vendôme, 6-10 septembre 2000), Meslay-le-Grenet, Association européenne des Danses macabres, 2000, (93-110). 197 nature of the editions, especially in terms of their layout and physical characteristics. 527 Focused predominately on the painted examples, previous works on the Danse tend to discuss the printed books in general terms, as if the extant editions are merely repetitive and identical, when in fact they are not. Actually, it would be rather difficult to define what constitutes a ‘typical’ edition of the Danse, since the known examples range considerably. It could perhaps be argued that Marchant’s books come closest to being the model – no doubt because he published the highest number of editions and his version of woodcuts was most often used by other printers and publishers – but there are notable variations even across his editions. For example, a copy of the Danse macabre des femmes he published in 1491 and currently housed at the BN (Réserve Ye. 86) features woodcuts that have been hand painted after the book was printed. 528 Moreover, in October of 1490 Marchant printed an edition of the men’s Danse translated into Latin by Pierre Desrey and published by the bookseller Geoffrey de Marnef. 529 Much like the hand- colored copy of the women’s Danse, the Latin edition was modified to cater to specific clientele – the pious Christians who frequented de Marnef’s shops where ‘popular’ devotional books were sold in both French and Latin. 530 Editions published by other printers are equally varied. Sometime after June of 1492, the libraire-publisher Antoine Vérard commissioned Gillet Couteau and Jean Menard to print a lavish edition of the men’s Danse, which was printed on vellum and extensively hand-colored (Fig. 21). 531 In terms of the content, the two 527 See Leonard P. Kürtz, The Dance of Death and the Macabre Spirit 42-69 and Hélène and Bertrand Utzinger, Itinéraires des danses macabres (Chartres: Garnier, 1996). 528 Sandra Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 87. Hindman explains that the hand-colored copy was in the royal library and that it was likely commissioned for an aristocratic or royal patron. 529 As discussed in the third chapter, this book was printed in folio format and titled Chorea ab eximio macabre versibus alemanicis edita. 530 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 86. As I discussed in the third chapter, de Marnef owned a shop in Paris but also, together with his two brothers Jean and Enguilbert, kept store in towns such as Poitiers, Angers and Bruges where the books he published also circulated. 531 Two copies of this edition are known. One is housed at the BN (Vélins 579) and the other at Lambeth Palace Library in London (MS 279). Information regarding the 198 extant copies are identical. They are printed in folio format and include Vérard’s version of woodcuts featuring the men’s Danse and the verses of the Three Living illustrated with two woodcuts. 532 However, subtle variations in the way the woodcuts are painted – especially noticeable in the altering backgrounds of the Lambeth Palace copy in which even the figures in the same woodcut are occasionally placed against a different setting – make it difficult to describe the copies as being exactly the same. In fact, the two books function in somewhat paradoxical terms: they are at once the products of mechanical reproduction and at the same time each copy is an example of a unique, hand-made and authentic work of art. As such, they are the embodiments of the transitional period of bookmaking during which scribal and print culture were still heavily interwoven and where formal aspects of a given book – in this case, the application of hand-painted color – had significant impact on how the work was perceived. There are also significant differences in terms of content across the extant editions. Books published by Vérard included only the men’s Danse and the Three Living while Marchant, as discussed in previous chapters, began to expand his works with new woodcuts and additional texts just months after he issued the first edition. Not only did he add the ten new living figures to the men’s Danse by June of 1486, but he also invented a whole version of the women’s Danse in July of the same year. By this time, Marchant had started to append other devotional texts and images that complimented the Danse including the Three Living, the Debate and the Complainte. In the 1490s, printers such as Guillaume Le Rouge working in Troyes and Husz in Lyons continued to expand and modify the theme by including other texts and images, related predominately to the themes of sin and judgment. publication of this edition is scarce in part because the colophon printed at the end of the book is does not provide specific information regarding the date of the publication, the printers or the publisher. The ISTC dates it after June 26, 1492 and state that it was printed for Vérard by Couteau and possibly also Menard. 532 For a brief discussion of the difference between Vérard’s and Marchant’s version of woodcuts see the first chapter. As with all other editions published for Vérard, this one includes only the thirty male characters that are found in Marchant’s first edition from 1485 and which were based on the mural from the Cemetery of the Innocents. 199 Such diversity in format and content can be, at least partially, explained by two points. First, the assortment of editions reflects the transitional nature of the period in which the illustrated book as the medium was in the process of becoming and still heavily embedded in scribal culture. This is especially true for books produced in Paris, which from the thirteenth century onward was the center of manuscript production in Europe and where scribes, illuminators and printers frequently collaborated. 533 Moreover, printed images and illustrated books produced at the end of the fifteenth century influenced other media – works on enamel, textiles, and stained-glass windows, for example – but were also heavily influenced by them, as I discussed in the second Chapter. The collaboration of artists working in different media and the intermediality of much of artwork produced in France at the turn of the century is also reflected in the Danse books. W e will recall that copies of the men’s and women’s Danse were used to create a lavish manuscript in 1500 (BN, Ms. fr. 995) and that the editions were also used as models for the Meslay-le- Grenet and La Ferté-Loupière frescoes produced in the early sixteenth century (Figs. 1-7, 11 and 12). Second, the diversity of the printed editions of the Danse was prompted by the demands of the marketplace and particularly the appeal of the new that characterized much of the early printed works published at the time. Printers and publishers frequently marketed their works as revised, augmented, newly translated, or recently illustrated in hopes of attracting readers and expanding the market for their books. The need to change or reinvent popular and established titles initiated numerous collaborations between printers and booksellers – such as, for instance, the partnership between Marchant and de Marnef that resulted in the Latin edition of the Danse – and also created a demand for experimentation. Printers frequently ‘tested’ the market by producing altered versions of popular titles and partnered with other workshops or publishers in hopes of diffusing the costs and protecting their own enterprises since not all of the trial editions were bound to succeed and find sufficient readership. As I suggested in the previous chapter, the creation of the Danse macabre des femmes was almost certainly initiated by the appeal of the new 533 See Delaunay, “Echanges artistiques.” 200 and by Marchant’s ability to recognize the market’s need for such a title. By all accounts, the experiment worked – Marchant continually published the book and, even more importantly, printers such as Husz or Nicolas Le Rouge incorporated the women’s Danse in their own editions, thus further expanding the popularity of the title. On the other hand, Marchant’s attempt to publish the female version of the Shepherd’s Calendar, which he produced in collaboration with the publisher Jean Petit seems to have been much less successful, with only two editions recorded. Given the range in the production and content of the printed editions of the Danse, any viewer’s impression will be affected by the material aspects of the book itself. One of the goals of this chapter will therefore be to focus on specific editions of the Danse and analyze them in detail by focusing both on the content and the material aspects of each book. As Areford has argued, the early printed image is not a product of a single artist, but the result of multiple steps and often multiple hands (woodcutter, printer and painter, for example) and as such carries many layers of meaning. 534 At the same time and in contrast to the widespread belief that mechanically reproduced images are inherently repetitive or identical, Areford claims that “most early prints are characterized by a materiality that reinforces their singularity.” 535 Although his study centers on single sheet prints, Areford’s points regarding the materiality of early prints are also applicable to the medium of illustrated books in the fifteenth century. Even though early printed images were often designed to purposely simulate other media – colored drawings, woven textiles or, as was the case with Vérard’s books, illuminated manuscripts – it would be erroneous to assume that this was done solely for economic purposes in order to substitute for more expensive, hand-made and authentic objects. 536 According to Areford, the formal characteristics of early prints go beyond mere imitation or decoration; rather they are often suggestive of the print’s symbolic meaning. 537 Crucial among the formal elements is the role of color, as Susan Dackerman’s study 534 Areford 28. 535 Ibid. 14. 536 Ibid. 14. 537 Ibid. 14. 201 on the painted prints has recently shown. 538 W hile the earlier scholarship tended to view color in prints as inherently corruptive and typically ignored or criticized it, Dackerman’s work on the fifteenth and sixteenth century prints demonstrates that the presence of color is often integral in promoting the viewer’s compositional or symbolic understanding the work. 539 In discussing painted prints, Barbara W elzel suggested that we should reconsider how we think about editions of prints as identical or uniform objects and disregard the notion that every impression was necessarily intended to have the same meaning or function. 540 Such an approach would then result in changing the notion that the application of color diminishes the value of prints and, instead, prompt us to consider other contexts or reasons behind the existence of the ‘altered’ versions. Part of my interest in emphasizing the materiality of the different editions of the Danse is to show that not only through a selection of content, but also through the choice of design and layout printers such Marchant, Husz or Vérard had a crucial role in representing the theme of the Danse. W hat materials were used to fashion an edition, whether it was painted or not, how large or small it was – all these elements had an impact on how the Danse was perceived by the viewer. In fact, I would argue that a close examination of editorial strategies used to fashion different editions of the Danse is just as important for our understanding of how the theme was 538 See Dackerman, Painted Prints. 539 Ibid. 3. In the introduction of her book, Dackerman quotes the statement by the Dutchman W ilem Goeree who in the late seventeenth century stated that “To color prints is to spoil prints”, a point of view that has pervaded much of the literature on the prints since then. The marginalization of color in the study of prints is prompted, at least in part, by the fact that the hybrid nature of colored prints – at once printed and painted – calls into the question the issue of originality and authenticity of works of art. Since color is typically not applied by the engraver/woodcutter, it is seen as a form of alternation that diminishes the inherent value of the original. This was especially problematic since it was believed that color in many prints produced in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries was applied much later than the works were initially produced and hence seen as a mere embellishment. See the introduction of Dackerman’s book, 1-6. On W estern contempt for color in art see David Batchelor, Chromophobia (London: Reaktion Books, 2002). 540 Barbara W elzel, “Zur Vielfältigkeit eines Bildmediums: Monochrome und iluminierte Druckgraphik im frühen 16 Jahrhundert,” Der Bordesholmer Altar des Hans Brüggeman: Werk und Wirkung, ed. Uwe Albrecht (Berlin: D. Reimer, 1996). 202 presented in the medium of print as it is to consider the setting and context of each painted example, a strategy used convincingly in Elina Gertsman’s recent study of the murals. 541 By analyzing the spatial location and the overall pictorial programs of the churches in which the Danse murals were placed, Gertsman has shown that each example, though representing the same theme, actually functioned in a unique manner. 542 At the same time, regardless of the differences in layout or design, each fresco implicated the viewer directly and demanded his active participation. 543 The second aim of the present chapter will thus be to address the role of the viewer in the printed books. One of the main criticisms of illustrated books in the scholarship on the Danse has been the assumption that the translation of the theme from painted murals to printed books resulted in a narrowing down of audiences and a more prescribed interpretation of the subject matter. 544 In the public spaces of churches and cemeteries, the community as a whole was free to view and interpret the image together whereas the medium of the illustrated book r adically reduces the viewers to a single person leafing through the pages alone. According to Gertsman, such a change in audience had a negative effect on how the theme was perceived: In the private viewing experience afforded by the book format, the desire to actively involve the beholder in the process of viewing is tempered, as the life- 541 Gertsman, The Dance of Death, 125-159. 542 In earlier studies on the Dance of Death murals, the authors tended to isolate the image from the larger pictorial program in a given church and rarely studied the architectural setting of different examples. 543 For examples, in cases in which the Danse was painted along a straight wall, as in the church in Reval in Estonia or at the Cemetery of the Holy Innocents in Paris, the beholder was allowed an unobstructed view of the image. However, the monumental nature of frescoes, which typically stretched over twenty or thirty meters in length, required that the viewer perform a sort of dance of her own by coming closer to observe the details and stepping away to consider the entire image while at the same time moving along with the procession. Conversely, the murals at La Chaise-Dieu in Auvergne and the church in Berlin in which the procession of dancers was divided or obstructed by architectural elements and altered by the changes in design resulted in a markedly different reading of the Danse. See Gertsman, especially pages 125-159. 544 See, for instance, Ashby Kinch, “The Danse Macabre” and Gertsman, The Dance of Death, 165. 203 size processions of Death and the living are replaced by the episodic structure of separate vignettes, which hardly exert the same kind of power over the reader as do the solemn processions of lifelike figures in large-scale paintings.” 545 Moreover, in the printed books the Danse was almost immediately situated alongside other devotional texts and images and therefore encased in what Ashby Kinch has described as “doctrinally rigid and interpretively narrow material.” 546 As Kinch argues, the choice of texts appended to the Danse offered the reading subject a singular view of death and the afterlife with no recourse for an alternative reading of the theme. 547 While it is undoubtedly true that the transition from one medium to another had profound effects on how the Danse was presented and viewed, is it actually productive to view the function of the books in such narrow terms, especially given their range and disparity? I have already shown in previous chapters that a broader examination of the historical and cultural contexts in which the books were published, suggests that they participated in discourse beyond the macabre including scientific and astrological debates or the interest in exploring the theme of the folly at the turn of the century. Moreover, the very medium of the illustrated book emphasizes the act of reading and looking – both of which are integral in experiencing the theme of the Danse. Even if, as Gertsman argues, the viewing experience afforded by the book format is “tempered”, that does not mean that it is always necessarily negative. In fact, could we not argue that Vérard’s painted copies in which the figures of the dead and the living are rendered with extreme attention to detail, afforded a view of the Danse that might not have been possible with all mural examples? For instance, the fresco at La Chaise-Dieu was executed using sgraffito, a technique created by applying layers of plaster tinted in contrasting color, and the image was only partially completed (Fig. 28). As a result, the silhouettes of yellowish 545 Gertsman 165. 546 Kinch, “The Danse Macabre” 187. 547 Ibid. 187. 204 figures are shown dancing against a fiery red background, which does imbue the image with an ominous quality, but prevents the viewer from observing the physical differences between the dead and the living or marvel at the opulence of costumes. Likewise, the mural at Mesely-le-Grenet, which is actually based on Vérard’s woodcuts, features fully painted figures, but its position, above the viewer’s head, made it difficult to see all the details of costumes and faces while at the same time engaging with the verses below (Figs. 1-5). 548 In contrast, Vérard’s books offered the viewer an unrestricted view of both figures and text and the richness of colors used to illuminate the woodcuts highlighted the contrast between the plump clothed bodies of the living and the emaciated, blackened features of the dead (Figs. 21 and 56). The focus on the details in the woodcuts – a pink rosy glow of the King’s visage, a shiny metal armor that encapsulates the body of the Constable or the subtle shading used in the Lambeth Palace copy – all help to stimulate the viewing process and encourage an active participation on the part of the beholder. A similar point can be made regarding the content of the Danse books. Medieval manuscripts and printed books often provided instructions on how to read a given text or a set of prayers and even, as Laurel Amtower has shown, went so far as to project “a reader as a psychological being whose mind, emotion, and personality might be opened up and “completed” by the text.” 549 This is certainly what Marchant had in mind when he composed the colophon in 1486 in which he referred to the Danse as the “Salutary Mirror” and sketched out the ideal users of the book – devout men and women who desire to obtain salvation. The texts that Marchant appended to his augmented editions and those that were later added by other printers and publishers do indeed stem from didactic and religious literature and focus mainly on sin and punishment. As such, they are in Kinch’s words “doctrinally rigid and interpretatively narrow”, yet we should not assume that there is only one way in which they were read, especially given the fact that the Danse was 548 This is even more true for the mural at La Ferté-Loupière in Burgundy, which is painted high above the viewer’s head and can only be observed from the distance. 549 Laurel Amtower, Engaging Words: The Culture of Reading in the Later Middle Ages (New York: Palgrave, 2000, 6). 205 from its inception such a malleable theme. 550 After all, as Roger Chartier reminds us, no written work has a universal, stable or fixed meaning and there are multiple ways in which it can be interpreted by different audiences that take a hold of it. 551 Literary reception theorists have long studied the “role of the reader” in the text and explored ways in which reception can often diverge significantly from the intended meaning of a work. 552 However, for my purposes here, the work of cultural historians, especially Chartier and more recently Karen Littau who explore the act of reading as an embodied process and for whom the materiality of the book plays an important role in how the text is interpreted is especially useful. As Littau points out: Since a text is also […] an embodied material object, this object’s materiality and physical organization conditions our reading. Thus conceived, texts bring into contact content, form and matter, and readers respond to linguistic and literary codes as well as bibliographical and medium specific ones. 553 In the context of the Danse macabre books that are, as I outlined above, vastly different in terms of medium and layout, Littau’s approach could help expand our understanding of how the books may have been read. The readers of medieval and early modern works often left traces of themselves on the pages of books they were using. Such ‘remnants’ of the reader in the book, or what Areford refers to as “traces of reception”, could take many forms: some users left written prayers, commentary or instructions, others added drawings in the margins or in the main image, and there were also those who cut away parts 550 Kinch, “The Danse Macabre” 187. 551 Roger Chartier, The Order of Books: Readers, Authors and Libraries in Europe Between the Fourteenth and Eighteenth Centuries, trans. Lydia G. Cochrane (Cambridge: Polity Press, 1994) ix-v. 552 See for instance Umberto Eco, The Role of the Reader: Explorations in the Semiotics of Texts (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1979); W olfgang Iser, The Act of Reading: A Theory of Aesthetic Response (Baltimore and London: John Hopkins UP, 1978); or Susan R. Suleiman and Inge Crossman eds., The Reader in the Text: Essays on Audience and Interpretation (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton UP, 1980). 553 Littau 2. 206 of the page or the image and even pasted new material in the book they were reading. 554 According to Areford, these alterations of the preexisting text and image suggest that the “act of viewing” was not a passive experience, but one that involved an active participation on the part of the viewer. 555 In terms of the Danse books, the presence of the reader can be traced in several copies of the existing editions – a fact that has not been acknowledged in the literature on the subject thus far. Such evidence of the reader’s presence in the books adds another layer of meaning and helps to understand how the audience interacted with the theme of the Danse in the medium of illustrated books. The Question of Audience Who were the readers of the Danse books? W e know that some copies, especially hand-painted ones, were listed in the royal libraries and were obviously intended for aristocratic readers, but what about the other, less adorned editions? In the studies on the early printed books, editions of the Danse are often credited as helping to create the market for ‘popular’ illustrated works in Paris – a genre previously published mostly in Lyons by printers such as Husz and others – though we have to wonder what exactly is meant by the term ‘popular’? 556 Although the process of mechanical reproduction allowed for the creation of multiple, identical copies and helped to disseminate the theme to a wider group of readers, it would be wrong to assume as David Bland and other scholars in the past have done that the editions of the Danse are examples of “poor man’s books.” 557 Just because printed 554 Areford 15. 555 Ibid. 15. 556 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 68. For a discussion of ‘popular’ printing in Lyons with a comparison to Paris, see Dominique Coq, “Les incunables: Textes anciens, texts nouveaux,” Histoire de l’édition française, vol. 1, Le livre conquérant: Du Moyen Age au milieu du XVIe siècle, eds. Henri-Jean Martin and Roger Chartier (Paris, 1982, 177-193). 557 David Bland, A History of Book Illustration: The Illuminated Manuscript and the Printed Book (London: Faber and Faber, 1958) 131. In his study, Bland only 207 books were generally cheaper than illuminated manuscripts, does not mean that they were necessarily affordable and available to members of the lower classes or that they were popular across all strata of late fifteenth century French society. In her seminal essay on early printing in France, Natalie Zemon Davis has shown that popular books were not read and bought only by the “petites gens” and that the content and appearance of books should not be used to define their audiences. 558 Because the information regarding the late fifteenth century printing workshops and bookstores – especially data pertaining to the cost of specific titles or the type of clientele that purchased books – is fairly scarce, scholars have been relying on other sources of information to identify the audience of early printed books. Chief among these are book transfers, formal catalogues of princely families and appraisals of estates for legal purposes that are found in notarial inventories. 559 Although such documents date mainly from the sixteenth century, a study conducted by Alexander Schutz in which the author examined notarial archives of Paris, known as the Minutier Central des Notaires, is particularly useful for our purposes here because it considers vernacular works. 560 Schutz consulted approximately 220 inventories of private libraries from the sixteenth century listed in the state appraisals and catalogued popular titles that frequently appeared on such lists, including copies of the Danse books and the Shepherd’s Calendar. According to Schutz, the majority of book owners listed in notarial inventories came from the upper middle classes and the lower nobility. 561 Among them were members that belonged to the legal circle discusses Marchant’s editions and does not acknowledge the existence of other printers and publishers who produced the work. According to him, Marchant’s editions of the Danse were aimed at “the under-privileged” who must have enjoyed looking at Death that strikes the great and the wealthy, 131. 558 Natalie Zemon Davis, “Printing and the People”, Society and Culture in Early Modern France (Stanford: Stanford UP, 1975), 189-226, 191. 559 One of the most famous studies of French notarial inventories was conduced by Albert Labarre in the 1970s. See: Albert Labarre, Le livre dans la vie amienoise du seizième siècle: L’enseignement de inventaires après décès, 1503-1576 (Paris: Nauwelaerts, 1971). 560 See Alexander H. Schutz, Vernacular Books in Parisian Private Libraries of the Sixteenth Century According to the Notarial Inventories, University of North Carolina Studies in the Romance Languages and Literatures, no. 25 (Chapel Hill, 1955). 561 Ibid. 6. 208 including counselors at court, members of the parliament, lawyers and notaries. 562 Physicians, including surgeons, were also listed as were those belonging to the marchand-bourgeois class and other trades people including apothecaries, innkeepers and haberdashers. 563 As expected, booksellers and members of the clergy owned books, as did individuals that belonged to the noble families. Of what value are notarial inventories when it comes to assessing the popularity of a given title? Just because a book was listed in a private library, does not necessarily mean that the title was popular at a particular time. Much like modern day book owners, individuals in the sixteenth century had books on their shelves that they inherited or received as gifts but that they never actually read. In addressing these issues, Schutz makes two important points. One, when it comes to book collecting, the state of affairs in the early modern France was actually quite unusual. 564 During the transition from the fifteenth to the sixteenth century, several strata of French society, especially the bourgeoisie, expanded or came into being at the time, thus constituting a brand new social group. These were groups that burgeoned under the rule of Francis I – often stemming from the legal circles – that bought noble lands and elevated their social status rapidly. 565 For the most part, libraries belonging to such families – the nouveaux riches of the period – were typically fairly new and reflected specific tastes of the period. Second, the presence of printed books in a given library could help to ‘date’ the collection. In the sixteenth century, printing was stilly relatively new and printed editions dated back to, at the most, the last two decades of the previous century. For this reason, as Schutz states, “the gap between the date of the publication and the date of the acquisition had to be more limited than at any subsequent time.” 566 Who then were the owners of the Danse books listed in Schutz’s study? Half of the owners came from the bourgeois classes, whereas only one quarter was 562 Ibid. 5. 563 Ibid. 23. 564 Ibid. 8. 565 Ibid. 5. 566 Ibid. 8. 209 found in the noble libraries. 567 Among the bourgeois owners of the books, three- quarters were women, though as Sandra Hindman has argued, this data is difficult to interpret. 568 Since in this period women were typically a whole generation younger than their husbands, they may have just inherited their husbands’ libraries. 569 In other words, we should not assume that the Danse books were largely preferred by female readers, though the presence of many women owners is certainly interesting and worth researching further. By comparison, the Shepherd’s Calendar, the other illustrated bestseller first published by Marchant, was also largely owned by bourgeois families with a slightly higher percentage of owners from the nobility. 570 In fact, one-third of owners of the Danse also owned copies of the Shepherd’s Calendar – a point that suggests that the two works were seen as comparable by the readers and buyers of the period. 571 Interestingly, largely absent from the list of owners of either the Danse or the Shepherd’s Calendar were members of the nouveaux riches, or the freshly constituted classes that developed in the early sixteenth century. 572 Libraries of such individuals seem to include works that had a long-standing manuscript tradition among the royal and noble circles such as Boccaccio’s Decameron or Barholomeus Anglicus’ On the Property of Things. 573 As Hindman explains, this information is also not easy to understand. It could be that in desiring to mimic the reading practices of the nobility, members of the nouveaux riches classes stayed away from the new works and opted for the more established 567 Ibid. 44. One is a copy that was allegedly owned by Anne of Brittany, though that book is yet to be located. The second is an edition found at the royal library at the castle of Blois. On the missing copy that belonged to Anne of Brittany see Alphonse M. Chazaud, Enseignements d’Anne de France: Inventaire des meubles estans en la maison de Monseigneur le duc de Bourbonnais et d’Auvergne estant en sa ville d’Aiguesperses (Paris: 1507). 568 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 90. For example, Claude Cousin, the wife of Nicolas Millot, a docteur regent of the Faculty of Medicine in Paris, was listed as one of owners. Two women from Amiens, Jeanne Labbé and Jacqueline Martin also owned the books. 569 Ibid. 90-91. 570 For instance, a copy of the Shepherd’s Calendar was listed in the princely library of the Châlon-Orange family and in the library of Francis I at Blois. 571 Hindman, “The Career of Guy Marchant” 91. 572 Ibid. 91. 573 Ibid. 91. 210 titles. 574 At the same time, the nobility in choosing to purchase the Danse macabre and the Shepherd’s Calendar were expanding their libraries and “setting new patterns of taste.” 575 However, both Schutz and Hindman suggests that the Danse was essentially a medieval work, related more to the scribal than the printing culture and thus hardly an example of a new type of book. 576 Alternatively, it may be possible, as I suggested in the third chapter, that the Danse was essentially a conservative theme that aimed to halt rather than to embrace any real social change. As such, the work would undoubtedly be more appealing to the aristocracy who whished to maintain their long-standing social status and embrace the view of world as it was, than to those upwardly mobile classes who actually benefited from the ongoing stratification of the late medieval and early modern French society. One last point regarding the data collected from the notarial inventories should be made. W hile the Danse and the Shepherd’s Calendar shared the same audience initially, the popularity of the latter persisted through the sixteenth century whereas the interest in the Danse seems to have dwindled by about 1525. The latest occurrences of the Danse in the inventories surveyed by Schutz date from 1551, but these are libraries that belonged to two booksellers, one of which was Gailot du Pré. 577 In each case, the booksellers owned a hundred copies of the book, which suggests that they were having a difficult time finding buyers for the title. The inventory of bookseller Denis Janot, which dates from 1522, lists fifty copies of the 574 Ibid. 91. 575 Ibid. 91. 576 According to Schutz, the breakdown of owners of the Danse books suggests that the title “essentially a medieval work, but in its day popular in more then one social class”, 44. On the other hand, Hindman notes that the practice of creating hybrid copies of the books, links the subject matter of the Danse more to scribal culture and medieval sensibility than to the works produced exclusively in the print medium at the turn of the century, 90. This is because Marchant never published texts by, for example, Clichtoveus or other humanists tracts in such dual editions. According to Hindman, this may be because the works by these authors were never associated with scribal culture and first circulated in the medium of print, hence there was no need to simulate manuscripts in hybrid editions. The Danse, on the other hand was a medieval subject matter and, as I noted in the first chapter, occasionally appeared in the margins of medieval manuscripts and was thus closer to the world of scribal culture than the more modern, humanist texts. 577 Schutz 44. 211 Danse – another sign that the interest in the subject matter was beginning to wane. 578 Parenthetically, the seemingly large number of copies on stock in three separate inventories of booksellers suggests that the Danse was originally published in fairly large editions while it also shows how few copies actually survived to present day. 579 The period that marks the decline of popularity (c. 1525) also corresponds to the drop in the frequency of editions, another point that implies that the Danse was no longer of interest to a wide group of readers. The Impact of Color: Hand-Painted Editions Published by Antoine Vérard In comparison to Marchant’s editions, especially his editio princeps from 1485, the Danse books published by Vérard are rarely studied in detail. Scholarly texts on the Danse, even the ones that include color reproductions of Vérard’s woodcuts, seldom discuss different features of the editions or even comment on the details of the images. 580 Yet, visually Vérard’s editions are among the most stimulating examples of the Danse in any medium and much of it has to do with the usage of color and the clarity of the design. There are two or possibly three extant editions of the Danse that were printed for Vérard in Paris in the 1490s. 581 As one of the most successful libraire-publishers, Vérard rarely printed the books himself, but rather hired other presses in the city to produce the work under his name. During the course of his career at least twenty different printers were under his employment, including those that are associated with the Danse books such as Marchant, Nicole de la Barre and Pierre Le Rouge. Typically, he financed the editions and provided the typographical materials to the 578 Ibid 44. 579 Hindman 92. 580 For example, Gertsman’s study of the Danse includes a full page color reproduction of an edition published for Vérard by Pierre La Rouge c.1491-92, but does not discuss the uniqueness of this book, especially in terms of its size, layout and color. See Gertsman, “The Dance of Death,” 355. 581 To date the most comprehensive study of Vérard’s career is W inn, Anthoine Vérard. 212 printers he employed. 582 As a result, most colophons in the books he issued declare the editions to be published “pour Anthoine Verard”, while the names of the printers or the presses are not always included. 583 To make matters even more confusing for the scholars of the French incunabula, colophons of Vérard’s editions are often partially rubbed off so that the names of the printers or even Vérard’s own publishing house are no longer visible. 584 Vérard’s books are therefore frequently identified on the basis of the printing materials, such as the type, woodblocks or borders, which he lent to the printers he hired. 585 Two of the three known editions of Vérard’s Danse are hand painted. The first was printed by Pierre Le Rouge c. 1491-92, while the second painted edition came from the press of Gillet Couteau, and possibly also Jean Menard, sometime after June 26, 1492. 586 The third edition was also the work of Couteau and Menard and it was printed in Paris on June 26, 1492. Although neither Vérard’s name nor his printer’s device are featured in the edition, the book’s content and illustrations are identical to the other two editions of the Danse and hence it is possible that it was also printed for the famous libraire-publisher. 587 All three editions feature the same 582 Ibid. 18. 583 Ibid. 18. As W inn explains, a few editions in the period from 1486-1489 indicate printing “par Vérard” it is very unlikely that he actually operated the press himself. 584 This is the case with the vellum copies of the Danse housed at the BN and the Lambeth Palace Library. Although both books contain a colophon, the last few lines are erased. Identity of the printers of Vérard’s books are typically established by examining the type used in specific editions. 585 Ibid 30. However, in a number of cases, Vérard did use his printer’s mark, a heart with the letters AV, in the books he published. 586 The sole copy of Le Rouge’s edition is preserved at the BN as Rés Te. 8. This is the copy that was found at the royal library of the castle at Blois. Vérard’s second painted edition is found in two copies, one at the BN and the other at the Lambeth Palace Library in London. See footnote 17. 587 The sole copy of this edition is preserved in the library of the Petit Palais in Paris as Dutuit 301. For information on this edition see Fréderic Barbier, ed, Paris: capital des livres. Le monde des livres et la presse à Paris, du Moyen Âge a XXe siècle (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 2007), especially page 88 and image 35. Barbier suggests that it is likely that the book was printed for Vérard and a similar assumption is made in the written commentary on the cover page of the edition printed by Le Rouge (BN Rés. Te 8), which states “…Un autre example fait partie de 213 content: text and illustrations of the Danse macabre des hommes and Three Living. The woodcuts used for Vérard’s editions differ significantly from those found in Marchant’s versions, though the identity of the artist who designed them has never been established. Given the prominence of Vérard’s publishing enterprise and his trade practices, it is safe to assume that he was the owner of this set of woodcuts (and probably also the person who commissioned them) and that he lent them out to the presses he employed. 588 Vérard’s practice of producing vellum copies for his printed editions is one of the hallmarks of his career. According to Mary Beth W inn, parchment copies exist for some 150 editions published by Vérard, which is an impressive achievement. 589 Along with publishing new ‘modern’ works, Vérard included many established ‘classics’ in his oeuvre and maintained a very traditional typographical style. His books were typically published in folio format, printed in the bâtarde type and heavily illustrated to mimic medieval manuscripts. 590 The idea of simulating manuscripts in the new medium of print was not originally Vérard’s – the scribe and printer Colard Mansion from Bruges began the practice – but the Parisian publisher really la collection de Petit Palace.” The ISTC lists only Couteau and Menard as the printers of the edition. 588 Even though Vérard’s cuts were not used in as many versions of the Danse books, they must have been fairly well known since they were copied or used as models for representations of the theme in several mediums. Printers such as Nicole de la Barre and Matthias Husz used Vérard’s version for their editions of the Danse printed in Paris and Lyons respectively. Likewise, Simon Vostre and Philippe Pigouchet, who became famous for their editions of printed Books of Hours, often relied on Vérard’s cuts to make borders with the figures from the Danse that decorated the Office of the Dead. Vérard’s woodcuts also served as the model for the miniatures of the men’s Danse in the Danse macabre manuscript produced c. 1500 (BN Ms. fr. 995) and they were likely used for the creation of the mural at Meslay-le-Grenet. 589 W inn, footnote 52, page 31. As she states, copies on vellum tend to be better preserved than those printed on paper, though we have to assume that even some of those have been lost over time and that the original total number of parchment editions exceeds what is now known. 590 Ibid 31. Bâtarde was a Gothic script used in France, Burgundy and Germany in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries. The early printers adopted the script and created the new typeface, which was used in France until the mid sixteenth century. 214 popularized the idea. 591 These “printed manuscripts” were meant to attract not only the nobility, though they were certainly one of the main customers, but also the burgeoning classes made up of parliament officials and members of the legal circles who were in the process of assembling their libraries and wanted copies of books that resembled manuscripts. 592 As W inn suggests, although they all belong to a general category of printed manuscripts, there is in fact variation in terms of quality and style amongst Vérard’s vellum copies. 593 Those aimed at the royal and princely clientele are highly personalized and expertly painted by the finest artists. On the other hand, the more commercial versions include woodcuts painted more hastily with lots of color, but not much skill. Each example, however, “alerts us […] to an essential characteristic of Vérard’s books: the individuality of each copy.” 594 The traditional account of the history of printed images argues that color diminishes and virtually disappears as the technique of printmaking improved over the course of the fifteenth century. According to Dackerman, “is a truism in the history of art that color was applied to the earliest prints to compensate for their technical shortcomings.” 595 Yet, as Dackerman’s study shows, application of color was practiced and promoted through the seventeenth century and, even more significantly, color often served a pivotal role in the design and meaning of the 591 Ibid. 31. Because Anatole Claudin suggested that Vérard was initially a miniaturist and a scribe, scholars have assumed that his interest in vellum copies of printed books is result of his background and that he may have even illustrated the works he published. W inn disputes this idea by arguing that there is not enough documentation to support such a claim, though he must have had some connection with the scribal culture before he ventured into the world of printing. On the issue of scribes who became printers see Sheila Edmunds: “From Schoffer to Vérard: Concerning the Scribes W ho Became Printers”, Printing the Written Word: The Social History of Books, circa 1450-1520, ed. Sandra L. Hindman (Ithaca and London: Cornell UP, 1991) 21-40. 592 Coq 189. 593 W inn 31. 594 Ibid. 32. This point is tied to the argument I suggested at the beginning of this chapter, namely that at this early stage of printing in France editions of the same title, even those issued by the same press, differ considerably and should thus be studied individually. 595 Dackerman 9. 215 printed images. 596 Since in the past scholars tended to assume that paint was applied to prints at some later point when the image was already “completed”, not much research has been done regarding the artists that colored the images. Typically, the colorist was an individual other than the woodcutter or engraver who was hired to work on the printed image. 597 Dackerman’s inquiry into the archival records of the city of Nuremberg in the late fifteenth and the sixteenth century suggests that the profession of the print colorists did exist, though it was recorded under several different names. 598 Attempting to regulate their trade, the colorists petitioned together with card painters in 1477 and 1482 and demanded that the court provide classification for the two professions. 599 By 1546, however, the colorists petitioned together with the illuminators – a move that suggests that by the mid sixteenth century the makers of illuminated manuscripts found themselves in need of expanding their trade to include woodcuts and engravings as the popularity of the printed books increased. 600 In Paris, as Richard and Mary Rouse have shown, scribes and illuminators collaborated with printers and publishers almost as soon as the printing industry was established in the city in 1470. 601 Vérard employed a number of illuminators in his enterprise the most famous of which was the Master of Jacques de Besançon who painted miniatures that depicted Vérard presenting copies of his lavish books to royal patrons. 602 Even Marchant, whose press did not frequently produce hand painted books, seemed to have had a business relationship with Jehan Le Cousturier, the illuminator from the place Maubert, though the exact circumstances of their collaboration require further research. 603 It is very likely, therefore, that Vérard’s painted editions of the Danse were colored by some of the illuminators that 596 Ibid. 11. 597 Ibid. 15. 598 Ibid. 19. 599 Ibid. 21. 600 Ibid. 22. 601 See Rouse and Rouse, Manuscripts and Their Makers, especially pages 321- 323. 602 W inn 35. 603 Jêrome Pichon et Georges Vicaire, Pichon and Vicare, Documents pour servir à l’histoire des libraires de Paris, 1486-1600 (Paris: n.p., 1895) 14. 216 worked for the publisher and it is also obvious from the design that color played an integral role in these renditions of the theme. Not only is every costume carefully rendered to denote the status of the living figures, whether lay or clerical, but the artist employed delicate shading techniques in gold to emphasizes the folds of the textile and the three dimensionality of the bodies (Figs, 21-23 and 56). This is particularly obvious in the Lambeth Palace copy and the version printed for Vérard by Le Rouge in which we also note the striking presence of saturated ultramarine blue in the background (Figs. 21, 22 and 23). Thomas Primaeu, who studied the types of pigments used in Renaissance and Baroque prints, pointed out that prior to 1500 the presence of the color blue is much less common in printed images than hues of reds, yellows or greens. 604 Although available from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance and frequently employed in manuscript illuminations and paintings, it was seemingly (especially the precious ultramarine blue) too expensive to be frequently used in print. 605 A closer examination of the pigments used in Vérard’s copies of the Danse would be necessary to identify the precise hues used in his books, but the frequency of the color blue in the woodcuts certainly further links these editions to scribal culture and emphasizes their uniqueness and opulence. Neither of the two vellum copies published for Vérard includes the title page, printer’s device or a table of contents. The only information pertaining to the content and publishing details is found in the colophon at the end of the work and in both cases the colophon is partially rubbed off. In their present states, the colophons read: “Cy finist la dãce macabre historiee et augmentee de plusieurs nouveaux personnages et beaux dits. Et les trois mors y trois vifs enseble nouvellemet ainsi cõposee et imprimee a paris”. The two books begin with a large illustration showing the figure of the Author with the two-stanza prologue printed below. The Danse is illustrated on both recto and verso pages and each woodcut depicts two pairs of 604 Thomas Primeau, “The Materials and Technology of Renaissance and Baroque Hand-Colored Prints”, Painted Prints: The Revelation of Color in Northern Renaissance and Baroque Engravings, Etchings and Woodcuts, ed. Susan Dackerman (Baltimore: The Baltimore Museum of Art and University Park, Pennsylvania: The Pennsylvania State UP, 2002) 49-76. 605 Ibid. 60. 217 dancing partners arranged according to their station in medieval secular and religious hierarchies. As in Marchant’s version of woodcuts, the illustrations are framed with arches and columns, though in Vérard’s rendition a single column is also placed between the dancing pairs (Fig. 56). The insertion of the additional column gives the effect that figures are actually dancing beneath an arcade while at the same time it also works to visually separate the two dancing pairs shown on each page. This is especially obvious in the Lambeth Palace copy in which, as stated earlier, the background for each pair is painted in different colors. For example, the woodcut depicting the Abbot and the Bailiff shows the figures dancing in an exterior locale, with delicate grass and foliage visible on the ground, yet the Abbot stands against a starry blue sky while the Bailiff is positioned opposite a plain gray colored background (Fig. 56). The work is printed using the bâtarde typeface that mimics script and adds to the illusion that we are looking at a manuscript rather than the printed book. Remnants of scribal culture are also visible in the decorated initials, painted red, that are placed at the beginning of the poem and at the opening of each new stanza (Fig. 57). The principal differences between Vérard’s vellum copies and the more common editions of the Danse such as, for instance those published by Marchant, is in the overwhelming dominance of the visual over the textual components. This is obvious even from the first page that depicts the figure of the Author seated in an elaborate chair in front of an open book. The woodcut is unusually large, measuring 15cm x 17cm and takes up almost the entire page. 606 The Author’s prologue, written in double columns is relegated to the lower part of the folio and cannot compete with the vivid colors and the large size of the image above. In Marchant’s versions, the woodcuts were typically ‘framed’ by the text since he included verses of the Vado mori poem in Latin above the illustrations and the dialogue of the Danse below, thus delegating practically equal amount of space to both the text and image on a single 606 This is the largest image in the book. As a means of comparison, Marchant’s illustrations of the Author typically measure 15cm x 14cm. 218 page (Figs. 29 and 30). 607 As a result, the viewer remains focused on the text and the image simultaneously especially because both the word and the picture have the same black and white structure. 608 This is not the case with Vérard’s vellum copies that are marked by the “Technicolor flashiness” in which the eye of the viewer is continually directed towards the image and away from the text (Figs. 21, 56 and 57). 609 For example, the gaunt bodies of the dead are rendered with detail and attention is paid to different aspects of corporeal decomposition. Like Marchant’s cadavers, the dead in Vérard’s books are occasionally shown with blackened torsos filled with vermin, but they are also depicted with worms in their chest cavities or under the stretched skin of the shoulders – a feature not seen in other renditions of the Danse (Fig. 58). In the Lambeth Palace copy, the cadavers are painted in hues of either ochre or gray – perhaps hinting at stages of decomposition – while also adding visual interest by portraying diverse figures of death (Fig. 21 and 56). In addition, at least two cadavers in Vérard’s books are shown with male genitalia and of them, featured next to the figure of the Bourgeois, uncharacteristically, still has a striking human face (Figs. 58 and 59). The figures of the living are equally individualized not only because their costumes are colorful and hence more impactful, but also because their age and facial expressions are carefully rendered. For example, the Bailiff’s youthful visage is in stark contrast to the Abbots’ wrinkled face (Fig. 21). The juxtaposition between the decomposing, vermin-infested bodies of the dead and the clothed and adorned figures of the living is more effective than in the black and white editions and serves to highlight the frivolity of costumes and earthly possessions, while also potentially f ostering an interest in the opulent and 607 A similar point was made by Michael Camille who analyzed the visual structure of the pictorial narratives in woodcuts and miniatures of the Pèlerinage de la vie humaine, another popular illustrated work, and concluded that the most significant changes in the visual representation of the poem occurred not when it was translated from one language to another, but when it transformed from the medium of manuscript to that of print. See Camille 259-291. 608 Ibid. 283. Camille argues that “the print medium creates less of a rift between image and text than occurs in manuscript illustrations” because the woodcut has the same black and white structure as the text on the page, 281-83. 609 Ibid. 267. 219 beautiful things. The shiny metal armor worn by the Constable can provide no protection from the assault by the dead, nor can the Sergeant, decked out in the most fashionable red and blue costume with slashed leggings and a hat with large plumes, escape the dance though he is certainly trying to (Fig. 57). In Vérard’s hand painted editions, the application of color thus serves to enhance the impact of gestures, expressions and costumes of the figures in the Danse and maintain the viewer’s interest in exploring each woodcut. In the BN copy, the dancing figures are all placed against the same background – they are standing on grass covered ground, while the blue sky behind them is shaded naturalistically from dark to light (Figs. 57, 58 and 59). The consistent background visually unites the woodcuts so that the viewer ‘reads’ each scene as taking place at the same time and at the same location. This is not the case, however, with the Lambeth Palace copy in which backgrounds vary with almost every pair: an azure colored sky speckled with gold stars, burgundy colored background with gold embellishments, and dark blue or simple gray backgrounds (Figs. 21 and 56). Such diversity of colors and choices for backgrounds enhances the opulence of this particular copy, but it also serves to fracture the visual unity of the woodcuts since each pair is presented as being a separate encounter with Death. While editions published by Marchant, Husz or Guillaume Le Rogue, encased the Danse in a broader framework by adding other moralizing texts and images, Vérard’s books remain focused solely on the Danse and its macabre companion, the Three Living. Vérard also never included any additional figures to the male Danse or published an edition of the Danse macabre des femmes, choosing instead to focus on the original format of the Danse as it existed in the mural from the Innocents. It is possible that his clientele was more interested in macabre subject matter than in didactic literature in general and hence favored the Danse and the Three Living. It is also true that unlike the other titles typically appended to the Danse in the printed books, the Three Living is the only other one that relies equally on both the text and the image to convey its message – an aspect that was undoubtedly appealing to Vérard who preferred to adorn his works with lavish illustrations. In his books, as in 220 all other editions, the Three Living is placed after the Danse on two facing folios (Figs. 60 and 61). The design of Vérard’s cuts is similar to Marchant’s although, again, the presence of color and attention to detail enhances the impact of the subject matter depicted. The encounter between the living and the dead takes place outdoors in the presence of a Hermit who is pictured seated behind the three corpses on the far left holding a scroll that reads: Omnium terriblium mors. In the Lambeth Palace copy, the three dead are painted in different colors: two are ochre- yellow, while the one in the middle is dark grey, possibly, again, to heighten the visual lure of the image. The dead stand next to the large yellow cross with a crucifix, which functions as a barrier that separates the world of the living from that of the dead in most depictions of the legend. Further in the distance is a walled town with rooftops and a church that adds visual interest to the image, but also signals the society at large. As in Marchant’s edition, the living figures are portrayed on horses and the woodcut shows them in an attempt to flee the deadly encounter their arms raised in shock and their falcons flying away. In the Lambeth Palace copy, the horses are painted in different colors (white, brown and black) and the three figures wear costumes adorned with intense ultramarine blue – perhaps another hint at the luxurious nature of this particular copy. Vérard’s third hand-colored edition of the Danse is probably the most unusual. Extant in a single copy preserved at the BN (Estampes, Rés. Te 8), the work was printed for Vérard by Pierre Le Rouge using the same woodcuts as seen in the other two editions (Figs. 22 and 23). The book was part of the royal library at the Château de Blois and it was presented as a gift to King Charles VIII. That Le Rouge was asked to print the edition is not surprising: at the time the book was made he held the title of “printer to the King” and produced numerous illustrated books for the collection of Charles VIII. According to W inn, the artist who painted the woodcuts is also known – the Master of Jacques de Besançon who, as stated earlier, often collaborated with Vérard. 610 The format of this edition is exceptional. Originally intended as a placard, a poster typically mounted on the wall, it was two 610 W inn 109. 221 meters long and 56cm high. 611 In its present state, the placard is cut up into five folios, glued onto a thick, carton-like material and bound in a large book (40cm x 56cm). The first pages of the book are made of parchment and include a painted frontispiece – two angels holding the arms of France and two falcons standing on the grass covered ground below – along with another inscription. 612 Because the original format has been altered, the book now features four woodcuts per page and the hierarchical order of the Danse is severely compromised. The Danse begins with the figure of the Author – in the handwritten inscriptions at the front of the book he is referred to as the Moraliste – followed by the new order of dancing figures: the Pope and the Emperor, the Monk and the Usurer (with the Poor Man), the Doctor and the Lover, the Cardinal and the King, the Patriarch and the Constable, the Lawyer and the Minstrel, the Curate and the Laborer, the Archbishop and the Knight, the Bishop and the Squire, the Cordelier and the Infant, the Cleric and the Hermit the Abbott and the Bailiff, the Astrologer and the Bourgeois, the Canon and the Merchant, the Carthusian and the Sergeant, the Author (Moraliste), the Three Living and the Three Dead. It is not clear when the placard was cut up and reassembled into a book – the question of whether it was ever mounted on a wall is certainly important and worth investigating further – but it is interesting that this format was chosen over the illustrated book in the first place. The idea to display it on the wall relates to the preferred medium for t he Danse in the fifteenth century, namely mural paintings, but obviously on a smaller scale and produced using the new format of the printed and hand painted image. The existence of the placard also points to a wider usage of woodcuts in late medieval France, which circulated not only as single sheets or as illustrations in printed books, but as wall decoration that simulated paintings and tapestries as well. In its present state, each of the five folios feature differently colored margins and the figures are painted using saturated pigments, reds, greens and blues. 611 Ibid. 109. 612 According to W inn, the frontispiece was actually Vérard’s printing device – two angels holding a heart – which was initially placed at the end of the placard. It was subsequently altered through painting so that the heart was replac ed by the coat of arms of France. See W inn 109 222 Although the hierarchical order of the Danse is fractured, the woodcuts include a uniform border – blue sky adorned with gold stars – that helps to provide a sense of continuity across different scenes. Because of its unusually large size and the fact that the woodcuts are glued onto a stiff carton, it is difficult to read this book in its present state while sitting down. To be able to leaf though the pages and observe the details in the woodcuts, the viewer must adjust his or her body and stand up – an action not required to read any of the other editions of the Danse. The existence of Vérard’s hand painted copies alludes to a broader context in which the Danse macabre printed image circulated at the time. The books were not only immersed in the moralizing and religious discourses of the period, but were also appealing to an audience interested in luxurious books that could be modeled to cater to their particular tastes. The cruder aesthetic of the black and white woodcut is purposely altered in Vérard’s versions and replaced and improved upon with color applied by the hand of the skilled illuminator. The end result is a striking series of hand painted woodcuts that seem to relegate the text to a secondary function. W hen leafing through the vellum copies, the viewer cannot help but admire the opulence of color and marvel at the details of costumes and faces of the figures portrayed. It is the particular nature of vellum copies, as Michael Camille pointed out, to pretend to be what they are not, namely illuminated manuscripts. 613 It would be interesting to know whether the owners of such books actually fooled themselves into believing that they were really in possession of a handwritten and handmade manuscript and not a mechanically reproduced and then altered object. 614 Conversely, there may have been some viewers who were attracted to vellum copies precisely for their transitional and hybrid nature, as simultaneously products of the new technology and as handmade books. However, it is clear from Vérard’s copies that in the late fifteenth century there were some readers of illustrated texts who were interested in both looking and reading and some who were more attracted to the lure of the visual. 615 This is evident even from the two vellum copies of the Danse, which as I 613 Camille 272. 614 Ibid 272. 615 Ibid 272. 223 stated earlier although part of the same edition are still individualized to match the particular tastes of their initial owners. The Lambeth Palace copy was clearly produced for a client fascinated with excess of art and embellishment, hence the varying backgrounds, the differences in the color of cadavers and the exquisite shading behind the dancing figures that gives the whole procession a more naturalistic and three-dimensional feel. It could be argued that such attention to the visual details further dilutes the importance of the text – this was certainly the argument Camille made with regards to another series of vellum copies produced by Vérard. 616 In the context of the Danse, which was intended as a moralizing visual lesson regarding the futility of earthly life and material possessions (including luxurious books), the celebration of art and the visual was to some extent in opposition to the central premise of the theme. In other words, the vellum copies seem to celebrate the opulence of the visual decoration at the expense of offering a stern warning to its viewer in the manner done by Marchant in the Salutary Mirror editions. However, there is evidence in the handwritten notes made by a reader of the BN copy that the user of the book was at least interested in the text, even if we cannot deduce the exact nature of that appeal. In at least four folios of the BN copy, a reader inserted text in the margins next to the verses of the poem. For example, the words “Au Chartreux” appear in between the third and the fourth line of verses uttered by the dead figure addressing the Carthusian monk (Fig. 57). The same is done with the verses directed at the Pope (“Au Pape”) and the Hermit (“A L’hermite), while the opening line of the text aimed at the Minstrel includes the word “Vous” before the first line (as in “Vous Menestrier”). The addition of the handwritten notes suggests that the reader was interested in the dialogue aspect of the Danse and included the individual words to clarify for himself and for the future user how the living and the dead addressed one another. 616 Ibid 272. Camille discussed Vérard’s vellum copies of Le pilgrimage de l’homme made in 1511. 224 Husz and the Total Edition Extant in two copies, one at the British Library (IB. 41735) and the other at the William H. Scheide Library at Princeton (W HS 35.4.6), the Danse macabre book published by Mathias Husz on February 18, 1499 (1500), is probably the most comprehensive of the known editions. 617 It contains not only the complete version of the Danse macabre des femmes with woodcuts based on those printed in Marchant’s editions, but it also features a composite version of the men’s Danse with thirty woodcuts modeled after Vérard’s version and the ten additional male figures that Marchant included in his augmented edition from June of 1486. W e will recall that Marchant did not typically publish the men’s and women’s dances in a single volume, though it is possible, given their complementary nature, that the books were pitched together to potential customers at the time when they were sold. 618 The fact that Husz issued an edition of both men’s and women’s Danse together is therefore quite unusual and made even more unique by the fact that he combined the woodcuts from Vérard’s and Marchant’s books. Typically, the printers based their editions on a particular version of woodcuts, either Marchant’s or Vérard’s. For example, when Nicole de la Barre printed his edition of the Danse in July of 1500 (British Library, IA. 40884), he relied solely on Vérard’s version of cuts. Similarly, Nicholas Le Rouge’s edition published in Troyes in 1532 (BN, Rés V-278), did include both men’s and women’s dances but all of his woodcuts were based on Marchant’s versions. That Husz had access to both versions of woodcuts is certainly not surprising. As I discussed in the second chapter, he was one of the first printers of illustrated books in France and is often credited with helping to establish Lyons as the initial 617 During the course of my research, I only examined the copy at the British Library. My comments regarding the edition will therefore relate only to that copy. The book is printed in folio format and it contains 42 leaves, collated a-g 6. The dimensions of the book are 25cm x 29cm. 618 This is the case with an incomplete copy of the two dances from the British Library (IB. 39618), which includes works published in April of 1491 ( Danse macabre des hommes), May of 1492 (Danse macabre des femmes) and May of 1492 (The Three Living and the Three Dead), all bound in a single volume. 225 center for the popular books in vernacular. By the turn of the century he was one of the most prolific printers in France, known for at least 125 editions. Although much less is known about his collaborations with other printers and publishers than what has been discovered regarding Marchant or Vérard, Husz must have been aware of the types of illustrated books published in Paris at the time, since he was the pioneer of the industry and the world of illustrated books was still relatively small. 619 At the same time, the fact that Husz had access to copies of both versions of woodcuts suggests that by the end of the fifteenth century, the printed image of the Danse circulated in different cities in France and that both adaptations were well known. While Husz relied on Vérard’s and Marchant’s woodcuts, the images included in his edition must have been made specifically for his press since the style of figures and the overall design is quite similar to some of the other illustrated books issued by Husz’s workshop. His edition also features the image of the Printers and the Bookseller, which was probably made specifically for his book since no other precedent has been found, and it includes at least one other original woodcut, the illustration that accompanies the poem Exhortation de bien vivre y de bien mourir (folio g 1 r). The content of Husz’s edition is impressive as it includes, besides the Danse macabre and the Three Living, six additional illustrated texts, four more than typically printed in Marchant’s books. The 42-leaves edition opens with a title page that features an elaborate decorated initial placed next to the table of contents, which lists the following texts: La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes hystoriee y augmnetee de beaulx dis en latin, Le debat du corpse et de lame, La cõplainte de lame dampnee, Exhortation de bien vivre y bien mourir, La vie du mauvais antechrist, Le quinze signes and Le iugement (Fig. 62). Although not listed in the table of contents, the Three Living is included at the end of both dances as are two 619 W e do know that 1483, Husz entered into a partnership first with Petrus Ungarus (Pierre Hongre) and then with Johannes Schabeler (or Battenschne). The latter was still printing with Husz in July of 1484. From that point onwards, it appears that Husz was working alone, but receiving financial help from Jacques Buyer in 1487. In the following year, he split his profits with Ludovicus de Venetia. See Catalogue of the Books Printed in the XVth century now at the British Museum, part VIII (Trustees of the British Museum: London, 1949) 257. 226 other illustrations that Husz borrowed from Marchant. The first one features the image of Death on a Horse and the Mouth of Hell, which Marchant typically included in the Shepherd’s Calendar and in the later editions of the women’s Danse (Fig. 38). At the end of the men’s Danse, Husz paired this illustration with a poem in which the viewer – referred to as the sinner – is asked to look at his face which is disfigured in this Death (“Pecheaux regarde ta figure/ En celle mort desfiguree”). In the women’s Danse, the same woodcut of the decomposing cadaver is accompanied by two strophes taken from the Danse aux aveugles written in 1465 by Pierre Michault that begin with the following verses: “Je suis la mort de nature ennemye. Qui tous vivãs finablement consõme.” The second woodcut taken from Marchant’s books, features a black man, dressed in simple attire, standing on a rooftop and blowing on a horn (Fig. 63). The image is meant to accompany a poem entitled Cry de la Mort and it is actually featured three times in Husz’s edition: at the end of the men’s Danse (folio c 3 ), at the beginning of the women’s Danse (folio c 6 r) and once again at the end of the women’s Danse (folio f 2 r). 620 Also not listed in the table of contents is a full-page woodcut depicting the Holy Trinity that appears twice in Husz’s book, at the beginning of the men’s Danse (folio a 1 r) and at the beginning of the Danse macabre des Femmes (folio c 6 ). 621 The image shows the figure of God the Father placed in a mandorla and surrounded by three angels on either side. Below him is the figure of the dove, signifying the Holy Spirit, depicted with outstretched wings followed by the crucified Christ surrounded by the symbols of the four evangelists. For the reasons outlined above, Husz’s book can be understood as the most comprehensive and complete edition of the Danse. Going beyond the macabre subject matter, the book is best described as a type of didactic anthology on death, 620 Each time, the illustration is accompanied by different verses. At the end of the men’s Danse, the verses declare: To to to que chascun savance/ Main a main venir a la dance. At the beginning of the women’s Danse, the poem is modified to address the women dancers: Tost tost venez femmes danser / Apres les hommes incontinent. In its last appearance on folio f 2 r, the verses below the image are actually unrelated to the illustration and relate to the lines uttered by the third dead person in the Three Living poem. 621 This is the largest image in the book (19cm x 21cm) and it not accompanied by text. To my knowledge, this image has not reproduced in any sources. 227 dying and the consequences of sinful living. Husz’ editorial input is especially evident in the way the printer seemed concerned with structuring the Danse in a specific religious framework. Contrary to how the theme is depicted in other illustrated books – where regardless of the additional texts, the Danse is only paired with the macabre legend of the Three Living – Husz expanded it to include the image of the Apocalypse and the Mouth of Hell along with the figure of the horn blower calling all to join the deadly dance. The book then continues with other moralizing texts and images that focus on the aftermath of sinful living, including the Debate and the Complaint. The edition culminates with the verses of the Fifteen Signs of Judgment and the Last Judgment (Le iugement), although the latter is illustrated with the small woodcut (5cm x 7cm) showing Christ in Majesty surrounded with the symbols of the four evangelists, which denotes the Second Coming and not the Last Judgment per se. To the medieval viewer, accustomed to seeing this image on the portals of Christian churches, the woodcut would inevitably signal the moment of the Second Coming, even if the verses were not included on the page. If Vérard’s hand colored editions emphasized the captivating juxtaposition between the beautifully dressed living figures and the naked and ghastly rotting corpses, without revealing to the viewer what happens after the Danse, Husz’s edition suggests that the Danse is merely a prelude to the Last Judgment, which should be the real focus for all devout Christians. Husz’s was not the first printer to include specific references to the Judgment in the Danse book – Guillaume Le Rouge’s edition published in Troyes in 1491 included an elaborate section on the Fifteen Signs illustrated with striking images of events that precede the Judgment Day. 622 In fact, the existence of both Le Rouge’s and Husz’ editions demonstrate that in the 1490s printers were continually interested in expanding the theme of the Danse and placing it in more serious, didactic 622 The incomplete copy of this edition preserved at the Bibliothèque municipale in Bourges (Inc. 68) has been scanned and is available on their website: http://www.bvh.univ-tours.fr/Consult/index.asp?numfiche=904. The Fifteen Signs Before Doomsday or Quindecim Signa ante Judicium in Latin, was a popular text in the later Middle Ages, which lists catastrophic events expected to take place prior to the Apocalypse. I will discuss the theme in more detail later in the chapter. http://www.bvh.univ-tours.fr/Consult/index.asp?numfiche=904 228 contexts. Not only do Husz’s images show an interest in adaptation of the genre – the most obvious being the woodcut with the Printers and the Bookseller – but his edition also suggests that the idea of the Danse in the book has changed significantly by the turn of the century. If Marchant’s first edition merely replicated the mural from the Cemetery of Innocents and included no additional texts or figures, by 1500 the theme was encased in a more comprehensive context. Husz’s edition is only thematically related to the mural from the Innocents – it contains fourteen more figures in the men’s Danse (ten from Marchant’s augmented edition plus the three Printers and the Bookseller), the Danse macabre des femmes and seven other illustrated texts that were not part of the original fresco. His edition is therefore not just about the Danse, but concerns larger issues regarding the Christian faith. W e can also observe the changes in the medium of the illustrated book between Marchant’s first edition and Husz’s expanded volume. Not only does Husz’s book feature a title page with the table of contents, but each section of the book is carefully demarcated and includes the introductory headings and the concluding remarks. 623 It is also worth noting that the Danse and the Three Living are the only poems in the book in which the text and the image are of equal importance. In the latter sections of Husz’s editions, especially in the last three poems, the illustrations are scarcer, only one per text, they are noticeably smaller and they are only symbolically related to the verses. Husz had also made some changes to the structure and the appearance of the Danse. Although he included the ten additional male figures derived from Marchant, he chose not to end the men’s Danse with the figure of the Fool – as was the case with Marchant’s editions – but instead with the Hermit who was the last figure in the original mural. This is certainly in line with the more serious tone of Husz’s edition, which placed a particular emphasis on piety and redemption from sin. As noted in the previous chapters, the Hermit, who appears not only in the Danse 623 For example, the men’s Danse ends with the following text: Cy finist la danse macabre des homes avec les trois mors y les trois vifz. Et sensuit la danse macabre des femes. The colophon at the end of the book is simple and refers only to the place and the date of publication without refereeing to Husz or the location of his printing enterprise: Imprime a lyon le xviii iour de fevrier. lan mil.cccc.xixi. 229 but also in the woodcut of the Three Living and even in the last image illustrating the Debate, can be understood as presenting to the viewer the model for moral behavior or at least serving as a poignant reminder of the need to live a pious and devout life. 624 Throughout the book, the text instructs the viewer (sinner) to look at the images and contemplate their didactic message so it is no wonder that figure of the Hermit – the most pious Christian – is repeated several times in different segments of the volume. As stated earlier, the women’s Danse opens with the figure of the Trinity and the illustration that accompanies the Cry de la mort poem (Fig. 63). This is the most logical placement for the latter because the black figure standing on the rooftop is meant to summon the women to the dance. The verses included below the image directly reference the men’s Danse (“Tost, tost vennez femmes danser. Apres les hommes incontinent”), and thus present the two dances as complimentary units, which is a novel approach. The woodcuts for the women’s Danse, however, appear to be more crudely executed, as if another (lesser?) artist was commissioned to design them (Fig. 64). This is especially obvious in the way the bodies of the dead are rendered: they appear almost cartoonish and lack details that typically mark their states of decomposition. The same is true for the portrayal of women, which are missing some key elements that helped to define their moral character and position in society. In comparison to Marchant’s renditons of the women’s Danse, in Husz’s version the Queen does not wear the brocade dress, the Regent Lady is not depicted with long hair and her dress is not decorated with a gold chain, while the Knight’s Lady is missing the falcon – a symbol of her noble status. Likewise, the Wife is shown without the garland in her hair and the Chambermaid is missing keys and the moneybag that typically hang on her belt. These omissions may be merely a choice of the artist, but the roughness of the design also implies that the printer was more concerned with presenting the moralizing aspect of des Femmes than with enticing the viewer with details of costumes and accoutrements, a strategy that was prevalent in earlier editions of the poem. 624 Kinch, Imago Mortis 125. 230 A similar interest in revising the images or reducing the visual details is also seen in other illustrated poems that follow the Danse in the book. For instance, Marchant’s striking woodcut that accompanied the Complainte, which I argued is a composite image made up of several scenes of hell and punishment that appeared in other printed books of the period, is in Husz’s volume replaced by a completely new illustration (Fig. 52). 625 Focusing solely on the pain and suffering of a single sinner, Husz’s presents a figure of a naked man chained around his waist with his arms raised up in a gesture of surrender. Strapped on the belt around his waist are four long chains that are held by four devils, each portrayed differently but all equally horrifying. 626 Not only are the devils holding the man captive, they are about to strike him either with their hands or with the weapons that they hold. Although the figures are standing outdoors – the ground seems to be covered with small bushes – the background is left unadorned, which only works to heighten the dramatic app eal of the central image. W hile Marchant’s illustration of the Complaint is visually compelling as he introduces multiple scenes of hell – the large Mouth of Hell with the sinner being pushed inside, cauldrons in which the devils are boiling men and women and even the gallows in the background – there is actually no single focus in the image and no main protagonist. Husz’s illustration is exactly the opposite. It centers on a specific figure through which the horrors of hell are emphasized and the woodcut further underlines the tension of the moment by hinting at more suffering to come when the devils unleash their weapons. The insistence on a single protagonist works well with Husz’s overall strategy for the book because it forces the viewer to identify with the sinner and to experience through him the torment of hell. The other four poems that follow the Complainte stem from similar didactic and eschatological literature. The Exhortation de bien vivre y de bien mourir is taken from the Ars Moriendi (the Art of Dying) tract that, as discussed in the first chapter, offered specific instructions on preparing the soul and the body for death and dying 625 To my knowledge, this image from Husz’s book is not reproduced in any sources. 626 The woodcut is quite large (18.5cm x 14.5cm) and takes up the better part of the folio (f 6 r). One of the devils, depicted on the right, is probably a female since it is shown with sagging breasts. She holds a wooden club and sticks her tongue out at the chained man. 231 (henceforth the Exhortation). Although written in the early fifteenth century, the treatise was popular with early printers and both Marchant and Vérard published editions of it. In Husz’s book, the poem is illustrated with a single woodcut, which seems to have been made specifically for his edition (Fig. 65). Much like the Three Living, the woodcut centers on an encounter between the living and the dead, though this time it involves two women. The well-dressed lady on the left is depicted wearing the fashionable wide-sleeve gown as she picks jewelry from the open chest in front of her. She is clearly interrupted in her search – her body hunches forward and hovers over the trunk – by a female corpse that rises from the open coffin and approaches her holding a scythe. The dead woman is nude save for the elaborate henin – a cone shaped headdress – that was in style until about the 1460s, which suggests that she has been deceased for a while. The juxtaposition between the clothed and adorned body of the lady on the left and the nude and vermin infested cadaver is striking and made even more apparent by the fact that the two figures stand on either side of the large cross. Alluding to the visual vocabulary of the Three Living, the cross in the middle of the woodcut functions to separate the realm of the living and that of the dead (Fig. 24, 25 and 65). Moreover, the frame with the embellished arches and the column on the side along with the fact that the scene takes place outdoors further compares to the woodcuts of the Three Living but also to the Danse. Such layout facilitates the act of reading as it relates the disparate poems together while also providing the sense of visual unity throughout the volume. Husz’s choice to focus on women in this scene is not, I believe, coincidental. The image helps to balance the macabre themes in the book – not only are there two dances, but there are also two encounters with the dead, one directed at women and the other, the Three Living, at men. The final section of Husz’s book, which includes the poems La vie du mauvais antechrist, Les quinze signes and Le iugement, functions as a single thematic unit and addresses apocalyptic subject matter. 627 The first two poems and possibly also the text that accompanies Le iugement, relate to the popular German work Antichrist 627 W oodcuts illustrating these sections of Husz’s edition have not been reproduced in any sources I am familiar with. 232 that was written in the late fourteenth and early fifteenth century. 628 Itself derived from earlier eschatological literature, the German book was first printed in the mid fifteenth century and went through several different editions and translations. 629 In England, the work was known as The Byrth and Lyfe of the Moost False and Deceytfull Antecryst and it was first published in 1505. 630 At least partially derived from the German model, the English translation was also influenced by the French versions of the book including the Livre de Auctorites de Sainctes Docteurs: Touchant de L’Advenement et du mauvais Antechrist, published in Lyons in 1495. Vérard is also believed to have published a folio edition of L’Advenement de l’Antechrist in Paris in 1492 though no copies of this work have apparently been found. According to Andrew Gow, the Antechrist book was included, together with other didactic literature, in Vérard’s edition of L’Art de Bien Vivre et de Bien Mourir, which was published in Paris in 1493. 631 At least one other edition from Lyons is known, printed in 1499, the same year in which Husz published the Danse. W e should not forget that Guillaume Le Rouge’s edition of the Danse from 1491 included illustrations of the Fifteen Signs, a text that was often part of the Antechrist book, and thus it seems that in including these works in his book Husz was following a particular trend of the period. This is not surprising given the fact that the year 1500 – being a half-millennium - was rife in apocalyptic fever. Contemporaries believed they were living through the Last Days, apocalyptic preaching was on the increase propagated further through printed tracts such as the Antichrist, and even the Roman curia, which typically discouraged eschatological speculations, had 628 For a discussion of this work see Andrew Gow, “Jewish Shock-Troops of the Apocalypse: Antichrist and the End, 1200-1600”, Journal of Millennial Studies, I (1998): 1-19. 629 Ibid. 5. For example, there is a xylographic edition from Nuremberg printed in 1472 that includes illustrations and a typographically printed one from Strasbourg published in 1480 also with woodcuts. For a facsimile of the Strasbourg edition see Karin Boveland, Der Antichrist und Die Fünfzehn Zeichen vor dem Jüngsten Gericht. Kommentarband zum Faksimile der ersten typographischen Ausgabe eines unbekannten Straßburger Druckers, um 1480, Hamburg, 1979. 630 On the English versions of the books, see Joseph M. Ricke, “The Antichrist Vita at the End of the Middle Ages: An Edition of The Byrth and Lyfe of the Moost False and Deceytfull Antecryst”, diss., U of Rice, Houston, 1982. 631 Gow, 6 footnote 12. 233 proclaimed the year 1500 to be “a special Jubilee year, a holy year, where pilgrimage would be particularly rewarded.” 632 The woodcut that illustrates La vie du mauvais antechrist in Husz volume is the last large image in the book (19cm x 13.8cm) (henceforth Antechrist). In the upper register, it portrays the Judging Christ surrounded by angles blowing horns and signaling the end of time. Below is the figure of St. John the Evangelist shown writing the Book of Revelation on a long scroll. To his left is an eagle, a symbol of St. John in Christian imagery. That Husz’s illustration makes reference to St. John in this context is, of course, not surprising. From the time of the Church Fathers, Christian theology and Biblical exegesis have interpreted the Beast of Revelation 13 as the source of the Antechrist legend. 633 In the woodcut, St. John looks towards the approaching angel holding a large book, while the seven-headed dragon, symbolizing the Antechrist, is depicted on the opposite side of the image. Although the text of Le quinze signes lists the events that will unfold on earth prior to the end of times, including trees and plants sweating blood, earthquakes toppling buildings and the bones of dead men rising, the work is illustrated with a woodcut portraying an indoor sermon. 634 The final image in the book is the woodcut that accompanies the text of Le iugement, which, as stated earlier, depicts Christ in Majesty surrounded by the symbols of the four evangelists. The woodcut marks the end of time and the moment when the dead will rise again in order to be judged. As such, it works well in conjunction with the opening image of the book – the large woodcut depicting the Trinity or the Throne of Mercy – in which Christ is shown crucified, sacrificing himself for the sins of the humankind. Husz’s edition exemplifies a group of the Danse books published from the 1490s onward that reveal a growing interest in framing the theme in strict religious 632 Andrew Cunningham and Ole Peter Grell, The Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Religion, War, Famine and Death in Reformation Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge UP), 1. In fact, the fascination and the fear of the Apocalypse and the coming of the Antichrist was so pronounced in this period that the Fifth Lateran Council held in 1513 actually had to forbid preaching about such topics. 633 Gow 1. 634 In the fragmentary edition by Guillaume Le Rouge, these events are actually illustrated by woodcuts. 234 terms. The trend continued into the sixteenth century with editions published in Troyes by Nicholas le Rouge (p. 1531) and in Lyons by Pierre de Sainctelucie (p. 1555) that followed the model established by Husz. At the same time, Husz’s work is also indicative of the continual practice of modifying the Danse and imbuing it with new texts and images. Chief among these is the Printers because it was such a departure from the established model (Fig. 10). W hile Marchant did invent the new male figures and the women’s series, his woodcuts, novel as they may have been, nevertheless replicated the structure established by his first edition and by extension the mural from the Innocents. On the other hand, Husz’s woodcut, which places Death in specific interior spaces, shifts the theme into a new direction and reveals an interest in rethinking the Danse in the medium of illustrated books before the sixteenth century. This is particularly interesting in relation to Holbein’s Simulachres. First published in Lyons in 1538 by the brothers Trechsel, the series is generally credited, even by scholars of macabre art, as the work that transformed and eventually completely replaced the medieval concept of the Danse (Figs. 16 and 17). 635 Undoubtedly, Holbein’s work is of incredible importance – artistically, it is far superior than any edition of the Danse and it offers radically new ways of representing the genre. However, I would argue that while different from the medieval Danse, Holbein’s series is not as divergent from the illustrated books, such as the one published by Husz, as previously assumed. Following the trend of augmenting the Danse by insisting on a particular Christian narrative that defines Death – especially its origin and its consequence – Holbein expanded the framework of his series and began with Genesis and the Creation of All Things. 636 The book then follows with Adam and Eve in Paradise, The Expulsion, a crucial moment in which Death entered the world, portrayed by Holbein with the skeleton holding a string instrument and 635 Both Gertsman and Kinch, the authors of the newest and most compelling studies on the Danse in English, dedicate significant space in their works to Holbein and his series. For a discussion of the innovative aspects of Holbein’s series, see especially Gertsman, The Dance of Death 169-180. 636 As stated in the previous chapters, it is possible that in designing the Simulachres Holbein was influenced by the Mors poem, which also begins with Adam and Eve and the Original Sin. 235 standing next to Adam, and Adam Tilling the Soil. Like Husz, Holbein ends the book with an image of the Last Judgment followed by the Escutcheon of Death, which portrays Death through emblematic coat of arms and an hourglass. As Gertsman argues, what Holbein depicts is “a comprehensive view of the history of the humankind, from Creation through the Last Judgment, with the Dance of Death as a necessary and repeating episode in this chain of events.” 637 Placed at the beginning and the end of the book, the Fall and the Last Judgment in Holbein’s series denote the beginning and the end of time, while the rest of the woodcuts are set between these two events in order to demonstrate the progress of death in the mortal world. 638 This is certainly a more comprehensive account of the role of Death in Christian terms than what we have seen in Husz’s volume, but the point is that the interest in expanding the religious framework of the Danse had already begun with the illustrated books a few decades before Holbein designed his series. The same can be said about Husz’s innovative woodcut of the Printers and the Bookseller (Fig. 10). Despite the technical advances of Holbein’s Simulachres, there is not much difference between the composition of Husz’s woodcut and the Holbein’s series. Both works relocate the Danse from an unspecified exterior location to a particular place: a printing workshop, a busy harbor or a nun’s room (Figs. 10, 16 and 17). Both do away with the dance and depict figures caught by Death as they are completing their everyday activities: a bookseller seized by Death while working in his shop in Husz or a Merchant captured as he is unloading his packages from a ship docked in a harbor in Holbein. Finally, both Husz and Holbein created autonomous images that are able to function outside of the series in which they are placed. The Printers is part of the Danse, but it is also temporally and spatially divorced from it because the figures do not occupy the same environment as the rest of the dancers. Holbein’s engravings are even more fundamentally disconnected from one another because each character is structured within his or her uniquely composed scenes. In Holbein’s work, Death is no longer merely a dead companion that pulls the living into the dance, but Death personified – a singular, 637 Gertsman, The Dance of Death 170. 638 Ibid. 172. 236 frightening and omnipresent threat. W hat is different between Husz’s image and Holbein’s series is that the latter splits the image from the text – the verses are biblical and not directly related to the prints – and the Simulachres is not nearly as didactic as the Danse and thus even more prone to diverse interpretations as studies by Natalie Zemon Davis and Peter Parshall have shown. 639 According to Gertsman, the biblical verses in Holbein’s series are aimed at the viewer as a form of commentary that elucidates the images. 640 The cheeky dialogue between the main protagonists – the living and the dead and by extension the image and the viewer – that formed the core of the Danse is thus removed from this work. As a result, the complex interplay between reading, looking, and interpreting the Danse – that was essential to the medieval experience of the theme – is replaced by a different set of expectations, which detached the viewer from the image and turned him into an observer rather than an active participant. 641 The Viewer in the Book In 1531 the printer Nicolas Le Rouge published an edition of the Grant danse macabre des hõmes y des femes in the city of Troyes (BN, Rés.- V-278). In its present state, the book is bound with Le Rouge’s edition of the Shepherd’s Calendar, which was also published in 1531. It is unlikely, however, that the works were published as a single edition – each book features its own title page and colophons at the end – but it is possible that the two books were owned by the same person and bound together in one volume shortly after they were purchased. Even a provisional glance at Le Rouge’s title page for the Danse reveals how much the medium of illustrated book has developed in the forty-six years since the publication of Marchant’s first edition in 1485 (Fig. 66). W hile Marchant’s book featured no title page, not even the printer’s mark, Le Rouge’s book presents a title 639 See Zemon Davis, “Holbein’s Pictures of Death” and Parshall, “Hans Holbein’s Pictures of Death.” 640 Gertsman 179. 641 Ibid. 179. 237 page that in many ways resembles the covers of modern-day publications. Using the technique of printing with red and black ink, Le Rouge’s title page incorporates both text and image. Commencing with the decorated initial “L” in the upper left corner of the page, the title of the book, La grant danse macabre des hõmes y des femes hystoriee y augmetee de beaulx ditz en latin, is printed in largest letters. Below it is a table of contents – again, printed in interchanging red and black ink – that includes six additional illustrated texts in the following order: Le debat du corps et de l’ame, La complaincte de lame damnee, Exhortation de bien vivre et bien mourir, La vie du mauvais antechrist, Les quinze signes and Le iugement. 642 In the middle of the page is the woodcut depicting the Four Dead Musicians, which open the Danse, and below it in red ink – to increase its advertising appeal, no doubt – is the publishing information and the address of Le Rouge’s printing enterprise. 643 As is evident from the title page, the book includes both men’s and women’s dances as well as the same additional works that were featured in Husz’s volume, which suggests that by the 1530s the expanded version of the Danse became the norm. It is important to note, however, that Le Rouge’s book is based entirely on Marchant version of woodcuts and does not include Husz’s images of the Printers and the Bookseller or the illustration that accompanies the Exhortation poem. Nicholas came from the long line of printers and engravers of the Le Rouge family, together with Pierre and Guillaume, which originated in the town of Chablis but eventually moved their enterprise to Troyes in the Champagne region. 644 In the fifteenth century, Troyes became noted for its paper making mills – the industry that eventually facilitated the spread of printing and publishing in the city. Nicholas seems to have been focused predominately on publishing illustrated books – he printed at least five editions of the Danse (1501, 1510, 1515, 1528 and 1531) – 642 Much like Husz’s volume, Le Rouge’s edition includes the Three Living after both dances and the woodcuts that show the Apocalypse and the Mouth of Hell and the Cry de Mort, though these works are not listed in the table of contents. 643 The text reads: Imprime a Troyes par Nicholas Le Rouge demourant en la grãt rue a lenseigne Sainct Iehan levangeliste Au presla belle croix. 644 See also Monceaux, Les Le Rouge de Chablis. 238 along with Books of Hours and the Shepherd’s Calendar. 645 According to Marie- Dominique Leclerc, it was probably one of the editions of the Danse published by Nicholas Le Rouge that was used as the model for the fresco painting at La Ferté- Loupière in Yonne, Burgundy made in the sixteenth century. 646 In historical records, Le Rouge’s name appears in relation to the spread of Calvinism in the region though more research is needed to understand exactly how this affected his printing practices, especially his illustrated books. In the registers of the bishop’s court in Troyes in the early 1520s, the printer was accused of repeated offence for “producing ‘superstitious’ literature contrary to the Catholic faith”, specifically prayers in Latin and French. 647 The material left unsold was burned and Nicholas was fined. It appears that the printer was aware of the risks he was taking in producing the ‘superstitious’ work since he was warned before, but given the fact that most of his books were didactic in nature and that his printer’s device contained the motto “Mon coeur à Dieu”, religion was obviously important to him and he was willing to proceeded despite the obvious objections from the official church. 648 One of the most interesting aspects of the preserved copy of Le Rouge’s 1531 edition of the Danse are marks left by the viewer, which may actually reflect the religious tensions of the period. In a number of woodcuts of the men’s Danse, the faces of the dead are rubbed off or cut out, a practice seen even in the title page in which the third cadaver’s face is partially damaged (Figs. 66 and 67). The same 645 For a list of books printed by Nicolas, see the USTC. 646 Leclerc, Danser avec la Mort 26. 647 Penny Roberts, A City in Conflict: Troyes During the French Wars of Religion (Manchester: Manchester UP, 1996) 33. 648 Ibid. 33. According to Roberts, Le Rouge admitted to selling two copies of the contested material to friars minor, most likely from the convent of the Cordeliers, and it is exactly from within the religious orders in Troyes that the first calls for reform were issued. That Calvinism spread to Troyes early on is not surprising. The city was located on route from Paris to Geneva and it had ties with Meaux, which was the center of religious reforms in France. W hen it began to spread, Calvinist thought first attracted individuals working in the printing and textile industry in the city, which would explain Le Rouge’s involvement in the matter. On this issue see also Mark W . Konnert, Local Politics in the French Wars of Religion: The Towns of Champagne, the Duc de Guise, and the Catholic League, 1560-1595 (Aldershot: Ashgate, 2006) especially pages 45-49. 239 interest in revising the image by cutting its parts – what Areford coins “visual subtractions” – is also seen in the woodcut of the black figure blowing the horn that follows the men’s Danse. 649 Illustrating the poem Dictz des trespassez, the woodcut shows the same figure we have seen in Marchant’s and Husz’s editions, but this time completely missing his head, which was removed by the viewer. W e will recall that in its present state this copy of the Danse is bound with Le Rouge’s edition of the Shepherd’s Calendar and it is worth noting that the similar marks are also present in that book, suggesting that a single viewer was involved in revising the images. For example, the woodcut with the black figure also appears in the Shepherd’s Calendar and in this book his entire body is damaged and missing. 650 Moreover, much like the dead in the Danse, the faces of the devils in the Shepherd’s Calendar are cut out or erased and eventually patched up by plain pieces of paper (Fig. 68). One example is especially striking as it demonstrates both the viewer’s interest in removing aspects of the image, but also adding to it by including specific details. In the section of the Shepherd’s Calendar that illustrates the pains of Hell, the face of the devil that stands at the rim of the cauldron and boils sinners is completely cut out and replaced by blank paper (Fig. 69). Typically, this devil looks out at the viewer while pressing a pitchfork into the cauldron and the boiling bodies within. In Le Rouge’s work, however, he is now missing the face, but the viewer added a pom-pom to each of his horns so that it looks as if the devil is wearing the Fool’s hat (Fig. 70). This is not just an example of revising the image by subtracting from it certain elements, but actually an attempt to reformulate the entire implication of the work. By effacing the devil and transforming him into the Fool, the viewer was ridiculing the whole portrayal of Hell in Le Rouge’s work, rendering it inconsequential. Such practice of modifying the printed image was not uncommon and it was, as Areford has shown, “just another way to interpret the image and reconfigure it to 649 Areford 69. 650 The same woodcut appears one other time, just before the Danse macabre des femmes, and this is the only instance in which the image is left intact. 240 fulfill a viewer’s needs.” 651 In the context of Le Rouge’s book, the viewer was clearly equating the dead with devils and seeing them in negative terms since they were both effaced and removed from the work. This may be prompted by the fear – the notion that even looking at such faces is intrinsically dangerous – or by that viewer’s particular religious and sectarian beliefs. In any case, the need to eradicate death from the images is especially curious given the fact that in the macabre discourse, the dead, though certainly threatening, do not signify devils and wickedness, but the essential aspects of the human condition, namely transience and mortality. In the book, the viewer was essentially denying Death the power to speak and interact with the living, which has been the pivotal aspect of the Danse from the beginning. The same can be said about the need to efface the black figure from Le Rouge’s work. To an extent, he is meant to personify Death – in Le Rouge’s book, the words “Message de la Mort” are actually included in the woodcut – and his role is to summon the dancers/sinners to their final procession (Fig. 71). Actually, he functions in much the same way as the angels who blow trumpets or horns in the depictions of the Last Judgment, announcing the end of time, except that he leads the dying and declares the end of the physical life. It is possible, especially given the religious turmoil of the period in which the books were published, that the viewer was uncomfortable with the overt insistence on sin and corporeal punishment that both works exude and hence revised the woodcuts to fit his own personal interest. 652 An edition of the Danse published by an anonymous printer (BN, Rés-Ye-331) also features interesting additions made by the viewer. Printed in quarto format and published in Geneva in 1503, the book contains only the Danse macabre des hommes and the Three Living, all based on Vérard’s version of woodcuts. 653 However, this is a much simpler version of the Danse than Vérard’s lavish volumes. The woodcuts are small and take up just the top part of the page, the rest being filled 651 Areford 71. 652 Not all examples of the viewer’s interaction with the woodcuts in the volume involve subtraction. In at least one example, the woodcut showing the Halberdier (in the book, he is referred Laventurier) and the Fool, the viewer added decoration to the costumes of the two figures in a playful manner. 653 The book is smaller than earlier editions of the Danse, measuring 11.5cm x 17.5cm. The woodcuts are also significantly smaller, 8.5cm x 6cm. 241 with text. None of the images feature the arches and columns that typically frame the Danse and each woodcut portrays a single pair of dancing figures (Fig. 72). Moreover, the images are outlined by a thick, black border and the figures seem to occupy different spaces: an exterior location, an interior paved with checkered or diamond shaped tiles (Figs. 72 and 73). Although the cuts are made based on Vérard’s images, the edition features thirty-four living figures, five of which (the Papal Legate, the Duke, the School Master, the Promoter and the Jailer) are borrowed from Marchant’s augmented version. However, the woodcuts used to portray these figures are not Marchant’s; instead they are merely repeats of the same images that are already featured in the book. 654 The work does not include a title page – it begins with the figure of the Author that is typically shown at the end of the Danse – and ends with a simple colophon that reads: “Cy fine la dace macabre avecques les ditz des troys mors et de troys vifz. Imprime a genesve lan Mil. ccccc. iii.” 655 Of particular interest for the present discussion is the last page of the book that depicts the repeated image of the Author seated in front of the Dead King, the only figure who has actually died in the Danse (Fig. 74). In the context of the Danse, the last scene can be difficult to interpret. Is the prostrated body of cadaver shown next to the toppled crown a reference to the figure of the King depicted at the beginning of the procession, who wears a crown, or is it meant to represent the king of the dead in a metaphorical sense? The verses that accompany the figure seem to allude that the former is true (“Si ay je este roy couronnez”) yet remain fairly vague and address the viewer of the image and not the figure of the Author: Vous: qui en ceste portraiture Veez danser estas divers Pensez que humainne nature: 654 For example, the woodcut depicting the Cardinal is also used to portray the Papal Legate. Likewise, the woodcut for the Lawyer also stands for the Promoter and the figure of the Sergeant becomes the Jailer in the latter part of the book. 655 It is also worth noting that the second page of the book includes the four strophes of the verses delivered by the Four Dead Musicians, though they are not illustrated. It appears that by the early sixteenth century, elements added by Marchant in his augmented edition were becoming accepted as the norm. 242 Ce nest fors que viande a vers Je le monstre qui gys envers Moy qui estoys roy couronne Telz seres vous bons et pervers Tous estas sont a vers dõnes. 656 Portrayed on the right hand side of the image, the Author holds one end of a large banderole, the other tip being held by an angel in the top left corner. As in the opening page, the banderole was left blank by the printer, but in the final image the viewer added several lines of text in French (Fig. 75). 657 According to Areford, it was not uncommon for early printers to leave images of banderols, scrolls or even open books empty and they were almost certainly meant to be inscribed by the users, facilitating the interactive relation between the book and its viewer. 658 Although only parts of the inscription from the banderole are legible, the viewer was clearly relating the image of the Author with the Dead King to his own historical context. Containing the words “…le roy Charles Roy de France est…” the writing on the banderole may be a reference to King Charles VIII who died a few years before the book was printed, in April of 1498. 659 On the other hand, if the banderole was inscribed later in the sixteenth century, it could also relate to Charles IX (d. 1574), who was involved 656 The verses are transcribed from Marchant’s edition of the Danse printed in Paris between September 1485 and June of 1486 (BN Rés.-Ye-88). It should be pointed out that this is the only example in the Danse in which there is no dialogue featured between the two protagonists. As stated, the Dead King addresses the viewer and not the Author. Likewise, the Author offers a lengthy didactic summary of the usefulness of thinking about death and living a pious life. 657 In most other editions of the Danse the banderole features printed text in Latin. 658 Areford 69. 659 I wish to thank Professors Carol Knicely and Chantal Phan for their help in transcribing the inscriptions on the banderole. Charles died young, at the age of 28. His death was deemed an accident – he hit his head on a lintel of a door – though some factions within the French court believed that he was murdered. Charles left no heirs and was succeeded by Louis XII from the Orléans cadet branch of the Valois dynasty. 243 in the French W ars of Religion. 660 However, regardless of which King Charles the inscription refers to – further research may determine this more precisely and it is certainly a crucial point – the fact that the writing relates the image to a specific historical figure and not to a larger religious doctrine is significant. Despite its didactic origin, the Danse, as discussed in the earlier chapters, was often understood as a poignant political allegory. 661 This is true as much for the painted examples – the lost mural from the Innocents being perhaps the best and the most researched case – but also apparently for the illustrated books. Contrary to the argument advanced by Kinch and others according to which the viewer could not escape the doctrinally rigid framework of the books and was thus driven solely “by individual devotional concerns”, the copy of the Geneva edition alludes to the possibility that the users of the books could understand the Danse as a didactic in multiple terms. 662 Even the copy of Husz’s edition at the British Library contains marks of the reader. On the page that features the Author with the Dead King at the end of the men’s Danse (folio c 1 r), the viewer added lines on the Author’s hat and collar, which mimic the shading used in the woodcuts throughout the volume. The Author’s chair is also embellished with further additions to the carving on the side. Moreover, in the section on the Debate, on folio f 4 r, the margins are filled with inscriptions made by the reader. In the left margin are individual letters, as if someone was practicing writing. In the bottom are two annotations, one in French and the other, seemingly in Dutch. The French inscription reads: “Plus penser que dire”, while the verses in Dutch begin with: “Kinderen die niet en willen leeren….” The former was used in heraldic devices, including the coat of arms for the town of Bar-le-Duc, located in the 660 Nothing is known about the provenance of the work, which would perhaps help to ‘date’ the inscription. 661 For example, in an article discussing the political contexts surrounding the creation of the mural from the Innocents, I argued that the figure of the Dead King almost certainly took on a political dimension. At the time the mural was painted, in 1424-5, the political situation in France was dire. Both King Charles VI and his successor, the English King Henry V died three years earlier leaving the Dauphin (a bastard child of Charles VII) to battle with the English for the rights to the Fr ench Crown. See Dujakovic, “The Dance of Death, the Dance of Life” 206-232 662 Kinch, “The Danse Macabre” 186. 244 Meuse region of Lorraine in northeastern France. The French motto may thus be a reference to a heraldic device of a family that owned the book – it was common to mark ownership of manuscripts and early printed books by adding the coat of arms – or an allusion to the town in which the owner lived. On the other hand, the Dutch verses are more difficult to ascertain and further research into the provenance of the book is needed before they can be explained. The examples listed above are by no means the only copies of the Danse that include reader’s marks. I have already discussed Vérard’s vellum copy from the BN that contains notes made by the viewer, but there are other cases as well. An incomplete copy of the Danse preserved at the British Library (IA. 40884), published on July 23, 1500 in Paris by Nicole de la Barre, is interesting because it contains printed pages as well as folios that are hand painted and hand written, some perhaps in the hands of the viewer. 663 In addition, a copy of Marchant’s 1499 edition of the Shepherdesses’ Calendar (British Library, IB. 39718), which features the Danse macabre des femmes in the last section of the book, is heavily annotated on many pages by the hand of different users. 664 These copies point to the different ways in which the viewer was involved with the book and reveal layers of reception – some historical or political, others defiant – that complicate the singular way in which the illustrated books and their audience have been discussed in the past. Editions of the Danse form a link between between the traditional mural examples and the sixteenth century reiterations of the theme, most notably Holbein’s printed series. Despite being the products of mechanical reproduction, each edition is unique and reveals specific concerns in representing the Danse on the part of the printer or publisher. W hile the first edition replicated the mural from the Innocents and translated it into the medium of print, subsequent editions sought to expand the traditional framework of the Danse by including new figures or additional didactic and eschatological texts and thus distanced the illustrated book from the original painted model out of which it emerged. More then being mere distributors of the 663 This edition is similar to the Geneva copy by the anonymous printer (BN, Rés-Ye- 331), though it contains more images. 664 For example, on the back of the title page is a long paragraph in Latin written by the reader that begins with the following words: “Omnibus Christi fidelibus.” 245 printed books, printers and publishers actually had a pivotal role in articulating specific aspects of the Danse through their selection of content and format in the works they produced. The diversity of formats in which the books circulated – black and white folios, printed and hand painted vellum copies and even a placard – allude to the transitional nature of bookmaking in the late fifteenth century while also reflecting the varied tastes of readers in the period. W hile some may have been interested in fulfilling Marchant’s vision of the Danse as the Salutary Mirror and viewed the book as a self-help guide in their quest for salvation, there were also others who were drawn to the theme for entirely different purposes. The medium reduced the audience of the Danse from a community at large to a single viewer exploring the book in private and facing Death alone. 246 CHAPTER SIX Conclusion On March 15, 1555, Pierre de Sainte Lucie (Sainctelucie) published an edition of the Danse in Lyons. 665 Titled La grand danse macabre des homes et des femmes, the 40-folio book was printed on paper and published in quarto format. De Sainte Lucie’s book was almost certainly modeled after Husz’s edition of the Danse as it contains the same sections and many of the same woodcuts, including a version of the Printers (Fig. 76). Continuing with the tradition of modifying the printed image of the Danse, de Sainte Lucie’s woodcut is a simplified adaptation of Husz’s initial image (Figs. 10 and 76). 666 Instead of an elaborate frame with two arches and a column portrayed in Husz’s woodcut, de Sainte Lucie’s image features only part of a carved arch in the upper left corner. W hile Husz’s version includes three cadavers that take away the Printers and the Bookseller, de Sainte Lucie’s woodcut depicts a single figure of Death placed in the middle of the image. Most crucially, de Sainte Lucie’s version revises Husz’s image by eliminating the space of the bookstore and the figure of the Bookseller, focusing instead only on the Compositor, shown on the left in front of a slanted type case, and the two Printers standing on either side of the printing press. 665 A sole copy of this edition is preserved at the British Library (C.47.h.12). The book measures 18.5 x 26.5cm. 666 The transcribed title of de Sainte Lucie’s edition is: La grand danse macabre des homes des femes hystoriee et augmentee de beaulx dictz en Latin. Le debat du corps y de lame. La complaincte de lame damnee. Exhortation de bien vivre y bien mourir. La vie du mauvais Antechrist. Les quinze signes. Le iugement. The edition features an elaborate title page, with the names of the illustrated poems printed in interchanging red and black ink and the woodcut showing the image of the Four Dead Musicians. Below the illustration, printed in red ink, is the information regarding the de Sainte Lucie’s workshop in Lyons: On les vend a Lion sur le Rosne / par Pierre de Sainctelucte dict le Prince / Imprimeur pres nostre Dame de Confort. 247 Like Husz before him, in order to adapt the image, de Sainte Lucie had to hire an artist to design the woodcut – likely the same individual who worked on the other illustrations in the book, which are characterized by a cruder aesthetic – as well as a writer to adjust the verses of the accompanying poem. W hile the text printed below Husz’s woodcut featured dialogues between Death and the Printers, as a group, and Death and the Bookseller, de Sainte Lucie’s version focuses instead on the conversation between Death and the Compositor and Death and the Printers. The changes made to the verses in de Sainte Lucie’s version are subtle, only several lines are altered; yet the implications of the revised text and image are indicative of the different status of the printing industry by the mid-sixteenth century. As I argued in previous chapters, Husz’s Printers captures the process of printing and functions as an advertisement that showcases the new tec hnology and the whole enterprise of making and selling books. W hile it conveys certain features typical of the Danse, the playful dialogue between the living and the dead or the way the image implicates the viewer, for example, it also diverges from the conventional model of representing the theme by emphasizing the scope of the printing and bookselling vocations. Husz’s woodcut portrays the printers in a unique manner, as a group of workers that are involved in and responsible for a particular step in the printing process, while the accompanying verses highlight the range and importance of their work. W hen Death approaches them to join the dance, the printers reply by listing their accomplishments and suggesting that they aim to please the diverse demands of the people for books (Imprime avons tous les cours / De la saincte theologie loix decret y poeterie / Par nostre art plusieurs sont grans clers / Relevee en est clergie / Les vouloirs des gens sont divers). Moreover, by depicting two distinct spaces, the printing workshop and the bookstore, Husz’s image underlines the integral link between printers and booksellers that characterized the beginnings of the industry in France. Accomplished bookseller-publishers, like Vérard or Petit, who traded equally in printed books and manuscripts and encouraged collaborative practices between scribal and printing workshops were, as I argued, essential for the success of many printing establishments, especially those that focused on the production of illustrated works. 248 However, in de Sainte Lucie’s version of the Printers the interest in promoting the industry appears more subdued. Not only is the figure of the Bookseller eliminated from the image, thus dissipating the fundamental link between the two professions, but the verses, especially those assigned to the Compositor, seem more limiting in scope. Their focus is not so much on the promotion of the printing profession, as on the specific details of the Compositor’s work that Death strips away. For instance, Death asks him to let go of letters and fonts (Lettres y capses fault laisse), while in turn the Compositor complains that he will miss the noise of the printing press (Laisser le bruyur de la presse) and the forme, which he used to compose the lines of text (Ma forme fault que la laisse). Perhaps because by the mid-sixteenth century the technology of printing was no longer the novelty it was during Husz’s career, de Sainte Lucie did not deem it necessary to promote the profession so heartily; yet the dialogue between Death and the Compositor is closer in style to the verses that accompanied other living figures in the Danse, all of which lament the loss of what is unique to their particular status or occupation. Although, as de Sainte Lucie’s edition demonstrates, the interest in the printed image of the Danse continued well into the sixteenth century, the popularity of the books reached their pinnacle in the early years of printing in France, c.1480- 1510s. The ambiguous nature of the Danse, which could be understood both as a stern moralizing lesson or a satirical allegory that ridicules social hierarchies, and the theme’s propensity for adaptation must have been the main reasons that early printers were drawn to the subject matter. Actually, I would argue that the Danse perfectly complemented or even encouraged the entrepreneurial nature of the early printing industry because it allowed for augmentations, adaptations and constant experiments with the theme. In the context of the early printing industry when publishing illustrated books was a costly and risky venture, editions of the Danse prompted collaborations between printers, publishers, illuminators and booksellers, which further popularized the theme and helped to secure the success of the publications. The potential for alterations of the Danse in the medium of print were almost limitless. The printer could augment the dancing procession by adding new living 249 protagonists, he could extend the public’s interest in the theme by publishing a volume dedicated solely to women or he could simply issue an edition in a different language and thus appeal to a particular group of readers. Furthermore, the adaptability of the theme helped to place the printed image of the Danse in editions of varying contents and mediums, from Marchant’s Salutary Mirror books and Vérard’s hand-pained vellum copies to Vostre’s and Pigouchet’s printed Books of Hours where it served as border illustrations. The composite nature of the printed editions of the Danse, particularly those published in the 1490s in which verses and images are assembled from a selection of diverse sources, also meant that a printer had to supply the editing context and establish the narrative framework for each book, requirements that further expanded and complicated the scope of the printing profession. The Danse was an ideally suited theme for illustrated books because its composition depended equally on the visual and the textual elements and required an active participation on the part of the viewer in the processes of looking and reading. Editions of the Danse emphasize the integral link between the text and the image in the physical layout of their pages. In Marchant’s editions, the Dance of Death woodcuts are situated between shorter columns of text above and longer ones below, which delegates equal amount of space on the page to both verses and illustrations (Figs. 29 and 30). Such connection between text and image is present even in the sections of the book that typically feature fewer illustrations. For instance, in the Debat, which usually includes one large woodcut at the beginning of the poem and several smaller ones scattered throughout the text, the elongated rectangular shape of the smaller woodcuts actually mimics the layout of verses on the page (Fig. 51). Emerging out of scribal culture and still heavily influenced by it, the fifteenth- century illustrated book was a unique product of the transitional period. Editions of the Danse, but also of the Shepherd’s Calendar and other illustrated texts, were developed by printers who, attracted to the possibility of expanding the market for their books, established connections with artists, illuminators and woodcutters and perfected the technique of printing with woodcuts. Mainly published in vernacular, 250 the illustrated books produced until c. 1530s were characterized by woodcuts that were meant to elucidate and complement the text. 667 However, as Chrisman has shown, the interest in illustrated books was not maintained throught the sixteenth century. 668 Although illustrated books did not disappear after the 1530s – editions of the Shepherd’s Calendar were printed throughout the sixteenth century, for example – the use of illustrations in the printed books did decrease significantly. Perhaps prompted by the rise in literacy, images were no longer used in combination with the text, but mainly as embellishments that were only symbolically linked to the main theme of the book. 669 As a result, the quality of illustrations lessened and they were reduced in size taking much less space on the page than the text. Some of the changes that marked the illustrated books in the sixteenth century are evident in de Sainte Lucie’s woodcut (Fig. 76). W hile his edition of the Danse has the full complement of texts as Husz’s earlier version, the production is less elaborate, especially in the quality of the images. Defined by a simplified, almost cartoonish aesthetic, de Sainte Lucie’s Printers lacks the details present in Husz’s rendition (Figs.10 and 76). Not only is the space of the bookstore eliminated from de Sainte Lucie’s illustration, but the portrayal of the three dimensional perspective is also less believable. Even though the tiled floor suggests that the figures occupy an interior space – the rest of the dancers in de Sainte Lucie’s Danse are all placed outdoors – the background is left blank and no other indication is given of the specificities of the place. De Sainte Lucie’s edition of the Danse is indicative of the dwindling interest in the type of illustrated book that was popular in France in the early years of printing. Curiously, at the time when the presence of illustrations was diminishing in printed books, from the early sixteenth century onward, a number of artists, many of them professional painters, were increasingly turning to the medium of print as the means to propagate their work. For the present study, the work of Holbein is particularly important (Fig.16 and 17). His Simulachres series was clearly influenced by the late- 667 Chrisman 106. 668 Ibid. 106. 669 Ibid. 106. 251 medieval theme of the Danse, and perhaps even specific editions of the printed books; yet he completely transformed the subject matter by producing images that focus on individual encounters with Death. It could be argued that Holbein’s Simulachres is not really an example of an illustrated book per se, but a series of independed, highly sophisticated images that are linked by a common theme. The complex interplay between image and text that characterized the early editions of the Danse is missing from Holbein’s renditions in which the text is derived from the Bible and is only symbolically linked to the images. In contrast, the Danse macabre printed books produced at the end of the fifteenth century depended on the integration of text and image and encouraged the reader to engage in simultaneous acts or reading and looking (Figs. 29 and 30). The inherent adaptability of the Danse attracted the early printers to theme creating a unique match of death and print, one that, ironically, brought life to the new industry. 252 FIGURES Figure 1. The Author, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure-et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 253 Figure 2. The Pope and the Emperor, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure- et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 254 Figure 3. The Peasant and the Infant, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure- et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 255 Figure 4. The King, the Patriarch, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure-et- Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 256 Figure 5. The Burgher, the Curate and the Doctor, La danse macabre, Meslay-le- Grenet (Eure-et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 257 Figure 6. The Three Dead, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure-et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 258 Figure 7. The Three Living, La danse macabre, Meslay-le-Grenet (Eure-et-Loire), fresco, c.1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 259 Figure 8. The Cardinal and the King, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés. Ye. 189. 260 Figure 9. Four Dead Musicians, La Grant danse macabre des hommes y des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.-V-278. 261 Figure 10. The Printers and the Bookseller, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735. 262 Figure 11. The King, La danse macabre, illuminated manuscript, c.1500, Bibliothèque nationale, Ms. fr. 995, folio 3. 263 Figure 12. La danse macabre, La Ferté-Loupière, Yonne (Burgundy), fresco, c. 1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 264 Figure 13. Horae Beatae Virgini Mariae, printed Book of Hours with the Danse macabe marginal decoration in the Office of the Dead section of the book, published by Simon Vostre, c. 1500, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Arsenal, 4-T-949. 265 Figure 14. The Legate and the Duke, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735. 266 Figure 15. The Carthusian and the Sergeant, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735. 267 Figure 16. The Nun, Les simulachres et historiees faces de la mort, designed by Hans Holbein, Lyons, 1538, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.-Z-1990. 268 Figure 17. The Merchant, Les simulachres et historiees faces de la mort, designed by Hans Holbein, Lyons, 1538, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.-Z-1990. 269 Figure 18. The Author, La danse macabre, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, between September 1486 and June 1486, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.-Ye-88. 270 Figure 19. The Author with the Dead King, La danse macabre, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, between September 1486 and June 1486, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.-Ye-88. 271 Figure 20. Anonymous, The Cemetery and the Church of the Holy Innocents, c. 1570, oil on wood, Musée Carnavalet, Paris. Figure 20 has been removed due to copyright restrictions. It showed the view of the Cemetery and the Church of the Holy Innocents in Paris. The image can be viewed at: http://www.gettyimages.ca/detail/news-photo/cemetery-and-church-of-the- innocents-flemish-school-from-news-photo/463907291?Language=en-GB 272 Figure 21. The Abbot and the Bailiff, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 279. 273 Figure 22. The Author, The Pope and the Emperor, the Monk and the Usurer, the Doctor and the Lover, La danse macabre, printed by Pierre Le Rouge for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1491-92, originally printed as a placard and hand painted, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.-Te-8. 274 Figure 23. The Archbishop and the Knight, the Bishop and the Squire, the Franciscan and the Infant, the Cleric and the Hermit, La danse macabre, printed by Pierre Le Rouge for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1491-92, originally printed as a placard and hand painted, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.-Te-8. 275 Figure 24. The Three Living, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés. Ye. 189. 276 Figure 25. The Three Dead, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés. Ye. 189. 277 Figure 26. The Three Living and the Three Dead, La danse macabre, La Ferté- Loupière, Yonne (Burgundy), fresco, c. 1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 278 Figure 27. The Pope and the Emperor, La danse macabre, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, between September 1486 and June 1486, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.-Ye-88. 279 Figure 28. La danse macabre, La Chaise-Dieu, Auvergne, c.1470. Photo credit: Alexander Hoernikg. 280 Figure 29. The Archbishop and the Knight, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189. 281 Figure 30. The Bishop and the Squire, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189. 282 Figure 31. Guy Marchant’s printer’s device showing saints Crispin and Crispinian and his motto Sola fides suffict. Detail from the title page of Le Compost et kalendrier des bergiers, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1493, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. M. V. 33. 283 Figure 32. Guy Marchant’s printer’s device showing the figure of Prestre Jehan. Detail from the title page of Le Compost et kalendrier des bergeres, printed by Guy Marchant for Jean Petit, Paris, 1499, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V- 1266. 284 Figure 33. Death, the Infant and the Mother and Death, the Peasant and the Sower, Le mors de la põme, Jean Miélot, c. 1470, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Ms. fr. 17001. 285 Figure 34. The Legate and the Duke, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés. Ye. 189. 286 Figure 35. The Halberdier and the Fool, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189. 287 Figure 36. Pains of Hell, showing the gluttons, detail. Le Compost et kalendrier des bergiers, woodcuts designed by Pierre Le Rouge, edition printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1493. Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. M. V. 33. 288 Figure 37. Pains of Hell, showing the covetous men and women, detail. Le Compost et kalendrier des bergiers, woodcuts designed by Pierre Le Rouge, edition printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1493, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. M. V. 33. 289 Figure 38. Mouth of Hell and Death on a Horse, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86. 290 Figure 39. Zodiac Skeleton, Le Compost et kalendrier des bergiers, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1493, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés. M. V. 33. 291 Figure 40. La danse macabre, La Ferté-Loupière, Yonne (Burgundy), fresco, c. 1500, detail. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 292 Figure 41. The Peasant, the Franciscan and the Infant, La danse macabre, La Ferté- Loupière, Yonne (Burgundy), fresco, c. 1500. Photo credit: M. Dujakovic. 293 Figure 42. The Hypocrite and the Female-Fool, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 149, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.Ye. 86. 294 Figure 43. The Merchant W oman and the Bailiff’s Wife, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86. 295 Figure 44. The Bourgeois W oman and the W idow, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.Ye. 86. 296 Figure 45. The Regent and the Knight’s Lady, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86. 297 Figure 46. The Priestess and the Lady, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.Ye. 86. 298 Figure 47. The Saleswoman and the Prostitute, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86. 299 Figure 48. Master E. S. A Couple Embracing, engraving, c. 1450-1466. Figure 48 has been removed due to copyright restrictions. It showed an engraving with a man and a woman embracing. In the image, the man kisses the woman’s cheek, while she gazes smilingly at the viewer. 300 Figure 49. The Queen and the Duchess, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86. 301 Figure 50. The Debate Between the Body and the Soul, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86. 302 Figure 51. The Debate Between the Body and the Soul, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1491,Bibliothèque nationale, Rés.Ye. 86. 303 Figure 52. The Complaint of the Damned Soul, The Debate Between the Body and the Soul, La danse macabre des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 149, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.Ye. 86. 304 Figure 53. Death, the Theologian and the Fool, Le mors de la põme, Jean Miélot, c. 1470, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Ms. fr. 17001. 305 Figure 54. The Ship of Eve, Jehan Drouyn, La nef des folles, Paris, c. 1500, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. M-YC-750 306 Figure 55. The Cleric and the Hermit, La danse macabre nouvelle, illustrated book, printed by Guy Marchant, Paris, 1486, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés. Ye. 189. 307 Figure 56. The Pope and the Emperor, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 279. 308 Figure 57. The Carthusian and the Sergeant, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Bibliothéque nationale de France, Vélins 579. 309 Figure 58. The Archbishop and the Knight, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Bibliothéque nationale de France, Vélins 579. 310 Figure 59. The Astrologer and the Bourgeois, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Bibliothéque nationale de France, Vélins 579. 311 Figure 60. The Three Dead, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 279. 312 Figure 61. The Three Living, La danse macabre, printed by Gillet Coteau and Jean Menard for Antoine Vérard, Paris, 1492, printed on vellum and hand painted, Lambeth Palace Library, MS 279. 313 Figure 62. Title page, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735. 314 Figure 63. Cry de Mort, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735. 315 Figure 64. La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735. 316 Figure 65. Exortation de bien vivre y de bien mourir, La grãt danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Mathias Husz, Lyons, 1499/1500, The British Library Board, IB. 41735. 317 Figure 66. Title page, La grant danse macabre des hommes y des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278. 318 Figure 67. The Patriarch and the Constable, La Grant danse macabre des hommes y des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278. 319 Figure 68. The Ship of the W orld, La Grant kalendrier, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278. 320 Figure 69. Pains of Hell, La Grant kalendrier, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278. 321 Figure 70. . Pains of Hell, La Grant kalendrier, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278, detail showing the reader’s marks. 322 Figure 71. Cry de mort, La Grant danse macabre des hommes y des femmes, illustrated book, printed by Nicolas Le Rouge, Troyes, 1531, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-V-278. 323 Figure 72. The Pope, La danse macabre, unknown printer, Geneva, 1503, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-331. 324 Figure 73. The Monk, La danse macabre, unknown printer, Geneva, 1503, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-331. 325 Figure 74. The Author with the Dead King, La danse macabre, unknown printer, Geneva, 1503, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-331. 326 Figure 75. The Author with the Dead King, La danse macabre, unknown printer, Geneva, 1503, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Rés.-Ye-331, detail showing the reader’s writing. 327 Figure 76. The Compositor and the Printers, La grand danse macabre des homes y des femes, illustrated book, printed by Pierre de Sainte Lucie, Lyons, 1555, The British Library Board, C.47.h.12. 328 BIBLIOGRAPHY Alexandre –Bidon, Danièle. 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Pierre Champion, Paris: Editions des Quatre Chemins,1925. Langlois, Eustache-Hyacinthe. Essai historique, philosophique et pittoresque sur les danses des morts, Ouvrage complété et publié par m. André Pottier et m. Alfred Baudry. 2 vols. Rouen: A Lebrument, 1852. Lawrence-Mathers, Anna and Phillipa Hardman, eds. The Women and Writing, c. 1340-1650: c. 1340-1650: The Domestication of Print Culture. Suffolk: Boydell & Brewer, 2010. Lawton, H. W ., Contribution à l’histoire de l’humanisme en France: Térence en France au XVIe siècle. Paris: Jouve, 1926. Leclerc, Marie-Dominque. “Les Editions bleues de la Danse macabre: Continuité et rupture.” Actes du dixième Congrès international sur les Danses macabres. Vendôme, 6-10 septembre 2000. Meslay-le-Grenet. Association européenne des Danses macabres, 2000. 93-110. - - - . “Les fresques,” Danser avec le mort: Les danses macabres dans les manuscrits et les livres imprimés du XVe au XXe siècle, eds. 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work_q75dxl3b3fcqvkqvi2sjd35psu	----	FROM MEDIAEVAL SWORD TO RENAISSANCE RAPIER by Dr. A d a Bruhn Holffmeyer THE sword types of the Middle Ages proper are not numerous. They are assembled chiefly a b u t two main types: the sword with the brazil-nutshapecl plommel and the swolrd with the disoor wheel pommel. I n both main groups there are numerous variations olf the pommel forms, with a certain amount of typological selqueme, inter- mediate form~s and special forms. T o some extent the shape of the pommel is related to the hand-guard, which may be horizontal or curved, thick and heavy, round, flat, much curved or sligthly curved. The shape of the pommel, the length of the tang and the sh~.pe and length of the guard or quillons are the most important aids to the period and provenance determination of the sword. In this respect the blade is secondary in implortance, because in the majolrity of cases blades were mass-produced in great blade centres, whereas the hilts mostly are individual work, carried out in accordance with the owner's personal idelas and pecuniary circumstances, and also accor- ding to the intended purpoise of the weapon: ceremonial, coronation, magistracy, public authorities or war. No dmb& further and detailed examinations of the various types and shapes of bla~des, their m a t e rial and the manufacture of the blades will be most useful a s an important aid i n regard to the determination of provenance, use and chronology. The sword with the brazil-nut pommel and the horizontal quiIlons dates chiefly to the pieriod between 950-1250, more especially in the 12th century. It is the sword of the Bayeux tapestry, carried both by AnglohS'axons and by Normansl (fig. 1). (Yet some few variations are seen in the tapestry, e. g. the State Sword of king Harold). But the forerunners occur in such illuminations as for instance T b Gos. pels of Otto 111, froim about 9183-991 (Munich Staatsbibl. Cod. Lat. 4453). The brazil-nut sword appelaw sometimes with curved quillons, but these are not common. The brazil-nut pommel sword is a direct continuation of the common Germanic-Viking Age types. I n actual faot it represents the close of an epoch, of the spatha which conti- nued from the Merovingian sword through the swords of t h e Csro- lingian and Viking periods with the many pommel variatiolns, by J a n Petersen divided into groups named after t h e letters of the alb phabet. The brazil-nut sword occurs especially in Central and North Europe, but it is also t o be found in the n o ~ t h m part of West FROM MEDIAEVAL SWORD TO RENAISSANCE RAPIER by Dr. Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer THE sword types of the Middle Ages proper are not numerous. They are assembled chiefly about two main types: the sword with the brazil-nut.shaped pommel and the sword with the disC'-or wheel pommel. In both main groups there are numerous variations of the pommel forms, with a certain amount of typological se1quence, inter- mediate forms and sp€lcial forms. To some extent the shape of the pommel is related to the hand.guard, wh1ch may be horizontal' or curved, thick and heavy, round, flat, much curved or sligthly curved. The shape of the pommel, the length of the tang and the shape and length of the guard or quillons are the most important aids to the period and provenance determination of the sword. In this respect the blade is secondary in importance, because in the ma1jority of cases blades were mass'produced in great blade centres, whereas the hilts mostly are individual work, carried out in accordance with the owner's personal idelas and pecuniary circumstances, and RIso accor. ding to the intended purpose of the weapon: ceremonial, coronation, magistracy, public authorities or war. No doubt further and detailed examinations of the various types ,and shapes of blades, their mate- rialand the manufacture of the blades wm be most useful as an important aid in regard to the determination of provenance, use and chronology. The sword with the braz,u-nut pommel and the horizontalquHlons dates chiefly to the period between 9'50-1250, more especially in the l'2th ,century. It 1s the sword of the Bayeux tapestry, carried both by Anglo-Saxons and by Normans (fig. 1). (Yet some few variations are seen in the tapestry, e, g. the State Sword of king Harold). But the forerunners occur in such illuminations as for instance The Gos· pels of Otto II!, from about 983-9;g1 (Munich Staatsbibl. God. Lat.4453). The brazil-nut sword appe'8l's sometimes with curved quillons, but these are not common. The brazil·nut pommel sword is a direct continuation of the common Germanic-Viking Age types.. In actual fa,ct it represents the close of an epoch, of the srpatha which conti- nued from the Merovingian sword through the swords of the Caro- lingian and Viking periods with the many pommel variations, by Jan Petersen divided into groups named after the letters of the al. phabet. The brazil-nut sword occurs especially in Central and North Europe, but it is also to be found in the northern part of West 5 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es F i g . 1. Transitional s W o r d , f r o m Meuse, late 11th century. In blade name o f Ulifberth. ( C o l l . E . A . Christensen, Copen- hagen, E 131). Europe, for instance in northern France, Holland, Belgium and En- gland, a s well as in the Baltic countries, eastwards as far as the Volga regions and possibly still more to the East. On the other hand it occurs less frequently in South Europe and in the South of France, regions in which the disc-and wheel pommels are sovereign. Fig. 1. Transitional s IV 0 r d, from Meuse, late 11th century. In blade /lame of Ulfberth. (Coli. E. A. Chr;stensen, Copen- hal?en. E 131). Europe, for instance in northern France, Holland, Belgium and En· gland, as well as in the Baltic countries, eastwards as far as the Volga regions and possibly still more to the East. On the other h3nd it occurs less frequently in South Europe and in the South of France, regions in which the disc-and wheel pommels are sovereign. 6 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es The brazil-nut polmmel varies with t h e periods, and to some extent also with locality. I n early times it was often almost a half disc; soon afterwards it acquired more or less olive, lenticular, h a t or saddle shapes, thick below and thin above, rounded or with a n almost pointed top. ( A detailed examination and division has been undertaken by the English archaeologist R. Ewart Oakeshott, in his book: T h e Archaeology of Weapons, 1960). I n most oases t h e tang is very short, somewhat longer on the later swords, especially those with a tall, pointed pommel. The quillons are generally horizontal: thin a n d slender in late Viking types, thick and foursided on t h e early swords, later on more slender, often with a cross section that is rounded or almost round. In North Italy, Switzerland a n d Austria we some. times find broad quillons, horizontal along the top, curved under- neath, perhaps the result of influence of South European forms (fig. 2-3). The curved quillon (including t h a t on some Vikibg F i g . 2. So-called Set. Mauritius sword, about 1200-1250. (Armerin Reale, Tbrino, G 25). types) is p~resumably due to Oriental influence. T h e blades are of the heavy cutting type1 with a molre or less rounded point. On the earlier ones the grooves extend almost to; the point, whereas later they reach only three fourths 09 the length or less. The brazil·nut pommel varies with the periods, and to some extent also with locality. In early times it was often almost a ha.lf disc; soon afterwards it acquired more or less olive, lenticular, hat or saddle shapes, thick below and thin above, rounded or with an almost pointed top. (A detailed examination and division has been undertaken by the English archaeologist R. Ewart Oa.keshott, in his book: The Archaeology of Weapons, 1960). In most cases the tang is very short, somewhat longer on the later swords, espec;ally those with a tall, pointed pommel. The quillons are generally horizontal: thin and slender in late Viking types, thick and four-sided on the early swords, later on more slender, often with a cross section that is rounded or almost round. In North Italy, Switzerland and Austria we some· times find broad quillons, horizontal along the top, curved under- neath, perhaps the result of influence of South European forms (fig. 2-3). The curved quillon (including that on some Vikihg Fig. 2. So-called Sct. Mauritius sword, about 1200-1250. (Armeria Rea/e, Thrino, G 25). types) is presumably due to Oriental influence. The blil.des are of the heavy cutting type with a more or less rounded point. On the earlier ones the g-rooves extend almostto' the point, whereas later they reach only three fourths of the length or less. 7 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es The Viking pattern-welded damast has disappeared; it is now en- countered olnly very oiocasionadly (e. g. a fragment in the National Museum in Copenhagen). Instead the blade-smiths have adopted another and improved technique. (Actually this new methcd makes its appearance as earliy as the 9th century.) His minute resea~ches and analyses have enabled the Italian scientist Carlo Panseri to ex- plain the technique, starting inter alia with a 12th century sword of the brazil-nut type found in 19148 at Adige, near Legnago castle, the important defence f~rtifica~tions against the barbarian hordes olf mi- gration times and against the enemies of later days. As regards the blades, continued metallurgical research will presumabiy make it possi- ble to make fairly valid distinctions between the bladecentres olf South and Central Europe. Inscriptions and pictorial scenes on bla- des are not uncommon. On solme of the early swords we find the master's signature ((Zngelri me fecit)), or simply the name Zngelri, spelt i n a variety of ways. Swords signed Ingelri can be traced across large sections of Europe, fosr instance in northern FraWx, Bel- gium, Englcmd, Germany, Norway and Sweden right over to the Volga. Only one specimen is known to have been found in Denhark, in South Schleswig and now in private Dlanish ownership (Coll. H. Briins Hansen, Hillerod). The lettering is the same as on the Ulfberth blades, goold and painstakingly executed on the earliest, often slipshold and clumsy on the later ones. Other inscriptions a'ppsar combined with this one, especially of a religious character (fig. 3) such as HOMO JXI or I;N NOlMJNE DOIMINI, whilch are familiar from swords with a wheel p~o~mmel. I t is presumable that these really are swords of the early days of the Crusades (Homo Dei, ((Man of God)), as the first crusaders called themselves see I. Timothy, 6,ll: ctTh autem, o homo Dein). Side by side with the iron-inlaid inscriptions we find several with fine silver or bratss inlay, pictorial and allego- rical scenes or merely ornaments between the letters. A remarkable example is the sword L. M. 10116, Zurich, with its long series of alle- gorical pictures. Incolvations of Christ or His Mother (0 Sancta Maria), St. Peter, blessings, ((Eripe Nos)), from the Psalms or other religious inscriptions are also met with. I n South E'urope they are often supplications to Virgin Mary. Another noteworthy sword is the one a t Rouen, found in the Seine at the ClhBteau Gaillard, a relic of the siege by Richard Coeur d'leon in 1203-4 with the ins- cription DEUS and Romanesque birds between each letter. These religious inscriptions are mostly confined to one palrticular perio~d, the Crusades under Richard Coeur d'leon, Erederick Barbarossa, Philippe-AugUste, the Counts of Flanders and in the days of St. Louis. Letters and ornaments on the sword blades have close p~aradlels in The Viking pattern-welded damast has disappeared; it is now en- countered only very occaslonatlly (e. g. a fragment in the National Museum in Copenhagen}. Instead the blade-smiths have adopted another and improved technique. (Actually this new methcd makes its appearance as early as the 9th century.) His minute researehes and analyses have enabled the Italian scientist Carlo Panseri to ex- plain the technique, 'Starting inter alia with a 12th century sword of the brazil-nut type found in 1948 at Adige, near Legnago castle, the important defence fortifications against the barbarian hordes of mi- gration times and against the enemies of later days. As regards the blades, continued metallurgical research will presumably make it possi- ble to make fairly valid distinctions between the blade-centres of South and Central Europe. Ins<:riptions and pictorial scenes On bla- des are not uncommon. On some of the early swords we find the master's signature «Ingelri me fecit», or simpl,y the name Ingelri, spelt in Ri variety of ways. Swords signed Ingelri can be traced across large sections of Europe, for instance in northern France, Bel- gium, England, Germany, Norway and Sweden right over to the Volga. Only one specimen is known to have been found in Denmark, in South Schleswig and now in private Danish ownership (Coll. H. Briins Hansen, Hillerod). The lettering is the same as on the Ulfberth blades, good and painstakingly executed on the earliest, often slipshod and clumsy on the later ones. Other inscriptions a,ppear combined with this one, especially of a religious character (fig. 3) such as HOMO DEI or IN NOMINE DOMINI, which are familiar from swords with a wheel pommel. It is presumable that these really are swords of the early days of the Crusades (Homo Dei, «Man of God», as the first crusaders called themselves see I. Timothy, 6,11: «Tu autem, 0 homo Dei!l). Side by side w;th the iron-inlaid inscriptions we find several with fine silver or brass inlay, pictorial and allego- rical scenes Or merely ornaments between the letters. A remarkable example is the sword L. M, 10116, ZUrich, with its long series of alle- gorical pictures. Incovations of Christ or His Mother (0 Sancta Maria), st. Peter, blessings, «Eripe Nos», from the Psalms or other religious inscriptions are also met with. In South Europe they are often supplications to Virgin Mary. Another noteworthy sword is the one at Rouen, found in the Seine at the Chateau Gaillard, a relic of the siege by Richard Coeur d'Leon ;n 1203-4 with the ins- cription DEUS and Romanesque birds between each letter. These religious inscriptions are mostly confined to one pa,rticular period, the Crusades under Richard Coeur d'Leon, Frederick Barbarossa, Philippe.Auguste, the Counts of Flanders and in the days of St. Louis. Letters and ornaments On the sword blades have close parallels in 8 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es the manuacrilpt illuminations of those times and sometimes can be dated by means of comparisons with dated manuscripts. They cons- titute an important chronolo~gical support. Among the swords with a brazil nut pommel there are several fine specimens that are fairly reliably dated. Among the most distinctive we may reckon the so-called St. Mauritius sword i n the Vienna Weltliche Schatzkammer, the Austrian coronation and ceremonial sword, which is dated by its inscriptions and heraldic figures, t h e German-Roman eagle and the three lelopards, the arms of the emperor Otto IV (1198-1215). The scabbard, adorned with chased gold work and its borders of enamel and semi.precious stones selems to be Sicilian work. Another r e markable sword is the second St. Mauritius specimen, originally from St. Mauritius monastery a t Valois, Switzerland, taken to Torino in 1591 (See Panseri, 1. c. I., p. 10). The hilt is well proportioned, with a charasteristic saddle-shaped pommel, short grip, band-shaped qui- llons curved on the underside, a farm to be seen mostly in the sword material of the Latin lands (fig. 2). The fragmentary sword from t h e Seine, outside t h e Ch&teau Gai- Ilard, dated to about 1203-4, is of interest on account of its finding place and its inslcripltion. Related blade inscriptions will be found on two1 blades in the! Real Arrnerio i n Madrid (G 21 and G 180); G l80 has a later hilt, made by the Toledo master Salvador de Avila, prior to 1539. T h e St. Mauritius sword at Torino, a similar specimen in t h e Dla. nish private aollection, of mr. E. A. Christensm, Copenhagen, and one in the Landesmuseun a t Zurich must be placed among t h e latest of the swords with a brazil-nut pommel I n all probability ad1 three are of Noirth Italian workmanship (fig. 3). At about t h e middle of the 13th century the type almost disappears from t h e practical sword material and is encountered only now and then in t h e plictorial arts, especially in Germany and t h e Scandina~vian countries, though i t is still t o be found in the illuminations of Matthew of Paris and in t h e Maciejowski Bible, dated about 1250. I t appears on the tombstone of the Swiss Ulrik von Regensberg as iate as 1280. This type of sword, terminates the era of the old Carolingian ancl Viking sword, which can be followed from certain Viking types via the swords of the Bayeux ta~pestry to the molst characteristic Germanilc type of sword of the 12th century. The relatively few swolrds with a lobed pommel like some of the late Viking types may be regarded as descendants of Viking swords with subdivided pommels, such as t h e types Jan Petersen: R, S, and 2. The Norwegian sword from Korsoygard with its runic inscriptions -owner's and maker's names-has a forerunner i n a sword frolm Riga the manuscript illuminations of those times and sometimes can be dated by means of comparisons with dated manuscripts. They cons- titute an important chronolo-gical support. Among the swords with a brazil-nut pommel there are several fine specimens that are fairly reliably dated. Among the most distinctive we may reckon the so-called St. Mauritius sword in the Vienna Weltiiche Schatzkammer, the Austrian coronation and ceremonial sword, which is dated by its inscriptions and heraldic figures, the German-Roman eagle and the three leopards, the arms of the emperor Otto IV (1198-1215). The scabbard, adorned with chased gold work and its borders of enamel and semi.precious stones seems to be Sicilian work. Another re- markable sword is the second St. Mauritius specimen, originally from St. Mauritius monastery at Va~ois, Switzerland, taken to Torino in 1591 (See Panseri, I. c. I., p. 10). The hilt is well proportioned, with a charasteristic saddle-shaped pommel, short grip, band-shaped qui- lIons curved on the underside, a fcrm to be seen mostly in the sword material of the Latin lands (fig. 2>- The fragmentary sword from the Seine, outside the Chateau Gai. llard, dated to about 1203-4, is of interest on account of its finding place and its inscription. Related blade inscriptions will be found on two blades in the Real Armeria in Madrid (G 21 and G 180); G 180 has a later hilt, made by the Toledo ma-ster Salvador de Avila, prior to 1539. The St. Mauritius sword at T(}rino, a similar specimen in the D'a- nish private collectiO'n, of mr. E. A. Christensen, Copenhagen, and one in the Landesmuseun at Zurich must be ,placed among the latest of the swords with a brazil-nut pommel. In a:1l probability all three are of North Italian workmanship (fig. 3>. At about the middle of the 13th century the type almost disappears from the practical sword material and is encountered only now and then in the pictorial arts, especially in Germany and the Scandinavian countries, though it is still to be found in the illuminations of Matthew of Paris and in the Maciejowski Bible, dated about 1250. It appears on the tombstone of the Swiss Ulrik van Regenl;berg as late as 1280. This type Of sword, terminates the era Of the old CarolinQ'ian and Viking sword, which can be followed from certain Viking types via the swords of the Bayeux tapestry to the most characteristic Germanic type of sword of the 12th century. The relatively few swords with a lobed pommel like some of the late Viking types may be regarded as descendants of Viking swords with subdivided pommels, such as the types Jan Petersen: R, S, and Z. The Norwegian sword from Korsoygard with its runic inscriptions -owner's and maker's names-has a forerunner in a sword from Riga 9 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. Sword yro- h a b l y o f North Italian w o r k m a n s - hip, a b o u t 1200 - 1250. B l a d e ins- cription: IN N O M I N E D O M I N Z . (Coll. E. A. C h r isrensen, CopenL ngen, E I . Grip modern). in Latvia, a younger parallel in a sword in an English private co~llec- tion, found .n River Trent in England, and is known in pictorial art inter alia fro~m the Ebberston carving in England. This type of pom- mel still is to be found in Danish altar carvings from the end of the 15th and the beginning of the 16th century. The trilobate pommel, that recurs in the various MSlS of the Apaaalypse of S. Beato de Lie- bano, dated to loth, 11th or later centuries originates from Eastern types. I t is wall know from various Spanish MSS, from the notable Fig. 3. Sword pro- ha b Jy of N orlll Ilalian workmans- hip, a bo III 1200 - 1250. B Ja d c ins- criplion: IN NOMINE DOM IN I. (Coli. E. A. Ch ri slensen, Copen;;agen. E I. Grip modern), in Latvia, a younger paraUel in a sword in an English private collec- tion, found ~n River Trent in England, and is known in pictorial art inter alia from the Ebberston carving in England. This type of pom- mel still is to be found in Danish altar carvings from the end of the 15th and the beginning of the 16th century. The trilobate pommel, that recurs in the various MSS of the Apocalypse of S. Beato de Lie- bano, dated to 10th. 11th or later centuries originates from Eastern types. It is well know from various Spanish MSS, from the notable 10 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es sword of San Femando in Real Armeria i n Madrid and from spe- cimens, for instance in Musee Cluny in Paris. We find it too, for Instance i n Matthew of Paris, o 1250, in his description of t h e Battle of Stamfordbridge in 10166. The Maciejowski Bible of about 1250 has it too. The 12th and 13th century trifoil pommel sometimes occurs on crusader's swords, with the leavels moreover decorated in varie- gated enamels This type of pommel is to be found in Spanish paintings as late as the end of 15th and the beginning of 16th cen- tury. Coming of the Knightly Sword The main form of sword in t h e Middle Ages is the cPiscand wheel- pgmmel sword, whether the pommel is flat or moulded, groo~ved or round-lenticular. The wheel pommel is combined with horixWzta1 and with curved quillons. I n this group the material is immense and spans over a period from about l100 t a 1500-for t h e Northern countries in fact to about 1550. I n this large group several subgroups can be distinguished accor- ding to the pommel details, for example the size of t h e mouldings, the thickness and weight of the p~ommel, t h e size and shape of the top rivet on the pommel, the shape a n d length of t h e guard, t h e length of the tang. T h e results of this subdivision must be supple mented by studies of the shape, type a n d size of t h e blades, to which must be added any individual marks, heraldry, ornamentation, etc. With shalpe and type as a basis i t is possible to split t h e material into several chronological sections, in which the types group them- selves about characteristic, more or less definitely dated specimens. The grolupls comprise the early swords up to 1200 or shortly after, the swords of the 13th century, the true classical knightly sword of about 1300-1350 and t h e various chronological periods after about 1350. The time about t h e middle of t h e 14th century signifies a distinct line of demarcation in t h e evolution of t h e weapon a s re- gards the hilt and especially the blade: new blade type~s, t h e thrus- ting blade and the cut-and thrust blade begin t o be very much i n evi- dence and exert a n influence on the evolution of the sword otherwise. Moreover, it is possible to draw more distinct national lines, t o distin- guish more clearly between North and South, or rather betwelen Latin and Germanic. At an early stage there is already a separation between the Latin and the Germanic. This applies also to England, which to a certain degree is more Latin t h a n Germanic in character. This parting of t h e ways between Latin and Germanic development is perceptible part~cularly after the middle of the 14th century. Among the Latin peopihes the development passes via the pointed infantry sword of San Fernando in Real Armeria in Madrid and from spe- cimens, for instance in Musee Cluny in Paris. We find it too, for instance in Matthew of Paris, o. 1250, in his description of the Battle of Stamfordbridge in 1066. The Maciejowski Bible of about 1250 has it too. The 12th and 13th century trifoil pommel sometimes occurs on crusader's swords, with the leaves moreover decorated in varie· gated enamels This type of pommel is to be found in Span:sh paintings as late as the end of 15th and the beginning of 16th cen- tury. Coming of the Knightly Sword The main form of sword in the Middle Ages is the disc-and wheel- p~mmel sword, whether the pommel is flat or moulded, grooved or round-lenticular. The wheel pommel ;s combined with horizontal and with curved quillons. In this group the material is immense and spans over a period from about 1100 to 150G-for the Northern countries in fact to about 1550. In this large group several sub-groups can be distinguished accor- ding to the pommel details, for example the size of the mouldings, the thickness and weight of the pommel, the size and shape of the top rivet on the pommel, the shape and length of the guard, the length of the tang. The results of this subdivision must be supple- mented by studies of the shape, type and size of the blades, to which must be added any individual marks, heraldry, ornamentation, etc. With shape and type as a basis it is possible to split the material into several chronological sections, in which the types group them- selves about characteristic, more or less definitely dated specimens. The groups comprise the early swords up to 1200 or shortly after, the swords of the 13th century, the true classical knightly sword of about 1300..1350 and the various chronological periods after about 1350. The time about the middle of the 14th century signifies a distinct line of demarcation in the evolution of the weapon as re- gards the hilt and especially the blade: new blade types, the thrus- ting blade and the cut·andthrust blade begin to be very much in evi- dence and exert an influence on the evolution of the sword otherwise. Moreover, it is possible to draw more distinct national lines, to distin- guish more clearly between North and South, or rather between Latin and Germanic. At an early stage there is already a separation between the Latin and the Germanic. This applies also to England, which to a certain degree is more Latin than Germanic in character. This parting of the ways between Latin and Germanic development is perceptible particularly after the middle of the 14th century. Among the Latin peoples the development passes via the pointed infantry 11 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es thrusting sword and the hispano-arab jinete sword with a short hilt to the aristocratic rapier, whereas among the Germaric peoples t h e old cutting technique is continued and developed. Formidable cut- ting swords are produced for use by the infantry. Mixed forms, in- termediate forms, mutual influences and currents frolm t h e Orient and East Europe are introlduced and often make it difficult t o u n r a ~ vel t h e types of subsequent epochs. The wheel pommel (in which context the spherical pommel must be included) h a s nothing whatever t o do with Viking traditions. Actually it is a n ancient Mediterranean inheritance. Neither the wheel nor the splherical pommel is to be observed in Carolingian- Viking swords, any more than i t was on the spathas of t h e Merovin. gian period. Beyond the Roman Empire it is to be found prioir to the Migration period in provincial Roman areas and in the Roman Iron Age of the Scandinavian countries e. g in the bog deposits of Denmark. I n reality i t is possible to trace the mediaeval wheel or spherical pommel back via Byzantium and the Bosporan culture r e gion and the Levant a s far as the ancient Roman and Bymntine empire reached, including Persia, etc, to the thrusting sword of the soldiers of the Roman legions. I t is characteristic of this type that for instance in the 12th century when it reappeared in Europe, it was common in South Europe, less common in Central Europe and sparsely represented in t h e Scandinavian lands. I n pictolrial a r t it is almost universal in the Latin countries. From the 10th century Byzantine triptych in the Louvre (Harbarville) and other Byzantine works of that time it can be followed in Italy, Spain and France. Its occurrence is earliest i n Italy and Splain, where a n examination of early art found it to be common. On a capita,l from San Pedro de las Duefias in L ~ ~ T u , now in the Archeol. Mus Madrid, l l t h century, a sword of this kind is to be seen thrust into t h e jaws of a lion; in Biblia cEe Farfa (Santa Maria de Ripoll), l l t h century, now in Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, it appears distinctly several times. The same is true of t h e Libros de 101s Testamentos from the cathedral in Oviedo, 1126-29, a fresco in t h e apsis central in San Martin, in Museo Episcopal de Vich, abfout 1150, in ms. ill. (Tantigla~ de Alfonso el Sabio in El Escorial, latter part of 13th century, in Monreale at Palermo, 1174-87, on t h e seal of Raoul de Fougere, 1161, on the tombstone of Geoffrey Plantagenet ( m enamel) a t Mans, about 1175, where t h e rendering is very characteristic of Latin swords in that period. I t can be traced in numerous other monuments a n d illumi- nations of manuscripts. As a rule the pommel is rendered a s a flat disc without mouldings, as we also see it i n the archaeological ma- terial. Around 1200 or in the flrst half of the 13th century we see thrusting sword and the h;spano-arab jinete sword with a short hilt to the aristocratic rapier, whereas among the Germaric peoples the old cutting technique is continued and developed. Formidable cut- ting swords are produced for use by the infantry. Mixed forms, in- termediate forms, mutual influences and currents from the Orient and East Europe are introduced and often make it difficult to unra- vel the types of subsequent epochs. The wheel pommel (in which context the spherical pommel must be included) has nothing whatever to do with Viking traditions. Actually it is an ancient Mediterranean inheritance. Neither the wheel nor the spherical pommel is to be observed in Carolingian- Viking swords, any more than it was on the spathas of the Merovin- gian period. Beyond the Roman Empire it is to be found prior to the Migration period in provincial Roman areas and in the Roman Iron Age of the Scandinavian countries e. g in the bog deposits of Denmark. In reality it is possible to trace the mediaeval wheel or spherical pommel back via Byzantium and the Bosporan culture re- gion and the Levant as far as the ancient Roman and Byzantine empire reached, including Persia, etc, to the thrusting sword of the soldiers of the Roman legions. It is chara:teristic of this type that for instance in the 12th century when it reappeared in Europe, it was common in South Europe, less common in Central Europe and sparsely represented in the Scandinavian lands. In pictorial art it is almost universal in the Latin countries. From the 10th century Byzantine triptych in the Louvre (Harbarville) and other Byzantine works of that time it can be followed in Italy, Spain and France. Its occurrence is earliest in Italy and Spain, where an examination of early art found it to be common. On a capital from San Pedro de las Dueiias in Lea7lJ, now in the Archeol. Mus. Madrid, 11th century, a sword of this kind is to be seen thrust into the jaws of a lion; in Biblia de Farfa (Santa Maria de Ripoll), 11th century, now in Biblioteca Apost6lica Vaticana, it appears distinctly several times. The same is true of the Libros de los Testamentos from the cathedral in Oviedo, 1126-29, a fresco in the apsis central in San Marttn, in Museo Episcopal de Vich, about 1150, in ms. ill. Cantigas de Alfonso el Sabio in El Escorial, latter part of 13th century, in Monreale at Palermo, 1174-87, on the seal of Raoul de Fougere, 1161, on the tombstone of Geoffrey Plantagenet (in enamel) at Mans, about 1175, where the rendering is very characteristic of Latin swords in that period. It can be traced in numerous other monuments and illumi- nations of manuscripts. As a rule the pommel is rendered as a flat disc without mouldings, as we also see it in the archaeological ma- terial. Around 1200 or in the first half of the 13th century we see 12 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es the commencement of the mouldings that become so characteristic of the wheel pommel of the classical Knightly sword. The other de- tails of these earIy swords are more or less the same as those of the brazihnut sword: the tang is short, the guard often has horizontal quillons that are rectangular in cross section, the blades are as befo~ re, with a more or less rounded point, but sometimes with a n approach to a sharper form. As regards inscriptions, these early blades too are sometimes furnished with an Ingelri mark, though less frequently than the (previous ones, whereas HOMO DEI or I N NOMINE DIOMINI, benedictory inscriptions, silver and brass inlays-religious or decorati- ve--are more frequent, especially after about 12100. Entire complexes olf letters occur, framed or separated by ornaments, animal figures, cros- ses, etc. With regard to these apparently meaningless and insoluble devices however it is probable t h a t a t any rate some could be inter- preted by means of a careful study of t h e culture in Crusade days, of the Old Testament, especially the Books of Psalms a n d Proverbs. I t seems t h a t these wheelp~ommel swords made their appearance with the first crusades. I t is the close contact with Byzantine cul- ture and warfare, a contact that left its traces in other fields, also within t h e sphere of warfare and arms and is particularly pro~minent in the enamel-decorated mountings on equestrian trapphgs and harness. Sword pommels of the disc form, decorated with heraldic figures in coloured enamels, are known from t h e 12th century. A special ordinance established the national colours, white for English crusaders, red for French and green for Flemish. Disc pommels with castle motives and the like, have been found in Syria i. a. a t Damascus, as in the case of bronze pommels for instance in t h e Musee Cluny. A fine enamel pommel now is in the Metropolitan Mu- seum, New York, with t h e arms of Pierre de Dreux and his national colours. Pierre de Dlreux took part in S t Louis' crusade a t the siege of Jerusalem in 1248-50. With the crusaders the Mediterranean sword types were spread out over the countries of Europe which in one way or another had contributed man-power or had been implicated directly i n the crusades. The wheel pommel developed in the course of the 13th century. I t became larger, heavier, thicker, with grooves and a n elevated pa. nel on each side, a panel which especially on t h e Germanic swords was often o~ccupied by a small tininlaid cross. These crosses are also familiar in pictorial renderings and are not uncommon in French illuminated MSS of the late 13th and t h e 14th century (e. g. French Titus Livius ms. a t Bordeaux). The pommel acquires higher and more conical top rivelt, often of brass. The tang becomes longer, the guard longer, often more slender, round or octagonal-sometimes the commencement of the mouldings that become so characteristic of the wheel pommel of the classical Knightly sword. The other de. tails of these early swords are more or less the same as those of the brazil-nut sword: the tang is short, the guard often has horizontal Quillons that are rectangular in cross section. the blades are as befo- re, with a more or less rounded point, but sometimes with an approach to a sharper form. As regards inscriptions, these early blades too are sometimes furnished with an Ingelri mark, though les& frequently than the ,previous ones, whereas HOMO DEI or IN NOMINE DOMINI, benedictory inscriptions, silver and brass inlays-religious or decorati· ve-are more frequent, especially after about 1200. EnLre complexes of letters occur, framed or separated by ornaments, animal figures, cros- ses, etc. With regard to these apparently meaningless and insoluble devices however it is probable that at a,ny rate some could be inter- preted by means of a careful study of the culture in Crusade days, of the Old Testament, especially the Books of Psaims and Proverbs. It seems that these wheel pommel swords made their appearance with the first crusades. It is the close contact with Byzantine cul- ture and warfare, a contact that left its traces in other fields, also within the sphere of warfare and arms and is particularly prominent in the enamel·decorated mountings on equestrian trapp:ngs and harness. Sword pommels of the disc form, decorated with heraldic figures in coloured enamels, are known from the 12th century. A special ordinance established the national colours, white for English crusaders, red for French and green for Flemish. Disc pommels with castle motives and the like, have been found in Syria i. a. at Damascus, as in the case of bronze pommels for instance in the Musee Cluny. A fine enamel pommel nOW is in the Metropolitan Mu- seum, New York, with the arms of Pierre de Dreux and his national colours. Pierre de Dreux took part in SL Louis' crusade at the siege of Jerusalem in 1248-50. With the crusaders the Mediterranean sword types were spread out over the countries of Europe which in one way or another had contributed man-power or had been implicated directly in the crusades. The wheel pommel developed in the course of the 13th century. It became larger, heavier, thicker, with grooves and an elevated pa. nel on each s;de, a panel which especially on the Germanic swords was often occupied by a smaH tin inlaid cross. These crosses are also familiar in pictorial renderings and are not uncommon in French illuminated MSS of the late 13th and the 14th century (e. g. French Titus Livius ms. at Bordeaux). The pommel acquires higher and more conical top rivet, often of brass. The tang becomes longer, the guard longer, often more slender, round or octagonal-sometimes 13 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es round a t the ends only-in cross-section. Among the different po~mmels t h e details become much more varied. On the whole, however, these wheel p~ommels provide quite good material for their chronological and typological classificatio~n, and sometimes a determination of their provenance. The 13th and 14th centuries are the period of chivalry's flores- cence. Chain mail for m a n aind horse, additional defences in the form of cuir bouilli, iron plates, helmets, triangular shields and heavy lances, massive cradlesaddles and good rowel-spurs are a knight's outfit, besides his sword and the military dagger, especially i n the 14th century. T h e effective and costly cutting sword, like the helmet and dagger, are chained to the iron breast plate under or over the mail. There may be national differences in details of the helmet and sword, probably individual pireferences too, but there is a certain international stamp about the equipment, for which reason the type of sword is more or less t h e same in t h e greater part of Europe in the real days of chivalry. The classical knight's sword has the shar- ply profiled pommel, the high top rivet, the grip of fine but not exaggerated length, t h e hor,zontal or the curved quillons in proportions suitable to the length of the hilt, the blade heavy, with grooves half or three quarters of the way down and with a more pointed tip than before. I n this period t h e curved quillons are encountered chiefly in the L a t i n regions and in England. I t i s well known from the pictorial representations of t h e period, illuminated MSS, as well a s the nume- rous sepulchral monuments, particularly in Italy, Spain and England. German and Swiss tombs provide excellent specimens of the knightly sword with horizontal quillo~ns (many of the French were delstroyed during t h e Revolution). But in the archaeological material the hori- zontal quillons are also frequent ,n South Europe. There are good, datable specimens o~f both types. Among characteristic specimens that are fairly well dated there is, for the early period, the Oldenburg sword, which was found near Harmenhausen in Oldenburg and i s probably a relic of t h e battle of S t e d i n g e in 1234, where a crusader army fought against a force of pfeasants. The sword represents t h e introduction of the cllassical knight's sword, the pommel still only slightly mo~delle~d and a hang that is just beginning to lengthen. The decorative and well-executed silver-inlaid blade inscription was deciphered by t h e late Paul Post together with Professor Ruthinger, and in all probability correctly so. From this sword, dated to t h e first quarter of t h e 13th oeatury, developments proceed via types like the fragmentary Breslau s w o ~ d round at the ends only-in cross-section. Among the different pommels the details become much more varied. On the whole, however, these wheel pommels provide quite good material for their chronological and typological classification, and sometimes a determination of their provenance. The 13th and 14th centuries are the period of chivalry's flores- cence. Chain mail for man and horse, additional defences in the form of cuir bouilli, iron plates, helmets, triangular shields and heavy lances, massive cradlesaddles and good rowel-spurs are a knight's outfit, besides his sword and the military dagger, especiaUy in the 14th century. The effective and costly cutting sword, like the helmet and dagger, are chained to the iron breast plate under or over the mail. There may be national differences in details of the helmet and sword, probably individual preferences too, but there is a certain international stamp about the equipment, for which reason the type of sword is more or less the same in the greater part of Europe in the real days of chivalry. The classical knight's sword has the shar- ply profiled pommel, the high top rivet, the grip of fine but not exaggerated length, the hor:zontal or the curved quillons in proportions suitable to the length of the hilt, the blade heavy, with grooves half or three quarters of the way down and with a more pointed tip than before. In this period the curved quillons are encountered chiefly in the Latin regions and in England. It is well known from the pictorial representations of the period, illuminated MSS, as well as the nume- rous sepulchral monuments, particularly in Italy, Spain and England. German and Swiss tombs provide excellent specimens of the knightly sword with horizontal quillons (many of the French were destroyed during the Revolution). But in the archaeological material the hori- zontal quillons are also frequent :n South Europe. There are good, datable specimens of both types. Among characteristic specimens that are fairly well dated there is, for the early period, the Oldenburg sword, which was found near Harmenhausen in Oldenburg and is probably a reHc of the battle of stedinge in 1234, where a crusader army fought against a force of peasants. The sword represents the introduction of the classical knight's sword, the pommel still only slightly modelled and a tang that is just beginning to lengthen. The decorative and well-executed silver-inlaid blade inscription was deciphered by the late Paul Post together with Professor Riithinger, and in all probability correctly so. From this sword, dated to the first quarter of the 13th century, developments proceed via types like the fragmentary Breslau sword 14 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es which probably belonged to King Ottokar of Bohemia and which has blade figures, inlaid with silver, representing a knight crusader wearing his helmet, a Cross of Jerusadem on his shield, the Agnus Dei and with a tin cross in the now more profiled pommel, altogether a splendid specimen of a crusader sword of the period about 1255-1275. Although the quillons are now missung it is reasonable to assume that they were probably horizontal. Round about the year 1300 the classical sword reached its full de- velopment, and in the first half of the 14th century we find the best m d clearest representatives of the Germanic knightly swords in a number of speoimens i. a. at Ziirich, Rambusg, Lubeck, Berlin, Co- penhagen and several other localities. For exemple, with its date determined from the find combinations is the Bettximatt s w o ~ d from the battle of 1337, now in the L. M., Ziirich. Undated, but closely related though more Latin of type and of splendid shape i s a sword from the Thames, now in the British Museum; another mench s p e cimen is now in the Wallace Coll. in London. A South European sword from ToLedo cathedral is the child's sword of Juan, younger brother of Sancho ZV; this well-preserved specimen has a silver gilt pommel of modelled-wheel form with the arms of Castille and Leon on both sides in coloured enamels, a grip of medium size, horizontal quillons, a good cut-and-thrust blade, the scabbard covered with velvet and having the same heraldic coats of arms in enamel. This well-pro- portioned type is a clear expression of the classical knightly swor~d at its best and typ~ologically conforms well to the first quarter of the 14th century. If the interpretations of the heraldic emblems are correct it agrees well with the claim that the sword belonged to Juan, who fell in 1319, fighting the Moors near Granada. The weapon is undoubtedly of Spanish workmanship; the enamel might indicate Valencia, which was well known for its enamel work in the period. As a matter of fact the town was also famous for its blades. One Italian parallel is the sword of Can Grande della Scala (ob. 13291, from the tomb at Verona dated to pre-1330. I t is also in this period t h a t we find the best parallels to the archaeological objects on tombstones in Spain, Italy and Germany. Another characteristic feature of this group of swords is the inlay of letters. Both letter groups and letter types are first-rate adjuvants in date determinations. Among examples of datable swords with carved quillons I may mention another sword in Toledo cathedral, recovered from the tomb of Sancho ZV, king of Castille and Leon (1284-1295), a son of Alfon- so X el Sabio (fig. 4). The cruciform hilt has a modelled pommel of a form which well matches the later part of the 13th century, a short tang on which the grip covering is still extant, short, flat and which probably belonged to King Ottokar 0/ Bohemia and which has blade figures, inlaid with silver, representing a knight crusader wearing his helmet, a Cross of Jerusalem on his shield, the Agnus Dei and with a tin cross in the now more profiled pommel, altogether a splendid specimen of a crusader sword of the period about 1255-1275. Although the quillons are now missJng it is reasonable to assume that they were probably horizontal. Round about the year 1300 the classical sword reached its full de- velopment, and in the first half of the 14th century we find the best and clearest representatives of the Germanic knightly swords in a number of specimens i. a. at Ziirich, Hamburg, Liibeck, Berlin, Co- penhagen and several other localities. For exemple, with its date determined from the find combinations is the Bettzimatt sword from the battle of 1337, now in the L. M., Ziirich. Undated, but closely related though more Latin of type and of splendid shape is a sword from the Thames, now in the British Museum; another French spe- cimen is now ;n the Wallace ColI. in Loncton. A South European sword from Toledo cathedral is the child's sword ot Juan, yaunger brother at Sancho IV; this well-preserved specimen has a silver gilt ponunel of modelled-wheel form with the arms of Castille and Le6n on both sides in coloured enamels, a grip of medium size, horizontal quillons, a good cut-and-thrust blade, the scabbard covered with velvet and having the same heraldic coats of arms in enamel. This well-pro- portioned type is a clear expression of the classical knightly sword at its best and typologically conforms well to the first quarter of the 14th century. If the interpretations of the heraldic emblems are correct it agrees well with the claim that the sword belonged to Juan, who fell in 1319, fighting the Moors near Granada. The weapon is undoubtedly of Spanish workmanship; the enamel might indicate Valencia, which was well knovm for its enamel work in the period. As a matter of fact the town was also famous for its blades. One Italian parallel is the sword of Can Grande della Scala (ob. 1329), from the tomb at Verona dated to pre-1330. It is also in this period that we find the best parallels to the archaeological objects on tombstones in Spain, Italy and Germany. Another characteristic feature of this group of swords is the inlay of letters. Both letter groups and letter types are first-rate adjuvants ,n date determinations. Among examples of datable swords with (;..J.rved quillons I may mention another sword in Toledo cathedral, recovered from the tomb of Sancho IV, king 0/ Castille and Lean 0284-1295), a son of Alfon- so X el Sabio (fig. 4). The cruciform hilt has a modelled ponunel of a form which well matches the later part of the 13th century, a short tang on which the grip covering is still extant, short, flat and 15 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 4. Sword f r o m t h e t o m b of S a n c h o I V , K i n g of Casti- lle (1284-95). I n blade part o f inscription still visible b n h o r h s i d e s . W i t h part o f the belt. ( C a - pilla M a y o r , T o l e d o Cathe- dral). curved quillons with decorated lobate ends. Pommel and quillons are decorated with ornaments in Mudejar style and with Arabic letters. The sword is a characteristic South European form and the short grip is fully in concord with local custom there Another outstanding sword olf the type undated it is true, is the characteristic specimen in the Institute del Conde Valencia de Don Juan, the so-called Santa Casilda Sword with its heraldioally arnamented disc pommel on which the wavy lines are seen in enamel and surrounded by the prayer: Ave Fig, 4. Sword 1ro m the tomb 01 Sallcho IV, King 01 Cast i- lie (I284-95). III blade part 01 illscriptioll still visible IJn both sides. With part 01 the belt. (Ca- pilla Mayor, Toledo Cathe- dral), curved quillons with decorated lobate ends. Pommel and quillons are decorated with ornaments in Mudejar style and with Arabic letters. The sword is a characteristic South European fonn and the short grip is fully in concord with local custom there. Another outstanding sword of the type undated it is true, is the characteristic specimen in the Instituto del Conde Valencia de Don Juan, the so-called Santa Casilda Sword with its heraldically ornamented disc pommel on which the wavy lines are seen in enamel and surrounded by the prayer: Ave 16 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Maria, gratia plena (fig. 5). The quillons, which are broad with a slightly curved upper edge and under edge in the shape of a, double arch, are of a form that is characteristic of and very popular in South EXlrope. They have an inscription in Spanish whose characters and contents place it to the period shortly after 1300: Dios es vencedor en todo. This sword type is known but is anything but common in Fig. 5 . So-called Santu Casilda's sword. Inscriptions on pommel: A V E MARZA G R A T I A PLENA; on quillons: DlOS ES VENCEDOR EN T O D O , A(MEN). (Inst. de Valencia de Don Juan, Madrid). Maria, gratia plena (fig. 5). The quillons, which are broad with a slightly curved upper edge and under edge in the shape of a doubie arch, are of a form that is charactenstic of and very popular in South Europe. They have an inscription in Spanish whose characters and contents place it to the period shortly after 1300: Dios es vencedOr en todo. This sword type is known but is anything but common in Fig. 5. So-called Santa Casilda's sword. Inscriptions on pommel: AVE MARIA GRATIA PLENA; on quillons: DIOS ES VENCEDOR EN TODO, A(MEN). (Inst. de Valencia de Don Juan, Madrid). 17 2 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es the first half of the 14th century in the Germanic countries, whereas it is frequently met with in the pictorial arts of the Latin lands. From cut to thrust, change-over about 1350 The sword is in constant evolution, dependent as it is upon the development of the oth~er weapons, upon strategy and tactics. For this reason it may often be hard to draw sharp chronological bound- aries, even when there are apparently good evidences. On the other hand there are some points that make sharp distinctions and help to set up a good terminus. This holds good of the time around the middlo of the 14th century-a restless, belligerent period. Conditions are disturbed in the Mediterranean world. On the Iberian peninsula it is the conflict between Pedro el Cruel and Enrique de Trastamara. Ell prinoipe negro Edward of E3lgland is actively trying to introtduce his new tacticall methods on the peninsula. Barcelona is enjoying a golden age, the Catalanians holding all the strings to the maritime routes on the Mediterranean, with brisk communications with Athens, Morea, Byzantium etc, with dominion over Sicily and a Iarge part of the islands in the Tyrrhenian Sea. Opposite them are the Italian trade republics, especially Pisa and Genoa. The Hundred Years War between France and England was in progress; the famous Battle of C r e ~ y in 1346 had revealed an important tactical advance, a form oif shock tactics with the E,nglish long-bow archers against heavily ar- moured French cavalry. The Swiss fight for freedom against the Austrians, commenced with the Battle of Moorgarten in 1315, continued with Laupen in 1339, Sempach in 1386, again with infantry superior to the knights. The house of Anjou was at Naples, the French knights, conducted by Peter of Lusignan, were defeated by the sultan a t Ale- xandria in 1365. The Itallan republics and duchies fighted. Cavalry had begun to waver, unable to cope with a mobile infantry carrying other categories of weapons such as the halberd, pike and two-hand sword, or against the short and sharp thrusting swords of South European foot soldiers. The thrusting sword had already been usled in battle in the second half of the 13th century. Of the Battle of Benevento in 1266 Primatus de Bouquet writes that at first the Proven~al troops of Charles $Anjou were unable to stand up to the great cutting sworlds of the German cavalry, wielded with both hands. I t was only when, covered by the long pikes and armed with small, light thrusting swords, they engaged the horsemen at close querters and thrust their sharp blades into armpits, groin and other unprotected parts of the riders that they the first half of the 14th century in the Germanic countries, whereas it is frequently met with in the pictorial arts of the Latin lands. From cut to thrust, change-over about 1350 The sword is in constant evolution, dependent as it is upon the development of the other weapons, upon strategy and tactics. For this reason it may often be hard to draw sharp chronological bound- al."i.es, even when there are apparently good evidences. On the other hand there are some points that make sharp distinctions and help to set up a good terminus. This holds good of the time around the middlo of the 14th century-a restless, belligerent period. Conditions ar~ disturbed in the Mediterranean world. On the Iberian peninsula it is the conflict between pedro el Cruel and Enrique de Trastamara. El principe negru Edward of England is actively trying to introduce his new tacticaJ methods on the peninsula. Barcelona is enjoying a golden age, the Catalanians holding all the strings to the maritime routes on the Mediterranean, with brisk communications with Athens, Morea, Byzantium etc, with dominion over Sicily and a large part of the islands in the Tyrrhenian Sea. Opposite them are the Italian trade republics, especially Pisa and Genoa. The Hundred Years War between France and England was in progress; the famous Batble of CreQY in 1346 had revealed an important tactical advance, a form of shock tactics with the English long-bow archers against heavily ar- moured French cavalry. The Swiss fight for freedom against the Austrians, conunenced with the Battle of Moorgarten in 1315, continued with Laupen in 1339, Sempach in 1386, again with infantry superior to the knights. The house of Anjou was at Naples, the French knights, conducted by Peter of Lusignan, were defeated by the sultan at Ale- xandria in 1365. The Italian republics and duchies fighted. Cavalry had begun to waver, unable to cope with a mobile infantry carrying other categories of weapons such as the halberd, pike and two-hand sword, or against the short and sharp thrusting swords of South European foot soldiers. The thrusting sword had already been used in battle in the second half of the 13th century. Of the Battle of Benevento in 1266 Primatus de Bouquet writes that at first the ProvenQal troops of Charles d'Anjou were unable to stand up to the great cutting swords of the German cavalry, w:elded with both hands. It was only when, covered by the long pikes and armed with small, light thrusting swords, they engaged the horsemen at close quarters and thrust their sharp blades into armpits, groin and other unprotected parts of the riders that they 18 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es got the better of the heavily armoured cavalry. Thus the thrusting sword was in use, at any rate by the lower ranks of soldiers in South Europe, in the 13th century. Sieur de Joinville relates in his memoirs, written, when he was en old man, about 1309, of the Battle at Man- sourah during St. Louis' crusade in Egypt in the year 1250, OC a sword used for thrusting. A Saracen had struck him with a lance, so that he was pressed against the neck of his horse and the lance, and he was unable to draw his sword, which was suspended at his waist belt. When the Saracen now saw t h e knight draw the other sword, suspendeld at the saddle, he turne~d his horse and rode away, but the knight too turned his hcrse, rode against the Saracen and killed him, using his sword in the manner of a lance, as1 h e writes in the memoirs. In Chapter 13 of his manual: De regimine principum, on the art of war, the Italian nobleman archbishop of Bourges since 1295 and general of the Augustine Order, Bgidius Romanus Colonna, the tutor of Philip the Flair. writes that the thrusting sword is the most useful form of sword, because it penetrates chain-mail more easily than the cutting sword, gives deeper and more mortal wounds and is less strenuous in use. I n his manual IEgidius is evidently in- fluenced. by his studies of Vegetius, just as was king Alfonso el Sabio of Castille, who wrote a textbook on warfare in 1260. Yet Alfonso was even more influenced by the Arabic authors. And so it appears that in the wars of the 14th century - especially in the latter half - the heavily armoured cavalry with its cutting sword, which in the meantime had become very large, had difficulty in holding its own against the agile infantry armed with short thrusting swords. T'ime and again Froissart, writing on the Hundred Years' War, relates how both French and English had short, stiff thrusting swords, short Bordeaux swords which are stiff and pointed. French pictorid pepre- sentations olf the period contain splendid examples of such thrusting swords. At Sempach and elsewhere the Swiss carry a characteristic thrusting sword with a slender, sharp-pointed blade and a new form of hilt, a facetted, pear-shaped pommel, short grip and curved quillons, a weapon presumably inspired by French forms and, after the many finds on the battlefield of Sempach, came to be known a s the Sempach sword. The Swiss freedom wars in the 14th and 15th centuries stand like a series of epitaphs over th,e cavalry. Side by side with the pointed thrusting sword the heavy two-hand sword proved to be an efficient infantry weapon. In t h e second half of the 14th century the course of developments divided into two prin- cipal directions: a thrusting szuord and a cutting sword, both esr sentially for infantry use, and in between a more commonly carried cut-and-thrust sword. used from horseback. The cutting sword, which got the better of the heavily armoured cavalry. Thus the thrusting sword was in use, at any rate by the lower ranks of soldiers in South Europe, in the 13th century. Sieur de Joinville relates in his memoirs, written, when he was en old man, about 1309, of the Battle at Man. sourah during St. Louis' crusade in Egypt in the year 1250, of a sword used for thrusting. A Saracen had struck him with a lance, so that he was pressed against the neck of his horse and the lance, and he was unable to draw his sword, which was suspended at his waist belt. When the Saracen now saw the knight draw the other sword, suspended at the saddle, he turned his horse and rode away, but the knight too turned his hcrse, rode against the Saracen and killed him, using his sword in the manner of a lance, as! he writes in the memoirs. In Chapter 13 of his manual: De regimine principum, on the art of war, the Italian nobleman archbishop of Bourges since 1295 and general of the Augustine Order, ./Egidius Romanus Colonna, the tutor of Philip the Fair, writes that the thrusting sword is the most useful form of sword, because it penetrates chain·mail more easily than the cutting sword, gives deeper and more mortal wounds and is less strenuous in use. In his manual lEgidius is evidently in· fluenced. by his studies of Vegetius, just as was king Alfonso el Sabio of Castille, who wrote a textbook on warfare in 1260. Yet Alfonso was even more influenced by the Arabic authors. And so it appears that in the wars of the 14th century - especially in the latter half - the heavily armoured cavalry with its cutting sword, which in the meantime had become very large, had difficulty in holding its own against the agile infantry armed with short thrusting swords. Time and again Froissart, writing on the Hundred Years' War, relates how both French and English had short, stiff thrusting swords, short Bordeaux swords Which are stiff and pointed. French pictorial repre- sentations of the period contain splendid examp:es of such thrusting swords. At Semp2ch and elsewhere the Swiss carry a characteristic thrusting sword with a slender, sharp-pointed blade and a new form of hilt, a facetted, pear-shaped pommel, short gr;p and curved quillons, a weapon presumably inspired by French forms and, after the many finds on the battlefield of Sempach, came to be known as the Sempach sword. The Swiss freedom wars in the 14th and 15th centuries stand like a series of epitaphs over the cavalry. Side by side with the pointed thrusting sword the heavy two-hand sword proved to be an efficient infantry weapon. In the second half of the 14th century the course of developments divided into two prin- cipal directions: a thrusting sword and a cutting sword, both es- sentially for infantry use, and in between a more commonly carried cut-and-thrust sword, used from horseback. The cutting sword, which 19 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es evolved f r o m hand and-half t o a two-hand sword, is mainly a Ger- manic creation, t h e thrusting sword a Latin. T h e former is used chiefly i n t h e Germanic lands but is b y n o means unknown in Latin regions, though there it d i f f e r s i n appearance f r o m t h e Germanic. I t was i n t h e Latin regions that t h e foundation was laid i n this period for the 16th century rapier hilts w i t h their complicated systems o f branches for t h e protection o f t h e hand. T h i s hilt i s t h e product o f several factors, t h e Latin way of using a sword - whether thrusting or cutting weapon - influence f r o m the cavalry sword o f the BwbeTs with its very short hilt, and the systemization of fencing as an art. Towards t h e close o f t h e 15th century gunpowder and firearms bring more influence t o bear upon t h e art o f war. T h e change of men- tality with the new school of thought, the Renatssance, disinterreid t h e inheritance f r o m antiquity, its great generals and its writings o n war and strategy, t h e study of Vegetius, Vitruvius, Polybius, Caesar, the impulses from the learned Greek-speaking world which had t o flee before t h e Turks, all led t o a complete change. I n 1521 came in Florence Machiavelli's w o r k : Libro dell' Arte della Guerra in which that great politician drew largely upon the antique writers, particularly Polybios and Cesar; but even Vegetius and Frontinus were his teachers. Machiavelli too had m u c h t o say about the role o f t h e thrusting sword. 4 s an adjuvant t o t h e thrusting sword the long infantry pike acquired great importance. Italy, Spain, the Low Countries and Switzerland brought it forward into t h e front ranks; t h e Swiss had halberds too. T h e two-handed sword or t h e halberd was combined b y t h e Swiss with, t h e pike, whereas t h e Latin nations combined pike and thrusting sword. T h e latter combination proved superior t o the former i n t h e famous Battle neur Bellinzona in 1422. Armed with the thrusting sword t h e Italian infantry commanded by t h e famous Mi- lanese Carmagnola, were more mobile a n d effective than the Swiss with the halberd. It is not without reason that the pointed thrusting sword became dominant i n t h e South. The Germanic line, i. e. Germany, Austria, Switzerland and Scandi- navia, in that period had gone in, completely for the large cruciform hilt with a heavy highly profiled pommel and a long grip, horizontal quillons (more rarely curveld), or an entirely different type, the bas- tard sword w i t h t h e pear-shaped pommel that was merely smooth or facetted. T h e tang was long, t h e quillons hoirizontal or curved almost like khose o f t h e Sempach swords. This type belongeid mainly North o f t h e Alps, though it i s sometimes met with to t h e South e. g. i n Spain, introduced by t h e mercenaries under t h e Hapsburgs. There ere m a n y variations, and d a b b l e specimens become more numerous. evolved from a hand-and-half to a two-hand sword, is mainly a Ger- manic creation, the thrusting sword a Latin. The former is used chiefly in the Gennanic lands but is by no means unknown ~n Latin regions, though there it differs in appearance from the Gennanic. It was in the Latin regions that the foundation was laid in this period for the 16th century rapier hilts with their complicated systems of branches for the protection of the hand. This hilt is the product of several factors, the Latin way of using a sword - whether thrusting or cutting weapon - influence from the cavalry sword 0/ the Berbers with its very short hilt, and the systemization 0/ fencing as an art. Towards the close of the 15th century glUlpowder and firearms bring more ,influence to bear upon the art of war. The change of men- tality with the new school 0/ thought, the Renaissance, disinterred the inheritance from antiquity, its great generals and its writings on war and strategy, the study of Vegetius, Vitruvius, Polybius, Caesar, the impulses from the learned Greek-speaking world which had to flee before the Turks, all led to a complete change. In 1521 came in Florence Machiavelli's work: Libro dell' Arte della Guerra in which that great politician drew largely upon the antique writers, particularly Polybios and Cesar; but even Vegetius and Frontinus were his teachers. Machiavelli too had much to say about the role of the thrusting sword. As an adjuvant to the thrusting sword the long infantry pike acquired great importance. Italy, Spain, the Low Countries and Switzerland brought it forward into the front ranks; the Swiss had halberds too. The two-handed sword or the halberd was combined by the Swiss with the pike, whereas the Latin nations combined pike and thrusting sword. The latter combination proved superior to the former in the famous Battle near Bellin:<.ona in 1422. Armed with the thrusting sword the Italian infantry commanded by the famous Mi- lanese Carmagnola, were more mobile and effective than the Swiss with the halberd. It is not without reason that the pointed thrusting sword became dominant in the South. The Germanic line, i. e. Gennany, Austria, Switzerland and Scandi- navia, in that period had gone in completely for the large crucifonn hilt with a heavy highly profiled pommel and a long grip, horizontal quillons (more rarely curved), or an entirely different type, the bas- tard sword with the pear-shaped pommel that was merely smooth or facetted. The tang was long, the quillons horizontal or curved almost like those of the 8empach swords. This type belonged mainly North of the Alps, though it is sometimes met with to the South e. g. in Spain, introduced by the mercenaries under the Hapsburgs. There are many variations, and datable specimens become more numerous. 20 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es It is possible to make a typological and chronologicd classification, which shows how developments took place within periods of about a quarter or a half century. A pear-shaped pommel is often seen on thrusting swords, frequently the very long ones small lances in fact. Gut-and-thrust swords and the purely cutting swords mostly have a wheel or more or less spherical pommel. In the Scandinavian countries this type of sword continues in use right up to 1500, and even later often in conjunction with a n almost spherical pommel that was especially popular in the North. Early in the 16th century in the S~candinavian countries these hand-and-half swords are furnished with branches and loops which turn them into big, awkward versions of the rapier. In a great many instances the blades of these large cuband-thrust swords and the cutting swords bear the wolf and crozier stamp, the emblem of the Passau workshops. Passau blades were in particular favour in the Scandinavian countries in the 14th and 15th oenturies; in fact, these blades were in very wide use in the Germanic countries a t the time. All through the Middle Ages the Passau smiths did a large export trade with East Europe. In t h e 15th century the Solingen factories came more and more into the foreground and in time displaced the Passau products, at any rate on the Northern market, especially after about 1500. The Passau workshops had proveld capable of satisfying the military standards set by the North Germanic countries for a sword blade, and Solingen in its turn did the same. The skilful Solingen smiths in the next centuries succeede,d in turning out blades that satisfied the requirements of both Latin and Germanic countries, and thereby in the course of time became paramount-quantitativelv; on the other hand there is no doubt that the Spanish factories, at any rate Toledo and Valencia, and the Italian, Mi,:an, Belluno and Brescia were1 quali- tatively superior. The large cut-and-thrust swords and the long Germanic Panzerste- cher or foining estoc of the end of the 15th century have no long religious inscriptions like the cutting sword of Crusade times. Stamps, figures such as woIf marks, stars, cartouches containing e. g. ZNRZ or JHS in Gothic minuscles appear frequently on the Germanic swords. In the Latin regions conditions in the 15th and 16th aenturies are somewhat different ; ((Maria)) inscriptions and invocations of Virgin Mary are not uncommon. Naturally these years have handed down a n ~ n b e r of distinotive and costly dated or datable swords of Gennanic type, individual specimens created to suit the wishes and wealth of the patron, and there are also many plain, simple war swords, some factory made throughout, for instance from Fassau or Solingen, others finished off It is possible to make a typological and chronological classification, which shows how developments took place within periods of about a quarter or a half century. A pear-shaped pommel is often seen on thrusting swords, frequently the very long ones small lances in fact. Cut-and-thrust swords and the purely cutting swords mostly have a wheel or more or less spherical pommel. In the Scandinavian countries this type of sword continues in use right up to 1500, and even later often in conjunction with an almost spherical pommel that was especially popular in the North. Early in the 16th century in the Scandinavian countries these hand-and-half swords are furnished with branches and loops which turn them into big, awkward versions of the rapier. In a great many instances the blades of these large cut-and-thrust swords and the cutting swords bear the wolf and crozier stamp, the emblem of the ?assau workshops. Passau blades were in particular favour in the Scandinavtan countries in the 14th and 15th centuries; in fact, these blades were in very wide use in the Germanic countries at the time. All through the Middle Ages the Passau smiths did a large export trade with East Europe. In the 15th century the Solingen factories came more and more into the foreground and in time displaced the Passau products, at any rate on the Northern market, especially after about 1500. The Passau workshops had proved ca.pable of satisfying the military standards set by the North Germanic countries for a sword blade, and Solingen· in its turn did the same. The skilful Solingen smiths in the next centuries succeeded. in turning out blades that satisfied the requirements of both Latin and Germanic countries, and thereby in the course of time became paramount-quantitatively; on the other hand there is no doubt that the Spanish factories, at any rate Toledo and Valencia, and the Italian, Mi.:an, Bel/uno and Brescia were quali. tatively superior. The large cut-and-thrust swords and the long Germanic Panzerste- cher or faining estoc of the end of the 15th century have no long religious inscriptions like the cutting sword of Crusade times. stamps, figures such as wolf marks, stars, ca·rtouches containing e. g. INRI or JHS in Gothic minuscles appear frequently on the Germanic swords. In the Latin regions conditions in the 15th and 16th centuries are somewhat d:fferent; «Maria» inscriptions and invocations of Virgin Mary are not uncommon. Naturally these years have handed down a m;..~ber of distinctive and costly dated or datable swords of Germanic type, individual specimens created to suit the wishes and wealth of the patron, and there are also many plain, simple war swords, some factory made throughout, for instance from Passau or Solingen, others finished off 21 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es in the importing countries. I t is possible to draw up a fairly re~liable chronology for these swords from the 15th century. However there is one group of swords that is mostly of Latin origin, some thrusting swords, others of the cut-and-thrust type, almost all of them with a wheel pommel, the majority with a short grip and curved quillons. These swords are dated by means of their blade inscriptions in Arabic, which give brief historical information about the weapons. They are war trophies, captured by the Egyptian sultans, from the Cypriote knights in 1365 when they besieged Alexandria and were defeateld, and in 1426 when Barsbey raided Cyprus and took a large booty (fig. 6-71. Including swords, helmets and other weapons this booty was taken t o the arsenal at Alexandria and hung as trophies, Fig. 6 . Ztalian sword w i f h Arabic inscription. Part. of s p i l tu- ken f r o m the C y p r i o f e knights by the Egyptians in 1365. ( C o l l . E . A . Christen- sen, Copenhagen. E . 190). in the importing countries. It is possible to draw up a fairly re-liable chronology for these swords from the 15th century. However there is one group of swords that is mostly of Latin origin, some thrusting swords, others of the cut-and-thrust type, almost all of them with a whe-el pommel, the majority with a short grip and curved quillons. These swords are dated by means of their blade inscriptions in Arabic, which give brief historical information about the weapons. They are war trophies, captured by the Egyptian sultans, from the Cypriote knights in 1365 when they besieged Alexandria and were defeated, and in 1426 when Barsbey raided Cyprus and took a large booty (fig. 6-7). InclUding swords, helmets and other weapons this booty was taken to the arsenal at Alexandria and hung as trophies, Fig. 6. JlaJilln sword with A rabic illScript;oll. Part. of spoil la- ken fro 111 the Cypriole knights by Iht: t.'gy ptialls ill /365, (Col/. E. A. Christell- WII, Copellhagell. E, 190). 22 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 7 . Italian sword with Arabic cription. War-booty from tan Barsbey's invasion o f pros in 1426. (Coll. E . Christensen. E 129. Grip dern). ins- sul- CY - A . 1120- but when the Mameluke captured Egypt in 1517 most of them were carried to Constantinople. (Some few specimens Napoleon later was fortunate enough to bring away from Egypt). Several specimens came into the European market in the 1930's. Thanks to their Arabic inscriptions they provide partkulars of sultans, emirs, etc., which have enabled them to be dated positively. On some of these swords (of which one group can be dated prior to 1365 the other to before 1426, a few speciments to 1419, 1431, etc.), there is a blade detail of considera- ble interest, a ricasso ornamented with a very plain design: an engraved line at each side terminating in a curve and an eye. Somet- hing similar is to be seen on the handsome sword recently published by Pierre Contat (Annales Valaisannes 19601), the ceremonial sword of the Archbmishops of Sion, dated to about 14010 (fig. 8). Some of the swords from the Alexandria arsenal have very pointed thrusting blades with a sharp grat, broad at the top, almost triangular h shape. They rccall what Froissart says of the sharp and stiff Bmdeaux swords of the latter half of the 14th century. A number of swords of Latin Fig. 7. /III/ian sword wirh Arabic ins- cription. War-booty from SU/- tan Barsbey's invasion of Cy- pros in 1426. (Coli. E. A. ChristclIsen. E 129. Grip mo- dern). but when the Mameluke captured Egypt in 1517 most of them were carried to Constantinople. (Some few specimens Napoleon later was fortunate enough to bring away from Egypt). Several specimens came into the European market in the 1930's. Thanks to their Arabic inscriptions they provide parLculars of sultans, emirs, etc., which have enabled them to be dated positively. On some of these swords (of which one group can be dated prior to 1365 the other to before 1426, a few speciments to 1419, 1431, etc.), there is a blade detail of considera- ble interest, a rlcasso ornamented with a very plain design: an engraved line at each side terminating in a curve and an eye. Somet- hing similar is to be seen on the handsome sword recently published by Pierre Con tat (Annales Valaisannes 1960), the ceremonial sword of the Archbishops of Sion, dated to about 1400 (fig. 8). Some of the swords from the Alexandria arsenal have very pointed thrusting blades with a sharp grat, broad at the top, almost triangular in shape. They recall what Froissart says of the sharp and stiff Bordeaux swords of the latter half of the 14th century. A number of swords of Latin 23 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 8. Ceremonial sword @f the Archbishop o f Sion, Swit- zerland, about 1400. (Coll. PiLrre Contat, Sion). origin, mostly Spanish, and Italian, with a wheel pommel, some with a concave-mirror like depression in the side panels, other with enamel- led heraldic arms, others again with a lenticular or shawly profiled pommel, but all with almost horizontal quillons whose ends bend downwards like hooks, are of the period around 1400-a little before or after. One particularly characteristic expression of this Latin type is the Italian sword in the Metropolitan Museum in New York, dated by its Arabic inscription to before 1419. Several others group themselves about it, e. g. a type familiar from Spanish paintings of about 1400 and a little way into the 15th century. The Italian blades from centres such as Milan, Belluno, Brescia, and other places were renowned far and wide for the quality of their products. Through Venice, Pisa and Genoa they were exported notwithstanding reiterated papal prohibition-to the Orient while simuitaneously Oriental blades were imported, for instance from Syria. The Syrian factories fell into disuse in the 15th century. I t is true t h a t others began working in Egypt and Morocco, but part of the Syrian business seams to have passed to the Iberian peninsula. I t is hardly likely that any est- ablishment approache~d Toledo for quality. ( A s in the case of the Milanese products Toledo blades were extensively imitated by Sol- "1.v~-, . ''If ~ .. ~orf'4. • : ...;~ . "','.....~ Fig. 8. Ceremonial sword uf Ihe Archhishops of .'lion, Swit- zerland, aboul 1400. (Coli. Pierre Conlal, .'lion). origin, mostly Spanish, and Italian, with a wheel pommel, some with a concave-mirror like depression in the side panels, other with enamel- led heraldic arms, others again with a lenticular or sharply profiled pommel, but all with almost horizontal quillons whose ends bend downwards like hooks, are of the period around 140o-a little before or after. One particularly characteristic expression of this Latin type is the Italian sword in the Metropolitan Museum in New York, dated by its Arabic inscription to before 1419. Several others group themselves about it, e. g. a type familiar from Spanish paintings of about 1400 and a little way into the 15th century. The Italian blades from centres such as Milan, Belluno, Brescia, and other places were renowned far and wide for the quality of their products. Through Venice, Pisa and Genoa they were exported notwithstanding reiterated papal prohibition-to the Orient while simultaneously Oriental blades were imported, for instance from Syria. The Syrian factories fell into disuse in the 15th century. It is true that others began working in Egypt and Morocco, but part of the Syrian business seems to have passed to the Iberian peninsula. It is hardly likely that any est- ablishment approached Toledo for quality. (As in the case of the Milanese products Toledo blades were extensively imitated by Sol- 24 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es ingen). With only few gaps Toledo's history can be traced back to antiquity, to the Iberians and Celto-Iberians, from whom the Romans, who already had exoellent Etruscan workshops, learned a great dea~l. But there were other centres, Valencia for instance, which produced fine blades that were much in demand; some are still extant with signatures. Seville too was one of the most renowned establishments, and besides there were Granada, Murcia, Barcelona and various Basque smithies. The documents and accounts in the local archives of Sp1a.n- ish towns contain the names of a host of blade smiths. France, too, was in no way behind in the Middle Ages: The Rhbne valley, French Savffie with Annecy, Bordeaux, and other places. Mention of blade smiths is to be found in several towns of southern France, at Lyons, Chatellerault, Poitou, and in the North at Paris, R o w n etc. The sword type of the Latin countries in the 15th century is well represented in the museums, and richly so in the pictorial arts of the perio~d. Characteristic types with the special forms of pommel, the short grip, usually curved quillons, distinctly thrusting blades with grat and strengthened point, and in many instances with a ~icasso, are to be found on several Spanish altar-pieces, sepulchral monuments, mural paintings and in illuminated manuscripts. The birth of Renaissance It was a restless epoch, a time of ferment, of incessant political disturbance, of intellectual currents, commercial connections with distant parts, the period leading up to the crisis of the Renaissance and humanism. The Mediterranean world lives under a pressure born of the fear of the advancing Turks, who in 1453 finally demolished the weak and effete Byzantine empire. The kingdom of Aragdn grows up to a period of brilliance which leid to a certain rallying of the different Mediterranean cultural elements. Catalonia and with it Bar- celona having fallen behind in many respects on account of internal and international political competition and conflicts in the Mediterm nem, the house of Aragon, of the Trastamare family, rose to a mighty state. The very complicated political situation between France, Milan, Arag6n and other states led to the great naval battle a t Ponza in 1435, where the king of Aragon, Alfonso V and his navy was defeated by the Genoese. B g h t years later matters turned, and Arag6n under Alfonso came forward into the limelight, when the Aragonese king defeated the defenders of Naples, Renato de Anjou and the Genoese. I n 1442 Alfonso marched into Naples and from there conducted a large scale imperialistic policy, w;th dreams of becoming another Ale. ingen). With only few gaps Toledo's history can be traced back to antiquity, to the Iberians and Gelto-Iberians, from whom the Romans, who already had excellent Etruscan workshops, learned a great den,!. But there were other centres, Valencia for instance, which produced fine blades that were much in demand; some are still extant with signatures. Seville too was one of the most renowned establishments, and besides there were Granada, Murcia, Barcelona and various Basque smithies. The documents and accounts in the local archives of Span- ish towns contain the names of a host of blade smiths. France, too, was in no way behind in the Middle Ages: The Rhone valley, French Savoie with Annecy, Bordeaux, and other places. Mention of blade smiths is to be found in several towns of southern France, at Lyons, Chatellerault, Poitou, and in the North at Paris, Rouen etc. The sword type of the Latin countries in the 15th century is well represented in the museums, and richly so in the pictorial arts of the period. Characteristic types with the special forms of pommel, the short grip, usually curved quillons, distinctly thrusting blades with grat and strengthened point, and in many instances with a ricasso, are to be found on several Spanish altar'pie<:es, sepulchral monuments, mural paintings and in illuminated manuscripts. The birth of Renaissance It was a restless epoch, a time of ferment, of incessant political disturbance, of intellectual currents, commercial connections with distant parts, the period leading up to the crisis of the Renaissance and humanism. The Mediterranean world lives under a pressure born of the fear of the advancing Turks, who in 1453 finally demolished the weak and effete Byzantine empire. The kingdom of Arag6n grows up to a period of brilliance which led to a certain rallying of the different Mediterranean cultural elements. Catalonia and with it Bar- celona having fallen behind in many respects on account of internal and international political competition and conflicts in the Mediterra- nean. the house of Arag6n. of the Trastamare family, rose to a mighty state. The very complicated political situation between France, Milan, Arag6n and other states led to the great naval battle at Ponza in 1435, where the king of Arag6n, Al/onsa V and his navy was defeated by the Genoese. Eight years later matters turned, and Arag6n under Alfonso came forward into the limelight, when the Aragonese king defeated the defenders of Naples, Renato de Anjou and the Genoese. In 1442 Alfonso marched into Naples and from there conducted a large scale imperialistic policy, w:th dreams of becoming another Ale- 25 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es xander the Great assembling the entire civilized world under his ban- ner. He assumed the titles of king of Jerusalem, Hungary, Croatia, Greece, Cyprus, had mercantile relations with Syria and its hinterlands and with such remote regions as Abyssmia, where he became friend with the Negus with Mogul and Peking. On the Balkan he contacted the famous chieftain of Albania, Scanderbeg. He called himself Divus and in the Roman manner had a triumphal arch erected at Caste1 Nuovo in Naples. The kingdom of Naples became a most important factor in the Mediterranean world, a strong safeguard against the Turkish menace just outside Byzantium. The whole Mediterranean world without France partook in this saf- eguard against the Turks. With this important position Naples was destined to influence cultural developments. With the numerous and far reaching trade connections and the cultural currents flowing in from many quarters: the learned men of the Greek-speaking world, fleeing from the Turks to Venice, Florence and South Italy, the Arabian and Byzantine craftsmen and artists coming to Italy, the Spanish artists and gold- smiths attracted to the Ho-y See and to the court at Naples, and the Italians travelling to the cities of the Iberian peninsula, it is nothing remarkable that some measure of cultural fellowship was formed; Naples became a centre of polztics and culture, from which emanated a stream of cultural renewal to the rest of the world, a Renaissance. In addition there was the rich culture that thrived at the courts of the various Italian princes, a t Florence with the family of Medici (Cosimo, Piero and Lorenzo ctil Magnificon) in Milan, in 1395, created a ducal with the family of the Viscontis and since 1450 the family of the Sforzas. Milan was the sovereign of almost all Lombardy with Pisa (since 1399) and Genoa ctla Superbax since 1464. In Mantova we find the ducal family of the Gonzagas, in Verona the family of the Scalas. Venice was the ruler of a great part of the Dalmatian coast, the island of Crete and after 1489 even the ruler of Cypros. There can be no question of definite delimitations in the Latin world, for which reason we find noble Italian goldsmith's work on Spanish swords, Zaragozan goldsmith's work en Roman swords (e. g. the goldsmiths Pedro de ilm Cellas and Antonio from Zaragoza). Nor is it remarkable that we find almost the same sword types and the same ttnovelties)) in Spanish and Italian paintings of that time. Swords appearing in paintings of the Valencian school of about 1420-30 are to be seen in similar renderings in e. g. Pisan art of about 1430. About the middle of the 15th century there is a wealth of types and forms in both South and North of the two peninsulas. I t is only in rough outlines that the various sword types can be xander the Great assembling the entire civilized world under his ban- ner. He assumed the titles of king of Jerusalem, Hungary, Croatia, Greece, Cyprus, had mercantile relations with Syria and its hinterlands and with such remote regions as Abyssinia, where he became friend with the Negus. with Mogul and Peking. On the Balkan he contacted the famous chieftain of Albania, Scanderbeg. He called himself Divus and in the Roman manner had a triumphal arch erected at Castel Nuovo in Naples. The kingdom of Naples became a most important factor in the Mediterranean world, a strong safeguard against the Turkish menace just outside Byzantium. The whole Mediterranean world without France partook in this saf- eguard ag'ainst the Turks. With this important position Naples was destined to influence cultural developments. With the numerous and far reaching' trade connections and the cultural currents nowing in from many quarters: the learned men of the Greek-speaking world, neeing from the Turks to Venice, Florence and South Italy, the Arabian and Byzantine craftsmep. and artists coming to Italy, the Spanish artists and gold- smiths attracted to the Ho'y See and to the court at Naples, and the Italians travelling to the cities of the Iberian peninsula, it is nothing remarkable that some measure of cultural fellowship was formed; Naples became a centre of politics and culture, from which emanated a stream of cultural renewal to the rest of the world, a Renaissance. In addition there was the rich culture that thrived at the courts of the various Italian princes, at Florence with the family of Medici (Cosimo, Piero and Lorenzo «il Magnifico») in Milan, in 1395, created a ducal with the family of the Viscontis and since 1450 the family of the Sforzas. Milan was the sovereign of almost all Lombardy with Pisa (since 1399) and Genoa «la Superba)) since 1464. In Mantova we find the ducal family of the Gonzagas, in Verona the family of the Sceuas. Venice was the ruler of a great part of the Dalmatian coast, the island of Crete and after 1489 even the ruler of Cypros. There can be no question of definite delimitations in the Latin world, for which reason we find noble Italian goldsmith's work on Spanish swords, Zaragozan goldsmith's work en Roman swords (e. g. the goldsmiths pedro de las Cel/as and Antonio from Zaragoza). Nor is it remarkable that we find almost the same sword types and the same <<novelties)) in Spanish and Italian paintmgs of that time. Swords appearing in paintings of the Valencian school of about 142(}.30 are to be seen in similar renderings in e. g. Pisan art of about 1430. About the middle of the 15th century there is a wealth of types and forms in both South and North of the two peninsulas. It is only in roug'h outlines that the various sword types can be 26 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es followed. There are many intermediate forms, many individual prod- ucts. But towards the middle of the 15th century the remnants of mediaeval knightly culture is forced to make room for the new. With the defeat of Charles the Rash in 1477 it was all over with the Middle Ages and chivalry which, in the first half of that century, and es- pecially by this monarch had beer, elaborated to its culminative but most rigid perfection. Gunpowder and the new school of thought, the renaissance, a product of the many distant trade relations, the Arag- onian empire, the cultural life in Milan, Florence, Venice, etc., the fear of the Turks, Byzantine culture, and ancient Roman and Greek trad- itions, marked a n epoch-for the art of war and for its weapons. Maximilian's organization of the Germanic infantry with its special weapons, the strategy tught by Machiavelli in his great work Arte della guerra, which after all was based upon philosophy, political experiences and the organization and works of Vegetius, Caesar and Polybius in antiquity, and Gonxalo de Cdrdoba, ((El Gran Capitam, decided the course of developments. Hven for a thing so apparently small as sidearms the new outlook was decisive. With the Renaissance the sword was transformed. The estoc and the rapier appeared, not suddenly but as the result of a comparatively complicated process of evolution. Just as the Renaissance is a product of the Latin-or more precisely the Italian world, the estoc and rapier were a Latin product. Just as the Renaissance ran a different course North of the Alps, especially in the Scandinavian countries (where it developed almost into a social revolution), the evolution of the sidearm was also different, not least in the Scandiavian regions, at any rate in the 16th century and the first half of 17th Just as Scandinarviam inte- llectual life frotm now on was d:rected from Wittenberg, the evolution of the sidearm here came under the strong influence of the artists and craftsmen of the Saxon Electoral court From sword to rapier In order to understand this development it is necessary again to distinguish between Latin and Germanic peoples. The form and use of the weapons are intimately related to the temperament and char- acter of the nations and to the history of their intellectual culture. The ancient thrusting traditions of the mediterranean people in con- junction with the cavalry technique of the Moroccan Berber tribes lcad to the swepthilt with its many branches. The cutting technique of the Germanic nations persists during the Renaissance and in the course of its further evolution leads to the large infantry swords, the followed. There are many intermediate forms, many individual prod- ucts. But towards the middle of the 15th century the remnants of mediaeval knightly culture is forced to make room for the new. With the defeat of Charles the Rash in 1477 it was all over with the Middle Ages and chivalry which, in the first half of that century, and es- peciallY by this monarch had been elaborated to its culminative but most rigid perfection. Gunpowder and the new school of thought, the renaissance, a product of the many distant trade relations, the Arag- onian empire, the cultural life in Milan, Florence, Venice, etc., the fear of the Turks, Byzantine culture, and ancient Roman and Greek trad- itions, marked an epoch-for the art of war and for its weapons. Maximilian's organization of the Germanic infantry with its special weapons, the strategy tught by Machiavelli in his great work Arte della guerra, which after al1 was based upon philosophy, political experiences and the organization and works of Vegetius, Caesar and Polybius in antiquity, and Gonzalo de C6rdoba, «El Gran Capittin», decided the course of developments. Even for a thing so apparently small as sidearms the new outlook was decisive. With the Renaissance the sword was transformed. The estoc and the rapier appeared, not suddenly but as the result of a comparatively complicated process of evolution. Just as the Renaissance is a product of the Latin-or more precisely the Italian world, the estoc and rapier were a Latin product. Just as the Renaissance ran a different course North of the A1lps, especially in the Scandinavian countries (where it developed almost into a social revolution), the evolution of the sidearm was also different, not least in the SCancUnavian regions, at any rate in the 16th century and the first half of 17th Just as Scandinaviam inte- llectual lite from now on was d:rected from Wittenberg, the evolution of the sidearm here came under the strong influence of the artists and craftsmen of the Saxon Electoral court From sword to rapier In order to understand this development it is necessary again to distinguish between Latin and Germanic peoples. The form and use of the weapons are intimately related to the temperament and char- acter of the nations and to the history of their intellectual culture. The ancient thrusting traditions of the mediterranean people in con- junction with the cavalry technique of the Moroccan Berber tribe:s lcad to the swepthilt with its many branches. The cutting technique of the Germanic nations persists during the Renaissance and in the course of its further evolution leads to the large infantry swords, the 27 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es bidenhanders (which quickly fall into disuse as a war weapon) and to the huge cutting swords that are still characteristic of the Scan- dinavian lands in the first half of the 16th century. I t also leads to the small cutting swords, the katzbalgers, the special sidearm of the lansquenets. Under influence of the Asiatic and the East Ehropean cavalry's single-edged, more or less curved weapons, sabres, came the mtermediato forms, i. a. with sabre blades and basket hilts. The Lombardic swords in North Italy and the Visigothic swords in Spain were cutting swords like the Viking-Age swords of the Franks. In the infantry battles of the following centuries in Germany the usual sword was used for cutting. I t is rarely seen employed for thrusting, though some few such specimens of about 1200, is to be seen i. a. in a manuscript at Trier, Jungfrauenspiegel. I t is unusual to find any mention of thrusting i n the Germanic literature --though of course it occurs now and then. Ordinarily the sword was wielded with one hand. In the 12th and 13th centuries there was still room for one hand only on the short grip; and yet it is sometimes seen grasped in both hands when a particularly heavy blow was required. This occurs as early as in the period around 9100, in a manuscript from Bt. Gallen (Cod. Perizoni 17, Leyden), where one hand is closed about the grip itself and the other is laid over the first. In the 12th century it is depicted several times, for instance in Hortus Deli- ciarum and in various other ms. illuminations of the period. Cavalry and the more solid weapons of defense necessitated the heavier sword, the larger grip and the longer quillons. The blade became correspondingly longer and heavier. I n the 15th century a broad area is required to receive the adversary's cut. The long quillons are not sufficient enough for cover; the protecting surface is expanded by bending the quillons S-shapeid on the horizontal plane or by adding horizontal siderings where the hilt crossed the blade, sometimes only one on the outside, sometimes one on each side. The horizontal, S-shaped quillons came into use before the middle of the 15th century. Some few specimens are known from an even earlier date, as shown by mr. Oakeshott, i. a a sword in the Cambridge University Museum of Archaeology. But the practise became more common during the later half of the 15th century. Swords of this description are to be seen in museums especially in Switzerland, Germany and the Scandinavian countries. Numerous wood carvings by artists such a s Beham, Burgk- mair, Lucas Cranach, Durer, Urs Graf. Holbein the Younger and seve- ral others depict lansquenets armed with two-handed swords and with the katzbalger at their belt with guards of this kind As regards Den- mark there is a local version of these guards with a large, broad bidenhanders (which quickly fall into disuse as a war weapon) and to the huge cutting swords that are still characteristic of the Scan- dinavian lands in the first half of the 16th century. It also leads to the small cutting swords, the katzbalgers, the special sideann of the lansquenets. Under influence of the Asiatic and the East European cavalry's single-edged, more or less curved weapons, sabres, came the intermediato forms, i. a. with sabre blades and basket hilts. The Lombardic swords in North Italy and the Visigothic swords in Spain were cutting swords like the Vilting-Age swords of the Franks. In the infantry battles of the following centuries in Germany the usual sword was used for cutting. It is rarely seen employed for thrusting, though some few such specimens of about 1200, is to be seen i. a. in a manuscript at Trier, Jungfrauenspiegel. It is unusual to find any mention of thrusting in the Germanic literature -though of course it occurs now and then. Ordinarily the sword was wielded with one hand. In the 12th and 13th centuries there was still room for one hand only on the short grip; and yet it is sometimes seen grasped in both hands when a particularly heavy blow was required. This occurs as early as in the period around 900, in a manuscript from St. Gallen (Cod. Perizoni 17, Leyden), where one hand is closed about the grip itself and the other is laid over the first. In the 12th century it is depicted several times, for instance in Hortus Deli- ciarum and in various other ms. illuminations of the period. Cavalry and the more solid weapons of defense necessitated the heavier sword, the larger grip and the longer quillons. The blade became correspondingly longer and heaVier. In the 15th century a broad area is required to receive the adversary's cut. The long quillons are not sufficient enough for cover; the protecting surface is expanded by bending the quillons S-shaped on the horizontal plane or by adding horizontal siderings where the hilt crossed the blade, sometimes only one on the outside, sometimes one on each side. The horizontal, S-shaped quillons came into use before the middle of the 15th century. Some few specimens are known from an even earlier date, as shown by mr. Oakeshott, i. a. a sword in the Cambridge University Museum of Archaeology. But the practise became more common during the later half of the 15th century. Swords of this description are to be seen in museums especially in Switzerland, Germany and the Scandinavian countries. Numerous wood carvings by artists such as Beham, Burgk- mair, Lucas Cranach, Diirer, Urs Gra!. Holbein the Younger and seve- ral others depict lansquenets armed with two-handed swords and with the katzbalger at their belt with guards of this kind. As regards Den- mark there is a local version of these guards with a large, broad 28 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es surface made of a thin Iron rod shaped into a figure eight. Some Scandinavian swords with horizontal quillons and side-rings abe imports from Passau and Solingen. On some of them the pommels are disc-shaped, on others scentstopper or pear-shaped, or spherical. A knuckle-bow is scarcely ever seen on these German types of swords, though it does occur on a few lansquenet swords, usually of t h e slightly curved and single-edged types. The knucklebow reaches only to the middle of the grip, where it is bent slightly outwaad as in Albrecht Durer's woodcuts of the Apocalypse of 1498. A vertical knuckleguard, also reachlng to the middle of the grip, appears o n some types of hand-and-half swords from Switzerland, but it differs from those on the lansquenet swords. On South JZuropean sabres, both those with a one-hand-and those with a hand-and-half grip simi- lar knucklebows already appear in the 15th century, for instance in the execution scene on m e of the paintings of the Spanish-Flemish painter Francisco Gallego on an altar-piece in the Museo Diocesano in the Old Cathedral at Salamanca. I t also shows how the index finger is laid in Latin fashion over the quillon. There are several other exam- ples of this most important manner of grasping a cutting weapon. Both in Spain and in Italy it is quite usual to find a knuckleguard combined with side-rings, a s shown in paintings by Pinturiccio. A fine example occurs in a picture of St. Michael from about 1473.81, now in Leipzig. Even here we find the index finger across the guard. The Germanic development with the hilt guarded by rings and branches lying horizontally is observable during the greater part of the 16th century and can be followed into the 17th. I n the latter part of the 16th century addit-onal hand protections make their ap- pearanoe in the form of more branches, rings and plates on both sides. These give a closed basket-hilt entirely horizontal in plane, a hilt providing complete protection t o the hand. I t is to be seen in Austrian and South German sidearms with a slightly curved or a stradght two-edged blade, introduced into Denmark and Norway in the early 17th century (dusagge or so-called Sinclair sabres). And we meet it in Jost Ammans woodcuts of lansquenets of the 1580's. Something similar applies to the Venetian schiavones (fig. 9) in which Latin and Slav elements are combined. Opposite the Germanic line is the Latin, with a hand guard pri- marily designed against the cut, but soon afterwards for the thrust too. The Latin line is diffused out over Europe, inter alia by the accession to the throne of Spain by the Habsburgs, by foreign diplo- mats and with the mercenaries of the various countries a n d soon brings its influence to bear upon the Germanic line too. Mixed forms arise. A certain combination of Latin and Germanic is to be found surface made of a thin iron rod shaped into a figure eight. Some Scandinavian swords with horizontal quillons and side-rings are imports from Passau and Solingen. On some of them the pommels are disc-~haped, on others scentstopper or pear-shaped, or spherical. A knuckle-bow is scarcely ever seen on these German types of swords, though it does occur on a few lansquenet swords, usually of the slightly curved and single-edged types. The knucklebow reaches only to the middle of the grip, where -it is bent slightly outward as in Albrecht Diirer's woodcuts of the Apocalypse of 1498. A vertical knuckle-guard, also reaching to the middle of the grip, appears on some types of hand-and-half swords from Switzerland, but it differs from those on the lansquenet swords. On South European sabres, both those with a one·hand-and those with a hand·and·half grip simi- lar knuckle-bows already appear in the 15th century, for instance in the execution scene on one of the paintings of the Spanish-Flemish painter Francisco Gallego on an altar-piece in the Museo Diocesano in the Old Cathedral at Salamanca. It also shows how the index finger is laid in Latin fashion over the quill on. There are several other exam- ples of this most important manner of grasping a cutting weapon. Both in Spain and in Italy it is quite usual to find a knuckleguard combined with side-rings, as shown in paintings by Pinturiccio. A fine example occurs in a picture of St. Michael from about 14.73-81, now in Leipzig. Even here we find the index finger across the guard. The Germanic development with the hilt guarded by rings and branches lying horizontally is observable during the greater part of the 16th century and can be followed into the 17th. In the latter part of the 16th century addiLonal hand protections make their ap' pearance in the form of more branches, rings and plates on both sides. These give a closed basket-hilt entirely horizontal in plane, a hilt providing complete protection to the hand. It is to be seen in Austrian and South German sidearms with a slightly curved or a straight two-edged blade, introduced into Denmark and Norway in the early 17th century (dusagge or so-called Sinciair sabres). And we meet it in Jost Ammans woodcuts of lansquenets of the 1580's. Something similar applies to the Venetian schiavones (fig. 9) in which Latin and Slav elements are combined. Opposite the Germanic line is the Latin, with a hand guard pri· marily designed against the cut, but soon afterwards for the thrust too. The Latin line is diffused out over Europe, inter alia by the accession to the throne of Spain by the Habsburgs, by foreign diplo- mats and with the mercenaries of the various countries and soon brings its influence to bear upon the Germanic line too. Mixed forms arise. A certain combination of Latin and Germanic is to be found 29 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es F i g . 9. a: Venetian sword, early 16th century, h . Venetian xhiuvonu, late 16th century (Coll. E. A . Christensen. E 160 and 5 5 ) . in the Low Countries, especially in Flemish rapiers (fig. 21). In ad- dition, there were currents from the Orient via Venice and across the Iberian peninsula. The Latin development IS more complicated than the Germanic, and more elegant. The typical South European sword with its wheel pommel, short grip and curved quillons ending in more or less rolled volutes towards thle edges of the blade can be traced in Italian and Spanish pictures from an early point of time. If the soldier is wear- ing mail gauntlets he must naturally hold h;s hilt with the four fingers together. But in several instances where the hand is bare we find three fingers around the grip itself whilst the index finger is laid Fil:. 9. a: Venetian sword, early 16th ceJ1tury, h: Venet;an schilll'ona, late 16th century (Coli. E. A. Christensen. E 1(,0 and (15). in the Low Countries, especially in Flemish rapiers (fig. 21). In ad- dition, there were currents from the Orient via Venice and across the Iberian peninsula. The Latin development is more complicated than the Germanic, and more elegant. The typical South European sword with its wheel pommel, short grip and curved quillons ending in more or less rolled volutes towards the edges of the blade can be traced in Italian and Spanish pictures from an early point of time. If the soldier is wear- ing mail gauntlets he must naturally hold h:s hilt with the four fingers together. But in several instances where the hand Is bare we find three fingers around the grip itself whilst the index finger is laid 30 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es across the foremost quillon. The examples of this are fairly nume- rous. Even on Sassanian silver bowls of the 4th-7th centuries A. D., the hand is holding the grip in that fashion tsee Gladius I, p. 65 ff). Curiously enough the swords bear a striking resemblance to t h e weapon of the crusaders. A s i m ~ l a r grip will be found in t h e aforesaid St. Gallen illumination of about 9010-950. A search of early MSS, will presumably add to the number of examples. T1here is one dating from about 1125, in ms. Nero C VI, now in the British Museum. Here again the index finger is laid across the guard. From 13th cen- tury is t h e fine example from Santa Lucia de Mur in Barcelona, Very clear is the Chinese water colour drawing of warriors in battle, from Yuan period (1260-13168). We see not only this hand grip on the holrse- man's sword but another warrior is holding a short sword with two protection rings instead of the quillons. This may be a, special way of holding cavalry swords, sometimes used in Central Asia. Byzantine- Russian 12th and 13th century ikons, e. g. a n ikon in the Archeological Museum a t Kiev, is displaying t h e same hand-grip for drawing t h e sword from the scabbard. Among the mosaics in St. Mark's, Venice, we find the same thing, for instance in t h e Capella de San Isidro, 14th century. Here the blade is remarkable, with a serrated e~dge. On an address from the town of Prato in Tuscany, 1335-40, to Robert of An- jou, king of SiciIy, we find t h e same hand-grip (Brit. Mus. Royal ms 6.E. IX). The frescoes in Santa camp^ a t Pisa, 1380-90, have it to10 just as the mural paintings from about 1400 in t h e cathedral of Mon- dofiedo, Spain. About the year 14010 it appears on a n alter-piece from Tessin, work by a North Italian master depicting the execution of a martyr-into the bargain on a hand-and-haIf sword. Other examples could be cited. I n most of the reproductions it is to be seen rather clear. ly that the blade has a talon, almost a ricasso below the quillons. I n actual fact a heel of th-S kind appears early in the archaeological material. A sword at Arlington, Virginia (H. Peterson collection) must date from early in t h e 13th century. Chronologically the1 type comes close to the Oldenborg sword but the details suggest a South Ehropean origin. The swords having inscriptions in Arabic are datable. The Royal Ontario Museum at Toronto, Canada, possesses two excellent speoimens of early, dated Italian swords with a strong ricasso, one from 1365, M. 976. I t is of t h e type characteristic of the middle of the 14th century and the sword itself is a trophy of the Italo- Frankish invasion of Elg~pt. The blade has a very distinct ricasso, as well as the designs along the margins that are characteristic of these blades. I n all probability this is a n Italian sword. (Cf. the two swords figs. 6-7 in Danish coll.) The same appliels to M. 973 in t h e same museum, but dated t o the time prior to 1426, taken a s booty by across the foremost quillon. The examples of this are fairly nume- rous. Even on Sassanian silver bowls of the 4th-7th centuries A. D., the hand is holding the grip in that fashion (see Gladius I, p. 65 ff). CuriouslY enough the swords bear a striking resemblance to the weapon of the crusaders. A similar grip will be found in the aforesaid St. Gallen illumination of about 900-950. A search of early MSS. will presumably add to the number of examples. There is one dating from about 1125, in ms. Nero C VI. now in the British Museum. Here again the index finger is laid across the guard. From 13th cen- tury is the fine example from Santa Lucia de Mur in Barcelona. Very clear is the Chinese water colour d!awing of warriors in battle, from Yuan period (1260-1368). We see not only this hand'grip on the horse- man's sword but another warrior is holding a short sword with two protection rings instead of the quillons. This may be a special way of holding cavalry swords, sometimes used in central Asia. Byzantine- Russian 12th and 13th century ikons, e. g. an ikon in the Archeological Museum at Kiev, is displaying the same hand-grip for drawing the sword from the scabbard. Among the mosaics in St. Mark's, Venice, we find the same thing, for instance in the Capella de San Isidro, 14th century. Here the blade is remarkable, with a serrated edge. On an address from the town of Prato in Tuscany, 1335·40, to Robert of An- jou, king of Sicily, we find the same hand-grip (Brit. Mus. Royal ms 6E. IX). The frescoes in Santa Campc at Pisa, 1380·90, have it too just as the mural paintings from about 1400 in the cathedral of Mon- doiiedo, Spain. About the year 1400 it appears on an alter-piece from Tessin, work by a North Italian master depicting the execution of a martyr-into the bargain on a hand-and-half sword. Other examples could be cited. In most of the reproductions it is to be seen rather clear. ly that the blade has a talon, almost a ricasso below the quillons. In actual fact a heel of th:s kind appears early in the archaeological material. A sword at Arlington, Virginia (H. Peterson collection) must date from early in the 13th century. Chronologically the type comes close to the Oldenborg sword but the details suggest a South European origin. The swords having inscriptions in Arabic are datable. The Royal Ontario Museum at Toronto, canada, possesses two excellent speoimens of early, dated Italian swords with a strong ricasso, one from 1365, M. 976. It is of the type characteristic of the middle of the 14th century and the sword itself is a trophy of the Italo- Frankish invasion of Egypt. The blade has a very distinct ricasso, as well as the designs along the margins that are characteristic of these blades. In all probability this is an Italian swcrd. (Cf. the two swords figs. 6-7 in Danish coIl.) The same applies to M. 973 in the same museum, but dated to the time prior to 1426, taken as booty by 31 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Barsbey during his invasion of Cyprus. This sword has a pear-shaped pommel, whereas most swords bearing Arabic inscriptions have wheel pommels. A long, slender biade in the Musee de 1'Armee in Paris ( J . 13) must also date from about 1400; this too has a ricasso, though it is less pronounced than on the two Toronto swords. From this to furn- , ishing the underside of the quillons with a guard ring for the index finger is merely a short step. And actually one of the earliest exam- ples of it is to be seen on another of Barsbey's trophy swords from Cyprus, formerly in the collection of Baron de Cosson, then in the Hearst collection, now in the Tower of London. The sword is dated 1432 but is part of Barsbey's booty from his Cyprus raid in 1426. In a paper on the sword of Fernando el mtolico in the Capilla Real of Granada cathedral, the prominent Spanish archaeologist D. Mlanuel Gomex Moreno holds that this kind of quillons is a Spanish invention and that it dates presumably from about the middle of the 15th century (fig. 10). In all probability, however, it was introduced much earlier. Just up until the 13th century the Spanish Moslems wore the same types of weapons as did the warriors of Christian Spain. But in th,e 13th century the Hispano-Arab panoplie completely changed. We hear about it in the Chronicles of Alfonso el Sabio. Weapons and the use of weapons changed and the manner of ccpelear a la jinetan was introduced by the cavalry of the Bmu Marin tribes, in the service of Mohamad I of Granada. The S~panish Moslems willingly adopted the methods introduced by the African horsemen. Their equipment from now consisted of a solid broad sword, lance, shield and body protection (Exercicios de la gineta, Madrid, 1641). Though the use of jineta-swords is represented in pictorial art of the 14th oentury no sword from this century seems to exist. The outstanding and rich series of Hispano-Arab swords now preserved in various museums and collections in Spain, France, and U. S. A. belong to the 15th century. The type of sword had originally been introduced for the Moorish cavalry, but very soon it was adopted by Christian knights, and used by certain branches of the cavalry in Spain (Gla- dius I, p. 49, fig. 7 ) . In his paper on Granadine Arabian warfare, published i n Arch. Espafiol de Arte 1943, the famous Spanish orienta- list D. Jose Ferrmdis Torres, dernonstratea that the origin of these Moorish swords with their extremely short hilts and the particular method of holding them doubtless lay in the Near East. Possibly we have to look for it among the Sasanids and the Arabs (Gla- dius I, p. 46 ff). The new type of sword contributed towards a complete renewal of the ancient hilt. The new hand-grip called for a stout and convenient ricasso for the sake of the index finger, and so it led to a notch in the edge of Barsbey during his invasion of Cyprus. This sword has a pear-shaped ponunel, whereas most swords bearing Arabic inscriptions have wheel pommels. A long, slender blade in the Musee de l'Armee in Paris (J. 13) must also date from about 1400; this too has a ricasso, though it is less pronounced than on the two Toronto swords. From this to furn- • ishing the underside of the quillons with a guard ring for the index finger is merely a short step. And actually one of the earliest exam- ples of it is to be seen on another of Barsbey's trophy swords from Cyprus, formerly in the collection of Baron de Cosson, then in the Hearst collection, now in the Tower of London. The sword is dated 1432 but is part of Barsbey's booty from his Cyprus raid in 1426. In a paper on the sword of Fernando el Cat6lico in the Capilla Real of Granada cathedral, the prominent Spanish archaeologist D. M1amuel G6mez Moreno holds that this kind of quillons is a Span;sh invention an'i that it dates presumably from about the middle of the 15th century (fig. 10). In all probability, however, it was introduced much earlier. Just up until the 13th century the Spanish Moslems wore the same types of weapons as did the warriors of Christian Spain. But in the 13th century the Hispano-Arab panoplie completely changed. We hear about it in the Chronicles of Alfonso el Sabio. Weapons and the use of weapons changed and the manner of «pelear a la jinetall was introduced by the cavalry of the Benu Marin tribes, in the service of Mohamad I of Granada. The Spanish Moslems Willingly adopted the methods introduced by the African horsemen. Their equipment from now consisted of a solid broad sword, lance, shield and body protection (Exercicios de la gineta, Madrid, 1641). Though the use of jineta-swords is represented in pictorial art of the 14th century no sword from this century seems to exist. The outstanding and rich series of Hispano-Arab swords now preserved in various museums and collections in Spain, France, and U. S. A. belong to the 15th century. The type of sword had originally been introduced for the Moorish cavalry, but very soon it was adopted by Christian knights, and used by certain branches of the cavalry in Spain (Gla- dius I, p. 49, fig. n In his paper on Granadine Arabian warfare, published in Arch. Espafiol de Arte 1943, the famous Spanish orienta- list D. Jose Ferrandis Torres, demonstrated that the origin of these Moorish swords with their extremely short hilts and the particular method of holding them doubtless lay in the Near East. Possibly we have to look for it among the Sassanids and the Arabs (Gla- dius I, p. 46 ff). The new type of sword contributed towards a complete renewal of the ancient hilt. The new hand-grip called for a stout and convenient ricasso for the sake of the index finger, and so it led to a notch in the edge of 32 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 10. Sword of El Rey Fernando el Catblico, late 15th century. Golden hilt with traces of black enamel; possibly Florentine workmanship. Blade shortened and ill-treated Ricmso and point cut away centuries age. (Capi- Ila Real, Granada Cathedral). Vig. 10. Sl\lord of El Rey Fernando el Catolico, late 15th century. Golden hilt with traces of black enamel; possibly Florentine workmanship. Blade shortened and ill-treated Ricasso and point cut away centuries ag"O. (Capi- /la Real, Granada Cathedral). 33 3 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es the blade or in tha ricasso itself, such as is to be seen in some blades in the Real Armerza in Madrid and in a number of infantry swords in the Arsenal at Venice, dated to the close of the 15th century. Then came the guard-ring below the foremolst quillon, as on the sword with Arabic inscription in the Tower. This ring is frequently shown in Spanish and Italian art of the 15th century. In the retable in the cathedral of Leon is a painting of NiooMs Francds, of before 1435, with a similar ring and below horizontal quillons. Two sepulchral monuments, dating from about 1467, one a t Guaclalupe and one at San Gines, in Guadalajara, have similar swords. On the tomb of the constable Alvlarez de Luna in Toledo cathedral, set up after 1453, there is the same detail but with curved quilIons. I t also appears at Va- lencia on a picture by the Marti de Torres master of St. Martin, painted about 1443. From about the middle of the 15th century two rings are not uncommon in Valencian paintings. The same is to be seen in paintings of F m a n d o Gallego and his school, in Pedro Fernandez of Seville and in Bartolomeo Bermejo, for instance in his large painting of Santo Dorningo de Silos of about 1470, now in the Prado Museum in Madrid. In this picture, as indeeld in most of the others, we see the wheel pommel with the concave panels that is familiar inter alia from some swords in the Metropolitan Museum in New York, from about 1450, and a number olf Spanish swords in other mu- seums. Bermejo gives a clear rendering of the quillons and the pas-d'8ne; the blade has a ricasso and a sharp grat with a strong, reinforced point. Round about 14601-70 the same is to be seen in several paintings by the Portuguese artist NuAo Gomdes (examples e. h. in the art gallery in Lisbon). On the other hand it is rarely met with in Catalan a n d French art. Swords with two pas-d'8nes are also depicted on several of the large Spanish tombs, for example that of the Infante Xfonso at Cartuja de Mirajlores near Burgos, a work of Gil de Siloe. About 1450 and in the subsequent period the type occurs frequentIy in Italian pictures. In Signorelli's frescoes in Orvieto cathedral we find it, as well as some very early examples of the knuckle-bow. These swords are on the whole very common in Tuscan art in the latter half of the 15th century, for example on Nicolo da Bari's monument t o Santo Domingo at Bologna, about 1478. The painters Ghirlandaio, Perugino, Botticelli and Raphael have the motif (Raphael's picture of The Vision of Sdpio Africanus in the National Gallery, London). With a knuckle bow and two pas-d'8nes we find the hilt of a sword in the illuminations of the Statutes f o ~ Los Caba- llero~s de la Hermandad de Santiago (founded at Burgos in 1338), executed about 1490.99. As I have said, the starting point of Grjmex Moreno's theories the blade or in the ricasso itself, such as is to be seen in some blades in the Real Armeria in Madrid and in a number of infantry swords in the Arsenal at Venice, dated to the close of the 15th century. Then came the guard-ring below the foremost quillon, as on the sword with Arabic inscription in the Tower. This ring is frequently shown in Spanish and Italian art of the 15th century. In the retable in the cathedral of Lean is a painting of Nicolcis Frances, of before 1435, with a similar ring and below horizontal quillons. Two sepulchral monuments, dating from about 1467, one at Guadalupe and one at San Gines, in Guadalajara, have similar swords. On the tomb of the constable Alvcirez de Luna in Toledo cathedral, set up after 1453, there is the same detail but with curved quillons. It also appears at Va· lencia on a picture by the Marti de Torres master of St. Martin, painted about 1443. From about the middle of the 15th century two rings are not uncommon in Valencian paintings. The same is to be seen in paintings of Fernando Gallego and his school, in Pedro Ferncindez of Seville and in Bartolomeo Bermejo, for instance in his large painting of Santo Domingo de Silos of about 1470, now in the Prado Museum in Madrid. In this picture, as indeed in most of the others, we see the wheel pommel with the concave panels that is familiar inter alia from some swords in the Metropolitan Museum in New York, from about 1450, and a number of Spanish swords in other mu- seums. Bermejo gives a clear rendering of the quillons and the pas·d'ane; the blade has a ricasso and a sharp grat with a: strong, reinforced point. Round about 1460-70 the same is to be seen in several paintings by the Portuguese artist Nuno Gonzales (examples e. h. in the art gallery in Lisbon). On the other hand it is rarely met with in Catalan and French art. Swords with two pas-d'anes are also depicted on several of the large Spanish tombs, for example that of the Infante Alfonso at Cartuja de Miraflores near Burgos, a work of Gil de Siloe. About 1450 and in the subsequent periOd the type occurs frequently in Italian pictures. In Signorelli's frescoes in Orvieto cathedral we find it, as well as some very early examples of the knuckle-bow. These swords are on the whole very common in Tuscan art in the latter half of the 15th century, for example on Nicolo da Bari's monument to Santo Domingo at Bologna, about 1478. The painters Ghirlandaio, Perugino, Botticelli and Raphael have the motif (Raphael's picture of The Vision of Scipio Africanus in the National Gallery, London). With a knuckle bow and two pas-d'anes we find the hilt of a sword in the illuminations of the Statutes for Los Caba- lleros de la Hermandad de Santiago (founded at Burgos in 1338), executed about 1490-99. As I have said, the starting point of G6mez Moreno's theories 34 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es was the sword of Fernando el Cat~lzco in the Capilla Real, Granada (fig. 10). In the royal and municipal archives of Simmcas and Granada this sword has been mentioned and discussed ever s i ~ c e the death of Fernsndo in 1516. This costly sword which has suffered badly i n the course of time, with ~ t s bicanical pommel, curved quillons and t h e two prctection rings-in the shape of a snake-is of a form unusual in Spain. The pommel type is strange to the Iberian peninsula but com- mon i n Tuscany, especially in Florence, and an examination of the goldplated hilt and its ornamentation seems to show that it is F b r m - tine goldsm-th's work. But the blade may be Spanish. The ricasso is now lacking, because a t some time or other the upper part of the blade has been shortened. The whole type of the sword is Tuscan, dating from the latte~r quarter of the 15th century. From these swords with pas-d'8ne below the quillons it is no long step to the next protective measure, the two small pitons, iron tiges cnding in small knobs projecting from the lower ends of the pas-dkne. They were possibly inspired by the Moroccan swords of about the same period. On the Italian and French swords of this type, from about 152030, the pitons are sometimes connected on the guard side by a ring, in which a small notch or hollow often is to be seen, which acts as a kind of stop for the thrusting blade. Apparently this notch dropped out of use about 1540-45 and only reappeared towards the end of the 16th century in the form of a small plate. The late French collector M. Georges Pauilhac together with M. Robert-Jean CharJes were the f.rst to notice it and gave it the name of etrier a pattes, in order not to confuse it with the small sidering with its plate later on. On the opposite side of this ring two small stems project like hooks. Whereas Spanish sidearms of the early period often have only pitons, Italian sidearms of the same period in stead of pitons have a ring, especially in Venice. Buttin drew attention to this and suggested that the Spanish form was due to influence from Moroccan swords, whereas the Venetian came from the Arabian. Communications between Italy - especially Venice - and the Arabian world were very brisk in the 15th century. Venice had made herself mistress of Cypros (1489) and had trading offices and stores both in Fama Gusta and in Alexandria for commerce with the Arabian countries 2nd the India via Aden. To the Iberian peninsula however pitons came via North Africa with the Berber horsemen. There are fine specimens of the Spanish form i. a. in the Real A r m r i a , Madrid, on Nos, G 29, 30 and 31. The first two swords belonged to Ei gran Capitan, Golzxalo de Cordoba, the great general and military organizer. The pommel of G 29 is disc-shaped, the quillons are curved downwards with pas-Cane and pitons, the blade has a ricasso. The decoration of the pommel is Italian rends- was the sword of Fernando el Cat6lico in the Capilla Real, Granada (fig. 10). In the royal and municipal archives of Simancas and Granada this sword has been mentioned and discussed ever since the death of Fernmdo in 1516. This costly sword which has suffered badly in the course of time, with its biconical pommel, curved quillons and the two prctection rings-in the shape of a snake-is of a form unusual in Spain. The pommel type is strange to the Iberian peninsula but com- mon in Tuscany, especially in Florence, and an examination of the gold plated hilt and its ornamentation seems to show that it is Floren- tine goldsm:th's work. But the blade may be Spanish. The ricasso is now lacking, b€~ause at some time or other the upper part of the blade has been shortened. The wholfJ type of the sword is Tuscan, dating from the latter quarter of the 15th century. From these swords with pas·d'ane below the quillons it is no long step to the next protective measure, the two small pitons, iron tiges E;nding in small knobs projecting from the lower ends of the pas-dane. They were possibly inspired by the Moroccan swords 01' about the same period. On the Italian and French swords of this type, from about 1520-30, the pitons are sometimes connected on the guard side by a ring, in which a small notch or hollow often is to be seen, which acts as a kind of stop for the thrusting blade. Apparently this notch dropped out of use about 1540·45 and only reappeared towards the end of the 16th century in the form of a small plate. The late French collector M. Georges Pauilhac together with M. Robert-Jean Charles were the Lrst to notice it and gave it the name of etrier a pattes, in order not to confuse it with the small sidering with its plate later on. On the opposite side of this ring two small stems project like hooks. Whereas Spanish sidearms of the early period often have only pitons, Italian sidearms of the same period in stead of pitons have a ring, especially in Venice. Buttin drew attention to this and suggested that the Spanish fonn was due to influence from Moroccan swords, whereas the Venetian came from the Arabian. Communications between Italy - especially Venice - and the Arabian world were very brisk in the 15th century. Venice had made herself mistress of Cypros (489) and had trading offices and stores both in Fama Gusta and in Alexandria for commerce with the Arabian countries and the India via Aden. To the Iberian peninsula however pitons came via North Afr:ca with the Berber horsemen. There are fine specimens of the Spanish form 1. a. in the Real Armeria, Madrid, on Nos, G 29, 30 and 31. The first two swords belonged to El gran CapiLli-n, Gonzalo de Cordoba, the great general and military organizer. The pommel of G 29 is disc-shaped, the quillons are curved downwards with pas-d'ane and pitons, the blade has a ricasso. The decoration of the pommel is Italian renais- 35 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es sance and depicts the victory of Gonzalo over the French at Cannae in 1503, as the inscription proudly announces. The third sword be- longed to Femando el Catolico and is of the same type (the blade signed by Antonius). In the Znstituto del Conde Valencia de Dun Juan there is another such sword, No. 59, signed by Cathaldo, who was also the maker of the sword of Frans I of France, in Paris. Of about the same period we find a n Italian type represented by a number of estocs in the Pa:axxo Capodimonte at Naples (fig. 11). Among them the most remarkable is a specimen which last century was furnished with an ins~cription attributing it to Ettore Fieramolsca of Capua, born about the end of the 15th century and died in Valla- dolid in 1515. Tradition has it that the sword was carried by this great soldier in the Battle of Barletta in 1503, a dating which seems too early; it would be reasonable to put the period to about 1510-20. The Fig. 11. Italian cstoc, about 1510 20. Attributed to Ettore Fiermnosca di Capua, w h o died in VallrrdoEid in Spain in 1515. (Palazzo C a p d i - monte, Naples). sance and depicts the victory of Gonzalo over the French at Cannae in 1503, as the inscription proudly announces. The third sword be- longed to Fernando el Cat6lico and is of the same type (the blade signed by Antonius). In the Instituto del Conde Valencia de Don Juan there is another such sword, No. 59, signed by Cathaldo, who was also the maker of the sword of Frang I of France, in Paris. Of about the same period we find an Italian type represented by a number of estocs in the Pa!azzo Capodimonte at Naples (fig. 11). Among them the most remarkable is a specimen which last century was furnished with an inscription attributing it to Ettore Fieramosca oj Capua, born about the end of the 15th century and died in Valla- dolid in 1515. Tradit:on has it that the sword was carried by this great soldier in the Battle of Barletta in 1503, a dating which seems too early; it would be reasonable to put the period to about 1510-20. The Fi~. 11. Italian eslOc. about 1510 20. Attributed to Ettore Fieramosca di Capua. who died in ValladoNd in Spain in 1515. (Palazzo Capodi- monte, Naples). 36 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es sword is a finer specimen than the others of similar Italian types at Capodimonte. Several more are: now in the Musee de 1'ArmCe in Paris. Similar types of blades are also to be found on the swords men- tioned by Buttin in his article on La Vale~nciana in ct Armes Anciennesn, 3,1954. The most remarkable specimen, acquired by Reubell, * has been proved to have belonged to Carlos V. I t is reproduced in Inventario Iluminado and described in Relacion de Valladolid. According to these documents Carlos V had a store of 24 of them, presumably intended for the emperor's courtiers. Most of them must have been stolen in 1808 when the mob plundered the Armeria Real; three specimens now remain thelre-besides the Reubell sword. The latter h a s a wheel pommel, horizontaJ. Srshaped quillons which a t the ends spread out into wide, volutelike scrolls. There are also pas-d'he and pitons. The blade is signed by J u a n el Viejo, who worked both at Valencia and at Tolerlo; the majority of these swords had Valencian blades. The three specimens in the hrmeria display the Valencian signatures IOANNES ME FECIT and the famous Salvador. Buttin, however, supposes that the type should be attributed to Venice, not t o Valencia, and that it should rightly be called Veneziana; his argument is that the earliest specimen known to him appears in Carpaccio's picture of the martyrdom of Santa Ursula in the Accademia Reale, Venice, dated 1480, where this very type is shown. The blade is much like the aforesaid Neapolitan blades, but on it the lower ends of the pas-d'he are joined by means of a ring in the Venetian manner. ITowever, there is a very closely related sword with the same torsion of the quillons and with pasrd'8neLbut differing slightly in the pommel- in a Spanish painting of about 1470, by an anonymous artist, i n the Fine Art Gallery in Copenhagen. In addition to the pas-d'he other forms of hand protectors make their appearance in the 15th century. At any rate pictorial represen- tations sometimes include the horizontal sidering on the cross, though frequently differing in form from the Germanic. I t occurs here and there in Spanish manuscripts of the first quarter of the 15th century, but generally speaking only in the countries North of the Alps and East of the Rhine is it common. From these basic forms progress is made in the course of the following sixty years, so that the complete r a p k hilt with its compli- cated guard branches culminates at about the 1560-70's. I n his article in Revue Historique de E'Armbe, 1947 Robert-Jean Charles essayed to clarify the evolution elf the hilt and its branches, and to show how a hilt can be dated with very brief intervals from the nature and * This sward is now in Inst. de Valencia de Don Juan (no 213). sword is a finer specimen than the others of similar Italian types at Capodimonte. Several more are now in the Musee de l'Armee in Paris. Similar types of blades are also to be found on the swords men- tioned by Buttin in his article on La Valonciana in «Armes Anciennesll, 3, 1954. The most remarkable specimen, acquired by Reubell, * has been proved to have belonged to Carlos V. It is reproduced in Inventario lluminado and described in Relaci6n de Valladolid. According to these documents Carlos V had a store of 24 of them, presumably intended for the emperor's courtiers. Most of them must have been stolen in 1808 when the mob plundered the Armeria Real; three specimens now remain there-besides the Reubell sword. The latter has a wheel pommel, horizontal S-shaped quillons which at the ends spread out into wide, volute-like scrolls. There are also pas-d'ane and pitons. The blade is signed by Juan el Viejo, who worked both at Valencia and at Toledo; the majority of these swords had Valencian blades. The three specimens in the Armeria display the Valencian signatures IOANNES ME FECIT and the famous Salvador. Buttin, however, supposes that the type should be attributed to Venice, not to Valencia, and that it should rightly be called Veneziana; his argument is that the earliest specimen known to him appears in Carpaccio's picture of the ma.rtyrdom of Santa. Ursula in the Accademia Reale, Venice, dated 1480, where this very type is shown. The blade is much like the aforesaid Neapolitan blades, but on it the lower ends of the pas-d'ane are joined by means of a ring in the Venetian manner. However, there is a very closely related sword with the same torsion of the quillons and with pas-d'an&"-but differing slightly in the pommel- in a Spanish painting of about 1470, by an anonymous artist, in the Fine Art Gallery in Copenhagen. In addition to the pas-d'ane other forms of hand protectors make their appearance in the 15th century. At any rate pictorial represen- tations sometimes include the horizontal sidering on the cross, though frequently differing in form from the Germanic. It occurs here and there in Spanish manuscripts of the first quarter of the 15th century, but generally speaking only in the countries North of the Alps and East of the Rhine is it common. From these basic forms progress is made in the course of the following sixty years, so that the complete rapier hilt with its compli. catedguard branches culminates at about the 1560-70's. In his article in Revue Historique de l'Armee, 1947 Robert-Jean Charles essayed to Clarify the evolution of the hilt and its branches, and to show how a hilt can be dated with very brief intervals from the nature and • This sword is now in Inst. de Valencia de Don Juan (no 213). 37 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es F i g . 12. a-b: Italian cword, early 16th century. P o m m e l and quill on^ of gilt i t a n . ( C o l l . H . B r o n ~ H a n ~ e n , Hillerod, Denmark). placing of the branches. Although one cannot of course proceed too rigoristically in attempting a dating, the position of the branches does help greatly to determine the period and sometimes also the nationality. FiK. 12. a-b: Italian sword, ellrly 16th century. Pommel and quil/ol1.\' 0/ Kilt i/'.m. (Coil. H. Brons Han.\'{'l/, Hillerod, Denmark). placing of the branches. Although one cannot of course proceed too rigoristically in attempting a dating, the position of the branches does help greatly to determine the period and sometimes also the nationality. 38 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Before turning to the further evolution from sword to rapier I would mention a sma,ll group of I t a l i a n thrusting swords. The form is mediaeval but in several instances the decoration is pure Re- naissance. Their common feature is the sharp thrusting blade, wide at the top, with a prominent grat down to the point. The quillons are well curved and often terminate in volutes. The grip is short and the pommel usually disc-shaped, though sometimes lenticular and ornamented with a mussel-shell or rosette. Forerunners of these swords are those such as A r m e r i a Real, M a d r i d G 23 and the bu&a.l sword of Henry V in Westminster Abbey, of the latter half of the 15th century. The most distinguished representative of the type is the richly ornamented and costly specimen which once belonged to C e s a r e Borghia. D u k e of R o m a g n a a n d V a l e n t i n o , now in the possession of the Duke of Simoneta. The wheel pommel is adorned with ornaments of pure Renaissance, with cloissonne work and filigree on gilt copper. The blade is signed by E r c o l e d e i Fideli of Ferrarra. The sword seems to have been made in the period 1490-1500. There are other specimens in Italian, Spanish and French collections and museums, including one in the M u s e o Laxaro G a l d i a n o in M a d r i d . An excellent specimen of this type of sword is to be found in the outstanding Dlanish collection of mr. H . B r o n s H a n s e n , Hillerod (fig. 12). This sword, of Italian workmanship, has a fine and characteristic blade, the length of which is 82 cm. largesl width 8 cm. the total length including grip 97,5 cm. The point is sharp and strong, and the blade has the characte- rlstic fullers, strong midrib in lower part and reinforced point. Beauti- ful and rich ornamentation with scrolls, flowers and masks still with good traces of gilding has been preserved. The grip, pommel and quillons are of gilt iron, with pommel in the shape of a faun-mask, and with faun-masks at the ends of the quillons. Related to this type of swords are the baselards or cinquedeas (fig. 13), with almost triangular blades, sometimes with a reinforced prismatic point and with rich etchings and gildings, very curved quillons, short grip and lenticular or wheel pommels. The Venetian specimens are of characte- ristic form with their special type of grip and with pierced ornaments at the rivet-holes in s style reminiscent of wood carvings from Baghdad and the Moorish palaces in Arag6n (Zaragoza), and Andalucia from the 15th century. The best blades in the cinquedeas were made by Ercole Grmdi and Ercole dei Fideli of Ferrarra. Even Florence and parti- cularly Verona were famous for their cinquedeas. I n Venezia they seem to have been the swords of the archers, particularly from about 1520. In their shape they are almost copies of the antique parazo- nium Before turning to the further evolution from sword to rapier I would mention -a. small group of Italian thrusting swords. The form is mediaeval but :n several instances the decoration is pure Re· naissance. Their common feature is the sharp thrusting blade, wide at the top, with a prominent grat down to the point. The quillons are well curved and often terminate in volutes. The grip is short and thfl pommel usually disc-shaped, though sometimes lenticular and ornamented with a mussel-shell or rosette. Forerunners of these swords are those such as Armeria Real, Madrid G 23 and the bur'al sword of Henry V in Westminster Abbey, of the latter half of the 15th century. The most distinguished representative of the type is the richly ornamented and costly specimen which once belonged to cesare Borghia. Duke of Romagna and Valentino, now in the possession of the Duke of Simoneta. The wheel pommel is adorned with ornaments of pure Renaissance, with cloissonne work and filigree on gilt copper. The blade is signed by Ercole dei Fideli of Ferrarra. The sword seems to have been made in the period 1490-1500. There are other specimens in Italian, Spanish and French collections and museums, including one in the Museo Lazaro Galdiano in Madrid. An excellent specimen of this type of sword is to be found in the outstanding Danish collection of mr. H. BrOns Hansen, Hillerod (fig. 12). This sword, of Italian workmanship, has a fine and characteristic blade, the length of which is 82 cm. largest width 8 cm. the total length including grip 97,5 cm. The point is sharp and strong, and the blade has the characte- r:stic fullers, strong midrib in lower part and reinforced point. Beauti· ful and rich ornamentation with scrolls, flowers and masks still with good traces of gilding has been preserved. The grip, pommel -and quillons are of gilt iron, with pommel in the shape of a faun-mask, and with faun-masks at the ends of the quillons. Related to this type of swords are the baselards or cinquedeas (fig. 13), with almost triangular blades, sometimes with a reinforced prismatic point and with rich etchings and gildings, very curved quillons, short grip and lenticular or wheel pommels. The Venetian specimens are of characte- ristic form with their special type of grip and with pierced ornaments at the rivet-holes in a style reminiscent of wood carvings from Baghdad and the Moorish palaces in Arag6n (Zaragoza), and Andalucia from the 15th century. The best blades in the cinquedeas were made by Ercole Grandi and Ercole dei Fideli of Ferrarra. Even Florence and parti· culnly Verona were famous for their cinquedeas. In Venezia they seem to have been the swords of the archers, particularly from about 1520. In their shape they are almost copies of the antique parazo- mum. 39 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 13. Italian cinquedea, about 1525. Quillons modern. Said to have belonged to a Danish n o b l e m m o f the Rantzau fami- l y , w h o brought it home f r o m his tra- vel in Italy a b u t 1528. ( N a t . Mus. Copenhagen. 10115, mus. for.). Scientific fencing The fact that sword hilts were on the eve of such a rapid develop- ment was a result not merely of the strategy, the gre~at importance of the infantry, the new fashion of wearing expensive and beautiful sidearms to court and civilian dress, but very much of the systemiz- ation of the art of fencing and the period's interest in that art. A s I. .. Fig. /3. /talion cinqucdca, about 1525. QllillOIlS modem. Said 10 have belonged 10 a DOllish Ilobleman of Ihe RanIZ(JI/ fami- ly, who brought il home from his tra- vcl in llaly about 1528. (Nat. Mus. Copenhagcn. 10115, mus. fot.) . SCientific fencing The fact that sword hilts were on the eve of such a rapid develop- ment was a result not merely of the strategy, the great importance of the infantry, the new fashion of wearing expensive and beautiful sidearms to court and civilian dress, but very much of the systemiz- ation of the art of fencing and the period's interest in that art. As 40 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es early as in 1295 the Italian del Serpente of Milano had written a work on the technique of fencing. Almost a century later came Fior di Bat- taglia, Flos Duellatorum (published a t Bergamo i n 1910). Fencing masters are mentioned in Italy in the 14th century, where they give instruction in agility exercises, cunning and tricks likely to come in useful when duelling. I n t h e 15th century fencing academies were an established fact, i. a. at Milan, Venice and Verona. But fencing then was based upon hewing and hand-to-hand fighting; i t was only systematized later. There were two styles in the 16th oentury, the Spanish a n d the Italian. Scientific works on the art appeared in Spain at t h e end of the 15th century, for instance t h e manuscript works in 1472 and 1474 respectively. They were La verdadera esgrima y el arte de esgrimir by Juan de Pons, Mallorca, and El manejo de ilas Armas de Combate by Pedro de ia Torre (Petrus Turrus) of Seville. These two works are no longer extant but are known from numerous quotations in later fencing books. To these two authors fencing was actually a science. A special category of fencing masters, Tenientes examinado?es de la destrexa de las armas was organized through a special ordinance of 1478 by the Catholic king and queen. Los Reyes Catolicos. A document of high interest is kept in Cordoba: Orde- nanxas para 10s maestros de esgrima from 1512. I n 1532 Francisco Roman of Seville issued a work (now lost) Tratado de la Esgrima which had an important bearing upon developments i n Spain. A continuation of his work appeared in 1569 by the fencing master Hieronimo de C a l ' a ~ n ~ a of Seville. He was the real founder of Spanish fencing, which followed a different course from the Italian and t h e later French. His work, Especulacion de l a Dlestrexa was re-issued in Lisbon in 1582 and in Madrid in 1600.. I t was based upon a number of sciences such as philosophy, medicine, astronomy, music and others, but particularly upon geometry. His theories, which are difficult to follow, were elaborated by his eminent disciplle Luts Pacheco de Narvaex of Baeza, who wrote a number of works, including Libro de las grandezas de la Espada, which appeared i n Madrid i n 16W. T h e 17th century saw the publication of other writers' works. It was according to the principles laid down by these scientific fencing masters that the Spanish rapiers were evolved. I n its later period especially, fencing there developed along a line t h a t differed from that of other countries. The evolution of t h e very long rapier la esp& de lazo o del Emperador and t h e cuphilt rapier, together with other long sidearms must be seen o n the background of t h e strictly scientific method with its geometrical, well studied molvements. Matters were different in Italy. Four years after Francisco R o m W s work there appeared in Modena in 1536 the Italian work Opera Nova early as in 1295 the Italian del Serpente of Milano had written a work on the technique of fencing. Almost a century later came Fior di Bat- taglia, Flos Duellatorum (published at Bergamo in 1910). Fencing masters are mentioned in Italy in the 14th century, where they give instruction in agility exercises, cunning and tricks likely to come in useful when duelling. In the 15th century fencing academies were an established fact, i. a. at Milan, Venice and Verona. But fencing then was based upon hewing and hand-to-hand fighting; it was only systematized later. There were two styles in the 16th century, the Spanish a,nd the Italian. SCientific works on the art appeared in Spain at the end of the 15th century, for instance the manuscript works in 1472 and 1474 respectively. They were La verdadera esgrima y el arte de esgrimir by Juan de Pons, Mallorca, and El manejo de las Armas de Combate by Pedro de la Torre (Petrus Turrus) of Seville. These two works are no longer extant but are known from numerous quotations in later fencing books. To these two authors fencing was actually a science. A special category of fencing masters, Tenientes examinadores de la destreza de las armas was organized through a special ordinance of 1478 by the Catholic king and queen. Los Reyes Cat6licos. A document of high interest is kept in Cordoba: Orde· nanzas para los maestros de esgrima from 1512. In 1532 Francisco Roman of Seville issued a work (now lost) Tratado de la Esgrima which had an important bearing upon developments in Spain. A continuation of his work appeared in 1569 by the fencing master Hier6nimo de Caranca of Seville. He was the real founder of Spanish fencing, which followed a different (Oourse from the Italian and the later French. His work, Especulaci6n de la Destreza was re-issued in Lisbon in 1582 and in Madrid in 1600. It was based upon a number of sciences such as philosophy, medicine, astronomy, music and others, but particularly upon geometry. His theories, which are difficult to follow, were elaborated by his eminent disciple Luis Pacheco de Narvaez of Baeza, who wrote a number of works, including Libro de las grandezas de la Espada, which appeared in Madrid in 1600. The 17th century saw the publir.ation of other writers' works. It was according to the principles laid down by these scientific fencing masters that the Spanish rapiers were evolved. In its later period especially, fencing there developed along a line that differed from that of other countries. The evolution of the very long rapier la espada de lazo 0 del Emperador and the cuphilt rapier, together with other long sidearms must be seen on the background of the strictly scientific method with its geometrical, well studied movements. Matters were different in Italy. Four years after Francisco Roman's work there appeared in Modena in 1536 the Italian work Opera Nova 41 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Chiamata Duel10 overo Fiore dell'Armi by fencing master Achille Maroxzo, one that became of great importance to the evolution of the sword hilt. He put the art of fencing into system in a relatively precise way. Although a s yet it was based chiefly upon the cut, i. a. fencing with the two-hand sword, with a rapier or striscia (as was the Italian name to the long and slender rapiers), with rapier and shield, shafted weapons and even daggers, though this little weapon is cnly sparsely mentioned, he attached great importance to the shape and the construction of the quillons and the manner of grasping the hilt and the quillons with one or two fingers over the quillons. In his illustrations h e demonstrates the various positions and movements. W s work received so much appreciation that it appeared in a number of editions in rapid succession. By the year of 1540 the swcrd hilt had acquired a veritable but still rather simple counter-guard, but as yet the bows did not reach up over the cross. During the subsequent twenty or thirty years events moved only slowly. Between 1560-and 1570 the bows of the counter-guard extended upwards and joined the: knuckle bow of the hilt. This rapid development was due to two other fencing masters, first Camillo Agrippa and shortly afterwards Giacomo Grassi. The work of Camillo Agrippa: Trattato di scientia d'arme appeared in Rome in 1553 and in Venice in 1568. Agrippa was an architect and engineer, a good mathematician and impassioned fencer. (Renowned among many other things for his direction of the erection of the obelisk on Piazza di San Pietro in front of the Vatican.) Among other aspects of the art he treated of fencing with left-hand daggers (fig. 14), with twin-rapiers, with halberds, etc. (Twin rapiers are rather seldom found Two excellent pairs are to be seen in the Musee de l'Arm& in Paris, o m pair belongs to the Danish Nationalmuseum, for the moment on deposit in the Royal Arsenal Museum in Copenhagen.) Like his Spanish colleague C a r e n ~ a h e analyzed the movements of the body and arrived at the conclusion that the cut is the natural movement and easier to carry out than the thrust. The thrust is complicated and demands rapidity and circumspection. And he is mostly in favour of the thrust. His theories would scarcely have gained so much ground and so much recognition had they not had the support of Giacomo Grassi's work: Ragioni di adoprar sicuramente 1'Arme si da offesa come da difesa. This work was issued first in Venice in the year 1570. I t was even translated into English. Grassi studied all forms of fencing in practice in his day, with two swords, with sword and left-hand dagger, with a small, round shield and with a larger shield and with a cloak about the left arm. Grassis book forms the background of the Frenchman Henri de Sainct-Didier's work published Chiamata Duello overo Fiore dell'Armi by fencing master Achtlle Marozzo, one that became of great importance to the evolution of the sword hilt. He put the art of fencing into system in a relatively precise way. Although as yet it was based chiefly upon the cut, i. a. fencing with the two-hand sword, with a rapier or striscia (as was the Italian name to the long and slender rapiers), with rapier and shield, shafted weapons and even daggers, though this little weapon is cnly sparseiy mentioned, he attached great importance to the shape and the construction of the quillons and the manner of grasping the hilt and the quillons with one or two fingers over the quillons. In his illustrations he demonstrates the various positions and movements. His work received so much appreciation that it appeared in a number of editions in rapid succession. By the year of 1540 the swcrd hilt had acquired a veritable but still rather simple counter-guard, but as yet the bows did not reach up over the cross. During the subsequent twenty or thirty years events moved only slowly. Between 156(}-and 1570 the bows of the counter-guard extended upwards and joined the knuckle bow of the hilt. This rapid development was due to two other fencing masters, first Camillo Agrippa and shortly afterwards Giacomo Grass!. The work of Camillo Agrippa: Trattato di sctentia d'arme appeared in Rome in 1553 and in Venice in 1568. Agrippa was an architect and engineer, a good mathematician and impassioned fencer. (Renowned among many other things for his direction of the erection of the obelisk on Piazza di San Pietro in front of the Vatican.) Among other aspects of the art he treated of fencing with left-hand daggers (fig. 14), with twin-rapiers, with halberds, etc. (Twin rapiers are rather seldom found Two excellent pairs are to be seen in the Musee de I'Armee in Paris, one pair belongs to the Danish Nationalmuseum, for the moment on deposit in the Royal Arsenal Museum in Copenhagen.) Like his Spanish colleague Carenc;a he analyzed the movements of the body and arrived at the conclusion that the cut is the natural movement and easier to carry out than the thrust. The thrust is complicated and demands rapidity and circumspection. And he is mostly in favour of the thrust. His theories would scarcely have gained so much ground and so much recognition had they not had the support of Giacomo Grassi's work: Ragioni di adoprar sicuramente l'Arme si da offesa come da difesa. This work was issued first in Venice in the year 1570. It was even translated into English. Grassi studied all forms of fencing in practice in his day, with two swords, with sword and left-hand dagger, with a small, round shield and with a larger shield and with a cloak about the left arm. Grassis book forms the background of the Frenchman Henr! de Sa!nct-Didier's work published 42 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 14. k f r - h a n d d o g g e r ~ . a : postihly North Italian, ca 1580-1600. h: Saxoniun, belongs to rapier fig. 28. (Details of hidt d i f f e r ) . c : Saxonidn triple-bladed, cn 1600. ( N o t . M u s . Copenhagen, 10104, 10103, I O l l l , mus f i t . ) . Fig. 14. !..A'lt-hand dUKI!(·r.~. u: po.\'.rih/y North Italian, ('a /5l/0-/600. h: SuxolJ;an. helongs to rapil'r I;/:, 28. (Detail~' 01 hi/t differ), c: Saxolliarl triple-hiudi'd. ('(l IMO. (Nrll. Mu.,', Copenlra,flC'lI. 10104, 10103. ,0'1" m((.f f'Jt.). 43 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es in Paris 1573, which likewise covered all forms of fencing. About 1606 came a book by the Italian fencing master Salvator Fabris. This fencing master was the teacher in fencing of the Dlanish king Chri- stian I V (1588-1648); he came to Denmark and was in 1590 appointed fencing master at the Roya! Danish Court. His book is written in Italian: De 10 Schermo overo scienxa d'Arme, and it includes 200 cop- pars by J. IEalbeech in Copenhagen. I n the same year was issued another work by NicoIetto Giganti, in Venice (1606) on fencing with the sword and left-hand dagger. In 1610 came Ridolfo Capo Ferro da Cagli's work in Siena. During the last period of the 16th century and the first half of the 17th century florished the left-hand daggers. Various types came into use, many of them richly chiselled or ornamented with chased silver or with beautiful siIver incrustrations, corresponding to the rapiers. Among the characteristical Italian daggers of the time is the slender, elegant stiletto with its grip often finely chiselled. The left-hand daggers with triple blades were to be found in many countries, in Italy and e. g. in Germany (fig. 14 c). In scientific fencing it had become necessary to protect the hand and body by means of a well-thought-out hilt construction with nu- merous bows and branches, each having its own purpose and signifi- cance. In France, around 1580, the development of fencing led to the counter-guard extending well upwards. About 1580.85 we see the reap- pearance of the old "etrier a pattes", but now in the form of a small finely perforated or elegantly decorated plate in the lower side ring. The thrust had practically displaced the cut and demanded still more branches and often plates inside the guard-rings. From the first little plate in the lower ring a further development leads to the more or less basket-hilted swords. But the development is also visible in the shape of the blade. The long, slender rapier blades reach their florescence. We find the most elegant blades in Spain and Itally, heavier and less slender in France and in the Germanic countries. As with the hilt types, the blades of the various nations are evidence that South European fencing was modified to suit the temperament and character of the different peoples. In time the elements of the hilts of the different countries become blended. Latin and Germanic were combined. From Germany the Latin rapiers received the mussel-shell guards which acquire impor- tance on many Spanish raplers. Although certain nathnal characters still prevail in hilt details, it is most often in the ornamentation that the provenance of a rapier hilt can be determined. in Paris 1573, which likewise covered all forms of fencing. About 1606 came a book by the Italian fencing master Salvator Fabris. This fencing master was the teacher in fencing of the Danish king Chri· stian IV (1588-1648); he came to Denmark and was in 1590 appointed fencing master at the Royal Danish Court. His book is written in Italian: De lo Schermo overo scienza d'Arme, and it includes 200 cop' pars by J. Halbeech in Copenhagen. In the same year was issued another work by Nkoletto Giganti, in Venice (1606) on fencing with the sword and left-hand dagger. In 1610 came Ridolfo Capo Ferro da Caglt's work in Siena. During the last period of the 16th century and the first half of the 17th century florished the left-hand daggers. Various types came into use, many of them richly chiselled or ornamented with chased silver or with beautiful silver incrustrations, corresponding to the rapiers. Among the characteristical Italian daggers of the time is the slender, elegant stiletto with its grip often finely chiselled. The left-hand daggers with triple blades were to be found in many countries, in Italy and e. g. in Germany (fig. 14 c). In scientific fencing it had become necessary to protect the hand and body by means of a well-thought-out hilt construction with nu- merous bows and branches, each having its own purpose and signifi- cance. In France, around 1580, the development of fencing led to the counter-guard extending well upwards. About 1580-85 we see the reap- pearance of the old "etrier a pattes", but now in the form of a: small finely perforated or elegantly decorated plate in the lower side ring. The thrust had practically displaced the cut and demanded still more branches and often plates inside the guard-rings. From the first little plate in the lower ring a further development leads to the more or less basket-hilted swords. But the development is also visible in the shape of the blade. The long, slender rapier blades reach their florescence. We find the most elegant blades in Spain and Italy, heavier and less slender in France and in the Germanic countries. As with the hilt types, the blades of the various nations are evidence that South European fencing was modified to suit the temperament and character ot the different peoples. In time the elements of the hilts of the different countries become blended. Latin and Germanic were combined. From Germany the Latin rapiers received the mussel-shell guards which acquire impor- tance on many Spanish rapiers. Although certain national characters still prevail in hilt details, it is most often in the ornamentation that the provenance of a rapier hilt can be determJled. 44 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Renaissance ornamentation If the mediaeval sword had mostly been a strong and vigorous fighting or ceremonial weapon, carried in battle or on special occasions, the rapier of the Renaissance in quite a different manner became a regular detail of civilian dress, worn indoors as an indispensable acces- sory to the costly and elegant court dress. This meant that a prince or a nobleman not only had a number of expensive swords, designed to match his various costumes and his taste, but also a wealth of materials, precious stones and ornaments. Many of the Renaissance hilts are true jewels. The goldsmiths of the Renaissance held sway over a large field. Artists and craftsmen were entrusted with big tasks. This is evident not merely from the portrait painting of royalty and nobility, the sidearms that have been handed down, but also the many designs drawn by artists and goldsmiths as well as from the accounts and inventories written at the time. The aesthetical value had replaced the value of force. In Italy already in the 15th century we find goldsmith wo~rk of brilliant quality applied to the hilts of swords and rapiers. I t i s the time of Rafael (born 1483 in Urbino), the pupil of amongst others Perugino. Tuscany is a region where the art of outstanding craftsmen florished abundantly, led by Florence where Donate110 worked and designed many such hilts. In Lombardy it attained to great heights, and there it was Milan, where Bartolomeo Campi worked for the Spanish king Carlos V and his son Felipe 11, and the same did Cesare Ferammca toto. Among the most outstanding sword hilts from Milan the specimen made for Carlos V in gold and enamel, now in Vienna must be mentioned. * Mantova, Venice, Rome, Siena and many other towns were also numbered among the well-known centres. Thero is eminent early Renaissance work for instance on some of the benedictional swords which the Popes, solemnly celebrating the Holy Mass on Christmas Elve in a certain period distributed to princes and other persons of high rank who had done well-merited service in the fight for Christianity. Among the goldsmiths who made sword hilts of this description the papal archives mention i. a. those of Florence, Rome and Siena, and some of the most outstanding swords perhaps are the one pre- sented in 1454 to Ludovico Bentivoglio of Bologna and the specimens with which some of the Doges of Venice were honoured. I n this context mention must be made of the highly skilled goldsmiths of * See C. Blair: European and American Arms. 1962, p. 85. The hilt now justly considered Spanish. Renaissance ornamentation If the mediaeval sword had mostly been a strong and vigorous fighting or ceremonial weapon, carried in battle or on special occasions, the rapier of the Renaissance in quite a different manner became a regular detail of civilian dress, worn indoors as an indispensable acces- sory to the costly and elegant court dress. This meant that a prince or a nobleman not only had a number of expensive swords, designed to match his various costumes and his taste, but also a wealth of materials, precious stones and ornaments. Many of the Renaissance hilts are true jewels. The goldsmiths of the Renaissance held sway over a large field. Artists and craftsmen were entrusted with big tasks. This is evident not merely from the portrait painting of royalty and nobility, the sidearms that have been handed down, but also the many designs drawn by artists and goldsmiths as weB as from the accounts and inventories written at the time. The aesthetical value had replaced the value of force. In Italy already in the 15th century we find goldsmith work of brilliant quality applied to the hilts of swords and rapiers. It is the time of Rafael (born 1483 in Urbino), the pupil of amongst others perugino. Tuscany is a region where the art of outstanding craftsmen florished abundantly, led by Florence where Donatello worked and designed many such hilts. In Lombardy it attained to great heights, and there it was Milan, where Bartolomeo Campi worked for the Spanish king Carlos V and h:s son Felipe n, and the same did Cesare Feramosca too. Among the most outstanding sword hilts from Milan the specimen made for Carlos V in gold and enamel, now in Vienna must be mentioned." Mantova, Venice, Rome, Siena and many other towns were also numbered among the weB-known centres. There is eminent early Renaissance work for instance on some of the benedictional swords which the Popes, solemnly celebrating the Holy Mass on Christmas Eve in a certain period distributed to princes and other persons of high rank who had done weB-merited service in the fight for Christianity. Among the goldsmiths who made sword hilts of this description the papal archives mention i. a. those of Florence, Rome and Siena, and some of the most outstanding swords perhaps are the one pre- sented in 1454 to Ludovico Bentivoglio of Bologna and the specimens with which some of the Doges of Venice were honoured. In this context mention must be made of the highly skilled goldsmiths of • See C. Blair: European and American Arms. 1962, p. 115. Thil hilt now justly considered Spanish. 45 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es the Spanish town of Zaragoxa, who turned out richly adorned renais- sance hilts in gold and silver (Pedro de las Cellas) especially under the Popes of the Borgia-family. And at about the middle of the 16th century we find a number of profusely ornamented Italian rapier hilts, some of iron with inlaid gold and silver decoration in the typical tendril style of the Remaissance with putti, herms, fauns, fruit etc. or with pictorial scenes of mythological contents. On the whole, Italian damascening attained to extremely high levels on the gala armour and shields of the time; the artists were such as Giorgio Ghisi of Mantova, the members of the Negroli family, Pompeo della Chiesa, Antonio and Lucio Piccinino and several others from Milan. Venice presented her own styles; in the forms there is often a trace of in- fluence from Oriental weapons, due to that town's trade relations with the Oriental countries and because craftsmen came from there to the powerful commercial republic to work. Currents are also perceptible from the Balkans; among weapons particularly affected from there were the large schiavones (fig. 9) with their basket hilts, which were carried by the Venetian foot-soldiers and somewhat later, bigger in size, by the cavalry for instance the cuirassiers of Ferdin- and 11. ?*he Oriental influence is particularly evident on the ear daggers of Venetian type which differ from the Spanish type in the style of their ornamentation. In his memoirs, Ch. VI, Benvenuto Cellini relates how in 1524 he saw some Turkish daggers with hilts and scabbards of iron, inlaid with fine foliage in gold in keeping with Turkish taste. He took a fancy to cultivate the art himself and was very successful, whereafter he began to make more of the same kind. Howelver, his weapons were finer and more durable than the Turkish, for one reason because he engraved deeper into the steel. B e also invented a richer variation of the ornaments the Turkish ones being most chicory leaves with a few flowers of Echites ((In Italy there is a much greater wealth of ornaments)), he says. ((In Lombardy they fashion the most elegant garlands of ivy and vine leaves which are a great joy to the eye. The Romans and the artists of Tuscany have excellent taste, especially in their use of acanthus and all their garlands and flowers. Moreover they place birds and animals of various kinds among leaves and flowers, employ wild flowers such as the so-called snapdragon. In addition there ;S a wealth of imaginary beings which are termed grotesques by the ignorants)). Benvenuto then turns to explaining why such things are called grotesques. In Na,ples too the goldsmith's work is of magnificent quality; moreover, in both Naples and Brescia were produced the elegant chiselling work that resembles lace made in iron. (One branch of it the Spanish town of Zaragoza, who turned out richly adorned renais- sance hilts in gold and silver (Pedro de las Cellas) especially under the Popes of the Borgia-family. And at about the middle of the 16th century we find a number of profusely ornamented Italian rapier hilts, some of iron with inlaid gold and silver decoration in the typical tendril style of the Renaissance with putti, herms, fauns, fruit etc. or with pictorial scenes of mythological contents. On the whole, Italian damascening attained to extremely high levels on the gala armour and shields of the time; the artists were such as Giorgio Ghisi of Mantova, the members of the Negroli family, Pompeo della Chiesa, Antonio and Lucio Piccinino and several others from Milan. Venice presented her own styles; in the forms there is often a trace of in- fluence from Oriental weapons, due to that town's trade relations with the Oriental countries and because craftsmen came from there to the ,powerful commercial republic to work. Currents are also perceptible from the Balkans,. among weapons particularly affected from there were the large schiavones (fig. 9) with their basket hilts, which were carried by the Venetian foot-soldiers and somewhat later, bigger in size, by the cavalry for instance the cuirassiers of Ferdin- and n. The Oriental influence is particularly evident on the ear daggers of Venetian type which differ from the Spanish type in the style of their ornamentation. In his memoirs, Ch. VI, Benvenuto Cellini relates how in 1524 he saw some Turkish daggers with hilts and scabbards of iron, inlaid with fine foliage in gold in keeping with Turkish taste. He took a fancy to cultivate the art himself and was very successful, whereafter he began to make more of the same kind. However, his weapons were finer and more durable than the Turkish, for one reason because he engraved deeper into the steel. He also invented a richer variation of the ornaments the Turkish ones being most chicory leaves with a few flowers of Echites, «In Italy there is a much g1'eater wealth of ornaments», he says. «In Lombardy they fashion the most elegant garlands of ivy and vine leaves which are a great joy to the eye. The Romans and the artists of Tuscany have excellent taste, especially in their use of acanthus and all their garlands and flowers. Moreover they place birds and animals of various kinds among leaves and flowers, employ wild flowers such as the so-called snapdragon. In addition there :s a wealth of imaginary beings which are termed grotesques by the ignorants». Benvenuto then turns to explaining why such things are called grotesques. In Naples too the goldsmith's work is of magnificent quality; moreover, in both Naples and Brescia were produced the elegant chiselling work that resembles lace made in iron. (One branch of it 46 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 15. Itnlilrn rapiers with silver ornaments in the hills. In blades: a: Stetzius Keuller me fecit Solingen and stamps with Agnus Dei. b: Clemens Horn me ferit Solingen. (Nut. Mus. Copenhagen. 10126 and 21715, mus. fot.). 47 /. -, l..- 'i, ~~ ~.... !j :I , ! I,,. ;~ ~ ·1.;.... .1 Filt· 15. Italiall rapiers with si/V!!,. ornamellts in the hills. In blades: a: Slelliu.f Keu/ler me fecil Solingcn Ulld stamps with Agnus Dei. b: Clem ens Hom mr fecit Solingen. (Nat. MU.f. Copenhagen. JOJ2fJ and 21715. n1US. fot.). 47 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 16. a ltalian rapier, first half o f 17th century. G r o t e ~ q u e m a t k \ , fingcr guards in shape e f winged m o n s t e t s . Quillons w i t h T u r k ' r head, one missing. I n ricassv s f a m p r of Sehasticin Hernhndez. h: Rapier from about 1600, floral ornaments, traces o f gold. I n blade the n a m e o f A n t o n i o Piccinino severat times. Sickles of the Sfantler family. ( N a t . M U Y . C o - penhagen. 10141 and 10135, m u s . for.). ~ " r ." .... Fig. 16. a: Ita/ian rapier, fi"~1 half of 171h celltury. GrOI('.I"qlle musKs. fioger guards in shape 'Vf win~('d momter". Qui/Ions wilh Turk's hwd, OIl(' missinf:. III ricas.,·:) slamp.\" of Sellastion Herntllldel. h: RI/piN from about 1600, floral ornaments, traces of gold. In bladl' thl' name of A nlOn;o Piccinino several times. Sickles of the Stiinrler family. (Nat. Mu.\". Co- penIJO/:ell. 10141 (/Ild 10135, mus. fo(.). 48 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 17. R,apier probably Italian with silver incrustations. About 1585. ( a l l . E . A . Christensen, E . 99). 49 , I~~ , ~... ' ..... f: I "I f· " ~~~.;., ," 'I: . . \. : 'I. ~:':.'::<~" "~ . ~ ..... .~ • I Fig. /7. Rapier probably /wlian with silver incrustatiolls. Abow 1585. (Call. E. A. Chrisrensen, E. 99). 49 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es is the mountings on the ornamental firearms of the day.) From Naples we have the signatures of several artists who for instance fashioned the cups for Spanish cup hllt rapiers. Round about 1530 many rapier hilts were designed by Raphael's disciple Caravaggio. Fig. 18. a: Spanish rapier ctespada de laze>>. I n blicade D e H o r t u n o de Ayuire e n T o l e d o and t h e o f f i c i u l s t u m p of Espudero del R e y . h: Spanish r u p k r with damascened ornaments, n o w faint. I n ricusso s t a m p of Johunne, W u n d e , in blade n a m e of Sebasticin Heincinder and i n w i p t i o n s . ( N a t . M U F , C o p n h a g e n . 21711 and 10136, m u s . fot.). is the mountings on the ornamental firearms of the day.) From Naples we have the signatures of several artists who for instance fashioned the cups for Spanish cup hilt rapiers. Round about 1530 many rapier hilts were designed by Raphael's disciple Caravaggio. Fig. 18. a: Spanish rapier «espada de [azo». 111 bl'Gde De Ronuno de Aguire en Toledo alld rhe official .r/llIllp of Espadero del Rey. h: Spanish rapia with dll1nllscened ornaments. now faint. In ricasso stll/llP of ]ohanne,\' Wunde, in blade name of Sebastian RernwuJez and inscriptions. INat. Mus. Copellhaf?l'll. 21711 and 1013(,. m/ls. fot.). 50 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es North Italian hilts often have a rather complicated basket with many bows, which is nothing strange having regard to the fencing masters there and the manuals on fencing published in that part of the country. The Italian hilts are often extremely elegant with slender guards and quillons. The latter are very long, longer than for instance the German and French though scarcely comparable with the Spanish. The bows are often artistically entwined. From below the pas-d'he runs the traditional bow followed upwards by a midway bow which may assume the form of a spiral volute; a third joins the knuckle bow at its middle. and on the side of the counter- giiard three bows emanate from the pas-d'Bne and join on to the knuckle bow. Often the latter is only loosely joined on to the pommel. I t may end in a small b d l or knob corresponding to the ends of the quillons, or in a hook bent outwards; or, slightly rounded, it may terminate a very short distance from the pommel, often no more than a millimetre. The museum m the Pdaxxo Capodimonte has a number of typical Italian hilts of the middle 16th century. Several of them are richly ornamented, a type that is familiar for example from the famous work from 1554 in the Victoria and Albert Museum on London (No. E 1764-19291, by Philipplo Urso of Mantova. The hilt material is often iron (fig. 15) gold or silver gilt with a wealth of ornaments and figures inlaid wlth the technique mentioned by Benvenuto. Although this form of inlay recalls the Spanish and French it differs from them; the blades are often of Italian work, especially from Milan (Caino, Piccinino (fig. 16-17) and others), from which city we also have archival evidence of a large production of arms, and not armour alone. Other names are Ferrara of Belluno, Pedro di Napoli. They may also be Spanish, signed by Hortuno de Aguirre, Delaorta, Ayala, Sebastian, Hernandex (fig. IS), Alonso de Sahagun and others. In many instances the blades are from Solingen, some of them imi- tations of the Italian and Spanish-and into the bargain with imita- tions of the names of the Italian and Spanlsh masters. Sometimes it may be difficult to distinguish between the genuine blades and the good imitations, but the Spanish blade smiths had their own technique for farming and placing the letters, and this could not be copied. Spain is highly individual with her rapiers (fig. 18-20). The hilts are remarkably short-an inheritance from the Moorish swords. The pommels are often like those of Italy and France but there are special forms too (lantern-shaped, etc.) (fig. 20). There is something undefinable, something foreign about many of the Spanish forms. The pas-d'he bows, guards, pitons and the like are slightly more prominent than on the weapons of the other countries, but first and 51 North Italian hilts often have a rather complicated basket with many bows, which is nothing strange having regard to the fencing masters there and the manua,ls on fencing published in that part of the country. The Italian hilts are often extremely elegant with slender guards and quillons. The latter are very long, longer than for instance the German and French though scarcely comparable with the Spanish. The bows are often artistically entwined. From below the pas-d'ane runs the traditional bow followed upwards by a midway bow which may assume the form of a spiral volute; a third joins the knuckle bow at its middle" and on the side of the counter- gUard three bows emanate from the pas-d'ane and join on to the knuckle bow. Often the latter is only loosely joined on to the pommel. It may end in a small ball or knob corresponding to the ends of the quillons, or in a hook bent outwards; or, slightly rounded, it may terminate a very short distance from the ponunel, often no more than a millimetre. The museum in the Palazzo Capodimonte has a number of typical Italian hilts of the middle 16th century. Several of them are richly ornamented, a type that is familiar for example from the famous work from 1554 in the Victoria and Albert Museum on London (No, E 1764-1929), by Philippo Urso of Mantova, The hilt material is often iron (fig, 15) gold or silver gilt with a wealth of ornaments and figures inlaid with the technique mentioned by Benvenuto. Although this form of inlay recalls the Spanish and French it differs from them; the blades are often of Italian work, especially from Milan (Caino, Piccinino (fig. 16'17) and others), from Which city we also have archival evidence of a large production of arms, and not armour alone. Other names are Ferrara 0/ Belluno, Pedro di Napoli. They may also be Spanish, signed by Hortuno de Aguirre, Delaorta, Ayala, sebastian, Hernandez (fig. 18), Alonso de Sahagun and others. In many instances the blades are from Solingen, some of them imi- tations of the Italian and Spanish-and into the bargain with imita- tions of the names of the Italian and Spanish masters, Sometimes it may be difficult to distinguish between the genuine blades and the good imitations, but the Spanish blade smiths had their own technique for forming and placing the letters, and this could not be copied. Spain is highly individual with her rapiers (fig. 18-20). The hilts are remarkably short-an inheritance from the Moorish 'swords. The pommels are often like those of Italy and France but there are special forms too (lantern-shaped, etc.) (fig. 20). There is something undefinable, something foreign about many of the Spanish forms. The pas-d'ane bows, guards, pitons and the like are slightly more prominent than on the weapons of the other countries, but first and 51 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es F i g . 19. a: Spanish rapier with engraved ornaments in the hilt. In the blade. Juan Martinez en Toledo and stamp oaf Erpadero del Rey. b: Spanish? rapier with engraved scrolls m d with hearts and flowers in enamel and silver openwork. In the blade the whole prayer o f Ave Maria, gratia plena. In ricasso crossbow stamp^.. (Nar. Mus. Copenhagen, 10134 and 10130, mur. fot.). foremost the quillons are often of a different style, the foremost being turned upwards into an open knuckle guard, often in an elegant arc, whereas the lower one is turned downwards in a corresponding curve (fig. 181. Sometimes there is quite a small cage of close bows emanating from the pas-d'gne. One guard is sometimes turned upwards i n an open knuckle guard, the quillons forming a long, elegant letter 9. In these rapiers, whose blades are often unusually long, slender, strong but whippy, like a steel splring, Toledo work, we find the prototypes of the curious Flemish rapiers with a basket hilt of I I Fig. /9. a: Spwlish rapier with engraved ornaments in rhe hilf. III the Made; Juan Martine" ('11 Toledo alld slOmp ul e.fpadero del Re)'. b: Spanish? ropier Iv;,1I ('n1?,.a~·ed seroJ/s Gild wilh hearts and /101-1:(''',,, in enamel and silver opellll'ork. In the blade {he whole prayer of A~'e Maria, gratia plena. In rrcas.'io crossbow sramps. (Na,. It/us. Co[Xnhagl>n. 10134 and /0130, IH1H. /ot.). foremost the quillons are often of a d;fferent style, the foremost being turned upwards into a,n open knuckle guard, often in an elegant arc, whereas the lower one is turned downwards in a corresponding curve (fig. 18). Sometimes there is quite a small cage of close bows emanating from the pas-ct'une. One guard is sometimes turned upwards in an open knuckle guard, the quillons forming a long, elegant letter S. In these rapiers, whose blades are often unusually long, slender, strong but whippy, like a steel spring, Toledo work, we find the prototypes of the curious Flemish rapiers with a basket hilt of 52 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 20. a: Spanish rapier with Ian~ern-shaped pommel and lantern-ornaments on quill'ons and side rings. About 1580. In the blade De Francisco Ruiz en T o k d o . b: Officers sword, so-called c<Pa;ppenheimer>>. Dutch type from about 1620-30. The type was very popular in Sweden. In the hilt engraved ornmenrs, in the blade: Clemens Deinger, and stamp with a w a n . (Nat. Mus. Copenhagen, I0123 and 10132, rnus. fot.). many bows that almost wraps itself about the hand. The shape of the quillons may embody a reminiscence of the old a la Valencianas. It is no long step from there to the more or less perforated mussel- shell guard plates to be found especially on the Flemish rapiers but not uncc~mmonly on the Spanish too. There is no! aoubt that in this we see an influence from Germany (fig. 21). The Spanish rapier hilts also provided the goldsmiths with Op- portunities to display their skill. Like the Italian, the art of the goldsmith in S p a i n was on a particularly high level in the early Re- naissance and the 16th century. One of the most remarkable localities for this art was Guadalupe in E s t r e m a d u r a , which had fostered one of the most able Spanish goldsmiths, F r a y J u a n d e Segovia. Most i l ,. ~.. " l ifjo :l (. Fig. 20. a: Spanish rapier with lantern-shaped pommel and lantern-ornaments 011 quili'Ons and side rings. About 1580. In the blade De Francisco Ruiz en To~edo. b: Officers sword, so-called «Pappenheimer». DU/ch type from about 1620-30. The rype was very popular in Sweden. In the hilt engraved omaments, in the blade: Clemens Deinger, and stamp with a swan. (Nat. Mus. CopenhaKen, 10123 and 10132, mus. tot.). many bows that almost wraps itself about the hand. The shape of the quillons may embody a reminiscence of the old a la Valencianas. It is no long step from there to the more or less perforated mussel- shell guard plates to be found especially on the Flemish rapiers but not uncommonly on the Spanish too. There is no doubt that in this we see an influence from Germany (fig. 21). The Spanish rapier hilts also provided the goldsmiths with op- portunities to display their skill. Like the Italian, the art of the goldsmith in Spain was on a particularly high level in the early Re- naissance and the 16th century. One of the most remarkable localities for this art was Guado1upe in Estremadura, which had fostered one of the most able Spanish goldsmiths, Fray Juan de Segovia. Most 53 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 2 ' I . Flemish r a p i e r , < < P a p p e n h e i m e r > > , about 1620-30. In the blade the name o f Heinrich Pae- ther. ( C o l l . E . A . Christensen, E 18). prominent, and also one of the oldest, was Toledo, followed by San- tiago de Compostela and Oviedo; the art was somewhat younger in Leon and Seville. Granada too belonged to the circle. Zaragoxa must also be mentioned, because from it came a large number of skilful goldsmiths t o the many Italian courts and to Rome. The damasce- ning technique that was practised at Toledo was closely related to the Oriental, which originally came from India. Both technically and stylistically it differs from t h e damascening of t h e other Romanesque countries. This special products of damascening is to be seen not only on rapler hilts but also on daggers, particularly o n the characte- ristic ear daggers. Like the Venetian weapon the Spanish types originated in the Orient, but t h e two types-the Venetian and the Spanish-differ in both ornamentation and form. The main center of manufacture in Spain may have been Granada. A n outstanding representative from this center is t h e dagger of Boabdil in t h e Real Fig. 2/. Flemish rap i er, «Pappellheimer». aho/lt /620-30. /11 the hlade the lIame of Heillrich Pue- ther. (Call. E. A. ChristellSell. E /8). prominent, and also one of the oldest, was Toledo, followed by San- ttago de Compostela and Ovtedo,' the art was somewhat younger in LeOn and Seville. Granada too belonged to the circle. Zaragoza must also be mentioned, because from it came a large number of skilful goldsmiths to the many Italian courts and to Rome. The damasce- ning technique that was practised at Toledo was closely related to the Oriental, which originally came from India. Both technically and stylistically it differs from the damascening of the other Romanesque countries. This special products of damascening is to be seen not only on rapier hilts but also on daggers, particularly on the characte- ristic ear daggers. Like the Venetian weapon the Spanish types originated in the Orient, but the two types-the Venetian and the Spanish-differ in both ornamentation and form. The main center of manufacture in Spain may have been Granada. An outstanding representative from this center is the dagger of Boabdil in the Real 54 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Armeria in Madrld. Another outstanding spec:men of ear dagger possibly from Granada is to be found in Institute Valencia de Don Juan. Madrid. Various specimens are in the museum of Lazaro Galdiano in Madrid, in the coll, of Palazxo Odeschalchi in Rome and in a, few other museums. The types have been treated by mrs. Pilar Fernandez Vega in an essay: Dagas granadinas. The Spanish type by the way was popular at the French court, and French accounts of both 15th and 16th centuries, make more mention of Spanish elar dag- gers, e. g. the inventory from Fontainebleu as late a s 1560. Dating from 1538 there is a drawinq by the goldsmith Cristobal Juan at Bar- celona, of a most elegant ear dagger. The archives of B,arcelona mention drawings from such artists as Antonio de Valdes and Rafael de Ximenes from 1537. The most characteristic rap-ers are the cup hilt rapiers, which make their appearance early in the 17th century and culminate round about the 16501's (fig 22). They were still in use around 1700, and dated and signed specimens of after the year 1700 are known. The cup was possibly designed under the influence of the mussel shells of German rapiers, which on the Spanish rapiers were made larger and rounder, and in time qrew into the well-known cup or bell. The turned edge was developed in conformity with the manuals of the Spanish fen- cing masters, its function being to catch and break the blade. The quillons are extremely long, the grip very short and the knuckle guard does not close r;ght up to the rather flattened spherical pom- mel. On the later cup hilt rapiers various details are added on the inside of the bell, details that are of importance to the holding of the weapon. Cup and pommel may be quite plain, un~decorated o r ha- ving merely a narrow lace edge cut in the iron; but the most charac- teristic form is the cup with openwork Lke fine lace. Outstanding specimens are extant, made in Spain itself, i. a. in Madrid by Madrile- nian artists, and indeed in Portugal. But it was the artists at Naples -then under Spanish rule--who became famous for their extraordi- narily fine cup h i l t rapiers. The cup was carved a la espagnole, and among the more renowned artists in this field are two whose signed works now repose in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London and the Detroit Art Institute, U. S. A., Antonio Cilenta and Lorenzio Palumbo. Brescia and Milan are other towns which had a name for their Spanish-style cup hilt rapiers. The Solingen factories imitated them, and in Germany we find the type represented, but often of somewhat coarser finish. Coupled with these rapiers are the Spanish left-hand daggers with similar iron-work (fig. 22). Just as the cup of the cup hilt rapier was produced in various forms, for instance like a scalloped Armeria in Madrid. Another outstanding spec:men of ear dagger possibly from Granada is to be found in Instituto Valencia de Don JUaJ"l. Madrid. Various specimens are in the museum of Laza;ro Galdiano in Madrid., in the coll, oj Pala"i!zo Odeschalchiin Rome and in a few other museums. The types have been treated by mrs. Pilar Fern{mdez Vega in an essay: Dag9s granadinas. The Spanish type by the way was popular at the French court, and French accounts of both 15th and 16th centuries, make more mention of Spanish ear dag- gers, e. g. the inventory from Fontainebleu as late as 1560. Dating from 1538 there is a drawing by the goldsmith Crist6bal Juan at Bar- celona, of a most elegant ~ar dagger. The archives of Barcelona mention drawings from such artists as Antonio de Valdes and Rajael de Ximenes from 1537. The most characteristic rap:ers are the cup hilt rapiers, which make their appearance early in the 17th century and culminate round about the 1650's (fig. 22). They were still in use around 1700, and dated a,nd signed specimens of after the year 1700 are known. The cup was passibly designed under the influence of the mussel shells of German rapiers, which on the Spanish rapiers were made larger and rounder, and in time grew into the well-known cup or bell. The turned edge was developed in conformity with the manuals of the Spanish fen- cing masters, its function being to catch and break the blade. The quillons are extremely long, the grip very short and the knuckle guard does not close r:ght up to the rather flattened spherical pom- mel. On the later cup hilt rapiers various details are added on the inside of the bell, details that are of importance to the holding of the weapon. Cup and pommel. may be quite plain, undecorated or ha- ving merely a narrow lace edge cut in the iron; but the most charac- teristic form is the cup with openwork like fine lace. Outstanding specimens are extant, made in Spain itself, i. a. in Madrid by Madrile- nfan artists, and indeed in Portugal. But it was the artists at Naples -then under Spanish rule--who became famous for their extraordi- narily fine cup hilt rapiers. The cup was carved a la espagnole, and among the more renowned artists in this field are two whose signed works now repose in the Victoria and Albert Museum in London and the Detroit Art Institute, U. S. A., Ant01lio Cilenta and Lorenzio Palumbo. Brescia and Milan are other towns which had a name for their Spanish-style cup hilt rapiers. The Solingen factories imitated them, and in Germany we find the type represented, but often of somewhat coarser finish. Coupled with these rapiers are the Spanish lejt-hand daggers with similar iron·work (fig. 22). Just as the cup of the cup hilt rapier was produced in various forms, for :nstance like a scalloped 55 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 22. Spanish left-hand dagger and cup-hilt rapier. T h e pierced and chiselled hilts are possibly Italian w o r k m a n s h i p , about 1650. (Coll. E. A. Chris- tensen, E 71 and 79). calyx of greater or smaller depth and especially in the latter part of the 17th century got sloping brims with a higher margin under the knuckle guard, so the guard on the SDanish left-hand dagger varies in appearance, becomes lobate, with a ((lace border)) on the smooth iroln plate. That the cup hilt rapier pers-sts so long in Spain is due to the special line of development in Spanish fencing as evolved by Luis Pacheco de Narvaex with its methodology and its geometrical, scientifically devised movements. A good idea of the Spanish school of fencing was provided by the large work which appeared in Leyden in 1630, by Girard Thibaust d'Anvers: Academie de l'epee ou se uemonstru"nt par reigles mathematiques sur le f o n d a m n t d'un cercle mysterteux la theofie et pratique des vrais et jusqu'a present i n c o p u s , ; " ·t, .. .C'~ . .,. .. :~.-;<> Fig. 22. Spanish left-hand dagger and cup-hilt rapier. The pierced and chiselled hilts are possibly Italian workmanship, about 1650. (Coli. E. A. Chris- tensen, E 71 and 79). calyx of greater or smaller depth and especially in the latter part of the 17th century got sloping brims with a higher margin under the knuckle guard, so the guard on the Spanish left-hand dagger varies in appearance, becomes lobate, with a «lace border» on the smooth iron plate. That the cup hilt rapier pers:sts so long in Spain is due to the special line of development in Spanish fencing as evolved by Luis Paeheeo de Nal'vaez with its methodology and its geometr~cal, scientifically devised movements. A good idea of the Spanish school of fencing was provided by the large work which appeared in Leyden in 1630, by Girard Thibaust d'Anvers: Aeademie de i'epee ou se dcmonstrent par reigles mathematiques sur le fondament d'un eercle mysterieux la theorie et pratique des vrais et jusqu'a present ineognus 56 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es secrets de maniement des armes a pied et a cheval, a work difficult to understand but illustrated by eminent artists. In France at about the middle of the 17th century a change was made to a shorter small-sword-xla courte &peen and the left-hand dagger was abolished. The three edged blade was introduced at the same time and a distinction was made between epee militaire and epee de v;lle. A book by Le Perche du Courdray the founder of the French School with: L'Exercioe des armes ou le maniement des fleu- ret-, Paris 1635 was of particular interest, The French school was ins- trumenta~l in causing the long rapier to disappear in Italy and elsewhe- re except Spain, and the new shorter and more simple form to appear. During the second half of 17th century the small-sword led to the handsome dress-swords which flourished during the rococo. France separated herself on the whole from Italy and Spain by her heavkr forms of sword, though maintaining a high degree of elegance. Iron chiselling came into1 the foreground and Spanish dam- ascening made its way mross the Pyrtntes (fig. 23). At first the hilts were of the same complicated types as the Italian and Spanish. Some way into the 17th century the French swords separated from those of the other Romanesque countries on account of the French fencing system. French renaissance hilts are scarceIy ever lacking a quillon run- ning right through the cross with a front and back end. Then there are the knuckle-guard and the other bows. It has several points of similarity with Slouth German hilts, which were often mfluenced by French work especially towards the close of the1 16th century and around the year 1600. French artists and goldsmiths provide drawings and suggestions for characteristic renaissance hilts in gold and silver, and several such drawings are extant. after them i a at Lyons by Pierre Woezriot from Lorraine, Bordeaux, Paris and elsewhere. The drawings of EZienne Delaune influenced the artists and swords makers at the Bavarian court, including iron chisellers like Daniel and Bnanuel Sadetler, whose hilts are actually French in style. A special iron-work technique developed in France, with orna- ments and whole pictorial scenes in blued relief on a gilt background. One famous sword and gun smith, Antoine Jacquard of Poitiers, drew designs for hilts with silver incrustations in black steel. I n the late baroque and during the rococo France, especially Paris, became the European centre for elegant dress-swords. French 16th and 17th cen- tury inventories and other documents sometimes mention swords with hilts h la espagnole, B la italienne, and a la allemaigne by French artists. A sword hilt was not necessarily made in the country in secrets de maniement des armes a pied et a cheval, a work difficult to tUlderstand but illustrated by eminent artists. In France at about the middle of the 17th century a change was made to a shorter small-sword-----{(la courte epee» and the left-hand dagger was abolished. The three edged blade was introduced at the same time and a distinction was made between epee militaire and epee de v:Ile. A book by Le P(~rche du Courdray the founder of the French School with: l'Exercice des armes OU le maniement des Ileu- ret-, Paris 1635 was of particular interest. The French school was ins- trumental in causing the long rapier to disappear in Italy and elsewhe- re except Spain, and the new shorter and more simple form to appear. During the second half of 17th century the small-sword led to the handsome dress-swords which flourished during the rococo. France separated herself on the whole from Italy and Spain by her heav:er forms of sword, though maintaining a high degree of elegance. Iron chiselling came into the foreground and Spanish dam- ascening made its way across the Pyrenees (fig. 23). At first the hilts were of the same complicated types as the Italian and Spanish. Some way into the 17th century the French swords separated from those of the other Romanesque countries on accotUlt of the French fencing system. French renaissance hilts are scarcely ever lacking a quillon run- ning right through the cross with a front and back end. Then there are the knuckle-guard and the other bows. It has several points of similarity with South German hilts, which were often influenced by French work especially towards the close of the 16th century and arotUld the year 1600. French artists and goldsmiths provide drawings and suggestions for characteristic renaissance hilts in gold and silver, and several such drawings are extant after them i a at Lyons by Pierre WoeiriOt from Lorraine, Bordeaux, Paris and elsewhere. The drawings of Etienne Delaune influenced the artists and swords makers at the Bavarian court, including iron chisellers like Daniel and Emanuel Sadeler, whose hIlts are actually French in style. A special iron-work technique developed in France, with orna- ments and whole pictorial scenes in blued relief on a gilt backgrotUld. One famous sword and gtUl smith, Antoine Jacquard 0/ Poitiers, drew designs for hilts with silver incrustations in black steel. In the late baroque and during the rococo France, especially Paris, became the European centre for elegant dress-swords. French 16th and 17th cen- tury inventories and other documents sometimes mention swords with hilts a la espagnole, a la italienne, and a la allemaigne by French artists. A sword hilt was not necessarily made in the cotUltry in 57 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 2 3 . T h e <<cl~rrssical~> French rapier f&m about 1575. Hilt richly damascened with gold and x i h r . Stamps in the ricasso. ( C o l l . E . A . Christensen, E 208). whose type and style it was designed. Form and style depended upon the desires of the customer. The swords in England stand to some degree quite alone. I n that country were evolved a separate group of designs and a separate style which on the whole were local (fig. 24 6 ) . The hilts often have several bows and guards, half-and whole guard plates, small, shallow bowls, etc. Sometimes the pommels are reminiscent of the Spanish and French, occasionally of the German. The quillons are frequently peculiar, for instance extremely volute-rolled. The decorative elements are highly characteristic A special favourite is the damascening, -:~~:t { .". . . J '., ..". "'I. .• ~t-~~.' ,., Fii!. 23. Tile «classical» French rapier INm about 1575. Hilt richly damascened wilh Raid and silver. Slam ps in Ihe ricasso. (Call. E. A. Christensen. E 208). whose type and style it was designed. Form and style depended upon the desires of the customer. The swords in England stand to some degree quite alone. In that country were evolved a separate group of designs and a separate style which on the whole were local (fig. 24 b). The hilts often have several bows and guards, half-and whole guard plates, small, shallow bowls, etc. Sometimes the pommels are reminiscent of the Spanish and French, occasionally of the German. The quillons are frequently peculiar, for instance extremely volute-rolled. The decorative elements are highly characteristic. A special favourite is the damascening, 58 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 24. a: Italian. b: English and. c : Spanish cup-hilt rapiers, the English ra- pier with rich silver incrustrrtions. First half of 17th century. ( C o l l . E . A . Christensen, E 91, 20, 206). which recalls the French or South german. There is a predilection for salver and gold incrustations in the dark steel. The artistic quality is often very high. In many cases it is impossible to decide whether the hilts are the work of Engiish goldsmiths and artists or of immi- grated South German craftsmen. The latter alternative is not unu- sual, as in the 17th century England sent for German craftsmen and blade smiths (Hounslow blades). There is also pierced iron work with no form of inlay in other materials. Some of this work attains to great beauty whereas others are rather crude, almost primitive. On the whole, England's 17th century sidearms have a physiognomy of their own. There as in Italy and France the hilt became simplified about the Fig. 24. a: /lalian. b: English and. r: Spanish nw-hill rapiers. the English ra- pier IVith rich silver incruslalions. Fir,l'l half of 171h cenlury. (Call. E. A. Chri.wensen, E 91, 20. 20(,). which recalls the French or South german. There is a predilection for sJver and gold incrustations in the dark steel. The artistic quality is often very high. In many cases it is impossible to decide whether the hilts are the work of Eng;ish goldsmiths and artists or of immi· grated South German craftsmen. The latter alternative is not unu· sual, as in the 17t~ century England sent for German craftsmen and blade smiths (HOWlSlow blades). There is also pierced iron work with no form of inlay in other materials. Some of this work attains to great beauty whereas others are rather crude, almost primitive. On the whole, England's 17th century sidearms have a physiognomy of their own. There as in Italy and France the hilt became simplified about the 59 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es middle of the 17th century. The many bows disappear and are re- placed by a single knuckle-bow and mussel-shell guards, often rather small and placed below the quillons at the lower ends of the pas-d'8ne. Although it cannot generally be said that all European sword hilts can be divided into Latin and Germanic and these again into Italian, Spanish, French, English, etc., it is possible t o make a certain subdivision. The Germanic hilts were evolved on another basis and originally according to other principles than the Latin. Actually it was not long before the Latin characteristics began to influence the Ger- manic and vice versa. In Germany especially in the South, many Latin elements were absorbea. The same was the case in the Nether- lands, where in particular the Spanish influence was highly percepti- ble. (fig. 21). I n conjunction with the Germanic elements special forms emerge just here, as was the case in England. One separate development occurred in the East corner of Central Europa, where the much enclosed basket hilts that are familiar from the schiavones, dusaggr: sa~bres, etc., become characteristic, However this extreme hand protection, intended mainly as a guard against the cutting blow, also become the recipient of Latin elements, receives a kind af pas d'kne, oblique bows, etc., on the counter-guard or quite a little cross of bows on that side. In this respect North Italy displays a curious form with the Latin, very long quillons, often slightly S-shaped, with a closed basket-hilt, sometimes quite devoid of pas-d'hne and oblique guards, an Italo-Slav type of sword, mainly intended for cutting. In Switxerland the combination of Latin and Germanic is clearly visible. Around the 15210's there are still large cutting swords to be seen, almost hand-and-half swords with a cruciform hilt, pas-d'be and oblique bows, side rings which connect the pas-d'hne-ends, pitons and half or whole knuckle-bows (fig. 25). The Swiss sabres also have curious combinations of bows. On the whole Switzerland is remar- kable for her different local types-swords as we11 as rapiers, hangers and daggers. One of the local groups observable especially in the Germanic development is to be found in Saxony. A number of excellent and very characteristic rapiers are preserved in the Electorial Armoury in Dresden, while others have been spread about museums and collections in the course of time. Characteristic is another large and simple cruciform type, one that was easy to imitate and therefore gave rise to a multitude of copies and falsifications. The characteristic feature of these swords is the often short, plump form of the grip with an almost serrated collar above and below as well as vertical bands of iron from the one to the other, and also a biconical pommel, often with six sides on each half. One also encounters the long, divided middle of the 17th century. The many bows disappear and are re- placed by a single knuckle-bow and mussel-shell guards, often rather small and placed below the quillons at the lower ends of the pas-d'fl.lle. Although it cannot generally be said that all European sword hilts can be divided into Latin and Germanic and these again into Italian, Spanish, French, English, etc., it is possible to make a certain subdivision. The Germanic hilts were evolved on a.nother basis and originally according to other principles than the Latin. Actually it was not long before the Latin characteristics began to influence the Ger- manic and vice versa. In Germany especially in the South, many Latin elements were absorbed. The same was the case in the Nether- lands, where in particUlar the Spanish influence was highly percepti- ble. (fig. 21). In conjunction with the Germanic elements special forms emerge just here, as was the case in England. One separate development occurred in the East corner of Central Europa, where the much enclosed basket hilts that are familiar from the schiavones, dusagg,~ sa'bres, etc., become characteristic. However this extreme hand protection, intended mainly as a guard against the cutting blow, also become the recipient of Latin elements, receives a kind af I::as-d'ane, oblique bows, etc., on the counter-guard or quite a little cross of bows On that side. In this respect North Italy displays a curious form with the Latin, very long quillons, often slightly S-shaped, with a closed basket-hilt, sometimes quite devoid of pas-d'ane and oblique guards, an Halo-Slav type of sword, mainly intended for cutting. In Switzerland the combination of Latin and Germanic is clearly visible. Around the 1520's there are still large cutting swords to be seen, almost hand-and-half swords with a cruciform hilt, pas-d'ane and oblique bows, side rings which connect the pas-d'ane-ends, pitons and half or whole knuckle-bows (fig. 25). The Swiss sabres also have curious combinations of bows. On the whole Switzerland is remar- kable for her different local types-swords as well as rapiers, hangers and daggers. One of the local groups observable especially in the Germanic development is to be found in Saxony. A number of excellent and very characteristic rapiers are preserved in the Electorial Armoury in Dresden, while others have been spread about museums and collections in the course of time. Characteristic is another large and simple cruciform type, one that was easy to imitate and therefore gave rise to a multitude of copies and falsifications. The characteristic feature of these swords is the often short, plump form of the grip with an almost serrated collar above and below as well as vertical bands of iron from the one to the other, and also a biconical pommel, often with six sides on each half. One also encounters the long, divided 60 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es Fig. 25. Swiss one-and-a-half sword, early 16th century. (Coll. E . A . Christen- sen, E 1 1 ) . grip, a reminiscence of the late-mediaeval sword. The quillons, which often widen towards the ends, are either horizontal or faintly curved. In the cross on the guard is a horizontal bow. Some have two pas- d'kne, connected by a small ring whereas the counterguard: has an oblique bow from the end of one pas-d'he to the cross or there are two crossed oblique guards, one from each pas-d'he. Others have only one pas-d'8ne and a single oblique bow. Belolw the cross there is sometimes a kind of muff of silver. The blades are often i I I Fig. 25. Swiss one-and-a-half sword, early 16th century. (Coli. E. A. Christen- .~I'Il, Ell). grip, a reminiscence of the late-mediaeval sword. The quillons, which often widen towards the ends, are either horizontal or faintly curved. In the cross on the guard is a horizontal bow. Some have two pas- d'ane, connected by a small ring whereas the counterguarct has an oblique bow from the end of one pas-d'ane to the cross or there are two crossed oblique guards, one from each pas-d'ane. Others have only one pas-d'a.ne and a single oblique bow. Below the cross there is sometimes a k;nd of muff of silver. The blades are often 61 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es heavy with one or more grooves. I n a few cases they are Milanese blades, in others Solingen. The mountings on hilt and scabbard are often silver, decorated with ornaments (engraved or chased) in a style recalling i. a. Heinrich Aldegrever and his circle. In this type we see the old mediaeval sword of cross-form surviving under the influence of the new Latin currents, the short grip and the various bows under the quillons and the pas-d'ane. This transitional type was very popular in the Scandinavian countries, where not uncom- monly it appears with a long two-piece grip, pas-d'ane, oblique branches and the like. There are examples in Sweden. I t was popular in Den- mark and is represented by the silver-adorned sword of the Danish nobleman Herluf Trolle (1516-1565) in Herlufsholm Church in Sealand. . A Saxonian type, influenced by the North Italian rapiers or striscias is i. a. the burial sword of Christoph Rosengaard (ob. 1596) in the Cathedral of Roskilde (fig. 26). The heavy Saxonian types are often depicted on the tombstones of Danish nobles. This Saxon type achieved such a wide distribution in Denmark because of the latter's intimate relationship with Saxony through royal marriages and the cultural influence from the Lutheran Eilectorate. Saxon craftmen came to Den- F i g . 26. Silvermounted rapier f r o m the t o m b o f Christoph Rosengaard, o h . 1596. Suxon type with Italian influence. O n the broad silverplate the coat of arms and name o f the owner. (Roskilde Carhedral, Denmark). ........ '\.' heavy with one or more grooves. In a few cases they are Milanese blades, in others Solingen. The mountings on hilt and scabbard are often silver, decorated with ornaments (engraved or chased) in a style recalling i. a. Heinrich Aldegrever and his circle. In this type we see the old mediaeval sword of cross-form surviving under the influence of the new Latin currents, the short grip and the various bows under the quillons and the pas-d'ane. This transitional type was very popular in the Scandinavian cOlUltries, where not lUlcom- monly it appears with a long two-piece grip, pas-d'ane, oblique branches and the like. There are examples in Sweden. It was popular in Den- mark and is represented by the silver-adorned sword of the Danish nobleman Herluf Trolle 0516-1565) in Herlufsholm Church in Sealand. A Saxonian type, influenced by the North Italian rapiers or striscias is i. a. the burial sword of Christoph Rosengaard (ob. 1596) in the Cathedral of Roskilde (fig. 26). The heavy Saxonian types are often depicted on the tombstones of Danish nobles. This Saxon type achieved such a wide distribution in Denmark because of the latter's intimate relat:onship with Saxony through royal marriages and the cultural influence from the Lutheran Electorate. Saxon craftmen came to Den- .,....=;r-.... FiR. 26. Silvennounled rapier from Ihe IOmh of Chdsloph Rosengaard, ·.)h. 1596. Saxon Iype wilh ltalian influence. On Ihe broad silverplale Ihe coal of arms and name of Ihe owner. (Roskilde Cathedral, Denmark). 62 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es mark, sword-makers among them. Sidearms were imported from there or imitated. Swords of Saxon type are reproduced in Danish portrait paintings of the period. Another characteristic Saxon type with its appurtenant left-hand dagger is in the Dlresden A r m o u r y . The hilt has not quite lost its mediaeval form, though it h a s got the modern accessories such as pas-d'ane, side rings and counterguard. The material is iron chkelled in a basketry pattern. There are other sword-rapiers in Dresden with hilts in t h e same basketry pattern and with knuckle- bow and curved parade quillon. Some of the specimens preserved in the Dresden Armoury have Milanese blades others have Sollin- gen blades bearing t h e name of Peter Munsten. Possibly there was some question of a series of swords, made for t h e Electoral life- Fig. 27. Saxonian rapiers, about 1600. Silver incrustations in hilt and g r i p . In the blades: Herman Stof m e fecit Solingen, and stumps. Blade PO the left dared 1619. (Nar. Mus. Copenhagen, 10128 and 10127, muy. fat.). mark, sword-makers among them. Sidearms were imported from there or imitated. Swords of Saxon ~ype are rEproduced in Danish portrait paintings of the period. Another characteristic Saxon type with its appurtenant left-hand dagger is in the Dresden Armoury. The hilt has not quite lost its mediaeval form, though it has got the modern accessories such as pas-d'ane, side rings and counterguard. The material is iron ch:selled in a basketry pattern. There are other sword-rapiers in Dresden with hilts in the same basketry pattern and with knuckle- bow and curved parade quillon. Some of the specimens preserved in the Dresden Armoury have Milanese blades others have Solin- gen blades bearing the name of Peter Munsten. Possibly there was some question of a series of swords, made for the Electoral life- Fig. 27. Sl1xoniall rapiers, ahout 1600. Silver incrusl(/(ions ill hilt and grip. III the blades: Hermall Slof me fecit Solillgell, alld stamps. Blade I\) the left dated 1619. (Nat. Mus. Copellhal!ell, 10128 alld 10127, mus. fot.). 63 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es guards under Christian I (1586-91) and Christian I 1 (1601-1611). Some elegant rapiers are now in the Danish nat-onal museum (fig. 27-28). In connection with the Saxon swords mention must be made of one of the period's most distinguished German chisellers, O t t m a ~ Wetter, who was attached to the Elector's court at the close of the 16th oentury. Actually he was from Munich, whence as a Protestant he had had to flee to Saxony, where he found protection under the Lutheran Elector. For the prince he made a number of sword hilts besides other iron work. One of his most characteristic swords, entirely in black, now in the Royal Arsenal Museunl in Copenhagen, is both signed and dated (1594). And other works from his hand and his school are to be seen in several museums in Germany, Eng- land, U. S . A. (J. Hayward, Studies on Ottmar Wetter, Livrustkamma- ren V. Stockh. 1949). F i g . 28. Smon rapier with wheel- lock pistol. T o it belongs the dagger fig. 14. (Nar. Mus. Copenhagen, I0115 and 10163, mus. fot.). guards under Christian I (1586-91) and Christian Il (1601-1611). Some elegant rapiers are now in the Danish naLonal museum (fig. 27-28). In connection with the Saxon swords mention must be made of one of the period's most distinguished German chisellers, Ottmar Wetter, who was attached to the Elector's court at the close of the 16th century. Actually he was from Munich, whence as a Protestant he had had to flee to Saxony, where he found protection under the Lutheran Elector. For the prince he made a number of sword hilts besides other iron work. One of his most characteristic swords, entirely in black, now in the Royal Arsenal Museum in Copenhagen, is both signed and dated (1594). And other works from his hand and his school are to be seen in several museums in Germany, Eng- land, U, S. A. CJ. Hayward, Studies on Ottmar Wetter, Livrustkamma- ren V. Stockh. 1949). Fig. 28. Saxon rapier with wheel- lock pistol. To it helongs the da/?ger fig. 14. (Nat, Mus. Copenhagen. IO/ /5 and 10163, nlI/S. rot,). 64 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es The most distinguished of the German groups is undoubtedly that belonging to Munich at the Bavarian court. The forms of these swords and their left-hand daggers are particularly good and survi- ceable, of the latest fashion; but what makes them remarkable i s the decoration, the masterly ch-selling-work, in which figures, leaves and flowers stand well in finely cut and blued relief against the gilt background. They are chiefly the work of the two brothers DanieJ and Emanuel Sadeler. Slightly younger is the similarly fine, but p s h a p s somewhat less thorough work of Caspaa Spath. The Sadelers were summoned to Prague by the German emperor Rudolf 11, where they made several cerem~nial weapons, specimens of which are now to be seen in Vienna. The motifs in their chiselled hilts are typical of the period: antique gods and goddesses, herms, fauns, masks, etc., among leaves and flower garlands. Many of the Sadelers' work was dono in collaboration with French artists and designers and all their products bear a light and elegant stamp that suggests French proto- types. Very remarkable are the hilts on some of these swords now in the Victoria and Albert Museum and in t h e Wallace Collection in London, others in Munich and Vienna. Among other things there are the drawings of Etierzne Delaune, which were patterns. The blades in many of the Sadelers' works are Milanese. Round about the year 1700 and in the first half of the 18th century drawings were published on hilts for dress-swords, especially by Augsburg and Nuremberg air- tists. The simplification of these sword hilts in the 17th century was not confined to South and West Europe. One particular form de- veloped. in North Germany about the middle of that century, the so-called Brandenburg sword, wholly devoid of bows and handguard, having a cruciform hilt but more slender and of other proportions than the old mediaeval swords. A typical and unusually fine example of i t is the one in the Victoria and Albert Museum, signed by the chiseller Gottfried Leygebe, dated to 16601-70. Others by the same and other artists repose in the museums of Ebrope and AmeTica, or are depicted in the portrait painting of the time. With hilts such as the later French, Qnglish and Brandenburg we are now on the way to sidearms of an entirely different form. In reality they form a connecting link with the characteristic small- swords of the 18th century, the fine, often elegant and slender dress- swords whose small hilts bear survivals of the old pas-d'sne and whose blades are slender, sharp-pointed and stiff. With the sidearms of the baroque we have arrived at the transitional stage to the last phase of these weapons. This is the last independent epoch before they becorn2 shorn of their artistic significant-to some extent The most distinguished of the German groups is undoubtedly that belonging to Munich at the Bavarian court. The forms of these swords and their left-hand daggers are particularly good and survi- ceable, of the latest fashion; but what makes them remarkable is the decoration, the masterly ch:selling-work, in which figures, leaves and flowers stand well in finely cut and blued relief against the gilt background. They are chiefly the work of the two brothers Daniel and Emanuel Sadel'er. Slightly younger is the similarly fine, but ~~rhaps somewhat less thorough work of Caspa'1" Spiith. The Sadelers were summoned to Prague by the German emperor Rudol/ II, where they made several ceremonial weapons, specimens of which are now to be seen in Vienna. The motifs in their chiselled hilts are t~ical of the period: antique gods and goddesses, herms, fauns, masks, etc., among leaves and flower garlands. Many of the Sadelers' work was dono in collaboration with French artists and designers and all their products bear a light and elegant stamp that suggests French proto- types. Very remarkable are the hilts on some of these swords now in the Victoria and Albert Museum and in the Wall ace Collection in London, others in Munich and Vienna. Among other things there are the drawings of Etienne Delaune, which were patterns. The blades in many of the Sadelers' works are Milanese. Round about the year 1700 and in the first half of the 18th century drawings were published on hilts for dress-swords, especially by Augsburg and Nuremberg a,r· tists. The simplification of these sword hilts in the 17th century was not confined to South and West Europe. One particular form de- veloped in North Germany about the middle of that century, the so-called Brandenburg sword, wholly devoid of bows and h andguard , having a cruciform hilt but more slender and of other proportions than the old mediaeval swords. A typical and unusually fine example of it is the one in the Victoria and Albert Museum, signed by the chiseller Gott/Tied Leygebe, dated to 1660-70. Others by the same and other artists repose in the museums of Europe and America, or are depicted in the portrait painting of the time. With hilts such as the later French, English and Brandenburg we are now on the way to sidearms of an entirely different fonn. In reality they form a connecting link with the characteristic small- sword5 of the 18th century, the fine, often elegant and slender dress- swords whose small hilts bear survivals of the old pas-d'ane and whose blades are slender, sharJrPointed and stiff. With the sidearms of the baroque we have arrived at the transitional stage to the last phase of these weapons. This is the last independent epoch before they becom2 shorn of their artist:c significance-to some extent 65 5 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es their usefulness too, and become simply brazier work, more or less in mass production. Individual swords are made only in special cases. In its best style the sidearm becomes an accessory to the gala uni- form of officers or civil servants, or swords of honour like the French swords from Boutet in Versailles, sabres presented on special W- casions to persons of merit, from generals to N. C. 0 s . As mass arc. cles they become the regulation military swords, sabres, etc, bearing the impress of the particular services who are to wear them and, to some extent, of the style and fashion of the period. Their interest and importance lie elsewhere Their value as art and their cost - with few exceptions - are slight compared with the sidearms of former periods, from the mediaeval sword to the rapiers of the renaissance and thence to the dress-swords of the rococo. their usefulness too, and become simply brazier work, more or less in mass production. Individual swords are made only in special cases. In its best style the sidearm becomes an accessory to the gala uni- form of officers or civil servants, or swords of honour like the French swords from Boutet in Versailles, sabres presented on special oc- casions to persons of merit, from generals to N. C. Os. As mass arti' cles they become the regulation military swords, sabres, etc., bearing the impress of the particular services who are to wear them and, to some extent, of the style and fashion of the period. Their interest and importance lie elsewhere. Their value as art and their cost - with few exceptions - are slight compared with the sidearms of former periods, from the mediaeval sword to the rapiers of the renaissance and thence to the dress-swords of the rococo. 66 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es BIBLIOGRAPHY Ancona, Paolo d' : La miniature Italienne du XI-XVI sieclels. Panz+Bruxelles 1925. Angelucci, A.: Catalogo della Armeria Reale. Tolrino 1890. Blair, : Medieval swords and spurs in Toledo Cathedral (Journal Arms and Armour Soc. London 19519. Vol. 3). Bruhn Hoffmeyer, Ada: Middelalderens tveaggede wawd. Copenhagen 1954. Vol. 1-2. - Introduction to the history of Eiuropean sword. (Gladius 1961. Vol 1, p. 30-75). Buttm, Charles : Les poignards et les sabres marocaines. (Hespms 1999. Vol. 26, p. 1-28). - Une ep& de Oharles-Quint. (A.rmes Anciennas no. 3. 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Hamburg 1912). &itz, Heribert : Some traits of t h e International expansion of edged weapons during t h e XVIth century. (Arm1 Antiche Torino 1956. Vol. 3). Sobejano R. Rubi, Emlllo: Eapadas de Espafia (Arte Espafiol. M a d r ~ d 1956). Tmsca, P. : L a p~ttui-a e l a m i n ~ a t u r a nella Lombardia. Mllano 1912 - Storia dell'arte italiana. Torlno 1927. Valencia Don J u a n , Conde d e : Catalogo historlco-descnptlvo de la Real Armmia d e M a d r ~ d . M a d r ~ d 1898. Vlgy, P. de: Notes 3ur quelques armes du Mueee du D a r Batha & F&. (Hes- perls 1923. Vol. 3, p. 265-74). - Dezxlkme note sur quelques armes d u Musk du Dar Batha a Fes. Les sables marocaines. (Hesperis 1924. Vol. 4, p. 117-31). Zaky, A. R a h m a n : Milltary hterature of t h e Arabs. (Cahiere d'hlstoire Egyp- tienne. In Caire 1955 Ser. VII, 3) - T h e sword in t h e Moslim world. Can-o 1957. (Arabic). G6mez Moreno, Manuel: La espada del Rcy Cat6lico, (Coleccionis:mo 1923. Vo!. 11). - El Pante6n Real de las Huelgas c'~ BUl'gOS. Madrid 1!J4€. Ha-mete, Ben Cobexi: Espadas hispano-arabes. (Mauritania. Timger 1942. Vo!. 15, 'PP. 135-37). Hayward, John: Victoria. and A:bert Museum. Sword", aud Daggers. London 1951. Janssens, Maurlce: Essai de recon titution d'Ull .procM'~ de fabrication des lames d'epees damass~s. (Studiel:i in Con~zrva'ion. Aberdeen 1958. Vo!. 3). Laking, G. F.: A record of European arlllour and arms. London 1920. Vo!. 1-5. Leguina. y Vidal, Enrique: La espada espaflola. Madrid. 1914. M-zrton, A.: Die Buchma~erci in St. Gallen VOIn IX-XI Jahrhundert. Leipzig 1923. Morazzoni, GilL<;eppe: Maioliche e armi antiche di ~nano. :vIilano 1950. Moreno, FrancL~co: Esgrima e~paflola. Madrid 1902. Oakeshott, R. E.: Some medieval sword !Jommel i. (Journai British Archaeo:. Assoc. London 1951. Vo!. 14) ----1 Some early examples of 1I1'Z use of ricasso. (Journ. Arm" and Armour Soc. London 1953). -, The archaeology of weapons. London 1900. Panseri, Carlo: Richerche metallografiche sopra una s!Jada da guerra de: XII secolo. (Documenti e contributi per la storia ch,lIa metalurgia. Mi- lano 1954. Vo!. I). -, La teenica di fabricazione delle lame di acciaio preSl'<! gli antlchi. <Ibi- dem Milano 1957. Vo!. 2). Relanz6n Garcia. Criado, Jose Mal'ia: La corona y :a espada de Sancho IV de Casti11a. (Bo!. Aca1. Bellas Artes Toledo 1959). Rice, D. S.: The blazons of the Baptistere de Saint-Louis. <Bull. School Oriental and African Studies. London 1950. Vo!. 13, p. 367-81). SChwi,ztering, Julius: Zur Geschichte von Speer und Schwert im 12, Jahr- hundert. (Mitt. Mus. Hamburg. Gesch. Hambw'g 1912). Seitz, Heribert: Some traits of the international expansion 01 edged weapons during the XVIth century. (Anni Antiche. Torino 1956. Vo!. 3). Sobejano R. RUbi, Emilio: Espadas de Espana (Arte Espaflol. Madrid 1956). Toesca. P.: La pittura e la miniatura nella Lombardia. Milano 1912. - Storia dell'arte italiana. Torino 1927. Valencia de Don Juan. Conde de: Catalogo hist6rko-descriptivl) d{' la Real AI'me-fia de Madrid. Madrid 1898. Vigy, P. de: Notes 3ur quelques armes du Musee du Dar Batha a. FCs. (Hes- r.eris 1923. Vol. 3. p. 26:}-74). - De:.:xieme note sur quelques armes du MUSE-z du Da'r Batha il Fes. Les sables marocaines. (Hel<peris 1924, Vo!. 4. p. 117-31), Zaky, A. Rahman: Military literature of the Arabs. (Cahiero d'histoire Egyp- tienne. ~ Caire 1955, Ser. VII. 3>' - TIle sword in the Moslim world. Cairo 1957. (Arabic) . .68 Ada Bruhn Hoffmeyer Gladius, II (1963), pp. 5-68 ISSN 0435-029X Digitalizado por InterClassica http://interclassica.um.es Consejo Superior de Investigaciones Científicas http://gladius.revistas.csic.es 
work_qaxiafla7jelpib3jrkug45vxy	----	CLASSICONORROENA, 4 portatur in sylvam cadaver recens, ubi frequentius hae bestiae vagari videntur, praesertim in nivibus altis: (aestate enim nil valent pelles) quo cognito per odorem, et apprehenso, vescitur, donec ventrem instar tympani extensum, inter arbores angustas, non sine cruciatu cogatur exonerare: sicque occupatum, lata dimissa sa gitta venator occidit. Este t alius modus huius bestiae capiendae, per trabes tenuissima chorda distinctas, ut eius levi motu, cadaver edendo stranguletur: vel etiam in effossas scrobes, seu cavemas obliquas, ut fame urgente cadavere immisso vescatur, incidens capitur. Aliaque via vix conceditur, uta cani bus apprehendatur, cum ungulas, dentesque, adeo acutos habeat, ut eius congressum formident canes, qui in ferocissimos lupos vires suas extendere solent [end of Grafeo's Epitome, p. 138]. Huic guloni in avibus magnis assimilantur harpyae, quae in solitudine iuxta mare Ionicum morantur, tam rabidae farnis, ut fere nullo cibo perhibeantur satiari. In marinis monstris ahunus cunctis aliis insatiabilior: cuius corpus extenditur, donec vomitu extenuet ventrem, prout Albertus et Vincentius attestantur. Ita et hippopotamus, fluvialis equus: qui naturali astutia inter arundines pedem vulnerando, saginam deponere novi t. impressaque complanare vestigia, ut venatores fallat insequentes, prout Plinius et Solinus dicunt. SAXO GRAMMATICUS ANO ENNIUS* by Fabio Stok, University of Salerno For the Middle Ages Ennius was little more than a name (for us it is somewhat more: a list of fragments). But not just any name: in Horace, Ennius is the poet et sapiens et fortis et alter Homerus (epist. 2,1,50); in Cicero (Arch. 22), in Ovid (ars 3,409-410) and in Jerome's Chronicon (a.Abr. 1850) he is a poet so great as to meri t a position in the sepulchre of Scipio; in an anecdote recounted by Cassiodorus, Ennius is a prized source ofVirgil' s, dum Ennium legeret [scii. Vergilius], a quodam quidfaceret inquisitus respondit: "Aurum in stercore quaero" (inst. 1,8). A name recurring so frequently, in different authors, could not but excite inter- est on the part of Medieval readers, as well as an ambition to track down his works: Adhelm ofMalmesbury (VII Century) cited 12 Ennius among the titles of the library of the abbey, but obviously knew only the name (see L.Bonhoff, Adhelm von Malmesbury, Dresden 1894, pp. 71 ss.); in the age ofthe Rennaissance Pomponio Leto boasted the possession ofEnnius' Annales, arousing the envy of the other Humanists (see A.J.Dunston, "A Student's Note ofLectures by Giulio Pomponio Leto", Antichthon l [1967], p. 92). Some ofthe attestations that I quote below hypothesised that the work could have been preserved in some codices originating in the Middle Ages and then lost, but this is a hypothesis that c an be disc arde d: at the time ofMacrobio (end ofiV Century) the work of Ennius had already been lost, quia saeculum nostrum ab Ennio et amni bibliotheca vetere descivit, multa ig- noramus, quae non laterent, si veterum lec- tio nobis esset familiaris (Sat. 6,9,9); Corippus (VI Century) drew on quotations of Macrobius and others, as Baldwin has recently shown (see B.Baldwin, "Corippus and Ennius", Illinois Class.Stud. 13 [1988], pp. 175-82). With the impossibility of tracking down the Ennius text, the Middle Ages remembered his name, recovering noticeable appraisals in the sources: Beda (VIII Century) quoted Ennius in De schematibus et tropis (p. 610,20 Rhet.Lat.Min. Halm) by Sedulius, Carm.Pasch. l, 136; Muadwin of Autun took his cue from Ovid (trist. 2,423-424 ), Carmina lusit item variis en maximus odis l Ennius, ingenuis scribens monimenta priorum; l Propterea in terris tenuit tum culmen honoris (ed. Dtimmler I p. 387, 11. 79-81); Theodulus (IX Century) from Mar- tianus Capella's distichum Ennianum (1,42), Adsint praecipue qui curantflorida Tempe, l Quos in distichii serie complec- teris, Enni (ecl. 285-286); Alan ofLille (XII Century), Illic pannoso plebescit carmine noster l Ennius et Priami fortunas intonat (Anticlaud. 1.5, ed. Wright), derives, for Forster, from Priscian, who quotes (gramm. II p. 97 ,}-9 Keil) Ennius' fragment ann. 17 Vahlen [= 14 Skutsch], cum veteroccubuit Priamus sub Marte Pelasgo (see R.Forster, "Zur Handschriftenkunde und Geschichte der Philologie", Rhein.Museum 37 [1882], p. 488); Alan probably also took account of the appraisal of Horace from ars 259-262 (and maybe also from ''fortunam Priami cantabo ... " from 137, which was, however, attributed by Horace to the scriptor cyclicus, and not to Ennius). The interest in Ennius allo w ed Ekkehartus IV, ab bot of Sankt Gal- len (XI Century) to save a couple of frag- ments from the Annales, extracting them from the tradition of Orosius. Again, Dante (XIV Century), for the response of Pyrrhus to the Roman ambassadors, cited (from Cicero aff. 1,38) Ennius's fragments 194- 201 Vahlen2 [= 363-365 Skutsch] (Mon. 2,9,8). In short: the interest of the Middle Ages in Ennius is recurrent, and runs through the entire culture of the Age. Saxo Grammaticus does not quote Ennius, as he does not almost none of the rest of his classica! auctores. But, it is starting from them that he constructs his own stylistic imprint, the lexis and the language of the Gesta Danorum. Recent studies have high- lighted the breadth of Saxo's cultura! back- ground, an d especially the refined technique with which he used his sources in the writing of the Gesta. In this regard Saxo reflects the culture of the French Renaissance of the XII Century: no biographical attestations remain, but it is by now accepted that he received his education in northem France, at Tours or maybe at Orléans. The nickname "Grammaticus" by which Saxo is known starting from the XV Century, is surely not misapplied- the name deriving perhaps from the Compendium Saxonis of 1345, Gesta Danorum quidam egregius grammaticus, origine Syalandicus, nomine Saxo conscrip- sit (ed. Gertz), in which, however, "gram- maticus" has the meaning of "Master of Latin Letters" and thus of "Latinist". Ennius is not quoted by Saxo, as I have already said, and he is not even indicated among the sources of Saxo, for example in the apparatus of Olrik and R(eder. Rather, Ennius is a source of Saxo' s, as we shall see, and is indeed the object of an undertaking of notable interest which reveals the refined strategy of composition this author has. Some clues to the interest shown in Ennius by Saxo have been noted by Karsten Friis- CLASSICONORROENA, 4 Jensen: at 2,1,8 (p. 39,3 Olrik-R(eder), urbs somno sepulta diripitur, the quotation of Virgil, Aen. 2,265, invadunt urbem somno vinoque sepultam, is probably mediated by the comparison with Ennius ann. frg. 292 Vahlen2 [= 288 Skutsch], nunc hostes vino domiti somnoque sepulti, proposed by Mac- robius, Sat. 6, l ,20, source of Saxo (see K.Friis-Jensen, Saxo og Vergil, Kll)benhavn 1975, pp. 43.84-85 and K.Friis-Jensen, Saxo Grammaticus as Latin P o et, Roma 1987, p. 89); otherquotations ofVirgil noted by Saxo are in Justin 43,4,7 and in Dudo of St-Quen- tin 1,4 (p. 131,10 Lair). Friis-Jensen notes again, in the Helga episode (6,6,7-12), the use of Virgil in a satiric mode, analagous with the degree to which Horatian exegesis (Ps.Acron on sat. 1,2,37-38) reveals the use that HoJace makes of Ennius ann. frg. 465 Vahlen [= 494 Skutsch] (see Saxo Gram- maticus as Latin Poet, p. 115). W e are talking about cases in which the presence of Ennius is indirect. The case that I am examining here sees the direct rework- ing of Ennius on the part of Saxo. Replying to his brother Hildigerus, beaten to death by him, Haldanus describes his own shield (it is a mise en abyme, in which the indication to the son killed by Haldanus mirrors the killing of the brother), cf. Gesta Danorum 7,9,15 (p. 204,19-26 Olrik- R(eder): ad caput affixus clipeus mihi Sueticus astat, quem speculator vernans varii caelaminis ornat et miris laqueata modis tabulata coronant illic confectos proceres pugilesque subactos, bella quoque et nostrae facinus spectabile dextrae multicolor pictura notat; medioxina nati illita conspicuo species caelamine constat, cui manus haec cursum metae vitalis ademit. Olrik and R(eder referto Ovid, met. 13,291, neque enim clipei caelamina novi t (Ulysses' words, in the armorum iudicium, on the boorishness of Ajax, incapable of appreciat- ing the decorations on Achilles' shield). Ac- tually Saxo takes into consideration as a priority Apuleius, who in Socr. 2 p. 6,19 Goldbacher quotes Ennius: ut ait Ennius, cliveo miris fulgoribus variata l caelamina (the fragment in generally placed in con- junction with the scenic fragments 215-216 13 CLASSICONORROENA, 4 V ahlen2, Quid noctis videtur? in altisono l Caeli clipeo, from Iphigenia, but the deriva- tion is not certain, see The Tragedies of Ennius, comm. by H.D.Jocelyn, p. 330). That this may be Saxo' s source, is shown by the contextual revision of Cicero, again in conjunction with an attestation ofEnnius, in Tusc. 3,44: vidi ego te adstante ope bar- barica l tectis caelatis lagueatis, l auro e bore instructa regi.fice (in this case from the Andromacha, :fhey are the scenic fragments 94-96 Vahlen ). The outline of the sources is completed by Martianus Capella, certain- ly assumed by Saxo, cf. l ,66: ex qua multi- coloribus notulis variegata p i c tura vernabat (and maybe also by Ilias Latina 630: accipit [scii. Aiax] insignem vario caelamine bal- teum). What is striking is the combination of two different attestations of Ennius. Saxo' s clipeus closely follows especially that of Ennius/ Apuleius, clipeus ... varii caelaminis (Saxo) l clipeo ... variata caelamina (En- nius/ Apuleius); secondarily Saxo could also have taken into account both Ovid and the Ilias Latina. The matching of En- nius/ Apuleius with Ennius/Cicero is clearly pressed for by caelatis, which re-echoes caelaminis from the other fragment (caelamen is quite frequent in Saxo: cf. for example 5,1,6, for the collar that Frotho gives to Gothwara, habebatnamque torques nexilia bullarum caelamina intersitaque regum simulacra). The context of En- nius/Cicero concems Priam' s royal palace, with its panelled ceilings chiselled in gold and ivory. Saxo's attention was probably caught by laqueatus, which he used (in this case only in the Gesta) for the decoration of the shield (forcing the sense a little: the term concems specifically the ceilings). But the contextual analogy may be noted: Saxo talks about an exotic clipeus, Sueticus, exactly as in Ennius/Cicero the Trojan royal palace is decorated ope barbarica. Also the more generai context of Ennius/Cicero, Priam's royal palace destroyed, appeared perhaps fitting to the context of the Gesta, as a fratricide. The undertaking does not come out of Saxo' s usual compositional technique: he 14 gives priority attention to lexical choice, but is guided frequently also by the analogy of contexts (see F.Stok, "Tecniche della imitazione/composizione in Saxo Grammaticus", in Tra contesto e testo. Studi di scandinavistica medievale, a cura di C.Santini, il Calamo, Roma 1994; see also F.Stok, "Die klassischen Vorbilder der Vita des Kanutus Lavard (Saxo Grammaticus, Gesta Danorum, Buch XIII)", in The Audience of the Sagas II, Gothenburg University, Gothenburg 1991, pp. 287-96). But the case examined reveals, I would say, the breadth an d depth of Saxo' s familiarity with classica! texts. I t has been asked, in the past, to what extent Saxo may have depended on the authors he used, and if he may have drawn on epitomes, anthologies and the like. It seems likely, in reality, that Saxo had at his disposal most of the authors that he uses in the Gesta. But what is more important, in Saxo' s compositional technique, is especially the sure command he has of the vocabulary and narrative style of the classica! authors, an d the use he makes of them for the enrichment and refinement of his own poetic and narrative imprint. Finally, we are left with the comparison Saxo made between different fragments of Ennius. A singular undertaking, that seems to ha ve no precede n t in Medie val culture. T o fin d a collection of fragments of Ennius, w e have to wait until 1564, the year in which Henry and Robert Estienne (Robertus and Henricus Stephanus) published the Frag- menta poetarum Latinorum quorum opera non extant. Saxo, in some way, is a pioneer of the philological work of the modems. This is also a confirmation of the fact that Saxo really was grammaticus. * paper presented at a Round-Table Conference "Tbe Intertextual Joumey", Rome 9th November 1993. 
work_qfew4w2mzbhotfqo2kpuk6hipi	----	The exhibition of otherness Cromohs (Cyber Review of Modern Historiography), ISSN 1123-7023, 20/2015-16 © Firenze University Press Performances of entangled emotions and beliefs: French and Spanish cultural transformations on the sixteenth-century Florida peninsula SUSAN BROOMHALL The University of Western Australia Abstract This essay explores how interpretations and practices of entangled emotions and beliefs were critical to European engagement with Florida during the mid-sixteenth century. It analyses emotional performances of religious, racial and cultural beliefs that lay at the heart of colonising activities of both the French and Spanish, articulated in affective forms such as facial expression, gestures, sexual practices and violent acts, and rhetorically in verbal encounters and textual presentations. It contends that these performances occurred both as practices in the Florida region and Europe, and through rhetorical and visual forms in contemporary epistolary, manuscript and printed texts. The study argues that conflicting European activities with indigenous peoples and lands in Florida produced complex emotional and affective labour among European and indigenous agents — rulers, captains, crews, spiritual envoys and diplomatic personnel. This essay suggests new insights into colonial power relations may be suggested by consideration of emotions in cross-cultural performances, in securing diplomatic relations, or as an unexpected, disruptive force to other behaviours within official negotiations. In the eyes of participants, through these entangled belief and emotional performances about Florida, indigenous, French and Spanish peoples were themselves all culturally transformed. The essay analyses performances of entangled emotions and beliefs — religious, racial and cultural — that lay at the heart of colonising activities of both the French and Spanish in a region that has became known today as Florida. These emotional performances of belief, I contend, occurred in multiple sites, both in practices in the Florida region and Europe, and also through rhetorical and visual forms in contemporary epistolary, manuscript and printed texts. I argue that conflicting European activities with local peoples and lands in Florida produced what were perceived as cultural transformations through complex emotional and affective labour that expressed divergent religious, racial and cultural beliefs among European and indigenous agents. These emotional performances were articulated in affective forms through bodies, facial expression and gestures, sexual practices and violent acts. Others were expressed rhetorically in verbal encounters and textual presentations. These were sophisticated forms of emotional labour, performed by a range of participating agents from indigenous and European leaders, captains and crews, to SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 26 spiritual envoys and diplomatic personnel. By the term ‘emotional labour,’ I am following the conceptualisation of sociologist Arlie Hochschild, who argued, in the modern workplace context, that certain roles require particular cognitive emotion work, affective comportment and emotional expression for successful achievement.1 These were not emotional ‘reactions’ to global activities and associated cultural transformations in the sense that they were spontaneous but were instead strategic, managed displays of specific emotional content in particular contexts. However, this is not intended to imply that such labour was not felt and experienced by agents, but rather that choices were being made about what emotions were rendered visible for consumption by others. Moreover, in suggesting that such labour was calculated and with profound political consequences, I do not mean that the emotional performances I study here were political emotions in the sense that they held only, or largely, symbolic valence. Indeed, ambassadors, for example, regularly looked to interpret emotional display in their interlocutors as a potential alternative insight into the latter’s views and feelings.2 Furthermore, emotional labour took place between negotiants both in physically proximate sites, but also between authors and readers, artists and viewers, whose texts were likewise crafted emotional performances with their own assumptions and agendas. This essay explores how interpretations and practices of entangled emotions and beliefs were critical to European engagement with Florida during the mid- sixteenth century. Scholars have rightly highlighted that the term ‘entanglement’ obscures the power relations of colonising relationships that were rarely, if ever, equal.3 However, for my purposes the term ‘entangled’ helpfully alludes to the sense of interwoven complexities of performances that projected and reflected beliefs through emotional practices. The French attempt to control the Florida peninsula, along with the failed France antartique colony, has generally been studied as a political disaster, as its challenge to Spanish colonial dominance in the region was crushed. Scholars have typically focussed upon the politico-religious consequences of the strong Huguenot component of each endeavour, and on the literary and cultural dimensions of French encounters in the Americas.4 However, despite increasing 1 ARLIE RUSSELL HOCHSCHILD, The Managed Heart: Commercialization of human feeling (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1983). 2 On the gendered aspects of their interpretations, see my “Catherine’s tears: diplomatic corporeality, affective performance and gender at the sixteenth-century French court”, in Fluid Bodies: Corporeality in Medieval and Early Modern Europe, ed. by ANNE M. SCOTT, DEBORAH SEILER and MICHAEL BARBEZAT (forthcoming). 3 See, for example, the discussion in STEPHEN W. SILLMAN, “Cultural contact or colonialism? Challenges in the archeology of native North America”, American Antiquity 70, (2005): 55–74. 4 Key studies assessing Florida include FRANK LESTRINGANT, L'expérience huguenote au nouveau monde (XVIe siècle) (Geneva: Droz, 1996); JOHN T. MCGRATH, The French in Early Florida (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2000); FRANK LESTRINGANT, Le huguenot et le sauvage: L'Amérique et la controverse coloniale, en France, au temps des guerres de religion, 1555-1589 (Geneva: Droz, 2004); Les huguenots et l'Atlantique: Pour Dieu, la cause ou les affaires, ed. by MICKAËL AUGERON, DIDIER POTON and BERTRAND VAN RUYMBEKE (Paris: Indes savants, 2009). Lestringant has a new volume specific to Florida forthcoming in 2016, Le Théâtre de la Floride (Paris, Presses de l’Université de Paris-Sorbonne). PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 27 scholarly attention to the importance of analysing emotions in cross-cultural engagements within missionary, mercantile and colonial frameworks during the early modern period, their vital emotional dimensions are only now gaining scholarly attention.5 How were religious, racial and cultural beliefs about others — Catholic, Huguenot or non-Christian, indigenous or European, French or Spanish, women and men — understood and the emotional performances they engendered practised by European powers as they encountered local peoples, and each other, in Florida? Following recent literature that proposes to complicate the grand narrative of European colonialism in the region, this essay aims to offer new insights into colonial power relations that may be suggested by consideration of emotions in cross-cultural performances.6 This essay analyses how French and Spanish colonial agents interacted with local peoples in Florida area. These were not, however, simply acts practised through extra-European activities and sites but were enacted in textual forms designed for European consumption. Moreover, as I explore in the second half of the paper, these same questions and practices were also negotiated by monarchs, ambassadors, spies and agents who likewise negotiated European colonial aims and achievements through highly-situated emotional performances at court, in missives and through bodies. Scholars are increasingly considering emotions as fundamental to European political and diplomatic discourse. In particular, they have considered the performative power of emotions to structure the relationship between rulers and between rules and their subjects,7 and key concepts such as ‘friendship’ as critical to political socialities, hierarchies and interactions in the premodern world.8 Emotions 5 SUSAN BROOMHALL, “Emotional Encounters: Indigenous peoples in the Dutch East India Compa- ny's interactions with the South Lands”, Australian Historical Studies 45, 3 (2014): 350-67; SHINO KON- ISHI, “Early encounters in Aboriginal place: the role of emotions in French readers of Indigenous sites”, Australian Aboriginal Studies 2, (2015): 12-23; “Emotions and Conversions”, Journal of Religious History 39, 4 (2015), special issue ed. by JACQUELINE VAN GENT and SPENCER YOUNG; Bronwyn DOUGLAS, “Agency, affect, and local knowledge in the exploration of Oceania”, in Indigenous Intermedi- aries: New Perspectives on exploration archives, ed. by SHINO KONISHI, MARIA NUGENT and TIFFANY SHELLAM (Canberra: ANU Press, 2015), 103-29; GIOVANNI TARANTINO, “Disaster, emotions and cultures: The unexpected wink of Shiba Kokan (1738–1818)”, Rivista Storica Italiana, forthcoming 2016 (I thank the author for allowing me to read this pre-publication); SUSAN BROOMHALL, “Tears on silk: Cross-cultural emotional performances among Japanese-born Christians in seventeenth-century Bata- via”, Pakistan Journal of Historical Studies (Special Opening Issue: Emotions and Marginalized Communi- ties) 1, 1 (2016): 18–42; MARIA NUGENT, “Indigenous/European encounters” and DONNA MER- WICK, “Colonialism”, in Early Modern Emotions: An Introduction, ed. by SUSAN BROOMHALL (London: Routledge, 2016). 6 Most recently, MARIA XIMENA SENATORE and PEDRO PAULO A. FUNARI, “Introduction: Disrupting the Grand Narrative of Spanish and Portuguese Colonialism”, in Archaeology of Culture Contact and Colonialism in Spanish and Portuguese America, ed. by MARIA XIMENA SENATORE and PEDRO PAULO A. FUNARI (New York: Springer, 2015), 1–15. 7 See HELEN WATANABE-O’KELLY, “Monarchies”, in BROOMHALL, Early Modern Emotions, IV, 1. 8 See, for example, MICHEL REY, “Communauté et individu: Amitié comme lien social å la Renaissance”, Revue d’histoire moderne et contemporaine 38 (1991): 617–25; RANDALL LASAFFER, “«Amicitia» in Renaissance Peace and Alliance Treaties (1450-1530)”, Journal of the History of International Law 4 (2002): 77–99; JEAN-MARIE CONSTANT, “L’amitié: le moteur de la mobilite SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 28 were not merely abstract concepts, although their symbolic valences were vital to political negotiation. They were also lived experiences of specific individuals who acted for declared communities of interest but also in the light of their own objectives. New insights about political life have emerged recently from analysis turning to the consequences of strategic emotional expression and affective comportment in particular contexts.9 At the same time, attention is beginning to be paid to the importance of emotions as part of the ideology and practice of European mercantile, missionary and colonial spaces and regimes.10 Donna Merwick reminds us that European colonialism was a practice that was made up of individuals with feelings — anxieties, fears, uncertainty as well as ambitions and intimacies.11 politique dans la noblesse de la premiere moitié du XVIIe siècle”, in La Noblesse en liberté, XVIe-XVIIe siècles (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2004), 173–87; JEAN-PIERRE DEDIEU, “Amistad, familial, patria, …y rey. Las bases de la vida politica en la Monarquía española de los siglos XVII y XVIII”, Mélanges de la Casa de Velázquez 25, 1 (2005): 27–50; KLAUS OSCHEMA, Freundschaft und Nähe im spätmittelalterischen Burgund, Studien zum Spannungsfeld von Emotion und Institution (Cologne: Böhlau Verlag Köln, 2006); Freundschaft oder ‘amitié’? ein politisch-soziales Konzept der Vormoderne in zwischen-sprachlichlen Vergleich (15–17 Jahrundert), ed. by KLAUS OSCHEMA (Berlin: Duncker & Humblot, 2007); LAURENT SMAGGHE, Les Émotions du Prince: Émotion et discours politique dans l’espace bourguignon (Paris: Classiques Garnier, 2012); FRANÇOIS FORONDA, El espano y el miedo: Golpismo, emociones politicas y constitucionalismo en la Edad Media (Madrid: Dykinson, 2013). 9 See TRACY ADAMS, ‘Married Noblewomen as Diplomats: Affective Diplomacy’, and SUSAN BROOMHALL, ‘Ordering Distant Affections: Fostering Love and Loyalty in the Correspondence of Catherine de Medici to the Spanish Court, 1568–1572’, in Gender and Emotions in Medieval and Early Modern Europe: Destroying Order, Structuring Disorder, ed. by SUSAN BROOMHALL (Farnham: Ashgate, 2015), 51–66 and 67–88; SUSAN BROOMHALL, “Performing Diplomacy: Emotions, Gender and Materiality in Medieval and Early Modern Courtly Relations”, in the Routledge History Handbook for Emotions in Europe, 1100–1700, ed. by ANDREW LYNCH and SUSAN BROOMHALL (London: Routledge, forthcoming). 10 INGA CLENDINNEN, Dancing with Strangers: Europeans and Australians at First Contact (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005); NICOLE EUSTACE, “The sentimental paradox: humanity and violence on the Pennsylvania frontier”, The William and Mary Quarterly 65, 1 (2008): 29–64; Moving Subjects: Gender, Mobility, and Intimacy in an Age of Global Empire, ed. by TONY BALLANTYNE and ANTOINETTE M. BURTON (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 2009); TIFFANY SHELLAM, Shaking Hands on the Fringe: Negotating the Aboriginal World a King George’s Sound (Crawley: UWA Press, 2009); PETER ROBB, Useful Friendship: Europeans and Indians in Early Calcutta (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2014); SUSAN BROOMHALL, “Emotional encounters: indigenous peoples in the Dutch East India Company’s interactions with the South lands”, Australian Historical Studies 45, 3 (2014): 350–67; “Emotions and Conversions,” Journal of Religious History 39, 4 (2015); Emotions and Christian Missions: Historical Perspectives, ed. by CLAIRE MCLISKY, KARIN VALLGÅRDA and DANIEL MIDENA (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015); ANGELIQUE STASTNY, “The politics of friendship: expectations and self- reflection in times of conciliation”, Histories of Emotion, from Medieval Europe to Modern Australia, Blog of the Australian Research Council Centre of Excellence for the History of Emotion, https://historiesofemotion.com/2015/07/31/the-politics-of-friendship-expectations-and-self- reflection-in-times-of-conciliation/ accessed 22 May 2016; SUSAN BROOMHALL, “Shipwrecks, Sorrow, Shame, and the Great Southland: The Use of Emotions in Seventeenth-Century Dutch East India Company Communicative Ritual”, in Emotion, Ritual and Power in Pre-Modern Europe: 1200 to the Present, ed. by KATIE BARCLAY and MERRIDEE BAILEY (Houndmills: Palgrave, 2016); JACQUELINE VAN GENT, “Global trading companies” and “Protestant global missions”, GIUSEPPE MARCOCCI, “Amerindian and African slaves”, PETER A. GODDARD, “Missionary Catholicism”, DONNA MERWICK, “Colonialism”, NICOLE EUSTACE, “Theories of empire”, MARIA NUGENT, “Indigenous/European encounters”, in Early Modern Emotions, ed. by SUSAN BROOMHALL. 11 MERWICK, “Colonialism”, in Early Modern Emotions and previously MERWICK, Stuyvesant Bound: An Essay on Loss Across Time (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2013); The Shame and the PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 29 Furthermore, Pekka Hämäläinen’s research recognises the ways in which different actors, European and indigenous groups alike, in these interactions could be mutually opportunistic.12 With this recent scholarship in mind, the essay examines multiple individual performances of entangled emotions and beliefs that constituted colonising activities of both the French and Spanish not just in Florida but for varied audiences and readers in Europe. This essay considers emotions performed in both acts and texts; that is, through the gestures and faces, speech acts, and rhetorical expression of emotion in written texts, as well as social practices of gift exchange, ceremonies, and bodies employed in ritualised behaviours. ‘Emotions,’ in this context, were neither bodily and intellectual experiences sharply defined nor necessarily interpreted by observers as intended. Words and acts held multiple layers of meaning and consequences beyond the control of those who performed them. Considering emotional experience as performance does not suggest necessarily a degree of falseness or a lack of weight to these behaviours; rather it reflects an understanding of emotional performance as part of a construction of self in a given context.13 The key sources studied here were produced by French and Spanish colonial agents, who were political protagonists and eyewitnesses to the emotional behaviours they experienced, perceived and described in letters, reports, and memoirs, some writing in the moment and others in reflection in the years after the events. In doing so, they were providing presentations of themselves as they created their texts for wider consumption. As such, conformity to contexts and conventions of distinct European readerships were typically prioritised over potentially more socially-confronting emotional performances. Emotional disruptions and cultural transformations at the peninsula Positive relationships with the local Timucua people were vital to French ambitions on the Florida peninsula.14 As a rule, eye-witnesses recounting their experiences in the settlement initally celebrated the willingness of local peoples to Sorrow: Dutch-Amerindian Encounters in New Netherland (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2006). 12 PEKKA HÄMÄLÄINEN, “The Shapes of Power: Indians, Europeans, and North American Worlds from the Seventeenth to the Nineteenth Century”, in Contested Spaces of Early America, ed. by JULIANA BARR and EDWARD COUNTRYMEN (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 2014), 58. 13 JUDITH BUTLER, “Gender as performance”, in A Critical Sense: Interviews with Intellectuals, ed. by PE- TER OSBORNE (London: Routledge, 1996), 109–25; JUDITH BUTLER, Gender Trouble: Feminism and the Subversion of Identity (London: Routledge, 1999). See also WILLIAM M. REDDY, The Navigation of Feeling: A Framework for the History of Emotions (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001); MONIQUE SCHEER, “Are Emotions a Kind of Practice (and Is That What Makes Them Have a History)? A Bourdieuan Approach to Understanding Emotion”, History and Theory 51, 2 (2012): 193–220. 14 A far larger historiography discusses the image of the ‘savage’ gained from a broader range of French interactions in the Americas, especially from Brazil. On the peoples in the area of Florida, see SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 30 forge relationships with them, but they also charted a narrative of increasing challenges and emotional disruptions to the hoped-for French domination of the region. In 1562, Huguenot navigator Jean Ribault had been selected by Admiral of French Navy, fellow Huguenot Gaspard de Coligny, to lead an expedition to found what was hoped would become a colony under French control in the region.15 Arriving in May near the mouth of a river (now St Johns River), Ribault began to establish what he understood, and promoted in his account with pride, as positive alliances with local people. Ribault interpreted the establishment of friendship of the local Timucua through his perception of their positive emotion display ‘withowt any taken of feare or dowbte’, the assistance rendered to the French, ‘shewing unto us the easiest landing place’ and their exchange of material resources: ‘on our parte tokens of assuraunce and frendelynes’ and ‘his lorde […] his girdell in token of assurance and ffrendship’.16 Vanessa Smith has argued powerfully for a slightly later period that in European minds, the rhetoric of friendship absolved colonisers of the suggestion that their actions were calculated.17 French narratives certainly emphasised indigenous agency in creating relationships. Accompanying Ribault was Huguenot nobleman and navigator, René Goulaine de Laudonnière, whose account of his time in Florida was not published until after his death. It demonstrated how he searched for recognisable gestures and facial expressions among the Timucua to understand their agreement. Accepting the French gifts of bracelets, mirrors, and knives, Laudonnière concluded that the chief had ‘indicated that he was very happy and fully satisfied.’18 Encountering a second group across the river, Laudonnière recalled the careful emotional negotiations, and assumptions, of both Ribault and his indigenous counterpart: The two children graciously received the Captain, but the king, their father, showed a kind of gravity and did nothing but shake his head a little. […] The Captain, not knowing how to judge the deportment of this man, thought that he might be jealous because we went first to the other, or that he was not very happy about the marker we had erected […] we indicated by signs that he had come from a great distance on purpose to see him, to make known the friendship that he wanted to have with him. To better ally with him, he drew from a small chest a few trinkets, such as gilt- and JOHN E. WORTH, The Timucuan Chiefdoms of Spanish Florida: vol 1. Assimilation (Gainesville: University of Florida Press, 1998) 15 See JOHN T. MCGRATH, “Admiral Coligny, Jean Ribault, and the East Coast of North America,” French Colonial History 1 (2002): 63-76; Coligny, les protestants et la mer: actes du colloque organisé à Rochefort et La Rochelle les 3 et 4 octobre 1996, ed. by MARTINE ACERRA and GUY MARTINIÈRE (Paris: Presses de l'Université de Paris-Sorbonne, 1997). 16 The first publication of his work was in London, in 1563. JEAN RIBAUT, The Whole & True Discouerye of Terra Florida: A Facsimile Reprint of the London Edition of 1563, ed. by JEANNETTE THURBER CONNOR (Deland: The Florida State Historical Society, 1927), 66-67. 17 VANESSA SMITH, Intimate Strangers: Friendship, Exchange and Pacific Encounters (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 285. 18 ‘Le Roy se mõstra en estre fort ioyeux, & amplement satisfait’. RENÉ DE LAUDONNIÈRE, L’Histoire notable de la Floride situee es Indes Occidentales (Paris: Guillaume Auvray, 1586), 9r. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 31 silver-plated bracelets, and presented them to the king, a few others to his children. This was the reason that the king began to become amiably disposed towards the Captain and us.19 Having thus ‘made alyance and entered into amytie,’ Ribault then claimed the lands for France with a column marked with the date and the arms of the king, Charles IX.20 On modern-day Parriss Island, he tasked a small contingent of men to build a fort, Charlesfort, named for the young monarch, promising to soon return with renewed supplies from France. The eyes of the Huguenot nobility were firmly fixed on the fledgling settlement and Coligny encouraged Charles IX and his mother Catherine de Medici to send reinforcements. Laudonnière was selected for the task of supplying Charlesfort and establishing another settlement on the St Johns River, Fort Caroline. On his arrival in June 1564, Laudonnière was met, in the report of eye-witness, artist Jacques Le Moyne de Morgues, with a warm welcome by the local people: they demonstrated many indications of friendship and favour … The things that we received from these traders were mainly things that they themselves valued the most, things for nourishing or protecting the body.21 While eye-witnesses recounting their experiences in the settlement as a rule celebrated the willingness of local peoples to forge relationships with them, Laudonnière’s memoirs of his second voyage emphasised his particular, personal achievement of strong relationships with the Timucua, who — he recalled — greeted him, crying out ‘with a loud voice in their Indian language Antipola Bonnassou, which means brother, friend, or something similar.’22 The Timucua chief, in 19 ‘Les deux enfans receurent gratieusement le Capitaine: mais le Roy leur pere monstant vne grauité, ie ne scay quelle, ne feit sinon bransler quelque peu la teste: […] le Captaine ne sçachant que iuger du port de cest homme, pensa qu’il estoit ialoux de ce que premieremēnt nous estiõs alle vers l’autre, ou bien qu’il n’estoit trop content de la borne que nous auions plantee. Sur ce ne sçachant que resouldre, l’un fit par signes, qu’il l’estoit venu trouver exprez de lointaine region, pour luy faire cognoistre l’amitié qu’il vouloit auoir auecques luy: pour lauqelle mieux allier, luy tira d’une malette quelque singularitez, comme des brasselets en façon d’or & d’argent, qu’il luy presenta, & quelques autres ioyaux à ses enfans: qui est cause que le Roy se mit à caresser amiablement le Captaine, & nous’. LAUDONNIÈRE, L’Histoire notable, 9v -10r. 20 RIBAULT, Whole & True Discouerye, 70. 21 ‘Quandoquidem multa amicitiæ & favoris indicia demonstrarunt, [...]: eæ verò merces, quas à novis istis negotiatoribus accipiebamus, magna ex parte constabant ex rebus, quæ ab illis maximè æstimantur, nempe quæcumque ad humani corporis alimentum & conservationem spectant’. JACQUES MOYNE DE MORGUES, Brevis narratio eorum quae in Florida Americai provincia Gallis acciderunt (Frankfurt: Theodor de Bry, 1591), secunda pars, 7. On Le Moyne de Morgues’ art, see PAUL HULTON, The Work of Jacques Le Moyne de Morgues: A Huguenot Artist in France and Florida, 2 (London: British Museum Publications, 1977); Laura Fishman, “Old World Images encounter new world reality: Rene de Laudonniere and the Timucuas of Florida”, Sixteenth Century Journal 26, 3 (1995): 547-59; TODD OLSON, “Markers: Le Moyne de Morgues in 16th-century Florida”, in Seeing Across Cultures in the Early Modern World ed. by DANA LEIBSOHN and JEANNETTE FAVROT PETERSON (London: Routledge, 2012), 193-212. 22 ‘À haute voix en leur vulgaire Indien, Antipola Bonnassou, qui vaut autãt à dire, cõme, frere, amy, ou chose semblable.’ LAUDONNIÈRE, L’Histoire notable, 36v. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 32 Laudonnière’s account, actively sought out the French alliance. Crying out from the distance, Antipola, antipola, and showing such great joy that he almost lost his composure. … even recognizing those from the previous voyage, they addressed themselves chiefly to them, using this language … and by evident signs made us understand how happy they were at our arrival.23 Similarly, an anonymous French correspondent writing home to his father in 1564 observed the Timucua ‘making signs as they approached and crying out Amy Thypola Panassoon! which means brother and friend like the fingers of one hand.’24 In judging their relations, French witnesses noted the gestures and looks they interpreted as conveying the joy, excitement and happiness of the renewed encounter but also highlighted details that would be meaningful to their European readership: the use of specific terms that they understood to mean brotherhood and friendship, and gestures of concordance between the parties. The transactional nature of these emotional performances of friendship were, however, evident in French sources. Laudonnière had been instructed to capture local people who could be taken to France, and described in acute detail his interpretation of the emotional display of the two unwilling men whom he had attempted to kidnap. Although the French attempted to appease them with gifts, ‘these they disdained to take, and returned all we had given them, thinking that these gifts obligated them, and in returning them, they would be granted their freedom.’25 Whatever Laudonnière understood of the practices of these men in developing a relationship that could lead to assistance for them, it did not deter him from his own objectives. French pleasantries though came to a fruitless conclusion; the Timucua escaped. Equally Laudonnière’s account also revealed that Timucua leaders could demand sociabilities; that is, as ‘exclusive groups that defined themselves as discrete cohort through specific social and emotional behaviours,’ of their allies, which were deeply challenging for the French.26 The Timucua chief, Satouriona, called upon 23 ‘S’escria d’assez loing, Antipola, Antipola, & estant esmeu de si grande ioye, que presques il perdoit toute contenance, […] mesme recognoissans ceux du precedent voyage, ils s’adressoient principallement à eux pour leur vser de ce langage […] par signes euidents nous faisoient entendre, quel contentement ils auoiēt de nostre venue.’ Ibid., 37r-v. 24 ‘Faisant signe q’ lõ s’approchast, criãt Amy Thypola Panassoon! qui est autãt à dire frere et amy cõme les doigtz de la main.’ Coppie d’une lettre venant de la Floride, enuoyee a Rouen, et depuis au Seigneur d’Eueron; ensemble le plan et portraict du fort que les Francois y ont faict (Paris: Vincent Norment et Jeanne Bruneau, 1565), reproduced in Voyages, relations et mémoires originaux pour servir à l’histoire de la découverte de l’Amérique: Recueil de pièces sur la Floride, ed. by HENRI TERNAUX-COMPANS (Paris: Arthus Bertrand, 1841), 237, 244. 25 ‘Lesquelles ils desdaignoient prendre, & rendoient à l’opposite tout ce qu’on leur avoit donné, pensans que tels dõs les eussent du tout obligez, & qu’en les rendants, la liberté leur seroit octroyee’, LAUDONNIÈRE, L’Histoire notable, 14v. 26 SUSAN BROOMHALL, ‘Introduction’ in Spaces for Feeling: Emotions and Sociabilities in England, 1650– 1850, ed. by SUSAN BROOMHALL (London: Routledge, 2015), 1. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 33 Laudonnière: ‘to show myself a friend of his friends, and enemy of his enemies’.27 Ignoring local conventions of alliance and enmity, Laudonnière declined to fight alongside the Timucua in their wars, arguing that peace among all the groups of the region would be best for them; certainly it was best for him. It was after all ‘the principal goal of all my plans: to gain and maintain them […] while I discovered the goods of the land and tried to strengthen my position there’.28 Satouriana’s problematic demand that Laudonnière fulfil indigenous sociabilities forged in military collaboration disrupted French ambitions for the alliance and marked a key moment in the disintegration of French relations in the region. Moreover, within the French community, there was also evidence of fractures marked by divergent emotional, sexual and moral practices and beliefs. Evidently, the French leadership struggled to control the sexual behaviour of some among the fledging community of settlers. The group comprised a diverse collection of would- be settlers, including Catholics, artisans, labourers, women, prisoners, and foreigners who had been captured but permitted to live freely in the settlement.29 A report by Huguenot Captain Giles de Pysière pinpointed a cohort for whom the Florida site offered an opportunity to practise what he perceived as divergent sexual affinities, men who wanted ‘to live in the greatest abomination and Epicurean life ever heard of, without God, without faith, and without law’.30 The Christian leadership had instructed these men not to pursue sexual relations with local women unless they were formally married. Significantly, Pysière described these men as ‘strangers,’ who did not share the moral values of the Christian majority; they were, he argued, ‘Moors and Savages.’31 He took a dim view of their capacity to form part of the community that he imagined to be building in Florida since ‘it is difficult for them to leave their sluts … to live as decent people and in the company of Christians’. 32 According to Pysière’s report, in the Florida environment, these men had been rendered spiritually and morally incapable of resisting the temptations of native flesh and becoming part of the virtuous Christian community that the French sought to establish. Despite Pysière’s demarcation of these men’s sexual behaviour and moral character as deviant, it was clear from other French reports that the community’s 27 ‘Pour entendre si ie voulois continuer en la promesse que ie luy auois faite, lors que premierement I’estois descendu en ce païs: qui estoit de me monstrer amy de ses amys & ennemy de ses ennemis’. LAUDONNIÈRE, L’Histoire notable, 53r. 28 ‘Le principal but de tous mes dessseins, que de les gaigner & entretenir, […] pendant que ie descouurois les commoditez du païs, & que ie taschois de m’y faire fort’. LAUDONNIÈRE, L’Histoire notable, 94r. 29 As indicated in GILLES DE PYSIÈRE, Discours de l'enterprise et saccagement que les Forsaires de l'isle Floride avoient conclud de faire a leurs capitaines et gouverneurs, estans unis en liberte (Paris, Pierre de Langre, 1565). 30 ‘Viure en la plus grande abomination & vie Epicurienne, qu’il est possible la sacuoir racompter, sans Dieu, sans foy, ne sans loy’. Ibid., Aiij v. 31 ‘Estrangers,’ ‘Mores & sauuages.’ Ibid., Aiij v. 32 ‘Il leur faisoit mal de laisser leurs putains […] pour vivure en gens de bien, & en compaignee de Chrestiens’, Ibid., Aiij v. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 34 emotional engagements with local peoples were clearly sustained by, and generated, erotic and sexual elements. Indeed, scholars are increasingly recognising the importance of the sexual and sensual in colonial project and its lived experiences.33 Settlers appraised native bodies directly alongside assessments of character. Ribault considered the Timucua ‘of a goodly stature, mighty, faire and as well shapen and proportioned of bodye as any people in all the worlde, very gentill, curtious and of a good nature.’34 Laudonnière twice described the children of their ally, Satouriona, particularly favourably: his eldest son Atore was ‘a man that I dare to call perfect in beauty,’ Satouriona’s sons being ‘as handsome and as powerful as can be found anywhere on earth’.35 The near-naked state (to colonists’ eyes) of the Timucua was striking, encouraging sexualised readings of local women and men. French colonists marvelled at the potential emotional and moral capacity that they saw in the local peoples who had chosen to contract alliances with the French. This surprise responded to existing views among Europeans that indigenous peoples in the Americas were rationally and morally inferior, but also justified the decision of the French to engage with them. Ribault found resemblance between colonists’ gendered sensibilities and the comportment of Timucua men and women. The latter he considered ‘well favored and modest and will not suffer that one approche them to nere’.36 Atore was not only handsome but also perfect in ‘prudence, with an honest countenance […] gentle and tractable’.37 One chief ’s daughters, Laudonnière considered, were ‘very well formed and so well taught that I was convinced that their mother had served as a teacher to them and taught them good manners and to strictly maintain their honesty.’38 This moral similitude was important in colonists’ representations of the possibilities of friendship between them. Heterosexual relations between the allies, notably never represented as violence achieving colonial domination, were not disdained. Such politically calculated alliances of European men to local women were widespread colonial practices, which echoed elite political practices of alliance between kingdoms in Europe. Le Moyne related how a young colonist, Pierre Gamble, made his own alliance with chief Adelano, becoming ‘so intimate and beloved of, that the chief gave him his daughter’ and Gamble governed 33 ELEANOR CONLIN CASELLA and BARBARA L. VOSS, “Intimate encounters: An Archeology of Sexualities within Colonial Worlds”, in The Archeology of Colonialism: Intimate Encounters and Sexual Effects, ed. by ELEANOR CONLIN CASELLA and BARBARA L. VOSS (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 1–10. 34 RIBAUT, The Whole & True Discouerye, 69. 35 ‘Homme que j’ose dire parfaict en beauté’, ‘aussi beaux & puissants personnages, qui se puissent trouuer en toute la terre’, LAUDONNIERE, L’Histoire notable, 38r, 37v. Michel de Montaigne’s essay ‘De l’amitié’ has generated interest among scholars in terms of considerations sexual elements of friendship, see discussion in GARY FERGUSON, Queer (Re)Readings in the French Renaissance: Homosexuality, Gender and Culture (Burlington: Ashgate, 2008); and MARC D. SCHACHTER, Voluntary Servitude and the Erotics of Friendship: From Classical Antiquity to Early Modern France (London: Ashgate, 2008) 36 RIBAUT, Whole & True Discouerye, 69-70. 37 ‘Prudence, & contenance honneste […] doux & traictable’. LAUDONNIÈRE, L’Histoire notable, 38r. 38 ‘Si bien formees & si bien aprises, que ie me persuadé aisément que la mere leur auoit seruy de maistresse, & leur auoit enseigné la maniere de bien & estroictement garder l’honnesteté’. Ibid., 42v. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 35 in his absence.39 Sexual, emotional and reproductive transactions, voluntary for some, violent for others, were fundamental to such treaties among settlers and local Timucua. Spanish contemporaries demonstrated deep concerns about the nature of relationships between French and Timucua in Florida. A number of men at the tiny Charlesfort settlement had lost faith in the return of their French compatriots and by 1562, had determined to flee to Havana. There, they were captured and interrogated by the Spanish. One mutineer, Stefano de Rojomonte, was questioned ‘as to whether they had friendship, [and] were friends with the Indians’.40 Rojomonte’s response reflected the initial good relations between the groups: they had great friendship with them and the Indians had always brought them fish and many fruits of the soil and they had safely entered and left their villages and homes, and that they had likewise come to the camp of the said French.41 Spanish reports concerning mutineers from the French settlement increased the anxieties of Philip II of Spain to curtail French influence on the Florida peninsula, which he perceived as a threat to his maritime routes and a contravention to the Spanish claims to the region from the 1513 explorations of Juan Ponce de Léon. In 1564, Philip ordered the governor of Cuba, Diego de Mazariegos, to destroy physical markers of the French claim. Mazariegos charged Hernando Manrique de Rojas with the task. He located one with the assistance of Guillaume Rouffi, a seventeen-year-old French settler. Rouffi had himself been abandoned by the mutineers of Charlesfort, surviving only by being supported in a local Timucua community for two years.42 In March 1565, Philip also equipped experienced naval official, Pedro Menéndez de Avilés, Captain General of the Spanish Fleet of the Indies, and provided him the capitulacion y asiento to capture the French forts, and to defend himself and the Spanish position on the coast so that local peoples could more easily be brought to the Catholic faith.43 Menéndez pursued Philip’s orders vigorously but advised of the difficulties caused by French-Timucua emotional alliances. Indeed, it was the perceived transformative emotional bonds between them that encouraged the violence of the Spanish response. Menéndez warned Philip of ‘the friendship formed by them with the natives who would help them so that even if with great difficulty, cost and 39 ‘Tantam cum illo familiaritatem contraxit, ut ipsi fieret carissimus, atque adeò filiã illi donaret,’ LE MOYNE, Brevis narratio, secunda pars, 15. 40 Laudonnière & Fort Caroline: History and Documents (1964), ed. by CHARLES E. BENNETT (Tuscaloosa: University of Alabama Press, 2001), 95. 41 Ibid., 95. 42 RIBAUT, Whole & True Discouerye, 109-110. See also LUCY L. MANHOLD, “Manrique de Rojas’ Report on the French Settlement in Florida, 1564,” Florida Historical Quarterly 38, 1 (1959): 58. 43 20 March 1565, reproduced in La Florida: Su conquista y colonizacíon por Pedro Menénedez de Avilés; Apéndices, 2, ed. by EUGENIO RUIDÍAZ Y CARAVIA (Madrid: Hijos de J.A. Garcia, 1893), 415-27. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 36 expense we could take it, the Indians would remain our enemies.’44 He recommended therefore that Philip give the French ‘no place, and take over these coast and land so that they can more easily be wiped out’.45 In Menéndez’s mind, Protestants and the local people together formed a malignant community: if other nations should go on settling and making friends with the Indians of the land, it would be very difficult to gain it, especially if the French and English settle there, Lutheran people, who, because the Indians and they are just about of one law, maintain friendship easily with each other.46 Menéndez willingly interpreted the French settlement as a ‘Lutheran’ colony, allowing him to emphasise the dangers of a Protestant-Timucua sociability that justified the force of his own actions in Florida. Despite Menéndez’s fears, not all local peoples were predisposed to a supportive relationship with the French colonists at Fort Caroline. Some assisted the Spanish to establish a fortified base, St Augustine, and to locate the French settlements. By their calculated supported to alternative European agents, local peoples helped to seed further disunity among Christian colonisers and thus to avoid a rapid, joint European domination of the region. On 20 September, Menéndez began an assault that would obliterate the French positions on the peninsula, killing most adult men including the recently-returned Jean Ribault, and capturing some 50 women and children who were taken to Puerto Rico to be integrated in new social and sexual relationships there. A few survivors escaped into the hinterland and a small contingent, including Laudonnière and Le Moyne, limped back to Europe to bear witness to the massacre. Menéndez himself described to his king how he had told the settlers who had agreed to surrender and be hand-cuffed, that they were to be killed because he ‘had a war of fire and blood, as Governor and Captain General of these provinces, against all who had come to settle and plant the evil Lutheran sect in Your Majesty’s lands’.47 A French eyewitness reported that Ribault’s body had been quartered and placed at the four corners of the fort.48 French (‘Lutheran’) 44 ‘Por la amistad que tendrán tomado con los naturales, por que los mesmos naturales les ayudarán de manera que con grandísima dificultad, aunque hagan grandes costas y gastos, se podrían hechar; de mas que aunque los hechasen, los mismos yndios quedarian por nuestros enemigos’. Ibid., 322. 45 ‘Para no darles lugar que se apoderen de aquella costa é tierra, para que con mas facilidad sean hechados de allí’, in Memorial de Pero Menéndez de Aviles in Ibid., 320. 46 ‘Si van algunas otras Naciones á poblarla, tomando como tomarán amistad con los yndios de la tierra, será después dificultosísimo de ganarla y señorearla, en especial si la pueblan los franceses ó yngleses, gente luterana, que por ser los yndios y ellos casi de una ley, como tengo dicho, tendrán con gran facilidad amystad los unos con los otros’. Ibid., 324. 47 ‘Porque senbravan la secta luterana en estas provincias de V. M., é que yo tenia guerra á fuego y á sangre, como Governador y Capitán General deslas provincias, contra todos los que destas partes viniesen á poblar y plantar la mala secta luterana’, Letter from Menéndez de Avilés to Philip II of Spain, 15 October 1565, in La Florida, 2, 89. 48 Huguenot carpenter and lay preacher, Nicolas Le Challeux, citing the report of Christofle le Breton, in his Deuxième voyage du Dieppois Jean Ribaut à la Floride en 1565, ed. by Gabriel Gravier (Rouen: Henry Boissel, 1872), 46. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 37 attempts at emotional and spiritual transformation of the Florida peninsula were represented with horror in Menéndez’s narrative of his own emotional and violent response. Now it was Menéndez’s chance to build relations with local people, although he warned Philip that the transformations wrought by French emotional and belief performances would take years to undo. These French held many Indians for friends, who have shown much feeling for their loss, especially for two or three teachers of their evil sect which they taught to the caciques and Indians, who followed after them like the Apostles after our Lord. It is a thing of admiration to see how these Lutherans enchanted the poor savage people. I shall seek all possible means to win over these Indians who were such friends of the French.49 In Menéndez’s view, Timucua and ‘Lutherans’ were, it seems, natural allies in their shared wickedness. However, it was precisely through these close relationships that he was able to build local and linguistic knowledge to build the new settlement, relying on former French colonist Rouffi as a mediator with local peoples.50 However, colonial rule would, with time, require Menéndez and his Spanish crews to accept their own moral transformation at the peninsula, one that would enable the Spanish leader to be incorporated into local Florida politics. Interestingly, much as the French had judged local peoples, the Spanish found much to appreciate about the local Calusa peoples who assisted them. Solís de Merás described their leader, Carlos, as ‘very much of a gentleman’ and a Spanish captive later considered him ‘the handsomest and largest of all that region, and an energetic and powerful leader’.51 Signs of friendship and assistance by the Calusa emotionally predisposed Spanish observers to positive and sympathetic assessments of native people, but these were often proferred with a note of surprise being framed by European assumptions about indigenous moral and emotional inferiority. Both these elements were reflected in the earlier account of explorer Álvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca who had been shipwrecked in the Florida region in 1527, observed an reciprocal empathetic response 49 ‘Estos franceses tenian muchos yndios por amigos, y an mostrado mucho sentimiento por su perdición, en especial por dos ó tres maestres de su mala secta que enseñavan á los caciques é yndios y se andavan tras ellos como los apóstoles tras Nuestro Señor; que es cosa de admiración ver como estos luteranos travan encantada a esta pobre gente salvage. Yo procuraré lo posible de ganar la v duntad á estos yndios que eran amigos destos franceses’. Letter from Menéndez de Avilés to Philip II of Spain, 15 October 1565, in La Florida, 2, 87. 50 ‘Guillermo’, Menéndez’s interpreter with local peoples, whose role is documented in the Memorial del Dr. Gonzalo Solís de Merás’s account in La Florida, 1, ed. by RUIDÍAZ Y CARAVIA (Madrid: Hijos de J.A. Garcia, 1893) 51 STEPHEN EDWARD REILLY, “Marriage of Expedience: The Calusa Indians and Their Relations with Pedro Menéndez de Aviles in Southwest Florida, 1566-1569”, Florida Historical Quarterly 59, 4 (1981), 402–3. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 38 with the local peoples who assisted him for eight years before he made contact with Spaniards in the north of today’s Mexico: The Indians, understanding our full plight, sat down and lamented for half an hour so loudly they could have been heard a long way off. It was amazing to see these wild, untaught savages howling like brutes in compassion for us. It intensified my own grief at our calamity and had the same effect on the other victims.52 Cabeza de Vaca’s account is suggestive of Hämäläinen’s argument that a ‘shared sense of weakness, combined with an acute sense of vulnerability from without, renders people more willing to embrace others across seemingly insurmountable cultural divides’.53 Individual objectives inevitably shaped many of these Spanish accounts, just as they did those of the French. The Catholic Priest Bartolomé de Las Casas, who had left the Americas in the late 1540s, disdaining the violence of Spanish colonial activities, offered in his A Brief Account of the Destruction of the Indies (published in Seville in 1552) a sympathetic reading of the emotional disposition of indigenous people as ‘naturally so gentle, so peace-loving, so humble and so docile’.54 As such, they deserved, he argued, the kindness of the Christian message. In practice, the Spanish appeared as susceptible to local charms and engaging in sociable relations as had the French ‘Lutherans’. Further events also suggested the willingness of leading Spanish agents to overlook Catholic rites and moral practice temporarily, flexibly applying their religious beliefs where it served national colonial ambitions. By 1566, the Calusa leader, Carlos, sought to embed Menéndez further in kinship ties. As chronicler Gonzalo Solís de Merás reported, Carlos sought Menéndez ‘as his older brother, … he wanted to give him for a wife an older sister whom he loved.55 In doing so, Solís de Merás claimed, Carlos hoped that Menéndez ‘might take her to the land of Christians, and that when she returned, if he sent her back, he would go likewise and become a Christian, with all his Indians, which seemed better than being an Indian.’56 52 ÁLVAR NÚÑEZ CABEZA DE VACA, Adventures in the Unknown Interior of America [1542], trans. by CYCLONE COVEY (1961) (Alburquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1983), chapter 19, accessed online http://www.ibiblio.org/eldritch/cdv/rel.htm 53 HÄMÄLÄINEN, The Shapes of Power, 62. 54 BARTOLOMÉ DE LAS CASAS, A Short Account of the Destruction of the Indies, trans. by Nigel Griffin (London: Penguin, 1992), 6. 55 ‘Le dixo que le quería tomar por su hermano mayor, […] que le quería dar por mujer une hermana que tenía, mayor que él, á quien quería mucho’, La Florida, 156. See also EUGENE LYON, The Enterprise of Florida: Pedro Menéndez de Avilas and Spanish Conquest of 1565-1568 (Gainesville, 1976), REILLY, Marriage of Expedience, 395-421; and more broadly, DAVID J. WEBER, “Foundations of Empire: Florida and New Mexico”, The Spanish Frontier in North America (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1992); JOSÉ RABASA, Writing Violence on the Northern Frontier : The Historiography of Sixteenth-Century New Mexico and Florida and the Legacy of Conquest (Durham: Duke University Press, 2000); ROBERT C. GALGANO, Feast of Souls: Indians and Spaniards in the Seventeenth-century Missions of Florida and New Mexico (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2005) 56 ‘Para que la llevase á tierra de cristianos y se la volviese á inviar, que cuando volviese, él iría también y se haría cristiano, con todos sus indios, que le parecía que era meor que no ser indio’, La Florida, 1, 156–7. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 39 Carlos’ rhetorical submission, and carefully calculated, apparent willingness to undergo social transformation to Spanish religious and cultural beliefs represented a considerable challenge to Menéndez, not merely because he was already married. Solís de Merás’s account of Menéndez’s bigamous marriage framed his leader’s actions as a complicated acceptance of a delicate diplomatic situation into which he had been tricked by Carlos. This interpretation reinforced longheld European views about the untrustworthiness of indigenous peoples while conveniently excusing Menéndez’s crime. After a lavish ceremony in which Menéndez was feted as guest of honour, Carlos had announced Menéndez was to take his new wife back to the ships. When Menéndez stalled for time, declaring he could not have a non-Christian wife, the ‘cacique replied that he and his sister, and he and his people, were [Christians], having taken him [Menéndez] as his elder brother.’57 Indigenous assertions about Christian spiritual beliefs were a powerful complicating factor to these negotiations. Back at the ship, Solís de Meris emphasised Menéndez’s torment about his own spiritual beliefs but argued that he was eventually persuaded by his men that ‘they should baptize and give her a name; and the Adelantado sleep with her, because this would be a great beginning to trusting him and other Christians.’58 Through his body and that of ‘Doña Antonia’, Menéndez had thus secured a key intimate and social relationship that firmed up a political alliance with the Calusa. However, the depiction of this strategic engagement had to be carefully constructed in Spanish memoirs as an emotional performance of surprise, angst and finally sacrifice. Emotional performances in these encounters were in each case calculated transactions by all parties, intended to serve the objectives of those concerned as well as disrupt those of others. They were highly dynamic practices that commonly led to transformations of both European and local peoples in the eyes of others. The French described Timucua facial expressions, corporal gestures and repetition of social acts of gift-acceptance, support, and introductions to other local networks of sociability that engendered trust, that the French interpreted as demonstrating positive emotions and desire for friendship, just as did the Spanish of the Calusa. These political transactions included vital emotional and corporeal components expressed through heterosexual cross-cultural practices. Some authors, notably Laudonnière, celebrated the powers of persuasion and influence of their own emotional labour in forming personal relationships that were vital for the fledgling settlement, and held significant consequences for European kingdoms. These texts, in which were revealed forms of indigenous strategic action and individuals as powerful emotional interlocutors, were produced in French and Spanish sources for European readers, seemingly constructing an emotional satisfying narrative of the challenges and success of French crews or demonstrating the role of local peoples as 57 ‘El cacique le respondío que ya su hermana y él y su gente lo eran, pues le había tomado por hermano mayor’, La Florida, 1, 164. 58 ‘La bautizasen é pusiesen nombre, é que el Adelantado durmiese con ella, porque sería este gran prencipio para que se confiasen dél é de los demás cristianos’. La Florida, 1, 165. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 40 active agents who contributed to Spanish dominion in their region. Moreover, it was not only indigenous peoples who were culturally transformed by these interactions on the Florida peninsula; in the eyes of Spanish and French witnesses, it was also each other. While Europeans saw indigenous acculturation to European faith and cultural beliefs as beneficial (both to themselves and locals), European transformations at the peninsula held a more ambiguous charge. Significantly, although the French saw limits to the similitude of beliefs they perceived to share with local peoples, as they made their accounts afterwards, Spanish observers did not agree. The latter perceived a dangerous resemblance of beliefs and values between the ‘Lutherans’ and indigenous peoples who were both, to Spanish Catholic onlookers, excluded from their notion of the Christian community and thus, ‘Other’. European transformations of themselves and others justified an intensely emotional, violent, response. By contrast, the evident transformations that they too underwent as a result of their emotional interactions with the Calusa, entailing spiritual compromises and moral ambiguities, were represented for European audiences as sacrifices for the benefit of Spain. Disruptive emotions and diplomatic translations Emotional performances about French and Spanish colonising activities in Florida were not just produced on the peninsula but also practised as complex emotional labour in Europe.59 All we know of European and indigenous behaviours and expressions in Florida is narrated in visual and textual sources in printed and manuscript letters, reports, and memoirs circulated in Europe, that were themselves participating in emotional performances for readers and viewers about these events. Additional to those documents studied above were multiple texts by ambassadors, courtly officials and rulers embedded in challenging cross-cultural ceremonial gift, epistolary and bodily exchanges, ceremonial displays and representational interviews about transactions on the Florida peninsula. These were likewise emotional practices that were negotiated across faiths, cultural beliefs and nation states with different colonial objectives. Bertrand Haan has argued that the Franco-Spanish friendship of this period between princes was a social and political contract founded on mutual aid.60 Denis Crouzet and others have also demonstrated how a complex enactment of evolving sociabilities among factions at a time of dispute during the 1560s and 59 Discussion of the political import of the diplomatic interactions can be found in JEAN-MICHEL RIBERA, “Un conflit revelateur: l’affaire de la Floride”, in Diplomatie et espionnage: les ambassadeurs du roi de France auprès de Philippe II: du Traité du Cateau-Cambrésis (1559) à la mort de Henri III (1589) (Paris, Honoré Champion, 2007) and more broadly, VALENTÍN VÁSQUEZ DE PRADA, Felipe II y Francia (1559-1598): Polítca, Religión y Razón de Estado (Pamploma, Ediciones Universidad de Navarra, 2004). 60 BERTAND HAAN, L’amitié entre princes: Une alliance franco-espagnole au temps des guerres de Religion (1560- 1570) (Paris, Presses univesitaire de France, 2011), 1. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 41 1570s in France entailed multiple emotional performances.61 These articulated religious, racial and cultural beliefs for their protagonists, as the identity of the rulers and the kingdoms that they led slowly transformed as a result of their Florida encounters. This section explores how different emotional practices maintained official diplomatic channels, offered alternative interpretations that could not be voiced formally, and provided a mechanism to alleviate frustrations and give space for disruptive emotions. Expressions of shock and surprise constituted key elements of the emotional performance of the Spanish king in response to France’s initial actions on the Florida peninsula. In April 1565, the French ambassador at the Spanish court, Jean Ébrard, seigneur de Saint-Sulpice, warned Charles IX that Philip intended to send Menéndez with a fighting force to the French settlements in Florida.62 Philip too sent a series of letters to his ambassador at the French court, Francesco Beaumont y Alavá, designed to warn Charles IX and his mother Catherine de Medici. Philip expressed his amazement that ships sponsored by the French political leadership would encroach known ‘Spanish territories’ in Florida.63 Thus, he instructed Alavá to convey to Catherine in June 1565: that I have marveled as is reason at news so foreign to the friendship between me and the Christian King, her son, [...] having understood, as is said, that they have primed the said seven ships to go to Florida by the commandment of the Admiral and the Christian Queen.64 Philip invoked his territorial rights but also articulated surprise that a friend, Charles, could do such a thing to him, although he displaced the specific responsibility for the order to Huguenot Admiral Coligny and Catherine. A clear concern voiced by the Spanish was the strongly Huguenot composition of the new settlement. Philip left the Duke of Alba to inform more forcefully Raimond Beccarie de Pavie, seigneur de Fourquevaux, the new French ambassador at the Spanish court, that the French settlement was both ‘an usurpation’ and that Spain knew that ‘they sent ministers with their wives and children.’65 Philip subsequently framed the settlers not as French subjects but as ‘pirates and disturbers of the public peace,’ insisted that 61 DENIS CROUZET, “«A strong desire to be a mother to all your subjects»: A Rhetorical Experiment by Catherine de Medici”, Journal of Medieval and Early Modern Studies 38, 1 (2008), 103–118; SUSAN BROOMHALL, “Ordering Distant Affections”, in Gender and Emotions, ed. by SUSAN BROOMHALL. 62 St Sulpice to Charles IX, 3 April 1565, Correspondance de Jean Ebrard, seigneur de Saint-Sulpice, de 1562 à 1565, ed. by EDMOND CABIÉ (Paris: A. Picard, 1903), 364. 63 Philip II to Alavá, 2 June 1565, Negociaciones con Francia, 7 (Madrid: Editorial Maestre, 1953), 372. 64 ‘De que me he maravillado tanto como es razón de una novedad tan agena de amistad que ay entre mí y et Rey Christianísmo, su hijo, [...] habiendo entendido, come está dicho, que se han aprestado los dichos siete navíos para ir a la Florida por mandamiento des Almirante y comisión y orden de la dicha Reina Christianísima’. Ibid., 372-3. 65 ‘Usurpation’, ‘l’on y a envoyé des ministres avc leurs femme et enfans’, Fourquevaux to Charles, 24 December 1565, Dépêches de M. de Fourquevaux, ambassadeur du roi Charles IX en Espagne, 1568-1572, 1, ed. by CÉLESTIN DOUAIS (Paris, Ernest Leroux, 1896), 17. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 42 any colony was not in keeping with the ‘brotherhood’ that he had with Charles nor the ‘clarity and sincerity with which he had proceeded,’ but closed his missive by assuring Charles of his ‘love, accordance and brotherhood.’66 Equally Charles emphasised the relationship he enjoyed with Philip as a familial one, terming the king ‘my brother’.67 Insisting on an intimate relation between them, he rejected Philip’s assessment of the specific lands on which the French settlements were established as Spanish claims, demanded French rights to free navigation in the region, and clearly confirmed those who had established the colonies as his subjects acting in French interests: to suggest that they have concerns for their vessels returning from there, between friends this concern does not exist; my actions and those of my subjects are so sincere that not only the Catholic King but any friend I have will find the same assurance that he would have asked of his own subjects.68 Charles identified Philip as an especially close friend, which assumed a set of honest behaviours with each other. Nonetheless, his emotional evocations were coupled with allusions to the more legalistic and political framework of the peace treaties that existed between Spain and France, including 1559 Treaty of Cateau- Cambrésis. This treaty had been sealed with the intimate bodily and emotional transaction of marriage between Philip II and Charles’ sister, Elisabeth, just as were French and Spanish alliances with the Timucua and Calusa, and, it was hoped, would be sustained through their reproductive labour. Such references, however, somewhat diluted the emotional force of Charles’ reponses as acts of empathetic reciprocity. When news broke of the intra-European violence on the peninsula, in expectation of a strong response from France, Philip sought to provide a rationale that could perhaps allow Charles and Catherine to save face, but only if they acquiesced to his political agenda and beliefs. He directed Alavá to indicate that he assured himself that in no way did he imagine that the site had been occupied by order of Charles and Catherine ‘but rather that they would be displeased, as is reason 66 ‘Pyratas fractorez y perturbantores de la pas publica’, ‘pensava no tratar mas dello pero que la hermandad que tienne con el Roy Chrismo y la claridad y sinceridad con que a de proceder con el’, ‘el amor conformiadad y hermandad’. Plainte de l’ambassadeur du Roy catholique presentée au Roy Très Chrestien sur le faict de la Floride, Douais (ed.), “Lettres de Charles IX à M. de Fourquevaux, ambassadeur du roi Charles IX en Espagne, 1568-1572,” Mémoires de l'Académie des sciences et lettres de Montpellier; Section des lettres, 2e série, vol. 2 (1897), 3. 67 ‘Mon Frere’, Charles to Fourquevaux, 28 November 1565. Ibid., 1. 68 ‘D’alleguer l’umbre qu’ilz peuvent avoir pour leurs vaisseaulx qui retourneront de plus avant, entre amys ceste consideration là n’a poinct de lieu; d’autant que je veulx et entendz que les actions et depportemens de moy et de mes subgectz soyent si sinceres, que, non pas le Roy Catholiques seullement, maiz le moindre amy que je puisse avoir y trouve la mesme seuretté qu’il scauroit demander de ses propres subgectz’, Charles to Fourquevaux, 28 November 1565. Ibid., 1-2. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 43 and what is due to our brotherhood’.69 Philip focussed ever more closely on the contentious Protestant dimensions of the Florida settlement, insisting upon the threat of rebellion of a settlement he described as comprised of ‘Lutherans of diverse nations, as much French as others’, whose presence there ‘might give rise to even the Indians to rebel, and take the heart of any Spaniard over there.’70 Echoing Menéndez, Philip conceptualised a dangerous faith endeavour on the peninsula that would engender a local emotional response threatening to his nation’s interest. The king then targetted Coligny ‘as a disturber of the peace and cause of the disorder that had ensued’ for sponsoring the mission and insisted that Charles punish him accordingly.71 Fourquevaux’s assessment to Catherine of his interviews with the king and the Duke of Alba concluded that the Spanish strategy would be ‘to attack the Admiral to cover and disguise the wrong that they have done in killing your subjects.’72 This conceptualisation of a Catholic brotherhood that excluded Charles’ Huguenot subjects such as Coligny was unacceptable to Charles and to a religiously- fractured France in which Huguenots formed a sigificant force in the elite French political and social community. Indeed, as Fourquevaux warned, for France’s Huguenots, Philip’s orders would be ‘the best news that they could see, for instead of Your Majesties being fortified in your friendship and alliance to value, help and assist each other in your great affairs, your subjects were instead murdered and chased away.’73 Philip’s purposeful emotional performance of a delighted shared spiritual union across their kingdoms undermined the fragile balancing of religious practices within France. Friendship was a conveniently capacious concept for political engagement, as scholars have noted.74 French evocations of the idea demanded that Philip consider his duties to uphold, rather than undermine, the authority of a brother and sovereign of an independent nation. Menéndez’s actions that had been undertaken in the name of both Spanish and Catholic interests proved immensely complicated for Charles and his mother, Catherine, who may have shared Philip’s faith but neither his hardline approach to extermination of Protestants nor his colonial interests. Their pursuit of justice for the victims of the Florida massacre emphasised Charles’ 69 ‘Sino que antes les habrá desplacido dello, come es razón y lo deben a nuestra hermandad’, Philip to Alavá, 23 February 1566, Negociaciones con Francia, 8 (Madrid: Editorial Maestre, 1954), 248. 70 ‘Luteriens de diverses nations, tant François que autres’, ‘il donneroit occasion aux mesmes Indiens de rebeller, et osteroit le cueur à ses Espaignolz d’y habiter’, Fourquevaux to Catherine, 9 April 1566, Dépêches, 1, 72. 71 ‘Comme perturbateur de la paix et cause du desordre adven’. Fourquevaux to Charles, 22 February 1566. Ibid., 60. 72 ‘S’atacquer contre Monsieur l’Admiral pour couvrire et desguizer le tort qu’ilz vous ont faict de tuer voz subjectz’. Fourquevaux to Catherine, 23 February 1566. Ibid., 63. 73 ‘La meilleure nouvelle qu’ilz peussent entendre de veoir que du cousté et endroit d’où Voz Majestez pençoient s’estre fortiffiez d’amytié et alliance pour vous en valoir et estre secorez et assistez en tous grandz afferes, ce fut de là que voz subjectz estoient meurtriz, deboutiz et chassez’. Fourquevaux to Catherine, 9 April 1566. Ibid., 71. 74 See note 8 above. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 44 obligations to protect his subjects and the cruelty with which they had been murdered by representatives of an ally nation. In a memoir composed in May 1566, Charles considered that they make quite clear the little will they have that justice be done to the authors of such a barbarous and inhumane act; nevertheless, considering how such an intervention carries to his greatness and reputation, His Majesty has chosen the means most appropriate to their friendship, which is to remonstrate on the wrong that was done to him and to beg him to maintain the same respect that he would desire to be used by His Majesty.75 Despite the slim prospect of a satisfactory Spanish response, Charles insisted that Fourquevaux continue to pursue the matter, hoping that Philip ‘would love better to please such a great King, an ally so close and a friend so useful, in doing him justice than to upset him in pardonning brigands’.76 What was at stake was not only the two monarchs’ continued personal relationship but also political support as sovereign leaders: this cruel murder which cannot be excused or concealed between friends by the Catholic King without showing what little esteem that he holds for the friendship and kindness of so great a King, from whom he can receive such good, convenience and advantage for the maintenance of his grandeur than any other friend whatsoever that he could have.77 Charles reformulated the relationship as not only family and allies but also as monarchs who formed a unique and exclusive community of men in commanding positions of rule who ought to share, and practise with each other, values of authority that served to maintain their mutual status and power. During these epistolary negotiations between French and Spanish rules regarding colonial ambitious, the capacious and ambiguous concepts of brotherhood and community maintained lines of communication through a carefully considered dialogue of emotional performance, sustaining a productive relationship necessary for their protagonists’ political status and future actions. 75 ‘Il ayt assez congneu avec combien de raisons colorées ilz veullent justiffier leur execution, par où ilz demonstrent assez le peu de volunté qu’ilz ont que justice soit faicte des autheurs et executeurs d’ung acte si barbare et inhumain; ce neantmoins, considerant combien une telle entreprinse importe à sa grandeur et reputation, Sa Majesté a choisy le moyen plus convenable à leur amityé, qui est de luy remonstrer le tort qui luy est faict et le prier luy garder le mesme respect qu’il desire luy estre usé par Sa Majesté et que jusques icy luy a esté usé en tout ce qui La touche’, Charles IX. Memoire, 12 May 1566, “Lettres de Charles IX,” 23. 76 ‘Aymera myeulx contenter ung si grant Roy, son si proche allyé et si utille amy, en faisant justice, que le mal contenter en pardonnant à des brigands, de qui la vye ne luy peult apporter aucun bien à l’advantaige de ses affaires’. Ibid., 24. 77 ‘Ce cruel meurtre, qui ne peult estre entre amys excusé ny passé soubz dissimulation par le Roy Catholicque sans monstrer que il faict peu d’estime de l’amityé et bienveuillance d’ung si grant Roy, de laquelle il peult plus recevoir de bien, commodité et advantaige pour le maintient de sa grandeur que d’aultre amy quelconque qu’il scauroit avoir’. Ibid., 23. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 45 However, just had occurred on the Florida peninsula, assessing other emotional performances and gestural display of parties in audiences and interviews as insights to political meaning were vital for ambassadors and their readers.78 When French amabssador Fourquevaux reported to Catherine in February 1566 the certain news of the violence that had transpired in Florida, he emphasised the mood of the Spanish court, ‘rejoicing more than if it had been a victory over the Turk: also they say that Florida is more important to them than Malta.’79 Catherine de Medici conveyed to Fourquevaux both Alavá’s warning about Philip’s impassioned sentiments and her assessment of Alavá’s own emotionally-charged response: ‘the Ambassador, showing himself little satisfied by all these reasons […] began to tell me that his master could not tolerate these ways of acting without being affected by it; I took these words as a threat’.80 Catherine’s analysis highlights the importance of emotional display by ambassadors as well as rulers for both political insight and content. At the Spanish court, her daughter, Elisabeth, similarly offered an important and intimate assessment of Philip’s perceived intensity of feelings regarding the matter.81 She reported to Fourquevaux her concerns for the French in the region, warning that ‘nothing is more certain than that the King takes to heart the matter of Florida, to employ there all the force he can so as to chase away the French’.82 The queen, herself the subject of bodily transaction for a political cause, occupied a vital emotional and corporeal role as a mediator between French and Spanish interests. Likewise, Alavá detailed the affective outbursts and reactions of Catherine in a number of meetings after the news of the Florida massacre had been relayed to France. Demonstrations of anger were particularly complex, for within contemporary society, visible displays of violent passion had gendered interpretations and power dimensions. Expressions of anger were conventionally permitted by those in positions of superiority, such as rulers, over subordinates such 78 See BROOMHALL, “Catherine’s tears,” and “Performing Diplomacy”. On the diplomatic labour of the interview environment in a broad historical context, see Paroles de négociateurs. L’entretien dans la pratique diplomatique de la fin du Moyen Âge à la fin du XIXe siècle, ed. by STEFANO ANDRETTA et al. (Rome: École française de Rome, 2010) 79 ‘Ceste court s’en est plus resjouye que si ce fut pour une victoire obtenue contre le Turc. Car aussi ont ilz dict et dient que la Floride leur importe trop plus que Malte’. Fourquevaux to Charles, 18 February 1566, Dépêches, 1, 56. 80 ‘L’ambassadeur se monstrant estre peu satisfaict de toutes ces raisons, […] est entré à me dire que son maistre ne pouvoit tollérer telles façons de faire sans s’en ressentir, avec quelques paroles que j’ai prises pour menaces’. Catherine to Fourquevaux, 20 January 1566, Lettres de Catherine de Médicis, 2, ed. by H. DE LA FERRIÈRE (Paris: Imprimerie nationale, 1885), 342. 81 On the shifting familial and political negotiations between Catherine de Medici and her daughter, Elisabeth de Valois, see BROOMHALL, “«My daughter, my dear»: The correspondence of Catherine de Medici and Elisabeth de Valois”, Women's History Review 25, 4 (2015), 548-69; and HAAN, L’amitié entre princes, 35–54. 82 ‘Nestre rien plus certain que le Roy Catholique prend à cueur le faict de la Floride, pour y employer ce qu’il pourra de ses forces pour en dechasser les François qui s’en sont emparez’, Fourquevaux to Catherine, 3 November 1565, Dépêches, 1, 9–10. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 46 as ambassadors.83 However, as Tilman Haug has argued, provoking strong emotions such as anger in others could offer diplomats valuable insights.84 What were perceived to be uncontrolled emotional displays by a woman, even a powerful one, and subordinates were interpreted by the Spanish as evidence of French weakness of character, which offered them a power in diplomatic negotiation.85 Alavá provided descriptions in cipher of Catherine shaking her head as she heard his explanation for events.86 Describing for Philip their encounter in March 1566, as Alavá began to broach the matter of Florida, he wrote: Before I even spoke a word, the Queen jumped up and became like a lioness, while turning her face to Montmorency and the Bishop of Valencia and many others who were there, and saying in a loud, clear voice that could easily be heard: Have the Turks or Moors ever done such cruelties as they Spanish have to the subjects of my child?87 Alavá was not prepared to accept these insults, he reported to Philip, and retorted equally dramatically, ‘raising my voice somewhat, that she would hear how […] their punishment was very well deserved’.88 Alavá’s account contrasted what he saw as his controlled defence with Catherine’s emotional weakness and poorly- managed anger: ‘Her eyes were filled with tears of rage, and she trembed with agitation’.89 Indeed, Catherine was ‘like a rabid person, unable to speak’, only capable of asides to her ministers.90 Alavá considered that these affective responses had a strategic value for him, for ‘when she is taken by surprise, her embarrassment is great, and we learn more of their mind.’91 Similarly, Philip reported to Alavá on an audience the Duke of Alba had given to Fourquevaux in April in which he had 83 On gendered aspects of anger in the early modern period, see GWYNNE KENNEDY, Just Anger: Representing Women’s Anger in Early Modern England (Carbondale: Southern Illinois University Press, 2000); on anger in early modern letters by leading men, see SUSAN BROOMHALL and JACQUELINE VAN GENT, “Corresponding Affections: Emotional Exchange among Siblings in the Nassau Family”, Journal of Family History 34, 2 (2009): 143–65; Governing Masculinites in the Early Modern Period: Regulating Selves and Others, ed. by SUSAN BROOMHALL and JACQUELINE VAN GENT (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011). 84 TILMAN HAUG, “Negotiating with «Spirits of Brimstone and Saltpetre»: Seventeenth Century French Political Officials and Their Practices and Representations of Anger”, in Discourses of Anger in the Early Modern Period, ed. by KARL A.E. ENENKEL and ANITA TRANINGER (Leiden: Brill, 2015), 381– 402. 85 See also ambassadorial interpretations of Catherine’s tears, in Broomhall, ‘Catherine’s tears”. 86 Alavá to Philip. 19 January 1566, Negociaciones, 8, 202. 87 ‘Y como digo a Vuestra Majestad, en commensando a proponer, saltó esta Reina, sin dexarme hablar palabra, hecha una leona, diciendo a voz alta y volviendo el rostro a Momoransi y al Obispo de Valencia y otros muchos que estaban allí, con curiosidad clara para que lo entendiesen: Hase hecho entre turcos ni entre moros tan grand crueldad como han hecho españoles en los súbditos de mi hijo?’ Alavá to Philip. 16 March 1566, Ibid., 262. 88 ‘Respondí, alzando algo la voz, que oyese cómo […] el castigo de los que allí se hallaron fué muy bien merecido’. Ibid., 262. 89 ‘Veinte veces los ojos rasados en agua y temblándole el rostro como una azogada’, Ibid., 262. 90 ‘Como una rabiosa, no me dexando hablar’. Ibid., 263. 91 ‘Tomándola de improviso es grande su embarazo y sácase más de sus ánimos’. Ibid., 265. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 47 ‘come in great anger’92 and another he had given in which Fourquevaux demanded punishment of Menéndez, ‘much exaggerating the (so called) cruelty’.93 At a subsequent audience with Catherine, Alavá expressed surprise at the continued strength of her emotional reactions and distress about the incident: ‘we had a lengthy discussion on the matter — truly [in cipher: with her trembling]; it is strange that she has such fresh outrage about it all.’94 As Philip and Alavá constructed it in their correspondence to each other, these French emotional responses reflected their weakness and irrationality on this matter. This perspective, which explained for the Spanish why the French lacked the mettle to control the problem of Huguenots growing before their eyes, encouraged Philip to continue his rigid religious recommendations for the French kingdom. These interactions, filled with robust emotional rhetoric and affective performances readily interpreted by observers, continued to be oriented around conceptualisations of brotherhood and community. These discussions clearly exposed widely differing ideas of the sociable, cultural and belief alignments of varied protagonists and how resemblance (and alterity) could be conceptualised: familial or contractual, French or Spanish, Christian or Catholic. To Alavá directly, Catherine lamented, ‘what would Christendom say when it learned that in a season of such brotherly love so cruel a war had been waged?’95 Alavá responded, significantly shifting Catherine’s shared but exclusive realm of ‘Christendom’ to what Alavá termed instead ‘the world,’ arguing: that when the world, as she called it, should hear the facts it would not fail to be scandalised that in a season of such friendship and brotherly love, when they had received so many benefits from Your Majesty, they should send the greatest and most infamous heretics of France to usurp his territories, and the more so when it learned that from the least to the greatest they were all notable Huguenots.96 Charles and Catherine had made clear in repeated emphasis on reparations for the abuse of ‘their subjects’ that the French nation included Huguenots as well as Catholic. They refused to broach directly the matter of the settlement’s dominant religious persuasion. These messages charted fundamentally different communities from whom each agent perceived they held responsibilities of protection and from which they could expect support in what were shared concerns. 92 ‘Vino en gran cólera’. Philip to Alavá, 7 April 1566, Negociaciones, 8, 315. 93 ‘Exagerando mucho la crueldad (que así la llamó) que Pero Menéndez había hecho y pidiéndome le mandase castigar exemplarmente’. Ibid., 314. 94 ‘Y pasé un largo debate en la materia; verdaderamente/descrifado: e tomaban temblores/; es cosa extraña qué fresca tienen aquella indignación todos’. Alavá to Philip, 20 July 1566. Ibid., 438. 95 ‘Que qué diría la cristiandad que en tiempo, de tanta hermandad se haya hecho une tan cruda guerra’, Alavá to Philip. 16 March 1566, Ibid., 263. 96 ‘Que el mundo, como ella decía, cuando entendiese el caso no podría dexar de esdad, habiendo recibido tantas buenas obras de Vuestra Majestad, enviasen hombres los mayores herejes e infames de la Francia a usurparle sus tierras, y más cuando entendiesen que desde el mayor hasta el menor eran todos notables huguenotes y tanto’. Ibid., 263. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 48 Moreover, a further crucial set of emotional performances within the French diplomatic network voiced the strong frustrations, anger and grief of Charles, Catherine and Fourquevaux in a receptive and intimate community of understanding. Catherine expressed anger in her own correspondence to Fourquevaux, as she reported on successive, unsatisfactory interviews with the Spanish ambassador. In March 1566, she described hearing Alavá confess that Menéndez’s orders ‘had been carried out a little more rudely and cruelly than his lord had desired.’97 Catherine made clear to Fourquevaux her anger, ‘I was beside myself when I thought of it’.98 She demanded that, in his interview with Philip, Fourquevaux express the depth of her hurt and anger as mother to both Philip and Charles, and insist that he provide the French with justice as a demonstration worthy of the friendship and good peace between us … for I will never be at ease nor happy until I see it match the sincerity of our affections and actions towards him, it angers me too much that it has been abused and I will have great regret to have lost so much of the pain, care and the ways that I have sought to nurture these two princes and their crowns in perpetual friendship.99 This epistolary emotional feedback loop persisted through much of the year, long after Fourquevaux had warned his masters in February that they could expect no formal reparation from Spain, just ‘pretty words’.100 Elisabeth, the French-born Spanish queen, and sister of Charles IX, played a critical role in performing (and describing) affective displays before the French ambassador that assuaged her mother and brother and suggested a certain sympathy with their position. Fourquevaux eagerly reported Elisabeth’s claims to being very shocked and displeased to see your just sorrow: for she never thought that the carnage that occurred to your subjects should be done so bitterly; and, what is more, she told me that she had cried her heart out, for fear that some alteration in the relation between the two kings would come of it.101 Fourquevaux whose mission had been to impose French views upon his Spanish hosts, expressed his frustrations and excused his diplomatic failure, by providing confidential criticisms of the Spanish, tracing a racialised assessment of 97 ‘Bien confessoit-il que ce avait esté un peu plus rudement et cruellement que sondict masitre n’eust désiré’. Catherine to Fourquevaux, 17 March 1566, Lettres, 2, 354. 98 ‘J’estois comme hors de oy quand j’y pensois’. Ibid., 354. 99 ‘Par démonstration digne de l’amitié et de la bonne paix qui est entre nous […] car je ne seray jamais à mon aise ne bien contente jusques à ce que je la voye conforme à la syncerité de noz affections et actions en son endroit, dont il me fascheroit trop que l’on abusast et aurois un merveilleuz regret d’avoir perdu tant de peine, de soing et des moyens que j’ay cherchez pour nourrir ces deux princes et leurs couronnes en perpetuelle amitié’. Ibid., 355. 100 ‘Belles parolles’. Fourquevaux to Catherine, 9 April 1566, Dépêches, 1, 69. 101 ‘Bien esbahie et desplaizante qu’elle fut de veoir leans votre juste doleur: car ne pençoit elle point que le carnaige avenu sur voz subjectz deubt estre prins si aigrement; et m’estoit adviz qu’avec petite choze davantaige elle en eust pleuré son saoul, de crainte qu’elle a qu’il ne survienne quelque alteration entre les deux Roys’. Fourquevaux to Catherine, 9 April 1566. Ibid., 69. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 49 their bloodthirsty character: these Spanish have shown their prowess on disarmed men, half dead from hunger, who had surrendered and were seeking mercy. This inhumanity was never used by the Turks on the old soldiers that they took at Castelnuovo and at Gerbes; barbarians never used such cruelty. […] as a Frenchman and your subject, I am horrified when I think of a so detestable a fact and it seems to be that God would not want them left unpunished.102 Fanning the flames for revenge, Fourquevaux visualised a French moral community distinct from the Spanish, who, significantly, were ranked in their cruelty as beyond non-Christian peoples. In April 1566, Fourquevaux complained of a fruitless audience with Philip in which he had remonstrated that this was ‘a new indignity ever heard or to have happened between Christians […] for even the Turks and barbarians have never used the like, out of the heat of combat’.103 Later, Catherine would repeat Fourquevaux’s phrasing of the comparative barbarity of the Spanish and Turks in an audience with Alavá.104 This epistolary circulation of shared French feelings among a highly exclusive sympathetic community may have continued to circulate and re-ignite powerful sentiments of frustration and grief, but also provided an emotionally satisfying outlet to lived feelings that had no place in the official negotiations between kingdoms. In April 1568, the French Catholic slave-trader, and ostensibly free agent, Dominique de Gourgue, returned to the Spanish settlement of San Mateo (previously Fort Caroline). Recruiting the assistance of previous Timucua allies of the French, they massacred the fort’s inhabitants. Now, Alavá’s call for justice at the French court fell on deaf ears. To Alavá’s eyes, as he reported to Philip in late June 1568, Catherine could not control her obvious delight at this turn of events: she ‘said it with a gesture that showed her great joy about it […] I said that what I thought was that, the more brotherhood and friendship Your Majesty showed them and the more we helped them in their work, the less correspondence there was and would be with Your Majesty.’105 This moment represented an action that, for the French, could achieve brief emotional satisfaction, but it did not constitute a colonial re- 102 ‘Lesquelz Espaignolz ont monstré leur prouesse sur gens desarmez, mortz à demy de fain, renduz et requerantz qu’on le print à mercy. Laquelle inhumanité ne fut pas usée par les Turcs aux vieux soldats qu’ilz prindrent à Castelnuovo et aux Gerbes, ne jamais barbares uzèrent de telle crualté. […] comme François et votre subject, j’avois horreur quand je pensois à ung faict si execrable et me sembloit que Dieu ne le vouldroit pas laisser impuny’. Fourquevaux to Charles, 22 February 1566. Ibid., 61. 103 ‘C’estoit une nouvelle indigne d’estre entendue et moisn advenue entre chrestiens […] car les mesmes Turcz et barbares n’en uzèrent onc de semblable hors la chaleur du combat’. Fourquevaux to Catherine, 9 April 1566. Ibid., 70–1. 104 Alavá to Philip, 16 March 1566, Negociaciones, 8, 262. 105 ‘Lo dixo con un ademán que mostrò tener alegría grande dello,’ ‘Dixe que lo que yo consideraba era que cuanto más hermandad y amistad Vuestra Majestad les mostraba y cuanto más les ayudaba en sus trabajos, tanta menos correspondenica hallaba y hallaría Vuestra Majestad’. Alavá to Philip, 28 June 1568, Negociaciones con Francia, 10 (Madrid: Editorial Maestre, 1959), 487-488. SUSAN BROOMHALL Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 50 engagement with Florida. As on the Florida peninsula and in its European textual narratives, court colonial negotiations were explored through a wide range of emotional expressions, affective behaviours and a range of social practices of textual, material and bodily exchange. Through this staged emotional labour, individual French and Spanish agents ranged widely in articulating both inclusions and exclusions of the other from communities of shared faith or cultural similitude. Power dynamics between the kingdoms shaped emotional expression. The relative weakness of France’s position was reflected in the locations in which more challenging emotional content could be explored. Emotional performances articulated between monarchs were very different to those perceived by ambassadors in their audiences at their respective courts. Here verbal and corporeal displays spoke for feelings that could not be voiced as part of official communications between the two rulers. Finally, letters contained alternative emotional performances that voiced frustrations and explained failures in a limited circulation among sympathetic readers. Conclusions The conceptualisation of communities of sentiment, nationhood, men, race, and faith asserted myriad emotional performances expressing pride, self- righteousness, anger, concern among other feelings as acts of power. Indigenous and European agents employed gestural, textual, visual and violent practices of emotional labour to produce meanings and identities for the Florida peninsula and for each other. These performances aimed to contain or subjugate, as they were practised by and with Timucua, Calusa and European peoples, but also to establish cohorts of mutual interest. They were constructed through interpretation of affective behaviours, speech acts often in translation or expressed through third-party interpreters, rhetorical expression of emotion in written texts, and social practices of exchange of objects, resources and bodies. Analysis of emotions in such contexts helps to disrupt a narrative framework in which colonisers typically dominate indigenous ideas and activities. In this case study, all participants were engaged in negotiations through emotional performances that produced diverse interpretations and counter-narratives. Yet emotion practices operate within power frameworks that are culturally specific. When cultures crossed paths in such ways, the outcomes were not straightforward — emotional behaviours could reinforce power hierarchies but also act as disruptions to these. No simple dichotomy between coloniser and colonised captures the complex, challenging and shifting emotional practices that shaped identities and thus intimacies and sociabilities at personal, group and national levels here.106 Religious beliefs, cultural 106 This follows the considerations of ANN STOLER, Carnal Knowledge and Imperial Power: Race and the Intimate in Colonial Rule (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2002), 13. PERFORMANCES OF ENTANGLED EMOTIONS AND BELIEFS Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 51 differences and racial stereotypes were rarely stable as they were represented in emotional performances about Florida interactions. Community formations and belief practices were highly dynamic and responsive to new circumstances and engagements with indigenous and European peoples. In the eyes of other participants, Timucua, Calusa, French and Spanish peoples were all culturally transformed through entangled belief and emotional performances about Florida. 
work_qlep7l4yl5eahgyvq2layzwz5m	----	A Bacterial Cause of Cancer: An Historical Essay - Lichtman - 2017 - The Oncologist - Wiley Online Library Skip to Article Content Skip to Article Information 
work_qpwej7xlynhqdd5k2kxknk2mae	----	Think about the base as a fragment, as what remains of antiquity, when pagan idols are knocked down (see as Fortini Brown note 1 Wright, A; (2011) '... con uno inbasamento et ornamento alto': The rhetoric of the pedestal c. 1430- 1550. Art History, 34 (1) pp. 8-53. 10.1111/j.1467-8365.2010.00798.x. Downloaded from UCL Discovery: http://discovery.ucl.ac.uk/1399808/. ARTICLE ‘…con uno inbasamento et ornamento alto’: the rhetoric of the pedestal c. 1430-1550. Alison Wright School of Arts and Social Sciences, University College London When, in 1504, the Florentine painter Cosimo Rosselli gave his opinion on the best situation for Michelangelo’s colossal David, he suggested it be placed by the cathedral and raised up on a high pedestal (‘uno inbasamento et ornamento alto’).1 Rosselli imagined the marble statue dominating the corner of the entrance steps, just to the right of the façade. Sandro Botticelli lent his backing to Rosselli’s view with the argument that the sculpture would here be best visible to passers-by. Against both these painters, a goldsmith, Andrea Riccio - almost certainly a local Florentine and not the Paduan bronze sculptor - proposed a position in the courtyard of the town hall, the Palazzo della Signoria.2 Here, he claims, the sculpture would be better protected and passers-by would go to see it rather than, as he vividly puts it, ‘the figure should come and see us.’3 Differences of opinion expressed in this unusually well documented debate centred above all around questions of visibility, concern for the statue’s material preservation as well as the representational and ritual needs of the Florentine government.4 Tangentially, the debate also highlighted the crucial role of the pedestal and its physical and ritual situation in mediating the encounter with sculpture. In this context it might seem curious that Riccio should apparently worry that a high, freestanding figure placed in the open should claim too much autonomy.5 But his anthropomorphic argument might 1 Gaetano Milanesi ed., Le lettere di Michelangelo Buonarroti, pubblicate cui ricordi ed i contratti artistici, Florence, 1875, 621: ‘Et aveo pensato di metterlo dalle schalee della chiesa dalla mano ritta chon uno inbasamento in sul chanto di dette schalee, con uno inbasamento et ornamento alto, et quivi le metterei, secondo me.’ Rosselli also, though, favoured the idea of putting it next to the town hall. 2 For the probable identity of this Riccio see James D. Draper, ‘”Andrea vocato el Riccio Orafo”’, Burlington Magazine, 125, no. 966, Sept. 1983, 541-2. I should like to thank an anonymous reader of this article for drawing this to my attention. 3 Milanesi ed., Le Lettere, 621 (Sandro Botticelli) ‘Cosimo à detto apunto dove a me pare esser veduto da’viandanti’…(Andrea vocato el Riccio orafo) ‘…et quivi stare bene coperta et essere quivi più stimata et più riguardata […] et stare meglio al coperto et e’viandanti andare a vedere, et non tal cosa andare incontro a’viandanti et che noi e’viandanti l’andiàno a vedere, et non che la figura venghi a vedere noi.’. 4 The second government herald expressed the concern that David might block the Signoria’s access to their Loggia on ceremonial occasions. 5 Saul Levine, (‘The Location of Michelangelo’s David: The Meeting of January 25, 1504’, Art Bulletin, 56, 1974, 31-49 at 42) argued Riccio was concerned for the statue’s ‘apotropaic potency’, which would, in an exposed position, be potentially turned against the citizens rather than against the enemy. The first part of this interpretation is easier to support than the latter. http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1467-8365.2010.00798.x http://discovery.ucl.ac.uk/1399808/ 2 equally imply a concern with decorum of a kind more flattering to artists, namely, that a statue which a viewer comes to see is, like an actual person, granted greater respect - ‘più stimata et più riguardata’ as he puts it - than one that ‘comes to see’ the viewer. In either case Riccio grants a striking agency to the object of the kind that the anthropologist Alfred Gell has argued can indeed be attributed to works of ‘high art’ status that were not explicitly intended to have ritual functions.6 It is rare for such concern with the implications of the placement of a sculpture to be recorded, even in a republic in which sculpture procured with public money had to answer directly to the interests of the government and the citizenry. The present article, which aims to open up some of the artistic and conceptual implications of placing freestanding statues on substantial pedestals, has to draw on a variety of less direct sources, as well as on surviving visual evidence. Contemporary documents may refer to ceremonial or other codified actions in civic and private spaces that were ornamented by works on pedestals and indirectly inform our understanding of the formal, spatial and symbolic aspects of pedestals supporting statues at different moments in their public life. Analysing the semantic structure of a sculptural ensemble while acknowledging changing contingencies of site and sponsorship, illuminates the ways in which pedestals were conceived and indicate how they could be used to inform and attempt to stabilise the meaning of the figure they sustained. In some cases, such as the pedestals for small all’antica bronzes, or the base of the ancient ‘Idolino’ statue discussed below, the production of a ceremonial or even cultic framework for the sculpture is less a matter of immediate ‘context’ than an active construction of the imagery of the base. Here ritual significance is conferred or invoked through an imaginative and mythologizing appeal to knowledgeable viewers. Beyond the work itself, one of the most direct ways in which such an expanded imaginative framework may be accessed is in relation to the representation of bases in graphic, relief or painted forms or in contemporary enactments for special occasions. This aspect can only be touched on within this article but has been, and will be, extended elsewhere.7 Within such a wide field as sculpted bases, supports for freestanding statues are already a restricted category. As Weil-Garris Brandt has stressed, pedestals of the ‘classical type’ that presented a statua - the stand-alone, predominantly male, figure – were relatively rare in the Renaissance compared to the great array of dependent statues and reliefs intended to be read against skylines, on finials, within niches or otherwise subordinate to buildings.8 The present study focuses in still further on bases for works in bronze, both ancient and modern. Modern bronzes, especially when designed on a life-size scale, were exceptionally costly and difficult to make and, as prize commissions for Renaissance sculptors, were arguably the most prestigious sculptural form of the period. Bronzes, which were already the most admired ancient works in the Middle Ages, were re-valued in the fifteenth century in light of changing conceptions of the forms and uses of statues in the ancient world. Unsurprisingly, it 6 Alfred Gell, Art and Agency, An Anthropological Theory, Oxford, 1998, esp. 17-21 and, for examples, 52-53. 7 ‘Fictive’ pedestals, especially those represented in altarpieces, form part of my wider research project. A recent analysis illuminating the function of pedestals in a number of fresco cycles is Philine Helas and Gerhard Wolf, ‘The Shadow of the Wolf: the Survival of an Ancient God in the Fresco of the Strozzi Chapel (S. Maria Novella, Florence), or Filippino Lippi’s Reflection on Image, Idol and Art’, in Michael W. Cole and Rebecca Zorach eds., The Idol in the Age of Art: Objects, Devotions and the Early Modern World, Farnham and Burlington VT, 2009, 133-157. 8 Kathleen Weil-Garris Brandt, ‘The Relation of Sculpture and Architecture in the Renaissance’ in eds. Henry A. Millon and Vittorio Magnago Lampugnani, The Renaissance from Brunelleschi to Michelangelo. The Representation of Architecture, London and Milan, 1994, 75-98 at 77. 3 is above all in centres that promoted humanistic study that the most ambitious examples were produced or displayed. This is surely a major reason why plinths for bronzes, not least those of equestrian monuments, were, from the early Quattrocento onwards, the objects of special investment of time and money, and of artistic and literary invention. My initial observations relate broadly to pedestals of the period from the early Quattrocento to the mid Cinquecento in general; thereafter I address five principal case studies, chronologically ordered, that show how such issues may be applied specifically to bronze sculptures embedded in varying cultural contexts with their own more or less complex histories. While for reasons of economy I omit the category of the equestrian monument, I include one example of a liturgical work, the monumental Paschal candelabrum for the Santo in Padua. With this I wish to demonstrate how a work whose function was ostensibly quite distinct from the ‘Standbild’ was similarly informed by a rhetorical and civic framework that valued physical and intellectual elevation, elaboration and beauty, as a sign of honour. In this instance the eloquence of the pedestal was cultivated to present the paschal candle as a substitute for a sacred body, a productive slippage that alerts us to some of the wider implications of the plinth function in this period. Despite the aesthetic and historical importance of pedestals, art historical studies devoted to them remain rather rare.9 This is partly a result of such works’ vulnerability to removal and loss, or alienation from their original figural partners. But the problem runs deeper and relates, ultimately, to their subordinate function. Intended to draw attention to the work they support, they are destined both structurally and aesthetically to be overlooked. More recently, the photograph as an art historical tool has served pedestals, even more than picture frames, especially badly. The simplest way to bring a sculpted figure into an aesthetic (and legible) proximity to a reader is to crop the image and excise the base. The problem is further exacerbated in traditional monographic studies by issues concerning ‘originality’. Pedestals are easily sidelined through being defined as later additions and/or the work of a different sculptor. Such a distinction can produce an anachronistic and unhelpful division between sculpted figures and their historical supports as well as underplaying the implications of changing modes of display. Pedestals after all can usefully be considered as tributes to the works they sustain as well as a means of securing certain responses to them. This tribute may be directly in the hands of the sculptor of the statue, more often it is not, and thus the base constitutes a key ingredient in the reception history of the statue. In terms of the history of sculpture, the tracking of the typology of Renaissance bases and their development remains a pressing task, one recently broached within a broader historical 9 For the Renaissance see Wilhelm von Bode, ‘Die Ausbildung des Sockels bei den Büsten der italienischen Renaissance’, Amtliche Berichte aus dem preussischen Kunstsammlungen, 40, 1918-9, 110-120; ibid. ‘Rahmen und Sockel zur Zeit der Renaissance’, Kunst und Künstler, 17, 1918-9, at 385-381; Herbert Keutner, ‘Über die Entstehung und die Formen des Standbildes im Cinquecento’ Münchner Jahrbuch der bildenden Kunst, ser. 3, 1956, 136-68; Inga Gesche, Neuaufstellungen antiker Statuen und ihr Einfluβ auf die römische Renaissance-Architektur, (Ph.D. diss. Frankfurt 1968), Mannheim, 1971; Kathleen Weil-Garris Brandt, ‘On Pedestals: Michelangelo’s David, Bandinelli’s Hercules and Cacus and the Sculpture of the Piazza della Signoria’, Römisches Jahrbuch fürKunstgeschichte, 20, 1983, 378-415. More recently see Alexandra Gerstein, ed, Display and Displacement: Sculpture and the Pedestal from Renaissance to Post-Modern, London, 2007, beginning from a slightly later period than that principally addressed here and the essays by Nicholas Penny (‘The Evolution of the Plinth, Pedestal and Socle’) and Ian Wardropper, (‘”Pied Destal ou Soubsbassement”: Displaying Sculpture in Renaissance France’) in Nicholas Penny and Eicke.D. Schmidt, eds., Collecting Sculpture in Early Modern Europe, Studies in the History of Art, 47, (National Gallery of Art, Washington D.C.), New Haven and London, 2008, 461-81 and 145-157 respectively. 4 overview by Nicholas Penny.10 Some art historians have examined the relation of the pedestal to the sustained figure, or to other site-specific factors in discussing particular works of the Renaissance. The productiveness and significance of such research is best illustrated by Francesco Caglioti’s meticulous and illuminating reconstructions of the magnificent bases of Donatello’s David and Judith together with their lost inscriptions (figs. 18 and 21).11 Beyond the monographic, an approach that similarly takes into account artistic practice, but is not restricted to it, permits the relationship of sculpted bases to exigencies of site, as well as political and cultural investment, to emerge with greater clarity. One of the chief studies to do this is Kathleen Weil-Garris Brandt’s ‘On Pedestals’ devoted to the innovative sixteenth-century installation of statues in the Piazza della Signoria in Florence, the greatest public forum for the display of modern freestanding sculpture in Renaissance Italy.12 The current study, while much indebted to these researches, is directed rather towards a broader understanding of the act of placing statues on plinths in early modern Italy, and in Florence especially. The inspiration for this research is ultimately drawn not from art history but from the work of a social historian, Richard Trexler, whose Public Life in Renaissance Florence used the tools of anthropology to describe and interpret the actions of Quattrocento citizens.13 Emphasising Florentines’ changing ceremonial and ritual gestures and the central importance ascribed to sustaining personal and collective honour, Trexler was able to expose the performatory and ritualised aspects of the city’s major sites in a way that transformed the understanding of their social and political significance. Seen within this ritual framework, pedestals - whatever else they may do – quintessentially express the desire to do honour, and ‘produce’ honour, within public, sacred and, less frequently, private space. Controversially, Trexler saw this desire as born from anxiety as to the city’s legitimacy rather than from any self-confidence – a self-confidence that such structures frequently sought to project. For scholars concerned with the visual self-presentation of the city, such as Volker Breidecker and Marvin Trachtenberg, Florence has also lent itself to sustained analysis because of the ideologically driven eloquence of its urban fabric, and particularly its public monuments, over centuries of political upheaval.14 Similarly, my own study emphasises the rhetorical work of the pedestal, addressing how these supporting structures could articulate the interests of the different individuals and social groups who commissioned them, designed them and subsequently moved them about. The range of attitudes of those who looked at them, sometimes against the grain, is self-evidently more difficult to access in a milieu where public discourse, controlled by the cultural and political elite, was overwhelmingly encomiastic. Terminology Sources directly describing supports for sculpture and similar furnishings for works of art can tell us something about how their function was understood, even if they say relatively little 10 Penny, ‘Evolution’. 11 Francesco Caglioti, Donatello e i Medici. Storia del David della Giuditta, Florence 2000, 2 vol., throughout but esp. 2-11, 81-100, 101-152. 12 Weil-Garris Brandt, ‘On Pedestals’ As an example in a quite different genre, see the study of a ‘triumphant’ reliquary base for a Cross, interpreted in a Carolingian theological and political context by Hans Belting ‘Das Einhardsbogen’, Zeitschrift für Kunstgeschichte, 36, 1973, 93-121. 13 Richard Trexler, Public Life in Renaissance Florence, Ithaca, N.Y. and London, 1991. 14 Volker Breidecker, Florenz oder 'Die Rede, die zum Auge spricht’: Kunst, Fest und Macht im Ambiente der Stadt, Munich, 1990; Marvin Trachtenberg, Dominion of the Eye: Urbanism, Art and Power in Early Modern Florence, Cambridge, 1997. 5 about their forms. It is significant indeed that, for Quattrocento and Cinquecento viewers, a generic term existed that could encompass all such features as pedestals and frames in works of painting and sculpture: that word, used in the discussion over the installation of the David, was ‘ornamento’. Tellingly ‘ornamento’ (‘ornato’, ‘fornamento’) drew together physically dissimilar types of furnishing that are separated in modern terminology, though distinctions of specific function were evidently recognised.15 The term ornamento, as it appears frequently in contracts with artists and other contemporary documents, refers to the auxiliary and beautifying function of the pedestal or frame; it did not, however, share the modern implication of the merely decorative.16 Ornamental furnishings, whether fixed or temporary, were taken as readily legible signs of worth and honour and therefore of considerable significance.17 An ornamento was not superficial, still less extraneous, to that which it ornamented, but intrinsic and even characterising. The theoretical position of ornament and framing in this light has increasingly become the subject of latterday critical analysis. Originating in Kant’s later, problematically absolute, distinction of ornament as parergon (‘outside the work’) in the 1790 Critique of Judgement - and thus as extrinsic to complete representation – the ‘supplementary’ status of ornament has been variously revised.18 In relation to later Renaissance art, Rebecca Zorach has emphasised both the abundant application of and restriction on, ornament to define place within social hierarchy and as sign of control, even domination.19 While the issues for earlier Renaissance art are not identical, the link between ornament and what one might term an aesthetic of the triumphal already emerges by the 1450s. Furthermore, historical sources indicate the key value for patrons of ornamenti. Contracts for altarpieces, for example, show that the carved frame or framing elements (usually referred to as the ornamento or ornamenti), were subject to detailed requirements and often accounted for a large proportion of the total price of the work. Acknowledged here is the conception of the altarpiece as a complete physical entity whose mode of presentation, its framing, was as significant for its reception as the choice and placement of figures. Equally the attributes of saints to be represented within the work – that which made them recognisable as individuals - might sometimes be called their ornamenti.20 By analogy, the pedestal is what served, and serves, to define the freestanding 15 For ‘fornamento’ used by Giovanni Bellini for describing a frame for one of his paintings see Jennifer Fletcher, ‘I Bellini’ in R. Casanelli, ed. La Bottega dell’artista tra Medioevo e Rinascimento, Milan, 1998, esp. 139-41. 16 See for distinctions in its use and for examples, Michelle O’Malley, The Business of Art: Contracts and the Commissioning Process in Renaissance Italy, New Haven and London, 2005, 28-31. 17 The 1471 report of the Florentine ambassador on the quality of his room at the Ferrarese court is typical: ‘si ornata e parata che ame pare non si possa fare piu a uno gran Signore’ (Biblioteca Riccardiana, Moreni 242 f. 2-3). 18 Immanuel Kant, Critique of Judgement, Berlin and Libau, 1790, transl. and ed. Oxford, 1952, f. 68, 14-18. For the frame as external to the work and constitutive of it as a representation see Jacques Derrida, La Vérité en Peinture, Paris, 1978, 62- 78 esp. 67-73, (The Truth in Painting, transl. Geoff Bennington and Ian McLeod, Chicago, 1987, 53-67, esp. 59-61) 19 Rebecca. Zorach, Blood, Milk, Ink, Gold:Abundance and Excess in the French Renaissance, Chicago and London, 2005, esp. 151-156 drawing on Kant and Derrida as well as on Oleg Grabar’s positing of ornament as an intermediary (The Mediation of Ornament, Princeton N.J., 1992, esp. 42- 46) and on Angus Fletcher’s elaboration of ornament as a ‘universal order’ (Allegory: The Theory of a Symbolic Mode, Ithaca, 1964). 20 O’Malley, Business, 30. 6 statue as such. Seen in these terms a pedestal does not just support or furnish a sculpture in situ, it lends the work its proper place of signification in the cultural field.21 There are a number of inflections to the range of Italian words used to describe the pedestal, defined broadly as an architectonic support for a figure or object, and there is some commonality, if no absolute consistency, in their usage. The word ‘piedistallo’, from ‘piede’ (foot, from the Latin ‘pede’) and ‘stallo’ (a stall or place, from the German), was intermittently applied to bases for sculpture but was in common use for a stand-alone furnishing that acted as a support, hence we find a ‘piedistallo di lib. 80’ in the main audience room of the Medici palace in Pisa in 1492, valued substantially at 15 florins.22 The ‘pedestal’ type was also used to characterise a form of luxury plate, namely a basin or bowl with an elevated stand (eg. ‘uno bacino da piedistallo, d’ottone’).23 The more common description for any type of support, regardless of size, was simply ‘foot’: ‘piede’ or ‘piè’, (‘pede’ in latin inventories).24 Reliquary bases and the stands made for ancient cups, vases and other precious vessels, are often described in this way. Both represent important sub-genres of the pedestal in the Renaissance and in their different ways represent invitations to honour, and signal ownership of, precious, magical or sacred objects. ‘Piedistallo’ as it was most often used, as an architectural term, was, and still is, applied to the raised support which sustains a column.25 The Greek word ‘plinth’ was also employed in architectural treatises for a low, square support beneath a column base, but the word could serve on occasion to describe a base for a statue.26 By the sixteenth century, the more generic ‘base’: ‘basamento’ or ‘imbasamento’ deriving, again, from architectural terminology for the lowest part of a building or column support, was the term most frequently applied to the pedestal for a statue.27 Other terms could be employed to characterise supports for objects of distinctive scale or function. Thus the eight metre high base for Donatello’s bronze equestrian monument to Gattamelata in Padua was referred to in contemporary records of the project as a ‘pilastro’ or pier, a word that acknowledged its architectural substance and distinctive elongated cross- 21 For the cultural field see Pierre Bourdieu, The Field of Cultural Production: Essays on Art and Literature, Oxford, 1993, esp. 131-2 (from ‘Le marché des biens symboliques’, first published 1971). 22 Marco Spallanzani and Giovanna Gaeta Bertelà, Libro d’inventario dei beni di Lorenzo il Magnifico, Florence, 1992, 224 (f. 108). 23 Spallanzani and Bertelà, Libro d’inventario, 182 (f. 88). 24 See for example the records of goldsmiths’ workshops in Gabriella Cantini Guidotti, Orafi in Toscana tra XV e XVIII Secolo. Storie di uomini, di cose e di parole, I, Florence, 1994, 264-5. 25 Daniele Barbaro’s edition of Vitruvius’ De architectura: I dieci libri dell’architettura, Venice, 1567, 134, refers to the ‘little walls’ (‘muretti’ ) beneath columns thus: ‘altro non sono che i piedistali, che si doveriano dire piedistili, cioè piedi delle colonne, che sarebbe parola composta del Greco [stili] e del volgare [piedi]; ma parliamo secondo uso’. 26 Francesco di Giorgio Martini, Trattati di Architettura, Ingegneria e Arte Militare, ed. C.Maltese, I, III, 384: ‘…senza il printo [plinto] overo quadro locato sotto la basa’, p. 385: ‘della basa o vero printo’. Francesco di Giorgio describes these plinths as cube-shaped and called ‘steriobata’ or stilobates in antiquity. For another ‘ancient’ term for the plinth see Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, Venice, 1499, ed. Marco Ariani and Mino Gabriele, I, Milan, 1998, p. 33: ‘El Paegma, overo basamento meraveglioso era di solido marmoro…’ 27 As in Vasari (Le Vite dei più eccellenti pittori, scultori ed architettori, ed Gaetano Milanesi, vol. 2, Florence, 1906, 406), à propos of Donatello’s Judith and Holofernes: ‘…Similmente il basamento che è un balaustro di granito...’ 7 section.28 From an early moment, and right into the sixteenth century, Donatello’s David and Judith monuments were referred to as ‘columns’, a term responding to the form of their pedestals.29 At the other end of the spectrum the silver base for a reliquary head of Sant’Attaviano made by Antonio del Pollaiuolo is described in a list of spoils from the cathedral sacristy at Volterra as a ‘ceppo’ meaning a block or stand.30 The word might have enjoyed a further resonance as the support for a head since ‘ceppo’ was also the term used for the executioner’s block.31 The point remains that such occasional nomenclature often depended on the available vocabulary of the writer, rather than representing an established terminology.32 The rhetorical address of the Renaissance pedestal In the case of the pedestal, one of the main attractions for focussing on the early to high Renaissance is the relatively brief but significant triumph of ornamental, and occasionally extremely high and prominent bases, as furnishings for the revived type of freestanding sculpture pioneered in Florence. Representations of pedestals, some more imaginative than probable, also feature significantly in paintings, manuscript illustration and prints of this period, in ways that reveal the ubiquity of ornamental richness as a cultural signifier. It is noticeable that, in designing a wide range of objects whether candelabra, ‘feet’ for reliquaries, fountains, holy water stoups and other forms of functional vessel, craftsmen of this period, with the encouragement of patrons, often built taller and broader. Memorable examples are the silver and gilded reliquaries of the most powerful churches of Florence, Bologna and Padua.33 More interestingly, these designers also gave a new, or renewed, monumentality and iconographic richness to their works. Hence the aforementioned Paschal candlestick produced by Andrea Riccio for the Franciscan pilgrimage church of the Santo, Padua (fig. 11), has earned a place in more prestigious histories of bronze sculpture rather than that of liturgical metalwork. A new elaboration of ornament, unsurprising in itself in societies increasingly dominated by aristocratic ideals, was accompanied by a greater articulacy. Choices of form and decoration were never incidental even if their message could, in some cases, amount to little more than a general association of the object, its maker and its owner with the perceived achievements of ancient civilisation. It would be difficult to construct a history of the ‘freestanding’ pedestal 28 Andrea Gloria, Donatello fiorentino e le sue opere mirabili nel tempio di S. Antonio di Padova, Padua, 1895, 8; also referred to by Antonio Sartori, ‘Documenti riguardanti Donatello e il suo altare di Padova’, Il Santo, I, fasc. 1, January-April 1961, 21-83 at 32 and 35. 29 Horst W. Janson, The Sculpture of Donatello, Princeton 1957, vol. 2, 157 and Caglioti, (Donatello, 1, 89) also mention that it was referred to in 1453 as a ‘columpna’. The term was also used on one occasion to describe the base of the Gattamelata. 30 Maurizio Cavallini, Luigi Pescetti and Giuseppe Pilastri, ‘Volterra e Francesco Ferrucci’, Biblioteca della ‘Rassegna Volterrana’ II, Volterra e Francesca Ferrucci, Volterra, 1930, 106. 31 Vocabolario degli Accademici della Crusca, 2, 760, no. IV and for a ‘ceppo’ as the stand for a cross see no. XI. 32 Instead of ‘basamento’ the late sixteenth-century compiler of a description of Rome (Codex Barberini XXX, 89) uses ‘posamento’ (R. Lanciani, ‘Il Codice barberiniano XXX, 89, contenente frammenti di una descrizione di Roma del secolo XVI, pt.2’, Archivio della Società romana di storia patria, 6, 1883, 445-496 eg. at 446, 447). 33 See for example Joseph Braun, Die Reliquiare des christlichen Kultes und ihre Entwicklung, Freiburg im Breisgau, 1940, figs. 348 and 357 (Florence), fig. 358 (Bologna), figs. 376, 378-81, 569 (Padua). 8 in this period, not least because pedestals did not answer directly to one another in time, as statues clearly did; pedestals answer, first and foremost, to the object they sustain. What one finds in this untidy category is rather a heterogeneous series of cross-fertilisations, often taking place between objects of different function – from statue base to fountain and water stoup, from candelabrum to column, with sculptors responding, in a spirit of emulation or assimilation, to the inventions of their peers ancient and modern. The appearance of ‘triumphal’ and ornamental bases coincides with a shift in the nature of élite culture and the exercise and representation of power. It is to this shift that the Florentine sculptor-architect Antonio Averlino, called Filarete, spoke when, in the early 1460s, he devised his architectural treatise as a fictional dialogue with his Sforza patron, the princely ruler of Milan.34 The treatise proposes the planning, ornamentation and festive life of an ideal city that is designed, both discursively and artistically, to imply the knowledge, magnificence and superiority of its ruler. In its tirelessly elaborated public buildings, monuments and squares we find a consistent fascination with ingenious ornaments, abundance and height, almost without regard for antique ‘correctness’, proportion or even civic decorum. Filarete was concerned above all with architectural and sculptural features - such as columnar fountains decorating urban courtyards and piazzas - that would impress by their exalted proportions and be understood as outpourings of educated princely munificence.35 A similarly telling but more specific historical instance of the prevailing taste is granted by an episode retold by the humanist Antonio Bonfini. Praising the progress through Italy of Beatrice of Aragon to her consort King Matthias Corvinus in Hungary, Bonfini makes a point of describing in detail the preciousness and costly scale of the goldsmith ware that Beatrice laid out to impress her hosts en route.36 At the magnificent court of Urbino, this overtly competitive ritual involved the display of an inventive salt cellar-cum-jewel box crowned with a flowering tree and of a massive gold pitcher in the shape of a dragon with a mother of pearl body that ‘stood upon a very lofty tripod base’.37 Bonfini framed his account on the one side by noting the ‘wonder’ shown even by such a connoisseur as the Duke of Urbino and, on the other, by Beatrice’s subsequent (implicitly Neapolitan) reform of the dining arrangements and life-style of the Hungarian court. The reform produced what was a nuanced, hierarchical - and widely resented - distancing of the ruler from his courtiers. Thus the loftiness of the highly crafted, costly piece of tableware becomes symbolic of the imposition of a whole new protocol, if not exactly a new social order. The operative decorum here was not directly transferable to a republican context, yet oligarchic and territorial Florence, a republic until 1512, was increasingly subject to the control of a single family. The Quattrocento Medici belonged to a competitive, mercantile patrician class in which they stood out both for their wealth, and for the degree to which they progressively identified themselves with, and translated to their own interests, symbols and forms of behaviour borrowed from aristocratic regimes and from imperial Rome. 34 Antonio Averlino detto il Filarete, Trattato di Architettura, eds. Anna Maria Finoli and Liliana Grassi, Milan, 1972, 2 vols, with a discussion of the dating at p. XIII. 35 Filarete, Trattato, Book VIII (1, 235) for the fountain at the centre of the main piazza of Sforzinda (60 v., ed. cit, 2, tav. 36) and Book IX (1, 262-3) for the fountain in the courtyard of a royal palace. 36 Antonio Bonfini, Rerum Ungaricum decades, in Rózsa Feuer-Tóth, Art and Humanism in Hungary in the Age of Matthias Corvinus, ed. G. Jakobi, Budapest, 1990, 125-9. The relevant passage from Bonfini’s Ten Books on Hungarian Matters is translated in Peter Elmer, Nick Webb and Roberta Wood eds., The Renaissance in Europe: An Anthology, New Haven and London, 2000, 206-7. 37 ‘supra editissimam basim tripedalis’ (not ‘three feet in height’ as in Elmer, Webb and Wood, Renaissance). 9 Significantly, with their commission of works to Donatello, Cosimo de’ Medici and his son Piero introduced the first high, columnar, freestanding bronze sculptures into the space of their palazzo in a way that demonstrated their residence’s semi-public status. In the same early period of ascendancy, which ended with the Pazzi Conspiracy in 1478, the streets of Florence were the stage for highly inventive allegorical triumphs (‘trionfi’) and other vertiginous ‘edifizi’. These floats, which were paraded for civic feasts enriched and transformed the ritual self-presentation of the city, as did extravagantly high ‘ceri’ or wax offerings dedicated by Florence’s subject towns and other institutions.38 In the surviving Italian republics, including what Philippe de Commynes referred to as ‘the most triumphal’ Venice, princely and imperial models that lent nobility and legitimacy to the state and its leading families were freely adopted. Indeed it is clear that in the majority of centres, regardless of their political structure, long traditions of family rivalry and the tensions produced by social mobility were major factors in sustaining an inflationary demand for elaborate signs of public honour. Not the least of these signs was the vertical elaboration afforded by the pedestal, a form that appears centre-stage in images of triumphs (fig. 1) and occasionally even in religious art and narrative scenes of the period. Rivalry at an institutional level was another major motivating force.39 The transforming power of the pedestal Evidently the significance of the pedestal derives in great measure from its dependence on the worth of the figures, images and objects it sustained. But the relationship between support and supported is always a dialectical one in which power or legitimacy does not flow in just one direction. Renaissance pedestals were designed to have a constructive or constitutive role, elevating the image both literally and metaphorically. For it was always hoped that an honoured image or relic – in other words one given recognition by its magnificent display -- would remain or even become efficacious. Such was clearly the case for the carved fragment of the True Cross owned by the Florentine Baptistery: its great silver cross reliquary was ordered in 1457 on the basis that the relic was ‘not ornamented as it should be and in its present state is not obvious to many and no-one knows that it is wood of the Cross.’40 The presentational function of the pedestal has a strong temporal and performative aspect to it, not least because, like a throne or a cloth of honour, the pedestal physically produces the effect of a moment held and preserved for contemplation against time. Indeed frames and pedestals, though they may include narrative scenes, are intrinsically anti-narrative features that both contain and immobilise. In this respect, they function in a similar way to furnishings used in the elaborately staged religious and diplomatic rituals of the period. They transform protagonists - even when shown at a culminating moment of action - into exempla, actors into icons and allow new meanings to be articulated or brought forth in ways that narrative might otherwise impede or obviate. A number of painters and sculptors of the Renaissance deliberately play either with or against this stabilising aspect of the base: Andrea Mantegna did so, for example, by arresting iconic figures as though they were statues (the St. Sebastian in Vienna, and especially that in the Louvre, (fig. 2) are prime examples). His contemporary Donatello generally worked in the opposite direction by allowing his figures 38 See for these especially, Vasari’s Life of il Cecca, Le vite, ed. Milanesi, III, 203. For a sketch of c. 1500 including the stacked forms of ‘edifizi’ in the Piazza della Signoria see John Shearman, ‘Art or Politics in the Piazza?’ in Alessandro Nova and Anna Schreurs eds, Benvenuto Cellini: Kunst und Kunsttheorie im 16. Jahrhundert, Cologne, Weimar and Vienna, 2003, 19-36, Abb. 2. 39 As I have argued elsewhere in relation to the silver cross for the Florentine Baptistery (The Pollaiuolo Brothers: The Arts of Florence and Rome , New Haven and London, 2005, 35-46). 40 Archivio di Stato di Firenze, Carte Strozziane, ser. II, 51, f.216 recto (f. 224 new style), ‘non è ornato come si richiede e stando in quella maniera non è manifesto a molti e nessuno sa che sia legno della Crocie…’ 10 either to transgress or seemingly ignore its boundaries, as for example, in the lost Dovizia, where the nymph–like personification was captured in mid stride, as though at any moment she might walk off her column.41 At the very beginning of the Quattrocento, Filippo Brunelleschi had demonstrated the potential liturgical resonance of the pedestal at the very centre of his bronze competition relief for the first set of Baptistery doors (fig. 3). Here an altar (shown as a kind of furnace) supports the naked boy Isaac who is held, statue-like, on the brink of sacrifice. The altar-as- pedestal is further elaborated with a relief scene within the relief featuring rare, and potentially mystifying, iconography (fig. 4). It seems to show an Annunciation by Abraham to his seated wife Sarah with the ‘redeemed’ son rising half-length at the centre, as from the waters of Baptism.42 The tiny and terrible drama of the boy Isaac in Brunelleschi’s relief stands at the beginning of a much more prominent history of Florentine sculptures in which ‘redemptive’ acts of violent death are performed on pedestals, pedestals which could thus also support connotations of an altar: Donatello’s Judith slaying Holofernes, Baccio Bandinelli’s Hercules and Cacus, Benvenuto Cellini’s Perseus brandishing the Gorgon’s head.43 As Weil-Garris has pointed out, Leon Battista Alberti claimed in his treatise on architecture that in antiquity statues were set up on six-foot high altars and he frequently employed the term ‘ara’ or ‘arula’ (little altar) as an appropriate word to refer to a dado or pedestal either beneath a column or a statue.44 It is interesting in this light that Cesare Cesariano’s illustrated Vitruvius edition of 1521 employs a richly ornamented Roman funerary altar as the pedestal for a Doric column.45 In practice, objects such as pedestals not only inflected what they supported but were themselves transformed over time. This might be intentional if, for example, they formed part of the paraphernalia of honour that surrounded actual figureheads, like the rostra supplied for ambassadorial visits, or when pedestals formed part of tableau for major feast days. But even when supporting permanent sculpture, the movements, removals or adaptations of pedestals are as telling of societal shifts as any ‘original’ function, especially when that function had been to stabilise or fix a place and a meaning (perhaps simply as work of art). It 41 David Wilkins, ‘Donatello’s Lost Dovizia for the Mercato Vecchio: Wealth and Charity as Florentine Civic Virtues’, Art Bulletin, 65, 1983, 401-423, at 407-8 for the visual evidence for the statue’s pose. 42 This reading differs somewhat from Creighton Gilbert’s (‘The Smallest Problem in Florentine Iconography’, in eds. Sergio Bertelli and Gloria Ramakus, Essays presented to Myron P. Gilmore, I, Florence, 1978, 193-218), which draws on the stage directions of a later sacred play by Feo Belcari. Gilbert was surely correct, though, in his identification of the protagonists and of a subsequent moment in the story. 43 See Weil-Garris Brandt, ‘On Pedestals’, 400-402 for the Hercules and Cacus as perhaps evoking the altar of Hercules Invictus at Rome, the site at which the Cacus myth culminates, and 409-10 for the Cellini base as altar-like. Both Weil-Garris and Cole (Cellini and the Principles of Sculpture, Cambridge, 2002, 68-9) have shown the significance of this association for the Perseus as work of art and as political sign. 44 Weil-Garris Brandt, ‘On Pedestals’, 402 and note 127. See Leon Battista Alberti, L’Architettura [De Re Aedificatoria], eds. Giovanni Orlandi and Paolo Portoghesi, Milan,1966, 2, 627 for temple altars and 617 for the decoration of pediments with statues (Book VII, Chap. 11, f. 127r): ‘…imponentur arulae statuarum collocandarum gratia’. See also for supports for columns: Book VIII, Chap. 3, f. 141r, Chap. 6, f. 146, f. 147, f. 147v and Book IX, Chap. 4, f.163v, and for statues: Book VIII, Chap. 6, f. 147v. 45 Yves Pauwels, ‘Cesariano et Philibert de L’Orme:’le piédestal dorique’ du Premier tome de l’Architecture’, Revue de l’art, 91, 1991, 39-43. The pedestal is adapted from a funerary altar owned by Giovanni Ciampolini in early sixteenth-century Rome and now in the Uffizi. 11 is clear that, in the case of sculpted pedestals, such changes are symptomatic of attempts to manipulate or reorientate the meaning of the potent symbols they sustained. Pedestals might be deliberately removed when a statue was transferred and put to a new purpose. Donatello’s bronze David, for example, became definitively detached from its base - and from any public significance - when it was eventually transferred to the Medici Granducal residence at Palazzo Pitti and installed as an overmantel feature.46 The despoiled pedestal as a relic signifying the overthrow of an overweening regime is a familiar and potent image, and already used by Renaissance painters.47 But temporary changes could also be significant. We know, for example, that the same David, together with its base, was co-opted into an ephemeral staging (apparato) while still installed in the courtyard of the Medici palace on the via Larga. At the marriage celebrations of Lorenzo de’ Medici, recounted by Marco Parenti to Filippo Strozzi in 1469, the pedestal was the very centrepiece of the arrangement: ‘there was no sideboard [credenziera] for the silverware, only tall counters covered with tablecloths in the middle of the courtyard around that beautiful column on which is the bronze David, and in the four corners, four brass basins for cups, and behind these [central] counters stood people administering wine and water.’48 Here the column and its statue constituted the high, fixed, axis of a symmetrical display designed to produce a decorative unity in the ritualised space of the courtyard. At the same time the structure became rhetorically associated with Medici magnanimity as a fount around which the activities of the guests revolved. The pedestal defined a place of circulation and beneficence. When, in 1495, the Florentine government wanted to re-direct the meaning of Donatello’s Judith sculpture, which had been removed from the Medici garden beyond that courtyard, they not only re-sited it but permanently changed the inscription on its base.49 So potent could statuary be as a site of political and cultural debate that by the first years of the sixteenth century we even encounter the extraordinary phenomenon of the Pasquino, the fragmentary Roman sculpture on a simple base that was dressed up for the feast day of St. Mark, adopting each time a new mythological identity and a new voice.50 Here the verse ‘pasquinades’, which were periodically attached around the group and its pedestal, made the statue the protean mouthpiece of the most varied and ‘occasional’ wit, satire and dissent, working strongly against the notion of triumphal permanence and commemoration.51 46 Anna Maria Massinelli ed., Bronzetti e anticaglie dalla Guardaroba di Cosimo I, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence, 1991, 26; Caglioti, Donatello, I, 356 and II, 409. 47 In Exodus 23 v. 24 the Israelites are forbidden to bow down to the gods of other peoples and instructed to ‘utterly overthrow them, and quite break down their images.’ Vittore Carpaccio drew effectively on the imagery of overthrow when, in his Scuola canvas in the Louvre of c. 1514, he shows St. Stephen at Jerusalem preaching from an antique pedestal that is surrounded by fragments of broken marble, that point to its previous function. 48 Biblioteca Nazionale Centrale di Firenze (BNCF) II, IV, 324, f. 108r-v, published in Delle nozze di Lorenzo de’ Medici con Clarice Orsini nel 1469; informazione di Piero Parenti Fiorentino, Florence, 1870. 49 The base of the Judith now reads 'Exemplum sal[utis] pub[licae] cives pos[uerunt] MCCCCXCV’. 50 For a multi-faceted reading of the Pasquino’s significance see Leonard Barkan, Unearthing the Past: Archaeology and Aesthetics in the Making of Renaissance Culture, New Haven and London, 2002, 210-231. 51 The engraving of the Pasquino of 1546 (see Christian Hülsen, ‘Das Speculum Romanae Magnificentiae des Antonio Lafréri’ in Collectanea variae doctrinae Leoni S. Olschki, Munich, 1921, 157n71a) shows a single, long inscription on the pedestal, but a pasquinade of 1516 (Barkan, Unearthing, 230) certainly suggests that the base (though ‘al basso’ has a double sense) was also decked with temporary inscriptions. For the development of the pasquinades and the various attempts 12 Although in the early period the sculpted base was rarely used as a site for the explicit inscription of artistic agency – the patron’s concerns took precedence - specific sculptors and painters were highly influential in developing the communicative power of the base and in posing new questions to divert or alert an attentive viewer. The pedestal was intrinsically inviting as a site of artistic fantasia and invention for the very reason that its design was unlikely to be subject to detailed requirements from patronal bodies. Though the sculptor might be bound by the need to accommodate inscriptions, emblems or stories required by the terms of commission, a certain freedom in devising the embellishment of the base can be presumed and, with it, the possibility for a claim to artistic licence. Medici column monuments With regard to the taste for ornate bases all’antica, as in so many other respects, works by Donatello emerge repeatedly as formative. In particular Donatello’s renowned bronze sculptures for the Medici palace and garden provide exemplary material for addressing the potential of Renaissance pedestals as mediators and interpreters.52 Already in the sixteenth century it is largely à propos of Donatello’s work and, to a lesser extent, of other Medici sculpture, that Giorgio Vasari devotes any attention at all to the character of sculpted bases in the Vite. It is significant that not only were these works conceived of as freestanding statues, and therefore possessing great ethical as well as aesthetic force, but cast in bronze.53 It is above all ancient bronzes and their modern relatives that merited the most elevated and distinguished pedestals. Freestanding figures with supports that advertised their physical, if not visual, independence from architecture, and so elevated as to appear columnar were a novelty in the fifteenth century and, as such, the implications of this development merit special consideration in terms of the rhetoric of the pedestal. A detailed consideration of the appearance and placement of the lost pedestal of the David (fig. 5, Museo Nazionale del Bargello, Florence), ascribed by Vasari to Desiderio da Settignano is a task both too complex and reiterative to be tackled in this article. Significantly, sources recording inscriptions on the pedestal of this sculpture while in the Medici palace courtyard and of the later Judith bronze in the Medici garden, analysed below, refer to them as ‘columns’ and therefore implicitly as objects with a monumental, even ceremonial, connotation. As Caglioti has elaborated, it was as column monuments that these statues, and not just their pedestals, were explicitly characterised in the Quattrocento.54 to identify the sculpture in the sixteenth century see Francis Haskell and Nicholas Penny, Taste and the Antique: The Lure of Classical Sculpture 1500-1900, New Haven and London, 1981, no. 72, 291- 2. 52 Francesco Caglioti, ‘Donatello, I Medici e Gentile de' Becchi: un po' d'ordine intorno alla 'Giuditta' (e al 'David') di Via Larga’, Prospettiva, no. 75-6, 1994, 14-49;no. 78, 1995, 22-55 and no. 80, 1995, 15-58; Caglioti, Donatello, as at note 9. 53 Marco Tonelli, ‘La più mirabil cosa’: Teoria della statua da Donatello a Rodin, Rome, 2006; For the David as anticipating Alberti’s theorisation of the statua see Marco Collareta, ‘Considerazioni in margine al ‘De statua’ ed alla sua fortuna’, Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, Classe di Lettere e Filosofia, ser. III, 12, 1982, 171-187. 54 Caglioti, Donatello, I, 89-100, 139-143, 217-218. For the David as a column monument see Horst W. Janson, ‘La signification politique du David en bronze de Donatello’, Revue de l‘Art, 39, 1978, 33- 38 at 37-8; (though claiming that the David was first commissioned by the Florentine government as a fully public column monument). The thesis of the sculpture’s public function is rejected by Volker Herzner, (‘David Florentinus 2: Der Bronze-David Donatellos im Bargello’, Jahrbuch der Berliner Museen, 24, 1982, 105-6). For public statuary according to the typology of Säulenmonumenten and their changing evaluation (without reference to Donatello’s Medici bronzes) see Werner Haftmann, 13 Removed after the ousting of the Medici in 1494, both works were famously re-installed at the Florentine town hall. One of several precise records of the event reads: ‘Antonio Manetti being Gonfaloniere, that column where Judith slays Holofernes was placed on the ringhiera. On the 29th of December was placed in the courtyard of the Palazzo della Signoria the column of David which was taken from the house of Piero di Lorenzo de’ Medici’.55 The transfer of these complete ensembles from the ‘casa’ to the ‘palazzo’ is highly eloquent: marking a transition from a family residence presented as a centre of power to the public place of renewed republican rule and of two centuries of civic representation.56 The sculptures, though newly dedicated to a pristine res publica resonated clearly as a display of spoils.57 The memory of their previous lives was further guaranteed by the retention of their Medici-commissioned pedestals. In view of this history, it may indeed have seemed ominous when the base of the David was struck by lightning in its new location in 1511.58 While its date and earliest situation have been debated, we know that with its installation in the courtyard of the new Medici palace in the 1450s, the David gained a Latin titulus and a pedestal, encompassing what was probably itself a piece of spoliated ancient marble. The latter consisted of a variegated red marble column, set upon a more visually ‘open’ white marble element supported by corner ‘harpies’ - apparently variations of the Roman sphinx type - and further decorated with tendrils in bronze. The former, as is by now well known, read: ‘The victor is whoever defends the fatherland / God crushes the wrath of an enormous foe./ Behold! a boy overcame a great tyrant / Conquer, oh citizens!’. The inscription thus helped to justify the scale and elaboration of the pedestal.59 As Caglioti argues, the titulus surely postdated the 1454 arrival of the humanist Gentile de’ Becchi (c. 1425- 1497) as priest and tutor in Cosimo de’ Medici’s household, since the inscriptions beneath both Das italienische Säulenmonument. Versuch zur Geschichte einer antiken Form des Denkmals und Kultmonumentes und ihrer Wirksamkeit für die Antikenvorstellung des Mittelalters und für die Ausbildung des öffentlichen Denkmals in der Frührenaissance, Leipzig and Berlin. 1939, reprinted Hildesheim 1972 55 Ricordi of Lorenzo di Giovanni Ruspoli in Caglioti, Donatello, I, 106-7 and 299-303 for other versions taken from the ‘Prioristi’ or lists of government offices. 56 Nonetheless Géraldine Johnson’s reading according to which the move transformed the Judith from ‘Medicean idol into a Republican ideal’ implies, problematically, that the Judith was viewed as ‘pagan’ as opposed to republican while in Medici possession (‘Idol or Ideal? – the Power and Potency of Female Public sculpture’ in eds. Géraldine Johnson and Sara F. Matthews Grieco, Picturing Women in Renaissance and Baroque Italy, Cambridge, 1997, 222-245 at 231. See also on the signficance of this move Sarah Blake McHam, ‘Donatello’s Bronze David and Judith as Metaphors of Medici Rule in Florence’, Art Bulletin, 83, 2001, 32-47. 57 Piero Parenti calls the Judith ‘spoglia di Piero de’ Medici’ in his Storia fiorentina, ed. Andrea Matucci, vol. I, 1994, 291, transcribed also in Caglioti, Donatello, I, 303-4. 58 Ricordanze di Bartolommeo Masi calderaio fiorentino dal 1478 al 1526, ed. Giuseppe O. Corazzini, Florence, 1906, 82-83 and Archivio di Stato di Firenze, Manoscritti, 88, ‘Ricordi di Piero Masi dal 1452 al 1513’, f. 15r, both quoted in extract in Caglioti, Donatello, I, 111. For the interest in the event as an omen ibid. I, 344. 59 The Latin read ‘Victor est quisquis patriam tuetur. / Frangit immanis [or iniusti, Bodleian, Lat. Misc. e 81] Deus hostis iras / En puer grandem domuit tiranum. / Vincite, cives!’. The inscription was first published by Christine Sperling, ‘Donatello’s Bronze ‘David’ and the Demands of Medici Politics’, Burlington Magazine, 134, 1992, 218-224 at 218-20. Her recorded examples have been joined by many others brought together by Giovanni Agosti and Vincenzo Farinella in Paola Barocchi ed., Il giardino di San Marco. Maestri e compagni del giovane Michelangelo, exh. cat., Florence, Casa Buonarroti, 1992, 99 and notes 141-2 and, above all, by Caglioti, ‘Donatello, I Medici’ and Donatello, I, 5-12 and 57-73. 14 Donatello sculptures are recorded in a collection of Becchi’s Latin poems in a manuscript now in Oxford.60 Speaking to Medici political interests, the verse inscriptions allowed these works to enter into a tradition of ‘eloquent’ Florentine civic representations in the public sphere for which expository tituli had been composed, thus claiming for the new commissions a similarly broad audience.61 As elements that required reading front and back, if not necessarily around, the bases, the epigrams would also have reinforced the invitation provided by the columnar pedestals (and David’s laurel garland) to circulate about the figures and admire them from multiple angles.62 The pedestals, indeed, served as the visual equivalent to Gentile Becchi’s rhetorical injunctions to ‘Behold!’. In each case victories over Israelite enemies, described as taking place in the past, were held up as both visually striking and vital to contemporaries, whether those ‘citizens’ were already under Medici protection or were to be persuaded into the fold. The pedestals, tall and inscribed, strongly reinforced the celebratory evaluation of David and Judith as victors. In part this was a simple matter of elevation: the higher the column, the greater the honour to the victor. Columns were quite frequently set up in commemoration of Christian ‘victories’ in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, but it was also well known that ancient victors had been honoured with columnar monuments like that of Trajan (from whose giant pedestal derives the garland on which the hero David stands), or like the Roman equestrian monument, a genre that Donatello reworked for the mercenary captain, ‘Gattamelata’, at Padua (1447-53).63 When Alberti referred to freestanding columns in his contemporary architectural treatise it was as public monumenta in an appropriately rich idiom. Recommending that columns be raised on steps and use superimposed pedestals (arae), Alberti suggests a further intervening plinth ‘to make the work higher and more beautiful’. This could then be ornamented with celebratory allegories such as Victoria, Gloria or Fama and the pedestal be decorated above with gilded bronze.64 In a Florentine context, the pedestal of the gilded bronze David, apparently the first of its type, also looks symptomatic of a more general inflation in honorary forms and gestures found not just in humanist writing but in civic manifestations of the period.65 Already in 1429 one viewer of the great Epiphany procession remarked on the impressive altitude at which ‘David’ managed to remain standing on his triumphal car following the procession of the Magi.66 As Trexler 60 Bodleian MS, Lat. Misc. e 81. 61 For example those composed for the Palazzo Vecchio by Franco Sacchetti and Coluccio Salutati in the 1380s, recorded in later manuscript collections. See Nicolai Rubinstein, The Palazzo Vecchio 1298-1532: Government, Architecture, and Imagery in the Civic Palace of the Florentine Republic, Oxford, 1995, 49-54. 62 Christine Rebene, ‘Die Entwicklung der Freifigur’, in eds. Lars O. Larrson and Götz. Pochat, Kunstgeschichtliche Studien zur Florentiner Renaissance, I, Stockholm, 1991, 69-77 points out, however, that the David has only four fully satisfactory viewpoints. 63 Haftmann, Säulenmonument, esp. 115-6 for spoliated memorial columns at Venice, Pisa, Florence and elsewhere. 64 Leon Battista Alberti, De Re Aedificatoria,VIII, chap. 3 (eds. Giovanni Orlandi and Paolo Portoghesi, 685): ‘quo esset opus celsiori cum venustate’ and 687. See also Jonathan B. Reiss, ‘The Civic View of Sculpture in Alberti’s De re aedificatoria’, Renaissance Quarterly, 32, 1979, 1-17 focussing on Alberti’s encouragement of revived ancient sculptural forms, especially the triumphal arch and the column, as long as they were commissioned in the public good and not by private individuals. 65 Trexler, Public Life, 223, 241-7, 258-263 who links this increased magnificence above all to the representational needs of Florentine government. 15 observed, from the mid Trecento onwards, a number of Florence’s most important civic feasts were instituted as ‘memories of victories’ over both foreign enemies and, in the case of the feast of St. Anne for example, over internal tyranny.67 This celebratory, but also militant, patriotic and exhortatory rhetoric attaching to the David and to the later Judith group was a major aspect of their public, civic appeal both at the Medici palace and at the town hall after 1495 – even though, by then, the Medici themselves had been toppled from their pedestal and re-constructed as negative exemplars of internal tyranny.68 Statues raised on columns were, as in Venice, Siena or Este-governed Ferrara, associated strongly with the presence of princely authority and the exercise of Justice - political and ethical ideals worthy of being ‘looked up’ to as well as feared.69 The David and Judith bronzes confronted viewers with either the spectacle or aftermath of execution, certainly not judicial, but presented as just. Such a construction is what enabled Niccolò Risorboli, in an encomiastic canzone identified by Randolph, to read the David as a kind of allegory of the overcoming of the Pitti-Neroni conspiracy (1466).70 This was, naturally, a later imposition upon Donatello’s statue of a kind designed to ingratiate Risorboli with Piero de’ Medici, but the reading responds to the highly communicative and rhetorical character of Donatello’s sculpture as a column monument. Column statues, as objects isolated within a larger urban scene, were designed to command attention and, when located in a space of circulation, they produced not just a compositional centre but a centre of power; they were sites from which passers-by or visitors might feel watched over but also over-seen. There is a further, less straightforwardly political, discourse of power pertaining to the sculpture on a high pedestal, in which the David, as a nude figure in a classicising pose and material was particularly implicated. Heckscher argued eloquently in the case of the ancient bronzes collected in the Middle Ages at the Lateran in Rome that the combination of the figure and column brought with it connotations not only of justice but also, unavoidably, of ‘pagan idol’.71 While actual ancient statues were frequently preserved, even treasured in the Christian era, pagan idols on high pedestals - inviting the worship of the figure as if it were animate - asked to be toppled.72 Freestanding cast sculpture in precious materials such as 66 Paolo di Matteo di Pietrobuoni cited in Rab Hatfield, ‘The Compagnia dei Magi’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 33, 1970, 107-161 at 146. 67 Trexler, Public Life, 222-23. 68 For the significance of this rhetoric for Cosimo de’ Medici and his contemporaries, see especially Dale Kent, Cosimo de’ Medici and the Florentine Renaissance. The Patron’s Oeuvre, New Haven and London, 2000, 283-4. 69 Haftmann, Säulenmonument, 118-120; Wolfgang Wolters, La scultura veneziana gotica (1300- 1460), Venice, 1976, I, 20; Charles M. Rosenberg, The Este Monuments and Urban Development in Este Ferrara, Cambridge and New York, 1997. 70 Adrian W.B. Randolph, Engaging Symbols: Gender, Politics, and Public Art in Fifteenth-Century Florence, New Haven and London, 2002, Chap. 4, 139-40. In Risorboli’s canzone ‘Fiorenza’ declares ‘On a column is an armed one, / Who appears to give grief to your enemies, / So that you fear and love / That which is done by him to overcome Goliath. / This was that unjust and ill-spirited faction, That wanted to take from me those who were born with me….and its great iniquity/ Fell to reason and justice’. For the Italian see Antonio Lanza, Lirici toscani del Quattrocento, Rome, 1975, 2, 379. 71 William S. Heckscher, Sixtus IIII aeneas insignes statuas Romano populo restituendas censuit […], 'S-Gravenhage, 1955, esp. 16. See also Janson, ‘Signification’, 38; Michael Camille, The Gothic Idol: Ideology and Image-making in Medieval Art, Cambridge, 1989, Chap. 2; A. Chastel, ‘Les ‘idoles’ à la Renaissance’, in Silvia Danesi Squarzina ed., Roma centro ideale della cultura antico nei secoli XV e XVI, Milan 1989, 468-476. 16 bronze or gold – of which the Golden Calf set up by Aaron for the Israelites and destroyed by Moses (Exodus 32) was the paradigmatic Judaeo-Christian example - were especially open to condemnation as the symbols of sacrifice to false gods.73 Pagan images could continue to provoke emotive responses when given exalted positions, however temporary. Thus in his description of the 1454 procession for the feast of San Giovanni (in the decade the David was mounted in the Medici palace courtyard), Matteo Palmieri tells us that a ‘German’ spectator was so incensed by one of the pagan tableaux that he climbed on to the representation of the Roman Temple of Peace, took down the ‘idolo’ and threw it into the piazza before doing the same to the emperor Octavian.74 It seems significant, though, that Palmieri singled out the iconoclast as a foreigner. The tableau was considered a perfectly acceptable fiction by the Florentine festaiuoli who designed the parade: the float was to be received as an episode within a Christian salvation history; it was also designed to entertain the crowd and be admired. A decade or so later, the draughtsman of the so-called Florentine Picture Chronicle, working in a similar vernacular idiom, depicted the statue of the Golden Calf upon a magnificent, isolated column with Donatellesque linguiform ornament (fig. 6). Both idol and column are raised upon a broad low vase with a victory garland, rather like that of Donatello’s David.75 What the draughtsman offers is aesthetic admiration for the ‘pagan’ pedestal. A similar instance of artistic enjoyment of the idol already in the 1450s has been pointed out by Patricia Fortini Brown who noted the visual interest firmly centred on the statue of Bacchus and his almost absurdly large, ornate pedestal at the expense of the figure of the saint in the St. Apollonia destroying a Pagan Idol, a panel attributed to Antonio Vivarini.76 By the 1450s when the bronze and gold David gained its new pedestal, it seems the sculpture would benefit, rather than suffer, from comparison with ‘pagan’ practices of displaying statuary. The Desiderio pedestal helped to inscribe the ideal viewer as an admiring devotee of antiquity and its cultic images, images that were appreciable for their beauty and artifice.77 The idol-like quality of the David was evidently not dependent on its 72 For the rehabilitation of the ‘idol’ form in the Renaissance see Camille, Gothic Idol, 346 and Cole and Zorach eds, The Idol in the Age of Art, 3-4. For varied Christian attitudes and actions towards pagan sculpture in late antiquity and Byzantium see especially Liz James, ‘”Pray not to Fall into Temptation and Be on Your Guard”: Pagan Statues in Christian Constantinople’, Gesta, 35, no. 1, 1996, 12-20 (critiquing the anachronism of Cyril Mango, ‘Antique Statuary and the Byzantine Beholder, Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 17, 1963, pp. 53-75) and Helen Saradi-Mendelovici, ‘Christian Attitudes toward Pagan Monuments in Late Antiquity and Their Legacy in Later Byzantine Centuries’, Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 44, 1990, 47-61. 73 Werner Hofmann ed., Luther und die Folgen für die Kunst, Hamburg Kunsthalle exh. cat. 1983-4, 132-5; Camille, Gothic Idol, 126, 233-4 for representations of saints on columns. For the later, seventeenth-century instrumentalisation of Jewish idolatry and the lessons of the Golden Calf by Calvinist reformers see J. Sheehan, ‘Sacred and Profane: Idolatry, Antiquarianism and the Polemics of Distinction in the Seventeenth Century’, Past and Present, 192, 2006, 35-66. 74 Matteo Palmieri, Liber de temporibus,in Rerum italicarum scriptores,vol. 26, part 1, 172-4; See Alessandro d’Ancona, Origini del teatro italiano, I, Turin, 1891, 228 ff. 75 Sidney Colvin, A Florentine Picture Chronicle, London, 1898, plates XX and XXI; Arthur E. Popham and Philip Pouncey, Italian Drawings in the British Museum, the Fourteenth and Fifteenth Centuries, London, 1950, I, no. 274, II, pls. CCXXXVII-CCXLI. Colvin describes the fascination with the ‘pedestal’ of the calf in terms of a goldsmith’s taste for ornament and, less convincingly, with the description of the candlestick of the tabernacle of the Covenant in Exodus (25, 31-37). 76 In the National Gallery of Art, Washington. Patricia Fortini Brown, ‘The Antiquarianism of Jacopo Bellini’, Artibus et Historiae, 13, no. 26, 1992, 65-84 at 77-78 and idem, Venice and Antiquity, 135. 77 For the David bronze as ‘idol’ see also Camille, Gothic Idol, 344-5. 17 explicit agency as an Old Testament exemplar but enabled it rather, alluringly, to command a space and draw the gaze in a manner not dissimilar from those elevated and perspectivally-centred pagan idols in Jacopo Bellini’s drawing books of this period.78 The David’s elevation, naturalism and other sensuous similarities to a work such as the Roman bronze Spinario, not only provoked admiration as ‘art’, they likewise helped to make the flattering case for Florence as the new Rome.79 The figure’s dependence on the pedestal for its command over the viewer has been incontrovertibly demonstrated by the recent provision of a high columnar support to a new copy of the David bronze in the Bargello. In addition to the positive, heroic enhancement to the body offered by the view from below, the dialectical structure of the figure-pedestal relationship is also highlighted by the negative suggestion of the fearfulness and ‘baseness’ of the pedestal. The appropriately female-gendered harpy/sphinxes designed by Desiderio at the base of the pedestal could be read as a kind of ‘other’ to the holy and virile exemplar. This is no simple equation, however, since not only might the Old Testament hero’s actions themselves inspire both ‘love and fear’ but the harpy/sphinxes, as guardians of the monument, were not presented simply as fearful hybrids.80 If Caglioti’s persuasive identification of sculptural fragments in the Chigi-Saracini and Museo Horne is correct, the creatures from the lost base appeared not only beautiful and protective, but positively beatific. Desiderio showed himself here a masterly interpreter if not a simple amanuensis of Donatello. The oppositional relationships that are set up, yet also questioned, in the David bronze, operate both internally to the bronze itself and, in parallel, between the hero and his pedestal. Such relationships are elaborated in less subtle terms in Donatello’s second freestanding bronze for the Medici. The Judith slaying Holofernes (fig. 7, Palazzo Vecchio, Florence) is a work that Vasari credited to Donatello in its entirety and though once dismissed as a later addition, its pedestal has been shown to have a good claim to be that designed by the sculptor himself.81 It takes the form of a simple but very large double- baluster carved from grey granite sandwiched between two white marble drums. The absolutely novel baluster shape (only Castagno’s fictive version in the equestrian fresco of Niccolò da Tolentino pre-dates it) represents a radical simplification of a Roman candelabrum form – such that it hardly resembles one - and re-iterates, in more robust kind, the slender free-standing double balusters incorporated at each corner of the triangular cast 78 See the British Museum Drawings Nook, f. 97 with a nude figure on a columnar fountain especially the opening with soldiers looking up at a pagan idol, where the right hand page shows a statue (now barely legible) on a Corinthian column raised on a hexagonal base (Louvre Drawings Book , f. 47); also the folio of polygonal temple containing a pagan idol (Louvre Drawing Book, f. 53). 79 The Spinario was arguably also a column figure even before its transfer to the Capitol, see Chiara Frugoni, ‘L’antichità: dai ‘Mirabilia’ alla propaganda politica’, in ed. Salvatore Settis, Memoria dell’Antico nell’arte italiana, I, L’uso dei classici, 1984, at 14 and fig. 2. 80 In the later sixteenth-century Junius (Emblemata, 1565) interpreted the sphinx as a symbol of God: both virginal and fierce, to be loved and feared (Margaret Aston, The King’s Bedpost: Reformation and Iconography in a Tudor Group Portrait, Cambridge, 1993, 86 and fig. 68). The inscription with the sphinx emblem reads ‘Mysteris addicta Memphis ade pro sacra / Sphingem biformeme dedicavit, symbolum Dei. Amato numen ceu piis mite, ac placabile: Rursus time, ut vindex inexorabile impii’. 81 Caglioti, Donatello, I, 89-100. 18 base of the bronze group.82 Vasari wrote of it admiringly: ‘similarly the base, which is a granite baluster of a simple Order is full of grace and pleasing to the eye’.83 Contrary to claims that the pedestal is a palimpsest, technical evidence has shown that the baluster and the lower marble drum were carved to fit one another and must both, therefore, have been made either in 1495, which does not accord with the sources, or before Donatello’s death in 1466.84 The strigilated motif of the base, originating in works by Brunelleschi and deriving principally from Roman funerary art, is common in Medicean works of the 1440s to 1460s such as the altar of the tabernacle at SS. Annunziata (1449) and tomb pier of Cosimo de’Medici in the crypt of Saan Lorenzo. It seems likely, indeed, that Donatello’s more knowledgeable viewers could have recognised the S-fluting of the lower drum as connected with funerary altars or sarcophagi and thus appropriate to the imagery of death and salvation represented by the Judith. Some further external weight to Caglioti’s case for a 1460s date for the base may be brought by the pedestal form used to support the burning figure of Febilla, in an early Florentine print of a legend of Virgil the sorcerer.85 The combination of baluster form and fluted drum in the engraving probably recalls the slightly earlier Judith. With the contemporaneousness of the base to the statue established, an argument for a distinct formal and thematic continuity between the pedestal and the bronze it supports is strengthened. The sculpture is most often referred to as ‘Judith’ in contemporary sources, and simply as ‘a woman’ in the dedicatory inscription originally appended to one side of the pedestal by its commissioner: ‘Public health. Piero de’ Medici son of Cosimo, has dedicated this statue of a woman to the union of fortitude and liberty, so that the citizens should be brought back with an unvanquished and constant spirit to the defence of the Republic’.86 Though this nomination implies that Holofernes is effectively an attribute, Donatello devoted half of Judith’s standing height to the dying body of the assassinated general and the dialectic which operates between them as victor and vanquished is, I would argue, formally and symbolically played out in the pedestal. Vasari’s evaluation of the base in terms of ‘grazia’ alerts us to the potentially ‘womanly’ quality of the double-baluster form, whose sinuous profile is ingeniously extended into the ornament of the lower drum.87 There is also a clear sense in which the double-baluster refers to two distinct and opposed bodies. Judith rises above her enemy, strong and austere, columnar even, the very image of 82 For the derivation of the double baluster from antique decorative forms see Paul Davies and David Hemsoll, ‘Renaissance Balusters and the Antique’, Architectural History. Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians of Great Britain, 25, 1983, 1-23; Cagliotii, Donatello, I, 100, note 78. 83 ‘Similmente il basamento, ch’è un balaustro di granito con semplice ordine, si dimostra ripieno di grazia et a gli occhi grato in aspetto’, Vasari, Le Vite, ed. Milanesi, III, 210. 84 Anna Maria Giusti, Roberto. Manni and Roberto Nesti, ‘Il restauro del sostegno lapideo’ in Donatello e il restauro della Giuditta, Florence, 1988, 118-20; Caglioti, Donatello, I, 93 ff. 85 Arthur M. Hind. Early Italian Engraving, London, 1948, A.I.46 vol. I, cat. no. 46 and II, Plate 45. The badly damaged print, which also exists in a second version, probably dates to the 1460s. 86 ‘Salus Publica. Petrus Medices Cos. fi. libertati simul / et fortitudini hanc mulieris statuam, /quo cives invicto constantique animo ad / rem publicam redderentur, dedicavit’. 87 For the alignment of ‘grace’ as a quality of art and female beauty see Philip Sohm,‘Gendered Style in Italian Art Criticism from Michelangelo to Malvasia’, Renaissance Quarterly, 48, no. 4, 1995, 759- 808 at 765-8 and 770. 19 Fortitude. On the ornamental panel on her left arm she wears, in emblematic fashion, the image of an upright vessel, a vase of poppies.88 Holofernes by contrast is a vessel emptied of life. Artificially supported above a sagging cushion, his frozen limbs are, to borrow Vasari’s expressive description, ‘falling’. Already in the triangular bronze support that underpins and controls the dominant viewpoints for the group, reference is made to Holofernes’ ‘base’ nature, that drunken luxuria that brought his downfall. The enebriated putti who disport themselves on the lower reliefs serve, as Charles Dempsey aptly puts it, as ‘ornament in action that comments upon and enlarges the main theme’.89 Similarly, in the double-baluster form of the monumental base, the counterpoint of upright and decadent bodies is reiterated in the abstract by an upright vase form standing above an upturned one. Even the fluid channels of the lower drum might be read as issuing from the upturned vessel, itself a recognisable symbol of drunkenness. To a greater extent than the David, another example of humility triumphant, the base refigures both the thematic and formal division of the bronze sculpture and the rhetorical ‘contrapposto’ of the inscription. On the opposite side from the dedication to the patron, a second inscription, read: ‘Kingdoms fall through luxury, cities rise through virtues. Behold the neck of pride severed by the hand of humility’.90 Thus the rise of cities is counterweighted to the fall of kingdoms, humility overturns pride with the slice of a sword. Holofernes is clearly produced as the moral inversion of the upright Judith. The dialectical quality of the pedestals for the early Medici bronzes accords with the extended imagery of triumph in this period, especially in the case of the Judith since it implicitly figures the base as the place of domination over vice.91 Where the statue conquers, Gross has argued that the base itself is mythically construed as a victim.92 While such a distinction is crude, certainly Donatello’s Judith and, in direct emulation of it, Cellini’s later Perseus bronze (fig. 18), both offer an emotive overspill onto the pedestal from the conquered and broken body of the freshly dead or dying enemy. The conquering Judith also binds Holofernes as she slays him, an operation that could have evoked for Florentine viewers the famous Quattrocento imagery of the Petrarchan triumph. In panels representing the Trionfo di Amore of the 1460s onwards, (workshop of Apollonio di Giovanni, Pinacoteca Nazionale, Siena, Jacopo del Sellaiuolo, Museo Bandini, for example) Love’s victims are 88 Wind, Pagan Mysteries, 268 note 1, refers to later examples of the vase of flowers signifying virtues implanted in the soul, notably in Paolo Giovio’s, Dialogo dell’imprese militari et amorose and the ‘Fame’ relief of the Gerolamo Della Torre tomb by Riccio where a vase holding plants is inscribed VIRTUS. 89 Charles Dempsey, Inventing the Renaissance Putto, Chapel Hill and London, 2001, 55-58. Patricia Rubin (‘Signposts of Invention: Artists’ Signatures in Italian Renaissance Art’, Art History, 29, no. 4, 2006, 563-599 at 581-3) argues that the putti, appearing below Donatello’s signature on the cushion also act as a ‘signature gesture’ in relation to Donatello’s earlier work, being associated with his poetic creative powers. 90 In the Latin, the word ‘cesa’ (sever) cuts the distich in two: ‘Regna cadunt luxu, surgunt virtutibus urbes:/ Cesa vides humili colla superba manu’. The version cited is from Passerini’s codex in the Biblioteca Nazionale 140bis f. 153v (see Caglioti, Donatello, I,.9). Caglioti (100, note 80) argues that there may have been a now missing element to the pedestal that contained the old Medici inscriptions. The lozenge of darker marble standing proud as a stop marking the end/beginning of the later inscription could conceivably coincide with the original level of an inscription. 91 In Vasari’s posthumous portrait of Lorenzo ‘il Magnifico’ de’ Medici as enlightened ruler all’antica an ancient vessel inscribed VIRTUTUM OMNIA VAS (the vessel of all virtue) appears next to him while the socle supporting it reads VITIA VIRTUTI SUBIACENT. This represents an ideological position typical of Medici absolutist power of the sixteenth century. 92 Kenneth Gross, The Dream of the Moving Statue, Ithaca, N.Y., 1992, 178. 20 bound around the base of his high, gilded, fountain-like pedestal while in the subsequent Trionfo di Pudicizia the naked Cupid is himself tied to the base of Chastity’s pedestal.93 Within the self-celebratory mode of Quattrocento public sculpture actual bases rarely include explicit representations of restrained enemies or ‘vices’. Nonetheless, the pathetic, ‘ornamental’ and violent possibilities of subjugation did begin to be worked out in graphic inventions of the period that remain close to the festival culture of Trionfi. A niello design and a related Florentine print of the 1460s represents a triumphant all’antica woman, in the act of beheading a naked, bearded man (Hind A. II, 11) who is chained, seated, to a basin-shaped pedestal (fig. 8).94 The victim adopts the pose of an antique seated Marsyas, the exemplum of defeated pride.95 But the pedestal also extends its scope through a series of rings for tethering further ‘captives’, slaves perhaps to vice and ‘baseness’. The pedestal as an explicit site of moral and even sexual subjugation or subjection, already rendered ambivalent in this print, was markedly more problematic in monumental works. Famously, concern was voiced by the Florentine herald Francesco Filarete that Donatello’s image of Judith beheading Holofernes was unfitting as an exemplar of a woman killing a man: as a ‘segnio mortifero’ she had brought bad luck on the city since her ill-starred installation at the town hall.96 It is not until Medici rule became absolute that emasculated captives or prigioni, albeit in highly abstract form, first featured in Florence on the pedestal base of Baccio Bandinelli’s Hercules and Cacus, erected in 1534.97 In an decorative context this motif had begun to appear more frequently from the earlier sixteenth-century already, especially in Venice and the Veneto. In a sculptural ensemble like that by Riccio discussed below, such bound figures bring an emotive pathos to the realm of the base. While troubling to modern viewers, to contemporaries prisoners were construed as hierarchically appropriate and even imaginatively diverting ornaments.98 Statues in miniature Pedestals produced in Florence, Siena and Venice, especially in the wake of Donatello’s models were highly inventive, drawing above all on a rich range of antique monumental 93 See for these examples and others Alexandra Ortner, Petrarcas ‘Trionfi’ in Malerei, Dichtung und Festkultur: Untersuchung zur Entstehung und Verbreitung einer florentinischeen Bildmotivs auf cassoni und deschi da parto des 15. Jahrhunderts, Weimar, 1998, esp. Anhang I, no. 6, 338-42 and no. 7, 343-5. 94 Hind, Engraving, I,, p. 67-8, cat. no. A.II.11, referring also to a niello print in the library of Parma. For a detailed reading of the print and the problem of its moral coding see Randolph, Engaging, 271- 4. 95 See especially Francesco Caglioti and Davide Gasparotto, ‘Lorenzo Ghiberti, il ‘sigillo di Nerone’ e le origini della placchetta ‘antiquaria’’, Prospettiva, 85, 1997, 2-38 at CH CH 96 A new transcription of the whole of the herald’s judgement (given in the context of deliberations over the location of Michelangelo’s David) is provided by Caglioti (Donatello, I, 305, note 54 for further literature). See also H. Bredekamp, Repräsentation und Bildmagie der Renaissance als Formproblem, Munich, 1995, 10-29; Randolph, Engaging, 280-1; Johnson, ‘Idol or Ideal?’, 231-2. 97 Weil-Garris Brandt (‘On Pedestals, 396-7 and note 82) suggestively connects these figures to the monumental ‘prisoners’ and herms designed for the colossal pedestal-like structure of Michelangelo’s early design for the tomb of Julius II. 98 See for example the pair of bronze candelabra for San Marco, Venice, commissioned in 1527 from Maffeo Olivieri (Danizio Cattoi in eds. Bacchi and Giacomelli, Rinascimento e passione per l’antico. cat. no. 82, 410-415). Satyrs appear bound near the foot while, high above, a ring of nude figures dance in triumph and hold up the inscription declaring the commission and authorship of the candelabrum. 21 features mined from objects such as funerary altars and marble candelabra. It may not have been the case that the original function of these spolia was always understood but, even when they were, an appreciation of artistic inventio meant this presented no bar to their imaginative re-application as pedestals. Equally the development of the formal vocabulary, if not the semantics, of the pedestal in the early modern period owed relatively little to antique literary descriptions of statues such as those of Pliny the Elder or Pausanius, not least perhaps because these writers were not concerned with the precise appearance of any of the statue bases they admired.99 Among contemporary sculptors directly inspired by antique ornament and the recent models of Donatello and Desiderio, the goldsmith Antonio del Pollaiuolo emerges as preeminent in the development of the pedestal. In addition to designing battle reliefs as a fitting ornament for the base of the equestrian monument, he pioneered integrally designed and cast bases for the revived genre of the bronze statuette).100 Pollaiuolo’s surviving bronze figures - which might be seen as smaller substitutes, or even calling cards,, for monumental commissions - are cast on a larger scale than surviving ancient statuettes and invited substantial pedestals (eg. figs. 9 and 10). These he designed, I would argue, both to condition the viewing of the small-scale figure along the heroic lines of the freestanding statua, which they evoke, and to produce the work as an object of the possessive gaze. With a more obvious derivation from ancient candelabrum tripods than Donatello’s Judith, Pollaiuolo’s triangular bases - actually truncated, three-sided pyramids – are adapted in terms of their height and breadth to the proportions of the figure they support. The corners and sides of the pedestal also effectively direct the beholder towards the ideal views onto the figure in the round and dramatise the subject, whose limbs often overhang the base. Such devices are indebted to Donatello but, by their application to the small scale, are turned to new effects. Ultimately the bases of Pollaiuolo’s statuettes served to inscribe a new type of viewer: a collector and connoisseur of such intimate objects and of ancient art who could handle, contemplate and strategically place the work within their study to ‘magnificent effect’.101 While the integral bases implicitly serve to highlight Pollaiuolo’s own powers as a sculptor, the pedestals of two surviving single figures of Hercules Victor, also explicitly allude to the pedestal as a site of temporary tributes. That in Berlin (fig. 9) bears an empty ansate tablet, whereas that in the Frick Collection, New York, apparently a later cast from a model of Hercules with his foot on an ox’s skull, introduces trophies.102 Like the carved garlands on 99 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, completed AD 70s; Pausanius, Description of Greece, 2nd century AD. 100 The exemplary combination of contemporary equestrian warrior with an historiated base displaying battle reliefs is one we know of only from Vasari’s description of the artist’s drawing for a monument to Francesco Sforza. The drawing (now in Munich) has since had the base ‘pieno di battaglie’ carefully cut off it, see Wright, Pollaiuolo, . 137-142 and List of Works no. 17 and for Pollaiuolo’s statuettes and their ideal viewers see Chap. 11. 101 The quote is from Cellini’s account of his display of the statuettes for the base of the Perseus (somewhat above eye level) to impress Cosimo I and Eleonora of Toledo (The Life of Benvenuto Cellini, (transl. J.A. Symonds), ed. Charles Hope and Alessandro Nova, Oxford, 1983, 191-192). 102 This sculpture has been recently re-attributed to Giovanfrancesco Rustici as a work of c. 1515 and a possible model for a larger Medici commission, see Tommaso Mozzati, ‘Il fuoco e l’alchimista. Giovanfrancesco Rusticie la practica del bronzo’, Proporzioni, n.s. 6, 2005 (2007), 142-175 at 154- 156, 174-5; idem. Giovanfrancesco Rustici. Le Compagnie del Paiuolo e della Cazzuola. Arte, letteratura, festa nell’età della Maniera, Florence, 2008, 126-7 and especially ‘Una proposta per Giovanfrancesco Rustici. L’Ercole giovane della Frick Collection’ CH CH locate via Denise?: . Stylistic comparison with the early sixteenth-century David ‘Pulszky’ in the Louvre, attributed to Rustici by Caglioti, seems rather to confirm the much more stable, less mannered ponderation of the Frick figure. 22 Roman funerary arae, these ornaments are shown as suspended, rather than permanently attached to the base and seem to imply an act of dedication. The viewer is called to imagine a ritual context in which these signs of honour were appended and, perhaps, to question why the prominent Berlin tablet bears no inscription. Does the sculptor invite the viewer’s tribute to Hercules alone, or equally to himself, as a rival to the artists of antiquity?103 The type of the ‘trophy’ base, adapted for the Frick figure was also adopted before 1490 on the pedestals of the, now lost, bronze statues of nude warriors, in the forecourt of Matthias Corvinus’ royal palace at Buda.104 In both the freestanding statue and its more affordable relative, the bronze statuette, the trophy ornament allowed the work to extend the inevitable imaginative dialogue both with surviving ancient bronzes and with ancient literary evocations of the ritual uses and belligerent themes of sculpture.105 The early Cinquecento It is in the field of the small bronze that some of the most ingenious adaptations of ancient furniture supports, including tripods, continued to be employed well into the sixteenth century, even if inconsistently.106 Yet already in the early 1500s the gap between the ornamentation of bases for small domestic bronze furnishings, especially tableware, and that for freestanding figures opened wider. With the obvious exception of fountain sculpture, a more sober, architectural, rather than sculptural, aesthetic became the norm for bases for freestanding statues.107 One spur to this may have been a fuller antiquarian knowledge of Roman practice - though it should be remembered that ancient statues were quite happily accommodated on funerary altars in the sixteenth century.108 In the case of Michelangelo’s David, which was influentially installed on an architectonic - and architect designed - plinth in 1504, the need to integrate the ‘gigante’ with the Prior’s rostrum, to which it formed a high termination, would also have been a crucial factor. While still talismanic in its presence, the great eloquence, difficulty and classicising appearance of Michelangelo’s statue was achieved at the expense of the ornamental and thematic charge of many Quattrocento ensembles - not least the columnar Judith which it replaced, or the inventive four double- baluster pedestal for the Florentine lion (Marzocco), with which it continued to share the ringhiera.109 Tellingly it is Baccio Bandinelli, who aspired to Donatello and Michelangelo’s honours, who chose to provide more ornate, encomiastic bases all’antica for several of his public sculptures. One of these, the ara-like pedestal carved by Benedetto da Rovezzano for the 103 The ansate tablet was at this time beginning to be used as a place of authorial inscription in prints, probably following Pollaiuolo’s own precedent in the Battle of Nude Men engraving. 104 See Bonfini, (Feuer-Tóth, ed. 1990, 127, transl., Elmer, Webb and Wood, 209). 105 Wright, Pollaiuolo,, 349 for trophy ornament, 337 for probable inspiration from Greek ‘iconic’ epigrams. 106 For many late fifteenth and sixteenth-century examples see eg, Herbert Beck and Dieter Blume eds., Natur und Antike in der Renaissance, exhib. cat. Liebighaus, Frankfurt am Main, 1985. 107 For the architectural plinth in the sixteenth century see esp. Keutner, ‘Über die Entstehung’. 108 See for example the colossal bronze statue of Hercules ‘Victor’ unearthed in the Forum Boarium under pope Sixtus IV and which was later installed on a cylindrical altar, adorned with Herculean clubs and garlands suspended from ribbons. 109 For the Marzocco base see Alessandro Cecchi, ‘Giuliano e Benedetto da Maiano ai servigi della Signoria fiorentina’, in Daniele Lamberini et al., eds, Giuliano e la bottega da Maiano, Atti del convegno internazionale, Fiesole 1991, Florence, 1994, 148-157. 23 base of the Medici Orpheus, was designed c. 1516 to replace the decorative colonna of the bronze David removed in 1495. The Orpheus pedestal was a politically eloquent elaboration that seems, with its abundance of Medici devices, animal forms and ancient ornaments to flaunt that imaginative licence which Horace’s Ars Poetica – a primary source for Orpheus itself - associated with both poetry and painting.110 As already noted, Bandinelli also used a partially figured base for the Hercules and Cacus, a marble group designed to stand beside, and stand up to Michelangelo’s David. It is perhaps significant for Bandinelli’s embrace of eloquent ornament that his father had been a goldsmith. Amongst other activities Michelangelo di Viviano had mounted jewels and hardstones in Lorenzo ‘il Magnifico’s antiquities collection, evaluating them for dispersal in 1495 and collaborated with Antonio di Salvi, Pollaiuolo’s pupil, on a silver cross for the Florentine Duomo.111 The liturgical pedestal: Riccio’s candelabrum At the risk of irritating the purist, I wish briefly to trace the sustained early Cinquecento appreciation of the rhetoric of height and decorative richness as signs of honour in relation to another ecclesiastical work, one that, in function and imagery, can be read as a kind of super-base (fig. 11). The giant bronze Paschal candelabrum made by Andrea Briosco ‘Il Riccio’ for the Santo in Padua in some respects extends the legacy of Donatello’s bronze sculpture in the city, but it also presents an extraordinary renewal of the pedestal as a ‘cultic’ form in direct dialogue with beliefs about ancient ritual practice. Designed to support the great Easter candle, Riccio’s bronze is unusual for a candelabrum in that, reaching nearly four metres in height, it does not have integral feet but rests on its own, four-sided marble pedestal. This distinction effectively presents the candlestick itself as an honourable monument; yet it is one that is figured at every level as a support. The stacked structure and material richness of the candelabrum immediately recall the ornamental aesthetic of Filarete’s 1460s architectural designs for Sforzinda, referred to above, not least his description of a gilded bronze paschal candle for the cathedral which he describes as, like the ancient Temple of Solomon, ‘tanto ricco e con tanto ornamento’.112 The commission to Riccio from the Santo’s administrative élite, the Massari dell’Arca, in June 1507 specified the candelabrum’s height, materials (bronze, like those sculptures already decorating the choir of the Santo by Donatello, Bertoldo and Riccio himself) and that it was to be covered with stories, with freestanding figures at the corners and ‘honorevole’.113 The Paduan humanist who took immediate responsibility for the project, Giovanni Battista de 110 Karla Langedijk, ‘Baccio Bandinelli’s Orpheus: A Political Message’, Mitteilungen des Kunsthistorischen Institutes in Florenz, 20, 1976, 33-52; for changing applications of H orace’s view of poets and painters as possessing equal powers of inventive imagination see Norman E. Land, The Viewer as Poet: The Renaissance Response to Art, University Park, Pennsylvannia, 1994, 110-111. 111 See recently Laurie S. Fusco and Gino Corti, Lorenzo de’ Medici: Collector and Antiquarian, Cambridge University Press, 2006, 21, 136-7, 165-9, 346, 356-7, 369; Louis A. Waldman, Baccio Bandinelli and Art at the Medici Court. A Corpus of Early Modern Sources, Philadelphia, 2004, doc. nos. 17, 19, 25, 28-31 and 87, 96, 97 for the Duomo Cross. 112 The candelabrum is placed before the high altar between twelve marble candelabra (Filarete, ed. 1972, I p. 252). 113 Antonio Sartori, Documenti per la storia dell’arte a Padova, Vicenza, 1976, 199. The specifications for ornament were based on Riccio’s drawing: ‘secondo che ne ha demonstrato per uno disegno in carta, el quale starà apresso di me [Leone]...’. It was to cost a princely 600 ducats. The design was immediately approved by the Abbot of the Santo. 24 Leone, almost certainly supplied the work’s complex iconographic programme.114 The beautiful architectonic base, provided by Francesco di Cola and dated 1515, is itself nearly 1.5 metres high and is carved not with latin letters but what Alberti would have seen as the ‘universal’ language of images, in this instance antique vases and symbolic emblems in low relief.115 On the front facing the nave (fig. 11), a vas virtutum bears the Cross of salvation that is itself crowned with a vase of fire signifying, in a theological context, the immortal soul and the love of God that secures the soul’s redemption.116 The larger vessel is surrounded by arma christi appropriate to the liturgy of the Passion. Commenting in 1590 (Le religiose memorie) on the emblems on the base, which also include pagan sacrificial instruments, Valerio Polidori noted that they had much in common with hieroglyphs and were ‘very similar to the mysteries of the Egyptians’.117 Indeed, interpreted as allegories of the Church and of Christ’s Passion and victory, the marble reliefs underpinned the learned, synchretic representation of Christianity within the candelabrum as whole. The lost inscription beneath the base emphasised that the monumental candlestick could be seen as a pyramid (‘hanc pyramidem’), a form that was usually associated with a tomb function in the Renaissance.118 The ‘pyramid’ is hierarchically subdivided and the bronze part alone can be read as a series of honorary forms of diminishing scale piled one above the other. Within this cumulative rhetoric, each register serves as a pedestal for the next, and accordingly the majority have subjugated figures bound at each corner. These creatures may be read as the earth-bound ‘other’ to the transcendent imagery of liberation and victory found elsewhere on the monument. The lowest and largest tier with its four sphinxes and horned masks, unites features of the Roman funerary altar and the ancient candelabrum base with coped sides.119 114 See Blume, ‘Antike un Christentum’ at 100; Davide Banzato ‘Riccio’s Humanist Circle and the Paschal Candelabrum’ in Denise Allen and Peta Motture eds, Andrea Riccio. Renaissance Master of Bronze, exh. cat. Frick Collection New York, October 2008-January 2009, New York 2008, 39-63 and idem, ‘Il candelabro pasquale di Andrea Briosco: Note sulla storia, la committenza, la lettura, le derivazioni dall’Antico e da altre fonti figurative’ in eds. Bacchi and Giacomelli, Rinascimento e Passione per L’Antico, 97-119 esp. 105-6. 115 Alberti, De Re Aedificatoria, Book VIII, Chapter 4, f. 143r. ed. Orlandi and Portoghesi, II, 697. 116 The vase as vessel of virtue was familiar in relation to Marian liturgy, notably the Marian Antiphon Gaude virgo mater christi describing the Virgin as ‘splendens vas virtutum’. St. Anthony of Padua was also given this appellation in a ‘prose’ to be recited after the Gloria: ‘Vas virtutum, via morum / Victor fuit viciorum / Armis penitencie’ (Vase of virtue, way of good life / with the arms of penitence he conquered vice), see Jacques Cambell, ‘Le cult liturgique de Saint Antoine de Padoue’, Il Santo, 11, 1971, 3-70 at 37. Wind, Pagan Mysteries, 148 note 26 points out that the ‘vaso igneo’ in the late fifteenth-century Hypnerotomachia Poliphili signified ‘una participatione d’amore’. See also Guy de Tervarent, Attributs et symboles dans l’art profane, 1450-1600, Geneva, II, 1959, coll. 396ff for the vase as signifying the soul. For Polidoro’s early interpretation of the symbols of the marble base see Le religiose memorie, Venice, 1590, 13-14v. 117 Leo Planiscig, Andrea Riccio, Vienna, 1927, 246. 118 ‘Joannes Baptista de Leone philosophus hanc pyramidem faciendam curavit ex thesauro divi Antonii Andrea Crispo patavo sculptore primario anno Christi 1507 et Ludovicus ejus frater J.C. posuit anno 1515. Erat opus annorum 3 nisi Maximiliani atrocissimum bellum cum partibus venetis impedimento fuisset’ (Planiscig, Andrea Riccio, 244). For the understanding of the pyramid (often conflated with the obelisk) in the Renaissance see Brian Curran, The Egyptian Egyptian Renaissance: the Afterlife of Ancient Egypt in Early Modern Italy, Chicago and London, 2007, 67-72. 119 For the relation of the work as a whole to antique candelabra and for an analysis of its physical structure see Shelley Sturman, Simona Cristanetti, Debra Pincus, Karen Serres and Dylan Smith, ‘’Beautiful in form and execution’: the design and construction of Andrea Ricccio’s Paschal candlestick’, Burlington Magazine, 151, October 2009, pp. 666-672. 25 The next sub-section, with bound satyrs surmounted by griffins, is also architectonic and altar-like, but from this point onwards the bronze becomes round in section, culminating in a baluster standing on a drum. According a similar centrality to cultic paraphernalia, the complex and learned iconography of the superimposed bronze reliefs also extends upwards the themes of the marble base: virtue, sacrifice, spiritual wisdom and victory in the Christian era sub gratia,120 The largest figures, to whom the satyrs are subordinate, are Cardinal Virtues, but they appear in the guise of Roman matrons raised for admiration like statues on small, ornamented bases. Physically similar to reliefs of Victories surrounded by trophies as they appeared on Roman triumphal arches, they also carried a similar message.121 The largest fields, closest to the viewer include the Christ Child recognised by Gentile kings (Adoration of the Magi), the burial of Christ’s body, and his liberation of Adam and the worthy sub legis from Hell. In each of these readily recognisable narratives the protagonists are dressed all’antica, but it is with the fourth and last scene (fig. 12), without precedent in Christian iconography, that Christian liturgy is audaciously embedded in pagan religion.122 Instead of depicting the Resurrection, Christ appears with his wounds in the form of a freestanding statue in blessing: a triumphant bronze god on a tiered pedestal, at the centre of an ancient ritual of sacrifice. In front of the under life-size image, figures are gathered for the slaughter of a lamb at a small altar.123 The ritual setting is animated by musicians playing pipes, singers, torch bearers, a priest and a laurel-crowned figure with a patera. The scene thus comments on the sacrifice of Christ as agnus dei, reenacted in the Mass, and on his saving resurrection, without actually representing them. As both Saxl and Blume have noted, the triumphant figure of Christ as Saviour is instead paralleled with the greatest god of Olympus in the relief frieze immediately below, where Jupiter is shown driving away bestial beings in his chariot of war.124 In fact the precariously ‘pagan’ statue would have had an added claim to antiquity and authenticity for contemporaries since Riccio’s cult object refers in both scale and pose to a large bronze figure of the Resurrected Christ made in the Veneto around 1490. This, as Nagel and Wood have shown, was understood to recreate or, as they would have it, substitute for an ancient bronze figure of Christ referred to most influentially in the Golden Legend.125 120 See Banzato, ‘Riccio’s Humanist Circle’, 48 ff. and Bernardo Gonzati, La Basilica di S. Antonio di Padova, Padua, 1852, I, 142-3 for the relationship of the base to the bronze. 121 For similar Victory reliefs on pedestals, themselves imitating earlier roman examples and re-used in the Early Modern period as pedestals for sculpture see Richard Brilliant, ‘I piedistalli del giardino di Boboli: spolia in se, spolia in re’, Prospettiva, 31, 1982, pp. 2-17. 122 For the earlier, twelfth century, typological linking of Christ and the Old Testament tradition of sacrifice see A. Krueger and G. Runger, ‘Lifting the Veil: Two Typological diagrams in the Hortus Deliciarum’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 60, 1997, 1-22. 123 The relief effects, composition and costume of the scene is directly comparable to the marble of Marcus Aurelius sacrificing to Capitoline Jove, kept at the Palazzo dei Conservatori from 1515 (see H. Stuart Jones, A Catalogue of the Ancient Sculptures preserved in the Municipal Collection of Rome, Sculpture of the Palazzo dei Conservatori, Rome, 1926, (II), 22, Scala II, no. 4. 124 For Christ’s alignment with Jupiter see Fritz Saxl, ‘Pagan Sacrifice in the Renaissance’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Intitutes, 2, 1938, 346- 367 at 353; Dieter Blume, ‘Antike und Christentum’, in Beck and Blume, Natur und Antike, 84-129 at 105; for the frieze see F. Ragna Enking, ‘Andrea Riccio und seine Quelle’, Jahrbuch der Preussischen Kunstammlungen, 62, no. 3, 1941, 11-107 at 94; Banzato, ‘Il candelabro’, 110. 125 See Alexander Nagel and Christopher T. Wood, ‘Toward a New Model of Renaissance Anachronism’, The Art Bulletin, 87, no.3, 2005, 403-415 at 403-7. http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublication?journalCode=artbulletin 26 The axially placed statue of the resurrected Christ on a layered pedestal acts, I would argue, as a kind of mise-en-abyme within the work as a whole, providing a gloss on its symbolic meaning and on the ritual and votive character of the work. The candelabrum too was originally placed, not to one side as now, but at the centre of the choir and was animated, like the sacrifice scene, as part of a ceremony of light within the basilica. To appreciate the efficacy of the bronze’s pedestal function and its imagery one must re-imagine its role in the liturgy of the Easter Vigil. In this still active ritual, light from the ‘new fire’ representing the Lumen Christi of the Resurrected Christ was brought into the church, darkened after Good Friday, and hailed by the congregation as it is was processed to the east end. There the Paschal candle (at Padua already standing on the candlestick and reachable by temporary steps) was blessed and the deacon began the proclamation known as the Exultet, an injunction to rejoice at Christ’s victory over death. In the middle of the proclamation the deacon paused to stick five grains of incense, representing Christ’s wounds, into the wax. The Exultet represents this act as a sacrifice to God and the action turns the Paschal candle itself into a surrogate for the resurrected body of Christ.126 The twelfth-century theologian Honorius of Autun, indeed, explained the allegorical meaning of the candle in just these terms: its wax signifying Christ’s humanity, its wick his immortality and its flame his divinity.127 Finally, at the statement ‘Now also we know the praises of this pillar, which the shining fire enkindles to the honour of God’, the candle was lit and, in a powerful gesture of expanding radiance from the sanctuary, other candles around the church would be lit from the Paschal flame. Until its displacement to the Gospel side in 1593, the Paduan candlestick, set axially in relation to the high altar, reinforced the relationship between the candle, the body of Christ and the sacrifice of the Mass.128 Viewed simultaneously as an ornamento of the high altar, as well as of the Santo and even the city, its success at its installation (long delayed by war) was resounding and immediate, with praise offered for the beauty and honour it brought to Padua.129 The fact that it was the tallest work of its kind in northern Italy, even when compared with that of San Marco in Venice, is indicative of the monumental and implicitly competitive rôle it was designed to perform. Patriotism was served by the medium as well as by the exceptional fusion of pagan forms and practices and Christian content in the Paschal candelabrum, a fusion extremely suggestive of humanist interests in the Veneto-Paduan milieu of the later fifteenth and early sixteenth century. The special part played there by bronzes in evaluating and instrumentalising the legacy of antiquity is well known.130 But the extravagant ambition of 126 The liturgy for the Easter Vigil, in its early twentieth century form is described in Adrian Fortescue and J.B. Connell, The Ceremonies of the Roman Rite Described, fourth ed. London 1932, 336-345. See also for its slightly changing forms and origins Archdale A. King, Liturgy of the Roman Church, London, New York and Toronto, 1957, 194-6 and 414-419 and La semaine Sainte dans la Chapelle Pontificale, Rome, 1834, 61-64 for this ceremony in its particular form in the Sistine chapel. 127 Diane Zervas, Orsanmichele a Firenze/ Orsanmichele Florence,,Florence 1996, I, 116, note 129, Honorius of Autun, De divinis officiis, PL, 172, col. 649, an exegesis also found in Johannes Belethus. 128 Gonzati, La Basilica, I, 143 for the moving of the candlestick and its changed relationship to the marble base. 129 The original installation of 1516 took place on the eve of Epiphany, enabling the candelabrum to register as an offering of thanks to God in a time of renewed peace. Sartori, Documenti, 200 for the Santo records documenting this and praising the work. 130 Sandra Faccini, (‘Ecchi e traggressioni dell’antico nella scultura padovano in rapporto all mediazione veneziana. Un ipotesi di ricerca per un capitolo di storia dell’arte veneta’ in Venezia e 27 Riccio’s bronze as a type of pedestal all’antica is, I think, also paralleled in relation to a different monument of humanist culture, a work of literary fiction. As Planiscig first recognised, the pyramidal form of Riccio’s candelabrum was anticipated in the golden Obelisk of the Triune God described and illustrated in the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili, a vernacular romance published in Venice 1499 and attributed to the Venetian Dominican humanist Francesco Colonna (1433-1527).131 This highly original, not to say peculiar, composition, devotes large part of its ekphrastic display to detailed descriptions of imaginary ancient monuments and objects that, made to perform in various ways, overwhelm the perceptions of the dreamer, Poliphilo.132 The Hypnerotomachia offers insight into the more arcane aspects of enthusiasm for an imaginary antiquity in the Veneto, of which the candlestick is a superlative product. It also suggests the way such a richly crafted work as the candelabrum could be embedded in a number of ritual frameworks, real, but also rhetorical and imagined, such that it could be appreciated as at once functional, monumental, ancient, didactic, symbolic, curious and sensually stimulating. Antiquity on a pedestal: the ‘Idolino’ The ability to re-interpret the legacy of antique art and re-animate it is, as we have seen, a key component in the presentation of sculpture already much earlier in the fifteenth century. Genuine ancient marbles and bronzes, including non-figural works, were increasingly also restored and given supports by modern craftsmen for aristocratic or patrician collectors. Such re-orderings of the ancient fragment, sometimes accompanied by general restoration work, collectively known as ‘acconciatura’, was frequently the preserve of those credited with expertise in things antique - sculptors and goldsmiths such as Andrea del Verrocchio or ‘Antico’.133 Thus the presentation of objects made by a different hand, while implicitly an act of completion and tribute, was no humble undertaking but a work of interpretation, often helping to fix a specific meaning.134 One of the most impressive examples of this function vis-à-vis an ancient sculpture in the Renaissance is another north Italian work, the very large bronze pedestal commissioned to support the nude youth that came later to be known as the ‘Idolino’ (now Museo Archeologico Nazionale, Florence, inv. no. 1637) (fig. 13).135 The circumstances affecting l’archeologia. Atti del convegno internazionale, Venice 1988, Rome, 1990, 184-7) argues for a greater freedom and expressiveness relative to Venice in Paduan interpretations of the repertory of the antique. For the tradition of bronze art in Padua see Davide Banzato, ‘Da Donatello a Tiziano Aspetti. Centocinquant’anni di scultura in bronzo a Padova’ in Donatello e il suo tempo. Il bronzetto a Padova nel Quattrocento e Cinquecento, exh, cat. Palazzo della Ragione, Padua, 2001, Milan, 2001, 17-37. 131 Planiscig, Andrea Riccio, 247. For the Hypnerotomachia Poliphili and the identity of Colonna see Maria T. Casella and Giovanni. Pozzi, Francesco Colonna. Biografia e opere, 2 vols. Padua 1959; Giovanni Pozzi and G. Gianella, ‘Scienza antiquaria e letteratura. Il Feliciano. Il Colonna’, Storia della cultura veneta,3, 1, Vicenza, 1980, 459-477; Fortini Brown, Venice and Antiquity, 207-222; Curran, Egyptian Renaissance, 133-158. 132 Colonna’s description of the ancient objects encountered by Poliphilo in his dream start from the base and work up so that the accumulation of superlatives, use of terms from the Greek and neologisms become a verbal equivalent not only to the all’antica forms described, but to the pervasive visual and material excess they represent. 133 Luke Syson and Dora Thornton, Objects of Virtue: Art in Renaissance Italy, London, 2001, 126- 128; Arnold Nesselrath, ‘Antico and Monte Cavallo’, Burlington Magasine, 124, no. 951, 1982, 353- 357. 134 Barkan, Unearthing, 176-187 135 Reinhard Kekulé, Über die Bronzestatue die sogennanten Idolino, Berlin, 1889; Haskell and Penny, Taste and the Antique, no. 50, 240-41 for an account of its collection history and changing 28 the appearance of this pedestal, with its extensive animal ornaments and leaf-framed relief fields are not widely known and require some setting up. The life-size bronze boy it was made for was unearthed in Pesaro in October 1530. Generally now considered Augustan, it may initially have functioned as a lamp holder, but the work had a more prestigious Renaissance incarnation.136 Immediately presented to Francesco Maria I della Rovere, Duke of Urbino it was restored for display shortly before his death (1537-8) as an ideal example of an ancient Greek statua and ultimately installed at the Duke’s nearby locus amoenus, the magnificent extension to the Villa Imperiale.137 This site, an imaginative rethinking of the villa models of both Bramante’s Belvedere and Raphael’s Villa Madama in Rome, was designed by Girolamo Genga largely, it seems, at the behest of Eleonora Gonzaga (1494-1570) who wanted it as a ‘gift’ for her husband.138 According to a fragmentary biography of Francesco Maria I della Rovere, the bronze youth was placed in the ‘Sala scoverta’ or ‘uncovered room’. This was, in fact, the large sunken courtyard of the villa extension.139 Completed about 1538, this impressive space was constructed, according to its frieze inscription, as a place of repose between the Duke’s military labours.140 This is surely a significant interpretative context in which one can resituate the sculpture and its Renaissance base. Dominated by an architectural façade to the north with a central grotto and fountains, behind which hidden steps lead up to two garden terraces, the arrangement of the ‘sala’ is so theatrical as to have suggested to some a place of performance, though it identity; Mario Iozzo ed. ‘…Qual era tutto rotto’. L’enigma dell’idolino di Pesaro. Indagini per un restauro, Florence, Museo Archeologico Nazionale 15 Dec. 1998 – 14 February 1999, esp. Mario Iozzo, ‘La base dell’Idolino’ 29-31, Luigi Beschi, ‘L’idolino: storia, critica, fortuna’, 7-19 which follows and slightly enlarges on his catalogue entry ‘L’Idolino di Pesaro’, in Maria Grazia Ciardi Dupré Dal Poggetto and Paolo Dal Poggetto, Urbino e le Marche prima e dopo Raffaello, exhib. cat. Palazzo Ducale, Urbino, Florence, 1983, 398-405; Mauro Cristofani, ‘Per una storia del collezionismo archeologico nella Toscana granducale, I, I grandi bronzi’, Prospettiva, 17, 1979, 4-15 at 4-5 for the sculpture’s history in the Medici Granducal collection. 136 Andreas Rumpf, ‘Der Idolino’, Critica d’Arte, 19-20, 1939, 17-27. 137 The restoration was undertaken by Genga’s brother-in-law Giovan Battista Belluzzi called ‘Il Sammarino’ and his son Bartolommeo. The former’s diary (Diari, (1535-41) ed. cons. 1907, 78) says it was commissioned in 1537 and would therefore have been completed after Francesco Maria I’s death. 138 For the villa and its novel programme see Antonio Pinelli and Orietta Rossi, Genga architetto: aspetti della cultura urbinate del primo 500, Rome,1971, 137-155; Luciana Finelli, ‘Villa Imperiale a Pesaro. Spazi inaccessibili attorno al giardino’, 2/Venti complessi edilizi italiani, Turn, 1985, 215-232; Sabine Eiche, ‘I Della Rovere mecenati dell’architettura’, in Pesaro nell’età dei Della Rovere, III, 1, Venice, 1998, 231-264 at 235-242; Luciana Miotto, ‘Rapporto fra villa e teatro nell’Imperiale di Girolamo Genga’ in I Della Rovere nell’italia dell corti, II, Luoghi e opere d’arte, Urbino, 2002, 27-47; Catherine King, ‘Architecture, Gender and Politics: the Villa Imperiale at Pesaro’, Art History, 29, no. 5, 2006, 796-826. Vasari (Le vite, ed. Milanesi,VI, 319) refers to the painted decoration of the villa as well as to its courtyards, loggias, fountains and gardens, which attracted many illustrious visitors; he does not refer to the statue. 139 Eiche, ‘I Della Rovere’, 244. ‘…e il piedistallo sopra il quale al Palagio Imperiale nella sala scoverta pose di Baccho il getto antiquo e amirando, può testificare ancho il piacer che egli haveva della scultura, intaglio e del getto’ [Biblioteca Vaticana, Ms. Vat. Urb. Lat. 1037, f. 217] cited by Georg Gronau (Documenti artistici urbinati, Florence 1936, at 17-18 ). See also Cristina Frulli, in Ciardi Dupré Dal Poggetto and Dal Poggetto, Urbino e le Marche, 408. 140 For the frieze inscription by Pietro Bembo see King, ‘Architecture’ 798. 29 not clear that it was ever actually used in this way.141 The ‘Idolino’, with his demonstrative gesture and speaking pedestal, was certainly a prime actor there and one who might have obstructed any temporary staging, given his axial placement facing towards the deep colonnaded atrium to the south. The figure appears there, seen from behind, in Francisco de Hollanda’s view of the Villa from the north.142 (fig. 14) Hollanda’s drawing seems to show a high cyclindrical base with swags, perhaps an antique funerary urn, on a low, square socle or step, and it may be that this early view was taken before the provision of the bronze pedestal, though it may simply be an inaccurate rendering of the latter. What the drawing certainly clarifies is one motivation for the bronze base’s monumentality at 146 cm high by c. 84 cm square; only on such a scale could it establish the small statue’s visual significance within a courtyard some 15 metres deep and 30 metres wide. There is no record of who designed and cast the pedestal, nor any modern consensus as to its date or attribution. On stylistic grounds, a Venetian workshop seems likely, and Middeldorf’s attribution to the Venetian-trained Recanati firm of bronze casters Girolamo, Aurelio and Lodovico Lombardo, has recommended itself to a number of scholars on grounds of locality and on stylistic comparisons. These can be drawn, above all, with the vine-clad sacrament tabernacle bearing all’antica reliefs in Milan cathedral (1559-60), though an earlier date for the pedestal - closer to that of the statue’s restoration and perhaps not many years after Francesco Maria I’s death in 1538 - is preferable.143 Mancini, reporting in 1531on the excavation of the figure, mentions the earlier discovery on the same property of a granite panther, a beast associated with bacchic triumph. Together with the two bronze vine branches that accompanied the statue (and that are apparently held by the figure in Hollanda’s drawing), these provided the archaeological ‘evidence’ for the identification of the god. The pedestal was clearly commissioned not 141 For the fragmentary evidence of ‘theatrical’ events sponsored by Francesco Maria I Della Rovere at Pesaro see Guido Arbizzoni, ‘La ‘Magnificentia’ del principe, la festa e la città’, in Pesaro nell’età dei Della Rovere, Venice, 2001 (Historica Pisaurensia.. Collana di Studi diretta da Scevola Mariotti, Vol. III,.2), 403-427 at 406-8. For the use of a similar courtyard at Rome for secular events see John Shearman, ‘A Functional Interpretation of Villa Madama, Römisches Jahrbuch fur Kunstgeschichte, 20, 1983, 315-327; for the possibility of theatrical performances see Eiche, ‘I Della Rovere’, 244 and Miotto, ‘Rapporto’. For the gardens see Franco Panzini in ‘Giardini rovereschi nella Pesaro del Cinquecento’, in Pesaro nell’età dei Della Rovere, III, 1, at 269-272). 142 Hollanda’s sketchbook now in the Monastery library of the Escorial is reproduced in Jorge Segurado, Francisco d’Ollanda. Da sua vida e obras. Arquitecto da Renascença ao Serviço de D. João III, Pintor, Desenhador. Escritor, Humanista, ‘Fac-simile’ da carta a Miguel Ãngel – 1553 e dos seusTratados sobre Lisboa e Desnho – 1571, Lisbon, 1970, 61, fig, 20. 143 In a letter of Francesco Maria II della Rovere donating both statue and pedestal to the Granduke of Tuscany, the pedestal is described as having been made for the former’s father (Guidobaldo della Rovere), see Gronau, Documenti artistici, 18, but the letter, that mistakenly also says the statue was found under Guidobaldo, may be unreliable. For the attribution to the joint Lombardi workshop see Ulrich Middeldorf, ‘Notes on Italian Bronzes (III), Girolamo, Aurelio and Lodovico Lombardo and the Base of the ‘Idolino’’, Burlington Magazine, 73, no. 429, 1938, 251-7. Francis Haskell and Nicholas Penny, (Taste and the Antique, 240) accept Middeldorf’s attribution, as does Jeremy Warren (‘Bronzes in the Werner Collection’, Apollo, 155, May 2002, 25 and note 30) and the attribution to Girolamo Lombardo is proposed by Cristina Frulli, (‘Girolamo Lombardo (attr.). La base dell’Idolino’, cat. no. 114 in Ciardi Dupré Dal Poggetto and Dal Poggetto, Urbino e le Marche, 406-8) citing Girolamo’s connection with Jacopo Sansovino in Venice in the late 30s and early 40s. She prefers a date in the 1540s. An engraving after the reliefs is in F. Gregori and Thomas Patch, La porta principale del Battistero di Firenze, Florence, 1773 (as by Ghiberti). The pedestal and its provenance is first discussed at length in G. Bencivenni Pelli, Saggio historico della R. Galleria di Firenze, II, Florence, 1779, 177. 30 only to present the freestanding figure as a major work of Greek sculpture, appropriate to a grandiose, classicising setting, but, like the sala scoverta itself, but to show-case the wealth, learning and culture of its latter-day owners. Through words and images, the pedestal stabilised the prestigious identification of the bronze more precisely as an early cult object, an idol, through association with the Temple of Apollo at Delphi. On the front of the pedestal are symmetrically inscribed the words: ‘ut potui huc/ veni / delphis et /fratre re/licto‘ ‘As [soon as] I was able I came here having left behind Delphi and my brother [Phoebus]’ The pedestal form is basically architectonic but with a smaller transitional socle area beneath the statue itself and with decorative paraphernalia inventively adapted from that of funerary altars. These include goat’s head protomes, here supporting (bacchic) ivy garlands, double- headed vessels issuing entwined snakes and what appear to be aquatic ‘panthers’ at the lower corners. This ornamental vocabulary thus stongly reinforces the cultic quality of the pedestal as an ‘alta ara’ (altar). The whole is raised on a deep socle bearing a prominent wave pattern echoing the panthers’ tails, a feature that, together with the borders of vines and ivy leaves, further supports the idea that the pedestal was designed in the knowledge of the sculpture’s rhetorical placement as well as its general setting, before a garden and water feature. The very prominent inscription, like that of the courtyard and façade of the villa, was composed by no less than Pietro Bembo, the unrivalled scholar of Greek and antiquarian (friend of de Leone), who like many humanists learned his epigraphic skill from studying, among other things, ancient funerary urns.144 In a letter of 28 July 1533 to the Venetian ambassador, Conte Giovan Jacopo Leonardi, Bembo suggested the pedestal should read: “Ut potui huc veni Phebo Delphisque relictis” (‘As [soon as] I was able I came here having left behind Phoebus and Delphi’) with the further explanation that ‘Bacchus was worshipped in antiquity in Delphi, together with Apollo’.145. As Iozzo has argued, the inscription, slightly adjusted on the pedestal, refers to the cult of Dionysos at the sanctuary of Apollo at Delphi – a sanctuary which Plutarch (De E apud Delphos, 9, E 388) claimed also belonged to Phoebus’ half brother Dionysus, to whom it was entrusted in the winter months.146 Thus, for the initiated, the inscription spoke to the function of the new part of the Pesaro villa as a summer residence symbolically associated with bucolic retreat.147 The lack of any inscription on the back face is probably due to its position, since the courtyard’s mise-en-scene privileged the frontal view with the triumphal architecture forming an appropriate backdrop. Rather than dionysiac revels, the side panels contain two elegantly composed scenes (30 x 44 cm) from which the god himself is absent. These beautifully chased works, modulating between very low and high relief, can be understood as 144 For Bembo as a collector as well as composer of epigraphic inscriptions, see esp. Guilio Bodon, Veneranda Antiquitas: Studi sull’eredità dell’antico nella Rinascenza veneta, Bern et al 2005, 49-67. He was more directly involved in restoring another bronze work, brought from Rhodes, in the Venetian Martini collection. This was the so-called ‘Berlin Adorante’, see Giulio Bordon, Enea Vico fra memoria e miraggio della classicità, Rome,1997, 118 and 168; Irene Favaretto, Arte antica e cultura antiquaria nelle collezioni venete al tempo della Serenissima, Rome, 1990, 105 and 125-6. 145 Frulli, ‘Girolamo Lombardo’, 406. 146 Iozzo,’Il base’. 147 For the villa as summer residence: Pinelli and Rossi, Genga architetto, 138. Miotto (‘Rapporto’, 28 – 30) argues that the Villa Imperiale was built specifically as the summer wing of a double residence, of which the old Villa Sforza was the winter residence. 31 completed by the ‘triumphant’ figure of the bronze statua above.148 That to the left (fig. 15) constitutes an highly unusual ‘Triumph of Ariadne’.149 Bacchus’s mortal bride, holding a staff, is borne in a panther-drawn biga accompanied by beautifully muscled satyrs, and crowned with the bacchic vine by a nymph, much as a victor in a Roman triumph.150 The pose of the victrix, and the nearest panther are especially close to a grisaille fresco in the Sala della Calunnia of the adjacent old wing of the villa showing the ‘Triumph of a goddess’ in a lion- drawn chariot.151 The episode, associated both with Bacchus’s nuptials and his victorious return from Indian conquests was appropriate both to Della Rovere’s role as a military captain and the inscription of the Villa as his wife’s gift. The second, equally dynamic, side panel shows a nymph or priestess pouring a libation over a burning tripod altar to which a reluctant sacrificial goat is dragged by a man in phrygian dress (fig. 16). Those familiar with Greek literature might have known that it was from the phrygians that Bacchus adopted his religious rites.152 Certainly it this scene - whose imagery may derive from a Latin source, Virgil’s Georgics in which the sacrifice of the he-goat to Bacchus is described – that constructs the bronze statua as a cult image of Dionysus.153 The relief thus affirms the implication of Bembo’s inscription that the god has issued directly from his temple at Delphi. He appears during those summer months when Phoebus/Apollo, according to legend, had returned to Delphi from Hyperborea. In both scenes, unusual prominence is given to the female protagonist. Though at one level she is evidently subordinate, an explanatory support to the main actor, it is conceivable that the active role of Ariadne in the Triumph was intended as an oblique tribute to Eleonora Gonzaga, who resided at Pesaro during the summer, often in her husband’s absence. The highly cultivated daughter of Isabella d’Este, Eleonora was a major protagonist in the 148 The pedestals is assembled from four large sections of hollow, four-sided mouldings, divided by the four side panels, with just the triumph relief let in separately. 149 My thanks to Jeremy Warren for discussing the pedestal’s attribution with me and for pointing out the version of the relief in the Ashmolean Museum, Oxford (see Nicholas Penny, Catalogue of European Sculpture in the Ashmolean Museum. 1540 to the Present Day, I, Italian, Oxford, 1992, cat. no. 55, 73-4, also detailing later copies in other media). 150 A panel in the Pinacoteca of Gubbio attributed to Matteo Balducci (first half of the sixteenth century) and adapted from a sarcophagus relief apparently also shows Ariadne without Bacchus on the chariot, though the figure is androgynous. Since Gubbio was a Della Rovere possession it could conceivably bear some patronal relation to the Pesaro bronze. See Paul Schubring, Cassoni: Truhen und Truhenbilder der italienischen Frührenaissance: ein Beitrag zur Profanmalerei im Quattrocento, Leipzig, 1915-1923, no. 518, Vol.1, 344 and pl. CXX, incorrectly identifying Silenus as Bacchus. 151 It may derive either from it or a common source. Paolo Dal Poggetto, ‘La diffusione del verbo raffaellesco: la Villa Imperiale; l’attività di Raffaellino del Colle’, Pesaro nell’età dei Della Rovere, III, 2, Venice, 2001 203-245 at 215-6, draws the comparison, incorrectly referring to the pedestal scene as the Triumph of Diana. Angela Scilimati, (‘Valore, virtù, amore. Storia di una corte rinascimentale nella Villa Imperiale di Pesaro’, in Paolo Dal Poggetto ed., I Della Rovere, Piero della Francesca, Raffaello, Tiziano, exh. cat..,Milan, 2004, 143-148) argues that the grisaille scene shows the goddess Isis in triumph. 152 For a summary of some of the Latin and above all Greek sources on the triumphs and cult of Dionysos known in the earlier Renaissance see Phyllis P. Bober, ‘Appropriation Contexts: Décor, Furor Bacchicus, Convivium’, in eds.Alina Payne, Ann Kuttner, Rebekah Smick eds, Antiquity and its Interpreters, Cambridge, 2000, 229-243 at 231-232. 153 Virgil, Georgics, Book II, 393-395 ‘ergo rite suum Baccho dicemus honorem….et ductus cornu stabit sacer hircus ad aram’. 32 extension and re-modelling of the villa while Francesco Maria was on campaign.154 Though clearly not acting in isolation, Eleonora was rhetorically given credit for the Villa Nuova in Bembo’s inscription over the south façade of the villa and, as Scilimati has argued, she was implicitly accorded a parallel tribute to her husband in the mythological cycle of grisailles adorning the aforementioned Sala della Calunnia.155 The tailor-made base of the ‘Idolino’, which remained with the sculpture when it was given to Ferdinand II de’ Medici by Francesco Maria II della Rovere in 1630, is not only richly classicising, it is exceptional for its magnificent material and adaptation to its physical and rhetorical setting. Rather than referring directly to its Renaissance owners, however, the pedestal produces an eloquent cultic significance for an ancient bronze, and, being made of bronze itself and inscribed in Latin, effectively substituted as an antique itself. The inscription, written as speech, gives direct agency to the god as one who has arrived post haste from his Grecian temple. Though released from duty he is still, like the Della Rovere rulers, triumphant, and ‘peace-bringing’.156 Indeed, Bacchus could have been seen here as an appropriate figure for the off-duty military leader following the construction of the god in just these terms in the historical writing of Diodorus Siculus.157 The imagery of the base must, therefore, have been devised with the help of someone familiar with the scenography of the Villa Imperiale and with the Della Rovere agenda. While the bacchic subject and pagan imagery of transformation and sacrifice addressed to an élite audience are perfectly attuned to the ethos of a villa all’antica, its propriety is striking: the bacchantes’ snake ornament is, for example, discreetly absorbed into the image of a cult vessel.158 In the learned address of the base we are reminded of the cultural milieu evoked by Castiglione’s Calandria, performed for Francesco Maria I Della Rovere at Urbino in 1513, to which Miotto and others have alluded, but also of Jacopo Sadoleto’s platonic dialogue Phaedrus. 159 This, elegant dispute between the values of philosophy and rhetoric was fictively located in the convivial surroundings of Jacopo Galli’s suburban villa, home of Michelangelo’s drunken Bacchus.160 Here the resemblance in setting ends however, for as we know from Heemskerck’s drawings of the early 1530s, the Galli garden was, like Michelangelo’s drunken god, a far less ordered affair. In addition to the Bacchus placed on cylindrical socle, perhaps a reused column section, a motley collection of ancient works included a reclining nymph on a platform raised, idol-like, on a small column (fig. 17). While some collectors were keen to order and mark 154 ‘Francischo Mariae Duci Metaurensium a bellis redeunti Leonora uxor animi eius causa villa exaedificavit (Gronau, Documenti artistici, 9). 155 Scilimati, ‘Valore, virtù, amore’. 156 Bober (‘Appropriation’, 233) refers to Horace’s second Epistle for these aspects of Bacchus in his manifestation as Liber Pater. 157 Diodorus Siculus, Bibliotheca historica, III, 64, 65, 72. See Michaela Marek’s argument for the relevance of Diodorus’ writings for the conception of Bacchus as a god of military triumph and peace- bringer in relation to the themes of Alfonso D’Este’s camerino (Ekphrasis und Herrscherallegorie. Antike Bildbeschreibung bei Tiziano und Leonardo, Worms, 1985, 63-9). 158 In Nonnus’ Dionysiaca (9, 257-260) the bacchante Ino, who brought Dionysos’ rites to Delphi who, takes, in desperation, the snake coiled around the tripod there and wreathed it into her hair. 159 Miotto, ‘Rapporto’, 35-7. 160 Wind, Pagan Mysteries, Chapter XII, esp. 183-4. See also Bober, ‘Appropriation’ for the figure of Bacchus in humanist discourse and the antiquarian culture of collecting. 33 their sculptural trophies, clearly standards for the display of ancient statuary, even in the mid sixteenth century, were still in the making. This allowed the unruly, puzzling fragment to retain something of the incongruous allure that Roman objects described in the Mirabilia literature had done already in the Middle Ages.161 The Pesaro Bacchus by contrast is imaginatively brought to order and visibly given an illustrious past. The inhabited pedestal Literary descriptions of ancient works by Pliny the Elder or Pausanius communicated the votive function of ancient bases but rarely offered more specific testimony. In one case we are told, for example, that the pedestal of Phidias’ famous cryselephantine statue of Pallas at Athens was enriched with a story showing twenty ‘figures of newborn gods’ called the ‘Birth of Pandora’162 Pausanius (II, 27.2) describes an ivory and gold statue by Asklepios on whose supporting throne were carved heroic battles against the fearful and monstrous, amongst them Bellerophon fighting the Chimera and Perseus carrying off Medusa’s head.163 It is an iconic version of this latter encounter that is represented in Benvenuto Cellini’s great bronze for Cosimo I de’ Medici (18) and it may be no coincidence that Perseus’s pedestal, produced from about 1547 to 1554, also offers for it a myth of origin. With his father Zeus to the fore, the child Perseus beside his mother Danäe to the left (19), his protectress Pallas to the right and Mercury behind, a series of bronze figures in niches ornament the base in poses that are variants on the impressive theme of the principal figure. Below, and somewhat apart from the altar-like pedestal proper, carved in marble, is a further bronze element, the narrative relief showing a subsequent moment to the slaying of the Gorgon, the hero’s rescue of the chained Andromeda. As Cole has pointed out, it was, according to Ovid, as a postscript to this victory that Perseus built three altars and sacrificed to the gods Mercury, Jupiter and Pallas.164 A place of origin for the statue it supports, the pedestal, for those familiar with the Perseus legend from Ovid, also folds back into the Perseus’ myth as a site of dedication to the gods, whom Cellini shows as still invigorate in bronze, both objects/idols and beings. Evoking in a stylish all’antica visual language the original cultic function of bronze statuary, Cellini’s approach to the pedestal is also characteristically that of a goldsmith ‘setting’ a prized piece. As, arguably, the most ambitious pedestal of the entire sixteenth-century it embraces sculptural qualities at the expense of architectural ones and revives, if it in no way imitates, the kind of inventive design associated with Florentine Quattrocento goldsmiths, 161 For perceptions of antiquity from the Middle Ages see esp. Frugoni, ‘L’antichità’, 5-72. For the display of collections of antiquities in the Renaissance see, for example, Gesche, 1971; Claudio Franzoni, ‘’Rimembranze d’infinite cose’’. Le collezioni rinascimentali di antichità’, in ed. Settis cit., 299-360; Matthias Winner, Bernard Andreae and Carlo Pietrangeli eds., Il Cortile delle Statue. Der Statuenhof des Belvedere im Vatikan, Akten des internationalen Kongresses 1992, Mainz am Rhein 1998; Henning Wrede, ‘Antikenstudium und Antikenaufstellung in der Renaissance’, Kölner Jahrbuch, 26, 1993, 11-25; Kathleen Wren Christian, ‘The De’ Rossi Collection of Ancient Sculptures, Leo X and Raphael’, Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes, 65, 2002, 132-200; eadem, ‘From Ancestral Cults to Art:.The Santacroce Collection of Antiquities’, Annali della Scuola Normale Superiore di Pisa, ser. IV, 14, 2002, 255-272; eadem, ‘Instauratio and Pietas: The della Valle Collections of Ancient Sculpture’, in eds. Penny and Schmidt, Collecting, 33-65. 162 Pliny the Elder, Natural History, Chap. XXXVI, Bk. 4, 18 (eds. John Bostock, and Henry T. Riley). 163 Pausanius, Description of Greece, I, xxiv. 7, (tranl, W.H.S. Jones, London and Cambridge Mass, Vol. I, 1918) 164 Cole, Cellini, 68-9. 34 bronze casters and marble carvers such as Donatello, Antonio del Pollaiuolo or the Da Maiano brothers. By entering into a deliberate dialogue with the earlier sculptures of the piazza, the Perseus particularly invited comparison with another Medici bronze work, the Judith and Holofernes column, by then also situated under the Loggia de’ Lanzi. Though the pedestal itself is not as high as that of the Judith, it ingeniously integrates into, and borrows from, the height of the parapet in order to produce more elevated proportions. The marble panel framing the relief is superimposed over the Loggia wall and serves as a kind of historiated predella. Optically the relief registers as connected to the pedestal and gives the whole the appearance of a column. It has been convincingly argued that the reversal of the relations of vanquished to victor relative to the Judith effectively reinstated the patriarchal order; it has also been said that Perseus, holding aloft the head of the slain Gorgon, acted as a reminder of the power of the state to execute its enemies.165 Since Cosimo I had intended at the outset only a figure of Perseus, such a provocative implication cannot have been deliberate, but in the statue’s final form it was hard to avoid.166 Certainly the work was not, as its bronze ancestors were, being held up as an example to Florentine citizens. Instead it was intimately associated with the individual figure of the autocratic prince, Cosimo I, whose astrological sign of Capricorn was referred to in the protome ornaments of the pedestal. Cosimo too was official head of the Accademia Fiorentina, of which the composer of the elegant latin epigrams that give voice to the statuettes, Benedetto Varchi, was a leading light. The raising up of this embodiment of masculine potency reflected, for better or worse, directly onto Cosimo’s rule. While the pedestal seems, like the figure of Medusa, to represent another bid by Cellini to squeeze more out the commission than it had immediately afforded, his own identity is not directly alluded to on the base, rather his name appears prominently on the strap crossing the hero’s naked torso, imitating Michelangelo’s inscription on his only signed work, the Vatican Pietà, but making Cellini’s own agency explicitly heroic. In truth it is not as common as one might imagine even in this later period for the pedestal itself to advertise the name of the sculptor, as opposed to the donor. Among Cellini’s Florentine contemporaries it was above all Baccio Bandinelli, always anxious to present his work in competitive terms and adopt a socially elevated persona, who regularly appended his name to the socles of his monumental marbles including the Hercules and Cacus that looked disapprovingly across at the Perseus from the steps of the Palazzo Vecchio.167 Only considerably later, in Venice, did Alessandro Vittoria begin consistently and insistently to inscribe his name on the low integral socles of his sculptures both large and small.168 The immediate spur to this practice may well have come in Vittoria’s case from the example of Jacopo Sansovino but more broadly it is indebted to suppositions about antique practice, not least the misleading late antique inscriptions OPUS FIDIAE and OPUS PRAXITELIS on the structures supporting the marble Horse Tamers on the Quirinal in Rome. 165 Yael Even, ‘The Loggia dei Lanzi: A Showcase of Female Subjugation’, Women’s Art Journal, 12, 1991, 10-14. For the Perseus bronze as a despotic sign in the framework actual, political and rhetorical, of the ducal city see especially Breidecker, Florenz, 25-33. 166 Shearman (‚Art or Politics’) has argued rather for the Perseus’deliberate continuity with the republican ‚salus publica’ theme, yet knowledge of the forces now responsible for Florentine ‚public health’ must, as Shearman would have recognised, have radically effected the work’s reception. 167 Weil-Garris Brandt, ‘On Pedestals’, 405 for the significance of the inscription on the Hercules and Cacus, acutely noting that Bandinell’s name on the base ‘made Bandinelli a Medici surrogate’. 168 See Victoria Avery, ‘Alessandro Vittoria’s Socles: Shaping and Naming’, in ed. Gerstein, Display, 16-32 at 18 and 20-24. 35 Although Cellini gave the working of the marble over to two professional carvers, his agency is everywhere displayed in the pedestal by an overflow of visual wit. The inventions of grotesque ornaments especially invite interpretation as the product of Cellini’s own visual and verbal fantasia. Purposefully delighting and afrighting the viewer, night creatures, deeply undercut, frame the inscribed cartouches. Sunken-eyed death masks beltching hellish or sacrificial smoke crown the niches. Punning ‘pedes’ detached from their caryatid owners (whose Ephesian breast-plates are another kind of mask) emerge as a second base below the lower moulding. These motifs show a concern to vary but also elaborate the themes of the main group, not least those of horror, dismemberment, and excess. Employing the lurking imagery of death or mortification they also frame the superior ‘life’ both of the statue and the pedestal’s own sculpture gallery of bronzes, cast by Cellini himself.169 While Medusa’s contorted, scarcely-dead limbs spill over from the group above, Mercury, in fact, is poised to defy entirely the containment of his marble niche. The flight of Cellini’s fantasy, manifest as a knowing restaging of antique motifs, ornament and the inventive traditions of Florentine sculptors and goldsmiths, pushes beyond the boundaries of the pedestal. Here the sculptor’s own astrological deity is self- evidently Mercury.170 To move from Donatello’s Medici bronzes to Cellini’s Perseus of a century later is to trace a familiar arc in the history of freestanding statuary. In this article I have sought to bring into focus what such a Renaissance revival of bronze statuary, ‘rests on’, focussing on pedestals as characterising features that, because of their physical and ontological separateness from the main sculptural content, could gain a particular purchase on it. As ornamenti the substantial pedestals designed for bronzes almost always come ‘after’, both as furnishing and as elaboration. As such, they often escape the viewer’s conscious attention altogether. But high pedestals impacted enormously on the command of the statue over the viewer and closer attention to them highlights the increasingly eloquent ways that they enter into a dialogue with the objects they sustain. While occasionally at the centre of ritual practices, broadly defined, it is rather the pedestal’s appeal to an imaginative ritual setting that emerges as distinctive from the later fifteenth century, sometimes going as far as to provide an imagined before- and after-life for the principal figure. By evoking antique practice or even specifying a sacral context, the pedestal added value to the sculpture by enriching, or even forging, its status both as a presence and as a work of art. Nor does this staging as art in any way diminish the political functions or implications of freestanding statues, indeed the reverse. It is precisely in the honorific and ordering work given to the high pedestal that the triumphalist ideology of Italian Renaissance states appears at its most blatant and the related social anxiety to distinguish the privileged spectator is most clearly revealed. Word count: 14,657 169 In one of Agnolo Bronzino’s encomiastic poems, he addresses the statuettes of the base in terms that parallel the ‘burning love’ and sweet pain that generated the child Perseus to Cellini’s own pains of labour, see Cole, Cellini, 56-8. 170 The astrological tradition according to which inventors of all kinds, including goldsmiths and sculptors, were ‘children’ of Mercury is represented most famously in the fifteenth-century Mercury engraving from the series of the Planets attributed to Baccio Baldini. 
work_qtdvgcspnvce3jit2wo7iltcve	----	1 INFINITE SEQUENCES IN THE CONSTRUCTIVE GEOMETRY OF 10TH CENTURY HINDU TEMPLE SUPERSTRUCTURES Dr. Sambit Datta Senior Lecturer, Deakin University sdatta@deakin.edu.au From its early origins to the 10th century, the Hindu temple embodied a progressive elaboration of a simple formal schema based on a cuboidal sanctum and a solid form of distinctive curvature. The architectural form of the temple was the subject of wide experimentation, based on canonical sacred texts, within the regional schools of temple building in the Indian subcontinent. This paper investigates the practice of this knowledge in the constructive geometry of temple superstructures, with attention focused on the canonical rules for deriving the planar profile of a temple using a mandala (proportional grid) and the curvature of the sikhara (superstructure) using a rekha sutra (curve measure). This paper develops a mathematical formulation of the superstructure form and a detailed three-dimensional reconstruction of a tenth century superstructure, based upon computational reconstructions of canonical descriptions. Through these reconstructions, the paper provides a more complete explanation of the architectural thinking underlying superstructure form and temple ornamentation. Abstract Keywords: architectural geometry, hindu temples, mathematical sequences, digital reconstruction, Dr. Sambit Datta is a senior lecturer in the School of Architecture and Building at Deakin University, Australia. Dr. Datta’s work centres on the mediatory role of geometry in the relationship between formal and abstract ideas and their material realisation in architecture. Using computer-aided design tools, he investigates the geometric ideas that shaped the genesis and evolution of Indian Temple Architecture. His current research on Asian heritage sites, supported by the Australian Research Council, unravels the formal architectonic links between temple building traditions along the trade routes between South and Southeast Asia. He teaches courses in architectural geometry, parametric modelling and design, has been a visiting scholar at the Centre for New Media, UC Berkeley, and is a director of the architecture practice, Shunya. Dr. Datta studied architecture at CEPT University (India), completed postgraduate studies at NUS, Singapore and received his doctorate at the University of Adelaide, Australia. Author’s Bio mailto:sdatta@deakin.edu.au� 2 Construction and Canon in Temple Architecture From its early origins to the 10th century, the Brahmanic/Hindu tradition of temple construction created a rich legacy of temples spread across India and Southeast Asia (Chandra, 1975; Chihara, 1996). During its slow dispersion, the architectural form of the temple reflected ongoing constructive and philosophical experimentation based on canonical sacred texts. In particular, the evolution of the Hindu Cella embodied a progressive elaboration of this prototypical schema, using a sacred constructive geometry that conveyed the syncretic Upanishadic cosmology [Chandra, 1975; Kramrisch, 1946) . The morphology of the Nâgara (latina) temple and its development can be followed from the earliest extant cellae in the fifth century to entire thirteenth century complexes and temple cities across South and Southeast Asia. Figure 1. The basic formal scheme of a hindu temple. An example of a stone Latina temple (960 CE) from the Maha-Gurjara school of temple building, India. The superstructure exhibits a complex interplay of geometric and mathematical expression based on stereotomic principles of construction and surface articulation. While there are thousands of variations, essentially every temple in the Brahmanic/Hindu tradition can be understood through principles outlined in canonic Sanskrit texts (shastras) such as Mayamata and Agni Puranas (Kramrisch,1946). These texts provide sets of prescriptive rules that touch on all aspects of temple construction, from site selection, formal typology and location of sculptural elements, to ornamental details. The architectural elements described by such shastras are based on a number of geometric figures known as mandalas, and it is from these ritual and cosmic diagrams that temple plans and superstructure have been generated (Meister, 1979). 3 Table 1. Explanation of Sanskritic terminology and technical terms used in the paper. Studies of Indic temple geometry have demonstrated the correspondence of canonical descriptions of constructive geometry with the base plans of surviving monuments. However, as these temples were built in dynamic, ever-changing cultural, physical and sectarian contexts, the actual practice of this knowledge was the subject of wide experimentation over several centuries within regional schools of temple building (Meister, 1976; Meister, 1979; Hardy, 2002). Thus, while the shastras (canonical texts) may have been prescriptive, a multitude of interpretations and variations were possible within the canonical rules. Indeed, this ambiguous relationship between strict canon and subtle experimentation presents many challenges in relating the idealized geometry models to extant temples (Bafna, 2000). To understand the mathematical principles underpinning temple architecture, it is necessary to rigorously examine the geometries at play in the formal foundation of Indian temple architecture, the early Nagara cella. The formal schema of the cella comprises (Figure 1) the base (pitha), an inner sanctum (prasada) and, later, a superstructure of distinctive form (in particular the curvilinear sikhara of the northern Indian Nâgara tradition). The morphology of the Indian temple and its progressive geometric complexity can thus be followed from the earliest extant cellae in the fifth century to entire thirteenth century complexes and temple cities across India and Southeast Asia (Meister, 1976; Datta, 1993). Textual and graphic descriptions of two- and three-dimensional propositions governing the conception, composition and construction of temples are offered in the literature. The traditional study of Indian architecture is usually cast under the rubric of vastushastra or silpashastra. Vastushastra refers to the body of knowledge (shastra) dealing with habitable sites and the spirit of place. It is from this primary literature that ideas governing traditional architecture are drawn. Ancient writings on Vastushastra are spread through a diverse body of texts ranging from such philosophical texts as the Upanishads, to technical manuals encoding artisanal knowledge like the Brhat Samhita, Mansara, Mayamatam and Vastusutra Upanishad. Anga Part of the body Caturanga The subdivision of the ground plan into four offsets (catur is Sanskrit for four) Caturguna The subdivision of the vertical measure into four parts. Latina A term used to decribe the curvilinear profiles of Nagara superstructures Maha-Gurjara A regional school of temple building from Western India. Mulasutra Sanskritic term translated as root measure or base module. Nagara Sanskritic term describing a regional variant of Indian temple architecture Pitha The first course of the tiered base of the temple Prasada The central body of the temple. The term refers to a palace. Rekha Refers to a curved line Shastras Ancient texts dealing with codified knowledge Sikhara The superstructure of a Nagara temple Silpashastra Texts dealing with knowledge of the arts Sulbasutras Specific texts dealing with the ritual and geometry of Vedic fire altar construction. Also used in the layout of temple plans Upanishads Philosophical texts that constitute the core principles of Hindu thought Vastushastra The body of knowledge (shastra) dealing with habitable sites and the spirit of place 4 Varahamihira’s Brhatsamhita (Bhatt, 1981), a sixth century treatise on astrology and astronomy, offers valuable evidence on the use of mandala geometry for the layout of buildings (Meister, 1976). The Mansara (Acharya, 1980) is commonly held to be the most comprehensive and representative text on ancient Indian architecture. Dagens’ (1994) translation of Mayamatam and the Vastusutra Upanishad (Boner et al, 2000) provides summaries of this body of literature. Scholars have attributed the technical descriptions of constructive geometry to the various sulbasutras (Meister, 1979). While these ancient texts serve as a primary reference for temple scholars, secondary modern references (Kramrisch, 1946; Dhaky, 1961; Chandra, 1975) offer access to and interpretations of their ideas. Kramrisch (1946: 437-442) provides an accessible listing of traditional texts relevant to vastushastra. For a detailed examination of these and other texts, see Bafna’s (2000) discussion on the sources of evidence for temple architecture. The superstructures of latina temples have a distinctive curvilinear form composed of a series of motifs (Figure 1). The surface geometry of these shrines results from intricate mathematical and geometric expression based on stereotomic techniques (Kramrish, 1946; Meister, 1979). This paper investigates the practice of this knowledge in the constructive geometry of temple superstructures in the tenth century. Comparative analysis of Geometry: Discussion 5 Figure 2. 3D reconstruction of the Temple of Ranakdevi, Wadhwan. The superstructure geometry is modelled using the geometric progression for scaling and curvature of individual units. Computational modeling provides a robust methodology for researching the genesis and evolution of geometry in temple architecture. The fragmented discontinuity of textual accounts, lack of graphical representations and heavily eroded early remains make the process of establishing the lineage of formal continuity difficult. In this context, computation presents an attractive methodology for capturing, analyzing and comparing partial geometry models from textual and graphic descriptions and specific temple sites spread over time, geography and culture. For example, form models can be derived from data recovered from existing temples, two and three-dimensional idealized geometries can be reconstructed from textual canons (shastras) and these models can be analyzed and compared to yield new knowledge on the role of geometry in the genesis and evolution of temple architecture over time. This paper describes the computation of three distinct geometries in understanding the construction and conception of temple superstructure, as represented by the three dimensional reconstruction in Figure 2. First, a generic skeletal model of the superstructure using rule-based computation is generated (Figure 4). Second, detailed models of individual motif geometry from temples are recovered using close range photogrammetry, and a tiling procedure based on the sum of infinite sequences is described (Figure 5). Finally, the superstructure geometry is 6 developed by combining the first and second computations to generate a three-dimensional solid model of the surface geometry (Figure 6). The reconstructions present new possibilities for interpreting the formal and geometric basis of temple form, demonstrating how the computability of a global geometry can form the basis for comparative analyses of a multitude of temple superstructures that are derived from the same constructive canon. Further, the parametric variation of generated global models allows for a rapid evaluation of the geometric similarities and differences between multitudes of samples. The advantage of this process is that changes in any stage due to revision of assumptions or testing of alternatives can be easily propagated between the models. Further, since the models of the surface geometry are based on generic constructions, they can be easily transferred to other, similar forms such as related but different schools of temple building can be easily incorporated in any stage, whether due to revision of assumptions or the testing of alternatives. In placing a specific temple between its possible antecedents, the use of constructive geometry as a generator allows the study of the evolution of temple architecture form over time as a series of related instances of arising out of similar techniques. The application of this method to comparing the base and superstructure (Datta and Beynon, 2008). Superstructure Geometry Archetypal forms of superstructure can be computed from generic descriptions of geometric construction using rule-based generation. Textual and graphic descriptions of mathematical and geometric constructions described in the literature (Dhaky, 1961; Meister, 1979) are codified in the form of shape rules and constructive methods to generate classes of formal three-dimensional geometry corresponding to the two-dimensional canonical descriptions. The three-dimensional form of the superstructure is based on encoding two control profiles: the horizontal plan profile and a vertical curved profile (Figure 3). The derivations of the curved profile (rekhasutra) is based on Kramrisch’s (1946) interpretation of the canonical procedures for laying out curves. 7 Figure 3. Left: Surface geometry of the temple of Ranakdevi at Wadhwan with three offsets (four faces) showing the curvature. Middle: A generated example showing a base with three offsets, central axis and geometric envelopes of the central spine (offset). Right: Top view of a generated example showing the global model of the surface geometry. Horizontal and vertical control geometries of the surface are derived from textual (canonical) accounts in the temple literature. The horizontal profiles are computed using a set of shape rules derived from the literature on temple geometry (Meister, 1976; Meister, 1979; Meister, 1986). The vertical profile is based on descriptions (Kramrisch, 1946; Dhaky, 1961) provided in scholarly texts (explained in detail in the next section on curvature). The generation of geometric form with this technique allows a large class of profiles, and by extension superstructure forms to be explored. The global model is then subdivided into four component motifs, corresponding to the four faces (Figure 4). Each component motif is developed in detail using close-range architectural photogrammetry (Streilein et al, 1998; Debevec et al, 1996). Finally, the global surface is tiled with the detailed component motif models. The reconstruction approach developed by the author (Datta, 2001) comprises the following steps: • a global model of the superstructure using rule-based generation; • local models of motif geometry; • parametric tiling model combining the above. The computation of each of the above is described in the following sections using the surface geometry of the temple of Ranakdevi in Wadhwan (Figure 1) as an exemplar. 8 Figure 4. The superstructure geometry is controlled by two horizontal closed profiles in plan and an open curved profile in section. The horizontal profile (caturanga) is offset into four faces based on a proportionate subdivision of the ritual 8x8 grid (bottom). The rules for computing these profiles are described in the literature (Meister, 1979; Datta, 2001). The curve measure (caturguna) is derived by joining points of intersection in the vertical grid in the XZ-plane (top). The rekha (curve measure) is shown on the bhadra face of the superstructure. The top profile (skandha) is divided into 6 part parts and the bottom profile (caturguna) is 10 parts of the mulasutra (root measure). 9 The Ground Plan Embedded in the plan of most temples is a ritual grid diagram of 8 x 8 = 64 squares (mandala), prescribed for temple building in the Brhat Samhita (Bhatt, 1981) and later texts (Meister, 1976). This grid is used to generate the ground plan and control measure in the configuration of stone temples. For example, Meister (Meister, 1979) shows how the horizontal profile depends on the number of offsets (angas) and the proportional relationships between each offset are derived from the recursive subdivision of the sixty-four square grid. Based upon field measurements, the basic module (mulasutra) of the ritual grid is a=660mm. The horizontal profile has three offsets (four faces, caturanga) and these are sub-measures of the basic module – a, a/4, a/4 and a/6, respectively. The width of the offsets in terms of the basic module (mulasutra) are 5a/4, 7a/8, a/4 and 7a/4 respectively. Using these measurements, the plan profile of the temple may be computed (Figure 4). Description of Curvature The vertical profile is based on the extrusion of the profile of the ground plan in the vertical direction (Datta, 1993). The extrusion in the vertical direction is based on a curved profile (rekha), which establishes the degree of curvature of the superstructure and controls the overall geometry of the superstructure (Figure 3). Following Kramrisch (1946) and Dhaky (1961), Datta (1993) has developed a mathematical procedure to generate the curvature based on textual descriptions. This procedure is dependent on the height of the superstructure, the number of vertical units chosen for each offset and the choice of an integer (one of 3,4,5,7) for controlling the degree of curvature. In the example reconstruction used in this paper, the integer chosen is 4 (caturguna, or four-fold division). A detailed description of the derivation of curvature is provided by Datta (1993). In actuality, each offset has a different number of units, and hence a different rhythm. For simplicity, we treat the entire superstructure as a single unit (Figure 4). Following Kramrisch (1946), the rules for deriving the rekha are summarised as follows: If the base profile (ritual grid) is divided into ten parts, then the width of the top of the superstructure or skandha, is six parts, the height being given (multiple of mulasutra). This establishes the extent of the bottom and top profiles (Figure 4). If the integer chosen for the curve is 4 (caturguna), the height is H, and then the successive vertical divisions are: H/4, 1/4 (H - H/4), 1/4(H - 3H/4), up to n terms, where n is the number of units [11-13]. As described above and shown in Figure 3, the global geometry of the superstructure can thus be characterized by the following: • generating a horizontal base profile in the XY-plane based on rules for dimensioning the 8x8 grid and its proportionate subdivision into offsets; • generating a vertical curved profile based on rules for dimensioning a vertical grid in the XZ-plane and its proportionate subdivision into stone units. 10 This method of reconstruction is significant because of the state of decay of existing artifacts. As the profile creation process is computed from parametric rules based on canonical description, a large class of profiles, and by extension, superstructure geometry, can be explored. The advantage of this rule-based generation of profiles based on parameterized rules is that the same set of rules can be used to generate “best-fit” constructive models that correspond to field measurements and observations of surviving monuments. The rule based model generation process allows temple scholars to conjecture on the range of possible measures that may have been used to derive the ground plan and superstructure geometry of related monuments. Infinite sequences: A mathematical formulation Figure 5. Analysis: The corner geometry of the superstructure is subdivided into constituent units based on a series progression. A tiling function is used to scale each constituent unit in the series with self-similar motif geometry. Having established a computational method for the ground plan geometry and basic superstructure form, the detailed modeling of each of the facets and their geometry is described in his section. As discussed, the caturguna profile defines the generation of the lata portion of the sikhara while the critical profile in establishing the degree of curvature of the latas of a sikhara is the rekhasutra or curve measure(Figure 4). However, each lata (see temple surface in Figure 1) is made up of a sequence of scaled motifs. The surface of the superstructure is composed of a series of carved motifs that exhibit a progressively diminishing sequence of self-similar forms. While no guide exists in the canonical literature on how these sequences are handled, two clues are available in the mathematical and cosmological texts. First, the notion of shunyata (nothingness) and the infinitesimally small occupies a central place in the syncretic Upanishadic cosmology. Second, the preoccupation with and knowledge of shredhishektras (mathematical series) are evident in vedic mathematical texts. 11 A method for generating the latas based on the description of the derivation of the rekha (Kramrisch, 1946; Datta, 1994) is developed in this section. The bounding (skeletal) geometry of the corner offset (karna) is tiled with scaled copies of the unit of carving. The parametric surface is developed using the global model as a skeletal surface tiled with a sequence of scaled units using the local geometry of the motif (Figure 5). This forms the basis for the repetitive tiling of the surface using a scaling function based on the curve profile shown in Figure 4. The tiling procedure is dependent on the height of the sikhara and the number of vertical units chosen for each lata. In practice, each lata would have a different number of units, and hence a different rhythm. For simplicity, in this paper, we treat the entire superstructure as a monolithic unit. We can formalise this subdivision process as follows: Where R is the curve measure, H is the height of the superstructure. Although the problem of deriving the curvature may be solved by geometric construction, and certainly was solved in this way by the ancients, a more intriguing formulation is possible. To find out how the cella superstructure may represent a finite encoding of the infinite, we cast the height of the sikhara and the properties of the rekhasutra as a geometric sequence using the remainder subdivision algorithm (Eq 1). Further, we can define the problem as one of determining the height of the mth unit in a given progression of n terms using the height of the superstructure as the finite sum of an infinite geometric sequence. In the following sections, we convert the constructive steps into a summation series of an infinite sequence of terms. The first term of the progression is H/4, and the common ratio, r = 3/4. From the common ration of the series represented in Eq 2, we can generalize the derivation of a common ratio r, for a given R. To rationalise the subdivision of the sikhara height H, we use the common ratio r, which is independent of the height (Eq 3), and express the height H of the sikhara as the sum of n terms of a geometric progression. The sum of n units of a geometric progression, H being the height of the sikhara, a being the first term and r the common ratio, can be rewritten as, Rewriting (Eq 5), we can derive the first unit, if the number of terms, n and the common ration r are known. Finally, the height of the lata unit m can now be derived as the mth term of a geometric progression whose first term is a (Eq 6) and common ratio is r (Eq 3), 12 Using (Eq 7), we can determine the height of any unit given the rekha, number of units in a lata sequence and the height of the sikhara, all of which are specified in the canon. As described previously, the rekha, R is chosen from the set {3,4,5,7} and the common ratio of the progression r fixed from (Eq 3). The next step is to determine the number of units, n. Finally, (Eq 7) is used to assign the heights of each unit of the sequence. While the vertical height of each unit is fixed, the top of each unit is scaled by a uniform scale factor that is derived from the rekha construction. The mathematical generation of a caturguna sikhara, on a caturanga base is shown (Figure 6). Figure 6. A caturguna-caturanga superstructure generated to an arbitrarily large set of terms shows how the infinite sequence converges toward a limit. The tiling function is based on the sequential subdivision of the curved surface. The tiling geometry of the corner offset of the superstructure in this temple comprises 8 units. The first (lowest) unit, the last unit and the remaining 6 units follow in a series progression. The tiling corner spine is computed by recursive subdivision of the global geometry using this series formulation of the scaled motifs. The bounding box of each unit is computed from a set of parameters that control the global model such as the initial starting unit, number of units, scale factor and type of progression. These are then tiled within the enclosing geometry of the corner spine (Figure 4). This process rationalizes the degree of curvature derived from the rule-based curve generation into planar facets that approximate the curvature. Thus the explicit derivation of the curvature of the form as shown in Figure 4 is now replaced by a family of polygonal tiles related by a function of the underlying series mathematics. Using this mathematical formulation, it is now possible to derive the motif geometry directly from this model by a simple substitution rule that maps the bounding box of each unit to the specific geometric size of the tile shown in Figure 5. The resultant model gives the final superstructure geometry where each tile in the series is a self-similar scaled version of the motif model geometry (Figure 2). Conclusion 13 This research attempts to ‘read’ geometries embedded in temple remains through computational geometry, an approach that may be contrasted with Robin Evans’ theories on geometry in architectural making (Evans, 1995). In his work, Evans uses a series of translations to track the development of architectural form through projective geometry. The building-as-object is cast, through a series of drawings, to the finished product – a projection informed by how architecture develops through the translation of drawing into building, representation into actuality. The particular challenge of my research is the opposite, the translation of building through the geometric and proportional clues present in its surviving form back to its description. As Affleck and Kvan (2005) observe, the majority of virtual heritage projects attempt to create in the computer a realistic representation of their subject. This is an attempt not so much to recreate a temple form, but to uncover how its architecture was developed. By comparing its formal properties with models from which it may have been derived, advances in computation provide new ways to explore, analyze and explain the genesis and evolution of these historical artifacts. For example, in the temple superstructure example described here, the use of the ritual grid – well known in the layout of temple plans – was projected into the vertical plane to decipher the compositional structure of the superstructure, including the derivation of the curve measure. The use of series mathematics, well known from temple literature (Datta, 2001; Datta, 2005) was used to develop the tiling models. The complexities of the surface geometry could be explored and repetitive models obtained through generation and parameterization. The example demonstrates the above principles in the context of one type of tenth century superstructure, one that follows the profile of the offset in plan, and a curve in section. Thus, computation of spatial information plays a fundamental role in plotting any links between extant architectural remains and the principles of geometrical and architectural composition as presented in the texts. Representation of the building through the series of computed points is not only a device for aiding visualization but a deep description of its underlying geometry, a reverse analogue to the traits that Evans describes as the “instructional device” for the complex cutting of French renaissance stonework. Through a comparison of the relationships between cosmology, geometry and physical form using computational methods, in these early sites with both Indian and Southeast Asian models, it is intended that the generative role of geometry within the architectural historiography of Brahminic temples can be clarified and more fully developed. In brief, the computational approach described in this paper results in the creation of multiple partial three-dimensional models of superstructure geometry. It is envisaged that these models will be useful for supporting the comparative analysis of superstructure geometry of temples from related temple building traditions (e.g. within South and Southeast Asia); piecing together the genesis and evolution (over time) of the geometric experimentation within specific schools of temple building (e.g. Maha-Gurjara, Chandela, etc.); and explaining the complex and problematic linkages between canonical prescriptions of ideal form with the analysis of data recovered from surviving monuments. There is a broader question raised by this inquiry. Considering the philosophical and mathematical concepts revealed by this method of reconstruction, were ancient Hindu temple builders grappling with a method for encoding a notion of infinity through their use of geometric sequences? 14 Bibliography 1. Chandra, P. ed, Studies in Indian Temple Architecture 2. Daigoro Chihara, , American Institute of Indian Studies, Varanasi, 1975. Hindu Buddhist Architecture in Southeast Asia 3. Kramrisch, S., , E.J. Brill, Leiden, 1996. The Hindu Temple 4. Meister, M. W., “Construction and conception of mandapika shrines of central India.” , Vols 1 & 2. University of Calcutta, Calcutta, 1946. East and West, New Series 5. Meister, M., “Mandala and practice in Nagara architecture in northern India,” Journal of American Oriental Society, 1979, 99(2), 204–219. , 1976, 26, 409-418. 6. Hardy, A., “Sekhari Temples,” Artibus Asiae, 2002, 62 (1), 81-138. 7. Bafna, S., “On the idea of the Mandala as a governing device,” Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 2000, 59(1), 26-49. 8. Meister, M., “On the development of a morphology for a symbolic architecture: India,” Anthropology and Aesthetics, 1986, 12, 33-50. 9. Michell, G., The Hindu Temple: An Introduction to its Meaning and Forms 10. Dhaky, M., “The chronology of the Solanki temples of Gujarat,” Journal of Madhya Pradesh Itihasa Parishad, 1961, 3, 1-83. , London, 1977. 11. Datta, S., Geometric Delineation in the Nâgara Cella: Study of the temple of Ranakdevi at Wadhwan 12. Datta, S., , Thesis, School of Architecture, CEPT. Vastu Shilpa Foundation, Ahmedabad, 1993. Modelling Sikhara form in the Maha-gurjara idiom 13. Datta, S., “Infinite Sequences and the Form of Cella Superstructures,” in , Michael Ventris Research Report, Institute of Classical Studies, Cambridge and Architectural Association (AA) London, 1994. The Proceedings of the Third International Conference on Mathematics and Design 14. Streilein, A., Niederöst, M., “Reconstruction of the Disentis monastery from high resolution still video imagery with object oriented measurement routines.” , Deakin University, Geelong, 2001, 106–112. International Archives of Photogrammetry and Remote Sensing 15. Debevec, P., C. Taylor, and J. Malik:, “Modeling and rendering architecture from photographs: A hybrid geometry and image-based approach,” in , Vol. XXII, Part 5, 1998, 271–277. Proceedings of SIGGRAPH 1996 16. Datta, S., “On Recovering the Surface Geometry of Temple Superstructures,” in Bhatt, A., ed., , 1996,11–20. Proceedings of the 10th International Conference on Computer Aided Architectural Design Research in Asia 17. Evans, R., , TVB School of Habitat Studies, New Delhi, Volume 2, 2005, 253-258. The Projective Cast: Architecture and Its Three Geometries, Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1995. 15 18. Affleck, J. and Kvan, T., “Reinterpreting Virtual Heritage,” in Bhatt, A., ed., Proceedings of the Tenth Conference on Computer-Aided Architectural Design Research in Asia 19. Datta S. and Beynon, D. (2008) Compositional Connections: Temple Form in Early Southeast Asia, History in Practice, Society of Architectural Historians Australia New Zealand, Geelong, Australia [DVD Publication] , TVB School of Habitat Studies, New Delhi, Volume 1, 2005, 69-178. 20. Bhatt, R. (1981). Brhat Samhita of Varahamihira (Vol. 1 & 2). New Delhi: Motilal Banarsidass. 21. Acharya, P. (1980). The architecture of the Mansara (Vol. 2). New Delhi: Manohar Publishers. 22. Dagens, B. (1995). Mayamata: An Indian treatise on Housing Architecture and Iconography. New Delhi: Sitaram Bhartia Institute of Science and Research. 23. Boner, A., Ram Sarma, Sadasiva, & Baumer, B. (2000). Vastusutra Upanisad:the Essence Of Form In Sacred Art(skt. Text, Eng. Tr. & Notes), . New Delhi: Motilal Barnasidass. INFINITE seQUENCES IN THE CONSTRUCTIVE GEOMETRY OF 10th Century Hindu TEMPLE superstructureS Construction and Canon in Temple Architecture Comparative analysis of Geometry: Discussion Superstructure Geometry The Ground Plan Description of Curvature Infinite sequences: A mathematical formulation Conclusion Bibliography 
work_qu6qpszl2vhpdf7yjgjlkhc5s4	----	Book Reviews In addition there are three papers which are directly concerned with the history of medicine in the period. Jole Shackelford gives a succinct but superb account of the fortunes of Paracelsianism in Denmark as a result of the work of Petrus Severinus, Johannes Pratensis and Tycho Brahe and their support by Frederick II. Harold J. Cook's paper succeeds in showing the ways in which "changes in the political direction of a nation" might affect medicine, by looking at the changes brought about in England after the Glorious Revolution. Apart from a suggestion that the ontological theory of disease received a boost at this time, Cook concentrates on the institutional changes in medicine wrought by the political scene. Finally, Pamela H. Smith shows how Johann Joachim Becher tried to use his knowledge of medicine and natural philosophy to give him authority to treat the "body politic" of Bavaria, where he was court physician and mathematician to the Elector. Becher's task was to convince the prince and his more conservative advisers that commerce was a natural and productive means of producing wealth. He did so by drawing an analogy between the workings ofcommerce and the cycle of nourishment and consumption in the human body. Historical studies of the role of patronage in the history of science and medicine are in vogue and the most significant of these studies show how the conceptual content of science and medicine is directly affected by the nature of the patronage it receives. Not all of these studies succeed in this regard but they all make important contributions to our understanding of the historical background. John Henry, Science Studies Unit, University of Edinburgh DANIELLE GOUREVITCH (ed.), Maladie et maladies: histoire et conceptualisation. Melanges en l'honneur de Mirko Grmek, Hautes Etudes Medievales et Modernes 70, Geneva, Librairie Droz, 1992, pp. lxxii, 473. The retirement of Mirko Grmek from his chair in the history of medicine at the Ecole pratique des Hautes Etudes in Paris has been marked by this collection of essays by his friends and pupils. Croat by birth and French by naturalisation, he has always displayed a formidable range of knowledge of all aspects of medical history to go with his equally wide linguistic competence. From palaeopathology and the ancient Greeks to Claude Bernard and modern AIDS, there is little on which he has not touched or on which he has not had something of value and importance to contribute. Whether in personal communication, on international committees (including five years on the Wellcome Trust's History of Medicine Panel), by his endeavours to reach out as a medical historian to a wider public, or by his teaching in Paris and at the International Summer School on Ischia, he has sought to inform and to bring together all those whose interest and expertise might be profitably conjoined for the greater understanding of medicine and its history. It is fitting that the contributors have all considered one of Grmek's favourite themes, disease, its incidence, characterisation, and history. They range from problems in palaeopathology (including leprosy), through aspects of Egyptian, Islamic, and Tibetan medicine, to concepts of disease and cure in Slav poetry and in modern molecular biology. There are two essays on the French renaissance, and three on the eighteenth century, but the bulk of the contributors deal with classical antiquity or the nineteenth century. Wounds, intestinal incontinence, poisoning, the diseases of maritime communities, and the complex story of how the "disease of Hercules" came to be identified as epilepsy are but some of the classical themes; tuberculosis, meningitis, and yellow fever some of the later topics. All display, directly or indirectly, the effects of their author's links with the honorand, and all show that high standard of research and insight that we have come to associate with him. Mirko Grmek is a prolific writer, as his bibliography reveals, and we hope that he will continue to stimulate and inform for many years more. He has also been a tireless advocate, for medical history and, not at least, for the inhabitants of his own Croatia in these dark times. His friends have given him an appropriate tribute. Vivian Nutton, Wellcome Institute 103 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300057859 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:12, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300057859 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_qu73tzemafcp3ecaz7kb2yy2a4	----	anuario de historia 32.pdf ARTÍCULOS LATINOAMÉRICA HIC SUNT CANIBALES: EL CANIBALISMO DEL NUEVO MUNDO EN EL IMAGINARIO EUROPEO (1492-1729) Paolo Vignolo Profesor Departamento de Historia Universidad Nacional Resumen El artículo se propone explorar el papel del canibalismo en la apropiación simbólica del Nuevo Mundo por parte de la cultura europea. El punto de partida es el surgimiento de una imagen de las nuevas posesiones de ultramar que se estructura a partir de una visión cosmológica todavía anclada en la antigua teoría de las zonas, cuyo corolario fundamental es la existencia de tierras y pueblos en las antípodas de la ecoumene tradicional. El rico imaginario que rodea al habitante del más allá desconocido, fruto de elaboraciones culturales sedimentadas a lo largo de más de mil años, se vuelve una cuestión de candente actualidad política a partir de la mitad del siglo XV, cuando portugueses y españoles alcanzan a ir más allá de los limes de los antiguos. El mundo al revés medieval será el molde en donde se va forjando la dicotomía entre el indio edénico, antepasado del buen salvaje, y el caribe antropó- fago, emblema de la barbarie del nuevo sujeto colonial. El canibalismo conlleva profundas implicaciones en la percepción del otro y de sí mismos por parte de los europeos, ya que vuelve a trazar las fronteras de lo humano. Asistimos entonces a una compleja transición, que llevara al monstruo medieval a transformarse en el salvaje de la ideología colonial moderna. Palabras clave: canibalismo, Nuevo Mundo, antípodas, monstruo, salvaje, imagi- narios, estudios coloniales, Calibán. Abstract This article explores the role of cannibalism in the symbolic appropriation of the New World by European culture. The starting point is the rise of an image of the ultramarine possessions within a cosmological vision still based on the ancient zone theory and its main corollary, the existence of lands and peoples at the antipodes of the traditional ecoumene. The rich imagery that surrounds the habitant of the unknown beyond–as a result of cultural elaborations settled over more than a thousand years– becomes a matter of burning political topicality in the second half of the sixteenth century, when Portuguese and Spanish expeditions succeed to go beyond the limes of the ancients. The upturned medieval world becomes the mold Recepción: 17 de junio de 2005. Aprobación: 10 de agosto de 2005 Anuario Colombiano de Historia Social y de la Cultura No. 32, 2005, pp. 151-188 ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 152 for shaping the dichotomy between the Edenic Indian, precursor of the Noble Savage, and the anthropophagical Caribbean, emblem of the barbarism of the new colonial subject. Cannibalism has deep implications both in the perception of the other and of self, because it redefines the frontiers of what is human and what is not. A complex transition takes place, which will transform the medieval monster into the savage of modern colonial ideology. Key words: cannibalism, New World, antipodes, monster, savage, imagery, colonial studies, Caliban. Introducción A partir del siglo XVI la figura del caníbal aparece en todas partes: se le encuentra en los grabados y en las crónicas de viajes, en los libros de caballerías y en los mapamundis; en las fiestas de corte y en los carnavales populares. A medida que los viajeros dan cuenta de su difusión en el nuevo continente, más allá del océano, su celebridad en Europa se extiende rápidamente. ¿Cómo explicar esta formidable fortuna del canibalismo en el imaginario colectivo del Renacimiento? ¿Que relación hay entre la visión cosmográfica de un Alter Orbis y la reiteradas acusaciones a sus habitantes de comer carne humana? ¿Por qué esa obsesión por la antropofagia que acompaña toda la conquista del Nuevo Mundo, desde el primer viaje de Colón? El artículo se propone abordar estas cuestiones. La etimología del término caníbal, argumento del primer apartado, permite orientarnos en el debate alrededor de las costumbre alimentarias del habitante de las tierras de ultramar. Un debate que, a partir de los seres antropomórfos de la tradición pliniana, va a contribuir al nacimiento de la antropología y de la etnografía modernas. El segundo apartado ubica la metamorfosis del imaginario de la alteridad lejana en el contexto de una nueva visión del mundo en gestación, destacando el papel crucial de la antigua doctrina de las teoría de la zonas, cuyo principal corolario es la supuesta existencia de pueblos y tierras a las antípodas de la ecoumene tradicional. En el siglo XVI asistimos a dos fenómenos complementarios, a los cuales están dedicados los apartados tres y cuatro: la acusación de antropofagia se extiende a la mayor parte de los habitantes del Nuevo Mundo, mientras que la figura del caníbal entra como protagonista en el folclor europeo. Progresivamen- te otra visión del canibalismo se impone: a la antropofagia de necesidad de los primeros relatos, famélica y bestial, se añade el canibalismo ritual, de venganza. La antropofagia pasa del reino de la natura al terreno de la cultura. La explicación del canibalismo en términos religiosos y culturales y no simplemente alimentarios desemboca, como resultado inesperado, en situar al caníbal en el corazón mismo de la disputa teológica sobre la eucaristía, que opone duramente a católicos y reformados en las guerras de religión que devastan a Europa. Los mecanismos 153 Hic Sunt Canibales de inversión, propios del imaginario antipódico, permiten devolver las acusacio- nes de salvajismo a los adversarios políticos y doctrinarios en Europa. Este es el tema del apartado quinto. El sexto apartado trata de dar cuenta de cómo la antropofagia actúa en un doble sentido: por un lado permite domesticar al otro, reduciéndolo a unas categorías conocidas; mientras por el otro, se vuelve el marco indeleble de su irreducible diversidad. La fascinación mórbida que rodea el salvaje del Nuevo Mundo se refleja en la literatura renacentista: en particular los caníbales de Montaigne, analizados en el apartado siete, y el Calibán de Shakespeare, en los apartados ocho y nueve, ponen las bases para el desarrollo moderno de la cuestión del otro. El décimo y último apartado está dedicado a la elaboración que se da en el siglo XVIII al buen salvaje y al indio bestial, las dos caras complementarias de la representa- ción de un nuevo sujeto colonial. El mundus inversus et perversus de los caníbales en las antípodas de Europa abre paso a un juego de múltiples inversiones, que va a permitir asimilar tanto el allá maravilloso como el acá familiar, estableciendo una línea de frontera infranqueable entre la civilización cristiana europea y la supuesta barbarie de los pueblos salvajes. La invención del caníbal: De cinocéfalo a súbdito del Gran Kan La etimología nos da una primera pista para explorar la relación entre antropofagia y Nuevo Mundo. El inventor del término caníbal es, sin duda alguna, Cristóbal Colón. El 4 de noviembre de 1492 el almirante genovés anota en su diario: Mostró el Almirante a unos indios de allí’ canela y pimienta, parez que de la que llevava de Castilla para muestra y cognosciéronla, diz que, y dixeron por señas que cerca de allí avía mucho de aquello al camino del Sueste. Mostróles oro y perlas y respondieron ciertos viejos que en un lugar que llamaron Bohío avía infinito y que lo traían al cuello y a las orejas y a los braços y a las piernas, y también perlas. Entendió más, que dezían que avía naos grandes y mercaderías, y todo eso era al Sueste. Entendió también que lexos de allí avía hombres de un ojo y otros con hoçicos de perros que comían los hombres, y que en tomando uno lo degollavan y le bevían la sangre y le cortaban su natura.1 Algunos días más tarde, el 23 de noviembre, en cercanías de Bohío, el almirante vuelve sobre el asunto, utilizando por vez primera el neologismo caníbales. El término caníbal parece tomado de una palabra utilizada por los arawaks (los primeros pobladores con quien Colón había entrado en contacto) para designar de modo despectivo a sus enemigos del interior. 1 Cristóbal Colón, Textos y documentos completos: Relaciones de viajes, cartas y memoriales, edición, prólogo y notas de Consuelo Varela (Madrid: Alianza, 1982) 51. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 154 Un monstruoso ser antropomorfo que come carne humana: esta es la primera imagen con la cual el caníbal entrará triunfalmente en el imaginario europeo del siglo XVI, desempeñando un papel importante en las fantasías y en los miedos colectivos que agitan los turbulentos acontecimientos del siglo, tanto en Europa como en las tierras de ultramar. Pero, ¿de dónde surge esta condensación semántica que nos presenta la figura del caníbal como un ser híbrido, al mismo tiempo cíclope, cinocéfalo y antropófago? Hay un amplio consenso entre los especialistas sobre el hecho de que no sea creíble la pretensión de los españoles de una trasparencia lingüística que les permitiera una comunicación fluida con los arawaks. Colón no puede –o quizás no quiere– comprender las enormes dificultades implícitas en el proceso de traduc- ción, y prefiere deleitarse con la fábula de un estado lingüístico edénico, o por lo menos prebabélico.2 La interpretación de los diálogos con los aborígenes depende de las expectativas y de los horizontes mentales de los españoles, y poco o nada tiene que ver con que el discurso del otro extraeuropeo. Si no se trata de cuentos de origen arawak, está claro que surge del bagaje cultural que los tripulantes europeos vienen cargando consigo en sus carabelas. Ciertos sonidos, ciertas asonancias, ciertos gestos de los habitantes de esas tierras desconocidas han despertado en la mente de Colón reminiscencias clásicas, leyendas de marinos, ensueños de geógrafos y poetas. Es gracias a sus lecturas de Marco Polo, de sir Juan de Mandevila, de Pierre D’Ailly que Colón puede identificar, no sin cierto escepticismo, los caníbales con los cinocéfalos antropófagos.3 Queda por entender como se dieron estas asociaciones. Lestringant nos regala una brillante explicación de los pasajes que permiten al almirante genovés llegar a semejantes conclusiones, aparentemente tan estrafa- larias: “manifiestamente Colón tradujo los términos injuriosos que los arawak 2 Sobre cuestiones de comunicación, véase entre otros Tzvetan Todorov, La conquista de América: El problema del otro (México: Siglo XXI, 1989); Stephen Greenblatt, Marvelous Possessions: The Wonder of the New World (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1991); Umberto Eco, La recherche de la langue parfaite dans la culture européenne, trad. J. P. Manganaro, prefacio Jacques Le Goff, (París: Seuil, 1994); y Inga Clendinnen, “Fierce and Unnatural Cruelty: Cortés and the Conquest of Mexico”, New World Encounters, ed. Stephen Greenblatt (Berkley-Los Angeles: University of California Press, 1992) 12-48. 3 Vale la pena subrayar que los dos pueblos monstruosos nombrados por Colón son los primeros del catálogo de las fabulosas razas plinianas redactado por Isidoro de Sevilla, que aparecen también en la Imago Mundi de Pierre D’Ailly, libro de cabecera del Almirante genovés: “Los cinocéfalos, los cíclopes, los blemmies, los panoti, los artabatitos, los sátiros y faunos de pies torcidos, los sciapodes, los antípodas, los hipopodas leves en el correr, los macrobos de legendaria longevidad y los pigmeos, en perpetua guerra contra las grullas, que ellos pelean montados sobre chivos.” Citado en Frank Lestringant, Le cannibale : Grandeur et décadence (París: Perrin, 1994) 44, trad. pers. Daniel Defert sostiene que Colón en su primera travesía oceánica lleva consigo la colección de Gerardt Leuv, que reúne las relaciones de Marco Polo, Mandeville, Ludolpe Suchan. Véase Daniel Defert, “Collections et nations au XVIe siècle”, L’Amérique de Théodore de Bry: Une collection de voyages protestante du XVIe siècle, dir. Michèle Duchet (París: CNRS, 1987). 155 Hic Sunt Canibales endilgaban a sus vecinos antropófagos en función de un imaginario científico preexistente. Feroces tribus que comen otros seres humanos y beben su sangre son revestidos de autoridad –Plinius dixit– ¡de hocicos de perro! … Las raíces verbales se enredan, acompañando la ósmosis de las imágenes. En el término cannibale – o más exactamente caníbal– Colón ha confusamente percibido el radical del latín canis; de ahí la asimilación al cinocéfalo.”4 Las incomprensibles palabras arawak devuelven a Colón a las viejas fantasmagorías de cíclopes y de hombres perros que desde hace siglos pueblan las fronteras inciertas del mundo.5 Sin embargo aún no se han acabado las audaces interpretaciones del término caníbal. No han pasado tres días de haber introducido –acontecimiento cargado de consecuencias, hasta nuestros días– el término caníbal en el vocabulario de la conquista, cuando ya Colón cambia de idea y se inventa otra dudosa etimología. La nueva interpretación, ya confusamente percibida el mismo 26 de noviembre, va a ser formulada en forma más coherentes el 11 de diciembre: Detrás d’esta Española, a que ellos llaman Caritaba, y que es cosa infinita, y cuasi traen razón qu’ellos sean trabajados de gente astuta, porque todas estas islas biven con gran miedo de los de Caniba, “y asi torno a dezir como otras vezes dixe”, dize él, “que Caniba no es otra cosa que la gente del Gran Can, que deve ser aquí muy vezino; y terná navíos y vernán a captivarlos, y como no buelven, creen que se los (han) comido.6 Los Caniba –la dicción es aún incierta, tartamudeos de palabra recién acuñada– no son ni monstruos, ni quizás tampoco antropófagos. Según esta nueva interpretación, son más bien el pueblo del Gran Kan, el Gran soberano de la China lejana. ¿Por qué? Por un simple juego de asociaciones, que en una fantasiosa intuición etimológica asocia can y Gran Can. El radical cani (del arawako canima) es puesto en relación con el término Can. Los caníbales pertenecerían al Señorío del Gran Can, Soberano del Catay y de las Indias Superiores. ¿Por qué Colón se orienta hacia esta nueva explicación? En realidad, él nunca había prestado demasiado cuidado a las leyendas sobre monstruos y quimeras, liquidándolas como simples supersticiones de marinos. Si de pronto en los 4 Lestringant, Le cannibale… 43. 5 En la iconografía medieval ya encontramos representaciones de seres antropofágicos con la cabeza de perro. Véase, por ejemplo, el fragmento del mapamundi del ducado de Cornoalla, entre 1283- 1300. En Segni e sogni della terra: Il disegno del mondo dal mito di Atlante alla geografia delle reti, catálogo de la homónima exposición al Palazzo Reale de Milano (Milano: De Agostini, 2001) 70. Para la historia y metamorfosis de esta primera iconografía que circula en Europa, véase Bernadette Bucher, Icon and Conquest: A Structural Analysis of the Illustrations of de Bry’s Great Voyages (Chicago and London: University of Chicago Press, 1981). También la figura del cinocéfalo cíclope tendrá una cierta fortuna propia. Recordamos por ejemplo el gigante cinocéfalo, jefe de los invasores de Utopía en el segundo Libro de Rabelais. 6 Colón, Textos y documentos completos… 78. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 156 primeros días había dado la impresión de ceder a las versiones que evocaban monstruos dignos de los viajes de Mandevila, en ese punto es evidente su intento de racionalizar el asunto entero. Por un lado, Colón necesita buscar una explicación lo más pragmática y esperanzadora posible para sus hombres, mientras que por el otro, él sabe que tiene que rendir cuentas de su misión frente a los Reyes. La segunda explicación –la del Gran Can– satisface ambas exigencias. La presencia de un pueblo civilizado y bien armado (o más bien, civilizado porque bien armado) resulta una excelente noticia para una tripulación en busca de rutas comerciales con el fabuloso oriente de riquezas infinitas. Al mismo tiempo Colón jamás hizo misterio de su deseo de encontrar al gran Emperador de la China, para el cual traía consigo cartas de sus soberanos.7 Su empresa era precisamente la de llegar a las Indias, este continente prodigioso del cual el caníbal se va a volver, primero la señal premonitoria, luego el símbolo y finalmente el emblema. A las antípodas de Europa Como nos recuerda Todorov, el impulso que empuja a Colón a aventurarse por rutas desconocidas no es la simple búsqueda del oro. El oro es un medio para cumplir con una misión muchos más amplia. El mismo Colón escribe: “Al tiempo en que yo me moví para ir a descubrir las Indias fui con intención de suplicar al Rey y a la Reina Nuestros Señores que de la renta que de Sus Altezas de las Indias hobiere que se determinase de la gastar en la conquista de Jerusalén, y así se lo supliqué.”8 Financiar la última Cruzada con el oro de las Indias: este es el visionario proyecto del viajero genovés. Proyecto que con los años se va a cargar de tintes escatológico-apocalípticos: en su madurez Colón se esforzará, de todas las mane- ras, en justificar sus hazañas en el marco de las profecías bíblicas. La acelerada evangelización de las nuevas tierras se vuelve entonces un claro signo premonito- rio de la reconquista de la Jerusalén terrenal y de la inminencia del triunfo de la Jerusalén celeste. Hay que ir al confín último del mundo –sostiene el marino genovés– para poder restablecer el orden en el centro, así como hay que llegar al final de los tiempos para ganar la eternidad de la ciudad celeste. El descubrimiento y la conquista preconizan el Fin de los Tiempos y la llegada del Juicio Universal. 7 Diwald nos recuerda que, con ocasión de la expedicion de 1492, unas cartas de presentación fueron dirigidas por los reyes católicos a los soberanos asiáticos, para establecer los primeros contactos diplomáticos. Véase Hellmut Diwald, “Emancipazione: Circa 1400-1555”, Storia d’Europa, vol.1 (Milano: Mondadori, 1975) 289, y también Greenblatt, New World Encounters... 104-105. 8 Institución de Mayorazgo, 22 febrero 1498, en Todorov, La conquista de América… 18-19. Véase también Margarita Zamora, “Christopher Columbus’s ‘Letter to the Sovereigns’: Announcing the discovery”, New World Encounters... 1-12. 157 Hic Sunt Canibales En el marco de la visión mesiánico-milenarista en la cual van tomando forma los viajes de Colón, el encuentro con el legendario Gran Can juega un papel irremplazable. Su conversión a la fe cristiana es la condición sine qua non para que se dé paso a la última Cruzada.9 Los esfuerzos de evangelización serán recompen- sados, por la Divina Providencia, con el oro necesario para financiar la guerra definitiva contra los infieles. De allí su gran interés en cualquier signo de la cercanía del tan anhelado Emperador de oriente, como por ejemplo la presencia de sus súbditos cariba. La sucesiva lectura de la aventura de Colón en asociación con la idea de América, nos hace a menudo olvidar que –entre sus contemporáneos– sus hazañas fueron celebradas como la posibilidad de “pasar a través de las antípodas occiden- tales, en un hemisferio inexplorado”, de acuerdo a las palabras de Pedro Martyr de Anghiera.10 Es curiosa la poca atención que se ha prestado a esta primera formulación, en donde no se hace referencia ni a las Indias, ni al Nuevo Mundo, ni por supuesto a América, sino a “las antípodas”. Por el contrario se trata a nuestro aviso de un hecho sintomático, revelador de la visión dominante del Orbe entre las elites cultivadas de la época, embebidas de clasicismo humanista.11 Es gracias a los contactos epistolarios de Martyr que noticias y rumores empiezan a propagarse por toda Europa. Como nos cuenta O’Gormann, la primera referencia es una “incidental y escueta noticia consignada en la carta del 14 de mayo de 1493 que dirigió’ al conde Juan Borromeo. ‘Hace poco días –dice– volvió de los antípodas occidentales cierto Colón, de Liguria. Ha regresado –añade– trayendo como pruebas muchas cosas preciosas, pero principalmente oro que, naturalmente, se produce en aquellas regiones”.12 9 Colón, Textos y documentos completos… 139. Ya el domingo 21 de octubre Colón había escrito en su diario: “Más todavía, tengo determinado de ir a la tierra firme y a la ciudad de Quisay y dar las cartas de Vuestras Altezas al Gran Can y pedir respuesta y venir con ella.”, p. 42. Véase también Todorov, La conquista de América… 12. 10 “Meministis Colonum ligurem institisse in castris apud Reges de percurrendo per occiduos Antipodes novo terrarum hemisperio, meminisse oprtet quia de re vobiscum aliquando actum est.” Petri Martyris ab Anghiera, Opus Epistolarum, Compluti 1530 (Graz 1966), ep. 134, p. 361, Gli antipodi: Avventure letterarie di un mito scientifico, ed. Gabriella Moretti (Parma: Pratiche,1994) 119; trad. pers. 11 Una importante excepción es el libro de Moretti, que dedica amplio espacio al asunto. 12 E. O’Gormann, “Introducción” a Petri Martyr de Angleria, Décadas del Nuevo Mundo, tomo 1 (Sociedad Dominicana de Bibliofilos, 1989) 9. “Post paucos inde dies rediit ab antipodibus occiduis Christophorus quidam Colonus vir ligur, qui a meis Regibus ad hanc provinitiam tria vix impetraverat navigia, quia fabulosa quae dicebat arbitrabantur, rediit, preciosarum multarum rerum, sed auri praecipue, quae suapte natura regiones illae generant, argumenta tulit…” Petri Martyr ab Angleria, Opus Epistolarum…, ep. 131, p. 360, Gli antipodi… 119. Como nos recuerda O’Gormann, el papel de Martyr en toda la primera etapa de los descubrimientos es crucial. No se trata sólo de su actividad de coleccionista de objetos indianos y de conocedor personal de los principales protagonistas del descubrimiento, sino también de su incesante actividad epistolar que permite la difusión – entre las elites europeas– de informaciones de primera mano de los inauditos acontecimientos en las regiones de ultramar. Véase O’Gormann, “Introducción…”, y Antonello Gerbi, La disputa del Nuovo Mondo (Milano: Adelphi, 2000). ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 158 La referencia a las antípodas no es arbitraria, ni excéntrica. La piedra millar de la visión del mundo dominante en el siglo XV sigue siendo la teoría de las zonas de los antiguos, cuyo corolario imprescindible tiene que ver con la existencia de tierras –y quizás pueblos– a las antípodas, por definición imposibles de alcanzar a causa de infranqueables barreras naturales, mares tempestuosos y desiertos tórridos. La verdadera novedad del viaje de Colón no es la de haber descubierto alguna isla en el Océano, sino haber quebrantado –siguiendo el rumbo de los portugueses– los obstáculos naturales que impedían el paso al otro hemisferio, donde mora el misterioso pueblo de los antípodas.13 Ya en Platón (el inventor del término), las antípodas son un referente tanto científico como literario: designa a la vez un punto diametralmente opuesto al del observador en el globo terráqueo, las tierras al otro lado de la ecoumene y los espacios abiertos a la imaginación y la utopía.14 Mas allá de las disquisiciones sobre si hay que identificar las costas recién descubiertas con un archipiélago o un continente, si hay que llamarlo Indias, Nuevo Mundo, Catay, Paria o América, lo que surge en los documentos de la época es que, a nivel de imaginario, los europeos tienden a concebir el Nuevo Mundo como un mundo al revés, anti-podos, es decir anti-piés: el mundo de los que tienen los pies al revés, que están cabeza abajo y patas arriba… Un tema –el de las antípodas– que permite infinitos juegos de subversión simbólica y de inversión del sentido común: por eso desde sus orígenes estimula las sátiras de los poetas y los tratados de los teólogos; las especulaciones filosóficas y los relatos míticos; las disertaciones de los astrónomos y las leyendas de un oriente fabuloso, mas allá de un mar Océano envuelto de misterios. Evocar un anti- mundo, un mundo cabeza abajo y patas arriba, implica sacudir las categorías cognitivas tradicionales, sin necesariamente poner en riesgo las bases de la cosmología medieval. Se trata de forzar estas categorías cognitivas para que se ajusten a las nuevas coordenadas simbólicas: tierras e islas habitadas por pueblos radicalmente “otros” –en sus usos, sus costumbres, sus cuerpos, su ambiente natural– son un escenario privilegiado donde poner en escena lo que se escapa a las lógicas, a las estéticas, a las costumbres de la época. Por otra parte, es a partir del vasto imaginario ligado a las antípodas que la visión tradicional de la tierra y del ser humano se ve trastocada y transgredida, dando origen a fenómenos típicos de la incipiente modernidad. Las antípodas en efecto actúan como una poderosa machine a renverser, una máquina 13 Paolo Vignolo, “Nuevo Mundo: ¿Un mundo al revés?”, El Nuevo Mundo, problemas y debates (Bogotá: Universidad de los Andes, 2004). 14 La referencia desde luego es a las descripciones de Atlántida y de Er: como nos recuerda Moretti, la etimología griega de la palabra antipodas –que asocia de manera curiosa el sufijo Üíôß (anti) con el sustantivo ðïõò (pie)– contiene ya en germen las características de inversión simbólica y de subversión del sentido común que son la base de su fortuna científica y literaria. Moretti, Gli antipodi… 17-18, trad. pers. Véase también Geneviève Droz, Les mythes platoniciens (París: Seuil, 1992) 175-185. En la obra platónica, véase Timeo 24d-25d, y Critias 120e-121c. 159 Hic Sunt Canibales generadora de inversiones de las categorías aristotélico-tomísticas. Es decir, un poderoso dispositivo retórico que permite imaginar nuevos mundos posi- bles a partir de un sistema bien rodado de inversiones y de una constelación muy rica de mitos, creencias y leyendas que se han venido sedimentando en el curso de los siglos.15 Gran cruce de imaginarios desde la antigüedad, a las antípodas (y alrededores) se encuentran por lo menos cuatro grandes mitos, entremezclados entre ellos en las combinaciones más variadas. Antes que todo la Edad de Oro de origen clásico, retomada por los humanistas; luego el Paraíso terrestre de la tradición judeocristiana y el mito del Imperio universal grecorromano, puesto de moda con el advenimiento de los estados nacionales. Finalmente el mito carnavalesco del país de Cucaña, tan arraigado en de la cultura popular de la Europa medieval; de este crisol surge el primer gran mito propiamente moderno, el mito de Utopía. Una vez en discusión la visión antropológica medieval, el problema que se abre en el debate cultural entre los siglos XV y XVI es cómo restablecer los límites entre lo que es humano y lo que no lo es. Sobre todo a partir de la segunda mitad del siglo XV, cuando las expediciones portuguesas a lo largo de las costas africanas dan cuenta de que es posible atravesar indemnes la zona ecuatorial. No solo a pesar del calor intenso, estas zonas son habitables y, en efecto, habitadas. La ruta hacia el Mundo –alter et idem– de las antípodas está abierta. La antigua questio de antipodorum sale de las diatribas doctrinarias medievales para volverse un problema geopolítico de candente actualidad. El buen salvaje y el caribe malo La hipótesis de los cariba-caníbales como súbditos a las órdenes del Gran Can no va a resistir a la prueba de los hechos: ésta será definitivamente abandonada por el mismo Colón durante sus siguientes viajes. No se perderán sin embargo las esperanzas de entrar en contacto con un Imperio opuesto y simétrico al occidente cristiano, del cual el fabuloso Catay de Marco Polo es el modelo paradigmático. A lo largo de muchos siglos los europeos seguirán soñando con reinos e imperios fabulosos en el otro hemisferio: el Catay de Marco Polo y del Orlando Furioso, los imperios de México y del Perú, el reino de Preste Juan, El Dorado, la Tierra Australis Incognita...16 Tampoco las precauciones de Colón hacia la existencia de seres monstruosos tienen mucha acogida entre aquellos que se encargarán de difundir en Europa las 15 Vignolo, “Nuevo Mundo:…” 16 No hay que olvidar que Ariosto escribe en los mismos años en los cuales los navíos portugueses entran en el mar de la China y se anclan en Canton. En 1516 unos mercaderes provenientes de Europa, los primeros después de Marco Polo, homenajean al Emperador chino en Pekin. Véase Diwald, “Emancipazione:…” 285. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 160 noticias de sus viajes.17 Los rumores y los fragmentos de informaciones que llegan de las hazañas de los primeros navegantes del mar Océano se cristalizarán en dos imágenes, que gozarán de gran fortuna hasta volverse un topos obligado del género. Ambas imágenes se inspiran en el De Orbe Novo de Pedro Martyr y ambas tienen como protagonistas a los caníbales: la caza a los desafortunados indios taínos y los restos de un festín antropófago en Guadalupe, inspirado en el segundo viaje de Colón. En la primera imagen se explícita la distinción crucial entre indios pacíficos y caníbales feroces; mientras que en la segunda se consolida la pesadilla gastronómica que tanto habrá de obsesionar a los europeos. La extraordinaria circulación de distintas versiones –grabadas, escritas, contadas– de estas primeras imágenes del Nuevo Mundo se debe sobre todo a su inclusión en numerosas colecciones de viajes del Renacimiento. Es precisamente esta literatura “popular”, hecha de fragmentos de textos plagiados de autores célebres, a menudo acompañadas de ilustraciones, la que va a modelar de manera poderosa, gracias a la extraordinaria difusión de la prensa, el imaginario colectivo de la conquista.18 La evocación de una cocina caníbal donde obscenos caribes se alistan para comerse a sus pacíficos vecinos (luego de rocambolescas cazas en el escenario de un mundo exótico, sensual y estrafalario) llega a golpear la imaginación del público. La fantasía de los grabadores y los letrados se encuentra por ende estimulada a representar –dentro de los severos moldes establecidos por la tradición– este mundo al revés, Mundus inversus et perversus en donde todas las normas sociales parecen estar trastocadas. En un principio los caníbales carniceros son todavía representados con cabeza de perro, como por ejemplo en un grabado en madera publicado por Lorenz Fries en 1525, que –según parece– acompañaba la Carta Náutica de Waldseemüller. En las obras sucesivas, los atributos propiamente monstruosos del caníbal dejan el lugar a un imaginario “que asocia la panoplia del perfecto carnicero de Europa al salvajismo de los foráneos cocineros edénicos”, según la irónica expresión de Lestringant.19 Asistimos entonces a una compleja transición, que llevará al mons- truo medieval a transformarse en el salvaje de la ideología colonial moderna. La metamorfosis está en proceso: el caribe-caníbal, “último de los plinianos”, ya está listo para volverse el primer sujeto colonial. 17 Antonucci nos recuerda que los diarios, editados sólo hasta 1825, circulan en Europa a través de copias adaptadas, entre otros, por Bartolomé de Las Casas. Fausta Antonucci, “Introduzione”, Giornale di bordo del primo viaggio e scoperta delle Indie, de Cristoforo Colombo (Milano: Rizzoli, 1992) 21-22. 18 A propósito del papel de este tipo de compilaciones en los “juegos de relaciones entre estrategias religiosa y geopolíticas por una parte, y dispositivo icónico por la otra”, véase Defert, “Collections et nations…” 19 Lestringant, Le cannibale… 48-49. 161 Hic Sunt Canibales Carnicería de caníbales con cabeza de perro. Lorenz Fries, Strasbourg, 1525 y 1527. Grabado en madera. Gráfica tomada del libro de Frank Lestringant, Le cannibale. Grandeur et décadence (París: Perrin, 1994) 48. Caníbales con tabla de picar. Sebastián Münster, Bâle, 1554. Grabado en madera. Gráfica tomada del libro de Frank Lestringant, Le cannibale. Grandeur et décadence (París: Perrin, 1994) 61. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 162 De Colón en adelante, la distinción entre indios feroces (los caníbales) e indios edénicos (aptos para la conversión y para la sumisión) traza el confín sobre el cual se organizan las prácticas de dominación de la conquista.20 Frente a la pretensión de los primeros conquistadores de reducir a los indios en esclavitud, la reina Isabel reafirma los intereses de la Corona. Los indios, una vez aceptada la soberanía de Castilla, se vuelven súbditos de la Corona: es decir, hombres libres en el marco de un régimen de tipo feudal.21 La única excepción a este principio universal, contenida en una resolución real de 1495, reafirmada en 1501, se refiere precisamente a la guerra “justa” contra los caribes-caníbales.22 Una de las justificaciones principales de la guerra, junto con la idolatría y los sacrificios humanos, es precisamente la de extirpar el crimen monstruoso de devorar la carne humana, por el cual se hiere muy particularmente el orden natural. En este caso los indios capturados pueden ser reducidos a esclavitud, comprados y vendidos. El canibalismo traza, pues, una línea divisoria entre aquellos que pertenecen al género humano y aquellos que son relegados a los confines de la humanidad, a causa de sus costumbres aberrantes. Aunque en un principio limitada al territorio de las Antillas Menores y a la región alrededor de Cartagena de Indias, esta distinción será utilizada por los encomenderos para justificar deportaciones, pillajes y masacres a escala continental. Basta con encontrar en cualquier pueblo indio un indicio cualquiera de antropofagia, para cambiar las disposiciones de la Corona, y convertir los nuevos súbditos en potenciales esclavos. No sorprende entonces que las denuncias de actos de antropo- fagia se extiendan como mancha de aceite, hasta caracterizar al continente entero.23 A los tres grandes focos de canibalismo de las primeras relaciones, las Antillas, la región alrededor de Cartagena de Indias y el Brasil, se añade pronto la Nueva España. El desconcertante descubrimiento de la práctica sistemática de sacrificios humanos entre los aztecas no hace más que reforzar el proceso de “canibalización” del Nuevo Mundo. Las prácticas antropofágicas permiten negar la humanidad de los indios, dotando a los conquistadores de una poderosa arma polémica. Por ejemplo, cuando en 1545, Juan Ginés de Sepúlveda, por petición de 20 En relación con la crucial oposición entre indígenas pacíficos e indígenas guerreros en el escrito de Colón, agradezco a E. Montenegro por sus fecundas sugerencias. Véase E. Montenegro, “Les Karibs: Ethnologie de groupes précolombiens en Amérique sud et insulaire”, tesis de doctorado, Université de París I, Panthéon Sorbonne (en preparación). 21 Lyle N. McAlister, Dalla scoperta alla conquista: Spagna e Portogallo nel Nuovo Mondo 1492- 1700 (Bologna: Il Mulino, 1986) 207. 22 Lestringant, Le cannibale… 68. 23 La mala reputación de los caribes se extiende en el tiempo también: en el siglo XVIII, el Diccionario de la Real Academia Española lleva la siguiente definición: “Caribe: El hombre sangriento y cruél, que se enfurece contra otros, sin tener lástima, ni compasión. Es tomada la metaphora de unos Indios de la Provincia de Caribana en las Indias, donde todos se alimentaban de carne humana. Lat. Trux; Efferus. [...] Casi todos los de aquellas ribéras eran cáribes, cebados en carne y sangre de hombres.” Citado en Montenegro, “Les Karibs:..”. 163 Hic Sunt Canibales Cortés, procura defender la institución de la encomienda contra la oposición de los Reyes de España, es al canibalismo al que se refiere. Los indios son descritos como: Hombres que se entregan a todo género de intemperancia y de lujuria infame, muchos de los cuales se alimentan de carne humana ... que veneran el vientre y las partes más vergonzosas del cuerpo como Dios, consideran los placeres de la carne como la religión y la virtud, y, como los puercos, tienen la mirada fija sobre la tierra, como si jamás hubieran visto el cielo”.24 Como las bestias, “como los puercos”: ¿De qué manera interpretar estas continuas comparaciones de los indios con lo bestial, de las cuales están plagados los escritos de la época? Gliozzi, en polémica con Lévi-Strauss, sostiene que nadie en el círculo español de comienzos del siglo XVI llega a negar la pertenencia al género humano de los habitantes de las tierras recientemente descubiertas. Inclu- sive los conquistadores (los más hostiles hacia los indígenas) se inclinarán más bien a buscar en la doctrina aristotélica de la esclavitud natural una justificación teórica a su actuar político-militar.25 24 Citado en Gliozzi, Giuliano, Adamo e il nuovo mondo. La nascita dell’antropologia come ideologia coloniale: Dalle genealogie bibliche alle teorie razziali (1500-1700) (Firenze: La Nuova Italia, 1977) 296, trad. pers. 25 Gliozzi, Adamo e il nuovo mondo… 286-287. Ilustración de Jan Van der Straet (1523-1605), aparecida en Nova Reperta en 1638, como parte de la divulgación de clichés sobre América en la Europa del siglo XVII. Gráfica tomada del libro de Álvaro Félix Bolaños, Barbarie y canibalismo en la retórica colonial. Los indios pijaos de Fray Pedro Simón (Bogotá: CEREC, 1994) 184 ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 164 Afirmar la naturaleza bestial del habitante del otro hemisferio amenazaría con hacer estallar toda una cosmogonía basada en la descendencia común de Adán, privando a los aventureros ibéricos de su base religiosa e ideológica y dejando el campo libre a los competidores de otras naciones, sobre todo ingleses y holandeses. Lo que está en juego no es la pertenencia biológica a la humanidad, sino la aceptación de los indios en el seno de la civilización. Los conquistadores se enfrentan a un mismo tiempo, con la Corona y con la Iglesia: la primera tiene todo el interés en mantener a los indios y encomenderos dentro de la estructura social tradicional española, mediante la anexión de las tierras de ultramar directamente a Castilla; la Iglesia de Roma, por otra parte, se preocupa por reforzar su papel misionero, y no perder el control sobre el proceso de la conquista que de éste deriva. De esos contrastes emerge una concepción de la bestialidad del indio en términos de categoría moral más que zoológica, causada por un proceso cultural y no por una ley de natura. No sólo los supuestos comportamientos bestiales del indio no excluyen su descendencia de Adán, sino que necesariamente la implican.26 Canibalismo e idolatría, las costumbres aberrantes que dan lugar a la acusación de bestialidad, son el fruto del pecado y no de una condición biológica. El imaginario carnavalesco: el gusto prohibido de la carne El continente americano, tabula rasa para el deseo europeo, encuentra en el caníbal uno de sus principales protagonistas: digno heredero de la bestialidad de los pueblos monstruosos de la Edad Media, pero también personificación convin- cente del salvaje, libre de toda regla y de toda convención social. La atribución de aberrantes costumbres antropofágicas a la inmensa mayoría de los pueblos del Nuevo Mundo sin ninguna distinción, contribuye a la popularidad de la figura del caníbal en Europa, y de hecho es uno de los ejes centrales alrededor de los cuales se celebra la dinámica de inversión propia de las antípodas. Desde principios del siglo XVI, en efecto, el caníbal entra triunfalmente en el folclor europeo, para ser coronado rey del Otro Mundo. Vestido de piel humana, a imitación de los reyes de Cucaña que visten trajes y abrigos de piel de cochino, ejerce en todos y para todos los poderes de la máscara.27 Los tatuajes, las plumas y los peinados raros que lo caracterizan, entran en la iconografía festiva y dan otros matices al carácter 26 Fernández de Oviedo, por ejemplo, defendiendo la institución de la encomienda, siente la exigencia de precisar: “Esas gentes de esas Indias, por racionales que fueran y de la misma raza de esas ocho personas de la santa Arca y compañía de Noé, ya se habían vuelto irracionales y bestiales con sus idolatrías y sacrificios y ceremonias infernales”. Gonzalo Fernández de Oviedo, Historia general y natural de las Indias, 1, XII, Proemio, vol. 2 (Madrid, 1959) 28, citado en Gliozzi, Adamo e il nuovo mondo… 292, trad. pers. 27 Véase Hilario Franco Junior, Cocanha: A historia de um país imaginário (Sâo Paulo: Companhia das Letras, 1998); Giuseppe Cocchiara, Il mondo alla rovescia (Torino: Camporesi, Boringhieri, 1981); P. García Martín, “Il paese di Cuccagna o la metáfora de la abundancia”, Ludica. Annali di storia e civiltà del gioco, vol. 1 (Treviso, 1995) 19-29. 165 Hic Sunt Canibales del salvaje caníbal del Renacimiento.28 El caníbal carnavalizado, rodeado de un cierto aire de familia en tanto que expresión especular y perversa de las obsesiones de los europeos, permite al viejo continente exorcizar sus miedos más profundos. El desplazamiento de los antropófagos asiáticos de la antigüedad hacia el continente americano se tiñe de los colores fuertes del país de Cucaña y de sus hábitos carnavalescos. Un camino privilegiado en este proceso es atribuir al salvaje habitante de las antípodas prácticas gastronómicas típicamente europeas, pero condimentadas con el gusto prohibido de la carne humana. Según Lestringant: “lo legendario … se reduce a una familiaridad escandalosa. La equivalencia buscada entre el más allá lejano y el más acá próximo vuelve a proyectar sobre el canibalismo americano un modelo culinario europeo, que encuentra mórbidos ‘salazones’ en las piezas de carne humana conservadas y suspendidas del techo de las cabañas, o que inventan inexistentes asadores donde las víctimas se asan a fuego lento”.29 Martyr, por ejemplo, en la descripción de la caza al ganado humano, explica: Estos pacíficos isleños se quejan de que los caníbales los atacan de continuo en busca de botín, no de otro modo que los cazadores persiguen con violencia y con trampas a las fieras a través de los bosques. A los niños que capturan los castran, como hacemos nosotros con los pollos o los cerdos que criamos más gordos y tiernos para nuestro regalo, y así que están grandes y bien cebados se los comen.30 Las prácticas antropofágicas se parecen a los quehaceres domésticos del campesinado europeo. La carne se vuelve un ingrediente exótico de una receta de cocina: “trozos de carne humana cocida, con otras de papagayo y de pato, clavadas en asadores para asarlas”.31 También la descripción que el francés Thevet nos hace de la ceremonia de preparación, muerte y deglución de la víctima de los antropófagos brasileños, procede de prácticas culinarias reservadas para la carne de cerdo en la cultura gastronómica del viejo continente. El prisionero es cebado durante su cautiverio; después, “Este cuerpo, cortado en piezas, y cocido a su manera, será distribuido a todos, cualquiera que sea el número que haya, a cada uno su pedazo. En cuanto a las entrañas, las mujeres comúnmente las comen, y la cabeza la reservan para poner al cabo de una vara sobre sus logettes, en signo de triunfo y victoria.”32 28 En 1550 en Rouen, en las fiestas con ocasión de la entrada de Henri II, se representan indios que bailan y que muestran escenas de vida cotidiana. Véase J. M. Massa, “Le monde luso-brasilien dans la joyeuse entrée de Rouen”, Les Fêtes de la Renaissance, ed. Jean Jacquot, vol. 2 (París: Centre Nationale de la Recherche Scientifique, 1960) 105-116. 29 Lestringant, Le cannibale… 58. Se observa una prevalencia de técnicas de asar que, según Lévi- Strauss, nos remiten a los caracteres propios de una salvajería natural, asociada al nomadismo. Véase Claude Lévi-Strauss, Mythologiques: Le cru et le cuit (París: Plon, 1964). 30 Martyr ab Angleria, Opus Epistolarum…107, Primera Década, libro I. 31 Martyr ab Angleria, Opus Epistolarum…115, Primera Década, libro II. 32 André Thevet, “Les Singularités de la France Antarctique (1557)”, Le Brésil d’André Thevet, ed. Frank Lestringant (París: Chandeigne, 1997) 163. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 166 No se desperdicia nada. En la distribución de la carne de cerdo, durante la fiesta de San Nicolás en el Loira, se procede de manera parecida: Consumíamos las entrañas frescas de animales apenas matados. La médula, conside- rada regeneradora, se consagró a los de más edad; el corazón a los parientes y a los amigos próximos; el hígado y los pulmones a los demás. Las partes nobles del animal fueron preparadas para producir al menos dieciséis distintos tipos de salchichas.33 La fiesta carnavalesca del cochino evoca la transgresión del tabú antropófago y, a la inversa, el banquete caníbal recuerda a los países míticos de Cucaña, Jauja, Bengodi, Piripipao, Luylekkerlandt, Das Schlaraffenland… El banquete caníbal no es más que una versión macabra de la fiesta de la abundancia. Si “Cucaña es el ideal anticristiano de la grande bouffe”, según una expresión de Jacques Le Goff, la América caníbal no puede sino representar su grotesca pesadilla.34 En el imaginario popular, el Otro Mundo patas arriba de los caníbales es evocado a través de las imágenes del mundo al revés del Carnaval, de sus disfraces, sus excesos, sus inversiones y sus transgresiones. La imagen carnal del caníbal, como la de Cucaña, pertenece a la esfera sexual no menos que a la alimenticia. La asociación está ya explícitamente presente en el 33 Franco Junior, Cocanha:… 75, 77 y 159, trad. pers. Franco afirma que “en síntesis, Cucaña es, tanto desde el punto de vista concreto como desde el metafórico, la tierra del cerdo.” También hay interesantes notaciones sobre la discusión de Cucaña como fiesta de sacrificio pagana. 34 La expresión de Jacques Le Goff se encuentra en la introdución a Franco Junior, Cocanha:… 7. Hombre asado a la brocheta. Sebastián Münster, Bâle, 1554. Grabado en madera. Gráfica tomada del libro de Frank Lestringant, Le cannibale. Grandeur et décadence (París: Perrin, 1994) 61. 167 Hic Sunt Canibales Mundus Novus de Américo Vespucio, que no ahorra detalles mordaces para describir a los habitantes del litoral brasileño.35 Por otra parte, en Vespucio asistimos a una profunda transformación en curso en el estatuto de los indios, y en la relación que se establece entre ellos y los europeos. Encontramos aquí, constan- temente mezcladas en las mórbidas descripciones de depravaciones alimenticias y sexuales, todas las características propias de los pueblos de la Edad de Oro. La comunidad de los bienes y de las mujeres, la ausencia de gobierno, de religión, de comercio, en un país con una naturaleza lujuriosa, generosa y fértil, el clima dulce y templado, donde las enfermedades son casi desconocidas y donde se puede vivir hasta los ciento cincuenta años: un lector de la época no puede no asociar los cuentos de los indios salvajes del otro Mundo a los mitos de los antiguos poetas. El efecto es paradójico: los pueblos de este Nuevo Mundo paradisiaco (comparable a la Edad del Oro de los autores clásicos) viven según natura y al mismo tiempo transgreden toda ley natural, comenzando por los tabúes del canibalismo y el incesto.36 El Mundus Novus logra combinar en un mismo fresco la Edad de Oro con el país de Cucaña, las aspiraciones imperialistas con las visiones edénicas, logrando transmitirnos de manera extraordinaria la fascinación de la Europa del Renaci- miento por este Alter Orbis recientemente descubierto. El término fascinación, habrá que tomarlo aquí en su doble acepción etimológica, es decir, al mismo tiempo como encantamiento y como terror frente a esta tierra de transgresión. Mundo al revés que promete a la vez la armonía de un retorno a la inocencia de Adán y la anarquía orgiástica de los excesos carnavalescos. Una sociedad en tumultuosa transformación da forma a sus deseos y a sus angustias colectivas proyectando, en el campo libre de las tierras nuevas, una búsqueda de libertad contradictoria. Por un lado se afirma la primacía de la naturaleza sobre la cultura, soñando una tierra paradisíaca donde la civilización es abolida; al contrario, por otro lado se declara la primacía de la cultura sobre la naturaleza, describiendo con horror mezclado con cierta complacencia un lugar en el cual hay libertad de satisfacer todo apetito y de romper todo tabú, es decir, un lugar donde las prácticas culturales triunfan sobre las leyes naturales. Apetitos de venganza: hoc est corpus meum El canibalismo americano se caracteriza en un primer momento como una antropofagia de necesidad, que nace de una exigencia nutritiva. Los caribes se alimentan de sus víctimas para sobrevivir, como si fueran ganado. Se trata de una 35 Esta relación, enviada a Lorenzo de Pietro Medici, conocerá un inmenso éxito en una versión de 1503, adaptada por un autor anónimo. Véase Américo Vespucci, Cielo nuovo e terra nuova, le lettere della scoperta, ed. V. H. Beonio-Brocchieri (Milano: Archinto, 1991) 58, trad. pers. 36 Vespucci, Cielo nuovo e terra nuova… 58. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 168 idea fuertemente arraigada en el imaginario occidental, que marcará las nacientes ciencias naturales modernas. Al mismo tiempo, otra visión del canibalismo se abre paso, sobre todo en Francia. Los relatos de viajeros y exploradores, a finales del siglo XV y principios del siglo XVI, concurren en afirmar una representación inédita de los habitantes de las antípodas. El pasaje crucial consiste en dar un sentido renovado a la antropofagia, interpretada no como un acto de supervivencia, practicado por gentes brutas e irracionales, sino como una práctica cultural ligada a un ritual de venganza. Uno de los autores fundamentales y más influyentes en esta transformación es el propio Thevet, cosmógrafo del rey. En su obra, que tendrá un eco político notorio, él se preocupa constantemente por distinguir entre indios amigos (aunque antropófagos) y caníbales propiamente dichos. Mientras que estos últimos (progre- sivamente desplazados del litoral del Brasil y de la Nueva Granada hacia la no man's land del Orinoco y de la Guyana) continúan llevando la marca infamante de la bestialidad salvaje, las costumbres de los primeros son objeto de una mirada mucho más atenta y respetuosa.37 Es precisamente esta distinción, entre buenos y malos indios, la que sienta las bases del rescate del canibalismo. Aunque abomi- nable, la costumbre de comerse a sus enemigos es presentada dentro de un contexto cultural bien definido, que da sentido y dignidad a este acto repulsivo. Hay dos posibilidades si se quiere ablandar la condena de la práctica atroz del canibalismo, en el intento de acercar los nuevos súbditos a la civilización. En primer lugar valorando las virtudes guerreras –coraje, dignidad, lealtad y desprecio de la muerte– que caracterizan la venganza de sangre. Muchos autores de la época comparan, por ejemplo, la manera de luchar de los indios a la de los guerreros de la antigüedad, para lograr establecer un lazo de continuidad entre los habitantes al otro lado del mundo y sus compatriotas. La segunda posibilidad, complementaria a la primera, es la de interpretar la vida de los caníbales a la luz de una normatividad basada en un ritual de venganza. A eso se refiere Thevet cuando exclama: “Esos salvajes son maravillosamente vengativos”.38 Ya subrayamos la correspondencia entre la descripción de la ceremonia tupinamba hecha por Thevet, y las prácticas gastronómicas de la vida campesina francesa. En los escritos siguientes, el escritor francés amontona más y más datos 37 El país de los caníbales “divide los países del rey de España con el de Portugal; … Ya que llegamos a esos Caníbales digamos algunas palabras. Ahora, este pueblo, desde el cabo de San Agustín y más allá hasta casi Marignon, es el más cruel e inhumano que en cualquier otra parte de América. Esta canalla come normalmente carne humana, como haríamos nosotros con la carne de montón, y le sacan un gusto aún más grande. Y asegúrense que es hospedar un hombre entre las manos cuando lo tienen, a causa del apetito que tienen de comer como leones famélicos. No hay bestia en los desiertos de África o de Arabia tan cruel, que apetece tan ardientemente la sangre humana, como este pueblo salvaje más que brutal.” André Thevet, “Les Singularités…” 232. Sobre esta tierra de nadie, véase también Emmanuel Lézy, Guyane, Guyanes: Une geographie “sauvage” de l’Orénoque à l’Amazone (París: Belin, 2000). 38 Thevet, “Les Singularités…” 156. 169 Hic Sunt Canibales etnográficos, para mostrar –en una puesta en escena cada vez más espectacular y compleja– el carácter sacrifical del acto antropófago. Antes de que la maten y la devoren, la víctima designada (generalmente un prisionero de guerra) recibe un trato igual al de cualquier otro miembro de la comunidad. Vive con la hija de aquel que lo capturó, recibe un buen trato de los demás miembros del grupo y es alimentado con las viandas más exquisitas. Su muerte no tiene nada a que ver con exigencias de alimentación, sino que hace parte del manejo de la conflictividad entre grupos rivales. La visión de la antropofagia como acto ritual contiene, en forma embrionaria, la idea que detrás del canibalismo haya una motivación religiosa. No cabe duda que la razón profunda de la mórbida fascinación que el acto antropofágico suscita entre los europeos es debida, por lo menos en parte, al hecho de que la religión católica misma está impregnada de la sangre de su propio Dios, centrada sobre el sacrificio expiatorio de la eucaristía. La apertura de Thevet y de sus contemporáneos a un abanico de interpretaciones culturales del fenómeno antropofágico, tiene como consecuencia inesperada la de colocar al caníbal en el corazón de la disputa teológica alrededor de la transubstanciación, que opondrá duramente a católicos y calvinistas en el curso de las guerras religiosas. Uno de los lugares donde el debate se volverá particularmente “encarnizado”, es precisamente en la colonia brasileña de la Francia Antártica, fundada por el caballero de Malta Nicolás Durand de Villegaignon. El relato de la efímera aventura colonial francesa en tierras de Brasil impactó entre otros a Claude Lévi- Strauss, quien en Tristes trópicos lo convirtió en el acontecimiento introductorio del lector en el Nuevo Mundo: Aislados en un continente tan desconocido como un nuevo planeta; completa- mente ignorantes de la naturaleza y de los hombres, incapaces de cultivar la tierra para asegurar su subsistencia, dependientes, en todas sus necesidades de una población incomprensible que, por otra parte, los miraba mal, y asaltados por las enfermedades, ese puñado de franceses que se había expuesto a todos los peligros para huir de las luchas metropolitanas y fundar un hogar donde pudieran coexistir las creencias bajo un régimen de tolerancia y de libertad, se vio apresado en su propia trampa. Los protestantes intentan convertir a los católicos y éstos a los protestantes. En vez de trabajar para subsistir se pasan las semanas en absurdas discusiones: ¿Cómo se debe interpretar la Cena? ¿Hay que mezclar el agua y el vino para la Consagración? La Eucaristía, la administración del Bautismo, proporcionan temas de verdaderos torneos teológicos, a conti- nuación de los cuales Villegaignon avanza o retrocede en su conversión. Hasta se llega a enviar un emisario a Europa para consultar a Calvino y pedirle que redima los puntos en litigio.39 39 Claude Lévi-Strauss, Tristes trópicos (Buenos Aires: Editorial Universitaria, 1970) 69. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 170 El canibalismo desempeña allí un papel de primer plano: en un ambiente percibido como hostil, rodeado de antropófagos tupinamba, se desarrollan los violentos debates teológicos de los europeos sobre el sentido que hay que dar al acto de ingestión de la hostia consagrada durante la misa. Hoc est corpus meum: la interpretación de esta frase hace estallar el conflicto entre Villegaignon y los hugonotes llegados de refuerzo.40 En polémica abierta con los hombres que él mismo hizo venir hasta Brasil en apoyo a su expedición, Villegaignon insiste en defender el dogma de la presencia efectiva y corporal de Cristo en el pan y el vino de la Cena. Los calvinistas, en cambio, se niegan a atribuir un sentido literal a las palabras evangélicas de la misa cristiana, defendiendo una lectura retórica de las Sagradas Escrituras. A sus ojos, Villegaignon y sus acólitos se portan como unos “come-Dios” idólatras, que quieren “No sólo groseramente, más bien espiritual- mente, comer la carne de Jesucristo, peor que esto, a la manera de los salvajes llamados Ou-ëtacas, ellos quieren mascar y tragarse todo crudo.”41 Esta historia, destinada a terminar con un completo fracaso de la colonia y con el apresurado reembarco de los sobrevivientes, nos ha sido transmitida por dos testigos de excepción. En primer lugar el mismo Thevet: durante una breve estancia en la colonia, donde pasó sólo algunas semanas –enfermo la mayor parte del tiempo– el futuro cosmógrafo del rey de Francia va a adquirir un montón de datos etnográficos, recogidos por los exploradores normandos que se habían mezclado con la población indígena. De esta experiencia nacerán las Singularités de la France Antartique, publicado en 1557: un texto extraordinario, considerado como el primer trabajo original en lengua francesa sobre las nuevas tierras de ultramar. Pero tal vez sea Jean de Léry el verdadero protagonista de esta controvertida experiencia tropical. Lestringant muestra de una manera magistral como el canibalismo aparece en la vida de Léry en tres ocasiones, terminando por volverse la obsesión de su vida. La primera ocasión se da en 1557 cuando, desembarcado a los veintiun años en Brasil con los refuerzos enviados desde Ginebra a la colonia de Villegaignon, llega a pasar tres meses con los tupinambas e inclusive a asistir a una ceremonia antropofágica. El terror y la maravilla suscitados por esta experiencia son todavía bien vivos en su memoria escrita que, muchos años después, decidirá consignar a la posteridad.42 40 “Ceci est mon corps: Ceci est mon sang, ne se peuvent autrement prendre sinon que le corps et le sang de Jesus Christ y soyent contenus”. Jean de Léry, Histoire d’un voyage fait en la terre du Brésil, autrement dite Amérique, ed. Michel Contat, posfacio Jean-Claude Wagnières (Lausanne: Bibliothèque Romande, 1992) 73. Pierre Chaunu escribe: “Ahora la cristiandad que está a punto de descubrir este extraño Edén de orígenes olvidadas, se apresta a dividirse alrededor de una palabra, tres letras, Hoc. Hoc est corpus meum. ‘Esto es mi cuerpo’, fundamento de la liturgia eucarística de la Cena.”. Pierre Chaunu, “Introduction”, Le Cannibale…, de Lestringant, 19. 41 Léry, Histoire d’un voyage… 73. 42 Michel de Certeau, que dedica a de Léry una parte fundamental de su L’écriture de l’histoire, comenta: “Peregrinación al revés: lejos de reunirse con el cuerpo referencial de una ortodoxia –la ciudad santa, la tumba, la basílica–, el itinerario parte del centro hacia los bordes, en busca de un 171 Hic Sunt Canibales El segundo episodio llega unos meses más tarde, en la travesía oceánica de regreso a Francia, a causa de una tempestad que los desvía de la ruta establecida. La hambruna pone a prueba la tripulación del navío y el capitán llega a considerar la posibilidad de sacrificar un pasajero para alimentar a sus hombres, luego de haber comido todo lo que había a bordo, ¡inclusive los papagayos y los micos! Dieciséis años más tarde las circunstancias son aún más traumáticas: durante el cerco de la ciudad burguiñona de Sancerre, una pareja viene acusada de haberse comido a su niño muerto, bajo la influencia de una bruja. Léry, principal negocia- dor de la capitulación de la ciudad, no solamente contribuye a la condena de los culpables, quemados en la plaza pública, sino que redije un documento expiatorio sobre el escalofriante acontecimiento, para presentarlo a los asaltantes victoriosos. En los últimos años de su vida Léry intentará integrar esas tres experiencias en una visión de conjunto de carácter universal: en sus escritos el canibalismo se vuelve un emblema, una gran alegoría de la condición humana. Es a partir de esta nueva representación del acto antropofágico como signo que remite a otros vicios (la usura, la crueldad, la ausencia de caridad...) que el caníbal entra en las disputas que agitan al viejo continente. Como los contemporáneos de Thevet no faltaron de observar, el telón de fondo de esta representación es una cosmografía centrada sobre un claro dispositivo de inversión. De Belleforest, por ejemplo, escribe en su homenaje a las "Singularidades”: Otra vez en el Antárticos avances, No una, sino dos Francias semejantes Que sean milagro en el universo. ... De allí surgen tus Antípodas, Los pueblos que acomodas A estos salvajes inhumanos. 43 Tras la variedad caleidoscópica del Universo, la machine à renverser de las antípodas maniobra los espejos del imaginario europeo: “La Francia Antártica – espacio donde encontrar un suelo; trata de construir allá el lenguaje de una convicción nueva – reformada. Al fin de esta investigación, como resultado de este viaje de ida y regreso, aparece la invención del Salvaje”. La irrupción de lo impensado, ed. Francisco Ortega, Cátedra de estudios culturales Michel de Certeau, Cuadernos Pensar en público (Bogotá: Ed. Pontificia Universidad Javeriana, 2004) 154. 43 Oda de F. de Belleforest, en Lestringant, Le Brésil… 315-316, trad. Jairo A. González. Etienne Jodelle, en otra poesía que acompaña la edición de 1557, interpreta de la siguiente manera la relación entre la Francia de acá y la de allá: “Car qui voudrait un peu blâmer / Le Pays qu’il nous faut aimer, / Il trouverait la France Arctique / Avoir plus de monstres, je croi, / Et plus de barbarie en soi / Que n’a pas ta France Antarctique. / Ces barbares marchent tout nus, / Et nous, nous marchons inconnus, / Fardés, masqués. Ce peuple étrange / À la piété ne se range. / Nous la nôtre nous méprisons, / Pipons, vendons et déguisons. / Ces barbares pour se conduire / N’ont pas tant que nous de raison, / Mais qui ne voit que la foison / N’en sert que pour nous entrenuire?”. Thevet, “Les Singularités…” 312-313. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 172 escribe Lestringant– es desde esta perspectiva una Francia al revés. Esa Francia de las antípodas, imagen invertida de su homóloga europea, cuyos ciudadanos van desnudos y –a la mirada del observador– parecen ‘sin fe, sin ley, sin rey’, se define de golpe como una figura del mundo al revés. El Occidente cristiano encuentra su contraprueba entre ‘los más feroces del universo’, donde el canibalismo se practica a diario, y donde el imperativo de continencia sexual es burlado abiertamente.”44 No se trata en absoluto de debates puramente teóricos: el caníbal, reclutado en las antípodas tropicales durante las campañas de colonización, a partir de ese momento va a participar a pleno título en las guerras de religión en Europa. Todas las facciones en lucha encuentran, en las noticias sobre los habitantes del otro Mundo, poderosos argumentos polémicos a favor de sus tesis. Un excelente ejemplo de este uso de la imagen del caníbal es el Nuevo mapamundi papista de 1566, creado y escrito por Jean-Baptiste Trento e ilustrado por Pierre Eskrich.45 El eje de este curioso producto de la propaganda calvinista es el desarrollo riguroso de la metáfora que asimila el acá depravado de la Iglesia corrupta con la obscenidad salvaje del allá caníbal. Un paralelismo fuerte se establece entre lo que él llama el Nuevo Mundo papista y el Nuevo Mundo americano: la provincia de Brasil, habitada por caníbales, es asimilada a la Provincia de la Misa, donde se encuentran sacerdotes teófagos. La transubstanciación es el puente que une la antropofagia de los salvajes con la de los católicos: ambas prácticas abominables, propias de la “monarquía totalmente carnal” de los papas y de sus epígonos en las regiones de ultramar, en franca oposición al viejo mundo virtuoso de los apóstoles y de los primeros mártires cristianos. En el texto que acompaña al mapamundi, Trento escribe: Y luego [los curas, huéspedes de la provincia de la Misa] banquetean y beben de su buen vino, y no comen sino carne, como algunos pueblos de Brasil, llamados Caníbales, que comen carne humana: éstos deben ser de la raza de tales gentes, y deben ser sus descendientes. Porque no comen otra cosa que carne humana, y son muy crueles, y destructores como los Caníbales. .. Todo estos susodichos carniceros, y el pueblo que también acepta tal carne, son como los de la Provincia de la Misa, de esta raza cruel de los caníbales de Brasil, de que se ha hecho mención arriba, los cuales comen carne humana: estos caníbales enviaron algunas tropas de gente a ese país, y dejaron de su raza por todo el mundo papista, de tal manera que hay más caníbales acá a esta hora, y son más crueles y bárbaros que los que son nacidos en Brasil.46 44 Frank Lestringant, “Introduction”, “Les Singularités…”, de Thevet, 29. 45 P. Barber, Segni e sogni della terra. Il disegno del mondo dal mito di Atlante allageografia delle reti. Catalogue de l’exposition homonyme au Palazo Reale, Milan (Milano: de Agostini, 2001) 78. 46 Frank Lestringant, Fictions cosmographiques à la Renaissance en Ecrire le monde à la Renaissance (Caen: Paradigme, 1993) 297-299; publicado también en Philosophical Fictions and the French Renaissance, ed. N. Kenny (Londres: The Warburg Institute, University of London, 1991) 101-25. El estudio de Lestringant pone en evidencia las diferencias entre el texto de Trento y la imagen de Eskrich. 173 Hic Sunt Canibales La monstruosa novedad de un poder papal aliado al salvajismo del otro hemisferio se opone a la verdad eterna del Evangelio. La Iglesia de Roma es a la Iglesia reformada de Cristo como el Nuevo Mundo es al Viejo. Es así que la antropofagia contribuye a ampliar el repertorio de herramientas polémicas, alimentando la naciente leyenda negra antiespañola e inspirando los anatemas de los protestantes contra el Papa Anticristo. El Nuevo mapamundi papista, explí- citamente elaborado con finalidades de manipulación política, establece una clara relación entre uso alegórico de la figura del caníbal e imaginario geográfico. Se puede detectar aquí la eficacia de un saber científico al servicio de la propaganda religiosa, que anuncia un nuevo orden mundial a partir de la teoría de las zonas y del discurso cosmográfico tradicional, un discurso antipódico strictu sensu. El razonamiento geográfico –sostiene Lestringant– permite establecer unas equivalencias morales entre pueblos situados aproximadamente en la misma latitud: Así la analogía entre los soldados del Papa y los conquistadores se ve comprobada gracias a la posibilidad de estas traslaciones según el paralelo. De la misma manera, en buena lógica cosmográfica, la Provincia de la Misa, poblada por carniceros antropófagos que cortan y devoran a mordiscos la carne del Crucificado, aparece como la proyección, por rotación y deslizamiento, del país de los Caníbales, que se extiende de las Antillas al Brasil.47 Rotación y deslizamiento: la machine a renverser de las antípodas está en acción: la ficción cosmográfica se encarga de construir el nuevo continente, y de paso reforma la imagen del viejo. Técnicas imperiales: bloqueo y asimilación La noción de canibalismo pone en marcha unos mecanismos de enajenación con que los europeos toman las distancias con los habitantes del Nuevo Mundo. Son precisamente las costumbres relacionadas a la antropofagia y a los sacrificios humanos que permiten operar una distinción tajante entre el occidente cristiano y los demás pueblos. Estamos frente a prácticas que no forman parte –sino de manera excepcional y patológica– del repertorio de los vicios característicos de la cultura cristiana medieval: contrariamente a la crueldad, a la lujuria e inclusive a la idolatría, la antropofagia es algo irreductible a la experiencia europea. Pero el canibalismo también facilita una comunicación y un acercamiento con la alteridad salvaje. Como destaca Greenblatt, la maravilla frente a las depravadas costumbres de ultramar lleva a una doble actitud: por un lado conduce a lo que él 47 Lestringant, Fictions cosmographiques… 299. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 174 mismo llama un “bloqueo”, es decir, un “orden imaginario de exclusión” a través del cual una cultura se diferencia de las otras; por el otro, permite integrar la horrorosa extrañeza del quintessential alien a las coordenadas simbólicas que le restituyen una forma comprensible, aunque inaceptable.48 Bartolomé de las Casas expresa de manera radical esta tendencia cuando – tratando de matizar el horror provocado por los sacrificios humanos– compara a los aztecas con los primeros mártires cristianos. Y el padre jesuita José de Acosta llega incluso a llamar hostia a la víctima de los sacrificios antropofágicos en México.49 Más allá de la rebuscada (y dudosa) etimología que asocia el término hostia con la expresión ab hoste, en referencia al sacrificio del extranjero enemigo, es evidente que los lectores de Acosta no podían no pensar en el pan eucarístico de la misa. Una asociación fuerte se establece entonces, a un nivel consciente o inconsciente, entre misterio cristiano y ritual indígena. Una atenta labor evangélica puede redimir al otro, el irreduciblemente otro, de sus pecados, para volverlo a traer al seno de la comunidad cristiana. El canibalismo permite asimilar el allá maravilloso al aquí familiar, y a la vez establecer una línea de frontera infranqueable entre la civilización cristiana europea y la barbarie de los indios salvajes. Esta doble operación, de asimilación y de bloqueo, se da gracias a una representación del mundo en términos “antipódicos”. Operando por analogía y por inversión, el dispositivo retórico de las antípodas permite domesticar la inquietante novedad de gentes abominables, moradores de un hemisferio que se presenta como el espejo deformador de la sociedad europea. Es así posible imaginar ese otro mundo –mundus inversus et perversus– sin tener necesariamente que identificarnos: el lenguaje cotidiano puede prestarle sus palabras, bien sea para describir lo indescriptible o para guardar su distancia con respecto a lo que, por definición, se presenta al revés. La Edad del Oro y los hombres de hierro Con Montaigne el hilo del discurso sobre los caníbales se enrolla sobre si mismo, hasta anudarse en la célebre paradoja contenida en el ensayo XXXI del Libro Primero. Es acá que los juegos de inversión alcanzan su clímax, demostrando todo el potencial “revolucionario” del tema de la antropofagia en la redefinición de las fronteras de lo humano. Montaigne nos propone una pirueta, un doble salto mortal que lleva al lector europeo a mirar, cabeza abajo, a los tabúes de su propia cultura. El ensayo se aleja del trato usual que se le venía dando al tema: el mismo término caníbales, utilizado solamente en el título, evoca pesadillas que jamás tomarán 48 La cuestión del canibalismo y de los sacrificios humanos ofrece tal vez el ejemplo más contundente en apoyo a la teoría de Greenblatt sobre la circulación del capital mimético. Véase Greenblatt, Marvelous Possessions… 157-167. 49 Bartolomé de las Casas, “Apologética Historia” (III, 183), La conquista de América… , de Todorov, 195-196. 175 Hic Sunt Canibales consistencia en el texto. El lector ávido de emociones fuertes pueda que quede decepcionado, al no encontrar la evocación de la carnicería tropical o de la caza al ganado humano. Sin embargo la inquietud que se propaga desde el relato, agita la conciencia europea mucho más a fondo que una simple recopilación de horrores. El punto de partida es la relación entre lo natural y lo cultural: “Dice Platón que todas las cosas han sido creadas o por la naturaleza o por el azar o por el arte; las más grandes y más bellas por una de los dos primeros; las menores e imperfectas por el último.”50 Pero al mismo tiempo es el arte de seguir la naturaleza lo que distingue al hombre del salvaje, condenado a ser esclavo de la necesidad natural. Sabios, letrados y cosmógrafos están demasiado empapados de cultura libresca para ser confiables en el arte de descifrar el mundo: por una vez, sostiene Montaigne, hay que dejar la palabra a los simples y a los analfabetas. El fiel doméstico, el sirviente que vivió durante varios años en la Francia Antártica, “ese otro mundo descubierto en nuestro siglo” y los salvajes caníbales que “fueron a Ruán, en la época en que nuestro difunto rey Carlos IX allí estaba”: son ellos los llamados a tener la palabra.51 El servidor, figura retórica de la transparencia discursiva, se refleja en el caníbal, figura retórica de la sencillez salvaje: para reconocerse y encontrarse, ambos hemisferios deberían poder librarse de los artificios del lenguaje y de la cultura y confiar sólo en la verdad desnuda de la naturaleza. Retomando los argumentos de Bartolomé de Las Casas en defensa de la palabra de los indios, Montaigne nos recuerda que la barbarie depende del punto de vista: es una cuestión de corrupción de costumbres más que de costumbres diferentes a las nuestras. El verdadero salvajismo no es jamás el fruto salvaje, sino el fruto natural que ha sido corrompido por los artificios de los hombres. Por ende los habitantes de la Francia Antártica no pueden ser considerados ni bárbaros ni salvajes, ya que ellos viven según natura. Para sustentar este punto –acá está la paradoja– Montaigne invoca el origen cultural, y no natural, del canibalismo. El verdadero salvaje es el antropófago que come a su semejante por necesidad, tal como los europeos en sus ciudades asediadas, o el que quema a sus enemigos todavía vivos, utilizando prácticas culturales corrompidas y degeneradas: Estimo que hay mayor barbarie en el hecho de comer un hombre vivo que en comerlo muerto, en desgarrar con torturas y tormentos un cuerpo sensible aún, asarlo poco a poco, dárselo a los perros y a los cerdos para que lo muerdan y los despedacen (cosa que no sólo hemos leído sino también visto recientemente, no entre viejos enemigos sino entre vecinos y conciudadanos y lo que es peor, so pretexto de piedad y religión), que asarlo y comerlo después de muerto.52 50 Michel de Montaigne, Ensayos, Libro I, (Madrid: Cátedra, 1996) 268. 51 Montaigne, Ensayos… 263 y 277. 52 Montaigne, Ensayos… 272. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 176 Por el contrario el que devora por venganza, en una lucha desinteresada en campo abierto con un enemigo de su talla, es digno de nuestra admiración y de nuestro respeto ya que, siguiendo su cultura, sólo obedece a la Madre Naturaleza. Montaigne lleva al límite la representación, derivada de Léry y de Thevet, de un canibalismo fundado sobre la venganza, es decir, sobre la importancia del signo y del valor simbólico del acto, más que sobre las exigencias alimenticias.53 El nudo se cierra: el “ser más inhumano” asume la postura del buen salvaje, cual habitante contemporáneo de la Edad de Oro sobre la Tierra. El caníbal americano, una vez desmentida su reputación abominable, permite retorcer la acusación de salvajismo en contra de los europeos. Ya Chaveunot, una de las principales fuentes de Montaigne, había acusado a los españoles: “llevaron allí hierro, y han producido el oro, que ha causado diez mil males.”54 Son los conquistadores –hombres de la edad de hierro, “guarnecidos de una piel reluciente y dura”– los verdaderos salvajes que están devastando la tierra de la Edad del Oro. Los verdaderos caníbales somos nosotros. En los Essaies se cumple la metamorfosis que transforma al antropófago contranatura de la tradición pliniana, en el salvaje libre, que vive según las leyes naturales. La distancia entre los abominables Scitas de Mandevila y los brasileños orgullosos de Montaigne no podría ser más vasta. En una versión española de los célebres viajes, leemos: “De aquesta isla va hombre a una provincia llamada Sitia en la qual ay un valle muy grande y muy hermoso que se llama en griego ‘Antropophagos’, y ay unas gentes que tienen los pies al revés de nosotros y son grandes corredores y andan siempre entre las bestias salvages.”55 Según la “lógica antipódica” de Mandevila, más nos alejamos del ombligo del Mundo (idealmente representado por Jerusalén), más nos adentramos en provincias caóticas y trastocadas, en donde tanto las leyes morales como las naturales van perdiendo vigencia. Al otro lado del Orbe viven bestiales sitios con los pies al revés, representación literal de los antípodas: es allá donde el antropófago –figura extrema de la alteridad cultural– se une al monstruo –figura extrema de la alteridad natural.56 También para Montaigne, el brasileño antro- pófago marca el punto más alejado de nuestra civilización. Pero la diferencia es contundente: en el ensueño medieval, todavía bien arraigado en la Europa del siglo XVI, podemos conciliar naturaleza y cultura a través del mirabilia del exótico monstruoso, mientras que al alba de la modernidad hay que buscar un nuevo equilibrio entre los dos términos. 53 “Esto no es, como podría creerse, para alimentarse, tal y como hacían antaño los escitas; sino como símbolos de extrema venganza.” Montaigne, Ensayos… 272. 54 En Marcel de Battaillon, “Plus Oultre: La cour découvre le Nouveau Monde”, Les Fêtes…, 359. 55 Juan de Mandevilla, Libro de las maravillas del mundo, Libro 2, capítulo X (Valencia, 1540). 56 La expresión antipodal logic con referencia a Mandevilla es tomada de Greenblatt, Marvelous Possessions… 213. 177 Hic Sunt Canibales Este equilibrio posiblemente está escondido entre los pliegues –y las trampas– del lenguaje. Montaigne parece indicar una vía de salida en la poesía, llegando incluso a comparar –homenaje supremo para un humanista– la lengua de los caníbales con el griego. El paralelo entre los salvajes y los antiguos podría ser la ocasión de reunir los dos hemisferios alrededor del ideal de una lengua común. Una lengua de los orígenes, edénica: “Su lenguaje por otra parte, es dulce y de agradable sonido, parecido a las terminaciones griegas”.57 Pero Montaigne no se contenta con una visión tan irónica y, a través de una intuición genial, introduce una norma semántica para explicar el modo en el que los caníbales conciben el mundo: Dijeron que en primer lugar hallaban muy estraño que tantos hombres grandes y fuertes, barbados y armados, como rodeaban al rey (parece ser que hablaban de su guardia suiza) se sometieran y obedecieran a un niño, en lugar de elegir mejor a alguno de ellos para mandar; en segundo (tienen una manera de hablar tal que llaman a los hombres mitad unos de otros) que habían observado que había entre nosotros, hombres ricos y colmados de toda suerte de comodidades mientras sus mitades mendigaban a sus puertas, descarnados de hambre y pobreza; y que hallaban estraño que esas mitades menesterosas pudieran sufrir tal injusticia sin acogotar a los otros y sin pegar fuego a sus casas.58 Los habitantes de las antípodas no pueden sino hablar un lenguaje antipódico, es decir un lenguaje edificado alrededor de oposiciones invertidas. El mundo es compartido a mitades: los jóvenes se refieren a su mitad vieja, los ricos a su mitad pobre y, por supuesto, la mitad civilizada a la mitad salvaje. Cada lenguaje traduce una visión del mundo radicalmente diferente: no basta con establecer una relación ideal entre nosotros y nuestra mitad a las antípodas, el problema de ahora en adelante será el de la traducción, condición indispensable para comunicarse. De repente la familiaridad presumida desaparece, y una barrera infranqueable vuelve a separarnos de los caníbales, que abandonaron “la dulzura de su cielo, para venir a ver el nuestro”. El encuentro final del autor con los tres brasileños acaba en un fracaso decepcionante: “Hablé largo tiempo con uno de ellos; mas tenía un interprete que me seguía tan mal y era tan necio e inepto para entender mis ideas que no pudo disfrutar con él.”59 La ignorancia, celebrada al principio del ensayo como garantía de verdad, termina siendo otra vez un obstáculo invencible. La misma lengua universal que prometía acercar los dos lados del mundo, traicionó las esperanzas y no permite la comprensión recíproca: la ilusión de una comunicación natural mediante la poesía no resiste a este intento de diálogo entre Francia ártica y Francia antártica. La 57 Montaigne, Ensayos…277. 58 Montaigne, Ensayos…277-278. Cursivas mías. 59 Montaigne, Ensayos…278, Libro I, capítulo XXXI. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 178 cultura, por boca de uno de sus representantes más prestigiosos, se declara, al mismo tiempo, indispensable e inadecuada a la tarea. Las dos mitades de la humanidad se hablan, pero no se comprenden. Commonwealth by contraries Entre los siglos XVI y XVII el caníbal, aunque reducido a cautividad, no deja de agitar la inquieta conciencia de sus dominadores europeos. Vencido en el teatro de la guerra del Nuevo Mundo, el caníbal triunfa en los teatros del viejo continente, dónde el tema trágico de la venganza tiene una enorme fortuna.60 Entre la vasta producción dramática, que hace referencia de una u otra forma al canibalismo, la Tempestad de Shakespeare merece un lugar aparte, no sólo por la notoriedad de la pieza, sino también por el ulterior deslizamiento semántico que se opera en la historia de nuestro sujeto. En la Tempestad vemos, según Greenblatt “el encuentro asombroso entre una cultura letrada y una cultura iletrada que es enfatizado, casi parodiado, en la relación entre un europeo cuyo poder deriva de su biblioteca y un salvaje que no tenía ningún lenguaje antes de la llegada de los europeos.”61 Al mismo tiempo, el teatro se insinúa en la tríada sirviente-sabio-salvaje, consagrándoles una nueva arma: la imagen. Un arma tan poderosa como el lenguaje e igualmente mal repartida entre los personajes.62 La imagen juega así un papel decisivo en las relaciones de poder: no basta con poseer una biblioteca, hay que saber manipular el guardarropa, sus máscaras y sus trajes. 63 Montaigne aprovecha las potencialidades paradójicas implícitas en una Francia al revés, desarrollándolas alrededor de un eje temporal dominado por los contrastes escritura-oralidad, alteración-simplicidad, verdad-mentira. Shakespeare organiza más bien un torbellino de inversiones alrededor de un eje espacial, la isla, que permite poner en escena las mismas parejas de oposiciones. La isla opera como un poderoso apparato escénico para producir mundos posibles, es una máquina generadora de inversiones que mezcla y recompone las intrigas, las perspectivas, los personajes… En los Essaies, es un interés geográfico que se niega a hacerse cosmografía y se hace relato. En la Tempestad, es una historia de genealogías que 60 Recordamos entre otras las tragedias de Agrippa, Aubigné, Antoine Favre y Pierre Mainfaray. 61 Citado en J. Pieters, “Gazing at the Borders of The Tempest”, Constellation Caliban, Figurations of a character, eds. Nadia Lee y Theo d’Haen (Amsterdam-Atlanta: Rodopi, 1997), trad. pers. Véase también Stephen Greenblatt, Shakespearean Negotiations: The circulation of Social Energy in Renaissance England (Oxford: Clarendon, 1990). 62 Si Próspero se arroga los poderes de director, Trinculo y Stephano son guitti por vocación, y Calibán tiene un talento natural de bufón deforme. Cada uno utiliza a plenas manos todo tipo de disfraces e ilusionismo en sus relaciones con los demás. 63 “This was well done, my bird./ Thy shape invisible retain thou still:/ The trumpery in my house, go bring it hither, / For stale to catch these thieves”. W. J. Craig, ed., The complete works of William Shakespeare (London-New York-Toronto: Oxford University Press, 1947) 184-187. Act IV, Scene I. 179 Hic Sunt Canibales 64 La expresión “le vertige de l’autre” es de J. Burgos, “Le monstre, même et autre”, Présence du monstre: Mythe et réalité (París: Lettres modernes, 1975) 17. 64 Véase W. Strachey, “A true Reportory of the Wracke and Redeption of sir Thomas Gates”, Knight (1610), Narrative and dramatic sources of Shakespeare, ed. G. Bullough, vol. 8 (London-New York: Routledge, 1975). Una fugaz referencia a las Bermudas también en Act 1, Scene 2, v. 239. 65 William Shakespeare, The Tempest, The complete works… 60-137. Palfrey se refiere a la isla como a la “isla-manzana”. Véase Simon Palfrey, Late Shakespeare: A new world of words (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1997) 138-145. 66 “Gonzalo: Who would believe that there were mountaineers / Dew-lapp’s like bulls, whose throats had hanging at them / Wallets of flesh? or that there were such men / Whose heads stood in their breasts? which now we find / Each putter-out of five for one will bring us / Good warrant of.” En Shakespeare, The Tempest…, Act III, scene 3, 44-48. Véanse también las analogías con la escena de Astolfo en el banquete del Preste Juan en Italo Calvino, Orlando Furioso di Ludovico Ariosto raccontato da Italo Calvino (Milano: Mondadori, 1995). 67 “Gonzalo: And where the king on’t, what would I do ? / Sebastian: ‘Scape being drunk for want of wine / Gonzalo: I’the commonwealth I would by contraries / Execute all things. For no kind of traffic / Would I admit, no name of magistrate; / Letters should not be Known; riches, poverty / And use of service, none. Contract, succession, / Bourn, bound of land, tilth, vineyard, none; / No use of metal, corn, or wine, or oil; / No occupation: all men idle, all ; / And women too, but innocent se hace geografía de una isla imaginaria. Dos maneras de contar el mundo, pero ambas basadas sobre un mismo dispositivo retórico que nos proyecta en el “vértigo del otro”.64 La mayoría de los estudios filológicos sitúan la isla de Calibán en proximidad de las islas de los caníbales de los planisferios de la época, en consideración al hecho de que Shakespeare parece haberse inspirado en el milagroso retorno de los marineros del Sea Venture, naufragado en las Bermudas. Pero, más allá de la dudosa identificación geográfica, todas estas islas forman parte del mismo archi- piélago del imaginario. Lugar encantado, heredero de un modelo narrativo ya puesto a prueba en las novelas de caballerías, la isla shakespeariana es en realidad una encrucijada de mitos antipódicos. Cada grupo de naúfragos explora la isla como si fuera un topos literario. Para los dos enamorados Ferdinando y Miranda, versión renacentista de Adán y Eva, la isla no es más que un paraíso a la manera de los clásicos.65 Al Rey de Nápoles y a sus cortesanos –en su desmesurada hambre de poder– la isla se les presenta como un suntuoso banquete, animado de extravagantes figuras plinianas, que evoca las gestas de Alejandro y los emperadores romanos.66 La llegada de Ariel disfrazado de arpía interrumpe bruscamente la escena, evocando el tema de la vacuidad de todo sueño imperial. Al otro lado de la isla, otra inversión. El encuentro del bufón Trinculo y del despensero borracho Stephano con Calibán –que los toma por dioses– ofrece la ocasión de un extraordinario paso carnavalesco, donde la leyenda negra de la conquista es contada con el lenguaje cómico-grotesco de la commedia dell' arte. Mientras que los marinos se pierden detrás del imaginario del país de Cucaña, el viejo y honrado Consejero Gonzalo evoca una Edad de Oro tomada de los antiguos, que él mismo llama Commonwealth by contraries.67 ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 180 Commonwealth by contraries: vale la pena detenerse sobre esta expresión shakespeareana. El ensueño de Gonzalo en la isla encantada es el puente entre la doctrina clásica (ya en crisis, como nos recuerdan los irónicos comentarios de Antonio y Sebastián) y el pensamiento utópico, que se encuentra todavía en estado embrionario.68 La palabra inglesa commonwealth hace referencia, ya sea al producto común de una naturaleza generosa o al arte del gobierno; resume el ideal colectivo tan extendido en la época y, al mismo tiempo, preconiza la influencia colonial del futuro Imperio británico. Su aplicación ab contrario, permite imaginar una sociedad ideal en una isla perdida al otro lado del mundo, inspirada según los casos en el Carnaval o la Utopía, en la Edad de Oro o en el Imperio Universal… La isla de la Tempestad permite, pues, manipular las representaciones de un mundo en tumultuosa transformación, suministrando al mismo tiempo las instruc- ciones de ensamblaje y el material imaginario. Frente a un Cosmos que se va dilatando a desmesura, abre la posibilidad de volver a inventar la imagen de Europa, ofreciendo ya sea las reglas de juego –el mecanismo de múltiples inversiones– o bien las piezas del juego –el bagaje imaginario sobre el más allá–. Este juego de oposiciones entre autoridad y alteridad, entre la fuerza centrípeta de la identidad y la fuerza centrífuga en la alteridad radical convergen –en el curso de una vertigi- nosa inversión final– en las palabras de Miranda, que cree reconocer, en los náufragos, la humanidad afortunada del Nuevo Mundo: –Miranda: ¡Oh, maravilla! ¡Cuántos hermosos seres veo aquí! ¡Qué bella es la humanidad! ¡Oh, qué nuevo y espléndido mundo que alberga a tales gentes! Próspero : Nuevo te parece a ti…69 Las bellas criaturas de este brave new world no son sino los gentilhombres de la vieja Europa. Una vez conquistada, la isla de Calibán va a ser la tabula rasa sobre la cual arquitectos, políticos y letrados dibujarán los mapas de Utopía. Serán “las bellas criaturas” recién desembarcadas de Europa, y no los feroces caníbales, quienes se volverán sus ciudadanos. and pure ; / No sovereignty,- / Sebastian: Yet he would be king on’t. / Antonio: The latter end of his commonwealth forgets its beginning. / Gonzalo: All things in common nature should produce / Without sweat or endeavour: treason, felony, / Sword, pike, knife, gun, or need of any engine, / Would I not have; but nature should bring forth / Of its own kind, all foison, all abundance, / To feed my innocent people. / Sebastian: No marrying ‘mong his subjets? / Antonio: None, man; all idle; whores and knaves. / Gonzalo: I would with such perfection govern, sir, / to excel the golden age.” En Shakespeare, The Tempest…, 1493, Act I, scene 2. 68 A propósito de la relación entre la isla de la Tempestad y la isla de Utopía, véase Massimo Cacciari, “Introducción”, New Atlantis, Nova Atlantide, Nova Atlantis, de Francis Bacon (Milano, 1995). 69 “Miranda: O wonder! How many goodly creatures are there here! How beauteous /mankind is! O brave new world, that has such people in’t! /Prospero: ‘Tis new to thee.” Shakespeare, The Tempest…, 1522, Act V, scene 1, v. 182-184. 181 Hic Sunt Canibales El Edén perdido de Calibán En la isla shakespeariana los personajes venidos de Europa movilizan un complejo mecanismo de representación –una circulación mimética, para utilizar la terminología de Greenblatt– que les permite domesticar a su habitante, el salvaje Calibán.70 Este proceso de domesticación –que hay que comprender en su doble acepción, de subyugar y de volver familiar– tiene una primera expresión en el bautismo, ya sea en un sentido propiamente religioso o no. El poder de dar los nombres a las cosas y a las personas es un poder de apropiación sobre el Mundo, como lo manifiesta la obsesión nominalista de los conquistadores. Antes de encontrar a Próspero, Calibán no sabía nombrar el mundo.71 Es, pues, legítimo sospechar que haya sido el maestro quien le dio a su aprendiz un apodo tan despreciativo: Ca-li-bán. El feroz salvaje, hijo de una bruja, antaño señor y único habitante de la isla, no sólo es humillado por las artes mágicas de Próspero al rango de sirviente-monstruo: en seguida es reducido, mediante un juego simple de inversión de letras, a la caricatura de sí mismo. El caníbal se hace Calibán: un juego de palabras que exorciza el miedo del monstruo. La magia de Setebos y Sycotrax no puede nada contra la del Duque de Milán: mediante la permutación de las letras de su nombre, el rey Caníbal se hace Calibán, abhorred slave, vituperio deforme, blasfemia de la natura, monstruosa alteración del cuerpo y de la palabra: condenado a vivir como una bestia de carga. El arma poderosa del lenguaje transforma las relaciones de poder. Calibán tuvo acceso a la palabra oral, pero no al lenguaje escrito, que él reconoce como aquello que marca la diferencia.72 En Shakespeare, como en Montaigne, el lenguaje no es sólo una barrera, sino también el más poderoso de los instrumen- tos de dominación sobre los habitantes del otro hemisferio. Pero si en el ensayo de Montaigne la misión civilizadora consiste en enseñar el a, b, c –a este otro mundo niño– y en preservarlo de la contaminación de nuestros hábitos corruptos, para Próspero es cierto lo contrario: un tratamiento paritario del habitante del otro mundo no puede sino aportar peligros a la sociedad, ya que la naturaleza salvaje de estas gentes les impide recibir la enseñanza civilizado- ra sin estropearla. A las antípodas de Europa no hay viri a diis recentes, hombres justos salidos de las manos de Dios, sino más bien un despilfarro de materia bruta, “thing most brutish”. Allá no hay un mundo niño, sino un mundo decrépito, donde la 70 Pieters, “Gazing at the Borders…” 68, trad. pers. Véase también Stephen Greenblatt, Renaissance Self-fashioning from More to Shakespeare (Chicago-London: University of Chicago Press, 1980) 9. 71 “Caliban: Thou strok’dst me, and mad’st much of me; woulsdst give me / Water with berries in‘t; and teach me how / To name the bigger light and how the less, / That Burn by day and night, and then I lov’d thee”. Shakespeare, The Tempest… 1484, scene 2, 335-338. 72 “Remember / First to possess his books; for without them / He’s but a sot, as I am, nor hath not / One spirit to command: they all do hate him / As rootedly as I. Burn but his books.” Shakespeare, The Tempest… 1506, Act III, scene 2, 102-106. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 182 decadencia avanza como un cáncer.73 El terror del contagio impregna esta relación: Próspero prohibe al salvaje tocar a su hija, ya que su peor pesadilla es la de tener la isla infestada de péquenos calibanes. Calibán, por su parte, también maldice el lenguaje, asimilándolo a un contagio: Calibán: ¡Tu me enseñaste a hablar, pero me sirve tan solo para maldecir. Que se te lleve la peste roja por haberme enseñado tu lenguaje!74 La alternativa a la implacable acción civilizadora de Próspero sobre el salvajismo de la isla y de su autóctono habitante es la de los dos napolitanos, Stephano y Trinculo –versión burlesca de los conquistadores españoles–. La efímera alianza subversiva entre sirvientes iletrados y salvaje analfabeta –una amenaza potencial para el tercero excluido, el sabio– se basa en la blasfemia, es decir, en el uso perverso de la palabra. Los tres la sellan bajando la botella como juramento: Here, kiss the book.75 El gesto sacrílego reivindica la dignidad de la gestualidad y de la oralidad frente a la escritura. La botella contra la Biblia, la borrachera en la taberna contra el sermón en la Iglesia, Don Carnaval contra doña Cuaresma: los dos marineros –según parece– no soportan el Libro mejor que Calibán. Stephano introduce al salvaje en el imaginario de la fiesta popular, del mundo cabeza abajo y patas arriba, una de las formas más poderosas de resistencia frente a los abusos de los poderosos. Sin embargo, el trato que el improvisado “Oráculo de la Botella” reserva para Calibán, recién convertido a la nueva idolatría, es inclusive peor que la sujeción a Próspero. Si las fórmulas mágicas de Próspero lo mantienen esclavo, los frizzi e lazzi, las vulgaridades y las imprecaciones de los dos napolitanos lo ridiculizan. El lenguaje cómico de Trinculo y Stephano en efecto no es un “bajar” grotesco en el sentido de Bachtine, sino se fija más bien en la irrisión sarcástica. Mientras que el primer mecanismo tiene un poder regenerador, el segundo sólo es destructivo. Calibán pierde entonces los poderes del cuerpo grotesco, este cuerpo que nace y que muere, que devora y que es devorado, que se traga el mundo y que es tragado, en una metamorfosis cósmica continua.76 El monstruo, ya reducido a cautividad, corre el riesgo de ser castrado, como se hace con el cerdo. Caído en manos de gente ignorante, grotesca y brutal, el caníbal Calibán es destronado una segunda 73 Shakespeare, The Tempest… 1485, Act I, Scene 2, 363-365. 74 “You taught me language; and my profit on’t / Is, I know how to curse: the red plague rid you, / For learning me your language!”. Shakespeare, The Tempest… 1485, Act I, scene 2, 363-365. 75 Shakespeare, The Tempest… 1485, Act II, Scene 2, v.139. 76 “Le corps grotesque est un corps en mouvement. Il n’est jamais prêt ni achevé: il est toujours en état de construction, de création et lui-même construit un autre corps; de plus, ce corps absorbe le monde et est absorbé par ce dernier.” Mikkaïl Bakhtine, L’œuvre de François Rabelais et la culture populaire au Moyen Age et sous la Renaissance, trad. A. Robel (París: Gallimard, 1970) 315. 183 Hic Sunt Canibales vez: antaño Señor de la isla reducido a sirviente, ahora rey de Cucaña humillado como simple comparsa cómica.77 La violencia y el sarcasmo degradante enajenan al salvaje, exponiéndolo a un ulterior nivel de explotación, ya no como sujeto feudal sino como mero objeto de cambio comercial. A la maravilla del encuentro con un ser tan extraño, sigue de inmediato el deseo de exhibirlo bajo pagamento en las ferias inglesas. Así como el secuestro de indios es una práctica casi rutinaria para las expediciones europeas de la época, el secuestro de Calibán es la primera idea de varios de los personajes de la Tempestad: Stephano y Trinculo tratan de embriagar a Calibán para domesticar- lo y venderlo a módico precio, mientras que la simple aparición del monstruo en el acto V desencadena la avidez de Antonio y de Sebastián.78 A través del proceso de sumisión lingüística y corporal, de ridiculización y enajenamiento a fines de lucro, el pobre caníbal se vuelve un verdadero fenómeno de circo, deforme y borracho, bueno en última instancia para ser vendido y comprado en el mercado del exotismo de moda. Los libros de Próspero están siendo reemplazado por los libros contables de los vendedores de esclavos. Tarde o temprano, el cinismo materialista de Sebastián y Antonio va a tomar el lugar de la autoridad patriarcal de Próspero, todavía prestada a una ideología de carácter feudal. El mecanismo de asimilación y de bloqueo está en marcha: la mirada asombrada permite transformar “radicalmente otro” en “casi semejante”, pero el reconocimiento del otro lleva a su objetivación inmediata. El monstruo enajenado se volvió un alien para mostrar. Huellas en la playa La hipótesis de una antropofagia de honor y de venganza que había encontrado en el brasileño de Montaigne su defensor más elocuente, tampoco resistirá a la decadencia de los ideales aristocráticos, frente a una visión del mundo cada vez más enfocada hacia los nuevos valores burgueses. La vasta tradición imaginaria relacionada al caníbal orgulloso, que vive según natura, va a desembocar en el mito del buen salvaje, en la base de la antropología moderna. Como indica Le Goff, “la Edad Media prepara también todo lo que es necesario para la acogida del buen 77 Calibán está constantemente sujeto a juegos de inversión satírica: ex caníbal, inclusive llamado “puppy-headed” (es decir cinocéfalo, o más precisamente “cachorro-céfalo”), terminara mordido por una manada de perros. 78 “Were I in England now –as once I was–, and had but this fish painted, not a holiday fool there but would give a piece of silver: there would this monster make a man; any strange beast there makes a man. When they will not give a doit to relieve a lame beggar, they will lay out ten to see a dead Indian.” W. Shakespeare, The Tempest ..., 1498, Act II, scene 2, 29-35. También: “What things are these, my lord Antonio? / Will money buy them? / Very like, one of them / Is a plain fish and, no doubter, marketable.” Shakespeare, The Tempest… 1524, Act V, scene 1, 264-266. Sobre los personajes de Sebastiano y Antonio, véase Palfrey, Late Shakespeare:… ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 184 salvaje: un milenarismo que espera un regreso a la Edad de Oro; la convicción que el progreso histórico, si existe, se hace a golpes de renacimientos, de retornos a un primitivismo inocente.”79 En ambientes misioneros se enseñará por mucho tiempo a cultivar la idea de la antropofagia como hecho simbólico, basado en una lógica vengativa y en unas estructuras rituales especificas según el contexto cultural. Sin embargo, la corrien- te dominante en el pensamiento moderno propenderá más bien por la hipótesis de una antropofagia de necesidad. A partir de Cardan, la filosofía natural acredita la imagen del canibalismo como una exigencia nutritiva mascarada de una ritualidad salvaje, típica de gente aún esclava de una naturaleza que no sabe dominar. La visión materialista de Cardan –que busca en la falta de carne roja en el nuevo continente la razón de ser de odios y guerras perpetuas que afligen a los indios– va a ser explotada a fondo por los pensadores de los siglos siguientes. La encontramos por ejemplo en las opiniones de los enciclopedistas, sobre todo en Diderot y Voltaire. En un diálogo inspirado en una pequeña isla recién descubierta en los mares del sur, en la cual una población numerosa sería obligada a cohabitar en un espacio excesivamente reducido, Diderot llega a la conclusión que “ellos se exterminan y se comen; de ahí quizás una primera época muy antigua y muy natural de la antropofagia, insular en su origen”.80 En la modernidad, el canibalismo se vuelve entonces el caso límite de un modelo de relaciones cuantitativas entre población y territorio. Se aplica a los salvajes de los mares australes, obligados a desenvolverse en un medio natural hostil, pero en principio es aplicable también a todo el genero humano. De Pauw, trazando un balance del proceso de expansión de los europeos, agranda la obsesión de ser devorado a una escala intercontinental. Los papeles sin embargo están invertidos, es el viejo continente que se come al nuevo: ¿Cual físico de la Antigüedad hubiera jamás supuesto que en un mismo Planeta hubiera dos Hemisferios tan diferentes, del cual uno sería vencido, subyugado y como engullido por el otro, desde que este último fue conocido, luego de un lapso de siglos que se pierden en la noche y en el abismo de los tiempos?81 Homo homini lupus: Hobbes lo volverá la piedra millar de su estado de natura, mientras a finales del siglo XVIII, el reverendo Malthus se tomara la responsabi- 79 Jacques Le Goff, “El historiador y el hombre cotidiano”, L’historien entre l’ethnologue et le futurologue (Mouton, 1973) 240. Citado en Ortega, La irrupción de lo impensado… 183. 80 D. Diderot, Supplément au voyage de Bougainville, eds. J. Varloot y N. Evrad, folio I, (París: Gallimard) 287, citado en Lestringant, Le cannibale… 237. 81 Cornelius de Pauw, “Recherches philosophiques sur les Américains”, citado en Lestringant, Le cannibale… 256-257. Sobre De Pauw, véase también Gerbi, La disputa… 117-218. Según Greenblatt, la conquista es la más grande experiencia de canibalismo político, económico y cultural en la historia del mundo occidental. 185 Hic Sunt Canibales lidad de ampliar las consecuencias demográficas del razonamiento de Diderot al planeta entero, con una mirada especial para las naciones en vía de industrializa- ción. La antropofagia ya no es reducible a un simple acto de un ritualismo exótico entre la variedad de las costumbres humanas, sino que tiende a convertirse en norma biológica generalizada de nuestra especie, que solo la civilización europea puede contrastar de manera eficaz. Robinson Crusoe es quizás el ejemplo más contundente de esta tenaz y continua obsesión del fantasma antropófago en la cultura europea. Las aventuras del personaje de Defoe –nuevo héroe del individualismo liberal y ejemplo paradigmático de la ideología colonial moderna– se presentan como un verdadero resumen de las etapas principales de nuestro viaje alrededor de la figura del caníbal en el imaginario europeo. Como Colón, Robinson deduce la presencia de salvajes devoradores de carne humana sin antes haber encontrado ni siquiera un signo de su presencia en la isla. Si los primeros exploradores europeos del Nuevo Mundo proyectaban sobre las tierras desconocidas las reminiscencias librescas de Plinio, de Mandevila, y de las novelas de caballerías, Robinson prevé el encuentro con los caníbales a partir de los mismos relatos de la conquista. El descubrimiento fortuito de una huella de pie que no es suya, no hace sino confirmar una convicción ya hace tiempos arraigada, la proyección en el más allá geográfico de un miedo europeo profundo. Después de quince años de soledad, por fin hay razón de creer que hay alguien más en la isla, y la reacción de Robinson es verdaderamente desconcertante: ¡no puede imaginar al otro sino como peligroso antropófago! Los autóctonos son concebidos en términos de sangrante desnudez, inclusive mucho antes de haber tenido contacto alguno con ellos. Para tratar de entender esta actitud, vale la pena seguirlo en su minuciosa observación de los signos de la presencia del otro. Después de un comprensible pánico inicial, Robinson vuelve a encontrar su lucidez y su sangre fría, y se devuelve a la playa, para examinar la huella: … no podía convencerme completamente de eso hasta que no bajara a la playa a ver aquella huella, medirla con mi pie y comprobar la semejanza, para estar seguro de que era mía. Pero al regresar a aquel sitio comprobé que cuando anclé el bote no podía de ningún modo haber pisado tierra por allí. En segundo lugar, cuando medí la huella con mi pie, vi que este era mucho más pequeño. Ambas verificaciones me llenaron la cabeza de nuevas confusiones y me aturdieron de nuevo en grado sumo, de modo que sentí escalofríos como si tuviera fiebre, y volví a casa firmemente convencido de que alguno o varios hombres habían estado en aquella playa; o, en una palabra, que la isla estaba habitada y que podía verme sorprendido en cualquier momento. Qué hacer para mi seguridad, no se me ocurría.82 82 Daniel Defoe, Robinson Crusoe (Barcelona: Bruguera, 1970). ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 186 El otro ha dejado una huella. Ha manifestado su presencia a través de una huella, un calco de pie en la arena: la sombra de un pie, un pie al revés. El encuentro con este pie al revés anuncia el encuentro con los antípodas. Primero, se trata de un pie desnudo, es decir de un pie salvaje. Supera además en una buena medida la talla del pie del protagonista. A través de un torbellino de asociaciones de ideas, disfrazadas de razonamientos, Robinson llega a persuadirse (y a persuadir a sus lectores) que ese salvaje desnudo y desmesurado que vive en las antípodas, no puede ser otra cosa que un feroz caníbal. Los signos se van pronto a multiplicar, a la escalofriante huella en la playa se añaden otras “marks of horror”, cada vez más corporales, mas tangibles. Las dos escenas que siguen en la novela parecen sacadas directamente del De Orbe Novo de Pedro Martyr: otra vez nos encontramos con los restos de un banquete caníbal en la playa y con la caza al ganado humano, en ocasión de la fuga de uno de los prisioneros de sus guardianes cocineros. El hambre pantagruélica de estas criaturas ávidas de sangre se expresa in “inhumaine feastings”, como él puede consta con ocasión de su primer contacto con ellos: Vi entonces no menos de nueve desnudos salvajes sentados alrededor de una pequeña hoguera que habían encendido, no para calentarse, puesto que no tenían necesidad de ello, ya que hacía un tiempo muy caluroso, sino para preparar, según mi suposición, alguna de sus bárbaras comilonas de carne humana que habrían traído con ellos, ignoraba si viva o muerta.83 Una vez más al terror le sigue el cálculo: la razón le permite controlar sus fantasmas, enfocarlos hacia una estrategia precisa, a partir de un juicio categó- rico sobre el origen del fenómeno. No puede tratarse sino de una salvajería bestial, provocada por una exigencia nutritiva. Supone, pero hay un problema: ¿como vencer a los salvajes sin volverse como ellos? La lucha del naufrago inglés es doble, con el otro y consigo mismo: civilizar el salvaje sin convertirse el mismo en wild man.84 Robinson traza a este punto otra distinción fundamental, entre la misión civilizadora de la colonización inglesa y la execrable devastación llevada a cabo por los conquistadores españoles, que rivalizan con los caníbales en crueldad y gusto morboso por la sangre. La rivalidad entre Inglaterra y España, bien presente en la cabeza de Defoe hombre político, reaparece en la de Defoe novelista, bajo forma de un furor que recuerda las polémicas alrededor de la eucaristía de las guerras de religión del siglo XVI. Confortada su consciencia puritana por la complacencia divina, que se manifiesta en un sueño premonitorio, Robinson se decide y va al asalto de los salvajes. Dios está con él: logra poner en fuga a los 83 Defoe, Robinson…189. 84 Véase B. Baert, “Caliban as a Wild Man: An Iconographical Approach”, Constellation Caliban… 187 Hic Sunt Canibales salvajes, dejando dos de ellos en el piso y liberando a uno de sus prisioneros. Con el rescate del caníbal, prontamente domesticado, se propone de nuevo el diálogo entre el sabio y el salvaje. Un sabio que, en el siglo XVIII, ya no se identifica con el cosmógrafo, el humanista o el mago alquimista, sino más bien con el nuevo héroe burgués: el hombre práctico, el que es capaz de dominar la naturaleza con las herramientas de la ciencia y de la técnica, y de transformar el salvaje en hombre civilizado a través de la educación.85 Defoe presenta este antagonismo en una óptica maniquea que trunca todo nudo, toda paradoja y toda duda identitaria. Fe y razón, catequismo y dieta alimentaria, aliadas entre ellas, van a triunfar sobre esos seres sin Dios que comen carne humana, ¡inclusive durante la Cuaresma!. Es seguramente para celebrar el día de su liberación, pero quizás también por exorcizar su amor por la abominable comida, que al salvaje domesticado se le bautiza con el inusual nombre de Viernes, día del sacrificio del Señor en que está prohibido comer carne. La isla de Robinson es entonces el epígono moderno de todo el archipiélago de islas de los caníbales a las antípodas de Europa, de la isla de Coligny a la de Calibán. Las analogías nos permiten destacar las profundas diferencias: en la novela de Defoe, la isla no es un dispositivo antipódico para invertir la imagen del viejo continente, sino más bien para afirmar con fuerza, frente a otro que hay que asimilar o eliminar. Para defender sus bienes, su patria de adopción, esta isla de la Desesperanza de la cual él ha hecho con el tiempo un reino fecundo en recursos agrícolas, en ganado e inclusive en súbditos, –escribe Lestringant– Robinson masacra y hecha a la mar a los intrusos, que no pasan nunca, por lo menos en la primera parte de la novela, la orilla de las playas. Se trata entonces del inverso de la situación histórica real, donde los Indios, cercados en sus islas, resistían codo a codo a los colonos llegados de Europa que les imponen privaciones. … El esquema de inversión, típico dispositivo ideológico, constituye un biombo de cómodo. El mapa del mundo se gira como un guante, la isla y el continente intercambian sus respectivos puestos.86 El miedo a la antropofagia, por mucho tiempo comprimida en la imagen tranquilizadora del caníbal lejano, explota, amenazando en propagarse por la humanidad entera. Si el hombre civilizado no se moviliza para parar el contagio, los caníbales se multiplicarán en la isla y más allá, hasta devolverse del Nuevo Mundo al viejo continente. En su Modest Proposal del 1729, Jonathan Swift 85 Rousseau afirma que el “libro magnifico” que representa un tratado completo sobre la educación, no es ni de Aristóteles, ni de Peine, ni de Bouffon. Es el “Robinson Crusoe” de Defoe. Citado en Michael Shinagel, ed., Robinson Crusoe: An authoritative text. Backgrounds and sources. Contexts, Criticism (New York-London: Norton, 1975) 282. 86 Lestringant, Le cannibale… 234. ACHSC / 32 / Vignolo 188 sugiere servir los niños de “nuestros salvajes” (es decir, los papistas irlandeses) como carne a la mesa de las ricas familias inglesas. Un americano muy enterado, conocido mío de Londres, me ha informado de que un niño sano y bien cuidado constituye, cuando tiene un año, un alimento delicioso, saludable y nutritivo, tanto si se toma estofado, como si se ingiere asado, cocido o hervido. Y no dudo de que será igual de sabroso si se sirve en un fricassée o un ragoût.87 La pluma corrosiva de Swift, adversario personal y político del mucho más poderoso Defoe, ofrece a nuestra historia una extraordinaria inversión final: si en Defoe el caníbal Viernes corre el riesgo de ser obligado a volverse vegetariano para sobrevivir, el rico ingles de Swift pondera atentamente las posibles ventajas del devenir caníbal. 87 Jonathan Swift, Oeuvres, ed. E. Pons (París: Gallimard, 1965) [R. A. Greenberg y W. Bowman Piper, eds., The Writings of Swift. Authoritative Texts. Backgrounds. Criticism, (New York- London: Norton, 1973) 1385.] 
work_qwu7dq3gtrcalppu6cnrmjsaim	----	MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak Books in Space and Time: Bibliomania and Early Modern Histories of Learning and “Literature” in France Neil Kenny Early modern histories of learning and belles-lettres took authors,works, and (sometimes) editions as their objects. By contrast, bib- liomaniacs craved objects that were far more particular: individual copies of books (or else specific manuscripts). My aim is to investigate the relationship between these two apparently disparate forms of early modern interest in the book production of the past: bibliomania and, on the other hand, histories of learning and belles-lettres. Bibliomania began to be identified as a phenomenon in France in the second half of the seventeenth century. It spectacularly inflated the prices of livres rares et curieux on the Paris market throughout the eighteenth century, especially from about 1720, by which time it had also become prominent in England and the Low Countries.1 Isaac Dis- 1 My account is greatly indebted to two excellent essays by Jean Viardot on bib- liomania and its relationship to other kinds of collecting: “Livres rares et pratiques bibliophiliques,” in Le Livre triomphant, 1660–1830, ed. Henri-Jean Martin and Roger Chartier, vol. 2 of Histoire de l’édition française (Paris: Promodis, 1984), 447–67; and “Naissance de la bibliophilie: Les Cabinets de livres rares,” in Les Bibliothèques sous l’Ancien Régime, 1530–1789, ed. Claude Jolly, vol. 2 of Histoire des bibliothèques Modern Language Quarterly 61:2, June 2000. © 2000 University of Washington. I am grateful to the British Academy for a Research Readership, during the tenure of which this essay was written. I thank Marshall Brown, Michael Kenny, Ian Maclean, Jenny Mander, Emmanuelle Mortgat, Paul Nelles, Paddy O’Donovan, Alain Viala, and Wes Williams for advice. The audiences at the University College Cork collo- quium “Mapping the Course of Literary History” and at the early modern French research seminars of the universities of Cambridge and Oxford provided helpful feedback. Responsibility for remaining errors is mine. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 253 254 MLQ ❙ June 2000 françaises (Paris: Promodis, 1988), 269–89. The first drastic rises in rare book prices were caused by public sales from the famous collections of Etienne Baluze (1719) and Cisternay du Fay (1725): see Françoise Bléchet, Les Ventes publiques de livres en France, 1630–1750: Répertoire des catalogues conser vés à la Bibliothèque Nationale (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 1991), 51–2; and Viardot, “Livres rares,” 451. The first known occurrence of bibliomanie is 1654 (Guy Patin, who seems also to have used bibliomane): see Trésor de la langue française, 16 vols. (Paris: CNRS, 1971–94). There have been numerous important recent studies of early modern collecting, e.g., Krzysztof Pomian, Collectionneurs, amateurs et curieux: Paris, Venise: XVIe–XVIIIe siècle (Paris: Gallimard, 1987). 2 Disraeli, Curiosities of Literature (London, 1791), 19. 3 The earliest occurrence of bibliophile of which I am aware is in 1738, quoted by Bléchet, 15–7. 4 On some varieties of historia litteraria see Claude Cristin, Aux origines de l’histoire littéraire (Grenoble: Presses Universitaires de Grenoble, 1973), 98–9, 105–6; Paul Nelles, “Private Teaching and Professorial Collections at the University of Kiel: Morhof and Historia Litteraria,” in Daniel Morhof, destins et enjeux, ed. Françoise Waquet (Wiesbaden: Wolfenbütteler Forschungen, forthcoming); B. H. G. Wormald, raeli later called bibliomania a “luxury of literature.”2 Although the love of books, the collecting of books, and a concern for them as mate- rial artifacts were obviously not new and can be conveniently desig- nated by the term bibliophilia,3 bibliomania was more extreme in that it involved an almost complete disregard for the most common use of books: reading. Bibliomania therefore seems to have been a far cr y from early modern efforts to write in French the history of various objects known in the period as lettres, belles-lettres, littérature, auteurs, hommes illustres dans la République des lettres, poètes, poésie, ouvrages, and livres. These efforts were often considered to be connected to each other, though there was no consistent overall term for them. Many were histories of learn- ing, that is, vernacular versions of what was called in Latin historia lit- teraria, the idea of which had been formulated most famously by Fran- cis Bacon in the early seventeenth century.4 The phrase histoire littéraire, Neil Kenny is lecturer in French at the University of Cambridge. He is author of Curiosity in Early Modern Europe: Word Histories (1998) and The Palace of Secrets: Béroalde de Verville and Renaissance Con- ceptions of Knowledge (1991), and he edited Philosophical Fictions and the French Renaissance (1991). He is writing a book on the dis- courses of “curiosity” in early modern France and Germany. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 254 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 255 common in the late seventeenth century, began to appear in the “his- tory of learning” sense in the titles of some vernacular histories from the first half of the eighteenth century, when it was also applied retro- spectively to many earlier histories. (I use histoire littéraire in this period sense instead of in its modern ones, for which I reserve the phrase “lit- erary history.”) Although the Latin concept was mostly thought of in relation to the transnational Republic of Letters, the French phrase was sometimes understood more nationalistically, denoting the history of French learning, an enterprise that also had its late-sixteenth-century antecedents, notably in the alphabetically arranged bibliographies compiled by François Grudé de La Croix du Maine and Antoine du Verdier.5 On the other hand, other more narrowly focused histories written in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries were of works (such as poetry, oratory, historiography) that were considered eloquent. These were histories of belles-lettres in the rhetoric- and vernacular-oriented sense of that term, which developed in the seventeenth century. They were considered either rivals to, or subdivisions of, histories of belles-let- tres in the broader, older “erudition” sense, which also subsisted well into the eighteenth century (and which corresponded roughly to lit- téraire in histoire littéraire). (Whenever I use belles-lettres, it will be in both the broad and narrow senses, unless one of the two is specified.) Sub- sequently, by the end of the eighteenth century, the less rhetorically oriented term littérature had displaced belles-lettres from many contexts.6 As Emmanuelle Mortgat demonstrates in what promises to be an important study, the precursors of these histories of belles-lettres in the narrow sense included late-fifteenth- and sixteenth-century histories of Francis Bacon: History, Politics, and Science, 1561–1626 (Cambridge: Cambridge Uni- versity Press, 1993), 216–9; and Helmut Zedelmaier, Bibliotheca universalis und biblio- theca selecta: Das Problem der Ordnung des gelehrten Wissens in der frühen Neuzeit (Cologne: Böhlau, 1992), chap. 4. 5 On these two see Roger Chartier, L’Ordre des livres: Lecteurs, auteurs, bibliothèques en Europe entre XIVe et XVIIIe siècle (Aix-en-Provence: Alinea, 1992), 81–93; and Claude Longeon, “Antoine du Verdier et François Grudé de La Croix du Maine,” in Actes du colloque Renaissance-classicisme du Maine: Le Mans, 1971 (Paris: Nizet, 1975), 213–33. 6 See Philippe Caron, Des “belles lettres” à la “littérature”: Une archéologie des signes du savoir profane en langue française (1680–1760) (Paris: Société pour l’Information Grammaticale, 1992). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 255 256 MLQ ❙ June 2000 vernacular poetry undertaken by the Grands Rhétoriqueurs and then, as part of their nationalistic historiographical projects, by the Gallican scholars Etienne Pasquier and Claude Fauchet.7 As has been well doc- umented, belles-lettres in the restricted, rhetorical sense was, in turn, one of the roots of modern conceptions of “literature” as aesthetic cre- ation.8 At first glance, bibliomania seems to have been antithetical to these various early modern kinds of histoire littéraire. Bibliomania was radically particularist. It constructed books as material objects existing in particular spaces, as surfaces: it valued certain kinds of typography, binding, paper, illustrations, format, and even accidental contingen- cies, such as printing errors distinguishing one copy or edition from another. It also ascribed to books extrinsic value that was market- driven. And it fetishized such books, when collected in cabinets, as repositories of cultural capital, showing off the wealth of the private individual in whose name they had been collected and lending him honor and distinction. Such collectors were mainly male, either from the aristocracy or else from the world of finance and business.9 By con- trast, some histories of belles-lettres constructed books instead as tran- scendent, idealized, and immaterial objects (inhabiting not particular spaces but rather time, whether a delimited period or a time line stretching back into the past), as depth and not surface or ornament, as substance and not accident, and as deriving intrinsic value from their own intellectual, moral, or aesthetic merits. Like bibliomania, these histories also fetishized books (when collected together concep- tually) as repositories of cultural capital, but the concomitant honor and distinction redounded on public, collective entities, especially the nation, rather than on a private individual. 7 Mortgat, Clio au Parnasse: Naissance de l’“histoire littéraire” des lettres françaises aux XVIe et XVIIe siècles (Paris: Champion, forthcoming). I am grateful to the author for providing me with a summary of the doctoral thesis on which this book is based. 8 On the early modern semantic field of belles-lettres and the emergence of mod- ern concepts of literature, literary history, and the writer see Paul Bénichou, Le Sacre de l’écrivain, 1750–1830: Essai sur l’avènement d’un pouvoir spirituel laïque dans la France moderne (Paris: Corti, 1973); Caron, Des “belles lettres”; Cristin, Aux origines; Marc Fumaroli, L’Age de l’éloquence: Rhétorique et “res literaria” de la Renaissance au seuil de l’époque classique (Geneva: Droz, 1980), 17–32; and Alain Viala, Naissance de l’écrivain: Sociologie de l’écrivain à l’âge classique (Paris: Minuit, 1985). 9 See Viardot, “Naissance,” 269. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 256 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 257 However, despite the conflicting aims of bibliomania and these histories, there was also considerable, if sometimes unacknowledged, affinity as well as antagonism between the two. Interest in books as material objects (copies) was shared by some strands of histoire littéraire, which relied on bibliomania as a source of information. On a figura- tive level, some histoire littéraire was written not only as a kind of metaphorical erudite library but also at times as a kind of metaphori- cal cabinet (much more redolent of bibliomania). However, by the start of the nineteenth century, bibliomania had drifted much farther apart from histories of learning or of texts deemed aesthetically cre- ative. The antagonisms and continuities between bibliomania and these histories were, to some extent, disagreements and agreements about the roles played by space and time in organizing the book production of the past. For bibliomaniacs, spaces were paramount, whether the cabinets in which they stored their copies or the market in which those copies sometimes circulated. For writers of histoire littéraire, actual phys- ical spaces were important instruments, most obviously the erudite library or the cabinet. Yet in some eighteenth-century versions of his- toire littéraire overall chronological frameworks became more concep- tually prominent than spatial ones. The very notion of histoire littéraire became more detached from physical libraries and then even from metaphorical ones. This change was a shift in emphasis, but not a com- plete reversal, given the impossibility of separating space from time. Whereas libraries and cabinets downplayed the histories of their objects and of their own formation by being presented in apparently synchronic space, some histories of belles-lettres minimized the material world of physical space, but they could not rid themselves of depen- dence on it. The shift in emphasis from space to time that accompa- nied the rise of some histoire littéraire is perhaps one instance of a more general shift, in some but certainly not all quarters of early modern intellectual culture, from the spatial representations of knowledge that, in Walter Ong’s thesis, initially thrived with the spread of print- ing,10 to historicizing representations of knowledge, culminating in works such as Johann Jakob Brucker’s monumental Historia critica 10 Ong, Ramus, Method, and the Decay of Dialogue: From the Art of Discourse to the Art of Reason (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1958), 314–8. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 257 258 MLQ ❙ June 2000 philosophiæ (1742–44), for example. To evoke another recent, even more tendentiously generalizing paradigm, the partial displacement of library and cabinet by histoire littéraire and histories of belles-lettres is perhaps consonant with Michel de Certeau’s argument that the early modern period saw the emergence of a distinctively Western separa- tion of a dead past from a living present.11 Some of these written histo- ries introduced sharper kinds of distinctions between past and present than those that subsisted in spatially organized collections of books. Although the shift in emphasis from space to time was not uni- form or straightfor ward, it is useful as a heuristic device to explore the relation between bibliomania and histories of belles-lettres. After considering the role played by literal and metaphorical spaces in the organization of past book production, I examine the discursive inser- tion of authors and works into more emphatically temporal frame- works. Copies in Space Library Physical collections of books in seventeenth-centur y France were either libraries (bibliothèques) or cabinets. These have recently been subdivided by Jean Viardot in a typology that largely reflects distinc- tions made in the period. Largest and organized on the most scholarly principles were the libraries founded by great families of the legal nobility from the late sixteenth century onward. Much smaller, but still arranged for intellectual and moral usefulness in keeping with schol- arly, not bibliomaniacal principles, was the select library (bibliothèque choisie) of the urbane honnête homme. From the late seventeenth cen- tury, this type could shade into a different category, that of the cabinet choisi, in which the owner had a dose of bibliomania as well as concern for subject matter, whereas if bibliomania (rather than reading) was the owner’s sole motive, then the result was a cabinet curieux or cabinet de raretés, the plaything of the bibliomaniac.12 Throughout the seventeenth century in France, the library re- 11 Certeau, L’Ecriture de l’histoire (Paris: Gallimard, 1975), 9–19. 12 See the two essays by Viardot (n. 1 above). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 258 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 259 mained the dominant model for the collecting of books.13 Surprising as it may seem, this spatial model eventually became compatible with a time-oriented, nationalistic enterprise: histories of belles-lettres. An early step toward this compatibility was the attribution of pub- lic significance to some libraries (in contrast to cabinets, which were usually considered as spaces for private gratification). For example, Gabriel Naudé’s Advis pour dresser une bibliotheque (1627) encouraged the elite of the parliamentary legal nobility to continue building great libraries that would above all be useful, not shut away for the private delight of their founder but open to some of the public, notably learned but impoverished scholars from the bourgeoisie who could not afford their own libraries, such as the Gallican humanist Naudé himself.14 The payoff for the robins would be glory and prestige of the kind that did indeed accrue to the likes of the de Thou, de Mesmes, Bouhier, and Séguier families thanks to their great libraries. Naudé excludes from his ideal library the kinds of exotic luxury books that were later collected on a large scale in some cabinets.15 As well as giv- ing libraries greater public significance, Naudé injected a temporal axis into them. As Paul Nelles has shown, Naudé conceived of the librar y as an instrument for the transnational histor y of learning known as historia litteraria.16 Four decades later, Charles Sorel similarly endowed his ideal library with public significance, but now of a national rather than a transnational kind. His 1664 contribution to the genre of librar y advice books was partly a riposte to Naudé, and it described a different 13 The spatial denotations of bibliothèque varied, ranging from a collection of books to the item of furniture in which they were displayed: see Roger Chartier, Lec- tures et lecteurs dans la France d’Ancien Régime (Paris: Seuil, 1987), 181–4. On the library as a dominant model for the ordering of knowledge in the early modern period see Chartier, L’Ordre des livres; and Zedelmaier, Bibliotheca universalis. 14 See Jack A. Clarke, Gabriel Naudé, 1600–1653 (Hamden, Conn.: Archon, 1970), 17–22; and Viardot, “Livres rares,” 448–50. 15 See Viardot, “Livres rares,” 467–8. 16 Nelles, “The Library as an Instrument of Discovery: Gabriel Naudé and the Uses of History,” in History and the Disciplines: The Reclassification of Knowledge in Early Modern Europe, ed. Donald R. Kelley (Rochester, N.Y.: University of Rochester Press, 1997), 41–57, esp. 52. Naudé’s ideal library also had a more national-oriented role, as political counselor: see Robert Damien, Bibliothèque et état: Naissance d’une raison politique dans la France du XVIIe siècle (Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1995). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 259 260 MLQ ❙ June 2000 kind of library, something closer to a bibliothèque choisie, much more moderne in its exclusive focus on the vernacular and in its mondain pref- erence for belles-lettres in the new, restricted, “eloquent” sense of “aes- thetic creation” rather than for university-style theology and philoso- phy.17 “Since the main wealth [le principal bien] derives from our good French books, it is they that should be honored as much as the curious people who collected them. I have made this selection of books not with a view to building the kind of libraries that people try to stock only with great books, valuable for their rarity and fine typography. Rather, our books have been sought out by subject with a view to read- ing the most profitable ones, not to displaying them in the cabinets of rich men.”18 Cultural capital, which resides in French books, should honor them and so, by metonymic implication, France itself, to which Sorel’s manual is dedicated.19 The nationalistic, symbolic use of the library was taken up still more forcefully in histoire littéraire projects some sixty to seventy years later. Sorel’s carefully balanced phrasing shows that some of the honor could still be reserved for the private indi- vidual owning the librar y, as long as personal wealth was not the library’s overt signifié. (Since a degree of wealth was nonetheless nec- essary to establish even a modest library, some ideological mystifica- tion was involved here.) In early-eighteenth-century France the library model became asso- ciated in new ways with (what was now called) histoire littéraire, by being sometimes detached from literal, physical spaces altogether and pro- jected metaphorically onto a temporal axis.20 Naudé and Sorel had 17 Sorel, Bibliotheque françoise, ou Le Choix et l’examen des livres françois qui traitent de l’eloquence, de la philosophie, de la devotion, et de la conduite des mœurs (Paris, 1664), 241. An earlier related work, more on how to read than on what to collect, is Sorel’s De la connoissance des bons livres, ou Examen de plusieurs auteurs (Paris, 1671). Despite the connection with bibliothèques choisies, Sorel envisaged his readership as comprising a wider range of estates than just honnêtes gens, as he makes clear in De la connoissance (3). On the scope of belles-lettres in Sorel see Viala, 286–8. 18 Sorel, Bibliotheque françoise, sigs. [a xiv]–[a xiir]; all translations are mine. 19 On the bourgeois Sorel’s nationalism and social status see Robin Howells, Carnival to Classicism: The Comic Novels of Charles Sorel (Paris: PFSCL, 1989), 12–4; Emile Roy, La Vie et les œuvres de Charles Sorel sieur de Souvigny (1602–1674) (Paris: Hachette, 1891), 4–10, chap. 11. 20 For a much fuller analysis of the roughly contemporaneous historicization of the notion of a library (in German learned culture) see Zedelmaier, chap. 4. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 260 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 261 mainly been giving advice about physical libraries, and even La Croix du Maine’s Bibliotheque of French-language authors (1584), frequently cited in the early modern period as a bibliography and republished in 1772–73 along with Antoine du Verdier’s bibliography of 1585, was in fact part of La Croix du Maine’s project for an actual physical library. However, the concept of a library also had an array of metaphorical senses.21 In the early eighteenth centur y, some of them became so detached from their literal term that they could be temporal at least as much as spatial. Hence the wave of new periodicals published in Ams- terdam with titles such as Bibliothèque angloise, ou Histoire littéraire de la Grande Bretagne (1717 onward) and Bibliothèque françoise, ou Histoire lit- téraire de la France (1723–42).22 In these critical surveys of the recent scholarly and other book production in the relevant language or coun- try, the “library” had become the periodical itself, a fixed-format typo- graphical space with contents regularly changing over time.23 21 For some of these senses see Chartier, L’Ordre des livres. A survey of the differ- ent meanings of bibliotheca and bibliothèque in book titles is provided by Claude- François Ménestrier in his Bibliotheque curieuse et instructive (Trévoux, 1704), 1:13–32. 22 See Cristin, 96–7. 23 The author of the preface to the first volume of the Bibliotheque françoise (probably Denis François Camusat) is well aware of this departure from the previous common association of bibliothèque with literal libraries or bibliographies: “This Bib- liotheque françoise has nothing in common with other works that have the same title, and it should not be viewed as an alphabetical or descriptive catalog of writers who have written in our language, like those catalogs compiled in the past by Du Verdier, La Croix du Maine, and Sorel” (Bibliotheque françoise . . . Tome premier . . . seconde edi- tion [Amsterdam, 1735], sig. * 2r). In their relation to time, these early-eighteenth- century periodicals can be seen as successors to the seventeenth-century national bibliographies that took over from the declining Frankfurt fair catalog, such as the annual bibliographies of French and Parisian book production between 1642 and 1653, compiled by the Carmelite father Louis Jacob. Jacob’s aims were nationalistic and commercial, promoting French culture while also advertising books for sale. (Some of his bibliographies were printed by Sebastien Cramoisy, imprimeur du roi and the dominant figure in the Paris printing trade.) However, the erudite library model also influenced the conception and form of these bibliographies, which were encouraged by Jacob’s friend Naudé and broadly followed the latter’s classification system. See Bernard Barbiche, “Le Régime de l’édition,” in Le Livre conquérant: Du moyen âge au milieu du xviie siècle, ed. Henri-Jean Martin and Roger Chartier, vol. 1 of Histoire de l’édition française (Paris: Promodis, 1982), 375–6; Henri-Jean Martin, “Classements et conjonctures,” in Martin and Chartier, Le Livre conquérant, 440–1; Henri-Jean Martin, “Renouvellements et concurrences,” in Martin and Chartier, Le Livre conquérant, 382–3; and Viala, 286. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 261 262 MLQ ❙ June 2000 It was one of those involved in the Bibliothèque françoise periodical, l’abbé Claude-Pierre Goujet, who subsequently wrote a more monu- mental “library” in which that temporal flux was fixed as a past one, structured not as one great time line but as an array of discrete linear progressions, most of them running from the start of printing to the present, each of them under the aegis of a particular subject (such as belles-lettres in a narrow sense, history, the sciences and arts, or subdivi- sions thereof). His Bibliotheque françoise, ou Histoire de la litterature françoise (1740–56) is mainly organized as a series of essays on the chronological history of these subjects, each of which is followed by a nonchronologi- cal bibliography of French-language works on that subject. Goujet has cut the umbilical cord between this library and literal ones. The cultural capital supplied by the books can now redound to the glory not of any individual (as was still half the case in Sorel’s manual seventy-six years earlier) but of “our nation.”24 Indeed, this nationalistic work had close links with the higher reaches of political power: the idea for it seems to have arisen when Goujet (who wrote partly to earn money) was com- missioned to write an histoire littéraire of France by the comte d’Argen- son, whose many official roles included that of conseiller d’état.25 Goujet’s occultation of literal space is paralleled by an occultation of the literal, private wealth that is both the cause and the standard sig- nifié of cabinets of books: instead, it is the nation’s figurative “riches of learning and literature [richesses littéraires]” (1:iv, xxiii) that are on dis- play. Also occulted is the very matter of books: Goujet lists different editions of works, but it is essentially “works” (ouvrages) that interest him, not physical copies (1:v). Yet access to the work is through the copy, and so his brief acknowledgments of help received in gaining access to relatively inaccessible copies held in private “cabinets” are hints of the debt he may owe to the world of bibliomania (though many of these cabinets may be more learned than bibliomaniacal) (5:iv–vi, 9:vi).26 24 Goujet, Bibliotheque françoise, 18 vols. (Paris, 1740–56), 1:xxiv. Goujet sees Sorel as having achieved an embryonic version of his own project, although Sorel was confined far more to belles-lettres in the narrow sense (1:vi–viii). On Goujet’s proj- ect see Cristin, 107–8; and Clément Moisan, L’Histoire littéraire (Paris: Presses Univer- sitaires de France, 1990), 69–71. 25 See J. Balteau, M. Barroux, and Michel Prévost, eds., Dictionnaire de biographie française (Paris: Letouzey et Ané, 1933–), s.v. “Goujet.” 26 For a further reference to collectors (perhaps bibliomaniacs) who possess but do not read copies of old French romances see 9:23–4. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 262 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 263 Library or Cabinet? The late seventeenth and early eighteenth centuries saw the publica- tion of a hybrid group of manuals that were more or less designed to give advice to those wishing to compile book collections that lay some- where between the extremes of the great library of the legal nobility and the cabinet curieux. These manuals were metaphorically titled Bib- liothèque themselves, yet all (unlike Goujet’s subsequent Bibliotheque françoise) remained firmly oriented toward literal libraries. A brief sur- vey shows that they had varying and complex relations to both biblio- mania and early modern histories of belles-lettres. Some advocated a little bibliomania but hardly any histoire littéraire. For example, the Jesuit Claude-François Ménestrier’s Bibliotheque curieuse et instructive de divers ouvrages anciens et modernes, de literature et des arts, a mondain manual instructing honnêtes gens how to form both a bibliothèque choisie and a cabinet choisi,27 presents books not in any sys- tematic historical framework but purely as facilitators of performance in the present. A modest library is enough to give the honnête homme the reading resources necessar y to shine in conversation. Personal rather than national distinction is the aim (indeed the contents of the library are certainly not uniquely French). As for the cabinet choisi, the books it contains are significant less for their contents than for their symbolic value. Primarily, they symbolize not oldness or history but rather the uniqueness of the honnête homme and his individual taste, whether for history, travel accounts, romance, poetry, or emblems. His search for distinction may involve a mild, circumscribed amount of bibliomania,28 but it has little to do with histoire littéraire. On the other hand, other kinds of publications designed to help honnêtes gens form bibliothèques choisies did have much closer links with histoire littéraire (of the transnational, historia litteraria variety) while dis- tancing themselves still more from bibliomania. These were unsystem- atic compilations of anecdotes, judgments, and bibliographical remarks on a selection of bons livres (mostly specific editions). One 27 Ménestrier, Bibliotheque curieuse et instructive de divers ouvrages anciens et mod- ernes, de literature et des arts, 2 vols. (Trévoux, 1704). On cabinets choisis see Viardot, “Naissance,” 282–9. 28Although honnêtes gens are being encouraged to collect livres rares et curieux for their cabinets, they are discouraged from acquiring bibliomaniacal expertise in typography and so on (Ménestrier, 1:86–7). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 263 264 MLQ ❙ June 2000 example is the Nouvelle Bibliothèque choisie by Nicolas Barat, which begins with an immediate disavowal of any connections to “La bib- liomanie,” (1:a iiir–a ivr), thereby revealing, however, the perceived dan- ger of being associated with it.29 Another example is the Bibliothèque choisie of the Huguenot Paul Colomiès, erstwhile librarian to the arch- bishop of Canterbury, William Sancroft.30 Colomiès is aiming at a slightly more learned audience (mostly fellow librarians) (iv), and his title is designed to distinguish this work from extensive, systematic bibliogra- phies such as that of La Croix du Maine. The editors revising the Colomiès volume for republication in 1731 saw it as the fruit of his “His- toire littéraire” (viii), thereby conceiving of the latter not as a written text but as an internalized body of knowledge. Moreover, these editors had been intending to publish their edition of Colomiès together with Guillaume Colletet’s Histoire générale et particulière des poètes françois. Although the project failed, it reveals the perception at this time of a congruity between these two apparently disparate works and so between scholarly histoire littéraire and the history of belles-lettres (in the restricted sense). The pairing appears all the more comprehensible in light of Colomiès’s long-standing association with Gerardus Vossius, an even more celebrated contributor than Colletet to the genre of illustrious lives. However, the spatial metaphor as used by Colomiès and Barat still resists temporality: when Colomiès does contemplate the future possi- bility of a more systematic bibliography, restricted to French texts, it is still an updating of the La Croix du Maine model that both he and his two annotators, Bourdelot and La Monnoye, envisage (in separate foot- notes, 99–101), not a projection of that model onto time à la Goujet. At least one manual was much closer to the world of bibliomania than were the publications of Ménestrier, Barat, or Colomiès while also, however, being congruent with histories of belles-lettres in the nar- row, moderne sense: the Bibliotheque des romans (1734) by Nicolas Lenglet-Dufresnoy, a bibliography forming the second volume of his famous De l’usage des romans.31 29 Barat, Nouvelle Bibliothèque choisie, 2 vols. (Paris, 1714). 30 Colomiès, Bibliothèque choisie (Paris, 1682). 31 Lenglet-Dufresnoy, Bibliotheque des romans ([Rouen], 1734). On his De l’usage des romans see Geraldine Sheridan, Nicolas Lenglet-Dufresnoy and the Literar y Under- world of the “Ancien Régime” (Oxford: Voltaire Foundation, 1989), 141–61. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 264 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 265 32 See Viardot, “Naissance,” 271–5. 33 See the prefaces to the Catalogue des livres de feu M. [Jean-Louis] Barré, auditeur des comptes, 2 vols. (Paris, 1743), and the Catalogue des livres du cabinet de M.*** [Pierre Imbert Châtre de Cangé] (Paris, 1733). See also the quotation in Viardot, “Naissance,” 271, from the 1759 sales catalog for the cabinet of J.-B. Denis Guyon de Sardière. A contemporary review of the Du Fay sales catalog sees no intrinsic value whatsoever (“Their rarity gives them their pecuniary value”) in that part of the cabinet that is “a fairly rare collection of the most curious romances, and especially of books of chivalry” (Bibliotheque françoise, ou Histoire littéraire de la France, January–February 1726, 54). 34 Their sales catalogs, which probably do not reflect the actual organization of the collections, use the standard bibliographical system of the period. Of these manuals, all connected with collections that lie between the extremes of the great library of the legal nobility and the biblio- maniacal cabinet curieux, none, not even those with an affinity to histo- ries of belles-lettres, seek to turn the literal or figurative space of collec- tions into historical narrative, nor even into a repository of old books whose primar y symbolic meaning is their oldness rather than, for example, the collector’s distinction. On the other hand, some early- eighteenth-century cabinets did come to be understood in the period partly as repositories of the history of vernacular belles-lettres (in the moderne sense rather than the older sense of Gallican erudition) and so can be seen as nationalistic versions of Lenglet-Dufresnoy’s nonna- tionalistic Bibliotheque des romans. Le cabinet d’antiquités gauloises Owners of what Jean Viardot calls cabinets d’antiquités gauloises do seem to have aimed partly at nationalistic history as well as at personal dis- tinction.32 Indeed, the status of these cabinets as historical repositories correlated with the amount of prestige that their cultural capital fur- nished for the nation rather than just the private collector. Among their contents were French belles-lettres (in the moderne sense) from the Middle Ages and the early Renaissance, as well as documents relating to French provincial history. As Viardot has shown, their owners came not from the ranks of erudite Gallicanism (which had long con- demned indigenous romans and the like as frivolous or pernicious) but from the grande bourgeoisie of the financial world or the mondain aris- tocracy. Certainly, such collections were still largely signifiers of per- sonal wealth, taste, and distinction.33 And there seems to be no evi- dence that their spatial organization reflected linear history.34 One MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 265 266 MLQ ❙ June 2000 temporal axis does figure in their presentation for sale, but this is the time it took for the collection to be “formed by assiduous labor over many years” rather than the time of the collected books’ original com- position (Catalogue des livres du cabinet de M. [Cangé], [i]). The sales pitch can also include strong pleas for a single buyer, so that the col- lection will remain intact. Although the argument against dismember- ing it again involves invocation of the owner (emphasizing his invest- ment of labor, finance, and emotion) rather than of the historical coherence of the collection, nonetheless the fact that these collections were sometimes purchased whole and made accessible to some schol- ars suggests that they came to be seen as historical repositories that thereby had public significance. Pierre Imbert Châtre de Cangé’s con- cern for this significance is also evident in his collaboration in the “col- lection Coustelier,” which published some of the old French poets. The wholesale purchase of the Cangé cabinet by the Bibliothèque du Roi in 1733 and that of the Guyon de Sardière cabinet by the duc de la Vallière in 1759 signal the integration of private cabinets into semi- public libraries of the kinds that, when projected imaginatively onto a temporal axis, were providing the model, in these ver y years, for nationalistic histoire littéraire.35 Market The eighteenth-century market in livres rares et curieux seems to have been a space even further removed from histories of belles-lettres than were literal libraries and cabinets, since the latter at least sought to fix individual copies in a spatial framework, whereas in the market the value of such copies fluctuated depending on where and when they were evaluated.36 From this mobility arose a relational system of value strikingly at odds with the search for instrinsic value made by those who sought to write nationalistic histories of French book production. However, despite the antipathy between the market (with its mate- 35 The duc de la Vallière made his library a resource for scholars. For this and the last two points see Viardot, “Naissance,” 271–2. 36 See Guillaume-François Debure le Jeune, Bibliographie instructive: ou Traité de la connoissance des livres rares et singuliers, 10 vols. (Paris, 1763–82), volume on theology (1763), no. 3; volume on belles-lettres (1765), no. 131. On the mobility of copies in the market see Bléchet, 17. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 266 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 267 rial objects) and some histories of belles-lettres (with their transcendent objects), it is perhaps no coincidence that this market reached its greatest scope and heights of organization at the same time as various kinds of nationalistic histories of belles-lettres were thriving, in the mid– and late eighteenth century. In addition to the market in bibliomania furnishing some sources for such histories (as in the cases of Lenglet- Dufresnoy and Cangé, for example), for a while certain structural par- allels and affinities existed between the two systems, which were not yet as distinct as they would become in subsequent years. The affinities can be detected even in the Bibliographie instructive: ou Traité de la con- noissance des livres rares et singuliers (1763–82) by Guillaume-François Debure le Jeune, a descriptive list of all items sought by curieux biblio- maniacs, compiled by the market’s dominant dealer in old printed books.37 Like many histories of belles-lettres, Debure’s system of value is predicated on the existence of masterpieces, the difference being that his are produced by printers, not by authors: one edition of Virgil’s Opera is “held to be one of the finest masterpieces that printing can produce.”38 Moreover, although bibliomania values printing errors and other imperfections where they make a copy unique and so more col- lectible, whereas the ouvrage valued by many histories of belles-lettres transcends such material error, nonetheless the bibliomaniacal grail — the perfect copy —seems endowed with similarly ideal qualities. For example, the one travel book sought above all others by bibliomaniacs was the seven-volume folio Collectiones peregrinationum in Indiam Orien- talem et Indiam Occidentalem (1590–1634), with illustrations by the De Bry brothers.39 Debure devotes more pages to it (120) than to any other book. Not only did its emblematic status as the travel book endow any copy with a certain symbolic and transcendent quality, but the per- fect copy of this book could in turn transcend all other copies. Various “Curieux” had tried “to complete this work, and to perfect their copy,” notably one abbé de Rothelin, who hired several scholars to do sup- plementar y research, enabling him to add to his own copy various texts that were not in the original work but “were necessary for a copy 37 See Viardot, “Livres rares,” 458–63. 38 Debure, Volume on belles-lettres, no. 2696. 39 See Viardot, “Livres rares,” 463. See Debure, volume on history (1768), no. 4230 (67–187). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 267 268 MLQ ❙ June 2000 that was brought to the highest point of perfection” (69). The perfect copy incorporated unique but essential additions to the work. Furthermore, although space appears to be the dominant axis in the organization of the market, the market also depended on time. Although the copies circulating were not primarily seen by their curieux buyers as individual fixed points in one overall historical frame- work, they were seen as inhabiting another time, that of the market, which could change their value on virtually a daily basis. Moreover, their value was also determined partly by various microhistories — con- cerning not their contents but the circumstances of their composition, reception, and so on —which became metonymically attached to spe- cific physical copies. Even if these histories were fictitious, they could still add value. Debure reports the claim that friends of Descartes had traveled to Spain to buy up all the copies of the 1558 Nova et vera medi- cina by Gómez Pereira, in order to quash the rumor that Descartes had cribbed from the Spaniard some of his ideas on animals.40 Here the value-adding anecdote is also a purported explanation of the scarcity of copies. The belief that extrinsic anecdotes add value to copies or works was even shared by Debure’s antagonist l’abbé Barthélemy Mercier de Saint-Léger, who provided the most detailed and dogged of the attacks by scholarly “bibliologists” on Debure’s manual.41 They dis- agreed about which anecdotes were sufficiently rares to add to the rareté (in the sense of “market desirability”) of copies,42 but not about the basic principle that anecdotes add value. There is a continuum here stretching from bibliomania to scholarly bibliology and also to histoire 40 Debure, volume on jurisprudence, sciences, and arts (1764), no. 1292. For a discussion of Pereira that focuses on the question of Descartes’s alleged plagiarism see Pierre Bayle, Dictionnaire historique et critique . . . nouvelle édition, 16 vols. (Paris, 1820), 11:546–64. In fact, the work in which Pereira discusses the souls of animals is not the Nova et vera medicina but the Antoniana margarita (Medina del Campo, 1554). I am grateful to Ian Maclean for pointing this out. For other value-adding anecdotes see Debure, volume on jurisprudence, sciences, and arts, nos. 1220, 1363; and Cata- logue des livres de feu M. Barré, “Avertissement.” 41 On anecdote see Mercier de Saint-Léger, Lettre aux auteurs de ces Mémoires sur la “Bibliographie instructive” de M. Debure, in Mémoires pour l’histoire des sciences et beaux-arts (the Journal de Trévoux) (Trévoux), July 1763, 1639. The term bibliologie was coined by l’abbé Jean-Joseph Rive: see Viardot, “Livres rares,” 460. 42 See Debure’s riposte to Mercier de Saint-Léger in the preface to his volume on jurisprudence, sciences, and arts (v). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 268 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 269 littéraire as practiced by Goujet, for example, who describes his history as one not of authors but of “books . . . what occasioned them, the debates they gave rise to, and the criticisms they received.”43 Although most bibliologists were not concerned with writing lin- ear histoire littéraire à la Goujet, they did conceive of histoire littéraire as a body of learning that they possessed (as we have seen with Colomiès).44 They were fighting with Debure and the other major sell- ers of rare books over the right to determine the value of books. This battle was partly over the meaning of key terms such as rare. For the bibliologists rare mainly meant “relatively scarce” and had no implica- tions for a book’s intrinsic value; for Debure rare mainly meant “sought by curieux” and so was precisely connected to its monetar y value.45 Debure presents himself as merely describing the value attached to copies by the authority of the market, whereas the bibliologist Mercier de Saint-Léger prescribes value to books by using scholarly criteria and the authority of learned bibliographers. For the market, value resided in material, spatial, and also temporal factors extrinsic to the work itself (the materiality of copies, whether they are situated in France or elsewhere, whether they are for sale this year or next, the anecdotes attached to them). By contrast, the values ascribed by what Debure calls the world of littérature, that is, of learning, are intrinsic to the work or edition, like those ascribed by various histories of belles-lettres. How- ever, although this extrinsic-intrinsic opposition is endorsed by Debure himself,46 it is problematic. He calls some works rares less for obviously “extrinsic” reasons (such as their fine illustrations or the anecdotes attached to them) than for potentially “intrinsic” ones, that is, ones to do with reading rather than just collecting. This is especially true of erotica and other books on sexual matters, as well as of books sup- pressed or condemned as heretical, heterodox, or satirical. Debure 43 Goujet, 1:viii–ix. 44 See Mercier de Saint-Léger, 1680. 45 See Viardot, “Livres rares,” 460–1. However, this use of terminology is not entirely stable. Debure does occasionally use rare to denote items that are relatively scarce and yet not sought after, not curieux (e.g., volume on theology, no. 6), as well as using curieux to denote items that are sought after but not rares, by which he here means “relatively scarce” (e.g., volume on belles-lettres, no. 2715). 46 Lettre à M.*** servant de réponse à une critique de la “Bibliographie instructive” (n.p., 1763), 8. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 269 270 MLQ ❙ June 2000 disingenuously argues that these books are rares because of the scan- dalous anecdotes attached to them and also because of their relative scarcity (owing to suppression).47 However, he noticeably almost always provides a titillating comment on their contents,48 whereas most entries in his bibliography include no comment on a work’s contents. The use of the “extrinsic” concerns of bibliomania as a Trojan horse for secret reading practices shows that scholarly bibliology and histoire littéraire were not after all the sole purveyors of “intrinsic” value in the period. Although the clash between Debure and Mercier de Saint- Léger was one between two antagonistic systems of value, its very exis- tence also points to the overlap between those systems, which depended on partly differing, partly overlapping applications of the same key terms. However, by the end of the eighteenth century, a larger gap devel- oped between the systems of value constructed by bibliomania and his- toire littéraire. The bibliomania system seems to have determined value in increasingly precise financial terms. Whereas Debure’s vague quan- tifications of value (rare, assez rare [quite rare]), fort recherché [highly sought], and so on) caused confusion by being partially indistinct from Mercier de Saint-Léger’s scholarly value system, no such confusion is possible in the catalog of Curiosités bibliographiques published by the librarian and historian Etienne Gabriel Peignot in 1804. The books listed are quite simply ones that have fetched more than one thousand francs. Peignot is attempting nothing less than an integration of the two notoriously incommensurable value systems inherent in language and money, describing “the items which we know to be the most curi- ous, financially speaking [ce que nous connaissons de plus curieux sous le rapport de l’estimation pécunaire].”49 Although in subsequent works he 47 E.g., Debure, volume on jurisprudence, sciences, and arts, no. 80; volume on belles-lettres, no. 2868. 48 E.g., Debure, volume on belles-lettres, nos. 2878, 2927, 2978–9, 3040. On the role played by censorship in heightening the desirability of livres rares et curieux see Anne Sauvy, Livres saisis à Paris entre 1678 et 1701 (The Hague: Nijhoff, 1972), 1–21. On censorship and its application see also Daniel Roche, “La Police du livre,” in Martin and Chartier, Le Livre conquérant, 84–91. 49 Peignot, Curiosités bibliographiques (Paris, 1804), xlii. On this incommensura- bility in the case of “curiosity” see Neil Kenny, Curiosity in Early Modern Europe: Word Histories (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz, 1998), 161–3. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 270 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 271 listed books that qualified as “curieux” on other grounds (mostly rem- iniscent of Debure’s criteria) (ii), here he is beginning with the sover- eign financial criterion, “because we believe that the rarest and most curious objects must be in this category” (iv). This canon bears no resemblance to emergent nationalistic ones.50 Even more unashamedly than Debure, Peignot is facilitating and glorifying the self-distinguish- ing buying of fetishized objects by a small, extremely rich elite (iv). His statement that these books are “the most curious, and the richest” is the economic flip side of Goujet’s “riches of learning and literature” metonymy.51 So systematic is Peignot’s monetary account of value that he even takes the logical but astonishing step of extending it to the production as well as the reception of books, listing sums paid to well- known authors by patrons and the like from antiquity to the seven- teenth century (iv–xvi). He does not go quite so far as to say that the best-paid authors produced the best books, but that is the implication. It is as if bibliomania has become an uncanny repository for the stra- tum of economics that has by this time been gradually written out of grand, nationalistic histories of belles-lettres or (by this date) of littérature, which have distanced themselves increasingly from privately owned libraries of the wealthy. This economic stratum is largely absent even from the sociopolitical contexts written into literary history by Madame de Staël in De la littérature considérée dans ses rapports avec les institutions sociales (1800) and even from a celebrated modern particularist survey such as Gustave Lanson’s Histoire de la littérature française (1894). Not that bibliomania became more distant from all varieties of his- toire littéraire in the nineteenth century. It retained close affinities with those particularist, marginal zones of histoire littéraire that were also fre- quently termed curiosités and were constructed as fragments of knowl- edge, not fitting into any chronological grand narrative. For example, a volume on Curiosités bibliographiques (including such bibliomaniacal favorites as incunabula, the destruction of books, and errata) was included in Ludovic Lalanne’s Bibliothèque de poche (1845–47), along with volumes on Curiosités littéraires, Curiosités biographiques, and Curiosités des traditions, des mœurs et des légendes. The whole series is pre- 50 “We are not mentioning modern classics, French or foreign, since there is nothing curious about most of their first editions” (Peignot, ii). 51 For similar occurrences of “riches” see Peignot, iv, xlii. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 271 272 MLQ ❙ June 2000 sented as containing “varied and interesting particulars” from “l’his- toire littéraire” (still in a sense reminiscent of historia litteraria).52 More limited in scope, largely devoted to ana (sayings of the famous) and anecdotes, but more of a best-seller was Isaac Disraeli’s Curiosities of Lit- erature (1791), translated into French in 1810.53 Like bibliomania, these marginal supplements to histoire littéraire carried relatively little cultural capital when compared with nationalistic, grand-narrative monuments emanating from institutions (whether from the Benedic- tine order and the Académie des Inscriptions et des Belles-Lettres in the case of the Histoire literaire de la France or from universities in the case of Lanson). Although bibliomania enjoyed considerable cultural prominence in the second half of the eighteenth century (evidenced by the extent to which it threatened guardians of scholarly histoire lit- téraire, by the buoyancy of the rare books market, and by the amount of space periodicals devoted to sales catalogs and to the controversies sur- rounding bibliomania), it would never again enjoy such centrality in intellectual and cultural debate in France, whereas histoire littéraire would (in its modern guises). Authors and Works in Time By the mid–eighteenth century, libraries and cabinets were sometimes understood not only as literal instruments for the investigation of the history of belles-lettres but also as metaphorical frames within which it could be written. As the case of Goujet shows, where emphasis shifted from literal to figurative spaces it became possible to think of the space of a library as a diachronic time line that was not a synchronic space. All histories of belles-lettres continued to depend more or less on the literal spaces of scholarly libraries and bibliomaniacal cabinets, and on the physical copies that both contained. For example, the scholarly historian of the genre of romance, Pierre-Daniel Huet, laments that it is impossible to confirm whether Martin Fumée’s Du vray et parfait 52 Lalanne, Curiosités littéraires (Paris, 1845), [vii]. 53 It was frequently reprinted in England throughout the nineteenth century. A later example is Roger Alexandre, Le Musée de la conversation: Répertoire de citations françaises, dictons modernes, curiosités littéraires, historiques et anecdotiques, 3d ed. (Paris, 1897). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 272 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 273 amour (1598) really is a translation of a work by Athenagoras rather than an original composition, since the Greek copy Fumée cites has disappeared from circulation, is absent from library catalogs, and “if still extant, must be hidden in the dust of the cabinet either of some ignoramus who unwittingly possesses this treasure, or else of some envious person who could communicate it to the public but does not want to”: in other words, either a bibliomaniac or else a bibliophile.54 However, the dependence on literal spaces seems to have been more irksome to some historians of belles-lettres than to others. In the world of scholars and bibliologists such as Colomiès and Mercier de Saint-Léger, histoire littéraire seems to have been conceived as a sprawl- ing body of knowledge contained not only in works but also in infinite editions and copies and thus too vast to be assimilated by one person or to be written down in systematic form. This view is also evident in a pedagogical treatise such as the Essais sur l’histoire des belles lettres, des s[c]iences et des arts by Félix Juvenel de Carlencas.55 Although this trea- tise has a systematic structure similar (in miniature) to that adopted by Goujet (by discipline, but including the histor y of each discipline, along with its main authors), we are reminded that these are but essais, since authors have only given us “histoire littéraire bit by bit, instead of giving it to us in its entirety and full scope.” The insistent rhetoric of fragmentation gives the impression that not just a library but also still a metaphorical cabinet lurks in the background,56 a compilation of dis- crete items rather than an integrated whole: “Let’s constantly pile up knowledge, one curiosity at a time” (1:viii). Even those fragments, which do not add up to a whole, cannot be gleaned from any single manual but only from a vast range of heterogeneous texts. The list of such “authors of histoire littéraire” (3:55–67) gives an idea of that range, that is, of texts that were counted in this period as histoire littéraire, from 54 Huet, De l’origine des romans (Paris, 1670), 38. In this case, ironically, the dam- age done by bibliomania to the history of the romance genre was probably imagi- nary on Huet’s part, since the “translation” was probably a hoax: see Walther Küch- ler, “Martin Fumée’s Roman Du vray et parfait amour : (Ein Renaissanceroman),” Zeitschrift für französische Sprache und Literatur 37 (1911): 139–47. 55 Carlencas, Essais sur l’histoire des belles lettres, des s[c]iences et des arts, 4 vols. (Lyons, 1749), first published in 1740–44. 56 E.g., “this scattered material” (1:xi); “the different chunks of histoire littéraire which we have” (1:xv). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 273 274 MLQ ❙ June 2000 works on the lives of illustrious practitioners of a particular discipline (Vossius on mathematicians and on Greek and Latin poets, Vasari on artists, Diogenes Laertius on philosophers, Cicero and Quintilian on orators) to works on all disciplines but variously ordered (chronologi- cally over the centuries, limited to one period, to one nation, to the contribution made by one religious order, or to illustrious persons again, but this time across disciplines). On the other hand, some histories of belles-lettres aimed at coverage that their compilers considered complete in some sense or at least more systematic.57 Hence perhaps Huet’s irritation with his phantom bibliomaniac. These histories were equally dependent on literal spaces and the physical copies in them, but their ultimate aim was to produce an ordered narration, accessible to far more people than had access to all the necessary copies on which that narration was based. In other words, this strand strove (to var ying extents) to insert authors and works into time lines and idealized spaces (“France,” the Republic of Letters) that might transcend the literal, material, economics-based spaces of the library, the cabinet, and the market, in which copies were stored and circulated. However, it proved impossible to transcend in this way the material realm, which always reined in these totalizing aspirations characteristic of some histories of belles-lettres. The latter remained dependent on the place-bound copies in which not only their sources were held but they themselves were inscribed. To explore the difficulties of transcending the space-bound copy, I examine two of the major attempts to insert authors and works system- atically into time: first, the genre of illustrious lives; second, the Mau- rist Histoire literaire de la France. The first enjoyed a renewal from the early seventeenth century; the second dates from 1733 on. But both were considered by Juvenel de Carlencas in the 1740s to be examples of “histoire littéraire.” Illustrious Lives Although the genre of illustrious lives dates to antiquity, it received new impetus in seventeenth-century France. When the lives in ques- tion were those of writers, the genre often sought to situate them in an 57 E.g., Goujet, 5:iv. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 274 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 275 idealized time (a past period, now finished and so able to be repre- sented as a totality) and an idealized space (the nation, the Republic of Letters) that transcended actual physical copies of those writer’s works (scattered around the material spaces of libraries),58 as well as tran- scending the physical copy in which the illustrious lives were them- selves inscribed and also the time required to write them. This dynamic certainly does not characterize all instances of the genre to the same extent, but traces of it can be found in most. On the one hand, Scévole de Sainte-Marthe’s eulogies of French sixteenth-century writers (male and female) and Charles Perrault’s lives of seventeenth-century “hommes illustres” (including learning and the “beaux-arts”) do not entirely shut off the new century from the old.59 They claim the closing century’s achievements as cultural capital for the beginning one, which should seek to emulate them, thereby establishing a continuum between past and present. Yet the recent figures they praise can achieve classic status only by being dead and by belonging to a century that is now numerically over. Even this venerated recent past is dead, in contrast to the living present. This making of monuments also involves a transition from the private space of a librar y to the public, national prestige of a written histor y, as becomes clear when Perrault explains how his eulogies came to be published together with the engraved portraits. His patron, Michel Bégon, a royal-appointed administrator in law and shipping, initially commissioned paintings for his own library, but, “not being satisfied just with adorning this library with their portraits, he wanted to honor them more and satisfy the public by putting them in everyone’s hands” (1:a iiiv; my italics).60 So he had engravings made of them, with accom- panying prose eulogies. Although the sense of a dead, semiclosed period is strong in Scév- 58 On this genre’s functions within the Republic of Letters see A. Goldgar, Impo- lite Learning: Conduct and Community in the Republic of Letters, 1680–1750 (New Haven, Conn.: Yale University Press, 1995), 147–9. 59 Scévole de Sainte-Marthe, Eloges des hommes illustres, qui depuis un siecle ont fleury en France dans la profession des lettres (Paris, 1654), first published in Latin in 1598; Perrault, Les Hommes illustres qui ont paru en France pendant ce siecle, 2 vols. (Paris, 1696–1700). 60 There were seven thousand printed books as well as manuscripts, medals, engravings, and paintings in Bégon’s library when he died in 1710. See Balteau, Bar- roux, and Prévost. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 275 276 MLQ ❙ June 2000 ole de Sainte-Marthe and Perrault, that past is not yet constructed as a single overarching time line. Traces of such a time line do exist in Scév- ole de Sainte-Marthe, but Perrault’s lives are organized by profession (ecclesiastics, “hommes de lettres,” and so on), thereby providing a mondain equivalent of a more learned author- (but not life-) based sur- vey such as Adrien Baillet’s Jugemens des savants sur les principaux ouvrages des auteurs (1685–86). In a similar vein, a past period is structured more by disciplines than as a time line in the cleric Claude-François Lambert’s Histoire lit- teraire du regne de Louis XIV and in Voltaire’s Siècle de Louis XIV (both 1751, too late to be mentioned by Juvenel de Carlencas), which closely resemble the vitæ genre but now merge their eulogies into a discursive framework instead of having a separate entry for each life. Both again divide the recent past from the living present, styling themselves as standing outside a period that is dead in the sense that it is finished, a “siècle” now in the sense of “age” rather than “numerical century,” delimited not only at its end but also, even more sharply, at its begin- ning, since it is radically discontinuous with the denigrated past that preceded it. The period of Louis XIV is identified as the pinnacle of national cultural achievement, potentially continuous with the present (in that the present seeks further cultural “progress” still) and yet also fenced off as a monument by a chronological cutoff point. Lambert’s and Voltaire’s surveys of disciplines and subject areas mainly take the form of eulogies of individuals. Compared even with Goujet, such surveys entail a concerted attempt to transcend particu- larism: with a few exceptions, Lambert’s highly sketchy and uneven bibliographical information relates to works, not to copies or even editions. Many works are not even dated by him. Voltaire goes even further: his chapter (32) on written “beaux-arts,” in keeping with his general distaste for dotting the i’s in historiography,61 is entirely unconcerned with editions and copies, understanding “books” not as material objects existing in literal space but as “works” and “produc- tions of genius.” Adopting a more recognizably modern conception of “littérature” than Lambert,62 he associates it with eloquence, poetry, 61 See Anthony Grafton, The Footnote: A Curious History (London: Faber, 1997), 95. 62 Voltaire, Le Siècle de Louis XIV, ed. A. Adam, 2 vols. (Paris: Garnier-Flammar- ion, 1966), 1:45. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 276 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 277 ethics, entertainment, and focuses on the modern classics (Racine et al.), exactly the kind of work later specifically excluded from Etienne Peignot’s manual for bibliomaniacs (1804). Unlike Lambert, Voltaire does work his eulogies of individuals within a certain discipline (such as “beaux-arts”) into a chronological narrative. So by the mid–eighteenth century it was just becoming possible to insert illustrious lives into an overall chronological narrative that could represent the littérature of a closed, past period. However, the genre of illustrious lives did not always have such totalizing aims. Indeed, the most substantial French example was not founded on a distinction between past and present and was not itself styled as a finished histori- cal narrative, standing outside time and space: Jean-Pierre Nicéron’s Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire des hommes illustres dans la République des Lettres.63 Here are “mémoires” toward a histor y rather than a com- pleted, totalizing histor y in themselves. Far from standing outside time, their own gradual writing and publication are emphatically situ- ated in historical time: “Besides, this is only a tentative sketch [un essay] . . . the gaps and defects of which will only be repaired by time and industry. . . . Such is the lot of dictionaries, library catalogues, and other such books: they appear first in an imperfect state and are only dragged out of it in time, by the observations and criticisms of those who read them” (1:[a vv]–[a vir]; my italics).64 The appeal for public help in a communal enterprise is common in histories of belles-lettres written in this period, but Nicéron is unusually explicit in linking this help to the time of composition and publication. This work, after all, is a periodical, and so the chronological time of its own researching, writ- ing, and publishing outweighs any of the other times, places, or orders that its critics would like to see imposed on the subject matter (whether historical chronology, nation-based order, or alphabetical): “I admit that, in a complete work . . . one of those orders would have to be followed. . . . But I think that would be pretty useless in a periodical 63 Nicéron, Mémoires pour servir à l’histoire des hommes illustres dans la République des Lettres, 45 vols. (Paris, 1729–45). 64 By evoking the time taken to compile not libraries but librar y catalogs, Nicéron is distancing his project one step further from physical libraries, as opposed to ones represented in writing. Yet that spatial model has still not entirely disap- peared. On the relation of his project to physical and metaphorical libraries see also 1:a iir. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 277 278 MLQ ❙ June 2000 work [Ouvrage periodique] like mine” (3:[a vv]). Not that the Mémoires are altogether immune from the recent emergence of chronological narrative in histories of belles-lettres. Such a narrative is confined to a vir- tual presence here. With the exception of the first volume, all the rest, randomly structured, end with a table listing that volume’s “hommes illustres” in order of their dates of death, making it theoretically possi- ble for readers to merge these tables into their own single overall time line, should they wish. The sheer heterogeneity of the genre of illustrious lives is a sign of the tensions and problems within it. These difficulties were nowhere more evident than in the fortunes, from the early seventeenth to the late nineteenth century, of a famous mammoth contribution to the genre, Guillaume Colletet’s Histoire générale et particulière des poètes françois, anciens et modernes, contenant leurs vies, suivant l’ordre chrono- logique, le jugement de leurs écrits imprimés.65 Whereas later contributions settled for a high degree of generality (Voltaire) or particularism (Nicéron), Colletet was aiming at both, as his totalizing title indicates. His work, which was understood in all subsequent centuries as histoire littéraire, provides by far the most extensive early example of a single overall chronological framework being adopted in a history of French belles-lettres in a narrow sense (taking up from Pasquier, for example).66 One date (albeit inconsistently calculated) is given for each writer and determines his or her position in the chronological structure.67 By gathering an enormous amount of information from relatively inac- cessible places, ordering it according to the time of the historical actors rather than (as in Nicéron’s case) the time of its own composi- tion, Colletet, a charter member of the Académie Française, seems to have come as close as anyone to creating a public, nationalistic monu- ment of belles-lettres. Yet its conflicting aims made it impossible to com- plete. Moreover, far from encapsulating the whole of its historical object and so transcending time and place, it was haunted and eventu- 65 See Paul Bonnefon, “Contribution à un essai de restitution du manuscrit de G. Colletet, intitulé Vies des poètes françois,” Revue d’histoire littéraire de la France 2 (1895): 59. 66 See Mortgat, Clio au Parnasse. 67 The single year marked by Colletet for each poet indicates either when the poet died, when a major work by that poet appeared, or roughly when the poet lived (see Bonnefon, 72n). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 278 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 279 ally destroyed by the specificity of its own existence in time and place. When Colletet died in 1659, he had written some 450 or so lives and seems to have been close to finishing. Some of the most obvious gaps (Agrippa d’Aubigné, Philippe Desportes, François de Malherbe, Théophile de Viau) were recent poets whom Colletet knew best, and so he probably intended to devote lengthy entries to them.68 Thus it could be argued that the noncompletion and by the same token the nonpublication were necessary rather than contingent given the scope of the project (“anciens et modernes”), which would always have labored to catch up with recent major developments. The precious manuscript inhabited a series of specific places over the next 212 years, in five boxes in 1730 and in four volumes when in its final resting place, the Bibliothèque du Louvre, from 1803 or later.69 Exhortations “to give it to the public,”70 emanating from the scholarly community, predate Colletet’s death and continued for over two centuries, frustrated by factors obvious (such as finance) and not so obvious. Even in the seventeenth century, Colletet’s son François trumpeted it in advance of his intended publication as “awaited for more than thirty years.”71 A later project to publish it together with the Bibliothèque choisie of Colomiès, presumably as a different but comple- mentar y form of histoire littéraire, also came to nothing, and the Colomiès edition appeared on its own in 1731.72 Although some in the eighteenth century were granted access to the manuscript, others were not, among them Goujet and Mercier de Saint-Léger.73 Goujet there- fore sought to liberate the manuscript from a single specific space by laboriously recomposing it, in the form of several volumes (devoted to 68 Bonnefon, 60. On Colletet’s manuscript and its fortunes see Bonnefon, “Con- tribution”; and Léopold Pannier, “Essai de restitution du manuscrit de Guillaume Colletet,” Revue critique d’histoire et de littérature 52 (1870): 324–38. 69 See Bonnefon, 59–60; and Lenita Locey, Michael Locey, and Janis L. Pallister, introduction to Vies des poètes tourangeaux, by Guillaume Colletet (Paris: PFSCL, 1989), v. 70 Gilles Ménage (1666), quoted in Bonnefon, 61–2. 71 See Bonnefon, 61. 72 A privilège had been granted to Gabriel Martin and others to print the two works together: see Bonnefon, 63; Colomiès, sigs. [Kk v v]–[Kk vi v]. Martin was a key figure in the new bibliomania market too, preparing the 1725 Du Fay catalog, for example. 73 See Bonnefon, 64–6. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 279 280 MLQ ❙ June 2000 French poets) of his Bibliotheque françoise, without having set eyes on it: “I resolved on doing what I imagine that Colletet did himself ” (9:vi).74 Goujet presumably considers his and Colletet’s versions as two incar- nations of one transcendent history of French poetry, above time and place, a fantasy subsequently shared by Sainte-Beuve, who argued that there was no need to publish Colletet, since everything was now in Goujet anyway.75 A cruel test of this theory occurred when, five years after the latest call in print for the manuscript’s publication (“The his- tory of poets is part of the history of the very nation”),76 it was burned to cinders in the Paris Commune. Although manuscript reproduction had ensured that almost half of the lives had been “saved,” either tran- scribed or summarized by scholars,77 most of the near monument had vanished. Far from transcending space, time, and the market, this manuscript histoire littéraire remained emphatically material, mortal, and until its end always had a specific price tag on it as a collector’s item.78 The Maurist Histoire literaire de la France Another mammoth attempt at a totalizing, finished histor y, in this instance with apparently better chances of completion owing to a cen- turies-long distance between its dead, circumscribed object and its own composition, is the Histoire literaire de la France, published in Paris from 1733 to 1763 by the Benedictines of the Congrégation de Saint- Maur (famous for their large-scale erudite works), edited until 1749 by Dom Rivet (André Rivet de la Grange), and then taken up in 1814 by the Académie des Inscriptions et des Belles-Lettres, which by 1985 had reached the fourteenth century.79 This work situates itself even more outside the time of its historical object than does, say, Voltaire. The Histoire literaire incorporates illustrious lives into a grand chrono- logical narrative of a distant past. Yet the implicit notion that this dis- 74 See also 11:xii–xiii. 75 See Bonnefon, 70. 76 Gaston Paris, quoted in Bonnefon, 70. 77 See Locey, Locey, and Pallister, vi. 78 It fetched 145 livres in 1799 and was on sale for 222 livres in 1803 (see Bon- nefon, 59, 64–6). 79 On this work see Moisan, 69–71. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 280 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 281 tance makes the narrative easier to complete, its historical object being distant from the unfinished present, becomes problematic gi- ven that the time of the work’s actual composition is still ticking away so slowly. Emanating even more than Goujet’s work from the world of eru- dite Gallican clergy rather than from that of mondain and courtly hon- nêteté, this relatively inclusive history is one of learning, not of belles-let- tres in the moderne sense. Its one major break with the tradition of historia litteraria is that it is written in French rather than Latin. Whereas in Goujet’s history the term bibliothèque becomes detached from any literal library, here history has, at least in principle, become detached from even any figurative librar y. Not only is the familiar, almost expected term bibliothèque absent from the title, but the overall structure is chronologically linear, departing both from library subject classifications (which Goujet had reflected) and from the standard schema that had been adopted by booksellers. Moreover, unlike “une simple Bibliothéque choisie” (Histoire literaire, 2:vii), which can include only writers who have left material traces in the form of books, this his- tory is free to include writers for whom no such metonymic object is extant. The time line of histoire littéraire can open up a whole world beyond that of physical objects stored or circulating in specific places. That further world includes idealized versions of works that do exist in print, but only imperfectly: of Lactantius we read that “we do not have his works exactly as they flowed from his pen” (12:87). The replacement of library by history does not mean that space is banished from the editors’ conceptualization of the project. On the contrary, vaster, more intangible, public, and to some extent imaginary spaces now become identified with the contents of the huge work: the nation and the Republic of Letters (1.1:ii,vi).80 Whereas Goujet’s use of the term bibliothèque points to the fact that his history is of books printed, the Benedictines’ history is of the learning of “France” from its “origins.” It is a history not of French learning, nor of learning in French, but of learning in “France,” whose changing borders are care- fully defined. It includes not only the French and the Gauls but also, through a rather vague residence requirement, anyone else who 80 On the Republic of Letters as a space in the mind see Goldgar, esp. 2–3. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 281 282 MLQ ❙ June 2000 sojourned there, preferably dying there too (Histoire literaire, 1.1:vi–x). Hence the inclusion of the likes of Petronius (claimed to have been born near Marseilles) and Lactantius (claimed to have died in Gaul) (1.1:187, 1.2:65). It is as if, at the moment when libraries and cabinets were losing their monopoly as models for the literal or figurative col- lection of texts, the idealized space of the nation, as well as the time of history, was taking over as the new arena for collection, an arena con- structed to transcend the economics and social distinctions of actual current book ownership. The detachment from literal libraries enables the Benedictines, like Goujet, to pursue the prestige of the nation, not of individual collectors: ownership of this immense corpus, this “public wealth [bien public]” (1.1:ii), is metaphorically reassigned from collec- tors to nation. As with Goujet’s “riches of learning and literature,” the figurative trope occults economics. However, this histor y remains profoundly dependent on literal spaces, libraries and cabinets, without which it could not have been composed, all the more so because it supplements its declared focus on writers and works (1.1:xi–xii) with extensive information about edi- tions and indeed copies, printed and manuscript. The information provides the crucial epistemological authority designed to prevent this history from becoming fiction (“to show that we back up everything with proof” [1.1:xxv]). The proofs emanate from the world of schol- arly bibliology and even from that of bibliomania: the strain of com- bining this sea of particularism with the general outline of a history is enormous. No wonder that Goujet can only point in humble awe at this project and that it remains unfinished still. Modern literary his- tory, an eventual remote descendant of such early modern histoire lit- téraire, would eventually cut itself much more adrift from this episte- mological anchor embedded in the materiality of the world of libraries, cabinets, and bibliomania. To secure the anchor, margin references to numerous libraries, cabinets, and/or their catalogs accompany the discussion of editions and copies. Although many are great monastic, royal, or legal libraries, a few are collections amassed wholly or partly along bibliomaniacal lines, such as those of Jean-Baptiste Colbert and his librarian Etienne Baluze, Jean and Emery Bigot, Henri-Charles du Cambout de Coislin, Charles-Jérôme du Fay, or D. de Lorchere (lieutenant-général of Le MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 282 Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 283 Mans).81 For example, four editions of Petronius seem known to the editors only through their existence in Lorchere’s relatively obscure, probably provincial cabinet (Histoire literaire, 1.1:204–5),82 an unlikely foundation for part of a towering edifice of histoire littéraire. This extraordinar y degree of particularism hardly favors the onward march of general historical narration. Indeed, because of the impossibility of merging the two harmoniously, the overall historical narrative is confined to a “historical discourse” on institutions of learn- ing and the like given at the start of the treatment of each era (1.1:xviii) and to a chronological table given at the end. The bulk is taken up by discrete author entries that descend into detailed particularism and lose sight of the historical ebbs and flows advertised on the title page. Rivet justifies this organization by revealing the continued proximity of his ambitious project to the genre of illustrious lives, arguing that “l’Histoire literaire” is structurally more akin to hagiography than to the continuous narrative of ecclesiastical or political history (1.1:xxii). 81 Colbert: The references are to the 1728 sales catalog of Colbert’s great library, which was perceived by contemporaries as both learned and bibliomaniacal, as containing both “every great corpus of works” and also “most of the books that can be recommended for their rarity, singularity, and exorbitant pecuniary value” ( Journal des scavans, June 1728, 376; quoted by Denise Bloch, “La Bibliothèque de Colbert,” in Jolly, 165). Baluze: The references are to the 1719 sales catalog of Baluze’s personal library. So well disposed was he toward curieux bibliomaniacs that for their sakes he stipulated that it should not be sold to any single buyer. The exor- bitant prices fetched by his books signaled the arrival of bibliomania as a market force. See Bléchet, 73; Bloch, 178n; and Viardot, “Livres rares,” 451. Bigot: The ref- erences are to the 1706 sales catalog of the Bigot library in Rouen, which contained about 200 incunabula and 522 manuscripts among its 21,000 or so volumes. See Jean-Dominique Mellot, “Rouen au XVIIe siècle,” in Jolly, 462. Coislin: The refer- ences are to the 1715 sales catalog of the Greek manuscripts in Coislin’s library, which had formerly been that of the chancellor Pierre Séguier, who was both an erudite humanist and a bibliophile interested in the beauty or rarity of copies. On Séguier’s library see Yannick Nexon, “La Bibliothèque du chancelier Séguier,” in Jolly, 146–55. Du Fay: The references are to the 1725 sales catalog. On this famous sale and its exorbitant prices see Viardot, “Livres rares,” 451. Lorchere: There is no reference to a sales catalog. Instead, Rivet or his agents seem to have had direct access to the library of Lorchere, “who enriches it every day with curious and choice books” (Histoire literaire, 1.1:xlii). 82 The lists of sources at the start of each tome of the Histoire literaire show that Colbert is referred to in volumes 1–4; Baluze in 1, 2, and 4–6; the Bigot family in 4–6, 9, and 11; Coislin in 1; Du Fay in 8 and 9; and Lorchere in 1 and 2. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 283 Rivet describes the tension between the general and the particular as one between a unified “body of history” and fragmentary “curious things” (1.1:xviii).83 Here again, even in this totalizing work there lurks, as in the Essais sur l’histoire des belles lettres of Juvenel de Carlencas, the shadow of the cabinet, the assemblage of heterogeneous objects that can be united only by the labor of their collector. Indeed, Rivet describes the Benedictine history in terms remarkably reminiscent of contemporary descriptions of cabinets, such as that of Cangé. Here are Rivet’s words: the industry and care that must be applied in order to establish such harmonious connections between those discrete facts that they make up a uniform, quasi-natural whole. (1.1:v) It is from the known monuments of the learning [literature] of Gaul and France —sought with care, brought together with method, put in their natural order, explained at due length, accompanied by appropriate connections — that we are forming our Histoire literaire de la France. (1.1:xix) The following description of Cangé’s cabinet was published in the same year, 1733, as the words above: One of those coherent bodies, which inspire such respect through the correspondence and unity of their parts that they cannot be separated without a kind of violence and cruelty. . . . Formed by assiduous labor over many years. . . . It is a precious child, nurtured with much care. (Catalogue des livres du cabinet de M. [Cangé], [i–ii]) Rivet hesitates between calling his historical schema “naturel” or “comme naturel.” If it is not authentically “naturel,” then his “for- mons,” like Cangé’s “formé,” denotes the active creation of structure, in which case Rivet is on a par with the collector, “the master of the cabinet”([ii]). On the whole, the largely anonymous presentation of the Histoire literaire moves away from any such notion of collector-like creation, but it is not totally absent. The tensions between bibliomania and early modern histories of learn- ing and belles-lettres were perhaps eventually dissipated with the emer- 284 MLQ ❙ June 2000 83 For “corps” see also 1.1:ii, 2:ix. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 284 gence of a distant modern successor to those histories — literary his- tory, which has always enjoyed far more cultural capital than the pri- vate world of the bibliomaniac. The eventual occupation of the cul- tural high ground by literary history is partly a story of public, national narratives winning out over private spaces. For early members of the winning side, such as Voltaire, the narratives spawned by histories of belles-lettres are ones of cultural progress, and it is tempting with hind- sight to collude with those winners by seeing the very emergence of early modern histoire littéraire and then of modern literary history as itself another sign of that progress, since these seem to be higher life forms that democratically distribute cultural capital to the general public, regardless of wealth, in contrast with the shamelessly individu- alistic elitism of bibliomania. However, this interpretation is only one possibility. Nationalistic histories, whether early modern ones of belles-lettres or modern ones of “literature,” can also be viewed as seeking to repress (to var ying extents) the spatial, material, and economic dimensions of book recep- tion, collection, and ownership that were flaunted in bibliomania. Even early modern histoire littéraire of the most particularist kind fell far short of the particularism of bibliomania in this respect. The motives for this repression may often have been, from a modern perspective, praiseworthy, the hope being that the inequities arising from connec- tions between economics and book reception would vanish. Even the vernacular canons that took shape in the mid–eighteenth century and are now usually villains in the history of literary history can be under- stood as part of this apparently praiseworthy project,84 reducing the number of works in which cultural capital is located, fostering the mass print reproduction of those works and so undermining the links between the prestigious work and the singular, expensive copy. How- ever, not only did those canons eventually exclude for ideological rea- sons vast swathes of past book production (such as much women’s writ- ing), as has come to be recognized, but they also tended to occult what continued to be the material connection between book reception and economics (and therefore class and gender), blurring that connection Kenny ❙ Books in Space and Time 285 84 For a succinct account of the rise of vernacular canons see Joan DeJean, “1700: Classics in the Making,” in A New History of French Literature, ed. Denis Hollier (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1989), 391–6. MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 285 in a haze of ideological mystification rather than destroying it. So the distance established by some early modern histories of belles-lettres between themselves and the economic, the spatial, the material is another example to be added to the list of systems and concepts (such as “interest”) to have drifted from the realm of the economic to that of the intellect.85 And yet, as can be seen from recent socioeconomic his- tories of reception and reading,86 the fact that early modern biblioma- nia gave radical particularism a bad name is no reason to exclude new versions of such particularism from modern literary history. 286 MLQ ❙ June 2000 85 On “interest” see Kenny, 143–52. 86 Esp. works by Roger Chartier and Robert Darnton, such as Chartier, Lectures et lecteurs; and Darnton, The Forbidden Best-Sellers of Pre-Revolutionary France (New York: Norton, 1995). MLQ 61.2-01Kenny.ak 5/26/00 3:49 PM Page 286 
work_r2jgsxdmmnfrzlqpeehugxnjp4	----	“Mathematics makes no contribution to the public weal”: Edinburgh Research Explorer ‘Mathematics Made No Contribution to the Public Weal’ Citation for published version: Henry, J 2011, '‘Mathematics Made No Contribution to the Public Weal’: Why Jean Fernel (1497–1558) Became a Physician', Centaurus, vol. 53, no. 3, pp. 193-220. https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1600- 0498.2011.00234.x Digital Object Identifier (DOI): 10.1111/j.1600-0498.2011.00234.x Link: Link to publication record in Edinburgh Research Explorer Document Version: Peer reviewed version Published In: Centaurus Publisher Rights Statement: This is the pre-peer reviewed version of the following article: Henry, J. (2011). ‘Mathematics Made No Contribution to the Public Weal’: Why Jean Fernel (1497–1558) Became a Physician. Centaurus, 53(3), 193- 220, which has been published in final form at http://dx.doi.org/10.1111/j.1600-0498.2011.00234.x General rights Copyright for the publications made accessible via the Edinburgh Research Explorer is retained by the author(s) and / or other copyright owners and it is a condition of accessing these publications that users recognise and abide by the legal requirements associated with these rights. Take down policy The University of Edinburgh has made every reasonable effort to ensure that Edinburgh Research Explorer content complies with UK legislation. If you believe that the public display of this file breaches copyright please contact openaccess@ed.ac.uk providing details, and we will remove access to the work immediately and investigate your claim. Download date: 06. Apr. 2021 https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1600-0498.2011.00234.x https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1600-0498.2011.00234.x https://doi.org/10.1111/j.1600-0498.2011.00234.x https://www.research.ed.ac.uk/portal/en/publications/mathematics-made-no-contribution-to-the-public-weal(31c98b84-dab9-46e8-b3ed-43e4cfd99333).html ‘Mathematics made no contribution to the public weal’: Why Jean Fernel (1497-1558) became a Physician [Centaurus, 53 (2011), pp. 193-220.] Introduction The historiography of the Scientific Revolution has always recognised the importance of mathematics in re-shaping natural knowledge and the practices associated with it during the late Renaissance and early modern periods. The historians of science who first forged the notion of a Scientific Revolution tended to interpret the historical developments in terms of elite natural philosophers (or even just “scientists”) recognising the importance of mathematics and deliberately introducing it into their attempts to understand the natural world. More recently, however, historians have realised the importance of a fairly extensive array of different mathematical practitioners, and have tended to see the Scientific Revolution as resulting from their innovations in both theory and practice. Mathematicians, not natural philosophers, showed the way to using mathematics in the understanding of the world. 1 This recent work marks an important historiographical development, which has undoubtedly added to our understanding of the development of early modern attempts to establish knowledge of the physical world, and the best methods of discovering that knowledge. As such, it is a vast improvement on the earlier historiography. It seems to me, however, that the new historiography is tainted with some of the flaws inherent in the earlier historical accounts. Pioneers such as Alexandre Koyré, A. Rupert Hall, R. S. Westfall, and others, tended to give a teleological account, coloured by their knowledge that mathematics is such a crucially important part of the physical sciences of our day. Since every modern scientist Page 2 of 50 knows that mathematics is important, the historiographical argument seemed to run, an innovatory scientist in the past would have recognised it too (and in so doing would have confirmed his genius, and the fact that he was “ahead of his time”). In this kind of historical scenario, Galileo and Kepler were portrayed as physicists who recognised for the first time that physics should be firmly based on mathematical analysis of the natural world. Clearly, we’ve come a long way since then, and there is no denying the richness and nuanced authenticity of the history revealed in the more recent historiography. Even so, there seems to be a tendency among early modern historians of the physical sciences to regard the rise of mathematics, once its relevance was recognised, as inevitable and inexorable. Historiographical teleology and presentism still linger. Part of the aim of this paper is to counter this tendency by reminding ourselves of the difficulties that lay in the way of the ‘mathematization of the world picture’. Far from being inexorable, or inevitable, there were many obstacles in the way that might have undermined the enterprise of mathematical physics altogether, and certainly delayed what we might regard as its eventual triumph by a couple of centuries. The mathematization of the world picture was a long and slow process. But this is not to say that the Scientific Revolution also had to mark time, so to speak, until non-mathematicians were made to realise the importance, indeed the indispensability, of mathematics. I am not offering here an explanation of why the ‘Revolution’ took such a long time to be accomplished (much less suggesting that the delay was entirely due to opposition to mathematics). Rather, my point is that there was much more to the Scientific Revolution than the mathematization of the world picture. And I do not mean by this simply to point out the obvious fact that there were also contemporary innovations outside the physical sciences. We need to bear in mind Page 3 of 50 that, before the mathematization of the world picture, there was a majority of natural philosophers who believed that mathematics was not relevant to, much less necessary for, an understanding of the physics of the world. For such thinkers, the process of reforming scholastic natural philosophy, even in those parts of it which we would characterize as the physical sciences, could proceed perfectly well without any help from mathematics. Indeed, they had very good reasons for supposing that, if the reform of natural philosophy was to succeed, it must do so without making any diversions into the realm of mathematics. This is precisely why historians of the Scientific Revolution have found themselves turning from natural philosophers to mathematicians in order to understand developments. Only mathematicians saw the importance of mathematics, but they did not have it all their own way. On the contrary, many natural philosophers either dismissed the relevance of mathematics, or simply failed to regard it. I have argued elsewhere that the claims in recent historiography that early modern mathematicians were chiefly responsible for introducing the experimental method into natural philosophy have been overstated (Henry, 2011). In this paper, I want to address the assumption, explicit or implicit in modern accounts, that mathematics was recognised in the early modern period, as it is today, as inherently useful. In fact, the usefulness of mathematics was by no means apparent, even to the learned, in early modern Europe. For a complete understanding of the mathematization of the world picture, we need to look not just at the mathematicians, but at those who had little regard for mathematics. I want to illustrate this by considering a single case study, although I will try to use it to make some more general observations. The case study concerns the eventual career choice of a would-be mathematician, by the name of Jean Fernel. This Page 4 of 50 is, indeed, the same Jean Fernel now known to history as one of the most innovatory and influential medical thinkers of the sixteenth century. Biographical evidence suggests, however, that Fernel tried to make a name for himself, and a living, as a mathematical practitioner, before he completely abandoned mathematics for medicine. Fernel’s achievements as a mathematician were not inconsiderable, but they have attracted scant scholarly attention. Another aim of this paper, therefore, is to consider for the first time, Fernel the mathematician. The major source of information about Fernel’s life and work (apart from Fernel’s own writings) is a short biography written by his secretary for the last ten years of his life, the physician and humanist scholar Guillaume Plancy (1514–ca. 1568), who had previously been a student of the French humanist scholar Guillaume Budé, and had worked with him until his death in 1540. 2 Although the best source, Plancy’s Vita is by no means impeccable, and shows some inconsistencies; it is important, therefore, before going any further, to be aware of its shortcomings. Plancy wrote the biography after Fernel’s death, but we do not know how long after. Plancy was definitely dead by 1574, and was reported to have died in 1568. His life of Fernel was not published until 1607, and there is evidence that Plancy had not properly refined and finished it, and that the manuscript from which it was published was in poor physical condition (Sherrington, 1946, pp. 147-50). But, even if we assume Plancy wrote the biography in 1558, it is clear that he did not have first hand knowledge of Fernel’s life before he began to work for him, in about 1548. In what follows, we are chiefly concerned with the period from about 1524 to 1530. The account of this period (as we shall see) includes some notable personal details of Fernel’s working and family life, but we have no way to check these against any other source. 3 It seems unlikely (being too impertinent and disrespectful) that Plancy would Page 5 of 50 have fabricated his own account of these matters, but it is important to bear in mind that what he wrote was based on Fernel’s recollections of a period many years before, and must inevitably have been coloured by Plancy’s own preoccupations. For our purposes, however, the important aspect of Plancy’s account of this early part of Fernel’s career is the attitude to mathematics that it displays. It seems to me that, even if (as seems likely) this aspect has been embellished by Plancy’s own scant regard for mathematics, it was not gratuitously intruded into the biography by Plancy. In what follows, therefore, I shall assume that Plancy’s Vita gives a fairly honest account of these episodes in Fernel’s life. But even if this is not the case, and Plancy offers in these parts of the Vita what we would consider to be a largely fictionalised account to enable him to promote his own anti-mathematical stance, it does not undermine my point. Either way, the case study shows anti-mathematical attitudes; as held by Fernel’s family (and conceded by Fernel himself) in the 1520s, or as held by Plancy sometime in the period between 1558 and 1574 (to say nothing of the opinions held by the several publishers who included the Vita in successive editions of Fernel’s Universa medicina from 1607 to 1680) (Sherrington, 1946, pp. 149-50). 4 Jean Fernel, mathematician Jean Fernel became one of the most historically significant medical thinkers of the sixteenth century. At a time when severe cracks were beginning to show in the edifices of both Galenism, and the Aristotelian natural philosophy with which it was so closely linked, Fernel was one of only three thinkers who tried to develop a revised system of medical theory. 5 The other two would-be reformers were Paracelsus, leading promoter of iatrochemistry, and Girolamo Fracastoro, the author of De Page 6 of 50 contagione (1546), in which discussion of the causative “seeds” of disease has often been seen as a foreshadowing of germ theory. 6 Historiographically speaking, therefore, Fernel is in distinguished company. This portrait of Jean Fernel, which first appeared in his Medicina (Paris, 1554), sig. *iiiv, is the only known contemporary likeness. The son of a successful furrier and innkeeper, Fernel was born at Montdidier in the diocese of Amiens, and although he moved with his family to Clermont, near Paris, when he was twelve years old, he always designated himself as ‘of Amiens’ (Ambianus). He took a Master’s degree from the Collège de Ste Barbe, of the University of Paris, in 1519 and subsequently taught philosophy there while studying for the doctorate in medicine, which he was awarded in 1530. He lectured on Hippocrates and Galen at the Collège de Cornouailles for six years until his medical practice became so successful that he was forced to give up teaching. It was at this time, however, that he wrote the work (completed by 1538) which he later published Page 7 of 50 as De abditis rerum causis (1548; Fernel, 2005). This offered a new theory of contagious and pestilential diseases, which had always been anomalous with regard to ancient theories of disease. Fernel’s new theory moved closer to what historians of medicine, following Owsei Temkin (1977), call an ontological concept, rather than a physiological concept of disease (in which diseases are regarded as having their own independent existence, as opposed to being merely the result of an imbalance of the four bodily humours). Fernel saw his new theory as additional to, not a replacement for, Galenic theory and accordingly decided to clarify the nature and extent of the standard theory, before publishing his own. The result was the fullest exposition of Renaissance Galenism ever written, the De naturali parte medicina of 1542. For subsequent editions Fernel appropriated the term physiologia (which then signified the study of nature in general) as the title of this work (Fernel, 2003), and so gave rise to the modern usage of ‘physiology’ as the study of living systems. Fernel’s reputation as a practitioner increased after he succeeded in curing the serious illness of Diane de Poitiers (1499–1566), beloved mistress of Prince Henri (1519–99). At this time, Fernel feigned an illness of his own in order to avoid taking the post of chief physician to Henri, and when Henri became king in 1547 he avoided this post again by saying the position was the hereditary right of Henri’s father’s chief physician. Fernel ran out of excuses in 1556 and finally accepted the post of royal physician. Fernel attended the king at Calais in January 1557, when Henri brought an end to the English occupation, but he died at Fontainebleau the following year. It should be clear from this brief biography that in his day Fernel was recognised as one of the most successful medical practitioners in Europe, and inspired a group of followers, “more numerous than soldiers from the Trojan horse” (Sherrington, 1946, p. 155; Fernel, 1607, sig. *7v) who practised medicine all over Europe. 7 Furthermore, as a would-be Page 8 of 50 reformer of medical theory it seems fair to say that his influence upon his contemporaries was at least as great as Fracastoro’s, and even rivalled that of Paracelsus (particularly among more conservative thinkers who found Paracelsianism hard to stomach). In view of all this, it might seem that Fernel’s interest in medicine was bred in the bone, and that his achievement must have been the result of an unwavering commitment to medicine from an early age. In fact, this was very definitely not the case. Although devoted in his youth to assiduous study—so much so that he was only forced to break off his studies when overwork caused him to succumb to a ‘quartan fever’—Fernel initially had no thought of any particular career. It was only after the enforced convalescence following this fever, when Fernel was already 27, that he ‘began to talk over with his friends the career he should take up’ (Sherrington, 1946, p. 151; Fernel, 1607, sig. *4v). Rejecting divinity and jurisprudence, Plancy says that he chose medicine. Even then, however, Fernel spent a couple of years devoted to ‘studies introductory to medicine’, namely philosophy and mathematics. Study for the MD took four years, Plancy tells us, and we known Fernel completed his MD in 1530. It was only in 1526 therefore, at the age of 29, that Fernel took up medicine. Even then, however, Fernel was evidently not fully committed. After the ‘first two years of basic work for the doctorate’, when many of Fernel’s fellow students were awarded ‘a first class’, Fernel only achieved a second class award. Plancy suggests that this was merely because Fernel, unlike his first class fellows, did not resort to bribes: ‘A “first” would assuredly have been granted’, Plancy wrote, ‘had the furnishing of his purse been equal to that of his head’ (Sherrington, 1946, p. 153; Fernel, 1607, sig.sig. *5r). There was another significant factor, however, which might explain Fernel’s comparative underachievement in medicine. In precisely these first two years of his Page 9 of 50 medical studies, Fernel published three significant mathematical books. In spite of opting formally for a career in medicine, it seems that, at the outset of his working life, Fernel wanted nothing so much as to make a name for himself as a mathematician. Now, in some respects Fernel’s simultaneous interest in both medicine and mathematics is not as surprising as it may seem to modern readers. Although these two areas of study now seem widely separated to us, this was certainly not the case in Fernel’s time. Although the mathematical quadrivium was regarded as propaedeutic to the studies in each of the higher faculties (theology, law and medicine), geometry and astronomy, in conjunction with astrology, continued to be taught at more advanced levels in the faculty of medicine. It was not unusual, therefore, to find the most advanced mathematicians working not in the Arts Faculties but in the Medical Schools. 8 Furthermore, many leading physicians at this time also published works in mathematics. Consider, for example, Alessandro Achillini’s Quatuor libri de orbibus (Bologna, 1498), Girolamo Fracastoro’s Homocentrica sive de stellis (Venice, 1538), and Girolamo Cardano’s Ars magna: sive de regulis algebraicis (Nuremburg, 1545). And let us not forget that even Nicolaus Copernicus was training to be a physician as he began to formulate his reformed cosmology. As Charles Webster has pointed out, ‘Leading astronomers and cosmologers of the renaissance were educated as physicians; the two avocations were compatible and partly interchangeable’ (Webster, 1982, p. 4). Furthermore, after the bout of quartan fever which led him to decide upon a career, Fernel could not have formally chosen a career in mathematics if he had wanted to, for the simple reason that there was no such thing as a career in mathematics. As Kirsti Anderson and Henk Bos have recently pointed out, Page 10 of 50 ‘mathematicians did not come from a well-defined group that earned their living from mathematics’ (Anderson and Bos, 2006, p. 697). Moreover, as Michael Mahoney has insisted, ‘one is hard pressed to find even a single, unified discipline of mathematics’ (Mahoney, 1994, p. 2). Mahoney himself discerns ‘six broad categories’ of mathematician: classical geometers, cossist algebraists, applied mathematicians, those artists or artisans concerned with geometrical perspective and other aspects of projective geometry, mathematical magicians, and a group he calls the analysts who emerged a bit later in the early modern period, and who combined geometry and algebraic techniques in problem solving, and shared with the applied mathematicians a concern for pragmatism (Mahoney, 1994, pp. 2-14). Although there were some opportunities for such practitioners as private tutors, or as professors of mathematics in the universities, neither option was very lucrative. Professors of mathematics were even lower down the academic hierarchies than professors of natural philosophy, who were generally paid much less than professors in the higher faculties. The low status of mathematics in the universities clearly reflected a generally low opinion of mathematics among men of letters; although it was possible to take a degree in the liberal arts, it was not possible to take a degree in mathematics. Furthermore, the teaching of mathematics at university was generally of such a low level that it was not even intellectually rewarding. Consequently, those who did teach mathematics in the university system, seldom made it a lifetime’s career; it was much more usually undertaken for a few years only by young men biding their time before making their next career move (either into natural philosophy, or medicine, or perhaps something completely different). 9 This remained true in spite of some notable attempts to reform the university curricula in the sixteenth century. Jesuit colleges elevated mathematics to a much more important Page 11 of 50 position in their curricula, but generally mathematics remained a minor, propaedeutic study in the arts faculties (Mahoney, 1994, p. 12). 10 Those who did spend their lives working as mathematicians usually did so outside the university system, and either had private means, or were lucky enough to attract the commitment of a wealthy patron. In England, for example, Thomas Harriot and Thomas Digges were able to make life-long careers as mathematicians thanks to steady patronage. John Dee, by contrast, sought the patronage of his Queen, but never succeeded in winning reliable support and had to leave England for patronage abroad. Galileo, managed to escape a poorly paid position as a professor of mathematics at Pisa and subsequently Padua, when he attracted the patronage of Cosimo II de Medici, while René Descartes expressed his gratitude that he never had to earn a living, being sufficiently financially secure that he could always pursue his own ambitions. 11 In view of all this, then, it might be supposed that Fernel was just another of those medical men who continued to indulge a passion for mathematics, at least in his youth, but that his interest in mathematics was as a mere sideline, and was unexceptionable among university-trained medical men. If we look more closely, however, at Plancy’s life of Fernel and at Fernel’s three mathematical publications, a rather different picture emerges. Compared to most of his fellow physicians, Fernel’s interest in, and commitment to, mathematics was altogether exceptional. So much so that it seems impossible to deny that for a while at least, he seriously entertained ambitions to make a living as a mathematician. If this is true, however, we need to ask ourselves why Fernel might have opted for this unpromising career choice. After all, as Mahoney has pointed out, in mathematics ‘There were no positions to be gained or held. There was no ladder of Page 12 of 50 advancement leading into a hierarchical elite’ (Mahoney, 1994, p. 21). What inspired Fernel to think that he might, against the odds, make a living as a mathematical practitioner? It so happened that mathematics had enjoyed something of a revival in Paris during the opening decades of the sixteenth century. In 1495, seeking to reform the Arts curriculum at the Collège du Cardinal Lemoine, of the University of Paris, the leading French humanist Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples (c. 1455-1536), placed renewed emphasis upon the importance of the mathematical quadrivium. The study of mathematics was subsequently encouraged by his colleagues, Jossé Clichtove (1472- 1543), and Charles de Bovelles (1479-1553). Furthermore, these three scholars published between them a considerable number of mathematical works. These included new editions of the arithmetics of Boethius and Jordanus de Nemore, and of the Sphaera of Sacrobosco, as well as treatises on geometry, astronomy, music, squaring the circle, doubling the cube, and so forth (Victor, 1978, pp. 36-44). Furthermore, these three attracted into their circle a student at the Collège de Navarre who subsequently went on to become the leading French mathematician of his generation, Oronce Fine (1494-1555) (Marr, 2009). If his three older mentors were more interested in the mystical side of mathematics (they were interested in the theological use of number symbolism), Fine was much more concerned with the pragmatic aspects of mathematics. 12 Although he too edited earlier works, including Euclid’s Elements (1536) and Peurbach’s Theoricae novae planetarum (1525), he was also an inventor of mathematical instruments, a leading cosmographer, and an influential mathematical teacher (including Petrus Ramus among his students). Undoubtedly, as one recent commentator has suggested, Fine was ‘one of the progenitors of a French renaissance of mathematics’ (Marr, 2009, p. 5). Fine became Page 13 of 50 especially active in publishing mathematical works following his release from a short prison sentence (possibly for charges connected with his practice of judicial astrology) in 1525, and in 1531 he was appointed to the newly established chair of mathematics in the Collège Royal, recently founded by François I (Pantin, 2009). Indeed, the king agreed to create a Royal chair of mathematics, alongside the more obviously humanist chairs of Greek and Hebrew, at the urging of Fine himself, who in an Epistre exhortative (1530) extolled the practical usefulness of mathematics and claimed that a chair of mathematics would lead to France ‘surpassing in sciences’ (Marr, 2009, pp. 7-8; Pantin, 2009, p. 17). In view of this background, it is easier to understand why a brilliant young man, whose friends felt he could make a successful career in any of the three traditional professions, divinity, law, or medicine, might have harboured ambitions instead of forging a career in mathematics. Indeed, Plancy even records that, after his episode of quartan fever, when Fernel ‘began to talk over with his friends the career he should take up’, some of his friends proposed mathematics (‘alii mathematicas disciplinas… proponebant’) (Sherrington, 1946, p. 151; Fernel, 1607, sig. *4v). If we can assume that this is an accurate report, and a career in mathematics really was suggested by some of Fernel’s friends, it surely counts as testimony to the respect for mathematics in contemporary Paris, following the reformist educational schemes of Lefèvre d’Étaples and his circle, and the urgent activities of Fernel’s almost exact contemporary, Oronce Fine. Be that as it may, Plancy, having no interest in, and presumably therefore no knowledge of, this burgeoning of early sixteenth-century French mathematics, simply tells us that Fernel became determined to master mathematics: Page 14 of 50 he was unskilled in mathematics, so that he would stumble over examples commonly given by authorities in their exposition (of the subject); he felt it a scandal to be ignorant in a field of learning, which he admired no less than any other. So it was that he set out to cultivate his mind systematically, apportioning distinct and separate periods to his several studies. He gave the morning to arithmetic and mathematics; after the midday meal he turned to natural philosophy, and after supper to the Latin classics, paying special attention to their style (Sherrington, 1946, p. 151; Fernel, 1607, sig.sig. *4v). The liberal arts consisted of seven subjects, grouped as a foursome and a triad. Fernel’s day, it seems, was divided into studying the mathematical subjects of the quadrivium (arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and music—essentially the mathematics of proportions) in the morning, and the trivium of linguistic studies (grammar, logic and rhetoric) in the evening. The afternoon was devoted to the natural philosophy of Aristotle which had long since become the mainstay of the university Arts curriculum, additional to the seven liberal arts. According to Plancy, at this time Fernel ‘thought every hour lost which was not spent in reading and studying’, but his father, having seen Fernel through his university education to the MA, felt that he could no longer justify (to the rest of the family) paying for Fernel’s private studies (Sherrington, 1946, p. 151; Fernel, 1607, sig. *4r, and p. 152; Fernel, 1607, sig*4v). It was at this time (coinciding with the quartan fever that allegedly prompted him to consider his future) that Fernel decided to train as a physician. But, now having to pay his own way, he took a post as a lecturer in natural philosophy at the College of Ste Barbe in Paris. Moreover, Fernel did not abandon his mathematical studies, in order to make way for his medical studies. Indeed, if anything Fernel became much more focussed upon mathematics Page 15 of 50 than on anything else. This is evident from the biography which describes an extraordinary commitment to mathematics in Fernel’s daily life at this time. Fernel had recently married and, using money from his wife’s dowry, he began to build up a collection of ‘the writings of all the old mathematicians’. But he did not stop there. He also built up a collection of astrolabes and other bronze mathematical instruments, many of which he had devised himself, and all of which were, as Plancy wrote, ‘costly’. What would undoubtedly have added to the cost was the fact that Fernel employed craftsmen and engravers to make these instruments for him, and they lived in the Fernel household. To off-set these expenses he gave lessons in mathematics to a number of ‘distinguished pupils’, and tried to earn money as a writer of mathematical treatises, and presumably by selling at least one of the mathematical instruments he invented, the so-called ‘monalosphaerium’. Indeed, his first book was an instruction manual for this instrument (Sherrington, 1946, pp. 153- 54; Fernel, 1607, sig. *5v-*6r; Fernel, 1527). He also used the opportunity in his publications to ingratiate himself with potential patrons. He started, in his first publication, with Jacobus Govea, whom Fernel describes as ‘highly numerate and a renowned doctor of theology’, addressed the next to Johannes III, King of Portugal, and dedicated his final mathematical treatise before he committed himself to a medical career, to a Frenchman who acted as a patron to learned men, Martin Dolet. 13 It seems clear that Fernel thought his best chance of a paying career in mathematics was through the newly burgeoning field known as cosmography. Accordingly, he dedicated the first two of his mathematical books to likely representatives of the greatest sea-faring nation at the time, Portugal. Jean Fernel, cosmographer Page 16 of 50 The period from 1490 to 1510, the period of the first major voyages of discovery, has recently been seen as marking a ‘cosmographic revolution’ (Vogel, 2006, p. 476). When Ptolemy’s Geography was first translated into Latin in 1406, the translators, Manuel Chrysolaras and Jacopo d’Angelo, chose to translate the title as Cosmography. Ptolemy’s work, as might be expected from the author of the Almagest, was a mathematical treatment of various aspects of the Earth, including techniques for making map projections, the imposition of lines of latitude and longitude, and so forth. In some cases Ptolemy’s account required an understanding of the vault of the sky and its projection onto the surface of the Earth, and as such the book dealt with the whole world, or universe, not just the earth, and so ‘cosmography’, the translators argued, was a more fitting title than ‘geography’ (Mosley, 2009, p. 425). Ptolemy’s Cosmography was first printed in 1475, and subsequently appeared in at least six editions before 1490. One of the important aspects of Ptolemy’s work was that it assumed that there was one single globe of earth and water—a terraqueous globe. This, together with the experiences reported by those who undertook the various voyages of discovery, led to the final dismissal of an influential alternative view. The alternative, promoted by scholastic natural philosophers and supposedly based on abstract philosophical considerations derived from Aristotle, held that the sphere of the Earth was floating in a larger sphere of water, with only part of its top hemisphere above the surface of the water. Although the Ptolemaic view was held by a number of thinkers before this period, the final dismissal of the scholastic view can indeed be held to be a cosmographic revolution (Randles, 1993; Vogel, 2006). Although cosmography subsequently developed in a number of different ways (Mosley, 2009), it certainly led to a new field of applied mathematics, and seemed to offer new opportunities to men Page 17 of 50 like Oronce Fine and Jean Fernel. It is hardly surprising, therefore, that Fernel should try to master this new cosmography. Certainly, Fernel’s first two mathematical books mark their author out as someone with great ambitions as a cosmographer. Fernel’s first publication, Monalosphaerium, partibus constans quatuor, as the title made clear, was specifically concerned with describing his newly invented ‘monalosphaerium’ and instructing the reader in its various uses. Fernel’s instrument was essentially an astrolabe which managed to project all the information provided in different inscribed sections of an astrolabe on to one circle. He admitted its similarity to an astrolabe but believed it was an improvement upon the traditional instrument because it was equally comprehensive, but more convenient in use (Fernel, 1527, sig. Avir). The altitudes of the Sun, Moon and stars could be read from the monalosphaerium, and the lunar cycle derived from it. Thanks to inscribed coordinates of latitude and longitude of major cities, the latitude and longitude of any place could be found, and distances from one place to another. It was also useful, at least on a starry night, for giving the time in ‘equal hours’, and could be used to proceed from equal hours to unequal, and vice versa (Fernel, 1527, ff. 5r, 18r). And, of course, it could be used as a perpetual calendar, particularly for calculating Easter and other moveable feasts (Fernel, 1527, f. 7v). Fernel also showed how it could be used for determining the critical days in various fevers, and for drawing up horoscopes. For good measure, Fernel provides a fourth and final part to the book which bears little relation to the first three parts, but which shows the reader how to calculate various things, such as the height of a tower, the distance between two places, and the depth of a cistern. The work closes with some discussion of the measurement of areas, and how to relate the area of a triangle to that of a square, or even to the volume of a Page 18 of 50 cube. This section seems to provide Fernel with the opportunity of showing what he himself can do as a mathematician, after previously confining himself to describing the monalosphaerium, since he declares himself to be now off the leash (Fernel, 1527, f. 25r). In the dedication, Fernel says that he wrote the work in response to Jacques Govea’s request for a work that would enable the young to pluck attractive blooms, and other resources from the mathematical disciplines, and thus adorn the rest of the arts, as if with jewels: ‘For mathematics is of a nature to bring lustre to tired topics, and to keep a mind in one’s body that is imbued with incredible life-long pleasure’ (Fernel, 1527, sig. Avir). Although Govea, who later became Rector of the College of Ste Barbe, was only at the beginning of his career there when Fernel dedicated the book to him, he already had the ear of the King of Portugal and that would be enough for Fernel to want to cultivate his friendship. Fernel tells us in the dedicatory epistle that after charging him with this duty to the young, Govea left Paris to visit the King of Portugal. Perhaps Fernel hoped that important French readers might be spurred into making sure that Fernel should continue to work for French maritime interests, rather than be tempted away by the attentions of the Portuguese (Sherrington, 1946, p. 172). Be that as it may, Fernel aimed at the top of the Portuguese tree with his next, and surely most important, work, Cosmotheoria. He dedicated this to the King of Portugal himself, João III (Fernel, 1528a)). Not knowing the King personally, he resorted to praising the achievements of renowned Portuguese explorers, from Henry the Navigator (1394–1460), and Bartolomeu Dias (c. 1450–1500), the first European to round the Cape of Good Hope (1488), while searching for the legendary Christian kingdom of Prester John, to Paulo (d. 1499) and Vasco da Gama (c. 1469–1524), who extended these explorations to find a route to India (Fernel, 1528a, sig. Avir-v). Page 19 of 50 Clearly, Fernel was attempting to flatter the King by association. Fernel did not rely solely on flattery, however. He clearly hoped that the practical usefulness of the information provided in Cosmotheoria, would be immediately recognisable to the king and his advisers, and would therefore attract patronage. 14 The main theme of the Cosmotheoria is the size of the Earth and of the heavenly spheres. But right at the outset he rejects the scholastic view of the floating Earth partially protruding from a separate sphere of water, and affirms the Ptolemaic view that the earth and seas form a single globe. ‘One must thus agree’, he wrote, ‘that the earth looks like a wooden globe in which there are many hollows in which water can gather’ (Fernel, 1528a, sig. Bv; Randles, 1993, pp. 67-9). It is perhaps this aspect of Fernel’s second book which has led a leading historian of cosmography to describe it as ‘one of the most original contributions to cosmography in the French Renaissance’ (Randles, 1993, p. 67). As a measure of the importance of this issue, it can be noted that Copernicus also discussed the same matters in Book 1, Chapter 3, of his De revolutionibus (1543), ‘How Earth forms a single sphere with water’. Indeed, it has been suggested that the confirmation of the Ptolemaic single globe of earth and sea by the Renaissance voyages of discovery were what made it possible for Copernicus to develop his theory of a planetary (wandering) Earth. 15 Fernel’s Cosmotheoria is also famous for the attempt to establish the length of a degree of a great circle of the Earth. Taking with him a reliable clock, Fernel travelled due north (or nearly due north) of Paris until he found the place where the elevation of the Sun at noon corresponded to one degree north (presumably this took a few days to establish). He then returned to Paris by coach and counted the number of times one of the coach wheels made a full revolution. Knowing the circumference of the wheel, he was able to calculate the full distance. Given the fact that Fernel Page 20 of 50 counted 17,024 revolutions of the wheel, there was some room for error. It is a testimony to the care with which he undertook this measurement, however, that the surprising accuracy of his result continued to impress subsequent investigators and commentators (Fernel, 2005, p. 10). Fernel declares the length of a degree of a great circle of the Earth to be 700 stadia, or 87½ Italian milliaria. But he then tries to help the reader to be able to understand these lengths in their own local terms. He starts with a digitus, which he says is the length of four grains of barley. Four digiti are a palmus; four palmi make a pes; and a cubit is one and a half pedes, or six palms. He then arrives at a measure for a passus geometricus of five pedes. The Italian stadium is 125 passus, and an Italian milliarium is eight stadia, or one thousand passus. A German milliarium, however, has 4000 passus, and the Swedish variety has 5000 (Fernel, 1528a, f. 2r). Having dealt in the first chapter with the size of the Earth, Fernel went on to discuss the dimensions of the sphere of air, and the sphere of fire, before dealing with each of the heavenly spheres in turn, including the sphere of the fixed stars, and the primum mobile. Although primarily concerned with the physical dimensions of the spheres, Fernel also considers the sizes of the circles (deferents and epicycles) assumed by astronomers in accounting for the precise motions of the heavenly bodies. There is nothing particularly new in the general approach, since it is based on the standard assumption that the heavenly spheres are nested contiguous with one another, and is in keeping with Peurbach’s Theoricae novae planetarum (1454, published posthumously, by Regiomantanus, in 1472). Clearly, however, Fernel was convinced that he was offering a new and more accurate assessment of the heavenly dimensions. 16 It seems reasonable to suppose that Fernel believed that an accurate idea of the relevant dimensions would facilitate much needed improvements in Page 21 of 50 astronomy. It should not be forgotten that Fernel was writing not long after Copernicus had written his Commentariolus (ca. 1512), the first unpublished account of his heliocentric astronomy (and known only to a few, which did not include Fernel) (Copernicus, 1985, pp. 81-90). This was a time, therefore, when astronomers were casting around for a way to improve the principles of their art. Evidently, Fernel did not have Copernicus’s creative flair (not in astronomy, anyway—it would be a different matter when he finally turned to medicine), but by emphasising the improved accuracy of his measurements and calculations he was in good company. Even half a century later, Tycho Brahe (1546–1601) was pinning his hopes for the future of astronomy on more accurate assessments of planetary movements, rather than on the more drastic Copernican reforms (Thoren, 1990). Fernel’s third, and final, mathematical treatise is rather different from the other two. Instead of focussing upon astronomical or cosmographical matters, it takes a much broader approach, seeking to show the value of mathematics in a number of different areas. Also, it is not dedicated to a potential Portuguese patron, but is dedicated to the now highly obscure Martin Dolet. It is possible that Fernel saw Dolet as a likely patron himself, or perhaps Dolet acted as a patronage broker. Fernel describes him in the dedication as a ‘most devoted patron and protector of learned men’ (Fernel, 1528b, sig. Aiiiir). Perhaps Fernel sensed that he was not going to succeed in attracting Portuguese patronage, and felt that broader claims about the usefulness of mathematics, rather than a focus on cosmography, were required if he Page 22 of 50 Fernel’s depiction of the sphere of Mercury, and table showing the various dimensions of different aspects of the sphere, including the epicycle and the body of the planet. From Fernel, Cosmotheoria, f.12v and f. 13r. with acknowledgement to Edinburgh University Library, Special Collections Department, Df.1.18/3. Page 23 of 50 was to have any sway with French patrons. De proportionibus, accordingly, is concerned with the proposition that ‘everything in nature (how much more so, in people and in medications) is created in a fixed proportion of components’. It was for this reason, Fernel says, that the ‘ancient philosophers’ believed ‘harmony is the sole principle of all things’ (Fernel, 1528b, sig. Aiiiir). Fernel describes the mathematics of proportions as ‘a weapon considerably concealed’, because of the difficulty of using it, but which can be used in many different spheres. Ethical philosophy, he claims, deals with things which are so inextricably linked that only the theory of proportions can sort them out. Here he is drawing upon the suggestion of mathematically inclined humanists that music, as the discipline of proportions and balance, offers a science of the good life. The theory of proportions was seen, therefore, as an important scientia activa, essential for understanding both moral and political science. 17 Similarly, even the study of the pulse in medicine relies upon a theory of proportions, we are told, since Galen attributed the pulses to musical harmonies in the body. 18 There is, in short, Fernel says, a diverse harvest to be reaped, from geometry and astronomy to natural philosophy, and beyond. In view of all this, it could hardly be said that Fernel had merely a dilettante’s interest in mathematics, or that his interest in mathematics went no further than that of other physicians. On the contrary, it seems impossible to deny that he was aiming to establish himself as a member of what he perhaps saw, in the period immediately following the revival of mathematics by Lefèvre d’Étaples and his circle and reinforced subsequently by Oronce Fine, as a growing community of vocational mathematical practitioners. Furthermore, in view of the nature of his publications and his attempts to win patronage for the kind of work detailed in them, it seems likely Page 24 of 50 that he harboured genuine ambitions to establish himself as a leading cosmographer. The fact that he was producing his mathematical works while working towards his MD should not be seen as diminishing his separate commitment to mathematics. Jean Fernel, mathematician manqué, and physican Why, then, did Fernel abandon mathematics and turn his attention entirely to medicine? After publishing his De proportionibus in 1528, Fernel never again wrote a mathematical work. All his subsequent publications were medical and, unlike his mathematical writings, they immediately established Fernel’s reputation as a leader in the medical arts and sciences. Furthermore, by the time his first medical publication appeared, the De naturali parte medicinae, in 1542, Fernel had long since sold off his collection of mathematical books and his collection of instruments. He had dismissed the instrument makers and engravers he had employed and housed, and he had notified his private mathematical pupils that ‘they must look elsewhere for a master’ (Sherrington, 1946, p.154; Fernel, 1607, sig. *6v). What caused this dramatic change of direction? The answer is very clear in Plancy’s account of Fernel’s life. It was apparent to Fernel’s family, and in particular to his wife and his father-in-law, who lived in Paris and ‘often saw his son-in-law’, that Fernel was not making a suitable living out of his pursuit of mathematics. On the contrary, Fernel was ‘dipping into his wife’s marriage portion’ to fund his expensive indulgence in mathematics. Plancy hints at a domestic scene in which Fernel’s wife became increasingly distressed by the financial hardship into which Fernel seemed to be leading her and their two daughters. Whenever Fernel’s father-in-law came to visit, Page 25 of 50 he would take occasion to complain to his son-in-law that medicine, which had been his whole devotion formerly, now concerned him too little. He so clung to mathematics that neither love of his wife, nor the endearments of his children, nor the care of his house, could take him off them (Sherrington, 1946, pp. 153-4; Fernel, 1607, sig. *5v-*6r). Eventually matters came to a head and Plancy tells us that the father-in-law, ‘moved by his daughter’s tears, lost his temper and scolded his son-in-law.’ It was as a result of these ‘entreaties and reproaches’ that ‘Fernel gave way at last’ and ‘renounced his mathematics and began to devote himself to medicine with a greater zeal than ever before’ (Sherrington, 1946, p. 154; Fernel, 1607, sig. *6v). 19 It is perhaps worth remarking that the family’s concern about the comparative earning power of mathematics and medicine was surely vindicated. Long before the end of his life, Fernel’s earnings as a physician turned him into a wealthy man. As Plancy tells us, and this time he has first-hand knowledge: Throughout the time I lived with him (and I lived with him for ten years) his annual income often exceeded twelve thousand French pounds and rarely fell below ten (Sherrington, 1946, p. 170; Fernel, 1607, sig. ***2v). Just three years before this, Oronce Fine had died after enduring years of financial hardship. Dependent on courtly patronage, Fine all too often found himself, in spite of his undeniable achievements, ‘waiting and begging for payment for his efforts and being mocked and put off with courtly pittances’ (Marr, 2009, p. 9, quoting Fine’s son, writing in 1560). It is evident that Fernel’s own efforts to attract patronage repeatedly failed, and his pursuit of mathematics, in spite of his private tutoring, cost him more than it brought in. Sir Charles Sherrington, noting the sumptuousness of Fernel’s Page 26 of 50 mathematical treatises, assumed that he must have ‘had a generous patron at his back’. Each of the books was evidently published with a separate book of plates (no copies of which are known to survive), so they were clearly expensive to produce. 20 Sherrington’s assumption may well be correct but it only makes it more likely, rather than less, that Fernel was hoping to attract further patronage following upon his publications. Alternatively, Sherrington’s surmise may be wrong. Given that Fernel does not thank an already generous benefactor in his dedicatory epistles, but merely solicits for future patronage, it seems likely that Fernel actually paid for the printing of these books himself. Fernel is known to have employed his own engravers, and the excellent engraved illustrations in these three books (to say nothing of the lost extra booklets of plates), show every sign of having been closely supervised by the author. Perhaps this is why, as Plancy tells us, Fernel had to dip ‘into his wife’s marriage- portion’ (Sherrington, 1946, p. 153; Fernel, 1607, sig. *5v). If so, then he would certainly be hoping that the expenditure on the books would eventually pay dividends by attracting sufficient interest that he might win patronage from them. When all this failed, it must have seemed obvious to everyone around him, and eventually even to Fernel himself, that mathematics was not a good choice of career, particularly if the option of a medical career was open to him. Fernel and the usefulness (or not) of mathematics It is possible, however, to discern another important factor in Fernel’s decision to abandon mathematics. It is usual in the historiography of mathematics, particularly in accounts of its gradual recognition during the Scientific Revolution as a crucially important way of understanding the world, to emphasise its practical utility. In contrast to the contemplative natural philosophy of the pre-modern world, Page 27 of 50 mathematics was always seen to provide practical information which could be put to use for the benefit of all. Or so the story goes. Plancy’s Life, however, presents a rather different attitude to mathematics. It seems that the pragmatic usefulness of mathematics was by no means obvious to everyone. Plancy presents this alternative view of mathematics in a re-imagined quotation from Fernel’s father-in-law: ‘Now, knowledge of mathematics is in itself as culture well enough, and exercises the wits, if one uses moderation in the time given to it. But it becomes a scandal when an honest man with duties to the public and his family reposes, so to say, to sleep on the quick-sands of the sirens, letting the years go by. Mathematics made no contribution to the public weal. Apart from a modicum of arithmetic and geometry it touched society little or not at all. On the other hand when we turn our gaze and thought to medicine we find it a science occupied either with sublime enquiry into Nature or with deeds of beneficence and utility. It is of right the worthiest of all the arts. Mathematics offers no comparison with it’ (Sherrington, 1946, p. 154; Fernel, 1607, sig. *6r). It is impossible to tell whether this quotation was reconstructed by Fernel in reminiscence, and told to Plancy while he was gathering information for the Life, or whether Plancy himself imagined it as typical of the kind of things any ‘man of experience’, as Plancy described Fernel’s father-in-law, would have said about mathematics. It seems certain, however, that Plancy himself did concur with these views. Immediately after attributing these words to the father-in-law, Plancy says, ‘he urged on Fernel these and other good reasons.’ Furthermore, at this point in his narrative he depicts Fernel’s father-in-law not only as a man of experience but also as Page 28 of 50 ‘prudent and accomplished’ (Sherrington, 1946, pp. 153-54; Fernel, 1607, sig. *6r-v). This dismissal of the value of mathematics does not emanate from a critic of no standing, therefore, but from a man of supposed worldly wisdom. There are also echoes of these criticisms of mathematics in Plancy’s own comments in the Life. Even before recounting Fernel’s abandonment of mathematics, Plancy had felt it necessary to apologise to the reader for Fernel’s infatuation with the subject: ‘Contemplation of the stars and heavenly bodies excites such wonder and charm in the human mind that, once fascinated by it, we are caught in the toils of an enduring and delighted slavery, which holds us in bondage and serfdom’ (Sherrington, 1946, p. 153; Fernel, 1607, sig. *5v-*6r). This foreshadows the comment about sleeping on the quick-sands of the sirens. Similarly, the father-in- law’s unfavourable comparison of mathematics with medicine is reflected later in the Life when Plancy says that Fernel ‘bitterly regretted that he had formerly given himself up’ to astrology, if not mathematics more generally. In what is an unusually long discussion of any one topic in the biography, Plancy first tells us that Fernel came to believe that judicial astrology was ‘erroneous and unfounded’, before going on to say that he himself was ‘entirely at one with the teaching of this great man’ on this topic. ‘My view’, he wrote, ‘is that these impostors with their judicial astrology, pressing with extravagant zeal this absurd and ridiculous view of the influence of the stars, outrage both heaven and medicine’ (Sherrington, 1946, p. 159; Fernel, 1607, sig. **2r). It is important to note here, however, that Plancy does not object to the idea that the stars can affect things on Earth. His objection is to the claim that knowledge of such things can be discovered through mathematics. Consider, for example, this comment on the cause of pestilence: Page 29 of 50 I recognise willingly that often the Divine Power, whose decrees and plans are inscrutable, permits, in punishment of man’s misdeeds, and in order to turn man back from his errors, pestilence and contagion, for him to bear. I will not deny even that the stars by their malignity corrupt the air to such a point that it becomes a source of mischief to man and beast, and sows the seeds of death. But I hold that none of these things can be foreseen by help of judicial astrology, and they are known only by their actual event. 21 The objection is not just to the divinatory aspects of astrology, but to the inadequacy of its causal claims: Against the laws of Nature, they view matter as taking exceptional and strange forms, and sublunar bodies undergoing certain changes. They attribute these happenings to the ‘aspects’ and the ‘conjunctions’ of the stars (Sherrington, 1946, p. 159; Fernel, 1607, sig. **2r). Conjunctions occur when two heavenly bodies appear close together, or coincident, against the background of fixed stars, and the aspects are particular angular separations of heavenly bodies, such as 60 or 90 degrees, which are supposed to be particularly significant. For Plancy, however, it is clearly an absurdity to imagine that the geometrical configuration of the heavenly bodies can have any kind of physical effect. 22 Another factor which prevented educated men from recognising any usefulness in mathematics derived from the strict separation of mathematics from natural philosophy. Deriving ultimately from Aristotle’s views, the prevailing view was that natural philosophy was concerned to provide explanations of natural phenomena in terms of physical causes, and that mathematics could say nothing about causes, but could only give a particular kind of technical description of what was Page 30 of 50 going on in a physical system. So, a specific set of deferent and epicycle, allocated a specific combination of movements, could show us how the observed movement of a particular planet could be accomplished, but this assumed set-up could say nothing about how or why (or even whether!) the planet moved in this way, or what kept it in these motions. Generally speaking, mathematics was regarded as incompetent with regard to natural philosophy (Dear, 1995; Mancosu, 1996). The most famous (or, as it is seen in the standard historiography of science, infamous) illustration of the gulf between mathematics and natural philosophy, of course, is the preface added to Copernicus’s De revolutionibus orbium coelestium by Andreas Osiander, the Lutheran minister who had been delegated to supervise it through the press. As Robert S. Westman has pointed out, Osiander’s wording reveals that he was not so much concerned that the nature of the physical world might be thrown into confusion by Copernicus’s heliocentric astronomy; rather he was concerned that ‘the liberal arts, established long ago on a correct basis, should not be thrown into confusion’ (Westman, 1980, pp. 108-9, quoting Osiander). Copernicus was in danger of throwing the liberal arts into confusion because his book might seem to imply that geometrical astronomy could reveal to us the true nature of the World system, whereas, as all educated men knew, only natural philosophy could establish physical truths. 23 If the recent historiography devoted to uncovering the history of cosmography has correctly recaptured events, it seems that Fernel should be counted as one of those who was convinced of the power of mathematics for deciding upon controversial philosophical matters (in particular the precise arrangement of the sub-lunar spheres (especially the spheres of earth and water), and therefore sought to promote the usefulness of cosmography, even before Copernicus’s more powerful version of Page 31 of 50 mathematical realism pointed the way to what has been seen as the ‘mathematization of the world picture.’ The definitive history of cosmography has yet to be written but its practitioners seem to have developed, even before Copernicus, a mathematical realist view of the world (as opposed to the more traditional instrumentalist view implicit, for example, in Osiander’s preface). 24 Moreover, their confirmation of the earth as a single terraqueous globe was an important factor enabling Copernicus to proceed with his own realist astronomy. 25 It is arguable, therefore, that the renewed philosophical debate on the relevance of mathematics to natural philosophy, which emerged at this time, may have had its beginnings in the ‘cosmographic revolution’, rather than the Copernican revolution. If Osiander was content merely to declaim that the liberal arts had been established ‘on a correct basis’, there were evidently others, who were willing to discuss the matter, pro and con. 26 If these debates ultimately led to the recognition that mathematics, far from being excluded from natural philosophy, could, and indeed must, contribute to our understanding of the physical world, it was a long, slow, process. 27 At the time that Fernel was writing his mathematical works, the majority of the inhabitants of the Republic of Letters were unaware of the claims being made on behalf of mathematics and continued to regard it as irrelevant to natural philosophy, and therefore of little or no use to their concerns. We should not be surprised, therefore, much less disappointed, that Fernel the mathematician , who showed in the late 1520s that he did believe in the relevance of mathematics to our understanding of the physical world (not only by his confirmation of the Ptolemaic terraqueous globe, but also by his clearly realist claims about the physical dimensions of the planetary spheres— deferents, epicycles, and all), soon abandoned the idea; or did so to all intents and purposes by abandoning the study and promotion of mathematics itself. Page 32 of 50 Another contemporary claim in favour of the usefulness of mathematics, which is at least implicit and sometimes explicit in Fernel’s three earliest publications, is its use in training the growing mind. It is clear from the lavish nature of his three mathematical books, no less than from their content, that Fernel should be included among the so-called ‘mathematical humanists’, who wished to elevate mathematics in the disciplinary hierarchy because of its perceived usefulness in pedagogy. 28 We can see this, perhaps, in Fernel’s concern that his mathematical book should be accessible to those without much mathematical training. In De proportionibus, for example, he tells us that he ‘deviated slightly from ancient mathematical practice’ so that he could ‘put the proofs of what he had to say in few words, to prevent inducing nausea and disgust in people with little mathematical training, who have particularly hated proportions’ (Fernel, 1528b, sig. Aiiiir). Fernel was among the first generation of mathematicians to begin to exploit the almost complete corpus of Ancient Greek mathematics which had been recovered by humanist manuscript collectors in the fifteenth century. For humanist mathematicians like Leon Battista Alberti (1404- 1472), and Luca Pacioli (1445-1517), mathematics was in itself as representative of ancient glories as ancient philosophy, and they showed no hint of needing to demonstrate the importance of mathematics to philosophy. In so far as there was any concern to link the two, it was only to defend a vision of human learning as all interdependent. Celio Calcagnini (1479-1541), for example, suggested that Knowledge is all one body, which the Greeks call paideia and we humanitas… Thus the disciplines or parts of humanitas are connected among themselves… No one may therefore pursue physics without logic, nor logic without mathematics, nor anything without the support of rhetoric (Calcagnini, 1544, p. 23). 29 Page 33 of 50 It was, however, easy to recognise the beneficial characteristics of mathematics in its own right. In particular, it was praised for the certainty of its proofs. ‘The manifold proofs of arithmetic and geometry’, wrote Pier Paolo Vergerio (1370-1445), ‘make these sciences a delightful study, and one possessed of a special certainty…’ (Vergerio, 1918 [1472], p. 127, quoted from Rose, 1975, p. 13). The humanists recognised the pedagogical implications: Geometry ought to be studied at an early age for it sharpens the intellect and makes the mind quick at perceiving… It is fitting for the prince to be instructed in both geometry and arithmetic… Besides there is much eruditio in it and it produces much caution, since very often mathematics denies what is conceded by dialectic… Astronomy reveals the secrets of the heavens and its study must not be withheld from the prince. 30 If Fernel shared these same humanist attitudes to mathematics, however, it is certain that he also knew the cautions against mathematics which could also be found in humanist writers. In particular, the humanists seemed to be well aware that, although a knowledge of mathematics could be highly useful, it was possible to go too far, and become lost in a world of utter abstraction. Indeed, this belief was expressed by two of the ancient sources for the humanists’ admiration of mathematics, Quintilian and Cicero. Quintilian’s Institutio oratoria (I, 10) and Cicero’s De officiis (I, 6) both cautioned that too much immersion in mathematics could be a distraction from the vita activa required of the good citizen. For Aeneas Sylvius Piccolomini, writing in 1450, though these [mathematical] sciences are all delightful and useful to comprehend, still I could not urge too much expenditure of time upon them, Page 34 of 50 because advantageous as they are for the transient student, they can be harmful for a visitor who stays too long (Piccolomini, 1940, p. 123). Similarly, Roger Ascham, in 1563 insisted that, Some wittes, moderate enough by nature, be many tymes marde by over much studie and use of some sciences, namelie, Musicke, Arithmetick, and Geometrie. Thies sciences, as they sharpen mens wittes over much, so they change mens maners over sore, if they be not moderatlie mingled, & wiselie applied to some good use of life. Marke all Mathematicall heades, which be onely and wholly bent to those sciences, how solitarie they be themselves, how unfit to live with others, & how unapte to serve in the world (Ascham, 1904, p. 190). Ascham even goes so far as to say that such unfortunate cases are ‘knowen nowe by common experience’ (Ascham, 1904, p. 190). If this was so, then it is evident that by the late sixteenth century there were significant numbers of mathematicians who had failed to heed the warnings and had become such solitary figures, unfitted for society. It seems, then, that Fernel could hardly have been surprised to hear his father- in-law announcing that ‘mathematics is in itself as culture well enough, and exercises the wits, if one uses moderation in the time given to it. But it becomes a scandal when an honest man, with duties to the public, and his family reposes, so to say, to sleep on the quick-sands of the sirens’. His wife’s father was drawing from the same humanist literature to criticise mathematics that Fernel used to defend it, and he was adding nothing new to these age-old strictures. Similarly, Fernel would not have been surprised had he seen Plancy’s later description of him as ‘fascinated’ by mathematics, and ‘caught in the toils of an enduring and delighted slavery’ which held him ‘in bondage and serfdom’ (Sherrington, 1946, pp. 154, 153; Fernel, 1607, *6r). Page 35 of 50 Indeed, it was perhaps Fernel’s own admiration for the humanists and their values that enabled him to recognise that he was in danger of becoming the kind of solitary thinker they warned against. It should not be supposed, either, that when Fernel’s father-in-law dismissed the utility of mathematics as of little consequence (‘Apart from a modicum of arithmetic and geometry it touched society little or not at all’), he spoke merely from ignorance. For one thing, we should not forget that the words attributed to the father- in-law must have been reported to Plancy by Fernel himself, during the last ten years of his life, and some twenty years or so after the incident. In a sense, what we are reading is not so much a specific utterance by one man but a reconstruction (by Fernel when he reported it to his secretary in recollection, and subsequently by Plancy, when he came to write Fernel’s Vita) of the kind of arguments familiarly used by the learned against mathematics. To support the suggestion that late Renaissance thinkers did not always see the practical usefulness of mathematics, we need look no further than Francis Bacon. Here was a thinker whose historical reputation rests to a large extent on the fact that he saw, when others did not, that knowledge of the natural world should not be regarded as knowledge for its own sake, but should be put to use to improve the lot of mankind. As is well known, however, Bacon never considered that mathematical knowledge had a major role to play in his vision for the betterment of our lives. Again, this cannot be put down to an unfortunate oversight on Bacon’s part; something that he overlooked but would have seized upon (we can suppose) had he seen it. Bacon did discuss mathematics in both the initial Advancement of Learning (1605) and its expanded version, De dignitate et augmentis scientiarum (1623), but the only use for it that he seems to have recognised, as the humanists had before him, Page 36 of 50 was in pedagogy, for sharpening the wits and aiding concentration (Gaukroger, 2001, pp. 20-27). It is worth remembering also that Bacon’s father, Sir Nicholas, was involved in the plans to reconstruct Dover harbour in the 1570s, and was involved in the appointment of some of the leading English mathematicians who worked on the project as surveyors, engineers, and architects. Furthermore, Sir Nicholas himself showed a strong personal fascination with mathematics. 31 Francis could hardly have missed the practical importance to England of what was, after all, the largest civil engineering scheme in Elizabethan Britain, particularly in view of his father’s personal involvement, and yet when he came to develop his own ideas about how knowledge of nature could be put to use for the benefit of mankind, he gave no thought to a role for mathematics. It seems that the separation between mathematics and natural philosophy was still so effective, in the early decades of the seventeenth- century, that it was easy for Bacon to disregard mathematics while he was seeking to reform natural philosophy. Bacon wanted to reform natural philosophy to make it not only more authentic than Aristotelian natural philosophy, but also more useful. It is clear from his writings that the model he had in mind for useful natural knowledge was not mathematics, however, but natural magic (Rossi, 1968; Henry, 2002). Knowledge of supposed magical influences and interactions between things was always seen as something to be exploited for pragmatic benefits, and after the Renaissance recovery of the Corpus Hermeticum and other supposedly magical ancient writings such magical knowledge came to be regarded as part of the true ancient wisdom or philosophy. 32 It would have seemed natural to Bacon to look to the newly revived magical tradition, therefore, as a way of reforming natural philosophy. The same could hardly be said of mathematics. Because mathematics did not, and Page 37 of 50 could not, offer causal explanations of natural phenomena, Bacon could, and did, dismiss it as irrelevant to his purposes. Given the background that we have been surveying, a background which coloured nearly everyone’s perception of mathematics from before Fernel’s time through to Francis Bacon’s and even beyond (many, after all, were still puzzled by the title of Newton’s great book when it appeared in 1687—they wondered how there could be ‘mathematical principles’ of natural philosophy), it is hardly surprising that Fernel’s family, and other members of his household, such as Guillaume Plancy, should regard mathematics as a largely futile and sterile occupation. Irrespective of the innovatory work of men like Regiomontanus, Copernicus, Lefèvre d’Étaples, Fine, and many others who are now recognised by historians as greater or lesser contributors to the ‘mathematization of the world picture’, for most learned men, as for Fernel’s father-in-law, ‘Mathematics made no contribution to the public weal’, and ‘Apart from a modicum of arithmetic and geometry it touched society little or not at all’ (Sherrington, 1946, p. 154; Fernel, 1607, sig. *6r). Conclusion If Fernel was finally aroused from his slumbers on the quick-sands of the sirens by the distress of his wife and the anger of his father-in-law, and began to realise that he must choose a more suitable profession than that of mathematical practitioner, he did not need to look far. Fernel was, as we have seen, undertaking his mathematical work at the same time that he was training to be a physician. He completed the four-year curriculum leading to his MD in about 1530, and so in 1527 and 1528, the years he published his mathematical works, he must have been trying to combine his medical studies with his own commitment to mathematics. It was an easy matter, therefore, for Page 38 of 50 Fernel to simply concentrate on medicine. Indeed, the impression Plancy’s Vita presents is that Fernel resisted a medical calling during the time when he tried to establish a career as a cosmographer. Having abandoned mathematics, however, Fernel soon rose to become the most admired physician in France and one of the most admired throughout Europe. Nobody was ever in any doubt of the usefulness of medicine to society, of course, but it also had the advantage over mathematics that it was always perceived to go hand-in-hand with natural philosophy. Even Aristotle was said to have declared medicine and natural philosophy to be sisters. 33 Certainly, Fernel’s own medical works paid a great deal of attention to natural philosophical considerations. His first major work (although withheld from the press until after he had published subsequent works), De abditis rerum causis (Paris, 1548), was divided into two parts, the first explicitly dealing with natural philosophy and the second with medicine. His earliest published work, De naturali parte medicinae (Paris, 1542), later became known simply as the Physiologia. This later title appropriated a term that usually referred to the whole of natural philosophy, and turned it into a term having reference only to the natural workings of the human body. Again, this suggests Fernel’s own belief in the close interconnectedness of natural philosophy and medicine (Fernel, 2005, pp. 3-4). This traditional alliance between medicine and natural philosophy may not have been much of a consideration for practising mathematicians, but in the eyes of most educated men it is likely to have ensured that medicine was regarded as more intellectually and culturally significant than mathematics. We can see this even in the reported speech which Plancy attributes to Fernel’s father-in-law. ‘On the other hand’, he says to his son-in-law after insisting mathematics touches society hardly at all, ‘when we turn our gaze to medicine we find it a science occupied either with sublime Page 39 of 50 enquiry into Nature or with deeds of beneficence and utility. It is of right the worthiest of all the arts.’ Medicine is not just pragmatically useful but leads to a real understanding of the natural world. It was to be a very long time indeed before mathematics would be seen by educated persons routinely to have the same relevance to our understanding of nature. In the meantime, medicine remained the indispensable companion of natural philosophy, and Fernel’s father-in-law spoke for a number of succeeding generations when he said that ‘Mathematics offers no comparison with it’ (Sherrington, 1946, p. 154; Fernel, 1607, sig. *6r). REFERENCES Andersen, K. and Bos, H. (2006) Pure mathematics, in: K. Park and L. Daston (eds.), The Cambridge history of science, Volume 3: early modern science (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), pp. 696-707. Ascham, R. (1904), English Works [edited by William A. Wright, 1904] (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Barker, P. and Goldstein, B. (1998) Realism and instrumentalism in sixteenth-century astronomy: a reappraisal, Perspectives on science, 6 (3), 232-58. Biagioli, M. (1989) The social status of Italian mathematicians, 1450-1600, History of Science, 27 (1), 41-95. Biagioli, M. (1993) Galileo, courtier: the practice of science in the culture of absolutism (Chicago: University of Chicago Press). Brockliss, L. (1993) Seeing and believing: contrasting attitudes towards observational autonomy among French Galenists in the first half of the seventeenth century, in: W. F. Bynum and Roy Porter (eds.) Medicine and the five senses (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), pp. 69-84. Brockliss, L. and Jones, C. (1997), The medical world of early modern France (Oxford: Clarendon Press). Calcagnini, C. (1544), Opera aliquot (Basel, 1544). Copernicus, N. (1985), Commentariolus, in: Idem, Minor works [translated by Edward Rosen] (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press. Page 40 of 50 Copernicus, N. (1992) On the revolutions [translated by E. Rosen] (Baltimore & London: The Johns Hopkins University Press). Davis, N. Z. (1960) Sixteenth-century French arithmetics on the business life, Journal of the history of ideas, 2 (2), 188-222. Dawbarn, F. and Pumfrey, S. (2004) Science and patronage in England, 1570-1625: a preliminary study, History of Science, 42 (2), pp. 137-88. Dear, P. 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Hay (ed.), Mathematics from manuscript to print (Oxford: Oxford University Press), pp. 209-19. Moran, B. T. (1991) Patronage and institutions: science, technology and medicine at the European court, 1500-1750 (Woodbridge, Suffolk: Boydell Press). Mosley, Adam (2009) The cosmographer’s role in the sixteenth century: a preliminary study, A c v ’ c c , 59, 423-39. Pagel, W. (1958) Paracelsus: an introduction to the philosophical medicine of the era of the Renaissance (Basel: S. Karger). Page 43 of 50 Pantin, I. (2009) Oronce Fine’s role as a Royal Lecturer, in A. Marr (ed.), The worlds of Oronce Fine: mathematics, instruments, and print in Renaissance France (Donington: Shaun Tyas), pp. 13-30. Peruzzi, E. (1995) La nave di Ermete: la cosmologia di Girolamo Fracastoro (Firenze: Leo S. Olschki). Piccolomini, A. S. (1940) De liberorum educatione [edited and translated by J. S. Nelson] (Washington: Catholic University of America Press). Randles, W. G. L. (1993) Classical models of world geography and their transformation following the discovery of America, in: W. Haase and M. Reinhold (eds.), The Classical tradition and the Americas (Berlin: Walter de Gruyter), pp.5-76. Renouard, P. (1894) Bibliographie des éditions de Simon de Colines, 1526-46 (Paris). Rose, P. L. (1975) The Italian renaissance of mathematics: studies on humanists and mathematicians from Petrarch to Galileo (Geneva: Droz). Rossi, P. (1968) Francis Bacon: from magic to science (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul). Rutkin, H. D. (2006) Astrology, in: K. Park and L. Daston (eds), The Cambridge history of science, volume 3: early modern science (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), pp. 541-61. Shank, M. H. (2002) Regiomontanus on Ptolemy, physical orbs, and astronomical fictionalism: Goldsteinian themes in the ‘Defense of Theon against George of Trebizond’, Perspectives on science, 10 (2), 179-207. Schmitt, C. B. (1984) The Aristotelian tradition and renaissance universities (London: Variorum). Sherrington, Sir Charles (1946) The endeavour of Jean Fernel (Cambridge, Cambridge University Press). Siraisi, N. (2007) History, medicine, and the traditions of Renaissance learning (Ann Arbor: University of Michigan Press). Tester, J. (1987) A history of Western astrology (Woodbridge: Boydell Press). Temkin, O. (1977) The double face of Janus and other essays in the history of medicine (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press). Temkin, O. (1991) Hippocrates in a world of pagans and Christians (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press). Thevet, A. (1584) Les vrais pourtraits et vies des hommes illustres (Paris). Page 44 of 50 Thoren, V. E. (1990) Tycho Brahe: the Lord of Uraniborg (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Thorndike, L. (1941) History of magic and experimental science, 8 vols (New York, 1923-58), Vol. V. Tittler, R. (1976) Nicholas Bacon: the making of a Tudor statesman (London: Jonathan Cape). Vergerio, P. P. (1918) De ingenuis moribus et liberalibus studiis [edited by A. Gnesotto], A ’Acc v c c , L A , New Series, 34, pp. 75-156. Victor, J. M. (1978) Charles de Bovelles, 1479-1553: an intellectual biography (Geneva: Droz). Vogel, K. A. (2006) Cosmography, in: K. Park and L. Daston (eds.), The Cambridge history of science, volume 3: early modern science (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press), pp. 469-96. Walker, D. P. (1972) The ancient theology: studies in Christian Platonism from the fifteenth to the eighteenth century (London: Duckworth). Weeks, A. (1997) Paracelsus: speculative theory and the crisis of the early Reformation (Albany: State University of New York Press). Webster, C. (1982) From Paracelsus to Newton: magic and the making of modern science (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press). Westman, R. S. (1980) The astronomer's role in the sixteenth century: a preliminary survey, History of science, 18 (2), 105-47. Yates, F. A. (1964) Giordano Bruno and the Hermetic tradition (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul). Yates, F. A. (1967) The Hermetic tradition in Renaissance science, in: C. S. Singleton (ed.), Art, science, and history in the Renaissance (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1967), reprinted in Yates, F. A. (1984) Ideas and ideals in the North European Renaissance, Collected Essays, Vol III (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul), pp. 227-46 Zetterberg, P. (1980) The mistaking of ‘the mathematics’ for magic in Tudor and Stuart England, Sixteenth Century Journal, 11 (1), 83-97. John Henry University of Edinburgh Science Studies Unit Chisholm House Page 45 of 50 High School Yards Edinburgh EH1 1LZ john.henry@ed.ac.uk NOTES 1 Westman 1980; Jardine, 1988; De Pace, 1993; Høyrup, 1994; Dear, 1995; Mancosu, 1996. 2 Sherrington (1946); the editor’s introduction in Fernel (2003), pp. 1-12; Siraisi (2007), pp. 122-25. 3 There is another early source, published before Plancy’s Vita, but it is shorter than Plancy’s and generally assumed to be based on access to a manuscript copy of Plancy. It appears in Thevet, 1584. On this and other early biographies, see Sherrington, 1946, pp. 148-9. 4 Sherrington, 1946, provides a complete list of editions of Fernel’s works, pp. 187- 207. 5 There were, of course, other innovators in the medical sciences in this period, particularly in the field of anatomy (Vesalius, Fabricius, etc.), but only Paracelsus, Fracastoro, and Fernel deliberately tried to develop a new theory of health and disease, intended to go beyond the prevailing Galenic theory. 6 On Paracelsus, see Pagel, 1958; Weeks, 1997; Grell, 1998. On Fracastoro, see Di Leo, 1953; Peruzzi, 1995. On Fernel, see Figard, 1903; Sherrington, 1946; and the editors’ introductions in Fernel, 2003 and 2005. See also the special issue of the journal, Corpus, devoted to Fernel: Kany-Turpin, 2002. 7 The quotation is from Guillaume Plancy’s Vita of Fernel, written about 1567 and first published in 1607: Guillaume Plancy, ‘Ioannis Fernelii D. Medici Vita’, in Fernel, 1607. A full translation of this is included in Sherrington, 1946, pp. 150-70, mailto:john.henry@ed.ac.uk Page 46 of 50 and I quote from this throughout. The 1607 Vita is unpaginated, but for those who wish to consult the Latin, I provide the printer’s signature marks in Fernel, 1607, following the references to Sherrington’s translation. On Fernel’s influence see Sherrington, 1946, pp. 98-146; Brockliss, 1993; Brockliss and Jones, 1997, pp. 128- 38. 8 On the associations between medicine and mathematics see, for example, Maclean, 2002, pp. 171-90. The distinguished scholar Lynn Thorndike wrote that Fernel ‘continued the common medieval association of mathematics with medicine’; see Thorndike, 1941, p. 557. 9 See Westman (1980); Feingold (1984); and Schmitt (1984). 10 See Mahoney (1994), 12. 11 On patronage, Dawbarn and Pumfrey, 2004; Johnston, 2006. On Galileo, Biagioli, 1993. On Descartes, for example, Gaukroger, 1995. See also, for a general survey of the different social backgrounds of mathematicians in this period, Biagioli, 1989. 12 Although it is necessary to distinguish between different kinds of practical mathematics. Fine was evidently interested in cosmography, cartography and related aspects of the mathematical sciences, but he disdained the use of mathematics in commerce. See Davies, 1960, pp. 30-31. 13 On Jacques Govea see Sherrington, 1946, p. 172. Jacques was uncle to the more famous humanist scholar Andreas Govea, who disputed with Petrus Ramus. I have been unable to discover anything about Martin Dolet (which perhaps explains why Sherrington makes no mention of him, in marked contrast to his treatment of Govea). Presumably he is the same Martin Dolet who published at Paris, in about 1508. It is possible that he acted as a patronage broker; this is discussed below. Page 47 of 50 14 Practical utility seems to have been one of the two main concerns of potential patrons; the other being a concern for ostentatious or spectacular display, which would enhance the fame and prestige of the patron. For a full discussion of the nature of Renaissance patronage see Dawbarn and Pumfrey, 2004. See also, Moran, 1991. As far as I am aware there has been no previous discussion of Fernel’s attempts to attract patronage. 15 Copernicus, 1992, pp. 9-10; Vogel, 2006, pp. 479-80; Randles, 1993, pp. 69-70. There is no reason to suppose, however, that Copernicus knew of Fernel’s Cosmotheoria. 16 Albert van Helden says that ‘all educated persons after about 1250 were familiar with the principle of nesting spheres and the cosmic dimensions derived from it’ (Helden, 1985, p. 37). Unfortunately van Helden overlooks Fernel’s contribution to this aspect of cosmology. 17 For a fuller discussion of this aspect of the mathematics of proportions, see Høyrup, 1994, pp. 163-4. On the science of the good life see Jones, 2006. 18 Fernel (1528b), sig. Aiiiir For a discussion of the use of proportions in medicine see McVaugh (1987). 19 Although Plancy makes Fernel’s father-in-law play the lead role here, Fernel’s wife came to the fore in later accounts. Lalande, 1771, Tome I, p.189, for example, said of Fernel that ‘il en auroit fait davantage si sa femme ne l’eût forcé, pour ainsi dire, à quitter l’étude stérile des Mathematiques’. It is significant for our purposes that Lalande attributes to Fernel’s wife a belief that mathematics is a sterile pursuit. 20 Sherrington, 1946, p. 4, where Sherrington tells us Fernel’s books cost 5 sols each, and the two books of plates were 10 and 12 sols each. See also Sherrington, 1946, pp. Page 48 of 50 15, 188 and 189. Sherrington cites as his source, Renouard, 1526-46, p. 428, but I have been unable to check this. 21 Sherrington, 1946, p. 160; Fernel, 1607, sig. **2v. Plancy is reflecting his master’s views here, since the stellar causation of pestilential disease is the main theme of Fernel’s De abditis rerum causis of 1548 (Fernel, 2005). Sherrington, 1946, fails to note this distinction between what is held to be valid in astrology and what is not, and tries to suggest (incorrectly) that Fernel, after writing the De abditis rerum causis, came to reject astrology tout court; Sherrington, 1946, pp. 33-4. For a fuller discussion of Sherrington’s attitude to Fernel’s astrology, see the editors’ introduction in Fernel, 2003, pp. 3-4. 22 For an excellent outline of the history of astrology, see Tester, 1987. See also Webster, 1982; Garin, 1983; Rutkin, 2006. 23 It is generally agreed that, in spite of Osiander’s intervention, Copernicus really did believe in the physical truth of his mathematically determined system. This seems evident from Copernicus’s own preface, his dedicatory epistle to Pope Paul III (Copernicus, 1992, pp. 3-6), and from the response of Copernicus’s friends, Georg Rheticus and Tiedeman Giese, when they heard what Osiander had done. Johannes Kepler claimed that Copernicus was the first thinker to reject the separation between mathematics and natural philosophy, but some modern scholars give this accolade to Kepler himself. See, for examples, Jardine, 1984, and Grant, 1994, pp. 38-9. It has also been suggested that Regiomontanus (1436-1476) was the first (Shank, 2002). 24 Attention was first brought to the split between realists and instrumentalists in astronomy by Pierre Duhem, 1908, 1969. The easy distinction between natural philosophers, seeking a realist cosmology, and mathematicians offering an instrumental astronomy, has proved highly fruitful for recent historiography and Page 49 of 50 undoubtedly reflects, to a large extent, the historical reality. Attempts to challenge this view by pointing to mathematicians who were realists, do not invalidate the distinction but, rather, add to our understanding of how mathematicians moved into the realm of natural philosophy (by becoming realists, in spite of being mathematicians). See Westman, 1980; Jardine, 1984; Jardine, 1988. Similarly, the recent attempt to claim that instrumentalism was not a genuine position but should be seen, rather, as ‘frustrated realism’ (frustrated by inability to come up with an astronomically satisfactory realist model of the cosmos) (Barker and Goldstein, 1998), has been countered by Michael H. Shank’s claim that instrumentalism (or fictionalism) was ‘an actor’s category in Osiander and sixteenth-century astronomy’ (Shank, 2002, p.179). 25 Westman, 1980, p. 136; Randles, 1993, pp. 69-70; Vogel, 2006, pp. 479-80. 26 Jardine, 1988, especially pp. 693-7, which is concerned with arguments about the certainty of mathematics; Mancosu, 1996; Høyrup, 1996. Jardine and Mancosu take their lead from a series of works by G. C. Giacobbe, which first drew attention to this debate on the Quaestio de certitudine mathematicarum. See, for example, Giacobbe, 1972a; 1972b; 1973. See also De Pace, 1993. 27 As one leading historian of mathematics has argued, from the late fourteenth to the mid-sixteenth century ‘mathematics and formalized philosophy live largely separate lives’ (Høyrup, 1994, p. 125). For another account of the severe limitations on bringing mathematics and philosophy together see Molland, 1987. 28 Rose, 1975; Biagioli, 1989; Høyrup, 1994; Dear, 1995; Marr, 2009. 29 I am dependent here, and in the following discussion, on the account provided by Rose, 1975, pp. 5-18. On Alberti and Pacioli, and the lack of any concern that Page 50 of 50 mathematics needed to be justified in terms of its relationship to philosophy see Høyrup, 1994, pp. 148, 154. 30 Piccolomini, 1940, p. 210. This was originally written in 1450 as a letter of advice about the education of the young king, Ladislas V of Hungary (1440-1457). See Rose, 1975, p. 14. Essentially the same assessment of the usefulness of mathematics in education can be seen, much later, in Francis Bacon’s Advancement of Learning of 1603. 31 See Dawbarn and Pumfrey (2004); and Tittler (1976). 32 See Yates, 1964, and Walker, 1972. There is an alternative account of the reasons for Bacon’s inability to recognise the usefulness of mathematics, namely its association with magic. See, Yates, 1967 (reprinted in Yates, 1984). In my view the argument simply does not work, because Bacon adopted and adapted much of his philosophy from the magical tradition (see Rossi, 1968 and Henry, 2002), and so the association of mathematics with magic would not have been a reason to put him off. On the association of mathematics with magic see, for example, Zetterberg, 1980; Eamon (1983); Molland (1988); Henry (1990); and Henry (2008). 33 See, for example, Aristotle, Parva naturalia I, 436a 19-436b 1. For a discussion of the belief that medicine and natural philosophy were necessary complements to one another, see Temkin, 1977, and Temkin, 1991, pp. 8-17. 
work_r4ghplp4kze5fbh5zf4a3allbi	----	A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures Sambit Datta and David Beynon 471issue 04, volume 03international journal of architectural computing IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 471 A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures Sambit Datta and David Beynon Recovering the control or implicit geometry underlying temple architecture requires bringing together fragments of evidence from field measurements, relating these to mathematical and geometric descriptions in canonical texts and proposing “best-fit” constructive models.While scholars in the field have traditionally used manual methods, the innovative application of niche computational techniques can help extend the study of artefact geometry.This paper demonstrates the application of a hybrid computational approach to the problem of recovering the surface geometry of early temple superstructures.The approach combines field measurements of temples, close-range architectural photogrammetry, rule-based generation and parametric modelling.The computing of surface geometry comprises a rule-based global model governing the overall form of the superstructure, several local models for individual motifs using photogrammetry and an intermediate geometry model that combines the two.To explain the technique and the different models, the paper examines an illustrative example of surface geometry reconstruction based on studies undertaken on a tenth century stone superstructure from western India.The example demonstrates that a combination of computational methods yields sophisticated models of the constructive geometry underlying temple form and that these digital artefacts can form the basis for in depth comparative analysis of temples, arising out of similar techniques, spread over geography, culture and time. 472 IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 472 1. INTRODUCTION Computational modelling provides a robust methodology for researching the genesis and evolution of geometry in temple architecture.The fragmented discontinuity of textual accounts, lack of graphical representations and heavily eroded early remains make the process of establishing the lineage of formal continuity difficult. In this context, computation presents an attractive methodology for capturing, analyzing and comparing partial geometry models from textual and graphic descriptions and specific temple sites spread over time, geography and culture. For example form models can be derived from data recovered from existing temples, two and three-dimensional idealized geometries can be reconstructed from textual canons (shastras) and these models can be analyzed and compared to yield new knowledge on the role of geometry in the genesis and evolution of temple architecture over time.This paper describes such a methodology and reports its application for recovering the surface geometry of temple superstructures. The methodology comprises the combination of three distinct computations. First, a generic archetypal model of the superstructure surface using rule-based computation is generated. Second, detailed models of individual motif geometry from temples are recovered using close range photogrammetry. Finally, the superstructure geometry is developed by combining the first and second computations to generate a three dimensional solid model of the surface geometry. Using the superstructure of a tenth century latina temple as an illustrative example, each of the above computations is described in this paper. 2.TEMPLE GEOMETRY From its early beginnings in the fifth century, the Brahmanic/Hindu tradition created a rich body of temples which spread across India and influenced temple building in Southeast Asia [1, 2].The legacy of this diasporic movement evolved over time through a process of long experimentation with philosophies, form, and constructive methods.These traditions remain celebrated today in mature expressions such as Angkor Wat (Cambodia), Khajuraho (India) and Prambanan (Indonesia). While there are thousands of variations in form, essentially every temple in the Brahmanic/Hindu tradition can be understood through principles outlined in canonic Sanskrit texts (shastras) such as Mayamata and Agni Puranas [3].These texts provide sets of prescriptive rules which touch on all aspects of temple construction; site selection, formal types, details, and location of sculptural elements. The architectural elements described by such shastras are based on a number of geometric figures known as mandalas, and it is from these ritual and cosmic diagrams that temple plans and superstructure have been generated. 473A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 473 Studies of Indic temple geometry have demonstrated the correspondence of canonical descriptions of constructive geometry with the base plans of surviving monuments. However, as these temples were built in dynamic, ever-changing cultural, physical and sectarian contexts, the actual practise of this knowledge was the subject of wide experimentation over several centuries within the regional schools of temple building [4-6]. Thus while the shastras may have been prescriptive, a multitude of interpretations and variations were possible within the canonical rules. Indeed, this ambiguous relationship between strict canon and subtle experimentation presents many challenges in relating the idealized geometry models to extant temples [7]. To understand the evolution of temple architecture, it is necessary to address the relationships between the construction and conception of temples through a rigorous examination of the geometries at play.To address this it is necessary to return to the formal foundations of Indian temple architecture, the early Nagara cella.The evolution of the cella embodied a progressive elaboration of this prototypical schema, using a sacred constructive geometry that conveyed the syncretic Brahmanic cosmology [8].The formal schema of the cella comprises the base (pitha), an inner sanctum (prasada) and, later, a superstructure of distinctive form (in particular the curvilinear sikhara of the northern Indian Nâgara tradition). The morphology of the Indian temple and its progressive geometric complexity can thus be followed from the earliest extant cellae in the fifth century to entire thirteenth century complexes and temple cities across India and Southeast Asia. Textual and graphic descriptions of mathematical and geometric constructions governing the form of temples are described in the literature. We draw upon this literature to extract two and three dimensional propositions of geometry governing the conception, composition and construction of temples. Scholars have explained the use of geometry in temple plans by tracing their basis in canonical text, sacred diagrams and cosmogony [1-3, 9]. Specifically, the constructive and implicit relationships between geometric canon and individual monument are explained through studies of temple geometry [4-6]. In this paper, we address the surface geometry of stone superstructures. The superstructures of latina temples have a distinctive curvilinear form composed of a series of motifs as shown in Figure 1 The surface geometry of these structures, a result of intricate geometric experimentation with stereochromic techniques and carving, have been described in the literature [1, 10].To recover the constructive principles underlying these forms, a hybrid approach combining field measurements, rule-based generation, close-range photogrammetry and parameterized models is described in this paper. 474 Sambit Datta and David Beynon IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 474 3. METHOD TO RECOVER SUPERSTRUCTURE GEOMETRY The global model of the surface is constructed by using ruled-based generative modelling. Horizontal and vertical control geometries of the surface are derived from textual (canonical) accounts in the temple literature.The global model is then subdivided into four component motifs. Each component motif is modelled as a detailed local model using close- range architectural photogrammetry. Finally, the global surface is tiled with the motif models.The approach comprises the following steps: 1. a global model of the superstructure using rule-based generation; 2. local models of motif geometry; 3. parametric tiling model combining the above. The computation of each of the above is described in the following sections using the surface geometry of a tenth century stone superstructure: the temple of Ranakdevi at Wadhwan in Western India [11]. 4. GENERATION OF SKELETAL GEOMETRY Archetypal forms of superstructure can be computed from generic descriptions of geometric construction using rule-based generation.Textual and graphic descriptions of mathematical and geometric constructions described in the literature are codified in the form of shape rules and constructive methods to generate classes of formal three-dimensional geometry corresponding to the two-dimensional canonical descriptions. The three dimensional form of the superstructure is based on encoding two control profiles: the horizontal plan profile and a vertical curved profile � Figure 1. Superstructure of a stone temple (960 CE) from the Maha- Gurjara school of temple building, western India. A hybrid approach that combines rule-based generation, photogrammetry and parametric modelling is used to explain the geometry of the form. 475A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 475 (Figure 2).The profiles are computed using a set of boundary solid grammar (Heisserman and Woodbury, 1993) shape rules derived from the literature on temple geometry.The generation of geometric form with this technique allows a large class of profiles, and by extension superstructure forms to be explored. 4.1. Plan Profiles Embedded in the plan of most temples is a ritual grid diagram of 8 x 8 = 64 squares (mandala) prescribed for temple building in the Brhat Samhita and later texts [3].This grid is used to generate the ground plan and control measure in the configuration of stone temples [5].The horizontal profile depends on the number of offsets (angas) and the proportional relationships between each offset based on the subdivision of the sixty-four square grid. The grid diagram of 8 x 8 (64) squares, is used to generate the ground plan and control measure in the configuration of stone temples. Meister [4, 5] show how the horizontal profile depends on the number of offsets and the proportional relationships between each offset based on the subdivision of the sixty-four square grid. Following this, the horizontal profile of the temple of Ranakdevi is determined by recursive subdivision of the ritual grid of 64 squares.The basic module (mulasutra), of the ritual grid determined from field measurements, is a=660mm. Following the method reported by Meister [5], the offsets of the profile are determined based on the mulasutra (a).The horizontal profile has three offsets (four faces, caturanga) and these are sub measures of the basic module, a, a/4, a/4 and a/6 respectively.The width of the offsets in terms of the basic module (mulasutra) are 5a/4, 7a/8, a/4 and 7a/4 respectively. Using these measurements, the plan profile of the temple is computed (Figure 3). Rules describe the operations involved in elaborating a profile from the simple square grid. By recursive subdivision, offsets are generated on each side and proportional relationships attached to each of the offsets. � Figure 2. Left: Surface Geometry of a temple with three offsets (four faces) showing the curvature. Middle: A generated example showing a base with three offsets, central axis and geometric envelopes of the central spine (offset). Right:Top view of a generated example showing the global model of the surface geometry. 476 Sambit Datta and David Beynon IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 476 4.2. Curve measure The vertical profile is based on the extrusion of the profile of the ground plan in the vertical direction [12].The extrusion in the vertical direction is based on a curved profile (rekha).This profile establishes the degree of curvature of the superstructure and controls the overall geometry of the superstructure (Figure 2).This profile establishes the degree of curvature of the superstructure. Following Kramrisch [3] and Dhaky [10], Datta [13] shows how this curve measure can be computationally generated based on textual descriptions. The procedure is dependent on the height of the superstructure, the number of vertical units chosen for each offset and the choice of an integer for controlling the curvature (3, 4, 5, 7). In actuality, each offset has a different number of units, and hence a different rhythm. For simplicity, we treat the entire superstructure as a single unit (Figure 3). Following Kramrisch [3], the rules for deriving the rekha are summarised as: � Figure 3.The superstructure geometry is controlled by two horizontal closed profiles in plan and an open curved profile in section.The rules for computing these profiles are described.The horizontal profile (caturanga) is offset into four faces based on a proportionate subdivision of the ritual 8x8 grid.The curve measure (caturguna) is derived by joining points of intersection in the vertical grid in the XZ-plane. Note: By changing the control parameters of the vertical XZ-grid, different curvatures can be obtained. 477A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 477 If the base profile (ritual grid) is divided into ten parts, then the width of the top of the superstructure or skandha, is six parts, the height being given (multiple of mulasutra).This establishes the extent of the bottom and top profiles. If the integer chosen for the curve is 4 (caturguna), the height is H, and then the successive vertical divisions are: H/4, 1/4 (H - H/4), 1/4(H - 3H/4), up to n terms, where n is the number of units [11-13]. As described above and shown in figure 3, the global geometry of the superstructure can be thus characterized by the following: 1 generating a horizontal base profile in the XY-plane based on rules for dimensioning the 8x8 grid and its proportionate subdivision into offsets; 2. generating a vertical curved profile based on rules for dimensioning a vertical grid in the XZ-plane and its proportionate subdivision into stone units. As the profile creation process is computed from parametric rules based on canonical description, a large class of profiles, and by extension, superstructure geometry, can be explored.The advantage of this rule-based generation of profiles based on parameterized rules is that the same set of rules can be used to generate “best-fit” constructive models that correspond to field measurements and observations of surviving monuments. In this way, the computability of a global geometry can form the basis for comparative analyses of a multitude of temple superstructures that are derived from the same constructive canon. Further, the comparison of generated global models allows for a rapid evaluation of the geometric similarities and differences between multitudes of samples.The application of this method to comparing the base and superstructure of several samples from South and Southeast Asia is currently being undertaken by the authors. 5. RECOVERY OF MOTIF GEOMETRY The next stage of the method is the recovery of the individual motif geometries. Recall that the form of the superstructure is based on an extrusion of the caturanga plan profile following the vertical curve profile (caturguna rekha).The offsets of the superstructure (Figure 1) are tiled with distinctive units of carving that progressively diminish through self-similar copies, following the surface geometry of the superstructure (Figure 3).The geometry of these motifs can be accurately derived using control points determined from field measurements and digital photogrammetry. As shown in figure 1, the complexity of the surface patterns and the difficulties associated with direct manual measurements of these intricate motifs, necessitated the use of close-range architectural photogrammetry for recovering the motif geometry.The global model described previously serves as the “base” geometry for analysis, recovery and tiling of motif data from calibrated images of individual monuments. 478 Sambit Datta and David Beynon IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 478 Over the last decade, hybrid approaches, combining close-range photogrammetry with model-based methods have been proposed in the literature for recovery and reconstruction of geometry from photographs. For example, DIPAD combines digital photogrammetric methods with CAD models in a priori and a posteriori modes [14].The Facade system combines photogrammetry with a model-based stereo algorithm to develop architectural scenes and renders these scenes with view-dependent texture mapping [15]. In our approach, the 2D and 3D surface information is extracted from calibrated photographs of superstructures using close range architectural photogrammetry (Figure 4) supported by control points from field measurements of temples [11].This process recovers the elemental geometric information in vector form in the form of points, lines, curves and planar surfaces. Control points from field surveys are used to add accuracy to the model information.These elemental geometries are then converted into closed 2D profiles in a CAD modelling environment. Here, the accuracy of the data is further improved and validated. Finally the profiles are converted into solids through standard constructive geometry (surfaces and solids) operations (extrusions, Booleans) into motifs. The derivation of the motif geometry of the central offset is described here using three models. Based on measurements of the control points of the motif, a global bounding box model is established.This bounding box information is necessary from two perspectives, to accurately apply metric information to the photogrammetric process and to provide a graphic � Figure 4. Models of individual elements of superstructures are generated using close-range architectural photogrammetry, supported by control points from field measurements. 479A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 479 “handle” for creating scaled copies of the unit, described in the next section.The bounding box is then subdivided into a number of equal horizontal bands (see back plate in Figure 5). Finally, the units of carving are superimposed onto the horizontal band model (Figure 5 and Figure 6). The faces of the carving motifs are simplified into planes for easing the construction of the three dimensional model (Figure 5). In the actual motif, the gavaksha pattern is a smoothly curved surface. Further work is necessary to accurately represent the subtle curvature in the stonework. � Figure 5.The motif geometry of the central spine is recovered into a three dimensional tile made of two interlaced segments, a “back plate” of horizontal bands and superposed units composed of carved patterns. � Figure 6:The local geometry of the central spine is computed into a three dimensional tile made of a bounding box and two interlaced segments, a band model and units composed of carved pattern (gavaska patterns). 480 Sambit Datta and David Beynon IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 480 6.TILING OF SURFACE GEOMETRY In the final step, the model obtained from rule-based generation is combined with the detailed models of motifs. Each of the offsets has a separate motif and distinct sequence of constituent units forming their surface.This change in the surface geometry, and hence in the proportional series, imbues the surface with a complex rhythm.Taken together, the skeletal global model, three dimensional motif geometries and the series formulation of proportionate tiling defines the surface geometry of a latina temple superstructure. To demonstrate this process, we focus on a single part of the superstructure, the central offset.The computing of the final geometry is broken into three parts, a skeletal model of the central offset, a parametric tiling rule for subdividing this model into constituent units and a tiling function for substituting the constituent units with individual motifs [16]. The bounding (skeletal) geometry of this offset is tiled with scaled copies of the unit of carving described in the previous section.The parametric surface is developed using the global model as a skeletal surface and this skeletal surface is tiled with a sequence of scaled units using the local geometry of the motif (Figure 6).The shape and appearance of model entities are derived by parameterization and generative modelling to support multiple variations from the same motif geometry.This forms the basis for the repetitive tiling of the surface using a scaling function based on the curve profile shown in Figure 3. A parametric model of the three dimensional surface is developed based on geometric sequences measured from the example shown in Figure 2. The tiling function is based on the sequential subdivision of the curved surface.The tiling geometry of the central offset of the superstructure in this temple comprises 27 units.The first (lowest) unit is enclosed in a bounding box of size, 4a/3 x a/3 and the last unit has a bounding box of 4a/7 x a/7, with the remaining 25 units falling within these limits in a series progression.The tiling of the central spine is computed by recursive subdivision of the global geometry using this series formulation of the scaled motifs [11, 13].The bounding box of each unit is computed from a set of parameters that control the global model such as the initial starting unit, number of units, scale factor and type of progression.These are then tiled within the enclosing geometry of the central (bhadra) spine (Figure 7). This process rationalizes the degree of curvature derived from the rule- based curve generation into planar facets that approximate the curvature. Thus the explicit derivation of the curvature of the form as shown in Figure 4 now replaced by a family of polygonal tiles related by a function of the underlying series mathematics. It is now possible to derive the motif geometry directly from this model by a simple substitution rule that maps the bounding box of each unit to the specific geometric size of the tile shown in Figure 5.The final parametric 481A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 481 model comprises the three dimensional surface and a collection of scaled repetitions of the original motif sequences measured from the example shown in Figure 2.The resultant model gives the final superstructure geometry where each tile in the series is a self similar scaled version of the motif model geometry (Figure 7). 7. EXTENSIONS The computational approach described in this paper results in the creation of multiple partial three dimensional models of superstructure geometry. It is envisaged that these models will be useful for: 1. supporting the comparative analysis of superstructure geometry of temples from related temple building traditions (e.g. within South and Southeast Asia); 2. piecing together the genesis and evolution (over time) of the geometric experimentation within specific schools of temple building (e.g. Maha-Gurjara, Chandela, etc.); and 3. explaining the complex and problematic linkages between canonical prescriptions of ideal form with the analysis of data recovered from surviving monuments. The methods described in this paper will be extended through a research project that aims to trace the genesis and evolution of temples in India and Southeast Asia from early experiments to mature expression.The geometric � Figure 7. Left:The skeletal geometry of the central spine is subdivided into constituent units based on a series progression. Right: A tiling function replaces each constituent unit in the series with self similar motif geometry. 482 Sambit Datta and David Beynon IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 482 basis of this architecture will be pieced together from diagrams and canonical descriptions, rule-based generation of idealized form models and close-range architectural photogrammetry of temple remains.Through a comparison of the relationships between cosmology, geometry and physical form using computational methods, in these early sites with both Indian and Southeast Asian models, it is intended that the generative role of geometry within the architectural historiography of Brahminic temples can be clarified and more fully developed. The digital models of the tiles are manually created, and motif geometry is particularly tedious and time consuming to reconstruct due to the complexity of the shapes.There is scope to further automate this process by using laser scanning techniques.To address more complex superstructures based on tiling motifs, further work is necessary in this domain.Tools that combine interactive manual modelling (direct manipulation) with formal methods for solving tiling problems (solvers) offer one possible direction to extend the computational tools used in this work. 8. DISCUSSION The paper describes a computational technique for reconstructing the surface geometry of stone temple superstructures.The reconstruction present new possibilities for interpreting the formal and geometric basis of temple form.The combination of techniques described here in our hybrid approach, shows a dramatic improvement from past results [11-13].The advantage of this process over manual methods is partly a matter of speed, both of data collection and of making geometric comparisons. It is difficult to pinpoint exactly how the surface geometry of a particular monument relates to canonical descriptions in the Sanskrit texts. As this research has shown, the answers nevertheless seem embedded in the architectural remains and our research attempts to ‘read’ temple remains through computational means to derive a position as to their formal derivation from canon. In this aspect, our approach may be compared in a propositional sense to Robin Evans’ theories on geometry in architectural making [17]. Evans uses a series of translations to track the development of architectural form through projective geometry. In his work, the building as object is cast, through a series of drawings, to the finished product, a projection informed by the subjective experience of buildings.While Evans develops a proposition about how architecture develops through the translation of drawing into building, of representation into actuality, our particular challenge is the opposite, the translation of building through the geometric and proportional clues present in its form back to its description. In this reversal, computational means such as rule-based generation, photogrammetry and parametric modelling become useful methods for reconstruction. The digital reconstruction of cultural heritage, also known as Virtual 483A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 483 Heritage, is an established area of research. As Affleck and Kvan [18] observe, the majority of virtual heritage projects attempt to create in the computer a realistic representation of their subject, this is not the primary intent of this project (though it is a possible application). Partially this is an attempt not to fall into the trap of mistaking realism for authenticity, but essentially what is important is not so much to recreate a temple form, but to uncover how its architecture was developed by comparing its formal properties with models from which it may have been derived. Advances in computation provide new ways to explore, analyze and explain the genesis and evolution of these historical artefacts.The application of computational techniques enables us to bring together fragments of evidence, construe “best-fit” strategies and unearth implicit or hidden relationships. For example, in the temple superstructure example described here, the use of the ritual grid, well known in the layout of temple plans [4-6] was projected into the vertical plane to decipher the compositional structure of the superstructure, including the derivation of the curve measure.The use of series mathematics, well known from temple literature [13, 16], was used to develop the tiling models.The complexities of the surface geometry could be explored and repetitive models obtained through generation and parameterization.The example demonstrates the above principles in the context of one type of tenth century superstructure, one that follows the profile of the offset in plan, and a curve in section.The advantage of this process is that changes in any stage due to revision of assumptions or testing of alternatives can be easily propagated between the models. Further, since the models of the surface geometry are based on generic constructions, they can be easily transferred to other, similar forms such as related but different schools of temple building can be easily incorporated in any stage, whether due to revision of assumptions or the testing of alternatives. In placing a specific temple between its possible antecedents, the use of constructive geometry as a generator allows the study of the evolution of temple architecture form over time as a series of related instances of arising out of similar techniques. Thus, computation of spatial information plays a fundamental role in plotting any links between extant architectural remains and the principles of geometrical and architectural composition as presented in the texts.The representation of the building through the series of computed points is not just a device for aiding visualization but a deep description of its underlying geometry, a reverse analogue to the traits that Evans describes as the “instructional device” for the complex cutting of French renaissance stonework. Acknowledgements The authors would like to acknowledge the support and assistance of Rabindra Vasavada, CEPT; Michael Meister, University of Pennsylvania; Jörg 484 Sambit Datta and David Beynon IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 484 Krämer,TU Berlin; Lee Austin, Jackson Architecture, Melbourne, US Moorti, American Institute of Indian Studies, Gurgaon, the Built Environment Research Group (BERG) and Frank Stagnitti, Faculty of Science and Technology, Deakin University. References 1. Chandra, P. ed, Studies in Indian Temple Architecture, American Institute of Indian Studies,Varanasi, 1975. 2. Daigoro Chihara, Hindu Buddhist Architecture in Southeast Asia, E.J. Brill, Leiden, 1996. 3. Kramrisch, S., The Hindu Temple,Vols 1 & 2. University of Calcutta, Calcutta, 1946. 4. Meister, M.W., Construction and conception of mandapika shrines of central India. East and West, New Series, 1976, 26, 409-418. 5. Meister, M., Mandala and practice in Nagara architecture in northern India, Journal of American Oriental Society, 1979, 99(2), 204-219. 6. Hardy, A., Sekhari Temples, Artibus Asiae, 2002, 62 (1), 81-138. 7. Bafna, S., On the idea of the Mandala as a governing device, Journal of the Society of Architectural Historians, 2003, 59(1), 26-49. 8. Meister, M., On the development of morphology for a symbolic architecture: India. Anthropology and Aesthetics, 1986, 12, 33-50. 9. Michell, G.,The Hindu Temple: An Introduction to its Meaning and Forms, London, 1977. 10. Dhaky, M.,The chronology of the Solanki temples of Gujarat, Journal of Madhya Pradesh Itihasa Parishad, 1961, 3, 1-83. 11. Datta, S., Geometric Delineation in the Nâgara Cella: Study of the temple of Ranakdevi at Wadhwan,Thesis, School of Architecture, CEPT.Vastu Shilpa Foundation, Ahmedabad, 1993. 12. Datta, S., Modelling Sikhara form in the Maha-gurjara idiom, Michael Ventris Research Report, Institute of Classical Studies, Cambridge and Architectural Association (AA) London, 1994. 13. Datta, S., Infinite Sequences and the Form of Cella Superstructures in The Proceedings of the Third International Conference on Mathematics and Design, Deakin University, Geelong, 2001, 106-112. 14. Streilein, A., Niederöst, M., Reconstruction of the Disentis monastery from high resolution still video imagery with object oriented measurement routines. International Archives of Photogrammetry and Remote Sensing,Vol. XXII, Part 5, 1998, 271-277. 15. Debevec, P., C.Taylor, and J. Malik, Modelling and rendering architecture from photographs: A hybrid geometry and image-based approach, in Proceedings of SIGGRAPH 1996, 1996, 11-20. 16. Datta, S., On Recovering the Surface Geometry of Temple Superstructures in Bhatt, A., ed., Proceedings of the 10th International Conference on Computer Aided Architectural Design Research in Asia,TVB School of Habitat Studies, New Delhi,Volume 2, 2005, 253-258. 17. Evans, R.,The Projective Cast. Architecture and Its Three Geometries, Cambridge, Mass.: MIT Press, 1995. 18. Affleck, J. and Kvan,T., Reinterpreting Virtual Heritage, in Bhatt, A., ed., Proceedings of the Tenth Conference on Computer-Aided Architectural Design Research in Asia,TVB School of Habitat Studies, New Delhi,Volume 1, 2005, 69- 178. 485A Computational Approach to the Reconstruction of Surface Geometry from Early Temple Superstructures IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 485 486 Sambit Datta and David Beynon Sambit Datta Deakin University School of Architecture and Building 1, Gheringhap Street, Geelong 3217 Australia sambit.datta@deakin.edu.au IJAC 4-3 Final 19/12/05 1:40 pm Page 486 
work_plit6wwwo5dhjjmjb2bemv2fla	----	H E V I C T O R I A N A R T V J O R L J A N D T U P B E G I N N I N G S CP" T H R A E S T H E T I C H C V K K C H T uy ELIZABETH LOUISE BCTLESEN B . A . J University of NeorasK.a> 1971 . THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF MASTER OF ARTS i n the Department of History We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA September* 1975 In p r e s e n t i n g t h i s t h e s i s in p a r t i a l f u l f i l m e n t o f the requirements f o r an advanced degree at the U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia, I agree that the L i b r a r y s h a l l make it f r e e l y a v a i l a b l e f o r r e f e r e n c e and study. I f u r t h e r agree t h a t p e r m i s s i o n f o r e x t e n s i v e copying o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r s c h o l a r l y purposes may be granted by the Head o f my Department or by h i s r e p r e s e n t a t i v e s . It i s understood that copying or p u b l i c a t i o n o f t h i s t h e s i s f o r f i n a n c i a l gain s h a l l not be a l l o w e d without my w r i t ten pe rm i ss i on . Department of / - / / j TP £ ¥ The U n i v e r s i t y of B r i t i s h Columbia 2075 Wesbrook Place Vancouver, Canada V6T 1WS Date QcT. ft i i A B S T R A C T I n t h e l a t e 1870's E n g l i s h s o c i e t y w i t n e s s e d t h e r i s e o f t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t * a p h e n o m e n o n w h i c h a f f e c t e d t h e a r t a n d l i t e r a r y w o r l d s a n d w h i c h w a s c h a r a c t e r i z e d t h e n a n d l a t e r a s t h e p u r s u i t o f a r t f o r a r t ' s s a k e . T h e n o t o r i e t y o f t h e m o v e m e n t a t t h e t i m e o b s c u r e d i t s e x a c t l i m i t s a n d t h e o r i g i n s o f i t s i d e a s a n d v a l u e s . T h e i n - t e l l e c t u a l a n d l i t e r a r y s i d e o f t h e m o v e m e n t , e s p e c i a l l y t h e i d e o l o g y o f a r t f o r a r t ' s s a k e * a t t r a c t e d m o s t n o t i c e a n d c o m m e n t * y e t t h e p l a s t i c a r t s o f p a i n t i n g a n d i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n w e r e c r u c i a l t o t h e t h e o r i e s o f a e s t h e t i c i s m a n d i t s i m p a c t o n V i c t o r i a n c u l t u r e . T h i s t h e s i s e x a m i n e s t h o s e p l a s t i c a r t s * a n d t h e s o c i a l a n d e c o n o m i c c o n t e x t s i n w h i c h t h e y h a d a p l a c e * a n d t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p t o t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t . T h e a i m o f t h i s t h e s i s i s t o d e s c r i b e t h e c u l t u r a l c o n t e x t i n w h i c h t h e a e s t h e - t i c m o v e m e n t i n t h e a r t s d e v e l o p e d . 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T h e s o c i a l a n d e c o n o m i c c h a n g e s i n t h e f i n e a n d i n d u s t r i a l a r t w o r l d s f o r m a l a r g e p a r t o f t h i s s t u d y o u t o f n e c e s s i t y a n d i n d e a l i n g w i t h t h e m e c h a n i s m o f t h e a r t m a r k e t s , t h e c h a n g i n g s t a t u s o f t h e p a i n t e r , t h e r i s e o f t h e i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n e r a n d t h e g r o w i n g a c t i v i t y o f t h e m i d d l e - c l a s s e s i n t h e a r t w o r l d , I h a v e a t t e m p t e d t o d e m o n s t r a t e t h a t t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t w a s m e r e l y a n o f f s h o o t o f a l a r g e r c u l t u r a l p r o b l e m * a p r o b l e m w h i c h t h e V i c t o r i a n s c o u l d n o t s o l v e . i l l B e h i n d t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t w a s t h e p r o b l e m o f r e c o n c i l i n g t h e m e c h a n i s m a n d m e c h a n i s t i c r h y t h m s o f m o d e r n s o c i e t y w i t h a r t a n d t h e v a l u e s w h i c h a r t r e p r e s e n t e d , e s p e c i a l l y i n d i v i d u a l i s m , h u m a n i s m a n d t h e k n o w l e d g e o f l i f e s p r u n g o f f a i t h r a t h e r t h a n s c i e n c e . T h e s o l u t i o n s a n d c o m p r o m i s e s w h i c h e a r l i e r V i c t o r i a n s h a d a c c e p t e d w e r e n o l o n g e r p o s s i b l e t o m a n y p e o p l e i n t h e 1 8 7 0 ' s . iv TABLE OF CONTENTS Introduction: 1 I: The Royal Academy and the Role of Styles i n the Mid-Victorian Art World 15 II: The Crisis of the 1870's 94 III: Design Traditions i n the Manufactured Arts 142 Conclusion 206 Bibliography 221 V I L L U S T R A T I O N S - F i g u r e 1. - T h e E x h i b i t i o n o f t h e R o y a l A c a d e m y a t S o m e r s e t H o u s e , TfEl (1787) 23 F i g u r e 2. C h a r l e s W e s t C o p e , T h e C o u n c i l o f t h e R o y a l A c a d e m y S e l e c t i n g P i c t u r e s f o r t h e E x h i b i t i o n , 1876 (1877) 24 F i g u r e 3. W . P . F r i t h , T h e P r i v a t e V i e w a t t h e R o y a l A c a d e m y , 1881 (1881) 26 F i g u r e 4. J o h n E . M i l l a i s , O p h e l i a (1852) 37 F i g u r e 5. W i l l i a m H o l m a n H u n t , S t r a y e d S h e e p (1852) 38 F i g u r e 6. W . P . F r i t h , T h e P r o p o s a l [ d e t a i l ] (1853) 41 F i g u r e 7. H . N . O ' N e i l , H o m e A g a i n , 1857 [ s e q u e l t o E a s t w a r d H o ! 18561 (18571 42 F i g u r e s - 8 , 9, 10. A u g u s t u s E g g , P a s t a n d P r e s e n t (1856) 44* 45* 46 F i g u r e 11. J o h n E . M i l l a i s , T h e R e s c u e (1855) 51 F i g u r e 12. W . P . F r i t h , T h e D e r b y D a y (1858) 52 F i g u r e 13. H e n r y B o w l e r , T h e D o u b t ; C a n T h e s e D r y B o n e s Y e t L i v e ? (1856) 53 F i g u r e 14. F r e d e r i c L e i g h t o n , C i m a b u e ' s M a d o n n a (1855) 55 F i g u r e 15. E d w a r d P o y n t e r , I s r a e l i n E g y p t (1867) 65 F i g u r e 16. A l b e r t M o o r e , A S u m m e r N i g h t (1890) 66 F i g u r e 17. L a u r e n c e A l m a - T a d e m a , T h e F a v o u r i t e P o e t (1888) 67 F i g u r e 18. E d w a r d P o y n t e r , T h e F o r t u n e - T e l l e r (1877) 73 F i g u r e 19. F r e d e r i c L e i g h t o n , F l a m i n g J u n e (1895) 74 F i g u r e 20. G . E . S t r e e t , P r o p o s e d L a w C o u r t s (1866) 77 F i g u r e 21. G . E . S t r e e t , L a w C o u r t s a s e x e c u t e d (1867) 78 F i g u r e 22. J a m e s W h i s t l e r , S y m p h o n y i n W h i t e , N o . I : T h e W h i t e G i r l (1862) 84 v i F i g u r e 2 3 . G e o r g e D u M a u r i e r , " I n t e l l e c t u a l E p i c u r e s , " P u n c h ( F e b r u a r y , 1876) 103 F i g u r e 24. G e o r g e D u M a u r i e r , " D i l e t t a n t i s m , " P u n c h ( J u n e , 1876) 104 F i g u r e 25. J a m e s W h i s t l e r , N o c t u r n e i n B l a c k a n d G o l d ; T h e F a l l i n g R o c k e t (1874) 115 F i g u r e 26. G e o r g e D u M a u r i e r , " M o d e r n A e s t h e t i c s , " P u n c h ( F e b r u a r y , 1877) 132 F i g u r e 27« G e o r g e D u M a u r i e r , " A e s t h e t i c P r i d e , " P u n c h ( S e p t e m b e r , 1879) 133 F i g u r e 28. W o r k i n g - c l a s s h o u s i n g , L o n d o n E a s t E n d (1860's- 1880's) 158 F i g u r e 29. L o w e r - c l a s s h o u s i n g , f r o m t h e A r t J o u r n a l , V I (1855) 159 F i g u r e 30. H e n r y C o l e , T e a s e t (1848) 160 F i g u r e 31. F o r d M a d o x B r o w n , B e d r o o m f u r n i t u r e ( e a r l y 1860's) 161 F i g u r e 32. J a c o b y a n d C o . , N o t t i n g h a m , L a c e c u r t a i n (1853) 163 F i g u r e 33. M e s s r s . H u n t e r , L o n d o n , S i d e b o a r d (1851) 164 F i g u r e 34- J o h n B e l l , H a l l t a b l e (1855) 168 F i g u r e 35* H . D u e s b u r y , F i r e - p l a c e (1851) 169 F i g u r e 36. C h r i s t o p h e r D r e s s e r , " G r o w t h " (1865) 171 F i g u r e 37. G e o r g e A i t c h i s o n , A r a b H a l l , L e i g h t o n H o u s e (1867) 177 F i g u r e 38. E . G o d w i n , W h i t e H o u s e , C h e l s e a (1878) 178 F i g u r e 39« W i l l i a m M o r r i s , B e d r o o m a t K e l m s c o t t H o u s e (1888) 185 F i g u r e 4O..0 L e w i s F . D a y a n d B . J . T a l b e r t , D e s i g n s (1878) 186 F i g u r e 41• G e o r g e D u M a u r i e r , " A c u t e C h i n a m a n i a , " P u n c h ( J u l y , 1873) 191 F i g u r e 42. G e o r g e D u M a u r i e r , " A r t i n E x c e l s i s , " P u n c h ( D e c e m b e r , 1874) 192 v i i F i g u r e 43. W i l l i a m H o l m a n H u n t , T h e A w a k e n e d C o n s c i e n c e (1854) 196 F i g u r e 44. S o l o m o n J . S o l o m o n , C o n v e r s a t i o n P i e c e (1884) 197 1 The greatest d i f f i c u l t y which confronts a student of the aesthe- t i c movement i n Victorian England i s coming to grips with i t as a movement and understanding the essential coherence which that term implies. The histories of the movement with their various approaches do not describe the same ideals, people or events, so that there i s no precise and recognizable phenomenon to begin researching. The earliest historians of the movement, Oscar Wilde ("The English Renais- sance of Art," Works, Vol. 1, 1908, pp. 243-277.) and Walter Hamilton (The Aesthetic Movement i n England, 1882,) were f i r s t published i n 1882 when aestheticism was the object of ridicule and the fashion of the 1 day. Both were eager to emphasize the positive and reasonable side of aestheticism and they concentrated on the English traditions which seemed to support their view of art for art's sake. Wilde invoked Shelley and Keats as well as Ruskin, .andr Hamilton looked to the Pre- Raphaelite Brotherhood, Ruskin, and the fleshly poets, D. G. Rossetti, William Morris and A. C. Swinburne. Yet their interpretations of art for art's sake, for a l l i t s ambiguity, did include an attack on Philistinism, the narrow utilitarianism and materialism of the middle- classes. They both included Ruskin i n their histories and praised him for his passionate crusade for art. Their histories show an aesthetic creed of art as a conquering force which, at that time, was beginning to transfigure the dull artifacts of modern l i f e with a hopeful and happy beauty. The foundation of their new art world was essentially democratic, i n that art was a popular concern, and, indeed, how could i t be otherwise with Wilde who related his history to the p towns of the American West? After 1882 the character of this a r t i s t i c .2. revival-changed_and i n 1892, Theodore..Child, i n an American book on art declared, "What does democracy care about art?""^ In the twentieth century, histories of the aesthetic movement have emphasized three closely related aspects of i t : the ideology of art for art's sake, the strong French influence, and the literary aestheticism of English poets and c r i t i c s . Of these works perhaps the best i s Albert J. Farmer's Le_ mouvement esthetique et decadent en Angleterre, 1873-1900 (1931) which covers the f i e l d carefully, a l - though concentrating on the intellectual and literary sides of the movement. The idea of art for art's sake'and i t s development i n philosophy and literature i s the subject of two studies, Rose Francis Egan's The Genesis of the Theory of 'Art for Art's Sake' i n Germany and i n England (1921) and Louise Rosenblatt's. L'Idee de l'art pour 1'art dans la litterature anglaise pendant la periode victorienne (1931). These studies focus of the development of the idea i n philo- sophy and literature that art i s separate from and superior to l i f e . The direct influence of French thought on English aestheticism was explored b r i e f l y by James K. Robinson i n "A Neglected Phase of the Aesthetic Movement: English Parnassianism," PMLA LXVIII (1853)* 733-54* The contact between English authors and c r i t i c s and the French decadent poets i n the 1860's and 1870's was crucial according to Robinson. The most entertaining history of the movement i s Wil- liam Gaunt's The Aesthetic Adventure (1945) which suffers from the obvious faults of a history that strives to entertain. It i s episodic and emphasizes personality to the point of obscuring less colorful -events-and-relationships. The latest study of aestheticism, Robert 3 Vincent Johnson's Aestheticism (1969) i s a summary of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake as a p r i n c i p l e of l i t e r a r y c r i t i c i s m . A l l of these studies contribute to an understanding of aesthe- t i c i s m as an i d e o l o g i c a l r e a c t i o n against the r e s t r i c t i v e , m a t e r i a l i s t i c society of the commercially motivated bourgeoisie. This r e a c t i o n occured i n England, Prance and Germany, although the most extreme examples of aestheticism were generally French, and the one acknow- ledged movement was i n England. A l l these works emphasize the i n - t e l l e c t u a l and l i t e r a r y l i f e of the s o c i e t i e s they analyze and t h e i r preoccupation with l i t e r a t u r e tends to overshadow developments i n the a r t world. The v i s i o n of a r t triumphant, reconstructing the outward countenance of modern l i f e as well as i t s reading matter, so evident i n Wilde and Hamilton, i s almost buried. The a t t e n t i o n paid to the ideology of the movement explains t h i s seeming neglect as the development of V i c t o r i a n a r t was not a r e f l e c t i o n of the broader i n t e l l e c t u a l l i f e of the nation, nor do works of a r t generally ade- quately express i n t e l l e c t u a l concerns. The l a t e s t h i s t o r i e s of the movement have approached the problem d i f f e r e n t l y . E l i z a b e t h A s l i n ' s The Aesthetic Movement: Prelude to Art Nouveau (19^9) was an attempt to demonstrate that the designers of the 1890's were b u i l d i n g on a t r a d i t i o n which stretched back to the 1870's. In doing so she emphasized the p l a s t i c a r t s , e s p e c i a l l y i n d u s t r i a l design. Robin Spencer's The Aesthetic Movement (1972) owes much to A s l i n ' s d e f i n i t i o n of the era's s t y l e ; The r e v i v a l of i n t e r e s t i n V i c t o r i a n a r t has l e d to countless e x h i b i t i o n s of paintings 4 a n d d e c o r e a t i v e a r t s , o n e o f w h i c h g a t h e r e d s o m e o f t h e m a j o r a r t i f a c t s o f t h e m o v e m e n t a t t h e C a m d e n A r t s C e n t r e . T h e c a t a l o g u e o f t h e e x h i - b i t i o n , T h e A e s t h e t i c M o v e m e n t (1973)* c o n t a i n s a n i n t e r e s t i n g b u t t o o b r i e f i n t r o d u c t i o n b y C h a r l e s S p e n c e r . T h e s e s t u d i e s c o n s i d e r a b l y e x t e n d o u r u n d e r s t a n d i n g o f a e s t h e t i c i s m b y i n c l u d i n g m o r e a r t i s t s a n d d e s i g n e r s i n t h e m o v e m e n t a n d b y e x t e n s i v e l y a n a l y s i n g w o r k s i n t h e f i n e a n d m a n u f a c t u r e d a r t s . T h e y t e m p e r t h e i r c o n s i d e r a t i o n o f i d e o l o g y w i t h a n e x a m i n a t i o n o f t h e p r a c t i c a l i t i e s o f a r t i s t i c p r o - d u c t i o n . T h e i r h i s t o r i e s a r e m o r e c o m p r e h e n s i v e t h a n e a r l i e r o n e s b e c a u s e t h e y a t t e m p t t o g o d e e p e r i n t o t h e s o c i a l a n d e c o n o m i c r e l a - t i o n s h i p s w h i c h p r o d u c e d a e s t h e t i c i s m . Y e t t h e i r s t u d i e s d o c o n f u s e t h e i s s u e c o n s i d e r a b l y , f o r b y e x t e n d i n g t h e r a n g e o f a c t i v i t i e s o f t h e m o v e m e n t , t h e c h a r a c t e r o f t h e m o v e m e n t i s e v e n m o r e v a g u e . A f t e r c o n s i d e r i n g t h e s e h i s t o r i e s o f t h e m o v e m e n t , t h e s t u d e n t a t t a c k s t h e p r o b l e m o f d e f i n i n g t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t a n d o r g a n i z i n g a n a t t a c k o n t h e h i s t o r i c a l p r o b l e m s i t p o s e s . A f e w g e n e r a l o u t l i n e s o f t h e m o v e m e n t s e e m c l e a r e n o u g h . I t b e g a n i n t h e 1870's a n d g r e w o u t o f s u c h e v e n t s a s W h i s t l e r ' s a r t i s t i c e x p e r i m e n t s i n t h e l a t e r 1860's, C h a r l e s E a s t l a k e ' s p u b l i c a t i o n o f H i n t s o n H o u s e h o l d T a s t e i n 1867* P a t e r ' s e s s a y o n W i l l i a m M o r r i s i n t h e W e s t m i n s t e r R e v i e w i n 1868 a n d h i s p u b l i c a t i o n o f S t u d i e s i n t h e H i s t o r y o f t h e R e n a i s - s a n c e i n 1873* a n d e v e n t h e P r e - R a p h a e l i t e e x p e r i m e n t o f t h e e a r l y 1850's. E v e n a t f i r s t g l a n c e i t i s a n o d d a s s e m b l y o f e v e n t s b u t o n c l o s e r s c r u t i n y , t h e p r o b l e m o f d a t i n g a m o v e m e n t a r e g r e a t e r s t i l l . O n e c a n n o t s i m p l y s a y t h a t t h e d e c a d e o r m o r e b e t w e e n t h e a p p e a r a n c e 5 o f t h e s e ~ p r e l i m i n a r y e v e n t s a n d t h e m o v e m e n t i t s e l f w a s t o a l l o w " d e v e l o p m e n t " ; w h y t h e n t h e d e l a y i n t h e c o a l i t i o n o f i d e a s , a c t i v i - t i e s a n d b e h a v i o r i n t o a m o v e m e n t ? T h e m o v e m e n t ' s a m b i g u o u s c h a r a c - t e r a n d i t s l a c k o f a n y s u r e l e a d e r s h i p o r c r e e d , s u c h a s h a d m a r k e d t h e P r e - R a p h a e l i t e , c o n t r i b u t e s t o t h i s c o n f u s i o n . I t i s c l e a r t h a t t h e m o v e m e n t w a s b o t h l i t e r a r y a n d a r t i s t i c ; a r t i s t s , p o e t s a n d c r i t i c s a l l c o n t r i b u t e d t o i t s p e c u l i a r v i e w o f r e a l i t y a n d t h e m o v e m e n t r e - f l e c t e d t h a t v i e w b a c k i n t o t h e a r t a n d l i t e r a t u r e o f t h e p e r i o d . Y e t t h e a c t u a l r e l a t i o n s h i p b e t w e e n a r t a n d l i t e r a t u r e r e m a i n s i n d i s - t i n c t f o r a l t h o u g h t h e " o n e n e s s " o f a l l t h e a r t s w a s a t e n e t o f a e s - t h e t i c i s m , m o s t c o n t r i b u t o r s t o t h e m o v e m e n t c o n c e n t r a t e d o n o n e a r t . O f t h e t w o m e n w h o w e r e c a p a b l e a r t i s t s a n d p o e t s ( f o r p o e t r y w a s t h e a c k n o w l e d g e d l i t e r a r y a r t ) , D . G . R o s s e t t i p r o d u c e d f e w w o r k s d u r i n g t h e l a t e r 1 8 7 0 ' s a n d W i l l i a m M o r r i s w a s d e c i d e d l y h o s t i l e t o t h e m o v e m e n t . A c l e a r e r r e l a t i o n s h i p e x i s t e d b e t w e e n t h e f i n e a r t s o f p a i n t i n g a n d a r c h i t e c t u r e , a n d t h e m a n u f a c t u r e d a r t s o r t e x t i l e a n d f u r n i t u r e d e s i g n . M a n y a r t i s t s w o r k e d i n b o t h f i e l d s a n d a s t r o n g s t y l i s t i c r e l a t i o n s h i p g r e w u p b e t w e e n t h e f i e l d s . A n o t h e r r e c o g n i z e d c h a r a c t e r i s t i c o f t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t i s i t s c l o s e r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h t h e P r e - R a p h a e l i t e B r o t h e r h o o d o f t h e l a t e 1 8 4 0 ' s a n d e a r l y 1 8 5 0 ' s . T h e k e y f i g u r e i n t h i s c o n n e c t i o n i s D . G . R o s s e t t i , a f o u n d i n g m e m b e r o f t h e B r o t h e r h o o d , w h o s e , f r i e n d - s h i p s w i t h E d w a r d B u r n e - J o n e s , W i l l i a m M o r r i s a n d J a m e s W h i s t l e r i n v o l v e d h i m i n a c i r c l e o f a e s t h e t i c a r t i s t s . B u t R o s s e t t i w a s o n l y o n e l i n e o f P r e - R a p h a e l i t e i n f l u e n c e . J o h n M i l l a i s a n d F o r d M a d o x 6 B r o w n e a c h i n f l u e n c e d , b y r e p u t a t i o n a n d e x a m p l e , t h e l a t e r g e n e r a t i o n o f a r t i s t s , t h o u g h i n v e r y d i f f e r e n t w a y s . T h e v i t a l i t y o f P r e - R a p h a e l i t e i d e a l s w a s s o g e n e r a l l y r e c o g n i z e d a n d s o p a t e n t l y m i s u n - d e r s t o o d i n t h e 1870's t h a t W . H . M a i l o c k , i n h i s N e w R e p u b l i c , r e - f e r r e d t o t h e c a r i c a t u r e o f W a l t e r P a t e r a s M r . R o s e , t h e P r e - 4 R a p h a e l i t e . O n e o f t h e r e a s o n s f o r t h i s c o n f u s i o n w a s t h e c o m m o n e n e m y s h a r e d b y P r e - R a p h a e l i t e s a n d a e s t h e t e s — b o u r g e o i s P h i l i s t i n i s m w h i c h c h a m p i o n e d t h e m a t e r i a l i s t i c a n d u t i l i t a r i a n o u t l o o k . T h e b a t t l e w h i c h R u s k i n b e g a n i n T h e S t o n e s o f V e n i c e a g a i n s t a r t i s t i c P h i l i s t i n i s m a n d i n s e n s i t i v e m a t e r i a l i s m w a s c a r r i e d o n i n t w o w a y s : f i r s t , b y W i l l i a m M o r r i s w h o a t t a c k e d t h e e c o n o m i c a n d s o c i a l f o u n d a - t i o n s o f c a p i t a l i s t s o c i e t y , a n d s e c o n d , b y E d w a r d B u r n e - J o n e s w h o c r i t i c i z e d t h e u g l y a n d f a l s e i n m o d e r n p r o d u c t i o n s b u t w h o s o u g h t a s o l u t i o n i n l i m i t e d p e r f e c t i o n t h r o u g h h i s a r t w o r k , a n d i n t h e p r e - s e r v a t i o n o f a r t f r o m t h e c o n t a m i n a t i o n o f b o u r g e o i s v a l u e s . M o s t a r t i s t s t o o k s i d e s w i t h B u r n e - J o n e s , i n c l u d i n g J a m e s W h i s t l e r , i n t h a t t h e y r e j e c t e d t h e v a l i d i t y o f b o u r g e o i s p r i n c i p l e s a n d v a l u e s i n a r t , b u t t h e y c o u l d n o t , l i k e M o r r i s , r e j e c t t h e i r u t i l i t y i n e v e r y d a y l i f e . M o r r i s t u r n e d R u s k i n ' s a t t a c k i n t o a c r u s a d e t o r e - c o n s t r u c t s o c i e t y , w h i l e o t h e r a r t i s t s a i m e d t o r e f o r m t a s t e a n d t o f i x a r t i n a s p h e r e s u p e r i o r t o a n d f r e e f r o m m a t e r i a l i s m a n d u t i l i - t a r i a n i s m . T h e s e t w o a p p r o a c h e s t o t h e r e f o r m o f a r t w e r e n o t m u t u a l l y e x c l u s i v e a s t h e l a t t e r n e c e s s a r i l y f o l l o w e d f r o m t h e f o r m e r . B u t t h e y o f t e n w o r k e d f r o m d i s t i n c t a n d c o n t r a d i c t o r y a s s u m p t i o n s a b o u t a r t a n d s o c i e t y . T h e l e g a l c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n R u s k i n a n d W h i s t l e r i n 7 1878 dramatically illuminated this conflict within the art world. Indeed the conflicts between the two camps of art partisans were sharper and more explicit than the deep but impotent hatred of Philistinism. Yet a l l these characteristics f a i l to give an adequate definition of aestheticism and bring us no closer to an understanding of the aesthetic movement and its place in the development of Victorian culture. The histories of the movement have accepted too readily the significance of the colorful and the eccentric and have failed to work out systematically the relationships between men and groups and ideas. Therefore important questions have been left unanswered despite the scholarly work done on the problem. Chief among these questions is what in fact was the aesthetic movement and how could i t become so notorious in the late 1870's and early 1880's without leadership, in the face of much hostility and seemingly containing numerous contradictions? If i t was in fact a "movement", what was its part in Victorian culture and what meaning did i t have for those who knew it? None of these issues have been explained in a way that contributes to our more complete understanding of the Victorian past. The student is only slightly less confused about the ideals of the movement after consulting the histories than he was before, and cursory research into the Victorian art world poses serious problems indeed. Relationships especially are truly bewildering. That James Whistler and W. P. Frith should be on opposite sides is not surprising but the rest of the witnesses in the Whistler vs. Ruskin t r i a l are 8 -more perplexing. Why were W. Mi Rossetti and Edward Burne-Jones on 5 opposite sides and why were they both such reluctant';,witnesses? What was the position of Frederic Leighton, then newly elected Presi- dent of the Royal Academy who was to be called i n as a witness for Whistler, but excused himself, pleading an appointment with the Queen to be knighted?^ Surely the t r i a l was much more than a battle for art for art's sake, but what other issues concerned the witnesses has never been closely examined. And i n the more complex world of the manufactured arts, problems of relationship are equally d i f f i c u l t . William Morris, Lazenby Liberty and Christopher Dresser a l l catered to the new aesthetic market i n manufactured a r t i c l e s and yet their commercial and a r t i s t i c styles had almost nothing i n common. Dresser's 7 shop, where attendants wore "aesthetic" costumes, was not a success. Morris and Liberty were succesful commercially but Morris was a painstaking craftsman and Liberty was a knowledgeable and s k i l l f u l dealer i n manufactured arts. How could observers i n the 1870's, and historians of aestheticism, accept them a l l equally as dealers i n art manufactures, as i f their great differences meant less than this superficial similarity of occupation. It would appear that for the sake of an idealogical or s t y l i s t i c unity, a reasonable aim i n these histories, cultural issues of more general significance have been neglected. If these histories of the aesthetic movement do not dispel the confusion surrounding certain events and people i n Victorian culture, i t must be acknowledged that such was not their intent. Their approaches 9 l i m i t e d t h e m t o a n e x a m i n a t i o n o f a e s t h e t i c i s m w h i c h t h e y g e n e r a l l y d e f i n e d ' ! a p r i o r i " a s t h e a v o w a l o f a r t f o r a r t ' s s a k e , a n d t h e c o n - f u s i o n a r i s e s n o t s o m u c h f r o m t h e m o v e m e n t i t s e l f b u t f r o m i t s r e - l a t i o n s h i p t o t h e c u l t u r a l l i f e o f t h e p e r i o d . T h e k e y t o u n d e r s t a n d i n g t h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p l i e s i n t h e m a t e r i a l w h i c h t h e h i s t o r i e s l a r g e l y i g n o r e . I t i s i n o r d e r t o u n d e r s t a n d t h i s a s p e c t o f t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t t h a t I h a v e u n d e r t a k e n t h i s s t u d y . I h a v e r e s t r i c t e d m y s e l f t o a n e x a m i n a t i o n o f t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f t h e a e s t h e t i c a r t m o v e m e n t a n d i t s r e l a t i o n s h i p t o t h e V i c t o r i a n a r t w o r l d i n g e n e r a l . T h e m o s t e f f e c t i v e m e t h o d o f i n v e s t i g a t i n g t h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p w a s t o e x a m i n e t h e V i c t o r i a n a r t w o r l d f i r s t a n d t o u n d e r s t a n d i t s w o r k i n g s . O n l y w i t h t h i s f o u n d a t i o n l a i d d i d t h e r i s i n g a e s t h e t i c i s m i n a r t m a k e s e n s e . I n o r d e r t o m a n a g e t h i s s t u d y , I i g n o r e d t h e p r o b l e m o f F r e n c h i n f l u e n c e e x c e p t i n o n e s p e c i f i c c a s e . T h e F r e n c h i n f l u e n c e s h a v e a l r e a d y b e e n a d e q u a t e l y c a t a l o g u e d i n e a r l i e r h i s t o r i e s a n d I a m n o t h e r e c o n c e r n e d w i t h t h e p h i l o s o p h y o f a r t f o r a r t ' s s a k e a n d i t s E u r o p e a n c h a r a c t e r , b u t r a t h e r w i t h t h e t r a d i t i o n s i n t h e E n g l i s h a r t c o n s c i o u s n e s s w h i c h c o n t r i b u t e d t o t h e m o v e m e n t . I n f l u e n c e , a f t e r a l l , i s t w o - f a c e d ; i t h a s t o b e a c c e p t e d a s w e l l a s g i v e n . I h a v e i g n o r e d t h e l i t e r a r y s i d e o f t h e m o v e m e n t , c o m p l e t e l y f o r t h e s a k e o f m a n a g e a b i l i t y a n d b e c a u s e l i t e r a t u r e i n s o c i e t y p o s e s d i f f e r e n t p r o b l e m s g a n d r e q u i r e s a d i f f e r e n t a p p r o a c h t h a n d o e s a r t i n s o c i e t y . A r c h i - t e c t u r e , t o o , h a s i t s o w n p e c u l i a r p r o b l e m s a n d h a s t h e r e f o r e , r e g r e t - f u l l y , b e e n e x c l u d e d . T h e r o l e o f a r c h i t e c t u r e i n t h e a r t t h e o r y o f t h e p e r i o d a n d t h e i m p o r t a n c e o f a r c h i t e c t u r a l s o c i e t i e s i n t h e o r g a n i - 10 z a t i o n o f t h e a r t w o r l d w e r e c r u c i a l t o t h e a r t c o n s c i o u s n e s s o f t h e e r a a n d t o t h e d e v e l o p m e n t o f p r o f e s s i o n a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s b e t w e e n a r t i s t a n d c l i e n t . I h a v e a v o i d e d t h e f i e l d c h i e f l y f o r t h e s a k e o f s i m p l i c i t y a n d c o h e r e n c e , a n d b e c a u s e i t w o u l d n o t s u b s t a n t i a l l y a l t e r t h e d i r e c t i o n o r c o n c l u s i o n s o f t h i s w o r k . M y s t u d y i s n o t , t h e r e f o r e , a h i s t o r y o f t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t o r a c o m p l e t e v i e w o f t h e V i c t o r i a n a r t w o r l d i n t h e 1870's. P o r t h e p u r p o s e o f o r g a n i z a t i o n a n d a n a l y s i s , I h a v e d e a l t w i t h t h e t w o m a j o r p a r t s o f t h e a r t w o r l d s e p a r a t e l y — t h e f i n e a r t s a n d t h e m a n u f a c t u r e d a r t s . I b e g i n b y e x a m i n i n g t h e f i n e a r t s a n d t h e d e v e l o p - m e n t u b f i n s t i t u t i o n s a n d r e l a t i o n s h i p s a m o n g a r t i s t s a n d t h e i r p a t r o n s . C e n t r a l t o t h i s d i s c u s s i o n i s t h e R o y a l A c a d e m y , t h e m o s t p o w e r f u l i n s t i t u t i o n c o n c e r n e d w i t h t h e f i n e a r t s , a n d i t s s u c c e s s e s a n d f a i l u r e s i n p r o t e c t i n g a r t f r o m p r a c t i c e s , p e o p l e a n d i d e a s w h i c h w e r e p e r c e i v e d a s t h r e a t e n i n g . T h e p r o b l e m s w h i c h e x i s t e d i n t h e f i n e a r t s h a d b e - c o m e s o c r i t i c a l b y t h e 1870's a s t o i n t e r f e r e w i t h a c c e p t e d r e l a t i o n - s h i p s a n d b e h a v i o r . T h i s c r i s i s i s e x a m i n e d i n t h e s e c o n d c h a p t e r . T h e l a s t c h a p t e r e x a m i n e s t h e m a n u f a c t u r e d a r t s a n d t h e p r o b l e m s p e c u - l i a r t o t h e m a s c o m m e r c i a l e n t e r p r i s e s a s w e l l a s t h e e f f e c t s o f t h e c r i s i s i n t h e V i c t o r i a n a r t c o n s c i o u s n e s s o n t h e m . T h e m a j o r f o r c e a f f e c t i n g t h e V i c t o r i a n a r t w o r l d w a s t h e p r e s - s u r e e x e r t e d b y t h e p r i n c i p l e s o f c o m m e r c i a l a n d i n d u s t r i a l p r a c t i c e , n o t a b l y t h e o p e r a t i o n s o f t h e a r t m a r k e t . T h e a n t a g o n i s m b e t w e e n t h e c o m m e r c i a l a n d a r t w o r l d s s t e m m e d f r o m t h e c l a s h o f v a l u e s o p e r a t i v e i n t h e s e w o r l d s . S u c h w a s t h e c o n f l i c t w h i c h R u s k i n r e c o g n i z e d b e - 11 t w e e n t h e i n h u m a n a n d i m p e r s o n a l e c o n o m i c m o t i v a t i o n s w h i c h p o l i t i c a l e c o n o m i s t s a s c r i b e d t o h u m a n s a n d t h e q u a l i t i e s o f c o m p a s s i o n a n d s a c r i f i c e w h i c h a r t h a d e v e r c h a m p i o n e d ; t h e s e v i e w s o f t h e e s s e n t i a l c h a r a c t e r . o f h u m a n n a t u r e w e r e i r r e c o n c i l a b l e . T h i s c o n f l i c t b e t w e e n m e c h a n i s m a n d h u m a n i s m o c c u p i e d m a n y b a t t l e f i e l d s i n t h e V i c t o r i a n w o r l d , b u t i n t h e w o r l d o f a r t t h e i s s u e w a s f o u g h t w i t h a p e c u l i a r l y i m p o t e n t f i e r c e n e s s . T h e h a t r e d o f m e c h a n i s m w a s t e m p e r e d b y a r e c o g - n i t i o n t h a t t h e n e w o r g a n i z a t i o n o f s o c i e t y a n d i t s n e w g o a l s w e r e n o t c o m p l e t e l y i n i m i c a l t o t h e q u a l i t y o f l i f e , o r t o t h e a r t i s t a n d h i s l i v e l i h o o d . B y t h e 1 8 7 0 ' s a r t i s t s c o u l d n o l o n g e r h o p e t o r e - c o n s t r u c t t h e w o r l d i n t o t h e i r i m a g e o f a n a r t - l o v i n g a g e a n d w e r e i n s t e a d f i g h t i n g f o r t h e v i t a l i t y a n d p r e s e r v a t i o n o f a r t . A l t h o u g h t h e g r e a t e n e m y w a s P h i l i s t i n i s m , m u c h o f t h e c o n t r o v e r s y i n t h e a r t w o r l d o f t h e 1 8 7 0 ' s a r o s e f r o m c o n f l i c t s b e t w e e n a r t i s t s o v e r t h e t r u e r o l e o f a r t i n m o d e r n l i f e , a n d a r t ' s e s s e n t i a l n a t u r e . T h e l o v e o f a r t p r o m o t e d a n i m p u l s e t o r e f o r m a n d r e c o n s t r u c t t h e o u t w a r d f o r m o f t h i n g s , o f b e h a v i o r a n d r e l a t i o n s h i p s a s w e l l a s a r c h i t e c t u r a l f a c a d e s a n d i n t e r i o r d e c o r a t i o n . T h i s b r o u g h t a b o u t a c u r i o u s m i x t u r e o f p r a c t i c a l a n d p e r v e r s e l y i m p r a c t i c a l p r o p o s a l s f o r r e f o r m . A s w e l l a s r e s i s t i n g u t i l i t a r i a n i s m a n d t h e c h a r a c t e r i s t i c d u l n e s s o f m o d e r n e x i s t e n c e , a r t - l o v e r s g r a p p l e d w i t h s p e c i f i c a e s - t h e t i c t r a v e s t i e s w h i c h c a l l e d f o r p r a c t i c a l m e a s u r e s s u c h a s t h e t r a i n i n g o f i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n e r s . T h e s e m e a s u r e s h a d t h e b e n e f i t o f u t i l i t a r i a n a s w e l l a s a r t i s t i c j u d g m e n t s . A r t , a t t e m p t i n g t o b e i n t h e w o r l d b u t n o t o f i t , p r o v e d t o b e a p e r v e r s e g o d d e s s a n d h e r 12 . . . d e v o t e e s w e r e t o r n b y a c r e e d w h i c h c o n t r a d i c t e d i t s e l f . T h e s e p a r a d o x e s w e r e a c c e n t u a t e d b y t h e n e w f o r c e s o f d e m o c r a c y , o f t h e m a s s e s a n d t h e i r a s p i r a t i o n s t o w a r d s e q u a l i t y . B y t h e m i d d l e o f t h e 1870's d e m o c r a c y w a s n o l o n g e r m e r e l y a t h e o r e t i c a l p r o b l e m b u t a r i s i n g p r e s e n c e m a k i n g n e w a n d f o r c e f u l d e m a n d s . T h e o r i e n t a t i o n s o f t h e m a s s e s t o a r t a n d o f a r t i s t s t o t h e m a s s e s w e r e o n e s - o f c a u - t i o u s s u s p i c i o n . T h e a r t i s t i c t r a d i t i o n h a d h a d , a f t e r a l l , a c l o s e r e l a t i o n s h i p w i t h t h e a r i s t o c r a c y , a n d i n t h e r u l e o f w e a l t h i n t h e a r t w o r l d o f t h e 1860's a n d 1870' s , t h e l o w e r - c l a s s e s h a d f e w o p e n i n g s a n d n o p o w e r . A r t i s t s a l s o f e a r e d t h e m a s s e s f o r t h e i r i g n o r a n c e , t h e i r c h a o t i c t a s t e s a n d t h e i r d e p e n d e n c e u p o n t h e m a t e r i a l i s m o f t h e p e r i o d . Y e t t h e i r v e r y f a c e l e s s n e s s , t h e i r b e i n g a n u n k n o w n q u a n t i t y , g a v e h o p e t h a t t h e y m i g h t y e t r e v i v e t h e n a t u r a l a n d f r e e h u m a n i s m i n w h i c h a r t i s t s b e l i e v e d . A l l t h e s e d e v e l o p m e n t s c o m b i n e d i n t h e l a t e 1860's a n d e a r l y 1870's t o p r e c i p i t a t e a c r i s i s i n t h e V i c t o r i a n a r t c o n s c i o u s n e s s , t h a t a w a r e n e s s o f a r t w h i c h e x i s t s o n l y c o l l e c t i v e l y l i k e t h e d i s c i p l i n e o f h i s t o r y . ; I n t h e y e a r s f o l l o w i n g t h e P r e - R a p h a e l i t e r e b e l l i o n a n d t h e G r e a t E x h i b i t i o n o f 1851, t h e V i c t o r i a n a r t w o r l d m a n a g e d t o b a l a n c e t h e s e f o r c e s . B u t t h e b r e a k d o w n o f t h e m i d - V i c t o r i a n s o l u t i o n s i n t h e f a c e o f m o u n t i n g c r i t i c i s m a n d d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n c a u s e d a r e - e v a l u a t i o n a n d r e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n o f r e l a t i o n s h i p s a n d a r t ' s m e a n i n g a n d r o l e i n s o c i e t y . I n i t s f i r s t b l o o m t h i s n e w a r t c o n s c i o u s n e s s w a s h o p e f u l a n d e n e r g e t i c . B u t a f t e r s e v e r a l y e a r s , w h e n a r t ' s p o s i t i o n i n s o c i e t y w a s n o t f u n d a m e n t a l l y c h a n g e d , a n x i e t y b e c a m e m o r e m a r k e d a n d a n o t h e r 13 c r i s i s a n d r e s o l u t i o n w e r e i m m i n e n t . I n t h e 1890's, t h r e a t e n e d b y t h e g r o w i n g d e m a n d s o f d e m o c r a c y w h i c h w a s o n o n e h a n d u r g i n g r a d i c a l s o c i a l r e f o r m a n d y e t o n t h e o t h e r w a s b u r i e d i n c o n c e r n s o f m a t e r i a l i s m , m a n y V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t s a n d a r t - l o v e r s r e j e c t e d t h e d e m o c r a t i c a l l i a n c e . T h i s s e c o n d r e s o l u t i o n , d e e p e r a n d m o r e f i n a l i n i t s c o n s e q u e n c e s , b r o u g h t a b o u t t h e l a t e r p h a s e o f t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t , t h e " d e c a d e n t n i n e t i e s , " a n d i t m a r k e d t h e e n d o f t h e s t r o n g t r a d i t i o n a l i d e n t i f i - c a t i o n o f a r t a n d h u m a n i s m i n E n g l i s h c u l t u r e . 14 F O O T N O T E S ' O s c a r W i l d e , W o r k s ( L o n d o n , 1908), I, 242. t i l d e ' s A m e r i c a n t o u r o f 1882 i s t h e s u b j e c t o f L l o y d L e w i s ' O s c a r W i l d e D i s c o v e r s A m e r i c a ( N e w Y o r k , 1936). 3 A r t a n d C r i t i c i s m ( N e w Y o r k , 1892), 340. 4 T h e N e w R e p u b l i c , o r C u l t u r e , F a i t h , a n d P h i l o s o p h y i n a n E n g l i s h C o u n t r y H o u s e ( L o n d o n , 1878), 15. F o r B u r n e - J o n e s ' f e e l i n g s a b o u t h i s r o l e i n t h e t r i a l s e e G e o r g i a n a , L a d y B u r n e - J o n e s , M e m o r i a l s o f E d w a r d B u r n e - J o n e s ( N e w Y o r k a n d L o n d o n , 1904)J I L 87. W . M . R o s s e t t i d e s c r i b e d h i s p o s i t i o n i n h i s S o m e R e m i n i s c e n c e s o f W i l l i a m M i c h a e l R o s s e t t i ( L o n d o n , 1906), I, 182-3. 6 ' T h i s i s t h e v e r s i o n g i v e n i n S t a n l e y W e i n t r a u b , W h i s t l e r : A B i o g r a p h y ( N e w Y o r k , 1974)> 199- T h e P e n n e l l s , h o w e v e r , m e n t i o n l e t t e r s b y E d w a r d P o y n t e r , t h e n D i r e c t o r o f t h e S o u t h K e n s i n g t o n M u s e u m , a n d B u r t o n , t h e D i r e c t o r o f t h e N a t i o n a l G a l l e r y , a s w e l l a s b y L e i g h t o n , w h i c h c o n t a i n e d p r a i s e f o r W h i s t l e r ' s w o r k , s e e E . R . a n d J . P e n n e l l , T h e L i f e o f J a m e s M c N e i l l W h i s t l e r ( L o n d o n , 1925), 178-9. M r s . R u s s e l l B a r r i n g t o n , T h e L i f e , L e t t e r s a n d W o r k o f F r e d e r i c L e i g h t o n ( N e w Y o r k , 1906), 2 v o l s , m e n t i o n s n e i t h e r , b u t h e r b i o g r a p h y h a s m a n y g a p s a n d i s n o t e n t i r e l y t r u s t w o r t h y . T h e i n P e n n e l l s ' v e r s i o n i s t h e m o r e l i k e l y o f t h e t w o , f o r L e i g h t o n c e r t a i n l y a d m i r e d a s p e c t s o f W h i s t l e r ' s w o r k , b u t i t i s u n l i k e l y t h a t t h a t p a i n f u l l y t a c t f u l m a n w o u l d h a v e r i s k e d a n t a g o n i z i n g h i s n e w c o n s t i t u e n t s i n t h e A c a d e m y b y p u b l i c l y i p r a i s i n g W h i s t l e r ' s w o r k . ^ a n o n . , " T h e W o r k o f C h r i s t o p h e r D r e s s e r , " T h e S t u d i o , X V (1899), 112. g T h e i d e o l o g i c a l p r o b l e m s o f a r t i s t s a n d w r i t e r s w e r e s i m i l a r b u t t h e s o c i a l a n d i n s t i t u t i o n a l f r a m e w o r k i n w h i c h t h e y m o v e d w a s n o t . C o m p a r e G e r a l d i n e P e l l e s , A r t , A r t i s t s a n d S o c i e t y : O r i g i n s o f a M o d e r n D i l e m n a ( E n g l e w o o d C l i f f s , N . J . , 1963) a n d C e s a r G r a n a , M o d e r n i t y a n d i t s D i s c o n t e n t s : ; ' F r e n c h , ; S o c i e t y a n d t h e F r e n c h M a n o f L e t t e r s i n t h e N i n e t e e n t h C e n t u r y ( N e w Y o r k , 19677. 15 The traditional view of the artist in modern society has tended to stress the problem of alienation; by his very nature, the artist is not at home in society. It has become such a common-place that even historians, who are bound to be discriminating as well as disinterested, 1 too often neglect the social role and responsibilities of artists. Part of the reason for this view is that the French artists of the nine- teenth century have become the exempla of modern artists because their art has won the highest critical acclaim. But the Victorian artist was not like his French colleague, nor were the artistic institutions and traditions of the two countries comparable. The Royal Academy especially contributed to the stability of the Victorian art world and its respec- table social position vis-a-vis the political and industrial worlds. As changes in the economic and social world created problems for artists, the Royal Academy managed to maintain stable relationships, artistic tra- ditions and professional ideals which the rest of society respected. Although the Academy did provide artists with an entry into society and social position, i t could not solve problems which brought art and society into opposition, especially those posed by changing market condi- tions. Nor did the cautious policies of the Academy inspire many young and idealistic artists who were well aware of the contradictions between an artist's declared ideals and his social and economic position. Yet these young artists were important in changing artistic styles and in upholding the ideals, both professional and aesthetic, which the Academy endorsed. The Academy was successful in controlling the social aspect of the art world even after i t had lost its educational monopoly in the 1870's through its control of the only major annual exhibition of con- 16 t e m p o r a r y a r t i n E n g l a n d . T h e P r e - R a p h a e l i t e " r e b e l l i o n " w a s o n l y t h e m o s t n o t o r i o u s i n s t a n c e o f t h e s e v e r a l t i m e s w h e n y o u n g a r t i s t s c r e a t e d s e n s a t i o n s b y t h e i r n e w s t y l e s . T h e P r e - R a p h a e l i t e p a i n t e r s e n t e r e d t h e a r t w o r l d a s p r o f e s s i o n a l s b y p a t h s n o t e s s e n t i a l l y d i f f e r e n t f r o m t h o s e w h i c h e a r l i e r a r t i s t s h a d f o l l o w e d . J o h n M i l l a i s w a s q u i c k l y e l e c t e d a n A s s o c i a t e o f t h e R o y a l A c a d e m y w h i l e D . G . R o s s e t t i m a d e a l i v i n g s e l l i n g h i s w o r k s t o a s m a l l c i r c l e o f i n t e r e s t e d p a t r o n s ; d o z e n s o f a r t i s t s a l - 2 r e a d y e n j o y e d s i m i l a r c a r e e r s i n s o c i e t y . T h e A c a d e m y v i e w e d t h e c h a l l e n g e s o f t h e c h a n g i n g c i r c u m s t a n c e s w h i c h c a m e f r o m t h e p o l i t i c a l a s w e l l a s t h e s o c i a l a n d e c o n o m i c s p h e r e s a s a s s a u l t s o n t h e i n d e p e n d e n c e o f t h e A c a d e m y . T h e i r r e s p o n s e w a s t o s a f e g u a r d t h e i r u n i q u e p o s i t i o n a s a s e l f - s u p p o r t i n g p r i v a t e c o r p o r a t i o n u n d e r t h e C r o w n ' s p a t r o n a g e . T h e i r a n n u a l e x h i b i t i o n p r o d u c e d a s u r p l u s o f f u n d s , t h e i r m e t h o d o f e l e c t i o n a s s u r e d t h e m o f f r e e d o m f r o m o u t s i d e p r e s s u r e s a n d t h e i r p a t r o n h e l p e d t h e m r e s i s t t h e a t t e m p t s o f P a r l i a m e n t t o c o n t r o l t h e A c a d e m y . Y e t t h i s s t r u g g l e w a s o n l y o n e a s p e c t o f t h e e f f e c t s o f n e w c o n d i t i o n s o n t h e V i c t o r i a n a r t w o r l d . T h e A c a d e m y m a i n - t a i n e d i t s i n d e p e n d e n c e b u t a l s o a d a p t e d t o t h e n e w c o n d i t i o n s a n d c o m - p r o m i s e d w i t h c e r t a i n i r r e s i s t i b l e p r e s s u r e s . T h e b u y i n g a n d s e l l i n g o f c o n t e m p o r a r y a r t w o r k s c r e a t e d a n a r t m a r k e t w h i c h o p e r a t e d o n p r i n c i p l e s e n t i r e l y a l i e n t o t h o s e w h i c h a r t i s t s b e l i e v e d d e t e r m i n e d t h e m e r i t o f a r t i s t i c w o r k s . A n d t h e w i d e s p r e a d i n t e r e s t o f t h e r i s i n g i n d u s t r i a l i s t s i n c o n t e m p o r a r y a r t h e l p e d t o c r e a t e a n e w t a s t e i n a r t a s t h e y p r e f e r r e d d i f f e r e n t s u b j e c t s f r o m t h o s e w h i c h t h e a r i s t o c r a t i c p a t r o n u s u a l l y c o m - m i s s i o n e d . S o s t y l e s a n d a t t i t u d e s c h a n g e d a n d t h e A c a d e m y s o u g h t t o c o n - t a i n t h e m w i t h i n a n i n s t i t u t i o n a l f r a m e w o r k w h i c h w a s s o c i a l l y r e s p e c t a b l e . 17 T h e R o y a l A c a d e m y w a s a n e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r y i n s t i t u t i o n a n d w a s t h e r e s u l t o f t h e n e e d f e l t b y a r t i s t s a n d a r t l o v e r s f o r a n i n s t i t u t i o n d e d i c a t e d t o t h e p r o t e c t i o n a n d p r o m o t i o n o f t h e a r t s i n G r e a t B r i t a i n . I n 1755 a s c h e m e f o r a n a t i o n a l a c a d e m y h a d b e e n p r o p o s e d w h i c h i n c l u d e d p l a n s f o r ! ! a " y e a r l y e x h i b i t i o n o f p i c t u r e s , s t a t u e s a n d m o d e l s , a n d d e - s i g n s i n a r c h i t e c t u r e " a s w e l l a s a n a t i o n a l a r t s c h o o l . " ^ T h i s s c h e m e c a m e t o n o t h i n g b e c a u s e a r t i s t s a n d t h e i r a r i s t o c r a t i c p a t r o n s w h o w e r e t o f o r m t h e a c a d e m y c o u l d n o t a g r e e o n t h e r e l a t i v e p o w e r s o f a r t i s t s a n d l a y m e n w i t h i n t h e p r o p o s e d i n s t i t u t i o n . A s a r e s u l t o f t h i s f a i l u r e , a r t i s t s l o o k e d e l s e w h e r e f o r p a t r o n a g e a n d e n d e a v o r e d t o c o n s t r u c t a n A c a d e m y w h i c h t h e y a l o n e c o n t r o l l e d . T h e a n n u a l e x h i b i t i o n a n d t h e n a - t i o n a l s c h o o l , h o w e v e r , w e r e t h e a c k n o w l e d g e d f u n c t i o n s o f a n a t i o n a l a c a d e m y . T h e e x h i b i t i o n s w e r e t o h a v e t w o m a j o r f u n c t i o n s . T h e y w e r e t h e o n l y d i r e c t m e a n s t h e a c a d e m y h a d o f r a i s i n g m o n e y , a n i m p o r t a n t c o n s i d e r a - t i o n i n m a i n t a i n i n g t h e i n d e p e n d e n c e o f t h e i n s t i t u t i o n a n d i t s s c h o o l . A n d e x h i b i t i o n s p r o v i d e d a s u i t a b l e m e a n s o f " p u b l i s h i n g " w o r k s o f a r t . A r t i s t s w e r e s t i l l i n v o l v e d i n a s y s t e m o f p a t r o n a g e w h i c h o b l i g e d t h e m t o s o l i c i t c o m m i s s i o n s f r o m t h e w e a l t h y a n d g r a c i o u s l y t o a c c e p t t h e g r a - t u i t o u s g e n e r o s i t y o f p a t r o n s . A n a n n u a l e x h i b i t i o n s p o n s o r e d b y a p r e s - t i g i o u s a c a d e m y h a d t h e d r a m a t i c e f f e c t o f r e q u i r i n g t h e w e a l t h y t o s e e k o u t t h e a r t i s t s ' w o r k s a n d t o p a y a f e e t o s e e t h e m . I t h a r d l y d e s t r o y e d t h e s y s t e m o f p a t r o n a g e y e t i t d i d d e m o n s t r a t e t h e r i s i n g p o s i t i o n o f t h e a r t i s t i n r e l a t i o n t o h i s a r i s t o c r a t i c p a t r o n s . W h e n a g r o u p o f a r t i s t s g a t h e r e d i n N o v e m b e r 1768 t o f o u n d a n a c a - d e m y t h e y h a d r e s o l v e d t o e x c l u d e l a y m e n f r o m t h e i n s t i t u t i o n . T h e y l o o k e d 18 to the King-to provide the prestige which they required and a suitably unquestioning patronage. On 28 November 1768 these artists sent a Mem- orial to King George III stating their main objectives We only beg leave to inform your Majesty, that the two principle obects we have in view are, the establishirsg of a well-regulated School or Academy of Design, for use of students in the Arts, and an annual exhibition, open to a l l artists of distinguished merit, where they may offer their performances to public inspection, and acquire that degree of reputation and encouragement which they shall be deemed to deserve. The King signed the Instrument of Foundation of the Royal Academy of Arts on 10 December 1768 and promised his f u l l support to the institution, even to the extent of making the Privy Purse responsible for financial deficits. For the first eleven years the Academy required this financial support but the exhibitions soon drew in a l l the funds necessary. The Instrument of Foundation provided for forty members who would be Royal Academicians and who would elect the President and other officers together in an assembly. The assembly also decided questions of policy and chose new members to f i l l vacancies from the ranks of Associates of the Royal Academy. The Associates were elected by the Academicians from the multitude of artists who had exhibited in the annual exhibition. These Associates had no voting privileges and were not assured of eventual election to f u l l membership but they did enjoy the preference of the hanging committee of the exhibitions and only from among their number were f u l l members chosen. The Academy began with less than forty members but vacancies were soon f i l l e d and the number of Associates grew to around twenty. The first President was Joshua Reynolds, who was knighted by the King, and he was re-elected President every year until his death in 1792. Reynolds handled much of the administrative duties pertaining to 19 the Academy's activities and obligations but the Instrument provided |for a Council of eight members who were appointed by rotation from the f u l l l i s t of members. The hanging committee responsible for the selec- tion and hanging of the annual exhibition was usually chosen out of the Council and perhaps for this reason, the rotating membership on the Coun- c i l appears to have been a jealously guarded privilege. Besides the President and Council, other members acted in the offices of Librarian, Secretary and Keeper of the Academy schools. To f u l f i l l their objective of maintaining a tuition-free school, the Academy set aside rooms, began to acquire plaster casts from the , antique and appointed an Academician to act as Keeper and to oversee the administration of the schools. The schools were organized so that Academicians visited for one month each, instructing the students as they wished that students might benefit from the various excellences of a l l Academicians. There were also permanent Professors of Painting, Perspective, Architecture, Sculpture, Anatomy and other aspects of art studies. But these Professorships were not always f i l l e d and wheraathey were, the Professor did not always f u l f i l l his duties. Some Academicians, such as J. M. W. Turner, the great landscape artist who was Professor of Perspective from 1807 to 1837 were assiduous in their Professorships. But one Professor of Painting in the late eighteenth century, James Barry, actually used the office to attack the Academy and Academicians and be- came for his efforts the only member to be expelled from the Academy.^ The students received their education free but no scholarships were awarded for study in London and studying art was time-consuming. It was not a pursuit for the poor nor was i t popular with the wealthy who studied 20 art only to be an amateur. A probationer at the Academy schools was required to be more than an amateur. Academicians selected students by judging drawings made by aspirants. Once this preliminary drawing was approved, the prospective student made a drawing from a cast under the supervision of the Keeper and i f this was approved, the applicant entered the schools as a probationer. Art students today would be sur- prised and probably horrified by the rigorous curriculum of the Academy's schools. There were few changes in procedure until the beginning of the twentieth century and the entire course of study was based on the ac- quisition of skillful and painstaking draughtsmanship. The student began drawing from antique casts, often spending weeks on a single drawing, months i f the cast was intricate. When students had attained a degree of s k i l l in the antique, they were allowed to enter the life school and to draw from the live model. There did exist at various times schools for architecture and sculpture though o i l painting was the art which was consistently taught. Students generally took six to seven years to com- plete their studies, learning new skills slowly but thoroughly, and when they left the schools, many of them had already attempted exhibition 7 pieces. The school was very successful in training artists i f we judge by the number of famous Victorian artists who spent time in the schools. But there were difficulties within the organization of the schools. The Keeper and visiting professors often clashed over whose authority was greater, the conflict arising out of the question of who was to set the model. A related problem was in getting the visiting professors to work with the Keeper in maintaining consistently high standards of .2.1. w o r k o r e v e n a c o n s i s t e n t p r o g r a m o f s t u d y . T h i s w a s a c o n t i n u a l l y r e - c u r r i n g p r o b l e m a n d b y t h e e a r l y V i c t o r i a n p e r i o d t h e s c h o o l s h a d f a l l e n Q i n t o a l a m e n t a b l e s t a t e . T h e r e w e r e f e w a l t e r n a t i v e s t o t h e A c a d e m y ' s s c h o o l s h o w e v e r , a n d w h e n t h e F r e n c h a t e l i e r s a n d t h e N a t i o n a l A r t T r a i n i n g S c h o o l a t S o u t h K e n s i n g t o n c o m p e t e d f o r s t u d e n t s i n t h e 1 8 5 0 ' s , t h e A c a - d e m y h a d b e g u n t o r e f o r m . T h e f a m o u s V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t w h o h a d n e v e r 9 s t u d i e d a t t h e A c a d e m y w a s a n e x c e p t i o n a l f i g u r e . T h e A c a d e m y ' s s e c o n d o b j e c t i v e w a s t h e e s t a b l i s h m e n t o f a n a n n u a l e x h i b i t i o n o f p a i n t i n g s , s c u l p t u r e a n d a r c h i t e c t u r a l m o d e l s a n d p l a n s . T h e o n e s h i l l i n g a d m i s s i o n t o t h i s e x h i b i t i o n p r o v i d e d t h e f u n d s f o r t h e s c h o o l s a n d f o r t h e c h a r i t i e s d e v o t e d t o a r t i s t s a n d t h e i r f a m i l i e s . K i n g G e o r g e I I I p r o v i d e d h i s A c a d e m y w i t h r o o m s a t S o m e r s e t H o u s e a n d t h e A c a d e m y t o o k u p t h e c h a l l e n g e o f o r g a n i z i n g y e a r l y e x h i b i t i o n s w h i c h w o u l d r e a p s u b s t a n t i a l p r o f i t s . T h e y a d v e r t i s e d f o r s u b m i s s i o n s a n d m a d e s e v e r a l r u l e s g o v e r n i n g t h e e x h i b i t i o n t h e m o s t i m p o r t a n t b e i n g t h a t s u b - m i t t e d w o r k s h a d t o b e f r a m e d , o r i g i n a l w o r k s ( e x c e p t i n g , o f c o u r s e , s c u l p t u r e a n d a r c h i t e c t u r a l m o d e l s ) r e c e i v e d b y a c e r t a i n d a t e a n d t h e A c a d e m y C o u n c i l h a d t h e o n l y s a y i n t h e s e l e c t i o n a n d a r r a n g e m e n t o f t h e e x h i b i t i o n . F r o m i t s e a r l i e s t y e a r s t h e A c a d e m y h a d p r o b l e m s w i t h i t s e x h i b i t i o n p o l i c i e s . A l t h o u g h A c a d e m i c i a n s w e r e g i v e n p r e f e r e n c e o v e r o t h e r a r t i s t s b y t h e h a n g i n g c o m m i t t e e , t h e l i m i t e d w a l l s p a c e m a d e i t i m p o s s i b l e t o h a n g e v e r y p i c t u r e i n t h e m o s t f a v o r a b l e l i g h t a n d o u t s i d e r s w e r e n o t t h e o n l y d i s g r u n t l e d e x h i b i t o r s . T h e p a i n t i n g s o f t h e l a t e e i g h t e e n t h c e n t u r y w e r e l a r g e e n o u g h t o s u r v i v e t h e w o r s t c o n s e q u e n c e s o f t h e l i m i t e d s p a c e i f w e c a n j u d g e f r o m a c o n t e m p o r a r y e n g r a v i n g , a n d t h e h a n g i n g c o m m i t t e e g e n e r a l l y t r i e d t o a r r a n g e f o r e v e r y p i c t u r e t o b e 22 s e e n . [ F i g u r e B u t e v e n i f a p a i n t i n g w e r e h u n g o n t h e l i n e , t h e c o v e t e d w a l l s p a c e a t s i x t o e i g h t f e e t a b o v e t h e f l o o r r o u g h l y a t e y e - l e v e l , s u b j e c t a n d c o l o r c o u l d b e r u i n e d b y t o o c l o s e a n a s s o c i a t i o n w i t h a n u n c o m p l e m e n t a r y c a n v a s . A r t i s t s w e r e n a t u r a l l y a n x i o u s t h a t t h e i r w o r k s s h o u l d b e s e e n t o t h e i r b e s t a d v a n t a g e a n d e n v i o u s r i v a l r i e s , m a r k e d m o s t e x h i b i t i o n s . A l t h o u g h t h e C o u n c i l w a s r e s p o n s i b l e f o r t h e h a n g i n g o f t h e e x h i b i t i o n , a c o m m i t t e e o f t h r e e A c a d e m i c i a n s a c t u a l l y c h o s e a n d h u n g t h e e n t i r e e x h i b i t . T h e m e m b e r s h i p o f t h i s h a n g i n g c o m - m i t t e e w a s p e r i o d i c a l l y e x p a n d e d d u r i n g t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y a s m e m b e r s a n d o u t s i d e r s e x p r e s s e d c o n c e r n a s t o t h e p o s s i b i l i t y o f i n j u s t i c e s a r i s i n g f r o m t h e d i f f i c u l t i e s a n d i m m e n s i t y o f t h e t a s k . I n 1876 C h a r l e s W e s t C o p e p o r t r a y e d t h e e n t i r e C o u n c i l c h o o s i n g t h e w o r k s b u t s u c h a r e p r e s e n t a t i o n w a s p u r e l y a f o r m . [ F i g u r e 2] T h e l a r g e s t h a n g i n g c o m - m i t t e e s i n t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y h a d s e v e n m e m b e r s o f f i c i a l l y a l t h o u g h 10 f o u r o r f i v e m i g h t d o m o s t o f t h e w o r k . T h e A c a d e m y m a d e i t s b i t t e r e s t e n e m i e s o v e r t h e q u e s t i o n o f w h e r e p i c t u r e s w e r e h u n g . J a m e s B a r r y , t h e o n l y A c a d e m i c i a n t o b e e x p e l l e d f r o m t h e A c a d e m y , h a d t r i e d u n - s u c c e s s f u l l y t o r e f o r m h a n g i n g p o l i c i e s a n d B e n j a m i n R o b e r t H a y d o n , t h e m o s t n o t o r i o u s e n e m y o f t h e R o y a l A c a d e m y , n e v e r f o r g a v e t h e c o m m i t t e e o f 1811 f o r h a n g i n g h i s D e n t a t u s i n t h e a n t e - r o o m r a t h e r t h a n i n t h e m a i n g a l l e r y . B e c a u s e o f t h e c r a m p e d q u a r t e r s a n d t h e g r e a t n u m b e r o f w o r k s s u b m i t t e d e a c h y e a r , t h e A c a d e m y c o n t i n u e d t o c r o w d p a i n t i n g s o v e r e v e r y a v a i l a b l e i n c h o f s p a c e . T h e A c a d e m y ' s m o v e s t o T r a f a l g a r S q u a r e a n d B u r l i n g t o n H o u s e p r o v i d e d m o r e r o o m f o r t h e e x h i b i t i o n s b u t t h e n u m b e r o f w o r k s s u b m i t t e d i n c r e a s e d f a r m o r e r a p i d l y t h a n d i d t h e 23 25 available space. The worst hanging practices, especially that of "skying works or placing them right up against the ceiling, were discontinued in the 1870's and W. P. Frith's Private View at the Royal Academy, 1882 portrayed the reformed exhibition. [Figure 3] These exhibition practices were of great importance to artists because they concerned the publication of their works and reputations. As early as the first Royal Academy exhibition, one of the purposes of the show was to sell paintings and the catalogue duly marked with an 1 2 asterisk those pictures which the artists wished to s e l l . The Academy exhibitions were a marketplace for contemporary art but not an efficient one. Only artists could submit works, which had to be new to the public eye, and the auction block at Christie's was so obviously more suitable for disposing of pictures that the Academy never became markedly commercial. Their exhibitions strove above a l l to present the best examples of English contemporary art, to provide an arena for establishing a young artist's reputation and to provide examples of the different phases of English artistic l i f e . It would have been most unusual i f the Academy had not met with opposition and criticism in pursuing these ends. The only serious challenge to the Academy's position came in the 1830's when the Academy moved from its crowded rooms in Somerset House to quarters in the new National Gallery in Trafalgar Square. The Aca- demy was a private corporation, although i t enjoyed the patronage of the Crown, but i t occupied or at least was going to occupy what was undoubtedly a public building being built at public expense. And the Academy enjoyed an artistic monopoly of a kind and its tremendous in- 27 fluence over the E n g l i s h a r t world through i t s school and e x h i b i t i o n s aroused suspicious h o s t i l i t y i n government. The problems were brought out by testimony given to a Parliamentary commission which sat from 13 1835 to 1836. The evidence c l e a r l y showed that two d i f f e r e n t p a r t i e s joined forces to attack the Academy before t h i s committee. The f i r s t was the group of outsider a r t i s t s led by Benjamin Haydon who f e l t that the Academy used i t s power to f u r t h e r the careers of i t s members at the expense of true a r t . The second group was the r a d i c a l p o l i t i c i a n s who wished to see the Academy submit to public authority. These groups a l l i e d over the c r i t i c i s m of the administration of the Royal Academy which they both f e l t , f o r d i f f e r e n t reasons, ought to be regulated by government authority. The Academy f i n a l l y p r e v a i l e d i n t h i s prolonged c r i s i s with i t s organization and independence i n t a c t and moved to the new quarters i n T r a f a l g a r Square. Although the p o l i t i c i a n s and outsider a r t i s t s never repeated t h e i r strong a l l i a n c e i n the nineteenth century, the scathing c r i t i c i s m had exposed the weaknesses of the Academy and attacks from both quarters continued u n t i l the move to Burlington House i n 1868 brought about a r e s o l u t i o n of thos ambiguous relations-between Parliament and the Academy. These a c t i v i t i e s and controversies suggest the v i t a l i t y and impor- tance of Academic influence and some of the conditions with which a r t i s t s and a r t - l o v e r s had to cope. The Academy regulated the V i c t o r i a n a r t world by imposing a steady, almost inexorable rhythm on the a r t i s t i c l i f e of the period through i t s e x h i b i t i o n s and by i t s c r e a t i o n and maintenance of an a r t i s t i c cursus honorum through i t s schools and be- stowal of membership. To be a successful V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t , a man had 28 f i r s t to obtain an education and second to obtain admission into the Academy, or at l e a s t into the e x h i b i t i o n rooms each year. Art, e s p e c i a l l y painting, was a career that required years of t r a i n i n g under accomplished masters. The Academy provided such t r a i n i n g but a student had to be p r o f i c i e n t i n c e r t a i n s k i l l s i n order to gain admission to the school. The a s p i r i n g student had to begin elsewhere. Por those who could a f f o r d them, private drawing masters were the be- 14 ginning. He could teach fundamentals but usually very l i t t l e more as he was one of the recognized f a i l u r e s of the a r t world. There were a few drawing schools and they d i d prepare students f o r Academic studies but they were few and the number of students e n r o l l e d i n them must have been quite small. W. P. F r i t h and John M i l l a i s studied at Mr. Sass' 1 "5 drawing school i n London, a reputable private school. There were a l s o p r o v i n c i a l and municipal schools such as the Norwich Academy, founded i n 1805, and a f t e r the establishment of the Schools of Design under the aegis of the Board of Trade, these schools u n i n t e n t i o n a l l y t r a i n e d s t u - 16 dents i n the f i n e a r t s . E s t a b l i s h e d a r t i s t s d i d occasionally take on i n d i v i d u a l students as w e l l . George F. Watts learned from William Behnes; Charles Eastlake studied with Benjamin Haydon; and D. G. Rossetti studied f o r awhile with Ford Madox Brown. These r e l a t i o n s h i p s were not formally arranged and were thus hardly comparable with the a t e l i e r sys- tem i n France. Por various reasons schools d i d not form around a r t i s t s i n V i c t o r i a n England, even a f t e r the French a t e l i e r system was recog- nized as a f e a s i b l e model. A r t teachers were t r a d i t i o n a l l y at the lowest rank, s o c i a l l y and a r t i s t i c a l l y , i n the a r t world; they taught because they could not support themselves by the sale of t h e i r works. An established 29 a r t i s t might i n s t r u c t a d i s c i p l e f o r the sake of a r t but accepting remuneration f o r such work had disagreeable s o c i a l and economic im- p l i c a t i o n s , above a l l the f a i l u r e to receive money f o r one's own a r t works. Even i f an a r t i s t ignored these p a r t i c u l a r consequences of founding a school, there were reasons that were as discouraging. There was the immense time and e f f o r t required to teach students and to see to the administration of an educational establishment and therejj)was the f a c t that a school which competed with the Academy at i t s own l e v e l was bound to excite h o s t i l i t y i n that quarter. Every V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t was aware, however, that England had de- f i c i e n c i e s which made i t desirable f o r an a r t student to study on the continent, or at least to make an a r t i s t i c pilgrimage there. The Aca- demy occasionally awarded t r a v e l l i n g scholarships to i t s exceptional students f o r study i n I t a l y although there was no formal E n g l i s h school i n I t a l y . I t was the a r t i s t i c heritage and t r a d i t i o n s of that country which a t t r a c t e d students and the sunny climate with i t s e f f e c t s of l i g h t so a l i e n to the E n g l i s h climate. J . M. W. Turner and David Wilkie had been charmed by I t a l y and so too were Charles Eastlake, G. P. Watts and Frederic Leighton. But I t a l y was not the only magnet on the continent. Leighton a l s o studied i n Germany and John P h i l l i p , a contemporary of W. P. F r i t h , l i v e d f o r awhile i n Spain. But as the century progressed i t was France that drew a r t students from England to the continent. Frederic Leighton who had ample opportunity to make comparisons per- ceived that France offered what no other continental country d i d — 17 emulation of l i v i n g a r t i s t s . By the late 1850's France had become a convenient and an a l l u r i n g place to continue a r t studies and Edward 30 Poynter, Thomas Armstrong, James Whistler and George Du Maurier studied 18 together i n Gleyre's a t e l i e r at that time. The E n g l i s h a r t student thus had several opportunities open to him but i n pursuing these, he was guided by a d e f i n i t e idea of what was required f o r success. And perhaps more than anything else, he r e - quired an i n d i v i d u a l i t y of s t y l e . This was necessary to d i s t i n g u i s h h i s works at exhibitions and to e s t a b l i s h h i s reputation. Works of a r t were unique and t h e r e i n lay t h e i r tremendous value and appeal. They could never be mass-produced. Along with the conventions of ac- curate draughtsmanship and perspective, correct l i g h t i n g , and appealing subject matter, i n d i v i d u a l i t y was a necessary q u a l i t y of a r t f o r the mid-Victorians. I t pressed so on Frederic Leighton that when he doubted h i s o r i g i n a l i t y as a student, he succumbed to a p a r a l y s i s of h i s crea- t i v e powers. For some time I have scarcely composed at a l l ; p a r t l y , i t i s true, because I have no time, but p a r t l y also because I do not f e e l myself i n a p o s i t i o n to embody an idea properly. I know that such a s i t u a t i o n i s morbid, and I hope to e x t r i c a t e myself from i t i n time. I t a r i s e s a l s o p a r t l y from the f a c t that my i n d i v i d u a l i t y i s not yet s u f f i c i e n t l y developed...^ The emphasis on i n d i v i d u a l i t y i n a r t probably contributed to the appeal of various educational opportunities and the almost r e s t l e s s search f o r a r t i s t i c i n s p i r a t i o n which characterized many V i c t o r i a n - a r t i s t s . However, despite differences i n t r a i n i n g and i n a r t i s t i c s t y l e , when the a r t student was ready to become the a r t i s t and to make of h i s genius a l i v e l i h o o d , then he looked to the Royal Academy's annual ex- h i b i t i o n to e s t a b l i s h h i s reputation. John M i l l a i s and Holman Hunt, W. P. F r i t h and John P h i l l i p , Frederic Leighton and Edward Poynter, and 31 James Whistler not the l e s s a l l submitted works to the Academy f o r t h e i r summer e x h i b i t i o n . Even D. G. Rossetti painted an e x h i b i t i o n piece e n t i t l e d The Girlhood of the V i r g i n Mary which, although i t d i d not hang i n the Academy's e x h i b i t i o n hung i n the "Free E x h i b i t i o n " which 20 was sponsored by a small London g a l l e r y . M i l l a i s , F r i t h , P h i l l i p and Leighton soon obtained that e l e c t i o n to Academic ranks which was the mark of p r o f e s s i o n a l success*. Holman Hunt and others, i n c l u d i n g G. F. Watts and' D. G. Rossetti, found buyers f o r t h e i r works and were able to l i v e more or l e s s comfortably. But the sale of paintings depended upon t h e i r proper p u b l i c a t i o n and p u b l i c e x h i b i t i o n was a f a c t of almost 21 every a r t i s t ' s l i f e . Besides the Royal Academy e x h i b i t i o n there were other places to publish paintings. The B r i t i s h I n s t i t u t i o n , founded i n 1805, provided a place to e x h i b i t and s e l l works although p o r t r a i t s were excluded. A group of private subscribers provided the necessary c a p i t a l to found the I n s t i t u t i o n and they decided what works would be hung and how they would 22 be arranged. There were various organizations i n London which spon- sored e x h i b i t i o n s such as the Society of Painters i n Water-Colour and the Hogarth Club, but t h e i r memberships were small and none could draw public i n t e r e s t as d i d the Academy. Besides these e x h i b i t i o n s there were small g a l l e r i e s which held shows such as the one i n which the "Free 23 E x h i b i t i o n " was held i n 1849 and 1850. The few p r o v i n c i a l e x h i b i t i o n s included the important annual show of the Liverpool Academy. These e x h i - b i t i o n s however only supplemented the Academy's annual show i n that they provided a wider sphere for. the p u b l i c a t i o n of contemporary a r t , but none r i v a l e d the Academy and only the Academy could bestow the honor and p r i - 32 vileges of Academic membership. Membership did not ensure an a r t i s t of profitable sales but i t did at least guarantee that the hanging committee 24 would always be friendly. If an a r t i s t was unsuccessful i n gaining admission to the Academy, he could s t i l l make a comfortable l i v i n g through the sale of his works. There were many places to exhibit and even with limited publication of their work, many a r t i s t s found sufficient buyers to support them. G. P. Watts, D. G. Rossetti, Ford Madox Brown and Edward Burne-Jones were a l l able to live from the sale of their works although they seldom 25 or never exhibited at the Academy. y But these men were able to establish a reputation based on their works and the c r i t i c a l approval of such men as John Ruskin and W. M. Rossetti. Artists whom fame and fortune eluded could turn to portraiture which, despite the rise of photographic studios, was profitable work and relatively easy to obtain. Men who otherwise never bought paintings would commission portraits of -fchemselves or of members of their families. For the able draughtsman i t was re- latively easy work and the earliest commissions given to Leighton, 26 Millais and Watts were for portraits. While they were s t i l l students these commissions brought them between,-£10 and £25 out established a r t i s t s could earn several hundred pounds i n the 1860's. Artists could also earn money copying other works. Picture owners often wished works to be copied for various reasons and Leighton usually recommended a young 27 a r t i s t friend to his patrons for copying jobs. Pay for this was small but i t was a way into the world of important buyers and collectors as they generally commissioned copies. Early i n his career G. F. Watts copied a painting for Constantine Ionides for -£10 and Ionides startled 33 28 an acquaintance by p r e f e r r i n g Watts' copy to the o r i g i n a l . Besides p o r t r a i t u r e and copying, an a r t i s t could teach the f i n e a r t s , p r i v a t e l y or i n an a r t school. The private drawing master was a member of many wealthy households although h i s subservient p o s i t i o n was hardly an enviable one. The a r t teacher i n h i s own school was more happily placed but i t never gave fortune or fame. Mr. Sass, the e a r l y teacher of both M i l l a i s and F r i t h , d i d e x h i b i t each year though not at 29 the Academy and was y e a r l y rebuked by the c r i t i c s . A f t e r the Schools of Design were established i n England, they required q u a l i f i e d i n s t r u c - tors and as the cause was no l e s s than the fate of a r t i n B r i t a i n , some Academicians i n c l u d i n g Richard Redgrave and William Dyce joined the Schools' administration. The teachers i n these schools were respectable but except f o r the Academicians they were not successful a r t i s t s . Under Henry Cole's management i n the 1850's, the Schools were transferred to the new Department of Education and began to t r a i n students as a r t teachers f o r general schools as well as a r t schools. But the r i s i n g prestige of a r t i s t and educator during the l a s t h a l f of the nineteenth century d i d tend to r a i s e the status of a r t teachers. The Slade School of A r t at the U n i v e r s i t y of London enjoyed two h i g h l y respected pro- fessors i n i t s e a r l y years, Edward Poynter, l a t e r a President of the Royal Academy,--and Alphonse Legros. They were admired f o r t h e i r teaching methods as well as f o r t h e i r own a r t i s t i c s k i l l . ^ A r t i s t s could a l s o enter the f i e l d of i l l u s t r a t i o n and engraving. This f i e l d , too, had i t s luminaries and drudges but engravers engaged i n such d i f f i c u l t techniques as s t e e l - l i n e engraving or mezzotint had to be c a r e f u l l y t r a i n e d . I l l u s t r a t o r s u s u a l l y drew work on blocks which 34- were then engraved by other hands. The t r a i n i n g of engravers was a long and rigorous undertaking. Engravers were craftsmen and learned t h e i r trade through apprenticeships with established engravers. I l l u s t r a - tors were draughtsmen, u s u a l l y t r a i n e d as painters were t r a i n e d and the a c t u a l c u t t i n g of blocks was done by an engraver. George Du Maurier, Charles Keene and John Tenniel as Punch i l l u s t r a t o r s and Samuel Cousins and the D a z i e l brothers as engravers were among the luminaries i n the f i e l d and they enjoyed considerable f i n a n c i a l success and s o c i a l pres- t i g e . Cousins was the f i r s t engraver to be e l e c t e d Royal Academician i n 1854. But below.these heights were numberless drudges t o i l i n g at the i l l u s t r a t i o n s which appeared i n p e r i o d i c a l s , advertisements, pamph- l e t s , and a l l the printed i l l u s t r a t i o n s of the period. I t was considered one of the few respectable occupations f o r an unmarried woman who r e - quired to support h e r s e l f and the government School of Design t r i e d to 31 provide t r a i n i n g f o r these l a d i e s . The economics of a r t were diverse, complicated and recognized great d i s t i n c t i o n s between kinds and q u a l i t y of work. Tremendous sums were r e g u l a r l y paid by wealthy c o l l e c t o r s f o r o i l paintings by Academi- cians and just as regularly, businesses paid small amounts to i l l u s t r a - tors and engravers f o r advertisement a r t . The r e l a t i o n s h i p between a r t i s t and buyer, however, cannot be c l e a r l y understood merely by de- f i n i n g the "cash nexus", but that connection was undoubtedly an impor- tant one e s p e c i a l l y among the a r t netherworld. Patronage no longer formed an i d e a l r e l a t i o n s h i p f o r the emulation of a r t i s t s and buyers; the Royal Academy had done much to free a r t i s t s from that kind of r e - l a t i o n s h i p i n which they were subservient to wealth. But because works 3 5 of a r t represented "certain ideas concretely, i n c l u d i n g culture i t s e l f , these ideas constantly intruded i n t o market transactions and i n t e r f e r e d with the motivations and prudence of buyers. By the 1860's the a r t market r e f l e c t e d a changed conception of a r t i s t i c worth i n an exaggerated 32 i n f l a t i o n of p r i c e s paid f o r contemporary works. Superior workman- ship and p r o f e s s i o n a l s k i l l no longer adequately defined the merits of these works; genius was being bought and sold and the man who could a f f o r d i t possessed more than a b e a u t i f u l painting when he owned a M i l l a i s , Rossetti or Whistler. Paintings, more than music or l i t e r a - ture, were the concrete a c t u a l i t y not merely the symbol of c u l t u r e . They were f o r many the only contact which remained to them i n modern society with a l l the a e s t h e t i c experience and s p i r i t u a l humanism which seemed so abundant i n h i s t o r i c a l l i f e . Only music and l i t e r a t u r e pro- vided a s i m i l a r experience—-a dreamlike v i s i o n of a c t u a l l i f e conforming to some h e a r t f e l t sense of the world's order. A r t was a dream but a dream which sprang up from a longing to r e a l i z e what ought to be."^ The more p e r f e c t l y the painted image cor- responded to the sentimental image i n the viewer's mind, the more pre- cious the a r t . The V i c t o r i a n s looked at the world with t h e i r heads and hearts as well as with t h e i r eyes and thus the conventions of v e r i s i m i l i - tude i n perspective, l i g h t i n g and representation were necessary to them. O i l and water-colors were the most valuable a r t works because the most capable of embodying the images of r e a l i t y and these a r t i s t s were the " a r i s t o c r a t s " of the a r t world. Engravings, t h e i r value d i l u t e d by the f a c t that they were images of images, were yet p r i z e d f o r t h e i r meticulous workmanship i n reproducing popular paintings and engravers 36 formed a s o l i d "middle c l a s s " i n the a r t hierarchy. They were excluded from the Royal Academy u n t i l 1854 and then were admitted r e l u c t a n t l y . Yet they catered to a huge market and reaped large p r o f i t s from i t . The netherworld of a r t teemed with the industry of drones whose work was worth very l i t t l e , a e s t h e t i c a l l y or f i n a n c i a l l y , but who g r a t i f i e d the V i c t o r i a n love of images. This hierarchy was based on the s k i l l of the a r t i s t , h i s a b i l i t y to embody the dream of r e a l i t y i n h i s work, not on any s o c i a l or economic circumstances. D i s t i n c t i o n s between a r t i s t s and works r e l a t e d d i r e c t l y to the idea of a r t and the things which a r t stood f o r and t h i s a f f e c t e d the a r t market as much as d i d speculation and investment i n a r t works. So the a r t market fed on the ideas of culture which works of a r t embodied and on the commodity i t s e l f . A l l the d i v e r s i t y and i n d i v i d u a l i t y which so marked the a r t world of the 1840's through the 1860's was more r e a l than apparent. The amazing complexity of the a r t w o r l d — i t s s p i r i t u a l and economic tensions, i t s unresolved c o n f l i c t s and jealous hatreds, i t s tenuous r e l a t i o n s h i p to r e a l i t y — a l l t h i s was submerged i n a coherent s t y l e of expression. Commenting on the B r i t i s h pictures at the Paris E x h i b i t i o n i n 1855, Anton Springer remarked: The circumstances of E n g l i s h A r t o f f e r a p e c u l i a r spectacle. Much o r i g i n a l i t y , and yet a p a i n f u l monotony; an agreement i n many points, i n the p r e v a i l i n g manner, but no school; a l o c a l character everywhere strongly marked, but no a r t i s t i c unity. 34 This e x h i b i t i o n contained many of the Pre-Raphaelite works i n c l u d i n g such examples of the "hard-edge" technique as M i l l a i s 1 Ophelia and Holman Hunt's Our E n g l i s h Coasts. [Figures 4 and 5] To the outsider, these Pre-Raphaelite works were very l i k e the paintings which the Pre- Raphaelites so d i s l i k e d which were exhibited with them i n 1855* This 37 F i g u r e 4 38 Figure 5 39 coherence of expression would perhaps not properly be c a l l e d a s t y l e and yet i t made the a r t world work and kept a l l the opposing and d i s - i n t e g r a t i n g forces i n check. The coherence of the mid-Victorian s t y l e was singular considering the contradictions which i t contained and from which i t sprang. The i n s t i t u t i o n s and i d e a l s of the a r t world r e s i s t e d the consequences of the s o c i a l and economic changes which were engulfing i t s markets, a t t i t u d e s , r e l a t i o n s h i p s and prejudices yet the a r t which was produced out of t h i s m i l i e u profoundly touched the deepest sympa- t h i e s of the new society, rather than the o l d . And i t appeared to have produced t h i s s t y l e unintentionally* almost unconsciously, and often i n c o n t r a d i c t i o n to i t s own expressed i d e a l s . This s t y l e was evident i n the works of F r i t h and M i l l a i s , perhaps the most representative mid-Victorian a r t i s t s , and a l s o i n the work of hack i l l u s t r a t o r s and manufacturing designers. The e f f e c t s of t h i s s t y l e on the a r t world were dramatic though not s t a r t l i n g l y v i s i b l e . During the 1 8 5 0 's the mid-Victorian s t y l e allowed ithe a r t world to develop as a whole, and s i m i l a r a t t i t u d e s among c r i t i c s , a r t i s t s and c o l l e c t o r s towards the new s t y l e gave a sense of community to c u l t u r a l l i f e . The s t y l e i t s e l f contributed to the growing popularity of a r t , which meant the entry i n t o the a r t world of new people and new c l a s s e s . By the l a t e 1860's when d i f f e r e n t and even h o s t i l e s t y l e s were acknowledged i n E n g l i s h a r t , the mid-Victorian s t y l e began to lose i t s coherence, i t s v i t a l i t y and meaning. By the l a t e 1870's the mid-Victorian s t y l e , or a caricature of i t , was i d e n t i f i e d with p e c u l i a r a e s t h e t i c prejudices and with cer- t a i n economic and s o c i a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s . The development of the mid-Victorian s t y l e twined around three 40 c u l t u r a l events-r-the formation of the "Clique", the ambitious statement of Pre-Raphaelite a r t i s t i c aims on canvas and i n p r i n t , and the a r t c r i - t i c i s m of John Ruskin, e s p e c i a l l y h i s Academy Notes f o r the 1850's. To- gether, these three events meant more to the development of the V i c t o r i a n a r t consciousness than merely the sum of each, and t h e i r e n t i r e e f f e c t was d i s t i n c t from the e f f e c t s of any one or two taken together. The e f f e c t of the "Clique" on the a r t world was n e g l i g i b l e and t h i s a s s o c i a t i o n of Academy students broke up without ever achieving public recognition and long before i t s members won r e p u t a t i o n s . ^ But i t l a s t e d long enough to make conscious i n i t s members a concern f o r representing human beings i n a c e r t a i n way. Each member of the "Clique" sought to excel i n one type of subject painting—W. P. F r i t h i n scenes from con- temporary l i f e , Richard Dadd i n imaginative works, H. N. O'Neil i n works of " s t r i k i n g character, .appealing to the f e e l i n g s , " Augustus Egg i n the i l l u s t r a t i o n of famous l i t e r a r y works, and John P h i l l i p i n works i l - l u s t r a t i n g incidents i n the l i v e s of famous people. This apportionment of a r t i s t i c labors reveals very l i t t l e about the group's aims and i d e a l s but t h e i r work c l e a r l y shows that they were preoccupied with representing incidentsjand emotions which were t y p i c a l of a l l human l i f e . Because they portrayed great personages and great events i n common terms, without the solemn pomp and ceremony which c h a r a c t e r i s t i c a l l y clothed them, they pleased the democratic sentiment which b e l i e v e d i n e q u a l i t y of a l l men. F r i t h ' s s e r i e s of works on marriage proposals and H. N. O'Neil's famous Eastward Ho! demonstrate two sides of t h i s treatment. [Figures 6 and 7] In The Proposal F r i t h presented an important but a usual event i n the l i v e s of most people and i n doing so suggested t y p i c a l but sincere 41 Figure 6 Figure 7 43 and d e e p l y - f e l t emotions. O'Neil presented a s t r i k i n g contemporary event i n the p a r t i c u l a r incident of men embarking on a dangerous under- taking, saying goodby to t h e i r loved ones. In h i s work, O'Neil por- trayed the euphoria, the parting g r i e f , the consciousness of r i g h t , almost a l l the emotional drama of the event which could be p e r s o n i f i e d . These a r t i s t s c o n t r o l l e d face and gesture i n t h e i r works i n order to portray precise and recognizable emotions and to impress on the viewer the meaning of t h e i r work. The i'huraanism" of the "Clique" amounted to the promotion of emotional subjects i n E n g l i s h a r t and the consequent importance of sentimentalism f o r both a r t i s t and a r t - l o v e r . The a r t i s t s l e f t l i t t l e mystery i n t h e i r works as they c a r e f u l l y manipulated the emotional and i n t e l l e c t u a l responses of the viewer, often through the heavy-handed symbolism'.of Egg's Past and Present. [Figures 8, 9 and 10] Yet t h i s manipulation was possible only because the p r e j u - dices of V i c t o r i a n l i f e were so concrete and pervasive. These prejudices informed l i t e r a t u r e as well as a r t and amounted to a conviction that c e r t a i n values were of paramount importance. More importantly, perhaps, these prejudices were f i r m l y grounded i n a s o c i a l conception of men i n the world and thus tended to explain a l l human a c t i o n i n t y p i c a l , s o c i a l l y recognized terms. Mid-Victorian a r t r e v e l l e d i n i t s i n t e l l i g i b i l i t y ; anyone who understood the way of the world could e a s i l y understand i t . The Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood made the second great contribu- t i o n to the mid-Victorian s t y l e . Their c o n t r i b u t i o n came through John M i l l a i s and William Holman Hunt, however, rather than through D. G. Rossetti who worked i n r e l a t i v e obscurity during the 1850's. The "Clique" had not bothered much with technique, being preoccupied with the repre- Figure 8 Figure 9 46 Figure 1 0 47 sentation of subject. Pre-Raphaelitism, e s p e c i a l l y the works which M i l l a i s and Holman Hunt exhibited at the Academy i n the 1850's, was a technique which emphasized b r i l l i a n t c o l o r and meticulous d e t a i l . Rossetti's withdrawal from p u b l i c e x h i b i t i o n s ensured that h i s medie- v a l idealism was not associated with the development of Pre-Raphaelite p a i n t i n g i n the popular p r e s s . ^ The prosaic medievalism of M i l l a i s ' and Hunt's work was not e n t i r e l y a l i e n to the public which was fond of F r i t h ' s work and t h e i r insistence on " t r u t h to nature" (coupled with the extraordinary b r i l l i a n c e of t h e i r canvases on the Academy's walls) was a s a t i s f y i n g statement of a r t i s t i c purpose. The garish paintings of "hard-edge" Pre-Raphaelitism were not b e a u t i f u l to the mid-Victorian public, but as M i l l a i s * s t y l e changed, he symbolized the synthesis of Pre-Raphaelite actualism and brightness with conventional Academic beauty. A commentator on the P a r i s E x h i b i t i o n of 1867* remembering the Pre-Raphaelite display at the 1855 E x h i b i t i o n , described t h i s syn- t h e s i s . That Pre-Raphaelitism, i n the i n t e r v a l between [1855 and 1867]... has worked its^own euro* Mr. M i l l a i s himself proves, by pictures which are pledged to the opposite school of breadth and g e n e r a l i - z a t i o n . This p r a c t i c a l e x t i n c t i o n of Pre-Raphaelitism must be counted as one of the c h i e f f a c t s brought out i n P a r i s ; yet there i s reason to hope that what was good i n the system survives. P r e c i s i o n , t r u t h and i n d i v i d u a l i t y have been gained. Color and d e t a i l were the main c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s which mid-Victorian a r t gained from the Pre-Raphaelite example, and i t a l s o contributed an idea of a r t , a complex of i d e a l s and p r a c t i c e s which made a r t e s p e c i a l l y pre- cious. Ruskin's e f f e c t on mid-Victorian s t y l e was c l o s e l y r e l a t e d to the Pre-Raphaelite problem. He of course came to the defense of Pre- _4.8 Raphaelitism but through h i s w r i t i n g and h i s i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of Pre- Raphaelitism he expanded the meaning of the movement i n the p u b l i c mind. M i l l a i s and Holman Hunt were committed to a p a r t i c u l a r technique, "hard-edge" Pre-Raphaelitism, as well as the general p r i n c i p l e of 39 " t r u t h to nature." Ruskin fastened on the p r i n c i p l e and praised the honesty and d e t a i l e d accuracy of representation i n a r t i s t s whose s t y l e s resembled the Pre-Raphaelites' but who were sometimes completely ignorant of the movement, such as John Frederick L e w i s . ^ Even William Dyce, an Academician working securely within mid-Victorian Academic conventions, and W. P. F r i t h were praised f o r Pre-Raphaelite work. I f Rossetti's f a i l u r e to achieve p u b l i c recognition obscured the nature of Pre- Raphaelite p a i n t i n g i n the 1850's, Ruskin f u r t h e r obscured i t by p r a i s i n g the "Pre-Raphaelitism" of many a r t i s t s of widely d i f f e r e n t aims. Both circumstances a f f e c t e d the eventual acceptance of Pre-Raphaelite a r t i n which the prosaic humanism of M i l l a i s ' compositions e a s i l y entered the mainstream of mid-Victorian a r t , once h i s "hard-edge" technique was softened. The Pre-Raphaelite c o n t r i b u t i o n to the mid-Victorian s t y l e was p a r t l y a method of representation. A r t i s t s were more c a r e f u l i n the p a i n t i n g of d e t a i l s and e f f e c t s , and the tendency towards v i s u a l d i s - i n t e g r a t i o n i n paintings became more pronounced. In "hard-edge" Pre- Raphaelite compositions such as Holman Hunt's Our E n g l i s h Coasts and M i l l a i s ' Ophelia, the vividness of c o l o r and d e t a i l made i t d i f f i c u l t f o r the eye to comprehend the whole as i t tended rather to wander r e s t - l e s s l y from d e t a i l to d e t a i l . The same tendency marked many V i c t o r i a n works. U n t i l the l a s t decades of the century when a new a r t consciousness 4 9 demanded a subordination of v i s u a l d e t a i l i n order f o r the e n t i r e work to have a single v i s u a l e f f e c t on the viewer, paintings were bound together to produce a single e f f e c t by the narrative or sentimental i n t e r e s t of the subject. Only the l a t e r generation denounced these narrative bonds as u n a r t i s t i c and therefore i l l e g i t i m a t e ; f o r the mid- V i c t o r i a n s , character and sentiment were as legitimate as perspective i n a r t . This visw of a r t a c t u a l l y encouraged the autonomy of the de- t a i l s i n a p a i n t i n g because the d e t a i l s of expression and material props g r e a t l y enhanced the narrative of a work. Pre-Raphaelitism tended to expand the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of sentimental a r t . Another c o n t r i b u t i o n of Pre-Raphaelitism-was the widespread accep- tance of t r u t h to nature as a tenet of c r i t i c i s m . Ruskin*B a r t c r i t i c i s m i n the 1850's was devoted to the t r u t h of representation and he attacked t r i v i a l matters as often as he c r i t i c i z e d mistaken conceptions. In a c r i t i c i s m of a p a i n t i n g of a scene from King Lear, Ruskin disapproved of the conception of Cordelia but he a l s o objected that the l i g h t r e - f l e c t i n g from a jewel could not appear the way i t was painted, given the represented conditions of l i g h t . Anyone could v e r i f y t h i s by a 41 simple experiment. This meant that people attending e x h i b i t i o n s could perceive t e c h n i c a l greatness by applying to t h e i r own powers of 42 observation; c r i t i c s often d i d l i t t l e more. Throughout the 1850's and 1860's, a r t - l o v e r s were delighted by trompe d ' o e i l e f f e c t s . There were p i t f a l l s f o r a r t i s t s i n t h i s kind of c r i t i c i s m , even f o r the most t e c h n i c a l l y b r i l l i a n t . A correspondent to the Art Journal complained i n 1855 that the f i r e i n M i l l a i s ' The Rescue ( i n which a fireman i s b r i n g i n g two c h i l d r e n out of t h e i r burning home to the f r a n t i c mother) 50 c l e a r l y had to be from a chemical factory rather than from a private dwelling because only c e r t a i n chemicals produced the l i v i d red hue of 43 r -i the flames as M i l l a i s painted them. |_Pigure 11 J These changes i n the V i c t o r i a n a r t consciousness were subtle but important. The most important e f f e c t was to make i t easy f o r the newly enriched middle-classes to comprehend a r t and to f e e l at ease.in the a r t world. The humanism of mid-Victorian subjects and the actualism of representation were immediately i n t e l l i g i b l e to any viewer who was acquainted with.the s o c i a l and c u l t u r a l r i t u a l s of mid-century. This i n t e l l i g i b i l i t y accounted p a r t l y f o r the immense popularity of p a i n t i n g i n the 1850's and 1860's, but mid-Victorian a r t was not only comprehen- s i b l e , i t was p o s i t i v e l y endearing. The one aspect of contemporary l i f e which the a r t i s t s of the period captured f a i t h f u l l y on canvas was the emotional l i f e . A l l the meaning that f e e l i n g s gave to events was evident i n F r i t h ' s The Derby Day, Egg's Past and Present, Bowler's The Doubt and M i l l a i s 1 Cherry Blossoms. [Figures 12 and 13] This side of a c t u a l l i f e could only f i t meaningfully i n t o the domestic arena i n which the emotional l i f e of most mid-Victorians was enshrined. Mid- V i c t o r i a n paintings u s u a l l y hung i n private homes rather than i n p u b l i c b u i l d i n g s or commercial o f f i c e s . ^ Around the domestic hearth these compositions made sense and they served a c u l t u r a l and s o c i a l role s i m i l a r to that of the well-tuned and oft-played piano. P a r t l y i t was pride of possession and p a r t l y i t was as a focus f o r conversation that made paintings a worthwhile a d d i t i o n to the home. But paintings a l s o represented a l l the f i n e r things i n l i f e , not only c u l t u r a l , but moral, emotional and i n t e l l e c t u a l as w e l l . Because i n many ways the home was 51 Figure 11 52 Figure 13 5 4 a compensating i n s t i t u t i o n f o r the t o i l s of business or p u b l i c l i f e * p a i n t i n g was d e l i b e r a t e l y divorced from the harsher r e a l i t i e s of making a l i v i n g and took i t s place n a t u r a l l y at home along with children* music* garden p a r t i e s * needlework and r u s t l i n g s k i r t s . Despite the great popularity of art* there were V i c t o r i a n s who yearned f o r what was not. Many c r i t i c s resented the f a c t that paintings adorned private drawing-rooms rather than p u b l i c e d i f i c e s . Although a r t i s t s created works that touched c r i t i c s deeply* there l i n g e r e d through the 1 8 5 0 ' s an anxiety as to what t h i s a r t expressed of n a t i o n a l l i f e 45 or greatness. This anxiety was a shadow cast by a fundamental problem i n the manufactured a r t s where the idea that a r t n e c e s s a r i l y expressed n a t i o n a l character had long been established. Ruskin recognized t h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p and i n h i s c r i t i c i s m of the 1 8 5 0 ' s * he attempted to come to grips with i t and with h i s own f e e l i n g s and hopes f o r a r t . The pro- ductions of past ages were much more a v a i l a b l e to public view i n the 1 8 5 0 ' s than they had been before* and h i s t o r i c a l s t y l e s were both b e a u t i - f u l and awesome. They had that q u a l i t y which the V i c t o r i a n s never quite achieved—the monumental. In competing with h i s t o r i c a l s t y l e s * V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t s attempted to mix great subjects with t h e i r sentimental humanism* a recipe destructive to monumentality. With Ruskin* whose c r i t i c i s m s were always personal and honest* the greatest pictures were often those which d i d not express any n a t i o n a l sentiment and which had no touch of the monumental. In 1 8 5 5 " t w o pictures were exhibite'd at the Royal Academy demonstrating two d i s t i n c t l y d i f f e r e n t approaches to composition* M i l l a i s ' The Rescue and Frederic Leighton's Cimabue's Madonna. [Figures 1 1 and 1 4 ] The Rescue was the picture of the year and Ruskin praised 56 i t l a v i s h l y declaring i t the only great picture i n the e x h i b i t i o n . But, he wrote, i t was "very great. The immortal element i s i n i t to the f u l l . I t i s e a s i l y understood, and the public very generally under- 46 stand i t . " * In h i s same c r i t i c i s m Ruskin discussed Leighton's picture and though he thought i t a good painting, he had serious reservations. I t s defect i s , that the equal care given to the whole of i t , i s not yet care enough. I am aware of no instance of a young painter, who was to he r e a l l y great, who d i d not i n h i s youth paint with intense e f f o r t and delicacy of f i n i s h . The handling here i s much too broad; and the faces are, i n many instances, out of drawing, and very opaque and feeble i n colour... The Dante e s p e c i a l l y i s i l l - c o n c e i v e d — f a r too haughty and i n no wise noble or thoughtful. Ruskin's reasons f o r p r e f e r r i n g The Rescue was that i t expressed a "higher order of emotion" than any expressed i n Leighton*s p a i n t i n g . Yet Leighton's p a i n t i n g was meant to express the enthusiasm and admira- t i o n of an e n t i r e community f o r a great work of a r t . Ruskin ought to have understood Leighton's composition and at l e a s t sympathized with the i d e a l expressed. But Leighton*s s t y l e was monumental to the point of impersonality and with t h i s Ruskin could not sympathize, even though t h e i r i d e a l s were s i m i l a r . Ruskin, l i k e most mid-Victorians, cared more f o r f e e l i n g than form i n a r t and f e e l i n g could not sustain a monu- mental s t y l e . National a r t , a r t which expressed great and noble ideas, required some touch of the monumental, some impressive convention of expression which transcended s o c i a l r i t u a l . This was no longer pos- s i b l e i n the V i c t o r i a n world. Other aspects of the mid-Victorian search f o r great contemporary a r t demonstrated the ambiguities of the a t t i t u d e towards the p o s s i b i l i t y of a national school. Haydon's school of h i s t o r i c a l p a i n t i n g was a -57 dead-issue. The h i s t o r i c a l works decorating the Houses of Parliament brought praise and even some enthusiasm but they were i n d i v i d u a l e f f o r t s and could not match the popularity of the o i l paintings at the Royal Academy's e x h i b i t i o n s . The cartoons entered i n competition f o r the decoration of Parliament were honored with a p r o v i n c i a l tour by an a r t dealer, but when G. F. Watts' cartoon was s o l d to another dealer, he 47 had to cut i t i n t o small pieces i n order to s e l l i t . High a r t was not popular at the Academy e x h i b i t i o n s e i t h e r . W. P. F r i t h , .the most prosaic of the great V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t s , while admitting that h i s works were not great nor could be, had l i t t l e sympathy with High A r t . In h i s Autobiography F r i t h described an incident which occurred at an Academy e x h i b i t i o n . One Academician of what i s c a l l e d the "high-aim" school, by which i s meant a p e c u l i a r people who aim high and nearly always miss, and who very much object to those who aim much lower and happen to h i t — h e s a i d to me, looking at the crowd round my p i c t u r e : "That work of yours i s very popular; but I intend to e x h i b i t a work next year that w i l l have a greater crowd about i t than that." "Indeed," s a i d I . "And what i s your subject?" "Well, I have not quite f i x e d on the t i t l e yet; but I think I s h a l l c a l l i t 'Monday Morning at Newgatei';—the hanging morning, you know. I s h a l l have a man hanging and the crowd about him. Great v a r i e t y of character, you know. I wonder you never thought of i t . " 4 8 The problem with High A r t was of course that there was no fundamental agreement even among the middle-classes as to what images expressed n a t i o n a l sentiment and yet c e r t a i n q u a l i t i e s had "to be included. Under these circumstances, a r t i s t s could not compete with h i s t o r i c a l s t y l e s . However much some a r t - l o v e r s i n the 1850's missed "great" contem- porary a r t , there can be no doubt that the s t y l e was tremendously s a t i s f y i n g . I t encouraged the middle-classes to engage i n p i c t u r e - 58 buying, as well as to attend exhibitions and subscribe to art periodicals. There was a common language of artistic imagery in the 1850's and as artists knew what was expected of them, so buyers could value a work with very l i t t l e experience. Sentimental humanism of subject, bright color and detail, careful accuracy of representation—these were the cornerstones of the mid-Victorian art world. To the style which they created was due the harmony and coherence which distinguished the 1850's. Despite complaints from some quarters about prices paid for various works of art, the art market worked because of the intelligibility of the commodity and because prices rose gradually. The f i r s t challenges to this world came as stylistic innovations and although they were closely connected with social, economic and intellectual challenges, the crisis which altered the mid-Victorian art consciousness was brought about by the problems which new styles created. And the f i r B t style which chal- lenged the art world after the Pre-Raphaelite rebellion was introduced in the 1860's by artists trained on the continent. Their style reflected their artistic education and their distinctly different aims in a r t — form arrived to challenge feeling. The two artists who most clearly and forcefully represented this new style were Frederic Leighton and Edward Poynter. Leighton had re- ceived a l l his training on the continent, f i r s t in Germany under Steinle, then in Italy and finally in France. Italy .was his great love, but he travelled to France out of an inner necessity. From an artistic point of view I am quite glad to leave Rome, which I, for a beginner, regard as the grave of art. A young man needs before a l l things the emulation of hisicosatsaiporaries; this I lack here in the highest degree; also here I cannot learn my trade... I am of—the-opinion that the spirit cannot work 59 effectively u n t i l the hand has obtained complete pliancy, and I cannot see what.-, right a painter has to evade the d i f f i c u l t i e s of painting... So he went to Paris i n 1856 and although he knew Poynter and had advised him to study i n Prance, he took almost no part i n the student l i f e led 50-1 by Poynter and his friends at Gleyre's studio. Poynter had decided to study im Paris after v i s i t i n g the International Exhibition i n Paris i n 1855* This was the f i r s t time that a large collection of both French and B r i t i s h paintings were exhibited together and the f i r s t opportunity for a r t i s t s and the public to compare the two national schools. Poynter for one was struck by the elegance and the free but controlled energy 5»l of French draughtsmanship. W. M. Rossetti recognized that the ex- cellence of the French school lay i n i t s competence which was "beyond r i v a l r y . " ^ The art student i n France was thoroughly trained i n the s k i l l s of the hand and i n the production of various p i c t o r i a l effects. The French were preoccupied with form rather than subject and as the English had expended great efforts on subject pieces, so had the French given their best to achieve - ati unsurpassed expertise. For Poynter and Leighton, indeed for any young English a r t i s t who was not entirely satisfied with Academic conventions, the brilliance and ease of French work was seductive. They hoped to learn French forms i n order to perfect the English style. They never entirely renounced the English subject nor did they ever abandon the lessons i n form which their Parisian training had i n s t i l l e d . In the early 1860's Leighton and Poynter returned to England to begin their a r t i s t i c careers. At the same time other a r t i s t s trained 6 0 i n France came to work i n England—James Whistler* George Du Maurier* Thomas Armstrong* Alphonse Legros and James J.*Ti©sot. Their d i s t i n c t l y - d i f f e r e n t s t y l e * so evident i n Leighton's p a i n t i n g i n 1855* was not so c l e a r i n the 1860's when individualism had created so many d i f f e r e n t a r t i s t i c v i s i o n s within the c l e a r s t y l i s t i c conventions of the period. Leighton had read Ruskin's books and sought to copy nature as Ruskin had 53 suggested* with a l l reverence* accepting everything* r e j e c t i n g nothing. Leighton and Poynter accepted the necessity of an i n t e r e s t i n g subject but drew upon the i d e a l forms of c l a s s i c i s m . Their subjects were r e - moved from the kind of humanism current among most V i c t o r i a n works. Their fondness f o r c l a s s i c a l forms* e s p e c i a l l y drapery* grew out of t h e i r continental t r a i n i n g . At the same time another new influence was developing i n English a r t . Rossetti took Edward Burne-Jones as a p u p i l and Rossetti's mys- t i c a l and i d e a l i s t i c medievalism captivated an apt p u p i l . Like the a r t i s t s t r a i n e d i n France* Rossetti and Burne-Jones rejected the s e n t i - mental representation of contemporary l i f e i n favor the a representa- t i o n of the forms and v i s u a l rhythms of medieval l i f e . Although the c l a s s i c a l and medieval forms of the two groups were as d i f f e r e n t from each other as they were from the t y p i c a l mid-Victorian s t y l e * they presented a s i m i l a r challenge to that s t y l e because they were both e s s e n t i a l l y anti-modern. And t h e i r d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with modern l i f e was not simply an a e s t h e t i c preference. Like the mid-Victorians* t h e i r a e s t h e t i c preferences were grounded i n an e n t i r e complex of feelings* prejudices and values* and both Burne-Jones and Leighton 61 expressed-a-deep -distrust of many of the values and i d e a l s which i n - formed middle-class l i f e . Burne-Jones learned t h i s d i s t r u s t e a r l y f i r s t from Newman through h i s Sermons. When I was f i f t e e n or sixteen he [Newman] taught me so much I do mind [ s i c ] — t h i n g s that w i l l never be out of me. In an age of sofas and cushions he taught me to he i n d i f f e r e n t to comfort* and i n an age of materialism he taught me to venture a l l on the unseen, and t h i s so e a r l y that i t was well i n me when l i f e began... So i f t h i s world cannot tempt me with money or l u x u r y — and i t c a n ' t — o r anything i t has i n i t s trumpery treasure- house* i t i s most of a l l because he s a i d i t i n a way that touched me... So he stands to me as a great image or symbol of a man whp never stooped* and who put a l l t h i s world's l i f e i n one splendid venture* which he knew as well as you or I might f a i l * but with a g l o r i o u s scorn of everything that was not h i s dream.54 Leighton's r e j e c t i o n of the values of modern l i f e was f i r s t i n - dicated while he was s t i l l a student i n I t a l y . Although Leighton was l a t e r known as a man of remarkable s o c i a l g i f t s * i n I t a l y he displayed an intense aversion to a type of person which l a t e r he and many others i d e n t i f i e d as a threat to a r t . ...I have an ungovernable horror of being asked to tea; my aversion to tea-fights* muffin scrambles* and crumpet c o n f l i c t s * which has been gathering f o r a long time* has now become an open wound. The more I enjoy and appreciate the s o c i e t y and intercourse of the dozen people that I care to know* the more tiresome I f i n d the commerce of others* braves et exceilentes gens du reste; the Lord be merciful to the overwhelming i n s i p i d i t y of that i n d i v i d u a l whose,name i s L e g i o n — t h e unexceptionable— the h i g h l y respectable.55 In l a t e r years* Leighton i d e n t i f i e d u t i l i t a r i a n i s m with these medio- c r i t i e s and on them and t h e i r narrow materialism* he placed the r e - s p o n s i b i l i t y f o r the P h i l i s t i n i s m which oppressed a r t . But i t was the new s t y l e i t s e l f which most i n s i s t e n t l y attacked modern materialism and which l e d to the expression of these c r i t i c i s m s . " Almost a l l the elements of t h i s new formal s t y l e were anti-modern 62 or at l e a s t expressed the inadequacy of modern a r t i f a c t s f o r a r t i s t i c representations. The most obvious difference between the new s t y l e and the mid-Victorian s t y l e was that the new one r a r e l y portrayed modern subjects except i n p o r t r a i t u r e . Leighton and Poynter drew on c l a s s i c a l myth and h i s t o r y or s i m i l a r l y exotic subjects f o r t h e i r works while Rossetti and Burne-Jones drew on the legends and l i t e r a t u r e of the middle ages. One obvious reason f o r t h i s was that modern a r t i f a c t s of dress, f u r n i t u r e and a r c h i t e c t u r e had none of the formal, i d e a l q u a l i t i e s of the beauty which these a r t i s t s preferred. Above everything else these a r t i s t s sought a beauty of harmonious proportions, of flowing l i n e s and balanced forms, such as drapery displayed i n c l a s s i c a l a r t . Modern dress f o r women was constraining and ungainly while f o r men i t was drab, even absurdly p l a i n . The modern room was generally decorated with a myriad of unrelated forms and often with materials devoid of any r e a l beauty, but painted or papered or carved to disguise the f a c t . At the time Burne-Jones, Leighton, Poynter and the others entered the a r t world there were many reformers vehemently c h a s t i z i n g the manufactured a r t s f o r a l l t h e i r defects, and these a r t i s t s ..were among the f i r s t to create a new and s a t i s f y i n g s t y l e i n i n t e r i o r decoration. The a r t of the n e o - c l a s s i c i s t s and neo-medievalists presented with a l l d e l i b e r a t i o n a new world to V i c t o r i a n s , a world d i s t i n c t from con- temporary l i f e , more perfect and more b e a u t i f u l . The new a r t i s t s , even Burne-Jones, were not a c t u a l i s t s as the mid-Victorian a r t i s t s were; they were i d e a l i s t s seeking to c o n t r o l the v i s u a l rhythm of t h e i r works as c a r e f u l l y as t h e i r predecessors c o n t r o l l e d the emotional rhythm. And i n 63 .their subjects, the new a r t i s t s reached f o r perfection, avoiding sub- j e c t s which were too common, too intensely dramatic or too sentimental. The second element of d i s s a t i s f a c t i o n which the i d e a l i s t s d i s - played i n t h e i r works was a d i s t a s t e f o r the mid-Victorian s t y l e i t s e l f , e s p e c i a l l y the cleverness and commonness of i t . When Burne-Jones saw Rossetti's work f o r the f i r s t time, he thought i t so unlike the t y p i c a l work of the period as to be something e n t i r e l y d i f f e r e n t ; he had not 56 l i k e d a r t u n t i l he knew Rossetti's work. There was, the i d e a l i s t s believed, a fundamental difference between most mid-Victorian a r t and the great a r t of the past; great a r t was an expression of great f a i t h and was created out of a compelling inner necessity, but most V i c t o r i a n a r t was produced to make money. Leighton, comparing the o l d I t a l i a n masterpieces with those of h i s own period, s a i d : ...they...were a l l painted with an ardent b e l i e f i n the f a i t h to which they a l l owe t h e i r existence; from thence arose, amongst other excellencies, a c e r t a i n n a i f , ingenuously c h i l d l i k e t r e a t - ment of the miraculous, which, combined with the manly d i g n i t y of consummate a r t , gives them an indescribable charm, which nothing can replace. Now—with us, at l e a s t , of the c o l d b e l i e f — men throw r e a l l y eminent t a l e n t s — t o the dogs. Lacking the ardent f a i t h , as almost a l l did, the i d e a l i s t s attempted to match the s t r i v i n g f o r p e r f e c t i o n which they discerned i n older works. Leighton and Burne-Jones were a l i k e i n d e l i b e r a t e l y seeking out the 58 d i f f i c u l t i e s of p a i n t i n g i n order to avoid cleverness. Throughout h i s career Leighton was often c r i t i c i z e d f o r an overly r e f i n e d manner. His methods of composition and p a i n t i n g were so rigorous that they sys- t e m a t i c a l l y o b l i t e r a t e d a c c i d e n t a l or uncontrolled e f f e c t s . Yet Leighton recognizing the v a l i d i t y of t h i s objection, d e l i b e r a t e l y chose h i s super- l a t i v e l y f i n i s h e d r e s u l t s . — When a fellow a r t i s t praised a sketch and 64 and-asked-that Leighton not ruin i t by adding to i t , Leighton replied, No, I shall finish i t , and probably, as you suggest, spoil i t . To complete satisfactorily is what we painters strive for. I am not a great painter, but I am always striving to finish my work up to my first conception. ^ It was the idealists who made the connection between the low state of English art and the Philistinism of the middle-classes, who bought most of the contemporary paintings. Above a l l they despised the utilitarianism that pervaded so much of middle-class life and the preoccupation with material comforts and possessions. The triviality of middle-class life they attributed to the absence of serious beliefs and pursuits. In reality, the spiritual life of the mid-Victorians disappointed because there was no high place in i t for art and i t did not provide the spiritual inspiration which the artists sought. It was not the faithlessness of the age which created such discontent in the artists, rather i t was their own lack of faith which the age could not remedy. The whole current of human life [Leighton declared to Academy students] setting resolutely in a direction opposed to artistic production, no love of beauty, no sense of the outward dignity and comeliness of things, calling on the part of the public for expression at the artist's hands; and, as a corollary, no dignity, no comeliness for the most part, in their outward aspect... The emotional l i f e represented in mid-Victorian works, even when i t was serious and sincere, was trivial and personal. The idealists rejected this view of human nature which was so grounded in the social prejudices of the middle-classes. They wished rather to express the abiding human values which a l l great art expressed and which transcended social and historical conditions. Hence their preoccupation with classical myth and literature. [Figures 15,-16 and 17] With the idealists, art 66 68 meant d i f f e r e n t things than i t d i d to the mid-Victorians and t h i s was v i s i b l e i n t h e i r s t y l e , t h e i r subject matter and t h e i r remarks i n l e t - t e r s and speeches. They were preoccupied with form and color, with subjects of enduring human i n t e r e s t which were worthy of t h e i r e f f o r t s , and with the serious dedication of the a r t i s t to h i s a r t i n a devoted but l i f e l e s s i m i t a t i o n of the f a i t h f u l . Of c r i t i c a l importance to them was the r e l a t i o n s h i p of a r t to society, and i n so f a r as they could, they preached the reformation of society f o r the r e b i r t h of a r t . And the f a c t o r i n the a r t world which c o n t i n u a l l y mocked the meaning of a r t and the i d e a l r e l a t i o n s h i p between a r t and s o c i e t y was the a r t market. In the 1860's when most of the i d e a l i s t s began to pursue careers i n London, the a r t market boomed. C o l l e c t o r s paid huge sums f o r o l d masters, but a l s o f o r the works of l i v i n g a r t i s t s which were recommended to buyers by being easy to authenticate. Prices had r i s e n during the 1850's and by the 1860's, a r t i s t s could l i v e l u x u r i o u s l y from the sale of t h e i r works. A r t i s t s were a l s o r i s i n g i n s o c i a l esteem and Frederic Leighton was the f i r s t a r t i s t i n England to be r a i s e d to a peerage i n 62 1896. This was indeed a golden age f o r l i v i n g a r t i s t s , yet there were serious problems, problems which p r o s p e r i t y aggravated rather than solved. As the a r t market a t t r a c t e d more money, i t a l s o a t t r a c t e d specu- l a t o r s . The tremendous increase i n p r i c e s and the two d i f f e r e n t s t y l e s made speculation more obvious. One p a i n t i n g was often s o l d several times i n as many years and the d i s p a r i t y between the p r i c e s paid on the d i f - ferent sales u s u a l l y rose as other a r t p r i c e s rose. The i d e a l i s t s never thought j t h e ^ p r i c e s - p a i d - f o r t h e i r works were too high, yet there 69 were complaints that some a r t i s t s received more money than t h e i r works were w o r t h . T h e same economic phenomenon which had allowed the i d e a l i s t s to enter e a s i l y i n t o the a r t world, r i s i n g p r i c e s , a l s o aggravated that aspect of the a r t world which was most d i s t a s t e f u l to them, the impersonal exchange of money f o r work. The i d e a l i s t s were not alone i n t h e i r condemnation of the specu- l a t i v e p r i n c i p l e i n the a r t market. W. P. F r i t h i n h i s Autobiography lamented the changes i n the a r t market. A great change has taken place since the year 1844* when such men as Sheepshanks, Vernon, M i l l e r , Gibbons and others were c o l l e c t i n g works of modern a r t , influenced by the love of i t * and no£ by the notion of investment so common i n the l a s t few years. A r t c r i t i c s eager to explain the decadence of a r t and the c u l t u r a l developments i n V i c t o r i a n England a l s o analyzed the market and i t s unfortunate e f f e c t s on p a i n t i n g . Within the present generation the patronage of l i v i n g a r t has become t e n f o l d what i t was at the beginning of the century. P r i c e s have r i s e n as patrons have increased. The nobleman, as a rule, i s no longer the p r i n c i p a l picture-buyer... The great manufacturing andttrading d i s t r i c t s now open the best picture markets. The overflowings of wealth r e a l i z e d i n Lancashire m i l l s , and Liverpool or London o f f i c e s , and Gloucestershire forges, are invested i n p i c t u r e s . Love of a r t , i n some cases; ostenta- t i o n , and the notion that a g a l l e r y of p i c t u r e s i s the becoming appendage of a f i n e house, i n mor®,- coupled with a keen eye to business, i n most instances are the motives f o r t h i s k i n d of investment...also the r i s e of the middle-man, the p i c t u r g r dealer, p r i n t publishing i s almost e n t i r e l y i n t h e i r hands. The same author complained of the "unexampled and triumphant i n t r u s i o n i n t o the domain of a r t of the t r a d i n g and speculative p r i n c i p l e . " But although c r i t i c s were concerned about these developments, i t was the a r t i s t who dealt with the problems they caused, and who b e n e f i t e d from the new r i c h e s . 70 Much of the s e l l i n g done i n the 1 8 5 0's by a r t i s t s was to established buyers, both private p a r t i e s and dealers. M i l l a i s sold many of h i s e a r l y works to Mr. Combe of Oxford and to Mr. Parrar and Mr. White, both 6 6 picture dealers. Farxar and White had regular buyers as well and they made t h e i r p r o f i t s by r e s e l l i n g M i l l a i s 1 works at a higher price and reserving the copyright i n order to p r o f i t from the sale of engravings. This was apparently a general p r a c t i c e . The most g a l l i n g aspect of the a r t market was the way i t enriched speculators who p r o f i t e d from another's work. Every a r t i s t -who had achieved some success could look back on works of h i s which had made fortunes f o r publishers or which 6 8 had been sold cheaply by him and now fetched a high price at auction. Most of the i n j u s t i c e s of the a r t market had e x i s t e d e a r l i e r f o r the b a s i c mechanisms had been long established, but they had not been so v i s i b l e before. The mid-Victorians were often devoted a r t i s t s , yet they r a r e l y looked on t h e i r profession as more than a superior trade; they were proud of t h e i r s k i l l y , unashamed of t h e i r honors and income. The i d e a l i s t s , however, saw themselves as more than p r o f e s s i o n a l s . Por them a r t was a c a l l i n g and becoming an a r t i s t meant devoting oneself to a rigorous s t r i v i n g f o r p e r f e c t i o n . The i d e a l i s t s themselves perceived that the Church, e s p e c i a l l y the Catholic Church, provided a model form of l i f e , and the s p i r i t u a l v i t a l i t y , which they lacked. I t haunted the agnostic Leighton i n h i s e a r l y student years. What a r t i s t , however uncatholic i n h i s b e l i e f , can contemplate those o l d Gothic churches, with t h e i r g l o r i o u s tabernacles and other ornaments equally b e a u t i f u l and equally disused, without p a i n f u l l y f e e l i n g what an almost deadly blow the Reformation was 71 to High Art, what a powerful incentive i t removed, irrevocably? Who, i n h i s heart of hearts, can but dwell with melancholy r e - - gret on the times when a r t was coupled with b e l i e f , and so many divine works were v i r t u a l l y expressions of f a i t h ? What a p u r i - f y i n g and enobling influence was thus exercised over the jfcaste of the a r t i s t ! an influence which nothing can replace... In the market-place the d i s t i n c t i o n between the mid-Victorians and the i d e a l i s t s became p a i n f u l l y c l e a r — t h e o l d professionals painted to make money, the i d e a l i s t s painted because of a s p i r i t u a l need. In h i s book, Three Great Modern Painters, A. Lys Baldry emphasized that none of these painters, Leighton, Burne-Jones or Whistler, catered to the popular taste and c i t e d t h e i r i s o l a t i o n from various movements and, i n the case of Burne-Jones and Whistler, from the Academy as evidence 70 of t h e i r true inner i n s p i r a t i o n . The r e a l a r t i s t looked only to him- s e l f f o r h i s standards and because of t h i s , those a r t i s t s who ignored or attacked the Academy were e n t i r e l y acceptable. Academic a r t i s t s such as Leighton, Poynter and Laurence Alma-Tadema were acceptable as well, t h e i r membership not being held against them. The i d e a l i s t s shared a more coherent view of the a r t i s t ' s s o c i a l role than d i d the mid-Victorians, but that view stressed individualism, i n s p i r a t i o n and an inner consciousness of duty. Although they sympa- thized with each other, they never acted together as a group. Nor d i d they ever f u l l y r e a l i z e , even to themselves, the role of a r t i n the modern world. Their n o s t a l g i a f o r the o l d age of f a i t h was based on t h e i r con- v i c t i o n that i n such an age, a r t had held a worthy p o s i t i o n . The anxiety and despair which they f e l t was due p a r t l y to the f a c t that they could not e n t i r e l y replace r e l i g i o n with a r t , that the c u l t of a r t alone could not, i n t h e i r eyes, sustain a r t i n the s o c i a l role they wished 72 f o r i t . The major a e s t h e t i c difference between the mid-Victorians and the i d e a l i s t s was almost i d e n t i c a l to t h e i r s t y l i s t i c d i f f e r e n c e s . The mid-Victorians loved beauty but they found i t i n naturalism and i n popular types i n which l o v e l i n e s s and sentiment were mixed. There was a paradox i n the d i s t i n c t i o n between the aesthetic aims of the mid- V i c t o r i a n s and the i d e a l i s t s . Although the i d e a l i s t s stressed those aspects of p a i n t i n g which were apprehended by s i g h t — f o r m * l i n e , c o l o r and harmonious p r o p o r t i o n s — m i d - V i c t o r i a n canvases depended more on the immediate sensual appeal of a work. A mid-Victorian p a i n t i n g required the viewer to enter i n t o the scene portrayed, to believe i n i t , and i t accomplished t h i s p a r t l y by c a r e f u l naturalism which made d e t a i l s sensibly r e a l . But t h i s sensuousness, because i t served a d e f i n i t e p i c t o r i a l purpose, was subordinated to an idea of character. When M i l l a i s considered women i n a r t , he described the sensual appeal of mid-Victorian a r t . I t i s only since Watteau and Gainsborough that woman has won her r i g h t place i n A r t . The Dutch had no love f o r women, and the I t a l i a n s were as bad. The women's pictures by T i t i a n , Raphael, Rembrandt, Van Dyck, and Velasquez are magnificent as works of A r t ; but who would ears to k i s s such women? Watteau, Gains- borough, and Reynolds were needed to show us how to do j u s t i c e to woman and to r e f l e c t her sweetness. Sweetness was an a t t r i b u t e of character rather than form. While the mid-Victorians pursued the beatity of character, the i d e a l i s t s sought an enduring beauty of form p r e c i s e l y l i k e the "magnificent" a r t of T i t i a n and Velasquez. [Figures 18 and 19] The sensuousness of the i d e a l i s t s was almost cold-blooded compared with that of the mid-Victorians. And yet i d e a l i s t canvases aimed at d e l i g h t i n g the mind through de- Figure 18 7 4 Figure 19 Z5- l i g h t i n g the-eye; they appealed d i r e c t l y and p a r t i c u l a r l y to the senses as the true touchstones df a r t i s t i c a p p r e c i a t i o n . For the i d e a l i s t s the monumental form with i t s measured rhythms of l i n e and c o l o r was the great s t y l e and fresco the true medium. Fresco was assuredly not a middle-class s t y l e and most of the i d e a l i s t s e n t h u s i a s t i c a l l y undertook at l e a s t one f r e s c o — R o s s e t t i and Burne-Jones i n the Oxford Union* Leighton at Lyndhurst Church and the South Ken- sington Museum and G. F. Watts at Lincoln's Inn and L i t t l e Holland 72 House. But t h i s r e v i v a l of fresco painting posed more problems than could be s u c c e s s f u l l y overcome. There were the purely t e c h n i c a l aspects of fresco; fresco was an a l i e n technique and a r t i s t s * conditioned to the f u l l - b o d i e d c o l o r of o i l s and the transparency of water-colors* were often d i s s a t i s f i e d with the f l a t colors of f r e s c o . Permanence of c o l o r was a l s o a problem* as Rossetti discovered* as was composing subject matter complementary to the f l a t colors and form of fresco, and the large spaces which the work must occupy. Overcoming these pro- blems required extensive experimentation above a l l else* but nowhere i n V i c t o r i a n England was there a f i e l d f o r such experimentation. The economics of the a r t world f r u s t r a t e d the hopes of the i d e a l i s t s . Fresco p a i n t i n g was f a r more expensive both i n time and materials than o i l or water -color* and i t required a great amount of wall-space and a correspondingly large g a l l e r y . Enough l i g h t had to f a l l on the fresco to l i g h t e n i t s f l a t c o l o r f o r the work to be a e s t h e t i c a l l y successful. In subject*, material and s t y l e * fresco was too c o l d and monumental to s a t i s f y the c u l t u r a l needs of the middle-classes who would not commission such works. And i t was too permanent; though not 76 impossible, i t was d i f f i c u l t and expensive to move, and there was no 73 market for contemporary fresco as there was for o i l paintings. There was an alternative to an art market controlled by the middle-classes and that was the establishment of government patronage. The aristocracy was no longer a significant force i n the art market although they appear to have supported the few sculptors of the midw V i c t o r i a n period.^ But i t was conceivable to some a r t i s t s that their influence i n government might make government a wise and disinterested patron of the arts. The idea was old by the 1860's. Haydon had cam- paigned for government patronage and the scheme for decorating the 715 Houses of Parliament was hailed as a great triumph for the arts. Government patronage was attractive for many reasons—government had money and during the I8501s and i860 1s i t was doing a great deal of building. Public buildings were a natural place for fresco paintings expressing national greatness and government would certainly approve the patriotic and educative value of such art work. Yet for different reasons, i n the eyes of the new a r t i s t s , government proved to be as unsatisfactory a patron as the middle-classes i f not more so. The government had money but i t was unwilling to spend more than necessary; decoration was usually minimal. The cheapness of government frustrated architects as well as a r t i s t s and there was nothing so indicative of this frustration as a comparison of the proposed plans for a building and the finished building—what grandeur beat i n the heart of the small 76 shells of Victorian buildings. [Figures 20 and 21] By the 1860's the government's shortcomings were a l l too evident. Even the decora- tion of the Houses of Parliament embittered a r t i s t s and Maclise com- Figure 20 - 7 9 77 plained that he could not get paid f o r h i s work. There were a l t e r n a t i v e s to the free a r t market besides government patronage—the patronage of business and the Church. Both o f f e r e d opportunities f o r fresco but the expenditures required f o r fresco were too great. When Watts o f f e r e d to decorate Euston S t a t i o n with frescoes f o r the costs of the materials alone, the managers of the London and North-Western Railway r e l u c t a n t l y refused because the cost 78 of s c a f f o l d i n g alone was p r o h i b i t i v e . Leighton's fresco i n Lyndhurst Church was a donation. Unfortunately by the 1 8 6 0's the work of good a r t i s t s was generally so valuable that only o i l and water-color p a i n t i n g were economically f e a s i b l e f o r a r t i s t and buyer. And what was true of fresco was generally true of monumental sculpture as w e l l . Unlike F r i t h or M i l l a i s who accepted and worked comfortably within the economic boundaries of the a r t world, the i d e a l i s t s had attempted, i n the name of a r t , to expand those boundaries and found they could not do i t . By the l a t e 1 8 6 0's the r i s e of i d e a l i s t a r t i n V i c t o r i a n England had created a new consciousness of a r t . W. M. Rossetti i n 1867 spoke of decorative a r t as opposed to p i c t o r i a l or s t r i c t l y representational 79 a r t as the highest form of a r t . C r i t i c s as well as a r t i s t s recognized i n t h i s new s t y l e the claims of a purely a r t i s t i c manner of expression. There was an e x p l i c i t acceptance of the a r t i s t i c license of arrangement and s e l e c t i o n of nature. Separate from nature and more noble, a r t had 8 o i t s own laws and truths. In the l a t e 1 8 6 0's the word "aesthetic" began to appear more frequently i n c r i t i c a l writings to d i s t i n g u i s h the purely formal a t t r i b u t e s of a work from i t s e t h i c a l or narrative q u a l i t i e s , and to denote the rules of form, c o l o r and s t y l e which excluded moral and -80 ..intellectual considerations. Walter Pater* W. M. Rossetti and several anonymous c r i t i c s used the term, but not to denote a school, merely a 81 way of looking at a r t . The idea that these a e s t h e t i c q u a l i t i e s were more t r u l y a r t i s t i c l e d c r i t i c s i n the l a t e 1870's to state that a e s t h e t i c excessed were more forgivable, because more true to a r t , than the excesses of sentimental n a r r a t i v e . As the Saturday Review observed: We have no great love f o r the vagaries of what i s c a l l e d the a e s t h e t i c school, and f i n d i t d i f f i c u l t to understand or approve [ t h e i r ] enthusiasm... But the extravagances i n t o which the c u l t i v a t o r s of the a e s t h e t i c sometimes f a l l have t h e i r o r i g i n at l e a s t i n an a r t i s t i c f e e l i n g , i n a desire f o r something higher than the s p i r i t which i s prepared to turn out p i c t u r e s as a boot-maker turns out boots. And that there i s the l e a s t tinge of true f e e l i n g f o r a r t i n such productions as gljhe Road to Ruin" can hardly be urged with any show of reason. "Aesthetic" was an o l d word but i t served the 1870's b e t t e r than i t had the 1850's. There was a decided antipathy between i d e a l i s t s and mid-Victorian a r t i s t s but they never came to an open break i n the 1860's. They never r e a l l y r e a l i z e d where the boundary lay between them. I t was not so much what they had i n common, but rather the ambiguity of t h e i r own p o s i t i o n s i n r e l a t i o n s h i p to each other. No issue arose to i l l u m i n a t e t h e i r differences and the r h e t o r i c of a r t with i t s l i m i t e d categories obscured t h e i r d i f f e r e n t aims and methods. M i l l a i s , whose a t t i t u d e s and s t y l e were pre-dominately mid-Victorian, was l i n k e d with the i d e a l i s t s through h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p with Rossetti and because of h i s s t y l e , which was often as decorative as T i s s o t ' s or Moore's. Leighton, one of the foremost of the i d e a l i s t s , by v i r t u e of h i s imjpeccable s t y l e and ambi- tions, entered the Academy and l o y a l l y defended the i n s t i t u t i o n which Watts and Burne-Jones d i s l i k e d . - Watts himself was so thorough an i n d i v i - 81 dua-l-i-s-t—i-n-his a r t that he had few s t y l i s t i c s i m i l a r i t i e s with e i t h e r the n e o - c l a s s i c i s t s or the neo-medievalists, and although he c r i t i c i z e d the Academy i n 1863 before a Parliamentary commission, he became an Academician i n 1867* Of c r i t i c a l importance was the a b i l i t y of the Academy to b r i n g many of the i d e a l i s t s i n t o i t s ranks, to divide the i d e a l i s t s before the i d e a l i s t s divided the a r t world. And there was common ground between i d e a l i s t and mid-Victorian. Their s t y l e s both showed a t t e n t i o n to natural d e t a i l , c a r e f u l f i n i s h and a concern f o r i n t e r e s t i n g subjects. They both Relieved i n the seriousness of the a r t i s t i c profession, the t r u t h of the a r t i s t i c heritage of the I t a l i a n and Dutch schools, the necessity of s t r i c t t r a i n i n g and high standards, and the duty of the a r t i s t to embody a e s t h e t i c and e t h i c a l values i n h i s work. The i d e a l i s t a r t consciousness arose beside that of the mid-Victorian and a r t i s t s and c r i t i c s who accepted idealism tended to see i t as a refinement, a development of the mid- V i c t o r i a n a r t consciousness. Idealism might have overtaken and gradually o b l i t e r a t e d mid-Victorian a t t i t u d e s , as i t appeared to be doing, but t h i s t r a n s i t i o n was interrupted and f u r t h e r confused by a t h i r d and r a d i c a l l y d i f f e r e n t view of a r t — - t h a t of the American a r t i s t , James Whistler, who s e t t l e d i n England i n i 8 6 0 . Whistler's a r t i s t i c t r a i n i n g was not very d i f f e r e n t from that of other V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t s . He drew maps f o r the United States Coastal Survey before he f i n a l l y decided to study a r t . Then he went to P a r i s where he studied i n Gleyre's a t e l i e r with Poynter, Du Maurier and Armstrong. He met Gustave Courbet and was f o r awhile influenced by h i s r e a l i s t s t y l e , but-more s i g n i f i c a n t f o r Whistler's development 82' than h i s P a r i s i a n t r a i n i n g was h i s c u l t u r a l heritage as an American. Whistler was a thorough i n d i v i d u a l i s t . To him the attempts of the mid-Victorians to r e l a t e a r t d i r e c t l y to the emotional and s o c i a l l i f e of the period was nonsense. And the i d e a l i s t s ' attempts to restore a r t to i t s exalted place i n the world was equally absurd. The s o c i a l and c u l t u r a l a s s o c i a t i o n s of V i c t o r i a n a r t meant nothing to Whistler and he saw a r t and the a r t i s t as i s o l a t e d phenomena. Whistler was a democrat but not one such as William Morris whose democracy reached out i n t o the whole community of humanity; Whistler's democracy was that which cared f o r i n d i v i d u a l i n t e g r i t y , f o r r i g h t s and freedoms, and was drawn out of the pervasive c u l t u r a l myth of the lone American. For Whistler a r t expressed i n d i v i d u a l genius rather than a s o c i a l s p i r i t or sentiment. When someone suggested to him l a t e i n l i f e that the work of M i l l e t , the French a r t i s t , suffered from the s t r a i n of marital and f i n a n c i a l problems, Whistler disagreed: You're wrong—an a r t i s t ' s work i s never b e t t e r , never worse, i t must be always good, i n the end as i n the beginning, i f he i s an a r t i s t , i f i t i s i n him to do anything at a l l . He would not be influenced by the chanceogf a wife or anything of that kind. He i s always the a r t i s t . Whistler was the f i r s t unabashed modern i n E n g l i s h f i n e a r t , and h i s s t y l e and a t t i t u d e s eventually p r e c i p i t a t e d a c r i s i s which f i n a l l y i l l u m i n a t e d so many of the problems and contradictions of the a r t world. Whistler's f i r s t exhibited works i n England were At the Piano and Wapping. The f i r s t was a p o r t r a i t of h i s s t e p - s i s t e r and her daughter, and the second a view of the r i v e r s i d e . P o r t r a i t u r e and riverscapes were h i s most important E n g l i s h subjects and these f i r s t attempts were noticed and praised by c r i t i c s who recognized i n Whistler -8-3- an admirable c o l o r i s t with an eye f o r form. Some complained of h i s lack of f i n i s h but Whistler had learned that f i n i s h was subordinate to c o l o r and form along with Poynter and Armstrong. He was therefore 85 accepted as a decorative a r t i s t by W. M. Rossetti and Sidney C o l v i n . The f i r s t s i g n i f i c a n t attack by an E n g l i s h c r i t i c of Whistler's work came i n 1863 when Whistler's The White G i r l was e x h i b i t e d at the Salon des Refuses i n P a r i s . [Figure 22] The Academy had rejected i t the year before and when i t hung i n P a r i s , P. G. Hamerton wrote: I watched several p a r t i e s , to see the impression "The Woman i n White" made on them. They a l l stopped i n s t a n t l y , struck with amazement. This f o r two or three seconds, then they a l l looked at each other and laughed. Here,g£or once, I happen to be quite of the popular way of thinking. Whistler d i d not forgive i n j u r i e s , however, and soon struck out at the prejudice i n E n g l i s h a r t which he b e l i e v e d b l i n d e d c r i t i c s and other viewers to the very great t e c h n i c a l merits h i s works demonstrated— the preoccupation with subject. Well, you know, i t was t h i s way, when I came to London I was received graciously by the painters. Then there was t h i s coldness and I could not understand. A r t i s t s locked themselves up i n t h e i r studios—opened t h e i r doors only on the chain; i f they met each other i n the s t r e e t they barely spoke. Models went round s i l e n t , with an a i r of mystery—... Then I found out the mystery: i t was the moment of p a i n t i n g the Royal Academy p i c t u r e . Each man was a f r a i d h i s subject might be s t o l e n . I t was the great era of the subject. And, a t l a s t , on Varnishing Day, there was the subject i n a l l i t s glory—wonderful! The B r i t i s h subject! Like a f l a s h the i n s p i r a t i o n came—the I n v e n t o r ! — and i n the Academy there you saw him...he sat, hands on knees, head bent, brows k n i t , eyes s t a r i n g ; i n a corner angels and cogwheels, and things; close to him h i s wife, cold, ragged, the baby i n her arms—he had f a i l e d ! the story was t o l d — i t was c l e a r as day—amazing!—the B r i t i s h subject! Yet Whistler's quarrel was not p r i m a r i l y with narrative a r t or even the " B r i t i s h subject." The White G i r l was a p e r f e c t l y good subject Figure 22 ) 8 5 pi-ece-andone c r i t i c thought i t an i l l u s t r a t i o n of Wilkie C o l l i n s ' 88 The Woman i n White. The r e a l quarrel between Whistler and the V i c t o r i a n s was over the sentimental character required of a subject work. An American c r i t i c had complained of the "souless eyes" of The 89 White G i r l . In V i c t o r i a n a r t i t was "de rigueur" to represent the s p i r i t as well as the body and i n breaking with t h i s convention, Whistler demonstrated h i s s t y l i s t i c radicalism. P o r t r a i t u r e was a l s o an area where Whistler and V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t s disagreed. His most famous p o r t r a i t s , those of h i s mother and of Thomas C a r l y l e , he c a l l e d Arrangements i n Black and Grey. Whistler s a i d of h i s mother's p o r t r a i t , "To me i t i s i n t e r e s t i n g as a p o r t r a i t of my mother but what can or ought the public to care about the i d e n t i t y 90 of the p o r t r a i t ? " G. F. Watts, an e n t h u s i a s t i c p o r t r a i t i s t of great p e r s o n a l i t i e s , disagreed. "A p o r t r a i t , " he said, "should have something i n i t of the monumental; i t i s the summary of the l i f e of a person, not 91 the record of a c c i d e n t a l p o s i t i o n or arrangement of l i g h t and shadow." Whistler's a r t was m i l i t a n t l y "aesthetic" as he p e r s i s t e n t l y rejected the p i c t o r i a l primacy of character and s p i r i t , so much so that many of h i s p o r t r a i t s were s t i f f and belabored. Despite these disagreements, Whistler's beauty of form and c o l o r s t i l l communicated to the V i c t o r i a n s and though he was often c r i t i c i z e d f o r h i s sketchy handling and b i z a r r e subjects, c r i t i c s continued to f i n d something b e a u t i f u l i n h i s work. Mr. Whistler's work i n h i s p e c u l i a r l i n e can no longer surprise us, and i f to be e c c e n t r i c i s one of the painter's objects, he would do well to consider the propriety of astonishing the the world by p a i n t i n g l i k e an ordinary mortal. At the same time we must confess we have been equally surprised and pleased by f i n d i n g among Mr. Whistler's c o l l e c t i o n of c u r i o s i t i e s one 86- production which, under the name of a.nocturne, or an arrangement or a p i z z i c a t o , presents a sketchy view of the Thames at n i g h t f a l l which i s neither unnatural nor unpleasing. We may of course be wrong i n our notion of what the work i s intended to represent.-' The V i c t o r i a n s did not take Whistler s e r i o u s l y and although many respected h i s merits as an a r t i s t , few believed that Whistler's s t y l e or h i s a t t i t u d e s towards a r t posed a serious challenge to the i d e a l i s t s , who by the mid-1870's were already the p r e v a i l i n g force i n the a r t world. But Whistler had h i s colleagues and d i s c i p l e s , and though t h e i r „ influence was unorganized and barely v i s i b l e , , i t tended i n one d i r e c t i o n — the destruction of sentiment i n a r t . The d i s t i n c t i o n between Whistler's a r t and mid-Victorian a r t was always very c l e a r , but the p o s i t i o n of the i d e a l i s t s i n t h i s matter was not. Leighton and Burne-Jones were l e d by t h e i r love of design to f i n d merit i n Whistler's work, and yet they s t i l l b e l i e v e d that great a r t required character as well as beauty. They seemed to stand i n between. But a l i n e a r conception of t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p s cannot ade- quately describe them. The a r t world of the mid-1870's had become f a r too f l u i d . I t was not only that these three major groups of a r t i s t s were never organized, and thus never presented a single face to any problem; the problems themselves constantly changed forms. A r t repre- sented, i n general and i n a l l i t s concrete forms, ideas. The three major s t y l e s of the 1860's and 1870's expressed d i f f e r e n t ideas of beauty, of t r u t h , of humanity. And yet the forms through which these ideas could be expressed, i n l i t e r a t u r e and painting, were so l i m i t e d that s i m i l a r forms expressed very d i f f e r e n t ideas." The great c r i s i s came i n the 1870's and l e d to that comic opera 87 which—was-the-aesthetic movement. None of the three views of a r t were very c l e a r , and none of them i n themselves could solve the problems which threatened the s t a b i l i t y of the a r t world. Ideas were powerful enough to raise expectations, to i n s p i r e l o y a l t i e s and create a n t i p a t h i e s , and generally to make i t d i f f i c u l t f o r e x i s t i n g circumstances to s a t i s f y a r t i s t s and a r t - l o v e r s . Problems such as the s o c i a l role of a r t i s t s , the value of t h e i r works, the r e l a t i o n s h i p between a r t i s t s and t h e i r patrons, and the meaning of a r t and a r t works i n the d a i l y l i v e s of d i f f e r e n t classes and conditions could not be resolved without s e t t l i n g the circumstances which d i r e c t l y a f f e c t e d these problems. The new a t t i t u d e s d i d not a l t e r these circumstances, nor d i d the e x i s t i n g i n s t i t u t i o n s modify them. In the 1 8 7 0's the i d e a l i s t conception of a r t could no longer obscure the f a c t that the organization of the a r t world within V i c t o r i a n society d i d not correspond to i t s i d e a l s . The divergence of what was from what ought to be created a tension which a f f e c t e d a l l asipects of the a r t world as a r t i s t s could r e l i n q u i s h neither the r e a l world or the i d e a l . Por the f i r s t time a r t i s t s began to struggle b i t t e r l y among themselves and against circumstances i n order to preserve t h e i r i d e a l of a r t as well as the e x i s t i n g s o c i a l organiza- t i o n which made them respectable and r i c h . Whistler alone cared nothing f o r t h i s struggle and h i s actions i l l u m i n a t e d the c r i t i c a l state of the a r t world i n the 1 8 7 0's. '88 FOOTNOTES 'Grana, Modernity and i t s Discontents, x i i i - x i v . 2 Besides the august f o r t y of the Academy i n whose footsteps M i l l a i s followed, t h e i r were several well-known a r t i s t s i n t h e i r time who l i v e d without Academic patronage, as Rossetti did, i n c l u d i n g Benjamin Robert Haydon, John Martin and John L i n n e l l . L i n n e l l was f i n a l l y e l e c t e d A.R.A. i n 1867, but he declined to accept (unlike Burne-Jones who accepted e l e c t i o n i n 1885)• According to the A r t Journal, VI (1867), 114* having f i n a l l y achieved success without Academic patronage, he would not i n h i s old age enter that body. For Haydon's career see E r i c George, The L i f e and Death of Benjamin Robert Haydon, H i s t o r i c a l Painter 1786-1846 (Oxford, 1967), and f o r Martin see Mary L. Pendered, John Martin, Painter. His L i f e and Times (New York, 1924). ^Sidney G. Hutchinson, The History of the Royal Academy 1768-1968 (New York, 1968), 32. Hutchinson's i s the best h i s t o r y of the Academy a v a i l a b l e but i s too b r i e f . Other h i s t o r i e s include J . E. Hodgson and F. A. Eaton, The Royal Academy and i t s Members, 1768-1830 (London, 1905)* Charles Holme, ed., The Royal Academy from Reynolds to M i l l a i s (New York, 1904)* Walter Lamb, The Royal Academy (London, 1951) and G. D. L e s l i e , The Inner L i f e of the Royal Academy (London, 1914)• 4 Hutchinson, 43. The a r t i s t s who signed were Benjamin West, Francesco Z u c c a r e l l i , Nathanial Dance, Richard Wilson, George Michael Moser, Samual Wale, G. Baptis. C i p r i a n i [ s i c ] , Jeremiah Meyer, Angelica Kauffman, Charles Catton, Francesco B a r t o l o z z i , Richard Yeo, Mary Moser, Agostino C a r l i n i , Francis Cotes, William Chambers, Edward Penny, Joseph Wilton, George Barret, Fra. Milner Newton, Paul Sandby and Francis Hayman. Conspicuously abesent i s Joshua Reynolds, the f i r s t P.R.A. Because of the r i v a l r y of another group of a r t i s t s , Reynolds hesitated before he accepted e l e c t i o n as President of the Academy. See Hutchinison, 44-6. 5 The Instrument of Foundation .is contained i n Hutchinson, 209-13. For changes i n the Council see Hutchinson, 78,132,145-6. 6 I b i d , 78-8O. 7 M i l l a i s , one of the most precocious of E n g l i s h a r t i s t s , painted h i s f i r s t e x h i b i t i o n piece, Pizarro S i e z i n g the Inca of Peru, when only 16. J . G. M i l l a i s , The L i f e and Letters of S i r John Everett M i l l a i s (London, 1900), 9* i l l u s t r a t i o n f a c i n g 16. g Hutchinson, 93-112. W. P. F r i t h , My Autobiography and Reminis- cences (London, 1889), 38. M. S. Watts, George Frederic Watts: The Annals of an A r t i s t ' s L i f e (New York, 1912), I, 25-6. 9 There were several of these exceptions i n c l u d i n g Frederic Leighton, 89 Edward Burne-Jones and James Whistler, but D. G. Rossetti, Edward Poynter and A l b e r t Moore a l l studied at the Academy f o r a period. ""^Hutchinson, 132. 11 Por Barry, Ibid, 78-80. Por Haydon,v see B. R. Haydon, The Autobiography and Memoirs of Benjamin Robert Haydon 1768-1846, ed. Tom Taylor (New York, 196277 2 v o l s . 1 2 Hutchinson, 56. 13 Great B r i t a i n , Report from the Select Committee on A r t s and t h e i r Connexion with Manufactures; With Minutes of the Evidence, Ap- pendix and Index, H.C., 1936 (568), IX, 209-343. See a l s o Hutchinson, 93-102. 14 ^ M i l l a i s , 6. 15 J F r i t h , 21-37* and M i l l a i s , 6-7. See also Stuart Macdonald, The History and Philosophy of A r t Education (London, 1970), 33. 1 6 Geoffrey Holme, ed., The Norwich School (London, 1920). 17 Barrington, Leighton, I, 191* and below, .,58-9. 18 Du Maurier wrote a f i c t i o n a l account of these student days c a l l e d T r i l b y (New York, 1927) i n which t h e i r student l i f e was roman- t i c i z e d . 19 Barrington, I, 295. 20 G. H. Fleming, Rossetti and the Pre-Raphaelite Brotherhood (London, 1967)* 12-3, 100. The e x h i b i t i o n was free neither f o r viewers, who paid the customary s h i l l i n g admission, nor f o r a r t i s t s , who had to rent wall-space. 21 I t i s true that Rossetti r a r e l y exhibited a f t e r I 8 5 O due to the h o s t i l e reception of h i s Ecce A n c i l l a Domini!, see W. M. Rossetti, Dante Gabriel Rossetti as Designer and Writer (London, 1889), 12-5, 45-6, hut he p r o f i t e d from h i s few e x h i b i t i o n s and the notoriety of the Pre-Raphaelites. 22 Hutchinson, 85* and Hesketh Hubbard, A Hundred Years of B r i t i s h P a i n t i n g (1851-1951) (London, 1951), 64-5. 23 The press reviewed most of the major e x h i b i t i o n s i n c l u d i n g those at the Academy, the B r i t i s h I n s t i t u t i o n , the Dudley G a l l e r y and l a t e r , the Grovsner G a l l e r y . "Whistler's White G i r l hung i n the Berners Street Gallery, see Pennell, Whistler, 69-70. 9 Q - 24 r, In 1830, the hanging committee a c c i d e n t l y rejected one of Constable's paintings as i t had been reviewed with some outsiders' works. They wished to change t h e i r decision, but Constable would not allow i t saying that i t had properly been rejected as a daub. Hutchinson, 95 • 25 For a catalogue of e x h i b i t o r s , t h e i r works and the year exhibited, see Algernon Graves, The Royal Academy of A r t s ; A Complete Dictionary of Contributors and t h e i r Work from i t s Foundation i n 1769 to.1904 (London, 1905-6), 8vols. Because the Academy was founded i n December 1768, the f i r s t e x h i b i t i o n was i n the spring of 1769. 26 Barfington, I, 45-6* M i l l a i s , 43, and Watts, I, 34. 2 7 B a r r i n g t o n , I, 272. 28 Watts, I, 32-3. 29 7 F r i t h , 22. 3°Macdonald, 30, 271-2, and Hubbard, 106-7. 31 Macdonald, 146-8. 32 Gerald R e i t l i n g e r , The Economics of Taste. The Rise and F a l l of Picture P r i c e s 1760-1960, I.(London, 1961), 143-60. 3 3 The P o r t f o l i o , I (1870), 110. 3 4 The Fine A r t s Quarterly Review, I (1863), 6. 35 For the "Clique" see P a t r i c i a A l l d e r i d g e , Richard Dadd (London, 1974)* 13* also, A r t Journal, XXXVII (1898), 202. 3 6 A r t Journal, VI (1867), 247. 3 7 I b i d . 38 For Ruskin's works, see John Ruskin, The Complete Works of John Ruskin, eds. E. T. Cook and Alexander Wedderburn (London, 1903), 39 v o l s . The most important c r i t i c a l writings by Ruskin on contemporary a r t are contained i n John Ruskin, Pre-Raphaelitism; Lectures on A r c h i - tecture and P a i n t i n g (London, 19O6). 39 ^Quentin B e l l , V i c t o r i a n A r t i s t s (Cambridge, Mass., 1967), 28-39. 40 Ruskin, Pre-Raphae1iti sm, 90, 212, 240, 281. 4 1 Ibid, 186. 9 1 - .... . 4 l " T h e P i c t u r e G a l l e r i e s , " T h e S a t u r d a y R e v i e w , X L V I ( 1 8 7 8 ) , 7 9 1 . 4 3 A r t J o u r n a l , V I ( 1 8 5 5 ) , 2 1 1 - 2 . 4 4 E x c e p t i o n s w e r e t h e f e w f r e s c o s , h i s t o r i c a l a n d a l l e g o r i c a l w o r k s a n d s o m e p o r t r a i t s w h i c h w e r e c o m m i s s i o n e d b y c o r p o r a t e b o d i e s . T h e s e r a r e l y h u n g i n t h e A c a d e m y , a n d g e n e r a l l y s p e a k i n g , w e r e n o t p r o f i t a b l e f o r a r t i s t s . 4 5 A r t J o u r n a l , V I ( 1 8 5 5 ) , 2 4 3 * F i n e A r t s Q u a r t e r l y , I ( 1 8 6 3 ) , 8 0 . W . M . R o s s e t t i , F i n e A r t , 3 4 - 5 * l a m e n t e d t h e p a u c i t y o f m o n u m e n t a l a r t d o n e i n s i t u . 1 9 2 . 4 ^ R u s k i n , P r e - R a p h a e 1 i t i s m , [The R e s c u e ! 1 8 9 , [ C i j n a b j i e _ J _ s M a d o n n a 1 4 7 W a t t s , I , 4 3 - 4 . 4 8 H F r i t h , 1 9 5 - 6 . 49 B a r r i n g t o n , I , 1 9 1 . 5 0 I b i d , 2 3 5 - 4 9 * a n d W i l l i a m G a u n t , V i c t o r i a n O l y m p u s ( N e w Y o r k , 1 9 5 2 ) , 5 9 . 5 1 A r t J o u r n a l , X X ( 1 8 8 1 ) , 2 7 . 5 2 W . M . R o s s e t t i , F i n e A r t , 9 4 . 5 3 - ^ B a r r i n g t o n , I , 1 0 9 . 5 4 L a d y B u r n e - J o n e s , M e m o r i a l s , I , 5 8 - 9 * 5 5 B a r r i n g t o n , I , 1 6 6 . 5 6 L a d y B u r n e - J o n e s , I , 4 8 . 5 7 B a r r i n g t o n , I , 7 3 . 5 8 I b i d , 1 5 5 - 6 , 1 9 1 , 2 8 3 . S e e a l s o , E r n e s t R h y s , F r e d e r i c , L o r d L e i g h t o n ( L o n d o n , 1 8 9 8 ) , 6 2 , L a d y B u r n e - J o n e s , I I , 8 8 . F o r W h i s t l e r ' s a t t i t u d e t o w a r d s s e a r c h i n g o u t d e l i b e r a t e d i f f i c u l t i e s , s e e W e i n t r a u b , W h i s t l e r , 2 1 1 . 5 9 R h y s , 1 1 8 . 6 ° I b i d , 7 3 . 6 1 R e i t l i n g e r , T h e R i s e a n d F a l l o f P i c t u r e P r i c e s , 1 4 3 - 6 0 . 9 2 ^^Barrington, „II, 3 3 1 • 6 3 W. M. Rossetti, Fine Art, 2 . ^ 4 F r i t h , 7 6 . F r i t h d i d not l i k e c o l l e c t o r s because of t h e i r unpredictable demands and tastes and t h e i r i n a b i l i t y to assess the value of a r t i s t i c work. r.See F r i t h , 9 4 - 5 * 6 ^ F i n e Arts Quarterly, I ( 1 8 6 3 ) , 1 , 5 . 6 6 M i l l a i s , 3 8 , 5 5 , 8 0 . 6 7 ' F r i t h , 1 7 3 , 1 9 5 - 3 6 9 6 8 M i l l a i s , 5 1 , 8 0 - 1 , and Art Journal, I ( 1 8 5 7 ) , . 1 7 0 . 'Barrington, I, 6 6 . 7 0 A. Lys Baldry, Three Great Modern Painters. Leighton. Whistler. Burne-Jones (London, 1 9 0 8 ) , 4 4 - 8 , 5 5 - 6 , 6 7 - 8 . 7 1 M i l l a i s , 8 1 . 72 Hubbard, 9 6 - 8 , Barrington, I I , 1 0 4 - 8 , Watts, I, 1 3 5 - 6 , 2 9 0 . 7 3 Watts, I, 2 9 0 - 3 . 7 4 L. G. G. Ramsey, The Connoisseur New Guide to E n g l i s h P a i n t i n g and Sculpture (London, 1 9 6 2 T , 1 1 7 - 2 0 , A r t Journal, VI (I855), 1 2 8 - 3 0 , l i s t s the owners of the sculpture sent to the Paris International E x h i - b i t i o n of 1 8 5 5 . Compared with the owners of the paintings, there i s a large number of peers who owned sculpture i n 1 8 5 5 * 75 Haydon wanted government patronage more from hatred of the Academy than from f a i t h i n government as a wise patron. See Haydon, I* 5 9 5 * 6 2 0 - 1 . 7 6 John Summerson, V i c t o r i a n A r c h i t e c t u r e . Four Studies i n Evaluation (New York, 1 9 7 0 ) , 7 7 - 1 1 7 . 7 7 A r t Journal, VI ( 1 8 6 7 ) , 2 8 . Government patronage was d i s c r e d i t e d e a r l y and never regained favor as an a l t e r n a t i v e to the free market. See Fine A r t s Quarterly, I ( 1 8 6 3 ) * 3 4 . 7 8 Watts, I, 2 9 0 - 3 . 7 9 W. M. Rossetti, Fine Art, v i i i - i x . fto The Magazine of Art, I ( 1 8 7 8 ) , 6 2 , Rhys, 2 5 . -9.3 81 .*a.npn.,._ '_'The Present P o s i t i o n of Landscape Painting i n England," The C o r n h i l l Magazine, XI (March, 1865), 14, anon., "Art and Morality," The C o r n h i l l Magazine, XXXII (July, 1875), 97. In h i s a r t i c l e on Morris' poetry i n 1868, [Walter Pater], "Poems by William Morris," The Westminster and Foreign Quarterly Review, XXXIV (1868), 300-12, Pater d i d not use the word "aesthetic". In h i s Renaissance of 1873* he described h i s kind of c r i t i c i s m as "aesthetic" c r i t i c i s m and i n the r e p r i n t of h i s Westmister Review a r t i c l e i n h i s Sketches and Reviews the a r t i c l e was r e t i t l e d "Aesthetic Poetry." 82 anon., "The Picture G a l l e r i e s , " The Saturday Review, XLVI (1878), 561. 8 3 P e n n e l l , 31-53. 8 4 I b i d , 405. 85 W. M. Rossetti, Some Reminiscences, I, 182, I I , 317* 86 C i t e d i n Pennell, 74. 8 7 I b i d , 58. 0 0 Ibid, 70. 89 7 l b i d , 100 90 7 I b i d , 119. 91 C i t e d i n Jeremy Maas, V i c t o r i a n Painters (London, 1969)* 219« 92 anon., "The Picture G a l l e r i e s , " The Saturday Review, XLVI (1878), 561. 94 The a r t world of the mid-1870's i n England was f l u i d and confused, where u n c e r t a i n t i e s and anxiety plagued a l l hut the most complacent. A r t i s t s were faced with the challenges of new s t y l e s ; c r i t i c s were s e r i o u s l y questioning t h e i r own a t t i t u d e s towards modern a r t and the value of t h e i r c r i t i c i s m . ^ The only thing lacking f o r a true c r i s i s was an incident of s u f f i c i e n t proportions. The inso.luable problem prompting the widespread anxiety was that of s e t t l i n g the s o c i a l r o l e of the a r t i s t , e s t a b l i s h i n g one which the a r t i s t d i d not despise and yet which d i d not disrupt the s o c i a l organization. That the o l d s o c i a l r o l e s which a r t i s t s had f i l l e d were no longer v i a b l e Whistler ably demonstrated i n h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p s with h i s patrons and c r i t i c s . But t h i s major problem was f o r a long time held i n abeyance by the f i n a n c i a l success of a r t i s t s and by the a b i l i t y of the Royal Academy to pose as a s o l u t i o n . Yet t h i s major problem spawned others which were not ob- scure: the r e l a t i o n s h i p of a r t i s t s and patrons, the role of c o l l e c t o r s i n the a r t market, determining the value of a r t i s t i c work, separating monetary concerns from a e s t h e t i c concerns, and d e f i n i n g the boundaries of c r i t i c i s m i n a world where c r i t i c i s m a f f e c t e d market value. These problems eventually t r i g g e r e d an incident of s u f f i c i e n t proportions to create a c r i s i s , the l i b e l a c t i o n taken by Whistler against Ruskin, and a l s o made possible the a e s t h e t i c euphoria of the l a t e 1870's and e a r l y 1880's. By the mid-1870's the o l d problems of the a r t market and t h e i r e f f e c t s on a r t were becoming c r i t i c a l . As e a r l y as 1867 the A r t Journal had condemned the disastrous e f f e c t s of competition i n the awarding of government commissions by open contest. Instead of a r t i s t i c p e r f e c t i o n ^ 9 5 and f i t n e s s * "the competitors have s t r i v e n f o r o r i g i n a l i t y as a condition 2 of success i n the competition..." In 1881 a f t e r the triumph of the new a r t consciousness of the i d e a l i s t s * the Art Journal extended t h i s p r i n c i p l e to picture e x h i b i t i o n s : Another p r o l i f i c cause of perverted aims i n A r t i s to be found i n the competition of a t t r a c t i o n on the walls of picture g a l l e r i e s . The necessity of p a i n t i n g up to e x h i b i t i o n pitch* and the tempta- t i o n to endeavour to outshine one's n e i g h b o u r l y s t a r t l i n g contrasts or mere b r i l l i a n c y of colour* have induced a meretri- cious showiness i n modern A r t . . . These problems of competition involved more than the a r t market but the market remained the model demonstrating the perverse e f f e c t s of anarchic competition. However* the a r t market was d i s t i n c t l y d i f f e r e n t from the i n d u s t r i a l or a g r i c u l t u r a l markets i n which standard commodities were interchangeable; the e n t i r e character of the a r t market depended on the f a c t that i n d i v i d u a l and unique items were traded. I n d i v i d u a l i t y and uniqueness had been important to the a r t patron* but they were e s s e n t i a l to the a r t c o l l e c t o r . The d i s t i n c t i o n between patron and c o l l e c t o r i s d i f f i c u l t to pinpoint i n a c t u a l p e r s o n a l i t i e s ; Frederick Leyland was probably more of a c o l l e c t o r than a patron* although he was generous and encouraging to several young a r t i s t s . But i n general terms the d i s t i n c t i o n i s evident. Patronage and c o l l e c t i n g s a t i s f y two d i f f e r e n t c u l t u r a l and psychological needs. Patronage involves a r e l a t i o n s h i p * u s u a l l y intended to b e n e f i t both people* which r e s u l t s i n the production of s p e c i f i c works. C o l l e c t i n g * a p e c u l i a r l y f a s c i n a t i n g and a d d i c t i v e past-time* a r i s e s from an acquisitiveness* u s u a l l y d i r e c t e d towards what i s r a r e — a r t works* stamps* china or antiques. The s a t i s f a c t i o n 96; of c o l l e c t i n g comes not from any human r e l a t i o n s h i p or creative pro- cess and only i n d i r e c t l y from the beauty of p a r t i c u l a r pieces. I t i s the c o l l e c t i o n i t s e l f * e s p e c i a l l y i t s completeness or the r a r i t y of the best pieces* and possession of i t which s a t i s f i e s . There had been c o l l e c t o r s i n England long before the 1870's. The fourth Marquess of Hertford i n the f i r s t part of V i c t o r i a ' s reign was a 4 good example of an a r t c o l l e c t o r . But i t i s probable that c o l l e c t i n g a r t works became a f a s c i n a t i o n f o r the wealthier classes i n England between i860 and 1880. The mania f o r blue and white p o r c e l a i n i n the 1860's suggests t h i s as does the r a p i d l y r i s i n g p r i c e s i n the picture market. In 1862 when the new copyright laws were passed* i t became i l l e g a l f o r an a r t i s t to reproduce or copy any work of h i s own i f he had disposed of the copyright, without the permission of the copyright holder. This was meant to protect c o l l e c t o r s . The Pennells, i n t h e i r biography of Whistler, described a man who was motivated to buy Whistler's etchings by the desire, having obtained a few of them casually, to complete h i s c o l l e c t i o n . The importance of the c o l l e c t o r i n the a r t market was i n h i s tendency to b i d compulsively, h i s willingness to pay anything f o r a p a r t i c u l a r obsession, thus d i s t o r t i n g -value. I f problems of value, competition and excessively high p r i c e s disturbed many V i c t o r i a n s , they r a r e l y fastened on the market mechanism i t s e l f as the root of the e v i l , rather i t was the ignorance, pride and avarice of c o l l e c t o r s . The e a r l y V i c t o r i a n s r a r e l y distinguished between the a r t i s t i c sense which created a r t and that which could merely appre- ciate i t . . Children were taught drawing not to become a r t i s t s but to appreciate the beauty of a r t . While the d i s t i n c t i o n between the a r t i s t 97 and connoisseur was that the former should be blessed with genius* t h e i r t r a i n i n g was similar—drawing* painting* studying the o l d masters and keeping i n close touch with one's a r t i s t i c contemporaries. A r t i s t s and connoisseurs spoke the same language and p a i n t i n g was an experience both had shared. Picture-buyers had always been p r i m a r i l y connoisseurs and behind the buying and s e l l i n g was a recognizable concept of value which blended both into p r i c e s and judgment of a r t i s t i c merit. When the c o l l e c t o r s entered the market* many of them relinquished the r e s p o n s i b i l i t y of judgment to c r i t i c s . And when the buyerswas evidently no longer motivated by a natural and sincere love of art* h i s r e a l motivations were suspect. F r i t h complained that buyers i n the 1870's were motivated by "the notion of investment" rather than a love of a r t . ^ Yet F r i t h ' s assessment cannot e x p l a i n the character of the a r t market of the 1870's and 1880's adequately. Surely many buyers were driven by the desire to r e a l i z e a large p r o f i t such as the man who r e - fused to l e t F r i t h copy a p a i n t i n g F r i t h had sold him because a f r i e n d 7 t o l d the buyer the o r i g i n a l would be worth l e s s i f a copy existed. But there was more to the desire to own paintings than simply that. Yet i n p a r t i c u l a r cases i t i s d i f f i c u l t to determine whether buyers were motivated by a love of a p a r t i c u l a r work* a love of a r t * a c o l l e c t i n g mania, or merely the hope to r e a l i z e a large p r o f i t . In the personality of Frederick Leyland, one of the wealthiest c o l l e c - tors of the V i c t o r i a n age, the patron and c o l l e c t o r merged, and Leyland's devotion to a r t i n i t s many forms was t r u l y magnificent. His home was decorated by some of the best designers of the period. 98r He bought paintings from Rossetti* Burne-Jones and Whistler and owned several o l d masters* i n c l u d i n g a B o t t i c e l l i . Leyland's home was a l a v i s h cocoon of a r t and he paid large sums f o r the p r i v i l e g e of g ownership. Yet even t h i s merchant prince found that value and p r i c e were not the same and h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p with Whistler during Whistler's decoration of the Peacock Room demonstrated a f a i l u r e of standards of value and a f a i l u r e of the patronage model. The f a i l u r e was Whistler's as well as Leyland's* but the incident i l l u s t r a t e d the changed role of the a r t i s t i n E n g l i s h s o c i e t y . Whistler desired to decorate Leyland*s dining room because h i s painting* La Princesse dj& Pays de Porcelaine* hung on the wall behind the head of the t a b l e . Leyland had engaged Thomas J e c k y l l to design the room using expensive yellow Spanish leather on the walls. The c o l o r of the leather and of the flowers painted on the leather clashed with the reds i n Whistler's work* and* anxious that h i s p a i n t i n g be spared 9 t h i s offense* Whistler asked to help decorate the room. Leyland agreed and l e f t town* leaving h i s room* and h i s home* i n Whistler's hands. Whistler took more time and spent more money than he had planned* but the room was* according to a l l accounts, a masterpiece of decorative a r t . During h i s work on the room, Whistler i n v i t e d dozens of people to see i t without consulting Leyland. When he was f i n i s h e d , he asked 1,000 quineas f o r h i s work. The cost of materials was tremendous, as Whistler had apparently used gold l e a f with abandon. Leyland was furious and paid the a r t i s t £ 1,000 instead, a reference to the customary d i s t i n c t i o n between the wages of a r t i s t s and tradesmen, the former paid i n guineas and the l a t t e r , in-pounds. Whistler vented h i s anger by drawing cartoons 99- ~of Leyland as the r i c h P h i l i s t i n e peacock b a t t l i n g a poor a r t i s t i c peacock and as a l o b s t e r i n a f r i l l e d s h i r t . He a l s o c a l l e d Leyland a parvenu which outraged Mrs. Leyland who overheard and ordered him out of the house. Leyland and Whistler were i r r e c o n c i l a b l e , yet Leyland d i d not a l t e r h i s Peacock Room i n amy way and when he sat down to dinner at the head of the table, he faced the peacock mural which was so l i k e Whistler's outrageous cartoon. Ostensibly a dispute over the p r i c e of the work, Leyland and Whistler quarreled over a more b i t t e r l y estranging issue as t h e i r l e t t e r s demonstrated. Leyland wrote to Whistler: You choose to begin an elaborate scheme of decoration without any reference to me u n t i l the work has progressed so f a r that I had no choice but to complete i t ; and i t i s r e a l l y too absurd that you should expect me to pay the exaggerated sum your vanity d i c t a t e d as i t s value.... There i s one consideration, indeed, which should have l e d you to form a more modest estimate of yourself, and that i s your t o t a l f a i l u r e to produce any serious work f o r so many y e a r s . — A t various times i n the l a s t eight or nine years you have received from me sums amounting to one thousand guineas f o r pictures, not one of which has ever been d e l i v e r e d . . . .at. th© time;.so many newspaper puffs of your work appeared, I f e l t deeply enough the h u m i l i a t i o n of having my name so prominently connected with that of a m̂ ,g who had de- generated i n t o nothing but an a r t i s t i c Barnum. Whistler r e p l i e d : I t i s p o s i t i v e l y sickening to think that I should have laboured to b u i l d up that exquisite Peacock Room f o r such a man to l i v e i n . You speak of your public p o s i t i o n before the World, and apparently forget that the World only knows you as the possessor of that work they have a l l admired and whose p r i c e you have refused to pay—... They quarreled over the p r i c e because they had two e n t i r e l y d i f f e r e n t views of the value of a r t and the.role of the a r t i s t . Leyland could a f f o r d to give Whistler commissions which Whistler took years to *100. begin and never finished* as long as the artist remained in the position of client. There was no risk to Leyland* financially* socially or psychologically* in this kind of patronage. But the Peacock Room involved more money than Leyland had already given Whistler for unfinished works and Leyland was not enthusiastic about the decoration. What was worse* Whistler had been the center of the affair* inviting people to Leyland1s home as i f i t were his own* and had made Leyland look ridiculous in the glare of publicity. This artist could no longer be patronized. The value of art was a tremendous problem in the 1870's and not only for Leyland and Whistler. Art was a popular enthusiasm; i t promised to sanctify life* to give i t a noble form and purpose. Several interpretations of the aesthetic movement have emphasized its relationship to Philistinism as glaring and extreme opposites. In the realm of manufactured art* this distinction was clearly expressed by Walter Gropius who saw aestheticism as a reaction to Philistinism. Our object was to permeate both types of mind; to liberate the creative artist from his otherworldliness and reintegrate him into the workaday world of realities; and at the same time to broaden and humanise the rigid* almost exclusively material mind of the business man. Our governing conception of the basic unity of a l l design in its relation to life* which in- formed a l l our work* was therefore in diametrical opposition to that of 'art for art's sake'* and the even more dangerous philosophy i t sprang from: business as an end in itself. Yet Gropius implied a distinction which could not have been true in the 1870's—that the artist and the businessman were two distinct personalities existing in separate individuals. Leyland and men like him accumulated wealth with a ferocious energy in business and 13 then spent i t extravagantly on-works of art. Materialism and aesthe- 1 0 1 t i c i s m informed the same p e r s o n a l i t y . A r t i s t s , too, had t h e i r business side. The successful ones knew how to please the market, whether i t was the popular one which bought engravings or a c i r c l e of p a r t i c u l a r patrons. They knew how to set p r i c e s , how much t h e i r own labor was worth to-them, and although they d i d not turn out a masterpiece a month, they u s u a l l y managed to produce "stunners" f o r the Academy e x h i b i t i o n i n spring. This c o n t r a d i c t i o n existed not as opposing, but as complementary forces i n the same person. P h i l i s t i n i s m was given a psychological explanation by Thorstein Veblen i n 1 9 1 8 : Accountancy i s the beginning of s t a t i s t i c s , and the price con- cept i s a type of the objective, impersonal, quantitative appre- hension of things. Coincidently, because they d i d not lend them- selves to t h i s f a c i l e rating, f a c t s that w i l l not admit of a quantitative statement and s t a t i s t i c a l handling decline i n men's esteem, considered as f a c t s , and tend i n some degree to lose the cogency which belongs to empirical r e a l i t y . They may even come to be discounted as being of a lower order of r e a l i t y or may even be denied f a c t u a l value. Yet t h i s depends on the "quantitative apprehension of things" pro- v i d i n g a s a t i s f y i n g view of r e a l i t y . I f r e a l i t y had grown vaguely unpleasant, as i t had i n the 1860's and 1870's to many observers, then those f a c t s which had ever eluded quantitative a n a l y s i s and d e s c r i p t i o n appeared i n a new l i g h t . They were now precious and f u l l of promise, but they retained t h e i r u n r e a l i t y . Indeed t h e i r u n r e a l i t y became t h e i r most important q u a l i t y . This element of fantasy was evident i n Burne-Jones who declared, "Of course imagining doesn't end with my work: I go on always i n that strange land that i s more 1 5 true than r e a l . " But Burne-Jones required more than imagination i n a r t works. He i n s i s t e d on good workmanship and f i n i s h . So other 102 a r t i s t s and"art-lovers indulged i n the f a n t a s t i c l i k e Watts and Ley land, but they a l l had a keen sense of material necessity as w e l l . The aesthetes caricatured by George Du Maurier i n Punch demonstrated how fantasy was without the counterweight of s o c i a l r e a l i t y . [Figures 23 and 24] Important and precious as a r t was, i t was not to be the guiding force i n l i f e , the end and aim of a l l e f f o r t , as Whistler seemed to think. Aestheticism was not a r e j e c t i o n of P h i l i s t i n i s m , i f P h i l i s t i n i s m meant a concern f o r material welfare and a u t i l i t a r i a n outlook. These things were so imbedded i n the routine of l i f e by 1870 that they could not be eradicated; they were never meant to be eradicated. Aestheticism was the complement of P h i l i s t i n i s m . Thus the attack on P h i l i s t i n i s m which mounted dramatically i n the 1870's and was marked by a f i e r c e r h e t o r i c , was p e c u l i a r l y i n e f f i c i e n t a n d i r e s t l e s s i n i t s aims. Competition was denounced and i n iQZlf with the opening of the Grovsner Gallery* a kind of non-competitive e x h i b i - t i o n was attempted. The e x h i b i t o r s were i n v i t e d to submit works by the owner, S i r Coutts Lindsay, a banker. The g a l l e r i e s themselves were decorated with plants and b e a u t i f u l f u r n i t u r e and the walls were covered with a red damask. Because the e x h i b i t o r s were l i m i t e d by i n v i t a t i o n , they were hung on the l i n e with reasonable i n t e r v a l s between them. The Grovsner was a great success and quickly became the "other" summer e x h i b i t i o n , challenging the Academy's monopoly of modern a r t e x h i b i t i o n s . This opening i n 1877* however, caused c o n f l i c t s between a r t i s t s and c r i t i c s who professed a hatred f o r P h i l i s t i n e s . Watts thought the red 17 damask a perfect ground f o r h i s paintings, and Whistler hated them. Ruskin hated Whistler's-paintings. C r i t i c s complained that the general 1 0 3 D I L E T T A N T I S M . • J S T " ™ ™ 1 8 « » C » « r I N F A C T D 8 S*™^™. ^ ^ M O R E ^ ^ ^ ^ Figure 24 105 p u b l i c went to the e x h i b i t i o n s because i t was a s o c i a l duty* " l i k e 18 leaving cards a f t e r dining out," not out of any love f o r a r t . The truth of the matter was that the Grovsner had not solved the problem of competition i n e x h i b i t i o n s ; i t had never been a competition. The i n v i t a t i o n of e x h i b i t o r s was hardly a s o l u t i o n which the Academy could use. Not even the Grovsner could keep i t up and by the mid - 1 8 8 0 ' s, the G a l l e r y had faded to rank with those other numberless g a l l e r i e s 19 who sponsered e x h i b i t i o n s of modern a r t . Another attack on P h i l i s t i n i s m was aimed at the common realism of mid-Victorian a r t and the Pre-Raphaelite axiom that every v i s i b l e d e t a i l be t r a n s f e r r e d f a i t h f u l l y to canvas. The i d e a l i s t s tended to equate realism with mere t e c h n i c a l d e x t e r i t y and compositional medio- c r i t y . Whistler stated t h i s p o s i t i o n i n h i s "Ten O'clock" lecture, but emphasized the u n r e a l i t y of the a r t i s t ' s v i s i o n : ...the evening mist clothes the r i v e r s i d e with poetry, as with a v e i l , and the poor b u i l d i n g s lose themselves i n the dim sky, and the t a l l chimneys become campanili, and the warehouses become palaces i n the night, and the whole c i t y hangs i n the heavens, and f a i r y l a n d i s before u s — t h e n the wayfarer hastens home; the working man and the cultured one, the wise man and the one of^pleasure, cease to understand as they have ceased to see... The i d e a l i s t s * conception of beauty was based on the truth of the i d e a l forms i n a r t and the r e j e c t i o n of realism and naturalism. But i n the 1 8 7 0's a new s e n s i b i l i t y had a r i s e n which i n t e r p r e t e d idealism as the champion of "unnaturalism." This new s e n s i b i l i t y delighted i n the e c c e n t r i c and b i z a r r e as much as i n the f r i g i d c l a s s i c i s m of Leighton, and some of Whistler's popularity was due to h i s c u l t i v a t i o n of e c c e n t r i c i t i e s . For those who b e l i e v e d that idealism was a truer 1 0 6 k i n d o f a r t t h a n t h e m i d - V i c t o r i a n , t h e r e j e c t i o n o f n a t u r a l i s m a n d c o n v e n t i o n c o u l d e a s i l y l e a d t o t h e c u l t i v a t i o n o f u n n a t u r a l i s m a n d u n c o n v e n t i o n a l s i m . T h i s n e w s e n s i b i l i t y w a s k e e n l y a w a k e t o i m a g e s o f s a d n e s s , d i s e a s e a n d d e a t h . B u r n e - J o n e s w a s o f t e n c r i t i c i z e d f o r h i s m o r b i d s t y l e w i t h i t s s a d , p a l e f i g u r e s w h i c h , o f c o u r s e , w a s p a r t i c u l a r l y a p p e a l i n g t o t h e n e w c o n s c i o u s n e s s . T h i s m o r b i d s e n s i b i l i t y w a s n o t t h e o v e r - r i d i n g f e e l i n g i n a n y p e r s o n , n o t e v e n W a l t e r P a t e r , w h o e x p r e s s e d i t s o w e l l i n h i s w r i t i n g s . N o n e t h e l e s s i t w a s b e c o m i n g a c o n v e n t i o n , a w a y o f l o o k i n g a t t h i n g s w h i c h t o u c h e d s o m e s e n s e o f r e a l i t y ' s o r d e r i n m a n y p e o p l e . I t w a s a n i n v e r s i o n o f t h e n a t u r a l o r d e r a s t h e m i d - V i c t o r i a n s s a w i t — i n s t e a d o f h a p p i n e s s , s a d n e s s ; i n s t e a d o f b l o o m i n g h e a l t h , p a l e d i s e a s e ; a n d i n s t e a d o f l i f e , d e a t h . T h e m o r b i d s e n s i b i l i t y d e v e l o p e d p a r t l y f r o m t h e m i d - V i c t o r i a n c r i t i q u e o f a p p e a r a n c e s ; t h i n g s w e r e s e l d o m a s t h e y s e e m e d . I n a r t , J o h n R u s k i n h a d e l o q u e n t l y a r g u e d t h a t p e r f e c t f i n i s h w a s a s i g n o f c u l t u r a l d e g r a d a t i o n i n m i d - V i c t o r i a n d e s i g n . B u t c e r t a i n c o n v e n t i o n s h e l d t r u e n e v e r t h e l e s s , e s p e c i a l l y i n p a i n t i n g w h e r e a p p e a r a n c e s h a d t o r e v e a l a l l l e v e l s o f r e a l i t y , a n d t h e s e c o n v e n t i o n s c e l e b r a t e d t h e v i r t u e s o f h e a l t h . W h e n t h e s e c o n v e n t i o n s n o l o n g e r c o n v i n c e d t h e v i e w e r , m i d - V i c t o r i a n r e a l i s m w a s n o l o n g e r r e a s o n a b l e ; r e a l i s m n o l o n g e r s e e m e d r e a l . T h e d i s a p p e a r a n c e o f m i d - V i c t o r i a n c o n v e n t i o n s , h o w e v e r , d i d n o t m a k e t h e m o r b i d s e n s i b i l i t y i n e v i t a b l e . I t w a s W a l t e r . P a t e r w h o s e c o n s c i o u s n e s s o f t r a n s i t i o n , r e g r e t a n d d e a t h i n f l u e n c e d t h e a e s t h e t i c s e n s i b i l i t y o f t h e 1 8 7 0 ' s . P a t e r h a d a l m o s t n o d i r e c t i n f l u e n c e o v e r V i c t o r i a n a r t , b u t h i s r e s p o n s e s t o a e s t h e t i c e x p e r i e n c e w e r e s o p e r f e c t l y i n t u n e w i t h o n e a s p e c t o f V i c t o r i a n 107 p a i n t i n g that h i s ideas must be r e l a t e d to the f i n e a r t s as well as to a r t theory i n the 1870's. Like so many of h i s contemporaries* Pater was not concerned p r i m a r i l y with the aesthetic q u a l i t i e s of a r t as Whistler described them. Pater's c o n t r i b u t i o n to aestheticism was not the philosophy of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake* but rather a model i n t e r a c t i o n between a r t and the s e n s i t i v e temperament of a high-strung p e r s o n a l i t y . In discussing a r t and l i t e r a t u r e i n h i s e a r l y essays* Pater r a r e l y mentioned the purely a e s t h e t i c q u a l i t i e s of form* color* l i n e * rhythm; they were always imbedded i n a catalogue of associations* h i s t o r i c a l * l i t e r a r y and personal. The poem which gives i t s name to the volume ["The Defence of Guenevere"] i s a thing tormented with passion* l i k e the body of Guenevere defending h e r s e l f from the charge of adultery* and the accent f a l l s . i n strange* unwonted places with the e f f e c t of a great cry. Pater's s t y l e * i n i t s metaphors and general organization* suggests an a s s o c i a t i o n of ideas i n which connections are based on some uncon- scious perception of r e a l i t y * c e r t a i n l y an unconventional one. His imagery was unusual* even b i z a r r e * yet haunting. Here* under t h i s strange complex of conditions* as i n some medicated a i r * exotic flowers of sentiment expand* among people of a remote and unaccustomed beauty* somnabulistic* f r a i l * an- drogynous* the l i g h t almost shining through them* as the flame of a l i t t l e taper shows through the Host.22 Pater's defense of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake* made at the end of h i s a r t i c l e on William Morris' poetry i n 1868 and included i n h i s Studies i n the History of the Renaissance i n 1873* can be more c l e a r l y under- stood as a defense of a p a r t i c u l a r meaning of a r t i n l i f e rather than p r i m a r i l y as a defense of the i n t e g r i t y or amorality of a r t . Pater's 108 e a r l i e r writings everywhere displayed a curious and bewildering com- b i n a t i o n of mental reverie and the images of a f e a r f u l r e a l i t y * which he described as continual and meaningless change. Obsessed with the psychological e f f e c t s of a e s t h e t i c experience* Pater had the scholar's tendency to f e e l the r e a l i t y of i n t e l l e c t u a l a c t i v i t y as v i v i d l y as that of physical a c t i v i t y . Art was f o r Pater a means of extending experience, of a c t u a l l y extending l i f e . When Pater s a i d : Of t h i s wisdom, the poetic passion, the desire of beauty, the love of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake, has most; f o r a r t comes to you pro- f e s s i n g frankly to give nothing but the highest q u a l i t y to your moments as they pass, and simply f o r those moments' sake.23 i t i s important to know what q u a l i t i e s Pater saw i n a r t . They were, i n fact* s i m i l a r to those q u a l i t i e s Ruskin perceived—the q u a l i t y of human l i f e of a p a r t i c u l a r c u l t u r a l epoch. The composite experience of a l l the ages i s part of each of us; to deduct from that experience* to o b l i t e r a t e any part of i t , to come face to face with the people of a past age* as i f the middle age* the Renaissance* the eighteenth century had not been* i s as impossible as to become a l i t t l e c h i l d , or enter again into the womb and be born. But though i t i s not possible to repress a single phase of that humanity, which, because we l i v e and move and have our being i n the l i f e of humanity, makes us what we are; i t i s possible to i s o l a t e such a phase, to throw i t i n t o r e l i e f , to be divided against ourselves i n zeal f o r i t . . . Such an a t t i t u d e towards Greece, a s p i r i n g to but never a c t u a l l y reaching i t s way of conceiving l i f e , i s what i s possible f o r a r t . The great difference between Pater and Ruskin was not i n t h e i r a t t i t u d e s towards what was possible f o r a r t but rather i n t h e i r a t t i - tudes towards experience and the s i g n i f i c a n c e of human l i f e , and therefore towards the r e l a t i o n s h i p between a r t and experience. For Ruskin l i f e was a duty, and i t s meaning lay i n the o b l i g a t i o n of the l i v i n g to be good and to f u l f i l l the r e s p o n s i b i l i t i e s imposed by a natural order of l i f e . A r t was valuable because i t expressed truth •'109 and goodness, and was therefore an education and an i n s p i r a t i o n . For Pater l i f e was an enigma with no c l e a r meaning or purpose. The necessity of order which continued to guide Ruskin and Arnold a f t e r t h e i r c r i s e s of f a i t h no longer seemed reasonable to Pater, despite h i s obvious anxiety about l i f e ' s meaningless change, and death. Art f o r Pater was a kind of redemption which pushed back the i s o l a t i n g horizon.by extending the realm of experience i n t o a t e r r a i n where meaning was immediately and personally sensible. Art was more precious than p o l - i t i c a l or c h a r i t a b l e endeavors because a e s t h e t i c experience was purely personal and never went beyond the confines of one's own s k u l l , as d i d every worldly passion, to become confused i n the kaleidescope of s o c i a l experience. Pater's e f f e c t on the V i c t o r i a n s of the l a t e 1860's and 1870's was not s u r p r i s i n g ; some found him dangerous, while others accepted h i s work as serious and i n t e r e s t i n g . Pater's emphasis on the u n i v e r s a l restlessness of things struck a raw nerve and several of h i s Oxford colleagues, i n c l u d i n g the redoubtable Dr. Jowett, r e c o i l e d p a i n f u l l y from i t . But several scholars and c r i t i c s , i n c l u d i n g John Addington Symonds and Mrs. Mark Pattison, found Pater's Renaissance a thoughtful 25 book by a serious writer. Pater's r e j e c t i o n of the necessity of order was c e r t a i n l y commonplace enough by the 1870's to be viewed as harmless by a large number of c u l t i v a t e d people. Pater's s e n s i b i l i t y was also important because of the way h i s s t r i k i n g imagery penetrated l a t e Victorian\;'culture, or perhaps the converse was more t r u e — t h e way i n which the imagery of i d e a l i s t V i c t o r i a n a r t penetrated Pater's mind. Pater expressed b e t t e r than any a r t c r i t i c that p e c u l i a r beauty of the -.tlC- medieval i d e a l i s t s , Rossetti and Burne-Jones, i n h i s discussion of William Morris' medieval poetry> Without ever a c t u a l l y speaking of the a r t i s t s or t h e i r work, he seems to describe a Burne-Jones p a i n t i n g i n the passage, "...people of a remote and unaccustomed beauty, somna- 26 b u l i s t i c , f r a i l , androgynous, the l i g h t almost shining through them..." Pater's prose discussing medievalism was the l i t e r a r y counterpart to Burne-Jones' and Rossetti's paintings, and i n the prose, i t i s easy to discover the morbid s e n s i b i l i t y , the preoccupation with disease, disorder and death. "That whole r e l i g i o n of the middle age was but a b e a u t i f u l disease or disorder of the senses," wrote Pater, and i n the following paragraph the d e s c r i p t i v e words are "delirium", "appalling", "narcotic", " f e v e r i s h " , "maddening" and "a sudden bewildering sickening 27 of l i f e and a l l things." But where was the beauty i n disorder and what was the a e s t h e t i c pleasure to be had from disease? Of course no one s e r i o u s l y promoted the beauty of sickness i n the 1870's; that was only a c a r i c a t u r e . But i t was a caricature of a sentiment to be found i n respectable places, foremost of which, i n the a r t world, was Burne-Jones' studio. Nobody could deny that h i s sense of beauty rejected the robust. This sentiment was an a e s t h e t i c expression of a deep and probably uncon- scious discontent with the robust materialism of the period, and i t a f f l i c t e d the prosperous, the secure and the educated. Long a f t e r i t s development, a biographer of Frederic Leighton described t h i s sentiment. Imbued with a rare, p e c u l i a r refinement a l l i t s own, a kind of a e s t h e t i c creed sprang up i n the l a t e r days of the nineteenth _ -century-apart from the a r i d s o i l of commonplace r e s p e c t a b i l i t y and t a s t e l e s s materialism. Burne-Jones painted i t . . . t h e humourist caricatured i t , the P h i l i s t i n e s denounced i t as morbid and un- wholesome. Leighton was t o l e r a n t and amused, but could not be very solemn over i t . . . . I t s text may be found i n Melisande's r e i t e r a t e d r e f r a i n , "I am not happy"—though the unhappiness does not ever seem to have been of the nature of the i r o n which entered into the soul, but rather the shadow of sadness, adopted with the idea that such a condition betokens a more rare and tende grace than the radiance of joy can give. This sweet sadness was not the r e s u l t of any t r a g i c r e a l i z a t i o n nor even of a h e a r t - f e l t despair. I t was born of the prosperity and s e c u r i t y of the upper classes and t h e i r dim intimation that t h e i r dearest values were pregnant with meaninglessness. Experiencing the ennui of modern l i f e yet bound to those u n s a t i s f y i n g forms and values by a dread of r a d i c a l change, many l a t e V i c t o r i a n s preferred images of i n e f f a b l e misfortune to those more robust compositions of more obvious meaning because the l a t t e r no longer touched t h e i r f e e l i n g s . The sweet sadness preferred to the radiance of joy was the image of a f e e l i n g , a h e a r t - f e l t sense of inexpressible longing, "that i n v e r s i o n of homesickness known to some, that incurable t h i r s t f o r the sense of 29 (©scape, which no a c t u a l form of l i f e s a t i s f i e s . . . " Yet no r e a l escape was wanted, or even sought, not by Pater or Burne-Jones. The aesthetic s a t i s f a c t i o n came from the longing i t s e l f , a psychology Pater described i n h i s a r t i c l e on Morris. For i n that i d o l a t r y the i d o l was absent or v e i l e d , not l i m i t e d to one supreme p l a s t i c form l i k e Zeus at Olympia or Athena i n the A c r o p o l i s , but d i s t r a c t e d , as i n a fever dream, i n t o a thou- sand symbols and r e f l e c t i o n s . . . . Hence a love define by the absence of the beloved, choosing to be without hope, p r o t e s t i n g against a l l lower uses of love, barren, extravagant, antinomian. So while Burne-Jones went on working i n that world which was more true than r e a l and while Pater declared the v i r t u e of burning ,112 always with that hard gem-like flame, l a t e V i c t o r i a n c r i t i c s and a r t - lovers, perceiving the beauty and safety of ever u n f u l f i l l e d longing, grew more and more s e n s i t i v e to a new set of images. The tension b u i l t up by such longing, and the growing i r r i t a b i l i t y of an a r t world conscious of i t s own contradictions, created an atmosphere which was intensely susceptible to the world of images. As Pater said, describing Morris' poetry: A passion of which the o u t l e t s are sealed, begets a tension of nervey i n which the sensible world comes to one with a r e i n - forced b r i l l i a n c e and r e l i e f — a l l redness i s turned i n t o blood, a l l water into tears.31 So to some minds were i d e a l i s t s turned i n t o aesthetes and men of pro- perty into P h i l i s t i n e s . The i n t e n s i t y of f e e l i n g about "aesthetic" a r t was evident i n the controversies which such a r t s t i r r e d ; the attack on the " f l e s h l y " poets, the h o s t i l i t y shown to Whistler, and the a r t i c l e s i n the p e r i o d i c a l s which disapproved of the excessive love of beauty and the acute s e n s i - 32 t i v i t y of the aesthete. There were few absolutely neutral f i g u r e s i n regard to aestheticism, and yet i n the a r t world i t s e l f , among the i d e a l i s t s and t h e i r associates, there was an amused though disapproving tolerance of i t a l l . I t may be as George Augustus Sala declared, that aestheticism was merely a figment of Du Maurier's i m a g i n a t i o n , 3 3 but the press c e r t a i n l y b e l i e v e d i n i t s existence and had decided opinions about i t . A r t i s t s could be amused because they d i d not take i t s e r i o u s l y , knowing,?>that there were more pressing and important issues i n the practice of a r t than the chimera of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake. Art f o r a r t ' s sake was a myth invented by outsiders, as a j o u r n a l i s t invents headlines, 113 to cover and explain events i n the a r t world and to make them i n t e l l i - g i b l e and i n t e r e s t i n g to an outside audience. Nonetheless t h i s inven- t i o n d i d e x i s t and helped cause the f l u r r y of controversy among those to whom the practice of a r t was not so important as the ideas which a r t embodied. Even the i d e a l i s t s were not t o t a l l y exempt from t h i s * hence t h e i r disapproval of aestheticism. This was the state of the a r t world of the 1870's* and no event so c l e a r l y i l l u m i n a t e d the f l u i d i t y and confusion of ideas* the tension* the i r r i t a t e d nerves of the p a r t i c i p a n t s and the interdependence of two extreme views of the meaning of a r t * as d i d the Whistler vs. Ruskin l i b e l s u i t of 1878."̂ 4 In the b i z a r r e arena of the courtroom* c e r t a i n a r t i s t s and c r i t i c s took the opportunity to assert p r i n c i p l e s they had 35 at heart. J Two things were c l e a r l y shown by t h i s c o n f r o n t a t i o n — f i r s t * that the ranks of aestheticism never were or could be monolithic* and second* that the r e a l danger to aestheticism was not P h i l i s t i n i s m but conscientious a r t i s t s who could not agree where the boundary lay be- tween a r t as a profession and a r t as a s p i r i t u a l c a l l i n g . Aestheticism could not be s e r i o u s l y threatened by P h i l i s t i n i s m * imbedded as the l a t t e r was i n a l l the forms of p r a c t i c a l l i f e . But a r t had been set free* so to speak* by new s o c i a l * economic and i n t e l l e c t u a l r e a l i t i e s and had not yet s e t t l e d into a recognized r e l a t i o n s h i p with any aspect of l i f e . Therefore during the t r i a l * the witnesses attempted to define art* to place i t i n i t s proper context* as a preliminary to doing j u s t i c e i n the case. The episode began i n 1877 with the opening of the Grovsner G a l l e r y . Whistler had been i n v i t e d to e x h i b i t and he sent several 114 -works,- i n c l u d i n g a p o r t r a i t of Henry I r v i n g and a view of the fireworks display at Cremorne Garden e n t i t l e d Nocturne i n Black and Gold: The F a l l i n g Rocket. The c r i t i c a l reviews of Whistler's work combined some praise f o r h i s c o l o r i n g and design with c r i t i c i s m of h i s many e c c e n t r i c i t i e s i n subject matter, handling and s t y l e . But John Ruskin pounced on Whistler i n a notice i n Fors Clavigera and r a i l e d against the Nocturne i n Black and Gold, the one p a i n t i n g Whistler had marked f o r sale. [Figure 25] For Mr. Whistler's own sake, no l e s s than f o r the p r o t e c t i o n of the purchaser, Sir Coutts Lindsay ought not to have admitted works i n t o the g a l l e r y i n which the i l l - e d u c a t e d conceit of the a r t i s t so nearly approaches the aspect of w i l f u l imposture. I have seen, and heard much of cockney impudence before now, but never expected to hear a coxcomb ask two hundred guineas f o r f l i n g i n g a pot of paint i n the public's face. This was not merely an unfavorable review; i t was a d i r e c t attack on Whistler's character and motives and the monetary value of h i s painting. I t did, i n f a c t , amount to l i b e l as the jury i n the case found. This was not the f i r s t time Ruskin had created a purchasing drought 37 f o r an a r t i s t . A humorous verse of the period i r o n i c a l l y declared i t s e l f i n sympathy with the e c c e n t r i c Whistler. I paints and paints, Hears no complaints, And s e l l s before I'm dry; T i l l savage Ruskin S t i c k s h i s tusk i n , n And nobody w i l l buy. The e x p l i c i t attack on the f i n a n c i a l worth of the work and the seemingly malicious c h a r a c t e r i z a t i o n of the a r t i s t combined with Whistler's con- 39 tempt f o r Ruskin's a r t i s t i c p r i n c i p l e s to make Whistler sue f o r l i b e l . Because of Ruskin's i l l n e s s the case was delayed i n coming to Figure 25 -1-16 court u n t i l November 1878. Both the p l a i n t i f f and the defendent had pressed a r t i s t s and c r i t i c s i n t o service as witnesses. Whistler persuaded W. M. Rossetti and Albert Moore to t e s t i f y f o r him while Ruskin* who was too i l l to appear* mustered the forces of Burne-Jones* W. P. F r i t h and Tom Taylor* a playwright and a r t c r i t i c f o r the Times. The l e g a l question which the jury had to decide was whether Ruskin's c r i t i c i s m had damaged Whistler's a b i l i t y to make a l i v i n g i n h i s pro- f e s s i o n and whether that c r i t i c i s m was malicious. But t h i s issue d i d not seem important to the witnesses as they pursued others* and the t r i a l atmosphere was f u r t h e r befogged by Whistler's reputation f o r e c c e n t r i c i t y and wit. Ruskin's lawyers refused to t r e a t Whistler s e r i o u s l y and asked such questions as* "Why do you c a l l Mr. I r v i n g an Arrangement i n B l a c k ? " 4 ^ And the ignorance of courtroom o f f i c i a l s and jury contributed to the amusement. One of the Nocturnes was displayed upside down* and when a T i t i a n was produced as an example of excellent f i n i s h * a juryman complained that they had seen enough of these Whistler Yet behind these exchanges* serious issues were being debated. Whistler began h i s testimony* a f t e r g i v i n g h i s c r e d e n t i a l s of t r a i n i n g and l i s t i n g h i s patrons* by describing a r t i s t i c merit and explaining why he e n t i t l e d h i s works Nocturnes. I have perhaps meant to i n d i c a t e an a r t i s t i c i n t e r e s t alone i n the work* d i v e s t i n g the picture from any outside sort of i n t e r e s t which might have been otherwise attached-to i t . I t i s an a r - rangment of l i n e * form and colour f i r s t * and I make use of any incident of i t which s h a l l b r i n g about a symmetrical r e s u l t . Among my works are some night pieces; and I have chosen the word Nocturneghecause i t generalises and s i m p l i f i e s the whole set of them. This was a statement of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake as Whistler understood i t — 117 a r t had no need f o r sentiment and works of a r t could not depend upon any a s s o c i a t i o n of l i t e r a r y , h i s t o r i c a l or narrative i n t e r e s t . But Whistler's idea of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake was a part of h i s b e l i e f i n the i n t e g r i t y of the a r t i s t — a r t i s t s created a r t and the greatness of the a r t work was determined by the genius of the a r t i s t , and t h i s genius e x i s t e d independently of moral or i n t e l l e c t u a l values and was not influenced by s o c i a l or economic circumstances. The Ruskinian p r i n - c i p l e which i r r i t a t e d Whistler most was that a r t embodied values of t r u t h and goodness which the a r t i s t derived from the s o c i a l l i f e a- round him. Whistler's idea of the a r t i s t and h i s work was s i g n i f i c a n t to the whole of h i s career. I t was both the cause and r e s u l t of h i s estrangement from the V i c t o r i a n a r t world, and the cross-examination by Ruskin's attorney exposed the contrary a t t i t u d e s . S i r John: What i s the subject of the Nocturne i n Black and Gold? Whistler: I t i s a night piece, and represents the fireworks at Cremorne. S i r John: Not a view of Cremorne? Whistler: I f i t were c a l l e d a view of Cremorne, i t would cer- t a i n l y b r i n g about nothing but disappointment on the part of the beholders. [Laughter1] I t i s an a r t i s t i c arrangement. Whistler's ideas led him to c r i t i c i z e Ruskin because he was not an a r t i s t , and therefore Ruskin's c r i t i c i s m could not be of any value. S i r John: You don't approve of c r i t i c i s m ? Whistler: I should not disapprove i n any way of t e c h n i c a l c r i - t i c i s m by a man whose l i f e i s passed i n the p r a c t i c e of the science which he c r i t i c i z e s ; but f o r the opinion of a man whose l i f e i s not so passed, I would have as l i t t l e regard as you would i f he expressed an opinion on law.... S i r John: Bo you think i t f a i r that Mr. Ruskin should come to that conclusion? Whistler: What might be f a i r to Mr. Ruskin I cannot answer. 118 But—I-do--not think that any a r t i s t would come to that conclusion. L Whistler's insistence on the absolute i n t e g r i t y of the a r t i s t l e d him to another revolutionary a t t i t u d e towards V i c t o r i a n c u l t u r e . Rossetti and Burne-Jones scorned the Academy, and the public adulation which P r i t h ' s works i n s p i r e d was never t h e i r s . But a l l a r t i s t s be- l i e v e d that a r t was a p u b l i c concern, or at least a popular one, and although there were ignorant people who could not understand a r t , works of a r t , l i k e statutes of law, reached out into public l i f e a s s e r t i n g the s p i r i t u a l order of things. In speaking of the new a r t consciousness of the 1880's, a V i c t o r i a n writer analysed i t s founda- t i o n s . "The dynamic of i t a l l was the closeness of understanding be- tween a r t i s t and p u b l i c . Wow with the s t a r t of the 1880's V i c t o r i a n 45 p a i n t i n g was entering upon i t s f u l l e s t effulgence." P a r t l y of necessity, the public was never of any importance to Whistler. Whistler: A l l these works are impressions of my own. I make them my study. I suppose them to appeal to none but those who may understand the t e c h n i c a l matter.... S i r John: You send them [your p i c t u r e s ] to the Gallery to i n v i t e the admiration of the public? Whistler: That would be such vas£ absurdity on my part that I don't think I could. [Laughter] On the question of the value of works of a r t , one of the key issues i n the t r i a l , Whistler r e l i e d again on h i s idea of a r t as the c r e a t i o n of a p e c u l i a r genius. When he t e s t i f i e d that he had f i n i s h e d The F a l l i n g Rocket i n two days, Ruskin's attorney asked, "The labour of two days, then, i s that f o r which you ask two hundred guineas?" 47 And Whistler r e p l i e d , "No. I ask i t f o r the knowledge of a l i f e t i m e . " This point gained applause, the only such outburst during the t r i a l . Here, Whistler's imagination ran p a r a l l e l to that of most V i c t o r i a n s . 119 But Whistler was more secure i n h i s .assessment of value- than were h i s adversaries and h i s a l l i e s . In discussing the price of The F a l l i n g Rocket with Ruskin 1 s attorney, Whistler's answers were simple and straightforward. S i r John: Is two hundred guineas a pretty good price f o r an a r t i s t of reputation? Whistler: Yes. S i r John: I t i s what we who are not a r t i s t s would c a l l a s t i f f i s h p r i c e . Whistler: I think i t very l i k e l y i t would he so. [Laughter] S i r John: A r t i s t s do not endeavour to get the highest price f o r t h e i r work i r r e s p e c t i v e of value? Whistler: That iggso, and I am glad to see the p r i n c i p l e so well established. Of course Whistler was not one to be shy i n h i s own defense but part of h i s confidence stemmed from h i s s a t i s f a c t i o n with h i s concept of value. Other witnesses had considerable d i f f i c u l t y grappling with the problem. When W. M. Rossetti, subpoenaed by Whistler's lawyers, was asked i f two hundred guineas was a s t i f f i s h price f o r The F a l l i n g Rocket, he r e p l i e d only a f t e r a long pause, and then cautiously, "I 4 9 think i t i s the f u l l value of the p i c t u r e . " Burne-Jones, a c t i n g on Ruskin's behalf i n the t r i a l , was asked the same question, and although h i s reply was c e r t a i n , i t was.hardly one which adequately addressed the problem of a r t i s t i c value. Bowen: Is the picture i n your judgment worth two hundred guineas? Burne-Jones: No, I cannot say i t i s , seeing how much c a r e f u l work men do f o r much l e s s . This i s simply a sketch. The day and a h a l f , i n which Mr. Whistler says i t was painted, seems a reasonable time f o r i t . Burne-Jones c l e a r l y d i d not mean that the value of a work of a r t depended s o l e l y on the amount of c a r e f u l labor expended on i t , but even h i s intended meaning, that c a r e f u l and d i l i g e n t work was one 1 2 0 of several necessary q u a l i t i e s of an a r t work, f a i l e d to solve the many problems posed by valuing a r t works. And Burne-Jones ideas of value were d i f f e r e n t when the work under scrutiny was a T i t i a n rather than a Whistler. Parry: What i s the value of t h i s picture of T i t i a n ' s ? Burne-Jones: That i s a mere accident of the salesroom. Parry: Is i t worth one thousand guineas? Burne-Jones: I t would be worth many thousands to me! But i t r might have been sold f o r f o r t y g u i n e a s . — He would not have paid the thousands of pounds, however, i f he could have purchased i t f o r f o r t y pounds; even f o r Burne-Jones, there was no i n t r i n s i c value i n an a r t work which could be f i g u r e d i n t o a cash p r i c e . Price was the market value. The "accident" of the salesroom was i n f a c t the only objective means of assessing value and i t pleased no one p r e c i s e l y because i t was objective, because i t was not d i r e c t l y r e l a t e d to any i n t r i n s i c q u a l i t y , imagined or not, of paintings. W. P. F r i t h , the other a r t i s t who t e s t i f i e d f o r Ruskin, was emphatic i n h i s view of the value of Whistler's work. Bowen: Are the pictures works of a r t ? F r i t h : I should say not. The Nocturne i n Black and Gold i s not a serious work to me. I cannot see anything of the true repre- sentation of water and atmosphere i n the p a i n t i n g of Battersea Bridge. There i s pretty colour which pleases the eye, but there i s nothing more. To my thinking, the d e s c r i p t i o n of moon- l i g h t i s not true. The colour does not represent any more than you would get from a b i t of wallpaper or s i l k . The picture i s not worth two hundred guineas. Composition and d e t a i l are more important matters i n a p i c t u r e . I f F r i t h ' s complacency seems i r r i t a t i n g l y P h i l i s t i n e to the modern mind, i t i s only because h i s mid-Victorian prejudices are so obvious. Yet Burne-Jones' insistence on completion and d i l i g e n t workmanship was es- s e n t i a l l y the same as F r i t h ' s , although they h e a r t i l y disagreed on the 121 question of appropriate subject. During the t r i a l * t h i s preoccupa- t i o n with completeness* accurate representation and good workmanship amounted to an almost f a r c i c a l insistence on "finishV.' F i n i s h was the t e c h n i c a l f i n a l touch of p a i n t i n g — t i d y i n g up the d e t a i l s * smoothing rough touches and g i v i n g adequate form to a l l the v i s u a l components of a painting. F i n i s h was a technique but i t was a l s o an a t t r i b u t e of s t y l e . Like perspective* i t was an a t t r i b u t e which V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t s d i d not b e l i e v e they could give up without taking a backward step i n a r t . But f i n i s h was not a q u a l i t y beyond debate; W. M. Rossetti c r i - t i c i z e d another a r t c r i t i c f o r h i s dogmatic insistence on f i n i s h i n a r t . We i n c l i n e to think that Mr. Palgrave remains somewhat too much of a Greek when he passes to the contemplation of other cycles and developments of a r t ; and that...he i s too anxious to f i n d i n them a c e r t a i n sort of f i n i s h * of which a kind of i d e a l or echo abides i n h i s mind from the models of Grecian perfection* but which does not* and hardly can* assume a l i k e shape i n modern. Burne-Jones craved f i n i s h f o r a d i f f e r e n t reason than F r i t h * although he would have agreed that the absence of c a r e f u l f i n i s h i n a work was a step back from the a r t i s t i c truths which the Renaissance had won. The l i b e l s u i t created an uncomfortable s i t u a t i o n f o r Burne- Jones* as he considered himself a f r i e n d of Whistler* and the same para- graph by Ruskin which i n c i t e d Whistler to sue contained high praise 54 f o r Burne-Jones' work. But Burne-Jones was w i l l i n g to put p e r s o n a l i t i e s aside because there was an issue f a r more important at s t a k e — t h e 55 idea that "good workmanship was e s s e n t i a l to a good p i c t u r e . " His testimony elaborated t h i s b e l i e f . 1.22- Burne-Jones: I think the Nocturne i n Blue and S i l v e r i s a work of a r t * hut a very incomplete one; an admirable beginning* but that i t i n no sense whatever shews [ s i c ] the f i n i s h of a complete work of a r t . I am l e d to the conclusion because while I think the picture has many good q u a l i t i e s — i n colour, f o r instance, i t i s b e a u t i f u l — i t i s d e f i c i e n t i n form* and form i s as essen- t i a l as colour.... Bowen: Do you see any mark of labour i n the pictures by Mr. Whistler that are under consideration? Burne-Jones: Yes* there must have been great labour to produce such work, and great s k i l l a l s o . Mr. Whistler gave i n f i n i t e promise at f i r s t , but I do not think he has f u l f i l l e d i t . I think he has evaded the great d i f f i c u l t y of p a i n t i n g and has not tested h i s powers by c a r r y i n g i t out. The d i f f i c u l t i e s i n p a i n t i n g increase d a i l y as the work progresses, and that i s the reason so many of us f a i l . We are none of us p e r f e c t . The danger i s t h i s , that i f unfinished p i c t u r e s become common, we s h a l l a r r i v e at a state of^mere manufacture, and the a r t of the country w i l l be degraded.-3 Burne-Jones' b e l i e f that p a i n t i n g was threatened by Whistler's me'thods was a f r i g h t e n i n g r e a l i t y to him and to many others. Designers i n the manufactured a r t s had experienced the corrosive e f f e c t s of an anarchic market-place on a e s t h e t i c standards, and i n the f i n e a r t s , the comparison had been pointedly drawn between a r t i s t s who painted because of an inner compulsion and a r t i s t s who painted because a ready 57 market e x i s t e d f o r t h e i r works. Whistler's methods were dangerous because they aped the e f f i c i e n c y and heartlessness of a machine. He turned out works i n a day or two, he evaded the d i f f i c u l t i e s and ac- companying soul-searching of a r t and he d i d i t a l l with an eccentric, s e l f - p u b l i c i z i n g disregard f o r conventions. A f t e r the t r i a l , a London newspaper showed no p i t y to the bankrupt Whistler d e c l a r i n g that Whistler had only to "knock o f f " three or four works to p u l l himself out of 58 debt i n l e s s than a week. Whistler's a t t i t u d e s , as Ruskin and Burne- Jones c l e a r l y saw, were a threat to the V i c t o r i a n view of a r t ; the acceptance of Whistler's a e s t h e t i c standards meant the r e j e c t i o n of 123 mid-Victorian and i d e a l i s t standards. The c r i s i s i n the V i c t o r i a n a r t consciousness which the Whistler vs. Ruskin s u i t so admirably i l l u s t r a t e d was not the c o n f l i c t of aes- thete vs. P h i l i s t i n e or of impressionism vs. narrative a r t . In the a r t world of the late 1870's there were no longer generally v a l i d c r i t e r i a f o r assessing the value of a r t which s a t i s f i e d the sense of propriety of most V i c t o r i a n s . Tn'effijui^>lil^i the t r i a l experienced the d i f f i c u l t y of grappling with value f o r although they found f o r Whistler, they only assessed a f a r t h i n g ' s damages. Ruskin's c r i t i c i s m had been l i b e l o u s but i t had succeeded, along with the testimony of the witnesses, i n destroying Whistler a r t i s t i c reputation. This d i f - f i c u l t y of deciding what a r t was worth was evident i n market t r a n s - actions and i n the r e l a t i o n s h i p between a r t i s t and men who bestowed commissions. Whistler was not the only a r t i s t to engage i n quarrels over the value of h i s work, although perhaps he had more excuse f o r i t than d i d a r t i s t s who were within s t y l i s t i c conventions. Luke P i l d e s , a painter t r a i n e d at the South Kensington National Art School rather than the Academy, disapproved of Whistler's a r t and i n h i s own work, although c l e a r l y influenced by the i d e a l i s t tendency to decora- t i v e a r t , c a r r i e d on t r a d i t i o n s of r e a l i s t i c genre and elegant por- t r a i t u r e . Yet the problem of value l o s t him a f r i e n d as the following l e t t e r s demonstrate. My dear P i l d e s , I enclose cheque f o r £30, I agree with you i t i s a large price f o r the drawing. I t must be agreeable to you to be able to earn money so e a s i l y . F a i t h f u l l y yours, Edmund Yates .1-24 F i l d e s 1 reply to t h i s has not been preserved but Yates 1 second l e t t e r c l e a r l y suggests i t contained a reproach. My dear F i l d e s , You have not read ray note i n the s p i r i t i n which i t was written. Nothing could be f u r t h e r from my i n t e n t i o n that to suggest any- thing dishonourable i n your conduct f o r charging me £30 f o r the f r o n t i s p i e c e of Time. You y o u r s e l f i n your note forwarding the charge expressed the opinion that I should probably "think i t i s a good deal of money f r o the work," and i n my reply I merely agreed with you. I should have said nothing more on the subject, but since you have reopened i t I may t e l l you that my p r i n c i p l e f e e l i n g at the charge was s u r p r i s e . Surprise that you should have treated me, an intimate f r i e n d , on the same terms that you treated Mr. Agnew, Mr. Smith the publisher, or the proprietors of i l l u s t r a t e d newspapers. I can only i l l u s t r a t e my meaning by saying that i f I had been i n the Tom Taylor l i n e and you had asked me to write"a few pages d e s c r i p t i v e , say, of the "Casuals" or "The Return of the Penitent", I should not have dreamed of taking any .money from you f o r my work. Of course, I d i d not expect you to draw my f r o n t i s p i e c e g r a t i s , but I thought, with the r e l a t i o n s between us, that the p r i c e was high. F a i t h f u l l y yours, Edmund Yates My dear Yates, The mere agreement with me that the charge f o r the drawing appeared high would c e r t a i n l y not be s u f f i c i e n t to annoy me. I t was the a d d i t i o n a l sentence that " I t must be very agreeable to you to make money B O e a s i l y " , with abundant suggestiveness, that induced me to read your note i n a d i f f e r e n t s p i r i t than i t was written. I t forced me to, what you c a l l , "re-open" the subject. But i n assuring me that you had no i n t e n t i o n of imputing anything dishonourable to me yet, i n your second l e t t e r , take away with one hand what you give the other.... I think i t due to me to say that I receive f o r every drawing I am now doing f o r the Graphic -£20 from a buyer apart from the high price I receive from the Graphic.... In sending you the o r i g i n a l drawing of "The Embank- ment"—the f i r s t I have given to the p r o p r i e t o r of a paper or p u b l i s h e r — I sent you what I could have got € 3 0 at l e a s t f o r ; I t r u s t some day you w i l l get £40 or £50 f ° r i t . Drawings of -q that size of mine have sold by auction f o r £44 some years ago. This exchange i s remarkable not only f o r i t s substance but a l s o f o r the suppressed b i t t e r n e s s of emotion which i s everywhere evident. 125 F i l d e s i n f a c t was so angered by Yates 1 second l e t t e r that he tore i t to shreds. C e r t a i n l y the r e l a t i o n s between a r t i s t s and picture buyers had not always been amicable, but i n the l$ja.te 1870's, t h e i r disputes over value betrayed the importance of that question and the confusion as to what determined value. How much, i f anything, d i d f r i e n d s h i p count i n a transaction? How d i d an a r t i s t determine a f a i r p r i c e f o r a p a r t i c u l a r work, e s p e c i a l l y f o r a work which l i k e F i l d e s 1 drawing earned two separate incomes? The copyright laws of 1862 made t h i s question relevant to every painter. How much d i d the copyright add, i f anything, to the market price of a painting? I f the a r t i s t retained the copyright i n a sale, was the p a i n t i n g worth less? Considering the great p r o f i t s to be made from the sale of engravings, the copyright could be valuable but a r t i s t s generally retained copyrights, when they did, i n order to be free to make copies of the work, not to p r o f i t from the sale of engravings. The changing c r i t e r i a of value a f f e c t e d the r e l a t i o n s h i p between a r t i s t and buyer i n another way. The i n s t i t u t i o n of the Royal Academy, the practice of public e x h i b i t i o n , the invasion of the a r t world by middle-class buyers and the i n f l a t i o n of picture prices had g r e a t l y a l t e r e d the r e l a t i o n s h i p of patronage. But an echo of the r e l a t i o n s h i p s t i l l existed i n the form of commissions given to a r t i s t s by wealthy buyers f o r s p e c i f i c pictures, usually p o r t r a i t s . The a t t i t u d e s of a r t i s t s and buyers towards commissions demonstrated the new stature of the a r t i s t i n society. Whistler was merciless to people s i t t i n g f o r p o r t r a i t s and yet h i s c l i e n t s , even Thomas C a r l y l e , struggled to endure i t . ^ The desire i n late V i c t o r i a n p o r t r a i t u r e to "drag a 12.6 man's"~ i d e n t i t y onto canvas" meant that the a r t i s t no longer f l a t t e r e d 61 as a matter of course. V i c t o r i a n p o r t r a i t s now r e a d i l y a v a i l a b l e to view are generally f l a t t e r i n g to t h e i r subjects, showing them as l o v e l y and noble specimens, but not because the a r t i s t f e l t i t necessary in i n order to secure commissions. On the contrary, many p o r t r a i t s were painted because the a r t i s t had a regard f o r the subject and f e l t him to be a good subject. Watts' p o r t r a i t work was almost a l l done at h i s request because he admired h i s subjects and other important a r t i s t s were free to capture on canvas only those p e r s o n a l i t i e s they wished to paint. A r t i s t s were no longer supplicants to the wealthy and the best a r t i s t s were of a s o c i a l standing equal to that of t h e i r buyers. By the 1870's a r t i s t s were already r e c e i v i n g the homage of the great and Frederick Leyland, who had commissioned works from D. G. Rossetti and Whistler, waited p a t i e n t l y f o r years f o r the completion of these 62 commissions. The apotheosis of the a r t i s t had begun and was based on the conviction that was a tremendously valuable and unique part of l i f e . The f l u x of ideas and values i n the a r t world of the 1870's and e a r l y 1880's created a p e c u l i a r sense of the importance of a r t . Among the c u l t i v a t e d upper classes, a r t was becoming an evej;ydaynnece'ssi$y which, i f i t could not be had from paintings, was present i n wallpapers, p o r c e l a i n and even greeting c a r d s . ^ The evidence of dozens of con- temporaries bears witness to the enthusiasm f o r a r t i n i t s many forms during the period. Most of them b e l i e v e d the enthusiasm was a b l e s s i n g 64 f o r E n g l i s h c u l t u r a l l i f e . For E. B. Bax, a j o u r n a l i s t and s o c i a l i s t , the new world of ..the • 1880*s.'embraced not only the a r t s but a l l the 127 The s o c i a l s t r a t a a f f e c t e d by i n t e l l e c t u a l i n t e r e s t s showed an enormous advance i n the l a t e r [1880's] as compared with the e a r l i e r period [1860's]. Middle-class households* where i n the s i x t i e s anti-macassars* wax-flowers* on the walls r e l i g i o u s texts worked i n B e r l i n wool* sentimental drawing-room songs* cheap dance music or t r a n s c r i p t i o n of banal I t a l i a n a i r s l y i n g on a c h a i r beside the piano* r e l i g i o u s books a l t e r n a t i n g with cheap novels i n the bookcase* Martin Tupper's "Proverbial Philosophy"* and* as the nearest approach to a c t u a l l i t e r a t u r e * Longfellow's poems, on the drawing-room table—domestic e s t a b l i s h - ments such as these gradually disappeared i n the i n t e r v a l between the periods. The generation which came to i t s own i n the e i g h t i e s had acquired truer i n s t i n c t s and higher i n t e r e s t s i n a r t , l i t e r a - ture, music, and the deeper problems of l i f e , i n d i v i d u a l and s o c i a l , gthani i t s predecessors of the e a r l y - and mid-Victorian period. I t i s perhaps natural that another witness, the son of an a r t i s t * should fasten upon a r t as the most profound expression of the change between mid-Victorian l i f e and l i f e i n the 1880's. L. V. F i l d e s pointed to the l a t e 1860's as the beginning of the a r t i s t i c awakening of the 1870's. Rather more than a hundred years ago a movement of Idealism swept over' this.country and hardly was any c l a s s of the community untouched by i t . On i t s a r t i s t i c side the movement has been associated with the Pre-Raphaelites* but i t went wider than that. Pre-Raphaelites* C l a s s i c i s t s * Medievalists* A e s t h e t i c i s t s * S o c i a l - Realists* p o r t r a i t - p a i n t e r s , landscape painters were a l l of them f i n d i n g patrons i n the new c l a s s of r i c h i n d u s t r i a l i s t s and merchants whose imagination the movement had caught. Nor d i d the movement stop at wealthy patrons.... The dynamic of i t a l l was the closeness of understanding between a r t i s t and p u b l i c . Now, with the s t a r t of the 1880's V i c t o r i a n p a i n t i n g was entering upon i t s f u l l e s t effulgence. Even to a very small c h i l d ̂ k e myself the world of the 1880's seemed f u l l of b r i l l i a n c e . To a more mature observer, the a r t world of the late 1870's and e a r l y 1880's was a scene of r e b i r t h and r e v e l a t i o n . Art c r i t i c and j o u r n a l i s t , Harry Q u i l t e r , wrote i n the A r t Journal i n 1881: And now a l l seems as i f i t were on the eve of change—old creeds w i l l endure no longer. Art has attacked our l i n e s with a f i e r c e - ness only to be accounted f o r by the length of time i n which i t 128 has "been kept i n subjection; a dammed-up r i v e r , i t has burst i t s dykes and i s sweeping over the land. No wonder that straws and rubbish of a l l kinds f l o a t e a s i l y upon the great waters... A l l t h i s i s i r r i t a t i n g enough to some of us, and we read g r e e d i l y Mr. Du Maurier's s a t i r e s , and l i s t e n to Mr. G i l b e r t ' s plays; but, a f t e r a l l , i t ' s not the essence of the matter. The E n g l i s h p u b l i c — a t least i f we may judge from London—are beginning to have a desire f o r beauty i n t h e i r surroundings.such as they have never before shown signs of; they want A r t with a blind,-™ longing, which would be comical-were i t not almost pathetic. In h i s "Ten O'clock" lecture, Whistler placed the blame f o r t h i s new age on the "aesthete" and h i s meddling with mattersJboth'.social and a r t i s t i c . 6 8 Each of these witnesses proclaimed the attempts made by a l a r g e r c l a s s of people than had ever attempted before, to r e a l i z e within t h e i r own l i v e s the pleasures of c u l t u r e . They a l l discerned a ̂ r i s i n g i n - t e r e s t i n a r t i n the 1870's, yet the precise character of t h i s r e v i v a l bewildered them a l l . Those who made of t h i s a r t i s t i c r e v i v a l the "aesthetic movement" d i d an i n j u s t i c e to the complexity of c u l t u r a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s of the period. As these witnesses show, the concern f o r a r t was wider and more v a r i e d than the boundaries of an "aesthetic movement" allowed. Because of the changing circumstances i n the c u l t u r a l l i f e of the 1870's, and the problems and confusion which they created, a r t became a preoccupation with many c u l t i v a t e d men and women. The search f o r a c l e a r standard of value f o r a r t works apart from market p r i c e disrupted r e l a t i o n s between a r t i s t s and buyers and was a part of the i n t e l l e c t u a l and c u l t u r a l education of many i n d i v i d u a l s . Amid the confusing and c o n f l i c t i n g claims made on i n d i v i d u a l s by the r e a l i t i e s and i d e a l s of the period, few approaches to the problem could provide 129 l a s t i n g s a t i s f a c t i o n . The r e l a t i v i s m which recognized the various excellences of many s t y l e s , and acknowledged that value was u l t i m a t e l y a personal and r e l a t i v e judgment was never very convincing, although c r i t i c s i n the 1880's had begun to r e l y on i t . H i s t o r i c i s m ran too deep and as L. V. P i l d e s acutely grasped, the c u l t u r a l l i f e of the 1870's 69 and 1880's was based on many mid-Victorian t r a d i t i o n s . Above a l l e l s e , the commitment to the idea that a r t was o r g a n i c a l l y and intimately l i n k e d to the s o c i a l and p o l i t i c a l l i f e of a nation was only with d i f f i c u l t y abandoned. Even Oscar Wilde, the self-conscious aesthete, wrote Ruskinian c r i t i c i s m i n the l a t e 1870's and consciously abandoned 70 Ruskin's p r i n c i p l e s only i n 1881. Relativism i n a r t c r i t i c i s m seemed new i n the 1870's and 1880's but an examination of the c r i t i c s who were r e l a t i v i s t s suggests that they d i d nothing more than extend the mid-Victorian p r i n c i p l e of i n d i v i d u a l i s m i n a r t . W. M. Rossetti, who perceived and defended the beauty of Whistler's a r t as well as the a r t of Alphonse Legros and Burne-Jones, admired o r i g i n a l i t y and individualism i n p a i n t i n g but c l e a r l y was l o y a l to c e r t a i n standards of draughts- manship and design. Although he admired Whistler's good q u a l i t i e s , he d i d not think Whistler's work b e t t e r than the more f i n i s h e d , complete a r t of Rossetti or Burne-Jones. The many new and d i f f e r e n t s t y l e s i n the 1870's made the admiration of i n d i v i d u a l i s m a s i g n i f i c a n t f a c t o r i n c r i t i c i s m . But i t was individualism, not a r e l a t i v i s m recognizing no absolute standards and threatening the destruction of the ideas which made V i c t o r i a n c u l t u r a l l i f e meaningful. This ambiguous r e l a t i v i s m was i n t e l l e c t u a l l y i r r i t a t i n g to many V i c t o r i a n s and was the object of s a t i r e and r i d i c u l e f o r i others. These 130 -dissenters created aestheticism out of the ideas which seemed to them dangerous or absurd. The a e s t h e t i c movement was* i n i t s beginning* a f i c t i o n . C e r t a i n l y none of major f i g u r e s of the movement before Oscar Wilde f e l t comfortable associated with aestheticism and most of them 71 p u b l i c l y condemned the movement at some time. The character of the e a r l y a e s t h e t i c movement was p u b l i c i z e d b y s a t i r i s t s and c r i t i c s of aestheticism* not i t s protagonists. The most pervasive a e s t h e t i c doctrine c r i t i c i z e d by s a t i r i s t s was the idea that the a r t i s t * endowed with genius* created a r t and that t h i s function was completely independent of any material c i r - cumstances.? Whistler was the major propagandist f o r t h i s idea. I t had s i m i l a r i t i e s to the widespread b e l i e f i n the importance of i n d i - vidualism i n a r t * but while Whistler b e l i e v e d the a r t i s t was above circumstances by v i r t u e of being an a r t i s t * the V i c t o r i a n s b e l i e v e d an a r t i s t must s t r i v e to conquer circumstances and to assert h i s own s t y l e f o r the sake of a r t . Both recognized that genius was unteachable but most V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t s were p a i n f u l l y aware of the p i t f a l l s and 72 accidents which might forever d e r a i l genius. They b e l i e v e d that unrelenting labor was necessary f o r a r t i s t i c development and i t was a moral o b l i g a t i o n to struggle against the ever increasing d i f f i c u l t i e s of p a i n t i n g towards the perfect a r t i s t i c c r e a t i o n . Por Whistler* hard work was necessary to master technique i n order to f a c i l i t a t e and perfect expression* but he never d e l i b e r a t e l y attempted a thing be- cause i t was d i f f i c u l t . Like r e l a t i v i s m i n a r t c r i t i c i s m * the concept of the independent genius was e a s i l y r i d i c u l e d * but i t was never meant to undermine V i c t o r i a n professional and a e s t h e t i c standards f o r a r t i s t s . 131 -[Figures 26 and 27] Rather, these ambiguous concepts allowed a r t i s t s and c r i t i c s more freedom i n developing an idea of the proper r e l a t i o n - ship between the a r t i s t and h i s society. The greatest a t t r a c t i o n of these two a e s t h e t i c doctrines was t h e i r promise to reconcile commercialism and i n d u s t r i a l i s m with a r t . These, i n the guise of P h i l i s t i n i s m , had ever been the enemies of V i c t o r i a n a r t . As the a n t i t h e s i s of a r t and industry l e d Ruskin from a r t c r i t i c i s m to s o c i a l c r i t i c i s m , so i t l e d every a r t - l o v e r to con- front the contradictory values of these two departments of l i f e . But i f V i c t o r i a n s recognized the c o n f l i c t and strove to resolve i t , the unconscious motors and gears of V i c t o r i a n society f r u s t r a t e d a l l programmatic s o l u t i o n s . The a r t world rested on the material wealth and well-being of V i c t o r i a n society and thus the aesthete's contempt f o r the P h i l i s t i n e was analogous to the r e l i g i o u s anchorite's contempt f o r h i s imprisoning body. The a e s t h e t i c s o l u t i o n to t h i s dilemna was to separate a r t and commerce, to cut the t i e s of the assumed r e - l a t i o n s h i p which bound them together. Whistler's d e c l a r a t i o n of the independence of the a r t i s t i n h i s "Ten O'clock" lecture was one statement of t h i s s o l u t i o n . Why t h i s l i f t i n g of the brow i n deprecation of the p r e s e n t — t h i s pathos i n reference to the past? I f A r t be rare today, i t was seldom heretofore. I t i s f a l s e t h i s teaching of decay. The master stands i n no r e l a t i o n to the moment at which he o c c u r s — a monument of i s o l a t i o n — h i n t i n g at sadness—having no part i n the progress of h i s fellow-men.... False again, the fabled l i n k between the grandeur of A r t and the g l o r i e s and v i r t u e s of the State, f o r A r t feeds not upon nations, and peoples may be wiped from the face of the earth, but Art i s . I t i s indeed high time that we cast aside the weary weight of — i . . ̂jCWQDERN yESTHETJCS. (Ineffable Youth goes into testacies oner an extremely Old Master'—say, Fai PORCINBLLO BABARAGIANNO, A.D. 1206—1231 ?) Maiter-of-Fact Party. " BUT rr's STTCH A ,RRF%LMVR SUBJKCTI " „ Ineffable Youth. " 'SUBJECT* IN ART 18 OT HO 1COMKNT 1 THR PlCKTOBAB IS BEAUTIFUL 1" Matter-of-Fact Party. " BUT YOU'LL OWN THE DBAWINO'S VILR, AND THE COLOUR'S BEASTLY !" Ineffable Youth. *' I'M CPLLAH-BLIND, AND DOS'TT^OTRSS TO UNDERSTAND D'AWINQ ! Tax PICKTOBAB 18 BRAUTCFUI.!" Matter-of-Fact Party (getting warm). " BUT IT'S AIL OUT OF PSMSPICTTTB, HANO IT ! AND SO ABOMINABLY USTRUi TO NATtmMl" Ineffable Youth. " I DON'T CARR ABOUT NAYTCHAH, AND HATB PKKSFECTIVB ! THR PlCKTOBAB IS MOST BSAUTirUL ! " MatUr-of-Pact Party (losing all self-control). ;«« BUT, DASH IT ALL, MAN J WHRRR THE BlCKMJfS is THE BMAVTT, THKN T* Ineffable Youth (quietly). " Iii THR PIOKTCHAH !" [Total defeat of Matter-of-Fuct Part*., - • .. : »- _ — . — — — • - Figure 26 133 /ESTHETIC PRIDE. Fond Mother. "You L I V E TOO M U C H A L O N E , A L O E R N O N I " Young Genius (Poet, Tainter, Sculptor, .Jkc.). " > T i s B E T T E R SO, M O T H E R I B E S I D E S I O N L Y C A R E F O R T H E SOCIETY OF M Y EQUALS, A N D — A — S U C H B E I N G THE C A S E — A — M Y C I R C L E IS N E C E S S A R I L Y R A T H E R L I M I T E D . " Fond Mother. " B U T S U R E L Y T H E SOCIETY OF Y O U R S U P E R I O R S — — " Young Genius. * ' M Y WHAT, M O T H E R ! M Y SUPERIORS! W H E R E A R E T H E Y I I I " Figure 27 134 of r e s p o n s i b i l i t y and co-partnership, and know that, i n no way, do our v i r t u e s minister to i t s worth, i n no way do our v i c e s impede i t s triumph! How irksome! how hopeless! how superhuman the self-imposed task of the nation! How sublimely v a i n the b e l i e f that i t s h a l l l i v e nobly or a r t p e r i s h . . . . Therefore have we cause to be merry!—and to cast away a l l c a r e — resolved that a l l i s w e l l — a s i t ever was—and that i t i s not meet that we should be c r i e d at, and urged to take measures. Whistler a l s o suggested i n h i s lecture that the a r t i s t could be immoral and s t i l l a great a r t i s t . Immorality was impossible i n the mid-Victorian and i d e a l i s t views of a r t , but the image of the indepen- dence of a r t and national l i f e had advantages and seemed to conform to the evidence of observation and experience. In the 1870's the r i s e of domestic a r t made the separation between a r t and commerce more apparent and i n t e l l i g i b l e . Both spheres of l i f e had claims on a man's time and energies, and i f the business world pressed more urgently and n e c e s s a r i l y on a man's time, a r t offered compensations which no other form of l i f e could. But t h i s a t t r a c t i v e s o l u t i o n had i t s c r i t i c s as well who struck i t a t i t s weakest p o i n t — t h e separation of a r t and commerce was a deliberate deception and could never be r e a l i z e d i n England. In The New Republic, W. H. Mallock made t h i s point when Mr. Rose, the caricature of Walter Pater, described the perfect c i t y . "You seem to have forgotten trade and business altogether," s a i d Dr. Jenkinson. "I think, however r i c h you intend to be, you w i l l f i n d that they are necessary." "Yes, Mr. Rose, you're not going to deprive us of a l l our shops, I hope?" said Lady Ambrose. "Because, you know," s a i d Mrs. S i n c l a i r , with a soft malicious- ness, "we can't go without dresses altogether, Mr. Rose. And i f I were there," she continued p l a i n t i v e l y , "I should want a bookseller to publish the scraps of v e r s e — p o e t r y , as I am pleased to c a l l i t — t h a t I am always w r i t i n g . " "Pooh!" s a i d Mr. Rose, a l i t t l e annoyed, "we s h a l l have a l l that somewhere, of course; but i t w i l l be out of the way, i n 135 a sort of Piraeus, where the necessary KdifrfAoi — " "A sort of what?" s a i d Lady Ambrose. "Mr. Rose merely means," s a i d Donald Gordon, "that there must be good folding-doors between the o f f i c e s and the house of l i f e ; and that the servants are not to be seen walking about i n the pleasure-grounds." Mallock b e l i e v e d that l i f e was a unity; a man could not change h i s values as he changed the topic of conversation. But he was mistaken i n attacking the separation of a r t and commerce as i f i t were a pro- gram, which i t was never meant to be. The separation of these worlds, l i k e the ambiguities of r e l a t i v i s m and a r t i s t i c genius, were f i c t i o n s maintained i n order to resolve the tension of contradictions which could not be solved. The a e s t h e t i c movement could be defined, as Harry Q u i l t e r sug- gested, as the most extreme edge of the new a r t consciousness which was developing under the influence of the i d e a l i s t s , Whistler, Pater and the pressures of changing circumstances i n the a r t world. This extremism was never meant to form the b a s i s of any programmatic change i n the a r t world. Rather, i t served to illuminate the new perspec- t i v e s on a r t which the new a r t consciousness opened up. Since the 1860's V i c t o r i a n a r t had been moving from the synthesis of a p e c u l i a r actualism i n representation and sentimentalism i n subject to a new conception of i d e a l form. The breakdown of the standards, the s t y l i s t i c forms and personal r e l a t i o n s h i p s which had supported the mid-Victorian a r t world p r e c i p i t a t e d a prolonged c r i s i s during the 1870's which allowed c e r t a i n events, a t t i t u d e s and s t y l e s to seem suddenly very promising or very dangerous i n so f a r as they offered solutions to problems. But the a e s t h e t i c movement had another c u l t u r a l r o l e ; i t was the f i r s t .-L36 major and self-conscious r e j e c t i o n of mid-Victorian c u l t u r a l values. Only a l a t e r generation turned on the mid-Victorians and attacked t h e i r a e s t h e t i c standards as r i d i c u l o u s and fraudulent* hut t h i s was foreshadowed i n the kind of c r i t i c i s m l e v e l e d against F r i t h ' s work 75 i n the 1870's. Now that i t i s fashionable to discern the a e s t h e t i c merits of mid-Victorian art* there i s a danger i n l o s i n g sight of the meaning of the r e v u l s i o n against mid-Victorian a r t which began i n the 1870's. As the V i c t o r i a n s themselves pointed out* and as we are now beginning to recognize* V i c t o r i a n design was the product of a c u l t u r a l m i l i e u which was no longer v i t a l i n 1880. From one point of view i t may be s a i d that the material r e a l i t i e s of the V i c t o r i a n period betrayed the s p i r i t u a l powers and a s p i r a t i o n s of i t s a r t i s t s . But t h i s r e l a t i o n s h i p could as t r u l y be stated i n i t s converse—the a r t i s t s betrayed t h e i r times and themselves by pursuing a v i s i o n of a r t i n society which was not* and could never be r e a l i z e d . A l a t e r generation discovered the f a i l u r e of the i d e a l i s t s * as the i d e a l i s t s had discovered the f a i l u r e of the mid-Victorians. But the a e s t h e t i c movement was not just the extreme edge of a r i s i n g a r t consciousness; i t was a l s o a part of the much greater c u l t u r a l changes which divided the mid-Victorian from the late V i c t o r i a n world. 137 FOOTNOTES 1 P [ h i l i p ] G [ i l b e r t ] H[amerton], "Art C r i t i c i s m , " The C o r n h i l l Magazine, VIII (1863)* 334-343.; W. M. Rossetti, Fine Art, 324-34. 2 A r t Journal, VI (1867), 59. \ r t Journal, XX (1881), 14. 4 Frank Davis, V i c t o r i a n Patrons of the A r t s (London, 1963)* 40-6. ^Pennell, Whistler, 108. ^ F r i t h , Autobiography, 76, and below, 69. 7 lb i d , 149?50. C h i l d , Art and C r i t i c i s m , 312-51. g The decoration of the Peacock Room i s described i n Peter Ferriday, "Peacock Room," The A r c h i t e c t u r a l Review, CXXV (June, 1959), 407-14. The incident i s also described by Weintraub, Whistler, 169-81, and Pennell, 147-52. 10 Ferriday, "Peacock Room," 41 3• 11 William Gaunt, The Aesthetic Adventure (Harmondsworth, 1957)* 257-9. Walter Hamilton, The Aesthetic Movement i n England (London, 1882), v i i . 1 2 Cited. i i n Herbert Read, Art and Industry (London, 1966), 63. 13 Rossetti, Some Reminiscences, 340-1. 14 Thorstein Veblen, The I n s t i n c t of Workmanship and the State of the I n d u s t r i a l A r t s (New York, 1918), 245. 1"5 Lady Burne-Jones, Memorials, I, 116. l 6 The Magazine of Art, I (1878), 50, 90. 17 Watts, Watts, I, 325* Pennell, 154. According to Watts, Ruskin also hated the red damask ground. 18 The Magazine of Art, I (1878), 90. 1 9Hubbard, B r i t i s h Art, 184-5. 20 James Whistler, The Gentle Art of Making Enemies (London, 1953)* 144. 1 3 8 21 [ W a l t e r P a t e r ] , " P o e m s b y W i l l i a m M o r r i s , " W e s t m i n s t e r R e v i e w (1868), 301. 2 2 I b i d , 302. 2 3 I b i d , 312. 2 4 ^ I b i d , 307. 25 F o r J o w e t t ' s r e a c t i o n , s e e T h o m a s W r i g h t , T h e L i f e o f W a l t e r P a t e r ( L o n d o n , 1°/07)> I* 255-6; f o r S y m o n d s r e a c t i o n , s e e J . A . S y m o n d s , " A r t a n d A r c h e o l o g y , " T h e A c a d e m y , I V ( M a r c h , 1873), 103-5; a n d f o r M r s . M a r k P a t t i s o n r e a c t i o n s , s e e W r i g h t , I , 253-4« M r s . P a t t i s o n w a s a s c h o l a r o f t h e F r e n c h R e n a i s s a n c e a n d w a s c r i t i c a l o f P a t e r ' s m e t h o d b e c a u s e h e c a l l e d h i s w o r k a h i s t o r y , w h e n i n f a c t i t w a s l i t e r a r y a n d a r t c r i t i c i s m . 2 6 S e e a b o v e , 107. 2 7 [ P a t e r ] , " P o e m s b y M o r r i s , " 302-3. 28 B a r r i n g t o n , L e i g h t o n , I I , 25. 2 9 W a l t e r P a t e r , S k e t c h e s a n d R e v i e w s ( L o n d o n , 1919)* 3 ° [ P a t e r ] , " P o e m s b y M o r r i s , " 302. 3 1 I b i d , 303. 3 2 e . g . , s e e H a m i l t o n , v i ; " P r i g s a n d P h i l i s t i n e s , " T h e S a t u r d a y R e v i e w , X L V I (1878), 555-6; a n d S B r o w n r i g g o n t h e B e a u t i f u l , " P u n c h , o r t h e L o n d o n C h a r i v a r i , L I I ( F e b r u a r y , 1877), 84. 3 3 H a m i l t o n , v i i . 34 T h e s t o r y o f t h e t r i a l i s t o l d b y W h i s t l e r i n h i s g e n t l e A r t , 2 - 18; P e n n e l l , 166-81 ; a n d W e i n t r a u b , 194-216. 35 T h e - o n e r . : r a a j o r w i t n e s s ' - w h o w a s u n a b l e t o a p p e a r , R u s k i n h i m s e l f , e a g e r l y - l o o k e d f o r w a r d t o t h e t r i a l b e c a u s e h e w i s h e d t o u s e t h e c o u r t - r o o m a s a f o r u m f o r s o m e p r i n c i p l e s o f a r t e c o n o m y . - S e e L a d y B u r n e - J o n e s , M e m o r i a l s , I I , 86. 3 6 C i t e d i n P e n n e l l , 169-70. 3 7 M a a s , V i c t o r i a n P a i n t e r s , 134* c l a i m s t h a t t h e " P r e - R a p h a e l i t e " a r t i s t , W . W i n d u s , c e a s e d h i s p a i n t i n g c a r e e r a f t e r a s e r i e s o f s h o c k s . w h i c h i n c l u d e d t h e d e a t h o f h i s w i f e a n d a s e v e r e c r i t i c i s m o f h i s w o r k b y R u s k i n . W . M . R o s s e t t i , h o w e v e r , i n h i s R e m i n i s c e n c e s , I , 134* c l a i m s 139 that Windus l e f t the a r t profession f o r a "reason which would do him honour," without s p e c i f y i n g that reason. Presumably, Windus might have r e t i r e d to spare the world bad paintings, but i t does not seem l i k e l y . However, Ruskin's c r i t i c i s m c e r t a i n l y a f f e c t e d Windus and helped dry up the market f o r Whistler's works. 38 C i t e d i n Hutchinson, Royal Academy, 131. 39 Pennell, 164, and Wientraub, 196-8, c i t e f i n a n c i a l problems as well, a r e s u l t of the b u i l d i n g of the White House and the buying drought. 40 Weintraub, 202. 41 * Ibid, 211. 42 H Ibid, 201. 43 J I b i d , 202. 4 4 I b i d , 203* 204. 45 / L. V. F i l d e s , Luke F i l d e s , R.A. A V i c t o r i a n Painter (London, 1968), 59. 4 6 Weintraub,, 202, 203. 4 7 I b i d , 203. 4 8 i b i d , 202. 4 9 I b i d , 206. 5°Ibid, 210-1. 5 1 Ibid, 212. 5 2 I b i d , 212-3. 53 Rossetti, Fine Art, 332. 54 Lady Burne-Jones, I I , 87. 5 5 I b i d . 56 J Weintraub, 210-1. 57 J See below, 80. 58 J Weintraub, 222-3. . 140 5 9 F i l d e s , 6-1-3. °̂Weintraub, 146-68. 61 Prank Holl, a Social-Realist turned fashionable portraitist* cited i n Maas, 223. u.;.^; 62 Ferriday* "Peacock Room," 409-10. 63 Art Journal, VI (1867), 115, reported on valentines which "are indeed beautiful-Art-works, that might find places i n refined collections." 64 Besides those quoted below, see Whistler, Gentle Art, 151-2; Charles L. Eastlake, Hints on Household Taste (London, 1878), v-vi; and W. Graham Robertson, Time Was (London, 1931), 34-6. 65 E. Belfort Bax, Reminiscences and Reflections of a Mid and Late Victorian (New York, 1920), 71. 6 6 P i l d e s , 59. 6 7 A r t Journal, XX (1881), 280. V 69 ^Fildes, 59, and below, 127. 7°Wilde, Works, I, 31• 71 One of the problems that the major figures of the movement had was i n being convincing i n their denial of their own "aestheticism." Whistler was most emphatic i n his "Ten O'clock Lecture,'" Gentle Art, 152-5. Burne-Jones, however, did not like public speaking and i t was with reluctance that he appeared for Ruskin i n court i n 1878. It was there that he made his strongest statement against aestheticism i n art, Lady Burne-Jones, I I , 86-9. Pater's denial of his connection with the movement was consistent, but almost completely ignored by his contemporaries, see his note to the "Conclusion" of the 1888 edition of the Renaissance. This brief 'Conclusion' was omitted in,the second edition of this book [1878], as I conceived i t might possibly mislead some of those young men into whose hands i t might f a l l . Pater, i n a review of Wilde's Picture of Dorian Gray i n 1891* denied the v a l i d i t y of amoral appreciation of beauty and experience i n his view of l i f e , see Wright, I I , 159* F o r a summary of Pater and those whose misinterpreted Pater's ideology, see John Pick, "Divergent Disciples of Walter Pater," Thought; Fordham University Quarterly, XXIII (1948), 114-28. 68 Whistler, Gentle Art, 152-3. 7 2Barrington, I, 155-6, 208, I I , 21-2. 141 Wstler, Gentle Art, 154-8. "Mallock, New Republic, 280. *See below, 80. 142 The world of painters, patrons and other cognoscenti was only a part of the V i c t o r i a n a r t world. I t was indeed the most celebrated, v i s i b l e and dramatic part but i t was also the most dream-like, s h e l - tered as i t was i n many ways from the a c t i v i t i e s and s o c i a l and eco- nomic changes which made so many V i c t o r i a n s anxious f o r the future of a r t . The f i n e a r t s d i d not d i r e c t l y depend on industry and com- merce as d i d the manufactured a r t s , and these l a t t e r (the V i c t o r i a n s a l s o r e f e r r e d to them as the lesser, i n d u s t r i a l , decorative and orna- mental a r t s ) had a d i f f e r e n t r e l a t i o n s h i p with industry and commerce, with the middle-classes and with the market-place than d i d the f i n e a r t s . Because the manufactured a r t s were a major part of the aesthe- t i c movement, i t i s necessary to understand these r e l a t i o n s h i p s i n order to understand the o r i g i n s of aestheticism within the realm of these " l e s s e r " a r t s . In dealing with the manufactured a r t s , i t would be well to have a precise d e f i n i t i o n of them, yet the evidence i n t h i s i s not as pre- cise as could be wished. Because the ornamental a r t s included a r c h i - t e c t u r a l adornment, the l i n e between a r c h i t e c t u r e , and ornamental work that had an i n t e g r i t y apart from an a r c h i t e c t u r a l s e t t i n g , was never c l e a r l y drawn. Evidence of t h i s confusion i s the dual role of many e a r l y and mid-Victorian a r c h i t e c t s as designers of b u i l d i n g s and of furnishings. Owen Jones, A. W. N. Pugin, William Burges and Matthew Digby Wyatt a l l treated i n t e r i o r decoration as a part of the 1 a r c h i t e c t ' s domain. Undoubtedly these men considered t h e i r work i n designing chairs, rugs, tables, ink wells and jewellry as a r t . 143 Much of t h i s kind of work was hand-crafted and even unique* and therefore would not be considered i n d u s t r i a l a r t which connoted mass production. At the other end of the s o c i a l and a r t i s t i c scales were the i n d u s t r i a l designers who copied or created designs f o r t e x t i l e s , pottery, cast i r o n ware and other a r t i c l e s manufactured by companies i n large f a c t o r i e s . These designers were generally drawn out of the working-classes, as i t was e a s i e r to t r a i n workers to do the a r t work required i n i n d u s t r i a l design than i t was to t r a i n a r t i s t s to design 2 f o r the manufacturing processes and the a v a i l a b l e market. There were also many i n d u s t r i e s which made no pretense at design i n t h e i r products; these were the u t i l i t a r i a n and pedestrian a r t i c l e s which a t t r a c t e d the admiration of the f u n c t i o n a l designers of the twentieth century but which few V i c t o r i a n s would have allowed to be a r t i s t i c at a l l . 3 Beginning with the 1836 Parliamentary i n q u i r y i n t o the state of the a r t s i n England, a l l the reform movements i n the manufactured a r t s aimed at the working-class designers. The architect-designers were exempla, and i t was hoped that i n d u s t r i a l designers could be t r a i n e d i n design as a r c h i t e c t s were, which would r a i s e standards i n i n d u s t r i a l a r t . Yet both kinds of designers, and designers who d i d not e a s i l y f i t into e i t h e r category, were engaged i n designing a r t i c l e s of manufacture. The best d e f i n i t i o n of these a r t i c l e s would unfortunately be a negative o n e — a r t i c l e s which by v i r t u e of t h e i r design have pretensions to being considered works of a r t but which 4 cannot be hung i n the Royal Academy e x h i b i t i o n s . The manufactured 1 4 4 a r t s were e n t i r e l y separate from the f i n e a r t s ; nonetheless, the l i n e between the ornamental work of a r c h i t e c t s and the hack-work of a t e x t i l e designer was greater than the l i n e between a r c h i t e c t u r e and ornamental design done by an a r c h i t e c t . The d i s t i n c t i o n between the f i n e a r t s and manufactured a r t s based on function (an a r t i c l e of manu- factured a r t has some s p e c i f i c use apart from being b e a u t i f u l ) neglects the many a r t i c l e s which are manufactured merely to be beau- t i f u l , such as p o r c e l a i n f i g u r e s , wallpapers, decorative t i l e s and ornamental moldings. Also the i n t r o d u c t i o n of function i n t o the d e f i n i t i o n of manufactured a r t tends to confuse the issue of the r e l a t i o n s h i p between beauty and function i n V i c t o r i a n a r t ; an issue which w i l l be discussed l a t e r . One of the reasons i t i s so d i f f i c u l t to a r r i v e at a proper and precise d e f i n i t i o n of the manufactured a r t s i s the character of the manufacturing a r t world, a world f a r more d i f f u s e and complicated than that i n which the f i n e a r t s were c a r r i e d on. The immense range of a c t i v i t i e s and ranks, both s o c i a l and a r t i s t i c , within t h i s part of the a r t world involved a r t i n problems and concerns unrelated to a e s t h e t i c questions. An enduring problem which always seemed pressing to contemporaries was r e c o n c i l i n g a r t and commerce. The c o n f l i c t s between these two departments of l i f e i n the f i n e a r t s grew out of the i n t r u s i o n of commercial mechanisms, s p e c i f i c a l l y the market-place, into the sphere of a r t i s t i c i n t e g r i t y . In the manufactured a r t s , commercial considerations had to be foremost and the problem of r e - c o n c i l i a t i o n therefore lay with designers i n providing a place f o r a r t 145 i n manufactures. The love of a r t i n i t s i d e a l i z e d , ethereal forms created a tension i n the f i n e a r t s which the manufactured a r t s escaped; there the p r a c t i c a l function of design provided a v i t a l bond between a e s t h e t i c and u t i l i t a r i a n values which a l t e r e d the nature of the c o n f l i c t between material and a r t i s t i c values. More important, however, the manufactured a r t s were not plagued with the anxiety created by the i n t r u s i o n of market value i n t o the realm of a e s t h e t i c value. A design had to s e l l to be successful; manufacturers could not ignore the market i n order to pursue a more sublime a r t i s t i c v i s i o n . And the element of uniqueness which gave the f i n e a r t market i t s p e c u l i a r character was' l a c k i n g i n the manufactured a r t market. Even unique pieces of f u r n i t u r e were unique only i n design, not i n function, and the success of a r t manufactures depended upon how w i l l i n g those who had money were w i l l i n g to spend i t on a p a r t i c u l a r design, or on ornament apart from u t i l i t y . The manufactured a r t market was, i n one sense, the converse of the f i n e a r t market, i n that a e s t h e t i c considerations constantly intruded upon commercial considerations i n manufactured a r t . But i f p r a c t i c a l considerations of design production and mar- keting a l l e v i a t e d the i n t e n s i t y of the controversy between a r t and commerce, the conditions i n industry and the t r a i n i n g of workers as designers created a vast set of problems which the painter, protected by high p r i c e s and a r e l a t i v e l y closed profession, never faced. The degradations and miseries of l i f e among the i n d u s t r i a l population aroused a v a r i e t y of reformers and reform programs, and through the 146 manufactured a r t s , the e n t i r e a r t world came into contact with these reforming energies. These issues r e f l e c t e d the great d i f f e r e n c e be- tween the f i n e a r t s and the manufactured a r t s i n V i c t o r i a n E n g l a n d — the i n e v i t a b l e involvement of a l l classes i n the manufactured a r t s as producers or consumers. The f i n e a r t s remained, though not neces- s a r i l y because a r t i s t s wished i t to, out of reach of a l l but the wealthy, educated and i n t e r e s t e d . The manufactured a r t s , spreading with the t i d e s of materialism and i n d u s t r i a l production, pervaded a l l s o c i a l s t r a t a and, as the century wore on, formed more and more of the p h y s i c a l background of a l l l i f e ' s a c t i v i t i e s . The manufactured a r t s d i d not, however, a f f e c t a l l classes or a l l a c t i v i t i e s equally. V i c t o r i a n design a f f e c t e d the fast-growing c i t i e s more than the sleepy p r o v i n c i a l towns, and the new wealth of the middle-classes more, probably, than the o l d wealth of the a r i s t o - cracy. But the manufactured a r t s presented the problem of popular and democratic a r t i n a way that the f i n e a r t s never could. Most r e - formers who aimed at higher a e s t h e t i c standards i n the manufactured a r t s b e l i e v e d that these a r t s ought to r e a l i z e t h e i r promise of be- coming both popular and democratic; they should be cherished by a l l people f o r t h e i r beauty and they should be a v a i l a b l e to a l l people regardless of differences i n wealth, education, even geographical l o c a t i o n . At the very beginning of the V i c t o r i a n period, a reform movement attempted to solve the problems of design standards and some of the problems of working conditions by e s t a b l i s h i n g schools of design f o r t r a i n i n g i n d u s t r i a l workers. Later reformers tended to 147 accept t h i s connection of the problem of design standards with the problem of the condition, e s p e c i a l l y the ignorance, of workers. But i t was f o r these l a t e r reformers which included Henry Cole, John Ruskin, William Morris and Lewis P . Day to answer the q u e s t i o n — what can be done programmatically to improve the manufactured a r t s 5 and the l i v e s of the producers? U n t i l the 1870's no answer s a t i s f i e d reformers with r e s u l t s , e i t h e r i n a e s t h e t i c standards or i n the im- proved condition of the working-classes. The great development of domestic a r t i n the 1870's seemed to contemporaries (and a l s o to several h i s t o r i a n s of V i c t o r i a n design ) the most promising condition the manufactured a r t s had as yet achieved;. I t was i n t h i s period that the paradoxical developments of V i c t o r i a n i n d u s t r i a l design f i n a l l y culminated i n the :.failure of the main objective of most r e f o r m e r s — the r e a l i z a t i o n of a t r u l y popular and democratic a r t . The commitment to a p a r t i c u l a r a r t i s t i c v i s i o n and to an i d e a l of an a e s t h e t i c hu- manism made the reformers, even William Morris who rejected the wide- spread compromise of h i s contemporaries, retreat from the conditions towards which democratic a r t had to advance, machine production and labor e f f i c i e n c y . The complex system of problems and r e l a t i o n s h i p s between theory and p r a c t i c e ; worker, designer and manufacturer; t r a i n i n g and s t y l e ; various i n s t i t u t i o n s ; and the producers and consumers of manufactured a r t can best be understood by examining f i r s t , the i n t e r a c t i o n between s t y l e and the i n s t i t u t i o n s and r e l a t i o n s h i p s p r e v a i l i n g within the context of the production of the manufactured a r t s . And second, i t 148 - i s necessary to examine the expectations of consumers, and the changing character of the market-place i n the 1860's and 1870's. But i n order to do t h i s properly, i t i s important to consider the role of the manu- factured a r t s within the d i f f e r e n t contexts i n which i s was important. Por example, to a r c h i t e c t s and i n d u s t r i a l designers, the manufactured a r t s afforded a means of l i v i n g and a means of expressing a r t i s t i c fancies and a s p i r a t i o n s . The t r a i n i n g and r e l a t i v e freedom of a r c h i t e c t s such as Owen Jones and A. W. N. Pugin meant that they approached design as a l o g i c a l extension of architecture, which was a f i n e a r t . The problems of architecture considered as a f i n e a r t were s i m i l a r to those of painting, although aggravated by the f a c t that b u i l d i n g s were meant to please many tastes and to f u l f i l l some purpose as a b u i l d i n g . But a r c h i t e c t u r e , buffeted by the s t y l i s t i c controversy of Gothic vs. c l a s s i c a l , was i n a c r i t i c a l state i n the 1850's. C r i t i c s who were generally pleased with the progress of the a r c h i t e c t u r a l a r t s at mid-century s t i l l saw dangers. But there i s no s e c u r i t y that we s h a l l continue to advance, or s h a l l even keep what we have gained, unless the p u b l i c can control by t h e i r judgment the caprices of i n d i v i d u a l s . I t i s f o r the g r a t i f i c a t i o n of the many, and f o r the sake of t h e i r commendation, that beauty i s studied, and u n t i l they can d i s t i n - guish between what i s good and what i s bad, a r c h i t e c t s labour i n v a i n . In the hands of some the .profession.will be turned from an a r t i n t o a money-making business; others, whose a b i l i t y i s not equal to t h e i r ambition, w i l l be employed i n preference to b e t t e r men, and the Wrens and the Barrys w i l l be fortunate i f , besides being deprived of the stimulus of praise, t h e i r plans are not marred by the want of^knowledge i n t h e i r patrons of the common p r i n c i p l e s of design. The a r c h i t e c t was c l e a r l y within the realm of the f i n e a r t s , although 1 4 9 h i s purely ornamental work was not f i n e a r t as i t could not he hung i n the Royal Academy. The a r c h i t e c t therefore tended to approach the problem of design as an a e s t h e t i c problem; the same way an a r t i s t Q approached a p a i n t i n g . Market considerations were r a r e l y a f a c t o r , f o r the a r c h i t e c t designed furnishings f o r h i s own b u i l d i n g s , f o r himself or f o r p a r t i c u l a r commissions. He was i n an e n t i r e l y d i f f e r e n t s i t u a t i o n from the i n d u s t r i a l designer who was employed by a manufac- t u r e r to produce designs and usually to adapt the design to the manu- f a c t u r i n g process as w e l l . The confusions which plagued the manufactured a r t s were most evident i n the case of the i n d u s t r i a l designer. T r a d i t i o n and the p r a c t i c e s of the architect-designers taught that design was the pro- vince of a r t i s t s , and when a Parliamentary commission i n 1825 and 1836 inquired i n t o the reasons why B r i t i s h i n d u s t r i a l design was so i n f e r i o r q to French, the problem of the worker-artist was f i r s t explored. The e a r l y testimony of Dr. Waagen of Germany stated the t r a d i t i o n a l view, already romanticized. When the chairman asked him the best method of "applying a r t s to manufactures," Waagen r e p l i e d , "In former times the a r t i s t s were more workmen, and the workmen were more a r t i s t s , as i n the days of Raphael, and i t i s very desirable to restore t h i s happy connexion. But the processes of manufacture were very d i f f e r e n t i n the nineteenth century from what they had been i n the days of Raphael. Although manufacturers n a t u r a l l y looked to professional a r t i s t s f o r designs, 11 a r t i s t s generally d i d not make good designers. The problem was the machine and the meachanistic d i s c i p l i n e which modern manufacturing 150 processes imposed. In many cases, the process of adapting designs f o r machine production was purely mechanical i t s e l f . Ewart (Chairman of the 1835-1836 Parliamentary Commission): Are you aware that the French profession of a r t i s t i s wholly d i s t i n c t from the profession of reducing the pattern to the Jacquard loom, or adapting i t to the Jacquard loom? Gibson: I am aware of i t . Ewart: You have not stated any sum that i s given to these persons [Gibson's designers], but you say i t v a r i e s according to circumstances? Gibson: According to the d e s c r i p t i o n of the pattern. Ewart: And i t i s mixed up with a remuneration given f o r r e - ducing the design to the mould, or c u t t i n g the card, which i s necessary f o r the weaving i t i n the looms? Gibson: I t i s so. Ewart: The a u x i l i a r y branch of the business i s purely mechanical, the c u t t i n g of the card? Gibson: Quite so, an operation of machinery. Ewart: I t i s not necessary that a person should be an a r t i s t to enable him to cut ^ e card of a pattern? Gibson: By no means. This separation of the mechanical from the creative and a r t i s t i c tasks d i r e c t l y contradicted Waagen's claim that the a r t i s t and workman should be reconciled. Yet judging from the testimony of 1836 and other, a l b e i t i s o l a t e d , examples, the d i v i s i o n of labor and the con- commitant separation of d i f f e r e n t processes i n production rendered the artist-workman n e c e s s a r i l y i n e f f i c i e n t . Nonetheless, the most s i g n i f i c a n t reform a c t u a l l y implemented as a r e s u l t of 1836, the es- tablishment of the Schools of Design, aimed at t r a i n i n g artist-workmen. I t was the triumph of t r a d i t i o n , and the assertion, i n the face of much contrary evidence, that a r t was a c r e a t i o n of human beings rather than of machines and of mechanical processes. The s t r a i n between the theory that workers should be a r t i s t s , and the r e a l i t y that they were often merely highly sophisticated machines 151 was p a i n f u l l y evident i n the educational program of the Schools of 13 Design. There, students were t r a i n e d as a r t i s t s f i r s t ; great care and time was spent i n teaching them to draw and model natural f o l i a g e and h i s t o r i c a l ornament. Then the attempt was made to turn t h e i r 14 a r t i s t i c s k i l l to i n d u s t r i a l design. U n t i l Henry Cole took over the management of the Schools and the establishment of the South Kensington complex of museum and a r t school, students r a r e l y learned to design f o r s p e c i f i c methods of production, and even more r a r e l y 1 5 gained workshop experience i n the schools. ^ Although i n i t s e a r l y years the school system d i d have some b e n e f i c i a l influence on V i c - t o r i a n design, students who completed the courses of study faced the same problems that other professional a r t i s t s faced i n the factory system. I t was not that the p r o f e s s i o n a l a r t i s t , stepping to the d i f f e r e n t drum of h i s beloved muse, was temperamentally unsuited to i n d u s t r i a l design but that t h e i r t r a i n i n g , t h e i r expectations and t h e i r approach to design problems were unsuited to the needs and expecta- t i o n s of manufacturers. The day to day requirement of design pro- duction meant maintaining a steady output of designs which were " a r t i s t i c " but which also, and more necessarily, met standards d i s t a c t e d by methods of production, market demand, costs, a v a i l a b i l i t y of materials and s k i l l e d labor, and the productions of competitors. Because the Schools of Design t r a i n e d a r t i s t s , most of t h e i r students were as unsatisfacto ry to manufacturers as professional a r t i s t s had been.^ However, the Schools d i d provide designs f o r industry i n the same way that a r t i s t s provided designs—manufacturers commissioned p a r t i c u l a r 152 works when t h e i r own designers were incapable of producing one. These works were generally the most V a r t i s t i c " productions of a com- pany and therefore much of the work shown i n i n d u s t r i a l e x h i b i t i o n s , being of t h i s type, were the gaudy exceptions of V i c t o r i a n design. The f a i l u r e of the Schools of Design to t r a i n a large group of i n d u s t r i a l designers was t a c i t l y recognized when the Schools were removed from the province of the Board of Trade and transferred to 18 the new Education Department i n 1856. The Schools concentrated on t r a i n i n g a r t teachers i n the l a t t e r h a l f of the century, although i t also produced some of the best i n d u s t r i a l designers of the 1860's and 1870's. Christopher Dresser was an i n s t r u c t o r i n the Schools and 19 Lewis P. Day and Frederick Hulme were t r a i n e d i n them. y More impor- tant than the f a i l u r e to t r a i n i n d u s t r i a l designers on a large scale was the f a i l u r e of the Schools to t r a i n the working-classes. Although the Schools were c a r e f u l to set up classes that workers could attend, the time and t u i t i o n required f o r a successful course of study were s i g n i f i c a n t obstacles f o r workers to overcome. Undoubtedly some workers e n r o l l e d i n classes, but the pressures to provide education f o r the middle-classes as well led to a middle-class student body who 20 r e g u l a r l y attended and r e g u l a r l y paid t h e i r fees. Besides the a c t u a l creators of designs, the production of manu- factured a r t was of primary importance to the manufacturer, the owner of the factory which produced such a r t i c l e s to s e l l i n the market- place. Their a t t i t u d e s towards i n d u s t r i a l design were c l e a r l y stated i n testimony before the Parliamentary Commission of 1836 and i n various 153 commissions since that time. Their most h e a r t - f e l t concern was the advantage which well-designed a r t i c l e s had i n both the domestic and f o r e i g n markets. During the questioning of manufacturers and r e t a i l merchants i n 1836* the s u p e r i o r i t y of French design was on everyone's mind* and the economic importance of competing with the French meant that E n g l i s h design standards had to be raised. But as to the best means of doing t h i s * manufacturers often d i f f e r e d . Almost a l l wished government to safeguard designs and patterns by copyright so that l e g a l a c t i o n could be taken against design p i r a t e s and f i n a n c i a l r e s - 22 t i t u t i o n made. However* d i f f e r e n t manufactures required d i f f e r e n t lengths of time f o r copyright p r o t e c t i o n from s i x months f o r ribbon manufacturers to several years f o r iron-mongers. Aside from t h i s governmental assistance* most manufacturers b e l i e v e d that competition would stimulate improvement i n design. For example* a s i l k manu- f a c t u r e r from S p i t a l f i e l d s t e s t i f i e d that the emergence of French 23 manufactures i n the E n g l i s h market had greatly improved the trade. Manufacturers were of course concerned with the establishment of the Schools of Design* but although most agreed that the t r a i n i n g the Schools provided was good f o r the manufactured a r t s ; they d i s - agreed among themselves as to the s p e c i f i c program of education which the Schools ought to follow. Edmund Potter* a c a l i c o manufacturer* b e l i e v e d the Schools ought to provide education f o r the middle- classes as well as the workers i n order to prevent i t s being a mere 24 c h a r i t y . On the other hand* the Manchester committee i n charge of the ̂ Manchester:. School" of" Design- i n . the. late.: 1840:' s i disapproved' 154 of Ralph Wornum's lectures on the h i s t o r y of ornament (which had ap- pealed to middle-class audiences i n other c i t i e s ) because they d i d not r e f e r to anything " p r a c t i c a l " and were not "adapted to the capa- 25 c i t y of the p u p i l s i n general." Undoubtedly many manufacturers hoped that the Schools would provide cheap designs and although they d i d tend to do so, the costs of design were s t i l l great at mid-century. The manufacturers d i d desire concrete r e s u l t s from the Schools, such as more and therefore cheaper designs, a r t education f o r t h e i r own c h i l d r e n , and designers who could s u c c e s s f u l l y compete with French work. The f a i l u r e of the Schools to produce these r e s u l t s (other than the second) was viewed by the manufacturers as the f a i l u r e of governmental interference i n t h i s d i r e c t i o n . Yet these manufacturers obviously cared f o r a r t very much, and Manchester manufacturers e s p e c i a l l y , were known f o r t h e i r c o l l e c t i o n s 27 of paintings and f i n e houses. Potter's desire to open the Schools of Design to the c h i l d r e n of the middle-classes was obviously a common one, f o r such students, e s p e c i a l l y women and g i r l s , were eager to e n r o l l . And i n t h e i r businesses, the amount manufacturers spent on design and the importance they attached to i t was great. In 1836 designers f o r various i n d u s t r i e s (at that time usually workers who had exhibited a f a c i l i t y f o r design) could earn from £100 to £200 a year, and a partner i n an i r o n foundry t e s t i f i e d that the company spent £1,500 a year i n the production of models f o r stoves and fenders 28 alone. In I 8 5 O , when most manufacturers agreed that the cost of designs had gone down s l i g h t l y , a Manchester manufacturer paid £7,000 155 f o r .designs and paid h i s head designer £500 f o r the y e a r . ^ The manufactured a r t s were therefore, as a source of l i v e l i h o o d f o r manu- facturers, of great concern to them and they were as c a r e f u l of the " a r t " as they were of the manufacture. But they r e a l i z e d more c l e a r l y than a r t i s t s that design had to be commercially sound before i t could be a e s t h e t i c a l l y successful as manufactured a r t . The methods they employed i n procuring designs involved the separation of worker and designer and thus meant the f a i l u r e of Waagen's humanistic s o l u - t i o n . The role of the manufactured a r t s i n the l i v e s of the consumer classes i s a more nebulous f i e l d of inquiry, but the fragmentary evidence c l e a r l y suggests several important points. The f i r s t was that a r t was only one consideration i n the purchase.of manufactured goods, even i f we admit that a consumer bought an a r t i c l e f o r the sake of a r t i f he considered i t more b e a u t i f u l than any other. Fashion, comfort, luxury, economy and u t i l i t y were a l l involved i n considering purchases. Generally speaking, fashion, comfort and luxury weighed most with the wealthier classes while out of necessity, economy and u t i l i t y were more important to the poorer. In 1836 fashion was iden- t i f i e d with both a r t and French design by witnesses before the Par- liamentary Commission, but by 1850 a ribbon manufacturer admitted that a prejudice f o r French goods e x i s t e d which had nothing to do with the s u p e r i o r i t y of French d e s i g n . 3 ^ The separation and c o n f l i c t of fashionable and a r t i s t i c taste was a s i g n i f i c a n t f a c t o r i n the development of V i c t o r i a n design. I t was an issue with which Charles 156 Eastlake grappled i n 1867 and was an issue i n furnishings and women's dress* the f a i r sex being p e c u l i a r l y susceptible to the d i c t a t e s of fashion."^ In Charles Dickens' Our Mutual Friend* fashion and comfort compete f o r precedence i n the B o f f i n ' s new home but are also the two major expressions of t h e i r new wealth. Luxury was ever fashion's a l l y * but a l l these expectations of wealthy consumers were constantly changing form and meaning from season to season* -and among the various classes and occupations. The s i g n i f i c a n c e of these shades of meaning w i l l be discussed i n a d i f f e r e n t context l a t e r . The importance of the manufactured a r t s among the lower-classes i s an even more d i f f i c u l t problem* f o r the evidence i s a l l oblique. Although they undoubtedly formed a large market f o r i n d u s t r i a l goods* they assuredly only bought the p l a i n e s t a r t i c l e s of the p l a i n trade. The ambiguous aims of the 1836 Commission again revealed themselves i n this.area f o r the general educational program through museums* g a l l e r i e s and schools which was meant to make designers of the workers was u n r e a l i s t i c . But i f i t was hoped that t h i s d i f f u s i o n of a r t i s t i c p r i n c i p l e s would make the workers demand b e t t e r design i n the p l a i n trade* thus increasing the amount they spent on i n d u s t r i a l goods* that hope was u n r e a l i s t i c u n t i l workers had more money to spend. The assumption that design was p r i m a r i l y ornament meant-that.the d i r e c t i o n of design reforms l e d to higher costs as ornament was added to con- s t r u c t i o n . The working-classes therefore were only at the f r i n g e s of the reforms i n manufactured a r t s . Working-class dwellings were c e r t a i n l y d u l l productions* although i n t h i s case economy and u t i l i t y 1 5 7 crushed ornament at the demand of the builders* who were not working- c l a s s members. [Figures 28 and 29] Although some e a r l y twentieth century designers found great beauty i n the severe functionalism of cheap and useful i n d u s t r i a l goods* the designs which d i d invade the p l a i n trade were crude imitations of fancy designs and well deserved Morris 1 epithet* "cheap and nasty." One of the major problems of the a e s t h e t i c movement* e s p e c i a l l y i n i t s e a r l i e r stages* was how to make manufactured a r t a v a i l a b l e to more people and to r a i s e standards of design i n the p l a i n trade. This problem was never s a t i s f a c t o r i l y solved i n the nineteenth century despite the widespread c o n v i c t i o n that* "the true p r i n c i p l e s of good design are u n i v e r s a l l y applicable* and* i f they are worth anything* 33 can be brought to bear on a l l sorts and conditions of manufacture." V i c t o r i a n designers were not w i l l i n g to take the step* f i n a l l y taken by American and continental designers* which i d e n t i f i e d beauty with u t i l i t y and function* and turned to' the machine as the r i g h t f u l pro- ducer of such a r t . I t i s s i g n i f i c a n t that the V i c t o r i a n s * recognizing the claims of both added ornament and basic construction* refused to surrender ornament to function. When Henry Cole and Ford Madox Brown designed a r t i c l e s f o r poorer consumers* they used very l i t t l e ornament* but only because ornament would have added costs* not because they b e l i e v e d added ornament was not b e a u t i f u l . [Figures 30 and 31] Their commitment to the human character of a r t was too strong. These were the fundamental a t t i t u d e s towards and the meanings of the manufactured a r t s i n the e a r l y and mid-Victorian periods* but 161 162 to understand the development of these a r t s , i t i s necessary to ex- amine the development.of s t y l e and i n s t i t u t i o n s i n the 1850's and e a r l y 1860's. In 1851 a r t was the happy partner of commerce and i n - dustry, as the Great E x h i b i t i o n proclaimed. But there were problems; the design of the E x h i b i t i o n was h e a r t i l y c r i t i c i z e d by both Richard Redgrave and Ralph Wornum, administrators and l e c t u r e r s at the Head School of Design i n London. 3 4 Their major c r i t i c i s m were of the unsuitableness of ornament to use (they were appalled at r e a l i s t i c flowers on carpets), the f a u l t y use of color, the lack of proportion and r e s t r a i n t , and the bulging masses of i n t r i c a t e ornament. [Figures 32 and 33] None of t h e i r c r i t i c i s m implied that the Schools of De- sign were to blame i n themselves, only the designers. Yet many of these designers had been t r a i n e d at the Schools of Design, the most important i n s t i t u t i o n concerned with the manufactured a r t s at mid- century. A c o n t r a d i c t i o n thus e x i s t e d within the Schools between the aims and means of the Schools, which stemmed from the many expecta- tions which d i f f e r e n t groups had of these institutions.-... The Schools themselves were under heavy c r i t i c i s m i n the late 1840's f o r not f u l f i l l i n g t h e i r primary r e s p o n s i b i l i t y of t r a i n i n g 35 i n d u s t r i a l designers. Late i n the century, Herbert von Herkomer complained that i n the f i e l d of decorative a r t , the s p e c i a l branch f o r which t h i s department was run, i t had f a i l e d egregiously, and William Morris had done more i n a few years to promote true decorative a r t than had been done by,,- South Kensington during the whole course of i t s existence. The Schools were r a r e l y popular* nonetheless, they had contributed to a change i n i n d u s t r i a l r e l a t i o n s h i p s which explained these c r i t i c i s m s , 1 6 3 Figure 32 164 165 both of s t y l e and of the a c t i v i t i e s of the Schools. By the e a r l y 1850's i n d u s t r i a l designers were no longer members of the working- c l a s s e s — t h e i r jobs were d i s t i n c t l y d i f f e r e n t and thus t h e i r r e l a - tionships to manufacturers and to the process of manufacture were d i f f e r e n t . The i n d u s t r i a l designer was no longer a man who sold h i s labor, but rather sold h i s s k i l l and i n many cases merely the r e s u l t of h i s s k i l l e d labor, the f i n i s h e d design. The Schools of Design had done much to b r i n g about t h i s change. The curriculum i n the Schools of Design aimed at the t r a i n i n g of a r t i s t s ; they were t r a i n e d as draughtsmen through the stages of drawing i n outline f i r s t and then graduating to shade and perspective. This s k i l l was sharpened on natural f o l i a g e , examples of h i s t o r i c a l ornament and even, i n some cases, the l i v e model. Only a f t e r t h i s preliminary t r a i n i n g which took months, perhaps several years, was the student permitted to attempt problems of design. I t should not be s u r p r i s i n g that there was a general tendency i n mid-Victorian de- sign to t r e a t manufactured a r t i c l e s a f t e r the manner of the f i n e a r t s , to paint flowers on carpets and to sculpt tables and c h a i r s . Also, i n abandoning the apprentice system, which was u t t e r l y incapable of producing enough designers to f i l l industry's needs, design and work t r a d i t i o n s were l o s t and were replaced by the academic h i s t o r i c a l a n a l y s i s of design. Design became an academic d i s c i p l i n e rather than a work d i s c i p l i n e , and although p r i n c i p l e s were dogmatic, t h e i r a p p l i - c a t i o n depended upon the varying i n t e r p r e t a t i o n s by i n d i v i d u a l de- signers. The Schools of Design d i d succeed, however, almost i n spite 1 6 6 o f t h e m s e l v e s * i n p r o d u c i n g i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n e r s . N o o t h e r g r o u p o f p e o p l e * a p a r t f r o m t h e w o r k i n g - c l a s s m e m b e r s d r a w n o u t o f f a c t o r y r a n k s * w e r e c a p a b l e o f d e s i g n i n g f o r i n d u s t r y . A l t h o u g h t h e i r t r a i n i n g w a s n o t e n t i r e l y s u i t a b l e f o r t h e i r e m p l o y m e n t i n p a r t i c u l a r i n d u s t r i e s * t h e y c o u l d a n d d i d d e s i g n f o r v a r i o u s i n d u s t r i e s * s e l l i n g t h e i r d e s i g n s r a t h e r t h a n t h e i r l a b o r . A l s o * b e c a u s e a f t e r a f e w y e a r s * t h e r e w e r e s o m a n y g r a d u a t e s o f t h e S c h o o l s , t h e i r e x p e c t a - t i o n s w e r e n o t h i g h a n d t h e y w e r e w i l l i n g t o w o r k w h e r e t h e y c o u l d . B e c a u s e o f t h i s , d e s i g n s w e r e r e l a t i v e l y c h e a p e r i n 1 8 5 0 t h a n t h e y h a d b e e n f o r y e a r s e a r l i e r . B u t t h e g a p b e t w e e n t h e k i n d o f w o r k t h a t i n d u s t r i a l d e s i g n e r s a n d w o r k e r s d i d c o n t i n u e d t o d e v e l o p a s i n d u s t r i e s e x t e n d e d t h e p r i n c i p l e o f t h e d i v i s i o n o f l a b o r . T h i s d i c h o t o m y b e t w e e n d e s i g n e r a n d w o r k e r a g g r a v a t e d t h e c h a o t i c s t y l e s i n t h e m i d - V i c t o r i a n p e r i o d . Q u i t e a p a r t f r o m R u s k i n ' s t h e o r y t h a t t h e d e g r a d i n g i n h u m a n i t y o f t h e i n d u s t r i a l s y s t e m w a s n e c e s s a r i l y d e s t r u c t i v e o f a r t , t h e s e p a r a t i o n o f d e s i g n e r a n d w o r k e r w i t h i n t h e c o n t e x t o f t h e a e s t h e t i c a n d i n s t i t u t i o n a l t r a d i t i o n s o f m i d - V i c t o r i a n a r t g r e a t l y c o n t r i b u t e d t o t h e e x u b e r a n t s t y l i s t i c e c l e c t i c i s m o f m i d - V i c t o r i a n d e s i g n . D e s p i t e t h e e c h o e s o f m o d e r n f u n c t i o n a l i s m f o u n d i n t h e w r i t i n g s o f P u g i n , W y a t t , J o n e s a n d R e d - g r a v e , d e s i g n m e a n t o r n a m e n t . O n e o f t h e s t a n d a r d t e x t s i n t h e S c h o o l s o f D e s i g n w a s O w e n J o n e s ' T h e G r a m m a r o f O r n a m e n t , a n i m - p r e s s i v e e n c y c l o p e d i a o f h i s t o r i c a l a n d e x o t i c o r n a m e n t a l m o t i f s , c a r e f u l l y c a t a l o g u e d a n d d e s c r i b e d a n d p r i n t e d i n c o l o r . L i k e m o s t o f h i s c o n t e m p o r a r i e s i n t h e S c h o o l s o f D e s i g n , J o n e s b e l i e v e d 1 6 7 that the study of h i s t o r i c a l s t y l e s was e s s e n t i a l i n understanding the u n i v e r s a l laws which governed ornament. He d i d not wish de- signers to he f a c i l e imitators of various s t y l e s but rather that, understanding the p r i n c i p l e s which informed a l l styles* they might i 3 9 create t r u l y o r i g i n a l designs f o r the modern t a s t e . Despite t h i s insistence on o r i g i n a l i t y , the e f f e c t of h i s t o r i c i s m i n the Schools was to accentuate the i m i t a t i v e aspects of V i c t o r i a n design. The only other major f i e l d of i n s p i r a t i o n , nature, f u r t h e r contributed to i m i t a t i v e work because students learned to draw accurately from nature before they were taught the p r i n c i p l e of conventionalizing natural forms. Thus i m i t a t i v e rather than creative endeavor formed the substance of the designer's education, and o r i g i n a l i t y generally lay i n the combination and d i s t o r t i o n of these motifs i n the a p p l i - c a t i o n rather than i n the c r e a t i o n of new motifs. [Figures 3 4 and 3 5 ] Because the designer d i c t a t e d to the worker, the methods of manufacture and t h e i r p o t e n t i a l f o r c o n t r i b u t i n g to design were sorely neglected. The designer imposed on the material and the mechanism of production h i s ideas; they r a r e l y suggested to him aes- t h e t i c p o s s i b i l i t i e s . And the only design p o s s i b i l i t i e s f o r the mid- V i c t o r i a n designer were those h i s t o r i c a l and natural motifs learned i n the Schools of Design. The designer was generally cut o f f from the manufacturing t r a d i t i o n s of the o l d hand-craft trades. The r e - s u l t s of t h i s t r a i n i n g and these r e l a t i o n s h i p s were at once v i s i b l e i n 1 8 5 1 and the demands f o r some kind of reform to avoid these r e - s u l t s were at once voiced. 168 169 Figure 35 170 These r e s u l t s were deplored by reformers then and l a t e r * how- ever* the passion f o r d e t a i l and ornament among the wealthier classes created a ready market f o r such productions. Already i n 1836 an i r o n foundry owner declared, We f i n d we cannot produce a r t i c l e s too expensive f o r the public taste of the present day. Could we employ a r t i s t s of a higher character,. I am s a t i s f i e d the p u b l i c would buy whatever was produced. Few a r t - l o v i n g peoples have demonstrated such a "horror v a c u i " as the mid-Victorians and the insistence on a crowded m u l t i p l i c i t y of ornament a f f e c t e d architecture as well as the manufactured a r t s . We hold i t almost as an axiom that there i s no i n t e r n a l por- t i o n of a b u i l d i n g , whether used f o r public or private pur- . poses, that does not admit of some kind of ornamental work, wherever the eye r e s t s , around or below, there should.be some- thing to a r r e s t attention, and that aims at pleasing. The a r t i f a c t s of middle-class V i c t o r i a n l i f e t e s t i f y to t h i s passion, and although the richness of surface decoration and model- l i n g may seem merely unruly to our eyes, the very profusion and magni- ficence of t h i s ornamentation i s s i g n i f i c a n t . I t can hardly be de- precated and written o f f as the ignorant materialism of a newly r i c h c l a s s , f o r these same tendencies e x i s t e d i n the work and taste of educated designers and connoisseurs. In t h e i r ornamental work, the mid-Victorians were neither shy or restrained, and i n t h e i r compli- cated and convoluted designs was an undeniable energy. Christopher Dresser's design symbolizing growth expressed a chaotic and explosive sense of design. [Figure 36] The best way to understand the aes- t h e t i c role of design i n mid-Victorian culture i s to understand the meaning of the energy which created and upheld i t . http://should.be 1.71 Figure 36 112 In the creative aspect, the paucity of s t r a i g h t l i n e s , es- p e c i a l l y i n the common-place tables and chairs which furnished every room, was due to the overgenerous a p p l i c a t i o n of the p r i n c i p l e that 42 curved l i n e s were more b e a u t i f u l than s t r a i g h t l i n e s . Ruskin con- s i s t e n t l y denounced the practice of the Schools of teaching students to draw s t r a i g h t l i n e s because he d i d not believe human beings ought to be able to draw s t r a i g h t l i n e s . Such p e r f e c t i o n was an a t t r i b u t e of machine work, or of human labor degraded to the l e v e l of machine work. Most of the c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of the mid-Victorian s t y l e , as opposed to the execution of that s t y l e , which are now considered a e s t h e t i c f a i l i n g s can be a t t r i b u t e d to t h e i r zeal f o r a r t i s t i c de- sign rather than to i n d i f f e r e n c e or ognorance. The manufactured a r t s were valued i n the 1850's as a e s t h e t i c objects and therefore, aes- t h e t i c considerations often completely overshadowed f u n c t i o n a l ones i n design. This explains why Richard Redgrave, i n h i s c r i t i c i s m of the designs of 1851* wrote: The major e r r o r of the E x h i b i t i o n i s over-ornamentation, an e r r o r which i s apt to sicken us of decoration, and leads us to admire those objects of absolute u t i l i t y (the machines and uten- s i l s of various kinds), where use i s so paramount that ornament • i s repudiated and f i t n e s s of purpose being the end sought, a noble s i m p l i c i t y w i l l r e s u l t . Redgrave was not one of the prophets of the modern movement i n which functionalism was the main a e s t h e t i c c r i t e r i o n ; he was merely reacting against the blindness to function which many designs demonstrated. Ornament was as necessary to Redgrave as i t was to William Morris, but they both rejected the s u b s t i t u t i o n of ornament, a l s o understood 173 as pure a r t , f o r an a r t i c l e which was intended to be u s e f u l . The major consumers of manufactured a r t and thus the audience f o r which these designs were created was the middle-classes. The reasons why they accepted such design were more complex than the reasons why they were created. U n t i l the 1860's middle-class taste emulated the old a r i s t o c r a t i c taste which had developed i n the pre- ceeding two centuries. Even the new Gothic taste of the nineteenth century was e s s e n t i a l l y an a r i s t o c r a t i c one. The a r i s t o c r a c y had, a f t e r a l l , the only t r a d i t i o n of indulging a e s t h e t i c whims with wealth and power. Yet the a r i s t o c r a t i c t r a d i t i o n developed out of a r u r a l - based power system which involved s p e c i a l p o l i t i c a l and s o c i a l r e - s p o n s i b i l i t i e s , and the number of craftsmen who produced t h e i r manu- factured a r t had been l i m i t e d . The middle-classes entered t h i s t r a d i - t i o n , cherishing the things they associated with i t , but were unable to enter i n t o the r e l a t i o n s h i p s which had made i t v i t a l , and were u n w i l l i n g to r e l i n q u i s h t h e i r own a t t i t u d e s and a c t i v i t i e s which made i t meaningless. In her novel, North and South, Mrs. Gaskell exposed t h i s tension between the new l i f e of the middle-classes and the old a r i s t o c r a t i c tastes which the middle-class characters had taken up. Mrs. Hale would have been more than i n t e r e s t e d , — s h e would have been astonished, i f she had seen the sumptuousness of the dinner-table and i t s appointments. Margeret, with her London c u l t i v a t e d taste, f e l t the number of d e l i c a c i e s to be oppres- sive; one h a l f of the quantity would have been enough, and the e f f e c t l i g h t e r and more elegant. But i t was one of Mrs. Thorn- ton" s rigorous laws of h o s p i t a l i t y , that of each separate dainty enough should be provided f o r a l l the guests to partake, i f they f e l t i n c l i n e d . Careless to abstemiousness i n her d a i l y habits, i t was part of her pride to set a feast before such of 174 her guests as cared f o r i t . Her son shared t h i s f e e l i n g . He had never known—though he might have imagined* and had the. c a p a b i l i t y to r e l i s h — a n y kind of society but that which de- pended on an exchange of superb meals... There was no one u p s t a i r s i n the drawing-room but Mrs. Thorn- ton and Fanny. Every cover was taken off* and the apartment blazed f o r t h i n yellow s i l k damask and a b r i l l i a n t l y flowered carpet. Every corner seemed f i l l e d up with ornament* u n t i l i t became a weariness to the eye* and presented a strange con- t r a s t to the b a l d ugliness of the look-out i n t o the great m i l l - yard* where wide f o l d i n g gates were thrown open f o r the ad- ?; \ emission of carriages. Here i s the oppressive materialism and* too* a suggestion that the Thorntons are victims of ignorance. These are minor considera- tions* however* compared with how very much the Thorntons cared f o r t h i s display because i t s i g n i f i e d graciousness to them* and the i n - congruity between these forms of graciousness and the way of l i f e that the Thorntons led i n the shadow of t h e i r f a c t o r y . This incon- g r u i t y i s emphasized by the f a c t that the Thorntons themselves r a r e l y used t h e i r drawing-room* and when they were not entertaining* every- t h i n g was covered to protect i t from dust. And i t i s symbolic that Mr. Thornton* the factory owner* was learning the c l a s s i c s * the premier symbol of a r i s t o c r a t i c c u l t i v a t i o n * from a t i r e d o l d country parson who had l o s t h i s f a i t h and resigned h i s l i v i n g . The Thorntons had taken into t h e i r clumsy but vigorous hands the forms of a moribund culture* because these forms represented the best things i n l i f e . Yet t h e i r own experiences and s i t u a t i o n made them i n t e r p r e t these forms i n a way which seemed incongruous* even oppressive* to an ob- server l i k e Margeret* who had l i v e d among the o l d c u l t u r e . The two most s i g n i f i c a n t changes f o r the l a t e r development of V i c t o r i a n d e s i g n — t h e r i s e of the independent designer* and the com- 175 b i n a t i o n of middle-class wealth and t h e i r willingness to spend i t on a r t and ornament—resulted from the system of i n d u s t r i a l manufacture which strove f o r the most e f f i c i e n t methods of production i n order to return higher p r o f i t s . The foundation of the changing character of the manufactured a r t market i n the l a t e 1860's and 1870's there- fore lay within the organization of the i n d u s t r i a l and f i n a n c i a l worlds. Any proposed reform which aimed at the reorganization of those worlds i n order to change conditions i n the manufactured a r t s would destroy the two factors which had already by the 1870's done so much to improve those a r t s . Designers d i s l i k e d the mechanistic modes of production i n industry because they replaced the free human e f f o r t which they b e l i e v e d was necessary to a r t work. But most professionals accepted the machine as an i n e v i t a b l e e v i l , and middle-class consumers, i f they associated t h e i r incomes with working conditions i n industry, were consoled by the f a c t that by buying good manufactured a r t , they 45 were a i d i n g the cause of a r t . The r i s e of the independent designer was s i g n i f i c a n t , but the single most important change, without which even Morris and Company might have languished i n e c c l e s i a s t i c a l decoration, was the awakening of the middle-classes to the importance of a r t i n t h e i r surroundings, and the development of domestic a r c h i t e c t u r e i n accordance with t h i s 46 i n t e r e s t . As t h i s i n t e r e s t developed, and possibly one of the reasons f o r i t , the tastes of the middle-classes were breaking away from the a e s t h e t i c t r a d i t i o n s of the a r i s t o c r a c y and developing along new l i n e s . I d e a l i s t painting, which f l o u r i s h e d i n a number of s p e c i - 176 f i c styles* emphasized r e s t r a i n t * proportion* elegance* and c l e a r and harmonious c o l o r . And i t was i n some ways a c t i v e l y c r i t i c a l of contemporary design. But i t was the decorative work of a r t i s t s and a r c h i t e c t s i n t h e i r own homes which provided concrete models f o r a reform of contemporary design standards and created the fashion f o r p a r t i c u l a r s t y l e s . William Morris' experiments are well known* but he was neither the f i r s t or the l a s t a r t i s t to f i n d contemporary work unsatisfactory and to create h i s own. A. W. N. Pugin had done p r e c i s e l y that i n the 47 1 o 4 0's. The fashion f o r blue and white* and i n c i d e n t a l l y f o r pieces of f u r n i t u r e designed to display porcelain* began i n the 1 8 6 0's* when 4 8 Whistler and Rossetti started t h e i r c o l l e c t i o n s . Throughout the 1 8 6 0's and 1 8 7 0's a r t i s t s * on the strength of the higher p r i c e s they received f o r t h e i r works* designed and i n many cases decorated t h e i r homes as an exercise of t h e i r a r t i s t i c s k i l l s and s e n s i t i v i t y . Leigh- ton's home with i t s exotic Arab h a l l * and Alma-Tadema's l a v i s h use of marble i n h i s home were opulent examples of t h e i r a e s t h e t i c pre- d i l e c t i o n s * where Whistler's p l a i n White House i n Chelsea c l e a r l y demonstrated h i s severe taste. [Figures 37 and 3 8 ] Houses were a f i e l d f o r a r t i s t i c expression and a l s o a haven f o r individualism* even e c c e n t r i c i t y . Nor were a r t i s t s the only ones to L .treat t h e i r homes as works of a r t . A l f r e d Morrison* Frederick Lehmann and George Howard commissioned houses from Owen Jones* George A i t c h i s o n and P h i l l i p Webb, respectively* with i n t e r i o r decoration i n each case 4 9 undertaken by Jones* A l b e r t Moore,"and William Morris. The home* Figure 3 7 Figure 38 179 as an i d e a l * undoubtedly f i l l e d a vacuum which others besides a r t i s t s perceived i n V i c t o r i a n c u l t u r a l l i f e . We are too much accustomed i n these days of locomotion* to look upon our houses as mere h a l t i n g places between the stages of our journey through l i f e * and to treat them with as l i t t l e respect as i f they were inns or railway s t a t i o n s . Surely there .v should be some s a n c t i t y about our homes! The place where we were born* or where we began the new married l i f e * where our c h i l d r e n were born—and died perhaps—and where wg hope at l e a s t to die* should have some claim on our reverence.-3 In many ways* e s p e c i a l l y i n so f a r as the home provided a f i e l d f o r the expression of s p i r i t u a l values* the l o s t impulse of r e l i g i o n i n a r t revived somewhat as a r t i s t s t r a n s f e r r e d ^ t h e i r reverence from the houses of God to the houses of men. By 1867 the p o s s i b i l i t i e s of domestic a r t seemed so promising that Charles Eastlake* an architect-designer and the nephew of the former President of the Royal Academy* published Hints On Household Taste* the f i r s t major statement of the new a r t i s t i c g o s p e l . J I t was an i n f l u e n t i a l book and although i n England Eastlake's reputation was soon e c l i p s e d by those of other designers* i n America* Eastlake's influence was so strong that h i s name was given to a s t y l e of f u r n i - ture (of which he h e a r t i l y disapproved). In h i s book* Eastlake pursued two d i f f e r e n t themes* and they described the basic problems with which the new designers and consumers had to deal. The intimate connection* f o r good and bad* between the f i n e a r t s and the manufactured a r t s concerned Eastlake and he observed: . . . i t must be evident to a l l who have thought earnestly on the &}J ;>'•: —sub jeet* tthat there i s an intimate connection between t h i s f a l l i n g o f f i n the excellence of our manufactures* and the tame vapid character which distinguished even our best painter's work i n the early part of the present V i c t o r i a n age.... National 180 a r t i s not a thing which we may enclose i n a g i l t frame and hang upon our walls, or which can he locked up i n the cabinet of a c o l l e c t o r . To be genuine and permanent, i t ought to a n i - mate with the same s p i r i t the blacksmith's forge and the sculp- tor's a t e l i e r , the painter's studio and the haberdasher's shop. In the great ages of a r t i t was so. This was an echo of Waagen's testimony i n 1836 and i t had i t s counter- part i n the writings of Ruskin and Morris, although the..;specific r e - l a t i o n s h i p s between the f i n e a r t s and manufactured a r t s was viewed d i f f e r e n t l y by each of them. The importance of t h i s assumed r e l a - t i o n s h i p i n the minds of V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t s and designers was i t s e f - f e c t on the second theme of Eastlake's book—the costs of good design. The c h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of the new s t y l e i n domestic design evolving i n the l a t e 1860's obscured i n some ways the r e a l i t i e s of the manu- factured a r t market. In 1867, the same year as the p u b l i c a t i o n of Eastlakes's book, the Art Journal reviewed a French p u b l i c a t i o n on domestic decoration and noted that i n most cases "taste was l e s s 54 c o s t l y than d i s p l a y . " The importance of c o l o r as a decorative motif allowed walls to be merely painted rather than papered or panelled. The emphasis on s i m p l i c i t y of design seemed to promise that a r t i c l e s would cost l e s s because l e s s work would a c t u a l l y be done on them, e s p e c i a l l y f u r n i t u r e since i n t r i c a t e carving was no longer fashionable. Yet as Eastlake pointed out, the cost of good design was i n f a c t much higher than bad. A f e e l i n g i s , I t r u s t , being gradually awakened i n favour of •art f u r n i t u r e ' . But the u n i v e r s a l obstacle to i t s popularity up to the present time has been the cost which i t e n t a i l s on people of ordinary means. And t h i s i s a very natural obstacle. I t would be quixotic to expect any one but a wealthy enthusiast to pay twice as much as h i s neighbour f o r chairs and tables i n the cause of a r t . 181 Eastlake's answer to the problem of costs was to increase the demand f o r 'art f u r n i t u r e ' and to increase supply, which would lower the p r i c e s . As to whether demand or supply must be increased f i r s t , he was l e s s precise; he wavered between blaming buyers f o r not r e - cognizing and demanding b e t t e r design, producers f o r not manufacturing 56 i t and making i t more a v a i l a b l e . But the a r t market, as the market i n paintings c l e a r l y demonstrated, rested on a p e c u l i a r complex of supply and demand i n which s p i r i t u a l and material values mingled and clashed. The assumption that the same s p i r i t must animate the black- smith's forge and the painter's studio was stronger i n the minds of the i d e a l i s t s than i t had been among mid-Victorian a r t i s t s . Burne- Jones, Leighton, Whistler, Poynter, Moore and Walter Crane a l l under- 57 took decoration work i n p u b l i c and private b u i l d i n g s . As the decora- t i v e aspects of i d e a l i s t p a i n t i n g became accepted as the a r t i s t i c q u a l i t i e s of a l l a r t , the decorative p o s s i b i l i t i e s i n i n d u s t r i a l and domestic design were viewed as more purely a r t i s t i c . When F r i t h con- temptuously r e f e r r e d to Whistler's work as no b e t t e r than the a r t i n colored wallpaper or a piece of s i l k , he inadvertently stated the equality of the a r t s which Oscar Wilde l a t e r proclaimed as an aesthete. Because the independent designer l i v e d through the sale of h i s designs, not h i s labor, he was more r e a d i l y accepted as an a r t i s t by society. As an a r t i s t , the p r e v a i l i n g standards of a r t were imposed on the designer, the c h i e f of these being that a r t had to e x h i b i t •59 human workmanship.' The e f f e c t of t h i s e l e v a t i o n of the designer to a r t i s t on the manufactured a r t s was decisive, and the subsequent deve- lopment of the domestic r e v i v a l and the a r t s and c r a f t s movement 182 depended on i t . The most immediate r e s u l t and one which the widening market never d i d o b l i t e r a t e was the higher costs of good design. The aim of the new i d e a l was f o r a l l work to appear hand-wrought, and while some designers d i d t h i s by producing a r t i c l e s by hand, even those that d i d design f o r machine work attempted to make the design appear hand-wrought. Although machine work promised b e n e f i t s f o r the lower-classes i n l e i s u r e and cheaper goods, i t was s t i l l viewed by designers as an unavoidable e v i l . Even J . D. Sedding, who was not unsympathetic to machine work, declared, "Art i s human or ' t i s nothing. 60 Real l i f e forms i t s substance as well as i t s garniture." But what was t h i s human element, and what a c t u a l l y comprised the hand imprint i n design? The importance of h i s t o r i c a l ornament i n t h i s context was quite c l e a r ; as Gothic design i n architecture was associated with r e l i g i o n , so i n i n d u s t r i a l design a s i m i l a r a s s o c i a t i o n operated. Ornament with a h i s t o r y of f i n e hand work, e s p e c i a l l y designs with uneven parts and proportions such as Gothic c a p i t a l s or Venetian glass, was associated with human freedom and genius. Perfection, e s p e c i a l l y perfect f i n i s h and exact symmetry, was associated with the machine, with l i f e l e s s n e s s 6 1 and meanes.s.' 'u In the manufactured a r t s as i n the f i n e a r t s , genius was valued because i t represented that aspect of human labor which the machine could not reproduce. Although i n the 1870's those q u a l i t i e s of design which i d e a l i s t p a i n t i n g demonstrated were emphasized—elegance, c l e a r and harmonious color, proportion, r e s t r a i n t , and i d e a l f o r m s — h i s t o r i c i s m continued to influence designers strongly and Morris had 183 a copy of Jones' Grammer of Ornament on h i s bookshelf.""^ Along the same l i n e s , naturalism remained strong i n design be- cause natural growth remained beyond the ken and control of science and the machine. But naturalism f o r designers i n the 1870's had to be conventional rather than n a u t r a l i s t c and, as with h i s t o r i c a l motifs, i t was studied not i n order to imitate forms but rather f o r the de- signer to create b e a u t i f u l and human ornament through an i n s t i n c t i v e understanding of the i n e f f a b l e p r i n c i p l e s at work i n nature and i n o l d a r t work. A designer acquaints himself with natural form, natural color, natural growth and so f o r t h , and e s p e c i a l l y with everything suggestive to him of ornament. But i n designing he uses not so much these as memories of them. Just so much of nature as comes to him at the moment, and just that i n nature which comes unbidden i s to the purpose. The rest i s overmuch. Ornament can digest no more. And as with natural motives,, so with suggestions from o l d work. What has become so much a part of a man that he i s no longer conscious whence he had i t , does not r e a l i z e that i t i s not e n t i r e l y h i s own, that he may make use of. More than that i t i s dangerous^ to borrow, i f he would keep a l i v e i n him the f a c u l t y of design. Yet t h i s was what the Schools of Design had taught since t h e i r foundation and there i s no reason that the designers of the 1870's should have understood^it b e t t e r than those of the 1850's. However, under the influence of i d e a l i s t painting, Ruskin's propaganda and the fashions f o r exotic ornament such as Japanese, designers i n the l a t e r period took d i f f e r e n t motifs as t h e i r own. The a e s t h e t i c fad f o r the sunflower and l i l y and the peacock was an exaggerated c e l e - c r a t i o n of these new motifs which were i n f a c t more suitable to the kind of conventional designs which mid-Victorian designers had pur- 184 sued than were the grand motifs of the Gothic and I t a l i a n a t e design. Designers i n architecture and the manufactured a r t s i n the l a t e 1860's and 1870's c e r t a i n l y tended to be less i m i t a t i v e of h i s t o r i c a l motifs than mid-Victorian designers* and yet they demonstrated neither the abandon of a r t nouveau or the s t e r i l i t y of functionalism. [Figures 39 and 40] In a r t h i s t o r y the designs of the 1870's may be labeled " t r a n s i t i o n a l * . " but i t would be misleading i f the student of c u l t u r a l l i f e therefore assumed that these designs only imperfectly r e a l i z e d i d e a l s which flowered i n e i t h e r the 1890's or the e a r l y twentieth century. Design i n the 1870's s a t i s f i e d the a e s t h e t i c preferences and the commercial r e a l i t i e s which were p e c u l i a r to the period; i t was a f r u i t * not a seedling* i n the eyes of contemporaries. The standards of the best manufactured a r t were the antique hand workmanship of s k i l l e d craftsmen i n p r e - i n d u s t r i a l s o c i e t i e s . Seventeenth century furniture* o r i e n t a l rugs* eastern porcelain* l a t e medieval t a p e s t r i e s and Venetian glass embodied some of the i d e a l s which contemporary design emulated. Designers copied not only the decorative motifs and p r i n c i p l e s they discerned i n such work* but a l s o the manufacturing methods which produced them. William Morris was an extreme example of t h i s f i d e l i t y * both to p r i n c i p l e s of design and methods of production* but the same sentiment pervaded the Schools of Design and influenced Lewis F. Day and Christopher Dresser as w e l l . Even Eastlake i n 1867 suggested that the r e l a t i o n s h i p between designer* worker and the process of manufacture ought to be s i m i l a r to that which had e x i s t e d i n the i d e a l i z e d worshops which Waagen so admired 165 ,tfrf * Figure 3 9 186 Figure 40 187 i n 1836, but with an important d i f f e r e n c e . Now, though the age of old woodwork does, indeed, enhance the beauty of i t s colour, that i s by no means i t s highest recom- mendation. The r e a l secret of i t s value l i e s i n the immense s u p e r i o r i t y of ancient over modern workmanship, both as regards joinery and decorative carving.... At the present time, when d i r e c t supervision i s exercised by a q u a l i f i e d designer, and i n the c l a s s of f u r n i t u r e which i s c a l l e d ' a r t i s t i c 1 , more a t - t e n t i o n i s given £p t h i s branch [ j o i n e r y ] and the r e s u l t i s very d i f f e r e n t . . . This was not the equal partnership of a r t i s t and worker which Waagen wished to r e - e s t a b l i s h ; i n Eastlake's mind c l e a r l y the designer over- saw and c o n t r o l l e d a l l aspects of production, using the s k i l l e d worker as a kind of superior t o o l i n the c r a f t i n g of a designed product. The involvement of the designer i n a l l aspects of production, and the necessity of using h i g h l y s k i l l e d workers who were capable of c a r r y i n g out the designer's ideas meant that such work must be c o s t l y . The willingness of c o l l e c t o r s and much of the c u l t i v a t e d middle-classes to spend money on the manufactured a r t s was absolutely c r u c i a l to t h i s development. Their willingness stemmed from t h e i r i n f a t u a t i o n with a r t as a symbol of the good l i f e and even of goodness i t s e l f . Of course, without t h i s f i n a n c i a l basis, so much of the painstaking workmanship which characterized the best pieces of the a r t s and c r a f t s movement would not have been p o s s i b l e . Neither, pro- bably, could the i n d u s t r i a l designer have moved so e a s i l y into the sphere of the f i n e a r t s . By the late 1880's designers were as neces- sary and as important to the V i c t o r i a n a r t world as were painters and a r c h i t e c t s . ^ Yet hand work was not the only kind of work a f f e c t e d by the 188 changes i n the market i n the 1870's* and the adaption of designs to machine work was one of the triumphs of the period. The i n e v i t a b i l i t y of the machine was recognized by Lewis F. Day* who wrote: A designer* whatever h i s natural g i f t * i s of no p r a c t i c a l use u n t i l he i s at home with the conditions of manufacture. I t i s only when he knows f u l l well the d i f f i c u l t i e s of the case that he i s i g 7 a p o s i t i o n to avoid or meet them—according to h i s courage. The conditions i n manufacture were i n most industries* at least i n part* mechanical* and even Day saw i t as a threat to good design which must be met with courage. But the advantages of machine work* es- p e c i a l l y the lower costs of production* could not be denied and there were many manufacturers around i n the 1870's eager to take advantage of the domestic a r t market. As the Schools of Design had succeeded i n t r a i n i n g some students i n methods of adapting designs to machine production, there was s k i l l enough to adapt hand-wrought patterns to machines. There was a ready market f o r these productions because the new s t y l e was fashionable but a l s o expensive. Lazenby L i b e r t y ' s warehouse of a r t manufactures catered to a l e s s e r c l i e n t e l e than d i d Morris and Company, and below L i b e r t y ' s were s t i l l more and f a r cheaper 68 shops, most of whose products were machine made. The d i s t i n c t i o n between hand and machine work, obvious i n such products as f u r n i t u r e and needlework, d i d not divide manufactured a r t into two d i s t i n c t categories. There were methods of manufacture i n which the hand and machine were recognized as respectable partners, or where hand work was merely tedious and i t s a e s t h e t i c advantages, a c c i d e n t a l . Such was the case i n block-printed wallpaper. Designers, 1.89 i n c l u d i n g Morris and Day* drew patterns on blocks which were then cut by other hands and the papers printed by J e f f r e y and.Company* an i n - 69 dependent manufacturer. The a c t u a l drawing of the pattern was the only task that was not purely mechanical and whether the a c t u a l p r i n t i n g was done by hand or by machine made only one difference to the result* a difference a r i s i n g from the drying times of d i f f e r e n t inks. The much longer time required f o r hand p r i n t i n g over machine r o l l e r p r i n t i n g allowed the use of a thicker* more opaque ink* which could dry between hand p r i n t i n g s but which would smudge on the r o l l e r s . The high cost of manufactured a r t i n the 1870's and l a t e r was due p a r t l y to the expensive hand work* but i t was also due* and perhaps more d e c i s i v e l y * to the involvement of the designer i n a l l phases of production. Most designers* of course* merely drew up designs f o r i n d u s t r i e s which were then adapted to methods of manufacture by strange hands. But an important part of V i c t o r i a n design t r a d i t i o n was the emphasis on the designer understanding the methods of production and c o n t r o l l i n g h i s design from h i s f i r s t conception to the f i n i s h e d product. One of the reasons that hand work was so much more s a t i s - f y i n g to V i c t o r i a n designers was because the designer* committed to hand-wrought motifs* could more e a s i l y v i s u a l i z e and control the out- come of hand work. A l l the most notable names i n V i c t o r i a n design* from Pugin through the a r t s and c r a f t s movement, c l o s e l y supervised the production of t h e i r designs, i n many cases even t r a i n e d the workers 70 who executed them. This s t r i c t d i r e c t i o n of a l l phases of production tended to increase the costs of f i n i s h e d products by l i m i t i n g the 190 production of works, as the work of one man was n e c e s s a r i l y l i m i t e d , and by adding the cost of the designer's time and e f f o r t , which was more valuable than any worker. These conditions a l l sprang from the conviction summed up by W. R. Lethaby i n Art and Workmanship, "Every work of a r t shows that i t was made by a human being f o r a human being. Although the domestic r e v i v a l both i n a r c h i t e c t u r e and the manu- factured a r t s began long before the a e s t h e t i c movement, i t became an i n t e g r a l part of the f i c t i o n of the movement. In one aspect, the mania f o r blue and white porcelain, the domestic a r t s a c t u a l l y pre- ceeded the f i n e a r t s i n the a e s t h e t i c movement. Du Maurier's "china- maniacs" appeared i n Punch i n the e a r l y 1870's, and i n 1874 the Montgomery S p i f f i n s e s appeared i n a Du Maurier cartoon with a newly decorated drawing-room c e i l i n g . [Figures 41 and 42] One of the reasons that the domestic r e v i v a l became a target f o r caricature and was taken up as a part of aestheticism was because i t represented the extension of a r t i s t i c s e n s i b i l i t i e s i n t o a new sphere. Therefore i t was an example of a r t ' s a b i l i t y to reform an aspect of l i f e by making i t more d e l i g h t f u l and g i v i n g i t a new meaning. The r e a l i z a t i o n that the home was a refuge from commercial values, where the enduring human experiences of love, innocence of childhood, compassion, even g r i e f and consolation provided the context f o r the c o l l e c t i o n and appreciation of a l l kinds of a r t work. The manufactured a r t s were deeply involved i n the anti-modern sentiment which pervaded the a r t enthusiasm of the 1870's. The a n t i - c a p i t a l i s t passion which animated Morris and others within the a r t s and c r a f t s movement was only one Figure 41 ;••".>.':'. A R T IN E X C E L S I S . T H E M O N T G O M E R Y S P I F F I N S E S HATJt JIT8T H A D T H E I R DfiAWlNCl-KoOM C E I L I N G E L A B O R A T E L Y D E C O R A T E D B Y A R T I S T I C H A K D S . T H R Y A R B M U C H o i u T i r i E D B Y T H E S E N S A T I O N r a o D D C E D u r o H T H E I R F R I E N D S . Figure 42 193 aspect of the general discontent with modern conditions. As i n the f i n e a r t s , designers who were not opposed to the s o c i a l and economic foundations of modern industry s t i l l lamented the contrary aims of a r t and commerce. Designers of the present day do not l i v e under conditions the most favorable to t h e i r a r t . I t i s t h e i r misfortune that they are not l e f t to wbrkioutothe v e i n of design natural to them, but are c o n t i n u a l l y c a l l e d o f f i n some other d i r e c t i o n . What matter i f there i s gold or s i l v e r i n the neglected working, i f i t i s brass or pewter which happens to be the fashion? We are free neither to follow t r a d i t i o n nor to perfect a s t y l e , be i t ever so d i s t i n c t l y our own. I t i s the g l i t t e r of newness which a t t r a c t s . This i s the more s i g n i f i c a n t because i t presumes a past freedom which never existed; the i n d u s t r i a l designer of the 1870's was, i f anything, f r e e r to develop h i s s t y l e than were o l d craftsmen who received d i r e c t d i c t a t i o n from buyers. The lament i s i n f a c t a c r i t i c i s m of the d i s c i p l i n e s of the machine age, the necessity of being prudent and marketable, the impersonality of the market and the vulgar fashions of a large and incoherent mass of consumers. By the late 1870's, despite Morris' l a t e r defection to Marxism, the enemy of a r t and culture was not merely the middle-classes and i n d u s t r i a l i s m , without both of which the a r t i s t i c r e v i v a l never would have existed, but rather modernity i t s e l f and a l l the mechanical rhythms of modern l i f e . The enduring h i s t o r i c i s m of the V i c t o r i a n a r t i s t i c t r a d i t i o n and the passion f o r the eternal forms of nature were evidence that the V i c t o r i a n a r t consciousness stood steadfast f o r the c u l t u r a l l i f e of the past against the imposition of the modern rhythm of a c t i v i t y , of which the great symbol was the machine. In the 194 struggle f o r a r t , the working c l a s s was no more an a l l y than the mid- dle c l a s s ; they suffered more from the machine than any group hut they also had much to gain from the wealth which e f f i c i e n t i n d u s t r i a l i z a t i o n generated. Even Morris believed that the workers could revive a r t i n a new society, not simply because of t h e i r r e l a t i o n s h i p to the means of production but because a l l human labor was capable of a r t ; i t was i n a r t i s t s rather than i n workers that Morris believed and trusted. In 1870 when news of the P a r i s commune reached Ruskin, he r e j o i c e d i n the revolutionary e f f o r t u n t i l he received news of the burning of the Louvre and, r e c a l l i n g Burckhardt's r e a c t i o n i n Basle, Ruskin r e j e c t e d communism 73 as yet another barbaric side of modernity. In painting, a r t i s t s strove to r i s e above these obstacles i n order to perfect t h e i r s t y l e and assert t h e i r pure i n d i v i d u a l i t y . In indus- t r i a l l i f e , the designer had to deal with many of these obstacles, to accommodate himself to t h e i r d i r e c t i o n s and according to Day, t h i s was part of a designer's a r t i s t i c duty. " I t rests with those who have some f a c u l t y of design ( t h e i r name i s not legion) to come to the a i d of manu- facture, which, without help from a r t , i s given over to the ugliness 74 they deplore." I n d u s t r i a l designers were therefore, despite t h e i r intimate and l a s t i n g sojourn i n enemy t e r r i t o r y , worthy champions of aestheticism over P h i l i s t i n i s m . As Walter Crane saw i t , i t was a holy war i n which design, as a r t ' s weapon, might carry the b a t t l e deep i n h o s t i l e t e r r i t o r y . Turn where we w i l l , we must confront the enemy, however, and each do h i s part towards the s o l u t i o n of the problem... But new d i f f i c u l t i e s must be met by new methods, and when we go f o r t h i n our warpaint, tatooed, as i t were, with the whole grammar of 195 ornament* to meet the monsters of our time c l a d i n plate glass and iron* or f o r t i f i e d i n desirable residences* l e t us not f o r - get the s l i n g and stone of i n d i v i d u a l thought and judgment* and that i t may yet be potent to put to f l i g h t the armies of the P h i l i s t i n e s . . Yet the dependence of aestheticism upon P h i l i t i n i s m * i f under- stood as the dependence of a r t production on industry and commerce* was inescapable i n the manufactured a r t s . The s o l u t i o n to the problem of opposing tendencies of a r t i s t i c and commercial values was sought i n the separation of these two aspects of modern c u l t u r e . In 1881* the E a r l of Derby declared* We do not boast of a e s t h e t i c c o t t o n - m i l l s . I have seen one or two attempts i n that d i r e c t i o n * but on the whole* the less s a i d about them the b e t t e r . But I think our law courts* our town h a l l s * our free l i b r a r i e s * and public b u i l d i n g s of that sort*.-even i n our poor smoky Lancashire* w i l l bear a r c h i t e c t u r a l comparison with the most modern European work I know, A great writer i s perpetually i n c u l c a t i n g the theory that so long as we l i v e i n smoky towns and use steam-engines and b u i l d t a l l chimneys* i t i s no use our t r y i n g to be a r t i s t i c . Well* that seems to be a hard doctrine...and i f E n g l i s h a r t i s only to begin to f l o u r i s h when E n g l i s h manufactures cease* I am a f r a i d i t w i l l have a very long time to wait* nor would people u t t e r l y impoverished care (- much f o r anything that was not necessary f o r t h e i r subsistence.' In many ways the 1870's and e a r l y 1880's was a great age f o r manufactured a r t . Not only were there many able designers producing works which s a t i s f i e d the most c r i t i c a l tastes but they also were popular works which sold w e l l . There was every reason f o r optimism* both f o r the future of a r t and the future of manufacturing. I t was t h i s part of the a e s t h e t i c movement—the sunflower dados and peacock- patterned t i l e s — w h i c h gave credence to the widespread f i c t i o n that there was an a r t movement* f o r c e r t a i n l y the outward forms of ornament seemed new and represented a new order. [Figures 43 and 44] Yet the conditions upon which t h i s effulgence rested were ephemeral and the tremendous problems which had always plagued i n d u s t r i a l design were 196 Figure 4 3 197 198 not solved. The domestic r e v i v a l and the a e s t h e t i c movement generally i n a l l i t s a r t i s t i c productions rested on the wealth which the middle classes were w i l l i n g to spend on a r t work. As long as they were con- vinced of the pricelessness of a r t i s t i c expression and had the money c to pursue a r t , the movement flourished* both i n the handicraft indus- t r i e s and i n the a t e l i e r s . But economic d i f f i c u l t i e s took t h e i r t o l l on a r t i n d u s t r i e s , which were more susceptible to market pressures than were painters, e s p e c i a l l y when designers chose to put t h e i r a r t i s t i c i n t e g r i t y above the commercial r e a l i t i e s of the marketplace, or were 77 ignorant of those conditions. Pew of the a r t s and c r a f t s i n d u s t r i e s survived more than a few years. Also the domestic r e v i v a l had aimed i t s reforms more at the consumer and the designer than at the workers i n a r t i n d u s t r i e s . Por one thing, the r e l a t i o n s h i p of the worker to the designer and the pro- cess of manufacture had been f i x e d pragmatically; i t was impossible to t r a i n a l l workers as designers and i n p r a c t i c e , a r t workers became highly s k i l l e d i n a s p e c i f i c aspect of production i n order to f a c i l - i t a t e the accurate reproduction of designs. Nothing more could be done about the worker, to improve design. The reform movements had concentrated on the designer and h i s freedom and the education of public taste and even Morris believed that a l l workers ought to be designers and a l l men ought to work. But because designers were accepted as a r t i s t s , t h e i r problems were very d i f f e r e n t from those of the majority of the working c l a s s , even the s k i l l e d laborers i n a r t i n d u s t r i e s . I t was no coincidence that Morris began h i s missionary a c t i v i t y i n the l a t e 1870's when the fate of a r t and the fate of the working c l a s s were being severed; f o r him the d i v i s i o n was f a l s e * as workers had to be a r t i s t s as well. Yet i f i n d u s t r i a l a r t had any hope of being democratic* of being r e a d i l y a v a i l a b l e to the multitude* Morris 1 i d e n t i f i c a t i o n had to be relinquished. A f t e r the enthusiasm f o r domestic a r t died and the market turned to newer s t y l e s i n the 1890's and e a r l y twentieth century* the handicraft designer* the a r t worker as Morris defined him* was an expensive commodity on the luxury market. CR. Ashbee* one of Morris' d i s c i p l e s lamented decades l a t e r * "We have made of a great s o c i a l movement* a narrow and tiresome l i t t l e 78 a r i s t o c r a c y working with great s k i l l f o r the very r i c h . " In both the f i n e and manufactured a r t s then* the aesthetic movement was a f i c t i o n created both by those who championed what they saw as the new freedom of a r t and those who feared that such freedom merely signaled the beginning of a r t ' s estrangement from the serious and v i t a l experiences of a l l human l i f e . The movement was then a c r e a t i o n of hopes and fears* a straw-man whose substantial r e ^ a l i t y was the r e s u l t of vigorous but confused a c t i v i t y . In f a c t the groups who supported aestheticism and those that condemned or r i d i c u l e d i t were often very a l i k e i n t h e i r love of a r t and t h e i r b e l i e f i n i t s importance to modern c u l t u r e . A f t e r the c r i s i s i n the V i c t o r i a n a r t consciousness which accompanied the r i s e of the new s t y l e s and new methods i n the a r t world i n the 1860's* i n the heady optimism of the delight with new forms and ideas* quite d i s s i m i l a r ideas* a c t i v i t i e s and people were grouped together because they seemed to f u r t h e r the cause of a r t . Even "the cause of a r t " * so near to so many hearts* became a blanket which covered a multitude of aims and i d e a l s . Within 200 the a r t world, these differences were quite c l e a r hut the outsider and the neophyte saw these things i n a l i g h t which cast no shadows, the b r i g h t l i g h t of a new age. 201 FOOTNOTES 1 Ferriday, i'Peacock Room," A r c h i t e c t u r a l Review, CXXV (June, 1959)> 411; A. Welby Pugin, The True P r i n c i p l e s and Revival of C h r i s t i a n A r c h i t e c - ture (London, 1853). 2 Great B r i t a i n , Report from the Committee on Arts, H.C., 1836 (568), IX, 16, 17* 33; Great B r i t a i n , Reports and Documents, E x h i b i t i n g the State and Progress of the Head and Branch Schools of Design, H.C., I85O (731 )* XLII, 337-8; N e i l McKendrick, "Josiah Wedgwood and Factory D i s c i p l i n e , " The H i s t o r i c a l Journal, IV (1961), 32-7. "^Herwin Schaefer, The Roots of Modern Design (London, 1970). The f u n c t i o n a l t r a d i t i o n should not be confused with a r t i s t i c design t r a d i t i o n s ; they r a r e l y were the same. 4 The rules f o r hanging i n the Academy e x h i b i t i o n are found i n Hutchinson, Royal Academy, 54-5* and these were l i t t l e changed throughout the V i c t o r i a n period. Hutchinson, 58* states that needlework and wax-flowers were allowed i n other e x h i b i t i o n s of the eighteenth century, so the Academy's d e f i n i t i o n of f i n e a r t was rather more s t r i c t than was usual at the time. Henry Cole, F i f t y Years of Public Work (London, 1884); John Ruskin, The Complete Works of John Ruskin, eds., E. T. Cook and Alexander Wedderburn (London, 1903,)," XVI^XVIII, XXVII-XXX; William Morris, William Morris, The C o l l e c t e d Works of William Morris (London, 1918), XXI-XX; Lewis F. Day and Walter Crane, Moot Points: F r i e n d l y Disputes on Art and Industry (London, 1903). ^Eastlake, Household Taste, v i i i - i x ; E l i z a b e t h A s l i n , The Aesthetic Movement: Prelude to A r t Nouveau (London, 1969)* 13; Nikolaus Pevsner, Pioneers of Modern Design (New York, 1949)• 7 anon., "The Present State of A r c h i t e c t u r e , " The Quarterly Review, xcv (1854), 362. Q Pugin, True P r i n c i p l e s , 35* confesses that he s a c r i f i c e d f i t n e s s to purpose i n f u r n i t u r e design to a r t i s t i c p r i n c i p l e s . 9 Great B r i t a i n , Report from the Committee on A r t s, 1836, 11. 10 I b i d , 29. 11 McKendrick, "Wedgwood," 36, explains these problems as ones of temperament, but they were more probably due to the work expectations of a r t i s t s , which were very d i f f e r e n t from those of laborers. Hence i t was e a s i e r to make workers i n t o a r t i s t s than to make a r t i s t s i n t o designers. 1 2 Great B r i t a i n , Report from the Committee on Arts, 1936, 33. 13 Macdonald, Art Education, 60-185; Gordon Sutton, A r t i s a n or 202 A r t i s t ? A History of the Teaching of Art and Crafts i n E n g l i s h Schools (Oxford, 1967)> 45-106. ^ 4 Great B r i t a i n , Reports and Documents, 1850, 315. 1 5 Macdonald, 81, 132. 16 Great B r i t a i n , Reports and Documents, I85O, 337-8. 1 7 I b i d , 326. 18 Sutton, 63. A f t e r the transfer, construction began at the South Kensington s i t e i n 1857• 19 Stuart Durant, V i c t o r i a n Ornamental Design (London, 1972), 9-12. 20 Macdonald, 172; Great B r i t a i n , Reports and Documents, 1850, 333» 21 There were annual reports from the Schools of Design from 1843 on, but the major i n v e s t i g a t i o n of the Schools was made i n I85O, see Great B r i t a i n , Reports and Documents, 1950* 311—447• 22 Great B r i t a i n , Report from the Committee on A r t s , 1836, v i i , 16, 24. 2 3 I b i d , 31, 33. 2 4 Macdonald, 136-7. 25 I b i d , 243. Wornum's lectures were published, see Ralph N. Wornum, Analysis ,of Ornament: The C h a r a c t e r i s t i c s of Styles (London, 1882). 26 Great B r i t a i n , Reportsvand Documents, T85O, 331-2.'. : 27 anon., "The Manchester Exhibition,'" The Quarterly Review, CII (1857)* 165. 28 Great B r i t a i n , Report from the Committee on A r t s , 1836, 15* 33* 29 Great B r i t a i n , Reports and Documents, 1850, 331. 30 Ibid, 336; Great B r i t a i n , Report from the Committee on Arts, 19-20, 28. 3 1 A r t Journal, VI (1855), 4 0 ; Eastlake, 1 3 , 118, 258, 270. 32 M i l l i c e n t Rose, "Dwelling and Ornament i n the East End," The A r c h i t e c t u r a l Review, CIII (June, 1948), 244-6. See a l s o , Eastlake, 32. 203 3 3 E a s t l a k e , 91. 34 Richard Redgrave, "Supplementary Report on Design," Report by the J u r i e s f o r the Great E x h i b i t i o n (London, 1852); Ralph N. Wornum, "The E x h i b i t i o n as a Lesson i n T a s t e — A n Essay on Ornamental Art as Displayed i n the I n d u s t r i a l E x h i b i t i o n i n Hyde Park," The A r t Journal I l l u s t r a t e d Catalogue of the Great E x h i b i t i o n , London 1851 (London, 1851T» 35 The Reports and Documents submitted to the House of Commons i n I 8 5 O was a part of a reform campaign aimed at reorganizing the Schools. 3 ^ C i t e d i n Sutton, 166. 3 7 I b i d , 47.-6.7-; Macdonald, 73-112. 38 Owen Jones, The Grammar of Ornament (London, 1856). 3 9 I b i d , 5-8. ^ G r e a t B r i t a i n , Report from the Committee on A r t s, 1836, 17« 4 1 A r t Journal, VI (1855), 28. 4 2 E a s t l a k e , 55. 4 ^ C i t e d i n N i c o l e t t e Grey, "Prophets of the Modern Movement," The A r c h i t e c t u r a l Review, LXXXI (January, 1937)* 50. 4 4 E l i z a b e t h Gaskell, North and South (London, 1897), 156-7. 4 ^Lewis F. Day, Pattern Design (London, 1915)* 2; Ruskin, Works, 4 ^ A s l i n , 36-78̂ H. S. Goodhart-Rendel, "The V i c t o r i a n Home," V i c t o r i a n Architecture, ed., Peter Ferriday (Philadelphia, 1964)* 73-83. 47 John Summerson, "Pugin at Ramsgate," The A r c h i t e c t u r a l Review, CII ( A p r i l , 1948), 163-6. Gerald R e i t l i n g e r , The Economics of Taste. The Rise and F a l l of the Objets d'Art Market since 1750* II (New York, 1963)7 202-3. 49 H 7 F e r r i d a y , "Peacock Room," 4.11;v;'i;..-:.»;;:.•;:*:;.̂ u'c.z:. 7 °The Magazine of Art, I I I (1880), 270. 51 Part of Eastlake's book appeared as e a r l y as 1864* see Charles Eastlake, "The Fashion of Furniture," The C o r n h i l l Magazine, IX (1864)* 337-49. X, 197-9. http://47.-6.7- .204 a s t l a k e , H o u s e h o l d T a s t e * v i i i . 5 3 I b i d , 4-5* 5 4 A r t J o u r n a l * V I (1867)* 229. 5 5 ^ E a s t l a k e , H o u s e h o l d T a s t e * 91. 5 6 I b i d , 1 3 * 270. 57 L a d y B u r n e - J o n e s * M e m o r i a l s * I* 156-68; B a r r i n g t o n * L e i g h t o n * I , 276-277* I I » 1 0 4 - 8 , 110-2, 203-4. 58 W i l d e , W o r k s , I , 32-3* d e c l a r e d * " a p a i n t i n g [ h a s n o t ] a n y m o r e s p i r i t u a l m e s s a g e o r m e a n i n g f o r u s t h a n a b l u e t i l e f r o m t h e w a l l s o f D a m a s c u s o r a H i t z e n v a s e . " 5 9 O n e o f t h e p r o b l e m s g r o w i n g o u t o f t h i s w a s w h e t h e r o r n o t t h e a r t w o r k o f d e s i g n w a s v a l u e d s e p a r a t e l y f r o m t h e a c t u a l m a n u f a c t u r e o f t h e o b j e c t . I n 1836 d e s i g n a n d m a n u f a c t u r e w e r e n o t s e p a r a t e j o b s i n m a n y i n d u s t r i e s a n d t h e w o r k e r r e c e i v e d w a g e s w h i c h d i d n o t d i s t i n g u i s h b e t w e e n a r t w o r k a n d m e c h a n i c a l l a b o r , s e e G r e a t B r i t a i n , R e p o r t f r o m t h e C o m m i t t e e o n A r t s , 1836, 33. W h e n M o r r i s 1 f i r m b e g a n m a n u f a c t u r i n g s t a i n e d g l a s s i n t h e 1860's, t h e f i r m ' s a c c o u n t a n t a t t e m p t e d t o s e p a r a t e t h e c h a r g e s m a d e t o c l i e n t s f o r d e s i g n a n d m a n u f a c t u r e , a n d t o a s s e s s h i g h e r p r i c e s f o r d e s i g n s i n o r d e r t o p u t t h e f i r m ' s a r t i s t s o n a l e v e l a p p r o a c h i n g o t h e r a r t i s t s , s e e R a y m o n d W a t k i n s o n , W i l l i a m M o r r i s a s D e s i g n e r ( L o n d o n , 1967), 35. ^ G i l l i a n N a y l o r , T h e A r t s a n d C r a f t s M o v e m e n t - . - ; « A S t u d y o f . i t s > S o u r c e s , I d e a l s a n d I n f l u e n c e s o n D e s i g n T h e o r y ( L o n d o n , 1971)* 153. 61 R u s k i n , W o r k s , X , 197—8, 202; E a s t l a k e , H o u s e h o l d T a s t e , 105. 6 ? P a u l T h o m p s o n , T h e W o r k o f W i l l i a m M o r r i s ( L o n d o n , 1967), 89-90. ^ L e w i s F . D a y , P a t t e r n D e s i g n , 2 6 3 . 64 I b i d , 2 6 4 ; C h r i s t o p h e r D r e s s e r , P r i n c i p l e s o f D e c o r a t i v e D e s i g n ( L o n d o n , 1873). 6 5 ^ E a s t l a k e , H o u s e h o l d T a s t e , 66-7. ^ N a t i o n a l A s s o c i a t i o n f o r t h e A d v a n c e m e n t o f A r t a n d i t s A p p l i c a - t i o n t o I n d u s t r y , T r a n s a c t i o n s ( L i v e r p o o l , 1888), a n d T r a n s a c t i o n s ( E d i n - b u r g h , 1889). 67 L e w i s F . D a y , P a t t e r n D e s i g n , 2 6 3 - 4 • 205 6 8 A s l i n , 128-44. 69 Durant, V i c t o r i a n Ornamental Design, 75? A s l i n , 129* 7 0 " Naylor, A r t s and Crafts Movement, 115-6.5 McKendrick, "Wedgwood," 35-6; Michael Trappes-Lomax, Pugin: A Medieval V i c t o r i a n (London, 1933)* 31-2. 71 C i t e d i n Naylor, 181. 72 Lewis P. Day, Pattern Design, 262. 7 3 R u s k i n , Works, XXVII, Fors Clavigera (1 J u l y 1871), 181-2. Ruskin's statement was: Por, indeed, I am myself a Communist of the old s c h o o l — r e d d e s t a l s o of the red; and was on the very point of saying so at the end of my l a s t l e t t e r ; only the telegram about the Louvre's being on f i r e stopped me, because I-thought: the Communists o f i t h e new school, as I could not at a l l understand them, might not quite understand me. Por we Communists of the o l d school think that our property belongs to everybody, and everybody's property to us; so of course I thought the Louvre belonged to me as much as to the Parisians, and expected they would have sent word over to me, being an Art Professor, to ask whether I wanted i t burnt down. But no message or intimation to that e f f e c t ever reached me. 74 Lewis :P^Day,: PatternDesign, 2. 7 ^ A r t journal, XX (1881), 228. 7 6 I b i d , 232. 7 7 N a y l o r , 153, 170-1. 7 8 C i t e d i n Naylor, 9. 206 The e x i s t i n g h i s t o r i e s of the aesthetic movement have drawn t h e i r landscapes with large* bold, and always c o l o r f u l strokes. Cer- t a i n forms have been c l e a r l y delimited through t h e i r techniques and have entered the f i e l d of h i s t o r i c a l myth i n which a form i t s e l f i s s u f f i c i e n t to convey an e n t i r e complex of images. Unfortunately, too often t h i s complex of images has been created by the h i s t o r i a n rather than discovered by him. The sunflower and peacock, William Morris and h i s wallpapers, Walter Pater's dreamy Renaissance, Du Maurier's intense and drooping aesthetes, and Burne-Jones' languid canvases— these are some of the obvious expressions of the E n g l i s h a e s t h e t i c movement and they are a l l , more or l e s s , myths i n that t h e i r meaning and r e l a t i o n s h i p s to V i c t o r i a n culture are imposed on them i n order to explain events and a t t i t u d e s whose s i g n i f i c a n c e has already been decided upon. These r e l a t i o n s h i p s and meanings do not seem, a f t e r even preliminary research, genuine; they do not s a t i s f y . Most of the h i s t o r i e s of aestheticism have been content to explain V i c t o r i a n culture mythically because the h i s t o r i a n s , most of them a r t or l i t e r a r y c r i t i c s , have assumed from the outset that they understand the forms and r e l a t i o n s h i p s with which they are dealing. This i s quite obvious i n the h i s t o r y of V i c t o r i a n a r t where the only a r - t i s t s to win serious praise and consideration used to be those under the 1 influence of French a r t . And even more prevalent was the approval given to a r t t h e o r i s t s f o r t h e i r "progressive" approach to the problems of design and the disapproval heaped on p r a c t i s i n g designers f o r t h e i r "monstrous" creations and t h e i r i n a b i l i t y to develop a t r u l y modern 207 s t y l e * b y w h i c h t h e h i s t o r i a n g e n e r a l l y m e a n t m o d e r n i s m . T h e p a t e n t a b s u r d i t y o f t h i s a p p r o a c h r e v e a l s i t s e l f i n a n a r t i c l e b y N i c o l e t t e G r a y * p u b l i s h e d i n 1 9 3 7 « 3 I n t h e " P r o p h e t s o f t h e M o d e r n M o v e m e n t " s h e p o i n t e d o u t t h a t p r e c i s e l y t h e s a m e c r i t i c i s m s w e r e l e v e l e d a g a i n s t m i d - V i c t o r i a n d e s i g n b y R i c h a r d R e d g r a v e i n 1 8 5 1 a s b y N i k o l a u s P e v s n e r i n 1 9 3 6 . T h e i n t e r e s t i n g q u e s t i o n f o r h e r ( a n d t h e f a c t t h a t * a s f a r a s I c a n t e l l * s h e w a s t h e f i r s t t o d e a l w i t h i t s u g g e s t s t h e s t a t e o f t h e p r o b l e m ) w a s w h y h a d n o t R e d g r a v e * a l i v e t o t h e f a u l t s o f m i d - V i c t o r i a n d e s i g n * s u c c e e d e d i n e v o l v i n g a m o d e r n s t y l e ? A n d w h y h a d n o t R u s k i n a n d P u g i n * u n d o u b t e d l y m e n o f g e n i u s * s e e n a s o c l e a r l y a s R e d g r a v e t h e p r o b l e m s o f m o d e r n d e s i g n ? G r a y ' s a n s w e r t o t h e f i r s t q u e s t i o n w a s t h a t R e d g r a v e a n d o t h e r s o f h i s o p i n i o n l a c k e d g e n i u s . B u t o f c o u r s e t h a t m e r e l y m a k e s t h e s e c o n d q u e s t i o n m o r e i n s i s t e n t . W h y * w h e n m e d i o c r i t i e s w e r e s o p e r c e p t i v e * w a s g e n i u s s o b l i n d ? I f G r a y d e m o n s t r a t e s t h e a b s u r d i t y o f t h i s a p p r o a c h * s h e i s n o t a l o n e i n t h e b a s i c f a i l i n g . I n s o m e d e g r e e * e v e r y m a j o r h i s t o r y o f t h e a e s t h e t i c m o v e m e n t a n d m o s t o f t h e h i s t o r i e s o f V i c t o r i a n a r t s u f f e r f r o m t h e " i n t e r e s t e d n e s s " o f t h e i r a u t h o r s . B o t h t h e f i e l d s o f a r t a n d l i t e r a t u r e t e n d t o w a r d s t h e p o s i t i o n t h a t a e s t h e t i c q u a l i t i e s a r e a b s o l u t e o r e t e r n a l l y v a l i d . I t i s o n e o f o u r h e i r l o o m b e l i e f s f r o m t h e n i n e t e e n t h c e n t u r y . P r e o c c u p i e d w i t h t h e e s s e n t i a l a n d t h e l a s t i n g * a r t a n d l i t e r a r y h i s t o r i a n s o f t e n m a k e j u d g m e n t s w h i c h t h e h i s t o r i a n o f c u l t u r e c a n n o t a c c e p t . F o r e x a m p l e * i t i s a s e r i o u s d i s t o r t i o n r o f V i c t o r i a n h i s t o r y t o d i s m i s s L e i g h t o n a s a m e d i o c r e a r t i s t a n d t o p r a i s e a n d c a r e f u l l y c a t a l o g u e W h i s t l e r ' s e x p e r i m e n t s . S u c h a 208 judgment dismisses the aesthetic c r i t e r i a of the l a t e r V i c t o r i a n s , and more s e r i o u s l y s t i l l , i g n o r e s the i n t r i c a c i e s of the a r t world and i t s r e l a t i o n s h i p to the s o c i a l and economic worlds. The student of V i c t o r i a n h i s t o r y who knows why Rossetti exhumed h i s wife's body, but knows l i t t l e or nothing of the Royal Academy's c o n s t i t u t i o n or a c t i v i t i e s has a d i s t o r t e d view of V i c t o r i a n c u l t u r e . However dear they may be to us, we can no longer impose our a e s t h e t i c standards on past c u l t u r e s . Yet t h i s i s not the end of the d i f f i c u l t y , f o r the h i s t o r i a n finds i n the nineteenth century the same problems i n c u l t u r a l l i f e that he may see i n the c u l t u r a l l i f e of the twentieth century. More so than the p o l i t i c a l or s o c i a l h i s t o r i a n of the period, the c u l t u r a l h i s t o r i a n finds not merely suggestive s i m i l a r i t i e s but i n many cases a penetrating sameness of past and present problems. I t i s therefore understandable i f h i s t o r i a n s draw c e r t a i n parts of the landscape more c l e a r l y than other, even to the extent of r u i n i n g the perspec- t i v e . In t h i s manner, h i s t o r i a n s have done much to illuminate the V i c t o r i a n world and have f u l f i l l e d an important function i n t h e i r own time, as myth makers, i n d e l i m i t i n g the c u l t u r a l problems of modern men. Some of these myths, however, are no longer acceptable. In t h i s study, i n re-examining r e l a t i o n s h i p s and the context of a c t i - v i t i e s and events, I attempted to demonstrate why they are untenable; they simply do not adequately explain aestheticism. The most prevalent and seductive myth abouth the character of the a e s t h e t i c movement 209 i s that i t marked the f i n a l a l i e n a t i o n , i n both the comic and t r a g i c modes, of the a r t i s t from the bourgeoisie and t h e i r a t t i t u d e s and values. Although many a r t i s t s and c r i t i c s condemned middle-class ignorance and meaness, there was a v i t a l f i n a n c i a l and s p i r i t u a l bond between a r t i s t s and t h e i r bourgeois c l i e n t s . The two worlds fed on each other, a r t i s t s r e c e i v i n g money and t h e i r c l i e n t s r e c e i v i n g the only s a t i s f y i n g proof of human n o b i l i t y and d i g n i t y which they could buy. Except i n cases where arguments arose, there i s nothing to suggest that c o l l e c t o r s or a r t i s t s f e l t i t to be e i t h e r i n s u l t i n g or demeaning to buy a n d i s e l l these works at extravagantly dear p r i c e s . I f the character of the a e s t h e t i c movement could be understood i n terms of a l i e n a t i o n at a l l , which i s doubtful, i t would be the a l i e n a - t i o n of humanity from the machine, of culture from modernity, of the past from the present. Of a l l t h i s , the middle-classes with t h e i r u t i l i t a r i a n philosophy and m a t e r i a l i s t i c preoccupations became the symbol of P h i l i s t i a , as they were more vulnerable:- and moretamusing than the r e a l enemy symbolized by the machine. Attacking the machine and the mechanistic i n s t i t u t i o n s and r e l a t i o n s h i p s which sought to emulate the e f f i c i e n c y of the machine meant destroying what w e l l - being had been won from the past; " P h i l i s t i n e " values had so penetrated V i c t o r i a n culture and society that few were w i l l i n g to accept the dreadful consequences of the end of the machine age. The a r t i s t s of the 1870's almost a l l sided with the past against the present, but they c a r r i e d on t h e i r holy war i n such a way that they c a r e f u l l y avoided contact with the enemy. 210 The second myth i s that the movement embodied the idea of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake* a conception that confuses more than i t c l a r i f i e s . The phrase i n i t s e l f i s meaningless but i t was used by Whistler* Pater and Wilde to express i n various contexts the independence of a r t and the a r t i s t * and the r e j e c t i o n of a l l extraneous values and standards when dealing with a r t . Even t h i s d e f i n i t i o n obviously needs q u a l i f i c a t i o n * f o r a r t i s t i c i d e a l s and standards cannot be independent of experience and are therefore involved to some degree i n extraneous values. Given t h e i r understanding of the term* however* a program of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake was never s e r i o u s l y advocated by anyone i n the a r t world of the 1870's. The i d e a l i s t s c l e a r l y wished to reintegrate a r t i n t o the national l i f e and to reawaken a concern f o r a r t , as an expression of man's s p i r i t u a l nature* i n every sensible person. More importantly* t h e i r i d e a l was a society which had high aesthetic* s o c i a l and moral values which would c a l l f o r expression at the a r t i s t s ' hands. The designers of the period a l s o wished to reintegrate a r t and society although i n a d i f f e r e n t way. They were more concerned with the p a r t i c u l a r problems of a r t i n industry* i n awakening the a e s t h e t i c d i s c r i m i n a t i o n of both consumers and producers. Both of the major trends i n the a r t world of the 1870's then accepted a r t f o r a r t ' s sake only i n the sense that i t meant a r t was valuable and ought to be an important part of national l i f e and c u l t u r e . Whistler and Pater* the most outspoken advocates of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake i n the e a r l y years of the movement* believed that a r t had a v i t a l l i n k with experience and therefore* to them the slogan had a p a r t i c u l a r meaning. 211 Por Whistler i t meant the freedom of the a r t i s t from the interference of c r i t i c s and d i l l e t a n t e s , the establishment of the a r t i s t as a pro- f e s s i o n a l within h i s own system of e t h i c s . Por Pater i t meant that culture (by which he meant what Arnold meant, the best that men have said and done) was a personal possession which he valued f o r i t s l i b e r a t i n g and enhancing q u a l i t i e s , not as a guide f o r a c t i o n as Arnold had. Both Whistler and Pater were attempting to f i n d a s a t i s - f y i n g s o l u t i o n to the problem of the incongruity of a r t i n i t s s o c i a l and i n t e l l e c t u a l s e t t i n g s . They b e l i e v e d i n the supreme importance of the l i f e of the s p i r i t and were attempting to define i t s proper expression within a culture which had no objective method of measuring the value of s p i r i t u a l experience. The aesthete completely devoted to a r t as h i s only goddess and neglecting or deprecating every other aspect of l i f e was only a c a r i c a t u r e . The l a s t myth, and one of the e a r l i e s t as i t was put forward by both Wilde and Hamilton, i s that the a e s t h e t i c movement was a r e - b i r t h of a r t , or of the romanticism of E n g l i s h l i t e r a t u r e of the beginning of the nineteenth century. Wilde e s p e c i a l l y , i n h i s lecture on the movement given i n America i n 1882, took these as h i s themes. In a r t the idea that aestheticism was a r e b i r t h of the romantic i d e a l s of Keats and Shelley can be dismissed on the grounds that i t has no useful, i n t e l l i g i b l e meaning. C e r t a i n l y the a r t i s t i c s t y l e i n p a i n t i n g and design had no a f f i n i t y with the Romantic s t y l e i n p a i n t i n g exem- p l i f i e d by Haydon and John Martin, and none of the a r t i s t s of the 1870's looked to the e a r l y nineteenth century f o r i n s p i r a t i o n . The kinship 2 1 2 with the e a r l y romantics of which Wilde was sensible sprang from h i s perception that Keats had been scorned by society and had attempted to immortalize himself through the f a b r i c a t i o n of a r t . Wilde d i d not a r r i v e at aestheticism through Keats* but rather interpreted Keats through h i s aestheticism. I t i s equally obvious that the 1870's witnessed a r e b i r t h of a r t only i n the sense that the s t y l e of the 1870's was opposed to the work done i n the 1850's* and the a e s t h e t i c judgment that the l a t e r work was superior to the e a r l i e r has generally been confirmed by l a t e r commentators. Of course the a r t i s t s of the 1870's b e l i e v e d t h e i r work was true and mid-Victorian work was f a l s e and because of t h i s * the r e b i r t h of a r t i s a meaningful image. But there are a myriad such r e b i r t h s of a r t i n h i s t o r y (the mid-Victorian era had a l s o enjoyed one on i t s r e j e c t i o n of Regency design) and the term can have no precise meaning u n t i l the a c t i v i t i e s * r e l a t i o n s h i p s and ideas p e c u l i a r to the 1870's are grasped. Only then can the nature of the a r t i s t i c r e v i v a l be understood. And i n examining these* i t becomes c l e a r that many of the i n s t i t u t i o n s and r e l a t i o n s h i p s which contributed to t h i s r e v i v a l were i n f a c t developed during the e a r l y h a l f of V i c t o r i a ' s reign* e s p e c i a l l y i n the realm of the manu- factured a r t s where the Schools of Design, the independent designer and the idea that a r t enobled manufactures prepared the way f o r the domestic r e v i v a l . In t h i s study I have attempted to look beyond the obviousness of the evidence on the a e s t h e t i c movement i n order to view the con- text of change. I have focused e s p e c i a l l y on the changing^relationships 213 and meanings* rather than p e r s o n a l i t i e s and ideas* and have exposed a few of the most . v i s i b l e threads which weave through the a r t world. F i r s t of a l l * the a e s t h e t i c movement was a f i c t i o n i n that i t was created by people who wished to use i t as an i m a g e — e i t h e r to express c e r t a i n truths and to popularize ideas and a c t i v i t i e s * or to c r i t i c i z e ideas and a c t i v i t i e s as absurd. The a s s o c i a t i o n of people and ideas i n a movement was imposed by observers both sympathetic and c r i t i c a l . Although r e l a t i o n s h i p s between various people associated with the movement were often close and of c r i t i c a l importance ins the develop- ment of t h e i r ideas and attitudes* those r e l a t i o n s h i p s were e x t r a - neous to the formation of the movement. A r i s i n g out of sympathies unconnected with the supposed tenets of aestheticism* or even i n the case of the f r i e n d s h i p between Burne-Jones and Morris opposed to them* these r e l a t i o n s h i p s are only i n c o r r e c t l y understood within the con- f i n e s of the a e s t h e t i c movement. Much of the character of the a e s t h e t i c movement was* i n a manner of speaking* an accident* the r e s u l t of, a p e c u l i a r combination of interests, and b e l i e f s . I t appeared suddenly i n the late 1870's but had no exact beginning. Yet i t d i d appear new* even g l i t t e r i n g l y new* to contemporaries. This novelty existed more i n the combination than i n the p a r t i c u l a r ideas and i n t e r e s t s * most of which had been impor- tant f o r years. In many ways aestheticism was based on the culmina- t i o n of trends which stretched f a r back to the f i r s t years of the reign. The middle-class i n f a t u a t i o n with art* the r i s e of the i n - dependent designers* the i d e a l i s t s t y l e s i n painting* a r t i s t i c i n d i - 214 vidualism and i t s i d e n t i f i c a t i o n with freedom of the human s p i r i t , culture as a personal possession a l l were f e l t and accepted to a J. large degree by the a r t world long before 1875. What gave them t h e i r i n t e n s i t y i n the late 1870's was the accompanying reaction to t r a - d i t i o n s , the r e j e c t i o n of customary i d e a l s and s o l u t i o n s . In them- selves, each of these ideas was a c r i t i c i s m of some aspect of e x i s t i n g prejudices or conditions. Such c r i t i c i s m s were e n t i r e l y character- i s t i c of the i n t e l l e c t u a l climate of the 1850's and 1860's, but i n the 1870's t h i s c r i t i c i s m coalesced i n t o a r e j e c t i o n of an era, the mid-Victorian era. The thing c r i t i c i z e d was, of course, not an i n - t e l l e c t u a l concept but a f i c t i o n as w e l l . The a e s t h e t i c movement g r e a t l y contributed to the development of the idea of "Victorianism." The combination of t r a d i t i o n and novelty can also be described i n the way i n which the a e s t h e t i c movement appeared to overcome some of the long-standing problems which the a r t world faced. The problems had e x i s t e d since before the 1850's and the solutions which the aesthe- t i c movement offered appeared to be new. The independent genius was to resolve the bankruptcy of patronage i n the f i n e a r t s rather than the Royal Academy, and the i n s p i r a t i o n and i n t e g r i t y of the i n d i v i d u a l were judged more capable of upholding a r t than the contrived a c t i v i t i e s of a corporation of a r t i s t s . The degraded state of i n d u s t r i a l design was to be reformed by the free a r t i s t - d e s i g n e r who was approaching the s o c i a l and a r t i s t i c rank of the painters, by v i r t u e of the widespread a t t i t u d e s towards the value of h i s work. These, of course, were only seeming solutions and t e s t i f y both to the f a i t h put i n a r t as a r e - 2 1 5 generative force, and to the overwhelming desire to resolve the ten- sion which existed i n the a r t world between i t s i d e a l s and the l i m i t a - tions of i t s s o c i a l organization. The solutions had to be merely believable and novel, which they were, although t h e i r novelty sprang from t h e i r implied r e j e c t i o n of t r a d i t i o n a l solutions ( i . e . , the Royal Academy and the Schools of Design). This seeming novelty was a part of the a e s t h e t i c f i c t i o n and l i k e the rest of i t , had a substantial r e a l i t y . F i r s t , the a e s t h e t i c s o l u t i o n proposed a r e i n t e r p r e t a t i o n of a r t and i t s role i n modern society, often under the heading of a r t f o r a r t ' s sake. A r t i s t i c values, given free r e i n i n the confined arenas of domestic l i f e and " a t e l i e r s " , expanded to f i l l and c o l o r these areas with the appealing sentiment that human l i f e could be b e a u t i f u l and noble, and that a r t made i t so. In the midst of these v i t a l discoveries, i t seemed as i f e a r l i e r decades had neglected a r t and had abused humanity i n doing so. Of course e a r l i e r generations had loved a r t as well, but because r e l a t i o n s h i p s had changed, a r t was more deeply s a t i s f y i n g to more people i n the 1870's than before because i t was more tangible. One of the s i g n i f i c a n t changes i n a t t i t u d e i n t h i s respect was the tendency to view a r t and the appreciation of a r t as a personal possession, and culture as a personal refinement. Unfortunately a r t as a personal possession implied a r t works as personal possessions and became some- thing which could be bought, something which i t was d i f f i c u l t to har- monize with the democratic hopes f o r a r t of those who cared f o r a r t and democracy. Education was absolutely necessary f o r achieving 216 culture and even i f education could be made more democratic* education alone could not sustain personal c u l t u r e . A c e r t a i n environment had to be maintained. Yet t h i s dilemna only became v i s i b l e years l a t e r when aestheticism* stripped of i t s economic foundations and with many of i t s contradictions a l l too evident* retreated from the problems which democratic a r t posed. In a curious dream* the a r t i s t . Charles Ricketts* described the fate of a man the aesthetic movement could not redeem. He was a "common-place man," shy with women but a t t r a c t e d to talented men* who wished eagerly to accomplish something. A coarse and ignorant woman trapped him i n t o marriage and i n t h i s d u l l and loveless a l l i a n c e * h i s hopes and a s p i r a t i o n s rottedlaway. His wife stopped any trend towards culture on h i s part by an " i n s t i n c t i v e h o s t i l i t y " and i n the end* the man spent a l l h i s v i t a l energy on the preservation of a vestige of peace and the shreds of h i s s e l f - r e s p e c t . In h i s journal f o r 1900* Ricketts recorded h i s reactions to h i s dream and i t s p o s s i b i l i t i e s as a p l o t f o r a novel. A l l t h i s seemed h o r r i b l e to me* and I wondered i f i t would be of i n t e r e s t to anyone. Yet the man seemed to me t e r r i b l y p i t i f u l * and I f e l t that i n h i s degradation some dim consciousness would be h i s of the f e a r f u l odds against common people* the tragedy of common l i v e s * and the absence of human intercourse among common people. Small glimmerings of f i n e r things would shine within him l i k e stars r e f l e c t e d i n the mud of a r i v e r . The a e s t h e t i c movement i n the l a t e 1870 1s*developed as an uneasy truce between a r t and commerce* was allowed by the separation of a r t i s t i c and commercial values i n t o two c l e a r l y defined areas. This allowed the humanism which had always been an important part of the V i c t o r i a n a r t t r a d i t i o n to f l o u r i s h l i k e a hot-house plant and to become the 217 s p i r i t u a l solace f o r the i n j u r i e s which the materialism and the mechanism of modern society i n f l i c t e d . This a r t i s t i c humanism was based on h i s t o r i c a l i d e a l s of l i f e expressed by the i d e a l i s t painters and by many designers i n t h e i r s t y l e s and i n t h e i r methods of pro- duction. Above everything else the new a r t consciousness cherished a r t as a fundamental expression of human excellence, an idea which implied moral s u p e r i o r i t y as well as a e s t h e t i c . As t h i s humanism was e s s e n t i a l l y an h i s t o r i c a l i d e a l and sentimental (because i t op- posed the m a t e r i a l i s t i c conditions of modern society yet could not r e a l i s t i c a l l y attack them), the a e s t h e t i c movement could not form a program or even a systematic organization of ideas. As the condi- tions which gave i t l i f e faded, aestheticism grew more and more tenuous and more dream-like. I t could not hope to restore the c u l t u r a l grandeur which the V i c t o r i a n s perceived i n the s o c i e t i e s which e x i s t e d i n the West before the eighteenth century. Nor d i d i t r e a l l y make the attempt. I t was enough at the time to c u l t i v a t e the sense of that past glory, to recreate some aspect of the former beauty and d i g n i t y of human existence. Of course, any r e a l r e s t o r a t i o n was im- possible and was even made absurd by the f i d e l i t y to s p e c i f i c h i s t o r i c a l d e t a i l s which h i s t o r i c i s m fostered and which was evident i n Alma- Tadema's minutely-plotted v i s i o n s of ancient Greece and Rome. I t was, i n the very best sense, play-acting of a sober but d e l i g h t f u l kind. I t would be misleading to think of i t as escapism f o r even i n i t s most e s o t e r i c forms, aestheticism had a serious, one i s tempted to say an earnest, purpose—the preservation of c e r t a i n values, and 218 the c u l t i v a t i o n of a humanism, both of which were moribund i n the mechanistic society of the 1870's. In t h i s c u l t u r a l play-acting, the a e s t h e t i c movement was only the most t h e a t r i c a l part. I d e a l i s t painting, the domestic r e v i v a l i n a r c h i t e c t u r e , impressionism, the a r t s and c r a f t s movement, the personal r e l a t i v i s m of Pater a l l contributed to a wider emergence of humanism i n the a r t s . These more general, .more^respectable and more acceptable changes formed the raw material of the a e s t h e t i c movement f i c t i o n , as l i f e among the V i c t o r i a n upper classes formed the raw material f o r Trollope's f i c t i o n . Aestheticism and the wide- spread changes i n the perception of a r t and i t s value d i d tend i n the same d i r e c t i o n and suffered from the same weaknesses and contra- d i c t i o n s . Both b e l i e v e d i n a hopeless r e s t o r a t i o n — t h e r e c r e a t i o n of the forms of c u l t u r a l grandeur while renouncing the s p i r i t u a l and material organization of older s o c i e t i e s . Only a few, the c h i e f among them William Morris, r e a l i z e d that the a r t of the earth, man's true expression of worthwhile labor, could only be restored by destroying 5 the material organization of society. Yet h i s l o g i c a l consistency was only what the E a r l of Derby c a l l e d f o o l i s h , f o r to give up the e f f i c i e n c y of the i n d u s t r i a l organization, which was absolutely neces- sary to Morris' i d e a l , meant widespread s u f f e r i n g f o r a l l c l a s s e s . On the other hand, renouncing a r t , which embodied the p r e - i n d u s t r i a l values of freedom, beauty, f a i t h and d i g n i t y , meant l o s i n g the precious sense of man's worth to himself as a man apart from the machine. The paradox then was the only reasonable answer, the only promising 219 view of a r t and society at the time. The b r i l l i a n c e of the 1870's and 1880's lay i n the trembling r e a l i z a t i o n that i t worked. Of course* i t could not work f o r long as i t rested on such uncertain foundations* and once put asunder* the opposing values of a r t and commerce were not e a s i l y reconciled. This opposition p a r t l y explained the curious and f i t f u l languor of l a t e x V i c t o r i a n i c u l t u r e which was i n e f f e c t divided against i t s e l f . The a r t c r i t i c s of the 1870's were the f i r s t to perceive that an aes- t h e t i c fraud had been perpetrated by mid-Victorian a r t i s t s and t h i s perception quickened the r e j e c t i o n of mid-Victorian values by adding moral indignation to the t r a d i t i o n a l c r i t i c i s m s of mid-Victorian ideas and s t y l e s . Yet the a e s t h e t i c movement was i n i t s e l f a fraud* a f i c t i o n containing g l a r i n g contradictions. Once exposed* as i t was to Ricketts i n h i s dream* to Morris at the height of the move- ment and to Wilde i n Reading Gaol* i t became yet more evidence of the bankruptcy of Victorianism. Thus the optimism of the 1870's* so b r i l l i a n t and so various* turned to b i t t e r n e s s and hopelessness by the century's end. 220 FOOTNOTES Any l i b r a r y catalogue w i l l reveal the f r u s t r a t i n g condition of secondary material i n t h i s respect. The books on Whistler and the Pre- Raphaelite painters f a r outnumber those on Leighton* Poynter* B r i t o n R i - viere* or any number of other a r t i s t s who d i d not challenge the Academic t r a d i t i o n s of s t y l e and professional p o s i t i o n . The works that are a v a i - l a b l e on the l a t t e r are outdated f o r the most part and many were never meant as s c h o l a r l y studies of e i t h e r a r t or h i s t o r y . 2 Pevsner* Pioneers of Modern Design. "^Nicolette Grey* "Prophets of the Modern Movement*" The A r c h i t e c t u r a l Review* LXXXI (January, 1937)* 49-50. ^Charles Ricketts* S e l f - P o r t r a i t * Taken From the Letters and Journals of Charles Ricketts* R.A.* ed. C e c i l Lewis (London* 1939)* 33. 5 Even before h i s conversion to Marxist revolutionary doctrine* Morris was led* perhaps by h i s Icelandic studies* to believe that the world required a dreadful devastation before a r t could be reborn. See William Morris* The L e t t e r s of William Morris to h i s Family and Friends* ed.* P h i l l i p Henderson (London* 1950), 62, 64*.113. 2-2-1- GOVERNMENT DOCUMENTS Great B r i t a i n . Report from the Select Committee on A r t s and t h e i r Connexion with Manufactures; With Minutes of the Evidence, Appendix and Index. H.C. 1836 (568), V o l . IX, 1-409. Great B r i t a i n . Reports and Documents, E x h i b i t i n g the State and Progress of the Head and Branch Schools of Design. H.C. 1850 (731)> V o l . XLII, 311-447. PERIODICALS The A r t Journal (1850-1881) The Fine A r t s Quarterly Review (1863-1881) The Magazine of Art (1878-1881) The P o r t f o l i o (1870-1881) PUBLISHED MEMOIRS, CORRESPONDENCE AND CONTEMPORARY BIOGRAPHIES Arnold, Matthew. Letters 1848-1888, ed. G. W. E. R u s s e l l . New York: Macmillan and Company, 1895> 2 v o l s . Baldry, Albert Lys. Albert Moore. London: George B e l l and Sons, 1894. . Hubert von Herkomer, R.A. A Study and a Biography. London: George B e l l and Sons, 1904* . Three Great Modern Painters. Leighton, Whistler, Burne-Jones. London: T. C. and E. C. Jack, 1908. Barrington, Mrs. R u s s e l l . The L i f e , L e t t e r s and Work of F r e d e r i c Leighton. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1906, 2 v o l s . Bax, Ernest B e l f o r t . Reminiscences and R e f l e c t i o n s of a Mid and Late V i c t o r i a n . New York: Seltzer, 1920. B a y l i s s , S i r Wyke. Five Great Painters of the V i c t o r i a n E r a . London: Sampson Low, Marston and Company, 1902. . O l i v e s . The Reminiscences of a President. London: George A l l e n , 19O6. 222 Benson,. A.. C. Walter Pater. London: The Macmillan Company, 1906. Benson, E. P. As We Were. London: Longmans, Green and Company, 1931. Brown, Horatio. John Addington Symonds. A Biography. London: Smith, E l d e r and Company, 1903* Burne-Jones, Georgiana, Lady. Memorials of Edward Burne-Jones. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1906. Carr, J . Comyns. Some Eminent V i c t o r i a n s . Personal Recollections i n the World of Art and L e t t e r s . London: Duckworth and Company, 1908. Cobden-Sanderson, Thomas James. The Journals of Thomas James Cobden- Sanderson 1879-1922. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1926. Cole, Henry. F i f t y Years of Public L i f e . London: George B e l l and Sons, 1884, 2 v o l s . Collingwood, William Gershom. The L i f e of John Ruskin. London: Methuen and Company, 1905* Crane, Walter. An A r t i s t ' s Reminiscences. New York: The Macmillan Company, 1905. Du Maurier, George. The Young Du Maurier; A S e l e c t i o n of Letters , 1860-1922, ed. Daphne Du Maurier. Garden C i t y , N. Y.: Doubleday and Company, 1952. . T r i l b y . London: Harper and Brothers, 1927* Duret, Theodore. H i s t o i r e de James McNeill Whistler et de son oeuvre. P a r i s : H. Floury, 1904. Eddy, Arthur Jerome. Recollections and Impressions of James A. McNeill Whistler. P h i l a d e l p h i a : J . B. Lippincott, 1903. F r i t h , William Powell. My_ Autobiography and Reminiscences. London: Richard Bentley and Son, 1889. Grenvilie-Murray, E.>C. Side-Lights on E n g l i s h Society. D e t r o i t : The Singing Tree Press, 1969. Hake, Thomas and Compton-Rickett, Arthur. The L i f e and L e t t e r s of Theodore Watts-Dunton. London: T. C. and.E. C. Jack, 1916, 2 v o l s . Hamerton, P h i l i p G i l b e r t . Aut ob i ography. Boston: Roberts Brothers, 1897. 223 Haydon, Benjamin Robert. The Autobiography and Memoirs of Benjamin Robert Haydon 1786-1846, ed. Tom Taylor. New York: Harcourt Brace and Company, 1962, 2 v o l s . ' . The Diary of Benjamin Robert Haydon. Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard U n i v e r s i t y Press, 1960, 4 vols.. Herkomer, S i r Hubert von. The Herkomers. London: Macmillan and Company, 1910-1911, 2 v o l s . ' Holliday, Henry. Reminiscences of My L i f e . London: Heinemann, 1914* Horsley, John C a l c o t t . Recollections of a Royal Academician. London: John Murray, 1903. Hueffer, Ford Madox. Ford Madox Brown: A Record of His L i f e and Work. London: Longmans, Green and Company, 1896. Hunt, William Holman. Pre-Raphaelitism and the Pre-Raphaelite Brother- hood. New York: The Macmillan Compaiiy, 1905-1906, 2 v o l s . K e l l e t t , E. E. A_£ X Remember. London: V. Gollancz, 1936. Keppel, Frederick. The Golden Age of Engraaving. A S p e c i a l i s t ' s Story About Fine P r i n t s . New York: The Baker and Taylor Company, 1910. Lazarus, Emma. "A Day i n Surrey with William Morris." The Century Magazine, XXXII (July, 1886), 388-397. L e s l i e , Charles Robert. Autobiographical Recollections, ed. Tom Taylor. Boston: Ticknor and F i e l d s , i860. L e s l i e , George D. The Inner L i f e of the Royal Academy. London: John Murray, 1914. Lucas, E. V. The Colvins and Their Friends. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1928. Mackail, J . W. The L i f e of William Morris. London: Longmans, Green and Company, 1899> 2 v o l s . Mallock, William H u r r e l l . Memoirs of L i f e and L i t e r a t u r e . New York; Harper and Brothers, 1920. M i l l a i s , John G u i l l e . The L i f e and Letters of S i r John Everett M i l l a i s . London:,Methuen and Company, 1900. M i l l s , Ernestine. The L i f e and L e t t e r s of F r e d e r i c Shields. London: Longmans, Green and Company, 1912. 224 ...Palgrave, Gwenllian P. Francis Turner Palgrave. London: Longmans, Green and Company, 1.899 • Pattison, Mark. Memoirs. London: Macmillan and Company, 1885. Q u i l t e r , Harry. "James Abbott McNeill Whistler, A Memory and a C r i - t i c i s m . " Chambers Journal, VI (1903), 691-696. Preferences i n Art, L i f e and L i t e r a t u r e . London: Swan Sonnenschein, 1892. Redgrave, F. M. Richard Redgrave, A Memoir. London; C a s s e l l , 1891. Rhys, Ernest. Frederic, Lord Leighton. London: George B e l l and Sons, 1900. . Wales England Wed. London: J . M. Dent and Sons, 1940. Ricketts, Charles S. Oscar Wilde, R e c o l l e c t i o n s . F o l c r o f t , Pa.: F o l c r o f t Press, 1969. . S e l f - P o r t r a i t , Taken from the Letters and Journals of Charles Ricketts, R.A., ed. C e c i l Lewis. London: P. Davis, 1939. Robertson, W. Graham. Time Was. London: Hamish Hamilton, 1931• Rossetti, Dante G a b r i e l . Dante Gabriel R o s s e t t i : His Family Letters, With a Memoir, ed. W. M. R o s s e t t i . London: E l l i s and Elvey, 1899* Rossetti, William Michael. Rossetti Papers, 1862-1870. London: Sands, 1903. . . Ruskin: R o s s e t t i : Pre-Raphaelism. Papers, 1854-1862. London: George A l l e n , 1899. . Some Reminiscences of William Michael R o s s e t t i . London: Brown Langham, 1906, 2 v o l s . Rothenstein, William. Men and Memories. New York: Coward-McCann,' 1931. Scott, William B e l l . Aut ob i ographi ca1 Notes of the L i f e of William B e l l Scott and Notices of His A r t i s t i c and Poetic C i r c l e of Friends, ed. William Minto. 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Stein, Richard L. "Dante Gabriel R o s s e t t i : .Painting and the Problems of Poetic Form." Studies i n E n g l i s h L i t e r a t u r e , X (Autumn, 1970), 775-792. Summerson, John. "Pugin at Ramsgate." The A r c h i t e c t u r a l Review, CIII ( A p r i l , 1948), 163-166. T i l l o t s o n , Geoffrey. "Pater, Mr. Rose, and the 'Conclusion' of the Renaissance." Essays and Studies by Members of the E n g l i s h Association, XXXII (1946), 44-60. Unrau, John. "Ruskin's Use of the Adjective Moral." E n g l i s h Studies, LII (1971)* 339-347. V i c t o r i a n Society. "A Special Report on the High V i c t o r i a n C u l t u r a l Achievement." V i c t o r i a n Studies, VIII (1965), 213-228. Watson, F r a n c i s . "The D e v i l and Mr. Ruskin." Encounter, XXXVIII (June, 1972), 64-70. 3. "Works of Reference Bryan, Michael. Dictionary of Painters and Engravers, Biographical and C r i t i c a l . London: George B e l l and Sons, 1886. Graves, Algernon. The Royal Academy of A r t s . A Complete Dictionary of Contributors and Their Work from i t s Foundation i n 1769 to 1904. London: H. Graves, 1905-1906, 8 v o l s . 4. E x h i b i t i o n Catalogues, Arranged by Subject The Aesthetic Movement. Camden A r t s Centre E x h i b i t i o n : London, 1973* Ford Madox Brown. Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n given by the Walker Art G a l l e r y ; Liverpool, 1964. S i r Edward Coley Burne-Jones. Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n given at Fulham L i b r a r y : London, 1967* Richard Dadd. Camden A r t s Centre E x h i b i t i o n : London, 1974* 241 Christopher Dresser. The Pine Art Society: London, 1 9 7 2 . Dyce Centenary E x h i b i t i o n . Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n of William Dyce's works at Messrs. Agnew: London, 1964- An E x h i b i t i o n of Paintings by_ William Powell F r i t h , R.A., 1819-1909. Catalogue of a Whitechapel Art G a l l e r y and Harrogate Arts Society E x h i b i t i o n : London, 1951 • William Holman Hunt. Walker Art G a l l e r y E x h i b i t i o n : Liverpool, 1969. Paintings and Drawings by S i r Edwin Landseer. Catalogue of a Royal Academy E x h i b i t i o n : London, 1961. Daniel Maclise 1 8 0 6 - 1 8 7 0 . A r t s Council of Great B r i t a i n E x h i b i t i o n : London, 1972. The Works of S i r John Everett M i l l a i s . Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n at the Grovsner G a l l e r i e s : London, 1 8 8 6 . Painters^ of. the ̂ Beautif u l ; i Catalogue of-an .,-Exhibition.jat .^Messrs. 1 Dujlacher Brothers: New York, 1964. Paintings and Drawings by V i c t o r i a n A r t i s t s i n England. Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n at the National G a l l e r y : Ottawa, 1965. Paintings and Drawings of the Pre-Raphaelites and t h e i r C i r c l e . Cata- logue of an E x h i b i t i o n at the Fogg Museum, Harvard: Harvard, 1946. John P h i l l i p , R.A. Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n given by the Aberdeen Art G a l l e r y : Aberdeen, 1967. Dante Gabriel Rossetti, Painter and Poet. Catalogue of a Royal Academy E x h i b i t i o n : London, 1973. The F i r s t Hundred Years of the Royal Academy, 1 7 6 9 - 1 8 6 8 . Catalogue of a Royal Academy E x h i b i t i o n : London, 1951* Royal Academy Diploma Pictures, 1768-1851. Catalogue of an A r t s Council E x h i b i t i o n : London, 196I. Ruskin and His C i r c l e . Catalogue of an A r t s Council E x h i b i t i o n : London, 1964. Ten Decades of B r i t i s h Taste. Catalogue of an A r t s Council E x h i b i t i o n : London, 1951. 242 James T i s s o t . Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n given at the Museum of A r t , Rhode Island School of Design, Providence, and the Art G a l l e r y of Ontario,; Toronto: Toronto, 1968. V i c t o r i a n and Edwardian Decorative A r t s . Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n at the V i c t o r i a and Albert Museum: London, 1952. V i c t o r i a n and Edwardian Decorative A r t s : The Handley-Read C o l l e c t i o n . Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n at the Royal Academy: London, 1972. V i c t o r i a n Painting. Catalogue of an E x h i b i t i o n at Nottingham Univer- s i t y G a l l e r y : Nottingham, 1959• V i c t o r i a n Paintings. Catalogue of an A r t s Council Exhibition:,London, 1962. 
work_rj3wxhaa3nclzd6fqixoutjweq	----	Book Reviews tions of medical plants (124.1-6). It would have been clearer if these illustrative references had been separated from the testimonia proper and collected under the translation on the facing page. In the apparatus criticus the testimonia receive inconsistent and at times misleading treatment. Often an emendation is recorded as made "after Aetius and [Galen]"; yet without their actual words, it is impossible to tell where they offer a direct quota- tion or a paraphrase reintegrated by the editor. Elsewhere the evidence of later cita- tions is omitted (e.g. 112.1; 122.5, where the reading of Aetius and [Galen] is pre- ferable to that adopted in the text and, at worst, provided the inspiration for Sideras' emendation). Daremberg's transposition of the title to "kidneys and bladder" may be further supported by the fact that the Arabs referred to it similarly and not, as the Greek Mss. have it, to "bladder and kidneys", yet of this the apparatus gives not a word and the introduction, p. 69f., is misleading. As a result, this edition, which is likely to remain standard for at least as long as Daremberg's, is less comprehensive than it at first appears, and can only be properly used with other texts open at hand and with Sideras' 1971 Mainz Abhandlung available as a constant defence of emenda- tions and disputed readings. [FIRMICUS MATERNUS], Ancient astrology, theory and practice. The Mathesis of Firmicus Maternus, translated by Jean Rhys Bram, Park Ridge, N.J., Noyes Press, 1975, pp. xi, 336, illus., $10.00. The hopes and fears of the average man in classical antiquity are better studied from the predictions of an astrologer than from the chronicles of a historian. "What career shall I choose?" "Shall I recover from my illness?" "Whom should I marry?" The answers to such questions were found in the stars, not the archives. Even Galen believed in the influence of astral periodicities, if suitably rationalized (1.54; IX.911 K.; CMG V.10.2.2.244, 485) and Firmicus Maternus' handbook, written C. A.D. 334, contains plenty of advice for the star-dominated invalid: Mars in Scorpio, Capricorn, Pisces or Cancer, if in opposition to the Moon, brings on impetigo, leprosy and jaundice (7.20.10). Professor Bram has performed a useful service by making this fascinating work available in English, although the translation is not always fluent. 'Malefic' and 'benefic' are ugly and unnecessary alternatives to 'male-' and 'beneficent'; 'regularly elected consuls' (3.3.10; 5.2; 13.9) requires more elucidation than the note on p. 304; and campi doctores (8.28.1) should be translated 'drill instructors', not 'army doctors'. Emperors might try to ban astrology, and philosophers despise it: Firmicus' clients, whether high-born consuls or sweaty sewer-cleaners, knew better. Readers of Medical History should therefore be warned that (8.25.10) those who have the ascendant in the 30th degree of Libra will be verbose liars, inflated with fluent speech; or, if benefient planets are conjoined, great physicians who travel much and die a violent death. EBERHARD HERMES (translator and editor), The 'Disciplina clericalis' of Petrus Alfonsi, London, Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1977, 8vo, pp. x, 203, £5.95. In 1106 a Jewish physician and theologian from Huesca in Aragon embraced the 208 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300032361 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300032361 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Reviews Christian faith and took the name of Petrus Alfonsi. His Disciplina clericalis was widely known throughout medieval Europe in Latin and in translations, and consists of proverbs, poetry, fables, anecdotes, and tales of men's fates. A translation by Eberhard Hermes into German appeared in 1970 and Mr. P. R. Quarrie has now prepared an English version ofthe original Latin text, with reference to Hermes' work. He has also translated Hermes' lengthy introduction (pp. 3-99), which describes 'The author and his times', and also the position of Jews in medieval Spanish society. Of interest to historians of medicine and science is the part dealing with medieval attitudes to scientific investigations, and there are also a number of references in the text to medicine, which supplement our limited knowledge of it in this period. In view of this and of its wide influence Dr. Quarrie's excellent and scholarly translation should be carefully studied by all those concerned with medieval medicine and science. ARTEMIDORUS, The interpretation of dreams. Oneirocritica, with translation and commentary by Robert J. White, Park Ridge, N. J., Noyes Press, 1975, 8vo, pp. ix, 259, $15.00. Written in the second century A.D. by a professional dream-interpreter, this book appears here in English for the first time. There is a lengthy introduction to the five constituent books, each with lengthy commentaries. Literally hundreds of dreams are related and interpreted, and no doubt the psycho- analyst will find all these data of overwhelming interest. Its value to the less romantic is not so obvious, and the statement on the dustjacket that interest in dreams and their meaning "is one of the hallmarks of the intellectual life of this century" can hardly be taken seriously. However, as far as classical studies are concerned, it is important to have an accurate and scholarly translation of a well-known author's writings on a theme of interest and concern to the Ancient World. Thus, the great significance of the dream in the Classical and pre-Classical era makes this a note- worthy contribution, and it opens up a new area for the non-Greek reader. On these grounds it can be warmly recommended. PETER SHARRATT (editor), French Renaissance studies, 1540-70. Humanism and the encyclopedia, Edinburgh University Press, 1976, 8vo, pp. ix, 976, £8.00. In this collection there are fourteen essays, three in French, on highly specialized topics, all presented at a conference in Edinburgh in 1974. Each is a scholarly produc- tion and together they illustrate a variety of approaches and attitudes to the central theme of the meeting, which was French Renaissance education, 1540 to 1570. Historians of medicine and science will be particularly interested in the papers by M. A. Screech on 'Medicine and literature: aspects of Rabelais and Montaigne (with a glance at the law)' and by W. P. D. Wightman on 'Cosmological and technological trends in the French Renaissance'. Others on meteorology and French poetry, the scientific poetry of Guy Lef6vre de la Boderie, and on the teaching of mathematics in France, 1540 to 1570, will also be found useful, as will be the remainder, to those studying Renaissance medicine or science. These are concerned mainly with the liberal arts, but also with the encyclopedia, ethics, and law. 209 https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300032361 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:13, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300032361 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_rpvkjw662rcnlfdcsiywgprkey	----	88 Nika Dolenc*, Renata Grbac Žiković**, Rade Knežević*** Received: December 2011 | Accepted: April 2012 Abstract The modern pace of life imposes new needs and demands of the tourist market as well as the need for rest and recreation in areas of preserved nature. Maksimir Park dates from the 19th century, and since 1964, it has been protected as a monument of park architecture. Today, the park is the space for recrea- tion and relaxation with cultural monuments and natural heritage. They make a strong and attractive potential factor that has been underused in the tourist offer of the City of Zagreb. The paper examines the attractiveness of the park for visitors, whilst also making the comparison with some of the parks of London (Hyde Park, Regent’s Park, Kew Gardens). The main goal of this paper is to analyze the exist- ing resources of the park and to identify their weaknesses in order to complement and enhance the offer of the park as a tourist attraction. The methodology is based on the analysis of material of the origin and the development of Maksimir Park, the evaluation survey conducted in 2009 and 2010 in the park area (case study) and SWOT analysis of the significant resource for tourism development of the park. The results show that Maksimir Park contains many resources, but they are not recognized as a tour- ist attraction of Zagreb. Tourist services in the park are not harmonized with visitors’ needs and should be complemented with traditional and cultural events, better cuisine, education about resources of the park and improved range of activities throughout the year. Key words: Maksimir Park, development, natural and cultural heritage, tourist offer. TURIZAM Volume 16, Issue 3 88-101 (2012) Analysis of the Touristic Valorization of Maksimir Park in Zagreb (Croatia) * Public Institution Maksimir, Maksimirski perivoj bb, 10 000 Zagreb, Croatia; info@park-maksimir.hr; nika.dolenc@gmail.com ** Faculty of Tourism and Hospitality Management Opatija, University of Rijeka, Ika 42, 51410 Opatija, Croatia; renatag@fthm.hr *** Faculty of Tourism and Hospitality Management Opatija, University of Rijeka, Ika 42, 51410 Opatija, Croatia; radek@fthm.hr TURIZAM | Volume 16, Issue 3, 88-101 (2012) 89 Nika Dolenc, Renata Grbac Žiković, Rade Knežević Introduction Parks are included in the physiognomic structure of a city as a part of the area, and can, as such become a part of the city’s recognizable identity. In this way, Kew Gardens or Hyde Park present a part of London’s identity, Bois de Boulogne or Bois de Vincennes have the same meaning for Paris, Central Park for New York, Rings for Vienna, and Maksimir and Zelena potkova for Zagreb (Bojanić and Šćitaroci, 1996). Nowadays green areas inside city areas mostly consist of city parks, sometimes referred to as gardens or city greenery. Parks (lat. parricus; bounded area) are parts of a city or set- tlement that contain methodically installed and maintained vegetation and other functional and compositionally-formed facilities (Knežević and Dolenc, 2011). Parks and gardens are an important part of green surfaces, and as such present a reflec- tion of the culture of a certain time and the man’s relation towards nature. Different tradi- tions and influences of cultures of different nations have changed during the course of histo- ry, influencing the way that park surfaces are arranged. As oldest parks we point out those dating from antique times, such as the parks of Persian kings that functioned as hunting grounds, the Eastern and Chinese Garden and the Hang- ing Gardens of Semiramis. While the Persian garden lasted until the 7-8th century, it took on a new meaning with the spread of Islam. Islam adopted the garden form, but it imbued it with meaning and symbolism. Persian culture was absorbed by Islam and continued without apparent interruption. To the one it remained the paradise of the Koran; ‘For them [the good] the Gardens of Eden, under whose shade shall rivers flow’; to the other a place for contempla- tion and conversation, where the body and spirit were in repose and the mind liberated from preconceptions. (http://project.eghn.org/downloads/EGHN_Story%20of%20gardens). Their significance comes from the fact that their role was to bring people closer to nature by creat- ing a sensation of pleasure and harmony (Knežević and Dolenc, 2011). The beginnings of park architecture, as one of the most important branches of public green surfaces arrangement, are linked to ancient Romans in western culture, when they appeared as public gardens. In the Middle Ages1 these are regular geometrical gardens that contain both orchards and alleys, as well as bathing pools, and can be found in France and Italy. Further park development tenden- cy stretches through renaissance2 (gardens have regular shapes and smaller dimensions, Bel- vedere gardens in Vatican, renaissance gardens in Dubrovnik, gardens of the Villa Medici in Castellu near Florence can be set as examples), the baroque3 (examples being regular French gardens such as the park next to Versailles, and English natural gardens based on bringing nature closer to people, that do not use strict geometrical forms and symmetries, but apply organic forms such as in Hyde Park in London, park Ribnjak in Zagreb), classicism and his- toricism through the 19th century (Zelena potkova in Zagreb). Only in the second half of the 19th century garden architecture gets an important role in urban planning in Paris. Parks are 1 The Middle Ages was a period of 5 to the 15th century in which the course of development of feudal society, a chan- ge in its economic, political and cultural life can be traced through early (5th - 11th century), developed (11th - 13th century), and late middle age (13 - 15th century) (Brandt, 1995). 2 The Renaissance (French Renaissance - revival, renewal) period in European culture from the late 14th until the 16th century Features: renewal of the spirit of ancient culture, the flourishing of new art forms, the development of science and philosophy of individualism. High Renaissance in the 16th century (Cinquecento) (Pischel, 1969). 3 Baroque is a style of European art from the late 16th to mid 18th century (comes after Renaissance and develops the Rococo, it lasts until the appearance of classicism), decorative, luxurious, flamboyant detail, restless forms and expressions with many contrasts of light and darkness (Anić et al., 2004,249). 90 TURIZAM | Volume 16, Issue 3, 88-101 (2012) Analysis of the touristic valorization of Maksimir Park in Zagreb (Croatia) pillars whose function is to improve the quality of life in cities, and at the same time they play a significant role in the city’s ecological sustainability, since they have a direct impact on the reduction of the ecological footprint of urban population and an influence on microclimate modifications. Park often stand as a synonym for pleasure (Stiperski, 1997). Related to this, Butorac and Šimleša (2007) state that the goal of urban ecology is creation, preservation and restoration of opened green surfaces in a sustainable way. As a result of the ecological concept in planning landscape surfaces, the term city greenery (Vresk, 1990) appears in the second half of the 20th century, including all city surfaces that are green areas (trees, bushes, ground covers, perennials, season flowers, grass) (Knežević and Dolenc, 2011). Apart from organiz- ing green areas within cities, increased attention is paid to raising the green belts around cit- ies. Their main role is to prevent the cities from widening, but they also play a role in recreation and relaxation of the urban population (parks in the UK) . Zagreb has a long tradition of park architecture and preserved park heritage. First green surfaces in Zagreb appeared during the Middle Ages in the form of hortulus-gardens of mixed purpose. Fruits, vegetables, medicinal plants and herbs, as well as vines were grown in them and they were maintained until the 19th century. Parks opened for public were erected at the end of the 18th century (Maksimir Park was opened in 1794). In the 19th and 20th century erecting new parks followed augmentation of the city area and the increased number of city inhabitants. According to newer data (2010), Zagreb has a total of 31 parks that have a total surface of 4 000 ha. Among the most representative, along with Maksimir Park, are the parks of “The Lenuci Horseshoe “or” Green Horseshoe “. It is a collective name for a sequence of seven squares that along with the parks and green areas (such as the tripar- tite framework) border the district of the Lower Town. Zagreb park “Maksimir falls under the category of distinguished romantic gardens. It is the most significant object of garden architecture in Croatia, a monument to park architecture, a cultural-historical monument and one of the symbols of Zagreb “(Butorac, Šimleša, 2007). The topic of park development architecture, their fields and significance for certain city areas has been pursued by various authors, including Butorac and Šimleša in their work „Green hearts of cities – The importance of gardens in urban areas“, Grgić in his work „Gar- dens of Split – Genesis and development of city garden architecture“, Paul F.J. Eagles in his work „International Trends in Park Tourism“, M. Walls in his work „Parks and Recreation in the United States“, and the report „The use of public parks in England 2003“ published by English Heritage, Sport England, and The Countryside Agency . Nowadays the problem of park utilization and development has been awakened through several aspects of selective tourism (eco-tourism, adventurous tourism and nature based tourism). Park tourism development under the stated branches of selective tourism is very significant. Ecotourism is a form of tourism that involves visits tonatural and unpolluted environment, especially of areas with a certain degree of environmental protection (Blažević and Knežević, 2006). It includes 7-10% of total world tourism demand. Adventure tourism, combining physical activity, cultural exchange or interaction with nature and engagement (http://www.slideshare.net ) has a recorded growth rate of 8%. Nature based tourism has an annual growth rate of 10-30%, is based on the idea that travels are undertaken mostly or only with the goal to enjoy nature’s attractions and to get involved in various outdoor activities such as bird watching, mountaineering and fishing (http://www.travel-industry-dictionary. com/nature-based-tourism.html). However, regardless which aspect of the theme field of park tourism in the Republic of Croatia is studied, it is insufficiently elaborated, which can be concluded based on the lack of TURIZAM | Volume 16, Issue 3, 88-101 (2012) 91 Nika Dolenc, Renata Grbac Žiković, Rade Knežević papers on this topic. The goal of this paper is to analyze the existing resources of Maksimir Park (both natural and social) and to induce further research. Methodological framework Work methods include documentation analysis (analysis of the existing literature, Internet sources and former studies, analysis of the history of park origination, history of Zagreb hor- ticulture, Maksimir Park history, its development and manners of utilization). Field research methods have been conducted directly when visiting the parks of England and the parks of the City of Zagreb. Touristic infrastructure and suprastructure have been evaluated, as well as the manners and customs of space exploitation. Field research included the method of visitors’ evaluation of Maksimir Park. Research of the London parks mostly took place in Hyde Park, Kew Garden, while in Zagreb the research was undertaken in the parks Maksimir and Zelena potkova. The research was conducted both during working days and weekends. Using the case study method, Maksimir Park has been studied as a touristic resource of the City of Zagreb. Research on visitors’ needs, expectations and satisfaction with the offer of the park was conducted in 2009 and 2010 using questionnaire evaluation method. Representative pat- tern involved people chosen by random selection method. A total of 120 visitors’ evaluation- swas done, out of which 111 were processed, as nine questionnaires were inadequately filled out. The goal of the research was to achieve a better understanding of the demand and the advancement of the offer so that it would meet the special requirements of the park with a purpose of its further development. The paper includes SWOT analysis of resources signifi- cant for the development of the park tourism, in order to obtain a better insight into the cur- rent situation and the possibilities of further advancement of the offer of the ark. Development of Maksimir Park Park heritage of Zagreb consists of works of the 19th century landscape architecture. In plac- es where the town fortifications stood, gardens, parks and walkways were built. Some were built on private land and later converted into public city parks. The majority of gardens and parks from the first half of the 19th century do not exist anymore , while some, such as Bishop Pond park, were later transformed; a few have been preserved, but their current condition is poor. Walkways also arise in the 19th century. The first regulated public walkway in Zagreb was the South Promenade (now Strossmayer’s walkway), founded in 1813. Maksimir Park was built on the rear southern foothills of Medvednica at the end of the 18th and the first half of the 19th century. It came to existence when the autochthonous for- est of common oak and hornbeam was cleared. It is the first public park in southeast Europe, and one of the first in the world. At the time of emerging it was one of the most important park accomplishments of Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. The founder of Maksimir Park the bishop of Zagreb, Maksimilijan von Vrhovac de Ehren- berg et Rakitovec (1752 - 1827). The Bishop Vrhovac had the idea to build a park in baroque (French) style. Witnesses of the style are three radial paths, shaped as duck’s foot, and made during his time, as it was one of baroque characteristics of a park. Paths constructed by the Bishop Vrhovac in the park are still visible today, and one of them is the main straight axis 92 TURIZAM | Volume 16, Issue 3, 88-101 (2012) Analysis of the touristic valorization of Maksimir Park in Zagreb (Croatia) of the alley from the main entrance (portal) all the way to the bottom of Vidikovac. Mak- simir Park was ceremonially opened for public on Aprli 24th 1794. It was named Maksimil- ian’s peace or shortly, Maksimir, after its founder. After the death of Bishop Maksimilijan Vrhovec, Bishop Aleksandar Alagović (1760- 1837) continued with the work on building Maksimir Park. He abandoned the initiative idea to form the park in baroque style and began opening and forming meadows and individu- al park complexes. After his death the work on the renovation of the park was continued by Archbishop Juraj pl. Haulik de Varallya (1788-1869) who hired a group of expert Austrian artists that built emperor’s parks in Laxenburg, Schönbrunn, Hetzendorf near Vienna. Head of the group was an expert landscape architect of emperor’s gardens, Michael Sebastian Riedl (1793- 1872). The other artists were: Franza Schücht, Leopold Philipp, Franjo Serafin Körbler, Joseph K äsc hmann, Antun Dominik Fernkorn, Anton Kothgasser and at that time, young architect Bartolomej Felbinger. Umbrella pavilion (today in its place we can find Mogila4), Bellevue pavilion, Public temple (today in its place we can find St. Juraj’s chapel construct- ed in 1863), Glorieta pavilion, Echo pavilion, Fisherman’s cottage, Peaceful cottage, Dutch cabin, Swiss house (1842), Gatekeeper’s cabin (1847), Gazebo (Kiosk, constructed in 1843), and Tavern (today “Maksimilijan” restaurant constructed around 1860) were all contruct- ed during that period. In 1839 the name of the park was changed to Jurjaves in honor of Archbishop Hauli- ka 1839, and after his death the park got its old name Maksimir back. Maksimir Park is designed in the stile of an English park. Natural difference of terrain altitude in the design of the park’s composition was skillfully used to emphasize its plasticity, as well as alternation of vast meadow areas with forest belts, and decorative plantations, which is its exceptional design value and characteristic. Maksimir Park was protected for the first time in 1948 when it was proclaimed to be a natural curiosity, together with the area of grange, arable land and forest in total area of 316 ha5, by the Resolution of former Ground institute for protection of natural curiosities in Zagreb. Today Maksimir Park is protected as a monument of park architecture by the Nature protection law (since 1964) and as a cultural asset by the Law on protection and pres- ervation of natural assets, and is registered in the Registry of cultural assets of Republic Cro- atia (http://www.park-maksimir.hr ). Maksimir Park is managed by the public institution “Maksimir” established in 1994, the City of Zagreb being its founder and owner. Therefore, the park is financed from the budg- et of the annual financial plan of the city. The remaining funds are gathered on the basis of par’ rented spaces to the restaurants and kiosks, the share of renting boats and bikes 4 Mogila is a kind of a monument-hill built in 1925 for the occasion of commemorating the one thousand years of Croatian kingdom. Mogila was designed by Aleksandar Freundenreich, and built by Croatian hawkers association as a memorial of III Croatian all-hawkers rally held in occasion of this historical jubilee. It was placed on the loca- tion where Umbrella pavilion used to be. It was constructed from lumps of soil brought from 155 different Croatian locations where significant events occured during thousand years of Croatian history. Items from Croatian histo- rical heritage were buried in the base of the hill, significant books, newspapers, periodicals and memorials of all hawkers association, that participated in construction of Mogila. Description of the place and historical signifi- cance that happened in places where the soil for Mogila was taken from is recorded in the memorials (http://www. park-maksimir.hr/Maksimir_hr/Maksimir_znamenitosti2.htm ). 5 The size of the park is now 316 hectares, which is almost like New York’s Central Park, which has 340 acres and more than double London’s Hyde Park with 142 acres (http://www.park-maksimir.hr/Maksimir_hr/ Maksimir_o_parku.htm TURIZAM | Volume 16, Issue 3, 88-101 (2012) 93 Nika Dolenc, Renata Grbac Žiković, Rade Knežević because entrance to the park is free of charge as are individual tour arranged facilities with- in its premises. Apart from Maksimir Park as a whole, certain cultural properties are also protected: the new mansion Bishop Haulik, Gatekeeper’s lodge, Echo Pavilion, Gazebo, Swiss House, the obelisk, the chapel of St. George, Bishop Haulika mansion, outbuildings of Haulik’s mansion, silk factory, and beehives. Natural attractions of the park consist of woods, meadows, lakes and streams which are important habitats for many plant and ani- mal species, thus contributing to biodiversity. Preserved centuries-old oak trees have partic- ular value. More than a hundred species of birds, some of which are significant hole-nest- ing birds6, have been sighted in Maksimir Park. Other species associated with old trees, like squirrels and some species of bats, or globally endangered animals are also significant. Par- allelly with the growth of modernization and urbanization of the society, the impact of the park on the quality of life in the city (microclimatic impact, ecological footprint, health func- tion) is more and more recognized. Tnks to the natural and social heritage, and its distribution in the park, there are three distinct zones made based on the number of visitors. The total number of visitors to the park was obtained on the basis of the number of tickets sold for the Zoo in 2009 and increased by the number of visitors by the method of observation, and amounts 1300.000 visitors. The mentioned zones are: zone of intensive visiting, zone of recreational visiting and zone of mul- ti-purpose use. Zone of intensive visiting includes the historic core of the park located within the most protected cultural objects. It is visited by 85% of the total number of visitors. Among the protected cultural objects are the Gatekeeper’s lodge, Echo Pavilion, Gazebo, Swiss House and Chapel of St. George, and many monuments and sculptures (Obelisk, Mogila, Neapol- itan fisherman). Gatekeeper’s cottage was built in 1847, and today it represents the home of the Informa- tion Centre of the park. Echo Pavilion is the only preserved pavilion in Maksimir Park, also known as Lantern- Temple, constructed after 1840. Its attractiveness to visitors in addition to the physiognomy comes from the fact that it successfully duplicates and rejects sounds, which creates a spe- cial acoustic experience for its visitors. Public institution „Maksimir“ renovated the pavil- ion in 2001. Gazebo (Viewpoint) also known by the name Kiosk, was constructed in the period from 1841 to 1843. It is the most notable object, 17 m tall, with paths branching from its center. Main parties of the park are grouped around it. Its tourist function is self explanatory, as its name is viewpoint. Public institution “Maksimir” renovated the Gazebo in 2002. Swiss house known as Tyrolean house, as well, was constructed in 1842. Haulik’s salon gives a special value to the house, made of wooden plating and richly carved baroque ceiling. Windows and balcony doors are decorated with 12 stained-glass windows with scenes from Swiss and Tyrol landscapes after which the object was named. Exhibition about the history of Maksimir Park and information point are located in the salon. The exhibition was set by the Public Institution “Maksimir”, and for park visitors the entrance is free (http://www. park-maksimir.hr/Maksimir_hr/Maksimir_kulturna_bastina.htm). 6 In the Maksimir Park, a population density of middle spotted woodpecker (Dendrocopos medius), an endangered species in Europe, is one of the largest in the world (http://www.park-maksimir.hr/Maksimir_hr/Maksimir_o_ parku.htm ). 94 TURIZAM | Volume 16, Issue 3, 88-101 (2012) Analysis of the touristic valorization of Maksimir Park in Zagreb (Croatia) In this zone there are restaurants (Maksimir restaurant, catering facilities Viewpoint and Swiss house), the administration building of the Public Institution “Maksimir” and the Zoo which was established in 1925. Within the zone there are two playgrounds, and first, second and third lake, out of five. Due to the diversity of the offer, this area records great fre- quency and interest of visitors. Its purpose is receiving visitors and providing the informa- tive and educational content, as well as recreation and entertainment. The main avenue lead- ing from the main entrance toward the Gazebo records the highest frequency of visitors on weekends as do the areas around the Gazebo and the Swiss house. Catering in the park is reduced to the restaurant “Maksimir” where one can taste tradi- tional dishes, and two catering facilities located in Swiss house and the Gazebo where only drinks are served. Zone of recreation includes most of the forest community of Maksimir Park, and the fourth and the fifth lake. The path leading to the fourth and fifth lake records a much lower frequency of people, only 15% of visitors. These trails are mostly used by athletes, cyclists or hikers (in pairs). This zone is intended for reception of visitors of all structures with special emphasis on recreational use, hiking and cycling. Zone of multiple-use includes the area of the park, which is used for various purposes and is not meant for visitors, although it is integral part of the park. This area belongs to the par- ish house of St.. Jerome, the area of Agriculture and Forestry University of Zagreb, the area of the Police Academy, and a greenary. The park, along with so far mentioned elements, offers complement the sport - recrea- tional features. When established, the original purpose of the park was relaxation and recre- ation. Therefore, various sports events have been organized in the park (in 1853 first ice rink of Zagreb on the Lower (first) lake was opened ; in 1894 ski courses were organized, in 1923 at the Lower (first) lake the first international swimming and water polo match was held; in 1931 the first golf course in the Republic of Croatia was set, the competitions in rowing and international cycling races were held) (http://www.park-maksimir.hr). Possibilities that the park today offers to the visitors, thanks to its groomed trails and meadow areas, in terms of sport and recreation, relate to walking through the park down the groomers, Nordic walk- ing, jogging, cycling, rowing boats at the Third lake, and for the youngest there are two mod- ern playgrounds. Members of Athletic club “Veteran,” Huck Finn Adventure Travel, Scout group “Maksimir”, orientation Club “Maksimir”, Mountaineering Association Zagreb and Zagreb Association for sports recreation “Sports for All” conduct their activities. Public institution “Maksimir” improved the offer of the park by managing and organiz- ing educational programs meant for children (usually school groups). The synergy between natural and social elements that are the touristic offer of the park, is not used enough for the promotion of tourism in Zagreb. The website of the Zagreb Tour- ist Board shortly points out some sights of the park, but does not offer any contact informa- tion directly from the Public Institution “Maksimir” nor information about directions to the park. On the website parks are mentioned as an attraction, and in recent years are part- ly involved in travel programs of sightseeing, but this is primarily related to the parks of “Green Horseshoe” that are the part of the city’s cultural identity. Maksimir, in this respect, has not been sufficiently recognized nor affirmed as a tourism resource rich in content and, therefore, isn’t in adequate measure included in the tourist offer. For this reason, the Public Institution “Maksimir” from 2011 began to develop its cooperation with the Zagreb Tourist Board with the aim of better tourist valorization of the park. TURIZAM | Volume 16, Issue 3, 88-101 (2012) 95 Nika Dolenc, Renata Grbac Žiković, Rade Knežević Analysis of the tourism resources of Maksimir Park The modern lifestyle involves less physical work and movement and growth of urban popula- tion in the world. This is the influence of the transition process marked by modern life con- ditions (computer technology, diet, imbalances in the growth of population and infrastruc- ture of the city) and less work places for physical labor.Lack of physical labor that was present in the past has lead to low physical activity among people. By visiting parks and recreational venues, people can compensate for the lack. The average visitor who visits Zagreb parks is aware of his or her position, comes to the park for a reason and knows quite little and about contents of the park. This can be seen from the summary of survey results. Empirical data about the visitors of Maksimir Park were collected using survey research. This research is the part of a larger project. The questionnaire requested the respondents’ opinion about issues, which provided for the following information: • The frequency of movement of visitors and their commitment to a recreational site • Establishing the ecological quality of areas where people gather • Identifying ways of recreation and relaxation of visitors The aim of evaluation is to obtain basic information about the visitors, their behavior, evaluation and motivation of their arrival to the park, activities and services are estimated, as are certain strengths and weaknesses in the tourist offer, and the effectiveness of promo- tion and the ability to access the park were evaluated. The results of the analysis of the questionnaire shows the structure of visitors according to age and gender. 63% of the visitors were women, according to age the most frequent, 39%, was the group between 10 and 29, then, 31%, was the group between 30 and 59, and almost equally was represented the age group of 60 or older, 30%. The availability of the park to visitors is presented in Figure 1 which shows that visitors often come to the park on foot (42% of the respondents); the distance between the park and the city center is a 30-minute walk. Visitors also arrive by car (in 32% of the cases) because there are two parking lots in the vicinity of the park, in the system of the third charging zone7 and their capacity is approximately 550 parking spaces. Public transport in the struc- ture of arrivals is represented by 24%, and bicycle with only 2%. From the offered tourist services, materials and infrastructure of the park respondents have mostly (60%) used the services of the catering facility at the Gazebo. When analyzing the quality of the content offered in the park, Gallery in Haulik’s salon, restaurant in Swiss house, Info Center, and bicycle rental are given the highest grade. Res- taurant Maksimir was given the lowest grade (Figure 2). As the most attractive resources of the park respondents pointed out the untouched nature, the gallery of Haulik’s salon in Swiss house and boats at the Third lake (Figure 3). The activities that visitors usually enjoy in the park are walking (35%) and visiting of the gallery in Haulik’s showroom (23%). Visitors rate (low, medium and high quality) the quality of transport infrastructure in the park (access roads, bicycle and walking paths). The entire infrastructure has been evaluat- ed by medium quality. 7 Time use of parking at parking areas is limited in the first zone up to 1 hour, at second zone up to 2 hours, the third zone up to 3 hours (http://www.zgh.hr/default.aspx?id=38 ) 96 TURIZAM | Volume 16, Issue 3, 88-101 (2012) Analysis of the touristic valorization of Maksimir Park in Zagreb (Croatia) Figure 1. Availability of Maksimir Park to the visitors Source: Authors’ production Figure 2. Assessment of quality offer in the park in 2009 Source: Authors’ production 0 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 40 (%) car public transport bicycle on foot 0 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 Bi cy cl es Re st au ra nt C af fe G az eb o C af fe Sw is s H ou se H au lik s sa lo n In fo ce nt re O th er ac ti vi ti es Ed uc at io n ac ti vi ti es In fo m at er ia ls M ar ke d tr ai ls A ni m at ed co nt en ts low medium high TURIZAM | Volume 16, Issue 3, 88-101 (2012) 97 Nika Dolenc, Renata Grbac Žiković, Rade Knežević Figure 3. The most attractive resources to the park visitors in 2009 Source: Authors’ production Figure 4. The expectations of visitors from visiting the park Source: Authors’ productio 0 10 20 30 40 50 60 70 Bi cy cl es Re st au ra nt C af fe G az eb o C af fe Sw is s H ou se H au lik s sa lo n In fo ce nt re Bo at s N at ur e Re cr ea ti on Ed uc at io n ac ti vi ti es In fo m at er ia ls M ar ke d tr ai ls A ni m at ed ac ti vi ti es 0 20 40 60 80 100 120 En jo yi ng th e co us in e Re st W al k Sp or ts So lit ud e En te rt ai n- m en t A dv en tu re O th er C on ta ct w it h na tu re Ex pl or in g 98 The motive for coming to the park is spending time in nature in 36%, then in 25% recre- ation, and finally, the need for peace and quiet in 19%. By coming to the park, visitors expect contact with nature and learning about its natural and cultural heritage (Figure 4). Most of the visitors visit the park a few times a year, 38% (Figure 5) and usually spend two hours there (mainly because of parking fees). Other visitors come every day (18%) or weekly (18%), and once a month 16% of the respondents come. During their stay at the park the visitors are usually (52% of respondents) are willing to spend 10-50 kn (0.60 – 1.30 euros) for the offered contents. In their opinion in order to improve the quality of offer, trails should be regulated and marked better, the contents of catering facilities would have to be completed and the content expanded by introduction of new activities to animate visitors. 0 5 10 15 20 25 30 35 (%) Daily Once a week Once a month A few time per a year Not visiting Figure 5. The frequency of arrivals of visitors to the park in 2009 Source: Authors’ production Figure 6. Satisfaction of the visitors by arrangement of Maksimir Park Source: Authors’ production 0 10 20 30 40 50 (%) Not satisfied Might be better Satisfactorily Would not change anything 99 The majority of the visitors are either satisfied by arrangement of the park (32%) or would not change anything which can be seen in Figure 6. The survey results show that the park is almost equally interesting to all age groups, and that it is easily accessible (most visitors come on foot), but in spite of that only 36% of the vis- itors come to the park once a week or more frequently. Motives for coming as well as the most attractive resources have to do with nature (flora and fauna) and recreation, but also with the gallery in Haulik’s showroom where it is noted that the visitors are interested in cultural elements that are not sufficiently involved in the offer of the park. Consumption is very low between 10 and 50 kn (0.60 and 1.30 euros), but one should note that the entrance to the park is free of charge as is the entrance to the gallery at Haulik’s showroom which again sug- gests a modest cultural offer. As such, regardless of the variety of natural resources and the existence of cultural resources, Maksimir Park is not recognized as a tourist destination. For this reason it is necessary to regulate the monuments and their environment,set interpretive panels with information, and adjust working hours of cultural sights and promote natural and cultural heritage. It is necessary to create several traditional and cultural events aimed at the presentation of cultural and natural values and entertainment of tourists. It should be mentioned that the cuisine is very important, authentic food and beverage are component of the cultural and historical heritage. Also, the fencing of the park would create a precondition for the financial gain. Collection of symbolic fee for the entrance to Maksimir Park would ensure income and enable reconstruction and modernization. During the process of improv- ing the offer, the quality should be taken into consideration, as well asthe ecological footprint of certain content on the park, as shown in the SWOT analysis (Table 1). Results of field studies of English parks show that the urban horticulture is an essential ele- ment in creating a recognizable image of the city, urban identity and tourism, and what the City of Zagreb is missing. One of the characteristics of tourism in London are the Royal Parks, particularly those in the central zone of London, Hyde Park, then the neighboring, that creates a unified whole, Kensington Gardens and Regent’s Park 8at the northern end of central Lon- don. Closer to the center of town are smaller Royal Parks as Green Park and St. James’s Park. 8 In Regent’s park is located Zoo. Table 1. SWOT analysis of tourism characteristic of Maksimir Park STRENGTHS WEAKNESSES ‒ accessibility ‒ biodiversity ‒ cultural heritage ‒ different aspects of recreation ‒ vicinity of the Zoo ‒ qualified personnel ‒ lack of extra content ‒ lack of marketing and promotional activities ‒ lack of funds ‒ parking charges, which limits the period of stay ‒ land ownership status OPPORTUNITIES THREATS ‒ cooperation between public and private sector in develop- ment ‒ positive motivation connected to accession to the EU ‒ hiring local employees ‒ development of tourism throughout the year ‒ conversion of unused infrastructure ‒ promotion of the Park as a recognizable tourist destination ‒ degradation of natural and cultural values because of exces- sive tourist use ‒ building the infrastructure of poor quality ‒ -slow bureaucracy and lack of cooperation among institu- tions ‒ lack of local initiatives ‒ disrupting the ecological balance of the park Source: Authors’ production 100 Hyde Park is extremely popular for sport activities, and sometimes it is the host of outdoor concerts and various cultural and sporting events that lack in Maksimir. Several large parks are located outside the center, including other Royal Park, Greenwich Park to the southeast, Bushy Park and Richmond Park to the southwest, and Victoria Park to the east. The parks are fenced which makes the control within the park much easier. There are also several less formal semi-natural open spaces such as Hampstead Heath area of 3.2 km2 in north Lon- don, which includes Kenwood House, a popular location for the summer lake shore con- certs of classical music as well as fireworks; a large number of tourists visits the park every weekend. In London, system of transport and tourism infrastructure is very well construct- ed and provides very good connections and easy access to parks. Each park has an attrac- tive tourist suprastructure, which includes educational facilities and interpretative natural and cultural heritage, cuisine, variety of sporting and recreational facilities there to serve as entertainment for visitors. In larger parks, such as Hyde Park, people with disabilities or mobility problems can rent electric vehicles to facilitate moving within the park. Green and water areas in parks are used for tourist, educational and recreational purposes. Compar- ing the knowledge gained in English parks and other parks in the world (Guell in Barcelona, Schönbrunn, Austria), with the situation of utilization of Maksimir Park much weaker, and in some areas completely deficient utilization of natural and social resources has been noted. Maksimir usually serves to the citizens and a small number of tourists for dog walkingdogs in areas where it’s permitted and for recreational sports. Other segments of the offer in Mak- simir Park should be developed. By doing the field research of Kew Gardens in London, one of the world-famous parks of natural features, it was evident that the combination of landscape architecture and tour- ism on the example of English parks means creativity, imagination, sensation and attrac- tion. Attractions and facilities are related to modern trends and fashions of today. Content is constantly updated to make this park more attractive and prosperous. Some of these facili- ties are the Japanese garden and a Chinese pagoda with horses, carriages, horse trails, guard shifts on the horses, the modern children’s playgrounds, toilet facilities, labyrinths, modern sculptures, catering, deck chairs by the shores of lakes and numerous other attractions, all in order to increase the fun and diversity of use. Comparing these English parks with Maksimir Park deficiencies of its tourist attractions (the lack of content that animate visitors), are clearly visible but this can also be a good exam- ple of quality and a successful way to improve the offer in the park and take advantage of all potential resources. Conclusion Park architecture in Zagreb dates from the late 18th and early 19th the century. During this period Maksimir Park was designed and built. The awareness and the need to organize green areas such as parks, gardens, alleys, etc. that serve the residents for rest and recreation, existed even back then. From that time until today, Maksimir failed to improve its status to become one of the most recognizable symbols of the city of Zagreb, and has remained an area for passive recreation and relaxation. Such state does not respond to the needs of a modern man, not of the tourists coming from cultures that taught them to expect rich gastronomic, entertainment, educational, cultural, and animation contents. 101 Despite the resources (natural and cultural heritage), Maksimir lags in its tourist offer due to the failure to develop and adjust it to requirements imposed by the modern tourist demand. It is important to improve cooperation with the Zagreb Tourist Board and create a new image of the park as the modern tourist destination for the same reason. References Anić et al., (2004). Croatian Encyclopaedic Dictionary, Novi Liber, Zagreb (In Croatian) Bennis, E. (2006). The Story of Gardens in Europe: Source Text for European Garden Her- itage Network Blažević, I., Knežević, R. (2006). Croatian National Tourist Geography, Faculty of Tourism and Hospitality Management, Opatija. (In Croatian) Brandt, M.(1995.). Medieval period of historical development, SN Liber, Zagreb (In Croatian) Butorac, M., Šimleša, D., 2007. The green heart of the city – The importance of gardens and parks in urban areas, the Social Research Vol.16 no.6 (92), 1081 – 1101. (In Croatian) Knežević, R., Dolenc, N., (2011). Ecological state of Zagreb’s parks and their impact on human health, Croatian Academy of Medical Sciences, Committee on health tourism and natural medicinal resources, Zagreb, 123-129. (In Croatian) Pischel, G. (1969). General history of art,Mladost, Zagreb (In Croatian) Stiperski, Z. (1997). Synonyms for Comfort and Discomfort in Zagreb, Prostor: a scholar- ly journal of architecture and urban planning, Vol.5 No. 2(14) 1997. Zagreb, 307-320. (In Croatian) Šćitaroci, O., Bojanić, B. (1996). Garden Architecture as an Element of the City Image, Pros- tor: a scholarly journal of architecture and urban planning, Vol.4 No.1(11), Zagreb, 79 – 94. (In Croatian) Vresk, M. (1990).City in regional and urban planning, Školska Knjiga, Zagreb. (In Croatian) Sources http://www.geografija.hr/novosti.asp?id_novosti=645&id_projekta=0&trazi=Lenucijeva%20 potkova http://project.eghn.org/downloads/EGHN_Story%20of%20gardens http://www.slideshare.net/hillarypjenkins/intro-to-adventure-tourism-op-09-presenta- tion http://www.travel-industry-dictionary.com/nature-based-tourism.html http://www.park-maksimir.hr/Maksimir_hr/Maksimir_znamenitosti2.htm http://www.park-maksimir.hr/Maksimir_hr/Maksimir_povijest_parka.htm http://www.park-maksimir.hr/Maksimir_hr/Maksimir_o_parku.htm http://www.park-maksimir.hr/Maksimir_hr/Maksimir_sport.html http://www.park-maksimir.hr/Maksimir_hr/Maksimir_kulturna_bastina.htm http://www.zgh.hr/default.aspx?id=38 
work_rq243gupinfetb46vacza5sao4	----	Microsoft Word - SchneiderFinalUnformatted.doc 1 Climate Change: Do We Know Enough for Policy Action? Stephen H. Schneider Stanford University, Stanford, California, USA This paper appeared in the journal, Science and Engineering Ethics, Volume 12, No. 4, 2006, pp. 607-636, publisher: Opragen Publications; www.opragen.co.uk. An earlier version of this paper was presented at a conference on “Issues of Risk and Responsibility in Contemporary Engineering and Science: French and U.S. Perspectives,” organized by the France-Stanford Center for Interdisciplinary Studies and held at Stanford University, April 7-8, 2003. Keywords: climate change; “dangerous” climate change; risk management; climate policy ABSTRACT: The climate change problem must be thought of in terms of risk, not certainty. There are many well-established elements of the problem that carry considerable confidence whereas some aspects are speculative. Therefore, the climate problem emerges not simply as a normal science research issue, but as a risk management policy debate as well. Descriptive science entails using empirical and theoretical methods to quantify the two factors that go into risk assessment: “What can happen?” and “What are the odds?” (Probability x Consequences). Policymakers should, in turn, take that information and use it to make value judgments about what is safe, what is dangerous, what is fair. To make these judgments, policymakers need to know the probabilities that experts assign to various possible outcomes in order to make risk management decisions to hedge against unsafe, dangerous and unfair outcomes. The climate debate needs to be reframed away from absolute costs—or benefits—into relative delay times to achieve specific caps or to avoid crossing specific agreed “dangerous” climate change thresholds. Even in most optimistic scenarios, CO2 will stabilize at a much higher concentration than it has reached today, and temperature will rise accordingly. It will take even longer for sea level rise from thermal expansion and the melting of polar ice to occur, but what is most problematic is that how we handle our emissions now and in the next five decades preconditions the sustainability of the next millennium. We must think of climate change in terms of risk, not certainty. Let me begin by saying that we are not talking primarily about certainties, but rather about risks. The ozone problem, the climate problem, and, in fact, almost all interesting socio- technical problems are filled with deep uncertainties: uncertainties that are not resolved today and may not be resolved to a high degree of confidence before we have to make decisions regarding how to deal with their implications. They often involve very strong and opposite stakeholder interests, and they involve high stakes. In fact, sociologists Funtowicz and Ravetz1 have called such problems examples of “post-normal science.” When involved in what Thomas Kuhn calls “normal science,”2 we scientists go to our labs, do our usual measurements, calculate our usual statistics, build our usual models, and proceed within a particular well-established paradigm. Post-normal science, on the other hand, acknowledges that while we’re doing our normal science, some groups want or need to know the answers well before normal science has resolved the deep inherent uncertainties surrounding the problem at hand. 2 They have a stake in the outcome and want some way of dealing with the vast array of uncertainties, which, by the way, are not all equal in the degree of confidence they carry. There are many components of the climate problem that are well-established— many aspects that we have considerable confidence in—and then there are those that are speculative, and they get mixed together in the media and the political debate. This mixing together of aspects which carry varying degrees of confidence is too often done on purpose; proponents of either side of the climate change debate (i.e., ignore climate change versus stop it cold) deliberately select information out of context to support ideological positions and their or their clients’ interests. The climate change debate—particularly its policy components—fall clearly into the post- normal science characterization and will likely remain there for decades, which is the minimum amount of time it will take to resolve some of the larger remaining uncertainties like climate sensitivity levels or the likelihood of abrupt non-linear events like a shut off of the Gulf Stream in the high North Atlantic. In these situations, normal scientific endeavors are distorted by the salience of the problem and the political use—and abuse—of each incremental new result. So, the climate problem emerges not simply as a normal science research issue, but a risk management policy debate as well. Risk is classically defined as ‘probability x consequences’. We need both factors. Descriptive science, what we like to call our “objective” purview, entails using empirical and theoretical methods to come up with the two factors that go into risk assessment: a) What can happen? and b) What are the odds? Both are essential. But then, it’s not as simple as it sounds. It’s very easy to assess what can happen and what are the odds of it happening when we’re talking about rolling dice, playing cards, or flipping coins. Those activities all involve objective probabilities from which frequencies can be derived to determine the likelihood of any specific outcome. However, in climate change, we’re generally talking about future events, and there are no empirical methods that we can use to objectively determine what will happen in the future. Our empirical data is only about the present and the past, and therefore, the best way we can simulate the future is by constructing a systems theory—built, of course, by aggregating empirically derived sub-models. However, the full integrated systems model is not directly verifiable before the fact (i.e. until the future happens and proves it right or wrong), and thus only subjective methods are available. The systems model can be evaluated based on its accuracy in predicting certain (already-known) outcomes—like its ability to simulate the climatic cooling following an explosive volcanic eruption (for a climate model) or the effect of a price shock on the consumption of oil or the rate at which the price rise might have induced technological efficiency (for an economic model). But, these surrogate whole-system model “verification” exercises are still not fully objective since they rely on structural assumptions about future conditions and processes—and those are necessarily subjective, even if they’re expert-based and built initially on empirical work. The degree of confidence we may assign to any assessed risk is always subjective, since probabilities about future events necessarily carry some subjectivity. That doesn’t mean it is not an expert-driven assessment, but it is still subjective. So, the big question we’re left with is: What probabilities and from whom? Then, there are the normative judgments, or the value judgments: What is safe? What is dangerous? The 1992 UN Framework Convention on Climate Change (UNFCCC), which was signed by the senior Bush and the leaders of 166 other countries and entered into force in 1994 (currently the UNFCCC has been ratified by 189 nations), essentially stated that it is the job of the Framework Convention to achieve “stabilization of greenhouse gas concentrations in the atmosphere at a level that would prevent dangerous anthropogenic interference with the climate system”3— 3 although nobody knows precisely what that means! “Dangerous” is a value judgment that depends upon the assessment of the probabilities and consequences we just discussed. We scientists can provide a range of scenarios and even assign subjective likelihoods and confidence levels to them, but it’s up to policymakers to decide what risks are acceptable—what is dangerous and should be avoided and what course of action should be taken or not taken. The other major question in the climate change debate is: What is fair? If you’re going to do a cost-benefit analysis to determine the least expensive way to get the maximum amount of climate abatement, it may be that in the “one dollar, one vote” world that cost-benefit methods typically imply, some action—passive adaptation, for example—might be cheapest. But here’s the dilemma: A rich country that has historically produced large emissions of greenhouse gases (GHGs) may likely find it cheaper (at least for a few decades before the impacts become too severe for cost effective adaptation) to adapt than to mitigate by retiring, before their useful economic lifetime is over, a few coal-burning power plants, for example. On the other hand, a poorer country in the hotter equatorial area with fewer resources (and thus less adaptive capacity) might be both more harmed by the climate change and also unable to pay for or otherwise deal with the damages because it lacks the same degree of adaptive capacity as the richer country. Thus, adaptation might seem cheaper and more effective in a cost-benefit analysis that uses high discount rates and aggregates all costs and benefits into equivalent dollars (since the rich country, with a much larger share of world GDP, will be able to adapt more easily—the 2003 European heat wave and Hurricane Katrina notwithstanding—but that policy may not be fair in its distribution across rich and poor countries, which leads to alternative political views of what should be done and who should pay to abate risks. These equity/efficiency trade-offs are inherent in the ozone problem as well; they’re just multiplied by a larger factor in dealing with climate change. Do the media accounts accurately represent the scientific debate? Contrast the media debate with the science debate. On the one extreme, in the media, we can have the kind of “high-quality” work, featured from time to time in supermarket tabloids, which proclaims, “Nostradamus Predicts Hottest Summer in History,” with a caricature of the French Renaissance “seer.” For those who may laugh, remember how many people look at these stories compared with the number who have seen the entire body of work that climatologists have written. What I do like about Nostradamus, as he appears in these stories, is that he is often shown with what all seers must have: a crystal ball. I’m very jealous because his cartoon crystal ball is clear, unlike most of ours, depicted metaphorically below. 4 Photograph: S.H. Schneider Climatologists also have to make forecasts about the future state of the world, and we do it by piecing together data utilizing all the tools that are available to us to construct climate models. We use normal science, that is, empirical methods, to try to build our understanding of many sub-disciplines. We try to determine what types of technologies will exist in the future and how much of each of several greenhouse gases will be emitted, and then we have to figure out what that does to the climate by looking at biogeochemical cycles. Each one of these sub-systems is worked on empirically, and we have hard data and evidence we can use to construct them, but when we put them all together to forecast the future, of course, there is no empiricism about what will happen in 2100, nor is there very clear empiricism about how to test our hazy crystal ball. Therefore, this is an issue that is ripe for people to select their preferred happy or unhappy outcome totally out of context, claim that particular outcome to be the one and only truth, and then find the media and friendly politicians willing to lend an ear—or a voice—to trumpet such “truth.” So what are the elements we need to look for in our crystal ball exercise of making quantitative future projections? At the outset, it is the amount of GHGs people will throw into the air. A significant part of those emissions come from vehicles. So, we have to estimate what vehicles people will drive, how far they will drive them, etc. The U.S. emits about 15% more CO2 than it did in 1990, and Sport Utility Vehicles (SUVs) are a good part of the problem. Even so, a Wall Street Journal editorial (March 12, 1998) entitled, “Large Vehicles Are the Solution, Not the Problem,” declares that denying people the opportunity to have free access to SUVs and enjoy the personal safety of driving a heavier vehicle than most other motorists is to fly in the face of individual freedoms. The editorial board uses technical arguments when, in fact, they’re taking an ideological position, the position being that defending individual rights is more important than worrying about the collective side-effects of the tailpipes of these “dinosaurs.” The board also makes simple misstatements about safety: The SUV rollover accident rate is actually high enough that the extra cushioning they provide in a two-car collision doesn’t make up for the added rollover 5 risk, to say nothing of the fact that large vehicle drivers endanger the majority of other motorists driving more sensibly sized, less polluting cars. In fact, going gargantuan creates a sort of “tragedy of the commons” by providing people with a perverse incentive to get bigger and heavier as a defensive move to counter the early adopters of big and heavy vehicles—a questionable practice with regard to socially responsible action which is not reflected in the price of SUVs. Also, SUVs create bigger imported oil balance of payments deficits and even may play a role in having to defend access to oil with massive amounts of blood and expense—none of which is included in the highly subsidized price of these leviathans of the pavement that belong in the Australian outback or on snow-packed high mountain roads, not clogging city streets or commuter freeways in regions with temperate climates. Emissions and climate scenarios. Now in the US we have even bigger gas guzzlers, road hogs, and vision blockers being thrust on the market: Hummers. I strongly suspect that the Iraq war, in which Hummers were seen in cavalry convoys on the news every night, has been free advertising for these “Hum-Vees.” In fact, there has been a move in the U.S. Congress and parts of the Bush administration that has some of us shaking our heads because it is so transparently absurd: to allow people to take tax deductions for buying Hummers. You pay $55,000 for this oversized non-car, you endanger other people in the streets if you crash into them, you emit obscene amounts of tailpipe emissions per mile, and instead of there being a very high tax to discourage this anti-social behavior, our politicians provide an incentive—a $25,000 tax deduction! In any case, the picture below which shows graffiti on the wall in a Washington, D.C. subway ad, makes the point about as well as the old Simon and Garfunkel lyrics from the Sounds of Silence: “The words of the prophets are written on the subway walls…” The ad shows a Hummer on a snowfield and says, “Does well at the poles.” This editorial graffiti inserts “MELTING” to read, “Does well at melting the poles.” (And this is indeed true.) Photograph: S.H. Schneider One way to reduce GHG emissions from vehicles is to buy more efficient cars like my hybrid Honda Civic (pictured here in front of my house in California) which gets about twice the mileage of the regular Civic—and, of all things, it gets a positive incentive from the political world: we received a $2,000 rebate for this efficient vehicle (contrast that to the $25,000 tax deductions for vehicles that are over 6000 pounds—a textbook example of a “perverse subsidy”). But, even if everyone bought these hybrids, there still would be an increase in vehicular greenhouse gas emissions 6 in the future if people in the world who currently do not have personal transportation vehicles start to join the market in large enough numbers. However, the rise in emissions would be substantially less than if the world continued to follow the Victorian industrial technology route, reproducing gas-guzzlers rather than hybrids, plug-in hybrids or fuel cell powered electric vehicles. Photograph: Terry Root What else that might happen in the future must we estimate to project climate change? In order to know what will happen, we have to forecast what kind of energy systems will be in use: Will it be wind energy? People like to say yes. Windmills are a very attractive alternative to fossil fuels. Their cost of construction is now comparable to, if not less than, almost every other form of energy. The problem is that they’re an intermittent producer of power, so at the margin, a small amount of them is very efficient—you just plug them into the power grid and boost the fraction of electricity produced by renewables. But, if you start to replace more than 5% or 10% of the existing energy system with windmills, then you have to deal with storage and transmission issues. You begin to find that when you do marginal cost economics, a source like wind energy is fine in the beginning, but when it goes from being a marginal to a non-marginal source of energy, you can’t use the same rules. Non- marginal change is very difficult for many people inside of the cost-benefit world to deal with, yet that’s exactly what we have to do when we play Nostradamus and look into our hazy crystal ball. We have to build systems models that include those cost changes over time. And we have to consider what the policy world that wants to create a reduction in the use of conventional technology does to stimulate private investments to invent better systems or to reduce unit costs via “learning by doing” experience—which some call induced technical change. That’s a major feedback included in virtually no one’s model. Larry Goulder and I4 did some work on this in an energy economy model, but at the moment, it’s in very few economic models for climate change policy work, and even when it is, most, including ours, are fairly simple treatments. 7 Photograph: S.H. Schneider At this point, it’s necessary to cite an equation from Yoichi Kaya5,6 to remind us of what we have to do to forecast future levels of greenhouse gases, to say nothing of other gases. So, let’s look at CO2 emissions and break it into four terms. [This is a modification of the Ehrlich and Holdren7 I=PAT population multiplier from 35 years ago.] [CO2 Emissions](t,x) = Population(t,x) x [GDP/capita](t,x) x [Energy/GDP](t,x) x [Carbon/Energy](t,x) Emissions at a time in the future, t, and the region, x (x could be the whole globe, or it could be one place like California), is a product of four things (this is true by definition, as it is an identity): 1) Population at that time and place; 2) The affluence as measured by gross domestic product (GDP), which is not the only measure of well- being, but it is a typical one, and I don’t know any politician from the left to the right that is against increasing that number in their jurisdiction; 3) Energy per unit GDP, a very important term, also called energy intensity which is the amount of energy it takes to produce a unit of GDP; and 4) Carbon produced per unit of energy, the so- called carbon intensity. Now, obviously, which has higher energy intensity: moving heavy logs around in diesel trucks or moving electrons around in the micro-chips of computers? Clearly, the transition of society away from energy-intensive industries like logging and mining, and towards information technology and high-tech products, reduces—and has been reducing for decades at a percent or two per year—this energy intensity number. Since energy intensity is in a multiplier for emissions, it’s a very important component of the equation. If you are an organization that builds diesel trucks or logs forests, you don’t like the idea of reducing this number at all. So, what ends up happening is, if we have a political push to reduce energy intensity and emissions at the same time, there will be blocking coalitions created by the people who prefer doing things the old way. They’re very well-organized, and they’ll do everything they can to protect their interests. While reducing energy intensity will create new jobs and new industries and will benefit the public at large, these beneficiaries are not generally aware of their potential good fortune and thus are not yet politically organized. So, we end up with a highly visible group of people who are strongly opposed to dropping that energy intensity number, and they cannot easily be countered by the rest of the members of the general public, who sort of vaguely agree 8 with reducing energy intensity, and say so in opinion polls, but don’t appear to be passionate about it in the way they vote (or contribute to political campaigns), at least not yet. This brings us to the final technological factor, carbon per unit of energy, or carbon intensity which is highest for coal and synfuels produced from coal or natural gas and lowest (zero) for nuclear energy and renewables. It’s directly related to fossil fuel energy intensity: The higher the fossil fuel components burned—particularly coal— the higher the carbon emissions. Some have proposed capturing carbon dioxide at the power station and sequestering it underground—a feasible technique in limited quantities—but the extent to which this will safely and effectively store a trillion tons of carbon underground over the rest of the century is still a large unknown—as is the extra cost per kilowatt of electricity generated with a carbon capture and sequestration (CCS) component. Climatologists have to make projections of all of these factors in the Kaya equation, and then we can forecast what might happen. But, as mentioned, these factors are all interrelated. If you have a large GDP per capita, you have more money available to reduce energy intensity and carbon intensity. So, if you’re going to predict the future, you can’t just look at these factors independently. You actually have to look at them through an economic model and a social model, which accounts—however crudely—for their interactions. Then, our crystal ball only gets hazier. Such scenario building is what the IPCC—the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change—has to do. The emissions scenarios group who produced the Special Report on Emissions Scenarios called SRES8 has focused on this. Figure 1: Past and future CO2 Atmospheric Concentrations. Atmospheric CO2 concentration from year 1000 to year 2000 from ice core data and from direct atmospheric measurements over the past few decades. Projections of CO2 concentrations for the period 2000 to 2100 are based on the six illustrative SRES scenarios and IS92a (for comparison with the SAR). (IPCC, 2001: Figure 9-1a.)9 On the x-axis of this graph, we see the past thousand years. The present is the vertical bar labeled “Direct Measurements,” and to the right there’s a vertical zone labeled “Projections” for a hundred years into the future. For 1,000 years, carbon dioxide concentration was about 280 parts per million (ppm). The Industrial Revolution began, and the Victorian industrial revolution followed it, and that’s when CO2 started 9 to really take off. Then, we can see the upward trend in the twentieth century. There’s over 30% more CO2 in the atmosphere now than there was in pre-industrial times. This is not a speculation; this is very well-established scientifically. It is also not a speculation that we’re responsible for this buildup. There are masses of good data supporting this: We can count anthropogenic emissions by looking at the ratio of carbon-14 to carbon-12, for example. We notice carbon-14 decreases, and this is because fossil fuels have no carbon-14 (as they’ve been in the ground for tens of millions of years) but do emit carbon-12. It’s absolutely clear—as certain as one can be in atmospheric science; we know these numbers, and we know that we are responsible for the emissions. Now, let’s look at the future. What the SRES group did is to come up with six scenarios. In the most severe case, A1FI, CO2 triples by 2100, and for a high- technology variant of it, A1T, CO2 “only” doubles. Let me spend a short time defining what the scenarios are. I cannot explain each one in detail, as I have more important points to make, but I’ll give a quick summary with a few quotes from the report. The A1 story line is a very popular one. Nobody knows the precise future, and any one scenario strictly has a zero probability because it’s such a narrow line and there are so many possible outcomes. At any rate, the SRES group presents storylines that have scenarios built into them, and they could—and I believe, should, though this is very controversial—have assigned probabilities to each storyline, but I’ll discuss that later. The A1 storyline and scenarios describe a future world of very rapid economic growth, with global population peaking in the mid century and declining thereafter. It assumes the rapid introduction of new and more efficient technologies. Major underlying themes are convergence between regions, capacity-building, increased cultural and social interactions, and substantial reduction in regional differences and per capita income, but still a globalized world that mobilizes capital to where it’s cheap and does not protect domestic industries just because they exist. Nor does it have any climate prevention policy. The Emission Scenarios of the Special Report on Emission Scenarios (SRES) A1: The A1 storyline and scenario family describes a future world of very rapid economic growth, global population that peaks in mid-century and declines thereafter, and the rapid introduction of new and more efficient technologies. Major underlying themes are convergence between regions, capacity building, and increased cultural and social interactions, with a substantial reduction in regional differences in per capita income. The A1 scenario family develops into three groups that describe alternative directions of technological change in the energy system. The three A1 groups are distinguished by their technological emphasis: fossil intensive (A1FI), non-fossil energy sources (A1T), or a balance across all sources (A1B) (where balance is defined as not relying too heavily on one particular energy source, on the assumption that similar improvement rates apply to all energy supply and end use technologies).8 The A1 scenario family develops into three groups that describe alternative directions of technological change, and this is critical for climate. The first one is a fossil-fuel- intensive scenario, that’s A1FI for fossil intensive. Then, there is A1T, a major world effort at high-technology and non-fossil energy sources, and this is not necessarily out of concern for abating climate change. This is a storyline about people who don’t like air pollution that causes health problems, and therefore, they switch to more efficient technologies, but not primarily for climate’s sake, although of course, one could argue it could be. And then there’s A1B, a “balance,” which is an average of the two previous scenarios. It doesn’t rely too heavily on one source (fossil fuels) or the other 10 (high technology). This is considered by many people to be the most likely scenario, but again, it isn’t certain. (Remember the old joke: If you play too much with a crystal ball, soon you’ll be eating glass!) Then, there’s the A2 storyline, which tells of a heterogeneous world that is self- reliant, concerned with preserving localized entities, and so forth. This tends to lead to emissions that are higher than all other scenarios except for the A1FI case. I won’t spend time on it, other than to offer a personal opinion that a scenario (A2) that starts out slowly and then accelerates (unlike A1FI which starts out fast and then slows down in conjunction with learning about lesser emitting technologies) is the least likely to unfold. A2: The A2 storyline and scenario family describes a very heterogeneous world. The underlying theme is self-reliance and preservation of local identities. Fertility patterns across regions converge very slowly, which results in continuously increasing population. Economic development is primarily regionally oriented, and per capita economic growth and technological change are more fragmented and slower than in other storylines.8 Let me spend a moment on the B1 story line: B1: The B1 storyline and scenario family describes a convergent world with the same global population (which peaks in mid-century and declines thereafter) as in the A1 storyline but with rapid change in economic structures toward a service and information economy, with reductions in material intensity and the introduction of clean and resource-efficient technologies. The emphasis is on global solutions to economic, social, and environmental sustainability, including improved equity but without additional climate initiatives.8 This storyline and scenario family is one of a converging world with the same global population as A1, peaking in mid-century and declining thereafter, but with rapid change in economic structures towards service and information economies, so the energy intensity goes way down. Reductions in material intensity occur, meaning that the B1 world finds efficient ways of producing economic output with less material, less energy, cleaner resources, and more efficient technologies. And in practice, it goes beyond that. This is a very egalitarian scenario, and it makes the assumption that there will be global solutions to economic, social, and environmental sustainability issues and improved equity everywhere. So B1 is a rich, happy, sustainable world, whereas the A1FI is a rich, more hierarchical and polluting world. Neither, however, have an explicit climate policy. Then there’s B2. B2: The B2 storyline and scenario family describes a world in which the emphasis is on local solutions to economic, social, and environmental sustainability. It is a world with continuously increasing global population (at a rate lower than in A2), intermediate levels of economic development, and less rapid and more diverse technological change than in the B1 and A1 storylines. Although the scenario is also oriented toward environmental protection and social equity, it focuses on local and regional levels.8 The quote overleaf describes the most important point: subjective probabilities versus “equally sound,” and I’m continuously on the front lines of this battle. Subjective Probabilities versus “Equally Sound” An illustrative scenario was chosen for each of the six scenario groups A1B, A1FI, A1T, A2, B1, and B2. Some IPCC authors consider the scenarios “equally sound”, which offers no guidance on which storylines are more or less likely. A subjective probability assessment of the likelihood of the sets of scenarios would offer policymakers a useful characterization of which scenarios may entail “dangerous” outcomes. 11 The SRES scenarios do not include additional climate initiatives, which means that no scenarios are included that explicitly assume implementation of the United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (i.e., policies to prevent “dangerous anthropogenic interference with the climate system”) or the emission targets of the Kyoto Protocol or any next generation emissions mitigation agreements. 8 For example, at an IPCC meeting in Marrakech, some IPCC authors, in fact almost all of those who produced the SRES, defended language in the IPCC to the effect that each of the six scenarios we just discussed (A1B, A1FI, AIT, A2, B1, and B2) were “equally sound.” That’s the phrase that was used. Basically, the IPCC has offered no guidance on which storylines are more or less likely. If you are a politician, and you are an honest politician, which is not always an oxymoron, you would likely ask: “How do I rate the importance of the global warming problem versus housing versus security versus nature reserves versus health research versus clean water?” You need to have some idea not just about what the consequences of global warming could be, but what the odds are of different scenarios actually occurring. What are the probabilities of these events happening? I think it is ridiculous for the IPCC to consider an egalitarian scenario to be as likely as a globalized storyline where greed and wealth dominate. In fact, in every speech I give, I ask the audience who believes that “egalitarian sharing (B1) is more probable than business as usual/personal gain (A1FI).” Not surprisingly, for the thousands of hands I have seen up in the air on this informal decision analytic elicitation, no more than a half dozen have ever ranked the B1 scenario as more probable in their opinions than the A1FI. I am very confident that a proper decision analysis on this would reveal the same cynical belief system from most—in this world, greed trumps equity, to phrase it in a stark dichotomy. Perhaps IPCC members do not want to admit that the scenario they don’t like as much personally is probably more likely to occur than the one they do like. Also, assigning probabilities to hypothetical outcomes is never objective. But, if scientists don’t take on this job, then it will be up to the world’s politicians to guess about what they think the experts think are the likelihoods of these various scenarios. Without probabilities attached, how can decision-makers assess their risk and create policy initiatives? I keep confronting my anti-probability colleagues, who continue to say, “You can’t decide it! It’s the future, and it’s a social future and unknowable,” with the following dilemma: “Then why aren’t we all working on preventing the next 10 kilometer asteroid from colliding with the Earth?” This is an unimaginable catastrophe, which has happened several times in the past 600 million years causing massive death and extinctions. The reason it is not our prime concern is that we already know the odds: about one in 100 million per year. So, when you have odds like that as opposed to climate change, which I think carries at least a one in two probability of nasty events taking place, you have a completely different situation. Odds matter, and the scientific community, in my opinion, is ducking its responsibility when it refuses to take on this job just because it’s: a) not objective, and b) divisive. I don’t see how we can be really helpful to politicians and other policy-makers who are trying to weigh priorities in a risk-management framework without trying to assign odds—even if those odds have low confidences attached. Next, I have included a graphical look at the scenarios (see Figure 2, overleaf), in which the IPCC produced a whole family of curves based on the scenarios. The top left graph shows CO2 emissions, and we can see the lines for the fossil intensive world (A1FI), the B1 world, the A1 advanced technology world, and so on. This also shows production of methane, nitrous oxide, and aerosols. Aerosols are important because most are primarily cooling agents, even though newer measurements suggest 12 that black carbon—soot—from diesel engines and other applications—particularly in India—could have a more complicated effect, at least on regional climates. Given some level of emissions, a model is needed to translate those into concentrations; generally, a biogeochemical model is used for this (see the concentration graphs in the right-hand column of Figure 2). We have to figure out concentrations for every type of emission, and then we have to use a climate model to translate the various concentrations into temperature changes. After that, we can use agricultural, forestry, and ecological models to translate temperature changes into impacts, and then use an economic model to determine the costs of those impacts versus the costs of mitigation or adaptation responses to the climate change. This is what I was talking about when I referred to our very hazy crystal ball, which is a combination of multiple sub-system models given the impressive-sounding name of “integrated assessment modeling.” Figure 2: A1F1, A1T and A1B Emission Scenarios. The different socio-economic assumptions underlying the SRES scenarios result in different levels of future emissions of greenhouse gases and aerosols. These emissions in turn change the concentration of these gases and aerosols in the atmosphere, leading to changed radiative forcing of the climate system. Radiative forcing due to the SRES scenarios results in projected increases in temperature and sea level, which in turn will cause impacts. The SRES scenarios do not include additional climate initiatives and no probabilities of occurrence are assigned. Impacts in turn can affect socio-economic development paths through, for example, adaptation and mitigation. The 13 highlighted boxes along the top of the figure illustrate how the various aspects relate to the integrated assessment framework for considering climate change. (IPCC, 2001: Figure 3-1.)9 Figure 3: Past and Future Variations of the Earth’s Surface Temperature. Variations of the Earth’s surface temperature: years 1000 to 2100. Departures in temperature from the 1990 value in ˚C. Over the period 1000 to 1860, observations are shown of variations in average surface temperature of the Northern Hemisphere (corresponding data from the Southern Hemisphere not available) reconstructed from proxy data (tree rings, corals, ice cores, and historical records). The line shows the 50-year average, and the grey region around the line in the proxy data area shows the 95% confidence limit in the annual data. From the years 1860 to 2000, observations are shown of variations of global and annual averaged surface temperature from the instrumental record. The line shows the decadal average. (Considerable uncertainty accompanies the precise shape of the variations before 1900, but the large warming at the end of the 20th Century above previous levels for many centuries is robust in nearly all studies.) Over the period 2000 to 2100, projections are shown of globally averaged surface temperature for the six illustrative SRES scenarios and IS92a as estimated by a model with average climate sensitivity. The grey region marked “several models all SRES envelope” shows the range of results from the full range of 35 SRES scenarios in addition to those from a range of models with different climate sensitivities. (IPCC 2001: Figure 9-1b.)9 When will climate impacts become “dangerous”? In Figure 3 above, we can see the temperature of the last 1,000 years in the Northern Hemisphere. Each individual year has a gray band of uncertainty around it, so the numbers aren’t exact (and the details are still debated), but when we average over time, we get a very, very slight cooling trend from 1000 A.D. to the mid- to late-1800s. Then, after 1850, there’s a noticeable rise in temperature. The latter is another very well established fact, even if the shape of the curve before the industrial revolution is more uncertain. When people tell you global warming is speculative, they simply don’t know what they’re talking about—or worse, they’re spreading disinformation. The surface of the Earth has warmed up about 0.7 degrees Celsius plus or minus 0.2 since 1860 or so. It’s in line with many environmental phenomena we’ve been seeing, including the widespread melting of mountain and some continental glaciers, rises in sea level from thermal expansion, and now, a very consistent signal of plant and animal migrations in response to the warming. Whether or not the Earth is warming is not the debate any more within the knowledgeable climatological community. The debate is: what fraction of that warming is natural and what fraction of that warming is attributable to us? The IPCC thinks that at least half of it can be attributed to us. But, here’s the key: The right side 14 of this graph represents the future. When we get to 2100, we have a very, very large fan of uncertainty. The very “best” scenario, the B1, is at the bottom, and the very “worst” scenario, the A1FI, is at the top. The vertical bars to the far right show the possible temperature ranges associated with each scenario, as calculated by the IPCC using half a dozen different climate models. Notice the bar for the A1FI scenario? It’s very wide and the tallest. So, each SRES scenario accounts for uncertainties in human behavioral characteristics, but each temperature range bar is the joint probability of the fan of uncertainty from the scenario itself combined with the fan of uncertainty from the climate science—represented by the height of each individual bar. For a long time, it’s been asserted that temperatures would increase between 1.5 and 4.5 degrees Celsius (ºC) for a doubling of CO2. I’ll discuss in a minute why that’s much too restrictive. The gray area at the year 2100 on our graphs gives a range of about 1.5 to 6ºC warming above 1990 levels. That’s the difference between significant change at the lower end of the range and, I would argue, utterly catastrophic change at the high end of the range. But what are the probabilities of the less severe or more catastrophic possibilities both shown in this figure? The IPCC didn’t say, so the political or economic world has to guess what they are, my longstanding complaint.10 Let’s return to the issue of climate sensitivities. In Figure 4 overleaf,11 M1 is the climate sensitivity of model number one; M2 corresponds to model number two, and so on. The height of the bars in the last graph we viewed in Figure 3 basically showed some of the differences in ranges between the six IPCC models and gave what I call on Figure 4 a “well-calibrated” range, the top line on the graphic above—well- calibrated since it takes into account the sensitivity values of several different models. However, every climate scientist realizes there are physical, biological and chemical components left out of all models. Therefore, if we do a decision-analytic survey, and ask climate experts their opinions on how much the global mean temperature would rise if CO2 doubled, as was done by Granger Morgan and David Keith,12 we’ll get a wider range than we would by just running the models, as represented by the middle line of the figure, the “judged” range of uncertainty. However, cognitive psychologists have suggested that people’s estimations are generally over-confident, so the actual range of outcomes is probably even larger than that of the expert survey. I put “full” in quotes on the figure because we can’t say that we’ve explored the full range of possibilities when some of the outcomes aren’t yet even imaginable. This graphic is just a heuristic to remind us that what we calculate is unlikely to contain a full assessment of uncertainties for still very complex issues like the sensitivity of the climate to doubling of CO2. Figure 4: Ranges of Uncertainty. Schematic depiction of the relationship between “well-calibrated” scenarios, the wider range of “judged” uncertainty that might be elicited through decision analytic survey techniques, and the “full” range of uncertainty, which is drawn wider to represent overconfidence in human judgments. M1 to M4 represent scenarios produced by four models (e.g., globally averaged temperature increases from an equilibrium response to doubled CO2 concentrations). This lies within a “full” range of uncertainty that is not fully identified, much less directly 15 quantified by existing theoretical or empirical evidence. (From Schneider & Kuntz-Duriseti, 2002, based on Jones, 2000.)13 Scientists have tried to estimate climate sensitivity by doing probability density functions. Figure 5 is a graph from a group at MIT. As I said, the canonical wisdom has been that the temperature will rise between about 1.5 and 4.5ºC if CO2 doubles. Notice that some of the MIT group’s temperature change numbers are well outside this range. I don’t have time to explain their method, but the results are similar to many other such studies. Figure 5: Climate Sensitivity PDFs. Climate sensitivity probability density functions. (From Forest et al., 2002.)14 Figure 6 overleaf shows another climate sensitivity estimate—from Andronova and Schlesinger.15 They looked at various forcings, and by forcings I mean the number of Watts per square meter that are imposed on the Earth by CO2, methane, aerosols, etc. There’s a lot of uncertainty in these estimates, so Andronova and Schlesinger used data from the entire spectrum of literature on forcings, and then they tuned their models to get the best fit between the observed surface temperature change and the amount of forcing occurring. 16 Figure 6: Probability Density Function and Cumulative Density Function. Probability density function (A) and cumulative density function (C). (From Andronova and Schlesinger, 2001.)15 They produced this probability density function for T2x which is the sensitivity of the climate to a doubling of CO2. The lower graph in this figure shows the cumulative density function (CDF), which I like better because it allows you to easily see percentiles. On the CDF, one can easily read the 10th, 50th, and 90th percentile lines. The 10th percentile line says that there’s a 10% chance that if CO2 doubled, the temperature would eventually warm up about 1.1ºC or less. The 50th percentile line shows there’s about a 50% chance that the average global temperature would warm up 2ºC or less. So far, it’s not so bad, although many think two more degrees would trigger some nasty irreversible effects, including a melting of the Greenland Ice Sheet and bleaching of most coral reefs. Now, let’s look at the 90th percentile. That’s about 6.8ºC of warming, which means there’s a 10% chance that it could be 6.8 or more degrees warmer! 6.8 degrees is about the difference between an ice age and an inter- glacial period, an absolutely catastrophic magnitude of change, in my opinion, particularly if it happened in a century or so given that ice age to interglacial transitions have averaged about 5,000 years to fully complete. Now, let’s put it all together as simply as possible, by looking at the 10th, 50th, and 90th percentile cases for climate sensitivity and two SRES scenarios—the fossil intensive and high technology variants of the rich, but globalized world A1. Let’s start with A1T: 17 Figure 7: Three Temperature Projections for the A1T Scenario. Three temperature projections using three climate sensitivities for the A1T scenario. (From Schneider, 2003.)16,17 On Figure 7 above, I drew a horizontal line at 3.5ºC warming for two reasons. First, 3.5oC was the highest estimate of warming given in the IPCC Second Assessment Report in 1995—well below the 5.8oC maximum value established in the Third Assessment Report in 2001.9 Second, the IPCC Working Group II said that “dangerous” climate change, whatever that means, is much more likely because of nonlinearities in the ecological and economic system, and that these were more likely after “a few degrees” Celsius warming. Nobody knows exactly what “a few degrees” means, so I was conservative and put it at 3.5ºC (although I believe considerable risks are associated with warming well below 3.5oC too—see Schneider and Mastrandrea, 2005.18 So, the solid shaded area on the graph is a very conservative estimate of the “high danger zone.” Now, look at the lowest line (10th percentile). If we’re lucky, the 10th percentile climate sensitivity case will happen. This puts the temperature increase at 1.1ºC for CO2 doubling and about a 1.5oC warming in 2100. We’ve warmed up a little more than 0.7ºC so far, so we’d go up another 0.75 to 1.0ºC. Now, if we get the median (50th percentile) case (the middle line), then we end up warming up another 2-2.5ºC, which is a non-trivial change but is below my very conservative 3½ degree “highly dangerous” line. But if we’re unlucky and the 90th percentile case turns out to be true (the top line), then the increase in warming will be very large. Notice for the A1T scenario that all three lines have mostly stabilized by 2100. This is because in the A1 technology scenario (A1T), it’s assumed that we’ve invented (or invested) our way out of the fossil fuel emissions era by the end of the century. What about A1FI? 18 Figure 8: Three Temperature Projections for the A1FI Scenario. Three temperature projections using three climate sensitivities for the A1FI scenario. (From Schneider, 2003.)16,17 None of the A1FI lines stabilize by 2100; even the lowest temperature change scenario (the 10th percentile) is still growing. It still has a positive slope in 2100. The median line is already into “highly dangerous” territory before the end of the century and still growing, and the 90th percentile possibility—I don’t even want to think about that. So, when we’re talking about risk management, you have to ask: What’s the joint probability of the A1FI scenario combined with the 90th percentile temperature case? I don’t know what it is, but it’s at least in the second decimal point of probability (>1%) and maybe the first (>10%). What rational person or society would take that kind of risk with our life support system? Let’s apply this to a different scenario, a night out to a nice restaurant. If there’s a 10% chance that there is salmonella bacteria in your salmon, are you going to eat it? These are the kinds of questions we must remind people of when they say, “Well, we’re not scientifically sure; let’s not deal with this now until we know more.” When people ask me, “You can’t seriously advocate slowing down the main stay of an industrial civilization—burning fossil fuels—for only a ten percent chance of truly catastrophic outcomes?” I ask them about salmonella. A ten percent chance is an order of magnitude higher than risks for which we spend fortunes on insurance premiums: fire, earthquake, theft, health, etc. We make such decisions without any hope of knowing precise probabilities in our case, and instead choose to hedge in order to reduce our risks. So why is protecting the climate different? Why should environmental scientists be required to provide a 90% objective probability of severe harm when in most other human endeavors with big risks we hedge on a hunch? This is hypocrisy—and it is common. When are we going to resolve these uncertainties? Figures 7 and 8 which I included for climate sensitivity actually represent increased uncertainty as more research has been done. Those results showing greater variation in temperature change have only come out in the last six years, so the 1.5 to 4.5ºC range that has been confidently used by the scientific community for the last 25 years can’t be used so confidently any more since 50% of the values calculated by models now fall outside that range. Part of the reason climate sensitivity is so tough to model is because of the influence of cooling aerosols, which make it difficult to know exactly how sensitive the Earth has been to GHG forcing based on any empirical test. How long will it take to substantially narrow the climate sensitivity range? In my view, decades, though my 19 personal view is that the outliers, below 1oC or above 5oC, can be seen as pretty unlikely. But, I can’t rule out a 5% chance (subjective, of course) of each occurring. Think about salmonella before you think 5% is a minor risk for something as monumentally dangerous as more than 5oC global warming in a century! Observed changes. We have some clear signs of global warming. Figure 9 (overleaf) shows the decrease in ice area on Mt. Kilimanjaro. The Snows of Kilimanjaro was a good story—but if it were just Kilimanjaro that was being affected, that would have little influence on the world at large. It would, of course, represent a significant impact on the people who depend on the streams flowing from Kilimanjaro or the tourists who come to climb and see the wonder. The neighbors don’t want to have floods during the melting season, nor do they want to be left without any water thereafter. It can also force birds and other creatures to relocate to new habitats—if they can find any. From the perspective of a global cost/benefit analysis, the economic product associated with this locally catastrophic possibility would be hardly noticed. But does that justify ignoring it? This is a deeply normative (ethical), not economic, issue. Figure 10 (overleaf) shows the distribution of the Baltimore oriole, with the current distribution marked on the left U.S. map. Baltimore is within the range of the oriole, of course, until global warming takes its toll. Al Gore was very interested in the second map on the right, produced by Jeff Price,19 which shows the possible future range of the Baltimore oriole based on its physiology, using a CO2 doubling scenario. Remember, CO2 doubling is the best scenario in SRES. Everything else projects more CO2 than that, and considering there may be no more Baltimore orioles in Baltimore for a “mere” doubling of CO2, this may serve as a good hint about future impacts. 20 Figure 9: Map of the Retreat of Mt. Kilimanjaro’s Ice Cap Since 1912. This map by Ohio State University researcher, Lonnie Thompson,20 shows the retreat of Mt. Kilimanjaro’s ice cap since 1912. During this period, more than 80 percent of the mountain’s glaciers were lost. All ice will probably be lost on the mountaintop within 15 years. Figure 10: Comparison of Current US Distribution of the Baltimore Oriole and Possible Future Distribution with a Doubling of CO2. Current Baltimore Oriole Distribution Projected Distribution with a Doubling of CO2 The current distribution of the Baltimore oriole could change significantly with a doubling of CO2, especially if considered in concert with already well-established stresses such as habitat conversion, pollution, and invasive species. (From Price & Root, 2002.)19 The policy question is: Who cares? How much is it worth to have Baltimore orioles in the city of their namesake? In other words, how do you value nature? Does nature have intrinsic value because it’s there, because we’ve had 2 billion years of the co- evolution of climate and life that brought us the distribution of species we now have? Does one species have the right to want to double its numbers and quadruple its income as fast as possible—even if it’s at the expense of the very existence of half of the other species? Do we really have to wait two generations before we have cheaper 21 and more benign technologies and organizations to prevent this? To me, this is not primarily an economic question of crop yield changes or ecosystem services. This is an ethics question about what we value—including judgments about what changes are “acceptable” and which are “dangerous.”16,21 Should policies be implemented in the face of such great uncertainties? Space doesn’t permit me to argue very deeply that cost-benefit methods do not work well for the climate policy problem because of the inherent uncertainties in every factor from scenarios to climate sensitivity to estimates of climatic damage and adaptive capacity. In that context no single “optimum” policy is remotely meaningful. All you can do responsibly is produce an “optimum” probability distribution based on probabilistic inputs, as no single optimum policy is meaningful given the uncertainties. And it is even more difficult than that to produce a meaningful optimal policy. Cost benefit analyses aggregate over many regions and sectors in a common numeraire or metric— usually dollars. How does one weigh such diverse metrics as market system losses, species driven to extinction, human lives lost or inequitable distribution of impacts?22,23 To aggregate these involves normative judgments of the relative importance of each category. Clearly there is no calculus that can do that—it is a political value judgment that must be negotiated across stakeholders and nations. The proper role of economic analysis is not to attempt to perform some complex cost/benefit analysis to determine “optimal” levels of mitigation effort—that is a chimera. Rather, once a political decision to cap emissions at some level or to tax emissions at another level is made, then economic methods are essential to cost- effectively try to achieve those caps set by ethical, not primarily by economic, judgments. This problem of framing the policy question as mitigation driven by mostly normative criteria but crafting solutions built on economic cost-effectiveness assessments plagues all international meetings trying to find fair and cost-effective compromise solutions to the climate policy problem. Now, let’s address the question of mitigation costs. Figure 11 is an IPCC graph.9 This figure is very interesting—please do not take the model dependent numbers given literally, but do take the framework seriously. The bars show cumulative carbon emissions from 1990-2100. If 754 gigatons of carbon are emitted from 1990-2100, we end up with a CO2 concentration of 450 parts per million (ppm), which is about 50% more than it was in pre-industrial times. The next bar shows doubling of pre-industrial levels, the next one 2 1/3 times, and at the right edge we’re getting closer to tripling CO2. So, what this shows is what the mitigation cost could be if you rely only on economic models. In this graph, the IPCC assumes a carbon tax is levied and that it induces conservation and alternative technologies. The tax also reduces GDP, so the IPCC calculates what the loss in GDP would be; then, elsewhere in the report, they weigh that against whatever the perceived benefit is of preventing climate change. The mitigation costs’ present value over the 21st century could be as high as about $18 trillion, and the current world GDP is something like $40 trillion. In any case, you’ll hear the U.S. administration and many in industry say: “This is just outrageously expensive. This problem may not even happen. We could easily fall within the not very risky zone, well under the shaded area in Figures 7 and 8. Why should we spend half of the world’s GDP to solve a potentially minor problem?” Of course, what they forget is, this cost represents the present value of spending that would be done over the next 100 years. So now, these very same models that tell you it’s going to cost $10 to $20 trillion to solve the climate change problem project about a 2% per year growth rate in the economy. So, at 2% per year, that’s a GDP-doubling time of about 35 22 years. So, by the end of the century, you’d have about three doublings. That means the global economy will generate something like $320 trillion in 2100 (8 times 40). So, what is $20 trillion relative to $320 trillion? How many years of economic growth would it take to catch up with the no-climate policy case? It would take under a decade and probably only a year or two. Figure 11: Cost to Stabilize CO2 Concentrations. The mitigation costs (1990 US$, present value discounted at 5% per year for the period 1990 to 2100) of stabilizing CO2 concentrations at 450 to 750 ppmv are calculated using three global models, based on different model-dependent baselines. Avoided impacts of climate change are not included. The bars show cumulative future emissions until carbon budget ceiling is reached are reported above the bars in Gt C. (IPCC, 2001: Figure 7-3.)9 Christian Azar and I23 thought about this GDP issue very carefully. We plotted out four scenarios: business-as-usual, stabilizing CO2 at present value (already a 30% increase over pre-industrial concentrations), half a doubling, and a full doubling. Figure 12 shows the associated GDP projections. We did it by assuming that we had a $200/ton, $300/ton, and $400/ton carbon tax on the full doubling, half a doubling, and stabilizing at present scenarios, respectively (and no tax on business-as-usual). “It’s unimaginable to have hundreds of dollars per ton in carbon taxes!” I can hear two-thirds of the members of Congress and most fossil- fuel producing or consuming businesses cry. This would be politically impossible in any country in the world now, but if you actually plot this out, what you find is because of the assumed growth rate in the economy, you end up 500% richer per capita (versus 1990) in 2102 instead of 2100, even if we were to spend tens of trillions of dollars to solve the global warming problem over the next 100 years. So, all the “astronomical costs” rhetoric in the political debate is not accurate. The costs are actually fairly trivial when considered in the context of a world that is expected to be 5 times richer per capita by 2100. Consumption goes up much faster than mitigation costs is what conventional economic models say. 23 Figure 12: Comparing the Cost of Stabilisation. Global income trajectories under Business as Usual and in the case of stabilising the atmosphere at 350 ppm, 450 and 550 ppm. Observe that we have assumed rather pessimistic estimates of the cost of atmospheric stabilisation (average costs to the economy assumed here are $200/tC for 550 ppm target, $300/tC for 450 ppm and $400/tC for 350 ppm) and that the environmental benefits (in terms of climate change and reduction of local air pollution) of meeting various stabilization targets have not been included. (From Azar & Schneider, 2002.)24 In the summer of 2005, George W. Bush went to the Gleneagles economic summit and declared that had the US signed the Kyoto Protocol it would have been devastating to the economy. He said this, despite the fact that most economic models suggested that Kyoto with trading would only be equivalent to a hundred or so dollars a ton of carbon “shadow price,” and would delay by only a few months achieving a 25% increase in personal income a decade or so from now. The ultimate irony is that although Bush claimed that outrageous costs were a justification for the US pulling out of Kyoto which would cripple the economy, the gasoline price increases that we have seen in the US—a $1.50 increase, on average—would require a carbon tax on the order of a $250 per ton of carbon, and a $1.50 increase, while not trivial, does not seem to have crippled our economy at all. Indeed, this major increase in gasoline price primarily resulted in windfall profits for the oil industry, but was hardly noticeable in the expansion performance of the economy. One wonders how such wildly inaccurate statements are allowed to go unchallenged in the press or political arena. The climate debate needs to be reframed away from absolute costs—or benefits—into relative delay times to achieve specific caps or to avoid crossing any agreed specific “dangerous” climate change thresholds. Seen this way, the uncertainties hardly matter—it is so “cheap” to fix the problem relative to economic growth projections, that there’s no excuse for risking dangerous, irreversible, and destabilizing climate impacts (except for protecting the near-term interests that currently profit from the old ways of dumping in the atmosphere as if it were an unpriced sewer). The latter is not free market economics, but a subsidy to those doing external damages to nature and society—it is well established that no free market works when the prices don’t reflect all the real costs. It takes policies and measures to enforce the need to bring such external costs inside the cost-benefit calculus of those doing the emitting. Let me turn to a related issue: Type 1 versus Type 2 errors. Those of you who study economics are aware of this. A given forecast could be wrong, and it might be costly to hedge against the outcome it predicts. Therefore, given the uncertainties, let’s not risk wasting our current resources on some uncertain worry. Moreover, those who predict a problem that doesn’t end up being very serious fear being blamed for wasting society’s resources. They fear making the “Type 1 error.” 24 Table 1: Type 1 Versus Type 2 Errors and Their Consequences. Decision Forecast proves false Forecast proves true Accept forecast—policy response follows Type 1 error Correct decision Reject or ignore forecast—no policy response Correct decision Type 2 Error Those who fear committing Type 2 errors might say, on the other hand, “Let’s accept the forecast that there’s a 50% chance of substantial damage from climate change. We’ll respond by investing in alternative energy systems, transitioning away from emitting industries, investing in adaptation measures and redistributing resources.” If the forecast proves false, as the Wall Street Journal editors insist it will, then we would have committed a Type 1 error because we made an unnecessary investment hedging on an uncertain outcome that didn’t occur. But what if the forecast proves true? Then we made the correct decision because our anticipatory investments lessened our suffering when climate change actually occurred, as predicted. We then avoided the Type 2 error. Suppose a decision-maker says, “There’s just too much uncertainty and political opposition surrounding the climate change issue, so let’s reject or ignore the forecast and not formulate a policy response.” If dangerous climate change does not occur or does not inflict major damages, then we were right, or maybe just lucky. We got away with it. Smart move. But what happens if the forecast proves true (or even was too optimistic) when we bet on it being wrong? Then we’d suffer a Type 2 error. Many sociologists and political scientists have studied this. They have found that whereas scientists are typically more worried about making Type 1 errors, policymakers are usually more concerned about committing Type 2 errors and often prefer to hedge against potentially damaging events rather than do nothing and later suffer the consequences. Think of the concept of auto insurance: People pay for auto insurance, usually in the hopes they’ll never have to use it, but if they ever do get in an accident, they’re covered. Some governments tend to work in the same way, though not in all aspects of decision making. The Bush administration has provided examples of hedging strategies in the face of uncertain forecasts, the most obvious being the war with Iraq. The war was sold as a precautionary attack on Iraq to make sure it did not have and was not building weapons of mass destruction. Bush did not want to risk having a rogue nation turn into a threatening power, endangering world security, or so it was claimed. Bush seems to have feared making Type 2 errors much more than Type 1 errors when it comes to some putative evidence of dangerous weapons in the hands of “rogue” nations than when it comes to avoiding the potential damages from dangerous climate change. In contrast to the extreme precaution invoked by the Bush Administration and the military actions taken to pre-empt putative risks, the U.S. has not endorsed mandatory climate change policy; it opted out of the Kyoto Protocol in March 2001 and has since only enacted weak voluntary domestic emissions standards and small technology development investments. Like some economists and others who do not see climate change as a serious problem, ostensibly because of large uncertainties, which they say makes policy-making premature—no precautionary principle is invoked here. Moreover, the Bush Administration focuses primarily on the costs of mitigation of GHGs and the harm it would do to the economy in terms of goods traded in markets, looking only at the aspects that can easily be quantified in monetary terms. I do give him credit for being one of the few leaders who has actually 25 admitted that he opposes strict climate policy because he believes it will hurt favored industries or certain key sectors of the economy (e.g., coal producers and inefficient vehicle—SUV—manufacturers). His lack of concern for the distributional or biodiversity risks is not camouflaged. His administration just thinks it can get away with that value system politically—and, so far, their gamble to ignore the public’s concern about the environment has paid off. How much longer that strategy will work remains to be seen, particularly in the wake of the loss of New Orleans to Hurricane Katrina. Markets are only part of the story. But, what Bush fails to acknowledge is that goods traded in markets are not the only entities that people and nations consider valuable—there are many non-market amenities as well. When considering the effects of global warming, I have argued in various papers and presentations, that one must look at what I call the “five numeraires” to understand the full range of consequences the world will experience due to our action or inaction on climate change. They are: market impacts, human lives lost, biodiversity loss, distributional impacts, and quality of life losses per ton of carbon (C) emitted. Whereas it’s relatively easy to put a dollar value on a market impact—like increased or decreased crop yields—how do you quantify the loss of a heritage site due to rising sea levels or the extinction of various species due to habitat loss and climate change? I would argue that deciding against climate change policy for the sole numeraire of protecting favored domestic industry (part of the “market impacts” numeraire) will end up being much more costly than considering all five numeraires and implementing climate change policies accordingly. Table 2: Five Numeraires for Judging the Significance of Climate Change Impacts. Vulnerability to climate change Numeraire Market impact $ per ton C emitted Human lives lost Persons per ton C Biodiversity loss Species per ton C Distributional impacts Income redistribution per ton C Quality of life Loss of heritage sites; forced migration; disturbed cultural amenities; etc., per ton C Note: Multiple metrics for the valuation of climatic impacts are suggested. Typically in economic cost-benefit calculations, only the first numeraire—market sector elements—is included. Different individuals, cultures, and governments might have very different weights on these five—or other—numeraires, and thus it is suggested that analysis of climatic impacts be first disaggregated into such dimensions and that any re-aggregation provide a traceable account of the aggregation process so that decision makers can apply their own valuations to various components of analysis. (From Schneider, Kuntz-Duriseti, & Azar 2000.)23 In summary, experts should answer three questions for citizens: 1) What can happen? 2) What are the odds? and 3) How do we know? Citizens and/or policymakers should in turn take that information and use it to make value judgments on how to take risks and decide who pays for what. Policymakers, typically influenced by stakeholder interests, must also ensure that scientific assessments and consequent policy decisions are not biased by industry or environmental influences alone but rather consider a wide range of interests and opinions. Even in most optimistic scenarios, CO2 will stabilize at a much higher concentration than it has reached today, and temperature will rise accordingly.24 It will take even longer for sea level rise from thermal expansion and the melting of polar ice to occur, but what is most problematic is that how we handle our emissions now and in the next 26 five decades preconditions the sustainability of the next millennium, as large ice sheet melting or species driven to extinction are effectively irreversible losses, even if they take centuries to fully play out. That is an awesome responsibility for the next few generations to bear, and to face it with denial and favoritism to limited interests and selective analysis that ignores all factors other than what is measurable in market transactions, discounted at high rates that favor benefits in the near term to risks of unsustainability in the long term, will not leave a proud legacy for such a generation of decision-makers. A genuine dialog for examining risks based on sound science, multiple metrics, and a broad array of interests, not just elliptical pronouncements from narrow interests and political ideologists who misrepresent the mainstream science and economics of climate change, is long overdue. We owe the people, plants and animals of the future nothing less than an honest and open debate, in which the long-term interests are not discounted away by the convenient calculus of high return on investment and aggregation of all impacted factors into monetary metrics that afford vastly disproportionate weight to those holding the reins of wealth. Climate change, in the view of this observer, is simply much more of an ethics issue than an economics problem. REFERENCES 1. Funtowicz, S.O. & Ravetz, J.R. (1993) Three types of risk assessment and the emergence of post-normal science, in Krimsky, S. & Golden, D. eds. Social Theories of Risk. Greenwood, Westport, CT: 251-273. 2. Kuhn, T. (1962) The Structure of Scientific Revolutions. University of Chicago Press, Chicago. 3. United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change (1992) United Nations Framework Convention on Climate Change: Convention Text. UNFCCC, Bonn. Available at: http://unfccc.int/essential_background/convention/background/items/2853.php 4. Goulder, L.H. & Schneider, S.H. (1999) Induced technological change and the attractiveness of CO2 abatement policies. Resource and Energy Economics 21: 211-252. 5. Kaya, Y. (1990) Impact of carbon dioxide emission control on GNP growth: Interpretation of proposed scenarios. Paper presented to the IPCC Energy and Industry Subgroup, Response Strategies Working Group, Paris, (mimeo). 6. Yang, C. & Schneider, S.H. (1998) Global carbon dioxide emissions scenarios: Sensitivity to social and technological factors in three regions. Mitigation and Adaptation Strategies for Global Change 2: 373-404. 7. Ehrlich, P.R. & Holdren, J.P. (1971) Impact of population growth. Science 171: 1212-1217. 8. IPCC (2000) Emissions Scenario: A Special Report of Working Group III of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Nakicenovic, N. & Swart, R. eds. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK. 9. IPCC (2001) Synthesis Report 2001—Contribution of Working Groups I, II, and III to the Third Assessment Report of the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change. Watson, R.T. & the Core Writing Team eds. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, UK. 10. Schneider, S.H. (2001) What is “dangerous” climate change? Nature 411: 17-19. 11. Schneider, S.H. & Kuntz-Duriseti, K. (2002) Uncertainty and climate change policy, Chapter 2 in Schneider, S.H., Rosencranz, A. & Niles, J.O. eds. Climate Change Policy: A Survey. Island Press, Washington D.C.: 53-88. 12. Morgan, M.G. & Keith, D.W. (1995) Subjective judgments by climate experts. Environmental Science and Technology 29: A468-A476. 13. Jones, R.N. (2000) Managing uncertainties in climate change projections: Issues for impact assessment. Climatic Change 45(3-4): 403–419. 14. Forest, C.E., Stone, P.H., Sokolov, A.P., Allen, M.R. & Webster, M.D. (2002) Quantifying uncertainties in climate system properties with the use of recent climate observations. Science 295(5552): 113-117. 15. Andronova, N.G. & Schlesinger, M.E. (2001) Objective estimation of the probability density function for climate sensitivity. Journal of Geophysical Research 106: 22605-22612. 16. Schneider, S.H. (2003) Abrupt non-linear climate change, irreversibility and surprise, in Estimating the Benefits of Climate Policies, Washington, D.C.: OECD. Available online at: http://www.oecd.org/dataoecd/7/14/2483223.pdf 17. Schneider, S.H. & Lane, J. (2006) An overview of dangerous climate change, in Schellnhuber, H. J., Cramer, W., Nakicenovic, N., Wigley, T. and Yohe, G eds. Avoiding Dangerous Climate Change. Cambridge University Press, Cambridge, U.K. 27 18. Schneider, S.H. & Mastrandrea, M.D. (2005) Probabilistic assessment of “dangerous” climate change and emissions pathways. Proceedings of the National Academy of Sciences 102: 15728-15735. 19. Price, J.T. & Root, T.L (2002) No Orioles in Baltimore? Climate change and neotropical migrants. Bird Conservation 17: 12. 20. Thompson, L. Map of total area of ice on Kilimanjaro (1912, 1953, 1976, 1989, 2000). Published online at: http://researchnews.osu.edu/archive/kilicoresmap.htm. 21. Lane, J., Sagar, A. & Schneider, S. (2005) Equity in climate change. Tiempo 55: 9-14. 22. Schneider, S. H. & Lane, J. (2006) Dangers and thresholds in climate change and the implications for justice, in Adger, N. ed. Politics, Science, and Law in Justice Debates. MIT Press, Cambridge, MA. 23. Schneider, S.H., Kuntz-Duriseti, K., & Azar, C. (2000) Costing non-linearities, surprises and irreversible events. Pacific and Asian Journal of Energy 10(1): 81-106. 24. Azar, C. & Schneider, S.H. (2002) Are the economic costs of stabilizing the atmosphere prohibitive? Ecological Economics 42: 73-80. 
work_rsxujydg25gcfm4ltbphzfjh4a	----	TWO ANATOMIES by C. E. KELLETT IF we examine the title-page ofthe Fabrica we see that it differs in a remarkable manner from those adorning earlier textbooks of anatomy. In these the Anato- mist is set apart, reading aloud from a textbook he holds in his hand, while at a proper distance a Demonstrator is shown displaying, under the instruction of an Ostensor, those parts he refers to.' To the select and small impassive audience, the anonymous body and the well-known book are the important things in a ritual which is familiar to many of those there. In Paris' the audience consisted of Members and students of the Faculty and barely numbered more than a dozen. In a large school, such as Bologna, this was limited as a rule to twenty, who must each have completed two years of study. Here, however, and elsewhere in Italy, these rules seem at the begning of the Renance to have been relaxed. Two hundred or more attended the course of twentyfive lectures on the Anatomy of Mondino given by Curtius, and twenty-six demonstrations given by Vesalius., If Curtius was wont at times with a bewildering and rather ostentatious display ofquotations to demonstrate how Mondino had failed to follow Galen, and so erred, Vesalius would on occasion demonstrate how both had been mistaken. In the earlier textbooks the dissection scene is depicted as taking place within a house, but in some of those published in France it is also shown as occurring in a walled garden, and, indeed in Paris there are records of them being performed in one or the other. Both the lecture and demonstration took place simultaneously and the one supplemented the other. Both were concerned with man's place in the scheme of things, rather than with the intimate details of his structure. The public anatomy, on the other hand, had become an enter- tainment, in which at times the one seemed to contradict the other and lecturer and demonstrator quarrelled openly; an entertainment for which a special temporary amphitheatre was built with a portico of a church for background. It is almost inevitable that such an anatomy, written under such circumstances, should dwell perhaps unduly on detail, tending to stress the mistakes Galen had made, and significant that it should have been written, not by the lecturer, but by the demonstrator. My chief concern, however, is not so much with Vesalius, or Mondino who preceded him, as with another anatomy published two years later in Paris at the height of the French Renaissance," Estienne's Dc Dissectione. Here at Fontainebleau especially, a characteristic school of painting and design had been evolved. The native gothic tendency had imparted to the Italian Mannerist painters, Rosso and Primaticcio, working there a certain elegance and wayward grace; a particular set of proportions and way of posing their models, which even now we may feel is typically French. 342 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core Two Anatomies Elegance and style are, like good manners, lesser virtues, but not to be despised. In a textbook ofanatomy they are conspicuous by their absence. Only now and then, as in the plates designed by Casserius or Albinus, do we find a trace of that elegance, that good taste we have a right to expect in the Dc Dissectione, the most costly book to leave the printing press of S. de Colines, Estienne's stepfather and one of the greatest printers of his time. One's first reaction to the book is entirely favourable. The type is beautiful and the book handles well. It is only as we turn over the pages that we become aware of something ams, and so gradually, I believe, learn of the accidents that befell the making of this book and, in so doing, about the anatomnies of that time. These skeletons are very gothic. In the background of some of the more remarkable are distant cities and rivers, recalling those of Italy as seen through the nostalgic eyes of Breughel and Del Abbate. Italy has not, however, tamed them. They have none ofthe playfulness oftheir Berengarian forerunners nor of the resignation ofthe Vesalian series. They are too gross, too akin to the figures in the Danse Macabre, to that of Death himself. With the exception of two plates, so dumsy they seem to belong to a different age, dated 1530, they are amongst the first in a book which was strangely long in the making. Possibly that is why they too, especially when coloured, as in the great vellum copy, seem to belong to a medieval rather than a renaissance text. The musde men are perhaps a little better. They at any rate are elegant and have a flavour all their own. Here it may be is that particular quality we might expect. They seem petulant and a little resentfil as they display the muscles of their abdominal wall, whereas their Berengarian forerunners are gay and unaffected. Such a change in attitude is, however, in keeping with the changing fashions and ifwe are disconcerted it is surely because ofthe way each dissection has been shown for no very obvious reason on a block apparently let into the original figures. At times this is clumsily done, and as in the Berengarian figures the dissection is confined to the abdominal muscles and stops before it is really begun, whereas in Vesalius it is carried out to the bitter end. In these famous figures we look in vain for that suggestion of wit we discern in Cowper or for the charm with which the Casserian figures indulge in so memorable a strip- tease. These are, however, minor points, for, after all, the individual muscles are dealt with at the end of the book, which is, as the title-page suggests, parti- cularly concerned with dissections. These are carried out first on men and then on women. Here then the book must stand or fall and here one is surely aware ofsomething very amiss. The Vesalian figures have, in their diversity, a certain over-all unity, as have those of Eustachius, Casserius, Albinus and Cowper, but here, as in Berengario, they are subdivided into groups of varying size. One of the largest and most striking consists of studies of young men, obviously dead, who are shown hooked to trees or propped up against ruined shrines. They are more suited to a study for a picture of Saint Sebastian than an anatomy, yet where the parts to be shown are sufficiendy large and the inset is neatly done, they serve their purpose admirably. Where, on the other hand, the parts to be 343 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core C. E. Kellett shown are small, as in the neck, the results are so deplorable as to suggest that this can never have been the purpose for which they were first intended. They are followed by a series of figures that seem to have been taken at random from a sketchbook and have been adapted with results that are often unfortunate. The majority of the young women form yet another little group. They seem unsuited for their purpose and, like their Berengarian forerunners, might well have been taken from a set of pictures. In these young women again the dissections are shown on an inset let into the original figure. And so certain questions begin to take shape. Why did this work, begun in 1530, take so long in the making? And why is the part played by Estienne and Riviere so carefully stated on the title-page, when the acknowledgement from Estienne in the Foreword might so well have sufficed? Why were the great hand-coloured volumes, printed on vellum, never presented to the King and why do they contain no dedication leaf? How may we account on the one hand for so lavish a display ofplates and on the other for the unsuitability ofso many for the purpose for which they are employed? How can we explain their ugliness and occasional beauty and changing mood; their frequent correction by means of large insets? Now such insertions are commonly used to correct a fault, or, on occasions, to adapt a block for another purpose, but are met with in no other anatomy. I argued, therefore, that Estienne had found a collection of blocks in his step- father's warehouse that he had in this way adapted for use in his book. Had this other book been published, there was one young woman it should have been easy to trace, for she was no longer a girl, had none of the clumsy grace we associate with Botticelli. She was a little mannered but not so sophisticated as were her contemporaries in Paris. She was Italian, rather than French, and Raphael, having seen Michelangelo's work, or one of his school, might have drawn her. I could determine her age to within a few years, but, even then, could not find her. No printed book contained her picture and we must assume that the book for which she was first designed had never reached completion. But, if wood blocks were borrowed and copied, so too were the pictures on them. Berengario we have already seen is thought to have taken several of his female figures from pictures in his collection. It seemed then likely that she too had been taken from a picture which might still exist or which long ago had been destroyed. But sketches of her had survived, there are two in the Uffizi, and in the end I found her and her companions in a set of engravings of the Loves ofthe Gods, for which Rosso had done two drawings and Perino del Vaga the remaining eighteen.5 Their discovery, however, raised a further problem, for many had already, in copying, been modified as if for an anatomy and varying degrees of violence had been done to their persons to suit them for the same purpose; this is why so many are so ugly. How can we account for this unless we assume that they were first modified for one anatomy and then re-adapted for a second by means of the insets; unless we suppose that Estienne and Riviere had fashioned theirs makeshift on the fragments of an anatomy planned by Rosso but never completed. Such a supposition might have seemed far-fetched, were it not known that Rosso had actually planned to publish an 344 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core Two Anatomies anatomy. Vasari, moreover, tells us that when Rosso was staying with Bishop Tomabuone after his escape from Rome, 'he disinterred dead bodies from the burial ground ofthe Episcopal Palace in which he had his abode and made very fine anatomical studies'. No one, of course, can practice anatomy in this way, nor indeed is it likely that the Bishop had countenanced such a procedure, unless it were to enable Rosso to complete a picture on a devout subject, such as a Deposition from the Cross, or a Saint Sebastian. For this there was indeed ample precedent; Michelangelo had enjoyed the same privilege when he was fashioning a crucifix for the Prior of the Church ofSan Spirito in Florence. The remarkable illustrations which are the core of this book could scarcely have been created in any other way. Furthermore, Rosso came to the court of France on the recommendation of Aretino; he was in Venice at the same time as Charles Estienne, who was attached to the household of the French Ambassador, de Baif, who was respon- sible for the arrangements with Rosso.6 They may even then have thought of adapting Rosso's drawings, including the St. Sebastian series, for an illustrated edition of the only anatomical text readily available, that of Mondino, and then, for certain preparations, obtained the aid of Estienne de la Riviere. This young man was several years older than Pare, who had in I 532 obtained an appointment as House Surgeon at the Hotel Dieu. They may well have met there for he soon became one of Pare's closest friends and at the H6tel-Dieu there was, as Pare7 himself pointed out at a later date, ample opportunity of familiarizing oneself with anatomy. Provided one had access to the hospital, or was friendly with the Chief Executioner and his staff, there was in Paris no difficulty in obtaining a body for dissection. Pare secured one for his personal use, which he kept in his house,8 and Riviere, I believe, one which he subjected to a process of selective macera- tion, the results of which are shown in the remarkable series of plates picturing not merely the skeleton but also the skeleton with its joints and muscle attach- ments, and finally the skeleton clad in a tangled web, fashioned from its own nervous system, which is the last to go in such a process, or so we are assured. In this, the running water which cleaned the body as it disintegrated and the small creatures it contained which fed on it, seem to have played an essential part. The whole process is completed within a short time. Immersion in stagnant water, on the other hand, is followed by very gradual change and, if Casper9 be our guide, one that is horrible beyond belief Even so, the artist who drew the central nervous system specimen seems to have been appalled at what he saw and the difficulties involved in its depiction and reproduction. This was, however, the method Mondino had advocated and he had suggested that dried bodies be used when it was intended to demonstrate the musculature. This was presumably how Pare's own preparation was preserved and, many years later, Fragonard's cavalier. At the H6tel-Dieu approximately two thousand people were buried each year in the common grave.10 Each was sewn up in half a blanket, there being no coffins. It should not have been difficult for Riviere to obtain one such body and suspend it in a perforated cask in the Seine that washed the very walls of 345 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core C. E. Kellett the hospital and far easier than it would have been to have attempted the more fashionable and formidable dissection as depicted in the Fabrica. So far as the skeleton was concerned, the end result was much the same as were the final steps. The Vesalian preparations are a little more elegant than that which bears Riviere's initials but the method of mounting is essentially the same, and if either young man deserves the credit for its invention it is, as Par6 implies, Riviere, rather than Vesalius. The nerve man, the joint and muscle insertion man, represent, I take it, two stages on the way towards the preparation of a skeleton by this method, which is described very briefly by Estienne but at greater length by Vesalius.12 He tells us that when the body was taken out of its cask it was cleaned all over with knives but carefully so that none of the connections of the bones was destroyed, that the ligaments by which the bones are connected were preserved, and finally that everything except the joints of the bones glistened. The cleansed cadaver was then exposed to the sun so that the ligaments dried by the heat of the sun might hold the joints of the bones in that position it was desired that it be seen, posed sitting or standing. This stage is admirably depicted in the joint and muscle insertion man. The final stage in both methods involved disjointing the preparation, placing the smaller bones in little bags so that they would not get lost, boiling them to get them clean and wiring them together while they were soft, the skeleton being held erect by means of a bar of iron threaded through the vertebral canal. It is, however, far easier to take a body to pieces, muscle by muscle, rather than so to build it up again. Albinus was perhaps the first'3 who attempted so to do. Estienne was content to show the skeleton, the version showing the ligaments of the joints and muscle insertions and alongside them two diagram- matic figures, the outlines of which are mirror images of two figures we encounter towards the end of the section, but which in no way resemble the skeletons. Outlines such as these are easily obtained by means of tracings, but Durer gives in detail certain other methods which enable one to obtain an accurate outline of an object. Albinus used a complicated system of nets and, by Cowper's time, the camera obscura was in general use. Taking such an outline and putting in the muscles would seem to have been a favourite exercise with certain anatomists and with Cowper an obsession. In the Hunterian Collection in Glasgow there is sheet after sheet of these rather sinister powerful figures. In the Sloane Collection there is a book full of his earlier drawings of plants-they are quite a different thing-it is astonishing how skilled he became in this particular exercise. So that one wonders whether or not Vesalius himself might have had a hand in the muscle figures that play so prominent a role in the Fabrica. In these pictures of Estienne the muscles are shown in so diagrammatic a fashion that one feels that they have probably been copied from other figures that were then in common use and this would seem to be certainly true for the vascular figure. This is one of the most remarkable in the book. It has been frequently reproduced and only recently was used for an advertisement for a hypotensive drug. It is, therefore, I suppose, one of Estienne's most successful inventions-and yet it bears little or no relation to reality 346 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core AA Lendroitauqucllermndi2in japparoiftdouble qui efta la //S; <IiIba(c,ou teflc du cucur: vers la fuprficiexterieure dice!uy, j rportit aubrichcrCarquadId- Cedi6 mcdiallin arriuc ala tw niue dL cucur,alors if perd la &iCn& figure. B L enu-clopc ou tunique du cu, ___ taoche u er h o octedinnceluye o t o f , C La plufgrldc partic & portion - -- \'9j f i dcs lobcs ot pieces du pour- anaom dpce a t l . Themon,quilestrouuent umcoisrh atl shown o a s inset. D L'irmplantation d utie pctice x-<: (-lt z ;,, j't,!. portion du ncrtrcctjrrcnt.a |IIll gnic. -1tquelle viennenrt rjen 1'1i7z req nerft;:Prod Li&Zd dlalP--1q):tr lz- t imlic cailgait'Dn duco|1' Figure i. A sketch of a dissection made by Estienne Rivi'ere. This has been copied on to the upper half of a block which has been inserted into one of the original figures, quite obscuring the original anatomy depicted and distorting the left arm. The sternum is rather neatly shown on a separate inset.available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core Figure 2. The Clibanits-Zodiac Man. An accturate and detailed interpretation of the anatomy of man, the microcosm as described by Mondino correlated with one aspect of his relation to the macrocosm. available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core Two Anatomies as seen in man but, as Singer1' pointed out, is a composite figure resembling somewhat changes encountered in the ungulates and in cats. Nevertheless it fits rather neatly into yet another mirror image, which this time has been slightly altered. This diagram too must have been common property and presumably one of those Du Fail16 states he saw Sylvius make use ofin his lectures. They tell us more about the state of medical teaching in 1532 than do the majority of the illustrations, which I suggest were drawn by Rosso and based on Mondino. These have been altered beyond all recognition for the final version, and such a suggestion might have been little more than a wild surmise had it not been for the happy survival of three of the original plates. These, together with all the other wood blocks, were purchased many years later and published as they were, without Estienne's text, by Kerver. This book was obviously very popular and was published again in 1575. As the Introduction implies, it was designed for the ordinary person who had no knowledge of Latin or of anatomy, but was curious as to the way his body was fashioned. In this book the three illustrations which Estienne had discarded for obvious reasons were calculated to be of particular interest to the lay reader. One, dated 1533, illustrates the relation of the parts ofthe human body to the twelve signs ofthe zodiac, and the other two their relation to the seven planets. Now the zodiac figure appears in the early editions of the compendium, which included Mondino's anatomy but, so far as I can discern, was never part of that anatomy but belonged to quite a different and earlier section. Nevertheless Mondino himself makes a brief refer- ence to man as a microcosm and his relation to the macrocosm, a relationship which, a few years later, was so brilliantly developed by Ficinus, the founder of the Florentine school of Neoplatonism. Here are relationships which went far beyond those of the zodiac man, so tinged with judicial astrology; here we have a glimpse of a far wider anatomy, which we encounter for a moment in Harvey's De Motu Cordis and again in the Religio Medici of Sir Thomas Browne. In these three plates are symmetries of which the body knows little; devices of which it is ignorant but hinted at in Mondino. Here is made manifest the anatomy Mondino described: Thus thou seest that the stomach hath heart above, being separated therefrom by the dia- phragm, and mesentery and intestines below; to the right it hath liver, by the five lobes of which it is clasped as by a hand with five fingers, to the left it hath spleen, by the arteries of which it is warmed; in front it hath zirbus; behind it hath the muscles of the back and the vena magna and arteria magna which pass along the spine as thou wilt later see. Thus the place of the stomach is in the centre, being as a storehouse of food common to all.... Here too we see the heart. It is not too large nor too small, yet is greater in man than in any other animal of the same bigness since he hath more heat. Third the shape will be evident to thee, for it is of the form of a pine or pyra..d.... We come now to the shape of the lung, which is that of a clibamss. A clibanus is, Singer tells us, a Greek word in common Latin used to describe a flask-shaped vessel for baking bread. A similar term was used by the alchemists.16 These two lungs might well be mistaken for some sort of flask used by alchemists for distillation. Certainly they do not look like an ordinary lung or 347 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core C. E. Kellett those portrayed in the insets. One wonders why Mondino should ever have thought that a lung resembled a clibanus or for that matter a 'country oven' which is perhaps the original meaning of the word. We find that he has made a mistake, however, which serves to confirm our suggestion that this original picture was based on an edition of Mondino's works, for so far as I am aware this is a mistake no other anatomist has made, this term being normally applied to the chest or thorax as a whole.1 Ifwe compare this illustration with the con- temporary illustration in Lotrian and Janot's edition, we are aware of an im- portant change. Janot's illustration is no more than a very crude diagram ofan idea far simpler than that elaborated in the text, but this illustration is designed to illumine the text, as indeed were most of the illustrations of that time, to go step by step with it, making clear what was written. This is the function of the majority of the diagrams we encounter in a modem textbook of physiology. These three plates lead us to believe that this would have been a lovely anatomy: a final flowering of the medieval concept of man. You may well, therefore, ask why Estienne should have failed to publish it as it stood and in the end have destroyed it. He was, however, a young man who had his way to make. His father had provided for his two elder brothers, but he remained dependent on his stepfather, Colines, who now ran the family business. The very cost of the paper involved, which was more than half that of the total, was sufficient to prevent such a book being published in the ordinary way unless there was reason to believe that it would command a ready sale, as a result of being recommended for some particular course in the University. Not in- frequently the author might come to some arrangement with a publisher in which they shared the risks and the profits, or else the whole venture was made possible as a result of patronage, but Estienne seems to have been both author and publisher and, so far as we know, had no patron to assist him. Furthermore, in this instance Lotrian and Janot's version was protected by the King's Privilege. If this secured the monopoly for three years at the very least, it meant that Estienne would not be able to publish his until I535. Under normal circumstances this would not have mattered greatly. Mondino's text had been in existence for two hundred years; but circumstances were not normal in Paris at that time; the whole structure of the University was being overhauled. Tagault, who had become Dean ofthe Medical Faculty, was responsible for the medical training of the Surgeons and Barber Surgeons (and this included their training in Anatomy) as well as for the instruction of the Apothecaries. Colines' own press had within these few years published a series of translations by Andernach, one ofTagault's proteg6es, which had made Mondino appear hope- lessly out of date. It was Vesalius' great fortune to come to Paris as a student at such a time and Estienne's misfortune. In 1536 Colines published a textbook designed for the use of students, written by Andernach, who had recently taken his M.D. and been appointed lecturer. Vesalius had been one of his assistants and Estienne had probably seen it through his stepfather's press. During these years, moreover, he had begun to publish books on his own account. They were designed for the education of the young and were an immense success. He had also been responsible that year for 348 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core Two Anatomies the illustrated edition ofhis friend de Baif's monographs on The Ships ofthe Romans, their Dress and their Vessels. These illustrations were designed to supplement these three monographs and were taken in the main from Trajan's column and added considerably to the value of the book. Estienne was even allowed to insert a special note to the reader, in which he warns him that, though they are a faithful copy of the originals, it does not follow that they in turn faithfully depict that which they represent, since the artists who carved them may have erred. He seems to have felt, therefore, that he had become an authority on illustration and was apparently capable of putting together a popular text on almost any subject. It seems as if both he and his friend, Riviere, who was still actively engaged in anatomical dissection, felt that there was still room for an up-to-date illustrated anatomy. Indeed the time would come when they would quarrel and both would claim that the idea and the book was theirs. This up-to-date approach to the subject was a result of a book Charles Estienne had himself seen through his stepfather's press; for on his return from Italy it seems that he resumed his work with Colines and was put in charge of his important series of medical and scientific publications. This book, Winter of Andernach's translation of Galen's Anatomical Procedures, broke entirely new ground. Mondino's procedure is that which we associate with autopsy. But in this book emphasis is laid on the parts Mondino neglects and the autopsy ignores, those concerned 'with the muscles, nerves, arteries, and veins-not just those around the heart or any of the internal organs but those evident in legs, arms and outer parts ofthe chest, by the spine, breast, ribs, shoulder-blades, abdomen, neck or head'. Just indeed the parts one cannot get at without disfiguring and cutting to pieces the subject, something one cannot do at an autopsy. 'One must, moreover, begin', wrote Galen, 'with the skeleton, for, as poles are to tents and walls to houses, so are bones to living creatures, for other features naturally take form from them.' This is the text that Vesalius revised ten years later for the edition of the works of Galen in 1541. The text that, as Singer puts it, 'started him on his triumphant career'.18 Long before that, however, it had revolutionized the teaching of anatomy in Paris. Estienne had, therefore, to rearrange his material, the abdominal cavity is no longer the first to be con- sidered; the Berengarian figures are moved, together with the whole of their section, to the second book; the whole of the first book, which occupies I50 pages, being almost exactly as long as the second, is now devoted to the poles and the tents, the bones and the tissues-muscles, nerves and vessels-covering them. Though the first book is written around the figures we have already mentioned, the connection between the two is not so evident as it is in the second book. It may be it owes as much to Estienne's reading as it does to Riviere's preparations. As we read through the second book, however, we become aware of a far closer relationship. Each chapter has begun to assume the character of a little essay written around the illustration of a particular dissection. These are often very crude. They seem to have been done on the spot and remind us of the little sketches and diagrams Vesalius is said to have drawn in the course of a dissection to illustrate a point. They remind us too that, in the course of his lectures and demonstrations, Sylvius is said to have 349 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core C. E. Kellett made use of figures and diagrams, and in this respect, as possibly in others, Vesalius does not appear to have been the innovator some would have us believe. Indeed, by the time we have reached the middle of this book, we begin to realize that we are witnessing a remarkable change. In the first anatomy the illustrations were, as we have seen, a gloss on the text, but in this the text has now become a gloss on the illustrations which have taken the first place. Indeed, if we take the insets alone and enlarge them to a convenient size, we are left with a set of illustrations some of which, such as those of the portal system, are far in advance of their time. It is, however, apparent that those of the neck and face have been virtually ruined as a result of reducing them and trying to fit them to the original blocks. Rivire may have been a poor draughtsman, but it is strange that he should have tolerated this. It seems likely, however, that he was being kept in the dark for, in 1539 when most of the book was in print and would soon have been published, a court order was issued which brought everything to a stop. This was at Rivikre's request. He maintained that Estienne was attempting to steal a book on anatomy that he had given him with a view to its translation into Latin." Estienne at that time was not even qualified, though it may be he had been attending certain courses. During the next two years the case was tried in the civil courts and finally the Court of Appeal appointed a commission to settle the matter. This was to consist of two physi- cians and two surgeons, who were to be appointed by their respective Faculties. Both were to study the book and were to report in writing to two counsellors of the court, who were in turn to be present when Estienne and Rivi&e-were examined by them. Ultimately they were able to effect a compromise, which is reflected in the careful wording of the title and in the Introduction to the reader, in which Estienne explains how he had gone to great lengths to secure the skilled services ofRivi&e, who had been responsible for the vanous prepara- tions and for the pictures of the dissections. In another section of the book he dwells on the value of illustrations, pointing out that if the written word satisfies the mind and the memory, it canjust as well be maintained that pictures satisfy the eye with the representation of the absent thing. The written word takes the place of the spoken word, so too a picture of the thing seen, and that without the intervention of words. The one supplements and is additional to the other and that is why, he says, to avoid controversy he had so arranged things that the written word and the image depended the one on the other, memory and vision being satisfied alike. A good deal more could be said about Estienne's quarrel with Rivi6re and about the subsequent fate of these two young people and their book. It is already clear that in this one book we can discern a revolution in the way of looking at man and learning his anatomy, and that it was taking place during Vesalius' stay in Paris. To this revolution the Fabrica owes much, perhaps more than Vesalius would have us believe. It may well be he was not even aware of his debt. This paper is based on an occasional lecture on the Dc Dissectione, given to the University of Durham Dental Students on 8 May I958, and entitled 'Two Anatomies'. 350 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core Two Anatomies I am glad to have this opportunity of thanking them for having invited me to do so. As will be seen from the references, it owes much to the work ofother people and to the encouragement of the late Dr. Charles Singer. REFERENCES I. SINGER, CHARLES, The Fasciculo di Medicina, Venice, 1493; Florence, R. Lier & CO., 1925, Pt. I, pp. 31, 32. 2. O'MALLEY, C. D., The inception of anatomical studies in the University of Paris, Bull. Hist. Med., 1959, 33, 436-45. 3. ERIKSSON, R., Andreas Vesalius' First Public Anatomy at Bologna, z54o. An eye- witness report by Baldasar Heseklr, Uppsala, Almquist, 1959. 4. CUSHING, HARVEY, A Bi-bibliography ofAndreas Vesalius, New York, Schuman's, 1943, PP. 33-40. This suimmarizes certain problems presented by the book we are discussing. The two titles are given in full, written as follows: ESTIENNE, De dissectione. Latin. Paris, 1545. De dissectione partium corporis/humani libri tres, a Carolo Stephano, doctore Me/dico, editi. Vna cum figuris, & incisionum declarationibus, a Stephano Riuerio/Chirurgo copositis./[Simon de Colines' device]/Cum priuilegio./ Parisiis./Apud Simonem Colinaeum./1545. ESTIENNE, De dissectione. French. Paris, 1546. La dissection des parties du corps/humain diuisee en trois liures, faictz par Charles Estienne/docteur en Medecine: auec les figures & declarati6 des in- cisions, composees part Estienne de la Riviere Chirurgien./[Printer's device] /Imprime a Paris, chez Simon de Colines./1546./auec priuilege du Roy. From these two carefully worded titles, it would seem as if legends for the figures themselves had been composed by Rivi&e. On the other hand in the Introduction Estienne seems to imply that he was responsible, the actual wording being: 'We have described the single parts of the body as they lay before (our) eyes. But it is not verbal description alone but rather visual representation of (even) the minutest things which promotes such knowledge as will be of use to you in the future. In bringing this about, we have been aided principally by Rivi&e the surgeon, whose labour was most assiduously and frequently contributed both in drawing what was necessary, such as bones, ligaments, nerves, arteries, veins, muscles, etc., and in picturing the methods of dissection, in which subject he has had much experience. You will see these dissections, described by us in the lettering engraved within the pictures, throughout the book.' Kerver published reprints of these plates in I557 and 1575, the title being: 'Les/figvres et por-/traicts des parties dv/corps humaine./ [Printer's device]/A Paris/Par laques Keruer, rue S. Iaques, au deux cochetz./1557,' and, perhaps wisely, makes no reference anywhere to Estienne or Riviere, or to the source of the plates. 5. KELLETT, C. E., Perino del Vaga et les illustrations pour l'anatomie d'Estienne, Aesculape, 1955, 37, 74-89. 6. A note on Rosso and the illustrations to Charles Estienne's De dissectione, Ji.Hst. Med., I957, 12, 325-36. 35I available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core C. E. Kellett 7. MALGAIGNE, J.-F., Oewes Compites D'Ambroise Pare, 3 vols. Paris, I840. Vol. I: Introduction CCXXXII and CCCXII, where he quotes at length Pare's account of how with the help of Rostan de Binosc he prepared the second enlarged edition of the Anatomie Universelle of I56I. Whenever as a result of their past experience they differed on any point,' and this happened nearly every day, they sought afresh in a dead body what had caused this particular difference, et passim. 8. LE PAULMIER, Ambroise Parn, Paris, I887, P. 29. 9. CASPER, J. L., Handbook of Forensic Medicine, trans. by G. W. Balfour, New Syndenham Society, London, 4 vols., i86I-5, vol. II, pp. 261-5. IO. COYECQUE, E., L'H8tel-Dieu de Paris au Moyen Age (I3I6i552), 2 vols., Paris, I89I, vol. I, pp. I I2-20. Gives the following figures for the decade or so earlier: 1522 2,471, 1523 3,766, 1524 5,729, 1525 2,097. II. PARi ed. MALGAIGNE, loc. cit., vol. I, P. 3I7. 12. SAUNDERS,J. B. DE C. M. and O'MALLEY, C. D., The preparation of the human skeleton by Andreas Vesalius of Brussels, Bull. Hist. Med., I946, 20, 433-60. 13. BRISBANE,JOHN., The Anatomy of Painting, London, 1769. 'For it is to be lamented, that not only the common herd, but even some great anatomists, carried away by the irresistible torrent of custom, have often descended to too great minuteness; but what is tolerable, and sometimes useful and agreeable, in these first rate men, in a vulgar anatomist, who has minute- ness alone to recommend him, is in the highest degree tiresome and disgustful; as he is not capable to adorn his subject with any thing either useful or elegant. As to anatomical figures, tho' at present too much neglected, they were not only used by the ancients, and early introduced by the great restorers of modern anatomy, but are pursued and improved to this day, with great judgment and skill, by the most learned and elegant anatomists;' p. iv. This work contains a translation ofthe general preface ofAlbinus, containing the history of the work, in which Brisbane says he not only endeavoured to express the sense but also the graces of Albinus, pp. 5-21. 14. SINGER, CHARLES, and RABIN, C., A Prelude to Modern Science, published for The Wellcome Historical Medical Museum, Cambridge University Press, 1946, pp. xxii etpassim. 15. FAIL, NOEL DU, Les contes et discours d'Eutrapel, Rennes, 1597, P. I I4. 'I remember', he writes, 'listening to that fluent Latinist, Jacques Sylvius, reading Galen's De Usu Partium at the College of Tregierre in Paris before a marvellous audience of scholars of all nations. But when he came to the description of those parts we call shameful, there was no corner or place which he did not name in good French both by name and surname, adjusting the diagrams and figures accordingly for the more ample demonstration of his lesson, which had been altogether without taste nor flavour had he evaded the issue and done otherwise. I have seen him bring tucked up his sleeve, for all his life he lived without a servant, at one time the womb ofa goat or lamb, and all the pelvis, at another time the thigh or arm of a gallow-bird, to dissect and anatomize, that had so foul a smell, so powerful a stink that several of his auditors had readily vomited had they dared but the old scoundrel, with his hot Picard blood (be paillard avec sa teste de Picard) flew into such a temper, threaten- ing not to return for another eight days, that all resumed their former silence.' 352 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core Two Anatomies I6. SINGER, CHARLES, The Fascicido di Medcina, Venice, 1493; Florence, R. Lier & CO., 1925, Pt. I, pp. 68, 85, Io6. I 7. The usual meaning ofclibns appears to have been that of a little country oven, either ofiron, copper or earth, used for baking bread. Galen felt that bread so baked had certain valuable properties. So far as I am aware he did not apply the term clibamus to the thorax, though it is so used in one ofthe pseudo-Galenic works and apparently also with the meaning cuirasse (Migne). Berengario used it as a synonym for chest or thorax but few other anatomists seem to have used the term. See BERENGARIO DA CARPI, A Short Introduction to Anatomy, trans. by L. R. Lind, University of Chicago Press, 1959, P. 84. I8. SINGER, CHARLES, GalCn on Anatomical Procedures, translation with introduction and notes, Weicome Historical Medical Museum, Oxford University Press, 1956, pp. Xlii and 2. 19. QUESNAY, F., Histoire de l'origine et des progris de la chirurgie en France, Paris, 1749, pp. 228-9. 353 available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:10, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300029811 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_rzxkdt5kl5hrhhbqr44bzyjohq	----	Microsoft Word - Accounting and Ethics _erim WP_.doc ERIM REPORT SERIES RESEARCH IN MANAGEMENT ERIM Report Series reference number ERS-2005-065-ORG Publication November 2005 Number of pages 10 Persistent paper URL Email address corresponding author wdolfsma@rsm.nl Address Erasmus Research Institute of Management (ERIM) RSM Erasmus University / Erasmus School of Economics Erasmus Universiteit Rotterdam P.O.Box 1738 3000 DR Rotterdam, The Netherlands Phone: + 31 10 408 1182 Fax: + 31 10 408 9640 Email: info@erim.eur.nl Internet: www.erim.eur.nl Bibliographic data and classifications of all the ERIM reports are also available on the ERIM website: www.erim.eur.nl Accounting as Applied Ethics: Teaching a Discipline Wilfred Dolfsma ERASMUS RESEARCH INSTITUTE OF MANAGEMENT REPORT SERIES RESEARCH IN MANAGEMENT ABSTRACT AND KEYWORDS Abstract In this article it is argued that there are notable parallels between all of the different strands within ethics on the one hand, and accountancy on the other that, in teaching, can be drawn upon to enhance students’ understanding of the latter. Accountancy, part of economics, draws on utilitarian ethics, but not solely so. Accounting, in addition, draws on deontological and communitarian strands in ethics. The article suggests that the teaching of accounting – especially to non-economists – would benefit substantially from highlighting and developing these parallels. Free Keywords Accounting, Ethics, Teaching Accounting, Utilitarianism, Deontology, Communitarian Ethics Availability The ERIM Report Series is distributed through the following platforms: Academic Repository at Erasmus University (DEAR), DEAR ERIM Series Portal Social Science Research Network (SSRN), SSRN ERIM Series Webpage Research Papers in Economics (REPEC), REPEC ERIM Series Webpage Classifications The electronic versions of the papers in the ERIM report Series contain bibliographic metadata by the following classification systems: Library of Congress Classification, (LCC) LCC Webpage Journal of Economic Literature, (JEL), JEL Webpage ACM Computing Classification System CCS Webpage Inspec Classification scheme (ICS), ICS Webpage 1 Accounting as Applied Ethics: Teaching a Discipline Wilfred Dolfsma Erasmus University Rotterdam & Maastricht University; 2005/6 fellow Netherlands Institute for Advanced Studies Visiting research fellow University of Aberdeen Business School Correspondence: RSM Erasmus University PO Box 1738, NL-3000 DR Rotterdam The Netherlands Ph. +31-01-4081948 Fax +3-10-4089014 Email wdolfsma@rsm.nl Keywords: accounting, ethics, teaching accounting, utilitarianism, deontology, communitarian ethics. Abstract: In this article it is argued that there are notable parallels between all of the different strands within ethics on the one hand, and accountancy on the other that, in teaching, can be drawn upon to enhance students’ understanding of the latter. Accountancy, part of economics, draws on utilitarian ethics, but not solely so. Accounting, in addition, draws on deontological and communitarian strands in ethics. The article suggests that the teaching of accounting – especially to non-economists – would benefit substantially from highlighting and developing these parallels. 2 Accounting as Applied Ethics: Teaching a Discipline1 Often regarded with a degree of cynicism, accounting is sometimes perceived merely as a particular way of controlling processes in businesses, even of allowing for and facilitating exploitative relationships (Lovell 1995). In addition, accounting is claimed to have led to the emergence of ‘economic man’ (Bhimani 1994). The practice of accounting has itself done little to create a more favorable view of the discipline either - picturing it as a discipline not only where ethical considerations play no role, but may even be alien. People generally, however, seem to interpret their world in ethical terms, be it informed or uninformed by ethical theory. Note that this is not an argument in favor of moral intuitionism, such as proposed by G.E. Moore (1903). Rather, it points to how people’s everyday, implicit views of ethics affect their behavior, including in the classroom.2 Aristotle in his Nicomachean Ethics notes the etymological relation between ethics (or ήθος, “virtue of character” as he refers to it) and habit (έθος). As Peacock (2004) observes about Aristotle’s position: “Thus if we get into the habit of acting virtuously (by performing virtuous acts), we will acquire a virtuous character.” French renaissance philosopher, Michel de Montaigne (1991), concurs for one. The ethical understandings that people have tend to be rather implicit and are subject to development.3 When teaching accounting, therefore, particularly to students majoring in other disciplines, one is faced with the challenge of trying to present a perspective of the world that at first sight would seem alien to many people. It would seem that this is especially the case for students in the (liberal) arts and for those in engineering. Having been trained in accounting or economics, in many cases, professors who teach accounting tend to view the world differently. The willingness of economics students to cooperate is significantly lower than that of other students, for instance (Frank, Gilovich & Regan 1993). Whether this is due to self-selection or a consequence of the curriculum taught is unclear. What is clear is that the process of attaining a Ph.D. in economics is perceived as a difficult one in which especially one’s frame of mind and perspective on the world is changed (Klamer & Colander 1990). While in economics people are seen to be motivated by their (material) self-interests, non-economists are inclined to conceive of people’s behavior as driven also by social and ethical demands. As Rosenau (2004) argues, this does not mean that self-interest does not play a role, or will never play a dominant role. What it does mean is that a minority of people will always initially be inclined to pursue self-interest only (free-riding). When teaching accounting, I submit, presenting constitutive ideas and concepts of the discipline as ethical in nature will assist in teaching because the concepts may relate more directly to the audience’s frame of reference.4 Accounting is a discipline that is thoroughly ethical in nature (cf. Francis 1990), as is proposed below, and making this clear in class might further students’ understanding of accounting. There is no systematically collected evidence on which to base what is proposed in this paper, unfortunately. However, experience has indicated that there is merit to the suggestion of presenting accounting as applied ethics especially to students 1 The author would like to thank Christopher Houghton Budd and two anonymous referees for their helpful and stimulating comments and suggestions; the usual disclaimer holds, needless to say. 2 Cf. Klamer & Colander (1990). 3 There is a discussion of the possibility, the nature as well as the course of moral development (see for instance: Carr 1991, Crittenden 1990, and Kohlberg 1981, Rest 1986). 4 Cf. Geary & Sims (1994) on the choice of pedagogy to teach accounting. 3 who major in other disciplines. In addition, it might also legitimate accounting’s place in society to emphasize how accounting can be perceived as applied ethics. Section 1 briefly discusses the relation between economics and ethics, without intending a review of the literature (see Hausman & McPherson 1993).5 Ethics will only be discussed in rather broad strokes, enough to indicate the parallels with accounting, but not nearly enough to exhaust this topic. If the latter is one’s purpose, one would have to consult other sources (e.g., Beauchamp 1982). In a way, Section 1 of the paper can be seen as background for teaching accounting as if it were applied ethics. The latter is developed in Section 2. This article draws on the existing literature on the professional ethics of business students and accounting professionals.6 1. The Ethical Bases of Economics and Accounting The founder of economics, Adam Smith, during his life professor of Moral Philosophy at the University of Glasgow, considered an inquiry into the causes and nature of the wealth of nations impossible without relating such an inquiry to morality and moral sentiments. Indeed, long before he published his Wealth of Nations (1976 [1776]), he published The Theory of Moral Sentiments (1976 [1759]). To illustrate, while there is only one mentioning of the renowned ‘invisible hand’ in the former, there are two in the latter. One important distinction within ethics is between deontological and consequentialist perspectives. The first one stresses the rights that people have, and the necessity for people to respect other people’s rights. Doing good means respecting these rights and living by ethical rules whatever the consequences. The latter perceives of the good as that which maximizes the consequences for society. An example of a consequentialist ethics is utilitarianism, which holds that the well being for society as a whole needs to be maximized, even if that involves violating the rights of some. Indeed, the concept of right sits uncomfortably within a consequentialist ethics – a point developed later in this paper. Those versed in the history of economics have no difficulty recognizing one of the founding figures of the consequentialist perspectives as Bentham’s (1970 [1823]). He was explicit in stating that the good for individuals as well as for society is to pursue the options that result in the highest levels of well-being. Bentham uses the concept happiness (“utility”) in this regard, and believed that utility would, progress in science permitting, be ultimately measurable in terms of ‘utils’.7 In economics, the concept of utility is now an individualist and subjective one. As the cardinal view of utility, where it is held that utility can be measured in an objective way and thus the utility derived from a good can be compared to that derived from another good, also across individuals, is discarded and replaced by an ordinalist one where just rank-orders for a single person are believed to exist, the possibility of aggregating utility over groups of individuals is rendered impossible.8 Jevons’ theoretical work (1970 [1871]) does not so much stress the need for education and upbringing as his applied work (1981) does. The combined assumptions that Jevons introduced into economics, and which form its utilitarian basis – the measure of the good ‘utility’, and the criterion of maximization – were not 5 Arthur & Shaw (1991) compile an excellent selection of (excerpts from) original texts. 6 See Davis & Welton (1991), Denham (1991), Francis (1990), Gray, Bebbington & McPhail (1994), Lovell (1995), Ponemon (1992), Puxta, Sikka & Willmott (1994). 7 To see how the concept of utility was perceived of and modeled in economics since the early 20th century, see Lancaster (1998). 8 See Lancaster (1998) and Stigler (1968); for a discussion, see Dolfsma (2004). 4 considered by him to be present in all individuals (see Bowman 1997). In particular, women and the poor were lacking (White 1994). Therefore, individuals’ utility could not be the sacrosanct measure of the good as would be assumed in theory. In addition to emphasizing the value of education and family life, Jevons believed that the consumption of alcoholic beverages should not be allowed under any circumstances, no matter how much utility it would produce (Dolfsma & Mosselmans 1999). Even if they were rationally to maximize their utility, individuals should be stopped from behaving against what would almost amount to a deontological principle. In economics, therefore, doubts about the extent to which utility could be assumed a correct measure for well-being enters as well. As we will see later, however, unlike accounting, general economics does not allow for deontological considerations to play a role. Deontological ethics holds that real behavioral change requires rules, which need to be observed irrespective of the consequences of observing them. This perspective is generally ascribed to the 18th century German philosopher, Immanuel Kant. His ‘categorical imperative’ tells people to consider how they themselves would like to be treated, and thus to develop rules that any rational human would want to see supported universally. Support for such a rule is independent of the consequences that might ensue given particular circumstances. In exploring the parallels between economics and ethics, it is of interest to note that rules have acquired an increasingly important position in economics. The New Institutional Economics (NIE) develops the idea of ‘institutions’ that guide individuals’ behavior (e.g., North 1990). Institutions, however, are seen only to constrain people’s behavior. People rationally abide by them because thereby they will attain a higher level of well-being.9 In terms of the ethical discourse, NIE departs from act-utilitarianism, whereby each separate act needs to maximize the utility of the actor, but opts instead for rule-utilitarianism,10 whereby not every act needs to maximize utility, yet by adopting certain rules utility generally is maximized. Institutions do change in response to a changing environment, but do not do so in a smooth manner. Denzau & North (1994) conceive of this process as one of ‘punctuated equilibria’. However, deontological principles do not sit easily within economics. If economic research addresses principles or (moral) rights and makes a case for them, it tends to do so by drawing attention to their beneficial effects for society. Human rights, for instance, are sometimes defended with the use of economic arguments on the grounds that living up to these deontological principles means enhanced well-being for everybody involved (e.g., Conley & Livermore 1996). The Pareto criterion from welfare economics is thus upheld. Social contract theory can be considered a variant of rule utilitarianism. Typically, an original, Hobbesian position is posited, where people need to make a decision on how they want to structure society. The English political philosopher, Thomas Hobbes, was the first to undertake such an exercise. In his mind, without an almighty State, people in society would be like wolves towards one another. Knowing this, people appoint one of them (the Leviathan) to have dictatorial powers. In more recent times, Rawls (1971) has worked along such lines. He argues that, in a hypothetical original position where they do not know what the future holds for them, being under a ‘veil of ignorance’, people will just apply the maxi-min decision rule and based on considerations of self-interest decide to distribute primary goods equally. They choose two principles to structure society by. First, everybody is allowed the maximum amount of liberty compatible with an equal amount of liberty of others. Inequalities in the distribution of primary goods are allowed only if they benefit everyone and 9 See Hodgson (1993) for an overview of ‘old’ and ‘new’ institutional economics, and their differences. 5 particularly the least off. These principles are thus not sacrosanct. Utilitarian considerations may overrule especially the second. Rawls’s view has had tremendous impact in ethics, but is taken up in economics as well – see in particular the work of Donaldson & Dunfee (1995). In recent times, a third perspective has gained prominence, that of the communitarian perspective. Harking back to the early Greek philosopher, Aristotle (1980), the communitarian perspective argues that ethical considerations emerge from within a particular community and considers universal ethical imperatives as suspicious. Notable contributions in this area include Walzer (1983) and Van Staveren (2001). Whereas the positivist influence in economics is alien to a communitarian view (Mirowski 1989) because of its advocacy of relativist considerations, institutional economics (Hodgson 2001) is more empathetic on account of its explicit acknowledgment of historical, social or geographical specificity. 2. Ethics and Accounting In teaching accountancy, especially to students with little background in economics or business, arguing that it can be perceived of as applied ethics may be useful. A case can be made that accountancy indeed has ethical bases, much like economics generally, something that can be made use of in the classroom. Originally published in 1494 (but from 1509 in substantial numbers), the Italian, Luca Pacioli, was the first to bring out a book where the principles of double entry bookkeeping were explained. For many years after, double entry bookkeeping, which allowed for internal controls for consistency, was known as Italian bookkeeping. Would-be bookkeepers would travel to Italy to study these principles, as did painters to learn from the Italian painters of the Renaissance. Beyond the neo-classical view, where utilitarian considerations are the sole ethical considerations, the balance has always been more towards deontological principles and even a communitarian perspective in accounting. Indeed, one reason for starting to keep accounts was a moral one: to be able to know and keep track of which individuals and organizations were due how much (de Wal 1927). An act utilitarian approach to keeping accounts would not necessarily acknowledge that obligations between any two parties should be upheld even in circumstances where violating them would result in higher happiness for society. A rule utilitarian position would probably acknowledge such obligations. The principles of bookkeeping are more relevant in economies where transactions in money are frequent and occur in large numbers, of course. Even more, public reports about firms’ financial situations increase in their relevance when these firms are dependent on outside finance to continue their operation. This requires keeping track of who is due how much, and who owns what share in the firm. Keeping the books of such obligations could be construed as either minding the rights that different parties have towards others and thus resting on deontological considerations in ethics, or it could be construed as based on rule-utilitarianism. In this latter case, an ‘as if’ argument would be made saying that the rules of book keeping have nothing to do with rights and obligations, but have validity because they maximize society’s happiness (utility). This ‘as if’ argument would draw on Milton Friedman’s position about economic methodology (1953). 10 Compare Smart (1973) on act-utilitarianism and Brandt (1967) on rule-utilitarianism. Baumol & Quandt (1964) have presented a largely neglected argument for a rule-utilitarian position from a neo-classical point of view. 6 The Dutch colonial East India Company (VOC) – granted a monopoly by the State to trade with the East – was the first to regularly publish such reports. The struggle within this company between management and financiers is well-known. The latter argued that the capital invested gave them a right to determine the course of the company (de Boer 1957). The Dutch East India Company was the first firm where ownership and management were separated, leading to a struggle over control wherein moral arguments played an important role. In the 20th century, accounting came to be seen as distinct from bookkeeping. Bookkeeping was the practice or craft of keeping track of the financial aspects of businesses whereas accounting was considered to be more scientific. Accounting involves discussing the principles that underlie the way in which accounts for institutes can be kept. Distinctions between managerial and financial accounting developed. As mentioned earlier, in bookkeeping, the deontological aspects are clear. Indeed, there is a strong case to be made for understanding developments in the practice of accounting in terms of institutional economics, where the notion of boundaries between entities that might have moral overtones may not be violated is not an alien thought (Burns & Scapens 2000, Dolfsma & Dannreuther 2003). Not only is it important to keep track of who is due what, but the available budget is also divided into items that determine what the money may be used for. Spending such money in ways that are not in accordance with the purpose(s) for which the item was created is deemed a transgression that will be objected to in ways that suggest that items in a budget have moral characteristics.11 The communitarian nature of the practice of keeping accounts is evident from the way in which the standards that they need to abide by emerged.12 A standard such as the Generally Accepted Accounting Principles in the United States (US-GAAP) has over a long period of time developed into an explicit set of rules. Prior to the 1929 downturn on the New York Stock Exchange and the subsequent depression of the economy as a whole, such rules were not made explicit and certainly not enforced. The significance of this for the present discussion is that rules for proper conduct in reporting a firm’s financial position emerged from within the community itself. Thus, in an exchange between firms and the government, generally accepted accounting principles emerged on how to deal with the items in the balance sheet and income statement. Financial statements became more alike, and outsiders were in a better position to interpret them. It was hoped that sudden movements at the stock exchange – due to data provided by the companies that is difficult to understand and interpret – would then be less likely to occur, and would be less likely to have the damning effects that the 1929 events at the stock exchange had. The US-GAAP system is now increasingly used outside of the US as the economy becomes a more global one. Other international accounting standards are considered as well, however. As firms are dependent on stake- and share-holders from outside their home country, the need for more uniform accounting standards arises. The systems that now vie for prominence have different philosophical backgrounds, reflected in the ethical connotations that they have. To varying degrees, however, both show an influence from (a part of) the community itself in the exact formulation proposed and in the way in which the rules are enforced. 11 Developing the relation between accountancy standards and economic conditions more generally is beyond the scope of this short paper, given also its purpose. One pertinent contemporary issue is the extent to which economic globalization affects accountancy standards. The effects are likely to be mutual and intricate. 12 In accounting literature, the terms ‘anthroplogical’ or ‘inductive’ are used. 7 The International Accounting Standards Board (IASB; www.iasb.org.uk) and the Financial Accounting Standards Board (FASB; www.fasb.org) seem to be able to act independently, suggesting accounting rules similar to deontological ethical principles. In actual fact, however, they consult their community. On topics such as how to deal with inventories, R&D costs, (deferred) taxes, but also the way in which financial information needs to be presented, reports are commissioned which are discussed. Each of these areas could be analyzed at greater length, discussing both how parallels with ethical considerations are evident in both the way in which accounting standards emerge as well as in their content, but this would go beyond the scope of the present paper which is exploratory and suggestive in nature. The seemingly positivist approach to accounting standards setting13 turns out to be a communitarian type of discussion. Differences of degree remain, however, between the Continental European approach which relies more on issuing general principles, and an Anglo- Saxon approach which relies more on issuing larger numbers of rules for more specific situations.14 The former is more deontological, while the latter is more communitarian. In both, however, utilitarian considerations play a role. Perceiving of the process by which international accounting standards develop and are adopted across countries in terms of the different strands of ethical thought is likely to be illuminating, but must be left for another occasion. 3. Concluding Remarks At least for the purposes of teaching accounting to non-accountants or non-economists, I submit in this short contribution, accounting may be perceived and presented as applied ethics. Systematically gathered support for this hypothesis will, of course, have to be collected to substantiate this point. Doing so will improve the way in which students approach the topic, as people are likely to perceive of their social environment firstly in moral terms. In addition, there are important and substantial ways in which accounting theory is reminiscent of ethics. Economics generally is most akin to the utilitarian strand in economics, emerging from Bentham and Jevons. Accounting, on the other hand, draws on deontological ethics and has strong communitarian overtones. Being explicit about these aspects of accounting may not only improve students’ understanding of accounting, but may also open up a discussion for both scholars and practitioners in the field.15 13 See Zmyewski & Hagerman (1981) for an argument in favor of a positivist approach to setting accountancy standards. In view of the discussion here, one might call such an approach a deontological approach. 14 As of 1 january 2005, IASC accounting rules are adopted in the EU, suggesting the distinction is not between Continental Europe and an Anglo-Saxons, but between the American GAAP, and the European and British IASC. 15 As one referee has rightfully pointed out, part of the population of practicing accountants might have benefited if in their training the parallels between ethics and accounting had been explicated more. 8 References Aristotle (1980) The Nicomachean Ethics. 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Lancaster (ed., 1998) Consumer Theory. Cheltenham: Edward Elgar. A.T.A. Lovell (1995) “Moral Reasoning and Moral Atmosphere in the Domain of Accounting” Accounting, Auditing and Accountability Journal 6(2): 147-162. P. Mirowski (1989) More Heat than Light: Economics as Social Physics, Physics as Nature’s Economics. Cambridge & New York: Cambridge U.P. M. de Montaigne, M. de (1991) The Complete Essays (trans. by Michael Screech), London: Penguin. G.E. Moore (1903) Principia Ethica. Cambridge, England: Cambridge UP. D.C. North (1990) Institutions, Institutional Change and Economic Performance. New York: Cambridge UP. M. Peacock (2004) Everyday Conceptions of Justice and their Role in Economics. Paper presented at the World Congress for Social Economics, July 2004, Albertville, France. L.A. Ponemon (1992) “Ethical Reasoning and Selection-Socialization in Accounting” Accounting,Organizations and Society 17(3/4): 239-258. A. Puxty, P. Sikka & H. Willmott (1994) “(Re)forming the circle: education, ethics and accountancy practices” Accounting Education 3(1): 77-92. J. Rawls (1971) A Theory of Justice. Cambridge, Mass.: Belknap Press of Harvard UP. J.R. Rest (1986) Moral Development: Advances in Research and Theory. New York: Praeger. P.V. Rosenau (2004) New Evidence to Revise the Old Economics; Making Society Safe for contingent Cooperators. Paper presented at the Communitarian Summit, July 2004, Washington DC. J.J.C. Smart (1973) “An outline of a system of utilitarian ethics” in: J.J.C. Smart & B.Williams (eds.) Utilitarianism: For and Against. Cambridge, England: Cambridge UP. A. Smith (1976 [1759]) The Theory of Moral Sentiments. Indianapolis: Liberty, ed. D. Raphael & A. Macfie. ----, (1976 [1776]) An Inquiry into the Nature and Causes of the Wealth of Nations. Indianapolis: Liberty, ed. by R. Campbell & A. Skinner (2 volumes). I. van Staveren (2001) The Values of Economics: an Aristotelean Perspective. London: Routledge. G.J. Stigler (1968 [1950]) “The Development of Utility Theory. In: A.N. Page (ed.) Utility Theory: A book of reading. New York: John Wiley & Sons, pp. 59-119. [Reprinted from: Journal of Political Economy 58: 10 307-27 and 373-96, August and October.] P.G.A. de Wal (1927) De Leer van het Boekhouden in de Nederlanden tijdens de Zestiende Eeuw [Bookkeeping in the Netherlands during the 16th Century]. Roermond: J.J. Romen & Zonen. M. Walzer (1983) Spheres of Justice. Basic Books. M.V. White (1994) “Following Strange Gods: Women in Jevon’s Political Economy” in: P.Groenewegen (ed.) Feminism and Political Economy in Victorian England. Aldershot: Edward Elgar, pp. 46-78. M.E. Zmyewski & R.L. Hagerman (1981) "A Test of Accounting Bias and Market Structure: Some Additional Evidence" Review of Business and Economic Research. Fall, pp.84-88. Publications in the ERIM Report Series Research∗ in Management ERIM Research Program: “Organizing for Performance” 2005 Continuous versus Step-Level Public Good Games Susanne Abele and Garold Stasser ERS-2005-015-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/1937 Collective Consuming: Consumers as Subcontractors on Electronic Markets Wilfred Dolfsma ERS-2005-020-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/1932 Appropriability in Services Wilfred Dolfsma ERS-2005-021-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/1926 Is China a Leviathan? Ze Zhu ERS-2005-031-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/6551 Information Sharing and Cognitive Centrality Susanne Abele, Garold Stasser and Sandra I. Vaughan-Parsons ERS-2005-037-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/6664 Virtual Enterprises, Mobile Markets and Volatile Customers Ferdinand Jaspers, Willem Hulsink and Jules Theeuwes ERS-2005-039-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/6728 No Black Box and No Black Hole: from Social Capital to Gift Exchange Rene van der Eijk, Wilfred Dolfsma and Albert Jolink ERS-2005-040-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/6665 Boards in Agricultural Cooperatives: Competence, Authority, and Incentives G.W.J. Hendrikse ERS-2005-042-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/6883 The Protestant Work Ethic and Group Performance Susanne Abele and Michael Diehl ERS-2005-053-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/6990 Organization and Strategy of Farmer Specialized Cooperatives in China Yamei Hu, Zuhui Huang, George Hendrikse and Xuchu Xu ERS-2005-059-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/6995 The Influence of Employee Communication on Strategic Business Alignment Cees B. M. van Riel, Guido Berens and Majorie Dijkstra ERS-2005-060-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/6996 The Tsunami’s CSR Effect: MNEs and Philanthropic Responses to the Disaster Gail Whiteman, Alan Muller, Judith van der Voort, Jeroen van Wijk, Lucas Meijs and Cynthia Piqué ERS-2005-062-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/6994 Bridging Structure and Agency: Processes of Institutional Change Wilfred Dolfsma and Rudi Verburg ERS-2005-064-ORG http://hdl.handle.net/1765/7014 Accounting as Applied Ethics: Teaching a Discipline Wilfred Dolfsma ERS-2005-065-ORG ∗ A complete overview of the ERIM Report Series Research in Management: https://ep.eur.nl/handle/1765/1 ERIM Research Programs: LIS Business Processes, Logistics and Information Systems ORG Organizing for Performance MKT Marketing F&A Finance and Accounting STR Strategy and Entrepreneurship 
work_s567f3sxfrhnfjverv652bkwum	----	Translating Christianity in an Age of Reformations This is a repository copy of Translating Christianity in an Age of Reformations. White Rose Research Online URL for this paper: http://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/115307/ Version: Accepted Version Article: Ditchfield, Simon Richard orcid.org/0000-0003-1691-0271 (2017) Translating Christianity in an Age of Reformations. Studies in Church History. 11. pp. 164-195. ISSN 0424-2084 https://doi.org/10.1017/stc.2016.11 eprints@whiterose.ac.uk https://eprints.whiterose.ac.uk/ Reuse Items deposited in White Rose Research Online are protected by copyright, with all rights reserved unless indicated otherwise. They may be downloaded and/or printed for private study, or other acts as permitted by national copyright laws. The publisher or other rights holders may allow further reproduction and re-use of the full text version. This is indicated by the licence information on the White Rose Research Online record for the item. Takedown If you consider content in White Rose Research Online to be in breach of UK law, please notify us by emailing eprints@whiterose.ac.uk including the URL of the record and the reason for the withdrawal request. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 Translating Christianity in an Age of Reformations Simon Ditchfield University of York∗ Abstract: This chapter argues that the age of the Protestant and Catholic Reformations and the global spread of the latter brought with it the challenge that not only was it necessary to learn new languages in order to communicate the Christian message to non-European peoples encountered during the so-called ‘Age of Discovery’, but some kind of control had to be exercised over the new, global circulation of sacred images and relics. The latter facilitated the visual (and virtual) translation of such holy sites as Jerusalem and Rome and its specific holy treasures in the mental prayers of the faithful. It concludes that it was less Lamin Sanneh’s ‘triumph of [linguistic] translatability’ and more the physical translatability of the sacred that made possible the emergence of Roman Catholicism as this planet’s first world religion. _____________________________________ Andrea Pozzo’s dizzying fresco, The Worldwide Mission of the Society of Jesus, covering the nave ceiling of S. Ignazio in Rome and carried out between 1691 and 1694, is the ‘go-to’ image for any publisher, author or lecturer who wants a striking icon of the making of Roman Catholicism as a world religion in the early modern period.1 Indeed, its creator, himself a Jesuit, described it as follows: Address: Department of History, University of York, YORK YO10 5DD, UK E-mail: simon.ditchfield@york.ac.uk. 1 This well-known image may easily be found online, for example at: <https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:Triumph_St_Ignatius_Pozzo.jpg>, last accessed 27 May 2016. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 My idea in the painting was to represent the works of St Ignatius and of the Company of Jesus in spreading the Christian faith worldwide. In the first place, I embraced the entire vault with a building depicted in perspective. Then in the middle of this I painted the three persons of the Trinity; from the breast of one of which, that is the Human Son, issue forth rays that wound the heart of St Ignatius, and from him they issue, as a reflection spread to the four parts of the world depicted in the guise of Amazons … . These torches that you see in the two extremities of the vault represent the zeal of St Ignatius – who in sending his companions to preach the Gospel said to them: ‘Go and set the world alight (Ite, incendite, infiammate omnia), verifying in him Christ’s words (Luke 12: 49): ‘I am come to send fire on the earth; and what will I but that it be kindled?’ (Ignem veni mittere in terram, et quid volo nisi ut accendatur).2 By this period in the history of the Society of Jesus, its founder had come to stand for the order as a whole, as can be seen from the frontispiece to the Jesuit Daniello Bartoli’s life of Ignatius (1650), which the author, under official commission from the Jesuit father general, regarded as the first part of what became a multi-volume, though incomplete, history of the society as a truly global phenomenon. Notice here Ignatius’s role as intermediary who deflects divine light so that it spreads through the whole world, represented by the four personifications of Africa, America, Europe and Asia (Fig. 1). 2 Evonne Levy, Propaganda and the Jesuit Baroque (Berkeley and Los Angeles, CA, 2004), 151. Pozzo’s explanation may be found in the pamphlet Breve descrittione della pittura fatta nella volta del tempio di Sant’Ignazio scoperta l’anno MDCXCIV per la festa del medesimo santo (Rome, 1694), which can be viewed at: <https://archive.org/stream/brevedescrittion00koma#page/2/mode/2up>, last accessed 27 May 2016; my thanks to Professor Levy for directing me to the location of this very rare pamphlet. Save for the biblical passage, which is taken from The Vulgate Bible, 6: The New Testament, Douay-Rheims Translation (Cambridge MA, and London, 2013), 389, the translation is Levy’s. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 I Although Roman Catholicism might have reached all four then known continents by the time Pozzo came to paint this fresco, it had had limited impact in two of them (Asia and Africa), had been creatively reinterpreted in a third (the Americas), and expelled from significant parts of the fourth (Europe). Moreover, the fiercely defended royal monopoly over ecclesiastical appointments in the Portuguese and Spanish overseas empires – known respectively as the padroado real and patronato real – meant that the papacy was in no position to assert full jurisdiction over the missions until well into the twentieth century.3 As I have noted elsewhere, if one were to make an honest appraisal of world geopolitics c.1500, the subsequent global spread of Roman Catholicism would seem highly unlikely.4 To begin with, Columbus famously failed to find what he was looking for – a short cut to the East (which from the time of the collapse of the Roman Empire down to the mid- nineteenth century was unquestionably the wealthiest part of the globe), rather than the discovery of a ‘New World’. The promise and potential of the Americas as a fertile field of Christian conversion or for economic exploitation had yet to make its impact. Save for such relatively isolated communities as the Syriac ‘Thomas’ Christians of south-western India, the Syriac Maronite Church of Antioch, the minority Coptic Church of Egypt, and the Coptic kingdom of Ethiopia, Christendom was boxed into the western extremity of the Eurasian landmass by considerable Islamic powers, notably the Ottoman Empire to the east and the 3 However, the work of Benedetta Albani is showing us that the Council of the Indies in Seville did not necessarily prevent appellants from the New World gaining access to Roman or papal justice, in the form of the Congregation of the Council: see her chapter, ‘Nuova luce sulle relazioni tra la Sede Apostolica e le Americhe. La pratica della concessione del “pase regio” ai documenti pontefici destinati alle Indie’, in Claudio Ferlan, ed., Eusebio Francesco Chini e il suo tempo. Una riflessione storica (Trent, 2012), 83–102. 4 Simon Ditchfield, ‘Catholic Reformation and Renewal’, in Peter Marshall ed., The Oxford Illustrated History of the Reformation (Oxford, 2015), 152–85, at 162–3. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 Mamluk sultanate of Egypt to the south east. In North Africa, from Morocco to Tunis, Portuguese and Spanish influence was precarious and restricted to the coastline. Furthermore, on the coasts of Sicily and the Italian peninsula, the inhabitants were careful to locate their settlements in secure locations inland, a curious and inconvenient detail which still puzzles enterprising beach-lovers who holiday in remote parts of Sicily, Calabria and Puglia. However, this did little to protect the local population from countless raids made by Barbary corsairs, even if the numbers of those thereby cast into white slavery do not compare with the numbers of their black counterparts who would later be brutally transported across the Atlantic.5 In East Asia, Islam had been enjoying a wave of continuous expansion ever since the ruler of the Malay port of Melaka decided sometime between 1409 and 1436 to adopt Islam and thereby plug his economy into a flourishing trading network that stretched via Bengal and Hormuz to Cairo and Istanbul.6 The pace of conversion was to accelerate from c.1500, in parallel with, and not unrelated to, the arrival of Christianity.7 In the Americas, the Aztec and 5 Robert C. Davis, Christian Slaves, Muslim Masters: White Slavery in the Mediteranean, the Barbary Coast and Italy (Basingstoke, 2003). It should be noted, however, that Davis’s claim that as many as one million Europeans were enslaved during this period has been vigorously contested: see, for example, Wolfgang Kaiser, Le Commerce des captifs. Les Intermédiares dans l’échange et le rachat des prisonniers en Méditerranėe, XV e –XVIII e siècle, Collection de l’École française de Rome 406 (Rome, 2008); Nabil Matar, British Captives from the Mediterranean to the Atlantic, 1563–1760 (Leiden and Boston, MA, 2014). 6 ‘Indeed, so associated was Islam with Malay culture that the phrase masuk melayu (‘to become a Malay’) came to mean the adoption of Islam’: see Barbara Andaya, ‘ Developments in Southeast Asia, c. 1500-1800’ in Nicholas Tarling, ed., The Cambridge History of Southeast Asia, 4 vols., (Cambridge, 1999), 2: 164-227 (at 173). 7 ‘On the basis of cultural developments in the preceding five centuries, an impartial observer in the year 1500 might well have predicted that Islam would soon become the world’s dominant faith, its principal source of beliefs, values, culture and human consciousness’: Jerry H. Bentley, Old World Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 Inca kingdoms had reached their apogee. In China, the Confucian Middle Kingdom of the Ming had admittedly abandoned its early fifteenth-century practice of sending gargantuan armadas on flag-waving voyages as far as East Africa, but this was not in response to hostile reception but because of their perceived irrelevance to China’s continental concerns as Asia’s most considerable power. In 1501 Shah Esmā’īl (1487–1524) seized Tabriz and inaugurated the Safavid Empire, which unified Iran and under Shah ‘Abbas the Great (1587–1629) reached the climax of its power. In the territory represented by modern-day Afghanistan, Zahir ud-din Babur (1483–1530), the great-great-great-grandson of Tamerlane, was poised to invade the Indian subcontinent. He would establish what came to be known as the Mughal Empire, in which a Muslim minority ruled successfully for more than two centuries over a Hindu majority. If the early modern period, as has been argued recently, was in global terms an ‘age of empire’, then the West had but a single contestant: the Habsburgs, who managed to unite their various Burgundian, Austrian and Spanish patrimonies with the title of Holy Roman Emperor for just a little under four decades (1519–56).8 To borrow Gibbon’s famous remark that, had it not been for Charles Martel’s victory over the Arabs at the battle of Poitiers in 732, ‘the interpretation of the Koran would now be taught in the schools of Oxford … [and her pulpits] might demonstrate to a circumcised people the sanctity and truth of the revelation of Mahomet’, one might with no less justification remark that had it not been for the need for the Ottomans repeatedly to turn their attention to the Safavid threat on their south-east border, the 137-metre high steeple of Vienna Cathedral would merely have been the first such spire to provide the muezzin with a substitute for his usual minaret from which to call the faithful to prayer.9 Encounters: Cross-Cultural Contacts and Exchanges in Pre-Modern Times (New York and Oxford, 1993), 176. 8 John Darwin, After Tamerlane: The Global History of Empire since 1405 (London, 2007). 9 Edward Gibbon, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire, ed. D. Womersley, 6 vols in 3 (London, 1994), 3: 336 (1st edn, 1788, vol. 5, ch. 52). Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 The ‘triumph of the West over the Rest’ would have to wait until the late nineteenth and even early twentieth centuries. Even then, it was a ‘victory’ expressed in terms of economic and political, and not religious, dominance. The Scottish explorer and missionary to Africa David Livingstone famously converted just two Africans to Christianity (one of whom subsequently apostatized. So it is perhaps not such a surprise to learn that there was not a single African in attendance at the landmark World Missionary Conference which met in Edinburgh in 1910.10 Indeed, the ‘Christian century’ in Africa had not then begun and is still very much in progress. While in 1950 only about 15 per cent of the population of sub-Saharan Africa was Christian, by 2010 it had risen to over 60 per cent, and just under 24 per cent of the world’s 2.2 billion Christians lived in the continent. By 2050, according to the latest figures from the Pew Research Center, this proportion will rise to 38 per cent, which will represent a sea-change in the regional distribution of Christianity in the world: as recently as 2010 there were equal numbers of Christians in Europe, Latin America and Africa, representing some 75 per cent of the world’s total (at around 25 per cent each).11 It has been speculated that by 2050 one in four Christians in Europe and North America will be from the ‘Christian’ South. Historians are usually warned that we should forget the future and try to view the period we study, as far as possible, in its own terms. Hindsight is seen as a hindrance. However, it can also be a help, which, I believe, is the case here. We need to appreciate that Christianity, let alone Roman Catholicism, was not yet a world religion even by the dawn of the twentieth century. Although the nineteenth century, that third ‘heroic’ chapter in global 10 Andrew F. Walls, ‘Christianity in the Non-Western World: A Study in the Serial Nature of Christian expansion’, Studies in World Christianity 6 (1995), 1–25, at 7. 11 Europe is the only region where the absolute number of Christians is set to decline: from 553 to 454 million. Simultaneously, the proportion of the world’s Christians in Europe will plummet from 25.5 to 15.6 per cent. By comparison, Latin America’s percentage remains more or less steady, with a decline only from 25.5 to 22.8 per cent. See ‘Pew Research Center: Christians’, online at: <http://www.pewforum.org/2015/04/02/christians/>, last accessed 13 July 2015. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 missions, was more successful, numerically speaking, than either of its predecessors (i.e. the early spread of Christianity, mainly through the Roman Empire, and the early modern ‘Age of Discovery’), in that the proportion of the world’s population that was Christian in 1800 increased from a little over a fifth to over a third in 1900 (from 22.2 to 36.6 per cent), whereas between 300 and 500 the proportion of Christians increased from 7 to 20 per cent, while from 1500 to 1750 there was a decidedly smaller increase, from 18.5 to 21.5 per cent. It is only in our own time that the global shift south is taking place. Moreover, the proportion of Christians as a percentage of world population actually fell during the twentieth century from 33.6 to 33.3 per cent.12 All this should help us recalibrate our understanding of what was actually achieved during the phase of extra-European mission that coincided with the so- called ‘age of discovery’. II Before going any further, it is essential to move beyond the view of the communication of the Christian message simply in terms of the active broadcaster / passive receiver model. Of course, this is not to deny that the evidential record is very much weighted in favour of the broadcasters over the receivers, which encourages historians, in turn, to measure reception of 12 There was an overall increase from 200 to 500 million Christians between 1800 and 1900, including a rise in the number of Roman Catholics from 106 million to 266 million. The period from 1500 to 1750 saw a rise from 76 million to 155 million, which included an increase in the number of Catholics from 45 to 82 million. Such astonishingly precise figures are necessarily only indicative; however, they can, I think, be used to sketch, in rough terms, the overall picture. For the full dataset, see David Barrett and Todd Johnson, ‘World Christian Trends across 22 Centuries AD30–AD2000’, online at: <http://gordonconwell.edu/ockenga/research/documents/gd04.pdf>, last accessed 26 October 2016; my thanks to Luke Clossey for drawing my attention to this source. See also Todd M. Johnson and Brian J, Grim, The World’s Religions in Figures: An Introduction to International Religious Demography (Oxford and Malden, MA, 2013), which provides more contextual detail. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 the message in terms of degrees of distortion from the ideal. It is for this very reason that we need to heed the ‘excursus against influence’ offered by the art historian Michael Baxandall. Instead of positing a model whereby A influences B, he proposed that we invert the relationship and look at how B might act upon A. For Baxandall, ‘to think in terms of influence blunts thought by impoverishing the means of differentiation’.13 By contrast, if we make use of the richer palate of active verbs (such as: draw on, resort to, avail oneself of, appropriate from, have recourse to, adapt, misunderstand, refer to, pick up, take on, engage with, react to, quote, differentiate oneself from, assimilate oneself to), we stand a better chance of retrieving the scope for action possessed by those – both clerics and laypeople – on the receiving end of papal and episcopal instructions or of Christian catechesis. However, this approach, which seeks to restore agency to those working on the ground – both missionaries and missionized – is not without its methodological challenges, since the weight of surviving evidence reflects, first and foremost, the view and agenda of the missionaries rather than that of their potentialconverts. Another obstacle, ironically, has been the work of those pioneers, who sought, in the 1960s and early 1970s, to recover the ‘visions of the Vanquished’ of the missionized in the New World.14 The emphasis such authors placed on the trauma of catastrophic destruction and disease – both physical and psychological – was not only rooted in the historical record but also undoubtedly framed in terms of the postcolonial polemic as forged in the white heat of anger by such authors as the Martinique-born doctor and psychiatrist Frantz Fanon, in his 13 Michael Baxandall, Patterns of Intention: On the Historical Interpretation of Pictures (New Haven, CT, and London, 1985), 59. 14 Miguel León-Portilla, Visión de los vencidos. Relaciones indígenas de la conquista (Mexico City, 1959); Nathan Wachtel, La Vision des vaincus. Les Indiens de Pérou devant la conquête espagnole, 1530–1570 (Paris, 1971). Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 classic denunciation of colonialism, The Wretched of the Earth, written at the height of the Algerian war of independence from France and published in 1961.15 While such historians have undoubtedly had the beneficial effect of forcing us to modify our view of the misleadingly triumphant ‘spiritual conquest’ narrative of Christian missions in the so-called Age of Discovery, I would argue that they have also had the effect of making us underestimate both the role of non-Christian rulers in the expansion of Christianity and the capacity of the latter for material as much as linguistic translation into indigenous idioms.16 It should not be forgotten that the largest-scale conversion of indigenous peoples to Christianity, after that of the duchy of Lithuania in the late fourteenth century and before those of the nineteenth, took place in the kingdom of the Kongo,17 as a consequence of the baptism of its ruler Nzinga a Nkuwu in 1491. Taking the Christian name of João in honour of the then king of Portugal, Nzinga soon tired of his new faith, developing a particular objection to the uncompromising Christian line on polygamy. However, his son Nvemba Nzinga, who succeeded his father in 1506 and took the name Afonso, was very different; indeed, he has been called ‘one of the greatest lay Christians in African Church history’.18 At the time of Afonso’s death in 1543, it is estimated that some two million people, 15 Frantz Fanon, Les Damnės de la terre (Paris, 1961). The English translation, by Constance Farrington, was published by Penguin in 1967 with a preface by Jean-Paul Sartre (originally composed for the French edition), following a first hardback edition of 1965. Damnés might more appropriately be translated ‘damned’. 16 This theme of elite conversion to monotheism across the world from 1450–1850 is currently being explored for a forthcoming monograph by Alan Strathern at the University of Oxford. I am grateful to Dr Strathern for his comments on a draft chapter of my own forthcoming book, Papacy and Peoples, which deals with the mission to the Kongo, and for letting me read his account of missions in Africa for the Brill Companion to Catholic Missions in advance of publication. 17 Kongo extended across what is now northern Angola, Cabinda, the Republic of the Congo, the western area of the Democratic Republic of the Congo, and the south of Gabon. 18 Adrian Hastings, The Church in Africa, 1450–1950 (Oxford, 1994), 81. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 about half the kingdom’s population, had been baptized.19 The degree of success the king had in rooting his sacral legitimacy in Roman Catholic rites and rituals was mirrored by the degree to which the noble ruling class sustained a commitment to the new religion. The centrality of ritual to the role of Roman Catholicism in Kongolese society may be best appreciated if we consider the symbolic focus offered by churches in the rebaptized town of São Salvador (formerly Mbanza Kongo). The main Christian feasts were integrated into the royal ritual cycle and the king’s presence at such ceremonies was seen to enhance monarchic mystique and power. For much of the sixteenth century, there was hardly another priest in the country; São Salvador was only created a bishopric in 1596 and by that time there were still only about a dozen functioning churches in the whole kingdom, served by African or Afro- Portuguese clergy.20 This only served to impart added significance to the actions of this Christian nganga, whose very title he shared with pagan priests. In the words of Adrian Hastings: ‘It was a meeting between two societies and even two religions rather less different from one another than we are inclined to believe’.21 In both Kongo and Portugal of the late fifteenth century, religion was more about ritual than doctrine; more about adoring sacred images, relics and fetishes than reading and expounding holy texts; more about the propitiation of interfering, vengeful demons or demanding spirits than the worship of a transcendent deity. In Kongo, as in so much of pre-Reformation Europe, the translatability of Christianity consisted of the repurposing of objects and rituals rather than the introduction of new texts, although the translation of the latter was itself far from being a straightforward process, as we shall now see. 19 John Thornton, ‘The Development of an African Catholic Church in the Kingdom of Kongo, 1491– 1750’, JAH 25 (1984), 147–67. 20 Anthony Disney, A History of Portugal and the Portuguese Empire from Beginnings to 1807, 2 vols. (Cambridge, 2009), 2: 67. 21 Hastings, Church in Africa, 73. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 The traditional Italian coupling: traduttore, traditore (‘translator, traitor’) should be enough to disabuse anyone who still thinks, thanks to Paul Ricoeur, that the so-called ‘hermeneutic of suspicion’ was invented during the nineteenth and early twentieth centuries by the likes of Marx, Nietzsche and Freud. Concern with language and meaning had been put on a new footing by humanists such as Lorenzo Valla and Desiderius Erasmus – both of whom published revised Latin translations of the gospels, with polemical intent – before the Reformation provoked a wave of new, no less polemical, vernacular translations of the entire Bible.22 The Lutheran and Calvinist reformations, on the one hand, and the Counter- Reformation, on the other, saw unprecedented attempts at censorship of both written and oral culture by both positive and negative means. In the Roman Catholic world, this was at least partially achieved by the issue of standard ‘Roman Editions’ of key religious texts, which included not only the so-called Sixto-Clementine Vulgate (1592) but also liturgical service books such as the Breviary (1568) and the Missal (1570). Revealingly, the first of these ‘Roman editions’ was the Roman Catechism, which was issued in 1566, soon after the official edition of the Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent. These ‘Roman’ editions were accompanied by the publication of a series of indexes of prohibited books, not only by Rome: in the sixteenth century thirty-two editions were published, of which only six were printed in Rome, no more than the number of editions published in the space of just twelve years (1544– 56) by the Sorbonne.23 By means of these lists the authorities sought, with only qualified success, to exert control over the circulation of heterodox opinions. Rome followed up its efforts by founding a curial standing committee, the Congregation of the Index, in 1571 to 22 See now Euan Cameron, ed., The New Cambridge History of the Bible, 3: From 1450–1750 (Cambridge, 2016), part 1, chs 1–5. 23 Jesús M de Bujanda et al., eds, Index des livres interdits, vols 1–9 (Québec and Geneva, 1984–94). Vols 8 and 9 are devoted to the Roman indexes of 1557, 1559, 1564, 1590, 1593 and 1596. The six indexes published by the Sorbonne in 1544, 1545, 1547, 1549, 1551 and 1556 are reproduced in vol. 1. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 supplement the Holy Office, which had been founded in 1542.24 However, my focus in this essay lies elsewhere, since I have deliberately chosen to understand ‘translation’ in its broadest sense: so as to include pilgrimage (both physical and virtual), conversion and the movement of relics, as well as the rendition of texts in another language from the original. III In his presidential address to the American Catholic Historical Association, delivered in December 1990 and published the following year in the Catholic Historical Review, the Jesuit historian John O’Malley memorably pointed out that, not only in his early years, Loyola’s ‘eyes were set on Jerusalem, not Wittenberg’.25 O’Malley’s doctoral work on the Augustinian eschatological preacher Giles of Viterbo (1472–1532) would have made him all too aware of the enduring power down to the Renaissance (and beyond) of the idea of Rome as New Jerusalem. Giles compared the Tiber to the River Jordan and saw ‘Etruria’ as the new Holy Land. Here the friar was simply building upon the patristic idea that Christ’s baptism marked the passing from the law of the old dispensation to the new, Christian faith of redemption.26 24 Gigliola Fragnito, ed., Church, Censorship and Culture in Early Modern Italy (Cambridge, 2001); idem, Proibito capire. La chiesa e il volgare nella prima età moderna (Bologna, 2005); Vittorio Frajese, Nascita dell’Indice. La censura ecclesiastica dal Rinascimento alla Controriforma (Brescia, 2006). Cf. the recent review article by Andreea Badea, ‘Zwischen Dissimulation und Disziplinierung. Neue Literatur zur Geschichte der Buchzensur auf der italienischen Halbinsel’, Quellen und Forschungen aus italienischen Archiven und Bibliotheken 95 (2015), 385–96; my thanks to Stefan Bauer for drawing my attention to this article. 25 John W. O’Malley, ‘Was Ignatius Loyola a Church Reformer? How to look at Early Modern Catholicism’, CathHR 77 (1991), 177–93, at 191. 26 John W. O’Malley, ‘Giles of Viterbo: A Reformer’s Thought on Renaissance Rome’, RQ 20 (1967), 1–11; cf. Charles Stinger, The Renaissance in Rome (Bloomington, IN, 1985), ch. 4; Philip Jacks, The Antiquarian and the Myth of Antiquity (Cambridge, 1993), 67–73. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 O’Malley calls us to avoid identifying Loyola exclusively with the ‘Counter-Reformation’. Instead, we should remember, not so much Ignatius’s physical pilgrimage to the Holy Land, where he so embarrassed and irritated the Franciscan Guardians of the Holy Places with his clumsy attempts to court martyrdom that they bundled him onto a ship back to Europe, but his mental evocation of the Holy Land in the Spiritual Exercises – unforgettably described by Outram Evennett as that ‘shock tactic spiritual gymnastic to be undertaken and performed under guidance’ (rather than simply read).27 As recent studies have demonstrated, this practice of ‘imagined’ or ‘virtual’ pilgrimage, whereby the devout were able to translate themselves in their imagination to the Holy Land, was still flourishing at the end of the fifteenth century.28 It was undertaken particularly by those, such as nuns and other devout women living in the world, who had few opportunities to make the physical journey. Through works such as the Sionpilger by the fifteenth-century Observant Dominican Felix Fabri, who visited the Holy Land twice – once in 1480 to Jerusalem and then again in 1483–4, when he made the further pilgrimage to St Catherine’s monastery in Sinai – the nuns in his spiritual charge in the German city of Ulm were encouraged to evoke in mental prayer the places where Christ walked, talked, suffered, was crucified and rose from the dead in order to intensify their apprehension of the Passion story.29 Similar practices were also encouraged in one of the most widely disseminated texts of the pre-Gutenberg age, Thomas of Kempen’s Imitation of Christ, which charged its readers and listeners to accompany Christ in every detail of his life.30 27 H. Outram Evennett, The Spirit of the Counter Reformation, ed. John Bossy (Cambridge, 1968), 45. 28 David Morgan, The Forge of Vision: A Visual History of Modern Christianity (Oakland, CA, 2015), 35–41. 29 Kathryn M. Rudy, Virtual Pilgrimages in the Convent: Imagining Jerusalem in the Late Middle Ages (Turnhout, 2011); Kathryne Beebe, Pilgrim & Preacher: The Audiences and Observant Spirituality of Friar Felix Fabri (1437/8–1502) (Oxford, 2014). 30 This work survives in some 900 manuscript copies from the fifteenth century alone, and there were over 740 printed editions down to 1650: see John H. Van Engen, Sisters and Brothers of the Common Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 This virtual translation of the Holy Places as a way of structuring meditation had its counterpart in the physical re-creation in Western Europe and the Iberian and Lusitanian colonies of places associated with Christ’s life and Passion. As Christianity is a religion built upon an avowedly historical event, it can be no surprise that such copies date back almost as far as the events they commemorate. To consider just a single western example: the origins of the building complex of S.Stefano in Bologna – referred to locally as St Jerusalem or the Seven Churches –is dated to the 5th century AD.31 Moreover, the Ethiopian Orthodox priests of Lalibela claim, according to a tradition, that the layout of their famous rock-hewn churches is a symbolic representation of Jerusalem, and that their construction was prompted by Saladin’s retaking of the Holy City in 1187.32 However, the number of these so-called ‘Passion Parks’ or miniature replicas of Jerusalem (or key buildings within it) increased markedly in the sixteenth century and later and may be found from Brazil to Bologna, and from Granada in Andalucia to Gorlitz near the Polish border.33 Perhaps the most famous Life: The Devotio Moderna and the World of the Later Middle Ages (Philadelphia, PA, 2008); Maximilian von Habsburg, Catholic and Protestant Translations of the Imitatio Christi, 1425–1650: From Late Medieval Classic to Early Modern Bestseller (Farnham, 2011). 31 Colin Morris, ‘Bringing the Holy Sepulchre to the West: S. Stefano, Bologna from the Fifth to the Twentieth Century’, in R. N. Swanson, ed., The Church Retrospective, SCH 33 (Oxford, 1997), 31–60 32 Jacques Mercier & Claude Lepage, Lalibela: wonder of Ethiopia. The monolithic churches and their treasures, (London, 2012). 33 George Kubler, ‘Sacred Mountains in Europe and America’, in T. Verdon and J. Henderson, eds, Christianity and the Renaissance: Image and Religious Imagination in the Quattrocentro (Syracuse, NY, 1990), 413–41; cf. L. Vaccaro and F. Riccardi, eds, Sacri Monti. Devozioni, arte e cultura della Controriforma (Milan, 1992); Rudy, Virtual Pilgrimages, 250–1; Annabel Wharton, Selling Jerusalem: Relics, Replicas, Theme Parks (Chicago, IL, 1996); F. Cardini, Andare per le Gerusalemme d’Italia (Bologna, 2015). The Russian Orthodox Church should not be excluded from this fashion, as can be seen from the recently restored Novoijerusalemsky Monastery, founded in 1656, forty kilometres north-west of Moscow in the town of Istra; my thanks to Luke Clossey for this information. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 manifestation of this phenomenon is the series of sacri monti (holy mountains) which formed a kind of confessional cordon sanitaire or string of watchtowers along the borders of Piedmont and Lombardy with the Reformed cantons of Switzerland. Overseen by Observant Franciscans, who also had responsibility for the Holy Places in Palestine, these included a mini-Jerusalem at Varallo, much favoured by that model Counter-Reformation prelate, San Carlo Borromeo, which was the first to be begun in 1491, and the string of fourteen chapels dedicated to the Mysteries of the Rosary at Varese dating from 1605. All were populated by numerous brightly painted full-scale figures who recreated scenes from the life, suffering and death of either Christ, Mary or (in the single exception of the Sacro Monte on Lake Orta) the life of St Francis of Assisi. The translation of the topography of Jerusalem could also be imposed on an existing urban landscape. In 1659 the North Italian Somaschan priest Lorenzo Longo published a brief twenty-four-page booklet entitled Gerusalemme piacentina, or, to give it its full title, ‘The Places of Piacenza corresponding to the Holy Places of Jerusalem which may be visited by the faithful and devout Servants of God [so that they might] meditate on the most holy Life, Passion, Death and Resurrection of our Saviour Jesus Christ with … great spiritual Profit’.34 In the preface, Longo compared his grafting of the topography of Jerusalem onto this small town, situated on the river Po some seventy kilometres south of Milan, with the presence of models of the Holy House of Loreto in the nearby cities of Alessandria and Como. He then mentioned the various places in Piacenza where there were already particular scenes from the life of Christ (overwhelmingly evocations of the Holy Crib). In order to emphasize the convenience afforded by his guide, he mentioned how the capture of the Holy Places (by the 34 Lorenzo Longo, Gerusalemme piacentina, cioè chiese e luoghi di Piacenza corrispondenti a luoghi santi di Gerusalemme da visitare da fedeli e devoti servi di Dio in modo che possono meditare sulla vita santissima, passione, morte e resurrezione del nostro salvatore Jesu Cristo con gran profito spirituale … (Piacenza, 1659). Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 Ottomans in 1517) had made physical pilgrimage very difficult.35 It is at this point that Longo also mentioned the Sacro Monte at Varallo, which was less than a hundred kilometres from Piacenza. Before taking the reader – or listener – through the streets of Piacenza, Longo argued that the whole of Lombardy and Piedmont – for which he used the classical Roman label Gallia Cisalpina – might be considered to be a kind of virtual Palestine, with Tortona standing in for Gaza, Como as Tyre, Monza as Caesarea, Milan as Jaffa and the Adda as the River Jordan. The fact that all this information was delivered in the form of a poem suggests that Longo probably intended it to be memorized by the dutiful pilgrim and recited before the local counterparts to the key sites of the Passion story. The pamphlet closed with a careful enumeration of the spiritual bounty which pilgrims would gain for their labours in the form of a list of the indulgences. IV This brings us to what linked all these practices: they enabled all, and not only those who journeyed all the way to the Holy Land, to benefit from the generous indulgences which such an act of piety brought with it. Of course indulgences have not had a very good press, particularly since 1517, but, as Elizabeth Tingle has reminded us, the triumphant revival of the cult of saints and of Catholic devotions more generally in the Counter-Reformation Church would have been inconceivable without indulgences: they were the mortar which held 35 Such emphasis on the difficulties of contemporary, physical pilgrimage to the Holy Land has undoubtedly led to an underestimation of the significance of such travel during the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, which is now only being corrected: see, for instance, Wes Williams, Pilgrimage and Narrative in the French Renaissance: The Undiscovered Country (Oxford, 1998); Marie-Christine Gomez-Géraud, La Crépuscule du Grand Voyage. Les Récits des pèlerins à Jérusalem (1458–1612), 2 vols (Paris, 1990); F. Thomas Noonan, The Road to Jerusalem: Pilgrimage and Travel in the Age of Discovery (Philadelphia, PA, 2007). Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 the whole edifice together.36 Furthermore, they collapsed devotional distance by making possible global cults of such relics closely associated with Rome as the icon of the Blessed Virgin Mary held in the Roman basilica of S. Maria Maggiore and known sometimes as Madonna of the Snows, after the alleged miracle of an August snowfall which was caused by the Virgin to indicate where she wanted the basilica in her honour to be built on the Esquiline Hill, and sometimes as the Saviour of the Roman People (Salus populi romani), owing to her alleged role in bringing about the end of the plague in the city at the time of Pope Gregory the Great at the end of the sixth century.37 A famous print, attributed to Stefano Du Pérac, was published by the French-born adoptive Italian engraver Antonio Lafréry in time for the holy year of 1575, which with its 400,000 pilgrim visitors saw the relaunch of Rome as capital of a world religion. It depicts, in very much idealized terms, pilgrims processing between the seven major basilicas of the Eternal City (Fig. 2). As Barbara Wisch observes: ‘No earlier maps of the city had ever “populated” the city in quite this way’.38 Here Rome is not simply ‘represented’ but shown ‘in action’. Such prints would have been bought by pilgrims to take home with them as souvenirs of their visit to the city and this one should be seen, in Wisch’s words, ‘[as] a kind of didactic memory guide for reliving the Holy Year experience or transforming the potential pilgrim into an actual one’.39 Du Pérac’s print also conveys Rome’s claim to have become a New Jerusalem, as it was home to so many physical testimonies to the apostolic origins of Christianity. These 36 Elizabeth Tingle, Indulgences after Luther: Pardons in Counter-Reformation France, 1520–1720 (London, 2015). 37 Gerhard Wolf, Salus populi Romani. Die Geschichte römischer Kultbilder im Mittelalter (Weinheim, 1990); Hans Beltung, Likeness and Presence: A History of the Image before the Era of Art (Chicago, IL, 1994), 311–29. 38 Barbara Wisch, ‘The Matrix: Le Sette Chiese di Roma of 1575 and the Image of Pilgrimage’, Memoirs of the American Academy in Rome 56–7 (2011–12), 271–303, at 280. 39 Ibid. 295. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 comprised not only buildings but also bones: the relics of the early Christian martyrs, whose number was to increase exponentially only three years after the 1575 jubilee for which Du Pérac’s print was conceived. In 1578, the so-called Catacombs of Priscilla were discovered under an orchard just north east of the city walls, and a pious identification of all those buried within them as victims of Roman imperial persecution followed. This discovery of what one contemporary authority described grandiloquently as a ‘subterranean city’,40 ushered in the biggest boost in relic traffic since the dramatic rise in the circulation of relics consequent on the so-called Fourth Crusade in 1204.41 In 1635, rather than the 1632 announced on the title page, after not inconsiderable delay owing to its extensive illustrations, the first atlas of this subterranean New World was published in Rome, Roma sotterranea, by the Maltese Antonio Bosio.42 As the extended title of this work makes clear, it was intended also to be a gallery displaying a visual testimony to the sufferings and martyrdom of the early Christians whose priceless relics lay beneath the soil of the Roman campagna outside the city walls. The next three hundred years were to see Roman catacomb relics translated throughout the Catholic world. A recent survey has calculated that no fewer than 14,000 relics from this source (many of which were whole bodies) were distributed throughout the world 40 ‘Mirabile dictum… eius amplitudine, multisque atque diversis eiusdem vijs, quam subterraneam civitatem’: Cesare Baronio, Annales ecclesiastici, 12 vols (Rome, 1588–1607), 2: 59. 41 Anne Lester discusses some of the consequences of this in her essay, in this volume: ‘Translation and Appropriation: Greek Relics in the Latin West in the Aftermath of the Fourth Crusade’, 000–00. 42 Antonio Bosio, Roma sotterranea … nella quale si tratta de’sacri cimiterii di Roma, del sito, forma, et uso antico di essi, de cubicoli, oratorii, imagini, ieroglifici, iscrittioni et epitaffi, che vi sono … del significato delle dette imagini e ieroglifici. De riti funerali in sepellirvi i defonti de martiri in essi risposti o martirizati nelle vie circonvicine. Delle cose memorabili, sacre e profane ch’erano nelle medesime vie e d’altre notabili, che rappresentano l’imagine della primitiva chiesa. L’angustia che patì nel tempo delle persecutioni, il fervore de’primi Christiani e li veri et inestimabili tesori, che Roma tiene rinchiusi sotto le sue campagne (Rome, 1632 [1635]). Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 between 1578 and 1870.43 Unsurprisingly, they were exported particularly to frontier zones in both the Old and New Worlds. In Europe, the Upper Rhine Palatinate, which changed faith more than once during the century after the Reformation and where the Wittelsbach dukes of Bavaria replaced holy bodies destroyed during the Thirty Years’ War (1618–48), was a territory particularly favoured. It is reckoned that over a thousandcatacomb saints were translated from Rome into this area during the long seventeenth century (c.1580–c.1750).44 Much less well known until very recently, however, has been the translation of such relics to the New World. Their entry into Mexico City on 2 November 1578 was given a particularly magnificent treatment: a pageant entitled Triumph of the Saints.45 The distribution and processing of relics was a long-established Christian practice dating back at least to the time of St Augustine, who in the last book of City of God talked with guarded approval of St Stephen’s wonder-working relics, which had just recently ‘come on stream’, as a result of the discovery of his tomb at Kafr Gamala, Palestine, in 415. However, the advent of the Reformation considerably intensified the significance of the practice, since the cult of saints and the adoration of the eucharist had become the two most visible markers of Roman Catholicism. 43 Stéphane Baciocchi and Christophe Duhamelle, eds, Reliques romaines. Invention et circulation des corps saints des catacombes à l’époque moderne (Rome, 2016). 44 Trevor Johnson, ‘Holy Fabrications: The Catacomb Saints and the Counter-Reformation in Bavaria’, JEH 47 (1996), 274–97; see also the lavishly illustrated photo-essay by Paul Koudounaris, Heavenly Bodies: Cult Treasures and Spectacular Saints from the Catacombs (London, 2013). 45 Tragedia del triunfo de los santos: see Pierre-Antoine Favre, ‘Reliquias romanas en México. Historia d’una migración’, in Guillermo Wilde, ed., Saberes de la Conversión. Jesuitas, Indígenas e Imperios coloniales en las fronteras de la Cristianidad (Buenos Aires, 2012), 207–24; cf. Leandro Karnal, ‘Les reliques dans la conquête de l’Amérique luso-espagnole’, in Philippe Boutry, Pierre-Antoine Fabre and Dominique Julia, eds, Reliques modernes. Cultes et usages chrétiens des corps saints des Réformes aux revolutions, 2 vols (Paris, 2009), 2: 731–50, at 745–50. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 In a letter from Québec dated 16 October 1666, the Ursuline nun Marie L’Incarnation (1599–1672) thanked her son for the ‘fine present of saints’ relics’, which he had sent her community, and which were now venerated ‘in a place set aside for the purpose’, whence they were taken to be displayed on feast days in four reliquaries. Marie, who had joined the order after being widowed at a relatively young age, described an event of a magnificence that she never dared to imagine seeing in New France, ‘where, since I arrived, I have seen nothing that was not uncivilized and barbarous’.46 This was the translation of the bodies of two saints from the Roman catacombs, Flavian and Felicity, which had been given to the colony by the pope. The ceremony, which took in all four of the city’s existing churches, lasted over six hours, with accompanying music, and involved no fewer than forty-seven ecclesiastics as well as the governor of New France, Daniel de Rémy de Courcelles. However, the traffic was two-way, for Rome also imported relics, notably from the Holy Land, as exemplified in the Sancta Sanctorum, which had been the pope’s private chapel in the old Lateran palace and was the repository of some of Rome’s most sacred relics, including an Acheiropoeton or icon of Christ allegedly not painted by [human] hands but channeled by divine guidance through St Luke. Previously inaccessible to the public, Sixtus V had the scala sancta – the flight of stairs allegedly originating from Pilate’s palace in Jerusalem which Christ had therefore climbed – moved from the north wing of the medieval Lateran palace, which the pope had demolished, to form a new public entrance to the Sancta Sanctorum facing the basilica of S. Giovanni in Laterano.47 46 ‘quand j’y suis venue je n’avois rien vue que d’inculte et de barbare’: G. Oury, ed., Marie de l’Incarnation Ursuline (1599–1672). Correspondence (Solesmes, 1971), 767–9, at 767 (letter 223). 47 Helge Gamrath, Roma sancta renovata. Studi sull’urbanistica di Roma nella seconda metà del sec. XVI con particolare riferimento al pontificato di Sisto V (1585–90) (Rome, 1987), 157–8. For a comprehensive description of the Scala Sancta and the Sancta Sanctorum, see Liliana Barroero, ed., Guide rionali di Roma. Rione I – Monti, parte 1 (Rome, 1982), 68–77. For Sixtus V’s decorative programme, see Maria Luisa Madonna, ed., Roma di Sisto V. Le arti e la cultura (Rome, 1993), 126–35. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 This ‘connectedness’ of Rome with the wider Roman Church – which may also be expressed in terms of Rome as particular place as a counterpart to Rome as universal idea – was also achieved by ‘translating’ the sacred topography of post-Tridentine Rome onto its heroic, early Christian prototype. It is surely no coincidence that a particularly powerful act of such spatio-temporal translation was carried out by Gregory Martin, the main translator of the Douai-Rheims Bible, the Roman Catholic translation of the Vulgate into English. Martin, who had spent eighteen months in Rome between December 1576 and June 1578, was also author of Roma sancta, which seemed on the surface a conventional enough pilgrim’s guide to the Eternal City: its title harked back to the perennial genre of the mirabilia urbis Romae.48 However, for Martin, Rome was an agent of the ultimate expression of translation in the Europe in the age of reformations: conversion. Although Roma sancta was to remain unpublished in its full form until 1969, extracts from it were published in English c.1597 – rather than the 1583 on its title page – under the title A treatyse of Christian peregrination.49 Here, as in the full version, Martin liberally studded his text with quotations from the early Church fathers. One of Martin’s favourite writers was the one-time archbishop of Constantinople, the fourth-century St John Chrysostom (c.347–407) whose letter to the Romans – Chrysostom here was consciously modelling himself on St Paul – Martin quotes at some length, before saying: As often as I read it, I am ready to melte for joye. But marke … the cause of his affection towards Rome: to wite the bodies of the Apostles lying there, and why the bodies? Because they carried the markes of the Church. This is it that causeth 48 Gregory Martin, Roma sancta (1581). Now first printed from the Manuscript by G. B. Parks (Rome, 1969). 49 A treatyse of Chris[ti]an peregrination, w[rit]ten by M. Gregory Martin Licentiate and late reader of divinitie in the Englishe coleadge of Remes. Whereunto is adioined certen epistles written by him to sundrye his frendes ([Paris, 1583]). Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 Pilgrimage. This consideration, for the love of Christ and the honour of him, inflamed the Godly father and all the best Christians in the Primitive Church to love sacred monuments, to be desirous to see them, to go farre and neere unto them, to touch, to kisse, to licke them, to weep in the place, to concieve such a lyvely imagination of things done there by Christ and his saynts and withall such a sensible feeling of heavenly devotion that it was a payne to remove from thence, a death to dwell farre of[f].50 Martin’s Treatyse of Christian Peregrination was published together with several letters including one to his sisters: ‘married to Protestants and themselves trained up in heresy’. In this context, I do not think it is too far-fetched to argue that the space and place of Rome – and the emotion the city evoked in the mind of the devout, orthodox Catholic – was considered by Martin to be a persuasive agent of conversion. Such a notion is reinforced by the following passage from Roma sancta: And if any where a man stand nigh to these tombes, he perceaveth his sence by and by ravished with this sayd force, for the sight of the coffin entring into the hart, pearceth it, stirreth it up, and moveth it in such a maner, as if he that lyeth there dead, did pray with us, and were visibly present to be seen.51 For Martin, meditation on material remains which had borne witness to the most heroic age of Christian history could transport a person with the right interior disposition to early Christian Rome itself, thus collapsing time and space. V 50 Ibid., unfoliated (emphasis added). 51 Martin, Roma sancta, 27. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 But what of the ‘little Romes’ which emerged in the wake of the conquistadores from Cartagena to Cuzco, Mexico to Manila: those settlements which, by means of Roman relics and rituals, identified themselves closely with the New Jerusalem on the Tiber? One was located in the indigenous settlement of Carabuco, on the shores of Lake Titicaca, in the Spanish colony of Audiencia de Charcas, which fell within the viceroyalty of Peru (modern Bolivia). Specific interest focuses on the church’s baptistery, whose fresco decorations were commissioned by the local cacique (native chief), Agustín Siñani, after the partial collapse of the building in 1763.52 As a counterpart to the baptism of Christ, there is a depiction of the baptism of Agustín’s ancestor, Fernando, who was the first in his line to be baptized and was shown resplendent in his Inca tunic, the uncu. In the foreground is a crown which rests on a cushion in front of him. This detail is picked up in the fresco the opposite wall which shows the emperor Constantine being baptized by Pope Sylvester, who is easily identifiable wearing the papal tiara. According to Hiroshige Okada, the model for this pair of compositions was most probably an engraving of the design by Rubens for the scene of Constantine’s baptism, part of a six-piece set of tapestries depicting the story of Constantine (woven in Paris 1623–7) and given by Louis XIII of France, son of Henry IV (who in the light of his conversion(s) to Catholicism was sometimes referred to by contemporaries as ‘a second Constantine’), to Cardinal Francesco Barberini, nephew of Urban VIII (1623–44).53 Both scenes are framed by 52 It has not been possible to secure permission to reproduce these images, and I refer the reader to H. Okada, ‘Mural Painting in the Viceroyalty of Peru’, in Luisa Alcalá and Jonathan Brown, eds, Painting in Latin America, 1550–1820 (New Haven, CT, and London, 2014), 403–35, at 428–9 (figs 21, 22). There are also black and white reproductions as plates 2 and 3 in Hiroshige Okada, ‘“Golden compasses” on the Shores of Lake Titicaca: The Appropriation of European Visual Culture and the Patronage of Art by an indigenous Cacique in the colonial Andes’, Memories [sic] of the Graduate School of Letters, Osaka University 51 (2011), 87–111, at 90, online at: <http://ir.library.osaka- u.ac.jp/dspace/handle/11094/10414>, last accessed 29 May 2016. 53 Now in the Museum of Art, Philadelphia, accession number 1958–78-4. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 spiral, corkscrew columns which not only border the scene itself but are also deployed elsewhere in the baptistery’s decoration. These allude to the columns from the Temple of Solomon, a set of which, so a tradition dating from the twelfth or thirteenth centuries ran, Constantine had transported from Jerusalem to decorate the high altar and presbytery of the Old St Peter’s.54 The Solomonic column had become a prominent feature of the Latin American baroque owing, originally, to the associations made by the first wave of mendicant missionaries of the Americas with the lands of Ophir and Tarshish, where the mines of Solomon were located.55 In the seventeenth century Bernini had carefully relocated them in pairs to frame several of the basilica’s most precious relics, including the Veronica and pieces from the holy lance and the cross of Christ at the crossing of the new St Peter’s. Bernini then re-used the spiral column motif on a spectacular scale in the baldacchino over the tomb of St Peter, thereby dramatically reasserting the translation of the true religion from Jerusalem to Rome. Okada has argued that this pairing of Constantine with the Incan cacique was quite possibly inspired by the late sixteenth-century Los comentarios reales de los Incas (Lisbon, 1609), composed by the mestizo humanist Garcilaso de la Vega (1539–1616), son of a Spanish conquistador and an Inca princess.56 Garcilaso had made a direct comparison of the Inca and Roman empires, referring to Cuzco as ‘another Rome’ and casting the Inca indigenous as ‘new gentiles’ (nuevos gentiles) whose prototype was the Romans or ‘old 54 The columns were actually from Greece and arrived in two stages, in the fourth and the eighth centuries. Dale Kinney suggests that ‘[t]he origin of the legend probably had something to do with a widespread interest in supposedly Solomonic structures awakened by the Crusades, and with the related vogue for knotted columns’: ‘Spolia’, in William Tronzo, ed., St Peter’s in the Vatican (Cambridge, 2005), 16–47, at 36. 55 Jaime Lara, ‘Church Interior’, in Evonne Levy and Kenneth Mills, eds, Lexicon of the Hispanic Baroque: Transatlantic exchange and Transformation (Austin, TX, 2013), 47–50, at 48. 56 Okada, ‘“Golden compasses”’, 101. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 gentiles’ (antiquos gentiles).57 In this way the significance of the conversion of the Inca Empire to Christianity was paired – and by implication placed on a par with – that of the Roman Empire over a thousand years earlier.58 However, even more important than such typological references is the evidence for the means by which Christianity was ‘translated’ from the Old to New Worlds offered by the tabernacle holding the host over the high altar of the small church dedicated to St James the Great in the hamlet of Coporaque, some two hundred kilometres west of Lake Titacaca in Peru. This tabernacle, placed in a church even humbler than that in Carabuco, reproduces the tabernacle from the high altar of the Duomo of Milan dating from 1561 (Figs 3a, 3b). It is immediately apparent that both high altars – albeit on very different scales – have been specifically designed to provide a secure and prominent place for the display and storage of the consecrated, transubstantiated host which, owing to its significance as, ultimately, the most important symbol of what made post-Reformation Roman Catholicism distinctive, became the signifier of embattled orthodoxy. This can be seen from Carlo Borromeo’s ‘Instructions for the Building and Outfitting of Churches’ (1577), contained in the 1583 edition of the Acts of the Milanese Church, the most widely diffused ‘handbook’ for bishops showing them how to apply the decrees and canons of the Council of Trent.59 Another prominent and ubiquitous visual detail to be found in even the humblest churches of the Iberian overseas empire is that of the confession box, also an emphatically Borromean innovation The centrality of both these elements of church furniture to the pastoral vision of that pre-eminent model bishop of the Counter-Reformation, Carlo 57 On Garcilaso, see D. Brading, The First America: The Spanish Monarchy, Creole Patriots and the Liberal State, 1492–1867 (Cambridge, 1991), 255–72. There is a complete English translation by H. V. Livermore: Royal Commentaries of the Incas, and General History of Peru, 2 vols (Austin TX, 1965). 58 Okada, ‘“Golden compasses”’, 100–1; cf. idem, ‘Mural Painting’, 428–30. 59 ‘Instructiones fabricae et supellectilis ecclesiasticae’, in Acta ecclesiae mediolanensis (Milan, 1583), fols 177r–211v. For a complete English translation with scholarly commentary, see <http://www.evelynvoelker.com>, accessed 26 October 2016. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 Borromeo, may be seen from their prominent treatment in his handbook for outfitting churches. The Acts of the Milanese Church was no dry collection of synodal legislation but was designed to supply hard pressed, busy prelates with practical advice about how to govern their dioceses, preach sermons, train priests and build and outfit churches. As such it should be considered the practical counterpart to the theory enshrined in the Canons and Decrees of the Council of Trent, the complete set of which had been published in 1564. Its popularity was such that Borromeo’s counterparts as reforming prelates in Central and South America came to consider the archbishop of Milan as their model and prototype. Moreover, at least one near contemporary drew a direct comparison between Borromeo and Toribio de Mogrovejo, archbishop of Lima from 1581 until his death from overwork in 1606, who summoned what historians still consider to have been ‘The Trent of the Americas’, the Third Provincial Council of Lima of 1582–3.60 Just as penance was the master-key of Borromean spirituality, so for the Jesuit José de Acosta (1539/40–1600), one of the four theologians in attendance at the Council of Lima, mutual intelligibility in the confession box between the indigenous penitent and his or her confessor was of paramount importance.61 Acosta is credited with overseeing translation into two of the pre-eminent languages of the former Inca Empire, Quechua and Aymara, of both a short catechism for lay instructors to repeat with their pupils and a longer one for more advanced converts; he also wrote a confession manual and a collection of sermons, which at 60 L. Muñoz, Vida di S. Carlos Borromeo … puesta en nuesta lengua de la historias que del santo escrivieron el doctor Iuan Pedro Guissano [sic], don Carlos Bascapé, Iuan Baptista Possevino, Marco Aurelio Gratarola (Madrid, 1626). For the comparison of the Third Provincial Council of Lima with Trent in importance, see Enrique Dussel, A History of the Church in Latin America (Grand Rapids, MI, 1981), 147; cf. A. de Leon Pinelo, Vida del Illustrissimo i Reverendissimo D. Toribio Alfonso Mogrovejo ([Madrid?], 1653), 77–91. 61 W. De Boer, The Conquest of the Soul: Confession, Discipline and Public Order in Counter- Reformation Milan (Leiden and Boston, MA, 2001), 43–83. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 the specific behest of the Third Council of Lima were to constitute an important pastoral resource in their Quechua and Aymara versions.62 For Acosta, as outlined in his famous missionary manual On procuring the Salvation of the Indians (De procuranda indorum salute), which was already complete by 1576 although it was not published until 1588, after his return to Spain, the sine qua non of the effectiveness of the missions was the capacity of the missionaries to communicate in the Indians’ own languages:63 ‘For me, the priest that accepts the office of párocco without knowing the language of the Indians – and I have believed this for a long time and I keep on affirming it – that person is just ruining his soul.’64 Acosta went on to explain how this was true in the very basic sense that ‘if he does not know what the Indian is confessing’, a priest could not administer the sacrament of 62 Catecismo en la lengua española y quechua ordenado por autoridad del concilio de Lima en el año 1583; Confessionario para los curas de indios con la instrucion contra sus ritos y exhortacion para ayudar a bien morir, y summa de sus [p]rivilegios y forma de impedimentos del matrimonio. Compuesta y traduzido en las lenguas Quechua y Aymara. Para autoridad del Concilio provincial de Lima del año 1583 (Lima, 1585); Tercero catechismo y esposicion de la doctrina christiana por sermones, para que los curas y otros ministros prediquen y enseñen a los Indios y a las demas personas, conforme a lo que e nel sancto Concilio Provincial de Lima se profeyo (Lima, 1585). These are now all available to download at: <https://www.wdl.org/es/item/13746/>, last accessed 29 May 2016. 63 ‘Firstly, we must also acquire some use of the language, or, if not, preach through a faithful interpreter, if there is such a thing’. All subsequent references are to José de Acosta, De procuranda indorum salute, ed. and transl. G. Stewart McIntosh, 2 vols (Tayport, 1996), 1: 92 (bk 2, ch. 17); cf. ibid. 29–30 (bk 1, ch. 9): ‘Fear of the difficulty of the language ought not to hinder the propagation of the gospel’. 64 Ibid. 2: 18 (bk 4, ch. 7); cf. ibid. 2: 137–8 (bk 6, ch. 13): ‘Skill in the Indian language is needed to hear confession’. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 penance; ‘nor will the Indian be able to understand what is commanded of him’.65 Acosta went on to praise the Incas for their ‘wisest’ use of the device of a general language (lengua general) of Quechua which was spoken and understood, at least by the elite if not by the common people, throughout the extensive lands of their empire.66 However, for him, the most effective way to negotiate what he referred to as the ‘veritable jungle of languages’ (idiomatum tam multiplex sylva sit) was to make cautious yet concerted use of the (at least) bilingual offspring of Spanish fathers and Indian mothers, the mestizos.67 But such a strategy was far from foolproof. Attempts to identify a ‘general language’ in which to communicate the teaching of Christian doctrine were inevitably the imperfect, artificial fruit of compromise. Nowhere can this be seen more clearly than in the case of New Granada. Unlike New Spain and Peru, where the political hegemony of the Aztec and Inca empires made the adoption of Nahuatl and Quechua, respectively, practical and reasonably effective (if somewhat oversimplified) options, the absence of a correspondingly dominant indigenous power in New Granada resulted in an outcome which was singularly unsatisfactory. The only candidate for the status of ‘general language’ was that referred to in contemporary sources as ‘Mosca’ and known today by the names of ‘Muisca’ or ‘Chibcha’. However, it was only spoken in the immediate 65 Cf. R. Vargas Ugarte, Concilios Limensis (1551–1772), 3 vols (Lima, 1951–4), 1: 310 (actio 5, cap. 3). 66 Acosta, De procuranda, ed. and transl. McIntosh, 2: 21 (bk 4, ch. 8). For the wider picture, see now the special issue: ‘Langues indiennes et empire dans l’Amérique du Sud colonial / Lenguas indígenas e imperio en la América del Sur colonial’, Mėlanges de la Casa de Velázquez n.s. 45/1 (2015), 9–151. 67 Acosta, De procuranda, ed. and transl. McIntosh, 2: 21–2 (bk 4, ch. 8); cf. idem, De natura novi orbis libri duo et de promulgatione Evangelii apud barbaros, sive de procuranda indorum salute, (Salamanca, 1588), 379. Notwithstanding such an endorsement, the Jesuits stopped admitting mestizos as early as 1576, the very year when Acosta finished De procuranda, and the 1582 provincial congregation voted for a definitive ban: cf. A. Durston, Pastoral Quechua: The History of Christian Translation in Colonial Peru, 1550–1650 (Notre Dame, IN, 2007), 83. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 environs of Santafé. As a solution to this fragmented linguistic landscape the city’s archbishop, Zapata de Cárdenas, author of the first vernacular (Castilian) catechism for New Granada in 1576, attempted – in the words of Juan Cobo Betancourt – ‘to ordain the secular church [of New Granada] out of its crisis’ by creating some 124 priests to send to indigenous parishes; of these, no fewer than twenty-two were mestizos and thirty-nine criollos.68 Although it was to be reasonably expected that the mestizo priests would be bilingual and that their creole counterparts might have at least a basic grasp of the indigenous tongue of the community in which they had grown up, the question was ‘which language’? As the archbishop himself admitted: ‘in this kingdom every valley or province has a different one, and it is not like Peru and New Spain, where there are different languages but one general language, which is used throughout the land’.69 The eventual solution, if this word is appropriate for such an untidy and contingent process, was a simple one, according to Cobo Betancourt. His painstaking examination of the remaining records from Archbishop Arias de Ugarte’s marathon five-year visitation of his province (1619–24) strongly suggests that local priests were expected to translate the catechetical material which had been issued to them – that is, that approved by the Third Council of Lima, but only in Castilian – into the language of their parishioners.70 Acosta insisted that the Indian languages, though multiple, were not that difficult to learn when compared to, say, Hebrew, or even Latin and Greek. However, he was not blind to their qualities: 68 Juan F. Cobo Betancourt, ‘Colonialism in the Periphery: Spanish Linguistic Policy in New Granada c.1574–1625’, Colonial Latin American Review 23 (2014), 118–42, at 129. 69 Ibid. 132. 70 Ibid. 136–7. Recent work on the christianization of Central America emphasizes the role of indigenous scribes, authors and consumers in the creative adaptation of catechisms and confession manuals: see in particular Mark Z. Christensen, Nahua and Maya Catholicisms: texts and Religion in Colonial Central Mexico and Yucatan (Stanford, CA, 2013); idem, Translated Christianities: Nahua and Maya Religious Texts (University Park, PA, 2014). Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 Yet in their uncultured barbarity they have some ways of saying things that are so beautiful and elegant, and other expressions that are so admirably concise that they say many things in one, that give us such delight, and when we wish to express in Latin or in Spanish all the power of one of these words we would have to employ many and yet we would scarcely cover all the meaning.71 However, when it came to spiritual or philosophical matters, the Indians’ languages were found wanting, so that, in Acosta’s opinion, it did not make sense to attempt to translate such key Christian concepts as ‘faith, cross, angel, virginity and marriage’, which should rather be left in Spanish.72 Here Acosta might well have had in mind the initial error made just a few decades earlier by his confrère Francis Xavier in Japan where, misadvised by his guide and interpreter, the Japanese pirate Anjiro, the Jesuit missionary had first used the Japanese concept Dainichi, the pantheistic deity revered by the Buddhist Shingon sect, to translate ‘God’ before realizing his error and reverting to the use of Latin, or at least to Latinate words, slightly adapted so as to work better when spoken by the Japanese.73 71 ‘Iam vero in illa sua veluti inculta barbarie adeo pulchros, adeo elegantes idiomatismos habet formulasque dicendi mirabili brevitate multa complexas ut delectet vehementer quorum unius vocis vim si Latinus, Hispanus exprimere velit, pluribus ipse vix possit’: Acosta, De natura novi orbis libri duo… et de procuranda indorum salute, 382–3. 72 Acosta, De procuranda, ed. and transl. McIntosh, 2: 25 (bk 4, ch. 9); cf. the challenge facing Jesuit missionaries working among the Iroquois who were trying to communicate ideas of the Christian soul and spirit, as discussed in the introduction to J. M. Steckley, ed. and transl., De Religione: telling the seventeenth-century Jesuit story in Huron to the Iroquois (Norman OH, 2004), in particular 24–45. 73 Joan-Pau Rubiés, ‘Real and Imaginary dialogues in the Jesuit Mission of Sixteenth-century Japan’, Journal of the Economic and Social History of the Orient 55 (2012), 447–94; cf. in this volume, idem, ‘Ethnography and Cultural Translation in the Early Modern Missions’, 000–00, at 000. See also M. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 A more difficult challenge to the efficacy of missionary work, Acosta believed, was provided by the ‘most truly barbarous’ pronunciation characteristic of many Indian tongues which meant that their speakers ‘appeared to be gargling in their throats rather than talking’.74 The key thing here was to overcome any sense of shame and embarrassment when attempting to deliver sermons in the Indian languages. As Acosta pithily put it: ‘we have to make many mistakes to learn not to make any mistakes’.75 He concluded this chapter with an emphasis on the importance of simplicity and repetition, a strategy that he noted had been used with particular effectiveness by Francis Xavier with the simple fisherfolk of the Malabar coast, and with an evocation of a practice he believed to have been widespread in the primitive Church, that of reading out sermons in native tongues which had been written by others but which were accompanied by guidance so as to ensure that the correct intonation and pronunciation were employed.76 The importance of correct pronunciation to the accurate communication of meaning was also an obsession of the Jesuit Horacio Carochi, the author of what is still the most comprehensive grammar of the Mexica language of Nahuatl, published in 1645: Cooper, Rodriguez the Interpreter: An Early Jesuit in Japan and China (New York and Tokyo, 1974), 284–5. 74 Acosta, De procuranda, ed. and transl. McIntosh, 2: 24–5 (bk 4, ch. 9). 75 ‘Saepe et audacter errandum, ut aliquando non erretur’: ibid. 2: 25 (bk 4, ch. 9); cf. Acosta, De natura novi orbis libri duo… et de procuranda indorum salute, 384. 76 Acosta, De procuranda, ed. and transl. McIntosh, 2: 26 (bk 4, ch. 9); cf. a letter dated Vembar, 31 October 1548, from the Jesuit missionary and author of the first Tamil grammar, Arte da Lingua Malabar (1549), Henrique Henriques, to Ignatius Loyola and his companions, which explains how since he was without an interpreter he relied on a member of his Tamil congregation to repeat his sermon, which he had just attempted to deliver in the local language, so that its content was better understood: ‘digo las palabras en la misma lengua Malavar, y hago que las torne a dezir otro, que es como topaz [sic], para que todos las entendien mejor’: J. Wicki, ed., Documenta Indica (1540–97), 18 vols (Rome, 1948–88), 1: 276–300, at 286–7 (letter 45). Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 And let no one think that it matters little whether one does or does not take care with these accents and with the length of the syllables, because aside from the fact that a badly pronounced language greatly offends hearers, in this one there will be mistakes at every step and one thing will be said for another, if there is neglect with the pronunciation.77 VI But what does this slow, somewhat messy and far from conclusive attempt to translate the Christian message to at least two of the four parts of the then known world during the early modern period add up to? According to the Gambia-born former Muslim, now Roman Catholic, Lamin Sanneh (b. 1942), it has been precisely the ‘triumph of the translatability’ of Christianity, by means of which indigenous peoples have been able to appropriate the Bible in myriad forms and make it work for them, that has made it the world religion that we have today.78 However, Sanneh’s uplifting narrative has its origins in a distinctly nostalgic, ultimately essentialist treatment of ‘African Christianity’ and its indigenous agency, somehow mysteriously independent of extra-continental influence. As Joel Cabrita points out, such a model singularly fails to account for the South African (Ibandia Iama) Nazaretha Church, founded in 1910 and today with over four million members, which, deeply influenced by transnational Evangelical literary culture (with North American rather than African roots), has taken upon itself the task of writing further scriptures – a new Bible if you like – which 77 H. Carochi, Grammar of the Mexican Language with an Explanation of its Adverbs (1645), ed. and transl. James Lockhart (Stanford, CA, 2001), 25 (ch. 1, section 3). 78 Lamin Sanneh, Translating the Message: The Missionary Impact on Culture, 2nd edn (Maryknoll, NY, 2009). Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 recount the miraculous deeds of its founding prophet, Isaiah Shembe (1865?–1935).79 Furthermore, recent work on networks of carriers of religion across the globe: whether it be the trade diaspora of Sephardic Jewish merchants, Sufi brotherhoods in South Asia or members of the Society of Jesus, has ‘overturn[ed] the stereotype of a lone missionary or remote merchant carting his beliefs overseas by highlighting the role of solid but imperfect networks tied together by movement and faith’.80 These were networks, furthermore, that were more often than not regional and unmediated by a single centre; as Luke Clossey has demonstrated in his book on the global Jesuit mission, which traces a vector of movement of missionaries from Germany to China via Mexico: here Rome was not so much a place as a state of mind.81 I would therefore like to close this essay on the theme of translation in an age of reformations with a regrettably all too brief consideration of an object which, owing to the almost complete absence of contemporary documentation, resolutely resists being pinned down geographically. It is very small, measuring just over nine centimetres in height and little more than five in breadth. Made of (Indian or African, but possibly Siamese or Cambodian) ivory, it was carved sometime in the seventeenth century, copying a lost Flemish prototype, (more likely based on an engraving originating in Antwerp rather than an ivory original), probably on mainland China near Macau (although Manila is another possible candidate), by 79 Joel Cabrita, Text and Authority in the South African Nazaretha Church (Cambridge, 2015); cf., in this volume, eadem, ‘Revisiting “Translatability” and African Christianity: The Case of the Christian Catholic Apostolic Church in Zion’, 000–00. 80 Karin Veléz, Sebastian Prange and Luke Clossey, ‘Religious Ideas in Motion’, in Douglas Northrop, ed., A Companion to World History (Oxford and Malden, MA, 2012), 352–64, at 357; cf. Francesca Trivellato, The Familiarity of Strangers: The Sephardic Diaspora, Livorno, and Cross-Cultural Trade in the Early Modern Period (New Haven, CT, and London, 2009); Carl Ernst and Bruce Lawrence, Sufi Martyrs of Love: The Chishti Order in South Asia and beyond (New York and Basingstoke, 2002); Luke Clossey, Salvation and Globalization in the Early Jesuit Missions (Cambridge, 2008). 81 Clossey, Salvation and Globalization. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 quite possibly unconverted Chinese craftsmen specifically for an overseas market.82 Having travelled first across the Pacific on a Spanish galleon from Manila to Acapulco, where it might have been bought by a Brazil-based merchant before crossing the Atlantic at some unspecified time, it ended up being auctioned in Lisbon, where it was bought recently by a private collector. It depicts a near naked St Jerome in the desert kneeling before and holding a cross with Christ crucified upon it. Immediately before the saint is a mound on which a skull has been prominently placed and before which sits his attribute, a tame lion. The whole scene is overseen by God the Father who blesses both the scene below and the viewer (Fig. 4). This small, exquisitely portable object of devotion is a fitting one with which to bring this selective survey of the global circulation of Roman Catholicism in the early modern period to a close, since it serves to remind us that, for all its slow, incomplete and halting nature, it was above all the portability (and tradability) of such devotional objects – in other words, its material rather than linguistic translatability – that enabled Roman Catholicism to become the first world religion. Fig. 1: Cornelis Bloemart after Jan Miel, frontispiece to Daniello Bartoli, Della vita e dell’Istituto di S. Ignatio, fondatore della Compagnia di Gesù (Rome, 1659). Reproduced by courtesy of the Archivium Romanum Societatis Iesu. Fig. 2: Stefano Du Pérac (attrib.), Le sette chiese di Roma (Rome, 1575), etching 39.7 x 50.9 cm. Reproduced courtesy of the Metropolitan Museum, New York, Rogers Fund, Accession number 41.72 (1.12) www.metmuseum.org Fig. 3a: Interior of Santiago Apostol Coporacque, ©Hans Roegele, architect. 82 Gauvin Bailey, ‘Translation and Metamorphosis in the Catholic Ivories of China, Japan and the Philippines, 1561–1800’, in idem, J.-M. Massing and N. Vassallo e Silva, Marfins no Império Português / Ivories in the Portuguese Empire (Lisbon, 2013), 243–82; the illustration of St Jerome is on page 298. Studies in Church History 53 (2017), ©Ecclesiastical History Society 2017 Fig. 3b: High Altar Tabernacle of Duomo of Milan on right, ©Richard Schofield, architectural historian. Fig. 4: Plaque with St Jerome, Macao, China, 17th century, Ivory, 13.5 x 8.5 cm. Cobral Moncada Leilões, Auction 139, lot 421. Reproduced by courtesy of Cobral Moncada Leilões – Art Auctioneers, Lisbon, Portugal www.cml.pt 
work_rpskhcjnwze7ra6nvdhuifjqey	----	APPENDIX Proceedings or the Thirty-ninth Meeting of the Modern Language Association of America held on the Invitation of The University of Pennsylvania at Philadelphia, Pennsylvania, December 28, 29, 30, 1922 Minutes of the Twenty-seventh Annual Meeting of the Central Division of the Association HELD AT Chicago, Illinois December 28, 29, 30, 1922 Minutes of the Twenty-fourth Annual Meeting of THE Philological Association of the Pacific Coast HELD AT San Francisco, California, December 1 and 2, 1922 Address by the Chairman of the Central Division William A. Nitze, “Modern Language Scholarship: an Enquiry.” “The Market for the Scholarly Book,” By Dr. Alexander Green “Author vs. Publisher,” By Professor James Geddes, Jr. THE MODERN LANGUAGE ASSOCIATION OF AMERICA The thirty-ninth meeting of the Modern Language Association of America was held under the auspices of the University of Pennsylvania at Philadelphia, December 28, 29, 30, 1922. All the sessions were held in the buildings of the University of Pennsylvania. FIRST SESSION, THURSDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 28 The first session of the Association was devoted to Group Meetings, which were held in two Divisions, those of the First Division from 9:30 until 11 o’clock, and of the Second from 11:30 until 1 o’clock. FIRST DIVISION 9:30 A. M. {General Topics III) General Problems in ^Esthetics, Chairman, Professor Fred N. Scott. Mr. F. W. Peterson (University of Michigan) was elected Secretary of the Group. The following papers were read and discussed: 1. “Art for Art’s Sake,” by Professor Rose F. Egan. 2. “The Laws of Sentence and Paragraph Length,” by Professor Theodore T. Stenberg. 3. “The Concept of Utility in Art,” by Dr. Charles E. Whitmore. [See “Two Notes on Esthetics” in Journal of Philosophy for December 21, 1922.] On account of his intention of being abroad next year, Professor Scott declined re-election as chairman. Sixteen persons were present. Fred N. Scott, Chairman. {Comparative Literature II) Popular Literature. Chairman, Professor Arthur Beatty. The following papers were read and discussed informally: 1. “The Ballad Collection of Anthony Wood,” by Professor Hyder E. Rollins. 2. “The Conditions of Ballad Making,” by Professor G. H. Gerould. 3. “The Term ‘Communal’ and Folk-Song,” by Professor Louise Pound. It was decided to continue the Group and to prepare a program for the meeting at Ann Arbor. Professor Pound was elected Chairman for the coming year with the power to appoint a Secretary. Arthur Beatty, Chairman. (English I) Middle English Language. Chairman, Professor Howard R. Patch. A paper entitled “An Essay on Middle English Projects” was presented by Professor 0. F. Emerson. The paper was discussed by Professors Samuel Moore, Wm. E. Mead, and Dr. Henry B. Hinckley. Particular interest was expressed in the project of a Middle English dictionary and on the motion of Professor Moore it was voted to appoint a committee to cooperate in the project and in particular to make suggestions concerning the plan of the proposed dictionary. The Chairman ap­ pointed as this committee, Professors 0. F. Emerson (Chair­ man), Thomas A. Knott, R. J. Menner, Samuel Moore, James F. Royster, and J. S. P. Tatlock. A paper on “Problems and Methods in the Investigation in Early English Morphology” was read by Professor Samuel Moore and discussed by Professors Emerson, Menner and the Chairman. It was voted that the present officers of the Group be continued. Robert J. Menner, Secretary. (English VI) Philosophy and Literature in the Classical Period. Chairman, Professor James W. Tupper. Pro­ fessor Percy H. Houston having resigned the Secretary­ ship, Professor Henry M. Dargan was appointed Acting Secretary. The following papers were read: 1. “The Uses of Philosophy in the Study of Neo-Classical Literature,” by Professor F. B. Kaye. 2. “Dryden’s Miscellany as a Barometer of the Tastes and Interests in the Classical Period,” by Professor R. D. Havens. 3. “A Change in Prepossession towards a Study of the Eighteenth Century,” by Professor R. H. Griffith. The Chairman requested all those present at the meeting to hand their names to the Acting Secretary together with lists of topics in which they were specially interested, so that a bulletin might be prepared and sent to members of the Group showing the range of interests and the research in progress in this field. In the discussion that followed, it was moved, by Professor Ronald Crane, and carried: That philosophic ideas and aspects in literature between 1660 and 1750 be regarded as the dominant interest in the joint activities of the Group. This resolution was interpreted as a means of crystallizing the general feeling of the membership in favor of a definite program for the work of the Group as a whole; it was pointed out, however, that the resolution was not so phrased as to limit the natural scope of research in the period or to restrict the topics for presentation at future meetings. It was voted that the present officers of the Group be con­ tinued, with the duty of preparing bulletins and arranging the programme. H. M. Dargan, Acting Secretary. {English X) The Study of Contemporary Literature. No report of the meeting of this Group has been received. {French IV) Nineteenth Century French Literature. Chair­ man, Professor Christian Gauss. Professor Geoffroy Atkinson was appointed Secretary. The following papers were presented: 1. “What is Realism?” by Professor Olin H. Moore. 2. “The Balzac Collection at Chantilly,” by Dr. Walter S. Hastings. Dr. Hastings placed a complete copy of the catalogue of the Lovenjoul Balzac Collection at the disposal of the members of the Group. The attendance was in the neighborhood of sixty. Pro­ fessor Gilbert Chinard was elected Chairman for the coming year. Christian Gauss, Chairman. (German II) New Work on Goethe. Chairman, Gustav Gruener. The following papers were read: 1. “An Ovidian Prototype of a Character in Wilhelm Meister,” by Dr. F. Stanton Cawley (Harvard University). 2. “Faustiana in the Yale University Library,” by Dr. William A. Speck, Curator of the Yale University Library. 3. “Konrat Ziegler’s Gedanken fiber Faust II," by Professor J. F. L. Raschen. 4. “Der Streit fur und wider das Joseph-Gedicht,” by Professor Carl F. Schreiber. The Group was unusually well attended. Professor J. F. L. Raschen was appointed Chairman and Professor Schreiber was continued as Secretary for the coming year. Carl F. Schreiber, Secretary. SECOND DIVISION, 11:30 A. M. (General Topics I) Poetic Form (Metrics). Chairman, Professor Morris W. Croll, Princeton University. Professor Alden described a method of study by which he thinks that it is possible to arrive at some laws governing the relation of phrasal division and metrical division. Prof. Kenyon of Hiram College read a paper on the word-accents and how they affect the rhythm of verse. Prof. A. R. Morris of Michigan reported the results of his laboratory studies in the relation of time, pitch, and stress in verse- rhythm. Dr. Henry Savage of Princeton presented an ab­ stract of Professor Leonard’s views concerning the rhythmic law of the long alliterative line in Anglo-Saxon and Middle- English. The discussion of all these papers was unfortunately- truncated by time-limitations. It was generally agreed that the program for next year should consist of the discussion of the discussion of a single topic of proper magnitude. The Chairman reported the result of the study of metrical notation ordered last year. It was moved and unanimously ordered that the following resolution be presented to the Association: That a committee of five be appointed by the Association to consider the present state of metrical notation, and to recommend, if possible, a single uniform method of notation, or, if necessary, two alternative methods, for use in books and schools. This resolution was presented at the Thursday afternoon session of the Association and adopted without dissent. The number in attendance was forty-five. The present chairman was re-elected and authorized to prepare the pro- gram for next year. w chairnan. (English IV) New Work on Shakespeare. Chairman, Pro­ fessor Lewis F. Mott. A paper, “M. Abel Lefranc’s Recent Work on Shaks- spere,” was presented by Professor Oscar J. Campbell. Professor Ashley H. Thorndike discussed informally “Recent Textual Theories,” and Professor Tucker Brooke discussed “Shakspere’s Plots.” Professor Tucker Brooke was appointed Chairman for the coming year. Lewis F. Mott, Chairman. (English VII) Literary Tendencies in the Second Half of the xvnith Century. Chairman, Professor R. S. Crane; Secretary, Professor John W. Draper. The following papers were read, all dealing with the sources, methods, and general results of investigations now in progress: E. A. Aldrich, “Scottish Literary Centers in the later xvnith Century”; Paul Kaufman, “The Rise and Influence of the Conception of ‘Original Genius’”; B. S. Allen, “Some Relations between Literature and the Theory of Design in the later xvmth Century.” Professor J. L. Lowes made a vigorous plea for a more active study of the periodicals of the later xvmth century especially from the point of view of their bearing on the preparation for Romanticism. In the course of the discussion which followed Professor F. B. Kaye announced that he is engaged, in collaboration with the Chairman of the group, in the preparation of a bibliography of English and European periodicals to the end of the xvmth century. It was voted that the present officers be continued for another year. The Chairman announced that he proposed to issue two further numbers of the group Bulletin during the coming year, and that copies would be sent to any persons who would inform him of their desire to receive them. R. S. Crane, Chairman. {French II) French Mediaeval Literature. Chairman, Professor George L. Hamilton. A paper on “The Possibilities and Limitations in the Construction of Manuscripts Themes,” by Professor Charles H. Livingston was presented. The paper was discussed by Professors Raymond Weeks, E. C. Armstrong, D. S. Blond- heim and the Chairman. Professor D. S. Blondheim was elected Chairman for the coming year. George L. Hamilton, Chairman. {German III) German Literature from a Social Point of View. Chairman, Professor Albert B. Faust. Four carefully prepared papers were read, as follows: 1. “German Literature from the Point of View of Soci­ ology,” by Professor Camillo von Klenze. 2. “Social Questions in German Literature of the xvmth Century, by Dr. Edwin H. Zeydel. 3. “Hebbel’s Conception of the Drama as a Function of Social Self Consciousness,” by Professor T. Moody Camp­ bell. 4. “Heyse and ^Esthetic Indifference toward the Social Question,” by Professor McBurney Mitchell. In the succeeding discussion, participated in to the limit of time by a large attendance, additional bibliography was presented and the following topics were introduced and debated: (1) “Social conditions as reflected in the works of Gerhart Hauptmann and modern authors,” (2) “The antithesis between the social point of view and the purely artistic point of view of literature.” The business of providing for the next year’s meeting of the Group was postponed. Albert B. Faust, Chairman. (Slavonic I) Slavonic Languages and Literatures. Chairman, Dr. Clarence A. Manning. This Group met for the purposes of organization; it is the first attempt to organize Slavonic scholars of this country as a component part of one of the American Learned Societies. There was, unfortunately, a small attendance, but the Chairman announced that he had received assurances of support from Professors George R. Noyes (University of California), Samuel N. Harper (University of Chicago), and other Slavonic scholars, who were unable to be present. It was voted to continue the Group in the expectation that sufficient membership would be secured to justify its perma­ nent organization. Clarence A. Manning, Chairman. (Spanish II} Spanish Literature since the Renaissance. Chairman, Professor J. P. W. Crawford. A paper on “The ‘Who’s Who’ in poetry of the xvith century” was read by Professor R. Hayward Keniston and was discussed by Professors Crawford, Solalinde, and Marden. It was voted that the Group be continued and that the subject for the coining year be in the field of the Golden Age. It was voted that Professor Keniston be the representative of the Group for next year and that he arrange the program in consultation with the Group representative of the Central Division. There were thirty-six persons in attendance. Louis Imbert, Secretary. At one o’clock the members of the Association were the guests of the University of Pennsylvania at a luncheon given in Houston Hall. SECOND SESSION, THURSDAY AFTERNOON, DECEMBER 28 AUDITORIUM, HOUSTON HALL The Association was called to order by the President, Professor Raymond Weeks, at 2:40 p. m. The Association was welcomed to Philadelphia by Dr. Josiah H. Penniman, Provost of the University of Pennsylvania. The Secretary of the Association, Professor Carleton Brown, presented as his formal report Vol. xxxvii of the Publications of the Association. He called attention to the fact that during the year the number of pages in the Publica­ tions devoted to papers amounted to 739, an increase of 72 over the preceding year. The membership of the Association had also shown a gratifying increase: as compared with the 1649 members reported at Baltimore the number on the roll at the date of this report was 1906, and in addition twenty other persons had paid in membership fees to date from January 1, 1923. The Secretary also announced that Professor Alexander Hohlfeld, one of the Trustees of the Permanent Fund, had resigned his office, and that the Executive Council had elected as his successor Professor George H. Nettleton, Acting President of Vassar College. It was voted to accept the Secretary’s report. The following report was submitted on behalf of the Trustees of the Permanent Fund by Mr. LeRoy E. Kimball, Managing Trustee: REPORT OF THE TRUSTEES OF THE PERMANENT FUND FOR THE YEAR ENDING DECEMBER, 27, 1922 Receipts Balance with the Central Trust Company, Cambridge, Mass., as of December 27, 1921.................................... $ 763.62 Interest received from the Central Trust Company for the period ending December 31, 1921.......................... 14.37 Interest received from the Central Trust Company for the period ending June 30, 1922.................................... 19.08 Cash contra for capital account........................................ 16.00 Life Membership payments from seventeen members received from the Treasurer........................................... S60.00 November 15, 1922 interest on $8,300. Liberty Bonds at 4J4%............................................................................ 176.36 Interest received from the Guaranty Trust Company for the period ending November 30, 1922.......................... 8.87 Total.......................................................................................$1,558.30 Disbursements and Balances To Carleton Brown, Treasurer, Central Trust Company interest payments............................................................ $ United States Trust Company of New York for the pur­ chase of $550.00 Fourth 4J4% Liberty Bonds due 1938................................................................................... Guaranty Trust Company interest................................... Liberty Bond Interest......................................................... Uninvested funds in the hands of the United States Trust Company................................................................ Deposit with the Central Trust Company...................... Total....................................................................................... $1,558.30 Permanent Fund $8,300. United States Second L. L. Bonds 4J4% Con­ verted due 1942................................................................$7,171.38 $550. United States Fourth L. L. Bonds 4J4% due 1938.................................................................................... Liberty Bond interest converted to capital account.... Uninvested funds with U. S. Trust Company........ ■.... Deposit with the Central Trust Company which will be invested after the interest for the six months ending December 31, 1922 has been earned............................. Total of the endowment account...................................... $8,687.36 33.45 547.42 8.87 176.36 28.58 763.62 547.42 176.36 28.58 763.62 BRIGHT-VON JAGEMANN SPECIAL TRUST FUND Receipts From Carleton Brown, Treasurer...................................................... $5,175.48 Disbursements To the United States Trust Company of New York for the purchase of $5,000. New York Central 5% Bonds due 2013............................................................................$4,912.36 To the United States Trust Company of New York for the purchase of $250. Fourth L. L. 4J4% bonds due 1938.................................................................................... 248.82 Uninvested funds in the hands of the United States Trust Company............................................................... 14.30 Total.......................................................................................$5,175.48 Respectfully submitted, LeRoy E. Kimball, Edward C. Armstrong, George H. Nettleton. The Treasurer of the Association, Professor Carleton Brown, presented the following report: A. RECEIPTS AND EXPENDITURES Receipts Balance on hand December 31, 1921...............................................$ 1,971.15 From members, for 1908-1918........................$ 40.50 it a “ 1919...................... .......... 12.00 u u “ 1920.................................. 65.50 li a “ 1921..................... .......... 322.67 u ll “ 1922.................................. 6,301.63 a a “ 1923...................... .......... 171.00 u u “ 1924...................... .......... 4.00 u Life memberships........................ .......... 560.00 From Libraries for XXXV................ ............ $ 2.70 a u 8 XXXVI.............. ............ 23.75 u u 8 XXXVII............ ............ 370.00 a a 8 XXXVIII.......... ............ 200.70 u a “ XXXIX............... ............ 1.80 u Foreign Subscribers................... ............ 72.90 $7,477.30 “ Sales of Publications............................................... $ 671.85 338.55 “ Sales of Index Volume........................................... 10.90 “ Sale of Committee Reports................................... .50 “ C. Bertram Lewis for typing MS........................ 11.00 “ Sale of List of Members........................................ 1.00 “ Sale of 2-drawer Card Cabinet............................. 4.00 “ Adjustment of overcharge.................................... 1.09 “ Extra Reprints........................................................ 3.78 “ Postage for forwarding.......................................... 1.00 “ Membership fees, M. H. R. A.............................. 8.00 “ Subscriptions to Mod. Lang. Review.................... 33.75 “ Advertisers....... .................................................... 421.00 “ Interest on Current Funds................................... 59.87 “ “ “ Permanent Fund................................ 209.84 “ Contributions to Rotograph Fund....................... 75.00 $11,299.58 Expenditures To Secretary for Salary................................... $ 750.00 “ “ “ Clerical Assistance............... 363.60 “ “ “ Postage.................................. 130.21 “ “ “ Telegrams............................. 8.53 “ “ “ Expressage............................ 18.93 “ “ “ Printing................................. 45.75 “ “ “ Mimeographing.................... 2.75 “ “ “ 4-drawer Card Cabinet.... 16.00 “ “ Supplies................................... 14.25 “ “ Notary fees............................. 2.00 $1,342.02 To Secretary Central Division for salary........................................................$ 100.00 “ expenses attending annual meeting.... 80.95 “ travelling expenses, arranging program. 25.97 “ stenography........................... 20.00 “ envelopes................................ 7.50 “ telegrams................................ 1.70 $ 236.12 To LeRoy E. Kimball, Managing Trustee Life Membership Fees.................................. 560.00 Transferred to Bright-von Jagemann Fund.. 595.47 Transferred to Rotograph Fund..................... 75.00 $1,230.47 To Mary Rhys, for typing MS....................... 11.10 “ “ “ postage, expenses, supplies.. 13.21 “ Rotograph Committee for expenses...... 63.40 “ Collection of foreign and Canadian checks 1.04 “ M. H. R. A. for membership fees............ 8.00 “ Camb. Univ. Press, subscriptions to M.L.R...................................................... 30.53 “ Am. Council of Learned Soc. for dues... 82.50 “ Am. Council on Education, dues.............. 10.00 “ Banta Co., circulars for Coffman’s Group 7.80 “ refund excess payment, membership fee... .97 “ Carriage on Publications, Menasha to Bryn Mawr................................................ 18.38 “ Purchase of Publications............................ 30.73 “ Bryn Mawr Trust Co., Safety deposit box. 1.50 $ 279.16 To J. H. Furst Co., for printing XXXVI.4. .$1,504.46 To Banta Publishing Co. for printing XXXVH.l................................ 802.84 “ “ XXXVII.2................................ 777.30 “ “ XXXVII.3................................ 821.70 “ paper for XXXVII and XXXVIII.... 1871.32 “ reprints, XXXVH.l............................... 50.12 “ “ XXXVII.2................................ 66.28 “ “ XXXVII.3................................ 52.05 $5,946.07 “ postage on returned copies.................... .88 “ stencillingaddressographlist................ 47.28 “ programs etc. for Baltimore and Iowa City meetings.......................... ............. 293.55 To expressage on programs to Phila.............. 2.00 $ 343.71 $9,377.55 Balance on hand December 27, 1922........................................... 1,922.03 $11,299.58 B. BRIGHT-VON JAGEMANN FUND At the beginning of the year this Fund was invested for the most part in 4J(% U. S. Liberty Bonds, as follows: One $100 bond, First issue, par value...................... $ 100.00 Three $1,000 bonds, Second Issue, par value.......... 3,000.00 One $500 bond, Second Issue, par value.................. 500.00 Three $100 bonds, Second Issue, par value............. 300.00 One $500 bond, Third Issue, par value.................... 500.00 Total $4,400.00 The operations for the year 1922 were as follows: Dr Cr Balance in Bryn Mawr Trust Co. Dec. 31, 1921......... Interest on Liberty Bonds.............................................. Income from Permanent Fund....................................... Transferred from Current Funds................................... Interest Bryn Mawr Trust Co....................................... Proceeds from Sale of Bonds (Oct. 17)......................... Tranferred to LeRoy E. Kimball, Managing Trustee... $ 41.54 104.15 195.47 400.00 12.66 4,421.66 $5,175.48 $5,175.48 $5,175.48 C. BALANCE SHEET Decrease* Increase Current Funds......................................................................$49.12 Bright-von Jagemann Fund............................................... $ 733.94 Added to Permanent Fund................................................ 560.00 $49.12 $1,293.94 Net increase...................................................................................$1,244.82 ♦This decrease is apparent rather than actual. After deducting from the balance on hand as reported last year the unpaid bills for XXXVI.4 and the Programs, there remained a surplus of $213.14. After deducting from this year’s balance the bills for XXXVII.4 and the Programs there remains a surplus of $839.26. Accordingly the Current Fund really made a gain of $626.12. In connection with this report the Secretary-Treasurer called attention to additional departments which should be included in the Publications in order to increase their useful­ ness to the members of the Association. Perhaps the most urgent need was for separate numbers, besides the quarterly instalments now printed, to be devoted to bibliography and reviews. The present resources of the Association were sufficient to cover the additional cost of printing this ma­ terial; the only fundamental obstacle consisted in the lack of an adequate administrative staff for handling the increas­ ing burden of editorial and business detail. It was impossible to undertake new departments, however great their promised usefulness, until provision could be found for adequate ad­ ministrative staff. The only permanent solution of the problem was by building up a considerable endowment fund, the income from which might be used for adminis­ trative expenses. It was time, in his opinion, for the Associa­ tion to consider the advisability of a vigorous endowment campaign, thereby following the example which had recently been set by several other learned societies. The growth and prosperity which the Modern Language Association is now enjoying make the present time the more opportune for laying secure foundations, sufficiently ample to provide for present necessities and to make future expansion possible. It was voted to refer the report of the Treasurer to the Auditing Committee. President Frank Aydelotte, Chairman of the Committee on Rotographs of MSS. and Rare Books, presented the following report. REPORT OF THE COMMITTEE ON REPRODUCTION OF MSS. AND EARLY PRINTED BOOKS The Committee on Reproduction of Manuscripts and Early Printed Books has to report that, on April 15, 1922, a printed announcement of the plan was mailed to the members of the Association and to all the colleges and universities in the United States. This announcement contained a request that colleges which were interested should undertake to participate in the plan by contributing $25 each per year for this purpose. The following colleges and individuals have contributed for 1922: Brown University Bryn Mawr College Carleton College Catholic Univ. of America Colorado College Dartmouth College De Pauw University Goucher College Grinnell College Johns Hopkins University Leland Stanford Jr. University Mount Holyoke College New York University Northwestern University Pomona College Princeton University Radcliffe College Reed College Simmons College Smith College State University of Iowa Swarthmore College Tulane University (Newcomb College) University of California University of Chicago University of Georgia University of Kansas University of North Carolina University of Notre Dame University of Pennsylvania University of Pittsburgh University of Southern California University of Texas University of Washington University of Wisconsin Vassar College Washington and Lee University Washington University Wellesley College Wells College Western Reserve University (Adelbert College) Yale University Newberry Library, Chicago President Frank Aydelotte Ginn & Company ($100) This gives the Association a fund of $1,200 for the first year’s work. The plan adopted by the Committee is to use for each year’s budget the money collected during the preceding calendar year. We shall accordingly begin on January 1, 1923 to spend the money collected during 1922 and shall issue a second request for contributions in 1923 to be spent in 1924. Subscribing institutions have been asked to indicate the material which would be most immediately useful to them for purposes of research. These requests have been referred to a sub-committee on selections, consisting of Professor Frederic Ives Carpenter, Chairman, University of Chicago. Professor W. A. Nitze, University of Chicago. Professor Carleton Brown, Bryn Mawr College. Professor J. S. P. Tatlock, Leland Stanford University. Professor Robert K. Root, Princeton University. Mr. H. H. B. Meyer, Library of Congress. Professor Charles R. Baskervill, University of Chicago. Professor C. F. Tucker Brooke, Yale University. Professor George L. Hamilton, Cornell University. J. A. Herbert, Esq., Assistant Keeper of Manuscripts, British Museum (Advisory member). The work of the Sub-committee on Selections has been in active progress for about three months, and the first rotographs will be ordered early in January. The first task of the Sub-committee on Selections is to study conditions and perfect arrangements for securing rotographs as economically as possible. Certain delays in securing material are to be expected in the first year of the operation of the scheme. It will be the general policy of the Sub-committee on Selections to restrict themselves to the reproduction of complete works so far as this is possible and so far as it is consistent with what seems to be the best interests of the subscribing institutions. In addition to the material which it is possible to reproduce this year, the Committee will undertake to make a list of desiderata. Suggestions for this list will be welcomed at any time. Any extra funds that may be left from year to year will be employed in procuring material from this list. Definite regulations for the use of the rotograph material have been discussed by the Committee but have not yet been definitely formulated. Probably it will be best to defer the issue of such rules until we have some experience on which to base them. In general, it will be the policy of the Committee to make the conditions for the use of such material as liberal and convenient as is consistent with the safety of the material and its widest utilization. So far as selections are concerned, the Committee has adopted the policy of caring first for the expressed needs of subscribing institutions, at least up to the limit of their contribution. Any margin of funds after these needs are attended to will be used for carrying out a more comprehensive program. Suggestions for this program and for the general conduct of the work of the Committee will be welcome at any time. Cordial interest expressed by institutions and individuals throughout the country in the plan seems to promise its success. Most of the sub­ scribers are colleges or universities, but a few are individuals. Since ma­ terial procured under this plan is first of all available to the individual selecting it, since the rotographs come into the Library of Congress free of duty, and since the charges for administration are all borne by the Modern Language Association or by the Library of Congress so that all funds con­ tributed go into rotographs themselves, it is quite clear that an individual who wishes manuscripts reproduced can make his money go very much farther by contributing it to this scheme than he could by having the rotographs made on his own account. The only stipulation is that the rotographs must belong eventually to the Library of Congress, which stipulation in no wise interferes with the usefulness of the material to a given person since he can obtain it for work in his own study at any time. The thanks of the Association are due to Ginn & Company of Boston for a generous contribution of $100 toward the work of the Committee. Frank Aydelotte, Chairman. December 28, 1922. It was voted to adopt the report and to confirm the action of the Committee in nominating a special Committee on the selection of MSS. to be rotographed. The Secretary of the Association read a communication, dated Dec. 22, from Professor Wm. G. Hale, Chairman of the Joint Committee on Grammatical Nomenclature. Pro­ fessor Hale stated that the revised Report of the Committee had gone through two proofs but its actual appearance had been delayed by typographical errors which had developed in the handling of the type. It was essential that every precaution should be taken to secure complete accuracy. He asked, therefore, that the representation of the Modern Language Association on the Joint Committee be continued. It was so voted. The Secretary of the Association reported that the Execu­ tive Council had by its ballot nominated to the Association the following scholars for election as Honorary Members: Edmund K. Chambers, author of The Mediaeval Stage, Sir. Israel Gollancz, Director of the Early English Text Society, and Professor W. A. Craigie of Oxford University. It was voted to elect the persons named as Honorary Members of the Association. President Raymond Weeks announced the appointment of the following committees: On the Nomination of Officers: Professors George L. Hamilton of Cornell University (Chairman), Raymond M. Alden of Stanford University, Charles H. Handschin of Miami University, Charles C. Marden of Princeton Univer­ sity, and Ashley H. Thorndike of Columbia University. On Resolutions: Professor C. H. C. Wright of Harvard University (Chairman), President W. W. Comfort of Haver- ford College, and Professor Allen W. Porterfield of Randolph- Macon Woman’s College. To Audit the Treasurer’s Report: Professors Raymond D. Havens of the University of Rochester (Chairman), John P. Hoskins of Princeton University, and Albert Schinz of Smith College. The Secretary of the Association read a telegram from Professor John M. Manly regretting that he had been pre­ vented from attending the meeting and asking that he be relieved from the Chairmanship of the General Committee on Groups for the coming year. On motion of Professor H. C. Lancaster it was voted that Professor Edwin Greenlaw be made Chairman of the Com­ mittee on Groups for 1923. Professor Ashley Thorndike called the attention of the members of the Association to the Conference of British and American Professors of English, which is to be held at Colum­ bia University in June, and expressed the hope that the American colleges and universities would be widely repre­ sented. Professor Morris W. Croll, of Princeton University, reported a minute adopted by the Group on Poetic Form setting forth the desirability of reaching some understanding as to the methods employed in metrical notation. He moved that the Association appoint a committee of five to investi­ gate the subject of metrical notation and to recommend a method (or alternative methods) to be adopted in text­ books used in the schools. It was so voted. [The President appointed as this committee, Professors Morris W. Croll (Chairman), R. M. Alden of Stanford University, Felix E. Schelling of the University of Pennsyl­ vania, Fred N. Scott of the University of Michigan, and Pauli F. Baum of Trinity College, North Carolina.] Professor Andre Morize of Harvard University announced that he had brought with him a collection of several thousand reference cards relating to French Literature which he would place in one of the side rooms of Houston Hall where they could be consulted by those who were interested. Professor Fred N. Scott of the University of Michigan explained to the Association the origin and purpose of the organization of a joint Committee of British and American scholars to consider the promotion of pure English, as recently announced in the Literary Review. [See the issue for Dec. 16.] He moved that the Association express its interest in the movement for pure English and its approval of the steps which had thus far been taken toward this end. It was so voted. The remainder of the session was devoted to an Author-Publisher Symposium The following papers were presented: 1. “The Market for the Scholarly Book.”1 By Dr. Alexander Green, Modern Language Editor, D. C. Heath and Company. 1 Printed in full at the end of the Proceedings, pp. xxxv, ff. PROCEEDINGS EOR 1922 xxi 2. “The Scholar and the Introductory Text-Book.” By Dr. Will D. Howe, of the Editorial Staff, Charles Scribner’s Sons. 3. “Cooperation between Author and Publisher from the Point of View of the Author.”2 By Professor James Geddes, Jr., of Boston University. 4. “The Author and the Reviewer.” By Dr. Henry Seidel Canby, Editor of the Literary Review. 5. “Cooperation between Author and Publisher from the Point of View of the Publisher.” By J. Franklin Brown, of the Educational Editorial Department, The Macmillan Company. During the reading of the last paper the Chair was occupied by Professor Fred N. Scott. On the conclusion of these papers there was brief discussion by Professors Howard J. Savage and T. Moody Campbell. On Thursday evening of December 28, at 6:30 o’clock, in Bennett Hall, the ladies of the Association were entertained informally at dinner by Louise H. Snowden, Advisor of Women, of the University of Pennsylvania. About seventy- five ladies were present. At eight o’clock in the evening of Thursday, December 28, the President of the Association, Professor Raymond Weeks, of Columbia University, delivered an address entitled: “The Poets and Nature”3 in the Auditorium, Houston Hall. After this address there was an informal reception for the members and guests of the Association. THIRD SESSION, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 29 For the third session the Association met in three sections devoted, respectively, to English, Romance, and Germanic Philology. 3 Printed in somewhat abridged form at the end of the Proceedings, pp. xcv, ff. 3 This address, in somewhat abridged form, will shortly be published in Scribner's Magazine. English Section AUDITORIUM, HOUSTON HALL Chairman, Professor Lane Cooper, of Cornell University. The following papers were read: 6. “The Organizing Ideas in Piers the Plowman.” By Henry W. Wells, of Columbia University. The paper was discussed by Professors O. F. Emerson, Samuel Moore, and the author. 7. “Thedore of Tarsus and Gislenus of Athens. ” By Professor Albert S. Cook, of Yale University. In the absence of Professor Cook, the paper was read by the Chairman. It was discussed by Dr. H. B. Hinckley. 8. “Keats, Rabelais, and Diodorus Siculus.” By Pro­ fessor John L. Lowes, of Harvard University. The paper was discussed by Professors A. H. Gilbert, W. E. Peck, and the author. 9. “A Forgotten Johnsonian.” By Professor Charles G. Osgood, of Princeton University. 10. “The Term ‘Communal.’ ” By Professor Louise Pound, of the University of Nebraska. The paper was read by Professor Arthur Beatty. It was discussed by Professors Raymond Alden, J. L. Lowes, and the Chairman. 11. “Love’s Labour’s Lost” and the “Earl of Southamp­ ton.” By Professor Austin K. Grey, of Haverford College. On the motion of Professor G. H. Gerould, the Section voted that the chairman appoint a committee of five to cooperate with the committee of the American Library Association in regard to the project of distributive buying by American libraries. [The Chairman later appointed the following committee: Professors R. K. Root (Chairman), A. C. Baugh, Edwin Greenlaw, C. S. Northup, and R. J. Menner.] R. J. Menner, Yale University, Secretary. Romance Section ROOM 314, ENGINEERING BUILDING Chairman, Professor C. H. C. Wright, of Harvard Univer­ sity. The following papers were read: 12. “La Society du Directoire et La Comedie de Moeurs.” By Professor Louis Allard, of Harvard University. 13. “Madame d’Houdetot et ses amities americaines.” By Professor G. Chinard, of Johns Hopkins University. 14. “The Psychology of Napoleon Worship in French Literature.” By Professor A. L. Guerard, of The Rice Institute. 15. “The Theory of ‘Natural Goodness’ in Rousseau’s Confessions.” By Professor George R. Havens, of the Ohio State University. 16. “Le Jongleur Gautier Le Leu.” By Professor Charles H. Livingston, of Bowdain College. 17. “Realistic ‘objectivity’ versus Classical ‘objectivity.’ ” By Professor F. A. Waterhouse, of Hamilton College. Professor Havens’ paper was discussed by Professor Schinz and Dr. Walter L. Bullock; Professor Livingston’s by Professor Armstrong. The other papers met with no com­ ment. Shirley Gale Patterson, of Dartmouth College, Secretary. ' Germanic Section room 313, engineering building Chairman, Professor T. Moody Campbell, of Wesleyan University. The following papers were read: 18. “A Problem in Modern German Verb-Rection.” By Professor Albert Wilhelm Boesche, of Cornell University. The paper was discussed by Professors Prokosch and Kellogg, Dr. Starck, and the author. 19. “The Mystic Brotherhood in German Literature of the Eighteenth Century, with special reference to Goethe’s Die Geheimnisse.” By Dr. Edwin H. Zeydel, of the Carnegie Endowment, Washington, D. C. The paper was discussed by Professors Faust and Fife. 20. “Remnants of a Middle Low German Bible Trans­ lation,” By Professor Adriaan J. Barnouw, of Columbia University. The paper was discussed by Professors Shumway, Vos, Kurrelmeyer, and the author. 21. “Schiller’s Attitude toward England.” By Professor John Alexander Kelly, of Haverford College. The paper was discussed by Professor Vos. The Section then proceeded to consideration of the reports of committees. Professor Schreiber reported progress of the Committee on the formulation of plans for the commemoration of the one hundredth anniversary of Goethe’s death. The com­ mittee was continued. Professor von Klenze, as chairman, told of the activities of the Committee on the formulation of plans for the col­ lecting and preserving of German literature written and published in the United States. On the motion of Professor Faust a committee with Professor von Klenze as chairman was authorized to take in hand the further organization and the collection of German books written in this country. The selection of the members of the committee was left to the Chairman. Dr. Taylor Starck, of Harvard University, reported for the Committee on the collecting of funds to assist in publishing the remaining portions of Grimm’s Worterbuch. Investig a tions of the committee showed that of the $120 necessary for publishing one fascicle of the Dictionaryit would be necessary to rely upon outside help for $30 and an additional $10 for Mitarbeiter, or $240 a year, if publication were to continue at the rate of six fascicles a year. Dr. Starck reported $342 collected up to the date of the meeting. The report was accepted and the committee continued with the power to enlarge if deemed necessary. In the absence of Professor Heuser, Chairman of the Committee on the collection and the publication of a list of important German periodicals in American libraries, the report was read by Professor Thayer. The committee had found that before it could intelligently undertake the work in this country, it would be necessary to make a survey of the important libraries in Germany. The committee recom­ mended that a volume be published listing the periodicals to be found in the more important German libraries; the work to be entrusted to a German, selected by an advisory com­ mittee of German scholars, and to be financed by soliciting advance subscriptions. The report was accepted and the committee was continued with power. Professor Gustav Gruener, of Yale University, was elected Chairman of the Section for the next meeting. Paul H. Curts, Wesleyan University, Secretary. At one o’clock the members of the Association were the guests of the University of Pennsylvania at luncheon in Weightman Hall. FOURTH SESSION, FRIDAY AFTERNOON, DECEMBER 29 The fourth session of the Association was devoted to Group Meetings, which were held in two Divisions, those of the First Division from 2 o’clock until 3:30 and those of the Second from 4 o’clock until 5:30. FIRST DIVISION, 2 P. M. {General Topics II) The Critical Study of Romanticism. Chairman, Professor Stanley P. Chase. The following papers were presented: “Early Conceptions of Romantic Scenery,” by Pro­ fessor Edward E. Hale, (read by the Chairman in Pro­ fessor Hale’s absence). “Romanticism in Seventeenth Century Literature,” by Professor Morris W. Croll. “The Romantic Essay,” by Professor Robert Withing- ton. All of these papers were highly suggestive and stimulated discussion. The following papers were read by title: “Romantic Psychology,” by Professor Percy H. Hou­ ston. “English Interpretations of the Romantic in the Early 19th Century,” by Professor Paul Kaufman. Letters were read from various members reporting inves­ tigations in progress. The following list of topics for inves­ tigation was presented and was adopted as a working program. According to this plan the Group will select each year the special topic for the ensuing year. 1. Definition of the term “romanticism.” 2. Connection of romanticism with philosophy. 3. Connection of romanticism with religion. 4. Connection of romanticism with politics and the writing of history. 5. Connection of romanticism with the types of literature. 6. Romanticism in Greek literature. 7. Romanticism in Latin literature. 8. Romanticism in mediaeval literature. 9. Romanticism in Renaissance Literature. 10. Romanticism in the so-called romantic period, with special study of the comparative chronology of its flourishing in the various literatures. It was voted that the Group should undertake the publica­ tion, annually or from time to time, of a small book of some six or seven essays on related aspects of a central topic, such as one of the above. For carrying out this plan, it was voted further that a small editorial committee should be appointed, and the Chairman was empowered to choose such a committee. It was voted to select “The Interpreta­ tion of the Term Romanticism” as the subject of investi­ gation for the ensuring year. Dr. C. E. Whitmore of Northampton, Mass., was elected Chairman and Professor Paul Kaufman, of American University, Secretary. About fifty persons were present. Paul Kaufman, Secretary. (English III) Present Status of Work on Chaucer. Chair­ man, Professor Edgar F. Shannon. The following papers were presented: “Realism in the Description of the Canterbury Pilgrims.” By Professor Howard R. Patch. Discussed by Professors R. K. Root and Samuel Moore and Dr. Henry B. Hinckley. “Further Suggestion on Dating the Hous of Fame and the Tale of Constance.” By Professor 0. F. Emerson. Dis­ cussed by Professors John L. Lowes, William E. Mead, G. H. Gerould, and R. K. Root. “England’s Discovery of the Decameron.” By Professor W. E. Farnham. Discussed by Professor Samuel Moore and Dr. Henry B. Hinckley. “French Influences on Chaucer’s Knowledge of the Classics.” By Professer John L. Lowes. The speaker invited the cooperation of the members of the Group in this investigation. It was voted that those interested in studying various aspects of this problem should communicate with Professor Lowes so that he may introduce some organization into the general work. Professor Shannon declined reelection as Chairman, and Professor Root was elected as his successor. Professor Patch was reelected Secretary. Howard R. Patch, Secretary. (English VIII) The Bibliography of English Fiction, 1660- 1800. Chairman, Professor Helen Sard Hughes. The main business of the meeting was the discussion of the report of the chairman of the Editorial Committee, Professor R. S. Crane, with a view to defining the scope of the work, the methods of distribution of individual tasks, and technical specifications for the guidance of workers. As most of the members present were especially interested in research in the period 1740-1800, that section of the work was chiefly discussed. Members were asked to indicate in writing the type of task they might most readily undertake: the collection of the bibliography of minor fiction in one decade or more, the bibliography of some major novelist, or the collection of items in certain periodicals or other sources. It was agreed that the Editorial Committee should prepare for immediate distribution to workers a list of technical specifications in accordance with the standards agreed upon at this meeting. Helen Sard Hughes, Chairman. (English XI) American Literature. Chairman, Professor Arthur H. Quinn. The Chairman in his opening remarks outlined the program for the meeting. Professor Percy H. Boynton read a paper on A Proper Critical Attitude to American Literature, in which he discussed the growth of national consciousness and the decline of literary self-consciousness. Professor Henry S. Canby spoke on Some Standards of Criticism. He advocated a criticism by planes, with no relaxation of standards. Pointing out the fact that criticism of American writers has been too good-natured as well as too unsympathetic, he urged that it be made more rigorous and scholarly. A lively discussion of several statements made by Profes­ sors Quinn, Boynton, and Canby followed, involving Miss Amy Reed, Dr. Walter L. Bullock, Mr. Harry T. Baker, the Secretary, and other unidentified members. Mr. John Valente announced that he was making a Concordance to Walt Whitman, and that if the proper coopera­ tion of the libraries of the country could be secured, Mr. Wilson, the publisher of The Reader’s Guide, would publish it and assume a risk to the amount of three thousand dollars. Professor Boynton was elected to succeed Professor Quinn. Francis A. Litz, Secretary. (French III) French Literature of the xvii and xviii Cen­ turies. Chairman, Professor Albert Schinz. The meeting was devoted to a belated celebration of Moliere’s Tercentenary. The Chairman sketched the history of Moliere’s fame, especially at the times of the first and second centenaries. He also mentioned some of the most significant contributions to our knowledge of Moliere that were offered at the occasion of the celebration of the tercentenary. Professor H. Carrington Lancaster called attention to a Don Juan play in France which had remained unknown to scholars. Professor Andre Morize summarized the episode of the Moliere-Corneille Controversy, started in 1920 by Pierre Louys, and took occasion to lay down some rules that ought to be observed in approaching problems of literary history. Professor Colbert Searles was elected Chairman of the Group for the coming year. Albert Schinz, Chairman. (German I) Historical Grammar and Linguistics. Chairman, Professor Eduard Prokosch. The following papers were read and discussed: “A Century of Grimm’s Law,” by Professor Hermann Collitz. “Sound Change and Meaning,” by Professor H. Kurath. The discussion of the nature of sound laws and phonetic tendencies promised in the program had to be abandoned for lack of time. The following officers were elected for the coming year: Professor A. F. J. Remy, of Columbia University, Chairman; Professor A. Busse, of Hunter College, Secretary. Hans Kurath, Secretary. (Scandinavian I) Scandinavian Literature. Chairman, Professor Adolph B. Benson. Professor Josef Wiehr was elected Secretary. The following papers were read: “The Personal Elements in the Works of Strindberg,” by Dr. Axel J. Uppvall. Discussion and comment by Professor Porterfield, Weigand, and Fife. “Is the Gibbons saga a Reflection of Partonopeus,'” by Dr. Henry G. Leach, who answered the question in the negative. Discussion by Professor Fife and Dr. Uppvall. “The Poetry of Viktor Rydberg,” by Dr. Charles Wharton Stork. Lack of time prevented any discussion of this paper. The attendance at this meeting was surprisingly large. Professor George T. Flom, of the University of Illinois, was elected Chairman of the Group for 1923 and the choice of a Secretary was left to him. Josef Wiehr, Secretary. {Spanish I) Spanish Language. Chairman, Professor C. Carroll Marden. Professor Frederick Courtney Tarr read a paper on “Some Characteristics Uses of the Noun Clause in Modern Spanish” which provoked interesting and fruitful discussion. The Group voted unanimously to hold a similar meeting next year, and Professor Marden was reelected Chairman. The Chairman then brought up the question of cooperation towards obtaining in this country organized files of Spanish periodicals—scientific and semi-scientific journals, literary reviews, newspapers, etc.—with the hope of avoiding dupli­ cation and at the same time widening the range of material available, as well as making such files really accessible when needed. Some fifteen persons, representing as many colleges and universities, agreed to report to the Chairman what periodicals, reviews, etc. were available in their respective institutions. From these persons the following committee was appointed to put the periodical plan into effect: Profes­ sors R. H. Keniston (Chairman), F. B. Luquiens, and C. C. Marden. It is hoped that other eastern institutions which desire to cooperate and are willing to add to their lists of Spanish journals, will communicate with Professor Keniston. The attendance was about thirty-five. H. G. Doyle, Secretary. SECOND DIVISION, 4 P. M. {General Topics ZF) Phonetics. Acting Chairman, Professor Robert J. Kellogg. Owing to conflicts with other Group Meetings held at the same hour, only ten persons were present, However, lists were passed for signature by those desiring to be enrolled as members of the Group and some one hundred and fifty signatures were obtained. The organization of the Group was effected by electing Professor James L. Barker Chairman for the coming year and Dr. Elliott A. White (Dartmouth), Chairman of a sub-Group on Experimental Phonetics, each being empowered to appoint such assistants and committees as might be needed. The following topics were presented and discussed: 1. Methods of Teaching Pronunciation with and without the International Phonetic Alphabet by Professors Kellogg, Cardon, Downer and others. 2. Differences between French and English Enunciation, by Professors Barker, Cardon, and others. 3. Possible Plans for Experimental Phonetics. 4. Plans for the Establishment for a Journal of Phonetics. Robert J. Kellogg, Acting Chairman. {Comparative Literature I) Influence of Latin Culture on Mediaeval literature. Chairman, Professor G. H. Gerould. In the absence of Secretary Coffman, Professor G. H. McKnight was elected Secretary pro tempore. The simplification of the title of the Group to “Mediaeval Latin” was proposed and adopted. The Chairman announced that a survey of the state of studies in Mediaeval Latin throughout the United States was in progress, and that Professor Tatlock would issue a report on the findings of the committee. The Chairman read letters from Professors E. K. Rand (Harvard) and G. B. Adams (Yale) favoring the affiliation of the Group with the committee of the Council of Learned Societies in charge of projects of interest to the Group. On motion of Professor 0. F. Emerson it was voted that “through our committee we cooperate with the Council of Learned Societies in projects they have undertaken.” The proposed new edition of Ducange was discussed, and it was the sense of the Group that to undertake a single thorough-going revision of Ducange, or a new and compre­ hensive dictionary, would be much more worth while than to compile a set of special vocabularies. To that end the members present promised hearty cooperation. The Chairman introduced for discussion the plan of the American Library Association for the distributive buying of books. It was agreed that a committee be appointed by the officers of the Group to confer with librarians and to assist in blocking out divisions for which particular libraries might undertake to hold themselves responsible in the field of mediaeval Latin. Those desiring to assist the com­ mittee in its work were invited to send contributions of one dollar each to the Chairman or to Professor Coffman to be used in defraying expenses. The Chairman presented for consideration the tentative table of contents for a mediaeval Latin primer by Professor C. H. Beeson of Chicago. The discussion which followed led to agreement in regard to the following points: (1) It was thought that very short selections were undesirable—that they should be longer, even though they covered a less wide range. (2) Any arrangement except a chronological one seemed impossible. (3) The present contents appear too largely anecdotal in character. (4) A grammatical introduction would be desirable, but only a short one. Perhaps five pages would be the maximum length necessary. Brief notes would also be useful. Professor Gerould was elected Chairman of the Group for the coming year. G. H. McKnight, Secretary pro tempore. {English II) Present-Day English. Chairman, Professor James F. Royster. The proposal to take means to establish a Central Bureau for recording and distributing specimens of American speech was discussed and enthusiastically approved. The discussion was led by Professor J. L. Barker and was continued by the following persons (among others): Professors Fred N. Scott, H. M. Ayres, and Samuel Moore. It was voted that the Chairman be empowered to appoint a committee to formulate a plan and to seek means for collecting and distributing specimens of the American Language. The Chairman of the Group has named Pro- fessor J. L. Barker as Chairman of the Committee and will later name the other members of the Committee. It was further voted to leave the appointment of a Group Chair­ man to the General Group Committee. There were twenty members in attendance. James F. Royster, Chairman. {English F.) Spenser and Milton. Chairman, Professor Edwin Greenlaw. The Chairman announced plans for a complete Variorum edition of Spenser, under collaborative authorship; approval of the undertaking was voted. He announced that the Spenser bibliography compiled by Dr. F. I. Carpenter is ready for the printer. Plans for a Milton bibliography were discussed. It was voted that a bibliography be undertaken, in cooperation with Professor Stevens, who should be one member of a committee appointed to carry out the plan. The Chair appointed Professors R. D. Havens, D. H. Stevens, and J. H. Hanford (chairman). Extension of the scope of the group, possibly to include non-drama tic literature of the 16 th and 17 th centuries, was discussed. The question was referred to a committee to be appointed. The Chairman announced that his resignation was neces­ sitated by his new work as chairman of the Committee on Groups. Professor J. H. Hanford was elected chairman for the ensuing period. Professor H. E. Sandison was elected Secretary-Treasurer. Professor Havens suggested the publishing of a mimeo­ graphed bulletin, at intervals during the year, recording research in progress, bibliography, questions, etc. After discussion of the value and expense of such publication it was voted that 50c dues be established for active member­ ship in the group, to be spent by the Secretary-Treasurer on mimeographing and postage. All present so desiring signed a list of active members. All members of the Association wishing to join in the work of the group are asked to send their names to the Secretary, Professor Helen E. Sandison, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Reports of work in progress were made to the Secretary: edition, with translation, of Milton’s Latin poems, Mr. Walter MacKellar; Browne and Nineteenth Century prose, Professor Stuart Robertson. Any other such reports may be sent to the Secretary. Papers were then read as follows: 1. Problems in the Moral Allegory of the Faerie Queene, Charles G. Osgood. 2. A Note on Spenser’s Theory of Narrative Technique, John W. Draper. 3. Milton Problems: (a) Milton’s Library, J. Holly Hanford; (b) Seventeenth Century Biographies of Milton, Allen R. Benham; (c) A Detail of Milton’s Cosmology, Allan H. Gilbert. Helen E. Sandison, Secretary-Treasurer. {English IX) Wordsworth and his Contemporaries. Chair­ man, Professor George MacLean Harper. The following papers were read: “The Wordsworth-Coleridge Complex,” by Professor Harper. “A Review of Professor Arthur Beatty’s book, William Wordsworth: his Doctrine and Art in their Historical Rela­ tions,” by Professor S. F. Gingerich. Professor Beatty replied to his critic and a spirited dis­ cussion developed in which many persons participated. Professor J. E. Wells read a list of principal publications in this field during the year. Professor 0. J. Campbell presented the report of the committee on Publications and called attention to the following as works most needed by students and teachers: (1) a reissue of The Letters of the Wordsworth Family, (2) A new and better edition of Dorothy Wordsworth’s Journals, (3) A new edition of Wordsworth’s Prose Works, (4) an annotated edition of the Complete Poems, adapted particularly for American colleges, (5) a complete and definitive Wordsworth bibliography. The organization of the Group was continued without change for another year. Sixty-seven members were present. Oscar J. Campbell, Secretary. {French I) Romance Linguistics. Chairman, Professor Henry A. Todd. The following papers were presented: 1. “Some Etymologies.” (dealing with OF adenz, Fr chassie, Sard, nuraghe, Sp. pedazo and Sp. cenceno), by Pro­ fessor D. S. Blondheim. Discussed by the Chairman. 2. “The Passive Voice in Vulgar Latin,” by Professor Henri F. Muller. The discussion of questions relating to the organization of the Group led to the adoption of the following resolutions: I. That a vote of thanks be given to the Chairman for the valuable services he had rendered the Group. II. That a committee of three be chosen to nominate a Chairman for the next meeting, the committee to consist of Professors D. S. Blondheim, C. Gilli and O. Muller. III. That the Secretary should continue in office during the following year. Otto Muller, Secretary. {German IV) Romanticism in Contemporary German Literature. Chairman, Professor Allen W. Porterfield. The Chairman in his opening remarks called attention to literary currents and interests prevailing in Germany today. There is a marked tendency on the part of German scholars toward research on Goethe, as shown by the numerous books now appearing on various aspects of Goethe’s life and works. Schiller, on the other hand, is being neglected. Professor Otto Manthey-Zorn read a paper on “Roman­ ticism in the Contemporary German Drama,” giving his impressions of the German drama of today gained on a trip to Germany two years ago. He emphasized the un- propitiousness of the times to great dramatic work and discussed the Volksbiihne and its campaign against commer­ cialism and for higher art. Professor Camillo von Klenze spoke on “Romanticism, the World-War and the Philosophy of Tomorrow.” He com­ pared the present age with that of Plato immediately after the Peloponnesian War. Writers are now attempting to represent all life and to transcend it. Disregarding the past, they are, like Nietzsche, looking to the future. A groping and a blending of experience (reality) and aspiration (mysticism) characterize the present period. A new dawn in literature seems to be breaking at this very time. The following resolution, moved by Professor Hauch and seconded by Professor Busse, who had been its original sponsor, was adopted: That the Chairman name a committee to draw up an appropriate con­ gratulatory message to be transmitted to Gerhart Hauptmann as an expres­ sion of the sentiment of the Group on the occasion of his recent sixtieth birthday. The Chairman appointed as members of this committee Professors Gruener, Fife and von Klenze. Edwin H. Zeydel, Acting Secretary. (Italian I~) Italian Literature. Chairman, Professor James E. Shaw. Professor Mary Vance Young was elected Secre­ tary. Professor E. Goggio reported for the Committee on means for advancing the study of Italian. Letters received from instructors in various institutions indicated a preference for dealing with modern literature in the first year, reserving the older literature for the more advanced year; recom­ mended the extension of Italian studies over several years and that public lectures be given, prizes offered, clubs founded, the support of the Italian government invoked, and that university instructors be organized. Discussion by Professors Pugh, Riddell, Bullock, Camera, Cavicchia, Geddes, Goggio and others led to the conclusion that matters mentioned in the report should be studied by an association to be formed of university instructors. It was voted that a committee be appointed by the Chairman to consider the formation of such an association, in harmony with the members of the Central Division of the M. L. A., and bearing in mind the existence of the Association of Italian Teachers, of New York, and of other societies espe­ cially that of the Figli d’Italia. Dr. Charles E. Whitmore read a paper on “The Present Status of Work on Early Italian Poetry.” Professor G. Cavicchia made a report on “Short Stories in Contemporary Italian Literature,” with regard to their use in instruction. Professor D. Vittorini made an address on “The Contem­ porary Novel,” classifying and criticising the production of the last half century. Professor A. Riddell was unfortunately unable to make her report on “Contemporary Periodicals,” since she was obliged to leave early. It was voted to defer the permanent organization of the Group. Mary Vance Young, Secretary. At seven o’clock Friday evening, a subscription dinner was served to members of the Association in Weigh tman Hall. All members of the Association ’were entertained at a smoker in Weightman Hall, at half-past eight o’clock. The Smoke-talk was given by Mr. A. Edward Newton. FIFTH SESSION, SATURDAY MORNING, DECEMBER 30 AUDITORIUM, HOUSTON HALL The session was called to order by the President of the Association at 9:40 a.m. Professor R. D. Havens, Chairman of the Committee to audit the report of the Treasurer, being obliged to return home the previous evening, left a statement signed by the members of the Committee certifying that the report had been examined and found correct, whereupon it was voted to accept the Treasurer’s report. Professor C. H. C. Wright, Chairman of the Committee on Resolutions, after calling attention to the recent action of the A. L. A. Council protesting against certain provisions in the Bill now pending in Congress to amend the Copyright Law, offered the following resolution: Resolved, that the Modern Language Association of America endorse the resolutions of the Council of the American Library Association with regard to the proposed copyright measures sponsored by the Authors’ League. The resolution was adopted. Professor Wright also presented the following resolution: Whereas, The Thesaurus Lingua Latinos is perhaps the most important scholarly undertaking of our day, at least after the Oxford English Dic­ tionary; and whereas the Thesaurus Lingua Latina is at present in extreme pecuniary distress; and whereas a movement is on foot in America to find ways and means of saving the Theaurus Lingua Latina for the world of scholarship and for civilization: Resolved, that the Modem Language Association of America heartily endorse any wise effort that may be made to obtain funds for the said Thesaurus as a matter of deep concern to all scholars of this and future generations. The resolution was adopted. Professor Wright also presented the following resolution: Resolved, that the Modem Language Association of America in conven­ tion assembled hereby express its sincere thanks for the hospitality extended to it by the Provost and authorities of the University of Pennsylvania, and its most grateful appreciation of the courtesy and kindness of all concerned in the entertainment of its members. The resolution was adopted by a rising vote. In the absence of Professor George L. Hamilton, Chair­ man, the report of the Committee on the Nomination of Officers was presented by Professor Charles C. Marden, as follows: For President of the Association: Professor Oliver F. Emerson, of Western Reserve University. For Vice-Presidents: Professors T. Moody Campbell, of Wesleyan University, Arthur H. Quinn, of the University of Pennsylvania, and James E. Shaw, of the University of Toronto. For member of the Executive Council to fill Professor Emerson’s unexpired term: Professor Karl Young, of the University of Wisconsin. It was voted that the Secretary be instructed to cast one ballot for the nominees and they were declared elected. Professor John L. Lowes, of Harvard University, presented the following motion which had been drawn up and unani­ mously endorsed at a meeting of the Trustees, and members of the Executive Council in attendance at the present ses­ sion: That the Executive Council be authorized to appoint an Assistant Secretary for the year 1923 at a salary which shall not exceed $800. It is understood that this does not affect the appropriation of a sum not to exceed $600 for clerical assistance, already voted by the Association. It was so voted. Professor Robert J. Kellogg, of the University of Pennsyl­ vania, presented the following motion: That a Committee of the Modern Language Association be appointed to confer with representatives of (1) other linguistic Associations in the United States and Canada, (2) graduate and research institutions, libraries, com­ mercial or industrial organizations cercerned with linguistic investigations, (3) leading publishing houses issuing linguistic and philological works, in order to consider with them and report to this Association plans and means for dealing with the following matters: I. The discovery, encouragement and co-ordination of competent scholarly research and preparation of text-books along literary, linguistic, philological, and directly related lines. II. The guidance of investigators in preparing studies, monographs, larger works, or journals, embodying worthwhile results of such investiga­ tions. III. The development of a permanent demand and sustaining constitu­ ency for such works. IV. Plans of publication, advertising, and distribution. V. The securing of sustaining patrons, endowed funds, or other neces­ sary facilities for such research, publication, advertising and distribution. VI. Provision for permanent cooperation of publishers, institutions, associations and patrons to the above ends. After some general discussion the motion was put and it was so voted. Professor Raymond M. Alden, speaking as the representa­ tive of the Philological Association of the Pacific Coast, presented a message of greeting from that Association to the Modern Language Association of America. Professor Fred N. Scott moved that the General Group Committee be asked to make a report of progress at the next annual meeting. It was so voted. Professor James F. Royster of the University of North Carolina offered the following resolution: Resolved, that the Executive Council be requested to consider a proposal to arrange the program of the next meeting of the Association so that one session shall be devoted entirely to the presentation of two or three papers of general interest by scholars of distinction, chosen either from within or without the Association, and to appoint a committee of three, of which the Secretary of the Association shall be a member, to invite such persons of distinguished scholarly position as it may choose to prepare papers for this part of next year’s program. The resolution was adopted. The reading of papers was then resumed. 22. “Position and Movement in Phonetics.” By Professor James L. Barker, of the University of Utah. The paper was discussed with much interest by Professors Robert J. Kellogg, H. Carrington Lancaster, and J. S. Kenyon. 23. “The Earl of Essex on the Stage.” By Professor Winifred Smith, of Vassar College. The paper was discussed by Professor H. Carrington Lancaster. 24. “The Contribution of Longinus’ De Sublimitate." By Professor Charles Sears Baldwin, of Barnard College. 25. “Satanism in French Romanticism.” By Professor Maximilian Rudwin, of Swarthmore College. The paper was discussed by Professor Andre Morize. 26. “Pater, Heine, and the Old Gods of Greece.” By Professor John S. Harrison, of Butler College. 27. “Some Russian Versions of Don Juan.” By Dr. Clarence A. Manning, of Columbia University. At 12:40 p. m. the Association adjourned. PAPERS READ BY TITLE 28. “Jane Austen, the Critic.” By Professor Annette B. Hopkins, of Goucher College. 29. “Moralist and Novel-Reader in Eighteenth Century England.” By Professor Alan D. McKillop, of Rice Institute. 30. “Shakspere’s ‘lead apes in hell.’ ” By Professor Ernest P. Kuhl, of Goucher College. 31. “Aminadab and the World.” By Professor E. K. Maxfield, of Washington and Jefferson College. 32. “The Subterranean Grail-Paradise in Don Quixote.” By Professor Philip S. Barto, of the Carnegie Institute of Technology. 33. “Keats’ Use of Sound.” By Professor Elizabeth Nitchie, of Goucher College. 34. “The Technique of Charles Sealsfield.” By Dr. Bernard Stroer, of the College of the City of New York. 35. “A Criticism of the German Language and Literature by a German of the Eighteenth Century.” By Dr. Edwin H. Zeydel, of the Carnegie Endowment, Washington, D. C. 36. “Erasmus Learns Greek.” By Professor Howard J. Savage, of Rryn Mawr College. 37. “Doctor Johnson and ‘Mur.’ ” By Professor Joseph M. Beatty, Jr., of Goucher CoUege. 38. “Notes on Gilbert Imlay, Early American writer.” By Professor 0. F. Emerson, of Western Reserve University. 39. “La condition sociale des 6crivains du seizidme siScle.” By Dr. H61ene Harvitt. 40. “Critical Essays Falsely Attributed to Goldsmith. A study of the Belles Lettres series of essays first published in the British Magazine (1761-1763) and included in the 1802 edition of Goldsmith’s Works.” By Dr. Caroline F. Tupper, of the University of Illinois. 41. “Is Shelley’s Prometheus Unbound an Allegory?” By Newman I. White, of Trinity College (N. C.) 42. “English Opinions of French Poetry, 1660-1750.” By Miss Rose Heylbut Wollstein, of Columbia University. 43. “Notes on the Metre of the Old Spanish Epic Verses.” By Professor E. C. Hills, of the University of California. 44. “Walter Savage Landor and William Wordsworth.” By Professor Finley, M. K. Foster, of the University of Delaware. 45. “The Validity of Literary Definitions.” By Dr. Charles E. Whit­ more, of Northampton, Massachusetts. 46. “A New Biography of Sir George Etherege.” By Professor Dorothy Foster, of Mount Holyoke College. 47. “The Choice of Reading Texts for Modem Language Classes.” By Professor C. H. Handschin, of Miami University. 48. “Hazlitt as Critic of Art.” By Professor Stanley P. Chase, of Union College. MEETING OF THE CENTRAL DIVISION, 1922 The twenty-seventh meeting of the Central Division was held at Chicago upon the invitation of the University of Chicago and Northwestern University, December 28, 29, 30, 1922. The register showed the unusual attendance of 208, with ten or more from universities of Chicago 26; Iowa 16; Indiana 13; Wisconsin 12; Illinois 10; Northwestern 10. The meeting was carried out on the plan suggested in 1920, making Chicago the regular meeting place every second year with a minimum expense to the hosts. It was nevertheless an occasion of unusual cheer owing to the brilliant dinner arranged by the local committee and other admirable arrangements. Reduced rates on the railroads, conceded at the last moment, were secured by a majority of the delegates from a distance, an encouragement for attend­ ance in the future. FIRST SESSION, THURSDAY, DECEMBER 28 The meeting of the first day, held at the Auditorium Hotel at 2:30 p.m., was divided into four sessions, as below. Opinion was general, however, that the first session should be a general meeting for inauguration of the work as a whole and for general organization. The French Novel Chairman: Professor D. H. Carnahan, University of Illinois. Secretary: Professor George I. Dale, Washington Uni­ versity. “Discrepancies in the Work of Balzac.” Professor A. Odebrecht, Denison University. This paper was discussed by the Chairman. “Balzac’s Method of Revision.” Professor E. Preston Dargan. This paper, embodying the results of examination of Balzac’s original manuscripts, attracted much attention. “Maupassant and the Supernatural.” Professor Ernest G. Atkin. English, Earlier Chairman: Professor Charles Read Baskervill, University of Chicago. “Astrologising the Gods,” Professor Walter Clyde Curry. “The Passionate Shepherd,” a Further Study. Professor Robert S. Forsythe. “Shakespeare’s Use in the Merchant of Venice of the Conventional Friendship—Love Theme.” Dr. Laurens Joseph Mills, Indiana University. “Bunyan’s Mr. Badman and the Picaresque Novel.” Professor J. B. Wharey, University of Texas. English, Later Chairman: Professor Robert L. Ramsay, University of Missouri. “The Significance of Shaftesbury in English Speculation.” Professor William E. Alderman. “Wordsworth’s Unacknowledged Debt to Macpherson’s Ossian.” Professor John Robert Moore, Indiana University. “Early Critics of Shelley.” Professor Walter Graham. German Chairman: Professor Hermann Almstedt, University of Missouri. “Elizabethan Ghosts and Herzog Heinrich Julius of Braunschweig.” Professor M. Blakemore Evans. This paper proved to be one of general interest, appealing to scholars in other fields than the Germanic. “Goethe’s Conception of the Poet’s Calling.” Professor William A. Cooper, Stanford University, ju “Some Definitions of German Naturalism.” Professor Mayfield. PROCEEDINGS EOR 1922 xlv 8:00 P.M.: The Chairman of the Division, Professor William A. Nitze of the University of Chicago, gave the Annual Address, entitled: “Modern Language Scholarship: An Enquiry.”* This Address, which was voted one of the most brilliant and thoughtful in the annals of the Division, was followed by an informal reception. The following committees were named at this session: On New Officers: Kenneth MacKenzie, A. C. L. Brown, Algernon Coleman and A. R. Hohlfeld. On Time and Place of Next Meeting: Hardin Craig, Tom Peete Cross, George I. Dale and Robert Lee Ramsay. On Resolutions: D. H. Carnahan and Oscar Burkhardt. SECOND SESSION, DECEMBER 29, 9:30 A. M. UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO RESEARCH GROUPS These meetings were devoted to the discussion of research topics, with free participation. In some, the discussion was based upon formal papers; in some, the discussion was conducted along certain designated lines, with­ out formal papers. The leading papers dealt with problems of present interest in a particular field in various literatures, or discussed special fields of wort that might be undertaken by groups of scholars. The research groups are in process of evolution and experiment. Members who desire to branch out in new lines in 1923 are urged to canvass the subject and report to the Secretary the result of their efforts. Historical Grammar and Linguistics Chairman: Professor Guido Stempel, Indiana University. Secretary: Professor W. F. Bryan, Northwestern Uni­ versity. “The Trend of English Sound-Changes.” Professor C. M. Lotspeich, University of Cincinnati. This paper was discussed by Messrs. Curme, Belden, Jenkins, Purin, Baker, and Knott. * For the full text of this Address see page lxvi. “The Evolution of patois as a Device in French Litera­ ture from the Classic to the Romantic Periods—A Survey.” Professor A. H. Schutz, Iowa State Teachers College. This paper was discussed by Messrs. Jenkins and Stempel. Report on the Development of Linguistic Consciousness in the American Student. Professor Thomas A. Knott, State University of Iowa. Thomas A. Knott was elected chairman for 1923, and W. F. Bryan, secretary. The attendance was twenty-five. Renaissance Chairman: Professor Hardin Craig, State University of Iowa. “Manuscripts and Early Printed Books of Interest to Renaissance Scholars.” A list with a brief consideration of the principles of choice in the selection of material for photographic reproduction. This subject was discussed, with the presentation of addi­ tional suggestions, by Dr. Frederic Ives Carpenter, of Chicago, and others. “Luis Vives and Rabelais’ Pedagogy.” Mr. G. L. Michaud, University of Michigan. “Outlines of the 16th Century Latin Drama.” Professor Craig. “Report on the Cataloguing of Rotographs.” Professor H. S. V. Jones. Members interested in the field of renaissance literature and having problems of general interest were invited to make brief statements of their investigations. Subject with ramifications through the whole field and those on which cooperation would be practicable were particularly followed. Announcements of theses in progress on Renaissance sub­ jects were also made. The attendance was forty-five. Moliere Collaborators Chairman: Professor Casimir Zdanowicz, University of Wisconsin. Secretary: Professor Stephen H. Bush, State University of Iowa. This was a meeting of great interest in honor of the Ter­ centenary of Moliere. It was attended by fifty persons or more. “Moliere’s Means of Producing Comic Effect Studied in Connection with Bergson’s Theory of Laughter.” Professor Zdanowicz. “The Enemies of Moliere.” Professor Edward M. Greene, University of South Dakota. Review: “The Tercentenary Literary Offering to Moliere,” Professor B. E. Young. This paper was discussed by Professors H. A. Smith, Moraud and Searles, and Mrs. Charlotte Conde Hughes, of Grand Rapids, Michigan. Owing to the illness of Professor Gustave van Roosbroeck, his keenly anticipated paper on “Francois Hugues Moliere d’Essertines,” was not presented. Professor Colbert Searles read a brief satirical paper on “What we read into Moliere” that was itself hailed as real literature. The same officers were elected for 1923, and a permanent committee consisting of Messrs. Nitze, Searles and Young, was appointed. It is hoped that this group of workers, brought together at the three-hundredth anniversary of the author, will result in a continuing collaboration, with con­ tributions of permanent value in the literature of the subject. Chaucer Chairman: Professor H. S. V. Jones, University of Illinois. Secretary: Professor Walter Clyde Curry, Vanderbilt University. “Yesterday and Tomorrow.” Professor J. R. Hulbert, University of Chicago. “Some notes on Chaucer and Some Conjectures.” Pro­ fessor O. F. Emerson, Western Reserve University. (Read in his absence.) “Chaucer’s Science and Art.” Professor Curry. “Observations on Recent Chaucer Literature.” Professor Jones. Professor Hulbert was elected Chairman for 1923 and Professor Robert A. Law, Secretary. (See below for plan of work proposed). The attendance was thirty-five. Mediaeval Latin Chairman: Professor George R. Coffman, Grinnell College. Secretary: Mr. Clark Harris Slover of the University of Chicago. The chairman reported as part of the activity of the Group for the past year: 1. Effecting a national organization with E. K. Rand as advisory chairman, G. H. Gerould as chairman for the eastern section, J. S. P. Tatlock as chairman for the western section, and G. R. Coffman as chairman for the central section and as executive secretary of the Group. 2. Completing a nation-wide survey relative to conditions in mediaeval Latin in the graduate colleges and universities. (Professor Tatlock will study the situation as revealed in data and present recommendations later.) 3. Establishing unofficial relations with representatives of history, classics, and the American Council of Learned So­ cieties, and with the Modern Humanities Research Associa­ tion. 4. Encouraging as the concrete project of the year Professor Beeson’s Mediaeval Latin Primer. Summary of action at the meeting: 1. Professor T. P. Cross was appointed to receive contribu­ tions of $1.00 from any wishing to assist in the work. 2. Resolution passed to change the name of the Group to “The Group on Mediaeval Latin Culture.” 3. Resolution passed favoring new mediaeval Latin dic­ tionary; formal recommendation deferred pending further information about revision of Du Cange. 4. Resolution passed favoring Professor Gerould’s recom­ mendation for co-operation among libraries relative to medi­ aeval Latin books. 5. Discussion of Mediaeval Latin Primer. Professor Beeson explained that the first part of his text was intended to give the student an opportunity to recover familiarity with Latin, that the selections were arranged in order of increasing difficulty in the first part, and chronological se quevie in the second, and that a brief grammatical introduction would be included with the text. 6. Professor Beeson was elected by the group as its official representative to the Commission for the Revision of Du Cange. Romanticism Chairman: Professor B. V. Crawford, State University of Iowa. Leader of discussion on the romantic movement in modern literatures: Professor Richard Foster Jones, Washington University. Discussion of the French side, Professor Lander Mac- Clintock; of the English, Professor B. V. Crawford; of the German, Mr. Peter Hazboldt, of the Francis Parker High School, Chicago. Owing to the lateness of the hour, the timely paper of Professor Angelo Lipari, on Francesco de Sanctis and ro­ mantic criticism in Italy, was not presented. The attendance was sixty-five. Regret was expressed for the illness and absence of Professor Charles Young, who prepared the program. Professor Crawford was elected Chairman for 1923. Italian Literature Chairman: Professor Ernest H. Wilkins, University of Chicago. “D’Annunzio as Poet.” Professor Rudolph Altrocchi, University of Chicago. “Giovanni Papini.” Professor Ruth Shepard Phelps. “Pirandello and I Groteschi.” Professor Lander Mac- Clintock. Professor Kenneth MacKenzie was elected chairman for 1923. The attendance was fifteen. Contemporary Literature Chairman: Professor H. M. Jones, University of Texas. Subject: “The Rhythm of Free Verse.” Discussion: Miss Edith Rickert, leader; Mr. Raymond D. Jameson, Mr. H. F. Fore and others. “Shaksperean Influence in Strindberg’s Historical Plays.” Professor Harry V. E. Palmblad, Phillips University. The same officers were elected for 1923. The members were entertained at lunch by the modern language faculties of the University of Chicago at the Quadrangle Club. THIRD SESSION, FRIDAY, DECEMBER 29, 2 P. M. UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO RESEARCH GROUPS (Continued) Spanish Literature Chairman: Professor E. W. Olmsted, University of Minnestoa. 1. Informal discussion of suggested research topics by Professor Joseph E. Gillet, University of Minnesota and others. 2. Paper: “Lisardo Pseudonym of Mira de Amescua.” Professor C. E. Anibal, Indiana University. 3. Paper: “Lope de Vega’s Ver y no creer.” Professor George I. Dale. 4. Paper: “Cervantes’ Attitude Toward Honor.” Pro­ fessor George Tyler Northup. 5. Paper: “The Reputation and Influence of Torres Naharro in the Sixteenth Century.” Professor Gillet. 6. Paper: “Moreto’s El desden con el desden compared with suggested sources.” Miss Mabel M. Harlan, Indiana University. Professor Northup was elected chairman for 1923, and Professor John Van Horne, University of Illinois, secretary. The attendance was fifty. American Dialect Society Chairman: Professor T. P. Cross, University of Chicago. Remarks were made by the Chairman on the history and purpose of the Society. “Dialect and Vocabulary.” Professor F. A. Wood. “Consonant Addition in American Dialect Speech.” Miss Amy Armstrong, University of Minnesota. “Shall and Will in American English.” Professor C. C. Fries, University of Michigan. “New Devices in Dialect Writing.” Professor Robert L. Ramsay. The attendance was twenty-five. Metrics Chairman: Professor H. M. Belden, University of Mis­ souri. “Monosyllables and Algebraic Diction in English Poetry.” Professor Belden. “The Syllabic Basis of Rhythm.” Professor J. Hubert Scott. “Quantity and Stress in English Verse.” Professor A. R. Morris. “The Elizabethan Hexametrists.” Professor B. M. Hollowell, Nebraska Wesleyan University. Professor J. Hubert Scott offered a resolution requesting the Central Division to “express its approval of an attempt to effect through a committee of the whole Association the standardizing of metrical nomenclature.” This resolution was adopted. The same officers were elected for 1923. The attendance was thirty. Arthurian Romances Chairman: Professor Arthur C. L. Brown. Secretary: Professor T. Atkinson Jenkins. Professor J. D. Bruce read his paper: “Desiderata in the Investigation of the Old French Prose Romances.” In discussion, it was urged that this paper be published, and that more cooperation among Arthurian scholars is needed. H. O. Sommer’s labors would have been more fruitful had he had the active support of a committee or council. A new edition of Wace’s Roman de Brut would be very welcome. The Chairman read Foster E. Guyer’s paper on Chrestien’s Yvain. Guyer finds in Ovid and in Vergil (the Dido story) precedents for the treatment of the tale of Laudine by Chrestien de Troyes. The discussion was carried on by Professors Brown, Nitze, Bruce, Cross, Pietsch and Parry. T. P. Cross was elected chairman for next year and L. E. Winfrey secretary. Attendance 26. French Literature, General A meeting devoted to regular papers in several fields, not to research groups. Chairman: Professor Hugh A. Smith, University of Wisconsin. “The Legend of Amicus and Amelius.” Professor Alexander H. Krappe. “La Chanson de Roland et la Chanjun de Willame.” Professor Lucy M. Gay. “The French Renaissance Conception of Poetic Genius.” Professor Martin W. Storn. “Newly Discovered Plays by Louis de Boissy.” Professor Anthony Constans. “Le Pretendu Mariage de Chateaubriand.” Professor Robert Foure. “Le Suicide dans le drame franjais contemporain.” Pro­ fessor Maurice Baudin. FRIDAY, DECEMBER 29, 3:30 P. M. DEPARTMENTAL CONFERENCES ON INSTRUCTION These sessions were devoted to three departmental meetings, English, German and Romance, for the discussion of problems of instruction. English Chairman: Professor Franklyn B. Snyder, Northwestern University. Secretary: Professor H. W. Robbins, University of Minnesota. “The Teachers’ Course in English.” Professor George B. Woods. “English and the Business Man.” Professor Walter K. Smart. “The Able Student in English Composition Courses.” Professor George C. Clancy. “A Neglected Feature in English Composition.” Pro­ fessor Rollo LuVerne Lyman. Discussion: “The Sophomore Course in English Litera­ ture.” Representatives of various institutions. German Chairman: Professor Oscar Burkhard, University of Minnesota. Secretary: Dr. Richard Jente, Washington University. “Some Questions in German Instruction.” Professor M. D. Baumgartner. (Interest in German in the colleges is reviving slowly but encouragingly. Students can be attracted by good teachers, therefore teachers should be trained well and perform their work conscientiously. More attention could be paid to choice of reading material and “unglad” stories should be avoided. Student German clubs should be developed.) “Our Present Problems in German Instruction.” Pro­ fessor B. Q. Morgan. (No change in method necessary. Teaching should be of the highest grade. Students must find pleasure in the work. The class and curriculum problems are the same as ever, but courses in translation should be offered for a cultural acquaintance with the literature. Classes now have to be formed in some of the universities to. provide for the graduate students in other departments who need German. The falling off of interest in lan­ guages in the high schools has had an effect in the colleges not only on German. Language is dropping out of the school consciousness. All lan­ guage instruction will suffer eventually unless there is cooperation among the language teachers for an improvement of the situation.) “Curriculum Changes to meet our Present Problems.” Professor E. H. Lauer. (With the revival of German in the high school courses and methods here must be better correlated to the college work than heretofore. Such a course of four years presented in detail.) “Economy in the Teaching of Elementary German.” Professor Charles Goettsch. (Numerous practical suggestions were offered in clear outline for the teaching of elementary and second year courses.) General discussion led by Professor B. J. Vos. (No attempt has been made in first year German grammars to use a monogeneous fundamental stock of words. Students using different primers have therefore acquired a surprisingly dissimilar preparation in vocabulary. At present 23 different grammars are used in over 100 of our better colleges. The sum of words used by these 23 grammars together amounts to more than 3500 words; the common stock of words found in each one of these grammars amounts to only 227 words. Attempts have been made by different people to set down a list of the most common German words. Wheelock and Meras have put up some very impractical compilations of words; Eierwirth’s list, the best of all, is antiquated. The author of this paper presented his own standardized vocabulary as a remedy to the present situation in vocabulary. His list is composed of 900 passive and 666 active words, based on the 23 grammars and elementary texts at present used in over 100 colleges and universities. A text-book using these 900 words will appear this fall.) Professor B. Q. Morgan was elected chairman for 1923, and empowered to appoint a secretary. The attendance was twenty-five. ' Romance Languages This section was divided into two groups, one for French and the other for Spanish. It was voted to continue the same arrangement in future, and to schedule the two meet­ ings at different hours. The attendance on both groups was seventy-five. (1) French Group Chairman: Professor Harry Kurz, Knox College. “The Purpose and Organization of a Survey Course in French Literature.” Professor Charles E. Young. Owing to the illness of Professor Young his paper was read by Professor Bush. Outstanding points: The survey course is unavoidable for a wide view. Some careful translation at the beginning of the text. The rest more rapidly. Survey class not a place for oratory or lectures, nor fine points. Not a place for grammar review, nor a basis for conversation. Better skip Pascal and Bossuet. Corneille and Racine and Moliere should not be read by selections. Better to read a few plays. Three outstanding aims are linguistic, aesthetic and historic. There was discussion by Messrs. MacClintock, Brush and Bovee. In the absence of Miss Helen Bidal of Carleton College her paper discussing the same subject was read by the Chairman. “The Four-Foot Shelf of the High School Teacher of French.” Professor Russell P. Jameson. This paper presented an interesting and useful bibliography for students preparing to teach French and for young teachers. His bibliography in­ cludes dictionaries, grammars, histories of literature, art, music, general histories, linguistics, and pronunciation. This last paper exhausted the remaining time, and it was a matter of regret that Professor F. E Bedford, Ball Teachers College, who was to discuss this paper, and Professor George D. Morris, who offered a paper on “Lesson Planning for First-Year French Classes,” could not be heard from. Pro­ fessor Jameson will be chairman for French for the next year, and Professor Bovee secretary. (2) Spanish Group Chairman: Professor Ralph E. House, State University of Iowa. “The Survey Course in Spanish Literature.” The whole program was given to an interesting general discussion of this subject led by Professor G. T. Northup. The following officers were appointed to prepare the pro­ gram for 1923 for the Spanish group: Chairman, Professor Dale; Secretary, Professor Arthur L. Owen. At 6:30 P.M., there was a subscription dinner in the quarters of the Traffic Club, Hotel La Salle. Professor Nitze acted as Toastmaster. The chief speakers of the evening were Professor J. F. A. Pyre, University of Wisconsin, and Provost Gordon Lang, University of Toronto. Professors Henri David, University of. Chicago, and Alfonso de Salvio, Northwestern University, gave an admirable presentation of a scene from Moliere’s “Avare.” Professor Arthur Bovee gave some excellent music. FOURTH SESSION, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 30, 9 A. M. ROOM 401 NORTHWESTERN LAW BUILDING Business Meeting The business meeting was called to order by Chairman W. A. Nitze. The Secretary reviewed the minutes of 1921 and called attention to several items of unfinished business. The Secretary read a letter of greeting to the people of the Central Division from the Secretary of the Modern Language Association of America, Professor Carleton Brown. The Secretary called the roll of the research groups, asking for the names of officers appointed, the attendance, etc. The Division proceeded to the discussion of the research groups. In this participated Messrs. Knott, Arthur Brown, Craig, Faurot, Kurz, B. E. Young, Nitze, H. S. V. Jones, Coffman, Brush, Hohlfeld, J. H. Scott, H. A. Smith, Mc­ Kenzie, Morgan, Baskervill and others. Professor Knott’s plan for the Chaucer Research Group of 1923 was much favored. It is as follows: “The Chairman, with cooperation of other members, will survey the research output of the past three years, and will determine the most promis­ ing two or three fields or subjects for research. Two of these will be assigned early in the year to two or three persons each, in order that they may pre­ pare five or ten minute talks on proposals for the most advantageous re­ search. The object is to organize in advance an effective type of round table—one that will have an objective or two and that will progress towards that objective. The objective is to open up more research work.” Professors Arthur Brown and H. S. V. Jones suggested having very few papers and bringing in critical literature for discussion. Professor Nitze spoke of the value of a syllabus with a definite program to follow, as preferred by Professor Coffman. The latter was called upon to describe the success­ ful plan used by him in mediaeval Latin. Miss Fredericks Blankner proposed a group in French Metrics. Professor H. A. Smith offered the following resolution which was adopted: “Resolved, That it be the sense of this meeting that we lengthen the present time for program by a half day, probably by using the morning of the first day, but giving the Secretary power to decide this matter.” Professor Knott asked for an expression of opinion on the usefulness of the sections on instruction. In the dis­ cussion that followed, by Messrs. Faurot, Kurz, Craig, Young and Nitze, the feeling seemed to be that these sections were exceedingly useful for French and German where elementary courses must be taught, but less necessary in English. The report of the Committee on Grammatical Nomencla­ ture, to the effect that the work of the committee was practi­ cally completed, was made by Professor E. H. Wilkins. The report was accepted and it was voted to cooperate in the continuation of the committee. Secretary Young read an appeal from the League of Nations on behalf of the Austrian universities. Professor Smith moved indorsement of it and it was so voted. Professor Hugh A. Smith called up again his resolution of the 1920 meeting, as follows: “Whereas, The salary paid at present to the Secretary of the Central Division affords him little margin over the expense of attending the annual meetings, therefore, be it Resolved, That we recommend to the Executive Council that the Secre­ tary’s vouchers for annual necessary expenses in attending the meetings and for clerical assistant in carrying on the work of the Division be allowed, to an amount not exceeding $100 additional to his present salary.” As it appeared that the Executive Council, for fear of a possible deficit, postponed this allowance until 1922, and as it appeared that the said deficit failed to occur, Professor Smith moved that his resolution be readopted, with its provisions to apply from the original date. With an amend­ ment by Professor Thomas A. Knott, making the action still more definite, “retroactive and to include back payment for 1921,” the resolution was readopted and the Secretary was instructed .to communicate this action to the proper authorities. Professor McKenzie offered the following resolution: Whereas, the Central Division of the Modem Language Association, originally formed for the benefit of members who could not conveniently attend the annual meetings in the East, has at present no voice in the transaction of the business of the Association as a whole or in the election of the general officers, except at union meetings, Resolved, That it is the sentiment of the Central Division that henceforth the Modern Language Association ought to be organized as two or more coordinate and autonomous Divisions, each with its own program and territory, and each electing its own President, Secretary and other officers for the conduct of its affairs; and that officers whose duties concern the Association as a whole should be elected only at union meetings, Resolved, That the Secretary of the Central Division be instructed to bring this matter to the attention of the Executive Council of the Associa­ tion with a view to the possibility of presenting amendments to the Consti­ tution at the Union Meeting of 1923, or for such other action as the Council may deem suitable.” This resolution was discussed by Messrs. Knott, Morgan, Baskervill, Smith, Hohlfeld, Young and Faurot. Upon the motion of the latter the resolution was adopted, the Executive Committee being instructed to improve the phraseology if necessary. The Committee on Nomination of New Officers, Professor McKenzie, Chairman, brought in the following nominations: George O. Curme, Northwestern University, for Chairman; Hugh Thieme, University of Michigan, and Walter C. Curry, Vanderbilt University, for Vice Chairmen; Bert E. Young, Indiana University, for Secretary; Executive Committee: T. P. Cross, University of Chicago (term expiring in 1923); B. J. Vos, Indiana University (1924); A. C. L. Brown, Northwestern University (1925); C. D. Zdanowicz, Uni­ versity of Wisconsin, (1926); W. A. Nitze, University of Chicago (1927), and the Chairman and the Secretary, ex officio. The Secretary cast the ballot of the Division for these nominees. The Committee on Resolutions, Professor Carnahan, Chairman, offered the following resolution of thanks: “Resolved, That we express our sincere appreciation of the hospitality extended to us, as members of the Central Division of the Modern Language Association, by the University of Chicago and Northwestern University; that we thank the presidents and faculties of these universities for their kindly welcome, and that we express our appreciation to the members of the local committee for the fine entertainment which they have furnished us, under the able leadership of Professors A. Coleman and W. F. Bryan. This resolution was adopted by a rising vote. SPECIAL SESSION The business meeting was followed by a session at eleven devoted to talks on the educational opportunities under present conditions in foreign countries. Foreign Study Chairman: Professor Hardin Craig, State University of Iowa. “The Present Opportunities for University Work in Ger­ many.” Professor A. R. Hohlfeld. “Opportunities for Advanced Study and Research in the Italian Universities.” Professor Kenneth McKenzie. Ex­ change Professor, Italian Universities, 1921-22. “The Possibilities for American Students in the Summer School in Mexico City, the National Archives and Their National Library.” Professor William Oliver Farnsworth, Delegate, 1922, to the National University of Mexico. Adjournment. PAPERS PRESENTED (To be read by Title only] “Gay’s ‘Polly’ in Relation to Dramatic Censorship and Literary Satire.” Professor George R. Coffman. “Chauntecleer and Pertelote on Dreams,” by Professor W. C. Curry. “A Practical Modem Bibliography of French Literature of the Sixteenth Century.” Professor Harry Kurz, Knox College. “The Adventures of Gilbert Imlay.” Professor R. L. Rusk, Indiana University. “Voltaire and Spain.” Professor A. de Salvio, Northwestern University. “Voltaire and Gacon.” Mr. George B. Watts, University of Minnesota. MEETING OF THE PHILOLOGICAL ASSOCIATION OF THE PACIFIC COAST The Twenty-fourth Annual Meeting of the Philological Association of the Pacific Coast was held at the Hotel Bellevue, San Francisco, December 1 and 2, 1922, President Monroe E. Deutsch presiding at all sessions. The following business was transacted: The minutes of the last annual meeting were approved as printed in the Publications of the Modern Language Association and to be printed in the Transactions of the American Philological Association. The Treasurer made the following report for the year 1921-1922: Receipts Balance on hand Dec. 7, 1921.............................................$218.30 Interest.................................................................................... 3.88 Dues......................................................................................... 540.80 $762.98 Expenditures Hotel St. Francis (room for 1921 meeting)........................ $10.00 University Club (waiters’ gratuity).................................... 5.00 Printing................................................................................... 72.50 Postage, carfare and expressage........................................... 10.74 Typing and mimeographing................................................. 6.50 Dues to Modem Language Association.............................. 255.71 Dues to American Philological Association........................ 155.00 Balance on hand Dec. 1, 1922.............................................. 247.53 $762.98 On motion the report was accepted and referred to the Auditing Committee. The appointment of the following committees was an­ nounced by the President: Nominating: Professors Schilling, Nutting, Johnston. Auditing: Professors Elmore, Bruce. Social: Professors Hart, Richardson, Tatlock. The Secretary’s report consisted chiefly of statistics of membership for the past year, and notice of the election of 36 new members. It was moved and seconded that the nominating committee be made permanent, one member to be elected each year. By vote of the members present further consideration of the motion was deferred until Saturday morning. The report of the nominating committee was read and accepted, and by vote the following officers were elected for the ensuing year: President: C. G. Allen. Vice-Presidents: A. P. McKinlay, B. 0. Foster. Secretary: A. G. Kennedy. Treasurer: W. L. Schwartz. Executive Committee: The above-named officers and R. M. Alden, R. Schevill, E. A. Wicher, C. Paschall. The Auditing Committee reported that the accounts and vouchers of the Treasurer were correct and in order. On motion the report was accepted and approved. The Association then voted that the nominating com­ mittee shall consist henceforth of three members, shall be appointed by the President, and each member shall hold office for three years, the respective terms of office to expire in successive years. In case of the absence of any member of the committee from the annual meeting, the President shall fill the vacancy with a temporary appointment. To initiate this system, the incoming President shall select two members from the nominating committee of the present session and add a third, indicating the terms of office of these members as of 1, 2 and 3 years. On motion a vote of thanks was extended to the University Club for hospitality and the Treasurer was authorized to pay $10.00 to the “Christmas Box” for the waiters of the Club. It was also voted that the President be authorized to ap­ point each year certain members whose duty it should be to carry to the American Philological Association and the Modern Language Association of America the greetings of the Philological Association of the Pacific Coast, the choice to be made from those members likely to be in attendance at the annual meetings of the Eastern associations. By motion the President was authorized to appoint a committee of three to represent the Association and assist it in keeping in touch with the movement started at the last annual meeting of the Modern Language Association of America for the promotion of the study of medieval Latin literature. It was further voted that the Philological Associa­ tion of the Pacific Coast recommend the appointment of Professor E. K. Rand as the American representative on the committee having in charge the publication of a new medieval Latin dictionary. Professor R. M. Alden called the attention of the members to the desirability of cooperating with and supporting the Modern Humanities Research Association. The attendane at the four sessions numbered 50, 50, 40 and 38 respectively. Arthur G. Kennedy, Secretary. PROGRAM First Session Friday, December 1, at 10 a.m. 1. The Ballad of Ebbe Skammelson and the English King Horn, by Professor Arthur G. Brodeur, of the University of California. 2. The Poems of the Appendix Vergiliana, by Professor H. R. Fairclough, of the Leland Stanford Junior University. 3. William Blake and Gilchrist’s Remarkable Coterie of Advanced Thinkers by Professor Harold Bruce, of the University of California. 4. Some Recent Criticisms of the Communal Theory of Ballad Origins, by Professor Robert W. Gordon, of the University of California. Second Session Friday, December 1, at 2 p.m. 5. Annual Address of the President of the Association, Professor Monroe E. Deutsch, of the University of Califor­ nia: Caesar’s Triumphs. 6. Conference in Mediaeval Latin Literature and Its Relation: a. To Mediaeval Culture in General, by Professor L. J. Paetow, of the University of California. b. To Classical Latin Literature, by Professor Max Radin, of the Uni­ versity of California. c. To Mediaeval Vernacular Literature, by Professor E. C. Hills, of the University of California. d. To Modem Literature, by Professor W. D. Briggs, of the Leland Stanford Junior University. e. The Work and Plans of the Section on Mediaeval Latin, of the Modern Language Association of America, by Professor J. S. P. Tatlock. Third Session Saturday, December 2, at 10 a.m. 7. An Early American Poet, by Professor Howard J. Hall, of the Leland Stanford Junior University. 8. A Possible Origin of Duodecimal Counting, by Professor Clarence Paschall, of the University of California. 9. Marionettes in the Time of Shakespeare, by Professor Mathurin Dondo, of the University of California. 10. Mediaeval Interest in the Origin of Idolatry and Classical Paganism, by Professor John D. Cooke, of the University of Southern California. Fourth Session Saturday, December 2, at 2 p.m. 11. D’Avenant and Thomas Heywood: A New Source for the Siege of Rhodes, by Professor Alwin Thaler, of the University of California. 12. Hamlet, and the Anti-Elizabethan Reaction, by Professor Thomas K. Whipple, of the University of Cali­ fornia. 13. The Attic Libel Law and Freedom of Speech, by Professor Max Radin, of the University of California. 14. The Infant Alexander, by Professor Willard H. Durham, of the University of California. 15. Swift in the Twentieth Century, by Professor Guy Mongomery, of the University of California. 16. Two Brief Papers on the New Testament, by Pro­ fessor Edward A. Wicher of the San Francisco Theological Seminary. a. The use of 6 in Mark 12:20. A discussion of the primacy of Judas Iscariot in the company of the twelve disciples. b. ’ETTiovo-ioy in the Lord’s Prayer. 17. Classical Traditions in Mediaeval Irish Literature, by Professor Edward G. Cox, of the University of Washing­ ton. MODERN LANGUAGE SCHOLARSHIP: AN ENQUIRY* By William Albert Nitze Por la costume maintenir De vostre fontainne deffandre.—Yvain, 1848 ff. In choosing this text from my favorite Old French poet, I have no designs on my audience. Be undisturbed; the Red Knight of Arthurian romance shall not obtrude his counte­ nance here and it is indifferent to me—on this occasion ■—whether there are fairy-mistresses or not. Nor am I, as some of you might think, making the ambitious attempt of defending anew the Pierian Spring. Poetry today needs no defence, unless it be the defense d’imprinter, which applies to us all, poets and philologs alike, when our knowledge and inspiration lag, and the product is not worthy of the producer. My task is at once more prosaic and more definite. I propose merely to stand my ground, as a Modern Language teacher and scholar; to state, in my own way, what I think we are about, as one convinced of the value of our profession in itself and to others—despite the blight of misgivings and protests, from one quarter and another, which periodically threatens us with ruin. This, then, is the Spring which your Chairman—like so many Chairmen before him—would defend and, if possible, protect against contamination. In many respects, the position of the Modern Language profession has never been more favorable than it is today. We have come through the period of the Great War, like the rest of mankind seared perhaps as to our hopes, but on the whole with our consciences clear and our opportunities for work and services greater than before. In making this statement, I do not overlook the fact that our growth has been accompanied by considerable disproportion. The * The Chairman’s Address, delivered on Thursday, December 28, 1922, at Chicago, Ill., at the Twenty-seventh Annual Meeting of the Central Division of the Modem Language Association of America. German language (and literature) does not yet re-occupy the position to which it is entitled in our school and college curricula, nor is it receiving the attention it should in the field of research. Whatever the causes of this continued neglect may be, and they are not one but many, our German brethren should be encouraged to pursue their subject with some of their old-time ardor—mindful of Schiller’s advice: Immer strebe zum Ganzen, und, kannst Du selber kein Ganzes werden, als dienendes Glied schliess’ an ein Ganzes Dich an. But it takes faith to move scholars as well as mountains, and until we believe that German is needed to accomplish our common task worthily, until it dawns on us that without German the Romance and the English scholar is bound in the long run to err, it may be futile to expect a readjustment. Meantime, let us rejoice in the fact that French, Spanish and even Italian flourish space and that English occupies a philological stronghold which not even Mr. Bryan can profit­ ably assail despite the circumstance that its curve is evolu­ tionary in the highest degree. Call to mind the history of the last hundred years, and you will realize how from the rallying cry of Schlegel—Pour faire avancer la philologie du moyen age, il faut y appliquer les principes de la philologie classique, our “science” has come to occupy the foreground in humanistic studies, to the detriment alas! of that classical philology which we were urged humbly to follow but which no one imagined we should so soon outdistance. I remember hearing the great Gildersleeve say: “How sad it is that I should live to see Greek considered as an Oriental language.” And a classical colleague of mine1 recently stated in a public address: “There was a time when the classics and moderns were arrayed against one another. How childish that debate seems as we look back upon it! It should now be fully recog­ nized that the cause of the one is the cause of the other; that if classical philology goes, all philology will go. They must stand together, as the main bulwark of humanistic 1 Professor Gordon Laing, University [Chicago} Record, VIII. culture.” Coming from a classicist, who is also a distin­ guished administrator, this vox clamantis should not go unheeded. Thus, admitting that the mantle of the classics has fallen on the shoulders of the moderns, the question is: Are we equal to the occasion? Can the literary and linguistic culture of the ages be safely entrusted to our keeping? Or shall we, as another speaker before this Association once trenchantly said, “Nero-like fiddle away our time while the flame of a misguided ambition consumes the city of our hopes?” There should be no delay in making two observations: First, we cannot and should not, as the guardians of culture, set our minds primarily on being what is called “practical.” Secondly, it is not “practical” to neglect scholarship, for it can be shown that every advance in linguistic and literary teaching has been preceded by an advance in linguistic and literary scholarship. Let me not be misunderstood. As one of the founders of our National Federation of Modern Language Teachers, I should be the last person to minimize the importance of the “art” of teaching. In the language field especially, “the traditional or conventional value of a subject is not sufficient to make it acceptable if it is not well taught” (Ogden in MLJ V, 354). Every experienced person knows how difficult is the art of teaching a language in such a country as ours, in which definiteness and continuity of purpose are so rarely obtainable. Where, for example, should the high school leave off and the college begin—in subjects like French and Spanish? If training in the “recognition” of foreign sounds and sentences be the Open Sesame of the language methodists today, at what particular point of in­ struction does “reproduction” begin? If Phonetics is an essential aid in teaching modern foreign languages, who will design for us a graded course in Phonetics, suited to our national needs? These and a host of other questions the writers for our Modern Language Journal are endeavoring to answer, and far be it from me to disparage the worthiness of PROCEEDINGS FOR 1922 lxix their efforts. Let them have all the encouragement they deserve. At the same time, in this swing of the pendulum toward the “practical,” there is danger, I believe, of putting the cart before the horse. If we need teachers, still more do we need scholars and the opportunities for scholarship. Or am I, in the terms of the French adage, knocking at an open door? Let us stop a moment to consider. Those who drew up the Constitution of the Modern Language Association were wisely liberal as to its provisions. They did not exclude from our program, the pedagogy of our subjects, yet they indicated clearly where the chief emphasis of the Association was to be placed. Our object, they said, is “the advance­ ment of the study of the Modern Languages and their Literatures through the promotion of friendly relations among scholars”—and having given this sop to Cerberus— they continued: “through the publication of results of in­ vestigation by members, and through the presentation and discussion of papers at an annual meeting.” To this general program we have clung tenaciously for nearly forty years, making but two changes in it, each of a subsidiary character. The Central Division has devoted a fraction of its meetings to pedagogical discussions, and last year a program was worked out by Professor Manly to stimulate investigation according to methods which are at once sounder and more comprehensive than those of the past. Thus not only has the Modern Language Association been true to its tenets but it has been progressive in meeting new opportunities. Nevertheless, how do we stand today as measured by the demon, Success? How do we appear to the more intelligent members of the public, whose interests we may be supposed to serve? What recognition and encouragement are legiti­ mately ours? I need not go so far afield as to interrogate our iconoclastic Menckens for an answer. There are voices, nearer home, ready with a reply if we will but listen to them. Ask any of your respective Boards of Trustees, Overseers or Regents as to their opinion of our purposes and attainments. “Professor,” said a janitor to one of my colleagues the other day, “I did not see your name in the President’s bibliography.” Surely, where janitors are solicitous, trustees and presidents will know that we have contributed not only pebbles but brick and stone to the building of the Oxford Dictionary, the Cam­ bridge Histories of Literature, the first complete edition of Cervantes’ work, etc., not to dwell on the fact that several of our number have done their share in restoring Irish learn­ ing to the literary map of Europe. Undeceive yourselves. Few, if any, of our trustees and presidents, know anything of the kind; and did they, there are other more important matters to engage their attention. What they probably are sadly aware of is that some particular professor of Modern Languages did not enable them to chatter glibly in French or German, overlooking, as Professor Shorey has said, that none of these gentlemen would distinguish himself now “if examined on mediaeval history, conic sections, organic chemistry, or whatever else he happened to elect when in college.”2 Or to quote again the words of George Eliot, “the depth of middle-aged gentlemen’s ignorance will never be known for want of public examinations in this branch.” There are of course many reasons why so few of our college graduates learn to speak foreign languages. I need not bore you tonight with an enumeration of them. The fact is that more and more of our college students are learning to speak a foreign language and I for my part hope and expect to see their numbers grow. But the mere ability to speak a foreign language is here beside the point, and the really lamentable thing for America in general is that so small a number of college graduates have a knowledge of foreign civilizations as reflected in European science, literature and art. Where- ever a university trustee or president is himself actively engaged in reading foreign literature of one type or another, you can count upon him to understand and further the - School Review, XVIII, 589. RROCIEDINGS TOR 1922 Ixxi teaching—and even research-—of that branch; but absit omen, I am not aware that any such is making himself vociferously heard in our behalf. While the Rockefellers give to Medicine, the Carnegies to History and Economics, and Colonel Thompson lavishes $10,000,000 on fundamental research in Botany, we, the purveyors of Modern Culture, have practically been left to our own resources. Professor Spingarn, surveying the scene from his ivory- tower of discontent, would join the ranks of the extremists by questioning whether America has any scholarship to encourage. As a contributor to an enquiry on American Civilization,3 the title of which might properly have been “My Country Right or Wrong, and Mostly Wrong,” he glibly gives us the once over and concludes: “All is shell, mask, and a deep inner emptiness. We have scholars without scholarship, as there are churches without religion.” “No great work of classical learning has ever been achieved by an American scholar,” and “a very characteristic academic prod­ uct is the professor who writes popular articles, sometimes clever, sometimes precious, sometimes genteel and refined, sometimes commonplace, but almost always devoid of real knowledge or stimulating thought.” To the solider qualities of Professor Spingarn’s essay I shall return presently. Nor is there now time to defend our cause, as it deserves, pugnis et calcibus, unguibus et rostro. Yet I must observe that America has no monopoly on the unscholarly scholar—he flourishes in other climes as well as ours. Shorey’s phrase about “the triple sawdust of Stemp- linger’s Horaz”—whether justified or not—should put us on our guard against the assumption that European scholarship is prevailingly “stimulating.” And I should only be heaping coals or fire on Professor Spingarn’s head if I observed that A History of Literary Criticism in the Renaissance is a pioneer scholarly work of the first order, by an American. If—as our critic affirms—Gilbert Murray, Croiset, and Wilamowitz are 3 Civilization in the United States, 1922, pp. 93-108. European scholars with whom “it would be unfair to suggest comparison,” what about Whitney, Child, Gummere, Kittredge and Shorey? Are not these names significant enough to challenge comparison? Or is there an inherent difference in scholarship, according to whether it has the European or American trade-mark? Frankly I believe the profession is far better off than Professor Spingarn will admit. Young as America is, it has an honorable scholarly tradition, based on adequate ideals and considerable genuine achieve­ ment. But as compared with Europe, our scholars are scattered over a vast territory and—except for occasions like the present—we are forced to toil alone without the zest that springs from companionship and a ready, personal exchange of ideas. Moreover let us not forget that in certain fields of research the larger problems of investigation had necessarily to await the solution of minor problems of editing. This is particularly true of Spanish, for instance, where serviceable school and college texts had for a long time to be the first consideration. Yet it may not be amiss to remind our critic that Bonilla y San Martin in the preface to a long forgotten Spanish novel has a diablo cojuelo lift the roofs from Spanish book-shops filled with enviable American editions of Spanish Classics. Professor Spingarn knows that Ticknor’s History of Spanish Literature was a pioneer work in its field, but apparently he does not know that Fitz- maurice-Kelly acknowledges his debt to many an American monograph for the improvement he has made on Ticknor. The fact is—and it needs a lot of reiteration in this age of journalistic slapdash—that scholarship is a meticulous under­ taking. It cannot be conjured into being merely by good-will or what is called inspiration or brilliancy. Doubtless great scholars are born, just like poets. Still more are they made, like journeymen. “La psychologie historique,” says Gaston Paris, thus designating the sum total of our humanistic endeavor, “ne se developpe que grace a une infinite de re- cherches extremement precises et souvent extremement tenues; elle est peut-etre, a l’heure qu’il est, la plus arriferee des sciences, et cela s’explique par son importance et sa complexity memes: l’anthropologie, 1’ethnographic, la geo­ graphic, l’histoire des faits, celle des lois, des moeurs, des religions, des philosophies, des sciences, des arts, des lettres, doivent d’abord lui apporter leurs resultats ... Grace a la minutieuse exactitude, a la methode severe, a la critique a la fois large et rigoreuse qu’on exige maintenant de ceux qui font de l’histoire litteraire, celle-ci pourra bientot presenter a la science dont elle depend ... un tribut vraiment utile et pret a etre utilise.”4 * The great French scholar wrote these words in 1885. Since then much water, both clear and muddy, has flowed beneath the philological bridge. Yet the essential tenets of Gaston Paris are true today. Eloquence —Beredsamkeit—is not the same thing as scholarship. Time, which is our best ally because it is so merciless to the rhetori­ cian, will inevitably draw the distinction. Or to carry out the eschatology of the metaphor: “In my opinion,” said Gildersleeve to an audience at the University of Chicago, “the sawdust of learning will make a hotter fire than the shavings of rhetoric.”6 And from the same powerful per­ sonality came long ago the exhortation: “It is better to be a plodding man of science than a mouthing and phrasing rhe­ torician; and we have every right to show impatience with literary bric-a-brac in our calling, and to insist on technical training for the critic of Plato and the eulogist of Demos­ thenes.”6 But it is time for us to restourner a nos moutons whom we left straying outside of Professor Spingarn’s stronghold. To take arms against the bogey of the “practical” in our scholar­ ship—as so many others have done before me—would be idle repetition unless it amounted to something more than saying: The sin I impute to each frustrate ghost Is the lamp unlit and the ungirt loin. 4 Poisie du moyen dge, p. xii. 8 University Record, VI, 53. 8 Johns Hopkins University Circular, no. 150, p. 11. For if our scholarship is good and our faith is sound—as I venture to affirm they are—then they must contain within themselves the means of stirring a public whose dormant, inner life has not yet been roused. It remains, however, to state what these means are and how to make them effec­ tive. First, and above all, let us practice patience. It is the teacher’s virtue—it is also the scholar’s. But, in so doing, let us be conscious of the role we have to play; the liberty of the scholar, like all other liberties, is born of the union of consciousness and strength. The well-known Sitzfleiss of the Germans has achieved victories which the Germans might well have taken to heart when other things than scholarship were at stake. America has yet to learn that valuable discoveries are not made overnight. The remedy, in my estimation, is not to cultivate erudition less but to apply it more assiduously to the problems we have in hand. A glance at tomorrow’s program will show how numerous they are. Whether or not they will become “vital” to a larger circle than our own, will depend primarily upon our own attitude. Yet we know beforehand that no one of the topics under discussion will amount to much unless we have the patience to bring the whole weight of our scholarship to bear upon it and then to await the verdict of Time. The most significant work on the Old French epic—Bedier’s Legendes epiques—was not the product of a single year or of a single mind; it was the result rather of a long period of exploration in which the true path had been blazed inde­ pendently by an Austrian and an American investigator. Thus, as Professor Armstrong so aptly reminds us: Tout vient d point a qui sait attendre (“There’s always a right moment comes to him who is canny in waiting”), and unless I read the present horoscope amiss we shall not, as a body, have to wait so very long. Such essays as Professor Spin- garn’s should fill us with new hope . Certainly, the material­ ism of the masses is getting some rude buffets. Our so-called young radicals are ruffling not only shallow waters but also the deeper streams of our national complacency. In every direction, there is among our youth a current of protest against our spiritual shyness, our tendency to conform, our trust—born of fear—that our intellectual progress depends on “organization and administration as opposed to individual effort.” All of which receives a fitting climax in Mr. Pic- coli’s quotat on from a Chinese friend that “an American university is an athletic association in which certain op­ portunities for study are provided for the feeble-bodied.” It is hopeful, I say, when we thoughtfully swallow such a gibe from a foreigner, while, at the same time, we bend our efforts to mend our ways. Thus, I optimistically see signs that we are preparing for better days. Is not one of America’s best-sellers, Van Wyck Brook’s Gilded Age, an indication, that, as a nation, we are not only able but also ready to measure the average American outook on life by genuine humanistic standards? Main Street and Haldeman-Julius’ Dust may seem like freshets as compared with the sociological ocean of a Balzac or a Dickens, but again they are a promise of a brighter future in which our literature—and with it our art and our scholarship —shall be energized into a pulsating national culture. Meantime, patience appears to me to be the scholar’s primal asset in this era of change and uncertainty; provided always patience is not made synonymous with indolence or with self-interest. But where everybody, the ignorant and hasty as well as the wise and learned, is ready to pronounce judgment, it is well to have a few solid souls who, unlike La Fontaine’s reed, do not bend to every wind that blows. The true scholar knows that certain things said by Plato and Aristotle, by Dante and Aquinas, by Goethe and Herder, by Gaston Paris, and Lanson, are eternally true. The point of view may change, the emphasis may shift, but the scholar’s aim is to see things sub specie aeternitatis—and, as an ideal, anything short of this is failure. But are we, one may ask, always actively engaged in putting our patience to the tests? At present our colleges and universities are experimenting with a course on Contem­ porary Civilization. Columbia, Amherst, Dartmouth, and a host of other institutions, alarmed at the undergraduate’s lack of interest in study are seeking to stimulate it anew. Your distinguished chairman of last year expressed his well-grounded doubts as to the wisdom of resorting to such a palliative—for palliative it necessarily is when we relegate to a group of teachers what should have been the business of each one of them. “To see all in the one” is the concern of every teacher, of every scholar, carrying the enthusiasm for his calling with him; and who has—or should have—a closer contact with “life” than the teacher of Modern Lan­ guages? Yet no argument can dam a stream of tendency. If then the “general course” is a certainty, just as Wells’ Outline of History and Van Loon’s The Story of Mankind are certainties, let us not take a stand against this new benevo­ lence. On the contrary, seeing what patience may achieve, let us contribute our moiety toward doing the thing well—as well as, under the circumstances, it can be done. The scholar will at least know what is feasible and what not, whether there is a sincere probing of the world’s problems, whether such a course is a demonstration of real knowledge, or a grand and delightful gesture like Cyrano’s in the play. This is a service that scholarship can render and, rendering it, fulfill its function. My second specific, though no less hortatory, is a bit more critical. And it amounts to saying: Let the scholar stand up for his ideals. Nothing of course is so blatant as advertising, and I very much doubt whether the Selbstanzeige of the Germanisch- romanische Monatschrift, if transplanted to this country, would raise us in the public esteem, let alone sell our books. But, if I may use a homely image, the American scholar is not unlike the canine in Rabelais’ Prologue who, finding a bone filled with marrow, keeps its precious contents to himself: Si veu l’avez—says Rabelais—vous avez peu noter de quelle devotion il le guette, de quel soin il le guarde, de quel ferveur il le tient, de quel pru­ dence il l’entomme, de quel affection il le brise, et de quel diligence il le sugce. American scholarship is still largely on the defensive. The scholar, as a rule, is too easily silenced with a pittance and a few hours of leisure for what is generously called his “research work” in order to make the collective headway he should either in his community or in his nation. By and large, we encourage our universities, through our own humility, to recruit their faculties with “harmless and guile­ less” teachers rather than with forceful and original per­ sonalities. Most American universities now recognize research in the humanities as a desideratum, an ornament so-to-speak of the scholar, a fringe on the lingerie of learning; but that it is a necessity, without which universities are such only in name, is not, I maintain, commonly held. To be sure, there are always notable exceptions; and other organiza­ tions besides our own are alive to the perils of the case. For if research in the humanities is necessary, then it is worth doing well and should be backed by all the resources the universities can command. This would require consider­ able division of labor, a clearer recognition than we now have of what is a graduate school, a definite apportionment of professors to it, etc. In short, the scholar would have to be rewarded for scholarship, and primarily for nothing else. The American Association of University Professors has recently published some interesting observations on the subject. Yet illuminating as these are, they will be as effective as a fly caught in amber, unless, somehow or other, our administrators will take them to heart. And here surely the laissez-faire attitude will get us nowhere. What scholarship really needs, I think, is a judicious and well-directed offensive: in behalf of its ideals, its personnel, and its service to society. And the more concrete the in­ stances, the more useful our offensive will prove. For example, when in the New Republic (XXXI, 336) P. L. points the finger of scorn at A List of American Doctoral Dissertations Printed in 1920 and then includes in his de­ rision Oliver Towles’ Prepositional Phrases of Asseveration and Adjuration in Old and Middle French, we might as well join in the laughter. Certainly, a defense of Towles, at this late date, would be worse than useless. However, who is to blame for this quixotic thrust at the grist-mill of our Ph.D.’s? We cannot condemn P. L., for irony is part of his job. To my humble thinking, it is not the system that is here at fault, but the fact that we have never taken the trouble to explain intelligently to the American mind what that system is. To judge merely by titles, a dissertation on Vergil’s Influence on tke Renaissance, if it did not win P. L.’s approval might at least have escaped his scorn—for it is quite clear that P. L. knows and appreciates the Classics. Nevertheless, as a dissertation-subject such a choice would have courted dangers that any specialist who has any inkling of the field could at once have pointed out. This is only one instance of the misconception that even the best of outsiders has of our function. Because of our silence, the layman does not know that a dissertation is primarily an exercise in scientific accuracy, a symbol that the disserta- tor is able to wield his tools, a demonstration of a merciless objective method—perhaps alas! the only such demonstra­ tion the candidate will have the stoicism to make—rather than a real enrichment of human knowledge, which in any case is reserved for the few to achieve and for which such training in accuracy is the only preparation humanly con­ ceivable. I have no illusions about the value of dissertations as a class. I will grant you that the archetype has not yet been found and that meanwhile there is room, plenty of it, for improvement. We might even, like the Curate and the Barber in Don Quijote, make a donoso y grande escrutinio of all the dissertations in our libraries. Only I venture to predict solemnly that before we applied the torch to so much printing, we would take ample and careful notes on this point or that, on the Inchoative Function of the French Past Absolute, on just what parts of the Body survived in Later Germanic Dialects, on why Sir Percival resembles a Great Fool, on which assonances in the Roland are echt- nachiveissbar and which not, etc., etc.—lest these and a host of other detailed problems assail us at an inopportune mo­ ment and put us to shame. For the Modern Language teacher knows, though he may not always admit the fact, that his teaching is a constant test of his scholarship. To the first-year graduate student a course in Old French may seem futile, especially when his heart longs for Modern English fiction, but place him in a high-school class in English and let a pupil ask him why “veal” is not called “calf” and “beef” is not called “ox,” and his longing may be reversed. The layman may think it a waste of time to investigate end-consonants in French, ask him to pronounce one and he may learn to appreciate Professor Barker’s discovery that they must be sounded as if “initial.” Such examples all of us here could multiply a hundredfold, each from the wealth of his own experience. That being the case, has not the time come for less modesty and more asseveration and adjuration on our own part? Why leave this role to the French prepositions or to H. L. Mencken’s oscillations in American Philology? The abusive controversies of Renaissance scholars had at least the value that they let no one forget that scholarship was alive, whereas there is sober fact in Professor Spingarn’s statement that the American University of today is “timid and anaemic because it lacks that quixotic fire which inheres in every act of faith.” Biologically speaking, the scholar needs the refreshment of direct action. He also needs the encourage­ ment that comes from legitimate recognition. If the public lack enlightenment, why not tell them our story, as the scientists are telling theirs, in a series of popular manuals which the average person can understand. Here is a task that some of our University Presses can legitimately under­ take. In the long run it might prove far more useful—and certainly more remunerative—than the multiplication of existing types of journals and monographs, which in them­ selves may be excellent but because of their number and diversity are already a serious problem to our libraries and bibliographers, not to mention subscribers. If the sciences have their “romance,” what shall we say of philology? The progress that has been made in the various fields of syntax, etymology, semantics, literary history, etc. would make a fascinating account, if properly sifted and presented. As can be seen from the recent monumental work of Jesper- son, Language, its Nature, Development and Origin, there are countless respects in which the history of language abounds in matters of general human interest. And owing to pho­ netics, the phonologies of the past can be made as vivid as the “thin Irish pronunciation” that survives in the old lines: Poor Lucinda Was burnt to a cinder, And that was the end of “she”; For once she was tender, But now she is tinder,— How that poor girl suffered for me! “I began,” says Gildersleeve, “as a literary aspirant. I have wound up as a statistical syntactician.” “Yet,” con­ tinues this veteran of the philological guild, “I would reiterate the confession of my faith in the formulae of my youth, my belief in the wider conception of philological work, in the necessity of bringing all our special training into relation with the whole of philological truth, the life of the world, the life of humanity.” But my conscience tells me that I should exhort less and demonstrate more or my audience will be justified in imitat­ ing Panurge, who “sans autre chose dire, jette en pleine mer son mouton criant et bellant.” Still I should not be true to my exordium if I did not insist, as my third and last point, that our teaching should be made to rest firmly on our scholarship. As has been said over and over again, teaching is to scholar­ ship as “art” is to “science.” In the exercise of our profes­ sion we may pursue the one without the other, but if we do so I cannot help thinking that it is an imperfect thing that we pursue. My colleagues in the University of Chicago assure me that Michelson is such a great scientist because he is also an excellent teacher: one who knows how to demonstrate simply the discoveries he has made. Such a man you will say is exceptional, but there is no exception to the rule that a good teacher must be scholarly. While teaching is a talent, yet it is one that does not utterly elude analysis; and one of the basic principles of good teaching is that it springs full-armed from the mind of the person who knows his subject thoroughly. Knowing a subject well, it is a comparatively simple matter to devise methods for its presentation, provided of course we really take the time and the pains to do so intelligently. I am by no means blind to the fact that—at least, in our over-stocked college- classes—we generally do neither; that if the teaching of lan­ guage and literature were as serious a matter as, let us say, the teaching of engineering or dentistry, we should long ago have made our colleges remedy an intolerable situation; whereas here we are struggling on, year after year, with unwieldy classes of ill-assorted students, trusting more to fortune than to forethought that somehow our difficulties will iron themselves out. However that may be, nothing can be gained by the assumption that in the Modern Language classes we need teachers and not scholars. Substitute “method” for “knowl­ edge,” and you will commit the fallacy that underlies most of the cheap educationalism of modern times. Professor Dewey, who chides us for “sending out men to meet the exi­ gencies of contemporary life clothed in the chain-armor of antiquity,”7 recently asked: “What will happen if teachers become sufficiently courageous and emancipated to insist that education means the creation of the discriminating mind, a mind that prefers not to dupe itself or to be the dupe of others?” His answer is: “They will have to cultivate the habit of suspended judgment, of scepticism, of desire ’ Sew Republic, XXXII, 140. for evidence, of appeal to observation rather than sentiment, discussion rather than bias, inquiry rather than conven­ tional idealizations.” Exactly, one may add, the teacher must return to his scholarship, and it may turn out after all that the “chain-armor of antiquity” is for some people a safer garment than the rolled stocking of modernity. All of which amounts to saying with Brunot: “Il faut enseigner des choses vraies”; even in French Grammar, that nightmare of the methodists, this is the case. At the same time, there is a difficulty in this connection which inheres perhaps more in the Modern Languages than, for example, in Physics or History, and which, in all of our discussions, we are prone to overlook. The teacher of physics or history, assuming that he is something more than a makeshift or a propagandist, will capitalize the results of research in such a way that they will be directly reflected in his teaching. The physicist who knows nothing about “relativity” is simply not a physicist and be he ever so good an expositor of his subject. The historian who has not considered objectively the evidence he presents to his class, cannot hope nowadays to hold anybody’s interest. In the case of Modern Philology, however, research and teaching are not related in the same obvious way. Who cares whether X is an authority on the Peasant Vocabulary of George Sand, if the works of George Sand are never the subject of his teaching? Of what value to others is my knowledge of the Arthurian Cycle, unless I am giving a course on Geoffrey of Monmouth, Chretien de Troyes, or Tennyson? And my college or university may never be able to give me that opportunity. The argument is of course specious, as we all know, but that does not prevent it from bobbing up time and again, and at the most awkward moments. I have not time to answer it here in detail; nor is that at all necessary before this audience. But I should like to point out that—in my estimation—there are at least two reasons why the teaching of Modern Languages so often fails to produce in our students those higher results which we had so fondly expected, and why it does not obtain from the college-graduate and his associates the support and encouragement our efforts seem to merit. In the first place, it is simply because we do not stir the student’s imagination through the fruits of our scholarship. And, secondly, cul­ ture, of which we are—for better or for worse—the chief purveyors cannot be directly taught; it must be felt or experienced. The two things are so closely related that they amount to the same thing. For we do not aim to make the undergraduate primarily a scholar; that is the work of our graduate schools. What we are aiming to do is to awaken and cultivate the undergraduate’s taste, his judgment, his love of truth, his hate of sham—and, if we succeed in our attempt, we give him culture. It is our privilege to do this through the medium of language and literature; the lives that men have led, the thoughts they have had, the words they have spoken—all this and more is open to us for inter­ pretation. Obviously we cannot interpret it all. But each of us can seek the truth at some point, infinitesimal as it may seem, and with the experience thus gained he can illuminate in an ever-widening circle more and more mate­ rial; and, above all, he can lead others to follow his example— which is the recompense of all good teaching, graduate or undergraduate. In the final analysis, the teacher is only a leader. Some of you will express these things differently, many of you will express them better; but the fact remains, I believe—and I am now speaking “practically”—that it matters little in what channels our scholarship moves. The chief consideration is that it does move and thereby enables us to move others; for “men will work for the joy of com­ prehension, for the joy of beauty, for the joy of creative construction, as they will not work for less inspiring ends.” The same British Report on Modern Studies (p. 46) from which I have just quoted sums up my main contention as follows: All study has some moral values; Modern Studies are the study of man in all his higher activities, and thus may have a special moral value; but we need say no more of that. We are, and must be, concerned with Modem Studies as an instrument of culture, and by culture we mean that training which tends to develop the higher faculties, the imagination, the sense of beauty, and the intellectual comprehension. One object of scholarship, everyone admits, is to add to the world’s knowledge. Its other object—just as real, but not so generally admitted—is to make the teacher a truer, and therefore a better, exponent of culture. As for the Modern Languages, scholarship may do something more, but it should do nothing less. Thus, as I pull in my reins before coming to a full stop, I would re-affirm my faith in the ideals for which this Association has stood for nearly half a century. Scholar­ ship, like art and science, takes time, whereas life is noto­ riously short. I know that I am repeating a platitude. Yet in a country like the United States, where railroads have been built in a fortnight and cities have arisen in a genera­ tion, one cannot expect thoroughness to be regarded as a virtue or haste as a vice. Therefore a profession like ours is still necessarily at a discount. But for this very reason we Modern Language scholars should gather strength from our past achievements, and hope from our present oppor­ tunities, confident that the truth is our goal and that only the truth can set men free. “An educated man,” said Lord Morley in a moment of Aristotelian optimism, “is one who knows when a thing is proved and when it is not. An un­ educated man does not know.” This is at once a challenge and a promise to Modern Language scholarship of the future. It rests with us to make it a realization. THE MARKET FOR THE SCHOLARLY BOOK* The publication and distribution of books possessing a scholarly rather than a mercantile value present problems that are particularly adapted as subjects of consideration by the-Modern Language Association and upon the solution of which the academic investigator and the educational publisher may quite properly take counsel with each other. The entire question is also of more than timely importance not only for the advancement of pure scholarship but by reason of the fact that the unprecedented increase in our College and University enrollment and the interest mani­ fested by students in the pursuit of Modern Languages have brought the teacher face to face with the opportunity of expanding his advanced and graduate classes and, conse­ quently, with the need of supplying his courses with adequate and attractive tools of instruction. What is the actual state of affairs? Where does the scholar at present obtain serious books of this character? Where can he arrange for the publication of such books? What are the difficulties that confront the publishers? What remedies may be applied to conditions now prevailing? These questions can best be answered by means of a frank interchange of ideas. If, by the term “scholarly book” we understand, for our present purposes, the product of disciplined investigation in languages and literatures, ranging from editions of recog­ nized linguistic and literary monuments, and from compre­ hensive grammatical manuals of older dialects to the results of scholarly research in the science of General Linguistics, it must be stated at the outset that there exists no classified survey of such works as they are published annually by the American, English, German, and French book trades. Prior to the year 1911 the statistics of books issued in the United States lack all mention of the word “Philology.” Begin- * A paper read at the Philadelphia meeting of the Modem Language Association of America, December 28, 1922; see Proceedings, p. xx. ning with and subsequent to this year, “Philology” stands merely for a convenient class in which to place pell-mell all the educational publications that have even the remotest connection with languages and literatures. Thus, out of the average number of titles published in this country during the past decade, namely 10,000, the average for “Philology,” namely 250 titles, includes not only every single textbook in the field of Classical and Modern Languages, but such nondescript items as Soldiers’ Manuals for the Study of French and proposals for new universal languages. Only an inconsiderable percentage of titles can be ascribed to “Philology” in our sense, and even this number must be reduced to a minimum if we search for the works of American authors alone, and deduct those of foreign authors which are importations from England or translations from Conti­ nental countries. This, in a few words, represents the supply of available scholarly books,—perhaps not even 100 titles in Modern Languages,—to which an unquestionable American origin can be ascribed. As to their actual circulation, all figures are mere guesswork. There might be more circulation given to one old textbook in a year than to a hundred new and old scholarly titles selling in small editions. The government keeps no census of the scholarly books issued, nor even of the total book production, and publishers have good reasons for maintaining discreet silence. But, if one may judge from the curious fact that, for several years in succession, an almost identical number of works is published in such fields as Philosophy, Pedagogy, and even Philology, it is perhaps safe to assume that the idea of most scholars with respect to the outlet for scholarly books is an exaggerated one. Preface after Preface continues to state that a given work, intended primarily for academic use, is also adapted to the general reading public. But the general public, as is proven by statistics, hankers after works of Fiction, which often comprise 30% of the annual output of titles; it has of late become astonishingly interested in History, Religion, and the Social Sciences; but as for the Classics of Ancient and Modern Languages, it shows a decided preference for reading them, if at all, in translation; and, in the field of General Linguistics, it is very doubtful if one-tenth of one per cent of the public ever reads the fascinating pages of a book like Breaks Semantics, or of other even more popularly written books dealing with the historical development of the lan­ guage of daily life. With regard to the sales of sc'holarly books in the more limited academic circles which are intended to be the real beneficiaries of such publications, the average is much lower than is ordinarily imagined. The facts may be condensed in a few sentences. Count the number of institutions in this country where advanced and graduate work not only appears in the catalogs, but is actually given in the classroom. Mul­ tiply the small number by the baker’s dozen of serious stu­ dents in each of the schools. Add to the result a tenuous sprinkling of College and University libraries which make a practice of purchasing scholarly books for their reference shelves,—and you have a total of perhaps 100 copies sold annually of each of the books to the production of which the publisher has brought his courage and resources and the scholar many weary years, sometimes a lifetime, of devoted labor. Unless publishers in England and Continental Europe have, in some way, succeeded in outwitting the laws of sup­ ply and demand, we are.bound to admit that conditions there are vastly different from those in this country. Eng­ land offers, year after year, increasing facilities to the advanced student of languages and literatures. Anglo- Saxon, Old and Middle English manuals and texts; hand­ books in all the old Germanic dialects; editions of old French, Spanish, and Italian works; and primers even of Basque may be found in the catalogs of English publishers. France offers a supply of solid fundamental treatises in Experimental Phonetics and in Pure and Applied Linguis­ tics. No catalog from Germany reaches us without its abundance of books in Sprach- und Literaturwissenschaft, well nigh every one of them the result of valuable research, and all of them the index of some definite demand for books of scholarly character. Yet, in the United States, publica­ tions in Linguistic Science may almost be counted on the fingers of one’s hands; grammars, handbooks and chres- tomathies in the Germanic and Romance Languages,—with such sporadic exceptions as Grandgent’s Introduction to Vulgar Latin and Provencal Phonology and Morphology,— have to be imported from abroad; no scholar has yet come forward with an American edition of the Eddie Poems or the Poema de mio Cid; and it is only this year of 1922 which saw the first edition of Dante’s Vita Nuova, issued by the same publishing house that years ago had the enterprise to place Dante’s Dinina Commedia at the disposal of Amer­ ican scholars and is now undertaking a definitive edition of the old French Chanson de Roland. If we regard the still more important field of English Philology, how shall we explain the circumstance that an American edition of the Anglo-Saxon Beowulf has had to wait until the Spring of the present year? If the foregoing remarks seem to imply either the advocacy of a nationalistic conception of scholarship or the insinuation that we have a paucity of scholars competent to produce scholarly works, let me be the first to disclaim any such implication. The former proposition would be not only undesirable but actually impossible; the latter would not correspond with facts as we observe them. If a personal note may be permitted, I like to think that Professor Spin­ garn’s recent arraignment of our Universities as institutions that “seem to have been created for the special purpose of ignoring or destroying the spirit of scholarship,” is an under­ estimation of the value of the results attained by American scholars. We have to-day no scarcity of scholarly authori­ ties in whom we may take pride. What we lack, however, are better facilities for publishing and thus directly encourag­ ing works of research. Not long ago Dean Woodbridge of Columbia University called attention to the fact that the work of American scholars in the field of History is seriously hampered because of the difficulty of securing publication. Professor Cajori of the University of California is authority for the statement than in Mathematics no new books in advanced fields have been issued in this country in recent years, although several manuscripts are awaiting publica­ tion. Apparently, the field of Modern Languages is not the only one in which the present situation is to be deplored. The question naturally arises, “What attitude is taken by the publishing world in the crisis with which scholars are confronted?” The academic public is prone to believe that the bookman’s business is one of strict cash-registry. To a certain extent this is undeniable. As someone has aptly remarked, the publisher is in business to make profits; if he is a publisher for any other purpose, he is not in business. But with this much granted, the publishers of educational books must be set far apart from the generality of the trade. Dealing as they do continually with the means of education, the cause of academic education becomes one of their chief concerns. And in view of the fact that the number of books distributed thru the American schools exceeds all the volumes circu­ lated thru the trade channels, it is proper and desirable that the leaders, at least, among the educational publishers should adopt a professional as well as a business attitude towards the progress of education. A professionally-minded publisher takes satisfaction in being of definite service to the teaching craft and realizes, besides, that specialized books which, by their very nature, are doomed to be slow sellers, sometimes strengthen his list of more marketable publications. Such books will help to set standards, and in time may create the need for educa­ tional texts that will be highly remunerative and may in turn open the way to the issuance of additional scholarly books. But, a preeminent elementary textbook in any science appears but once in a generation, and the publishers’ reserve fund is bound to become depleted beyond the point of safety, unless the academic world, which actually stands in need of specialized tools of instruction, adopts ways and means of earnest cooperation with the publishers. What are some of these means of cooperation? Walter Scott once said that publishers are the only trades­ men in the world who professedly, and by choice, deal with a pig in a poke. What was true in Scott’s day is true in a wider sense to-day when with the enormous increase in the cost of book production, the publisher can secure his margin of profit only in quantity production and large sales,—two considerations that cannot be predicated of the scholarly book. The element of uncertainty might be considerably minimized if expert judgment in regard to the desirability, if not actual need, of certain scholarly publications could be freely collected and crystallized; for, without some buying capacity to rely upon, no publisher in the world, even the most professionally minded, can really be expected to under­ take the publication of a book. Dean Woodbridge’s statement that professors find it diffi­ cult to secure the publication of important books without providing a large part of the expenses involved, is in all likelihood founded in experience and may hold true of the majority of publishers. It is open to doubt, however, whether this practice would be quite so general in its application if scholars brought with them the guarantee of the cost, not in actual currency but in a careful and unbiassed canvas of the field of demand that would encourage the publisher to believe that, from the standpoint of circulation, a given book would not be as dead as a doornail on the very day of its birth. The leaders of the Modern Language Association must have had some such idea in mind when they wisely provided a Committee of Award to select the most deserving manuscripts for the Monograph Series. When all is said, let us candidly face the fact that very few if any American publishers can compare in point of resources with the two famous English Presses which enjoy the monopoly of printing PROCEEDINGS FOR 1922 xci the revised version of the Bible and the Church of England Prayer Book, and thus can generously publish works of most minute scholarship almost regardless of financial loss. Even our highly endowed University Presses, aside from their inevitable harvests of doctoral monographs, are exercising their prerogative of selection and trying to outlive the uni­ versal jibe that their function is to publish works which no one is expected to read. Another matter of importance is the distribution of the books once they are published. Effective distribution is the preeminent problem of book-publishing. Unless the pub­ lisher’s business is adapted to the selling of scholarly works, unless a given book is, as it were, “geared” to his selling organization, no amount of goodwill will suffice to bring the book before the man in a thousand who really wants it. But, let us assume that conditions are ideal: the right manu­ script makes its appearance; the publisher accepts it; his organization is capable of distributing the output; teachers are interested in the book. At the very outset of his cam­ paign the publisher meets with an embarrassing obstacle. This obstacle consists in the fact that American College and University professors expect all educational publishing houses to send them free copies of every book they bring out. A moment’s reflection is sufficient to convince one that, on the one hand, a publishing house that handles primarily textbooks cannot afford to offend the teachers who are, after all, their only patrons; and, on the other hand, the bottom is knocked out from under a book, as a marketable proposi­ tion, if free copies are supplied to the teachers who are the only possible clients. When a publisher has prepared a series of scholarly books, like the well-known Belles-Lettres Series in English literature, at a cost of no less than $60,000, he really must be pardoned for desiring to see his labors, at least in some measure, rewarded. One is reminded at this point of the fact that half a century ago the highest type of College graduate often chose an academic career at the expense of severe sacrifices, whereas the best men to-day are reluctant to turn toward a scholarly career. There is need evidently of raising the relatively low standing of scholarship in the eyes of the undergraduates. There is also need, perhaps on the part of all of us, of con­ tinuous self-improvement if we are to escape intellectual atrophy and are to inspire a love of learning and scholarship for its own sake. But, if the teacher is to rise above the crude notion that the teaching of his subject begins and ends with the Elementary French, Spanish or German grammar and a repeated reading of the same ten or twelve literary texts, he needs to create an atmosphere that is favorable to intellectual expansion. He needs to encourage acquain­ tance with books, he needs to encourage the purchase of books by his advanced students and the library of the insti­ tution with which he is connected. He should encourage the purchase of books as a professional obligation to himself and his craft in the same way that progressive men of other professions instinctively surround themselves with the best and latest publications in their respective fields. Unless the practice of complimentary copies in the case of books of scholarly character is restricted and publishers are not left to feel that, in issuing such books, they are merely benefiting the printer, binder, and the paper manufacturer, little hope can be seen for the betterment of the present situation. Scholars will be obliged to continue awaiting the convenience of University Presses and of privately endowed societies, which lack effective means to distribute their works, whereas under favorable circumstances educational publishers would not be reluctant to publish from time to time a reasonable number of scholarly books. In England, we are told, four times the number of scholarly books are sold in proportion to the population as in the United States. In Continental Europe the ordinary publisher does not hesi­ tate to bring out, usually in unbound form, a book of pure scholarship, if it is worth bringing out, because he never gives away copies and expects, from a knowledge of his available market, to be able to sell enough copies to meet the expenses. But in the United States, under conditions prevailing to-day, one finds at most two or three educational publishers who bring out books of scholarly character, and of them it must be said that they show a high degree of courage and a sincere desire to be of service to scholars. The situation then, in this country, with respect to the scholarly book is far from being satisfactory. It falls below the degree of progress made in England and in Continental Europe. It robs serious investigation of one of its greatest incentives, namely publication. It is a credit neither to scholars nor to publishers. Yet it is not without its possi­ bilities of relief. The Modern Language Association has established its Monograph Series; other agencies, such as University Presses, contribute their quota of assistance. As regards publishing houses, most of which have thus far been more commercial than professional, an approach, at least, to the remedy might be made if scholars offered them manuscripts born of careful judgment and wise selection, and if the present attitude toward the purchase of scholarly works underwent a thorough-going change. Perhaps the Modern Language Association could go on record as favor­ ing the publication of scholarly books, and officially recom­ mend that all the teachers who are interested in such books should offer to pay for their purchase. It would help still more effectively if the Association could, in instances that are particularly worthy of such action, raise a subscription fund to defray a part of the manufacturing cost of such publications. This entire problem is one that can, evidently, be solved only by schoolmen and bookmen acting in conjunction with each other toward a common goal. If, in the course of the present discussion, from the standpoint of a bookman whose sympathies lie unreservedly on the side of research, the tendency has been to place a greater responsibility on the academic world than is usually the case, let me be permitted to hark back to the wisdom of Francis Bacon:—“I hold every man a debtor to his profession, from the which, as men of course do seek to receive countenance and profit, so ought they of duty to endeavor themselves, by way of amends, to be a help and ornament thereunto.” Alexander Green AUTHOR vs. PUBLISHER* [After reviewing briefly the greatly changed conditions in the publication of college text-books which have been brought about in the last forty years the speaker proceeded:] The point of these observations bearing on this subject is that conditions between authors or editors and publishers of literary texts have changed materially since the days when but a few pages of notes made up, together with the original text, or a portion of it, a textbook for school and college use. Yet, as regards the remuneration of the author or editor, despite these changed conditions, the conventional ten per cent royalty contract has remained in statu quo. In the way of progressive development of these modern language text books, after the notes, came vocabularies. Since the advent of this auxiliary in language training, like every other pedagogical device, it has been highly special­ ized, modernized and improved. Each book firm it may be said, has its own ideas in regard to what should be included in a vocabulary, how it should be included, and its typograph­ ical make-up. An editor, for reasons good and sufficient to the publisher, must needs conform, in good measure, to this standard. In as much as notes and vocabulary supplement each other, there is a code to be observed by the editor in furnishing notes just as in supplying a vocabulary. In either case, the task often necessitates considerable practice before eliminating many erasures. Next come introductions to the texts. In many cases these introductions are exceedingly valuable and cost their writers untold research and labor. Many of these contributions may be compared to the best we find in the most recent encyclopedias on the author or the subject of the text. Yet there are, not wanting those, particularly native teachers, who wish them all where Cle- •An abridgment of a paper read at the Philadelphia meeting of the Modem Language Association of America, December 28,1922: see Proceed­ ings, p. xxi. menceau, upon his arrival here, wished the newspaper reporters. But, as with every other commodity, these auxiliaries have their reason for existence. When that reason ceases to exists, they will disappear. At present, however, a text with notes is more in demand by the school public than the same without notes; a text with a vocabulary is a favorite compared with one without a vocabulary. Taking up on the personnel of the publishers who have more or less to do with the constituents of texts just de­ scribed, it would appear that the improvement made in the personnel of the publishers has kept pace with that of the authors or editors. Authors or editors are generally well acquainted with the personnel of the firm publishing their texts, partly because of the annual visits of the latter to the colleges, and because of mutual interests in various ways. In many instances, the publishers and their representatives belong, by their education and training, in the same class with the authors and editors. Indeed, many of them have had the advantage of service as teachers in our best institu­ tions of learning. The day of the expert drummer and canvasser equally good at selling a text-book or an incubator has gone by the board. In his place, often times, is a man who has had a college education, whose practical experience in teaching makes him thoroly familiar with the field that he is in charge of. It is a pleasure to take such a man out to lunch, for his knowledge of men and conditions in his special field often amounts to that found in “Who’s Who in Modern Languages.” As regards the text-book output of any one firm, the connoisseur at once recognizes its producer not only by the external appearance, but by the material which it contains. The hand of the book firm, or publisher, is usually quite apparent, since the style and get-up of material, as put forth by one publishing house, varies sufficiently to differentiate it from that of any other. Quite a few publishing firms on both sides of the water publish manuals entitled: “Notes for the Guidance of Authors in the Submission of Manuscript to the Publishers.” In general, these guides are intended to be helpful to authors, and to a certain extent, they facilitate the work of both author and publisher. Practically, then, an author or editor has simply to follow out the directions. Undoubtedly, there are good reasons on the part of the publishers for offering such guides to authors, inasmuch as each publisher desires a consistent uniformity in the style of the publications issued by his house. There seems to be no valid objection here from the authors, as the question of authorship is so little concerned. Where this matter may occasion friction is in the prefatory material, or introductions, to literary works. The publisher may find the introduction too long. Certain passages have to be cut out, or the entire article must be made over. Naturally an author or editor who feels that he has made a scholarly contribution objects. The publisher regards the matter from a business stand­ point. Practically, then, there is nothing to do—-each being right from his particular standpoint—but conform to the situation which the publisher controls, in order that the text may appear in due time. In connection with the subject of cooperation between scholars and publishers, it should be made clear what we understand by the term “scholar.” To those of us of the old school who received some years of education in Europe, the word “scholar” evokes such types as Tobler in Germany, Darmesteter in France, Rajna in Italy, Menendez y Pelayo in Spain. These are specialists who have consecrated their lives solely to scholarship. The members of our Association are primarily teachers, whose duty it is to combine with that of teaching the function of the administrator, and of scholarly or literary contributor. It must be at once apparent that, given our conditions, we have in mind in connection with this subject not such output as that of European scholars, but simply works that are of a scholarly character. Indeed, were it otherwise, it is questionable whether this subject could be brought up at all, for the more scholarly a work, the more difficult it is to find a publisher willing to handle it. Some of the most scholarly contributions have, there, appeared else­ where than from the well-known firms we here have in mind. In a series of text-books started by a publishing firm a dozen or more years ago, the general title of the Series read: The So-and-So Series by American Scholars.” Of late, the part of the title “by American Scholars” has been stricken out. Surely none of the authors or editors of the series would care to arrogate to themselves a title that might be mis­ leading. Using then, the word “scholar” in the American sense, it may be said that their literary, pedagogical or scholarly contributions have not been undertaken primarily for pecun­ iary reasons. Ordinarily, the American scholar does such a piece of work for any one of three reasons (1) Because he himself wants to do that kind of a piece of work. (2) Be­ cause a publishing firm asks him to do a piece of work— without which request he might never have done it. (3) Because the editor of a Series asks him to contribute to the Series, the destinies of which the editor controls. The pub­ lisher who will venture the publication of a work like the “Divine Comedy,” a German, Spanish, or French epic poem, while taking pride in the character of his venture, knows well that it is but an accessory, helpful possibly indirectly, but not financially. He naturally, therefore, takes due precautionary measures to insure himself against pecuniary loss. A contract for such a work is apt to contain a clause which reads: “After a sufficient number of copies shall have been sold to cover the outlay, ‘the publisher,’ his successors, assigns, will pay the said author or editors 10% of the gross receipts.” This is likely to mean that before any material returns are realized by the author several years must elapse; his satisfaction must be of a moral and intellectual character. As regards the text itself, the book firms prefer to copy­ right in their own names an author’s work. For instance, when submitting the manuscript of a text, an author may precede it on the reverse of the title page with “Copyright 1916, by “So-and-So” (name of the author). The book is then printed- before the copyright formalities can be com­ plied with. Then comes a letter from a publisher of which the following is a copy: Dear Sir: The contract executed between you and us on “such-and-such” a date contains the provision that the author is to deliver to the publisher such licenses, assignments and other documents as may be necessary or conven­ ient to assure them, their representatives, successors or assigns, the exclu­ sive right to print, publish, and sell said works and any revision of the same during the continuance of any such copyright or renewals. In accordance with this clause, we are now enclosing an assignment of copyright, which we ask you to be good enough to execute and return to us at your convenience. This assignment of copyright could not be executed, of course, until after the book had been published and the copyright duly secured. Very truly yours, (Signature) Enclosure X Sign here...................................................... To this the author replied, that, in his opinion, the assign­ ment of the copyright was neither “necessary” nor “conven­ ient” and, therefore, he chose to retain it. To this the publisher replied: “If we did not consider the assignment of copyright necessary and convenient, we should certainly not go to all the trouble of securing it. As a matter of fact, the publishing contract between you and us establishes your rights fully. We cannot see where there is the slightest advantage to you in retaining the copyright, or the slightest disadvantage to you in assigning it. I have every wish to avoid saying anything that may seem in the slightest degree unpleasant, but I am obliged to say that we have called upon you for a document which we have a right to ask for and which you are under obligation to give us.” It was made clear to the publisher, in answer to this communica­ tion, that the advantage of owning a copyright is like that of owning any other piece of property, a source of pride and satisfaction, which also has a material value in that it may be willed to one’s descendants, heirs or assignees. To which the publisher replied in a long communication that it is a matter of no importance to you or to us who actually owns the copyright. To this statement, the reply was made: “Then let the author own it.” It seems that two other authors raised the same point shortly after and, conse­ quently, the publisher withdrew his claim with an apology. If you wish to be the owner of the copyright of your own work, so specify in the contract. The example cited is simply one of scores of cases that may arise, and contracts abound with fine points not at once apparent upon signing them. The publishing firms have the best legal talent procurable in drawing up the contracts as well as in construing them. It is all very well to say to an author: “Read your contract carefully before signing it,—above all do not sign an agree­ ment without the advice of persons who are skilled.” The material side is constantly changing so that the ordinary constituents: (1) Cost of production, (2) Composition, (3) Stereotyping, (4) Paper, (5) Binding (6) Corrections, (7) Advertising, (8) Illustrations, (9) Extras, (10) Trade price, etc. may not easily be controlled by either publisher or author. If it be possible, an agreement between an author and publisher should be short and so simple that it cannot be misunderstood. One of the most fertile sources of trouble all along the line is “corrections.” This source of dissatisfaction has increased enormously since the war period, owing to the seemingly exaggerated cost. As with a contract, while theoretically an author should be in a position to control it, practically he rarely is. Corrections may comprise those of the author, those of the editor of the series, those of the printer, of various proof readers; they become most complicated. Practically the author has to pay from his pocketbook or from his royalty account the major part of these corrections. In revising recently an edition of a text-book, a bill was presented to the author in which for two plate corrections of as slight a nature as possible a charge of a dollar apiece was rendered. One of these corrections consisted in putting in a full stop; the other in changing the interjection “Ah” to “Ha.” The author who received the bill from a former student in charge of the accounts of the firm, seized the opportunity to remonstrate. The reply is characteristic of explanatory epistles of publishers. “Thank you for your cheque in payment of the bill for printer’s alterations in the “So-and-So” text. The charge does seem exorbitant for such trifling corrections; but, you see, we have to pay for the compositor’s time in getting out the plates from the vaults, as well as for the actual work he does. It probably took him about fifteen minutes to get the plate for page 105, and shave out the comma. At the same time, presumably, he took a chew of tobacco, and it may have taken a few minutes to get it well lubricated. Then he had to get his stick, go to the type box, select the letters and lock them up for casting. We always allow half an hour for casting. It is fussy work and cannot be hurried.” This letter from a former student seemed unsympathetic and, as such, was brought to the attention of the manager. He replied: “Thank you for allowing me to see my colleague’s letter. Against the professional host I stand foursquare between him for there may come a crucial time when we may have to publish an Apologia pro vita nostra.” To the author it seems as though this time had come. In this discussion “scholarly text-books” do not mean critical editions of works such as are brought out frequently by European scholars and occasionally by American schol­ ars. Selections from the works of Chaucer, Rabelais, Dante and Cervantes may well be scholarly text-books, and just what our students who are well out of the leading strings of the Direct Method ought to have. The time, labor, and cost to both author and publisher of producing these schol­ arly texts is usually so considerable as to reduce the material profits to a minimum, when an actual deficit by both is not incurred. Their every effort on the part of both author and publisher is needed to bring about its success. Un­ doubtedly both author and publisher are up against a hard proposition. Some years ago a book firm started in pub­ lishing some of these works of a scholarly character. It engaged an editor of the series to pass on the work of the editors of the respective texts. But as time went on the enthusiasm of the firm apparently cooled. The text-books were little advertised and the venture was unprofitable. The author of one of these texts, a rather elaborate work of over 500 pages, believing that it was quite possible for the book to make its way, brought the matter pointedly to the attention of the firm. One of the members replied that the book would never pay for itself. In fact, the interest or lack of it on the part of the financial administration in this particular case is revealed in a striking manner, by the fact that during fourteen years, but four yearly statements were rendered. Regardless of whether copies were sold or not, due accounting is recognized as a business formality between two parties to a contract. It had happened that the author himself, as well as other teachers, had been unable to secure copies of the text for class use when wanted. The reply was: “Stock low,” “Out of print.” This, of course, presupposes the sale of what has been on hand. Finally the head of the firm acknowledged that owing to the immense business in English books, the foreign field had been unduly neglected. This acknowledgment came late. The book was only saved by the author’s persistent effort from going into the discard as did unfortunately one of the series, a useful scholarly text. Finally the price of the book was raised two-thirds more than the original price which had been much too low, and it began to be advertised. Had the book been with any one of a half dozen firms with which the author had relations, and had it been accorded the same treatment as the other books, it would have long ago made its way into the colleges and have paid both publisher and author materially and pedagogically. An attempt to find out how well satisfied with his pub­ lisher was a friend and distinguished colleague in the English Department of one of our colleges, a man whose works are widely used throughout the United States, brought forth the following reply: “As an author I am not very happy in my relationship with the publishers. The contracts are all written in their favor. I chance to know (by reason of a book I took over from my first publishers) that there is no comparison between the return to the writer and that to the house on a ten per cent royalty plan. My own books, now numbering fourteen, with the ‘Such and Such a city’ pub­ lishers, are not advertised, only mentioned in lists, and for the first three weeks of their lives in the fullest of the an­ nouncements. Besides, you can’t buy one of my books in the city where they are published except at ‘So-and-So’ bookstore, and not there very often, so near the edge of nothing do they keep the stock on hand. Recently a college in the West wrote for seventeen copies of my ‘Such-and- Such-a-title-book.’ The firm wrote back: ‘We haven’t those in stock. We will make them up and ship from the bindery. But are you sure you want seventeen copies of this book?’ What do you think of that for business? They know my books will sell more than enough to pay costs without advertising, and so, waiting for the future, or until I do something to startle the world, they take the volumes as they come along and chuck them into the cold world saying: ‘Survive if you can; if you can’t, well, we didn’t put much into you anyway.’ That exactly describes the attitude of my publishers and it is far from joyful or inspiring.” An attempt to render an impartial decision results as follows. (1) It seems to us teachers, authors, or editors, that we have a right to expect the prompt publication of our works in the most suitable form. “Prompt may mean in these days a good deal of delay. It may be physically impossible for a publisher to bring a book out shortly after the accept­ ance of the manuscript. The press of business may be such that it will be delayed for months. It should be said in behalf of the publisher that he does not delay a book because he wants to, but because he cannot avoid it. If possible, the publisher is even more anxious to sell the book than the author is, for the former’s money is locked up in it. By “suitable form” is meant whatever form will sell best, with due regard to the taste of the author. For instance, it not infrequently happens that popular texts, after some years of service, need a thorough revision to meet modern aims. An Introduction, written originally for colleges, may be ill adapted to the high school needs, yet the text be equally popular in school and college. It becomes a question of compromising on the quality and quantity of the original contribution. Some editors in this respect are uncom­ promising, and consider—to use a publisher’s own words that their original contribution “is final and definitive and on a par with the gospels with respect to sacrosanctitude. It must be apparent that such an attitude is impractical. (2) The author has a right to expect his wishes in general to prevail with due regard to cost and selling qualities. These constituents the publishers may know much more about them than the author, because of the business experi­ ence of the former. The books he publishes must be the kind that will appeal to the maximum of teachers. (3) He has a right to expect a fair percentage of the cost to cover author’s charges. This is a modified assertion of the statement that he has a right to expect a fair deal in author’s corrections. (4) He has a right to expect such an amount of advertising as his book calls for in order to reach the largest body of prospective buyers. (5) He has a right to expect that his book will not be shelved in favor of a rival. The publisher is sometimes charged, it may be unfairly, with accepting a manuscript not with the idea of selling it, but to remove it as a com­ petitor of some other book already published by that house, or about to be published by them. (6) As regards the publication of a scholarly work, it may be pertinent to suggest that before the making of the con­ tract, the author find out from the educational publisher the attitude of the latter regarding scholarly works which might not seem to assure speedy returns in large sales. Is not the the author justified in asking the publisher to assume some part of the risk in putting out such works? How far can a publisher be asked to consider something besides commercial returns?—This, in view of the fact that we hear that Amer­ ican publishers are generally unwilling to undertake the publication of any book which does not promise prompt return of double the money invested or with a full guarantee of the costs from the author. It is obvious that the publisher is engaged in a business in which he invests his capital and takes all the risks. He cannot continue his business unless he receives a proper return from the investment. We cannot really find much fault with the view expressed by one of the publishers whom an author was urging “to get after” a certain territory in behalf of his grammar. The publisher replied: “Of course, our business is the selling of books. However we do not care which of our books we sell.” Although the author would like to have the publisher concentrate on his book, we cannot fairly object if another book of the house sells more readily. An agent would be more or less than human if he made a losing fight for a book destined to fail when his house had another book that the client of the moment might very likely accept. It is a common saying that it takes one good book—in the sense of a wide seller—to pay for ten indifferent sellers. Many books are never reprinted and the authors not infre­ quently blame the publishers. On the other hand, the pub­ lisher may have done everything possible to sell all his books and still remain out of pocket for a large part of the cost of manufacturing the books, printing them and trying to sell them. A book that sells only fairly well may be impossible because of a sudden rise in the price of paper, labor and so on. Moreover, changed conditions may effect materially the sale of a text-book. Recently when giving to one of the book firms an order for some thirty odd copies of a most admirable book on the Great War (a text-book of some 250 pages, con­ taining prefatory matter, more than thirty very fine engrav­ ings, notes and vocabulary, published in 1920), the reply from the publisher came back as follows: “Thank you for your letter and friendly comment on ‘So-and-So’ book on the War. I regret that what you say partakes of the nature of a postmortem eulogy; but the present conditions have made it necessary that we should trim our list of all books which were not meeting with a certain minimum sale. This book comes in that class, due largely to the fact, I imagine, that teachers seem to be inclined to forget the War and all connected with it, and books of stories about the War are not generally acceptable.” The loss in this concrete case must have been very considerable to both publisher and author. On the other hand, a publisher often carries books, not because they sell widely, but because they complete a certain list required or otherwise deemed desirable. For instance, every self-respecting text-firm must carry the “Vicar of Wakefield,” “l’Abbe Constantin,” Hoher als die Kirche, “Marianela,” largely mere repetition, but representing an immense amount of labor on the part of authors and of expense on the part of the publishers, that might be expended in a manner more worth while. The procedure in its way is analogous to that to which this Association has given some attention, the duplication of theses for the doctorate. As a rule the publisher claims to pay the author a fair sum for his work. Be that work what it may, the ten per cent royalty has become stereotyped. Sometimes a pub­ lisher adds an extra amount when a book does exceedingly well, as John Murray did when Irving’s “Sketch Book” met with so favorable a reception from the public. Nowa­ days, this is not frequent and usually, the publishers claim, impossible. Like the laws of the Medes and the Persians, whether men may come or men may go, the ten per cent royalty goes on forever. James Geddes, Jr. INCLUDING MEMBERS OF THE CENTRAL DIVISION OF THE Association Names of Life Members are printed in small capitals. Abbey, Kathryn Trimmer, Acting Head of the Department of History, Hood College, Frederick, Md. Adams, Arthur, Professor of English and Librarian, Trinity College, Hart­ ford, Conn. Adams, Edward Larrabee, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1850 Washtenaw Ave.] Adams, Eleanor N., President and Professor of English, Oxford College for Women, Oxford, O. Adams, John Chester, Assistant Professor of English and Faculty Adviser in Undergraduate Literary Activities, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Adams, Joseph Quincy, Professor of English, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [167 Goldwin Smith Hall] Adams, Raymond William, Instructor in English, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. [Box 762] Adams, Warren Austin, Professor of German, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Adler, Frederick Henry Herbert, Professor of English, Adelbert College, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, Ohio. [1403 E. 105th St.] Agar, Herbert Sebastian, Fellow in English, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [114 Broadmead] Aiken, Wellington E., Associate Professor of English, University of Ver­ mont, Burlington, Vt. [52 N. Prospect St.] Ainsworth, Oliver Morley, Assistant Professor of English, Beloit College, Beloit, Wis. Albaladejo y Martinez, Jos6 M., Assistant Professor of Spanish, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [University Club Memorial B’ld’g.] Albert, Harry, Principal, Walpole High School, Walpole, N. H. Albright, Elnora Evelyn Kelly (Mrs. F. S. Albright), Instructor in English, University of Western Ontario, London, Ont. Albright, Evelyn May, Instructor in English, University of Chicago, Chi­ cago, Hl. [1227 E. 57th St.] Alden, Earle Stanley, Associate Professor of English, Smith College, North­ ampton, Mass. Alden, Raymond Macdonald, Professor of English, Leland Stanford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal. Alderman, William E., Professor of English Literature, Beloit College, Beloit, Wis. [718 Church St.] Aldrich, Earl A., Instructor in English, U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. [69 Shipwright St.] Alexander, John, Assistant in Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [704 W. Illinois St.] Alexis, Joseph E. A., Associate Professor of Modem Languages, University of Nebraska, Lincoln Neb. [1420 Garfield St.] Alford, Anne Nash, Head of Department of English, Sullins College, Bristol, Va. Allard, Louis, Professor of French, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [1130 Mass. Ave.] Allen, Beverley Sprague, Associate Professor of English, New York Uni­ versity, New York, N. Y. [University Heights] Allen, Clifford Gilmore, Professor of Romanic Languages, Leland Stanford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal. Allen, Edward Archibald, Professor Emeritus of the English Language and Literature, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. Allen, Hamilton Ford, Professor and Head of Department of Modem Lan­ guages, New Hampshire State College, Durham, N. H. Allen, Herbert F., Assistant Professor of English, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Cal. [510 N. Virgil Ave.] Allen, Hope Emily, 116 Cheyne Walk, London S. W. 10, England. Allen, Louis, Assistant Professor of French, University of Toronto, Toronto Canada [325 Huron St.] Allen, Philip Schuyler, Professor of German Literature, The University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [Faculty Exchange] Allen, Samuel E., Assistant Professor of Rhetoric, Williams College, Wil­ liamstown, Mass. [26 Southworth St.] Allen, William H., Bookseller, 3413 Walnut St., Philadelphia, Pa. Allison, Tempe Elizabeth, Instructor in English, San Mateo Junior College, San Mateo, Cal. Almstedt, Hermann, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Mis­ souri, Columbia, Mo. Alonso, Antonio, Instructor in Spanish, Purdue University, West Lafayette, Ind. [145 Andrew Place] Altrocchi, Rudolph, Associate Professor of Italian, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Amy, Ernest F., Professor of English, Ohio Wesleyan University, Delaware, O. [35 N. Washington St.] Anderson, Mary J., Teacher of English, West Philadelphia Girls’ High School, Philadelphia, Pa. [47th and Walnut St.] Anderson, William B., Instructor in Modem Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1303 Geddes Ave.] Andrews, Albert LeRoy, Instructor in German and Scandinavian, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. Andrews, Clarence Edward, Assistant Professor of English, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. Anibal, Claude E., Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [510 S. Sluss Ave.] Arbib-Costa, Alfonso, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. [500 W. 144th St.] Ariail, J. M., Professor of English, Columbia College, Columbia, S. C. Armstrong, A. Joseph, Professor and Head of the Department of English, Baylor University, Waco, Tex. [625 Dutton St.] Armstrong, Amy, Instructor in English, University of Minnesota, Minne­ apolis, Minn. [312 Folwell Hall.] Armstrong, Edward C., Professor of the French Language, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [26 Edgehill St.] Arnold, Frank Russell, Professor of Modem Languages, State Agricultural College, Logan, Utah. Arnold, Morris LeRoy, Professor of English Literature, Hamline University, St. Paul, Minn. [2628 Park Ave., Minneapolis, Minn.] Aron, Albert W.; Assistant Professor of German, Oberlin College, Oberlin, O. [148 S. Professor St.] Arvin, Neil Cole, Assistant Professor of French, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. Ashby, Stanley Royal, Assistant in English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [1200 Massachusetts Ave.] Ashley, Edgar Louis, Professor of German, Massachusetts Agricultural Col­ lege, Amherst, Mass. [Amherst House.] Ashton, Adeline, Hiram College, Hiram, O.' Ashton, Harry, Professor of French Language and Literature, and Head of the Modem Language Department, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, B. C. Atkin, Ernest G., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Atkins, Elizabeth, Instructor in English, University of Minnesota, Minne­ apolis, Minn. [721 12th St. S. E.] Atkinson, Geoffroy, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Am­ herst College, Amherst, Mass. Atkinson, Thomas Prater, Head of the Dept. of Foreign Languages, Alabama Polytechnic Institute, Auburn, Ala. Atkinson, William Rudolph, Assistant Professor of Modern Languages, Southwestern Presbyterian University, Clarksville, Tenn. Atwood, Leland Leavitt, Instructor in Romance Languages, Cornell Uni­ versity, Ithaca, N. Y. [University Club, 3 Central Ave.] Aubin, Robert Arnold, Graduate Student in Philology, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [17 Copley St., Newton, Mass.] Aumer, Mrs. Nellie Slayton, Assistant Professor of English, State Univer­ sity of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [Manville Heights] Aumer, Robert R., Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [1920 Arlington Place.] Austin, Herbert Douglas, Professor of Italian and French, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, Cal. Aydelotte, Frank, President of Swarthmore College, Swarthmore, Pa. Ayer, Charles Carlton, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Colorado, Boulder, Col. Ayres, Harry Morgan, Associate Professor of English, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Babbitt, Irving, Professor of French Literature, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [6 Kirkland Road] Babcock, Charlotte Farrington, Assistant Professor of English, Simmons College, Boston, Mass. [Massachusetts Chambers, 146 Massachusetts Ave.] Babcock, Cortlandt, Jr., Instructor in French, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Babcock, Earle Brownell, Dean of the Graduate School, Professor and Head of Department of Romance Languages and Literatures, New York University, New York, N. Y. [University Heights] Babcock, Robert W., Instructor in English, University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [122 N. Capitol St.] Bach, Matthew G., Instructor in German, Teachers’ College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [Livingston Hall] Bachman, Frederick William, Department of Modem Languages, University of Wyoming, Laramie, Wyo. Bacon, George William, Professor of Modem Languages, Germantown High School, Philadelphia Pa. [Box 7, Wyncote, Pa.] Bacon, Leonard, Assistant Professor of English, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. Bacon, Robert E., Assistant Dean of Harvard College and Assistant in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [7 Warren House] Bacon, Susan Almira, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Reed College, Portland, Ore. (on leave) [305 Winona Ave., Northfield, Minn.] de Bacourt, Pierre, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages and Litera­ tures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Bagster-Collins, Elijah William, Associate Professor of German, Teachers’ College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Bailey, Margery, Instructor in English, Stanford University, Cal. [Box 934] Bailiff, Laurence Deane, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Uni versity of Wyoming, Laramie, Wyo. [Science Hall] Baillot, Edouard Paul Professor of Romance Languages, Northwestern University, Evanston Hl. [724 Simpson St.]. Baker, Asa George, In Charge of Editorial Work G. & C. Merriam Co., Publishers of Webster’s Dictionaries, Springfield, Mass. Baker, Fannie Anna, Head of the Department of Foreign Languages, Northeastern State Teachers’ College, Talequah, Okla. [Box 27] Baker, Franklin Thomas, Professor of English, Teachers’ College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [525 W. 120th St.] Baker, George Pierce, Professor of Dramatic Literature, Department of English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [195 Brattle St.] Baker, Harry Torsey, Associate Professor of English, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. [Box 231] Baker, Ray Palmer, Professor of English, Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, N. Y. [303 Spring Ave.] Baker, Thomas Stockham, President, Carnegie Institute of Technology, Pittsburgh, Pa. [Schenley Park] Baldensperger, Fernand, Professeur a l’Universitd de Strasbourg, France. [34 Allfie de la Robertsau, Strasbourg] Balderston, Katharine Canby, Graduate Student in English, Yale Uni­ versity, New Haven, Conn. [32 Lake Place] Baldwin, Charles Sears, Professor of Rhetoric, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Baldwin, Edward Chauncey, Associate Professor of English Literature, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [802 S. Lincoln Ave.] Baldwin, Thomas Whitfield, Assistant Professor of English, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. [219 E. Lafayette St.] Ball, Margaret, Professor of English, Mount Holyoke College, So. Hadley, Mass. Ballard. Anna Woods, Assistant Professor of French, Teachers’ College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [120 W. 103d St.] Bancroft, William Wallace, Graduate Student in English University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [3653 N. 15th St.] Banks, Theodore Howard, Jr., Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1472 Yale Station] Barba, Preston Albert, Professor of German, Muhlenberg College, Allen­ town, Pa. Barbe, Waitman, Professor of English, West Virginia University, Morgan­ town, W. Va. Bargy, Henry, Professor of French, Hunter College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Barker, James L., Professor of French and Phonetics, University of Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah. Barlow, Joseph W., Assistant Professor of Spanish, New York University, New York, N. Y. [213 Park Place, Orange, N. J.] Barlow, William M., Head of the Dept. of Modem Languages, Curtis High School, New Brighton, Staten Island, N. Y. Barney, Winfield Supply, Professor and Head of the Department of Romance Languages, North Carolina College for Women, Greensboro, N. C. [310 Forest Ave.] Bamicle, Mary Elizabeth, Knole Hall, Knyveton Road, Bournemouth, Hants., England. Bamouw, Adriaan Jacob, Queen Wilhelmina Professor, Department of Germanic Languages, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [39 Claremont Ave.] Barrow, Sarah Field, Assistant Professor of English, College for Women, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. Barrows, Sarah T., Assistant Professor of Phonetics, Dept. of Speech, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa. Bartlett, Mrs. David Lewis, Baltimore, Md. [16 W. Monument St.] Barto, Philip Stephan, Associate Professor of German, Carnegie Institute of Technology, Pittsburgh, Pa. [5539 Beeler St.] Barton, Francis Brown, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Uni­ versity of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Bascom, Lelia, Assistant Professor of English, Extension Division, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [419 Sterling Place] Baskervill, Charles Read, Professor of English, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. (on leave) Bashe, Edwin J., Instructor in English, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa. [422 Iowa Ave.] Bass, Clare Reynolds, Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures, Western College, Oxford, 0. Bassett, Lee Emerson, Professor of English, Stanford University, Cal. Batchelder, Josephine H., Associate Professor of English, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. [11 Leighton Rd.] Bates, Madison Clair, Principal, Burr and Burton Seminary, Manches­ ter, Vt. Batt, Max, Professor of Modem Languages, John Marshall High School, Chicago, Ill. [3250 W. Adams St.] Battin, Benjamin F., Professor of German, Swarthmore College, Swarth­ more, Pa. Battista, Joseph Lloyd, Instructor in Spanish and Italian Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. Baudin, Maurice C., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Miami University, Oxford, O. Baugh, Albert Croll, Assistant Professor of English, University of Pennsyl­ vania, Philadelphia, Pa. [Box 1, College Hall] Baum, Pauli Franklin, Professor of English, Trinity College, Durham, N. C. [Franklin Court] Baumgartner, Milton D., Professor of Germanic Languages, Butler Col­ lege, Indianapolis, Ind. Baur, Grace van Sweringen, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Colorado, Boulder, Col. [1509 Cascade Ave.] Baur, William F., Assistant Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Colorado, Boulder, Col. [1509 Cascade Ave.] Baxter, Arthur H., Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Baym, Max, Assistant in English Literature, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [603 Fountain St.] Beach, Joseph Warren, Associate Professor of English, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [1801 University Ave., S. EJ Beale, Robert Cecil, Professor of English, Southwestern Presbyterian Uni­ versity, Clarksville, Tenn. Beam, Elizabeth Beatrice, Instructor in Spanish, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [2103^ S. Dubuque St.] Beam, Jacob N., Princeton, N. J. Bean, Cecil C., Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [35 Langdon St.] Bean, Helen Alice, Teacher of English, South High School, Minneapolis, Minn. Beardsley, Wilfrid Attwood Professor and Chairman of the Dept. of Romance Languages, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. Beatty, Arthur, Assistant Professor of English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [1824 Vilas St.] Beatty, Joseph Moorhead, Jr., Assistant Professor of English, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. Beaty, John Owen, Professor of English, Southern Methodist University Dallas, Tex. de Beaumont, Victor, Associate Professor of the French Language and Literature, University of Toronto, Toronto, Canada. [73 Queen’s Park] Beck, Jean Baptiste, Professor of Romance Languages and Literature, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [125 Radnor St., Bryn Mawr, Pa.] Becker, Ernest Julius, Principal, Western High School, Baltimore, Md. Beckman, Frederick E., Associate in French and Spanish, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Cal. [562 N. Kenmore Ave ] Beckwith, Martha Warren, Research Professor on the Folk-lore Foundation, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Bedford, Frances Elizabeth, Professor of French and Spanish, Indiana State Normal School, Muncie, Ind. Beeson, Charles Henry, Professor of Latin, The University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [1009 East 60th St.] Bek, William Godfrey, Professor of German, University of North Dakota, Grand Forks, N. D. [Box 66, University Station] Belden, Henry Marvin, Professor of English, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. [811 Virginia Ave.] Belden, Mary Megie, Associate Professor of English Literature, Elmira Col­ lege, Elmira, N. Y. Belknap, Arthur Train, Dean and Professor of English, State Normal School, Mansfield Pa. Bell, Clair Hadyn, Instructor in German, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [1427 Bonita Ave.] Bell, William Gordon, Professor of Romance Languages, Occidental College, Los Angeles, Calif. Bender, Harold H., Professor of Indo-Germanic Philology, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. Benedict, George Wyllys, Associate Professor of English, Brown University, Providence, R. I. Benham, Allen Rogers, Professor of English, University of Washington, Seattle, Wash. [1204 E. 75th St.] Benson, Adolph Burnett, Assistant Professor of German and Scandinavian, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [548 Orange St.] Berdan, John Milton, Assistant Professor of English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1914 Yale Station] Bergeron, Maxime L., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, College of the City of New York. New York, N. Y. Berge-Soler, Edward, Head of the Department of Modern Languages, High School of Commerce, Boston, Mass. [20 Hillside Road, Newton High­ lands.] Berkowitz, Hyman Chonon, Instructor in Romance Languages and Litera­ ture, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [105 College Ave.] Bernbaum, Ernest, c/o Messrs. Baring Brothers & Co., 8, Bishopsgate, London, E. C., England. de B£thune, Baron Francois, Louvain, Belgium. [34 rue de Beroit] Betz, Gottlieb Augustus, Instructor in Germanic Languages and Literatures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Beziat, Andre, Professor of Spanish Literature and Chairman of Depart­ ment. of Romance Languages, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn. Bidal, H61ene, Assistant Professor of French, Carleton College, Northfield, Minn. Bigelow, Eleanor, Radcliffe College, Cambridge, Mass. [4 Park Ave.] Bila, Constantine (Rev.), Professor of Latin and French, University of Dubuque, Dubuque, Iowa. Billetdoux, Edmond Wood, Professor of the Spanish Language and Litera­ ture, Rutgers College and the State University of New Jersey, New Brunswick, N. J. [Rutgers Alumni House.] Bird, James P., Professor of Romance Languages, Carleton College, North- field, Minn. Bishop, David Horace, Professor of the English Language and Literature, University of Mississippi, Oxford, Miss. [University, Miss.] Bissell, Benjamin H., Instructor in English, Rice Institute, Houston, Tex. Bissell, Kenneth M., Professor of French, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, Cal. [7357 Franklin Ave.] Bisson, Laurence Adolphus, Lecturer in French, Trinity College, University of Toronto, Toronto, Canada. Black, Frank Gees, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [36 Gorham Street] Black, Matthew Wilson, Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] Blackwell, Robert Emory, President and Professor of English, Randolph- Macon College, Ashland, Va. Blake, George Horace, Instructor in Modern Languages, New Hampshire State College, Durham, N. H. Blake, Harriet Manning, Head of the Department of English, The Baldwin School, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Blanchard, Frederic Thomas, Associate Professor of English, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Cal. [1318 Maltman Ave.] Blanchard, Harold Hooper, Instructor in English, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [12 Princeton Ave.] Blankenagel, John Charles, Professor of German, Ohio Wesleyan Uni­ versity, Delaware, O. Blankner, Fredericka Verne, Graduate Student in Romance Languages and Literatures, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [6025 Kimbark Ave.] Blickensderfer, Joseph P., Instructor in English, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. Block, Marthe, Graduate Student in Romance Languages, University of Chicago, [5650 S. Park Ave.] Blondheim, David Simon, Associate Professor of French, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Bloomfield, Leonard, Professor of German and Linguistics, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. Blount, Alma, Associate Professor of English Michigan State Normal College, Ypsilanti, Mich. [16 N. Summit St.] de Boer, Josephine M., Graduate Student in Romance Languages, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Boesche, Albert Wilhelm, Professor of German, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. Boillot, Sister Mary Paschal, Dominican College, San Rafael, Calif. Bolles, Edwin Courtlandt, Instructor in English, University of Pennsyl­ vania, Philadelphia, Pa. [2210 Locust St.] Bolton, Joseph Sheldon Gerry, Assistant Professor of English, Syracuse University. [930 Lancaster Ave.] Bolwell, Robert W., Assistant Professor of English, George Washington Uni­ versity, Washington, D. C. Bond, Otto Ferdinand, Assistant Professor of French, Junior College, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Bond, Richmond Pugh, Instructor in English, Hollins College, Hollins, Va. Bonner, Arthur, Head of Department of English, College of the Pacific, San Jose, Cal. Bonner, Miriam Young, Instructor in English, North Carolina College for Women, Greensboro, N. C. Booker, John Manning. Professor of English, University of North Carolina, Chapel HUI, N. C. Boot, EsteUe May, Associate in English, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, Iowa. [Manville Heights] Borgerhoff, J. L., Professor of Romance Languages, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. [2071 East 83rd St.] Borgman, Albert Stephens, Assistant Professor of English, New York University, University Heights, New York, N. Y. Borthwick, Margaret G., Professor of the German Language and Literature, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, Cal. Bosano, Gabriella, Instructor in Italian, Vassar CoUege, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Bothne, Gisle C. J., Head Professor of Scandinavian Languages and Litera­ tures, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Bourdette, Jean-Eloy-Hubert, Professor of Romance Languages, Lake Erie CoUege, PainesvUle 0. [175 Nebraska St.] Bourdin, Henri L., Assistant Professor of French, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [514 E. Fourth St.] Bourgoin, Louise, Instructor in French, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [54 West St.] Bourland, Benjamin Parsons, Professor of Romance Languages, Adelbert College of Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. [11500 Euclid Ave.] Bouton, Archibald Lewis, Professor of English, Dean of the College of Arts and Pure Science, New York University, University Heights, New York, N. Y. Bov6e, Arthur Gibbon, Head of Romance Dept., Laboratory Schools, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [Faculty Exchange] Bowen, Abba Willard, Assistant Professor of French, Smith College, North­ ampton, Mass. [S3 Crescent St.] Bowen, Edwin Winfield, Professor of Latin, Randolph-Macon College, Ashland, Va. Bowen, Ray Preston, Professor of Romanic Languages, Syracuse University, Syracuse, N. Y. [210 Walnut Place.] Bowman, James Cloyd, Professor and Head of Dept. of English, Northern State Normal, Marquette, Mich. Boyer, Clarence Valentine, Instructor in English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [705 W. Green St.] Boynton, Percy Holmes, Professor of English, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Boysen, Johannes Lassen, Adjunct Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [710 W. 35th St.] Bradford, Eugene Francis, Associate Professor of English, Syracuse Univer­ sity, Syracuse, N. Y. Bradley, Edward Sculley, Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Bradley, Jesse Franklin, Assistant Professor of English, University of Louisville, Louisville, Ky. [119 W. Broadway] Bradner, Leicester, Graduate Student in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1425 Yale Station] Bradshaw S. Ernest, Professor of Modem Languages, Furman University, Greenville, S. C. Branch, Leonora, Instructor in English, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass. [Park Street Apartments] Brandon, Edgar Ewing, Vice-President and Dean, Professor of Romance Languages, Miami University, Oxford, 0. Brashear, M. M., Instructor in English, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. [60S S. 4th St.] Braun, William Alfred, Associate Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Barnard College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Brede, Alexander, Professor of English and Head of Department of English, University of Nanking, Nanking, China. Brede, Charles F., Professor of French and Spanish, Northeast High School, Philadelphia, Pa. [176 Manheim, Germantown] Bredvold, Louis I., Assistant Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. 1621 Forest Ave.] Brenes-Mes6n, Roberto, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Syra­ cuse University, Syracuse, N. Y. [908 Madison St.] Brennecke, Henry, Instructor in German, New York University, New York, N. Y. [University Heights] Brett, Cyril, Professor of the English Language and Literature, University College, Cardiff, South Wales. Bretz, Harry, Professor of French, Orsinus College, Collegeville, Pa. Brewer, Edward Vere, Instructor in German, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. Brewer, John Wilmon, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [5 Craigie Circle.] Brewer, Theodore Hampton, Professor and Head of the Department of English, University of Oklahoma, Norman, Okla. Brewster, Dorothy, Lecturer in English, Extension Teaching, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [618 W. 114th St.] Brewster, William Tenney, Professor of English and Provost of Barnard College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Briggs, Fletcher, c. o. The Temple Tours, 350 Madison Ave., New York, N. Y. Briggs, William Dinsmore, Associate Professor of English, Leland Stanford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal. [249 Lowell Ave., Palo Alto] Bright, James Wilson, Professor of English Philology, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Brinsmade, Chapin, Instructor in French, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Briois, Louis F. D., Associate in French, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. Briquet Pierre-Edouard, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Van­ derbilt University, Nashville, Tenn. Bristol, Edward N., Henry Holt & Co., 19 W. 44th St., New York, N. Y. Britton, H. Hudson, Instructor in Modern Languages, University of Mich­ igan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1316 Volland St.] Brodeur, Arthur Gilchrist, Assistant Professor of English, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [125 Shasta St.] Bronk, Isabelle, Professor of the French Language and Literature, Swarth­ more College, Swarthmore, Pa. Bronson, Thomas Bertrand, Assistant Head Master and Head of the Modern Language Department, Lawrenceville School, Lawrenceville, N. J. Bronson, Walter C., Professor of English Literature, Brown University, Providence, R. I. Brooke, C. F. Tucker, Professor of English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1515 Yale Station] Brooks, George Edward, Instructor in English, Lake Forest College, Lake Forest, Hl. Brooks, Martin Kahao, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. [Box 855] Brooks, Neil Conwell, Assistant Professor of German, University of Illinois, Urbana, Hl. Broughton, Leslie Nathan, Assistant Professor of English, Cornell Univer­ sity, Ithaca, N. Y. [931 N. Tioga St.] Brovedani, J. H., Professor of Spanish and Italian, Queen’s University, Kingston, Ont. Brown, Arthur C. L., Professor of English, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. [625 Colfax St.] Brown, Beatrice Daw (Mrs. Carleton Brown), 227 Roberts Road, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Brown, Calvin S., Professor of Modem Languages, University of Mississippi, University, Miss. Brown, Carleton, Professor of English, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. [227 Roberts Road] Brown, Charles Barrett, Instructor in Spanish, Washington University, St. Louis Mo. [4913 Page Ave.] Brown, Frank Clyde, Professor of English, Trinity College, Durham, N. C. Brown, George Henry, Professor of Romance Languages, Polytechnic In­ stitute, Worcester, Mass. Brown, Harold Gibson, Instructor in English, U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. [217 Hanover St.] Brown, Joseph Epes, Fellow in English, Graduate School, Princeton Univer­ sity, Princeton, N. J. [30 Battle Road] Brown, Kent James, Professor of German, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Brown, Rollo Walter, Professor of Rhetoric and Composition, Carleton College, Northfield, Minn. [709 E. 4th St.] Brown, William Robertson, Teacher of English, Western State Normal, Kalamazoo, Mich. [518 Minor Ave.] Brownfield, Lillian Beeson, Professor of English Rhetoric and Composition, De Pauw University, Greencastle, Ind. [410 E. Walnut St.] Bruce, Harold Lawton, Associate Professor of English, University of Califor­ nia, Berkeley, Cal. [2422 Hilgard Ave.] Bruerton. Courtney, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Tufts College, Tufts College, Mass. Bruner, James Dowden, Professor of Romance Languages, Carson and Newman College, Jefferson City, Tenn. Brunetti, Menslor Thomas, Instructor in Romance Languages, West Vir­ ginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. [491 Front St.] Bruns, Friedrich, Assistant Professor of German, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [2330 Rowley Ave.] Brush, Henry Raymond, Professor of Romance Languages, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Cal. Brush, Murray Peabody, Director Tome School, Port Deposit, Md. Bryan, William Frank, Professor of English, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. [1907 Orrington St.] Bryson, Frederick Robertson, Associate Professor of French, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn. Buchanan, Milton Alexander, Professor of Italian and Spanish, University of Toronto, Toronto, Canada. Buck, Howard Swazey, Instructor in English, Yale College, New Haven, Conn. [242 York St.] Buck, Philo Melvin, Jr., Professor of English, Dean of the College of Arts and Sciences, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [1825 Pepper Ave.] Buckingham, Mary H., Boston, Mass. [96 Chestnut St.] Buell, Llewellyn Morgan, Assistant Professor of English, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Cal. Buell, Walter Hull, Master in German, The Hotchkiss School, Lakeville, Conn. Bufeum, Douglas Labafee, Professor of Romance Languages, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [60 Hodge Road] Bulger, Charles, Professor of Modem Languages, Municipal University of Akron, Akron, O. Bullock, Hazel Jane, Associate Professor of Modem Languages, Dickinson College, Carlisle, Pa. Bullock, Walter L., Associate in Italian, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Burgert, Rev. Edward, O. S. B., Professor of English, Subiaco College, Subi­ aco, Ark. Burgevin, Leslie G., Assistant Professor of English Literature, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass. Burgum, Edwin Berry, Instructor in English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Hl. [907 W. Oregon St.] Burkhard, Arthur, Instructor in German, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [1 Apley Court] Burkhard, Oscar Carl, Associate Professor of German, University of Minne­ sota, Minneapolis, Minn. [719 East River Road.] Burner, Willis Judson, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Univer­ sity of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. [515 South 5th St.] Burnett, Arthur W., c. o. Henry Holt & Co., 19 W. 44th St., New York City. Burnham, Josephine May, Associate Professor of English, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas [1652 Mississippi St.] Bursley, Philip E., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. Busch, Ella Adeline, Teacher of Spanish, George Washington High School, New York, N. Y. [35 Claremont Ave.] Bush, J. N. Douglas, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [Morrisburg, Ont., Can.] Bush, Stephen Hayes, Professor and Head of Department of Romance Languages, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. Bushee, Alice Huntington, Associate Professor of Spanish, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. Busse, Adolf, Professor of German and Director of Extension and Evening Sessions, Hunter College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Bussom, Thomas Wainwright, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn. [330 Washington St.] Butler, Pierce, Dean and Professor of English, Newcomb College, New Orleans, La. Butterworth, Joseph, Dept. of English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Buzzell, Marion S., Instructor in English, University of Maine, Orono, Me. Cabeen, Charles William, Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures, Syracuse University, Syracuse, N. Y. [807 Comstock Ave.] Cady, Frank William, Professor of English, Middlebury College, Middle­ bury, Vt. [47 South St.] Cairns, William B., Associate Professor of American Literature, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [2010 Madison St.] Callaway, Morgan, Jr., Professor of English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [1206 Guadalupe St.] Camera, Americo Ulysses Nicholas, Assistant Professor of Romance Lan­ guages, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. [575 Dahill Road, Brooklyn] Cameron, Margaret M., Instructor in French Language and Literature, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [36 Bedford St.] Camp, Charles Wellner, Instructor in English, West Virginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. [14 Union St.] Campbell, James Andrew, Professor of German, Knox College, Galesburg, Hl. Campbell, Killis, Professor of English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [2301 Rio Grande St.] Campbell, Lily B., Instructor in English, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Calif. [757 Heliotrope Drive] Campbell, Oscar James, Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1705 Washtenaw Ave.] Campbell, Robert James, Instructor in English, State College of Washing­ ton, Pullman, Wash. [1712 A St.] Campbell, Thomas Moody, Professor of German, Wesleyan University Middletown, Conn. Canby, Henry Seidel, Assistant Professor of English, Sheffield Scientific School, New Haven, Conn, (on leave). [47 Charlton St., New York, N. Y.] Canfield, Arthur Graves, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [909 E. University Ave.J Cannon, Lee Edwin, Professor and Chairman of the Department of Modem Languages, Hiram College, Hiram, O. Capers, Ruth S., Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia. [3333 Woodland Ave.] Carhart, Paul Worthington, Assistant Editor, G. and C. Merriam Co., Myrick Building, Springfield, Mass. Carmer, Carl Lamson, Associate Professor of English, University of Ala­ bama, Tuscaloosa, Ala. Carnahan, David Hobart, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, HI. Carpenter, Fred Donald, Professor of the German Language and Literature University of Vermont, Burlington, Vt. [28 Kingsland Terrace] Carpenter, Frederic Ives, Chicago, Ill. [5533 Woodlawn Ave.] Carpenter, James McFadden, Jr., Assistant Professor of Romance Lan­ guages, Haverford College, Haverford, Pa. Carpenter, Jennette, Professor of the English Language and Literature, Iowa State Teachers’ College, Cedar Falls, la. [412 W. 8th St.] Carr, Muriel Bothwell, Instructor in English, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [Folwell Hall] Carruth, William Herbert, Professor of Comparative Literature, Head of the Department of English, Stanford University. [Mayfield, Cal.] Carse, Elizabeth, Principal Northrop Collegiate School, Minneapolis, Minn. [Kenwood Parkway] Carson, Lucy Hamilton, Professor of English, Montana State Normal Col­ lege, Dillon, Mont. Carter, Henry Holland, Professor of English and Head of English Department, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [701 Atwater Ave.] Carter, Minnie Luella, Professor of Modern Languages, Doane College, Crete, Nebraska. [929 Boswell Ave.] Case, Arthur Ellicott, Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [918 Yale Station.] Casis, Lilia Mary, Professor of Romance Languages (Spanish), University of Texas, Austin, Tex. Caskey, John Homer, Assistant Professor of English, Baylor University, Waco, Tex. [1028 S. 5th St.] Castillo, Carlos, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [Box 42, Faculty Exchange] Cate, Florence M., Professor of French, Southwestern College, Winfield, Kan. [1415 E. 10th Ave.] Caughey, Mary Lapsley, Fellow in Old French, C. R. B. Educational Foundation, University of Brussels, Belgium. [41 Blvd. Bischoffsheim] Cavicchia, Gaetano, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Brown University, Providence, R. I. [180 Congdon Street] Cawley, Frank Stanton, Instructor in German, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. Cawley, Robert Ralston, Instructor in English, Princeton University Princeton, N. J. Cerf, Barry, Professor of Comparative Literature, Reed College, Portland, Ore. [1351 East 32nd St.] Chamberlin, Willis Arden, Professor of Modern Languages, Denison Univer­ sity, Granville, O. Champion, Edouard, Membere de la Societe des Gens de Lettres, Paris France [5 Quai Malaquais] Chandler, Charles Lyon, Curator of South American History and Litera­ ture, Widener Library, Harvard University. [1009 Pine St., Philadel­ phia, Pa.] Chandler, Frank Wadleigh, Professor of English and Comparative Liter­ ature, Dean of the College of Liberal Arts, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. [323 Warren Ave., Clifton, Cincinnati] Chandler, Zilpha, Instructor in English, Coe College, East Cedar Rapids, Iowa. [1207 Fifth Ave.] Chapin, George Scott, Assistant, Superintendent, Ohio State School for the Blind, Columbus, O. Chapman, Percy Addison, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Prince­ ton University, Princeton, N. J. [293 Nassau St.] Chapman, S. Hudson, Jr., Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall.] Charles, Arthur M., Professor of German, Earlham College, Richmond, Ind. Chappell, Louis Watson, Instructor in English, West Virginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. [81 Beverley Ave.] Chase, Gertrude, Assistant Professor of English, Wells College, Aurora, N. ¥. Chase, Lewis, Professor of English, Muhammadan Anglo-Oriental College, Aligarh, India. Chase, Stanley P., Associate Professor of English, Union College, Schenec­ tady, N. Y. [18 Union Ave.] Chatfield-Taylor, Hobart C., Santa Barbara, Cal. [Far Afield, Montecito^] Cheever, Louisa Sewall, Associate Professor of the English Language and Literature, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [34 Kensington Ave.] Chenery, Winthrop Holt, Chief, Department of Special Libraries, Public Library, Boston, Mass. Chenot, Anna Adele, Assistant Professor of French, Smith College, North­ ampton, Mass. [65 New South St.] Cherington, Frank Barnes, Teacher of English, High School of Commerce, New York, N. Y. [155 W. 65th St.] Chew, Samuel Claggett, Professor of English Literature, Bryn Mawr Col­ lege, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Cheydleur, Frederic D., Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Univer­ sity of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [2109 Rowley Ave.] Child, Clarence Griffin, Professor of English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [Merion, Pa.] Childs, Francis Lane, Professor of English, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Chinard, Gilbert, Professor of French, Johns Hopkins University, Balti­ more, Md. Christ, Harold James, Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] Christian, Eleanor Ayres, (Mrs. F. L. Christian), Fort H. T. Wright, New York. Church, Henry Ward, Professor of Romance Languages, Allegheny College Meadville, Pa. [296 Loomis St.] Church, Howard Wadsworth, Head of Department of German, Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass. (Box 173] Churchill, George Bosworth, Professor of English Literature, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Churchman, Philip Hudson, Professor of Romance Languages, Clark Uni­ versity, Worcester, Mass. [20 Institute Road] Cisler, Lilian E., Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [424 S. 40th St.] Clancy, George Carpenter, Professor of English, Beloit College, Beloit, Wis. [1221 Eaton Ave.] Clark, Amelia Elizabeth, Assistant Professor of French, Elmira College, Elmira, N. Y. Clark, David Lee, Instructor in English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. Clark, Eugene Francis, Professor of German and Secretary of Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Clark, Evert Mordecai, Adjunct Professor of English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [University Station] Clark, Jane Perry, c/o Mrs. Abernathy, Gulph Road, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Clark, John Owen, Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] Clark, Mary, F., Instructor in French, Brockton High School, 4 Woodside Ave., Brockton, Mass. Clark, Thatcher, Romance Language Department, Columbia University, New York City. [Fumald Hall] Clark, Thomas Arkle, Professor of Rhetoric and Dean of Men, University of Illinois, Urbana, Hl. [152 Administration Building] Clarke, Charles Cameron, Professor of French, Sheffield Scientific School, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [254 Bradley St.] Clawson, William Hall, Assistant Professor of English, University College, Toronto, Canada. Cleveland, Eunice J., Teacher of English, Evanston Township High School, Evanston, Ill. [205 Hamilton St.] Click, L. L., Instructor in English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. Cloppet, Jean B., Instructor in French, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1010 Forest Ave.] Closson, Earle Russell, Instructor in Modern Languages, Worcester Poly­ technic Institute, Worcester, Mass. Clubb, Merrel Dare, Graduate Student in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [177 Beacon Ave.] Cobb, Charles Wiggins, Associate Professor of Mathematics, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Coester, Alfred, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Stanford University, Calif. Coffin, Robert P. T., Assistant Professor of English, Wells College, Aurora- on-Cayuga, N. Y. [Wavebank] Coffman, Bertha Reed, Instructor in Comparative Literature, The Univer­ sity of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [Faculty Exchange] Coffman, George Raleigh, Professor of English, [26 Oxford Street, Cam­ bridge, Mass.] Cohn, Adolphe, Emeritus Professor of the Romance Languages and Litera­ tures, Columbia University. [14 Place Venddme, Paris, France] Colburn, Guy Blandin, Professor of Modern Languages, State Teachers College, Fresno, Calif. Colby, Carl Converse, Instructor in Romance Languages, Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Me. Colby, Elbridge, Captain of Infantry, U. S. Army, 229 State, War and Navy Building, Washington, D. C. Coleman, Algernon, Professor of French, University of Chicago, Chicago, Hl. [5712 Dorchester Ave.] Collier, Elizabeth Brownell, Assistant Professor of English, Hunter College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. [282 De Kalb Ave., Brook­ lyn] Collins, George Stuart, Professor of Modem Languages, Polytechnic Insti­ tute, Brooklyn, N. Y. Collins, Julie Loba, Head of Department of Romance Languages, Northern Normal and Industrial School, Aberdeen, S. D. [1215 N. First St.] Collins, Vamum Lansing, Professor of the French Language and Literature, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. Collitz, Hermann, Professor of Germanic Philology, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Colville, William T., Carbondale, Pa. Colwell, William Arnold, Professor of the German Language and Litera­ ture, Adelphi College, Brooklyn, N. Y. Comfort, William Wistar, President of Haverford College, Haverford, Pa. Compton, Alfred D., Associate Professor of English, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. [Convent Ave. and 139th St.] Conant, Martha Pike, Associate Professor of English Literature, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. Confrey, Burton, Assistant Professor of English, University of Notre Dame, Notre Dame, Ind. Conklin, Clara, Professor of Modern Languages, and Chairman of the Department, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. Conklin, Henry Ernest, Instructor in English, The Rice Institute, Houston, Tex. Conley, Carey Herbert, Professor of Rhetoric, Wesleyan University, Mid­ dletown, Conn. [32 Wyllys St.] Connely, Willard, Assistant in English and Comparative Literature, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [7 Craigie Circle] Conrow, Georgianna, Assistant Professor of French, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. (on leave). Cons, Louis, Assistant Professor of French, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [84 Alexander St.] Constans, Antony, Assistant Professor of French, Smith CoUege, North­ ampton, Mass. Coogan, Margaret, Instructor in English, Highland Manor, Tarrytown, N. Y. Cook, Albert Stanburrough, Professor Emeritus of the English Language and Literature, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [219 Bishop St.] Cook, Elizabeth Christine, Assistant Professor of English, Teachers College, Columbia University, New York City. [501 W. 120th St.] Cook, Leroy James, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Cooke, John Daniel, Associate Professor of English, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, Cal. Cool, Charles Dean, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [1921 Keyes Ave.] Cooper, Clyde Barnes, Professor and Head of Department of English, Armour Institute of Technology, Chicago, Ill. Cooper, Lane, Professor of the English Language and Literature, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. Cooper, William Alpha, Professor of German, Leland Stanford Jr. Univer­ sity, Stanford University, Cal. Corbiere, Anthony S., Instructor in Romance Languages, Muhlenberg College, Allentown, Pa. [11 No. 11th St.] Corbin, Alberta Linton, Professor of German and Student Adviser, Univer­ sity of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [1108 Ohio Street] Corbin, William Lee, Professor of English Literature, Boston University, Boston, Mass. [27 Garrison St.] Corley, Ames Haven, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Yale College, New Haven, Conn. [1822 Yale Station] Cornelius, Roberta Douglas, Adjunct Professor of English, Randolph-Macon Woman’s College, Lynchburg, Va. Cornish (Mrs.) Beatrice Quijada, Associate in Spanish, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [1406 Hawthorne Terrace] Cornwell, Irene, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Wis­ consin, Madison, Wis. Cornelson, Charles Arthur, Professor and Head of the Department of English, State College of Washington, Pullman, Wash. Corwin, Robert Nelson, Professor of German, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [247 St. Ronan St.] Coues, Robert Wheaton, Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [6 Mason St.] Cousins, Clarence Edwin, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [Box 82] Coutinho, J. de Siqueira, Professor of Portuguese, George Washington University, Washington, D. C. [8 Evarts St., N. E.] Covington, Frank Frederick, Jr., Instructor in English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [2621 University Ave.] Cowdery, Kirke Lionel, Associate Professor of French, Oberlin College, Oberlin, O. [184 Woodland Ave.] Cowper, Frederick Augustus Grant, Professor of Romance Languages, Trinity College, Durham, N. C. [603 Watts St.] Cox, Catherine Morris, Instructor in German, Stanford University, Calif. Cox, John Harrington, Professor of English Philology, West Virginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. [34 University Driveway] Craig, Hardin, Professor and Head of the Department of English, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. Crandall, Regina K., Professor of English Composition, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. [Low Buildings] Crane, Clara Whitney, Instructor in English, Elmira College, Elmira, N. Y. Crane, Ronald Salmon, Associate Professor of English, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. [1823 Wesley Ave.] Craver, Arthur William, Associate Professor of English, Miami University, Oxford, 0. Crawford, Bartholow Vincent, Assistant Professor of English, State Univer­ sity of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [415 E. Roland St.] Crawford, Douglas Gordon, Associate Professor of English, Boston Univer­ sity, Boston, Mass. [36 Morton St., Andover, Mass.] Crawford, James Pyle Wickersham, Professor of Romanic Languages and Literatures, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Crawshaw, William Henry, Dean and Professor of General Literature, Colgate University, Hamilton, N. Y. Creek, Herbert Le Sourd, Professor of English, Purdue University, Lafay­ ette, Ind. Croissant, De Witt C., Professor of English, George Washington University, Washington, D. C. Croll, Morris William, Professor of English Literature, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. Crooks, Esther Josephine, Instructor in Romance Languages, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. Cross, Tom Peete, Associate Professor of English and Comparative Litera­ ture, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [5729 Blackstone Ave.] Cross, Wilbur Lucius, Professor of English, Dean of the Graduate School, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [24 Edgehill Road] Crowell, Asa Clinton, Associate Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Brown University, Providence, R. I. [66 Oriole Ave.] Crowell, Robert Warner. Assistant Professor of German and French, Union College, Schenectady, N. Y. [408 Rugby Rd.] Crowell, Winifred Gardner, Instructor in English, Georgia State College for Women, Milledgeville, Ga. [Box 113] Crowley, W. Irving, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [Folwell Hall] Crowne, Joseph Vincent, Assistant Professor of English, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Cummings, Hubertis Maurice, Assistant Professor of English, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. Coniipfe, John William, Professor of English and Associate Director of the School of Journalism, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Curme, George Oliver, Professor of Germanic Philology, Northwestern University, Evanston, DI. [Lunt Library] Currier, Francis Morton, Master in Modem Languages, St. Alban’s School, Washington, D. C. Curry, Walter Clyde, Associate Professor of English, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn. Curts, Paul Holroyd, Professor of German, Wesleyan University, Middle- town, Conn. Cushwa, Frank William, Professor of English, Phillips Exeter Academy, Exeter, N. H. Cutting, Starr Willard, Professor Emeritus of German, The University of Chicago [West Brattleboro, Vt.] Dale, George Irving, Associate Professor of Spanish and Italian, Washing­ ton University, St. Louis, Mo. Damon, Lindsay Todd, Professor of English, Brown University, Providence, R. I. Damon, Samuel Foster, Assistant in English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [138 Mt. Auburn St.] Dana, Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, Lecturer on Literature, New School for Social Research, 465 W. 23rd St., New York City. Daniels, Francis Potter, Associate Professor of French, Georgia State College for Women, Milledgeville, Ga. [Box 84] Danton, George Henry, Professor of German, Tsing Hua College, Peking, China. Darby, Arleigh Lee, Professor of Romance Languages, West Virginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. Dargan, Edwin Preston, Professor of French Literature, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Dargan, Henry McCune, Professor of English, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Darnall, Henry Johnston, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, Tenn. [809 Walnut Street] David, Henri Charles-Edouard, Associate Professor of French Literature, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Davidson, Harold Matthew, Professor of French, Hillsdale College, Hills­ dale, Mich. [180 Hillsdale St.] Davidson, Levette Jay, Associate Professor of English Literature, Univer­ sity of Denver, Denver, Colo. [University Park] Davidson, Mabel, Adjunct Professor of English, Randolph-Macon Woman’s College, Lynchburg, Va. [1518 Early St.] Davies, James, Assistant Professor of German, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [2632 Pillsbury Ave.] Davis, Estelle Headley, Lecturer in English, Barnard College, Columbia University, New York City. Davis, Edward Ziegler, Assistant Professor of German, University of Penn­ sylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [48th and Woodland Ave.] Davis, Henry Campbell, Professor of the English Language and Rhetoric, University of South Carolina, Columbia, S. C. [1 University Campus] Davis, Herbert John, Associate Professor of English Literature, University College, Toronto, Canada. Davis, John Janies, Department of Romance Languages, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. [Box 82] Davis, Mrs. Martelle Elliott, Professor and Head of Modem Language Department, Ohio Northern University, Ada, Ohio. Davis, William Hawley, Professor of English and Public Speaking, Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Me. [4 Page St.] Davis, William Rees, Professor and Head of the Department of English, Whitman CoUege, WaUa WaUa, Wash. [401 Cypress St.] Daw, M. EmUy, Instructor in English, New Jersey State Normal School, Trenton, N. J. [634 W. State St.] Decker, Winifred ComwaU, Professor of German, State CoUege for Teachers, Albany, N. Y. Deering, Robert WaUer, Professor of German, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. [2931 Somerton Road, Cleveland Heights] De Forest, John Bellows, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of Vermont, Burlington, Vt. [200 Loomis St.] Delano, Charles Cudworth, Professor of Greek and Romance Languages, Mt. AUison University, SackviUe, N. B. Delson, Solomon Menahem, Professor and Head of the Department of Romance Languages, Hamline University, St. Paul, Minn. Denkinger, Emma MarshaU, Associate Professor of English, WeUesley CoUege, WeUesley, Mass. [98 Addington Rd., Brookline, Mass.] Denney, Joseph ViUiers, Professor of EngUsh and Dean of the CoUege of Arts, Philosophy, and Science, Ohio State University, Columbus, 0. Denton, George Bion, Professor of Technical Composition, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. [716 Clark St.] D’Evelyn, Charlotte, Associate Professor of English Literature, Mount Holyoke CoUege, South Hadley, Mass. De Vane, WUUam Clyde, Jr., Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. De Vries, Louis, Professor and Head of the Department of Modem Lan­ guages, Iowa State CoUege, Ames, la. Dewey, Malcolm Howard, Professor and Head of the Department of Romance Languages, Emory University, Emory University, Georgia. Dewey, Robert MerriU, Assistant Professor of English, Smith CoUege, Northampton, Mass. [83 Crescent St.] Dey, WUliam Morton, Professor of Romance Languages, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Dickerman, C. Henry, Assistant Professor of EngUsh and in Charge of JoumaUsm, Denison University, GranvUle, O. [Box 597] Dickey, WUUam P., Roxbury Latin School, Roxbury, Mass. [Technology Chambers, Boston, Mass.] Dickman, Adolphe, Instructor in French, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [623 E. Burlington St.] Dickinson, Arthur, Instructor in English, Preparatory High School, College of the City of New York, New York City. [98 Morningside Ave.] Dickson, Mrs. Alice M., Editorial Department, Doubleday, Page & Co., Garden City, N. Y. Diekhoff, Tobias J. C., Professor of German, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. Diez, Max, Professor of German, Center College, Danville, Ky. [344 Maple Ave.] Dingus, Leonidas Reuben, Professor of French and Spanish, Transylvania College, Lexington, Ky. Ditchy, Jay K., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. [172 Green St.] Dodge, Daniel Kilham, Professor of the English Language and Literature, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Dodge, Robert Elkin Neil, Associate Professor of English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [410 N. Butler St.] Dodson, Ellen MacKenzie, Instructor in English, Mills College, Oakland, Calif. [Box 5, Garden Grove, Cal.] Dollinger, Verona Mae, Instructor in English, Ohio State University, Colum­ bus, O. [1806 N. High St.] Dondo, Mathurin Marius, Assistant Professor of French, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2527 Le Conte Ave.] Doniat, Josephine C., Instructor in French, Crane Junior College, Chicago, IU. [2246 W. Van Buren St.] DonneUy, Lucy Martin, Professor of English, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Dooley, Mabel, Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. 1415 Sterling St.] Douay, Gaston, Professor of French, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. Dow, Lafayette Francis, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1302 Hormann St.] Dow, Louis Henry, Professor of French, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Dow, Robert Bruce, Graduate Student, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [1775 Massachusetts Ave.] Downer, Charles Alfred, Professor of Romance Languages, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Doyle, Henry Grattan, Professor of Romance Languages, George Washing­ ton University, Washington, D. C. [5416 33d St., Chevy Chase, D. C.] Draper, John William, Associate Professor of English, University of Maine, Orono, Me. Drew, Helen L., Professor and Head of the Department of English, Rockford College, Rockford, Ill. Driscoll, Emily Arondel, Instructor in English, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass. Drummond, Robert Rutherford, Professor of German, University of Maine, Orono, Me. Dudley, Louise, Professor of English, Stephens College, Columbia, Mo. Dulac, Victor, Professor of French, Notre Dame College and Teachers College, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Dunham, Howard Floyd, Assistant Professor of French, Dartmouth Col­ lege, Hanover, N. H. Dunkel, Wilbur Dwight, Graduate Student, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [14 Oxford St.] Dunlap, Charles Graham, Professor of English Literature, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. Dunn, Esther Cloudman, Assistant Professor of English, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [10 West St.] Dunn, Joseph, Professor of Celtic Languages and Lecturer in Romance Languages, Catholic University, Washington, D. C. Durel, Lionel C., Professor and Head of the Department of French, New­ comb College, New Orleans, La. Durham, Willard Higley, Associate Professor of English, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. [1525 La Loma Ave.] Dutton, George Burwell, Professor of English Literature, Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. Dutton, George Elliott, Professor of English, University of Delaware, Newark, Del. Dye, Alexander Vincent, United States Trade Commissioner, American Embassy, London, England. Dye, William Seddinger, Jr., Professor of the English Language and Litera­ ture, Pennsylvania State College, State College, Pa. [317 W. Beaver Ave.] Easley, Katherine, Dean of Women and Assistant Professor of English Literature, University of the City of Toledo, Toledo, Ohio. Eastburn, Iola Kay, Professor of German, Wheaton College, Norton, Mass. Easter, De la Warr B., Professor of Romance Languages, Washington and Lee University, Lexington, Va. Eastman, Clarence Willis, Professor of the German Language and Literature, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Eaton, Harold Thomas, Dept. of English, Central High School, Syracuse, N. Y. [1835 Bellevue Ave.] Edgerly, Clifton Tisdale, Instructor in French, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [820 Elm St.J Egan, Rose F., Assistant Professor of English, Smith College, Northampton, t Mass. [134 South St.] Ehrensperger, Edward C., Instructor in English, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. [1808 Sherman Ave.) Eisenlohr, Berthold A., Professor of German, Ohio State University, Colum­ bus, O. Eiserhardt, Ewald, Professor of German, University of Rochester, Roches­ ter, N. Y. [145 Harvard St.] Eldrige, Jay Glover, Professor of the German Language and Literature, University of Idaho, Moscow, Idaho. Ellinger, Esther Parker, Baltimore, Md. [12 W. 25th St.] Elliott, George Roy, Professor of English Literature, Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Me. Ellis, Amanda M., Instructor in English, Des Moines University, Highland Park, Des Moines, la. [Childs Hall] Ellis, Harold Milton, Professor and Head of the Department of English, University of Maine, Orono, Me. Ellis, James L., Department of English, Modesto Junior College, Modesto, Cal. [909 14th St.] Elsasser, Albert R., Scribner Fellow in English, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [112 Mercer St.] Emerson, Oliver Farrar, Professor of English, Western Reserve Univer­ sity, Cleveland, O. [1910 Wadena St., East Cleveland] Emery, Fred Parker, Professor of English, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Enders, John Franklin, Graduate Student in Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [17 Highland St., Hartford, Conn.] Emst, Adolphine B., Assistant Professor of German, University of Wiscon­ sin, Madison, Wis. Erskine, John, Professor of English, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Erwin, Edward James, Professor of English, Davidson College, Davidson, N. C. Escher, Erwin, Instructor in Romance Languages, The Rice Institute, Houston, Texas. Espinosa, Aurelio Macedonio, Professor of Romanic Languages, Stanford- University, Cal. Evans, Charles, Professor of German, Temple University, Philadelphia, Pa. Evans, George Fullerton, Instructor in English, University of Texas, Austin, Texas. [908 W. 26th St.] Evans, M. Blakemore, Professor of German, Ohio State University, Colum­ bus, O. Everett, Charles Warren, Instructor in English, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. Evers, Helene M., Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of New Mexico, Albuquerque, N. M. Ewart, Frank Carman, Professor of Romanic Languages, Colgate Univer­ sity, Hamilton, N. Y. Fahnestock, Edith, Associate Professor of Spanish, Vassar College, Pough­ keepsie, N. Y. (on leave). Fairchild, Arthur Henry Rolph, Professor of English, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. [10 Glenwood Ave.] Fairchild, Hoxie Neale, Lecturer in English, Columbia University, New York City. [419 W. 117th St.] Fairchild, J. R., American Book Co., 100 Washington Sq., New York, N. Y. Fairfield, Erie, Assistant Professor of German, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. [103 Morewood Ave., Oakland Station] Fairley, Barker, Professor of German, University College, Toronto, Ontario. Fansler, Dean Spruill, Professor of English, University of the Philippines, Manila, P. I. Farbish, Sidney Allmeyer, Professor of English, Frankford High School, Philadelphia, Pa. [2263 North Park Ave.] Faries, Jean Reichner, Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsyl­ vania, Philadelphia, Pa. [5038 Pine St.] Farley, Frank Edgar, Professor of English Literature, Wesleyan Univer­ sity, Middletown, Conn. Farley, Malcolm Fisk, Professor of English, Fukien Christian University, Foochow, China. Famham, Willard Edward, Associate Professor of English, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. Farnsworth, William Oliver, Professor of Romance Languages, Northwest­ ern University, Evanston, Ill. Farquhar, Edward Franklin, Professor of Literature, University of Ken­ tucky, Lexington, Ky. [242 Clay Ave.] Farr, Hollon Augustine, Assistant Professor of German, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [38 Yale Station] Farrand, Wilson, Head Master, Newark Academy, Newark, N. J. Farrar, Thomas James, Professor of Germanic Languages, Washington and Lee University, Lexington, Va. Faulkner, William Harrison, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Va. [1 West Lawn, University, Va.] Faurot, Albert A., Professor of Modern Languages, Rose Polytechnic Institute, Terre Haute, Ind. Faust, Albert Bernhardt, Professor of German, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [Cornell Heights] Faust-Newton, Cosette, Dallas, Tex. [4005 Miramar Ave.] Fay, Charles Ernest, Professor of Modem Languages, Tufts College, Tufts College, Mass. Fay, Percival Bradshaw, Associate Professor of French, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [955 Mendocino Ave.] Feise, Ernst, Assistant Professor of German, Ohio State University, Colum­ bus, Ohio. Fenton, Doris, Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [1319 Spruce St.] Feraru, Lion, Instructor in French, University Extension, Columbia Univer­ sity, New York, N. Y. Ferguson, John De Lancey, Associate Professor of English, Ohio Wesleyan University, Delaware, O. [94 S. Liberty St.] Ferguson, Thomas Ewing, Instructor in English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [University Station] Ferren, Harry M.,San Diego, Cal. [3231 Fourth St.] Ferrin, Dana Holman, The Century Co., 353 Fourth Ave., New York, N. Y. Fess, Gilbert Malcolm, Professor of Romance Languages, Hillsdale College, Hillsdale, Mich. [230 West St.] Ficke, Rev. Hermann Styles, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [161 Hancock St.] Ficken, Hilbert Theodore, Professor of Modern Languages, Baldwin- Wallace College, Berea, O. Fife, Robert Herndon, Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Fineman, Hayim, Professor of English Literature, Temple University, Philadelphia, Pa. Finney, Claude Lee, Instructor in English, Vanderbilt University, Nash­ ville, Tenn. [1104 17th Ave. So.] Fisher, John Roberts, Professor of Modem Languages, Randolph-Macon College, Ashland, Va. Fiske, Christabel Forsyth, Associate Professor of English, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. (on leave). Fitz-Gerald, John Driscoll, Professor of Spanish, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Fitzgerald, Mrs. Sara Porter, Dallas, Tex. [3302 Oak Lawn Ave.] FitzGerald, Thomas Austin, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [1009 S. Busey Ave.] Fitz-Hugh, Thomas, Professor of Latin, University of Virginia, University, Va. Fitzpatrick, Lilian, Graduate Student in English, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [Bethany, Neb.] Flack, Robert C., Graduate Student, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [16 Quincy St.] Fletcher, Jefferson Butler, Professor of Comparative Literature, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [112 E. 22d St.] Flitcroft, John Ehret, Instructor in English, Rensellaer Polytechnic Insti­ tute, Troy, N. Y. [102 First St.] Flom, George Tobias, Professor of Scandinavian Languages and Literatures. University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Flowers, Olive, Teacher of French, West High School, Columbus, O. [825 Franklin Ave.] Foerster, Norman, Professor of English, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Fogg, Miller Moore, Professor of English, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. Fogle, David Edgar, Professor and Head of Department of Modern Lan­ guages, Georgetown College, Georgetown, Ky. Folger, Joseph Butler, Jr., Instructor in Romance Languages, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. [13 W. Wheelock St.] Ford, Daniel, Dean of the Faculty and Head of the Department of English, Lake Forest College, Lake Forest, Ill. Ford, Harry Egerton, Professor of French Language and Literature, Vic­ toria College, Toronto University, Toronto, Canada. Ford, J. D. M., Professor of the French and Spanish Languages, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [9 Riedesel Ave.] Ford, R. Clyde, Professor of Modern Languages, State Normal CoUege, Ypsilanti, Mich. [607 Pearl St.] Fore, Harry Franklin, Associate Professor of English, Purdue University, Lafayette, Ind. Foreman, Kenneth Joseph, Acting Associate Professor of German, Davidson College, Davidson, N. C. [Box 526] Forman, Elizabeth Chandlee (Mrs. H. B.), Haverford, Pa. Forsythe, Robert Stanley, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, Northwestern University, Evanston, IU. [1220 Elmwood Ave.] Fosnocht, Eddy Burke, Instructor in French and Spanish, New Haven High School, New Haven, Conn. [67 Putnam Ave., WhitneyviUe] Fossler, Laurence, Professor of Modem Languages, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. Foster, Dorothy, Associate Professor of English Literature, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass. Foster, Elizabeth Andros, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Smith CoUege, Northampton, Mass. [Dickinson House] Foster, Finley MelviUe Kendall, Associate Professor of EngUsh, University of Delaware, Newark, Del. [P. O. Box 273] Foster, Frances AUen, Associate Professor of EngUsh, Lawrence CoUege, Appleton, Wis. [1065 Front St.] Foster, Irving Lysander, Professor of Romance Languages, Pennsylvania State CoUege, State CoUege, Pa. [140 S. Pugh St.] Foster, James Ralph, Instructor in English, University of Minnesota, MinneapoUs, Minn. [317J^ Folwell HaU] Four6, Robert, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Ohio State University, Columbus, Ohio. [115 W. 11th Ave.] Fowler, Earle Broadus, Professor and Head of the Department of English, University of LouisvUle, LouisviUe, Ky. Fowler, Thomas Howard, Professor of German, Wells CoUege, Aurora, N. Y. Fraker, Charles Frederick, Instructor in Romance Languages, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [1056 Commonwealth Ave., Brook­ line, Mass.] Frampton, Mendal G., Professor of English Language, Pomona College, Claremont, Calif. Francke, Kuno, Professor of the History of German Culture, Emeritus, and Honorary Curator of the Germanic Museum, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [3 Berkeley Place] Frank, Grace, Baltimore, Md. [Mrs. Tenney Frank, 110 Elmhurst Road, Roland Parkl Franklin, George Bruce, Professor of English, Evansville College, Evans­ ville, Ind. [711 S. First St.] Fraser, Margaret E. N., Professor of Romance Languages, Randolph-Macon Woman’s College, Lynchburg, Va. Freedman, Leo, President Rhodes School New York City. [135 W. 119th St.] Freeman, Clarence Campbell, Professor and Head of the Department of English, Transylvania College, Lexington, Ky. Frelin, Jules Theophile, Assistant Professor of French, University of Minne­ sota, Minneapolis, Minn. French, George Franklin, Instructor in Modern Languages, Phillips Acad­ emy, Andover, Mass. [12 School St.] French, John Calvin, Associate Professor of English, Johns Hopkins Univer­ sity, Baltimore, Md. [416 Cedarcroft Road] French, M. Katherine Jackson (Mrs. W. F.), Shreveport, La. [850 Ontario St.] French, Robert Dudley, Assistant Professor of English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [49 Clifford St., Whitneyville] Fries, Charles Carpenter, Associate Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [7 Harvard Place] Friess, Charlotte L., Instructor in German, Hunter College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. [70 Morningside Drive] FroeUcher, Hans, Professor of German, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. Frotscher, Lydia E., Assistant Professor of English, Newcomb College, New Orleans, La. Fucilla, Joseph G., Instructor in Romance Languages, Iowa State College, Ames, la. Fuentes, Ventura P., Associate Professor of Spanish, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Fuess, Claude Moore, Instructor in English, Phillips Academy, Andover, Mass. [183 Main St.] Fulcher, Paul Milton, Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Furst, J. Henry, J. H. Furst Co., 23 S. Hanover St., Baltimore, Md. Galland, Joseph Stanislaus, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [420 N. Indiana Ave.] Galloo, Eug&nie, Professor and Head of the Department of Romance Lan­ guages and Literatures, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. Galpin, Stanley Leman, Professor of Romance Languages, Trinity College, Hartford, Conn. Galt, Mary Meares, Professor of Romance Languages, Hood College, Frederick, Md. [316 Rockwell Terrace] Gardiner, Dorothy Margaret, Acting Dean of Women and Assistant Profes­ sor of English, Whitman College, Walla Walla, Wash. [Reynolds Hall] Gardner, Edward Hall, Associate Professor of Business Administration, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [215 Forest St.] Gardner, Eugene Elmore, Assistant Professor of English, Furman Univer­ sity, Greenville, S. C. Gardner, May, Assistant Professor, Department of Hispanic Languages and Literatures, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. Garrett, Robert Max, Associate Professor of English, University of Washing­ ton, Seattle, Wash. Garrison, Stewart Lee, Associate Professor of English and Public Speaking, Amherst CoUege, Amherst, Mass. [125 S. Pleasant St.] Garver, Milton, Instructor in French, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [767 Yale Station] Gates, William Bryan, Instructor in EngUsh, Southwestern University, Georgetown, Tex. Gault, Pierre, Instructor in French, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. [7 Woodside Ave.] Gauss, Christian, Professor of Modem Languages, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. Gaw, AUison, Professor and Head of the Department of English, Univer­ sity of Southern California, Los Angeles, Cal. [1915 Cordova St.] Gaw, Mks. Ralph H., Topeka, Kas. [1321 Filmore St.] Gay, Lucy Maria, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [216 N. Pinckney St.] Gayley, Charles Mills, Professor of English, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2328 Piedmont Ave.] Geddes, James Jr., Professor of Romance Languages, Boston University, Boston, Mass. [39 Fairmount St., Brookline, Mass.] Gee, John Archer, Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [244 Edgewood Ave.] Geissendoerfer, John Theodore, Instructor in German, University of BUinois, Urbana, IU. [210 University HaU] Genzmer, George Harvey, Instructor in English, University Extension, Columbia University, New York City. [120 Haven Ave.] Gerig, John Lawrence, Associate Professor of Celtic, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Gerould, Gordon Hall, Professor of English, Princeton University, Prince­ ton, N. J. Ghosh, Praphulla Chandra, Professor of English and University Lecturer in English, Presidency College, Calcutta, India. Gibbs, Lincoln Robinson, Professor of Literature, Antioch College, Yellow Springs, Ohio. [Box 234] Gibbs, Warren E., Instructor in English, New York University, New York, N. Y. [2015 University Ave.] Gilbert Allan H., Professor of English, Trinity College, Durham, N. C. Gilbert, Donald Monroe, Professor of Modem Languages, Albion College, Albion, Mich. [1209 Perry St.] Gildersleeve, Mina A., Head of Dept. of Modern Languages, Northern State Normal School, Marquette, Mich. Gildersleeve, Virginia Crocheron, Dean and Professor of English, Barnard College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Gillet, Joseph Eugene, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [318 Folwell Hall] Gilli, Claude, Associate Professor of Romance Philology, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Gilligan, Arthur Chew, Instructor in Romance Languages, Harvard Univer­ sity, Cambridge, Mass. Gilmore, David Percy, Instructor in Romance Languages, Rutgers College, New Brunswick, N. J. [224 Suydam St.] Gimeno, Patricio, Professor of Spanish, University of Oklahoma, Norman, Okla. [569 University Blvd.] Gingerich, Solomon Francis, Associate Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [20 Highland Road] Girard, William, Assistant Professor of French, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [1589 Le Roy Ave.] Glascock, Clyde Chew, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Univer­ sity of Texas, Austin, Tex. [611 West 22nd St.] Glueck, Marion E., Instructor in English, Hollins College, Hollins, Va. Goddard, Eunice Rathbone, Instructor in French, The Bryn Mawr School, Baltimore, Md. [13 E. Read St.] Goddard, Harold Clarke, Professor of English, Swarthmore College, Swarthmore, Pa. Goebel, Julius, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Goetsch, Charles, Associate Professor, of Germanic Philology, University of Chicago, Chicago, Hl. Goggio, Charles, Associate Professor of Romanic Languages, University of Washington, Seattle, Wash. Goggio, Emilio, Assistant Professor of Italian and Spanish, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ont. Golden, Clear Clement, Graduate Student, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [70 Trumbull St.] Golder, Harold, Graduate Student, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. : t [Room 3, Conant Hall] Goldiere, Augustin V., Assistant Professor of Spanish, Davidson College, Davidson, N. C. Gonzilez, Manuel P., Instructor in Spanish, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. Good, John Walter, Professor of English, Georgia State College for Women, Milledgeville, Ga. Goodale, Ralph Hinsdale, Professor of English Literature, Hiram College, Hiram, O. Goodchild, Donald, Instructor in English, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [35 Bank St.] Goode, Clement Tyson, Professor of English, Mercer University, Macon, Ga. Goodell, Donald Ralph, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [21 Chauncey St.] Goodman, Theodore, Instructor in English, College of the City of New York, New York City. Goodrich, Charles Gourlay, Professor of Modem Languages, Monmouth College, Monmouth, Ill. [413 North 9th St.] Goodyear, Nolan Austin, Associate Professor of Modem Languages, Emory University, Emory University, Ga. Gordon, Armistead Churchill, Jr., Assistant Professor of English Literature, University of Virginia, University, Va. Gordon, Robert W., Assistant Professor of English, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. [1262 Euclid Ave.] Gorman, Frank Thorpe, Instructor in Spanish, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [12 Edgehill St.] Gott, Charles, Associate Professor of English, Carnegie Institute of Tech­ nology, Pittsburgh, Pa. Gould, Chester Nathan, Assistant Professor of German and Scandinavian Literatures, University of Chicago, Chicago, 111. Graham, G. Nelson, Instructor in Spanish, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. Graham, Malbone Watson, Instructor in Spanish, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. [Box 30, W’heeler Hall] Graham, Walter James, Assistant Professor of English, Adelbert College of Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. Geandgent, Charles Hall, Professor of Romance Languages, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [107 Walker St.] Grant, Elliott Mansfield, Assistant Professor of French, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [15 Arnold Ave.] Grant, Harry Alexander, Junior Master, English High School, Boston, Mass. [12 Wren St., West Roxbury] Graves, Isabel, Associate Professor of English, The Temple University, Philadelphia, Pa. Graves, Thornton Shirley, Professor of English, University of North Caro­ lina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Gray, Austin K., Professor of English, Haverford College, Haverford, Pa. Gray, Charles Harold, Assistant Professor of English, Adelphi College, Brooklyn, N. Y. Gray, Charles Henry, Professor of English, Tufts College, Tufts College, Mass [97 Talbot Ave.] Gray, Claudine, Associate Professor of French, Hunter College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Gray, Henry David, Associate Professor of English, Leland Stanford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal. Green, Alexander, Modem Language Editor for D. C. Heath & Co., 231- 245 W. 39th St., New York, N. Y. Green, Charles Edward, Professor and Head of Department of Modern Languages, Centenary College, Shreveport, La. Greene, Edward M., Professor and Head of Department of Romance Languages, University of South Dakota, Vermillion, S. D. [115 Har­ vard St.] Greene, Ernest Roy, Professor of Romance Languages, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Greene, Herbert Eveleth, Collegiate Professor of English, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. [1019 St. Paul St.] Greene, Kenneth Dunham, Graduate Student in Romance Languages and Literatures, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [70 Trumbull St.] Greene, Walter Kirkland, Dean and Head of the Department of English, Wesleyan College, Macon, Ga. Greenlaw, Edwin, Professor of English and Dean of the Graduate School, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Greenleaf, Charles H., Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [625 Mendota Court] Greenough, Chester Noyes, Professor of English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [26 Quincy St.] Greever, Gustavus Garland, Acting Professor of English, University of Colorado, Boulder, Colo. Grevenig, Gustave Valentin, Head of the Department of Romance Lan­ guages, College of St. Teresa, Winona, Minn. [1067 W. Wabasha St.] Grey, Robert G., Instructor in German, University Extension Division, Columbia University, New York City, [204 W. 109th St.] Griebsch, Max, Director National Teachers’ Seminary, 558-568 Broadway, Milwaukee, Wis. Griffin, James 0., Professor of German, Emeritus, Leland Stanford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal. Griffin, Nathaniel Edward, Instructor in English, University of Pennsyl­ vania, Philadelphia, Pa. Griffith, Dudley David, Professor of English, Grinnell College, Grinnell, la. [1335 40th St., Des Moines, la.] Griffith, Reginald Harvey, Professor of English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [University Station] Grimes, Evie Margaret, Professor of French, Elmira College, Elmira, N. Y. Grimm, Charles, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. Grimm, Karl Josef, Professor of the German Language and Literature, Pennsylvania College, Gettysburg, Pa. Gring, Rev. Ambrose D., 220 Brattle St., Cambridge, Mass. Gkiscom, Rev. Acton, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [37 Fifth Ave.] Groves, Owen Griffith, Associate Professor of English, Bucknell University, Lewisburg, Pa. [P. 0. Box 212] Gruenbaum, Gustav, Associate in Romance Languages, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Gruener, Gustav, Professor of German, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [146 Lawrance Hall] Grummann, Paul H., Professor of Dramatic Literature, Director of the School of Fine Arts, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [1967 South St.] Gudde, Erwin G., Associate in German, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2708 Dana St.] Gu6rard, Albert L6on, Professor of the History of French Civilization, The Rice Institute, Houston, Tex. Guiet, Rene Georges, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [904 W. Illinois St.] Guillet, Cephas, Professor of Romance Languages, Colorado College, Colorado Springs, Col. Guinn, Robert Darius, Instructor in Spanish, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [529 Oak St., S. E.] Guilloton, Vincent, Associate Professor of the French Language and Litera­ ture, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [143 West St.] Gulliver, Harold Strong, Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1878 Yale Station] Guinotte, Marguerite, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [217 Harvard St., S. E.] Guitner, Alma, Professor of German, Otterbein College, Westerville, O. [75 W. CoUege Ave.] Gustafson, Walter William, Professor of EngUsh, Uspala CoUege, Kenil­ worth, N. J. Gutierrez, Santiago, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. Guyer, Foster Erwin, Assistant Professor of French, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Gwathmey, Edward Moseley, Associate Professor of English, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Va. [P. O. Box 67] Gwyn, Virginia Percival (Mrs. H. B.), P. O. Box 447, Libertyville, Ill. Hacker, Emil Frederic, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. [1580 Wesley Ave.] Hadsell, Sardis Roy, Professor of English, University of Oklahoma, Norman, Okla. [720 De Barr Ave.] Haessler, Luise, Associate Professor of German, Hunter College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. [100 Morningside Drive.] Hagboldt, Peter Hermann, Department of German, School of Education, The University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Hagen, Sivert Nielsen, Professor of English, Pennsylvania College, Gettys­ burg, Pa. Hager, Frank L., Professor of Modern Languages, Central College, Fayette, Mo. [204 Spring St.] Hale, Edward E., Professor of English, Union College, Schenectady, N. Y. Hale, William Gardner, Professor Emeritus of Latin, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [Shippan Point, Stamford, Conn.] Hale, Will Taliaferro, Assistant Professor of English, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [521 Park Ave.] Hall, Edgar A., Professor of English, Adelphi College, Brooklyn, N. Y. [147 Fenimore St.] Hall, Ernest James, Instructor in Spanish, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [266 Everit St.] Hall, Howard Judson, Assistant Professor of English, Stanford University, Cal. Hall, John Lesslie, Professor of the English Language and Literature, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Va. Haller, William, Assistant Professor of English, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Halley, Albert Roberts, Assistant Professor of English, University of Florida, Gainesville, Fla. [1135 W. Union St.] Ham, Roscoe James, George Taylor Files Professor of Modem Languages, Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Me. Ham, Roswell Gray, Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [63 Clifford St., Whitneyville, Conn.] Hamilton, George Livingstone, Professor of Romance Languages, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [316 Fall Creek Drive] Hamilton, Irene, Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [2210 Parkway, Wilmington, Del.] Hamilton, Mabel W., Instructor in Romance Languages, Marietta College, Marietta, O. Hamilton, Theodore Ely, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. Hammer, Christine, Instructor in English, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Hammond, Blanche Ross (Mrs. C. N.), Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [2304 N. 18th St.] Handschin, Charles Hart, Professor of German, Miami University, Oxford, 0. Haney, John Louis, President and Professor of English Philology, Central High School, Philadelphia, Pa. Hanford, James Holly, Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1024 Church St.] Hanscom, Elizabeth Deering, Professor of English, Smith College, North­ ampton, Mass. [26 Franklin St.] Hanson, Alice M., Instructor in French, Central High School, Grand Forks N. D. [2514 Emerson Ave. S., Minneapolis, Minn.] Harbarger, Sada Annis, Instructor in English, Ohio State University, Colum­ bus, O. Harbeson, William Page, Assistant Professor of the English Language and Literature, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] Hardy, Ashley Kingsley, Professor of German and Instructor in Old English, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Harlan, Mabel Margaret, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Indiana Univer­ sity, Bloomington, Ind. [828 E. 3rd St.] Harmanson, Mrs. Sallie T. M., Associate Professor of Romance Languages and German, Randolph-Macon Woman’s College, Lynchburg, Va. Ham, Edith Muriel, Associate Professor of Modem Languages, Agnes Scott College, Decatur, Ga. Harper, George McLean, Professor of English, Princeton University, Prince­ ton, N. J. Harris, Alexander Logan, Professor of Modem Languages and Literatures, Hobart and William Smith Colleges, Geneva, N. Y. Harris, Charles, Professor of German, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. [2466 Kenilworth Road, Euclid Heights] Harris, Lynn H., President of Beaver College, Beaver, Pa. Harrison, John Smith, Professor, and Head of the Department of English, Butler College, Indianapolis, Ind. [347 N. Audubon Rd.] Hart, Anne Beryl Griffin, Assistant Professor of English, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. Hart, Walter Morris, Professor of English and Dean of the Summer Ses­ sions, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2255 Piedmont Ave.] Hartman, Anabel Eugenia, Assistant in English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [1201 California St.] Harvey, Edward L6on, Professor of English and Modem History, Univer­ sity of New Brunswick, Fredericton, N. B. [14 Waterloo Row] Harvitt, Helene, Instructor in French, Teachers’ College, Columbia Uni­ versity, New York, N. Y. [1309 Carroll St., Brooklyn] Harwell, Robert Ritchie, Professor of Greek and Instructor in German, Austin College, Sherman, Tex. [923 Grand Ave.] Hastings, George Everett, Associate Professor of English, University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, Ark. [346 Arkansas Ave.] Hastings, Harry Worthington, Professor of English, New York State College for Teachers, Albany, N. Y. Hastings, Walter Scott, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. Hastings, William Thomson, Assistant Professor of English, Brown Univer­ sity, Providence, R. I. Hatfield, James Taet, Professor of the German Language and Literature, Northwestern University, Evanston, Hl. Hatheway, Joel, Chief Examiner, School Committee, Boston, Mass. [IS Beacon St.] Hauch, Edward F., Professor of German Language and Literature, Hamilton College, Clinton, N. Y. Havens, George R., Professor of Romance Languages, Ohio State Univer­ sity, Columbus, O. Havens, Raymond Dexter, Professor of English, University of Rochester, Rochester, N. Y. Haviland, Thomas P., Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] Haxo, Henry E., Professor of Romance Languages, University of North Dakota, University Station, N. D. Hayden, Philip Meserve, Assistant Secretary, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Hayes, Flora Mabel, Instructor in English and Public Speaking, Culver- Stockton College, Canton, Mo. Hayes, James Juvenal, Professor of English Literature, Morningside Col­ lege, Sioux City, la. [1416 S. St. Aubin St.] Hayes, William Solomon, Instructor in Romance Languages and Literature, Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, N. Y. [63 First St.] Haymaker, Catherine Lois, Professor of Spanish, Adelphi College, Brooklyn, N. Y. [12 Clifton Place] Haynes, Randolph Arnold, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Texas, Austin Tex. [2600 Guadelupe St.] Hazleton, Sidney Channing, Assistant Professor of Physical Education and Instructor in French, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. [7 Dana Road] Hearsey, Margerite, C., Instructor in English, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Heaton, Harry Clifton, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, New York University, New York N. Y. [University Heights] Hebei, John William, Assistant Professor of English, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [339 Goldwin Smith HaU] Heffner, R. Merrill Secrist, Instructor in German, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [130 Oxford St.] Heidbrink, Frederick Henry, Henry Holt & Co., College Dept., New York City. [19 W. 44th St.] Heller, Edmund Kurt, Instructor in German, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. [2314 Dwight Way] Heller, Otto, Professor of German and Modem European Literature, Wash­ ington University, St. Louis, Mo. Helmholz-Phelan, Mrs. Anna Augusta, Assistant Professor of English, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Hemingway, Samuel Burdett, Assistant Professor of English, Yale Univer­ sity, New Haven, Conn. [42 Lincoln St.] Hemke, Marie D., Instructor in English, Southern Methodist University, Dallas, Tex. Hemry, Frederick Squire, Head of Department of Modem Languages, The Tome School, Port Deposit, Md. Hench, Atcheson L., Associate Professor of English, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Va. [37 University Place] Henderson, W. B. Drayton, Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [211 Yale Station] Hendricks, Walter, Instructor in English, Armour Institute of Technology, Chicago, Ill. Hendrix, William Samuel, Professor of Romance Languages, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. Henin, Benjamin L. A., Instructor in Modem Languages, Stuyvesant Scientific High School, 345 E. 15th St., New York, N. Y. Henning, George Neely, Professor of Romance Languages and Dean of Graduate Studies, George Washington University, Washington, D. C. Henriquez-Urena, Pedro, Professor, Universidad Nacional de Mexico, Mexico City, Mexico. [Rectoria] Henry, Mellinger Edward, Teacher of English, Dickinson High School, Jersey City, N. J. Hepburn, William McG., Acting Instructor in Romance Languages, In­ diana University, Bloomington, Ind. [203 Forest Place] Herold, Amos Lee, Professor of English Literature and Head of Depart­ ment of English, Bucknell University, Lewisburg, Pa. Herrington, Hunley Whatley, Professor of English, Syracuse University, Syracuse, N. Y. Herrmann, Alfred, Instructor in German, Extension Division, Columbia University, New York City, [234 East 72nd St.] Hersey, Frank Wilson Cheney, Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [45 Oxford St.] Hershey, Phares Robert, Instructor in Spanish, Purdue University, Lafay­ ette, Ind. [414 N. 11th St.] Herzberg, Max J., Head of the English Department, Central High School, Newark, N. J. Hespelt, Ernest Herman, Professor of Spanish, Elmira College, Elmira, N. Y. [922 W. Gray St.] Hessler, L. Burtron, Educational Department, Scribners Sons, 1107 7th St., S. E., Minneapolis, Minn. Heuser, Frederick W. J., Assistant Professor of the Germanic Languages and Literatures, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Heusinkveld, Arthur Helenus, Instructor in English, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [319 N. Capitol St.] Hewitt, Frank L., Assistant Professor of English, Dartmouth College, Han­ over, N. H. [Graduate Club.] Hewitt, Thedore Brown, Professor and Head of the Department of German, University of Buffalo, Buffalo, N. Y. Hibbard, Clarence Addison, Associate Professor of English, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Hibbard, Laura Alandis, Associate Professor of English Literature, Welles­ ley College, Wellesley, Mass. Hicks, R. Keith, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Queen’s Uni­ versity, Kingston, Ont. Hier, Florence, Instructor in Romance Languages, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. [1330 Forsythe Ave.] Hill, Edith A., Professor of Modern Languages, University of Redlands, Redlands, Cal. [14 Clifton Ave.] Hill, Herbert Wynford, Professor and Head of the Department of English, University of Nevada, Reno, Nev. Hill, John M., Professor of Spanish, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [317 E. 2nd St.] Hill, Raymond Thompson, Assistant Professor of French, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [902 Memorial Quadrangle] Hillebrand, Harold N., Assistant Professor of English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [1108 W. Oregon St.] Hillhouse, James T., Assistant Professor of English, University of Minne­ sota, Minneapolis, Minn. [112 Church St. S. E.] Hills, Elijah Clarence, Profe. sor of Romance Languages, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. [2524 Benvenue Ave.] Himmer, William Conrad, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Wor­ cester Polytechnic Institute, Worcester, Mass. Hinchman, Walter S., Groton, Mass. Hinckley, Henry Barrett, New Haven, Conn. [391 Temple St.] Hinsdale, Ellen C., Professor of the German Language and Literature, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass. Hinton, James, Professor of English, Emory University, Emory University, Ga. Hochdoerfer, K. F. Richard, 792 14th St., Boulder, Colo. Hodder, Mrs. Alfred, Princeton, N. J. [341 Nassau St.] Hodges, John Cunyus, Professor of English, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, Tenn. [2600 Jefferson Ave.] Hoffman, Benjamin Franklin, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. [116 College Ave.] Hoffmann, Hedwig Herta, Head of the Department of Romance Languages, Guilford College, Guilford, N. C. Hoffman-Mahy, Rodolphe O., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Montana, Missoula, Mont. [Faculty Exchange] Hohlfeld, Alexander R., Professor of German, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Holbrook, Richard Thayer, Senior Professor of French, Chairman of the Department of French, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [Facul­ ty Club] Holland, Thomas Scott, Adjunct Professor of Romance Languages, Univer­ sity of Georgia, Athens, Ga. [P. O. Box 102] Hollander, Lee M., Instructor in German, University of Texas, Austin, Texas. [3204 West Ave.] Hollowell, Bennett M., Professor of English, Nebraska Wesleyan University, University Place, Neb. Holt, Josephine W., City Supervisor of Foreign Languages, Richmond, Va. [3300 Patterson Ave.] Holzknecht, Karl S., Assistant Professor of English, University of Louis­ ville, Louisville, Ky. [119 West Broadway] Hood, Thurman Los, Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [Warren House] Hoover, Merle M., Instructor in English, Department of University Extension, Columbia University, New York City. Hopkins, Annette Brown, Professor of English, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. Hopkins, Edwin Mortimer, Professor of Rhetoric and the English Lan­ guage, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [1234 Mississippi St.] Hornicek, John, Instructor in French, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1867 Yale Station] Horsfield, Margaret B., Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Kentucky, Lexington, Ky. Hoskins, Gordon V., Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] Hoskins, John Preston, Professor of the Germanic Languages and Litera­ tures, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [10 College Road] Host, Arthur George, Head of Modern Language Department, Troy High School, Troy, N. Y. [10 Warren Ave.] Hotson, John Leslie, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [13 Hilliard St.] House, Ralph Emerson, Professor of Spanish, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. House, Roy Temple, Professor and Head of the Department of Modem Languages, State University of Oklahoma, Norman, Okla. [317W. Eufaula St.] Houston, Maiy E., Head of the French Department, Sullins College, Bristol, Va. Houston, Percy Hazen, Assistant Professor of English, University of Cali­ fornia, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Calif. Howard, George Parker, Head of Spanish and French Department, The Morristown School, Morristown, N. J. Howard, William Guild, Professor of German, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [91 Garden St.] Howe, Barbara Murray, Instructor in English, Simmons College, Boston, Mass. [Fairmont Ave., Hyde Park] Howe, George Maxwell, Instructor in German, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. 75 Fayerweather St.] Howe, Will David, Editor, Charles Scribner’s Sons, 597 Fifth Ave., New York City. Howell, Almonte C., Instructor in English, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Hrbkova, S&rka B., Manager Czecho-Slovak Bureau, Foreign Language Information Service, 119 W. 41st St., New York, N. Y. Hubbard, Frank Gaylord, Professor of English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [141 W. Gilman St.] Hubbard, Grace A., Associate Professor of English, Barnard College, Co­ lumbia University, New York City. Hubbard, Lucius Lee, Regent, University of Michigan. [Houghton, Mich.] Hubbell, Jay Broadus, Professor of English, Southern Methodist Univer­ sity, Dallas, Tex. Hubbell, Minor Carleton, Head of Modern Foreign Language Department, Culver Military Academy, Culver, Ind. Hubert, Merton Jerome, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Uni­ versity of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. Hubman, Sophia A., Instructor in German, University High School, Minne­ apolis, Minn. Hudson, Dorothy Rose, Assistant Instructor in English, University of Min­ nesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [2120 Lake of the Isles Blvd.] Hudson, Hoyt H., Instructor in Public Speaking, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [408 Dryden Road] Hughes, Mrs. Charlotte Conde, Tutor in Romance Languages and Litera­ tures, Grand Rapids, Mich. [20 N. College Ave.] Hughes, Helen Sard, Associate Professor of English, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. [597 Washington St.] Hughes, Merritt Y., Assistant Professor of English, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. Hulbert, James Root, Associate Professor of English, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [Faculty Exchange] Hull, Vemam Edward, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [29 Randolph Hall] Hulme, William Henry, Professor of English, College for Women, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. [11420 Hessler Road] Humphreys, Harold Llewelyn, Instructor in French, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [212 Faculty Exchange] Humphreys, Wilber Ray, Associate Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1435 Cambridge Road] Hundley, Frances Shelton, Adjunct Professor of English, Randolph-Macon Woman’s College, Lynchburg, Va. [100 Banbury Road, Oxford, England] Hunkins, Charles H., Associate Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures, Brown University, Providence, R. I. Hunt, Percival, Head of the Department of English, University of Pitts­ burgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. Hunt, Theodore Whitfield, Professor Emeritus of English, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. Hunter, Kenneth B., Instructor in English, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [1264 Knapp Place, St. Paul, Minn.] Hurlburt, Albert Francis, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [Box 26, College Hall] Huse, William Woodman, Jr., Instructor in English, Princeton University, [Box 161, Princeton, N. J.] Hustvedt, Sigurd Bernhard, Assistant Professor of English, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Calif. Hutchins, Henry Clinton, Ethical Culture School, New York, N. Y. [106 E. 85th St.] Hutsinpillar, Neil Charles, Wabash College, Crawfordsville, Ind. Hyde, James Hazen, Paris XVIe, France. [67 Boulevard Lannes] Ichikawa, Sanki, Professor of the English Language and Literature’ Imperial University of Tokio, Tokio, Japan. Imbert, Louis, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [508 Hamilton Hall] Jack, William Shaffer, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [1926 Diamond St.] Jackson, Jess Hamilton, Assistant in English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [269 Huron Ave.] Jackson, Margaret Hastings, Professor of the Italian Language and Litera­ ture, Wellesley College, WeUesley, Mass. [Claflin Hall] Jacob, Cary Franklin, Professor of English Literature, College of William and Mary, Williamsburg, Va. [Box 111] Jacobs, Ida T., Head of English Department, West High School, Des Moines, la. [732 West 18th St.] von Jagemann, H. C. G., Professor of Germanic Philology, Harvard Univer­ sity, Cambridge, Mass. [113 Walker St.] de Jaive, Edmond M., Professor of Modem Languages and Head of the Department of Spanish, Gulf Park College, Gulfport, Miss. [3709 11th St.] Jameson, Raymond D., Instructor in EngUsh, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [Faculty Exchange] Jameson, Russell Parsons, Professor and Head of the Department of Romanic Languages, Oberlin College, Oberlin, O. [162 S. Cedar Ave.] Janneret, Francois C. A., Associate Professor of French, University of Toronto Toronto, Can. Jenkins, Raymond, Instructor in EngUsh, New York University, New York, N. Y. [2296 Andrews Ave., University Heights] Jenkins, T. Atkinson, Professor of the History of the French Language, University of Chicago, Chicago, IU. [5411 Greenwood Ave.] Jenney, Florence Gertrude, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, RusseU Sage College, Troy, N. Y. Jensen, Gerard Edward, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, Connecticut Col­ lege, New London, Conn. [51 Hall Ave.] Jente, Richard, Assistant Professor of German, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. Jesse, BredeUe, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. [810 Hillcrest Ave.] Johnson, Carl Wilhelm, Assistant Professor of German, Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. Johnson, Edna, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, Indiana University, Bloom­ ington, Ind. [213 S. Dunn St.] Johnson, Elizabeth F., Head of Modem Language Department, Winthrop College, Rock Hill, S. C. Johnson, Herman Patrick, Associate Professor of English Literature, University of Virginia, University, Va. [Box 164] Johnson, WilUam Savage, Professor of English Literature, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [1730 Indiana St.] Johnston, Oliver Martin, Professor of Romanic Languages, Leland Stan­ ford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal. Jonas, Joseph Theodore, Professor of English and Latin, St. Joseph’s College High School, Philadelphia, Pa. [9122 Wayne Ave., Bywood, Pa ] Jones, Cecil Knight, Assistant Professor of Spanish, George Washington University, Washington, D. C. [Library of Congress] Jones, Frederick Mason, Associate Professor of Romanic Languages, Col­ gate University, Hamilton, N. Y. [P.O.Box944] (Onleave; Grenoble, France) Jones, Harry Stuart Vedder, Associate Professor of English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Jones, Howard Mumford, Associate Professor of Comparative Literature, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. Jones, John Langdon, Instructor in French, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [“Langhurst,” Roxborough] Jones, Maro Beath, Professor of Romance Languages, Pomona College, Claremont, Calif. Jones, Raymond Watson, Assistant Professor of German, Dartmouth Col­ lege, Hanover, N. H. Jones, Richard Foster, Associate Professor of English, Washington Univer­ sity, St. Louis, Mo. Jones, Virgil Laurens, Professor of English, University of Arkansas, Fayette­ ville, Ark. [728 W. Maple St.] Jones, William Bristow, Head of Department of English, Georgetown Col­ lege, Georgetown, Ky. [Hollyhock Lane.] Jordan, Arthur Carl, Teacher of Languages, Frankford High School, Philadelphia, Pa. Jordan, John Clark, Professor of English and Public Speaking, University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, Ark. Jordan, Mary Augusta, Professor Emeritus of the English Language and Literature, Smith College. [21 Phillips St., Andover, Mass.] Joyce, Hewette Elwell, Assistant Professor of English, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. [23 N. Main St.] Judson, Adexander Corbin, Professor of English, Indiana University, Bloom­ ington, Ind. [523 East Third St.] Judy, Clinton K., Professor of English, California Institute of Technology, Pasadena, Cal. Kamman, William F., Assistant Professor of Modern Languages, Carnegie Institute of Technology, Pittsburgh, Pa. [5 Roselawn Terrace] Kanthlener, Henry F., Professor of Romance Languages, Morningside College, Sioux City, Iowa. Kany, Charles Emil, Instructor in Spanish, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2304 Telegraph Ave.] Kaufman, Paul, Professor of English Literature, American University, Washington, D. C. [2910 R St. N. W.] Kaun, Alexander, Assistant Professor of Russian, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [1405 LeRoy Ave.] Kaye, Frederick B., Assistant Professor of English, Northwestern Univer­ sity, Evanston, Ill. [1222 Elmwood Ave.] Keefe, Agnes M., Instructor in French, University High School, Minneapo­ lis, Minn. Keegen, John Louis C., Assistant Professor of English, Tufts College, Tufts College, Mass. [45 Sawyer Ave.] Keely, Nora Bean, Instructor in English, Woman’s College, University of Delaware, Newark, Del. Keep, Robert Porter, Principal, Miss Porter’s School, Farmington, Conn. Keidel, George Charles, Library of Congress, Washington, D. C. Keith, Oscar L., Professor of Romance Languages, University of South Carolina, Columbia, S. C. [711 Bull St.] Keller, May Lansfield, Professor of English and Dean, Westhampton Col­ lege, University of Richmond, Va. Kellogg, Robert James, Professor of Greek and Linguistics, Oklahoma Baptist University, Shawnee, Okla. [645 N. Park St.] Kelly, Edythe Grace, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. Kelly, John Alexander, Assistant Professor of German, Haverford College, Haverford, Pa. Kelso, Ruth, Instructor in English, University of Illinois, Urbana, 111. [1112 W. Illinois St.] Keniston, Ralph Hayward, Professor of Romance Languages and Litera­ ture, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [1 East Ave.] Kennedy, Arthur G., Assistant Professor of English Philology, Leland Stan­ ford University. [1527 Waverley St., Palo Alto, Calif.] Kennedy, Charles William, Professor of English, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [66 Battle Road] Kennedy, Mary Stewart, 96 McDonough St., Brooklyn, N. Y. Kenyon, Herbert Alden, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1103 Ferdon Rd.] Kenyon, John Samuel, Professor of the English Language, Hiram College, Hiram, O. Kern, Alfred Allan, Professor of English, Randolph-Macon Woman’s Col­ lege, Lynchburg, Va. Kerr, James, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Converse College, Spartanburg, S. C. Kessler, James, Associate Professor of French, University of Arkansas, Fayette, Ark. Kettle, Sarah I., State Agricultural College, Fort Collins, Colo. Keyes, Charles Reuben, Alumni Professor of the German Language and Literature, Cornell College, Mount Vernon, la. Kiekhofer, Luella E., Teacher of Romance Languages, Miss Harris’ Tutoring School, Chicago, Ill. [1516 Roscoe St.] Kimball, LeRoy Elwood, Bursar, New York University and Graduate Student in English. [32 Waverly Place, New York City] King, Emma Corin, Professor of English, Baylor College, Belton, Tex. King, James Percival, Professor of German, University of Rochester, Rochester, N. Y. King, Paul Charles, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [412 Oak St. S. E.] Kingsland, (Mrs.) Gertrude Southwick, Professor of English Literature and Dean of Women, Ripon College, Ripon Wis. [621 Ransom St.] Kinney, Muriel, Principal, Margaret Hall, Versailles, Ky. Kip, Herbert Z., Professor of German, Connecticut College for Women New London, Conn. Kirkbride, Raymond W., Assistant Professor of Modem Languages and Foreign Study Representative, University of Delaware, Newark, Del. [6 rue Leneveux, Paris, France] Kitchel, Anna Theresa, Assistant Professor of English, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Kittredge, George Lyman, Professor of English Literature, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [8 Hilliard St.] Kittredge, Rupert Earle Loring, Professor of French, Trinity College, University of Toronto, Toronto, Canada. Klaeber, Frederick, Professor of Comparative and English Philology, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Klein, David, Instructor in English, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Klein, Edna May, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Iowa Wes­ leyan College, Mt. Pleasant, la. [608 So. Marion St., Washington, Iowa] Klein, John F., Associate Professor of Modem Languages, Franklin College, Franklin, Ind. Kleinecke, Mary L., Associate in English, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [6 Nogales St.] von Klenze, Camillo, Professor of the German Language and Literature and Head of the Germanic Dept., College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Kline, Earl Kilbum, Professor of Modem Languages, University of Chat­ tanooga, Chattanooga, Tenn. Klocksiem, Arthur Charles, Assistant Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor Mich. [1109 White St.] Knickerbocker, William Edwin, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, CoUege of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Knickerbocker, William Skinkle, Assistant Professor of English, Head of the Department, New York State CoUege of Forestry at Syracuse Univer­ sity, Syracuse, N. Y. [948 Ackerman Ave.] Knight, Adelaide, Instructor in Spanish, Newcomb College, New Orleans, La. (on leave). [104 15th Ave., Columbus, O.] Knoepfler, John Baptist, Professor and Head of the Department of German, Iowa State Teachers’ College, Cedar Falls, la. [2309 Iowa St.] Knott, Thomas Albert, Professor of English, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [412 S. Governor St.] Knowlton, A. Heywood, Instructor in French, Dartmouth College, Han­ over, N. H. [13 W. Wheelock St.] Knowlton, Edgar Colby, Associate Professor of English, Ohio Wesleyan University, Delaware, 0. [Ill Montrose Ave.] Knox, Guy Mortimer, Head of French Department, Piedmont High School, Piedmont, Calif. Kobayashi, Atsuo, Professor of English, Imperial University of Tdhoku, Sendai, Japan. [72 Blenheim Garden, Willesden Green, London, N. W. 2, England] Koch, Frederick Henry, Professor of Dramatic Literature, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Kolbe, Parke Rexford, President, Municipal University of Akron, Akron, O. Koller, Armin Hajman, Assistant Professor of German, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [1110 S. 3d St., Champaign, Ill.] Korth, Frances Phelps, (Mrs. Arthur A.), New York City. [1050 Park Ave.] Kotz, Theodore Franklin, Instructor in Modem Languages, Case School of Applied Science, Cleveland, O. [1561 E. 118th St.] Krapp, George Philip, Professor of English, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Krappe, Alexander Haggerty, Professor of Romance Languages, Flat River Junior College, Flat River, Mo. [Box 902] Kressin, Hugo M., Assistant Professor of Spanish, University of South Dakota, Vermillion, S. D. Kroeh, Charles F., Professor of Modern Languages, Stevens Institute of Technology, Hoboken, N. J. Kroesch, Samuel, Associate Professor of German, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Krowl, Harry C., Associate Professor of English, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Krug, Mrs. Elsie Clark, Instructor in English, Goucher College, Balti­ more, Md. Krumpelmann, John Theodore, Instructor in German, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [33 Conant Hall] Krutch, Joseph Wood, Instructor in English, Polytechnic Institute, Brooklyn, N. Y. [43 Barrow St., New York, N. Y.] Kueny, Francois, J., Associate Professor of French, University of Maine, Orono, Me. Kuhl, Ernest Peter, Professor of English, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. Kuhne, Julius W., Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Miami University, Oxford, O. Kuhns, Oscar, Professor of Romance Languages, Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn. Kullmer, Charles Julius, Professor of German, Syracuse University, Syra­ cuse, N. Y. [505 University Place] Kfimmerle, Katharine, E., Instructor in French and Spanish, Stuyvesant High School, New York City [91 Vernon Ave., Mt. Vernon, N. Y.) Kurath, Hans, Assistant Professor in German, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. [Lunt Library 34] Kurrelmeyer, William, Associate Professor of German, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. [1529 Linden Ave.] Kurtz, Benjamin P., Professor of English, University of California, [59 Santa Clara Ave., Oakland, Cal.] Kurz, Harry, Professor and Head of Department of Romance Languages, Knox College, Galesburg, Hl. Laird, Sarah G., Assistant Professor of English, University of Kansas, Lawrence Kans. [1300 Louisiana St.] Lambert, Mildred E., 5464 Woodlawn Ave., Chicago, Ill. Lambuth, David, Professor of English, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Lancaster, H. Carrington, Professorof French Literature, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Landrd, Louis, Associate Professor of French, Syracuse University, Syra­ cuse, N. Y. [706 Livingston Ave.] Landrum, Grance Warren, Associate Professor of English, University of Richmond, Richmond, Va. Landry, Mrs. Clara Lewis, Instructor in French, Newcomb College, New Orleans, La. Lawdwehr, Margaret, Head of Modem Language Department, Western State College of Colorado, Gunnison, Colo. [Box 291] Lane, Howard Clinton, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [36 Ash St.] Lang, Henry R., Professor Emeritus of Romance Philology, Yale Univer­ sity, New Haven, Conn. [176 Yale Station] Langdon, Ida, Associate Professor of English Literature, Elmira College, Elmira, N.Y. [303 N. Main St.] Lange, Carl Frederick Augustus, Professor of German, Smith College, North­ ampton, Mass. Langlard, Henri, Associate in French, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [634 Hobart St.] Langley, Ernest F., Professor of French, Massachusetts Institute of Tech­ nology, Cambridge, Mass. Langworthy, Charles Albert, Assistant Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1020 Forest Ave.] Lansing, Ruth, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Simmons College, Boston Mass. [53 Crawford St., Roxbury de La Rochelle, Phillippe, Professor of French, Cathedral College; Instruc­ tor in French, Extension Division, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Larsen, Henning, Assistant Professor of English, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. Larsen, William F., Professor of French and Spanish, Crane Junior College, Chicago, Ill. [1315 E. Marquette Road, Jackson Park Station] Larson, Martin A., Assistant Professor of English, Michigan State Normal College, Ypsilanti, Mich. [213 Normal St.] Lathrop, Henry Burrowes, Professor of English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [427 N. Butler St.] Lauer, Edward Henry, Associate Professor of German, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [411 S. Summit St.] Law, Marie Hamilton, Instructor, School of Liberary Science, Drexel Institute, Philadelphia, Pa. [1016 S. 45th St.] Law, Robert Adger, Professor of English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [2614 Salado St.] Lawrence, William Witherle, Professor of English, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Leach, Henry Goddard, 170 E. 64thSt., New York, N.Y. Leach, MacEdward, Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] Learned, Henry Dexter, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Univer­ sity of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Learned, Mary Rebecca, Head of Dept. of Modem Languages, Girls’ High School, Reading, Pa. [416 Green Terrace] Leavenworth, Clarence Eldredge, Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures, Wabash College, Crawfordsville, Ind. Leavitt, Sturgis Elleno, Professor of Spanish, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Lebert; Eugene M., Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Grinnell College, Grinnell, Iowa. Lecompte, Irville Charles, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Le Coq, Jean Pierre, Professor and Head of Department of Romance Languages, Drake University, Des Moines, la. Le Due, Alma de L., Instructor in French, Barnard College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Lee, Alfred O., Associate Professor of Modem Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [814 Hill St.] Lehman, Benjamin Harrison, Associate Professor of English, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. [29 Mosswood Road] Leisy, Ernest Erwin, Professor of English, Illinois Wesleyan University, Bloomington, Ill. Le Lavandier, Marie H., Instructor in French, Vassar College, Poughkeep­ sie, N. Y. Lensner, Herman Julius, Head of Modem Language Department, Glenville High School, Cleveland, O. [1433 Alameda Ave., Lakewood, 0.] Lenz, Rodolfo, Professor of General Linguistics and Spanish Historical Grammar, Institute Pedagogico, Universidad de Chile, Santiago de Chile. [Casilla 844] Leonard, Arthur Newton, Professor of German, Bates College, Lewiston, Me. [12 Abbott St.] Leonard, Sterling Andrus, Assistant Professor of English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [2230 Van Hise Ave.] Leonard, William Ellery, Assistant Professor of English, University of Wis­ consin, Madison, Wis. Lerando, Leon Zelenka, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Lafayette College; Easton, Pa. [MacKean Hall] Lessing, Otto Eduard, Professor of German, Williams College, Williams­ town, Mass. [25 Park St.] Lesslie, Evelyn Starr, Associate in Spanish, Southern Branch of the Univer­ sity of California, Los Angeles, Cal. [1352 Fairfax Ave.] Letessier, Madeleine, Instructor in French, University of California, South­ ern Branch, Los Angeles, Calif. Leuchs, Fritz A. H., Instructor in German, Extension Division, Columbia University, New York City. [600 E. 164th St.] Levengood, Sidney L., Instructor, Department of Modem Languages Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [Graduate College] L6veque, Ernest J., Instructor in French and Spanish, University of Indiana, Bloomington, Ind. [215 Forest Place] Levi, Moritz, Professor of French, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. (On leave.) [c/o American Express Co., 11 Rue Scribe, Paris, France] Lewis, B. Roland, Professor, University of Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah. Lewis, Charles Bertram, Lecturer in French Literature and Romance Philol­ ogy, The University, St. Andrews, Fife, Scotland. Lewis, Charles Lee, Assistant Professor of English and History, U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. [41 Southgate Ave.] Lewis, Edwin Herbert Professor of English, and Dean of the Faculty, Lewis Institute, Madison and Robey Sts., Chicago, Ill. Lewis, Glenn M., Instructor in English, Lake Forest College, Lake Forest, Ill. Lewis, Mary Delia, Associate Professor of the English Language and Litera­ ture, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [34 Kensington Ave.] Leyba, Herman, Curasao, Dutch West Indies. [P. 0. Box 71] Licklider, Albert Harp, Assistant Professor of English Literature, Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. Liddle, A. W., Graduate Student, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [516 University Ave.] Lieder, Frederick William Charles, Assistant Professor of German, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [37 Dana Chambers] Lieder, Paul Robert, Associate Professor of the English Language and Literature, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [Plymouth Inn] Lincoln, George Luther, Instructor in Romance Languages, Harvard Univer­ sity, Cambridge, Mass. [2000 Commonwealth Ave., Boston, Mass.] Lindsay, Julian Ira, Assistant Professor of English, University of Vermont, Burlington, Vt. Lipari, Angelo, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Lister, John Thomas, Professor of Spanish, College of Wooster, Wooster, O. [201 E. Henrietta St.] Little, David Mason, Jr., Assistant in English and Dean of Harvard College, Cambridge, Mass. [14 Craigie St.] Litz, Francis Aloysius, Instructor in English, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Livingston, Charles H., Professor of Romance Languages, Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Me. [17 Federal St.] Lockert, Charles Lacy, Jr., Assistant Professor of English, Kenyon College, Gambier, O. Lockley, Lawrence C., Associate in English, University of California, South­ ern Branch, Los Angeles, Calif. Lockwood, Laura E., Associate Professor of English, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. Loeb, Charlotte, Professor of French, State College for Teachers, Albany, N. Y. Loggins, Vernon G., Instructor in English, New York University, New York, N. Y. [32 Waverley Place] Loiseaux, Louis Auguste, Associate Professor of French, Barnard College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Lomax, John Avery, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. Lome, Catherine Caskey, Graduate Student in German, Columbia Uni­ versity, New York City. [Hamilton, N. Y.] Long, Orie William, Assistant Professor of German, Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. Long, Percy Waldron, 91 Trowbridge St., Cambridge, Mass. Longden, Henry Boyer, Professor of the German Language and Literature, De Pauw University, Greencastle, Ind. Longueil, Assistant Professor of English, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Calif. [4111 Rosewood Ave.] Loomis, Roger Sherman, Lecturer in English, University Extension Division, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [37 West 16th St.] L6pez, Manuel Le6n, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Ohio Wesleyan University, Delaware, Ohio. [106 S. Liberty St.] Lorenz, Charlotte Marie, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Lawrence College, Appleton, Wis. [Ormsby Hall] Lotspeich, Claude Meek, Professor of Comparative Philology, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. Lovejoy, Arthur 0., Professor of Philosophy, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. [827 Park Ave.] Lovell, John Roy, Instructor in French, Syracuse University, Syracuse, N. Y. [1008 E. Adams St.] Lowe, Lawrence Francis Hawkins, Instructor in French, Princeton Univer­ sity, Princeton, N. J. [Graduate College] Lowes, John Livingston, Professor of English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [984 Charles River Road] de Lowther, Mrs. Maria Lopez, Lecturer in Spanish, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Calif. Luebke, William Ferdinand, Professor of English Composition, University of Denver, Denver, Col. [2076 South Fillmore St.] Luker, Benjamin Franklin, Instructor in French, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [915 Sybil St.] Lundeberg, O. K., Instructor in French, University of Minnesota, Minne­ apolis, Minn. [93 Ortin Ave.] Luqiens, Frederick Bliss, Professor of Spanish, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [189 East Rock Road] Lussky, Alfred E., Professor and Head of Department of German, Univer­ sity of Arkansas, Fayetteville, Ark. Lussky, George Frederic, Instructor in German, University of Minnesota, [1233 Carroll Ave., St. Paul, Minn.] Lustrat, Joseph, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Georgia, Athens, Ga. Lyman, William W., St. Helena, Cal. Lynch, Kathleen M., Graduate Student in English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [905 Forest Ave.] Lynch, Samuel Adams, Head of English Department, Iowa State Teachers’ CoUege, Cedar FaUs, la. [421 W. 24th St.] Lynn, Margaret, Professor of EngUsh Literature, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [707 W. 12th St.] Mabbott, Thomas Ollive, Assistant in English, Columbia University, New York City. [14 Fifth Ave.] Macarthur, John Robertson, Associate Professor of Modern Languages, CaUfomia Institute of Technology, Pasadena, CaUf. McCarter, WiUiam HUI, Instructor in English, Dartmouth CoUege, Hanover, N. H. McCleary, Oscar Wood, Instructor in EngUsh, University of Tenneessee, KnoxviUe, Tenn. [712 W. Main St.] McCleUand, George William, Assistant Professor of English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College HaU] MacClintock, Lander, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. MacClintock, William D., Professor of English, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [5629 University Ave.] McClure, Norman Ecbert, Professor of English, Pennsylvania Military College, Chester, Pa. MacCracken, Henry Noble, President of Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. McCullough, Bruce W., Professor of English, University of Chattanooga, Chattannoga, Tenn. McCully, Bruce, Professor of English, Pomona College, Claremont, Calif. McCurdy, Joseph Alexander, Jr., Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. [108 Alumni Hall] McCutcheon, Roger Philip, Professor of English, Wake Forest College, Wake Forest, N. C. MacDonald, Wilbert L., Associate Professor of English, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, B. C. [2446 6th Ave. W.] McFarlane, Ida Kruse, Maty Lowe Dickinson Professor of English, Univer­ sity of Denver, Denver, Colo. McGuire, Thomas A., Instructor in French, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [906 E. Huron St.] McHale, Charles F., Chief Spanish Editor of the International Educa­ tional Publishing Co., Madrid, Spain. [Claudio Coello, 72] McIntyre, Clara Frances, Professor of English, University of Wyoming, Laramie, Wyo. [1001 Custer St.] Mack, Jesse Floyd, Associate Professor of English, Oberlin College, Oberlin, O. [168 E. College St.] Mack, William Harrison, Instructor in English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [813 E. Kingsley Ave.] Mackall, Leonard Leopold, Hon. Member, Georgia Historical Society, Foreign Member, Bibliographical Society of London, c/o Lawton & Cunningham, Savannah, Georgia. McKee, Wilbur Waylor, Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] McKeehan, Irene P., Associate Professor of English, University of English, University of Colorado, Boulder, Colo. MacKellar, Walter, Blauvelt, N. Y. Mackensen, Paul J., Professor of the German Language and Literature, Capital University, Columbus, O. [772 Pleasant Ridge Ave.] McKenzie, Kenneth, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Mackenzie, William Roy, Professor of English, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. McKibben, George Fitch, Professor of Romance Languages, Emeritus, Denison University. [2033 Calvin Cliff, W. H., Cincinnati, O.] McKillop, Alan Dugald, Instructor in English, The Rice Institute, Houston, Tex. Mackimmie, Alexander Anderson, Professor of French, Massachusetts Agricultural College, North Amherst, Mass. McKnight, George Harley, Professor of English, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. McLaughlin, William Aloysius, Associate Professor of French, University of Michigan, Arm Arbor, Mich. [1116 Ferdon Road] McLean, Charlotte Frelinghuysen, Teacher of Latin and English, Mrs. Don’s School, Briarcliff Manor, N. Y. McLeod, Malcolm, Professor and Head of Department of English, Carnegie Institute of Technology, Pittsburgh, Pa. Macleod, William Robert, Graduate Student in English, Harvard Univer­ sity. [303 E. 206th St., New York City] McLucas, John Sherwood, Professor of English, University of Colorado, Boulder, Col. [775 14th St.] MacMillan, William D., 3d, Instructor in English, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. McMillen, Olin Wright, Instructor in English, Union Middle School, Can­ ton, China. McMullen, Jennie M., Teaching Fellow in Spanish, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. MacNeal, Charles Stuart, Graduate Student, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [1683 Cambridge St.] MacNeill, Annie Mary, Associate Professor of English, Denison University, Granville, O. McPhee, Marguerite Cameron, Assistant Professor of English, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [The Orlo, 14th and K Sts.] McPheeters, William Emmett, Professor of English Literature, Lawrence College, Appleton, Wis. [443 Alton St.] McSparran, Dorothy, Assistant in English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Hl. [306 S. Lincoln Ave.] MacVeagh, Lincoln, Editorial Director, Henry Holt & Co., 19 W. 44th St., New York City. Madison, Elisa Gertrude, Assistant Professor of English, University of the Philippines, Los Bafios, P. I. Magoun, Francis Peabody, Jr., Cambridge, Mass. [45 Winthrop St.] Malakis, Emile, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College HaU] Mal&ot, Gaston Louis, Professor of Romance Languages, Washington and Jefferson CoUege, Washington, Pa. Mallory, Herbert Samuel, Assistant Professor of Rhetoric, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [Washtenaw Road] Malone, Kemp, Assistant Professor of English, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [215 Folwell Hall] Manchester, Paul Thomas, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn. [Central Apts., Vanderbilt Campus] Mandell, Max S., Instructor in Slavic Languages, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1818 Yale Station] Manly, John Matthews, Professor and Head of the Department of Eng­ lish, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Mann, Albert, Jr., Professor of Romance Languages, Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn. Mann, Elizabeth Lois, Assistant in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Manning, Clarence Augustus, Instructor in Slavonic Languages, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Manning, Helen E., Teacher of French, University Extension Department, Columbia University, New York City. [712 W. Gray St., Elmira, N. Y.] Manser, Ruth Baldock, Lecturer in English, Barnard College, Columbia University, New York City. Manthey-Zorn, Otto, Professor of German, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Mantz, Harold Elmer, Instructor in Romance Languages, Columbia Univer­ sity, New York City. Manwaring, Elizabeth Wheeler, Assistant Professor of English Composition, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. Mapes, Erwin Kempton, Professor of Romance Languages, Cornell College, Mt. Vernon, la. Marden, Charles Carroll, Professor of Spanish, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. Marinoni, Antonio, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Arkan­ sas, Fayetteville, Ark. Marlow, Kyle Fayette, Instructor in French, Grinnell College, Grinnell, la. [1409 Main St.] Marquardt, Carl Eugene, The College Examiner, Associate Professor of French, Pennsylvania State College, State College, Pa. [109 S. Ather­ ton St.] Marsh, George B., Associate in Spanish, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. Marsh, George Linnaeus, Extension Associate Professor of English, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Marshburn, Joseph Hancock, Assistant Professor of English, University of Oklahoma, Norman, Okla. [486 Elm St.] Martin, Henry M., Associate in Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [1118 W. California Ave.] Martin, Olive Kay, Instructor in Romance Languages, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [6 Liberal Arts Building] Martin, Robert Grant, Associate Professor of English. [12 Beacon St., Redlands, Cal.] Marvin, Robert B., First Assistant of the Modem Language Dept., Com­ mercial High School, Brooklyn, N. Y. [826 Marcy Ave.] Mason, James Frederick, Professor of Romance Language and Literatures, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. Matthews, Brander, Professor of Dramatic Literature (English), Colum­ bia University, New York, N. Y. [337 W. 87th St.] Matthews, William Erwart, Instructor in English, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. [216 Jesse Hall] Maxfield, Ezra Kempton, Professor of English Language and Literature, Washington and Jefferson CoUege, Washington, Pa. [500 Locust Ave.] Maxwell, Baldwin, Instructor in English, The Rice Institute, Houston, Tex. Mayfield, George Radford, Associate Professor of German, Vanderbilt University, Nashville, Tenn. Maynadier, Gustavus Howard, Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [Ware HaU] Maynard, WilUam Doty, Instructor in Romance Languages, Dartmouth CoUege, Hanover, N. H. Mead, Gi’bert W., Professor of English, Westminster CoUege, New Wil­ mington, Pa. Mead, Marian, Uppermead, Rathfamham, Skyland, N. C. Mead, WUliam Edward, Professor of the English Language, Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn. Meader, Clarence Linton, Professor of General Linguistics, in charge of instruction in Russian, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1941 Geddes Ave.] Meixell, Louise Granville Henry, Graduate Student in EngUsh, Columbia University, New York City. [540 W. 122nd St.] Melton, Wightman Fletcher, Senior Professor of EngUsh, Emory University, Ga. MendenhaU, John C., Assistant Professor of EngUsh, University of Penn­ sylvania, PhUadelphia, Pa. [CoUege HaU] Menner, Robert James, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [827 Yale Station] Mensel, Ernst Heinrich, Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Smith CoUege, Northampton, Mass. Meras, Albert A., Associate Professor of French, Teachers College, Columbia University, New York City. Miras, Edmond Albert, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Western University, London, Ont. Mercier, Louis Joseph Alexander, Assistant Professor of French, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [7 Trowbridge St.] Meredith, J. A., Instructor in Romanic Languages, University of Pennsyl­ vania, PhUadelphia, Pa. [CoUege HaU] MerriU, LeRoy, Instructor, Kafer House, LawrenceviUe School, Lawrence­ ville, N. J. Merrill, Madre, Instructor in Romance Languages, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [324 S. Fess Ave.] Merrill, R. March, Professor of Romance Languages, Texas Chris­ tian University, Fort Worth, Tex. Merrill, Robert Valentine, Instructor in French, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Merriman, Prudence, Teaching Fellow in the Department of Romance Languages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [621 Sth Ave., S. E.] Merritt, Roland Ellsworth, Professor and Head of Department of English, Iowa Wesleyan College, Mt. Pleasant, la. [310 N. Main St.] Merry, Glenn Newton, Professor and Head of Department of Speech, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. Merten, Horace George, Instructor in English, State College of Washington, Pullman, Wash. Mesick, Jane Louise, Assistant Dean of Simmons College, Boston, Mass. Metcalf, John Calvin, Professor of English Literature, University of Vir­ ginia, University, Va. Metivier, James, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Clark Univer­ sity, Worcester, Mass. [Box 140, Cambridge, Mass. 38] M6tivier, Marguerite, Assistant Professor of French, Wheaton College, Norton, Mass. Metzenthin, Ernst C. P., Instructor in Germanics, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Michaud, Gustave Louis, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1346 Geddes Ave.] Michaud, R6gis, Professor of French, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2820 Garber St.] Miles, Louis Wardlaw, Head Master, The Gilman Country School, Roland Park, Md. Miller, Anna Irene, Assistant Professor of English, Goucher College, Balti­ more, Md. [2006 Mount Royal Terrace] Miller, Charles Roger Donohue, Graduate Student in Romance Languages, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [301 Craigie Hall] Miller, Ernest Carl, Professor of German, Transylvania College, Lexington, Ky. Miller, John R., Assistant Professor of French and Spanish, West Virginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. [563 Front St.] Miller, Meta Helena, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, North Carolina College for Women, Greensboro, N. C, Miller, Haymond Durbin, Rockland Farm, Fallston, Md. Miller, Walther Martin, Instructor in German, Concordia College, Fort Wayne, Ind. [1126 Barr St.] Millikin, Helen Louise, Instructor in English, High School, Atlantic High­ lands, N. J. [419 N. Broom St., Wilmington, Del.] Mills, Laurens Joseph, Instructor in English, Indiana University, Blooming­ ton, Ind. Mindil, Clinton, Instructor in English, New York University, New York City. [University Heights] Mitchell, Robert McBumey, Assistant Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, Brown University, Providence, R. I. [90 Congdon St.] Mitrani, Charles, Instructor in Romance Languages, West Virginia Univer­ sity, Morgantown, W. Va. [Box 266] Moffatt, J. S. Jr., Assistant Professor of English, Washington and Lee University, Lexington, Va. Mohme, Erwin, Theodor, Instructor in German, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Molina, Lorios Felipe, Associate Professor of Spanish, University of Toledo, Toledo, Ohio. Moll, Ernest George, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [16 Wendell St.] Molt, Philip M., Instructor in Modern Languages, U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. Montgomery, Guy, Assistant Professor of English and Assistant Dean of the Summer Session, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. [Ill Shasta St.] Moore, Alexander Parks, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Rochester, Rochester, N. Y. Moore, Clarence King, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Rochester, Rochester, N. Y. Moore, Frank Hale, Instructor in English, University of Wyoming, Laramie, Wyo. Moore, Frederic W., Assistant Professor of English, College of Wooster, Wooster, 0. [360 E. Bowman St.] Moore, Grace Edna, Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsyl­ vania Philadelphia, Pa. Moore, John Brooks, Instructor in English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. Moore, John Robert, Associate Professor of English, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. Moore, Olin Harris, Professor of Romance Languages, Ohio State Univer­ sity, Columbus, O. Moore, Robert Webber, Professor of the German Language and Literature, Colgate University, Hamilton, N. Y. Moore, Samuel, Associate Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1503 Cambridge Road] Moraud, Marcel, Associate Professor of French, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ont. [321 Roehampton Ave.] More, Robert Pattison, Assistant Professor of German, Lehigh University, South Bethlehem, Pa. Morehouse, Andrew Richmond, Graduate Student in Romance Languages, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. Moreno-Lacalle, Julian, Professor and Head of the Department of Spanish, and Dean of the Spanish School, Middlebury College, Middlebury, Vt. Morgan, Bayard Quincy, Associate Professor of German, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [1522 Chandler St.] Morgan, Charlotte E., Instructor in English, Mrs. Randall-Mclver’s Classes (Miss Davidge’s Classes), New York, N. Y. [1173 Bushwick Ave., Brooklyn, N. Y.] Morize, Andre, Assistant Professor of French Literature, Harvard Univer­ sity, Cambridge, Mass. [145 Widener Library] Morley, Christopher, Editorial Staff, N. Y. Evening Post, 20 Vesey St., New York City. Morley, Sylvanus Griswold, Professor of Spanish, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2635 Etna St.] Morrill; Dorothy Isabella, Associate Professor of English, Hood College, Frederick, Md. Morris, Amos Reno, Department of Rhetoric, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [225 N. 7th St.] Morris, George Davis, Professor of French, Indiana University, Blooming­ ton, Ind. [902 E. Third St.] Morris, Helen Muriel, 4800 Drexel Boulevard, Chicago, Ill. Morris, John, Professor of Germanic Languages, University of Georgia, Athens, Ga. Moseley, Thomas Addis Emmet, Professor of Romance Languages, The Virginia Military Institute, Lexington, Va. [50 Parade] Mosher, John Chapin, Instructor in English, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. [2011 Orrington Ave.] Mott, Lewis F., Professor of the English Language and Literature, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Moyse, Charles Ebenezer, Vice-Principal Emeritus and Emeritus Dean of the Faculty of Arts, McGill University, Montreal, Canada. [324 Sherbrooke St., W.] Mukhopadhyay, Rama Prasad, Fellow Calcutta University, Bhowanipur, Calcutta, India. [77 Russa Road, N.] Mulfinger, George Abraham, Professor of English, Heidelberg University, Tiffin, O. Muller, Henri F., Assistant Professor of French, Barnard College, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Muller, Otto, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] Munn, James Buell, Assistant Professor of English, Washington Sq. College, New York University, New York, N. Y. [32 Waverley Place] Mufioz-Penalver, Jose, Foreign Language School of J. T. G., Tokyo, Japan. Murch, Herbert Spencer, Assistant Professor, Preceptor in English, Prince­ ton University, Princeton, N. J. [6 A Holder Hall] Murdock, Kenneth Ballard, Graduate Student in English, Harvard Univer­ sity, Cambridge, Mass. [75 Fayerweather St.] Murray, Chester, Professor of French, Ohio Wesleyan University, Dela­ ware, O. Murray, John Tucker, Assistant Professor of English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [51 Highland St.] Murray, William Henry, Professor of French, Amos Tuck School, Dart­ mouth College, Hanover, N. H. Musser, Paul Howard, Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [832 Wynnewood Road] Muyskens, John Henry, Instructor in French, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1804 Jackson Ave.] Myers, Clara Louise, Professor of English, College for Women, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. Myers, Doris, Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [Sergeant Hall, 120 S. 34th St.] Myrick, Arthur Beckwith, Professor of Romance Languages and Litera­ tures, University of Vermont, Burlington, Vt. [43 S. Prospect St.] Myrick, Kenneth Orne, Instructor in English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [813 E. Kingsley St.] Napier, Frances E., Instructor in English, Lake Forest College, Lake Forest, IU. Nardin, F. Louise, Dean of Women, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, Univer­ sity of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [Lathrop Hall] Nason, Arthur Huntington, Professor of English and Director of the Univer­ sity Press, New York University, Instructor in English, Union Theo­ logical Seminary, New York, N. Y. [P. 0. Box 84, University Heights] Naylor. Louis Hastings, Graduate Student in Romance Languages, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. [Box 394] Neef, Francis J. A., Assistant Professor of German, Dartmouth CoUege, Hanover, N. H. Neer, Imcgene, Instructor in EngUsh, Teachers CoUege, Columbia Univer­ sity, New York City. [525 West 120th St.] Neff, Theodore Lee, Associate Professor of French, University of Chicago, Chicago, III. Neil, Charles Henry, University of Hawaii, Honolulu, T. H. Neilson, William Allan, President of Smith College, Northampton, Mass. Nethercot, Arthur Hobart, Instructor in English, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. [2020 Sherman Ave.] Nettleton, George Henry, Professor of English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [570 Prospect St.J Neuen-Schwander, Elise, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kans. [1324 Louisiana St.] Neumann, Joshua H., Teacher of English, Boys High School, Brooklyn, N. Y. [288 Ryerson St.] Newberry, John Strong, Instructor in English and History, Massachusetts Institute of Technology, Cambridge, Mass. Newcomer, Charles Berry, 1083 27th St., Des Moines, la. Newdick, Robert S., 415 S. Ohio Ave., Columbus, Ohio. Newlin, Claude M., Instructor in English, University of Akron, Akron, O. Newport, Mrs. Clara Price, Professor of German, Swarthmore College, Swarthmore, Pa. Newton, Walter R., Professor of the German Language and Literature, Rutgers College and the University of New Jersey, New Brunswick, N. J. [39 College Ave.] Nichols, Charles Washburn, Assistant Professor of English, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Nichols, Edwin Bryant, Professor of Romance Languages, DePauw Univer­ sity, Greencastle, Ind. [707 E. Seminary St.] Nicolson, Marjorie Hope, Assistant Professor of English, Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. [Box 284] Ninde, George Falley, Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsyl­ vania. [336 W. Miner St., Westchester, Pa.] Nitchie, Elizabeth, Assistant Professor of English, Goucher College, Balti­ more, Md. Nitze, William Albert, Professor and Head of the Department of Romance Languages, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [1220 E. 56th St.] Noble, Charles, Professor Emeritus of English, Grinnell College, Grin­ nell, la. [1110 West St.] Nolle, Alfred Henry, Professor of Modem Languages and Dean of the Faculty, Southwest Texas State Normal College, San Marcos, Tex. Nollen, John S., Dean and Professor of Romance Literature, Grinnell College, Grinnell, la. Norman, Hilda Laura, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Norris, Walter Blake, Associate Professor of English, U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. [Wardour] Northrop, George Norton, Headmaster, The Brearley School, 60 E. 61st St., New York, N. Y. Northup, Clark Sutherland, Professor of English, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [407 Elmwood Ave.] Northup, George Tyler, Professor of Spanish Literature, University of Chicago, Chicago, III. Norton, Winifred Quincy, Instructor in English Literature, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass. Noss, Mary Theodora, Professor of French, Ohio University, Athens, O. [48 University Terrace] Noyes, Atherton, Instructor in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [134 Brattle St.] Noyes, Edward Simpson, Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn, [755 Orange St.] Noyes, George Rapall, Professor of Slavic Languages, University of Califor­ nia, Berkeley, Cal. [1434 Greenwood Terrace] Noyes, Helen M., Instructor in English, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [54 Prospect St.] Nugent, Homer Heath, Assistant Professor of English, Rensselaer Poly­ technic Institute, Troy, N. Y. Nunemaker, J. Horace, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Denison University, Granville, O. Nykerk, John Bemardes, Professor of English Language and Literature, Hope College, Holland, Mich. Nykl, Alois Richard, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, North­ western University, Evanston, Ill. [720 Foster St.] Ober, Caroline Haven, Professor of Spanish, University of Washington, Seattle, Wash. O’Conor, Norreys Jephson, Associate Professor of English Literature, Mt. Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass. Odebrecht, August, Associate Professor of Modem Languages, Denison University, Granville, O. [Box 365] Odell, George C. D., Professor of English, Columbia University, New York N. Y. Odell, Ruth, Instructor in English, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [Station A.] Ogden, Phillip, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. O’Leary, Raphael Dorman, Professor of English, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [1106 Louisiana St.] Oliver, Thomas Edward, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [1004 W. California Ave.] Olivieri, Umberto, 2808 Garber St., Berkeley, Cal. Olmsted, Everett Ward, Professor and Head of the Department of Romance Languages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [2727 Lake of the Isles Blvd.] Orbeck, Anders, Instructor in English, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [736 West 173rd St.] Ortega, Joaquin, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [The University Club] Osborne, James Insley, Professor of the English Language and Literature, Wabash CoUege, CrawfordsvUle, Ind. Osgood, Charles Grosvenor, Professor of English, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [92 Stockton St.] Osina, Jose M., Associate Professor of Hispanic Languages and Literatures, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kan. [1700 Louisiana St.] Osthaus, Carl Wilhelm Ferdinand, Professor of German, Indiana Univer­ sity, Bloomington, Ind. [417 S. Fess Ave.] O’Sullivan, Mary Isabel, Graduate Student in EngUsh, Bryn Mawr CoUege, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Otis, WiUiam Bradley, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, CoUege of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. [504 W. 112th St.] Ott, John Henry, Professor of the English Language and Literature, North­ western CoUege, Watertown, Wis. Owen, Arthur LesUe, Professor of Spanish, Chairman of the Department of Hispanic Languages and Literatures, University of Kansas, Law­ rence, Kas. [1702 Massachusetts St.] Owen, Daniel Edward, Assistant Professor of English, University of Penn­ sylvania, PhUadelphia, Pa. [322 S. 43d St.] Owen, Edward Thomas, Professor Emeritus of French and Linguistics, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [614 State St.] Owen, Ralph Woodland, Eau Claire, Wis. [1501 State St,.] Owens, James Newton, Professor of Modem Languages, Oklahoma Baptist University, Shawnee, Okla. Padelford, Frederick Morgan, Professor of EngUsh, University of Washing­ ton, Seattle, Wash. [University Station] Padfn, Jose, Spanish Editor in charge of Latin-American Department, D. C. Heath & Co., 231-241 W. 39th St., New York, N. Y. Page, Curtis Hidden, Professor of the English Language and Literature, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Paine, Donald Arthur, Head of the Spanish Department, Lakewood High School, Lakewood, Cleveland, O. Paine, Henry GaUup, Treasurer, Simplified Spelling Board, New York, N. Y. [56 Prospect Place, Brooklyn, N. Y.] Palfrey, Thomas Rossman, Instructor in Romance Languages, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [825 E. Hunter St.] Palmblad, Harry Victor Emmanuel, Professor of the French Language and Literature, PhiUips University, Enid, Okla. Palmer, Earle Fenton, Associate Professor of English, CoUege of the City of New York, N. Y. [828 St. Nicholas Ave.] Palmer, PhUip Mason, Professor of German, Lehigh University, South Bethlehem, Pa. Panaroni, Alfred G., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, CoUege of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Pancoast, Henry Spaceman, Chestnut Hill, Philadelphia, Pa. [Spring Lane] Pardee, Charlotte C., Instructor in French and English, North Adams High School, North Adams, Mass. [392 Church St.] Pargment, Michael S., Instructor in French, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1140 Forest Ave.] Parisi, Vincent G., Instructor in Romance Languages, College of Liberal Arts, Boston University, Boston, Mass. [688 Boylston St.] Park, Clyde William, Professor of English, College of Engineering and Commerce, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. Parker, Eugene Fred, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Univer­ sity of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Parker, Roscoe E., Secretary of the Committee on Subject A, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2905 Dwight Way] Parks, George B., Instructor in English, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. Parmenter, Clarence Edward, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Chicago, Chicago, DI. Parrott, Thomas Marc, Professor of English, Princeton University, Prince­ ton, N. J. Parry, John Jay, Associate in English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [301 University Hall] Passarelli, Luigi A., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Arkansas, Fayetteville, Ark. Patch, Howard Rollin, Associate Professor of English, Smith College, North­ ampton, Mass. [4 Barrett Place] Paton, Lucy Allen, c/o Morgan, Harjes & Co., 14 Place Venddme, Paris, France. Patrick, George Zinorei, Assistant Professor of French and Russian, Univer­ sity of California, Berkeley, Calif. [Faculty Club] Patterson, Arthur Sayles, Professor of French, Syracuse University, Syra­ cuse, N. Y. [415 University Place] Patterson, Frank Allen, Associate Professor of English, Columbia Univer­ sity, New York, N. Y. Patterson, Shirley Gale, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Dart­ mouth College, Hanover, N. H. Patton, Julia, Professor of English, Russell Sage College, Troy, N. Y. Paul, Harry Gilbert, Professor of the Teaching of English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [713 W. Oregon St.] Paxton, Jessie Kirkland, Santa Anna, Cal. [121 S. Ross St.] Payette, Charles Theodore, Teacher of French, Teachers College, Madison, S. D. [P. O. Box 589] Payne, Leonidas Warren, Jr., Professor of English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [2104 Pearl St.] Pearson, Alfred John, Professor and Head of Department of German, Drake University, Des Moines, la. [2841 Brattleboro Ave.] Peck, Walter Edwin, Professor of English, College of Wooster, Wooster, O. [521 N. Buckeye St.] Peebles, Rose Jeffries, Associate Professor of English, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Pekary, Charlotte Helen, Instructor in German, New York University (Washington Square College), New York City. Pelissier, Adeline, Associate Professor of French, Goucher College, Balti­ more, Md. [2000 Mt. Royal Terrace] Pellet, Eleanor J., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Carleton College, Northfield, Minn. Pendleton, Charles Sutphin, Professor of the Teaching of English, George Peabody College for Teachers, Nashville, Tenn. Penniman, Josiah Haemar, Vice-Provost, Professor of English Literature, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [4326 Sansom St.] Percival, Milton, Assistant Professor of English, Ohio State University, Columbus, 0. Perkins, Mary Hallowell, Professor of English, University of Oregon, Eugene, Ore. Perkins, Ruth, Professor of German, Wilson College, Chambersburg, Pa. Perrin, Marshall Livingston, Professor of Germanic Languages, Boston University, Boston, Mass. [688 Boylston St.] Perry, Aaron J., Assistant Professor of English, University of Manitoba, Winnipeg, Canada. Perry, Bliss, Professor of English Literature, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [5 Clement Circle] Perry, Frances Melville, Professor of Composition and Rhetoric, University of Arizona, Tucson, Ariz. Perry, Henry Ten Eyck, Assistant Professor of English, Yale University New Haven, Conn. [1812 Yale Station] Perry, Wilbur Dow, Professor of English, Birmingham-Southern College, Birmingham, Ala. Peters, Walter August, Instructor in English, Pomona College, Claremont, Cal. [6910 Madison Ave. N. W7., Cleveland, O.] Peterson, Frederick William, Instructor in Rhetoric, University of Michigan Ann Arbor, Mich. [1610 Washtenaw Ave], Peterson, Roy Merle, Professor of Spanish and Italian, University of Maine, Orono, Me. Pettengill, Ray Waldron, Professor of Latin and German, Head of Language Department, Skidmore College, Saratoga Springs, N. Y. Pettigrew, Bessie, 203 Broad Ave., Flandreau, S. D. Phelps, Ruth Shepard, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Univer­ sity of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Phelps, William Lyon, Professor of English Literature, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Phillipp, Louis Samuel, Chief of Department of German, Georgetown Col­ lege, Georgetown, Ky. Philpott, Grace M., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [415 Park Ave.] Phinney, Chester Squire, Preceptor of Modem Languages, Culver Academy, Culver, Ind. Pierce, Frederick Erastus, Assistant Professor of English, Sheffield Scientific School, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. de Pierpont, Arthur, Head of the Department of Romance Languages, Rensselaer Polytechnic Institute, Troy, N. Y. Place, Edwin B., Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of Colorado, Boulder, Col. [876 15th St.] Plimpton, George A., Ginn & Co., 70 Fifth Ave., New York, N. Y. Poll, Max, Professor of German, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, Ohio. Pollock, Christina Mina, Instructor in French, High School, Fargo, N. D. [210 8th St. S.] Pope, Paul Russel, Professor of German, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. Porter, Katherine Harriet, Instructor in English, College for Women, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. Porterfield, Allen Wilson, Professor of German, Randolph-Macon Woman’s College, Lynchburg, Va. Potter, Albert Knight, Professor of English, Brown University, Providence, R. I. [212 Waterman St.] Potter, George Reuben, Instructor in English, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. [Graduate Club] Potts, Abbie Findlay, Instructor in English, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Pound, Louise, Professor of the English Language, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [1632 L St.] Powell, Chilton Latham, Associate Professor of English, Amherst CoUege, Amherst, Mass. PoweU, Nellie Virginia, Associate Professor of English, Randolph-Macon Woman’s CoUege, Lynchburg, Va. Prenez, Blanche, Instructor in French, Barnard CoUege, Secretary of the Maison Franjaise, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [411 W. 117th St.] Preston, Ethel, French Department, University High School, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [2320 Indiana Ave.] Prettyman, CorneUus WiUiam, Professor of German, Dickinson CoUege, Carlisle, Pa. Price, Lawrence, M., Assistant Professor of German, University of Califor­ nia, Berkeley, Cal. [2404 Cedar St.] Priest, George Madison, Professor of Germanic Languages and Liter­ atures, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. Prodoehl, Austin, Professor and Head of Department of Modem Languages, Birmingham-Southern College, Birmingham, Ala. Prokosch, Eduard, Associate Professor of German, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. Protzman, Merle I., Instructor in Romance Languages, George Washington University, Washington, D. C. Provost, Antonio J., Professor of Romance Languages and French Liter­ ature, University of Denver, Denver, Colo. [University Park] Pugh, Anne R., Professor of French, Wells College, Aurora-on-Cayuga, N. Y. Pugh, William Leonard, Professor of English, Wofford College, Spartan­ burg, S. C. [141 College Place] Pumpelly, Laurence, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages and Liter­ atures, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. Purcell, Margaret A., World Book Co., Yonkers, N. Y. Purin, Charles Maltador, Lecturer in German, Hunter College, New York City. [68th St. and Lexington Ave.] Pyre, James Francis Augustin, Professor of English, University of Wiscon­ sin, Madison, Wis. Quick, Kathrina Cobleigh (Mrs. Geo. W. Quick), Instructor in French, Furman University, Greenville, S. C. [316 W. McBee Ave.] Quimby, Ernest Scott, Teacher of English, Evander Childs High School, New York, N. Y. [244 E. 86th St.] Quinn, Arthur Hobson, Professor of English University of Pennsylvania,, Philadelphia, Pa. [401 Pembroke Rd., Cynwyd, Pa.] Quivey, Lynn A., Associate Professor of English, University of Utah, Salt Lake City, Utah. Racer, Marion Milton, Assistant Professor of Modern Languages, Franklin College, Franklin, Ind. Rachael, Sister M., Professor of English, College of Saint Teresa, Winona, Minn. Ramey, Robert, Assistant Professor of English, University of Oklahoma, Norman, Okla. [540 Lahoma Ave.] Ramsay, Robert Lee, Professor of English, University of Missouri, Colum­ bia, Mo. [1320 Wilson Ave.] Rand, Albert E., Instructor in French, Brown University, Providence, R. I. Randolph, Charles Brewster, Professor of German, Clark University Worcester, Mass. Rankin, James Walter, Associate Professor of English, University of Mis­ souri, Columbia, Mo. [311 Thilly Ave.] Ransmeier, John Christian, Assistant Professor in Romance Dept., Junior College School of Education, University of Chicago, Chicago, IU. [5524 Kimbark Ave.] Ransom, John Crowe, Assistant Professor of English, Vanderbilt University, NashviUe, Tenn. [1610 17th Ave. S.] Raschen, John Frederick Louis, Head of the Department of Modem Lan­ guages, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. Rathke, Walter Robert, Graduate Student in Modem Languages, Univer­ sity of Chicago, Chicago, IU. [Box 262] Ratti, Gino A., Professor and Head of Department of Romance Languages, Butler CoUege, Indianapolis, Ind. [142 Spencer Ave.] Raven, Anton Adolph, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, Dartmouth College Hanover, N. H. Raymond, Frederic Newton, Professor of EngUsh, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [808 IUinois St.] Raymond, Mary Lois, Professor of Romance Languages, EvansviUe CoUege, EvansviUe, Ind. [1030 S. Second St.] Raymond, WilUam Ober, Assistant Professor of EngUsh Literature, Univer­ sity of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1317 Forest Court] Rea, John Dougan, Professor of English, Miami University, Oxford, O. |114 East Church St.] Read, WUliam A., Professor of the EngUsh Language and Literature, Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, La. [344 Napoleon St.] Reed, Albert Granberry, Professor of EngUsh Literature, in charge of the Department of Comparative Literature, Louisiana State University, Baton Rouge, La. [658 Boyd Ave.] Reed, Amy Louise, Associate Professor of English, Vassar College, Pough­ keepsie, N. Y. Reed, Edward Bliss, Assistant Professor of English Literature, Yale Univer­ sity, New Haven, Conn. [Yale Station] Reed, Frank Otis, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Reed, Katharine M., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Municipal University, Akron, O. Reed, WilUam HoweU, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Tufts CoUege, Tufts CoUege, Mass. [P. O. Box 54] Reeves, Jeremiah Bascom, Professor of English, Westminster College, Fulton, Mo. Reeves, William Peters, Professor of the English Language and Literature, Kenyon CoUege, Gambier, O. Reid, EUsabeth, Professor of EngUsh, Huron CoUege, Huron, S. D. [547 Nebraska St.] Rein, Orestes Pearle, Professor of Modern Languages, Lenoir College, Hick­ ory, N. C. Reinhard, John Revell, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Univer­ sity of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1030 Oakland Ave.] Reinhardt, Aurelia Henry, President of Mills College, Mills College, Calif. Reinsch, Frank Herman, Professor of German, University of Redlands, Redlands, Cal. [1500 W. Olive Ave.] Remy, Arthur Frank Joseph, Associate Professor of Germanic Philology, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Rendtorff, Karl Gustav, Professor of German, Stanford University, Cal. Rey, Ernest, Professor of Romance Languages, Iowa Wesleyan College, Mt. Pleasant, la. [Box 311.] Reynolds, George Fullmer, Professor of English Literature, University of Colorado, Boulder, Col. [1220 Grand View] Reynolds, Horace Mason, Graduate Student in English, Harvard Univer­ sity, Cambridge, Mass. [304 Fairfax Hall] Rhoads, Howard Garrett, Instructor in English, College of Wooster, Wooster, O. Rice, John Pierrepont, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. Rice, Richard Ashley, Professor of English Literature, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. Richards, Alfred Emest, Professor of English Literature, New Hampshire State College, Durham, N. H. Richards, William, Instructor in English, New York University, Washing­ ton Square College, New York City. [Box 50, Ettingville, S. I., New York] Richardson, Caroline Francis, Assistant Professor of English, Counselor to Women, Newcomb College, New Orleans, La. Richardson, Henry Brush, Instructor in French, Sheffield Scientific School, Yale University. [34 Atwater Ave., Derby, Conn.] Richardson, Lula McDowell, Graduate Student in Romance Languages, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. [1102 Brentford Ave.] Rickert, Edith, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Riddell, Agnes Rutherford, Professor and Head of Department of Romance Languages, Wheaton College, Norton, Mass. Riddle, Lawrence M., Professor of the French Language and Literature, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, Cal. Ridenour, Harry Lee, Professor of English, Baldwin-Wallace College, Berea, 0. [326 Front St.] Riley, Edgar Heisler, Assistant in English, University, of Illinois, Urbana Ill. Rinaker, Clarissa, Assistant Professor of English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Hl. [908 Nevada St.J Ristine, Frank Humphrey, Professor of the English Language and Litera­ ture, Hamilton College, Clinton, N. Y. Robbins, Harry Wolcott, Professor of English, Bucknell University, Lewis­ burg, Pa. Robert, Osmund T., Professor of French, Smith College, North­ ampton, Mass. [29 Kensington Ave.] Roberts, Donald A., Instructor in English, College of the City of New York, N. Y. Roberts, Morris, Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [803 State St.] Robertson, Stuart, Assistant Professor of English, Temple University, Philadelphia, Pa. Robinson, Fred Norris, Professor of English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [Longfellow Park] Robinson, Gertrude Lucile, Instructor in English, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. [Worthington, O.] Roche, Charles Edouard, Instructor in French and Spanish, University of Vermont, Burlington, Vt. [249 Pearl St.] Rockwell, Leo L., Professor of German and English, Bucknell University, Lewisburg, Pa. Rockwood, Robert Everett, Assistant Professor and Acting Head of the Department of Romance Languages, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. [209 Hayes Hall] Roe, Frederick William, Assistant Dean, and Assistant Professor of Eng­ lish, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [2015 Van Hise Ave.] Roedder, Edwin Carl, Associate Professor of German Philology, University of Wisconsin, Roessler, Erwin William, Lecturer in German, Columbia University, New York City. [418 Central Park West] Rogers, Lyman Willetts, Assistant Professor of French, Washington and Jefferson College, Washington, Pa. Rogers, Mabel Jane, Instructor in Spanish, University of Akron, Akron, O. Rollins, George Alcuin, Instructor in English, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. Rollins, Hyder Edward, Associate Professor of English, New York Univer­ sity, New York, N. Y. [Box 65, University Heights] van Roosbroeck, Gustave L., Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, • University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn, (on leave) [c/o Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md.] Root, Robert Kilbum, Professor of English, Princeton University, Prince­ ton, N. J. Rose, Andreas Gottlieb Ernst, 191 Berkeley Place, Brooklyn, N. Y. Rose, Robert Selden, Assistant Professor of Spanish, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [475 Orange St.] Roselli, Bruno, Professor and Head of the Department of Italian, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Rosenberg, S. L. Millard, Professor of Romance Languages, University of California, Southern Branch, Los Angeles, Calif. Rosselot, Alzo Pierre, Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures, Otterbein College, Westerville, O. [254 E. College Ave.] Rotunda, D. P., Instructor in Romance Languages, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. Roule, Jules Claude, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Dart­ mouth College, Hanover, N. H. [13 W. Wheelock St.] Roulston, Robert Bruce, Associate Professor of German, Johns Hopkins University, Baltimore, Md. Routh, James, Professor of English, Oglethorpe University, Ga. Rowbotham, Arnold H., Professor of French, Tsing Hua College, Peking, China. Roy, James A., Assistant Professor of English, Queen’s University, Kingston, Ont., Canada. Royster, James Finch, Professor of English, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Rubel, Helen F., Graduate Student in English, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. [372 Church Lane, Germantown, Philadelphia, Pa.] Rudwin, Maximilian, Assistant Professor of Modern Languages, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. Rusk, Ralph Leslie, Assistant Professor of English, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. Russell, Frances Theresa, Assistant Professor of English, Stanford Univer­ sity, Calif. Russel, Margaret, Assistant Professor of English, Kansas State Agricultural CoUege, Manhattan, Kans. Russo, Joseph Louis, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Allegheny College, Meadville, Pa. Ruud, Martin B., Assistant Professor of English, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Ruutz-Rees, Caroline, Headmistress, Rosemary HaU, Greenwich, Conn. [Lake Ave.] Ryan, Calvin Taylor, Professor of the EngUsh Language and Literature, Iowa Wesleyan CoUege, Mt. Pleasant, la. Rypins, Stanley I., Professor of English, San Francisco State Teachers CoUege, San Francisco, Cal. Saidla, Leo Erval Alexandre, Associate Professor of English, Alabama Polytechnic Institute, Auburn, Ala. [Box 333] de Saint Felix, A. Y. A., Instructor in French, College of the City of New York, N. Y. Saleski, Mary Agnes, Instructor in German and Spanish, St. Lawrence University, Canton, N. Y. [34 Court St.] Saleski, Reinhold Eugen, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Univer­ sity of Delaware, Newark, Del. (on leave) [15 Steinackerstr., Freiburg- Littenweiler i/Br., Germany] Salt, Harvey Russell, Instructor in English, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. [138 Oakview Ave., Edgewood Park] de Salvio, Alfonso, Professor of Romance Languages, Northwestern Univer­ sity, Evanston, Ill. [1115 Davis St.] Salyer, Sandford M., Head of the Department of English, Sweet Briar College, Sweet Briar, Va. Sampson, Martin Wright, Professor of English, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. Sanders, Walter Frederick, Dean of the College and Head of the Depart­ ment of Modern Languages, Park College, Parkville, Mo. Sandison, Helen Estabrook, Assistant Professor of English, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Sargent, Mrs. Margarete L., Professor of Romance Languages, University of Idaho, Moscow, Ida. Savage, Henry Lyttleton, Instructor in English, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [131 Pyne HallJ Savage, Howard James, Carnegie Foundation for the Advancement of Teaching, 522 Fifth Ave., New York City. Sawtelle, Mary Anna, Lecturer on French Literature, Hartford, Conn. [34 Whiting Lane] Saxe, Nathaniel Edgar, Instructor in Romance Languages, Iowa State College, Ames, Iowa. Scatori, Stephen, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Oklahoma, Norman, Okla. Schacht, Paul Lamb, Assistant Professor of English, Capital University, Columbus, O. [1641 E. Main St.] Schaffer, Aaron, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Texas, Austin, Texas. [Box 176, University Station] Schafheitlin, Anna, Instructor in German, Bryn Mawr College, Bryn Mawr, Pa. [Low Buildings] Schelling, Felix E., John Welsh Centennial Professor of English Literature, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [421 S. Carlisle St.] Schenck, Eunice Morgan, Associate Professor of French, Bryn Mawr Col­ lege, Bryn Mawr, Pa. [Low Buildings] Schevill, Rudolph, Professor of Spanish, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [1308 Tamalpais Rd.] Schilling, Hugo Karl, Professor of the German Language and Literature, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [822 Mendocino Ave.] Schinnerer, Otto Paul, Lecturer, Dept. of Germanic Languages, Columbia University, New York City. [122 E. 37th St.] Schinz, Albert, Professor of the French Language and Literature, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. Schlatter, Edward Bunker, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [2259 Regent St.] Schlauch, Margaret, Teacher of English, Theodore Roosevelt High School, New York City. [Hasbrouck Heights, N. J.] Schlenker, Carl, Professor of German, University of Minnesota, Minne­ apolis, Minn. [514 Eleventh Ave., S. E.] Schlosser, Ralph Wiest, Professor of French and Spanish, Elizabethtown College, Elizabethtown, Pa. Schmidt, Alfred Francis William, Professor of German, and University Librarian, George Washington University, Washington, D. C. [2023 G St., N. W.] Schmidt, Alfred H., Instructor in English, Warren Easton High School, New Orleans, La. [7010 Jeanette St.] Schneider, Franklin, Assistant Professor of German, University of Califor­ nia, Berkeley, Cal. [403 Wheeler Hall] Schobinger, Elsie, Head of the Department of Modem Languages, Harvard School for Boys, 4731 Ellis Ave., Chicago, Ill. Schoch, Caroline P. B., Professor of German, North Carolina College for Women, Greensboro, N. C. Schoedinger, Paul Siebert, Fellow in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1928 Yale Station] Schoell, Franck Louis, Agr£ge de I’Universite de France, Paris, France. [45 rue d’Ulm] Scholl, John William, Associate Professor of German, University of Michi­ gan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [917 Forest Ave.] Schreiber, Carl F., Assistant Professor of German, Sheffield Scientific School, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [65 Elmwood Road] Schultz, John Richie, Professor of English Literature, Allegheny College, Meadville, Pa. [380 N. Main St.] Schultz, William Eben, Professor of English and Head of the English De­ partment, Culver-Stockton College, Canton, Mo. Schutz, Alexander Herman, Professor of Romance Languages, Iowa State Teachers College, Cedar Falls, la. [822 Main St.] Schiitze, Martin, Professor of German Literature, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Schwartz, Rev. Henry B., Department of Public Instruction, 406 Kauikeo- lani Building, Honolulu, T. H. Schwartz, Laura Virginia, Instructor in English, Stanford University, Cal. Schwartz, William Leonard, Instructor in French, Stanford University, Cal. [Box 592] de Schweinitz, Margaret, Assistant Professor of French, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Scott, Charles Payson Gurley, Editor, Yonkers, N. Y. [49 Arthur St.] Scott, Franklin William, Assistant Professor of English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Scott, Fred Newton, Professor of Rhetoric, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1142 Forest Ave.] Scott, John Hubert, Assistant Professor of English, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [Engineering Building] Scott, Willis H., College Representative, Scott, Foresman & Co., Chicago, Ill. [600 Belleforte Ave., Oak Park, Ill.] Scudder, Harold H., Associate Professor of English, New Hampshire State College, Durham, N. H. Scudder, Nita E., Teacher of English, William Penn High School, Phila­ delphia, Pa. Scudder, Vida D., Professor of English, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. Seamans, Elton H., Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Cin­ cinnati, Cincinnati, O. Searles, Colbert, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Minne­ sota, Minneapolis, Minn. Seckerson, Howard Arnold, Professor of English, Connecticut Agricul­ tural College, Storrs, Conn. Secord, Arthur Wellesley, Instructor in English, University of Illinois, Urbana, IU. [907 W. California St.] Segall, Jacob Bernard, Professor and Head of the Department of French, University of Maine, Orono, Me. Sehrt, Edward H., Professor of Romance Languages, Pennsylvania College, Gettysburg, Pa. [141 York St.] Seiberth, Philipp, Instructor in German, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. [2306 Nueces St.] Seneca, Pasquale, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Penn­ sylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Senger, Joachim Henry, Professor of German, Emeritus, University of Cali­ fornia, Berkeley, Cal. [1321 Bay View St.] Seronde, Joseph, Associate Professor of French, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [1404 Yale Station] Seward, Samuel S., Jr., Associate Professor of English, Leland Stanford Junior University, Cal. [262 Kingsley Ave., Palo Alto] Sexton, John Joseph, Instructor in Romance Languages, Harvard Univer­ sity, Cambridge, Mass. Sexton, Meta Maria, Cataloguer in charge of the Cavagna Collection, University of Illinois. [807 S. First St., Champaign, Ill.] Seymour, Arthur R., Associate in Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, III. [909 W. Nevada St.] Shackford, Martha Hale, Professor of English Literature, Wellesley College, Wellesley, Mass. [7 Midland Road] Shafer, Robert, Ropes Associate Professor of Comparative Literature, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, O. Shanks, Lewis Piaget, Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures, Western University, London, Ont. [694 Talbot St.] Shannon, Edgar Finley, Professor of English, Washington and Lee Univer­ sity, Lexington, Va. Shattuck, Waldo Hall, Instructor in Romance Languages, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. [54 S. Main St.] Shaw, Esther Elizabeth, Professor of English, Hood College, Frederick, Md. Shaw, James Eustace, Professor of Italian and Spanish, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ont. [75 Walmer Rd.] Shaw, Marlow Alexander, Associate Professor of EngUsh Literature, Iowa State University, Iowa City, la. Shears, Lambert Armour, Instructor in German, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. [393 West 8th Ave.] Shedd, Karl Eastman, Instructor in Spanish, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [264 Everit St.] Sheffield, Alfred Dwight, Associate Professor of Rhetoric and Composition, WeUesley CoUege, WeUesley, Mass. Sheldon, Caroline, Professor of Romance Languages, Grinnell CoUege, Grin­ nell, la. Sheldon, Edward Stevens, Professor Emeritus of Romance Philology, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [39 Kirkland St.] SheUy, Percy Van Dyke, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, University of Penn­ sylvania, PhUadelphia, Pa. Shelton, Whitford H., Professor of Romance Languages, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. Shepard, Grace Florence, Professor of EngUsh, Wheaton CoUege, Norton, Mass. Shepard, OdeU, Professor and Head of the Department of English, Trinity CoUege, Hartford, Conn. [14 Seabury HaU] Shepard, WiUiam Pierce, Professor of Romance Languages, HamUton Col­ lege, Clinton, N. Y. Shephard, Esther, Instructor in EngUsh, Seattle, Wash. [362 Ward St.] Sherburn, George WUey, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, University of Chicago, Chicago, IU. Sherman, Lucius A., Professor of the English Language and Literature, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. Sherman, Richard P., Instructor in Romance Languages, Indiana Univer­ sity, Bloomington, Ind. [110 East 4th St.] herman, Stuart Pratt, Professor of EngUsh, University of Illinois, Urbana, IU. [1116 W. Nevada St.] Sherriett, Sarah M., Professor of EngUsh Literature, Otterbein CoUege, WesterviUe, O. [49 W. Main St.] Sherwood, Margaret Merriam, Instructor in French, Smith College, North ampton, Mass. Shewmake, Edwin Francis, Professor of English, Davidson College, David­ son, N. C. Shively, George Jenks, Assistant Manager Educational Department, Harcourt, Brace & Co., 1 West 47th St., New York, N. Y. Shoemaker, Carolyn, Professor of English Literature and Dean of Women, Purdue University, W. Lafayette, Ind. Shulters, John Raymond, Associate Professor of Modern Languages, Purdue University, Lafayette, Ind. [814J^ Columbia St.] Shumway, Daniel Bussier, Professor of German Philology, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Sibley, Robert Pelton, Secretary, New York State College of Agriculture, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [118 Eddy St.] Silin, Charles Intervale, Graduate School, Johns Hopkins University, Balti­ more, Md. Sills, Kenneth Charles Morton, President, Bowdoin College, Brunswick, Me. Silz, Walter, Instructor in German, Harvard College, Cambridge, Mass. [30 Shepard St.] Simonds, William Edward, Professor of English and Dean of the College, Knox College, Galesburg, Ill. Simpson, S. C. W., Vice-President Benjamin H. Sanborn Co., 50 Beacon St., Boston, Mass. Sirich, Edward Hinman, Professor of Romance Languages, St. John’s College, Annapolis, Md. Sisson, Louis Eugene, Professor of English, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [1236 Louisiana St.] Sizer, Major Frederick Mortimer, Head of Department of Modem Lan­ guages, Staunton Military Academy, Staunton, Va. [Kable Station] Skidmore, Mark, Professor of Romance Languages, Colorado College, Colorado Springs, Col. Skillings, Everett, Professor of German, Middlebury College, Middlebury, Vt. Skinner, Prescott Orde, Professor of Romance Languages, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Slater, John Rothwell, Professor of English, University of Rochester, Rochester, N. Y. Slever, Clark H., Assistant and Graduate Student in English, The University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Small, Veo Fuller, Instructor in French, Ursinus College, Collegeville, Pa. Smart, Walter Kay, Professor of English, School of Commerce, North western University, Evanston, Ill. [905 Michigan Ave.] Smead, Jane Van Ness, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Wells College, Aurora-on-Cayuga, N. Y. Smith, Charles Alphonso, Professor and Head of the Department of English, U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. Smith, Frank Clifton, Gurleyville, Conn. Smith, Frederick M., Assistant Professor of English, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [3 Central Ave.] Smith, Harriet L., Graduate Student in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [Rydal, Pa.] Smith, Horatio Elwin, Professor of French, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Smith, Hugh Allison, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [15 Prospect Ave.] Smith, Leon Perdue, Jr., Head of the Department of Modern Languages, Lanier High School, Macon, Ga. Smith, Mahlon Ellwood, Dean of the School of Basic Arts and Sciences, and Director of the Summer Session, Oregon Agricultural College, Cor­ vallis, Ore. Smith, Maxwell Austin, Professor of French, University of Chattanooga, Chattanooga, Tenn. Smith, Peter Frank, Jr., Instructor in Spanish, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [Faculty Exchange] Smith, Rebecca Washington, Assistant Professor of English, Texas Christian University, Fort Worth, Tex. [1424 Cooper St.] Smith, Reed, Professor of English, University of South Carolina, Columbia, S. C. [1628 Pendleton St.] Smith, Richard R., Manager, College Department, The Macmillan Com­ pany, 66 Fifth Ave., New York, N. Y. Smith, Robert Metcalf, Professor and Head of English Department, Univer­ sity of Wyoming, Laramie, Wyo. Smith, Roland Mitchell, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [7 Conant Hall] Smith, Stanley Astredo, Associate Professor of Romanic Languages, Leland Stanford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal. (on leave). Smith, Winifred, Associate Professor of English, Vassar College, Pough­ keepsie, N. Y. Smyser, William Emory, Professor of English and Dean, Ohio Wesleyan University, Delaware, O. Snavely, Guy Everett, President and Professor of Spanish, Birmingham- Southern College, Birmingham, Ala. Snell, Ada L. F., Associate Professor of English, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass. Sniffen, Edith M., Instructor in English, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. Snyder, Alice Dorothea, Assistant Professor of English, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. Snyder, Edward Douglas, Assistant Professor of English, Haverford College, Haverford, Pa. Snyder, Franklyn Bliss, Professor of English, Northwestern University, Evanston, Ill. [1624 Ashland Ave.] Snyder, Henry Nelson, President and Professor of English, Wofford College, Spartanburg, S. C. de Solenni, Gino V. Medici, Instructor in Romanic Languages and Literatures, University of Washington, Seattle, Wash. Solomon, Alfred, Assistant Professor of French, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. Sorber, James David, Instructor in French, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [80 Sherman Ave.] Soto, Rafael Arc£ngel, Associate Professor of Spanish, University of North Dakota, Grand Forks, N. D. [177 University Station] Spaeth, J. Duncan, Professor of English, Princeton University, Princeton, N.J. Spagnoli, John J., Tutor in Romance Languages, College of the City of New York, N. Y. [139th St. and Convent Ave.] Spalding, Phebe Estelle, Professor of English Literature, Pomona College, Claremont, Calif. [261 W. Sth St.] Spanhoofd, Edward, Head of the Department of German, St. Paul’s School, Concord, N. H. Spargo, John W., Instructor in EngUsh, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. Spaulding, John Austin, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Trinity College, Hartford, Conn. [73 Catherine St.] Spaulding, Robert Kilbum, Assistant in Spanish, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. [368 60th St., Oakland, Calif.] Speare, Morris Edmund, Head of English Department, College of Commerce, University of Maryland, Baltimore, Md. [2715 St. Paul Ave.] Speck, William A., Curator, Yale University Library, New Haven, Conn. Spencer, Hazelton, Assistant Professor of English, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [315 Walnut St.] Spencer, WilUam Gear, President of HiUsdale CoUege, Hillsdale, Mich. Spiers, Alexander Guy Holborn, Associate Professor of French, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Spiker, Claude Carl, Associate Professor of French and Spanish, West Virginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. SpiUer, Robert Ernest, Instructor in EngUsh, Swarthmore College, Swarth­ more, Pa. [Cedar Lane and Swarthmore Ave.] Spindler, George W., Associate Professor of German, Purdue University, West Lafayette, Ind. [408 RusseU St.] Smngakn, Joel Elias, Troutbeck, Amenia (Dutchess Co.) N. Y. Spinney, Raymond H., Professor of EngUsh, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. [4 Occom Ridge] Spohn, George W., Professor and Chairman of Department of English, St, Olaf College, Northfield, Minn. Spooner, Edwin Victor, Instructor in French, Phillips Exeter Academy, Exeter, N. H. Sprau, George, Professor of English, Western State Normal School, Kalama­ zoo, Mich. [949 Walwood Place] Squair, John, Professor Emeritus of French Literature, University of Toronto, Toronto, Ont. [368 Palmerston Ave.] Staaf, Oscar Emil, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Adelbert College of Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. Stair, Bird, Assistant Professor of English, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Stanoyevitch, Millvoy Stoyan, Lecturer in Slavonic Languages, Columbia University, New York City. Stanton, Amida, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [2045 Leamard Ave.] Starck, Taylor, Instructor in German, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [32 Bowdoin St.] Starnes, DeWitt Talmage, Instructor in English, The Rice Institute, Hous­ ton, Tex. Starr, Nathan Comfort, Assistant in English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [50 Shepard St.] Stathers, Madison, Professor of Romance Languages, West Virginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. [288 Grand St.] Steadman, John M., Jr., Professor of English, Emory University, Ga. van Steenderen, F. C. L., Professor and Head of the Department of Ro­ mance Languages, Lake Forest College, Lake Forest, Ill. Steeves, Harrison Ross, Associate Professor of English, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Steffen, (Rev.) Nicholas A., Instructor in English, Academy Department, Columbia College, Dubuque, la. Stelter, Benjamin F., Professor and Head of Department of English, Oc­ cidental College, Los Angeles, Cal. Stempel, Guido Hermann, Associate Professor of Comparative Philology, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [723 S. Park Ave.] Stenberg, Theodore Thorson, Instructor in English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. Stepanek, Orin, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. Stephens, Winston B., Head of Upper School, Riverdale Country School, Riverdale-on-Hudson, New York City. Sterling, Susan Adelaide, Assistant Professor of German, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [1612 Howard Place] Stevens, Alice Porter, Associate Professor of German, Mount Holyoke, College, South Hadley, Mass. Stevens, Clarence Dimick, Associate Professor of English, University of Cincinnati, Cincinnati, 0. [Senator Place Apartments, Clifton] Stevens, David Harbison, Assistant Professor of English, University of Chicago, Chicago, Hl. [Faculty Exchange] Stevens, Ernest Nichols, Assistant to the Editor-in-Chief, Ginn & Co., IS Ashburton Place, Boston, Mass. Stevens, Henry Harmon, 227 Ten Eyck St., Watertown, N. Y. Stewart, George R., Jr., Instructor in English, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [Wheeler Hall] Stewart, Morton Collins, Assistant Professor of German, Union College, Schenectady, N. Y. [1 Rugby Road] Stewart, Randall, Instructor in English, University of Idaho, Moscow, Ida. Stewart, William Kilbome, Professor of Comparative Literature, Dart­ mouth College, Hanover, N. H. Stine, Harold Saeger, Instructor in English, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [1314 Allegheny Ave.] Stoddard, Francis Hovey, Professor Emeritus of the English Language and Literature, New York University, University Heights, New York, N.Y. [22 W. 68th St.] Stoll, Elmer Edgar, Professor of English, University of Minnesota, Minne­ apolis, Minn. Stone, Emma Louise, Professor of Romance Languages, Head of the Depart­ ment of Modem Languages, Lindenwood College, St. Charles, Mo. Stone, Herbert King, c/o American Express Company, 11 rue Scribe, Paris, France. Stone, Imogen, Professor of English, Newcomb College, New Orleans, La. Storer, Walter Henry, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1303 Geddes Ave.] Stork, Charles Wharton, Philadelphia, Pa. [Logan P. 0.] Storn, Martin W., Professor of Romance Languages, Evansville College, Evansville, Ind. Stowell, William Averill, Professor of Romance Languages, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Strauss, Louis A., Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Ar­ bor, Mich. [1601 Cambridge Road] Stroebe, Lilian L., Associate Professor of German, Vassar College, Pough­ keepsie, N. Y. Stroer, Bernard, Instructor in German, Evening School of the College of the City of New York. [917 Bloomfield St., Hoboken, N. J.] Strube, Claire M. M., Instructor in Latin, Greek, and French, Mt. Vernon College, Baltimore, Md. [2700 N. Calvert St.] Struck, Henriette, Assistant Professor of German, Vassar College, Pough­ keepsie, N. Y. Strunk, William, Jr., Professor of English, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [107 Lake St.] Struthers, Lester B., Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Worcester Polytechnic Institute, Worcester, Mass. Stuart, Donald Clive, Professor of Dramatic Literature, Princeton Univer­ sity, Princeton, N. J. [Western Way] Stubner, Emma Catherine, Instructor in Romance Languages, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. Stuff, Frederick Ames, Professor of Technique of Instruction in English, Department of English, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [Sta­ tion A 1263] Sturdevant, Winifred, Head of Department of French, Roland Park Coun­ try School, Baltimore, Md. [818 W. 40th St.] Sturtevant, Albert Morey, Associate Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [924 Louisiana St.] Sturtevant, Ethel G., Instructor in English, Barnard College, Columbia University, New York City. Swain, Milicent Augusta, Assistant Professor of English, College for Women, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. [1830 Beersford, Road East Cleveland] Swanson, Adolph Benjamin, Graduate Student in Romance Languages, University of Chicago, Chicago, Hl. [6148 Kimbark Ave.] Swartley, Stanley S., Professor of English Language, Allegheny College, Meadville, Pa. [656 William St.] Swift, Cora Letitia, Instructor in French, Oberlin College, Oberlin, O. [Ill S. Professor St.] Swinebroad, Ruth, Instructress in French, 964 Lamar Blvd., Memphis, Tenn. Sypherd, Wilbur Owen, Professor of English, University of Delaware, Newark, Del. Tabor, Alice Post, Instructor in German, University of California, Berkeley, Calif. [1421 Hawthorne Terrace] Taeusch, Henry William, Instructor in English, Williams College, Williams­ town, Mass. Taft, Arthur Irving, Assistant Professor in English, Oberlin College, Oberlin, O. [58 E. Lorain St.] Talamon, Rend, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1714 Wells St.] Tandy, Jeanette Reed, Instructor in English, Franklin College, Franklin, Ind. Tarr, F. Courtney, Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [1 College Road] Tastevin, Maria, Associate Professor of French, Vassar College, Pough­ keepsie, N. Y. Tatlock, John Strong Perry, Professor of English Philology, Leland Stanford Jr. University, Stanford University, Cal. Tayloe, Aechee, Associate Professor of German, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. Taylor, Edward Ayers, Assistant Professor of English, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [Graduate College] Taylor, Elsie Deane, Instructor in English, Denison University, Granville, 0. Taylor, George Bingham, Instructor in French and Spanish, Lawrenceville School, Lawrenceville, N. J. Taylor, Marion Lee, Teacher of French, Erasmus Hall High School, Brook­ lyn, N. Y. [184 Columbia Heights] Taylor, Rupert, Professor of English and Dean of Academic Faculty, Alabama Polytechnic Institute, Auburn, Ala. Taylor, Warner, Assistant Professor of English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Temple, Maud Elizabeth, Teacher of Romance Languages, Margaret HaU, Versailles, Ky. Tenney, Cecilia Edith, Instructor in French, Reed CoUege, Portland, Ore. Terry, Helen V., Instructor in Romance Languages, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. [165 12th Ave.] Thaler, Alwin, Professor of English, University of Tennessee, KnoxviUe, Tenn. Tharp, James’B., Assistant in Romance Languages, University of IUinois, Urbana, IU. Thayer, Harvey Waterman, Associate Professor of Modem Languages, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [12 Nassau St.] Thayer, Mary Rebecca, Assistant Professor of EngUsh, The CoUege of Wooster, Wooster, O. Theobald, OttiUe, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Columbus, 0. [388 Fairwood Ave.] Thieme, Hugo Paul, Professor of French, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [3 Geddes Heights] Thier, Rev. A. R., Professor of Modem Languages, Columbia CoUege, Dubuque, la. Thomas, Eleanor Walter, Instructor in EngUsh, CoUege for Women, West­ ern Reserve University, Cleveland, 0. Thomas, May, Assistant Professor of German, Ohio State University, Columbus, O. [1473 NeU Ave.] Thomas, Roger, Instructor in Comparative Literature, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. Thompson, Elbeet N. S., Professor of EngUsh Literature, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [714 Iowa Ave.] Thompson, Guy Andrew, Associate Professor of EngUsh, Occidental CoUege, Los Angeles, Cal. [122 Rowland Ave., Eagle Rock, Cal.] Thompson, Harold WilUam, Assistant Professor of English, New York State CoUege for Teachers, Albany, N. Y. Thompson, James Westfall, Professor of Medieval History, The University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Thompson, Stith, Associate Professor of English, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. Thorndike, Ashley Horace, Professor of English, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Thorp, Willard, Assistant Professor of English, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [67 Kensington Ave.] Thrall, Miriam Mulford, 50 Morningside Drive, New York City. Thrall, William Flint, Assistant Professor of English, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Throop, George Reeves, Collier Professor of Greek, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. Thurber, Charles H., Ginn & Co., 35 Ashburton Place, Boston, Mass. Thurnau, Harry Conrad, Professor of Germanic Languages and Literatures, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. [1701 Indiana St.] Tiffany, Esther Allison, 682 Fairmount Ave., St. Paul, Minn. Tilley, Morris Palmer, Professor of English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1015 Ferdon Road] Tilly, Edmund, Instructor in Modem Languages, Union CoUege, Schenec­ tady, N. Y. Tinker, Chauncey B., Professor of English Literature, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [847 Memorial Quadrangle] Tisdel, Frederick Monroe, Professor of EngUsh and Dean of the CoUege of Arts and Sciences, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. [1316 Wilson Ave.] Titsworth, Paul E., Professor of Modem Languages, Alfred University, Alfred, N. Y. Todd, Henry .Alfred, Professor of Romance PhUology, Columbia Univer­ sity, New York, N. Y. Todd, Theodore Walter, Professor of German, 466 Ruthven Ave., Palo Alto, Calif. Todd, Walter E., Instructor in French and Spanish, WilUam Warren School, Menlo Park, Cal. Tolman, Albert Harris, Professor of EngUsh Literature, University of Chi­ cago, Chicago, IU. del Toro, JuUo, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1120 HiU St.] Torres, Arturo, Assistant Professor of Spanish, New York University, New York City. [521 W. 121st St.] Towles, Oliver, Professor of French, University of North Carolina, Chapel HUI, N. C. Townsend, Charles Louis, Professor of Modem Languages, Southwestern Presbyterian University, ClarksviUe, Tenn. Toy, Walter Dallam, Professor and Head of the Department of Germanic Languages and Literatures, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. Trautman, William D., Assistant Professor of Modem Languages, Case School of Applied Science, Cleveland, O. Traver, Hope, Professor of English, Mills College, Mills College, Cal. Trent, William Peterfield, Professor of English Literature, Columbia Uni­ versity, New York, N. Y. [126 E. 34th St.] Trombly, Albert Edmund, Professor and Chairman of the Department of Romance Languages, University of Missouri, Columbia, Mo. Trumbauer, Walter Hanrichs Renner, Assistant Professor of English, Grin- nel College, Grinnell, la. Truscott, Frederick W., Professor of Germanic Languages, West Vir­ ginia University, Morgantown, W. Va. Tryon, Ruth Wilson, (Mrs. Fred G. Tryon), 1323 Jackson St., Washington, D. C. Tufts, James Arthur, Professor of English, Phillips Exeter Academy, Exeter, N. H. Tull, Clyde, Professor of English Literature, Cornell College, Mt. Vernon, la. Tupper, Caroline Frances, Associate in English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [506 Gregory Place] Tupper, Frederick, Professor of the English Language and Literature, University of Vermont, Burlington, Vt. Tupper, James Waddell, Professor of English Literature, Lafayette College, Easton, Pa. Turk, Milton Haight, Professor of the English Language and Literature, Hobart College, Geneva, N. Y. Turner, Albert Morton, Assistant Professor of English, University of Maine, Orono, Me. [12 Park St.] Turrell, Charles Alfred, Professor of Spanish and Italian, University of Arizona, Tucson, Ariz. Tuxbury, Louise, 567 W. 113th St., New York City. Tweedie, William Morley, Professor of the English Language and Litera­ ture, Mount Allison College, Sackville, N. B. Uhlendorf, Bernard Alexander, Instructor in German, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Uhler, John Earle, Instructor in English, Johns Hopkins University, Balti­ more, Md. [319 Gittings Ave., Cedarcroft] Umphrey, George Wallace, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Washington, Seattle, Wash. Underhill, Mary Pence (Mrs. L. K.), c/o Major L. K. Underhill, Command­ ing General of Infantry, Philippine Dept., U. S. Army, Manila, P. I. Underwood, Charles Marshall, 152 Upland Road, Cambridge, Mass. Underwood, Mrs. Edna Worthley, Professional Translator, New York, N. Y. [Box 54, Hamilton Grange Station] Underwood, George Arthur, Professor and Head of the Department of Romance Languages, Iowa State Teachers’ College, Cedar Falls, la. von Unwerth, Frida, Assistant Professor of German, Hunter College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. [527 W. 121st St.] Upham, Alfred Horatio, President, University of Idaho, Moscow, Ida. Uppvall, Axel John, Instructor in Germanics, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [5106 Larchwood Ave.] Uterhart, Henry Ayres, New York, N. Y. [36 W. 44th St.] Utter, Robert Palfrey, Associate Professor of English, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2440 Hillside Ave.] Vaeth, Joseph Anthony, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, New York University, New York, N. Y. [University Heights] Valente, John, Assistant Professor of English, University of Pittsburgh, Pittsburgh, Pa. [5436 Wilkins Ave., Squirrel Hill Station] Van Doren, Carl, Associate in English, Columbia University and Literary Editor of Century Magazine, New York, N. Y. [353 4th Ave.] Van Home, John, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [709 W. Nevada St.] Van Santvoord, George, Assistant Professor of English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Van Winkle, Cortlandt, Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [648 Orange St.] Vaughan, Herbert Hunter, Assistant Professor of Italian, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [35 Everit St.] Vera, Orestes, Correo 10 (Nunoa), Santiago, Chile. Vermont, Adolphe, Professor and Head of the Department of Romance Languages, Converse College, Spartanburg, S. C. [Converse Circle] Verriest, L6on, Assistant Professor of French, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. Viles, George Burridge, Acting Professor of Modem Languages, Rhode Is­ land State College, Kingston, R. I. [P. O. Box 101] Villavaso, Emest Joseph, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. de VillSle, Aline Marie-JosSphe, Assistant Professor of French, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. [261 Crescent St.] Vimont, L6onie, Professor of French, Ward-Belmont College, Nashville, Tenn. de Visme, Henri P. Williamson, Head of the Division of Modern Languages, Dean of the French School, Middlebury College, Middlebury, Vt. Vittorini, Domenico, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Vogt, George McGill, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [36 Lexington Hall] Voigt, Gilbert Paul, Professor of Modern Languages, Newberry College, Newberry, S. C. Vollmer, Clement, Assistant Professor of Germanic Languages and Litera­ ture, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. [249 Carruth Dormitory] Vos, Bert John, Professor of German, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. Voss, Ernst Karl Johann Heinrich, Professor of German Philology, Univer­ sity of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [175 Virginia Terrace] Vuylsteker, Emile-Auguste, 4a Calle de Leona Vicario, 68 D, Mexico City, Mexico. Wade, Ira Owen, Professor of Romance Languages, Marietta College* Marietta, Ohio. [Graduate College, Princeton, N. J.] Wade, John Donald, Adjunct Professor of English, University of Georgia, Athens, Ga. Wadepuhl, Walter, Associate in German, University of Illinois, Urbana, Hl. Wagner, Charles Philip, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. Wahl, George Moritz, Professor of the German Language and Literature, Emeritus, Williams College, Williamstown, Mass. Wait, William Henry, Associate Professor of Modern Languages, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1706 Cambridge Road] Wales, Julia Grace, Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison Wis. Walker, Francis Cox, Assistant Professor of English, University of British Columbia, Vancouver, B. C. Walker, J. Clay, Professor of Modem Languages, Mercer University, Macon, Ga. Wallerstein, Ruth C., Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [433 W. Gilman St.J Wallis, Lawrence B., Instructor in English, Stanford University, Calif. [Box 1049] Walz, John Albrecht, Professor of the German Language and Literature, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [42 Garden St.] Wann, Harry Vincent, Professor of Romance Languages, Indiana State Normal School, Terre Haute, Ind. [1612 S. 4th St.] Wann, Louis, Professor of the English Language and Literature, University of Southern California, Los Angeles, Calif. [1159 W. 37th St.] Wannamaker, William H., Dean and Head of the Department of German, Trinity College, Durham, N. C. [402 Buchanan Blvd.] Ward, Charles Frederick, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. Ward, Robert Calvin, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Colgate University, Hamilton, N. Y. Ward, William Philip, Instructor in Romance Languages, Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. [12010 Clifton Boulevard, Lakewood] Warner, Reginald de Koven, Instructor in French, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [388 Sherman Ave.] Warren, Frederick Morris, Professor of Modern Languages, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Warshaw, Jacob, Professor of Modern Languages, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [Station A] Waterhouse, Francis Asbury, Chairman of the Department of Romance Languages, Kenyon College, Gambier, O. Watson, Harold Francis, Assistant Professor of English, University of Maine, Orono, Me. Watson, Leila, Teacher of French, Head of the Department of Foreign Lan­ guages, High School and Junior College, Santa Ana, Cal. [1814 Hickey St.] Watt, Homer Andrew, Professor of English, New York University (Washing­ ton Square College), New York, N. Y. [55 Mitchell Place, East Orange, N. J.] Watton, Harry B., Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [31 Wendell St.] Watts, George Byron, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [205Folwell Hall] Waxman, Samuel Montefiore, Professor of Romance Languages and Litera­ tures, Boston University, Boston, Mass. Weber, Hermann Julius, Berkeley, Cal. [1811 La Loma Ave.] Webster, Frank Martindale, Associate Professor of English, Washington University, St. Louis, Mo. [Box 50] Webster, Kenneth G. T., Assistant Professor of English, Harvard Univer­ sity, Cambridge, Mass. [Gerry’s Landing] Wedel, Theodore Otto, Professor of English, Carleton College, Northfield, Minn. [805 E. Second St.] Weeks, Raymond, Professor of Romance Languages and Literatures, Colum­ bia University, New York, N. Y. Weigand, Hermann J., Assistant Professor of German, University of Pennsyl­ vania, Philadelphia, Pa. [Box 39, College Hall] Weill, Rlix, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, College of the City of New York, New York City. [Convent Ave.] Wells, Edgar Huidekoper, 41 A East 47th St., New York City. Wells, Henry Willis, Lecturer in English, Columbia University, New York. N. Y. Wells, John Edwin, Professor and Head of the Department of English, Con­ necticut College for Women, New London, Conn. [77 Vauxhall St.] Wenger, Christian N., Instructor in English, University of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. [1311 Wilmot St.] Wemaer, Robert Maximilian, Cambridge, Mass. [20 Prescott St.] Wesenberg, T. Griffith, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Butler College, Indianapolis, Md. Wesselhoeft, Edward Charles, Professor of German, University of Pennsyl­ vania, Philadelphia, Pa. [College Hall] West, Henry Titus, Professor of German, Kenyon College, Gambier, O. West, Nelson W., Master, German Department, Morristown School, Morristown, N. J. Westcott, Allan, Professor of English, U. S. Naval Academy, Annapolis, Md. Weygandt, Cornelius, Professor of English Literature, University of Penn­ sylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Wharey, James Blanton, Associate Professor of English, University of Texas, Austin, Tex. Wheeler, Edith Isabel, Teaching Fellow, Department of Romance Lan­ guages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. Wheeler, Mary L., c/o Ginn & Co., IS Ashburton Place, Boston, Mass. Whicher, George Frisbie, Professor of English, Amherst College, Amherst, Mass. Whipple, Thomas King, Assistant Professor of English, University of Cali­ fornia, Berkeley, Calif. [411 Wheeler Hall] Whitcomb, Selden Lincoln, Professor of Comparative Literature, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. White, Arthur Franklin, Instructor in English, Adelbert College of Western Reserve University, Cleveland, O. White, Elliott Adams, Instructor in English, Dartmouth College, Hanover, N. H. White, Florence Donnell, Professor of French, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. White, Frederick Glover, Assistant in English, Harvard University. [9 Glen Road, Newton Centre, Mass.] White, Helen Constance, Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. White, H. Adelbert, Professor of Rhetoric, Washington and Jefferson Col­ lege, Washington, Pa. [509 E. Chestnut St.] White, Horatio Stevens, Professor Emeritus of German, Harvard Univer­ sity, Cambridge. Mass. [29 Reservoir St.] White, Irving H., University Scholar in English, Harvard University, Cam­ bridge, Mass. [475 Broadway] White, Newman Ivey, Professor of English, Trinity College, Durham, N. C. [3 Beverly Apts.] Whiteford, Robert N., Head Professor of English Literature and Director of Graduate Study, University of Toledo, Toledo, O. [2252 Franklin Ave.] Whitehouse, Victor, Professor of Spanish, Ohio University, Athens, 0. [Colonial Hotel] Whiteside, Donald Grant, Assistant Professor of English, College of the City of New York, New York, N. Y. Whitford, Robert Calvin, Assistant Professor of English, Knox College, Galesburg, Ill. [227 N. Academy St.] Whitman, Charles Huntingdon, Professor of English, Rutgers College, New Brunswick, N. J. [116 Lincoln Ave., Highland Park, N. J.] Whitmore, Charles Edward, Northampton, Mass. [42 Franklin St.] Whitney, Edward Allen, Assistant Dean and Tutor in History and Litera­ ture, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. Whitney, Lois, Assistant Professor of English,Goucher College, Baltimore, Md. Whitney, Marian P., Professor of German, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N.Y. Whitridge, Arnold, Instructor in English, Columbia University, New York City. Whittem, Arthur Fisher, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [9 Vincent St.] Wichelns, Herbert August, Instructor in Public Speaking, New York Uni­ versity. [635 Prospect Place, Brooklyn, N. Y.] Wiehr, Josef, Associate Professor of German, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. Wiohtman, John Roaf, Professor Emeritus of Romance Languages, Oberlin College, Oberlin, O. [240 Elm St., Oberlin, O.] Wilcox, Frank Howard, Associate in English, University of California, Berkeley, Cal. [2730 Haste St.] Wilkens, Frederick H., Professor of the German Language and Literature, New York University, University Heights, Bronx, New York, N. Y. Wilkins, Ernest Hatch, Professor of Romance Languages, University of Chicago, Chicago, IU. Wilkins, Lawrence A., Director of Modem Languages in the High Schools of New York City, Board of Education, New York, N. Y. [598 W. 191st St.] WiUard, Rudolph, Instructor in English, Yale CoUege, New Haven, Conn. [1875 Yale Station] WiUbrand, Irma Louise, FeUow in German, University of Wisconsin, Madi­ son, Wis. [1311 Morris St.] WilUams, Arthur George, Professor of Modem Languages, CoUege of WilUam and Mary, WiUiamsburg, Va. [Scotland St.] WilUams, Blanche Colton, Associate Professor in EngUsh, Hunter CoUege of the City of New York, Instructor in Short Story Writing, Extension Teaching, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [Hunter CoUege] Williams, Charles AUyn, Assistant Professor of German, University of Illinois, Urbana, DI. [714 Nevada St.] Williams, Edwin Bucher, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Pennsylvania, Philadelphia, Pa. Williams, John Milton, Instructor in English, University of North Carolina, Chapel Hill, N. C. [Box 977] Williams, Ralph Coplestone, Associate in French, Johns Hopkins Univer­ sity, Baltimore, Md. Williams, Stanley Thomas, Instructor in English, Yale College, New Haven, Conn. [595 Whitney Ave.] Williamson, Edward John, Professor of Modem Languages and Literatures, Hobart College, Geneva, N. Y. Willsey, Miles, Teaching Fellow in Romance Languages, University of Minnesota, Minneapolis, Minn. [203 Folwell Hall] Willson, Elizabeth, Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [425 Sterling Place] Wilson, Charles Bundy, Professor and Head of the Department of the Ger­ man Language and Literature, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. [323 N. Capitol St.] Wilson, Frederick E., Graduate Student in Germanic Languages, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [71 Sacramento St.] Wilson, James Southall, Edgar Allan Poe Professor of English and English Literature, University of Virginia, Charlottesville, Va. [University, Va.] Wilson, Miriam Elaine, Instructor in French, Park College, Parkville, Mo. Wimberly, Lowry Charles, Instructor in English, University of Nebraska, Lincoln, Neb. [Box 1342, Station A] Windate, Ida M., Head of the English Language Department, Western Col­ lege for Women, Oxford, O. Winfield, Martha Elizabeth, Professor of English, North Carolina College for Women, Greensboro, N. C. Winfrey, Lewis Edgar, Professor of Modern Languages, Hendrix College, Conway, Ark. ' Winkler, Max, Professor of the German Language and Literature, Univer­ sity of Michigan, Ann Arbor, Mich. Winslow, Ola Elizabeth, Associate Professor of English, Goucher'-.jjilege, Baltimore, Md. Winston, Alice, Assistant Professor of English, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kas. Winter, Robert, Assistant Professor of French, Junior College, University of Chicago, Chicago,^'!. Wise, George Chester, Professor of Modem Languages, Parsons College, Fairfield, Iowa. Wisewell, George Ellas, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, Hamil­ ton College, Clinton, Oneida Co., New York. [Faculty Club] Withers, Alfred M., Associate Professor of Spanish, University of Tennes­ see, Knoxville, Tenn. Witherspoon, Alexander MacLaren, Instructor in English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. Withington, Robert, Associate Professor of the English Language and Literature, Smith College, Northampton, Mass. Wittmann, Elisabeth, Instructor in French and German, 939 H St., Lincoln, Neb. Wolff, Samuel Lee, Assistant Professor of English, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. [90 Morningside Drive] Wollstein, Rose Heylbut, Instructor in Romance Languages, Extension Divi­ sion, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Wood, Earl Franklin, Professor of English, Brown University, Providence, R. I. Wood, Francis Asbury, Professor of Germanic Philology, University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. Wood, George Campbell, Assistant Professor of Romance Languages, Dart­ mouth College, Hanover, N. H. Wood, Henry, Professor Emeritus of German, Johns Hopkins University, [Augusta strasse 13, Potsdam, Germany] Woodbridge, Benjamin Mather, Professor of Romance Languages, Reed College, Portland, Ore. Woodbridge, Elizabeth Dana, Instructor in Romance Languages, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. [1112 West Illinois St.] Woodbridge, Homer Edwards, Professor of English Literature, Wesleyan University, Middletown, Conn. [86 Pearl St.] Woodford, Burton H., Professor of French, German, and Hebrew, Central Holiness University, University Park, Oskaloosa, la. Wooley, Elmer 0., Instructor in German, Indiana University, Bloomington, Ind. [228 S. Henderon St.] Worthington, Hugh S., Professor of Romance Languages, Sweet Briar College, Sweet Briar, Va. Wright, Alice May, Instructor in Romance Languages, New Jersey College for Women, New Brunswick, N. J. Wrio-ht, Arthur Silas, Professor of Modern Languages, Case School of Ap- p . Science, Cleveland, O. Wright, Charles Baker, Professor Emeritus of English Literature and Rhetoric, Middlebury College, Middlebury Vt. Wright, Charles Henry Conrad, Professor of the French Language and Literature, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [9 Lowell St.] Wright, Edwin Miner, Instructor in English, University of Rochester, Rochester, N. Y. Wright, Ernest Hunter, Associate Professor of English and Comparative Literature, Columbia University, New York, N. Y. Wylie, Laura Johnson, Professor of English Literature and Head of Depart­ ment of English, Vassar College, Poughkeepsie, N. Y. [112 Market St.] Young, Bert Edward, Professor of Romance Languages, Indiana Univer­ sity, Bloomington, Ind. [521 Kirkwood Ave.] Young, Charles Edmund, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, State University of Iowa, Iowa City, la. Young, Charles Stuart, Instructor in English, Culver Military Academy, Culver, Ind. Young, Karl, Professor of English, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [98 East Rock Road] Young, Mary Vance, Professor of Romance Languages, Mount Holyoke College, South Hadley, Mass. Young, Ruth Elizabeth, Graduate Student in Romance Languages, The University of Chicago, Chicago, Ill. [5746 Dorchester Ave.] Young, William Foster, President, Benjamin H. Sanborn & Co., Chicago, Ill. [221 East 20th St.] Zampiere, Pierre S., Dean of Liberal Arts and Sciences, Washburn College, Topeka, Kas. [1727 West St.] Zdanowicz, Casimir Douglas, Associate Professor of Romance Languages, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. Zeek, Charles Franklyn, Professor of French, Southern Methodist Uni­ versity, Dallas, Tex. Zeitler, William Irving, Graduate Student in English, Harvard University, Cambridge, Mass. [53 Trowbridge St.J Zeitlin, Jacob, Associate Professor of English, University of Illinois, Urbana, Ill. Zfiliqzon, Maurice, Head of Department of Modem Languages, Central High School, Cleveland, O. Zembrod, Alfred Charles, Professor and Head of the Department of Ro­ mance Languages, University of Kentucky, Lexington, Ky. Zeydel, Edwin Hermann, Assistant Professor of German, Indiana Univer­ sity, Bloomington, Ind. Zinnecker, Wesley Daniel, Associate Professor of German, New York University. [638 Springdale Ave., East Orange, N. J.] Zucker, Adolf Eduard, Professor of Modem Languages, University of Mary­ land, College Park, Md. Zucker, Louis C., Instructor in English, University of Wisconsin, Madison, Wis. [2095] Blau, Max Friedrich, Princeton University, Princeton, N. J. [November 23, 1923] Bradley, Henry, Oxford University. [May 23, 1923] Bruce, James Douglas, University of Tennessee, Knoxville, Tenn. [Feb­ ruary 19, 1923] Cram, Gordon LaFayette, City CoUege, Baltimore, Md. [April 9, 1923] Davies, William Walter, Ohio Wesleyan University, Delaware, O. Hewitt, Waterman Thomas, Cornell University, Ithaca, N. Y. [Septem­ ber 13, 1921] Kayser, Carl F., Hunter CoUege, New York City. [July 30, 1923] Knight, Adelaide, Newcombe CoUege, New Orleans, La. [at Rome, Italy, April 22, 1923] Kruse, Henry Otto, University of Kansas, Lawrence, Kans. [September 29, 1922] Lewis, Charlton Miner, Yale University, New Haven, Conn. [March 12, 1923] McCulloch, Rufus William, University of Maine, Orono, Me. [January 22, 1923] Putzker, Albin, Berkeley, Cal. [May 1, 1923] Schmidt, Gertrude Charlotte, Bryn Mawr, Pa. [December 4, 1922] Seccombe, Thomas, Queen’s University, Kingston, Ont. [June 20, 1923] Taylor, Robert Langley, WiUiams CoUege, WiUiamstown, Mass. [May 27, 1923] Wharton, John Herman, Syracuse University, Syracuse, N. Y. [April 2, 1921] Wright, Whuam Lyndon, New York University, New York City. [No­ vember 6, 1922] cciii LIBRARIES Subscribing to the Publications or the Association Aberdeen, S. D.: Library of the Northern Normal and Industrial School Akron, Ohio: Library of the Municipal University of Akron Albany, N. Y.: New York State Library Ames, Iowa: Library of Iowa State College Amherst, Mass.: Amherst College Library Ann Arbor, Mich.: General Library of the University of Michigan Annville, Pa.: Library of Lebanon Valley College Appleton, Wis.: Lawrence College Library Austin, Tex.: Library of the University of Texas Bale, Switzerland: Bibliotheque de I’Universite de Bale. Baltimore, Md.: Enoch Pratt Free Library Baltimore, Md.: Goucher College Library Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Library Bangor, Wales: Library of University College of North Wales. 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work_silixpqaunhbve2hp74keu4sme	----	TOPIA: Canadian Journal of Cultural Studies | UTP Journals Cookies & Privacy This site uses cookies for analytics and access management. For more information, view our Privacy Policy. Please accept our Terms and Conditions before using our website. Learn more. Skip to Main Content (Press Enter) Cart   |  Renew   |  Help  |   ? Sign in  |  Register ☰ HOME BROWSE PUBLICATIONS ABOUT US About University of Toronto Press Copyright & Permissions Ethics and Publication Malpractice Open Access Awards SUBSCRIBE Subscribe or Renew Online Subscriber Resources The Collection 2021 Catalogue (PDF) RESOURCES For Authors For Librarians For Subscribers Frequently Asked Questions PUBLISH WITH US Partner with Us Call for Papers CONTACT US ☰ Journal Menu Journal Menu ☰ Current Issue Browse Issues COVID-19 Essays Subscribe About Editorial Board Aim & Scope Abstracting & Indexing Permissions Publication Ethics and Malpractice Advertising For Authors Submission Guidelines Open Access Books for Review Recommend Search in: This Journal Anywhere Citation Advanced Current Issue Browse Issues COVID-19 Essays Subscribe About Editorial Board Aim & Scope Abstracting & Indexing Permissions Publication Ethics and Malpractice Advertising For Authors Call for Papers Submission Guidelines Open Access Books for Review Recommend ☰ Journal Menu Home > TOPIA: Canadian Journal of Cultural Studies > List of Issues TOPIA: Canadian Journal of Cultural Studies ISSN: 1206-0143; eISSN: 1916-0194 Online from: January 1, 1997 Frequency: Twice a year TOPIA's mandate is to provide a venue for critical research in cultural studies in Canada and beyond. 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work_ss3ldksxojdrdhhfgkp572zbny	----	Deterioration of the Wall of a Historic Stone Building in a Cold Region and Measures to Protect it 1876-6102 © 2015 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. This is an open access article under the CC BY-NC-ND license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/). Peer-review under responsibility of the CENTRO CONGRESSI INTERNAZIONALE SRL doi: 10.1016/j.egypro.2015.11.156 Energy Procedia 78 ( 2015 ) 1371 – 1376 ScienceDirect 6th International Building Physics Conference, IBPC 2015 Deterioration of the wall of a historic stone building in a cold region and measures to protect it Takeshi Ishizakia, Masazo Takamib * aTohoku University of Art and Design, 3-4-5 Kamisakurada, Yamagata 990-9530, Japan bGeological Survey of Hokkaido, Chikukou3-1, Otaru, 0047-0008, Japan Abstract In the northern part of Japan, the air temperature decreases to -10 degrees Celsius in the winter. The outside walls of historic stone buildings deteriorate due to frost damage. We studied the deterioration of historic buildings and their environmental conditions in Otaru and Sapporo in Hokkaido. This paper reports on the observation of the deterioration of the building materials of an important cultural property, the Nihon Yusen Building. We also measured the temperature and humidity inside and outside the building as well as the water content of the wall surface. From these observations, it was revealed that the main cause of deterioration was damage to and rusting of the roof and chimney, which allowed rain water and snow-melt water to enter the rooms. The speed of deterioration is considered to be increasing. In particular, parts of the outside stone wall made of Otaru tuff under the roof on the north, west and south sides have deteriorated; this phenomenon was not observed at the time of the previous restoration. Rain water had penetrated into the stone mainly through the deteriorated part of the roof and rain water gutters as well as through the deteriorated part of the outside wall. Part of the water that had penetrated remained under the roof, on the borders previously mentioned, and between the stone blocks. The freeze and thaw cycles of the water in these areas caused the deterioration of the building materials in winter. As a protective measure, it is necessary to prevent the penetration of water into the building materials so as to avoid frost damage in the winter. It is also necessary to restore the roof, chimney and rain gutters immediately to prevent further damage to the building materials. © 2015 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. Peer-review under responsibility of the CENTRO CONGRESSI INTERNAZIONALE SRL. Keywords: Historic stone building; Deterioration; Frost damage; Freeze and thaw cycle * Takeshi Ishizaki. Tel.: +81-23-627-2281; fax: +81-23-627-2303. E-mail address: ishizaki.takeshi@aga.tuad.ac.jp Available online at www.sciencedirect.com © 2015 The Authors. Published by Elsevier Ltd. This is an open access article under the CC BY-NC-ND license (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/). Peer-review under responsibility of the CENTRO CONGRESSI INTERNAZIONALE SRL http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1016/j.egypro.2015.11.156&domain=pdf http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1016/j.egypro.2015.11.156&domain=pdf http://crossmark.crossref.org/dialog/?doi=10.1016/j.egypro.2015.11.156&domain=pdf 1372 Takeshi Ishizaki and Masazo Takami / Energy Procedia 78 ( 2015 ) 1371 – 1376 1. Introduction A historic stone building, the Nihon Yusen Building, which was designated an important cultural property, is located in Otaru city in Japan (Fig. 1). Otaru city is in Hokkaido and is located in the northern part of Japan. Otaru city was an important port city during the Meiji period when many Japanese people came to Hokkaido to explore the wilderness. During this period, many stone buildings and storages were built by well-known architects using new technology. Construction of the Otaru Branch of the Nihon Yusen building was started in 1904 and completed in October 1906. It is a two-story building made of stone in the French Renaissance style with a zinc-plated iron roof. In September, 1906, a meeting was held in this building to determine the border between Russia and Japan on Sakhalin Island after the Russo-Japanese War. Seventy years after its construction, various parts of the building had deteriorated due to frost damage. Otaru city carried out restoration work for 33 months from October 1984 to June 1987 [1]. Twenty years after this restoration, the Otaru tuff building material had deteriorated under the roof on the north and south sides, and cracks were found at the borders between places where water repellent material had penetrated and where it had not. Wall paper, known as kinkarakawakami, had also deteriorated due to the penetration of rain water through the roof. In addition, fungi were found on the wall surface and color changes were observed on the ceiling. 2. Deterioration of the building 2.1. Deterioration of the outside walls and ceilings Fig. 2 shows the deteriorated condition of the walls facing north and east. The left photo was taken in June 2009 and the right photo was taken in October 2011. The white parts are places where the surface stone had peeled off or fallen. These pictures show that the surface area of the deteriorated parts rapidly increased in about 2 years. Fig. 3 shows the deterioration of the surface stone on the lower part of the column near the entrance. The right photo is an enlarged image of this part. The white part near the surface is where water repellent material penetrated, and the black part shows where it did not. On the surface of the upper part of this column, the trace of water fall is found. Water may penetrate into the stone through this deteriorated part, and the deterioration will continue due to the freeze and thaw cycles in the winter season [2]. Fig. 2 Deterioration of stone wall surface (left: June 2009, right: October 2011) Fig. 1 Nihon Yusen Building in Otaru Takeshi Ishizaki and Masazo Takami / Energy Procedia 78 ( 2015 ) 1371 – 1376 1373 On the whole part of the roof, abrasion due to the movement of snow and ice in winter was found. Corrosion of the metal roof was also found. This could be due to the sea breeze which contains salts from sea water. Fig. 4 shows the deterioration of the roof. The left photo shows the corrosion of metal near the junction between the roof and the gutter on the west side of the building. In winter, snow accumulates on this area, and melt water may leak through this part into the inside roof. The right photo shows the damage to a 45 x 60 cm area on the east side of the roof. When this part was observed on a rainy day, it was found that rain flew down from the damaged part. This is considered to be the source of the water that increases the water content of the stone of the side wall. 2.2. Deterioration of the inside walls The inside wall and wall paper were damaged by the water that penetrated through the roof as shown in the previous section. This leakage occurs during typhoon season and during the winter. The most damage was found from the middle of February to the end of March when the snow on the roof melts. Fig. 5 shows the blistering of the lime plaster surface. Cracks were also observed to appear in the lime plaster surface of the wall. Wall paper known as kinkarakawakami also deteriorated due to the penetration of rain water through the roof. In addition, fungi were found on the wall surface and color changes were observed on the ceiling. Fig. 3 Deterioration of stone wall surface (right: enlarged image) Fig. 4 Deterioration of the roof (left: corrosion of the metal at the junction of the roof and gutter; right: cracks in roof) Fig. 5 Blistering of the lime plaster wall surface 1374 Takeshi Ishizaki and Masazo Takami / Energy Procedia 78 ( 2015 ) 1371 – 1376 3. Temperature and humidity measurement In order to obtain data related to the number of freeze-thaw cycles that the outside stone wall undergoes, temperature data loggers were located on the outside walls facing north, east, south and west. The outside temperature and humidity were measured by a temperature and humidity data logger. Temperature and humidity data were also obtained inside of the building. These data were obtained every hour. Fig. 6 shows the locations of the temperature and humidity data loggers. Points labeled WallTN, WallTE, WallTS and WallTW shows the locations of temperature sensors on the outside wall facing north, east, south and west, respectively. The point labeled T&RH shows the location of the temperature and humidity data loggers for measuring the outside environment. The points labeled 1F1, 1F2 and 1F3 show the location of the temperature and humidity data loggers inside the building. Fig. 7 shows the temperature and humidity changes outside of the building over 3 years from 2008 to 2011. The lowest temperature was recorded at around -10 degrees Celsius in winter. In addition to the temperature and humidity measurements, the temperature profile of the wall surface was measured using a thermo viewer in March, 2009. The left photo in Fig. 8 shows the deterioration of the wall near the gutter under the roof. The right photo shows the temperature profile of the wall. The color of the location near the gutter under the roof shows that the temperature is low in this region. This temperature profile also shows that the water content in this area is higher than the surrounding region due to rain water penetration. Fig. 6 Locations of temperature and humidity data loggers Fig. 7 Temperature and humidity changes outside of the building (2008-2011) Fig. 8 Deterioration of stone wall surface (left) and the corresponding thermos viewer image (right) Takeshi Ishizaki and Masazo Takami / Energy Procedia 78 ( 2015 ) 1371 – 1376 1375 4. Cause of the deterioration of the wall Fig. 9 shows a schematic diagram of a cross-section of the lower part of the roof. As shown in the previous section, the damage to the roof and gutter is severe, and leakage of rain water through the roof occurred during rainy days and during the snow melt season. In the summer of 2010, Otaru city carried out temporary restoration work to cover the holes in the gutter. However, since this temporary restoration work was only done on limited areas, it was not a final solution to the problem of the leakage through the roof. In March 2011, the leaked rain water penetrated into rooms on the first floor. Some of the rain water and snow melt water that penetrated through the deck flows out from the eave ceiling, and the rest remains inside the deck and penetrates the stone walls, as indicated by the arrow in Fig. 9. It was considered that this leaked water penetrated into the stone wall. In winter, the surface stone was subjected to freeze and thaw cycles. Since the water content of the stone wall was high, ice lens segregated inside the stone wall, which resulted in severe damage to the surface stone wall [3]. We found cracks at the borders between places where water repellent material had penetrated and where it had not. This shows that the water repellent materials are not effective when water flows from inside of the stone wall. 5. Protective measures The previous restoration was carried out about 30 years ago. In the restoration, water repellent materials were applied to the surface of the stone wall to prevent rain water penetration. However, as shown in the previous section, the rain water penetrated through the roof to the stone wall. In order to prevent this penetration of rain water, it is necessary to check the present condition of the roof and repair it and to increase the roof’s water tightness. It has been reported that frost damage increases as the water content of the stone increases. Therefore, it is necessary to reduce the water content of the stone wall to prevent frost damage. 6. Conclusions We studied the deterioration of historic buildings and their environmental conditions in Otaru and Sapporo city. Our observation of the historic Nihon Yusen Building revealed that the main cause of the deterioration of the stone wall of the building was frost damage. At the previous restoration carried out about 30 years ago, water repellent materials were applied to the stone wall to prevent rain water penetration. However, the water content of the stone wall increased due to the penetration of rain water through the roof. The stone wall was subjected to the freeze and thaw cycle and severely damaged. In order to prevent frost damage, it is necessary to reduce the water content of the stone wall by increasing water tightness of the roof of this building. The restoration work of 30 years ago in which water repellent material was applied to the stone wall could be appropriate for preventing rain water penetration from the outside. However, this method was not appropriate when the water penetrated from inside the stone wall as shown in this paper. Fig. 9 Schematic diagram of a cross-section of the lower part of the roof. 1376 Takeshi Ishizaki and Masazo Takami / Energy Procedia 78 ( 2015 ) 1371 – 1376 Acknowledgements We would like to express our sincere gratitude to Mr. Satoshi Ishigami of Otaru City for his support of our study of the historic Nihon Yusen Building. References [1] Otaru city. Report of conservation and restoration work of important cultural property, Otaru Branch of Kyu Nihon Yusen Building; 1987, pp.402 in Japanese [2] Takami, M. and Ishizaki, T, Deterioration of the Building materials of Otaru Branch of Kyu Nihon Yusen Building and Its Protective Measures; Science of Conservation, National Research Institute for Cultural Properties, No.51, Tokyo, 2012, p. 77-95 in Japanese [3] M. Fukuda, Rock weathering by freezing-thawing cycles, Low temperature science. Series A, Physical sciences, Vol. 32, 1974, p.243-249. in Japanese. 
work_szohlnsamrhhxbhmefpvms4kim	----	02_Tomaszewicz_probka.indd 2015 2(42) DOI: 10.5277/arc150202 Agnieszka Tomaszewicz* Carl Lüdecke i wrocławskie budownictwo mieszkaniowe Carl Lüdecke and dwelling-houses in Wrocław Carl Lüdecke1 należał do grona najważniejszych archi- tektów XIX-wiecznego Wrocławia, uważano nawet, że [...] stworzył we Wrocławiu budowle takiej klasy i w takiej liczbie, że jego imię ma na zawsze zapewnione jedno z naj- bardziej honorowych miejsc w historii architektury mia- sta2 [2, s. 7]. Wśród najbardziej znanych wrocławskich dzieł artysty wymienia się zwykle: gmach Nowej Giełdy [3], frontową część Dworca Świebodzkiego [4], budynki w ogrodzie zoologicznym [5], a także koncepcję odbudo- wy Teatru Miejskiego po pożarze z 1865 r. [6] oraz projek- ty rewaloryzacji staromiejskiego ratusza i kated ry św. Jana Chrzciciela. Tymczasem Lüdecke zaprojekto wał też kilka miejskich domów mieszkalnych, wzniesionych zarówno w za - budowie zwartej, jak i otwartej. Projekty wspomnia nych domów powstały głównie w latach 50. i 60. XIX w., a więc w pierwszym okresie wrocławskiej twórczości artysty. Najwcześniejszą koncepcję kamienicy Lüdecke opra- cował w 1858 r. na zlecenie kupca Nathana Arona. Dom * Wydział Architektury Politechniki Wrocławskiej/Faculty of Architecture, Wrocław University of Technology. 1 W 1976 r. Profesor Janusz Dobesz obronił pracę doktorską zaty- tułowaną: Nurty architektury 2. połowy XIX wieku w twórczości Karola Lü deckego [1], która zawierała eseje dotyczące życia architekta i wybra- nych aspektów jego działalności zawodowej. Szczegółowo zostały wów- czas omówione budowle sakralne, użyteczności publicznej, wiejskie rezydencje oraz pomniki zaprojektowane przez Lüdeckego. Niniejszy artykuł stanowi próbę przedstawienia niewielkiej grupy w większości nieopisanych dotąd wrocławskich dzieł architekta, a mianowicie domów mieszkalnych. Dodatkowy impuls do napisania tego tekstu stano wiło od nalezienie przedruków wykładów Lüdeckego, w których ar tys ta przed- stawił swoje stanowisko m.in. w kwestii stylów w architekturze. 2 Er hat hier in Breslau Bauwerke solcher Art und in solcher Zahl geschaffen, dass seinem Namen für alle Zeit einer der ehrenvollsten Plätze in der Baugeschichte der Stadt gesichert ist [2, s. 7]. Carl Lüdecke1 was one of the most important archi- tects of the 19th-century Wrocław, he was even consi- dered to [...] have created in Wrocław structures of such a class and in such a number that his name would always be remembered as one of the most remarkable names in the architectural history of the city2 [2, p. 7]. The most renowned Wrocław works of the artist are the following: Nowa Giełda (New Stock Exchange) Edi fi ce [3], the front part of Świebodzki Railway Station [4], buildings in the zoological garden [5], a concept of the City Theatre restoration after the 1865 fi re [6] as well as restoration projects of the Old Town Hall and John the Baptist Cathedral. Meanwhile Lüdecke also designed several urban residential houses which were built both in compact and open developments. Designs of the above mentioned houses were mainly carried out in the 50s and 60s of the 19th century, i.e. in the fi rst period of the ar- tist’s Wrocław artistic creativity. 1 In 1976 Professor Janusz Dobesz defended his doctoral thesis entitled: Nurty architektury 2. połowy XIX wieku w twórczości Karola Lüdeckego (Trends in architecture of the second half of the 19th century in Carl Lüdecke’s works) [1], which contained essays on the life of the architect and certain chosen aspects of his professional activity. Sacral structures, public buildings, country residences and monuments designed by Lüdecke were discussed there in a detailed way. This article is an attempt at presenting a small group of mostly previously non-discussed Wrocław works of the architect, namely residential houses. An addi- tional stimulus to write this text was a retrieval of Lüdecke’s lecture reprints, in which the artist presented his attitude, inter alia, towards styles in architecture. 2 Er hat hier in Breslau Bauwerke solcher Art und in solcher Zahl geschaffen, dass seinem Namen für alle Zeit einer der ehrenvollsten Plätze in der Baugeschichte der Stadt gesichert ist [2, p. 7]. 8 Agnieszka Tomaszewicz miał zostać wzniesiony przy ul. Kazimierza Wielkiego 31 (Carlstr. 31) na miejscu wcześniejszej budowli zajmującej wąską działkę w zwartym ciągu zabudowy. Lüdecke za- projektował trzyosiową, czterokondygnacyjną kamienicę wypełniającą niemal całą niewielką posesję; jednak nie tylko kształt działki, ale również potrzeby inwestora zde- terminowały sposób rozwiązania rzutu budynku – w piwni- cach architekt umieścił magazyny towarów sprzedawanych w sklepie urządzonym na parterze domu, trzy wyższe kon- dygnacje zajmowały mieszkania do wynajęcia. Koncepcja domu nie została zatwierdzona przez urzędników Poli cji Budowlanej, Lüdecke musiał obniżyć budynek o jedną kondygnację3, w nowym projekcie architekt utrzymał jed- nak zaplanowaną wcześniej dyspozycję wnętrz (il. 1a). Dwa lata później, w 1861 r. Eduard Ostwald powierzył Lüdeckemu przygotowanie koncepcji zabudowy trud- nej, bardzo wąskiej i głębokiej działki położonej u zbie- gu ul. Świdnickiej (Schweidnitzerstr.) i Franciszkańskiej (An der Dorotheenkirche), tuż przy kościele św. Doroty. Ostwald – kupiec handlujący winem – planował urządzić w kamienicy restaurację, sklepy, mieszkanie własne i lo- kale do wynajęcia. Lüdecke zaproponował podział budyn- ku na dwie części obsługiwane dwiema klatkami schodo- wymi, które zostały umieszczone w ciemnym trakcie przy ścianie szczytowej sąsiedniej kamienicy (il. 1b). Na parte- rze, w głębi działki, wzdłuż ul. Franciszkańskiej architekt urządził pomieszczenia restauracyjne, oddzielone biurami od lokali handlowych usytuowanych od strony ul. Świd- nickiej. W piwnicy zaprojektowano kuchnię i inne po- mieszczenia pomocnicze restauracji, a także pralnię, służ- bówki i niewielkie składy należące do sklepu i mieszkań dochodowych usytuowanych na drugim i trzecim piętrze budynku. Każde mieszkanie składało się z amfi lady czte- rech lub pięciu pokoi poprowadzonych wzdłuż ulic oraz 3 W okresie powojennym kamienicę rozbudowano w partii dachu, w 2014 r. przeszła gruntowny remont. The earliest tenement house concept was developed by Lüdecke in 1858 commissioned by Nathan Aron who was a merchant. The house was to be constructed at 31 Ka zimierza Wielkiego Street (Carlstr. 31) on the site of the previous building occupying a narrow plot of land in the form of a compact deve lopment. Lüdecke designed a three-axis, four-storey te nement house which occupied almost the entire small property; however, not only did the shape of the plot determine the way of solving the build- ing plan but also the needs of the investor – in the base- ment the architect placed warehouses of goods sold in the shop which was arranged on the ground fl oor of the house, whereas three upper fl oors were occupied by fl ats for rent. The house concept was not accepted by the offi cials of the Construction Police and Lüdecke had to lower the build- ing by one storey3, however, in the new design the archi- tect kept a pre-planned interior disposition (Fig. 1a). Two years later in 1861 Eduard Ostwald entrusted Lü- decke with the task of preparing a concept of developing a diffi cult, very narrow and deep plot of land located at the junction of Świdnicka Street (Schweidnitzerstr.) and Franciszkańska Street (An der Dorotheenkirche) just next to the St. Dorothy Church. Ostwald – a merchant selling wine – planned to arrange a restaurant, shops, his own apartment and fl ats for rent in this tenement house. Lü- decke proposed the division of the building into two parts supported by two staircases which were placed in the dark part near the gable wall of the neighbouring tene- ment house (Fig. 1b). On the ground fl oor, in the deep part of the plot along Franciszkańska Street the architect arranged restaurant rooms separated from commercial rooms located on the side of Świdnicka Street by means of offi ces. The kitchen and other restaurant facilities were designed in the basement as well as a laundry, a maid’s 3 In the postwar period the tenement house was extended in the roof part and in 2014 it underwent thorough restoration. Il. 1. Carl Lüdecke, rysunki rzutów kamienic wzniesionych przy: a) ul. Kazimierza Wielkiego 31 (MA/ABmW., t. 2167), b) ul. Świdnickiej (d. Schweidnitzerstr. 19, MA/ABmW., t. 4031) Fig. 1. Carl Lüdecke, projection drawings of tenement houses built at: a) 31 Kazimierza Wielkiego Street (MA/ABmW., t. 2167), b) Świdnicka Street (Schweidnitzerstr. 19, MA/ABmW., t. 4031) a b Carl Lüdecke i wrocławskie budownictwo mieszkaniowe /Carl Lüdecke and dwelling-houses in Wrocław 9 kuchni i służbówki wyodrębnionej z szerokości korytarza. Zarówno korytarze, jak i kuchnie umieszczone w trakcie tylnym budynku zostały oświetlone niewielkimi dziedziń- cami doświetlającymi. Pierwsze piętro kamienicy zajmo- wało mieszkanie właściciela, jedynie dwa pomieszczenia wzdłuż ul. Świdnickiej, połączone z pokojem od strony ul. Franciszkańskiej, przeznaczono na cele handlowe4. W 1870 r. po przeciwnej stronie ul. Świdnickiej Lü- de cke zaprojektował dla Juliusa Neugebauera budynek han dlowo-mieszkaniowy, w którym zastosował schemat rzu tu poziomego najczęściej spotykany w kamienicach sy tuowa nych na wąskich i głębokich działkach Starego Mia sta. W ciemnym trakcie środkowym budynku archi- tekt usy tuo wał oświetloną od góry klatkę schodową oraz „gabinet” i ze spół pomieszczeń pomocniczych – dzięki temu jas ne trakty zewnętrzne mogły zająć pokoje miesz- kalne (od strony ulicy) i sypialnie (od strony podwórza). Do dat ko we po ko je sypialne oraz kuchnię umieszczono w głębi, w skrzyd łach otaczających wewnętrzne podwór- ko. Tak jak w więk szoś ci kamienic o funkcji mieszanej (handlowo-mieszkanio wej) parter i trakt frontowy pierw- szego piętra zajęły lokale han dlowe i biurowe, a pozo- stałą powierzchnię pierwszego piętra oraz dwie kolejne kondyg nacje – mieszkania5. W większości projektów budynków mieszkalnych Lü - decke próbował dostosować układ wnętrz do ksztatu dział - ki i potrzeb inwestora, tymczasem w kamienicy op ra co - wa nej w 1863 r. dla Heinricha Karutha architekt za sto so wał typowy, „berliński” szablon rzutu, który pozwa lał maksy- malnie wykorzystać powierzchnię posesji. Nieistniejący dziś dom wzniesiony przy ul. Legnickiej (Berlinerstr. 5) został złożony z budynku frontowego połączonego z dwo- ma skrzydłami bocznymi, które architekt zamknął skrzy- dłem poprzecznym poprowadzonym wzdłuż tylnej grani- cy działki. Pomieszczenia w ofi cynie oświetlono jedynie od strony wewnętrznego dziedzińca. Warto wspomnieć, że Lüdecke projektował również licz - ne przebudowy miejskich domów mieszkalnych, w któ rych najczęściej usprawniał komunikację pionową, zmie niał uk - ład wnętrz lub aranżował lokale użytkowe. Nie zależnie jed- nak od ukształtowania przestrzennego budynku elewacje do mów projektowanych przez Lüdeckego miały zbliżoną kom pozycję i jednorodne stylistycznie formy dekoracji. Poglądy architekta dotyczące wyboru form stylowych są znane dzięki przedrukowi wykładu zatytułowanego W kwestii stylu współczesnych budowli i rzemiosła arty- stycznego (Zur Stylfrage bei Bauten und Kunstwerken der Jetztzeit), który Lüdecke wygłosił w 1859 r. na forum Sek- cji Technicznej Śląskiego Towarzystwa Kultury Ojczystej [7]. Poruszając temat stylu w architekturze, artysta wziął udział w ogólnoniemieckiej debacie, którą zapoczątko- wał w 1828 r. Heinrich Hübsch tekstem zatytułowanym W jakim stylu powinniśmy budować? (Im welchem Style sollen wir bauen?). Z wystąpienia Lüdeckego wynika, że 4 Budynek został zniszczony w czasie działań wojennych, dziś na jego miejscu znajduje się dom handlowy Solpol I. 5 W 1915 r. kamienicę wyburzono, a na jej miejscu wzniesiono zachowaną do dziś siedzibę firmy odzieżowej M. Königsberger u. Ernst Engel, którą zaprojektowali Richard i Paul Ehrlichowie. room, small warehouses belonging to the shop and profi t- yielding apartments located on the second and third fl oor of the building. Each apartment consisted of an enfi lade consisting of four or fi ve rooms aligned with each other along the streets as well as a kitchen and a maid’s room separated from the width of the corridor. Both the hall- ways and kitchens situated in the rear part of the building were illuminated by means of small courtyards providing additional light. The fi rst fl oor of the tenement house was occupied by the owner’s apartment and only two rooms along Świdnicka Street which were connected with the room on the side of Franciszkańska Street were allocated for commercial purposes4. In 1870 on the opposite side of Świdnicka Street, Lüdecke designed a commercial and residential building for Julius Neugebauer, in which he used a horizontal pro- jection scheme that was most commonly seen in tenement houses situated on narrow and deep plots of the Old Town. In the central dark part of the building the architect si- tuated a staircase illuminated from the top as well as an “offi ce room” and a complex of facility rooms due to which lighter external parts could be occupied by living rooms (from the street side) and bedrooms (from the yard side). Additional bedrooms and a kitchen were located deep in the wings surrounding the internal courtyard. As in most tenement houses with mixed functions (commer- cial and residential), the ground fl oor and the front part of the fi rst fl oor were occupied by offi ces and commercial rooms, whereas the remaining area of the fi rst fl oor and the two successive fl oors were occupied by apartments5. In most of the residential building designs Lüdecke tried to adapt the arrangement of the interiors to the shape of the plot and the investor’s needs, whereas in the tene- ment house designed for Heinrich Karuth in 1863, the ar- chitect applied a typical “Berlin” projection template that allowed the maximum use of the property’s area. A house non-existing today which was built at 5 Legnicka Street (Berlinerstr. 5) consisted of the front building connected with two side wings, which the architect closed by means of a transverse wing running along the rear border of the plot. The rooms in the annex were illuminated only from the internal courtyard. It is worth mentioning that Lüdecke also designed numerous reconstructions of urban residential houses in which he improved the vertical communication, changed the interior layout or arranged commercial rooms. How- ever, regardless of the spatial shape of the building, fa- cades of buildings designed by Lüdecke had a similar com - position and stylistically homogenous forms of decoration. The architect’s views regarding the selection of style forms are well known due to the lecture reprint entitled On the contemporary building style and applied arts (Zur Stylfrage bei Bauten und Kunstwerken der Jetztzeit), which was delivered by Lüdecke at the forum of the Tech- 4 The building was destroyed during the war and now there is a department store Solpol I in this place. 5 In 1915 the tenement house was demolished and in its place M. Königsberger u. Ernst Engel clothing company seat was built, which survived till today; it was designed by Richard and Paul Ehrlich. 10 Agnieszka Tomaszewicz artysta nie dawał pierwszeństwa żadnemu z obowiązują- cych w historyzmie stylów. Przedstawiał ich wady i zalety z punktu widzenia projektującego architekta, który dobie- rał styl do konkretnego zadania projektowego. Postawę tę inspirowało zapewne stanowisko Gottfrieda Sempera, który analizując w swoich publikacjach style historyczne, wyod- rębnił jednostkowe „typy budowli” – ich formę określały: materiał, konstrukcja i cel, jakiemu obiekt służył. Wydaje się, że Lüdecke oceniał styl przede wszystkim ze względu na jego przydatność konstrukcyjną. W gotyku, wzorując się zapewne na pismach Wilhelma Lübkego, Lüdecke zwra- cał uwagę na [...] zadziwiającą i wspaniałą konsekwencję [kształtowania] organizmu budowli6 [7, s. 214]. Architekt na drugim planie pozostawiał kwestie ideowe. W przeci- wieństwie do romantyków, upatrujących w gotyku – stylu „germańskim” – symbolu chrześcijaństwa i niemieckiej historii [8, s. 208 i n.], Lüdecke dowodził, że określenie to może wydawać się uzasadnione [...] jeśli będzie się [je] pojmować w tym znaczeniu, że Niemcy wprowadzili styl łuku ostrego w dużych dziełach najbardziej konsekwentnie i w naj bardziej logicznym, całościowym systemie, wobec częs to słabych form francuskich czy angielskich7 [7, s. 214]. Architekt ganił stosowanie jednej tylko wybranej sty- listyki do wszystkich zadań projektowych. O ile gotyk spraw dzał się, jego zdaniem, w obiektach o dużej skali, o tyle nie powinno się go stosować w budowlach o niewiel- kich rozmiarach, a szczególnie w rzemiośle artystycznym, dla którego najwłaściwszy wydawał mu się „tektonicz- ny” klasycyzm oparty na antyku. Moim zda niem – pisał Lüdecke – są ściśle określone obszary [sto sowania] dwóch głównych rodzajów stylu w różnych gru pach zadań. Ko- ścioły, budynki parlamentów i ratuszy, w ogóle większość budowli publicznych i większych pałaców będzie się bu- dować w stylu gotyckim, w stylu, który umożliwia two- rzenie dużych pomieszczeń, a szczególnie sklepionych sal najpewniej, najwspanialej i najozdobniej. Do innych bu dowli cywilnych, a zwłaszcza domów mie szkalnych, za leca się renesans8 [7, s. 317]. Przytoczona wypowiedź wska zuje podstawę, na której architekt wybudował swój system wartości estetycznych – była nią zapewne doktry- na artystyczna Wilhelma Stiera. Wilhelm Stier kształtował swoje poglądy estetyczne podczas studiów w Paryżu (1820–1821) i kilkuletniego pobytu we Włoszech (1822–1827), gdzie prowadził bada- nia nad antycznym budownictwem mieszkaniowym. Stier 6 [...] wunderbare und großartige Konsequenz in dem Organismus der Bauten [7, s. 214]. 7 Wenn man die Bezeichnung „germanisch” aber in dem Sinne auffassen will, das die Deutschen den Styl des Spitzbogens in großen Werken am konsequentesten und in dem vollständigsten folgerichtigsten Systeme durchgeführt haben, den oft flauen Formen Frankreichs und Englands gegenüber, so mag die Bezeichnung gerechtfertigt erscheinen [7, s. 214]. 8 Meiner Meinung nach gibt es [...] ganz bestimmte Ressorts der 2 Hauptstylarten für die verschiedenen Gruppen von Aufgaben. Kirchen, Parlaments- und Rathhäuser, überhaupt die Mehrzahl der öffentlichen Gebäude und größeren Paläste wird man am besten im gotischen Style bauen, dem Style, der große Räume und Säle, besonders mit Wölbdecken am sichersten, großartigsten und zierlichsten zugleich herzustellen ver- mag. Für andere profane Bauen und für das private Wohnhaus nament- lich empfiehlt sich die Renaissance [7, s. 317]. nical Section of the Silesian Association of Native Culture in 1859 [7]. While dealing with the issue of style in archi- tecture, the artist took part in the German nationwide de- bate that was begun in 1828 by Heinrich Hübsch with the text entitled In what style should we build? (Im welchem Style sollen wir bauen?). Analysing Lüdecke’s speech, it can be concluded that the artist did not give a priority to any of the styles existing in historicism. He presented their advantages and disadvantages from the point of view of a designing architect who chose a style for a specifi c design task. This attitude was certainly inspired by Got- tfried Semper’s approach who, by analyzing historical styles in his publications, distinguished individual “types of buildings” – their forms were determined by the materi- al, structure and purpose of a given structure. It seems that Lüdecke evaluated a given style fi rst of all due to its struc- tural usefulness. In Gothic, following undoubtedly Wil- helm Lübke’s writings, Lüdecke paid attention to [...] the amazing and excellent consequence [of shaping] a build- ing’s body6 [7, p. 214]. The architect left ideological issues in the background. Unlike the romantics who saw in the Gothic – a “German” style – a symbol of Christianity and the German history [8, p. 208 and next], Lüdecke proved that this term may have seemed reasonable [...] if [they are] understood in the sense that the Germans introduced an acute arch style in large works most consequently and in the most logical, comprehensive system in comparison to often weak French or English forms7 [7, p. 214]. The architect dispraised the usage of only one stylistics for all design tasks. Providing Gothic, in his view, perfor- med well in large scale buildings, however, it should not be applied in small-size buildings, particularly in applied art for which “tectonic” classicism based on antiquity seemed to be the most appropriate. In my opinion – wrote Lüdecke – there are strictly defi ned areas of [applying] two main kinds of style in different groups of tasks. Churches, build- ings of parliaments and town halls, in general, most of the public buildings and bigger palaces will be built in the Gothic style, in a style that allows creation of large rooms, in particular vaulted halls in the most excellent, decorative and surest way. Renaissance is recommended for other civil buildings, especially residential houses8 [7, p. 317]. The quoted statement indicates the basis on which the architect built his system of aesthetic values – it was undoubtedly a William Stier’s artistic doctrine. 6 [...] wunderbare und großartige Konsequenz in dem Organismus der Bauten [7, p. 214]. 7 Wenn man die Bezeichnung “germanisch” aber in dem Sinne auffassen will, das die Deutschen den Styl des Spitzbogens in großen Werken am konsequentesten und in dem vollständigsten folgerichtigsten Systeme durchgeführt haben, den oft flauen Formen Frankreichs und Englands gegenüber, so mag die Bezeichnung gerechtfertigt erscheinen [7, p. 214]. 8 Meiner Meinung nach gibt es [...] ganz bestimmte Ressorts der 2 Hauptstylarten für die verschiedenen Gruppen von Aufgaben. Kirchen, Parlaments- und Rathhäuser, überhaupt die Mehrzahl der öffentlichen Gebäude und größeren Paläste wird man am besten im gotischen Style bauen, dem Style, der große Räume und Säle, besonders mit Wölbdecken am sichersten, großartigsten und zierlichsten zugleich herzustellen ver- mag. Für andere profane Bauen und für das private Wohnhaus nament- lich empfiehlt sich die Renaissance [7, p. 317]. Carl Lüdecke i wrocławskie budownictwo mieszkaniowe /Carl Lüdecke and dwelling-houses in Wrocław 11 uważał, że antyk i renesans, rozumiany jako jego kontynu- acja, powinny stanowić podstawę współczesnej mu sztuki budowlanej, czytelną zwłaszcza, jak mówił, w kształto- waniu [...] pałaców, miejskich domów mieszkalnych i sie- dzib wiejskich [cyt. za: 9, s. 333]. Domy miejskie służące zarówno celom merkantylnym, jak i mie szkaniowym, dla których nie można znaleźć wzorców w an tycznej archi- tekturze greckiej, powinny być, zdaniem Stiera, [...] pod- porządkowane starorzymskiemu stylowi budowla nemu albo też bezpośrednio stylowemu piętnu włoskiej szkoły budowlanej 9 [cyt. za: 9, s. 333]. Elewacje frontowe do- mów miejskich wznoszonych w zabudowie zwartej wy- magały, według Stiera, [...] jaśniejszego wyrazu estetyki detalu [...] niż daje to grecka sztuka budowlana10 [cyt. za: 9, s. 333]. Architekt zachęcał do projektowania domów z [...] pewnym kosmopolitycznym brakiem charakteru, jako towaru dla wszystkich, wychodzącego spod fabrycz- nego stempla11 [cyt. za: 9, s. 333]. Swoje przemyślenia Stier przekazywał studentom Aka- demii Budownictwa w Berlinie, gdzie od roku 1828 pro- wadził „Projektowanie i rysowanie budowli” oraz wykłady z historii architektury, a od roku 1829 – ćwiczenia „Form architektury antycznej” [10, s. 19]. Był przy tym uważa- ny za wykładowcę nowoczesnego, ponie waż w swo ich wystąpieniach przedstawiał nie tylko zabytki sztuki an- tycznej, ale również dokonania mistrzów śred nio wiecza [11, s. 343]. Z pluralizmem stylowym głoszonym przez Stiera Lüdecke zapoznał się w czasie studiów, któ re odbył w berlińskiej szkole architektury w latach 1846–184912 [12, s. 3]. Akademia Budownictwa ukształtowała poglądy estetyczne Lüdeckego, architekt dostrzegał jednak man- kamenty obowiązującego tam systemu nau czania. Uwa- żał, że za mało czasu poświęcano ćwicze niom rysowania elementów konstrukcyjnych i ornamentów sztuki średnio- wiecza, czego negatywne skutki odczuł, jak twierdził, rów nież we własnej praktyce [7, s. 216]. Jako jeden z nielicznych twórców Lüdecke zwracał uwagę na ograniczenia w wyborze stylu budowli, będące kon sek wencją obowiązujących ustaw budowlanych [7, s. 215]. Architekt zapewne zgadzał się z wizją ulicy miej- skiej przedstawioną przez Ungewittera na stronie tytułowej zbioru Projektów domów miejskich i wiejskich, na której po ka zano budowle mieszkalne o malarsko rozluźnionej bry le, urozmaiconej charakterystycznymi dla średniowie- cza motywami – szczytami, wieżami i wykuszami [14]. Uwa żał jednak, że prawo budowlane nie pozwala projek- tować budynków mieszkalnych na wzór gotyckich domów wrocławskich patrycjuszy. Określenie maksymalnej liczby kondygnacji i wysokości domu miejskiego uniemożliwia - ło projektowanie szczytów, a do roku 1864 nie wolno było stosować w budynkach mieszkalnych wykuszy i wież. Wy- 9 [...] des altrömischen Baustyles unterzuordnen oder auch gerade den Stylgepräge der italienischen Bauschulen [cyt. za: 9, s. 333]. 10 [...] einen grelleren Ausdruck (des) ästhetischen Details [...] als die griechische Baukunst gewährt [cyt. za: 9, s. 333]. 11 [...] ein gewissen kosmopolitischen Characterlosigkeit: als Ware für alle unter einem Fabrikstempel geprägt [cyt. za: 9, s. 333]. 12 Lüdecke należał też do Związku Studentów „Motiv” (Studenten- verein „Motiv”), założonego przez Stiera w 1847 r. [13, s. 2, 3]. William Stier shaped his aesthetic views during his studies in Paris (1820–1821) and a several-year stay in Ita ly (1822–1827), where he carried out research on an- cient residential development. Stier believed that anti- quity and the Renaissance, understood as its continuation, should constitute the basis of contemporary construction art, particularly clear, as he said, in shaping [...] pala ces, town residential houses and rural residences [quoted in: 9, p. 333]. According to Stier, town houses for both mercantile and housing purposes, for which patterns in the ancient Greek architecture cannot be found, should be [...] subordinated to the ancient Roman construction style or directly to the stylish mark of the Italian construc- tion school 9 [quoted in: 9, p. 333]. Front facades of ur- ban houses built in the compact development required, acco r ding to Stier, [...] a clearer expression of the aes- thetic detail [...] than it is in the case of Greek construc- tion art 10 [quoted in: 9, p. 333]. The architect encouraged designing houses with [...] a certain cosmopolitan lack of character as a product for everyone marked with a factory stamp11 [quoted in: 9, p. 333]. Stier shared his thoughts with the students of the Aca- demy of Construction in Berlin where he conducted “Design ing and drawing constructions” classes and gave lectures on the history of architecture since 1828, whereas since 1829 he conducted “Ancient architecture forms” classes [10, p. 19]. At the same time he was considered to be a modern teacher because in his speeches he presented not only monuments of ancient art but also achievements of masters of the Middle Ages [11, p. 343]. Lüdecke be- came acquainted with stylish pluralism proclaimed by Stier during his studies in the Berlin school of architec- ture in the years 1846–184912 [12, p. 3]. The Academy of Construction shaped Lüdecke’s aesthetic views, however, the architect saw some shortcomings of the existing edu- cational system there. He believed that not enough time was devoted to classes in drawing structural elements and ornaments of art of the Middle Ages, the negative effects of which he felt, as he claimed, even in his own practice [7, p. 216]. As one of a few artists Lüdecke drew attention to the limitations in choosing a building style, which resulted from construction laws in force at that time [7, p. 215]. The architect undoubtedly agreed with a vision of the ur- ban street presented by Ungewitter on the title page of the collection of Projects of urban and rural houses, where residential buildings with artistically relaxed shapes di- versifi ed with motifs characteristic of the Middle Ages – gables, turrets and bay windows were shown [14]. He be- lieved, however, that the construction law did not permit designing residential buildings based on Gothic Wrocław 9 [...] des altrömischen Baustyles unterzuordnen oder auch gerade den Stylgepräge der italienischen Bauschulen [quoted in: 9, p. 333]. 10 [...] einen grelleren Ausdruck (des) ästhetischen Details [...] als die griechische Baukunst gewährt [quoted in: 9, p. 333]. 11 [...] ein gewissen kosmopolitischen Characterlosigkeit: als Ware für alle unter einem Fabrikstempel geprägt [quoted in: 9, p. 333]. 12 Lüdecke also belonged to “Motiv” Student Association (Studen- tenverein “Motiv”) established by Stier in 1847 [13, pp. 2, 3]. 12 Agnieszka Tomaszewicz bór klasycyzmu i form renesansowych do projektowania za- budowy mieszkaniowej Lüdecke uzasadniał zatem nie tylko kwestiami ideowymi, ale również prozaiczną koniecznoś- cią dostosowania projektu do wymogów prawnych. Środowisko akademików berlińskich miało decydują- cy wpływ na poglądy Lüdeckego dotyczące sztuki deko- rowania budowli i rękodzieła, które architekt przedstawił w cyklu wykładów wygłoszonych w 1860 r. na forum Wro - cławskiego Związku Rzemiosła [15]. W swoich roz wa ża - niach artysta odwoływał się do podstawowych pryn cy piów sztuki klasycznej – eurytmii i symetrii, przedsta wia jąc właś ciwie witruwiańską koncepcję piękna. Wy cho dząc od Wi truwiusza, Lüdecke naszkicował etapy roz wo ju pod sta- wowych ornamentów stosowanych w antycz nej ar chi tek- turze sakralnej – zilustrował przy tym swo ją wypo wiedź rysunkami zaczerpniętymi z Tektoniki Helle nów (Die Tek- tonik der Hellenen) Carla Böttichera. Bötticher, który od 1839 r. uczył w berlińskiej Akademii Budownictwa rysunku odręcznego i ornamentyki, przyjął w swoim głównym dziele teoretycznym, że forma podzia- łów architektonicznych greckich budowli odzwierciedla przejrzystość kompozycji i logikę ich konstrukcji. Ele- menty dekoracyjne były dla Böttichera [...] jedynie sym- bolicznym wyrazem funkcji konstrukcyjnych [16, s. XV], miały za zadanie pokazywać powiązania między częścia- mi budynku. Mimo że Lüdecke nie zgadzał się z surowym i dogmatycznym klasycyzmem Böttichera i zarzucał mu niemożność zrozumienia celowości konstrukcji budowli średniowiecznych ze względu na brak praktyki projek- towej [7, s. 215], to jednak elewacje miejskich domów mieszkalnych komponował w sposób „tektoniczny”, choć wzbogacony elementami o renesansowej proweniencji. Lüdecke projektował trzy- lub czteropiętrowe domy miejskie, a ich elewacjom frontowym nadawał trójdziel- ną kompozycję. Parter kamienic architekt rozwiązywał w formie cokołów dźwigających szerokie belkowanie, na którym „ustawiał” wyższe kondygnacje. Cokół budynku „wzmacniało” boniowanie, w węższych kamienicach ko- lejne piętra „podpierały” pilastry, między nimi projekto- wano zaś otwory okienne i drzwiowe. Parter i piano nobile rozdzielało belkowanie, którego gzyms stanowił zazwy- czaj podokiennik okien pierwszego piętra. Piano nobile wyróżniała bogatsza forma klasycznie obramionych okien, w budynkach czterokondygnacyjnych było ono zdobione tak jak kolejna, wyższa kondygnacja, co równoważyło wartość obu środkowych pięter. Ostatnia kondygnacja, oddzielona od pozostałych gzymsem, miała najczęściej mocno uproszczone formy dekoracji – wyżej biegł mocny, „antyczny” gzyms zamykający całą kompozycję. Lüde cke kształtował fasady domów miejskich zgodnie z zasadą ho- ryzontalnego trójpodziału, który jednak kontrował elemen- tami pionowymi. Architekt uważał bowiem, że [...] kontrast dodaje życia każdemu dziełu sztuki13 [15, No 9, s. 66]. W kamienicy Ostwalda poziome belkowania wspierały pi las try, które dodatkowo wzmacniały optycznie krańce fasady, a od strony ul. Franciszkańskiej markowały po- 13 Der Kontrast verleiht jedem Kunstwerke rechtes Leben [15, No 9, s. 66]. patrician house models. Specifying the maximum number of fl oors and the height of the urban house made it impos- sible to design gables and till 1864 it was forbidden to use bay windows and towers in residential buildings. The choice of classicism and Renaissance forms to design res- idential developments was justifi ed by Lüdecke not only in terms of ideological issues but also in terms of a prosaic need to adapt a design to legal requirements. The Berlin academic environment had a decisive in- fl uence on Lüdecke’s views as regards art of decorating buildings and handicrafts, which the architect presented in a series of lectures delivered at the forum of Wrocław Handicraft Association in 1860 [15]. In his refl ections the artist referred to the basic principles of classical art – eur- hythmics and symmetry, showing properly a Vitruvian concept of beauty. Starting from Vitruvius, Lüdecke sket- ched the stages of development of the basic ornaments applied in ancient sacral architecture – he also illustrated his statement with drawings taken from Die Tektonik der Hellenen by Carl Bötticher. Bötticher, who since 1839 taught freehand drawing and ornamentation at the Berlin Academy of Construction, in his main theoretical work assumed that the form of ar- chitectural divisions in Greek buildings refl ects the clar- ity and logic of their structures. Decorative elements were for Bötticher [...] only a symbolic expression of structural functions [16, p. XV] and they were supposed to show re- lationships between parts of a building. Although Lüdecke disagreed with the severe and dogmatic Bötticher’s classi- cism and accused him of being unable to understand the purposefulness of medieval building structures due to the lack of design practice [7, p. 215], he designed facades of urban residential houses in a “tectonic” way, however, enriched with elements of Renaissance provenance. Lüdecke designed three- or four-storey town houses having front facades with a tripartite composition. The architect solved the ground fl oor of tenement houses in the form of plinths carrying broad entablature on which he “placed” higher fl oors. The plinth of the building was “strengthened” by rustication; in the narrower houses the subsequent fl oors were “supported” by pilasters, whereas window and door openings were designed between them. The ground fl oor and piano nobile were separated by en- tablature whose cornice usually constituted a windowsill of the fi rst fl oor windows. The piano nobile was distin- guished by a richer form of classically framed windows and in four-storey buildings it was decorated like another higher fl oor, which balanced the value of the two middle fl oors. The last storey, separated from other fl oors by means of a cornice, most often had highly simplifi ed forms of decoration – above there was a strong “ancient” cornice closing the entire composition. Lüdecke shaped facades of urban houses according to the principle of the horizon- tal tripartite division, which, however, he countered with vertical elements. The architect believed that [...] con- trast adds life to every work of art13 [15, No 9, p. 66]. 13 Der Kontrast verleiht jedem Kunstwerke rechtes Leben [15, No 9, p. 66]. Carl Lüdecke i wrocławskie budownictwo mieszkaniowe /Carl Lüdecke and dwelling-houses in Wrocław 13 dział wieloosiowej elewacji na część centralną i fl anku- jące ją skrzydła (il. 2a). Środkowy pilaster podkreślał oś symetrii elewacji od strony ul. Świdnickiej (il. 2b), dzie - lił ją na dwa przęsła, a dodatkowo stanowił podporę dla „re ne san sowej” niszy, w której umieszczono posąg Dionizo- sa (?). Odmiennie zaprojektowano też ostatnią kon dygnację budowli – w bocznych ryzalitach od strony ul. Fran cisz- kańskiej i od strony ul. Świdnickiej okna ujęto pi lastra mi, któ re dźwigały mocno rozbudowane belkowanie zwień- czone balustradą. Zdecydowane podkreślenie kie run ków pionowych miało zapewne na celu osiągnięcie efektu op- tycz nego podwyższenia pseudoskrzydeł budowli. W kompozycji elewacji późniejszej kamienicy zbudo- wanej dla Juliusa Neugebauera, Lüdecke dał pierwszeń- stwo liniom pionowym – oś symetrii fasady wyznaczał pseudoryzalit prowadzony przez trzy kondygnacje bu- dynku, a wspólne obramienia wiążące okna pierwszego i drugiego piętra pogłębiały wrażenie ich równoważności. Zasadą kontrastu architekt kierował się również przy do- borze ornamentów, którymi dekorował fasady miejskich domów mieszkalnych. Powołując się na XVIII-wieczną rozprawę o pięknie Williama Hogartha, Lüdecke dowo- dził, że [...] linie o kontrastowych kierunkach mają szcze- gólny wdzięk14 [15, No 9, s. 66]. Architekt z upodobaniem stosował fryzy meandrowe, palmetowe i groteskowe – opracował nawet zestawy elementów kompozycyjnych i dekoracyjnych, które następnie powtarzał w swoich pro- jektach. Lüdecke nie stronił również od wykorzystywania do dekorowania elewacji budynków mieszkalnych goto- wych schematów zdobień, które publikowano w licznie wydawanych w XIX w. wzornikach ornamentów. Jako zwolennik pluralizmu stylowego Lüdecke pod- chodził dość swobodnie do kwestii łączenia w obrębie jednej fasady motywów pochodzących z różnych okresów 14 Die Linien von kontrastierender Bewegung sind von besonde- rem Reize [15, No 9, s. 66]. In Ostwald’s tenement house horizontal entablature was supported by pilasters which additionally reinforced opti- cally the facade edges, whereas from Franciszkańska Street side they marked a multi-axis facade division into a cen- tral part and fl anking wings (Fig. 2a). The central pilaster emphasized the facade axis of symmetry from Świdnicka Street (Fig. 2b) and divided it into two bays as well as it ad- ditionally constituted some support for the “Renaissance” niche where a statue of Dionysus was placed (?). The last fl oor of the building was also designed differently – in side avants-corps, windows on the sides of Franciszkań- ska Street and Świdnicka Street were equipped with pi- la sters which carried heavily developed entablature sur- mounted by a ba lustrade. A strong emphasis on vertical directions was surely aimed at reaching an effect of the optical elevation of the building’s pseudo-wings. In the facade composition of the later tenement house built for Julius Neugebauer, Lüdecke gave priority to the vertical lines – the axis of symmetry of the facade was ma rked by a pseudo-avant-corps along three fl oors of the building and common frames connecting windows of the fi rst and second fl oors deepened the impression of equi- valence. The architect used a contrast principle when choosing ornaments for decorating facades of urban re- sidential houses. Referring to the 19th-century treatise on beauty by William Hogarth, Lüdecke argued that [...] lines of contrasting directions have special charm14 [15, No 9, p. 66]. The architect used winding, palmette and grotesque friezes with pleasure – he even developed a set of compositional and decorative elements which he then repeated in his designs. Lüdecke also did not abstain from using ready schemes of ornamentation to decorate facades of residential buildings, which were published in the 19th century ornament templates in great amounts. 14 Die Linien von kontrastierender Bewegung sind von besonde- rem Reize [15, No 9, p. 66]. Il. 2. Carl Lüdecke, kamienica Ostwalda, rysunki elewacji od strony: a) ul. Franciszkańskiej, b) ul. Świdnickiej (MA/ABmW., TP) Fig. 2. Carl Lüdecke, Ostwald’s tenement house, drawings of the facade from: a) Franciszkańska Street, b) Świdnicka Street (MA/ABmW., TP) a b 14 Agnieszka Tomaszewicz historycznych. W szkicu do projektu kamienicy Ostwalda architekt nadał parterowi budynku wyraźnie „fl orenckie” piętno, w projekcie realizacyjnym „renesansowe” okna parteru zostały ozdobione „gotyckimi” noskami. Wydaje się jednak, że „tektoniczna” spójność kompozycji elewa- cji była dla artysty celem nadrzędnym, nie w pełni uze- wnętrzniał on bowiem dwoistość funkcji projektowanych przez siebie kamienic – konsekwentnie wyróżniał jedynie partery nawet wtedy, gdy celom handlowym służyło rów- nież kolejne piętro budynku. Lüdecke, podobnie jak duża część współczesnych mu architektów, traktował projektowanie elewacji jako zada- nie niezależne od rozplanowania rzutu budowli. W 1871 r. architekt przygotował projekt dekoracji fasady budynku, który został zaplanowany i wzniesiony przy ul. Lelewe- la 13 (Zimmerstr. 13) przez budowniczego Maxa Ike go. Lüdecke zastosował, znany ze swoich wcześniejszych reali zacji, schemat kompozycyjny ściany artykułowany kla sycyzującymi elementami architektonicznymi (il. 3). Do mi nującym w elewacji kierunkom poziomym architekt przeciwstawił pion wspólnie obramionych, zbliżonych do siebie środkowych osi okiennych, które uzewnętrzniały miejsce usytuowania pomieszczenia reprezentacyjnego w mieszkaniach pierwszego i drugiego piętra. W „tektoniczny” nurt twórczości Lüdeckego można wpi sać również projekt willi, który architekt przygotował As a supporter of stylish pluralism, Lüdecke quite free- ly approached the issue of combining motifs originating from different historical periods within a single facade. In the sketch to the design of Ostwald’s tenement house the ground fl oor of the building was given a clearly “Floren- tine” hallmark by the architect and in the realisation de- sign the “Renaissance” windows of the ground fl oor were ornamented with “Gothic” peaks. However, it seems that “tectonic” coherence of the facade composition was of the primary goal for the artist because he did not fully mani- fest a duality of functions of tenement houses designed by him – he consequently distinguished only ground fl oors, even when another fl oor of the building was to serve com- mercial purposes. Lüdecke, similarly to a vast majority of contemporary architects, treated designing of facades as a task which was independent of the layout of the building projection. In 1871 the architect prepared a design of the building facade decoration, which was planned and built at 13 Le- lewela Street (Zimmerstr. 13) by builder Max Ike. Lü- decke applied, as it was known from his earlier realisa- tions, a compositional scheme of the wall articulated with classicizing architectural elements (Fig. 3). The architect contrasted dominating horizontal directions in the facade with the vertical of commonly framed and close to each other window axes which manifested a location of the rep- resentative room in the apartments of the fi rst and second fl oors. A villa design, which the architect prepared for Robert Staats in 1863, an entrepreneur and municipal councilor, can be also included in the “tectonic” trend of Lüdecke’s artistic creativity. The house was designed on an almost square projection – its compositional core constituted a cross of central rooms which were supplemented with four corner rooms (Fig. 4a). Three of them served residen- tial purposes, while the kitchen with facility rooms were arranged in the space of the fourth chamber. The width of central chambers was determined by the size of the stair- case situated in one of the arms of the cross. The compo- sition of the projection was manifested on the facades of the building, which connected this design with a Durand’s design method; similarly to the applied here close align- ment and symmetry as well as repeatability of main ele- ments of the interior layout. However, the motifs Lüdecke used to articulate the building’s facade were taken from the Schinkel’s School of Architecture. The architect di- versifi ed a simple cubist body of the building by means of small avants-corps and loggias, which emphasized the axis of symmetry of each facade and broke their horizon- tal and tripartite composition (Fig. 4b). In the avant-corps of the staircase there was an entrance to the building as well as a monumental two-storey window that illumi- nated stairs and also indirectly the central hall which was situated at the intersection of the axes of symmetry of the building’s projection. The central axis of the front of the buildings was highlighted by a group of three window and door openings giving them the form of an arcade on the fi rst fl oor. The composition was equipped with pilas- ters carrying a triangular pediment and in front of it there was a loggia closed with a balcony at the top. This motif, Il. 3. Wrocław, kamienica przy ul. Lelewela 13, elewacja frontowa (fot. A. Tomaszewicz, 2014) Fig. 3. Wrocław, tenement house, 13 Lelewela Street, front facade (photo by A. Tomaszewicz, 2014) Carl Lüdecke i wrocławskie budownictwo mieszkaniowe /Carl Lüdecke and dwelling-houses in Wrocław 15 brought back by Schinkel, was willingly used as decora- tion of residential buildings designed by architects from Berlin around the middle of the 19th century [17, p. 161]. The Staats’ villa was built near the suburban road which connected the city with the village of Borek (Kleinburg)15 and with time it was transformed into one of the most ele- gant streets in Wrocław (Kleinburgerstr., since 1877 Kai - ser-Wilhelm-Str., at present Powstańców Śląskich Street). In 1876 Lüdecke built here one more villa which was designed for the owner of an iron foundry Julius Kem- ny. This time the architect rejected strict symmetry and alignment that characterized the villa of Staats – the non- existing today Kemny’s house consisted of two uneven height bodies displaced towards each other. An enfi lade of three representative chambers was situated on the ground fl oor in the higher part of the building and a spa cious ves- tibule with an open staircase was designed in the lower part (Fig. 5a). On each of both sides of the vestibule there were two rooms, three of which fulfi lled a residential function and in the fourth a kitchen was arranged. Private rooms, dressing rooms and toilet facilities were arranged on the fi rst fl oor. A departure from strict symmetry in planning the projection allowed Lüdecke to increase the functionality of room deployment as well as preferably loosen the body of the building, which was additionally diversi fi ed by numerous outbuildings. Each facade was given a different character. From the street side the house was shaped in the form of a “villa with a tower” – the 15 In 1884 the Staats’ villa was extended by its new owner Max Grund. The cubic body of the building was diversified with a tower and numerous outbuildings. By the end of the 19th century the villa was rebuilt several times and in 1940 it was planned to be demolished. How- ever, this plan was not put into practice – until 2014 the building housed the National Higher Theatre School; at present the villa is offered for sale (22 Powstańców Śląskich Street, archival design records are kept in the Museum of Architecture in Wrocław – Department of Construction Archives of the City of Wrocław, vol. 4244, also cf. [18]). w 1863 r. dla Roberta Staatsa, przedsiębiorcy i radnego miejskiego. Dom został zaprojektowany na prawie kwa- dratowym rzucie – jego trzon kompozycyj ny stanowił krzyż środkowych pomieszczeń, które uzu pełniono czte- rema narożnymi pokojami (il. 4a). Trzy z nich słu żyły ce - lom mieszkaniowym, w przestrzeń czwartego wpisano kuch nię z pomieszczeniami pomocniczymi. Szerokość izb środkowych wyznaczał wymiar klatki schodowej usytuo- wanej w jed nym z ramion krzyża. Kompozycja rzutu zo- stała uzew nętrzniona na elewacjach budowli, co łączyło ten pro jekt z durandowską metodą projektowania, podob- nie jak zastosowana tu ścisła osiowość i symetria, a tak - że powtarzalność głównych elementów rozplanowania wnętrz. Jednak motywy, których Lüde cke użył do artyku- lacji elewacji budowli, zostały zaczerpnięte z schinklow- skiej szkoły architektury. Prostą, kubiczną bryłę budynku architekt urozmaicił niewielkimi ryzalitami i loggiami, które podkreślały oś symetrii każdej elewacji i rozbijały ich horyzontalną, trójdzielną kompozycję (il. 4b). W ryza- licie klatki schodowej zaprojektowano wejście do budyn- ku i monumentalne dwukondygnacyjne okno oświetlające schody, a pośrednio także centralny hol, który umiesz- czono na przecięciu osi symetrii rzutu budynku. Środko- wą oś frontu budowli podkreślono grupą trzech otworów okiennych i drzwiowych, na pierwszym piętrze nadając im formę arkady. Kompozycję ujętą pilastrami dźwigającymi trójkątny naczółek poprzedzała loggia zamknięta od góry balkonem. Motyw ten, przypomniany przez Schinkla, był chętnie stosowany w de koracji budynków mieszkalnych projektowanych około połowy XIX w. przez architektów berlińskich [17, s. 161]. Willa Staatsa została wzniesiona przy podmiejskiej dro dze łączącej miasto z wsią Borek (Kleinburg)15, któ ra 15 W 1884 r. willa Staatsa została rozbudowana przez jej nowego właściciela, Maxa Grunda. Kubiczną bryłę budynku urozmaicono wów- czas wieżą i licznymi przybudówkami. Do końca XIX w. willę przebu- dowywano jeszcze kilkakrotnie, a w 1940 r. planowano ją wyburzyć. b Il. 4. Carl Lüdecke, projekt willi Staatsa, ul. Powstańców Śląskich 22, a) rzuty, b) przekrój i elewacja frontowa (MA/ABmW., t. 4244) Fig. 4. Carl Lüdecke, Staats’ villa project, 22 Powstańców Śląskich Street, a) projections, b) cross-section and front facade (MA/ABmW., t. 4244) a b 16 Agnieszka Tomaszewicz function of the “tower” was fulfi lled by the higher part of the building, which was optically “smoothed” by a ver- tical composition of windows (Fig. 5b). In accordance with the principle of contrast, the facades of the lower part of the building were designed in a horizontal system. The consistency of the facade composition was broken by the side avant-corps which due to the nature of the rooms contained in it was provided with only one small window and in order to maintain balance – diaphragms imitating holes. A garden facade was most effectively de- veloped and its main compositional axis was highlighted by means of a shallow avant-corps closed with a triangle pediment. A bay window, which expanded the space of the living room, was built on the ground fl oor just in front of the avant-corps face and it was covered with a bal- cony. The exit door along with windows, which led to the balcony, was closed with a Palladian motif. On the fi rst fl oor, on either sides of the central axis, there were aedi cule-framed niches with statues. On the ground fl oor a green house was added to the building – a winter garden accessible from the living room bay window and the sym- metry of the facade composition was supplemented with a ve randa designed on the other side of the central bay win- dow. A triple, vertical facade system, the use of fi ve axes, three of which were grouped in the central part of the wall make this project similar to the realisation of the Dresden School of Architecture, however, in a version processed by architects from Berlin [19, p. 222, Figures 515, 519]. Most of the Wrocław urban houses Lüdecke designed in the classicizing style, however, in the Kemna’s villa the ar chitect expanded a repertoire of forms with motifs of the Italian Renaissance. The design of a residential house connected with an apartment and entertainment garden, which the architect prepared for the brewer C.H. Hilde- brandt in 1871, confi rms Lüdecke’s tendency to apply va- rious neo-Renaissance trends. The building was built at 33 Ko mandorska Street (Neudorfstr. 33) at the site of an older residential house which was located in a compact deve lopment. The new tenement house did not occupy z czasem została przekształcona w jedną z najelegant szych ulic Wrocławia (Kleinburgerstr., od roku 1877 Kai ser-Wil- helm-Str., obecnie ul. Powstańców Śląskich). W 1876 r. Lü decke wzniósł tu jeszcze jedną willę, za pro jek to waną dla właściciela odlewni żelaza Juliusa Kemny. Architekt odrzucił tym razem ścisłą symetrię i osiowość, która ce- chowała willę Staatsa – nieistniejący dziś dom Kemny zo- stał złożony z dwóch przesuniętych względem siebie brył nierównej wysokości. Na parterze wyższej części budyn- ku umieszczono amfi ladę trzech pomieszczeń reprezenta- cyjnych, w niższej części zaprojektowano obszerny we- stybul z ot wartą klatką schodową (il. 5a). Po obu stronach westy bulu usytuowano po dwa po mieszczenia, z których trzy pełniły funkcje mieszkalne, a w jednym urządzono kuch nię. Na piętrze zaprojek towano pokoje prywatne, gar- deroby i pomieszczenia toale towe. Odejście od ścisłej sy- metrii w planowaniu rzutu pozwoliło Lüdeckemu zwięk- szyć funkcjonalność rozmieszczenia pomieszczeń, a także korzystnie rozluźnić bryłę budynku, która dodatkowo zo- stała urozmaicona licznymi przybudówkami. Każdej ele- wacji nadano odmienny charakter. Od strony ulicy dom został ukształtowany w formie „willi z wieżą” – funkcję „wieży” pełniła wyższa część budynku, którą optycznie „wysmuklała” wertykalna kompozycja okien (il. 5b). Zgod - nie z zasadą kontrastu elewacje niższej częś ci budynku za- projektowano w układzie horyzontalnym. Spójność kom - pozycji elewacji wejściowej rozbijał boczny ryzalit, któ ry ze względu na specyfi kę umieszczonych w nim pomiesz - czeń został zaopatrzony jedynie w jedno niewielkie okien- ko i w celu zachowania równowagi – blendy imitujące otwory. Najefektowniej opracowano elewację ogrodową, której główną oś kompozycyjną podkreślono płytkim ry- zalitem zamkniętym trójkątnym naczółkiem. Na parterze Zamiaru jednak nie zrealizowano – w budynku do 2014 r. mieściła się siedziba Państwowej Wyższej Szkoły Teatralnej, obecnie willa jest wysta- wiona na sprzedaż (ul. Powstańców Śląskich 22, archiwalna dokumenta- cja projektowa znajduje się w Muzeum Architektury we Wrocławiu – Oddział Archiwum Budowlane Miasta Wrocławia, t. 4244, por. też: [18]). Il. 5. Carl Lüdecke, projekt willi Kemny, ul. Powstańców Śląskich (Kaiser Wilhelm Str. 64), a) rzut parteru, b) elewacja frontowa (MA/ABmW., t. 4266) Fig. 5. Carl Lüdecke, Kemna’s villa project, Powstańców Śląskich Street (Kaiser Wilhelm Str. 64), a) ground floor projection, b) front facade (MA/ABmW., t. 4266) a b Carl Lüdecke i wrocławskie budownictwo mieszkaniowe /Carl Lüdecke and dwelling-houses in Wrocław 17 the entire width of the plot – along one of the borders there was a crossing to the garden situated in the back- yard of the property. On the ground fl oor a beer house was arranged and on the next three fl oors – apartments for rent. The functional differentiation of interiors was pre- sented on the facades of the building, which were solved in two stylistic versions by the architect, i.e. the fi rst con- cept referred to the French Renaissance and the second one to the early Italian Renaissance. In both versions of the design the windows of the ground fl oor of the build- ing were vaulted with full arches, whereas the wall was “loaded” with rustication. In the “Florentine” concept the facade was covered with rustication on the entire height of the building and the facade composition had a remarkably horizontal character. In the “French” version the slightly bossage ground fl oor was accompanied by a smooth wall of upper fl oors, a horizontal facade composition was countered by avants-corps, lesenes highlighting corners of the building as well as the bay window emphasizing the location of a “good chamber” in the apartments of the fi rst and second fl oor. The last fl oor of the building was hidden in a steep mansard roof illuminated by high and slender dormers. The design was carried out in the “Flo- rentine” version16, however, it is worth noting that both the stylistics of the Italian Quattrocento and the French Re naissance had already been applied previously in Wroc - ław residential development. The fi rst “Florentine” urban houses were built in Wrocław in the 1840s, whereas mo- tifs referring to the French Renaissance were introduced into residential architecture nearly twenty years later. In the fi eld of urban residential housing Carl Lüde cke was not an original designer – he was under a great in- fl uence of the Berlin School of Architecture. Tenement houses erected according to his designs had a correct and functional interior layout sometimes designed in a way to make it possible to change freely the purpose of rooms. When designing projections of tenement houses for rent, the architect usually avoided the use of schematic solu- tions and adapted interior arrangements to specifi c condi- tions of the building’s location. Lüdecke designed urban building facades in a “tectonic” way using antique-like de corative elements which he combined, particularly in fun ctionally heterogeneous tenement houses, with motifs taken from different forms of the Renaissance. Lüdecke rea lized private investors’ orders and he did not try, follo- wing patterns of his masters Stier and Stüler, to develop model concepts of multi-family residential buildings. Inte- restingly enough, despite enormous design achie vements, the architect never built his own house17, which could have constituted a full illustration of his artistic creed. Translated by Bogusław Setkowicz 16 The tenement house with Hildebrandt’s entertainment room was destroyed during World War II. 17 Until his death Lüdecke lived in Heinrich Kuveke’s tenement house – a carpenter who ran a construction company which carried out designs of many Wrocław architects, including Lüdecke. przed lico ryzalitu wysunięto wykusz powiększający przestrzeń salonu, który przykryto balkonem. Drzwi wyj- ścia na balkon i zespolone z nimi okna zamknięto moty- wem serliany. Na piętrze, po obu stronach centralnej osi, zaprojektowano edykułowo obramione nisze z posągami. Na parterze do budynku dostawiono szklarnię – ogród zi- mowy dostępny z wykusza salonu, a symetrię kompozycji elewacji uzupełniono werandą zaprojektowaną po drugiej stronie środkowego wykusza. Trójdzielny, wertykalny uk- ład elewacji, zastosowanie pięciu osi, z których trzy zo sta- ły zgrupowane w środkowej części ściany, zbliża ten pro- jekt do realizacji drezdeńskiej szkoły architektury, jednak w wersji przetworzonej przez architektów berlińskich [19, s. 222, rys. 515, 519]. Większość wrocławskich domów miejskich Lüdecke za - pro jektował w stylu klasycyzującym, w willi Kemny ar chi- tekt poszerzył jednak repertuar form o motywy zaczer pnięte z renesansu włoskiego. Skłonność Lüdeckego do stosowa- nia różnych nurtów neorenesansu potwierdza projekt domu mieszkalnego połączonego z lokalem i ogrodem rozrywko- wym, który architekt przygotował w 1871 r. dla browarnika C.H. Hildebrandta. Budynek stanął przy ul. Komandorskiej (Neudorfstr. 33) na miejscu starszego domu mieszkalnego, usytuowanego w zabudowie zwartej. No wa kamienica nie zajęła całej szerokości działki – wzdłuż jednej z granic za- projektowano przejście do ogrodu, który zajmował tył po- sesji. Na parterze urządzono piwiarnię, na kolejnych trzech piętrach – mieszkania dochodowe. Zróżnicowanie funkcjo- nalne wnętrz zostało ukazane na elewacjach budynku, któ- re architekt rozwiązał w dwóch wersjach stylistycznych: w pierwszej koncepcji nawiązał do francuskiego renesan- su, w drugiej – do wczesnego renesansu włoskiego. W obu wersjach projektu okna parteru budynku przesklepiono łu- kami pełnymi, a ścianę „obciążono” rustyką. W koncepcji „fl orenckiej” rustyką pokryto elewację na całej wysokości budynku, a kompozycja elewacji miała wybitnie horyzon- talny charakter. W wer sji „francuskiej” lekko boniowane- mu parterowi towarzyszyła gładka ściana wyższych kon- dygnacji, horyzontalną kompozycję elewacji kontrowały ryzality, lizeny podkreślające narożniki budowli, a także wy kusz akcentujący położenie „dobrej izby” w mieszka- niach pierwszego i drugiego piętra. Ostatnia kondygnacja bu dynku została ukryta w stromym mansardowym dachu, oświetlonym wysokimi, smukłymi lukarnami. Projekt zre- alizowano w wersji „fl orenckiej”16, warto jednak zazna- czyć, że zarówno stylistyka włoskiego Quattrocenta, jak i re nesansu francuskiego była już wcześniej stosowana we wro c ławskim budownictwie mieszka nio wym. Pierwsze „fl o renckie” domy mieszczańskie wznie siono we Wrocławiu w latach 40. XIX w., motywy nawiązujące do renesansu francuskiego wprowadzono do ar chitektury mieszkaniowej blisko dwadzieścia lat później. W dziedzinie miejskiego budownictwa mieszkaniowe- go Carl Lüdecke nie był twórcą oryginalnym – pozostawał pod dużym wpływem berlińskiej szkoły architektury. Ka- mienice wznoszone według jego projektów miały popraw- 16 Kamienica wraz z lokalem rozrywkowym Hildebrandta została zniszczona w czasie II wojny światowej. 18 Agnieszka Tomaszewicz ny, funkcjonalny układ wnętrz, zaprojektowany niekiedy w sposób umożliwiający swobodną zmianę przeznaczenia pomieszczeń. Projektując rzuty kamienic dochodowych, architekt unikał zazwyczaj stosowania rozwiązań sche- matycznych i dostosowywał układy wnętrz do specyfi cz- nych warunków lokalizacji budynku. Elewacje domów miejskich Lüdecke komponował w sposób „tektoniczny”, używając antykizujących elementów dekoracyjnych, któ- re łączył, szczególnie w kamienicach niejednorodnych funkcjonalnie, z motywami zaczerpniętymi z różnych od - mian renesansu. Lüdecke realizował zamówienia prywat- nych inwestorów, nie próbował, wzorem swoich mistrzów Stiera i Stülera, opracować koncepcji wzorcowych wielo- rodzinnych budynków mieszkalnych. Co ciekawe, mimo ogromnego dorobku projektowego, architekt nigdy nie wybudował własnego domu17, który mógłby stanowić pełną ilustrację jego artystycznego kredo. 17 Do końca życia Lüdecke mieszkał w kamienicy Heinricha Kuve- kego – cieśli prowadzącego firmę budowlaną, która realizowała projekty wielu wrocławskich architektów, w tym także samego Lüdeckego. Bibliografia /References [1] Dobesz J., Nurty architektury 2. połowy XIX wieku w twórczości Karola Lüdeckego, praca doktorska, Wydział Architektury PWr, Wrocław 1976. [2] Becker R., Carl Luedecke, Gedächtnissrede, Verein für Geschichte der Bildenden Künste zu Breslau, Breslau 1896. [3] Dobesz J., Gmach Nowej Giełdy we Wrocławiu. Projekty konkur- sowe, [w:] H. Lisińska (red.), Sztuka XIX wieku w Polsce. Naród– miasto. Materiały sesji Stowarzyszenia Historyków Sztuki. Poznań, grudzień 1977, PWN, Warszawa 1979, 209–232. [4] Dobesz J.L., Wrocławskie dworce kolejowe, Studio Sense II, Wro- cław 2000. [5] Klamecki H., Ogród zoologiczny, ul. Zygmunta Wróblewskiego 1–5, [w:] R. Eysymontt, J. Ilkosz, A. Tomaszewicz, J. Urbanik (red.), Lek- sykon architektury Wrocławia, Via Nova, Wrocław 2011, 907–908. [6] Grzegorczyk B., Architektura i budownictwo teatralne we Wrocła- wiu od około 1770 do schyłku XIX wieku, UWr, Wrocław 2000. [7] Lüdecke C., Zur Stylfrage bei Bauten und Kunstwerken der Jetzt- zeit, „Jahres-Bericht der Schlesischen Gesellschaft für Vaterländi- sche Kultur” 1859, Jb. 37, 213–217. [8] Zabłocka-Kos A., Sztuka. Wiara. Uczucie. Alexis Langer – śląski architekt neogotyku, UWr, Wrocław 1996. [9] Bothe R., Berliner Architekten zwischen 1790–1870, [w:] W. Aren- hövel (red.), Berlin und die Antike, Berlin 1979 [katalog wystawy]. [10] Börsch-Supan E., Berliner Baukunst nach Schinkel 1840–1870, „Stu dien zur Kunst der neunzehnten Jahrhunderts”, 1977, Bd. 25. [11] Hoepfner W., Schwandner E.-L., Archäologische Bauforschung, [w:] W. Arenhövel (red.), Berlin und die Antike, Berlin 1979 [ka- talog wystawy]. [12] Becker R., Der Verein für Geschichte der bildenden Künste zu Breslau 1862–1912, Korn, Breslau 1912. [13] Festschrift „Unser Motiv”, [b.m.w.] 1897. [14] Ungewitter G.G., Entwürfe zu Stadt- und Landhäusern, Verlag von Carl Fleming, Glogau 1856–1864. [15] Lüdecke C., Vorträge über Ornamentik, „Breslauer Gewerbe- Blatt” 1860, No 8 (21. April), 58, 59; No 9 (5. Mai), 66–68; No 10 (19. Mai), 73, 74; No 11 (2. Juni), 83–86. [16] Bötticher K., Die Tektonik der Hellenen, t. 1: Einleitung und Dori- ka, Verlag von Ferdinand Riegel, Potsdam 1852. [17] Hammer-Schenk H., Neurenaissance in Berlin. Architekten nach Schinkel: Friedrich Hitzig, Eduard Knoblauch, Eduard Titz, [w:] W. Krause (red.), Neorenaissance. Ansprüche an einen Stil, „Mus- kauer Schriften”, Bd. 4, Bad Muskau 2001. [18] Eysymontt R., Państwowa Wyższa Szkoła Teatralna im. Ludwika Solskiego, d. willa, ul. Powstańców Śląskich 22, [w:] R. Eysymontt, J. Ilkosz, A. Tomaszewicz, J. Urbanik (red.), Leksykon architektury Wrocławia, Via Nova, Wrocław 2011, 615–616. [19] Brönner W., Die bürgerliche Villa in Deutschland 1830–1890, Wernersche Verlagsgesellschaft, Worms 1994. Streszczenie Carl Lüdecke był jednym z najbardziej wszechstronnych architektów XIX-wiecznego Wrocławia, projektował budynki użyteczności publicznej, wiejskie siedziby arystokracji, prowadził także prace konserwatorskie najważniejszych zabytków stolicy Śląska. Niniejszy artykuł jest próbą uzu- pełnienia luki w dotychczasowych opracowaniach na temat twórczości artysty i pokazuje nieopisaną dotąd grupę projektów Lüdeckego – miejskie domy mieszkalne. We Wrocławiu architekt zaprojektował kilka kamienic najczęściej o funkcji usługowo-mieszkalnej, dwie wille, prowadził także przebudowy domów istniejących, tworzył projekty dekoracji elewacji. W propozycjach miejskich budynków mieszkalnych Lüdecke stosował zasadę pluralizmu stylowego – elewacjom domów nadawał formy klasycyzujące wzbogacone motywami zaczerpniętymi z różnych okresów włoskiego renesansu. Swoje stanowisko dotyczące stylów w architekturze artysta zaprezentował w czasie wykładów, które wygłosił na forum Śląskiego Towa- rzystwa Kultury Ojczystej. Architekt realizował wyłącznie zamówienia prywatnych inwestorów, każdy projekt był zatem wypadkową uwarunkowań lokalizacyjnych, potrzeb zleceniodawcy, wymogów prawnych oraz przekonań artystycznych projektanta, które pozostawały pod dużym wpływem berlińskiej szkoły architektury. Słowa kluczowe: budownictwo mieszkaniowe, historyzm, Wrocław Abstract Carl Lüdecke was one of the most versatile architects of the 19th century Wrocław. He designed buildings of public services, country seats of aristocracy, he also carried out preservation works of the most important monuments in the Silesian capital. This article is an attempt at replenishing the gap in hitherto existing works related to the creation of the artist and shows the so far not described group of Lüdecke’s projects – the urban residential houses. The architect designed several tenament houses, most often of the service-tenament function, two villas, he also carried out reconstructions of existing houses, and created plans of facade decorations. In propositions of urban tenament houses Lüdecke employed the principle of style pluralism – to house elevations he gave classic form enriched with motives derived from various periods of Italian Renaissance. His standpoint related to styles in architecture the artist presented during his lectures which he gave in the Silesian Association of Native Culture. The architect realized only commissions of private investors, so that each design was the result of conditions of localization, the needs of the customer, legal requirements and artistic beliefs of the designer which were under a high influence of the Berlin school of architecture. 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work_tblpfwut2zd6zlbcgnw5mblmuq	----	communication should not miss the essays by Henry Ettinghausen and Ricard Expósito, which close A Maturing Market and provide insightful analysis on the circu- lation and consumption of news in early modern Iberia. Although A Maturing Market contains some gaps and imbalances (the presence of Spain in the volume is much greater than that of Portugal, and there are no essays devoted to the printing of legal texts, which accounted for one third of all items published in Spain in the seventeenth century), readers will find in this edifying collection an expanded per- spective on the Iberian book market that illuminates the data collected in various biblio- graphicsourcesandcatalogues.Assuch,it isa welcome additiontostudiesonthehistory of printing and the book in early modern Iberia and on the impact of the press in its societies. Javier Lorenzo, East Carolina University doi:10.1017/rqx.2018.50 Charlotte Guillard: Une femme imprimeur à la Renaissance. Rémi Jimenes. Renaissance. Rennes: Presses Universitaires de Rennes; Tours: Presses Universitaires François-Rabelais, 2017. 306 pp. €34. Charlotte Guillard was active as a printer-publisher in Paris from 1537 to 1556, at the Soleil d’Or, the oldest printing firm in Paris, founded in 1473. Twice widowed, she assumed control of the business after the death of her second husband, printing/pub- lishing firms being first and foremost family establishments; women as the heads of firms invariably were widows who took charge in such circumstances. Over the years, she published 181 editions, meticulously analyzed by Jimenes. These books were of the kinds associated with this press when directed by her husbands, Jimenes stresses, so to imagine that she brought a woman’s perspective to the selection of materials would be seriously to misconstrue the nature of the publishing industry. Above all, this is a study of publishing in sixteenth-century Paris—and, as such, a valuable contribution to the fields of print culture and the history of the book. The nature and structure of this industry are described in the first chapters, and then further discussed in chapters 8 and 9, on materials and the marketplace for books. With five or six presses, this labor-intensive practice required perhaps forty workers, ranging from the core family members to paper-boys, inkers, typesetters, and pressmen, to translators, editors, and correctors, to a director (chef d’atelier), whose name at times was coupled with Guillard’s on the title pages of the press’s books. In brief, this was a collective enterprise in which the role of the publisher would have been largely administrative and financial. To the minds of her contemporaries and to posterity, however, the press was that of Charlotte Guillard, who was to be praised or blamed, then as now, for its production. This production, examined in the central sections of the book, consisted largely of books in theology and law, overwhelmingly texts by the church fathers and other sacred RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY298 VOLUME LXXII, NO. 1 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core works: five, six, seven, or ten volumes of the works of Saint Jerome or of Saint Augustine, published in 1541 and again in 1556, etc. On the basis of this production, Guillard might seem a mere tool of the Catholic Church, dogmatically engaged on the side of the Counter-Reformation. This is the crux of the Guillard problem. Was she not out of touch with the most vital current of her time—namely, the humanist reconsti- tution and dissemination of ancient texts? Why bother with what would seem to have been a rearguard action of an essentially medieval press? Jimenes’s answer is that she was not so out of touch, that secular texts were far from the only ones of interest to the humanists, and that the output of the Soleil d’Or was in fact consonant with that of better-known humanist presses. A principal, perhaps the principal, mission of Renaissance humanism involved cor- recting sacred texts, particularly those of the fathers, by returning to their Hebrew and Greek sources. To this end, the humanists compared existing texts, noted differences that could be attributed either to errors in translation or scribal transmission, and pre- pared new, authoritative printed editions. The most famous was Erasmus, who, in fact, collaborated at least one time with the editors of the Soleil d’Or. But famous or not, these editors were similarly motivated, their contributions no less meaningful than those of the more famous presses of Amerbach or Froben, in Basel, or Plantin, in Antwerp. (This same return to sources distinguishes the books in jurisprudence pub- lished by Guillard.) All in all, then, Charlotte Guillard’s Soleil d’Or deserves a place, Jimenes shows, at the forefront of French Renaissance print culture, a culture of books and prints reflecting the continued dominance of religious, predominantly Catholic values. Whereas the humanist/antiquarian texts of the Aldine Press, of Aldus Manutius, receive regular attention, those of Charlotte Guillard were in fact more representative of sixteenth-century print culture. There is another reason for the greater attraction of Aldine books, and it is their anti- quarian look, more obviously in keeping with the humanist focus on antiquity. In this regard, the books published by the Soleil d’Or are indeed not at all comparable. The texts were set in a mix of Gothic and Roman typefaces, with layouts carried over from medieval manuscript practices: the text typically runs across the page without breaks, breathlessly, margins virtually non-existent. Woodcut illustrations, of indifferent quality and used sparingly, fit badly on the page and are in a late Gothic style. But such deci- sions were not taken in a vacuum. New typefaces were expensive, as was paper; illustra- tions to theological and legal books were strictly ornamental. So we are back to the question of the purposes of texts in post-Reformation Europe. What makes Jimenes’s answers so interesting and valuable is that they apply to texts that have tended to fall into a perceived gap between humanist and non-humanist currents. Carl Goldstein, University of North Carolina at Greensboro doi:10.1017/rqx.2018.51 REVIEWS 299 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:15, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core 
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work_tuxy7gne3jfddfunkur2dmpyxe	----	Providing the Taste of Learning: Nadia Boulanger’s Lasting Imprint on Canadian Music Copyright © Canadian University Music Society / Société de musique des universités canadiennes, 2013 Ce document est protégé par la loi sur le droit d’auteur. L’utilisation des services d’Érudit (y compris la reproduction) est assujettie à sa politique d’utilisation que vous pouvez consulter en ligne. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ Cet article est diffusé et préservé par Érudit. Érudit est un consortium interuniversitaire sans but lucratif composé de l’Université de Montréal, l’Université Laval et l’Université du Québec à Montréal. Il a pour mission la promotion et la valorisation de la recherche. https://www.erudit.org/fr/ Document généré le 5 avr. 2021 21:07 Intersections Canadian Journal of Music Revue canadienne de musique Providing the Taste of Learning: Nadia Boulanger’s Lasting Imprint on Canadian Music Jean Boivin Musical Perspectives, People, and Places: Essays in Honour of Carl Morey Volume 33, numéro 2, 2013 URI : https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1032696ar DOI : https://doi.org/10.7202/1032696ar Aller au sommaire du numéro Éditeur(s) Canadian University Music Society / Société de musique des universités canadiennes ISSN 1911-0146 (imprimé) 1918-512X (numérique) Découvrir la revue Citer cet article Boivin, J. (2013). Providing the Taste of Learning: Nadia Boulanger’s Lasting Imprint on Canadian Music. Intersections, 33(2), 71–100. https://doi.org/10.7202/1032696ar Résumé de l'article Cet article retrace le riche héritage canadien de la grande personnalité de la musique française du XXe siècle qu’était Nadia Boulanger (1887–1979). À travers son enseignement auprès d’une soixantaine d’élèves canadiens, tant francophones qu’anglophones, la célèbre pédagogue française a joué un rôle important dans le développement de la musique de concert au Canada à partir des années 1920, en particulier à Montréal et à Toronto. Ses nombreux étudiants canadiens ont continué de se démarquer en tant que compositeurs, enseignants, artistes, musicologues, théoriciens, administrateurs, et producteurs de radio. En se basant sur une longue recherche dans les archives et les sources de première main, l’auteur démontre l’impact décisif qu’a eu Nadia Boulanger sur le développement de styles musicaux et de pratiques compositionnelles au Canada au cours du siècle dernier. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/is/ https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1032696ar https://doi.org/10.7202/1032696ar https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/is/2013-v33-n2-is02038/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/is/ PROVIDING THE TASTE OF LEARNING: NADIA BOULANGER’S LASTING IMPRINT ON CANADIAN MUSIC Jean Boivin According to music critic and musicologist Gilles Potvin, Nadia Boulanger’s gift to Canadian music is exceptional. From 1920 to her death in 1979, she taught more Canadians than any other foreign teacher. Potvin supports his claim by naming more than forty musicians, belonging to three different gen- erations and well known in various circles (Potvin 1993a, 1276–77). My own research has led me to identify some seventy former students of Boulanger, either born or having extensively worked in Canada (see appendix for a list of more than sixty of them). Canadians were present in Boulanger’s life from the early 1920s—that is, at the same time as her first American students1—until the very end of her teach- ing career in the late 1970s. It is all the more surprising that no serious study on this interesting subject has been published. In the Boulanger literature, the presence of Canadians among her pupils is barely suggested and many er- rors are to be found.2 Boulanger’s career is too long to be fully covered here. In view of both her reputation among Canadian musicians and her direct influence on the style of some prominent Canadian composers, the decades 1925–55 stand out as par- ticularly interesting. In fact, dividing the pedagogue’s teaching activities into a pre-war and a postwar period is actually relevant in this case, as I intend to point out. And although Nadia Boulanger’s musical and pedagogical ideas have spread throughout Canada, I propose to emphasize her impact among 1 The first American composer to study composition with Boulanger, according to Aaron Cop- land (1900–1990) and other sources, was Melville Smith (1898–1962), who became her student in the fall of 1920. Copland himself came to her in 1921 and Virgil Thomson (1896–1989) in 1925. 2 For example, the composer Pierre Mercure (1927–66), who attended her Wednesday class in Paris only briefly in the fall of 1949, is identified in many sources as one of her Canadians students (see, e.g., Arnold Walter 1968, 246), while many other Canadians, who followed her instructions more diligently and for a significant time, are left unnamed. In a special issue of La Revue musicale devoted to the Boulanger sisters, Christiane Trieu-Colleney lists only two Canadian pupils: the same Pierre Mercure (identified in the “École française” category) and Quebecer Roger Matton (1929–2004) (curi- ously under the “École américaine” section) (1982, 87). In the appendix of this special issue, three other Canadian names appear: Mgr.  Eleazar [Elzéar] Fortier (1915–84), Gabriel Charpentier (1925–), and Jean Papineau-Couture (1916–2000) (102–03). As for Boulanger’s biographer, Léonie Rosenstiel, she alludes to only three Canadian students: Jean Papineau-Couture, Hungarian-born Istvan Anhalt, and Richard Boulanger (1998, see index 415–27). After 1945, Nadia Boulanger tried to keep records of her students, and her notebooks are said to contain more than 1500 names of students, from all around the world (Trieu-Colleney 1982, 101). 72 Intersections French-Canadian composers, the shared French language providing an im- portant commonality. On the other hand, it is largely recognized that Bou- langer’s influence was not confined to composers, and I widened my enquiry accordingly. In addition to available (yet dispersed) testimonies and biograph- ical notes, I shall draw on unpublished sources, mainly rich findings in the music department of the Bibliothèque nationale de France in Paris3 and in the Bibliothèque et Archives Nationales du Québec (BAnQ), in Montreal,4 as well as on private conversations and correspondence with Canadian musicians, whom I warmly thank for their help. The Pre-war Period Aaron Copland, a student of Nadia Boulanger in Paris in the early 1920s, com- plained of the lack of a true musical culture in his own country, even in such an animated city as New York (Cone 1968, 58). The same could be said of To- ronto or Montreal. In the 1920s and 1930s, Canadian composers could not easily acquire a solid musical training, let alone a regular acquaintance with modernity, even in these two major cities. Concerts centred on the standard “common practice” repertoire. Modern music was generally confined to more intimate—almost subversive—venues. Moreover, in French-speaking Quebec, modernist artists had to deal with the censors of the Catholic Church, power- ful up to the early 1960s. The important cultural links that respectively tied the French-speaking intelligentsia of Canada to France, and the English-speaking majority to England, led to a parallel evolution of musical trends. Financial re- sources earmarked for the liberal arts were scarce and asymmetrically distrib- uted. French Canadians were statistically poorer at that time than Canadians of British extraction and, consequently, had limited access to higher education. And throughout the country, culture was considered best if imported. For some privileged French-Canadian artists from the province of Quebec, Paris was an obvious and coveted destination, as early as the 1920s.5 The search for a national French-Canadian idiom—in music, as in other arts—implied travelling to the “Mère-Patrie,” the motherland, as France was often called. In fact, no publicly financed French-language music schools existed before the founding of the Conservatoire de musique et d’art dramatique in 1943 in 3 I am deeply grateful to Alexandra Laederich, Secrétaire générale of the Fondation interna- tionale Lili and Nadia Boulanger in Paris, for her kind support, as well as to my friend Anne Rochon, whose help has been invaluable throughout this investigation. The useful inventory of the corres- pondence received by Nadia Boulanger and kept in the Bibliothèque nationale de France can be found in Laederich 2007b, 485–517. 4 For example, the Isabelle and Jean Papineau-Couture fonds in Bibliothèque et Archives Na- tionales du Québec contains thirty-three letters of both a personal and a professional nature, written by Boulanger over thirty-five years, between 1942 and 1977 (MSS 099, box 14). The composer and teacher Gabriel Cusson also kept a valuable correspondence with his former teacher (sixteen letters, Nadia Boulanger fonds, N.l.a 65). Boulanger’s twenty-two letters to him are preserved (Bibliothèque et Archives Nationales du Québec, MSS 095). It is highly probable that similar documents are waiting to be discovered elsewhere in various Canadian archives. 5 The Quebec composer Claude Champagne (1891–1965) studied at the Paris Conservatoire with André Gédalge and Charles Koechlin, among other teachers, from 1921 to 1928. After his return to Montreal, he became an influential teacher and a strong advocate of the French school. 33/2 (2013) 73 Montreal (and a year later in Quebec City). The music faculty of the Université de Montréal was created as late as 1951. Both there and at the Conservatoire the focus was placed on theory and performance, rather than composition.6 Prior to the founding of these two important institutions, ambitious musicians had to rely on a few capable local private teachers. The cost of travel and overseas studies appeared prohibitive to many, while scholarships were rare, especially for composers. Undoubtedly there was a “dragging behind.”7 English-speak- ing Canadians were somewhat better served  both in Toronto and Montreal.8 Still, until the 1950s, the main influence on English-speaking composers in the making was British, since they were often taught by musicians who had been born and trained in England, many of them rather conservative organists, such as Healey Willan (1880–1968) at the University of Toronto and Douglas Clarke (1893–1962) at McGill University (Proctor 1980, 33–34; Elliott 2008, 37). On both musical fronts, Nadia Boulanger brought a very different perspective. A Constant Flow of Students The cellist and composer Gabriel Cusson (1903–72) was the first Canadian to study with Nadia Boulanger. From the moment he met her in 1924, the “ Canadian connection” to the renowned pedagogue would never be broken (see appendix). One could benefit from Boulanger’s teaching in her legendary apartment at 36 rue Ballu, in Paris (both for individual and group lessons), or in the American Conservatory in Fontainebleau during the summer. Boulanger was linked to the conservatory from the time it opened (in 1921) almost until the end of her life.9 Students could also attend her popular history class in the École normale de musique, where she taught from 1920 to 1939.10 Sources do not always indicate precisely which venue applies to each one of her Canadian disciples. When the war rendered travelling to Paris nearly impossible, some Canadians studied with her, as we shall see, in Boston and Cambridge (Mas- sachusetts), in Madison (Wisconsin), as well as in California. It may be useful to know that Boulanger spoke a competent enough, yet strangely accentuated 6 The first official publicly funded composition course in French was introduced by Claude Champagne in the Montreal Conservatory before the end of the Second World War, in 1944. In Que- bec City, some basic rules of composition were taught at Université Laval, aimed essentially at writing rather conventional sacred music. 7 Readers interested in the development of French-Canadian music between the two world wars should read Lefebvre 2004, especially 107–96. 8 A music faculty was created in Toronto 1918, and two years later in Montreal at McGill Uni- versity, but music had been long before part of the university curriculum in both cities. Teaching was focused primarily on performance and theoretical training of teachers-to-be, but some composition classes were also offered. 9 Whereas the list of American composers who studied at the Conservatoire américain of Fon- tainebleau, founded by Walter Damrosch in 1921, is impressive, Canadians apparently gained access to it only after the war. Boulanger may have used her influence to authorize these fellow North Amer- icans, many of whom spoke French, to be allowed to sign in, but we have yet to find precise informa- tion on this topic. One of the first French Canadians to study at Fontainebleau might have been Pierre Beaudet in 1947, and he must have been fairly bilingual. Calvin Sieb (1925–2007) registered in the summer of 1950 but became a Canadian citizen only in 1970. 10 The École normale mostly trained future teachers. 74 Intersections English, even at the École Normale, to the dismay of the French-speaking members of her audience (Arthur Berger, quoted in Coppock 1978, 54).11 On the whole, many categories of students crossed the threshold of her stu- dio. Some of those Canadian students were true beginners, others had already acquired a solid musical education. While some stayed merely a few weeks, a number of them spent the full three or four years Boulanger expected from those asking for a thorough training. Many, such as Jean Papineau-Couture, Roger Matton, John Beckwith, Maurice Blackburn, Kelsey Jones, or Walter Buczinski, to name but a few, would become respected composers. Influential pedagogues are also to be found among them (Isabelle Delorme, Andrée De- sautels, Rosette Renshaw, etc.). A significant number would later make their mark as performers (organist Françoise Aubut, harpsichordist Kenneth Gil- bert, pianist Boyd McDonald, accompanist Jeanne Landry, violinist Paul Sch- ermann, choir conductors Claude Thompson and Peter Schubert, etc.), others as administrators, journalists, or editors. In many cases, more than one cat- egory applies. In time, Canadian universities would welcome as faculty numer- ous members of the “Boulangerie.” After their studies with Nadia Boulanger, many Canadian students kept in touch with their respected teacher, and their letters shed a new light on the musical life of the period. An interesting group of former students of European origin chose to im- migrate to Canada from England, France, or Germany, even from more dis- tant Latvia and Syria, often to become important members of the music scene. Hungarian-born Istvan Anhalt (1919–2012) arrived in Montreal in 1949 follow- ing a three-year stay in Paris. He is remembered in Montreal as an influential teacher at McGill University, notably as founder of the first electronic music studio in Quebec.12 Armenian-born Maryvonne Kendergi (1915–2011), who studied for many years in Paris and moved to Montreal in 1956, was widely known for many decades as a tireless promoter of contemporary music, nota- bly in the French public radio and television network. She recorded count- less interviews with prominent composers, including Stravinsky (Bail 2002). A number of American-born musicians of the “Boulangerie” also came up north and joined the Canadian music community. Among them are Wallace 11 Ned Rorem, an American composer and a friend of Boulanger (but never really a student) has stated that she, who taught so many Americans, surprisingly “never mastered English” (1982, 1). John Beckwith, who wrote an interesting account of his studies with Boulanger in the early 1950s (2012, 97–111), remembers that during the famous weekly group sessions that could attract nearly a hundred listeners to rue Ballu, as attested by some photographs (Spickett 1987), students were strongly encour- aged to learn French, yet English and French were spoken equally and interchangeably. Some strongly accentuated Italian was brought in as well (Beckwith 2012, 103, and letter to the author, 5 August 2004). Boyd McDonald (born in 1932), on the other hand, testifies that in the late 1950s, most of the group teaching at rue Ballu was done in English from the fall until about Easter, after which she would use more and more French in class (letters to the author, 28 July 2004). 12 A teacher at McGill University from 1949 to 1971, in 1959 Anhalt organized there what may well have been the first concert of “musique concrète” and electronic music in Canada. He later taught at Queen’s University, in Kingston, Ontario (1971–84). 33/2 (2013) 75 Berry, Irving Heller, Kelsey Jones, Richard Johnston, William Jordan, Calvin Sieb, and Elliot Weisgarber.13 A Rich Unpublished Correspondence The letters from Boulanger’s Canadian students found in the National Library in Paris cover most of her teaching career. Beyond the expected expressions of salutation, gratitude, and best wishes for her birthday or the holidays, these letters contain precious details of Canadian musical life, or pertaining to Bou- langer’s activities in North America. Here are some examples. Gabriel Cusson, Boulanger’s first Quebec student I know of, returned to Montreal in 1930 after a few exciting years in Paris. Since 1924, he had been a regular at the rue Ballu Wednesday afternoon sessions, and probably at the École normale as well. A group photograph taken in 1929 shows him stand- ing directly behind his teacher, wearing dark glasses (figure 1). The fact that he was blind did not prevent him from visiting her at her summer house in Gargenville, a favour not granted to everyone. In his long and sometimes high- ly personal letters, he related the countless difficulties he had to overcome to earn a proper living in Quebec, despite the fact that he could proudly display a diploma from the École normale.14 Among other musical experiences, he shared with “Mademoiselle,” as she asked to be called, his enthusiastic reac- tion to The Rite of Spring, heard on public radio in 1933 and not yet performed in Montreal.15 The brilliant organist Françoise Aubut (1922–84) was arrested by the Ger- mans in December 1940 and detained, together with her sister Rachel, in a prison camp in Besançon, in occupied France, because of their Canadian cit- izenship. Both women were freed seven months later, in June 1941, and Rachel Aubut promptly announced to Boulanger (then living in the United States) that her sister had resumed the study of fugue (with Simone Plé-Caussade) and was looking forward to taking up the organ again (with Marcel Dupré) as soon as she would find an instrument.16 As already mentioned, study trips to Europe during the war were out of the question for most North Americans. Yet composer Jean Papineau-Couture (1916–2000) could not be content with any teacher other than Boulanger. As if to answer his wish, she was the one to cross the Atlantic in November 1940, having accepted an offer to teach at the Longy School in Harvard, near Bos- ton (1941–43) (see figure 2).17 His studies with her were to be a decisive experi- ence. During the course of his stay in the city, he, together with other students 13 The pianist and composer Nathaniel Dett (1882–1943), born in Southern Ontario, followed a reverse course. Trained in part in the United States, he studied with Boulanger in Paris after 1925 and returned to the United States where he made his mark as a specialist of African-American music. 14 Archives of the Bibliothèque Nationale de Paris, Nadia Boulanger fonds, N.l.a. 65/9–50. 15 Letter to Boulanger written on the day of Cusson’s 30th birthday, April 2nd 1933. 16 Card written by Rachel Aubut to a former student of Boulanger who served as one of her “liaison officers” in France during the war, Cécile Armagnac, 7 July 1941 (Nadia Boulanger fonds, N.l.a.50/384–89). 17 Her arrival had been announced for the beginning of the fall term. While waiting for her, Papineau-Couture enlisted for a year at the New England Conservatory (Bail Milot 1986, 23–25). 76 Intersections of Boulanger, attended concerts and private rehearsals of Stravinsky’s music, including the rarely heard melodrama Perséphone (1934), conducted by the composer (Bail Milot 1986, 23–26). Papineau-Couture, who was soon to become a true disciple and friend, helped Boulanger obtain a visa to remain in the United States in 1942, welcom- ing her as a guest in his Montreal home during the proceedings. He later joined her for ten weeks in Wisconsin in the summer of 1944. A photograph taken at Edgewood College during that summer and reproduced in Rosenstiel’s biog- raphy shows him in the midst of a group of fifteen nuns (1998, 327). Also ap- pearing in the photograph is the American Richard Johnston (1917–97), who partnered with Boulanger for the premiere performance of Stravinsky’s re- cently composed Sonata for Two Pianos (1944). Near the end of Boulanger’s stay in the United States, Papineau-Couture was also one of the happy few to meet her regularly at her retreat in California, near Santa Barbara, at the home of the wealthy Arthur Sachs family (figure 3). His wife Isabelle accompanied him and a few other Quebecers who moved in her Californian circle (which also included Stravinsky), notably  the young catholic priest Elzéar Fortier (1915– 84).18 Boulanger, who loved children, happily agreed to be the godmother of the Papineau-Couture’s first daughter, born in September 1945, and eloquently 18 Letters exchanged between Boulanger and her French-Canadian students indicate that at least one of Fortier’s two sisters, Cécile and Suzanne, might have visited him in California. Boulanger knew both women. Figure 1. Boulanger’s 1929 class at the École normale de Paris. Photographer unknown. Re- produced with kind permission of Bibliothèques et Archives nationales du Qué- bec, Gabriel Cusson fonds (MSS95, 006, 13). 33/2 (2013) 77 baptized Andrée-Nadia.19 In the years to come, Jean Papineau-Couture would become a leading figure in Quebec’s musical scene, notably as president of the Canadian League of Composers and dean of the Université de Montréal music faculty (1968–1973).20 Well aware of Boulanger’s close relationship with Stravinsky, former stu- dents occasionally turned to her for specific Stravinsky scores that were hard to find in Canada or for copies of his published talks in Harvard, Poétique musicale (1942).21 Scores and books would thus be sent, together with notes of support. Boulanger’s favourite gifts included scores of Bach (a cantata), Fauré, Debussy (the String Quartet) or Stravinsky, and on occasion Pascal’s Pensées. In return, students would help her acquire material for her courses or concerts. 19 A touching photograph of Nadia Boulanger holding the new born baby was used in the Mont- real newspapers on Boulanger’s visit in 1958 and is also reproduced in Louise Bail Milot’s biography of the composer (1986, 33). 20 Papineau-Couture also acquired a solid reputation as a teacher of theory at the Conserva- toire de musique et d’art dramatique in Montreal (1944–66), and of composition and acoustics at the Université de Montréal (1951–82). The Paris archives contain twenty-two letters written to Boulanger over thirty years, either by Jean Papineau-Couture or his wife Isabelle (N.l.a. 92/144, 92/147–83 and 92/186–88). See note 4 for details on Boulanger’s answers. 21 Stravinsky wrote at least part of Poétique musicale in Gargenville. Paul Valéry’s “Discours sur l’Esthétique” (1939) appear to have been a model for it. Boulanger greatly admired the French poet and essayist. She often quoted him and invited him to tea following her famous Wednesday sessions. Stravinsky’s essay, long believed to have been drafted substantially by Roland-Manuel on the basis of conversations with the composer, also greatly benefited from Pierre Souvtchinsky’s contribution (Dufour 2006, 213–44). The English translation of Poétique musicale did not appear until 1947 (Har- vard University Press), and this print run quickly sold out. The second edition appeared in 1970. I wish to thank the composer John Beckwith who brought my attention to this episode of Stravinsky’s career. Figure 2. Papineau-Couture (first row, fifth from left) with class of Nadia Boulanger (cen- tre, elbow on chair back) at the Longy School of Music, June 1942. Photographer unknown. This photograph appears in Louise Bail Milot’s biography of Papi- neau-Couture (1986, 27). Reproduced by kind authorization of the author and of Papineau-Couture’s daughter, Nadia. 78 Intersections While studying at the Eastman School of Music, Richard Johnston sent her in California, at her request, the score of Fauré’s Quartet for Piano and Strings, borrowed from the university music library.22 A year later, with immense pleasure, he attended the Fauré festival she organized in Boston in November 1945, a few weeks before her long-delayed return to France. Students’ letter also illuminate aspects of Boulanger’s career and her strug- gles through life. Thanks to Leonie Rosenstiel, whose controversial but de- tailed biography has yet to be surpassed,23 we already knew that during the war, notably while living in California, Boulanger tried to help friends still living in occupied France. She sent parcels and helped to raise money (1998, 315, 317, and 329). These efforts would not go unrewarded. Soon after she returned to Paris at the beginning of 1946 (she disembarked in La Pallice on 17 January), at a time when France was suffering from severe shortage of food and everyday life sup- plies, a number of her Canadian friends sent comforting letters, parcels, and goods. Among them was Elzéar Fortier. In his letters to Boulanger, Fortier later frequently alluded to the famous Wednesdays at rue Ballu and to the “Concerts Interalliés” he attended in Paris. From May 1934 onward, Boulanger conducted some concerts at this private “cercle” founded during the First World War.24 22 Boulanger to Johnston, 4 September 1944 (Nadia Boulanger fonds, Paris, N.l.a. 77 149–72). 23 Regarding some of Rosenstiel’s controversial methods of research, see Alexandra Laederich (2007b, 7n10). 24 Boulanger conducted a first concert for the Cercle interallié on 22 May 1934. Regarding this private club in which members of the Polignac family were involved, see, for instance, Alexandra Laederich (2007a, 186) and Jeanice Brooks (1993, 434–35). Figure 3. Feather Hill Ranch, Montecito (California), home of the Sachs family, winter 1944–45. Standing are Arthur Sachs (centre) and Igor Stravinsky (right). Sitting at the far left is Vera Stravinsky. Jean Papineau-Couture kneels in front, while his wife Isabelle and Elzéar Fortier, a Canadian Catholic priest, sit at the far right, beside Mrs. Sachs. Nadia Boulanger is sitting with a little girl in her lap. Photog- rapher unknown. Reproduced in Louise Bail Milot’s biography (1986, 29). Re- produced by kind permission of the author and of Papineau-Couture’s daughter, Nadia. 33/2 (2013) 79 As for Fortier, he later taught sacred music at Laval University, in Quebec City, and eventually became dean of the theology faculty of this institution.25 I have been able to find only a few newspaper articles dealing with Boulan- ger’s most significant visit to Canada, in May 1958.26 For her Canadian debut as a performer, she conducted a concert of choral works in Montreal, where she remained a few days. The program, produced by Société Radio-Canada / Canadian Broadcasting Corporation, included compositions from the French Renaissance (Claudin de Sermisy, Claude le Jeune, Roland de Lassus), short works by Fauré and Debussy, Stravinsky’s Mass for winds and chorus (1944– 48), the Psaume 150 for two soloists, winds, organ, and chorus by her pupil Jean Papineau-Couture (1954),27 and finally three compositions of her sister Lili Boulanger, including the Psaume 24 for double chorus. The performance was broadcast on 28 May throughout Canada, in the two official languages.28 In Montreal, the renowned musician and pedagogue met with some former students, members of a recently created association of music teachers, and the music critic Jean Vallerand (1958).29 She also gave a radio interview.30 During her stay in the city she was an honoured guest of the Papineau-Coutures. I have found no trace of her visit to Toronto in the local newspapers, so her stay, either before or after the Montreal concert, must have been brief. But I have gathered from the correspondence that at least two former students, Richard Johnston and Talivaldis Kenins, briefly met with her there. In their letters, students informed Mademoiselle of happy professional events, to which she often had given assistance by writing letters of recommendation.31 25 Fortier’s thirty-five letters to Boulanger are a valuable source of information on the problems of teaching and of composing modern religious music in Quebec (Archives of the Paris National Library, N.l.a. 70/273–323 and 70/330–44). 26 Soon to celebrate (16 September) her seventieth birthday and first invited as a fellow of the Institute of Contemporary Arts in Washington, Boulanger had asked her North American friends to help her make the crossing of the Atlantic worthwhile. The result was an exhausting six-week tour of American and Canadian cities that included guest appearances, lectures, and concerts in Madison, Boston, New Haven, New York, Postdam, Montreal, and Toronto (Rosenstiel 1998, 372–76). A second visit to Toronto, planned for 1965, never materialized (Johnston to Boulanger, 16 November 1963, Ar- chives of the Paris National Library, N.l.a. 77, 149–72). 27 The work was premiered in 1955. 28 This two-hour radio program, recorded in Montreal on 26 and 27 May, featured soloists Claire Duchesneau, soprano, and Pierre Boutet, tenor, the national radio orchestra, as well as a vocal ensemble prepared by George Little (“Les débuts canadiens de Nadia Boulanger” 1958; Pearce 1958). The program host on the French public network was Boulanger’s former student Maryvonne Kender- gi, mentioned above (Bail 2002, 281–82). Françoise Aubut played the main organ in this special con- cert (while another former student, the pianist Monik Grenier, acted as her page-turner). 29 A photograph of Mademoiselle Boulanger with a group of former students, as well as mem- bers of the Association des professeurs de musique du Québec, was taken at the Reine-Elisabeth Hotel, where a lunch was organized in her honour (“Nadia Boulanger, à Montréal, rencontre ses anciens élèves” 1958). Boulanger had previously written to Papineau-Couture, asking him to organize a meet- ing with some of her former students living in Quebec. She specifically named Gabriel Cusson, Abbé Claude Thompson, Mr. and Mrs. Yehuda Vineberg (a Montreal music teacher, composer and con- ductor), the Anhalts, as well as the Benedictine monk Dom Georges Mercure (Boulanger to Papineau- Couture, 7 May 1958, Isabelle and Jean Papineau-Couture fonds, MSS 99, box 14). 30 I have been unable to trace this radio interview. 31 Hungarian-born Istvan Anhalt, who had studied with Boulanger in Paris, wrote in March 1949 to announce his recent nomination as teacher at McGill Conservatory in Montreal, part of Mc- 80 Intersections Upcoming overseas trips would be announced, a rendez-vous requested, aspir- ing young pupils introduced. As would soon be the case for Olivier Messiaen (1908–92), another internationally renowned French teacher, Boulanger’s repu- tation as a pedagogue spread largely by word of mouth. In Canada, Gabriel Cusson encouraged his student Jean Papineau-Couture to go and study with her, and the latter passed on the torch to his own young pupil, Gabriel Char- pentier. Many examples of similar connections can be found. Boulanger highly valued faithfulness. Newly composed works were sent to her for approval, or at least comments, often no doubt with some apprehension. Sometimes manu- scripts could be lost in the process, at least temporarily, notably a Suite for Flute and Piano (1944–45) by Papineau-Couture, the object of many worried letters.32 Dedicated scores offered to Boulanger by her Canadian students are incident- ally to be found in the Médiathèque of the Conservatoire national supérieur de musique in Lyon; some annotated and revised manuscripts bear traces of a series of exchange between students and teacher. Such an esprit de clan, the feeling of an extended family of sorts, was strong- ly encouraged by Boulanger, hence the informal Wednesday gatherings after class. On this side of the Atlantic, former students exchanged among them- selves recent news pertaining to their teacher’s life or career.33 Istvan Anhalt and Papineau-Couture actually met in Montreal through her intervention. The former, who had recently moved to North America, was particularly grateful for it.34 I found it noteworthy that this camaraderie crossed language barriers, at times a delicate topic in Quebec. Students sometimes commented on socio-political events, as when Latvian- born Talivaldis Kenins confessed, in June 1959 (in the midst of the Cold War), his difficult adjustment to the overly calm Canadians, who appeared unworried that another conflict could start at any moment.35 Boulanger was also kept in- formed of recent events on the Canadian music scene, on different teaching methods used in schools throughout the country, and on the major supportive role played by the Canadian public radio network, SRC/CBC. In 1949, Richard Johnston, then living in Toronto, wrote to Boulanger that “Canadian Radio … may not be as fine as radio in France or England, but it is ten thousand times superior to anything you can mention in the U.S. Music means much to Can- adian radio and I am happy to say they are allowing me to put my foot in the door right now.”36 Gill University. Richard Johnston, born in Chicago, did the same after finding a teaching position at University of Toronto in June 1949. 32 The handwritten score must haven been eventually recovered or reconstituted, since the Suite is listed in Papineau-Couture’s list of works (Bail Milot 1986, 133 and 287). 33 For example, Richard Johnston had met Jean Papineau-Couture in California, and they oc- casionally wrote to one another. 34 Anhalt to Boulanger, 8 March 1949, Paris National Archives, N.l.a. 50, 384–89. 35 Nadia Boulanger fonds, Paris archives, N.l.a., 358–65. The composer Talivaldis Kenins (1919– 2008) fled his native Latvia, occupied by the Soviet Union after the war, to begin a new life in Paris where he met Boulanger (it is unclear whether he took courses with her or simply had personal con- tact). He moved to Canada in 1951 and wrote occasionally to “Mademoiselle,” always in French. 36 Johnston to Boulanger, 20 June 1949, Paris National Archives, N.l.a., 77, 149–72. 33/2 (2013) 81 The Rise of Modernism in Canada and Particularly in Quebec The more I explore this topic, the more I am convinced that the somewhat belated development of a current of musical modernism Canada is linked in many ways to Boulanger’s extensive international career as a teacher, particu- larly before the war, especially so in Quebec (see, e.g., Boivin 2009). In the early 1930s, according to Elliott Carter—born in 1908 in New York and a student between 1932 and 1935—Boulanger was the only teacher who took modern music seriously and who gladly explained it to her students (Carter 1995, 290). Anyone interested in Stravinsky’s music in the mid-1930s knew that Boulanger deeply admired his work (he was second only to Bach in her appreciation) and that she was close to him (Francis 2009). Going to her meant getting closer to the sun. This applied to Canadians as well. As we have seen, Jean Papineau- Couture moved for awhile, thanks to Boulanger, in the intimate circle of the great Russian composer. In Quebec he was soon to become the main ambas- sador of Stravinskyan neoclassicism37 and the music he wrote while study- ing with “Mademoiselle,” such as the Sonata in G major for violin and piano, composed in 1944, testifies to this major influence (richly dissonant chords, metrical irregularity, baroque-like phrasing and counterpoint, tight motivic development), quickly absorbed into his personal idiom (example 1).38 Boulanger often analyzed Stravinsky’s compositions for the benefit of her students or proposed them as models when discussing ways to solve a technical problem. On her piano, students would often find his latest composition in manuscript. She asked her students, notably the Americans, whom she found less well-trained in score-reading, to sight-read such difficult works as his Con- certo for Two Pianos (1935) (Rosenstiel 1998, 322). It should come as no surprise that, at least for the time of their studies with her, many of her pupils adopted a characteristic neoclassical and neo-tonal style, close to that of Stravinsky after 1920. This in itself, even if done with complete sincerity, would not guarantee her approval, however, for she had a remarkably discerning ear and could pin- point the weaker passages in an instant, often at her first glance on the score. “Too many notes” was a regular criticism (Rorem 1982, 1). Her dislikes could be just as firmly expressed as her devotions. For example, she had, a strong distaste for the music of Satie and, though sources disagree on this regard, Hindemith.39 And many knew how strong a “non-supporter” 37 Stravinsky’s first visit to Canada occurred in January 1937. On 5 January he conducted two of his Diaghilev ballet scores (Firebird and Petrouchka) with the Toronto Symphony Orchestra. The same month, together with the American violinist Samuel Dushkin (1891–1976), in Montreal Stravin- sky offered a recital of his music for violin and piano, including the Duo concertant (1931–32) and an arrangement of the Divertimento after Tchaïkovsky (1934). 38 This sonata has been notably recorded by the Quebec violinist Angèle Dubeau and pianist Louise-Andrée Baril (Analekta, FL 2 3159, 1995). 39 Among other sources, testimonies of Maryvonne Kendergi (Bail 2002, 102) and private com- munication from John Beckwith to this author. Boulanger met with Hindemith in Berlin in 1937 and, according to Rosenstiel, considered at that time having his treatise Craft of Musical Composition (pub- lished in German in 1937 and in English in 1941–52) translated into French (Rosenstiel 1998, 282; see also Schubert 1996, 37). She seemed to speak highly of his other pedagogical book, Elementary Training 82 Intersections of Schoenberg she was. Yet her preferences for a certain French manner of ex- pression  does not appear to have been as strongly imposed on the “Boulan- gerie” as is often assumed. Rarely discussed in private or in class (at least, I gather, before the Second World War), such prominent figures as Bartók, Mil- haud, Prokofiev, or Hindemith were nevertheless largely influential among her students, as was—naturally—Stravinsky. In Quebec, for example, these mod- ernist models inspired what has been called “a genuine Montreal School of composers,” regrouping a handful of musicians born at around the time of the First World War, whose scores are marked by the aesthetic innovations of the first half of the twentieth century, such as a free use of dissonance, non- functional harmony, metric irregularity, etc. Two of Boulanger’s students, Jean Papineau-Couture and Maurice Blackburn (1914–88), are included in this un- official circle (Potvin 1993b, 2200).40 Of course, musical quality can be found in any style and, in the long run, Boulanger’s remarkable openness to modern for Musicians (1946) and used it in her own teaching (Kendall 1976, 94). Yet she apparently had a limited respect for his later works (according to student George Wilson, quoted in Rosenstiel 1998, 360). 40 Other members named by music critic and historian Gilles Potvin are Alexander Brott (1915– 2005), Violet Archer (1913–2000), Robert Turner (1920–2012), and Jean Vallerand (1915–1994) (1993b, 2200). Example 1. First page of Papineau-Couture’s Sonata in G major for violin and piano, meas- ures 1–10 (1944, rev. 1953). With kind permission of the Canadian Music Centre / Centre de musique canadienne in Montreal. 33/2 (2013) 83 music appears to have mattered more than her occasionally expressed critical judgment of some of her contemporaries. Yet more should be said about her reactions to Schoenberg’s music, since the case is somewhat more complex and may well have had historical consequences. Boulanger has been described by the singer and long-time collaborator Doda Conrad (1905–97) as resistant to any theoretical system, hence her lack of inter- est in twelve-tone music (Conrad 1995, 186). Many students, including Copland and Carter, confirm her doubts regarding most of Schoenberg’s works, if not her clear aversion to them.41 Like Istvan Anhalt, those “in the know” quickly learned to keep their curiosity about the Second Viennese School to themselves: at the end of the 1940s, writes Anhalt’s biographer, she had “no use for Schoen- berg and his school and her resistance to twelve-tone music and its practition- ers was unshakable” (Elliott 2001, 21). As for Canadians, few had even heard Schoenberg’s music before the end of the Second World War, though some scores circulated among a few eager music students.42 Boulanger’s loyalty to Stravinsky implied that they would not learn much more about it in her com- pany. Of course other channels of transmission would be open and, in some quarters, the gap would eventually be filled. The influence of Schoenberg and Berg can thus be clearly heard in some Canadian works of the 1950s and 1960s, including, interestingly enough, the scores of a few Boulanger students, such as Papineau-Couture and Beckwith, but more prominently Istvan Anhalt in Montreal and Walter Buczynski (1933–) in Toronto. In fact, twelve-tone music was to become an important trend in Toronto, in great part because of the influence of the composer John Weinzweig (1913–2006), who studied music at the Eastman School of Music (1937–38) and afterwards enjoyed a long and in- fluential teaching career at University of Toronto. Parallel to the well-known ri- valry between Stravinsky and Schoenberg, clearly endorsed by Boulanger since the 1920s, many North American composers took sides as well. Two divergent modernistic branches undoubtedly developed in Canada at around the time 41 Boulanger’s antipathy to the Second Viennese School is often taken for granted; yet sources can be contradictory in that matter (as in others). For example, Elliott Carter writes that, according to what Copland had told him, she could play the entire score of Wozzeck at the piano, with the help of some able students (Carter 1995, 288). On another occasion, Carter remarks that “during the 1930s, she became less open to the Viennese School and to Bartók … she had turned away, little by little, from what was indeed already beginning to seem like ‘old-fashioned modernism’” (1999, 232). Yet she listened very attentively in the late 1950s to orchestral pieces by the three Viennese composers, con- ducted in Paris by Hans Rosbaud (1995, 289). While Boulanger’s reactions to atonal or dodecaphonic works could occasionally be positive (Rosenstiel 1998, 232), we also are told that numerous students heard harsh statements on Schoenberg’s music after the Second World War: “You call that music?” (339). In a concert review written for the Paris journal Spectateur in January 1947, Boulanger clearly stated her aesthetical opposition to twelve-tone music, a system that “seems to ignore or prohibit a sense of rest, and that is based only on the most complex of sonorous relationships” (quoted in Rosenstiel 1998, 338–39). Finally, according to Doda Conrad, above all things, she recommended that her students not show disdain for the works of the Second Viennese School so as not to create martyrs, to give the impression that a treasure was kept hidden (Conrad 1995, 187). 42 Violet Archer (1913–2000), a Montreal-born composer who studied with Bartók in New York in 1942, while war was raging overseas (and later with Hindemith at Yale), has declared that she had never heard Schoenberg’s music before she arrived in New York, where she regularly visited the music library of Columbia University (interview recorded in Archer 1983, seventh record). 84 Intersections of the Second World War, the local “Boulangerie” being rapidly categorized as the more conservative one.43 It is all the more significant that, despite what has been said or written about Mademoiselle’s selective tastes, her students rarely complained of a lack of openness, at least during the first part of her long teaching career.44 On the contrary, many would pay tribute to her willingness to accept the exception- al. She thoroughly knew such a tremendous quantity of music that there was much to take in, whatever her own aesthetic preferences. The truth is, the ma- jority of young Canadian composers-in-the-making who went to her needed to master their craft before they could focus on a contemporary idiom as such. Boulanger was a natural choice. To my knowledge, neither Darius Milhaud nor Olivier Messiaen, two other favourite Parisian teachers, devoted as much energy to insufficiently prepared students. As the American musicologist John Warten Struble aptly points out, “She held the view that a flawless technique, in every practical and theoretical aspect of music the student intended to pursue, was a prerequisite to success” (1995, 127). The basics must be firmly established before breaking the rules could ever be discussed. This strong conviction that writing music is a demanding craft that one must learn thoroughly remained the backbone of her pedagogy to the very end. Herself a pure product of the Paris Conservatoire composition class of the Fauré era, thus solidly tied to a far-reaching musical tradition, Boulanger taught the “materials of music” systematically and very efficiently, as we know from various testimonies. Working through the harmony treatise by Théodore Dubois, first published in 1921, was a standard procedure. Although he had already studied the same textbook in Montreal with former pupil Gabriel Cus- son, Jean Papineau-Couture had to begin all over again, from page one, under Mademoiselle’s guidance. Thereafter, André Gédalge’s monumental treatise on fugue would be put to similar use (1901), as were Paul Vidal’s famous key- board harmony exercises.45 Serious ear training was also mandatory. No one was considered a true musician until every single detail of what has been writ- ten down could be mentally heard.46 Composing or performing music was a very serious responsibility, and one’s entire life must be devoted to it (as she had done herself, while her younger sister Lili, who died at twenty-four, re- mained the perfect example of such an all-consuming dedication). “Mastery of all the basic mechanisms—whether in the areas of composition, score-reading 43 With the exception of Anhalt, composers in Montreal showed little interest in strict serial- ism before the 1950s. By that time, orthodox twelve-tone technique already seemed out of date for the young members of the avant-garde, especially when compared to Pierre Boulez’s first works. 44 Of course there are important exceptions, one being the fiercely critical Virgil Thomson (among other sources, Perlis and Van Cleeve 2005, 268–69; and Tomasini 1997, 99–100 and 129–30). I have not found any similar negative reaction in Canada, with the exception perhaps of Pierre Mercure, who attended only a few sessions at rue Ballu in 1949 and rapidly, yet discreetly, chose a different path, towards group improvisations and electronic music. 45 A selection of these were later revised, realized and published by Narcis Bonet as Paul Vidal, Nadia Boulanger: A Collection of Given Basses and Melodies (2006). 46 Every Wednesday, all students had to take part in the singing of great choral works, and many were entrusted to Boulanger’s long-time assistant, Annette Dieudonné (1896–1990), for regular and demanding solfeggio lessons. 33/2 (2013) 85 or instrumental control—was the essential pathway, as she saw it, for gaining access to a higher dimension in our art,” writes Dominique Merlet (2006, 3). As for Elliott Carter, he very clearly stated that the famous and frightening sight- reading and improvisation exercises most of her students had to go through were meant to “strengthen the intellectual muscles” and that in the “more or less progressive schools [he attended] in New York” there was no such em- phasis on memorization (1995, 291). This may well be a very important part of Mademoiselle’s legacy. Boulanger, who could play most of the Well-Tempered Clavier and many other works from memory, expected similar feats from her more gifted students. Later, many of them would be grateful for acquiring bet- ter learning abilities, albeit the hard way. A Shift of Status after the Second World War While for a long time Nadia Boulanger had had “the field entirely to herself,” to borrow the words of New York critic Harold C. Schonberg,47 her influence diminished after the war. She surely remained an internationally respected teacher, busier than ever—notably sought after, well into her sixties and sev- enties, by Americans and Eastern Europeans musicians—but she no longer was the shaping force in music that she had been for at least two decades (Spickett 1987, 138–40).48 Paris had changed in her absence, and a younger generation of musicians was now the centre of attention. It was Messiaen, not she, whom Paris Conservatoire director Claude Delvincourt named teacher of harmony in 1941, and a few years later, in 1946, head of a new music analysis class. The available position of teacher of composition was offered to Darius Milhaud, who shared it every other year with Jean Rivier. Upon her return to France, Delvincourt offered Boulanger only a class in piano accompaniment, although she had been teaching harmony for three decades and composition for just as long—for the most part unofficially.49 She was neither a man nor an active composer, yet gender might not have been the only issue. We must bear in mind that, in 1945, she was fifty-eight years old and, in the mind of some observers of the music scene, if not of her friends and students, “out of step with the current musical fashion,” as Rosenstiel put it (1998, 335).50 Messiaen, on the other hand, was 47 H.C. Schonberg, Musical Courier, April 1950 issue, quoted in Rosenstiel 1998, 353. Christiane Trieu-Colleney wrote more diplomatically that Boulanger dominated the English, American, and Polish schools of composition between 1920 and 1950 (1982, 83). 48 In a number of studies focused on post-1945 music, Boulanger’s name is totally absent (e.g., Graf 1978; Griffiths 1981; Bosseur and Bosseur 1986; Brindle 1987) or appears only as a strong neoclas- sicism advocate and as the teacher of composers such as Copland, Thomson, Sessions, Berkeley, or Serocki, without any detailed discussion of her influence (Vogt 1982, among other examples). 49 More than three decades earlier, in 1911, she had failed to succeed Paul Vidal as professor of piano accompaniment at the conservatoire, after his recent nomination as chair of the composition class (Rosenstiel 1998, 92). 50 Had she had been given the position in 1946, the conservatoire’s regulations would have obliged Boulanger to retire in 1958, when she would turn seventy. One could assume that director Delvincourt had a longer involvement in mind when he offered the class to Messiaen. The fact that she had fled from France in times of trouble may also have worked against her (Delvincourt himself took part in the resistance against the Germans and was considered a hero for saving male students of the conservatoire from the mandatory work service). 86 Intersections twenty years younger and a rising figure in French music. Though Boulanger still devoted most of her waking hours to teaching, Messiaen’s path-opening class at the conservatoire rapidly took the lead. Some promising French-Can- adian avant-garde composers became his students in music analysis, following in the footsteps of Pierre Boulez and Pierre Henry and having as classmates Stockhausen, Xenakis, and Gilbert Amy. Serge Garant (1929–86) and Gilles Tremblay (1932–) stand out among these early Canadian students of Messiaen (see Boivin 1995, 1996, 1997, and 2009). From the late 1940s onward, Boulanger seemed to deliberately avoid discus- sions of avant-garde composers or techniques, though by all accounts she was well informed of the contemporary music trends (Rosenstiel, 1998, 355; Beck- with 2012, 105, among other sources). Her name appears on the subscription list of the Concerts du Petit Marigny in Paris, founded by Boulez in 1954 (soon to be known as the Concerts du Domaine musical) (Conrad 1995, 186–87),51 and apparently she encouraged her students to attend as well.52 Copland testi- fied to having heard her “speak warmly of the music of the leader of the new movement, Pierre Boulez” (Copland 1963, 91).53 She asked her Canadian friend Jean Papineau-Couture to send her a recent collection of texts on electronic music.54 Yet her name was linked clearly with the neoclassical current (strong- ly denounced by Messiaen), although her students have come up with a variety of styles in their own works. Even if one disputes the unequivocal musico- logical tendency to focus on the new and the progressive, there are foundations to the “conservative” stamp opposed to her and her followers by composers of Boulez’s generation. The fact is that the basis of her teaching had barely altered since Copland and Cusson attended her class in the 1920s. Boyd McDonald remembers that in the mid – to late 1950s, “the class focused on Bach Can- tatas, Mozart’s opera Idomeneo, Stravinsky’s Agon, Perséphone and Oedipus Rex, the Copland Piano Sonata [and] Haydn Quartets”.55 The 1971 summer class in Fontainebleau was centred, as William Jordan remembers it, on Bach’s Well-Tempered Clavier and B-minor Mass, a Buxtehude Chaconne, the fugue from Beethoven’s Hammerklavier Sonata, Stravinsky’s Symphony of Psalms, Fauré’s Requiem, and, of course, Théodore Dubois’s Traité d’ harmonie.56 Dec- ades earlier, after the war, just a few months after her return to a disorganized 51 Jésus Aguila confirms that she attended concerts and suggests that she could have acted as Stravinsky’s Paris antenna (1992, 69n). 52 Boyd McDonald to the author, 28 July 28 2004. 53 She particularly admired the extraordinary quality of Boulez’s ear (Conrad 1975, 246). Again, sources are contradictory in that regard. According to the American composer Donald Harris, she refused to talk about the concerts at the Petit-Marigny theatre or to discuss Boulez, Messiaen, or Leibowitz’s music. “She was terribly bitter about Boulez in those days” (in Rosenstiel 1998, 355). As for John Beckwith, he knew better in 1951 than to mention to her that he had bought Messaien’s treatise Technique de mon langage musical (1944) and the score of his Vingt Regards sur l’Enfant-Jésus for piano (1944) (2012, 105). 54 Boulanger to Papineau-Couture, 5 April 1959, Isabelle and Jean Papineau-Couture fonds, Quebec National Archives in Montreal, MSS 099, box 14, 02–222). The collection referred to is National Research Council of Canada 1957. 55 Boyd McDonald to the author, 28 July 2004. See also Rosentiel 1998, 355. 56 William Jordan to the author, 12 January 2007. 33/2 (2013) 87 Paris, Boulanger had shared with Papineau-Couture—whose development as a composer she followed with sincere interest—her discomfort regarding the new trends: “It is spoken [here] of very dark and complicated ‘music.’ [Francis] Poulenc, [Léo] Préger, Jean Françaix, [Michel] Ciry write some that is clear, healthy, profound when it should be. And for those who really count, Stravin- sky holds the place that belongs to him.”57 Those definitely were the composers who “really counted” for her at that time. The previous remarks do not imply that Boulanger subsequently played only a minor role in postwar Canadian musical life, but rather that the impact of her ideas on composers became less obvious to the ear. She no longer was the prominent agent of modernization of music that she once was. Numer- ous European-born musicians had chosen Canada in the last years of the war or soon thereafter, and some eventually held prominent teaching positions. Through radio and recordings, recent works of Poulenc, Prokofiev, Stravinsky, and the like had become more accessible this side of the Atlantic. Avant-garde movements, quite distinct from the earlier “modernist” currents, appeared in the larger Canadian cities in the 1950s. Yet the list of students provided here (appendix), incomplete as it may be, proves that Canadian musicians still went to her in some numbers. In Canada, the training of composers left much to be desired, particularly in smaller towns. Boulanger certainly knew the right cure for that deficiency. “Learning to learn”: Complete Musicianship Even in view of all her impressive accomplishments, I believe that Boulanger’s competence in harmony, ear training, music analysis, and performance might not have been sufficient to create the legend. Without falling for a “sancti- fied” portrait of Mademoiselle, we are obviously dealing here with a rich and complex human being, towards whom distinct individuals could feel strong emotional bonds.58 Various testimonies, including touching letters from Can- adians, provide ample proof. She listened, gave advice, provided encourage- ment, asked for a constant surpassing of one’s abilities, and strongly promoted a thorough cultural education. Composer Gabriel Charpentier (1925–), much attracted to the Paris cultural scene, testifies that in 1947 many of his weekly lessons began by Boulanger ask- ing, “So, what have you done? What have you seen?” Teacher and pupil would then converse on a variety of subjects, covering poetry, theatre, literature, or 57 “On parle de ‘musiques’ très noires et compliqués. Poulenc, Préger, Jean Françaix, Ciry en écrivent de la claire, saine, profonde quand il se doit. Et auprès de ceux qui comptent, Stravinsky a la place qui lui revient” (Boulanger, 27 April 1946, Isabelle and Jean Papineau-Couture fonds, MSS 099, box 14, 02–222). 58 On the negative side, some Canadian students who met Boulanger in the last years of her career, when she was quite elderly, reacted strongly to some of her judgments regarding style, musical technique, or even one’s abilities (evaluated on the sole basis of one’s specific background). Her re- marks could often seem out of date, if not simply shocking. The manner in which she sometimes ad- dressed foreign students (and more specifically Asians or South Americans) in the summer of 1971 was particularly hard to comprehend for composer William Jordan and other North Americans who had graduated from a liberal university during the 1960s (Jordan to the author, 12 January 2007). 88 Intersections museum exhibitions.59 He once eloquently stated that she gave him the “taste of learning” (Charpentier 1980). One day, after they had discussed some piece of early music, he followed her advice and looked for ancient manuscripts at the National Library. Touching a handwritten score by Dufay proved a strong and memorable experience. Boulanger’s famous Wednesday afternoons, devoted for years to polyphonic works of the Renaissance and the baroque, were ground-breaking, as were her well-attended exposés on the history of Western music at the École normale in the 1930s. In her classes, on boulevard Malesherbes as well as rue Ballu, music was actually performed and heard, whereas at the Paris Conservatoire, Norbert Dufourcq tended to focus solely on dates and facts to be promptly memorized.60 Her erudition and experience as a performer of works by Janequin, Sermisy, Monteverdi, Bach, and others played a role in the establishment of an historical musicology in Quebec, according to the critic and composer Jean Vallerand (Lefebvre 1996, 88).61 The number of skilled teachers she had formed, later dis- persed throughout Canada, argues in favour of a similar acknowledgment from the rest of the country. Many important contributors to the seminal Encyclo- pedia of Music in Canada, first published in 1981, attended her class.62 For Boulanger, as for many of her Canadian pupils (such as Jean Papineau- Couture, Gabriel Charpentier, John Beckwith, Boyd MacDonald, or Kelsey Jones), modernism and “early music” were not necessarily opposed concepts. And that brings us back to the  “neoclassical” label, too rapidly applied, and often with derogatory implications. In retrospect, there was a strong logic to her battle in favour of both early and modern music, reconciled in Stravin- sky’s so-called neoclassical works. The much-criticized stylistic volte-face  of the Russian composer in the early 1920s appeared to her fully justified. After all, the composer of the Octet for wind instruments (1923) completely absorbed into his modern idiom the very same masters of the Renaissance, baroque, and Viennese classical period that constituted her prime teaching material. Sim- plicity of texture, purity and continuity of line (the famous grande ligne she sought in all the works she read or analyzed), total control over the material, full attention to every detail, restraint and the necessity of every note: those were the aims, they were the right paths to follow. Composer Boyd McDonald  sums up what clearly was a decisive experi- ence: “Boulanger’s basic philosophy has stayed with me through the years. She stressed concentration, paying attention, perseverance, careful revisions and follow through. She encouraged one to ‘make a decision.’ I have often had 59 Conversation with the author, 28 August 2004, Montreal. Charpentier later composed more than eighty incidental scores for the theatre and television. 60 The organist and musicologist Norbert Dufourq (1904–1990) taught music history and music- ology at the Conservatoire de Paris from 1945 to 1973. 61 Vallerand was not a student but had often heard about Boulanger from his friend Jean Papi- neau-Couture and was eager to meet the famous pedagogue when she visited Montreal in May 1958. See Vallerand 1958. 62 Among hundreds of contributors are former Boulanger students Kenneth Winters, Istvan Anhalt, John Beckwith, Andrée Desautels, Sterling Beckwith, and Elliott Weisgarber. Winters acted as co-editor, while Beckwith and Papineau-Couture were members of the board. 33/2 (2013) 89 occasion to remember her words, ‘Do not erase’—valuable in many walks of life” (McDonald to the author, 28 July 2004). Conclusion: “Music brings it all together”63 The undeniable impact of Nadia Boulanger as a teacher can be explained by many complementary factors, among others her strong personality and firm musical convictions, her phenomenal command of the keyboard, her profound knowledge of a huge repertoire, her ability to put words to musical emotions, and her astounding control over the “materials of music.” North Americans “found” her at the perfect time, and Americans scholars have emphasized the determining push she gave to young creative talents, such as Copland, Cart- er, and Harris. Although her professional and personal ties to Canada were unquestionably less numerous, she certainly left her mark north of the forty- ninth parallel. In the 1920s until at least the 1960s, Canadian music as a whole welcomed that kind of impulse. Not only did she contribute to the technical and artistic development of highly capable and talented composers, she also trained numerous pedagogues and performers, who rapidly joined emerging teaching institutions throughout the country, including conservatories and music faculties. Thus a large number of Canadian musicians indirectly bene- fited from her legacy.64 More specifically, she played a direct role in the professional life of many of her French-Canadian students, for example by confirming in writing the value of what they had learned in France so they could be offered a better teach- ing status and salary. Montrealer Isabelle Delorme (1900–91), for one, could thank Boulanger for improving her working conditions at the Conservatoire de Montréal.65 To be sure, Mademoiselle’s esteem—and sometimes affection— could prove a valuable passport. In those days, to have been a pupil, whether in France or in the United States, of this internationally celebrated pedagogue and performer could open many doors.66 But what did she have to say about modern Canadian music as a specific idiom? As some readers may well know, Nadia Boulanger had often expressed faith in “the future” of American music. She valued the fact that American com- posers did not attempt either to imitate the French, to “revamp” Russian music, or to dilute the German tradition. American music, she felt, tried to capture the mind and soul of its people.67 The integration of jazz or folk elements was 63 “La musique, c’est ce qui unit,” a Chinese saying Boulanger had once asked her students to meditate upon (Bail 2002, 77). 64 Only one of many examples, this author was taught the materials of music at Université de Montréal by Luce Beaudet, herself a former student of Rosette Renshaw (1920–98), a true disciple of Boulanger who taught, first in Montreal, and later at State University of New York in New Paltz. 65 Delorme to Boulanger, 9 June 1961, Nadia Boulanger fonds, Paris, N.la.a. 66, 201–22. 66 For example, the career in teaching and in Canadian public network broadcasting of the pianist and communicator Maryvonne Kendergi was clearly facilitated by the fact that she had stud- ied for many years with Boulanger in Paris in the 1930s (Bail 2002, 253). 67 Interview granted in 1928 by Boulanger to Irving Weil, correspondent of Musical America, quoted by Rosenstiel (1998, 224). 90 Intersections seen as a valuable solution.68 To my knowledge, Boulanger never uttered such a precise opinion on what Canadian music should be or become. She showed interest in its development, however, and was diligently provided information in writings by students such as Gabriel Cusson, Elzéar Fortier, Jean Papineau- Couture, Gabriel Charpentier, Richard Johnston, and Boyd MacDonald. According to the Canadian musicologist and pianist Elaine Keillor, many factors coalesced to make Canada a rich loam for the implantation of the neo- classical seeds before the Second World War Two, including the visits of Ravel to Vancouver, Toronto, and Montreal in 1928, and of Stravinsky to Toronto and Montreal in 1937; performances by pianists Léo-Pol Morin and Alberto Guerrero of modern European works in Montreal and Toronto respectively, as well as Papineau-Couture’s studies of Stravinsky’s music with Boulanger.69 The neoclassical adventure remains an important chapter of the history of musical modernism in Canada, yet it has inspired few musicological studies of importance.70 Scholars interested in Canadian music of the twentieth century are not so numerous and many of them, including this author, have chosen to concentrate their efforts, during the last decades, largely on the development of the avant-garde after the Second World, notably in Toronto and in Quebec. This article may contribute to filling a gap in Canadian cultural history as well as in Nadia Boulanger studies. 68 “I believe in the music born of Jazz, in the music born in New York, in the music born also of the sun, the desert, the immense mountains” declared Boulanger to Minerva journalist Simone Ratel in the summer of 1928 (quoted in Rosenstiel 1998, 222). Together with Antonin Dvořák, Boulanger is considered an important European advocate for art music in the United States, given the number of her students who successfully exploited the American vernacular (Lubet 1999, 95). 69 Gilles Potvin has written an interesting account of Ravel’s visit to three Canadian cities (1988, 149–163). As for Stravinsky, he returned to Montreal in 1945 to conduct some of his orchestral works. 70 A notable exception is a chapter entitled “The 1950s: Neo-classicism at Its Height” in George Proctor’s Canadian Music of the 20th Century (1980, 61–102). 33/2 (2013) 91 Appendix. Boulanger’s Canadian Studentsa When Whob Where (and what)c What they became 1924–30 Cusson, Gabriel (1903–1972) rue Ballu École normale Gargenville Cellist, composer, and teacher. Taught in Mont- real (Conservatoire de musique). Probably Boulanger’s first Canadian student. Teacher of Jean-Papineau-Couture and Michel Perrault. 192? Stewart, Reginald (Scotland, 1900– California, 1984) rue Ballu Pianist, conductor, administrator, teacher. Large part of his conducting career in Canada and the United States (Toronto, New York, etc.). Head of the Peabody Conservatory (1941–58). 1925–27 Doyon, Paul (1903–86) École normale rue Ballu ? Pianist and organist. Also studied with Alfred Cortot and Louis Vierne in Paris. Career in Montreal. Gave occasional concerts and talks in the United-States. See 1929–30. 1928–30 Roubakine, Boris (Swizerland, 1908– Calgary, 1974) École normale (piano repertoire) Pianist, teacher. Russia-born parents. Gave many concerts with violinist Bronis- law Huberman. Canadian resident in 1949. Taught in Toronto (Royal Conservatory of Music and University of Toronto), Banff, University of Alberta, University of British Columbia, and University of Calgary. 1929–30 Doyon, Paul École normale rue Ballu See 1925–27. 1929–33 Kendergi, Maryvonne (Armenian Turkey, 1915–2011) École normale rue Ballu Pianist, teacher, music historian, radio pre- senter, teacher. Largest part of her career in Montreal, well- known personality. Canadian citizen since 1960. 1930? Landry, Hélène (Ottawa, ?–?) École normale (harmony) Pianist and teacher. Taught in Ottawa (Uni- versity of Ottawa, 1931–?) and in Quebec City (Conservatoire de musique, from 1944 to late 1960s). 1930? LeBlanc, Arthur (1906–85) École normale Violinist and composer. Previous studies in Boston and New York. First violinist in the Orchestre de Paris in 1935–36. 1930–34? (at least 1933) (summers) Sampson, Peggie (Scotland, 1912–2004) Fontainebleau? rue Ballu (harmony, counterpoint) Cellist, gambist, and teacher. Immigrated to Canada in 1951 (Canadian citizen in 1973). Teacher at University of Manitoba (1951–70) and York University (1970–77). 1932–35 Ronan, John (1894–1962) rue Ballu ? Administrator, clergyman, teacher, choir conductor, composer, specialist in Gregor- ian chant. While studying in Rome, period of training in Paris. Also student of Louis Vierne. Worked in Toronto. 1938? Aubut, Françoise (1922–84) rue Ballu, École normale Organist and teacher. Also studied with Messiaen. Multiple prizewinner at the Paris Conservatoire (previous studies in Boston). Introduced music of Dupré and Messiaen in a long list of concerts in Quebec, Ontario, etc. Teaching career in Quebec City and Montreal. Many well-known musicians among her students. a Many names must surely be added to this list. Musicians have been included only when sufficient details could be provided. b Place of birth is specified only for students not born in Canada. c Unless I had a personal contact with a student, this information was found in printed sources such as biographical notes and is not always precise or reliable. . . . . . . . . . . . . 92 Intersections Appendix. Boulanger’s Canadian Students (cont’d) When Whob Where (and what)c What they became 1941–43 Papineau-Couture, Jean (1916–2000) Longy School, Cambridge Composer, pianist, administrator. An import- ant Canadian student of Boulanger (she conducted his Psalm CL in Montreal in 1958). Admirer of Stravinsky and lifelong friend of Boulanger. Large output as a composer. Dean of Université de Montréal music faculty (1968–73). See 1944–45. 1942–43 Lavoie, Claude (1918—?) Longy School, Cambridge Organist, composer, and teacher. Professional organist and teacher in Quebec City (Conser- vatoire de musique, 1952–79). 1943 Johnston, Richard (Chicago, 1917– Calgary, 1997) Madison (Wisconsin) Composer, teacher, administrator, editor, music critic, conductor, radio presenter. Canadian citizen in 1957. Taught theory at Uni- versity of Toronto (1947–68). Also worked for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation (CBC). With Boulanger, played the American premiere of Stravinsky’s Sonata for Two Pianos (1944). 1944–45 Papineau-Couture, Jean Madison (Wisconsin) and Santa Barbara (California) See 1941–43. 1944–46 Fortier, Elzéar (Mgr.) (1915–87) Santa Barbara (California) and Paris, rue Ballu Clergyman, composer, teacher, and admin- istrator. Teacher in the music department of Université Laval (Quebec City) and later dean of the theology faculty. Composer of religious works. 1946–47 Perrault, Michel (1925–) École normale Composer, conductor, percussionist. Previ- ously a student of Gabriel Cusson. Also a student of Arthur Honegger in Paris. Worked as composer for the CBC (1949–68). Between 1946 and 1949 Desautels, Andrée (Montréal, 1923–) rue Ballu (analysis, choir) Music historian, teacher. First prize in music history from Conservatoire de Paris. Taught in Montreal (Conservatoire de musique, 1949– 88) and Université de Montréal (1961–64). 1946–48 Landry, Jeanne (Ottawa, 1922–2011) rue Ballu Pianist, accompanist, composer, teacher. Career in Montreal and Quebec City. Involved in modern and contemporary music scene. Taught at Université Laval (Quebec City, 1951–83). 1946–49 Anhalt, Istvan (Budapest, 1919–2012) rue Ballu Composer, teacher, writer. Previously a student of Kodály. Canadian citizen in 1955. Teacher at McGill University in Montreal (1949–71). Founder of the McGill electronic music studio. Also taught at Queen’s Univer- sity in Ontario (1971–84). Many composers and musicians among his students. 1946–48 Blackburn, Maurice (1914–88) rue Ballu? Composer, conductor, instrument inventor, film specialist. Previous study in Boston. Long career as composer of film music in Ottawa and Montreal for the National Film Board (1942–78). Later a student of P. Schaeffer in Paris. . . . . . . . . . . . . 33/2 (2013) 93 Appendix. Boulanger’s Canadian Students (cont’d) When Whob Where (and what)c What they became 1947 (summer) Beaudet, Pierre (1924–2002) Fontainebleau Pianist, accompanist, coach, composer. Previous studies with G. Cusson. Worked in Montreal for the CBC (radio and television). 1947–53 Charpentier, Gabriel (1925–) rue Ballu Composer, poet, artistic advisor, teacher. Previous studies with J. Papineau-Couture. Also studied Gregorian chant. Career in Mont- real for the CBC as composer and advisor (1954–80). Composer of many scores for television and theatre. 1948–49 Heller, Irving (Rhode Island, 1926–BC, 2003) Paris Conserva- toire and rue Ballu? (composition) Pianist, teacher. Previous study in New York and California. Canadian citizen in 1960. Taught piano in various institutions in Montreal (Conservatoire de musique, 1960–78) and Ottawa. For many years co-director of an important music competition in Montreal. End of life in Victoria, BC. 1949–50 Jones, Kelsey (Connecticut, 1922–2004) rue Ballu (composition) Composer, harpsichordist, organist, pianist, teacher. Moved to Canada in 1945, Can- adian citizen in 1956. Previous study in New Brunswick and Toronto. Taught counterpoint at McGill University (1954–84). Baroque or classical forms and techniques used in many of his works. 1950 Sieb, Calvin (New Jersey, 1925–2007) Fontainebleau and rue Ballu (composition, aesthetics) Violist, conductor, teacher. Taught in the con- servatoires of Quebec (1951–56) and Montreal (1955–79). Violist in various formations, includ- ing Montreal Symphony Orchestra (1960–79). Violin teacher at the University of Ottawa. 1950 Mercure, Pierre (1927–1966) rue Ballu Composer and television producer. Briefly a student of Boulanger. Interested in improvisa- tion and electroacoustic music. Co-founder of the Société de musique contemporaine du Québec (Montreal). 1950 Émond-Mercure, Monique (1930–) rue Ballu Cellist and comedian, first wife of composer Pierre Mercure (see above). 1950? Weisz, Robert (Roumania, 1925–) rue Ballu? Pianist. Lived and studied in Switzerland. Canadian citizen in 1975. Piano teacher at Université Laval, Quebec City (1969–99). 1950–52) Beckwith, John (1927–) rue Ballu Composer, music critic, writer, pianist, lec- turer, radio producer and presenter, teacher, musicologist. Large output as a composer and writer. Pieces for wind instruments written in Paris. Career in Toronto. Strong supporter of Canadian music. 1951 Renshaw, Rosette (1920–1998) rue Ballu? Teacher, ethnomusicologist. Taught in Mont- real (1956–70) and in the United States (State University of New York in New Paltz). Special- ist in Indian music. Studied the Boulanger’s archives fonds in Lyon. 1951? Wood, Robin (1924–2004) rue Ballu? Pianist, teacher, administrator. First taught in London. After 1965, career as pianist and teacher at Victoria Conservatory of Music, BC. . . . . . . . . . . . . 94 Intersections Appendix. Boulanger’s Canadian Students (cont’d) When Whob Where (and what)c What they became 1952 Rogers, William Keith (Charlottetown, 1921–) rue Ballu? Composer. Previous studies at Juilliard. Moved to Montreal in 1960 and later apparently aban- doned music. See 1954–55. 1952–53 Weisgarber, Elliot (Massachusetts, 1919–2001) rue Ballu Composer, clarinettist, ethnomusicologist. Previous studies at Eastman School of Music. Canadian citizen in 1975. Teaching career at University of British Columbia (1960–84). Specialist in Asian music. 1952–53 Beckwith, Sterling (New York, 1931–) Fontainebleau rue Ballu Conservatoire Conductor, musicologist, concert singer, coach, and festival organizer. Further studies in Rome, Salzburg, and St. Petersburg. Immi- grated to Canada in 1969 as founding director of York University’s Music Department. 1952–53? Gilbert, Kenneth (1931–) rue Ballu? (composition) Harpsichordist, organist, musicologist, teacher. International career as harpsichordist. Lives mostly in France. 1952–55 Matton, Roger (1929–2004) rue Ballu Composer, ethnomusicologist, teacher. Also studied with Messiaen. His Concerto for Two Pianos and Percussion (1955) com- posed in Paris. Worked in Quebec City as ethnomusicologist. 1952?– 1955 Mercure, Georges (Dom) (1905–1993) rue Ballu (harmony and counterpoint) Organist, choir conductor, teacher, specialist of Gregorian chant. Studied notably in Paris and Solesmes. Since 1923, Benedictine monk in Quebec (St-Benoît-du-Lac and Mont-Laurier). Translator into French and composer of many volumes of liturgical chants. 1953 Martin, Raymonde (1923–) Fontainebleau Cellist, teacher. Not a proper student but played in Fontainebleau under the direction of Boulanger. Taught in Ottawa and Hull. 1953–54 Berry, Wallace (Wisconsin, 1928– Vancouver, 1991) rue Ballu? Composer, theorist, teacher, pianist, adminis- trator. Teaching career in Michigan (1957–77) and British Columbia (after 1984). Many publi- cations on music theory. 1954? Vineberg, Yehuda (ca. 1925–1999) rue Ballu? Montreal music teacher, composer, and choir conductor, specialized in Hebrew liturgical and Jewish music. 1954–55 Rogers, William Keith rue Ballu? Cf. 1952. between 1954 and 1957 Grenier, Monik (1931–) Conservatoire rue Ballu Pianist, accompanist, teacher. Also a student of Marguerite Long and Yvonne Loriod. Career as accompanist and opera coach in Montreal. 1955 MacDonald, Boyd (1932–) Fontainebleau Composer, pianist, pianofortist. Taught theory and piano at University of Manitoba (1967–76) and Wilfrid Laurier University, Ontario (1976–96). 1955 and 1956 Thompson, Claude (Mgr.) (1927–) Fontainebleau Composer, pianist, choir conductor, teacher. Catholic priest of high rank. Teacher and choral conductor in Trois-Rivières, Quebec. . . . . . . . . . . . . 33/2 (2013) 95 Appendix. Boulanger’s Canadian Students (cont’d) When Whob Where (and what)c What they became 1955 and 1956 Delorme, Isabelle (1900–91) Fontainebleau Pianist, composer, theory teacher. Teaching career in Montreal. Her harmony treatise was approved by Boulanger in 1967 but remained unpublished. Teacher of many Quebec com- posers (Matton, Hétu, Morel, Prévost). 1955–57 Schermann, Paul (1907–96) rue Ballu? Conductor, violinist. Violinist in the Toronto Symphony Orchestra (1932–52). Conductor or member of different orchestras, in Europe and Canada. 1957–60 MacDonald, Boyd rue Ballu and Fontainebleau See 1955. In Paris composed his Suite for Nine Solo Instruments (1959). 1959–60 Winters, Kenneth (1929–2011) rue Ballu? Music critic, composer, choir conductor, radio presenter, editor. Career as art critic and radio presenter (CBC), mostly in Toronto. Co-editor of the Encyclopedia of Music in Canada (1981, 1992). 1960, 1962 Buczynski, Walter (1933–) rue Ballu? Pianist, composer, teacher. Previous studies with Milhaud in Aspen. Career as pianist and, in Toronto, as teacher of theory composition since 1969. Large output as a composer. 1963–64 Ozolins, Arthur (Germany, 1946–) rue Ballu Pianist. Parents Latvia-born. Canadian citizen in 1964. Further studies in New York and Paris. Promoter of Latvian and Canadian music for piano. 1967–70 Schubert, Peter (New York, 1946–) rue Ballu (1967–69) and Fontainebleau (summers of 1968 and 1970) Musicologist and choir conductor. PhD from Columbia University. Now a Canadian citizen. Acclaimed choir conductor. Professor at McGill University. Author (and co-author) of highly regarded textbooks on Renaissance and baroque counterpoint. 1969, 1970 (summers) Caplin, William (Chicago, 1948–) Fontainebleau (harmony and analysis) Theorist specializing in the study of eighteenth- century musical forms and in the history of theory, whose publications have been awarded prestigious prizes. Came to Canada in 1978 and has been teaching since then at McGill University. 1969–71 Koprowski, Peter Paul (Poland, 1947–) rue Ballu? Composer, conductor, pianist, teacher. Moved to Canada in 1971, A Canadian citizen since 1976. Taught in Toronto, Montreal, and London (Ontario). As a composer, notably influenced by Renaissance composers (Ockeghem and Josquin). 1971 (summer) Jordan, William (Athens, Georgia, 1951–) Fontainebleau (harmony, counter- point, composition) Composer and teacher. PhD in music theory. Also a student of George Crumb. Taught theory at University of Florida. Moved to Cal- gary in 1978 (teacher of theory and compos- ition at University of Calgary). Has composed over 200 works. 1971–73 Phillips, Edward R. (1949–) Fontainebleau, rue Ballu Music theorist, organist, and teacher. PhD from Yale. Specialist of Fauré’s music. Taught at University of Guelph, retired in 2011. . . . . . . . . . . . . 96 Intersections Appendix. Boulanger’s Canadian Students (cont’d) When Whob Where (and what)c What they became 1971, 1973 (summers) Wright, Patricia (1951–) Fontainebleau Organist and choir conductor. Doctorate of musical arts from Yale. Active as a recitalist. Taught at University of Ottawa. Since 1986, organist and music director at Metropolitan United Church in Toronto. 1973–79 Boulanger, Richard (1947–) rue Ballu (music analysis, accompaniment, etc.) Pianist and musicologist. Studied six years with Boulanger. PhD in musicology from Université de Paris-Sorbonne. Teaches at Uni- versité de Moncton, New Brunswick. Director of the Music Department. 1974–75 Labelle, Nicole (1946–) rue Ballu Musicologist, teacher, pianist, organist. Previ- ous studies with Boulanger’s former student Françoise Aubut. Teacher at University of Ottawa since 1976. Specialist in French com- poser Albert Roussel and women composers. 1975–76 Amstrong, John Gordon (1952–) rue Ballu Composer, studied at the University of Toronto and University of Michigan (PhD in compos- ition). Teacher at the University of Ottawa. 1976–77 Century, Michael (1955–) rue Ballu Composer, pianist, conductor, musicologist, administrator. Further studies in Berkeley. Career as teacher and administrator at the Banff Art Centre. Interested notably in elec- tronic music. Possibly the last of Boulanger’s Canadian students. References Aguila, Jésus. 1992. Le Domaine musical: Pierre Boulez et vingt ans de création contemporaine. Paris: Fayard. Bail, Louise. 2002. Maryvonne Kendergi, la musique en partage. Montreal: HMH. Beckwith, John. 2012. 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Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press. ———. 2008. “Istvan Anhalt and New Music at McGill.” Compositional Cross- roads: Music, McGill, Montreal, ed. Eleanor V. Stubley, 33–55. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press. Francis, Kimberley. 2009. “Nadia Boulanger and Stravinsky: Documents of the Bibliothèque Nationale de France.” Revue de musicologie 95 (1): 137–56. Gedalge, André. 1901. Traité de la fugue. Vol. 1, De la fugue d’ école. Paris: Enoch. Graf, Max. 1978. Modern Music: Composers and Music of Our Time. Westport, CT: Westwood. Griffiths, Paul. 1981. Modern Music: The Avant-Garde since 1945. New York: Braziller. Kallmann, Helmut, and Gilles Potvin, eds. 1993. The Encyclopedia of Music in Canada / Encyclopédie de la musique au Canada, 2nd ed. http://www. thecanadianencyclopedia.ca. 98 Intersections Keillor, Elaine. 1993. “Néolassicisme.” In Encyclopédie de la musique au Can- ada, ed. Helmut Kallmann and Gilles Potvin, 2:2384–86. 2nd ed. Montreal: Fides. ———. 2006. Music in Canada: Capturing Landscape and Diversity. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen’s University Press. Kendall, Alan. 1976. The Tender Tyrant: Nadia Boulanger, a Life Devoted to Music, foreword Yehudi Menuhin. London: MacDonald and Jane’s. Hindemith, Paul. 1942. The Craft of Musical Composition. Vol. 1, Theoretical Part, trans. Arthur Mendel. London: Schott Music. ———. 1946. Elementary Training for Musicians. New York: Associated Music Publishers. Laederich, Alexandra. 2007a. “Au clavier et au pupitre: les concerts de Nadia Boulanger de 1901 à 1973.” In Nadia Boulanger et Lili Boulanger, témoigna-témoigna- ges et études, ed. A.  Laederich, 173–90. Lyon: Symétrie, coll. Perpetuum mobile. ———, ed. 2007b. Nadia Boulanger et Lili Boulanger, témoignages et études. Lyon: Symétrie, coll. Perpetuum mobile. “Les débuts canadiens de Nadia Boulanger.” 1958. La Semaine à Radio-Canada 8 (34): 1 and 7. Lefebvre, Marie-Thérèse. 1996. Jean Vallerand et la vie musicale du Québec, 1915–1994. Montreal: Méridien. ———. 2004. Rodolphe Mathieu, l’ émergence du statut professionnel de com- positeur au Québec, 1890–1962. Montreal: Septentrion, coll. Cahiers des Amériques. “Lili et Nadia Boulanger.” 1982. La Revue musicale 353–54, special issue. Linteau, Paul-André, René Durocher, Jean-Claude Robert, and François Ri- card. 1989. Histoire du Québec contemporain. Vol. 1, Le Québec depuis 1930. 2nd rev. ed. Montreal: Boréal. Lubet, Alex J. 1999. “Indeterminate Origins: A Cultural Theory of American Experimental Music.” In Perspectives on American Music since 1950, ed. James R. Heintze, 95–140. New York: Garland. Merlet, Dominique. 2006. “Preface.” In Narcis Bonet, Paul Vidal, Nadia Bou- langer: A Collection of Given Basses and Melodies, 3. Barcelona: DINSIC. “Nadia Boulanger, à Montréal, rencontre ses anciens élèves.” 1958. La Presse, 31 May. National Research Council of Canada. 1957. Papers on Electronic Music. Ot- tawa: National Research Council. English translation of fifteen articles first edited by the Nordwestdeutscher Rundfunk, and an article by Hugh Le Caine. Pearce, Pat. 1958. “Famed Musician Here.” Montreal Star, 28 May. Perlis, Vivian, and Libby Van Cleeve, eds. 2005. Composers’ Voices from Ives to Ellington: An Oral History of American Music. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press. Pollack, Howard. 1999. Aaron Copland: The Life and Work of an Uncommon Man. New York: Henry Holt. 33/2 (2013) 99 Potvin, Gilles. 1993a. “France.” In Encyclopédie de la musique au Canada, ed. Helmut Kallmann and Gilles Potvin, 1273–78. 2nd ed. Montreal: Fides. ———. 1993b. “Montréal.” Encyclopédie de la musique au Canada, 2d ed., ed. Helmut Kallmann and Gilles Potvin, 2196–2204. Montreal: Fides. ———. 1998. “Maurice Ravel au Canada.” In Musical Canada, ed. J. Beckwith and F. A. Hall, 149–63. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Proctor, George. 1980. Canadian Music of the 20th Century. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Rorem, Ned. 1982. “The Composer and the Music Teacher.” New York Times, 23 May. http://www.nytimes.com/1982/05/23/books/the-composer-and-the- music-teacher.html. Rosenstiel, Léonie. 1998. Nadia Boulanger: A Life in Music. 2nd ed. New York: Norton, 1998. Schubert, Giselher. 1996. “Hindemith et la France.” In “Paul Hindemith,” spe- cial issue of Ostinato Rigore 6–7:27–40. Spickett, Jérome. 1987. Nadia Boulanger. Lausanne: Lattès/Payot. Stravinsky, Igor. (1942) 1952. Poétique musicale, sous forme de six leçons. New Haven, CT: Harvard University Press. Reprint, Paris: Éditions Le bon plai- sir / Plon. Citations refer to the Harvard edition. Struble, John Warthen. 1995. The History of American Classical Music, Mac- Dowell through Minimalism, foreword Philip Glass. New York: Facts on File. Tomasini, Anthony. 1997. Virgil Thomson: Composer on the Aisle. New York: Norton. Trieu-Colleney, Christiane. 1982. “Nadia Boulanger.” In “Lili et Nadia Boulan- ger,” special issue of La Revue musicale 353–54, 70–103. Vallerand, Jean. 1958. “Nadia Boulanger parmi nous.” Le Devoir, 31 May. Vogt, Hans. 1982. Neue Musik seit 1945. Stuttgart: Reclam. Walter, Arnold. 1968. “Le développement de l’éducation musicale.” In As- pects de la musique au Canada, ed. Arnold Walter, dir. Gilles Potvin and Maryvonne Kendergi, 243–81. Montreal: Centre de psychologie et de pédagogie. Other Sources Archer, Violet. 1983. Anthologie de la musique canadienne / Anthology of Can- adian Music, Radio-Canada International, ACM 17, seven records. Charpentier, Gabriel. 1980. Radio interview by Renée Larochelle, “La vie quo- tidenne,” 23 October, archives of the Radio-Canada French radio network, Montreal. Papineau-Couture, Jean. 1995. Sonata in G for Violin and Piano, Angèle Dubeau, violin, Louise-Andrée Baril, piano, compact disc, Analekta ANC 2 8710, “Opus Québec.” Archives Gabriel Cusson fonds, MSS 095, Bibliothèque et Archives Nationales du Qué- bec, Montreal. 100 Intersections Isabelle and Jean Papineau-Couture fonds, MSS 099, Bibliothèque et Archives Nationales du Québec, Montreal. Nadia Boulanger fonds (correspondence received by Boulanger), Département de la musique, Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris, N.l.a. 50. ABSTRACT This article traces the rich Canadian legacy of the twentieth-century French musical legend Nadia Boulanger (1887–1979). Through teaching her more than seventy Can- adian students, both French- and English-speaking, the renowned French pedagogue played a crucial role in the development of concert art music in this country from the 1920s, notably in Montreal and Toronto. Her numerous Canadian students went on to distinguish themselves as composers, teachers, performers, musicologists, theorists, administrators, and radio producers. Drawing on extensive archival and primary re- search, this study demonstrates the decisive impact Boulanger had on the development of musical styles and compositional practices in Canada in the last century. RÉSUMÉ Cet article retrace le riche héritage canadien de la grande personnalité de la musique française du XXe siècle qu’était Nadia Boulanger (1887–1979). À travers son enseigne- ment auprès d’une soixantaine d’élèves canadiens, tant francophones qu’anglophones, la célèbre pédagogue française a joué un rôle important dans le développement de la musique de concert au Canada à partir des années 1920, en particulier à Montréal et à Toronto. Ses nombreux étudiants canadiens ont continué de se démarquer en tant que compositeurs, enseignants, artistes, musicologues, théoriciens, administrateurs, et producteurs de radio. En se basant sur une longue recherche dans les archives et les sources de première main, l’auteur démontre l’impact décisif qu’a eu Nadia Boulanger sur le développement de styles musicaux et de pratiques compositionnelles au Canada au cours du siècle dernier. 
work_tyfrscekgranhjpxepbm33dkia	----	Book Notices the Great Depression and its aftermath; World War II and its aftermath. During the second period there was active expansion: the School of Hygiene in 1925, the first of its kind in the U.S.A., and no less than eleven further major additions to the Medical Institutes. These included the Welch Medical Library and the world- renowned Institute of the History of Medicine, dedicated in 1928. History of medicine had been a feature of the Hospital and School from the beginning, fostered by Osler, Welch, Kelly, Jacobs, and many other staff members. Garrison was first Librarian and Welch the first occupant of the endowed chair in the history of medicine (1926), to be followed by Henry E. Sigerist, Richard H. Shryock, Owsei Temkin, and the present holder Lloyd G. Stevenson. Throughout its history the Johns Hopkins has been dependent upon the society it is part of, and in its turn has given back to society benefits both locally to Baltimore, and nationally and internationally by providing a centre of excellence for teaching, training, and research. Throughout its eighty or so years of existence the Hospital and Medical School have maintained consistently their position as one of the most outstanding medical institutions in the world, what Alan Gregg called "the heritage of excellence", a phrase selected by Dr. Turner for his title. It is against this intellectual and inspiring environment, compounded of dedicated members of staff and top- quality students, that the recorded events of history are here portrayed. It is a remarkably full record, some may say too full, and the author has called upon his own experience as well as using archives to provide a living account of a remarkable phenomenon. It will be read widely because of this, both to inform and to inspire. It can be warmly recommended. Book Notices H. M. KOELBING (ed.), Carl August Wunderlich, Wien und Paris. Ein Beitrag zur Geschichte und Beurteilung der gegenwdrtigen Heilkunde in Deutschland und Frankreich, 1841, Berne, H. Huber, 1974, pp. 159, illus., DM. 25 (DM.19 paperback). In the first half of the nineteenth century Paris was the predominant medical centre in Europe, but in the 1840s Vienna and other German cities had already begun to overtake the French capital, eventually to displace it. Wunderlich (1815-1877), a typical product of the new German school of clinical medicine and pathological anatomy, was in 1841 the author of the book that is here re-published. In it he wished to -bring to the attention of his readers the activities of two cities of outstanding medical excellence. It, therefore, provides us with a vivid account of the best in European medicine as practised in 1840. Among the many interesting features are Wunderlich's remarks concerning the medical specialities in their embryonic forms. Professor Koelbing provides an introduction, dealing mainly with Wunderlich and his medical career. There are also notes to the essay, a glossary of obscure words, and a list of individuals mentioned. Descriptions of contemporary medicine, especially if recorded by an acute and critical observer, are documents of the greatest value to the historian. We are, there- fore, grateful to Professor Koelbing for providing us with a scholarly edition of this one. 205 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Notices DOROTHY M. SCHULLIAN (ed.), The Baglivi Correspondence from the library of Sir William Osler, Ithaca and London, Cornell University Press, 1974, pp. xxi, 531, £22.50. Although no more than twenty-three letters out of a total of 173 come from Baglivi's own hand and these are spread over a period of twenty-one years, they do afford some insight into his character and habits, his ideas, his theories, his reactions to other people's views and, in one case, into the composition of one of his more famous books. He speaks about his early studies at Salerno, his travels through Dalmatia, Illyria and the Turkish Empire, his competing for the chair of anatomy at Rome, his classes on dissection, his dislike of the German "sciolists" who spend more time on conjecture and hypothesis than on observation, his admiration for Sydenham who fostered practical medicine, and much else. Like many scholars before and since he promised to write books which never appeared (like his book on surgery) or planned books (like his de fibra motrice et morbosa) which did not fulfil his ambi- tions. He thought he would live to be eighty, when he would settle down and com- pose, like Hippocrates, a book of aphorisms which would condense the result of his observations gathered over a period of sixty years, but he died at the age of thirty-eight. The correspondence, as a whole, tells us more about Baglivi's friends than about himself, and for anyone interested in late seventeenth-century medicine this book is a mine of information. This is mainly due, not to the letters themselves, but to the meticulous and impeccable scholarship of the editor, Dorothy Schullian, who has annotated the text in astonishing detail. She even identifies the twenty-four copper engravings of monuments in Rome sent by Baglivi to Manget, the indefatigable compiler of medical encyclopaedias. The bibliography she has consulted in this task runs to no less than eighty pages, the texts themselves ranging in date from 1556 to 1970 and written in seven languages. Such care and industry cannot be too highly praised and scholars everywhere will be grateful for the final product of her assiduous labours. The printers also are to be congratulated on their work, whicb, as far as one can see, is absolutely without blemish. RUTH HODGKINSON, Science and public health, Bletchley, Bucks, The Open University Press, 1973, pp. 64, illus., 80p. The open university offers a course on "Science and the rise of technology since 1800" and this handbook is a guide to part of it. It is an excellent presentation of the problems of public health in the nineteenth century, of the reform measures adopted, typified by the Public Health Movement, and of the applications of science to public health. The text is clearly and accurately compiled, with interjected questions for students to tackle, and there are copious illustrations; the portraits on pages 55 and 58, however, have been confused. It will be useful for any introductory course on the history of public health, and should also be widely popular in providing a rapid survey for anyone studying the nineteenth century, whether from the political, economic, religious, or from any other point of view. At the price it is a bargain. 206 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Notices RICHARD HUNTER and IDA MACALPINE, Psychiatry of the poor. 1851 Colney Hatch Asylum. Friern Hospitall973. A medical andsocial history, London, Dawsons, 1974, pp. 264, illus., £4.50 (£1.50 paperback). When opened in 1851 Colney Hatch in the suburbs of London, known as Friern Hospital since 1973, was Europe's largest and most modem mental asylum. The late Dr. Ida Macalpine and Dr. Richard Hunter, who has been on the hospital's staff for more than twelve years, present a remarkable account of it based on public and hospital records, and personal knowledge. The story is not just that of the everyday activities and problems of a huge institution, but it also reflects general social, medical, and psychiatric progress. The book is by no means the usual parochial account of a hospital divorced from events taking place elsewhere, for, owing to the authors' deep and intimate knowledge of history, their superb skills in presenting historical material, and their lucid literary style they have presented yet another outstanding contribution to the evolution of British psychiatry. All aspects of the asylum's staff, facilities and activities are dealt with; there are also several chapters on the types of mental illness seen, and from them we can learn much about the history of the diseases per se. One's only regret is that Dr. Macalpine did not survive to observe the success that this book will without doubt achieve. It will fascinate all those involved with the handling of mental and neurological disorders, and as a social document of Victorian life it will also attract. It is well illustrated with sixty-nine pictures and tables, and the paperback version at £1.50 could not be a better bargain. K. C. von BOROVICZENY, H. SCHIPPERGES and E. SEIDLER (eds.), Ein- fulhrung in die Geschichte der Haematologie, Stuttgart, G. Thieme, 1974, pp. xi, 210, DM.59. The history of the blood in health and disease from Antiquity to the present day is dealt with by thirteen experts. The first essay explores cultural and symbolic aspects of blood in Antiquity; the second, knowledge of it in the pre-Greek Mediterranean communities, in Ancient Greece and Rome, and in Arabic and Western medieval medicine. Three articles discuss the founding of scientific haematology in the sixteenth, seventeenth, eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries. At the end of the eighteenth century blood chemistry commenced, and the influence of the cell theory of animal life in the 1840s onwards was of great significance and is considered here in detail. Modern haematology originated in the middle of the nineteenth century, with many advances in the techniques of examining blood. Haemostasis developed contem- poraneously, as did quantitative methods of investigation. As knowledge of blood serology advanced so blood transfusion, first employed in the seventeenth century, became a safe and life-saving measure. Each of these topics is discussed and finally there are lists of advances made in the pathology and genetics of the blood. There is an appendix of brief biographical sketches of individuals, a chronological table of events in the history of haematology, an excellent bibliography of forty-seven double- columned pages, and an index. This is the best history of haematology that has so far appeared and can be con- fidently recommended to scholar and student alike. 207 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Notices SAUL NATHANIEL BRODY, The disease ofthe soul. Leprosy in medieval literature, Ithaca and London, Cornell University Press, 1974, pp. 223, £4.75. Leprosy is perhaps the most fascinating disease to study from the historical point of view. During the Middle Ages, when it was rife in the West, it permeated all aspects of society and an accurate account of it can therefore be given only by a medievalist. Dr. Brody, a scholar of medieval literature, looks at the leper in terms of society, religion, and literature and presents an excellent account of his wretched state, invariably associated in the medieval mind with sin and moral defilement; his aim is ". .. to interpret medieval literature involving leprosy and to evaluate it in the light of its cultural context." (p. 12). He precedes these discussions with a chapter on "Medical understandings of leprosy" in which, understandably, he occasionally displays ignorance or nalvety. The linking of leprosy with moral perversion has been remarkably tenacious, and this and other medieval attitudes towards the disease are still with us today to some extent. A work, therefore, that investigates in a thorough and scholarly fashion the distant origins of present-day attitudes to a disease is a useful contribution to modern medicine as well as to the history of medicine. Dr. Brody's documentation is im- peccable, and he provides the original.language as well as translations of his frequent quotations. His book will find a wide audience amongst historians of medicine, medievalists, literary scholars, and practitioners of medicine. PENELOPE B. R. DOOB, Nebuchadnezzar's children. Conventions of madness in Middle English literature, New Haven and London, Yale University Press, 1974, pp. xvii, 247, illus., £6.25. The literary use of madness in Middle English literature is extensive, and this study seeks first to find out what a fourteenth-century Englishman would consider real or literary madness to be. Then the author examines in detail the conventional ways of representing madness, and shows how this knowledge allows us a deeper understanding of certain literary works. She wishes in particular to illustrate a late medieval view of madness and its conventions by drawing upon a representative selection -of sources: religious, literary (drama, poetry), physiological, psychological, etc., from biblical times through the fifteenth century. It seems there were thought to be three purposes of madness, each being a visitation from God and each giving rise to a distinct literary convention: the Mad Sinner, afflicted as a punishment for the damned; the Unholy Wild Man-representing purga- tion of sinners; and the Holy Wild Man to test the virtue of saints. Examples of each from important literary works are cited and considered in detail. The pattern of Nebuchadnezzar's life resembles all three conventions and he can thus be seen as the father of most literary mad-men; thus the book's title. This is an excellent and scholarly work dealing with an aspect of medical history that is, on the whole, little appreciated. Attention should therefore be drawn to it, especially for those concerned with any aspects of psychiatry or with medieval medicine. It provides another example of how a non-medical scholar can make an important addition to the history of medicine. We are in need of many more such persons contributing to the discipline. 208 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Notices PAUL F. CRANEFIELD, The way in and the way out. Franfois Magendie, Charles Bell and the roots of the spinal nerves with a facsimile of Charles Bell's annotated copy of his "Idea of a new anatomy of the brain", Mount Kisco, N.Y., Futura Publishing Co., 1974, pp. xviii, 54, 308 unuimbered 11. (facsimile), $25.00. The importance of the discovery that the spinal roots have different functions was only exceeded by the acrimonious priority claims of the two discoverers, Charles Bell and Franqois Magendie, and the subsequent controversy which has continued to the present day. In a long, drawn-out battle like this, the only way of arriving at, and demonstrating, a careful evaluation is to assemble all the evidence both primary and secondary. Five-sixths of this book consists of such material in facsimile, ranging from Bell (1811) to A. D. Waller (1912).- The reader can thus study the precise con- tribution of each contestant and weigh the numerous opinions that have been expressed. Dr. Cranefield also provides his own analysis of the dispute and, like several authors before him, he is in favour of Magendie rather than Bell. The Bell-Magendie problem has here been given the definitive and ultimate treat- ment, which will be of interest to all those involved with nineteenth-century physiology. But in addition the arrangement adopted by this book is unique, and it could well set a pattern for presenting other important polemics in the history of medicine and science. JOHN S. HALLER, Jr., and ROBIN M. HALLER, The physician and sexuality in Victorian America, Urbana, Chicago and London, University of Illinois Press, 1974, pp. xv, 331, illus., $10.00.- The late Victorian era in America was a period of confusions and paradoxes, and the conflicts were nowhere more apparent than in the complexity of relations between the sexes: the functions, purposes, capacities and behaviour of men and women and their relative roles. Women were moving from their traditional place of subservience in the home -to a state of emancipation and in so doing found the medical practi- tioner their chief moral adviser. The social history of the medical profession is, there- fore, part of this story, as is, of necessity, the feminist movement. The suppressed sexuality of the female was,-in fact, a transitional period in the evolution of middle- class morality. The authors discuss the increasing popularity of neurasthenia, especially in women, and the many cures, often electrical, used to combat it., The role of the female in society, the attitudes to sex and to contraception, the hygiene of the body for women and fitness- for men, venereal disease, and the woman's "silent friends", opium, alcohol and quack remedies, are all dealt with. In each instance the presentation and documentation are excellent. As has been often suspected, much lay hidden behind the Victorians' traditional attitude to sexuality, and this important study reveals in a scholarly and absorbing fashion just what this was. RICHARD COLLIER, The plague of the Spanish Lady. The influenza pandemic of 1918-1919, London, Macmillan, 1974, pp. viii, 376, illus., £3.95. It is curious that one of the world's. worst medical catastrophes, which is said to 209 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Notices have affected more than half the world's population and killed more than 21J million, has been given so little attention by historians. This was the influenza pandemic, October 1918 to January 1919. It first gained widespread publicity in Spain, and thus the title of this book which describes the disaster. The author, at one time journalist and now a prolific writer, has tackled his subject in a unique fashion. Instead of relying mainly on literary sources he has based his record on the memories of 1,708 survivors from all parts of the world, and whose names and countries are recorded here (pp. 335-376). The evidence collected, both oral and written, is woven with great skill into an historical narrative, but the historian will protest the fabrication of direct speech and of descriptions of events unseen, and he will denounce the overdramatized prose. It is also backed by data derived from manuscript sources (pp. 332-334), newspapers and periodicals (pp. 315-319), and printed sources (pp. 320-331). Mr. Collier's book will therefore be praised as a remarkable contribution to historical research methodology, but it will be criticized for the mode of presentation. GEORGE ROSEN, From medical police to social medicine. Essays on the history of health care, New York, Science History Publications, 1974, pp. 327, illus., $8.95 ($5.95 paperback). One of the most prolific contributors to medical history in the last few decades has been the distinguished American historian of medicine and public health educa- tionist, Professor George Rosen of Yale University. One of his special interests has been the study of the evolution of social medicine, and, over a period of thirty years or so, he has published several books and a series of papers on this topic. It is from these writings that the present selections have been chosen, and they deal with sub- jects such as medical police; medical care and social policy in seventeenth-century England; mercantilism and health policy in eighteenth-century French thought; hospitals, medical care, and social policy in the French Revolution; medical aspects of factory conditions in New England; the hospital; the health centre movement; etc. The papers are mostly well known and from readily available sources, and are preceded by a series of graphic illustrations and a brief introduction. In the latter, Dr. Rosen states the purpose of the collection is to provide insight into present-day problems of social medicine and health care. It will thus appeal to a wide audience and should make an excellent students' course book. CLAUDE BERNARD, Lectures on the phenomena of life common to animals and plants, Volume I of translation by Hebbel E. Hoff, Roger Guillemin and Lucienne Guillemin, Springfield, Ill., C. C. Thomas, 1974, pp. xxv, 288, illus., $12.95. Claude Bernard died in 1878 whilst correcting the proofs of these lectures, which are better styled a course of general physiology. In them he summarized all his doctrines, thus providing his most complete and most systematic work; they are a basic statement of the philosophy, the problems, and the future of general physiology. This excellent and accurate translation is preceded by the orations given at Bernard's funeral by his pupils, Vulpian and Paul Bert. It is an important and welcome addition to the gradually growing Bernard literature and can be strongly recommended. 210 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Notices W. DAVID SMITH, Stretching their bodies. The history of physical education, Newton Abbot, David & Charles, 1974, pp. 190, £4.50. Games were not organized officially in the public schools until the beginning of the nineteenth century, and since then controversy as to their worth as a character- as well as a body-builder has continued. Today it appears as a debate on the aims and value of school games. This story is traced here and the author gives an excellent account of the social attitudes which have both aided and deterred the acceptance of physical education's two-fold contribution to the development of the young. Social distinctions have played an important role and only in the last forty years have the opportunities for the working-class child to play recreative games been widespread. Many other factors, including nutrition, the influence of wars, finances, the School Medical Service, therapeutic physical education, medical theories, patriotism, the aims of education, etc., were responsible and are discussed here. The material has been well researched and the documentation is good. The author provides an important contribution to a little-discussed aspect of medical history and it will be of especial interest to those involved with physical medicine, paediatrics, physiotherapy, school medicine, and nutrition. MICHEL GAUQUELIN, Cosmic influences on human behaviour, London, Garnstone Press, 1974, pp. 286, £3.50. The present-day popularity of astrology cannot be denied, the latest development being a computer dating system geared to zodiac data (P.H.S., in The Times, 24 October 1974, p. 18). Perhaps its survival for three millennia argues for some influence of the heavenly bodies on man, but if this is so the mechanism continues to mystify him. Repeated efforts have been made both to justify and to explain, and the latest is this one, translated from French. It is an attempt to examine astrology scientifically, by a man with respectable statistical skills who has laboured at the problem for twenty years or more. The data have already been presented, in thirteen volumes, and the author now provides a popular distillate of them. First, he is able to disprove popular astrology as it appears in the newspapers and magazines. Second, he has produced what the astronomer, J. Allen Hynek, in his Foreword believes is valid evidence. Gauquelin has discovered what he terms "planetary heredity", whereby members ofcertain groups ofexceptional men, doctors, soldiers, sportsmen, actors, etc., have the same planetary configuration at the time of birth. Importantly for his thesis, this circumstance applies only to natural births, and he proves that it cannot be explained by the laws of chance. The author looks at each professional group in turn, and presents his evidence in a clear and attractive style, with numerous explanatory diagrams. The book is, therefore, both interesting and provocative and should attract all those who are fascinated by the possibility of extra-terrestrial influences on man, and those who wish to evaluate the important role of astrology in the history of medicine. Perhaps there is some as yet unidentified force at work. The author does not deal with this, and the title of his book, is therefore, somewhat inaccurate and misleading. 211 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Notices REAY TANNAHILL, Food in history, London, Eyre Methuen, 1973, pp. 448, illus., £4.95. Rather than compiling merely a history of man's food and of his dietary and eating habits, Mrs. Tannahill has elected to show how these factors have influenced the progress of history. Obviously they have had an important influence on population growth and sites of cities as well as on economic, social and political-events. Moreover the situation still exists and will do so until a completely adequate artificial diet can be synthesized. A knowledge, therefore, of past events will help to solve the recurring problems of today and tomorrow which relate to food. The author's objective is to investigate the forces shaping man's diet over a period of 30,000 years as well as to show how more and better food has helped to direct history. This pioneer work, therefore, begins with prehistory and ends with the present day, covering not only supply, -type, adulteration, preservation and cooking of food, but also table manners, markets, agricultural techniques, and related phenomena. The book is richly illustrated throughout, and the documentation is thorough and accurate; an occasional myth is transmitted, such as Galen's centenarian Father (p. 181), but these are trivial. It is an important contribution to the history ofmedicine, for it will be essential reading for those concerned with many aspects of it, in addition to historians of food and diet. It can be warmly recommended. DUDLEY WILSON (ed.), French Renaissance scientific poetry, London, University of London (Athlone Press), 1974, pp. vi, 185, £4.00 (£2.00 paperback). This is an anthology ofverse dealing with several aspects of Renaissance knowledge: "Fish, plants and medicine", "The microcosm-man, his anatomy,, senses and feelings", "The universe-meteorology and astronomy, mathematics and music", etc. Each indicates that Renaissance scientific poetry is compounded of science, philosophy and magic. The last of these is of especial significance, because the scientist of this age was usually a visionary, and rarely a modern experimenter. Thus the last section con- t-ains poems illustrating the poet as magus. There is, in fact, little Renaissance; tech- nological poetry, as would be expected from the fact that the main ingredients of this literary form, philosophy and meditation, outweighed factual data. In his introduction the author defines "scientific poetry" and discusses his choice and the establishment of texts, and the arrangement of the anthology. There are copious notes to .each selection and brief biographical sketches of the poets. Dr. Wilson's excellent book is an important contribution to Renaissance studies, and he brings to the attention of historians of science and medicine an aspect of this period which they may not be aware of, but should be. It is designed as an intro- duction, and-offers opportunities for further reading and study. M. DUREY, The first spasmodic cholera epidemic in York, 1832, (Borthwick Papers, No. 46), York, St. Anthony's Press, 1974, 8vo., pp. iv., 29, 55p. A fully documented account based on local records, newspapers and other primary sources, which also traces the public health, political, religious and economic conse- quences of the outbreak. A useful- addition to the cholera literature, but instead of "spasmodic" in the title there should be "asiatic". 212 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Notices H. P. TAIT, A doctor and two policemen. The history ofEdinburgh Health Department 1862-1974, [Edinburgh], no publisher, 1974, 8.vo., pp. 253,. illus., £2.00. Edinburgh's first medical officer of health was. appointed in 1862, with a staff of two policemen acting as sanitary inspectors. Due to local government reorganization, this post and the health department ceased to exist on 31- March. 1974, -and Dr. H. P. Tait, the Principal Medical Officer, Child Health Service, has, therefore, prepared a commemorative account of the 112 years of their.existence. He gives a brief description of Edinburgh before 1862, and the events leading up to it, providing a vivid picture of the social, sanitary and hygienic conditions, and prevalent infectious diseases. He then considers in turn the provision and evolution of each service: infectious disease control, personal health services, nursing services, hospitals,. community care, environmental services, health education, research, and educational activities. In each instance, Dr. Tait produces. a wealth of detail, but sources are not cited. He has given us a century, of public health development, as seen. in .a capital city, and has thereby. contributed importantly to the -social history of medicine. It is hoped-that other towns will follow his lead. CHESTER R. BURNS. and H. TRISTRAM ENGELHARDT, Jr. (editors), The humanities and. medicine, in, Texas Rep. Biol. Med., 1974, 32: xiii, 368, illus., [no price stated]. The editors have assembled a series of essays to illustrate the medical humanities, a term they apply ". .. to a body of issues in medicine which concern the value and purpose of man..They are [the] core.to medicine." (p. ix). These issues include philosophy, law and religion, and they are distributed through five sections of the book: humanities in medicine; history and medicine; law and medicine; philosophy, ethics and medicine; theology and medicine. Although most articles contain some historical material, those of greatest interest to the medical historian are in the second section. They are a curiously mixed collection: early scientific journals; tissue theory in Comte's biology; anatomy at the University Qf Texas Medical Branch 1891-1932; Pavlov; eighteenth-century French surgery; pathology and Matthew Baillie and Osler; dental medicine and focal infection; the white man in the tropics; nursing ethics; non-U.S.A. medical ethics. That by Audrey Davis on the myth of focal infection is especially noteworthy. The collection should interest a wide audience, because so many vital issues touching medical practice are discussed. A secondary reason for its publication is that it repre- sents .... a symbol of the continuing development of an enduring programme in the humanities at the University of Texas Medical Branch . . .". The staff members are to be congratulated on their achievements so far. GEORG SCHULER, Der Basler Irrenarzt Friedrich Brenner 1809-1874, Aarau, Verlag Sauerlander, 1974 (Ver6ffentlichungen der Schweizerischen Gesellschaftfur Geschichte der Medizin und der Naturwissenschaften, Band 27), 8vo., pp. xiv, 236, S.Fr. 24. A scholarly contribution to the history of Swiss psychiatry, and to the social, religious, and cultural history of Basle in the nineteenth century, based on the life 213- at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Notices of Brenner, who was the first to remove the chains from the insane of Basle. He was also the first to lecture on psychiatry in Deutschschweiz, and his treatment of lunatics, including non-restraint, was, on the whole, progressive. His wide use of drugs is described in detail, and his interest in mentally handicapped children likewise. Politically Brenner was a liberal and he was involved in local politics as well as in the formulation of mental laws. Unlike some biographies, this one deals with the background to the man and his work, as well as with his character and even his handwriting. It is well documented and can be recommended as a reliable and useful contribution to the history of Swiss medicine as well as to the history of psychiatry. MARK DAVID MERLIN, Man and mariyuana. Some aspects of their ancient relationship, Rutherford, Madison and Teaneck, Fairleigh Dickinson University Press, 1972, 8 vo., pp. 120, illus., £3.50. Despite the great interest recently shown in the hemp plant (cannabis sativa) on account of its addictive qualities, and the social consequences thereof, this is the first history of man's use of it. This book deals with its ethnobotanical origins, and with the early use of it by man, which was determined by ecological factors, especially environmental adaptation to climate, soil, topography, animals, man, etc. The author speculates on man's early contact with the drug, and wonders if it was the first domesticated plant, and whether medical, nutritional, religious, or entertainment reasons determined its first use. The wide use of the plant is also discussed. A competent, well-researched and well-documented monograph on a popular present-day topic. BOOKS ALSO RECEIVED (The inclusion of a title in this list does not preclude the possibility of subsequent review.) J. G. CROWTHER, The Cavendish Laboratory 1874-1974, London, Macmillan, 1974, pp. xvi, 464, illus., £25.00. JOAN SOLOMON, The structure of matter. The growth ofman's ideas on the nature ofmatter, Newton Abbot, David & Charles, 1973, pp. 178, illus., £3.95. JOAN SOLOMON, The structure of space. The growth of man's ideas on the nature offorces, fields and waves, Newton Abbot, David & Charles, 1973, pp. 219, illus., £4.50. 214 at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/S0025727300020214 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
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work_uhsdbkmzrfe67g76tzvfs7if5a	----	Aleksandra Kolaković Institute for Balkan Studies Serbian Academy of Sciences and Arts Belgrade The Aspects of French Literature in the Belgrade Journal Delo 1894–1915 Abstract: In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the press in Serbia un- derwent a substantial change and began to reflect cultural trends in society. Delo, defined as a magazine for science, literature and social life, attracted a wide circle of contributors, intellectuals with different outlooks and views. Its editors and contribu- tors, mostly educated and trained in European cultural centres, contributed to the creation of a climate conducive to the modernization of Serbian culture. This paper focuses on the role of French cultural and literary trends launched in the Delo, whose editors and contributors closely followed the leading French journals, translating and publishing the texts they deemed important for Serbia’s cultural development. French literature offered guidelines and models to the realist and naturalist movements, sub- sequently also to modernist and avant-garde tendencies in Serbian literature. The start of the journal in 1894 is associated with the Radical Party, but the Radical ideological influence on the journal was not as strong as might be expected. Choos- ing science, literature and social life as the journal’s areas of interest the founders and editors demonstrated their commitment to modernizing the young Serbian state and society by way of culture. Keywords: Delo journal, Serbia, French culture and literature, Radical Party, Realism, Modernism, avant-garde, Serbian culture, modernization of Serbia At the turn of the nineteenth and twentieth centuries, France was an indisputable and worldwide synonym for culture, as most readily seen from the example of Serbian society, engaged in building a modern state at the time. An abundance of scholarly works have been devoted to relations between France and Serbia in the nineteenth and twentieth centuries and to French influences on Serbian society.1 And yet, some pieces of the mosaic 1 Franco-Serbian relations have been an unavoidable subject of numerous monographs, papers and edited volumes, to mention but Lj. Aleksić-Pejković, Odnosi Srbije sa Fran- cuskom i Engleskom: 1903–1914 [Serbia’s Relations with France and England 1903– 1914] (Belgrade 1965); M. Vojvodić, Srbija u medjunarodnim odnosima krajem XIX i početkom XX veka [Serbia in International Relations in the Late 19th and Early 20th Centuries] (Belgrade 1988); Č. Popov, Francuska i Srbija: 1871–1878 [France and Ser- bia: 1871–1878] (Belgrade 1974); D. T. Bataković, “Evropski poredak i srpsko pitanje: francuska perspektiva” [European order and the Serbian issue: the French perspective], in Evropa i Srbi (Belgrade 1996); M. Pavlović, U dvostrukom ogledalu: francusko-srp- ske kulturne i knjževne veze [In a Double Mirror: Franco-Serbian Cultural and Lit- erary Ties] (Belgrade 1996); D. T. Bataković, “Francuski uticaji u Srbiji 1835–1914. DOI:10.2298/BALC0940145K Original scholarly work Balcanica XL148 are still missing. This paper is an attempt to add a small piece to the mosaic of historical knowledge about relations between the two states, two cultures and two nations. Literature has been chosen as a sphere where influences on the culture of an environment or a society as a rule leave a more lasting mark, and the aspects of French literature are looked at from the perspec- tive of the journal Delo, the personages and oeuvres of its contributors and editors, its editorial policy and literary pieces published in it. Delo, list za nauku, knjževnost i društveni život (Delo, Magazine for Science, Literature and Social Life) was launched at the beginning of 1894 by a group of people close to the Radical Party,2 the leading protagonist of political and social life in Serbia at the time. There were two interruptions to its publication: from 1899 to 1902, and from 1914 to 1915.3 During the second publication run, between 1902 and 1915, the Delo sought to maintain the balance against the famed Srpski književni glasnik (The Ser- Četiri generacije parizlija” [French influences in Serbia 1835–1914. Four Generations of Parisians], Zbornik Matice srpske za istoriju 56 (1997), 73–95; Medjunarodni naučni skup srpsko-francuski odnosi 1904-2004 [Serbo-French Relations 1904–2004] (Belgrade 2004); Lj. Glumac-Tomović, Francuski klasičari kod nas [French Classicists in Serbia] (Belgrade 2005) 2 Narodna radikalna stranka (National Radical Party) was founded on 21 January 1881 when its political programme was published in the party newspaper Samouprava (Self- Government). Its motto: “Intra-national welfare and freedom, external state independ- ence and liberation, and unification of other parts of the Serbian nation” summed up the most important objectives of the programme. Constitutional reform; strengthening of the legislative power of the Assembly; simplified administration, the abolition of counties and the introduction of local self-government in districts and municipalities; progressive taxation; a people’s army; general, compulsory and free education; support to the as yet unliberated Serbs; laws on the freedom of the press, public assembly and association, personal and property safety, those were the goals aspired for by the Radi- cals led by Nikola Pašić, one of the most important political figures in the history of modern Serbia. In the 1890s, the Radicals began to split over the issue of fight against the Obrenović dynasty, which led to a final rift in 1901. An accord between the Radicals and the Progressivists, brokered by King Alexander Obrenović, and the April Constitu- tion of 1901 marked the final split between the older and younger wings. The younger wing formed the Independent Radical Party, announcing a return to the original tenets of Radicalism in its programme published in the newly-founded party newspaper Odjek (Echo) in 1902. In the leadership of the Independents were Ljuba Živković, Ljuba Stojanović and Ljuba Davidović. Besides their political careers, most Radical leaders were well-known and recognized in their respective professions and, as such, had an impact not only on political, but also on social, economic and cultural developments in Serbia. 3 The first interruption was caused by the assassination of King Milan on St John’s Day in 1899. The second break was shorter and resulted from the state of war and the tem- porary relocation of the editorial office from Belgrade to Niš. A. Kolaković, French Literature in the Journal Delo 149 bian Literary Herald).4 It had no specific programme, which resulted in its tolerant attitude towards and open cooperation with the exponents of different political beliefs. With such an attitude, the group rallied around the Delo encouraged the acceptance of pluralistic tenets of modern culture.5 The Delo frequently changed editors and contributors, which led to changes in its conception and contents.6 The position of editor-in-chief was mainly held by Radical leaders and Belgrade’s Great School (since 1905 University) professors, namely the political and cultural elite of Serbia. The magazine attracted a wide circle of contributors: scholars, poets, writers, critics, theo- reticians and politicians — intellectuals with different outlooks and views.7 Even if their collaboration with the Delo throughout the twenty years of its publication was not continuous, these notable figures of Serbian culture and history left an indelible mark in the journal.8 They were the driving force 4 Srpski književni glasnik was launched in 1901 and its first series ran until 1914. A group of young intellectuals, mostly educated in France, rallied around the journal with the aim of modernizing Serbian culture based on a clearly defined literary programme. Among the editors and contributors were distinguished figures of Serbian science and culture, most of whom had been educated abroad: the Popović brothers (Bogdan and Pavle), Jovan Skerlić, Jaša Prodanović, Slobodan Jovanović, Milan Grol etc. 5 Cf. Istorija srpskog naroda, vol. VI-2 [The History of the Serbian Nation] (Belgrade 2000), 405. 6 In the period between 1894 and 1915, 74 volumes of the Delo journal were printed. Over the same period, the Delo had as many as seven editors. 7 The founders, editors and contributors to the magazine were intellectuals with differ- ent outlooks and views such as: Ilija Vukićević, Milovan Milovanović, Bogdan Popović, Stojan Protić, Dragoljub Pavlović, Mihailo Vujić, Rista Odavić, Jovan Skerlić, Sima Matavulj, Janko Veselinović, Svetolik Ranković, Branislav Nušić, Radoje Domanović, Isidora Sekulić, Sima Pandurović, Vladislav Petković Dis and others. 8 The Delo’s editors and contributors were such notable figures of Serbian history as Stojan Protić (1857–1923) and Mihailo Vujić (1853–1913). Protić was a member and ideologist of the Radical Party. He graduated from the Faculty of Philosophy (De- partment of History and Philology) in Belgrade. Protić was a contributor to political magazines, a contributor and editor of the newspaper Samouprava from 1882, and the founder of the newspaper Odjek (Echo) in 1884. He was elected member of Parliament in 1887, Secretary of the Great Constituent Committee in 1888, Head Of Department in the Ministry of Internal Affairs from 1889, provisional Mayor of Belgrade in 1993, Director of the National Library in 1900, Minister of Internal Affairs (1903–1905, 1906–1907, 1912–1914) and Minister of Internal Affairs Representative (1910–1911), Minister of Finance (1909–1912, 1917–1918). He served as Prime Minister in the first Government of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes between 1918 and 1919, and again in 1920. Protić published a large number of works in the field of history and politics, to mention but Albanski problem i Srbija i Austro-Ugarska, Srbi i Bugari u Bal- kanskom ratu, Tajna konvencija između Srbije i Austro-Ugarske. Mihailo Vujić graduated from the Faculty of Philosophy in Belgrade and pursued economic studies in Germany. Balcanica XL150 behind new cultural and intellectual trends in the Serbian environment. The most important for the topic of this paper are cultural and literary currents and the diffusion of French influence launched on the pages of the Delo. One of the requirements in an analysis of the aspects of French lit- erature in the Delo is to establish the extent of French literary presence in a journal dominated by Radicals, who are known to have been dedicated Russophiles.9 On the whole, the Delo, with its liberal attitude towards dif- ferent literary trends and styles, contributed to the development of new and diversified trends in Serbian literature and culture.10 It should be borne in mind that personal preferences and literary judgements of the journal’s editors and contributors had a bearing on the selection of literary works published. Contributors to the journal closely followed French literature and acquainted the Serbian readership with current cultural developments almost concurrently with those in any other major European city. Leafing through the journal, one can notice that French topics and works occu- pied a more prominent place when its editors or close collaborators were French-educated, such as Ilija Vukićević, Bogdan Popović and Milovan Milovanović.11 In addition, it should be stressed that political circumstances, Vujić was professor at the Great School in Belgrade (1879–1887) and member of the Royal Serbian Academy. As a member of the Radical Party, he served as Minister of Finance (1887, 1888, 1889–1891, 1893, 1893–1894, 1896–1897), Minister of Foreign Affairs (1901) and Prime Minister of the Kingdom of Serbia (1901). Vujić published a large number of works in the field of economics and politics. 9 The Delo provides sufficient material for exploring the ties between political radicalism and literary realism. It testifies to the fact that the bond between literature and politics in the sphere of periodicals, so typical of the nineteenth century, was not completely severed even in the early twentieth century, cf. D. Mladenović, “Delo na raskršću vekova i epoha” [The Delo at the crossroads of centuries and epochs], Bibliotekar 1–3 (Belgrade 1986), 64. 10 Z. Petković, “Engleske teme u Srpskom književnom glasniku i Delu do 1914” [Eng- lish topics in the Srpski književni glasnik and the Delo until 1914], in Tradicionalno i moderno u srpskim časopisima 1894-1914 (Novi Sad–Belgrade 1992), 352. 11 Milovan Milovanović (1863–1912) was the first Serb to receive a doctoral degree in law in Paris. He graduated from Paris Law School in 1884 and received his doctoral degree from the same university in 1888 with the thesis Les Traités de garantie au XIXe siècle (Paris 1888). At the age of twenty-five, he was elected professor at Belgrade Uni- versity and drafted Serbia’s liberal Constitution of 1888. He served as Undersecretary for Foreign Affairs (1890) and Minister of Justice (1896), but was dismissed in 1897. In 1899 as a result of the government’s repression against Radical Party members, he was sentenced in absentia to two years in prison. He was reinstated in 1900 and, as Minister of Economy, took part in drafting the new Constitution in 1901. Milovanović represented Serbia at the second Hague Conference in 1907. He steered Serbia’s foreign policy (Foreign Minister 1908–1912) through the crisis following the annexation of A. Kolaković, French Literature in the Journal Delo 151 i.e. international relations, Franco-Serbian in particular, had implications for the intensity of cultural exchange. Therefore, there are two aspects to the presence of French literature in the Delo. One is direct and involves all French works translated and published in the journal. The other is indirect and comprises all Serbian literary authors who published their pieces in the Delo and whose literary outlooks developed and crystallized on the model of French writers. The first translation of a French author appeared in the Delo in 1895.12 The Delo editors, members of Serbian intellectual circles, selected Lemaître, a contributor to two French journals they were well familiar with, as the first French writer to be published in their journal. The editorial staff of the Delo regularly kept track of the Revue bleue, Journal des debats and Revue des deux mondes, and occasionally published translations of some articles, thus accomplishing the mission of broadening cultural horizons in Serbia. The Delo also closely followed the emergence of new journals, French in particular, and notified the readers accordingly.13 Towards the end of that year (1895), the Delo began to publish Guy de Maupassant, who was soon to become the most translated French writer in the journal,14 and whose style and subject matter made a powerful impression on Serbian realists. In 1897, the Delo published his Le gueux translated by Jovan Skerlić, the jour- Bosnia-Herzegovina by Austria-Hungary in 1908, and succeeded in raising the ques- tion of Serbian national unification without provoking a war with Austria-Hungary. Despite his preference for close relations with Russia, he initiated negotiations that led to a trade agreement with Austria-Hungary (1910). In July 1911 he was appointed Prime Minister, while retaining the foreign affairs portfolio. The fact that he negotiated the first Serbo-Bulgarian alliance makes him one of the chief founders of the Balkan Alliance of 1912, even though he died before a more substantial alliance was concluded. Milovanović’s major works include: Naša ustavna reforma [Our Constitutional Reform] (Belgrade 1888); Srbi i Hrvati [Serbs and Croats] (Belgrade 1895); Srbi i Bugari [Serbs and Bulgarians] (Belgrade 1898); Jedan ili dva doma [One or Two Chambers] (Belgrade 1901). See his biography by D. Djordjević, Milovan Milovanović (Belgrade: Prosevta, 1962). 12 Jules Lemaître’s story L’ainée in Delo, Vol. 7 (1895). 13 In 1902, the editorial board recommended the freshly started French literary journal Minerve, which shows that they kept abreast of contemporary literary developments and conveyed such information to the Serbian public. 14 Maupassant’s Il and Le suicide appeared in the Delo, Vol. 8 (1895), and his book Mademoiselle Fifi was translated and released the following year in Vol. 10 (1896). The journal continued to publish and translate Maupassant even during the second publica- tion run. His short story Fort comme la mort was published in 1906 (Delo, Vol. 38) and Le tomb six years later (Delo, Vol. 62 (1912). See M. Savković, Bibliographie des réalistes français dans la littérature serbocroate (Paris 1935) and L’Influence du réalisme français dans le roman serbocroate (Paris 1935), 211–221. Balcanica XL152 nal’s young French-educated contributor and future great Serbian literary critic.15 Although quite brief, Skerlić’s collaboration with the Delo included several important texts, notably “Poslednji roman Dodeov. O romanu Kućni hranitelj Alfonsa Dodea” (Daudet’s last novel. On the novel Soutien de fa- mille by Alphons Daudet) and “Pogled na današnju francusku književnost” (An overview of present-day French literature).16 Both texts point to the presence, familiarity with and understanding of French literature in Serbian society.17 The editors and contributors of the Delo were interested in other French authors as well.18 They describe Alphonse Daudet as a widely-read author, and suggest that the creativity of this realist and representative of the novel of manners and observations has influenced Serbian writers.19 Later on, an extensive review of Daudet’s Nabob published in the journal empha- 15 Jovan Skerlić (1877–1914), a Serbian literary historian and critic. Having graduated in French language and literature and literary theory from Belgrade’s Great School in 1899, he continued his studies abroad: in 1899–1901, he studied in Lausanne and Paris, where he received his doctoral degree. Skerlić’s doctoral thesis “French Public Opinion in Political and Social Poetry between 1830 and 1848” garnered vast interest among the academic community. He started his teaching career in a Belgrade grammar school, but was soon appointed assistant professor of French language and literature and literary theory at the Great School in Belgrade. During the 1903/4 academic year, he completed advanced training in Munich and Paris and on return, devoted himself to teaching at the newly-established University of Belgrade (1905). Jovan Skerlić can be described as the spiritual leader of the educated Socialist youth given his collaboration with the journals Zanatlijski Glasnik (Artisan Herald) and Socijaldemokratija (Social Democracy). After joining the Independent Radicals, Skerlić was editor of the left- faction newspaper Dnevni List (Daily Newspaper). In 1912, he was elected MP for Kragujevac County. Apart from his notable work in the field of literary criticism and literary history, he also authored two short stories dealing with Belgrade life, and did translations of V. Hugo. Skerlić contributed to the Delo during its first publication run. Later on he was a long-standing contributor and editor of the Srpski književni glasnik (with Pavle Popović in 1905–1907 and thereafter on his own). Skerlić’s major works include: Francuski romantičari i srpska narodna poezija [French Romanticists and Ser- bian Folk Poetry]; Istorijski pregled srpske štampe [A Historical Overview of the Serbian Press] and Istorija nove srpske književnosti [The History of New Serbian Literature]. As a critic, Skerlić was a French school follower giving precedence to intrinsic value over perfection of form and expression. 16 Delo, Vol. 18 (1898) and Vol. 23 (1902). 17 See M. Begić, Jovan Skerlić et la critique littéraire en Serbie (Paris: Institut d’Etudes slaves, 1963) and by the same author, Jovan Skerlić, čovek i delo (Belgrade: Prosveta, 1966). 18 Savković, L’Influence du réalisme français. 19 Delo, Vol. 17 (1898), 536. A. Kolaković, French Literature in the Journal Delo 153 sizes that Serbian writers indeed have models to follow.20 At the beginning of the twentieth century, the Delo publishes the text “Viktor Igo i renesans francuski” (Victor Hugo and the French Renaissance) to commemorate the hundredth anniversary of Hugo’s birth. It seems that the Serbian elite, if we are to judge by its representatives contributing to the Delo, considered Hugo as being “a man who embodies the ideal of his century and the need for social justice and political freedom, [and] is, at the same time, a popular rep- resentative and a great poet”.21 Hugo believed in the mission of writers and the role of the intellectual elite among the people, and it is precisely these and similar views that the young Serbian intelligentsia identified with.22 In 1902, the contributors to the Delo, mainly Radicals or politically close to the Radicals, oppressed by the authoritarian Obrenović regime, profoundly shared Hugo’s belief that scientists, artists, philosophers and poets, rather than generals and rulers, were the great and brave of humankind. The Ser- bian Radicals were aware that during Hugo’s exile an entire political gen- eration led by Gambetta and Ferry imbibed Les peines “as the strong and bitter wine of their regained liberty”.23 No wonder then that Hugo was seen as “the greatest” representative of the French spirit.24 French literature lost its supremacy in the journal in 1908, which may be attributed to the Francophiles’ weakening influence, particularly in view of the fact that the editor of the journal became German-educated Dragoljub Pavlović.25 It should be borne in mind, however, that the An- 20 Delo, Vol. 38 (1906), 268–269. 21 Delo, Vol. 23 (1902), 76. 22 Savković, L’Influence du réalisme frqnçais, 23. 23 Ibid., 78. 24 Ibid., 80. 25 Dragoljub Draža Pavlović (1866–1920) graduated from the History and Philology Department of the Great School in Belgrade in 1888. In Vienna in 1891/2, he studied the secondary education system. He became a teacher at the Teacher Training School in Belgrade in 1893, but left for Germany later that year to pursue his studies, first in Freiburg (Baden) and then in Tübingen, where in 1897 he defended his doctoral thesis “O borbi za nacionalitet ugarskih Srba 1848–1849” [On the Hungarian Serbs’ Strug- gle for National Rights 1848–1849]. He was appointed associate professor of modern history at the Faculty of Philosophy of the Great School in 1897, and full professor in 1901. With the growth of the Great School into Belgrade University in 1905, he was appointed one of the initial eight full professors and Chair of General History. He was elected a member of the Royal Serbian Academy (corresponding in 1905, full in 1920). He pursued his political career under the wing of the Radical Party acting as the Main Committee Secretary, a MP, Vice-chairman of the Independent Radicals Club (1916), and first President of the National Assembly of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats and Slovenes (1919). Pavlović was one of the first professors of general history and he spe- Balcanica XL154 nexation Crisis was at its peak and that literary topics in the journal were naturally pushed into the background.26 In the course of the following year, 1909, Denis Diderot’s essay Le neveu de Rameau was published in a serial form. Upon the appearance of the first part, Grgur Branković, probably the most responsible for its publication, wrote that its author’s realism “often grows into austere naturalism fraught with lechery and debauchery, into the type of naturalism that was to be championed by Zola and Guy de Maupas- sant in the latter part of the following century”.27 It was the work of Diderot, Zola and Maupassant that was to exert a crucial influence on Serbian real- ists and naturalists, some of whom published their works in the Delo. Ad- dressing French themes, a contributor to the Delo, Grgur Berić, published his study “Francuski duh u književnosti” (The French spirit in literature).28 Seeking to define what the French spirit is and what its features are, Berić concludes that such spirits “will always go beyond the narrow confines of their time and nationality, while remaining the best all-time representatives of their race and their time. They have inspired men to higher ideals and purposes, and that is what makes them great.”29 These words show perhaps most vividly how enthralled the people rallied around the Delo were by the high achievements of French culture. In 1912, the Delo began to publish a translation of Paul Bourget’s novel Les mensonges.30 During that period, the Delo’s editor and contributor was a Francophile, Rista Odavić, initiator of trends in Serbian literary and theatrical life.31 In 1913, apart from Bourget, the journal also published the novel Thais by Anatole France.32 The Delo cialized in the history of Europe and the history of South-Slavic lands and the Serbian nation under foreign rule. The most important works of this erudite scholar include: Ujedinjenje Nemačke [German Unification]; Ličnost u istoriji [Personality in History], Delo (1897); Istorizam i racionalizam [Historicism and Rationalism], Delo (1898); Kul- tura i ratovi [Culture and Wars], Letopis Matice srpske (1901) and Leopold Ranke. Istori- ografska skica [Leopold von Ranke: A Historiographic Sketch], Delo (1895). 26 In the course of 1908 the Delo published René Pinon’s La crise balkanique, and Con- grès de Berlin by Gabriel Hanotaux, former French Foreign Minister and professor at Paris University. Apart from that, most of the journal’s coverage was devoted to Political Overview: Delo, Vols. 47 and 48 (1908). 27 Delo, Vol. 50 (1909), 283. 28 Delo, Vol. 53 (1909). 29 Ibid., 41. 30 Delo, Vol. 62 (1912). 31 Rista Odavić (1870–1932), professor, translator, playwright for the National Theatre in Belgrade and Director of State Archives; he was also founder and editor of the Delo and Nova Iskra (New Spark). 32 Delo, Vol. 66 (1913). A. Kolaković, French Literature in the Journal Delo 155 paid great attention to literary criticism and the appearance of a translation of Karl Becker’s On the Evolution of Contemporary French Criticism made a great contribution to literature in Serbia. Becker largely addresses the clash between methodic criticism and talent criticism, the oeuvre of Hippolyte Taine and the crisis of French criticism after his death, topics which elicited a great deal of interest from Serbian critics, too.33 Paul Bourget’s study on Charles Baudelaire, Jacques Cezanne’s “Cimetière” and Alfred de Musset’s “Nuits de mai” published by the Delo in 1914 seemed harbingers of the difficult times lying ahead. No wonder then that most of the journal in the wartime period was devoted to war poetry, primarily that of the Allied countries i.e. French. The first issue of the first volume of the Delo brought a study on Beaumarchais by the young Bogdan Popović (1863–1944),34 which was instrumental in ushering Serbian essayist literature into a new era and in developing the so-called Belgrade style.35 With the publication of this study, the Delo certainly sought to symbolically reinforce the positions of the French-educated Popović and his follower Jovan Skerlić, himself a contributor to the Delo during the first publication period. The publica- tion of Bogdan Popović’s texts and his influence on the editorial policy of the journal were particularly intensive in the course of the initial two years. In his “Introductory Lecture on the History of World Literature” (Uvodno predavanje iz istorije svetske književnosti), besides a brief historical overview of Serbian philology, Popović laid down the guidelines for the development of Serbian literature and literary scholarship.36 He argued that “one of the main virtues of fine literature is in developing this universal and multifac- eted, moral and aesthetic sympathy in human souls”; moreover, literature 33 Delo, Vol. 67 (1913). 34 “Behind the hitherto unimaginable diversity and pliancy of phrase, original turns, stylistic refinement and, at times, evident endeavour to establish direct communication with the reader, lay the writer’s scrupulous work and, even more, his fine French educa- tion. In his programmatic writings, Popović suggested the emulation of more advanced models as critically important: ’Foreign literature is what Serbian literature needs most’,” Istorija srpskog naroda VI-2, 263. 35 “The flourishing period of the Belgrade style was also the period of the most power- ful French influence on the Serbian literary language. An enthusiasm for French cul- ture and French democracy, French books, strong political ties, and many young people educated in France or in the French-speaking part of Switzerland, contributed to the adoption of the ideal of crystal clarity and seemingly casual elegance characteristic of the best-written products of the French spirit, and to the import of a multitude of French words into the Serbian language”, Istorija srpskog naroda VI-2, 265. See also M. Savković, La Littérature yougoslave moderne (Belgrade 1936), 179. 36 Delo, Vol. 2 (1894), 103. Balcanica XL156 may also contribute to the development and diffusion of ideas, so that “not only its ideas and contents, but also its wittiness, make it increasingly more suitable for being used as a powerful educational means [...] such an influ- ence of literature is observable in most historical and social movements in recent times”.37 Relying on the insights gained during his schooling abroad, Popović encouraged the emergence of a new trend in Serbian literary criti- cism. Even this study by Bogdan Popović makes it clear that through his work the Serbian science of literature and language was to reach European standards.38 Important for Popović’s work in the Delo is his text “Rado- van Košutić: Causes of the revival of literary criticism. A study in French literature review” (Radovan Košutić: Uzroci preporođaju književne kritike. Studija iz francuske književnosti).39 Popović harshly criticizes Košutić as a clown and his work as having “no merit whatsoever”.40 The article brilliantly demonstrates Popović’s knowledge of French literature, taking a closer look at Hippolyte Taine, Descartes, Racine and Molière, authors widely read and discussed by the young Serbian elite. On the occasion of the death of Al- exandre Dumas fils, Bogdan Popović wrote an obituary describing Dumas as “the greatest French, and probably European, dramatist of the century“, which is indicative of the repute Dumas enjoyed in Serbia.41 Popović partic- ularly dwelled on Dumas’ La Dame aux camélias and La question aux femmes. It cannot be known with certainty whether the Delo wrote about Dumas and reviewed Dumas’ texts and plays at the insistence of Bogdan Popović or such a policy was jointly adopted by the editorial board. It is certain, howev- er, that the editors and contributors, especially prior to the first interruption to its publication, were all educated under the influence of French models. This primarily goes for Svetislav Simić, the Delo’s conceptual originator, Ilija Vukićević, its first editor, and the diplomat Milovan Milovanović, one of its subsequent editors. Bogdan Popović’s work, especially that connected with the Srpski književni glasnik and his Anthology of modern Serbian lyric poetry published in 1911, were an unquestionable and great contribution to 37 Bogdan Popović particularly highlights the example of France, or more precisely, the magnitude of Rousseau’s contribution to the transformation of Europe or “how helpful literature was to the French Revolution”, ibid., 109–110. 38 “As early as the end of the nineteenth century, new winds began to blow in Serbian literary criticism, bringing the spirit of analytical positivism, faith in the power of artis- tic individualism and high standard of universality of aesthetic impact”, Istorija srpskog naroda VI-2, 333–334. 39 Savković, Bibliographie des réalistes français, 114. 40 Delo, Vol. 5 (1895), 134. 41 Delo, Vol. 8 (1986), 329. A. Kolaković, French Literature in the Journal Delo 157 Serbian literature and literary criticism.42 Therefore, the Delo may be said to have had in its ranks a critic whose intellectual outlook conformed to the standards of modern European civilization, and who was clearly and pro- foundly engrossed in French cultural trends. The publication of Popović’s “Beaumarchais” marked a turning-point, paving the way for the restoration of Serbian literary language and literary style on the model of the vivid, el- egant, logical and flexible French phrase, thus revealing the true possibilities and tendencies of Serbian expression.43 The first editor of the Delo, also French-educated Ilija Vukićević (1866–1899), explicitly advised the reading public to “read Hugo”.44 Vukićević edited only the first volume of the journal, after which he left for Geneva to continue his studies. The obituary of Ilija Vukićević published in the Delo in 1899 makes reference to the former editor’s keen interest in French language and literature: “the latest literary trends in France en- couraged him to try his hand at the new forms of poetic short stories. That is how a whole series came into being of fairy tales which had much in common with our folk tales, while being inspired by modern French po- etry.”45 Vukićević created a genre that was to become a distinguishing mark of modern twentieth-century prose: the literary fairy tale.46 The realist ap- proach to the world in general and the realist style, manifest in the work of Vukićević and other Serbian realists, resulted from the adoption of new European models in Serbian literature. Cervantes, Lermontov, Gogol, Tur- genev, Goncharov, Tolstoy were translated into Serbian as early as the 1850s and 1860s. In the 1860s, besides Russian writers, French authors such as Hugo, George Sand, Mérimée, Dumas fils, Zola, Maupassant and Daudet also began to be translated,47 finding their way to the Serbian readership, expanding their literary horizons and acquainting them with the contem- 42 Popović’s “Anthology was an announcement and application of theoretical positivist and empirical principles of aesthetic criticism on the one hand, and setting of new aes- thetic standards of poetic beauty, on the other. It was accepted as the highest achieve- ment of sober taste”, Istorija srpskog naroda VI-2, 334. 43 Ibid., 480. 44 Delo, Vol. 1 (1894), 56. 45 Delo, Vol. 21 (1899), VII. 46 Vukićević’s short story Priča o selu Vrečima i Simi Srupici published in the Delo (Vols. 5–7) in 1895 occupied a prominent place in the new genre. 47 “Les traduction de Victor Hugo, de Daudet, de Zola et de Maupassant, celles de Gogolj, de Tourguéniev, pour ne citer que ceux-là, fournissent à la littérature yougoslave de grandes modèles”, Savković, La Littérature yougoslave moderne, 100. Balcanica XL158 porary styles of realism and naturalism.48 Vukićević, Svetolik Ranković and Janko Veselinović introduced elements of folklore, ethnography, the com- mon people’s worldview and folk storytelling.49 It should be noted, however, that Veselinović’s literary models were Russian rather than French.50 The work of Vukićević, Matavulj and Ranković played a significant role in Ser- bian prose attaining the heights of the finest realist literature.51 In terms of style, their models were Turgenev’s descriptions of nature, Tolstoy’s psycho- logical analysis, Maupassant’s interior descriptions, and Daudet’s poeticiza- tion and imagination. With the appearance of a rival magazine, Srpski književni glasnik, in 1901, the Delo was left without some major figures of the domestic literary scene, but it nevertheless published Radoje Domanović, Bora Stanković, Petar Kočić, Veljko Petrović and Isidora Sekulić. The literary production of the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries witnessed some major changes, primarily as a result of changed literary models. Gogol and his con- temporaries gave way to Turgenev, Tolstoy, Dostoyevsky and Chekhov, the dominance of Russian and German literature dwindled before the models found in French (Zola, Maupassant and Daudet), English (Dickens) and Scandinavian literatures (Ibsen). The Delo kept abreast of those trends. Re- alist poetry gave way to that of parnassists, impressionists and symbolists. Borisav Stanković, Petar Kočić and Milutin Uskoković became the cham- pions of twentieth-century modern Serbian literature. Jovan Skerlić, edi- tor of the Glasnik, sought to curb the pessimistic strain of modernism in Serbian literature, even to reduce it to the level of subculture. During 1909 and 1910, the Delo and Glasnik published the opposing literary opinions and views of the two editorial boards. Sima Pandurović, Vladislav Petković Dis and Isidora Sekulić, heralds of the new strain, were met with Skerlić’s adverse criticism, which was the reason that some of their works were pub- 48 The works of Janko Veselinović, Simo Matavulj, Svetolik Ranković, Svetozar Ćorović, Branislav Nušić, Radoje Domanović, and those of Bora Stanković, Veljko Petrović, Sima Pandurović, Isidora Sekulić, Vladislav Petković Dis and other distinguished Ser- bian authors, were printed during the first and second publication periods of the Delo respectively. See Istorija srpskog naroda VI-2, 301, and Delo, Vols. 1–74 (Belgrade and Niš, 1894–1899, 1902–1915). 49 Svetolik Ranković caused “the Serbian prose of the late nineteenth century to move towards disintegration of realism and to display all elements of fin-de-siècle literature.” In 1895, the Delo published “Propast, scena iz školskog života” [Failure: a school scene], Istorija srpskog naroda VI-2, 302. 50 Ibid., 295–297. In 1896, the Delo published Veselinović’s novel Hayduk Stanko, a Rousseauean idealistic portrayal of the Serbian countryside and rural life. 51 With “intensified psychological motivation, refined novelistic composition, and artis- tic expression in terms of style”, Istorija srpskog naroda VI-2, 302. A. Kolaković, French Literature in the Journal Delo 159 lished by the Delo.52 In that way, the Delo, that is its editors and contributors, introduced European trends in prose and poetry to Serbian culture. Of all the abovementioned Serbian authors who published their works in the Delo, the strongest influence of French models is observable in Simo Matavulj (1852–1908).53 We learn from his Notes that he read the Temps and Revue de deux mondes,54 but his two-month stay in Paris in the autumn of 1882 was most important for deepening his ties with French literature. According to his Notes, his roaming through Paris evoked literary associations with famous French authors such as Hugo and Zola,55 he was introduced to Anatole France by his long-standing acquaintance Étiene Lamy,56 and as he himself put it: “My visit to Paris, apart from other benefits that I had, influenced my literary taste and style more than any other expe- rience I have had over the years.”57 Matavulj visited France two more times: 52 In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, Sima Pandurović published the following literary pieces: “S večeri” [In the evening] and “Biserne oči” [Pearly eyes], while Božidar Purić published “Prolećne varijacije” [Spring Variations], Delo, Vol. 56 (1910); the Delo published the works of Vojislav Ilić, whose poetry initially emulated post-romantic, parnassist tendencies and methods, and turning to the world of symbolist forebodings, visions and restlessness in the early 1890s. Vojislav Ilić endowed Serbian lyric poetry with European form or, more precisely, introduced it to the modern European trends and con- tributed to its artistic perfection. This course set by Ilić’s poetry was maintained by Serbian symbolists: Jovan Dučić, Milan Rakić, Vladislav Petrović Dis and Sima Pandurović. The Delo also published “Nirvana” by Vladislav Petković Dis. In this period, the Delo published Milutin Bojić’s poems “Kroz vekove” [Through Centurie], “Avet” [Spectre] and “Majka” [Mother], early works of the author of the famous “Plava grobnica” [Blue Tomb] and initiator of modern dramatic poetry in the early twentieth century. Radoje Domanović excelled in the realm of allegoric and satirical story. See Istorija srpskog naroda VI-2, 302. 53 As a young teacher in the village of Islam, in Ravni Kotari, Matavulj became ac- quainted with the work of many French writers, and was taught French by Count Ilija Janković, a “Voltairean and Russophile”. It was then that Matavulj began to read Rous- seau, Voltaire, Fénelon, Bossuet, Chateaubriand, Lamartine, Hugo, George Sand, Du- mas, and even Flaubert. The Delo, which published a number of Maupassant’s works, pointed to the French writer’s influence on Matavulj on more than one occasion dur- ing the twentieth century. The mid 1890s were the most prolific period of Matavulj’s cooperation with the journal: short stories “Snaga bez očiju” [Eyeless strength], Vol. 1 (1894); “Frontaševa ljubav” [Soldier’s Love], Vol. 7 (1895); “Djukan Skakavac”, Vol. 9 (1896). For more, see G. Eror, Simo Matavulj i francuska književnost [Simo Matavulj and French Literature] (Belgrade 1974). 54 Eror, Simo Matavulj, 7. 55 S. Matavulj, Beleške jednog pisca [A Writer’s Notes], vol. 4 of Collected Works (Belgrade 1953–1956), 162. 56 “That evening Matavulj, if he is to be believed, was a great success, making Anatole France roar with laughter”, G. Eror, Simo Matavulj, 8. 57 Matavulj, Beleške jednog pisca, 166. Balcanica XL160 Paris in 1900, at the time of the Universal Exhibition, and Nice in 1903, when he wrote an article for Le Figaro. In his articles and essays, he men- tions or assesses a number of French authors, which speaks both of his eru- dition and of these authors’ literary influence.58 As expected from a realist, Matavulj closely followed the work of his contemporaries, primarily French realist novelists and story writers.59 It cannot be said with certainty whether and to what extent Matavulj, being a realist, encouraged the publication of Maupassant in the Delo, but he was certainly pleased to see his own works published in a journal that brought Maupassant. Matavulj learned story- telling techniques from the best European models, primarily Maupassant, introducing the reader into the heart of the story with brief and powerful strokes, and depicting simple but memorable events, often with anecdotal elements.60 It should also be noted that he was no less interested in the work of yet another French author, Zola.61 Besides, his work was connected with that of Prosper Mérimée and Alexandre Dumas fils. Just as Maupassant was published in the Delo almost concurrently with Matavulj, so Dumas’ plays were staged at the same time, constituting the backbone of the repertoire of the National Theatre in Belgrade.62 In the first year of its publication, the Delo paid attention to the French plays and playwrights staged by the National Theatre in Belgrade. The twenty-fifth anniversary of the National Theatre in 1894 prompted the Delo to comment on the work of the theatre, acknowledging and commend- ing the fact that Sardou’s Patrie was included in the celebratory repertoire.63 In the course of the same year, the Delo brought reviews of two works by 58 Matavulj makes mention of the following authors: Racine, Molière, Bossuet, Rous- seau, Voltaire, Chateaubriand, Hugo, Lamartine, Vigny, Musset, Bonnville, George Sand, Dumas, Daudet, Moréas, Flaubert, France, Maupassant, the Goncourt brothers, Zola, Bourget, Balzac, Vauguillet, Sue, de Kock, Sardou, Mirabeau, Eror, Simo Mata- vulj, 10. 59 In 1893, he translated Maupassant’s travelogue Sur l ’eau, and the following year both his and Maupassant’s works appeared in the Delo. Matavulj also translated a part of Zola’s novel La Reve, with the famous writer’s permission, and published it in the Glas Crnogoraca in 1888. Of Molière’s works, he translated Le bourgeois genti homme and Le misanthrope. Cf. Savković, Bibliographie des réalistes français, 115, and Eror, Simo Mata- vulj, 12–13. 60 Istorija srpskog naroda VI-2, 314. 61 In 1894, the Delo published Matavulj’s article “O Zolinom poreklu” [On Zola’s ori- gin]. The influence of Émile Zola and his movement on Matavulj is reflected mainly in his inclination to naturalist tranches de la vie and portray the seamier side of bourgeois life. Eror, Simo Matavulj, 47. 62 Savković, L’Influence du réalisme français, 360–379. 63 “Sardou’s magnificent drama Patrie (translated from Czech!) was performed on the third day. The beauty and grandeur of this play makes it quite appropriate for celebra- A. Kolaković, French Literature in the Journal Delo 161 Dumas, père and fils: Henri III et sa Cour and La dame aux camélias. The jour- nal’s theatre critic M. K. Dragutinović, pointing to the significance of both for furthering and innovating the art of drama, underlined that “as a play, La dame aux camélias is very important because it has set French dramatic art on a fresh course: moderate realism, which has gradually prevailed on the modern stage.”64 In the journal’s first two years, its editors and contributors closely followed Dumas’ work, and not only literary, as shown by the text in which Dumas put forth his views on the position of women in society. Beside Dumas, another favourite of the theatre lovers found its place in the Delo: the famous French dramatist Jean Racine and his play Phaedra. The Delo’s critic described Racine’s Phaedra as “so profound and so powerful that hardly any poet has ever taken such a deep look into the human innermost soul and shed so much light on passion as Racine in his Phaedra.”65 The Delo also carried the reviews of Frou-Frou, a comedy by Meilhac and Halévy, and Febre’s drama Jeane d ’Arc.66 In its ninth volume, the Delo published Albert Malet’s “Srpsko pozorište i francuska dela” [Serbian Theatre and French Works”].67 Giving credit to the former French students for trans- lating French plays, Malet concludes that “the Serbian audience prefers French works to any other translations.”68 Apart from Dumas and Racine, the Delo devoted much attention to Victor Sardou.69 In a number of issues, it brought the statistics for the National Theatre in Belgrade, which reflect- tory performance, and it is very good that this patriotic and powerful play has been included in the celebratory programme“, Delo, Vol. 4 (1894). 64 Delo, Vol. 1 (1894), 422. The Delo extensively wrote about Dumas fils on the occasion of his death. Bogdan Popović, a French-educated literary critic and professor, wrote his obituary. In addition to this brief overview of the oeuvre of Alexandre Dumas père, the Delo printed his letter to Maria Shelga Levy: “La question aux femmes”. Delo, Vol. 8 (1895), 283–286. 65 Delo, Vol. 1 (1894), 191. Jean Racine plays were not often staged in Serbia, and before the First World War only Phaedra was staged in Belgrade. Cf. Glumac Tomović, Fran- cuski klasičari, 124. 66 Delo, Vols. 2–3 (1894). 67 The article was taken from La Revue bleue of 7 September 1895. King Alexander Obrenović’s former professor, Albert Malet, wrote quite commendably about the Ser- bian theatre, which, despite lack of funds, managed to keep up with Europe, primarily with the famous French scene. According to Malet, French plays accounted for one- third of the repertoire of the National Theatre in Belgrade, which testifies to a tremen- dous influence of French culture on Serbian society. Delo, Vol. 9 (1896), 473–479. 68 Delo, Vol. 9 (1896), 478. 69 Delo, Vol. 14 (1897), 546–552. Balcanica XL162 ed the Serbian audience’s great interest in French works.70 The profound and lasting influence of French literary works and plays on cultural life in Serbia became evident in the early twentieth century. The abovementioned authors and their works opened the way for the French cultural influence on the public scene in Serbia. Along with them, distinguished authors of other literatures stirred the Balkan backwaters and made the public aware of international trends. In the late nineteenth and early twentieth centuries, the press un- derwent a substantial change, becoming a reflection of cultural trends in society. With the interior of the country becoming increasingly aware of the significance of the written word, Belgrade ceased being the only lit- erary-minded public. Moreover, the reading public became choosier and their interest shifted from politics to everyday life, culture, science. The edi- tors of journals sought to encourage their readers’ interest in reading books and in reflection, thereby fostering the process of civilizational progress. The Serbian journals of that period, the Delo included, mirrored their time and current circumstances.71 As the Delo emerged in the interval between two other important literary journals, Otadžbina (Fatherland) and Srpski književni glasnik, its role in Serbian culture was at its strongest during its first publication run, from 1894 to 1899. And, although its importance de- clined with the appearance of the Glasnik in 1901, its openness to different views and perspectives, as shown by the analysis of the presence of French literature on its pages, introduced a pluralism of ideas and a wide range of foreign models to the Serbian cultural scene. The editors and contributors to the Delo, mostly educated and trained in major European centres, contrib- uted to the creation of a climate conducive to the modernization of Serbian culture and its “opening to European trends”.72 70 The Delo’s review of the theatrical season 1911/2 states that of 110 productions forty were original and thirty-nine were French performed ninety-three times; there were nine German plays performed twenty-five times, six English plays performed twenty- two times, five Italian plays performed six times, four Danish plays performed eleven times, and three Russian plays performed twenty times. There were also one Italian, one Greek and one Hungarian play. The French plays obviously accounted for more than one-half of the theatre’s repertoire. Moreover, the financial data show that the produc- tions of French plays were best attended. Delo, Vol. 66 (1913). 71 “As journals form part of popular culture and as they communicate and are intended for communication with a large number of people, it is interesting to look into the in- teraction between all participants in literary communication — the author, the text, the intermediaries and the reading public”, S. Peković, “Model časopisa na početku veka” [ Journal model at the beginning of the century], in Tradicionalno i moderno u srpskim časopisima, 9. 72 Petković, “Engleske teme”, 348. A. Kolaković, French Literature in the Journal Delo 163 As noted above, the Delo did not lay down an explicit programme, but an implicit one is clearly observable: to further Serbian culture. France and her cultural values were seen as a model and basis on which to build and improve the cultural climate in Serbia as a prerequisite for the state to move forwards. The start of the journal is associated with the Radical Party, i.e. its younger wing. And yet, a Radical ideological influence on the jour- nal was not as strong as might be expected. Its editorial policy was largely shaped by individuals, the journal’s editors and contributors, and its content often depended on their personal preferences. Choosing science, literature and social life as the journal’s areas of interest, the founders and editors demonstrated their commitment to modernizing the young Serbian state and society by way of culture. Seeking to make progress, the editors and contributors turned to the leading cultural centres of the time. Their goal may sometimes seem vague and obscure, but the reason is the absence of a clear-cut programme and the frequently changing editors and contributors. It was these changes, however, that enabled the presence in the journal of different, even diametrically opposed, views. As for the Delo’s literary policy, it showed a tendency observable in other literary journals of the time: to show Serbian literature “the ways it should follow”.73 French culture and literature became an unavoidable in- strument in pursuing that goal. Russian literature was an equally strong presence on its pages. Of all foreign literatures, these two prevailed in the journal, which in a way shows how the Russo-French political rapproche- ment, viewed in an idealized manner in Serbia, became reflected in the cul- tural pursuits of Serbian society. It is obvious that the proportion of French literature in the Delo was greater when its contributors were intellectuals educated in France.74 Under the editorship of Ilija Vukićević and Milovan Milovanović, the latter being known as “the Balkans’ greatest European”, French influence was more marked than under the editorship of Stojan Protić and Dragoljub Pavlović. These stronger French influences were re- flected primarily in the number of contributions by French authors or in the number of references to the French state and society made by domestic authors. That French culture was highly appreciated by Serbian intellectuals is suggested by the fact that the journal announced the publication of new French literary works each time the subscription fee was to be increased.75 73 Peković, “Model časopisa na početku veka”, 11. 74 The most important role in disseminating the influence of French culture, ideas and habits in Serbia was played by the so-called “Parisians”, Serbian intellectuals educated in France from 1841. Upon their return to Serbia, these young and educated men usu- ally assumed high and influential positions. See Bataković, “Četiri generacije parizlija”. 75 Delo, Vols. 1–74. Balcanica XL164 Analysis of the journal’s content reveals the presence of almost all recognized French authors, both contemporary and past. Molière, Dumas fils, Racine and Sardou dominated not only the stage of Serbian theatres, but also the pages of the Delo. The distinguished literary critics Lemaitre, Sainte-Beuve and Taine were unavoidably referred to in the domestic au- thors’ contributions to the Delo, such as those of Svetislav Simić and Bogdan Popović. Their original work opened the way to new ideas and movements and to the advance of Serbian literature. During the first publication run, when Bogdan Popović, Svetislav Simić, Jovan Skerlić and Mihailo Vujić were contributors, though very briefly and in few issues, the French spirit and contemporary trends featured quite prominently. The Delo lost the ma- jority of its contributors to the Glasnik in the early twentieth century, but it did not lose all cultural influence, its French aspect in particular. The French spirit and contemporary trends were rather prominent. After Popović and Simić, French topics in the Delo were dealt with by Nikola S. Petrović and Grgur Berić. The latter published his study “The French Spirit in Litera- ture”, which provided an overview of French literature from La chanson de Roland, Rabelais, Calvin and Ronsard to Molière and Racine, and further on to the literature of the “age of philosophy and revolution”. The number of French literary topics during the second publication run is smaller, but it should be remembered that in Serbia, under the threat of war from the be- ginning of the 1900s, political themes naturally took precedence; but even in that situation, the Delo published several works by French authors, in the spirit of establishing closer relations with France. Among the most impor- tant was the translation of Denis Diderot’s Le neveu de Rameau. Together with Zola and Maupassant, Diderot’s literary work decisively influenced the shaping of Serbian literary trends and the formation of the Serbian greatest literary figures. French literature offered guidelines and models to the realist and naturalist movements, subsequently also to modernist and avant-garde tendencies in Serbian literature. Moreover, the journal’s editors and contrib- utors closely followed the then leading French journals, such as Revue bleue, Journal des débats and Revue des deux mondes, translating and publishing the texts they deemed important for Serbia’s cultural development. This is yet another proof of the great effort the group rallied around the Delo put into keeping abreast of cultural trends and pursuits in Europe and the world.76 The French written word in the Delo fulfilled its purpose, and the French spirit inherent in French literature was finding its way to the Ser- bian elites both indirectly and directly. Of course, Serbian intellectuals were 76 “Delo, fondée par un groupe d’hommes de lettres qui appartenaient au parti radical, a réussi par son contenu littéraire, scientifique et sociologique à avoir vraiment le caractère des grands revues européennes”, Savković, Bibliographie des réalistes français, 129–130. A. Kolaković, French Literature in the Journal Delo 165 interested in other literatures as well, such as Russian and German, but they may be said to have been imbued by the French spirit. The cultural influence of France enriched Serbian culture and inspired it to attain new artistic heights. Aware that “what you have read remains in you even after you put the book down; the impression lasts, just as a chord played on the harp resounds and vibrates even after you ceased plucking its strings,”77 the group rallied around the Delo chose the field of culture to begin their mis- sion of modernizing Serbia, a field where the results can only be achieved through painstaking effort, but where the effect is the most powerful and most lasting. Bibliography and sources Aleksić-Pejković, Lj. Odnosi Srbije sa Francuskom i Engleskom: 1903–1914. Belgrade: Istorijski institut SANU, 1965. Bataković, D. T. “Evropski poredak i srpsko pitanje: francuska perspektiva”. In Evropa i Srbi, 447–459. Belgrade: Istorijski institut SANU, 1996. — “Francuski uticaji u Srbiji 1835–1914. Četiri generacije parizlija”. Zbornik Matice srpske za istoriju 56 (1997), 73–95. Begić, M. Jovan Skerlić et la critique littéraire en Serbia. Paris: Institut d’Etudes slave, 1963. —Jovan Skerlić čovek i delo. Belgrade: Prosveta, 1966. Bled, J.-P. “O francusko-srpskim odnosima u XIX veku”. Meridijani 1 (1998), 64–66. Delo (list za nauku, knjževnost i društveni život). 74 vols. Belgrade–Niš 1894–1915. Djordjević, D. Milan Milovanović. Belgrade: Prosveta, 1962. Glumac-Tomović, Lj. Francuski klasičari kod nas. Belgrade: Narodnja knjiga, 2005. Eror, G. Simo Matavulj i francuska književnost. Belgrade: SANU, 1974. Jovanović, S. “Političko poreklo”. Srpski književni glasnik, n.s. XXXII/ 2, 129–131. — “Političke ideje Jovana Skerlića”. Vol. 12 of Sabrana dela Slobodana Jovanovića, 708– 710. Belgrade: BIGZ & SKZ, 1991. — “Bogdan Popović”. Vol. 11 of Sabrana dela Slobodana Jovanovića, 111–112. Belgrade: BIGZ & SKZ, 1991. — “Milovan Milovanović“. Vol. 11 of Sabrana dela Slobodana Jovanovića, 211–255. Bel- grade 1991. Matavulj, S. Beleške jednog pisca. Vol. 4 of Sabrana dela. Belgrade: Prosveta, 1953–1956. Mladenović, D. “Delo na raskršću vekova i epoha”. Bibliotekar 1–3 (1986), 63–65. Odavić, R. Essai de bibliographie française sur les Serbes, Croates et Slovènes depuis le com- mencement de la guerre actuelle. Paris: self-published, 1918. Pavlović, M. U dvostrukom ogledalu: francusko-srpske kulturne i knjževne veze. Belgrade: Prosveta, 1996. 77 Delo, Vol. 2 (1894), 108. UDC 050.41(497.11)”Delo”:930.85(=133.1)”18/19” Balcanica XL166 — Ed. Medjunarodni naučni skup srpsko-francuski odnosi 1904–2004. Belgrade: Društvo za kulturnu saradnju Srbija-Francuska & Arhiv Srbije, 2004. Peković, S., and V. Matović, eds., Tradicionalno i moderno u srpskim časopisima 1894– 1914. Novi Sad: Matica srpska & Belgrade: Institut za književnost i umetnost, 1992. Peković, S. “Model časopisa na početku veka”. In Tradicionalno i moderno u srpskim časopisima na početku veka 1895–1914, 9–16. Novi Sad–Belgrade 1992. Petković, Z. “Engleske teme u Srpskom književnom glasniku i Delu do 1914”. In Tradicionalno i moderno u srpskim časopisima na početku veka 1895–1914, 347–352. Novi Sad–Belgrade 1992. Popov, Č. Francuska i Srbija: 1871–1878. Belgrade: SANU, 1974. Savković, M. L’Influence du réalisme français dans le roman serbo-croate. Paris: Librairie ancienne Honoré Champion, 1935. — Bibliographie des réalistes français dans la littérature serbo-croate. Paris: Jouve, 1935. — La Littérature yougoslave moderne. Belgrade: Bur. centr. de pr., 1936. Skerlić, J. Istorija nove srpske književnosti. Belgrade: Prosveta, 1912. Srpski književni glasnik. 95 vols. (1901–1941). Vojvodić, M. Srbija u medjunarodnim odnosima krajem XIX i početkom XX veka. Belgrade: SANU, 1988. — Putevi srpske diplomatije. Belgrade: Clio, 1999. This paper results from the project of the Institute for Balkan Studies History of political ideas and institutions in the Balkans in the 19th and 20th centuries (no 147044) funded by the Ministry of Science of the Republic of Serbia. 
work_upcfwjzo5jfshbzhs7rcjpuvlm	----	The exhibition of otherness Cromohs (Cyber Review of Modern Historiography), ISSN 1123-7023, 20/2015-16 © Firenze University Press Raphaële Garrod, Cosmographical Novelties in French Renaissance Prose (1550 - 1630) Dialectic and Discovery Turnhout (Belgium), Brepols Publishers, 2016 [ISBN: 9782503550459; € 100 excl. tax] SIMON DUMAS PRIMBAULT European University Institute, Florence Since the reappraisal of the supposed Scientific Revolution by the historiography of knowledge, an expansive literature has been published on the making of facts in early modern natural philosophy. In particular, historians of knowledge and science have dwelled on the many technologies pertaining to the apparently paradoxical construction of facts, or invention of discoveries – technologies ranging from theories through to field work and experimental instruments. Although so-called “literary technologies” have not escaped this focus, they have been too often reduced to publication and diffusion strategies, considering text as a mere medium of communication. Yet the rhetoric and poetics of science have much to tell us about how language itself shapes the scholarly view of the natural world; in other words, how scientific objectivity proper is also constructed through the use of words and arguments. By focusing on the “rhetorical and poetic fabric” of the written text (p.13), Raphaële Garrod’s work intends to shed light on how dialectic as a literary technology helped early modern scholars in constructing facts and inventing discoveries. Based on thorough study of the argumentative structure of five early modern French publications on cosmology and cosmography, Cosmographical Novelties in French Renaissance Prose concentrates on how novelties understood as “epistemological disturbances” to the doxa (p.207) are dealt with from a dialectical and rhetorical point of view, so as to be granted “discursive existence” (p.3), censored, or tailored to fit in the expected framework. My main interest in this book lies in the literary epistemology it unveils for early modern natural philosophy as well as the one it deploys in twenty-first-century historiography, and the link between both. After a linear critical summary of the content of the book, I will consider each of these epistemologies in turn. The Discursive Existence of Novelties After a brief word history of the term “novelty” and the mise en intrigue of the epistemic troubles it raises, Garrod states her main objective in simple terms: how are novelties invented – that is at once discovered and constructed – through the use of rhetorical loci? (p.3) To try to answer that question, she focuses on five books of COSMOGRAPHICAL NOVELTIES IN FRENCH RENAISSANCE PROSE Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 133 cosmology and cosmography published between 1575 and 1664. In these times of great epistemological shifts for cosmography with the Great Voyages and the humanist rediscovery of classics, as well as cosmology – through the observations and modelling of Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo –, dialectic and rhetoric as disciplines and as intellectual tools were undergoing major changes. Indeed, at the turn of the 17th century, a “scholastic, logical tradition of dialectic” overlapped with a “humanist, rhetorical one” while the mid-century “rhetorical turn” would eventually put an end to “dialectic-as-logic” (pp.9-10), thus paving the way for a modern use of language as a supposedly simple and transparent, hence objective, medium. The historiographical relevance of the five books is put forward on the basis of their intended audience – vernacular readers – and therefore of their diffusion and circulation, as well as of the wider philosophical project they undertake and epitomize (pp.30-34). Although the choice of these five sources is perfectly relevant, we could ask whether only printed published texts – every single one of these last three words is of utmost importance – were deemed worth studying. Perhaps a more variegated, albeit limited, selection of sources would have allowed the author to address more deeply the ontological issue that rhetoric and dialectic raise – I will return to this in more detail later. The first chapter of this book is intended as a brief history of dialectic as a discipline and of its links with natural philosophy. Based on a selection of nine textbooks spanning from Aristotle through Boethius to Eustachius, this brief history highlights the ever-changing normative ideals of dialectic and rhetoric, their relation, and their use in argumentation. This chapter is a good introduction to dialectic – understood in Aristotelian terms as “the art of debating about probable issues” (p.38), as opposed to syllogistic – and more particularly to the loci, that is the argumentative structures used to construct a probable demonstration, such as “from similars”, “from testimony”, and “from description”. This chapter extends into no less than five appendices (pp.321-363) recapitulating every single locus and all the definitions and uses they had according to each of the nine textbooks – a precious toolbox for someone eager to engage in similar inquiries. The strength of this first chapter is to get to the heart of the matter immediately: even though it is a brief aside on the sole normative aspects of dialectic and rhetoric as they were taught, it nonetheless makes prominent the important and too often neglected epistemological role dialectic and rhetoric play(ed) in natural philosophy. Now, apart from this main thesis, to which I will return, Raphaële Garrod also addresses a number of secondary issues in each chapter. After the first and introductory chapter, the book is divided in two parts containing respectively two and three chapters. The first part of the book, comprising chapters two and three, is SIMON DUMAS PRIMBAULT Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 134 devoted to cosmological novelties – cosmology being understood as the part of natural philosophy concerned with the study of the universe as a whole. Chapter two, by comparing the uses of loci in Pierre de la Primaudaye’s Troisième tome de l’Académie françoise (1590) and Etienne Binet’s “Pour parler des cieux et de ses merveilles” in Essay des merveilles de nature (1621), aims at showing how arguments of similitude, authority, or definition turn natural philosophical knowledge of the universe into theological tools for the parallel interpretation of nature and scripture. Therefore, Garrod intends to nuance the “Harrison’s hypothesis” according to which the Reformation’s biblical literalism has had a huge influence on the development of science during the early modern period – the Protestant emphasis on the literal meaning of scriptures would have fostered a new hermeneutic highly profitable for science. Raphaële Garrod argues instead that French Huguenots were influenced by Hermetic or Neoplatonic doctrines that led to a redefinition of biblical literalism. In chapter three, the author focuses on two sharp critiques of dialectic and authority: Montaigne’s “Apologie de Raimond Sebond” in his Essais (written between 1572 and 1592) and Descartes’ Le Monde (written between 1630 and 1633). Though both authors have the same target, they do not have the same objective. While Montaigne’s criticism is fostered by his scepticism – there can be no unique truth for human knowledge nor can there be any consensus ending dialectical debates –, Descartes’ aims at promoting his epistemology of clear and distinct ideas – no need for debate nor bookish authorities – as incommensurably opposed to scholasticism. Garrod’s stance regarding that confrontation is that the counterpart of such a slating of dialectic can only be a “growing rhetorical and poetic use of loci as persuasive devices and as structures of cosmological fiction” (p.153): for Montaigne to equate philosophy with poetry and sophistry, for Descartes as an intellectual tool to support his renewed and demonstrative mechanical philosophy. The second part of the book, composed of chapters four, five, and six, focuses on cosmographical novelties proper, cosmography being “the description of the earth within the greater system of the world” (p.212), the fourth chapter aiming to clarify cosmographical terms and disciplines through a quick review of the existing literature. Chapters five and six are indeed attempting to clarify the fragmentation of cosmography and the birth of geography by studying François de Belleforest’s La Cosmographie universelle de tout le monde (1575), a translation and rewriting of Sebastian Münster’s Cosmographica universalis (1550) that here acts as an unacknowledged sixth historical source. In the short period that separates both publications, Garrod witnesses an important change in the use of the locus “from authority”: while Münster uses it as a safeguard to protect the doxa by censoring any novelty, Belleforest systematically (re)assesses authorities in a critical manner. These “discursive transfers of authority” (p.4) are for Raphaële Garrod what permitted the “cosmographical COSMOGRAPHICAL NOVELTIES IN FRENCH RENAISSANCE PROSE Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 135 revolution” that replaced the elemental sphere of cosmology with a more geographical representation of our planet as a body made of earth and water. Furthermore, in the course of this process, Garrod identifies the birth of national geography as a discipline through Belleforest’s use of the locus “from notation” to derive national borders from historical criteria. A Literary Epistemology Shedding light on the epistemic uses and criticisms of dialectic and rhetoric in the writing of cosmological and cosmographical essays in French Renaissance prose, Raphaële Garrod succeeds in unveiling a wide world of scholars for whom the natural philosophical discourse is not of pure necessity such as Descartes would have us believe with his clear and distinct ideas, Leibniz with his characteristica universalis or Newton with his prisca sapientia; scholars for whom knowledge is intrinsically debatable, for whom nature is in-between necessity and contingency – as Melanchthon himself states (p.77). Be it for the sceptical reasons of Montaigne, for whom poetry and speculation amount to the same thing, or for epistemically grounded ones, the conscious and non- conscious uses these scholars made of dialectical loci speak in favour of an ontological reappraisal of the modal status of natural-philosophical knowledge during the early modern period. All the more so as, by the mid-17th century, a rhetorical turn was occurring that would sweep everything away and root out the long-standing myth of (the existence of a) language as a mere, hence clear and distinct, medium of communication. Beyond epistemological issues, dialectic thus raises ontological ones and, indeed, for Ramus and Melanchthon (pp.73-82) as well as for Eustachio (p.93), “dialectic is partly grounded in ontology” (p.42) for, contrary to syllogistic which draws its demonstrative efficacy from the form of the propositions, dialectic does so from the matter of the terms implicated. Antique ontological issues that are nonetheless at the heart of contemporary – dialectical – debates in history and philosophy of science. Focusing on this period and these disciplines, Raphaële Garrod accomplishes with verve her goal of going beyond the traditional polar opposites of intellectual history such as “bookish knowledge versus experience” or “dialectical versus analytical” (p.4), for it is precisely the crossing of these dichotomies that she investigates. Hence, she brilliantly – and dialectically – demonstrates how words and arguments are as many tools and instruments used in the making of natural philosophical novelties, in just the same way as telescopes, air-pumps, and field samples. Addressing epistemological disturbances this way, Garrod also succeeds in bringing early modern science closer to the historiographical practice of debate and SIMON DUMAS PRIMBAULT Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 136 consensus through rhetoric and poetic (p.292sq) – a rapprochement worth making today while the contemporary historical discipline is claiming its scientificity. Yet it seems at the very conclusion of her work that the author yields to the Cartesian perspective, arguing that the effectiveness of dialectic rested on the frailty of an Aristotelian ontology under attack – as if we could detach the ontological enterprise from the use of words, for there would be an object already there before its “mise en texte” (p.5), just waiting for its “integration” (p.318). This said, if ontology is indeed displaced during this period through the reorganisation of the scholarly landscape between natural philosophy, experimental philosophy, and mathematical physics, we do find such dialectic and rhetorical threads in the fabric of the myriad mechanical philosophies that are as many supposedly steady ontological grounds. By considering only printed published texts, I think that the author has only been able to draw part of the picture regarding that specific issue. A quick look at the so- called method of invention – revealed by drafts and notes, for example – as opposed to the method of exposition that the printed published texts reveal, could allow us to go beyond the “mise en texte” and take into account the fact that there can be no thinking without textual operations, and that there is actually no strict dichotomy between invention and exposition, as if they were two separate and successive intellectual operations. Thus, discursive existence is not just a supplementary, hence dispensable, ontological layer. It is rather a mode of existence. Something silenced is not merely refused discursive existence – it is not “censored discovery” –, it is properly refused existence – it is “not discovery”. Despite Descartes’ clear and distinct ideas, ontology is intrinsically entwined with the use of language, it is always a matter of dialectic and rhetoric. History as a Dialectic Such a use of language is not necessarily conscious or intentional and that is where Raphaële Garrod’s philosophy of history-as-a-dialectic is of utmost importance. Indeed, by looking at the argumentative structure of such sources and by acknowledging that she is “investigating neither authorial intentions nor conscious manipulations of precise sources” (p.64), Garrod bypasses the straightforward issue concerning what the authors wanted to do – even in terms of speech acts – and focuses rather on how they did what they actually did. She therefore judiciously goes beyond the mere meaning of the text – in its etymological sense of “intending” or “having in mind” – to address its proper poetic and rhetorical fabric, which betrays not solely what the text means but most importantly what it does not mean. Garrod makes the text talk; she makes it say more than it would have wanted to say, more than it actually means. COSMOGRAPHICAL NOVELTIES IN FRENCH RENAISSANCE PROSE Cromohs 20/2015-16 - p. 137 Although it would have benefited from a short discussion on the use of the English language to write a book about French prose – a choice that might be profitable as well, for translation may also smooth linguistic bias (e.g. p.121 and pp.169- 170) –, it is thanks to this extremely stimulating hermeneutics that Raphaële Garrod unravels the latent mechanisms at work in the natural philosophical thought of the early modern period: faint stirrings deep under the surface of a conscious writing that nonetheless are the cause of the waves and currents; somehow dormant thought processes that only such a historical reading may reveal. Choosing this object and this perspective, Garrod is under no illusion that she is attempting the construction of a supposedly “scientific” fact – “it might not state a fact, but it brings forth a valid meaning” (p.64) – and this is worth emphasising, all the more so today while scientificity is dangerously appealing to the practice of history, even though “being scientific” is no longer a title of nobility. Hence, the thinking and writing of this book are themselves rooted in rhetoric and dialectic as acknowledged by the author herself (p.64): taking chance into account, relying on probable reasoning, making use of loci, and most importantly opening a space for debate far beyond an illusion of historical objectivity. *** As a concluding remark, the author underlines the “epistemic ambivalence” (p.318) generated by the use of dialectical invention, for there was no unique way to grant discursive existence to novelties, no straightforward path to the resolution of such epistemic disturbances. Hence the large number of variegated natural philosophical world-views competing in the early modern scholarly world; hence also the epistemic shift from the search for the ontological grounds of the natural world towards the construction of models on the basis of experiment i.e. empiricism (p.317). Thus echoing issues raised by historical research, thus deconstructing the intertwining of an early modern literary epistemology and a contemporary history as a dialectic, Raphaële Garrod accomplishes the difficult task of recasting the issues raised both by the practice of science and the practice of history on common matters relating to modality and objectivity, reopening the – dialectical – debate about the rhetorical and poetic invention of the world by scholarly endeavours. As such, this book does indeed “bring forth a valid meaning” (p.64). 
work_uql34i43n5httnbxeqyqcponcy	----	Building Durable Missions Through Cultural Exchange: Language, Religion, and Trade on the Frontier Missions of Paraguay Mark Farine Thesis submitted to the Faculty of Graduate and Postdoctoral Studies In partial fulfilment of the requirements For the MA degree in History Department of History Faculty of Arts University of Ottawa © Mark Farine, Ottawa, Canada, 2017 ii Table of Contents Abstract iii Acknowledgements iv Introduction – Cultural Exchange in a Forgotten Colony 1 Chapter 1 – From Mohammed’s Paradise to the Christian Jesuit Republic: 17 colonial Paraguay before the Jesuits Chapter 2 – Uneven Syncretism: The Coming Together of Guaraní and Christian 36 Worldviews in the Early Missionary Period Chapter 3 – The Beautiful Words: The Linguistic Survival of Guaraní 51 Chapter 4 – Check Mate: The Strategic Implications of Yerba Mate in the 68 Missions Conclusion – Forgotten Colony, Surviving Culture 92 Appendix 1 99 Appendix 2 105 Bibliography 108 iii Abstract This thesis explores the cultural interactions between the Jesuit missionaries and the Guaraní indigenous peoples in the missions of Paraguay from 1609 to 1767. A particular attention is given to the missions’ formative years in which both groups refined their cultural strategies. Specifically, this thesis will explore the collaboration between the two groups and the cultural concessions made by both sides for the project to succeed. While missions are used as an area of evangelization by the Orders that operate them, involvement with the Jesuits allowed the Guaraní to avoid interactions with other settlers and colonial authorities. By agreeing to convert, they gained the protection of the Jesuits. However, they consistently threatened to leave or to refuse work if their protectors took away their most treasured cultural elements: their divine language and their use of sacred herbs like yerba mate. Furthermore, this thesis delves into power relations in the forgotten frontier. An inconsequential source of income for the Spanish Crown, the Province of Paraguay’s main importance was a presence in the buffer zone next to the Portuguese Empire in Brazil. Actors in this frontier─including the Guaraní and the Jesuits─were granted more autonomy and were able to interact with very little royal interference, resulting in an organic cultural exchange between the groups. iv Acknowledgements It has not always been my dream to write about cultural interactions on the Jesuit missions of Paraguay. I first took an interest in the country during the summer after my freshman year, when some casual reading brought me to the fact that the Guaraní language is the most spoken one in the country─the only indigenous language to hold such a distinction in the Americas. Studying Political Science and International Development and Globalization at the time, I became fascinated by the landlocked country; the passion has grown with every project. I owe a debt of gratitude to many professors who have helped me along my academic path. First and foremost, I must thank my supervisor Doctor Alberto Flórez- Malagón. Through a challenging two years, he has helped guide my path and has advised my academic choices along the way. He has also helped shape my progress as an academic, as my experience assisting him with undergraduate classes and guest lecturing about the Church’s role in Latin America have helped prepare me for upcoming academic ventures. His influence can be seen in his shaping of my belief that history is about processes, not individual moments: this influence will be recognizable in the following pages. I would also like to thank Professor Stephen Baranyi, who in my second year patiently guided me with the first academic paper of which I could be proud. Like most, Paraguay was not his specialty, but he enthusiastically helped launch my specialization when I approached him about what I wanted to study. Years later, he was the one who recommended that I work with Dr. Flórez-Malagón. I would also like to thank Professors Marie-Christine Doran, Raphaël Canet, María Margarita López, and Jorge Carlos Guerrero, who have all repeatedly shared their knowledge and guidance with me v throughout my undergraduate studies. Thanks are also in order for Dr. Julia Sarreal of Arizona State University for graciously providing her doctoral dissertation, which proved to be of great use. Recognition must also be offered to the University of Ottawa’s Department of History; both the Faculty Members and the administrative staff. To Professors Henri Habib and François Lalonde, I learned a tremendous amount about teaching, about interacting with students, and about academic integrity from assisting you in your classes; these experiences were invaluable to me. To Professors Micheline Lessard and M. Mark Stolárik, your flexibility in working with me to integrate my research interests with the themes of our seminars was greatly appreciated. A note must also underline the weekly contributions by Manon Bouladier-Major, Camille Charbonneau, and Suzanne Dalrymple in making the Department a great place to pursue one’s studies. J’aimerais aussi remercier les archivistes des Archives des Jésuites au Canada, en particulier Valérie Grothé. Elles ont aidé à assurer que mes courtes visites à Montréal soient efficaces et productives. This thesis would not have been possible without the help of Annik Bilodeau, a former Professor and current friend, who encouraged me to pursue graduate studies. She has been a mentor to me over the last three years and has provided invaluable support─also known as tough love─and comradery when they were needed. My fellow graduate students Natalie Benjamin, Bobby Cole, Eric Fecteau, Brent Holloway, Julien Labrosse, Mathieu Laflamme, Mélanie Morin, Cleo Reinink, Logan Scott, Justin Smith, David Suatac, and George Wills have all provided insights and influenced my way of thinking in the years we’ve spent together. vi Finally, I would like to thank my family in New Brunswick without whom this would not have been possible. John, Louise, and Danica Farine: thank you. Along the same lines, my girlfriend Riley DeForest has been by my side the whole time and experienced my rollercoaster ride with me. Thank you all for listening to me when the words were not forthcoming and for patiently reassuring me that it would come together. Thank you to my Ottawa family─Dan DeForest, Aroha DeForest and Sam De Forest─for providing an outlet when it was needed. 1 Introduction Cultural Exchange in a Forgotten Colony Building Durable Missions Through Cultural Exchange: Language, Religion, and Trade on the Frontier Missions of Paraguay studies the progressive evolution of the cultural landscape in the frontier missions of Paraguay from 1609 to 1767, with a focus on the first sixty years─the formative period. The title plays on two key terms: “durable” and “cultural exchange”. The use of “durable” implies threats to the missions, which were in this case both internal and external. The main challenge in the missions’ formative period was assuring their survival and longevity. This study is one of codependence; the Guaraní peoples and the Jesuits had to work together despite the few similarities in their worldviews. The term “cultural exchange,” borrowed from sociology’s “social exchange theory,” in which actions are two-sided and intentional1, is used as a substitute for the term “transculturation,” coined by anthropologist Fernando Ortiz to describe the complex set of transmutations that take place in a setting of cultural encounter2. The reason for the substitution is that Ortiz’ terminology is normally applied by scholars to describe a natural process in which cultures mix and blend organically. Of course, this occured to a certain extent in the missions. However, in the case of the three main cultural elements analyzed in this study, the mixing of cultures was intentional by at least one party and was used as a survival mechanism. When referring to Paraguay, the study discusses a geographic entity formed by three major tributaries of the Río de la Plata estuary─the Paraguay, Uruguay and Parana 1 Richard M. Emerson, “Social Exchange Theory,” Annual Review of Sociology 21 (No.1, 1976) p.336. 2 Fernando Ortiz, Cuban Counterpoint: Tobacco and Sugar (Durham: Duke University Press, 1995 [1940]) 98. 2 Rivers3. While the region would commonly be known as “colonial Paraguay,” referring to it as such may lead to confusion, as the historic area now covers four modern countries: Argentina, Brazil, Paraguay and Uruguay. This area was particularly fertile for agriculture, but extremely poor in precious metals: Spain could not find any gold or silver, the main minerals for which they came. As industry evolved, the lack of natural resources has continuously plagued Paraguay: no oil, no natural gas, and no copper were to be found either. The area was also landlocked and separated from Lima, the regional colonial centre, by the high peaks of the Andes as well as by the rugged terrain of the Gran Chaco, making travel to and from the colony difficult. These factors, combined with the local population’s semi-nomadic lifestyle, saw Paraguay4 relegated to a place near the bottom of Spain’s list of priorities. This relative lack of interest, when compared to other regions of the Spanish-American Empire, freed some space for other actors to have their voice heard. In fact, the Jesuit missions of Paraguay were home to an intricate, multi-actor negotiation of power. This contradicts the widely accepted narrative, in which only one side is threatened, when it comes to European - Native relations in the Spanish Empire. Just like missions all over the continent─which were built in order to organize large groups of indigenous peoples under the supervision of religious Orders in an attempt to both civilize them and convert them to Christianity─the Jesuit missions of Paraguay were, by definition, a point of cultural contact. Over the course of their 158 years of existence, however, it was the lack of Spanish interest in the area and therefore 3 See Appendix 1; fig. 1 and 2. 4 Occasionally referred to as the “Upper Plata” for its geographic location in reference to the Rio de la Plata estuary. 3 their isolation from Spanish centres which separated them from other missions and allows the study of cultural exchange with limited outside interference. Over the first thirty five years of the existence of the missions, they had nearly as much contact with the neighbouring Portuguese colony as with Asunción, the modern capital of Paraguay and its economic and political centre since its establishment in 1537. The Paraguay missions are also notable for being the largest missionary projects in colonial America5. Much has been studied about this period, which spreads from the founding of the mission of San Ignacio Guazú in 1609 to the Expulsion of the Jesuits from the Spanish Empire in 1767. These studies have generally had a tendency to focuse on economic factors, on the dynamics of the attempted conversion of such a large group of people, and on the economic and political consequences of the interaction for both Europeans and the Guaraní peoples6. Most studies choose one side as the protagonists and concentrate on how the interaction with the other group affected them, both in the short and the long term. Given their isolation from Spanish centres and the sociopolitical power dynamics surrounding them, these missions provide an excellent backdrop for the study of cultural interactions in a “contact zone,” an area of cultural negotiation between groups with differing interests and often mired in asymmetric power relations, to borrow Mary Louise Pratt’s terminology7. While this study must touch on economic and political themes, it is the cultural consequences of these interactions that are of interest 5 Stephen Neill, A History of the Christian Missions (London: Penguin Books, 1990 [1964]) 171 6 Barbara Anne Ganson, The Guaraní Under Spanish Rule in the Río de la Plata (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2003); Julia J.S. Sarreal, The Guaraní and Their Missions: A Socioeconomic History (Stanford: Stanford University Press, 2014); Magnus Mörner, The political and economic activities of the Jesuits in the Río de la Plata region: the Hapsburg era (Stockholm: Library and Institute of Ibero- American studies, 1967); Adalberto López, The revolt of the Comuñeros (sic), 1721-1735 (Cambridge: Schenkman, 1976) to give a few examples. 7 Mary Louise Pratt, Imperial Eyes: Travel Writing and Transculturation (London: Routledge, 1992). 4 and their impact on the survival and change of both the Jesuits as an Order and the Guaraní as a culture. A common typology used to describe power relations in Latin America is a simple geographic divide. The Europeans─mainly through the Royal Administration, the Catholic Church, and later the elite landowners─held the power over the Indigenous populations, who are generally not split into groups in anything but anthropological works. In Paraguay, however, we frequently see groups within this dichotomy veer from their usual roles. Indigenous groups are divided into two subgroups in the mission era: Mission Indian and non-Mission Indians. Though the subgroups are often generalized as “Guaraní,” this term did not refer to a tribe as much as it was a blanket term used to encompass any native speaker of a dialect of the Guaraní language. Like many native populations, the “Guaraní” subgroups were often at war with each other before the arrival of the Europeans. To imply that the “Guaraní” were split solely based on their mission status erases a complex set of pre-existing power relations within the pre- Colombian Upper Plata region. In addition, the missions did not accumulate tribes as much as they accumulated individuals. To join the missions was a personal choice. Guaraní individuals would often find themselves with a choice of living with family in the missions or living with family in a traditional semi-nomadic way of life. Individuals usually followed their chieftain or cacique8; in practice it fell to the cacique to invite the Jesuits to build a mission on their land or to ask the Jesuits to invite them into a pre-existing mission9. This led to 8 Though originally a Taíno term, cacique has come to mean the local chieftain of the dominant indigenous societal unit. In this case, the cacique was known in Guaraní as the teýy-ru. 9 Ganson, The Guaraní Under Spanish Rule 36. 5 fluctuations in mission sizes. If working or living conditions did not live up to a certain standard or if they found themselves too alienated from their culture, individuals would simply cross back over the imaginary mission line and re-join the “non-Mission Indians”. This was a powerful weapon in non-verbal negotiation for the Guaraní; the Jesuits needed them for the survival of the missions, so the priests found themselves forced to comply with these demands. Some traditional hierarchies remained intact in the missions, though there were interruptions in the order with their new partners. That being said, the European side is the one that diverges the most from the model proposed in this typical typology. The perception of a unified European front presented by mid-20th century historians like Mörner is faulty in many aspects. European “power” was split in three main actors: Crown, Church and Citizenry. The only one to present anything remotely close to a united front was the Citizenry, for it was largely made up of people looking to profit off the land, usually using an indigenous workforce. The interests of the settlers were usually uniform, though they did not necessarily correspond to the interests of the Crown and the Church. The Crown, on the other hand, was complex because there were two fronts to consider: the Spain-based Crown itself and the local representatives of the crown, which included notably a Viceroy in Lima and a governor in Asunción. In turn, the representatives of the crown were not always clear, for there were representatives in Asunción, Buenos Aires, and, with the most power, in Lima. Whereas no Spanish outpost dealt directly with the Crown without a representative, only remote outposts had to go through so many of them. It is also worth noting that governorships were usually used as political platforms, so a governor that impressed the Crown gained favour and fortune. This was not as prevalent in the province of Paraguay: due to the previously 6 mentioned lack of resources, the Crown rarely paid attention to developments in Asunción10. This royal apathy led to greater autonomy for the governor, and eventually to a tug of war for power over Asunción between Lima and Buenos Aires. Much like the Crown, the Church was also split. While the Vatican was the supreme power, it relied almost entirely on Orders to spread the faith in the Americas. The plurality of orders often meant a plurality of interpretations of Vatican doctrine. The further one was from Europe─in travel time─the more autonomous the Orders were. Once again, economic importance also played a role: as there was such a strong connection between the Crown and the Vatican, areas of economic or strategic importance to the Crown were watched more closely. In Paraguay, the Church did not directly play a large role, it instead delegated to religious Orders─mainly the Jesuits and the Franciscans. This is an aspect that will be further developed in Chapter one. The Jesuits, on the one hand, portrayed themselves─mostly accurately─ as the defenders of the Guaraní, as they based their practice on protection of the weak and the poor alongside evangelization. Formed in 1540, they were at the time much younger than the other present Orders. To facilitate the organization’s growth, they gained a reputation for establishing a presence in areas difficult to access or of little interest to anyone else. We can think of the Philippines, of Quebec, or of the South American and Asian interiors as examples. In the Upper Plata, this meant establishing a presence at the farthest region of Spanish influence. Late arrivals, they felt their duty was to the Church 10 The best known of the sixteenth and seventeenth century governors of the Upper Plata─whether in the province of Nueva Andalusia, Río de la Plata, Río de la Plata and Paraguay, Guayra, or Paraguay─was likely Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca, who is best known for his role on the ill-fated Narváez expedition through Florida, Louisiana, Texas and Northern Mexico, and not for his unspectacular administration of Nueva Andalusia. 7 and to the people they were trying to convert, not to the settlers or to the establishment. Unlike other Orders, the Jesuit presence in the capital was scarce. The Jesuits represented in the early seventeenth century an upsetting of the status quo. The Jesuits quickly became the most powerful and influential organization in the Upper Plata due to their economic influence and to the number of Guaraní under their protection. However, they never succeeded in establishing a presence in the Diocese, from which the Bishop managed ecclesiastical affairs in the province. Between the creation of the Diocese of Paraguay in 1547 and the end of the eighteenth century, there were eight secular bishops, seven Franciscan bishops, four Dominican bishops, two Mercedarians, one Augustinian, and one Benedictine. Control of the Diocese never therefore represented the true makeup of the religious presence in the Upper Plata, leading to frequent tensions between the Jesuits and the other Orders, usually the Franciscans11. Lost in this description of the power dynamics are the Guaraní. To properly understand the European mindset at the time, it is necessary to describe these relations without taking into account the Guaraní. European correspondence did not recognize realize that the Guaraní also had agency. They had their own internal power structures, which would come to be defined by a battle for influence between the high- shamans─the karai─and the caciques, who would later side with the Jesuits and somewhat convert to Catholicism. They also had individual relations with all the other actors, and their decision to enter mission life was a rational one made by these caciques in an effort to assure the survival of their people and their culture. The Guaraní did not 11 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 57. 8 join forces with the Jesuits because they were suddenly struck by the divine grace of the Catholic God, but because they judged that the Jesuits offered them the best protection from forces that would harm them. They notable felt threatened by the Portuguese bandeirantes12─slave-raiders from Sao Paulo who frequently raided the Upper Plata for Guaraní to bring back with them to Brazil─and the local Asunción elites─who sought to herd them into encomiendas for forced labour. Such a threat were the bandeirantes that, by 1630, two thirds of mission Guaraní were estimated to have been captured13, along with an uncounted amount of non-mission Guaraní. Association with the Jesuits was the best way, they judged, to assure their safety and the survival of their way of life, or at least of parts of their way of life. While the Jesuits could not prevent bandeirante attacks or fully protect the territory they had access to better weaponry and a strategic understanding of bandeirante plans. The Guaraní relationship with the Crown, though is its own dynamic, varied over time. During the battle of 1628 with the Portuguese over the frontier, the Guaraní gladly fought alongside, and more often than not alone, under the Spanish flag. This was not because the Jesuits told them to, but rather because their territory was at stake. A century and a half later, in the aftermath of the treaty of Madrid of 1750, the Guaraní fought for their land again in the Guaraní War, this time against a combined Portuguese and Spanish force─the Spanish having signed over the land in the Treaty without consulting the Guaraní. Once again, this was not a Jesuit initiative, though the Jesuit failure to control the Guaraní contributed to the expulsion of the Jesuits from Portuguese territories in 1759, French ones in 1764 and Spanish ones in 1767. 12 Also known as Mamelucos. 13 Robert H. Jackson, Missions and the Frontiers of Spanish America: A Comparative Study of the Impact of Environmental, Economic, Political, and Socio-Cultural Variations on the Missions in the Río de la Plata Region and on the Northern Frontier of New Spain (Scottsdale: Pentacle Press, 2005) 327. 9 The simplistic polar European-Guaraní typology is a flawed premise when approaching Upper Platine power relations, as multiple sub-actors had various levels of influence. This research will therefore attempt to limit itself to the interactions between the Jesuits and the mission Guaraní. Of course, contextual references to other actors will occur throughout the study as there is pressure placed on the two main actors, but this pressure rarely translated into concrete action14. The main actors generally acted with independence, and it is this independence that makes their cultural exchange worthy of analysis. In order to study this cultural exchange, four elements will be examined in depth, each of which has been analyzed from a restricted angle but not in the context of cultural exchange. All four elements are pertinent to this study as we can find within them changes to both the alien culture and the host culture, meaning concessions were made by both sides in the cultural negotiations surrounding them. In studying these elements, we are able to see the ways that Jesuit missionaries overlooked, allowed or even strategically encouraged the integration of the Guaraní cultural elements into their traditional Christian, usually Spanish, worldview. We can also see how the indigenous Guaraní leveraged things the Jesuits needed, like their very presence in the missions, to integrate their own elements into the dominant alien culture, leading to what Ortiz calls a “transcultured”15 society16. Of course, one would be hard-pressed to argue that the transcultural balance was even, so to say, but the circumstances surrounding the 14 For example, the constant pressure from Madrid to use Castilian as the missionary language instead of Guaraní. 15 The concept of a “transcultured society” as a result is relevant to this study despite earlier criticism of the term “transculturation”; I favour the concept “cultural exchange” as an artificial process rather than the natural “transculturation” but they both result in a transcultured society. 16 Fernando Ortiz, Cuban Counterpoint, 1947. 10 missionary contact zone did allow for a deeper degree of cultural exchange than that found in other contemporary areas of the Spanish Empire, as can be seen by the official use of the Guaraní language. Generally speaking, colonial Paraguay was never an active cog in the Spanish imperial machine. While a provincial capital was established in Asunción, it was never more than that─a provincial capital17. The province’s lack of valuable economic resources─gold and silver, but also copper, sugar, tobacco, and coffee─or its economic disadvantage in producing them relegated it to an afterthought in the mind of Spanish colonial administrators. The governorship and bishopric were seldom sought-after positions, usually going to old colonial servants to thank them for their service, or to young men eager to work their way up18. Throughout the colonial period, Asunción was in the shadow of Lima, which was where the true political and economic action was occurring in the Viceroyalty of Peru. This relative obscurity opened many doors, including the one through which the Society of Jesus entered. Despite not being important politically or economically, the province did share an important border with Portuguese South America and contained a fairly large indigenous population. In order to assure the protection of the border, the imperial administrators wanted to maintain some sort of presence in the area. In addition, the Crown and the Papacy only authorized settlement under set conditions, one of which was the evangelization of the native populace. These conditions, in addition to the fact that the more established religious orders already had comfortable assignments in areas of higher visibility, meant that a 17 Elman R. Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations in Early Colonial Paraguay (Westport: Greenwood Press, 1971) 28. 18 Paola Domingo, Naissance d’une société métisse : aspects socio-économiques du Paraguay de la conquête à travers les dossiers testamentaires (Montpellier : ETILAL Publications, 2006) 172. 11 younger order like the Jesuits would be given a chance to provide its service in the heart of South America. The circumstances surrounding the missions also provided another factor that meant more influence for the Guaraní: numbers. The lack of interest in the area meant that these missions were poorly staffed; one could often find only a handful of ecclesiastics managing a mission that was home to thousands. This numerical advantage could be transferred into a certain strategic advantage when it came to cultural negotiations. Numerically impaired, the Jesuits were unable to run or maintain the missions without the help of the Guaraní, who were well aware of this, and occasionally used it to their advantage when they needed something or when the Jesuits pushed their agenda too strongly. At times of disagreement, the Guaraní would occasionally go back into the forest, or the quality of their work would suffer. These tactics were used as tools to ensure that they had a say in how their lives and surroundings were managed, similar to what James C. Scott calls “weapons of the weak”19. This all leads into the four cultural elements that will be studied: religion, art, language, and yerba mate. Religion is particularly interesting because it represents the main goal of the Jesuit Order: evangelization. Any discussion of syncretism must first come with the recognition that the word “religion” does not fully express this exchange. The Jesuits generally saw the Guaraní as a people without religion, and the two groups cannot be placed on the same level as one practiced a monotheistic religion and the other had more of a polytheistic spiritual worldview. These clashing definitions were actually conductive to syncretism, as the acceptance of Christian rituals did not necessarily 19 James C. Scott, Weapons of the Weak: Everyday Forms of Peasant Resistance (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1985). 12 detract from the practice and observance of the traditional Guaraní ones. Though the Guaraní worldview has essentially been replaced by a syncretized one which considers itself to be under the Christian umbrella today, exceptional anthropological works by Hélène Clastres20, Pierre Clastres21, and León Cadogan22 have guided researchers in Guaraní mythology and have mapped their spiritual belief system. Cadogan, Paraguay’s leading ethnologist, reconstituted what he believed to be pre-contact versions of their founding myths and legends, based on his piecing together of similarities and differences in the tales from interactions with geographically distant subtribes of the Guaraní family. The Jesuit worldview, on the other hand, is well known and was well documented at the time. Multiple complete histories of Paraguay23 were written during the missionary period. These primary sources act as both a guide to their belief system and to how they perceived the Guaraní. In addition, a recently published collection of letters from the superiors general to the fathers on the ground in Paraguay from the Archivum Romanum Societatis Iesu24, the Jesuit archive in Rome, provides insight as to their instructions in all domains, including religion. Upon consultation of these two 20 Hélène Clastres, La terre sans mal : le prophétisme tupi-guaraní (Paris : Éditions du Seuil, 1975). 21 Pierre Clastres, Le grand parler : Mythes et chants sacrés des Indiens Guaraní (Paris : Éditions du Seuil, 1974). 22 León Cadogan, La literatura de los Guaraníes (Mexico: Editorial Joaquín Mortiz, 1970 [1965]). 23 Pedro Lozano SJ, Historia de la Compañía de Jesús de la provincia del Paraguay (Madrid: Supremo Consejo de la Inquisición, 1754-55, 2 vols.); Pierre François Xavier de Charlevoix SJ, Histoire du Paraguay (Paris: Didot, Giffard, Nyon, 1756, 3 vols); Antonio Ruíz de Montoya SJ, The Spiritual Conquest Accomplished by the Religious of the Society of Jesus in the Provinces of Paraguay, Paranâ, Uruguay, and Tape: A Personal Account of the Founding and Early Years of the Jesuit Paraguay Reductions (St Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1993 [1639]); Martin Dobrizhoffer SJ, An account of the Abipones, an equestrian people of Paraguay (London: John Murray, 1802 [1784], 3 vols.); Nicholas del Techo SJ, The History of the Provinces of Paraguay, Tucuman, Rio de la Plata, Parana, Guaira and Uruaica, and something of the Kingdom of Chile in South America, (London: Henry Lintot and John Osborn, 1746 [1673]); Anton Sepp von Reinegg SJ and Anthony Behme SJ, An account of a voyage from Spain to Paraquaria, containing a description of all the remarkable things and the inhabitants, as well as of missionaries residing in that country (Mumbai: Reink Books, 2015 [1697]; Compagnie de Jésus, Le Gouvernement du Paraguay sous les Jésuites (Madrid, 1771). 24 Martín María Morales SJ (ed.), A mis manos han llegado: Cartas de los PP. Generales a la Antigua Provincia del Paraguay (1608-1639) (Roma: Institutum Historicum Societatis Iesu, 2005 [Vol. 1]). 13 pools of sources, the religion and spiritual elements prioritized by both groups can be identified; resting behind those priorities are the elements involved in the cultural exchange. Using this same pool of sources, art can be analyzed. In the missions, art consisted mainly of architecture and ornamental decoration. The centerpiece of the mission and main building worth decorating was always the church; therefore, art in the missions had a strong religious character. Due to the short supply of Europeans in the area, Guaraní residents were trained in classic European artistic techniques and produced most of the buildings, decorations, statues and ornaments on site. Because of the control they had on the mode of religious production, they were able to integrate their spiritual worldview into this Christian art, a phenomenon illustrated by Gauvin Alexander Bailey in his seminal 2001 monograph25 and his 2005 follow-up26, as well as by Serge Gruzinski27. The example of art showcases that transculturation was not always a negotiation, but could sometimes be done covertly by the host culture seeking to assure its survival. The third cultural element worth studying is the concept of linguistic imperialism, first coined by Danish linguist Robert Phillipson28. Though his study focuses on English as the lingua franca in the twentieth century, it can be translated with ease towards the dominance of Castilian in the Spanish Empire. For a few reasons, this strict concept of linguistic imperialism translates poorly to Paraguay, a country where 25 Gauvin Alexander Bailey, Art on the Jesuit Missions of Latin America and Asia, 1542-1773 (Toronto: University of Toronto Press, 2001 [1999]). 26 Gauvin Alexander Bailey, Art of colonial Latin America (London: Phaidon, 2005). 27 Serge Gruzinski, La guerre des images de Christophe Colomb à Blade Runner (1492-2019) (Paris: Fayard, 1990). 28 Robert Phillipson, Linguistic Imperialism (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1992). 14 more people in the twenty-first century speak Guaraní than Spanish. Joan Rubin29 attempts to explain this by drawing heavily on the concept of “language loyalty,” a sort of nationalism based on language, and on various demographic elements that restricted the Spaniards’ ability to spread the use of their language. Lenka Zajícová also reduced the use of Guaraní in the colonial period to one of demographic necessity30. While the conditions described by these linguists were all real, Jesuit chroniclers offer a different explanation: language simply was not as big a priority in Paraguay as it was elsewhere in the world. Whereas the Christian faith was seen as the one true faith of the civilized people by the Spanish Crown and by the Vatican, multiple European languages were considered as civilized under the same umbrella. Jesuit missionaries did not see a need to civilize the Guaraní linguistically because their language was already considered the equivalent of any European one. If anything, the only form of linguistic imperialism that can be seen on the mission is seen when the Jesuits attempted to write down the Guaraní language in grammars and the recording of history on paper rather than through oral traditions. Lynn Mario T. Menezes de Sousa31 argues that the true “white man’s language” in this case is the written language, making the study of linguistic imperialism a particularly interesting one in the context of colonial Paraguay. Finally, the fourth cultural element to be analyzed is the cultural importance of yerba mate, or Paraguayan tea. Originally frowned upon as “the devil’s herb,” yerba mate soon grew into the missions’ main source of economic livelihood. Culturally, it is 29 Joan Rubin, National Bilingualism in Paraguay (The Hague: Mouton, 1968). 30 Lenka Zajícová, El bilingüismo paraguayo: Usos y actitudes hacia el guaraní y el castellano (Madrid: Iberoamerica, 2009). 31 Lynn Mario T. Menezes de Souza, Entering a Culture Quietly: Writing and Cultural Survival in Indigenous Education in Brazil, 2006. 15 one of the many “sacred herbs” that was used as medicine by the Guaraní shamans before contact. Though it was not consumed recreationally in precolonial times, the Guaraní insistence on its consumption in the missions showcases the adaptability of cultural elements─the use of yerba mate was modified to assure its survival. Many modern socioeconomic histories have been written about Paraguay; all of them devote important sections to the yerba mate trade32. Though those volumes are all very useful in this section as well as throughout the study, they do not properly assess the dilemma faced by Jesuits when they realized that a product they had labelled as the devil’s was indispensable to the success of the missions, both economically and demographically. Some of the aforementioned chroniclers33 discuss the issue, but they tend to shy away from both the herb’s meaning and the Jesuit interpretation of it. Andrés Prieto34, however, explains the forced shift of the Jesuit interpretation to fit the acceptance of the herb in missionary life. In doing so, he also explores the European expropriation of indigenous knowledge, a frequently occurring phenomenon in contact zones, but nevertheless a means of survival for the host culture. Though a variety of primary sources were consulted for this study, the nature of the thesis prevents us from overly trusting their validity. The Guaraní peoples have a rich oral tradition, but their language was never written down in precolonial times and 32 Ganson, Guaraní under Spanish rule; Sarreal, The Guaraní and their Missions; Adalberto López,, Comuñeros; Thomas Whigham, The Politics of River Trade: Tradition and Development in the Upper Plata, 1780-1870 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1991); Elman R Service, Spanish- Guaraní Relations; Nicholas P. Cushner, Why Have You Come Here: The Jesuits and the First Colonial Evangelization of Native America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2006). 33 See footnote 23. 34 Andrés I. Prieto, “From the Devil’s Herb to Saint Thomas’ Gift: The Christianisation of Guaraní Sacred Plants in the Jesuit Reductions of Paraguay” in Medieval and Early Modern Devotional Objects in Global Perspective: Translations of the Sacred, Elizabeth Robertson and Jennifer Jahner eds. (New York: Palgrave MacMillan, 2010). 16 still remains mainly an oral language today35. This leaves us with only Jesuit contemporary accounts and modern works of anthropology. For decoding the Guaraní culture, the works of Cadogan and both Clastres are infinitely more valuable than the primary sources, as Jesuits both misunderstood and manipulated information. Because their writing was directed at certain policymakers and ecclesiastic elites, Jesuit accounts are barely trustworthy for direct historical purposes. Their value in this context is the insight that they provide into their mentality, their justification of their policies, and their interpretation of what was going on around them. Together, these four cultural elements reveal the level of cultural exchange that occurred in the Jesuit missions of Paraguay. By working together both explicitly and covertly, the Guaraní and the Jesuits managed to compromise on some important issues. Both sides managed to keep a fair degree of agency over the cultural elements that were most important to them─Christianity for the Jesuits and both the Guaraní language and the survival of the use of sacred herbs for the Guaraní. 35 Sara Delicia Villagra-Batoux, “The Guaraní Language – the Paraguayan Seal of Identity: A Path to Integration and Development”, Museum International 60, No. 3 (2008) 52. 17 Chapter 1 From Mohammed’s Paradise to the Christian Jesuit Republic: Colonial Paraguay Before the Jesuits While the monarchs of Europe were beginning to ponder the idea of a navigational route to the Indies, the Tupi-Guaraní tribal family were present in most of the east coast of South America, south of the Amazon. Whereas many Tupi tribes inhabited the areas just south of the Amazon, Guaraní peoples could be found as far north as the Tietê River, near modern São Paulo36. Their settlements spread down the three major rivers of the area, the Parana, Uruguay and Paraguay Rivers, into the modern republics of Argentina, Paraguay, and Uruguay. Separated from their cousins by the vast semi-arid Gran Chaco, Guaraní tribes also lived west of modern Paraguay, into modern Bolivia, on the fringe of the imposing Inca Empire37. Despite having a presence over such a vast area, the Tupi-Guaraní tribes did not present the same characteristics as the Inca. They did not have an administrative center or shared rulers, their territory was never defined, no collaborative labour or education institutions were established, and their class system was rudimentary38. Whereas the Inca Empire featured not only a ruling class but also a “noble” class charged with various duties such as tribute collecting and census taking─neither of which occurred on Guaraní territory─and a slave-like working class39, the Guaraní essentially lived in a three-tier class system. The teýy-ru was the head of the group, featuring between 10 and 60 traditional families, 36 See Appendix 1; fig 1. 37 Clastres, La terre sans mal, 7-8. 38 Justo Pastor Benítez, Formación social del Pueblo Paraguayo (Buenos Aires: Ediciones Nizza, 1967) 20. 39 Irene Silverblatt, Moon, Sun, and Witches: Gender Ideologies and Class in Inca and Colonial Peru (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1987) 15. 18 called the teýy. The teýy-ru had the responsibility of creating diplomatic ties, which was done through marriage, and growing the teýy. He shared his power with the shaman, who was the group’s spiritual leader. Everybody else in the teýy shared a similar position in assuring the functioning of the autonomous unit, which was an independent polity both economically and politically40. Unlike the Inca, there was no permanent network linking the different teýys and tribal groups. They therefore developed in different manners, leading to different dialects, attitudes and versions of similar myths important to the Guaraní spiritual worldview. The term “Guaraní” has become a blanket term to describe any native tribal unit that spoke a variation of the Guaraní language. Various nations in the region spoke different variations, but they could all communicate through Guaraní41. This does not mean that all Guaraní units knew of each other, let alone interacted, collaborated or organized in any way. Conflict occasionally broke out, which led to the formation of amundás─larger villages formed by the defensive collaboration of multiple teýys─as well as teko’as, which are formed by multiple amundás, and finally guarás, the largest form of organization formed by multiple teko’as. Instability grew alongside the size of the settlements as the ultimate loyalty always remained with the teýy, and these larger units were terminated once their goal was accomplished. Formation of these larger organizational structures could also be for celebration in addition to conflict42. Conflict within and outside the Guaraní linguistic family persisted well into the colonial era and was a constant source of concern for the Jesuit missions. The frequent 40 Sarreal, The Guaraní and Their Missions, 18-19. 41 Ruiz de Montoya, Spiritual Conquest 142. 42 Ibid 19. 19 working trips to the yerbales43 were under constant threat of attack, especially by the Montese and Mbaya peoples44. The Montese are a Paï Tavytera people, part of the Guaraní linguistic family, whereas the Mbayá are part of the Guaycurú, neighbours and distantly related traditional rivals of the Guaraní and part of the Guaycurú linguistic family. These conflicts led to a division of indigenous individuals into two subgroups in the mission era: Mission Indians and non-Mission Indians. Though the mission Indians are often generalized as “Guaraní” because of the mission language, this term did not necessarily apply to every indigenous individual on the mission. The European insistence on calling them all “Guaraní” and on dividing them based on their mission status erased a complex set of pre-existing power relations from pre-Colombian times45. As previously mentioned, the missions did not recruit tribes as much as they recruited individuals. The choice of mission life or non-mission life was an individual one. Mission populations could vary based on a sudden influx if the outside got more dangerous or a sudden exodus if the Guaraní did not feel they were being treated fairly. Though the Guaraní chose to be in the missions and generally found the advantages to outnumber the disadvantages, forms of everyday resistance─James C. Scott’s term for the little things that lower-class individuals could do to force change at the top46─such as this one assured that the balance of power never tipped so far to the side of the Jesuits that the Guaraní could be culturally assimilated. 43 See footnote 248 on p. 74. 44 Whigham, The Politics of River Trade 114. 45 That being said, a vast majority of the population on the missions belonged to one of the Guaraní peoples and the missions are historically accepted as the “Guaraní missions”. We will continue to use the term Guaraní for “Mission Indians” and specify when clarifications are needed. 46 Scott, Weapons of the Weak. 20 While Guaraní relationships with the first expeditions to travel inland to Paraguay were reportedly positive and friendly, it is probable that this was once again due to the European naming practices. The term “Guaraní” is usually found when the encounter was a positive one, whereas an account of a negative encounter would be more likely to feature terms like “Indios,” or “naturales” in the Spanish accounts and “sauvages” in the French ones. Encounters with the “Guaraní,” however, were characterized by friendly relationships, alliance building, and occasional one-sided provision of women. The first European to sail by the Río de la Plata estuary was Gonzalo Coelho in 1501, only one year after Pedro Álvares Cabral first sailed down the coast of Brazil47. Both these explorers travelled under the Portuguese flag, attempting to establish Portuguese dominance over the South Atlantic. While Spain was establishing its presence in the Caribbean, Portugal was ahead in the race to the original preferred destination, Asia. Unlike Spain’s route, Portugal navigated south, establishing trade ports along the coast of Africa before eventually rounding the Cape of Good Hope into the Indian Ocean. The revelation of a Western continent presented new possibilities, and Portuguese sailors were exploring the possibility of potentially reaching Asia by sailing around Cape Horn instead. When the cities of Goa and Malacca were conquered by Portugal in present day India and Malaysia in 1510 and 1511 respectively, the search for quicker access was amplified and Portugal increased its efforts. João de Lisboa explored 47 Domingo, Naissance 22. 21 sixty miles into what he called the “Prata” river in 1513-14 and falsely reported, upon landing in Portugal, having found a strait that led to the Pacific48. When this information made its way to Spain, the reaction was swift. An expedition led by Juan Díaz de Solís was sent in 1516 to travel up the river under the Spanish flag. It did not end well for Díaz de Solís, who was captured, killed, and, according to an unconfirmed and unlikely legend, eaten49. His encounter was later reported by Jesuit sources as being with the Charrúa people50, though it is geographically more likely that it was with the Guaraní51. Despite the undesirable outcome of the Díaz de Solís expedition, Spain found that the Río de la Plata was west of the boundary defined by the Treaty of Tordesillas in 1494, and therefore Spanish territory rather than Portuguese. As the potential mineral richness of the area and the fabled strait leading to Asia had yet to be discovered, a minor territorial squabble began. Both the Díaz de Solís and the Lisboa expeditions claimed that the Río de la Plata hid a rich mineral deposit, thus its “River of Silver” moniker. Meanwhile, the Spaniards were already in contact and establishing relations with the Guaraní. Upon its retreat, one of the ships from Díaz de Solís’ expedition shipwrecked somewhere in Southern Brazil. A small group survived, including Aleixo García, who would become known to some as the father of the Paraguayan nation52. They were taken in by the Guaraní and taught the language, the mythology, and the 48 João Capistrano de Abreu, Chapters of Brazil’s Colonial History 1500-1800 (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 1997) 28. 49 Modern anthropological research suggests that neither the Charrúa nor the Guaraní engaged in anthropophagy, though this is still debated. 50 The Charrúa people were related to the Guaycurú people, though they also had their own language. They were often in conflict with the Guaraní. 51 Domingo, Naissance 41. 52 García took a Guaraní woman and fathered the first Paraguayan mestizo child. García is considered the father of the Paraguayan nation as modern Paraguay is a distinct mestizo nation. 22 landscape53. There, García learned about the legendary Sierra de la Plata that apparently lay to the West. As the story goes, García convinced a Guaraní force to accompany him to Potosí, where he collected silver samples to send back to the rest of the survivors of Díaz de Solís’ expedition. García and his group were then attacked by rival Guaraní, where the explorer perished. Some historians doubt the historical validity of Aleixo García’s tale, though its relevance is not its validity but that it was believed by contemporary explorers and those for generations to come54. His story only added to the lure of the region, as Francisco Pizarro had yet to reach the Inca Empire and this was thus believed to be the best route to the Sierra de la Plata. For the only period in its history, Paraguay was thought to be rich in minerals. Spain also learned that they would need an alliance to conquer it55. Garcia’s tale spread back to Europe as well, and inspired Portugal to send another attempt56. As the Strait of Magellan had finally been found to the South, this expedition was sent inland to explore the river, find the mountain and bring back “400 slaves loaded down with silver”57. After leaving Cananéia58 in 1531, Martim Afonso de Sousa made it to the Río Iguazu before being shipwrecked and allegedly attacked by Carijós59, making the mission unsuccessful60. Before they could organize another 53 Domingo, Naissance 43. 54 Charles E. Nowell, “Aleixo Garcia and the White King” The Hispanic American Historical Review 26 (No. 4, 1946) 450. 55 Carmen Bertrand et Serge Gruzinski, Histoire du Nouveau Monde: Les métissages (Paris : Fayard 1993) 451. 56 Spain also tried again, though unofficially. Sebastian Cabot rerouted his trip to the Far East in order to explore the Río de la Plata in 1526. 57 Capistrano de Abreu, Chapters 32. 58 In the south of today’s São Paulo state. 59 Carijós are part of the Guaraní family. 60 Edith Portchat, Incormações históricas sobre São Paulo no século de sua fundação (São Paulo: Iluminuras Ltda, 1993 [1956]) 142. 23 expedition, word spread in early 1534 that Pizarro had secured the Inca Empire and Potosí under the Spanish flag61. Spain secured the Río de la Plata later that year. Don Pedro de Mendoza was made adelantado62 of the new Río de la Plata province63 and made responsible for colonizing it64. His expedition arrived in 1536-7, composed of 1300 men and about a hundred horses, and founded a temporary settlement near present-day Buenos Aires65. He did not have much difficulty recruiting men, as Garcia’s story still inspired dreams of wealth throughout Europe, and news was spreading of Pizarro’s Inca treasure. Mendoza was not the most competent of governors–he had been infected with syphilis in Europe and spent half his time bed-ridden─and the expedition suffered from both famine and native attacks66. As food was an issue, the men organized various expeditions to search for allies and riches. After adelantado Mendoza returned home to die in 1537, his successor Juan de Ayolas organized a trip up the Paraguay River past the Gran Chaco to search for Potosí. There, they encountered the Payaguá people67, who killed all 170 members of the expedition, including the newly minted governor68. Another expedition took place near the confluence of the Paraguay and Paraná Rivers, this time meeting the friendly Guaraní, forging a lasting alliance with them and solidifying it with the establishment of a permanent settlement named Nuestra Señora Santa Maria de la 61 Domingo, Naissance 45. 62 A position adjacent to governorship. 63 At the time New Andalusia. 64 This expedition, though technically the Mendoza expedition, is occasionally known as the Irala expedition, as future governor Martínez de Irala was on this trip and had a larger role in shaping the area than his predecessors Mendoza and Juan de Ayolas, both of whom died before completing their first year in office. 65 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations 19. 66 Domingo, Naissance 67, 80. 67 One of the Guaycurú groups that settled the Chaco, known for its hostility to Europeans. 68 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations 19. 24 Asunción, or simply Asunción, on the 15th of August 1537, the Feast Day of the Assumption of Mary. The Bay of Asunción presented significant geographic and demographic strategic advantages: its cliffs offered excellent vantage points for watching the river and made the fort relatively easy to defend, the land was considered fertile, and the local Guaraní were eager to engage in military and demographic alliances69. Members of the expeditions reported that the Guaraní fed them as much as they desired, and that they were offered two women per soldier. Though it may seem that the women were simply an added perk for the Europeans, they were in reality an important part of the alliance. The expedition was meant as a colonization mission to establish a permanent presence in the Río de la Plata, and it had already lost more men then it could afford in the ill-fated Ayolas mission and with the ongoing famine in Buenos Aires. The women offered a sense of stability as well as a medium-term repopulation strategy70. For the Guaraní, their behaviour and desire for an alliance likely indicated the presence of a threat nearby, either in the form of rival indigenous peoples or in the form of Portuguese expeditions seeking slaves. Nevertheless, the Guaraní began calling the Spaniards tovayá, meaning brothers-in-law71. In 1538, a Royal Decree arrived announcing the death of Pedro de Mendoza and dictating that, under any circumstances in which the province was without a governor, the Spanish population could elect their own leader. This Decree was effective indefinitely, and was eventually repealed in the mid eighteenth century after the Revolt 69 Domingo, Naissance 92. 70 Ibid 93. 71 Ibid. 25 of the Comuneros72. It proved extremely important in reaffirming the autonomous feeling that was prevalent in the Province, which had a tendency to ignore Royal or Ecclesiastic orders more frequently than other Spanish-American provinces73. When it became clear that Juan de Ayolas was not returning from his Potosí expedition, Domingo Martínez de Irala was the first man elected to be governor of New Andalusia; he had taken it upon himself to lead the settlements, which were at that time essentially limited to Buenos Aires and Asunción, in the former governor’s prolonged absence. Buenos Aires would soon be wiped out of the equation: one of Irala’s first acts as governor was to order the evacuation of the port city to Asunción. Famine and hostile attacks had a significant effect on the Spanish population in the Río de la Plata province and Irala believed that maintaining a presence in Buenos Aires meant leaving the European population alone there to die. He also justified the evacuation by stating that the alliance with the Guaraní was too important for them to lose and that they needed to at least be able to provide enough support to help the Guaraní in their wars74. Afraid that certain residents of Buenos Aires would revolt─their living situations had improved as they had successfully started farming the land and some were concerned that abandoning the port would mean communications issues with Spain─Irala burned down the settlement, leaving behind instructions on how to find Asunción for the next Spanish ships. Without the alliance with the Guaraní, Spanish presence in the Río de la Plata would not have been sustainable. In addition to the lack of nutrition, multiple Guaycurú 72 See page 33. 73 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 21. 74 Ibid 107. 26 groups in the nearby Gran Chaco constantly threatened Asunción. In 1542, a large army was formed with two hundred Spaniards and a large numbe of Guaraní to go into the Gran Chaco. They were not able to permanently subdue their enemies, but the endeavour was successful in that the two allies worked very well together and developed trust in each other75. This campaign was led by Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca, newly appointed governor by the King earlier that year. The arrival of Cabeza de Vaca caused great concern among the settlers, specifically with Irala, who found himself stripped of his governorship. Cabeza de Vaca was a veteran conquistador of the famed Narváez expedition, which explored Florida and the Mississippi. That expedition was a disaster; Cabeza de Vaca was blown to Texas by a hurricane, where he reported being enslaved by natives76. His distrust in Indigenous populations, which stemmed from his experience in North America, did not seem to be adaptable to a colony that heavily depended on peaceful relations with the Guaraní77. The Cabeza de Vaca expedition revitalized the colony, bringing with it 600 Europeans78. However, it also promised change. Cabeza de Vaca was shocked by the perceived anarchy in Asunción, characterized mainly by the polygamy he witnessed. Cabeza de Vaca also sought to repopulate Buenos Aires, as he believed Irala had ordered its evacuation in order to avoid communications with Spain, which would allow lawlessness in Asunción79. Cabeza de Vaca’s main goal, however, was to find some kind 75 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations 21. 76 Mariah Wade, “Go-between: The Roles of Native American Women and Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca in Southern Texas in the 16th Century” The Journal of American Folklore 112 (No. 445, 1999) 334. Cabeza de Vaca may have just been made to work the same jobs as women, which he equated to slavery. 77 All accounts indicate that this concern was unfounded and Cabeza de Vaca practiced great tact in his dealings with the Guaraní. 78 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations 20. 79 Domingo, Naissance 132. 27 of mineral richness in the province to lift it from poverty and enrich himself. By 1544, Asunción was seven years old and none of the Río de la Plata’s alleged wealth had been discovered. Cabeza de Vaca took an army of Spaniards and Guaraní to the edge of the Inca Empire, looking to finally confirm the settlement’s proximity to wealth. The majority of settlers were not in favour of crossing hostile territory and neither were the Guaraní. Conditions were harsh and attacks frequent. Despite this, Cabeza de Vaca refused to abandon the expedition, losing the trust and confidence of his forces80. A mutiny occurred and the group headed back to Asunción, where Cabeza de Vaca was swiftly arrested by a group led by Felipe de Caceres, a future governor. He was imprisoned locally for nearly a year before being sent back to Spain in chains, where he was eventually exonerated81. The governorship was returned to Irala the following day. The autonomous mentality showcased by Irala and his men is an important one to keep in mind, as complex political relations in Paraguay for the rest of the colonial period operated alongside this same mindset82. The ideological opposition between Cabeza de Vaca and Irala was the first of a long line of conflicts between settlers and the Crown. This power structure was further complicated with the creation of the Viceroyalty of Peru in 1542. Whereas the Governorate of New Andalusia─as it was called until that year─reported directly to the Council of the Indies─the Crown’s main administrative arm in Sevilla─the new Governorate of the Río de la Plata reported to the Viceroy in Peru, who then reported to the Council. These many layers complicated political power as the settlers themselves 80 Ibid 142. 81 After his two adventures in the Americas, however, Cabeza de Vaca never returned. 82 This is partially due to the low immigration rate to Paraguay and the concentration of power among descendants of Irala’s men. 28 were often found in disagreement. During Irala’s second mandate, there was tension between Buenos Aires and Asunción, as the latter depended on their alliance with the Guaraní and the former was mainly settled with newcomers from the Cabeza de Vaca expedition who were attempting to farm the land and needed Indigenous workers. In this situation, the Governor was against the use of Indigenous workers, but the Viceroy was in favour of the Porteños83. The Council of the Indies could agree with the Viceroy, but if the King was on the Governor’s side, administrative action could be complicated and delayed. Letters frequently had to be sent between the Spanish capital84, Sevilla, Lima, Asunción, and Buenos Aires, which meant that issues could take years to be resolved. While no Spanish-American outpost dealt directly with the Crown without an intermediary, the province of Paraguay generally had to go through more intermediaries than normal. This royal apathy–due to lack of economic opportunities–led to greater autonomy for the governor, and eventually to a greater tug of war for power over Asunción between Lima and Buenos Aires, as Buenos Aires became the seat of the Viceroyalty of the Río de la Plata. Adding more layers to the complex political onion that was colonial Río de la Plata were the policies of the various ecclesiastical actors. The Church had multiple stakeholders and relied almost entirely on orders to spread the faith in the Americas. Once again, economic importance also played a role: as there is such a strong connection between the Crown and the Vatican, areas of economic or strategic importance to the Crown were watched more closely. 83 Residents of Buenos Aires. 84 Madrid, Toledo, or Valladolid, depending on the era. 29 In the Río de la Plata, two Orders established themselves as the main Church presence: the Society of Jesus─or Jesuits─and the Order of Friars Minor─or Franciscan Order. The Franciscans were the more established ecclesiastics, founded centuries before the Jesuits. While they are well known for their missionary work in the northern reaches of the Spanish-American Empire, their near monopoly only lasted a few decades in the Río de la Plata. It was a Franciscan priest─Father Bernardo de Arementa─whose feud with Cabeza de Vaca played a large role in the legitimacy of his expulsion85. Having previously enjoyed a near monopoly on education, they resented the Jesuits’ arrival. Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, they were mainly found in and around Asunción, running the schools and monasteries as well as the Diocese of Asunción86. They were part of early settlement efforts, so they felt a close kinship with the settlers, leading them to often rule in favour of settlers in affairs involving the Guaraní87. The Jesuits, on the other hand, were a young Order formed in 1540. They sought to reinvent the missionary practice and guide their members to take a softer approach avoiding violence as much as possible. The Jesuit philosophy was to earn trust and to covert using only words. A product of its time, the Society of Jesus integrated sixteenth Century humanist thought into the Catholic Church, causing tension with more traditional conservative Orders. The Crown and the Church both had internal struggles for power, but this does not mean that these were limited to internal structures. It is impossible to define the 85 Marion A. Habig, “The Franciscan Provinces of South America,” The Americas 2 (No.4, 1946) 462. 86 At the time named Diocese of Paraguay until the country was granted a second diocese in 1929. 87 López, Comuñeros 57. 30 relation between the “Crown,” the “Church,” and the “settlers,” because their subgroups had varying dynamics with each other. A clear example of these diverging relations is the undefinable relationship between the “Crown” and the “Church”. Throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries, the Asunción political elite consistently protested the Jesuit presence in the area. The local economy was based on agriculture with labour intensive cash crops tobacco, sugar, cotton, and yerba mate, as well as crops for local subsistence such as manioc, maize, sweet potatoes, beans, peanuts and pumpkins. There was not enough money to be made in these crops─at least not with the limited shipping routes available to them─for imported slaves to be affordable. Domestic labour institutions like the encomienda─a system of forced indigenous labour in which a settler would be granted the labour of a group of Indigenous people in exchange for assuring their evangelization─were therefore viewed as necessary to the prospering of Asunción. To the Asunción political elite and to the settlers, the Jesuit missions represented a large pool of Guaraní workers who were no longer accessible, up to over 140,000 in the 1730s88. The relationship becomes even worse when the Jesuits got involved in the economy. Notorious for their economic autonomy, the missions themselves had a significant agricultural output and flooded the market with crops, most notably yerba mate, driving down the price that the Asunción elites and the settlers could charge. In this political quagmire, certain actors paired up better than others. Generally speaking, the Governors and local administrators in Paraguay─the Asunción political elite─had excellent relations with their Bishops. They also had a great rapport with those who ran their schools, usually the Franciscans. However, they had issues with the 88 Sarreal, The Guaraní and Their Missions 1. 31 Jesuits, mainly because the Bishops struggled with the Jesuits. These problems transcended borders and were common in most areas where Jesuits interacted with Bishops89. Meanwhile, the Jesuits had excellent relations with the Crown proper─the King and his Royal advisors. Madrid held the Jesuits in high regard because the Crown sought a presence on the frontier and sought the conversion of the Guaraní, two elements that the Jesuits did better than any others. Madrid went as far as granting arms to a Guaraní militia, the only indigenous militia in the Spanish American Empire, when the Portuguese attempted to push the boundaries of Brazil west in the 1630s. Madrid therefore needed the Jesuit presence in the area. As shown in the preceding pages, much of the conflict in colonial Paraguay revolved around the presence of the Jesuits and their missions. Though the missions were in place from 1609 to 1767, three main periods of conflict affected the area: the bandeirante raids from 1628 to 1641, the Revolt of the Comuneros from 1721 to 1735, and the Guaraní War of 1756, which followed the 1750 Treaty of Madrid. A basic understanding of the three conflicts is essential to the study of political culture on the missions, as it provides the background for so many of the political decisions taken by many of the key actors. By the turn of the seventeenth century, Paraguay had been populated with much larger numbers of European descendants. Some arrived via the immigration route, but most of them were the result of the large amount of sexual activity taking place in Paraguay. Buenos Aires was no longer the only area to use the encomienda system; Paraguay had also gotten involved with larger scale farming and needed indigenous 89 William V Bangert SJ, A History of the Society of Jesus, 2nd Edition (St. Louis: Institute of Jesuit Sources, 1986[1971]) 170. 32 workers for the system to prosper. The encomienda is one of the main reasons the Jesuits did not struggle in convincing large amounts of Guaraní leaders to settle their families in the missions. The main Guaraní motivation was security: they saw the landscape changing and felt that association with the Jesuits was best. This meant a different way of confirming the alliance, of course, but the understanding was that the missions were legally owned by the Guaraní, as was the land upon which they were built90. In exchange, the Guaraní would convert to Catholicism, which was an easy thing to claim, but more complex in practice91. The Jesuits were not interested in forming nominal Christians, they wanted to truly educate the Guaraní in biblical matters and change their worldview. The Jesuits were therefore in charge of managing and protecting the enterprise. As the Guaraní were not used to living in such large groups, missionaries were needed to assure that supplies lasted, as the concept of “saving” was not one with which the Guaraní were familiar92. The first threats to the safety of the missions were the bandeirantes who, from 1628 to 1641, terrorized the missions with constant slave raids93. In all, the missions lost about 60,000 Guaraní to these raids and three missions were destroyed. An additional two missions had to be moved to the other side of the River in order to get away from the threat94. During this period, a Guaraní militia was formed and armed by the Jesuits, without immediate permission from the Crown. The Jesuits requested permission that 90 Julia J.S. Sarreal, Globalization and the Guaraní: From Missions to Modernization in the Eighteenth Century (Ph.D. Dissertation, Harvard University, 2009) 173. 91 See chapter 2 for further detail on the topic. 92 Cushner, Why Have You Come Here? 106. 93 Maurice Ezran, Une colonisation douce: les missions du Paraguay (Paris : Éditions L’Harmattan, 1989) 85-88. 94 Ibid 31. 33 arms be granted, but the complex bureaucracy did not accept the demand before 164595. Despite this, the Guaraní militia fought, technically under the Spanish flag, to preserve the missions and to protect their territorial integrity, as well as to avoid slavery. Even after 1641, arms were stored in the missions and the Guaraní militia’s existence continued. It was useful to Spain on a few occasions during and after the missionary period96, though it complicated power structures. As can be expected, a Guaraní militia loyal to the Jesuits in the Paraguayan missions greatly pleased the King, but greatly concerned elites and settlers in Asunción. The Revolt of the Comuneros, on the other hand, was a local political battle over control of the Governorate in Asunción. Settlers and elites felt that the Jesuits had the governor’s favour and were upset over the mission’s large workforce producing significant quantities of agricultural product, which drove down their own prices. While the revolts did not directly implicate the Jesuits or the Guaraní, they were a combined rural and urban effort to pressure the Crown into appointing a governor that had the power to reign them in and assert control for Asunción over the missions. Unlike the similarly named Revolt of the Comuneros that took place in New Granada in the 1780s, this revolt had virtually no undertones of independentism. In the aftermath of the 1750 Treaty of Madrid, the Guaraní fought for their land again in the Guaraní War, this time against a combined Portuguese and Spanish force, the Spanish having signed over the land in the Treaty without consulting the Guaraní97. This was not a Jesuit initiative, though the Jesuit failure to control the Guaraní led to the 95 López, Comuñeros 42. 96 Sarreal, Globalization and the Guaraní 202. 97 Maurice Whitehead, “From Expulsion to Restoration: The Jesuits in Crisis, 1759-1814” Studies: An Irish Quarterly Review 103 (No. 412, 2014/15) 450. 34 expulsion of the Jesuits from Portuguese territories in 1759, French ones in 1764 and Spanish ones in 1767. For the Jesuits and the Guaraní, this was a question of the Guaraní relationship with the Crown, as it had been agreed that mission territory belonged to the Guaraní and was therefore not Spain’s to sign over. However, this did not happen long after the Revolt of the Comuneros, which had succeeded in diminishing Jesuit favour in Europe. Having explored the complexities of internal and external power relations in colonial Paraguay, it becomes rather obvious that the simplistic polar European-Guaraní typology is a flawed premise when approaching Paraguayan power relations. From its very beginnings, the region was settled with an autonomous mindset: far from the metropole, the original settlers were left to fend for themselves. The power structures that did exist never commanded the levels of respect that they commanded elsewhere. In addition, the network of power relations was complex and filled with various actors. To start, the Europeans were themselves split into three groups, Crown, Church and settlers, which were all additionally subdivided with a wide variety of relations. Various factors influence power relations within European circles: competition among religious orders, the region’s poorly defined border, and the region’s agrarian nature all caused fissures in the polarizing typology. Then, the analysis of power relations has to take into consideration Guaraní agency and the expression of Guaraní political power through movements of population and through their taking up arms. There is no proper answer when one asks where the power lay in colonial Paraguay, because in this frontier of the Spanish American empire, no one can truly be seen to have had “control” over the land and its inhabitants. That should not be an unsatisfactory answer, though, as the real value is not in figuring out who had power, but 35 in understanding the plurality of groups that attempted to fill the void and the dynamics between them. 36 Chapter 2 Uneven Syncretism: The Coming Together of Guaraní and Christian Worldviews in the Early Missionary Period The primary goal of the Jesuit missions was the evangelization of the Guaraní. A commonly held belief among Europeans was that the Indigenous people first became good Christians, and that civilization came as a natural following step. From the Jesuit perspective, this meant that religion was their priority and that all other elements could potentially be sacrificed or temporarily put aside if it meant a clearer path towards evangelization. It also led to the Jesuits going great lengths to try to understand the Guaraní worldview, in an attempt to present Catholicism in a way that they could understand. On the Guaraní side, however, this emphasis signified that their spiritual world was in danger if they could not find ways of integrating it into the Christian world. Of course, this focus on religion did not mean that the Jesuits did not put the Guaraní to work as well. With three or four Jesuits often in charge of missions of over one thousand, a proper food source needed to be developed and cultivated locally98. Mission Guaraní each had their own jobs. For most, that meant an agricultural task or labour in the realm of animal husbandry to assure the mission’s subsistence. At their peak in 1732, the thirty missions combined for a population of 141,18299. Sometimes overlooked is that the Jesuits did not, technically or implicitly, own the Guaraní. In fact, they did not even own the missions100, or what was produced in them, as the Jesuits had 98 Ganson, Guaraní Under Spanish Rule, 62. 99 Sarreal, The Guaraní and Their Missions, 1. 100 Guaraní leaders did not only own the missions, but as per Sarreal (Globalization and the Guaraní 27) they were instrumental in many important practices, such as the choosing of mission locations. 37 a vow of poverty101. The importance of this can of course be debated, as the Guaraní did not have a conception of ownership, having traditionally lived in a land of plenty and never having struggled with famine or mass societal organization102. That debate is not the goal of this study. Instead, we are going to aim for an exploration of the religious and cultural considerations between two groups which did not necessarily seem like a perfect match. Evangelization was complicated by the misinterpretation of the Guaraní pantheon, by some strategic mistakes and by differences in worldviews. Meanwhile, the Guaraní were able to assure the survival of their worldview and ease their transition to Christianity through two of their most important cultural elements: language and art. One of the most common tactics used when it comes to evangelization has traditionally been to associate the Christian God with the God at the top of the target religion’s pantheon. This strategy did not always work. From their arrival in the province of Paraguay, the Jesuits took two different routes: either they denied that the Guaraní had a deistic religion, or they began associating the Christian God with the Guaraní God of Thunder, Tupã103. Though many religions revere their God of Thunder, the Guaraní worldview was not necessarily one of them104. While Tupã was a creator God, He was not always a benevolent God. Hélène Clastres’ seminal study La Terre sans mal finds that Tupã was a destroyer God and that, in some versions of the myth, He had very little to do with the Creation of the Earth105. He inspired awe and respect, but 101 Sarreal, Globalization and the Guaraní, 119. 102 Sarreal, The Guaraní and Their Missions 70. 103 Judith Shapiro, “From Tupã to the Land without Evil: The Christianization of Tupi-Guaraní Cosmology” American Ethnologist 14 (No. 1, 1987) 126. Louis Necker claims that this association was one originally made by the Franciscans in the Sixteenth century. Louis Necker, Indiens Guaraní et Chamanes Franciscains : Les premières réductions du Paraguay (Paris: Éditions Anthropos, 1979) ) 87. 104 Some Guaraní groups grant Tupã more importance than others. 105 Clastes, Terre sans mal 33. Clastres does, however, grant Tupã a greater importance than Ñamandú. 38 the Guaraní are not reported to have prayed to Him106. Tupã is also not the main Guaraní god in most of their recorded accounts; that title would belong to Ñamandú. Tupã held many important roles: in addition to being a Creator God and the God of Thunder, He was mainly known as the God responsible for rain. Even with all those roles, He was not responsible for the most important part of the Guaraní worldview: the language. Ñamandú was the God responsible for language, alongside other various creations. While most religions─including Christianity─feature a creation myth beginning with the planet, the Guaraní creation myth begins with the all-important “Creation of Human Language”107. This emphasis on the history of the language─which partially explains the Guaraní’s defense of its use and their keen attention on passing it down, an aspect that will be further explored in chapter four─places Ñamandú at the top of the Guaraní mythological hierarchy, if one even exists108. Ñamandú was also the God to whom the Guaraní prayed and was sometimes considered the “God of the Rising Sun”109. The choice was made by the Jesuits to attempt to syncretize Tupã and the Christian God110. This was in all probability due to the Guaraní reaction─looking up to the sky─every time Tupã was mentioned. Considering His main duty was to create rain and thunder, the reactions seem easily explained. European ignorance over the importance of language was also integral in the overlooking of Ñamandú. That being 106 Shapiro, Christianization 129. 107 Full text in Appendix 2. Taken from Rubén Bareiro Saguier, “El fundamento del lenguaje humano” Litoral 195/196 (1992) p.253-255. 108 Modern accounts tend to place Ñamandú at the top of this hierarchy, though no Guaraní documents on this topic exist from the colonial era, making it difficult to confirm if this hierarchy truly existed of if it was born from interactions with Christianity. 109 An interesting opposition with Tupã, who is sometimes considered the “God of the Setting Sun”. Ñamandú gives and Tupã takes away. Jehan Albert Vellard, “Textes Mbwihá recueillis au Paraguay” Journal de la Société des américanistes 29 (No. 2, 1937), p. 373. 110 Shapiro, From Tupã to the Land without Evil 129. 39 said, it is difficult to gain a trustworthy account of the Guaraní mythology. The question of recorded accounts is particularly interesting here. Modern anthropologists have only begun collecting these accounts since the 1930s and still find that the structures and dominant gods vary based on the region where the account was being taken. Taking this into consideration, it is possible to see how the accounts would have varied in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, especially considering the Guaraní language was solely oral and they only rarely had political organization beyond the teýy level. It would have been an impressive feat if the Jesuits had found themselves able to accurately map out the general baselines of the Guaraní worldview. These issues in understanding the Guaraní worldview point to a more complicated question: how can a syncretic religion be formed out of two worldviews that do not use the same definition of “religion”? To the Guaraní, the conception of a Christian God was as difficult to imagine as that of a Christian people─or of Europe as a whole. They tended to keep an open mind─after all, the Jesuits themselves were proof that a Christian people existed; they had to have come from somewhere─but they did not fully understand many of the rituals behind the practice of Christianity. One particularly interesting anecdote from the memoirs of Antonio Ruiz de Montoya tells of terrified Guaraní whenever the Jesuits attempted to baptize them111. They saw it as a sign of death, as Jesuits tended to baptize the ill and dying first in order to sneak them into heaven. To the Guaraní, they must have seen large numbers dying after this strange ritual and decided they wanted no part of it. The Jesuits finally began eliminating the 111 Ruiz de Montoya, The Spiritual Conquest 53-54. 40 stigma by expanding the baptism and confession rituals to include dance, and, occasionally, feather work112. Despite the early struggles, the Jesuits were able to find a way to break into Guaraní culture: music. Perhaps because of the sacred meaning of chant in their own culture, the Guaraní responded very well to hymns and to the use of music. In fact, throughout the eighteenth century, the Paraguayan missions earned a reputation in Europe as a location where some of the finest European instruments were made113. Using music as an entrance point, the Jesuits were able to differentiate themselves from other settlers by setting up missions with emphasis on culture and arts, not just on agriculture and work. Within the missions, groups of specialized artisans appeared under the apprenticeship of specialized Jesuits, and a rich culture of painting, instrument making, sculpting, carving, and carpentry was developed. The tools used for this artistic production were actually often products of local Guaraní ironsmiths. The Jesuits therefore developed a soft approach to evangelization, which was needed on an asymmetric religious playing field. Unlike many other American pre- Columbian societies like the Inca, the Maya and the Aztecs, the Guaraní did not place much value in honouring the Gods by reproducing them, an ironic twist considering how good they were at reproducing things. Instead, the Guaraní were interested in honouring and perfecting the results of the Gods work. One of the key myths in the Guaraní worldview is the Twins’ myth, where cultural heroes, known simply as “the Twins”114, who must prove their divine origins by completing or perfecting the work of the Creator 112 Bailey, Art on the Jesuit Missions 153. 113 Piotr Nawrot, “Teaching of Music and the Celebration of Liturgical Events in the Jesuit Reductions” Anthropos 99, Vol 1 (2004) 76. 114 For more details about the Twins myth, see Chapter 4. 41 and by passing along divine information to human culture115. Therefore, instead of producing artefacts featuring the Gods themselves, they reproduced natural geometric patterns, plants, and animals. The Guaraní also responded well to these artistic religious activities because, for them, it did not necessarily matter what they were creating or which words they were singing. The content mattered very little next to the act. Ñamandú was a Creator God. Therefore, the artistic acts of painting, sculpting, carving, weaving, instrument making, building, and singing acted as a way to “be at one with their Creator”116. The act of Creating was a spiritual exercise for the Guaraní, meaning that by painting Catholic icons, sculpting saints or singing psalms in the missions, the Guaraní and the Jesuits were appeasing both spiritual worldviews concurrently. To the Jesuits, the conversion was working because the Guaraní were not reproducing Tupã. To the Guaraní, they were able to cooperate with the foreigners and keep them on their side while still feeling close to their cultural heritage and spiritual beliefs. What shocked many of the Jesuits was the proficiency and skill of the Guaraní. They took to the arts very well and quickly gained a reputation for being experts in artistic reproduction. Artisans all over Europe praised the items that were being sent from the missions, especially the musical instruments117. Despite this talent, no evidence has been discovered of a Guaraní figural artistic tradition in the styles of art practiced by Europeans before the encounter118. The Jesuits were all skilled craftsmen specialized in a 115 Prieto, Devil’s Herb 215. 116 Christine Ballengee Morris et al., “Decolonization, Art Education, and One Guaraní Nation of Brazil” Studies in Art Education 41 (No. 2, 2000) 107. 117 Nawrot, Teaching of Music 76. 118 Bailey, Art on the Jesuit Missions 144. 42 specific trade119; Guaraní men and women would simply learn by copying what they did, often to perfection. Contemporaries came to the conclusion that this talent had to be innate and stopped trying to explain it. In a way, this lack of an iconographic tradition facilitated the enterprise because, unlike in many other missions in the Americas or around the world, the Christian iconography did not clash with artistic depictions of local deities. It also signified that the Guaraní artisans were not supervised as much as other groups because there was no suspicion that they were integrating their own deities into their work; this was a mistake and an oversimplification from the Jesuits. Just because there was no iconographic tradition did not mean that the Guaraní could not integrate their own worldviews into their work through different means. One specific area in which Guaraní art baffled Europeans was sculpture. The sculptures being produced out of the missions were so unlike anything else from the era that art historians have taken to calling it its own style: Hispano-Guaraní Baroque120. This style, loyal to the collective nature of the missions, is generally notable for the lack of its artist’s signature121. The Guaraní skill with native hardwood was such that sculptures of Jesus frequently found themselves with indigenous facial features. In addition, Hispano-Guaraní Baroque sculptures often find themselves with patterns on them that replicate either traditional Guaraní basketry, ceramics or body-painting patterns122. 119 Maxime Haubert, Des Indiens et des Jésuites du Paraguay au Temps des Missions (Paris : Hachette, 1967) 203. 120 Bailey, Art of Colonial Latin America 257. 121 Josefina Pla, “Le baroque hispano-guaraní,” Europe 48 (No. 494, 1970) 143. 122 Bailey, Art of Colonial Latin America 257. 43 Due to the nature of the missions, most of what was produced was of course used for religious purposes. The instrument makers made instruments to be used for songs of praise, the carpenters built altars, the sculptors created icons, and the carvers designed church interiors. Painters and other artisans decorated icons and churches and adorned them with gold and other decorations. Upon further inspection, the decoration─or ornamentation─produced in the Guaraní missions was clearly distinct from similar icons made in Europe or elsewhere123. The Jesuits, stuck in their European mindset of iconographic religions, appear to have completely missed the spiritual interpretation that was taking place right in front of their eyes. The Guaraní ornamentation process included strong floral, feather and faunal motifs in the clothing of saints, in the ornamental windows, in the gates to the missions, and anywhere else they were tasked to work124. In order to insert their culture and their spiritual mythology, Guaraní artists did not need to physically reproduce their gods and spirits because in their pre-Columbian traditions, gods and spirits had multiple incarnations and were constantly in a state of change125. Instead, the Guaraní used the patterns and motifs as well as colours to honour their mythology. The exact ways in which they did so can only be speculated upon, though a recent study of the Chamacoco─or Ishir─peoples can likely offer some perspective in how these techniques were used. The Chamacoco peoples were divided in two areas: some lived near the Paraguay River and others in the Gran Chaco, near the Bolivian border in the Paraguayan north-west. They were thought to be hostile until the 123 Bailey, Art on the Jesuit Missions 164. 124 Ibid 172. 125 Ibid. 44 1970s, but are now somewhat integrated into Paraguayan society. Though linguistically different, some Guaraní linguistic elements had crossed over into Chamacoco by the time of contact. Some Guaraní mythological elements are present in their own mythology, which suggests that the two cultures were in constant contact probably back to pre-Columbian times. Like many Guaraní tribes, the Chamacoco practiced body painting. This is a tradition that died out when Jesuits imposed clothing. If the Guaraní reasoning for corporal painting was at all like the Chamacoco, however, it would not have mattered that much. The Chamacoco interpret colours as a gift from the Gods and use their bodies as a canvas126. Colours open up new spiritual opportunities that were beyond their reach and mark different moments in their cultural history127. If this can be transferred to the Guaraní, the use of colours interpreted in the context of the missions may simply be a transition of their usage from a bodily canvas to an architectural one. Instead of a corporal canvas, the Jesuits were presenting large altars–which Guaraní painters could decorate in the colours they pleased–that were designed to be worshipped. Even in cases where colours may have been limited, the new ones could be taken by the Guaraní as a “new cultural moment” for them. Guaraní tribes also used art as a way to be at one with nature. Different peoples had different ways of doing this. Some groups used feather work in their clothing, headdresses, and other various accessories; others were renowned for their use of fruit in accessories like necklaces. A recent study on Guaraní ceramics in Southern Brazil found 126 Ticio Escobar, The Curse of Nemur: In Search of the Art, Myth and Rithual of the Ishir (Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press, 2007) 66. 127 Ibid, 76-77. 45 that the Guaraní not only tried to reproduce natural geometric patterns, but attempted to perfect them by innovating new techniques128. This use of art could also be reproduced and integrated into Catholic art. The Guaraní did not stop having worldview when they converted to Christianity, they simply adapted it to the new requirements. The adoration of one religion did not impede them having the Guaraní worldview. The artistic syncretism between Christianity and the Guaraní worldview therefore greatly profited from the fact that the two did not clash. Not only did the Guaraní worldview depend much more on natural patterns, it also depended on spoken word, music, and dance much more than it did on icons and theology. On the other hand, Christianity features very little dance and does not have a fixed set of design patterns. The only element that was truly shared by the worldviews was the importance of the spoken word. This was more pronounced in the Guaraní worldview because of their previously mentioned genesis story: so important are words and music that a sacred chant is performed before the Earth itself is even created. In the race for linguistic supremacy, a large part of the question was to be resolved by the language spoken on the missions. For a variety of reasons that will be examined in the following chapter, Spanish was rarely spoken on the missions. The Jesuits quickly learned the language and attempted to write down Guaraní grammars. To a people whose worldview was so tightly attached to its language, the use of Guaraní was assurance that these Europeans were not there to destroy their culture and were interested in working with them. Although it may not seem like syncretism at first glance, the fact that the Guaraní language─this language that was created before the 128 Gislene Monticelli, “The sky is the limit: how to exceed the strict rules of the Guaraní ceramics,”Ciências Humanas 2 (No. 1, 2007) 111. 46 Earth and humanity─was preaching Christian gospel, can be considered to be a blending of the two worldviews. Once again, the content of words did not matter as much to the Guaraní as the fact that they were using the language129. The content of masses did not upset the Guaraní because they had no cultural equivalent to this. Spiritual advice could be sought from a shaman, but this was an individual act, not a collective cult. The collective nature of mass also lent itself well to the Guaraní value of togetherness, as well as the collective nature of labour and economic activities performed for the mission’s survival. Within the teýy, most activities were performed together and the sense of community was extremely strong. Seeing that the Jesuits performed what mattered the most to them in a communal setting would have been consistent with Guaraní values and helped them see the value in such an exercise. Like most of the transcultural elements between the two worldviews, the Guaraní language was not intended to be one by the Jesuits. As previously elaborated, its use was a calculated strategy. Again, though, the Jesuits’ lack of understanding of the basic principles of the Guaraní worldview resulted in the Guaraní managing to preserve some very important cultural traits. This is not only observable in language; the linear Jesuit view of iconographic religion blinded them to a possible reinterpretation of European or Christian material through the Guaraní worldview. The Guaraní often attributed their own meanings to Christian idols, items or patterns, sometime by association and other times by addition. 129 Further elaborated in Chapter 3. 47 A strong example of this type of reinterpretation is the introduction of Tenerife lace. Characterised by its inter-woven circular patterns, the lace was renamed “Ñandutí” when it was introduced to the missions. “Ñandutí” is the Guaraní word for “spider-web,” which is how the Guaraní chose to approach Tenerife lace. The spider web has a special place in Guaraní mythology, as it is a pattern attached to it through various legends. The most common legend of Ñandutí features competition between suitors for a young girl130. Filled with guilt after killing his rival in the forest, one of the young boys confesses to his mother, who makes her way into the forest and finds the body. Keeping her distance, she observes a spider creating a shroud-like layer of webbing. Copying the arachnid’s patterns, she recreates the design and creates Ñandutí. Ñandutí is therefore associated with funeral rites and with honouring the dead, something the Jesuits did not realize when they first made the introduction. The Guaraní therefore simply reinterpreted the lace by association. The Guaraní did not stick to embroidery with Ñandutí, they also transplanted the spider web design into other media: it is possible to find icons of the Virgin Mary wearing a dress with a Ñandutí-pattern on the border, to give but one example131. This was what reinterpretation by addition looked like in the Guaraní missions. Adding to this complementarity of the two worldviews was the pre-encounter Guaraní custom of body-painting. The main expressions of pre-Columbian Guaraní art were body painting, feather work, basketry and ceramics. Their artwork, as explained by G.A. Bailey132, was not only aniconic but also anti-mimetic, meaning they did not seek 130 Annick Sanjurjo. Ñandutí: Lace of Paraguay (Austin: Southern Cross Press, 2015) 88. 131 See Apprendix 1, Fig. 3. 132 Bailey, Art on the Jesuit Missions 149 48 to emulate or imitate physical appearance, but rather to capture essence. It was taken from simple mathematic and natural patterns easily observable in nature. Therefore, it is not at all incompatible with Christian art. Guaraní artisans in the missions would often paint icons in body-paint, or adorn doorways with these natural patterns. Churches themselves were often constructed at least partially in accordance with Guaraní building practices133. Also, they sometimes used substitution. Where Jesus could not be given a laurel wreath crown due to the lack of laurel trees in Paraguay, the Guaraní would get creative and substitute feathers, tobacco, or yerba mate leaves for the wreath, or add various other indigenous elements like musical instruments134. His hair could also be found braided135. These highly meaningful adaptations were likely brushed off by Jesuits as either necessity─when substituting one material for another when the original was not available─, abstract, unimportant reproduction errors or creative license. Jesuit accounts gave carefully detailed descriptions of these works of art and pointe out how well they respected the original model that was being emulated; it is highly unlikely that these adaptations would have gone unnoticed. In the end though, the results were pleasing to the Europeans. Expecting to receive criticism for their work after sending a few idols back to Europe for inspection, the Jesuits received praise for the “modifications”. Europeans found that the works coming out of the Guaraní missions possessed a certain spirituality and serenity fit for a Saint. The Guaraní were able to express calm and reassurance in their art to a point that 133 Kelly Donahue-Wallace, Art and Architecture of Viceregal Latin America, 1521-1821 (Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 2008) 189. 134 See Appendix 1, Fig. 4. 135 See Appendix 1, Fig. 5. 49 had not yet been seen in Europe136. The Jesuits’ trust in the Guaraní expanded; both were happy with their cultural production. This grew into entirely syncretic elements, like the Kurusu poty, a flowery cross combining potent elements of both worldviews used in missionary processions137. As other Guaraní cultural elements gained importance as the missions aged, this sense of identity was not limited to art. The production and consumption of yerba mate, which will be discussed in the fourth chapter, is a notable example. Yerba mate is today consumed worldwide, adopted as the drink of the Southern Cone of South America, enjoyed by Paraguayans, Chileans, Uruguayans, Brazilians, Argentines and more, regardless of ethnic background. The Catholic faith and the Guaraní worldview did not operate on the same level. Where the Catholic faith is based on adoration of the God, teaching the meaning of the Bible, and reproducing religious figures in art, the Guaraní worldview instead relied on honouring the work of the divine, using the Beautiful Words138 and using natural patterns, colours and images in art. The Jesuit attempt at complete evangelisation, a failed experiment, did not take into account the differences in worldviews. They appropriated the wrong God and misunderstood the essence of Guaraní spiritual teaching. The Guaraní’s polytheistic pantheon of Gods and mythology proved to be too much for the Jesuits to fully understand and use, especially considering that versions change based on who they consulted. Used to a specific set of rules and guidelines elaborated inside the Bible, the missionaries were unable to fully grasp the Guaraní 136 Bailey, Art on the Jesuit Missions 167. 137 Ibid 179. 138 The Guaraní language is derived from “The Beautiful Words” passed on to the Guaraní people by their Gods, according to their mythology. 50 worldview’s lack of precision, so they instead either dismissed it as non-existent or tried as best they could to make it fit within their familiar worldview. Meanwhile, the Guaraní quickly realized what was most important to the Jesuits. They had more experience with Europeans than the Jesuits had with foreign religions, let alone with the Guaraní people, and knew that conversion would be the key to accessing the safety provided by the missionaries. They generally went along with whatever religious proceeding the Jesuits imposed, such as mass or processions, though they managed to keep their own worldview alive through the arts. This provided an outlet for them to insert their own symbology into the Catholic religious artistic production. Through the slow integration of cultural elements from one culture to the other, the Guaraní and Jesuits were able to find a happy medium where both survived and arguably thrived together. Of course, it was not an ideal solution for the Guaraní to be converted to Christianity, but given the context of Conquest and of civilizing missions, the Guaraní managed to live in relative peace while maintaining several of their important cultural traits, including their dearest, the Guaraní language. As such, traces of the ancient Guaraní culture continue to be prevalent to this day, not only in the continuing existence of indigenous communities, but also in the dominant culture of the Paraguayan people. 51 Chapter 3 The Beautiful Words: The Linguistic Survival of Guaraní “Language has always been the perfect instrument of empire”139. Those were the words chosen by Antonio de Nebrija to justify his Grammatica Castillana, the first written grammar of the Spanish language, to Queen Isabella upon its publication in 1492. Of course, he was right, as the colonial process would lead to the worldwide spread of relatively small European languages like English, French, Castilian, and Portuguese. In the context of empire, linguistic imperialism─the transfer of the empire’s language of choice to its subjects─has many practical and psychological implications. It clearly defines the cultural hierarchy, allows for easier circulation of bureaucrats and administrators, simplifies business transactions and improves the effectiveness of documents used for religious conversion. It also helps to delegitimize native cultural elements and create a cultural allegiance to the dominant language’s culture. In the case of the Spanish-American Empire, tools like Nebrija’s grammar and the Reina-Valera Bible of 1569 saw heavy use in educational and religious institutions alike leading to Spanish becoming the most spoken language in all but one country derived from it. The study of language in Paraguay is the study of how an indigenous language was grown beyond its parent ethnicity and established as a lasting language despite Spanish imperial policy. The spread of Spanish in Spain’s American colonies happened quickly for three reasons. Obviously, it was the language of power, that of the colonial administrators. Using Spanish therefore facilitated contact with the Crown, as well as with other 139 Ismail S. Tahib. The Language of Postcolonial Literatures: An Introduction (London: Routledge, 2002) 7. 52 colonies. Then, it was the language of the Church. The Bible is a long book to translate in a language that one has not mastered. When one considers how many different languages were indigenous to the Spanish American empire, it becomes easy to see why they kept operating in Spanish. In addition, when Franciscan friar Bernardino de Sahagún actually did translate it into Nahuatl, it was banned by the Spanish Inquisition, as was to be expected, in 1576140. Most major indigenous languages now have Bible translations, but they were only published in the twentieth century. Finally, there is also an element of racism involved. European colonialism generally featured a civilizing mission, which extended to language. Danish linguist Robert Phillipson argues that linguicism exists when a language is perceived as superior to another and that, in colonial times, the use of the term “dialect” for indigenous languages in opposition to “language” for European ones is as blatant as the opposite uses of “tribal” and “civilized”141. The term “language” implies that it stands independent, whereas a “dialect” must be derived from something else, making it a perceived inferior form of communication. Having established the reasons why linguistic imperialism was prevalent in colonial Spanish America, the Paraguayan question stands out as an obvious exception. In order to answer it, the three previously mentioned elements of linguistic imperialism will be revisited in a Paraguayan context. Once again, Paraguay’s lack of economic status within the Spanish American empire and its distance from the provincial centre in Lima played important roles in the linguistic question. Europeans were vastly 140 David Tavarez, “Banned Sixteenth-Century Biblical Text in Nahuatl: The Proverbs of Solomon”, Ethnohistory 60 (No. 4, 2013) 759. 141 Phillipson, Linguistic Imperialism 38-39. 53 outnumbered by natives; they were not powerful enough to impose anything by force, be it religion, style of life, or language. Paraguayan cultural historian Bartomeu Melià estimates the presence of between 1.5 and 2 million Guaraní at the time of contact142; whereas only about 280 Spaniards were in the area by 1575, most of them men143. Asunción was built up as any Spanish colonial city would be, but most Guaraní never saw it and very little infrastructure was within their sight. Though Spanish may have technically been the “language of power,” this would not have been obvious to the Guaraní. Of those who made it to the city, most were married to Europeans to cement an alliance between the two144, and ended up raising their children, resulting in a Guaraní- speaking mestizo class. These women would play a large role in the spread of the language, but they contributed to the new mestizo class and, due to the aforementioned power dynamics in the area, their offspring were often groomed to take over positions of influence within the European-imported system. The makeup of Europeans arriving in Río de la Plata province145 is also relevant to the power of language in the area as it was the American province with the most heterogeneous European background146. Demographer Peter Boyd Bowman147 estimates that 23.3% of the original arrivals in the province were not of Spanish origin; the region was from the very beginning of the colonial period home to Portuguese, Flemish, Italian, French, German, English, Dutch and Greek immigrants148. The presence of many of 142 Bartomeu Melià, “The Guaraní Religious Experience” in Manuel M. Marzal et al., The Indian Face of God in Latin America (New York, Orbis Books, 1996) 171. 143 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 16. 144 Ibid. 145 Río de la Plata province was only divided in 1617, so when referring to 16th century Paraguay, it was a still a part of Río de la Plata province. 146 Domingo, Naissance 231. 147 Cited in Domingo, Naissance, 232. 148 Ibid, 232. 54 these settlers can be directly linked to King Charles I of Spain─better known as Charles V, Holy Roman Emperor─and his policy allowing mobility and migration within the entirety of his empire, including the Americas, except Jews, moriscos149, and Romani150. Paraguay’s poverty, which meant fewer settlers from the usual regions, opened it up to immigration from other parts of the Holy Roman Empire151. Most of the Italians, meanwhile, arrived with Genoese navigator Leon Pancaldo’s 1537-38 voyage, which was destined for Peru but accidentally ended up in Buenos Aires152. In addition to foreigners, Río de la Plata province was also abnormal in its “Spanish” population. While, like most Spanish-American provinces, most of the settlers were originally from the southern provinces of Andalucía, Castilla, or Extremadura, Río de la Plata province was home to a larger proportion of Northerners, specifically Basques, Navarrese, Galicians, Asturians and Catalonians from the Levante coast153. These populations, although under the Spanish crown, presented similar characteristics to non-Spanish populations; they increased the linguistic diversity of the province, but also that they were more likely than Castilians, Extremadurans and Andalusians to disregard, ignore, circumvent or otherwise refuse to adhere to orders from the Crown. The Basques, Asturians and Navarrese in particular have a rich history of autonomy dating back to the period of Moorish control over Iberia. Linguistically, this translates to a greater likelihood to adapt to a regional language if it is in their best interest rather than unreservedly sticking to Spanish as the only language of communication, business, and 149 Morisco is the term used to describe recent converts from Islam to Christianity. 150 Thomas Gomez, L’invention de l’Amérique: rêve et réalités de la Conquête (Paris : Aubier, 1992) 144. 151 Domingo, Naissance, 255. 152 Adriana Cristina Crolla, “Momentos y significaciones de las migraciones ítalo-rioplatenses” in Las migraciones ítalo-rioplatenses: Memoria cultural, literatura y territorialidades, Adriana Cristina Crolla ed. (Santa Fe: Ediciones UNL, 2013) 21. 153 Domingo, Naissance, 255. 55 religious activity. The most influential 16th century governor of Paraguay─and one of its most important advocates of autonomy─Martínez de Irala, was himself Basque. Another abnormality of the settlement of Paraguay was the lack of an imposing religious presence. It is said that the original conquerors had only one priest among them154. Though the Diocese of Paraguay was created in 1547, it was frequently vacant until the 1610s and, at its beginning, only had 17 priests155. Even when the bishopric was filled, bishops frequently neglected their evangelical responsibilities in the province156; the second Bishop, Pedro Fernandez de la Torre157, seemed more worried with political maneuvering than with evangelization and frequently found himself involved in conspiracies to overthrow the lieutenant governor158. His successor Alonso Guerra159, appointed six years after de la Torre’s death, landed in Asunción another six years after his appointment because of difficulties financing the trip. When he arrived, he found only three priests in the city160. Although Guerra was a Dominican, he invited Jesuits based in Brazil and Peru to come to the province in an attempt to fill the shortage of preachers161. Guerra was eager to do his job, but that was a problem for the people of Asunción, who were not used to being governed closely. Within one year of his arrival, they opposed his efforts to impose the tithe, and he was expelled in 1490 over this issue162. After that, it took six more years to appoint Tomas Vásquez de Liaño163, who 154 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations, 89. 155 Ibid. 156 Domingo, Naissance, 272. 157 Occasionally Pedro Fernando de la Torre or just Pedro de la Torre. 158 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 13-17. 159 Occasionally Alfonso. 160 Domingo, Naissance, 272. 161 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 34. 162 Eduardo R. Saguier, “Church and State in Buenos Aires in the Seventeenth Century,” Journal of Church and State 26 (No. 3, 1984) 498-99. 163 Occasionally Tomas, or del Caño. 56 died before being ordained164. Paola Domingo estimates that in the Diocese’s first 52 years of existence, the bishopric was vacant in half of them165. By the end of the sixteenth century, most areas of heavy European colonization in the Americas had already established schools, managed by religious orders, for both creole166 and native children. This is where cultural assimilation was attempted: Spanish was established as lingua franca and Christianity was imposed. Such an enterprise needed substantial manpower and constant oversight, neither of which was present in Asunción. Without the schools, Spanish never became the lingua franca in the area and most European settlers in the capital had to adapt by becoming fluent in both Spanish and Guaraní. Finally, another demographic reason exists for the survival of Guaraní and its proliferation through European settlements in the sixteenth century: the absence of European women. Less than a dozen women were part of the original conquest of Río de la Plata in 1536, and a few of those returned to Europe three years later. The harsh living conditions having likely been reported by the returnees, Alvar Núñez Cabeza de Vaca’s 1542 trip, the second to Río de la Plata, only brought four women167. As is to be expected in such a situation, the European population of the region was outnumbered by the mestizo population within a few years168. The rarity of European women, the Guaraní tradition of welcoming visitors and confirming alliances or partnerships by presenting concubines, and the lack of a strong ecclesiastical presence meant that the 164, Catholic-Hierarchy.org, Father Thomas Vásquez de Liaño, http://www.catholic- hierarchy.org/bishop/bvasqdc.html, page consulted on May 15th, 2016. 165 Domingo, Naissance 272. 166 Criollos (Creoles): People of European descent both maternally and paternally, but born in the Americas. 167 Ibid 274-5. 168 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations 24. http://www.catholic-hierarchy.org/bishop/bvasqdc.html http://www.catholic-hierarchy.org/bishop/bvasqdc.html 57 ground was fertile for European men to indulge sexually. In 1556 and 1575, the Juan de Salazar and Juan Ortiz de Zárate expeditions brought young single women to the province in an attempt to fight polygamy, though not nearly enough women were sent to remedy the situation169 and Catholic morals remained scarce. The province was derogatorily painted as “Mohammed’s paradise” due to instances of polygamy where each man had “five or ten or one hundred” women170. Polygamy was not new to the area, as it is an old Guaraní practice: Guaraní men struggled greatly with monogamy in the missions and occasionally walked out on this point. It was considered disgraceful to be “bound to one wife by a tie he could not dissolve at will”171. Virginity, chastity, and celibacy were said to be signs of unhappiness in their culture172. When a child was born from these relations, they were usually both raised and instructed by the mother, even if the father was still in the picture. The mother therefore educated the child in Guaraní customs and in the Guaraní language173. The implications of these numerous relations is that, within one generation, the majority of mestizos and thus the majority of people of European descent in the province spoke Guaraní as fluently as they spoke Spanish, if not better. This also meant a rapprochement between the European and Guaraní peoples: a priest passing through in 1545 wrote, horrified, that Spaniards referred to their Guaraní allies as “relatives” or “in laws” rather than their servants174. 169 Domingo, Naissance 275. 170 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations 31. 171 Ruiz de Montoya, Spiritual Conquest 49. 172 Ibid 75. 173 Ganson, Guaraní Under Spanish Rule 29. 174 Quoted in Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations 36. 58 In other parts of the Spanish-American Empire, a well-defined social hierarchy existed through a casta culture. The peninsulares175 held most position of power, with some criollos176 in positions of influence. Mestizos177 were rarely in positions of power unless their peninsular father was extremely influential, but they could still make a decent living178. At the bottom of the scale were found indigenous populations, mulattos/pardos179, zambos180, free blacks, and slaves181. This hierarchy also existed in Paraguay, though the lack of peninsulares and the rarity of creoles in the second half of the sixteenth century─only 22, 1% of legitimate children born in the province in the sixteenth century were creole182. This meant a much larger responsibility for mestizos, who found themselves in positions of power with more frequency than their counterparts in other colonies. For the most part, these mestizos spoke Guaraní as a native language, which helped solidify Guaraní as the regional language. All children born in Paraguay quickly became known as “mancebos de la tierra,” or “youths of the Earth,” giving them a certain equality of status. These distinctions were accentuated when the so-called Provincia Gigante de las Indias183 was split in 1617 and Paraguay received its own governorate184. This split placed most of the Guaraní speakers in the same region, once 175 Peninsulares: Europeans born in Europe. 176 See footnote 166. 177 Mestizo: Offspring of one European parent and one indigenous parent. 178 Some of the American born Jesuit missionaries were mestizos. 179 Mulatto/pardo: Offspring of one European parent and one black parent. 180 Zambo: Offspring of one indigenous parent and one black parent. 181 Though numbers are not available, it is safe to say that free blacks and slaves were few in Paraguay. The port of Buenos Aires, while involved in the slave trade, was not one of its main hubs, and most blacks that passed through would have ended up in Brazil or stayed on as dock workers in Buenos Aires. Definitions taken from Mark A. Burkholder and Lyman L. Johnson, Colonial Latin America, Seventh Edition (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2010 [1990]) 208-222. 182 Domingo, Naissance 297. It is to be noted that this percentage is only for legitimate children, and that the majority of children born in this province were illegitimate in the sixteenth century. 183 Officially New Andalusia Governorate (1534-1544), Governorate of the Río de la Plata (1544-1592), and Governorate of the Río de la Plata and of Paraguay (1592-1617). 184 At the time called Governorate of Guayrá, but commonly known as Governorate of Paraguay. 59 again tilting the balance of power away from the peninsulares and creoles, who had greater numbers in the new governorate of the Río de la Plata. By the end of the eighteenth century, even Asunción masses were performed in Guaraní185, though the capital audience by that point was largely at least bilingual in Spanish and Guaraní, unlike the missionary ones, which would rather be punished than learn Spanish186. As for the religious situation, the clerics quickly found themselves negotiating from a position of weakness. As mentioned, the Diocese had a very weak presence in Asunción in the sixteenth century. When he finally arrived in Asunción in 1585, bishop Guerra attempted to revitalize the presence of the church by allowing and even encouraging interactions with the natives in their own language. Upon realizing that the three priests in Asunción were not enough and that the Jesuits called in from Peru and Brazil still had an adaptation period in front of them, Guerra commissioned Franciscan priest Luis Bolaños to write a Catechism in Guaraní. It was produced only one decade after Sahagún’s Nahuatl Bible was banned by the Spanish Inquisition187. Guerra also took the step of encouraging youth to study theology, as he was open to hiring peninsulares, creoles, mestizos, or natives188. Bishop Guerra’s efforts paid off early in the seventeenth century as Bishop Martín Ignacio de Loyola convened the First Synod of Asunción in 1603. One of its main takeaways was the adoption of Bolaños’ Guaraní catechism as obligatory, setting the tone for mission work to be done in the native language189. This also resulted in the 185 Rubin, National Bilingualism 24. 186 Ganson, The Guaraní Under Spanish Rule 81. 187 Domingo, Naissance 272. 188 Ibid 221. 189 Roman Adrian Cybriwsky, Capital Cities Around The World: An Encyclopedia of Geography, History and Culture (Oxford: ABC-CLIO, 2013) 22. 60 prioritization of the language for the incoming Jesuit missionaries, who immediately set the goal of mastering the language. Within a few years, Antonio Ruiz de Montoya wrote the first Guaraní grammar, originally meant to be a guide for incoming missionaries. In the missionary setting, where as many as 4,500 Guaraní were supervised by two or three priests in each mission190, it was very difficult to impose cultural assimilation. Concessions needed to be made, and under the ruling of the 1603 Synod, language was the first. The priority for the Jesuits was obviously religion, so the language did not matter as much as the message. In addition, their learning of the native tongue brought them closer to the Guaraní, and made it difficult for outsiders to intervene in missionary affairs. As early as 1610, the Guaraní confronted the Jesuits about Spanish attempts to enslave them; Jesuit testimonials hint that the use of the Guaraní language as the official missionary language may have been in part to build trust after this incident191. The Jesuits frequently ignored Crown orders to educate the missions in Spanish192, but the Crown was powerless to do anything about it as the Guaraní were too numerous and too attached to the Jesuits. Besides, the Church had spoken already, so as far as the missionaries were concerned, they were protected on that front. In the missions, Guaraní was not only the official language for religious instruction, but also for daily life, including such activities as music and theatre193. Operations in Guaraní also represented a certain level of control for the Jesuits. In certain relations, it placed them as a necessary intermediary. Though the local secular population of Asunción and other regional towns spoke Guaraní, the governors sent 190 Sarreal, The Guaraní and Their Missions 1. 191 Ganson, The Guaraní Under Spanish Rule 80. 192 Ibid 76. 193 Zajícová, El bilingüismo paraguayo 26. 61 from Spain rarely did. The same can be said of the Bishops appointed to the Diocese of Paraguay. In addition, any communication between Europe and the Guaraní peoples─either from the Crown or from the Church─had to go through the Jesuits for translation. This intermediary position applied to both directions, as Guaraní leaders were also corresponding with viceregal officials─and occasionally with Spain─by writing letters, which were usually in Guaraní194. In addition to control and evangelization, learning the language helped the Jesuits better understand and manipulate Guaraní culture195. Knowledge of the language naturally led to a better understanding of native mythologies, cultural practices, and tribal relations. This understanding was indispensable with regards to finding religious commonalities196 and planning the best ways to integrate the natives into a European and Christian lifestyle. It also allowed them the opportunity to debate and discredit shamans197. Another interesting factor that could have influenced the Jesuits in keeping the use of Guaraní is simply the lack of a need to replace it. Missionary Jesuits came from all over Europe, so most had to learn a new language anyway. Of course, they came from German, Dutch, Italian, Danish, French and Portuguese backgrounds, so they came from “civilized” languages. Phillipson’s previously-mentioned linguicism argument is an interesting one, but it does not apply in this case. Phillipson defines linguicism as prejudice based on linguistic characteristics, similar to sexism when the prejudice exists 194 Sarreal, Guaraní and their Missions 9. 195 Ganson, Guaraní Under Spanish Rule 43. 196 See the story of Saint Thomas, chapter 4. 197 Ganson, Guaraní Under Spanish Rule 43. 62 on the basis of sex or racism on the basis of ethnicity198. It may exist in conjunction with sexism or racism─or in this case religious discrimination─though the crucial element to linguicism is the perceived power gap placed between individuals or groups on the basis of their language. Linguicism becomes linguistic imperialism when an actual structural power gap exists between linguistic groups199. Phillipson’s study focuses on English linguistic imperialism in the twentieth century, in cases like the English relationship with Welsh, or with certain native African languages in countries like Uganda, where educational structures favour the English language. These cases can be considered linguistic imperialism because of the allocation of funds provided, be they from governmental or private sources, which promotes the English language disproportionately to the other competing languages in a specific space. Another characteristic of linguistic imperialism is that it often coexists with other forms of cultural imperialism. In his study of English linguistic imperialism in the twentieth century, Phillipson points to cultural elements such as music, television, advertisement, movies, and books─including comic books─as being particularly influential to the focused and international growth of a language’s influence in the empire’s linguistic periphery. These elements, either consciously or subconsciously, become essential to one’s place in society; once a language has entered the realm of popular culture, its spread is much more rapid. It is difficult to translate his study to the seventeenth century, when few similar cultural elements could move around the world with any speed. The main transferrable cultural elements in this context that would have 198 Phillipson, Linguistic Imperialism 55. 199 Ibid. 63 reached Paraguay are books and theater, alongside religious practices such as mass and prayer. We already know that theater in the missions was performed in Guaraní, and that Catechism was translated in addition to masses being performed in the native language. In addition, more than one thousand books on the missions were found in Guaraní and even the caciques were usually unable to read or write in Spanish200. Combine these elements with the fact that Guaraní children were not schooled in Spanish and it becomes hard to argue that linguistic imperialism ever truly occurred in the Jesuit missions of Paraguay. This absence is abnormal, as it is generally accepted that Spain’s normalized Castilian language program201 was much more effective in the Americas than it was in Europe202. Even without structural linguistic imperialism, it is possible for linguicism to exist. We certainly know that racism existed, as well as religious discrimination, on the missions. If operating the missions in Guaraní was solely done in order to cope with the demographic situation or to appease the native population, it is likely that the European missionaries would have learned the language begrudgingly, and, in their writings, comment about the superiority of their own native tongue. To prove that linguicism was also present, all that is needed is to find instances of the Jesuits talking down the Guaraní language or otherwise placing European languages in higher regard. However, it is actually difficult to find examples of such linguicism when going through Jesuit 200 Rubin, National Bilingualism 25. 201 Nebrija’s grammar was meant to unite the newly reconquered Spain under the Castilian language, though it failed at weeding out either regional dialects or separate languages. It can be argued that Castilian only truly became the Spanish national language during General Franco’s fascist regime in the twentieth century. In America, however, Castilian spread rapidly due to the language tools that were being used as well as the high proportion of settlers that had come from Castile, Extremadura, and Andalusia rather than from Northern Spain, Catalonia, Valencia or the Balearc Islands. 202 Phillipson, Linguistic Imperialism 31. 64 accounts and testimonials. In fact, the opposite is true. Father Pierre-François-Xavier de Charlevoix wrote in 1756 that “their language is in no way inferior to any of the prettiest languages that we know”203. A letter from Father Chomé in Paraguay to Father Vanthiennen in Buenos Aires dated 1732 states “I will admit that after having been initiated to the mysteries of this language, I am surprised to find such majesty and energy; each word is an exact definition that explains the nature of the thing we are trying to explain, clearly and distinctly. I would have never imagined such a noble and harmonious language at the center of such a barbarian culture.”204 As early as 1639, Antonio Ruiz de Montoya, one of the leading scholars of Guaraní at the time, wrote that their high esteem for their language was “rightly so, for it is worthy of praise and of being celebrated among the tongues of renown.”205 If the missionaries were worried about their civilizing mission─and they were─language could be left alone as they believed the Guaraní language to be an equal to their own European languages. While the argument of a civilizing mission can be used in a broader analysis of missionary culture, it seems that its absence can help explain the lack of linguistic imperialism in Paraguay: many –isms can be applied when reading Jesuit accounts, but linguicism is not one of them. Even in Europe, the Guaraní language had a certain status. Renowned French Renaissance philosopher Michel de Montaigne once compared the language to Greek, a linguistic standard of the time206. There was a certain care attached to beauty within both 203 Pierre-François Xavier de Charlevoix, Histoire du Paraguay, Tome 1 (Paris : Didot, Giffart, Nyon, 1756) 181. 204 Father Chomé, “Seconde lettre du père Chomé au P. Vanthiennen” in M.L. Aimé-Martin, editor. Lettres édifiantes et curieuses concernant l’Asie, l’Afrique et l’Amérique avec quelques relations nouvelles des missions et des notes géographique et historiques, Tome II (Paris : 1843) 108. 205 Ruiz de Montoya, Spiritual Conquest 48 206 Hugh O’Shaughnessy, The Priest of Paraguay (London: Zed Books, 2009) 17. 65 the language and the culture; poets were for example held in high regard. In Guaraní culture, the spoken and sung word are essential concepts to spiritual life207. Ritualized words are gifts to be shared with others, familiar and unfamiliar. This explains in part why the Guaraní language is used as a communal language among different tribes. While different dialects exist, tribes that adhere to the Tupi-Guaraní language family throughout Paraguay, Uruguay, Eastern Bolivia, Southern Brazil and Northern Argentina all speak related languages and can understand each other without difficulty. This communal character corresponds to one of the main teachings of the Guaraní worldview that they sought to maintain throughout the cultural adaptation process. Even the founders of the modern Republic of Paraguay in 1811 were able to recognize the emotional attachment of the people─by this point natives, mestizos and creoles─to the Guaraní language208. It is said that even those who mainly use Spanish in twentieth century Paraguay will revert to Guaraní when expressing either extreme anger or profound emotion, which suggests an emotional depth that even linguistically surpasses that of Spanish209. This is important because of the demographics of the area. Unlike in other parts of South America, the Guaraní population was only decimated in the 1860s alongside the rest of Paraguay’s population in the War of the Triple Alliance210. According to Melià’s demographic study, at the time of the Jesuit expulsion in 1767, there was still double the amount of Guaraní over those of European or mestizo descent and the 207 Melià, The Guaraní Religious Experience 192. 208 Rubin, National Bilingualism 25. 209 Ibid 26. 210 Pierre Mondain, “Un conflit oublié: la guerre du Paraguay contre la Triple-Alliance (1864-1870)” Revue Historique 256 (No. 2, 1976) 414. 66 mission population itself outnumbered all other inhabitants of Paraguay211. Because a large part of them participated in the missionary experiment–approximately 90,000 were left in the missions in 1768 after the Expulsion of the Jesuits212 ─their language was preserved. Most did not learn to read or write in the missions213 ─why would they, all one thousand books in Guaraní held at the missions were written by the Jesuits themselves214. This protected the language from the exotic elements of European style and structures that would later threaten it and preserved indigenous dependence on oral history for the transmission of knowledge. In a way, missionary linguistic policy delayed the contact of Castilian and Guaraní for an extra 150 years and, by the time the large indigenous population left the missions in 1767, linguistic issues were not as important a concern for the crown, considering these populations had successfully converted to Catholicism. Though, to quote Nebrija again, “language has always been the perfect tool of empire,” the Jesuits have shown that it is not only an offensive tool, but also a defensive one. The Jesuits did not choose to use the invading language as their tool, but the native one in order to gain trust and build relations. They made this choice knowing that the social environment in which they found themselves left them little other choice215. Upon an analysis of the geopolitical situation of the Paraguayan missions and of the demographic challenge, it can be seen that they did not have much of a choice in taking the opportunity presented by the Guaraní language to build bridges with these people 211 Sarreal, Globalization and the Guaraní 18. 212 Massimo Livi-Bacci and Ernesto J. Maeder, “The Missions of Paraguay: The Demography of an Experiment”, The Journal of Interdisciplinary History 35 (No. 2, 2004) 190. 213 Sarreal, The Guaranî and Their Missions 138. 214 This was the position taken by Jesuit priests. Dobrizhoffer, Account of the Abipones, Vol. 1 229. 215 Lozano, Historia de la Compaña de Jesus 41 67 and consolidate the presence of the Spanish and Catholic empires in Paraguay. The beauty, complexity and nobility of the language helped justify its use, but it is safe to say that the missionary effort would have had very different results if linguistic concessions had not been made to the Guaraní. 68 Chapter 4 Check Mate: The Strategic Implications of Yerba Mate in the Missions Paraguay’s cultural association with yerba mate dates to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Though its cultivation and use in Guaraní culture goes back further, there is nothing in pre-Colombian folklore that explains why the herb would be used over a variety of other native crops in the expression of Guaraní identity. In order to understand yerba mate’s place in the cultural identity of the area, we must reflect upon the economic realities of early colonial Paraguay as well as the relations between pre-Colombian peoples and the new arrivals. Yerba mate did not survive as a staple of Guaraní culture but rather became a Guaraní staple to assure the culture’s survival. Throughout the colonial era, European endeavours in the Americas were justified to their various Crowns by their economic potential, expressed in the mineral richness and in the land’s ability to yield highly-prized agricultural items that could be sold for profit; these were known as cash crops. The first conquistadores sought gold and silver from their journeys and oriented their travels based on where such minerals were rumoured to be found. Many of the original European settlements were founded around such areas of geological production: Zacatecas and Potosí quickly became central to European activity in the Viceroyalties of New Spain and Peru, respectively, due to their seemingly endless production of silver. While those examples fit the commonly taught narrative that Europeans struck gold and exploited their way to fortune in the New World, they only account for a part of the story. Zacatecas and Potosí happen to be located near the two main centers of pre-Colombian civilization. Zacatecas, while not in 69 the Aztec realm, was home to the Chichimeca216 people, who welcomed the Europeans with silver in 1546217. Potosí, on the other hand, was well known to the Inca and exploitation of its silver had begun nearly a century before the European arrival218. The moment the Europeans began making alliances with indigenous groups, they learned of these great resources and marked them as potential cities around which to build an empire. Though the Aztec and Inca had geographically substantial empires, they only covered a fraction of the American continent. Other regions, while inhabited, had an unknown economic potential because of the style of life of those who lived there. In some cases, sedentary peoples were dependent on subsistence agriculture and trade. In others, semi-nomadic peoples practiced slash and burn agriculture. Regardless, the lack of a known mineral deposit did not necessarily mean that such a deposit did not exist. Therefore, ambitious settlers pushed the frontiers seeking fortune, hoping to be the first European to discover and lay claim to the next Zacatecas or Potosí. In certain cases, such as the discovery of diamonds and gold in Minas Gerais by bandeirantes219 in the late seventeenth century, the search for precious metals was successful220. Where the search came up empty, the European fortune-seekers did not abandon their quest, but rather 216 While the Zacateca were the people-group involved, they are one of many peoples referred to by the Aztecs as “Chichimeca”. 217 Philip Wayne Powell, Soldiers, Indians & Silver: North America’s first frontier war, 1952 (Reprint, Tempe AZ: Center for Latin American Studies, 1975) 10-11. 218 Lewis Hanke, The Imperial City of Potosí: An unwritten chapter in the history of Spanish America (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1956) 1. 219 Bandeirantes were Portuguese settlers, mainly established in Brazil, who organized expeditions inland with the goal of bringing back slaves and precious metals. 220 Iran F. Machado & Silvia F. de M. Figueirôa, “500 years of mining in Brazil: a brief review,” Resources Policy 27, No. 1 (2001) 12. 70 turned to agriculture. This meant identifying which land best matched the production of a specific cash crop and producing as much as possible for export. Ideally, the cash crop itself would be one known in Europe, like coffee, sugar, or cotton. The fortune-seekers soon found out, however, that coffee grows best between twenty-five degrees north of the Equator and thirteen degrees south221, which may be perfect for Central America, the Caribbean, and Northern South America, but leaves out much of the Southern Cone. Its cultivation also varies based on different factors such as altitude222, which was great news for those trying out the crop in Colombia, but not so much for those in Paraguay. Sugar was a particularly labour intensive crop, and required─at first─a large indigenous workforce, and then easy access to the Atlantic slave trade223. Sugar certainly grew in Paraguay, but the cost of labour was such that Paraguayan sugar was not competitive next to cheaper Brazilian sugar224. Unlike the imported coffee and sugar crops, cotton is native to America. The most common type is native to Central America and was mass produced in pre-Colombian times225, giving those countries a natural advantage. In addition, it also grows in common conditions, making it an easily outsourceable commodity. Cotton culture in Paraguay has thus long been characterized by its low outputs. If none of those cash crops were advantageous in the settled area, the preferred alternative was to try native American crops that found favour with European explorers in hope that a market could be expanded across the Atlantic. Thus developed industries 221 Francis Beatty Thurber, Coffee: from plantation to cup. A Brief History of Coffee Production and Consumption (New York: American Grocer Publishing Association, 1881) 4. 222 Ibid 5. 223 Sidney Mintz, Sweetness and Power: The Place of Sugar in Modern History (New York: Penguin Books, 1986) 33. 224 López, The Revolt of the Comuñeros, 23. 225 Sven Beckert, Empire of Cotton: A Global History (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 2015) 4. 71 related to crops like tobacco and cocoa. Tobacco was not only present in Paraguay before the Encounter, it was used in shamanistic rituals by the Guaraní226. That being said, the crop grew in larger quantities in neighbouring areas and it is speculated that tobacco was part of the pre-Columbian trade in the region227. Tobacco is not as difficult a crop as coffee or as labour-intensive as sugar; within a century of its introduction to Europeans, it was grown in most of the world228. The problem in this case again lies with competition, but of a different kind: transportation. Whereas the crop grew fine in the region, crops in Paraguay had to travel a significant distance to the port of Lima before embarking on a long journey that crossed four different ports: Lima, Panama, Santo Domingo and finally Cádiz. The tobacco trade was therefore quickly concentrated in areas with easier access to ports than Paraguay, areas like the southern United States, China, Brazil, India, the Philippines and Indonesia. Cocoa, finally, was grown mainly as a monoculture on large estates, often through the use of slave labour229. Guaraní groups generally practiced slash and burn agriculture230, creating an environment in which cocoa rarely grew well.231 Besides, cocoa was mainly consumed as a warm beverage in the colonial period and therefore acted as a competitor to mate. Instead of producing these crops, the Paraguayan soil most often produced maize, sweet potatoes, beans, 226 Dot Tuer, “Old Bones and Beautiful Words: The Spiritual Contestation between Shaman and Jesuit in the Guaraní Missions” in Colonial Saints: Discovering the Holy in the Americas, Allan Greer and Jodi Bilinkoff eds. (New York: Routledge, 2003) 85. Johannes Wilbert, Tobacco and Shamanism in South America (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1987) 118. 227 Ibid 4. 228 Jordan Goodman, Tobacco in History: The cultures of dependence (London: Routledge, 1993) 36. 229 William Gervase Clarence-Smith, Cocoa and Chocolate, 1765-1914 (London: Routledge, 2000) 1. 230 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations 15. 231 Ibid 3. 72 peanuts, and pumpkins232, crops that did not necessarily excite the Spanish fortune- seeker. Yerba mate, on the other hand, provided Paraguay with an important comparative advantage. Ilex paraguariensis, the small tree from which yerba mate is cultivated, grows in the wild in a very specific environment between the latitudes 25 and 32 degrees233. This tree also distinguishes itself from the other cash crops because it lacks adaptability; until the Jesuits managed to domesticate it late in the seventeenth century, yerba mate only grew in the wild234. Any market for yerba mate therefore had to be involved with the province of Paraguay. Finally, it gave Paraguay something the other crops could not: legal classification as a mineral. Because yerba was “a spontaneous production of nature,” a loophole in Spanish law allowed for its industry to be considered royal property like gold and silver, rather than privately owned agriculture235. Two important questions thus had to be asked: could a market be created for yerba mate, and was such a market desirable? A market for yerba mate did not have to be created, but rather expanded. Archaeological findings of the crop in Inca tombs near modern-day Lima236 prove the existence of at least a small scale pre-Columbian trade in yerba mate. Expanding the trade to neighbouring regions within the Southern Cone was definitely a feasible task considering the alleged physiological benefits of consuming mate. Beyond that, the crop would have competed in the same global markets as other stimulating beverages, such as 232 Ibid 15. 233 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 24 234 Whigham, The Politics of River Trade 10 & 110. 235 Ibid, 110. 236 Christine Folch, “Stimulating Consumption: Yerma Mate Myths, Markets and Meanings From Conquest to Present,” Comparative Studies in Society and History 52, No. 1 (2010), 11. 73 coffee and tea, which were being mass produced by the Spanish and British empires, among others. Such a global competition was never within the realm of possibility for yerba mate due to the aforementioned factors─distance from a major port and shipping difficulties through the Pacific─as well as the fact that the yet-to-be domesticated tree is limited in its productivity. This market never turned Paraguay into an economic hotbed, but it contributed to the economic parameters that opened a political space in which no true group was able to claim full control. Paraguay was not prosperous enough to attract the elites or much attention from the Crown, but instead provided political opportunity to those who were at the back of the line in Peru or in New Spain. The yerba mate market also provided a stable crop upon which religious missions could depend for self- sufficiency, a factor that was important when exploring a frontier of little economic interest to the Crown. Despite its economic benefits, the yerba mate trade was not quickly encouraged. Though the origin of European use of mate is not known, its use was widespread by the late sixteenth century237. The first known cases of yerba mate usage by Europeans come from the wills and testaments of European settlers in the 1550s, in which the tea was put up for auction, a sign that it had already become a desirable commodity238. By the end of the sixteenth century though, local leaders were already complaining about excessive use and dependence on the tea by Europeans, mestizos, and Guaraní239. It was considered a vice by many240; dependence allegedly caused one woman to sell her house 237 Adalberto López, “The Economics of Yerba Mate in Seventeenth-Century South America,” Agricultural History 48, No. 4 (1974), 497. 238 Domingo, Naissance 379. 239 Efraím Cardozo, El Paraguay colonial. Asunción: El Lector, 1991, 94. 240 Whigham, Politics of River Trade, 110. 74 in order to purchase the tea241. Indigenous use of the tea also frustrated the local elites, as some complained that the Guaraní would often refuse to work until they had been given some242. Due to the lack of yerba mate usage by Guaraní in pre-Columbian times, this refusal might have been another form of everyday resistance, or an excuse not to participate in an economic system they felt was unfair to them and contrary to their beliefs. It might also have been an attempt to connect with their belief system before entering a way of life that was foreign to them. Regardless, the local demand for yerba mate increased exponentially in the second half of the sixteenth century to the point that, by the count of Jesuit Marcial de Lorenzana in 1600, 1000 pounds were already being consumed daily in Asunción243. The consumption of yerba mate, as a Guaraní cultural practice, became a communal event. To this day, it is deemed unacceptable to have more than one gourd when drinking mate among friends. The practice is a simple one: the holder of the gourd─generally made from calabash, called the mate, and decorated in Guaraní patterns─prepares the drink by adding dried yerba mate leaves to the gourd, never filling it. Hot water is then poured into the gourd and the bombilla, a specific perforated yerba mate straw usually made of silver or bamboo, is inserted244. The holder takes but one drink, and passes the gourd around, sharing both gourd and bombilla with friends and strangers alike. The responsibility of adding water when needed is a shared one; if the gourd runs out of water, anyone can add some. For tereré, a similarly popular Paraguayan beverage, the hot water is simply replaced with ice cold water. Yerba mate 241 López, Economics of Yerba Mate, 498 242 Ibid. 243 Ibid. 244 See Appendix 1, figures 6 and 7. 75 is said to be a stimulant when working and a sedative while at rest245, which could explain why its recreational use by Guaraní increased when they were put to work by Europeans, either in a missionary context or an encomienda. It is also alleged to help with altitude sickness; as such, close to 50 000 arrobas246 of yerba mate were shipped to the Bolivian silver mountain, Potosí, annually at the end of the seventeenth century247. It was similarly shipped to mountainous regions of Chile. These medicinal claims are still debated, though it is certain that the Guaraní believed them. Though mate’s communal consumption has a relaxed atmosphere, its difficult harvest and preparation present a cruel contrast. For decades before the herb could be domesticated, yerba mate harvest was an arduous process. Large quantities had to be retrieved from the forest248, often several hundreds of miles from the mission249. After an original scout was sent weeks in advance to find a decent batch, small groups of Guaraní─normally from the same traditional family unit under the leadership of the teýy250─would leave the missions for months at a time accompanied only by a few ox- pulled wagons filled with food and supplies251. Thousands of mission Guaraní undertook these expeditions yearly252. They were often deadly, as the Paraguayan forest was inhabited by a rich array of snakes, insects, jaguars and other predators, slave hunters and encomenderos, as well as disease253. For protection, heavy clothing needed to be 245 Cushner, Why Have You Come Here 118. 246 1 arroba = 25 pounds, so 50 000 arrobas is about 1 250 000 lbs or 567 000 kg. 247 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 24. 248 These yerba mate producing forests are called yerbales. 249 Ganson, The Guaraní Under Spanish Rule 63. See Appendix 1, fig 7: Yerba mate harvest and trade route. 250 Sarreal, Globalization and the Guaraní 38 251 Whigham, River Trade 110-111. 252 López, Economics of Yerba Mate 506. 253 Ganson, The Guaraní Under Spanish Rule 64 76 worn at all times as well as tanned sheepskins for the faces and limbs, and bonfires were maintained throughout the night in an attempt to keep animals away254. Once on site, temporary buildings were built to prepare and store the product, occasionally taking weeks. If that was not enough, they had to actually harvest the herb, which was no small task. The worker first cleaned the tree to avoid cuts, then climbed it. As the trees’ breathing organs, the clusters of leaves called bandoleiras are found at the edge of the larger branches. To reach these target leaves, the worker needed to first cut off the smaller branches, and then access the bandoleiras255. As the tree is quite slippery, this part of the operation can be dangerous, becoming impossible on a rainy day. A complex traditional toasting and drying process then occured by placing the leaves over an open pit, the tatacuá, and surrounding them with bonfires. Once sufficiently toasted, the leaves were placed on a heavy rawhide netting and carried to the barbacuá, which is a fifteen to twenty square feet arch with a large fire underneath to dry to leaves. In order to avoid both combustion and the smoky flavour, the urú256 kept vigilant watch over it257. The traditional barbacuá system was so effective that modified version is used in modern yerba mate production258. Forty-eight hours later, the yerba was generally dry. Any rain during this period meant restarting the drying barbacuá process. After the toasting and drying, the leaves needed preparation. Large mallets were used to ground the leaves into a coarse powder, though not too fine259. Before loading them onto carts and eventually boats, each member of the expedition carried between 254 Whigham, River Trade, 114-115. 255 Ralph H. Cheney, “The Biology and Economics of the Beverage Industry” Economic Botany 1 (No. 3, 1947) 263. 256 The barbacuá operator. 257 Whigham, River Trade, 114-115. 258 See Appendix 1, Fig. 8. 259 Ganson, The Guaraní Under Spanish Rule, 64. 77 150 to 225 pounds of mate on their backs, occasionally more if the expedition lost members260. This process was shortened considerably in the 1660s when the Jesuits became the first to successfully domesticate the tree on their missions, though expeditions were still common throughout the Jesuit era, as domesticated quantities could not adequately respond to demand. One tree could give approximately two kilograms of leaves261, which was not enough. The Jesuits immediately vocalized concerns about yerba mate when the missionary period began in the early seventeenth century. Antonio Ruiz de Montoya, one of the original Jesuits sent to establish the first missions in the area, wrote in 1639: “I carefully inquired about [the herb’s] origin from Indians who were eight to a hundred years old. I learned as a certain fact that in their youth the herb was not drunk or even known except by a great sorcerer or magician who trafficked with the devil. The devil showed him the herb and told him to drink it whenever he wanted to consult him. He did so, and, under his tutelage, so did others whom we have known in our own days. The witchcraft they perform commonly derives from this herb.”262 Though this type of legend is commonly found in writings by European missionaries about their interactions with indigenous Americans as a way to discredit their belief system263, Ruiz de Montoya does not appear to be fabricating this story as much as he is simply misinterpreting it. As was the case with their different traditional uses of art and 260 Ibid. 261 Vera Blinn Reber, “Commerce and Industry in Nineteenth Century Paraguay: The Example of Yerba Mate”, The Americas 42. No. 1 (1985) 32. 262 Ruiz de Montoya, The Spiritual Conquest 42-43. 263 Fernando Cervantes, The Devil in the New World: The Impact of Diabolism in New Spain (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1994) 3. 78 clothing, the Guaraní and Christian worldviews have fundamental disagreements in their perception of certain concepts. Discussing Ruiz de Montoya’s interpretation of the origins of yerba mate, it is obvious that the clashing cultures do not have the same definition of “devil” because the Christian belief system is fundamentally based on a static perception of “good” and “evil” whereas the Guaraní interpret those terms as fluid. Instead of featuring a “perfect” Creator and his masterpiece planet, Guaraní mythology features the aforementioned Twins, who need to complete missions and perfect the Creator’s work. In order to pass their new findings down to humans, they needed to first teach it to the Añan264, a term that Jesuits translated to “demon” or “evil spirit,” who would then transfer it on to the Guaraní. Here arises a key issue: translation. The fluid Guaraní mythology does not translate well to a religious language used to precisely define and place terms in accordance to their level of “good”ness or “bad”ness. In many myths, the Añan can be seen represented in jaguar form; this does not mean that jaguars are evil. Instead, jaguars are simply seen as untamed creatures─what humans become if they do not follow spiritual teachings265. They are also occasionally seen as enforcers for the Gods─if you do not follow the spiritual guidelines, you will likely be hunted by a jaguar266. Similarly, Añan are generally harmless figures that are often outsmarted or outwitted by the Twins267. However, because their reason for existing is to plant doubt in human minds and to misguide the shamans268, Jesuits equated their role to 264 Añan is one of the many words used to describe them. 265 Carlos Fausto, “If God Were a Jaguar: Cannibalism and Christianity among the Guaraní (16th-20th centuries) in Time and Memory in Indigenous Amazonia: Anthropological Perspectives, edited by Carlos Fausto and Michael Heckenberger (Gainesville: University Press of Florida, 2007) 85. 266 León Cadogan, “Animal and Plant Cults in Guaraní Lore,” Revista de Antropologia 14 (1966) 106. 267 Andrés I. Prieto, Missionary Scientists: Jesuit Science in Spanish South America, 1570-1810 (Nashville: Vanderbilt University Press, 2011) 68. 268 Clastres, La terre sans mal 31. 79 the role of the Christian devil269. This poor translation, despite seeming innocuous at first, developed into the rejection of yerba mate based on its alleged diabolic origin. The Twins myth is one that exists throughout different South American native communities. Each version has its own interpretation; the Guaraní version places more emphasis on tangible cultural contributions on Earth, whereas others are more celestial and abstract270. Had the Jesuits looked into the structures of the Guaraní worldview, they would have seen that the Añan were simply used by a good religious figure─the Twins─to transfer divine knowledge to humanity271. They are the means through which the information is distributed, but not the source of the information itself. It is debatable whether or not this would have made a difference in the Jesuit rejection of yerba mate. While the Jesuits did appropriate many Guaraní customs and cultural elements to facilitate evangelization, they also tried to distance the Guaraní from anything they felt was too closely linked to their indigenous belief system, as they felt it would get in the way of their path to civilization. By the 1640s, however, the Jesuits realized that yerba mate was the most commercially viable resource that could be produced in the area272. Until that point, the economy inside the missions operated without much contact with the economy outside the missions; it was self-sufficient with most of its needs but still needed to import certain products or to pay the tribute that the Guaraní legally owed the Crown. The cost of importing required materials that could not be found in Paraguay otherwise, like 269 Melià, The Guaraní Religious Experience 201. 270 Alfred Métraux, “Twin Heroes in South American Mythology,” The Journal of American Folklore 59, No. 232 (1946) 116. 271 In addition to medicinal herbs, many other “divine” elements were transferred to humans in this way, including honey, which was an important part of the Guaraní diet. 272 Ross W. Jamieson, “The Essence of Commodification: Caffeine Dependencies in the Early Modern World,” Journal of Social History 35, No 2 (2001) 277. 80 iron273, was so inflated that the Jesuits could not afford to stay out of the yerba mate trade. Having already clearly stated an opposition to the herb on a religious ground, their entry into the yerba mate trade brought a problem. A theological justification needed to be found for the Jesuits to be able to reverse their stance on the herb as “used for witchcraft,” as Ruiz de Montoya had stated. Yerba mate’s commercial viability, it must be noted, was a relatively new phenomenon in the province of Paraguay, only dating back to the 1550s. In fact, there is little evidence that the drink was consumed recreationally by the Guaraní before the Spaniards started consuming it274. Because of its spiritual source, the herb was consumed on the advice of the shaman, as a prescription for an ailment of some sort275. The most powerful class of pre-contact shaman, known as the karai, had a dual role in which they were both the spiritual advisors and the healers; they controlled the use of the sacred herb as medicine276. Many of the karai were accused by Jesuits of practicing witchcraft because of this duality of roles: they used herbs to heal under a religious or spiritual doctrine that was foreign to the European priests. However, the Jesuits also used these accusations to displace the karai from their position of power, as they identified this class as one that they could replace through the evangelization process. Therefore, in the missions of Paraguay, the Jesuits assumed both roles: spiritual advisors─priests, their vocation─and also medicinal healers. 273 López (Economics of Yerba Mate, 498) cites a primary source claiming that a horseshoe cost more than the horse in the province of Paraguay. 274 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 24. 275 Usually, an ailment of any sort. Yerba mate was and still is a remedy for whichever illness in Guaraní cultures. 276 Prieto, Devil’s Herb 212. 81 However, a common practice among Jesuit missionaries of the time was to document an absence of medicinal knowledge among local populations277. While this practice can be interpreted as yet another instance of the feeling of cultural superiority felt by Europeans and expressed by the dismissal of a native practice, it was likely more of an effort to uproot the connection between the myths and medicine. If Jesuits could take over the medicinal role of the karai, they would be in a position not only to disconnect the link with Guaraní mythology, but also to create a new link with Christianity. For this to be justifiable with the authorities, however, they needed to overlook any meaning the herbs had to the Guaraní, as this would have been synonymous with working with objects deemed to be of witchcraft. This loophole allowed them to claim any knowledge gained from natives as new discoveries, which in turn allowed them to use these native remedies in the missions to ease the inevitable cultural shock felt by local populations. By the time the Jesuits wanted to enter the yerba mate trade in the mid- seventeenth century, however, Ruiz de Montoya’s writings were already thirty years old; the Jesuits could not claim discovery of the herb because its so-called origin was well documented. In order to enter the yerba mate trade, they therefore had to come up with a theological justification, which meant discrediting Ruiz de Montoya’s findings. Instead of fully discrediting Ruiz de Montoya, they chose the approach of connecting his findings with another theory that was circulating at the time: an attempt to fill in one of the larger theological holes created with the introduction of the Americas into European and Christian knowledge. 277 Ibid. 82 According to the Bible, one of the definitive moments of the spread of early Christianity was the Dispersion of the Apostles, according to which Jesus’ Apostles were sent to preach “everywhere”278. Up until the end of the fifteenth century, this claim was believable, and believed, as specific apostles were recorded as having travelled to all parts of the world known to Europeans. America posed a problem to this claim: was it possible that the Apostles missed a landmass? As Christopher Columbus was travelling back and forth in the late fifteenth century, comparisons were already being made between him and Saint Thomas, who had spread the Word to India, which is where Columbus believed he was279. The logical assumption was made that, because Columbus was in the Indies somewhere, he was following in Saint Thomas’ footsteps, so the search began for traces of the former’s preaching. As the commonly held belief that the Earth was split into three land masses─Europe, Africa, and Asia─slowly transformed into a belief that it was split in four, the search for Saint Thomas continued, and amplified. After all, as Ruiz de Montoya wrote, the apostles were sent across the Earth, so America could not possibly have been left out280. The Saint Thomas theory is one that rapidly gained traction in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries. Inspired by Augustinian Alonso Ramos and Jesuit Manuel da Nóbrega, based in Peru and Brazil respectively, Ruiz de Montoya himself was one of the most important champions of the theory281 in South America282. So obsessed was Ruiz 278 Mark 16:19-20 KJV. 279 Louis-André Vigneras, “Saint Thomas, Apostle of America” The Hispanic American Historical Review 57:1 (1977) 86. 280 Ruiz de Montoya, The Spiritual Conquest 79. 281 David A. Brading, The First America: The Spanish Monarchy, Creole Patriotism and the Liberal State 1492-1867 (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991) 173. 282 While The Jesuits were instrumental in the spread of the theory in South America, it was the Franciscans who originally propagated it in Mexico and Central America. 83 de Montoya with it that he devoted six chapters of The Spiritual Conquest283 to traces of Saint Thomas. Much like Hernán Cortés in his fabled arrival in Mexico, where he claimed to have been mistaken for the foretold arrival of high-priest Quetzalcoatl─a tale that may well have been made up after the events occurred284 ─Ruiz de Montoya reports of the extraordinary welcome he received in the Province of Paraguay. He attributed it to a roaming preacher who had passed through many centuries before, stating that, in time, “when some priests who will succeed me come carrying a cross as I do, this teaching [that will be lost in intermediate generations] will be heard by your descendants”285. Italian Jesuit Giuseppe Cataldini286, with whom Ruiz de Montoya287 interacted considerably and greatly respected but was not paired, writes a nearly identical account in a 1613 letter to Provincial father Diego de Torres288. While Ruiz de Montoya does not account for how this nugget of information survived through the generations but not the teaching itself, he vehemently believes that this is proof of Saint Thomas the Apostle’s presence in the Americas, just as Diego Durán reported in 1576 that Quetzalcoatl was a distortion of the prophet that Saint Thomas had foretold in Mexico289. A third similar instance appears in Portuguese chronicler Simão de 283 Ruiz de Montoya, The Spiritual Conquest 74-84. 284 J.H. Elliott, “The Mental World of Hernan Cortés” Transaction of the Royal Historical Society 17 (1967) 52. 285 Ruiz de Montoya, The Spiritual Conquest 74. 286 Sometimes Hispanicised to José Cataldino. 287 Ruiz de Montoya specifically mentions his admiration for Cataldini in The Spiritual Conquest (160) but he makes multiple appearances in the account. He does not, however, mention Cataldini in the section where he attempts to prove the connection with Saint Thomas, despite citing as many Jesuits who had heard similar stories as he could; it is therefore possible that the two never discussed Saint Thomas is their brief interactions. 288 Letter is reproduced in Pedro Lozano SJ, Historia de la compaña de Jesús de la Provincia del Paraguay, Vol. 2, Madrid: Supremo Consejo de la Inquisición, 1765, 387-8 289 Manuel María Marzal, Historia de la antropología indigenista: México y Perú (Merida: Editorial Regional de Extremadura, 1993) 63. 84 Vasconcellos’ 1663 account290. In each of the accounts, the expected prophet is a lighter- skinned bearded man coming from the East and the predecessor had visited multiple centuries before. Ruiz de Montoya excitedly reports that this wandering prophet’s name was Pay Zumé291 in Guaraní territory and Pay Tumé in Inca territory─Ruiz de Montoya was a creole born and raised in Lima. This name was clearly, according to his writings, a distortion of the Spanish Tomé292. Ruiz de Montoya also continues Nóbrega’s quest for Saint Thomas’ footprints. He writes of footprints in a rock at the end of the beach where Saint Thomas landed, which Simão de Vasconcellos identifies as being Toqué Toqué beach near São Vicente293. He takes Nóbrega’s claim further, stating that the locals have assured him that the steps continue all the way to Asunción294. Ruiz de Montoya speculates that Saint Thomas may have reached America by Roman ship or “as may be thought closer to the truth, being transported there by God miraculously”295, and that he was carrying a stone cross so heavy that it remained underground and covered by water for some fifteen hundred years296. Here, he speaks of the Cross of Carabuco, which was first chronicled in 1621 by the aforementioned Augustinian Alonso Ramos. It is alleged to have been brought there by an apostle and somehow ended up in the river after the locals were not able to even scratch it upon the devil’s request297. Ruiz de Montoya appears to have been 290 Simão de Vasconcellos, Chronica da Companha de Jesu do Estado do Brasil e do que obraram seus filhos n’esta parte do novo mundo, Second Edition, Lisboa: Editor AJ Fernandes Lopes, 1865 (1663) CIII 291 Occasionally spelled Zomé, Çumé or Sumé, especially in accounts from the Brazilian coast, like that of Vasconcellos, or Pa’i Shume in the Guaraní language family. 292 Ruiz de Montoya, The Spiritual Conquest 74. 293 Simão de Vasconcellos, Chronica da Companha de Jesu CIII. 294 Ruiz de Montoya, The Spiritual Conquest 76. 295 Ibid 80. 296 Ibid 81. 297 Adolph F. Bandelier, “The Cross of Carabuco in Bolivia” American Anthropologist 6 (No.5: 1904) 600. 85 exaggerating this claim, as the cross, which was not made of stone but wood, has now not only been moved but has been fashioned into two smaller crosses that call churches in Carabuco and Sucre home298. In addition to exaggerating the material, Ruiz de Montoya also appears to have overstated its size299 and indestructibility. However, the exact details of the cross and, subsequently, of Ruiz de Montoya and the Jesuits’ interpretations of the Saint Thomas saga did not matter as much as the doors that this saga opened. First, it allowed the Jesuits to share certain founding stories with the Guaraní and to use their own myths in the service of the Guaraní. Second, it pointed to the Jesuits as the successors of Saint Thomas300, or of whomever the prophet was in the Guaraní version of the story. Finally, it proved to be a key element that allowed the Guaraní to integrate themselves into the yerba mate trade. In The Spiritual Conquest301, Ruiz de Montoya himself claims that the holy apostle was the source of manioc, one of the staples of the Guaraní diet. In certain versions of Guaraní mythology manioc was part of the same gift from Sumé, alongside other types of food and medicinal plants302. It is dubious to claim that yerba mate was one of these medicinal plants, especially given that its origins are already documented in a separate myth, but that was the claim made by the Jesuits in the 1640s. Unlike the Twins myth, which is not necessarily incompatible with the Sumé myth, the Guaraní- 298 Astrid Windus, “The Embodiment of Sin and Virtue. Visual Representation of a Religious Concept in a Colonial Andean Contact Zone” in Sebastian Jobs and Gesa Mackentun eds, Embodiments of Cultural Encounters (Münster: Waxmann 2011) 105. 299 Ruiz de Montoya claims that the cross was seven and a half feet, where as it is estimated to have been closer to 6 (Bandelier, Cross of Carabuco 600). This is a significant difference considering the size of the average human male. 300 Eliane C.D. Fleck, “Em memória de São Tomé: pegadas e promessas a serviço da conversão do gentio (séculos XVI e XVII)” Estudos Ibero-Americanos 36 (No. 1, 2010) 79. 301 Ruiz de Montoya, The Spiritual Conquest 46 and 76. 302 Ganson, The Guaraní Under Spanish Rule 30. 86 prophet myth was fully compatible with Christianity303. Choosing to promote the Sumé myth rather than the Twins myth was a conscious effort to create some syncretic elements upon which to build a bridge between Catholicism and the Guaraní worldview; if it happened to lead to an escape from Ruiz de Montoya’s classification of yerba mate─which would be both socially and economically beneficial to the Jesuits─there would be no complaints made. Ruiz de Montoya’s ostensibly religious opposition to yerba mate may have in fact overshadowed a socio-economic rationale. Though the Jesuits were relatively new to the area, Europeans had been settled in the province since the mid-sixteenth century and the first encomienda grants in Paraguay date back to 1556304. Many of these settlers, finding themselves relatively secluded from the other Spanish colonies, adopted certain elements of native culture faster than their coastal counterparts. Within a few years of their arrival, Europeans in Paraguay adopted the use of hammocks, which offered protection against certain insects and snakes305, and residents of Asunción quickly paired this hammock use with that of yerba mate306. The herb quickly was identified as a potential cash crop by the settlers and its labour-intensive collection and transport made it a prime target for the encomenderos who had access to a relatively large and cheap workforce307. In 1611, the Jesuit lobby successfully pushed for a decree exempting the mission natives–those who had been successfully converted–from encomienda duty, creating heavy tensions between settlers and Jesuits who both felt that the others were 303 This likely explains why only one of the myths appears in contemporary chronicles. 304 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations 11. 305 Inga Wiedemann, “Brazilian Hammocks,” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 104 (No. 1, 1979) 105. 306 Domingo, Naissance d’une société métisse, 462. 307 Service, Spanish-Guaraní Relations, 85. 87 attempting to poach “their” natives308. Ruiz de Montoya’s stance against yerba mate was written in this context of Jesuit-settler conflict. Ruiz de Montoya’s position was also taken relatively early in the mission process. At the beginning of the missionary period, the main concern for Jesuits was to secure as many Guaraní as possible for evangelization and to assure the physical safety of the missions and their inhabitants. This meant conversations and negotiations with the native caciques, often exchanging conversion against protection from encomenderos or slave-raiding bandeirantes. Economic viability was not a primary concern until after the Guaraní victory in the Battle of Mbororé309 in 1641, widely recognized as the final consolidation of mission territory310, at least until the 1750 Treaty of Madrid. This final pushback, accompanied by the later approval311 by Spain in 1645312 to arm the missions313 meant a physical sense of safety for the Jesuits, who could only now truly focus on the economic viability of the missions. The Battle of Mbororé can also be estimated as a turning point in Guaraní agency as the outside threat was now greatly reduced and the Jesuits could no longer solely rely on enticing the Guaraní with the promise of a safer home. From that point on, the level of Guaraní agency trended upwards until the destruction of the missions. 308 Sarreal, The Guaraní and Their Missions 31. 309 The Battle of Mbororé was the last of the constant attacks from the bandeirantes between 1620 and 1641. 310 Dauril Alden, “The Undeclared War of 1773-1777: Climax of Luso-Spanish Platine Rivalry” The Hispanic American Historical Review 41 (No. 1, 1961) 55. 311 Robert Lacombe, “Trois Documents Français du début du XVIIIe siècle sur les Jésuites du Paraguay” Revue d’histoire économique et sociale 42 (No.1, 1964) 40. 312 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 42. 313 Royal approval was only granted in 1645, though the Jesuits had already clandestinely armed their missions in self-defence. 88 By defining yerba mate as an ingredient of witchcraft and a product of the devil, Ruiz de Montoya may have been attempting to influence legislators to restrict or eliminate the secular cultivation of the herb, which would have greatly reduced the demand for encomienda natives, as the other crops that could be cultivated in the area were significantly less labour-intensive. While this seems like a nearsighted approach in retrospect, Ruiz de Montoya was not an experienced missionary. He was born in a wealthy Peruvian family and indulged in many vices in his early life, only turning to the Society of Jesus in 1606314. He was used to the prosperous Peruvian colony and, like many of the Jesuits sent to Paraguay, was poorly trained on the specifics of the region. His approach was one designed to address the specific problems they were facing in the first half of the seventeenth century. Though yerba mate was defined as it was in Ruiz de Montoya’s writings, the Jesuits followed a different policy inside the missions with the Guaraní. Much like many other Guaraní cultural practices, the Jesuits found themselves powerless to stop it315. Guaraní themselves requested it, claiming that it eased their workload. By the 1620s, they were claiming that they needed it and that without it they would “weaken and die”316. At first, it was simply allowed; then the priests noticed that its consumption prevented “drunkenness and intoxication”317 which was beneficial to the missions. Eventually, in the 1640s after Mbororé318, the Jesuits entered the yerba mate trade themselves. The second half of the seventeenth century saw great development within 314 He would first travel to Paraguay four months later, in 1607. All biographical notes taken from the introduction to The Spiritual Conquest, by CJ McNaspy SJ. 315 Sarreal, The Guaraní and Their Missions, 37. 316 López, Economics of Yerba Mate 498. 317 Ibid. 318 López, Revolt of the Comuñeros 55. 89 the mission, mainly built on the profits made from the yerba mate trade and from breeding cattle319. As previously mentioned, the Jesuits were first able to domesticate the yerba mate tree in the 1660s; one of their crowning achievements, as none of the other settlers succeeded in domesticating the tree. After the Jesuits were expelled in 1767, the plantations survived only until the end of their life span, usually twenty to thirty years, as the Guaraní were not able to maintain the fickle tree and went back to harvesting the wild yerbales for all their yerba mate needs320. The domestication of the plant allowed the Jesuits to pay more attention to the yerba mate trade and to specialize in the production of caamini, the highest quality of yerba mate characterized by its smaller leaves, as opposed to the yerba de palos that was being produced elsewhere. This makes an important economic difference as trade restrictions and tariffs were set by weight and not by value; caamini was able to bring in much more money than yerba de palos. In 1747, one arroba of caamini was worth two to three times as much as an arroba of yerba de palos in Buenos Aires and in Santa Fe, and twice as much in Chile. Yerba de palos generally never even entered the Peruvian market, though caamini fetched about four times its Buenos Aires value321. In addition to the domestication of yerba mate, the post-Mbororé security allowed some of the Jesuits to devote more attention to science and medicine, an activity that contributed to both their prestige back home and their usefulness on the missions. The successful identification of a Guaraní remedy represented both a legitimization of 319 Lacombe, Trois documents français 40. 320 Sarreal, The Guaraní and Their Missions 226. 321 John J. Crocitti, “The Internal Economic Organization of the Jesuit Missions Among the Guaraní” International Social Science Review 77 (No. 1-2, 2002) 6. 90 their role as spiritual advisor/healer and a “new medicinal invention” in Europe, where people were happy ignoring the true origins of the remedy. The most prominent of these works of science is Father Pedro de Montenegro’s Libro primero y Segundo de la propriedad y birtudes de los arboles i plantas de las misions y provincia del Tucuman, con algunos del Brasil y del Oriente, published in either 1710 or 1711. In Jesuit style, the text is written in Spanish with Guaraní and Tupi words sprinkled in liberally322. At the rear of the book, a fifty page index of 109 native plants and their uses can be found, showcasing the level of care taken by the Jesuits to appropriately learn the native herbalism323. In writing such botanical works, Jesuits like Montenegro managed to somewhat detach the plants from their Guaraní roles and replaced these roles and meaning with pragmatic uses that could have an impact on the European market. In a way, their study removes them from the realm of witchcraft, that which is not understood or superstitious, and instead enters them into medicine, a hard science. Unsurprisingly, Montenegro does not condemn the use of yerba mate, he instead compares it to chocolate in its ability to help its inhabitants324. More importantly, Montenegro not only ignores Ruiz de Montoya’s demonic accusations, but he replaces it with another origin story, that of Saint Thomas’ donation325. The coming together of Guaraní and Jesuit worldviews on the issue of yerba mate is an early example of transculturation and of an implicit cultural negotiation where 322 Pedro de Montenegro SJ, Libro primero y Segundo de la propiedad y birtudes de los arboles i plantas de las misions y provincia del Tucuman, con algunos del Brasil y del Oriente, Biblioteca nacional de Madrid, 1710-11. 323 Ibid, 369-419. 324 Ibid 54-55. 325 Ibid. 91 the cultures did not clash as much as they blended together or adapted to each other. It is no coincidence that yerba mate remains a symbol of Paraguay, a country proud of its mixed Guaraní -European population and heritage. 92 Conclusion Forgotten Colony, Surviving Culture Over nearly 160 years, the Jesuit missions of Paraguay hosted a complex series of cultural interactions which resulted in the roots of a transcultural modern Paraguayan identity. Alongside the offer of safety from slave-raiders and encomenderos, the Jesuits managed to convince large amounts of Guaraní individuals to trust them with the offer of cultural concessions. This allowed the Guaraní to keep certain cultural practices and elements that were important to them while still gaining a Jesuit education in Biblical matters. The case of the Paraguayan missions offers an interesting scenario largely because of its geopolitical situation. As far as contact zones go, this one finds itself offering both parties an important amount of autonomy. Though the land was originally contested upon European arrival because of false rumours of wealth, the newcomers quickly realized that dreams of gold and silver were not to be on Paraguayan soil – nor in Paraguayan rivers. Combined with the reality of colonial world trade being centred on ports, the “island surrounded by land,” as Paraguay would come to be known in the republican era, presented very few economic incentives for potential settlers and therefore was not an important chess piece on the King’s board. This lack of priority meant that, from the sixteenth century onward, the region’s power dynamics were complex and ever changing. The region’s lack of desirability to settlers meant a larger opening to settlers outside the main conquistador dynasties from Andalusia, Castile and Extremadura, which in turn signified a wider diversity of settlers. Europeans from the Basque country, Valencia, Catalonia, Galicia and Navarre brought with them their own languages─and a certain tendency for disregarding a King that was 93 not traditionally theirs. The region was also open to other nationalities; Italians, Flemish, Dutch, Germans and Englishmen also all brought their own languages with them – and were not any more attached to the Spanish Crown. Even with this openness, the relative number of settlers in Paraguay was meager compared to other American settlements. This was especially true considering that the area was a relatively densely-populated indigenous area. Whereas many of the other densely-populated indigenous areas were either Crown priorities─Mesoamerica and the Inca Empire being prime examples─or relatively unexplored by Europeans until much later in Conquest─we can think here of the Mapuche of Chile─the Guaraní continued to live along the Upper Platine rivers as the Europeans consolidated their settlement in Asunción. The Aztecs and the Inca were also contacted relatively early, for their region, by large groups of disease-carrying men. Inland, disease had a much smaller effect on the Guaraní, allowing them to keep their numbers healthy. Another effect of being inland was the increased difficulty in subduing them by force. Mass weaponry and fortifications do not travel well up waterfall-filled rivers, especially with “hostile” groups watching carefully. Thus began an alliance by necessity between the European settlers and the Guaraní, described by Europeans as some of the friendliest indigenous groups that they encountered in the Americas. The alliance started off as a military alliance: the Guaraní were in conflict with some of the surrounding groups, often these same groups that had been attacking the settlers. Guaraní tradition stated that alliances are confirmed through blood relations and, needing to boost their numbers, the Europeans quickly began the task of populating the province with a new type of person: the half-European, half-Guaraní known as the mestizo. 94 As the area was of low priority to the Crown, it was also originally of low priority to the Church. A Diocese was created in 1547, but its incompetence quickly showed as its first half-century was characterized by an oft-vacant bishopric and a steadily low number of ecclesiastics. Coupled with the alliance’s easy access to Guaraní women, usually two to ten per European, the lack of religious oversight quickly turned the province into a sexual playground. The elevated birthrate, in turn, only served to reinforce the alliance between Europeans and Guaraní because very few European women were present in the province; the new mestizo generation was therefore mainly raised by Guaraní women. With this second generation, the Guaraní language was solidified as a shared language in the area. Already a shared language among the different river tribes and many of the Gran Chaco tribes of the area, Guaraní was passed down to mestizo offspring by the mother. By the time this generation was raised, Guaraní became the de- facto language of the region because the still-low immigration rate meant that very few peninsulares were being brought in and Guaraní-speaking mestizos would have access to positions of power. Guaraní eventually went on to become the official language of the missions, as the Jesuits not only found it to be of strategic use but also to be quite a beautiful language, as advanced and civilized as any of their own European languages. The Jesuits found the language to be of strategic use because the Guaraní accorded it such an importance. The Guaraní genesis myth differs from many of the world’s “Creation stories” because within it, we find human language to be created before even the planet on which we live. The so-called “Beautiful Words” went on to become a key element of the Guaraní worldview and using them was deemed as essential. The Jesuit use of the language allowed them to get on with their main priority, 95 evangelization, through spoken word and mass, as well as through song, poetry, and theatre. The Jesuits, though central figures in Paraguay relations from the early seventeenth century to the mid-eighteenth century, did not harbour great relations in the province with anyone except the Guaraní. They were only called in by a Dominican bishop─Alonso Guerra─in 1588 because the region was in desperate need of ecclesiastics: when he first arrived in Asunción, only three priests were active in the city. Nevertheless, as the colonial city of Asunción grew, it was the Franciscan order that educated most of the urban descendants of Europeans, as well as the Diocese. The Franciscans, known for taking a harder position towards the assimilation of Native Americans, believed that the Jesuits were conceding too much to the Guaraní and generally sided with the urban elites who kept their children in Franciscan schools. Urban elites, in turn, harboured ill-feelings towards the Jesuits because their economic livelihood was in agriculture. The settlers needed Guaraní to serve in their encomiendas for their operations to be successful, and mission-Guaraní were exempt from encomienda service. Resentment of the Jesuits grew as they became larger players in the local economy; their large workforce allowed them to produce more agricultural product and flood the market, which cut into the settlers’ livelihood. Before they worried too much about economic production, the Jesuits had two main concerns: consolidating the safety of the missions and planning out the evangelization of the Guaraní. The safety of the missions was an immediate concern, as they were still young when the bandeirantes began to strike from nearby Brazil. They managed to fight back, eventually winning the right from Spain to maintain an armed Guaraní militia, the only such Indigenous militia in America. As for evangelization, the 96 Jesuits first had to try to find commonalities between worldviews that did not share much. One religion was monotheistic with iconographic worship whereas the other was polytheistic and aniconic. However, the lack of similarities between the two meant that the same cultural practice could be used to satisfy both worldviews at the same time. By saying mass in the Guaraní language, the Jesuits were praising their God and the Guaraní were praising their God’s work─the language itself. The same applied for many other artistic practices: natural colours and flowery or feathery patterns on altars and crosses, dancing baptisms and Guaraní-language songs of praise. The path to syncretism was through art. That being said, the Jesuits also had to worry about maintaining the missions. The Guaraní traditionally lived in teýys, small familial units, and lived day by day. They had no concept of ownership or of saving. This way of life is unsustainable when thousands of people live on the same settlement and have the same nutritional needs. To cope with this, the Jesuits put the Guaraní to work on agriculture and on animal husbandry. This differed from the usual Indigenous labour institutions because the Guaraní lived in the missions by choice. If they found that what they were getting was not of equal value to what they were giving, they could simply walk out of the mission – and they often did. Poor job assignments or constant mistreatment often led to Guaraní returning to life in the forests. Another form of everyday resistance for the Guaraní was their insistence on being allowed to consume yerba mate. They believed that yerba mate was a stimulant and helped to ease their workload. Its use on the missions was a problem for the Jesuits, who had already referred to the herb as “the devil’s herb”. In reality, the Jesuits had simply misinterpreted yerba mate’s Guaraní donation myth. Nevertheless, the Guaraní 97 insisted on being allowed to use it and it also presented economic potential that other crops did not. The Jesuits were therefore pressured into changing their story and reporting that yerba mate’s donation was from Saint Thomas the Apostle. The Bible had claimed that apostles travelled the entirety of the world spreading the word, but the original church teachings never accounted for the new continent. Many ecclesiastics therefore spent considerable amounts of time in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries searching for traces of Saint Thomas─or Santo Tomé─in the Americas; he was the apostle who had travelled to India and was therefore most likely to have made the trip. When the Guaraní were discovered to have had an ancient lighter-skinned preacher named Zumé, the Jesuits made the association between similar names. They justified allowing the use of yerba mate by claiming that, in fact, it was not a demonic herb because it was not donated to the Guaraní by a pagan God but by Saint Thomas when he had first travelled the land in the first century. Similarly to what they did with yerba mate, the Jesuits co-opted many traditional Guaraní medicinal herbs and claimed them as their own medicinal discoveries. This gave them more legitimacy in Europe, but also in the missions, where they were trying to supplant the tribal karai whose dual role included both spiritual advising and healing. There is a lot to be learned from the Jesuit interaction with the Guaraní on their Paraguayan missions. It is a story of survival. The Jesuits were a young missionary Order constantly threatened by the local elites and the more established Orders in addition to the Guaraní who took advantage of the main card they held: the threat to walk out. Without the Guaraní, there would be no missions. The Guaraní were also threatened, however, by a changing world in which the new forces of power ostensibly had no interest in their way of life and in their culture. But the story of the interactions 98 between the groups is also one of cooperation. In the end, the success of the missions was dear to both sides. Though the two actors had different objectives, they managed to compromise on certain topics and bring together the cultures on others, assuring the prosperity of the missions, the evangelization of the Guaraní, and the survival of multiple important facets of the Guaraní worldview. 99 Appendix 1 Fig 1. Map of the Río de la Plata Estuary splitting into the Paraná and Uruguay Rivers. The Paraguay River later appears. The Tietê River can be seen branching off the Alto Paraná River near São Paulo. Taken from Lopez, Revolt of the Comuñeros 1. 100 Fig 2: Location of the Jesuit missions when compared to modern borders. Taken from PortalGuaraní.com. http://www.portalguarani.com/807_bartomeu_melia_lliteres/14756_la_madera_de_las_ misiones__y_la_utopia_tuvo_lugar_o_la_utopia_en_su_lugar_bartomeu_melia_.html 101 Fig 3: Statues of the Virgin Mary adorned in Ñandutí in the Churches of el Rosarío and Itaguá. Taken from Sanjurjo, Ñandutí 82. Fig. 4: Angel holding maraca, Santisima Trinidad mission frieze. Taken from Guillermo Wilde, “Imagining Guaranis and Jesuits: Yesterday’s History, Today’s Perspective”, ReVista, 2015. http://revista.drclas.harvard.edu/book/imagining- guaranis-and-jesuits. Page consulted on August 2nd, 2016. http://revista.drclas.harvard.edu/book/imagining-guaranis-and-jesuits http://revista.drclas.harvard.edu/book/imagining-guaranis-and-jesuits 102 Fig. 5: Braided Jesus. Taken from Bailey, Art on the Jesuit Missions. Fig. 6: Mate gourd. Photographed by author. 103 Fig 7: Metal and wooden bombillas. Photographed by author. Fig. 8: Yerba mate harvest and trade routes. The main yerbales surround Maracayú. No direct link is available between Asunción and Potosí because of the Gran Chaco. Taken from López, Economics of Yerba Mate 503. 104 Fig. 9: Modern barbacuá as used by the Isondú yerba mate company of Argentina. Taken from: Isondu Yerba Mate, Barbacua System, www.isondu.com.ar/en/barbacua- system/. Consulted on July 15th, 2016. http://www.isondu.com.ar/en/barbacua-system/ http://www.isondu.com.ar/en/barbacua-system/ 105 Appendix 2 The Foundation of Human Speech – Guaraní Creation Story transcribed by León Cadogan 1 The true father Ñamandu, the first one, Out of a small portion of his own godliness, And out of the wisdom contained in his Own godliness, Caused flames and tenuous mist to Be begotten. 2 Having emerged in human form Out of the wisdom contained in his own godliness, And by virtue of his creative wisdom He conceived the foundation of human speech. Out of the wisdom contained within his own godliness And by virtue of his creative wisdom Our father created the foundation of human speech, And caused it to form part of his own godliness. Before the earth existed, In the midst of primeval darkness, Before there was knowledge of things, He created the foundation of future human speech, And the first true father Ñamandu Caused it to form part of his own divinity. 3 Having conceived the origin of future human speech, Out of the wisdom contained within his own godliness, And by virtue of his creative wisdom He conceived the foundation of love of one’s fellow men. Before the earth existed, In the midst of primeval darkness, Before there was knowledge of things, And by virtue of his creative power He conceived the foundation of love of one’s fellow men. 4 Having created the foundations of human speech, Having created a small portion of love, Out of the wisdom contained within his own godliness And by virtue of his creative wisdom He created, in his solitude, The beginning of a sacred hymn. Before the earth existed, 106 In the midst of primeval darkness, Before there was knowledge of things He created, in his solitude, The beginning of a sacred hymn. 5 Having created, in his solitude, the origin of human speech; Having created, in his solitude, a small portion of love, Having created, in his solitude, a short sacred hymn, He pondered deeply About sharing the origin of human speech, About sharing the words of the sacred hymn, About sharing the love for one’s fellow men. Having pondered deeply, Out of the wisdom contained within his own godliness, And by the virtue of his own creative wisdom, He created those who could share his godliness. 6 Having pondered deeply, Out of the wisdom contained within his own divinity And by virtue of his creative power, He created the brave-hearted Ñamandu; He created him simultaneously with the reflection of his own wisdom (the sun). Before the earth existed, In the midst of primeval darkness, He created the brave-hearted Ñamandu. For the father of his future numerous suns, For the true father of the word-souls of his future numerous suns He created the brave-hearted Ñamandu. 7 Following these things, Out of the wisdom contained within his own divinity And by virtue of his own creating power, To the true father of the future Karaí, To the true father of the future Jakairá, To the true father of the future Tupá, He granted knowledge of godliness. 8 Following these things, The true father Ñamandu To seat herself opposite his own heart, Imparted knowledge of godliness To the future true mother Ñamandu. 107 The true father Karaí Granted knowledge of godliness To whom would seat herself opposite his heart, To the true future mother Karaí. The true father Jakairá, in the same manner, Imparted knowledge of godliness To the true mother Jakairá. The true father Tupá, in the same manner, To whom would seat herself opposite his heart, Imparted knowledge of godliness, To the true future mother Tupá 9 For having assimilated Divine knowledge from their own True father, After having assimilated Human speech, After having inspired in love Of one’s fellowmen, After having assimilated the series of Words of the sacred hymn, After having inspired themselves In the foundation of creative wisdom; We call these, also, The sublime true fathers of The word-soul, The sublime true mother of The word-soul. Taken from Peter Lambert and Andrew Nickson (eds.), The Paraguay Reader: History, Culture, Politics (Durham: Duke University Press, 2013) 17-20. 108 Primary Sources Aimé-Martin, M.L., editor. Lettres édifiantes et curieuses concernant l’Asie, l’Afrique et l’Amérique avec quelques relations nouvelles des missions et des notes géographique et historiques, Tome II. Paris : 1843. 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Albuquerque: University of New Mexico Press, 1991. Whitehead, Maurice. “From Expulsion to Restoration: The Jesuits in Crisis, 1759-1814,” Studies: An Irish Quarterly Review 103, No. 412; 2014/15. Pp. 447-461. Wiedemann, Inga. “Brazilian Hammocks,” Zeitschrift für Ethnologie 104, No. 1; 1979. Pp. 105-133. Wilbert, Johannes. Tobacco and Shamanism in South America. New Haven: Yale University Press; 1987. Wilde, Guillermo, “Imagining Guaranis and Jesuits: Yesterday’s History, Today’s Perspective”, ReVista, 2015. http://revista.drclas.harvard.edu/book/imagining-guaranis- and-jesuits. Page consulted on August 2nd, 2016. Windus, Astrid. “The Embodiment of Sin and Virtue. Visual Representation of a Religious Concept in a Colonial Andean Contact Zone” in Sebastian Jobs and Gesa Mackentun eds, Embodiments of Cultural Encounters. Münster: Waxmann, 2011. Pp. 93-114. Zajícová, Lenka. El bilingüismo paraguayo: Usos y actitudes hacia el guaraní y el castellano. Madrid: Iberoamerica, 2009. Catholic-Hierarchy.org. Father Thomas Vásquez de Liaño, http://www.catholic- hierarchy.org/bishop/bvasqdc.html, page consulted on May 15th, 2016. Portal Guaraní.com Bartomeu Melià Lliteres, http://www.portalguarani.com/807_bartomeu_melia_lliteres/14756_la_madera_de_las_ misiones__y_la_utopia_tuvo_lugar_o_la_utopia_en_su_lugar_bartomeu_melia_.html, Page consulted on September 30th, 2015. http://revista.drclas.harvard.edu/book/imagining-guaranis-and-jesuits http://revista.drclas.harvard.edu/book/imagining-guaranis-and-jesuits http://www.catholic-hierarchy.org/bishop/bvasqdc.html http://www.catholic-hierarchy.org/bishop/bvasqdc.html http://www.portalguarani.com/807_bartomeu_melia_lliteres/14756_la_madera_de_las_misiones__y_la_utopia_tuvo_lugar_o_la_utopia_en_su_lugar_bartomeu_melia_.html http://www.portalguarani.com/807_bartomeu_melia_lliteres/14756_la_madera_de_las_misiones__y_la_utopia_tuvo_lugar_o_la_utopia_en_su_lugar_bartomeu_melia_.html 
work_uqmnp5nvynhihj7b4x4t4p6kyq	----	RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 Performing Dumas. Architecture and Mise en Scène at the Château de Monte-Cristo Jesús Ángel Sánchez-García Art History Senior Lecturer at the University of Santiago de Compostela, Spain Abstract When Alexandre Dumas père was at the peak of his success and popularity, he was personally involved in the design and construction of the Château de Monte-Cristo (Port-Marly, France, 1847). The architectural and ornamental features of this lavish abode can be interpreted as a reflection of Dumas’ literary ambition, as a complex aesthetic portrait. Dumas’ mise en scène of his whole life as artwork prompted him to create an elaborate display of visual rhetoric, an interplay of images and words developed through a physical and allegorical relationship with a place now appropriated by and absorbed into his persona. It is essential, therefore, that information on Dumas’ life and literary career may be combined with an iconographic analysis as a means of decoding the meanings bound up in the spectacle buildings at the Château de Monte-Cristo. Contents Prologue Act I: Performing Dumas Act II: J’aime qui m’aime The curtain rises … and then falls Finally, we find ourselves before the château of Alexandre Dumas, a Monte Cristo no less famous than the novel to which it owes its name.1 Pitre-Chevalier, "Promenades aux environs de Paris. Marly-Le-Roy”, in: Musée des familles. Lectures du soir 11 (August 1847), 335. [1] The most productive period of Alexandre Dumas’ literary career, spanning the years 1843 to 1847, was undoubtedly the peak of his success and popularity. It was at this time that Dumas also promoted and became personally involved in the design of two buildings envisaged as stages upon 1 Unless otherwise indicated, the final version of this paper, including French texts, was translated by James Calder (freelance translator). The author also wishes to recognise digital resources on Alexandre Dumas held by Gallica (BNF) and especially the Société des Amis d’Alexandre Dumas (www.dumaspere.com). RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 which his dreams could be acted out: the Théâtre-Historique on the Boulevard du Temple in Paris, and the Château de Monte-Cristo, in nearby Port-Marly, Yvelines, both of which were completed in 1847. Though built for different purposes, they were both conceived as spectacle buildings, the former a manifestation of Dumas’ commitment to the revival of French theatre and the latter proclaiming the foundations and hallmarks of his own literary glory. Having reached the pinnacle of his career, Dumas decided to use stone as an alternative means of communication to pen and paper, his purpose in doing so to astonish the audience with new works of art designed to reflect and project his personality. [2] Dumas’ literary success and the financial security it brought him gave him the means to pursue his unusual interest in architecture, as a developer and even a co-designer. Material wealth presented the writer with an opportunity to derive pleasure from buildings he could feel were his own, something previously of no concern to him. Especially prominent in this new pursuit was the Château de Monte-Cristo, which in its capacity as his new place of private residence was inevitably more closely identified with its owner than the theatre space. In fact, as a means of projecting his subjective self, this luxurious and eclectic abode may be regarded in its near-indexical relationship to Dumas’ persona as a discursive tool for analysing strategies of expression and remembrance, an approach pursued by Harald Hendrix in his study of houses designed by writers who then lived in them.2 In accordance with Hendrix’s line of argument, the architectural and ornamental features designed for the Château de Monte-Cristo can be primarily interpreted as a reflection of Dumas’ literary ambition, as a complex aesthetic portrait. Although other narratives may be detected here, ranging from the self-regarding material expression of his individuality and uniqueness, to the desire to construct a creative haven, or the nostalgia- tinged evocation of his forebears, his entire contribution is underpinned by a manifest and ambitious desire to explore and draw on new and alternative means of expression to complement his literary work. [3] Viewed as a whole, Dumas’ involvement in the design and construction of the Château de Monte-Cristo can be seen as a response to an inner desire to explain certain key characteristics of his personality, particularly those most closely linked to his creative work as an artist. It is for that reason that the building should be interpreted as a portrait, one that is undoubtedly narcissistic in nature, as its outward appearance is noticeably bound to the folds of the various historic and artistic adornments that support it. At a time of personal success and security, Dumas’ interpretation of his whole life as art prompted him to create an elaborate display of visual rhetoric, an 2 The pursuit of artistic expression, as engaged in by writers who became personally involved in the architectural design and decoration of their residences, led in many cases to the construction of houses fashioned from dreams and unmistakably intended as monuments to their owners. Harald Hendrix, ed., Writers' Houses and the Making of Memory, New York 2008, 1-11. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 interplay of images and words developed through a physical and allegorical relationship with a place now appropriated by and absorbed into his persona. It is essential, therefore, that information on Dumas’ life and literary career may be combined with an iconographic analysis as a means of decoding the meanings bound up in this extraordinary abode,3 a place destined to pass into posterity as an interface for presenting himself to his public, just as the author had intended. Prologue [4] Both the origins and the design of the Château de Monte-Cristo are inextricably linked to the resounding success Dumas enjoyed with his serialised feuilletons in 1844, starting with Les Trois Mousquetaires, which first appeared in series form in Le Siécle on 14 March, and then with Le Comte de Monte-Cristo, published in the Journal des Débats from 28 August onwards. Overcome by the frantic pace of his work and his hectic social life, at the end of May that very same year Dumas beat a retreat from Paris to the nearby village of Saint-Germain-en-Laye,4 his idea being to rest for a short period of time. He stayed initially at the Pavillon Henri IV and 3 We are indebted in this regard to Georges Poisson, who first approached the connection between the houses of writers and their personalities by considering their theatrical elements and their scope as portraits. Georges Poisson, Monte- Cristo, un château de roman, Marly-le-Roi 1987; George Poisson, Les maisons d’écrivain, Paris 1997, 74-80. Other considerations are put forward by Christiane Neave and Hubert Charron, Monte-Cristo, château de rêve, Marly-le-Roy 1994; Michel Cazenave, Alexandre Dumas, le château des folies, Saint-Cyr-sur-Loire 2002; and most importantly by Claude Schopp in his exhaustive biography, Alexandre Dumas, le génie de la vie, Paris 2002, 392-409. The present paper was submitted to RIHA Journal on 7 June 2013. The publication of new documents, particularly upcoming and eagerly awaited volumes containing a copious amount of correspondence by Dumas - Correspondance générale published by Claude Schopp, correspondence that until now is limited to the years 1820-1832 and 1833-1838 (volumes I and II, Paris 2014 and 2016) -, should shed more light on details such as the relationships between Dumas and the architects and artists who worked on Port- Marly. 4 It was at this time, during which Dumas and his wife Ida Ferrier grew apart, that Dumas’ friend Gérard de Nerval spoke to him of the benefits of using Saint- Germain-en-Laye as a convenient retreat from the turmoil of Paris – among them the short train journey. Such advice played a decisive part in the shaping of the project for the creation of Dumas’ very own château. Nor was Dumas’ choice of retreat without personal coincidence: his grandfather, the marquis Alexandre- Antoine Davy de la Pailleterie, passed away there in 1786. The author’s most important biographers concur on these details: Alexander C. Bell, Alexandre Dumas. A Biography and Study, London 1950, 178-179 and 207-209; Schopp, Alexandre Dumas, 369-375; Schopp, "Saint-Germain-en-Laye et Port-Marly. Alexandre Dumas: instantanés d’une vie de château”, in: Sur les pas des écrivains. Balade en Yvelines, ed. Marie-Noëlle Craissati, Paris 2001, 147-153. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 befriended the chef Jean-Louis-François Collinet, who ran the hotel and restaurant there and who would help him rent the Villa Médicis two months later. It was during his stay at the Pavillon Henri IV, on the afternoon of 16 June to be precise, that the idea of building a house for himself first took root. Returning from a walk to Versailles, his eyes lighted on a small wooded hill overlooking the Seine at Port-Marly, a spot known as Montferrands and a propitious location for a country house.5 [5] Acting on Collinet’s advice, Dumas discussed his nascent plans with the developer and master builder Barthélémy Planté, who was living in Saint- Germain-en-Laye at the time.6 Working together on an initial draft for a one- storey house comprising an entrance hall, a living room, a study and two ensuite bedrooms, with the kitchen and wine cellars situated in the basement, Planté and Dumas drew up extended new plans.7 The addition of a main floor on which the writer could shut himself away revealed his desire to make the house more comfortable. However, his inclination for the mundane does not seem to have manifested itself in his initial plans, Dumas instead prioritising the creation of a place where he could take refuge and concentrate on his work. [6] With typical determination and vigour, he began acquiring the first plots of land that summer, investing in them the huge sums of money generated by his successful feuilletons. Such were the possibilities offered by the location that plans were extended even as the property began to take shape, the little country house he had originally intended to build eventually growing in size to become the Château de Monte-Cristo. It comprised two separate buildings – one in which to live and another in which to work (figs. 5 The circumstances of how Dumas came to his decision are described in: "Monte- Cristo", in: L’Illustration 261 (26 February 1848), 407-411; Charles Barthélemy, "Hors Paris. Monte-Cristo", in: La Semaine des Familles 7 (17 May 1879), 104-106; Blaze de Bury, Alexandre Dumas, sa vie, son temps, son oeuvre, Paris 1885, 224- 227. Poisson offers more in the way of detail in Poisson, Monte-Cristo, 7-17. 6 Planté was also the building contractor for a housing development known as Cité Médicis, a project begun in 1832 by Émile Péreire, the president of the Paris/Saint- Germain railway line and the owner of the Pavillon Henri IV and its grounds. As well as being mentioned in the aforementioned article in L’Illustration, Planté was incorrectly named by Bell as the architect responsible for designing the Château de Monte-Cristo: Bell, Alexandre Dumas, 209. 7 According to the article published in L’Illustration, Dumas set to work on the day after their first meeting: "He took a large sheet of paper, a pencil and a ruler, and set about drawing the plans for his house"; see "Monte-Cristo", 410. Charles Barthélemy has attributed this anonymous text to either Dumas himself or a close friend, which would explain why the account provided is so accurate: Barthélemy, "Hors Paris. Monte-Cristo", 105. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 1 and 2) – and a park à l’anglaise for his beloved menagerie, where he sought to recreate a sort of Paradise.8 1 P.B., Château de Monte-Cristo, Port-Marly. Engraving from: L’Illustration, 26 February 1848, 408 2 P.B., Châtelet or Château d’If, Port-Marly. Engraving from: L’Illustration, 26 February 1848, 409 8 A complete list of all Dumas’ pets and exotic animals, including dogs, monkeys, cats, parrots, a cock, a pheasant and a vulture called Diogène, is provided in Histoire de mes bêtes. Dumas said of his menagerie: "I love the solitude of earthly paradise, a solitude inhabited by animals. […] And there in my solitude at Monte- Cristo, lacking both Adam’s ingenuity and his garb, I had my own little Garden of Eden." Alexandre Dumas, Histoire de mes bêtes, Paris 1868, 12-14. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 [7] During its construction, Dumas was comfortably installed at the Villa Médicis, located on Rue de Boulingrin in Saint-Germain. His sojourn there may well have influenced his change of plans, as it allowed him to contemplate the beneficial effect that a house with a garden might have on his work.9 In fact, the aforementioned division of the property at Port-Marly into two separate buildings can be viewed as an enhanced replica of the layout of the Villa Médicis, which possessed a small pavilion or summer house, a favoured spot for writing in summertime: "All I need is my little stained-glass pavilion, against the wall of which I have placed a table, and which I use as a study in summer."10 It is likely that the satisfaction he derived from taking refuge in such a space revived in Dumas some fond memories, such as recollections of the remote study to which his relative Jean-Michel Deviolaine would often retreat, or of Charles Nodier’s apartment in the Arsenal Library, the setting for many famous soirées attended by Dumas and the emerging generation of Romantic writers.11 [8] Dumas was undoubtedly familiar with the topic of literary ermitages, an established tradition that dated back to the 18th century, at which time it was mainly associated with prestigious French writers.12 However, in projecting his recently acquired status as a successful writer, he chose to imitate other models of greater artistic ambition, ranging from Sir Walter 9 Dumas may well have pondered this very question during his stay in 1840 at the Palazzo Larderel in Florence (which he referred to as the Palazzo Lagestverde in his memoirs), which itself has a garden. Schopp, Alexandre Dumas, 339 and 387. As regards the reasons for his decision to build a château instead of a country house, these are discussed by Christiane Neave and Hubert Charron in one of the first papers to be written on Monte-Cristo: Neave and Charron, Monte-Cristo, 7. The key underlying factors in Dumas’ decision to abandon his original plan, a change motivated by his ambition and dreams, was earlier addressed by Barthélemy, "Hors Paris. Monte-Cristo", 104; and Théodore Gosselin, "Alexandre Dumas. Nos gravures”, in: Le monde illustré. Journal hebdomadaire 1389 (10 November 1883), 294. 10 Dumas, Histoire de mes bêtes, 74. Another reference to this "petit kiosque à verres de couleur", where he wrote Le bâtard de Mauléon, can be found in the same book on page 191. 11 Mr Deviolaine’s house in Villers-Cotterêts had a "delightful garden that was half English and half French". Dumas never forgot the cascades and pools that adorned the English section of Deviolaine’s garden and recreated them in his own way in his park at Port-Marly. Alexandre Dumas, Mes mémoires, Paris 1863, 237-238. Dumas’ presence at Nodier’s parties from 1829, coinciding with his first theatre successes, are referred to by Vincent Laisney, L'arsenal romantique: le salon de Charles Nodier (1824–1834), Paris 2002, 325-339; and Daniel Sangsue, "Rêves de gloire: portrait de l’écrivain en héros de roman (sur la célébration de Nodier par Dumas)", in: Recherches et Travaux 47 (1995), 63-78. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 Scott’s manor house at Abbotsford13 to the excessive and near scandalous luxury of the Parisian houses owned by the dandy Eugène Sue, who by that time had come to embody the most successful romancier-feuilletoniste.14 That said, Dumas’ approximation of a château, which is the title he decided to give his Monte-Cristo residence, possessed a certain sense of irony. As opposed to the great mansion Scott chose to build, Dumas opted for two buildings that were relatively small in size but which offered a clear contrast in terms of style: a main residence that was Renaissance in inspiration, and a modest pavilion to which he would retire to write and which was Gothic in influence. Despite this difference, each building is known as a château, a 12 In response to the Rousseauian doctrine of the return to nature, country ermitages became all the rage in private gardens. Rousseau even availed himself of them on occasion, staying at a house lent to him by Madame d’Epinay in the forest of her château in Montmorency (Château de La Chevrette), and at a pavilion next to the Château d’Ermenonville, where he spent his last days: José Cabanis and Georges Herscher, eds., Jardins d’écrivains, Arles 2002, 46-51; Sylvain Menant, "Maisons d'écrivain et histoire littéraire”, in: Revue d’histoire littéraire de la France 109 (2009), no. 4: Les maisons d'écrivain, 771-781. A number of treatises were written on this branch of landscape-garden architecture, reflecting its popularity. These included William Wright’s Grotesque Architecture, or Rural Amusement Consisting of Plans, Elevations, and Sections, for Huts, Retreats, Hermitages, Grottos, Moresque Pavilions, Green Houses …, London 1767; or John Claudius Loudon, An Encyclopaedia of Gardening, Comprising the Theory and Practice or Horticulture, Floriculture, Arboriculture, and Landscape-Gardening…, London 1822, esp. Part II, Book III. 13 Scott, as Dumas himself recognised, was one of his most crucial literary influences at the beginning of his writing career: Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapter CCLIII. Dumas admired the faithful way in which Scott reconstructed history in his novels, and it is evident that in terms of their lifestyles both were astute propagandists when it came to projecting themselves through the careful design of their houses, a trait discussed in detail by Bell: "Monte-Cristo was to Dumas what Abbotsford had been to Walter Scott. There is no doubt that Dumas, looked upon by his contemporaries and by himself as Scott’s successor, was moved by vanity to this grandiose imitation of the great historical romancer he so much admired – an imitation which was to cost him dear." Bell, Alexandre Dumas, 219. On the inspiration of the Middle Ages and, above all, on the appropriation of authentic historical pieces, in conjunction with replicas, at Abbotsford see Peter D. Garside, "Scott, the Romantic Past and the Nineteenth Century”, in: The Review of English Studies 90 (May 1972), 147-161; Stephen Bann, The Clothing of Clio: A Study of the Representation of History in Nineteenth-Century Britain and France, Cambridge 1984, 93-111; and Iain G. Brown, Abbotsford and Sir Walter Scott: The Image and the Influence, Edinburgh 2003. 14 Dumas mentions his friend Sue several times in his memoirs, and even devotes whole chapters to retelling his life story, in which he fails to conceal the fact he was dazzled by Sue’s success: Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapters CCLXI-CCLXIII. Dumas visited the luxurious houses on the Parisian streets of La Ferme-des-Mathurins and RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 term deeply ingrained in Dumas’ childhood memories and redolent of literary allusions.15 The explanation for this functional split lies in Dumas’ desire to combine, without one interfering with the other, two different aspects of his lifestyle: his life as a writer, for which he needed a refuge where he could shut himself away; and his life as a bon vivant, for which he required a place for throwing parties and hosting banquets for his friends. [9] The decision to build a château would appear to tie in with the Gothic revival in France. The increasing popularity Gothic art had enjoyed since the Bourbon Restoration was preceded and ushered in by the so-called troubadour style, a nostalgia-tinged development that grew out of the literature of the 1780s and spread from 1800 onwards into the visual arts, with subject matter and characters appearing in settings ranging from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance.16 However, in the case of Dumas, the revival of the château theme suggests a more obvious debt to the picturesque aesthetic and the garden as a scenery, given that Gothic- inspired buildings designed as garden adornments or follies began cropping up throughout Europe in the early years of the 19th century. 17 It is here that the first of several influences can be detected in the process that led to Dumas building his place of refuge and literary creation, presented more as a garden pavilion than as a genuine château. Staying faithful to this picturesque approach, which, as we shall see at a later stage, also extended to the eclecticism of the residential building, Dumas divested the Château de Monte-Cristo of all political connotations by avoiding styles and types of La Pépinière and was full of praise for Sue’s artistic taste, which paved the way for new trends in interior design by combining antiques and styles (ranging from the Renaissance to the Louis XV style, for example) and also paying tribute to the influence of the Orient. Dumas would follow such trends himself at Port-Marly, as evidenced by his use of antique furniture and the wonderful chambre mauresque: "[Sue] was the first to furnish an apartment in the modern style. He was the first to have all those delightful ornaments and accoutrements that nobody wanted at the time and which then became all the rage: stained glass, porcelain pieces from China and Saxony, Renaissance sideboards, Turkish sabres, Malay daggers, etc." Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapter CCLXIII. However, his contemporaries were very critical of Sue’s lifestyle, which contradicted his socialist ideas, as Eugène de Mirecourt stressed in Les contemporains. Eugène Sue, Paris 1859. 15 His first childhood memories were linked to the Château des Fossés, a small castle his family moved to not long after his birth: Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapter XVI. Though Dumas recalled little about the inside of the building, he had very clear recollections of the water-filled moat surrounding it. In addition to its asymmetric shape, Dumas may well have transposed this image on the Neo-Gothic building, which he would call the Château d’If, as will be discussed at a later stage. The names Monte-Cristo and If allude directly to one of his most famous novels, Le comte de Monte-Cristo (1844-1846). In particular, If evokes the Marseille fortress in which Dumas’ hero Edmond Dantès was imprisoned, a reference to France’s past and another of the means by which Dumas attempted to forge links between his buildings at Port-Marly and the settings found in his literary works. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 architecture that could be associated in some way with the manifestation of power. In doing so he distanced it from the buildings that had been constructed in France from 1815, which reflected the conservative morals associated with the restoration of the monarchy, and then from 1830, erected to encapsulate the legitimist aspirations and feudal yearnings of nobles who had retired to the country during the reign of Louis-Philippe.18 [10] Putting political meanings to one side, Dumas’ devotion to the English Gothic novel, from which he took some of his most recurring themes, such as the haunted castle, seem to have played a more significant part in this decision. Although the future Château de Monte-Cristo should be regarded as a welcoming castle, it also has fictional connotations due to its location in the middle of a wood, to its being hidden away in a remote and largely inaccessible place shrouded in mystery, an impression that is merely heightened by the dazzling way in which it presents itself to visitors.19 With regard to these literary motifs, it is interesting to note that Dumas deployed the selfsame typological and functional duality of a main fortified dwelling and a garden pavilion in one of his earliest novels, Pauline (1838). Here the eponymous protagonist finds a "pavillon isolé" amid an oak wood in a park 16 The spread of the troubadour or Gothic troubadour style as an alternative means of escaping to the past, a retrospective fad born out of an attraction to the so-called bon vieux temps (good old days), served a transitional purpose in the development of Romanticism, which manifested itself in the discovery of medieval poetry, the recreation of scenes from French history and the restoration of the knightly society. These all provided, at various times, different ways of looking back to a past removed from the ancient world, which in the case of France loosely encompassed the period from the Middle Ages to the Renaissance, as argued by François Pupil, Le Style Troubadour, ou la nostalgie du bon vieux temps, Nancy 1985, 9-27. It is thus linked to the specific development of the figurative and decorative arts, proving particularly popular with the upper strata of Parisian society from the 1820s, as was analysed by Albert Boime, Art in an Age of Counterrevolution, 1815-1848, Chicago 2004, 24-26; and Michael Marrinan, Romantic Paris: Histories of a Cultural Landscape, 1800-1850, Stanford 2009, 151-152. 17 According to comments quoted by Claude Mignot, Viollet-le-Duc in Entretiens sur l’architecture (1863-1872) would later pour scorn on the fashion for reducing châteaux to microscopic constructions, such as children’s toys and houses for pets. Claude Mignot, Architecture of the 19th Century, Cologne 1994, 51-52 and 68-69. 18 The obvious political aspect of these Romantic castles was pointed out by Mignot, Architecture of the 19th Century, 67; and Barry Bergdoll, European Architecture: 1750-1890, Oxford 2000, 166. 19 Angels Santa Bañeres discusses the presence of medieval castles in Dumas’ literary works, which range from the imposing to the abandoned and ramshackle: "Dumas Gothique: poètique de la demeure", in: Revue des Sciences Humaines 290 (April-June 2008), 71-81. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 belonging to the gloomy, imposing Château de Burcy, which sits in ruins on the Normandy coast. She later turns the pavilion into her "cabinet de travail".20 Dumas used the Gothic pavilion at Port-Marly for the same purpose, as a place of retreat in which he can work. Erected a little higher up than the Renaissance castle, which would become the main residence of the Château de Monte-Cristo (fig. 1), this châtelet would later be known as the Château d’If (fig. 2), taking its name from the fortress that sits on a small island in the Bay of Marseille and which also appears in the novel Le comte de Monte-Cristo. Act I: Performing Dumas [11] Such was the increasing complexity and scale of Dumas’ plans for Port- Marly – which reflected to some extent the unpredictable plots of the author’s serialised novels – that he decided to hire an architect, perhaps after suspecting Planté’s artistic shortcomings. The man he chose was Hippolyte-Louis Durand (1801-1882), a disciple of Louis-Hippolyte Lebas and Léon Vaudoyer at the Paris École des Beaux-Arts, where he had trained.21 20 Dumas, Pauline, Paris 1838, chapter XI. Santa Bañeres expands on this first appearance of what would henceforth become a recurrent motif: an apparently fragile pavilion that provides shelter from an imposing and foreboding castle. It is also interesting to compare it with the pavilion set in the English landscape garden at the Château de Raimbault, which is found in George Sand’s novel Valentine (1832) and is chosen by the main character as her refuge during the summer months: a "place of rest and delight", surrounded by climbing plants and a cascade. Santa Bañeres makes a pertinent connection between this dual castle-pavilion structure, with its special features, and the layout envisaged by Dumas at Port- Marly some years later. Santa Bañeres, "Dumas Gothique", 71-81. 21 During his training Durand was a logiste (participant) in the Prix de Rome in 1822, 1823, 1829 and 1830, and won La Grande Médaille d’émulation in 1830, according to the entries found in the Dictionnaire des élèves architectes de l’École des beaux- arts (1796-1939) – Base de données AGORHA/INHA – and the Répertoire des architectes diocésains du XIXe siècle – Éditions en ligne de l'École des Chartes (ELEC). Durand was a prominent figure thanks to his links with the Gothic Revival movement, and conducted studies for new churches in proportion to the number of inhabitants in the municipalities in question. Some of his designs were published in Durand, "Quelques considérations sur l'art religieux”, in: L'Art et l'archéologie en province 9 (1849), 13-16. His private commissions included the eclectic Villa Eugénie in Biarritz (1852-1855), built for Empress Eugénie de Montijo. He also designed the Théâtre de Moulins (1842) and worked in the bishoprics of Bayonne, Tarbes, Gers and Landes (where he was appointed diocesan architect), designing parish churches in Bayonne (1846) and Peyrehorade (1857) and the original chapel at Notre-Dame de Lourdes (1865-1872). Louis Hautecoeur, Histoire de l’architecture classique en France, vol. 6, Paris 1957, 324-325; Robin Middleton and David Watkin, Architecture of the Nineteenth Century, Milan 1977, 337-338; and Jean-Michel Leniaud, "Les constructions d'églises sous le Second Empire: architecture et prix de revient”, in: Revue d'histoire de l'Église de France 65 (1979), 267-278. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 Though accounts of the first meeting between Dumas and Durand on the hill of Montferrands vary slightly, the very first version was presented in much the same style as a well-known exchange between Louis XIV and the architect Jules Hardouin-Mansart, in which the king gave instructions for the construction of what was originally intended as a petit ermitage but which would later become the royal residence at Marly-le-Roi: On passing by one fine day, just as Louis XIV had done at Marly-le-Chastel, Mr Dumas was struck by the position of the hill. He bought it immediately, summoned Mr Durand, his architect, and said to him, while busy with the task of writing his serialised novels: ‘You are going to build a Renaissance château and a Gothic châtelet for me here, with two pavilions at the entrance and a park in the English style around them.’ – ‘Monsieur’, retorted the modern-day Mansard, ‘the ground is a bed of clay that will barely support the foundations’. – Mr Dumas was no more taken aback than Louis XIV had been. ‘Then dig down to the tuff’, he replied, ‘and make two series of caves’. – ‘It will cost you more than two hundred thousand francs, sir.’ – ‘When the cost reaches four hundred thousand, keep going.’22 [12] The architectural style of Dumas’ eye-catching buildings may be considered in the same light of the prevailing architectures painted in stage sets at the time, a link to which no commentator has previously drawn attention. The combination of Gothic and Renaissance thus mirrored the close relationship between sets and architecture that Louis Hautecoeur had referred to in attempting to explain the French Renaissance style that gained ascendency over the Neo-Gothic from 1835-1840.23 Set design and stage painting provide excellent means for exploring the relationship between stage art and architecture, another clear example of the fusion of art forms during the Romantic age.24 It should be remembered that due to the very complexities its use presented and the fact that its sheer scale could overwhelm developers, architecture was perhaps the medium least suited to the specific demands posed by Dumas’ quest for self- aestheticisation. In view of his proven experience in staging several of his 22 This well-known dialogue is taken from the first version, written by Pitre-Chevalier, "Promenades aux environs de Paris. Marly-Le-Roy”, in: Musée des familles. Lectures du soir 11 (August 1847), 335. It can also be found in Maxime Du Camp, Souvenirs littéraires, vol. 2, Paris 1882, 186; Hautecoeur, Histoire de l’architecture classique, 316-318; Neave and Charron, Monte-Cristo, 7; and Poisson, Monte-Cristo, 24-25. 23 Hautecoeur specifically mentions the painter and stage designer Charles Séchan as the artist responsible for the increasing influence of theatre sets in architecture and interior design in particular. Aside from Séchan’s collaboration at the Théâtre- Historique and the Château de Monte-Cristo, which are discussed in footnotes 76 and 77, there is also evidence that the architect Théodore Charpentier occasionally worked as stage painter, which would provide another example of the crossover between architecture and stage design. Hautecoeur, Histoire de l’architecture classique, 273-274 and 370-371. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 works, it is understandable therefore that in seeking to overcome the potential pitfalls of using architecture to project his cult of genius, Dumas should draw inspiration from painting – a field with which he was better acquainted – and from stage painting in particular. This was perhaps the most suitable medium for addressing the style and appearance of his buildings at Port-Marly, thanks to its themes, scale and visual impact. [13] With regard to the development of the painting of theatre sets and its landmarks, it should be noted that Dumas recognised the debt he and all Romantic stage painters owed to the pioneering role played by Pierre Luc Charles Ciceri (1782-1868) in the transformation of French stage art: Father Ciceri. All of you bow down before the old man, who remains gay and young at heart despite his 70 years. Bow down to him, all of you: Séchan, Diéterle, Despléchin, Thierry, Cambon, Devoir and Moynet, the kings, viceroys and princes of modern stage design: It is Father Ciceri who painted the cloister for Robert le Diable.25 Here, Dumas makes an explicit reference to the acclaimed cloister backdrop Ciceri painted for the opera Robert le Diable (1831), regarded as the highpoint of décor troubadour. As research by Catherine Join-Diéterle has shown, it was during the July Monarchy that the troubadour style started to give way to architectural representations that were more coherent with the desire for historical truth in stage design, both in terms of form and 24 The melodramatic staging of the works of Paul Delaroche, such as Jane Grey (1833) and Assasinat du duc de Guise (1834) has repeatedly been cited as an example of the connection between painting and stage art. The mutual collaboration between Delaroche and the playwright Casimir Delavigne is also documented, as is his use of miniature models, such as the ones he made for opera sets. These were sometimes created with the direct intervention of a set designer, such as Jules Diéterle, who provided the architectural backdrop in the portrait of the Duc de Guise: Boime, Art in an Age of Counterrevolution, 340-342. This interaction between historical painting and set designs during the Romantic period, in which painters such as Delaroche, Ingres, Delacroix and Hayez all played parts, is discussed in: De la scène au tableau. David, Füssli, Klimt, Moreau, Lautrec, Degas, Vuillard …, ed. Guy Cogeval and Beatrice Avanzi, exh. cat., Paris 2009, 118-194. 25 Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapter CCXXIV. Louis Véron’s arrival as the opera’s director proved decisive in the creation of this set, as did the support of Charles- Edmond Duponchel, an architect specialising in stage machinery, who shared Ciceri’s enthusiasm for medieval architecture – increasingly popular at the time – and encouraged Ciceri to travel to Arles to study the cloister at Saint-Trophime, as related by Marrinan, Romantic Paris, 257. This fashion for spectacular illusion in theatre sets, which grew between 1820 and 1840, was followed by Dumas and Hugo, who were both heavily involved in the staging of their plays. Catherine Join- Diéterle, Les décors de scène de l’Opèra de Paris à l’époque romantique, Paris 1988, 30 and 212-216; Susan Crabtree and Peter Beudert, Scenic Art for the Theatre: History, Tools and Techniques, Oxford 2005, 400-406. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 decorative details, which were copied from existing monuments, with Renaissance models being introduced.26 Carefully crafted backdrops and expressive lighting effects were overshadowed by the sheer spectacle offered by sets, to which Dumas had himself contributed in some of his early plays – Henri III et sa cour (1828), Christine (1830), Antony (1831). It should come as no surprise, therefore, that Dumas attempted to recreate the spectacular and eye-catching effect of theatre sets in presenting his buildings at the Château de Monte-Cristo. [14] Due to Durand’s initial misgivings about Dumas’ whimsical demands, the writer also had good reason to seek assistance from his circle of artist friends.27 This would explain the arrival on the scene of the painter Théodore-Henri Mansson (Rouen 1811 - Paris 1850),28 responsible for a number of drawings of medieval monuments, in the region of Normandy in particular, who may have been introduced to Dumas by some of his friends, such as the stage painter Charles Séchan (1803-1874). Séchan was an old friend of Dumas’ and gave him valuable assistance with his Théâtre- Historique and Château de Monte-Cristo projects.29 Dumas may also have met Mansson on his many visits to Rouen, one of which was made in March 1846. Given the fact that he specialised in the painting of landscapes and medieval monuments, Mansson’s collaboration would be especially timely in 26 These set designs became ever more prominent during the July Monarchy, from the small theatres on the Boulevard du Temple to the Académie de Musique, and marked a development towards vérité historique, which drew on the latest technical innovations such as gas lighting or the changing of sets in full view of the audience. Prompted by their interest in the Middle Ages, stage designers soon began to expand the range of styles they used, drawing increasingly on the Renaissance and the art of the 17th and 18th centuries and evoking a courtly atmosphere that would later extend to the interior decoration of the theatres themselves. An example of this is the auditorium of the Académie, redecorated by Pierre Luc Charles Ciceri in 1840. Catherine Join-Diéterle, "Évolution de la scénographie à l'Académie de musique à l'époque romantique”, in: Romantisme 38 (1982), 65-76; Join-Diéterle, Les décors de scène, 212-216, 224-226 and 233-236; and Mathias Auclair, "Les décors de scène à l’Opéra de Paris de 1810 à 1873”, in: De la scène au tableau, 215-225. 27 These friends, whom Dumas met when settling in Paris, helped him on other occasions, one of them being the well-known episode in which his rented flat was decorated for Carnival in 1833, with artists such as Eugène Delacroix, Louis and Clément Boulanger, Alfred and Tony Johannot, Alexandre-Gabriel Decamps, Louis Godefroy Jadin, Antoine-Louis Barye, Célestin Nanteuil and the stage painter Ciceri all lending their assistance. It was through Ciceri, peintre en chef at the Paris Opera from 1815, that Dumas would meet the most important stage painters of the Romantic period. Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapters CCXXIV and CCXXIX; also commented upon by Join-Diéterle, Les décors de scène, 26. For his part, Planté continued to work with Dumas as a developer until late 1846, when he sued the author for unpaid fees, prompting a lawsuit and the drafting of a specialist report, as commented on by Poisson, Monte-Cristo, 40. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 the design of the Gothic pavilion (fig. 3), as stated by an anonymous source in L’Illustration in February 1848: "Mansson, the delightful painter of all types of architecture, was consulted. He made an adorable model of a little Norman house, cut like lace and polished like a jewel."30 28 Mansson devoted his short career to painting the urban landscapes of his birthplace and medieval monuments such as Gothic cathedrals and churches, as stated in the list of his works provided by Émile Bellier de la Chavignerie and Louis Auvray, Dictionnaire général des artistes de l’école française depuis l’origine des arts du dessin jusqu’à nos jours. Architectes, peintres, sculpteurs, graveurs et lithographes, vol. 2, Paris 1885, 23-24. Following a visit to Cologne, his contemporary Lottin de Laval makes an enlightening reference to Mansson’s gift for depicting medieval urban landscapes: "There was a lovely Gothic house there. It looked like one of the houses drawn by Mansson, an artist with a magical ability to recreate the towns of centuries gone by." Lottin de Laval, Marie de Médicis. Histoire du règne de Louis XIII, d’après des manuscrits inédits du cardinal de Richelieu, et d’un bénédictin, Paris 1834, 316. 29 The drawings Cathédrale de Rouen, Manoir d’Escoville and Vue de l’abside de l’église Saint Pierre, Caen were completed by Séchan on a trip to Normandy in 1842 and exhibited at the Paris Salon that same year. For more on the work carried out by this "peintre-décorateur", mainly at the atelier he set up with Édouard Despléchin (1802-1871) and Jules Diéterle (1811-1889), see Bellier de la Chavignerie et Auvray, Dictionnaire général des artistes, 488-489; Jeanne Doin, "Charles Séchan et son atelier de décoration théâtrale pendant le romantisme”, in: Gazette des beaux-arts 758e livraison (1er semestre 1925), 344-360; and Nicole Wild, Décors et costumes du XIXe siècle, vol. 2: Théâtres et décorateurs, Paris 1993, 311, 313 and 341-343. The third volume of Voyages pittoresques et romantiques dans l'ancienne France contains more drawings of monuments in the same region by Séchan and other Romantic artists and stage painters, such as Théodore Géricault, Jean-Baptiste Isabey, Eugène Ciceri and Richard Parkes Bonington: Alphonse de Cailleux, Charles Nodier and Justin Taylor, Voyages pittoresques et romantiques dans l'ancienne France. Ancienne Normandie, vol. 3, Paris 1878. For more on the impact of this publication and, in broader terms, the perfecting of the art of lithography as a facet of the rediscovery and appreciation of the charms of medieval architecture and France’s rural landscapes, see Marrinan, Romantic Paris, 204. 30 "Monte-Cristo", 410. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 3 Châtelet or Château d’If, northeastern facade; part of Alexandre Dumas‘ Château de Monte-Cristo, Port-Marly, France, 1847 (photograph provided by the author) [15] Mansson contributed a sketch of a picturesque Norman house, a type of urban construction that he, Mansson, would have been very familiar with due to his family roots. The building would ultimately represent a move away from the rustic or cottage style more commonly seen in small garden constructions in the 19th century. It is noteworthy that this medieval typology reflected some of the architectural styles most widely used in theatre sets of the time, in which the urban landscape also played an important role. Sketches for these sets show several such houses with their trademark timber frames or pans de bois, jettied upper storeys and pitched roofs with dormer windows, such as the sketch that the aforementioned Séchan in collaboration with Feuchère, Diéterle and Despléchin drew for Constance Square, a setting in the first act of the opera La Juive (1834) by F. Halévy (fig. 4).31 31 Un carrefour de la ville de Constance en 1414, a colour lithograph (Bibliothèque nationale de France, Paris, Bibliothèque-musée de l’Opéra, Estampes Scènes Juive (6). Id. Numéro 42279088). The most distinctive medieval building in this painting also shows a corner tower quite similar to the one that forms part of the châtelet. Other similarities with stage paintings in the troubadour style (as researched by Join-Diéterle) may be found in the Parisian houses figuring in the backdrop painted by Charles Cambon, another of Ciceri’s disciples, for Louise Bertin’s Esmeralda (1836), acte II, tableau 1. Join-Diéterle, "Évolution de la scénographie”, 65-76; Join- Diéterle, Les décors de scène, 37 and 42. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 4 Charles Séchan, Un carrefour de la ville de Constance en 1414, part of the colour lithograph showing the backdrop for the opera La Juive, 1834 (reprod. from: Join- Diéterle, Les décors de scène, 37) [16] The stone-carved decorative elements adorning the windows of the main facades of the Château d’If are also medieval in inspiration. This particular repertoire borrows from French Flamboyant Gothic and, more specifically, from the motifs of civil and religious architecture, which Mansson was very well acquainted with thanks to his field trips and which he captured in his drawings and engravings.32 This could explain the shape of the ogee arches and gables and the flame-like tracery, which is inspired by Rouen churches such as Saint-Ouen and Saint-Maclou or the churches of Evreux, Louviers and Saint Riquier. Similar inspirations can be found in the festoons of the double window on the main facade, which are copied from the gallery of the church of Sainte-Madeleine in Troyes, and the rose window in the balcony and ledge of that same window, which are very similar to the rose windows found in the Palais de Justice of Rouen.33 The synthesis proposed by Mansson would have been to the liking of Dumas, who, instead of a replica of a historical building, sought a striking and original design that would surprise his guests and recreate a fragment of the Middle Ages, not unlike the scenes depicted on the theatre sets of the time. As regards the features that could perhaps point to the origin of the medieval appearance of the châtelet, Dumas was not only familiar with the Gothic architecture of Rouen, which he had visited several times – on a trip he made to Trouville in 32 The list prepared after Mansson’s death for the auction that took place on 27 February 1850 included urban landscapes taken in Evreux, Louviers, Rouen, Favières, Troyes, Amiens, or Abbeville. Bellier de la Chavignerie et Auvray, Dictionnaire général des artistes, 23-24. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 1831, for instance – but held it in great esteem.34 Moreover, in drawing on this source of inspiration, the author can be seen as paying homage to the Norman origin of his ancestors, the Davy de la Pailleterie family, which settled in Bielleville-en-Caux, Haute-Normandie, in the 15th century. [17] This means of combining a tribute to one’s ancestry with an admiration for medieval heritage has some significant precedents in the emergence of Romanticism on France’s cultural landscape during the early decades of the 19th century. Although Dumas would not have visited the visionary Musée des Monuments, which was put together by Alexandre Lenoir and which closed in 1816, by evoking medieval architecture he pursued the selfsame type of approximation – one more imaginative and sentimental than rigorous in nature – in rescuing elements from the past.35 While Lenoir had no compunction in resorting to invention when original items did not suffice – as in his recreation of the tomb of Éloïse and Abélard using other remains – the châtelet Dumas commissioned clearly demonstrates how elements copied from real buildings are inserted into a contradictory construction, with cultured traits being combined with aspects of popular architecture, resulting in a building that is small in size but striking all the same because of its sheer range of viewpoints and the combination of whimsical decorative motifs. All this points to it being a folly, a type of building that marks a departure from the trend towards historical accuracy and stylistic unity, which had emerged in French historicist architecture of the 1830s and 1840s, a time when knowledge of medieval art grew thanks to the first archaeological societies and the appearance of publications devoted to historical monuments.36 In this respect, the blend of originality and surprise that Dumas sought to impose as a hallmark of his Port-Marly residence proved more appealing to him than historical accuracy. 33 In these buildings, which provided the main subjects of several of his watercolours, Mansson achieved a level of creativity normally associated with Romantic painters. In Dumas’ châtelet he even added motifs that extended far beyond the Gothic aesthetic, particularly in the composition of the vase with flowers on the double window of the northeastern facade. For a comparison between these sources of inspiration and the decorative repertoire of Dumas’ châtelet see Jacques Baudoin, La sculpture flamboyante en Normandie et Île-de-France, Paris 1992, 55- 84. 34 "With its cathedral, the church of Saint-Ouen, its old houses and their carved woodwork, the town hall and the Hôtel de Bourgtheroulde, Rouen is a lovely city, so lovely that one yearns to see it again." Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapter CCV. 35 The links between fantasy and escapism in the past and the arrangement of exhibits at Lenoir’s museum were correctly identified by Dominique Poulot, "Alexandre Lenoir et les musées des monuments français”, in: Les lieux de mémoire, ed. Pierre Nora, vol. II.2, Paris 1986, 497-532; Pupil, Le Style Troubadour, 117-121; and Marrinan, Romantic Paris, 133-137. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 [18] Once excavations and earthmoving were underway in 1845, the confirmation of the existence of springs at the site opened up an altogether unexpected but rather attractive possibility of a water-filled moat reinforcing the isolation of this picturesque Gothic châtelet.37 This would be a way for the owner to impose man’s control over nature, a facet of his discussion with Durand, a tour de force in which Dumas once more followed the example set by Louis XIV. Moreover, the fact that building work coincided with the publication of Le comte de Monte-Cristo also influenced Dumas’ decision to locate the châtelet on an island. The shelter and refuge that Dumas often dreamed of emerged as a replica of the Château d’If, which appeared in the aforementioned novel and from which the replica borrowed both its name and its signification as a "prison" in which he could go about his everyday work.38 According to initial accounts, the interior design of the châtelet reinforced these images of confinement. Pointing out the contrast with Dumas’ hectic Parisian life, Pitre-Chevalier likened the place to an oratory: The interior of the châtelet will be decorated in the same way as the oratories of the queens of yesteryear: a high fireplace adorned with carvings of fruit and flowers, oak panelling with gold leaf mouldings, the leaves on 36 Mignot, Architecture of the 19th Century, 52-56; and Bergdoll, European Architecture: 1750-1890, 166-167. As regards civil architecture, Théophile Gautier ridiculed the nostalgic and dream-like reinterpretations of the Troubadour Style, in referring to its Middle Ages pastiches, while Charles-Augustin Sainte-Beuve, also in the 1830s, criticised the fashion for decorating aristocratic salons in the style of castle interiors, as pointed out by Pupil, Le Style Troubadour, 21-23. In contrast, the resources managed by Dumas may represent a middle way, one more consistent with the context of château restorations during the reign of Louis-Philippe, which were governed by a heightened desire for historical accuracy, as in Madame de Maintenon’s drawing room at the Château de Fontainebleau or in the interiors of the Château de Pau. These respectively followed decorative guidelines corresponding to the eras of Louis XIV and Henri IV, as noted by Marrinan, Romantic Paris, 156-157. 37 The presence of the moat together with the asymmetrical configuration of the corner turret have been interpreted by Xavier Blutel as an evocation of the image of the Château des Fossés, which was so deeply ingrained in Dumas’ memories of his childhood years. An extremely suggestive comparison between the side elevations of both buildings is revealed at a website devoted to Dumas’ strong attachment to Les Fossés: Xavier Blutel, "Les Fossés, matrice de l'imaginaire dumasien”, in: Château des Fossés (Alexandre Dumas), http://w3.litterature- lieux.com/EsMaker/index.asp?Clef=17&Page=3 (accessed 28 November 2011). 38 The intention had been to call the island Monte-Cristo, to make the reference to his literary output even more obvious: "Now, said Mr Dumas between dramas, and still very much in the manner of Louis XIV, ‘there are springs here […] make me pools here and there, and a river around the Gothic pavilion […]. I want it to sit on an island that will be called the Isle of Monte-Christo’." Pitre-Chevalier, "Promenades aux environs de Paris", 335. http://w3.litterature-lieux.com/EsMaker/index.asp?Clef=17&Page=3 http://w3.litterature-lieux.com/EsMaker/index.asp?Clef=17&Page=3 RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 the frieze being natural in colour, a sky-blue ceiling with countless gold stars […]. In the eastern turret Mr Dumas has set up a little study, where he will stay with nothing but a table, a pen and an inkwell for company […]. Next to the table, a gold button pushes – or so it is said – a steel spring that raises and lowers the island’s drawbridge […]. If a friend arrives, the portcullis comes up. If the visitor is unwanted, it stays down.39 [19] These first accounts detailing the fusion between architecture, theatre, painting and literature in the design of the spectacle buildings at the Château de Monte-Cristo also provide confirmation of the crossover between literature and the visual arts, a process that had been unfolding in France since the 1820s. In his early conversations with Durand, Dumas had already envisaged fusing the buildings with his own literary universe. This idea developed into a far more ambitious plan, namely the use of both constructions at Port-Marly as the supporting pillars of an elaborate iconographic programme centred on his self-glorification as a writer. 40 Through what is nothing short of a monument to his ego, Dumas sought to project his expansive personality by invoking his ancestors and patrons while also documenting, in a somewhat arrogant manner, the works that had brought him glory. Thus, and under his careful supervision at all times, the messages contained on the facades of the châtelet spread to the outer walls of the Château de Monte-Cristo, the setting for his epiphany as a writer through his rendering as an effigy accompanied by portraits of his literary role models. The sequence begins at the Château d’If (fig. 5), where the porch at the main entrance houses a sculpture of Dumas’ dog Mylord, a warning that continues a tradition initiated by the Romans. 39 Pitre-Chevalier, "Promenades aux environs de Paris", 335. 40 An interpretation shared by Schopp, Alexandre Dumas, 357. Hendrix has compared Dumas’ goals to those of another writer and eventual architectural designer, Horace Walpole. Both transported their fictional words to their places of residence as an alternative means of expressing their egos. In the case of Dumas, this is the purpose behind his most obvious intention of flaunting his unexpected success. Hendrix, Writer’s Houses, 2-3. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 5 Château d’If, northwestern entrance and sculpted details; part of Alexandre Dumas‘ Château de Monte-Cristo, Port-Marly, France, 1847 (photograph provided by the author) [20] In the same porch can be seen the title Le comte de Monte-Cristo, which is inscribed at eye level so that visitors cannot fail to see it. This first reference to one of his most outstanding literary successes is complemented by the titles of some eighty other works engraved on windows, door frames and ashlars, and which stand out on the reddish background of the facades and the tower of the châtelet. No pattern seems to have been followed in the distribution of these titles, which were engraved more or less as Dumas completed the works in question. These inscriptions lent the building another striking dimension, that of a work in progress, designed to be completed as its owner channelled his creative energy into the various literary genres that attracted his interest. The attempt to organise his works according to genres, which manifests itself in the inscription "ROMANS HISTORIQUES" above the windows on the western facade, failed on the other facades. The only groupings that seem to follow a pattern are the proliferation of novels and historical works flanking the entrance and the theatrical texts on the east turret. [21] The use of all these titles turned Dumas’ refuge and workplace into a showcase, the recording in stone of his literary output. Such inscriptions cannot be considered an entirely new development. Sixteenth-century French humanists showed their predilection for emblems and mottos by placing them in prominent areas of their houses, as Louis de Ronsard did on the facade of his family’s house in La Possonnière (Dépt. Maine-et-Loire), and Michel de Montaigne did on the beams of the library at the Château de Montaigne in Saint-Michel-de-Montaigne (Dépt. Dordogne).41 However, it is 41 Poisson, Les maisons d’écrivain, 22-23. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 the outer walls of the Library of Sainte-Geneviève in Paris that must have inspired Dumas to create a record of his output. The decoration of the library’s exterior, planned by Henri Labrouste following the start of construction work in 1843, involved the etching of the names of 810 writers on the main facades. These names were arranged in columns beneath the windows of the main floor, the aim being to use the most distinguished writers in the history of world literature as both ornamentation and an indication of the building’s function, while also establishing a physical correspondence with the volumes housed on the same floor, on the walls of the inner reading room.42 In the case of the châtelet, the etching of the title of each of Dumas’s works on a block of stone revealed their value as a financial support for the author and his whims, and gave concrete form to the suggestive and poetic metaphor of these works as a construction material for the building of his retreat – a creative haven built upon literary stories, books as the cornerstones of a castle of letters, as it were. These visual metaphors, based on the combination of words and images, are hardly surprising given Dumas’ career as a dramatic author who lavished as much care on the staging of his works as on the texts themselves, establishing a link with the aesthetic proposals of other Romantic writers, such as Victor Hugo, in affirming that the basis of language lay in images.43 [22] Thanks to the combination of literary quotations with yet another level of figurative representation, namely the bas-reliefs of characters and scenes from his literary creations, the Château d’If also served to illustrate certain passages from Dumas’ works, as though it were itself a theatrical adaptation. The use of theatrical staging techniques reveals a desire to create a spectacular effect and thereby attract the attention of his readers and audiences. A further comparison with Sir Walter Scott can be made here, for if the house at Abbotsford (Scottish Borders) was interpreted in a figurative sense by a number of commentators as "the Waverley novels in 42 Labrouste had earlier worked with Félix Duban on the construction of the facade of the Palais des Études, the central building at the École Nationale Supérieure des Beaux-Arts, work on which began in 1832. The names of different artists were inscribed on the frieze that runs above the ground floor of this Italianate facade, thereby continuing the tradition of expressive or talking architecture, which had emerged from the revolutionary architecture of Boullée and Ledoux. Labrouste’s interest in and use of inscriptions as architectural ornamentation, in connection with the image Hugo used of a building as a book in the chapter "Ceci tuera cela" in Notre-Dame de Paris (1832) – to which Labrouste himself referred – is explored by Neil Levine, "The Book and the Building: Hugo’s Theory of Architecture and Labrouste’s Bibliothèque Ste-Geneviève”, in: The Beaux-Arts and Nineteenth- Century French Architecture, ed. Robin Middleton, Cambridge 1982, 138-173. As regards the informative and symbolic meaning of the inscriptions on the library of Sainte-Geneviève, see Levine, "Il rovesciamento del sistema della rappresentazione nelle biblioteche di Labrouste”, in: Henri Labrouste, 1801-1875, ed. Renzo Dubbini, Milan 2002, 166-190; and Roberto Gargiani, "Ornamento e costruzione in Sainte- Geneviève”, in: Henri Labrouste, 1801-1875, 143-165. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 stone",44 Dumas’ chosen residence made his intentions very clear also, in that he transferred his works to stone, combining texts and images as a means of symbolising and incorporating literary meanings.45 The very first literary scene can be found on the ogee arch sheltering the entrance of the châtelet. The relief on the projecting keystone depicts the moment when Edmond Dantès uses a pick to ease aside the slab providing access to the cave where the treasure of the island of Monte-Cristo is hidden (fig. 5). This scene would seem to be an entirely fitting one, as it highlights the aforementioned connection between his highly acclaimed novel and the location of the châtelet. 43 While there is no information available to support this, Dumas may have been familiar with Christine de Pizan’s work Le Livre de la Cité des Dames (1405), where books and texts were used as building materials in erecting the city walls (I owe this suggestion to Rocío Sánchez Ameijeiras, to whom I am grateful for her tips on medieval art and culture). It should be remembered that Victor Hugo compared Dumas with an architect – "ce vaste et agile architecte" – and Dumas must have known of the aforementioned passage in Notre-Dame de Paris, in which his friend Hugo married these selfsame elements – books and architecture – in presenting the cathedral as a "book of stone", suggesting an image that opposed monumental architecture as a great book of humanity with its successor, the printed paper book, in the well-known line of argument that forms the basis of "Ceci tuera cela": Victor Hugo, Notre-Dame de Paris (1832), fifth book, chapter II. According to Léon Gozlan’s account, Dumas intended to name the avenues in his garden after his most important works, creating a forerunner of the literary theme park in the process: – "'But where will your park be?' I asked Dumas, having sorrowfully remarked that the size of the property was smaller than the imagination of the owner. – 'I told my gardener and you will hear it for yourself: it will be here. – Right here, where we are now? – Yes. – It will be very small, I told him. It will barely be any bigger than the foyer of the Comédie-Française. – It will be small, that is true, but it will be very literary. – What is a very literary park, my dear Dumas? - What I mean is that I will name each avenue after one of my works. There will be a Lorenzino Avenue and an Antony Avenue. – I understand, but that will create a lot of shade for walkers. – What do you want? Glory comes before shade.'" Léon Gozlan, "Le château de Monte-Cristo”, in: Almanach comique, pittoresque, drolatique, critique & charivarique pour 1848, Paris 1848, 29-38. 44 Brown, Abbotsford and Sir Walter Scott, 4-5; Ann Rigney, "Abbotsford: Dislocation and Cultural Remembrance”, in: Writer’s Houses, 75-91. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 [23] Another novel by Dumas, La dame de Monsoreau, serialised in Le Siècle throughout 1846, inspired a second scene on the lintel of the lower window of the northeastern facade (fig. 6). In it the fat friar Gorenflot is depicted riding an ass and raising his arms as if giving thanks. Flanking the scene is a transcription of the cheery song he habitually sings at the prospect of a good meal, creating a whole that represents a celebration of the enjoyment derived from good food and is very much in keeping with Dumas’ hedonistic character.46 45 As this section from L’Illustration 261 (26 February 1848), 411, shows, the quotations and literary allusions of the Château de Monte-Cristo did not go unnoticed for long: "A genuine novel in stone, one day of boredom in its design and three years in its execution […]. The poet as mason; he advised on new designs, traced out paths and diverted springs. On each occasion he spent in an hour what he had earned during the day, though as each day passed he returned to the house on the Place Médicis filled with even more happiness, a house he rented while he waited for his own to be completed." Pitre Chevalier, "Promenades aux environs de Paris. Marly-Le-Roy”, 335, gave his own reaction: "The idea was to create a novel […]. And the novel was created […]. On reading the inscriptions, a story unfolds, one in which Mr Dumas’ pen is the wand that builds for him houses of faith." Finally, Gozlan, "Le château de Monte-Cristo”, 35, commented: "Which architect in the world would have designed such a monument? The poet’s thoughts took shape and Monte-Cristo came into being. It is a monument in lines of syllables and alternate rhymes." 46 The inscription on the left reads: "The ass, escaped from bridle rein/ At once with joy pricks up his ears/ The wine, uncorked, with joy is fain/ To pour the ruby stream that cheers", and the one on the right: "But neither ass nor wine’s so gay/ As monk escaped from convent sway/ Who, seated in a vine-clad bower/ May safe defy the abbot’s power". (Translation taken from: http://www.archive.org/stream/ldamedemonsoreau00dumauoft/ldamedemonsoreau 00dumauoft_djvu.txt). Dumas, La dame de Monsoreau, Paris 1846, chapter XXVII). A close-up view of this relief was previously afforded by a wooden staircase that provided access to the first floor of the châtelet. Its identification, as well as that of Edmond Dantès, was proposed by Poisson, Monte-Cristo, 59. http://www.archive.org/stream/ldamedemonsoreau00dumauoft/ldamedemonsoreau00dumauoft_djvu.txt http://www.archive.org/stream/ldamedemonsoreau00dumauoft/ldamedemonsoreau00dumauoft_djvu.txt RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 6 Château d’If, window in the northeastern facade; part of Alexandre Dumas‘ Château de Monte-Cristo, Port-Marly, France, 1847 (photograph provided by the author) The intrados of the keystone, adorned with a relief of a hooded character, may well be another representation of Gorenflot, although the slim figure may more easily be associated with Diane de Méridor, rendered unconscious after falling from her horse, as she is portrayed in the third novel of the series, Les Quarante-cinq (1847-1848). The false ledge under this window superimposes an anchor – traditionally regarded as a symbol of hope – on the Flamboyant traceries. Beneath the anchor can be seen Cicero’s hope- filled maxim "Dum spiro spero", which Dumas used in the novel Le Chevalier de Maison-Rouge (1846).47 [24] There are further references to Dumas’ work in the east corner tower, though here they are combined with expressive motifs referring to his ancestors and some of the most influential people in his life and artistic career. The titles of his works, in this case his favourite dramas – "HENRI III", "CHRISTINE", "NAPOLEON", "ANTONI" and "CHARLES VII" – thus remain 47 The maxim appears in the dialogue Lorin and Maurice engage in upon seeing the scaffold erected for Marie Antoinette’s execution. Dumas, Le chevalier de Maison- Rouge, Paris 1845-1846, chapter XLIX. It should be added that it can also be seen in one corner of a portrait of Bussy d’Amboise – the main character of La dame de Monsoreau – displayed at the Musée des Ursulines in Mâcon: "Portrait of Louis de Clermont d'Amboise, dit Bussy d'Amboise (1549-1579)", in: http://www.culture.gouv.fr/public/mistral/joconde_fr? ACTION=CHERCHER&FIELD_1=REF&VALUE_1=01720002373 (accessed 4 December 2011). There is a reference to a portrait of Bussy, bearing the same proud gaze, in chapter XXXV of Dumas’ novel. http://www.culture.gouv.fr/public/mistral/joconde_fr?ACTION=CHERCHER&FIELD_1=REF&VALUE_1=01720002373 http://www.culture.gouv.fr/public/mistral/joconde_fr?ACTION=CHERCHER&FIELD_1=REF&VALUE_1=01720002373 RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 present. These are engraved on the ashlar stones inserted in the upper part of each face of the tower and run eastwards in chronological order (fig. 7). 7 Château d’If, east corner tower; part of Alexandre Dumas‘ Château de Monte- Cristo, Port-Marly, France, 1847 (photograph provided by the author) [25] Several capital letters are inserted above these titles, on the frieze beneath the eaves and amid the motifs of flora and fauna that provide it with its lavish decoration. Read in the same direction, they appear as "A", "D", "EA", "L" and "P". Far from being literary references, these could be allusions to people who played a decisive role in Dumas’ life through the friendship or support they showed to the author at various times. They are placed, as a result, as high up the tower as possible, level with the roof. The people referred to are either Augustine Deviolaine or Adèle Dalvin, one of his first female companions (A and D);48 his friend Étienne Arago ("EA" superimposed), who a few years earlier gave favourable reviews to one of Dumas’ first publications, the Nouvelles contemporaines;49 and finally King Louis-Philippe d’Orléans (L and P), his former employer and patron, who, in 48 If Augustine was his first childhood playmate, as Dumas himself states in his memoirs – Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapter XXI – it is arguable as to whether Adèle was his first love, as both Albine Hardi and Aglaé Tellier can also be regarded as possible candidates in this respect. Alain Decaux, Dictionnaire amoureux de Alexandre Dumas, Paris 2010, 229 and 401-413. In view of these doubts, there is another possible interpretation as to the origin of these two letters, namely that the initials are those of his father, Alexandre Dumas Davy de la Pailleterie. 49 As a grateful Dumas would recall in his memoirs, this was the beginning of a friendship that would grow even stronger when Arago was appointed director of the Théâtre du Vaudeville, and further still when they both took part in the revolutionary events of 1830. Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapter CVI. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 his capacity as the Duc d'Orléans, had earlier honoured Dumas by attending the premiere of Henri III et sa cour.50 [26] Although two other plays are featured on the main floor of the tower – "ANGÈLE" and "RICHARD DARLINGTON" – this level owes its prominence to a series of heraldic engravings devoted to the writer’s father, General Alexandre Dumas Davy de la Pailleterie, namely three (pseudo-)coats of arms situated on the keystones of the pointed arches of each window. Moving from west to east, the first of these coats of arms features a band surrounded by acanthus leaves, set in a field of gules,charged with three horses’ heads and accompanied by a pyramid and a palm tree. This composition was probably created by Dumas in tribute to his father; in it he combines figures alluding to the latter’s campaigns in Egypt, which included the Battle of the Pyramids, and to the three horses his father was forced to use during the Battle of Mantua.51 The leaves surrounding the second coat of arms bear the motto "DEUS/DEDIT/DEUS/DABIT", which was adopted by his father, while the arms themselves are of the Davy de la Pailleterie lineage – azure in colour, with three eaglets shown circling an annulet – as described by Dumas himself in Mes mémoires.52 His father’s motto appears again around the third coat of arms, in which the mast of a boat rises from an azure field. This can be interpreted as a version of the surname Dumas or Du Mas – based on the presence of the French homophone "mât" [engl. mast] – but also as an allusion to the ship that brought his father back from 50 The monogram "LP" may be found in some official portraits of King Louis-Philippe, such as on the throne appearing in François Gérard’s 1833 painting for the Chamber of Peers at the Palais de Luxembourg, which was so admired by the monarch that he had several copies of it made. Michael Marrinan, Painting Politics for Louis-Philippe: Art and Ideology in Orléanist France, 1830-1848, Yale 1988, 12-13. Owing to his republican beliefs and the active role he played in the July Revolution of 1830, which resulted in Charles X’s overthrow, Dumas’ attitude towards King Louis-Philippe alternated between gratitude for the support he once gave him to a desire to distance himself from the monarch, as the writer wrote in his memoires. In fact, Dumas had greater sympathy towards the king’s first-born son, Ferdinand-Philippe, Duc d’Orléans (1810-1842), who was much appreciated by the artists of the Romantic generation because of his artistic leanings. In spite of everything, and as a final showing of his debt of gratitude, Dumas travelled to England in August 1850 to attend the funeral of the former monarch, who died in exile. Schopp, Alexandre Dumas, 184-194, 356-357 and 436-437. 51 This coat of arms can be seen in one of the carvings that surround the châtelet’s fireplace, together with the arms of the Davy de la Pailleterie lineage, as Bell indicates, Alexandre Dumas, 221. 52 He describes his family’s coat of arms in the same chapter in which he recalls his father’s motto: "The family arms were azure with three golden eagles in flight, their wings extended, two situated above the other, with a silver annulet at the centre." Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapter II. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 Egypt.53 These coats of arms can therefore be seen as an attempt by Dumas to show his father’s noble lineage and narrate the high point and subsequent decline of the latter’s military career.54 [27] The remaining escutcheons carved above other windows of the châtelet feature the arms of several family alliances established by the Davy de la Pailleterie, a triumphant proclamation of Dumas’ entire lineage and complying so well with heraldic rules and guidelines that it can be safely assumed that the writer received advice on their design. There are three pairs of coats of arms, conjoined in fess. In terms of kinship they seem to be arranged in order of seniority. On the northeastern facade, above the window in the circular, turret-like section flanking the entrance, appears a blank coat of arms that was left uncarved. It is accompanied by one bearing the arms of the Pardieu family – gules, a saltire cantoned with four eagles.55 To the right of the main entrance on the western corner can be seen a first coat of arms, that of the Monginot – gules, a gold chevron between a lion and two stones, in place of argent mullets, and a bell between trefoils on a chief argent. On a second can be found the arms of the Du Bellay family – argent, a bend of fusils gules with six fleur-de-lis.56 Finally, above the lower window opening onto the lateral facade on the northwestern side appears a variant of the Cross of the Order of Malta – gules, a cross argent – and the 53 Although this version of the Dumas coat of arms is not very common, it is possible that it may have been copied from one of the engravings of Art heraldique in the Recueil des planches de l’Encyclopédie par ordre de matières, vol. VII, Paris 1789, pl. 10. A possible reason for this choice is the desire to depict the episode when General Dumas left Egypt on the ship La Belle-Maltaise, which was badly in need of repairs, an episode that ended with the general being taken prisoner and poisoned in Tarente, an unfortunate sequence of events that provides a counterpart to the triumphant first coat of arms of the series. 54 On General Dumas’ fall into disgrace and the mark he left on his son: André Maurois, Les trois Dumas, Paris 1957, 18-37; John G. Gallaher, General Alexandre Dumas: Soldier of the French Revolution, Carbondale 1997, 119-143; Schopp, Alexandre Dumas, 9-14; and Tom Reiss, Dumas, le comte noir. Gloire, révolution, trahison: l'histoire du vrai comte de Monte-Cristo, Paris 2013. 55 The coat of arms makes reference to the marriage between Pierre Davy, "Sire of La Pailterye", and Anne de Pardieu in 1570, according to the genealogical data provided by Gilles Henry, Dans les pas des… Dumas. Les mousquetaires de l’aventure: Normandie, Haïti, Paris, Bayeux 2010, 4-12; and Musée Alexandre Dumas, "Une famille: Les Dumas”, in: Histoire et généalogie axonaise 6 (2010), 8- 11. 56 The presence of these lineages is justified by the fact that Jacques Davy de la Pailleterie married Jacqueline du Bellay in the first half of the 17th century, the couple later having a son, Pierre Davy de la Pailleterie, who married Suzanne Monginot in 1694. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 coat of arms of the Davy de la Pailleterie once again, bringing to a close the series of heraldic symbols adorning the building.57 [28] The lower windows of the corner tower provide further embodiments of Dumas’ literary output, namely a series of figures in typical 16th-century attire. Seen in conjunction with the philosophical mottos surrounding them, their portrayal and the postures they assume allow them to be identified with characters from the series of plays Dumas devoted to the Valois (fig. 8). 8 Château d’If, sculptural motifs on the corner tower; part of Alexandre Dumas‘ Château de Monte-Cristo, Port-Marly, France, 1847 (photograph provided by the author) Their appearance in the iconography of the Château de Monte-Cristo creates a link with the revival of figures and scenes of France’s past, a feature typical of the literature and painting of the troubadour style, and shares with it a desire to humanise the way in which these characters are presented. 58 Moving from west to east, the first character, positioned next to the motto "AUT CAESAR/AUT NIHIL" and wielding a dagger, represents the ambitious and quick-tempered Duc de Guise, as revealed in scene IV of Henri III et sa cour.59 The main character is King Henri III himself, shown sitting on a throne and wearing his favourite cloak, with one of his beloved "petits chiens 57 The admission of several members of the Davy de la Pailleterie family to the Order of Malta is recorded in an 18th-century document reproduced by Henry, Dans les pas des… Dumas, 8. Dumas’ passion for heraldic signs manifests itself again at his house on the Boulevard Waterloo, Brussels, into which he moved in 1852. The ceiling in the main living room was decorated with coats of arms, along with those of other writers such as Chateaubriand, Lamartine, Hugo or Nodier. Schopp, Alexandre Dumas, 424-425. 58 Both literature and painting drew inspiration from the heroes of the so-called good old days, among them prominent French monarchs from Saint Louis through to Henri IV, a point made by Pupil, Le Style Troubadour, 459-481. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 anglais" on his lap and the motto "MANET ULTIM/COELO"60 and two crowns appearing on the same bend. These two crowns symbolise the kingdoms of Poland and France, over which he ruled. Finally, the character sitting on a throne decorated with the royal crown and the letter "H" could well be the court jester Chicot, shown in the act of writing and next to the motto "VIDEO/RIDEO".61 The three birds depicted on the keystones of the lower arches, and which spring from the rockery on which the tower rests, are connected with each of the aforementioned characters: the swan turning its neck beneath the Duc de Guise, perhaps symbolising his decline and death; the eagle with its wings spread beneath Henri III, also present in his coat of arms; and the watchful crane standing on one leg beneath Chicot. Act II: J’aime qui m’aime [29] This iconographic programme reaches its climax in the facades of the Château de Monte-Cristo, the main building of the property and designed as a residence and a place for entertaining guests (fig. 9). 9 Neo-Renaissance château, commissioned by Alexandre Dumas and named Château de Monte-Cristo, main facade, Port-Marly, France, 1847 (photograph provided by the author) 59 Dumas transcribes this motto in his novel Les Quarante-cinq, Paris 1847-1848, chapter LXI, when describing the portrait of Diane de Méridor’s father, who is depicted moribund on his death bed. The motto appears next to him, in red, as though written with blood. 60 The motto also appears in Les Quarante-cinq – chapter LXXIX – in a dialogue between the king and his jester Chicot about the Duc de Guise. 61 This ironic motto suitably characterises Chicot’s dual role as a jester and counsellor. With his long legs crossed and his head turned towards Henri III, he appears to be bearing witness to an attempt by the Duc de Guise on the king’s life. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 Its design can be attributed to the architect Durand, though always under the supervision and guidance of Dumas himself. Despite its name and style, it is not a château classique in the French Baroque tradition but a small palace that freely reworks examples of French architecture from the period between the 16th and 19th centuries. The main source of inspiration for the format may have been the Observatoire Royal, designed in 1667 by Claude Perrault for the city of Paris, which like the Château de Monte-Cristo has a square ground plan with two octagonal corner turrets on both sides of the front facade, in addition to a projecting rectangular section at the rear (fig. 10a).62 10a Observatoire Royal, Paris, ground view and elevation (reprod. from: Blondel, Architecture françoise, vol. II, book III, chapter X, pl. I) [30] The coexistence of this model, taken from the Baroque period and the era of Louis XIV in particular, with a medieval-style construction such as the Gothic châtelet must be viewed within the context of the increasingly eclectic direction architecture took in the 1840s.63 Buildings designed for gardens from the 18th century onwards provide, as stated above, another 62 The building, which still stands at the end of the Avenue de l’Observatoire, has barely suffered any alterations in terms of its original floor plan or size. Hautecoeur, Histoire de l’architecture classique en France, vol. II, 453-455. It is worth noting that this model was included by Perrault in his edition of Vitruvius’ treatise – Claude Perrault, Les dix livres d’architecture de Vitruve, corrigez et traduits nouvellement en françois, avec des notes et des figures, Paris 1673, book I, pl. II – and later in Jacques-François Blondel, Architecture françoise, vol. II, Paris 1752, book III, chapter X, pl. I, 57-61. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 possible framework for explaining the coexistence of such contrasting stylistic models, which would link the Château de Monte-Cristo with the playful character of these picturesque buildings, which were still in vogue in the nineteenth century, as the proposals compiled in Gabriel Thouin’s album confirm.64 There are in fact other features linking this construction with the tradition of erecting pavilions in parks and gardens.65 Apart from its small scale, both the general format and the small domes are reminiscent of the hunting lodge built for François I in the forest of Saint-Germain-en-Laye, not far from Port-Marly, and which was known as the Château de la Muette (Fig. 10b).66 63 Hugely influential, the Gothic style was accompanied from the 1840s by the revival of Renaissance and Baroque architecture, intensifying the crisis of the Classical model, which reached its climax – at around the same time as the Château de Monte-Cristo was built – with the controversy triggered by the Gothic-style project for the new church of Sainte-Clothilde in Paris (1846). This opened the way for the fusing of different styles from the past and provided the basis for eclecticism, as proposed by Hautecoeur, Histoire de l’architecture classique en France, vol. VI, 274-275. In fashion and painting it is also possible to detect contradictory approaches to the Baroque past, which were linked to a certain extent with the ambiguities of the political regime itself. This may be seen in old-fashioned, courtly-style stagings, such as the 1837 opening of the Galerie des Batailles de Versailles, an occasion on which Louis-Philippe dressed in the fashion of the 17th- century, wearing a wig inspired by Louis XIV, or in paintings commissioned by the king in the last years of his life, such as one showing the monarch and his sons leaving the Château de Versailles on horseback, with the equestrian statue of the Sun King in the background, painted in 1846 by Vernet. Boime, Art in an Age of Counterrevolution, 300-303; Marrinan, Painting Politics for Louis-Philippe, 205. 64 The similarity with the little palace in the print Jardin champêtre, with its two corner towers and the same projecting rear section, is noteworthy. Gabriel Thouin, Plans raisonnés de toutes les espèces de jardins, Paris 1828, pl. 21. 65 As stated in footnote 20, Dumas included this type of garden pavilion in several of his works. Another notable example can be found in La dame de Monsoreau (1846), on Méridor’s property, as described by Mme de Saint-Luc to her husband: "I am acquainted with the pavillon: two turrets linked one to the other by a corps de logis built during the reign of Louis XII. A simply delightful building." Dumas, La dame de Monsoreau, chapter XXII. 66 The building, construction of which began in 1542 according to Pierre Chambiges’ plans, took on its final appearance following Philibert Delorme’s intervention in 1555. A detailed overview of it, complete with the floor plan, elevation and sections, can be found in a recent edition of the sumptuous volume of drawings by Du Cerceau, held at the British Museum (Jacques Androuet du Cerceau, “Château de Saint-Germain-en-Laye”, 1570. British Museum, Prints & Drawings, Number 1972, U.822): Françoise Boudon et Claude Mignot, Jacques Androuet du Cerceau. Les dessins des plus excellents bâtiments de France, Paris 2010, 94-95. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 10b Jacques Androuet du Cerceau, Château de la Muette, Saint-Germain-en-Laye (reprod. from: Boudon et Mignot, Jacques Androuet du Cerceau, 94) Durand the architect may well have known of this lodge and of a number of follies built in the troubadour style, such as the Gothic-style Château de la Reine Blanche (1825-1826) in the forest of Chantilly, commissioned by the Duc de Bourbon from Victor Dubois; the "castel" commissioned by the Comte de l’Escalopier in Montmartre (1830); or the "manoir" Beauchène in Bois de Boulogne (1835). [31] The eclecticism of the main building at the Château de Monte-Cristo, which reflected the sheer variety of the cultural and artistic trends pursued in France in the period from 1830 to 1848 and interpreted the full range of national architectural styles, was perfectly captured by Honoré de Balzac: Ah! Monte Cristo is one of the most delicious follies ever built. It is the most regal sweet box there is […]. Had you seen it, you would have been smitten with it. It is a charming villa, more beautiful than the Villa Pamphili, as it looks out over La Terrasse Saint-Germain and the water […]. You simply cannot imagine it. It is as pretty and as beautifully embellished as the Anet gateway you saw at the École des Beaux Arts. It is well distributed. It is in short a folly from the time of Louis XV executed in the style of Louis XIII and boasting decoration from Renaissance times.67 [32] The decorative motifs deriving from the French Renaissance and which attracted Balzac’s attention can also be associated with the legacy of the troubadour style, which proposed the coexistence of themes and figures 67 Honoré de Balzac, Lettres à Madame Hanska, 1845-1850, ed. Roger Pierrot, vol. 2, Paris 1990, 943 (letter of 2 August 1848). RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 from the late Middle Ages with those of the early Renaissance.68 During the July Monarchy, the popularity of this trend grew as decoration became ever more luxurious, particularly in the architecture of middle-class city residences, while the historical buildings of the first French Renaissance were recreated in the theatre sets of the time. Dumas was no doubt aware of all of this and sought to give his Port-Marly residence a certain "parfum de Renaissance",69 which was highly appropriate in view of the works he devoted to the court of Valois. [33] Given that Dumas was heavily involved in the production of his plays, it can be assumed that he also gave instructions on the sculpting of the decorative bas-reliefs, which were inspired by the art of the 16th and 17th centuries. There is an abundance of these decorations, and the prevalent motifs are typical of the Louis XIII era: compositions a candelieri with vases, fruit, flowers, tritons and dolphins; garlands with trophies and musical emblems; tendrils combined with masks and fountains; and friezes with intertwining tracery and palmettes.70 In establishing a connection with the vogue for ambitious projects for restoring monuments, the aim of which was 68 This can also be seen in Alexandre Lenoir’s layout for the rooms of the Musée des Monuments Français, which were completed between 1793 and 1795. Questioning the traditional view that the reign of Louis XIV marked France’s artistic highpoint, this reappraisal seeks to exalt François I as a patron of the arts and highlight the artistic decline that took place following the Renaissance. Janet Cox-Rearick, "Imagining the Renaissance: The Nineteenth-Century Cult of François I as Patron of Art”, in: Renaissance Quarterly 50,1 (Spring 1997), 207-250. On the rise of François I features applied to country houses see Henry Russell Hitchcock, Architecture: Nineteenth and Twentieth Centuries, Yale 1977, 81. 69 The expression was coined by León Gozlan: "I have nothing to compare to this precious jewel, other than the Château de la Reine Blanche in the forest of Chantilly and the house of Jean Goujon in Paris. It has canted roofs, an outer balcony in stone and stained glass, windows, turrets and weathervanes, which rather indicates that it belongs to no particular period, neither to Greek art nor modern art. It has, however, a parfum de Renaissance, which lends it a particular charm." Gozlan, "Le château de Monte-Cristo”, 29-38. This allusion to Jean Goujon, together with the accounts provided by Pitre-Chevalier and Balzac, led some writers to mistakenly assume that the Château d’Anet provided the inspiration for the bas-reliefs at the Château de Monte-Cristo, a theory recently rejected by Poisson, Monte-Cristo, 53. For the possible sources and forms for Dumas’ fascination on Renaissance see Claude Schopp, "Dumas et l’homme Renaissance”, in: Cahiers de l’Association internationale des études françaises 64 (2012), 234-249. 70 This type of rich, bas-relief decoration had its origin in 16th-century Italian and French architecture, see Hautecoeur, Histoire de l’architecture classique, vol. I, 638- 657, and II, 187; Jean-René Gaborit, Sculpture française, vol. II: Renaissance et temps modernes, Paris 1998; and Flaminia Bardati and Sabine Frommel, eds., La réception de modèles cinquecenteschi dans la théorie et les arts français du XVIIe siècle, Paris 2010. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 to highlight the omnipresence of the past and the nation’s history, Dumas invoked and reworked the historical contexts he himself chose as the backdrop for some of his most successful works, as can be seen with Les Trois Mousquetaires, set during the reign of Louis XIII. [34] The use of the decorative elements of the time also provided an exquisite framework for the programme of self-glorification he had embarked on at the Château d’If, with this content reaching its climax in the Neo-Renaissance abode. The Davy de la Pailleterie coat of arms appears atop the composition formed by the staircase and main entrance, completed on this occasion with a helmet and marquis’ crown and framed by the motto "j’aime qui m’aime" ("I love he who loves me") (fig. 11).71 71 This motto was not coined, as it is often believed, by Dumas himself but was used rather by the Lorraine branch of the Croÿ lineage. Charles-Philippe de Croÿ, Marquis d’Havré (†1613), had this very motto carved on the fireplace in his Château de Fontenoy-le-Château (Vosges): "J'aime qui m'aime, vive Crouy" ("I love he who loves me. Long live Crouy"). M. Durival, "Fontenoy-le-Château”, in: Description de La Lorraine et du Barrois, vol. II, Nancy 1779, 225. Dumas had the coat of arms stamped with a marquis crown and the ornament of the weathervanes furnished with his grandfather’s mottos – "Au vent la flame! Au Seigneur l’àme!" ("To the wind the flame, to God the soul"). This banishes any doubt about Dumas’ wish to publicly proclaim himself the legitimate heir to the marquisate, a claim he sought to give credence to in his signature and through his writings. Given that Dumas was of mixed-race – the son of a Santo Domingo-born mulatto who was the product of the union between the plantation owner Alexandre-Antoine Davy de la Pailleterie and the black slave Césette Du Mas or "Dumas" – it is not surprising that at the height of his career he should choose to present himself in such a proud manner. Regarding the “aristocratic chimera” Dumas pursued through these signs of ostentation, please refer to the relevant remarks in Sylvain Ledda’s recent biography: Alexandre Dumas, Paris 2014, 242-244. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 11 Château de Monte-Cristo, entrance and top detail; commissioned by Alexandre Dumas, Port-Marly, France, 1847 (photograph provided by the author) [35] Protected by this latest reference to his aristocratic ancestry, Dumas gave orders for his effigy – depicted in a Neo-Baroque cartouche borne by two griffins – to be carved on the lintel of the main entrance. This self- regarding customisation of his residence, which, according to Léon Gozlan’s account, had not initially occurred to him, was completed with the initials "A" superimposed by two intertwining "D" positioned in front of the lucarnes of the domes, and repeated on the park gate. In addition to this decorative flourish, and with a view to proclaiming his glory even more overtly, Dumas decided to accompany himself with portraits of other writers, all of them represented on medallions flanked by griffins on the lintels of the main windows (fig. 12). RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 12 Château de Monte-Cristo, portraits of writers: Dumas, above; Corneille, Homer and Lamartine, below; commissioned by Alexandre Dumas, Port-Marly, France, 1847 (photograph provided by the author) [36] The facades of his Château de Monte-Cristo thus became a canvas for him to exhibit his canon of role models and predecessors, his own particular academy of writers, both dead and alive, perhaps as a means of atoning for his failure to gain admission to the Académie française.72 The series of portraits begins with Homer on the window above Dumas’ portrait, and continues thus, in a clockwise direction, on the windows of the ground floor, with each portrait accompanied by the name of the author: "DANTE", "WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE" and "LOPE DE VEGA" on the northwestern facade, "CORNEILLE", "ESCHYLE", "VIRGILE", "GOETHE" and "EURIPIDE" on the northeastern facade, and "CASIMIR DELAVIGNE", "CHATEAUBRIAND" and "ALPHONSE DE LAMARTINE" on the southeastern facade.73 72 It is not unreasonable to see this demonstration of aristocratic pride as a response to the brutal attack Dumas had suffered shortly before when Eugène de Mirecourt wrote a well-known defamatory piece on him: Fabrique de romans. Maison A. Dumas et Compagnie, Paris 1845. In creating this "canvas", Dumas combined the invocation of his literary role models with the remembrance of his family and patrons. This strategy of remembrance, which Poisson labels panthéonisation, is also pursued in the houses of other writers, such as Lamartine’s château in Saint- Point, in the so-called chéminée des poètes, which features portraits of his favourite authors, and on the hearth of the house in Guernsey where Victor Hugo lived during his exile. Poisson, Les maisons d’écrivain, 75. Possibly influenced by this models, in Spain, at the turn of the century Emilia Pardo Bazán included on the facade of Torres de Meirás some portraits of her favourite authors and titles of her major works. Jesús Ángel Sánchez-García, "Las Torres de Meirás. Un sueño de piedra para la quimera de Emilia Pardo Bazán”, in: Goya 332 (July-Sept. 2010), 228-245. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 [37] Original in both layout and decoration, the building was designed to exhibit Dumas’ success and exquisite taste. Above all, however, its expressive resources reveal his ambitious personality and search for artistic glory. Léon Gozlan captured this connection between owner and building perfectly by describing it thus: a building entirely in accordance with the ideas, the tastes and the plans of Alexandre Dumas himself, who has shown that his taste as an architect is as exquisite as his talent as a writer […]. It is the manifestation of a great spirit, of a higher artistic sensibility. It is the adorable mould of a dreamy and passionate soul.74 [38] Gozlan listed James Pradier (1790-1852), Antonin Moine (1796-1849) and Auguste Préault (1809-1879) among the artists who contributed to these reliefs and portraits, though the name of Jules Klagmann (1810-1867) should also be mentioned here. Klagmann and his disciple Ambroise Choiselat (1815-1879) had been hired for the parallel works undertaken at 73 Most of these authors were proposed in a letter to his son dated December 1840, with the exception of Lope, Eschyle, Goethe, Delavigne and Chateaubriand, according to Schopp, Alexandre Dumas, 347-348. The selection of portraits, a notable absentee from which is Victor Hugo – who is nevertheless wholeheartedly recommended in the aforementioned letter, along with Lamartine – would have been subject to changes and variations as construction work progressed, as some contemporaries pointed to the presence of other authors whose faces never came to be carved on the stone walls of the château. The accounts provided by Pitre- Chevalier and Gozlan confirm that following the opening party, which was held in July 1847, the carving of sculptures continued until early 1848. Pitre-Chevalier, "Promenades aux environs de Paris. Marly-Le-Roy”, 335; Gozlan, "Le château de Monte-Cristo", 35-37. 74 Gozlan, "Le château de Monte-Cristo", 29-38. In the same vein, it is worth recalling a later account by Gosselin, in which he emphasises the identification of the place with Dumas: "It is at Monte-Cristo where the memory of Dumas is more alive than anywhere else, believe us. It was his creation, his thing." Gosselin, "Nos gravures. Alexandre Dumas", 294. This identification began to attract the interest of devoted admirers and visitors, as some accounts after Dumas’ death confirm. In an attempt to explain the fate of the Château de Monte-Cristo, which changed hands several times, a journalist of the day described its transformation into a tourist attraction: "The garden gate rings and you run to open it, hoping to see the smiling faces of friends. You find nothing of the sort. It is either a tribe of English people, who have come to visit the celebrated writer’s house, or a gang of photographers anxious to take pictures of the building beneath each of its sides and who call you a ‘bourgeois pig’ if you object to their plan. No matter what you do, you are an intruder in your own home. The great man pursues you day and night like Banquo’s shadow: ‘Dumas, what have I done to you? Balzac, what do you want from me?’ It is unbearable. There is no option but to bring this ordeal to an end, sooner or later, by selling this house, one that has become a temple." Argus, "Chronique. Vente de Monte-Cristo”, in: La Semaine des familles 15 (13 July 1872), 240. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 the Théâtre-Historique, designing the striking facade, surmounted by an impressive arch and adorned with statues representing Tragedy and Comedy beside the entrance, as well as the pairs of statues of Hamlet and Ophelia and El Cid and Jimena on the main floor.75 [39] In another demonstration of the close links between architecture and the theatrical arts, the exquisite work of these sculptors was complemented by the expertise of the stage painter Charles Séchan and his collaborators in the design of the interiors at Château de Monte-Cristo.76 At the same time Séchan was also in charge of the architectural treatment, interior decoration and sets for the Théâtre-Historique, working throughout with Jules Diéterle and Édouard Despléchin.77 Séchan designed the murals, decorative friezes 75 "Théâtre Montpensier”, in: L’Illustration 200 (26 December 1846), 263-266; and Théophile Gautier, "Feuilleton de la presse du 15 février 1847. Théatres. Théâtre historique”, in: La Presse (15 February 1847), 1-2. Klagmann assisted with the external reliefs for the striking Maison Dorée (1839) in Paris, a luxurious Renaissance-style building on which the architect Victor Lemaire and the sculptor Pierre Louis Rouillard also worked. His most acclaimed work was the fountain in Louvois Square (1839), considered at the time as "the most beautiful in Paris, without question". Anne Pingeot, La sculpture française au XIXè siècle, exh. cat., Paris 1986, 310-326; and Françoise Goy-Truffaut, Paris façade. Un siècle de sculptures décoratives, Paris 1989, 11-23. 76 Séchan acknowledged this significant contribution in his memoirs: "I served him as an architect and interior designer, first at the Théâtre-Historique, then at his fantastic country house Monte-Cristo, near Saint-Germain." Charles Séchan, Souvenirs d’un homme de theatre, Paris 1883, 97. Séchan and his collaborators engaged in a series of other interior design projects, such as the house for the politician Edmond Adam in Golfe Jouan, the palace of the Sultan Abdul-Medjid in Constantinople, and several of the rooms at the casino in Baden-Baden, as related by Doin, "Charles Séchan et son atelier", 344-360. 77 Séchan was very actively involved in the restoration and renewal of the interior decoration and sets at a number of theatres in France and elsewhere: the Odéon and the Opéra-Comique in Paris as well as theatres in Lille, Versailles, Charleville, Saint-Quentin, Calais, Douai, Moulins, Avignon, Caen, Brussels and Dresden, as related by Bellier de la Chavignerie and Auvray, Dictionnaire général des artistes, vol. II, 488-489. Designed by the architect Pierre-Anne de Dreux or Dedreux (1788- 1849), a friend of Barthélémy Planté, the Théâtre-Historique opened on 20 February 1847, a major event on the Parisian social scene. The theatre was renamed the Théâtre Lyrique prior to its demolition in 1863. For more on the building and its history see Catherine Naugrette-Cristophe, "La fin des promenades: les bouleversements de la carte des théâtres dans le Paris du Second Empire”, in: Le théâtre dans la ville, ed. Elie Konigson, Paris 1987 (Les voies de la création théâtrale 15), 107-139; Philippe Chauveau, Les théâtres parisiens disparus, 1402-1986, Paris 1999, 371-377; and Jean-Claude Yon, "La naissance du Théâtre-Historique”, in: Cahiers Alexandre Dumas 35 (2008): Le Théâtre-Historique d’Alexandre Dumas. I. Le répertoire et la troupe, 16-44. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 and tapestries for Dumas’ château and even completed two paintings inspired by the novel Le comte de Monte-Cristo: Le château d’If vu de nuit and Le port de Marseille, vu de jour.78 Dumas himself controlled and supervised every aspect of the interior design of the house and its overall arrangement, reinforcing the view that he was a pioneer of the subsequent development of custom-built houses in which artists could both live and work.79 Along with buildings inspired by the Gothic and Renaissance styles, the interior design he pursued broadened the range of historic styles and reflected an aesthetic shaped by different artistic resources, one connected to the writer’s life and his literary career. [40] The first account of the interior arrangement refers merely to a few rooms and stated that decoration work was still going on in 1848. 80 These rooms included a great hall decorated in the style of the reign of Henri II, a Renaissance-inspired dining room, a Louis XIV-style library, a Louis XV-style boudoir, a study known as the salon perse, the salon cachemire, which 78 Alexandre Dumas, Lettres sur le magnétisme, Paris 1848, chapter III. 79 Particularly the artists of the Victorian era, sculptors, painters and even photographers, as revealed in the studies devoted to the subject by Mark Girouard, "The Victorian Artist at Home, I and II”, in: Country Life 152-153 (16 and 23 November 1972), 1278-1281 and 1370-1374; Giles Walkley, Artist’s Houses in London, 1764-1914, Aldershot 1994, 35-159; Julie F. Codell, The Victorian Artist: Artists’ Lifewritings in Britain, ca. 1870-1910, Cambridge 2003. Artists’ houses attracted growing public interest during the Victorian period and were the subject of books and illustrated newspaper articles in the second half of the 19th century, some of them offering biographical sketches and interviews showing the artist in their places of residence. A fine example of just such a publication is the book by Frederic George Stephens, Artists at Home (London 1884), among other publications referred to in various collaborations brought together by Jason Edwards and Imogen Hart, Rethinking the Interior, c. 1867-1897: Aestheticism and Arts and Crafts, Farnham 2010. Similarly, Dumas’ Château de Monte-Cristo was also the subject of newspaper reports to begin with, some of them accompanied by lithographs, such as those attributed to the aforementioned Gozlan, Barthélemy and Gosselin. Within this context of media exposure of the spaces where celebrities live and work, Dumas tapped into the fast-growing trend of customing houses, one that began in the Romantic era. In doing so he combined the outward exhibition of signs of distinction so beloved of the aristocracy with the more bourgeois concern with the internal decoration and furnishing of creative havens, as discussed in Marie- Clémence Régnier, "Le spectacle de l’homme de lettres au quotidien: De l’intérieur bourgeois à l’intérieur artiste (1840-1903)", in: Romantisme 168/2 (2015), 71-80. 80 Published one month after the opening party, Pitre-Chevalier’s account stated: "The apartments are small but well distributed. With the exception of the dining room and a Louis XV boudoir, all the rooms will be adorned with opulent wall coverings that Mr Dumas has brought from Spain and the East. His bedroom, meanwhile, will be bedecked with wonders befitting a sultan." Pitre-Chevalier, "Promenades aux environs de Paris", 335. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 housed Dumas’ arms collection, and the Moorish bedroom. Complemented by the guest rooms, these main apartments displayed a series of scenic recreations, similar to tableaux employed in staging plays, among which stood out the aforementioned bedroom, the so-called chambre mauresque or chambre arabe (fig. 13). 13 P.B., Château de Monte-Cristo, Chambre mauresque. Engraving from: L’Illustration, 26 February 1848, 409. [41] Following the fashionable Oriental style showcased at cafés, circuses, spas and private rooms since the 1830s,81 the bedroom also may be inspired by literature and even the theatre, as can be seen in the Moorish decoration or arcades of the Palacio de los Aragón in Zaragoza, the setting for the final act of Victor Hugo’s Hernani. The specific idea for this Arab bedroom came to Dumas during a trip he made to Spain and Algeria in 1846 and 1847. Dumas took furniture, carpets and draperies back with him to Paris, along with two Tunisian craftsmen, a father and son, who were commissioned to decorate a room inspired by the ornamental fantasies that the writer had seen at the Alhambra in Granada and at the restored monument of King Louis IX in Carthage.82 Located on the second floor, the room consists of a bedroom connected to the antechamber by three horseshoe arches. The walls and ceiling of this chambre mauresque are covered entirely with rich and complex plasterwork featuring a combination of geometric and floral motifs, with Dumas’ initials making yet another appearance. This example of Oriental inspiration completed the range of styles on view at the Château de 81 These exotic follies must be viewed within the context of a broadening of the Romantic cultural horizon. They tie in with Oriental associations found in spaces used for the purposes of leisure and pleasure, as pointed out by Claire Constans, "Les orientalistes et l’architecture”, in: Revue des monuments historiques 125 (Feb.- March 1983), 17-24; Mignot, Architecture of the 19th Century, 86-89; and Marie- Jeanne Dumont, Paris arabesques: architectures et décors arabes et orientalisants à Paris, Paris 1988. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 Monte-Cristo and was also a means for Dumas to express his admiration for the warmth of Arab hospitality, as if to make good the promise pledged by the affectionate motto J’aime qui m’aime. The obvious desire to invoke the pleasures and heightened sensuality of the Orient is undeniable, as Dumas sought out an idealised harem in which to enact his fantasies,83 yet another manifestation of the writer’s personal interest in blurring the lines that divided reality and fiction.84 [42] In conclusion, there is more than enough evidence to indicate that the work was carried out in accordance with Dumas’ taste and under his close supervision, the purpose being to create an artwork through both architecture and interior design, and thereby to reflect and affirm his personality.85 Dumas reinforced this identification between house and owner when writing his memoirs years later, likening the house to a nest: "Every bird has his nest made of grass and feathers. And every man has his house – 82 Alexandre Dumas, Le Véloce ou Tanger, Alger et Tunis, Paris 1848, chapter XXIX. Comparing it to the Alhambra or a scene from the Arabian Nights, those who saw the room agreed on the sense of wonder it instilled, hence this account from L’Illustration 261 (26 February 1848), 411– "On the first floor, the Arabian room, Oriental lacework, a copy of the Alhambra, a wonder that has no equal in Paris and which the father and son conclude in typically Eastern tranquillity, one of them stern, with his white beard and honest head, the other smiling with his white teeth and bright eyes." – or Gozlan, "Le château de Monte-Cristo”, 36 – "The work of this hired-out Turk [sic] is moulding of the like seen only in the Moorish ceilings at the Alhambra. It is a succession of cavities, in which the whole creates the effect and the illusion of lace, if ever the lace of Brussels were as light as this. I was struck with admiration. There is no single ceiling at Trianon comparable to the one the Tunisian has embroidered for Monte-Cristo." 83 In the letters relating his aforementioned journey through North Africa, from November 1846 to January 1847, there is a striking absence of any mention of harems, in which Dumas appears to have shown no interest, in contrast to the abundance of observations on the way of life of the people there. The fact is that artistic incursions into this forbidden area, such as those made by his friend Delacroix a decade earlier, had made their influence felt in reinforcing the idealised view the Western world had of these sensual places. These questions are specifically discussed by Boime, Art in an Age of Counterrevolution, 360-368. 84 The French writer Pierre Loti, and painters such as Frederic Leighton, Charles Cournault and Victor Madeleine were behind other 19th-century examples of erotic fantasies being transferred to artist’s living spaces, as argued by Nadine Beauthéac and François Xavier-Bouchart, L'Europe exotique, Paris 1985; Gina Greene, "Reflections of Desire: Masculinity and Fantasy in the Fin-de-Siècle Luxury Brothel”, in: Nineteenth-Century Art Worldwide 7,1 (spring 2008), http://www.19thc- artworldwide.org/index.php/spring08/108-reflections-of-desire-masculinity-and- fantasy-in-the-fin-de-siecle-luxury-brothel (accessed 10 April 2012); and Jason Edwards, "The Lessons of Leighton House: Aesthetics, Politics, Erotics”, in: Rethinking the Interior, 85-110. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 should he have a house, that is – suited to his character, his temperament, his fantasy."86 [43] Thanks to his talent as a stage director, Dumas drew on his passion for the theatre and his broad experience in staging his plays in developing the expressive possibilities of architecture and interior design to their full potential. Descriptive elements such as texts and figures were combined with diverse stylistic borrowings in order to create a personal setting. With the exception of his Oriental fantasy, this was all orchestrated in aesthetic terms according to the same successful formula: that of using national history as a framework, the couleur française that the writer proudly considered one of the most valuable assets of his literary output. 87 By means of a series of surprises that extend to the interiors of his magnificent château, Dumas gave the most appropriate dramatic effects prominence over historic faithfulness in attracting and fixing the attention of the visitor on the display he staged at both buildings at Port-Marly. While Goethe praised Dumas’ Henri III et sa cour by saying it was a play "made for the eyes",88 at the Château de Monte-Cristo Dumas created buildings intended to captivate people and catch their eye. The Château de Monte-Cristo can thus be seen as a landmark in Dumas’ life, constituting as it did an architectural celebration of his successful literary and dramatic career, and a reflection of his intense creativity and love of life. The curtain rises … and then falls [44] Dumas was at pains to make clear that everything at the Château the Monte-Cristo had been envisaged and laid out for his audience and his audience only, whose understanding he often appealed to during the 85 This is the view held when Dumas was at the peak of his success. Three years before Eugène Sue started to receive criticism for his lifestyle, Mirecourt scoffed at the interior design and furniture to be found at the Château de Monte-Cristo: "The main sitting room, adorned with golden, silk wall hangings, contained all sorts of artistic wonders, while the private lounge, or boudoir, had immense pieces of cashmere for curtains. It was a jumble of pictures, statues, Boulle furniture and bizarre oddities, all thrown together pell-mell from the ground floor to the eaves. There was a surfeit of sculptures and a profusion of mouldings. In the absence of taste, ostentation reigned supreme." Eugène de Mirecourt, Les contemporains. Alexandre Dumas, Paris 1856, 78. 86 Dumas, Mes mémoires, chapter CXVI. This reference to the concordance between the house and his personal fantasies must be viewed in the light of Dumas’ attempt to find other non-literary means of expression that tied in with the Romantic concept of the "correspondence of the arts", a concept which he himself championed: "Each man of art has in a neighbouring art form a counterpart who stands alongside him." On the implementation of these ideas on domestic interiors intimately linked to writers, and the role of the press in the dissemination of these complex scenographies see Marie-Clémence Régnier, "Le spectacle de l’homme de lettres au quotidien", 71-80. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 building’s construction, when he had a sign saying: "Le public n’entre pas ici" ("No audience allowed") erected at the entrance to his property.89 Welcomed with open arms by a writer at the height of his fame, it was an audience that flocked to the house-warming party he threw at his new château on 25 July 1847, a reception attended by almost 600 people.90 This opening was nothing less than a première, with Dumas starring in his own play as a guide and interpreter revealing to his friends the core concepts and meanings underlying the facades of his lavish abode. [45] Although the Château de Monte-Cristo would remain under construction for a little time following this triumphant opening, it was at last able to fulfil its function of reconciling the frenetic social life of its owner with his no-less- frenetic pace of work. It finally took on its long-intended dimension as a 87 Although none of its main characters are depicted anywhere, some of the ingredients in the success of Les Trois Mousquetaires (1844), such as the ability to create surprise and emotion or the skilful plot management, are highly appropriate to the study of the visual strategies displayed at Port-Marly. For a discussion of Dumas’ freely expressive and original interpretations of French history see Charles Grivel, "Alexandre Dumas, une écriture de l’histoire”, in: Alexandre Dumas, une lecture de l’histoire, ed. Michel Arrous, Paris 2003, 461-475; and Isabelle Durand-Le Guern, "Alexandre Dumas”, in: La fabrique du Moyen Âge au XIXe siècle. Représentations du Moyen Âge dans la culture et la littérature françaises du XIXe siècle, eds. Simone Bernard-Griffiths, Pierre Glaudes and Bertrand Vibert, Paris 2006, 823-829. Louis Barron discusses the presence of elements of wonder drawn from Dumas’ imagination for the purpose of seducing his readers: "Monte-Cristo is nothing but a house of pleasure, a very pleasing house possessing a Romantic and Renaissance style, built by the amiable Alexandre Dumas, at a time of wealth, of good humour and lavish dreams, and utterly appropriate to the fantasy of the agreeable tales of Queen Margot and the Dame de Monsoreau." See Louis Barron, Les fleuves de France. La Seine, Paris 1904, 314; and Julie Anselmini, Le Roman d’Alexandre Dumas père, où la reinvention du merveilleux, Geneva 2010. 88 According to Goethe’s words, recorded by Johann Peter Eckermann, Conversations de Goethe pendant les dernières années de sa vie: 1822-1832, vol. II, Paris 1863, 249; and also commented upon by Marie-Antoinette Allevy, Édition critique d’une mise en scène romantique. Indications générales pour la mise en scène de 'Henri III et sa cour' par Albertin [1938], reprinted in id., La mise en scène en France dans la première moitié du dix-neuvième siècle. Edition critique d'une mise en scène romantique, Geneva 1976, 7. 89 "Monte-Cristo", 411; and Poisson, Monte-Cristo, 25. 90 The news of the grandeur of the château, which spread by word of mouth and was reported on eagerly by the press, raised expectations similar to those generated a few months earlier by the opening of the Théâtre-Historique, on 20 February 1847, as evidenced by contemporary accounts collated by Poisson, Monte- Cristo, 53; Schopp, Alexandre Dumas, 383; and Cazenave, Alexandre Dumas, le château des folies, 38-43. RIHA Journal 0145 | 15 January 2017 creative refuge at around the same time, on 18 October 1847 to be precise, when, locked away in his Château d’If, Dumas began writing Mes mémoires , as if aware that a part of his life were coming to a close with those heady days of success.91 Shortly afterwards, following the 1848 Revolution and the end of Louis-Philippe’s regime, theatre audiences began to dwindle and Dumas fell into bankruptcy, a turn of events caused by the failure of the Théâtre-Historique, for which he was held legally responsible. Mounting debts and an unsustainable lifestyle led to the seizure of the Château de Monte-Cristo, which was auctioned off in May of that year, complete with all its furniture and objets d’art, although Dumas managed to buy himself enough time to continue living there until his departure for Brussels in December 1852. The last few seasons spent at Port-Marly thus gave the writer the opportunity to cast his mind back, while the resonance of his aesthetic portrait led him to look into the mirror and ponder the meaning of his life. Local Editor Anne-Laure Brisac-Chraïbi, Institut national d'histoire de l'art, Paris Reviewers Gérard Audinet, Musée Victor Hugo, Paris Claude Schopp, président de la Société des Amis d’Alexandre Dumas License The text of this article is provided under the terms of the Creative Commons License CC-BY-NC-ND 4.0 91 The Théâtre-Historique and the Château de Monte-Cristo both opened in 1847, the year regarded as the high point of Dumas’ career, in terms of his success and recognition, as stated by Schopp, Alexandre Dumas, 412-413. http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ Prologue Act I: Performing Dumas Act II: J’aime qui m’aime The curtain rises … and then falls 
work_urjxnvi55jal7ipxpboqqayntu	----	University of Birmingham ‘Un étrange moyen de séduction’ L'Estrange, Elizabeth DOI: 10.1111/rest.12170 License: None: All rights reserved Document Version Peer reviewed version Citation for published version (Harvard): L'Estrange, E 2016, '‘Un étrange moyen de séduction’: Anne de Graville's Chaldean Histories and her role in literary culture at the French court in the early sixteenth century', Renaissance Studies, vol. 30, no. 5, pp. 708- 728. https://doi.org/10.1111/rest.12170 Link to publication on Research at Birmingham portal Publisher Rights Statement: Checked for eligibility: 11/08/2016. "This is the peer reviewed version of the following article : L'Estrange, Elizabeth. "‘Un étrange moyen de séduction’: Anne de Graville's Chaldean Histories and her role in literary culture at the French court in the early sixteenth century." Renaissance Studies (2015), which has been published in final form at DOI: 10.1111/rest.12170 . 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Apr. 2021 https://doi.org/10.1111/rest.12170 https://research.birmingham.ac.uk/portal/en/persons/elizabeth-lestrange(0444fd63-8be9-4e69-a91f-ace5f4fd9e53).html https://research.birmingham.ac.uk/portal/en/publications/un-etrange-moyen-de-seduction(d59da761-f8f0-4927-be67-107927da0892).html https://research.birmingham.ac.uk/portal/en/publications/un-etrange-moyen-de-seduction(d59da761-f8f0-4927-be67-107927da0892).html https://research.birmingham.ac.uk/portal/en/journals/renaissance-studies(9815e2aa-48bb-4e7c-aa2a-e06f1e8085b2)/publications.html https://doi.org/10.1111/rest.12170 https://research.birmingham.ac.uk/portal/en/publications/un-etrange-moyen-de-seduction(d59da761-f8f0-4927-be67-107927da0892).html 1 “Un étrange moyen de séduction”: Anne de Graville’s Chaldean Histories and her Role in Literary Culture at the French Court in the Early Sixteenth Century1 In 1498 in Rome, Annius of Viterbo, published his Antiquities, a history of the world around the time of the Flood that purported to present the works of ancient authors previously thought lost. Annius’ motivation in creating the Antiquities was to defend the supremacy of the Roman Church, to promote his own home town of Viterbo, and to ‘prove that Greco- Roman consensus about ancient history had been a malicious forgery’.2 Although the text, written in Latin, was quickly denounced as a hoax by some leading writers of the early sixteenth century, Annius’ work proved immensely popular, especially in France where several editions were published between 1509 and 1515. Moreover, Annius’ text was mined by Jean Lemaire des Belges for his Illustrations de Gaule et singularitez de Troye, the three books of which were published between 1511 and 1513 and dedicated to three leading female rulers and patrons of the time, Margaret of Austria, regent of the Netherlands, Claude of France, future wife of Francis I, and her mother, the current Queen of France, Anne of Brittany.3 Despite the popularity of the Antiquities, it has been noted that ‘there were no literal translations’ of the text outside Italy, and the first of these only appeared in 1543.4 However, parts of Annius’ text are to be found in French translation in a little-known, early sixteenth-century manuscript made for Anne de Graville (c. 1490-1540). Anne de Graville was a bibliophile and author in her own right who became lady-in-waiting to Queen Claude in the early sixteenth century. Although well-known in her day, Anne de Graville has been somewhat overlooked by modern scholars of women’s literary interests. Therefore, in addition to bringing this early and unacknowledged translation of Annius’ text to light, my study also seeks further our knowledge of Anne’s literary interests and to consider how the 1 My thanks to Professor Emma Cayley and Professor Naomi Standen for their comments on earlier versions of this article. 2 Walter J. Stephens, ‘From Berossos to Berosus Chaldaeus: The Forgeries of Annius of Viterbo and Their Fortune’, in Johannes Haubold et al. (eds), The World of Berossos: Proceedings of the 4th International Colloquium on The Ancient Near East between Classical and Ancient Oriental Traditions, Hatfield College, Durham, 7-9 July 2010 (Wiesbaden: Harrassowitz Verlag: 2013), 277-89 (278-80). See also Anthony Grafton, ‘Invention of Tradition and Traditions of Invention in Renaissance Europe: The Strange Case of Annius of Viterbo’, in Anthony Grafton and Ann Blair (eds), The Transmission of Culture in Early Modern Europe (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1990), 8-36. 3 Marian Rothstein, ‘Jean Lemaire des Belges’ Illustrations de Gaule et singularitez de Troyes: Politics and Unity’, Bibliothèque d’Humanisme et Renaissance, 3 (1990), 593-609 (594-95). 4 Stephens, ‘Berosus Chaldaeus: Counterfeit and Fictive Editors of the Early Sixteenth Century’, unpublished PhD dissertation, Cornell University, 1979, 209 and 4. 2 presentation of parts of Annius’ text in illuminated manuscript form helped her to craft her place as woman writer at the French court.5 I begin by examining the immediate context of the production of Anne’s Chaldean Histories as a highly personalised gift from her husband Pierre. I then analyse the manuscript’s contents in relation to the emerging popularity of Annius’ text in France and the production of Lemaire des Belges’ Illustrations, before considering broader, courtly interest in the translation of ancient sources and Anne’s own literary tastes. Finally, I explore the manuscript’s decoration, particularly the representation of Anne in the frontispiece by a leading artist who worked for other patrons at the French court. Thus, this article will suggest that the Chaldean Histories was not only designed as an amatory token, but was specifically intended to flatter Anne’s intellect and to situate her – visually and textually – in the courtly, literary context in which she would later take a more prominent role. As such, I show that the manuscript may also have played a key role in shaping her interests in books and her pursuits as an author. More broadly, then, this interdisciplinary study of the Chaldean Histories contributes to the growing field of women’s roles in literary and manuscript culture at the French court in the sixteenth century. Anne de Graville: Author and Bibliophile Scholarly interest in the part played by aristocratic women as readers, writers and bibliophiles in late medieval and early modern France is now intense; research has revealed much about the works, patronage and collections of leading figures such as Christine de Pizan, Anne of Brittany, Catherine d’Amboise, Louise of Savoy and Margaret of Navarre.6 Anne de Graville, the third daughter of Louis Malet de Graville, Admiral of France, and Marie de Balsac has, however, been largely overlooked in modern scholarship, despite the fact that she produced two literary works for Queen Claude (1499-1524) and built up a substantial library of her own. Some twenty-five manuscripts can be placed in Anne’s possession on the basis of bindings, coats of arms, or inscriptions: some of these she inherited from her parents, others she commissioned or purchased second hand.7 The two works written at the behest of Claude 5 This article forms part of a much wider, monograph study into Anne’s library, her literary works and cultural milieu. 6 See for example the essays in Patronnes et mécènes en France à la Renaissance, ed. by Kathleen Wilson- Chevalier (Saint-Etienne: Publications de l’Université de Saint-Etienne, 2007) and in Livres et lectures des femmes en Europe entre moyen âge et renaissance, ed. by Anne-Marie Legaré (Turnhout: Brepols, 2007). 7 Some of Anne’s manuscripts are traceable because they passed to her daughter Jeanne, who married Claude d’Urfé, where they ended up in the d’Urfé library, see André Vernet, ‘Les manuscrits de Claude d’Urfé (1501– 1558) au château de La Bastie’, Comptes-rendus des séances de l’Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-Lettres, (1976), 120, 81-97. Mathieu Deldicque has recently argued that manuscripts thought to have been 3 were the Rondeaux, a reworking of Alain Chartier’s Belle Dame sans Mercy (1424), and a rhymed version in French of Boccaccio’s Teseida (c. 1330), entitled Le Beau roman des deux amants Palamon et Arcita et de la belle et sage Emilia.8 These works have recently been studied for their engagement with and contribution to literary trends at the French court, particularly the querelle des femmes.9 However, the manuscripts that constituted Anne’s library have received practically no attention in terms of what they can add to our knowledge of noble women’s reading and collecting habits in the early sixteenth century or what they can reveal about the ways that Anne interacted with, or imaged herself in, her manuscripts, as has been the case for other female readers.10 By focusing here on Anne’s copy of the Chaldean Histories I aim to pursue some of these lines of enquiry in microcosm. As a gift from her husband Pierre de Balsac, the Chaldean Histories has a singular status amongst Anne’s books, being neither a work of her own, nor a personal acquisition, nor an inherited item. The manuscript has, over time, acquired the epithet ‘the book of love’, based not only on certain inscriptions and declarations in the text but also on the fact that Anne’s union with her maternal cousin went against the wishes of her father.11 Their marriage has dominated the few accounts of Anne’s life, turning it into a tale of elopement, disinheritance and reconciliation.12 However, despite the book containing evidence of commissioned by Anne should in fact be linked to her mother. See his article ‘Bibliophiles de mère en fille: Marie de Balsac († 1504) et Anne de Graville’, forthcoming in a collection edited by Anne-Marie Legaré and Cynthia J. Brown. I wish to thank Mathieu Deldicque for sharing his findings and article with me. 8 The Rondeaux are preserved in one manuscript copy, Paris, BnF, ms fr. 2235; the Beau roman survives in six manuscripts: Paris, Arsenal, ms 5116 (presentation copy for the queen); Paris, BnF, ms fr. 1397; BnF, ms fr. 25441; BnF, ms n. a fr. 6513; BnF, ms n. a. fr. 719; Chantilly, Bibliothèque du château, MS 1570 (513). 9 See Mawy Bouchard, ‘Le roman “épique”: l’exemple d’Anne de Graville’, Études françaises, 32 (1996), 99- 107 ; idem, ‘Les Belles [in]fidèles ou la traduction de l’ambiguïté masculine: les Rondeaux d’Anne de Graville’, Neophilologus, 88 (2004), 189-202 ; Catherine M. Müller, ‘Jeanne de la Font et Anne de Graville, translatrices de la Théséïde de Boccace au XVIe siècle’, in D’une écriture à l’autre: les femmes et la traduction sous l’Ancien Régime, ed. by Jean-Philippe Beaulieu (Ottawa: Presses de l’Université d’Ottawa, 2004), 187-210 and Elizabeth L’Estrange, ‘Re-Presenting Emilia in the Context of the querelle des femmes: Text and Image in Anne de Graville’s Beau roman’, in Rosalind Brown-Grant and Rebecca Dixon (eds), Text/Image Relations in Late Medieval French Culture (Turnhout: Brepols, forthcoming 2015), 187-207. On the querelle more generally, see Rosalind Brown-Grant, Christine de Pizan and the Moral Defence of Women: Reading beyond Gender (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1999) and Helen Swift, Gender, Writing, and Performance: Men Defending Women in Late Medieval France (1440-1538) (Oxford: OUP, 2008). 10 See the references in note 6 above; in addition to Deldicque, ‘Bibliothèque de mère en fille’, Anne is discussed by Myra Orth, ‘Dedicating Women: Manuscript Culture in the French Renaissance and the cases of Catherine d’Amboise and Anne de Graville’, Journal of the Early Book Society, 1 (1997), 17-47. 11 In addition to the prologue, epilogue and decoration to be discussed below, the manuscript also contains the added inscriptions ‘Tout pour le mieux, vostre bon cousin et amy, c’est moi’ (fol. iv) and another presumed to be by Anne ‘Memoire que je me souvienne de ce qui m’avint le samedy huitième novembre, lissant dedans mon lit à Annet’ (fol. ir). 12 For a somewhat romanticised account of their elopement and Anne’s disinheritance, see Maxime de Montmorand, Une femme poète du XVIe siècle. Anne de Graville: sa famille, sa vie, son œuvre, sa postérité (Paris: Picard, 1917), 62-85. The Chaldean Histories is also discussed in relation to Anne’s marriage in Paul 4 Pierre’s admiration and love for Anne, her biographers and previous cataloguers of the manuscript have suggested that the contents – the supposed historical writings of Berosus the Chaldean – would appear to be at odds with the notion of a ‘book of love’. In his biography of Anne, Maxime de Montmorand called the book ‘le singulier cadeau à faire à la femme aimée, et l’étrange moyen de séduction!’.13 Yet Pierre’s decision to offer Anne this particular text has also been taken as evidence of Anne’s erudition and learning. Therefore, it is precisely the combination of Anne and Pierre’s story, this choice of text and its presentation, and Anne’s literary interests that will be analysed here in order to situate the Chaldean Histories both within her personal collection and within the wider trends of her courtly milieu. The Manuscript of the Chaldean Histories and its Source Anne’s manuscript of the Chaldean Histories has attracted little attention, despite being on deposit at the British Library as part of the Thomas Phillipps collection from 1949 until it was withdrawn for sale in 2006.14 In 2006, the manuscript was sold by Christie’s, but reappeared on the market again in 2014 at Les Enluminures, Paris, where it formed part of the exhibition ‘Au parler que m’aprist ma mere’: Flowering of Medieval French Literature.15 The manuscript consists of seventy-seven folios written in a rounded, humanistic hand and opens with a full-page miniature in which a Renaissance-style architectural frame surrounds the depiction of a woman dressed in a sumptuous red dress with a black headdress reminiscent of the Breton style popularised by Anne of Brittany at the French court in the late fifteenth and early sixteenth century (fig. 1). The woman is seated on a large chair behind which is a blue, tent-like structure; two women lead a group of other men and women into the space behind her chair. The central figure extends her right hand towards a black book that is being offered from the left hand side of the image by a disembodied hand, directed by a small putto that emerges from a swirl of blue clouds. The banderol that unfurls between the book and the top of the woman’s chair bears the words IEN GUARDE UN LEAL (j’en garde un leal), an Durrieu, ‘Les manuscrits à peintures de la bibliothèque de Sir Thomas Phillipps à Cheltenham’, Bibliothèque de l’Ecole des chartes, 50 (1889), 381-342 (430). 13 de Montmorand, Une femme poète, 69. 14 The manuscript was acquired by the book collector Thomas Phillipps (1792-1872) and deposited on indefinite loan at the British Library by Phillipps’ descendant Mr Alan G. Fenwick and the Trustees of the Fenwick settlement. My thanks to Dr Arnold Hunt of the British Library for this information. For further details on the manuscript’s ownership history, see the entry in ‘Au parler que m’aprist ma mere’: Flowering of Medieval French Literature, ed. Sandra Hindman and Ariane Bergeron-Foote (London: Paul Holberton, 2014), 181; 184. 15 Paris, 2-26 April 2014 and Chicago 13-20 May 2014. I am very grateful to Sandra Hindman and Charlotte Stovell of Les Enluminures for allowing me to study and photograph this manuscript in detail. 5 anagram of ‘Anne de Graville’ which is found in several other manuscripts associated with Anne.16 Another banderol around the book reads NON PLUS and [A] AMOUR, and at the top and bottom of the architectural frame further inscriptions read NON PLUS; the Graville arms, de gueules à trois fermaux d’or, are found at the bottom of the frame surrounded by two putti who hold another scroll with the words A AUTRE NON. On the facing page, the text opens with the words ‘A vous mademoiselle Anne de Gravile [sic]’ and the border is decorated with banderols that repeat the NON PLUS, A AUTRE NON and A AMOUR mottos around large letter As, suggesting a pun on the preposition à and the first letter of Anne’s name (fig. 1). This same decoration is repeated at chapter divisions in the manuscript (fig. 2), and the NON PLUS and A AUTRE NON mottos also appear at subdivisions in the text where they surround the letter A in the margins (fig. 3). I will return to this decoration and the dedicatory text below, but here we can conclude that the woman represented in the miniature is Anne herself and that the book she is receiving from the disembodied hand symbolises the very book in which she is represented. In the 2006 Christie’s sale notice, the manuscript is described as being by ‘Berosus (fl. 300 BC)’ and as being ‘a French translation by Pierre de Balsac […] presumably made from the Latin translation printed in Rome in 1498’.17 The Flowering of Medieval French Literature catalogue notes more accurately that ‘[t]he present “translation” or rather adaptation is likely based on the Latin work of Giovanni Nanni (Annius de Viterbo, 1432- 1502), Commentaria fratris Joannis Annii Viterbiensis super opera diversorum auctorum…, published for the first time in Rome, 1498 and published again under the titles Berosus…de Antiquitatibus, Paris, 1509, and Berosus Babilonicus…, Paris 1510’.18 Further clarification is needed, however, concerning the relationship of Annius’ text to Anne’s manuscript. Annius of Viterbo, the author of the Antiquities, was a Dominican monk who, in 1493, ‘began a systematic program of revising the history of the world, of Italy, and of his hometown, Viterbo’. The Antiquities were part of this programme and consisted of eleven ‘ancient’ books that he had supposedly re-discovered and which, in some editions, were 16 In other manuscripts, guarde is usually spelled garde, thus avoiding a redundant ‘u/v’. Other manuscripts containing this motto include three copies of the Beau roman (BnF, mss fr. 25441 and naf 6513, and Chantilly 513), the surviving copy of the Rondeaux (BnF, f. fr. 2253), Anne’s copy of the Triumphs of Petrarch (BnF, ms fr. 22541) and the Voyages of Marco Polo (BnF, Arsenal 3511). 17 Christie’s sales notice available online: http://www.christies.com/lotfinder/sculptures-statues-figures/berosus- chaldean-history-in-4728662-details.aspx?from=searchresults&intObjectID=4728662&sid=6f9cf61d-5fd8- 4ae8-bac2-f0c304e2fee0 (accessed November 2014). Montmorand’s discussion of the text notes the existence of Annius of Viterbo’s text but declares that it has ‘aucune authenticité’ and seems to assume that there is no link between this text and the text in Anne’s manuscript which he implies might have been translated from Greek; see Une femme poète, 68, n. 1. 18 Flowering of Medieval French Literature, 180. http://www.christies.com/lotfinder/sculptures-statues-figures/berosus-chaldean-history-in-4728662-details.aspx?from=searchresults&intObjectID=4728662&sid=6f9cf61d-5fd8-4ae8-bac2-f0c304e2fee0 http://www.christies.com/lotfinder/sculptures-statues-figures/berosus-chaldean-history-in-4728662-details.aspx?from=searchresults&intObjectID=4728662&sid=6f9cf61d-5fd8-4ae8-bac2-f0c304e2fee0 http://www.christies.com/lotfinder/sculptures-statues-figures/berosus-chaldean-history-in-4728662-details.aspx?from=searchresults&intObjectID=4728662&sid=6f9cf61d-5fd8-4ae8-bac2-f0c304e2fee0 6 presented with detailed commentary, ‘coordinat[ing] them with the most authoritative historians of antiquity, both pagan and Judeo-Christian’.19 Walter Stephens has noted that the ‘books’ attributed to the Babylonian priest Berosus are the most important of those in the Antiquities because they ‘contain […] genealogies and lists of kings and events from three generations before the flood to the founding of Troy’.20 Annius was intent on proving that Italy, and not Greece, was at the origin of ancient history: drawing on the Chronicle of Jacobus de Voragine in which he claimed that ‘Italy had been colonized soon after Noah’s Flood by sons of Noah’s great-grandson Nimrod’ and on the works of Flavius Josephus in which traces of the original Berosus had been preserved, he sought to restore universal history ‘to its pristine, truthful state’.21 In doing so, he not only put Italy at the centre of the story but, wittingly or otherwise, also filled in the gaps in the early history of many other European countries, making his work extremely popular amongst historiographers whose nationalistic interests often involved proving the Trojan origins of their people.22 Despite a series of condemnations from leading commentators including Erasmus and Jacques Lefèvre d’Etaples exposing Annius’ work as a forgery, at least nineteen editions of the Antiquities were published between 1498 and 1612. The text was particularly well received in France where several editions were published between 1509 and 1515, and these by leading humanist printers including Geoffroy Tory and Geoffroy de Marnef. The first of these French editions reproduced the supposedly ‘ancient’ texts only. It was only in 1512 and 1515 that an edition with the full commentary – essentially a reprint of the Roman 1498 Editio princeps – was published by Jose Bade and Jehan Petit in Paris.23 Just before and during this flurry of publications, Margaret of Austria’s court historiographer, Jean Lemaire des Belges, was writing his Illustrations de Gaule et Singularitez de Troyes. He made substantial use of the Antiquities in developing his oeuvre which was eventually published between 1511 and 1513, by which time he had left Margaret’s court and begun working for Anne of Brittany. Stephens notes that no vernacular translations of the Antiquities were made before the mid-sixteenth century (and then these were into Italian) and that Lemaire des Belges’ Illustrations thus became ‘the most widely- 19 Stephens, ‘From Berossos to Berosus Chaldaeus’, p. 278. 20 Stephens, ‘Counterfeit and Fictive Editors’, 25. 21 Stephens, ‘From Berossos to Berosus Chaldaeus’, 278-79; and ‘Counterfeit and Fictive Editors’, 26. 22 R. E. Asher, National Myths in Renaissance France: Francus, Samothes and the Druids (Edinburgh: Edinburgh University Press, 1993), 49-50. See also Grafton, ‘Invention of Traditions’, 15, who notes the appeal of the Antiquities to Spanish, French, English and Germans. 23 On the condemnations and editions, see Stephens, ‘Counterfeit and Fictive Editors’, 6 and the list in the bibliography. 7 read “translation”’ of Annius’ text’, to the point that it ‘nearly eclipsed the original’.24 There is no denying the popularity of Lemaire des Belges’ text, especially since it went through several printed editions.25 However, close consideration of Anne’s manuscript suggests that the French text of her Chaldean Histories is based closely – at least in parts – on the Latin Editio princeps and that it likely predates Lemaire des Belges’ Illustrations. Anne’s manuscript may therefore provide early evidence of the popularity of Annius’ text in France as well as another instance of the text being transformed for an aristocratic female reader. Furthermore, as a highly personalised copy, the Chaldean Histories may also reveal something of how Anne’s own literary interests in “translation” were shaped and how she and Pierre sought to craft their place within French intellectual and courtly circles. The Text of the Chaldean Histories and the Latin Original Comparison of the main text of Anne’s manuscript with the Latin original indicates that it is a relatively faithful rendering into French of the five books of Berosus ‘published’ by Annius in his Antiquities. It is also evident from the prologue that the translator had access to the Commentaries that were included in the first, 1498, edition and then again in the editions printed in Paris in 1512 and 1515. It is worth noting here that the translator of the text remains anonymous. Durrieu suggested in 1889 that it might be Pierre himself but it has since been assumed that Pierre commissioned someone else to carry out the work on his behalf.26 Here I use the term translator when referring to the way the Latin has been rendered into French, and the term author in reference to the sections addressed to Anne and presumed to be in Pierre’s voice. The text begins with a panegyric praising Anne de Graville, her virtue and her honour, and an explanation of the author’s reasons for undertaking the work: A ceste cause Mademoiselle, pour ce que vous estes pleine de bon et gentil Esprit, remplye de vertuz et de toutes celles que j’ay veu la plus des plus en toutes bonnes choses louables parfaicte et acomplye qui prenez plaisir et delectation en tout ce en quoy les gens de bonne sorte doibvent faire. Aussi pour ce que contre toute raison divine naturele et humaine l’en vous donne du deul ennuy et tribulation beaucoup et sans cause afin de donner à vos yeulx un 24 Stephens, ‘Counterfeit and Fictive Editors’, 209 and 4. 25 On the complicated genesis of the Illustrations, see Jacques Abélard, Les Illustrations de Gaule et singularitéz de Troye de Jean Lemaire de Belges : Etude des éditions, genèse de l’œuvre (Geneva: Droz, 1976), 13. 26 Durrieu, ‘Les manuscrits à peintures’, 420; Montmorand, Une femme poète, 67-68; Flowering of French Medieval Literature, 174-75. 8 peu de recreation et soulager vostre cueur par doulce consolation, j’ay bien voulu prendre un peu de pene qui m’a esté grand plaisir à reduyre ceste presente hystoire Berosyene nouvellement de langue Caldayque en latine translatée et l’escripre en langue vulgaire pour honneur et amour de vous. Et si toust qu’ay commencé à mectre la main à l’euvre, le livre qui devant moi estoit c’est [sic] grandement humilié et en faisant une humble requeste m’a trèsfort pryé que je le voulusse à vous du tout vouher et dedyer comme à celle à qui il est dheu et apartient par excellence toutes gentillez et meilleurs choses. Combien que celle-cy ne soit telle ne digne d’estre par vous estimée. Neantmoins, Amour qui est conducteur de l’ouvrage, souverain gouverneur des cueurs humains, a pris la dicte request et de sa propre main ainsi qu’on fait es supplications Romaines ha mis fiat c’est à dire soit faict dont ay esté tresjoyeux. Et en obtemperant et obeyssant à luy je vous en fait don et present, mais pour bien entendre la matière et qui en elle est contenue il est à noter et scavoir que Berosus acteur de ce livre, fust du pays et nacion de babiloyne et de dignité Caldayque […]. 27 The importance of this exposé, particularly in relation to the apparent ‘ennuy et tribulation beaucoup’ suffered by Anne, will be discussed in more detail below, but here it is worth noting that it is at the end of this passage, where Berosus’ origins are mentioned, that the translator begins to rely upon the Latin commentaries written by Annius. Thus, for example, the French text continues […] Berosus acteur de ce livre fust du pays et nacion de Babiloyne et de dignité Caldayque ainsi que racompte Iosephus Ancien historiograffe hebraique en un livre qu’il a compousé encontre un orateur appellé Appion ou premier livre de l’antiqueté judaique. Et fust le dicte Berosus prestre.28 This passage renders into French the more concise Latin opening of the Praefatio incipit: Berosus fuit patria Babylonicus: et dignitate Chaldaeus: ut Iosephus contra appionem grammaticum: & in primo de Antiquitate Iudaica significat. Fuit ergo sacerdos: […]. 29 27 Fols 4v-6r. Apostrophes and punctuation have been added, as well as final é and the italics for fiat. I would like to thank Dr Helen Swift and Professor Rosalind Brown-Grant for their help in interpreting this text; any errors are entirely my own. 28 Fol. 6v. 9 However, despite the translator’s reliance on the Latin, he also inserts passages that are not to be found in Annius’ commentary. For instance, shortly after stating that the role of priests in Babylon was to keep written, public, records of the deeds of great kings and princes, the translator changes the final part of the Latin original which refers to Metasthenes, as a comparison of the two shows: Quare fuit notarius & scriba publicus: qua penes sacerdotes solos erat publica fides annalium : temporum gesta & regum: ut author est Methasthenes in libro de Judiciis temporum. 30 En ce temps là le vray office des prestres estoit de reciter au vray et rediger par esecript les annales, c’est à dire les grans faits et aults gestes qui par chacun en avenoyent du temps de leurs Roys, princes et autres grans personages en quels l’on adjoustoit pleine et entiere foy comme es scribez et tabellions publiquez. Tout ainsi comme l’on fait aujourduy est hystoires et croniques de France. 31 A couple of folios later, having followed the Latin description of the subjects of the five books that will follow the preface, the French version adds: Et l’on pourra en ceste petite hystoire veritablement congnoistre et parcevoir que en France plus de mille ans devant noustre Faranundus [i.e. Pharamond] que nous estimons premier Roy des françoys en y a eu plusieurs autres desquelz le premier fust Samotes fils de Jafet fils de l’ancien père Noa et aussy pareillement en aultres Royaulmes et nacions comme l’on verra.32 The translator therefore makes a direct link between the role of Babylonian priests like Berosus and the writers of contemporary French ‘hystoires et croniques’ as record keepers of important events and rulers. Furthermore, he goes on to stress the current book’s value in correcting the history of the French people by showing how their ancestry can be traced back beyond the first presumed king of the Franks, Pharamond, to Noah himself. As the French 29 References to the Latin are from the commentated edition, Antiquitatum variarum volumina XVII (Paris: Jean Petit, 1515), available on Gallica, http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k526066 (Accessed November 2014). Page references are to the numbers generated by the PDF from Gallica; here, 222. 30 Antiquitatum variarum, 222. 31 Fols 6r-v. 32 Fol. 8r. http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k526066 10 prologue continues, it deviates further from the Latin text so much so that it summarises events relating to writers and characters not mentioned in Annius’ prologue, including Ovid, Helen of Troy, and Hercules. However, the French translator is still careful to render Annius’ criticism of Graecia mendax (‘lying Greece’) for which his text became notorious: Et l’autre Hercules fut appellé Alceus filz de Amphitroron et Alemena. Au quel la nation grecque ha apliqé et atribué toutes les belles et anciennes proessez et chevalereuses entreprises en leur mensongieres et fabuleuses histoires es queles ils ont si doulcement et aromonieusement chanté par fictions poetiques qu’ils on [sic] voulu exalter agrandir acroistre et magnifier seulement leur nom et ceulx de leur gent et nation pour dimynuer abolyr aneantir et extaindre l’inextimable et incomparable magnificence et magnanimité des autres […]. 33 This paragraph expands the short Latin phrase in Annius’ prologue, ‘Et tamen Graecia mendax audet eam in historia quasi inundationem terrarum fingere’, to emphasise the way in which the Greeks, through lies and legends, wished to ‘glorify, extend, heighten and idealise’ their own people and nation at the expense of others.34 It is this sentiment which later authors exploit in re-workings of Annius’ text: as R. E. Asher notes, his glorification of Italy ‘involved downgrading Greece, Italy’s main rival, and this in turn entailed denying that the civilisation of western Europe as a whole came from Greece’.35 Thus, although the translator of Anne’s text diverges from the Latin prologue and also does not engage in the promotion of France as the origin of western European culture to the same extent as Lemaire des Belges in his Illustrations, he nevertheless renders explicit Annius’ notion of Graecia mendax, and forges a link between the contemporary writing of French history and the writing of the ancients.36 The prologue concludes with an invocation to ‘dame grace divine’, asking for her help in the writing of the work. The manuscript then continues with the five books of ‘Berosus’ in a translation that is closely derived from the Latin version. Anne’s Manuscript: Date, Context and Reception 33 Fols 9v-10r. 34 Antiquitatum variorum, 223. 35 Asher, National Myths, 50. 36 Stephens notes that ‘Lemaire succeeds […] in transforming Gaul into the first postdiluvian home of the arts and letters in Europe’; see ‘Counterfeit and Fictive Editors’, 233. 11 So how does Anne’s manuscript relate to Annius’ popularity in France and the dissemination of the Antiquities in the early sixteenth century? And as a gift, what might it then tell us about Anne’s own literary interests and her marriage to Pierre de Balsac? The two questions are, in a sense, interlinked. Let us look first in more detail at the dating of Anne’s manuscript since this will help to situate it in relation to Anne’s relationship with Pierre and also to Lemaire des Belges’ Illustrations. The commentated edition on which the Preface of Anne’s manuscript partly relies was first printed in France in 1512 but internal evidence suggests the manuscript was made prior to this publication. The Christie’s sale notice dates the manuscript to 1505-1506 and the Flowering of Medieval French Literature catalogue to 1506 ‘or a little after’, based on the notion that since the translator of the Chaldean Histories does not name himself, the manuscript was likely a gift ‘during [Pierre’s] period of courtship with Anne in order to affirm his love for her and convince her to wed him’.37 The prologue’s reference to the book as providing comfort for the ‘great and unmerited mourning’ and ‘trouble and tribulation’ that Anne has been suffering has also been evoked in support of a date prior to their marriage, which was opposed by Anne’s father. However, I would venture that the problems referred to relate more plausibly to those that Anne encountered as a result of her union with Pierre. After the couple married in 1507, Louis de Graville took out legal proceedings against Pierre for ‘cas d’excès, rapt, crimes, delictz, et malefices’ and subsequently disinherited his daughter.38 In 1510 an agreement between Anne and her father saw Anne renounce her inheritance in return for 10,000 écus d’or and 1000 livres de rente. Two years later, in 1513, Louis accused his daughter of forging letters that placed her back in the succession. Archival documents indicate that Louis de Graville continued to revise his will up until his death in 1516 and Anne’s inheritance was only settled a few years later when, in September 1518, an agreement was reached between Anne and the children of her sister Lousie, notably her nephew Louis de Vendôme.39 37 Christie’s sale notice and Flowering of Medieval French Literature, 175. The idea that the manuscript was made during their courtship ultimately derives from Montmorand, Une femme poète, 68. 38 Montmorand cites a document (Archives nationales, Parlement criminel, X2, A66, fol. 157) relating to the criminal proceedings taken by the Admiral against Pierre de Balsac and others in relation to his marriage with Anne. This is dated 27 January 1508 (new system) suggesting that the couple were married in 1507. See Montmorand, Une femme poète, 64 and n. 1. 39 Montmorand, Une femme poète, 76-78; 81-84. The procès is noted in Paul Marichal, Catalogue des actes de François Ier, 9 vols (Paris: Imprimerie nationale, 1887-1908), I, 151; available online http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k57203090 (Accessed November 2014). Several of Anne’s manuscripts bear the date 1518 and the inscription ‘de la succession du feu monseigneur l’amiral’. http://gallica.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/bpt6k57203090 12 The frontispiece miniature in the Chaldean Histories can further help to date the manuscript. The miniature was identified in the Christie’s sale notice and the Flowering of Medieval French Literature catalogue as being by Jean Pichore, an illuminator and printer active in France between 1502 and 1521 who produced a number of works for patrons at the French court.40 Recently, however, François Avril and Isabelle Delaunay have suggested that the miniature is by Pichore’s close collaborator, known as the Master of the Chronique Scandaleuse who was active in Paris between the early 1490s and 1510.41 The Master’s work has been identified in several manuscripts made for patrons at, or with connections to, the French court, including Charles VIII, Anne of Brittany, and Anne de Graville’s father, Louis. The Master’s work is characterised by figures with heavily drawn eyebrows, eyes that appear half closed, small, plump red lips, and fine pink tones on the cheeks as in the copy of the Histoire de la Toison d’or made for Anne of Brittany and to which we shall return (fig. 4).42 His work can also appear to have been rapidly executed with sometimes loose or watercolour-esque modelling and often includes highlighting in gold. Such traits are evident in the Chaldean Histories manuscript, where the faces of the women behind Anne and even Anne herself have the characteristic eyes, mouth, and peachy cheeks; the area around Anne’s right hand shows evidence of some indecision over, or sketchy approach to, this part of the drawing (fig. 1). The folds of the figures’ clothes and their jewellery are also indicated by rapid gold highlights. Furthermore, as Avril has suggested, the architectural frame around the miniature and the inclusion of the putti, differ from the kind of frames found in Pichore’s work in both the visual language and the execution.43 Given that the Master of the Chronique Scandaleuse’s activity stopped in 1510, his involvement in Anne’s Chaldean Histories would give a terminus ante quem that places the manuscript between Anne and Pierre’s marriage in 1507 and the end of that decade. With this in mind, we can then also assume that the translator of Anne’s text was working from the 1498 editio princeps copy of the Antiquities, rather than one of the editions produced in France from 1512. Therefore by choosing this text, Pierre, and perhaps also Anne herself, 40 Notably the Remèdes de l'une et l'autre Fortune de Pétrarque for Louis XII (Paris, BnF f. fr. 225) and a copy of Octovien de Saint-Gelais’ translation of the Heroides for Louise of Savoy (Paris, BnF, ms fr. 873). 41 Personal correspondence (24/10/2014); the Master was identified and baptised as such by François Avril and Nicole Reynaud after his work in Paris, BnF, ms. Clair. 481); see their Manuscrits à peintures en France, 1440- 1520 (Paris: Bibliothèque nationale de France, 1993), 274. 42 Guillaume Filastre, Histoire de la Toison d’Or (Paris, BnF, f. fr. 138); the Master’s work also appears in a manuscript containing five of Ovid’s Heroides and the debate of the Dame sans sy (Paris, Musée des lettres et manuscrits) for Anne of Brittany, to be discussed below, in a frontispiece miniature in Vérard’s edition of the Golden Legend for Charles VIII (Paris, BnF, Vélins 689) and, with the Master of Jacques de Besançon, in the Fleur des Histoires made for Louis de Graville (Besançon, BM, ms 851). 43 Personal correspondence (24/10/2014). 13 appear to have been tuned into an emerging historiographical-literary trend that would take off in France a few more years down the line. Furthermore, based on this dating, Anne’s manuscript would have been in production around the same time that Lemaire des Belges was working on his Illustrations although the two texts were written in different contexts and for very different purposes. The genesis of the Illustrations was a long and complicated affair. Lemaire des Belges claimed to have begun his oeuvre in 1500 and was certainly revising it in 1509 while employed as indiciaire and historiographe to Margaret of Austria to whom the first book was dedicated.44 Stephens suggests that Lemaire des Belges added the Annian sections to his work not earlier than 1506, and probably in 1508.45 Given these dates, we can also assume that, like Anne’s translator, he knew Annius’ work from the Roman edition of 1498. However, in 1511 Lemaire des Belges sought patronage at the French court, becoming historiographe de la reine, Anne of Brittany. Books two and three of the Illustrations, published in 1512 and 1513, were dedicated to her daughter Claude and to Anne respectively.46 Lemaire des Belges’ text was thus conceived in the Low Countries and intended as a piece of flattering propaganda – and as means to promote and secure his own position – to be circulated in the relatively new medium of print, first for the Regent of the Netherlands, then for the French queen and her heir. By contrast, Anne de Graville’s text was a highly personalised, manuscript, production including an individualised portrait of her illuminated by a prominent artist popular at the French court. There is no evidence to suppose that Pierre or Anne necessarily knew about Lemaire’s work: as the first book of the Illustrations was not printed until 1511, and as Lemaire des Belges did not begin working for Anne of Brittany until this date, his work may not have circulated outside Margaret’s court before then. Thus, although both texts thus bear witness to the availability of the Antiquities north of the Alps, Anne’s manuscript appears as novel gift, conceived independently of, and finished earlier than, Lemaire des Belges’ undertaking. Furthermore, as we have seen in the discussion of the prologue so far, the text of the manuscript offered to Anne is less concerned with the refashioning and promotion of France’s origins than it is with appealing to the recipient. 44 Rothstein, ‘Jean Lemaire des Belges’, 599. 45 Stephens, ‘Counterfeit and Fictive Editors’, 214. 46 The change of court and patron meant that Lemaire des Belges had to adapt his project to suit his new patron and he did this through subtle changes in the titles of each edition; see Rothstein, ‘Jean Lemaire des Belges’, 598-99. 14 Let us now return to the second question posed at the start of this section: why might Pierre have chosen to have this text in particular translated and offered as a ‘love token’ to his wife, and what does it tell us about Anne’s literary interests? Considering the manuscript’s decoration and the dedications to Anne in more detail will help us to answer this question and to understand this manuscript as a personal gift that not only embodied Pierre’s love for his wife and flattered her intellect but also served to craft Anne’s own learning and taste. Inspired by Love As noted above, the opening miniature and dedicatory prologue of the Chaldean Histories clearly indicate that the seated woman receiving the book from a disembodied hand guided by cupid is Anne de Graville. The other mottos on these first pages show that the book – and the ‘author’ himself – is intended only for Anne: ‘à autre non’ (to no-one else), ‘à non plus’ (to no other) and ‘à amour’ (for love) play on the preposition à and Anne’s initial. These jeux de mots are also apparent at book and divisions throughout the manuscript (figs 2 and 3) meaning that as Anne worked her way through the book, she would not only have seen herself pictured receiving it at the very start, but have been reminded at regular intervals throughout of the author’s dedication to and love for her. Reinforcing the visual elements of the author’s commitment to Anne are the prologue and epilogue. The prologue, already quoted in some detail above, indicates that the ‘author’ has taken the trouble ‘which was a great pleasure to me, to simplify this present Berosian history, newly translated from the Chaldean language into Latin, and to write it in the vernacular out of love and honour for you’. In doing so, he aims to give Anne’s ‘eyes some respite and to relieve your heart through gentle solace’ in the face of the unjustified suffering she is undergoing.47 It appears, moreover, that the author/translator/Pierre did not act alone in executing the task: the book which was being translated, as well as Love itself, were active agents in the creation of this gift. First, as the author set to work, the book in front of his eyes ‘humbled itself and making a humble request begged me hard that I would dedicate this book to you’. Seemingly unsure of his abilities, the ‘author’ is then aided by Love ‘who is the driving force behind this work’ who ‘[taking] this request into his own hands’ declares ‘let it be done’.48 The book, then, appears to have an almost supernatural element to its genesis, a sense also conveyed in the frontispiece by the hand holding the book which descends from the cloud, guided by Cupid, Love’s representative. 47 Fol. 5r 48 Fols 5r-6r. 15 Love’s role in the making of the book and its value for the author is reiterated in the epilogue where the author states: Je fais fin à ce present oeuvre le quel combien qu’il soit brief et petit si est il de grant poix et consequence. Et ne l’eusse jamais entrepris ne pris la peine de le coucher en langue vulgaire et maternelle car je m’en scay tresmal ayder si ce n’euste esté amour qui est vaincqueur de toutes choses lequel m’a commandé ainsi le faire, pour l’honneur de vous ma damoiselle à qui je suis du tout voué pour vos nobles et grandes vertus incomparables. Et si le lengaige est rude et mal aourné vostre bon plaisir sera le corriger et y employer du vostre, qui est sur tous doulx benign et gracieulx. En vous suppliant humblement que veuilliez le petit present prendre pour agreable, et ne consideres pas la petitesse ou peu de valeur du don mais le bon et parfait couraige cordial et entier vouloir de celuy qui le vous offre comme à celle à qui du tout il est à veult demourer pour jamais et aultre non voustre humble et obeissant. Cy finit le livre d’amour le quel a voulu estre ainsy nommé parce que amour ha induyt l’acteur et commandé le faire. Here the author also suggests that should the recipient find the language ‘rough and lacking in elegance’ she might take pleasure in correcting it with her own, since her own language is ‘sweet, gentle and gracious’. Although Anne’s two surviving literary works for Claude were not produced until 1515 and 1521, we have here a preliminary hint at Anne’s own interest in language, her literary talents and later achievements which, some years later, were praised by Geoffroy Tory in his Champ Fleury.49 The Chaldean Histories appears, then, to be more than a love token from husband to wife. Pierre’s decision to offer Anne this personalised, singular, translation of the Berosus books into French may not only have been a measure of the esteem in which Pierre held Anne’s intellect but may also have been chosen to meet or to encourage Anne’s particular interests in literature and translation. Moreover, through the choice of text and illuminator, the manuscript is clearly anchored in an emerging literary and artistic culture at the French court, one to which Anne de Graville would later contribute through her works and personal book collection. Thus, as I shall argue in the final section, Pierre’s ‘love book’ was a conscious attempt to valorise Anne on a number of levels – as his wife, as a woman with 49 ‘Et pour monstrer que nostre dict langage françois a grace quant il est bien ordonné, j'en allegueray icy en passant un rondeau que une femme d'excellence en vertus, ma dame d'Entraigues, a faict et composé’ ; Geoffroy Tory, Champ fleury, ed. by J.W. Joliffe (Paris, La Haye: Mouton Éditeur, 1970; repr. 1529 edition), f.4r. 16 intellectual and bibliophilic interests, and perhaps as someone looking to associate herself with, and perhaps gain the protection of, the French court during a turbulent personal period. The Chaldean Histories in a Courtly and Personal Context I have suggested that the Chaldean Histories be dated between 1507 and 1510. This means it was probably one of the first books that Anne owned and is certainly one of the first made specifically for her. As a French version of a Latin translation of a supposedly even older source, it fits into a courtly literary trend that privileged vernacular editions and translations. Such a trend is also evident in Anne’s own works and the acquisitions she made for her library: books in Anne’s possession included a French translation of the Triumphs of Petrarch which also presented extracts from the original Italian alongside the French.50 She also owned two translations of Marco Polo and a copy of Boccaccio’s Des cas nobles hommes et femmes.51 Furthermore, a similar ‘layering’ of the remaniement found in the Chaldean Histories occurs in Anne’s own Rondeaux and Beau roman which were themselves also adaptations and ‘translations’ of older texts. For instance, in the Rondeaux Anne indicates that she judges the Belle dame sans mercy to be the best of Chartier’s works that she has read. In so doing, ‘elle se situe dans la tradition médiévale puis humaniste de la translatio studii’.52 Further attention is drawn to the notion of translation and rewriting through the mise-en-page of the only surviving copy of the Rondeaux where Anne’s text is presented in parallel with Chartier’s original. The two are thus textually and visually in direct dialogue in a format that encourages comparison and debate. A different kind of rewriting might be observed in the Beau roman. The source for this text, Boccaccio’s Teseida, was set in the time of Theseus, founder of Athens, and thus in a period central to the history of Ancient Greece. In this work, Anne re-orientated the story of Palamon, Arcita and Emilia towards the French court, updating it with allusions to the meeting of Henry VIII and Francis I at the Field of the Cloth of Gold and describing the two heroes in terms that evoked the two kings.53 We might speculate that the subtle re-workings that Anne brought to the Beau roman were shaped by her knowledge first of the criticisms levelled against Graecia mendax in Annius and perhaps 50 See note 16. 51 See note 16; the location of Anne’s copy of Boccaccio’s Des cas nobles hommes et femmes, translated by Laurent de Premierfait is now unknown (formerly Schøyen Collection MS 268, then acquired by Günther Rare Books in 2010). Another copy of Marco Polo, Paris, BnF, naf 1880 was also in her possession. 52 Müller, ‘Anne de Graville lectrice de Maistre Allain: Pour une récriture stratégie de la Belle dame sans mercy’, in Lectrices d’Ancien Régime, ed. Isabelle Brouand-Arends (Rennes: Presses universitaires de Rennes, 2003), 231-41 (232). 53 See L’Estrange, ‘Re-Presenting Emilia’, n. 37. 17 by her familiarity, later, with Lemaire des Belges’ Illustrations, which she may well have encountered while at Claude’s court, in which France was clearly favoured over Greece. One ancient text that was given a new lease of life in the vernacular at the end of the fifteenth century was Ovid’s Heroides, a collection of twenty-one epistles written by love- lorn classical heroines, translated into French by Octovien de Saint-Gelais. Although originally produced for Charles VIII, the Heroides was particularly appreciated amongst female readers at the French court and its popularity also inspired contemporary authors ‘to compose their own Heroidean style epistles’.54 Two such epistles by Clément Marot and Macé de Villebresme are bound in the presentation copy of Anne de Graville’s Beau roman, and complement the emphasis given to appropriate female behaviour in that text.55 Saint- Gelais was not the first author, however, to make Ovid’s Heroides available in the vernacular: a partial French translation was embedded into the second redaction of the Histoire ancienne jusqu’à César, the oldest copy of which dates to the first half of the fourteenth century and which focuses on the history of Troy.56 Although this redaction was less popular than the original text – surviving in only thirteen manuscripts – it was clearly of interest to Anne’s parents, perhaps specifically to her mother, since a copy dated 1467 is liberally decorated with the Graville arms and the impaled Graville-Balsac arms.57 Anne acquired this copy, in which nearly every epistle is accompanied by a miniature of the woman writing or despatching her letter, as part of her inheritance and we might suppose that she was already familiar with the manuscript and thus the early Heroides translations when it was part of her parents’ library. A selection of five of Saint-Gelais’ translations of the Heroides – which Cynthia Brown has noted ‘present the most desperate plaints’ – were included in a manuscript made specifically for Anne of Brittany and decorated by the Master of the Chronique Scandaleuse who also produced the frontispiece of Anne’s Chaldean Histories. This manuscript dates from around 1492 and also includes two French poems concerning the ‘the legal judgement about the unique beauty of the so-called Dame sans sy and the subsequent appeal against this 54 See Kathleen Wilson-Chevalier, ‘Proliferating Narratives: Texts, Images, and (Mostly Female) Dedicatees in a Few Héroïdes Productions’, in Rosalind Brown-Grant and Rebecca Dixon (eds), Text/Image Relations in Late Medieval French Culture (see note 9); Yvonne LeBlanc, ‘Queen Anne in the Lonely, Tear-Soaked Bed of Penelope: Rewriting the Heroides in Sixteenth Century France’, in The Late Medieval Epistle, ed. by Carol Poster and Richard J. Utz (Evanston: Northwestern UP, 1996), 71-88. 55 Arsenal 5116; see L’Estrange, ‘Re-Presenting Emilia’, 195. 56 For a discussion of the text’s genesis and surviving manuscripts, see Les Epistres des dames de Grèce: une version médiévale en prose française des Héroïdes d’Ovide, ed. by Luca Barbieri (Paris: Champion, 2007). See also Paul White, Renaissance Postscripts: Responding to Ovid’s Heroides in Sixteenth Century France (Columbus: Ohio State University Press, 2009), especially Chapter 4 ‘The Heroides in Translation’, 144-86. 57 Paris, BnF ms fr. 254; see also Deldicque ‘Bibliophiles de mère en fille’. 18 verdict by the ladies in Anne of Brittany’s entourage’.58 As Brown notes, the topic of the Dame sans sy poems ‘resonate[s] with the […] literary trial associated with Alain Chartier’s Belle Dame sans mercy’, the text which Anne herself would rework at Claude’s request.59 In addition, the Dame sans sy manuscript also contains an epitaph on the death of one Madame de Balsac. This was Marie de Montberon, wife of Geoffroy de Balsac, Anne’s maternal uncle, who died in 1492.60 Although it is impossible to say whether Anne de Graville knew of this manuscript, family connections and her own position at Claude’s court means that she may well have been aware of the debate poems and the Epitaph written about her aunt, especially since these were also reproduced at least twice in both manuscript and printed form.61 The decoration of the Chaldean Histories by the Master of the Chronique Scandaleuse, an artist associated in particular with a manuscript made for the Queen and lamenting the death of Anne’s aunt, also links it to courtly – and specifically female bibliophilic – circles. The frontispiece not only places Anne at the centre of Pierre’s affections – surrounded as she is by his declarations of love ‘à autre non’ – but also presents her as a learned, authorial persona, with a clear visual connection to the French court. Traditional presentation scenes show the author kneeling and extending a copy of his/her work to the recipient as we see Anne doing in Claude’s copy of the Beau roman (fig. 5) In the Chaldean Histories, however, the ‘author’ is absent and the book is instead offered by a disembodied hand emerging from a cloud. This ethereal gesture not only reiterates the declaration in the prologue that the book was actually the work of Love itself but also means that the focus of the miniature is displaced on to Anne alone. Here, she takes centre stage, filling a substantial proportion of the frame. Anne’s style and colour of dress and headdress, as well as those of the women behind her, recall the Breton fashion introduced at the French court by Anne of Brittany and which she is frequently depicted wearing as, for instance in the 58 Now in the Musée des lettres et manuscrits, Paris; see Brown, The Queen’s Library, 186-87 where it is referred to as the Breslauer manuscript. 59 Brown, The Queen’s Library, 187. 60 H. Lamarque in his article ‘Autour d’Anne de Graville: Le Débat de la “Dame sans sy” et l’épitaphe de la poetesse’, Mélanges sur la littérature de la Renaissance à la mémoire de V.-L. Saulnier (Geneva: Droz, 1984), 603-611 argues that the Mme de Balsac is Anne herself but this is not possible based on the dates. 61 In addition to the manuscript discussed here, the texts are reproduced in a manuscript that is bound with a printed edition of Le Chevalier délibéré, Paris, BnF, Vélins 2231. See Eugénie Droz, ‘Notice sur un manuscrit ignoré de la Bibliothèque Nationale’, Romania, 45 (1918-19),503-13 who also notes that L’Arrest de la louange appears alone in Paris, BnF fr. 2206 (fol. 195). The printed edition is Le recueil des espistres d'Ovide translaté en françoys o vray, ligne pour ligne, faisans mencion de cinq loyalles amoureuses... Paris, BnF, Yc 1567, undated; available on Gallica http://catalogue.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb325023851 (Accessed November 2014). http://catalogue.bnf.fr/ark:/12148/cb325023851 19 frontispiece of the Histoire de la Toison d’Or, noted above (fig. 4).62 The Toison d’Or manuscript provides other visual links to the Graville miniature, such as the positioning of Anne of Brittany’s hands, especially her left hand, the disembodied hand emerging from the blue cloud supported by angelic figures with wings, and the use of scrolls, mottos and initials. For instance, the S and the A in the margins of this manuscript have been interpreted as references to Anne of Brittany and Charles VIII whose symbols included the closed ‘S’, or fermesse. The motto at the bottom of the page, ‘à se me rends pour jamais à’ involves a similar play on letters as those found in the Chaldean Histories. As Brown notes ‘To S (that is, Charles VIII), A (that is, Anne) gives herself forever’.63 Brown argues that in this representation of Anne of Brittany with the Virtues, the queen ‘stages and performs her life, with her own symbols providing additional details about her queenship’.64 In the same way, Anne de Graville is also being ‘staged’ in the Chaldean Histories’ miniature – not only as the revered love object of Pierre and the recipient of this book inspired by Love but also as a woman in her own right in a visual and material schema that links her to the patronage of the French court and, specifically, to its women. This link is reinforced by the group of people, led by women, who enter the room behind Anne and who recall the largely female entourage who frequently accompany depictions of Anne and Claude in their own manuscripts.65 However, whereas Brown notes that Anne of Brittany’s ‘persona is in the end inextricably intertwined with the king’s throughout the [Toison d’Or] manuscript’, Anne de Graville here dominates in her own right: the prominence of Anne’s own motto ‘J’en guarde un leal’ trumps those of Pierre and the focus on Anne is further reinforced by the Graville-only arms in the bas-de-page. Pierre’s self-effacement in both image and text – he is visually absent and he never names himself – puts Anne centre stage. Conclusion As we have seen, Anne de Graville’s manuscript of the Chaldean Histories comprises a translation into French of part of Annius’ Antiquities that likely predates the much freer adaptation published by Lemaire des Belges. Furthermore, the combination of this text together with the dedications and decorations suggest that this book was designed not only as 62 Paris, BnF, ms fr. 138. On the dating of this manuscript and its connection to Anne of Brittany, see Brown, pp. 15-18 and nn. 1-3. 63 Brown, The Queen’s Library, 18. 64 Brown, The Queen’s Library, 18. 65 In addition to the presentation miniature of the Beau roman see also the depictions of Anne and her ladies-in- waiting in the Epistres de Poètes royaux (St Petersburg, National Library of Russia, Fr. F. v. XIV, 8) and the Voyage de Gênes by Jean Marot (Paris, BnF, fr. 5091). 20 a gift representing Pierre de Balsac’s love and an acknowledgement of the unfair suffering their union had entailed, but also to appeal to Anne as a woman with an interest in books, in translation and in literature, and with a growing familiarity with the French court. In this sense, I have argued, it functioned as a key work in Anne’s collection that drew attention – visually and textually – to her erudition and her own interest in language. It thus pre-empted, and helped to shape, her future book collecting and her own literary pursuits under the patronage of Claude. 
work_uud3yv7rtjhzzlrluzpmo74jdq	----	Sailing to Byzantium: The Architecture of the Panama Pacific International Exposition | California History | University of California Press Skip to Main Content Close UCPRESS ABOUT US BLOG SUPPORT US CONTACT US Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search User Tools Register Carnegie Mellon University Carnegie Mellon University Sign In Toggle MenuMenu Content Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info For Authors Librarians Reprints & Permissions About Journal Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Skip Nav Destination Article Navigation Close mobile search navigation Article navigation Volume 62, Issue 2 July 1983 Previous Article Next Article Article Navigation Research Article| July 01 1983 Sailing to Byzantium: The Architecture of the Panama Pacific International Exposition Gray Brechin Gray Brechin Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar California History (1983) 62 (2): 106–121. https://doi.org/10.2307/25158152 Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Email Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation Gray Brechin; Sailing to Byzantium: The Architecture of the Panama Pacific International Exposition. California History 1 July 1983; 62 (2): 106–121. doi: https://doi.org/10.2307/25158152 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content California History Search This content is only available via PDF. Copyright 1983 CHS Article PDF first page preview Close Modal You do not currently have access to this content. Sign in Don't already have an account? Register Client Account You could not be signed in. Please check your email address / username and password and try again. Email address / Username ? Password Sign In Reset password Register Sign in via your Institution Sign in via your Institution Citing articles via Web Of Science (2) Google Scholar CrossRef Latest Most Read Most Cited Mexican American Parrhesia at Troy: The Rise of the Chicana/o Movement at the University of Southern California, 1967–1974 Breaking the Eleventh Commandment: Pete McCloskey’s Campaign against the Vietnam War Fishing on Porpoise: The Origins of Dolphin Bycatch in the American Yellowfin Tuna Industry Keepers of the Culture at 3201 Adeline Street: Locating Black Power Theater in Berkeley, California Suburban Cowboy: Country Music, Punk, and the Struggle over Space in Orange County, 1978–1981 Email alerts Article Activity Alert Latest Issue Alert Close Modal Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info for Authors Info for Librarians About Editorial Team Richard J. Orsi Prize Contact Us Online ISSN 2327-1485 Print ISSN 0162-2897 Copyright © 2021 Stay Informed Sign up for eNews Twitter Facebook Instagram YouTube LinkedIn Visit the UC Press Blog Disciplines Ancient World Anthropology Art Communication Criminology & Criminal Justice Film & Media Studies Food & Wine History Music Psychology Religion Sociology Browse All Disciplines Courses Browse All Courses Products Books Journals Resources Book Authors Booksellers Instructions Journal Authors Journal Editors Librarians Media & Journalists Support Us Endowments Membership Planned Giving Supporters About UC Press Careers Location Press Releases Seasonal Catalog Contact Us Acquisitions Editors Customer Service Exam/Desk Requests Media Inquiries Print-Disability Rights & Permissions Royalties UC Press Foundation © Copyright 2021 by the Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Privacy policy   Accessibility Close Modal Close Modal This Feature Is Available To Subscribers Only Sign In or Create an Account Close Modal Close Modal This site uses cookies. By continuing to use our website, you are agreeing to our privacy policy. Accept 
work_uw76h6jijvgcfpxumzzr7mxlwq	----	Durham Research Online Deposited in DRO: 07 February 2011 Version of attached �le: Accepted Version Peer-review status of attached �le: Peer-reviewed Citation for published item: Banks, Kathryn (2008) 'Opposites and identities : Maurice Sc�eve's 'D�elie' and Charles de Bovelles's 'Ars Oppositorum'.', French studies., 62 (4). pp. 389-403. Further information on publisher's website: https://doi.org/10.1093/fs/knn070 Publisher's copyright statement: This is a pre-copy-editing author-produced PDF of an article accepted for publication in French studies following peer review. The de�nitive publisher-authenticated version, Banks, Kathryn (2008) 'Opposites and identities: Maurice Sc�eve's 'D�elie' and Charles de Bovelles's 'Ars Oppositorum'.', French studies., 62(4): 389-403 is available online at: https://doi.org/10.1093/fs/knn070 Additional information: Use policy The full-text may be used and/or reproduced, and given to third parties in any format or medium, without prior permission or charge, for personal research or study, educational, or not-for-pro�t purposes provided that: • a full bibliographic reference is made to the original source • a link is made to the metadata record in DRO • the full-text is not changed in any way The full-text must not be sold in any format or medium without the formal permission of the copyright holders. Please consult the full DRO policy for further details. Durham University Library, Stockton Road, Durham DH1 3LY, United Kingdom Tel : +44 (0)191 334 3042 | Fax : +44 (0)191 334 2971 https://dro.dur.ac.uk https://www.dur.ac.uk https://doi.org/10.1093/fs/knn070 http://dro.dur.ac.uk/7918/ https://dro.dur.ac.uk/policies/usepolicy.pdf https://dro.dur.ac.uk 1 Opposites and Identities: Maurice Scève’s Délie and Charles de Bovelles’s Ars Oppositorum i) Opposition in Early Sixteenth-Century Poetry and Philosophy Opposition is central to much early-sixteenth century writing in the domains of both poetry and philosophy. Love lyricists use antitheses to depict the lover‟s experience: opposites such as heat and cold, sickness and health, and fire and ice are extremely commonplace. Two very different conceptions of „opposites‟ were available to philosophical prose: those of the Aristotelian square of „opposites‟, and those which, in the thought of Nicholas of Cusa, coincide in the vision of the divine. In this essay, I will examine examples of both love poetry and prose philosophy: Maurice Scève‟s Délie (1544) and Charles de Bovelles‟s Ars Oppositorum (1511) 1 respectively. I intend to show that both texts, in their contrasting discursive domains, explore opposition and its relationship to difference, identity, and similarity; both 1 The Ars was published together with a series of other works; it reworks and develops material from Bovelles‟s earlier In Artem Oppositorum Introductio (1501). 2 also challenge conceptions of difference and identity, expressing a particular interest in antithetical or binary pairs. Stephen Murphy‟s fascinating article, „Bovelles. Scève. Bruno. Antiperistasis‟, pointed to convergences between Bovelles and Petrarchist poetry in general as well as Scève‟s Délie in particular. 2 Murphy notes that in both Bovelles‟s theory and Petrarchist poetry opposites serve to intensify each other; in the case of poetry, the lover‟s mal means that his bien increases. Murphy further suggests that the Délie is particularly interesting because of its oft-noted evocation of simultaneous opposites (rather than cyclical ones), such as „heureux souffrir‟ (pp. 43-6). Murphy then pursues other related concerns, analysing conceptions of opposition in Bruno‟s commentary on love poems in De gli eroici furori, and their movement towards mystical theology; however, opposites in the Délie – and their relationship to Bovelles‟s writing – are also very worthy of further study. Scève and Bovelles share an interest not only in the mutual intensification of opposites but also in the relationship between antithetical modes of difference and other kinds, as well as in the dynamic interactions between different pairs of opposites. 2 Allegorica 14 (1993), pp. 39-52. See also Jacqueline Risset, L’Anagramme du désir: Sur la Délie de Maurice Scève (Paris, Fourbis, 1995), pp. 91-100; Doranne Fenoaltea, “Si haulte Architecture”: The Design of Scève’s Délie (Kentucky: French Forum, 1982), pp. 84-92. 3 ii) The Vocabulary of ‘Opposition’ in the Ars Oppositorum and the Délie Bovelles‟s Ars Oppositorum both employs and transforms the Aristotelian concept of oppositio („opposition‟). The Aristotelian notion of a square of opposites is central to the Ars but Bovelles uses it very differently from more traditional Aristotelian writers. 3 Bovelles‟s square, like the Aristotelian one, is intended to produce knowledge. However, it differs from the traditional square concerning the types of „opposition‟ involved in creating knowledge, as well as the sort of knowledge achieved. The Aristotelian square of opposites was used to analyse the relationships of „opposition‟ between propositions (statements), in order to determine how the possible truth or falsity of one or more propositions limited the possible truth or falsity of others. „Opposition‟ did not carry its 3 For discussions of Bovelles‟s Ars, see Maurice de Gandillac, „L‟Art bovilien des opposés‟, in Charles de Bovelles en son cinquième centenaire 1479-1979: Actes du colloque international tenu à Noyon les 14-15- 16 septembre 1979, ed. by Jean-Claude Margolin (Paris: Guy Trédaniel, Éditions de la Maisnie, 1982), pp. 157-70; Joseph M. Victor, Charles de Bovelles 1479-1553: An Intellectual Biography (Geneva: Droz, 1978), pp. 73-87; and Jean-Claude Margolin, „Sur L’Art des opposés de Bovelles‟, in Logique et Littérature à la Renaissance: Actes du Colloque de la Baume-les-Aix, Université de Provence, 16-18 septembre 1991, eds Marie-Luce Demonay-Launay and André Tournon (Paris: Champion, 1994), pp. 5-16. 4 modern everyday meaning of antithetical or absolute difference but rather referred to four contrasting kinds of differing, of which only the „contrary‟ implies absolute difference (of the type existing between the propositions „all A is B‟ and „no A is B‟). Depending upon which of the particular „oppositions‟ (or types of differing) held between propositions, particular inferences could be made: thus the square provided a logical basis for validating certain forms of argument regardless of whether the subject- matter concerned, for example, the mortality of men or the ingratitude of republics. By contrast with traditional Aristotelian logicians, Bovelles inserts into his square of opposites not propositions (such as “all men are mortal”) but single terms such as “light”, “darkness”, “God”, “nothing”, “truth”, “falsity”, “unity” and “number”. Furthermore, Bovelles states in the opening paragraph of his first chapter that for him oppositio (opposition) refers not simply to the logicians‟ four types of difference but rather to any sort of relationship between things: „we, by contrast [with the „dialecticians‟], wish in this work to give a broader meaning to the term of opposition … for although most things in existence seem not to have received from nature any contrariety or dispute, they are nevertheless called opposites with respect to 5 one another for the sole reason of their mutual relation‟. 4 Bovelles expresses this mutual relation in spatial terms which are characteristic of much of his discussion throughout the Ars. 5 However, while being broader than logical categories of difference, it is clearly a relation of some kind of difference (or identity): Bovelles proceeds to discuss the sources of „every difference and unity of things‟. 6 As in Aristotelian logic, consideration of oppositions can reveal knowledge about many disciplines, but for Bovelles (as he explains in his dedicatory address to François de Melun) this is because knowledge about one discipline can be gleaned from another, thanks to the 4 „Nos vero hoc in proposito latius oppositionis nomen extendi volumus … Nam tametsi pleraque entium nullam natura aut contrarietatem aut pugnantiam sortita esse videantur, opposita tamen invicem sola mutue relationis causa vocantur‟: ed. by Pierre Magnard, (Paris: Librairie Philosophique J. Vrin, 1984), p. 36. I refer throughout to Magnard‟s edition; translations into English are my own, although I have consulted Magnard‟s French translation. 5 „we, by contrast, wish in this work to give a broader meaning to the term of opposition, to all those things, I say, which in any way you like are placed facing each other either by nature or by the understanding (intellectus), or which in whatever way you please are returned / referred each to the other, or which [taken] from their own area are placed facing each other, are turned back towards each other and as if by the distance of some diameter look at each other‟: „Nos vero hoc in proposito latius oppositionis nomen extendi volumus, ad ea inquam cuncta, que quomodovis contra sese aut natura aut intellectu statuuntur, queve quomodolibet ad alterutrum referuntur, queve regione sui et adversum se collocantur, in seinvicem convertuntur et velut quodam diametri interstitio in alterutrum spectant‟ (p. 36, my italics) 6 „omnis rerum differitas unitasque‟ (p. 38). 6 „coincidence‟ and „proportion‟ of all opposites. 7 The art of opposites thus gives rise to a creative movement of language, „a productive development of discourse‟; 8 as a result, it is even possible to use the human disciplines to „voice‟ in some sense divine mysteries. 9 Therefore Bovelles‟s concept of „opposition‟ is even broader than the Aristotelian one, which itself does not necessarily imply antithetical difference. For Bovelles, oppositio can mean simply the relation of two things to one another (or the placing of two things in relation to one another); opposita denotes the two things which are considered in relation to one another. However, many of the pairs of terms which Bovelles considers are in fact antithetical ones, binary pairs such as light and darkness. Furthermore, oppositio is used to denote the bringing together of antithetical terms such as Deus (God) and nichil (nothing). In this context oppositio is 7 p. 32. On gaining knowledge about different disciplines from the square, see also chapter 17. 8 „fecunda quedam orationis propagatio‟ (p. 32). Insofar as he implies the conjunction of knowledge and discourse, Bovelles‟s attitude to Aristotelian logic can be compared to that of logicians like Petrus Ramus. Bovelles repeats the idea of the productivity of his square: „Et per hec opposite equidistantiam et angulum sive intersectionem, latissime de cunctis oppositis philosophari‟ („And through these opposites, parallelism and the angle or intersection, one can philosophise extensively on all opposites‟, p. 66, my italics). 9 pp. 32-4. Later in Bovelles‟s career, he moved further towards speculative theology, and what Lefèvre d‟Etaples called „intellectual‟ philosophy (that is, philosophy based in intuition rather than reason): see Victor, pp. 54-5. 7 aligned with lis (conflict), bellum (war), and discordia (discord; p. 56). Although Bovelles has said that „opposites‟ can be any terms in relation with one another, oppositio also comes to signify antithetical and conflictual difference. Oppositio equivocates between denoting, on the one hand, any relationship between two terms, and, on the other hand, a relationship of conflictual binary difference, of „discord‟ and „war‟. The term opposita carries similarly contrasting meanings. Thus Bovelles‟s vocabulary confuses antithetical difference with other kinds of difference and of similarity. Kinds of difference cannot be clearly categorised as they are in Aristotelian logic, and antithetical difference cannot be clearly distinguished from other kinds. Bovelles not only broadens the concept of oppositio but also troubles its conceptual boundaries. Indeed Bovelles sometimes discusses the very terms „same‟ (idem) and „opposite‟ (oppositum) – alongside his discussion of other pairs such as „light‟ and „darkness‟ – and this gives rise to complex statements about opposition such as „if the same is in the opposite, the opposite will be in the same‟. 10 By contrast with the Ars Oppositorum, Scève‟s Délie belongs to a genre in which the primary object of description is supposed to be a lady 10 „Et ita in cunctis reperies, si idem eodem fuerit, fore simul oppositum in opposite, et si idem in opposite, oppositum fore in eodem‟ (p. 54). 8 rather than opposition; unsurprisingly, then, Scève uses the abstract language of difference much less frequently than Bovelles does. However, Scève does occasionally use terms associated with opposition, and, like Bovelles, he does so in a manner which is far from straightforward. In D124, Apollo is evoked as the jealous sun who hides his light in response to the lady‟s superior light. The lady is referred to as Apollo‟s contraire, a term which implies absolute difference both generally and also in Aristotelian logic. 11 Yet, while the lady may be superior to the sun, they are also similar since both supposedly emit a bright light. In other words, Scève uses the vocabulary of antithetical difference (contraire) for a relation which apparently involves a more nuanced type of difference and also similarity. Like Bovelles, Scève seems to question the meaning of antithetical difference and its relationship to other sorts of difference, as if asking whether absolute difference and similarity can somehow co-exist. Both Scève and Bovelles use the vocabulary of opposition in a way which implies that its meaning is not self-evident; both, to varying extents, use vocabulary 11 It can also have a spatial meaning: Algirdan Julien Greimas and Teresa Mary Keane give a definition of it as „de direction opposée‟:, Dictionnaire du moyen français: la Renaissance (Paris: Larousse, 1992). This, together with Scève‟s cosmic imagery, suggests that Scève – like Bovelles – thinks of opposition in potentially spatial terms; however, developing this line of thought is beyond the scope of this essay. 9 from logic and yet go beyond or trouble the meanings which such vocabulary carries in logic. iii) Relations of Opposition and Identity in the Délie: The Lady and the Sun While Scève does not often use the abstract vocabulary of opposition, I will argue that – by placing particular terms into relations which seem to fluctuate between difference, identity, and similarity – he does question the categorisation of types of difference or opposition, and explore the ways in which identity and difference might co-exist. I will focus in particular upon the relations of „opposition‟ between the lady and the sun, which are at issue not only in D124 but in many other dizains. Studies of the cosmos in the Délie have tended to focus upon the relationship between the ie and the cosmos (rather than the lady and the cosmos). 12 However, the relationship 12 In his Harmonie divine et subjectivité poétique chez Maurice Scève (Geneva: Droz, 2001), James Helgeson focuses upon the relationship between the cosmos and the ie, as his title suggests. The lady is part of the subject‟s relationship with the world, and the subject attempts to force her into the mould of cosmic harmony. Hans Staub focused upon the cognitive movement into the world of the ie, and considered the 10 between the lady and the sun is particularly interesting for my purposes here because it involves complex relations of difference, similarity, and identity. Scève is working through specific questions thrown up by the discourse of love lyric, such as the nature of the similarity between the lady and the celestial, as well as the related question of the difference between the ie and the lady who seems as distant and different from him as the sun is from the earth. However, in love lyric, desire and difference seem to be a priori bound up with one another; indeed other love lyricists also use the word contraire to refer to the lady who refuses the poet‟s desire. 13 Moreover, for Scève in particular, love seems to be bound up with a difference which defies categorisation in terms of Aristotelian logic. Critics of the Délie – and of love lyric more generally – often refer to the relationship between the human and the cosmic as if its nature were self- evident, as if it were predetermined by a fixed sixteenth-century conception of the „microcosm‟: cosmic images are explained with reference to a relationship between the human and the cosmic which, apparently, was lady to be united with the ie in this movement: Le Curieux Désir: Scève et Peletier du Mans, poètes de la connaissance (Geneva: Droz, 1967), pp. 35-84. 13 Edmond Huguet, Dictionnaire de la langue française du seizième siècle (Paris, 1925-), 7 vols, p. 487. 11 universally interpreted to be one of similarity. 14 This is suggested more explicitly by Hans Staub‟s use of a quotation from Cusa to frame his reading of the Délie: the quotation states that the human behaves like the cosmic but „in a human way‟, humaniter. 15 I would not dispute the idea – expressed most explicitly by Jean Rousset – that cosmic images in sixteenth-century poetry are ontologically grounded in the relationship between the human and the cosmic. 16 However, it does not follow that this relationship was conceived in only one fixed and stable way, as a relationship of similarity. I 14 For example, Jerry C. Nash considers Scève‟s solar and lunar images to represent a triumph of clarity over obscurity, thus implying that cosmic light is simply a symbol of human cognition, thanks to the similarity between the two; cf. my discussion of the relationship between light and cognition in „The Cosmic, the Human, and the Divine: The Role of Poetic Images in Guillaume de Saluste Du Bartas‟s Sepmaine and Maurice Scève‟s Délie‟ (unpublished doctoral thesis, University of Cambridge, 2005), Part II; my book under preparation, Cosmos and Image in the French Renaissance; and in a second planned article on the Délie and the Ars Oppositorum, „Difference, Cognition, and Causality: Maurice Scève‟s Délie and Charles de Bovelles‟s Ars Oppositorum. Critics often refer to the „universe‟ of the Délie to mean the subjective „world‟ of the lover, thus suggesting that the cosmos is not a concern but simply a source of images. See also Fenoaltea, for whom the role of the cosmos is to illustrate and clarify the lover‟s experience: “Si haulte architecture”, pp. 35-52. 15 Curieux Désir, pp. 9, 35-84. 16 L’Intérieur et l’extérieur: essai sur la poésie et sur le théâtre au XVIe siècle (Paris: Librairie José Corti, 1976) pp. 57-71. 12 will suggest rather that the Délie interrogates the roles in this relationship of difference, similarity, and identity. 17 In the Délie, as in much other love lyric of the same period, the beloved lady is often related to cosmic light-sources and in particular to the sun. 18 The poet shifts between, on the one hand, evoking Délie and the sun as separate beings and discussing their differences, and, on the other hand, identifying and conflating the lady and the sun. Sometimes the relationship between the lady and the cosmic light-source is one of similarity or analogy. For example, in D24 the relationship of the ie with the lady resembles the relationship which human beings in general have with cosmic light: the ie is dazzled by the lady‟s light just as the human eye is dazzled by cosmic light. Quand l‟œil aux champs est d‟esclairs esblouy, 17 My study Cosmos and Image is also concerned with difference and similarity in the relationship between the human and the cosmic (and the divine); however, whereas the focus in this essay will be on concepts of difference or opposition, the focus in my book will be on the human, the cosmic, and the divine. Thus the two projects respond to very different concerns within the same nexus of problems. See also my „Situating the Masculine: Gender, Identity and the Cosmos in Maurice Scève‟s Délie, Marsilio Ficino‟s De Amore and Leone Ebreo‟s Dialoghi‟ in Masculinities in Sixteenth-Century France: The Eighth Cambridge French Renaissance Colloquium (Cambridge: Cambridge French Colloquia, forthcoming). 18 On light imagery in the Délie, see also Lance K. Donaldson-Evans, Love’s Fatal Glance: A Study of Eye Imagery in the Poets of the Ecole Lyonnaise (University, Miss.: Romance Monographs, Inc, 1980), pp. 99- 144; Banks, „The Cosmic‟, Part II. 13 Luy semble nuict quelque part, qu‟il regarde : Puis peu à peu de clarté resjouy, Des soubdains feuz du Ciel se contregarde. Mais moy conduict dessoubs la sauvegarde De ceste tienne, et unique lumiere, Qui m‟offusca ma lyesse premiere Par tes doulx rays aiguement suyviz, Ne me pers plus en veue coustumiere. Car seulement pour t‟adorer ie vis. 19 The first four lines describe the effects of cosmic light, then the final six lines evoke those of the lady‟s „light‟. There is no confusion between the cosmic light and the lady, especially since the ie distinguishes between their effects using „mais‟: the light and the lady are said to be similar but they are not identified with one another; each has its own separate place in the cosmic realm and the human realm respectively. In the same way, in D386, the sun‟s rays resemble Délie‟s hair, and its dazzling midday strength resembles her dazzling eyes, but Délie and the sun are not represented as being identical: Quand Apollo après l‟Aulbe vermeille Poulse le bout de ses rayons dorez, Semble à mon œil, qui lors point ne sommeille, 19 Throughout this essay I cite Gérard Defaux‟s edition of the Délie (Geneva: Droz, 2004). 14 Veoir les cheveulx, de ce Monde adorez, Qui par leurs noudz de mes mortz decorez M‟ont à ce joug jusqu‟à ma fin conduyct. Et quand après à plaine face il luyt, Il m‟est advis, que ie voy clerement Les yeulx, desquelz la clarté tant me nuyt, Qu‟elle esblouyt ma veue entierement. In these dizains, Délie‟s resemblance to the sun is congruent with a conception of the human-cosmos relation as one of analogy or similarity: the lady is apparently a human equivalent of the sun, performing a similar role for the poetic subject as the sun performs in the cosmos. These dizains fit with the notion that the human is similar to the cosmic, and with Staub‟s Cusan reading in which the human resembles the universe but „in a human way‟. However, the Délie does not always reiterate this particular conception of the relationship between the human realm and the cosmos. In other dizains the lady and the sun are conflated. For example, D92 opens in a similar manner to D386 in that the sun makes it seem to the ie as if he sees the lady who startles and dazzles him; as in D386, the sun is similar to Délie yet separate from her. However, when, in the final two lines of the dizain, 15 the poet evokes „tel Soleil‟, these words could denote the solar body itself or could have come to refer to the lady: Sur nostre chef gettant Phebus ses rayz, Faisoit bouillir de son cler jour la None : Advis me fut de veoir en son taint frais Celle, de qui la rencontre m‟estonne, De qui la voix si fort en l‟ame tonne : Que ne puis d‟elle un seul doulx mot ouir : Et de qui l‟oeil vient ma veue esblouir, Tant qu‟aultre n‟est, fors elle, à mes yeux belle. Me pourra donc tel Soleil resjouir, Quand tout Mydi m‟est nuict, voire eternelle ? In the opening lines, the ie tells us that when the sun shines in the late afternoon („la None‟), he imagines that he sees the lady; then, in the final two lines, he wonders whether „such a sun‟ („tel Soleil‟) can bring him joy, when every midday is to him eternal night. The argument of these final two lines might be construed as follows: the poet will be unable to gain joy from the sun (the cosmic body) because of the love for his lady which he has evoked in lines 3-8. In this reading, „tel Soleil‟ would refer to the solar cosmic body, as one would usually expect. However, the potential absence of joy from „tel Soleil‟ results from the fact that „tout Mydi m‟est nuict, voire eternelle‟ (l. 10): therefore, since literal cosmic midday could not in 16 any real sense be either night or eternal, „tel Soleil‟ does not seem to refer literally to the cosmic solar body. In addition, the idea of midday being night recalls the notion of a light so dazzling that it casts the ie into darkness, and such a light figures in the Délie as an image of the lady, for example in D386 (quoted on page 13) and D51 (quoted on page 17); indeed in D92 itself the lady has been evoked in her dazzling role (l. 7), whereas the actual cosmic sun was in „la None‟, the fourth quarter of the day, rather than at midday. So, „tel Soleil‟ seems to refer to the lady whose gaze might dazzle the poet into darkness, or „turn “midday” into “night”‟. Moreover, in D92 it is only the ie who is said to experience midday as eternal night („tout Mydi m‟est nuict‟): this suggests that it is his „sun‟ – the lady – who is here referred to as a „Soleil‟. On the other hand, in this particular dizain, the lady has not previously been referred to as a sun, and her dazzling gaze has not been foregrounded but rather features as only one of a list of her attributes: thus the reader does not necessarily have in mind an image of her as a sun, whereas the poet has definitely created an image of the cosmic sun casting its rays. So, by contrast with references to the sun in dizains 24 and 386, the expression „tel Soleil‟ does not refer unambiguously to either the sun or the lady. 17 Thus, in D92, „tel Soleil‟ has attributes of the lady (casting the ie into darkness), so that „Soleil‟ equivocates between referring to the solar cosmic body or to the supposedly human lady. Although D92 begins by comparing the lady and the sun to one another, by the end of the dizain there seems to be only one „sun‟. There is not an equivalent „universe‟ in the human realm which resembles the cosmic „universe‟: this is not an analogic relation between cosmos and human in which the sun and the lady would be similar yet nonetheless clearly maintain their difference. Instead, the macrocosm and the microcosm are collapsed onto the same signifiers. The sun and the lady of whom the sun reminds the ie seem to become one. In the same way, D51 begins by explicitly comparing the sun and the lady (or, at least, „si grand beaulté‟), but then proceeds to a discussion which is apparently of the lady, yet which uses so much solar vocabulary that the sun and the lady seem to have merged into one, or to occupy the same place: Si grand beaulté, mais bien si grand merveille, Qui à Phebus offusque sa clarté, Soit que ie sois present, ou escarté, De sorte l‟ame en sa lueur m‟esveille, Qu‟il m‟est advis en dormant, que ie veille, Et qu‟en son jour un espoir ie prevoy, Qui de bien brief, sans deslay, ou envoy, M‟esclercira mes pensées funebres. 18 Mais quand sa face en son Mydy ie voy, A tous clarté, et à moy rend tenebres. Here the lady is not cosmic „in a human way‟ („humaniter‟) but literally is the cosmic. Of course it is common poetic practice for the second pole of a comparison to be implicit and unexplained so that, for example, a poet says „sun‟ and means „lady‟. However, Scève moves between explicit comparison of the lady and the sun – implying their similarity yet separate existences – and implicit „comparison‟, or conflation of the lady and the sun onto the same signifiers. In other words, it is not simply that Scève uses solar vocabulary for his lady: rather he evokes and compares the sun and the lady, then confuses them so that the solar vocabulary might refer to either or both. He compares them, referring to their differences and similarities, but then conflates them, making it difficult to distinguish between them. Thus, I would suggest that, rather than being ontologically grounded in the notion of a relationship between the human and the cosmos based in similarity, Scève‟s cosmic images explore the nature of that relationship by reconstruing it as one of similarity and difference, then as one of identity. This reconfigures the same relationship as one of difference and one of 19 identity, and undermines any sense that one should be able to define relationships in terms of difference or of identity exclusively. Furthermore, other relationships of difference and similarity are also implicated in the shifting relations between the lady and the sun. If we accept that the solar signifiers in D9 refer to the sun as well as to the lady, then the midday sun is conflated with a different – even opposite (in the sense of antithetical) – point on the cosmic cycle: night. Furthermore, these opposites are in turn conflated with the eternal, which one can think of as „containing‟ all temporal points. The „sun‟ merges with its opposite as a result of the equivocation of „soleil‟ between referring to the sun and referring to the lady. In other words, the lady‟s shifting relationship of similarity and sameness to the sun in a sense changes the sun: that is, as a result of being in a shifting relation of difference with the lady, the sun becomes different, or opposed to itself. A similar process is arguably at work in D124, the dizain in which the lady is referred to as Apollo‟s „contraire‟: Si Apollo restrainct ses raiz dorez, Se marrissant tout honteux soubz la nue, C‟est par les tiens de ce Monde adorez, Desquelz l‟or pur sa clarté diminue. Parquoy soubdain, qu‟icy tu es venue, 20 Estant sur toy, son contraire, envieux, A congelé ce Brouas pluvieux, Pour contrelustre à ta divine face. Mais ton tainct frais vainct la neige des cieulx, Comme le jour la clere nuict efface. The lady and the sun, Apollo, are similar in their brightness, although the lady‟s brightness is superior. Furthermore, the lady is, in line 10, compared to the sun, or at least to „le jour‟. However, as we have seen, despite her similarity to Apollo, the lady is described as Apollo‟s „opposite‟, his „contraire‟ (l. 6). Moreover, it is suggested that the lady‟s brightness diminishes that of Apollo. Finally, when the lady is aligned with „le jour‟, the sun (Apollo) is implicitly aligned with the „neige des cieulx‟ and even „la clere nuict‟. Despite being similar to the lady, Apollo does seem to become something like her „contraire‟ and, moreover, is also something like his own „contraire‟, the night. Once again, a dizain opens by referring to a relationship of similarity between the lady and the sun, yet by the end of the dizain solar signifiers (in this case jour) have come to refer to the lady, and the sun has implicitly become something different from – or even opposite to – itself: complex relations of difference are introduced into the sun by the same token that they exist in the relationship between the lady and the sun. 21 As in D92, a resemblance between the lady and the sun undermines the sun‟s sameness to itself and perhaps also its opposition to night. iv) Relations of Opposition and Identity in the Ars Oppositorum By occupying the place of the sun, the lady troubles the cosmic hierarchy in which the solar should be higher than the human and opposite to the night. Bovelles also connects conflictual oppositio with undoing this hierarchy: oppositio reverses the hierarchy so that earth is high and fire is low (p. 58). Moreover, the interaction between different pairs of terms – which I have described in the Délie – is discussed more explicitly by Bovelles. In the Délie, then, the relations of difference between one pair of terms (the sun and the lady) affect the relationship between another pair (night and day). Bovelles‟s theoretical text is also concerned with how pairs of „opposites‟ function and interact: in the Ars Oppositorum, the relation between a pair of opposites is redefined by their relation to another pair of opposites. Bovelles describes how opposites – such as Deus (God) and nichil (nothing) – partake not only in a relation of opposition to each other but also in relations of sameness with other terms: thus Deus is in a relation of sameness with esse 22 (being), and nichil is in a relation of sameness with non esse (not being). Bovelles represents these relationships diagrammatically, as shown in fig. 1. Deus and esse are linked by a „line of identity‟, as are nichil and non esse. By contrast, „lines of opposition‟ link Deus to non esse, and nichil to esse (p. 64). Bovelles explains that these „lines of opposition‟ give rise to four more, since the two angles formed by their intersections form four further lines of opposition (p. 66). However, the relations of „opposition‟ represented by these additional lines „oppose‟ Deus and esse, which are also joined by a „line of identity‟, and which one would not expect to be opposed (at least if „opposition‟ is conceived, as it is here, as diversity and discord rather than simply as a relation): Similarly all the lines which form an angle, like those which go from God to both being and non- being, or from nothing to both being and non-being, or from God and nothing to being, or from God and nothing to non-being, are called lines of opposition, diversity, and discord. 20 Thus, the relation of identity or opposition between a pair of terms is altered by the placing of that pair in a relation with another pair, so that some terms are „joined‟ to one another by both identity and opposition. 20 „Similiter et quecunque faciunt angulum ut que a deo simul ad esse et non esse, vel que a nichilo ad esse et non esse, aut que a deo et nichilo ad esse, aut a deo et nichilo ad non esse producuntur, he oppositionis diversitatis et discordie line vocitentur‟ (p. 66). 23 This is rather like the process I have analysed in the Délie. Indeed one might place the pairs „ie‟ and „lady‟, and „sun‟ (or „iour‟) and „night‟ (or „darkness‟) into Bovelles‟s diagram in place of Deus and nichil, and esse and non esse; after all, Bovelles suggests that his Ars can be used to find knowledge about all sorts of pairs of opposites. In fig. 2, I have joined „lady‟ and „sun‟ with a „line of identity‟, since these two terms are similar; likewise „ie‟ and „night‟ can be joined with a „line of identity‟, since the ie often bemoans his state of darkness which results from his encounter with the lady-sun. While „identity‟ seems too strong a term for those instances where the lady and the sun (or ie and darkness) are simply said to be alike, it is appropriate for the instances where they are conflated. As a result of inserting these terms into the square, the lady and the sun become joined simultaneously by identity and by opposition, something which also happens in the very different context of the Délie. One could also place „sun‟ and „night‟ into the diagram so that they were joined by lines of both opposition and identity. Therefore opposition functions in similarly paradoxical ways in both the theoretical text and the poetic one: both Scève and Bovelles suggest that, as part of a dynamic relation between pairs of terms, opposition can co- exist with identity, and the existence of one relation can create the other. 24 As well as pointing to the dynamic nature of the relationship between different pairs of opposites, Bovelles also – like Scève – breaks down antithetical differences between binary pairs like darkness and light: I observed earlier that, despite Bovelles‟s inclusive definition of opposites, he uses many antithetical pairs, but, furthermore, he is also interested in breaking down antithetical differences, in uniting opposites. Bovelles uses the square of opposites to generate propositions, showing how it produces: „truth is true truth‟, „falseness is true falseness‟, „truth is false falseness‟, and „falseness is false truth‟. He then – presumably following his stated principle of proceeding from knowledge in one discipline to knowledge in another – similarly produces a set of statements concerning light and darkness: „light is luminous light‟; „light is dark darkness‟; „darkness is light darkness‟; and, „darkness is dark light‟ (pp. 120-2). While one might be able to construct some sort of commonsensical meaning from the propositions concerning truth and falsity, the statement that „light is dark darkness‟ has no obviously comprehensible meaning. Thus, like Scève, Bovelles not only uses the vocabulary of antithetical difference for „oppositions‟ which involve similarity or even identity, but he also has a strong interest in breaking down antithetical differences and in making opposites coincide. His statement that 25 „light is darkness‟ recalls the simultaneity of opposites in the Délie where midday is night. As we have seen, in the Délie it is the lady who introduces such complex differences into the world. In addition, the breaking down of opposites may have something to do with her „divinity‟. In D92, the conflated opposites of day and night are in turn conflated with the eternal: „Me pourra donc tel Soleil resjouir, / Quand tout Mydi m‟est nuict, voire eternelle?‟ More generally, like all Petrarchist ladies, Scève‟s lady has attributes not only of the cosmic but also of the divine; furthermore, arguably more so than in other contemporary French love lyricists, Biblical and theological language is used to refer to her and to the lover‟s relationship with her. 21 It is thanks to this divinised lady that oppositions are undermined or rendered complex and paradoxical. 21 On Biblical language in the Délie, and its connections to evangelist discourse, see Kathryn Banks, „The Cosmic, the Human, and the Divine‟, Part II, and Cosmos and Image in the French Renaissance; Marc Graff, „Nombres et Emblèmes dans la “Délie”‟, Réforme, Humanisme, Renaissance: Bulletin de l’Association d’Étude sur l’Humanisme, la Réforme et la Renaissance (France du centre et du sud-est), 12 (1980), pp. 5-12; Jerry C. Nash, „Maurice Scève et la poésie paradisiaque‟, in Il Rinascimento a Lione, ed. by Antonio Possenti and Giulia Mastrangelo (Rome: Edizioni Dell‟Ateneo, 1988), two vols, vol. II, pp. 779-94; Lance K. Donaldson-Evans, „“Love Divine, All Loves Excelling”: Biblical Intertextualities in Scève‟s “Délie”‟, French Forum, 14 (1989), pp. 5-15; Cynthia Skenazi, Maurice Scève et la pensée chrétienne (Geneva: Droz, 1992); Defaux, „La Myrrhe, l‟aloès et la manne: pour une lecture mariale de 26 In the Ars – which belongs of course to a discourse very different from that of love lyric – the coincidence of opposites is not linked in any way to the erotic; however, it does point towards the divine. In the thought of Nicholas of Cusa – an important influence upon Bovelles – some sort of knowledge of God can be achieved through a vision of the coincidence of opposites. 22 In early sixteenth-century France, God is again described in ways which break down opposites, and the apparent paradoxes of such mystical language are particularly strikingly manifested in the writing of Guillaume Briçonnet, to whom the dedicatory letter of Bovelles‟s De Délie‟, in Première poésie française de la Renaissance: autour des puys poétiques normands. Actes du colloque de Rouen, 30 Septembre – 2 Octobre 1999, ed. by Jean-Claude Arnould and Thierry Mantovani (Paris: Champion, 2003), pp. 243-61; id., „De Marie à Délie: le cèdre, le venin, la licorne et la colonne du Dieu vivant‟, in Ronsard, figure de la variété: en mémoire d’Isidore Silver, ed. by Colette Winn (Geneva: Droz, 2002), pp. 27-51; id., „(Re)visiting Délie: Maurice Scève and Marian poetry‟, Renaissance Quarterly, 54.3 (2001), pp. 685-739; id., „Du nouveau sur Délie: Maurice Scève et la poésie mariale‟, A French Forum: mélanges de littérature française offerts à Raymond et Virginia La Charité, ed. by Gérard Defaux and Jerry C. Nash (Paris: Klincksieck, 2000), pp. 179-94; id., „L‟Idole, le poète et le voleur de feu: erreur et impiété dans Délie‟, French Forum 18 (1993), pp. 261-95. Defaux‟s articles are reproduced in the introduction to his edition of the Délie (Geneva: Droz, 2004), two vols, vol. I. 22 See Maurice de Gandillac, „Lefèvre d‟Étaples et Charles de Bouelles, lecteurs de Nicolas de Cues‟, in L’Humanisme français au début de la Renaissance: Colloque international de Tours (XIVe stage) (Paris: J. Vrin, 1973), pp. 155-71 (165-6). 27 Sapiente is addressed. 23 Bovelles‟s statement that „light is dark darkness‟ recalls such writing, and appears to represent one of the expressions of „divine mystery‟ alluded to in the dedicatory letter of the Ars (p. 34). Certainly, in the final lines of the Ars Oppositorum, the coincidence of opposites is considered to be a work of God. 24 Furthermore, in Bovelles‟s Divinae caliginis liber (Book of Divine Darkness) of 1526 – which is deeply indebted to Pseudo-Denys – the coincidence of these opposites of light and darkness is clearly situated in the divine. One might argue then, that in both the Ars and the Délie complex articulations of difference are motivated at least in part by the desire to express the divine; unfortunately considerations of space prevent me from investigating this further here. Another focus for further study is that both texts explore opposition‟s relationship not only with the divine but also with the human: both express a deep interest in the relationship between difference and the human subject, and in the respective roles of nature and 23 For Briçonnet‟s representation of the coincidence of light and darkness, see, for example, letter six from Briçonnet to Marguerite de Navarre, in Guillaume Briçonnet. Marguerite d’Angoulême. Correspondance (1521-1524), two vols, vol. I: Années 1521-1522, pp. 34-6. 24 „Deo honor qui … fecit omnia duo unum contraunum‟: „Honour to God who … has made all things double, one and their opposite‟ (p. 176). See Jean-Claude Margolin, „Ombre et lumière dans la pensée de Charles de Bovelles‟, in Ombres et lumières de la Renaissance: Colloque du Puy-en-Velay (8 et 9 septembre 1997) (Puy: Conseil général de la Haute-Loire, 1998), pp. 25-42 (25-27). 28 human cognition in establishing differences. I would argue that, for both writers, causality and cognition seem to overlap in function, as if human attempts to establish difference might actually alter the world; yet, in the Délie the ie suffers intensely from difference, whereas, in the Ars, the human subject is privileged above the natural world in his relationship with difference. I will discuss these issues in a future essay but, as far as this one is concerned, I have aimed to demonstrate that the Délie and the Ars share an interest in undermining antithetical difference, in confusing it with other modes of difference, and ultimately in challenging the way we conceive of differences and identities. 29 Fig. 1 Fig. 2 
work_v6hv4rnymvebbbxpcpffp3lona	----	HUNGARIAN STUDIES 21. Nemzetközi Magyar Filológiai Társaság. Akadémiai Kiadó Budapest [2007] HStud21 (2007)1-2. 261-295 DOI: 10.1S566/HStud.2i. 2007.1-2.12 THE INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE IN THE DUAL MONARCHY M I H Á L Y S Z E G E D Y - M A S Z Á K Eötvös Loránd University, Budapest Hungary "Erschütternd ist der Untergang des Geschlechts." ("Shocking is the decline of mankind." Georg Trakl: Heliari) The intellectual and artistic culture of the Dual Monarchy was marked by a diversity and richness that was inseparable from the multi-ethnic and multilingual naUire of the Habsburg territories. As attempts to integrate the variety of cultural products of the Monarchy into a coherent identity run the risk of oversimplification, the follow­ ing article offers a discussion of the works of several individual authors, artists, composers, philosophers, and scientists, locating these works within often divergent intellectual and artistic trends the broad range of which may be the single most con­ spicuous feature of the cultural identity of the Habsburg Empire. It presents the leg­ acy of the Dual Monarchy as one rich in diverse contributions to the cultures of Eu­ rope and the world. Keywords: Austria, Austria-Hungary, Austro-Hungary, Dual Monarchy, Habs­ burg, multilingual, literature, visual arts, music, philosophy, psychoanalyses, Zion­ ism, cultural history 1. The Identity of Austrian Culture "I think the good Austrian (Grillparzer, Lenau, Bruckner, Labor) is particularly hard to understand. In a sense subtler than anything else, and its truth never leans towards plausibility (ist nie auf Seiten der Wahrscheinlichkeit)" (Wittgenstein 1981, 3). On the face of it, this remark made by Ludwig Wittgenstein (1889— 1951) in 1929 is about Austria. In fact, the list of names suggests that the philoso­ pher evoked memories of the cultural legacy of the entire Habsburg Monarchy. Niebsch von Strehlenau, known in German literature as Nikolaus Lenau (1802-1850), the grandson of a member of the German bourgeoisie of Pest, was born in the Southern region of the historical kingdom of Hungary and exerted a strong influence on Sándor Petőfi (1823-1849), especially with his poems pre­ senting the plain land of the Carpathian basin. One of Schönberg's teachers, Josef Hungarian Studies 21/1-2 (2007) 0236-6568/S20.00 © 2007 Akadémiai Kiadó. Budapest 262 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK Labor (1842-1914), the blind composer, organist, and pianist brought to the Wittgenstein home by the philosopher's mother Leopoldine (née Kalmus), was a Czech musician. If one remembers that Ein treuer Diener seines Herrn (A Faithful Servant of his Master, 1830), one of the outstanding works by the Viennese play­ wright Franz Grillparzer (1791-1872), is about well-known incidents of Hungar­ ian history and the tension between Hungarians and their Western neighbours, the conclusion is inescapable that Wittgenstein's statement is about the cultural iden­ tity of the multi-ethnic and multilingual Habsburg Empire. The philosopher's list of names refers to literature and music. Although there have been attempts to find the features specific to Austrian culture in the sphere of ideas, it is doubtful whether one can speak of a specific Austrian school of philos­ ophy on the basis of a complex of criteria consisting of empiricism, "Sprach- kritik" (critique of language), the rejection of Kantianism, and strong reservations about irrational approaches to existence (Neumer 2004, 103, 125). Since my field is not philosophy, it cannot be my task to dispute the arguments for or against the existence of a way of thinking specific to the Dual Monarchy. All I can say is that the multilingual nature of this region may be responsible for the rise of theoretical speculations about language, starting with Fritz Mauthner (1849-1923), an apos­ tate Jew born in Bohemia who wrote novels, short stories, and plays and published several works on language, among them a three-volume Beiträge zu einer Kritik der Sprache {Contributions to a Critique of Language, 1901-1902) and Die Sprache {Language, 1907). Relying on "Völkerpsychologie" (the psychology of peoples), he took issue with the ideal of a common pattern underlying all lan­ guages and developed a cultural relativism. There is no reason to believe that Dezső Kosztolányi (1885-1936), poet, novel­ ist, short-story writer, essayist, and translator, was familiar with Mauthner's works. Born in Szabadka (today Subotica, in Voivodina), this Hungarian writer was brought up in a region in which Hungarian, German, Serbian, and possibly even other languages (Slovak and Romanian) were spoken. His language-based cultural relativism resembled not only Mauthner's ideas but also those of Karl Popper (1902-1994), born and educated in Vienna. Popper's argument that "a precise translation of a difficult text simply does not exist", his claim that "if the two languages have a different structure, some theories may be almost untranslat­ able (as Benjamin Lee Whorf has shown so beautifully)" (Popper 1982, 24) are strikingly similar to Kosztolányi's thesis that "translation is always distortion", either on the level of the signified or on that of the signifier (Kosztolányi 2002, 511-512). In view of the multilingual nature of the Habsburg Empire, it is understandable that translation was a widely discussed issue. Since German served as the medium of communication, any approach to the culture of the region has to consider the difference between German and other languages. The translation of the culture of DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 263 the Dual Monarchy is partly a linguistic operation. Some of the key terms of the Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus, the first major work by the Viennese philoso- pher Ludwig Wittgenstein, published in 1921 but written earlier - such as "Bild" and its associated form "abbildenden internen Beziehung", "stellen dar", or "stellen vor" - go back to earlier thinkers and are virtually untranslatable. In a French philosopher's version the relevant expression is "cette relation interne de représentation" (Granger 1969, 106), whereas in C. K. Ogden's English rendering the same words appear as "pictorial internal relation". Both could be called mis- leading. Leo Black, the translator of the essays of the Austrian composer Arnold Schönberg (1874-1951), had serious difficulties in trying to find English equiva- lents for not only "Darstellung" but also "Anschauung". I would even raise doubts about the same translator's thesis that '"Ideas' for Gedanken is easy enough" (Schoenberg 1984, 18). The equivalents of "Setzkunst" and "Satzkunst": "the craft of scoring" and "the craft of composing" (Schoenberg 1984, 323) are no less unsatisfactory. Such examples may explain why in his later years Schönberg pre- ferred to write in English rather than ask for a translation. Other examples could also confirm that the multilingual situation in his homeland may have led Wittgenstein to the thesis he formulated in his later years: "Every sign by itself (allein) seems dead. What gives it life? - In use it is alive (lebt es)" (Wittgenstein 1974, 128). Of course, the difficulties in interpreting the culture of the Monarchy cannot be reduced to linguistic matters. "One should never forget that what one learns in school about history is the truth only insofar as it does not interfere with the politi- cal, philosophical, moral or other beliefs of those in whose interest the facts are told, coloured or arranged" (Schoenberg 1984, 239). Schönberg made this warn- ing in a lecture delivered in the United States, at a time he became exposed to dif- ferent views on the Habsburg state abolished after World War I. Undoubtedly, even those educated in the Dual Monarchy differed in their retrospective evalua- tions. Chapter 19 in Book I of the Klagenfurt-born Robert Musil's (1880-1942) Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften (Man without Qualities), first published in 1930, contains a letter in which Ulrich's father outlines plans to devote "the whole year 1918 to the jubilee of our peace emperor" (Musil 1970, 79). This irony is sup- ported by one of the standard works on the Austria of the early twentieth century. According to its authors, Wittgenstein "never overcame the crisis provoked by the collapse, in 1918, of the seemingly eternal framework of worldly falsehood into which he had grown up" (Janik and Toulmin 1973, 242). It is worth noting that the value judgment comes from the American authors of the book and not from the Austrian philosopher. In sharp contrast to Musil's interpretation of the Monarchy as a state so ethni- cally heterogeneous that it was doomed to fall apart, in Sándor Márai's (1900- 1989) A gyertyák csonkig égnek (1942, translated as Embers) it is presented as a 264 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK highly structured way of life, a mode of existence in which each participant had his or her proper place. The contrast is even sharper if one remembers that Márai belonged to the Hungarian community that was strongly influenced by the mem- ory of the 1848^19 revolution crushed by the Romanovs and the Habsburgs. In 1852 a statue was erected in the fortress of Buda in memory of Heinrich Hentzi, the Austrian general who died in May 1849 when the Hungarian revolutionary army recaptured the fortress from the Austrians. Many Hungarians viewed this monument as a symbol of the humiliation of their people. In Kosztolanyi's short novel Pacsirta {Skylark, 1924) the reader is reminded of this. Márai, of a later gen- eration, refrained from any allusion to 1848-49. By 1942 many Hungarians be- came convinced that for their community conditions in the Dual Monarchy were favourable to those of the period between the two world wars. The fact that since the 1990s Embers has become popular in Italian, German, and English translation is inseparable from the current nostalgia for the Dual Monarchy. Márai's interpre- tation closely resembles that of Stefan Zweig (1881-1942). His idealized descrip- tion of Vienna as a system of concentric circles also dates from the time of World War II: Die kaiserliche Burg war das Zetrum nicht nur im räumlichen Sinn, sondern auch im kulturellen der Übernationalität der Monarchie. Um diese Burg bildeten die Palais des österreichischen, polnischen, tschechischen, ungarischen Hochadels gewissemaßen den zweiten Wall. Dann kam die 'gute Gesellschaft', bestehend aus dem kleine- ren Adel, der hohen Beamtenschaft, der Industrie und den 'alten Familien', darunter dann das Kleinbürgertum und das Proletatiat. (The imperial castle was the centre of the supranationality of the Monarchy, not only in a spatial but also in a cultural sense. Around this castle the palaces of the Austrian, Polish, Czech, and Hungarian aristocrats formed a kind of second wall. Then came the 'good soci- ety', consisting of the lesser nobility, the high-raking civil servants, the industrialists, the 'old families', and finally the lower bourgeoisie and the workers. Zweig 1981, 31-32). These words came from a man of culture for whom the Dual Monarchy "war das goldene Zeitalter der Sicherheit" ("meant the golden days of certainty", Zweig 1981, 25). As a Jew of Moravian origin, he felt at home in Vienna. In his view the Habsburg Empire had been destroyed by the Great Powers. It repre- sented a tolerant world that always welcomed the new settlers. Its disappearance meant a qualitative loss for human culture. Shortly after he had written about this loss, Zweig committed suicide with his wife in Brazil, a country in which he re- mained an outsider. Some of the Western interpretations of the culture of the Dual Monarchy were based on more or less explicitly Marxist preconceptions, on the idea that culture DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 265 was the product of politics. Carl E. Schorske's assumption that "the growth of a new higher culture seemed to take place in Austria as in a hothouse, with political crisis providing the heat" (Schorske 1980, xxvii) is a telling example. The abun- dance of the cultural products of the Monarchy obstructs their systematic presen- tation in a short chapter; therefore, a somewhat arbitrary procedure must be used here. I am under no illusion that what follows is any more than a summary that gives no justice to all the important fields of cultural activity. With a certain self-irony, 1 could quote the great poet Rainer Maria Rilke (1875-1926), who maintained "daß man nicht das Recht hatte, ein Buch aufzuschlagen, wenn man sich nicht verpflichtete, alle zu lesen" ("that one has no right to open a book unless one obliges oneself to read all books", Rilke 1997, 167). In 1958 the outstanding musician Pierre Boulez gave a list of the five greatest composers of the twentieth century. The fact that four of them (Schönberg, Bartok, Webern, and Berg) were born and developed their style in the Dual Mon- archy (Boulez 1966, 34) is a testimony to the eminence of the musical culture of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. In 1970 the Viennese Secession Exhibition at the Royal Academy in London drew attention to the international significance of Vi- ennese Art Nouveau. The literature of the Dual Monarchy is widely read all over the world. No less spectacular were the achievements in science. One example is the con- tribution of Ernst Mach (1838-1916). Bom in Brunn (today Brno), this experi- mental physicist taught in Graz and Prague before being invited to the University of Vienna in 1895. His criticism of Newton's theory of absolute space and time and his philosophy of science, his Die Mechanik in ihrer Entwicklung (1883, translated as The Science of Mechanics), Die Analyse der Empfindungen {Analy- sis of Sensations, 1883), and Erkenntnis und Irrtum {Perception and Error, 1905) had a far-reaching influence. Robert Musil wrote his doctoral dissertation on his works {Beitrag zur Beurteilung der Lehren Machs, 1908) and Hugo von Hof- mannstahl (1874-1929) attended his lectures. "Few great men have had an intel- lectual impact upon the twentieth century comparable to that of Ernst Mach", wrote Karl Popper (1902-1994) in his autobiography. He influenced physics, physiology, psychology, the philosophy of science, and pure (speculative) philosophy. He influenced Einstein, Bohr, Heisenberg, William James, Bertrand Russell - to mention but a few names (Popper 1982, 151-152). Mach's research proved to be crucial for fields ranging from optics, acoustics, wave theory, and the theory of kinaesthetic impressions to historical investiga- tions. His reduction of knowledge to sensation inspired Lenin to write his Materi- alism and Empirio-Criticism (1909), "a violent attack on the Russian adherents of this philosophy" (Koîakowski 1972, 151). Last but not least, Mach can also be re- 266 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK garded as a precursor to the logical positivists of the "Wiener Kreis" ("Vienna Cir- cle") of the 1920s. His opponent Ludwig Boltzmann (1844-1906) could also be named as one of the Austrian scientists of international fame who were many-sided in both research and teaching. Born in Duino (now in Italy), he was appointed to a chair of physics at Graz and then accepted a chair of mathematics at Vienna, in 1873. After three years he was back at Graz, this time as the chair of ex- perimental physics. In 1900 he moved to Leipzig, but in 1902 he returned to his chair of theoretical physics and was given Mach's philosophy course to teach. His statistical mechanics lies at the basis of twentieth-century thermodynamics, and his notion of a space of theoretical possibilities was an important source of inspi- ration for Wittgeinstein's Tractatus Logico-Philosophicus. Other fields could also be mentioned in this context. America owes its pre-eminence, in the medical sciences of our time, in no small part, to the thousands of medical students who traveled to Vienna at a time when the standards of American medicine were scandalously low, in order to study with such luminaries as Hebra, Skoda, Krafft-Ebing and Billroth (Janik and Toulmin 1973, 35). To add one more item, let us remember that most of the physicists who helped the United States in World War II were born and trained in Budapest. After 1920 many viewed the Dual Monarchy as a multi-national state that had failed. By the early twenty-first century interpretations have shifted: seeing the difficulties faced by the European Union, more and more people tend to appreci- ate the Habsburg Monarchy as an attempt at supranational integration. Such a re- valuation is also supported by the growing recognition of the intellectual achieve- ments associated with the state established in 1867. 2. Nationalist Ideology and Culture As is well-known, the life of the Monarchy was inseparable from nationalistic movements. On 18 February 1853 János Libényi, a young Hungarian apprentice, tried to assassinate Franz Joseph in Vienna. Between 1856 and 1879 a neo-Gothic church, the so-called Votivkirche designed by H. Ferstel, was built on the site of the incident. The 1867 "Ausgleich" ("Compromise") replaced the tension be- tween Austrians and Hungarians with a delicate balance, but Czech nationalism not only continued but increased in the last third of the century. Its adherents tried to forget that Prague "was a German cathedral city long before Vienna" (Janik and Toulmin 973, 49), and later ignored that great masters of the German language had been born in the Czech capital. Rilke must have heard some Czech spoken around him, not only in his native Prague but also in the Militär-Oberrealschule in DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 267 Mährisch-Weißkirchen (today Hranice), where he started his military education in 1890, fours years before Musil became a cadet there. One of his early poems, written in the 1890s and entitled Volksweise (Folk Tune) refers to a Czech melody one cannot forget even when living far from the region. Characteristically, Czech is associated in the poem with the singing of a peasant child. The emphasis is on the distance between the speaker and the singer. From the 1890s on Rilke spent most of his time abroad and composed his greatest works there, including the Duineser Elegien (Duino Elegies, 1912-1922) and Die Sonette an Orpheus (Son­ nets to Orpheus, 1922). No less divided was the population and cultural life of the Moravian capital. On December 6th, 1884, a performance of J. J. Kollár's play Magelona was given to celebrate the opening of the first Czech theatre in Briinn. On October 1-2, 1905, clashes occurred between Germans and Moravians in this city and a twenty-year-old carpenter's apprentice was killed. The statement that the "new anti-liberal mass movements - Czech nationalism, Pan-Germanism, Christian So­ cialism, Social Democracy, and Zionism - rose from below to challenge the trust­ eeship of the educated middle class" (Schorske 1980, 118) needs to be modified. Kálmán Mikszáth (1847-1910), a writer who earned national renown with the collections Tót atyafiak (Slovak Kinsfolk, 1881) and A jó palócok (The Good Palóc People, 1882), stories about the two main ethnic communities of his native Upper Hungary, shrewdly observed in his parliamentary sketches Club és folyosó (Club and Lobby, 1887) that the Slavs of the Monarchy "were rapidly moving to­ wards Russia" (Mikszáth 1887, 186) under the influence of the Pan-Slav move­ ment sponsored from St. Petersburg. Even the most popular Hungarian prose writer of the nineteenth century, Mór Jókai (1825-1904), became aware of the Great Power interests vested in the fate of the Slavic minorities of the Monarchy. As a young man he participated in the 1848 anti-Habsburg revolution, but later he came to approve of the 1867 Compromise. One of the reasons for this change in attitude was his growing awareness of the Russian desire to dissolve the Habsburg Empire. Committed as he was to optimism, in his novel A jövő század regénye (A Novel about the Next Century, 1872) he wrote about a victory of a future Habs­ burg, backed by the Hungarians, over Russia. The interrelations between politics and art are always of great complexity. Both the Pan-Slavism that undermined and the supranationalism that supported the integrity of the Dual Monarchy produced great art. Béla Bartók (1881-1945) collected not only Hungarian folk music but also that of other nations, including those living in Central Europe. Két román tánc for piano (Two Romanian Dances, 1909, 1910), published in Budapest, and Négy szlovák népdal for mixed chorus (Four Slovak Folksongs, 1916), published in Vienna, are just two among Bartók's numerous works inspired by the music of the neighbours of the Hungarians. In sharp contrast, Leos Janácek (1854-1928) focused on Slavic culture. In this sense 268 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK he was more consistent than his immediate predecessors, Bedrich Smetana (1824-1884), the composer of the comic opera Prodaná Nevèsta {The Bartered Bride, 1866) and the cycle of six symphonic poems Ma Vlast {My Country, 1874-1879), and Antonin Dvorak (1841-1904), whose overpopular Symphony in E Minor (1893), composed and first performed in the United States, has tunes al- luding to African American music. "Smetana's orientation was specifically Czech and thus appeared to Janácek to be endangering his Moravian regionalism and his pan-Slav ideals", as a Czech musician remarked (Vogel 1962,15). Although there is some continuity between the works of Dvorak and Janácek, e. g., the mixing of major and parallel minor is characteristic of both, the older composer's opera Rusalka (first performed in Prague in 1901) shows a far more superficial interest in Slavic folk music than Jenufa, Janácek's first major work in the same genre, performed in Brunn in 1904. In fact, Janácek's passion for old Slavic traditions dates from his early youth. In 1869 the millennium of St. Cyrill's death was com- memorated at Velehrad in South-Eastern Moravia. As a chorister of the Queen's Monastery of Old Briinn, the young boy participated in the festivities in memory of the struggle over the ecclesiastical language of Bohemia and Moravia, a strug- gle for political influence between Germans and Slavs. In 1873 Janácek was elected choir-master of the craftsmen's choral society named after Svatopluk, the somewhat legendary head of 9th-century Magna Moravia. This association, founded in 1868, one year after the creation of the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy, had obvious political purposes. In 1896, the year devoted to the millennium of the Hungarian state in Budapest, Janácek visited Russia, and in 1903 he organized, in Moravia, the folklore section for the Pan-Slav Exhibition in the city of the tzar. "I wrote the Violin Sonata in 1914 at the beginning of the war when we were expect- ing the Russians in Moravia", he remembered in 1922, and insisted that the high piano tremolo over the chorale-like part of the last (Adagio) movement repre- sented "the Russian armies entering Hungary" (Vogel 1962, 218). Janácek's love of Russian culture dominated his activity even in his later years: the three-part or- chestral rhapsody Taras Bulba (completed in 1918) was inspired by a story by Gogol, one his most successful operas Katya Kabanova (1921) by a nine- teenth-century play by Alexander Nikolaevich Ostrovsky, his First String Quar- tet (first performed in 1924) by L. N. Tolstoy's Kreutzer Sonata, and his last opera Z Mrtvého domu {From the House of the Dead, completed in 1928) by Dostoevsky's Zapiski iz myortvogo doma. Another major composition, the Msa Glagolskja {Glagolitic Mass, composed in 1926), a setting of an Old Church Sla- vonic version of the Latin ordinary, a ninth-century text by Cyril used in church services on 7 July (the day dedicated to Saints Cyril and Methods), affirmed the unity of all Slavs in an age moving away from that ideal. This work clearly shows DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 269 that Janácck's desire to return to the spiritual roots of Slavdom was part of a Ro- mantic legacy. Ironically, Liberalism was of some help to the cause of Pan-Slavism. In May 1913, it was discovered that the deputy director of the "K. u. K." (Imperial-and- Royal) intelligence, colonel Alfred Redl, was in the pay of the tsar. The fact that a General Staff officer had become a Russian agent in order to finance his homosex- ual life suggested that the sexual tolerance that was part of the Liberalism that made the Monarchy the centre of psycho-analysis penetrated all segments of soci- ety. Redl started his homosexual relations in a Cadet School similar to the one Musil attended. The explicit treatment of homosexual relations in a work like Musil's short novel Die Verwirrungen des Zöglings Törleß (1906, translated as Young Törless) would have been as impossible in Edwardian Britain or in the United States as the presentation of the extra-marital affairs of officers in a play such as Reigen (1900, translated as Merry-go-round and La Ronde), a popular work also known in film versions by the practising doctor, playwright, novelist, and short-story writer Arthur Schnitzler (1862-1931). The restricted-suffrage system kept some radical Pan-Slavic nationalists away from the polls but fuelled the anti-Liberal movements. Without much exaggera- tion, it could be argued that most of the leading writers of Slavic nationalism spent their formative years in Vienna or Budapest. The Ukrainian Ivan Franko (1856-1916), the author of Moisei {Moses, 1905), a long poem about a leader's service to his people, received his doctorate from Vienna but failed to obtain a po- sition at the University of Lemberg (L'vov) because of his socialist-nationalist declarations. The Slovenian Ivan Cankar (1876-1918), whose collection of po- etry Erotika (1899) was confiscated by the Bishop of Laibach (Ljubljana), also spent years in Vienna, and the Croatian Miroslav Krleza ( 1893-1981 ) was sent to the military academy in Budapest before he fought in Galicia, an experience re- flected in his Hrvatski bog Mars {The Croatian God Mars, 1922), a two-volume collection of stories that ridicules the Austro-Hungarian army. The Compromise between Franz Joseph and the Hungarians, whose revolution of 1848-49 almost undermined Habsburg rule, was based on the two largest lin- guistic communities of the region. Germans constituted 24 per cent of the popula- tion, Hungarians 20 per cent, and Czechs (the third largest group) 13 per cent. The fact that the eminent historian Frantisek Palacky (1798-1876) attended the Slavic Congress held in Moscow in 1867 indicated that even some of the most civilized Czech intellectuals sympathized with pan-Slavism. Around the turn of the century Vienna made significant concessions to Prague. From 1897 every civil servant working in Bohemia or Moravia had to be bilingual and from 1907 every male adult citizen living in these two provinces was given the right to vote. Such mea- sures constituted a disadvantage to the largely German speaking bourgeoisie, including the majority of Jews. 270 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK National identity was often a matter of personal decision rather than ethnic ori- gin. Bedrich Janácek, one of the brothers of the great Moravian composer, mar- ried Hedwig Schmied at Aspang (near Vienna) a couple of months before the out- break of World War I, "became a German himself and brought up his four chil- dren as Germans" (Vogel 1962, 275). Franz Herzog, born in the region that is called Voivodina today, became a very successful Hungarian author of narrative fiction and plays under the name Ferenc Herczeg (1863-1954). What is more, as a member of the Hungarian parliament he represented the interests of the Liberals of the Dual Monarchy. From the beginning of the new century some Slavic nationalists turned not to Russia but to Britain and France for support. Arguing that the Monarchy was a sat- ellite of Germany, they insisted that the break-up of the Habsburg Monarchy was needed to stop the German policy of "Drang nach Osten" ("drive towards the East"). Such was the substance of the propaganda launched by Eduard Benes, who in 1916 published a work entitled Détruisez l'Autriche-Hongrie in Paris. While it is true that the empire of Franz Joseph was strongly affected by such trends as Lib- eralism, Christian clericalism, socialism, and nationalism, Stefan Zweig was probably right in pointing out that the primary cause of the fall of the Dual Monar- chy was a decision of certain French and British politicians to abolish it. Louis Léger's Le Panslavisme et l'intérêt français (1917) proves that pan-Slavism was appreciated by some French publicists as an antidote to German nationalism. Freemasons, who played a major role in literary life, also asked for the elimination of the Habsburg Monarchy at their congress in Paris on June 28-30, 1917. To avoid the generalization that all Slavs sought the downfall of the Dual Mon- archy, it is worth remarking that Croats were divided. While some went to study at the University of Prague, where "they had been strongly influenced by T. G. Masaryk" (Kristo 2005, 76) and later organized such demonstrations as the burn- ing of the Hungarian flag at the Ban Jelacic Square in Zagreb in 1895 or the rebel- lion that forced Ban Károly Khuen-Héderváry to resign in 1903, others regarded as their goal the opposition to the law favouring the use of the German language, and Ante Trumbic argued for the political alliance of Croats and Hungarians dur- ing the 1903 session of the Dalmatian Sabor (Parliament). From the perspective of more recent history, it is hardly surprising that contradictory trends characterized the ideology of Southern Slavs. A few months before the "new course" of the Dal- matian Parliament, Milan Obrenovic, the pro-Vienna Serbian king, was assassi- nated and the Karadordevic dynasty opted for a pro-Russian orientation. Without much exaggeration it could be argued that Yugoslav nationalism was developed at least partly by artists. In 1910 the Dalmatian-born sculptor Ivan Mestrovic (1883-1962) and some of his colleagues arranged an exhibition in Zagreb under the title "Despite Unheroic Time" to promote the Kosovo myth. The next year Mestrovic, officially an Austrian citizen, exhibited in the Serbian pavilion in DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 271 Rome, thereby expressing his protest against the Dual Monarchy. Still, not all Croats joined Yugoslavism. After the assassination of Franz Ferdinand by a mem- ber of "Mlada Bosna", a terrorist organization under Serbian influence, some Croats fought against Italy, Russia, and even Serbia. The Croatian parliament never ratified the establishment of the Kingdom of Serbs, Croats, and Slovenes, declared by Aleksandar Karadordevic on 1 December 1918. History is liable to reinterpretation. This is especially true of the intellectual climate of the period of Pavao Rauch, appointed as Ban of Croatia by the Emperor in 1908. Robert Seton-Watson (1876-1956) described this Ban's régime as a per- fect example of Hungarian repression (Seton-Watson 1912, 6-8), whereas a re- cent Croatian interpretation ascribes reforms to Rauch that led not only to "im- provements to workers' social insurance, the slowing down of emigration, and the care given to the improvement of agriculture" but also to the strengthening of cul- tural autonomy (Kolar 2003, 154). "The evidence shows that the rule of Pavao Rauch had not been pro-Hungarian but that he worked in the interests of Croatia" (Kolar 2003, 156). This conclusion contradicts not only Seton-Watson's descrip- tion but also a Hungarian historian's description of the Scottish publicist as a "scholarly historian" and a "typical 'seeker of truth"' (Jeszenszky 1986, 325, 305). It is virtually impossible to decide to what extent German nationalism could be considered a reaction against Pan-Slavism. Georg von Schönerer (1841-1921), the author of a manifesto for a "Verein der deutschen Volkspartei", written in 1881, was the son of a man who had built Austria's first railway in 1828 and who in 1860 received his patent of nobility from the hands of the Emperor for his ser- vices. He combined German nationalism with demands for social justice. In the face of the growing Jewish immigration from Russia at the time of the pogroms, he turned to the United States for a legislative model for racial discrimination: the Chinese Exclusion Act of 1881. For some time Schönerer escaped censure by clothing his formulations in an anti-Russian dress that appealed to some people's fear of Slavic encirclement. He tried to seek a following in Northern Bohemia, where German workers "met competition from Czechs who were willing to work in poorer conditions for less pay" (Janik and Toulmin 1973, 57). There is no denying that aside from the strategic interests of the Western pow- ers the main cause of the end of the Dual Monarchy was nationalism, whether Slavic or German. As a British historian remarked, the crime committed by one young Bosnian in Sarajevo was hatched in a secret society, the Black Hand, which had been nourished on the idea of tyrannicide; it reflected the backward society from which it came (Mason 1985,70). The combination of the two factors was "neither inevitable necessity nor purely accidental" (Romsics 2001, 78). 272 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK Much comment on the Dual Monarchy "has been coloured by the knowledge of its political collapse" (Mason 1985, 30). There was a sense of decadence in the art and literature of the region, but the same feature was also characteristic of the culture of other European countries, including late Victorian Britain and fin-de-siècle France. Undeniably one of the works about the decline of the West was Entartung (1893), a book published in Berlin that became widely influential in English translation as Degeneration. Its author used the pen name Miksa (Max) Nordau (1849-1923). Born in Pest to an Orthodox family, he settled in Paris in 1880, published his articles in the daily Pester Lloyd (started in 1854), and later became the co-founder of the World Zionist Organization. 3. The Role of Jews in the Culture of the Monarchy It is widely known that Jews made a significant contribution to the culture of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. "The proportion of Jews or men of Jewish origin among University professors, medical men, and lawyers was very high," observed Karl Popper about his native Vienna (Popper 1982, 105), and one may add that if in the Austrian capital Jews "constituted five per cent of the city's population" (Janik and Toulmin 1973, 59), Budapest had an even larger Jewish community by the early twentieth century. The majority of Hungarian Jews lived in the capital, "they constituted 20 percent of the population" (L. Nagy 1994, 39). Austrian Jews assimilated to German culture. In 1919, when the architect Adolf Loos (1870-1933) asked Schönberg to contribute to the drafting of the pro- gram of the newly established "Kunstamt" (Ministry of Art), the composer started his short essay with sentences that implied an unqualified identification with the German nation: The most important task of the music section is to ensure the German nation's superiority in the field of music, a superiority which has its roots in the people's talents. These may stem from the fact that in for- mer times the German elementary school teacher was nearly always also a music teacher (Schoenberg 1984, 369-370). In the Czech lands the Jewish bourgeoisie preferred to belong to the Ger- man-speaking minority. Franz Kafka (1883-1924) was sent to a German "Gym- nasium" (state grammar school) and studied at the German university of Prague. All his works, including the nouvelle Die Verwandlung (Metamorphosis, 1912), the unfinished Der Prozeß {The Trial, written 1914-15), the short story Ein Landarzt (A Country Doctor, written and published 1917), and the novel Das Schloß (The Castle, written 1921-22), were composed in German. His writing is heavily indebted to German Romanticism: Die Verwandlung recalls several tales DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 273 of metamorphosis in the Grimm brothers' collection and Ein Landarzt to stories by E. T. A. Hoffmann. The interpretations of the Prague-born novelist, short-story writer, playwright, and critic Max Brod (1884-1968), which ignored the links be- tween Kafka's works and German Romanticism, reduced the message of the two novels to their (allegedly) theological meaning by overemphasizing the presence of the Jewish legacy in Der Prozeß and Das Schloß. Both works have suffered from one-sided, allegorical readings. As an English critic observed with good rea- son, "the great reputation of Kafka began through accounts by foreigners who were more interested in ideas than in language" (Gray 1973, 3). Before World War I the assimilation of the Jews seemed rather unproblematic in Hungary, where nationalism was fuelled by the memory of the suppression of the 1848-49 revolution, which had been supported by many Hungarian Jews. In 1881 an anti-Semitic member of the Hungarian parliament reported the disappear- ance of a Christian girl named Eszter Solymosi from the village of Tiszaeszlár. A ritual-murder allegation led to a public trial. The Liberal lawyer Károly Eötvös (1842-1916) won the case for the Jews. The anti-Semitic party was dissolved, the parliament passed a law in 1895 recognizing Judaism as equal to the other reli- gious denominations, and in 1904 Eötvös published his detailed account of the trial under the title A nagy per (The Great Trial). The fact that the Hungarian banking system and later even the war industry were controlled by Jews proves that assimilation could be pursued not only along the road of culture, but from our perspective it is more important to remember that the German publishers were gradually replaced by Jewish ones. For all but the last five years of its existence (from 1890 to 1919) the magazine A Hét (The Week) was edited by József Kiss (1843-1921), a poet of Jewish descent. Huszadik Század (Twentieth Century), the chief organ of the quickly developing social sciences, was edited by Oszkár Jászi (1875-1957), a fully assimilated Jew, and Nyugat (West, 1908-1941), the literary periodical associated with the new generation, was largely sponsored by Jewish industrial magnates. The examples of Ludwig Wittgenstein and György Lukács (1887-1971) indi- cate that intellectual life was not a substitute for the life of action: the fathers were successful businessmen and their sons became celebrated philosophers. Karl Pop- per's autobiography gives some idea of the growing division of the Jewish community: My parents were both born in the Jewish faith, but were baptized into the Protestant (Lutheran) Church before any of their children arrived. (...) This, however, meant giving offence to organized Judaism. (...) assimilation worked. (...) But racial pride is not only stupid but wrong, even if provoked by racial hatred. All nationalism or racial- ism is evil, and Jewish nationalism is no exception (Popper 1982, 105). 274 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK The last words may refer to Zionism. The founder ofthat movement was born in Pest. Most of the publications on Tivadar Herzl (1860-1904) have the funda­ mental weakness of ignoring the historical background of his upbringing. He was raised in a family that profited from the advantages of Hungarian Liberalism. In 1848 his uncle joined the Hungarian revolution which in 1849 led to a parliamen­ tary decision to emancipate Jews. The young Tivadar, however, was one of those who refused to assimilate to Hungarian culture. Even a more moderate form of en­ thusiasm for German culture in the cases of the poet, playwright, essayist, and film theoretician Béla Balázs (originally Herbert Bauer, 1884-1949) and the phi­ losopher György Lukács led to alienation from some Hungarians. The tragedy of the holocaust has made many forget that in the early twentieth century anti-Ger­ man and anti-Jewish feelings sometimes went together among Hungarians who wanted to escape from the political and cultural influence of Vienna. Having no desire to have any contact with Hungarian culture, Herzl went to study at the Uni­ versity of Vienna. For a while he was even attracted to German nationalism and to socialism. He moved to Zionism only in 1895, after he had covered the case of Al­ fred Dreyfus as the Paris correspondent of Die Neue Freie Presse. Interestingly, Richard Wagner's influence must have contributed to Herzl's plans for a Jewish state. As he wrote in his diary: "Moses' exodus would compare (to mine) like a Shrove Tuesday Singspiel of Hans Sachs to a Wagnerian opera" (quoted in Schorske 1980, 163). As the feuilleton editor of the Neue Freie Presse, Herzl was largely responsible for the introduction of a genre that originated in French journalism. The limita­ tions of this genre, its tendency to subjectify the objective, made intellectual rig­ our impossible. Together with the "Volksstück", the operetta, the well-made play, the occasional verse, and the pot-boiler novel, it represented popular culture. The statement that Jews played a prominent role in the culture of the Monarchy is a somewhat overworked platitude today. It is not always remembered that the Jews of the Monarchy did not constitute a homogeneous community, and occa­ sionally their contribution is emphasized to the detriment of the appreciation of non-Jewish scientists or artists. The following argument, for example, cannot be sustained: the Jews were allied to those few outstanding intellectuals behind whom there stood nobody, especially not the Christian middle classes, a social stratum utterly hostile towards these intellectuals. The characterization of "the Hungarian gentry that gambled away their (or, rather, their bourgeois wives') money" (Forgács 1994, 318) belongs to the legacy of a historiography that claimed to be Marxist. Péter Beniczky, who hired Gustav Mahler (1860-1911) in 1888, and Jenő Péterfy (1850-1899), the outstanding critic who praised Mahler's activity in the Budapest Opera House, belonged to the DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 275 gentry (Szegedy-Maszák 2007, 187), and at least three of the leading poets of the periodical Nyugat: Endre Ady (1877-1919), Mihály Babits (1883-1941), and Dezső Kosztolányi had a similar background. "Hungarian culture both in its ori­ gins and in its character is the culture of the nobility", Babits claimed in 1939 (Babits 1978, 2: 621), strenuously defending a legacy that survived into the twen­ tieth century. This declaration gave rise to a feverish debate during World War II, when some writers and artists relied heavily on the cultural heritage of the peas­ antry. Today all this is a closed chapter in history: both the gentry and the peas­ antry have disappeared. Whatever limitations the lesser nobility may have had, its lasting achievement cannot be denied. In Hungary this class constituted a consid­ erably more numerous layer of society than in other European countries, with the possible exception of Poland. In 1848-49 most of the leaders of the revolution who wished to abolish the privileges of the ruling class and emancipate Jews be­ longed to that class. The culture of the Dual Monarchy cannot be separated from the life style of the gentry. The thesis that Herzl's Zionism was "the result of his own initial anti-Semi­ tism" (Janik and Toulmin 1973, 59) may be far-fetched, but Jewish self-hatred has a claim to consideration. Otto Weininger's (1880-1903) Geschlecht und Charac­ ter (1903, translated as Sex and Character) was appreciated not only by Karl Kraus (1874-1936), one of the writers of Jewish parentage who were born in Bo­ hemia and moved to Vienna. It is not absurd to believe that this work may "have had some influence on Wittgenstein" (Popper 1982, 1). This eminent philoso­ pher's comments that "tragedy is something un-Jewish", Jews are "reproductive", and Mahler's music, in contrast to Arnold Bruckner's (1924-1896), is "worth­ less", "bad" (Wittgenstein 1980,1, 38,18-19, 67), and the opposition between in­ vention and reproduction may derive from Weininger's idea that the Aryan race is the embodiment of the masculine-creative, while the feminine-reproductive prin­ ciple corresponds to Jewish culture. In 1931 Wittgenstein mentioned Weininger as one of his sources, together with Boltzmann, Hertz, Schopenhauer, Frege, Rus­ sell, Kraus, Loos, Spengler, and Straffa. His argument that he himself borrowed everything from others may be linked to a nostalgia for tradition: Tradition is not something one (Einer) can learn; not a thread he can pick up when he feels like it; any more than one can choose one's an­ cestors (Wittgenstein 1980, 19, 76). Such an approach to tradition is strikingly similar to that of Schönberg: my music, produced on German soil, without foreign influences, is a living example of an art able most effectively to oppose Latin and Slav hopes for hegemony and derived through and through from the tradition of German music" (Schoenberg 1984, 173). 276 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK 4. The Impact of Socialism on Culture One of the paradoxes of history is that Jews both contributed to and under- mined the formation of what could be regarded as the specific culture of the Dual Monarchy. Socialism as an international ideology was as responsible for the end of Austro-Hungary as nationalism, and some Jews believed that socialism could make it possible for them to become politically active. In Vienna the Social Dem- ocrats founded a party in 1889. The Prague-born Victor Adler (1852-1918), the man whose party had become the largest political organization in the Reichsrat by the beginning of the twentieth century, was of Jewish origin. Zionism emerged in the wake of the rapid and large-scale assimilation of Jews. In so far as Jews did not seem to aspire to the status of a nation, they helped the in- tegration of the Empire. By the end of the century, however, some joined interna- tional socialism, which in the long run contributed to the end of the Monarchy. During the First World War there was an influx into Vienna of Jew- ish refugees from the old Austrian Empire, which had been invaded by Russia. These 'Eastern Jews', as they were called, had come straight from virtual ghettos, and they were resented by those Jews who had settled down in Vienna; by assimilationists, by many ortho- dox Jews, and even by Zionists, who were ashamed of those they re- garded as their poor relatives (Popper 198, 106). Shortly after the resignation of Charles IV, the last Habsburg monarch, the Communist leaders of independent Hungary put the industrial magnates in jail. On both sides the majority was Jewish. In the spring of 1919 even Karl Popper had converted to Communism, but after a few months he became an anti-Marxist. Several decades later he remembered this period in the following manner: It took me some time before I recognized (...) that the attempt to real- ize equality endangers freedom; and that, if freedom is lost, there will not even be equality among the unfree (Popper 1982, 36). This confession clearly shows that Popper was not familiar with one of the out- standing works of Central European Liberalism by one of those responsible for the foundation of the Dual Monarchy. The first volume of Der Einfluß der herrschenden Ideen des 19. Jahrhunderts auf den Staat by József Eötvös (1813— 1871) was published in Vienna in 1851, followed by a second volume that ap- peared in Leipzig in 1854. One of the main theses of this outstanding work is that equality and liberty are incompatible. József Eötvös, a titled aristocrat, fought as strongly for the emancipation of Jews as his namesake Károly Eötvös. Although anti-Semitism was much stronger in the Western than in the Eastern half of the Monarchy, the downfall of Schönerer DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 277 testified to the strength of Austrian Liberalism. When he broke into the offices of the Neues Wiener Tagblatt and beat up its staff he lost his title and was sent to prison. "When his party dissolved in 1889 it had only twelve hundred members" (Levy 1991, 113). Up to World War I German nationalism seemed to be a lame duck in comparison with socialism, although it is quite possible that some Jews joined the international movement out of fear of German imperialism. Needless to say, it would be a gross exaggeration to say that all the major so­ cialists were Jewish. From 1903 on the Czech Jaroslav Hasek (1883-1923) was a member of Prague anarchist circles. In 1915 he was called up, promoted, and won a medal. Having become a Russian prisoner of war, he joined the Czecho-Slovak Legion and eventually the Red Army. He is best known for creating the character Svejk, a cunning fool who appears in Dobry voják Svejk a jiné podivné historky (The Good Soldier Svejk and Other Strange Tales, 1911), Dobry voják Svejk v zajeti (The Good Soldier Svejk in Captivity, 1917), and Osudy dobrého vojáka Svejka za svétové války (The Fortunes of the Good Soldier Svejk in the Great War, 1921-1923). Svejk has become a quasi-mythic Central European type, a character resembling the heroes of picaresque narratives. His creation had been prepared in the popular anecdotes and feuilletons (some 1,500 short texts) published by Hasek before the Great War. A far cry from Hasek's popular prose is the work of Lajos Kassák (1887— 1967), poet, prose writer, and visual artist. The son of a technician in a pharma­ ceutical laboratory, he left school at the age of twelve. Five years later he moved from his native Érsekújvár (today Nővé Zámky, in Southern Slovakia) to an in­ dustrial suburb of Budapest, where he became acquainted with the working-class movement. In 1909 he took a boat to Vienna, then walked to Paris via Germany and Belgium, and then was expelled from France as a vagrant. This trip is re­ counted in A ló meghal a madarak kirepülnek (The Horse Dies the Birds Fly Out, 1922), a long free-verse poem, and in the prose autobiography Egy ember élete (The Life of a Man, 1928-1939), a work that sheds light on the life of the working class in the last phase of the Monarchy. In 1913 he joined the Hungarian Social Democratic Party and two years later founded A Tett (Action), an international avant-garde journal in Hungary. After it was banned in 1916 because of the paci­ fist materials that had been published in its pages, he started a new periodical enti­ tled Ma (Today). When Béla Kun, the leader of the Hungarian Commune of 1919, called Ma "a product of bourgeois decadence", Kassák protested in an open letter. As a result Ma was banned in July 1919 by the Communist authorities. Kassák's free verse and Constructivist paintings represent an internationalism that is radically opposed to Christian Socialism, an Austrian movement led by Karl Lueger (1844-1910), a man of humble origin who became the mayor of Vi­ enna in 1897. Unlike German, Slavic, or even Hungarian nationalism, Zionism, or Social Democracy, his movement strengthened integration within the Monarchy. 278 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK Today there is a square named after Dr. Karl Lueger at the point where the Stuben Ring and the Schubert Ring meet. Some may view this fact as a sign of Austrian opportunism. Undeniably, this mayor manipulated the anti-Semitic feelings of some lower-class citizens. He reputedly referred to the Hungarian capital as "Judapest", but his "dislike of Hungarians was stronger than his dislike of Jews" (Lukacs 1988, 95). His aversion to Hungarians and Jews as communities that would weaken the Habsburg Empire made a great impact on Hungarian intellectu- als, as is clear from Timár Virgil fia (The Son of Virgil Timor, 1921), a short novel by Mihály Babits. "Let him go to Judapest, where he belongs", says a right-wing Roman Catholic priest teaching in a provincial town about a boy of partly Jewish origin, a student who is under the influence of superficial Liberal publications coming from Budapest (Babits 2001, 87). Once more, the complexity of history can be illustrated by the fact that the statue adorning Dr. Karl Luegerplatz was put up by a Social Democratic adminis- tration after World War I in memory of the second most popular citizen of the Monarchy, a politician who with his ambitious program of public works had achieved much for his own class, the lower bourgeoisie. Thanks to him the British gas company that supplied Vienna was replaced by a native firm, public transpor- tation and the water system were improved, and orphanages, hospitals, and schools were built. 5. Trends in the Visual Arts and Music Lueger's activity was badly needed at the time of the rapid growth of the popu- lation of the imperial capital, "from 476,220 in 1857 to 2,031,420 in 1910" (Janik and Toulmin 1973, 50). Most of the public buildings and apartment houses of the Ring that separates the inner city from its suburbs were built in the decades fol- lowing the Compromise between the Emperor and the Hungarians. The Rathaus (City Council Building), designed by Friedrich Schmidt, was built in the years 1872-1883 ; the Hofburgtheater (Imperial Theatre), designed by Gottfried Semper and Carl Hasenauer, between 1874 and 1888; the University, designed by Hein- rich Forstel, between 1873 and 1884; and the Reichstrat (Parliament), designed by the Danish Theophil Hansen, between 1874 and 1883. The political, educational, and cultural functions of these public buildings symbolized the rise of the bour- geoisie in contrast to the churches, the Hofburg, and the aristocratic palais of the inner city. The eclecticism of the Ring marked a departure from the Gothic style of the Cathedral of St. Stephen and the baroque architecture of the Burg. In 1914, "72 of the Weierstrass's 478 privately owned buildings were in the hands of cor- porate owners" (Schorske 1980, 60). Sometimes it is suggested that the eclecti- cism of the Ring was in sharp contrast with the later Art Nouveau. This is a simpli- DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 279 fication. One should recognize a partial continuity in the motives behind the partly pseudo-Greek, partly pseudo-Roman Reichstrat, the neo-Renaissance University, the neo-Baroque Burgtheater, and the neo-Byzantine style in some paintings by Gustav Klimt (1862-1918). Having made his fame as a representative of history painting, after his two visits to Ravenna, where he viewed the mosaics of San Vitale, he turned to Byzantine mosaics for inspiration when subscribing to a two-dimensional sense of space. In 1886-1888, together with his brother Ernst and Franz Matsch he made a series of ceiling paintings for the grand stairway of the Burgtheater. In 1888 the City Council commissioned Gustav Klimt and Franz Matsch to paint the auditorium of the old Burgtheater with such illustrious figures as the actress Katharina Schratt (the Emperor's mistress), Lueger, and the famous surgeon Theodor Billroth. Two years later he was awarded the Emperor's Prize. The following year Klimt was asked to decorate the Kunsthistorisches Museum and in 1894 the Ministerium für Kultur und Unterricht (Ministry of Culture and Education) invited him to design three ceiling paintings for the hall of the Univer- sity. By the time he executed this commission (1898-1904) Klimt had become the leader of the Secession movement, a group of nineteen artists which had its first show in 1897. In 1900 the movement was represented at the Paris International Exhibition. The fact that Klimt was commissioned to make mosaics for the Palais Stoelet in Brussels (1910) was further proof that Austrian Art Nouveau met with international recognition. Like the Pre-Raphaelites, the Viennese Art Nouveau artists met with some re- sistance, but represented a fully institutionalized trend that evolved gradually from the official culture of the state. The major catalyst in this process was the im- pact of Richard Wagner and Friedrich Nietzsche. One of the University ceiling paintings, Philosophy (1900), clearly refers to Erda in Das Rheingold and to "Das andere Tanzlied", a poem at the end of Part III in Also sprach Zarathustra, a text set to music by Gustav Mahler, in the second movement ("Sehr Langsam. Misterioso") of the "Zweite Abteilung" of his Third Symphony, composed in 1895-1896 and first performed in 1902. In his later career Klimt was also supported by the haute bourgeoisie. He painted a series of portraits, among them one of Margaret Stonborough-Wittgen- stein (1905, Neue Pinakothek, Munich), sister of the philosopher. In his portrait both the person of the subject and the environment referred to earlier art: in the Portrait ofFritza Riedler (1906, Österreichisches Galerie, Vienna) the window that frames the subject's face resembles the headdress in Velazquez's Portrait of Queen Mariana of Austria (1646), while the geometrical forms of the dress and the background in the first version of the Portrait of Adele Bloch-Bauer (1907, Österreischisches Galerie, Vienna) derive from the abstract cells on Byzantine mosaics. When Klimt was criticized from the perspective of Classical Greek art, he was defended by the outstanding historian Franz Wickhoff (1853-1909), who 280 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK rehabilitated late Roman art and argued for a cultural relativism. What he, to- gether with Alois Riegl (1858-1905), suggested was that the history of art could not be interpreted in terms of progress and decadence. If Klimt's paintings seemed to depart from the norms of certain historical periods, they also established conti- nuity with other eras. Borrowing historical style also characterized the architecture of Budapest. It was only in the twentieth century that such eclecticism was questioned in the name of functionalism. In 1918 the art historian Lajos Fülep (1885-1970) pub- lished an essay condemning both Semper and his Hungarian contemporary Miklós Ybl (1814-1891) for an emphasis on "'style' to the detriment of struc- ture", for "a mistreatment of the materials and the absence of construction". In his view the so-called "second Renaissance" of Semper and Ybl ignored the function of the buildings, and their eclecticism led to "an awful collection of apartment houses that imitated Renaissance palais" (Fülep 1974, 1: 277, 280-281). This at- tack was made at a time when the functionalism that culminated in the Bauhaus promised to introduce radically new ideas in urban planning. The twentieth cen- tury, with its totalitarian regimes, failed to realize such plans and the present age may look upon the buildings of the Budapest Customs House (1870-1874) and the Opera ( 1875-1885) with more favourable views. In comparison with Vienna, Budapest's late start in development actually had certain advantages, allowing the use of new technical means and the adoption of modern, liberal-spirited ideas of city politics, observed one historian (L. Nagy 1994, 49), and another went even further in em- phasizing the regional role of the city by claiming that during the last three de- cades of the nineteenth century it was the fastest growing city in Europe. From 1890 to 1900 its popu- lation increased by more than 40 percent. In 1900, with a total of 733,000 people, it had become the sixth largest city of Europe, and the largest one between Vienna and St. Petersburg (Lukacs 1988, 67). This may explain why the Hungarian capital (after the unification of Pest, Buda, and Óbuda in 1873) had become a more important cultural centre than Prague, a city with a more illustrious past. From the perspective of the twenty-first century continuity seems more strik- ing than discrepancy between the eclecticism of the later nineteenth century and the Art Nouveau of the years around 1900. Camillo Sitte's (1843-1890) critique of the Ring, expressed in his book Der Städtebau {City Building, 1889), is as redo- lent with nostalgia for the vanished past of artisan and craft culture as the ideology DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 281 of Ruskin and the Pre-Raphaelites, whose cult of pre-industrialism became the starting point for Art Nouveau in Vienna, Prague, and Budapest. Two European tendencies exerted a profound influence on the architecture of the Monarchy: the rise of art history and Richard Wagner's effort to create "Gesamtkunstwerke" ("total works of art"). Once again, continuity rather than rupture characterized the state of the arts: Gottfried Semper became Richard Wag- ner's theatre architect, the conductor and the scenery painter of the first Bayreuth performance of Der Ring des Nibelungen, the Hungarian János Richter (1843- 1916) and the Viennese Josef Hoffmann ( 1831-1904) were members of Sitte's in- tellectual circle, in 1875 Sitte himself insisted on the importance of Richard Wag- ner's advocacy of artisan values in his address to the Vienna Wagner Society (Richard Wagner und die deutsche Kunst), and in 1883 he adorned the ceiling of the apartment he came to occupy as director of the new Trade School of Vienna with scenes from the tetralogy. The partly conservative, partly revolutionary ideal of the artist as the regenerator of culture embodied in Die Meistersinger von Nürn- berg became the driving force behind the intellectual and artistic achievements of the Monarchy that represented a strong opposition to the utilitarianism of the rap- idly growing business-oriented society of the late nineteenth century. Schönberg characterized his sextet Verklärte Nacht {Transfigured Night, composed in 1899) in the following way: the thematic construction is based on Wagnerian 'model and se- quence' above a roving harmony on the one hand, and on Brahms' technique of developing variation - as I call it - on the other (Schoen- berg 1984, 80). Such a reconciliation of the legacies of Richard Wagner and Johannes Brahms did not characterize all Austrian composers of the late nineteenth century; one of Wagner's great admirers, the outstanding late Romantic master of "leider", Hugo Wolf (1860-1903), for example, decried the symphonies of Brahms in his writ- ings on music. The recordings of the composer-conductor Pierre Boulez have shown that one of the links between Richard Wagner and the second Vienna school was Gustav Mahler. Schönberg "at first considered Mahler's themes banal" (Schoenberg 1984,455), but later discovered this composer's ability to elevate himself to resig- nation, his thinking for orchestra, and the melodic construction in his symphonies. In 1941 Bartok pointed out the decisive influence of Wagner in his First String Quartet (1908-1909), and scholarship has confirmed his opinion (Vikárius 1999, 49, 104). Numerous examples could be cited to prove that for the sonata form Richard Wagner substituted the Leitmotiv, a structuring principle that even an op- ponent to German culture such as Janácek borrowed, and paved the way for the emancipation of (unresolved) dissonances. Composition with twelve tones meant 282 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK a further step, a way of structuring that made Schönberg 's school more radical than composition in other countries. He himself gave the following definition of the method of evolving the formal elements out of a twelve-tone "Reihe" ("row"), a medium of organization he used from 1921 : "From the basic set, three additional sets are automatically derived: (1) the inversion; (2) the retrograde; and (3) the ret- rograde inversion" (Schoenberg 1984, 225). Two of his pupils, the Viennese Anton von Webern (1883-1945) and Alban Berg (1885-1935) proved to be exceptionally original. In contrast to the monu- mental symphonies of Bruckner and Mahler, Webern's compositions are marked by extreme concentration. The third (Adagio) movement of Bruckner's Eighth Symphony (first performed in 1892) in a recording conducted by Pierre Boulez (Haas edition, DG 459 678-2) lasts twenty-four minutes and fifty-two seconds. The third piece in Webern's Sechs Bagatellen für Streichquartett (op. 9, com- posed between 1911 and 1913) lasts a mere twenty-two seconds in the interpreta- tion of the La Salle Quartet (DG 419 994-2). Webern's Fünf Stücke für Orchester (op. 10, 1913) last four minutes and thirty-six seconds in a 1992 Boulez recording (DG 437 786-2). Four of the five pieces last less than one minute, and the duration of the second piece is thirty-nine seconds. In such works tone-colour is given a prominence unprecedented in Western music. In the words of Boulez, the stylist- ics of Webern "was revolutionary before and continued to be so after the row" (Boulez 1966, 372). The extreme brevity of his works, the use of large intervals and silence may be among the characteristics of his unique art that present diffi- culties for human perception. This is why his music has never met with a success comparable to that of Wozzeck, Berg's highly structured opera based on the dra- matic fragments of Georg Büchner, composed between 1915 and 1921. This com- poser's "genius lay in resolving the tension existing between the idea of closed form and Wagner's continuous music-drama". The Leitmotiv plays a distinct role in this stage work, "really serving to elaborate forms and thus interpreting the dra- matic and the musical thought" (Boulez 1986, 374-375). In architecture the assault made on eclecticism comparable to the musical inno- vations of the second Viennese school and Bartok was launched in the last decade of the nineteenth century. In 1893 Otto Wagner (1841-1918) won a competition for a new development plan for the imperial capital. Two years earlier Ödön Lechner ( 1845-1914) and Gyula Pártos ( 1845-1916) won competitions with their plans for a City Council building in Kecskemét (in central Hungary) and for the building of a Museum of Applied Arts in Budapest. Both Otto Wagner and Ödön Lechner had successful historicism careers behind them. Otto Wagner's building of the Österreichische Ländesbank (1882-1884), for instance, has a Renaissance façade, and the apartment house Lechner designed for his father-in-law is in French Renaissance style (1871). DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 283 Even Otto Wagner's initiative cannot be called a form of counter-culture. In 1894, after the death of Carl Hasenauer, he was appointed Professor of Architec­ ture at the Academy of Fine Arts. Roughly in the years between 1894 and 1901 he worked as the chief architect of the Vienna railways system and designed more than thirty stations, as well as cuts, viaducts, tunnels, and bridges, giving a promi­ nent role to function, engineered structures, and such building materials as iron, glass, aluminium, and concrete. In Moderne Architektur (1895) he anticipated Fiilep's critique of historicism by arguing that in art every style emerged gradu­ ally from the previous one, so that eclecticism was an illegitimate way of filling a gap in history. Later developments undermined his argument. From a Postmodern perspective, Otto Wagner's idea of a linear development seems somewhat naive and dogmatic. Despite his commitment to technology, he was tempted to view art as a surrogate religion. Symptomatically, his younger associate Joseph-Maria Olbrich (1867-1908) was to design the House of Secession (1898) as a modern­ ized temple. The difference between the Art Nouveau architecture of Vienna and Budapest lay in some Austrians' hostility to ornament. The most important among them was Adolf Loos, born in Brunn. Although relatively few of his plans were actually re­ alized - the Steiner House in Vienna (1910) is one of them - , his writings, in which he argued against decoration, became influential after World War I, when the Bauhaus architects gave primary emphasis to functionalism. In this sense, Lechner was much closer to the mainstream represented by Belgian German Jugendstil, the Glasgow School, Belgian, French, Scandinavian, or North American Art Nouveau. Klimt's Salome (1909, Galleria d'Arte Moderna, Venice) and other paintings can prove that hostility to ornamentation was restricted to architecture. One of the distinguishing features of Klimt's art was the blurring of the distinction between figure and ornamental background. In fact, it could be added that the influence of this painter made even Otto Wagner contradict himself; gilded trees of life can be seen on the façade of his two adjoining Wienzeile Buildings (1898-1899). Following the example of the British Arts and Crafts movement, the Art Nou­ veau artists in the major cities of the Monarchy succeeded in undermining the op­ position between art and everyday life by putting a special emphasis on interior design and the applied arts. Czech glasses, art deco, metallic and crystalline ob­ jects of the Wiener Werkstätten, a crafts workshop established around 1903 and dominated by Josef Hoffmann (1870-1956), or the products of the ceramic fac­ tory of Vilmos Zsolnay (1828-1900) in Pécs, a city in Southern Hungary, trans­ formed not only upper-class but even middle-class homes. Such periodicals as Magyar Iparművészet {Hungarian Applied Art, from 1897), Kunst und Kunst­ handwerk, Ver Sacrum (both from 1898), Das Interieur (from 1900), and Wiener Werkstätten (from 1903) campaigned for a reconciliation between the aesthetic 284 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK and the useful. The ideal of the Gesamtkunswerk inspired numerous artists to ex- periment with different media: Schönberg exhibited portraits and landscapes with the Expressionists, Oskar Kokoschka (1886-1980) published Die träumenden Knaben (The Dreaming Boys, 1908), a fairy tale in verse with colour lithographs, and Kassák designed his books. If we want to assess the significance of the culture of the Dual Monarchy, we cannot help but conclude that it is more justifiable to emphasize the unity of con- servatism and innovation in the intellectual and cultural scene than to speak of a conflict between them. Clear-cut distinctions and turning points are ruled out by two facts: the period since World War I has shown that the same intellectual phe- nomenon can be read as representing continuity or rupture, depending on the in- terpreter's historical perspective, and the innovator in one sphere often had retro- grade views in another. To mention but one example, the satirist Karl Kraus, the founder and from 1913 sole contributor of the periodical Die Fackel (The Torch, 1899-1936) and the author of the visionary Die letzten Tage der Menschheit (The Last Days of Mankind, 1919), was consistently hostile to the painting of Klimt. One of the shortcomings in the historians' interpretation of the legacy of the Monarchy is the underestimation of the stratification of culture. In the second half of the nineteenth century, traditional opera became increasingly a minority interest; its élite audience of connoisseurs was able to follow it into the abstract and intellectual realm of Wag- ner and of post-Wagnerian music (Hanák 1994, 210). Such generalizations can hardly stand. The notion of "traditional opera" does not apply in any relevant way to the complexity of the interrelations between the earlier tradition of Italian opera and the successful development of national schools there were as different from each other as French "grand opéra" and Ger- man "Singspiel. The concepts of "minority" and "élite" are vague in a sociologi- cal sense. More than terminology is at stake here. The relevance of the adjectives that are supposed to characterize Wagner's art is questionable in view of the musi- cal and theatrical achievement that made the Bayreuth Festival a radically new in- stitution. Wagner's influence transformed the attitude of the public in the Monar- chy not only because of the composer's several stays in the Austrian and Hungar- ian capitals but also through the activity of such outstanding conductors as János Richter, Antal Seidl (1850-1898), and Gustav Mahler. Richter was the conductor of the opening performances in Bayreuth in 1876 and the first performance of Bartók's Kossuth Symphony in Manchester in 1904. Seidl led the campaign for Wagner's art in Zenészeti Lapok (Musical Letters, 1860-1876), published in Bu- dapest, and conducted the first performance of the Ring in the Hungarian capital in 1883. Mahler's interpretations of Wagner during his stay in Budapest (1889-1891) and Vienna (1897-1907) set an exceptionally high standard. In Bu- DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 285 dapest he staged most performances in Hungarian. While from the perspective of the present age this practice might seem questionable, around 1890 it certainly made opera more accessible to the wider audience. In Vienna Mahler worked to- gether with the stage designer Alfred Roller (1864-1935), who was also born in Moravia. In Budapest the composer-conductor succeeded in convincing the audi- ence of the importance of stagecraft and mise-en-scène, setting an example for Count Miklós Bánffy (1873-1950), who during World War I staged Bartók's first ballet A fábólfaragott királyfi (The Wooden Prince) and in 1918 his only o p e r a i kékszakállú herceg vára (Duke Bluebeard's Castle) (Szegedy-Maszák 2007a, 180-181). Both Roller and Bánffy were painters, and their work was closely related to Austrian and Hungarian Art Nouveau. The difference between the two was insep- arable from a difference in attitude towards peasant culture. While Otto Wagner spurned folk art, Lechner made use of the ornaments of peasant objects. At the be- ginning of the twentieth century some regions of Hungary still had an archaic peasant culture rooted in the distant past. In the summer of 1904 Bartok heard old Hungarian folk songs for the first time in a village in Upper Hungary (today Southern Slovakia). In 1906 Lechner published a manifesto insisting that "the Hungarian national style had to be discovered in the culture of the Hungarian peo- ple" (Lechner 1906, 6). At the same time, he referred to Finnish art and the activity of Otto Wagner and the Wiener Werkstätten. His goals were similar to those of Bartok, who published Magyar népdalok {Hungarian Folksongs, 1906) for voice with piano accompaniment with his colleague Zoltán Kodály (1882-1967). The similarities with Janácek's collecting of Moravian, Slovak, and Czech folk songs are undeniable. Among the works of both Janácek and Bartók one finds harmo- nized versions, more or less radically modified arrangements of folk songs, and original works containing elements of folklore. The Moravian composer's endeavour to instil into the future teachers a love of folk music which they could then pass on to the children in schools parallels Kodály's efforts to change educa- tion in music. 6. Literature and the Other Arts Nevertheless, an overemphasis on folklorism would lead to distortion. Just as Bartók's second ballet, yí csodálatos mandarin (The Miraculous Mandarin, com- pleted in 1919) begins with an explicit imitation of the noises of the metropolis, in the same way, urbanization made a great impact on Hungarian literature. A liter- ary historian cannot quite agree with the statement that the 286 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK city of the big tenements and brownstone schools, of the eclectic and ambitious public buildings, of millenary monuments and broad ave­ nues does not surface in the pictures painted or stories told of Buda­ pest (Forgács 1994,317). Counter-examples abound, especially in short fiction, but there are also novels that present life in the metropolis. A püspök atyafisága {The Bishop 's Relatives, 1889), Ödön Iványi (1854-1893) has scenes in such public buildings as the Par­ liament and the Stock Exchange; Midás király {King Midas, serialized in 1891- 1892) by Zoltán Ambrus (1861-1932) is about everyday life îfTafr apartment house; Budapest (1901) by Tamás Kóbor (1867-1944) is a naturalistic "tranche de vie" about the less prosperous of the two Jewish districts of the city; A kristály- nézők {The Crystal Gazers, 1914) by Kálmán Harsányi (1876-1929) is a roman à clef about the different intellectual circles of Budapest, including the members of the urban Art Nouveau group centred around Lechner. One of the most successful playwrights of the period, Ferenc Molnár (1878-1952), published several prose narratives about Budapest, including A Pál utcai fiúk {The Boys of Pál Street, 1907), a widely read and translated novel about one of the industrial districts of the city. The influence of urbanization was so strong that even Jókai felt an obliga­ tion to devote a work to the life of the petty bourgeoisie; Gazdag szegények {The Wealthy Poor, 1890) was even put on stage in 1893. Gyula Krúdy ( 1878-1933), a highly original and extremely prolific Hungarian writer, published numerous works of fiction about the Hungarian capital, including^ vörös postakocsi (1913, translated as The Crimson Coach), a novel about actresses. With the advent of the avant-garde links between urbanization and art became even closer. Kassák's free-verse poem Mesteremberek {Craftsmen, 1915) is a collective monologue of workers. A Keleti Pályaudvar éjjel {The Eastern Train Station at Night, 1902), by Tivadar Csontváry Kosztka (1853-1919), a major painter whose work represents a transition from Art Nouveau to Expressionism, portrays one of the new public buildings of a rapidly changing city. Advertisement was also transformed, and the painters who made posters tried to bridge the gap between high and popular art. The Hungarians who cultivated this genre were inferior to the Czech Alphonse Mucha (1860-1933), who spent much of his early life in Paris, the birthplace of the poster, although he was also one of the founders of Ver Sacrum. New forms of popular culture developed almost imperceptibly out of old gen­ res, especially in literature. The "Volkstück", a form of popular entertainment cul­ tivated by the Viennese Nepomuk Nestroy (1801-1862) and the Hungarian Ede Szigligeti (1814-1878), was transformed into such musical comedies as János vitéz {John the Hero, 1904). It is based on Petőfi's celebrated verse tale (1844), and music was composed by Pongrác Kacsóh (1873-1923). The success of this work was largely due to the acting of Sári Fedák (1879-1953), who sung the male title role. She was one of the most talented actresses of the early 20th century. DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 287 (Sadly enough, at the end of her long and spectacular career she was deported by the Communists.) Although several composers of the so-called Viennese operetta were Hungar- ian, the works of Ferenc Lehár (1870-1948) and Imre Kálmán (1882-1953) con- tained fewer "Hungarian" elements than Der Zigeunerbaron {The Gypsy Baron, 1885) by Johann Strauss Jr. (1825-1899), the libretto of which was based on a story by Jókai. Schönberg's main charge against this kind of popular music was that it asked for no mental (intellectual and emotional) effort. It "accommodated (...) to the popular feeling" and thus concealed the fact that "unvaried repetition" was "cheap" (Schönberg 1984, 128, 131). As early as 1909 he insisted that mar- ket-value was "irrelevant to intrinsic value". His rejection of popular culture be- came even more unqualified after he had been forced to settle in the U. S.: "ifit is art, it is not for all, and ifit is for all, it is not art", he insisted, and he added: "Popu- lar music speaks to the unsophisticated, to the people who love the beauty of mu- sic but are not inclined to strengthen their mind" (Schönberg 1984, 190,124,134). Such a conception implies that popular culture is characterized by addition, mere juxtaposition, and unmodified repetition, potpourri (a randomness that may re- mind some of what is meant by "bricolage" nowadays), whereas high culture is distinguished by "variation and development". In short, "the laws of art work in a way that contradicts the way the popular mind works". Serious art followed the principle of "never repeating without varying" (Schoenberg 1984,265,299,480). Much of the literature of the age could not meet such high standards. The litera- ture that was published often relied on oral culture. Jókai was a passionate collec- tor of anecdotes. Many of them appeared in the comic weekly Üstökös {Comet, 1858-1918). Two of its successors, Borsszem Jankó {1868-1936), read mainly by the lower middle-class, and Kakas Márton (1894-1914), were responsible for the development of jokes. In its best period Borsszem Jankó was edited by Adolf Ágai (originally Aigner, 1836-1916), an assimilated Jew. Between 1870 and the early 1890s it had a readership of 15,000-20,000. It often ridiculed the national minori- ties (including Jews). The most popular figure of Kakas Márton was the village mayor Gábor Göre, created by Géza Gárdonyi (1863-1922), the author of plays, short stories, and Egri csillagok {The Stars of Eger, 1901 ), a very popular histori- cal novel about the Hungarians' struggle against Ottoman occupation in the six- teenth century. In certain respects Budapest could not help imitating Vienna. The Ring and the café represent two forms of public space that played a major role in the literary and artistic life of both cities. They are the location of the first two scenes in the above-mentioned Die letzten Tage der Menschheit by Karl Kraus, a satirical "tragedy" in five acts that incorporates speeches and editorials from the newspa- pers. 288 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK The café represented journalism and the Ring public institutions; the two were so closely interconnected that the one without the other seemed of no avail. The huge conglomeration of scenes that Kraus composed with the intention of present- ing World War I in the form of an apocalyptic vision is closely related to journal- ism; several parts were published in Die Fackel before the whole work appeared as a book. If Weininger represented self-hatred, Kraus exercised another form of self-criticism: one of the targets of Die Fackel was journalism, the narcissism of feuilleton writing, the press and especially Die neue freie Presse, the most popular Viennese newspaper, which was infiltrated by political and business interests. In Vienna and Budapest artists and writers spent most of their time in cafés and clubs. Peter Altenberg (originally Richard Engländer, 1859-1919), whose five "Ansichtskartentexten" ("picture postcard texts") Alban Berg set to music in 1912, for instance, lived in the Café Central. Both the poet Ady and the prose writer Krúdy used the café as their workplace. It was only in 1914 that an important difference became manifest in the atti- tudes of the Austrian and Hungarian artists and writers. Among the Hungarians most were reluctant to fight for the Monarchy, whereas among the Austrians there were many who were ready to participate in the war. When the First World War began [Schönberg declared in 1950], I was proud to be called to anus and as a soldier I did my whole duty enthusiastically as a true believer in the house of Habsburg, in its wis- dom of 800 years in the art of government and in the consistency of a monarch's lifetime, as compared with the shorter lifetime of every republic. In other words, I became a monarchist. Also at this time and after the unfortunate ending of the war and for many years thereafter, I considered myself (...) a quiet believer in this form of government, though the chances of a restoration were at zero (Schoenberg 1984, 505-506). Because of his strong attachment to the Monarchy, Kokoschka joined an élite corps of the Imperial Cavalry in 1915. He felt convinced that for someone whose life and work were deeply rooted in the traditions of the Monarchy it was a natural obligation to fight for the survival ofthat state. His vision of the Monarchy resem- bled that of Stefan Zweig, and his approach to tradition was similar to that of Schönberg and Wittgenstein. In 1949, in a letter to an English student, he himself explained that his art originated in the Baroque culture that "was still a tradition alive" in his boyhood. He named Maulbertsch, Daniel Gran, Kremser Schmidt, the sculptor Matthias Braun, the architects Fischer von Erlach and Hildebrandt as his masters. This Baroque culture, of which still thousands of humble votives, shrines and crucifixes on the crossroads are witnesses, has saturated DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL A N D CULTURAL SCENE 289 me with the same mystic vein as you and your friends find in El Greco (Kokoschka 1992, 204). Additional evidence of the ambiguity of the opposition of modern versus con- servative could be the activity of Max Reinhardt (originally Maximilian Gold- mann, 1883-1943). Although he was born in Vienna, his first great success was a production of A Midsummer Night's Dream in the Deutsches Theater Berlin in 1905. Karl Kraus saw superficiality in Reinhardt's works. If one watches the film version Reinhardt co-directed in 1935, this criticism cannot be dismissed as en- tirely illegitimate, although it is possible that after his emigration to the U. S. the director had to make concessions to popular taste. His early productions repre- sented a reaction against naturalism. In 1906, in the Berlin Kammerspiele, which had no more than four hundred seats, he produced Ibsen's Ghosts with stage de- sign by Edvard Munch, the Norwegian forerunner of Expressionism. The photo- graphs that have survived suggest that his staging of the German writer Karl Vollmöller's The Miracle (London 1911, Vienna 1912) was characterized by re- markable visual effects. His plan to start a Festival in Salzburg with Hugo Hofmannsthal (1874—1929), was delayed by World War I. Kraus's attack on the first performance of Jedermann (Everyman) was at least partly directed against the text, Hofmannsthal's 1911 rewriting of the late medieval English morality. Other theatrical experts were impressed by the way the Baroque sculptures of the Cathedral Square were transformed into the allegorical characters of the play. In retrospect, Alfred Roller, who sometimes worked together with Reinhardt, might seem a less spectacular but more sophisticated artist. The surviving visual and verbal documents suggest that during his association with Mahler in the Vi- enna Hofoper (from 1903 on) his productions were highly innovative in their han- dling of the interrelations of space, colour, light, music, word, and gesture. He ex- celled not only in the interpretation of Richard Wagner's works; his Don Giovanni, first created on 21 December 1905, was especially original: the trans- formations of the same columns served as the background to all the scenes. No less remarkable was the activity of the Polish Stanislaw Wyspianski (1869-1907). During his visits to Paris (1890-1894) he became acquainted with French painting and theatre. His portraits, paintings, and drawings, as well as his furniture and stained-glass designs represent a Cracovian variety of Art Nouveau. They served as a kind of background to his theatrical productions. He was no mere playwright. Both Wesele (The Wedding, 1901), his most popular work, and Wyz- wolenie (Deliverance, 1903) ask for a wide range of extra-verbal effects, paving the way for avant-garde theatre. It is often argued that the dramatic and narrative works composed in the Dual Monarchy owed their inventiveness to the impact of psychoanalysis. Those who turn to psychoanalysis to explain art usually produce rather one-sided interpréta- 290 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK tions. As I have pointed out elsewhere (Szegedy-Maszák 2007b), the fundamental difference between the short stories of Kosztolányi and his cousin Géza Csáth (originally József Brenner, 1887-1919) is that Kosztolányi kept a distance from the conclusions drawn by Sigmund Freud (1856-1939), whereas Csáth, himself a practising doctor, was increasingly tempted to reduce his tales to case studies. Kosztolányi had reservations about the value of psychoanalysis for art that were similar to those of Kraus. It was hardly accidental that this Hungarian author was one of the earliest translators of the verse of his Austrian contemporary. Freud's literary contribution was twofold. He was a very prolific essayist who covered numerous fields, including the visual arts and literature. Several of his books exerted a decisive influence on literature. Die Traumdeutung (The Inter­ pretation of Dreams, 1900) changed the treatment of dreams. One could cite nu­ merous works, ranging from A gólyakalifa (literally The Stork Calif 1913), a short novel about double identity by Mihály Babits, to La coscienza di Zeno (The Confessions of Zeno, 1923), by the Trieste-born Italo Svevo (pseudonym of Ettore Schmitz, 1861-1928), the Italian translator of Freud's above-mentioned book. There is no denying that the rise of psychoanalysis went together with changes in the writers' approaches to their characters. Arthur Schnitzler, for instance, highlighted the life of instincts in a series of successful although somewhat super­ ficial plays presenting sexuality as liberated from moral values. He also experi­ mented with the interior monologue in such novellas as Leutnant Gustl (Lieuten­ ant Gustl, 1901 ) and Fräulein Else (Miss Else, 1924). Csáth published a study on psychic complexes (Az elmebetegségek pszichikus mechanizmusa, The Psychic Mechanism of Mental Illnesses, 1911), and in Anyagyilkosság (Matricide, 1908) and other stories he tackled the manifestations of repressed sexuality. Caught be­ tween science and art, Schnitzler and Csáth produced provocative texts rather than finished works of art. Csáth was a drug addict whose life ended in suicide. In his stories cruelty is of­ ten combined with deliberate artificiality and a sense of decadence, two character­ istics that are manifest in the works of Hugo von Hofmannsthal, a fully assimi­ lated Jewish poet, playwright, short-story writer, and essayist. His lyric Ballade des äusseren Lebens (The Ballad of Exterior Life, 1896) served as a model for Esti kérdés (Question at Night, 1908) by Mihály Babits. The Hungarian poem can be read as a palinode, a recantation of the earlier work. It is usually assumed that the Hungarian periodical Nyugat (West) expressed by its very name a desire to break loose from Vienna and turn to cultures beyond the German-speaking territory. Budapest certainly made serious attempts to compete with Vienna. In the 1890s the painter József Rippl-Rónai (1861-1924) joined the group called "Les Nabis" in Paris. In the next decade the poet Ady visited the French capital and translated poems by Baudelaire, Verlaine, and Jehan Rictus for his verse collec­ tion Új versek (New Poems, 1906). The Transylvanian-born prose writer Dezső DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL AND CULTURAL SCENE 291 Szabó (1879-1945) published essays on Laforgue, Rimbaud, Verlaine (1911), Corbière, Paul Fort, and Marinetti (1912) in Nyugat, and Babits was an avid reader of the British poets of the late nineteenth century. Still, in his Esti kérdés the parallels with the syntactic structure and existential questioning of Hof- mannsthal's Ballade is clear evidence of the similarities between Austrian and Hungarian poetry. The long essay on Rilke, published in Nyugat in 1909, claim- ing that "today Vienna means more in world lyrics than Paris, London, or Ger- many as a whole" (Kosztolányi 1975, 347), and the same poet's numerous transla- tions of poems from Rilke's Das Stundenbuch (The Book of Hours, 1905), Das Buch der Bilder (The Book of Pictures, 92, 1906), and Neue Gedichte (New Po- ems, 1907) are further proof of the close link between the Austrian and Hungarian poetry of the early twentieth century. Although the word "rilkissimus" was ap- plied to Kosztolányi in a newspaper article by Dezső Szabó in 1920 (Kosztolányi 1977, 640), the indebtedness of Kosztolányi 's cycle of poems A szegény kisgyermek panaszai (The Laments of a Poor Little Child, 1910) to Rilke is far less direct in comparison with Babits's imitation of Hofmannsthal. Kosztolányi's war-time short story Káin (Cain, 1916) is a free and even distorted rewriting of the fifteen-line section of Das Stundenbuch that has the following inscription: "Der blasse Abelknabe spricht" ("The pale Abel speaks"). The poem is a monologue of the dead Abel, whereas the prose narrative is about a Cain who lives in content­ ment after the death of his brother. In his essay Der Dichter und diese Zeit (The Poet and Our Age, 1906) Hof­ mannsthal formulated the thesis that what other generations had believed to be firm was in fact moving, slipping, sliding ("das Gleitende"). In Ein Brief (A Let­ ter, 1902), a fictitious letter written by Lord Chandos in 1603 and addressed to Francis Bacon, he expressed a deep dissatisfaction with language. Later he aban­ doned lyric poetry for prose fiction and drama. Among his highly stylized short stories Der goldene Apfel (The Golden Apple, 1897) and Dämmerung und nächtliches Gewitter (Twilight and Night Storm, 1911-1913) are deliberately un­ finished or open-ended. His early one-act verse play Der Tor und der Tod (The Fool and Death, 1893) relies on the tradition of moralities. Claudio is visited by death, who, playing his violin, brings three visitors from the other world to the hero's study: his mother, his lover, and his friend. This work paved the way for the poet's revival of Everyman. He reworked Thomas Otway's blank-verse tragedy Venice Preserved, or a Plot Discovered (1682) and Calderón's La vida es sueno (1635). His adaptation of the Greek drama Elektra (1904), suggesting that the tragedy happens within the heroine's mind, inspired Richard Strauss to compose his most chromatic opera, produced in 1909. Their collaboration continued with other libretti for the operas Der Rosenkavalier (1911), Ariadne auf Naxos (Ariadne on the Island of Naxos, 1912), Die ägyptische Helene (1928), and Arabella (193). In Der Rosenkavalier he expressed a nostalgia for the period of 292 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK Maria Theresa, whereas in the semiseria Ariadne he relied on the tradition of a play within the play. It is probably no great exaggeration to suggest that Hof- mannsthal's later eclecticism could be linked to his inability to accept the disap- pearance of the Habsburg Monarchy. One could go one step further and argue that the relative failure of Die Frau ohne Schatten (The Woman without a Shadow, 1919), a highly ambitious opera by Strauss, may at least partly be due to the artifi- cial fantasy play based on the longer prose narrative juxtaposing a fairy-tale em- peror and empress with the earthly characters of a dyer and his wife. The setting for Der Tor und der Tod is a villa in the 1820s. Hofmannstal's nos- talgia for the Biedermeier is contemporaneous with the art historian Riegl's reha- bilitation of Biedermeier culture, Klimt's panel Schubert at the Piano (1899) or the music-salon of the Ringstraße Maecenas Nikolaus Dumba, as well as Mahler's evocations of early nineteenth-century music and his numerous settings to music of pieces from the collection Des Knaben Wunderhorn (1805-1808) made by Achim von Arnim and Clemens von Brentano. Auf der Straß stand ein Lindenbaum, da hab' ich zum ersten Mal im Schlaf geruht! (Upon the road there stood a linden tree, there for the first time 1 slept in peace!) These words from the final song of the cycle Lieder eines fahrenden Gesellen (Songs of a Wayfarer, 1884) refer back to the fifth song of Schubert's Winterreise (1827). Rewriting continued to be cultivated by the younger generation, reaffirm- ing the unity of innovation and conservatism characterizing the culture of the Monarchy. Kokoschka's playlet Mörder, Hoffnung der Frauen (Murder, Hope of Women), staged in 1909 and published in the Expressionist periodical Der Sturn (The Storm) in 1910, for instance, is based on Heinrich von Kleist's Penthesilea (1808). 7. In Lieu of a Conclusion The wide range of cultural products, from the annual performances of Jedermann at the Salzburger Festspiele to novels, play, and poems recalling the past, testifies to the significance of the cultural legacy of the Dual Monarchy. In- stead of drawing a conclusion, let it suffice to mention two symptomatic facts. On November 3,1914 a Medical Corps lieutenant of the Austro-Hungarian army died in a hospital in Cracow at the age of twenty-six. Deranged by what he had experi- enced as a dispensing chemist in the battle of Grodek, he had taken an overdose of dmgs. Today this Salzburg-born poet Georg Trakl (1887-1914) is read as one of the greatest lyric poets of the twentieth century. His three hundred poems ap- peared in Ludwig von Ficker's periodical Der Brenner in 1914-1915 and in two DUAL MONARCHY: INTELLECTUAL A N D CULTURAL SCENE 293 collections: Gedichte {Poems, 1913) and Sebastian im Traum {Sebastian in Dream, 1914). In his Expressionist poetry the invisible is made visible, the physi­ cal world is subordinated to the spiritual, the soul is called a stranger on the earth: "Es ist die Seele ein Fremdes auf Erden", as the poem "Frühling der Seele" ("The Spring of the Soul") affirms, and pain is an existential gift of everything that exists - "Der Schmerz ist die Gunst des Wesenhaften alles Wesenden", as his interpreter says (Heidegger, 1985, 60). His language of extreme concentration is as excep­ tional in literature as the texture of Webem's music. The last of Webem's cycle of orchestral songs, Vier Lieder (op. 13, completed after an interruption occasioned by military duties in 1918), and his Sechs Lieder (op. 14, composed between 1917 and 1921) for voice with clarinet, bass clarinet, violin, and cello, are based on po­ ems by Trakl. In 1945 this composer was staying in the small house of his brother-in-law near Salzburg. On September 15 he had supper with his family. Around 9 o'clock he stepped out of the house because he did not want to disturb his grandchild with his smoking. An American soldier shot him. Later at the trial this soldier tried to ar­ gue that he acted in self-defence. His statement was dismissed as untrue. "Do you know what kind of myth that's going to make in a thousand years?" asks a charac­ ter in one of the great American novels of the second half of the twentieth century, and then he gives the following answer: "The young barbarians coming in to mur­ der the Last European, standing at the far end of what'd been going on since Bach" (Pynchon 1975, 440). These two incidents might be regarded as an epilogue to the history of the cul­ ture of the country once known as the Austro-Hungarian Monarchy. References Babits, Mihály (1978) Esszék, tanulmányok. Ed. György Belia. Budapest: Szépirodalmi. Babits, Mihály (2001) Tímár Virgil fia. Ed. Lajos Sipos. Budapest: Magyar Könyvklub. Boulez, Pierre ( 1966) Relevés d'apprenti. 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New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 209-223. 294 MIHÁLY SZEGEDY-MASZÁK Heidegger, Martin ( 1985) Unterwegs zur Sprache. Frankfurt am Main: Vittorio Klostermann. Janik, Allen and Stephen Toulmin (1973) Wittgenstein 's Vienna. New York: Simon and Schuster. Jeszenszky, Géza (1986) Az elvesztett presztízs: Magyarország megítélésének megváltozása Nagy-Britanniában (1894-1918). Budapest: Magvető. Kokoschka, Oscar (1992) Letters 1905-1976. London: Thames and Hudson. Kolakowski, Leszek (1972) Positivist Philosophy from Hume to the Vienna Circle. Translated by Norbert Gutervan and revised by the author. Harmondsworth, Middlesex: Penguin Books. Kolar, Mira (2005) "The Activities of Vice-Roy Pavao Rauch in Croatia". Review of Croatian His­ tory, 1.1: 133-157. Kosztolányi, Dezső (1975) Ércnél maradandóbb. Ed. Pál Réz. Budapest: Szépirodalmi. Kosztolányi, Dezső (1977) Egy égalait. Ed. Pál Réz. Budapest: Szépirodalmi. Kosztolányi Dezső (2002) Nyelv és lélek. Ed. Pál Réz. Budapest: Osiris. 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Budapest: Révai. Musil, Robert (1970) Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften: Roman. Ed. Adolf Frisé. Reinbek bei Ham­ burg: Rowohlt. Neumer, Katalin (2004) "Wittgenstein und die 'Philosophen des Lebens' oder War Wittgenstein ein 'österreichischer' Philosoph? Zu Rodolf Hallers Konzeption einer eigensteidigen Öster­ reichischen Philosophie", in Katalin Neumer (ed.) Traditionen Wittgensteins. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang, 103-132. Popper, Karl (1982) Unended Quest: An intellectual Autobiography. Sixth Impression, with ex­ tended bibliography. Glasgow: Fontana/Collins. Pynchon, Thomas (1975) Gravity's Rainbow. London: Picador. Rilke, Rainer Maria (1997) Die Aufzeichnungen des Malte Laurids Brigge. Ed. Manfred Engel. Stuttgart: Reel am. Romsics, Ignác (2001) A trianoni békeszerződés. Budapest: Osiris. Schoenberg, Arnold (1984) Style and Idea: Selected Writings. Berkeley - Los Angeles: University of California Press. Schorske, Carl E. ( 1980) Fin-de-siècle Vienna: Politics and Culture. 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work_w25mvqwlezcmfcyomcev7f5d2a	----	Edinburgh Research Explorer Apprenticeship in the Renaissance university Citation for published version: Oosterhoff, R 2019, 'Apprenticeship in the Renaissance university: Student authorship and craft knowledge', Science in Context, vol. 32, no. 2, pp. 119-136. https://doi.org/10.1017/S0269889719000140 Digital Object Identifier (DOI): 10.1017/S0269889719000140 Link: Link to publication record in Edinburgh Research Explorer Document Version: Peer reviewed version Published In: Science in Context General rights Copyright for the publications made accessible via the Edinburgh Research Explorer is retained by the author(s) and / or other copyright owners and it is a condition of accessing these publications that users recognise and abide by the legal requirements associated with these rights. Take down policy The University of Edinburgh has made every reasonable effort to ensure that Edinburgh Research Explorer content complies with UK legislation. If you believe that the public display of this file breaches copyright please contact openaccess@ed.ac.uk providing details, and we will remove access to the work immediately and investigate your claim. Download date: 06. Apr. 2021 https://doi.org/10.1017/S0269889719000140 https://doi.org/10.1017/S0269889719000140 https://www.research.ed.ac.uk/portal/en/publications/apprenticeship-in-the-renaissance-university(be720678-8428-40f4-a081-7bb09029d5a5).html 1 Apprenticeship in the Renaissance University: Student Authorship and Craft Knowledge1 Richard J. Oosterhoff, University of Edinburgh, richard.oosterhoff@gmail.com Argument: Students entered Renaissance universities as apprentices in the craft of books. In the decades around 1500, such university training began to involve not only manuscript circulation, but also the production and the use of books in the new medium of print. Through their role in the crafting of books, I show how a circle of students around Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples gained the experience needed to become bookmen. Students took classroom manuscripts and brought them into print—the new print shop offered students a place in which to exchange labour for credibility as joint authors. 1. INTRODUCTION As a learner, the premodern university student shared much with his artisan counterpart. Both youths joined corporations that originated in urban growth from the eleventh century onward, corporations in which “masters” certified and monopolised the flow of products and skills between cities.2 In fact, medieval jurists used the word universitas to name every sort of corporations, including early trade guilds as well the students or masters who comprised the early universities.3 On joining a university or guild, a youth left home and entered a new—largely homosocial—family, in which the master passed on skills and knowledge and also took on moral oversight of the youth in loco parentis, very often housing and feeding his charges. On joining the corporation and attaining status within it, both students and apprentices navigated a documentary culture of certification. A youth might find preliminary training in the craft, whether brickmaking or copying books, enough to secure an opportunity and so leave his training early. Many youths never sought certification (Wallis 2008, Kintzinger 2000, Schwinges 1992). A significant number, however, did. An ambitious youth might pursue his master’s vocation for himself, completing his years of apprenticeship or studies to gain the certification of journeyman or bachelor, and eventually attain the title of master, which in turn allowed him to train others. Such a youth engaged an economy of fees, gifts, ceremonial processions, and feasts designed to structure and regulate the hierarchies of the corporation, hierarchies that proliferated throughout the early modern period. The Enlightenment cameralist Johann Justi highlighted the shared frustrations of 1 Thanks are due to Feike Dietz, Els Stronk, and Sven Dupré for their thoughtful leadership in the workshops and editorial process leading to this special issue, as well as to the participants of those workshops for their fruitful conversation. I am also grateful to the anonymous peer reviewers for their careful reading and several suggestions. The research leading to this paper has received funding from the European Research Council under the European Union’s Seventh Framework Programme (FP7/2007-2013)/ERC grant agreement no 617391. This paper develops arguments opened up in Oosterhoff 2018. 2 Recent bibliography on the emergence of guild regulation and hierarchies is available in Lucassen et al. 2008, Anheim 2013. On the emergence of universities as corporations, see Post 1934, and more generally Ferruolo 1985, Verger 1991; and for mobility of qualifications, see Courtenay 1988. 3 Michaud-Quantin 1970, cit. Verger 1991, 37. 2 premodern guild and university: “Mastership too often comes from connections, and is given on the basis of ‘sumptuous masterpieces, never useful for normal life, and not at all given in view of diligence and true talent’” (von Justi 1755, quoted by Clark 2006, 12). The analogy of guild and university went even deeper. The material and conceptual realities of university life were often framed as the tools and products of craft or ars, a terminology that early modern universities inherited from their medieval forebears. The world was a giant workshop, suggested the medieval master Gerhoch of Reicherberg, and William of Conches added that “all work is the work of the creator, the work of nature, or of man-the-artisan imitating nature” (cit. Le Goff 1993, 57). Developing this account of mankind as irreducibly artisans, Hugh of St Victor emphasised that the artes are not sciences but techniques, since that is “called art which takes shape in some material medium and is brought out in it through manipulation of that material, as is the case in architecture”; Hugh therefore became the first to cast the mechanical arts as companions of the liberal arts (Hugh of St. Victor 1961, 62).4 Mary Carruthers has shown how deeply craft metaphors of habit and gesture permeated medieval understanding of intellectual work (Carruthers 1998). Jacques Le Goff and William Clark have suggested that premodern academic authority was vested in material objects and processes of making: books were not simply abstract vectors of ideas, but explicitly described as the tools and the products of intellectual commerce (Le Goff 1993; Clark 2006). Early modern university students and masters, I will show below, explicitly adapted such Victorine categories to explain their own intellectual work. Participation in book culture—whether production or use—has often justified the distinction of elites from the rest in the imaginations of social and cultural historians. Over the last thirty years, that distinction has worn thin. In the history of science and technology figures such as Robert Boyle turn out to have relied on entire households of “invisible technicians” who contributed both labour and knowledge to his science (Shapin 1989). We have learned from Carolyn Merchant’s insight that women and artisans contributed meaningfully to the new knowledge economy of the seventeenth century. 5 Recently book historians have taken the problem on more directly, focusing on the practices of collaborative authorship. Even the best-selling author of early modern Europe, Desiderius Erasmus himself, depended on a community to produce physical objects that could project his persona. 6 This case holds more generally. The often hidden collectors, collators, ammanuenses and other assistants played a more creative role in early modern authorship than we used to think (Grafton 2011, Blair 2017a). Grand personalities such as Erasmus and the quixotic encyclopedias of Conrad Gesner turn out not to be the artworks of singular geniuses, but rather the ingenious artefacts of entire communities. Even the apparently standardised and replicable knowledge that Elizabeth Eisenstein saw in printed books, 4 In this account, Hugh drew on Chalcidius’ commentary on the Timaeus, where God is artificer (e.g. Hugh of St. Victor 1961, 55). On Hugh’s place in various categorizations of the arts, see Whitney 1990, 82-99. 5 The literature is now vast (e.g. Leong and Rankin 2011, Dupré 2014) but early examples are Merchant 1980, Smith 2000. 6 See the marvelous study of Vanautgaerden 2012. Erasmus’ tense relationships with his printers have long been known: Allen 1913. Vanautgaerden, however, confirms that Erasmus adopted an authorial personality that both invoked and effaced his many amanuenses, correctors, and printers: see also Jardine 1993, 99–121. 3 was in fact a socially produced object, requiring continual negotiation to be experienced as standardized, as we learned from Roger Chartier and Adrian Johns (Eisenstein 1979, Chartier 1994; Johns 1998). Context makes science, and it takes a community to make a book. Through the case examined here, my goal is to extend this logic from the exceptions—Boyle, Erasmus, and so on—to the standard structure of school learning in the earliest period of print. In the scholarship of the previous paragraph, mainstream compendia still take second place to exceptional works of science, literature, and art.7 While we may find that identifying a textbook is harder than it seems (as Grafton 2008 points out, what is not a textbook?) it is nevertheless clear that, if we care about the social history of knowledge, we should attend more to textbooks, the objects that mapped the cultural assumptions and cognitive practices of the period.8 Furthermore, by considering these texts materially—as objects produced within a particular community and place—similarities emerge between university and workshop. Against the historiographic tendency to seal off “high” from “low” culture, I will focus on what they shared, arguing that artisans and scholars shared a basic educational cycle orientated around the crafting of objects. The case that I present here comprises a group of men often identified with the early French Renaissance. Rather than viewing them as humanists, a historiographically fraught term associated with abstract ideals, I first present their careers as bookmen, involved in the production and use of particular objects. Then I examine two moments of student engagement in book production, one in manuscript circulation within the classroom and another in the print shop. In a final section, I suggest that these craft practices could be dignified as knowledgeable within the orthodox frame of university thought. 2. APPRENTICE BOOKMEN From the perspective of the material book, Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples (c. 1450-1536) became influential not by publishing deluxe objects of erudition like his admired friends Ficino, Barbaro or Poliziano, but by producing short handbooks to the university arts.9 After retiring from university teaching in 1508, he became known for innovative editions of and commentaries on Church Fathers and the Bible. But first, during his tenure as a regent master in Paris, Lefèvre expended his energies on producing a wide range of accessible introductions to university arts, from logic and mathematics to natural philosophy and moral philosophy (Trithemius 1512, 215v– 216v). As I shall argue below, these books also bear the thumbprints of a close circle 7 The chief exception is commonplace books, which have been deeply mined for the textual and cognitive practices of commonplacing, as school boys were taught to read with pen in hand, acquiring habits that allowed them to respond to the new abundance of particulars offered by print and the new world, in turn forming expansive new efforts to collect, order, and archive those particulars. E.g. Moss 1996; Blair 1997; Krämer 2014; Yeo 2014. 8 Historians of science have made this argument for the nineteenth and twentieth centuries: Warwick 2003; Vicedo 2012; Shapiro 2013. 9 The central scholarship on Lefèvre and his community includes Renaudet 1916; Rice 1972 (hereafter PE); Bedouelle 1976; Hughes 1984. Of these, Rice remains especially useful because of its heavily annotated editions and comprehensive bibliography. 4 of students. In fact, Lefèvre regularly thanked students for their role in bringing his works into print. A long list may be supplied of the students who corrected Lefèvre’s publications—even more, presumably, contributed without acknowledgment. 10 He also attributed the genres that made him famous to his students’ ideas. When his patron Germain de Ganay asked why he wrote dialogues, Lefèvre cited his ammanuensis: Accept this reason. The honorable youth Guillaume Gontier, who helped me in many ways when he accompanied me to the Italian shores [in 1492], easily led me to do this. “If you do this,” he said, “you will advise students on how they should ask questions, and how to answer them; thus at once you can usefully assist both student and teacher.” He also advised me to prepare readers with an Introduction at the beginning, by which the artfully arranged matter might be committed to memory... (Lefèvre 1493, sig. b1v [PE, 22]). Lefèvre’s response to Germain subtly locates the very origins of textual dialogue in his conversations with a student. It was a topos, but not an empty topos. Between 1490 and 1508, Lefèvre lived and worked with his students at the Collège du Cardinal Lemoine in Paris, a mere ten minutes by foot from the print shops of rue St. Jacques. There he collaborated with students and printers to produce new textbooks for the whole cycle of the arts course. In this collaboration, many of these students became colleagues, notably the theologian Josse Clichtove. Many students, such as the Amerbach brothers and Beatus Rhenanus, became professional bookmen—writers, printers, correctors—after they first apprenticed in Lefèvre’s classroom, as even a brief survey will show. In the still-new print shop, such bookmen brought together the practices of university men and artisans.11 The university printers in this circle were not merely “sworn booksellers” (libraires jurés) as in times past, but were often themselves MAs: the illustrious print dynasty of Henri Estienne was founded by a university man, Johann Higman 12 ; Jodocus Badius (White 2013); Johannes Amerbach (Halporn 2000); and later inheritors of the Estienne press, Simon de Colines, and Robert and Charles Estienne (Armstrong 1954, Schreiber 1982). As in the Aldine workshop of Venice, in Paris the master bookman oversaw both intellectual and financial sides of the business. In one colophon, Wolfgang Higman recorded himself as both the “ingenious printer” and a canny planner: “Printed at Paris … by the ingenious printer Wolfgang Hopyl. This thought is always firmly in his mind: great deeds are done not by strength or speed or physical agility, but by planning, judgment, and authority.”13 10 Besides those listed in this article, these students included: Wolfgang Pratensis; Petrus Porta Monsterolensis (PE, 137); François Vatable (PE, 249-250); Michael Pontanus (PE, 381-82); Jean Solidus de Cracovie (accompanied Lefèvre in 1500, copied a Vulgate ed. of Job, see Renaudet, p. 506); Jean Multuallis de Tournay, Michel Pontanus Sameracensis, Louis Fidelis (all involved in some way with the 1514 Cusani Opera); Jean Pelletier. In this vein, Rice calls the famous printer Robert Estienne Lefèvre’s “last and most brilliant disciple” (PE, 494). 11 The overlap between learned and artisanal worlds in the print shop has become a commonplace since Eisenstein 1979, chap. 6. This point has been made by others, e.g. Davis 1966 and 1982. 12 Higman was received as a bachelor into the University of Paris in 1478, reports Veyrin-Forrer 1995, 97. See also Renouard 1965, 204-205. 13 Lefèvre 1495, colophon. “¶ Impressum Parisij in pago diui Jacobi ad insigne sancti Georgij Anno Christi siderum conditoris 1494 duodecima februarij [i.e. 1495] Per 5 Through an oblique use of Cicero, who opposed youthful agility to measured maturity, the aging printer claimed intellectual engagement with the project as well as practical oversight. Many students moved between college and print shop, studying with Lefèvre and working alongside Hopyl, Estienne, and Badius, and we should not assume all of them pursued the same career. 14 A surprising number in this circle, however, eventually took the role of master bookman for themselves. These students offer a particularly significant case because they belong to the first generation of students who could approach the entirety of the arts course through printed textbooks. Active in the decades on either side of 1500, these apprentice bookmen offer a case of authorship at the transition from manuscript to print, a period when the material and social organization of print publication were still in flux. During these decades, key elements of mise-en-page were not yet fixed: such as the title page, page numbers, paragraph divisions, punctuation, frontispieces, indices (e.g. Smith 2000, Janssen 2005). Moreover, as the next sections will show, the social organization of print production was similarly fluid. In the next paragraphs, a prosopographical sampling of this circle during this formative period will show the significance of their Paris apprenticeships for their careers as bookmen. The Flemish theologian Josse Clichtove (1472-1543) was Lefèvre’s closest collaborator from the late 1480s to around 1521, when they broke over Lefèvre’s reform of preaching at Meaux (Bietenholz 1985, 1:317-220; PE passim; Massaut 1968; Farge 1980, 88-104). Clichtove’s published work grew out of Lefèvre’s enterprise, largely in the printing houses of Henri Estienne and then Jodocus Badius. After he gained his MA with Lefèvre at the Collège du Boncourt (c. 1490; Farge 2006, no. 155a), Clichtove took up studies in the theological faculty. Throughout the 1490s, however, he continued to teach the arts course at Lemoine and to edit Lefèvre’s works. The extent of their collaboration is hard to overstate: he left his fingerprints on most of Lefèvre’s early printed works, beginning with a poem in Lefèvre’s first printed work. Most of Lefèvre’s famed paraphrases and commentaries on natural philosophy, moral philosophy, and mathematics circulated in editions that included Clichtove’s commentaries. Even after receiving a doctorate in 1506, Clichtove produced editions of medieval theologians and Church fathers in collaboration with Lefèvre—he also defended his old teacher in short polemical works against Erasmus as well as against other factions in the theological faculty of Paris. Clichtove first apprenticed in Lefèvre’s shop, so to speak, and then became its foreman before he stepped out as an independent author. The Netherlandish humanist and schoolmaster Johannes Caesarius (c. 1468- 1550) similarly began his career in Lefèvre’s classroom (Bietenholz 1985, 1: 238-9; PE 104-105; Allen 1906-, 2:172). He first studied in Cologne, but quickly switched to Paris, where he gained the MA in 1498. He returned to Deventer, where he taught at a grammar school beginning an illustrious career as a teacher, humanist, and eventually even a physician—his students included notables such as Heinrich Glarean, Agrippa ingeniosum impressorem Wolfgangum hopyl. Cui hec sententia semper firma mente sedet: Non viribus aut velocitatibus aut celeritate corporum res magne geruntur: sed Consilio, Sententia, et Auctoritate ¶ Recognitoribus diligentissimis: Luca Uualtero Conitiensi, Guillermo Gonterio, Johanne Griettano, et Petro Grisele: Matheseos amatoribus.” The contrast of youthful “speed and agility” to the aged wisdom comes from Cicero, De senectute, 17 (hat tip to Anthony Ossa-Richardson). 14 Medieval student experience was hardly monolithic; see Schwinges 1992. 6 of Nettesheim, and Heinrich Bullinger. But his teaching always included publishing as well, and he is best known for his editions of Greek grammar and other works of classical scholarship. This pattern, however, began immediately after leaving Paris with the MA, when he worked a corrector at the press of Richardus Pafraet, who was just beginning to enter the market of school handbooks. Caesarius put his Parisian expertise to work in editions of Lefèvre’s introduction to moral philosophy, Clichtove’s brief handbook on logic, and a collection of mathematical works by Lefèvre, Clichtove, and Charles de Bovelles (Lefèvre 1502, Clichtove 1504, Lefèvre et al. 1507). The same pattern of apprenticeship can be discerned in the career of Hieronymus Gebwiler (c. 1473-1545) (Bietenholz 1985, 2:81-82; PE 243-244; Adam 1967, 18-21). He first studied in Basel with the humanist Sebastian Brant, but then went to Paris to study with Lefèvre, graduating MA in 1495. His chief role was as a teacher in the famous grammar school at Schlettstadt, and then in Strassburg, where he encouraged the best of his students to study with his old master in Paris. We have no evidence that Gebwiler served as a corrector in Paris; his own studies concluded while Lefèvre’s circle was still learning what print could do. Yet like Caesarius and others, he combined his teaching with work in the press. Gebwiler saw his old colleagues’ and teachers’ books through print shops in Strassburg, inter alia publishing versions of Lefèvre’s introductions to logic, natural philosophy, and moral philosophy, sometimes including snippets of Clichtove’s commentary as well as his own—through the presses, he adapted the Fabrist university program to a grammar school context (Lefèvre 1511, Lefèvre 1514, Lefèvre 1516). The school at Sélestat, with Cardinal Lemoine in Paris, became the seedbed for a generation of Alsatian humanists, including the two older sons of the preeminent Basel printer Johann Amerbach: Bruno (1484-1519) and Basil (1488-1535) (Bietenholz 1985, see Halporn 2000). The two youths arrived in Paris together shortly after 1500, and together graduated with the MA in April 1506. Their father had studied with the Paris theologian Johann Heynlin von Stein in the 1470s, and initially wished his sons to take the same path through the Scotist schools; instead, they remained at the Collège de Sainte Barbe while taking some lectures at the Collège du Cardinal Lemoine, attracted by Lefèvre’s teaching. As it had for their father, the MA degree gave them the foundation for a career in publishing books. Bruno, an outgoing personality, joined his father’s printing shop as a key figure in the great enterprise of editing the works of Jerome, a work the junior partner Johann Froben continued after the senior Amerbach died in 1513. Meanwhile, Basil took a legal degree at Freiburg, but sickness prevented him from practice as a lawyer, and he also found his chief occupation as a corrector in Froben’s workshop. This was the the group Erasmus found so congenial when he arrived in August 1514; skilled as expert correctors in both Latin and Greek, they could serve his books to best advantage (Allen 1906-, 3:96-97). Preeminent among these correctors was Beatus Rhenanus (1485-1538), who studied under Gebwiler at Sélestat before he took the BA and MA at the Collège du Cardinal Lemoine in Paris between 1503 and 1507 (bibliography in Hirstein 2013). While studying with Lefèvre in Paris, Beatus helped publish several of Lefèvre’s works, including an edition of Ramon Lull’s Contemplations, a reframing of the political works of Aristotle and Plato, another on Lefèvre’s introduction to the Nicomachean Ethics with Clichtove’s extensive notes, and an edition of patristic works (Lull 1505, Lefèvre 1506). This experience earned Beatus a firm foothold in the growing business of humanist print. In 1508, after returning to Alsace, Beatus 7 joined the new printing house of a fellow graduate of the Sélestat school, Matthias Schürer (on whom see Bietenholz 1985, 233, and Vanautgaerden 2012). After 1514, when Erasmus came to the region first attracted by Schürer and then by Froben, Beatus proved one of Erasmus’ most trusted correctors and collaborators, as well as a careful editor of ancient and patristic texts in his own right. It was to Beatus that Erasmus entrusted the task of gathering his opera omnia after his death in 1536. For my purposes, it is significant that Beatus built his reputation on skills he first exercised in Paris, excising solecisms, comparing newly printed sheets to their manuscript exemplars, and carefully framing new books within appropriate headers, letters, and verses. It was these skills in transforming copy into printed books that made these students bookmen—and indeed, as I shall argue, made them authors. [INSERT FIGURE AROUND HERE] Figure 1. Lefèvre and Clichtove 1507, title page and first page. As was often the case in a decade when title page conventions were not yet set, the author’s name appears on neither the title page nor the dedicatory epistle to this short, “artful” introduction to Aristotle’s Nicomachean Ethics. Instead of Lefèvre’s name, we find only the names of the student corrector Beatus Rhenanus and the commentator Clichtove, prominently advertised in large letters. Bayerische StaatsBibliothek, shelfmark 1422301 / 2 A.gr.b. 371 (urn:nbn:de:bvb:12-bsb10139325-4), NoC-CC. 3. PUBLICATION MOMENT 1. MANUSCRIPT CIRCULATION IN THE COLLEGE The student notes of Beatus Rhenanus offer a rare glimpse into this moment of transition between manuscript and print. While he was in Paris, Beatus’ teachers finished printing new textbooks for the whole cursus artium at the University of Paris—this was the first concentrated programme to renovate the cursus in print, and Beatus belonged to the first generation of students that could, in principle, spend their entire university career studying only the printed textbooks of their masters. His extant library shows that he intensively studied these printed text books; they are crammed with detailed notes, many evidently taken in class (Oosterhoff 2015, 8-11). But his notes also reveal hints of the origins of these printed books in a primary circulation of manuscripts. Such printed textbooks grew out this first manuscript context of collaborative learning. One of his notebooks is especially revealing. At first glance it appears simply to be a series of class notes. The first sections are a series of collectanea on works of logic and natural philosophy. One titled In Librum Introductorium naturalis philosophiae Aristotelis collecta appears to be complete, concluding with the following excipit: This Introduction to Aristotelian Physics was read at Cardinal Lemoine in Paris, and set down in letters by me, Beatus Rhenanus. [BHS MS 58, 163v. “Parrhisijs In cardinali Monacho: Hoc In Physicen Aristotelicam : Introductio Lecta enim et A me “literis mandata” Beato Rhinat<wer>.”] Clearly these texts represent lectures or “readings” (lectio) in the college, in some format. Since not all are finished, and there are generous sections of blank pages, these texts seem to be rough copy, perhaps written as the lecturer spoke. But two other texts in the notebook are not so clearly related to lectures. One is a series of theses that Emmanuel Faye has identified as belonging to Charles de Bovelles, introduced with some quotations from Nicholas of Cusa, which sets out a series of statements on the metaphysical place of man in the universe (Beatus, BHS MS 58, 195r-206r. This work is edited by Faye 1998). It concludes with the simple 8 colophon Finis Parrhisijs . Anno . :1:5:0:4: . Cardi[nali]: Mo[nacho]: (Finished in Paris, in the year 1504, at Cardinal Lemoine). Since it is complete, copied in a fair hand, and there is no reference to a classroom context, very likely this text was circulated in the college. Additional support for this possibility comes from independent short works that Bovelles published around the same time, which similarly consist of evocative theses without further elaboration (Bovelles 1500, Bovelles 1501). Such lists of theses could therefore be a publishable genre in their own right. The circulation of manuscript tracts within the confines of the college becomes even more likely with the next treatise in Beatus’ notebook. This one is titled Iacobi fabri Stapulensis In Libros De Anima, analogiarum Compendium, and concludes unambiguously with the Greek telos, and Finis ANALOGIARUM (Rhenanus BHS MS 58, 206v). Here we have a series of reflections on physical analogies for mental or metaphysical operations—a popular theme in Lefèvre’s circle. 15 Not only is the brief work complete, but it is copied in a fair hand. In particular, one tell-tale sign convinces me that the work was in fact copied from another manuscript: the work includes signature markings. Since these markings do not match the notebook’s signatures, they must come from another exemplar that Beatus copied. These manuscript treatises, copied into the back of a student’s notebook, can be understood within the late medieval framework of coterie publication as Daniel Hobbins has elucidated for the decades just before print, around 1400. Hobbins defines manuscript publication as typically happening in two moments. In the first, an author shares the work in a limited number of copies within an intimate circle of readers. Then, in a second moment of publication, that circle of readers may, with or without the author’s encouragement, copy and circulate the work more broadly. In a manuscript culture, both of those moments should be seen as “publication”, though it is the second which explains the broad dispersion of works like Gerson’s tracts or Thomas a Kempis’ Imitatio Christi (Hobbins 2009). These two moments of publication help us consider why in Lefèvre’s circle certain works circulated in manuscript, and why others were printed. Those works clearly limited to manuscript publication were especially elite and esoteric in nature. We know that early patrons of the circle, the brothers Germain and Jean from the wealthy and powerful officer family Ganay, received deluxe manuscript copies of certain “books of many Platonists” from Ficino, who also dedicated his translation of Athenagoras’ De resurrectione to Germain in manuscript copy in 1495.16 Lefèvre’s own dedications follow the same pattern. Ficino’s prisca theologia, perhaps with Germain’s encouragement, was the starting point for Lefèvre’s treatise De magia naturali, which Jean-Marc Mandosio has shown was never intended to be published.17 15 Take, for example, the many visual and physical analogies in Bovelles’ De sensu, analysed by Klinger-Dollé 2016. 16 Ficino also seemed to think that Germain had manuscript copies of Plotinus. Cit. Victor 1978, 50. Ficino’s student Francesco da Diacetto dedicated at least two special manuscript defenses of Plato to Germain, described in Kristeller 1956, 1: 314, 316. Germain had the book printed in Paris in 1498, two years after Ficino’s death; see Kristeller 1956, 51-54, 126, 127. 17 Mandosio 2013 puts to rest the assumption, traceable back to Renaudet, that this manuscript never made publication because of Lefèvre’s fear of the theology faculty 9 The text exists in four manuscripts, but only one has all six books; the others have only the first four books. Mandosio points out that the first four books are those that are written as a dialogue between Lefèvre, in the role of sage, and his companion Germain de Ganay himself as student. The last two books in the Olomouc copy are written not as dialogue, but as a treatise; they were added, Mandosio suggests, to a text that had been published as a dialogue in manuscript in the early 1490s, perhaps at the request of Germain himself. The esoteric themes of secrets of nature, Cabbala, alchemy, and magia Pythagorica go a long way towards explaining why this text was not meant for print; recent scholarship has shown that manuscript was a main mode of diffusing sensitive or dangerous texts, such as those of magic (Barbierato 2011). Clearly this was not an introductory text; the manuscript reflected Germain’s place within a close circle of cognoscenti. Even natural magic was too dangerous to set before students in textbooks. Nevertheless, some of the university books Lefèvre first published in manuscript are consciously aimed at related esoteric subjects, and their introductions flatter patrons with the sense of inclusion within circles of high-minded friendship. Lefèvre’s first mathematical work, after George of Trebizond convinced him to recover the discipline for the glory of Paris, was an edition of Jordanus de Nemore’s Elements of Arithmetic. Though first printed in 1496, the book must have been published in manuscript before 1494, because early that year Lefèvre dedicated his dialogues on Aristotle’s Metaphysics to Germain de Ganay, and mentioned that he had already dedicated his edition of the Arithmetic to Jean de Ganay. Mathematics was especially important for Jean as a kind of “mirror and rule of justice,” because he was an important lawyer in the Paris parlement (PE, ep. 6, 21). For Germain, a bishop called to priestly service, Lefèvre offered metaphysics, the study of eternal truths, “which the Platonists call ideas,” first studied as mysteries by the Egyptian priests and Chaldean magi. Neither of these treatises were basic school texts; they were advanced topics. The role of manuscript publication was to foster what Brian Richardson calls “a sense of close communication and solidarity among those with similar tastes and interests” (Richardson 2009, 1-2). Manuscript publication suited the esoteric interests that might lure elite patrons. But Lefèvre’s more mundane school introductions also fit this model of coterie manuscript publication, at least initially. His earliest known text was not published until at least four years after being written; the Introduction to Metaphysics, which was printed with four additional dialogues in 1494, was first written in 1490, two years before Lefèvre’s first printed publication Paraphrases on the Whole of Natural Philosophy, and one year before he traveled to Italy. 18 Another allusive example is Lefèvre’s brief 56 octavo pages of Logical Introductions (1496).19 The title page reveals that these were “diligently gathered together by Josse Clichtove.” The implication is that the work—like the tracts by Bovelles and Lefèvre in Beatus after they prosecuted the royal astrologer Simon de Phares in 1495. Cf. the first chapter of Boudet 1997. 18 This information is added to the 1515 edition of these introductions, published with Bruni’s translation. PE, 354, 358. 19 Lefèvre 1496a. See PE, ep. 13, 39. “Satis enim est ea vel in transcursu (velut qui exploratores hostile agmen transcurrunt) attigisse.” While 56 pages in octavo may not seem so short, these small pages surveyed material that a competing textbook covered in 338 pages in folio: cf. Bricot et al. 1495. 10 Rhenanus’ notebook—had already been available, likely circulated in manuscript among close students like Clichtove. Here the function of manuscript is still to reinforce intimacy, but not through advanced, difficult, or dangerous intellectual topics. Precisely the opposite. Evidently, such handbooks gathered manuscript notes that had functioned as glorified crib sheets. They displayed modes of debate and offered mnemonics and diagrams for easy recall, with short potted arguments to prepare swiftly for debate. Within the intimacy of the college community, therefore, manuscript coterie publication not only protected esoteric subjects, but was the way students shared the helps and crutches of ordinary classroom learning. The distinctive Fabrist introductions seem to have originated in student practices of circulating manuscript tips for managing the curriculum—doubtless a kind of collaborative learning that had long served university students, even though evidence is rarely available to historians. Such manuscript circulation was the first source of this circle’s distinctive, collaborative approach to the arts course. After this first stage of manuscript circulation, print also offered a powerful second moment of publication, when the circle of intimates replicated the work for a broader audience. Not only did Clichtove gather the material for the Logical Introductions, but in fact Lefèvre’s students Guillaume Gontier and David Laux did all the editorial work, as a postscript to the first edition indicates. If Lefèvre initially hesitated to publish in print, his students were more enthusiastic about what print could do. It was their industry that made these introductions public. 4. PUBLICATION MOMENT 2. STUDENTS IN THE PRINT SHOP Apprenticeship offers a useful model for understanding the role of students in this second moment of wider publication. University students, as in artisanal guilds, produced new physical objects: books. From the thirteenth century at least, students complained when masters lectured too quickly to let them copy texts verbatim, producing their own copy of the text or commentary in question.20 In the reading halls, some students copied books, often for extra money, working within the pecia system. This was the hub of university book production: libraires dealt in old and new books, paper and ink, and would rent out pecia (sections of manuscripts that had been corrected and certified) to students and professional scribes.21 When books began to be printed, student participation in book production began to change. In particular, there was a new division of labor. In the line of production, the newcomers were pressmen, manual workmen who sweated over the presses.22 To set type, print shops also needed compositors who were at least somewhat learned, as well as learned clerics to correct the proofs as they came off the press. 20 That this was normal for the later middle ages has been challenged by Saenger 1999, 120–148. It is possible that student requests for teachers to speak at a copyable speed rose during the Renaissance: Blair 2008; Waquet 2003. See also the taxonomy of university practices given by Weijers and Holtz 1997. 21 For the structural description of this system, see Destrez 1935, Rouse and Rouse 1988. 22 The physical labor of a handpress is prodigious, even for later, more efficient presses. Various new crafts were associated with print, such as punch-cutting, type- founding, press-building (Renouard 1901). 11 In guilds and other artisan corporations, apprentices were not necessarily the lowest status figures in a workshop. Such youths were usually entrusted to the master’s care by a parent, under a contract that required that they receive training in the entirety of the craft. Unlike day labourers and domestic help, apprentices had rights not to be deployed only in menial tasks unrelated to the profession. Apprentices therefore expected to work in some relation with the master, on works to which the master would put his name. At least in principle, apprentices were marked out for advancement (E.g. Epstein 1998; De Munck 2007; and Patrick Wallis in this volume on the expectation of advancement). Likewise, the apprenticeship model reveals some students in a middle stratum within the print shop. Early print shops were often populated with university graduates and students, and it is not surprising that Lefèvre’s first printers, Wolfgang Hopyl and Johann Higman, were university men, Higman himself having received the bachelor degree in 1478 (Claudin 1900, 1:350). Such early printers frequently found their correctors in universities, often among senior students. The heavy labor of pressmen required more dexterity than literacy, and even compositors did not always read with ease. But to check the proofs, to ensure that they reflected the author in the best possible light, to guarantee every letter was in its place, every solecism safely eluded, to compile swelling indices, and to compose the prefaces and printer advertisements—these tasks required strong Latin, a keen eye, and a thick skin to withstand competing pressure from authors and printers (Grafton 2011, 6–32, and passim). In the hierarchy of book making, correctors belonged to the world of work, namely the print shop; Grafton has shown that although they were often as erudite as their authors, they were more often ignored if not unjustly blamed for errors (cf. Richardson 1994). Correctors of Lefèvre’s works often worked directly alongside the pressmen, recognitores in officina (Tyler 1952, 23). It would not have been unusual for a corrector to be responsible for the detailed table indexing Lefèvre’s commentary in his Text on the Sphere.23 As one of Lefèvre’s closest collaborators, Josse Clichtove’s hand is very often indistinguishable from Lefèvre’s.24 Clichtove corrected Lefèvre’ first printed book in 1492, and even added some of his own verses, becoming author as much as editor. In these verses (which disappeared in later editions) Clichtove praised the printer Higman, enjoining the reader to thank this German printer, who took up the job at his own expense. He added that he himself had, as well as he could, corrected any errors that had been left “in lead”—that is, the mistakes of compositors—together with a certain “faithful Bohemus.”25 It seems quite likely that Clichtove’s helper was one Stephanus Martini de Tyn (Bohuslas Tinnensis), from Prague, who was then a student in the medical faculty (Massaut 1968, 1:186n46; cf. PE 15). Not long after this, the Frisian humanist Viglius Zuichemus noted in the illustrious shop of Froben in 1534 that a corrector might work with a reader (Gerritsen 1991). Stephanus might have read the manuscript exemplar aloud, while Clichtove collated it with the proof. In any 23 This and the next three paragraphs compress an argument from Oosterhoff 2018, 92-94. 24 It must be said, however, that Lefèvre attempted a much more eloquent Latin; Clichtove’s is often more perspicacious if less inspiring. 25 Lefèvre 1492, below colophon: “Debetis grates Alemano et adusque Johanni | Higman, qui proprii sumptibus egit opus. | Mendam corripui fido comitante Bohemio | (Ut potui) in plumbo si qua relicta fuit.” 12 case, Lefèvre benefited from the attention of experienced students and fellow academics in preparing his long, folio volume for publication, and his readers knew it. Indeed, Lefèvre’s introductions to university disciplines were printed with the help of a number of his students, and some followed Clichtove’s example in advertising their involvement. Gontier, already mentioned as Lefèvre’s amanuensis during his travels to Italy, corrected Lefèvre’s popular Moral Art (1497), and had his name put on the titlepage. Lefèvre’s mathematical books seem to have drawn the widest involvement of students. The Text on the Sphere (1495) colophon includes no fewer than four “recognitores diligentissimi” and “matheseos amatori”: Lucca Walter, Jean Grietan, Pierre Griselle, and Lefèvre’s amanuensis Guillaume Gontier. The number of correctors makes it likely that they made a gift of their time—more likely than Higman paying four correctors.26 Four correctors may have been needed to deal with the large number of diagrams, charts and numbers in the book, always in need of yet one more recalculation or comparison with the original. In his prefatory letter, Lefèvre cited “my domestic, Jean Grietan” as a skilled abacist, describing his learning in the variety of mathematical disciplines and saying that he had been a great help in writing the book (Lefèvre 1495, a1v: Affuit levamini domesticus noster Ioannes Griettanus, abaci numerandique peritiae et reliquae matheseos non inscite studiosus; scripsit opus et quasi fesso umerum subiectit Atlanti). The word “domestic” here suggests that Grietan earned his bursary at the Collège du Cardinal Lemoine through household labour, a common arrangement in the Parisian colleges. But instead of carrying water and wood, young Jean was put to work as a computer, no doubt helping to produce the numerous tables of longitudes and latitudes, as well as ascensions of the zodiac that illustrated Lefèvre’s commentary. Another colleague at the college, David Laux, apparently also bore the weight of the larger and much more difficult Elements of Arithmetic, in 1496, “the year of the Lord, who formed all things in number and harmony.” The colophon emphasized that the printers Johann Higman and Wolfgang Hopyl had published the lavishly illustrated work “at their own heavy labor and expense,” sweating for the sake of Parisian students—adding, not quite as an afterthought, that that they had been helped by “David Laux, the Briton from Edinburgh, who diligently corrected the whole thing from the exemplar” (Lefèvre 1496b, colophon: Et idem quoque | facit David Lauxius Brytannus Edinburgensis: Ubique ex archetypo diligens operis recognitor). Given this rhetoric and the financial risk associated with such a labor-intensive, expensively illustrated text, it does seem likely that the colophon was written by the printers themselves, and that the book was indeed a labor of love, or at least economic nerve. (Perhaps they even paid Laux.) Indeed, the omnipresent labour of students in these books presents another analogy with apprenticeship, in which training is exchanged for labour. Fabrist textbooks were among the most frequently reprinted works of Henri Estienne’s press: in Estienne’s first decade on his own, from 1502 to 1511, twenty-one out of thirty- eight books he published were Fabrist textbooks—and the remainder was mostly works of theology or philosophy edited by Lefèvre and his students (Renouard 1843, 1-10). I know of no account books that would give a closer picture; but since by far most of Estienne’s output was Fabrist works, it seems likely Estienne’s profits, or at 26 Higman may have been low on funds in 1495, when perhaps coincidentally, Higman lent a property deed to the Hôtel-Dieu of Paris as surety for a large loan, which was not recovered from his widow until 1508. Renouard 1901, 88; van Moé 1935. 13 least the economic survival of his print shop, depended on the labour of these students.27 Yet there is no evidence of Estienne paying Lefèvre or these students for their work. So far I have chiefly highlighted the experience that students gained in return for their extensive labour. Lacking other evidence, it seems unlikely that the leading students chose to work in print shops in exchange for fee exemptions; the Amerbach boys, for example, complain much about fees, but never mention repayment of this kind. Instead, besides experience, students earned cultural credit for their labour. Learned dedications, letters of flowery praise between friends, lavish prefatory poems, elegant colophons—such paratexts were the currency of the Republic of Letters (Haugen 2007). As we have seen, the students who printed Lefèvre’s were handsomely rewarded in this economy. The ultimate payment, it would seem, was the chance to enter the domain of authorship. Through the names in these paratexts, we trace the first steps of students towards becoming authors. Lefèvre might have singled out his friend Étienne for thanks in his first publication, the Paraphrases on the Whole of Natural Philosophy of 1492, but he gave Clichtove a greater opportunity: the short poem thanking Higman and Stephanus was Clichtove’s first appearance in print. But paratext could itself become a key part of the text. In 1502, Clichtove supplied the Paraphrases with a commentary that frequently was longer than Lefèvre’s own paraphrase. In the following four decades, it was this version of Lefèvre’s paraphrases that was most frequently reprinted. 28 Clichtove also piggybacked on Lefèvre’s authorial gravity in 1517, when he took the few pages of Lefèvre’s Astronomicon and augmented it with over a hundred pages of dense commentary. Similarly, Charles de Bovelles’ first active role in print was not his Introduction to the Philosophy of Opposites (1501), but from the year before. In 1500 Lefèvre invited him to edit a short Astronomical Ring, a description of a miniature astrolabe that he had found in Rome. Apprenticeship as a corrector could lead to authorship. 5. CRAFT AND BOOKS The products of this circle were books, and books principally aimed at knowledge of the university arts course: logic, mathematics, natural philosophy, and ethics. Yet the language of craft permeated the enterprise. Lefèvre’s own name—fevre in old French, latinized as faber, means workman or maker 29 —probably came from his Picard family, but his friends played on its craft meanings for scholarship. He was a master in the craft of forming student souls, “like another craftsman Daedalus having artfully fashioned a chariot.” 30 Such metaphors recall the pioneering work of Mary Carruthers, already mentioned, who showed how medieval accounts of monastic thought were framed by analogy with craft (Carruthers 1998). Even after the period Carruthers addresses, the university built its whole edifice of knowledge on the 27 The closest account of the economics of these presses, to my knowledge, can be deciphered from Renouard 1843, which includes information from price lists given by Henri Estienne’s son Robert, probably in the 1530s (Renouard describes these sources at xiv-xv). 28 The excellent bibliography in PE can be supplemented with the entries on Lefèvre and Clichtove in Lohr 1988. 29 Godefroy 1884, s.v. 30 Cuno and Rhenanus 1512, A2r. “qui ut alter Dedalus faber carpento ornato affabre fabrefacto.” 14 analogy of craft. Above I have stressed the social analogy; here I turn to the conceptual analogy. The analogy was partly a continuation of the ancient discourse of the liberal arts. The enduring power of this tradition was enshrined in the Latin word ars, which like early modern vernacular cognates art, arte, Kunst, did not differentiate learned art from practical craft; we may use the two words interchangeably.31 Josse Clichtove and Charles de Bovelles both wrote schematic overviews of the arts in which one can trace Hugh of St Victor’s account of the liberal arts as analogues of the “servile” mechanical arts or crafts. Bovelles goes one step further, offering a historical development from the mechanical arts that first supplied necessities for bodily sustenance, to the invention of free arts when people first had leisure to consider abstract concepts (beginning with arithmetic and astronomy) (Bovelles 1500, 6r). Such schemes depended on, while also limiting, the notion of ars as techne, technique or knowhow, for they insisted on a strict distinction between manual and mental craft. From the outset, Clichtove retained the association of “servile” arts with the servant and the body, while the liberal or learned arts belonged to the master and the soul (Clichtove 1520, A2v). But Aristotle was another university resource for rethinking this distinction. A continuum between manual and learned craft emerged in Lefèvre’s dialogues on Aristotle’s Metaphysics. The dialogue considers what sort of knowledge characterises the wise man, who is thought to possess the greatest amount of certain knowledge. The discussants agree that “the experienced person without craft works with greater certainty than the craftsman without experience.”32 The kind of “certainty” here has to do with the power to reason from one instance to another. Experience only offers knowledge of singulars, while craft (ars) involves knowledge of universals; therefore someone who has experienced the singular act of binding a book (let’s say) just one time is more likely to succeed in doing it again than someone who has theory but no experience. In the dialogue, the student points out to the teacher that few people master the universals or theory of an art without having first experienced some of it. After all, a universal is inferred from many experienced instances. The teacher recognises that experience does lead to art, but also that sometimes one might want to have art indirectly, by report or from a book. An example comes from medicine: one might happen to be bitten by a snake immediately after drinking a certain vinegar. Finding that the vinegar kept the bite from making them ill; one might then discover this for similar snake bites, for oneself and for others. This experience is a reliable mode of getting knowledge. But, the teacher hints, this is an unwieldy procedure for gaining the whole craft of healing: one might also read such remedies in a book, learning from the experiences of others. Note that such knowledge is not necessarily bookish—it might be passed on by visual inspection or by verbal report. Besides the physician, the other main example of a craftsman (artifex) in this passage is the architect, whose knowledge is not limited to books but nonetheless is a form of universal knowledge that transcends particular instances. The way to wisdom is through books—but the knowledge that went into books was ultimately drawn from experience. 31 For related terminology in the early modern period, see Marr, Garrod, Marcaida, Oosterhoff 2018. 32 Lefèvre and Clichtove 1502, 417v. “Expertus non artifex artifice non experto certius operatur.” 15 Indeed, the organization of bookish knowledge drew on the analogy of manual crafts. Aristotle began the Nicomachean Ethics with the sentence that “every art, every teaching and activity, and likewise every choice appears to seek a certain good,” making craft his starting point for practical reasoning of every kind.33 The political art of directing a city therefore was an “architectonic” discipline by analogy to the architect, whose craft directed all subordinate building trades. While Aristotle did not hesitate to suggest a hierarchy between the various arts, he awarded each a particular dignity; because each art has its own ends, it cannot be reduced to some other art. Even manual arts had intellectual value, while intellectual arts required practical expertise. In the Nicomachean Ethics Aristotle classified art as a quality of mind, a habitus to be set alongside prudence and science; ars or techne was a habitus specifically directed to making. As Lefèvre explained, “art is the same as a habitus that makes according to true reason…. Every art deals with generation and the production of artifice.” 34 In Lefèvre and Clichtove’s brief handbook to moral philosophy, ars features as one of the intellectual virtues. Clichtove again notes the ancient contrast of mechanical and literate arts; but frames the discussion more securely within what the two share. After all, painting and writing require the same virtue of their practitioner: “Just as pictorial art deals with depiction by true reason, according to its rules, so the art of writing also proceeds by true reason and according to the matter itself”.35 In the next sentences, Clichtove describes the preparation of ink, paper, and pen before the formation of letters on vellum, and compares these to a builder’s tools and his attention to the cement, planks, and stones with which he will build. Authorship is explicitly and literally a craft oriented towards making. This stress on the factive character of writing suited the Fabrist circle’s interest in producing textbooks. Since they held that craft was oriented around material objects, contingent on the maker’s skill or artfulness, they also recognised that such objects included the handbooks they made.36 They supplied these books with titles advertising their “artfulness”: they are repeatedly described as artificialis, which elaborate their topics in an artificiose manner (recall Fig. 1). Such adverbs and adjectives make claims about the physical object, in the first place. They claim that the book is well made. As I alluded above, these texts are only components within complex, innovative objects. They are surrounded by synoptic tables, plentiful figures and diagrams, extensive indices, and experimental title pages and frontispieces—these likely authored by student-apprentices. But, secondly, the claim of artfulness, within the Aristotelian discourse of craft, brings together the material and conceptual aims of these objects: these books are artful precisely because their material construction suits their aims, which is to accomplish a certain habit of knowledge within their users. The 33 I translate here the Latin version by Argyropolus published in Lefèvre 1535, 2r. “Omnis ars, omnisque doctrina atque actus, itidem et electio, bonum quoddam appetere videtur.” Aristotle also developed accounts of hand and instruments as the foundational metaphor for abstract thought, in De anima. 34 Lefèvre 1535, 61r. “idem est ars et habitus vera cum ratione factivus…. Omnis ars circa generationem artificiique productionem versatur.” 35 Lefèvre and Clichtove 1507, 43r. “Ut ars pictoria ad pingendum vera cum ratione et secundum illius artis regulas, et ars scribendi ad scribendum vera itidem cum ratione et quemadmodum res ipsa exigit.” 36 Lefèvre and Clichtove 1507, 43r. “ut domus, tunica, calceus potest esse et non esse; versatur enim ars circa contingentia.” 16 crafts bring together particulars with universal judgments in a way that makes scientia possible, as Lefèvre had described it in his dialogues on the Metaphysics. With uneven success, some of Lefèvre’s students brought together the domains of craft and books in other ways too. One example is their special attention to handbooks and treatises of mathematics, a discipline they defended not only because it sharpened minds for conceptual thought, but because it bore particular fruits in practical domains. One of Lefèvre’s closest students and colleagues, Charles de Bovelles, especially represented the circle’s fascination with printed images, diagrams, and other visual apparatus that integrated the hands, eyes, ears, and mind (Klinger-Dollé 2016). Bovelles developed a philosophy that grounded an operative vision of knowledge, in which intellectual progress depended on human creativity— both within the mind and in the world of manual technique. Bovelles even explored these commitments in the world of work, writing the first printed practical geometry in French, proclaiming it would be useful to artisans and “common men,” while relating observations of craft practices around his native Picardy (Bovelles 1511).37 6. CONCLUSION At a very general level, it is obvious that learning in early modern universities retained a residual analogy to learning in craft corporations, owing in part to the origins of universities as guilds. Granting this analogy sustained attention, however, reminds us that learning is more than collecting clever concepts, schemas, or a canon of thoughts. Early modern university students also learned how to make: notes, lists, diagrams, copies, poems, and even entire books. Not all students became authors in their own right, but I have offered a case in which many students took a leading role in collecting, collating, emending, and elaborating the work of their master, the named author. While the evidence of Lefèvre’s circle offers an unusually rich glimpse at these practices, I suspect we would find many similar instances if we look elsewhere.38 Such collaborative authorship could be further compared to the shared enterprise of the artisan master’s atelier. The early modern print shop blurs the analogy between university and workshop. Around 1500 students could find the print shop a novel means for bringing college manuscripts into wider circulation. I have found it useful to distinguish two moments of production, which had characterised late medieval coterie practices of publication. Students first shared the master’s study manuals, and then brought them to wider publics through the press. The first moment established the community through intimacy; the second offered students a means of extending their master’s recognition while they themselves gained experience and credit in exchange for labour. This second moment of print publication offers, therefore a particularly tight analogy with apprenticeship. Further work would need to determine how far beyond the early sixteenth century such practices lasted. Early modern university students likely shared more with their fellow apprentices in the crafts than they do with modern scholars—which should give us pause before we project modern emotions onto past experience. Historians have often distinguished “popular” and “elite” social experiences in early modern culture, sometimes to the point of denying a shared horizon of meaning. Craft and knowledge present one such distinction. The Aristotelian training of premodern universities is 37 On the artisanal sources of this book, see Brioist forthcoming and Oosterhoff 2017. 38 For example, see the current project of Ann Blair, e.g. Blair 2017b. 17 often presented as a source of antipathy to manual and craft knowledge. But this is a partial story at best. To be sure, Aristotelian accounts of the crafts and sciences set out a hierarchy of knowledge in which conceptual knowledge held the highest place. But artisans also were considered to have conceptual knowledge. In fact, these texts picked out craft as the driving exemplar of all forms of knowledge—the foundation of wisdom itself. It was within this framework that the circle of Lefèvre treated their own bookish activities as productive crafts. In the classroom, medieval masters and disciples had striven together to gain the craft required for weaving words with ink and paper, for tying pages together into books. I would add that the early print shop intensified the analogy of university and workshop, enabling students to engage and even control the process of producing books, becoming a key stage in the apprenticeship of a class of early modern bookmen. 18 Acknowledgements My warm thanks to the work group “Knowledgeable Youngsters” for unfailing stimulation and accountability; and also to Patrick Wallis for reading a draft. Reference List Adam, Paul. 1967. L’Humanisme à Sélestat: L’école, les humanistes, la bibliothèque. 2nd ed. Sélestat: Imprimerie Stahl Sélestat, 1967. Allen, Percy Stafford. 1913. “Erasmus’ Relations with His Printers.” The Library 13(1): 297–322. Allen, Percy Stafford et al. eds. 1906. Opus epistolarum Des. Erasmi Roterdami. vol. 2. Oxford: Clarendon. Anheim, Étienne. 2013. “Les hiérarchies du travail artisanal au Moyen Âge entre histoire et historiographie.” Annales. Histoire, Sciences Sociales 68(4): 1027–1038 Armstrong, Elizabeth. 1954. Robert Estienne, Royal Printer: An Historical Study of the Elder Stephanus. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. Barbierato, Federico. 2011. “Writing, Reading, Writing: Scribal Culture and Magical Texts in Early Modern Venice.” Italian Studies 66(2): 263–276. Bedouelle, Guy. 1976. Lefèvre d’Étaples at l’intelligence des Écritures. Genève: Droz. Bietenholz, Peter G. 1971. Basle and France in the Sixteenth Century. Geneva: Droz. Bietenholz, Peter G. and Thomas B. Deutscher, editors. 1985. Contemporaries of Erasmus: A Biographical Register of the Renaissance and Reformation. 3 vols. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. Blair, Ann. 1997. The Theater of Nature: Jean Bodin and Renaissance Science. Princeton University Press. Blair, Ann. 2008. “Student Manuscripts and the Textbook.” In Scholarly Knowledge: Textbooks in Early Modern Europe, edited by Emidio Campi, Simone De Angelis, and Anja-Silvia Goeing, 39–73. Geneva: Librairie Droz. Blair, Ann. 2017a. “Humanism and Printing in the Work of Conrad Gessner.” Renaissance Quarterly 70(1): 1–43. Blair, Ann. 2017b. “The Dedication Strategies of Conrad Gessner,” in Professors, Physicians and Practices in the History of Medicine, edited by Gideon Manning and Cynthia Klestinec, 197–237. Cham: Springer. Boudet, Jean-Patrice. 1997. Le Recueil des plus celebres astrologues de Simon de Phares. 2 vols. Paris: Honoré Champion. 19 Bovelles, Charles de. 1500. Libellus de constitutione et utilitate artium humanorum, in quo et applicatio sermocinalium ad rerum disciplinas atque imprimis Dyalectice edocetur. Paris: Jean Petit. Bovelles, Charles de. 1501. In artem oppositorum introductio. Paris: Wolfgang Hopyl. Bovelles, Charles de. 1511. Géométrie en françoys. 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work_w2fq2rmb5zbjdfxsoahdslmal4	----	Microsoft Word - zumKolk_Household_French_Queen.docx HAL Id: hal-01829746 https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-01829746 Submitted on 4 Jul 2018 HAL is a multi-disciplinary open access archive for the deposit and dissemination of sci- entific research documents, whether they are pub- lished or not. The documents may come from teaching and research institutions in France or abroad, or from public or private research centers. L’archive ouverte pluridisciplinaire HAL, est destinée au dépôt et à la diffusion de documents scientifiques de niveau recherche, publiés ou non, émanant des établissements d’enseignement et de recherche français ou étrangers, des laboratoires publics ou privés. Distributed under a Creative Commons Attribution - NonCommercial - NoDerivatives| 4.0 International License The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Caroline Zum Kolk, France Fr To cite this version: Caroline Zum Kolk, France Fr. The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century. The Court Historian, London : Society for Court Studies, 2009, 14 (1), pp.3-22. �hal-01829746� https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr/hal-01829746 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-nc-nd/4.0/ https://hal.archives-ouvertes.fr Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 1 Caroline zum Kolk The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century1 [Page 3 de la première édition dans la revue The Court Historian] In the long history of the household of the queen of France, the sixteenth century marked a peak: never before or since was its staff so numerous, or was it so deeply involved in life at court. This article will survey the history of the queen's household and its structure and functions in the sixteenth century. No systematic study has yet been dedicated to the history and function of the household of the queen of France. Of course, the structural and numerical evolution of royal households under the late Valois kings has been described at length and analysed as a rupture with the past, 2 with their increasing number of office holders, the appearance of new titles and the growing effort to define court ceremonial. Nonetheless, few studies highlight the specific role played by the queen and her entourage within this evolution. In general, the queen’s household is briefly compared to the king’s hôtel, with the conclusion that similar structures defined both institutions. Only the relatively smaller size, the presence of women and the existence of a few specific offices tend to be emphasised. 3 Such an approach makes it impossible to define the contours of the queen’s household and understand its importance for the court and its development. In the long history of this institution, the sixteenth century marked a peak. This [page 4] article will illustrate this evolution through an account of the history of the queen’s household, its structure in the sixteenth century and its role in the development of the Renaissance court. 1 This article is based on a thesis, Caroline zum Kolk, Catherine de Médicis et sa maison : la fonction politique de la maison de la reine, 1533-1574, supervised by Jacques Gélis et Joël Cornette, Université Paris VIII. I would like to thank Kathleen Wilson Chevalier for her careful proof-reading of this text. 2 Robert J. Knecht, The French Renaissance Court (New Haven and London, 2008) presents a short history and analysis of the structure of the king’s household; see also his article ‘The Court of Francis I’, in European Studies Review, 8/1, January 1978, pp. 1-22. Mack P. Holt examines the household of François de Valois, Duke of Alençon and Anjou in The Duke of Anjou and the Politique Struggle during the Wars of Religion, (Cambridge, 1986) and Jeroen Duindam’s study Vienna and Versailles: The Courts of Europe’s Dynastic Rivals, 1550-1780 (Cambridge, 2003) deals to some extent with the court at the end of the Valois dynasty. In France, Monique Chatenet considers the evolution and structure of royal households in La cour de France au XVI e siècle: vie sociale et architecture (Paris, 2002). Nicolas le Roux examines the growth of the household of Henri III and its importance for patronage in La faveur du roi: mignons et courtisans au temps des derniers Valois (Seyssel, 2000). Older, yet still very helpful, is Jacqueline Boucher’s dissertation, Société et mentalités autour d’Henri III (Université de Lyon 2, 1977). 3 I use both hôtel and maison to refer to the household. These expressions appear in royal administration documents to designate the officers and nobles who served a member of the royal family. Hôtel was used primarily in the Middle Ages; in the sixteenth century maison slowly replaced it. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 2 The Queen’s Household in the Middle Ages Beginning in 1957-9, excavations were undertaken in the crypt of the basilica of Saint Denis. An extraordinary discovery was made in an area beneath the chevet: a royal tomb from the Merovingian dynasty was found intact. A ring made it possible to identify the body of Queen Arégonde (who died between 560 and 580), the wife of Clotaire I. Her sarcophagus was also surrounded by a series of tombs of other women from the same time. Their fine accessories and gold-embroidered clothing bore witness to their high social rank. No object or inscription made it possible to identify these women, or establish whether they belonged to nobility or if they were kin to, or simple servants of, the queen. Yet, Michel Fleury and Albert France-Lanord suggested that their tombs formed ‘a small island reserved for a special category of relatives which could have been that of a royal gynaceum’. 4 The fact that these women were buried beside their mistress offers one of the very first indications of the existence of a queenly retinue. Chronicles provide further evidence of a household that was specific to the queen. Certain queens were landowners; others acted as regents during the minority of their sons. In either instance, the service of officers and servants was required. The king’s responsibilities led to the frequent separation of the couple, and the queen must have had her own servants, who remained by her side during her husband’s absence. Gregory of Tours speaks of a certain Florentien, who was mayor of the palace of Queen Faileuba, the wife of Childebert II. 5 Beginning in the eighth century, more numerous sources make it possible to understand better the role of the queen at court. A crucial text, sometimes considered to be the first ordinance produced by the courts of western Europe, is the De Ordine Palatii by Hincmar of Rheims, written about 882. Hincmar opens his discourse on the organisation of the palace with the notion that ‘the king and the queen, with their very noble family, rose above all others’. Thereafter, the author describes the responsibilities of the officers in charge of ecclesiastical and legal aspects of government, as well as the numerous figures who served the royal family. He concludes: ‘... each one of the officers invoked was independent in his office, had no one above him, and responded directly to the king himself, or, in certain cases, to the queen and the royal family.’ 6 . Her day-to-day role included overseeing gifts from visitors and vassals and working with the Chambrier to ensure that the court was well supplied with everything it needed. The queen was thus regarded as an auxiliary of the king, who could act in place of her husband in the control and management of the royal staff. [page 5] On the other hand, Hincmar does not provide any information concerning the existence of a household specific to the queen. According to A. Fößel, such a staff must have existed, because a 4 Michel Fleury, Albert France-Lanord, ‘Les sépultures mérovingiennes de Saint-Denis’, in Cahiers de la Rothonde, 7, 1984, p. 38. 5 Grégoire de Tours, Histoire des Francs (Paris, 1963), p. 222. 6 F. Guizot (éd.), Hincmar de Reims: annales de l’Europe carolingienne, 840-903; annales de Saint Bertin et de Metz; lettre sur l’organisation du palais (Clermont-Ferrand, 2002), pp. 229-264. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 3 seneschal of Queen Judith, the wife of Louis le Pieux, is named in documents. 7 The queens were also accompanied by a group of military officers, not only for their protection but also as a sign of their dignity. 8 As in the case of the king, they had several nutrii, young noblemen who received their education at the court. When Charlemagne divorced his first wife Desiderata, two of her nutrii prefered to join a nunnery rather than serve the King’s second wife. 9 The advent of the Capetian dynasty and the feudal system marked a turning point. The entourage of the king lost its splendour: dukes and counts left the royal court, which was taken over by the nobles of the Ile de France. The responsibilities of major offices and positions were less well defined than in the Carolingian period. 10 Until the twelfth century, documentation emanating from the court is rare, and no document from the chancellery furnishes information about its structure. 11 The king’s officers are evoked in the writings of political thinkers such as Suger or Guibert de Nogent, but court literature provides little information regarding the queen’s household. Joachim Bumke detected in the works of Chrétien de Troyes the presence of chambriers and seneschals of the queen and concluded that the formation of an autonomous hôtel for the queen occurred in France at a very early date, in the second half of the twelfth century 12 . As we have seen, it had already existed under the Merovingian and Carolingian dynasties, so it would be more appropriate to say it re-occurred. During these two centuries, several queens left their mark on the politics of their age. Constance d’Arles (circa 984-1032) led a revolt against her son Henri I er ; Alienor d’Aquitaine (1124-1204) played an active role in the government of Aquitaine while she was queen of France (1137-52); and Adèle de Champagne (1150-1206) was co-regent during the absence of her son, Philippe Auguste. She [page 6] 7 Amalie Fössel, Die Königin im mittelalterlichen Reich (Stuttgart, 2000), p. 82. 8 Régine Le Jan, Femmes, pouvoir et société dans le haut Moyen Âge (Paris, 2001), p. 43. 9 Janet NELSON, « Women at the court of Charlemagne: A case of monstrous regiment ? », dans John C. Parsons (éd.), Medieval Queenship, New York, Palgrave Macmillan, 1997, p. 52. 10 Eric Bournazel, ‘La familia regis Francorum’, in A. Marchandisse, J.-L. Kupper (eds), À l'Ombre du pouvoir; les entourages princiers au Moyen Âge (Genève, 2003), pp. 115-133. 11 The chancellery of the first Capetian kings was not very enterprising. Olivier Guyotjeannin has identified only 16 charters and ordinances from Hugues Capet, 61 from Robert le Pieux and 94 from Henri I er . It was under Philippe I er that documentation became more abundant (163 items). See O. Guyotjeannin, ‘Résidences et Palais des premiers Capétiens en Ile-de-France’, in Jean Chapelot, Elisabeth Lalou (eds), Vincennes aux origines de l’Etat moderne: actes du colloque scientifique sur Les Capétiens et Vincennes au Moyen Âge (Paris, 1996), p. 124. 12 In Frankreich scheint sich die Aussonderung eines Hofstaats für die Königin bereits in der zweiten Hälfte des 12. Jahrhunderts angebahnt zu haben. Entsprechende Nachrichten für Deutschland fehlen’, Joachim Bumke, Höfische Kultur (München, 1986), p. 490. See also Peter Strohschneider, ‘Kemenate’, in Jan Hirschbiegel, Werner Paravicini (ed.), Das Frauenzimmer: Die Frau bei Hofe in Spätmittelalter und früher Neuzei -. 6. Symposium der Residenzen- Kommission der Akademie der Wissenschaften in Göttingen (Stuttgart, 2000), p. 30. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 4 seems to have had a personal chancellery at her disposal 13 and left more than 110 charters, one of which concerns one of her ladies-in-waiting, ‘domicella Alice’. The Queen offered her a vineyard near Melun. 14 The middle of the thirteenth century is a key moment for the study of the French court. The first ordinance dealing with the responsibilities and privileges of court officers is dated 1261. 15 Thereafter, this kind of document multiplied, especially under the reigns of the grandsons of St Louis. 16 After 1350 a second group of sources came into existence: the états - that is, lists of the members of a household, with information about their duties and wages. 17 The queen’s hôtel regularly appears in these sources. The ordinance from 1261 includes measures which targeted less her household than her behaviour: St Louis forbade Marguerite de Provence to invite ladies or noble persons to join her and to prolong conversations with visitors: She must not summon to her presence ladies or other great persons, and when they come [to court] she should not keep them for a long time; she should not let herself talk lightly to so many visitors, but should excuse herself from their presence in honest terms, as is suitable. Equally, the King made it clear that the Queen should neither appoint royal officers, nor give them orders: She should not ask anything of, or give orders to , the Bailly, the Prevost du Roy or others who hold an office from the King, and she should not by her authority appoint anybody to Baillieships, sergeantships or any other office. We have come a long way from the prestigious role assumed by Carolingian queens. The same instructions resurfaced sixty years later: Marie de Luxembourg remained subject to them in 1322. 18 13 Jean Dufour, ‘Adèle de Champagne, troisième femme de Louis VII, une reine méconnue’, in Marcel Faure, Reines et princesses au Moyen Âge: actes du cinquième colloque international de Montpellier Université Paul-Valéry (24-27 novembre 1999) (Montpellier, 2001), p. 41. 14 Jean Dufour, ‘Adèle de Champagne’, p. 37. See also Marion Facinger ‘A Study of Medieval Queenship: Capetian France (987-1237)’, in Studies in Medieval and Renaissance History, 5, 1968, pp. 1-47, and Jean Dufour, ‘Le rôle des reines de France aux IXe et Xe siècles’, in Comptes rendus de l'Académie des Inscriptions et Belles-lettres, 1998, p. 913- 932. 15 The original is lost but several copies of this document are extant; the oldest, written by a clerk of the chambre des comptes, dates from 1317: Archives Nationales, JJ 57. 16 Most of these documents have been edited by Elisabeth Lalou and can be consulted online (Ædilis, Publications scientifiques, http://www.cn-telma.fr/ordonnances/). 17 The ordinance of 1261 already uses the term état: ‘c'est l'ordonnance et estat de l'ostel de la royne’. In the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, the word tends to designate administrative documents such as lists of the members of a household. 18 BNF ms. fr. nouv. ac. 9175, folio 339; this reappearance has been already signaled by A.-M. Münster, Funktionen der Dames et Demoiselles d'honneur im Gefolge französischer Königinnen und Herzoginnen (14. - 15. Jhd.), in Hirschbiegel, Paravicini, Das Frauenzimmer, p. 339. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 5 An ordinance of 1286 gives information about the structure of the household of Queen Jeanne de Navarre, wife of Philippe IV ‘le Bel’, which provided all the [page 7] services and officers that enabled her to move about on her own. 19 Her stable and fourrière included an equerry, a marshal, a fourrier, a palefrenier and several valets; two coches were at the disposal of the queen and her five ladies and maidens-in-waiting. At table, she and her retinue were served by panetiers and échansons. The kitchen was not separated into the cuisine bouche and the cuisine de commun as in the king’s household, since the hôtel was not large enough to justify such an arrrangement. The meals of the entire staff were prepared by two cooks, two hasteurs, one saucier, one potier, one poulailler, one fruitier and several valets and aides. A chaplain, an almoner and a chapel cleric attended to the spiritual needs of the Queen and her servants. The chambre aux deniers supervised expenditures under the control of a maître de la chambre, Michel de Morgneval. Like Philippe IV, the Queen had only one maitre d’hôtel, Jean du Chastelier, and two physicians (fisiciens). Her clothes were made by a tailor and a valet couturier and cleaned by two washerwomen along with the household linen. This core staff later grew in size, despite a cut in 1315, when Louis X decided to merge his household with that of his wife in order to limit the number of court servants. 20 This decision was revoked a few month later, and in the following decade, the Queen’s hôtel gained in autonomy. An important step was taken in 1316 with the creation of a household specifically for the royal children: prior to this date they had been served by their mother’s staff. 21 In that year, the King’s hôtel counted 164 members, the Queen’s 102 and the household of the children 42. In the ensuing years, royal households continued to grow, reaching their apogee in 1326: Queen Jeanne d' Evreux then had a staff of 212 people at her disposal. Her household was tightly structured, and, like the King’s hôtel, comprised five chambres and six metiers. These increases did not, however, continue. A gap in the documentation between 1326 to 1450 makes it impossible to follow the evolution of the royal hôtels during this period of over a century. However we find that the household of Queen Marie d’Anjou at the end of the Hundred Years War was significantly smaller than that of Jeanne d’Evreux had been in 1326. 22 Between 1326 and 1452 there had been a two-thirds reduction in the number of the queen’s servants. 19 The Ordonnance de l’hôtel de Philippe IV le Bel et Jeanne de Navarre (AN JJ 57, f. 1-1, n° 142, edited by E. Lalou (http://www.cn-telma.fr/ordonnances/ordonnance1/) specifies that the spouses were regularly apart. 20 Ordonnance de l’hôtel du roi et de la reine, 1315: ‘C’est l’ordenance qui est faite pour mettre l’ostel le roy et l’ostel la royne tout à un’ (BNF, coll. Clair. 832, p. 646. Edited by E. Lalou (http://www.cn-telma.fr/ordonnances/ordonnance5/). 21 Ordonnance de l’hôtel de Jeanne de Bourgogne, 1316 (BNF ms. fr. nouv. ac. 9175, folio 337). 22 The états from 1452 and 1461 are not complete (the chancellery, the chambre, the kitchen, the fruiterie and the fourrière are missing; they surely existed, though, since Marie d’Anjou lived most of the time apart from the King). Nevertheless, when the staff of the various different departments is compared to 1326, the decline in numbers is obvious. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 6 This unsatisfactory situation ended during the reign of Charles VIII and Anne de Bretagne. Scrutiny of preceding états can help us to understand this change of direction. [page 8] The Departments of the Household of the Queen in the Middle Ages (1326-1490) 23 Offices 1326 1452 1461 1479 1484 1490 Dames 12 4 3 - 8 9 Damoiselles 6 13 11 - 10 14 Métiers Paneterie 13 4 4 6 7 8 Échansonnerie 16 4 5 6 6 6 Cuisine 32 - - 10 13 13 Fruiterie 7 - - 3 4 2 Écurie 35 2 2 17 5 11 Fourrière 11 - - 5 5 4 Valets tranchants 0 3 3 1 3 3 Total métiers 114 13 14 48 43 47 Chambres Maîtres d'hôtel 3 6 6 6 7 13 Chambre aux deniers 4 4 5 - 2 2 Chapelle 15 14 17 4 3 3 Chancellerie 2 - - 1 2 2 Chambre 16 - - 4 4 4 Total chambres 40 24 28 15 18 24 Divers 40 17 24 7 15 15 Total état 212 71 80 70 94 109 In 1484, Anne de France, duchess of Beaujeu and Bourbon, was regent of the realm. The household of the Queen, Marguerite d’Autriche, was serving a child: Marguerite was only four. Nevertheless, her hôtel, for the first time since 1326, was solidly structured, with ladies and numerous officers present in all of its divisions. With its ninety-four servants, its size had increased, and the number of 23 BNF ms. fr. nouv. ac. 9175. 1326: Jeanne d'Evreux, wife of Charles IV le Bel, f. 341; 1452 and 1461: Marie d'Anjou, wife of Charles VII, f. 347; 1479: Charlotte de Savoie, f. 351; 1484-1490: Marguerite d’Autriche, promised in marriage to Charles VIII, repudiated in 1491, f. 353. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 7 ladies and maids of honour was once again approaching the level of 1326. Only those who worked in the stables were fewer in number, a fact which can be explained by the Queen’s youth. Six years later, Marguerite had at her disposal a well furnished écurie and five more maîtres d’hôtel. A comparison between the offices in the maisons of 1326 and of 1484-1490 show an increasing specialisation and a heightened hierarchy: [page 9] Offices of the Household of the Queen (1326 and 1484-1490) 1326 1484 and 1490 Dames Damoiselles Damoiselles des Dames Chevaliers Metiers: Paneterie Échansons Cuisine Fruiterie Écurie Fourrière Valets tranchants Chambres: Maîtres d'hôtel Chambre aux deniers Chapelle: Chapelains Clercs de chapelle Confesseur Chancellerie: Notaires Divers: Physiciens Huissier d'armes Sergents d'armes Huissiers de salle Portiers Valets de porte Femmes mariées Filles d'honneur Femmes de chambre Filles de chambre Femmes des filles Metiers: Paneterie Échansons Cuisine Fruiterie Écurie Fourrière Valets tranchants Écuyers d'Écurie Maréchal des logis Fourriers Tapissier Lavandières Chambres: Maîtres d'hôtel Trésorier Contrôleur de l'Argenterie Chapelle (no detail available) Chancellerie: Secrétaires Clercs d'Office Divers: Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 8 Valets servant le vin en salle Valets of the Queen: Écuyers servants Creue puis l'ordonnance Médecin Apothicaire Huissiers de chambre Huissiers de salle Valets of the Queen: Valets de Chambre Valets de Garde-robe [page 10] The Expansion of the Queen’s Household (1496-1589) In 1496 a major change occurred with respect to the hôtel of the queen. It began with a spectacular increase in the size of Anne de Bretagne’s household. Her staff rose from 88 to 253 servants and stayed at this level until 1498, 24 at which date its size was 88 per cent of that of the King (286 members). Never in its history was the Queen’s maison so close in size to that of her husband. The Size and Relationship of the Households of the King and Queen of France (1286-1786) 25 Year Household of the king Household of the queen Percentage 1286 98 47 48 % 1315 96 61 64 % 1490 318 109 34 % 1494-5 366 88 24 % 1498 286 253 88 % 1523 540 285 53 % 1555 1000 400 40 % 1572 1064 384 36 % 1584 1096 374 34 % 1605 1024 24 Maison of Anne de Bretagne, 1494: Ms. fr. 8269 (388-389). 1496-1498: BNF, Ms.fr. 8269 (403-408). 25 Numbers between parentheses in italics are estimates based on the totals closest to the year in question. For the size of the households see, also: Monique Chatenet, La Cour de France, pp. 26-7; Alexis Diagne-Noël, L'Hôtel de la reine de France à la fin du Moyen Âge, 1261-1422 (Université Paris IV, 1984), p. 32-33; Nicolas Le Roux, ‘La Maison du roi sous les premiers Bourbons: institution sociale et outil politique’, in Chantal Grell, Benoît Pellistrandi (ed.), Les Cours d'Espagne et de France au XVIIe siècle (Madrid, 2007), pp. 13-40; Jacqueline Boucher, ‘L’Évolution de la maison du roi des derniers Valois aux premiers Bourbons’, in XVIIe siècle, 1982, n° 137, pp. 359-380; Sophie de Laverny, Les domestiques commensaux du roi au XVIIe siècle (Paris, 2002); Mathieu da Vinha, ‘La maison d’Anne d’Autriche’, in Chantal Grell (ed.), Anne d'Autriche, infante d'Espagne et reine de France (Madrid, 2009); Caroline zum Kolk (ed.), Curia - The Royal Households in the 17th and 18th Centuries: Databases, documents, studies (Research project, Centre de recherche du château de Versailles, http://chateauversailles-recherche.fr/curia/curia.html); Philip Mansel, The Court of France, 1789-1830 (Cambridge, 1988). Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 9 Year Household of the king Household of the queen Percentage 1609 1024 465 46 % 1612 26 1780 (422) 24 % 1616 422 1624 1080 (517) 48 % 1625 517 1646 (1661) 701 42 % 1648 1661 1663 833 443 53 % 1674 1139 559 49 % [page 11] Year Household of the king Household of the queen Percentage 1683 1866 610 33 % 1727 (896) 442 50 % 1729 896 1736 (896) 434 48 % 1749 (921) 449 49 % 1755 921 1781 (427) 501 117 % 27 1786 427 The extant états de maison allow us to follow closely the development of sixteenth-century households: no fewer than forty-nine years are well documented. 28 Despite gaps in the record and evidence of occasional downward trends (in 1530, 1544, 1560, 1575), there is a clear pattern of increasing household size. From 1496 to 1589, the average hovers around 319 individuals, while the average number of ladies and maids of honour is 54. The life cycle of the Queen’s hôtel becomes apparent: upon its creation (in 1530, 1547, 1571 and 1575), the staff was at first reduced but then grew rapidly, reaching its peak three or four years later. In 1552-4, when Catherine de’ Medici controlled the regency, the size of her hôtel underwent an exceptional growth. Moments of economic difficulty or court reorganisation (1544, 1560) could 26 Louis XIII was then a minor. 27 In 1780, Louis XVI reorganised his household and seriously reduced its size; the Queen’s household did not immediately follow suite. See Duindam, Vienna and Versailles, pp. 61 and 68. 28 Besides the already quoted documents, my analysis is founded on the following états conserved at the Bibliothèque Nationale: Claude de France, 1523: Ms.fr. nouv. ac. 9175 (367-370); Eléonore d’Autriche, 1530-1547: Ms.fr. nouv. ac. 9175 (371-378) ; Catherine de’ Medici, 1547-1585: Ms. fr. 7854 (13-36) ; Marie Stuart, 1560: Ms.fr. nouv. ac. 9175 (395-398) ; Elisabeth d’Autriche, 1571-1574: Ms.fr. nouv. ac. 9175 (399-404) ; Louise de Lorraine, 1575-1590: Ms.fr. nouv. ac. 9175 (405-412). Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 10 lead to a reduction in numbers. The largest increase took place between 1494 and 1496: in 1496, the household nearly tripled. How can this sudden expansion be explained? There were several contributory factors. One was the influence of the Italian Renaissance, which saw the birth of courts on the Italian peninsula in which women were present in greater numbers than in the Middle Ages. Their participation in cultural and political life consequently gained in visibility. The wealth and luxury of the Italian courts thereafter became a model for all of Europe, facilitating the integration of women at court. Another factor, politically determined, was that at the end of the Middle Ages the dynastic principle became stronger and was accompanied by a new level of pageantry and pomp. The queen of France, closely associated with royal dignity, was by no means excluded from this rise in dynastic prestige. The court played a [page 12] The Size of the Household of the Queen of France (1494-1589) Queen Year Total Queen Year Total Anne de Bretagne 1494 88 Catherine de’ Médici 1551 309 Anne de Bretagne 1496 253 Catherine de’ Médici 1552 340 Anne de Bretagne 1497 253 Catherine de’ Médici 1553 334 Anne de Bretagne 1498 253 Catherine de’ Médici 1554 405 Claude de France 1523 285 Catherine de’ Médici 1555 400 Eléonore d'Autriche 1530 253 Marie Stuart 1560 289 Eléonore d'Autriche 1531 272 Elisabeth d'Autriche 1571 339 Eléonore d'Autriche 1532 311 Elisabeth d'Autriche 1572 384 Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 11 Eléonore d'Autriche 1533 320 Elisabeth d'Autriche 1573 389 Eléonore d'Autriche 1534 315 Elisabeth d'Autriche 1574 369 Eléonore d'Autriche 1535 298 Louise de Lorraine 1575 278 Eléonore d'Autriche 1536 298 Louise de Lorraine 1576 283 Eléonore d'Autriche 1537 297 Louise de Lorraine 1577 290 Eléonore d'Autriche 1538 303 Louise de Lorraine 1578 291 Eléonore d'Autriche 1539 302 Louise de Lorraine 1579 317 Eléonore d'Autriche 1540 306 Louise de Lorraine 1580 331 Eléonore d'Autriche 1541 302 Louise de Lorraine 1581 340 Eléonore d'Autriche 1542 280 Louise de Lorraine 1582 351 Eléonore d'Autriche 1543 263 Louise de Lorraine 1583 368 Eléonore d'Autriche 1544 259 Louise de Lorraine 1584 374 Eléonore d'Autriche 1545 279 Louise de Lorraine 1585 369 Eléonore d'Autriche 1546 268 Louise de Lorraine 1586 370 Catherine de’Médici 1547 291 Louise de Lorraine 1587 367 Catherine de Médici 1548 297 Louise de Lorraine 1588 390 Catherine de’ Médici 1549 303 Louise de Lorraine 1589 404 Catherine de’ Médici 1550 317 [page 13] fundamental role in this new representation of power, and its growth can be observed in most European countries. Increases in the households of the prince, the princess and the other members of the family accompanied this development. This expansion fulfilled another function, also political: it made it possible to create a large number of positions and offices which could be used to reward clients of the crown. The growing importance of the patronage system contributed to the increasing size and grandeur of the court. These transformations, effected at the majority of European courts, form the context for the growth of the household of the queen, but cannot, alone, account for it: the households of princesses did not everywhere increase, nor did they necessarily maintain their independence. Several specific cultural and political factors contributed to the development of the queen’s household in France. First of all, France was influenced by the Burgundian court. The memoirs of a lady-in-waiting, Eléonore de Poitiers, 29 written in 1484-7, show that contact between the two courts was close. In the fifteenth century, the Duchess of Burgundy’s hôtel was bigger than that of the Queen, its ceremonial more firmly developed 30 . As we shall see, several offices and dignities would be ‘imported’ from Burgundy into the household of Anne de Bretagne. 29 Jacques Paviot (ed.), ‘Les Etats de France d’Eléonore de Poitiers’, Annuaire Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire de France (Paris, 1998), n° 516, pp. 75-118. 30 Monique Sommé, Isabelle de Portugal, duchesse de Bourgogne: une femme au pouvoir au 15 e siècle (Villeneuve d’Ascq, 1998), pp. 229, 240, 249. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 12 Another influence may have devolved from the Querelle des femmes, which began during the reign of Charles VI and Isabeau de Bavière. This polemical debate about female honour left its mark on ladies of high rank. When Anne de Bretagne settled at the French court, she brought from Brittany six tapestries illustrating Le Livre de la Cité des Dames by Christine de Pizan, 31 the major text in defence of women produced in this debate. Anne developed a form of art patronage which proved her personal commitment to enhacing the role of women and their political status (Figure 1). 32 She he had grown up in a duchy which was not subject to Salic law: women could exercise power there, and Anne intended to preserve her status as a ‘ruler in her own right’ at the court of France. An impressive and well staffed household was a basic requirement for this. Fortunately, Anne had the example of a predecessor near at hand. Her views coincided with the concept of female honour and dignity held by Anne de Beaujeu, the dominant figure at the French court from 1483 to 1491. During her regency, the sister of Charles VIII had to come to terms with violent opposition from those who believed that women were incapable of ruling. However, through her political activities - and also her patronage of the arts - she managed to impose her authority. In this way, the Duchess assumed ‘a role as teacher and mentor to [page 14] 31 Elizabeth Lestrange, ‘Le mécénat d’Anne de Bretagne’, in Kathleen Wilson-Chevalier (ed.), Patronnes et mécènes en France à la Renaissance (Saint Etienne, 2007), p. 172. 32 Manuscrit Antoine Du Four, Les Vies des Femmes célèbres, Inv. Ms 18, F°1, Musée départemental Dobrée, Nantes, France. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 13 Anne de Bretagne and her ladies-in-waiting receiving from Antoine Dufour the manuscript ‘Les vies des femmes célèbres’ (Reproduced by kind permission of Musée Départemental Dobrée, Conseil Général de Loire-Atlantique, Nantes, France [page 15] several young ladies of rank, including Marguerite d’Autriche, Louise de Savoie, Anne de Bretagne and Diane de Poitiers’. 33 33 Elizabeth Lestrange, ‘Sainte Anne et le mécénat d’Anne de France’, in Wilson-Chevalier, Patronnes et mécènes, p. 137. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 14 It is this coming together of cultural and historical circumstances that explains the evolution of the household of the queen of France, the growth of which was not only a question of size but also of structural changes and the creation of impressive new offices. The Divisions and Their Evolution The general increase in manpower did not affect all the services of the hôtel in a uniform way. Some areas changed considerably; others, hardly at all. Ten major divisions characterise the états de maison of the last Valois queens, arranged according to the prestige of their members and duties. First named are the dame d’honneur, the gouvernantes and the noblewomen of the queen’s retinue, as well as the female personnel that served them (chambermaids, washerwomen, linen maids, nurses). Like their male counterparts, the female nobility can be divided into three groups. The first consists of members of the most important aristocratic families, state servants and clients of the crown ; in addition to women of the high nobility, this group includes the wives of the chancellor, the marshals and other dignitaries of the realm. The second group consists of clients of the queen's family who had followed her to France or who chose to join her after her accession to the throne; this group was sometimes stable (as in the case of the Medici-clients protected by Catherine de’ Medici) and sometimes not. The third group consists of personal clients and friends whom she gradually introduced into her household. 34 The women are followed by the most important offices held by men: the chevalier d'honneur and gentilshommes d’honneur, the maîtres d’hôtel and the noblemen who served the queen, her women and guests at table: panetiers, cupbearers, esquires and valets tranchants. Sometimes listed here are the First or Grand écuyer, and esquires of the stable, a fact which underlined the prestige of this office. 35 The third division is the chapel of the queen, with a Grand or Premier Aumonier who directed the almoners, confessor, cantors, chaplains, clerics, musicians and singers. Fourth comes the chancellery; its duties can be interwoven with those of the chambre aux deniers, the queen’s treasury, because the secrétaires des finances were sometimes listed here. The chancellery staff was composed of secretaries, clerks and accountants. The counsellors and maîtres des requêtes formed a group of their own. [page 16] 34 About the role of the household for patronage and the role of the king and the queen in its constitution, see Caroline zum Kolk, ‘Les femmes à la cour de France au 16 e siècle: la fonction politique de la maison de Catherine de Médicis (1533-1574)’, in E. Santinelli, A. Nayt-Dubois (ed.), Femmes de pouvoir et pouvoir de femmes dans l’Europe occidentale médiévale et moderne, actes de colloque, université de Valenciennes, 6-8 avril 2006 (Valenciennes, 2009). 35 The stables (écurie) and their staff do not appear in all the états de maison. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 15 The officers of the Chamber are numerous. In addition to the masters of the chamber, valets, doorkeepers, pages and fourriers, there are the officers responsible for the wardrobe and tapestries (masters and valets of the wardrobe, tailors, tapestry-makers). The doctors in charge of the health of the queen and her staff also appear in this section (physicians, surgeons, apothecaries, barbers). After the Chamber staff are mentioned three divisions : the sommeliers, the cuisine bouche and the cuisine du commun. The cuisines were each overseen by an equerry. The cuisine bouche prepared meals for the queen and her noble entourage, while the cuisine du commun served the rest for her staff. More than sixteen different specialised roles could be found in the two kitchens. The ninth division is the fourrière, which organised the journeys of the queen and her household under the direction of the Maréchaux des logis. They are followed by various functions related to hunting and by the Gens de métier, or craftsmen. In this division musicians, painters, stone-carvers, silversmiths and goldsmiths are sometimes listed. The last division is that of the queen’s treasury, the Chambre aux Deniers. Under the direction of the treasurer and the Receveur Général, the secretaries and finance clerks managed the income and expenditure of the queen and looked after her domains; the receivers and secretaries of the chancellery supported them in this task. If we take all the divisions together, female staff are the most numerous, an average of seventy-one. Next comes the sommeliers (43 in number), the Chamber (41) and the ninth division (Fourrière / crafts, 38 or 39). The other divisions totalled between 20 and 30 employees (in descending order: Table, cuisine du commun, cuisine bouche, chapel and chancellery). The Treasury was the smallest, with only two employees; the secrétaires des finances were under the chancellery. Average Numbers of the Divisions of the Queen’s Household (1496-1589) Department Average Women 71 Table / Maîtres d’hôtel 29 Chapel 22 Chancellery 21 Chamber 41 Sommeliers 43 Cuisine bouche 22,5 Cuisine commun 29 Fourrière and crafts 38,5 Treasury 2 Total 319 [page 17] Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 16 The period from 1530 to 1588 is well documented, allowing us to make sense of the variations within the different divisions. The expansion of female personnel from 35 to 124 is particularly noteworthy, as are those of the Chapel (from 16 to 40) and the Chancellery (11 to 40). The Chamber (34 to 55) and the Fourrière (crafts department) (27 to 44) increased to a lesser extent. The Chancellery of the queen was volatile: in 1554-5 it had 48 / 47 members; in 1573-4, 34 / 35 members; and at the end of the 1580’s its membership varied between 28 and 40. In 1575, when the household of Louise de Lorraine was constituted, two divisions decreased quite significantly: the Sommeliers (44 in 1530, 53 in 1574, 26 in 1575, 28 in 1589) and the Table / maîtres d’honneur (31 in 1530, 37 in 1574, 22 in 1575, 29 in 1589). The decrease in the Cuisine du commun (28 in 1530, 22 in 1589) was less dramatic, and no particular variations affected the Cuisine bouche (24 in 1530, 20 in 1589) or the Treasury. On the whole, the services responsible for the day-to-day management of the household remained stable or even decreased, except for the fourrière which experienced a slight growth. The increases were mainly in the divisions involved with pageantry (ladies-in-waiting, the Chamber), religion (chapel) and administration (chancellery). It is in these sectors, too, that most of the new offices arose. The Creation of New Dignities and Offices The creation of new dignities took place at three crucial points: 1496, 1523-1534 and 1547. In 1496 Anne de Bretagne integrated into her household three Grands Officiers. The most important new post was that of Chevalier d’honneur. This office had existed at the Burgundian court since 1430. 36 At the court of France, it progressively replaced the office of the Grand maître de l’hôtel de la reine, who in the fifteenth century directed her household. 37 The Grand Maître worked alongside the Chevalier d’honneur until 1523, when he disappeared from the états. This was the first year that one of the Maîtres d'hôtel was named Premier maître d’hôtel in order to support the Chevalier d’honneur in the performance of his multiple duties. The most prestigious task was to accompany the Queen through the palace and to assist her on every occasion. Physical contact was strictly monitored: he could lead the Queen only by touching her arm. 38 The Chevalier d’honneur was senior in rank to all the male officers of the household, and supervised the expenditure of all its divisions. 36 Sommé, Isabelle du Portugal, p. 289. 37 The presence of an officer of this sort is documented in the hôtels of Isabeau de Bavière, Marguerite d’Autriche and Anne de Bretagne: Maurice Rey, Les finances royales sous Charles VI: les causes du déficit (1388-1413) (Paris, 1965), p. 193; Florence Trombert, ‘Une reine de quatre ans à la cour de France: Marguerite d’Autriche, 1484-1485’, Geneviève Contamine, Philippe Contamine (ed.), Autour de Marguerite d’Écosse: reines, princesses et dames du 15 e siècle (Paris, 1999), p. 127. 38 D.L. Potter, P.R. Roberts, ‘An Englishman’s View of the Court of Henri III, 1584-1585: Richard Cook’s Description of the Court of France’, French History, tome 2, 1988, p. 341; quoted and translated by Chatenet, La cour de France, p. 25. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 17 [page 18] Anne de Bretagne introduced a second dignitary who functioned as a counterpart to the Chevalier d’honneur: her stables were directed by a Grand écuyer who assisted the Queen during her excursions outside the palace. 39 He was second in the hierarchy of the household. At the burial of his mistress, the Grand écuyer walked behind the coffin, the Chevalier d’honneur along the right side of it. The third office introduced by Anne was that of the Grand Aumônier, which appeared in 1496. He supervised the work of the chapel staff as well as the distribution of alms. 40 The Grand Ecuyer and the Grand Aumônier had existed in the King’s household since the Middle Ages and were two of the most prestigious offices of the court. Anne’s intention in creating these roles was to place her household on the same level as her husband’s. During the reign of Francis I, changes affected mainly the noble ladies of the household, the dames and demoiselles d’honneur. In 1523 the office of the Première dame d’honneur, the highest of the women in the Queen’s retinue, gave way to a new dignity, the Dame d’honneur. 41 From 1523 on, every queen had a dame d’honneur; Louise de Lorraine had two, each of whom served for a six month period. The dame d’honneur supervised the ladies-in-waiting and accompanied the queen wherever she went. 42 Like the Chevalier d’honneur, she was involved in the management of household expenditure. A letter from Catherine de’ Médici indicates that her dame d’honneur oversaw the ordering of clothing, medicines and other objects useful to the queen and her ladies. 43 When the queen received visitors, it was she who introduced them and indicated to them their place in the room or at table. 44 At the end of the century, she tasted the queen’s meat and began the service of the meal when, followed by a procession of the queen’s ladies, she brought the first dish to her table. This duty fulfilled, she had the privilege of eating at her own table, placed near that of the queen. 45 In 1531 another new dignitary, the Gouvernante des filles, appeared in the hôtel of Eléonore d’Autriche. This office had previously existed at the Burgundian Court under the name of mere des filles 46 and should not be confused with that of the governess of the royal children, who was responsible for the household of the royal couple’s offspring. The Gouvernante des filles was in 39 Brantôme, Pierre de Bourdeilles, Abbé de, Recueil des Dames, poésies et tombeaux (Paris, 1991), p. 17: she had a grande écurie and a Grand Ecuyer, like the King. See also Potter, Roberts, An Englishman’s View, p. 341. 40 Boucher, Société et mentalités, p. 1344. 41 To distinguish her from the other dames d’honneur, the ladies-in-waiting are henceforth called only dames, the suffix d’honneur from now on being reserved for their chief. See Münster, ‘Funktionen der dames et demoiselles’, pp. 342-3. 42 Potter, Roberts, ‘An Englishman’s View’, p. 342. 43 BNF ms. fr. nouv. ac. 7858. 44 Brantôme, Pierre de Bourdeille, abbé de, Œuvres complètes (Paris, 1853), tome 1, p. 165. 45 Potter, Roberts, ‘An Englishman’s View’, p. 342. 46 Paviot, ‘Les Etats de France’, p. 116. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 18 charge of the young noblewomen of the queen’s retinue, the demoiselles. She had to oversee their behaviour and education. In so doing, she took upon herself a portion of the [page 19] responsibilities of the Dame d’honneur. The rise in the number of demoiselles led to the expansion of this office: from 1547 Catherine de’ Medici employed two Gouvernantes and several Sous- gouvernantes. Among the queen’s ladies was a Dame d’atours, whose responsibility was to dress her mistress. The evolution of this office is instructive, since it demonstrates the growing prestige that surrounded members of the royal family. Isabeau de Bavière and Charlotte de Savoie had several femmes and demoiselles d’atours, 47 but most of these women were not noble: their rank and wages were those of a simple chambermaid. The status of this category of women did not evolve in the fifteenth century. It was under the reign of Francis I that physical contact with the queen was given greater importance. Only one lady of high rank, or a relation of the queen, would hold this privilege from this point on. She appeared with the designation ‘Dame d’atours’ for the first time in 1534. The third remarkable change concerns the queen’s chancellery. Anne de Bretagne had just two secretaries in 1494; in 1496 their number grew to seven, and three counsellors also came to join them. In 1523, Claude de France had five secretaries, four counsellors and two controllers. Three Maîtres des requêtes are listed in the household of Eléonore d’Autriche in 1530, and secretaries are numerous (averaging five for the period between 1530 and 1546), but counsellors are absent from her household. Catherine de’ Medici had 8 counsellors in her service in 1547, but their number increased yearly, reaching 20 in 1555, the last year documented by complete états de maison. In these years a Président du Conseil made his appearance for the first time. The number of secretaries increased as well, growing in the same period from 6 to 20 and henceforth overseen by a Premier Secrétaire. The clercs d’offices appeared during these years too (3 in 1547, 6 in 1555); and in 1573 a superintendent. This elaborate structure persisted until the end of the period under scrutiny here. More than any other household service, the council established a bond between the queen and the great institutions of the kingdom. It consisted of presidents of the various Parliaments of the realm, members of the major royal councils, lawyers and judges. Provincial officers were numerous, too, but of lower rank: provosts, bailiffs, lieutenants, prosecutors and advisors from various cities and regions. When tracing the evolution of the different divisions of the queen’s household, it becomes obvious that the first and second wave of the creation of offices relates to matters of pageantry and the inner organisation of the hôtel. The third relates to the services involved in the management of the 47 Münster, ‘Funktionen der dames et demoiselles’, p. 342. Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 19 queen’s patrimony, her diplomacy and political patronage. This third step began before the personal reign of Catherine de’ Medici and continued after it; it cannot be explained by the phenomenon of regency but instead seems to be related to the evolution of the court and the status of the queen. [page 20] The ‘Great Court of Ladies’ Of all these changes, one in particular attracted the attention of contemporary observers: the emergence of noblewomen at court. In 1496, the expansion of Anne de Bretagne’s household went hand in hand with the increase in the number of ladies and maidens-in-waiting (23 in 1490; 39 in 1496-1498). The Queen insisted on their presence at court - according to Brantôme: ‘She [Anne de Bretagne] was the first to begin to gather together the great court of ladies which we still know today, because she had a very great retinue, of both ladies and maidens, and never refused any; and indeed, she asked the gentilshommes, their fathers, who were at court, if they had daughters, and if so who they were, and requested their presence.’ 48 This evolution continued under the reign of Francis I. As K. Wilson-Chevalier noted, their presence at court was used by the King to make the behaviour of noblemen more polished and introduce into court society a new civility. 49 Ladies and demoiselles were numerous in the entourage of his wife, his mother and his sister. A new peak was attained in the years 1553-1554, when Catherine de’ Medici was regent. The end of the period studied here is marked by a final spectacular increase, beginning in 1579. At the end of the reign of Henri III, 98 women served Louise de Lorraine; the queen mother, Catherine de’ Medici, had 112 suivantes. 50 The high visibility of women in the royal entourage provoked contradictory reactions. Brantôme relates a discussion with a prince (whose name he fails to give) who made the mistake of assigning to Francis I the installation of women at court: He much blamed him for two things which have brought harm to the court and the realm, under his reign and those of his successors: first, to have introduced at court large crowds, access to and the constant presence of women; and second, to have summoned, integrated and settled there such a mass of Churchmen. 51 48 ‘Ce fut la premiere qui commança à dresser la grand Court des Dames, que nous avons veu despuis elle jusques à cest heure; car elle en avoit une très-grande suitte, et de Dames et de filles, et n’en refusa jamais aulcune; tant s’en faut, qu’elle s’enquerroit des gentils-hommes leurs peres qui estoyent à la Court, s’ilz avoyent des filles, et quelles estoyent, et les leur demandoit.’ in Brantôme, Recueil des Dames, p. 13. 49 Kathleen Wilson-Chevalier, ‘Feminising the Warrior at Francis I’s Fontainebleau’, in Philip Ford, Paul White (eds), Masculinities in Sixteenth-Century France: Proceedings of the Eighth Cambridge French Renaissance Colloquium, 5-7 July 2003, (Cambridge, 2006) and online at Cour-de-France.fr: http://cour-de-france.fr/article253.html. 50 Maison de Catherine de Médici, état de 1547-1585, BNF ms. fr. 7854 (13-36) et état de 1583, BNF ms. fr. 21451 (363-368). 51 Brantôme, Œuvres complètes, tome 1, p. 257 Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 20 For others, like Blaise de Monluc, the presence of women at court allowed them to act in areas which should normally have been prohibited to them: [page 21] Misfortune has it that in France women interfere in too many matters; the king should shut the mouths of women who speak at court; from them come all the stories and malicious gossip. 52 Yet the prominence of women at court did not provoke criticism alone; certain noblemen reacted with enthusiasm, especially amongst the younger generation. Ladies quickly became the main attraction of the court because ‘discussions between men about matters of state, hunting and games rapidly become boring, but one is never bored when conversing with honest ladies’. 53 Brantôme reports that if the King left the Queen and ladies to go hunting, or for any other reason, he and his friends were so ‘upset, lost and annoyed’ that they thereafter referred to ‘the court’ not as where the King was, but where the Queen and her ladies were. His conclusion is that ‘a court without ladies is a court without a court’. 54 This enthusiasm was not without danger for those concerned: Brantôme compares ladies to fortified towns, which, quite naturally, leads him to the conclusion that it ‘is allowed to every gallant gentleman to enter there if he can.’ 55 Where this desire for conquest was put into practice, there was no major risk for a nobleman but real danger for the noble lady: a bad reputation, or even worse a pregnancy, could destroy the prospect of a suitable marriage and bring discredit on her family. The risks were thus unevenly distributed, and led to warnings such as those that Anne de France had addressed to her daughter Suzanne, in a book of advice on how to preserve oneself from such mishaps and maintain a ‘good reputation’ at the head of one’s household. The Instructions of Anne de France to Her Daughter, 56 written about 1503-5, provides numerous details about how to manage a household. Catherine de’ Médici perhaps knew this remarkable account, either personally or via Diane of Poitiers, since the manuscript was in the library of the sénéchalle in her chateau of Anet. Anne de France lists the qualities which characterise not only a good mistress but also a good lady- in-waiting, since her daughter Suzanne could have been chosen to serve a lady of higher rank. A woman at the head of a hôtel is responsible for the good behaviour of her officers, especially the ladies and demoiselles. She must closely supervise her staff and above all ensure respect for hierarchy and rank. Women must be decent in clothing and speech. They should be occupied in honest pastimes because leisure ‘leads to vice and perdition’. Women of loose morals must be 52 Quoted by Thierry Wanegffelen, Catherine de Médicis: le pouvoir au féminin (Paris, 2005), p. 37. 53 Brantôme, Oeuvres complètes, tome 1, p. 258. 54 Brantôme, Oeuvres complètes, tome 1, p. 258. 55 Brantôme, Oeuvres complètes, tome 1, p. 258. 56 Anne de France, Enseignements à sa fille, suivis de l’histoire du siège de Brest, Eliane Viennot (ed.) (Saint-Etienne, 2006). Caroline zum Kolk, The Household of the Queen of France in the Sixteenth Century Cour de France.fr Documents, études et ressources scientifiques pour la recherche sur la cour de France, de ses origines au 19 e siècle. http://cour-de-france.fr 21 dismissed; it is ‘foolish to keep such people, or liars, chatterers and quarrelers, because of the danger they represent. Often their faults are imputed to their mistress or master.’ 57 [page 22] Such warnings show how difficult it was to bring together at court men and women little accustomed to such propinquity. It is impossible to outlaw intimate relations between men and women; as E. Viennot stressed, they are tolerated in the end because they make it possible to ‘channel and socialise the sexual energy of a group which contains five to ten times more men than women’. 58 Relations may move on to a more intimate level, ‘but the rule is clear: nothing must be known, so that everyone’s honour is respected and order reigns’. *** The queens of the sixteenth century managed this sensitive situation well. Their households came to be the epicentre of social and cultural life at court. Scandals were rare; when they occurred, exemplary punishment was meted out. By the spectacular expansion in numbers, the elevation of the hierarchy and the creation of prestigious offices, the household enhanced both the dignity of the queen and the pageantry of the court. The development of separate departments to manage the queen’s patrimony, diplomacy and political patronage are an indication of the rising political status of the hôtel and its royal mistress. In the sixteenth century, it could be used as a power base and serve as a 'miniature government' in times of regency. The integration of women at court is another factor which marked the exercise of policy in the French Renaissance: the ladies-in-waiting often functioned as political actors and intermediaries. They also used their position at court for their own family patronage. The queen and her women thus formed a society inspired by the ideals of Christine de Pizan’s ‘Cité des Dames’ and her high ideas about female honour and female responsibilities. 57 Anne de France, Enseignements à sa fille, p. 7. 58 Eliane Viennot, Marguerite de Valois: histoire d’une femme, histoire d’un mythe (Paris, 1993), p. 61. 
work_w6gefjam6jhiteyypdivv45piq	----	LAL2402_01_Stern 113..150 Cardozo School of Law “Room for One More”: The Metaphorics of Physical Space in the Eighteenth-Century Copyright Debate Author(s): Simon Stern Reviewed work(s): Source: Law and Literature, Vol. 24, No. 2 (Summer 2012), pp. 113-150 Published by: University of California Press on behalf of the Cardozo School of Law Stable URL: http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/lal.2012.24.2.113 . Accessed: 09/08/2012 19:29 Your use of the JSTOR archive indicates your acceptance of the Terms & Conditions of Use, available at . http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp . JSTOR is a not-for-profit service that helps scholars, researchers, and students discover, use, and build upon a wide range of content in a trusted digital archive. We use information technology and tools to increase productivity and facilitate new forms of scholarship. For more information about JSTOR, please contact support@jstor.org. . University of California Press and Cardozo School of Law are collaborating with JSTOR to digitize, preserve and extend access to Law and Literature. http://www.jstor.org http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=ucal http://www.jstor.org/action/showPublisher?publisherCode=cardozo http://www.jstor.org/stable/10.1525/lal.2012.24.2.113?origin=JSTOR-pdf http://www.jstor.org/page/info/about/policies/terms.jsp “Room for One More”: The Metaphorics of Physical Space in the Eighteenth-Century Copyright Debate Simon Stern Abstract: This article focuses on literary texts and writings by copyright polemicists—those arguing for and against stronger copyright protection—during the eighteenth century. The metaphor of the text as a tract of land has been cited by other commentators on copyright history but has not been examined closely. Working through a series of writings on imitation and derivative use, the article shows how the metaphor seemed initially to provide an ideal basis for demanding stronger copyright protection and for policing piracy and derivative uses more aggressively, but turned out, in some writ- ers’ hands, to offer yet another means of portraying the literary marketplace as endlessly expansive. Henry Fielding, in his literary journalism, insisted that there was always “room for one more” even in a crowded marketplace, and he invoked a series of legal doctrines to defend the practice of inter- commoning and even poaching on a “neighbour” writer’s land. Far from dictating a particular view of the law, the metaphors of copyright are always capable of being revised and reinterpreted to support the writer’s own perspective. Keywords: copyright law / property / real estate / land / Alexander Pope / Samuel Richardson / William Warburton / Henry Fielding The study of bookselling is as difficult as the law, and there are as many tricks in the one as the other. —Henry Fielding1 113 Law & Literature, Vol. , Issue , pp. –. ISSN -X, electronic ISSN -. ©  by The Cardozo School of Law of Yeshiva University. All rights reserved. Please direct all requests for permission to photocopy or reproduce article content through the University of California Press’s Rights and Per- missions website, at http://www.ucpressjournals.com/reprintinfo.asp. DOI: ./lal.... Absent-minded thinkers are said to be possessed by an idea, preoccupied by their speculations, but can we reverse the terms, confining the thoughts rather than the thinker? In his dissent in Millar v. Taylor (1769), Justice Joseph Yates rejects this view: “The occupancy of a thought,” he declares, “would be a new kind of occupancy indeed.” Yates challenges the view that copyright may be seen as a form of property, insisting that no one can appro- priate “a set of ideas which have no bounds or marks whatever.”2 Others, however, have not agreed that ideas are ineligible for legal protection.3 Per- haps Alan Coren exaggerates the territorial anxiety of the professoriate in his tale of a research team so intent on protecting their Guggenheim grant that they hire a hit man to prevent a rival from discovering whether George Crabbe was “last of the Augustans or first of the Romantics,”4 but some may suspect that Coren’s error has more to do with the research budget of even the best-funded humanities projects than with the possessive impulses of their participants. David Lodge contemplates a similar effort, undertaken with all the malice of a hatchet job, when his character Morris Zapp, in Changing Places, plans an “utterly exhaustive” commentary on Austen, “examin[ing] the novels from every conceivable angle” so as to foreclose any future research: “After Zapp, the rest would be silence.”5 In these stories, academic inquiry belongs to such a limited sphere that any given question generates only one conceivable procedure and answer. Under these strait- ened circumstances, the rule of publish or perish takes on a new meaning.6 Yet many writers show no concern about preemptive effects, instead tak- ing the view that the literary marketplace can accommodate anyone who is not simply making verbatim copies of another’s work. The similarities might instead promote business all around, as Samuel Johnson recognized when he observed that two books on the same subject would “do good to one another”: “Some will buy the one, some the other, and compare them; and so a talk is made about a thing, and the books are sold.”7 No doubt Johnson’s view was informed by his exposure to a wide variety of authorial roles and practices in the course of his career as a writer, journalist, editor, and compiler.8 Though known for his pragmatism about money as an inducement to write, Johnson also defended the practice of abridgement and was on occasion a silent collaborator on others’ projects.9 Notably, despite his reputation as one of the first professional writers,10 Johnson never tried to collect his writings and to publish them as his Works—the defining act of a modern literary career, according to some historians. L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 114 The difference between “works” and “writings” roughly corresponds to the difference between a view that gives the writer sole responsibility for a unique invention and a view that places writer and text in a more interactive sphere where others are pursuing similar efforts. The term “works,” first used self-reflexively by the intensely proprietary Ben Jonson,11 appeals to a proto-Lockean notion of labor as the basis of textual identity, while also subordinating the creative process to focus attention on the final product, the granite edifice that enshrines the author’s reputation. Among eighteenth- century writers, Alexander Pope was particularly concerned about the publica- tion of his works; near the end of his life, he told his would-be biographer, “I must make a perfect edition of my works; and then shall have nothing to do but to die.”12 Those who characterize their output more modestly as “writings” emphasize neither the magnitude of their achievement nor the labo- riousness of composition, but the residue of continuous activity that inheres in the participial may make the author’s industry more salient: the term that declines to classify literary production as labor is also the one to hint that an author’s work is never done, that writing continues into the present, as if the imperfect verb has become an imperfect noun still capable of further amendment. “Writings” seem only a step above working drafts that might be rearranged or refashioned without concern for textual integrity; to call something a “work,” on the other hand, is to render it inviolable, like a private estate, and it is no coincidence that collected editions often take their series name from the author’s residence.13 This way of associating a writer’s home and collected output suggests a variant on the notion of the “literary estate.” The phrase appears to have been first used in the mid-eighteenth century, in The Adventures of Author (1767), an anonymous portrayal of the Grub Street end of the literary profession. In one of the novel’s many comic confrontations, Folio, a publisher, hurls a bundle of pamphlets into the wind and jokingly tells their author, Hyper, that they have been “published” because “now . . . they are made public enough, without the expence of advertising.” Hyper, however, misses the “bon mot,” because he is “too busy in gathering up . . . his literary estate” as he tries to retrieve the quickly disappearing pamphlets.14 As the context shows, the phrase is just one more in a series of literalistic jokes about authors and publishers, books and the marketplace. (The characterization of a deceased author’s unpublished manuscripts as “literary remains” seems to have developed around the same time.15) Similarly punning or self-conscious uses continued to appear through S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 115 the end of the century and beyond. Thus, for example, in an attack on William Mason for seeking to arrogate Gray’s poems by editing them, William Murray wrote in 1777 that Gray “made a present of his poems to the public. And not making a property of them himself, never dreamt that another person was to erect them into a literary estate, to the exclusion of his heirs.”16 In this image, the exclusive property that has been erected against the poet’s wishes is a private tract, offensively fenced off against trespassers. Similarly, a few years later Johnson and Steevens could write that Shakespeare’s contribu- tions in co-authored plays are so visible that “[i]f they are to be regarded as land-marks to ascertain our author’s property, . . . we must . . . adjudge the whole literary estate to him.”17 Not until the latter part of the nineteenth century was a writer’s “literary estate” habitually invoked, without the extended metaphors in these examples, as a formula for copyrightable mate- rial passed on to heirs.18 The equation between books and real estate, which today is barely audible in the phrase, seems to have figured prominently in its origins. Others have discussed the metaphorics of real estate in copyright law,19 but two important points have been overlooked in these accounts. First, although the characterization of a text as an estate has old roots, its frequent and emphatic invocation in the eighteenth century was not an inevitable result of the greater attention focused on rights in texts prompted by the Statute of Anne (1710).20 While perhaps appearing to function as an uncon- troversial description, the real-estate metaphor offered the booksellers a means of actively facilitating the view of copyright that met their needs— the view that printing rights should be regarded as a form of property.21 This view could plausibly be derived from the Statute of Anne, but was not read- ily apparent from a reading of the statute.22 The booksellers had good rea- sons for trying to define the debate over copyright protection in terms that would promote their characterization of the literary marketplace as a limited space, so that they might define the frame in which disputes over copying and imitation would be understood. Second, although the booksellers were largely successful in suggesting that real estate provided a natural analogy for literary ownership, some writers resisted the implication that the literary universe can accommodate only a certain amount of overlap or competition. This contrarian version of the metaphor was by no means the one that pre- vailed rhetorically, but its use helps to show that even the logic seemingly implicit in the trope did not provide the only way to make sense of it. L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 116 The metaphorical association between literary and landed property was already well-established in English legal idiom, which had used the term “estate” since the early seventeenth century in contractual transfers between members of the Stationers’ Company, the London guild of printers and booksellers.23 By the 1660s, the association had become so familiar that one stationer could seek to nullify the royal patent for law books (one of the prime holdings of the Stationers’ Company) by revising the conventional image of the proprietary bookseller, arguing that guild members had no spe- cial claim to these books because “the Author of every Manuscript or Copy hath . . . as good right thereunto, as any Man hath to the Estate wherein he has the most absolute property.” The monopoly, it was asserted, abridged the rights of both authors and the poorer booksellers, and served to “Disseise them of their Freehold.”24 As that example suggests, the vocabulary of real estate came fully stocked with a supply of legal terms and concepts waiting to be exploited; by the eighteenth century, the language of the “estate” and its attendant paraphernalia seemed ripe with promise as a means of elaborating the logic of copyright. These metaphorical possibilities were eagerly developed by the copy-owning booksellers and reinterpreted by their detractors. Although the world of publishing offers relatively few instances of “mar- ket substitutes,”25 the fear of being crowded out has pervaded the debate over literary property since the early eighteenth century, and it provides a way to make sense of the metaphorics of physical space that still abounds in current discussions.26 Jessica Litman writes that “[t]he model for [copy- right] is real property. We cast the author’s rights in the mold of exclusive rights of control. Invasion of these rights is actionable on a strict liability basis, akin to the traditional formulation of trespass to land.”27 Similarly, Mark Lemley has observed that “the rhetoric and economic theory of real property are increasingly dominating the discourse and conclusions of the very different world of intellectual property.”28 In what follows, I explore some of the uses and implications of the spatial metaphor in England after the adoption of the Statute of Anne, which provoked a wide array of conjec- tures, both serious and ironic, about the nature of copyright infringement and the identity of the text. The measure might be called the “copyright reduction act,” given that its most controversial clause imposed a twenty- eight-year maximum on a safeguard that had been taken to last in perpetuity under the rules of the Stationers’ Company. The Statute of Anne is notable S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 117 not because it created a right to prohibit others from printing without autho- rization, but because it associates the right with the author rather than con- fining it to the guild, and this gesture is crucial to the double movement by which the act fostered general awareness of the doctrine while abridging its duration.29 This pattern provides a means of reconsidering the history of copyright by reassessing one of its central actors—the proprietary author, who has been cast in variously heroical, tragical, and farcical roles ever since the copyright debate began. Scholarship in this area, tracking the emergence of copyright law and the shift in literary theory that culminated in the Romantic celebra- tion of the unique personality, has argued that textual property and original authorship come into visibility as mutually constitutive terms; as Mark Rose puts it, “The distinguishing mark of the modern author . . . is proprietorship; the author is conceived as the originator and therefore the owner of a special kind of commodity, the work.”30 However, in emphasizing the rise of the solitary, creative genius, critical histories of authorship have tended to bracket competing accounts of the author’s identity and provenance; accord- ingly, critics have dwelt on those who anticipate the modern proprietary syn- drome, while passing over the indifference, ambivalence, and even hostility that other writers displayed toward the protective logic of copyright.31 The image of the text as a limited terrain was invoked repeatedly in the course of the copyright debate and remains fundamental to our understanding of copyright—but far from providing a neutral means of adjudicating conflicts over access and restriction, this figuration discounts in advance the very pos- sibility of unhampered access to a domain whose exclusive status associates it with privacy and privation. I . T H E D U A L E C O N O M I E S O F C O P Y R I G H T The real-estate trope is often aligned with an economy of scarcity, a view of literary production and commerce grounded in the logic of an inelastic mar- ketplace.32 Such constraints figure most saliently in arguments against piracy, arguments premised on the assumption that “the sale of a book is . . . con- fined to a certain number,” so that illicit reprinters are said to resemble squat- ters: “If a man be not turned out of his house, it may be said, he is not put out of possession; but, if twenty or thirty people are allowed to enter it, and L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 118 take up free quarters with his family, he might as well, and sometimes better, be fairly kicked out of doors.”33 As the scope of copyright protection has expanded, these anxieties about cramped space have been applied not only to the verbatim reproduction of texts but to the whole spectrum of imitative writing, from unauthorized sequels to shared plot devices.34 On this view, writers are trapped in a zero-sum economy in which an increased demand for one title translates into a corresponding decline for its competitors, however they are defined. This is the economic logic underlying the language of “literary theft” and “plagiarism” (from plagiarius, “kidnapper, slave-stealer”). These terms, often applied to various forms of imitation other than verbatim reproduction, treat copying as a form of seizure, an abduction of the author’s brainchild.35 Talk of misappropriation and pilfering suggests that texts are diminished through copying, as if the novelist who “borrows” a plot has removed something from the book, leaving it incomplete. To the opponents of perpetual copyright, the metaphor of literary “theft” was worthy only of scorn; these commentators joked about invading “lettered Property” by “stealing [an] Old Woman’s Gingerbread Letters,” and wondered whether readers might be restrained from “conveying” the doctrine of a book to those who had not purchased it.36 In both cases, immaterial goods are sardonically imagined as having a physical form that would make them capable of exclu- sive possession. Although the gingerbread joke trivializes the issue, the pun on conveyance as description and expropriation usefully captures one of the paradoxes of copyright, allowing the press of ideas to carry a force that is at once physical and mental. Posed against this economy of scarcity is one of abundance, in which plots, characters, and techniques circulate freely without any threat of deple- tion. This view of the literary economy may be discerned in the etymology of “copy,” from copia, “transcript, duplicate” (an extension of the word’s root sense, “copiousness, plenty”); analogously, “author” derives from augere, “augment, increase.” Here the author is a principle of multiplication, not merely recycling the resources in the literary commons but expanding their range, so that each use enlarges the stock of the trade. Prevalent in Renaissance theories of authorship as amplification, and invention through imitation,37 the economy of abundance accords with an emphasis on the text’s immateriality. To disregard the text’s material dimensions is to ignore its only means of depletion, so that any future use becomes a form of increase. This notion, the source of much resistance to copyright in the eighteenth century, S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 119 has been translated into the doctrines of “fair use” and the “public domain,” but in neither instance has the idea of abundance survived. Fair uses are “fair,” in large part, because even in what is assumed to be a zero-sum economy, they pose no threat to any potential market for the source text. The public domain consists of material that is not eligible (or is no longer eligible) for copyright protection, so that even under conditions of scarcity, an author may not legitimately monopolize that material. The law of real property offers a parallel in the form of the commons, a shared space whose potential remains theoretically unlimited—though, as we will see, advocates of strong copyright protection in the eighteenth century were ready to predict its demise in the absence of stricter control over subsistence farming. These two alternative economic models correlate with the two views of “originality” in copyright law. On the one hand, the literary economy may be seen as a world of endlessly recyclable material, forever mutating into new variants “original” enough to distinguish them from their precur- sors. In that framework, “originality” inheres in every composition other than a direct copy; rather than providing a means of distinguishing among texts to justify protection for a particular subset, it appears coextensive with the very act of writing.38 Conversely, advocates of expansive copyright protection—usually writers determined to cleanse the bookstores of “market substitutes”—use a much stronger notion of “originality” to stand in for their economic concerns. These writers, who consider their own publications to display a high degree of novelty, seek to police the efforts of others who would exploit these innovations. In light of that contrast, “originality” sim- ply devolves into a pair of antithetical views on how writing takes place and how it circulates—and those views help to inform the high- and low- protectionist positions in copyright law.39 The contrast between these two positions and the economic beliefs that underwrite each one would be rehearsed repeatedly as the copyright debate wore on and the opposing sides attempted to specify—or dismantle—the text’s basic components. The dispute over the metaphysics of literary prop- erty can hardly be explained by reference to the language of the 1710 act itself, which says nothing about plagiarism and very little about property, instead focusing on the printing of “Books and other Writings, without the Consent of [their] Authors or Proprietors.”40 This formulation ranks authors and proprietors equally, but the act was passed at the behest of the L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 120 latter, the London booksellers who controlled the publishing industry. They acquired manuscripts according to the same principles that govern the mod- ern “work for hire” doctrine, generally refusing to publish any book unless they could purchase the “copy” outright, without any offer of royalties. Before the Statute of Anne, the booksellers had limited the registration priv- ilege to company members, effectually preventing most authors from owning copies in the first place. That system ended in 1695, when Parliament allowed the Licensing Act to lapse, destroying the printing monopoly. The result was that book piracy, formerly practiced surreptitiously by a few dar- ing printers, rose dramatically.41 In the following years, the booksellers repeatedly petitioned for a return to registration, belatedly switching tactics after a series of failures. Initially, they emphasized the rising tide of seditious pamphlets, making dire but inef- fectual predictions about the future of unlicensed printing.42 Then, in his 1704 Essay on the Regulation of the Press, Defoe proposed a return to the for- malities of licensing and suggested that books should be required to carry the author’s name—a policy, he noted, that would also discourage piracy. He added that if writers were liable for sedition, then conversely their property in nonseditious works should be secured by law: “[I]f an Author has not the right of a Book, after he has made it, and the benefit be not his own, and the Law will not protect him in that Benefit, ’twould be very hard the Law should pretend to punish him for it.”43 The booksellers, who had already shown some awareness of the author’s utility in promoting their own ends,44 quickly took up this argument, rehearsing it in their next campaign to rein- state their lost powers, in 1707. That attempt failed, but a similar petition suc- ceeded in 1709, producing the Statute of Anne and incidentally turning Defoe into one of the unacknowledged legislators of his day.45 In one of the many ironic cruxes punctuating the history of copyright, the booksellers appropriated Defoe’s argument for authorial rights as a means of securing lit- erary property for themselves, raiding his Essay for the terms that would, they insisted, help to protect writers against unscrupulous marauders. Although the booksellers were initially the primary beneficiaries of the statute, as they had expected, its limited term of copyright protection sug- gests that other concerns—involving the rights of authors and the reading public—were also at stake in the legislation. Books that had already been published were to receive twenty-one years of copyright protection. For new books, the statute provided that after fourteen years, “the sole Right S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 121 of printing or disposing of Copies shall return to the Authors . . . if they are then living, for another Term of fourteen Years.”46 The two-term arrange- ment relies on but significantly revises the patent regulations, which pro- vided for a single fourteen-year term.47 The booksellers, opposed to such a fundamental reduction of their power, petitioned against the term limit as the bill was working its way through Parliament, and later, when confronted with this problem in court, they glossed over the fifteen lawless years preced- ing the Act and explained that the drafters had never intended to undermine the copies’ durability, but had only meant to impose stricter penalties for piracy within the specified time frames. The proprietary author was invoked repeatedly by both the proponents and critics of copyright as the debate picked up steam, but this elusive figure was rarely to be seen in the literary marketplace. I I . T H E T R A G E DY O F T H E C O M M O N S It was the booksellers’ demand for perpetual protection, the effort to preserve the text as securely as a tract of land, that ignited the pamphlet debate, which lasted from the mid-1730s until 1774, when the House of Lords finally upheld the statutory limit in Donaldson v. Becket, condemning the booksellers’ efforts at “monopoly.” Known as “the battle of the booksellers,”48 the conflict pit- ted the leading members of the London publishing industry against their rivals in Glasgow and Edinburgh, where the Statute of Anne did not apply. The debate also included the less established English booksellers, whose inability to invest in copies excluded them from the most profitable activities in the trade. The conflict turned not over the provisions of the Statute of Anne but over the wealthier booksellers’ efforts to maximize its protections by widening its scope beyond a prohibition on piracy and extending its dura- tion beyond twenty-eight years. As to the scope of copyright protection, the courts generally construed the statute narrowly.49 In 1761, for example, the Lord Chancellor refused to sanction a magazine editor for reprinting the text of Johnson’s Rasselas ver- batim, except for the author’s “moral reflections.”50 A satire on the contem- porary literary scene, published a few years later, urbanely defends writers against the charge of theft by insisting that most of them “never stole any thing except lines and sentences, which by the bye is not made penal as L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 122 yet by any statute.”51 Although the publishers had little success in claiming a broader scope of protection than the literal terms of the statute afforded, this did not spare them from their critics’ mockery; for example, a gastronomi- cally inclined writer objected to their claim to a sole “licence to utter, vend, print, pirate, abridge, hash, fritter, part or parcel.”52 As with the line about the legality of stealing, the joke’s most obvious implication is that copyright had not even begun to limit writers’ access to plots, themes, and ideas; the subtler implication, however, is that the law actually encouraged such partial takings by protecting any text so long as it could be distinguished from its neighbors.53 By limiting its attention to piracy, the Statute of Anne promoted a literary culture fueled in part by imitative writing. The term of copyright protection was a more contentious matter, and pro- vided the main ground on which the battle of the booksellers was fought. The controversy began in earnest only in the mid-1730s. The booksellers who petitioned for copyright legislation had spoken of their common-law rights, but those suggestions were not incorporated into the statute,54 and during the first two decades following its passage, while all books received blanket protection, the booksellers had no need to spell out a comprehensive theory of copyright. In 1731, the protection afforded to “old” books was due to expire. The booksellers, however, continued to operate as if their rights were still in force, preferring to remain quiet until forced to act.55 A seem- ingly propitious occasion arose in 1735, when Parliament was considering a bill that would offer copyright protection for engravings. Proposed and supported by the artists themselves as a means of deterring unscrupulous printmakers, the Engraving Copyright Act passed into law without much debate: the artists issued one pamphlet on their own behalf, and their opponents issued none. By contrast, the booksellers’ attempt to secure another extension of copyright generated a small flurry of pamphlets, opening with an attack on the bill that ultimately provoked three or four rebuttals. In an unsuccessful attempt to align their cause with the engravers’, the booksellers again presented themselves as guardians of authors’ rights, but apparently sensing that the mere assertion was insufficient, they also began to cite Lockean property theory and the language of natural rights in their pamphlets. Although the legislation failed, the booksellers’ tactics set the terms for the future of the debate; as John Feather observes, “After 1735, it was never again entirely possible to exclude some consideration of the rights of authors when copyright law was under discussion.”56 S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 123 This period, then, witnessed an acceleration of the copyright debate and an increasing reliance on the metaphorics of real estate. Cited by the book- sellers throughout the 1735 altercation, the imagery of estates, fields, trees, and plants burgeoned in the growing mass of treatises and legal decisions, reaching its height in 1774, when the House of Lords finally ruled against perpetual copyright. Before 1710, the metaphor had remained compatible with a vision of abundance, an emphasis on the rich profusion of the author’s mind. After the Statute of Anne, the idea of a physically limited space pro- vided one of the essential grounds for pursuing the real-estate metaphor. For an example of land that produces abundance, we need look no further than a 1706 letter in which Alexander Pope invokes the language of engraft- ment as he considers the protocols of authorial imitation. Consulting the poet William Walsh on the permissibility of borrowing, Pope offers his own justifi- cation in a passage that anticipates his couplet in the “Essay on Criticism” about common knowledge transposed into the elegant cadences of the consummate stylist (“True Wit is Nature to Advantage drest, / What oft was Thought, but ne’er so well Exprest”).57 In the letter to Walsh, Pope writes, I wou’d beg your opinion . . . how far the liberty of Borrowing may extend? I have defended it sometimes by saying that it seems not so much the Perfec- tion of Sense, to say things that have never been said before, as to express those best that have been said oftenest, and that Writers in the case of borrowing from others, are like Trees which of themselves wou’d produce only one sort of Fruit, but by being grafted upon others, may yield variety. A mutual com- merce makes Poetry flourish: but then Poets like Merchants, shou’d repay with something of their own what they take from others: not like Pyrates make prize of all they meet.58 Pope draws on an economy of abundance, emblematized here by a literary orchard whose variety guarantees that authors will always have more fruit to pluck, more produce to cultivate, so long as they continue to intermix their stock. Pope formulates his analogy in explicitly financial terms. He allows himself to conceive of a landscape devastated by “Pyrates,” whose ravages would ruin the victims and destroy the orchard according to the metaphor of “theft.” Yet Pope prefers to dwell on the growth economy fueled by tradesmen-poets whose “mutual commerce” not only recirculates but multi- plies their resources. Later Pope would ironically salute the inflationary L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 124 effects of “paper-credit,” with its hallucinatory ability to translate dearth into excess,59 but in this mercantilist allegory he describes an admirable luxuriance born of intermixture, a profusion that grows by leaps and yet stays within rea- sonable bounds. Far from insisting that piratical impoverishment is inevitable, Pope suggests that poets might simply choose otherwise, might opt for rec- ompense instead of theft. The vocabulary of mutual exchange and repayment, of course, can hardly betoken a process of direct, one-to-one reciprocation between individual writers; rather, Pope seems to imagine a common literary fund open to all applicants on the condition that they respond in turn with their own contributions. In a frequently cited Tatler essay, written in 1709 to elicit support for the upcoming legislation, Addison uses a similar image, describing the produc- tivity of an “ingenious Drole” whose “Brain, which was his Estate, had as regular and different Produce as other Men’s Land.”60 For Addison, this vision of nature’s bounty is a thing of the past: the drole had an estate in his brain, but paradoxically there was no need to characterize it as exclusive property in those days, because everyone respected his right to claim it as his own. The lapse of the Licensing Act in 1695 seems to be the key event: “Before men had come up to this bare-faced impudence [of open piracy], it was an Estate to have a Competency of Understanding.”61 Addison’s vision differs from Pope’s in focusing on a single writer’s productive poten- tial, rather than imagining a literary field in which writers practice a kind of collaborative crop rotation that replenishes the commons. Perhaps that focus makes it easier for Addison to move from nostalgia for the days when prop- erty rights were tacitly respected, to an endorsement of an explicit property regime. Because of the pirates’ ravages, Addison contends that the produce should be protected as property: as he puts it, the inventive figure who is capable of such “good Husbandry” should have some “Property in what he is willing to produce.”62 Endorsing the new legislation, Addison presents an ambiguous view of the economy of abundance, treating it as if it were already susceptible to “no trespassing” signs, even though it has the virtue of not requiring such signs. Perhaps the pirates in this description are the same ones Pope had preferred to ignore, but for Addison, it seems that literary abundance is best understood in terms of individual produce, not as part of a growth economy that writers can share in. Writers are entitled to the produce of their own estates, and whether they participate in a wider, mutual commerce involving other writers is left unexplored, perhaps because S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 125 that subject would raise uncomfortable questions about the legitimacy of the writer’s claim to sole responsibility for the goods he calls his own. If Addison wavers uneasily between two views of literary production, describing an endlessly generative mind whose capacity is sapped because of the limited market for its produce, he points toward a view of scarcity that would become much more prevalent in the pamphlet debate. When the booksellers sought, in 1735, to extend the term of copyright for another seven years,63 they met with an angry response in a broadside titled A Letter to a Member of Parliament, Concerning the Bill Now Depending in the House of Commons, the only attack on the booksellers’ position to appear during this first effort to amend the copyright statute.64 The broadside begins by predict- ing that the proposed legislation “will greatly cramp” the diffusion of knowl- edge and will “notoriously invade the natural Rights of Mankind.” If the Statute of Anne guards authors’ rights within acceptable bounds, the book- sellers’ bill would go too far, “establishing a perpetual Monopoly.”65 After the expiry of the twenty-eight year term of protection, books may be sold for less, “render[ing] the Knowledge contained in them more diffusive”; if the term is extended, books “will be sold at higher Prices, and consequently be confined to a small Number.”66 In short, the extension of copyright would erode the commons, turning the statute’s temporary prohibition on unautho- rized reprinting into a permanent right that would “invade” others’ rights. This account draws on a metaphorics of physical space, but only hints at the real-estate analogy, which was much more prominent in the booksellers’ responses. The booksellers invoked the language of real estate to argue that writers are entitled to a proprietary claim even stronger than the right by occupation that Locke had defended. The first of the booksellers’ many articulations of this view appears in a pamphlet fashioning itself as a defense of authors’ rights, titled A Letter from an Author to a Member of Parliament, Occasioned by a Late Letter Concerning the Bill Now Depending in the House of Commons (1735).67 The pamphlet asserts that an author “may be said to create, rather than to discover or plant his Land; and it cannot be said, that an Author’s Work was ever common, as the Earth originally was.”68 Though ostensibly marshaled to justify the extension of copyright for another seven years, this argument sounds more like a call for perpetual protection, and during the next forty years the same view would be rehearsed repeatedly for exactly that purpose.69 Of course, the difference between creation and mere possession L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 126 also distinguishes authors from booksellers, nullifying the argument from creation ex nihilo by reminding us that although inventions can be assigned to others, the inventor’s status itself cannot. Extending the metaphor, the booksellers also denied that a prohibition against piracy could fuel a full-scale enclosure movement: The Field of Knowledge is large enough for all the World to find Ground in it to plant and improve. Let every Body do it; let them be encouraged and protected in so doing; let them write and print on the same Subject: But let them not lazily borrow that individual Work, which is the Produce of anoth- er’s Labours.70 In the infinitely abundant and expansible “Field of Knowledge,” the book- sellers strive to disavow some of the spatial implications of the agricultural metaphor; as their bill worked its way through Parliament, the booksellers published several more pamphlets, repeating arguments and even whole paragraphs from each other, but this vision of a boundless field appears only once.71 Yet despite this emphasis on the inexhaustible abundance of the liter- ary economy, the Letter from an Author undermines its own argument, invok- ing the technicalities of land law to argue that copyright “is a Monopoly in no other sense, than any Man’s Estate is so. . . . If a Cottager, who has a Right of Common in the Waste of a Manor, should offer to build or plant upon it, those Improvements would belong to the Lord of the Manor.”72 The metaphor now drives the argument rather than illustrating it: logically, the “improvements” must refer to literary refurbishments such as sequels and abridgments—permissible forms of recycling whose legality had never been questioned. Anticipating the modern doctrine of fair use, this account treats a publication that “build[s] . . . upon” the source text as an illegitimate effort to occupy the same ground, depriving the “Lord of the Manor” of what is rightly his. At a time when piracy was the only actionable form of infringe- ment, this analogy offers to expand the law’s scope in precisely the way that the booksellers’ opponents feared. Erasing the difference between the land- lord’s property and the commoner’s improvements, between the source text and any contiguous projects in the field of knowledge, the Letter proposes to import the doctrine of landlords’ rights into the realm of copyright, reintro- ducing the threat of enclosure and legally induced scarcity that the earlier passage had sought to dispatch. S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 127 Having contemplated the expansion first of the literary terrain and then of the proprietary claim, the Letter from an Author goes on to reaffirm the inflexibility of the literary marketplace. The prospect of limited-term copyright evokes the specter of a landscape ravaged by freeloaders: “The laying of all Copies open, is such an Expedient to make Books cheap, as the allowing of Cattle to be fed upon every Body’s Land, would be to make Cattle so.”73 The commons, plentiful though it may appear, has a finite amount of space with little room for latecomers. This vision of a desolate territory that will finally afford no occupancy at all reap- pears in another of the booksellers’ pamphlets from the same period, which insists that limiting the term of copyright protection is certain to “make the Purchase of [authors’] Copies sink, like the Value of Estates that have a Flaw in their Title.”74 It seems that perpetual protection is the only acceptable solution, because even the prospect of common liter- ary property, twenty-eight years in the future, threatens to depopulate the marketplace now. Likewise, in the booksellers’ hands, the analogy between books and livestock proceeds by reducing the term of copyright to zero, as if any temporal limit at all constitutes an immediate threat, “the laying of all Copies open.” The world described by the booksellers is one driven by scarcity, in which the commons cannot help to create a sustainable publishing marketplace, but instead will ensure that all writers are ultimately driven out of the market.75 Over the next forty years, commentators on literary property continued to grapple with the problem of materiality. Booksellers intent on observing the letter of the law could dwell on the boundaries of the statute and the market- place, and hence Robert Baldwin, in an advertisement from the early 1750s, announces his intention to reprint several out-of-copyright books, explaining that “as I take the Materials that other Persons have purchased, I can build much cheaper than those who have built and paid great Prices for them; it being well known that most of the present Proprietors of old Copies, have bought them as dear as Freehold Land.”76 Baldwin’s reminder about the ben- efits of recycling may evoke the plenitude of the abundant economy, but at the same time, his vision of a lumber-gathering expedition on someone else’s freehold occupies a metaphorical register bordering on the dire idiom that Kenrick uses to describe the unfortunate copyholder who finds dozens of unwanted guests in his house and wishes that he had simply been “fairly kicked out of doors.”77 L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 128 At the same time, critics of perpetuity persisted in detailing the impover- ishing effects of enclosure, alleging that the copy-owning booksellers “grudged to others the Gleanings of a Harvest by which they had been enriched,”78 and mocking the real-estate trope through a satirically literal application of its premise, by which the 1710 act becomes “An Act for the Encouragement of PLANTING, by vesting THE SHOOTS OF HEDGES and BRANCHES OF TREES, IN THE PLANTERS, during the Times therein mentioned.”79 In reducing the literary text to purely material form, this latter summation underlines the creeping threat of privatization; by returning to the original ground of Lock- ean appropriation—here portrayed as a field dense with privately owned trees and undergrowth—the parody creates an agricultural equivalent for the overweening claims by which the booksellers would translate the stat- ute’s limited protection into a perpetual right. As the dispute continued, the opposition to perpetuity intensified into an opposition to copyright altogether. In the early 1760s, for example, one pamphleteer insisted that English law recognized only those forms of incorpo- real property that could be derived from a material base; thus “Estovers, Advowsons, and Rights of Common” require woods, churches, and manors— and so property in texts, “if it exists at all, must necessarily partake of the Nature and Qualities of a corporeal Property! A strange Phænomenon!” The commentator then turns bard as he finds himself “forced to exercise a Poetical Faculty in giving Limbs and Features to this airy Phantom.”80 The mock surprise underwrites a hostility toward the very concept of literary property, here dismissed as entirely oxymoronic in an idiom only slightly more facetious than the tone Justice Yates would adopt seven years later. Where the 1735 Letter to a Member of Parliament remained content to attack the doctrine of perpetuity while endorsing a limited term of protection, the later phase of the debate marks an increasing insistence on two radically opposed extremes—an utterly enclosed market or an utterly unregulated one—as if the only antidote to the economy of scarcity were one of pure abundance. Just as the dispute over the term limit yields alternative argu- ments either for perpetual protection or for none at all, the argument about the literary economy morphs into similarly extreme positions. Further, whereas the booksellers’ debate opened by focusing on the eco- nomic conflict among members of the trade, later commentators would begin to emphasize the roles of the author and reader. Extending the logic of his attack on the curiously hybrid nature of literary property, the essayist who S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 129 marveled at this “strange phænomenon” went on to describe its singularly brief half-life. The establishment of property in writing, he suggested, would underwrite a raid on manuscripts in general: “Creditors would ravish from Dramatic Writers their half-formed Tragedies, from Clergymen their pious Discourses, the Spiritual Food of their respective Flocks.”81 Indigent writers and their hungry audience find their provisions drastically reduced in this account, as if the very recognition of this new form of property, even in its nascent state, would bring about a major shift in the allocation of literary resources. Far from establishing authors as proprietors, the new doctrine serves in effect to impoverish them. Later critics would probe the boundaries of copyright to suggest that its prohibitions would impose constraints on readers as well—Yates, for example, would ask whether all forms of tran- scription were illegal, and Lord Camden, in 1774, would suggest that loaning books might be proscribed.82 The “new kind of occupancy” in ideas seemed to have no logical limit, extending its reach into every avenue of the literary marketplace and beyond. Like the pun about the “conveyance” of a thought, the embargo on loaning books confines the reader even as it confines the content of the book. The booksellers, of course, never sought to justify such radical incur- sions in the name of the proprietary author, and among writers themselves, even the more limited forms of proprietorship met with considerable resis- tance. Before addressing that critique, however, I would like to consider a pair of writers who enthusiastically embraced the new doctrine in a fashion that responds to the question of the reader’s place, imagining a kind of liter- ary occupation in which the author is endowed with seemingly unlimited potential. I I I . M A R G I N A L O C C U PAT I O N S During the same period in which the booksellers’ pamphlet wars were heating up, William Warburton and Samuel Richardson took up the question of copy- right protection, advancing its implications far beyond the limits that the book- sellers were claiming. Warburton, Pope’s literary executor, seems to have been the first figure outside of the bookselling industry to defend the doctrine of perpetual copyright when he published A Letter from an Author . . . Concerning Literary Property in 1747.83 There he follows the Lockean argument based L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 130 on the author’s labor. By contrast, when he came to publish his edition of Pope’s posthumous Works in 1751, Warburton took a more aggressive stance, combining the roles of editor and predator in a prefatory warning to the poet’s enemies: “Together with his Works, he hath bequeathed me his DUNCES. So that as the property is transferred, I could wish they would now let his memory alone.”84 Pope’s entire Grub Street demonology, it seems, is part and parcel of his literary estate, implanted in the grounds that made Warburton “one of the richest landlords of literary property in the century.”85 Fettered to the lines of the Dunciad, entailed in the copyright, the dunces find their own freedom constrained by this literary executor-cum-executioner. Equally remarkable is Richardson’s outraged response to the booksellers who brought out an unauthorized sequel to Pamela in 1741. At a time when expansions of others’ stories were commonplace, Richardson saw this “spu- rious Continuation” as an infringement of “his Right to his own Plan” and advertised that he was “actually continuing the Work himself, from Materi- als, that, perhaps, but for such a notorious Invasion of his Plan, he should not have published.”86 Richardson treats the novel’s underlying conception as a material quantity, capable of dissipation and recovery. The intensification of the copyright debate at mid-century seems to have provided the conceptual background for Richardson’s high-handed view of authorial rights, scarcely even intelligible within the terms of contemporary law. To be sure, Warburton and Richardson both represent extreme instances—Warburton’s massive inher- itance derives from Pope’s own proprietary zeal, unmatched in his day, whereas Richardson, a printer by trade, was unusually sensitive to criticism and to the economics of the publishing marketplace. Yet however exceptional their claims, these writers dramatize a familiar problem in copyright doctrine, a problem implicit in the dispute over how to define infringement but explicit in much of the eighteenth-century debate: they show how the expansion of authors’ rights may threaten to diminish the reader’s rights. That conflict would resurface when Richardson’s third novel, The History of Sir Charles Grandison (1753), was reprinted without authorization in Dublin, outside the geographical bounds of the English copyright statute. Styling himself “the Editor and Sole Proprietor of this new Work (New in every sense of the Word),” Richardson decries “the INVASION of his PROPERTY” and gives equal weight to every component of the book: “[N]ever was Work more the Property of any Man, than this is his. The Copy never was in any S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 131 other Hand: He borrows not from any Author: The Paper, the Printing, entirely at his own Expence.”87 The equation of plot and paper flies in the face of the emerging copyright doctrine, which distinguished the book’s material and ideational aspects in order to reserve the latter to the author;88 Richardson, almost certainly aware of this development, stresses the enormity of the theft by aligning the intellectual and material property as if both parts were equally depletable—as if meddling with the plot of his new work involved the same kind of theft as piracy. Seeking to discredit the Dublin booksellers for their “Attempt to possess themselves of [the author’s] whole Property,”89 Richardson stresses the indivisible nature of the property in question and, in consequence, suggests once again that the author comes to own the work at the reader’s expense. His power struggle finds its fullest exemplification in Clarissa (1747–48), whose margins he peppered with point- ing hands and a mass of ever-accumulating footnotes that wrest interpretive control away from the reader, hammering home the author’s own perspec- tive. That Lovelace annotates Clarissa’s letters in precisely the same manner helps to display the power of the editorial hand, and to suggest that the fiction of editorship actually strengthens Richardson’s control in a way that mere authorship could not. Casting himself as the text’s first and most privileged reader, Richardson occupies the space between producer and consumer— he preoccupies the text in order to manage its reception. Warburton, too, exploited the editorial apparatus of ownership, ushering the reader through Pope’s Works with rows upon rows of footnotes that often occupy more space than the poems themselves. Nor does the editor limit himself to playing chaperone in the lower margin; in the frontispiece, his own profile basks in the light of center stage, displacing Pope’s into the chiaroscuro above. In his expansive editorial role, Warburton restages the dilemma posed a decade earlier in Pope’s most famous legal victory, which established the principle that letters qualify for protection as manu- script property—a ruling that begins, at the same time, to complicate the relationship between writer and reader. In Pope v. Curll (1741), Lord Hard- wicke ruled that the recipient of a letter is not free to publish it without the author’s consent, because the recipient can claim only “the property of the paper” and therefore has “at most . . . a joint property with the writer.”90 Hardwicke, then, at least provisionally entertains the possibility that readers may come to own a share in the material they read. As if to emphasize the limited space in which such a principle might operate, Warburton covers L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 132 Pope’s Works with his own copious editorial hand, forestalling any claims on reader’s part. Even more elaborately than Richardson, the editor fills up the margins, arrogating the text to himself according to the principle of first occupancy. Warburton’s apprehensive strategy takes on a somewhat different cast in the hands of William Blackstone, who would reaffirm this sense of competi- tion over the text’s limited terrain when he represented one of London’s leading booksellers in Tonson v. Collins (1762).91 Seeking to defend Jacob Tonson’s claim to perpetual copyright in the Spectator, whose statutory term of protection had expired,92 Blackstone frames his argument as if he were speaking for Addison, here cast as an exasperated landlord coping with pre- sumptuous visitors. In relying on the claim of the author as creator, rather than the bookseller’s right by purchase, Blackstone exposes the tortuous logic implicit in such reasoning. Although he observes Hardwicke’s distinction between the text’s material and immaterial components, Blackstone imagines a much more direct confrontation between author and reader, and seems to award the author some part of the material property as well. Criticizing the argument by Joseph Yates, as opposing counsel, that publication destroys any private property interest, Blackstone explains, He [i.e., Yates] says, a book, when published, is a gift to the public, like land thrown into a highway. It may be so, where the author conceals himself, and gives no indicia to distinguish his property. The title, the utterance, the vend- ing, are sufficient indicia here. In such a case, it is more like making a way through a man’s own private grounds, which he may stop at pleasure; he may give out a number of keys, by publishing a number of copies; but no man, who receives a key, has thereby a right to forge others, and sell them to other people.93 Taken at face value, Blackstone’s analogy credits the writer with more con- trol than even the Romantic theory of authorial genius would allow. By “publishing a number of copies,” the author gives out so many “keys” to his “own private grounds”; the act of reading is thus likened to “making a way through [the author’s] grounds,” so that piracy becomes an invasion of privacy, a means of trespassing into the author’s sanctum. Yet in this liti- gation it is Tonson, not Addison, who claims the exclusive right to give out the keys by multiplying copies of the Spectator; by conflating the roles of S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 133 author and publisher, Blackstone suggests that even after publication, the text remains a private estate from which the author might eject visitors “at plea- sure.” The logic by which Blackstone strives to delineate a legal right of property that survives publication—and that serves the author’s interest rather than the bookseller’s—leads ultimately to a vision of absolute inter- pretive dominion, as if the disgruntled author might simply confiscate his book from those who will not abide by his demands. In the event, the court exercised its own power to terminate lawsuits “at pleasure.” The legal action was dismissed as “collusive” when it emerged that Tonson, eager to try a test case, had promised to indemnify Benjamin Collins against any liability imposed by the court’s decision. Because the two parties had arranged the case in such a way as to escape the zero-sum logic that typically underwrites such actions, their agreement was understood as a form of collaboration—what one commentator called “a sort of amicable suit”94—whose geniality removed them from the law’s conceptual frame- work and hence from its purview. Just as Addison’s praise for the “ingenious drole” and his abundant intellect cannot be accommodated in this argument, so that the essayist must instead be represented as a protective landlord, sim- ilarly the courts define their field of operation in terms of scarcity and com- petition, expelling those who do not conform to the adversarial premise. The practical effect of the typical copyright transaction at this time was to give authors a very limited tenure in their own writings, but the emerging justi- fications for copyright also allowed for an imaginary version of literary own- ership in which authors—or editors—could inhabit the text so completely as to leave little room for any independent claim to occupy its imaginative space. As we have already seen from Pope’s example, however, the metaphor of physical space need not move from fixed bounds to competition over lim- ited resources, and articulations of this more optimistic view continued to appear while the copyright debate was approaching its peak. I V . A P L A C E I N C O V E N T G A R D E N : H E N R Y F I E L D I N G ’ S L I M I T E D E C O N O M Y In January 1752, Henry Fielding launched the Covent-Garden Journal, the last major literary project he was to publish during his lifetime. Writing as a sea- soned professional in the first issue, he breezily praises his own goods while L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 134 groaning about the excessive “Multitude” of periodical essayists already flooding the market with their “small Parcels,”95 and he underscores the sig- nificance of the Journal’s locale by drawing on the language of the physical marketplace. Fielding begins by likening the throng of ephemeral journals to the meat stalls of Leadenhall Market, observing that “Consumers” will use both commodities for the same ends, since “there are certainly as many B-ms in the World as there are mouths.”96 The conceit applies just as readily to Covent Garden’s huge fruit and vegetable market, a block away from Fielding’s home and office on Bow Street, but he adduces this commercial glut only to press forward his claim to a share of the business: “Pray, Gentlemen, make Room for me; —I am but one. Certainly you may make Room for one more.”97 But no sooner has he pushed his way into the crowd than he shifts ground, wondering if the market can accommodate so many and dismissing his competitors with the same parodic hauteur that he displays in Tom Jones: “I do not in the least question, but that some of my cotemporary Authors will immediately, on my Appearance, have the Modesty to retire, and leave me sufficient Elbow Room in the World.”98 The plea for accommodation has given way to the imperious tones of Blackstone’s landlord, eager to clear out the riffraff. Finally, Fielding resolves the disparity by rejecting the premise that writers must inevitably jostle each other in a confined space. Too many in the profession, he says, behave “like mere Mechanics,” com- peting to sell identical wares—but any competent writer can stake out a new plot. Turning his back on the crowd, Fielding declares, “[I]t is not my Intention to encroach on the Business now carried on by my Cotem- poraries, nor to deal in any of those Wares which they at present vend to the Public.”99 Unlike Covent Garden, the literary marketplace apparently knows no fixed bounds. Yet instead of abandoning the analogy between literary and agricultural commerce, Fielding keeps circling around this theme, now exposing the nar- row scope of the Grub Street imagination. Where we might expect to see him crowing about his diligent search for a new vein of knowledge, he pre- fers to taunt his competitors by making the task look effortless. The list of proprietary “Title[s]” already claimed includes only a few items, most nota- bly “that spacious Field . . . called the Land of DULLNESS.”100 Once again, Fielding parcels out literary tracts in terms of physical space, this time elab- orating the metaphor even more facetiously through an appeal to the law of real property, which will, he hopes, excuse him for “accidentally . . . straying S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 135 in the said Field,” because “we Wits have, by Prescription, a Right of Com- mon there per Cause de Vicinage, as the Law calls it.”101 Citing the formula for the right to pasture cattle on a neighbor’s land, if the two adjoining estates have allowed each other that privilege “from time immemorial,”102 Fielding acknowledges that wits and hacks must both survive by stealing each other’s material, providing fodder for each other’s stock; his reference to the presiding spirit of the Dunciad recalls the Warburtonian legacy of dun- cehood, with the significant difference that Fielding specifies a property right that seems to exist precisely in order to be invaded. The legal claim confirms an association already implicit in his choice of address: along with its produce, Covent Garden was famous for its prosti- tutes, also known in contemporary slang as “hacks,” and indeed, the Jour- nal’s “Covent Garden” section, featured at the end of each issue, often included news of bawds and prostitutes tried in Fielding’s Bow Street court. Presented as an otiose, pedantically literal-minded application of the spatial metaphor, Fielding’s joke reveals his indebtedness to the distasteful wares already circulating in the marketplace; their promiscuous commerce, far from crowding him out, creates a place for his response. Pressed to its logical conclusion, the real-estate analogy would not only explode his vaunted inde- pendence, but would also reduce his own territory from an unmarked, unlimited expanse to a relatively circumscribed, if imperfectly enclosed, Field of Wit—and once endowed with a local habitation and a name, his alterna- tive to Grub Street loses its sense of infinite potential and becomes yet one more commercial property. The absurdly strained legalese allows Fielding to have it both ways: fascinated and appalled by the topographical conceit, he keeps spinning out reasons for abiding by its logic, always undercutting them at the same time. Significantly, however, he never describes the free, open space that should supply an alternative. His only concrete images of the literary marketplace, no matter how ironically charged, emphasize the problems of confinement and overcrowding; somewhere on the heights of Parnassus there may be room to breathe, but the mortals in Covent Garden cannot envision any such release. In this richly ambivalent introduction to his paper, Fielding seems to ridi- cule the very notion of literary property, here exemplified entirely by prod- ucts he intends to avoid. Besides dullness, he includes party politics and “personal Slander and Scurrility”103 among the goods to be retained by L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 136 the hacks; only fleetingly, and by implication, does wit itself become a form of property. He reaffirms the same skeptical attitude in the Journal’s fourth issue, which lists his conditions for peace with the “Republic of Grub Street.”104 In concluding the “Paper War” he has been waging since the jour- nal’s commencement (yet another elaboration of the spatial metaphor, this time more comic than ironic), Fielding stipulates that the Grub Street writers will retain “sole and undoubted Property” in “all Kinds of Scurrility, personal Abuse, and other the known Wares of Billingsgate”;105 nevertheless, as with his requisition of the duncely produce next door, the crude reference to “B-ms” in the opening essay has already indicated his determination to make free with any scurrility he may require. The notion of a derelict property belonging to nobody figures often in Fielding’s literary jurisprudence, but in this instance he also strives to capitalize on the opportunity, carrying off his abuse even while professing to spurn it. Fielding even hints at the irresist- ible appeal of such scandalous material when he observes that “the Public will buy the same Scurrility a hundred times over”106—a tribute to the magical powers of the abundant economy if there ever was one. In the treaty that ostensibly excludes him from such sordid takings, Fielding makes no complementary attempt to engross the more respect- able literary assets to himself, but he does insist that the Grub Street hacks may not peddle their offensive wares under his name. Even as he dispar- ages any claim to literary property, portraying it as an untenable monop- oly on worthless material, Fielding strives to preserve control over his reputation. Alternating between these two poles, he ignores the very lim- ited scope of copyright law, whose restriction to piracy meant that imita- tions were permissible almost everywhere except in the minds of a few contemporary writers. If his opponents’ ludicrous pretensions to legal title exceed any conceivable statutory basis, Fielding’s defense of reputation requires no grounding in the law of literary property, resting instead on principles associated with libel.107 Consistently misrepresenting the object of copyright, Fielding identifies its demands with the inflated, contempt- ible, self-serving claims of the hacks whose trivial and barely distinguish- able writings he blames for producing a drug on the market in the first place. The two issues that occupy him throughout both essays—the con- stricted economy and the claim to legal ownership—seem to represent dif- ferent aspects of the same basic problem. S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 137 V . A U T H O R S A N D O R I G I N S Fielding’s distrust of proprietary claims may appear surprising to modern readers, accustomed to copyright as a basic tool of literary commerce and control, but such skepticism was not unusual in the eighteenth century. The distinction between a text’s material and ideational aspects seemed fraught with ambiguities; one commentator found it “about as intelligible, as if one should state JOHN to be the Owner of the CARCASE and LIMBS of the Horse, and THOMAS the Owner of his Colour, his Shape, Speed, and Mettle.”108 Despite his legal training, Henry Fielding never commented so explicitly on copyright law, but this kind of folk wisdom comes close to the tone of his more farcical pontifications. Even in the absence of any direct statement, Fielding’s plays and novels often reflect on the dilemmas that copyright generates, and his engagements with these problems help to clarify certain aspects of the contemporaneous debate and of the philosophy of copyright more generally. Foremost among these is what Peter Jaszi calls the founding contradiction of copyright law, which seeks both to “promote public disclosure and dis- semination of works of ‘authorship’” and to “confer on the creators the power to restrict or deny distribution of their works.”109 The same paradox informs Blackstone’s impersonation of a jealous literary landlord and Richardson’s struggles with his readers and imitators. “Many particular doc- trinal constructs,” Jaszi adds, “are simply attempts to mediate the basic con- tradiction between public benefit and private reward. Their instability is guaranteed because the two goals are irreconcilable.”110 He finds this contra- diction reiterated, for example, in the “idea/expression” dichotomy—the doctrine that copyright protects the language of a text but not the underlying ideas it exemplifies. As many commentators have observed, the boundary between idea and expression is impossible to fix111—but just as remarkably, this doctrine ensures that even under a regime intent on rewarding creativity, the text’s most aesthetically and commercially valuable aspects may fail to qualify for legal protection.112 The poet who creates a new verse form and the novelist who develops a new twist for a familiar plotline cannot control their inventions, which must be shared with anyone who chooses to use them, like most other elements of the text. The requirement that authors must inevitably relinquish certain compo- nents of their writings provides a kind of legal sanction for the view that L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 138 readers somehow “possess” their favorite novels and poems—an especially common perception among literary critics, whose Warburtonian impulses often lead them to arrogate texts (and their attendant dunces) entirely to themselves. As that example suggests, the notion of shared property ulti- mately proves no more coherent than the idea/expression dichotomy, but at the same time, it recapitulates more directly the paradox inherent in Jaszi’s fundamental contradiction—indeed, it simply reformulates his contradiction in terms of property rather than circulation. Just as copyright seeks both to circulate works and to contrive a means of restricting their circulation, it makes the text public while also attempting to reserve the property to the author. The antinomies of diffusion and conservation are woven into the very fabric of copyright law. Fielding explores this contradiction by exploiting the incoherence of prop- erty in writing. In the Covent-Garden Journal essay, the title deeds to dullness and scurrility, no matter how unassailable, prove incapable of keeping the interlopers next door from taking the air or the flowers. Fielding’s carefully staged concessions and withdrawals may seem designed to explode the very concept of literary property, but as we have seen, his inability to describe an open space where texts can circulate independently suggests that writers are doomed to live on each other’s doorsteps, faute de mieux. The question then becomes not how to find an alternative space but how to acknowledge and respond to the problem of operating in such a limited sphere. Fielding’s solu- tion is to associate his work with an ethos of abundance while simultaneously relying on the habits enforced by an economy of scarcity—habits that often depend on conservation and frugal management. Such managerial diligence reminds us that property involves not only a status but an ongoing relation between the possessor and the possessed, a need for constant maintenance and oversight. Fielding’s meditations on public and private property, controlled and unre- stricted circulation, raise a number of questions about the legal and cultural boundaries of copyright. His parodic remarks on intercommoning, for exam- ple, revolve around the problem of access to private property—a problem that resurfaces four months later in another issue of the Covent-Garden Journal, this time in a disquisition on property and natural law. Quoting from Locke’s Second Treatise, Fielding bypasses the question of how acquisition occurs, turning immediately to its limits: in his redaction of Locke’s proviso, nobody can “‘acquire to himself a Property to the Prejudice of his Neighbour.’” S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 139 The effort at enclosure fails if it would deprive others of “‘Room for as good and large a Possession.’”113 Fielding’s bookseller, Andrew Millar, had spent most of the 1740s claiming exclusive ownership of publications such as Joseph Andrews in a suit against the Scottish booksellers;114 by contrast, Fielding here seeks to erode the ground of exclusive ownership, and as the essay continues he moves from Locke to Grotius, whose treatment of natural law and prop- erty in De Jure Belli ac Pacis (1625) explains how common rights may obtain in “‘those Things which are already become the Property of others.’”115 First Fielding adds Grotius’s qualification that “‘private Property . . . [must] be interpreted so as to depart as little as possible from natural Equity’”;116 then he explains that “in the last and greatest Necessity, ‘that old Law of using all Things in common, revives again.’”117 Even in a world ruled by private property, the commons persists, ready to provide an alternative mapping of space and resources. A similar model informs Fielding’s earlier argument against exclusive pos- session, directed in that case against the denizens of Grub Street. There, Fielding anticipates the doctrine of fair use, suggesting that a writer may avail himself of his neighbor’s pen without necessarily being guilty of infringement. What Fielding exploits as common ground represents the spoils of his “Paper War,” though to characterize the outcome in such uni- lateral terms risks missing the point that both sides have succeeded in despoiling each other. Put more generally, the literary feud provides an occasion for each side to exploit the opponent’s productions, to promote business all around by poaching the enemy’s prose and posturings. It appears, in fact, that Fielding undertook the “Paper War” for this very rea- son, proposing to John Hill of the London Daily Advertiser that the two col- umnists entertain the town—and boost their respective circulations—by professing to attack each other in print.118 The productive possibilities of such feuding must have been obvious at least since the Pope-Curll disputes that began in the 1710s, but whereas Fielding’s suggestion may not have been especially innovative, his appeal to the language of property helps to remind us that such aggressive intercommoning, though perhaps not a case of the “last and greatest necessity,” has often characterized literary feudalism since the eighteenth century, and occasions what is now one of the grounds in United States law for evaluating “fair use”—the exception for parodies.119 Indeed, given the tendency of certain literary factions to establish their own identity by pillorying their rivals, it might not be going too far to say that L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 140 with the parody defense, the U.S. Code has created a means of survival for writers who would otherwise find themselves without any resources. If the “Paper War” provides an alternative justification for the intercom- moning that Fielding had elsewhere defended as well-established custom, the joke about enclosing fields that were once left open raises the question of what exactly the proprietors must do to effect such a conversion (while departing as little as possible from natural equity), and how, given all these constraints, anyone could ever validate the charge of infringement. This question proved especially salient for Fielding, who would, just a few weeks after commencing his new paper, find himself accused of drawing on Smollett’s Roderick Random for the characters of Partridge (in Tom Jones) and Mrs. Matthews (in Amelia).120 The charge appeared in an anonymous pamphlet, possibly by Smollett himself, and Fielding never bothered to respond, having anticipated precisely this contingency in Tom Jones, where he remarks, “I have sometimes known a poet in danger of being convicted as a thief, upon much worse evidence than the resemblance of hands hath been held to be in the law.”121 In the dismissive comment on plagiarism, as in his vision of a fold that remains private but nevertheless yields the cud for his own ruminations, Fielding finds something for the author to pos- sess (a subtly conceived character, a province of wit or nonsense) while removing any means of protecting it. Indeed, Fielding’s own sense of propri- etorship seems to have been confined to his reputation, as he hints in his negotiations with the forces of Grub Street over the exclusive rights to his name. Throughout his career, Fielding objected when he found others’ work “fathered” on him,122 but as he watched the imitations and extensions of Tom Jones proliferate, he said nothing at all. Without claiming to abolish the cat- egory of literary property, Fielding reduces its force, evidently restricting it to precisely the same limits as statutory copyright. Yet if he rejects the account of literary property that would guard the author’s characters, themes, and conceptions, Fielding nevertheless retains some part of its linkage between the authorial personality and the text. His affinity with the masters of Dunce Manor, his determination to remain in their vicinity (or vicinage), may reflect the cramped conditions of the literary marketplace, but it also suggests the difficulty of separating these two estates: both sides find themselves compelled to share their resources, and the differ- ence consists entirely in how they use these materials. Fielding may be thought to anticipate Wilde’s axiom that “the true artist is known by the S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 141 use he makes of what he annexes, and he annexes everything.”123 Wilde’s aestheticism allows him to wave away the problem that Fielding facetiously obfuscates through his citation of legal jargon—the question of how to dis- tinguish fair use from theft—and yet although both writers gravitate toward the conclusion that all use is fair, Fielding at least tacitly associates “borrow- ing” with a sort of kinship that Wilde never acknowledges. It is their long- standing affiliation, after all, that justifies Fielding’s “Trespass”124 into his neighbor’s field, and yet that act also seems to cement their association, as if these continued foragings helped to maintain an interdependence that would otherwise fall away. Indeed, given the uncertain divisions of Field- ing’s literary London, one might conclude that any faction could make itself at home wherever it liked, trespassing first and adducing its cause de vicinage afterward. Fielding helps to suggest the plausibility of this kind of indiscrim- inate feudal warfare when, in the lexicon of modern jargon that he published alongside his treaty with Grub Street, he defines “Dulness” as “A Word applied by all Writers to the Wit and Humour of others.”125 Casting himself as the Jonathan Wild of Covent Garden, always ready to forage in the next field over, Fielding suggests that neighbors tend to make good fences—and fences tend to establish themselves wherever they like. Where the modern law of fair use focuses mainly on the material which has been copied, and on how the use affects the source, Fielding attends to the copier; the modern doctrine of “transformative use,” designed to license those imitations that alter their sources, takes on a different meaning under the aegis of Fielding’s land law, which hints that users may also find themselves transformed at the same time. If Warburton and Richardson act out the occupation of the proprietary author, Fielding allows us to question its premise—and he dissevers original- ity, authorship, and property according to a logic that reveals the productive conflicts among these terms rather than reducing the contradictions of copy- right to a dead end. In the principle of cause de vicinage, which in effect posits multiple proprietors for the same meager resources, Fielding complicates the presumptive one-to-one relationship between text and author. His reliance on reputation as the basic element of literary property revises the demands of possessive authorship in ways that begin to gesture toward the reader’s occupation. That space would finally come into its own with the reaffirma- tion of limited-term copyright in 1774 and the establishment of the public domain, and perhaps this kind of occupancy constitutes a new form that is L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 142 not complementary but integral to the status of the proprietary author. At the very least, Fielding seems to hold out this possibility at time when the textual terrain was growing increasingly limited. . Henry Fielding, The Author’s Farce (Lincoln: University of Nebraska Press,  []), . . Millar v. Taylor,  Eng. Rep. , ,  () (Yates J., dissenting). . For some recent arguments, see Arthur R. Miller, “Common Law Protection for Products of the Mind: An ‘Idea’ Whose Time Has Come,”  Harvard Law Review  (); Kenneth Basin & Tina Rad, “‘I Could Have Been a Fragrance Millionaire’: Toward a Federal Idea Protection Act,”  Journal of the Copyright Society of the U.S.A.  (). . Alan Coren, “This Don for Hire,” in The Rhinestone as Big as the Ritz (London: Robson, ), . . David Lodge, Changing Places (London: Secker and Warburg, ), . . For a more extended fictional meditation on this theme, see Spider Robinson, “Melancholy Ele- phants,” in Melancholy Elephants (New York: Tor, ), –; and the discussion in Paul K. Saint-Amour, The Copywrights: Intellectual Property and the Literary Imagination (Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press, ), –. . Johnson was responding to a query from Boswell: “Both Sir John Hawkins’s and Dr. Burney’s History of Musick had then been advertised. I asked if this was not unlucky: would they not hurt one another?” James Boswell, Journal of a Tour to the Hebrides, ed. Allan Wendt (Boston: Houghton Mifflin, ), . . Martha Woodmansee, “On the Author Effect: Recovering Collectivity,” in Martha Woodmansee & Peter Jaszi, The Construction of Authorship: Textual Appropriation in Law and Literature (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, ), –; Robert DeMaria Jr. & Gwin J. Kolb, “Johnson’s Dictionary and Dictionary Johnson,”  Yearbook of English Studies , – (). For discussions of this perspective on authorship in relation to current practices of writing, see, e.g., Julie E. Cohen, “Cre- ativity and Culture in Copyright Theory,”  U.C. Davis Law Review ,  (); Candace Spigelman, “Habits of Mind: Historical Configurations of Textual Ownership in Peer Writing Groups,”  College Composition and Communication , – (). . See, e.g., Thomas M. Curley, “Johnson’s Secret Collaboration,” in The Unknown Samuel Johnson, eds. John J. Burke & Donald Kay (Madison: University of Wisconsin Press, ), –. . Lawrence Lipking, Samuel Johnson: The Life of an Author (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), . . Joseph Loewenstein, Ben Jonson and Possessive Authorship (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; Alan B. Farmer, “Print Culture and Reading Practices,” in Ben Jonson in Context, ed. Julie Sanders (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; Douglas A. Brooks, From Playhouse to Printing House: Drama and Authorship in Early Modern England (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; Laurie Ellinghausen, Labor and Writing in Early Modern England, – (Aldershot, UK: Ashgate, ), –; Lynn S. Meskill, “Ben Jonson’s  Folio: A Revolution in Print?,”  Études Épistémè  (). . Joseph Spence, Anecdotes, Observations, and Characters, of Books and Men, Collected from the Conversa- tion of Mr. Pope, and Other Eminent Persons of his Time, ed. Samuel Weller Singer (London: Carpenter, ), –. As one critic has observed, Pope “believed that his works would be his monument.” Morris R. Brownell, “Pope’s Art of Dying,”  Studies in English Literature –, ,  (). Not only did Pope select a biographer (Spence), but he also chose William Warburton as his literary executor and editor (see below, section III), and Lord Bolingbroke as custodian of his manuscripts. These efforts at posthumous control, however, were largely unavailing. See id. S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 143 . E.g., the Twickenham edition of Pope’s poems,  vols. (New Haven, CT: Yale University Press, –); the Eversley edition of Kingsley’s novels,  vols. (London: Macmillan, ); the Swanston edition of Stevenson’s works,  vols. (London: Chatto & Windus, –). . Anon., The Adventures of Author, Written by Himself and a Friend,  vols. (London: Robinson & Roberts, ), :. . See, e.g., Thomas Warton, The Life and Literary Remains of Ralph Bathurst, M.D. (London: Dodsley, ); Anon., Review of The Works of Dr. Jonathan Swift, vols. –, in St. James’s Chronicle or the British Evening Post (London), no.  (Aug. , ), p. , col.  (“our Readers [will be] curious to know what Addition hath been lately made to the literary Remains of so admired an Author”); Foote Gower, A Sketch of the Materials for a New and Compleat History of Cheshire: With Some Short Accounts of the Characteristic Genius and Manners of Its Inhabitants, nd ed. (Chester: Lawton, ),  (an antiquarian writer’s “Literary-Remains [concerning the town of Namptwich] are as complete as we could possibly have wished”); Edward Thompson, ed., The Poems and Miscellaneous Composi- tions of Paul Whitehead; With Explanatory Notes on His Writings, and His Life (Dublin: Price, ),  (describing “the Editor’s . . . motive for collecting the literary remains of Mr. WHITEHEAD”). . [John Murray], A Letter to W[illiam] Mason . . . Concerning His Edition of Mr. Gray’s Poems and the Practices of the Booksellers, by a Bookseller (London: Murray, ), . . Samuel Johnson & George Steevens, Supplement to the Edition of Shakspeare’s Plays Published in ,  vols. (London: Bathurst, ), :. Similarly self-conscious usages persisted through the nineteenth century; see, e.g., “Mr. James, the Novelist” [anonymous review of G. P. R. James, The Step-Mother],  Littell’s Living Age  () (“the acreage of [James’s] literary estate is now very considerable”); Mrs. Grenville Murray, “The Heiress,” in The Keepsake , ed. Marguerite A. Power (London: Bogue, ),  (the “ancient custom” that requires storytellers “to furnish a moral” is “a kind of feudal tenure by which a literary estate is held”). . As early as , Robert Southey used the phrase in this sense in a letter about the pending copyright legislation, which would have provided for sixty years of protection: “[I]t is mortifying to reflect how little the benefit will be in proportion to the desert. Voltaire’s works would, perhaps for ever, form the best literary estate in France; Lord Byron’s, for another generation, in England.” John Wood Warter, ed., Selections from the Letters of Robert Southey,  vols. (London: Longman, ), : (letter of May , ). . Mark Rose, “Copyright and Its Metaphors,”  U.C.L.A. Law Review , – (); William St. Clair, “Metaphors of Intellectual Property,” in Privilege and Property: Essays on the History of Copy- right, eds. Ronan Deazley et al. (Cambridge: Open Book, ), –; Patricia Loughlan, “Pirates, Parasites, Reapers, Sowers, Fruits, Foxes . . . The Metaphors of Intellectual Property,”  Sydney Law Review , – (). .  Anne c.  (). . Throughout this essay, I use the word “bookseller” in its eighteenth-century sense, to identify what today would be called a publisher. On the booksellers’ role in the passage of the  act, see Mark Rose, Authors and Owners: The Invention of Copyright (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ), –; John Feather, “The Book Trade in Politics: The Making of the Copyright Act of ,”  Publishing History  (). . For further discussion of the statute’s avoidance of a property rights framework, see Simon Stern, “From Author’s Right to Property Right,”  University of Toronto Law Journal  (). . John Feather, “From Rights in Copies to Copyright: The Recognition of Authors’ Rights in English Law and Practice in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries,” in The Construction of Authorship: Textual Appropriation in Law and Literature, eds. Martha Woodmansee & Peter Jaszi (Durham, NC: Duke University Press, ), –. . Richard Atkyns, The Case of the Booksellers and Printers Stated; with Answers to the Objections of the Patentees (London, ). L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 144 . Kate O’Neill, “Against Dicta: A Legal Method for Rescuing Fair Use from the Right of First Publication,”  California Law Review ,  (). . Linda L. Berger, “The Lady, or the Tiger?: A Field Guide to Metaphor and Narrative,”  Washburn Law Journal ,  (); David Fagundes, “Property Rhetoric and the Public Domain,”  Minnesota Law Review , – (); Bill D. Herman, “Breaking and Entering My Own Com- puter: The Contest of Copyright Metaphors,”  Communication Law and Policy , – (); William Patry, “Metaphors and Moral Panics in Copyright,”  Intellectual Property Quarterly , ; Shyamkrishna Balganesh, “Common Law Property Metaphors on the Internet: The Real Problem with the Doctrine of Cybertrespass,”  Michigan Telecommunications and Technology Law Review  (). . Jessica Litman, “The Public Domain,”  Emory Law Journal ,  () (footnotes omitted). . Mark Lemley, “Romantic Authorship and the Rhetoric of Property,”  Texas Law Review ,  (). . See Lyman Ray Patterson, The Statute of Anne: Copyright Misconstrued,  Harvard Journal on Legis- lation ,  () (“The nature of the copyright act as an antimonopoly statute has been over- shadowed because it enabled the author for the first time to acquire copyright, and because it was deemed to have created a new form of property, statutory copyright. . . . [But] copyright was not new, and the statute merely placed drastic limitations on an existing concept of copyright.”). . Rose, supra note , at . See also id. at ; Martha Woodmansee, The Author, Art, and the Market: Rereading the History of Aesthetics (New York: Columbia University Press, ), . . Others have argued that the importance of collaborative authorship has been overlooked in the emphasis on the cultural role of the unique, creative author, but claims about the dominance of the proprietary author have provoked less criticism. For challenges to the paradigm of proprietary authorship, see Hilary Jane Englert, “Occupying Works: Animated Objects and Literary Property,” in The Secret Life of Things, ed. Mark Blackwell (Cranberry, NJ: Rosemont Publishing, Associated University Presses, ), –, ; Ronan Deazley, On the Origin of the Right to Copy (Oxford: Hart, ), xxvi. . This paragraph and the following two draw on, and revise, the discussion of copyright and literary circulation in Simon Stern, “Tom Jones and the Economies of Copyright,”  Eighteenth-Century Fic- tion , – (). . William Kenrick, review of A Vindication of the Exclusive Right of Authors to Their Own Works,  Monthly Review ,  (). As Kenrick makes clear, his argument depends on the assumption that every text has a limited market: “Whoever sells the books offered to sale by another, prevents the latter, in effect, from disposing of what he offers to sale. . . . [T]he sale of a book is, in a great measure, confined to a certain number; and if that number be sold by one person, no other person can sell any.” Id. at –. . David Roh offers a recent example in his discussion of the highly implausible arguments raised against Pia Pera’s retelling of Lolita in Lo’s Diary: “The lawyers representing the Nabokov estate accused Pera of copyright infringement” and argued that her book “would adversely affect sales of Lolita and inflict financial harm on the original.” David Roh, “Two Copyright Case Studies from a Literary Perspective,”  Law and Literature ,  () (footnote omitted). . For discussion of “theft” as a metaphor, see St. Clair, supra note , at . A modern variant is the metaphor of “bodily appropriation,” which seems to have emerged first in patent law; see Wilcox v. Kemp,  F. Cas. ,  (C.C.S.D.N.Y. ). Not until much later did it begin to appear in copyright law; see Huie v. National Broadcasting Co.,  F. Supp. ,  (S.D.N.Y. ). For recent examples in the context of copyright, see, e.g., Novak v. Barner Bros. Pictures, LLC,  Fed. Appx. ,  (th Cir. ); Allen v. Ghoulish Gallery,  WL , at * (S.D. Cal. ). . The Cases of the Appellants and Respondents in the Cause of Literary Property (London, Bew ), Ar; Ilay Campbell, Information for Alexander Donaldson and John Wood . . . against John Hinton S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 145 (Edinburgh, ),  (“The author may avail himself as much as he pleases of the property of his manuscript; but it is denied that he has any property in the ideas thereby conveyed”). As for the gin- gerbread joke, perhaps its oddest feature is its implicit slur not only on the agents of copyright law but also on its object—a slur that seems inappropriate in an argument intended to increase the circu- lation of books. . G. W. Pigman III, “Versions of Imitation in the Renaissance,”  Renaissance Quarterly  (); Stephen Orgel, “The Renaissance Artist as Plagiarist,”  English Literary History  (); Harold Ogden White, Plagiarism and Imitation during the English Renaissance (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, ); Terence Cave, The Cornucopian Text: Problems of Writing in the French Renaissance (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ). . Hence Francis Hargrave could write in  that “there is such an infinite variety in the modes of thinking and writing . . . that a literary work really original, like the human face, will always have some singularities . . . to fix and establish its identity; and to assert the contrary . . . would be . . . opposite to reason and universal experience.” Francis Hargrave, An Argument in Defence of Literary Property, nd ed. (London: Otridge, ), . Some have read the reference to “really original” works as demonstrating a concern with aesthetic creativity, but as the analogy to the human face shows, Hargrave is concerned with independent vs. non-independent creation, not with a distinction involving degrees of ingenuity. According to his analogy, identical twins could be regarded as cop- ies, and would not be “really original.” For a recent discussion, see Mario Biagioli, “Genius against Copyright: Revisiting Fichte’s ‘Proof of the Illegality of Reprinting,’”  Notre Dame Law Review  (). . Patent law, by contrast, requires proof of originality as a precondition for registration in the first place, and hence this branch of intellectual property relies more consistently on a high-protectionist means of regulation. .  Anne c. , I. . On the events leading to the lapse of the Licensing Act, resulting in part from antimonopolistic sen- timent, see John Feather, Publishing, Piracy, and Politics: An Historical Study of Copyright in Britain (London: Mansell, ), ; Rose, supra note , at –; and Raymond Astbury, “The Renewal of the Licensing Act in  and Its Lapse in ,”  The Library  (). . Feather, supra note ; Deazley, supra note , at –; Rose, supra note , at –. . Daniel Defoe, An Essay on the Regulation of the Press (London, ), . Ironically, Defoe published the essay anonymously, and even the printer failed to identify himself on the title page. This pam- phlet has been discussed by many historians of copyright and the book trade; see, e.g., Rose, supra note , at –; Feather, supra note , at –; and Feather, supra note , at –. . Henry Parker, To the High Court of Parliament, the Humble Remonstrance of the Company of Stationers (London, ), sig. Ar (arguing for exclusive ownership among guild members because “[m]any men[’]s studies carry no other profit or recompence with them, but the benefit of their Copies; and if this be taken away, many Pieces of great worth and excellence will be strangled in the womb, or never conceived at all for the future”). . For the  petition, see  Journals of the House of Commons  (Feb. , ). .  Anne c. , sec. XI. . William Blackstone, Commentaries on the Laws of England,  vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, –) :. . Augustine Birrell, Seven Lectures on the Law and History of Copyright (London: Cassell, ), ; see also Gwyn Walters, “The Booksellers in  and : The Battle for Literary Property,”  The Library  (). . For a recent discussion, see Ronan Deazley, “The Statute of Anne and the Great Abridgment Swindle,”  Houston Law Review  (). . Dodsley v. Kinnersley,  Eng. Rep.  (). L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 146 . Archibald Campbell, The Sale of Authors: A Dialogue, in Imitation of Lucian’s Sale of Philosophers (London, ), . . [Samuel Patterson], Joineriana: Or the Book of Scraps (London: Johnson, ), . . Thus, for example, Nicholas Seager notes that in the first continuation of Defoe’s Roxana, published in , “the publisher . . . was exploiting the loophole in copyright law, which meant that partial reproduction of another work was not considered unlawful.” Nicholas Seager, “Prudence and Pla- giarism in the  Continuation of Defoe’s Roxana,”  The Library ,  (). . On the drafters’ failure to adopt those suggestions, see Stern, supra note . . There were occasional provocations during this period. For example, Robert Walker initiated an early skirmish in the “battle of booksellers” by reprinting Shakespeare’s plays in –. See “The Tonson-Walker Quarrel” in H. L. Ford, Shakespeare –: A Collation of the Editions and Separate Plays (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), –; Giles E. Dawson, “Robert Walker’s editions of Shakespeare,” in Studies the English Renaissance Drama, eds. Josephine W. Bennett et al. (New York: New York University Press, ), –; Don-John Dugas, Marketing the Bard: Shakespeare in Performance and Print, – (Columbia: University of Missouri Press, ), –, –. . Feather, supra note , at . . Alexander Pope, “An Essay on Criticism,” in The Poems of Alexander Pope, ed. John Butt (London: Routledge, ), . . The Correspondence of Alexander Pope, ed. George Sherburn,  vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), : (letter of July , ). For a recent discussion, see Richard Terry, “Pope and Plagiarism,”  Modern Language Review ,  (). . Alexander Pope, “Epistle III: To Allen Lord Bathurst,” in The Poems of Alexander Pope, supra note , at . . Joseph Addison, The Tatler, ed. Donald F. Bond,  vols. (Oxford: Clarendon Press ), : (no. , Dec. , ). For more on Addison’s essay, see Rose, supra note , at –; Richmond P. Bond, “The Pirate and the Tatler,”  The Library , – (). An especially valuable discus- sion of Addison’s involvement in the pending legislation may be found in Thomas B. Morris Jr., “The Origins of the Statute of Anne,”  Copyright Law Symposium , – (). Just a few years earlier, Ned Ward had offered a somewhat different account of writing as property when he attacked the literary pirate as a “Drone,” possessed of “the Soul of a Shoplifter disguis’d in the Body of a Typog- rapher.” Ned Ward, The London Terræ-Filius: Or, The Satyrical Reformer. Being Drolling Reflections on the Vices and Vanities of Both Sexes (London, ), :– (quoted in Bond, supra, at ). . Addison, supra note , at :. . Id. at :, . . They also sought to extend the initial term of protection to twenty-one years. An Act for the Better Encouragement of Learning, and for the More Effectual Securing the Copies of Printed Books to the Authors or Purchasers of Such Copies, during the Times Therein Mentioned (London, ),  (Bodl. shelfmark MS. Carte  ()). . A Letter to a Member of Parliament Concerning the Bill Now Depending in the House of Commons, for Making More Effectual an Act in the th Year of the Reign of Queen Anne, Entituled, An Act for the Encouragement of Learning (London, ). I have not cited page numbers for this broadside, which is printed on one side only. It was apparently published after the bill was introduced in the House in the House of Commons, on March , and before the booksellers responded, on April ; see infra note . . Id. . Id. . A Letter from an Author to a Member of Parliament, Occasioned by a Late Letter Concerning the Bill Now Depending in the House of Commons, for the Encouragement of Learning, &c. (London, April , ); S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 147 for further discussion of this pamphlet, see Rose, supra note , at –. It was followed a week later by A Second Letter from an Author to a Member of Parliament, Containing Some Further Remarks on a Late Letter Concerning the Bill Now depending in the House of Commons, for the Encouragement of Learn- ing, &c. (London, April , ). . A Letter from an Author, supra note , at . . See, e.g., William Warburton, A Letter from an Author to a Member of Parliament, Concerning Literary Property (London: Knapton, ), ; Samuel Richardson, The Case of Samuel Richardson, of London, Printer, with Regard to the Invasion of His Property in the History of Sir Charles Grandison (London: Richardson, ), –; A Vindication of the Exclusive Right of Authors to Their Own Works (London: Griffiths, ), ; William Enfield, Observations on Literary Property (London: Johnson, ), –; Hargrave, supra note , at –. . A Letter from an Author, supra note , at . . See, e.g., The Case of Authors and Proprietors of Books (London, ), which reprints several para- graphs from A Letter from an Author and A Second Letter from an Author, supra note . . A Letter from an Author, supra note , at . . Id. at . . The Case of Authors and Proprietors of Books, supra note , at . . The booksellers would address that danger in its starkest terms when confronted in  with the loss of perpetual copyright and the sovereign control that accompanied it. “The Copy-holder,” they declared, like the lord of a soil, is sensible that his emolument must be estimated by the cultivation, and therefore pays a sum of money to have every edition, or fresh crop of his literary acres improved to the utmost advantage, whereas the freebooter, like a tenant at will, considers only his temporary interest, and . . . cares not how he plays upon the easiness of the commu- nity. (General Observations on the Expediency of Granting Relief in Literary Property (London, 1774), 2). It is difficult to maintain such a neat distinction between the prudential landlord-farmers of the literary soil and their freebooting parasites, determined to seize whatever they can lay their hands on; after all, the booksellers themselves might just as plausibly be characterized as subsistence farm- ers bent on exploiting their resources to the fullest for a minimal investment. Payments for improved and corrected editions varied widely, occasionally involving lavish sums but often carrying little or no remuneration according to the terms of a contract that had specifically included such revisions as one of the author’s duties. . The advertisement appears on a page removed from a newspaper and mounted in Bodl. shelfmark  ×  Jur. (this page, itself unnumbered, is bound between nos.  and ). . See supra text accompanying note . . John Maclaurin, Lord Dreghorn, Considerations on the Nature and Origin of Literary Property, Wherein That Species of Property is Clearly Proved to Subsist No Longer than for the Terms Fixed by the Statute vo Ann. (Edinburgh: Donaldson, ), . . The Cases of the Appellants and Respondents, supra note , at . The extended metaphor appears in the argument of Sir John Dalrymple, counsel for the Edinburgh booksellers in Donaldson v. Beckett; following this introduction, Dalrymple offers a two-and-a-half page, clause-by-clause repetition of the terms of the original statute, with strategic rephrasings throughout. . Anon., An Enquiry into the Nature and Origin of Literary Property (London, Flexney ), , . On the pamphlet’s authorship, see Donald Nichol, “Warburton (Not!) on Copyright,”  British Journal for Eighteenth-Century Studies  (). . An Enquiry, supra note , at –. L a w & L i t e r a t u r e • Vo l u m e 2 4 , N u m b e r 2 148 . As Yates explained, “[The buyer] may not lend it, if he is not to print it; because it will entrench upon the author’s profits. . . . I don’t see that he would have a right to copy the book . . . for, print- ing is only a method of transcription.” Millar v. Taylor, supra note , at . Camden, opposing the argument for common law copyright in , asked rhetorically, “[C]an the purchaser lend his Book to his Friend? Can he let it out for Hire as the circulating Libraries do? . . . (Every Thing of this Kind, in a Degree, prejudices the Author’s Sale of the Impression).” The Cases of the Appellants and Respondents, supra note , at . . Warburton, supra note . . William Warburton, “Advertisement,” in The Works of Alexander Pope, Esq., ed. William Warburton,  vols. (London: Knapton, ), :xii. . Nichol, supra note , at . . Samuel Richardson, “Advertisement,” Daily Gazetteer, May  and , , quoted in T. C. Duncan Eaves & Ben D. Kimpel, Samuel Richardson: A Biography (Oxford: Clarendon Press, ), , . For other discussions of Richardson’s irate response to this perceived abuse of his characters and ideas, see Tom Keymer & Peter Sabor, Pamela in the Marketplace: Literary Controversy and Print Cul- ture in Eighteenth-Century Britain and Ireland (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; Lisa Maruca, The Work of Print: Authorship and the English Text Trades, – (Seattle: University of Washington Press, ), –; Elizabeth Judge, “Kidnapped and Counterfeit Characters: Eighteenth-Century Fan Fiction, Copyright Law, and the Custody of Fictional Charac- ters,” in Originality and Intellectual Property in the French and English Enlightenment, ed. Reginald McGinnis (London: Routledge, ), –. . Richardson, supra note , at , . For other discussions of this episode, see Adrian Johns, Piracy: the Intellectual Property Wars from Gutenberg to Gates (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, ), –; Leah Price, The Anthology and the Rise of the Novel: From Richardson to George Eliot (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, ), –; Judge, supra note , at ; Donatella Montini, “Owning the Text, Disowning the Hand: Sir Charles Grandison, the Epistolary Novel, and Copyright,” in The Economy Principle in English: Linguistic, Literary, and Cultural Perspectives, eds. Giovanni Iamartino et al. (Milan: UNICOPLI, ), –. . Pope v. Curll,  Eng. Rep.  (Ch. ). . Richardson, supra note , at . . Pope v. Curll, supra note , at . . Tonson v. Collins,  Eng. Rep.  (). . Addison died in ; thus under the Statute of Anne, his essays were not eligible for a second term of protection. On Addison’s experience with piracy, and his role in advocating for copyright protec- tion, see Bond, supra note , and Morris, supra note . Steele lived until , three years into the second fourteen-year term, which expired in . For more on the copyright of the Spectator (which netted Addison and Steele the sum of £), see G. F. Papali, Jacob Tonson, Publisher (Auckland: Tonson Publishing House, ), –. The contract included the requirement, typical in its day, that the bookseller and his heirs would retain the copyright “for ever.” . Tonson v. Collins, supra note , at . . Thomas Noon Talford, Three Speeches Delivered to the House of Commons in Favour of a Measure for an Extension of Copyright (London: Moxon, ), . . Henry Fielding, The Covent-Garden Journal and A Plan of the Universal Register-Office, ed. Bertrand A Goldgar (Middletown, CT: Wesleyan University Press, ),  (no. , Jan. , ). . Id. at . . Id. . Id. . Id. at . . Id. S t e r n • “ R o o m f o r O n e M o r e ” 149 . Id. at . . See, e.g., Blackstone, supra note , at :. . Fielding, Covent-Garden Journal, supra note , at . . Id. at . . Id. at –. . Henry Fielding, The Jacobite’s Journals and Related Writings, ed. W. B. Coley (Middletown, CT, ),  (no. , June , ) . Indeed, Fielding often invokes the law of defamation to protect literary reputation; in Tom Jones, for example, he observes that “[t]he slander of a book is, in truth, the slander of the author.” Henry Fielding, Tom Jones, eds. John Bender & Simon Stern (Oxford: Oxford University Press, ), . See also Fielding’s essay on libel, slander, and reputation in Covent-Garden Journal, supra note , at  (Feb. , ), and the discussion of the libelous implications of writing and reading novels as thinly disguised references to real people, in Sarah Fielding’s preface to her novel The History of the Countess of Dellwyn (London: Millar, ). . The Cases of the Appellants and Respondents, supra note , at . . Peter Jaszi, “Towards a Theory of Copyright: The Metamorphoses of ‘Authorship,’” / Duke Law Journal ,  (). . Id. . See, e.g., Nichols v. Universal Pictures Corp.,  F.d ,  (d Cir. ) (“Nobody has ever been able fix that boundary, and nobody can”). . Consider, for example, Raymond Chandler’s complaint that “the courts have a very primitive atti- tude on plagiarism. . . . Someday an enlightened jurist of the type of Curtis Bok or Learned Hand may announce that plagiarism of style is the most nefarious of all forms of plagiarism and the shab- biest.” Frank MacShane, ed., Selected Letters of Raymond Chandler (New York: Columbia University Press, ),  (letter to F. H. Hose, Sept. , ). . John Locke, Two Treatises of Government, II.v, §, cited in Fielding, Covent-Garden Journal, supra note , at  (issue no. , May , ). . The dispute, reported as Midwinter v. Hamilton and as Millar v. Kinkaid at different stages of its pro- gression, lasted from  to . Deazley, supra note , at –; Warren McDougal, “Gavin Hamilton, Bookseller in Edinburgh,”  British Journal for Eighteenth-Century Studies , – (). . Fielding, Covent-Garden Journal, supra note , at  (quoting Grotius). . Id., giving Fielding’s own translation of Hugo Grotius, De Jure Belli ac Pacis, II.ii.; Fielding had a copy in his collection of treatises on natural law. See id. at  n.. . Id. at . . For more on the “Paper War,” see Bertrand Goldgar, “Introduction” to Fielding, Covent-Garden Journal, supra note , at xxxvi–xxxix; Betty Rizzo, “Notes on the War between Henry Fielding and John Hill, –,”  The Library  (). . See  U.S.C. § . . A Faithful Narrative of the Base and Inhuman Arts that were Lately Practised upon the Brain of Habbak- kuk Hilding, Justice, Dealer, and Chapman (London: Sharp, ), . . Fielding, Tom Jones, supra note , at . . See, e.g., Henry Fielding’s preface to the second edition of Sarah Fielding’s David Simple (London: Millar, ); as well as his Tom Jones, supra note , at  (Bk. , ch. ); Covent-Garden Journal  (May , ), supra note , at . . Oscar Wilde, “Olivia at the Lyceum,”  Dramatic Review  (); for further discussion, see Saint-Amour, supra note , at . . Fielding, Covent-Garden Journal, supra note , at . . Id. at  (issue no. , Jan. , ). 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/ITA (Utilizzare queste impostazioni per creare documenti Adobe PDF che devono essere conformi o verificati in base a PDF/X-1a:2001, uno standard ISO per lo scambio di contenuto grafico. Per ulteriori informazioni sulla creazione di documenti PDF compatibili con PDF/X-1a, consultare la Guida dell'utente di Acrobat. I documenti PDF creati possono essere aperti con Acrobat e Adobe Reader 4.0 e versioni successive.) /JPN <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> /KOR <FEFFc7740020c124c815c7440020c0acc6a9d558c5ec0020c791c131d558b294002000410064006f0062006500200050004400460020bb38c11cb2940020d655c778c7740020d544c694d558ba700020adf8b798d53d0020cee8d150d2b8b97c0020ad50d658d558b2940020bc29bc95c5d00020b300d55c002000490053004f0020d45cc900c7780020005000440046002f0058002d00310061003a0032003000300031c7580020addcaca9c5d00020b9dec544c57c0020d569b2c8b2e4002e0020005000440046002f0058002d003100610020d638d65800200050004400460020bb38c11c0020c791c131c5d00020b300d55c0020c790c138d55c0020c815bcf4b2940020004100630072006f0062006100740020c0acc6a90020c124ba85c11cb97c0020cc38c870d558c2edc2dcc624002e0020c774b807ac8c0020c791c131b41c00200050004400460020bb38c11cb2940020004100630072006f0062006100740020bc0f002000410064006f00620065002000520065006100640065007200200034002e00300020c774c0c1c5d0c11c0020c5f40020c2180020c788c2b5b2c8b2e4002e> /NLD (Gebruik deze instellingen om Adobe PDF-documenten te maken die moeten worden gecontroleerd of moeten voldoen aan PDF/X-1a:2001, een ISO-standaard voor het uitwisselen van grafische gegevens. Raadpleeg de gebruikershandleiding van Acrobat voor meer informatie over het maken van PDF-documenten die compatibel zijn met PDF/X-1a. De gemaakte PDF-documenten kunnen worden geopend met Acrobat en Adobe Reader 4.0 en hoger.) /NOR 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work_xbmmxoee7nfxzoyjzomgyhckfu	----	Datocracy  Article  Accepted Version  Frearson, A. (2016) Datocracy. Journal of Visual Art Practice,  15 (2­3). pp. 168­175. ISSN 1758­9185 doi:  https://doi.org/10.1080/14702029.2016.1228807 Available at  http://centaur.reading.ac.uk/81418/  It is advisable to refer to the publisher’s version if you intend to cite from the  work.  See Guidance on citing  . Published version at: http://www.tandfonline.com/eprint/agC8gg4xGsGVm6xmPMQp/full  To link to this article DOI: http://dx.doi.org/10.1080/14702029.2016.1228807  Publisher: Taylor & Francis  All outputs in CentAUR are protected by Intellectual Property Rights law,  including copyright law. Copyright and IPR is retained by the creators or other  copyright holders. Terms and conditions for use of this material are defined in  the End User Agreement  .  www.reading.ac.uk/centaur    CentAUR  Central Archive at the University of Reading  Reading’s research outputs online http://centaur.reading.ac.uk/71187/10/CentAUR%20citing%20guide.pdf http://www.reading.ac.uk/centaur http://centaur.reading.ac.uk/licence Title: Datocracy Author: Annabel Frearson Abstract: Datocracy is a compound neologism that embraces transhistorical liberations and reconfigurations of data, in its multiple perceptual-linguistic forms, into new value relations and systems of governance, democratic or otherwise. Datocracy evolves from the often-violent separation of data from its habitual matrices, by virtue of dispositifs, or apparatuses, as defined by Michel Foucault and elaborated by Gilles Deleuze. This paper examines material examples of the functioning of such dispositifs through Georges Bataille, Walter Benjamin, François Rabelais (through Mikhail Bakhtin), and William Burroughs. These examples demonstrate how emancipated data is readily recuperated into new relations of governance, as liberatory socio-political tools (or apparatuses), or vehicles of tyranny. In its passage between liberation and recuperation, in its state of utterance, perhaps, data experiences a protosemantic moment, a pre-definitional state, which offers the promise of a momentary escape from, or rather within, value relations. Keywords: Data, dispositif, protosemantic, democracy, tyranny, value, Datocracy evolves from the separation or liberation of data (in all its myriad forms, cultural or otherwise), allowing for its reconfiguration by everyman and dictator alike into new value relations.1 The dispositif, or apparatus, in its dynamic connective function, allows for singular gestures to reproduce transhistorically and imperially beyond their site of origin. In the first instance this requires an act of separation, in which a certain violence is implied. This paper examines (trans)historical precursors of extraordinary bodily relationships with data, in its multiple coded perceptual-linguistic forms, as protosemantic dispositifs and refractors of governance. Within a datocratic environment it could be said that we are on equal terms with data, but that balance of power is continually shifting through a series of symbiotic, ideological and affective relationships. There is a tipping point between cultural mastery and over identification; the competing agencies now at play in our relation with cultural entities are synonymous with the ‘liberogenic’ freedom of neoliberalism, wherein we are compelled to be free to choose, and to produce our own cultural fulfilment, having already been fully atomised in all aspects of our material and immaterial lives, in line with the production of human capital and manifold externalised subjectivities. Hence, Datocracy is an auditory, verbal and conceptual amalgam of data, democracy, totalitarian, de Tocqueville, and crass tyranny. It sits between the constraint of the word – the inscribed form – and the freedom of the utterance; it is this space that I would like to explore, and ultimately question whether the utterance, in its passage from the ‘infomantic’ body, might provide a protosemantic liberation of data from itself. 1 Datocracy is my own term created in a series of playful neologisms, including infomanticism, LouisQuatorzisation, and methodology maudite, all of which correspond to my thinking around the reconstitution of cultural value in post-digital, economy-of-attention realm. The motif of the severed finger functions as a performative dispositif to demonstrate how a single entity can acquire a ‘strange freedom’, in the words of French theorist Georges Bataille (1897-1962), and separate itself from previous contexts, influences, hierarchies, and lineages in order to return in a new system of relations. The severed finger is not just an object of exchange conveying use value or meaning, nor is it merely poetically pleasurable, but it carries through Bataille the wider role of sacrifice, signifying a necessary rupture within the self and within the wider social order (Bataille 1985). German philosopher and critical theorist Walter Benjamin (1892-1940) understands the imperative democratic function of separation that technology affords between the art object and its aura, allowing film as social apparatus both to produce and fuse the heterogeneity of its audience. This same separation is equally open to manipulation in the interests of capital and fascism, moreover (Benjamin 2008). For Russian literary critic Mikhail Bakhtin (1895-1975), words are the medium that is the most sensitive and complicated refraction of socioeconomic governance. He finds through French Renaissance scholar François Rabelais (c.1494-1553) a new conception of value that liberates habitual representational matrices and separates false unities to forge new unexpected relations of objects and phenomena that are born in the verbal (Bakhtin 1981). The written word precedes the spoken word as virus erupting from diseased apes, according to American author and artist William S. Burroughs (1914-1997) who calls for the cutting up and replaying of audio material to subvert the political order and create associations that stick. Sound is separated from its source and words fragmented and disconnected so that only the tone of voice remains (Burroughs 2005). The dispositif fully emerges as a theoretical concept in the 1970s, notably within French film theory, and successively in the writings of French philosopher Michel Foucault (1926-1984) for whom the dispositif is the strategic connection or system of relations between heterogeneous elements (Foucault 1980, pp.194–195). Foucault’s dispositif is dynamic, productive and panoptic in relation to historically specific power structures and knowledge. The productive aspect of the Foucauldian dispositif manifests itself in a regulatory capacity as through, for example, governmentality and biopolitics that produce new rationalities for population control and the regulated production of life itself. French philosopher Gilles Deleuze (1925-1995) transcribes the outwardly regulatory nature of Foucault’s dispositif into a function of ingested, immanent control through which creativity, transformation and production combine to produce the new, the current. Referring specifically to curves of enunciation as key dimensions of the social apparatus, Deleuze emphasises the combined autopoietic and controlling powers of apparatuses (1992b, p.164). In his essay ‘Postscript on the Societies of Control’ Deleuze expands on what he considers to be a metamorphosis from Foucault’s societies of discipline into societies of ingested or immanent control. He attributes William Burroughs with naming ‘Control’ as the regime of this ‘new monster’ in which ‘liberating and enslaving forces confront one another’, and in which individuals have become ‘dividuals, and masses, samples, data, markets, or banks’ (Deleuze 1992a, pp.4–5). We will return to Burroughs through the three other male Bs of Bataille, Benjamin and Bakhtin. In ‘Sacrificial Mutilation and the Severed Ear of Vincent Van Gogh’ (1930), Bataille discusses the case of Gaston F. who severed his own finger in an act of automutilation, apparently following the influence of Dutch painter (1853- 1890) Van Gogh’s auricular automutilation. Bataille suggests that this implied causality is coincidental; he proposes that: Once a decision is reached with the violence necessary for the tearing off of a finger, it entirely eludes the literary suggestions that may have preceded it; the order that the teeth had to carry out so brusquely must appear as a need that no one could resist’ (Bataille 1985, p.62). Bataille suggests that the irresistible need produced by the external force manifest in the coincidence of the two automutilative gestures assumes a ‘strange freedom’ that anaesthetises the requisite pain accompanying such actions. Bataille moves through the specificities of Van Gogh’s ‘overwhelming relations...maintained with the sun’ conveyed through a reading of the relations of objects in his paintings to arrive at the abstracted theme, relation, or mechanism of sacrifice. This allows him to deploy ‘the return of the theme in a new system of relations’. He questions the validity of his own mechanism that makes an associative leap between seemingly singular mad gestures and veritable social functions, and answers his question with a litany of diverse, global and transhistorical cultural examples that involve some form of mutilation to the self or others, including a detailed account of various practices of the ‘ablation of a finger’ (Bataille 1985, p.66-69). The apotheosis is reached when sacrificer and sacrificed eventually become one in the form of the self-sacrificing god, in a self-reflexive co-mingling of elements. From this conflated position, Bataille is confidently able to relate Gaston F.’s finger to Prometheus’ famous liver. Having completed the association, Bataille further abstracts the sacrificial mechanism to its essence as standing for any form of ‘radical alteration of the person which can be indefinitely associated with any other alteration that arises in collective life’ (such as the death of a relative, initiation rites, harvest rituals, et cetera). It has the power to ‘liberate the heterogeneous elements and to break the habitual homogeneity of the individual’ such as in the gesture of vomiting communal food. For in its essence, sacrifice signifies the rejection of that which had been appropriated by a person or a group, and the ‘horrifying eruption’ entailed in sacrifice or automutilation effects the liberating ‘disgorging of a force that threatens to consume’. Bataille continues: The one who sacrifices is free – free to indulge in a similar disgorging, free, continuously identifying with the victim, to vomit his own being just as he has vomited a piece of himself or a bull, in other words free to throw himself suddenly outside of himself, like a gall or an aissaouah (Bataille 1985, p.70). Sacrifice signifies for Bataille, then, both a rupture within the self and within the social order, and at the same time a necessary function to maintain that order, or system of relations.2 In this respect, Bataille’s correlation of a non-teleological violent gesture to a function of social significance can be connected to the concept of the protosemantic, signifying on the one hand a ‘prestage to linguistic meaning’ (Leinfellner 2001, p.227), and on the other, the creation of ‘associations between words, or between words and objects, that are initially arbitrary (such as a new item of vocabulary and the object it refers to) that will come to be incorporated into a semantic network as a function of repeated exposure’ (Seel 2011, p.2714). The convulsive singular act, the meaningless bloody severance – as metonymic protosemantic utterance – thus enters a new, transhistorical system of relations, and becomes discourse. In his famous 1936 essay, ‘The Work of Art in the Age of Its Technological Reproducibility’, Walter Benjamin describes as an act of separation the effect of technology on the art object. Technological reproduction not only separates the art object from its aura – an effect produced by the here and now of the singular work of art, its unique existence in a particular place – but becomes a symptomatic process extending far beyond the realm of art. For Benjamin, reproductive technology such as film enacts a ‘destructive, cathartic...liquidation of the value of tradition in the cultural heritage’ (Benjamin 2008, p.22). This becomes an exhortation for the masses to take control of technology in order to release themselves from their ‘enslavement to the powers of the apparatus’ and not only preserve their humanity, but also to take heed from the film actor who places that apparatus ‘in the service of his triumph’ (Benjamin 2008, p.31). Just as Bataille’s severed finger becomes 2 Julia Kristeva later names this function ‘abjection’ (Kristeva 1982). a unified symbol of (self)sacrifice and social cohesion, the unified fragments of the film actor’s estranged performance are reflected in an apparatic mirror that is detachable and transportable, to arrive in front of the masses. The balance now tips in the relation of control from the alienated actor awakening an empowered audience, to the cultish corruption of fascism through film capital. Benjamin also anticipates here the rise of the ‘prosumer/produser’, suggesting that film audiences have become quasi-expert, that any person can lay claim to being filmed, and that readers have turned into writers with an explosion of opportunities for writing and publishing through both the work situation and media. Benjamin also anticipates a mode of post-Fordist human capital when he claims that ‘work itself is given a voice’. Actors, he suggests, are no longer actors, but people portraying themselves (2008, p.34). Likewise, within a neoliberal economy, as workers we portray ourselves, described thus by cultural theorist Michel Feher (France, 1956-): ‘my human capital is me, as a set of skills and capabilities that is modified by all that affects me and all that I effect’ (Feher 2009, p.26). The explosion by film of the prison-world of the everyday offers a new relation of the masses to the world: in its micro-specificity, temporal-material distortion and topographical promiscuity, film offers new perspectives onto that world, as well as a potential outside. It provides an alternative model, a new law: a new dispositif. Benjamin declares: ‘The most important social function of film is to establish equilibrium between human beings and the apparatus’ (2008, p.37). Film, as apparatus and social index, both produces and fuses the heterogeneity of its audience. The novel performs for Mikhail Bakhtin a similar function as the film for Walter Benjamin in defining relations between individuals and society. For Bakhtin, literary texts are utterances tied to particular social subjects in specific historical situations, presenting a form of communication and knowledge. The novel is singled out from other genres by Bakhtin for its ability to combine in a single space an extraordinary variety of social languages and, as such, play a dynamic role in shaping, rather than merely reflecting, cultural history. From his analysis of the novel, Bakhtin extracts a broader philosophy of ‘novelness’, at the heart of which remains the principle of dialogue. Just as a novel is intertextual as both an encounter with plural forms of dialogue and texts outside of itself, so novelness functions as a form of dispositif in its conjoining of heterogeneous orders of experience, each with its own discourse, in dialogue with one another. Bakhtin saw the individual as being striated by the social, with the relation between inner and outer speech, psyche or world less as a dialectical opposition, than differing positions on a shared continuum under the same jurisdiction, namely words: ‘the medium which is the most sensitive and at the same time the most complicated refraction of socioeconomic governance’ (Voloshinov 1976, p.87).3 Authorship and perception, then, are forms of governance with the power to attribute more or less subjectivity to characters and, within our dialogic relations with others, we author ourselves. "I" is an empty shifter, a shared tool or dispositif that is passed around like the single shared eye of the fates in Greek mythology (Holquist 1990, p.28). It is Renaissance author Rabelais who conducts, according to Bakhtin, the ‘most remarkable experiment to re- establish the fully exteriorised individual’, and who provides a radical model of the chronotope, a particular literary spatio-temporal apparatus. In his novel The Life of Gargantua and Pantagruel (c.1532-c.1564), Rabelais establishes a new relationship to value wherein everything considered to be of value has the power to expand spatially and temporally. This underlying category of growth is in direct contradistinction to the dominant feudal and religious world view where values are presented in direct opposition to spatial- 3 It is contested that Bakhtin published a number of works under the names of different authors, Voloshinov being one of them. See Holquist 1990, p.193. temporal reality (the great being symbolised by the small, the eternal by the moment, et cetera). Bakhtin attributes this turn with a conscious desire by Rabelais to purge the spatial and temporal world of transcendent remnants, so as to create a new chronotope for a ‘new, whole and harmonious man, and for new forms of human communication’ (Bakhtin 1981, p.168). Rabelais’ idiosyncratic methodology involves the destruction of all ordinary ties and ‘habitual matrices’ of things and ideas so as to create instead unexpected matrices and connections, with surprising logical links ("allogisms") and linguistic connections, including false connections and associations. Bakhtin describes Rabelais’ rationale as liberatory and revolutionary, emphasising the materiality of his method: It is necessary to liberate all these objects and permit them to enter into the free unions that are organic to them, no matter how monstrous these unions might seem from the point of view of ordinary, traditional associations. These objects must be permitted to touch each other in all their living corporeality, and in the manifold diversity of the values they bear. It is necessary to devise new matrices between objects and ideas that will answer to their real nature, to once again line up and join together those things that had been falsely disunified and distanced from one another – as well as to disunite those things that had been falsely brought into proximity. On the basis of this new matrix of objects, a new picture of the world necessarily opens up – a world permeated with an internal and authentic necessity (1981, p.169). In order to perform this process of demolition and reconstruction Rabelais builds a series of intersecting yet widely varying themes that centre around bodily acts. The intense corporeality of the series offers for Bakhtin a new positive material relation of the body to the world, a concrete reality that Rabelais presents in great complexity and depth in order to destroy the medieval ascetic other-worldly ideology and the incumbent symbolic abyss it created between word and body, which was perceived solely under the sign of decay and strife. Rabelais thereby restores not only a language and meaning to the body but also simultaneously returns a materiality and reality to language and meaning (Bakhtin 1981, p.171). Rabelais combines in one dynamic, living and grotesque image of bodily deformities and perversions, a new and unexpected matrix of objects and phenomena that, Bakhtin stresses, are born in the verbal: ‘Whatever direct contact these objects and phenomena had with the body was brought about, first and foremost, via a verbal matrix, their verbal compacting into a single context, a single phrase, a single compound word’ (Bakhtin 1981, p.176). Rabelais deploys this new matrixial paradigm structurally to undermine language in its representation of a fixed world view, making use of the ‘special logic of profanity’ to construct through an unbridled phantasmagoria a verbal series of objects that, as Bakhtin states, are in themselves reasonable, but become monstrous when linked together. Both Bataille and Burroughs would certainly appreciate Rabelais’ highly detailed sausage series with its grotesque obsession with ratified genealogical sequence, as recounted by Bakhtin: Starting with the shape of a sausage, Rabelais proves, relying on various authorities, that the serpent that bit Eve was a sausage, that the ancient giants who had stormed Mount Olympus and who had tried to pile Mount Pelion on Ossa were half sausage. Melusine was also half sausage, as was Erichthonius, the inventor of the hearse and the cart ... etc, etc (1981, p.181). Other such unexpected matrices include the theme of arse wiping in the defecation series that enumerates and qualifies the various methods and items used, including a March cat, a basket and a baby goose. William Burroughs, in The Electronic Revolution (1970), considers the word itself as flesh, as a virus and agent of control. He postulates that, contrary to general assumption, the spoken word, as we know it, came after the written word. It is ‘WRITING’ that forms the crucial distinction between humans and other animals, exclusively allowing them to communicate remotely through time and space (Burroughs 2005, p.4). In this respect, the written word is the dispositif that produces colonisation through language. Burroughs’ theory of the word as virus, which he derives from a scientist ‘who really thinks about his subject instead of merely correlating data’ (2005, p.5), stems back to an evolutionary moment when a deadly virus contorted the throats of apes allowing for the genetic conveyance (through sexual frenzy brought on by the virus itself) and henceforth perceptibly benign assimilation of speech (Burroughs 2005, p.6). As the conjoining of word and image, the written word is the virus that makes the spoken word possible. The written word is the ground, we could say, for the figure of the spoken word. Humans are separated from animals through the dispositif of the written word, which itself is conjoined to the flesh of humans: the word as virus is not an allegorical comparison, as Burroughs states, ‘a virus IS a very small unit of word and image’ (2005, p.7). Burroughs takes a tiger’s leap to conjoin the origins of written history, the hieroglyph, the Garden of Eden, and Mayan sacrifice, with the Watergate scandal to demonstrate how such units of word and image ‘can be biologically activated to act as communicable virus strains’ (2005, p.7). In the same way that Benjamin exhorts the masses to expropriate film capital and the medium as a whole to avert fascist manipulation, so The Electronic Revolution is a call to arms by Burroughs to rewrite history by literally intervening in the mass media using everyday technology which does not require ‘God or super technicians from outer space’ to operate and to change the news through a heterogeneous mix of everyday media. He writes: ‘Playing back recordings of an accident can produce another accident. ... Riot sound effects can produce an actual riot in a riot situation. RECORDED POLICE WHISTLES WILL DRAW COPS. RECORDED GUNSHOTS, AND THEIR GUNS ARE OUT’ (2005, pp.10–13). Sound becomes disconnected from its source. Rumours fly; people don’t know where they heard it but they heard it; words themselves can be disconnected so that only the tone of voice remains. Scrambling messages is also a powerful ideological weapon, capable of imposing thought control on a mass scale, and inducing in the subject the impression that the message contains, writes Burroughs, ‘his very own ideas which just occurred to him, which indeed it did’ (2005, p.16). On the contrary, recognition or suspicion by the subject of the ‘extraneous origins of voices that are literally hatching out in his head’ will induce paranoid psychosis, which returns us to Bataille’s case of Gaston F. who interpreted as a scrambled message from Van Gogh a command from the sun to bite off his own finger. Therefore cut/up and playback techniques produce not only ideological effects, but also material symptoms. The line between user and used remains permeable in the datocratic landscape, however, and the very conception of emancipated participation can soon become the shackled mantra of unthinking gestures that serve merely to replicate the communal bodily virus, as Burroughs suggests: If you want to, scramble yourself out there, every stale joke, fart, chew, sneeze, and stomach rumble. If your trick no work you better run. Everybody doing it, they all scramble in together and the populations of the earth just better settle down a nice even brown colour. Scrambles is the democratic way, the way full cellular representation. Scrambles is the American way (2005, p.24). The idea of taking control of apparatuses can merely embed one further within the apparatic system. Therefore, Burroughs proposes an intervention in language itself. He calls for an eradication of the definite article: THE, which denies the possibility of any other, and should be replaced by A. Further, Burroughs proposes a language comprised of tones, hieroglyphs and silences that will ‘delete these virus mechanisms and make them impossible of formulation in the language’ (2005, p.35). In this respect Burroughs presents a model in which, through a self-reflexive enunciative auto-cannibalism, data might enact its own liberation from itself. Bataille would configure this as a self-vomiting or self-sacrifice. And Bakhtin would reject any firm positioning or inward/outward (endo/ecto) directional impulse, suggesting that we are already in continually variable positions on the spectrum between unique utterances and the social realm; we are our own vomit, our own media and, as such, affective material ‘infomantic’ entities within the datocratic landscape.4 Moreover, given that there is no notional outside to this landscape, we might rather clear within it a greater space for the protosemantic, as a way both to destabilise and materially reconfigure more imaginative value relations. 4 I explore the concept of ‘infomanticism’, a conjoining of information and Romanticism that reflects on and through our narcissistic mediation with sublime data, in QGJCPLB (Frearson 2013) References Bakhtin, M.M., 1981. The dialogic imagination: four essays, Austin, Tex: University of Texas Press. Bataille, G., 1985. Visions of excess: selected writings, 1927-1939, Minneapolis, Minn: University of Minnesota Press. Burroughs, W.S., 2005. The Electronic Revolution, ubu.com: ubuclassics. Deleuze, G., 1992a. ‘Postscript on the Societies of Control’. October, 59, pp.3–7. Deleuze, G., 1992b. ‘What is a dispositif?’ In Michel Foucault, Philosopher: Essays. New York: Routledge. Foucault, M., 1980. ‘The Confession of the Flesh’. In C. Gordon, ed. Power/Knowledge: Selected Interviews and Other Writings 1972-1977. Harlow: Longman, pp. 194–195. Frearson, A., 2013. Infomanticism (in QGJCPLB). Available at: https://www.academia.edu/12506288/Infomanticism_in_QGJCPLB_ [Accessed February 25, 2016]. Holquist, M., 1990. Dialogism: Bakhtin and his world, London: Routledge. Kristeva, J., 1982. Powers of horror: an essay on abjection, New York: Columbia University Press. Leinfellner, P.D.W., 2001. Towards a Bayesian Theory of Self-Organization, Societal Evolution, Creativity, and the Role of Randomizers in the Societal Evolution. In J. Götschl, ed. Evolution and Progress in Democracies. Theory and Decision Library. Springer Netherlands, pp. 211–238. Available at: http://link.springer.com/chapter/10.1007/978- 94-017-1504-1_11 [Accessed February 24, 2016]. Seel, N.M., 2011. Encyclopedia of the Sciences of Learning, Springer Science & Business Media. Voloshinov, V.N., 1976. Freudianism: a Marxist critique, New York: Academic Press. 
work_xwtt3tc7e5am5hpb5cv3cvvyfe	----	s o u r c e : h t t p s : / / d o i . o r g / 1 0 . 7 8 9 2 / b o r i s . 1 1 7 7 4 1 | d o w n l o a d e d : 6 . 4 . 2 0 2 1 107 The Physical Tourist Peripatetic Highlights in Bern Ann M. Hentschel* This tour of significant scientific sites in Bern uses the local legacy of its most illustrious scientists, Albert Einstein (1879–1955) and Fritz Houtermans (1903–1966), as its guiding thread through the old town and the university district. Key words: Albert Einstein; Fritz Houtermans; Aimé Forster; Paul Gruner; Heinrich Greinacher; University of Bern; Naturforschende Gesellschaft in Bern; Swiss science; meteorology; metrology; relativity theory. Inroduction The capital city of the Swiss Canton of Bern and of the Swiss Confederation is nestled in a narrow loop of the Aare river, at the foot of the Alps. The old town, founded around 1191, is well preserved despite a devastating fire in 1405.** Major industries of the region developed under the constraints of modest domestic markets, high trans- portation costs, and protectionist legislation across national borders. Switzerland thus found its niche in higher-end markets, such as chocolate making, engine building, instruments, fine textiles, and chemicals or pharmaceuticals. My tour past historically significant scientific sites in Bern will use the local legacy of its most illustrious resi- dents, Albert Einstein (1879–1955), who lived there from 1902–1909, and Fritz Houter- mans (1903–1966), who lived there from 1952–1966, as its guiding thread through the old town and the university district. Place names in italics mark stops along the tour. Phys. perspect. 7 (2005) 107–129 1422-6944/05/010107–23 DOI 10.1007/s00016-004-0232-0 * Ann M. Hentschel is translator of the correspondence volumes of The Collected Papers of Albert Einstein and is currently employed by the Institute for the History and Philosophy of Science at the University of Bern to write the guide for a city tour of Einstein’s old haunts in Bern for the coming jubilee of special relativity in 2005. For the historical companion guidebook, see Hentschel and Grasshoff, Albert Einstein (ref. 4) and the website <www.einstein2005.ch>. ** The fire destroyed some 650 half-timber houses between the prison tower and the cathedral in the middle of the old town. For a map, click on “sightseeing” at the website <www.berne.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 107 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.108 A Junction in Space and Time There is nothing left of the train station where Albert Einstein arrived in Bern in early February 1902. From the main entrance of the modern station that replaced it you can still see the eastern face of the Burgerspital to your right and the tower of one of Switzerland’s finest baroque places of worship directly ahead of you. The Church of the Holy Ghost, dating from 1729, was the site of some of the first democratic meetings of the Helvetic Republic. Take a left along the thoroughfare Bollwerk for two blocks, up to the corner of Aarbergergasse, and you’ll be at Einstein’s old haunt, the Café Boll- werk, formerly the Brasserie Bollwerk, which was just across the street from his work- place in the Telephone Exchange (figure 1), where the Patent Office relocated in 1907 (the Telephone Exchange building no longer exists). The young theoretical physicist met his private students here for a quick lunchtime study session in philosophy or mathematical physics and occasionally joined his friends in the Patent Office for a mug of beer after hours. A few meetings of his private study group, the Olympia Academy (figure 2), probably also took place here. The original Fig. 1. The Telephone Exchange (center, directly across from the Brasserie Bollwerk at the corner of Aarbergergasse) next to the Old Cavalry Barracks on Äusseres Bollwerk around 1900. The Patent Office was located there between 1907 and 1921. The three large portals of the old train station are just visible in the distance. Source: Anzeiger Region Bern, March 31, 2004, p. 1. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 108 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 109 idea of reading major works by the masters of physics and philosophy came from one of Einstein’s first private pupils, the Rumanian philosophy student Maurice Solovine (1875–1958). When the doctoral candidate in mathematics, Conrad Habicht (1876–1958), joined these convivial dinners, he brought with him a strong element of humor. One day when Einstein was out, Habicht affixed an embossed sign to his apart- ment door that read: “Albert Ritter von Steißbein [Sir Backside], Präsident der Akademie Olympia.” According to Solovine, it had Albert and his Serbian bride and university girlfriend Mileva Marić (1875–1948) in stitches in the hallway.1 The Acade- my’s reading list ranged from natural philosophy to literature. The epistemological issues they often ardently debated were instrumental in forming Einstein’s thinking about such fundamental physical concepts as space and time. Just next door to the Telephone Exchange was the Old Cavalry Barracks. This large and functional building, which was demolished along with the entire block in 1958 to make way for the current railway station, contained the cantonal chemistry laborato- ries as well as the university institutes for mineralogy, geology, zoology, and pharma- ceutics. Since many of the meetings of the local Naturforschende Gesellschaft (Society Fig. 2. The Olympia Academy ca. 1903. Left to right: Conrad Habicht (1876–1958), Maurice Solovine (1875–1958), Albert Einstein (1979–1955). Source: Carl Seelig, Albert Einstein und die Schweiz (Zurich: Europa-Verlag, 1952), p. 65. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 109 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.110 of Natural Scientists) were held there, the young graduate of the Zurich Polytechnic was soon mingling with Bernese Gymnasium (high-school) teachers, naturalists, engi- neers, apothecaries, chemists, medical doctors, and professors, who made up its diverse membership. Thus, in a way, the Café Bollwerk was the professional crossroads of Ein- stein as a young man, where he made the transition from technology to theoretical physics and from private tutoring to academia. Here in Bern the young civil servant became a part-time university teacher as he was developing the new conceptions of space, time, and matter that were to change the face of theoretical physics in the 20th century. One block down Aarbergergasse takes you to Genfergasse (formerly called Anatomiegasse after the university’s anatomy institute at the northern end of the street, which was torn down in 1899). Taking a left you walk past the former site of the Jewish synagogue, a somewhat dilapitated half-timber construction with the character- istic separately accessible upper gallery for women. It was owned by the local Jewish community from 1856 to 1906. Einstein’s first workplace at the next corner thus was not far away from the Bernese heart of his own cultural heritage until the synagogue moved away from downtown to a fine new temple in Mattenhof. On his way to a talk by a member of the Naturforschende Gesellschaft at the Old Cavalry Barracks, Ein- stein walked past the synagogue often enough, but not being a practising Jew, he prob- ably never went inside. The Patent Office The imposing Telegraph Building at Speichergasse 6 (figure 3), built at the turn of the last century in the French renaissance style, also accommodated the Federal Office of Intellectual Property from 1901 to 1907. Commonly abbreviated as the Patent Office, its purpose was to enforce the federal laws pertaining to patents on inventions, copy- rights in the literary and fine arts, and pattern and product trademarks. Its founding Director, Friedrich Haller (1844–1936), was being particularly open-minded when he employed Einstein in June 1902 to fill the post of Technical Expert, Third Class. Qual- ified engineers were usually taken, while Einstein only had a teacher’s diploma in mathematics and physics from the Zurich Polytechnic (Eidgenössische Technische Hochschule, ETH).2 At the turn of the last century, however, machine technology and the transportation and communications industries were in the middle of a boom, so the technical depart- ment at the Patent Office needed new examiners to process the increasing number of patent applications. The Swiss railway was being nationalized and the horse-drawn and steam-driven streetcar system had just recently been converted to electricity; tele- phone communication was at the forefront of the technology of the day.* Although it took Einstein longer than his officemate, the engineer Heinrich Schenk (1872–1938), to advance to Second Class, he eventually became specialized in what Haller said were particularly challenging patent applications in the field of electrotechnology. Einstein’s * The Telecommunications Museum is located at Helvetiastrasse 16; see the website <www.mfk.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 110 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 111 work was not very intellectually demanding for him and soon became tedious, so he began to look around for better opportunities. Besides teaching positions at various Gymnasia and technical colleges, he inquired at the Telegraph Office in the same build- ing, where the pupil he was tutoring in electrotechnology, Lucien Chavan (1868–1942), was working. This time Einstein’s lack of engineering credentials evidently worked against him. He remained at the Patent Office throughout his Bernese period and sur- repticiously grappled with his own theoretical problems after he had speedily dealt with the day’s workload. Einstein’s “civil servant’s formula for success” evidently came from personal experience: “Success (A) equals work (x) plus play (y) plus keep-your- mouth-shut (z): A = x + y + z.” 3 Gymnasium Science Turning right on Speichergasse, the next major building on the same side of the street is the Städtisches Gymnasium (municipal high school), with its eastern wing at Waisen- hausplatz 30. Einstein was an occasional visitor here as well as at the nearby private parochial school, the Freies Gymnasium, at Nägeligasse 2 (one block farther eastward at the corner of Predigergasse, now headquarters of the police medical corps). With his Fig. 3. The Federal Office of Intellectual Property was housed in the Telegraph Building from 1901 to 1907. The office Einstein shared with Heinrich Schenk was at the left on the third floor. Source: H.J. Wolf, Erinnerungen an Albert Einstein (Bern: Amt für geistiges Eigentum, 1965), p. 11a. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 111 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.112 fellow members of the Society of Natural Scientists, Einstein attended talks with demonstrations in the laboratories of these Gymnasia, frequently delivered by mem- bers of their teaching staffs. Einstein also met a few of these secondary-school teachers privately after work at the Städtisches Gymnasium to tinker in the physics laboratory on the second floor of its eastern wing. Towards the end of his stay in Bern, Einstein began to develop a small electrostatic meter, which he referred to as his “Maschinchen.” His main collaborator on it was Conrad Habicht’s brother Paul (1884–1948), an engineering student, who later placed it on the market. It was unusual for a theoretician of Einstein’s caliber to have such an active interest in technical prac- tice. A characteristic of Swiss society even as late as the turn of the last century was that its civil service – which includes university faculty – was so poorly paid that it was taken as a matter of course that the majority of untenured university teachers would have full-time jobs elsewhere, mainly as secondary-school teachers.* Thus, for lack of fee- paying students in the nascent field of theoretical physics, Paul Gruner (1869–1957), the lecturer of mathematical physics, earned his livelihood at the Freies Gymnasium as a full-time teacher of mathematics, technical drawing, and descriptive geometry for more than a decade, from 1893 to 1904. Even Emil König (1871–1948), Director of the Office of Weights and Measures, taught physics full time at the Stätisches Gymnasium, as had his predecessor. In this environment, it was hardly exceptional for Einstein later to offer courses at the university in the early hours of the morning so that he could hurry down the hill to the Patent Office in time for a full day’s work as a technical expert examining patent applications.4 Einstein’s Old-Town Neighborhood The first right off Nägeligasse takes you past the apartments of Heinrich Schenk at Predigergasse 6 and 10, which he occupied successively in 1903–1904. Schenk, who was hired at the Patent Office at the same time as Einstein, was Einstein’s permanent officemate. Another right on Zeughausgasse takes you to Zeughausgasse 41, the apart- ment of Einstein’s other coworker and close friend, Michele Besso (1873–1955). Besso lived there with his wife and eight-year-old son in 1905, during the crucial period when his neighbor was working on the final touches of his theory of relativity. Besso is expli- citly acknowledged in Einstein’s famous paper, “On the Electrodynamics of Moving Bodies,” for his constructive comments during their daily homeward discussions after work. Our tour continues left from Waisenhausplatz through the Käfigturm, which marks the second of three former city walls. Until 1897 it was the city’s prison tower, confin- ing such troublemakers as rampaging students or Socialist strikemongers. Following Marktgasse to Kornhausplatz, turn right and take the next left to Münstergasse 61. This is the Stadtbibliothek (municipal library), where Einstein did what research he could * This had unfortunate repercussions on the faculty. The university had difficulty attracting high- caliber researchers, particularly in sparsely attended subjects. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 112 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 113 after work during its limited opening hours. It is housed in a former granary built in 1760 that was renovated to serve as a library by the burgher commune of Bern. In 1905–1906 the university library was incorporated into the collection of the Stadtbib- liothek and housed in two newly built wings of the building. The small garden in the courtyard is the last reminant of the old botanical gardens planted by the Society of Natural Scientists in 1804 on the original university grounds, a medieval cloister of the Order of Discalced Friars (Barfüsserkloster). Continuing to Münsterplatz 12, you arrive at the building where the Civil Registry used to be. We can picture Mileva, who had studied physics with Albert at the Zurich Polytechnic, coming out of the building with Albert on January 6, 1903, with their jovial Olympian marriage witnesses Conrad Habicht and Maurice Solovine, immediately in front of the cathedral’s elaborate portal designed by the architect of its famous sister cathedral in Strasbourg. Passing to the right of the cathedral onto the promenade with a view of the river, you will find a meteorological pillar dating from 1873. At the end of the 19th century, meteorological stations were being set up in all major European cities as a public weather service.* This marble pillar, which was designed by the Bernese architect of the Städtisches Gymnasium, Eugen Stettler (1840–1913), was financed by the city on the initiative of the Society of Natural Scientists in 1865. The society donat- ed the original instruments for it: a vessel barometer, a thermometer with Celsius and Réaumur scales, and a hair hygrometer.5 It was mainly the brainchild of the society’s president in 1872–1873, the meteorologist Aimé Forster (1843–1926), who had recent- ly been appointed director of the university’s Physical Institute. Forster was a gifted popularizer of meteorology, organizing public lectures at the close of the 19th century that attracted large audiences filling up to 270 seats. A short walk northward on Kreuzgasse past the Rathaus (city hall) takes you to the former studio of the successful turn-of-the-century portrait photographer Emil Vollen- weider at Postgasse 68. The Einstein couple had their engagement and wedding pho- tographs taken there, and on another occasion the three Olympians also sat there for their group portrait. The building was sold to the city in 1918 but it is still known as the Vollenweider Haus after its former private owner. Taking the next connecting alleyway back to Gerechtigkeitsgasse we turn left to Gerechtigkeitsgasse 32, Einstein’s first bach- elor’s lodgings in Bern in the spring of 1902. There in his furnished room he made the acquaintance of Maurice Solovine, who was one of the first respondants to his adver- tisement as a tutor in mathematics and physics. That summer Einstein moved to cheap- er quarters south of the old town at Thunstrasse 43a (which is no longer in its original state), moving again in the autumn to an attic room at Archivstrasse 8 in the more pleasant neighborhood of Kirchenfeld. The first apartment he officially shared with Mileva, in January 1903, was in a family house at Tillierstrasse 18, just a few blocks away, but that October they decided to move back into town. For this fifth address of Einstein’s we have to go back down Gerechtigkeitsgasse, which becomes Kramgasse, one of the major arcaded shopping streets of the old town * Another one was farther upstream by the Federal Houses of Parliament. Color photographs of all four historic Bernese weather stations can be found at the website <www.wettersaeulen-in- europa.de>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 113 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.114 and dotted with ornate fountains from the 16th century. In those days they were in con- stant use as watering places for workhorses and dogs – Bernese mountain dogs and Saint Bernards in harness – as well as being a regular stop for housemaids and laun- dresses. Until May 1905 Albert and Mileva and their eldest son Hans-Albert, who was born in May 1904, lived in a three-room apartment on the third floor at Kramgasse 49, above a restaurant then called the Brasserie zum Gurten. It is now a museum.* Ein- stein published two major papers while living here: “On a Heuristic Point of View Con- cerning the Production and Transformation of Light,” in which he proposed his light- quantum hypothesis, and “On a New Determination of Molecular Dimensions,” from which he calculated Avogadro’s number, thus offering the first tangible evidence for the atomic theory. A plaque on this building reads: “In this house Albert Einstein in the years 1903–1905 created his fundamental papers on relativity theory”—although he actually published his famous paper after he and Mileva and son Hans-Albert moved to their next residence (which no longer exists) on Besenscheuer Weg, southwest of the fluvial peninsula. Bernese Metrology Just one block away from the Einsteins’ Kramgasse apartment is Bern’s historic clock- tower. The Zytgloggenturm (figure 4) was built around 1218 and marks the first bound- ary of the original old town. After it was seriously damaged in the big fire of 1405, it was no longer used as a prison. The astronomical clock on its eastern face was built by Caspar Brunner from Nürnberg in 1527–1530. The allegorical figures on the tower’s eastern face represent the four stages of life, those on the western face the four seasons. During the second half of the 19th century, the clocktower had the important task of indicating the local Bernese time. The clockworks, including puppets that revolve on the hour, were renovated in 1904. As early as 1874, the Society of Natural Scientists had recommended that the city modernize its timekeeping system and change over to a dozen public electrically driven clocks. The new telegraph and railway networks had made the introduction of a standard time indispensable. Clocks in Zurich, for example, diverged from Bernese clocks by as much as four and a half minutes. You can still see a collection of local standard lengths dating from 1877 attached to the wall in one of the archways of the clocktower.** These were for the convenience of local merchants and their customers and go back to the middle of the 17th century. Standardization of the myriad local Swiss measures first began in earnest during the short-lived Helvetic Republic when a law was passed in 1801 requiring the introduc- tion of the French metric system. Three decades had to elapse, however, before twelve cantons voluntarily signed a concordat in 1835 to institute a uniform Swiss system, which then gradually began to gain general acceptance. * See the website of Das Einstein-Haus: <www.einstein-bern.ch>. ** Aside from two original meter measures, they are replicas of various Swiss and Bernese foot and cord measures made between 1640 and 1769. The originals are on display at the national Historical Museum, just across the Kirchenfeld bridge at Helvetiaplatz 5; see the website <www.bhm.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 114 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 115 The Swiss Federal Constitution of 1848 laid down the jurisdiction for the establish- ment of the Federal Verification Office (Eidgenössische Eichstätte), which eventually came into existence in 1864 in the old treasury building formerly situated a block west- ward from today’s Casinoplatz. If we take Amthausgasse to the Federal Houses of Par- liament, we will have gone past two subsequent locations of the renamed Federal Office of Weights and Measures. Between 1897 and 1907 it was at Amthausgasse 17, then until 1914 it was in the basement of Parliament at Bundesplatz 3. At the turn of the twenti- eth century, it was still preoccupied with making the transition from local scales to the Parisian metric system in accordance with an international convention signed by Switzerland in 1875. Emil König (1871–1948), Director of the Federal Office of Weights and Measures from 1909 to 1932, moved it away from routine verification and enforce- ment, which duties were transferred to private testing stations. The incorporation of electro-technology into its program necessitated another move, in 1914, into a new building in Kirchenfeld at Wildstrasse 3, a street named after its first director, the Pro- Fig. 4. Bernese clocktower, originally the watchtower at the western edge of the old town. Source: Arnold H. Schwengler, Liebes altes Bern. Stadtbilder 1850–1925 (Bern: Buchverlag Verbandsdruckerei, 1975), p. 39. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 115 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.116 fessor of Physics Heinrich Wild (1833–1902).6 This building currently houses Einstein’s former employer, the Swiss Federal Institute of Intellectual Property (Eidgenössisches Institut für geistiges Eigentum). A modern extension of the building, completed in 1958, is now the main entrance at Einsteinstrasse 2. Emil König’s son Hans (b. 1904), who was appointed as Extraordinary Professor of Technical Physics in 1939 and founded the university’s Institute of Applied Physics in 1961, succeeded his father as Director of the Federal Office of Weights and Measures from 1951 to 1969. During his directorship its focus turned to fundamental research on units of measurement and natural constants, which had hitherto been left in the hands of the Physikalisch-Technische Reichsanstalt in Berlin-Charlottenburg, the National Physical Laboratory in Teddington, England, and the National Bureau of Standards in Washington, D.C. In introducing the measurement of light wavelengths, Hans König laid the foundation for later developments in Swiss high-precision metrology. Between 1910 and 1955, the Office’s personnel increased from 3 to 19, and in the following 40 years to over 100. In the mid-1960s the Office was moved to a better-equipped and iso- lated new building complex in Wabern, south of Kirchenfeld. Renamed as the Federal Office of Metrology in 1977, it expanded its functions in subsequent decades to com- ply with European organizations for calibration and accreditation and, since 2001, has been called the Federal Office of Metrology and Accreditation (Metrologie und Akkreditierung Schweiz, metas). Einstein knew both of the Königs, especially the father Emil, who had given a number of talks of particular interest to engineers at the Society of Natural Scientists. That will be our next stop. The Naturforschende Gesellschaft Crossing Bärenplatz we take a left into Spitalgasse to look at the former regular meet- ing place of the Naturforschende Gesellschaft in Bern at Spitalgasse 21. This Society of Natural Scientists was founded in 1786 by Jakob Samuel Wyttenbach (1648–1830), the Vicar of the Church of the Holy Ghost. Its aim was to promote and preserve knowl- edge about Switzerland’s natural resources. Two decades later it affiliated itself with the newly established national association (now the Swiss Academy of Science). By the time Einstein attended his first meeting of the society in 1902, its membership had risen from its original 7 to 144, coming from such disparate professions as publishing, medi- cine, engineering, and teaching. Yet, they all shared a common interest in the natural sciences in the broad sense of the term. Since the society had no premises of its own at the beginning of the last century, it rented the conference hall on the second floor of the former Hotel Storchen at Spital- gasse 21 for its regular fortnightly meetings (this building is currently occupied by the department store Globus). Scientific and technical demonstrations were held either in a laboratory of one of the Gymnasia or in an available auditorium at the University of Bern. Emil König, for instance, conducted experiments on electric current and reso- nance in the chemistry laboratory of the Städtisches Gymnasium in November 1902 and delivered a demonstration lecture on electroacoustical and optical-resonance devices, current-frequency meters, and remote-transmission towers in its physics labo- ratory in December 1903. Einstein was introduced into the society by his colleague and 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 116 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 117 fellow graduate of the Zurich Polytechnic, Joseph Sauter (1871–1961), whose expertise at the Patent Office lay in evaluating applications for devices claiming to exploit per- petual motion. Einstein was welcomed as a new member of the society at its meeting on May 2, 1903, as “mathematician at the Patent Office.” At that meeting he heard a talk on atmospheric electricity by the lecturer of theoretical physics Paul Gruner (1869–1957), who later became his mentor at the University of Bern. In December 1903 Einstein presented the only talk at the society of that fiscal year on physics proper. His talk, on “The Theory of Electromagnetic Waves,” probably touched on wireless telegraphy and Maxwell’s electromagnetic theory of light, which had been the topic of discussion at an earlier meeting on November 7. Theoretical physics was still in its infancy but was nurtured substantially by Einstein’s contributions at this time. He delivered a second talk in March 1907, “On the Nature of Motions of Microscopically Small Particles Suspended in a Liquid,” which reiterated his new method of determining molecular dimensions that he had published in 1905, the same year as his special theory of relativity. The society had to wait until 1911 for Einstein to deliver a talk on relativity theory, however, and then it was before its affiliate in Zurich. In 1914 he also gave a preview of his new theory of gravitation in Zurich. The Bernese society finally found a permanent meeting place in 1934 in the conference facilities in the then-new building of the Natural History Museum in Kirchenfeld.* The Bernese society benefited from the researches and resources of the local acad- emic institutes and medical clinics. The physiologist Theodor Kocher (1841–1917), for instance, was awarded the Nobel Prize in Medicine for1909 for his research on the thy- roid gland. The society, in turn, served teachers both as a publishing organ and as a point of convergence for theoreticians, experimentalists, and technicians. Physics had a decidedly subordinate role in the Naturforschende Gesellschaft at the beginning of the 20th century. Nevertheless, it was an ideal forum for the exchange of ideas dating back to the time of the university’s star mathematician, Ludwig Schläfli (1814–1895), the founder of multidimensional geometry. His importance began to be appreciated only after the posthumous publication of his major work on the theory of continuous man- ifolds in 1901. The physicist-historian Viktor Gorgé (b. 1931) has given a frank assess- ment of the climate for the exact sciences in Bern during the first half of the twentieth century: But neither this society nor the university kept pace with the professionization process, which was particularly conspicuous in the exact sciences. So the university just as the society sank to mere provincial importance with regard to this discipline for various reasons. One of the reasons was not least the notable circumstance that the chair for physics was filled for more than 50 years, precisely in the critical peri- od between 1870 to 1920, by a scholar who – as far as we can judge – was more a nat- ural scientist of the old school than a physicist according to new standards of the profession characteristic of the exact sciences.7 * This museum at Bernastrasse 15 has a fine collection of alpine minerals; see the website <www.nmbe.unibe.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 117 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.118 University Physics The scholar alluded to above was Aimé Forster (1843–1926), Director of the Physical Institute and Observatory, who chose to develop the field of meteorology that his pre- decessor, Heinrich Wild (1833–1902), had established.8 As Professor of Physics and Astronomy from 1858 to 1868, Wild had embarked on this field partly for lack of prop- er astronomical equipment at the former wooden observatory, which was built in 1822 under the direction of the Professor of Mathematics and Physics Johann Friedrich Trechsel (1776–1849). Forster essentially eliminated practical astronomy from the cur- riculum on the persuasive justification that Wild’s meteorological program was unique among Swiss university observatories. The building that housed the physics department where Einstein submitted his post- doctoral Habilitation thesis in theoretical physics in June 1907 was Forster’s so-called Tellurian Observatory (figure 5), which was built in 1877. It was situated on top of the formerly fortified city redoubt, the Grosse Schanze, prompting the now obsolete street name of Sternwartstrasse. It was right next to where the palacial main building of the University of Bern, completed in 1903, commands a fabulous view over the rooftops of the old town and of the snowcapped Bernese alpine range. Continue down Spitalgasse past the railway station and the Church of the Holy Ghost and take the next major right across the bridge to the university district, called Länggasse. Fig. 5. The Tellurian Observatory around 1900, which was demolished in 1958 to make way for the new science building. Source: Arnold H. Schwengler, Liebes altes Bern. Stadtbilder 1850–1925 (Bern: Buchverlag Verbandsdruckerei, 1975), p. 96. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 118 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 119 The Tellurian Observatory was built on the foundations of the wooden barracks of 1812 on the highest point of the “great redoubt,” then called the Hohliebi Bastion. Thus, all subsequent official astronomical and geodesic measurements were able to continue using the triangulation origin established at that time. A memorial stone (fig- ure 6) set into the floor of its “meridian room” was transferred to the corresponding spot in the building that replaced the observatory in 1963. It is now a few meters lower than its original site,* in an inaccessible courtyard of the Institute of Exact Sciences at Sidlerstrasse 5 (figure 7).9 Besides functioning as a meteorological and seismological station (since 1878 Forster was also a member of the Swiss Seismological Commission), the Tellurian Observatory housed the director’s residence on its bel étage and had laboratories, lecturing facilities, Fig. 6. The memorial stone of the original Swiss triangulation zero point. Source: Verdun, “Zwei Jahrhunderte” (ref. 9), p. 11 (Archiv swisstopo, Bern-Wabern). * Satellite technology has obviated the need for triangulation points in the line of sight.The national origin was redesignated in 1995, for the sake of convenience, to Zimmerwald, 10 kilometers south of Bern, where the university’s research observatory is currently located. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 119 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.120 and an instrument collection – a Physical Cabinet. The physics department finally got an auditorium of its own here. At its former location on the old campus (next to the library in the old town, where the Kultur-Casino now stands), the Physical Institute was housed directly above the chemistry laboratory. The young Professor Forster used to complain bitterly about having to shut all of the windows in the cramped, permanently damp old rooms in an effort to limit damage to his precision instruments caused by noxious fumes from the chemistry laboratory below. Ironically, it turned out that Forster’s Tellurian Observatory was ill-suited to his agenda of seismographic and geomagnetic measure- ments, owing to disturbing vibrations from the passing traffic. As far as the physics curriculum was concerned, Forster’s lectures reportedly were clearly structured but firmly rooted in the classical tradition. Among the registered stu- dents, few sought a true education in physics; most were majors in medicine or were in the teacher-training program, of which Forster was the longtime head of the national board. Before 1910 the annual output of doctorates in all of the exact sciences at the University of Bern never reached ten. Physics was in a state of transition, shaking off its shackles to the mathematics department. Thus, Einstein’s submission of his papers on relativity and light quanta in 1907 in lieu of a Habilitation thesis was a risky move. In those days it was more the exception than the rule for any European physics depart- ment to welcome his ideas. Einstein therefore was lucky to have the support of a dynamic and upcoming member of the university faculty, Paul Gruner (1869–1957, fig- ure 8).* Among the dozen physicists at Swiss universities at the time, Gruner was the only one actively pursuing theoretical research.10 Fig. 7. Sketch of the Physical Institute and Institute of Exact Sciences, 1822–1971, and top view of the latter indicating the historic national triangulation zero point on the Grosse Schanze, now Sidlerstrasse 5. Source: Verdun, “Zwei Jahrhunderte” (ref. 9), p. 9. * Gruner had just been appointed Extraordinary Professor of Theoretical and Mathematical Physics in 1906, so he was only a junior member of the jury deciding on Einstein’s application for permission to teach (Habilitation) at the University of Bern. Nonetheless, he managed to pull Einstein’s application through, even though Einstein’s theories were still considered highly controversial. The intercession of Einstein’s doctoral supervisor in Zurich, Professor Alfred Kleiner, probably played a decisive role. See Schulmann, “Einstein” (ref. 10), p. 22. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 120 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 121 Although Gruner initially followed the meteorological tradition of the physics department in his choice of dissertation topic, he introduced fresh impetus into its cur- riculum. Throughout his career, his courses on theoretical physics reflected the latest findings of the day, lecturing on radioactivity in 1904, relativity theory as early as 1908, and quantum theory in 1927. Gruner, in fact, was the driving force behind the institu- tionalization of theoretical physics in Bern after 1911. He was also an able populariz- er. In 1910 he published an elementary exposition of the theory of relativity in the Mit- teilungen of the Naturforschende Gesellschaft and in 1922 a textbook on the subject. He thus acted as an effective counterweight to the anatomist Hans Strasser (1852–1927), who as president of the society had welcomed Einstein as a new member in 1903, but who became a vociferous antirelativist after 1916. Einstein’s Habilitation thesis at the University of Bern was accepted in 1908; it was on the “Consequences for the Constitution of Radiation of the Energy Distribution Law of Blackbody Radiation,” and probably elaborated on his light-quantum hypoth- Fig. 8. Franz Rudolf Paul Gruner (1869–1957) taught courses in theoretical physics at the Univerity of Bern from 1894 until his retirement in 1939. Source: Flückiger, Albert Einstein (ref. 3), p. 101. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 121 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.122 esis of 1905. His inaugural lecture on February 27, 1908, was “On the Limit of the Valid- ity of Classical Thermodynamics.” The next two academic terms he offered lectures on “The Molecular Theory of Heat” and on “Radiation Theory” (the latter in the main building of the university at Hochschulstrasse 4, figure 9) to a couple of auditors – who with but a single exception were his personal friends and colleagues in the Patent Office. Experimental Resurrection Forster’s successor as Director of the Physical Institute in 1924 was the experimental physicist and trained concert pianist Heinrich Greinacher (1880–1974, figure 10), who had a knack for inventing ingenious devices and instruments with the limited resources that were available to him. He constructed an early ionization chamber, and his volt- age multiplier of 1926 became an important component in particle accelerators.11 His original instrument is part of the Physical Institute’s collection, some of which is on dis- play by the main staircase of the science building at Sidlerstrasse 5. There also is a bust of Einstein in its central hallway. After the Second World War, the Bernese government, swept up in the global wave of enthusiasm for nuclear energy, finally began to consider physics as a worthwhile investment, and the fortunes of the exact sciences in Bern finally turned around. Thus, in 1952 a physicist of the first order, Friedrich (Fritz) Georg Houtermans (1903–1966, figure 11),12 was attracted to Bern from Göttingen with the prospect of heading a mod- Fig. 9. At the end of the 19th century there used to be a stairway to the university’s main building at the top of the Grosse Schanze. Source: A. Etter and F. Rogger, ed., 100 Jahre Hauptgebäude Universität Bern (Bern: University of Bern, 2003), p. 30. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:51 Uhr Seite 122 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 123 ern department of experimental physics in a state-of-the-art science building.* Houter- mans had completed his Ph.D. degree in 1927 at the University of Göttingen and dur- ing the next decade had made fundamental contributions to theoretical nuclear physics, the theory of stellar reactions, the development of electron microscopy, and other fields of research. In 1941 he proposed a means of producing element 94 (pluto- nium).** After the end of the war, he returned to Göttingen, working on neutron physics and on methods to determine the age of rocks. Fig. 10. Heinrich Greinacher (1880–1974) was Professor of Physics at the University of Bern from 1924 to 1954. Source: Scandola, et al., Hochschulgeschichte Berns (ref. 7) p. 335. * Eduardo Amaldi notes about Houtermans’s choice of Bern over one or two alternatives: “Per- haps his remark that his decision was biased towards Bern because this was the town where Albert Einstein did his famous work at the beginning of this century, was meant only half jok- ingly.” See Amaldi, “The adventurous life,” (ref. 12), p. 665. ** Between 1927 and 1937, Houtermans worked in Göttingen, Berlin, London, and Kharkov, and in December 1937, although he had been a member of the German Communist Party since the 1920s, he was arrested in Moscow by the NKVD (the People’s Commissariat of Internal Affairs), imprisoned, and tortured. His wife Charlotte neé Riefenstahl , who also received her Ph.D. degree 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 123 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.124 In 1952 Houtermans wrote to the Dutch physicist Hendrick Casimir (1909–2000) from Bern: “If you want to see an authentic early-twentieth-century laboratory, come and visit me. But you have to come soon, for I am going to change all that.” 13 He founded the internationally renowned Berner Schule whose focus was on applications of radioactivity to the geosciences, astrophysics, and cosmochemistry. Judging from the number of his publications and students he had in Bern, this was his most productive period, despite incurring a disability following a fall in 1962. A few of his coauthored publications were on such topics as cosmic radiation, solar neutrinos, the maser condi- tion in molecular spectra, and health hazards of radioactivity. In 1953, based on his ear- lier research on the age of uranium, Houtermans estimated the age of the Earth to be (4.5 ± 0.3) × 109 years. in physics at the University of Göttingen in 1927 and whom he had married in 1930, managed to get away to England with their two children, Giovanna and Jan, from where she made extra- ordinary efforts to get him released, but to no avail. He was not released until April 1940 – and then into the hands of the Gestapo. Only the courageous efforts of Max von Laue (1879–1960) secured his release from the Gestapo prison in Berlin and, in January 1941, obtained a position for him in a private laboratory in Lichterfelde near Berlin where he worked during the war. Fig. 11. The founder of the “Berner Schule,” Friedrich (Fritz) Georg Houtermans (1903–1966). Source: Landrock, “Houtermans” (ref. 12), p. 187. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 124 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 125 One of Houtermans’s former students, Hans Oeschger (1927–1998), described Houtermans’s lectures in general physics as difficult to follow and error-prone but filled with brilliant comparisons to illuminate the underlying physical mechanisms.14 Oeschger and Houtermans developed a sensitive particle counter that became the cen- terpiece of their carbon-dating laboratory, the first one in Switzerland. In 1963 Oeschger became head of a new department of climatology and environmental physics at Bern. Houtermans’s boisterous and risqué sense of humor was legendary. Friedrich Bege- mann (b. 1927), one of his graduate students, tells the story that when the Physical Insti- tute was still housed in the Tellurian Observatory Houtermans occasionally led his “boys” down into the stairwell to wobble the sandstone pillar that was used as the Earth’s axis in practical exercises, shouting, “Let’s go and shake Switzerland a little!” In 1957 the cosmochemist Begemann was the first to determine the age of a meteorite by exposure to cosmic rays; he later became Director of the Max Planck Institute for Chemistry in Mainz. Another of Houtermans’s mischievous pranks was to “borrow” the fire hoses for a dousing after an evening at the pub, which brought down the wrath of the building supervisor. His saving excuse was that he was carrying out an emer- gency drill against radioactive contamination. Life in Länggasse Our next stop is the former guesthouse Pension Berna in which Houtermans stayed in the university district of Länggasse when he first arrived in Bern in 1952. Follow Sidler- strasse back down through Falkenplatz to Schanzeneckstrasse 17. The Pension Berna was run by the widow Emma Knuchel-Beyeler and her married sister Luise Vogt.* Coincidentally, it also is the building in which one of Einstein’s senior colleagues at the Patent Office, Friedrich Blau, lived until 1904. In the chicken coop at the Blaus’s sub- sequent residence in Muri, Einstein set up one of Bern’s first homemade antennas for receiving Morse signals from Paris. The Eiffel Tower, constructed for the World Fair of 1889, had just been turned into a transmission station at the instigation of Henri Poin- caré (1854–1912).15 Returning to Länggassstrasse, turn left and go to the Simplex building at Läng- gassstrasse 7.** When the Tellurian Observatory was demolished in 1958, Houter- mans’s Physical Institute was moved there temporarily. Physicists and applied mathe- maticians shared this former factory until 1961 when the new science building was completed (figure 12). Take the next right at Hallerstrasse, and then take a left at Gesellschaftsstrasse and go to the end to Gesellschaftsstrasse 81. At the beginning of * Friedrich Begemann remembered one of the first evenings at the Pension Berna at supper time. Serving the hot soup, the motherly matron cautioned in good Bernese: “’s isch heiss“ (to an out- of-towner, the colloquial slurring together of the words sounds like a rude German word). To which Houtermans quipped to his fellow boarders, “The Bernese have a peculiar way of say- ing ‘bon appetit’.” See Von Buttlar, Leonium (ref. 14), p. 32. ** The stationers Schreibbücherfabrik Simplex AG Bern is now located in Zollikofen. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 125 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.126 the 1950s, Houtermans occupied an apartment in this ten-unit building with his second wife, Ilse neé Bartz, and their three children, Pieter, Elsa, and Cornelia. She had worked as a chemical engineer with him in Lichterfelde near Berlin during the war, and they had married in 1944. One evening near midnight, after another long study session, Houtermans stealthily invited his hungry students in through the window of their mez- zanine apartment to pillage the refrigerator. Turn left onto Neufeldstrasse and you’ll see the Uni-Tobler building at the next cor- ner at Länggassstrasse 49a. This was the original manufacturing plant, from 1899 to 1984, of the famous prism-shaped Toblerone chocolate bars. In 1910 the Tobler Com- pany was Bern’s largest industrial employer.16 Since 1992, the building houses various university departments in the humanities and social sciences, including the Institute for Philosophy with its working group in the History and Philosophy of Science. Inside you can see how the original factory-floor atmosphere has been carefully preserved. A branch of the university library is in its high atrium. Continue down Muesmattstrasse to the University Observatory at Mues- mattstrasse 25. Forster’s focus on geophysics had come at the expense of practical astronomy: Under his directorship astronomy was taught by mathematicians and physicists strictly as a theoretical discipline. A revival occurred a dozen years after the retirement of the astronomer Georg Sidler (1831–1907) when Sigmund Mauderli (1876–1962) successfully lobbied the government in 1919 to invest in a small research Fig. 12. The Institute of Exact Sciences on Sidlerstrasse was inaugurated in 1963 under Houtermans’s directorship. Source: Scandola, et al., Hochschulgeschichte Berns (ref. 7), p. 333. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 126 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 127 observatory so that students could again finally get some practical training. The 15- centimeter classical Merz refractor in the 6-meter dome, inaugurated in 1922, was replaced three years later by the current instrument measuring 17.5 centimeters.* Three decades later the astronomy department relieved the physicists of routine meteorological tasks, and in 1978 an automated meteorological station began opera- tion in Liebefeld. Like Einstein, Houtermans also had occasion to visit the Bernese Civil Registry (then located in the police headquarters at Predigergasse 5 in the center of town). Thus, in August 1953, after divorcing his second wife Ilse, Houtermans remarried his first wife Charlotte neé Riefenstahl (no relation to the notorious German filmmaker Leni), with whom he had had two children, Giovanna and Jan. The nuclear physicist Walter Win- kler (b. 1927) remembered his former teacher debating about whom to ask as witness- es for the civil ceremony. On the two previous occasions Wolfgang Pauli had been one of them, but now Houtermans was hesitant to ask him once again: “I really can’t take Pauli again, because the odd numbers always go wrong with him. It’s sort of like a ‘Pauli exclusion principle’.” There apparently was something to it: Pauli actually came to Bern and served in this honorable capacity along with Giovanna and Jan, but this third bond of marriage lasted only a few months. Houtermans was back at the registry again the following year with his step-sister-in-law Lore Müller and her four-year old daugher Sabine.** Houtermans made light of his private life. When a student missed a lecture to attend his own wedding, his teacher reprimanded him in front of the entire class with the words: “But Mr. Lang, if I had skipped a lecture every time I was mar- ried, where would we be now?!” Forster’s vision of the University of Bern as a center of geophysical research finally materialized at the end of the 20th century. Houtermans’s interdisciplinary approach led to a fruitful collaboration in nuclear geology with the University of Pisa and the Université Libre in Brussels. Martin Teucher (1921–1978), who had taken his doctorate in nuclear physics under Houtermans at Göttingen, was placed in charge of building up a high-energy physics group using the emulsion method for detecting charged particles. Johannes Geiss (b. 1926) introduced mass spectroscopy into the program, and later, as Houtermans’s successor, space research. The exact sciences in Bern have managed to stay on a par with its European sister institutions ever since, thanks to substantial fund- ing from industry and participation in international collaborative projects. Today there is a laboratory for high-energy physics at the University of Bern, and research divisions for climatology and environmental physics, and space research and planetary sci- ence.*** Einstein would have been pleased to see unified field theory on the current theoretical agenda. * The observatory is open to the public every Thursday at dusk; other visits can be arranged by appointment. See the website <www.aiub.unibe.ch/stw/Muesmatt>. ** Their address in 1960 was Friedeckweg 24 (which no longer exists), bordering on Monbijou Park. The Houtermans later moved into a two-family house a few streets farther south at Sul- genauweg 32. Their son Heinrich was born in 1956. *** For current research being conducted at the various physics institutes, see the University of Bern’s website <www.unibe.ch>. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 127 Ann M. Hentschel Phys. perspect.128 Acknowledgment I thank Prof. Dr. Gerd Grasshoff at the University of Bern for assigning the project to write a guide for the Einstein Route Bern. I also thank Dr. phil. nat. Andreas Verdun for information on the former observatory, and my husband Klaus Hentschel for on- going valuable advice and for revising drafts of my paper. I am indebted to Roger H. Stuewer for his thoughtful and careful editorial work on it. References 1 Martin J. Klein, A.J. Kox, and Robert Schulmann, ed., The Collected Papers of Albert Einstein. Vol. 5. The Swiss Years: Correspondence, 1902–1914 (Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1993), p. 223. 2 Karl Wolfgang Graff, “Die Vorprüfung und Erteilung von Erfindungspatenten beim eidgenössis- chen Amt für geistiges Eigentum 1888–1910,” Thesis (Zulassungsarbeit), University of Stuttgart, History Department, Section for History of Science and Technology, 2001, pp. 28–29. 3 Max Flückiger, Albert Einstein in Bern (Bern: Paul Haupt, 1974), p. 60. 4 Ann M. Hentschel and Gerd Grasshoff, with a contribution on the Patent Office by Karl Wolfgang Graff, Albert Einstein: “Those Happy Bernese Years” (Bern: Bern Studies in the History and Phi- losophy of Science, 2005). This illustrated guide to the “Einstein Route” in Bern contains statistics on the teaching conditions in Bern and comprehensive references to the latest research on Ein- stein’s Bernese period in its historical context. 5 J. Heinrich Graf, Die Naturforschende Gesellschaft in Bern. Vom 18. Dezember 1786 bis 18. Dezember 1886. Ein Rückblick auf die Geschichte dieses Vereins bei Anlass der Feier des 100jähri- gen Bestehens. [Separatum from Mitteilungen der Naturforschenden Gesellschaft in Bern] (Bern: Paul Haller, 1886), pp. 68–69. 6 Wolfgang Schwitz, “Entstehung und Entwicklung des eidgenössischen Messwesens,” OFMET Info 2, nos. 1 and 2 (1995), 1–12; see also its website <www.metas.ch>. 7 Viktor Gorgé, “Die Entwicklung der exakten Wissenschaften an der Berner Hochschule. Ein Beispiel eines Professionalisierungsprozesses,” in Pietro Scandola, Franziska Rogger, and Stephan Schmidlin, ed., Hochschulgeschichte Berns 1528–1984 (Bern: University of Bern, 1984), p. 322. 8 See, for instance, Heinrich Wild’s meteorological observations from 1861 in the Mitteilungen der Naturforschenden Gesellschaft in Bern (1862). 9 Andreas Verdun, “Zwei Jahrhunderte Astronomie und Geodäsie in Bern,” Orion 61, special issue 3, no. 316 (2003), 4–12. Dr. Verdun, historian at the Bernese astronomy department, also kindly informed me about the memorial stone and referred me to the photograph reproduced here. 10 Robert Schulmann, “Einstein at the patent office. Exile, salvation or tactical retreat?” Science in Context 6, no. 1 (1993), 17–24, especially 19. 11 J.L. Heilbron and Robert W. Seidel, A History of the Lawrence Berkeley Laboratory. Vol. 1. Lawrence and His Laboratory (Berkeley, Los Angeles, Oxford: University of California Press, 1989), p. 69. 12 Iosif B. Khriplovich, “The Eventful Life of Fritz Houtermans,” Physics Today 45 (July 1992), 29–37; Edoardo Amaldi, “The adventurous life of Friedrich Georg Houtermans,” in Giovanni Battimelli and Giovanni Paoloni, ed., 20th Century Physics: Essays and Recollections. A Selection of Histori- cal Writings by Edoardo Amaldi (Singapore: World Scientific, 1998), pp. 592–695; Konrad Lan- drock, “Friedrich Georg Houtermans. – Ein bedeutender Physiker des 20. Jahrhunderts,” Natur- wissenschaftliche Rundschau 56, no. 4 (2003), 187–199. 13 Quoted in Khriplovich, “Eventful Life” (ref. 12), p. 36. 14 Haro von Buttlar, ed., Leonium und andere Anekdoten um den Physikprofessor Dr. F.G. Houter- mans 1903-1966 (Bochum: Institut für Experimentalphysik III, Ruhr-Universität Bochum, 1982), 49 pp. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 128 Vol. 7 (2005) Peripatetic Highlights in Bern 129 15 Flückiger, Albert Einstein (ref. 3), p. 71; see also Peter Galison, Einstein’s Clocks, Poincaré’s Maps: Empires of Time (New York: W.W. Norton, 2003), pp. 275-284; for further references, see the sub- section on Chavan in Hentschel and Grasshoff, Albert Einstein (ref. 4). 16 Anna Bähler, Robert Barth, Susanna Bühler, Emil Erne, and Christian Lüthi, ed., Bern – die Geschichte der Stadt im 19. und 20. Jahrhundert (Bern: Stämpfli, 2003), p. 73. Wissenschaftstheorie und Wissenschaftsgeschichte University of Bern Uni-Tobler, Länggassstrasse 49a CH-3012 Bern 9, Switzerland e-mail: ann.hentschel@philo.unibe.ch Titles on Toilets H.B.G. Casimir told the following story about Houterman’s propensity for teasing: He also pointed out that before World War I a coachman in Vienna would address a fare from whom he expected a generous tip as “Herr Baron.” In the twenties and early thirties intellectuals were appreciated, and passengers became “Herr Doctor.” But since World War II we live in an executive age, and consequently cabdrivers now use “Herr Direktor” as the preferred form of address. I wonder whether he was in league with Pauli to pull my leg? Anyway, he continued: “Words originally designating members of the aristocracy, like Messieurs in French or Gentlemen in English, in the long run find their way to lavatory doors. How pleasant it would be to live in a world where every loo is inscribed Directors!” Hendrik B.G. Casimir, Haphazard Reality: Half a Century of Science (New York: Harper & Row, 1983), p. 221. 05a_Hentschel 232 2.3.2005 14:52 Uhr Seite 129 1 
work_xxmq3ee7u5bmzmwqsetqtty65y	----	Case report Open Access Anton’s syndrome due to cerebrovascular disease: a case report Mohana Maddula*, Stuart Lutton and Breffni Keegan Address: Stroke Unit, Erne Hospital, Cornagrade Road, Enniskillen BT74 6AY, UK Email: MM* - mmaddula@doctors.org.uk; SL - stuartlutton1@yahoo.com; BK - breff.keegan@doctors.org.uk * Corresponding author Received: 10 October 2008 Accepted: 7 March 2009 Published: 9 September 2009 Journal of Medical Case Reports 2009, 3:9028 doi: 10.4076/1752-1947-3-9028 This article is available from: http://jmedicalcasereports.com/jmedicalcasereports/article/view/9028 © 2009 Maddula et al.; licensee Cases Network Ltd. This is an Open Access article distributed under the terms of the Creative Commons Attribution License (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0), which permits unrestricted use, distribution, and reproduction in any medium, provided the original work is properly cited. Abstract Introduction: Anton’s syndrome describes the condition in which patients deny their blindness despite objective evidence of visual loss, and moreover confabulate to support their stance. It is a rare extension of cortical blindness in which, in addition to the injury to the occipital cortex, other cortical centres are also affected, with patients typically behaving as if they were sighted. Case presentation: We present a case report of an 83-year-old white woman with cortical blindness as a result of bilateral occipital lobe infarcts. Despite her obvious blindness, illustrated by her walking into objects, the patient expressed denial of visual loss and demonstrated confabulation in her accounts of her surroundings, consistent with a diagnosis of Anton’s syndrome. Conclusions: A suspicion of cortical blindness and Anton’s syndrome should be considered in patients with atypical visual loss and evidence of occipital lobe injury. Cerebrovascular disease is the most common cause of Anton’s syndrome, as in our patient. However, any condition that may result in cortical blindness can potentially lead to Anton’s syndrome. Recovery of visual function will depend on the underlying aetiology, with cases due to occipital lobe infarction after cerebrovascular events being less likely to result in complete recovery. Management in these circumstances should accordingly focus on secondary prevention and rehabilitation. Introduction Visual anosognosia, that is, denial of loss of vision, associated with confabulation in the setting of obvious visual loss and cortical blindness is known as Anton’s syndrome. Although the anterior visual tracts are intact, the visual association centres in the occipital cortex may be compromised. Patients with Anton’s syndrome strongly believe they can see what they cannot and behave and talk as though they were sighted. Attention to the possibility of the condition is, however, drawn when they walk into walls, fall over furniture and describe objects that are not present. We describe a case of a patient with Anton’s syndrome and its associated features. Case presentation An 83-year-old white woman with a background of mild dementia, hypothyroidism and a resected gastric carci- noma 20 years earlier was found collapsed on the floor of her house. It was difficult to exclude loss of consciousness reliably, but when she was seen by her GP a right hemiparesis was reported, which had resolved by the time of admission to hospital. Her premorbid functional Page 1 of 3 (page number not for citation purposes) http://jmedicalcasereports.com/jmedicalcasereports/pages/view/faq mailto:mmaddula@doctors.org.uk mailto:stuartlutton1@yahoo.com mailto:breff.keegan@doctors.org.uk http://jmedicalcasereports.com/jmedicalcasereports/article/view/9028 http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/3.0 capacity had been good, and she could mobilise indepen- dently with the aid of a Zimmer frame and had required minimal assistance with activities of daily living. On arrival to the stroke unit, the patient’s Glasgow Coma Scale score (GCS) was 15 out of 15 and she had normal power in all four limbs and no sensory loss. Her most striking clinical feature on examination was severe impairment of visual acuity. She was walking into objects and was clearly blind. Despite an objective diminution of her vision, our patient maintained she was able to ‘see’ things around her. Pupillary reflexes were intact (suggest- ing an intact anterior visual pathway), with fundoscopy unremarkable. The only other neurological finding was a mild receptive dysphasia. A computed tomography scan of the patient’s brain (Figure 1) demonstrated evidence of acute infarction in the right occipital and left occipito-parietal lobes, on a background of generalised periventricular ischaemia, consistent with a diagnosis of cortical blindness. Her receptive dysphasia resolved early in the course of her hospitalisation, but during her rehabilitiation she none- theless continued to deny any loss of vision and showed signs of confabulation. When asked to comment on the doctor’s tie, she was quick with an answer, but one that was incorrect. Interestingly, towards the end of her admission, she asked a nurse to “light up some candles” because she felt the room was dark, suggesting a degree of light perception that was not present on admission. She required assistance in mobilising safely in view of her visual impairment, and required help for most activities of daily living. Although she was, for example, unable to see her meals, she would feel for the utensils on the tray when it was placed in front of her, and if left to her own devices she would start eating the food, but assistance was required to help her finish the meals and avoid spillage. Although she would deny visual deficit, she would accept such assistance. Subsequently, she returned home to live with a family member, but she required carers visiting regularly to assist in activities of daily living such as washing and dressing. Her general condition, such as nutritional status and physical strength, improved. About 4 weeks after initial presentation it was reported by our patient’s family that they believed she was now able to follow shadows, although this may have been due to ‘blindsight’. However, she still required significant carer involvement some months later. Although there had perhaps been a slight improvement, the likelihood of a marked recovery in visual acuity remained low. Discussion The French renaissance writer Montaigne (1533-1592) described in his second book of Les Essais the case of a nobleman who did not believe he was blind despite the obvious signs[1].This was probably the first everdescription of not perceiving one’s own blindness in the absence of psychiatric illness or underlying cognitive impairment. A few hundred years later the Austrian neuropsychiatrist Gabriel Anton (1858-1933) described patients with objec- tive blindness and deafness who showed a lack of self- perception of their deficits. He associated these with brain pathology [2]. Joseph François Babinski (1857-1932) later used the term anosognosia to describe this phenomenon [3]. Neurological visual impairment, in which the visual disturbance is as a result of brain abnormality or damage rather than eye abnormalities, encompasses a broad spectrum of conditions. These include conditions such as cerebral visual impairment, visual neglect, visual agnosia, various visual perceptual disorders, homonymous hemi- anopia, lack of facial recognition, delayed visual develop- ment and cortical blindness. In patients with total cortical blindness secondary to bilateral damage to the occipital cortices, movement of objects may nonetheless be perceived, either consciously [4] (Riddoch’s syndrome) or unconsciously (blindsight) [5]. Conversely, motion blindness, in which patients can Figure 1. A computed tomography scan of the patient’s brain at initial presentation, demonstrating acute infarction in the right occipital and left occipito-parietal lobes. Page 2 of 3 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Medical Case Reports 2009, 3:9028 http://jmedicalcasereports.com/jmedicalcasereports/article/view/9028 see objects but cannot perceive the motion of these objects, has also been well described [6]. This may be accounted for by the presence of projections from the lateral geniculate nucleus, both to the visual cortex (V1) via the optic radiations and to the motion-selective middle temporal area (MT or V5), a cortical area not previously considered ‘primary’ [7]. Other manifestations of impaired visual acuity may include Charles Bonnet syndrome, in which patients with visual loss from any cause may experience hallucinations, often very elaborate, with images of unfamiliar people or buildings, and so on, although with preservation of insight [8]. Anton’s syndrome is the denial of loss of vision (visual anosognosia) associated with confabulation in the setting of obvious visual loss and cortical blindness. Frequently, patients with damage to the occipital lobes bilaterally also have damage to their visual association cortex, which may account for their lack of awareness [9]. Additionally, as suggested by Anton, damaged visual areas are effectively disconnected from functioning areas, such as speech- language areas. In the absence of input, functioning speech areas often confabulate a response [10]. In addition to the hypothesised disconnection described above, two other likely neuropsychological mechanisms have been postulated. One suggests that the monitor of visual stimuli is defective and is incorrectly interpreting images. The other suggests the presence of false feedback from another visual system. In this regard, the superior colliculus, pulvinar and temporo-parietal regions may transmit signals to the monitor when the geniculocalcar- ine system fails. In the absence of visual input, this false internal imagery may convince the monitor or speech areas to come out with a response [9]. Although any cause of cortical blindness may potentially lead to Anton’s syndrome, cerebrovascular disease is the most common [11]. In addition to the more common causes of Anton’s syndrome, it has also been reported in hypertensive encephalopathy with pre-eclampsia [12], obstetric haemorrhage with hypoperfusion [13], and trauma [14], amongst others. Our patient with bilateral occipital infarcts causing cortical blindness and visual anosognosia, fulfilled the classical description for Anton’s syndrome. She maintained a fervent belief in her visual aptitude despite an obvious deficit. Her dementia was only of a mild degree and did not influence or cloud the diagnosis of Anton’s syndrome. Good recovery of visual function has been noted in conditions causing Anton’s syndrome such as hypertensive encephalopathy and cortical hypoperfusion [12,13]. In these conditions, correction of the causative factor may lead to resolution of symptoms. Our patient had bilateral occipital lobe infarction, but despite a small recovery in her vision, she is unlikely to attain a substantial improve- ment. It would be important to consider secondary prevention, and to offer rehabilitation to such patients, should insight return. Our case adds to the limited literature on Anton’s syndrome. A suspicion of cortical blindness and Anton’s syndrome should be raised in patients with atypical visual loss and evidence of occipital lobe injury. Consent Written informed consent was obtained from the patient’s next of kin for publication of this case report and the accompanying image. A copy of the written consent is available for review by the Editor-in-Chief of this journal. Competing interests The authors declare that they have no competing interests. Authors’ contributions MM and SL prepared the case report and performed a literature search on Anton’s syndrome. MM and BK wrote up the case report and discussion. References 1. de Montaigne M: The Essays (Les Essais). Book 2, Chapter 12. Edited by Langelier A. Paris; 1595. 2. Anton G: Über die Selbstwahrnehmung der Herderkrankun- gen des Gehirns durch den Kranken bei Rindenblindheit und Rindentaubheit. Arch Psychiatrie Nervenkrankh 1899, 32:86-127. 3. Babinski J: Contribution a l’étude des troubles mentaux dans l’hémiplégie organique (anosognosie). Revue Neurol 1914, 27:845-848. 4. Riddoch G: Dissociation of visual perceptions due to occipital injuries, with especial reference to appreciation of move- ment. Brain 1917, 40:15-57. 5. Zihl J, von Cramen D, Mai N: Selective disturbance of movement vision after bilateral brain damage. Brain 1983, 106:313-340. 6. Zeki S: Cerebral akinetopsia (visual motion blindness). A review. Brain 1991, 114:811-824. 7. Sincich LC, Park KF, Wohlgemuth MJ, Horton JC: Bypassing V1: a direct geniculate input to area MT. Nat Neurosci 2004, 7: 1123-1128. 8. Menon GJ, Rahman I, Menon SJ, Dutton GN: Complex visual hallucinations in the visually impaired: the Charles Bonnet syndrome. Surv Ophthalmol 2003, 48:58-72. 9. Heilman KM: Anosognosia: possible neuropsychological mechanisms. In Awareness of Deficit after Brain Injury: Clinical and Theoretical Issues. Edited by Prigatano FP, Schacter DL. New York: Oxford University Press; 1991:53-62. 10. Gazzaniga MS: The Bisected Brain. New York: Appleton-Century- Crofts; 1970. 11. Aldrich MS, Alessi AG, Beck RW, Gilman S: Cortical blindness: etiology, diagnosis, and prognosis. Ann Neurol 1987, 21:149-158. 12. Misra M, Rath S, Mohanty AB: Anton syndrome and cortical blindness due to bilateral occipital infarction. Indian J Ophthalmol 1989, 37:196. 13. Argenta PA, Morgan MA: Cortical blindness and Anton syndrome in a patient with obstetric haemorrhage. Obstet Gynecol 1998, 91:810-812. 14. McDaniel KD, McDaniel LD: Anton’s syndrome in a patient with posttraumatic optic neuropathy and bifrontal contusions. Arch Neurol 1991, 48:101-105. Page 3 of 3 (page number not for citation purposes) Journal of Medical Case Reports 2009, 3:9028 http://jmedicalcasereports.com/jmedicalcasereports/article/view/9028 Introduction Case presentation Discussion 
work_xzk5olmbsfew7otlgtdcxj33xm	----	Revista de Estudios Histórico-Jurídicos [Sección historia del pensamiento jurídico] XL (Valparaíso, Chile, 2018) [pp. 423 - 441] Abstr Act This study aims to explain the role developed by Law in Sixteenth-Century E nc yc lopa e d i sm. A f ter s t udy i n g t he Encyclopaedism of Ramon Llull and Petrus Ramus, the works of his followers (Freigius, Loisel, Valeriis, Grégoire, Savigny) are examined. The conclusion is that thanks to Ramism and Lullism, Law was integrated in an Encyclopedia, and this demanded a change in the dispositio of the juridical matters and in the method to study them. Thanks to the Encyclopedias, Law (as a part of the universal knowledge) had to be compared with other knowledges, and this circumstance aided the development of Legal Pedagogy and compilations of Roman Law and Customary Law. These Sixteenth-Century Encyclopedias were a resumen E ste e st ud io t iene c omo objet ivo e x pl ic a r e l p a p e l d e l d e r e c ho e n e l enciclopedismo del siglo XVI. Después de estudiar el enciclopedismo de Ramon Llull y Petrus Ramus, se examinan las obras de sus seguidores (Freigius, Loisel, Valeriis, Grégoire, Savigny). Se concluye que, gracias al ramismo y al lulismo, el derecho se integró en las enciclopedias, y ello exigió un cambio en la dispositio de las materias jurídicas y en el método para estudiarlas. Gracias a las enciclopedias, el derecho (como parte del conocimiento universal) tuvo que ser comparado con otros conocimientos, y esta circunstancia ayudó al desarrollo de la pedagogía jurídica y en las síntesis de derecho romano y derecho c onsuet ud ina rio. E st a s encicloped ia s * Profesor de Historia del Derecho y de las Instituciones. Facultad de Derecho, Universitat de les Illes Balears – Instituto de Estudios Hispánicos en la Modernidad (IEHM) – Unidad asociada al CSIC. Carretera de Valldemossa, km. 7.5, 07122 Palma de Mallorca, España. Correo electrónico: r.ramis@uib.es recibido el 12 de marzo de 2018 y AceptAdo el 20 de julio de 2018 el derecho en el enciclopedismo del siglo XVi [Law Into the Sixteenth-Century Encyclopaedism] Rafael r Amis bArceló* Universitat de les Illes Balears, España Rafael Ramis BaRceló424 rehJ. Xl (2018) del siglo X V I f ueron un primer pa so pa ra el e x t raord i na rio de sa rrol lo del enciclopedismo en el siglo XVII. pAlAbr As clAVe Enciclopedismo – Derecho – Ramus – Llull – Siglo XVI. first step to the extraordinary development of Encyclopaedism in the Seventeenth Century. Key words Enc yclopaedism – Law –R amus – Lullius – 16th Century. introducción El enciclopedismo es una tendencia intelectual que se ha desarrollado durante diferentes épocas de la historia. En las páginas siguientes nos centraremos en el enciclopedismo del siglo XVI y analizaremos el papel que tuvo el derecho en el marco de este movimiento cultural. Nuestro objetivo es mostrar brevemente de qué forma se forjó el enciclopedismo renacentista1 y cuál es el lugar que le corres- ponde al derecho (entendido como saber jurídico) en esta etapa. Ello nos obligará a conocer el desarrollo de los métodos de Ramon Llull (Raimundus Lullius) y de Pierre de la Ramée (Petrus Ramus). i. los r Asgos del enciclopedismo del siglo XVi El enciclopedismo moderno reintroduce dos tendencias que habían florecido en el siglo XIII. Por un lado, la tradición de autores como Vincent de Beauvais, que consistía en yuxtaponer conocimientos en un sentido acumulativo, tal y como había empezado a hacer Isidoro de Sevilla, a fin de reunir la mayor cantidad de datos organizados sobre todos los temas. Por otro lado, la enciclopedia como Ars en Ramon Llull (1232/35-1315/16), en la que los conocimientos estaban dispuestos de forma combinatoria, de manera que no sólo ordenaban la realidad, sino que, a través de la mezcla de principios y reglas, se favorecía la creación de nuevos conceptos. Debido al nominalismo y a otras tendencias intelectuales, el enciclopedismo decayó durante los siglos XIV y XV, aunque fue reintroducido con fuerza en el siglo XVI, especialmente gracias a la difusión de la imprenta, que permitió popu- larizar estos compendios del saber, a menudo con cuadros, esquemas e imágenes. La primera enciclopedia impresa fue Margarita Phylosophica2, obra del cartujo Gregor Reisch, que contenía pequeños tratados sobre el trivium y el quadrivium, y la filosofía. La principal intención de esta obra era la sistematización escolar de las nociones básicas que debían tener los estudiantes de Artes. Destaca en ella la voluntad de igualar todos los conocimientos de la Facultad de Artes, a fin de que 1 Véase céArd, J., Encyclopédie et encyclopédisme à la Renaissance, en becq, A. (ed.), L’En- cyclopédisme (Paris, 1991), pp. 57-67 y simone, F., La notion d’Encyclopédie: élément caractéris- tique de la Renaissance française, en shArrAtt, P. (dir.), French Renaissance Studies (1540-70). Humanism and the Encyclopedia (Edinburgh, 1976), pp. 243-262. 2 reisch, g., Margarita Philosophica (Freiburg, 1503). 425El dErEcho En El EnciclopEdismo dEl siglo XVi la astronomía, la geometría, la música, la ética, entre otros, estuviesen en pie de igualdad. Desde entonces, se imprimieron otros compendios enciclopédicos que intentaban reunir en una sola obra el conjunto de los saberes. De ahí la fascinación por Ramon Llull, que había atraído ya a muchos filósofos del primer Renacimiento. Desde finales del siglo XV se habían publicado diversas obras suyas, particularmente Ars brevis y Arbor scientiae, que fueron objeto de interés por parte de muchos teólogos, filósofos y juristas3. La impresión más destacada de esta última obra fue la que hicieron Josse Bade y Bernard de Lavinheta en 15154, reimpresa luego en varias ocasiones. Arbor Scientiae es una compilación de dieciséis árboles, cuya finalidad es facilitar el entendimiento del saber universal. Está formada por dieciocho raíces que señalan los principios trascendentales y del Arte, y por dieciséis ramas que representan los distintos ámbitos de la ciencia.5 Lo más interesante es que el Árbol de Llull abarcaba tanto las artes liberales como en los saberes superiores, aunque sin una disposición universitaria. Llull había escrito asimismo tratados de aplicación de su Arte pensados para las Facultades superiores, entre las que se hallaba el derecho6, de modo que, siguiendo sus directrices, los universitarios podían aplicar un método único, adaptado a la medicina, a la teología y al derecho. El lulismo, por su vocación enciclopedista, resultó muy atractivo para los humanistas que aspiraban a la globalidad del conocimiento mediante un solo método para todos los saberes7. De ahí que las doctrinas de Llull cautivasen no sólo a autores como Nicolás de Cusa y Pico della Mirandola, sino también a otros como Levèfre d’Étaples y sus discípulos (Charles Bouvelles, Josse Bade, etc.). En esta misma línea encontramos al franciscano rosellonés Bernard de Lavinheta8. 3 rAmis bArceló, r., La recepción de las ideas jurídicas de Ramon Llull en los siglos XV y XVI, en REHJ., 34 (2012), pp. 431-456. 4 bAde, J.; lAVinhetA, B., Arbor scientiae venerabilis et caelitus Illuminati Patris Raymundi Lullii Maioricensis (Lugduni, 1515). 5 Para una visión de conjunto: rossi, p., Clavis universalis. El arte de la memoria y la lógica combinatoria de Lulio a Leibniz (México, 1989), pp. 60-69. También sigue siendo útil cArrerAs ArtAu, J. y T., Historia de la filosofía española, II: Filosofía cristiana de los siglos XIII al XV (Madrid, 1943). 6 Sobre el Arte de Llull aplicado al derecho, véase llull, r., Arte de derecho [estudio preli- minar de R. Ramis Barceló] (traducción castellana y notas de P. Ramis Serra y R. Ramis Barceló, Madrid, 2011); y sobre el derecho canónico, en particular, rAmis bArceló, r., Raimundus Lullus on Canon Law, en Zeitschrift der Savigny-Stiftung für Rechtsgeschichte: Kanonistische Abteilung, 102 (2016), pp. 445-470. 7 Algunas alusiones desconocidas pueden verse en rAmis bArceló, r., Algunas perspectivas nuevas para la historia del lulismo: referencias lulianas desconocidas en textos impresos del siglo XVI, en Antonianum, 90/3 (2015), pp. 583-606; rAmis bArceló, r., Nuevas referencias lulianas desconocidas en obras del siglo XVI, en Antonianum, 92/1 (2017), pp. 85-106; rAmis bArceló, r., Más referencias lulianas desconocidas en obras impresas del siglo XVI, en Antonianum, 93/1 (2018), pp. 9-29. 8 Sobre el lulismo renacentista, véase especialmente rossi, P., The Legacy of Ramon Lull in Sixteenth-Century Thought, en Mediaeval and Renaissance Studies, 5 (1961), pp. 182-213; colomer, E., De la Edad Media al Renacimiento: Ramón Llull - Nicolás de Cusa - Juan Pico della Mirandola (Barcelona, 1975); yAtes, F. A., Lull & Bruno. Collected Essays (London, 1982), I; Rafael Ramis BaRceló426 rehJ. Xl (2018) Practica compendiosa artis Raymundi Lulii9 de Lavinheta se publicó ocho años después que la edición romana de Ars iuris (1516)10. Sin duda éste era el tratado jurídico más conocido de Llull. Lavinheta heredó una compleja tradición luliana, que intentó extractar en su obra, la cual establecía un equilibrio entre el ejem- plarismo metafísico y el enciclopedismo, en el que el Arte devenía una suerte de sistema técnico-epistémico para buscar la verdad. Sin duda, Lavinheta era un autor con una importante proyección metafísica, pero su obra fue interpretada, ya en el siglo XVI, como un mero artificio de combinatoria. De hecho, la mayoría de proyectos enciclopédicos de raíz luliana se basaron en la obra de este franciscano11, aunque soslayando toda su dimensión ontológica y teológica. Puede decirse que Lavinheta fue el autor que expuso el lulismo medieval en odres modernos y dio inicio al enciclopedismo luliano moderno. En el ámbito del derecho12, al igual que en otras disciplinas, Lavinheta devino el eslabón fundamental entre el lulismo medieval y el moderno. Su obra elaboró una síntesis de algunas pocas ideas del Liber principiorum iuris de Llull, algunas más del tratado Ars iuris, ya mencionado, y siguió básicamente la estructura y los ejemplos de Arbor scientiae. Lavinheta fue capaz de presentar una exposición ordenada y racional del derecho luliano, apta para interpelar a los teólogos, a los filósofos y a los juristas del momento. De hecho, la obra de Lavinheta interesó a algunos juristas prácticos, como Andrés de Exea (†1575)13, doctor en ambos derechos, que enseñó en la Universidad de Montpellier, para pasar después a su Valencia natal. Su libro sobre los pactos es una obra claramente erudita, en la cual el autor quería mostrar su conocimiento Bonner, A., El arte luliana como método, del Renacimiento a Leibniz, en domínguez, F.; de sAlAs, J. (ed.), Constantes y fragmentos del pensamiento luliano. Actas del simposio sobre Ramon Llull en Trujillo, 17-20 septiembre 1994 (Tübingen: 1996), pp. 161-172; y rAmis bArceló, r., La filosofía luliana en la Universidad durante los siglos XV y XVI, en Anuario filosófico, 49/1 (2016), pp. 177-196. Sobre Lavinheta, Victor, J. M., Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples, Charles de Bovelles and Bernardo de Lavinheta: The Revival of Lullism at Paris 1499-1516, en Renaissance Quartely 28 (1975), pp. 504-534; pereirA, M., Bernardo Lavinheta e la diffusione del lullismo a Parigi nei primi anni del 500, en Interpres. Revista di Studi Quatrocenteschi, 5 (1983), pp. 242-265; y rossi, p., Clavis universalis, cit. (n. 5), pp. 79-84. 9 lAVinhetA, B., Explanatio compendiosaque applicatio artis Raymundi Lulli (Lugduni, 1523). 10 rAmis bArceló, r., Lulismo y derecho en Italia durante el Renacimiento, en romAno, M. (ed.), Il lullismo in Italia: itinerario storico-critico. Volume miscellaneo in occasione del VII centenario della morte di Raimondo Lullo. In memoria di Alessandro Musco (Roma, 2015), pp. 397-414. 11 Angelini, A., Metodo ed Enciclopedia nel cinquecento francese, I: Il pensiero di Pietro Ramo all’origine dell’enciclopedismo moderno (Firenze, 2008), pp. 239-283. 12 elíAs de teJAdA, F.; percopo, g., Historia del pensamiento político catalán (Sevilla, Monte- jurra, 1963), p. 172, consideraron siempre a Lavinheta un innovador en la metodología jurídica luliana, cuyos triángulos, cuadrados y círculos consideró “verdaderos modelos de concisión, claridad y eficacia metodológicas”. Para la interpretación de las ideas jurídicas de Lavinheta, véase rAmis bArceló, r., Bernard de Lavinheta y su interpretación de las ideas jurídicas de Ramon Llull, en higuerA, J. (ed.), Contributions to the Lullian Session at the SIEPM Congress-Freising, August 20-25, 2012 (Turnhout, 2015), pp. 207-225 y CostA, A., La Combinatoire juridique de Bernardus De Lavinheta, en Dixseptième siècle, 279 (2018), pp. 203-230. 13 eXeA, A., Pactorum liber unus (Lugduni, 1542), pp. 119; 126-127. 427El dErEcho En El EnciclopEdismo dEl siglo XVi de las novedades jurídicas y también de los demás campos del saber, y en ella citó dos veces la interpretación de Lavinheta para resolver casos complejos14. Hay autores actuales15 como Angelini que sitúan el lulismo de Lavinheta en la base del sustrato intelectual de Petrus Ramus (1515-1572). Otros, como Frances Yates, consideraron que el ramismo era un mero juego infantil al lado del lulismo y que aquél era una simplificación de éste, mientras que, para Anita Traninger, el lulismo y el ramismo eran métodos rivales. Para Dominique Couzinet, el pensa- miento de Ramus no está directamente vinculado con el lulismo, sino que debe entenderse en el contexto de los debates humanísticos y las reformas docentes llevadas a cabo en París a lo largo del siglo XVI, que permitieron a Pierre de la Ramée crear una nueva filosofía a partir de las exigencias propias de las diferentes disciplinas, aunadas primero por la dialéctica y finalmente por la matemática. Frente al aristotelismo tradicional, humanistas como Ramus demandaron una reestructuración y una clasificación nueva de los saberes tradicionales, dispuestos cada vez de una forma más claramente enciclopédica. Ello exigía una reforma de los planes de estudio, de la propedéutica, y de la propia universidad. En nuestra opinión, cabe destacar que el proyecto de Ramus inicialmente no bebía del Arte de Llull, pues provenía de la unión de la dialéctica de Rodolfo Agricola con las corrientes del humanismo francés (en las que el lulismo era sola- mente una más entre muchas), si bien, con el paso de los años, hallamos una mayor vinculación de Pierre de la Ramée con el enciclopedismo de corte luliano16. El enciclopedismo ramista empezó teniendo un parentesco con el ideal de Beauvais, pues ambos querían conseguir una enciclopedia del saber a base de yuxtaponer y ordenar los conocimientos ya existentes. Ramus fue evolucionando y se planteó cómo podía hacerse una verdadera c o n j u n c i ó n de los saberes. Esta tendencia puede verse en Scholae in liberales artes17 (un compendio de carácter enciclopédico del trivium, matemática, física y metafísica). Ramus, con todo, compartía con Llull (y con Agricola) el sueño de un método único para todos los saberes. El método luliano era combinatorio y se basaba en principios y reglas de carácter filosófico-teológico: quería ser al mismo tiempo una lógica y una metafísica. Ramus, en cambio, quería que la dialéctica fuese un método único que sustituyese el yugo de la metafísica aristotélica. De ahí que apostase primero por una diairesis platónica como forma de argumentación y 14 rAmis bArceló, r., Más referencias lulianas desconocidas, cit. (n. 6), pp. 13-14. 15 Véase yAtes, F. A., The Art of Memory (London, 2011 [1966]), pp. 234-235; trAninger, A., The Secret of Success: Ramism and Lullism as Contending Methods, en reid, S. J.; wilson, E. A. (ed.), Ramus, Pedagogy and the Liberal Arts: Ramism in Britain and the Wider World (Aldershot, 2011), pp. 113-131, y couzinet, M.-D., La “conjonction” entre les disciplines chez Pierre de La Ramée, en FerrAnd, M.; istAsse, N. (eds.), Nouveaux regards sur les «Apollons de collège»: Figures du professeur humaniste en France dans la première moitié du XVIe siècle (Genève, 2014), pp. 87- 106, y, con mayor extensión, en couzinet, M.-D., Pierre Ramus et la critique du pédantisme: philosophie, humanisme et culture scolaire au XVIe siècle (Paris, 2015). 16 Para una visión de conjunto sobre Ramus y el derecho: rAmis bArceló, r., Petrus Ramus y el derecho. Los juristas ramistas del siglo XVI (Madrid, 2016). 17 rAmus, P., Scholae in liberales artes (Basileae, 1569). Rafael Ramis BaRceló428 rehJ. Xl (2018) que, en sus últimas obras, se decantase cada vez más por la matemática como método universal18. En 1569, Ramus escribió Scholae mathematicae, que asentó la idea de integrar la geometría en la dialéctica y establecer la matemática como el fundamento de todos los saberes. El peso de los axiomas en la dialéctica se incrementaba cada vez más. Las matemáticas y, en particular, la aritmética, pasaban a ser la base de todo el conocimiento y, por extensión, también del derecho. Según Ramus: “Ergo in summo civitatis gradu arithmetica velut Regina quaedam erit non modo extremi juris magistra, sed aequi bonique arbitra”19. El joven Ramus, a diferencia de Aristóteles, había negado la dicotomía exis- tente entre sciencia y ars o entre filosofía teorética y filosofía práctica20. No existía jerarquización epistemológica, sino un método único, que Ramus quería aplicar a todos los saberes. De ahí que Ramus quisiese hacer una revolución desde las artes liberales, propugnando la igualación de todos los saberes. A diferencia de lo que pensaba Aristóteles, no tenían que existir ni jerarquías ni barreras entre los conocimientos, así como tampoco la distinción entre saberes mayores y menores. Todos los saberes merecían un tratamiento homogéneo e igualmente diferenciado. Ramus afirmó que la dialéctica era la llave metodológica para acceder a todos los saberes en condiciones de igualdad. De esta forma la física, la óptica, la teología, el derecho, la geografía, la medicina o la geometría debían ser estudiadas a partir de un método único, que las igualase respetando sus diferencias. En sus últimas obras, la dialéctica pasó a tener un carácter axiomático-matemático, que era el nexo común de todas las disciplinas. La mayor divergencia entre Ramus y Llull en este punto radicaba en que Llull quería hacer un método único d e s d e a r r i b a , es decir, a partir de principios y reglas de carácter filosófico y teológico, que sirviesen a los todos los demás saberes, mientras que Ramus buscaba una igualación d e s d e a b a j o , exigiendo que el derecho, la teología y la medicina fueran estudiados por un método dialéctico impuesto desde las artes liberales. Si para Ramus todos los saberes tenían que ser 18 Bruyère, N., Méthode et dialectique dans l’œuvre de La Ramée (Paris, 1984), pp. 285-310. Para M.-D. Couzinet, “Ramus participe ainsi à un mouvement de redéfinition de l’encyclopédie qui, tout en conservant l’ordre de classification des arts, en modifie profondément le sens, au nom de l’usage dialectique consistant à bien définir et à bien juger”. Véase couzinet, M.-D., L’encyclopédie comme programme éducatif chez Pierre Ramus: conjonction ou réduction?, en cor- reArd, N.; teulAde, A., Questions sur l’encyclopédisme. Le cercle des savoirs de l’Antiquité aux Lumières (Nantes, 2018), pp. 70-79. La cita está en la p. 76. 19 rAmus, P., Scholarum mathematicarum, libri unus et triginta (Basileae, 1569), p. 55. 20 oldrini, G., La disputa del metodo nel Rinascimento. Indagini su Ramo e sul ramismo (Firenze, 1997), pp. 107-112. Sin embargo, el último Ramus mostraba algunas importantes convergencias con Aristóteles. Véase couzinet, M.-D., L’encyclopédie comme programme édu- catif, cit. (n. 18), p. 78, “il reprend la distinction aristotélicienne entre deux types de principes: les axiomes et les thèses, les premiers étant des principes immédiatement intelligibles par eux-mêmes, alors que les thèses ont besoin d’exemples pour être intelligibles, et il applique l’exposition sous formes de thèses et d’exemples à l’arithmétique, alors que dans la dernière édition de la Dialectica (1572), il appliquera à tous les énoncés le nom d’axiomes”. Sobre la evolución metodológica de Ramus, véase risse, w., Die Entwicklung der Dialektik bei Petrus Ramus, en Archiv fur die Geschichte der Philosophie, 92 (1960), pp. 36-72. 429El dErEcho En El EnciclopEdismo dEl siglo XVi estudiados al mismo nivel, igualados por el método, la plasmación del conjunto del saber no era sino una organización epistemológica de carácter unitario y enciclopédico21. En cuanto al derecho, Ramus ponía como ejemplo la Ley de las XII Tablas, que era una compilación y sistematización de los mores maiorum. La ley decenviral recogía aquellas costumbres de los antepasados y las ponía en claro para que todos las pudiesen saber y aprender. Era lo que Ramus propugnaba para el derecho francés: se tenían que recopilar las costumbres antiguas, unificarlas y clarificarlas según un orden lógico, desde los primeros principios (más generales) hasta los últimos (más específicos) a partir de un método único, de manera que se hiciese una pequeña enciclopedia del saber jurídico, a partir de principios dispuestos con un carácter matemático. Recordemos que, en 1569, Cornelius Gemma publicó De Arte Cyclognomica, una obra de inspiración enciclopédica, y que, en 1570, John Dee, lulista y alqui- mista, escribió el prólogo a la traducción al inglés de los Elementos de Euclides, en el que destacaba la importancia de las matemáticas en la formación y en la vida práctica humana. El enciclopedismo y la geometría euclidiana estuvieron muy presentes en el contexto cultural de los últimos años de vida de Ramus22. Angelini ha mostrado cómo el último Ramus integró a la postre dos de las tendencias en boga en la segunda mitad de la centuria: la representación de la realidad en forma del árbol de las ciencias, que era la expresión de todo el saber (que se estaba imponiendo a través de diferentes autores, de filiación luliana o cuasiluliana23), al tiempo que se asistía a una recuperación de Euclides, de manos de autores como John Dee, a la vez influidos por Llull y el pseudolulismo. Ramus dejó esbozada en sus últimas obras esta enciclopedia de carácter dialéctico-matemático, si bien su muerte, acaecida en el marco de las matanzas de San Bartolomé de 1572, no le permitió desarrollarlas. Sin embargo, los discípulos de Pierre de la Ramée siguieron por esta senda. La vía enciclopedista, que sólo había sido alentada por Ramus en algunas de las páginas de sus últimas obras24, llegó a tener un creciente impulso en todos los 21 Hotson, H., Commonplace Learning: Ramism and its German Ramifications 1543-1630 (Oxford, 2007), p. 123. 22 VAsoli, c., La dialettica et la retorica dell’umanesimo. ‘Invenzione’ e ‘metodo’ nella cul- tura del XV e XVI secolo (Milano, 1968), p. 588: “Quell’ideale enciclopedico (che è sempre stato caracteristico dei programmi e dei propositi pedagogici di Pietro Ramo) trova, insomma, la sua ultima espressione nella forma di un sistema di assiomi, retto dalla norma generale della ‘chiarezza’, articolato e distinto della sua trama concettuale, ma che, tuttavia, dovrebbe essere capace di imporre il suo ordine alle moltiplice e confuse nozioni apprese dall’esperienza”. En cuanto a la influencia euclidiana, véase goulding, R., Mathematics and Method: Petrus Ramus and the History of the Sciences, en Journal of the History of Ideas, 67 (2006), pp. 33-40 y, más ampliamente, en gould- ing, R., Defending Hypathia. Ramus, Savile, and the Renaissance Rediscovery of Mathematical History (Dordrecht, 2010). 23 berns, J. J., Bildenzyklopädistik 1550-1650, en schierbAum, M. (ed.), Enzyklopädistik 1550-1650. Typen und Transformationen von Wissensspeichern und Medialisierungen des Wissens (Münster, 2009), pp. 41-78. 24 Angelini, A., Metodo ed Enciclopedia nel cinquecento francese, cit. (n. 7), p. 171. Rafael Ramis BaRceló430 rehJ. Xl (2018) órdenes del saber y fue una de las principales tendencias del ramismo durante el último tercio del siglo XVI y el primero del siglo XVII. Como mostró Vasoli, las academias primero, y luego las universidades, alentaron este espíritu interdisci- plinar imprescindible para reunir y ordenar todo el conocimiento25. ii. el enciclopedismo r AmistA AplicAdo Al derecho Las dos tendencias del último Ramus (el enciclopedismo y el método axiomá- tico-matemático) fueron adoptadas conjunta o separadamente por algunos juristas. Tras la muerte de Pierre de la Ramée, hubo diversos continuadores de su obra, que fue prolongada en dos direcciones: por un lado, mediante la confección de enciclopedias de todos los saberes, entre los que se encontraba el derecho y, por otro, a través de la elaboración de una enciclopedia del derecho consuetudinario. El principal exponente de la primera tendencia fue Freigius y, el de la segunda, Loisel. 1. Johann Thomas Freigius El valor enciclopédico, que por culpa de su trágica muerte Pierre de la Ramée no pudo consolidar, sería atendido por su discípulo Freigius, quien hizo epítomes de todos los saberes siguiendo el método ramista. Freigius (1543-1583), pese a gozar de una vida más breve que la de su maestro, fue un autor muy prolífico y resultó crucial para la divulgación del método ramista, especialmente entre los juristas de Basilea y de algunas ciudades germánicas26. Fuese bien por una exigencia docente, bien por una vocación personal, lo cierto es que Freigius expandió hasta el límite la idea enciclopedista que se hallaba in nuce en el último Ramus y dio un impulso fundamental al ramismo jurídico, al usar su método para exponer todas las fuentes del derecho27, especialmente el justinianeo. Freigius fue, en suma, el primer autor que ideó una enciclopedia ramista del saber, proyectando sus conocimientos de filosofía y de derecho también hacia la economía y a la política28, dos disciplinas que pronto, gracias al desarrollo del método ramista, se configuraron como saberes autónomos y se emanciparon de la tutela del derecho y de la filosofía. El hecho de que todas las materias tuvieran que ser independientes metodológicamente fue un gran estímulo para la política, que era un saber emergente, en el que Ramus estaba trabajando en el momento de su muerte, que acabó constituyendo una disciplina específica29. 25 VAsoli, c., Le Accademie fra Cinquecento e Seicento e il loro ruolo nella storia della tradizione enciclopedica, en boehm, l.; rAimondi, e. (eds.), Università, Accademie e Società scientifiche in Italia e in Germania dal Cinquecento al Settecento (Bologna, 1981), pp. 81-115. 26 rAmis bArceló, r., Petrus Ramus y el derecho, cit. (n. 16), pp. 130-139. 27 Freigius, J., Partitiones iuris utriusque: hoc est, omnium iuris tam civilis quam canonici materiarum [...] digestio (Basileae, 1571). 28 Freigius, J., Quaestiones Œconomicae et Politicae (Basileae, 1578). 29 Acerca de la edición de la política de Aristóteles, véase shArrAtt, P., Ramus’s Engagement with Aristotle’s Politics, en meerhoFF, K.; moisAn, J. c. (eds.), Autour de Ramus. Texte, théorie, commentaire (Québec, 1997), pp. 137-184. Sobre el desarrollo de la política ramista, rAmis bArceló, r., Los márgenes de la Reforma: Petrus Ramus, el calvinismo y la autonomía del saber político, en Hispania Sacra, 141 (2018), pp. 51-63. 431El dErEcho En El EnciclopEdismo dEl siglo XVi En el libro que dedicó a Freigius, Aldo Mazzacane30 develó algunas de las causas de su escasa fortuna: entre ellas, cabe citar su aislamiento y su obsesión con el ramismo, la falta de adaptación a otro método pedagógico y su marcada ideología, que hicieron de él un autor problemático, obligado a cambiar de ciudad y ocupación muchas veces. Hay que pensar que su prematura muerte impidió, probablemente, una mayor maduración de sus cualidades, entre las que sobresalían la laboriosidad y la claridad. Tales consideraciones no empecen el mérito de Freigius en su idea de escribir tratados pedagógicos de corte ramista y de ir construyendo una enciclopedia ra- mista de todo el saber. En el desarrollo del ramismo jurídico, Freigius desplegó, a nuestro entender, tres aspectos fundamentales: en primer lugar, la divulgación de obras jurídicas con el método de Ramus, en segundo lugar, la aplicación del método a las principales obras del derecho romano y, por último, una apertura hacia el enciclopedismo, que daría frutos especialmente en el siglo XVII. 2. Antoine Loisel Ramus había dado un impulso fundamental al derecho consuetudinario31. Durante los años centrales del siglo XVI, el droit coutumier se había afianzado con fuerza y había logrado desplazar paulatinamente al derecho romano como fundamento del derecho nacional francés. La tendencia enciclopédica y axiomática del droit coutumier francés concluyó en 1607 con la publicación de la obra magna del albacea de Ramus, Antoine Loisel (1536–1617), que puede ser considerada como uno de los frutos más maduros del ramismo jurídico. Loisel estuvo unos cuarenta años puliendo la que tenía que ser su obra maestra, que empezó cuando su maestro y amigo Pierre de la Ramée aún vivía. Al publi- carla, tuvo un éxito formidable, que superó al que habían tenido todas las demás obras sobre el derecho consuetudinario en Francia, incluyendo L’Institution au droit des Français32, de Guy Coquille, editada póstumamente también en 1607. Cuando Loisel publicó sus Institutes coutumières33, hacía ya treinta y cinco años del asesinato de Ramus, aunque la obra parecía ajustarse con bastante fidelidad 30 mAzzAcAne, A., Scienza, Logica e Ideologia nella Giurisprudenza tedesca del secolo XVI (Milano, 1971), pp. 156-157. 31 Angelini, A., Metodo ed Enciclopedia nel cinquecento francese, cit. (n. 7), p. 114. “Teoriche perché il costume e la consuetudine venivano avanzati, nel secondo Cinquecento, come documento di un’attenzione della teoria giuridica al piano della prassi e dell’esperienza, e dunque opposti a una concezione puramente teorica della giurisprudenza, avvertita come dogmatica, autoritativa e anti- scientifica. Dall’orientamento ‘cutumier’ sembrava potesse derivare non solo una ‘scientia’ e un ‘ars’ giuridica capace di coniugare –in sintonia con il ramismo– teoria e pratica, ma anche una disciplina autonoma, come la ‘lex iustitiae’ di Ramo proscriveva, emancipata dalla prospettiva sermocinale e pansofica, dello ‘ius’ romano. In sostanza, dall’ambito dei propalatori di una riforma del diritto con- suetudinario derivava un’istanza di forte specializzazione ‘professionale’ della disciplina –della quale gli ‘avocats’ che erano stati allievi di Ramo davano concreta testimonianza– che rispondeva tanto al requisito ramista delle discipline, quanto a quello, egualmente ramista, del loro carattere ‘usager’ ”. 32 Coquille, G., Institution au droict des françois (Paris, 1607). 33 loisel, A., Institutes coustumières ou Manuel de plusieurs et diverses reigles, sentences et pro- verbes, tant anciens que modernes, du droit coustumier et plus ordinaire de la France (Paris, 1607). Rafael Ramis BaRceló432 rehJ. Xl (2018) a las indicaciones que había hecho el maestro en sus últimas versiones de la dia- léctica y, especialmente, en Scholarum mathematicarum: establecer un conjunto de leyes sencillas para Francia siguiendo el modelo de la Ley de las XII Tablas. Loisel había transformado su obra en un pequeño código axiomático, pensado para que todos pudieran saber y conocer el derecho francés. En realidad, lo que había hecho Loisel era dar cumplimiento a las ideas que expuso Ramus en su Scholarum mathematicarum, a saber, una sistematización de las normas del derecho francés expuestas de forma axiomática, como un edificio jurídico elaborado de pequeños bloques perfectamente homogéneos y ensambla- dos unos con los otros. Para ello, tomó breves sentencias y refranes procedentes del acervo antiguo de las costumbres francesas, a fin de elaborar axiomas con los que construyó un cuerpo unitario de derecho francés, de vocación compendiosa. Esta obra estaba dividida en seis libros: los cuatro primeros trataban cuestiones de derecho civil, mientras que el quinto estaba destinado al derecho procesal y el sexto al derecho penal. Creemos que debe valorarse esta obra de Loisel como el producto más acaba- do y genuino del droit coutumier de orientación ramista34, en plena consonancia con los ideales del maestro picardo, que inspiraron diferentes formas de enfocar y sistematizar el derecho. iii. el enciclopedismo lulistA AplicAdo Al derecho Así como el ramismo pretendía una revolución desde abajo (es decir, desde las artes liberales), igualando los conocimientos a partir de la dialéctica y las matemáticas, el lulismo defendía una unificación de los saberes a partir de unos principios filosóficos y teológicos. Por esta razón, el ramismo estaba más cerca de la práctica y convencía a los juristas por su claridad, mientras que el lulismo era mucho más teórico y resultaba más ambicioso epistemológicamente. Hubo diversas enciclopedias de corte luliano en las que se trataban cues- tiones muy variadas, aunque nunca profundizaban en el derecho. Cabe citar la Encyclopaediae35 de Paulus Skalic y La piazza vniuersale36 de Tomasso Garzoni, que era un elenco de todas las profesiones. La aplicación del enciclopedismo al derecho tuvo, desde la perspectiva luliana, dos vertientes: por un lado, la de una enciclopedia del derecho, en el que se enfatizaban las relaciones y conexiones con las demás disciplinas, y, por otro, la de una enciclopedia general de todos los saberes, entre los que había el derecho (en el marco de la ética y de la política). El representante más genuino de la primera corriente fue Pierre de Grégoire y, el de la segunda, Valerio Valier. 34 rAmis bArceló, R., Petrus Ramus y el derecho, cit. (n. 16), pp. 187-189. Véase reulos, M., Étude sur l’esprit, les sources et la méthode des Institutes coutumières d’Antoine Loisel (Paris, 1935). La influencia de Ramus se explicita en la p. 13. 35 sKAlic, p., Encyclopaediae, seu orbis disciplinarum, tam sacrarum, quam profanarum epistemon (Basileae, 1559). 36 gArzoni, t., La piazza vniuersale di tutte le professioni del mondo (Vinetia, 1588). 433El dErEcho En El EnciclopEdismo dEl siglo XVi 1. Pierre de Grégoire Petrus Gregorius Tholosanus (1540–1597), pertenece por mérito propio a la historia del derecho y a la historia de la filosofía. Como jurista y filósofo, trató de fundamentar tanto el derecho como los demás saberes. No fue un lulista puro, sino un autor ecléctico. Tenía, por un lado, una gran confianza en el Arte de Llull como instrumento epistemológico para la renovación del saber y, por otro, un gran interés en el hermetismo, para llegar a los principios ocultos del mismo. Su obra jurídica es, sin lugar a dudas, más reconocida que la filosófica, pues su síntesis de todos los derechos intentaba ser un importante paso teorizante para el saber jurídico, aunque no terminó de cuajar37. Grégoire intentó aplicar el pre- racionalismo enciclopedista de corte filosófico al derecho y crear, de esta forma, una nueva búsqueda de los principios generales de todo el saber. Su principal escrito fue Syntaxes artis mirabilis38. A esta obra, reimpresa en Lyon nuevamente en 1585 y en Colonia por el editor Zetzner, se le añadió un epítome de todo el derecho, titulado Syntagma juris universi39. Syntaxes artis mi- rabilis fue una enciclopedia de las ciencias, la alquimia, la magia, la astrología y las matemáticas, que convivían con la filosofía y el derecho40. Grégoire, desde sus escritos de juventud, exigía que los juristas dominasen las lenguas clásicas (griego y hebreo) y la teología, la metafísica, la astrología y el quadrivium. No se contentaba con reducir todo el derecho a un arte, pues para él –igual que para Llull– el derecho era sólo una parte de una aspiración global al saber, de modo que no podía estudiarse de forma aislada, sino en relación con las demás disciplinas (aritmética, astronomía, geometría, etc.). Pese al ambicioso plan de Grégoire, la obra no acabó de resultar tal enciclo- pedia, ni una ciencia de las ciencias, sino más bien un embrollo de datos, casi siempre caótico. Su planteamiento supuso un intento tan notable como indigesto y malogrado de construcción de la enciclopedia de los saberes de su tiempo (teolo- gía, filosofía, astronomía, etc.41). Sus esfuerzos pueden valorarse como un intento bienintencionado y erudito, aunque fracasado, de construir una enciclopedia 37 piAno mortAri, V., Diritto Romano e Diritto Nazionale in Francia nel secolo XVI (Milano, 1962), pp. 141-143. Un paso más allá lo dio Miguel Gómez de Luna y Arellano en el siglo XVII. Véase rAmis bArceló, R., La obra jurídica de Miguel Gómez de Luna y Arellano: derecho, racionalismo y lulismo en la España del XVII, en Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español, 83 (2013), pp. 413-435. 38 grégoire, P. de, Syntaxes artis mirabilis, in libros septem digestae. Per quas de omni re proposita [...] disputari aut tractari, omniumque summaria cognitio haberi potest (Lugduni, 1575). 39 grégoire, p. de, Syntagma Iuris Universi atque legum pene omnicum rerumpublicarum praecipuarum in tres parte digestum (Lugduni, 1582). 40 grégoire, P. de, Syntaxes artis mirabilis, in libros septem digestae, cit. (n. 38), p. 125: “Et arithmetices subjectum, numerum: astrologie, celum: geometrie passiones et corporum magnitudines: iustitia, iuris civilis et sic de similibus, que haec omnia in nostra arte rationes sibi comparare possunt, sicuti et Aristoteles earum omnium effectricem rhetoricam ratus est, in quan facultas discutiendi, quod in una quaque re, probabilis videatur”. 41 cArrerAs ArtAu, J. y T., Historia de la filosofía española. cit. (n. 5), pp. 234-235. Véase también rAmis bArceló, r., Las referencias lulianas en el humanismo jurídico francés: Andreas Tiraquellus y Petrus Gregorius Tholosanus, en Anuario de la Facultad de Dereito da Universidade da Coruña, 17 (2013), pp. 481-485. Rafael Ramis BaRceló434 rehJ. Xl (2018) que fuese un saber de saberes, en el que también participase el derecho. Estas tentativas dieron un fuerte impulso a esta tendencia, que acabó cristalizando en el conjunto de enciclopedias del siglo XVII, que vindicaban a Grégoire como su (frustrado) precursor. 2. Valerio Valier El patricio veneciano Valerio de Valeriis escribió su Aureum sane opus42, una enciclopedia de carácter exclusivamente luliana, en la que utilizaba el Arbor scientiae para desarrollar las claves de acceso al saber. Se trataba de un lulismo con influencias del escotismo, de Agrippa y de Bruno, aunque, en su estructura, seguía con bastante fidelidad la obra luliana43. Lo cierto es que, a diferencia de lo que sucedía con Grégoire, Valier fue un autor muy claro y sistemático: por esa razón, su exposición resultaba comprensible e incluso atractiva para las mentes especulativas. Para Valier, el árbol de la ciencia era el fundamento metafísico de la realidad, que se iba desgranando en los diversos árboles. Los que más afectaban al derecho eran los árboles moral, imperial y apostolical. El problema de la obra de Valeriis era su densidad conceptual y, sobre todo, la falta de contacto con la práctica legal. Este punto resultaba fundamental para el éxito de una enciclopedia en la que se tratasen los conceptos jurídicos. Los juristas no se fijaban tanto en la altura de miras filosófica como en los detalles prácticos en la aplicación legal. Así como los aspectos metafísicos quedaban sólidamente apuntalados (junto con los principios y las reglas), la obra descendía poco a las cuestiones prácticas, y realmente no ofrecía una síntesis del derecho, puesto que el Arbor scientiae sólo se refería a los grandes temas de la política y la ética. Por esa razón, la obra tuvo mucha aceptación entre los lulistas y los interesados en la enciclopedia, aunque tuvo una incidencia muy pobre en el ámbito del derecho. Con todo, hay que mencionarla porque fue muy leída y consultada, sobre todo durante la primera mitad del siglo XVII. iV. lA síntesis de r Amismo y lulismo Desde 1580, asistimos a la armonización del ramismo con otras tendencias intelectuales (filipismo, lulismo, aristotelismo, etc.). La unión del lulismo y del ramismo con otras propuestas metodológicas dio lugar a un renovado enciclope- dismo, cuyos frutos más importantes se dieron en el siglo XVII. Aquí haremos alusión a dos enciclopedias sincréticas escritas en el último tercio del siglo XVI. 1. Christophe de Savigny Nacido en la década de 1530, probablemente Savigny, provenía de una familia 42 VAleriis, V., Aureum sane opus, in quo ea omnia breuiter explicantur, quae scientiarum omnium parens, Raymundus Lullus, tam in scientiarum arbore, quam arte generali tradit (Augustae Vindelicorum, 1589). 43 rossi, p., Clavis universalis, cit. (n. 5), pp. 67-68 y cArrerAs ArtAu, J. y T., Historia de la filosofia española, cit. (n. 5), pp. 235-237. 435El dErEcho En El EnciclopEdismo dEl siglo XVi aristocrática. Abrazó la Reforma y mantuvo estrechas relaciones con diferentes correligionarios. Desconocemos la fecha exacta de su muerte, que puede situarse entre 1585 y 1590. Apenas tenemos datos de este autor, que fue el primer gran enciclopedista francés, seguidor de Ramus y amigo de sus discípulos y más estre- chos colaboradores, así como también partidario de algunas ideas de Llull, como puede verse en Tableaux accomplis de tous les arts libéraux44. Lo que más interesa aquí es el tratamiento que se hacía del derecho en esta obra, dividida en dieciséis tablas o disciplinas (Grammaire, Rhétorique, Dialectique, Arithmétique, Géométrie, Optique, Musique, Cosmographie, Astrologie, Géographie, Physique, Médecine, Ethique, Jurisprudence, Histoire, Table théologique), que no presentaban un orden jerárquico entre sí, tal y como Ramus vindicaba. La síntesis jurídica que hizo Savigny estaba a medio camino entre el derecho romano y el derecho consuetudinario francés. Pueden hallarse influencias de diferentes autores, tal y como mostró Angelini. El influjo de los ramistas es muy evidente y Savigny indicó que Nicolas Bergeron, jurista y albacea de Ramus, le había inspirado en la confección de esta obra45. Lo más interesante es analizar la síntesis entre el derecho romano y el derecho consuetudinario, en esta enciclopedia más ramista que lulista: Angelini observó la influencia de Pasquier, Loisel y Bergeron (tres ramistas partidarios del droit coutu- mier) en esta obra, que buscaba organizar y sistematizar el derecho46, y ponerlo a la altura de los demás saberes en todos los sentidos (es decir, hacer de él un saber sistemático, homogéneo y conforme a las reglas de Ramus47). 2. Leonardo Fioravanti Fioravanti (1517–88), médico boloñés, escribió diversas obras, entre la que sobresale Dello specchio di scientia universale48, una enciclopedia más ramista que luliana, y más pseudo-luliana que propiamente luliana, por el lugar que desem- peñan en ella los saberes alquímicos y herméticos49. La concordancia con el ramismo se halla en el tratamiento homogéneo de todos los saberes a partir de las artes liberales. El primer libro agrupaba disciplinas como la agricultura, la medicina, la milicia, la cirugía, el arte del sastre, del cocinero, etc. El segundo libro, después de tratar de las diversas materias de filosofía, y de todas las ciencias en general, se detuvo en la gramática, en la filosofía, en la ciencia de la razón y de las leyes, del regimiento de los príncipes y de la justicia, de la 44 sAVigny, c. de, Tableaux accomplis de tous les arts libéraux, contenans brièvement et clere- ment par singulière méthode de doctrine, une générale et sommaire partition des dicts arts, amassez et reduicts en ordre pour le soulagement et profit de la jeunesse (Paris, 1587). 45 Angelini, A., Metodo ed Enciclopedia nel cinquecento francese, cit. (n. 7), p. 161: “Au reste tous ces 3 lieux communs de persones, de choses d’actions se traitant coiontement plus au long et au large és livres des Pandectes et du Code selon l’ordre iudicaire, etc. comme vous le pourrez apprendre par les escritz methodiques de Monsieur Bergeron, mon bon amy et conseil, qui nous a presté la main a dresser la presente”. 46 Ibíd., p. 123. 47 rAmis bArceló, R., Petrus Ramus y el derecho, cit. (n. 16), pp. 186-187. 48 FiorAVAnti, l., Dello Specchio di Scientia Vniversale (Venetia, 1567). 49 rAmis bArceló, r., Más referencias lulianas desconocidas, cit. (n. 14), p. 19. Rafael Ramis BaRceló436 rehJ. Xl (2018) política, de las leyes comunes, de la retórica, etc. Fioravanti vindicó la unidad de todos los saberes y, al tratar las materias jurídicas, siguió la tradición justinianea y la historia de Roma. Su interés no radica tanto en el contenido, sino en la disposición de los sabe- res y el tratamiento del derecho. Lo más importante de esta enciclopedia, como otras obras sincréticas publicadas durante la segunda mitad del siglo XVI, es la reducción del derecho a un mero capítulo (o varios) del saber universal, dispuesto en un plano de igualdad con otros saberes no universitarios y otros que estaban empezándose a desarrollar en aquellas décadas (especialmente, la política). conclusiones y reFleXión FinAl En el siglo XVI se retomó el enciclopedismo, como apuesta intelectual para integrar los diferentes saberes en un marco unitario. La tradición luliana, muy presente ya en el siglo XV, tuvo un gran desarrollo en la centuria siguiente, que fascinó a quienes querían lograr un saber de saberes, mientras que el ramismo propugnaba una revolución metodológica a partir de las artes liberales, particular- mente desde la dialéctica y las matemáticas. El enciclopedismo ramista representaba más bien una puesta al día de la obra de Beauvais, con una actualización de la dialéctica de corte ciceroniano y una nueva aspiración de la matemática como clave de la ciencia universal. Estas enciclopedias facilitaron un gran desarrollo de las artes liberales, junto con otros saberes nuevos (historia, política, alquimia, etc.), que tuvieron un gran impulso en el Renacimiento. El derecho (civil y canónico), en aquel momento, era un saber superior universitario que, junto con la teología y la medicina, tenía un estatus más privilegiado que los demás. Las enciclopedias integraron al derecho en pie de igualdad con los demás saberes y obligaron a que el saber jurídico tuviese que ser sistematizado para poder figurar como un epítome más del conjunto del conocimiento en estas enciclopedias. Al confrontar el saber jurídico con los demás saberes, tanto los enciclopedistas como los juristas pudieron corroborar que el saber jurídico estaba mucho más estancado que la geometría, la aritmética, la medicina o la astronomía, y que incluso saberes más novedosos, como la alquimia, la historia o la política, estaban ofreciendo avances espectaculares, que el derecho no parecía experimentar. El siglo XVI fue una época de gran indefinición metodológica para los juris- tas, que buscaban nuevos caminos, más allá de los que les ofrecía el humanismo renovador y el bartolismo tradicional. Los juristas buscaban infructuosamente un nuevo método para organizar el saber jurídico. En este sentido, el lulismo era una vía muy atractiva, aunque tal vez demasiado teórica para los juristas, mientras que el ramismo era mucho más práctico y más inteligible para ordenar los materiales ya existentes. Con el lulismo se podía lograr una fundamentación del derecho, a partir de unos primeros principios filosófico-teológicos, mientras que el ramismo buscaba una base matemática y dialéctica, para organizar tanto el derecho romano como el consuetudinario. El enciclopedismo de esta centuria se plasmó en muchos proyectos que no 437El dErEcho En El EnciclopEdismo dEl siglo XVi alcanzaron su objetivo de forma convincente. Los lulistas se quedaron en la especulación y los ramistas en una ordenación (una nueva dispositio) de lo que ya tenían. Sin embargo, al buscar un método sincrético, estas enciclopedias su- pieron conjugar lo mejor de Llull (la fundamentación) y de Ramus (el orden y la claridad), sin despreciar lo que podía aportar la tradición aristotélica. Con ello, se iba abriendo paso el sincretismo enciclopedista, que conocería sus obras más maduras en el siglo XVII. El derecho necesitaba un método que aunara la combinatoria luliana y la axio- mática ramista con la flexibilidad metodológica que ofrecía la filosofía aristotélica. Cada una de estas enciclopedias ensayaba un camino que buscaba integrar todo el saber en una estructura homogénea. De esta forma, las enciclopedias eran, al mismo tiempo, una propuesta metodológica y una síntesis compendiosa de todo el saber. Aunque no se haya estudiado mucho todavía, lo cierto es que, en cuanto al derecho, estas enciclopedias fueron t e s t s con los que se fue analizando y re- pensando la estructura epistemológica del saber jurídico, no sólo en sí mismo, sino también en relación a los demás saberes, que estaban sometidos al mismo t e s t . Puede decirse que el siglo XVI fue solamente una época de preparación para el espectacular desarrollo de las enciclopedias del siglo XVII. El enciclopedismo ramista (Freigius y Loisel), el lulista (Grégoire y Valier) y el sincrético (Savigny y Fioravanti) desembocaría en otras enciclopedias sincréticas, en las que el lulis- mo, el ramismo y el aristotelismo desempeñaron un papel diferente, y que son su continuación en la historia del enciclopedismo (Giulio Pace50, Keckermann, Alsted51, etc.), que ya no podemos tratar aquí. Desde 1580, aproximadamente, los autores buscaron un método único que sirviese no sólo para ordenar, sino también para relacionar todos los saberes, en la búsqueda de un metasaber o un saber universal. Casi hasta los albores de la Ilustración se mantuvo el ideal de un método único que sirviese tanto para el derecho, como para la geometría, la historia, la medicina o la teología. Esta vocación enciclopédica ya puede verse claramente a finales del siglo XVi. Por ejemplo, Laurentius Finckelthaus (1555-1606), jurista, pensador y poeta, que resume el anhelo de su época: “[...] Iurisprudentia (inquiens) est diuinarum atque humanarum rerum noticia, iusti atque iniusti scientia. Qui eandem alibi artem boni et aequi et veram Philosophiam, non simulatam, appellat. Aut igitur haec ciuilis sapientia, scientia meritò est, ac nominatur, aut nullam Philosophiae partem sub hac scientiae siue mauis germani sapientiae studii, quod orbem illum disciplinarum, Encyclopaediam vulgò, dictum, complectitur, nomenclatione contineri credamus”52. Cabe decir que, si el lulismo había dominado la primera mitad del siglo XVI y había tenido un competidor serio en el ramismo durante la segunda mitad de 50 rAmis bArceló, r., Giulio Pace (1550-1635): Humanismo jurídico, ramismo y lulismo, en Historia Iuris. Estudios dedicados al profesor Santos M. Coronas González, II (Oviedo, 2014), pp. 1345-1356 y rAmis bArceló, R., Petrus Ramus y el derecho, cit. (n. 16), pp. 181-184. 51 hotson, H., Johann Heinrich Alsted, 1588-1638: Between Renaissance, Reformation, and Universal Reform (Oxford, 2000). 52 FincKelthusii, l., Commentatiuncula sive oratio de certitudine iurisprudentiae et causis mutationis legum (Rostochii, 1598), s.f. Rafael Ramis BaRceló438 rehJ. Xl (2018) la centuria, a medida que trascurría el siglo XVII el lulismo quedó reforzado, mientras que el ramismo quedaba cada vez más disuelto en otras corrientes, par- ticularmente el lulismo y el aristotelismo. De ahí que los enciclopedistas fueran, cada vez en mayor medida, lulistas y/o aristotélicos. En la misma dirección, los teóricos del derecho de esta época experimentaron con Aristóteles y Llull, buscando un nuevo método jurídico. Las búsquedas metodológicas de los juristas y los modelos de enciclopedia que se iban gestando permitieron un diálogo que enriqueció mucho el saber jurídico. El enciclopedismo del siglo XVII representó un esfuerzo de síntesis entre las doctrinas luliana, ramista, aristotélica y la nueva ciencia (encabezada por Bacon) que llegó hasta Leibniz53, con aportaciones fundamentales de autores como León de Saint-Jean, Charles Sorel, Yves de Paris, Juan Caramuel, Athana- sius Kircher, etc.54, que construyeron sus enciclopedias e hicieron también sus respectivas síntesis del saber jurídico, que alcanzó su consumación definitiva con las transformaciones de Leibniz55. No podemos explicar aquí el papel desarrollado por el enciclopedismo para la transformación del saber jurídico (como estructura, método y contenido) hasta Leibniz. Tal labor queda para ulteriores trabajos. Lo cierto es que, en definitiva, en el siglo XVI tomó cuerpo esta corriente enciclopedista en el que todas las disciplinas tenían un valor similar en un mapa general del conocimiento, en el cual el derecho pasaba a formar parte de esta vasta panoplia de saberes. La aplicación de un método único (aunque fuese sincrético), a todas las disciplinas en el marco de una enciclopedia tuvo su culminación en el racionalismo del siglo XVII y, sin duda, fue uno de los vectores que contribuyeron a la configuración definitiva de la metodología jurídica de la Modernidad. bibliogr AFíA Angelini, A., Metodo ed Enciclopedia nel cinquecento francese. I. Il pensiero di Pietro Ramo all’origine dell’enciclopedismo moderno (Firenze, 2008). bAde, J.; de lAVinhetA, B., Arbor scientiae venerabilis et caelitus Illuminati Patris Raymundi Lullii Maioricensis (Lugduni, 1515). berns, J. J., Bildenzyklopädistik 1550-1650, en schierbAum, M. (ed.), Enzyklopädistik 1550-1650. Typen und Transformationen von Wissensspeichern und Medialisierungen des Wissens (Münster, 2009). Bonner, A., El arte luliana como método, del Renacimiento a Leibniz, en domínguez, F.; de sAlAs, J. (ed.), Constantes y fragmentos del pensamiento luliano. 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CostA, A., La Combinatoire juridique de Bernardus De Lavinheta, en Dixseptième siècle, 279 (2018). Coquille, G., Institution au droict des françois (Paris, 1607). couzinet, M.-D., L’encyclopédie comme programme éducatif chez Pierre Ramus: conjonc- tion ou réduction?, en correArd, N.; teulAde, A., Questions sur l’encyclopédisme. Le cercle des savoirs de l’Antiquité aux Lumières (Nantes, 2018). —Pierre Ramus et la critique du pédantisme: philosophie, humanisme et culture scolaire au XVIe siècle (Paris, 2015). —La “conjonction” entre les disciplines chez Pierre de La Ramée, en FerrAnd, M.; is- tAsse, N. (eds.), Nouveaux regards sur les «Apollons de collège»: Figures du professeur humaniste en France dans la première moitié du XVIe siècle (Genève, 2014). elíAs de teJAdA, F.; percopo, g., Historia del pensamiento político catalán (Sevilla, Montejurra, 1963). eXeA, A., Pactorum liber unus (Lugduni, 1542). FiorAVAnti, l., Dello Specchio di Scientia Vniversale (Venetia, 1567). FincKelthusii, l., Commentatiuncula sive oratio de certitudine iurisprudentiae et causis mutationis legum (Rostochii, 1598), s.f. Freigius, J., Quaestiones Œconomicae et Politicae (Basileae, 1578). Freigius, J., Partitiones iuris utriusque: hoc est, omnium iuris tam civilis quam canonici materiarum [...] digestio (Basileae, 1571). gArzoni, t., La piazza vniuersale di tutte le professioni del mondo (Vinetia, 1588). goulding, R., Defending Hypathia. Ramus, Savile, and the Renaissance Rediscovery of Mathematical History (Dordrecht, 2010). —Mathematics and Method: Petrus Ramus and the History of the Sciences, en Journal of the History of Ideas, 67 (2006). grégoire, P. de, Syntaxes artis mirabilis, in libros septem digestae. Per quas de omni re proposita [...] disputari aut tractari, omniumque summaria cognitio haberi po- test (Lugduni, 1575). —Syntagma Iuris Universi atque legum pene omnicum rerumpublicarum praecipuarum in tres parte digestum (Lugduni, 1582). 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(ed.), Contributions to the Lullian Session at the SIEPM Congress-Freising, August 20-25, 2012 (Turnhout, 2015). —Algunas perspectivas nuevas para la historia del lulismo: referencias lulianas desconocidas en textos impresos del siglo XVI, en Antonianum, 90/3 (2015). —Lulismo y derecho en Italia durante el Renacimiento, en romAno, M. (ed.), Il lullismo in Italia: itinerario storico-critico. Volume miscellaneo in occasione del VII centenario della morte di Raimondo Lullo. In memoria di Alessandro Musco (Roma, 2015). —Giulio Pace (1550-1635): Humanismo jurídico, ramismo y lulismo, en Historia Iuris. Estudios dedicados al profesor Santos M. Coronas González, II (Oviedo, 2014). —Las referencias lulianas en el humanismo jurídico francés: Andreas Tiraquellus y Petrus Gregorius Tholosanus, en Anuario de la Facultad de Dereito da Universidade da Coruña, 17 (2013). —La obra jurídica de Miguel Gómez de Luna y Arellano: derecho, racionalismo y lulismo en la España del XVII, en Anuario de Historia del Derecho Español, 83 (2013). —La recepción de las ideas jurídicas de Ramon Llull en los siglos XV y XVI, en REHJ., 34 (2012). rAmus, P., Scholae in liberales artes (Basileae, 1569). —Scholarum mathematicarum, libri unus et triginta (Basileae, 1569). reulos, M., Étude sur l’esprit, les sources et la méthode des Institutes coutumières d’An- toine Loisel (Paris, 1935). reisch, g., Margarita Philosophica (Freiburg, 1503). risse, w., Die Entwicklung der Dialektik bei Petrus Ramus, en Archiv fur die Geschichte der Philosophie, 92 (1960). rossi, p., Clavis universalis. El arte de la memoria y la lógica combinatoria de Lulio a Leibniz (México, 1989). —The Legacy of Ramon Lull in Sixteenth-Century Thought, en Mediaeval and Renais- sance Studies, 5 (1961). sAVigny, c. de, Tableaux accomplis de tous les arts libéraux, contenans brièvement et 441El dErEcho En El EnciclopEdismo dEl siglo XVi clerement par singulière méthode de doctrine, une générale et sommaire partition des dicts arts, amassez et reduicts en ordre pour le soulagement et profit de la jeunesse (Paris, 1587). shArrAtt, P., Ramus’s Engagement with Aristotle’s Politics, en meerhoFF, K.; moisAn, J. c. (eds.), Autour de Ramus. Texte, théorie, commentaire (Québec, 1997). simone, F., La notion d’Encyclopédie: élément caractéristique de la Renaissance française, en shArrAtt, P. (dir.), French Renaissance Studies (1540-70). Humanism and the Encyclopedia (Edinburgh, 1976). sKAlic, p., Encyclopaediae, seu orbis disciplinarum, tam sacrarum, quam profanarum epistemon (Basileae, 1559). tegA, w., Encyclopédie et unité du savoir de Bacon à Leibniz, en becq, A. (ed.), L’En- cyclopédisme (Paris, 1991). trAninger, A., The Secret of Success: Ramism and Lullism as Contending Methods, en reid, S. J.; wilson, E. A. (ed.), Ramus, Pedagogy and the Liberal Arts: Ramism in Britain and the Wider World (Aldershot, 2011). VAleriis, V., Aureum sane opus, in quo ea omnia breuiter explicantur, quae scientiarum omnium parens, Raymundus Lullus, tam in scientiarum arbore, quam arte generali tradit (Augustae Vindelicorum, 1589). VAsoli, c., Le Accademie fra Cinquecento e Seicento e il loro ruolo nella storia della tradizione enciclopedica, en boehm, l.; rAimondi, e. (eds.), Università, Accademie e Società scientifiche in Italia e in Germania dal Cinquecento al Settecento (Bologna, 1981). VAsoli, c., L’Enciclopedismo del Seicento (Napoli, 1978). VAsoli, c., Enciclopedismo, pansofia e riforma metodica del diritto nella ‘Nova methodus’ di Leibniz, en Quaderni Fiorentini per la storia del pensiero giuridico moderno, 2 (1973). VAsoli, c., La dialettica et la retorica dell’umanesimo. ‘Invenzione’ e ‘metodo’ nella cultura del XV e XVI secolo (Milano, 1968). Victor, J. M., Jacques Lefèvre d’Étaples, Charles de Bovelles and Bernardo de Lavinheta: The Revival of Lullism at Paris 1499-1516, en Renaissance Quartely 28 (1975). yAtes, F.A., Lull & Bruno. Collected Essays (London, 1982), I. yAtes, F. A., The Art of Memory (London, 2011 [1966]). 
work_y4tf2zzr7rdcbgpxjnykyioooq	----	doi: Book Reviews 399 However, much like today, eighteenth-century innovators stepped into the marketplace, offering devices designed to improve ventilation. Chapter 3 (‘Artificial Airs’) highlights some of these technologies. Readers may recognise their own modern window fans in Thomas Tidd’s ‘Aeolus’, introduced in the early 1750s and named after the ancient god of wind. Such devices were popular among royalty and other élites: ‘ventilation stirred an enormous public interest and soon lived to become an emblem of enlightened rationality and domestic ideals of comfort’ (p. 69). Jankovic argues that such interest indicated a re-definition of health and disease that only made sense when the body was analysed in relation to its immediate surroundings. Clothing may seem an unlikely candidate for inclusion in a book ostensibly about air, but chapter 4 (‘Intimate Climates’) shows that it was an essential part of the eighteenth- century British health regimen. The concept of ‘insensible perspiration’, first popularised by Sanctorius in the early seventeenth century, convinced physicians that the control of sweating – encouraging and discouraging it as appropriate – was vital to the maintenance of health. Accordingly, ‘experiments on thickness, texture, colour and hygroscopic and insulating properties of materials formed a basis for an emerging theory of dress’ (p. 94). While the medical profession defended traditional English wool flannel for its insulating properties, the public increasingly embraced new, lighter and more comfortable cotton and linen offerings. In his discussion of ‘friction between the flannelists and the fashionable’, Jankovic illuminates the fascinating and unexpected convergence of fashion, medical theory and the economics of textiles (p. 106). In his final chapter (‘The Choice of Airs’), Jankovic explores the rise and fall of health travel. Although Edenic images of the Mediterranean made such travel popular during most of the eighteenth century, criticism of the practice increased by the 1830s as medical experts sought more than just anecdotal evidence before recommending it to their patients. Jankovic shows how two factors – the release of health data on the British Navy and changing views on the aetiology of consumption – seemed to contradict long-held assumptions about the salubrity of warm, mild climates. Jankovic shows that the ensuing debate was less about the healthfulness of the Mediterranean than about ‘the proper place of science in medical travel and professional credentials’ (p. 142). Jankovic has painted a lively and fascinating picture of a ‘society on the defensive’ (p. 154) against a wide range of aerial threats. Importantly, he reminds us that the quality of air was a luxury that only privileged classes could afford to contemplate. For most of the year, the poor faced the daily challenge of simply staying warm. But among the better-off, it was the ‘manufactured propriety and the ritual care of material accoutrements in indoor space by middle-class households that made cleaning, airing, heating, ironing, bleaching and dusting necessary ingredients of a decent life and – by degrees – the social origins of modern notions of a healthy environment’ (p. 153). Mariel Wolfson Harvard University Lars Ole Andersen, Før placeboeffekten. Indbildningskraftens virkning i 1800-tallets medicin (København: Museum Tusculanums Forlag, 2011), pp. 249, $43/e 34, illus, paperback, ISBN: 978-8-7635-2590-9. In 1801, after having performed several trials on the medical treatment Perkins’ tractors and fictitious tractors, the British physician John Haygarth (1740–1827) concluded that https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2012.10 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2012.10 https://www.cambridge.org/core 400 Book Reviews ‘Imagination can cause, as well as cure, diseases of the body’. And, he added ‘I have long been aware of the great importance of medical faith. Daily experience has constantly confirmed and increased my opinion of its efficacy’. Haygarth’s statement, which is quoted in Lars Ole Andersen’s book on the history of imagination in medical practice, could hardly have been written as a medical text today. Imagination is no longer a medical term. Nevertheless, the statement is a good illustration of our everlasting fascination with the relationship between body and mind. Inspired by Reinhardt Koselleck and his theorising on the history of concepts, Andersen starts his book with a discussion on the differences and similarities between different medical concepts. In particular he concentrates on how the concept imagination, which is known as a medical term from the Renaissance, has been used. He discusses how the meaning has changed over time, and how the concept itself has caused social change. The purpose of the book is furthermore to examine the origin of the so-called blind and double-blind trials using intentionally non-effective treatments (placebos) in history. The first trials Andersen pinpoints to 1784, 1799 and 1835. In the late eighteenth and the nineteenth centuries imagination referred to how body and mind could impose upon each other, and how disease could be influenced by the mind. Besides, it was understood as the messenger that transferred and translated information from the senses into the mind. But, towards the end of the nineteenth century imagination was deprecated in medical discourse, and ‘suggestion’ and ‘psycho-therapy’ took over. The concept ‘was increasingly regarded as a negative force which could cause diseases and weaken the will of the patient’, says Andersen (p. 227). Today, and from the 1950s onwards, we speak about the ‘placebo’, i.e. a treatment which is a simulated medical intervention. And, if the patient has a perceived or an actual improvement in her or his medical condition, we talk about a ‘placebo effect’. However, the notion placebo is much older and stems from the 1780s. In the late eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries, it was defined as medication given to please. The change of concepts and their meaning, says the author, implied a shift from an interest in the faculties of the patient to an interest in the effect of the treatment and the effect of the healthcare provider. Andersen examines the use and meaning of ‘imagination’ by means of four narratives: the influence of the maternal mind upon the fetus, and three different medical methods, namely mesmerism, Perkins’ tractors and homeopathy, all initiated by physicians in the eighteenth or early nineteenth century. Andersen studies contemporary discussions on the efficacy of the methods, and trials performed to test whether they were humbug or had a real effect. The narratives are fascinating accounts of how physicians have initiated, marketed and practised methods which we today would characterise as suspect and fanciful, if not as pure quackery. However, at the time such treatments were sought by numerous patients all over Europe and in overseas countries, and had plentiful supporters within the medical profession. A hundred years from now, many of today’s medical methods will probably be questioned in the same manner. Andersen’s account is based mainly on English sources and literature. An obvious question is, therefore, why is the book published in Danish and not in English? Nevertheless, I miss more references to the development of the ideas in Scandinavian countries. Sometimes I find that the author wants too much, and that his many questions are neither clearly posed nor clearly answered, and that there are too many repetitions. Neither do I find his last chapter, where he draws the line from the eighteenth to the twenty-first century, entirely successful. However, the book is an exciting contribution to https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2012.10 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2012.10 https://www.cambridge.org/core Book Reviews 401 the history of medical concepts, medical practice and shifting views on the connection between body and mind. Aina Schiøtz University of Bergen Kathleen P. Long (ed.), Gender and Scientific Discourse in Early Modern Culture, Literary and Scientific Cultures of Early Modernity (Farnham: Ashgate, 2010), pp. xv + 313, £65.00, hardback, ISBN: 978-0-7546-6971-5. This collection of essays examines aspects of alchemy and midwifery ‘where new ideas could be tried out, old ideas given new twists, and women could participate’ (p. 3). The range of topics is very wide and provides alternative reading of familiar and unfamiliar texts. To some extent, the essays in this volume continue the enterprises begun in the 1980s to widen the canonical meaning of scientific revolution to include gender and women on the one hand, and alternative scientific enterprises, particularly natural magic and alchemy, on the other. These two different but related themes result in a rich but somewhat incoherent collection. The first two essays, by Elliott Simon and Alain Ekorong, discuss the relationship between astral magic, alchemy and the Kabbalah. Ekorong’s conclusion that the work of the sixteenth-century French Renaissance thinker Guillaume Postel is an example of ‘triumphant esotericism’ can be applied equally to these essays. Both attempt to explain the kabbalistic principle of ‘shechinah’ (Ekorong) or ‘shekhinah’ (Simon). The shechinah is a kind feminine principle in which the divine dwells, and the adept can use it to achieve knowledge and union with God. Simon argues that most of the figures we associate with the natural magic tradition, including Ficino, Pico and John Dee, united astral magic with Kabbalah in their search for human perfectibility and union with the divine and that they particularly emphasised the faculty of imagination in this quest. Ekorong demonstrates that in order to understand Postel’s discourse, commentators must be familiar with the Kabbalistic tradition. There is some redundancy in these essays, and their connection with gender discourse is somewhat tangential, but they present an interpretation of magical and alchemical theories that expand the understanding of some very complex works. Alchemy is also the focus of Kathleen Long’s very interesting essay on gendered bodies in the works of Michael Maier, who authored an influential alchemical text, Atalanta fugiens (1617), which was illustrated by Matthäus Merian. Long disputes William Newman’s and Lawrence Principe’s concentration on the actual practice of ‘chymistry’ and instead argues for its continued symbolic significance. She insists that alchemy made a space for difference in its use of hermaphroditical images, particularly the bi- gendered depiction of the ‘rebis’ or two-sexed human. The strangeness engendered by such illustrations abolished borders between binaries like male/female and human/animal and allowed thinkers like Montaigne to envision a political unity where the monstrous other (human or religious) is possible. The connection between Montaigne and alchemy is odd, considering that the French sceptic lived decades before Maier published. Equally problematic is Long’s claim that if the alchemical tradition had been taken more seriously through time, it might have allowed for a more tolerant view of homosexuality and disabilities, and the rejection of ‘eugenics, forced sterilization, institutionalization, selective abortion, and aesthetic surgery’ (p. 86). https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms. https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2012.10 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. Carnegie Mellon University, on 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:11, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use, available at https://www.cambridge.org/core/terms https://doi.org/10.1017/mdh.2012.10 https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_y6pdgedz2jep5b7eadrb55sxam	----	P R IF Y S G O L B A N G O R / B A N G O R U N IV E R S IT Y Harry Longueville Jones, FSA, Medieval Paris and the heritage measures of the July monarchy Pryce, Huw Antiquaries Journal DOI: 10.1017/S000358151600024X Published: 01/09/2016 Peer reviewed version Cyswllt i'r cyhoeddiad / Link to publication Dyfyniad o'r fersiwn a gyhoeddwyd / Citation for published version (APA): Pryce, H. (2016). Harry Longueville Jones, FSA, Medieval Paris and the heritage measures of the July monarchy. Antiquaries Journal, 96, 391-314. https://doi.org/10.1017/S000358151600024X Hawliau Cyffredinol / General rights Copyright and moral rights for the publications made accessible in the public portal are retained by the authors and/or other copyright owners and it is a condition of accessing publications that users recognise and abide by the legal requirements associated with these rights. • Users may download and print one copy of any publication from the public portal for the purpose of private study or research. • You may not further distribute the material or use it for any profit-making activity or commercial gain • You may freely distribute the URL identifying the publication in the public portal ? Take down policy If you believe that this document breaches copyright please contact us providing details, and we will remove access to the work immediately and investigate your claim. 06. Apr. 2021 https://doi.org/10.1017/S000358151600024X https://research.bangor.ac.uk/portal/en/researchoutputs/harry-longueville-jones-fsa-medieval-paris-and-the-heritage-measures-of-the-july-monarchy(ee126900-259d-485a-95f0-d3553b7f3e32).html https://research.bangor.ac.uk/portal/en/researchoutputs/harry-longueville-jones-fsa-medieval-paris-and-the-heritage-measures-of-the-july-monarchy(ee126900-259d-485a-95f0-d3553b7f3e32).html https://research.bangor.ac.uk/portal/en/researchoutputs/harry-longueville-jones-fsa-medieval-paris-and-the-heritage-measures-of-the-july-monarchy(ee126900-259d-485a-95f0-d3553b7f3e32).html https://doi.org/10.1017/S000358151600024X HARRY LONGUEVILLE JONES, FSA, MEDIEVAL PARIS AND THE HERITAGE MEASURES OF THE JULY MONARCHY Huw Pryce Huw Pryce, School of History, Welsh History and Archaeology, Bangor University, Bangor, Gwynedd LL57 2DG. Email: a.h.pryce@bangor.ac.uk This paper explores the hitherto overlooked influence of France on the archaeological interests and approach of Harry Longueville Jones (1806–70), whose best known contributions to archaeology centred on Wales. Focusing mainly on the period down to his co-founding of Archaeologia Cambrensis (1846) and the Cambrian Archaeological Association (1847), it analyses Jones’s engagement with both archaeological monuments and heritage measures in France. The discussion assesses the significance of his recording of medieval churches in and around Paris while resident in the city c 1834–1842, including an unpublished report he submitted to the Minister of Public Instruction in 1840. Attention is also given to his role as one of the corresponding members for England of the French government’s Comité historique des arts et monuments. Lastly, Jones is placed in the context of other British responses to the institutions established by the July Monarchy to study and safeguard historic monuments in France. Harry Longueville Jones (1806–70) is well known for his contribution to Welsh antiquarianism as co-founder of Archaeologia Cambrensis in 1846 and the ensuing Cambrian Archaeological Association (CAA) in 1847, initiatives with which he remained closely involved until his death. Yet, while clearly opening an important new phase in the study of the Welsh past, those initiatives may also be seen as the culmination of Jones’s increasing engagement with archaeological developments over the previous decade whose main focus lay, not in Wales, but in France. This article argues that these earlier archaeological interests and endeavours, hitherto largely overlooked, have a twofold significance. First, they throw revealing light on the making of Jones as a self-styled archaeologist thereby providing essential background to the assumptions and approaches he brought to the study of Welsh antiquities. Second, they offer a notable instance of the influence on British antiquarians and 2 others of the July Monarchy’s measures to survey and protect historic monuments in France. BACKGROUND Previous scholars have considered Jones’s various interests and accomplishments, which extended well beyond archaeology.1 However, coverage of these has been uneven. For example, his contributions to the Manchester Statistical Society, of which he became a corresponding member in 1838, have been briefly noticed, while studies of Victorian periodicals and literary culture have highlighted his staunchly Tory political views in some of the twenty-seven essays he published in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine in the 1840s. In particular, Jones has been portrayed as exemplifying a paternalist vision of a hierarchical, organic society under the leadership of the landed aristocracy, a reaction to radical political, social and economic change inspired by a romantic medievalism that also informed his approach to archaeology, as we shall see.2 By contrast, much more attention has been given to Jones’s interest in education, above all as Her Majesty’s Inspector for Church Schools in Wales (1848–64).3 This appointment helped to sustain his archaeological endeavours by providing him with the financial security he had previously lacked, thanks to an annual salary of £600, as well as ample opportunities to combine his official duties with visits to monuments across the length and breadth of the Principality.4 Assessments of the significance of Jones as an archaeologist have focused on his role in the formation of the CAA and its journal, Archaeologia Cambrensis, his close involvement with these until his death in 1870, and aspects of his interpretation of archaeological evidence in Wales.5 An important theme to emerge from this work is Jones’s commitment to a critical, ‘scientific’ approach based on fieldwork combined, where appropriate, with analysis of written sources, which contrasted sharply with the fanciful bardic interpretations of the Welsh past espoused by his initial collaborator, the Revd John Williams Ab Ithel (1811–62), a divergence of views that helped to precipitate the latter’s break with the CAA at the end of 1853.6 As far as Welsh archaeology is concerned, then, Jones has been located in a narrative of scientific progress. 3 The origins of his interest in the archaeology of Wales have, on the other hand, received little consideration, perhaps because it has been too readily assumed that Jones was Welsh and therefore that no explanation was needed. If so, the assumption requires qualification, as Jones was not only born and raised in London and educated at Cambridge but could claim Welsh descent only through his paternal grandfather, Thomas Jones of Wrexham (d 1799).7 Nevertheless, this partial Welsh pedigree may account for an early interest in Wales and its antiquities evident in his first publication, issued shortly after becoming a fellow of Magdalene College upon his graduation in 1828: a finely produced elephant folio volume, Illustrations of the Natural Scenery of the Snowdonian Mountains (1829). The ambitious scale of the enterprise was matched (and financed) by the securing of 137 subscribers. These almost certainly included two paternal uncles. Most striking, though, was the appearance of members of the royal family and aristocracy, headed by Princess Mary, Duchess of Gloucester (1776–1857), to whom the volume was also dedicated (a connection possibly facilitated by her residence at Gloucester House in Jones’s birthplace of Piccadilly).8 Replete with engravings of fifteen drawings he had made, the work was markedly sympathetic to Wales and the Welsh language, as shown by its reliance on the grammatical and lexicographical works of William Owen [Pughe] (1759–1835), whose controversial Welsh orthography it reproduced.9 Jones explained that his aim was ‘[t]o supply a partial deficiency in the topographical illustration of Britain’, and that he had not focused on antiquities as these had already been adequately treated by previous writers, notably Thomas Pennant (1726–98).10 Accordingly, as its title suggests, the work deals mainly with the landscape, and only one of the drawings includes an ancient monument (fig 1). Yet the book contains an annotated table of antiquities in Caernarfonshire as well as descriptions of individual monuments in the main text which show that Jones had already developed antiquarian knowledge and interests in two important aspects.11 First, he drew extensively on earlier antiquarians of Wales, notably Pennant and Sir Richard Colt Hoare (1758–1838) but also, among others, Henry Rowlands (1655– 1723) and Browne Willis (1682–1760).12 Second, his comments on churches, evidently based on personal observation, display a familiarity with recently adopted terms for medieval architecture styles in England, especially Decorated Gothic and Perpendicular Gothic as influentially defined by Thomas Rickman in 1817.13 There is also early evidence of Jones’s dislike of modern restoration that took insufficient 4 notice of a church’s original architectural features.14 On the other hand, this scholarly and critical approach coexisted with a romantic, and at times Gothic, sensibility, most apparent in the evocation of episodes in the history of Conwy castle, where the visitor ‘will often remember, with a pleasing regret, the solemn silence of its halls and the intricate gloom of its passages’.15 While he continued to be captivated by the romantic allure of archaeological sites,16 his accounts of these from the 1840s onwards demonstrate a capacity for systematic survey and description that is largely absent from his volume in 1829. This difference in approach (and genre) resulted from an increasing engagement with developments in archaeology gained while living in Paris. JONES IN PARIS: THE APPEAL OF THE MIDDLE AGES AND THE PRESERVATION OF HISTORIC MONUMENTS After his marriage c 1834 had required him to resign his Cambridge fellowship, Jones took up residence in the French capital, and remained there until he moved to Manchester in March 1842.17 Deprived of the income from his fellowship and probably with little other financial means, he may have been attracted to Paris owing to the lower cost of living than in England, in common with others among the city’s numerous English inhabitants at that time.18 Jones supported himself as a writer and journalist, contributing to Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine and other periodicals as well as working alongside William Makepeace Thackeray (1811–63) on the newspaper Galignani’s Messenger and updating Galignani’s New Paris Guide.19 Many of Jones’s writings in Paris comment on political, social and educational issues of the day, including the initiatives under the July Monarchy (1830–48) to record and preserve the historic monuments of France driven especially by François Guizot (1787–1874), historian, liberal reformer and dominant figure in the Orleanist regime.20 The most important of these for the present discussion was the Comité historique des arts et monuments (Historical Committee on Arts and Monuments), under the authority of the Minister of Public Instruction. Originating in 1834 as part of what became known as the Comité des travaux historiques, but only established as a separate committee in 1837, its remit was ‘to make known all the monuments of art in France’;21 accordingly, its main task was the organisation of detailed surveys, based on questionnaires and other information supplied by its members and 5 correspondents, and to identify monuments needing protection or conservation. Its role as a body dedicated to recording and giving expert advice distinguished the Comité from the Service des monuments historiques, headed by the Inspector General of Historical Monuments, first Ludovic Vitet (1830–4), then Prosper Mérimée (1834– 60), and supported from 1837 by a Commission des monuments historiques responsible to the Minister of the Interior. This had limited funds available for conservation, whose allocation was governed from 1840 onwards by a system whereby certain monuments were officially classified as Monuments historiques.22 Jones was presumably predisposed to view these developments favourably by the antiquarian interests already evident in his work on the topography of north-west Wales, interests he continued to pursue after his arrival in Paris. He visited the private museum of Alexandre Lenoir (1761–1839) in 1835, and attended a lecture course on ‘Christian archaeology’ given by Adolphe Napoléon Didron (1806–67) and Albert Lenoir (1801–91), speaking respectively on architecture and on art and sculpture, in the Bibliothèque du Roi from late May to July 1838.23 For Jones, attendance at these lectures both reflected and further stimulated a deepening engagement with archaeology in France that led to his writing a lengthy article that appeared in The Foreign and Quarterly Review in October 1838. This reviewed the lectures together with publications reflecting recent French approaches to (mainly medieval) art and architecture, namely two volumes by Alexandre du Sommerard and the annual reports for 1838 of the Comité historique des arts et monuments and Commission des monuments historiques.24 (Baron Taylor and Charles Nodier’s Voyages pittoresques et romantiques dans l’ancienne France, a multi-volume work published from 1820 onwards, is also listed at the head of the article, but Jones only referred to this briefly by way of contrast with the more recent developments that chiefly engaged his attention.)25 The publication of the article may in turn explain why Jones was nominated as one of the Comité’s eight corresponding members from England in January 1839, although it was only during the subsequent fortnight that he submitted a copy to the Comité, which evidently approved of its noticing ‘the archaeological movement which is starting from France and giving an impetus to England’.26 Further recognition of his antiquarian qualifications came with his election in February 1840 as a member of the Société de l’Histoire de France, founded by Guizot in 1833, and as a Fellow of the Society of Antiquaries of London in June 1841.27 6 The article of 1838 not only reveals that Jones had developed his knowledge of antiquarian scholarship, in both Britain and France, since the publication of his volume on north Wales nine years earlier but also offers valuable insights into why he had become attracted to medieval Paris and the heritage measures of the July Monarchy. One stimulus for its composition may have been an article by Thomas Wright (1810–77) in the same periodical two years earlier. This focused sympathetically on Guizot’s initiatives to publish French historical sources, including the history of the arts, and noticed the establishment of the Comité’s immediate predecessor in January 1835.28 However, rather than merely reprising Wright, Jones offered his own perspective. Evidently drawing on a wider range of sources than the French works it reviewed, his article provided a perceptive and wide-ranging comparison of approaches in Britain and on the Continent, especially in France, to ‘the study of the arts, the architecture, and the manners of the middle ages’ from the seventeenth century onwards.29 This celebrates the achievements of British antiquarians from William Camden onwards, while also acknowledging the contribution of their French counterparts, notably the Benedictines; condemns the neglect of historic monuments in France that reached its nadir during the French Revolution; and welcomes the changes instigated by the July Monarchy to survey and protect ‘national antiquities’ and the associated emergence of ‘the Modern Archaeological School of France’.30 At first sight, Jones’s praise of the July Monarchy seems out of keeping with his condemnation of it in Blackwood’s Magazine, where he was amongst its harshest critics, declaring that, in moral and political terms, ‘we have nothing, absolutely nothing, to wish to imitate from the French’.31 Moreover, it might be thought that his belief that the aristocracy were the natural leaders of society would have engendered little sympathy for measures that smacked of the centralizing ambitions of the French state. However, his attitude to the French aristocracy was decidedly ambivalent. There is nothing to suggest support for the legitimist nobility who remained loyal to the Bourbon dynasty after the abdication of Charles X in 1830, some of whom responded to their political marginalisation through engaging in antiquarian pursuits in the provinces.32 Much as he hoped for an eventual restoration of aristocratic rule, Jones recognised that the prospects for this were poor. In part, this was due to the severe impact of the French Revolution. But he held that blame also rested with the ‘old aristocracy [for] having passed a suicidal sentence on themselves since 1830, by 7 tacitly withdrawing from the political scene’.33 In addition, the aristocracy of western Europe had a poor track record when it came to ‘national monuments’. Thus, while in France the Catholic Church and religious orders ‘were two powerfully conservative causes that kept together the traditional taste and monuments of the middle ages’, the aristocracy had been slow to appreciate a duty ‘closely concerning their own honour’ to protect ‘national antiquities’ that were ‘the works of their ancestors’; it was only ‘the revolutionary violence of popular tumults’ that at last instilled in them ‘a true perception of [. . .] the sublime and beautiful of the middle ages’.34 For Jones, then, conservation and conservatism went hand in hand. As he put it in 1845, ‘efforts [. . .] for the preservation and study of national antiquities [. . .] would help the genius of true conservatism, and would foster respect for all that is venerable in our National History’.35 He interpreted the heritage measures of Louis-Philippe’s government in a similar light when he maintained that these sought ‘to obliterate the traces of the great revolution’ – something of an exaggeration given the regime’s desire to reconcile the revolutionary and monarchical traditions.36 His assessment of the political situation may help to explain why Jones appears to have been fairly detached towards the efforts, led by the notable Norman antiquary and legitimist Arcisse de Caumont (1801–73), to develop provincial antiquarian societies independent, and sometimes sharply critical, of the state’s initiatives.37 There is no evidence that he visited Caumont or attended his congresses, unlike a substantial number of British antiquarians at this time, including other corresponding members of the Comité such as Rickman, Whewell and Pugin. Nor, when he came to establish the CAA, did Jones follow the example of Charles Roach Smith, who reportedly urged Thomas Wright that the body, later called the Société française d’archéologie, founded by Caumont in 1834, could serve as a model for the British Archaeological Association.38 True, Jones acknowledged that provincial antiquarians had contributed to the formation of ‘the New Archaeological School of France’, strongly imbued with a taste for the Middle Ages. Thus he praised Caumont as an important pioneer of the French antiquarian and archaeological movement, and celebrated the formation of antiquarian societies in French départements.39 Nevertheless, Jones was even more admiring of Guizot,40 and had no doubt that provincial developments had only been brought to fruition by the central government’s imposition of a coherent and well-funded programme of studying, classifying, and preserving historic monuments.41 8 Jones did not explain the July Monarchy’s heritage measures in purely political terms. He also pointed to ‘a secret influence’, promoted by the king, in favour of ‘the works of art and monuments of the middle ages’, as well as the upsurge in romantic medievalism given early expression by Chateaubriand and stimulated above all by Victor Hugo’s evocation of medieval Paris in his novel Notre-Dame de Paris (1831).42 The work of Taylor and Nodier was also praised for ‘popularizing the taste for medi-aeval [sic] antiquity’.43 There can be little doubt that Jones, too, shared this passion for the Middle Ages and found Paris an ideal place in which to indulge it. He noted that ‘the rage [. . .] for the Moyen Age’ had seized both ‘the common people’ and ‘the upper classes of society’. Among the former, young men had adopted the clothing, long hair and beards associated with the fifteenth century, whereas the latter amassed antiquarian collections and also refurbished ‘their feudal chateaux’ and erected ‘Gothic villas’. In addition, ‘even shops and cafés are built in the pointed style’, an especially fine example being the Café Musard on the rue Vivienne (and thus close to Galignani’s premises).44 If he was struck by how the medieval influenced contemporary culture, what impressed Jones most about Paris was the unrivalled opportunity it offered to experience the Middle Ages themselves. There are few English visitors of the gay metropolis of France who give themselves the trouble, or who like to expose themselves to the not always pleasant task of piercing through the older parts of the town in search of the remains of the middle ages, with which it still abounds. The heart and core of Paris remains in many respects the same as it was centuries ago; the width of the streets, the height of the houses, the wretched pavements, the dirt and the stench, are in many a quarter that we could point out much about the same as they were in the time of Francis I [king of France 1515–47].45 Likewise a few years later Jones wrote that enough remained in the Rue Saint Denis ‘to show it is a child of the middle ages; and like so many other children of the same kind, it contributes to make its mother Paris, as compared with the modern-built capitals of Europe, a town of former days’.46 However, like other contemporaries with romantic sensibilities, Jones also thought that there were limits to the exotic allure of 9 medieval Paris, for all its aesthetic appeal. Thus, while enthusing that ‘[t]here is more of colour, of light and shade, of picturesque, fantastic outline, in a hundred yards of the Rue St Denis, than in all the line from Piccadilly to Whitechapel’, he took pains to reassure his readers that ‘we never dined there! Oh non! il ne faut pas faire ça!’47 Likewise, by February 1840 he resided with his family at 28 rue Bréda, in a recently developed neighbourhood south of Montmartre situated at a safe distance from the city’s malodorous medieval core.48 While inspired by romantic medievalism, in engaging with the French Middle Ages Jones did more than take pleasure in their aesthetic delights. He also studied medieval churches and other buildings and campaigned for their preservation. Here he shared the objectives of the bodies set up under the July Monarchy to record and protect France’s artistic and archaeological heritage, including the Comité of which he became a foreign corresponding member in 1839. As the first official recognition of his antiquarian credentials, the status of corresponding member of the Comité probably mattered more to Jones than to the other seven corresponding members for England nominated in 1839, all of whom had well established reputations in relevant fields, with two having the added distinction of being MPs.49 These were all older than Jones apart from the Gothic Revival architect and designer A. W. N. Pugin (1812–52), who was the only English corresponding member known to have attended a meeting of the Comité in Paris (during a visit to inspect the restoration of the Sainte Chapelle in May 1844), when colour plates he exhibited from his forthcoming Glossary of Ecclesiastical Ornament and Costume, together with samples of neo- medieval vestments he had designed, elicited an enthusiastic response.50 Thomas Rickman (1776–1841), William Whewell (1794–1866) and Henry Gally Knight (1786–1846) had published extensively on medieval architecture and had previous connections with France, while the illustration, collection and preservation of antiquities numbered among the accomplishments respectively of John Britton (1771– 1857), John Heywood Hawkins (1802–77) and John Gage Rokewood (1786–1842), the last of whom was also Director of the Society of Antiquaries of London.51 In thanking Didron for his appointment as an English corresponding member, Jones undertook to publicise the work of the Comité among his compatriots and also to send reports on analogies and differences between the antiquities of England and those of France.52 He thereby signalled his readiness to conform with the Comité’s expectation that foreign corresponding members would contribute to the study of 10 French art both by commenting on stylistic developments revealed by illuminated manuscripts in libraries across Europe, and by providing information on French paintings, statues, seals and other artefacts held abroad.53 As we shall see, Jones was quick to fulfil the first undertaking, and after his relocation to Manchester in 1842 went some way towards fulfilling the second by offering observations on English medieval architecture in Calais, reporting on Roman and medieval antiquities in north Wales, and requesting information on Celtic place-names in Savoy and Switzerland.54 However, unlike other English corresponding members, based in England, he did not initially report on artefacts and sites in Britain.55 Rather, his immediate focus remained the historic monuments of France. In particular, he took advantage of his continuing residence in Paris to examine the city’s medieval churches and other buildings, and by the summer of 1839 he had begun a concerted attempt to survey some of these.56 JONES AND MEDIEVAL FRENCH CHURCHES On 27 February 1840 Jones sent the Minister of Public Instruction a lengthy report in French on his survey of Paris churches, which was considered by the Comité the following month (fig 2).57 This provides the fullest testimony to Jones’s archaeological endeavours in Paris, and was intended as part of the preparation for a work, to be published in London, on the medieval monuments and architecture of Paris and its environs [. . .] I have accordingly visited all the monuments of the capital that are more or less connected with the Middle Ages, and for quite a large number I have made drawings, drawn up plans and taken notes.58 The drawings and plans have not survived, and the projected publication never appeared, although after his return to Britain Jones offered a chronological assessment, based on his own observation, of the medieval architecture of central Paris in the Archaeological Journal.59 This also briefly alludes to the interest of ‘the medieval edifices of a circle of ten miles radius’ of the city.60 However, the only evidence of his survey of these is the report submitted to the Minister of Public Instruction, which consists of descriptions of forty-nine churches in the departments 11 of the Seine (S) and Seine-et-Oise (SO). (Thirty-six of the churches described lay in the former, in contrast to thirteen in the latter, whose survey Jones had still to complete.)61 However, coverage was far from comprehensive, and stands in contrast to the detailed coverage demanded by the Comité’s questionnaire in its thirty questions on medieval churches in each commune.62 This was mainly because the work formed the basis of a projected publication on medieval monuments, and therefore Jones deliberately focused his attention on churches dating from the Middle Ages and Renaissance.63 Accordingly, fourteen churches dating from the seventeenth century onwards were usually only listed with a brief indication of date. Much the same was true of the well known medieval churches of Saint-Denis (S), Montmartre (S), the chapel of Ste Geneviève at Nanterre (S), Montmorency (SO) and Poissy (SO), which were named ‘only for the record’ with barely any further comment. Moreover, the descriptions of the remaining thirty churches vary considerably in length.64 Likewise, though he claims to have recorded the dimensions of the churches surveyed,65 Jones gave no measurements in the report, which merely indicates, with respect to twenty-seven of the churches, that many were ‘small’, some of ‘medium size’, and only one, Rueil (SO), ‘large’. Despite its partial coverage and summary nature, the report illuminates two facets of Jones’s engagement with the medieval buildings of Paris that would later characterise his approach to churches and other monuments in Wales: recording and campaigning.66 In addition to fieldwork, he had drawn on published antiquarian accounts, namely ‘the great and scholarly work of the abbé Lebœuf, and the great topographical collection of the Bibliothèque du Roy’, as well as the plans and illustrations of the abbey church of Montmartre published by Albert Lenoir in the first instalments of his Statistique monumentale de Paris (1840–67).67 Jones also spoke to the priests of the communes he had visited, stating that they had been unfailingly polite and welcoming, with several standing out for their ‘zeal for archaeology and enlightened knowledge’ (an assessment entirely in line with the Comité’s expectations of the clergy).68 Accordingly he would tell his compatriots ‘what an admirable passport the simple title of foreign archaeologist may be in the suburbs of Paris, and likewise, as I have already often had the fortune to find, for many departments of France’ – a revealing indication both of his self-identification as an archaeologist and of his travels beyond Paris.69 Jones added that he had distributed numerous copies of 12 the Comité’s forms among the clergy, and suggested that its printed Instructions could be very useful if disseminated more widely in the suburbs.70 Together with other evidence, the report sheds valuable light on how Jones understood the monuments he studied, especially with respect to the classification and evaluation of architectural styles. As we have seen, in keeping with the medievalist taste of the time, Jones privileged churches and other buildings of the Middle Ages and Renaissance. However, he discriminated between different periods within that era, albeit, in contrast to his publications on such monuments, without recourse to current stylistic terminology (apart from one reference to a modern restoration, mentioned below). This is particularly evident in the distinctions drawn in the report between different phases of fabric. In part, this was simply a matter of descriptive identification. For example, at Colombes (S) he attributed most of the church to the late sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the surviving apse and possibly the tower to the tenth century.71 In addition, though, such dating evidence was also often linked to assessments of a building’s significance informed by two distinct, though sometimes overlapping, criteria: archaeological significance and aesthetic beauty. In his introductory comments Jones stressed that churches of the tenth to twelfth centuries possessed especial archaeological value.72 This could be seen as consistent with the growing appreciation of Romanesque architecture by both British and French writers over the previous two decades. However, Jones never describes these churches as beautiful, highlighting instead their primitive and unsophisticated nature, a view that seems to echo earlier condemnations of the Romanesque as ‘uncouth, rude, and unformed’.73 The same is true of his later reference to ‘the heavy Romanesque (Romane) period’.74 By contrast, beauty was a quality he reserved for Gothic of the late twelfth to fifteenth centuries and the Renaissance architecture that followed, which Jones later referred to as ‘the closing style of the middle ages’.75 The distinction is clear in his description of Deuil (SO). On the one hand, ‘the nave with its aisles is probably of the ninth or tenth century, of a remarkable simplicity and rudeness of workmanship’. However, ‘the choir in the apse is of the more beautiful epoch of the thirteenth century’, with a series of columns behind the stalls ‘of an exquisite workmanship [. . .]’.76 Likewise the mainly early thirteenth-century churches of Arcueil (S) and Vitry (S) were both deemed ‘very beautiful’; in the former, the capitals in the nave were ‘of a very unusual boldness’ and ‘the small columns of the galleries and side aisles [. . .] of a remarkable elegance and purity’.77 13 From a later period, Aubervilliers (S) was a ‘beautiful church’ of the fifteenth century, remarkable for its bold arcades and delicate capitals, its tower, bearing the date 1541, ‘a very beautiful example of the Renaissance’.78 This last comment was consistent with Jones’s praise of French Renaissance buildings as being more magnificent than their sixteenth-century English counterparts in his review article of 1838.79 This formed part of a comparison of French and English architectural styles in which Jones also insisted, in contrast to William Whewell and Robert Willis (1800–75), on the superior merits of French Flamboyant architecture over most examples of English Perpendicular.80 On the other hand, he agreed with ‘all French and British authorities of weight’ that the Decorated style which came to an end in England shortly after 1400 marked ‘the perfection of Pointed architecture’, citing the examples of Rouen, Amiens and Lincoln.81 By 1846, though, Jones explained his choice of fourteenth-century architecture as a model for a new church he was designing on the grounds that this constituted ‘the truly national style’ of England, without any parallel in France, thereby implicitly rejecting the privileging by Didron – in common with the architects Lassus and Viollet-le-Duc – of thirteenth- century French Gothic as a universally applicable style.82 In his treatment of architectural styles, then, Jones showed himself to be both widely read and independent-minded, informed by comparisons between England and France and adopting an eclectic terminology that combined elements from Rickman with frequent use of ‘pointed’ as a general descriptor for Gothic.83 The report submitted to the Minister of Public Instruction in 1840 also drew attention to the condition of the churches described and, where necessary, sought to secure their preservation. Montreuil (S) and Stains (S) were well maintained, the western façade of the former a recent construction ‘in the pointed style (style ogival), following the drawings of M. Molinos, architect of the department’; likewise recent repairs at Poissy (SO) had been ‘conducted with great intelligence’.84 By contrast, though, Arcueil (S) and Fontenay-sous-Bois (S) ‘are in a state of degradation that is very painful to see’. The original plan of Arcueil had been spoiled by earlier alterations, soil surrounding the church was causing dampness, and children were using stones from it ‘for their ballistic exercises’; indeed, on his last visit Jones had seen stones fall into the nave. He stressed that the priest had long appealed in vain to the communal authorities to undertake repairs; moreover, although the architect of the department had now drawn up a plan for these, the priest feared that ‘many of the 14 most precious details would disappear if these repairs were not made under the control of some very enlightened archaeologists and architects’. Accordingly Jones concluded that the building merited full attention from ‘the conservators of public monuments’.85 At Fontenay-sous-Bois the situation was even graver, as the department’s architect had responded to the church’s ‘deplorable state’ by ordering its almost total demolition. However, Jones held that the church could be repaired, mainly by reducing its height and providing a new roofing without wooden beams.86 In early March 1840, shortly after submitting his report to the Minister of Public Instruction, Jones warned the Comité of several other monuments under threat, including the church of Saint-Julien-le-Pauvre and the conventual college of the Bernardins, on the left bank of the Seine, a fourteenth-century edifice which was in danger of being converted into a barracks for the municipal guard.87 The following year Jones alerted readers of the Gentleman’s Magazine to the latter building’s importance ‘as a chef d’oeuvre of Gothic Architecture’, illustrated with a drawing he had made of the college (fig 3), and elaborated on the threats it still faced, while noting that these had been temporarily checked by the freeze on new building projects owing to ‘the absurd project of the fortifications of the city of Paris’ (a controversial scheme inaugurated in April 1841).88 These campaigning efforts had mixed results. The condition of the Bernardine college still caused concern in 1845.89 On the other hand, Jones’s appeal to the Minister of Public Instruction had some effect, as his report was sent to the Comité, which in turn forwarded his information to the Minister of the Interior, expressing the hope that the church of Fontenay-sous-Bois would be preserved from mutilation and that that of Arceuil would receive the urgent repairs it required. By 27 May 1840 a copy made of the report had been made for the Minister of the Interior, who agreed that the Inspector General of Historic Monuments would visit those churches whose archaeological merit and state of degradation made them eligible for financial support from the budget allocated to ancient monuments.90 Although such support appears not to have been immediately forthcoming, the church of Arcueil was classed as a Historic Monument in 1850. Moreover, the plans mentioned by Jones for its restoration were carried out in the early 1840s by their author, the departmental architect Auguste Molinos, while Fontenay-sous-Bois was restored by Molinos’s successor, Claude Naissant, a few years later.91 15 THE COMITÉ HISTORIQUE DES ARTS ET MONUMENTS AS AN EXAMPLE FOR GREAT BRITAIN AND IRELAND Although Thomas Wright had previously touched on Guizot’s initiatives to treat art and architecture as sources for the French past, including surveys conducted by Mérimée as Inspector General of Historic Monuments,92 Jones’s article in 1838 on the restoration and revival of France’s medieval architectural heritage appears to have been the first substantial account of the Comité and related institutions in an English- language publication. Both contributions to The Foreign and Quarterly Review were symptomatic of a wider interest in the institutions established under the July Monarchy to record and preserve historic monuments among the antiquarian-minded in Great Britain and Ireland, and more widely in Europe, in the following years. Indeed, the Comité won increasing renown in Europe, thanks in part to its appointment of foreign corresponding members.93 Accordingly it came to be regarded as a model for the study and preservation of historic monuments whose influence extended well beyond France and informed efforts to develop national archaeology elsewhere. Its energetic secretary Didron was quick to make this influence a matter of patriotic pride. In May 1840 he claimed that the Comité had inspired proposals to establish analogous bodies in Austria and Great Britain and to extend state protection from ancient to Byzantine monuments in Greece: Thus the archaeological movement in which France has taken the glorious initiative is destined to propagate itself in Europe; and the monuments of Christian architecture, unappreciated and ruined and destroyed down to the present, will be placed under the protection of the governments themselves.94 However, while such declarations reflect the Comité’s aspirations, the evidence adduced in their support was slender, and their fulfilment depended on factors beyond the Comité’s control. True, many states were introducing measures to preserve historic monuments from the early nineteenth century onwards.95 However, the process was prolonged, and the extent to which it was indebted to the Comité and other institutions established under the July Monarchy varied. With respect to the last 16 example cited by Didron, the royal decree of 1837 prohibiting the destruction of Byzantine monuments and subsequent measures to the same end, while consistent with the Comité’s concern to safeguard medieval Christian art and architecture, resulted above all from the legitimizing priorities of the regime of Otto, first king of Greece (1833–62).96 On the other hand, the steps taken to preserve heritage by German states, especially Prussia from the early 1840s, were modelled on the French government’s initiatives (though not primarily the Comité).97 The Comité’s influence beyond France was greatest on individuals with antiquarian and archaeological interests. Harry Longueville Jones is an early and important example. His sympathetic account of French heritage measures in 1838 maintained that Great Britain had much to learn from its continental neighbour: not only were the recommendations of the Commission on Historic Monuments ‘applicable to other countries besides France’, but he urged ‘young English architects [. . .] to profit by the example of their brethren of France, who are now turning the traditions of the middle ages to profit, in the embellishment of the capital’.98 He subsequently kept to his commitment to publicise the Comité’s work in the press. In April 1839 he sent the Gentleman’s Magazine a translation of the questionnaire prepared by the Comité for its correspondents, prefaced by a letter suggesting ‘that a similar set of questions might be modified and adapted to the antiquities of the British islands, and circulated on the authority of any competent body – and none more fit than the Antiquarian Society’. He further recommended they be sent to all the parish clergy of England as well as ‘the local antiquarian and scientific or literary societies of Great Britain’.99 Jones also planned, together with Thomas Wright, to publish an English translation of the Comité’s Instructions, complete with woodcuts taken from the accompanying plates.100 Although this appears not to have materialised, it is likely that further reports of the Comité’s activities in the Gentleman’s Magazine were indebted, at least in part, to Jones.101 As the reference to Wright indicates, Jones was not alone in turning to the measures of the July Monarchy for inspiration in promoting antiquarian endeavours in Great Britain and Ireland. In November 1838 the Royal Institute of British Architects (RIBA) sought information about the institutions responsible for historic monuments from the French Minister of the Interior.102 By April 1839 the Liberal MP Joseph Hume had requested two copies of the Comité’s reports, circulars, questionnaire and Instructions, and also declared his intention of pressing for the establishment of a 17 comparable institution in England.103 Both John Britton and Jones made similar undertakings the following year.104 In 1841 Hume secured the appointment, under his chairmanship, of a parliamentary Select Committee on ‘National Monuments and Works of Art’ which received detailed evidence from Britton, who strongly advocated establishing a body on the lines of the Comité in order to help ensure the preservation of cathedrals and other historic public buildings in England.105 However, these and other attempts to establish a British equivalent of the Comité and other French heritage bodies proved unsuccessful. Thus when Thomas Wyse, MP for Waterford, pressed in June 1845 for the appointment of a royal commission to consider how best to establish ‘a Museum of National Antiquities in conjunction with a Commission for the conservation of National Monuments’, his motion was defeated after the Chancellor of the Exchequer objected that such matters were the responsibility of private owners rather than the state and that they could result in considerable expenditure.106 Wyse had already demonstrated a concern for the study and preservation of antiquities in 1843, when he urged the government to follow the example of the French Comité by arranging for ‘a well-digested classification’ of monuments in order ‘to complete a general and complete outline, if no more could be attained, of the antiquities of Ireland’. This formed part of his evidence to a Select Committee established as the result of a campaign to persuade the British government to continue publication of the historical memoirs produced by the Topographical Department of the Irish Ordnance Survey, following the suspension of the scheme in 1840 after the appearance of only one volume, on the parish of Templemore, Co Londonderry (1837).107 Wyse’s references to the Comité were noticed favourably by several commentators who stressed the value of the memoir scheme.108 However, neither that testimony nor the Select Committee’s report recommending continuation of the memoirs overcame the opposition of Peel, who announced their termination in July 1844.109 By contrast, the Young Irelander Thomas Davis (1814–45) invoked French example to urge all sections of Irish society to ensure the protection of the island’s historic monuments without assistance from the government.110 In Britain, too, the Comité proved most influential in the unofficial sphere, as antiquarian and related societies identified with its objectives. RIBA claimed to have similar aims to the heritage agencies established by the July Monarchy, though not the Comité 18 specifically, as early as November 1838.111 By 1844, thanks to Albert Way, both the Society of Antiquaries and the British Archaeological Association (BAA) had formed links with the Comité, and Thomas Wright went so far as to maintain that the BAA was analogous to the French body.112 Likewise Didron numbered among the forty ‘Honorary Foreign Members’ of the Archaeological Institute, being explicitly described as ‘Secretary to the “Comite [sic] des Arts et Monuments”’.113 On the other hand, from 1845 the Ecclesiological Society gave a cooler welcome to the Comité’s restoration projects.114 There were parallels elsewhere in Britain and Ireland, then, for Jones’s efforts to ensure that French example informed the initiatives he took with respect to Welsh antiquities in the mid-1840s, as co-founder of Archaeologia Cambrensis and the CAA. A full assessment of the impact of those efforts on the CAA lies beyond the scope of the present discussion.115 However, they merit attention as evidence of the continuing influence on Jones of connections and approaches established over the previous decade. That he kept an admiring eye on developments in France is shown by his subscribing to Didron’s Annales archéologiques, founded in 1844, and the warm recommendation, almost certainly from his pen as editor, of both that and other French archaeological publications in Archaeologia Cambrensis.116 Indeed, he claimed to Didron that Archaeologia Cambrensis was modelled on the Annales Archéologiques, explaining, in phraseology tailored to his French recipient, that it was intended ‘above all for the Bretons of England and France’, and requesting help in finding correspondents from Brittany.117 He thus turned to a figure at the heart of the ‘archaeological movement’ in France in order to try and ensure that his archaeological project in Wales had Breton connections. Jones again acknowledged his debt to France and emphasised the importance of the French government’s heritage measures in the opening article of the first issue of Archaeologia Cambrensis in January 1846.118 This also announced that the journal would ‘follow the example of the French Government Commissions, and [. . .] print sets of instructions, questionaries [sic], or formularies, by which the antiquary will be greatly aided in his operation, from knowing what, and how, to observe’.119 Such a set of questions duly appeared in the next number of Archaeologia Cambrensis in April 1846, where they were presented as the first of several. They specifically covered ‘Celtic remains’ (thereby echoing the Comité’s monumens Gaulois, and likewise corresponding to what we would call prehistoric monuments), and described as 19 having been ‘derived partly from the “Instructions” and the “Questionnaire” issued by the Comité Historique in France’.120 Jones was thus swift to adapt for his archaeological project in Wales what he had envisaged as applicable to British antiquarianism generally in 1839. However, although he continued to mirror the Comité’s categories of monuments by publishing ‘Antiquarian questions and instructions’ on Roman remains later in the year, these marked the end of the series.121 As well as adapting forms issued by the Comité, Jones sought its members’ support for the CAA. His efforts had met with success by December 1846, when Sir Stephen Glynne, first president of the CAA, was reportedly ‘very glad to hear of the accession of such distinguished foreign archaeologists, more especially M. Didron whose reputation as an Ecclesiologist is well known to him’.122 Didron himself quoted in the Annales archéologiques from the letter Jones had sent from Manchester soliciting his support. This celebrated the success of Archaeologia Cambrensis and announced Jones’s intention to establish the CAA. Jones added that the association would hold its first congress the following year, to which he hoped foreign members would come, especially from Brittany. Didron stated that he had ‘eagerly accepted’ the invitation to act as the association’s secretary for France, and urged all French archaeologists who wished to be involved in the Welsh initiative to inform him immediately so he could pass their names on to Jones.123 The first list of members of the CAA in 1847 duly included both Didron and Mérimée, designated respectively Sécrétaire du Comité historique des arts et monuments and Inspecteur général des Monuments Historiques, together with another member of the Comité, Le Vicomte Héricart de Thury (1776–1854).124 Although no Breton or French representatives attended the CAA’s first congress, a complete set of the Comité’s publications, together with engravings from Lenoir’s Statistique monumentale de Paris, were exhibited to the delegates at Aberystwyth in September 1847.125 Moreover, Jones remained in contact with Didron until at least 1854, and continued to extol the virtues of French archaeology and the support it received from the French government a decade later.126 Nevertheless, it is difficult to avoid the impression that the connections he had sought to foster with France had only a limited, and diminishing, impact on his archaeological project in Wales. While Didron and other French archaeologists acknowledged that Archaeologia Cambrensis and the CAA had a place in the wider 20 European archaeological movement they wished to encourage, it is unlikely that they envisaged anything more than conventional contact through correspondence and reciprocal reports of publications and other activities.127 Moreover, it seems that even regular correspondence had ceased by the 1860s, as Didron continued to be named as the CAA’s corresponding secretary for France until 1870 (and was briefly resurrected in 1873), despite having died on 13 November 1867.128 This suggests in turn that, for the CAA, Didron’s most important contribution was the prestige his name conferred on the organisation – an instance of the mainly symbolic significance of such correspondents.129 CONCLUSION The significance of Harry Longueville Jones as an antiquarian cannot be understood simply by casting him in the role of a founding father of Welsh archaeology. Rather, an adjustment of focus allows us to situate him also in the context of a significant phase of Anglo-French dialogue in the late 1830s and 1840s which influenced British antiquarianism as well as efforts to secure legislation for the preservation of historic monuments. What differentiated Jones from other British antiquarians of the period was his extended residence in Paris, and the advantage he took of the opportunities this gave him to extend his antiquarian interests by engaging closely both with French historic monuments and with the official measures taken on their behalf. This experience deeply informed his approach to archaeology in a way that set him apart from his fellow English corresponding members of the Comité historique des arts et monuments, none of whom owed such a direct debt to France or used their position as corresponding members to intervene on behalf of French historic monuments in a way comparable to Jones in his report to the Minister of Public Instruction. Moreover, Jones’s study of medieval churches in Paris and its environs, based on extensive fieldwork, had no close parallels among contemporaneous British antiquarian scholars. Although anglophone readers could find information on a number of the city’s medieval buildings in illustrated topographical volumes, tourist guidebooks and publications on medieval architecture, the coverage of these works was much less comprehensive and systematic than that attempted by Jones.130 True, that project remained incomplete and Jones never published the book he planned to write on the medieval monuments of Paris. Nevertheless, while the full potential of his work was 21 never realised, some of its fruits appeared as periodical articles which, by highlighting the richness of Paris’s medieval heritage, made a distinctive contribution to British antiquarian writing of the day. In addition, Jones stands out among British antiquarians in his commitment to the July Monarchy’s measures to preserve historic monuments in France. He was the first to provide a detailed account of those measures in an English-language publication and among the earliest to urge their applicability to Britain. Moreover, while the government rejected calls to follow the lead of its French counterpart with respect to heritage, Jones ensured that the French institutions informed the initiatives he took to promote Welsh archaeology through the establishment of Archaeologia Cambrensis and the CAA. Although his efforts in this regard were almost certainly less successful than he had hoped, they merit attention as a notable instance of French influence on antiquarian endeavour in Britain. More specifically, they represent a significant attempt to adapt the model of an officially supported movement for the recording, study and protection of historic monuments in a major European state to the very different context of a small stateless nation. By contrast, and unlike some other British antiquarians, Jones seems to have attached much less significance to the provincial antiquarian organisations associated with Arcisse de Caumont. This was probably because, though by no means hostile to these, Jones considered the French government’s measures to be more effective – a view presumably reinforced by his close association with the latter as a corresponding member of the Comité who had engaged with the historic monuments of France and the official steps taken to preserve them largely from a Parisian perspective facilitated by his residence in the French capital. Although the focus of his archaeological work shifted from France to Wales after his departure from Paris in 1842, Jones continued to admire French example. Indeed, almost thirty years later he signalled his enduring identification with the institutions established under the July Monarchy on the title page of a collection of his writings, published in the year of his death, which names the author as ‘H. Longueville Jones, M.A., Membre correspondant du Comité historique des arts et monuments’.131 22 ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I am very grateful to Nancy Edwards for commenting on earlier drafts of the article, to Adrian James for searching for material relating to Jones in the SAL archives, to Rodolphe Leroy for sending me copies of parts of his thesis, and to the journal’s two referees for their helpful suggestions. 1 For short biographical accounts, see Anon 1871; Williams 2008. 2 Aston 1934, 3–4, 143, 144; Roberts 1977, 158, 160, 162; Milne 1984, 385–6; Morris 2001, 686, 698 n. 26. 3 Williams 1990–1; 2000. 4 Salary: NLS, MS 4084, fol 153, Jones to Blackwood’s, 27 Dec 1848. 5 Lloyd n.d., 11–15; Thomas 1978; Moore 2001, 8–10, 14–15; Edwards 2013, 22–4; Edwards and Gould 2013, 146–56. 6 Lloyd n.d., 13–14; Thomas 1978, 2–6; Edwards and Gould 2013, 146–9. 7 Lloyd n.d., 11–12. 8 Jones 1829, [iii], [vii]–viii; cf. Walford 1878, 286. 9 Compare Jones 1829, title page, 34–5, respectively with Owen 1803, I, s.v. Dôl, and Owen 1793, [ii]. 10 Jones 1829, [v]. Pennant’s importance for Welsh antiquaries is again emphasised in Jones 1846c, 12. 11 Table: Jones 1829, 43–8. 12 Jones 1829, esp 34, 48. 13 Jones 1829, 13–14, 46; Aldrich 2009, 62, 71–4. 14 Jones 1829, 30. 15 Jones 1829, 8. 16 Jones 1846a, 445–6; 1847, 154. 17 NLS MS 4061, fol 227v, Jones to A Blackwood, 12 Sep 1842. On Cambridge fellowships at this period, see Searby 1997, 95–102, 106–10. 23 18 Cf Ray 1955, 174. The large English population in Paris (and other French towns) was noticed in Jones 1840, 522. See also Mansel 2001, ch 5. Thomas 1978, 2, asserts that Jones’s mother was buried in Paris, but no evidence is given and the suggestion that she was ‘of French Longueville extraction’ is incorrect. 19 Ray (ed) 1945–6), I, 358; II, 474–5. On Galignani’s, see Barber 1961. 20 Detailed discussion in Charmes 1886, I, cxvii–cxlvi, clxxxv–ccxvi. See also Poulot 1988; Bercé 2000, 24–7; Gerson 2003, 44–8. 21 BA, 1843, 1, 5. 22 Léon 1951, 124–30; Fermigier 1997, 1607–12 23 Jones 1838, 11 n.*; Galignani’s Messenger, 25 May 1838, 4; Gasparin 1838, 718b; Didron 1839, 245. 24 Jones 1838; Sommerard 1834, 1838. The account strongly suggests that Jones was present at the lectures, which he states were not yet published: Jones 1838, 27, 32. For the earliest substantial French summary of Didron’s lectures, see Didron 1839. 25 Jones 1838, 1, 17–18. 26 AN, F/17/13268 (23 Jan, 6 Feb 1839). 27 Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire de France, 1840, 17; Gent’s Mag, 1841, new ser, 16, 78. On the former society, see Leniaud 1998, 141–2. The only material in SAL’s archives relating to Jones is a letter, dated 31 May 1862, in which he invites Fellows of SAL to attend the annual meeting of the CAA: Adrian James, pers comm, 18 Nov 2013. 28 Wright 1836, esp 386–9. 29 The summary of English developments in Sommerard 1838, vi, n. 2, is much briefer than Jones’s coverage of these and lacks the latter’s comparisons with the Continent. 30 Quotations: Jones 1838, 1, 2, 13. See also Jones 1838, 18, which observes that the work of Taylor and Nodier lacked a ‘severe technical character’, in contrast to the requirements of ‘the New Archaeological School of France’. Mérimée took a similar view: Fermigier 1997, 1602. 31 Jones 1841b, 100–1; Milne 1984, 386. 32 Goujon 2012, 309–10. 33 Jones 1841b, 101. Cf Jones 1838, 7. 34 Jones 1838, 2–4, 7. Cf Jones 1846c, 8. 24 35 NLS, MS 4075, fols 131r–v, Jones to R Blackwood, 26 May 1845. 36 Jones 1838, 14; Goujon 2012, 307–9. 37 Bercé 1997; Chaline 1995, 197–207. 38 Lewis 2004; Hill 2007, 64; Wetherall 1991, 100. 39 Jones 1838, 13, 15, 27. For later praise of Caumont, almost certainly by Jones, see Anon 1848a, 357–8; Anon 1857, 237 (‘that indefatigable antiquary, the parent of all Archaeological Associations, Foreign or British’). Caumont was later elected an Honorary Member of the CAA: Anon 1863, 3. 40 Jones 1840, 522; Jones 1842, 4. 41 Jones 1838, 14, 18–28, 33–4; Jones 1840, 532–4; Jones 1841b, 102. 42 Jones 1838, 14–15. 43 Jones 1838, 18. 44 Jones 1838, 16. The café was fitted with stained glass and modelled on sixteenth- century architecture: L’Artiste, 1839, new ser, 1, 216. Edmund Sharpe observed similar medievalist fashions in Paris in 1835: Bullen 2004, 148–9. 45 Jones 1839b, 356. 46 Jones 1843, 526. 47 Jones 1843, 526. 48 Bulletin de la Société de l’Histoire de France, 1840, 17. For the neighbourhood containing rue Bréda (now rue Henri-Monnier and rue Clauzel), see Marlès 1837–8, III, 535; Cazaux 2012, 41–2. 49 The Comité’s minutes list them by occupation, AN, F/17/13268 (23 Jan 1839): ‘M. Gally Knight, membre du Parliament; M. J. Heywood-Hawkins, membre du Parliament; M. Whewel [sic], professeur de géologie, à Cambridge; M. Welby Pugin, professeur d’archéologie chrétienne, au Collège de Ste-Marie, à Oscott; M. Rickmann [sic] architecte à Liverpool; M. John Gage, à Lincoln’s Inn; M. Britton, antiquaire à Londres; M. Longueville Jones ancien professeur du Collège de la Madeleine, à Cambridge.’ 50 BA, 1844–5, 3, 186–7; cf Hill 2007, 286, 303. 51 Lewis 2004, 273–4; Wroth 2013; Crook 2008; Kendrick 1941, 162; Cooper 2009. The contributions of Britton, Hawkins, Rickman and Whewell are also noticed in Sommerard 1838, vi, n. 2. 52 AN, F/17/13268 (12 June 1839). 25 53 Gasparin 1838, 716b; BA, 1843, 1, 17. 54 BA, 1844–5, 3, 113–16; 1847–8, 4, 130–1, 377–9. 55 BA, 1844–5, 3, 35–6, 81, 164, 173, 193–5. 56 Jones, ‘Report’, p 17. 57 Jones, ‘Report’; BA, 1843, 1, 175–6 (25 Mar 1840). 58 Jones, ‘Report’; quotation at p 1. 59 Jones 1844b and 1844c. 60 Jones 1844b, 238. 61 Jones, ‘Report’, p 12. Although Jones described only a castle at Carrières sous Bois près Saint-Germain (SO), the total remains 49, as he included both the parish church and the chapel of Sainte Geneviève at Nanterre (S). 62 For examples of completed questionnaires, see AN, F17/2810/1. 63 Jones, ‘Report’, p 3. 64 From 1 line for Maisons-sur-Seine (SO) to 30 lines for Fontenay-sous-Bois (S): Jones, ‘Report’, pp 5–6, 10. 65 Jones, ‘Report’, p 2. 66 For the first fruits of the latter, see Jones 1844a and 1844d; Archaeol J, 1844, 1, 380–1, 403–4. 67 Jones, ‘Report’, pp 2, 7, referring to Lebeuf 1754–8. For Lenoir, see BA, 1843, 1, 243 (27 May 1840). 68 Cf Gasparin 1838, 716b; BA, 1843, 1, 16. 69 For his knowledge, evidently based on observation, of medieval buildings in Normandy, Calais, Clermont and elsewhere in France, see Jones 1838, 8–9, n. †; 1844b, 237–9; 1846b, 487; BA, 1844–5, 3, 113–14 (27 Mar 1844). 70 Jones, ‘Report’, p 12; cf Anon 1839. 71 Jones, ‘Report’, p 5. 72 Jones, ‘Report’, p 3. 73 Bullen 2004; quotation at 142. 74 Jones 1844b, 238. 75 Jones 1844c, 344. 76 Jones, ‘Report’, p 9. 77 Jones, ‘Report’, pp 4, 9. 26 78 Jones, ‘Report’, p 4, and cf p 8 for the church tower at Villejuif (S) as ‘a beautiful monument of the Renaissance’. 79 Jones 1838, 32. 80 Jones 1838, 31–2. 81 Jones 1838, 31. 82 Didron 1846a, 129 (partly trans in Germann 1972, 143); cf Boucher-Rivalain 1998. 83 For further stylistic comparisons, see BA, 1844–5, 3, 113–14; Jones 1844b and 1844c. 84 Jones, ‘Report’, pp 7, 8, 10. 85 Jones, ‘Report’, pp 12–13. It may be significant, though, that Jones did not explicitly criticise the architect (Auguste Molinos), whom he elsewhere praised for his work at Montreuil. 86 Jones, ‘Report’, p 6. 87 BA, 1843, 1, 139–41. Both buildings are described in Jones 1844b, 241; 1844c, 339. 88 Jones 1841a, 592–7 (quotation at 597). Fortifications: Broglie 2011, 235, 355. 89 Didron 1845a, 316–18; 1845b, 364–6. 90 BA, 1843, 1, 175–6, 230. 91 Anon 2007 and 2015. 92 Wright 1836, 388–9. 93 Leroy 2001, 172–3. 94 BA, 1843, 1, 98. 95 Brown 1905; Swenson 2013, 46–58. 96 Brown 1905, 216; Hamilakis 2007, 81–3, 108–9, 112–15. 97 Swenson 2013, 54–6. 98 Jones 1838, 20, 33; also 27. 99 AN, F/17/13268 (17 Apr 1839); Jones 1839a (quotation at 74). 100 AN, F/17/13268 (17 Apr 1839); cf Gent’s Mag, 1841, new ser, 15, 82. Wright was nominated a corresponding member of the Comité on 26 Feb 1840: BA, 1, 1843, 120. 101 ‘French antiquarian intelligence’: Gent’s Mag, 1840, new ser, 13, 417–18, 523–5, 637–8; 14, 189–91, 298–9; 1841, new ser, 15, 82–4. 102 Swenson 2013, 57. 103 AN, F/17/13268 (10 Apr 1839). 104 BA, 1843, 1, 114–15 (12 Feb 1840). 27 105 PP 1841, 99–100 (evidence of J Britton, 19 May 1841). See also Swenson 2013, 57–8. 106 PP 1845, cc 1329–34. 107 PP 1844, 45 (evidence of T Wyse, 25 July 1843). For the attempts to save the memoir scheme and its eventual demise, see Doherty 2004, 29–32, 200–10. 108 Anon 1844, 12, 25. 109 Doherty 2004, 32 and n. 97. 110 Davis 1883, 43–53. 111 Swenson 2013, 57. 112 BA, 1844–5, 3, 35–7, 148, 170; Way 1844, 6; Archaeol J, 1844, 1, 162. See also Lewis 2004, 276. 113 Anon 1845, 26. 114 Miele 2000, 214–16. 115 I intend to examine the foundation of the CAA and Jones’s role in its development elsewhere. 116 Annales Archéologiques, 1845, 2, 17; Anon 1847b, 95; 1847c, 281; 1848b, 82; 1855; 1857. 117 Didron 1846a, 129–30. 118 Jones 1846c. 119 Jones, 1846c, 15. 120 Anon 1846a; quotation at 135. 121 Anon 1846b; 1846c. It is unclear why the series was discontinued. 122 NLW, Papers of the CAA, L1, fols 69–70, John Williams [to Jones], 19 Dec 1846. 123 Didron 1846b, 344–5. 124 Archaeol Cambrensis, 1847, 2, 89, 90; BA, 1843, 1, 6. 125 Archaeol Cambrensis, 1847, 2, 359. 126 Jones 1854; 1864, 257. See also n. 131 below. 127 For the role and significance of correspondents of learned societies in this period, see Chaline 1995, 198–203. 128 Anon 1869, 3; Anon 1873, 3. 129 Cf Chaline 1995, 203. 130 Cf Anon 1837, esp 136–7, 144–5, 303–8; Duffy 2013, 23–4, 26, 68–9, 78, 105; Petit 1841, II, 84, 256–7. 28 131 Jones 1870. ABBREVIATIONS AND BIBLIOGRAPHY Abbreviations AN Archives Nationales, Paris BA Bulletin archéologique publié par le Comité historique des arts et monuments Jones, ‘Report’ AN, F/17/3313 NLS National Library of Scotland, Edinburgh NLW National Library of Wales, Aberystwyth PP Parliamentary Papers Manuscript sources AN, F17/2810/1 AN, F/17/3313, H L Jones to the Minister of Public Instruction, Paris, 27 Feb 1840 AN, F/17/13268, minutes of the Comité historique des arts et monuments NLS, MSS 4061, 4075, 4084 NLW, Papers of the CAA, L1 Published sources Aldrich, M 2009. ‘Thomas Rickman’s handbook of Gothic architecture and the taxonomic classification of the past’, in M Aldrich and R J Wallis (eds), Antiquaries & Archaists: the past in the present, the present in the past, 62–74, 153–5, Spire Books Ltd, Reading Anon 1837. Galignani’s New Paris Guide, A. and W. Galignani, Paris Anon 1839. Instructions du Comité historique des arts et monuments, Imprimerie royale [Paris] 29 Anon 1844. A Collection of Documents Expressive of Public Opinion on the Utility and Importance of the Ordnance Memoir of Ireland, M. H. Gill, Dublin Anon 1845. ‘Subscribing and corresponding members of the Archaeological Institute of Great Britain and Ireland’, Archaeol J, 2, 1–27 Anon 1846a. ‘Antiquarian questions and instructions. No. I. – Celtic remains’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 1, no. 2, 135–8 Anon 1846b. ‘Antiquarian questions and instructions. No. II. – Roman Remains. – Part I.’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 1, no. 3, 353–6 Anon 1846c. ‘Antiquarian questions and instructions. No. II. – Roman Remains. – Part II.’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 1, no. 4, 416–18. Anon 1847a. ‘Cambrian Archaeological Association’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 2, no. 6, 178–81 Anon 1847b. ‘Miscellaneous antiquarian notices’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 2, no. 5, 94– 5 Anon 1847c. ‘Miscellaneous notices’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 2, no. 7, 280–3 Anon 1848a. ‘The Cambrian Archaeological Association’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 3, no. 12, 344–68 Anon 1848b. ‘Miscellaneous notices’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 3, no. 9, 79–82 Anon 1855. Review, Abbé Cochet, La Normandie Souterraine, Archaeol Cambrensis, 3rd ser, 1, no. 4, 288–91 Anon 1857. Review, M. de Caumont, Abécédaire ou rudiments d’archéologie, Archaeol Cambrensis, 3rd ser, 3, no. 10, 237–8 Anon 1863. ‘Cambrian Archaeological Association. 1863. List of members’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 3rd ser, 9, no. 36, separate pagination, 1–11 Anon 1869. ‘Cambrian Archaeological Association. 1870. List of members’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 3rd ser, 15, no. 60, separate pagination, 1–12 Anon 1871. ‘Obituary: Harry Longueville Jones’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 4th ser, 2, no. 5, 94–6 Anon 1873. ‘Cambrian Archaeological Association. 1873. List of members’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 4th ser, 4, no. 16, separate pagination, 1–12 Anon 2007. ‘Inventaire général du patrimoine culturel: église paroissiale Saint-Denys. Ile-de-France ; Val-de-Marne; Arcueil’ 30 <http://www.culture.gouv.fr/public/mistral/merimee_fr?ACTION=CHERCHER&FIE LD_98=REF&VALUE_98=IA94000406> (13 Nov 2015) Anon 2015. ‘Inventaire général du patrimoine culturel: église paroissiale Saint- Germain-d’Auxerre. Ile-de-France ; Val-de-Marne; Fontenay-sous-Bois’, <http://www.culture.gouv.fr/public/mistral/merimee_fr?ACTION=CHERCHER&FIE LD_98=REF&VALUE_98=IA00050016> (13 Nov 2015) Aston, T S 1934. Economic and Social Investigations in Manchester, 1833–1933: a centenary history of the Manchester Statistical Society, P S King and Son, London Barber, G 1961. ‘Galignani’s and the publication of English books in France from 1800 to 1852’, The Library, 5, no. 16, 267–86 Bercé, F 1997. ‘Arcisse de Caumont et les sociétés savantes’, in P Nora (ed), Les Lieux de mémoire, ‘Quarto’ edn, I, 1545–73, Gallimard, Paris Bercé, F 2000. Des monuments historiques au patrimoine du XVIIIe siècle à nos jours ou ‘Les égarements du coeur et de l’esprit’, Flammarion, Paris Boucher-Rivalain, O 1998. ‘Attitudes to Gothic in French architectural writings of the 1840s’, Architectural History, 41, 145–52 Broglie, G de 2011. La monarchie de Juillet 1830–1848, Fayard, Paris Brown, G B 1905. The Care of Ancient Monuments: an account of legislative and other measures, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge Bullen, J B 2004. ‘The Romanesque revival in Britain, 1800–1840: William Gunn, William Whewell, and Edmund Sharpe’, Architectural History, 47, 139–58 Cazaux, T 2012. Paris romantique. La capitale des enfants du siècle, Parigramme, Paris Chaline, J-P 1995. Sociabilité et érudition: les sociétés savantes en France XIXe–XXe siècles, Mémoires de la Section d’histoire moderne et contemporaine, 10, Éditions du C.T.H.S, Paris Charmes, X 1886. Le Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques (histoire et documents), 2 vols, Imprimerie Nationale, Paris Cooper, T 2009. ‘Rokewode, John Gage (1786–1842)’ (rev. J M Blatchly), in H G C Matthew and B Harrison (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography: online edition <http://0-www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/24017> (20 June 2015) 31 Crook, J M 2008. ‘Britton, John (1771–1857)’, in H G C Matthew and B Harrison (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography: online edition <http://0- www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/3458> (20 June 2015) Davis, T 1883. Literary and Historical Essays (ed C P Meehan), James Duffy & Co., Dublin Didron, [A N] 1839. ‘Programme d’un cours d’archéologie chrétienne’, L’Artiste, 2nd ser, 1, 241–5, 257–60, 272–4 Didron, [A N] 1845a. ‘Mélanges et nouvelles’, Annales Archéologiques, 2, 309–28 [Didron, A N] 1845b. ‘Mélanges et nouvelles’, Annales Archéologiques, 2, 363–74 Didron, [A N] 1846a. ‘Mouvement archéologique’, Annales Archéologiques, 4, 109– 32 Didron, [A N] 1846b. ‘Mouvement archéologique’, Annales Archéologiques, 5, 329– 45 Doherty, G M 2004. The Irish Ordnance Survey: history, culture and memory, Four Courts, Dublin Duffy, S 2013. The Discovery of Paris: watercolours by early nineteenth-century British artists, Wallace Collection, London Edwards, N 2013. A Corpus of Early Medieval Inscribed Stones and Stone Sculpture in Wales. Volume III: North Wales, University of Wales Press, Cardiff Edwards, N and Gould, J 2013. ‘From antiquarians to archaeologists in nineteenth- century Wales: the question of prehistory’, in N Evans and H Pryce (eds), Writing a Small Nation’s Past: Wales in comparative perspective, 1850–1950, 143–63, Ashgate, Farnham Fermigier, A 1997. ‘Mérimée et l’inspection des monuments historiques’, in P Nora (ed), Les Lieux de mémoire, ‘Quarto’ edn, I, 1599–1614, Gallimard, Paris Gasparin, [A-E] 1838. ‘Rapport à M. de Salvandy, Ministre de l’instruction publique, sur les travaux du Comité historique des arts et monumens pendant la session de 1838’, Journal Général de l’Instruction Publique, 7, no. 110 (8 Aug), 716–20 Gerson, S 2003. Pride of Place: local memories and political culture in nineteenth- century France, Cornell University Press, Ithaca, NY and London Goujon, B 2012. Monarchies postrévolutionnaires 1814–1848, Seuil, Paris Hamilakis, Y 2007. The Nation and its Ruins: antiquity, archaeology, and national imagination in Greece, Oxford University Press, Oxford 32 Hill, R 2007. God’s Architect: Pugin and the building of romantic Britain, Allen Lane, London Jones, H L 1829. Illustrations of the Natural Scenery of the Snowdonian Mountains: accompanied by a description, topographical and historical, of the county of Caernarvon, Charles Tilt, London; Thomas Stevenson, Cambridge Jones, H L 1838. ‘Restoration of the fine arts of the middle ages in France’, Foreign Quarterly Rev, 22, no. 43 (1838), 1–34 Jones, H L 1839a. ‘The antiquities of France’, Gent’s Mag, new ser, 10, 74–7 Jones, H L 1839b. Review, M. H. Géraud, Paris sous Philippe le Bel, Foreign Quarterly Rev, 22, no. 44, 356–8 [Jones, H L] 1840. ‘France’, Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, 48, no. 300, 522–34 Jones, H L 1841a. ‘The conventual college of the Bernardins at Paris’, Gent’s Mag, new ser, 15, 592–7 [Jones, H L] 1841b. ‘England, France, Germany, and Russia’, Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, 49, no. 303, 97–108 [Jones, H L] 1842. ‘Report on general education, superior, secondary, and primary, in France’, J Statistical Soc London, 5, no. 1, 1–31 [Jones, H L] 1843. ‘Chronicles of Paris. The rue St Denis’, Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, 54, no. 336, 525–37 Jones, H L 1844a. ‘On the medieval antiquities of Anglesey’, Archaeol J, 1, 40–5 Jones, H L 1844b. ‘On the medieval ecclesiastical architecture of Paris. [First period]’, Archaeol J, 1, 237–42 Jones, H L 1844c. ‘On the medieval ecclesiastical architecture of Paris. [Second period]’, Archaeol J, 1, 336–46 Jones, H L 1844d. ‘Remarks on some of the churches of Anglesey’, Archaeol J, 1 (1844), 118–30 J[ones], H L 1846a. ‘Cymmer abbey, Merionethshire’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 1, no. 4, 445–60 Jones, H L 1846b. ‘A new sentimental journey’, Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, 60, no. 372, 481–8 Jones, H L 1846c. ‘On the study and preservation of national antiquities’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 1, no. 1, 3–16 33 J[ones], H L 1847. ‘Arvona mediaeva. No. II. Beddgelert priory’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 2, no. 6, 153–66 Jones, H L 1854, ‘Villes et chateaux du XIIIe siècle au Pays de Galles’, Annales Archéologiques, 14, 361–9 J[ones], H L 1864. ‘On the destruction and preservation of ancient buildings. No. II’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 3rd ser, 10, no. 39, 256–9 Jones, H L 1870. Essays and Papers on Literary and Historical Subjects, J. Russell Smith, London Kendrick, T D 1941. ‘A late Saxon hanging-bowl’, Antiq J, 21, 161–2 Lebeuf, J 1754–8. Histoire de la ville et de tout le diocèse de Paris, 15 vols, Prault pere, Paris Leniaud, J-M 1998. ‘L’état, les sociétés savants et les associations de défense du patrimoine: l’exception française’, in J Le Goff (ed), Patrimoines et passions identitaires, Éditions du Patrimoine, Paris, 137–54 Léon, P 1951. La vie des monuments français: destruction, restauration, A. et J. Picard, Paris Leroy, R 2001. ‘Le Comité des travaux historiques et scientifiques (1834–1914): entre animation et contrôle du mouvement scientifique en France’, unpublished D. E. A. thesis, École nationale des chartes, Paris Lewis, E 2004. ‘Les rapports avec les antiquaires anglais’, in V Juhel (ed), Arcisse de Caumont (1801–1873): érudit normand et fondateur de l’archéologie française. Actes du colloque international organisé à Caen du 14 au 16 juin 2001, 273–83, Mémoires de la Société des antiquaires de Normandie, 40, Caen Lloyd, J L n.d. ‘Introduction’, in V E Nash-Williams (ed), A Hundred Years of Welsh Archaeology: centenary volume, 1846–1946, 11–23, Cambrian Archaeological Association, Gloucester Mansel, P 2001. Paris between Empires 1814–1852, John Murray, London Marlès, J de 1837–8. Paris ancien et moderne ou Histoire de France divisée en douze périodes appliquées aux douze arrondissements de Paris, et justifiée par les monuments de cette ville célèbre, 4 vols, Parent-Desbarres, Paris Miele, C 2000. ‘Victorian internationalism and the Victorian view of monument care on the continent’, in J de Maeyer and L Verpoest (eds), Gothic Revival: religion, 34 architecture and style in western Europe 1815–1914, 211–22, Universitaire Pers Leuven, Leuven Milne, J M 1984. ‘The politics of Blackwood’s, 1817–1846: a study of the political, economic and social articles in Blackwood’s Edinburgh Magazine, and of selected contributors’, unpublished PhD thesis, University of Newcastle-upon-Tyne Moore, D 2001. ‘Cambrian meetings 1847–1997: a society’s contribution to the changing archaeological scene’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 147, 3–55 Morris, P 2001. ‘Bleak House and the struggle for the state domain’, English Literary History, 68, 679–98 Owen, W 1793. Geiriadur Cynmraeg a Saesoneg: a Welsh and English dictionary, E and T Williams, London Owen, W 1803. A Dictionary of the Welsh Language, 2 vols, E Williams, London Petit, J L 1841. Remarks on Church Architecture, 2 vols, James Burns, London Poulot, D 1988. ‘The birth of heritage: “le moment Guizot”’, Oxford Art J, 11, no. 2, 40–56 PP 1841. Report from Select Committee on National Monuments and Works of Art; with the minutes of evidence, and appendix, 1841 Session 1 (416) VI.437 PP 1844. Report of the Commissioners Appointed to Inquire into the Facts Relating to the Ordnance Memoir of Ireland; together with the minutes of evidence, appendix, and index, 1844 (527) XXX.259 PP 1845. Commons Sitting of Friday, June 27, 1845. House of Commons Hansard, 3rd ser, vol 81 Ray, G N (ed) 1945–6, The Letters and Private Papers of William Makepeace Thackeray, 4 vols, Oxford University Press, Oxford Ray, G N 1955. Thackeray: The Uses of Adversity (1811–1846), Oxford University Press, London Roberts, D 1977. ‘The social conscience of Tory periodicals’, Victorian Periodicals Newsletter, 10, no. 3, 154–69 Searby, P 1997. A History of the University of Cambridge. Volume III: 1750–1870, Cambridge, Cambridge University Press Sommerard, A du 1834. Notices sur l’Hotel de Cluny et sur le Palais des Thermes, Ducollet, Paris Sommerard, A du 1838. Les arts au moyen âge, I–IV, Techener, Paris 35 Swenson, A 2013. The Rise of Heritage: preserving the past in France, Germany and England, 1789–1914, Cambridge University Press, Cambridge Thomas, B B 1978. ‘The Cambrians and the nineteenth-century crisis in Welsh studies, 1847–1870’, Archaeol Cambrensis, 127, 1–15 Walford, E 1878. Old and New London, IV, Cassell, Petter and Galpin, London Way, A 1844. ‘Introduction’, Archaeol J, 1, 1–6 Wetherall, D M 1991. ‘The British Archaeological Association: its foundation and split’, unpublished MA thesis, Durham University Williams, H G 1990–1. ‘Longueville Jones and Welsh education: the neglected case of a Victorian H.M.I.’, Welsh History Rev, 15, 416–42 Williams, H G 2000. ‘Nation state versus national identity: state and inspectorate in mid-Victorian Wales’, History of Education Quarterly, 40, no. 2, 145–68 Williams, H G 2008. ‘Jones, Harry Longueville (1806–1870)’, in H G C Matthew and B Harrison (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography: online edition, <http://0- www.oxforddnb.com /view/article/15009> (1 Dec 2015) Wright, T 1836. ‘M. Guizot’s Commission Historique and the English Record Commission’, Foreign and Quarterly Rev, 17, no. 33, 362–90 Wroth, W W 2013. ‘Knight, Henry Gally (1786–1846)’ (rev J Harding), in H G C Matthew and B Harrison (eds), Oxford Dictionary of National Biography: online edition <http://0-www.oxforddnb.com/view/article/15721> (20 June 2015) CAPTIONS Fig 1. ‘Llyn a Castel Dolbadarn’. Engraving from Jones’s sketch of Lake Padarn and the thirteenth-century castle of Dolbadarn, Caerns, in Jones 1829, facing p 22. Fig 2. Jones’s letter to the Minister of Public Instruction, Paris, 27 Feb 1840, p 1, in AN F17/3313. Fig 3. ‘College of the Bernardins, Paris’, drawn by Jones and engraved by George Hollis, in Jones 1841a, between pp 592 and 593. 
work_yckwtf5k25a3db7uylgcioctqy	----	the historical significance of these two concepts, meaning that clarifying them in context allows one not only to better understand ideas about Sinn developed in a given era, but also to shed light on the specificity of the epoch itself. The choice of the topics mirrors this task by focusing on transitional figures (e.g., Petrarch between Augustine and humanism), on shifting moments in literary genres (e.g., allegory in Tasso’s Gerusalemme liberata and in Marino’s Adone), and also on more nuanced definitions of a given epoch (in this last case I would single out Florian Mehltretter’s essay on the hidden sources of the conception of symbol in the French Enlightenment). It is a path of research that German scholarship has been con- stantly following in the last decades, reflecting often upon the notion of “epistemolog- ical rupture” conceived by Gaston Bachelard and then adopted by Michel Foucault, whose name not by chance appears in Franz Penzenstaldler’s essay on the new kind of interest in classical mythology that arose in the French Renaissance, and in Klaus Hempfer’s contribution on allegorical readings of the epic in sixteenth-century Italy. Referring already in the title to the consequences for the theory of interpretation of the allegoresis, Hempfer’s study highlights another important goal of the book—namely, to establish a dialogue between the historical research on the specific problem of alle- gory/allegoresis and the theoretical reflection upon the transhistorical categories that scholars use in their research. This is probably the most valuable feature of the book, the one that makes it possible to read it as a collection of separate essays each dedicated to an independent topic not even limited to the Renaissance (the last study, for example, is about Elio Vittorini’s Conversazione in Sicilia), and also as a collective attempt to define through a historical approach categories that have challenged theorists from the Middle Ages up to modern and postmodern philosophy. The topics (and also the length) of the essays being extremely diverse, the fact that the volume lacks a comprehensive bibliography is certainly justifiable. However, an index would have been helpful in unifying the themes of the collection, and, more importantly, a bibliography at the end of each article would have made the search for references easier. That lacuna notwithstanding, this is a valuable book whose essays both individually contribute to their fields and collectively provide a model for historically and theoretically grounded research. Corrado Confalonieri, Harvard University doi:10.1017/rqx.2018.95 Women, Rhetoric, and Drama in Early Modern Italy. Alexandra Coller. London: Routledge, 2017. xii + 282 pp. $149.95. Within the context of early modern European theater Italy presents an exceptional number of female patrons, dramatists, and performers—including professional actresses REVIEWS 371 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:14, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core (documented in the peninsula at least from 1564). Although evidence of women’s theatrical protagonism is often scant, in part because of the challenge posed to female decorum by the notorious license of the public stage, no fewer than nine full-length, original plays by seven female dramatists (Barbara Torelli, Maddalena Campiglia, Isabella Andreini, Leonora Bernardi, Valeria Miani, Isabetta Coreglia, and Margherita Costa) in the secular genres of comedy, tragedy, and pastoral drama composed in ca. 1586–1650 have recently come to light, as well as a political play (Moderata Fonte’s Feste [1581]) and convent drama. Of the secular plays, five are now available in critical editions with English translations through the series The Other Voice; three more are forthcoming. To this field Alexandra Coller’s richly documented monograph presents a timely and stimulating addition, as the first book-length study to explore the nine secular plays (excluding Fonte’s) composed by women until 1650, set against the male-dominated canon. It builds on the pioneering work by Virginia Cox (The Prodigious Muse [2011], chapter 2, “Drama”), and studies of individual plays and genres, offering very detailed textual readings of these dramatic texts in dialogue with an impressive range of other sources, dramatic and literary, inside and outside the canon, by authors of both sexes. Coller traces largely chronologically—across comedy, tragedy, and pasto- ral tragicomedy—the development of female-centered thematics (e.g., marriage and family relations, feminine virtù or agency on- or offstage, female friendship and love) in terms of rhetorical and dramatic practice. The female-authored works are mostly explored against a “shared network of letterati and male sponsorship” (235), and a well-documented tradition of philogynist writings linked to the ongoing querelle des femmes. Nonetheless, evidence is suggested (especially for Isabetta Coreglia) for the development also of a literary kinship among female dramatists through bi-gendered connections across courts, cities, and academies (especially in Lucca, Siena, and the Veneto region), as well as in “gynocentric milieu[s]” (50) (for Margherita Costa in Vittoria della Rovere’s Florence). Coller’s premise is that Italian erudite drama differs notably from its ancient models due to its “intriguingly sympathetic portrayals of and sustained investment in women as vibrant and dynamic characters of the early modern stage” (1). This partly reflects the strong influence on dramatists of Boccaccio’s Decameron, but also real changes in con- temporary views on women by early dramatists from Ruzante to Ludovico Dolce. The study does not aim, however, to explore how far comedies and tragedies mirror society, nor does it critically draw out issues of gender representation or voicing and perfor- mance in relation to the author’s sex. Instead, Coller offers nuanced analysis of how in practice the plays discussed variously “both disturb[ ] and trump[ ] the kind of ideals prescribed to women” (23) and obliquely allude to real contexts and norms, often through apparently quite minor, but significant, variations to generic conventions. The study falls into two connected parts: “Women as Protagonists in Male-Authored Drama: Comedy and Tragedy” and “Women as Authors / Women as Protagonists: RENAISSANCE QUARTERLY372 VOLUME LXXII, NO. 1 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:14, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core Pastoral Tragicomedy.” The two chapters in part 1 (both derived from earlier published essays) set up discussion across a wide range of plays of female-oriented themes, includ- ing education and the trope of cross-dressing in comedy (chapter 1), and friendship and female virtue in tragedy (chapter 2). A coda to each chapter features original analysis of the single female-authored example of each genre: respectively, Costa’s Li buffoni (1641, significantly later than most of the male-authored comedies discussed), and Valeria Miani’s tragedy Celinda (1611). The second part demonstrates how pastoral tragicom- edy, the genre most conducive to women (six plays), allowed creative challenges to gen- der stereotypes and generic conventions, as in Miani’s lively nymph-satyr scene (chapter 5). Perhaps surprisingly, the last two chapters examine the “somewhat derivative” (198) pastoral plays by the little-known Coreglia (Dori [1634]; Erindo [1650]). However, here as before, Coller makes a strong case for closely reading these female-authored plays to appreciate their strategic rhetorical positioning against both male- and female-authored classics as part of a broader collaborative and competitive production, explicitly attuned to issues of gender and genre. This book is recommended for scholars and graduate students of early modern the- ater, literature, and culture for its sensitive discussions of new textual-dramatic voices and gender-related issues, all meticulously referenced and with indications for future scholarship. We now await Coller’s welcome companion editions of Miani’s Amorosa Speranza and Coreglia’s Dori. Lisa Sampson, University College London doi:10.1017/rqx.2018.96 Le Prince de Fra Paolo. Romain Borgna, ed. Libre pensée et littérature clandestine 67. Paris: Honoré Champion, 2017. 220 pp. €45. Fake news has always existed and probably always will. The problem of distinguishing correct from false depends on one’s ability to trace back the origin of the information and its moment of transformation into fake. Yet if we look at the matter from the faker’s viewpoint, the problem is how not to leave traces that will allow an identification of the fake, or, worse, fingerprints that will lead the readers to him. The Opinione di fra Paolo Sarpi is a fake text whose first part was probably written in Venice in 1615, followed by a second one assembled in the 1640s from different sources. It later circulated in man- uscript form until its first printed edition in 1681, to be reedited in numerous ones until the end of the eighteenth century. The work’s history contains all the ingredients of a mystery novel worth the attention of authors like Umberto Eco, and, moreover, it invites us to think of the reason for our long-standing attraction to fake texts, while we soon lose interest in the true-to-history ones. REVIEWS 373 Downloaded from https://www.cambridge.org/core. 06 Apr 2021 at 01:07:14, subject to the Cambridge Core terms of use. https://www.cambridge.org/core 
work_ygp4224vijcorbzpmn3fgukusm	----	PII: 0315-0860(76)90027-6 110 Abstracts HM3 ABSTRACTS The purpose of the abstracts is to give sufficient informa- tion about the subject matter of each publication to enable readers to decide whether to read it. No review or evaluation is intended. The indexing terms (in boldface capitals) refer only to aspects of the publication of interest to historians of mathematics, including some topics in general history of science and historiography, but not other topics unless there is a fair- ly close link with mathematics or its history. We hope to pub- lish cumulative subject indices. Readers are invited to send reprints, autoabstracts, correc- tions,additions,and notices of publications that have been overlooked. Be sure to include complete bibliographic informa- tion. We need volunteers willing to cover one or more journals for this department. NR 46 #3255 means that the item is numbered 3255 in volume 46 of Mathematical Reviews. RZ 1973 #3A14 means that the item is numbered 3Al4 in the third number of the 1973 volume of the Referativny Zhurnal. Z 50 4 means volume 50, page 4 of the Zentralblatt. The symbol * in the margin indicates a publication that deserves more discussion than it may ordinarily get in the Reviews Department (either because it is an article rather than a book or because it is such a large book that a single review cannot deal with it fully). Readers are invited to comment by letter for our Correspondence Department and by submitting manuscripts of reviews or articles. HUGHES, Rarnabas 1975 A course in history of mathematics for mathematics teachers HM 2, 333-335 HISTORY IN MATHEMATICS. EDUCATION. TEACHER EDUCATION. FLEGG, Graham 1975 History of mathematics course (AM289) at the Open University, Great Britain HM 2, 332-333 HISTORY IN MATHEMATICS EDUCATION. SCRIBA, Christoph J 1975 The place and function of a "historical introduction" in the curriculum for mathematics students HM 2, 327-331 HISTORY IN MATHEMATICS EDUCATION. WALLIS, Peter J 1975 The BOOK SUBSCRIPTION LISTS project -- its relevance for historians of mathematics HM 2, 321-325. HN 3 Abstracts 111 MAY, Kenneth 0 1975 Historiographic vices II. Priority chasing HM 2, 315-317 HISTORIOGRAPHY. Continued from HM 2, 185-187. PEDOE, Dan 1975 Ausz disem wirdt vi1 dings gemacht: a Diirer construction for TANGENT CIRCLES HM 2, 312-314 CONSTRUCTIONS. A DijRER. . . . . MUURSEPP, Peeter 1975 D'Alembert's letter to Euler of 3 March 1766 HM 2, 309-311 J le R d'ALEMBERT. L EULER. CORRESPONDENCE. MIKOLAS, M 1975 Some historical aspects of the development of mathematical ANALYSIS in HUNGARY HM 2, 304-408 L FEZER. M. RIESZ. A HAAR. HERMELINK, Heinrich 1975 The earliest reckoning books exist- ing in the Persian language HM 2, 299-303 Abi Ja 'far Muh. b. Ayyib TABARI. XI. PERSIAN ARITHMETIC. COXETER, H S M 1975 The space-time continuum HM 2, 289-298 A CAYLEY. NON-EUCLIDEAN GEOMETRY. L SCHLAFLI. MINKOWSKI WORLD. de SITTER WORLD. CLOCK PARADOX. H. MINKOWSKI. W de SITTER. DAUBEN, Joseph W 1975 The invariance of DIMENSION: Problems in the early development of SET THEORY and TOEOLOGY. HM 2, 273-288 G CANTOR. J LUROTH. J THOMAE. E JURGENS. E NETTO. CROWE, Donald W 1975 The geometry of African art II. A cata- log of Benin patterns HM 2, 253-271 AFRICA. ART. Continues an article on Bakuba patterns in the 1971 Journal of Geometry 1, 169-182. See also the erratum in HM 2, 617. Many illustrations. YATES, Samuel 1975 Prime divisors of repunits Journal of Recreational Mathematics 8, 33-37 PRIME NUMBERS. History, period lengths, and current table from n = 2 to 100 of prime DIVISORS of R, = (lon - 1)/g. (J. H. Bauznwell) SMITH, Cyril Stanley 1975 A seventeenth-century octonary arithmetic Isis 66, 390-394 NUMERATION. XVII. OCTONARY NUMERATION. Facsimile reproduction of two pages of notes in a contemporary volume. 112 Abstracts HM 3 BIRKHOFF, Garrett and Sue Ann GARWOOD, editors 1975 Proceedings of the American Academy Workshop on the Evolution of Modern Mathematics held at the American Academy in Boston, Massachusetts, August 7-9, 1974. HM 2, 425-615 MEETINGS. With a foreword by John VOSS, introductions to the Parts (A: Historiography; B: History of Foundations; C: Foundations; D: Algebra; E: Analysis) by Birkhoff, additional discussion questions by Garwood, and bibliographies by the editors. Discussion after most papers. GRABINER, J V 1975 The mathematician, the historian and the history of mathematics HM 2, 4X9-447 HISTORIOGRAPHY. MAY, Kenneth 0 1975 What is good history and who should do it? HM 2, 449-45s HISTORIOGRAPHY. KOPPELMAN, Elaine 1975 Progress in mathematics HM 2, 457-463 HISTORIOGRAPHY. HISTORICAL THEORY. TROPP, Henry 1975 The role of ORAL COMMUNICATION HM 2, 465- 468 HISTORIOGRAPHY. CROWE, Michael J 1975 Ten “laws” concerning conceptual change in mathematics HM 2, 469-470 HISTORICAL THEORY. HISTORIOGRAPHY. JONES, Phillip S 1975 A role for the history of mathematics HM 2, 471-472 HISTORY OF MATHEMATICS IN EDUCATION. MATHEMATICS POLICY. POPULARIZATION. GRATTAN-GUINNESS, Ivor 1975 Preliminary notes on the historical significance of QUANTIFICATION and of the AXIOMS OF CHOICE in the development of mathematical ANALYSIS HM 2 475-488 LIMITS. MULTIPLE LIMITS. ANALYSIS FOUNDATIONS. GRATTAN-GUINNESS, Tvor 1975 Russell’s logical progress: some new light from manuscript sources HM 2, 489-493 B RUSSELL. LOGIC. N WIENER. FREUDENTHAL, Hans 1975 The cradle of modern TOPOLOGY, accord- ing to Brouwer’s inedita HM 2, 495-502 L E J BROUWER. With FACSIMILE of a letter to D HILBERT. HM 3 Abstracts 113 BISHOP, Errett 1975 The crisis in contemporary mathematics HM 2, 507-517 FOUNDATIONS. CONSTRUCTIVISM. PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS. KOPELL, Nancy and Gabriel STOLZENBERG 1975 Commentary on Bishop's talk HM 2, 519-521 FOUNDATIONS. CONSTRUCTIVISM. PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS. SACKS, Gerald 1975 Remarks against foundational activity HM 2, 523-528 "I want to discourage people...from trying to build FOUNDATIONS for all of mathematics." PUTNAM, Hilary 1975 What is mathematical TRUTH? HM 2, 529-533 PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS. DIEUDONNE, Jean 1975 Introductory remarks on ALGEBRA, TOPOLOGY, and ANALYSIS. HM 2, 537-548 HISTORICAL THEORY. Stresses the concept of FUSION OF THEORIES, CENTERS OF ATTRACTION, and CENTERS OF RADIATION. BAKER, Alan 1975 Some historical remarks on NUMBER THEORY HM 2, 549-553 CATALAN CONJECTURE. MACKEY, Gecrge 1975 Some remarks on HARMONIC ANALYSIS HM 2, 555-562 HISTORICAL THEORY. GENERALIZATION. SPECIALIZATION. HAWKINS, Thomas 1975 Mathematical progress without fusion HM 2, 563-566 HISTORICAL THEORY. FUSION OF THEORIES. ABHYANKAR, Shreeram S 1975 High-school ALGEBRA in ALGEBRAIC GEOMETRY HM 2, 567-572. KLINE, Morris 1975 Opening remarks at session on ANALYSIS HM 2, 575. ZYGMUND, Antoni 1975 The role of FOURIER SERIES in the devel- opment of ANALYSIS HM 2, 591-594 114 Abstracts HM3 BROWDER, Felix E 1975 The relation of FUNCTIONAL ANALYSIS to CONCRETE ANALYSIS in XX century mathematics HM 2, 577-590 SOFT ANALYSIS. HARD ANALYSIS. DIFFERENTIAL EQUATIONS, KAHANE, J P 1975 A central object in mathematics, the BROWNIAN MOTION HM 2, 595-600. DIAZ, Joaquin B 1975 How mathematics progresses HM 2, 601-602 EDUCATION. DOCTORAL DEGREE. The importance of the doctoral “family” in which the supervisor is the “father” of the candidate. WILLIAMS, M R 1974 The Calculator's Quadrant Calgary, Alberta, Canada (Division of Computing Science, University of Calgary) 13 p (mimeographed) Description of a QUADRANT in the Physics Department of ST ANDREWS UNIVERSITY. ARCHIVES. STIPANIC, Ernest 1972 Renaissance polymath FEDERIC GRISOGONO and his views on mathematics (in Serbo-Croatian) Dijalektika 4, 115-138. BOGOLYUBOV, A N 1975 Narisi z istorii mekhaniki [Essays on the history of MECHANICS] Kiev (Naukova Dumka) 191 p A POPULAR1 ZATION without formulas. From ancient times to modern TECHNOLOGY. VERA, Francisco 1970 Cientfficos Griegos [Greek Scientists] Madrid (Agui lar) 2 volumes 2188 p PYTHAGORAS. ARISTOTLE. PLATO. EUCLID. ARISTARCHUS. DEMOCRITUS. EUDEMUS. ARCHIMEDES. APOLLONIUS. PAPPUS. PTOLEMY. PROCLUS. THEODOSIUS. HERON. NICHOMACHUS. DIOPHANTUS. ERATOSTHENES. HIPPARCHUS among others. This is a sourcebook, containing several complete translations (up to some obscure or uninteresting passages), with introductory notes, individual bibliographies and footnotes by the compiler. Some of the translations are very old, as the one of Dioscoride’s REP? ‘i?hn< ~CXTPIK~~L;, published by Andres Laguna in 1555 (Antwerp), and some of them appear for the first time in Spanish. (Victor S. Albis) SNEATH, Peter H A and Robert R SOKAL 1973 Numerical Taxonomy San Francisco (Freeman) 588 p No history but a 60 page (about 1500 items) BIBLIOGRAPHY. HM3 Abstracts 115 MICHAEL, Emily 1974 Peirce’s Early Study of the Logic of Relations, 1865-1867 Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society 10: 2 (1974) 63-75 G BOOLE. ALGEBRA OF CLASSES. A discussion of C S PEIRCE'S early writing on LOGIC showing how his interest in the logic of RELATIVES emerged from his consideration of dyadic relations. The traditional syllogism only deals with propositions ofconcurrence, but is unable to deal with propositions of opposition. Further, it must be supplemented with a new form of SYLLOGISM (what Peirce refers to as a “double subsumption of the case under the rule”) in order to handle the arguments used in mathematical demonstrations. It is also shown that it is very likely that Peirce developed his logic of relations entirely independently of A DE MORGAN'S seminal memoir on RELATIONS of 1859. (C. V. Jones) GOTLIEB, C C 6 A BORODIN 1973 Social Issues in Computing (Academic Press) 298 p MATHEMATICS POLICY. COMPUTERS. MATHEMATICS AND SOCIETY. Requires a technical knowledge of computer science. HOWSON, A G 1975 Addendum to ‘Euler and the Zeta Function’ Amer. Math. Monthly 82, 737 EDUCATION. Two examples of questions on INFINITE SERIES which appeared on the first LONDON UNIVERSITY Matriculation EXAMINATION in 1838. See Ayoub, R HM 2, 390. (H. S. Tropp) SCHAAF, William L 1975 Postal history of mathematics School Science and Mathematics 75, 217-228 POSTAGE STAMPS. Many black and white illustrations of stamps with some historical comments. (J. K. Bidwell) DRAKE, Stillman 1975 Impetus theory reappraised Journal of the History of Ideas 36:l (1975) 27-46 EUCLIQ'S ELEMENTS, DESCARTES, PIERRE GASSENDI, G B BALIANI, HONORE FABRI, G B BENEDETTI, TORRICELLI, ALBERT QF SAXONY, NICOLE ORESME, LEONARDO DA VINCI, PIERRE CAZRE, FRANCISCUS DE MARCHIA, JEAN BURIDAN, ARITHMETIZATION OF THE CONTINUUM, TARTAGLIA, JACQUES ALEXANDRE LE TENNEUR. By analyzing published material, notably that of BURIDAN and ALBERT OF SAXONY, it is shown that the Medievalist had a view of IMPETUS THEORY based on QUANTUM JUMPS of velocity. This introduced discontinuity into the acceleration in free fall and is the key to understanding MEDIEVAL impetus theory, and therefore cannot be the source from which Galileo derived his continuous theory of FREE FALL. (C. V. Jones) 116 Abstracts HM3 WILDER, Raymond L 1974 Evolution of Mathematical Concepts. An Elementary Study London (Transworld Student Library) 236 p (paperback) Reprinted from the first 1968 edition “in associa- tion with Richard Sadler Ltd” for the Open University in whose course it is a “set book.” A four page preface to this edition gives a “brief clarification” of some “misunderstandings which have arisen concerning this work.” ERNEST, John 1975 Mathematics and Sex (Mathematics Department, University of California at Santa Barbara) 29 p WOMEN IN MATHEMATICS, SOCIOLOGY OF MATHEMATICS, MATHEMATICS EDUCATION. Sex differences in education as the root cause of sex differences in mathematical employment and accomplishment. BIBLIOGRAPHY of 23 titles. BALINSKI, M L & H P YOUNG 1975 The quota method of apportion- ment Amer. Math. Monthly 82, 701-730 APPORTIONMENT. A detailed history of the constitutional and mathematical problems of determining the allocation to each state in the U.S. HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES. Covers the periods 1792-1901 and 1910-1973 and discusses methods used and recommended, including HAMILTON METHOD (=VINT~N METHOD), JEFFERSON METHOD (=METHOD OF GREATEST DIVISORS =METHOD 0~ D'HONDT), WEBSTER METHOD (=METH~D 0~ MAJOR FRACTIONS), MODIFIED VINTON METHOD, and the HUNTINGTON METHOD. The authors discuss the problem of meeting constitution requirements, fair- ness and the avoidance of the ALABAMA PARADOX for each of the above and propose the QUOTA METHOD as a unique method best satisfying the essential requirements. TABLES. BIBLIOGRAPHY. (H.S. Tropp) GELLERT, W et al. 1975 Mathematics at a Glance. “A Compend- ium with 950 figures, over 700 multi-coloured, and 56 plates.” Leipzig (VEB Bibliographisches Institut) 760 p A REFERENCE WORK covering “elementary mathematics”, “steps toward higher mathematics” (from set theory to mathematical optimization through topics in undergraduate mathematics), and “brief reports on selected topics” (e.g. number theory, measure theory, found- ations). Plates are largely historical (PORTRAITS, INSTRUMENTS FACSIMILES, etc.), and there are occasional historical comments. DUGAC, Pierre 1973 Documents pour une &ude sur RICHARD DEDEKIND Paris (University of Paris VI) 175 p (Mimeographed) 57 documents, mostly CORRESPONDENCE to and from Dedekind and between other contemporary mathematicians, but a few MANUSCRIPTS. IM 3 Abstracts 117 KING, David A 1974 An ANALOG COMPUTER for solving problems of SPHERICAL ASTRONOMY: the Shakkaziya QUADRANT of Jamal al-din al-MARIDINI drch. ant. d'~ist. Sci. 24(95), 219-242. MEDIEVAL MATHEMATICS. SPHERICAL TRIGONOMETRY. XIV-XV. LENZEN, Victor F 1974 Peirce, Russell and Achilles ~rans- actions of the Charles S. Peirce Society 10:2 (1974) 3-7. ZEN0 OF ELEA, PARADOXES, ACHILLES AND THE TORTOISE, BERTRAND RUSSELL, C D BROAD, CONTINUUM. A discussion of C S PEIRCE’S physical solution to Zeno’s Paradox, which Peirce justifies by also analyzing the paradox using a geometric progression. (C. V. Jones) DRAKE, Stillman and James MacLachlan 1975 Galileo’s discovery of the parabolic trajectory Scientific American 232(3) (March), 102-110. GALILEO. CAVALIERI. PARABOLIC TRAJECTORY. LAW OF FREE FALL. Analysis of unpublished manuscripts and replication of experiments therein described show that Galileo discovered the parabolic trajectory while conducting experiments to establish a law of inertia. (C. V. Jones) INSTITUTE OF HISTORY, AC. SCI. UKRANIAN SSR 1975 Istoriya matematicheskogo obrazovaniya v SSSR. [History of the MATHEMATICAL EDUCATION in the USSR] Kiev (Naukova Dumka) 383 p This book is published by the section of the history of natural sciences and technics of the Institute of History. It contains an introduction “General problems of the mathematical education in the USSR” written by A N KOLMOGOROV, and two parts: (1)“Development of mathematical teaching in the general h-igh school”, and (1I)“Development of mathematical education in the higher school” (higher school = university level). The book contains PORTRAITS of activists in mathematical EDUCATION in the USSR. (B. M. Schein) . STIYANIC, Ernest 1973 The problem of parallels in the work of FEDERICGRISOGONO (In Serbo-Croatian) Matematizki vesnik 10(25), 369-376. An invalid XVI century effort to prove the existence of two non-equidistant lines that do not meet. ROZENFELD, B A 1975 Astonomicheskii trud al-Biruni “Kniga vrazumleniya nachatkam nauki zvezd” (The astronomical work of AL-BIRUNI “The book of instruction in the elements of the art of the stars.” Ist-ast issl 12, 205-226. 118 Abstracts HM 3 STIPANIC, Ernest 1974 The mathematical reviews of FEDERIC GRISOGONO (In Serbo-Croatian) in Actes du Symposium consacr6 2 la vie et 2 l'oeuvre du F&d&ic Grisogono, 2 l'occasion du 500isme anniversaire de sa naissance, Zadar, 60-85. CONNELLY, Ralph D and Brenda SMITH 1975 Measurement: a look at history and the metric system School Science and Mathematics 75, 485-491 Brief discussion of equivalents. METROLOGY. Development of TEMPERATURE SCALES of D G FAHRENHEIT and ANDERS CELSIUS. Brief history of METRIC SYSTEM and its units. (J. K. Bidwell) BRADLEY, A Day 1975 Alligation-relic and recreation School Science and Mathematics 75, 550-554. USA. Discusses ALLIGATION medial and alligation alternate problems as they appear in early American ARITHMETIC TEXTS, including modern algebraic solutions. (J. K. Bidwell) SEMENETS, H 1 1974 Rannii period istoriyi obhruntuvannya heometriyi [The early period in the history of foundations of geometry] Narysy z istoriui pryrodoznavstva i tekhniky Kyyiv [Kiev] (Naukova Dumka) 19, 7-15. A survey of papers on the FOUNDATIONS OF GEOMETRY in ANCIENT GREECE and MEDIEVAL ORIENT. (B. M. Schein) PYASKOVSKII, B V 1973 Rol materialistichnikh traditsii u rozvitkovi vitchisnyanoi matematiki [The role of the material- ist tradition in the development of the Russian and Ukrainian mathematics] Kiev (Kiev University) 183 p PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS. XVII. XVIII. XIX. XX. L P MAGNITSKII. M V LOMONOSOV. L EULER. RUSSIA. UKRAINE. T F OSIPOVSKII. M V OSTROGRADSKII. P L CHEBISHEV. USSR. ROSS, Richard P 1975 ORONCE FINE’S De sinibus libri II: the first printed trigonometric treatise of the French RENAISSANCE. Isis 66, 379-386. TRIGONOMETRY. VERNET, Juan 1974 Mathematics, astronomy, optics, in The Legacy of Islam (Oxford University Press) 461-489. ARAB MATHEMATICS. ASTRONOMY. OPTICS. HM 3 Abstracts 119 BAKER, Keith Michael 1975 Condorcet. From Natural Philosophy to Social Mathematics Chicago (University of Chicago Press) 552 p CONDORCET. PROBABILITY. Focus on the development of his conception of the SOCIAL SCIENCES. BIBLIOGRAPHY (39 pages). SACCOMAN, John Joseph 1974 A study of the HAHN-BANACH THEOREM and its ramifications 170 p Doctoral Thesis at New York Univ- ersity supervised by Professor William Zlot. Contains a history of the theorem. (Dissertation Abstracts 35, 941-B. Order No. 74-17, 155.) (S. M. Eisenberg) STOLZE, Charles Henry 1974 A developmental study of the integral theorems of Gauss and Stokes 149 p Doctoral Thesis at New York University supervised by Professor William Zlot. STOKES THEOREM. GREEN THEOREM. DIVERGENCE THEOREMS. (Dissertation Abstracts 35, 942-B. Order No. 74-17, 161.) (S. M. Eisenberg) RESTIVO, Sal P f, Christopher K VANDERPOOL eds. 1974 Comparative Studies in Science and Society Columbus, Ohio (Charles E. Merrill 480 p An ANTHOLOGY of articles (almost all reprints) on SOCIOLOGY OF SCIENCE, including the 1960 paper by ALEXANDER VUCINICH on the background in RUSSIA for the mathematical tradition in the SOVIET UNION (J. Hist. Ideas 21, 161-179) and that by JOSEPH NEEDHAM on science and society in the East and West (Goldsmith, Maurice and A. Mackay, eds. 1964 Society and Science, 127-149). No index; one would have been useful. RASHED, Roshdi editor 1974 Condorcet: Mathgmatique et soci&t& [CONDORCET: MATHEMATICS AND SOCIETY] Choix de textes et commentaire par Roshdi Rashed Paris (Hermann) 218 p MATHEMATICAL SOCIOLOGY. SOCIAL SCIENCES. Commentary (pp. 9-87), biographical chronology (pp. 88-91)) and chosen excerpts mostly identified only by location in the 12 volume Oeuvres. CROSSLEY, J N 1975 Algebra and Logic. Papers from the 1974 Summer Research Institute of the Australian Mathematica.i Society, Monash University, Australia Springer (Berlin) 307 p This collection of research papers begins with 62 pages of joint reminiscence on MATHEMATICAL LOGIC by C-C CHANG, J CROSSLEY, J KEISLER, S KLEENE, M MORLEY, V MORLEY, A MOSTOWSKI, A NERODE, and G SACKS. Their discussion centers on the development of RECURSIVE FUNCTION 1HEORY from 1930, and paricularly by S C KLEENE and A TURNING. (G. H. Moore) 120 Abstracts HM 3 INDIAN JOURNAL OF HISTORY OF SCIENCE 1974 Proceedings of the Symposium on COPERNICUS and ASTRONOMY held in New Delhi on 19-20 February 1973 I.J.H.S. 9(l), i-iii, l-142 Articles of particular mathematical interest are abstracted below. GUPTA, R C 1974 Solution of the astronomical triangle as found in the Tantra-Samgraha (A.D. 1500) I.J.H.S. 9, 86-99 SPHERICAL TRIGONOMETRY. NILAKANTHA SOMAYAJI. INDIAN ASTRONOMY. XV-XVI. SEN, S N 1974 Epicyclic-eccentric PLANETARY THEORIES in ancient and medieval INDIAN ASTRONOMY I.J.H.S. 9, 107-121 BARONE, Jack 1974 An historical analysis of the development of PROBABILITY FOUNDATIONS 530 p Doctoral Thesis at New York University. BOREL. XX. STEINHAUS. A N KOLMOGOROV. A study of the period 1909-1933. (Dissertation Abstracts 35, 2299-B. Order No. 74-24, 980.) (S. M. Eisenberg) GARDNER, W Davis 1975 Core memory patents challenged by NCR Datamation 21(g), 108 COMPUTER HISTORY. CORE MEMORY. MIT. IBM. RCA. NCR. LITIGATION. JAY W FORRESTER. Includes portrait of Forrester. (H. S. Tropp) COOK, Nathan H 1975 Computer-managed parts manufacture Scientific American 232~2 (February 1975), 23-29 A brief historical survey of the use of COMPUTERS IN MANUFACTURING. (C. V. Jones) WEIL, Andre 1974 Two lectures on NUMBER THEORY, past and present L'Enseignement Math. 20, 87-110 In the 1972 RITT LECTURE SERIES, the author attempted to demonstrate the continuity of the devel- opment of number theory during the past three hundred years. The main threads of development examined are the ZETA FUNCTION and DIOPHANTINE EQUATIONS. Mathematical progress is seen in the works of FERMAT, EULER, LAGRANGE, GOLDBACH, GAUSS, RIEMANN and DEDEKIND, as well as several twentieth-century number theorists. (D. E. Kullman) KAVETT, Hyman & Phyllis F KAVETT 1975 The eye of Horus is upon YOU The Mathematics Teacher 68, 390-394 EGYPTIAN NUMERATION. Hieroglyphic and hieratics scripts, FRACTIONS and other special- ized numerals. (J. K. Bidwell) HM3 Abstracts 121 SHUBNIKOV, A V 6 KOPTSIK, V A 1974 Symmetry in Science and Art (Plenum Press) 445 p Translation of 1972 Simmetriya v nauke i iskusstve Moscow (Nauka). SYMMETRY. WEILING, Franz 1975 J.G. Mendel sowie die von M. Pettenkofer angeregten Untersuchungen des Zusammenhanges von Cholera-und- Typhus-Massenerkrankungen mit dem Grundwasserstand [The research by J G MENOEL on the CORRELATION of cholera and typhus mortality with the level of underground water suggested by M PETTENKOFER. Sudhoffs Archiv. 59(l), l-19 STATISTICS. Also the work of LUDWIG BUHL and L SEIDEL. GARDNER, Martin 1975 Mathematical games: the curious magic of anamorphic ART Scientific American 232: 1 (January 1975)) 110- 116. ANAMORPHIC ART is art produced by PERSPECTIVE distortions that are co-ordinate transformation; e.g., by reflecting the image through a cylindrical mirror. (C. v. Jones) VARCROUX, Andre G 1975 Microcomputers Scientific American 232:5 (May 1975)) 32-40 COMPUTERS. A description and history of MICROCOMPUTERS and their applications. (C. v. Jones) BERMAN, Gerald 1975 Forward Citations in GRAPH THEORY Waterloo, Ontario (Department of Combinatorics and Optimization, University of Waterloo) 246 p A BIBLIOGRAPHY by author (no indication of the period covered or sources) with a topical INDEX (no indica- tion of the indexing method, though it appears to be free index- ing without much vocabulary control), and a CITATION INDEX (for each paper are indicated later papers that cite it.) FEDERICO, P J 1975 The number of polyhedra Philips Res Repts 30, 220*-231* A survey work on the POLYHEDRONS ENUMERATION beginning with L EULER. BIBLIOGRAPHY of 25 references. NAIMAN, Arnold Ross 1974 The role of QUATERNIONS in the history of mathematics 186 p Doctoral Thesis at New York University under Dr. William Zlot. W R HAMILTON. A CAYLEY. (Dissertations Abstracts 35, 2315-B. Order No. 74-25, 010). (S. M. Eisenberg) JAMES, R D 1975 The age of Gage Canadian Mathematical Congress Notes 8(2), 6-7 A note on the career of WALTER GAGE at the UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA. 122 Abstracts HM3 DRAKE, Stillman 1975 The role of music in Galileo's experiments Scientific American 232(6) (June 1975) 98-104 TIME. GALILEO. RATIO. MEASUREMENT. ERROR. Deciphering of unpublished manuscript shows Galileo's technique of measuring small intervals of time and how it was used in deriving the correct law of FREE FALL. (C. V. Jones) CORR, Charles A 1975 Christian Wolff and Leibniz Journal of the History of Ideas 36:2 (1975) 241-262 G W LEIBNIZ, CHRISTIAN WOLFF, OTTO MENCKE, ACTA ERUDITORIUM, ALGEBRA, MATHEMATICAL METHOD, SYLLOGISM, R DESCARTES, E W TSCHIRNHAUS, LOGIC. (C. V. Jones) MOORE, Charles W 6 ?Jicholas PYLE Editors 1974 The Yale Mathe- maticsBui1dingCompetition. Architecture for a Time of Question- ing New Haven and London (Yale University Press) 117 p SOCIOLOGY OF MATHEMATICS. MATHEMATICAL FACILITIES. YALE UNIVERSITY. ARCHITECTURE. An illustrated chronicle of the competition. ERSHOV, Andrei P 1975 A history of computing in the U.S.S.R. Datamation 21 (9) 80-81 COMPUTER HISTORY. USSR. Collection of fragmentary information on hardware, software, operating systems, research and training from 1951 to the present. Discusses the effect of isolation, the social system and geography on the development of the data processing industry in Russia. (H. S. Tropp) ROSS, Bertram 1974 The development, theory, and applications of the GAMMA FUNCTION and a profile of fractional calculus 412 p Doctoral Thesis at New York University supervised by Prof. William Zlot. Presents a historical survey and a chronological BIBLIOGRAPHY of the FRACTIONAL CALCULUS. (Disser- tationAbstracts 35, 941-B. Order No. 74-17, 154.) (S. M. Eisenberg) KAHN, Henry Frank 1974 A study of the manner in which selected topics in ELEMENTARY ALGEBRA were presented to students in America between 1900 and 1970 as revealed in selected commercially published TEXTBOOKS. 317 p Doctoral thesis at Temple University. A study of the pressures of social and historical events on the CURRICULUM. (Dissertation Abstracts 35, 1320-B. Order No. 74-19, 756.) (5'. M. Eisenberg) HM 3 Abstracts 123 CANGUILHEM, Georges editor 1972 ~a mathgmatisation des doctrines informes [The MATHEMATISATION of mathematically unstructured theories] Report of a colloquium held at the Institute of the History of Science at the University of Paris, 24-26 June 1970 under the direction of the editor. Paris (Hermann -- Actualit& scientifiques et industrielles 1346) 237 p MATHEMATICAL MODELLING. AXIOMATIZATION. ROLE OF MATHEMATICS. Includes papers on GALILEO and MECHANICS (J.R. Ravetz), MEDICINE (J. Guillerme), SOCIAL SCIENCES (R. Rashed), PSYCHOLOGY (F. Bresson), ECONOMICS (F. Perroux), and the general question (M.-A. Tonnelat, J. Piquemal) -- in which it becomes clear that the meaning of “informes” is unclear. * BROUWER, L E J 1975 Collected Works. Volume 1: Philosophy and Foundations of Mathematics Edited by A. Heyting Amsterdam (North-Holland) and New York (American Elsevier) 643 p This volume reprints his papers on PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS, FOUNDATIONS, and INTUITIONIST MATHEMATICS. Papers (including his thesis) that originally appeared in Dutch are here translated into English. BIBLIOGRAPHIES of his papers in these fields and of related papers by others, editor’s introduction and notes (51 pages), and indexes in German and English. Brouwer ‘s other mathematical work (mainly on topology) and a complete publication list will be included in the other of the two volumes. WEISSENBORN, Hermann 1972 Die Principien der haheren Analysis in ihrer Entwickelung von Leibniz bis auf Lagrange als ein historisch-kritischer Beitrag zur Geschichte der Mathematik [The principles of higher ANALYSIS in its development from Leibniz to Lagrange as a historical-critical study of the history of mathematics) Leipzig (Zentralantiquariat der Deutschen Demokratischen Republik) 166 p Facsimile REPRINT of the original edition of 1856. CALCULUS FOUNDATIONS. The author divides the CALCULUS into three approaches: FLUXIONS (G P ROBERVAL, I BARROW, I NEWTON, C MACLAURIN), DIFFERENTIAL CALCULUS (GREGORY ST. VINCENT, I BARROW, G LEIBNIZ, BERNOULLIS, BERNHARD NIEUWENTIJT, BROOK TAYLOR, L EULER), and the calculus of derivatives of L LAGRANGE. No commentary. POLYA, George 1974 Collected Papers. volume II: Location of Zeros Edited by R P BOAS Cambridge, Mass. (M. I.T. Press) 454 p SELECTED WORKS. The chronological bibliography of 244 of his publications permits reader to repair the fragmentation induced by chopping up a person’s work according to conventional class- ifications. Youthful PORTRAIT. Volume I contains papers on singularities of analytic functions, and other volumes are promised. 124 Abstracts HM 3 FROLOV, B A 1974 Chisla v grafike paleolita [Numbers in paleo- lithic graphic art] Novosibirsk (Nauka) 238 p PREHISTORIC MATHEMATICS. ARCHEOLOGY OF MATHEMATICS. ART. Survey and analysis of STONE AGE artifacts found on the territory of the USSR and elsewhere, illustrating primitive concepts of ARITH- METIC and ASTRONOMY. Some discussion of findings of ANTHRO- POLOGY and PSYCHOLOGY. 61 plates displaying photographs and drawings of hundreds of artifacts. Independently comes to conclusions similar to those of A MARSHAK. Postscript by I3 M KEDROV and A P AKLADNIKOV. BIBLIOGRAPHY. HODEL, R E 1974 Some results in metrization theory, 1950-1972 Topology Conference Springer-Verlag Lecture Notes in Mathematics, vol. 375, pp. 120-136 BIBLIOGRAPHY. GENERAL METRIZATION PROBLEM. DEVELOPABLE SPACES. POINT-SET TOPOLOGY. 'The history of METRIZ- ATION from 1923 (theorem of Alexandroff and Urysohn) through 1972, with emphasis on more recent results. Most depend on some generalization of the notion of COUNTABLE (LOCAL) BASE. (D. E. Kullman) JAHODA, Cerhard 1971 Identische Strukturen Pythagoreischer Zahlenschemata [Identical structures of Pythagorean number schemata] Vienna (Verlag Elisabeth Lafite) 104 p MYSTICISM. PYTHAGOREANISM. Numbers and geometric forms, FIGURATE NUMBERS, and MUSIC. TURNER, G L'E 1975 Descriptive Catalogue of van Marum's ScientificInstrumentsin Teyler's Museum Part 11 (pages 129-401) of Turner 1973 van Marum's Scientific Instruments...(abstracted in HM 1, 501) here reprinted in paper cover. ARIOTTI, Piero E 1975 BONAVENTURY CAVALIERI, MARIN MERSENNE, and the REFLECTING TELESCOPE Isis 66, 303-321 Shows that Cavalieri, Mersenne, and others considered and attempted to construct reflecting TELESCOPES well before the work of I NEWTON, traditionally giving him priority. The realtion of the work to BURNING MIRRORS and the use of CONIC SECTIONS are described. MUMFORD, David 1975 Curves and their Jacobians Ann Arbor (University of Michigan Press) 106 p No history but a ten- page annotated BIBLIOGRAPHY. HM 3 Abstracts 125 BELL, John et al editors 1973 The Proceedings of the Bertrand Russell Memorial Loqic Conference, Uldum, Denmark 1971 Leeds (Bertrand Russell Memorial Logic Conference, Leeds University) 404 p (Out of print) PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS Includes the history of this "counter-conference" (to a NATO-sponsored logic conference) and papers abstracted below. BELL, John 1973 Some remarks on current mathematical practice in Proc. B. Russell Mem. Logic Conf. 54-57 SOCIOLOGY OF MATHE- MATICS. MATHEMATICS POLICY. EDUCATION. CLARK, Peter 1973 Note on the PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS in Proc. B. Russell Mem. Logic Conf. 112-114. PRIEST, Graham 1973 A bedside reader's guide to the convention- alist PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS in Proc. B. Russell Mem. Logic Conf. 115-132 CONVENTIONALISM. PEPPINGHAUS, Benedikt 1973 Some aspects of Wittgenstein's PHILOSOPHY OF MATHEMATICS in Proc. B. Russell Mem. Logic Conf. 133-140 L WITTGENSTEIN. KENNEDY, H C 1975 Nine letters from GIUSEPPE PEANO to BERTRAND RUSSELL Journal of the History of Philosophy 13(2), 205-220. The originals from the Russell ARCHIVES at McMASTER UNIVERSITY. English translation, and commentary. JACOBSON, Nathan 1974 ABRAHAM ADRIAN ALBERT, 1905-1972 ~~11. Amer. Math. Sot. 80, 1075-1100 BIOGRAPHY. BIBLIOGRAPHY. ASSO- CIATIVE ALGEBRAS. NONASSOCIATIVE ALGEBRAS. LIE GROUPS. RIEMANN MATRICES. (D. E. Kullman) BULLETIN AMER. MATH. SOC., 1975 General Index, Volumes 71-80, 1965-1974. Bull. Amer. Math. Sot. 81(3), Part 2, 51 p AMERICAN MATHEMATICAL SOCIETY. JOURNAL INDEXES. Categories indexed are: research announcements; research problems; invited addresses; book reviews; meetings; errata, corrigenda and addenda; and miscellaneous. Within each category (except meetings), entries are alphabetized by authors' last names. (D. E. Kullman) 126 Abstracts HM3 STEEN, Lynn A 1975 Foundations of mathematics: unsolvable problems Science 189 (18 July) 209-210 UNDECIDABILITY. IMPOS- SIBILITY. CONTINUUM HYPOTHESIS. MODELS. SOUSLIN. CONJECTURE. HILBERT TENTH PROBLEM. A popular account of recent history. DZHALALOVA, z G 1975 Uchenie al-Biruni o dvizhenii solntsa [The teaching of AL-BIRUNI on the motion of the SUN] Istoriko-astron- omicheskie issledovaniya 12, 227-236. STARTSEV, P A 1975 0 kitaiskom kalendare [On the CHINESE CALEN- DAR] Ist.-ast. issl. 12, 253-334. KDZHANCHIKOV, V I 1975 Printsipy postroeniya i deistviya kalendarya maiya [Principles of construction and operation of the MAYAN CALENDAR] Ist.-ast. issl. 12, 335-356. MCLAUGHLIN, Richard A 1!)75 The IBM 704: 36-bit floating point money-maker Datamation 21(8), 45-50 COMPUTER HISTORY. IBM 704. SHARE. A description of the primary innovations in the 704, and its impact on the evolution of the commercial computer industry. (H. S. Tropp) GUPTA, R C 1975 Circumference of the Jambudvipa in JAINA COSMOGRAPHY. Indian Journal of History of Science 10(l), 38-46 JAINA MATHEMATICS. PI. MEDIEVAL MATHEMATICS. ROBINSON, G de B 1975 HANS A HEILBRONN Canadian Mathematical Congress Notes 8(l), 15 An OBITUARY. APOKIN, 1 A and L E MAISTROV 1974 Razvitie vychislitelnykh mashin [The development of CALCULATING MACHINES] Moscow (Nauka) 399 p The ABACUS, CALCULATING INSTRUMENTS, MECHANICAL CALCULATORS ELECTRICAL CALCULATING MACHINES, and (226 p) electronic digital COMPUTERS. Chronology and bibliographic note. ANON., 1975 Award of the 1975 CHAUVENET PRIZE to Professors MARTIN D DAVIS and REUBEN HIRSCH Amer. Math. Mon. 82, 108-109 AWARDS. For their paper on HILBERT'S TENTH PROBLEM (Scientific American 229, 84-91) (H. S. Tropp) HM3 Abstracts 127 BUSARD, H L L 1974 Ein mittelalterlicher Euklid-Kommentar, der Roger Bacon zugeschrieben werden kann (A MEDIEVAL EUCLID commentary that may be due to ROGER BACON) Arch. Int. c2'Hist. Sci. 24(95), 199-218 In question is the MS Florence, Bib]. Naz. Conv. Soppr. J. IX, 26, XV-XVI 46'-5Sr formerly attributed to ADELARD OF BATH. The text is in an appendix. NEEDHAM, Joseph 1974 La tradition scientifique chinoise Paris (Hermann) 306 p REPRINTS. SELECTED WORKS. Eleven articles (without clear indication of sources or whether reprinted or translated) from 1954 to 1962, of which one compares CHINESE MATHEMATICS with the western. SZUPROWICZ, Bohdan 0 1975 China's computer industry Datamation 21(6), 83-88 COMPUTER HISTORY. CHINA. Brief chronology of the development of computers in China, beginning with manufacture of copies of Soviet machines in 1958 to the current production of third generation computers. (H. S. Tropp) KUNITZSCH, Paul 1974 Der Almagest. Die Syntaxis Mathematics des Claudius Ptolemxus in arabisch-lateinischer cberlieferung [The ALMAGEST. The Syntaxis Mathematics of CLAUDIUS PTOLEMY in Arabic-Latin transmission] Wiesbaden (Otto Harrassowitz) 410 p DM 160 ARAB MATHEMATICS. MEDIEVAL MATHEMATICS. ABU MASAR. ABUL WAFA. AL-BIRUNI. GERHARD OF CREMONA. IBN AL-QIFTI. IBN AS-SALAH. NASIR AL-DIN. THABIT IBN QURRA. A detailed analysis of texts, documents, and terminology with 10 facsimile photo- graphs, word concordances, and star catalogues. PERRY, Z Gustav0 1973 Apuntes para la historia de las ciencias basicas en Colombia [History of the basic sciences in Colombia] Rev. Acad. Colombiana Ci. Ex. Fis. Nat. 14, 5-32 A short but well-documented account of the development of SCIENCES (including mathematics) in Colombia from the beginning of the COLONIAL PERIOD to the present day. The influence of certain political, social and economic aspects on this development is stressed. (V. S. Albis Gonzdlez) JONES, Burton W 1975 An Introduction to Modern Algebra New York (MacMillan Pub. Co.) 366 p ABSTRACT ALGEBRA. ALGEBRA. A very well-written TEXTBOOK WITH HISTORICAL MATERIAL (biographical notes at the end of each chapter). (V. S. Albis Gonz6lez) 128 Abstracts HM 3 WALDSCHMIDT, Michel 1974 Initiation aux nombres transcendants [Introduction to TRANSCENDENTAL NUMBERS] L'Enseiqnement Math. 20, 53-85 Emphasis is on the theorem of A 0 GELFOND and T SCHNEIDER concerning the transcendence of ab and the theorem of A BAKER on the linear independence of logarithms of algebraic numbers. A brief historical survey of results from the time of Liouville is included. (0. E. Kullman) MARDEN, Morris 1975 Joseph L. Walsh in memoriam Bull. Amer. Math. Sot. 81, 45-65 J L WALSH (OBITUARY, PORTRAIT, BIBLIOG- RAPHY, LIST OF PH.D STUDENTS). COMPLEX ANALYSIS. (D. E. Kullman) GLUCK, Herman 1975 MANIFOLDS with preassigned CURVATURE -- a survey Bull. Amer. Math. Sot. 81. 313-329 RIEMANNIAN GEOMETRY. BIBLIOGRAPHY. Discusses the MINKOWSKI PROBLEM and its generalization, as well as the converse to the GAUSS- BONNET THEOREM. (D. E. Kullman) FISHER, R A 1971-1975 Collected Papers Edited by J.H. Bennett Adelaide (Department of Genetics, University of Adelaide, South Australia 5001) Five volumes 2972 p US $115 COLLECTED WORKS. Nearly 300 papers, including joint articles and selected letters, reviews, etc. Reprinted with some corrections and comments by Fisher. Complete BIBLIOGRAPHY, subject, author, and self- citation INDEXES. PORTRAITS. SHAMSI, F A 1973 Towards a Definitive Solution of Zeno's Paradoxes with foreword by Hakim M. Said Karachi (Hamdard Academy) 84 p The author accepts the ZEN0 PARADOXES and rejects actual INFINITY. BIBLIOGRAPHY. GRATTAN-GUINNESS, I 1974 Achilles is still running Transactions of the Charles S. Peirce Society lo:1 (1974) 5-16 C S PEIRCE, ACHILLES AND THE TORTOISE, LEWIS CARROLL, PARADOX, CONTRADICTION, TIME, KARL POPPER, INFINITESIMALS, LIMITS, LIMIT-AVOIDANCE, ZEN0 OF ELEA. The Achilles-Tortoise argument is, in fact, a contra- diction as stated by Zeno. It is only by adding extra premises that Zeno's formulation becomes a paradox. The typical extra premise added is that of the orthodox theory of time. The same analysis is applied to Carroll's "What the Tortoise Said to Achilles" article in Mind (n.s.) 4 (1895), 278-280. (C. V. Jones) HM3 Abstracts 129 LINNIK, V P 1975 Trudy Keplera v oblasti optiki [The work of KEPLER in OPTICS] Istoriko-astronomicheskie issledovaniya 12, 89-100. TAGI-ZADE, A K and S A VAKHABOV 1975 Astrolyabii srednevekovogo Vostoka [ASTROLABES of the MEDIEVAL MIDDLE EAST] Ist-ast issl 12, 169-204 AL-BIRUNI. AL-ZARKALI. WILLERDING, Margaret F 1975 The Pythagorean legacy Schoo.1 Science and Mathematics 75, 145-154 PYTHAGOREAN MATHEMATICS. A summary of the life of PYTHAGORAS and the contributions of the Pythagorean Brotherhood. (J. K. Bidwell) ROGERS, L F 1975 Finding out in the History of Mathematics (Private preprint available from the author at Digby Stuart College, Roehampton, London S.W. 15. England. Price: 35 pence) 33 pages with supplement May 1975 on non-book materials, 10 pages. "A resourcefile of bibliographic, audio-visual and other materials for students and teachers." AUDIO-VISUAL MEDIA. BIOGRAPHY. EDUCATION. FILMS. SLIDES. WALL-CHARTS. A BIBLIOGRAPHY of English language source material. Contains mainly secondary and some primary sources available through English library or source material loan systems. Further collections on Geometry, Algebra, Calculus, Calculating Devices, and a Time-Chart are in preparation. The author welcomes any comments from users on accuracy of entries and classification of sections. (L. F. R.) SCHLISSEL, Arthur 1974 The development of ASYMPTOTIC SOLUTIONS of LINEAR ORDINARY DIFFERENTIAL EQUATIONS, 1819-1930 210 p Doctoral Thesis at New York University supervised by Professor Morris Kline (Dissertation Abstracts 35, 941-B. Order No. 74-18, 196.) (S. M. Eisenberg) KODAIRA, Kunihiko 1975 Collected Works (Iwanami Shoten and Princeton University Press) 1634 p PORTRAIT, 9 page biographical preface, and reprints of 70 articles 1937-1971 by the author (who was 60 years old in March 1975) on TOPOLOGY, HILBERT SPACES, HARMONIC INTEGRALS, ALMOST PERIODIC FUNCTIONS, SHEAVES, ALGEBRAIC GEOMETRY, COMPLEX MANIFOLDS, DEFORMATION THEORY. SCHMIDT, Olaf 1975 A system of Axioms for the Archimedean theory of equilibrium and centre of gravity Centaurus 19, l-35 ARCHIMEDES. STATICS IN ANTIQUITY. An axiomatic exposition following the Archimedean line which corrects the formal and mathematical defects of Archimedes' "On the equilibrium of planes or the centre of gravity of planes." (K. M. Pedersen) 130 Abstracts HM 3 BROWN, David K 1975 Letter to the American Scientist 63(3) (Flay-June), 261 Precursors of the development by RICHARD V SOUTHWELL of RELATION METHODS, reported by G Birkhoff in Amer. Scientist 63(l), 83-91 BIRKHOFF, Garrett 1975 Reply to the letter by D K Brown American Scientist 63(3) (May-June), 261-262 He did not claim a first for RICHARD V SOUTHWELL but merely BIERMANN, K-R 1975 Mit dem Wissen kommt das Denken, und mit dem Denken der Ernst und die Kraft in die Menge. A.v. Humboldts Einflussnahme auf Reformen der Berliner Akademie der Wissenschafter ("With knowledge comes thought and with thought earnestness and strength in abundance." The influence of A.v. Humboldt on the reform of the BERLIN ACADEMY OF SCIENCE). Wissenschaft u. Fortschritt 25(4), 162-168 DRAKE, Stillman 1975 FREE FALL from ALBERT OF SAXONY to HONORE FABRI Stud. Hist. Phil. Sci. S(4), 347-366 LEONARDO DA VINCI. GALILEO. PROPORTION. EISELE, Carolyn 1975 Salomon Bochner on Charles S. Peirce-I Amer. Math. Monthly 82, 477-478 Brief criticism of S. BOCHNER'S analysis of C.S. PEIRCE'S philosophy and mathematical competence in "Mathematical Reflections" (Amer. Math. Monthly 81, 427-478) which ignored unpublished Peirce manuscripts. (H. S. Tropp) FISCH, Max H 1975 Salomon Bochner on Charles S. Peirce-II Amer. Math. Monthly 82, 478-481 C. S. PEIRCE. PHILOSOPHY. LOGIC. CONTINUITY. Brief critique of some strengths and weak- nesses in S. BOCHNER'S "Mathematical Reflections" (Amer. Math. Monthly 81, 427-488). (H. S. Tropp) GAUSS, C F 1975 Carl Friedrich Gauss - Friedrich Wilhelm Bessel Briefwechsel (The C. F. GAUSS-F. W. BESSEL CORRESPONDENCE) Carl Friedrich Werke Erganzungsreihe, Band I Hildesheim (George Olms) 623 p. Facsimile REPRINT of the original edition of 1880, Leipzig somewhat reduced in size. An essential source for both Gauss and Bessel. Letters run from 1804 to 1844. HACKING, Ian 1975 The Emergence of Probability. A Philosophi- cal Study of Early Ideas about Probability, Induction and HM3 Abstracts 131 Statistical Inference. Cambridge University Press and Macmillan in Canada. 212 p. $17.95. A historical-philosophical study of the beginnings of mathematical theory of PROBABILITY and STATISTICS in the XVII century. BIBLIOGRAPHY (16 p.) of primary and second- ary sources attempts complete coverage of 1654-1700. HILTON, Peter 1975 The new emphasis on applied mathematics Newsletter of the Conference Board of the Math. Sciences lo(Z), 17-19. CURRENT HISTORY. A thoughtful critique of the PURE AND APPLIED MATHEMATICS chimera. HINES, Peter 1975 Surprises, Problems and Paradoxes Games and Puzzles no. SS(February), 7-13. Describes some well-known para- doxes that have baffled mankind through the ages, together with others that are little-known and few of recent origin. PARADOXES, LOGIC. HOUGHTON, Bernard 1975 Scientific Periodicals, Their Historical Development, Characteristics and Control. Hamden, Connecticut (Linnet Books). 135 p. $10. SERIALS. BIBLIOGRAPHY. Very little on mathematics. ISTORIYA NAUKI I NAUKOVEDENIE 1975 (History of science, and science of science). Tenth Baltic Conference on the History of Science. Abstracts of Papers. Riga (Zinatne). 211 p. Sponsored by the Academy of Science of the Latvian SSR and the Society of the History and Philosophy of Science and Technology of the USSR, held in Riga and Elgava, concentrating on the BALTIC COUNTRIES. Abstracts of 90 papers by 96 authors including P. V. Miliirsepp on G. W. LEIBNIZ, A. P. Yushkevich on mathematics in the PETERSBURG ACADEMY in XVIII, N. 1. Nevskaya and E. P. Ozhigova on the FUSS family, P. Vitkevichyus on mathematical sciences in LITHUANIA in the early XIX, Yu. M. Gaiduk, and I. A. Naumov on M. V. OSTROGRADSKII, Ya. P. Stradyn and A. P. Erglis on 0. YU. SHMIDT, D. Ya. Zilmanovich on E. I. BINEMAN and his work in MECHANICS and AERONAUTICS, 1. A. tieninya on mathematics in the Petrov Academy at ELGAVA (METAVA). "Naukovedenie"has no exact translation, but as used here it covers "general questions on the development of science" including SOCIOLOGY OF SCIENCE, SCIENCE POLICY, HISTORICAL THEORY, GEOGRAPHY OF SCIENCE, and SCIENCE OF SCIENCE. MAUCHLY, John W. 1975 Retrospective: Mauchly on the trials of building ENIAC Spectrum 12 (April), 70-76. COMPUTER HISTORY. 132 Abstracts HM 3 ENIAC. J.P. ECKERT. M. MAUCHLY. H. GOLDSTINE. A. BURKS. Personal account of evolution, design, and construction of ENIAC. (H. S. Tropp) LAM, T. Y. and M. K. SIU 1975 K. and Kl - An Introduction to Algebraic K-Theory Amer. Math. Monthly 82, 329-364. ALGEBRAIC K-THEORY. Survey plus a brief historical note citing some ger- minal work of GROTHENDIECK, H. BASS, M. ATIYAH, F. HIRZEBRUCH, and J. MILNOR. Bibliography. (H. S. Tropp) KOLATA, Gina Bari 1975 Foundations of Mathematics: Ties to Infinite Games Science 188, 923-924. FOUNDATIONS. GAME THEORY. THEORY OF SETS. AXIOM OF DETERMINANCY. Brief discussion of the role of game theory in the study of mathematical foundations, beginning with D. GALE and F. M. STEWART'S work on infinite games (1953) and concluding with work of D. A. MARTIN (1975) on the determinancy of BOREL SETS. (H. S. Tropp) PRICE, Derek de Solla 1975 Science Since Babylon. Enlarged Edition. New Haven & London (Yale University Press). 231 p. $15 ($3.45 paper) SCIENCE OF SCIENCE. SOCIOLOGY OF SCIENCE. HISTORICAL THEORY. GROWTH. QUANTITATIVE HISTORY. A reprint of the original of 1961 plus an additional preface, postscripts to three of six chapters, three new chapters (AUTOMATA, CLOCKS, REGULAR POLYGONS, GEOMETRIC MYSTICISM, PHILOSOPHY OF TECHNOLOGY), minor changes, and a smaller index. STEEN, Lynn A 1975 Public understanding of the mathematical sciences Newsletter of the Conference Board of the Math. Sciences 10(2), 21-23 COMMUNICATION. POPULARIZATION. INFORMATION RE- TRIEVAL. MATHEMATICS POLICY. CURRENT HISTORY. SMITH, F G and others 1975 Three hundred years of Greenwich Nature 255(5510) (19 June), 581-606 Seven articles on the history of ASTRONOMY and GREENWICH OBSERVATORY. REGHINI BONELLI, M L 6 William R SHEA, editors 1975 Reason, Experiment, and Mysticism in the Scientific Revolution New York (Science History Publications) 320 p. An ANTHOLOGY including Stillman Drake on GALILEO and FREE FALL, Pierre Costabel on mathematics and Galileo's inclined plane experiment, and Reng Taton on the mathematical revolution of the XVII century. 
work_z62wmujm4zb6ndlfey7yznmtp4	----	Emilia Francis Strong: Portraits of a Lady | Nineteenth-Century Literature | University of California Press Skip to Main Content Close UCPRESS ABOUT US BLOG SUPPORT US CONTACT US Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content Nineteenth-Century Literature Search User Tools Register Carnegie Mellon University Carnegie Mellon University Sign In Toggle MenuMenu Content Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info For Authors Librarians Reprints & Permissions About Journal Editorial Team Contact Us Skip Nav Destination Article Navigation Close mobile search navigation Article navigation Volume 8, Issue 2 September 1953 This article was originally published in Nineteenth-Century Fiction   Next Article Article Navigation Research Article| September 01 1953 Emilia Francis Strong: Portraits of a Lady R. J. Harris R. J. Harris Search for other works by this author on: This Site PubMed Google Scholar Nineteenth-Century Fiction (1953) 8 (2): 81–98. https://doi.org/10.2307/3044434 Split-Screen Views Icon Views Article contents Figures & tables Video Audio Supplementary Data PDF LinkPDF Share Icon Share Facebook Twitter LinkedIn Email Guest Access Tools Icon Tools Get Permissions Cite Icon Cite Search Site Citation R. J. Harris; Emilia Francis Strong: Portraits of a Lady. Nineteenth-Century Fiction 1 September 1953; 8 (2): 81–98. doi: https://doi.org/10.2307/3044434 Download citation file: Ris (Zotero) Reference Manager EasyBib Bookends Mendeley Papers EndNote RefWorks BibTex toolbar search Search search input Search input auto suggest search filter All Content Nineteenth-Century Literature Search This content is only available via PDF. Article PDF first page preview Close Modal Send Email Recipient(s) will receive an email with a link to 'Emilia Francis Strong: Portraits of a Lady' and will not need an account to access the content. *Your Name: *Your Email Address: CC: *Recipient 1: Recipient 2: Recipient 3: Recipient 4: Recipient 5: Subject: Emilia Francis Strong: Portraits of a Lady Optional Message: (Optional message may have a maximum of 1000 characters.) Submit × Citing articles via Google Scholar CrossRef Latest Most Read Most Cited Wasted Gifts: Robert Louis Stevenson in Oceania Bright Sunshine, Dark Shadows: Decadent Beauty and Victorian Views of Hawai‘i “The Meaner & More Usual &c.”: Everybody in Emma Contributors to this Issue Recent Books Received Email alerts Article Activity Alert Latest Issue Alert Close Modal Recent Content Browse Issues All Content Purchase Alerts Submit Info for Authors Info for Librarians About Editorial Team Contact Us Online ISSN 1067-8352 Print ISSN 0891-9356 Copyright © 2021 Stay Informed Sign up for eNews Twitter Facebook Instagram YouTube LinkedIn Visit the UC Press Blog Disciplines Ancient World Anthropology Art Communication Criminology & Criminal Justice Film & Media Studies Food & Wine History Music Psychology Religion Sociology Browse All Disciplines Courses Browse All Courses Products Books Journals Resources Book Authors Booksellers Instructions Journal Authors Journal Editors Librarians Media & Journalists Support Us Endowments Membership Planned Giving Supporters About UC Press Careers Location Press Releases Seasonal Catalog Contact Us Acquisitions Editors Customer Service Exam/Desk Requests Media Inquiries Print-Disability Rights & Permissions Royalties UC Press Foundation © Copyright 2021 by the Regents of the University of California. All rights reserved. Privacy policy   Accessibility Close Modal Close Modal This Feature Is Available To Subscribers Only Sign In or Create an Account Close Modal Close Modal This site uses cookies. By continuing to use our website, you are agreeing to our privacy policy. Accept 
work_zi5jhvshknakhboctp76hdq5ya	----	Donald B. Freeman. A City of Farmers: Informal Urban Agriculture in the Open Spaces of Nairobi, Kenya. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1991. pp. xxiv, 159. Illustrations. $34.95 All Rights Reserved © Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine, 1993 Ce document est protégé par la loi sur le droit d’auteur. L’utilisation des services d’Érudit (y compris la reproduction) est assujettie à sa politique d’utilisation que vous pouvez consulter en ligne. https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ Cet article est diffusé et préservé par Érudit. Érudit est un consortium interuniversitaire sans but lucratif composé de l’Université de Montréal, l’Université Laval et l’Université du Québec à Montréal. Il a pour mission la promotion et la valorisation de la recherche. https://www.erudit.org/fr/ Document généré le 5 avr. 2021 21:07 Urban History Review Revue d'histoire urbaine Donald B. Freeman. A City of Farmers: Informal Urban Agriculture in the Open Spaces of Nairobi, Kenya. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1991. pp. xxiv, 159. Illustrations. $34.95 Christopher Leo Volume 21, numéro 2, march 1993 URI : https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1016799ar DOI : https://doi.org/10.7202/1016799ar Aller au sommaire du numéro Éditeur(s) Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine ISSN 0703-0428 (imprimé) 1918-5138 (numérique) Découvrir la revue Citer ce compte rendu Leo, C. (1993). Compte rendu de [Donald B. Freeman. A City of Farmers: Informal Urban Agriculture in the Open Spaces of Nairobi, Kenya. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1991. pp. xxiv, 159. Illustrations. $34.95]. Urban History Review / Revue d'histoire urbaine, 21(2), 121–122. https://doi.org/10.7202/1016799ar https://apropos.erudit.org/fr/usagers/politique-dutilisation/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/ https://id.erudit.org/iderudit/1016799ar https://doi.org/10.7202/1016799ar https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/1993-v21-n2-uhr0676/ https://www.erudit.org/fr/revues/uhr/ Book Reviews / Comptes rendus ponder the latest social and political ab- surdities at once enliven the book and suggest its unabashed subjectivity. Richler speaks only for Richler, and Québécois are they, not we (though sometimes oui). He largely approves of Trudeau and Levesque: his list of the hapless and the venal is long. Much of the controversy is generated by Richler's power to both pique vanity and pinch a nerve. The country is troubled and Richler has overlaid a largely cogent analysis with venom and hurt. This is no surprise: Richler has never been a respecter of the Law of the Father, whether in family, religion, or country. Oh Canada! Oh Quebec! is a significant artifact in the current nation- al debate, but it does make one wonder if Uncle Benjy was not ultimate- ly correct in his deathbed advice to Duddy Kravitz: You've got to take them to your heart no matter what. They're the family remember, and to see only their faults (like I did) is to look at them like a stranger7 As a postscript, there is one vignette that Richler does not include in this book, one meaningful to this reviewer, an Anglophone who grew up in a north- ern Quebec mining town in the Fifties and Sixties. (Best to declare one's biases on this topic.) At the memorial service for Hugh McLennan in the Birks Chapel at McGill University in the fall of 1990, an end-of-an-era feeling was in the post- Meech air, melancholy hovering over the dark-suited, mostly elderly mourners redolent of an earlier era in WASP Montreal. Mordecai Richler was there, and one eulogist solemnly declared that with the death of the author of Two Solitudes and Return of the Sphinx, the mantle of anglophone Montreal writer had passed to Mordecai Richler. It was a moving moment, and there was a pal- pable feeling in that shadowy, crowded chapel that this was so. The mantle sure- ly streams from very different shoulders, and its gifted wearer must wonder if it is not really a hair shirt. SANDRA CAMPBELL Department of English University of Ottawa References 1. Samuel Butler, "A Psalm of Montreal" in The Blasted Pine, ed. F.R. Scott and A.J.M. Smith (Toronto: Macmillan, 1967)62. 2. Richler, "Home Is Where You Hang Yourself," Home Sweet Home (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1984). 3. Richler, "Expo 67," The Great Comic Book Heroes And Other Essays (Toronto: McClelland and Stewart, 1978) 106. 4. Mavis Gallant, "An Introduction," Home Truths (Toronto: Macmillan, 1982) xii. 5. A.M. Klein, "Montreal," The Collected Poems of A.M. Klein (Toronto: McGraw-Hill Ryerson, 1974) 316. 6. Norman Levine, "Author's Note," Canada Made Me (1958) (rep. Ottawa: Deneau, 1979) 9. 7. Richler, The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz (Markham: Penguin, 1959)278. Donald B. Freeman. A City of Farmers: Informal Urban Agriculture in the Open Spaces of Nairobi, Kenya. Montreal and Kingston: McGill-Queen's University Press, 1991. pp. xxiv, 159. Illustrations. $34.95. The centrality of agriculture to an under- standing of African society, as well as to hopes for that continent's economic development, is gradually gaining grow- ing recognition in scholarly literature. Industrialization, which was seen by many in the 1960s and 70s as the pri- mary instrument of the search for pros- perity, has clearly failed to realize the hopes for it. Even urbanization, a much more durable and genuinely influential phenomenon, has not cut the ties of the majority of Africans to their rural origins, or diminished the importance of agricul- ture to economic survival and prosperity. A City of Farmers underlines this point by drawing attention to the widely-neglected fact that agriculture permeates even urban society. In a fascinating and long- overdue study, Prof. Freeman reports the results of two investigations of urban agriculture in Kenya, focussing on a questionnaire administered to a random sample of urban cultivators in Nairobi. The study yields a substantial body of in- formation on the urban farmers, their agricultural practices, their previous oc- cupations, their other activities and the importance of agriculture in their lives. The information is presented effectively and yields important insights into the society and economy of a major African city. The author points out, for example, that the majority of urban cultivators are women, and that their position in the city reflects the burdens imposed upon them in a patriarchal society. He presents evidence of the extreme poverty of many urban farmers and shows that urban agriculture is often desperately important to their survival. He shows how traditional land usages have helped to shape a dis- tinctly African approach to land rights and social responsibilities. He cata- logues the reasons for engaging in urban agriculture, gives a great deal of informa- tion about the agriculturalists, and details crops and locations. In the process he of- fers much insight into the society of Nairobi and, undoubtedly, many other African cities. All of this is done well. The least satisfying part of the study is a brief, somewhat unfocussed history of the development of the city of Nairobi, the purpose of which is apparently to describe how open space currently devoted to urban agriculture escaped urban development. The study raises too many interesting questions to justify this side trip. Another shortcoming, perhaps 121 Urban History Review/Revue d'histoire urbaine Vol. XXI, No. 2 (March, 1993) Book Reviews / Comptes rendus unavoidable, results from the question- naire—regrettably not reproduced in the text—that apparently asked stand- ardized, simple-answer questions of a random sample of more than 600 respon- dents. With this method, the author gleaned a large body of replicable data, but was understandably not able to achieve as much depth as students of Kenya society and politics might wish. For example, one would like to know more about how urban agriculture is re- lated to the rural agrarian economy, and thus the society as a whole. Do some urban farmers maintain relations with kin elsewhere in the country, and what are the economic dimensions of such relations? To what extent is residence in the city a reaction to in- tolerable conditions in the rural areas, and what is it that was intolerable? To what extent is the move an attempt to seek a better life in the city? The author speculates on the answers but the sur- vey method necessarily prevented him from finding out his respondents' own answers to those questions. It would also be interesting to know what role ethnicity plays in the politics of urban agriculture. Is the central city more ethnically mixed than the suburbs because the people there prefer to live near the area where they eventually hope to obtain employment, as the author speculates, or because Kikuyu people and perhaps Wakamba are loath to allow others to encroach on "their" ter- ritory? Another set of questions has to do with Kenya's development strategy. Freeman hints at a problem when he points out that lack of investment in rural agriculture and industry drives rural residents, frus- trated by lack of economic opportunity, to the cities. However, rural escapees do not find the golden opportunities they hope for. In the end they often find them- selves practicing an insecure and usual- ly ill-financed form of peasant agriculture in their back yards and on railroad rights- of-way in the city. Freeman's study reminds us that the failure of many third- world governments to create conditions for the profitable pursuit of small-scale rural agriculture and industry has the per- verse side-effect of displacing peasant agriculture from rural areas to cities. How- ever, the study does not address these implications of its findings. There is much scope here for further study. Obviously, Prof. Freeman could not have been expected to do justice to all these questions in a slender volume. What he has done is a valuable study that provides an excellent base for further in- vestigation of agrarian society and ur- banization in Africa and elsewhere in the third world. CHRISTOPHER LEO Political Science University of Winnipeg Kuklick, Bruce. To Everything A Season: Shibe Park and Urban Philadelphia, 1909-1976. Princeton: Princeton University Press, 1991. pp. xii, 237. 22 black and white plates, maps, essay on sources, and index. $19.95 (U.S.). This is a history of a ball park, the neighbourhood it was a part of, the teams that played in it, and particularly the place of the park in the lives and im- aginations of the fans, players, and owners. It was no field of dreams, in the middle of an Iowa corn field. Baseball is, for Bruce Kuklick, a peculiarly urban phenomenon. A Ronald Reagan might reinvent it for his Iowa radio audience in the 1930s, but big league baseball grew with the cities. Shibe Park (much later renamed Connie Mack Stadium) opened in 1909. It was the first of the privately-financed con- crete and steel stadiums, the successors to the often dangerous wooden struc- tures of the late 19th century. Three of these ball parks still survive—Wrigley Field in Chicago, Fenway Park in Boston, and New York's Yankee Stadium—Comis- key Park in Chicago closed last year. Shibe survived over sixty-one years as an anchor to North City, a new neighbour- hood that developed in the shadow of Philadelphia and persisted into an era of demographic transformation and the harsh politics of urban renewal. Benjamin Shibe, a sporting goods manufacturer and his partner and field manager of the Philadelphia A's, the legendary Connie Mack, located their new stadium in an area previously referred to as Swampoodle. Cheap open land and its accessibility by the Broad Street trolley, as well as three railway lines, made the site appealing. Opening day fans approached an ornate French renaissance facade, with a tower at its corner containing offices for the partners. Inside there was seating for 23,000 with a theoretical capacity, including stan- dees, for a then incredible 40,000. Professor Kuklick's emphasis is on the role of this ferro-concrete structure as a part of the connective tissue in "the way sport is instrumental in ordinary people's construction of a meaningful past for themselves." Thus his title may be evoca- tive of past seasons of baseball glory, but it is intended as a commentary on the transient role of a piece of urban architec- ture in containing or perpetuating the public memory of an important element of popular culture. Shibe Park's season is past, the A's long ago departed for Kansas City and then Oakland and few recall their tie to Philadelphia. The Phil- lies have played in Veterans Stadium for over twenty years now and Kuklick is not interested in rekindling nostalgia but in understanding Shibe's role as a cultural artifact. 122 Urban History Review/Revue d'histoire urbaine Vol. XXI, No. 2 (March, 1993) 
work_zhkrsti4zfe6zb3axw6osrl5ci	----	129 Returned to the People: The Transformation of Egyptian Royal Palaces into Museums Hanan Ismail Abstract The palaces of Muḥammad ʿAlī’s dynasty cost a fortune to build and maintain. After the 1952 Revolution, most of these palaces were confiscated and became the property of the Egyptian government. Some of them were turned into historical museums. Once opened, the palace museums attracted many visitors. This paper examines how three of these palaces - ‘Abdīn Palace; Farouq Rest House and Manyal Palace - functioned as museums in post-revolutionary Egypt, and how heritage functioned in the process of building the modern Egyptian nation state in the 20th century. These three palaces were opened as historical museums because of their historical, architectural and artistic values. The important symbolic functions of the palaces are reflected in the involvement of the highest politicians in the opening ceremonies. Nowadays, even though the studied palaces are not currently common on the tourist itinerary, they are still part of the cultural program of Egyptian school classes. Keywords ‘Abdīn Palace – Farouq Rest House – Manyal Palace – historical museums – palaces of Muḥammad ʿAlī’ dynasty Introduction While Egypt is most famous for its pharaonic remains, it was also enriched by spectacular palaces built during the reign of Muḥammad ʿAlī’ dynasty (1805-1952). These palaces cost a fortune to build and maintain. After the 1952 revolution, all the palaces of the king and most of the palaces of the royal family were confiscated and became the property of the government. Some of these palaces were turned into historical museums presenting Egyptian élite life as it had been lived inside. These museum palaces play an important role in preserving the national identity of Egypt and represent a vital part of its heritage. Royal Palaces and the Formation of Post-Revolution Egyptian Identity Between 1858 and 1908 imperialism and archaeology in Egypt were closely linked. Europeans were the founders of the Egyptian Antiquities Service and the four museums.1 These museums remained largely European-dominated until the 1950s, when the Egyptians realized the vital role of archaeology in shaping their national identity. Nationalists challenged both the European control of Egypt’s archaeological institutions and Western imperialist’s interpretations.2 In fact, museums were important arenas in the struggle for national independence.3 Museums are human society’s equivalent of cultural memory banks. Only museums uniquely collect, preserve, research, and publicly display objects as an essential function of their existence. They help in the shaping of the cultural values.4 The new regime after the outbreak of July revolution in 1952 tried to recast the local history as the history of an Egyptian nation.5 1 The Egyptian Museum (Cairo, 1906), Graeco-Roman Museum (Alexandria, 1892), Coptic Museum (Cairo, 1908) and Islamic Art Museum (Cairo, 1903). 2 Donald Malcolm Reid, Whose Pharaohs? Archaeology, Museums, and Egyptian National Identity from Napoleon to World War I (London: University of California Press, 2002), 1-7. 3 Reid, Whose Pharaohs?, 10, 118-119, 205. 4 David Dean, Museum Exhibition Theory and Practice (London: Routledge, 1998), 1- 2,7. 5 Timothy Mitchell, Rule of Experts Egypt, Techno-Politics, Modernity (California: University of California, 2002), 13. Returned to the People: The Transformation of Egyptian Royal Palaces into Museums 130 Actually, the revolution marked an important episode in the history of Egypt as it announced the arrival of a completely new era. The royal palaces were an essential link in the chain of Egypt’s history as representatives of the most recent Egyptian kingdom. Their appropriation also functioned as powerful symbols of the new era that had started. Next to the already existing museums, the palaces represented the last phase of Egypt’s history. The important symbolic function of the palaces is reflected in the involvement of the highest politicians in the opening ceremonies. The first Egyptian president, Muḥammad Naguib (1952 - 1954) visited these royal palaces accompanied by army officers and his visit was recorded by journalists.6 From Palaces to Museums The new regime considered the royal palaces symbols of the ancient regime that was replaced. These palaces contained valuable artistic objects. To have a better idea of the palaces under discussion, here is a short description of them, their history and the most important artifacts that they contain in addition to their historical and cultural value. Three Palaces Most of the royal and elite palaces have been neglected or converted for use by public administration offices7 since their appropriation by the state, but the three palaces studied here were opened as historical museums because of their architectural and artistic value. They are of different types: one is a royal palace, ‘Abdīn Palace, the second is a king’s rest house, Farouq Rest House at Helwan, and the third is a crown-prince’s palace, Manyal Palace. These palaces form an important part of the Egyptian national heritage. Since museums are considered the most comprehensive and most appropriate institution for ensuring the safekeeping of ethnological heritage8, their management is not limited to transmitting and receiving them. As a heritage, they should be preserved and, even more importantly, enriched.9 -‘Abdīn Palace ‘Abdīn Palace10 symbolizes the beginning of modern Cairo, as it was built to give Cairo a European style layout.11 It is considered the most beautiful of the palaces of the dynasty of Muḥammad ʿAlī.12 It is the only one of the 30 lavish palaces that Ismail built during his reign that he kept for himself.13 It was also his favorite place for winter receptions because its location was close to the large hotels at Azbakiyya.14 Although the palace is the smallest in size, it became the most important one from a political perspective.15 It is connected with several important historical events, such as the ʿUrābī revolution16, the 1919 revolution, the 6 “Mʿ al-raʾīs Muḥammad Nagib fī Qaṣr Raʾs al-Tīn”, Al-Muṣwir, Sep. 26, 1952 http://modernegypt.bibalex.org/DocumentViewer/TextViewer. aspx?w=1258&h=598&type=press&id=3248&s=1, accessed on December 3, 2012, 1:40 am. 7 It is also worth mentioning here that archaeologists nowadays are against using these marvelous buildings for administration offices of the presidency or any kind of activity of daily life that may affect the building. They support the idea of opening them to the public as museums because of their historical and artistic value. (Tawfīq, ‹Kunwz ʾtharīa w miʻmārīa’, 3.) 8 Alpha Oumar Konaré, ‹Museums and Ethnological Heritage›, (paper presented in Proceedings of the 12th General Conference and 13th General Assembly of the International Council of Museums, Mexico City, October 25- November 4, 1980), 65-67. 9 Pedro Ramírez Vázquez, ‹The Future of Heritage and the Heritage of the Future›, (paper presented in Proceedings of the 12th General Conference and 13th General Assembly of the International Council of Museums, Mexico City, October 25- November 4, 1980), 48-54. 10 The palace is also known under many other names: «Jawhart al-Quṣwr» the jewel of palaces, «al-Jana al-Mafqwda» the lost paradise, and «Manārat al- Quṣwr al-Malakya» the beacon of the royal palaces. 11 ‹Abdine Palace Museums. 12 Tawfīq, ‹Kunwz ʾtharīa w miʻmārīa›, 3. 13 Rāfiʻī , ʻAṣr Ismāʻīl, vol. II, 55. ; Maḥmūd ʿabās Āḥmad ʿAbd el-Raḥman, Al-Quṣūr al-Malakia fī Miṣr Tārīkh w Ḥaḍara (1805-1952) (Cairo: Al-Dār Al- ʿālamīa lil Nashr w al-Tawziʿ, 2005), 83. 14 Edwin De Leon, The Khedives’s Egypt (London: Sampson Low, 1877), 174-175. 15 Mahmoud El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces in Egypt From Mohamed Aly to Farouk (Cairo: Dar Al-Maaref, 1954), 16. 16 For further reading about ʿUrābī and ‘Abdīn palace see: Mary Rowlatt, Founders of Modern Egypt (London: Asia Publishing House, 1962), 53-58, 145- 156. Hanan Ismail 131 events of 4th of February 1942 and the 1952 revolution.17 It took its name from ‘Abdīn Bey18, its original owner.19 Its construction in 1863 cost over half a million pounds20, in addition to the furniture which was estimated at 2 million pounds.21 The royal court moved from the citadel to ‘Abdīn in 1874.22 Since this date, the palace became the official dwelling of all the subsequent rulers of Egypt.23 Later, it became called the Republican ‘Abdīn Palace, the state headquarters of the president of the Arab Republic of Egypt.24 All the successors of Ismail added certain elements to the palace.25 Nāṣir used it as an official residence, while Sādāt used part of the palace only.26 On 22 January 1972, it became the presidential palace. All presidential councilors’ offices, secretaries, trustees and honors records were transferred to ‘Abdīn Palace.27 The Italian architect De Curel Del Rosso was assigned to design the palace.28 A large number of Egyptians, Italians, French and Turkish were employed in its construction.29 The palace consists of two floors. The main entrance is located in the northern façade.30 The architectural style of the palace follows the Neo-French-Renaissance Style.31 The interior decorations combine diverse styles.32 In contrast, the corridors between the rooms are kept plain.33 Many of the rooms were reserved for members of the royal family such as the Queen’s mother, or for other privileged members of the household, such as the English tailor “Mr. Laurence”. Some of the spaces stand out through their decoration or function. The Suez Canal Salon, where the celebration of the inauguration of the Suez Canal took place, is an example. On the same floor, there is the billiards room, which was presented by Empress Eugénie to khedive Ismail, as well as the small dining room and the king’s study.34 The palace contains also a theater, which is considered to be more splendid than the Khedival Opera House.35 The palace library,36 constructed by Khedive Ismail, contains a valuable book collection. It was accessible only to a privileged minority. There is also another separate building in the ‘Abdīn palace for keeping the historical documents (archives) of particular interest to the royal family.37 It also had a dental and a medical clinic, a delivery room and a pharmacy.38 It is also one of the richest in the world regarding the number of clocks scattered in the lobbies and suites. Some remarkable objects include the green telephone apparatus in the King’s quarters which connected the king with the members of his cabinet through a special internal network.39 The palace also housed governmental and private ironing firms, an engineering workshop and a 17 In Septmber 9, 1881, ʿUrābī delivered the demands of the Egyptian people and the army to Khedive Tawfīq in front of ‘Abdīn palace. Then, when the British in March 1919 arrested Zaghlul and two other movement leaders and exiled them to Malta, the Egyptian people gathered in ‘Abdīn square asking to release the Egyptian leaders. Later, on February 4, 1942, the British ambassador insisted on the appointment of Muṣṭafa al-Naḥas as prime minister or the abdication of king Farouq and tanks advance towards‘Abdīn palace. Then, in 1952, the revolution, put an end for monarchy in Egypt and established the republic. The palace also witnessed March crisis between Nāṣir and Muḥammad Nagib in 1954. 18 ‘Abdīn Bey was one of the Turkish officers. 19 Tawfīq, ‹Kunwz ʾtharīa w miʻmārīa›, 3. 20ʿAlī Bāšā Mubārak, al-Ḵiṭaṭ al-Tawfīqiyya al-ǧadīda li-Miṣr al-Qāhira wa-mudunuhā wa-bilāduhā al-qadīma wa-alshahīra, vol. I. Tārīkh al-Qāhira wa Miṣr munzu al-ʿasr al- Fāṭimī ḥata ʿasr Tawfīq. 2nd. ed. (Cairo: al-Haīʼa al-Maṣrīa al-ʿāma lil Kitāb, 1994), 213. 21 Ryāḍ Tawfīq, ‹Kunwz ʾtharīa w miʻmārīa ʾabdaʻtha ʾusrat Muḥammad ʿAly Bāsha .. al-Baḥth ʻn Qaṣr lil Riʾasa›, Al-Ahram 45742, March 2, 2012,3. 22 Tawfīq, ‹Kunwz ʾtharīa w miʻmārīa›, 3. 23 Emine Foat Tugay, Three Centuries Family Chronicles of Turke and Egypt (London: Oxford University Press, amen House, 1963), 130. 24 Tawfīq, ‘Kunwz ʾtharīa w miʻmārīa’, 3. 25 http://www.abdeenmus.gov.eg/abdeen_museums.asp, 26 Feb. 2012, 1:58 pm 26 Tawfīq, ‘Kunwz ʾtharīa w miʻmārīa’, 3. 27 “Qaṣr ‘Abdīn lil rīāsa w qaṣr al-qubba lil ḍīāfa”, Al-Ahram 31085, Jan. 19, 1972. 28 Nihal S. Tamarz, Nineteenth-Century Cairene Houses and Palaces (Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 1998), 32. 29 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 15. 30 http://modernegypt.bibalex.org/TxtViewer/TextViewer.aspx?ID=299&type=Article, July16, 2012, 2:38 am. 31 Tamarz, Cairene Houses and Palaces, 32; Najm, Quṣūr al-umarāʼ wa-al-bāshawāt, vol. II, 57-61. 32 The throne room was in generic Islamic style; the Suez Canal Salon in Classical European Style and the Byzantine Hall is clearly Byzantine with its figures and myths drawn on the wall. 33 Tamarz, Cairene Houses and Palaces, 32. 34 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 19-20. 35 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 20-22. 36 Later called «the Royal Cabinet Library». 37 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 48-52. 38 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 34-38 39 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 22-23, 26-28. Returned to the People: The Transformation of Egyptian Royal Palaces into Museums 132 studio for photography.40 King Fwʾād dedicated some of the halls of the palace to be used as museums of family weapons and medals.41 King Farouq completed the museum and added different kinds of weapons42, and an annexed library specialized in this field.43 In 1936, the contents of the military museum were registered in printed books. Another museum, a silver work museum, which exhibits all the necessaries for festivals, is the most interesting on the ground floor. A workshop is annexed to the museum for mending these silver objects and testing gold by an old goldsmith, who did that work without payment. The third museum is the private military weapons museum; it holds a group of monumental guns which were used in certain battles such as Abu Qir and Alexandria, in addition to some weapons that were used in the Western Desert battles during World War II.44 During the reign of King Fwʾād and Farouq, the museums of the palace were open only to the royal family.45 In 1953 the ḥaramlyk of the palace46 was turned into a museum and opened to visitors.47 The administration of the museum of ‘Abdīn was transferred to the museums administration in the Citadel. Then, it returned to the presidency under Sādāt, who ordered the renovation and restoration of the palace and the museum.48 Under the presidency of Mubārk, the palace was restored using the most up-to-date architectural methods. Part of the palace has been turned into a complex of museums for the exhibition of rare collections of weapons and artifacts. The Military Museum has been rearranged and the exhibition of the objects modernized. A hall displaying the various weapons presented to Mubārk has been added as well. Two additional specialized museums have been created. One of them displays the gifts received by Mubārk on various national occasions or during his worldwide tours. The other one is for Muḥammad ʿAlī’s possessions of silver utensils and vessels, crystals, and colored glass, as well as other unique artifacts.49 The complex was given the new name of the Museums of ‘Abdīn Palace. Mubārk reopened it on October 17, 1998. Then on December 16, 2004, the Museum of Historical Documents was added to the museums of the palace.50 The palace now contains: the military museum of ‘Abdīn palace, the museum of silverware, the museum of historical documents and the museum of medals and decorations.51 This is in addition to the Royal Hunting Hall and the Presidency Gifts Museum. Now two printed catalogues of the museum “’Abdine Palace Museums” and “A Selection of the Displayed Collection at the Crystal, Chinaware and Gallé Museum” and one pamphlet “Selections of Abdeen Palace Museums” are available. - Farouq Rest House The rest house of King Farouq, known as Helwan Corner or Farouq Corner, lies on the road from Cairo to Helwan, some six kilometers from Helwan, overlooking the Nile. It was constructed on a piece of land belonging to the royal endowments (waqfs) and covers 11,600 m2.52 The palace was erected on an area of 440 m2, while the garden, which was planted with rare plants and enclosed with a stone wall, occupied the rest of the area.53 The rest house of King Farouq in Helwan was bought with the money of the royal endowments (waqfs) in 1939 at the price of L.E. 2.000 and was furnished with antiques with an estimated value of L.E. 28.000.54 The house has a modern three-floor design. The ground floor contains servants’ rooms, the kitchen, service sets, warehouses, lavatories and a terrace. It is directly 40 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 22-23, 26-28, 47. 41 Tawfīq, ‘Kunwz ʾtharīa w miʻmārīa’, 3. 42 For further reading about the holdings of the museums see the catalogues: ‘Abdine Palace Museums and A Selection of the Displayed Collection at the Crystal, Chinaware and Gallé Museum. 43 http://www.abdeenmus.gov.eg/abdeen_museums.asp, Feb. 26, 2012, 1:58 pm 44 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 41-42, 54-57. 45 “Qwāt al-jaīsh tuḥaṣir al-quṣwr al-malakīa fī Raʾs al-Tīn w al- Muntazah w ‘Abdīn w al-qubba”, Al-Ahram 23999, July 27, 1952, 4. 46 The part that was open to the public included the reception wing, with its waiting rooms, a banquet hall, a salon for princesses and a salon for princes. In addition to this wing, there are also the Ismail Salon, the portrait gallery and the Red Hall. Moreover, the King’s Wing, the Queen’s Wing, the Queen Mother’s Wing, the Princesses’ Wing, The Belgian (Guest) Wing and the Byzantine Hall are as well open to the public. 47 “Abdin Palace Museum”, Egypt Travel Magazine 90, February, 1962, 38-39. 48 http://www.abdeenmus.gov.eg/abdeen_museums.asp, Feb. 26, 2012, 1:58 pm 49 ‘Abdine Palace Museums. 50 http://www.abdeenmus.gov.eg/abdeen_museums.asp, Feb. 26, 2012, 1:58 pm 51 Selections of Abdeen Palace Museums, 6, 28, 42, 58. 52 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 119. 53 http://www.faroukmisr.net/report103.htm, August 3, 2012, 00:05 am. 54 Mahmoud El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces in Egypt From Mohamed Aly to Farouk (Cairo: Dar Al-Maaref, 1954), 119, 34-37. Hanan Ismail 133 connected to the first floor.55 The first floor is the main one. A marble staircase leads to the outer lobby, which leads to the inner one, beyond which are two dining rooms and smoking areas overlooking the Nile.56 Also on this floor are the entrance hall, the grand saloon, bedrooms with annexes and a marble staircase leading to the roof. There is also a veranda with a pergola overlooking the Nile. In the dining room stands a pure crystal table, and glass cabinets containing a large collection of silver and Chinese vessels and vases. There are two bedrooms, each of which has a complete bathroom, a hall and a toilet and opens onto a marble-floored veranda.57 The second floor is the roof, reached by a marble staircase and used by the king for private evenings.58 The furniture is a selection taken from other palaces. It contains many antiques that were presented to the king on various occasions, with a value estimated at approximately L.E. 28,000.59 Although Farouq furnished it as befits kings and rulers, he visited it only twice during his reign.60 After the 1952 revolution, it continued to function as a rest house and was regarded as the property of the people.61 During the 1960s, the rest house was open to the public for P.T. 4, and its garden was open free.62 In 1976, it was placed under the supervision of the museums sector in the Supreme Council of Antiquities and designated as a monument.63 On July 13, 2009, the museum was open after restoration work which cost 1.5 million pounds and lasted for 6 months. All elements of the museum, including the main building, the garden, the stone corridors and the private laboratory, were renovated. This opening ceremony coincided with the Egyptian celebrations of International Museum Day.64 Like most Egyptian museums, the rest house has been closed for security reasons after the revolution of January 25, 2011. Thus, after being closed for 23 years for restoration, it was open for only a year, which was not enough to make people aware of the museum or to publish catalogues of its contents.65 Then on August 2, 2016 the museum was reopened by the Minister of Antiquities and Minister of Tourism. The Minister of Antiquities announced then that the rest house will be included in Hapi Nile cruise with the Egyptian Museum, Manyal Palace and Palace of Manasterly.66 - Manyal Palace Manyal palace is unique among the princes’ palaces of the dynasty of Muḥammad ʿAlī. Prince Muḥammad ʿAlī designed the plans and decorations of the palace and supervised the construction. It is located on the north of Ālrawḍa Island, facing the Cairo University Faculty of Medicine. It was built in 1901. The complex occupies an area of 61,711 m2, of which 5000 m2 is buildings, while the rest is the garden.67 The buildings manifest a unique style composed of Persian, Syrian, Moorish, Ottoman and rococo elements. Its fabulously eclectic architecture reflects its owner’s taste.68 The complex consists of an enclosure wall69, entrance, reception sarāyā 55 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 119- 120. 56 http://www.faroukmisr.net/report103.htm, August 3, 2012, 00:05 am. 57 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 119-120. 58 http://www.faroukmisr.net/report103.htm, August 3, 2012, 00:05 am. 59 El-Gawhary, Ex-Royal Palaces, 119. 60 http://www.faroukmisr.net/report103.htm, August 3, 2012, 00:05 am. 61 http://www.faroukmisr.net/report103.htm, August 3, 2012, 00:05 am. 62 Egypt Travel Magazine 70, June 1960, 3. 63 http://www.faroukmisr.net/report103.htm, August 3, 2012, 00:05 am. 64 “Aiftitaḥ rukn al-malik Farouq biḥilwān”, published in Ākhbar miṣr July 13, 2009 http://www.masress.com/egynews/71987, December 3, 2012, 3:03 am. 65 Phone call to the deputy of the museum of Farouq rest house, Azaa Muhammed Badawy, Dec. 4, 2012, 12:00 pm. 66 Heba Adil, Bialṣwar .. Iftitāḥ matḥaf rukn Farouq fi Ḥilwan baʿd 5 ʾāʿwām min Iġlāqih, Al Ahram Al Arabi, 2-8-2016, 13:11. http://arabi.ahram.org. eg/News/88708.aspx accessed on 24 March 2018, 2:53 pm. 67 ʻĀṭif Ghunaym, Qaṣr al-Amīr Muḥammad ʻAlī (Cairo: Wizārat al-Thaqāfah, al-Majlis al-ʾaʻla lil ʾathār), 9-10. 68 Dan Richardson, Egypt. The Rough Guide (London: Cox & Wyman, 1996), 155. 69 The enclosure wall is in medieval style, built of limestone coated with rectangular sandstone pieces. The northern side of the enclosure is lined with guarding balconies. Parts of this enclosure are inscribed with Quranic verses in raised Kufic script. Returned to the People: The Transformation of Egyptian Royal Palaces into Museums 134 (salāmlyk)70, clock tower, Sabil, mosque, hunting museum71, residence sarāyā72, throne sarāyā, private museum73, golden hall, mosque74 and a rare garden that surrounds the palace. The façade in general resembles the 4th century Iranian mosques and schools. Many Islamic styles are incorporated in the design of the main entrance of the palace.75 The palace furnishings and prince’s collections were given to the Egyptian Supreme Council of Antiquities in 1955,76 after the death of the owner in 1954.77 During the 1960s, the complex was open to the public.78 A change of time Once opened, the palace museums attracted a lot of visitors and researchers. The visitors had different motivations to visit and study. Curiosity about the life of the royals, so recently fallen from power, was one reason. Admiration of the design, decorations, furniture, and antiques and the royal family’s ambition of incorporating Egypt into European modernity and the globalized worldview that lay behind the bringing together of these items was another. The palaces were also monuments and symbols of the fall of the dictator. Another reason for many visitors to investigate the deserted homes was anger and resentment against the royal family’s choice of how to spend the country’s money. This concerned the royal family’s position and their expenditure of Egypt’s money on the embellishment of their palaces and their own well-being, instead of using this money for projects in education or providing work opportunities that would have benefited the Egyptian population directly.79 The monthly Egyptian Travel Magazine from 1959 to 1963 added these three palaces to its list of museums to be visited in Egypt, with details about opening hours and ticket prices. In addition, photos from the interior of these palaces (especially Manyal Palace) were published in its first paper.80 In 1961 at Manyal Palace, Tourist administration officials welcomed tourists and distributed free pamphlets to them. Visitors greatly enjoyed the palace at that time.81 The Golden Hall of the Manyal Palace was also chosen for an international exhibition of tourist posters that was held on September 1960.82 The palaces are not now commonly on the tourist itinerary, but they are still part of the cultural program of Egyptian school classes. During the end of the 1990s and the 2000s, great attention was paid in Egypt to monument conservation, and simultaneously there was a widespread growth in awareness among Egyptians of the importance of preserving their heritage for future generations.83 The Egyptian Culture Ministry paid great attention to the restoration of these former royal palaces. In 2008, the ministry conducted a project to develop 45 museums, 10 of which were historical museums in different towns in Egypt.84 The Egyptian government renovated these museums because most visitors of museums are looking for positive, meaningful 70 The salāmlyk is located over the entrance just inside the gateway and was reserved for the official guests. It consists of two floors linked by a wooden staircase. The first floor contains two rooms: one for the presentation of honors and the other for prayer. (http://www.faroukmisr.net/manial_palace.htm, August 3, 2012, 5:49 am., Shirley Johnston and Sherif Sonbol, Egyptian Palaces and Villas. Pashas, Khedives, and Kings (New York: Abrams, 2006), 119.) The second floor contains the Moroccan Hall and the Syrian Room, which was relocated piece by piece from Damascus. (Richardson, Rough Guide,155.) 71 Locates in a corridor adjacent to the northern enclosure overlooking the garden. The museum collects deer skulls and horns, a mummified reptile, butterflies, stuffed fowl, ibex heads and a vulture’s claw candlestick. (http://www.faroukmisr.net/manial_palace.htm, August 3, 2012, 5:49 am) 72 The prince’s residence is richly decorated in a mixture of Turkish and Occidental styles. (Richardson, Rough Guide, 155.) 73 A private museum locates on the southern side of the palace displays rare manuscripts, Qur’anic commentaries, wonderful inscribed plates, writing equipment, weapons, the rarest carpets of various styles, cups, vases, models of Turkish fashion for all classes, a collection of female belts, private belongings of the prince inlaid with diamonds, a range of gifts received by kings, a group of marble lion heads, metal pieces, and coffee and tea sets made of porcelain, all colored with floral decorations. (http://www.faroukmisr.net/manial_palace.htm, August 3, 2012, 5:49 am.) 74 In the center of this complex stands the mosque. Despite its small size, it is regarded as an unparalleled architectural and decorative masterpiece. The mosque is now open for Friday and feast day prayers. (ʿAbd el-Raḥman, Al-Quṣūr al-Malakia fī Miṣr, 153. ) 75 http://www.faroukmisr.net/manial_palace.htm, August 3, 2012, 5:49 am. 76 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manial_Palace_and_Museum, 27 July 2012, 5:08 am. 77 Ghunaym, Qaṣr al-Amīr Muḥammad ʻAlī, 9. 78 Egypt Travel Magazine 70 , June 1960, 3. 79 El-Gawhary, ‘Thawrat al-Taḥrīr’, 73-76. 80 Egypt Travel Magazine 67, March 1960. 81 «Tourist’ Comments”, Egypt Travel Magazine 80, April 1961, 46. 82 «International Exhibition of Tourist Posters», Egypt Travel Magazine 75, November 1960, 19. 83 Team work from the complex of Abdeen palace Museums, A Selection of the Displayed Collection at the Crystal, Chinaware and Gallé Museum, 10. 84 «Wizārat al-Thaqāfah tastakmil taṭwīr 45 mutḥafa”, published in Ākhbar miṣr May 11, 2008 http://www.masress.com/egynews/39479, December 3, 2012, 2:30 am. Hanan Ismail 135 experience in museums. If they failed to find that sort of atmosphere, they may not be back.85 The former Egyptian King Aḥmad Fwʾād was pleased that the Egyptian government conducted such a project to restore the palaces of his dynasty and open them as museums.86 Guide books for Egypt, such as the Blue Guide, Lonely Planet and the Rough Guide give careful attention to these palaces. The Lonely Planet guide for Egypt describes in detail how to reach ‘Abdīn Palace and Manyal Palace, which can be helpful to foreigners without tourist guides. In addition, it provides phone numbers and abstracts about the palaces. But the rest house of Farouq is not mentioned, as it was not open to the public in 2002.87 The Rough Guide also mentions ‘Abdīn palace and gives more detailed description of the Manyal Palace, its building, opening hours and the price of tickets. Again, Farouq rest house is not mentioned, as it was not open to the public in 1996.88 As for the Blue Guide, it gives abstracts about ‘Abdīn palace and Manyal Palace and the opening hours. As well as the two former guides, it does not mention Farouq rest house, as it was only opened to public in 2009.89 Museums in the palaces under study can attract three groups of visitors. The first group are casual visitors, who move through a gallery quickly and display exit-oriented behaviour. Those can enjoy the gardens of the palaces much more than the interior and the displayed pieces.90 Those could be school students or people in vacation. The second group are genuinely interested in the museum experience and the collections. However, they ordinarily do not spend much time reading, especially texts that appear difficult or require too much effort to understand. These visitors prefer a casual, headline approach to information display.91 This group could be university students specialized in art, tourism or architecture. Adults interested in art and architectures can fall also under this group. The third group, who are the minority, will examine exhibitions with much more attention. These people spend a long time in the galleries, read the text and labels, and examine the objects closely.92 This one is more for researchers and scientific people who really care about information. Palace museums under study can attract more visitors if they received more propaganda via different media and social media means. Organizing important events in those places can also help to promote visiting them. Communication and cooperation are also needed between those responsible in these museums and those responsible for the preparation of tourism programs to highlight the historical significance of these museums. Scientific materials suitable to their artistic and historical value should be provided to function as appropriate tourist propaganda. Conclusion After the 1952 revolution, the new regime made use of the royal palaces. The most magnificent ones were opened as historical museums representing the last phase of the Egyptian heritage before the outbreak of the revolution. The value of these palaces relates to its artistic and architectural value in addition to the political importance that they gained during the reign of the royal dynasty. Preserving these attractions is preserving an essential part of the Egyptian identity. Immediately after opening, they attracted visitors for different reasons. Then they became a tourist attraction. With the passage of time they lost their position in tourist programs. This could be due to the focusing of the media on the Egyptian Pharaonic civilization and neglecting the modern attractions, which did not receive enough care and propaganda. These palaces recently gained more attention from both the Ministry of Antiquities and Ministry of Tourism in addition to the efforts of the administration in these museums. They organize events in the halls of the museums commemorating the memory of the royal family and announce via social media to widely spread awareness of their activities. 85 Dean, Museum Exhibition, 25. 86 «Malik Miṣr al-sabiq Aḥmad Fouad saʿīd bitarmī quṣwr āusratuh», published in Al-Shirwq Al-Jadīd April 27, 2010. http://www.masress.com/shorouk/218788, December 3, 2012, 2:47am. 87 Andrew Humphreys and Siona Jenkis, Egypt. Walk in the Shadows of the Pharaohs (Victoria: Lonely Planet, 2002), 170, 176 88 Richardson, Rough Guide, 98, 155. 89 Veronica Seton-Williams and Peter Stocks, Blue Guide Egypt. Atlas, Street atlas of Cairo, maps, plans, and illustrations (London: A & C Black, 1988), 210, 214 90 Dean, Museum Exhibition, 25-26. 91 Dean, Museum Exhibition, 25-26. 92 Dean, Museum Exhibition, 25-26. Returned to the People: The Transformation of Egyptian Royal Palaces into Museums 136 Bibliography · Dean, David. Museum Exhibition Theory and Practice, 3rd ed.. London: Routledge, 1998. · De Leon, Edwin. The Khedives’s Egypt. London: Sampson Low,1877. · El-Gawhary, Mahmoud. Ex-Royal Palaces in Egypt From Mohamed Aly to Farouk. Cairo: Dar Al-Maaref, 1954. · ʿabd al-Raḥman, Maḥmūd ʿabās Āḥmad. Al-Quṣūr al-Malakia fī Miṣr Tārīkh w Ḥaḍara (1805-1952). Cairo: Al-Dār Al-ʿālamīa lil Nashr w al-Tawziʿ, 2005. · Humphreys, Andrew and Siona Jenkis, Egypt. Walk in the Shadows of the Pharaohs, 6th ed.. Victoria: Lonely Planet, 2002. · Johnston, Shirley and Sherif Sonbol, Egyptian Palaces and Villas. Pashas, Khedives, and Kings. New York: Abrams, 2006. · Mitchell, Timothy. Rule of Experts Egypt, Techno-Politics, Modernity. California: University of California, 2002. · Mubārak, ʿAlī Bāšā. al-Ḵiṭaṭ al-Tawfīqiyya al-ǧadīda li-Miṣr al-Qāhira wa-mudunuhā wa-bilāduhā al-qadīma wa- alshahīra, vol. I. Tārīkh al-Qāhira wa Miṣr munzu al-ʿasr al- Fāṭimī ḥata ʿasr Tawfīq. 2nd. ed. Cairo: al-Haīʼa al-Maṣrīa al-ʿāma lil Kitāb, 1994. · Najm, ̔abd al-Munsif Sālim. Quṣūr al-umarāʼ wa-al-bāshawāt fī madīnat al-Qāhirah fī al-qarn al-tāsiʻ ʻashar, vol. II. Cairo: Maktabat Zahrāʾ al-Sharq, 2002. · Rāfiʻī, ʻAbd al-Raḥmān. ʻAṣr Ismāʻīl, vol. II. 4th ed.. Cairo: Dār al-Maʻārif. · Reid, Donald Malcolm. Whose Pharaohs? Archaeology, Museums, and Egyptian National Identity from Napoleon to World War I. London: University of California Press, 2002. · Richardson, Dan. Egypt. The Rough Guide, 3rd ed.. London : Cox & Wyman, 1996. · Rowlatt, Mary. Founders of Modern Egypt. London: Asia Publishing House, 1962. · Seton-Williams, Veronica and Peter Stocks, Blue Guide Egypt. Atlas, Street atlas of Cairo, maps, plans, and illustrations, 2nd ed.. London: A & C Black, 1988. · Tamarz, Nihal S.. Nineteenth-Century Cairene Houses and Palaces. Cairo: The American University in Cairo Press, 1998. · Tugay, Emine Foat. Three Centuries Family Chronicles of Turke and Egypt. London: Oxford University Press, amen House , 1963. * Catalogues: · ‘Abdine Palace Museums. · Ghunaym, ʻĀṭif. Qaṣr al-Amīr Muḥammad ʻAlī. Cairo: Wizārat al-Thaqāfah, al-Majlis al-ʾaʻla lil ʾathār. · Team work from the complex of Abdeen palace Museums. A Selection of the Displayed Collection at the Crystal, Chinaware and Gallé Museum. Cairo: Presidency Abdeen Palace Museums. · Selections of Abdeen Palace Museums. * Conferences: · Konaré, Alpha Oumar. “Museums and Ethnological Heritage,” Proceedings of the 12th General Conference and 13th General Assembly of the International Council of Museums (Mexico City: 25 October-4 November 1980): 65-67. · Vázquez, Pedro Ramírez. “The Future of Heritage and the Heritage of the Future,” Proceedings of the 12th General Conference and 13th General Assembly of the International Council of Museums (Mexico City: 25 October-4 November 1980), 48-54. * Periodicals: · El-Gawhary, Mahmoud, “Thawrat al-Taḥrīr fī al-Quṣwr al-Malakīa”, Al-Hilal 61 part 7 (July 1953), 73-76. · Pretes, Michael. “Tourism and Nationalism”, Annals of Tourism Research vol. 30, no. 1 (2003), 125-126. Hanan Ismail 137 * Magazines: · Egypt Travel Magazine 70 (June 196o): 3. · “Abdin Palace Museum”, Egypt Travel Magazine 90 (February 1962): 38-41. · Egypt Travel Magazine 67 (Mars 1960). · “Tourist’ Comments”, Egypt Travel Magazine 80 (April 1961), 46. · “International Exhibition of Tourist Posters”, Egypt Travel Magazine 75 (November 1960), 19. * News Papers: · “Qwāt al-jaīsh tuḥaṣir al-quṣwr al-malakīa fī Raʾs al-Tīn w al- Muntazah w ‘Abdīn w al-qubba”, Al-Ahram 23999, 27 July 1952. · “Qaṣr ‘Abdīn lil rīāsa w qaṣr al-qubba lil ḍīāfa”, Al-Ahram 31085, 19 Jan. 1972. · Tawfīq, Ryāḍ. «Kunwz ʾtharīa w miʻmārīa ʾabdaʻtha ʾusrat Muḥammad ʿAly Bāsha .. al-Baḥth ʻn Qaṣr lil Riʾasa», Al-Ahram 45742, 2 March 2012. * Websites: · http://modernegypt.bibalex.org/TxtViewer/TextViewer. aspx?ID=299&type=Article, 16 July 2012, 2:38 am. · http://www.abdeenmus.gov.eg/abdeen_museums.asp, 26 Feb. 2012, 1:58 pm · http://www.faroukmisr.net/report103.htm, 3 August 2012, 00:05 am. · http://www.faroukmisr.net/manial_palace.htm, 3 August 2012, 5:49 am. · http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Manial_Palace_and_Museum, 27 July 2012, 5:08 am. · “Aiftitaḥ rukn al-malik Farouq biḥilwān”, published in Ākhbar miṣr 13 July 2009. http://www. masress.com/egynews/71987, 3 December 2012, 3:03 am. · “Mʿ al-raʾīs Muḥammad Nagib fī Qaṣr Raʾs al-Tīn”, Al-Muṣwir, 26 Sep. 1952. http://modernegypt.bibalex.org/DocumentViewer/TextViewer. aspx?w=1258&h=598&type=press&id=3248&s=1, 3 December 2012, 1:40 am. · “Wizārat al-Thaqāfah tastakmil taṭwīr 45 mutḥafa”, published in Ākhbar miṣr 11 May 2008. http://www.masress.com/egynews/39479, 3 December 2012, 2:30 am. · “Malik Miṣr al-sabiq Aḥmad Fouad saʿīd bitarmī quṣwr āusratuh», published in Al-Shirwq Al- Jadīd 27 April 2010. http://www.masress.com/shorouk/218788, 3 December 2012, 2:47am. · Heba Adil, Bialṣwar .. Iftitāḥ matḥaf rukn Farouq fi Ḥilwan baʿd 5 ʾāʿwām min Iġlāqih, Al Ahram Al Arabi, 2-8-2016, 13:11. http://arabi.ahram.org.eg/News/88708.aspx accessed on 24 March 2018, 2:53 pm. Returned to the People: The Transformation of Egyptian Royal Palaces into Museums 
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work_znchtiwa7nhprhwzxnr2qgtqvq	----	Microsoft Word - AJN340BF Early Conceptualization of the Kidney and Metabolism Am J Nephrol 1997;17:340-346 Depictions of the Kidney through the Ages M.L. Mabel L. Purkerson L. Lilla Wechsler Renal Division, Department of Medicine, and The Bernard Becker Medical Library, Washington University School of Medicine, St. Louis, Mo., USA Key Words History of nephrology Kidney Anatomical illustrations Early modern medicine (Europe) Abstract Recent publications [American Journal of Nephrology (1985-1995)] have contributed much to our understanding of the history of nephrology. Whether the earliest medical knowledge of the kidney was kindled in Egypt, by the Hindus in India, in ancient China, or by Assyro-Babylonians we cannot determine with certainty. What is known is that the invention of the printing press (circa 1450 AD), with the subsequent availability of translations of earlier writings plus new text editions, contributed in prodigious measure to the development of the critical and questioning character of medicine. The availability of different book illustration techniques also contributed to the development of medical knowledge. We have examined major descriptions of the kidney in 16th-, 17th- and 18th-century original works, all held by the Becker Medical Library, Washington University. The accuracy of illustrations of the observed kidney was highly variable, but each description has its place in book and ‘kidney’ history. Mabel L. Purkerson, Box 8132, Washington University School of Medicine, 660 South Euclid Avenue, St. Louis, MO 63110- 1093 (USA), Tel. +1-314-362-4234, Fax +1-314 362-6839 Although this work will focus on the kidney, it seems only appropriate to initially make some mention of the final product of the kidney, urine. Homer W. Smith began his writing of De Urina, the history of the study of urine and its contribution to medical science and philosophy, with a delightful quotation from Isak Dinesen’s Seven Gothic Tales. One of her characters speculates, ‘What is man, when you come to think upon him, but a minutely set, ingenious machine for turning, with infinite artfulness, the red wine of Shiraz into urine?’ [1]. In his lecture, Smith then developed the importance of urine in the history of medicine, citing the significance of urine examination to discoveries in chemistry, physiology and to healing. He concluded that in large measure man is what he is because his urine is what it is. Physicians have collected, examined and recorded their findings related to urine since antiquity; however, recognition of the importance of the kidney is itself a relatively recent event, and ancient depictions of this organ are scarce. Whether this was due to the fact that kidneys were not visualized because of their retroperitoneal location, or whether they were regarded as less important organs than the liver, heart, lungs and intestines (which were recognized by the ancients as suitable organs from sacrificed animals to be offered as gifts to the various deities), we do not know. The existence of kidneys certainly was known, for they would have been seen in slaughtered animals, and names for urine and kidney appear in Sumerian writings (3500-3000 BC) [2]. Votive offerings found at archeological excavations of the ancient Greek and Roman civilizations provide us with some of the earliest representations of the kidney. These articles, in clay, stone, marble or precious metals, depict parts of the body for which cures were sought or had been obtained. Though replicas of a number of organs and limbs (hearts, uteri, arms, legs) have been recovered with some regularity at these sites, such reproductions of the kidney are extremely rare. What is thought to be the oldest (13th century BC) votive offering of the kidney (fig. la) is a bronze figure found in the Kition temples in Cyprus [3]. Another is a circa 3rd- century BC terra-cotta figure of a kidney (fig. lb) found at Capua on the ancient Appian Way [4]. The present study will address 16th-, 17th- and 18th-centu-ry depictions of the kidney. Most of these illustrations are obtained from original rare books available in the Bernard Becker Medical Library of Washington University. We will discuss classic giants of nephrology and anatomy as well as lesser-known authors. KAÏVGEH E-Mail karger@karger.ch Fax + 4161 306 12 34 http://www. karger. ch © 1997 S. KargerAG, Basel 0250-8095/97/0174-0340$ 12.00/0 E-Mail purkerm@msnotes.wustl.edu 1 2 Fig. 1. a, b Votive figures of a kidney, a A 13th-century BC bronze, found at Kition in Cyprus [reproduced with permission from ref. 3]. b Roman terra-cotta, found at Capua on the Appian Way [reproduced with permission from ref. 4]. Fig. 2. Vesalius’ depiction of the human kidney in his Fabrica (p. 372) showing the right kidney positioned higher than the left [reproduced from ref. 5]. Illustrated manuscripts were certainly known, and circulated to a limited extent, in the medieval civilized world. However, it was the printing press (circa 1450) and the introduction of movable type which fostered the rapid growth of all genres of literature. Initially, woodblocks were used to produce illustrations, while by the late 16th century, copper engravings were introduced into book illustration. Along with the development of surgery in the medieval and Renaissance periods, there was the necessity to improve the status of human anatomy. Medical illustrations were usually done by artists, who perhaps knew human bones and muscles even better than did physicians. Some recognized that better anatomical knowledge plus more accurate and precise anatomical illustration would benefit would-be painters as well as students of medicine. The 16th Century Andreas Vesalius (1514-1564) from Brussels established the science of modern anatomy. Firsthand knowledge gained through dissection of the human body caused him to proclaim that the traditionally accepted anatomy of that time was not human anatomy. With publication of his De Humani Corporis Fabrica (1543) [5], Vesalius overthrew Galenic tradition. Despite his monumental contributions to anatomy, Vesalius gives depiction of the human kidney short shrift in some parts of his Fabrica. In book V, figure 22, the human kidney (fig. 2) is incorrectly shown higher on the right than the left. In the Galenic tradition, it had been theorized that a ‘sieve arrangement’ existed (fig. 3a) for straining urine in the kidney. Blood entered E) Vt^Å B V-S prtcfiπtiítií figurii xtcditoTUm de urind ria > L·ú < mc co»immiimcxprimc-Ti cυπ‚auifum ‚ λc fuptriari fiςuiiíTtΛi-m ul ipfiuígiiéo urrfuijmum c·tuum’ ucdißtέluiií firm ‚ injrΥiori Λiiiemitmsduntax < tt mcáiΛiþt¿IatUTparuo. C < fmiuu amáfingulk mãiccsuT ‚ ipjr cbitdélrtum 1 πdcxm have motlujHcdυce¿tc. l^Γ i’ma (jrancrU ftyufumfinguimsntπiαffrrnites. li, ß ¿imiiS‚in qucm mciliti uetidmrj drrirÌΛJΛ itui > crdi&titfcτo fwn f·iiiζ·utπcm pyofintdertdoceist. C, C} < S/∏ií⅞ ‚itt Qiicïnuytnii txí‚ividitfioßiíUcoîαTetwr. JD i^.eniilul’jlii’ttij. oríiαiUtimftnus h¤S αmpie¿iens. ü HïdtiiïR f T niti > > i < .tjsÌTmim itnti cυljtυτιum, feu membráMΛ cyi l·rijrtϋdoprjuiiï‚ζ¿T urmjmtxf’mu H xndt-iΛiϋinjinuin Cin fijiittiimtín¿ íumnticpritmár‚·íΥelinens. i: ↓’ nn¿mèταte ddtu-jít¿mdtjtTcni tnejíus. TERΠA. PRIM A. SECVND A. Fig. 3. Some illustrations of the kidney from Vesalius’ Fαbricα: the Galenic concept of the sieve arrangement (a) and Vesalius’ dog kidney dissections (b) [reproduced from ref. 5, p. 515 and p. 371, respectively]. the upper portion of the kidney, was filtered by a sieve, and urine left by the ureter from the lower portion of the kidney (book V, chapter 10). Vesalius dissected a dog kidney (book V, fig. 21) and depicted his observations in three drawings (fig. 3b). His observations of the real kidney enabled him to refute the long-held sieve idea. Charles Estienne (1503-1564), Depictions of the Kidney AmJNephrol 1997;17:340-346 341 Fig. 4. Woodcut illustration from Estienne’s De Dissectione (p. 303). Note the inserted part of the woodblock (arrows) in this posed female figure [reproduced from ref. 6]. Fig. 5. Eustachio’s depiction of a cut section of the kidney from his Tabulae (plate 5) reveals the renal pelvis and the calyceal system (top) as well as the arrangement of the renal vasculature and calyceal system (bottom). Note his use of coordinates framing the illustration [reproduced from ref. 12]. the son of a well-known French printing family, prepared what is regarded as the most fully illustrated ‘state-of-the art’ pre-Vesalian anatomical books. Published in 1545, it was entitled De Dissectione Partium Corporis Humani [6]. Estienne’s De Dissectione is probably the most controversial anatomical atlas ever published. Among several various opinions, the Norman catalog describes it as ‘one of the finest woodcut books of the French Renaissance’ [7], whereas Charles Singer calls it the ‘ugliest anatomical work we know’ [8]. The illustrations of books two and three attracted attention, due to the obvious insertions of separately cut pieces in several woodblocks. This could suggest that the main blocks originally were intended for another purpose. In fact, a link has been established between Estienne’s figures, some pictured in luscious poses, and a series of erotic prints entitled Loves of the Gods [7]. A drier explanation is that the reason for the insertions was to correct mistakes in his work, perhaps based on what he saw in Vesalius Fabrica, which was published a short while before Estienne completed his anatomy [9]. The illustration in figure 4 depicts the location of the right kidney incorrectly, higher than the left. The kidney size is inappropriately small in comparison to the exaggerated depiction of the internal genitalia in this female figure. Bartolomeo Eustachio (1524-1574) was an anatomy professor at Collegia della Sapienza in Rome. He completed and personally had executed 47 drawings for copperplate engravings in 1552. These were intended to illustrate a book, De Dissensioni-bus ac Contraversiis Anatomicis. This book was never published. Twelve years after he completed the drawings, he used 7 of the 47 plates to illustrate his first anatomical work, Opuscula Anatomica (1564). This exquisite work had 147 pages devoted to the kidney. This was the first time copper was used for anatomical plates. Though Eustachio had described his observations of the kidney, the work was not circulated and this material, along with the remaining 40 unpublished plates, was inherited by a friend and fellow artist, Pier Matteo Pini, upon Eustachio’s death. Eventually, these copper plates found their way to the papal library in Rome but remained in obscurity for 162 years. They were rediscovered only in the early 18th century [10], and were published in 1714 with marginal notes and a text edited by Giovanni Maria Lancisi [ref. 11, p. 221]. Lancisi extended to Eustachio full credit in the book entitled Tabulae Anatomícae Bartholomaei Eustachi [12]. Thus, Eustachio’s genius became known to the world only 162 years after he had produced the copper plate illustrations. Eustachio’s contributions concerning the kidney are several: he was the first to describe the adrenal glands, he noted correctly that the right kidney is lower than the left, he clearly and accurately illustrated the intrarenal vasculature, he was the first to describe the renal calyceal system and its relation to the renal papillae, and his correct description of the renal collecting ducts (‘certain furrows and small canals’) [ref. 16, p. 19] antedated Bellini’s observation by 150 years. Eustachio surmised that these tiny structures had a purpose in moving urine from the kidney to the renal pelvis. Figure 5, like all from the Tabulae, is framed with coordinates because Eustachio felt quite strongly about letters being placed on his artwork. 342 AmJNephrol 1997;17:340-346 Purkerson/Wechsler Fig. 7. Ruysch’s depictions of convoluted tubules on the surface of the kidney (left) and renal calyces and papillae in cut section (right) [reproduced from ref. 14]. JR⅛ s- Fig. 6. Fetal skeletons, organ and tissue preparations of plate 1 of Ruysch’s Thesaurus Anatomicum [reproduced from ref. 13]. Fig. 8. The ducts of Bellini in his Exercitation fig. 5 [reproduced from ref. 15]. The 17th Century Frederik Ruysch (1638-1731) was a Dutch anatomist from Amsterdam. He was a pupil of Jan Swammerdam from whom he learned the technique of injecting wax into anatomic specimens. Ruysch improved upon his teacher’s technique by using the microscope to control injections in very small structures. In addition, he injected dye substances into his specimens. Concerning his techniques he was said to be secretive. His innovations enabled him to perform detailed studies and to make observations that would not have been possible for his predecessors. His best known work, Thesaurus Anatomicum [13] contains his interesting, though sometimes bizarre, illustrations (fig. 6). A plate from Theatrum Anatomicum [14] shows Ruysch’s representation of the kidney (fig. 7). He was credited with the first illustration clearly demonstrating the major portion of the renal cortex to be composed of convoluted tubules. Ruysch was the first to recognize the capillary tuft of the kidney {Thesaurus Anatomicum Decimus. N. 85) He referred to them as ‘glandulae.’ Glomerulus Ruyschiana (renal glomerulus) bears his name. Lorenzo Bellini (1643-1704) was an Italian anatomist and physiologist. At 19, he published his best known work, Exerci-tatio Anatomica de Structura et Usu Renum [15]. He showed the kidney was not a solid organ but that it was composed of ducts (fig. 8), which received the name ducts of Bellini. He truly believed his to be the first description of these structures. Ten years after Bellini’s death, the long-lost observations of Eustachio were published by Lancisi (1714) and we now know that Eustachio, not Bellini, deserves credit for first describing the collecting tubules. Though Bellini did not give us a description of glomeruli in the kidney, he is recognized for suggesting that urine is separated from blood by a distinct anatomical arrangement [16]. Govard Bidloo (1649-1713), a Dutch anatomist from Amsterdam, prepared an atlas of anatomy with which he hoped he would be able to eclipse all prior atlases. This was to be based upon originality and merit of illustrations. The Anatomia Hu-mani Corporis [17] contains excellent drawings which are considered among the finest illustrations of the Baroque period (fig. 9). In 1698, Bidloo’s British contemporary, William Cow-per (1666-1709), published another book, The Anatomy of the Humane Bodies [18]. Cowper’s book was of the same proportions, contained the exact same 105 plates, in the exact same order as Bidloo’s volume. The only different prints were the portraits of the authors. In Cowper’s book, his portrait replaced that of Bidloo. The engraved title page (fig. 10) is the same in both editions except for the shield inscription. The text of this Depictions of the Kidney Am JNephrol 1997;17:340-346 343 Fig. 9. Plate 42 of Bidloo’s Anatomia depicting the kidneys and related structures [reproduced from ref. 17]. Fig. 10. Title page of Bidloo’s Anatomia (left) and Cowper’s Anatomy (right). The two illustrations are almost identical with the exception of the shield which bears the author’s name and the title [reproduced from ref. 19, pp. 114, 119]. book, written in English, was actually considered a big improvement over Bidloo. Critics implied that Cowper’s book supplied what Bidloo’s had lacked and that his accurate, well-executed text provided fuller descriptions of the original plates. The book was widely used for the next 50 years. In 1700, Bidloo lashed out at Cowper in a scathing communication which he sent to the Royal Society, wherein he referred to Cowper as ‘a literary highwayman’ [19]. Prior to anything known as copyright laws, this was regarded as one of the most famous instances of plagiarism in the entire history of medicine. As we noted earlier, the anatomic woodcut reached its peak in Vesalius’ Fabrica. Anatomic illustrations from copper plate engravings, for which the 17th century was noted, depict the accuracy, quality and degree of perfection that had been attained by the late 17th century [ref. 11, p. 250]. Figure 11 shows a kidney from Bidloo’s book (bottom) and the same plate (top) from Cowper. Careful examination allows us to detect the minute differences in labeling the parts of the illustrations. The 18th Century Fig. 11. Identical copperplate illustrations of plate 43, figures 3-4 from Cowper’s Anatomy (top) and Bidloo’s Anatomia (bottom) representing cross-sections of the kidney. Subtle differences in labeling are identified (arrows) [reproduced from ref. 17 and 181. Giovanni Battista Morgagni (1682-1771) came from Forli, Italy. At the age of 79, he produced his masterpiece entitled De Sedibus et Causis Morborum [20] {The Seats and Causes of Diseases translated by Benjamin Alexander in 1769 [21]; fig. 12). Morgagni wrote the work based on case studies. It consists of 344 AmJNephrol 1997;17:340-346 Purkerson/Wechsler Fig. 12. Title page of th 1769 English edition of Morgagni’s De sedibus [reproduced from ref. 21]. Fig. 13. Plate XXII of Cheselden’s The Anatomy of the Human Body [reproduced from ref. 22]. 12 THE SEATS and CAUSES O F DISEASES INVESTIGATED BY ANATOMY, IN FIVE BOOKS, CONTAINING A Great Variety of DISSECTIOMS, with Remarks. TO WHICH ARE ADDED Very AcccïtATE and Copious INDEXES of the F*iî)½⅛‰ T«is·Gs and Kames therein contained. Translates from tht Latis of JOHN BAPTIST MORGAGNI, Chief pr¢ > fcfl⅛Γ of Anatomy, and PrefuJent of che üniverfitji’ ⅛t Paboa, By BENJAMIN ALEXANDER, M. D. IN THREE VOLUMES. VOL. I. LONDON, Printed for A. Miliλ»i ar.J T. Cλdill, bis Succelïbr, in the Strand j and JojtNaoH and Pλynγ, in P·ter·βoβer Row. MDCCLXIX. 13 five books containing 70 letters which attempt to correlate signs and symptoms of disease with subsequent postmortem findings. His work represented the beginning of the science of pathology and provided the first satisfactory rational and extensive determination of the anatomic location of disease. Unfortunately, Morgagni did not provide illustrations for his 2,242-page work, and this is truly a case where a picture would have been worth a thousand words. In book III, Morgagni gave excellent descriptions of a number of renal disorders, some of which are listed in table 1. He used the term ‘urine suppression’ in some case discussions. In modern terminology we recognize that he was describing what is regarded as obstructive nephropathy. Some of the causes for obstructive uropathy which he noted are listed. In addition, his vivid description of anatomical material, correlated with clinical histories, allows us to offer plausible current-day identification for several renal abnormalities. William Cheselden (1688-1752), an extremely talented English surgeon-anatomist who became known initially for having described his surgical procedure for lithotomy and later for ophthalmologic surgery, had been a pupil of Cowper. During the preanesthetic period in which he worked, he was regarded as having the most rapid operating time of all surgeons (54 s) for bladder stones [ref. 11, p. 343]. Cheselden went to London and in 1711 began teaching anatomy from his home, a practice which was against the rules of the Company of Barber-Surgeons. After he became associated Table 1. Renal disorders mentioned by Giovanni Battista Morgagni in De Sedibus et Causis Morborum (1761) volume II, book III Suppression of urine (obstructive nephropathy) Calculi Etiology? Prostatic hypertrophy Worms Tumors Renal abnormalities Renal agenesis with contralateral compensatory hypertrophy Renal cysts Duplicated collecting system Vesicoureteral reflux Urethral valves Fetal lobulation of the kidney Prune belly as a surgeon with St. Thomas’ Hospital, his problems with them ceased. Chesleden’s The Anatomy of the Human Body [22] published in 1713 was a popular book that went through 14 printings in the 18th century. His atlas, Osteographia, or the Anatomy of the Bones, published in 1723 and illustrated by Van der Gucht is considered a classic. It is one of the first well-illustrated texts on comparative anatomy. His dissection (fig. 13) in the style of Vesalius, served as an example for several contemporary atlases. Depictions of the Kidney Am JNephrol 1997;17:340-346 345 Conclusion In summary, our presentation has bridged several centuries, showing examples from the most primitive depictions of the kidney (fig. 1) to the most sophisticated, artistically and anatomically perfect delineations (fig. 9). Each image reflected the medical knowledge of the age as well as some aspects of the culture in general. Thus, through the examination of this lesser-appreciated organ, we can open views on art, history, sociology and different representations of human thinking. In other words, to quote from Homer W. Smith, again: ‘Superficially, it might be said that the function of the kidneys is to make urine, but in a more considered view one can say that the kidneys make the stuff of philosophy itself [23]. References Smith HW: De Urina, in Chasis H, Goldring W (eds): Homer William Smith. New York, New York University Press, 1965, pp 127-147. Mujais SK, McConathy DA: The kidney in the graphic arts. Am J Nephrol 1985;5:375-377. Marketos SG: Hippocratic medicine and nephrolo-gy. Am J Nephrol 1994;14:264-269. Eknoyan G: Votive offerings of the kidney. Am J Nephrol 1995;15:453-454. Vesalius A: De Humani Corporis Fabrica. Basel, Oporinus, 1543. Estienne C: De Dissectione Partium Corporis Humani (La dissection des parties du corps humain). Paris, de Colines, 1546. Hook D, Norman J: The Haskell F. Norman Library of Science and Medicine. San Francisco, Norman, 1991, voll‚pp 260-261. Singer C, Rabin C: A Prelude to Modern Science. Cambridge, Cambridge University Press, 1946, p. XIX. Mayor AH: Artists and Anatomists. The Artist’s Limited Edition, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 1984, p. 94. 10 Herrlinger R: History of Medical Illustration - From Antiquity to 1600. Munich, Medicina Rara, 1970, p. 132. 11 Garrison FH: History of Medicine. Philadelphia, Saunders, 1929. 12 Eustachio B: Tabulae anatomicae Bartholomaei Eustachii. Amsterdam, Wetsten, 1722. Ruysch F: Thesaurus Anatomicum. Amsterdam, Wolter, 1701-1726. Manget JJ: Theatrum Anatomicum. Geneva, Cramer & Perachon, 1717. Bellini L: Exercitatio Anatomica de Structura et Usu Renum. Florence, Ex typographia sub signo stellae, 1662. Fine LG: Evolution of renal physiology from earliest times to William Bowman; in Gottschalk CW, Berliner RW, Giebisch GH (eds): Renal Physiology – People and Ideas. Baltimore, Williams & Wil-kins, 1987, pp 1-30. Bidloo G: Ontlending des Menschelyken Lichaam. Utrecht, van Poolsum, 1734. Cowper W: The Anatomy of the Humane Bodies. Leyden, Langerak, 1737. Beekman F: Bidloo and Cowper, anatomists. Ann Med Hist 1935;7:113-129. Morgagni GB: De Sedibus et Causis Morborum. Venice, 1761. Morgagni GB: The Seats and Causes of Diseases (Alexander B, trans). London, Millar, 1769. Cheselden W: The Anatomy of the Human Body. London, Hitch & Dodsley, 1756. Smith HW: From Fish to Philosopher. Summit, Ciba, 1959. 346 Am J Nephrol 1997;17:340-346 Purkerson/Wechsler 
work_t4q3lc5vqbcpha3cpg7sgd7zjq	----	06-549_00_FM.qxd The Conservatoire Américain A History Kendra Preston Leonard THE SCARECROW PRESS, INC. Lanham, Maryland • Toronto • Plymouth, UK 2007 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page i SCARECROW PRESS, INC. Published in the United States of America by Scarecrow Press, Inc. A wholly owned subsidiary of The Rowman & Littlefield Publishing Group, Inc. 4501 Forbes Boulevard, Suite 200, Lanham, Maryland 20706 www.scarecrowpress.com Estover Road Plymouth PL6 7PY United Kingdom Copyright © 2007 by Kendra Preston Leonard All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher. British Library Cataloguing in Publication Information Available Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data Leonard, Kendra Preston. The Conservatoire américain : a history / Kendra Preston Leonard. p. cm. Includes bibliographical references (p. ) and index. ISBN-13: 978-0-8108-5732-2 (pbk. : alk. paper) ISBN-10: 0-8108-5732-4 (pbk. : alk. paper) 1. Conservatoire américain—History. I. Title. MT5.F66C66 2007 780.71'14437—dc22 2006026100 �™ The paper used in this publication meets the minimum requirements of American National Standard for Information Sciences—Permanence of Paper for Printed Library Materials, ANSI/NISO Z39.48-1992. Manufactured in the United States of America. 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page ii To Karen and Winston Leonard, to Anita Wiegand, and to the memory of Lucia Ward 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page iii 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page iv � Contents Acknowledgments vii Introduction ix A Note on Bibliographic Abbreviations xv Prologue Francis Casadesus’s Manifesto and the Founding of the Conservatoire Américain (1918–1920) xvii Part I: The Institution without Precedent Chapter 1 The Institution without Precedent (1921–1928) 3 Chapter 2 The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) 19 Chapter 3 Interlude 1: Elizabeth Saylor (1939) 39 Part II: Exile and War Chapter 4 At Home in Exile (1940–1945) 51 Chapter 5 Reconstruction (1946–1948) 63 Chapter 6 Interlude 2: Gaby Casadesus (1946) 71 v 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page v Part III: “La Belle Dame sans Merci” Chapter 7 A New Era (1949–1957) 75 Chapter 8 La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) 87 Chapter 9 Interlude 3: Emile Naoumoff (1970s) 109 Part IV: “Après Elle le Deluge” Chapter 10 “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) 119 Chapter 11 The Schism Opens (1988–1993) 139 Part V: The Frog Rodeo Chapter 12 The Frog Rodeo (1994–present) 155 Epilogue Nutrisco et Extinguo 171 A Note on the Appendixes 185 Appendix A A Timeline of the Conservatoire 187 Appendix B Curriculum Offered at the Conservatoire Américain 195 Appendix C Directors of the Conservatoire Américain 197 Appendix D Selected Professors of the Conservatoire Américain 199 Appendix E Selected Guest Artists at the Conservatoire Américain 203 Appendix F Selected Notable Students of the Conservatoire Américain 205 Appendix G Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain 209 Bibliography 251 Index 257 About the Author 263 vi � Contents 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page vi � Acknowledgments There are many people who have assisted me in the creation of this book. I would like to thank Pierre Boyer; Thérèse Casadesus Rawson; Diana Vilas Gladden; Joe Kerr; and Debra Takakjian, all with the Fontainebleau Associ- ations; the Office du Conservateur du Chateau, Palais de Fontainebleau; and the Bibliothèque Municipale de Fontainebleau. I am grateful to Elizabeth Austin; Walter Bailey; John G. Doll; Jay Gott- lieb; James Harrison; Charles Kaufman; Jean-Pierre Marty; Emile Naoumoff; Jean O’Hara; Elizabeth Saylor; and the late Mrs. H. P. (Elsie) Watson for pro- viding me with archival materials and interviews. Thanks also to Linda Carmona; Jessie Fillerup; Karin Pendle; Karl Rufener; Carl Serpa; Beth Snodgrass; and Robert Zierolf; and to Dorel Ab- bott; John Abbott; Perry Bartsch; Marion Bleyler; Mr. and Mrs. Hiram Cody; Mr. and Mrs. Charles Cole; Joan Clark; Lorene Dover; Ursula Harris; Dr. and Mrs. Drew Litzenberger; Virginia Mallard; Matilda Mauldin; Mr. and Mrs. Maloy Rash Jr.; Mr. and Mrs. Clay Whittaker; Anita Wiegand; and Karen and Winston Leonard. I am indebted to Renée Camus of Scarecrow Press, who has been a cham- pion for this book. I would also like to thank the book’s anonymous review- ers for their generosity of time and assistance. Research for this book was supported by grants from the National Coali- tion of Independent Scholars; the Peabody Conservatory of Music Alumni Career Development Fund; and the University of Cincinnati University Re- search Council. The Fontainebleau Associations also supported my research through two residencies at the Conservatoire. vii 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page vii 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page viii � Introduction In the years preceding the First World War, American music students seeking advanced study typically traveled to Germany to enroll at the conservatories— known as Hochschule—there. Few American universities or colleges offered professional-level programs for training serious composers or performers until the late years of the nineteenth century (Yale, which granted its first degree in music in 1890, is one example) and early years of the twentieth century. The majority of those schools that did attempt to educate musicians did so for the purposes of creating music instructors for primary and secondary schools and private teaching. Although a few institutions were founded around the turn of the century for professionals—Juilliard opened in 1905 with the aim of keeping Americans in America for their studies—many students still felt that the best place for them to obtain their education was in Europe. Based on the assump- tion that Germanic models of composition and approaches to precise execution in performance were the best any nation had to offer, a significant number of American composers and instrumentalists attended school in Germany and Austria following their initial studies in the United States. America’s best- known nineteenth-century composers, including John Knowles Paine, George Chadwick, Arthur Foote, Amy Beach, Sidney Homer, and Edward MacDow- ell, all benefited from German or Austrian educations that exposed them to repertoire, interpretations, and techniques lacking in American music schools of the day. These schools emphasized clarity of form and a strong allegiance to tonality, and introduced Americans to abstract and programmatic conceptual- izations, with most American composers choosing to work in the latter camp. ix 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page ix Instrumentalists also went abroad for their advanced studies; pianist Amy Fay’s celebrated memoir of her time as a student of Franz Liszt is but one ac- count of an American musician receiving training in Europe.1 Female in- strumentalists were especially drawn to study in Germany and Austria, where, following the model of Clara Schumann and other professional women, female concert artists were both comfortably situated as normal members of society and positively received in the concert hall as serious artists. The students who made this trek and enrolled in the Hochschule in those countries were serious practitioners who had exhausted their domestic resources for coaching and pedagogy and were, without exception, less inter- ested in pursuing the more traditional path of becoming an educator than in attaining the career of a soloist. Pianist Julie Rive-King, violinists Camille Urso and Maud Powell, and cellist Elsa Reugger all left the United States to pursue further training in Germany and Austria, having found that the soci- etal limitations placed on women in the United States hampered their abil- ities to reach their full potential. With the entry of the United States into the Great War, however, much civil interaction between America and Germany ceased. Reactionary musi- cians refused to play works by German composers; orchestras began to re- place German musicians with those from France, Belgium, and Russia; and it was decidedly impolitic—and often logistically impossible—for anyone to go to Germany, for educational reasons or any other purpose. The practice of American composers and performers pursuing study at Leipzig came to a halt, and Americans began staying at home for advanced musical training. How- ever, this loss of continental training opportunities was felt among students across the country, who found that, with few exceptions, the education pro- vided by music schools in the United States still could not compare with the more rigorous and demanding courses they had taken abroad. At the end of the war, students began exploring their options in regard to international ed- ucation and found that France, grateful for the assistance provided by Amer- ican forces during the war, was a welcoming place for young musicians. While Americans could not generally enroll at the Paris Conservatory due to its severe admittance restrictions, there were other opportunities for ad- vanced instruction. Although France had not been the top destination for American musi- cians prior to the war, it had a long and distinguished history of excellence in music education. Children in France were required to learn an instrument and take intensive courses in music history, analysis, and ear-training from a young age, resulting in a significant percentage of citizens with absolute pitch. Dance and music were part of the traditional elementary and second- x � Introduction 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page x ary school curricula, and students with exceptional abilities were channeled into regional conservatories at an early age for accelerated training. From these regional conservatories, students were prepared for auditions at the na- tional conservatories, the most prestigious of which was the Conservatoire National Supérieur de Musique et de Danse de Paris, known as the Paris Conservatoire. Here, students worked with a master teacher and an assistant who oversaw practice sessions, participating in daily master classes, re- hearsals, and performances. As they reached the end of their studies, students competed for a number of prizes in their areas; only a first prize, or Premier Prix, guaranteed graduation and full recognition in the professional musical community. Prior to the war, alumni included Hector Berlioz, Georges Bizet, Gustave Charpentier, Alfred Cortot, Claude Debussy, Paul Dukas, Marcel Dupré, Jacques Ibert, Édouard Lalo, Maurice Ravel, Camille Saint-Saëns, and Pablo de Sarasate. The Paris Conservatoire might have been the perfect place for Americans seeking to study abroad following the war, were it not for its limiting admis- sions policies. The Paris Conservatoire did not, at that time, admit any stu- dents over twenty-six, nor—with a few exceptions—any foreigners. There was, however, a solution. In fact, the French had gone so far as to establish a conservatory specifically for American music students, a school born out of wartime musical exchange. This institution, known as the Conservatoire Américain, boasted a faculty and courses drawn directly from the Paris Con- servatory and provided three months of intensive study during the summer months at the Palais de Fontainebleau, located just outside of Paris. Over the course of its existence, the Conservatoire has been host to the world’s top musicians both as students and faculty. Composers and performers including Aaron Copland, Virgil Thomson, David Diamond, Elliott Carter, Bathia Churgin, Quincy Jones, Idil Biret, June Anderson, Emile Naoumoff, and Pamela Frank all studied at the school during the course of their careers. The faculty roster has boasted Robert and Gaby Casadesus, Nadia Boulanger, Maurice Ravel, and Yehudi Menuhin among those providing instruction. While there has been copious scholarship about these individuals— Boulanger and her students in particular—there has not previously been a full accounting of the Conservatoire’s history as an individual entity that stands as one of the foremost institutions for training American musicians in the twentieth century. The Conservatoire Américain: A History charts this history through the use of archival documents, letters, school publications, diaries, and interviews with pivotal figures in the school’s past. The Conservatoire Américain: A History is divided into seven chronological sections. In addition, three first-person interludes testify to the experiences of Introduction � xi 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xi students and faculty at turning points in the Conservatoire’s history: from the summer before the outbreak of the Second World War, to the return of the school to its home at the Palais de Fontainebleau following the war, to the last years of Nadia Boulanger’s life and tenure as director, to the school’s struggles for relevance in a post-Boulanger musical world. The prologue de- tails the founding of the Conservatoire and the goals of its creators to de- velop a school where Franco-American relations, high levels of musician- ship, and equal opportunities for professional women could be fostered. It includes the definitive statement of these goals set forth by cofounder Fran- cis Casadesus at the time of the school’s opening in 1921 and describes the faculty and students recruited by the Conservatoire to fulfill these aims. “The Institution without Precedent” chronicles the Conservatoire’s first “golden age”: the period prior to the Second World War during which the school taught record numbers of students and attracted stellar performers as faculty members and clinicians. This section also discusses the extramusical educations students received in social behavior, European culture, and class structures. “Exile and War” provides an account of the school’s existence in the United States during the war, a time when it was kept alive by a handful of dedicated instructors in America and supporters in France. Secret rooms, borrowed pianos, and a fervent desire to maintain the Conservatoire’s stan- dards in a time of great privation all contributed to this period and gave it a bit of a cloak-and-dagger history. “La Belle Dame Sans Merci” takes its name from the Keats poem of the same name, in which a knight finds that the lady who has promised him love has, in fact, enslaved her admirers. The section deals with Nadia Boulanger’s rise to power within the Conservatoire and her controversial tenure as its di- rector, during which she was viewed both as a teacher of near-mythical abil- ities and as one who was seen as manipulative and damaging in her relations with students. By including widely varying viewpoints from her students, this section seeks to demythologize Boulanger by assessing her actions on behalf of the Conservatoire in an objective light. “Après elle le deluge” refers to Louis XV’s comment that following his reign, French society would fall into a state of collapse; the years following Boulanger’s death epitomize this pre- cisely. This section discusses the problems the Conservatoire experienced fol- lowing Boulanger’s death. This was a period marked by instability in the school’s mission and direction, as well as a continuous flux in leadership. “The Frog Rodeo”—a term used by administrators and students alike to de- scribe the chaotic French and American collaboration that tries to keep things organized at the school—describes the Conservatoire’s most recent in- xii � Introduction 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xii carnation as a mostly well-intentioned but not always well-executed pro- gram. Finally, the epilogue offers an assessment of the Conservatoire today. Note 1. Amy Fay, Music-Study in Germany: The Classic Memoir of the Romantic Era, with a New Introduction by Francis Dillon (New York: Dover Publications, 1991). Introduction � xiii 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xiii 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xiv � A Note on Bibliographic Abbreviations Source materials for this book were found in many places. These included the Conservatoire Américain’s archives in the Palais de Fontainebleau and in the school’s other holdings in Fontainebleau; the Bibliothèque Munici- pale de Fontainebleau; the Conservatoire Américain’s archival storage ar- eas in New York; the personal holdings of administrators of the Conserva- toire Américain; the private archives of Diana Vilas Gladden in New Haven, Connecticut, which encompass the personal materials of several late administrators and students of the school; and original materials (such as interview transcripts) held by the author. In order to accurately reflect the locations of these materials, notes and other citations often include the following abbreviations: CA/F—Conservatoire Américain Archives, Palais de Fontainebleau and Conservatoire Américain properties, Fontainebleau, France CA/NY—Conservatoire Américain Archives, New York CA/GA—Conservatoire Américain Archive, Gladden Archives, New Haven, Conn. BMF—Bibliothèque Municipale de Fontainebleau, Fontainebleau, France xv 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xv 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xvi P R O L O G U E � Francis Casadesus’s Manifesto and the Founding of the Conservatoire Américain (1918–1920) On June 26, 1921, the Conservatoire Américain opened its doors in the Palais de Fontainebleau to some ninety American music students. After years of German domination of American higher education in music, a mu- sical reversal was upon Europe. France, grateful for American assistance during the Great War, was prepared to offer to its allies an entirely new and engaging prospect: a summertime conservatory created expressly for Amer- ican musicians wishing to acquire the performance techniques, analytical methods, and interpretative skills taught at the illustrious Paris Conserva- toire. The vision was a revolutionary one, led by French and American mu- sicians sharing a common goal of promoting intercultural musical exchange and higher learning. The Conservatoire had its genesis in the military-music enthusiasms of General John “Black Jack” Pershing, the commander of the Allied Expedi- tionary Forces in World War I. An avid supporter of military bands, Pershing was the creator of the famed “Pershing’s Own” virtuoso army band. After hearing European military bands, he became concerned about the profi- ciency of American ensembles, and sought to imbue the skills of his band- masters with a little European flair, requesting the creation of a training pro- gram for them in 1918. The men chosen to create and direct this school for American military bandleaders, located at the Loire chateau of Chaumont, were conductors Walter Damrosch and Francis Casadesus. Damrosch, born in Germany in 1862 but by this time an American citizen, was at that time the much-admired director of the New York Philharmonic and well known xvii 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xvii in Europe. Eager to spread classical music across the wide plains of his adopted country, Damrosch was an influential supporter of new orchestras and music schools throughout the United States, and was an exceptional ed- ucator, creating the first radio and television programs in classical music for children. Parisian-born Casadesus was likewise a highly regarded musician: a man of immense energy and talent, he was born in 1870 to a large and in- fluential musical family, and he and his siblings began their musical educa- tion at a young age. Casadesus studied with César Franck at the Paris Con- servatoire, where he received equal training as a composer, conductor, and pianist. He conducted the Opéra and Opéra Comique orchestras, toured as a conductor in Russia, and wrote extensively for French music journals.1 To- gether, Damrosch and Casadesus represented a synthesis of American and French approaches to musical education and training: in short, they were perfect choices for Pershing’s multinational project. Working in concert, they ably outlined a program for the bandmasters’ school, at which Ameri- can soldiers would receive thorough training by the very best musicians France had to offer. The Americans would gain the continental musical ed- ucation no longer available to them in Germany, and French musicians would be able to display their prowess, cultural sophistication, and generos- ity at a time when the other major musical power of western Europe was po- litically and economically unable to perform. Casadesus and Damrosch be- gan their project by readily acknowledging the objectives and intents of the nations involved, and aimed high, hoping to create an institution that would meet the demands and goals of both. All of the teachers at the bandmasters’ school were to be either high-pro- file graduates or active and well-known professors from the renowned Paris Conservatoire. Classes would likewise be patterned after those at the Con- servatoire, and the repertoire would be predominantly French. French tech- nique and interpretation also figured heavily into the course planning for the Americans’ summer school, and students were expected to acquire and retain French approaches to both performance skills and analytical abilities. This school for Army bandmasters, named the École Américaine du Chef de Musique, opened for the first time in the summer of 1919. Its goals were straightforward: to train army musicians, as instructed by Casadesus and Damrosch, in the areas of theory, counterpoint, harmony, and solfège— areas of study often brushed aside by American bands. In addition to class- room instruction, students were given individual lessons and participated in master classes designed to strengthen their instrumental performance skills and provide them with the rudiments of conducting large and small en- sembles, preparing them for leading their peers in concert. Students learned xviii � Prologue 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xviii to seek the “grande ligne,” a French musical philosophy which holds that melody above all creates form and structure; and were introduced to the French ideal of “bon gout”—the good taste necessary to interpret and per- form any piece of music appropriately within the French aesthetics of sub- tlety, shading, and lyricism. Although the bandmasters’ school was not intended to be permanent, Casadesus and Damrosch soon found that support ran high for the continu- ation of a summertime “American Conservatory” in France, one that would expand on the initial idea of the bandmasters’ academy and develop into a more fully realized conservatory open to civilians. In addition to continuing to promote what Damrosch termed French-American “artistic solidarity,” this proposed school also would give France all of the advantages enjoyed by Germany’s year-round conservatory programs in Leipzig, Düsseldorf, and Cologne: professors from the Paris Conservatoire would continue to teach, and American students would have an outlet for European study similar to what they had enjoyed in Germany prior to the start of hostilities. Having only recently emerged from the long, emotionally and economically devas- tating Great War, the idea of France outperforming the German musical sys- tem of traditional and summer conservatory programs—a system of which the Germans were very proud and which, prior to the war, had attracted vast numbers of American students in search of advanced musical training—was irresistible for the French. Indeed, the wartime “Comité-Franco-Américain,” a society of young French musicians that included Nadia and Lili Boulanger, had sought to provide comforts in the form of morale-boosting events and newsletters for troops drawn from the cultural life of both countries. Mem- bers of this committee, which included American patron and composer Blair Fairchild, were highly enthusiastic about Damrosch’s and Casadesus’s plans, and while they were not directly involved in the founding or development of the Conservatoire Américain, the fact that the committee had existed dur- ing the war further encouraged the men to pursue their course of action. Damrosch, with his eye on the further education of even the most polished American musicians, began to see the potentials of sending his New York Philharmonic players for extra schooling while the orchestra enjoyed its sum- mer hiatus. With the war over, the French often were eager to show their ap- preciation for the American war effort, and Casadesus and Damrosch had no trouble establishing several committees both in France and the United States to help with the financial requirements of such a school, as well as with publicity and the recruitment of students and faculty.2 The partnership of Damrosch and Casadesus in this expanded endeavor could not be bettered: Damrosch had access to American dollars and publicity, as well as the ears of Prologue � xix 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xix his society patrons in New York; Casadesus presented the initial idea to con- tinue the bandmasters’ school on a more elevated plane and had the reputa- tion and contacts within France needed to succeed at finding domestic spon- sors and enthusiastic professors for the faculty. Since the philosophical elements of the school’s mission had essentially been settled with the open- ing of the bandmasters’ school—now simply expanded to include civilians— the difficulties would come in the form of financing the operation and in the logistics of actually opening and maintaining a school that hoped to attract hundreds of young Americans to France for upward of three months. To begin his part of the Conservatoire’s founding, Casadesus wrote that he simply “began an inquiry in America on the subject of the founding of an ‘École des Hautes Études Musicales de France.’” The response to his let- ter was enormous, and an outpouring of encouragement and support came from all quarters: musical, governmental, and commercial. “My initial let- ter,” Casadesus wrote, “produced interest [from] a large number of important people.”3 With these “important people” including composer Camille Saint- Saëns and music publisher Jacques Durand, both of whom fully endorsed his idea, Casadesus began researching the logistics of his idea: the precise goals of such a school, the location, the capital. Among those interested in help- ing with the project was Maurice Fragnaud, the Sous-Préfet (equivalent to lieutenant governor) of Fontainebleau, a bedroom community of the na- tion’s capital. Fragnaud made Casadesus an offer: abandon the Loire and drafty halls of Chaumont and establish the new school closer to Paris, in Fontainebleau. Fragnaud’s offer of his town and its chateau for the new school’s home was a smart one. A lifelong music lover, Fragnaud found himself in charge of the municipality of Fontainebleau at a time when the little village’s prox- imity to Paris—just forty miles southeast of the capital—might have caused it to be overlooked in government dispensation of restoration funding and in both domestic and international assistance. While Fontainebleau was considered a posh suburb of the capital and home to an impressive former royal residence, its streets remained unpaved and its railway station was in disrepair following the end of the war. By bringing to his town a conserva- tory boasting famous musicians from both sides of the Atlantic as adminis- trators and faculty, as well as by delivering the society patronage that would surely accompany such artists and their endeavors, Fragnaud wisely reck- oned that Fontainebleau could only be bettered by the experience. Count- ing on the influx of cash that students and professors would likely spend in Fontainebleau, Fragnaud also correctly predicted that the presence of a con- servatory would assist its economy. For American musicians, Fragnaud fur- xx � Prologue 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xx ther reasoned, a serious summer music school in France would prove irre- sistible for both accomplished performers and amateurs, especially at a time when composers and performers balked at the traditional idea of studying in Germany. With all of these aspects in mind, he arranged for the newly es- tablished Conservatoire Américain to be granted the use of the vast Louis XV wing of the Palais de Fontainebleau. This pairing of school and chateau would become an important aspect of the Conservatoire’s identity as it de- veloped, creating an association that inextricably linked the fortunes of the school to its relationship with the Palais. As a location for a music school hoping to emphasize the artistic heritage of France and to impress its Amer- ican pupils, it was matchless. The location of the school in the Palais, in addition to being logistically impeccable, also provided a glamour and sophistication unrivaled by other European conservatories. For the wealthy patrons backing the school, the idea of students attending classes in one of France’s grandest chateaux was an extraordinary status symbol. The school’s staff began using images of the Palais in promotional materials even before the first students reveled in the extravagance of living and studying within its tawny walls. Astute adminis- tration by the Conservatoire’s publicity arm continued the association of the music school with the town and the Palais that originated with Fragnaud’s decision to host the school, and eventually alumni, having been enchanted by their surroundings, also contributed to the sense of grandeur coupled with the Conservatoire Américain. Initially built as a hunting lodge in the 1400s, the Palais de Fontainebleau fell in and out of favor with French royalty for many years until Louis XV re- turned to the vast treasures of the chateau, commissioning new works for it. Shortly after Napoleon’s rise to power, the emperor took the chateau as his residence, filling it with even more valuable art and adding a theater while restoring parts of the building that had fallen into disrepair. Home to price- less paintings, furniture, antiquities, frescos, silk and damask wall hangings, sculpture, and other fine and decorative arts, the Palais de Fontainebleau is a worthy rival to Versailles. The surrounding forest was landscaped for the pleasure of royal riders and hunters. Two celebrated gardens, the Jardin de Diane and the Jardin Anglais, were carefully planned, one to re-create a shaded glen with leafy trees, pea- cocks, and a quiet fountain displaying a whimsical sculpture, the other an ex- hibit of color and design. In the eighteenth century a glass pavilion was built in the center of the Etang des Carpes (Carp Pond), which itself is bordered by a terrace of the chateau and long lines of trees. Most famous of all is the centerpiece of the Palais, the Horseshoe Staircase that descends from the Prologue � xxi 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxi entrance of the castle into the White Horse Courtyard. Between the chateau and the grounds, the new music school had found a very luxurious place to call home, one with more than enough room for faculty and student lodgings, practice rooms, classrooms and studios, and concert venues. While Casadesus and Fragnaud worked in France to secure the conserva- tory a location, Damrosch was at work across the Atlantic. Impressed by the strength of the initial French reactions to the proposal, Damrosch threw his energy into the idea of a summer school for Americans in France, calling on his own patrons and colleagues in the United States to contribute financial and material resources and to raise publicity for the school. Damrosch proved an excellent fund-raiser for the school, contributing significantly to the coffers of the fledgling conservatory. He worked in New York with char- itable groups including the American Friends of French Musicians (a relief agency that had raised money during the war for enlisted musicians and their families), courted countless individual patrons, and mounted an ex- tensive and costly advertising campaign prior to the school’s opening in 1921. Networking within his New York social circle, Damrosch urged soci- ety figures to support and become personally involved with the project, among them Harry Harkness Flagler, the president of the Symphony Soci- ety of New York and a prominent philanthropist especially interested in American arts and music, having endowed the New York Symphony Or- chestra with the funds needed to make its first European tour with Dam- rosch; Charlotte Sanford, president of the New York Schubert Club and an early patron of the bandmasters’ school; Mr. and Mrs. Blair Fairchild, both musicians themselves; and Mabel Tuttle, the president of L’Alliance Franco- Américaine. Damrosch promoted the new school heavily within the or- chestral world as well, asking Leopold Stokowski and other luminaries of the concert hall to endorse the project. Such endorsements, in turn, fueled more contributions and donations, and naturally led to high rates of interest and application among potential enrollees. Once a location was secured and the necessary financial backing was coming in from both French and American patrons, Casadesus was ready to announce publicly what he had achieved thus far, as well as articulate the long-term goals he and Damrosch had decided on for the school as it pro- gressed beyond the bandmasters’ academy. In August 1919, Casadesus issued a statement, in English, describing the path he had taken to that point, and his ultimate ambitions for the Conservatoire. (For the sake of authenticity, it is presented here in its original form; clarifying indicia in brackets are the author’s.) xxii � Prologue 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxii After having spent seven months at Chaumont, teaching instrumentation to the A.E.F. [Air Expeditionary Force] Bandmasters and Musicians School, cre- ated through Mr. Walter Damrosch, by General Pershing, and having seen the wonderful influence that Americans and French have over one another, hav- ing also learned to love and esteem the citizens from free America, I have judged it necessary to continue in a practical way such natural, pure, and agree- able relations. With this aim in view, I immediately thought of putting, during the summer vacation, the courses of the Paris National Conservatory of Music, at the dis- posal of American students wishing to study in France and perfect their musi- cal education here. Several American friends persuaded me not to do so, as Paris has too many attractions and the young students would find too many temptations. But recently I have met at the home of some American friends a very kind man in the person of Mr. Fragnaud, Sous-Préfet of Fontainebleau. This gentle- man, a great lover of music active and generous, was pursuing the same object and, we decided to transfer this school to Fontainebleau, in this way the Amer- ican families would send their Children to France would be reassured [as to the stability of location]. This school would open each year beginning in July 1920 and would consist of the primary courses of the Paris Conservatory of music, these courses would be put to the disposal of American students of both sexes having already received a very complete musical instructions in the Conserva- tories and Music schools of America. After much effort we have obtained those same eminent Conservatory pro- fessors come to give their courses during the summer at Fontainebleau, these courses would be held either in the beautiful Chateau of that town one of the most beautiful in France which would be given over to the American students by the Ministry of Fine Arts or in a new building built for this purpose, thus al- lowing them to perfect themselves in the different branches of Musical Art and to obtain by competition the different awards, equivalent to those awarded French Students at the Paris Conservatoire. The municipality of Fontainebleau understanding that it was their duty to take the first step and despite the heavy and cruel burdens of the war they have voted unanimously the sum of 100,000 Francs for the creation of this summer school, this sum would be added to by French donations besides the munici- pality not wishing American students to be imposed upon by unscrupulous in- dividuals has decided to see to their room and board. The high school of Fontainebleau will be able to receive 200 American stu- dents of both sexes, the women students will find lodging in the Chateau (about 80), the men students will find lodgings in the College dormitories which are not occupied during the summer and also in private families who will place some rooms at the disposal of the municipality to lodge American students. Prologue � xxiii 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxiii The Principal of the School will be an American so as to offer the students the guarantee of an absolutely impartial justice in case of any complaint or claim. [ . . . ] Signed, Francis Casadesus4 After publishing this statement, Casadesus was congratulated warmly for his idea by yet more “important people” on both sides of the Atlantic, and the Conservatoire Américain was hailed as one of the brightest inspirations in recent musical life.5 During the months following the publication of Casadesus’s manifesto, Maurice Fragnaud continued to promote the music school strongly as a highly viable commercial enterprise for the town of Fontainebleau, convinc- ing his local government as well as state ministries to invest significantly in the project in addition to the loan of the chateau for the Conservatoire’s base of operations.6 Taking a gamble on the “institution created without prece- dent in France,”7 the Municipality of Fontainebleau not only provided 100,000 francs—a significant sum, especially in the postwar economy—to help Casadesus develop the school, but allocated another 25,000 francs for “necessary musical materials,” leaving the bulk of planning to his discretion. Fragnaud served as a liaison with the offices of the Palais de Fontainebleau, further negotiating space and materials for the school’s use, resulting in the chateau providing an impressive amount of space for the enterprise and ba- sic furnishings for many rooms. Casadesus and his French colleagues worked quickly to finalize the details of the school’s opening summer. The session was to last from June 15 to Oc- tober 1, although school music teachers could attend a shortened session, en- abling them to return to the United States in advance of school openings. Whereas Casadesus and a few assistants had been the only faculty at the bandmasters’ school, the roster for the Conservatoire boasted a number of impressive names. Isidor Philipp, one of the most prominent professors of pi- ano at the Paris Conservatoire, agreed to head the Conservatoire’s piano de- partment; Camille Decreus and Paul Silva-Herard also joined to teach piano; and rising stars Robert (Francis’s nephew) and Gaby Casadesus filled out the department. Composer and organist Charles-Marie Widor would lead the or- gan class. Violinist Maurice Hewitt, cellist Andre Hekking, and harpist Mar- cel Grandjany were hired for the strings department. Andre Bloch headed up the composition department, and Nadia Boulanger was hired as the professor of harmony. Arrangements were made for gas and water to be turned on in the chateau, and a final budget for the entire operation, the council prom- ised, would be forthcoming.8 xxiv � Prologue 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxiv On November 29, 1920, Casadesus and Fragnaud convened a meeting to officially mark the creation of the school.9 Those present at the convocation included Paul Seguin, the Commissaire de Gouvernement; Gaston Menier Senateur, the President de Conseil General de Seine et Marne (the area in which Fontainebleau is located in the Île de France); the mayor of Fontainebleau; Isidor Philipp; Jacques Durand, music publisher and President de la Chambre Syndicate des Editeurs de Musique, along with five other mu- sic editors and their assistants; the directors and heads of piano manufactur- ers Maisons Pleyel and Erard; composer Camille Decreus; several municipal councilors of Fontainebleau; Albert Bray, architect and conservator of the Palais de Fontainebleau; and Paul Leon, Director of the School of Beaux Arts that was also being established in the Palais de Fontainebleau for students of painting, sculpture, and architecture. It is clear from the notes of this meet- ing that all involved were excited about their “inspired creation,” and ready to work to make it a grand success. The school received its formal name, L’École des Hautes Études Musicales de France, and a shorter, more specific appellation, the Conservatoire Américain. In his manifesto, Casadesus makes clear his intentions for the Conserva- toire Américain: superior American musicians—those “having already re- ceived a very complete musical instructions in the Conservatories and Mu- sic schools [sic]”—would be studying with the most superior French musicians. Students were to be evaluated at the time of application on a scale similar to that used by the Paris Conservatoire, which had opened in 1783 and quickly had become one of, if not the, most prestigious school for musi- cal training in the world. Initially, the Conservatoire was open only to stu- dents of French background, although in the late nineteenth century this re- striction was lifted, and today the school actively recruits students from other nations. Entrance to the Paris Conservatoire was exceptionally difficult. Stu- dents had to pass a rigorous set of exams and auditions in order to be consid- ered, and they had to fall within the narrow age requirement prescribed by the school. Once admitted, students studied with a principal teacher and an assistant, who oversaw practicing and technique lessons. Juries measured the progress of the students, who were obliged to compete for the highly desir- able performance, solfège, composition, and other prizes awarded yearly by the Conservatoire. To become a world-class performer in France, it was nec- essary to study at the Paris Conservatoire and receive such an award; no sub- stitutions would do in a young musician’s training.10 As a graduate, Casadesus would have been intimately familiar with these procedures. Indeed, he repeatedly mentions the Paris Conservatoire as his model: students would sit for placement exams upon arrival, and competitions Prologue � xxv 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxv for the much-desired Premier Prix would be held in composition, harmony, and all instruments. Of the twenty courses offered the first year, including composition, counterpoint and fugue, conducting, organ, piano, violin, cello, harp, and voice, seventeen were slated to have Premier Prix competitions at the end of the summer. There was an additional goal, though, that reached beyond levels of in- struction and attainment: equality in treatment between male and female stu- dents. It is apparent from the manifesto that equality of the sexes was to be a goal of the school. From the turn of the century and through the prewar years, female performers had been gaining social acceptance. Paris Conservatoire pi- ano professor Marguerite Long, well known to Casadesus from his days there, as well as to the rest of his administrative council, had become very highly re- garded as a piano virtuoso, and her student Gaby Casadesus was one of the first faculty members hired. The conditions set forth by the manifesto—that specific lodgings were set aside for female students—indicate a willingness if not eagerness to be inclusive of women at the school and to cultivate their talents on the same basis as that of male students. This progressive stance was one that was liberating for American students, many of whom were restricted at home in regard to advanced studies and were rarely encouraged to pursue serious concert careers. However, not all of Casadesus’s intentions survived beyond the school’s first year. While it maintained high levels of training and held competitions for the Premier Prix, the Conservatoire almost immediately jettisoned one of its loftiest goals in its initial appeal for students: that of highly selective vet- ting of prospective students. A far cry from the detailed screening forms of the Paris Conservatoire, applications for admission to the Conservatoire Américain’s first session requested simply the applicant’s name, the course he or she wished to take, and letters of recommendation. These letters tended to be from clergy, bank managers, and personal or family friends rather than professional musicians or professors. They make for interesting reading, pro- viding a window on the lives of the students and their musical situations, but are clearly not the kinds of materials on which prospective professionals should be judged for admittance to an elite music school. Composer Aaron Copland, who was the first student to enroll, provided a recommendation letter in which his teacher remarks that his student always pays on time, but says nothing about young Aaron’s talent or dedication to a life in music.11 Franco-American society figure Mabel Tuttle, having taken on a formal role in the Conservatoire’s stateside administration as a sort of admissions officer, collected applications in New York, commenting on the suitability of each applicant in pencil on the application or with a typewritten statement. The xxvi � Prologue 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxvi exact criteria she used for accepting students are unknown, but by and large it appears that students from her own social rank or a similar background were acceptable, while individuals from groups outside of the East Coast’s white establishment were more suspect. In general, though, with a good bank balance and positive character references, almost everyone who applied for the 1921 session was admitted. The exclusions from this open-door policy were dictated by the firm social restrictions of the period: for many years af- ter the school’s opening all of the class photographs show a uniformly white student body, though it is hard to say empirically whether this is the result of manipulations within the admissions process or the effect of the divisions of race and class within the United States. Applications from black students were indeed rare. Notes on Josephine Baker’s niece’s application denote her relationship to the famous entertainer and to her race, and the word “pass?” is lightly penciled in.12 No records exist of her acceptance or attendance, and the episode further queries the school’s—or perhaps simply Tuttle’s—admis- sion policies in regard to religion and race during this early period. While some Jewish students—like Copland—were accepted, a tacit quota seems to have been adhered to so as to limit the numbers of those admitted. More than a few students with potentially Jewish surnames had their applications marked with “Jewish?” in pencil, presumably by Tuttle or an assistant, and unsigned correspondence indicates the perceived need to keep Jewish stu- dents under a certain limit.13 For those applicants deemed suitable to attend its inaugural session, how- ever, the experience was a unique one. Upon acceptance, female students were assigned a room in the Palais; men were given the information neces- sary to make living arrangements in town. The first students of the Conser- vatoire Américain ranged from highly skilled professionals to amateur begin- ners.14 Aaron Copland is the most widely known of the class of ’21; the class also included composer Zo Elliott and organist Stanley Avery. Other students who enrolled that year were aspiring soloists; music-school teachers; and sev- eral young women who may have been quite serious and accomplished musi- cians, but whose parents were more interested in their acquisition of French taste and clothes than in musical skills, attested to by their letters to the ad- ministration enquiring about the possibilities of Paris shopping trips, French lessons, and other nonmusical activities.15 Many women were very serious musicians indeed: violinist Barbara Lull had already made her Carnegie Hall debut when she attended, and Emilie Rose Kay was recommended by her pri- vate teacher, who also mentioned that, if accepted, she would be bringing her Stradivarius.16 Students came from thirty-eight states. Some were more ex- perienced than others, having finished their formal higher education in the Prologue � xxvii 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxvii United States and begun careers—Avery attended when he was forty-two years old and already established as a professional choirmaster and organist. Others, like Copland, were in their early twenties and not yet recognized pro- fessionally. Still others were hardly out of childhood, the forerunners of the prodigies yet to attend. Because of the social mores of the day, few female stu- dents came unaccompanied: mothers traveled with daughters and lived with them in the chateau or in rented lodgings. Some students and their mothers took classes together, the older women brushing up their skills as their daugh- ters acquired their own. In New York, Tuttle arranged for students to travel together in groups on the France from the United States in early June, where they would be met in Paris and escorted to Fontainebleau. After a week at sea, students disembarked in Cherbourg and made their way to Paris and the Gare de Lyon station, where they boarded trains for Fontainebleau. Casadesus and Damrosch had laid the foundations for a potential para- digm shift in the music world. By offering elite training to American musi- cians in France, they were effectively declaring the period of German- dominated American instruction to be over. If their vision succeeded, young American composers, instrumentalists, singers, and conductors would spend the twentieth century absorbing French repertoire, style, and musical language, along with a dose of culture and arts outside of music alone. It was a bold experiment in wresting musical control away from one part of the world and bringing it to another, and had the potential to change musical thought and pedagogy in unforeseen ways as the lessons of the Conservatoire were disseminated throughout the United States by alumni. As students arrived at the small Fontainebleau train station, this new experiment was about to become a reality. Notes 1. Gaby Casadesus, Mes noces musicales (Paris: Buchet/Chastel, 1989). 2. Historically, the Americans involved with the opening of the Conservatoire Américain were lauded with most of the credit for doing so. Damrosch himself claimed sole credit in 1932 for its creation, casting its then director, Charles-Marie Widor; head of the piano department, Isidor Philipp; Casadesus; and Fragnaud in very secondary roles. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, May 1932, 9. 3. Report of the Conseil d’Administration, November 29, 1920, BMF. 4. Document of Francis Casadesus, August 8, 1919, BMF. 5. Report of the Conseil d’Administration, November 29, 1920, CA/F. 6. Report of the Conseil d’Administration and financial statements, May 20, 1921, CA/F. xxviii � Prologue 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxviii 7. Report of the Conseil d’Administration, November 29, 1920, CA/F. 8. In fact it did not appear until late May, just a month before the school was to open, marking a lack of financial preparedness that would haunt the school even to the present day. 9. The meeting of November 29, 1920, marked the first official convocation held with a view to establishing a school in the Fontainebleau area. Maurice Fragnaud and Francis Casadesus had held private and informal meetings, referred to in Casadesus’s manifesto (see below), prior to this larger gathering. The notes for those less formal discussions, if any were taken, are no longer extant. 10. Charles Timbrell, French Pianism (Portland, Ore.: Amadeus Press, 1999), 26–32. 11. Application dossiers of 1921, CA/F, BMF. 12. Notes of Mabel Tuttle and admissions dossiers, undated 1920s, CA/F. 13. Application dossiers of the Conservatoire Américain, undated 1921–1930s, CA/F, BMF. 14. Application dossiers of 1921, CA/F, BMF. 15. As attested to in some cover letters from parents; one mother inquires about the shopping in Paris, CA/F. 16. Application dossiers of 1921, CA/F, BMF. Prologue � xxix 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxix 06-549_00_FM.qxd 10/30/06 6:29 AM Page xxx P A R T I THE INSTITUTION WITHOUT PRECEDENT 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 1 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 2 C H A P T E R O N E � The Institution without Precedent (1921–1928) The town of Fontainebleau celebrated the opening of the Conservatoire Américain in 1921 with great ceremony. The streets from the train station to the center of town were lined with French and American flags and with wel- come banners. Thousands of Fontainebleau’s citizens greeted the American music students upon their arrival from Paris. Camille Saint-Saëns, the school’s honorary president, gave the inaugural address on the morning of June 26 at the school’s official opening. He thanked Maurice Fragnaud and, in ornate language appropriate for his nineteenth-century manners, ad- dressed those gathered for the opening about the internationality of com- posers and about the influence traveling had on composers who had done so widely during their careers—Bach, Gluck, Mozart, Meyerbeer. “Overall, young ones,” he proclaimed, “do not search for originality, but let your own personality form naturally. He who searches for originality arrives only at the bizarre and the mad. [ . . . ] France welcomes you with open arms [and] the intimate union between France and America assures the triumph of peace without which the arts could not flourish.”1 Saint-Saëns went on to discuss contemporary music, taking time to decry much new music for his interpretation of its deliberate disrespect for melody and rhythm. The current compositional atmosphere, he told the students, faculty, and crowd of townspeople, was warlike, but clearly the forces of melody and lyricism would win. Although Saint-Saëns’s opening-day decla- mation may have been dismissed by some in the audience or seen today as the ideological rant of an aging composer, his cri de coeur on the battle lines 3 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 3 of new music set the stage, however subtly, for the ideologies of the compo- sition faculty at the school. Composition at the Conservatoire was taught as strictly as any other Paris Conservatoire subject, resulting in extremely well trained musicians. However, a conflict developed over the inclusion and ac- ceptance of certain compositional approaches and techniques. Although his tenure as honorary director of the “American Conservatory” was short-lived, Saint-Saëns’s remarks had a long life, as echoed, however consciously, in the approaches of the composition faculty, who, as it will be seen, studiously avoided including avant-garde or emerging compositional techniques in their work with their American students but who at the same time empha- sized that students find their own voices. To further celebrate the opening day, faculty organist Charles-Marie Widor gave an afternoon recital at the town hall featuring the works of Saint-Saëns as well as his own and selections from Bach. After a banquet lunch at the Palais, Damrosch and Fragnaud gave speeches, and uniformed soldiers performed band music throughout the afternoon in a nod to the Conservatoire’s military origins at Chaumont. Saint-Saëns appeared again at an evening concert in the Galerie Henri III, along with Widor, Gustave Charpentier, and the Harvard Vocal Ensemble. A second lavish banquet took place during intermission, and the band again struck up to play works by the composers in the audience. As night settled over the chateau, fireworks illuminated the luminaria- ringed carp pond. Near the island in the center of the carp pond stood a float bearing the French and American flags, lit by floodlights. Students and fac- ulty signed a book marking the opening of the venture, and Saint-Saëns in- cluded a bit of doggerel: De Fontaine-belle-eau les carpes Entendant l’arpège des harpes Enlès dont les pianos le soumettent des eaus [In Fontainebleau (fountain of beautiful water) the carps listen to the arpeggios of the harps while the Enlès pianos sink submitting to the drink]2 The celebratory mood of the Conservatoire’s grand opening lasted on, but lessons, classes, and rehearsals began immediately. One class each in compo- sition, counterpoint and fugue, harmony, conducting, organ, piano, violin, 4 � Chapter One 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 4 cello, chromatic harp, pedal harp, and harpischord were given, along with three classes in voice and an instrumental ensemble class. Finding that the range of student abilities was wider than anticipated, piano professor Isidor Philipp and violin professor Maurice Hewitt partitioned the piano and vio- lin classes into higher and lower divisions, allowing them to spend more time working with students at the appropriate levels and speeds. Aaron Copland described his daily living situation at Fontainebleau and his choice of courses in a letter home to his parents: Fontainebleau, June 25th, 1921 Dear Ma and Pa, At last I am in Fontainebleau! Everything has turned out splendidly. There was an autobus at the station to meet us, and we had dinner at the Palace. It certainly is a marvelous place, all surrounded by forests and woods. The con- servatory rooms are on the ground floor, the girls live upstairs, and the boys live with French families around the town. I am living in a room by myself which I like very much. It is as big as our parlor, with 3 windows bigger than ours, is nicely furnished, has running water, and the nicest old lady to take care of me, who speaks French only, so that I am forced to learn by talking to her. I have already hired a piano (at about $5.00 a month.) The house is on a very quiet street, about a 10 minute walk from the Palace, where we eat all our meals. The dinner was very good, so I don’t think we’ll have any trouble on that point. My trunk is going to be sent here tonight. You have no idea how good it is to feel that I am settled, at last. [ . . . ] I have been playing on one of the baby grands at the Palace all after- noon, and enjoyed myself immensely, after not having a piano for over 2 weeks. I have decided to study piano here also for 220 francs, (about $20) a month extra. If I don’t think I’m getting my money’s worth, I’ll quit after a month. The piano teacher, Isidor Philipp, is very famous, and known all over Europe and America, and I think is certainly worth the money.3 Indeed it was. The French council, with the general approval of the American committee, had chosen its professors for the Conservatoire with great care. As Casadesus and Damrosch had planned, the majority were drawn from the ranks of the Paris Conservatoire. The council was prescient in insisting that its professors come from that august institution, as its repu- tation only grew when its alumni—including Robert and Gaby Casadesus— toured throughout North America in the 1920s and 1930s. Professors at the new school were instructed to work hard, and most gave two private lessons per student each week in addition to almost daily master classes and other group sessions throughout the 1920s. Professors were excited about the The Institution without Precedent (1921–1928) � 5 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 5 school, and evidently dedicated to its success, offering regular concerts and working and socializing with students as part of an effort to enrich their in- dividual experiences as much as possible. The Conservatoire was equally determined to keep its faculty well com- pensated and happy to be in Fontainebleau for the summer. As the value of the franc fell in the mid-to-late 1920s, professors were paid in dollars, an extra incentive to keep them on the faculty. Though there was a hiring freeze on new faculty owing to a limited budget in that area, the faculty re- ceived a raise of thirty percent in 1926, and in 1927 the work of the faculty was further rewarded when all received a raise of 40,000 francs, to make a total of 200,000 francs per summer. The Conservatoire was also eager to add to its faculty to meet student needs and in order to entice more appli- cants. Following the 1927 session, healthy finances enabled the hiring of a new oboe teacher to teach part-time at 6,000 francs annually, and at the end of that year the bank balance showed 630,000 francs in the combined account of the Conservatoire and the École des Beaux-Arts. Later that year, two additional professors were contracted, pianist Helda Rosewald and soprano Félia Litvinne, who, because she originally was from Russia, was obliged to take out French citizenship in order to teach at the Conser- vatoire Américain.4 Piano classes were the most populous, perhaps owing to the stature of the faculty. In addition to Isidor Philipp, a venerable figure in the piano world, two early and influential members of the Conservatoire faculty were Paris Conservatoire pianists Robert and Gaby Casadesus. Gabrielle Casadesus, née L’Hôte, was born in 1901 in Marseille and had begun her piano studies as a small child. At the Paris Conservatoire, study with Marguerite Long and Louis Diémer led to her Premier Prix at age seventeen. Like Gaby, Robert studied with Diémer at the Paris Conservatoire, where he trained also as a composer with Xavier Leroux. Both Gaby and Robert were already well known by the 1920s and were regarded as some of the top artists of the time. They married on July 16, 1921, in Paris and went immediately to Fontainebleau, where Robert was to be Philipp’s assistant in the piano de- partment. There they campaigned together for the inclusion of more French repertoire and especially for recent French repertoire in the piano students’ assignments, lessons, and concerts. The Casadesuses performed much new repertoire by their countrymen themselves, especially that of their close col- league Maurice Ravel, gently bucking the tradition of Philipp’s adherence to Saint-Saëns’s claim that new music was bizarre and undeserving of serious consideration.5 Students often benefited greatly from studying with Robert and Gaby in concert: the former working with a student on interpretation 6 � Chapter One 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 6 and musical understanding; the latter taking students through her own daily technique and assigning exercises designed to create the French touch at the keyboard. Pianists of all levels and backgrounds flourished at the Conserva- toire, many of them returning to Fontainebleau for additional summers of study in order to further their skills for their own teaching careers or to pre- pare for professional recitals. The classes in harmony, counterpoint, and composition were especially thorough, as students of Nadia Boulanger discovered. Boulanger, at age thirty-four, was already on the faculty of the Paris Conservatoire when she began teaching at the Conservatoire Américain in 1921. Though she had taught privately since she was sixteen, and had tutored her younger sister Lili to great acclaim, Boulanger had just one year of formal experience as a teacher of harmony, counterpoint, accompaniment, and history at the École Normale de Musique when she was hired by the Conservatoire Américain as a harmony professor. However, her previous experience and innate gifts as a teacher bore out, and she soon accumulated a huge following among the composition and harmony students who attended during the school’s first decade, among them Copland, Virgil Thomson, Colin McPhee, David Dushkin, George Antheil, Louise Talma, and Herbert Elwell. By 1927 Boulanger had sixty-six students, fifteen more than André Bloch, the official professor of composition. In fact, she impressed her stu- dents to the degree that many stayed on in Paris after the Conservatoire Américain had closed for the year and continued their studies with her. Boulanger retained the severity of Paris Conservatoire standards and, as Saint-Saëns’s opening address might have predicted for the composition fac- ulty, she reined in too much experimentation by her students, especially those lacking the requisite groundwork and schooling. Her students studied music ranging from Renaissance counterpoint and masses to the fugues of Bach and Beethoven, from works by Schütze to those of Hindemith and Stravinsky, and classes could spend an entire summer on a monothematic canon of works chosen by Boulanger: rhythm in Stravinsky, organic struc- ture in Renaissance masses, Debussy’s harmonic language and its influences. Although despised by Saint-Saëns, Debussy had become commonplace in the performance and analysis repertoires of Fontainebleau students, but few other contemporary composers were accorded such status, and for many years the twentieth century ended for Boulanger’s students with La mer and the Prélude à l’Après-midi d’un faune. The composition course ended the summer with Paris Conservatoire– style evaluations and led to the standard competitions for Premier Grand Prix, Seconde Grand Prix, and Mentions honorables. The rules of the competition The Institution without Precedent (1921–1928) � 7 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 7 in 1924 are indicative of the level of study and proficiency assumed of the students: Pupils cannot take part in this competition unless they have given ample sat- isfaction in a preliminary test-competition. This Test-competition comprises the writing of a fugue in four parts (on a given theme) besides a chorus in eight parts. The installment of each candidate will take place at the Palais of Fontainebleau. The competitors will be rigorously isolated and have to com- pose one of the following works according to their choice 1. A cantata for three voices and orchestra; 2. A sonata for violin and piano or violoncello and piano; 3. The first movement of a String quartet.6 Although only a select few students ever achieved a Premier Prix, the lev- els required by the composition and the composition-related courses at- tracted publisher Jacques Durand to concerts, and he sat in the front row at every twice-a-week concert selecting new talent to publish, choosing, in 1921, Copland as his first protégé.7 The young composer’s Cat & Mouse for piano was premiered in Fontainebleau and published by Durand. Five years later, the composition class of 1926 was deemed talented enough to merit a broadcast of their works on national radio from the Eiffel Tower, aided by the student vocal ensemble. The highly visible success of the composition program at the Conserva- toire, along with the equally traceable results shown by pianists coming through Philipp’s department, gave the school much-needed credit in its first years in becoming more solidly established as a permanent fixture of the French and American musical landscapes. While not every student thrived in the tough atmosphere of Boulanger’s classes, the Conservatoire could, af- ter just a few years of operations, point to students whose Fontainebleau ex- periences had clearly benefited them in terms of their professional develop- ment and opportunities. For the school’s administration, such successes were sweet returns on the initial hard work Casadesus and Damrosch had done in laying the groundwork for their “summertime conservatory” and ensured that patrons both French and American, private and public, would continue to support the school as it grew out of infancy. For performers, the Conservatoire’s three-month summer course consisted of intensive rehearsals and coaching, master classes, and public perform- ances. Students who played large or fragile instruments rented them from music stores in Paris in order to avoid the cost and trouble of transport. Prac- tice rooms were located in the chateau and, in order to accommodate moti- 8 � Chapter One 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 8 vated students, some rooms were divided into smaller practice areas and a partition was built in 1927 to help control the prodigious noise of the organ. Repertoire for instrumentalists—like pianists—consisted primarily of French works dating from Couperin through Ravel and those by standard common practice–period composers including Bach, Mozart, and Beethoven. All performers—pianists, singers, and instrumentalists—were strongly en- couraged, if not actually required, to present premieres of their colleagues’ newly composed works. Steinway, Erard, Pleyel, and Chickering offered prizes and scholarships for pianists for their performances given during the school’s session: prizes were often scholarships or cash, intended to encour- age students to return to Fontainebleau. Concerts were numerous, with twenty-five or more each year by the students and many more by faculty and visiting artists. Small, two-or three-day festivals were held in which a large number of works by a selected composer were presented. Fauré, Debussy, and Ravel were accorded this honor along with Rameau and a number of other French Renaissance and Baroque composers.8 The head of the Société de Musicologie proposed a series of historical concerts, and while period instru- ments do not seem to have been used, there was a lasting vogue of giving concerts of Renaissance and early Baroque music. All of the French-music festivals—whether centering on early music or contemporary composers— were of special use to the faculty, who used them to help students understand the French musical aesthetic of transparency, continuity, and line. Pianists demonstrated their newfound souplesse and pedaling techniques while draw- ing out the long, sensuous lines of Debussy’s preludes or miniatures by Fauré. Thus American students learned the technique and the repertoire of their adopted land hand in hand, leading to expert understanding of French com- positional approaches and performance practice in American performers of this period. All students participated in the school’s vocal ensemble either as singers or keyboard accompanists, deepening their knowledge of music history and the foundations for the more modern music they performed at their recitals. Con- certs were held in the tapestry-hung Jeu de Paume—once the king’s tennis court—and in the Salle des Colonnes, an impressive but acoustically unten- able salon noted for its gilt and marble.9 In its inaugural year, 25 concerts were given by the students of the Conservatoire Américain, presenting 105 French works and 20 non-French pieces. Works performed included those by Francis Casadesus, Chabrier, Chausson, Debussy, Dukas, Fauré, Franck, Ravel, Rous- sel, Saint-Saëns, Widor, Granados, Paganini, Rachmaninoff, Rubinstein, and Lili Boulanger; and select students performed in Paris on September 23 in cel- ebration of the first year of the Conservatoire Américain. The Institution without Precedent (1921–1928) � 9 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 9 Faculty also presented recitals, and guest artists made frequent appear- ances, usually combining a concert date with a master class or coaching ses- sions. Especially noted by students were those performances presented by harpist Grandjany, Robert and Gaby Casadesus, and the Society of Ancient Instruments (including members of the Casadesus family), which was held in the Chapel of St. Saturnin. Other prominent performers of the first decade of the Conservatoire included child piano prodigy and later staunch Conservatoire supporter Beveridge Webster, the Quarles Trio, pianists Mar- ian Hahn and Clara Rabinowitch, flutist Quinto Maganini, singers Victor Prahl and Charles Pemmac, and Philadelphia Symphony Orchestra violin- ist Max Polikoff. The number of concerts and other public events both in Fontainebleau and in New York—billed as alumni recitals—emphasized the new school’s rosters of faculty and student talent, and enabled potential sup- porters and students to take part in the Conservatoire Américain experi- ence before committing funds or a summer to the school. In addition to all of the musical exposure given its students, the Conser- vatoire also presented readings and discussions of French literature, and noted writers were brought in for informal classes with interested students. Social events were often hung on the framework of a reading or discussion, and were held both in the Palais and at professors’ homes, including Boulanger’s and the Casadesuses’.10 Students became fully immersed in French culture and life, and their education ranged from the poetry of Paul Valéry to cheese tastings and from the art hanging in the Palais to impromptu but enthusiastically given French lessons. The first years of the Conservatoire’s existence were not without difficul- ties. In fact, there were considerable problems with the school’s expectations and abilities to reach its target audience, especially in its first years. At a meeting in December 1921, Francis Casadesus lamented the lack of prepara- tion done by the Palais staff to ready the building for its charges. Even more disappointing to the faculty was the state of the Americans’ solfège, theory, and dictation skills, which they found often insufficient for the levels of in- struction they had hoped to provide. Of the composition students in the class of 1921, not one was judged worthy of a Premier Prix, though two honorable mentions were given. In the organ class, two Premier Prix were awarded, with another two in the top piano class and seven in voice. No violinists were deemed sufficiently superior, nor were any cellists, harpists, or students of harmony, counterpoint, and fugue. Several Seconde Prix were issued, along with some half-hearted honorable mentions. The students’ ignorance in mu- sic history was another disappointment, and techniques were not as high as had been expected. As Stanley Avery frankly recalled of the first group of 10 � Chapter One 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 10 students, “We were really a more or less hit-or-miss crowd and there were some in the nearly 100 students who hardly knew what it was all about. Their approach and lack of receptivity must have astonished the scholarly profes- sors who were put over us.” Although Avery felt that, “the majority [of stu- dents] came in earnest and were equipped to take the splendid instruction furnished,” there was sufficient concern to merit discussion among the ad- ministration and faculty.11 Finally, Casadesus noted the need for increased administrative staff and funding.12 Casadesus and Damrosch immediately set about making improvements on both sides of the Atlantic for the following summers. Clearly, acceptance standards would have to be more stringent in order to ensure higher quality students. Looking back at their original plans for admittance requirements, Damrosch prepared formal and fairly strict entrance exams including sections on theory and history for students to take as part of the application process. Those who passed would then be assigned a series of etudes to prepare for an audition in New York. If an applicant was approved at this audition, he or she was then to receive another set of etudes to prepare for assessment in Fontainebleau. However, in choosing to accept only the students with the most potential as professional musicians, the Conservatoire would inevitably lose much of its capacity for income—namely, accepting less gifted or only moderately talented students from wealthier families. In order to alleviate this necessity, the Comtesse Montesquieu Fezensac á Bourron, the Comtesse Beneditti, Blair Fairchild, and others granted annual scholarships of 5,000 francs to be given to more capable but less wealthy students so that the school might be less dependent on accepting less advanced students in order to pay the bills. More fund-raising was also undertaken in the United States in order to publicize the school and attract more advanced students. Unfortunately for faculty and the more advanced students, the uneven mix of student talents remained. Despite additional financial assistance from donors and the overall strengthening of the Conservatoire’s assets, there was never quite enough for an endowment, and this progressive plan for stricter auditions and admissions was never implemented due to the continued need for tuition from amateurs. While they may not have been the most proficient students, those in this category did pay full tuition, al- most without exception. As a result, a weak compromise was made by the administration, which realized that its goal of staying solvent was not en- tirely compatible with its goal of limiting admission to only the best and most proficient. Instead of limiting enrollment, guidelines for students’ be- havior and scholarly obligations were drawn up and accepted students were required to sign contracts, in which they agreed to attend all classes and The Institution without Precedent (1921–1928) � 11 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 11 complete assigned homework. This measure, meant to convince students of the seriousness of their studies and their participation in Conservatoire events, had mixed results; each session had its inevitable group of less sin- cere students, generally outweighed by those who were prepared to work and threw themselves into the Fontainebleau experience with gusto. Because of the perceived levels of student performance and participation, some faculty and council members suggested ending the competitive trials for prizes at the end of each session, arguing that the students simply weren’t prepared for the trials of such competitions. They proposed, instead, that students sit for an exam that would lead to a diploma rather than to a true Premier or Seconde Prix. This specific plan was meant to ease the concerns by faculty that awarding students whom they believed to be undeserving of these prizes would devalue the prizes themselves. The implication that the competitions of the Conservatoire Américain were not as rigorous as those of the Paris Conservatoire, and that this was an injustice to both schools was one strongly believed by the faculty, dashing Casadesus’s hopes of creating a system of awards equal to those of his alma mater.13 The practice of com- peting for the illustrious French prizes would thus slowly be phased out, al- though competition and prizes in composition remained and a competition for the Premier Prix was offered sporadically in piano and strings. By 1926, however, most students were awarded diplomas or certificates either for “ex- cellence in execution” or “fitness for teaching.” Even with this change, the administration asked professors that the certificates be signed by them indi- vidually and not by the Conservatoire itself, which did not want to take re- sponsibility for a student’s level of competence or to damage its fledgling reputation by institutionally endorsing students they did not feel worthy of that distinction.14 Diplomas from this period are large, elaborately engraved documents, portraying two nudes, one holding a score and a baton, the other a sculpture of a winged victor. The nudes, representing muses, sit in a wreath of oak leaves and acorns which is further ornamented by theater masks, the scroll of an instrument, a palette, and architectural straight edge and T-squares. The diplomas often bear the signature of a student’s private lesson teacher alone, though a few are signed by instrumental department faculty and some by the director. Despite the hand-wringing over unsatisfactory students and standards of education and performance, though, the Conservatoire’s most pressing con- cern during the decade was its solvency. Although the city of Fontainebleau and Damrosch’s fund-raising had produced enough cash to start the project, there was still not enough capital to create an endowment of any kind on which the school could depend. During the initial year, the enormous cost of 12 � Chapter One 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 12 opening such an institution drained its coffers and caused repeated problems. In 1923 the hiring of fifty-two pianos created a financial strain, compounded by set-up costs of 50,000 francs that year, and it was believed that more money was needed for the director’s salary. That same year, the Conservatoire was joined legally with the École des Beaux-Arts, its architectural-training sister- school at the Palais, in order to strengthen the influence of both institutions and their financial position as well. This did, indeed, help, and the finances of the schools became more secure as the decade progressed. Money and support for the Conservatoire often arrived cloaked in various guises. In 1924, John D. Rockefeller gave 4,000,000 francs to the Palais de Fontainebleau for repairs. While Rockefeller’s bequest does not specifically mention the Conservatoire Américain, he was aware of the school and “this did not go without influencing the donor.”15 The school’s fortunes improved slowly, year by year: in 1925 a new organ was bought for 25,000 francs, indi- cating a strengthening of the school’s financial situation. The illustrious Presser Foundation also made significant contributions to the school during this time. The following year donations of 17,000 francs were given to the school, adding to its solvency. Logistical and cultural differences also threatened the school. By 1923, the Palais was engaged in a petty but heated dispute with the school’s coun- cil over the allocation of funds for such student amenities as linens. The ad- ministration, realizing that the school’s location in the chateau was salient in many respects and to many supporters, alternated between making concilia- tory gestures to Palais staff and sending sniping internal memos about Palais conditions and employees. In addition to exasperating squabbling over linen costs, cultural differences caused friction between the school and its hosts. The Palais staff expressed its unhappiness about the free-wheeling and casual-minded Americans living in the chateau: young women could be seen sitting in the windows brushing their hair and, according to chateau staff, distracting the men stationed there for military drills. The women were also known to hang out their “unmentionable” laundry in their rooms, a grave er- ror of judgment in the eyes of the Palais’s keepers. Unaccustomed to such be- havior, the Palais administration began a slow but steady push for the stu- dents to vacate the place as living quarters. The council of the Conservatoire responded by investigating the possibilities of lodging all of the students in town: contracting with a hotel, purchasing a house for the students, or form- ing a coalition among the town’s hotels to board students individually or in small groups. None immediately proved satisfactory, due to the perceived need that the unchaperoned female students had to be supervised. The coun- cil stressed the need for the hiring of an older woman to do this. Francis The Institution without Precedent (1921–1928) � 13 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 13 Casadesus pinned notices to the school bulletin board pleading for more re- strained behavior on the part of the students.16 In the summer of 1922, sixty students moved into some of the 140 rooms allocated by the Palais, but the battle had not been won. In October 1922 an article appeared in Figaro titled “Is the Palace of Fontainebleau a Fire Hazard?” Referring to the recent installation of elec- tricity in the wings inhabited by the students, the newspaper implied a grave danger, commonly echoed by many who had not yet accepted the new sys- tem of electricity as a safe one.17 Conservatoire Américain council members protested, and the Office of the Conservator of the Palais de Fontainebleau assured the public that the new water, gas, electric, and telephone lines in the chateau were closely monitored. However, the problem wouldn’t go away, and in December 1922 led to a rift between Damrosch and Francis Casadesus. Casadesus, who had received some letters of complaint from stu- dents about the living conditions at the Palais, decided that the Palais was right: students should be housed elsewhere. Stung by the suggestion, which would sever part of the enormously appealing link and the emerging symbol- ism of Conservatoire and chateau, Damrosch wrote to Fragnaud: I am more sorry than I can say that our friend, Casadesus, who in 1918 was so modest, self-sacrificing and idealistic, should now endeavor to ruin the insti- tution which you and he founded, by throwing doubt on the advisability of the American students living at the Palace. I have just written to him and urged him to treat the whole matter with a dignified silence and that if he persisted in his revengeful attitude he would lose the friendship and respect of the en- tire American committee. I [ . . . ] hope that you will be able successfully to re- fute his assertion and prove that, first—that the Palace is absolutely sanitary, second—that the American students in no way injure the property, and that the school has become one of the finest institutions demonstrating the inti- mate and cordial friendship between France and America.18 The American committee did, indeed, ask for Casadesus’s resignation the same month, as was reported by American Secretary Francis Rogers to Frag- naud: “The following cable was sent to Mr Casadesus today: ‘Earnestly re- quest you accept retirement and not endeavor further to injure future of School. Such efforts eventually will harm only you.’” Despite this, a month later (January 1923), the American office received in reply a telegram from Casadesus: “Minister Fine Arts appoints me Honorary Director with congrat- ulations and full pay.”19 As a concession to potential fire problems, the restau- rant in which the students ate was relocated to a site outside of the chateau grounds, but the majority of students lived in the Palais until the 1930s, mov- 14 � Chapter One 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 14 ing in 1925 from the Louis XV wing to 150 rooms in the Pavillion Henri IV in the rear of the chateau. Unfortunately, Francis Casadesus’s reputation on the American side of the Atlantic had suffered irreparable damage.20 In 1923, Max d’Ollone, a Prix de Rome–winning composer and former head of the École Normale de Musique and of the Paris Conservatory, replaced Casadesus as the acting director, although Casadesus maintained his title of honorary di- rector. Later that year Charles-Marie Widor took over general direction of the Conservatoire from Ollone, and pianist Camille Decreus was appointed resident director the following year. Notwithstanding the ubiquitous political machinations and the slow adaptation of the French hosts to American standards and foibles, the 1920s were good years for the Conservatoire. During this time the school estab- lished an enduring tradition and set high standards, despite the few weak stu- dents who, in the first years of the school’s existence, had so dismayed the faculty and overshadowed the majority who arrived ready and prepared to work and learn. News of the kinds of instruction offered and of faculty ex- pectations had spread with the return of earlier students to the United States, and classes from the later 1920s included serious musicians and young pro- fessionals. Those who came to Fontainebleau without the intent of pursuing musical careers were, nonetheless, enthusiastic, and many were earnest in their studies, achieving acceptable levels of skill and knowledge that as- suaged early administrative concerns. Copland may have described it once as “a rather conventional school,”21 but it was, in fact, rather exceptional, and peopled with extraordinary musicians, both faculty and students. Ninety-four students opened the 1923 session, in 1926 there were 143 (seventy-two in pi- ano alone); in 1927 there were 128 students, and by 1928 it became neces- sary to limit the number of students in piano, owing to the program’s bur- geoning popularity. In 1924 the Conservatoire Américain was endorsed by no less than the following: René Vivani, the former premier of France; Robert Lansing, the former U.S. secretary of state; H. E. Jules Jusserand, the French ambassador to the United States; and the highly regarded musicians Frank Damrosch, Percy Grainger, Josef Hofmann, Benno Moiseiwitsch, Pierre Monteux, Ignatz Paderewski, Olga Samaroff, Carlos Salzedo, Leopold Stokowski, Efrem Zimbalist, and David Mannes. Stories of the success of the Conservatoire Américain spread, and in 1925 the Italian government planned to start a “Conservatoire Américain d’Italie” of its own at the Villa d’Este. In his notes to the council meeting that June, Widor expressed his indignation over this “upstart” but hoped that its cre- ation would spur the French government to contribute more aid to Fontainebleau.22 Outside agencies took notice of the school, including an The Institution without Precedent (1921–1928) � 15 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 15 opera troupe that wanted to provide six scholarships for the Conservatoire in exchange for exclusive recruitment rights. Although Durand and some of his colleagues supported the plan and wanted to collaborate with the Metropol- itan Opera Company in New York, it was opposed by Decreus and came to naught. However, the idea was part of a larger patronage system that was evolving within the confines of the school and through faculty-student rela- tions. Durand continued to solicit compositions from students for publica- tion, and in later years Nadia Boulanger steered her society benefactors to her students for commissions and performances. The attention paid by the public to the school was important advertising, although the school intensi- fied its American advertising campaign in 1927, again hoping to attract a higher caliber of students. The mixture of students’ abilities and intentions changed little during these first years of the Conservatoire. Many returned year after year. Teach- ers spent two months at the school and then returned to their own class- rooms, but the remainder of the students stayed on until the end of the ses- sion. Older students brought husbands, wives, and occasionally children, many of whom began lessons of their own at the chateau as they came of age. Young talents heard of the new school’s exciting program, and teachers, too, flocked to study in Fontainebleau. Overall, the Conservatoire had become a serious institution of learning. The Conservatoire’s students enjoyed the social aspects of the environ- ment as much as the training they received. Students were expected to arrive with some French and were charged with acquiring skills and refining talents under the strict eyes of the professors, but even the strictest masters recog- nized the need for their students to enjoy their time abroad.23 Paris was a perennial favorite for day trips and weekends, and students flocked there on their days off to visit museums, hear concerts, meet other musicians, and to shop and indulge themselves in the restaurants the capital had to offer. Paris was a true temptation: Josephine Baker danced at the Théâtre des Champs- Elysées; Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas frequented the English lending- library at Sylvia Beach’s Shakespeare and Co. bookstore; George Balanchine was creating new works for the Ballets Russes; and the weekly travails of the exiled Yussupovs were entertainment headlines: the prince and his wife could themselves be observed by anyone with the trust fund needed to pay for meals in their restaurant. Closer to home, trips into the lushly landscaped forest were common, as was horseback riding. Dances and parties were held throughout the session and students frequently created their own diversions: in August 1927, Beaux-Arts and Conservatoire students worked together to 16 � Chapter One 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 16 hold a naming and christening of the cygnets born on the carp pond that year to the swans, already named Francis and Diana by an earlier generation of students. A newspaper account told the story of how students had con- structed an elaborately decorated boat, chosen a “Queen of the Swans” from their midst, costumed her, and held a grand ceremony out in the pond, nam- ing each of the six baby swans for the Conservatoire’s professors. The students sang from Gluck’s Orfeo and “La Marseillaise” to accompany the festivities.24 In a similar fashion, the Conservatoire Américain concluded its seventh year with a spectacular celebration at its traditional end-of-session fête. The Alumni Bulletin of January 1928 reports that the fête took place in August at the side of the Carp Pond, where, in keeping with a royal tradition, a young carp with a gold and dated ring in its nose was used at the high point of the ceremony. Rameau[’s] music from “Castor et Pollux” written in part at Fontainebleau, was employed and the costumes were of the same period as the music, Louis XIV and XV. The presiding lady impersonated the Duchess of Burgundy whose son, the little Dauphin and later Louis XV, gave the command for the depositing of the ringed carp in the Pond. The ceremony was concluded with a dinner and dance at the School Restaurant. The notable concerts were the programs of Paul Dukas, Arthur Honegger, the Festival of Old Music (Vivaldi, Bach, and Rameau), and the Saint-Saens program of M. Philipp—the recitals of Madeline Grey, Beveridge Webster, Marcel Dupré, Paul Bazelaire and the Philadelphia String Quartet. The demand for entrance to the Conservatoire is now attaining a point where early registration will have to be required. Former students who think of returning will do well to consider this point and not delay.25 The school had done well for its first years: it had established an excellent reputation, collected supporters and admirers, boasted an outstanding fac- ulty, and was producing successful students, both male and female. By the end of the 1920s, Conservatoire Américain alumni were teaching at Hunter College (Louise Talma), performing at Town Hall (Barbara Lull), in Italy (Marie Montana, née Ruth Kellogg Waite), and with the American Opera Company (Edith Piper), working for NBC (Reynold H. Brooks), writing for Modern Music and composing prolifically (Copland), teaching and study- ing in Paris (Marie Neubeiser, Victor Prahl, and Ruth Ware), directing the Rutgers University School of Music (Robert M. Crawford), and making Eu- ropean concert tours (Rock Ferris and Abram Goldberg). As America’s “summertime conservatory,” the Conservatoire Américain was succeeding in its mission. The Institution without Precedent (1921–1928) � 17 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 17 Notes 1. “Founding” Book (scrapbook of 1921), BMF. 2. “Founding” Book (scrapbook of 1921), BMF. 3. Aaron Copland and Vivian Perlis, Copland 1900 through 1945 (New York: St. Martin’s, 1984), 45–46. 4. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, November 1927, CA/F. 5. Gaby Casadesus, Mes noces musicales (Paris: Buchet/Chastel, 1989). 6. Brochure for the Conservatoire Américain, 1923, BMF. 7. Gaby Casadesus, interview with author, July 20, 1999, possession of author. 8. Numerous concert programs from virtually every year attest to the composer- festivals held, CA/F. 9. The Jeu de Paume is one of only a handful of surviving early tennis courts. It was in usable condition for the sport throughout the twentieth century, but in the 1990s the Palais de Fontainebleau fully restored the Jeu de Paume to its original Louis XV condition and an early version of the game is played there today by a growing group of “real tennis” enthusiasts. 10. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletins, 1920s–1990s, possession of author. Also a prac- tice that continues to the present day. 11. Stanley Avery, “The First Years,” Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, June 1947, 3. 12. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, December 1921. Also: Livre des Éleves, begun 1921, end date unknown, both CA/F. 13. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, October 1923, CA/F. 14. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, October 1923, CA/F. 15. Notes of the Conservatoire Américain de Fontainebleau, undated, CA/F. Also: Interview with Emile Naoumoff, October 14, 2000, possession of author. 16. Avery, “The First Years,” 4. 17. In fact, after Cornelia Vanderbilt had electrical wiring installed in her New York home, a small fire broke out. Though it was proved not to be the result of elec- trical problems, she had the entire wiring system torn out and reverted to the use of gas. 18. Letter, Walter Damrosch to Maurice Fragnaud, December 1922, CA/F. 19. Letter, Francis Rogers to Maurice Fragnaud, January 1923, CA/F. 20. As late as 1968 Conservatoire Américain staff in New York described him as “so inefficient and impossible that he was promptly replaced.” Letter, Marie Brodeur to Martha Crawford, October 10, 1968, CA/NY. 21. Copland and Perlis, Copland 1900 through 1945, 47. 22. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, June 1925, CA/F. 23. Letter, Francis Rogers to Maurice Fragnaud, January 19, 1924, CA/F. 24. Echo de Paris, August 11, 1927, CA/F. 25. G. Reynolds, Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, January 1929. 18 � Chapter One 06-549_Ch01.qxd 10/30/06 6:30 AM Page 18 C H A P T E R T W O � The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) In October 1929, the American stock market crashed, plunging the United States into an economic depression. Despite this grave turn of events, en- rollment at the Conservatoire Américain remained strong, with 160 students attending in 1929 and 150 in 1930. Tuition hovered around $300 for the three-month course, and discount transportation was available on several steamship lines. Clearly a significant part of the attraction was the social as- pect of school life, coupled with the somewhat better European financial condition. Seeking an escape from the grim realities of home, students flocked to France, where the economic situation would not fully exhibit the effects of the American depression until nearly two years later. The handbook for Fontainebleau students published in the May 1930 Alumni Bulletin addresses this interest in the social aspects of the Conserva- toire experience, stating that “[d]inner clothes (Tuxedo) and evening gowns for the ladies can be worn about five to eight times during the season.”1 For- mal dress was indeed required several times a summer at dinners, dances, and of course, concerts. “You may bring as much [baggage] as you like,” the hand- book advises, “by paying for over-weight.” Students could send their trunks of music and clothes ahead, as long as they settled the fees with the “Major- Domo” upon arrival at the Conservatoire. Swimming, golfing, tennis, and riding were activities that participants could take up in their leisure time. The Samois Country-Club, open to the students, featured pools, tennis courts, rowing, yachting, and hunting and fishing. The Fontainebleau Golf- Club, normal admittance a thousand francs, also was open free of charge to 19 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 19 the students of the Conservatoire. In addition there were “trips to Paris for theatres, opera, concerts, sight-seeing tours, clothes, etc.” One student even brought her own horse to ride through the perfectly manicured Forêt de Fontainebleau and to take advantage of Fontainebleau’s other famed horse country offerings.2 A bit prematurely, a tenth anniversary celebration was planned for the fourth of July in 1930, with Walter Damrosch in attendance. Concerts by and dinners with guest artists and alumni were scheduled to show off the best of the Conservatoire’s alumni, students, and musical supporters. Reports from the next summer—1931—are filled with references to the “blaring phono- graph at the Grand Café jumping blithely from cute little jazz tunes to the Bach D minor Fugue,” the visit of the Sultan of Morocco, the nightly dressed-for-dinner processions on the Rue Grande, and elaborate costume parties. These parties and dances, patterned after the much-heralded fancy dress balls held in June in Paris, were the highlights of the social season among Fontainebleau students.3 While the Parisian masquerades were enor- mous affairs held by members of the aristocracy who were known to have served three hundred lobsters at once, with their guests costumed as Louis XV shepherds, odalisques from the Arabian Nights, and safari guides com- plete with lion cubs, Fontainebleau students held their own balls at the chateau or at the student lodgings, constructing costumes in the style of the Renaissance, as chessmen, and as the ever-popular Louis XV himself.4 For one ball, women were ferried across the Etang des Carpes in a giant fish- shaped boat, sitting in its open mouth as two of the male students paddled or poled it along.5 Even Gaby Casadesus was impressed by the surroundings, and recounted that her bathroom in the chateau “was sumptuous, with an enor- mous bathtub with golden, swan-necked faucets.”6 The chateau served as the playground of the students and faculty alike, and Palais personnel expressed no reservations with the Conservatoire in showing off the national treasure when photographers were present to document the splendor. Classical music figures were not the only guests of the Conservatoire. Na- tive American dancers Chief Oskonon and Princess Spotted Elk, touring in Paris, were invited to demonstrate traditional tribal dances for the students at one ball in 1931. A later gala held by faculty pianist Camille Decreus and his wife featured a preparty program of folk songs sung by Nina Tarsova, and the “grand success” of the summer was the “Gold Rush of ’49” costume dance, for which the dining hall was transformed into a road-house, com- plete with a bar and roulette wheel. The International Barn Dance a year later also was a memory of much delight, recounted in the Alumni Bulletin: 20 � Chapter Two 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 20 “A group from Boston opened the activities with a real square dance,” and costumed partygoers included a bridal party and one student wrapped “in a steamer rug and spectacles as a German tourist.”7 Beaux Arts students dressed as cupids and flirted with the Conservatoire pupils. The palace was not the only place where members of the Conservatoire community socialized. Informal gatherings were held at the homes of Fontainebleau residents. An elocution class given by Mrs. Francis Rogers, the wife of the New York General Secretary for the school, led to uproarious skits performed at an impromptu comedy revue. Teas were held, as were jazz evenings. A local American family named Townley opened their home to students for “psycho-philosophical discussions,” where students read and de- bated “important developments in the fields of psychology, philosophy, and their allies.”8 That summer the Townleys’ garden was the Fontainebleau equivalent of Paris’s Left Bank. Bastille Day celebrations brought with them traditional dinner-dances, complete with copious amounts of free-flowing champagne, and one Bastille Day celebration brought traffic to a stop when the Conservatoire students joined residents to dance in the streets.9 Trips were popular too, combining social outings with education. Excur- sions to Vaux-le-Vicomte, Versailles, and Chartres were perennial favorites. Paris was always a prime destination, with something for everyone: Conser- vatoire professor Marcel Dupré’s organ performances at Sacré Coeur, shop- ping at the chic Paris department stores, viewing the collections at the Lou- vre, and for the gourmets, dining: “from Turkish to Russian foods; from ‘moules’ on the terrace near the Paris Flea Market to the big cheese binge at Androuet’s, to polish off the summer.”10 The faculty also hosted parties for the students at which they could asso- ciate with guest performers and dignitaries, occasionally leading to commis- sions and performances for the students. Tenuous ties made over dessert fre- quently became opportunities for musicians who were invited to perform at a benefit or to compose on commissions sponsored by society figures. Back home in the United States, the aura of having hobnobbed with the elite of France tarnished no reputations. Nadia Boulanger began holding Sunday get-togethers at her summer home in Gargenville, where she held a banquet of French and Russian cuisines, followed by “good talk.”11 Robert and Gaby Casadesus hosted students at their home in Bois-le-Roi, a nearby village, where faculty pianist Jean Batalla also held parties at his house.12 Despite all of the parties and sports and trips to Paris, most students of the 1930s did come to the Conservatoire prepared to work. Due to the high ex- pectations, strict study, and advanced levels of performance that the professors The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) � 21 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 21 demanded, the reputation of the Conservatoire had grown steadily since its inception, and alumni were quick to promote it both in Europe and back home in the United States. In the French musical community the school en- joyed the continued endorsement of Charpentier, D’Indy, Ibert, and Ravel; in America a strong and determined propaganda machine was operated by the New York office of the school, headed by philanthropist Francis Rogers, society patron Mrs J. West Roosevelt, and others.13 Alumni of the Conser- vatoire were also becoming well known, none more so than the first student himself, Aaron Copland. A rising star, Copland had left France in 1924 after extended study with Boulanger both in Fontainebleau and Paris. By the early 1930s, his name had become known across America. His first New York premiere had featured Boulanger as the soloist of his Organ Symphony, conducted by Damrosch in January 1925. Since then his Music for the Theater (1925), Piano Concerto (1925), and Piano Variations (1930) had gained a measure of fame for the young composer. Copland was often called on by the school to speak about his experiences there, and he wrote about an equally visible Fontainebleau figure in the Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin of May 1930: [Boulanger’s] mastery of the art is phenomenal and has been written about be- fore this. I cannot believe that she owes it merely to her exhaustive conserva- tory training. She is anything but a pedant. One feels a living substance at the core of her knowledge. Whether she is correcting the merest counterpoint ex- ercise or reading a new and difficult orchestral score at the piano, it is always there. When technical mastery is imbued with that living substance it takes on a new significance. It is because she loves music well that Nadia Boulanger is a master of her art and knows its most recondite secrets. Her relation to the American composer is somewhat curious. I have never known her to take any special attitude to American music either in the sense of seeking for it some quick and easy road to an expression of national con- sciousness or in the sense of taking a condescending attitude towards an art that is still, more or less, in its infancy. It is a current European fashion to be conscious of Americans as Americans rather than as men. Particularly with re- gard to our music they are over anxious to discover the American note. Nadia Boulanger has never singled out an American composer as different, as such, from a French composer or a Spanish composer. She seeks rather the profound personality that can create great music and considers such a personality as be- yond a question of territorial boundaries. In doing this she throws each pupil back on the strengths or weaknesses of his own individuality. She makes him the stronger by so doing. At the same time her faith in the future of America is striking. But her faith does not rest on a blind sympathy, but in testimony of the works she already knows.14 22 � Chapter Two 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 22 During this period, Boulanger was in the process of securing her place as the composition teacher of choice at Fontainebleau, although she re- mained listed in the brochures as secondary to André Bloch within the de- partment until after the Second World War. There can be no doubt that she was an extraordinarily influential figure in the course of twentieth- century music, especially American music. During the 1930s, streams of American composers—encouraged by the positive reports from earlier pupils—passed through the Conservatoire Américain as both formal and informal students, including William Ames, Marc Blitzstein, Robert Rus- sell Bennet, Theodore Chandler, Israel Citkowitz, David Diamond, Robert Delaney, Douglas Moore, Walter Piston, and Melville Smith.15 Jacques Du- rand continued to publish works by Fontainebleau composers in France, and the influence of Boulanger, her patrons, supportive alumni, and other Conservatoire figures assisted the composers in mounting performances both in Europe and America. Boulanger’s attentions at Fontainebleau were naturally turned toward the more proficient and talented of her students, but she did not neglect the opportunities other students—both at Fontainebleau and within her Paris circle—afforded her. Working to promote both her best composition students and herself, Boulanger was keenly aware of the value of her non- professional and society students, many of whom were highly skilled ama- teurs and interested in promoting the arts through their positions in the so- cial order. Like her friend the Princesse de Polignac, heiress to the Singer sewing machine fortune, many of her students were in positions to aid Boulanger financially in the promotion of her career as a conductor, and her students in gaining commissions and recognition. Just as Polignac had built a series of salon concerts around Boulanger’s conducting and organ playing, socially connected students in the United States arranged concerts for her there, entertained and housed her, arranged for interviews with the press, and provided her with an unending flow of new students for her classes in Fontainebleau, while at the same time carefully following and supporting the careers of her protégés.16 The composition studio was not the only busy place in the Palais during these years. Isidor Philipp was refining his style of piano “technic” with his Fontainebleau classes. As the head of the piano department, Philipp main- tained a strong hold over the students and professors alike. Choosing only the best students for his own personal attention, he nevertheless supervised the teaching of piano professors Camille Decreus, Poul Silva Herard, Jean Batalla, Nathalie Radisse, Hélène Chaumont, and Marcelle Herren- schmidt.17 Philipp believed that the “varied and expressive tone” was the The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) � 23 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 23 highest quality of a pianist, and strove to approximate the colors of the or- chestra in all works. Pianists should be knowledgeable listeners to sym- phonic works, he decreed, and his students often studied orchestral scores at the piano. Careful analysis of a work went hand in hand with Boulanger’s harmony classes, and this kind of study, coupled with the three things a pi- anist required: “first, technic; second, technic; third, technic,” would bring superior artistry. Of the same mind-set as Saint-Saëns when it came to much “new” music, Philipp’s tastes ran to Liszt, Czerny, Thalberg, Busoni, and Godowsky, the most technically—if not always musically—demanding composers. However, his teaching won him devoted students with consid- erable skills and polish. The faculty’s approaches to teaching American students continued to de- velop during the early 1930s. Organ professor Marcel Dupré set forth his ideals for pedagogy and learning in 1933, in a document that served as a plan for many of the teachers trying to uphold the French methods of instruction despite the difficulties in asking American students to make such an adjust- ment to their learning style. In his opinion, the trouble was not so much teaching the students in Fontainebleau, but making sure that the students re- tained what they had learned upon returning home. Dupré began his teach- ing guide by stating the more long-term concerns of the faculty: The problem of the Summer Course of Instruction at the Fontainebleau Con- servatory reveals several points of view. Although it depends both on the teacher’s psychology and the student’s application during the course of study, it only concerns the student when he, or she, has returned to America. The method of teaching employed at Fontainebleau in two ways—private lessons and classes—satisfies the ideal in view. He went on: The teacher who, during the tête-à-tête of the private lesson, can observe each student at close quarters and study his character is thus able to direct the class, which brings them all together in such a way that each benefits by it. Thanks to this little link between the class and the private lesson, time is gained and the student can acquire the maximum of what he can hope to acquire in only a few weeks. To say the truth the difficulty only begins when the student has left his teacher and returned home; for, if he does not want to have wasted his time, he must continue to carry out the methods indicated so that the rudiments ob- tained may bring forth fruit. 24 � Chapter Two 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 24 Dupré then listed three basic principles that he expected Conservatoire students to heed: 1. What matters is not the number of hours employed but the concentration used when working. The real musician works less with his limbs than his brain and when he does work, he does not waste a moment. 2. The preparation for his work is as important as the work itself. A thoroughly thought-out fingering, the comprehension of a part of a piece read mentally be- forehand, the decision made about muscular movements to be affected, greatly help a virtuoso in the movement of his fingers which must always be carried on with the strictest mental discipline. As for the composer, before beginning to write, he must conceive the rough outline of his work, then gradually obtain a clearer vision of the details, their choice, the arrangement of the place they must fill and the importance they must occupy. 3. No one should rely simply on memory as to what the teacher has said. It is absolutely necessary to note down during the lessons every possible indication about the text, but clearly, carefully, and without scribbling. A respect for the printed work is an elementary and material form of respect for the work itself. It would be wise, in the evening, to sum up all that the teacher has said so that the different indications given may form a firm basis for working alone in the future.18 This description of how to approach practicing and lessons offers a glimpse of the methods American students were asked to master during their three months in Fontainebleau. Economy of time and effort; a detailed analytical understanding of the work to be studied; and an absolute respect for the in- structor’s guidance and interpretative suggestion were three powerful tools for students unaccustomed to such tactics. Students were not only encouraged to heed Dupré’s advice in terms of their primary instrument, but in terms of secondary areas of study as well. The idea of the dually talented and productive musician was still being pro- moted in the mid-1930s, and the ideal of the pianist-composer or violinist- composer was often embodied in the professors: Robert Casadesus was well- regarded as a composer and frequently performed his own works in recital and with orchestras. Boulanger and cellist Paul Bazelaire were also musical polymaths, a trait common to their generation. Judging by the Livre des Éleves, the records kept of nearly every session beginning in 1925, both men and women were fully expected to take courses not only in their own instrument, but in composition or harmony as well. For women, many of whom came to Fontainebleau intending to study harmony The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) � 25 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 25 alone in order to improve their teaching prospects, this was a departure from the modest expectations their previous training had provided, and under the tutelage of supportive instructors and in an environment where American professional limitations did not apply, they flourished, and far more women than men received multiple diplomas and honorable mentions. The Livre contains lists of diplomas granted and the classification of each; it is from this document that the picture of the well-rounded musician be- comes more complete, because the names of the same students occur again and again: in harmony, solfège, piano, organ, or in the study of a second in- strument. Of these secondary areas, which included organ (for pianists), key- board improvisation, accompaniment, vocal coaching, figured bass, and sight-reading, the two more academic subjects of harmony and solfège proved most popular.19 Solfège was standard among women as an area second to instrumental performance, and teaching diplomas in it were awarded over- whelmingly to them. Women in general were more likely to try for both per- formance and teaching certificates, while male students sought performance diplomas alone, perhaps counting on that to see them into a teaching job should the need ever arise. The early 1930s saw changes in the curriculum designed to promote prac- tical primary and secondary study: new courses in music history, elementary French, stage deportment, lieder, and a sonata class were all added to the cur- riculum in 1933. Isidor Philipp began a class around the same time to help students combat stage-fright and to accustom themselves to playing from memory, which, although becoming more common, was still not the standard for European soloists.20 Outside of the practice room and away from the scores, there was a con- tinuing problem of relations with the Palais, which reached a nadir in 1932 and 1933. Regarding the long-proposed acquisition of a student dormitory that would alleviate some tensions with the chateau, Damrosch wrote to Fragnaud in January of 1932 that [t]hese are terrible years for all institutions that serve higher ends, and until the incredible financial depression changes for the better, we cannot hope for any- thing like a proper registration for the Fontainebleau school. The people sim- ply do not have the money, and for this reason Mr. Flagler and I have decided not to ask for any money from musical patrons for the dormitory at present. It would be useless.21 This was a major sticking point in dealing with the curator of the Palais, Albert Bray, who was adamant that the students move out as soon as possi- 26 � Chapter Two 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 26 ble. The original agreement was that the Palais would house the students “provisionally.” The Conservatoire was to build a dormitory of its own by 1931, at which point students would no longer live in the chateau. The dor- mitory was never built, although the school began to shop for a hotel of its own, leasing the local François I Hotel in 1932. Land and funds were set aside for a dormitory later in 1932, but nothing came of the plans for the classi- cally inspired building designed by a member of the Beaux Arts faculty. Supporters of the chateau’s keepers were vocal in the local and national press, rallying around the old suggestions that the Palais was unsafe for stu- dents and that the students were unsafe for the Palais. The next year found Widor asking the minister of education for assistance: “I appeal to your pa- triotism, sir,” he begged, “with the support of the American Ambassador.” For twelve years, he said, the Conservatoire had provided outstanding French propaganda—why, look at the Italians trying to start their own school at the Villa d’Este! Continuing the school was a matter of national interest, and those who persisted in calling the chateau unsafe for students were guilty of dangerous acts.22 Widor’s calls for patriotism and for national propaganda echoed exactly what was happening in the consciousness of American music students: the Conservatoire had been in residence long enough to connect the school and the Palais firmly in cultural memory. Its brochures, bulletins, and promo- tional materials boasted fine engravings of the chateau, and the thought of the school being located elsewhere was near unthinkable. Musical memory pegged Ravel and Debussy with the Jeu de Paume, Boulanger with the Salle Pedagogique, and school fêtes with the Etang des Carpes and the gardens. Many believed that should the Conservatoire leave the Palais, the school would cease to be. This was not an extreme position, but an astute realiza- tion of the importance of locale in the minds of Conservatoire patrons and students alike. It was not long before the French press took up the issue, and, not want- ing to be accused of anti-Americanism, was critical of the curator, Bray, and his inflexible stance. Administrators of both the Conservatoire and the Beaux-Arts school cannily played to this when dealing with the press. The head of the Beaux-Arts division gave an interview to the Musical Courier in April 1932 in which he appealed to the pride of the French government: We are keenly aware of the propaganda value of the Fontainebleau school for Americans and are ready to do all in our power to encourage such propaganda in the arts. [ . . . ] We know that Italy, Germany, and Austria have offered The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) � 27 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 27 chateaux generously to American students, and maybe the French government may see its way to do the same thing.23 In New York, Francis Rogers responded that, in order to gain press atten- tion, the French Conseil d’Administration was hurting its own cause by mak- ing the case seem more drastic than it actually was. Rogers, who was well spo- ken in French and in constant contact with the French Conseil, was not fully cognizant of the troubles with the Palais, but he forged ahead in the manner of a man accustomed to bluffing his way into victory. “Recent advises [sic] from your Paris correspondent,” he wrote to the Musical Courier, “have been interpreted by some of your readers as meaning that the French government is likely to deprive the Fontainebleau School of Music of its right to function this summer in the famous old palace. [ . . . ] In the summer of 1933 (June 25 to September 25), all classes will be held in the palace, . . . and most of the female students of music and fine arts will be lodged again in the Louis XV wing.”24 To add insult to injury to the Palais’s staff, though intended to help assuage the difficulties of the male students, who were previously asked to find lodgings in town, the Louis XV wing was opened to male occupancy for the first time in 1934, meaning that more students than ever resided within the Palais. One student wrote of that summer that: One floor of the Palace dormitory-section was assigned to the male students, thus breaking a precedent of long standing. The students certainly liked it; their temporary guardians were satisfied that all was well; and even the Palace guards managed somehow to overcome that feeling fostered in them since the beginning of the American occupation, that they are the keepers of some- body’s harem.25 Such conflicting views from the French and American administrations could not have helped clarify the matter nor speed it to a conclusion, but ulti- mately the government gave in and a truce was reached. Once again, it was couched in ambiguous terms: the Palais would house students until the Con- servatoire had the means to house them elsewhere, and dedicated classroom space was set aside for the school. The middle of the decade found the school at a turning point, stemming from the effects of the depression finally settling in over Europe and coin- ciding changes in faculty and directorship. In June 1934, Maurice Ravel was named general director of the Conservatoire Américain, replacing the retir- ing Charles-Marie Widor. Of his appointment, Le Journal in Paris wrote: 28 � Chapter Two 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 28 Such unanimous regret has been engendered by the departure of Charles- Marie Widor, who was able to give an impetus wholly unique to this school, and who gave it the benefit of his high competence, his great experience and his generous interest, that the nomination of Maurice Ravel to this post is news of a nature to cause rejoicing among all the friends of French music. We do not doubt that our American friends will applaud this news unre- servedly and that they will be grateful to the greatest French musician of today for having shown in so tangible a fashion the interest and sympathy he feels for young Americans. We ourselves have not less reason to be glad of a decision which will have the most fortunate repercussion for French art in America. Everything that can contribute to concentrate the attention of the foreigner upon Maurice Ravel, upon his genius and his works, facilitates at the same time the approach to French thought and art. His style, clear, pure, logical, per- fectly simple, limpid and direct, he inherits from the masters who brought French music to a point of perfection which astonished and delighted the greatest foreign musicians, Bach most of all.26 Hyperbole aside, both the French and American administrations were de- lighted that Ravel had accepted their offer of directorship. It was hoped that having such a distinguished name associated with the Conservatoire would bring to it additional prestige, better students, and, in the lean and hungry years of the mid-1930s, increased enrollment. Apparently, at least, the en- rollment goals were met: student numbers did increase in the late 1930s, with the greatest gain coming between 1936 and 1937 when the school gained fifty-three students. At the same time that Ravel was named as director, the school announced that Robert Casadesus would be returning in the coming summer to head the piano department in place of Isidor Philipp, who intended to retire.27 Casadesus was warmly welcomed to the Conservatoire after an absence of ten years, which he and Gaby had spent touring both as soloists and in two- piano or four-hands partnership. Upon his return to Fontainebleau, Robert Casadesus found a school greatly suffering from the effects of economic de- pression, which hit France that year. The 1934 season yielded only sixteen pianists out a paltry total of thirty-three students, and in 1935, as the de- pression deepened, there were just eleven pianists out of a mere total of twenty-six. In fact, the Alumni Bulletin of March 1935 ran a special article on the first page assuring all that the school would indeed open as usual. To in- crease numbers, alumni were offered discounts on tuition. Casadesus immediately began working to increase recruitment and to im- prove the standing of the Conservatoire’s piano department. He played twice during the season in concerts in the Jeu de Paume. Departing in repertoire The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) � 29 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 29 from Philipp’s beloved Liszt, Casadesus chose to play more French and French-oriented repertoire as well as some German standards. His recitals in the old tennis court included de Séverac’s Le retour des muletiers, Ravel’s Toc- cata, Debussy’s Reflets dans l’eau, Schumann’s Papillons, and Beethoven and Chopin sonatas and scherzos. He also performed his own Quintette with the Quatuor Calvet. Dr. Elmer Tidmarsh, an organ student returning for his sixth Fontainebleau summer, wrote in the Alumni Bulletin that Casadesus “thrilled everyone and was acclaimed one of the world’s great pianists. The piano de- partment is very fortunate in having such a great artist and teacher.”28 Casadesus’s emphasis on French repertoire set a new direction for Conserva- toire students to follow. By preferring to teach works by his own countrymen, Casadesus encouraged the appreciation, study, and performance of more French music, including newly composed music. The programs of student concerts following Casadesus’s initial year bear this out, with more and more performances of French works, culminating in the international broadcast of the Conservatoire’s Fauré festival in 1938. Casadesus was an exceptional professor. Though his choice of repertoire and technique differed from Philipp’s, he maintained the high levels of achievement established by his old mentor. Of the piano students who at- tended the Conservatoire Américain in the 1930s—approximately 412, or just over half of all students—83 received diplomas for Excellence of Execu- tion, many with the coveted mention bien or mention très bien—high praise in- deed.29 An additional sixty-six were granted diplomas for teaching piano. The most qualified pianists at the end of each summer continued to compete for cash prizes sponsored by the piano-making houses of Pleyel, Erard, Stein- way, and Chickering. Selected students also were promoted at recitals at the Salle Pleyel in Paris, and, as radio became an acceptable and practical medium—despite Decreus’s allegation that its “mechanical music” would spell an end to conservatories as a whole—concerts by student prizewinners were broadcast in France and in the United States. The renewed involvement of Casadesus at the Conservatoire was an en- ergizing and crucial event at the school, for it soon became clear that De- creus, Casadesus, and other faculty members would be needed to assist with the administration of the school. Director Maurice Ravel, hoped to be a long-lasting figure at the Conservatoire, was dying. Ravel’s last major works had been his piano concertos, completed in 1930 and 1931. Shortly after their premieres he began to experience aphasia and loss of muscle control, marked by bouts of memory loss and speech difficulties. While for the first time Ravel was receiving admiration and acclaim from both critics and audi- ence, he could enjoy it little. Unable to compose, he told a friend that “his 30 � Chapter Two 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 30 mind was replete with ideas, but, when he wished to write them down, they vanished.”30 This frightening loss of mental agility foreshadowed an event just before his death: when asked for his signature, the composer replied, “I have forgotten how to spell Ravel.” At the time of Ravel’s appointment as director in Fontainebleau, he was already suffering from the brain tumor that would end his life. The Conser- vatoire Américain, full of optimism both for Ravel’s health and the school’s future, knew of his illness but hoped against hope that it was not serious, that a cure could be found, that this great Frenchman could lead the school to never-before-attained brilliance. In the end, the Ravel name aided the Con- servatoire more than did the man himself. He died in Paris in 1937, much of his potential unfulfilled. Decreus, previously appointed resident director and assisted considerably by Casadesus, took on the responsibilities of the full di- rectorship, overseeing day-to-day administrative duties, working with the Conseil d’Administration and the Palais staff, and keeping close watch on educational trends and changes so as to keep the curriculum as up-to-date and useful as possible. As the decade neared its end, individual faculty members and the Conser- vatoire as a whole faced challenges brought about by societal changes and changes in the music world, including the first stirrings of dissatisfaction with its most widely recognized instructor. Nadia Boulanger began to face resistance from students for the first time as some started to view the revered pedagogue as too personally involved with her students and unfair in her treatment of her pupils. David Diamond, who first attended the Conservatoire Américain in 1937, had a very unhappy experience with the famed pedagogue. Boulanger was in the habit of controlling her students’ lives to the smallest detail. She insisted on certain standards of behavior, and there were strictly enforced dress codes for men and women, who were not permitted to wear trousers in her presence.31 She often took it upon herself to make living arrangements and to oversee even the diets of her pupils.32 Diamond, a strong personality himself, disliked Boulanger’s approach. He was angered by having to wait for lessons and being asked to run errands, and felt that Boulanger had not lived up to his expectations.33 Boulanger believed that most of her students—especially the American ones—lacked fundamental training. Many accepted this criticism and used it to push themselves to work harder. Diamond was one rare student who dared to disagree with the master. Boulanger accused the young composer of hypersensitivity, but the contretemps raised another, more unpleasant mat- ter: that of Boulanger’s anti-Semitism. According to Léonie Rosenstiel, Boulanger’s authorized biographer, Boulanger’s exceptionally devout Catholicism included the belief that The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) � 31 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 31 “each individual Jew was morally responsible for the crucifixion of Jesus.”34 Anti-Semitic intolerance was common in France, and Boulanger’s views were no exception. In the interest of not offending students and patrons of the Conservatoire, however, she had to keep a tight rein on the expression of her feelings in this regard. Boulanger accepted many Jewish students at the Conservatoire, but was careful not to take on “too many” at once.35 Earlier students were not aware of Boulanger’s convictions because she was so able to suppress her prejudices in their presence. However, her stance be- came more apparent when, during this period, she became noticeably less enthusiastic about Copland’s music as he explored Jewish themes and the use of Jewish folk materials, and she pointedly refused to play his work Vitebsk (Study on a Jewish Theme). Jewish students continued to attend the Conservatoire, but Boulanger’s prejudices had damaged her reputation, and later pupils knew to expect Boulanger’s Catholic outlook to flavor her de- meanor toward them. Ambitious students were compelling forces in bringing other changes to the Conservatoire’s approaches and curriculum as well. While at the begin- ning of the 1930s, students were encouraged to follow the practice of their professors and become proficient musicians in multiple areas of study, a new push for specialization brought about a reversal of this policy. Musicians who specialized only in performing were able to devote more time to practice, more time to repertoire, and began to displace the technically less brilliant. Pianists in particular began more and more to devote themselves to single composers or periods. Students of the Casadesuses in Fontainebleau may well have felt the pull of specialization in French music: an enormous new reper- toire was being opened up, explored, and promoted by Robert and Gaby, and increasing numbers of their students fell in line behind them. In time, the Conservatoire’s widely taken secondary classes, while never abandoned or neglected entirely, became of less importance for many of the performers. For nonpianists, a summer at the Conservatoire in the late 1930s provided the opportunity to study current French interpretation, widely recognized as differing from German or Russian schools, especially in strings. Cellist Paul Bazelaire, a sought-after soloist, was one especially appreciated professor at the Conservatoire Américain whose students returned year after year.36 For string players, acquiring the French style meant new approaches to sonority, bow angles, left hand articulation, and phrasing. The real acquisition of French style came after the mechanics had been mastered, at which point a student understood the teacher’s point of view and could emulate and inter- pret as an individual, often after leaving Fontainebleau. Pianists also faced changes to their technique: confronted with new etudes and study-pieces, 32 � Chapter Two 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 32 they could be called on to alter anything from pedaling to which arm mus- cles to use in the pursuit of the French sound.37 By the end of the decade, critics could stretch a bit and, if so inclined, make some sort of case for a “Fontainebleau School” of composition. Cop- land’s “American” style, tonal and accessible, was echoed by Thomson’s like- wise audience-pleasing simplicities. Diamond, too, worked within the tonal sphere, as did Talma, Beveridge Webster, and numerous other Conservatoire composers of the twenties and thirties. However, it is difficult to link the composers with any more musically specific stylistic parallels. The one trend cited by Copland and others of Boulanger’s approach toward composers at the school was that she never forced any particular student into a style or method of composition. Instead, through guided work in all areas of musi- cianship, each came to find a unique voice. Boulanger constantly brought in new music for her charges to study, new and important composers for them to meet. Some students, such as Talma, were clearly more influenced by French music in general and that of Lili Boulanger and Fauré in particular. Louise Talma was one of Boulanger’s most committed students, attending Fontainebleau for thirteen years as a student before becoming its first Amer- ican faculty member. Talma had begun attending the Conservatoire Améri- cain in 1926 at the age of twenty and continued studying there well after she had begun a career at Hunter College. She took piano lessons from Isidor Philipp during her first years at the Conservatoire, but Boulanger quickly be- came the most important influence in her musical and personal lives. Her early compositions show Boulanger’s influence very clearly: tonal and neo- classical, they point to Boulanger’s high regard for Stravinsky and her fre- quent use of his works in her teaching. Talma’s works display a solid ground- ing in counterpoint as well, another area in which Boulanger insisted that her students be proficient. During her time as a Fontainebleau student, Talma was developing the style of vocal writing for which she would best be known. In 1938 she was awarded the Stovall Prize, the top honor for com- position students, and a coup for her teacher, who had campaigned for the treatment of women as the equal to men as composers and who was still of- ficially only a professor of harmony.38 The 1939 Conservatoire session opened with the usual fanfare: Mrs. Sto- vall increased the composition competition Stovall Prize award money to 2,000 francs; Fragnaud, enthusiastic as ever, brought Maurice Martenot to Fontainebleau to demonstrate his new instrument, the ether-wave ondes Martenot; concert plans and parties were in the air. Interdepartmental coop- eration between composition and piano brought Hindemith and Stravinsky premieres to Fontainebleau, Stravinsky himself led master classes and, as part The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) � 33 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 33 of the Stovall Prize jury, awarded Talma her second accolade as the Conser- vatoire’s best student composer. Tuition was only 7,000 francs that year, or $190, and students were eligible for the French Railroad Reduction Card, of- fering discounted travel, something many students planned to do at the end of the course. However, just a few hours’ drive from the Jeu de Paume and the Louis XV wing another nation was stirring for war. This would be the last summer for some time that any aspiring American musician would appreciate Fontainebleau’s newly paved streets, bicycle through its woods, eat pastry creations in the gardens, meet fellow students at “Rosa’s Bull”—sculptor Rosa Bonheur’s bronze bull that stood in the center of town, quake with nerves before a harmony class or concert in the tapestry-laden Jeu de Paume, or stand in the shadow of the Horseshoe Staircase. The first era of the Con- servatoire Américain came to an end with the final concerts in September. Posters appeared on village walls across France: “One, entitled ‘Passive De- fense,’ warns people that ‘enemy bombs may be redoubtable,’ and tells them what to do in case of gas attack. The second poster is an avis à la population and instructs civilians what to do with automobile headlights and public and private lamps during blackouts.”39 In many areas surrounding Paris, an- nouncements regarding blackout times were made by boys on bicycles equipped with military drums for the purpose of attracting attention. Air-raid sirens were tested. The American Hospital in Neuilly prepared for emer- gency evacuation, the Louvre closed and sent artworks away to undisclosed safe locations, and in mid-August the government asked for the voluntary evacuation of Paris. The Palais of Fontainebleau closed its doors to visitors and began putting art and artifacts into storage. Students and faculty at the Conservatoire completed the year with frantically hurried exams and final performances, striving to maintain an air of normalcy until the very last days of the session. As the air turned cooler and the students, having packed their trunks with music, Parisian dresses, and counterpoint lessons, sailed home, France went to war. The first era of the Conservatoire Américain ended that September. As a debate emerged about the future of the school during the war, there was ample time to take stock of its accomplishments and shortcomings: at the age of eighteen, the Conservatoire had reached adulthood, and professors and students alike could analyze the school with an eye toward shaping its maturity. “The Fontainebleau School,” wrote Walter Damrosch, “ . . . is one of the few beautiful flowers that has grown from the earth drenched by the Great War.”40 34 � Chapter Two 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 34 As students rushed home from their summer’s idyll in Fontainebleau in advance of the coming war that seemed at once unthinkable and yet in- evitable, professors and alumni, optimistic to their cores, and the most dedi- cated supporters within the town packed up the chateau tightly against the coming storm and looked to the future. The outlook for Damrosch’s beauti- ful flower was more precarious than any brought about by previous crises of finance or conflict with the Palais. In determining the course of action to take, the brief history of the school undoubtedly was considered: was it worth preserving, and at what cost? Was the Conservatoire Américain, that great adventure in international relations and exchange, of value in the rapidly changing world? While the alumni looked forward, those interested in promoting the his- torical and continuing value of the Conservatoire looked back: the Alumni Bulletin of June 1940 reminded its loyal readers of the success of their fellow students with no fewer than five densely printed pages. Boldface type bragged of the achievements of composers Colin McPhee and Aaron Copland, vio- linist Romeo Arsenault, singer Maria Montana, violinist Barbara Lull, and pianists Beveridge Webster and Clara Rabinowitch.41 Despite the disparities of talent and commitment that the school suffered during its first years, the Conservatoire had established an international rep- utation as the training ground of the future greats. A vociferous alumni group based in New York saw to propaganda and publicity, making sure that no mu- sician, be it elementary-school music teacher or major conductor, or, for that matter, no prominent and artistically supportive socialite went without knowledge of the school that took place each summer in the Palais. Fontainebleau students used the name of the Conservatoire Américain to promote careers and impress employers. A diploma from the school in teach- ing or, especially, performance, was a passport to a job in the music world, and a vast network of alumni aided new graduates in making their ways through the maze of managers, concerts, publicity, and teaching contracts. The American composition students of the Conservatoire Américain were perhaps the best-known products of the school’s formative years. How- ever, many trace the similarities and successes of the major composers not to the school itself, but rather to Boulanger, with whom almost all of the com- posers had some form of contact. In time, though, the teaching processes of Boulanger became inextricably linked with Fontainebleau, and the name of the pedagogue called up this cultural synonym. No one could predict the effect that the war would have on the school. The first war had led to its creation; the second would lead to its modernization as The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) � 35 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 35 it passed from youthful exuberance and giddiness to a more mature state. Spending the war in an American exile, the Conservatoire Américain, like many of its contemporaries, came of age in a foreign country, led by a brave few. Notes 1. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, May 1930, 2. 2. Interview with Gaby Casadesus, July 20, 1999, possession of author; interviews with Elsie Watson, various dates July 1999 and July 2000, possession of author. 3. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, January 1932, 4. 4. Janet Flanner, Paris Was Yesterday (New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972), 67. 5. Photograph, undated (1930s), scrapbook of Hilda Berkey, CA/GA. 6. Gaby Casadesus, Mes noces musicales (Paris: Buchet/Chastel, 1989), 40. 7. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, January 1933, 1. 8. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, January 1932, 2. 9. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, January 1939, 2. 10. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, January 1939, 2. 11. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, January 1934, 1. 12. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, January 1939, 2. 13. Letters, Francis Rogers to Maurice Fragnaud, the Musical Courier, various dates, CA/F. 14. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, May 1930, 1, 6–7. 15. Boulanger’s students at Fontainebleau arrived and studied as both registered and unregistered students, with unregistered students frequently having had previous contact with Boulanger. Because of this practice, and because of apparently uneven account-keeping during this period, not all of these names appear on the rolls. 16. Including most of the New York office. Those in administrative positions who had not been students of Boulanger tended to be patrons of the arts with other con- nections to her, through children, relatives, or friends. Examples include Clarence and Marie Brodeur, Gladys Stubenbord, and others. 17. Fontainebleau brochures, 1930–1939, BMF. 18. Marcel Dupré, “The Part to Be Played by the Student at the American Con- servatory–Fontainebleau,” Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, January 1933, 1. 19. Livre des Éleves, CA/F. 20. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, May 1933, 2; also, Elizabeth Saylor, “Coming Home,” possession of author. 21. Letter, Walter Damrosch to Maurice Fragnaud, January 4, 1932, CA/F. 22. Letter, Charles-Marie Widor to the Minister of Education, March 15, 1933, CA/F. 23. Musical Courier, April 22, 1932, Paris. 24. Letter, Francis Rogers to the Musical Courier, undated, CA/F. 36 � Chapter Two 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 36 25. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, March 1935, 1. 26. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, March 1935, 5. 27. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, May 1934, 8. 28. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, March 1935, 1. 29. Between 1930 and 1939, the Conservatoire Américain had 737 students. Doc- ument tracing enrollment c. 1949, CA/F. 30. Arbie Orenstein, Ravel: Man and Musician (New York: Columbia University Press, 1975), 107. 31. Elsie Watson, interview with author, July 1999, possession of author. 32. Interviews with Elsie Watson, July 1999 and July 2000; Jay Gottlieb, July 2000; and Emile Naoumoff, 2000, possession of author. 33. Léonie Rosenstiel, Nadia Boulanger: A Life in Music (New York: Norton, 1982), 280–281. 34. Rosenstiel, Nadia Boulanger, 198. 35. Rosenstiel, Nadia Boulanger, 198. Also demonstrated in correspondence of Boulanger, dating from 1949 to 1978, CA/F. 36. Livre des Éleves, CA/F. 37. Interview with Gaby Casadesus, July 1999, possession of author. Also com- ments of Philippe Bianconi to students, July 2000, recorded by Jessie Fillerup, pos- session of author. 38. Livre des Éleves, 1921–1950s, CA/F. 39. Flanner, Paris Was Yesterday, 222. 40. Document, “The Fontainebleau Schools,” 1984, CA/F. 41. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, June 1940. The Age of Opulence (1929–1939) � 37 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 37 06-549_Ch02.qxd 10/30/06 6:31 AM Page 38 C H A P T E R T H R E E � Interlude 1: Elizabeth Saylor on “Coming Home”: An Account of the Session of 1939 Here I was, a year out of graduate school, sailing to Europe in June with my sis- ter Harriet for a summer’s study in music at the American Conservatory in Fontainebleau, France. After nine days on the ocean on the Holland-America ship Veendam, we landed in England. We finally reached London, and while at lunch in Paddington station we saw a squadron of uniformed, helmeted English soldiers march across the waiting room. We had an instant of the hor- rible realization of the proximity of hostile nations and perhaps—war. [There were] several soldiers on the train from Paris to Fontainebleau. In Fontaine- bleau I found my pension and my hostess, Mme Garzan. She was the eldest of four generations living in the large three-story home. Tiny, energetic, dressed always in deep mourning, she was up at six daily to sweep off the sidewalk with her home-made broom of twigs, and to carry a pitcher of hot water up to each bedroom. There at Mme Garzan’s I met up with my dear friend Lib Rhodes, also a music major from the University of Wisconsin. My room was on the third floor with running cold water in the wash basin, and a closet concealed in the wall by the wallpaper, which went right on over it. Meals were in the school restaurant; classes and practice rooms in the palace itself. In the long twilight after dinner we often walked in the gardens behind the palace watching the swans on the pond and admiring the long av- enues of trees pruned and shaped so that they looked like the eaves on houses. My organ teacher, Nadia Boulanger, had not arrived, and after one piano lesson my piano teacher, Gaby Casadesus, announced that she would be gone to Paris for ten days! Deeply disappointed I practiced further the 39 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 39 things I had been preparing for three months. A weekend trip to Paris in- cluded a visit to the Opera after dinner at the Café de la Paix, where I had my first delightful peach Melba and enjoyed dinner for 18 francs (45 cents). At the Opera, where we heard “Damnation of Faust,” I particularly enjoyed the promenade between acts, where everyone walked slowly counter-clock- wise, getting mild exercise and admiring other people’s clothes. July 1. France warned Germany that she would carry out her alliance ob- ligations to Poland. Back to school on Monday and my first lesson with Nadia Boulanger. She was perfectly marvelous. Devout Catholic. A very strong, mobile face, beau- tiful when she spoke or played. Mannish clothes, quite long skirts and flat- heeled men’s shoes. Always in half-mourning, all her clothes were in black, gray, or white. Iron gray hair softly waved and done up into a simple knot in back. Rimless glasses on a silver chain. Her mouth turned down oddly at the corners, but she had a lovely rare smile. Bastille Day, July 14! It was a real celebration for me, for Mme Casadesus arrived for my lesson with her: a whole hour! She assigned two new works: Beethoven’s Sonata Opus 110 and Chopin’s C minor Nocturne. She was so inspiring. She was extremely pretty, with coal black wavy hair, very white teeth and a heart-shaped face. She wore adorable clothes, mostly pink and navy. She had a beautiful figure and was the mother of two boys, the eldest of whom was eleven. Her interpretation was fiery and emotional, and she had tremendous power in her broad, spatulate fingers. One time she took my hand in her large one and crooned over it, “Poor, poor.” Another daily con- cert finished the school day. None of these continental artists played from memory. A formal dinner in the school restaurant was followed by much champagne and the annual sing on the horseshoe staircase. A great crowd of townsfolk had gathered despite the wet streets and walks drenched by the af- ternoon downpour. Costumed professionals from Paris danced on a platform erected in front of the staircase. All the students then marched onstage in couples and sang, “There’s a Long, Long Trail A-Winding,” and what a long trail it was on those cobblestones! Many other songs followed, then the “Star-Spangled Banner” on which the audience rose, and finally our most distinguished soprano sang “The Marseillaise.” The singing was followed by a dance. In came a detachment of 10 or so officers of the army, hand-picked by the Fontainebleau school heads to eke out the male population. Very nice fellows and a marvelous party. I was escorted home by the officer who lives at Mme Garzan’s in the room next to mine. I like the officers, even if they do wear their spurs dancing. 40 � Chapter Three 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 40 The very next day was my first piano lesson with M. Casadesus. I was still feeling very relaxed from the champagne, but with a fierce headache. I had some trouble with the Bach, and finally turned to my teacher and said, “Trop de champagne hier soir.” At which point he threw back his head and laughed and laughed. The French think it’s wonderful that we celebrate the Four- teenth so heartily. Monsieur was tall, blondish and graying. He looked like a prosperous businessman, not handsome, round face and gray eyes and full lips. A very reserved manner matched his restrained classical interpretation, with brilliant contrast between his pearly soft finger work and sonorous, heavy touch. He was grand: more sensitive than his wife in a quieter way. She was fireworks but I felt she would do wonders for my technique, and he for interpretation. When we went to a movie we saw George Brent and Olivia de Havilland in “Gold Is Where You Find It.” It seemed funny to hear them speaking their lines in French. A companion newsreel showed French fortifications in Africa and forty minutes of camels: walking, running, sitting, rising, being branded, drinking and eating thorn bushes—and, well, camels. One of our next trips was the Sunday we went to Versailles. To the Nep- tune fountains we went, where the famous Fête de Nuit was to be held. A ballet group was poled across the reflecting pool to the pavilion platform and performed a variety of dances until nightfall, about 10 o’clock, when the beautiful fountain display began around the elaborate Neptune group of stat- uary. Colored lights played on the fountains, and then came the most spec- tacular fireworks I have ever seen. Back at school the following day I saw about a dozen bombers flying south in formation over the palace. Then Lib and I visited the little theatre deco- rated by Napoleon. The stage floor actually slopes, so that there is real mean- ing to “upstage” and “downstage.” The front rows of blue velvet seats were surpassed in elegance by the first gallery, where the emperor himself sat. Here were the most gorgeous quilted upholstered chairs matching the golden yel- low brocade satin walls. Each succeeding balcony was less lavishly decorated, and in the top gallery, behind oval gilt grills, sat the specially invited hoi pol- loi. This balcony went completely around, so that although the spectators might not see the production they could hear it, and above all, view royalty! July 21. France again warned the German government. Rich flaky croissants for breakfast were a far cry from the alternative, toast. The French method of toasting was to hack off at least an inch slice of bread and burn it slightly on both sides. The bread is amazing: thin loaves at least a yard long. One saw bakers’ boys bicycling along the streets with huge Interlude 1: Elizabeth Saylor (1939) � 41 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 41 wicker hampers fastened to the handlebars and naked loaves of bread stick- ing straight up out of the baskets. I saw a traveler on the Paris train open his suitcase, pull a loaf of bread out from his clothes and proceed to break off a piece and eat it. A few days later Lib and I went to the open market. Fun, but the fish smell clung to my clothes for hours. It was a very gay and busy outdoor market: long tables set out, each stall covered from sun and rain. Vegetables right next to laces and notions. And fish. Delicious soft cheeses packed in layers with straw between, a band (mostly drums) playing out in front. Clothing, brooms, buttons, fruit, fish (eyes and all), poultry and meat out in the open air and flies, according to the French custom, honey, shoes, pastries, sweets, flowers, everything. And fish—salted, fresh, dried. I bought some buttons— glass and pearl. A most encouraging lesson with M. Casadesus on Friday in which he said, “You are a very good musician,” made my practice hours worthwhile. Then came a Sunday trip to Chartres through lovely old French towns where grass and flowers had rooted on housetops between the tiles and were actually growing on the pointed roofs. Organ music filled the church and rolled back and forth as we sat in the nave for the service, looking up toward the altar with the five tall slender windows filled with exquisite glass. It was a unique experience to attend mass in this marvelous 12th century edifice built to the glory of God. The schedule at the conservatory was a weekly organ lesson with Boulanger and another with M. Panel; a weekly lesson with M. Casadesus and two with Mme. Having had only two years of organ I found my back- ground woefully inadequate, a fact which Boulanger discovered immediately. She had no patience with less than perfection and said to me after a poor les- son, “Tell M. Panel that your teacher wept in your lesson!” In addition to pri- vate lessons and classes I was practicing organ two hours a day and piano four hours. Terribly discouraged, I wavered between studying only with M. Panel and dropping organ altogether. The latter finally won and I began to con- centrate on piano alone. On a Sunday afternoon two of us bicycled through a lovely woodsy path to the practice field where the army drills every morning. Camouflage, machine- gun targets and piles of old rusty shells made it a horrible place. A long talk with Mme Casadesus helped me to decide what to do. I told her I enjoyed teaching but loved playing for people and wanted to study. She volunteered that with a year’s study on technique I’d be equipped and ready to concertize! My head was in the clouds all day. I had written to Isidor Philipp in Paris requesting an interview, and in that afternoon’s mail came 42 � Chapter Three 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 42 his answer making an appointment for Monday the 21st of August! Another wonderful lesson with M. Casadesus, who had just been elected to the Legion of Honor. And then he said he and his wife were off for a week’s concert tour in Holland. While they were gone I had a great weekend in Paris with my sis- ter, who had completed her tour of Scandinavia and was on her way home. At the American Express office I had the most curious experience: lots of Americans were milling around and I couldn’t think of a whole English sen- tence, but instead dozens of French expressions and phrases were running through my head. I went to the Holland-America office and cancelled my passage home. Back in Fontainebleau I obtained permission for Harriet to attend a class of Mlle. Boulanger’s. After Mlle’s amazing piano rendition of Bach’s organ chorale preludes which are written on three staves for two hands and two feet, a fellow student made the immortal remark, “I don’t see how she does it, and with only four hands, too.” Before Harriet left, three of us took the little horse and carriage into the early morning woods, so still and motionless, not a sign of a bird or squirrel. We saw the “Bouquets du Roi,” trees pruned to have long, long trunks, and foliage forming a high ceiling above. Truly the trees in clusters looked for all the world like bouquets of long-stemmed flowers: the king’s bouquets. We took pictures of the old driver and his darling horse with white crocheted and tasseled ear-covers to discourage flies. August 15. The French warned the German government for the 3rd time. At last the 21st arrived and I went to Paris to register at the embassy, only to find that I couldn’t do so without passport, three photos and 12,000 francs for an identity card. Then on to Philipp’s home, where I sat on a park bench opposite the house until the appointed time of 11:30. M. Philipp was very kind to me. I needn’t have worried. He talked to me immediately of the war scare, about which he was very pessimistic and melancholy. He asked me to play for him, so I began with the Beethoven Opus 110 and them played the Prelude to the Bach G Major French Suite. He said, “You are very talented,” and when I told him that I wanted to continue with the Casadesus until they left on concert tour, he said I could come back any time for lessons! He seemed more than willing to take me on, despite the fact that he has retired from active teaching. I returned to Fontainebleau again walking on air. A vicious attack of intestinal flu laid me low for a week and demolished both practicing and piano lessons. Finally I went to a French woman doctor who fixed me up with drugs and diet. When I returned to Mme Garzan’s I re- ceived a letter from home via the clipper saying come home. Period. The last Interlude 1: Elizabeth Saylor (1939) � 43 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 43 straw after all the illness, so I broke down and cried in my room. All my beau- tiful plans had gone to pot. In late August von Ribbentrop went to Moscow and on August 23 Russia and Germany signed a non-aggression pact which secretly included parti- tioning Poland between them and placed the Baltic states within the Russian sphere of influence. Tension was growing in Fontainebleau with more soldiers in the streets, the embassy in Paris advising tourists to leave and everyone wondering if it was true that Hitler would take Danzig, and France and England combine to aid Poland’s resistance. Past the church in town I saw bills posted about the draft and mobilization. Certain ages had already been called—a new group last night. Another bill listed requirements of personal equipment needed by each draftee. A six-hour blackout was announced for the night, beginning at ten o’clock. At Mme Garzan’s I was greeted by a wire from home: “Sail Sep- tember second. Imperative. Dad.” It had been sent at 8:10 this morning. I wished that my parents were not worrying. Strangely enough, though there was a good deal of tension I was not afraid. And the French were not par- ticularly hysterical—or even excited. This was the third mobilization they had had in a year, and as someone said, “The situation has been like a smol- dering volcano for ten years, and after all one can’t remain in a state of hys- teria for a decade.” August 25. The French premier announced that France would support Poland in a German attack, and the same day Great Britain signed a treaty of alliance with Poland. Mussolini declared he could not go to war just then, so Hitler countermanded the orders for the offensive against Poland. I sent a wire to the Holland-America office asking for a reply to my letter requesting a renewal of my booking or another on the second or fifth of Sep- tember. By this time I was really frightened and could feel it in the pit of my stomach. It was such a grim feeling—not excitement or thrill, but rather sor- row and a fatalistic attitude of stern determination. We heard more and more sad farewells: the owner of the Launoy next door, a World War widow, today sent off her only son. Three more divisions of the army were mobilized today. Of the ten, 1, 3, 4, 5, and 6 had been requisitioned. I received a wire this evening, thank the Lord, from Holland-America: “Trying to get space. Will notify you soonest possible.” Meanwhile there came the news that the big ocean liners were free to turn around and return in case of war, so long as they were outside the country’s three-mile limit. The Bremen had just done so. Heaven only knew what be- came of her passengers and the mail on board—delayed days, possibly weeks. 44 � Chapter Three 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 44 Then came the news that there might be trouble getting to Rotterdam to catch the boat if the frontiers were closed—and with the altered sailing dates no one knew when the boats would leave. The Americans at the restaurant were a pretty worried-looking bunch of students. The franc had been steady at 37.75 to the dollar all summer, when it suddenly dipped to 40 on August 26. It was impossible to get a telephone call through to Paris, so everyone resorted to wires, which were very inex- pensive and fairly quick. Sunday morning Mme Garzan woke me with the news that my neighbor, the officer in the room next door, had been con- scripted and left early that morning. And that afternoon was my final exam. Talk about tension: either I worried about the war or else dithered about that final. All my professors were in a semicircle around a large table next to the piano; one looked directly into my face. After playing the Bach, Beethoven, and a Moszkowski etude for them I was questioned in piano pedagogy. I was limp as a rag when I came out of the examining room after twenty-five minutes of a fifteen-minute exam. After tea a group of us went out to the convergence of Rue de France and Rue Royale to see the requi- sition of horses and trucks. Private saddle horses were being tested for offi- cers’ use and were branded with numbers on the hoofs. Cars and delivery trucks were being tested, and then white numbers were stenciled on the driver’s door. All the American boys in the Conservatory had been re- quested to turn in their bicycles to the shops where they had rented them, to trade them for girls’ bicycles! Monday morning I received both a teacher’s and a performer’s certificate as well as a solfège certificate, the only one granted in the school! My friend Lib returned from the weekend in Paris really frightened. She told many sto- ries of the hysteria in Paris and was determined to leave the next day for Paris and go to Rotterdam on Wednesday to wait for the Noordam sailing on Sat- urday. I envied her passage terribly and could have torn my hair to think I had cancelled mine. But I still thought it wasn’t necessary to leave so soon. August 29. Hitler demanded that the Polish negotiator with full powers present himself on the following day. Up at seven o’clock Tuesday to catch the train for Paris for my first lesson with Philipp. A wonderful lesson with him. I had brought in several problems in technique and he was kind enough to give me over an hour, although my train had been late so that I arrived twenty minutes after the appointed hour. He called it “an electric lesson” because we covered so much ground in so lit- tle time. In the subway I saw two Negro women well dressed in black with long cylinders of khaki-colored metal slung over their shoulders. Gas masks. I joined the long line at Holland-America at 1:30. An hour later along came Interlude 1: Elizabeth Saylor (1939) � 45 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 45 Lib! As we stood there talking she overheard a young red-haired woman frantically trying to get rid of a passage on the Noordam! Lib shrieked at me and I rushed up to the redhead. God be praised: the doorman let us through the crowd and we got into the office. The young woman was a Vassar student from Denver and had a passage on the Manhattan, leaving sooner, and wanted to cancel her Noordam sailing. I walked out simply weak with relief, but with a great many last-minute things to do, for the Holland-American agent had advised leaving on the morning train—if it went—the same Rot- terdam train Lib was taking. The train was chartered for the passengers of a special ship leaving tomorrow evening from Amsterdam. The problem was to get it through the border, for France had now closed her border. Bought laces and gloves for gifts and barely caught the train back to school: an hour’s ride of headache and frantic planning before reaching Fontainebleau for the last time. Three girls at my table at dinner took over for me and had me packed in twenty minutes. I arranged for Mme Garzan’s nephew to return my rented bicycle and for my three friends to forward the music I had left at the chateau in my practice room. August 30. Poland ordered general mobilization. Up at five o’clock for dawn and sunrise over the chateau. I left a gift for Mme Garzan and stole out of the house at six with my tremendously heavy suitcases. Fortunately the conductor helped me on and off the tram, and I caught the 6:48 to Paris with time to spare. In the crowd at the Gare du Nord I found Lib, who had stayed overnight in Paris and we breakfasted together in the station during an hour and a half wait for the border train. We found a compartment and settled back, tremendously relieved to be actually on the train. The German steamship lines had cancelled all their sailings. No won- der everyone was stampeding the Holland-American office in Paris. Consid- ering the difficulty in getting the train across the border, we had very little trouble: no suitcase searching, and just had to show our passports two or three times. At last, Rotterdam. We found an inexpensive hotel without trouble and gladly fell into bed. August 31. At the urging of Great Britain, Poland designated a negotiator with Germany, but without full powers. After registering our tickets at the steamship office we took the bus to Amsterdam. This country was completely mobilized and yet the people seemed happier than the French. Beautiful gray-green army uniforms. Sailors in black uniforms with tiny caps and 9-inch long streamers. September 1. At dawn German troops entered Polish territory. At breakfast we learned that Danzig was now part of the Reich. At the American Express office we learned that Warsaw was being bombarded by 46 � Chapter Three 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 46 the Germans, and over the radio heard Hitler’s speech of the day translated into English. According to him, Germany was warring on Poland in self- defense to uphold her honor, liberty and justice. With mixed feelings I sent a cable home: “Sailing today Noordam. Betty.” We boarded the Noordam, which was scheduled to sail at noon on Saturday, Sept. 2. Noon, September 2. England and France sent their 24-hour ultimatum to Germany to withdraw her troops from Poland. Noon came and went and still we lay in port, the crew loading cargo and lettering all afternoon “NOORDAM—HOLLAND” in eight-foot letters on the sides of the boat and painting three broad stripes alongside: red, white, and blue. If submarines couldn’t see that, we were sunk, literally. It was nerve-wracking waiting for the ship to cast off, as Germany’s 24 hours dripped slowly on. At last taking advantage of the tide, the crew pulled up anchor and cast off at seven and we were soon out of the English Channel. Eleven a.m. Sunday, September 3. England declared war on Germany and mined the channel in fulfillment of the guarantee it had earlier given to Poland. That afternoon during a very solemn boat drill we were told that meat, bread, water, and medicine for two days were provided in each lifeboat. In case of fire we were to stay in the cabin until the steward came to relay the captain’s order. At five-thirty I saw my first battleship too far away to deter- mine its nationality. France entered the war at five p.m. September 4. Hitler forbade all German attacks on French and British passenger steamers even when these were sailing in convoy, possibly with the American public opinion in mind. Next morning we learned that the Bremen was captured the night before, and now came the report of the first torpedoing of an English passenger ship by the Germans. Ninety miles off Glasgow a Cunard ship had been sunk on Sunday, carrying many Americans, the Athenia. We were now unable to tell about weather ahead, for no ships would give out radio messages with their location for fear of submarines. An English freighter was torpedoed in the Bay of Biscay. [At last] we saw the lovely row of lights along Long Island and the Jones Beach tower. I climbed up into my bunk for the last time and watched the lights through the two portholes. Coney Island went by with its Ferris wheel and blue neon lights. Channel buoys floated by frequently with their red lights and warning clangs. Then our vessel stopped for the night. Early that morning came the wonderful sight of dawn and sunrise behind the Manhat- tan skyline. A thin little crescent moon and the morning star faded away as the dawn became rosier. But best of all was the Statue of Liberty. How many Interlude 1: Elizabeth Saylor (1939) � 47 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 47 of us on board greeted her with tears in our eyes, now that the long strain was over and we were safe again, for then we knew we were coming home. Note Extracted from Elizabeth Saylor’s essay, “Coming Home,” offered to alumni in the Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, April 1993, possession of author. 48 � Chapter Three 06-549_Ch03.qxd 10/30/06 6:32 AM Page 48 P A R T I I EXILE AND WAR 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:33 AM Page 49 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 50 C H A P T E R F O U R � At Home in Exile (1940–1945) Exactly as Elizabeth Saylor relates, after the last students had hurriedly de- parted from Fontainebleau, France declared war on Germany in September 1939. The lack of military preparedness led to stunning defeats, culminating nine months later with the German army’s capture of Paris on June 14, 1940. The French were ready to capitulate. Despite offers from Winston Churchill of an alliance with Britain, Marshal Pétain signed an armistice treaty with Germany. Much of France was occupied, including the Palais de Fontaine- bleau. In the months immediately preceding and following France’s defeat, French and other European artists and composers fled the continent for the United States, among them Bartók, Hindemith, Martinu, Milhaud, Schoen- berg, Stravinsky, and, albeit reluctantly, Nadia Boulanger. Walter Damrosch called an executive meeting of the school’s American committee in April 1940 to order to address the worsening condition in Eu- rope and the future of the Conservatoire Américain. The meeting ended with the passing of several resolutions. Perhaps the most emphatic began, “In view of the situation in Europe, and trusting in the ultimate victory of the Allies, France, and England, and as evidence of our concern and sympathy with France, the American Committee will carry on during the intermediate period, cooperating with the Fontainebleau Alumni Association to keep the spirit of Fontainebleau alive.”1 The spirit of Fontainebleau’s American alumni and French professors initially appeared to be only monetarily based, with little planning for the actual continuation of the school’s function as an educational institution. 51 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 51 Benefit concerts for both the school and for the war effort were easily or- ganized and executed, and this ability to raise money through performances was certainly an asset in aiding the beleaguered Gallic populace and the Allied soldiers stationed in France. Boulanger began a war relief fund that she herself directed, which received $125 from Fontainebleau alumni and supporters in its first months of operation.2 She remained in France until late 1940, performing benefit concerts and using her car to drive people out of Paris and away from war zones. Of one of her concerts she wrote, “I conducted the other day an orchestra of soldiers at the front. You can’t imagine—all these men in uniform, some of them coming down from the front lines, and an atmosphere of religious attention: Mozart, Bach—and would you believe it, Debussy’s ‘Dieu, qu’il la fait bon regarder’ heard in ab- solute silence, enthusiastic[ally].”3 Boulanger may have been surprised by the positive reaction to the performances of art music, but the appreciation was genuine, and she concertized with some regularity for military groups. However, the unexpected joys of such concerts were eventually outweighed by the fact that such performances could no longer be considered safe, and Boulanger accepted a three-year contract from the Longy School of Music in Boston.4 There, too, she held benefit concerts for France, often sending her own fees to relief agencies. At the same time that Boulanger was conducting in France for war relief, Robert and Gaby Casadesus were securing a location and making the neces- sary arrangements for the Conservatoire to operate in exile. Clearly for many former students and faculty members, playing benefit concerts and writing checks to the Alumni Association was not enough in the way of preserving the spirit of Fontainebleau, and those alumni, along with a number of inter- ested new students, made their view known to the Casadesuses. Gaby Casadesus recalled that she and her husband had been performing (he on his sixth tour of the country) in the United States and were persuaded to stay until conditions in France had improved. “The students asked us to stay,” she said. “They were the ones who wanted to continue the classes.”5 As the Casadesuses were alone in this endeavor, being the only Conservatoire fac- ulty outside of France, the school would operate as a series of piano master classes only. Should the war continue at length, expansion to something akin to the school’s normal proportions and range might be considered, although this was initially regarded as a doubtful outcome. The Casadesuses found that St. George’s, a private boys’ school situated in Newport, Rhode Island, was willing to house the Conservatoire during the summer of 1940. St. George’s proved to be most generous in its support of the conservatoire-in-exile. John Frothingham, a director of St. George’s, saw to it that the Conservatoire 52 � Chapter Four 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 52 Américain was allowed full run of the stately red-brick buildings and expan- sive grounds bordering the sea. Students and faculty had separate rooms, practice studios, and ample classrooms. The school was also granted use of the chapel, equipped with an organ, which the students were encouraged to use, the library, a lounge, a gymnasium, a concert salon, and gardens. In addition to the students who had urged the Casadesuses to hold a ses- sion of the Conservatoire, alumni of the music school showed great interest in the school’s presence in America. Alumni had always been welcome at Fontainebleau, and it was a tradition among them to return to Fontainebleau on a regular basis for refresher courses, to give concerts, or just to visit. With this interest from alumni, the stateside Conservatoire Américain curriculum was expanded from only piano master classes into a more rounded experi- ence. Longtime student and Boulanger protégée Louise Talma signed on to teach solfège and music history, and Marthe Pillois agreed to teach French and diction. The Baldwin piano company supplied instruments at a reduced cost. Despite the war, the Conservatoire opened on July 8, 1940, for a pro- jected two months of intensive study for piano students and alumni. The school continued at St. George’s in 1941, where “the usual round of lessons, master classes, picnics, [and] swimming parties” continued far from danger. Students gave and hosted war-relief concerts during that year’s six-week term, cut short of the originally planned eight or nine weeks by Robert Casadesus’s concert schedule. Repertoire was, as usual, heavily French, with Chopin, Liszt, and Czerny afforded special status as worthy foreigners. Many musical organizations in Allied nations shunned works by German com- posers during the war, but the Casadesuses, while emphasizing French reper- toire as a matter of course, seem to have restricted their students’ repertoire choices very little, if at all, and their own concerts continued to include works from the standard German repertoire. In 1942, when the beaches of Rhode Island were needed for military ex- ercises, the Casadesuses once again relocated the Conservatoire. This time the school settled into Great Barrington, Massachusetts, not far from Tan- glewood.6 Gaby and Robert Casadesus continued their piano master classes there in a Renaissance-style mansion, hosting “les plus grands musiciens du moment” each summer. Casadesus student William Eves wrote: The setting was beautiful and quiet, and inspiring for the study of music which in its performance would be imbued with the character and atmosphere of el- egance and natural beauty. The mansion itself contained a fine concert hall with stage and atrium with black onyx-type floors and replacements of marble pillars on all sides. There was the “Versailles Room,” with gilded fireplace, At Home in Exile (1940–1945) � 53 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 53 where Robert gave his lessons. Across the atrium was the Chinese room, which was Madame’s studio. On the outside of the house were two terraces overlook- ing the expansive lawns with their pool and “jet d’eau.” Against the woods at the far end of the pool was a facade of a Greek temple for ornamentation. The gentle splashing of the fountain made a refreshing sound effect, and the pool had another sound effect: from an old bull frog which made an occasional croak in the night; Casadesus referred to him as “Beethov.”7 However, not all aspects of the summers were as plush as the surroundings. When neither Baldwin nor Steinway could deliver pianos to the new loca- tion, the task of finding enough instruments fell to Gaby Casadesus, who canvassed New England’s colleges, music schools, performers, and music lovers, borrowing pianos for the students. Students, including pianist Charles Rosen, who attended in 1942, lived in crowded quarters in the mansion, sev- eral to each room. A handful assisted the Casadesuses or worked for their studies by taking care of secretarial responsibilities, housekeeping, and wait- ing tables on the terrace, which served as the restaurant.8 Despite the relative hardships of running the school at Great Barrington, the Fontainebleau-like atmosphere of postdinner concerts prevailed. Eves wrote that after meals: The group of pianists, guests, and the Casadesus began to drift back into the big house, at the cue of the lead by Monsieur and Madame and their friends, two of whom were Mr. and Mrs. Zino Francescatti, he the violinist. Now gath- ered and settled comfortably into the concert hall, the tuning of the violin . . . became the last call to hush, and then the music of the great piano and vi- olin sonatas commenced. Music of Beethoven, Franck, Fauré, Ravel, and De- bussy was augmented by Bach sonatas for unaccompanied violin, and special treats were the Poème by Chausson and the Introduction and Allegro by Saint- Saëns, with orchestral parts having been transcribed for piano.9 In addition to their serious concerts, students also presented an annual “show,” in which they performed skits, dances, and imitations of their professors. Jean Casadesus, the eldest child of Robert and Gaby, contributed his skill at playing jazz and boogie-woogie, and Robert was known to join in on renditions of “Tea for Two” and “Misty,” to the delight of the audience. At the end of each session all present gave a concert for war-relief funds or for the local hospital. By 1943 the Conservatoire in exile had some forty piano students, an im- pressive number given the financial situation of the day, the uncertainty of each summer’s location, and the full-time faculty of two. Dividing the stu- dents by level, Robert Casadesus generally taught the more advanced pianists 54 � Chapter Four 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 54 in the style of a master class and Gaby provided more detailed lessons for the intermediate artists. This pair of dedicated teachers was sufficiently busy that a nurse had to be hired to watch after the newest Casadesus child, Thérèse, who had been born in 1942. In addition to their teaching, the Casadesuses frequently played for French Relief concerts, both as soloists and in two- piano appearances. Gaby Casadesus paired with Albert Einstein in a per- formance for British Relief in 1942, and Robert often played his own works with other noted French musicians for similar benefits. Notably lacking in the continuation of the Conservatoire was Nadia Boulanger. Although she had missed the first year of the conservatoire-in- exile’s operations by staying in France, she was invited to teach during the second year of the school’s residence in Newport. Citing what she felt was the intention of the Casadesuses to use the Conservatoire as a school prima- rily for pianists, she declined to attend an organizational meeting of the school earlier that spring, and made plain that she would not participate in the school’s American existence. Because it was clear that by asking her to join them the Casadesuses were emphatically not planning the kind of piano-only school she ostensibly protested, Boulanger appears to have been concealing her real reason for not wanting to participate, and her correspon- dence with her former students confirms this. Letters written by her New York Conservatoire office confidantes suggest that she felt a kind of resent- ment at her lack of a leadership role in the school’s day-to-day affairs and at the role of the Casadesus family in managing the school’s operations.10 Much of this sentiment can be traced to the differences between Boulanger’s status within the musical world at large and her position at the Conservatoire. Having grown accustomed to celebrity status in the United States, Boulanger was not celebrated as much in her home country, where instead of being a sensation, she was viewed rather as any other member of the musical establishment. Composers and pianists from the Americas and from Eastern Europe often idolized their teacher, and she contributed a significant number of students to the enrollment rosters of the Conservatoire. However, she was treated as the equal of her colleagues in Fontainebleau rather than as superior to the rest of the faculty, receiving no higher pay or position than any other full-time professor. Certainly her stagnant position as professor of harmony—rather than composition—and the implications that that role had as a subordinate position within the composition department must have been a disappointment to Boulanger, whose abilities and fame had led her to per- formances as the guest conductor of major American orchestras and as a guest lecturer. Instead of working with the Casadesuses and the alumni asso- ciation to continue the classes of the Conservatoire during the war, At Home in Exile (1940–1945) � 55 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 55 Boulanger chose to spend her first American summer visiting former students who were sisters at a convent in Sinsinawa, Wisconsin, making plans to teach at several schools within the United States. Although she did make arrangements to teach at the Longy School of Music in Boston where her pupil Melville Smith was the director, and the Peabody Conservatory of Mu- sic in Baltimore, where Reginald Stewart, yet another former student, was in charge, Boulanger’s approach was problematic. She summarily dismissed her Peabody students as ignorant, and demanded complete access to Longy’s fi- nancial and artistic planning sessions, as well as a salary raise beyond what had been agreed on. Both of her former students found themselves in awk- ward situations, resulting in what Rosenstiel describes as “one of Nadia’s greatest fears”: losing control.11 Finally, citing fatigue from her prior teaching schedule, Boulanger spent the remainder of the war in California. Although she continued to teach privately and made trips to Wisconsin to work with the Dominicans at Edgewood College, she did not entertain the idea of a rap- prochement with the Casadesuses or consider teaching at the Conservatoire- in-exile. Her influence in the Conservatoire’s sphere was thus diminished over the period of the war. Most Conservatoire professors remained in France after the occupation, some for the entire duration of the war. During the German occupation, musical events were subject to censorship. Many musicians, including Con- servatoire cello teacher Paul Bazelaire, were prohibited from public con- certizing for refusing to submit to such draconian conditions. Others, such as singer Gilberte Lecompte, toured in neutral Switzerland and were hired by the Entertainments National Service Association (ENSA)—the British equivalent of the USO—for performances in England. Pianist Isidor Philipp fled Paris by automobile on the very morning the German army de- scended on it, braving “the terrors of the highways,” as the Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin described it. Others musicians were mobilized prior to the German occupation, and Jacqueline Bickford, an interpreter for the com- bined Conservatoire Américain and École des Beaux Arts, was interned for the duration of the war. In Fontainebleau itself, as in Newport and Great Barrington, something quite extraordinary was happening. The American-educated Lucie Delé- cluse, first a nurse to the Conservatoire and later the secretary to the direc- tor’s office, recorded the events in her diary, later published in the Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin: The German General Headquarters established its office in Fontainebleau and for several months we were “Ville Fermée”; nobody could come into 56 � Chapter Four 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 56 Fontainebleau from the outside, and we could not go about in the vicinity without a special “Ausweis” [permit]; a curfew was imposed. The town was reeking with staff officers. Von Brautchitz, von Keitel, von Milch, and many others were stationed in or about the town, changing residences every few days. Such clicking of heels, saluting and goosestepping. The last seemed such a ludicrous performance to the French that they could hardly refrain from laugh- ing outright, faces twitching to hide the amusement going on inside. Of course, the Palace was occupied, but all the furniture, tapestries, carpets and works of art had been evacuated in 1939 to central France where they still are. The Conservatory wing was turned into offices; quite a few demonstrations went on in the Palace and on the grounds. Hitler came to confer with his commanders, but so secretly that only the big heads knew of it, and he left before the be- ginning of a celebration which was to take place in the Palace. Seems he did not feel so very secure, even among his adoring countrymen.12 Delécluse was issued a rare permit that allowed her to enter the Palais in order to speak with the Frenchmen still on guard there and record the daily goings-on inside the school’s home. German troops installed antiaircraft and machine guns on the Palais roofs and Horseshoe Staircase, a sacrilege to Fontainebleau’s citizens. While the Frenchmen convinced the occupying of- ficers that the chateau would receive protection as an historical monument only if unarmed, and the big guns were moved to more discreet locations, nothing could remove the enormous Nazi flags in the courtyard and on the roof. Guards of the French museum inside the chateau were able to clandes- tinely place a very small French flag on the roof as well, clearly showing Fontainebleau’s defiant spirit and preventing the chateau from becoming a bombing victim. At the onset of Fontainebleau’s occupation, more than twelve thousand troops were garrisoned in the town, the usual population of which was fifteen thousand. The five hundred soldiers who remained after the initial invasion devastated the village, vandalizing buildings, looting homes, and displacing and occasionally arresting citizens. Among those arrested was the mayor of Fontainebleau’s sister town of Avon.13 He died in a prison camp in Hamburg. Other victims from the immediate area included five monks, one of whom was Admiral Thierry d’Argenlieu, a retired Free French naval commander; thirty-seven members of Fontainebleau’s resistance group; and several young men and women. Most were executed without benefit of trial, and their fates were unknown until months after the end of the war. Twenty-three trainloads of furniture, art, and other valuables—even clothes and shoes—left Fontainebleau on convoys bound for Germany, never to be recovered. Delécluse, concerned that property of the Conservatoire At Home in Exile (1940–1945) � 57 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 57 Américain also was being stolen, conspired with one of the French Palais guards: together they removed many Conservatoire belongings, including doc- uments, linens, mattresses, and silver. Delécluse and the Palais manager hid all of this behind a false wall built by French staff workers overnight between the Conservatoire’s Rosa Bonheur Room and the offices of the Beaux-Arts office. Although the entire building was searched thoroughly before visits by digni- taries, the hiding space—and the school’s property—was never discovered. The music of the Conservatoire Américain’s music library had an even more dramatic rescue. Delécluse received an urgent summons from the Palais manager, and upon arriving at the Palais she discovered that The Germans were throwing out the music from our library. I rushed to the res- cue. They had needed the biggest bookcase in the library and had dumped all the music on the stage stair-case of the theatre. At the same time a perform- ance by some German theatre was being staged. So we had to get to work in a hurry. Mr. Bray [the conservator of the Palais] got some of his garden atten- dants with wheel-barrows, and we had all the music trucked away to the Rosa Bonheur room.14 The school’s pianos, too, had to be similarly hauled away to the relative safety of their makers’ Paris vaults on short notice. In the United States, the Fontainebleau Alumni Association made strong efforts to aid the town. Seeing the name of the association in relation to a re- lief effort, alumni began to send money, food, clothes, blankets, diapers, and other staples for Fontainebleau citizens. Packages were regularly dispatched to Paris and Fontainebleau, where townspeople collected and distributed the contents. Many former students served actively in the war: fighting, trans- lating, performing for troops in military bands or with touring groups, com- posing for radio broadcasts, and nursing. An address made by Henri Bonnet, the French ambassador to the United States, sums up the French apprecia- tion for the association’s actions, while also conveying a bit of the bitterness felt by many French toward their liberators: It has often been said that Art belonged to no country in particular, and this seems to be true in many respects. A symphony of Beethoven, a painting by Rembrandt, a sculpture of Rodin, convey a feeling of beauty to everyone sen- sitive to Art. Whatever the native language may be, the fact remains never- theless that countries with a long inheritance of culture, and a great wealth of Art production throughout a number of centuries accumulate on their territo- ries masterpieces of every sort, and that these surroundings as well as the tra- dition which is responsible for their production, create an atmosphere most 58 � Chapter Four 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 58 favorable to the development of young talent. Thus for over a century, young French artists have been sent to Rome to the “Villa Medicis” where in that beautiful building overlooking the Eternal City, they have had an opportunity of getting acquainted with the beauty of the past. Nothing appears to me more beautiful than such an influence, and I am proud to think that the French Government went a step further in that direc- tion when it created in the old Palace of Fontainebleau the first school ever opened by one nation for the exclusive benefit of another. From 1921 to 1939, within the walls of that historical mansion so favorable to the stimulation of emotional and creative activities, young American artists have had the opportunity to live in the shrine of French artistic production. Although this has been interrupted by war and the difficult conditions of the postwar period, it is to be hoped that the schools of Fontainebleau may look forward to their re-opening within the shortest possible time. The spirit of goodwill which has presided over their creation and promoted their success is still there, in both sides of the ocean, and is kept alive in this country by the devotion and activities of the former students of the Schools. The resumption of the publication of the Bulletin of the Alumni Association, which was interrupted during the war, is a very good omen. I wish to express my appreciation of the understanding and sympathy which the Alumni Asso- ciation of the Fontainebleau Schools have always extended to France and I congratulate them for having resumed the publication of their Bulletin, with the hope that it is the harbinger of a speedy renewal of even closer ties between their country and the—France of today.15 The “France of today,” of which Bonnet spoke, was one in great need, as the Conservatoire’s faculty and students soon discovered. A division of Patton’s 3rd Army arrived in Fontainebleau on August 23, 1945, destroying bridges and crossroads behind them. “What infinite joy it was,” wrote Lucie Delécluse, “you cannot possibly imagine. I don’t know if in our emotion we conveyed to your boys how overjoyed we were.” In Paris, Conservatoire alumna Jessica Luginbuhl said, “Oh how we greeted you here in Paris—your troops. I cried myself hoarse! [ . . . ] Now we are living in the midst of soldiers—all the houses around here are occupied by Americans so [sic] good it is to hear them down the streets. It reminds me of dear old Fontainebleau and the Palace . . . .”16 The American army entering Fontainebleau found it relatively intact after the destruction seen in other parts of the country. Homes were still standing, although relieved of their contents. The synagogue, not surprisingly, had been destroyed by dynamit- ing, but it was the only completely ruined structure in the town. Soldiers, jeeps, and tanks prowled the cobbled and dirt streets of the town. Officers At Home in Exile (1940–1945) � 59 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 59 were moved into the Conservatoire’s Louis XV wing of the Palais, dances were held in the school’s hotels, and a doughnut shop was opened. Most food, however, was still severely rationed, with scarcities in meat, milk, sugar, fruit, and nuts. More readily available were wine, bread, and the vegetables grown in side-yard plots by townspeople. Shoes, stockings, linens, cotton, and wool were not to be had except by special ration coupons, although newlyweds were entitled to a pair of sheets and towels. The Conservatoire’s own corps had suffered casualties during its exile: Camille Decreus, the director, had died in 1939. No one was appointed in his place owing to the uncertainty of the wartime situation. Maurice Fragnaud, one of the school’s founders and chairman of the French Conseil d’Adminis- tration, had also died. Another third of the aging council died before 1945. Remaining American military personnel and the Military Academy of St. Cyr, the French West Point, occupied the Palais. The United States govern- ment urged citizens not to travel in Europe. Despite these warnings from the United States and the privations that they knew they would face, many European exiles who had passed the war in America were now determined to go home, including Robert and Gaby Casadesus. They returned to Fontainebleau in 1946 with their three chil- dren, eager to restore the Conservatoire to all its glory, in its proper home in the Palais. The Casadesuses were followed a year later by Boulanger. A new era of the Conservatoire Américain was about to begin. Notes 1. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, June 1940, 1. 2. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, June 1940, 3. 3. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, June 1940, 3. 4. Léonie Rosenstiel, Nadia Boulanger: A Life in Music (New York: Norton, 1982), 314. 5. Gaby Casadesus, interview with author, July 20, 1999, possession of author. 6. In fact, the mansion in which the Conservatoire Américain was housed was ceded to Koussevitsky when the Conservatoire Américain returned to France in 1946, and became part of Tanglewood. Honegger and Martinu gave composition les- sons there. 7. William Eves, unpublished essay, possession of author. 8. Eves, unpublished essay. Also: Thérèse Casadesus Rawson, conversation with author, July 2000. 9. Eves, unpublished essay. 10. Letters, Marie Brodeur to Lucie Delécluse, March 29, 1968; May 16, 1971; November 11, 1974, discussing the rift between Boulanger and the Casadesuses, 60 � Chapter Four 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 60 CA/NY, CA/GA. Brodeur blamed the Casadesus family for behaving as if the Con- servatoire “was a family affair” and denying Boulanger her deserved place as the fo- cal point of the school. 11. Rosenstiel, Nadia Boulanger, 324. 12. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1945, 1, 3–5. 13. Fontainebleau is linked with the town of Avon, with which it shares a railway station and some municipal facilities. 14. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1945, 1, 3–5. 15. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1945, 1, 3–5. 16. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1945, 6. At Home in Exile (1940–1945) � 61 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 61 06-549_Ch04.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 62 C H A P T E R F I V E � Reconstruction (1946–1948) Throughout the war, the American Committee and the Conseil d’Adminis- tration met regularly in order to plan for the future of their school. When Gaby and Robert Casadesus brought nineteen piano students to the Palais de Fontainebleau in 1946, the Conseil had already appointed Robert director of music in a meeting held almost a year earlier, in September 1945. Marcel Dupré was granted the position of director general, although his busy per- formance schedule and teaching obligations at the Paris Conservatoire lim- ited his involvement; he delegated most administrative power to Casadesus and later Boulanger and made only a few appearances at master classes each summer. A noted French architect, Jean-Paul Alaux, would take over Frag- naud’s position as President of the Écoles d’Art Américaines.1 These positions, unanimously decided by the Conseil, the American Committee, and Walter Damrosch, came as no surprise to the Casadesuses. While continuing to operate the school in the United States, they had been in constant touch with the various administrative organizations—as much contact as possible considering the problems with overseas mail to and from the Conseil in France. There was no doubt in the minds of those who met in 1944 and 1945 that Robert would be offered and would accept the position: he and Gaby had shown outstanding dedication to the Conservatoire, carry- ing on its traditions and upholding its standards through the difficult emer- gency relocation and establishment in America. The Casadesuses had saved the world-famous Conservatoire Américain from almost certain end. Revi- talizing a school that had lain defunct for the entire duration of the war may 63 06-549_Ch05.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 63 well have proven impossible. Keeping the school alive in exile had ensured that it would not disappear without a fight. However, many of her supporters and students had led Nadia Boulanger to believe that the directorship of at least the Conservatoire, if not the entire Écoles d’Art Américaines, would be offered to her.2 In fact, it was not; ac- cording to the records of the Conseil, she was not even considered. She would remain a professor of harmony and, taking on a position that had long been hers in fact if not formally, composition.3 Despite the warm welcome given to her by the Conservatoire administration and faculty, Boulanger felt that she had been snubbed. Plans for the reopening of the Conservatoire Américain were enthusias- tically made: professors were approached, funds were raised. Recruitment was especially difficult, because the United States government strongly warned its citizens not to travel abroad. However, the fact that the Casadesuses were willing to return with their young children encouraged prospective piano students. In the months preceding the reopening, Gaby Casadesus spent much of her time writing to anxious students and their parents in order to reassure them regarding their personal safety in Fontainebleau. In the end there were nineteen music students, just two more than the seventeen set forth by the Conseil as a minimum for the school to open.4 In addition to the Casadesus role model, the American Committee had the foresight to continue promotion of the Conservatoire during the war. The Alumni Bulletin was published at regular intervals, and the France-Amerique, New York’s leading French-language newspaper, of- fered the Bulletin’s editors space for Fontainebleau-related articles every two weeks. This clever public relations tactic enabled the American Com- mittee to maintain ties to the French community in the United States as well as in France, since the paper was circulated there as well. No one would forget the Conservatoire Américain because it was out of sight and hence out of mind; its admirers would have constant notice of it.5 The Conseil had a number of problems hiring faculty and staff because of the low salaries that it could offer. Fortunately, enough prewar professors and new teachers wanting to teach at the school signed on as part of a skeleton faculty. Paul Bazelaire was engaged for the summer, as were voice and violin instructors, and an assistant piano teacher was hired.6 Other logistical problems were likewise readily attacked and rapidly solved. The restaurant, damaged by the occupation, was repaired, as were sites within the Palais. The Casadesuses requested that students bring as much music as they could transport, since contents and condition of the Conservatoire’s library were unknown. Alumni and friends of the Conser- 64 � Chapter Five 06-549_Ch05.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 64 vatoire pledged funds for the restoration of the organs, which, after being abandoned for six years, were in extremely poor condition. Piano maker Maison Pleyel offered the school fourteen pianos for the summer, even at the risk of the school not opening. Alaux, a true believer in the Écoles d’Art Américaines, negotiated with the Palais, which saw in the postwar confusion the chance to permanently remove those bothersome Americans as lodgers in its wings. The officials of the chateau wanted to use the rooms that had been loaned to the Conservatoire for a museum instead of a dor- mitory. Reminding the chateau staff and officials of the generosity of Rock- efeller, the rapport between the French and Americans, and the recent as- sistance of the United States in the war, Alaux secured a new agreement with the Palais de Fontainebleau, allowing for classroom and practice space in addition to limited living quarters. Arrangements were also made for stu- dents to be housed in two residential hotels, the Pension Launoy and at the Villa on the Rue Royale. The Casadesuses took up residence in the palace, adding to their cachet of leadership and sophistication. The younger Casadesus children were delighted with the free run of their summer home, and Jean’s tours of the chateau became a favorite event for students. By liv- ing in the Palais, Robert and Gaby Casadesus continued binding the loca- tion to the institution, and instilled for those first brave postwar students a sense of grandeur and scale, despite the damage that had been done to the buildings. Secure in his success, Alaux planned the official reopening for the Fourth of July, hoping to celebrate the twenty-fifth year of the Conser- vatoire Américain in style. Nadia Boulanger was one of the few professors for whom the 1946 resur- rection of the Conservatoire was somewhat of a nonevent. With only one student, she taught at her apartment in Paris, going to Fontainebleau only for occasional group classes.7 In addition, she was requested to hold classes for the Casadesuses’ piano students. Her place in the administration under Robert and, in effect, Gaby, could not have but wounded Boulanger’s con- siderable pride. Her earlier belief that the Casadesuses were interested in turning the school into a piano-only academy, coupled with the decision not to name her director, followed finally by this perceived slight—that so many students attended for the Casadesuses but only one for her—appears to have created a drive in Boulanger to become if not the actual head of the school, then a de facto one. This ambition began to inform all of her decisions over the next two years at the Conservatoire and affect the future of the school. Seeing the emphasis put on the piano department over other areas, Boulanger again believed that their intentions were to close out the other in- struments and departments of the Conservatoire. While she worked intensely Reconstruction (1946–1948) � 65 06-549_Ch05.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 65 with as many students as possible during each session, revealing her opinions of the Conservatoire’s leadership and direction only to close confidantes, she nonetheless routinely convinced many of her students that the Casadesus family expressed a feeling of entitlement regarding the Conservatoire and were the heirs-without-contest to the creation of Robert’s uncle Francis. Learning her lesson—that her withdrawal from Conservatoire affairs during the war had possibly cost her the directorship—Boulanger began to make sure that the administration knew of her interest in advancing her position within the school, and cultivated supporters on the Conseil and Board. Of the students who braved the deprivations and problems of traveling to France, quite a few were military veterans, assisted in paying the $225 tuition by the Veterans Bureau. A new group formed just after the war, the Société des Amis des Écoles d’Art Américaines, also provided subventions for the school and scholarships for students. Jean Casadesus escorted arriving stu- dents through “the melee of Cherbourg,”8 and onto the Paris train, and Alaux and Robert Casadesus met the first students of the postwar era at the Gare St. Lazare and brought them to Fontainebleau, delighted that they had arrived safely. The faculty was not alone in welcoming the students: The mu- nicipality of Fontainebleau, despite its often-fractious chateau workers, was eager to help the Conservatoire Américain regain its feet in its hometown. Many had benefited from the care packages sent by the Fontainebleau Alumni Association during the war, which included blankets, eggs, soap, needles, coffee and tea, and vitamins. In its first postexile year, the Conservatoire Américain was naturally known for its excellent pianists. Six concerts were given, of which four were broadcast on the radio. Student Edith Turpin recalled, “Music, music everywhere—from the harmony students holding forth downstairs, with the strains of the ‘Caseys’ [Robert and Gaby Casadesus] on the second floor, topped off by the cacophony of all ten pianos on the top floor going like mad!”9 Although the session had fewer students than in its prewar days, the stud- ies were no less intense: the weeks were filled with lessons, sight-reading, master classes, faculty recitals, and vocal-ensemble class, in which Boulanger, on her trips to Fontainebleau, began a Conservatoire tradition of studying Bach’s cantatas, a course of study she had initiated with her private students in Paris a decade earlier. The Pleyel pianos were installed on the third floor of the chateau, a floor above the Casadesuses’ residence, and practice began at seven-thirty every morning. Repertoire, as might be expected, was mostly French: Debussy and Ravel were performed in abundance. Guest artists, as before, appeared frequently at the school. The highlight of 1946 was the visit 66 � Chapter Five 06-549_Ch05.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 66 of Soulima Stravinsky, who played through some of his father’s works with Boulanger in one of her rare classes at the Palais. In the year of the school’s reopening, fêtes and parties resumed as if the school had never closed. Students were treated to parties given by the Ameri- can Army troops in Fontainebleau and by Lucie Delécluse, Alaux, and the Casadesus family. Gaby Casadesus’s birthday party was planned and hosted by the students, and faculty and students alike enjoyed the Bastille Day carnival— Robert Casadesus was “seen on the Dodgems . . . happily bumping every car in sight.”10 The town itself was “hospitable and charming” for the students, who frequented the movie houses, restaurants, and cafés.11 The Conservatoire’s reopening set back the school’s finances considerably: by the end of the summer, it was running a deficit of $5,000. A budget for the following year was set, and the Fontainebleau government suggested a grant from its own coffers for the 1947 session. The Tourist Board offered to help with costs and with the problem of finding adequate housing for the male students, since there was a shortage of rooms in the year of reopening. With considerable work and despite financial struggles, the summer of 1948 was laid out, publicized, and warmly anticipated.12 Indeed, the session of 1948 did open on time and with a noted increase in student enrollment, up to forty-eight, thanks in part to diligent promotions in the United States and to the efforts of the town of Fontainebleau. In April that year, the Conseil had been able to purchase a hotel, the Hôtel d’Albe, at 11-13 Rue Royale, close to the Palais. The hotel, complete with a lovely garden, contained many of the modern conveniences American students found lacking in the chateau and in the homes of townspeople who hosted them: full-sized bathtubs with running hot and cold water, even showers. During the part of the year when Conservatoire Américain students did not live in the hotel, it would be rented to the Uniforce military headquarters for use by their staff. The increasing enrollment and growing material acquisitions of the Con- servatoire Américain, under the steady and progressive directorship of Robert Casadesus, promised a smooth and successful future for the school. It was not to last. More turmoil lay ahead for the school’s direction and ad- ministration. During the summer of 1948, Thérèse Casadesus, the youngest child and only daughter of Robert and Gaby, contracted polio from a Fontainebleau student. Her older brother, Guy, also was stricken but man- aged to escape the worst outcomes of the disease. Thérèse, in critical condi- tion, was evacuated from Fontainebleau to the American Hospital in the Paris suburb of Neuilly, accompanied by her devastated parents. For several days it was unknown whether she would live, and following her recovery Reconstruction (1946–1948) � 67 06-549_Ch05.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 67 from the initial onslaught, Robert and Gaby traveled to Switzerland, the United States, the Netherlands, and Great Britain in search of treatments and therapies for their daughter. Robert Casadesus resigned his position as di- rector of the Conservatoire and the family returned to Princeton for half of each year, spending the other six months at their home in Paris on the rue Vaneau. Gaby Casadesus found the memories of Thérèse’s illness in Fontainebleau horrifying to the degree that she would not return to the town for many years.13 With the sudden and tragic departure of Robert Casadesus, the Conserva- toire Américain was once again in need of a director. Here Boulanger saw a chance to move up within the school. Citing her reputation and her long involvement with the Conservatoire, Boulanger applied to the Conseil d’Administration for the directorship and with the cooperation of her allies there and on the American Board she was appointed to the position she had long coveted.14 Still holding the view that the direction of Robert Casadesus would have turned the school into a piano-only program, Boulanger’s new plans for the Conservatoire did not include the Casadesuses in any mean- ingful way. Robert returned in 1949 for two days of master classes and heard a selection of pianists chosen for the classes by Boulanger. Although the fame of the “First Family of the Piano,” as Robert, Gaby, and their eldest son Jean were becoming known, continued to rise, Boulanger did not accord them the welcome given to many other great artists involved with the Conservatoire, even those only peripherally attached to it. Regardless of her feelings for the Casadesus family, Boulanger was eager to begin a new era at the Conservatoire Américain, and she embraced her re- sponsibilities and duties wholeheartedly and with energy few could match. As France, Fontainebleau, and the Conservatoire itself began to recover more fully from the effects of the war, Boulanger began to build the school into a personal cathedral intended for the worship of absolute musicianship. Notes 1. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, September 1945, CA/F. 2. Léonie Rosenstiel, Nadia Boulanger: A Life in Music (New York: Norton, 1982), 336; and Elsie Watson, interview with author, July 1999, possession of author. 3. Interview with Gaby Casadesus, July 20, 1999, possession of author. 4. While the accounts of Gaby Casadesus and the Alumni Bulletin of June 1947 agree on this number, the Conseil d’Administration meeting notes of October 1947 give the figures of 112 Beaux Arts students and 57 Conservatoire students. I believe this to be an error in the typewritten report. 68 � Chapter Five 06-549_Ch05.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 68 5. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1945, 3. 6. Livre de Detail, financial records kept from the 1930s to the 1950s, CA/F. 7. Interview with Gaby Casadesus. 8. Edith Turpin, “Another Start,” Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, June 1947, 3. 9. Turpin, “Another Start,” 4. 10. Turpin, “Another Start,” 4. 11. Turpin, “Another Start,” 4. 12. Report of the President, October 1947, CA/F; Report of the Reopening of the Schools for the Session of 1947, October 1947, CA/F; letter, author unknown, at- testing to the accomplishments of Alaux, 1953, CA/F. 13. Casadesus, Mes noces musicales (Paris: Buchet/Chastel, 1989), 156. Also con- versation with Thérèse Casadesus Rawson, July 1999, July 2000. 14. Undated document, early 1949, announcing her new position, CA/F. Reconstruction (1946–1948) � 69 06-549_Ch05.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 69 06-549_Ch05.qxd 10/30/06 6:34 AM Page 70 C H A P T E R S I X � Interlude 2: Gaby Casadesus on Her Return to Fontainebleau in 1946 All the students we used to have, they said, “Why don’t you teach?” Well, during the war we were [in the United States] for maybe three months and so we received from the French government the order—to my husband— to stay to do the masterclass in the summer. So we stayed . . . The students came because we were French and we were continuing what we did before. My husband was head of the piano department in 1936, and we were at least four pianists and assistants [in the department]. In America we had just piano and French. The school [in New England] managed to let us stay, because they said, “You cannot go back to France now.” They said, “You must stay for three months,” and we received the apartment, the car. The first and second years at Newport—a prep school—we were by the sea. We were always together, it was like a family. The school began as three months, then two. We kept [the school in America] for six years, and after five years it was possible to come back but all the American people said, “You cannot go back—it is too soon, you should stay.” And so we stayed until ’46 and were able to bring back only nineteen pupils [when we did return] because they were afraid of not having enough food. Many of their parents were hesitant to send their children to France while rationing continued. The year 1946 was a truly important time in our lives. Among everything else, it was the year of our return to France after six years’ absence, but it was also the year of Jean’s professional debut. 71 06-549_Ch06.qxd 10/30/06 6:35 AM Page 71 [By the time we returned,] the chateau was battered. The food was diffi- cult to find. I brought a lot of beef. Nadia did not come back right away—I think in ’47. We just had piano. The architects came in ’47. We had to find ways to get back into the part of the Palace we used to be, which was the Louis XV. We had to occupy the chateau because otherwise it would have been on its way to becoming a mu- seum, like it is now. It was difficult because there was not so much to eat for the Americans. But they [the people of Fontainebleau] were surprised to see them coming back so soon. And glad because it was the life coming back to France. It was marvelous. When my husband was going to have a concert in Switzerland we took all the children [students] to it—they were willing to follow us. They went to the concert. There were only nineteen pupils the first year, because it was difficult and the American government said, “Don’t go too soon, there is not enough to eat in France. Don’t go.” But we knew it was possible. We took things with us—shampoo, toothpaste—to keep the Americans with what they were used to having. I told my daughter, “You are going to eat good French bread.” I did the baking by hand. The reopening of Fontainebleau was 4 July, you know, Independence Day for the Americans. Robert was named Director. At the beginning of August, we gave a party for the students. I remember the date—it was the 9th, my birthday. The students literally covered me with flowers! Robert and I played the works of Spanish composer Manuel Infante, who was with us for the re- opening of the school. We brought back the school, really. It was very important to us to be there, to teach there. Note All materials are taken from the author’s interview with Gaby Casadesus, Recloses, France, July 20, 1999 (assisted by Thérèse Casadesus Rawson); and Gaby Casadesus, Mes noces musicales (Paris: Buchet/Chastel, 1989). 72 � Chapter Six 06-549_Ch06.qxd 10/30/06 6:36 AM Page 72 P A R T I I I “LA BELLE DAME SANS MERCI” 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 73 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 74 C H A P T E R S E V E N � A New Era (1949–1957) “Nadia Boulanger, for the first year of her Directorate, organized a most bril- liant series of concerts for the students, twenty-one in all,” reported the Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin in November 1949.1 “The classes were regularly attended, with a good grade of students in each class. Mr. Casadesus came for two days at the end of August and heard the best pianists in three Master Classes.” An open letter from the Alumni Association to the Bulletin echoed this sentiment and its support for Boulanger: “In the Music School, Mlle. Na- dia Boulanger, who was confronted with the difficult task of succeeding Mr. Casadesus, gave proof of her extraordinary activity in organizing a series of twenty-one fine concerts which attracted many notable visitors.”2 The summer of 1949 was abuzz with activity on the part of the new direc- tor. Boulanger spent a great deal of time continuing the restructuring of the Conservatoire as begun by Casadesus: new faculty members were hired, and financial assistance was doggedly sought from alumni and from the tradi- tional supporters of the school. The process of creating a new faculty and in- creasing student enrollment was not easy. The drop from forty-eight students the previous year to only twenty-eight following the departure of the Casadesuses was a cause for concern; Boulanger immediately proposed a clar- inet class to help make up the difference and approached Ginette Neveu about taking over the violin class. The famous violinist’s decision was never known: she died just days later in a Paris–New York plane crash, and Boulanger was forced to quickly find yet another head for the violin depart- ment, selecting Jean Pasquier and his siblings to lead the string students.3 75 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 75 Other classes suffered the pains of reorganization as well. The organ class worked under poor conditions owing to the state of the instruments, which were in disrepair. Boulanger made arrangements with a local church to have students practice there, but those organs were not in any better shape, and before the summer was out the Conseil had voted to start repairs at once on the organ in the Jeu de Paume. The notes from the meeting read, “The cost will be very heavy, but we shall be able to meet a large enrollment next year.”4 Four electric harmoniums were to be reconditioned before the start of the next season, in addition to the repairs in the Jeu de Paume. Voice students were sent to Paris for lessons with a succession of teachers as one after the other fell ill or were unable to complete the summer’s course. In the end they finished their course under Boulanger, who also oversaw pi- ano students and the vocal ensemble, in addition to her duties as professor of composition and harmony. Three concerts by students were given: one evening each for vocal ensemble, voice, and piano. In addition to hiring, scheduling, and material concerns, there were fi- nancial difficulties. The school had just purchased the Hôtel d’Albe, and the restaurant had required considerable plumbing, carpentry, and painting re- pairs. Members of the French committee, including President Jean-Paul Alaux, gave the Conservatoire personal loans totaling some 700,000 francs, but still the school operated in the red.5 A deal to lease the Albe to the Uni- force headquarters during the winter became hopelessly tangled in red tape, and the expected payments did not materialize. And to add to these compli- cations, a group of demanding students added to the financial crisis. “A group of veterans [students studying on the GI bill] came to ask for a refund of board and lodging on the plea that the School was charging more than they were worth and that they could work it out more economically themselves. [ . . . ] We made the error of refunding three students at the be- ginning,” wrote Alaux in his notes of the session.6 It was, indeed, an error. No sooner had the three students been given their refunds than the school office was deluged with a wave of demands for similar treatment. Students began to “insinuate a lack of honesty in the administration of the Schools,” Alaux reported, horrified: “One . . . had such an insolent attitude that [we] decided to expel him.” The affair didn’t stop there: a petition was circulated among the students. Thirty-three students signed a notice complaining of the Conservatoire’s unfavorable fees and policies, arguing that they wanted to stretch their dollars as far as possible in order to stay on in Paris for the winter. The petition was sent to the American embassy, which, to the relief of the Conservatoire, ignored it. The embassy had dealt with similar student 76 � Chapter Seven 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 76 protests, usually led by student veterans, at the École des Beaux-Arts, and was unwilling to get involved. Some of the financial strain was relieved over the summer by the receipt of a gift from the Myron Taylor Foundation. They owned the Villa Anabel on the Riviera, a house that had once served as a home for musicians, but the foundation had decided to close down its programs. The foundation offered the villa to Alaux to use or sell, however he saw fit. Alaux found the villa beautiful, and although the market for such a luxury was not optimal, he sug- gested finding a buyer right away so that the proceeds could be used to fund scholarships and organ repairs.7 During Boulanger’s first season as director, the Conservatoire’s whirl- wind social schedule continued unabated. A monarchist, Boulanger regu- larly socialized with nobility, and brought Queen Elisabeth of Belgium— the patron of the international competitions for piano and violin, held in her name—to the last student concert of the year.8 After the students had sung for Mass in the Palais’s Chapelle de la Trinité, Alaux and Boulanger presented the queen to the students in the Salon des Laques. Bastille Day found the students serenading the citizens of Fontainebleau from the Horseshoe Staircase with national anthems and folk songs, and a troupe of Scottish dancers from Uniforce appeared at several evenings’ entertain- ments. A “diner de têtes” in July was followed by a costume ball in August, Baron and Baronne Hottinger and the Comte de Noailles hosted student receptions, and the Préfet of Seine et Marne gave a garden party in Melun for students and faculty.9 In 1949 Fontainebleau itself was still recovering from the hardships of war. Alumna Elsie Watson recalls that, “the French kids were always smaller [for their age], and less developed than American . . . kids, probably because of the lean years of the war.”10 Indeed, while European travel was increasing again, travel guides of all types warned Americans about the conditions they would face on the Continent. One book helped visitors to France prepare themselves by offering advice on “How to Live without a Bath,” which be- gins with an illustration captioned, “This is a bidet.”11 This same tome of en- lightenment for France-bound twenty-somethings also details the difficulties of using the telephone (“making a phone call means trouble”), of exchang- ing money in a time of rampant black-marketeering in currency, and then de- scribes shocks an American was likely to have if a doctor’s visit were required (“some doctors are using penicillin while others are using cups [ . . . ] go to the American Hospital in Neuilly”).12 However, the reputation of the school was enough to overcome the reservations of students who otherwise might A New Era (1949–1957) � 77 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 77 have waited for better days on the Continent, and the brochures written by the school included reassuring information on Fontainebleau’s up-to-date medical clinic and accommodations.13 Eight-year-old piano prodigy Idil Biret arrived in Fontainebleau for the first time that summer, as did Charles Lind- bergh’s daughters Anne, who studied in the Beaux Arts division, and Reeve, a flutist. By the time the next summer came around, enrollment at the Con- servatoire Américain had grown to 125—its prewar standards. However, financial problems still plagued the institution, and President Alaux continually was required to plead for frugality on the part of Boulanger. In the early days of 1950 he wrote to her, recounting the poor fi- nancial state of the school and asking that, as director of the Conservatoire, she take more responsibility for its business affairs. Boulanger was asked to justify her expenses more clearly; her expenditures were leading to a crisis for the school’s continued existence. Boulanger was undeterred in planning for a gala 1951 season commemorating the school’s thirtieth anniversary. “Next year,” she wrote in September 1950, “for in spite of everything there will be a next year (we do not accept defeat except under the evidence of over- whelming circumstances), we shall have [master classes, concerts, and in- creased enrollment].”14 Boulanger’s optimism and force of determination in continuing the school is clear, and, indeed, the following year proved the best attended since the departure of the Casadesuses. In 1951 the school opened with 126 Music and Beaux-Arts students, and it carried a deficit of 2,200,000 francs, which rose the next year to 3,100,000. The new director replied to Alaux’s concerns with plans to se- cure better currency exchange rates and increased fund-raising, both in France and America. Alaux, alarmed by the proposed costs of salaries and at renovations to the school’s instruments and facilities, negotiated for two years to obtain subsidies from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs and from the Department of Seine et Marne for a total of 600,000 francs. It would not go far. In August 1953, Boulanger designated a salary of 200,000 francs for her 1952 directorship duties, an additional 220,000 for her teaching stipend, and gave herself a raise the following year, taking 400,000 for the director- ship alone and 200,000 for teaching. Boulanger allocated 120,000 francs for her assistant Annette Dieudonné, though the two were to have the same number of students. Instrumental teachers received an average of 100,000 francs, though piano professor Alice Gaultier-Leon, a protégée of Albeniz, held out for 250,000 francs for teaching seventeen students and with some wrangling was finally awarded that amount.15 The Ravel and Durand Com- position Prizes were 200,000 francs each in 1953, twice the average instru- mental instructor’s pay. Tuition hovered between $435 and $450 during the 78 � Chapter Seven 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 78 first half of the decade, insufficient to cover expenses. In September 1953 Alaux resigned his position as president, citing his failing eyesight. Of his tenure, he wrote, The situation was eminently difficult. If we did not reopen the Schools [in 1946], we were threatened to have to leave the Palace at the approaching ex- piration of our lease. [ . . . ] Our difficulties have been many—taxes, social se- curities, repairs to the restaurant, repairs to the grand organ, increase in salaries, the lease of pianos and the bus-trips, have year after year weighed heavily on our budgets.16 Though departing, Alaux stressed conservative spending for the future: Nadia Boulanger, he wrote in a memo to Quinto Maganini, “intends to spend now her amount of the [currency] exchange excess in plans for the 1954 sea- son.”17 He emphasized that the subsidies and grants from the government and other donors must be used “solely for educational purposes.”18 This ad- vice, given twenty years earlier by Maurice Fragnaud, went unheeded. In- stead, Boulanger relied on charity concerts by celebrity performers, dona- tions, and the work of the alumni office in New York to take care of funding, as well as urging increases in tuition and registration fees, doubling the tu- ition between 1951 and 1956. Large, already organized groups of students were accepted during this period for the hefty fees they generated, regardless of the levels of musicianship they achieved, and despite the widely recog- nized fact that such students brought down the overall quality of the session. Several examples of this are evident in the correspondence of Boulanger and the New York secretary, Myra Davis, who wrote to her in 1953 with several proposals from potential students: A Mrs. Hazel Dorey wanted free piano les- sons in exchange for bringing [a] group of students. Some she does not know and they are of varying levels of proficiency. Should Mrs. Dorey get free les- sons? How many does she have to bring to get free lessons? Shouldn’t the Conservatoire Américain admit them individually rather than as a group? “Knowing how opposed you are to ‘tourists’ rather than ‘students,’” remarked Davis, “I should tell you that Mrs. Dorey and her husband have formerly con- ducted tours in Europe for Thomas Cook, and Mrs. Dorey has in mind con- tacting our students about a planned tour following the Fontainebleau ses- sion. Do you think this would be well received?”19 Mrs. Dorey was not the only one with such an idea. Pianists William Bat- taile and John Westmoreland had similar ideas. Westmoreland led a choral group from Elon College in North Carolina. The heads of their French de- partment and the Music department (also an accompanist) would be their chaperones. What kind of deal could be worked out? A New Era (1949–1957) � 79 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 79 In the case of the last request, Boulanger implied to Westmoreland that one of every five students would get a full scholarship, resulting in three or four scholarships for the group of seventeen. Westmoreland agreed to have the Conservatoire Américain vet each student individually but was con- cerned about what would happen if one was turned down. Bargaining with Boulanger, Westmoreland also suggested that their chaperone act as inter- preter for the school while in Fontainebleau in order to defray costs.20 Groups such as these were not uncommon in the 1950s as the Conserva- toire strove to secure its finances and future. The school faced serious state- side competition for the first time from the Tanglewood Festival, which had just opened a year-round office in New York and was active in recruiting young performers from the top American conservatories and universities. Confronted with the poaching of Fontainebleau students, Boulanger and the Alumni Association arranged for truly stellar concerts and master class op- portunities: Students in the mid-1950s were treated to classes and concerts by Yehudi Menuhin, Clifford Curzon, Pierre Bernac, and Francis Poulenc. Pi- anist Seymour Bernstein was awarded a work dedicated to him by Milhaud, as a result of taking first prize in 1953, and students in 1954, such as Idil Biret and Salabert Composition Prize winner Luise Vosgerchian, found that their competition pieces had been composed especially for the Conservatoire by Auric, Copland, Dutilleux, Françaix, Milhaud, and others. All students par- ticipated in the staging of Jean Françaix’s opera Paris á Nous Deux, which was presented in the Fontainebleau Municipal Theater in honor of Menuhin, who conducted the performances. Students winning the Prix d’Excellence, Premier Prix, and the named prizes (including the Durand Prize, the Ravel Prize, the Jean de Polignac Memorial Prize, the Friends of Dinu Lipatti Memorial Prize, and the Lili Boulanger Memorial Prize) were presented at concerts at the American embassy and at Radio-Diffusion Française. Stu- dents poured in to bask in the glow of Boulanger, members of Les Six, in- strumentalists and singers like Doda Conrad, Maurice Gendron, and Menuhin, and to take their chances at winning fame and starting a career. The Conservatoire Américain de Fontainebleau seemed to have entered a new golden age, despite its financial difficulties.21 After Alaux’s resignation, Boulanger was in a position to choose her own president of the Conseil, someone who would follow her lead in determining the future of the music school. The roles of director general and president of the Conseil were amalgamated into a single position, and Boulanger had just the man for it. She chose François Valéry, the son of her close friend and fa- mous poet Paul Valéry. Valéry’s family connections aided the Conservatoire and his involvement grew as he spent time at the school and with its faculty 80 � Chapter Seven 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 80 and students. Completely fluent in English and an excellent diplomat, the levelheaded and imperturbable Valéry would see the school through decades of change in the directorship, class emphasis, and relations between the French and American committees. The 1950s were a time of change in repertoire and in approaches to in- terpretation. The burgeoning recording industry grew during the postwar years, creating a need for more recording artists. Concurrently, consumer ex- pectations for recordings rose, and musicians were forced to refine techniques and interpretations for permanent sound media as well as for live perform- ances. The blasé, one-take recording sessions of the past were scorned in fa- vor of multiple-take sessions and, when available, sophisticated editing of takes to produce a polished, albeit composite, product. Consumers who be- came accustomed to perfection gleaned from recording techniques applied their expectations to recitals as well, and students had to be ready to with- stand the scrutiny of the most discerning ears. Tastes in the concert hall also changed: historically appropriate interpretations began to gain ground as per- formers looked into musicological research and applied it to performance practice. The early music movement, long a fringe element in the perform- ance world despite its early adherents, among them Francis, Henri, and Regina Casadesus, began to acquire more devotees as audiences and per- formers alike became more aware of stylistic suitability in terms of tempo, ru- bato, vibrato, portamento, tone color, and instrumentation itself.22 Students at the Conservatoire Américain were aware of the new ap- proaches to playing, and their professors were careful to include instruction in the current practices. Economy of gesture and a heavy emphasis on analy- sis led students to cleaner and more carefully considered interpretations. Stu- dents recalled the long hours of practice for their lessons and analysis of everything from chant and Josquin to Mozart and Poulenc, and they recalled the vocal ensemble’s performances of Tallis and other Renaissance com- posers.23 Even Pierre Fournier and Paul Bazelaire contributed to the early- music repertoire by performing Marais at their concert in 1954. Of musical tastes, Boulanger asked students, “What more is style than conventions ac- cepted?”24 Yet she herself was immensely conscious of style and tastes and pushed the Conservatoire Américain instrumentalists to be on the cutting edge of performance, although the repertoire and compositional styles fa- vored by Boulanger often truncated the student composers’ exploration of the serialist and more avant-garde techniques that she disliked. Boulez, for example, was never discussed or heard, and student artists could be sure of not performing on concerts in the Jeu de Paume or anywhere else if their works were not deemed suitable by Mademoiselle, regardless of whether the work A New Era (1949–1957) � 81 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 81 in question had become part of the standard repertoire or was deemed a cru- cial element in a student’s development by a professor. For the most part, though, repertoire at the Conservatoire Américain dur- ing the 1950s certainly did not shy from the edge of contemporary works. De- bussy and Ravel being well accepted as part of the standard canon, students in Fontainebleau turned to more recent French composers, including Messi- aen, members of Les Six, Robert Casadesus, and those who composed for the student competitions, and they looked to music being written by non-French composers for additional repertoire. The standard historical repertoire served as text for analysis. Students attending the 1954 session included in their classes the study of Josquin’s Missa La Sol Fa Re Mi, Bach’s Musical Offering, and the Art of Fugue, Beethoven’s String Quartet op. 130, Hindemith’s Ludus Tonalis, Stravinsky’s Concerto for Two Pianos, Bartók’s Divertimento, and other quartets of Mozart and Beethoven.25 Overall, Boulanger’s acceptance or rejection of works for either perform- ance, study, or as student compositions, seems primarily based on their artis- tic genealogy: Messiaen was a clear descendant of Debussy, had studied with Dukas at the Paris Conservatoire, and was considered by Boulanger to be an Impressionist carrying along the tradition of the earlier part of the century. A devout Catholic whose religious mysticism must have struck a chord with the equally devout Boulanger, Messiaen was acceptable. Poulenc, too, was in good standing as a compositional role model for Conservatoire students. He was also a composer of the neoclassicist vein whose works found favor at Fontainebleau, his songs often being assigned to voice students. Boulez, on the other hand, was one of the major composers of the day completely ig- nored by Boulanger, his relevance in contemporary music notwithstanding. Considered “a perfect Wagnerite,”26 his iconoclastic approach to composi- tion and conducting made him unsuitable for the aesthetic nurtured at Fontainebleau, where students learned to appreciate the traditional output of the Paris Conservatoire rather than that of its latter-day renegades. Despite the welcome much of the new repertoire received in the analysis classes, student compositions that applied contemporary compositional trends were dismissed, and the use of approved approaches from earlier peri- ods and stricter rules for the creation of music were rigidly enforced. Com- position students often spent the entire summer working on fugue and coun- terpoint in the most traditional style, learning from Bach and Beethoven. Although Boulanger, when questioned, admitted that, “Electronic music is an experiment and one must encourage research,” she vehemently argued against works by the most experimental and innovative of contemporary composers. “The majority of musicians cannot hear anything,” she declared. 82 � Chapter Seven 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 82 “It is for this reason, this great lack, that crazy, pointless, worthless music is being written today.”27 In the end, Boulanger’s own preferences led her to limit the scope of works studied and created by her composition students. Of course, not all was work during the Conservatoire’s reconstruction pe- riod: parties and fêtes continued as they had before. In 1954 two students became the proud owners of a goose they named Françoie (oie being French for “goose”) when they won him at a Bastille Day raffle in the Fontainebleau market. Françoie was housed in the women’s lodgings at the Hôtel d’Albe, where he had unfettered run of all the bathtubs until the end of the sum- mer, when he was donated as dinner to the concierge.28 The early 1950s seem best remembered by the students who wrote for the Alumni Bulletin as one whirlwind social event after another, from the welcome party to Boulanger’s postconcert cocktail parties to the costume balls held at the end of each season, Versailles, Black-and-White, and Medieval being just a few of their themes. Group trips to Barbizon, Giverny, Sens, and the Loire Val- ley provided respite from practicing and from solfège classes. The Beaux Arts division and musicians collaborated for the Françaix opera in 1954. Bastille Day celebrations and the end-of-summer ball became joint endeav- ors as well, with the artists providing costuming and set design for the mu- sical productions and theme nights. The living standards of the students at this time were enviable. Students in Paris could live on eighty dollars a month and in the banlieues, or outlying suburbs, the cost of living was even lower.29 Students regularly visited the capital, picking up French editions of music and luxury items found much more expensively at home. Accommodation in Fontainebleau was appar- ently sumptuous as well: Elsie Watson was thrilled to stay in room 6 at the Albe: “It’s elegant!” she wrote, describing the room in her diary. Marble fireplace and mirror, two blue velour wing chairs, two desks and desk chairs, two beds, a huge wardrobe with double mirror and a smaller wardrobe where we keep our luggage. The window reaches from floor to ceiling, has cur- tains and blue and silver brocaded damask drapes. Right next to us—adjoining— is an immense bathroom with double basins, a toilet, bathtub and some sort of a wardrobe and still plenty of space left to move around.30 Despite the outward appearances of the Conservatoire, its luxurious stu- dent quarters and impressive guest roster, financial difficulties continued to batter the school even after tuition was nearly doubled between 1950 and 1959, when it cost $885 to attend for the summer. The students were not un- aware of the problems the school faced, and in 1956 students worked together A New Era (1949–1957) � 83 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 83 to collect money to assist the school. They presented the fund to Boulanger at the final dinner of the session. Touched, Boulanger earmarked the money to be used “to the best advantage of future students in a manner which will prove most useful to them.”31 At the same time, the New York office and Alumni Association continued the scholarship benefit concerts begun before the war. Alumni performed gratis at these events and at the annual Alumni Association dinner in order to raise funds for instrument-specific scholarships. However grim the bank balance must have looked, it did not stop the Conseil, under Boulanger’s direction, from spending more and more. In 1957, the Conservatoire acquired the Barassy Hotel at 15 Rue St. Honoré for the lodging of male students. Not long after the purchase, the Alumni Associa- tion began asking its members to contribute for the furnishings the building desperately needed. “[T]hese men will not care to sleep on nicely polished floors,” ran the copy, “and even new bathrooms lose their charm if one must wait after the bath until the air has dried him.”32 The association was not subtle: “Any sum, no matter how small, will be joyously received.” Contri- butions were, naturally, tax deductible. In September 1957 Boulanger celebrated her seventieth birthday, amid much fanfare from students, friends, and admirers. Jean Françaix’s gift to Boulanger, a cantata entitled Komm meine heilige Nadia, gave observers a sense of the teacher’s great following and of the admiration that her students and colleagues felt for her. Required to retire at that age from teaching at the Paris Conservatoire, Boulanger became even more control-oriented in regard to the Conservatoire Américain. Her directives and desires would change it from a school designed for the fostering of great talent and international artistic collaboration and friendship into a place where her philosophies could be paramount, a place where she could enjoy the adoration of both stu- dents and alumni, and a place where she would be able to direct every nu- ance of life, from students’ practice schedules to their manners, within the school’s confines. Able to devote herself full time to directing the Conserva- toire, what for any other musician might have been twilight years of rest and pleasure were for Boulanger a time for continuing to create in Fontainebleau the ultimate expression of her musical philosophy. Notes 1. Document of the Conservatoire Américain, November 4, 1949, CA/F. 2. Letter of the Alumni Association, November 1949, CA/F. 3. Document of the Conservatoire Américain, November 4, 1949, CA/F. 4. Conseil d’Administration meeting notes, November 1949, CA/F. 84 � Chapter Seven 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 84 5. At this time the French franc was valued at 331 old francs to the U.S. dollar (Werner Antweiler, pacific.commerce.ubc.ca/xr). 6. Document of the Conservatoire Américain, November 4, 1949, CA/F. 7. Document of the Conservatoire Américain, November 4, 1949, CA/F. 8. Letter, Jean-Paul Alaux to Alumni Association, Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1949. 9. Document of the Conservatoire Américain, November 4, 1949, CA/F. 10. Elsie Watson, letter to author, undated November 2000, possession of author. 11. Helene MacLean, There’s No Place Like Paris (New York: Doubleday and Co., 1951), 106. 12. MacLean, There’s No Place Like Paris, 165. 13. Documents of the Conservatoire Américain, various dates, CA/F. 14. Letter, Nadia Boulanger to Charles DuBose, September 2, 1950, CA/F. 15. Conservatoire Américain Budget, 1953, CA/F. Also: Letter, addressee un- known, undated, 1953, disclosing salaries, CA/F. 16. Jean-Paul Alaux, letter of resignation, CA/F. 17. Memo, Jean-Paul Alaux to Quinto Maganini, undated, CA/F. 18. Memo, Jean-Paul Alaux to Quinto Maganini, undated, CA/F. 19. Letter, Myra Davis to Nadia Boulanger, Lucie Delécluse, and Jean-Paul Alaux, undated January 1952, CA/F. 20. Letter, Myra Davis to Nadia Boulanger, Lucie Delécluse, and Jean-Paul Alaux, undated January 1952, CA/F. 21. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletins, 1954–1959. 22. Robert Philip, Early Recordings and Musical Style: Changing Tastes in Instrumen- tal Performance, 1900–1950 (Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 1992). 23. Elsie Watson, diaries, 1959. Also: Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1959, 2. 24. Jay Gottlieb, letter to author, undated August 2000, possession of author. 25. Fontainebleau Schools of Music and Fine Arts Brochure, 1954, CA/F. 26. Nicolas Slonimsky, The Concise Baker’s Biographical Dictionary of Musicians (New York: Schirmer Books, 1994), 119. 27. Jay Gottlieb, letter to author, undated August 2000, possession of author. 28. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1954, 5. 29. MacLean, There’s No Place Like Paris, 14. 30. Watson, diaries, June 21, 1950. 31. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1956, 4. 32. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, April 1957, 1. A New Era (1949–1957) � 85 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 85 06-549_Ch07.qxd 10/30/06 6:37 AM Page 86 C H A P T E R E I G H T � La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) This afternoon, a strange little black-bearded fellow from Paris played the Beethoven op 110. Mlle Boulanger considered him an intruder and pouted throughout his performance. [Later] Ann Fiore and I went to our favorite place for tea and soon Jim Harrison rushed in to say that Miss Johnson was bringing Mlle Boulanger and Curzon for tea. We took the hint, found ourselves another table; some left and the proprietress asked some others to come another time. Such a commotion! As if it were the queen!1 After nearly a dozen years as director of the Conservatoire Américain, Nadia Boulanger was, at the time of her retirement from the Paris Conser- vatoire, finally able to devote the bulk of her time and energy to the school. Having had to wait longer than she wished to become director, Boulanger’s assumption of authority grew to proportions that soon caused consterna- tion and no small amount of resentment among the administration, faculty, and even the students, as Elsie Watson’s diary entry above indicates. Boulanger no longer seemed content with teaching her own classes and overseeing the financial and logistical concerns of the school. Instead, she became increasingly anxious about the decisions made by professors and other administrators. Concerned that music and materials prepared for per- formance or used in other classes somehow would not be appropriate for au- diences or students, she dictated to the professors the repertoire she desired the students to learn each summer, regardless of individual professors’ ob- jectives and of the ambitions or abilities of the students. She told guest artists—not least of whom was Soulima Stravinsky, who came to play works 87 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 87 of his father’s—what to perform at their Fontainebleau recitals. In addi- tion, she established an extracurricular system of oversight in which she set dress codes and enforced a code of moral behavior applicable to all students from prodigies to returning alumni.2 She served as the principal liaison be- tween the school and the city of Fontainebleau, and was a one-woman pro- motional board. Undeterred by her advancing age, hearing difficulties, and declining health, Boulanger relied on contacts in the musical and jet-set worlds for support for all of her projects, not only those related to the Con- servatoire. As Boulanger passed her seventieth birthday, more and more students came to Fontainebleau, hoping to study with the master before it was too late. In essence, Fontainebleau became Boulanger, and Boulanger was Fontainebleau. Boulanger’s teaching methods were stern, her approaches precise, and her students both adored and feared her. Though she believed that her American charges were often underprepared, lacked proper background for her classes, were undisciplined, and constantly struggled to keep up, Boulanger admitted large numbers of students to her classes in the later years of her life. She did this for two reasons, the first of which was to main- tain the Conservatoire’s long-standing status as a symbol of French musical influence.3 She also accepted record numbers in part to boost sagging en- rollment figures, which were blamed over time on the Vietnam War, infla- tion in the United States, and Tanglewood’s aggressive marketing and pro- motion tactics, such as maintaining an office open year-round.4 Students who went to Fontainebleau to study found this policy to be a double-edged sword. While they might be receiving training and immersion that they would not have gotten had admission requirements been more stringent, they also faced the intellectual and musical challenges and emotional tur- moil that came with such study. Students found that it was not complicated to enter Fontainebleau and to study with Boulanger: the difficulties lay inside the classroom, where standards were high and patience often ran thin. As time went on, Boulanger often taught specifically to one or two select students— frequently her young, hand-chosen prodigies. Other students did not fare as well. One older woman was chastised to the point of tears in an over- crowded harmony class, and another student escaped from a particularly long lesson by exiting through a classroom window into the Palais’s Jardin Anglais. Pianist Elsie Watson wrote in her diary on one occasion that she had survived Boulanger’s harmony class “unscathed,” but more often re- ported that classes could be tense. “No big fireworks but everyone was ex- pecting them at any moment,” she noted.5 88 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 88 Boulanger’s own training and professional experience were evident in her treatment of the Fontainebleau students. She had long given up her own career as a composer when she became a professor at the École Nor- male in 1920. A student of Fauré and Vidal, Boulanger had an illustrious, award-studded career at the Paris Conservatoire before setting up as a pri- vate teacher herself. After several failed attempts to win the Prix de Rome, Boulanger sat for the contest again in 1908. The competition jury eventu- ally gave her a Second Prize, but her approach to the composition of one test-piece was seen as a flaunting of the rules, and the resulting uproar among the contestants and governing body won her no admirers. Camille Saint-Saëns went so far as to chastise her in a letter of May 1908, charging her with wanting to “create a sensation.”6 While he praised her capabilities, the older composer wrote that, “shooting past the target is not the same as hitting it, and that a studied effort to make an impression is very often less effective than naturalness and simplicity.”7 Boulanger competed again the following year, and, not surprisingly, found no new success. Boulanger’s run-in with Saint-Saëns was not the last battle she would have in her campaign of attacking established musicians and their conven- tions, and her experience with him did not seem to temper her approaches. When denied a teaching position at the Paris Conservatoire in 1910, she placed the blame on Debussy, who responded to her accusations with a let- ter defending himself, while flattering her in terms that make clear his view that she was brash, assumptive, and not a little arrogant. Boulanger’s per- sonality was not the only thing criticized: Amadée Boutarel, critic of Le Ménéstrel, found her works insipid and banal, and suggested that while the young woman was a finely trained musician, her composition could use some improvement.8 But Boulanger was a competent composer and aspired to the forefront of the French musical world. Her plans were dealt a practical and psychologi- cal blow with the sudden decision of her equally musical and more compo- sitionally talented sister Lili to devote herself to composition full time. Lili had always been fragile in health and appearance and was the cosseted baby of the family, which lent to her the preternatural halo of the youthful and gifted, predestined for the short but prolific life, much as Keats had been viewed in poetic circles. With Lili’s choice of a career in composition, Na- dia had to face the fact that her own gifts would be completely overshad- owed by those of her sister, whom Le Ménéstrel, in contrast with its opinion of Nadia, had described as a composer of “great brilliance.”9 There was a sin- gle face-saving solution: Nadia became Lili’s sole tutor, giving up her own composition for the sake of Lili’s future. Turning instead to conducting and La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 89 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 89 performance, Nadia spared herself most of the comparisons that might have been made had she remained devoted to composition. Lili Boulanger achieved what her less talented, more irascible sister had been unable to do, and became the first woman to win the Grand Prix de Rome, stunning the judges with her cantata Faust et Hélène in 1913. Nadia Boulanger’s shift from composition to performance did little to pol- ish her sometimes abrasive and unyielding approach to situations. As a per- former, she traveled extensively with her friend and mentor, pianist Raoul Pugno. Female conductors still were rare, and wherever she took the podium, Boulanger attracted praise and criticism for musical and political reasons alike. Female soloists, while more widely accepted than those wielding ba- tons, were far too often also viewed as novelties, and Boulanger’s unapolo- getically strong appearance—no opera-singer frills or lady-violinist froth was found in her wardrobe—lent to her an image of a determined and serious mu- sician, something some more traditionally minded male musicians had trou- ble accepting. Boulanger’s exceptional musicianship gained her countless ad- mirers among French music aficionados, but she made enemies as efficiently as she curried favors. In Russia, an ailing Pugno asked Sergei Rachmaninoff to take his place in a concert with Boulanger. When the celebrated Russian pianist and composer refused, Boulanger forever added him to her list of foes. As her students quickly learned, his name could not be mentioned nor could his music be played in her presence under any circumstances. Boulanger’s fame and stature grew, taking her to other countries and performance venues, and this less than tactful outlook accompanied her. While audiences often were impressed with the rarity of so professional and competent a female conductor and performer, orchestra members were not always enthusiastic, especially when Boulanger complained about the inferiority of American and British musical training.10 In 1918, Lili Boulanger died, aged twenty-four. Nadia entered the full and then half-mourning that would characterize her dress and frame of mind for the rest of her life. Interest in Lili’s works grew, and Nadia clung even more firmly to her goal of refraining from composition in favor of conducting and teaching. Added to those two areas was a new mission to memorialize her sis- ter, and she worked to promote the small body of works left by Lili, oversee- ing dozens of concerts and recording projects. There is no doubt that her own training in one of the world’s most strin- gent music schools influenced Boulanger’s approach to her students, both those she taught privately and those under her tutelage at the Conservatoire Américain. Boulanger’s approach to her Fontainebleau students demon- strated her belief that while all people could benefit from the study of music, 90 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 90 only the very best should be encouraged to make it their life’s work. Students with talent were hand-picked for special attention; just as frequently, sec- ondary-school music teachers and other students already embarked on pro- fessional careers were counseled to change their courses of action or to con- sider music only as an avocation. Composers began with private lessons from Boulanger, but most students were first exposed to her in the classroom, where she focused on ear-training and harmonic analysis. Students took classes both with Boulanger and with her long-time assistant, Annette Dieudonné. Both included solfège manuals of the Paris Conservatoire and Hindemith’s Elementary Training for Musicians, Bach chorales, exercises prepared by both teachers, and a plethora of scores representing the span of music history from the Renaissance to the contem- porary as their standard texts. Boulanger carefully placed students into five levels of solfège classes according to their abilities, and she knew well the rig- ors of the assigned work. The daily dictations and exercises were designed to both push the limits of their abilities and to show them their weaknesses and failings as musicians-in-training. “Very difficult,” she told one young com- poser of the work he must undertake, not without humor, but in all serious- ness, “very boring.”11 Despite the prestige associated with having taken and survived a Boulanger class, attrition was a problem in these classes, with a third to one-half of all students dropping out of them before the end of the summer.12 However, Boulanger kept a close watch on attendance, especially that of her own personal composition and piano students, and even those studying in other areas were rarely truant if they wished to acquire and retain her good graces. Private composition lessons often were more difficult than the group classes. Students were admitted into Boulanger’s apartments in the center of the Louis XV wing; in her later years she was escorted by a nurse. There, sur- rounded by mementos of her life, students would seat themselves at the pi- ano with their newly composed scores, ready to submit to Boulanger’s cri- tique. “Here I was,” recounts composer and pianist Joe Kerr, who later became part of the Conservatoire’s administrative staff, “just a kid from Texas, and I wanted to write music, and I’d written this little piece . . . any- way, I’m sitting there and she’s got photos of all these people she knows all over the place, signed, ‘Love, Igor.’ I mean, it’s all kind of overwhelming.”13 Many students were asked to forget all that they knew and to start over at the beginning with rudimentary exercises and studies. Some balked; others swallowed their pride and complied. Lessons, scheduled for set blocks of time, could run late by the hour; waiting students knew better than to leave, despite having to sit in the hall for unpredictable lengths of time. Inside, La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 91 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 91 composers were being asked to do anything from writing species counter- point to playing a harmonic progression through all of the keys at the piano. Expectations were high, and students’ attempts frequently met with disap- pointment on the part of Boulanger. Boulanger’s piano and organ students found similar demands waiting for them. Of her requirements, Boulanger related, referring to her own practice as a child, Each week I had to play a prelude and fugue by heart. But you know, you mustn’t exaggerate, a prelude and fugue a week, that’s not much! In my course I require as much of my pupils. I make them write out the separate parts from memory after which they should be able to reconstruct the whole piece. After a training of this kind, they have well-furnished minds.14 For many summers, Boulanger chose a theme for the session’s focus: a composer, genre, or period, by means of which harmony and form would be studied. In 1965, for example, piano students were all assigned one or more Beethoven sonatas, and Boulanger’s classroom lectures and master classes fo- cused almost exclusively on this repertoire for the duration of the summer. During other summers she dealt with Renaissance masses, Bach’s preludes and fugues, Mozart’s sonatas, and Stravinsky’s orchestral works. This holistic approach was one that made eminent sense to the faculty and students, and it has influenced the ways in which harmony and repertoire classes are ap- proached in American conservatories today. Composition and piano were the dominant fields of study at the Con- servatoire under Boulanger’s direction, and consequently works equally worthy of study by pianists and composers alike—such as Beethoven’s piano sonatas—often formed the backbone of a given summer’s program, with in- strumental and vocal music on the periphery. This emphasis was not as wel- coming or as practical for instrumentalists and singers as it could have been, and in fact, as Boulanger’s ability to direct the school developed and as the board’s trust in her leadership grew, she proposed ending instrumental and vocal classes altogether. During the 1960s, she managed to scale instru- mental classes back to the point where students were required to travel to Paris for their lessons rather than having the professors come to Fontainebleau. Boulanger also requested that the American office make it a policy to deny scholarships to instrumentalists in order to encourage a de- cline in their enrollment, asking that the majority of funds go instead to pi- anists and composers. While some members of the board agreed with this plan, there was dissent. Such a radical proposal raised several flags for long- 92 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 92 time Fontainebleau watchers. Boulanger’s scheme for limiting enrollment was a strangely familiar echo of what she had so hotly accused the Casadesuses of attempting in the 1940s and against which she had railed to the point of distancing herself from the school’s American incarnation. Luckily for the many talented singers, violinists, cellists, and other instru- mentalists who attended the Conservatoire from the 1960s through the late 1970s, the majority faction of the board prevailed, and classes with Yehudi Menuhin, Maurice Gendron, and the Pasquiers continued apace. Comparison with competing schools was also a factor in many of Boulanger’s decisions as the Director of the school. Many stateside summer programs, including Tanglewood and Aspen, were focused on instrumental performance with an emphasis on orchestral training; and other summer schools, including Yale’s Norfolk Festival and the Marlboro Festival, were dedicated to chamber music. In order to retain its standing in the summer- music-school continuum, the Conservatoire needed to provide a wide range of performance opportunities and musical exposures. In addition, much of the school’s prestige came from its association with top instrumental performers: Henryk Szering, Yehudi Menuhin, Paul Bazelaire, Maurice Gendron, the Pasquier Trio, and Doda Conrad had brought scores of talented string players and singers to the school. Finally, finances were an ever-present issue and the school faced pressing questions each year as its administrators planned for the next summer: Would composers and pianists alone generate enough revenue for the school to stay open? What constituted a viable number of students to assure success each summer? How large would scholarships be, and how would they be overseen and dispersed? In the end, continued instrumental study, limited fund-raising by the Alumni Association, and support from Boulanger’s society patrons en- sured the continuation of the school in its traditional form despite perenni- ally operating at a deficit.15 Boulanger’s strong personality filled the chateau, and students constantly were aware of her presence. Her most faithful protégés were encouraged to report as informers back to Boulanger any indiscretions made by other stu- dents: women wearing trousers, men dating Fontainebleau’s resident women, students who practiced less than they might. From the beginning of her tenure as a professor, Boulanger had taken it upon herself to monitor her stu- dents’ behavior. She had been involved intimately in their lives, from mak- ing living arrangements for them to counseling them on their love lives. She taught table manners and social skills at her parties.16 The youngest students became surrogate children to Boulanger, whose belief that a woman’s primary role was that of mother led her to consider adopting a child. The conflict La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 93 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 93 between this belief and her own overwhelming ambition as a female com- poser and pedagogue led to inconsistencies in her teaching of female stu- dents. The most talented, such as Louise Talma, who became a faculty mem- ber at Hunter College and the Conservatoire Américain after spending her youth studying with Boulanger each summer in Fontainebleau, were en- couraged in their professional lives. Yet Boulanger seemed hesitant to push them as she did her male students, and encouraged many to seek out non- musical careers. Women of less apparent talent—whether for composition or performance—were likely to receive advice from Mademoiselle urging them to marry and raise a family while maintaining an amateur interest in music. Not a few women were told to give up music altogether for obvious lack of skills, but were also supposed to find consolation in their ability to produce children and create a happy home. Boulanger’s attempted domination of the student body often conflicted with her ability to run the Conservatoire even-handedly and in an organized manner. She resisted putting out publicity materials for the summer sessions in advance, relying instead on word-of-mouth advertising. This kind of pro- motion, Boulanger felt, would encourage former students and faculty to send their own students and colleagues, and would lower the number of applica- tions from the less talented who might be tempted to reply to a general ad- vertisement.17 However, this kind of publicity often resulted in a professor- student patronage system that led to accusations of unfair distribution of scholarship funds.18 Hiring visiting artists and clinicians was also left to last-minute planning, and Boulanger was not always aware of what was desirable to American stu- dents coming to France. Although the American office tried to guide Boulanger in her choice of performers and clinicians, they rarely succeeded in changing her mind or promoting one artist over another, once she had de- cided that one better met her requirements for a Fontainebleau appearance, regardless of his or her status among the students. In order to raise enroll- ment, Boulanger began promoting Robert Casadesus’s master classes and Jean Casadesus’s private teaching. The American office expressed disap- pointment with this plan, urging her to engage artists more recognizable to the American students. Marie Brodeur wrote in 1966, “I’m sorry to say that he [Robert Casadesus] is the master class man for 1967. It will mean another small piano enrollment.”19 She went on to report to the American council in 1973 that Boulanger spoke [to me] of the bad drop in enrollments, and blamed it on the political sit- uation. I said no, it seemed traceable to the change in leadership of the piano 94 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 94 master class. Upon which, she asked me point-blank what the Casadesus name was worth as a drawing card. I said, “Nothing. Aside from their immediate per- sonal pupils . . . they have no following.” I told her frankly that to revive the piano master class, she needed other leadership.20 Boulanger, however, had made her peace with the Casadesus family, and was now reluctant to let them go. Their students continued to be some of the best pianists at the Conservatoire each summer, but enrollment numbers re- mained lower than the school desired. Specific master class arrangements also were a matter of some con- tention. Robert Casadesus, Clifford Curzon, and other artists were invited to Fontainebleau for two to three days of cocktail parties, classes, and recitals, and a great amount of excitement surrounded these visits. Natu- rally one would suppose that the master classes were reserved for Conser- vatoire students, but the reality was quite different. Students judged to be the best of each piano teacher’s studio were heard by Boulanger and Jean Casadesus in closed auditions; Boulanger then selected those who would play for the guest clinician. Once these appropriate representatives of the Conservatoire had been allocated times to play, Boulanger then made phone calls and extended personal invitations to nonstudents to take part in the classes. This policy was alluded to in the school’s brochures, which read—a little condescendingly—in part: Participation [in] master classes. Young talented artists having already started on their career or participated in great competitions may be chosen to play at the Master Classes, though not members of the School. This participation proves of great value to the regular students too.21 Students were naturally dismayed to find that they and their colleagues were denied participation in the classes in favor of outsiders. Especially diffi- cult for students were the occasions when even the most highly esteemed stu- dents were not invited to play. Watson’s diary records that, The first of Mr. Curzon’s three master classes began today [July 19, 1965] with many more Beethoven sonatas. Mlle Boulanger has invited many of her pianist friends to “make” the master class and only Charles, one of our tablemates, has the opportunity to play. Naturally, many of the students are disappointed, and feel that they have been misled by the literature that reached them before they arrived.22 From her insistence on selecting each student’s repertoire to overseeing their manners and making herself available in only limited ways, it is clear La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 95 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 95 that Boulanger encouraged what later administrators of the school would call the “cult of Boulanger.” As former Mannes president Charles Kaufman re- counts, “Everything sort of swirled around her, to one degree or another. She and her approach to things were the focus of the whole institution. Every- thing else was sort of the spokes of the wheel, so to speak.”23 Louise Talma and other early acolytes of Boulanger sent students to her long after it was generally agreed that the pedagogue was well past her prime and wont to ram- ble and lecture unproductively at her scheduled classes. Elsie Watson noted in her diaries in 1965 that “Many of her master classes are not well prepared and we sit while she hums and sings to herself and enjoys the music.”24 The situation did not improve over time. Watson found that the following year, “There was a master class given in the Jeu de Paume by Mlle Boulanger— supposedly on French music, but, as usual, she hummed, sang, rambled on for two hours and a half while I wished I were at the piano.”25 Watson was not alone in her observations, nor was she the first to re- mark on them: Virgil Thomson first became critical of Boulanger’s meth- ods as early as the 1930s, when Thomson wrote to Copland of their teacher that “Nadia is not the same as when we were there. The flattery and guid- ance was precious to us and inspiring and the counterpoint lessons were competent enough and that’s all there was.” Thomson goes on to relate Boulanger’s later approach: “The counterpoint was still fair [ . . . ] but the main thing was all changed. The guidance wasn’t worth a damn. On the contrary, quite troublesome. Once the habit of composition was estab- lished, she used every art of sympathy and generosity to make it grow in her own pet channels.” He was equally revolted by the aura of infallibility that surrounded the pedagogue, writing that “she lives in a temple of adulation and knee-bending that is disgusting.”26 Copland conceded that Boulanger’s “pet ideas” and the “maternal means” of communicating them were forced on students but commented that students should “throw them overboard” after thorough internalization and reflection.27 Indeed, many students ap- plied a method of selection of ideas and tools usual among those who have undertaken sessions of master class–style study, as opposed to that of years of tutelage under one teacher: use what works, don’t use what doesn’t, re- member it all so that it can be presented to one’s own students, who also may well likewise pick and choose. However, as Boulanger aged, there be- came less and less from which to choose. Gradually it became clear that, for students to be completely indoctri- nated into Boulanger’s world and thus receive her full attention, they would have to begin working with her at a very young age. There was an increase in the number of prodigies at Fontainebleau in the 1960s and 1970s as 96 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 96 Boulanger began to take on younger and younger students, hoping to mold and train them during their most formative years. In its earliest days, students younger than eighteen were rarely, if ever, permitted in the Conservatoire, but by the end of Boulanger’s life and tenure as director, Emile Naoumoff had been studying with her for several years beginning when he was just nine years old. Idil Biret and Juliana Osinchuk were but two more children taken under the wing of Mademoiselle for training. Some older child talents— pianist Jay Gottlieb, for example, was brought by Louise Talma to Fontainebleau as a teenager, and Jean-Pierre Marty, also in his teens when he began his work with Boulanger—were showered with attention. Generally, though, Boulanger gave her undivided attention to one chosen child hoping to foster a complete musical and even social upbringing for the prodigy of the moment. Photographs from in the 1950s and later often show the director surrounded by such children, many of whom continued their studies with her in Paris after the Conservatoire closed each September. As she aged, Boulanger began accepting increasingly younger students, perhaps searching for her last protégé or for someone she could train as her successor as a ped- agogue. However, this is only conjecture, as, in the end, her own egotism in this regard nearly caused the Conservatoire to be closed for good. There can be no question as to Nadia Boulanger’s influence on the Con- servatoire Américain and on the musicians whom it educated during her tenure as director there. The Boulanger heyday began with her installment as director and continued into the mid-1970s, with polished artists and am- ateur music lovers alike flocking to Fontainebleau in order to bask in the eru- dition of the celebrated pedagogue. Boulanger pushed and prodded students to excel, coaxed them to create, and ruthlessly struck down the hopes of those she felt unworthy. She was the midwife of generations of works from American composers and performers, whose skills and insights into the work- ings of music were passed along to their own students. Her techniques, honed in the years as a professor at the Paris Conservatoire and the Conservatoire Américain, still shape countless ear-training and musicianship classes throughout the United States. For the Conservatoire Américain, Boulanger was a force that was both vi- tal and damaging. Her energy, dedication to teaching—for whatever reasons, be they egotistical, devotional, or charitable—and her professional and per- sonal contacts proved essential in bringing students and guest artists to Fontainebleau each summer, subsidizing pianists and composers, and raising the name of the school to legendary status. Her domineering personality, self- centered approach to administration, and lack of foresight caused the Con- servatoire Américain to run at a financial loss, alienated former students and La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 97 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 97 potential supporters, and caused the school great difficulties after her death. Boulanger was a one-woman graduate school, as Thomson had said: admis- sions committee, professor, dormitory proctor, financial administrator, and juror all in one. Students willing to undertake the rigors of a course with Boulanger, and who were capable of withstanding the firestorms as well as the praise, found that their careers were bettered for the experiences under Mademoiselle’s hand, and they reveled in being Fontainebleau alumni. Oth- ers, especially the instrumentalists who existed in a sphere outside of Boulanger’s immediate concern, found her inspiring but not directly influ- ential. Finally, the schoolteachers and older students who attended Fontainebleau on a regular basis held a third viewpoint: that Boulanger was wrapped up in her own world, an often indifferent administrator and a sometimes callous teacher. Regardless of individual reactions to the director, the atmosphere at the Palais de Fontainebleau was, under Boulanger’s vital- ity and that of the professors she employed, one of intense study and musi- cal accomplishment that considerably influenced Conservatoire students, their careers, and those of their students. From Boulanger’s takeover of the Conservatoire Américain until her death in 1978, scores of first-rate performers and educators flowed from the Palais, having experienced that intense study. Composers Louise Talma, Bathia Churgin, Krzysztof Meyer, Yung Shen, Charles Wuorinen, and Ken- ton Coe; pianists Malcolm Frager, Seymour Bernstein, Idil Biret, Robert Levin, Jay Gottlieb, Luise Vosgerchian, and Emile Naoumoff; cellists Kermit Moore and Pierre Djokic; and vocalists Norman Farrow, June Anderson, and John Ferrante all passed through the halls of the chateau and out into per- forming and teaching careers. Narcis Bonet, Jean-Pierre Marty, David Mon- tagu, and Yuko Satoh were all alumni of the Conservatoire Américain be- tween 1959 and 1970. The 1960s and 1970s were both exciting and unstable times for the school. Boulanger continued to attract celebrated clinicians and a moderately large student population. The climate of “Flower Power” and the attitudes engen- dered about the war in Southeast Asia only subtly altered the conservatory’s atmosphere. Mini-skirted women appeared to play in Robert Casadesus’s master class,28 but it appears that music held sway over politics as part of daily conversation, although no one could have missed seeing Fontainebleau graf- fiti, “U.S. stay with us,” spray-painted in front of the post office near the Palais, pleading for the United States to continue its assistance with French foreign affairs.29 Attendance apparently was unaffected, and the fact that fe- male music students outnumbered male music students in the final years of the 1960s and early 1970s could be attributable either to the American draft 98 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 98 or to the fact that this often was usual at the school.30 However, there was ev- idently some concern and emotion among the students during this period about the war, and as a response to this, the collaborative fête of 1970 was based on Euripides’s Iphigenia. Of the work, on which musicians and Beaux- Arts students worked together in order to create an evening-long installation, painter Bicky Homer wrote, “We used the story of Iphigenia and her sacrifice in contrast to the formidable attitudes of a warrior.”31 In addition to their art- work and musical contributions, students undertook exercises in drama and physical improvisation in order to better express themselves during the exhi- bition, which featured nude dancers and models and charcoal-dust finger- painting by students and observers alike, as part of the reaction to the move- ment and “music of death” provided by composition students. Classes were conducted apace of their previous direction, although Boulanger herself led fewer and fewer of them, relying heavily on Annette Dieudonné. Repertoire ran less to the avant-garde and the newly composed than before, and starting in 1960, students were taken to Solesmes each sum- mer for a seminar on Gregorian chant with the famed scholar-monks there. An afternoon of intense study at the abbey helped to prepare them for their summer-long project on chant and mass settings, which culminated in the performance of a mass by Orlando de Lasso for the Feast of St. Louis, the pa- tron saint of Fontainebleau, at the end of the session. The trips to Solesmes led to greater interest in early music among students and faculty that year, and a madrigal group began to meet regularly for sight-reading. Instrumen- talists dropped in and accompanied other Renaissance vocal music, and, not straying too far historically, Boulanger’s classes focused on the Well-Tempered Clavier. Most repertoire during the 1960s remained solidly French to the de- gree that even French Renaissance composers were given preference over Italians and others in the early music sight-reading sessions, with French mu- sic festivals occurring every few years. However, one notable concession was made to American tastes and burgeoning interest in jazz among the students: two saxophone professors were hired for the first time in 1961.32 With the proliferation of prodigies and young virtuosos at Fontainebleau, there was a surprising increase in interest and performance of ensemble mu- sic, considering the demands made on the musicians’ time as soloists and Boulanger’s distaste for instrumental courses. The school was host to several ensembles-in-residence each year, including wind quintets, string quartets, a vocal ensemble, and a handful of trios. Performances increased in fre- quency with the advent of the ensembles-in-residence, and it was not un- common for nightly concerts to take place for consecutive weeks without an evening off. Formal concerts still were held in the Jeu de Paume and other La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 99 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 99 chateau venues, and students presented works in a more relaxed setting at the student restaurant after meals as well. The student “stars” of the summer used this type of recital equally as much as did the less confident or less ad- vanced did: pianist Idil Biret and the ensembles-in-residence often used the restaurant to try out works before programming them on a larger, more pub- lic concert or in a master-class setting. Young students increased in number during this period, but the Conser- vatoire also began a concerted effort in the United States to attract older performers. Students at the Palais had begun to complain about the prolif- eration of children in their classes, and made their views known to Marie Brodeur of the American office. Brodeur reported on this phenomenon to Boulanger, who replied that she had personally tested each incoming stu- dent and found the younger ones to be better students.33 Brodeur was un- sure as to Boulanger’s testing methods, evaluative scale, or whether the di- rector entirely grasped the problem causing the complaints. However, as a longtime Fontainebleau administrator from the American side, Brodeur was savvy enough to understand the need to placate the more mature stu- dents. The American office’s publicity material repeatedly referred to study at Fontainebleau as “nine weeks of graduate level study,” and made sure that no prospective student was intimidated by the language barrier; all classes would be with “French professors speaking English.”34 In 1963 Elsie Watson was relieved to find a substantial contingent of students her own age to offset the under-twenty set.35 Despite these enticements, even the most prepared students could not as- sume their success at the Conservatoire. Conductors and composers had no better luck than instrumental performers in any given year. Students in these two disciplines were most likely to be given remedial work to do, without hope of completing it in time to undertake original projects before the close of the session. One observer reported that in 1962, “most of the composers were not permitted to compose and only three of the conductors got to con- duct.”36 Scholarship students were faced with perhaps the worst situation: as part of the Conservatoire Américain’s work-study program, they were re- quired to take on tutoring, copying, and arranging assignments which were to be completed before their own assignments and practicing could begin. There is little wonder that some complained of learning more about running a music school than about music over the course of the summer.37 One attraction for students on the brink of professional success was the vast alumni network that had been growing since the school’s inception. Louise Talma, once a wunderkind composition student at the Conservatoire, repeatedly took students with her to Fontainebleau each summer, where she 100 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 100 introduced them to Boulanger and other artists who would be able to assist in the establishment of their concert careers. With the school boasting Queen Elisabeth Competition winners, noted composers, and a number of prodigies appearing in major concert halls, the possibilities were endless for career advancement. Concerts, parties, and dinners proved the perfect grounds for effecting introductions, and students judged ready for the greater world found themselves invited to numerous soirées during the summer. However, the number of alumni involved in the admissions process led to problems with cronyism and nepotism. The halls of the Palais became filled, not with students from all over the United States, representing many differ- ent conservatories and music schools, but increasingly with students from the home institutions of professors. Talma was notorious for admitting her own students and funneling large scholarships their way. Marie Brodeur became infuriated with the manipulation of scholarship money and insisted that Talma not serve in any capacity for granting financial aid to Fontainebleau students. “She must not be scholarship chairman,” Brodeur wrote in 1968.38 Re- gardless of the control exercised by the New York office, Boulanger had the final say in accepting or refusing students, and since Talma was one of her most trusted, inner-circle confidantes and assistants, Hunter College was al- ways well represented at the Conservatoire. As new generations of performers rose through the Conservatoire so did the faculty. Professors who had become Fontainebleau institutions by teaching at the school for many years, some since its opening, began to re- tire or die. Lucie Delécluse retired in 1963, Maurice Gendron took over the cello classes and master classes on the death of Paul Bazelaire in 1958, and Jean Casadesus, eldest son of Robert and Gaby, had begun teaching at the school as a primary piano instructor in the early 1960s. Jean, born in 1927, had begun his musical studies, naturally enough, with his parents, later moving on to the Paris Conservatoire. During his parents’ stay in the United States, he had studied at Princeton University and in 1946 won the Philadelphia Orchestra’s concerto competition. He made his American de- but with the orchestra, playing the Ravel Concerto in G. By the time he started teaching at Fontainebleau, this eldest child of Robert and Gaby was already being recognized as an outstanding and stylish soloist, and he col- laborated with his parents as well as with other instrumental soloists on concerts and recordings. Jean was a charismatic and enthusiastic teacher. Boulanger seized on his charm and magnetism and sent both talented and less talented students to him: the more talented would learn quickly, while those with limited career potential would have reason to practice, attend their lessons, and return to Fontainebleau to study with the young artist. In La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 101 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 101 short, Jean Casadesus became a piano-department money-maker in the way his parents no longer were. The younger faculty, coupled with the ubiquitous lure of Boulanger, may have contributed to the school’s large numbers of students who returned to the school for several years in a row during this time. While some returned for the same course and professor, as many piano students did, others studied in several areas. Robert Levin began attending the Conservatoire in 1960 for piano and harmony, added composition to his curriculum in 1961, and con- centrated solely on composition in 1962 and 1963. Jay Gottlieb alternated studying piano, harmony, and composition for several years. For especially talented students, such a plan of multiple undertakings was not unusual, and, in fact, reflected the aims of Francis Casadesus, who had fostered the idea of the complete musician in his building of the Conservatoire’s initial curricu- lum. For other students, it led to disaster. More than one student hoping to follow the course of complete musicianship—the study of harmony and com- position in addition to his or her own instrument—met with Boulanger’s re- sistance. Instrumental instructors occasionally warned students not to pursue study with Boulanger if they were registered primarily with other teachers. Her pride and ego were wont to interfere with such students’ progress. She did not envision them as potential long-term, private students for herself. “All day long I’ve been turning over in my mind whether I should 1) enroll in harmony for lessons with Mlle Boulanger or 2) ask her to teach me piano,” wrote Elsie Watson in 1972, after many years of study at the school with other pianists, including Jean Casadesus. “[ . . . ] I decided to ask Mlle Dieudonné what she thought of the idea. . . . She indicated [ . . . ] there wasn’t the slightest chance of [Boulanger] acquiescing to my request.”39 In truth, Watson confesses, she was “rather relieved” to be told this, knowing that the experience she was seeking would be a difficult one to endure. Boulanger’s reputation was still intact in the United States, and, as Wat- son’s writings show, among students who had first encountered Boulanger in earlier days. However, new students at the Conservatoire began to lose their awe of her as her tactics became harsher. Harpist Lillian Phillips at- tended the Conservatoire in 1963 and wrote an account of her dealings with Mademoiselle: I had hoped to take Harmony classes. Only the Boulanger private students were permitted to attend. [ . . . ] Boulanger’s master classes: are they to exploit her one or two most talented and make complete fools of the others[?] I saw too many people made fools of and ridiculed by her—adults and even college professors. Maybe this is European teaching, but I went to all of those classes 102 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 102 of hers and they were a waste of time. [ . . . ] Yes, I learned a tremendous amount: How not to teach.40 Boulanger’s teaching was not the only aspect of her iron grip on the school with which students, disappointed in the master teacher, found fault. Music teachers in public schools often attended Fontainebleau for advanced train- ing and because a certificate of attendance from the Conservatoire Améri- cain would allow them to bypass stateside refresher-course requirements. This was a common enough request that had rarely, if ever, been refused in the past. But Boulanger believed that these students were not acceptable par- ticipants in her empire, despite their often paying full tuition and thus con- tributing significantly to the school’s coffers. On more than one occasion she was rude to students requesting these certificates, explaining in blunt terms their shortcomings and inabilities that made it impossible for her to endorse their study at the Conservatoire Américain. One music teacher wrote that, after being denied the standard paperwork by Boulanger, she approached the faculty for help. What she was told was reminiscent of a highly stratified, feu- dal society in which the honoring of one’s betters and self-deprecation were steel guide wires for behavior: Later one of the instructors explained how best to heal my offence. I should not tell her (Mlle. Boulanger) that I was studying what I wanted in the school. Rather I should apologize for not choosing to become one of her students as I felt unworthy of her honored instruction.41 The student summed up what was the consistent issue with Boulanger’s administration and teaching approach: While Mlle. Boulanger may be very famous and very inspiring to certain stu- dents, she endangers the very existence of the school through her lack of abil- ity to manage it. In truth, I would say her fame has not improved her charac- ter but created a god-like sense of being capable of no error.42 When Virgil Thomson had made this same statement in the 1930s, it was downplayed by Boulanger admirers, and it was essentially unthinkable that anyone should agree with his assessment of the famous musician. However, with students complaining at the end of each session, the Conseil d’Admin- istration and the American Committees began to take note. Not only was Boulanger’s severe treatment and judgment of students questioned, but her faculty appointments and logistical planning capabilities were also criticized. Students flooded the New York office with accounts of Dieudonné falling La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 103 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 103 asleep in classes, losing her place in the exercises and repeating lessons; of the school’s inability to provide enough pianos or to secure enough practice rooms appropriate for large instruments; and of the lack of adequate instru- ments for harpists. The French class was given by an actress with scant En- glish skills; Boulanger and Dieudonné did not inform students before arrival of the music they would require; they failed to make provisions with the Fontainebleau music store for ordering it; classes were irregularly scheduled; certain students were blocked without notice from attending classes for which they were qualified and had registered.43 Composition, analysis, and harmony students questioned the repertoire covered in the classes and noted the absence of serial and other techniques disliked by Boulanger. “Nadia has always been brutal since I have known her,” wrote Marie Brodeur in response to some of the grievances, noting that even Boulanger’s closest companions suffered from her professional cruelty. She used to frighten people so that they could not answer, or would not answer the most simple question, for fear of ridicule or sarcasm. . . . [but] many weath- ered her classes, and many still do. [ . . . ] The thing I do not understand is the way she sticks her head in the sand and ignores Boulez, etc., instead of having them out for lectures or concerts. She should not ignore them. She feels that if nothing is said, they will go away and everyone will forget the tone row. [ . . . ] Nadia has a way of walking over some people. She condemned Louise [Talma]’s opera, all but a few measures. After the performance in Frankfort, Nadia re- fused to mention it. Also, when Grant Johannessen played her new piano work with the Buffalo Symphony, Louise sent a recording to Nadia. She never even acknowledged it . . . just ignored it.44 Consternation over these problems reached the Conseil d’Administration through various channels, and François Valéry made the suggestion that some- how Boulanger be persuaded to hand over the directorship while continuing to teach. This was an impossible solution for Boulanger supporters, and the proposal was never made directly to Boulanger herself. Students continued to come and study with her, but the veneer of her reputation was beginning to show signs of wear at the hands of those who had less-than-optimal experi- ences and were honest enough to acknowledge it both to themselves and to the rest of the musical community. To most observers and casual acquaintances of the school, the Conser- vatoire shone with the brilliance of celebrated artists and teachers during a time when many minds were caught up in the ugliness of the outside world. An annual alumni radio broadcast was instituted after many years of delin- quency in order to promote the school’s finest products. Students of the 104 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 104 1960s and early 1970s ranged from those already concertizing, as were Idil Biret and Jay Gottlieb, to those about to become stars. Samuel Sanders, Andre-Michel Schub, Jeremy Menuhin, and June Anderson all began con- cert careers after attending the Conservatoire. Performers and composers were not the only American musicians made in France: musicologists of both the historical and analytical sort came out of the Palais as well: Bathia Churgin, Susan Forscher Weiss, and Severine Neff studied at the school, taking courses in instrumental performance as well as composition, har- mony, and theory. On their concert programs and through their own teaching, these Con- servatoire Américain students transmitted to their own students the reper- toire, techniques, and points of view of their French professors and mentors. Pianist Douglas Buys remained faithful to the texts used by Dieudonné at the Conservatoire and used the Paris Conservatory solfège method book in his own ear-training classes at the North Carolina School of the Arts, just as Bruce Eicher adopted the French fixed-do system for his classes at the Peabody Conservatory. Don Campbell’s study at the Conservatoire led to working with music acquisition among very young children and Jay Gottlieb became a specialist in twentieth-century and French piano music. Repertoire at the Conservatoire remained solidly Francophile, with the occasional nod to a master unlucky enough to have been born elsewhere. Rameau, Franck, Ravel, Couperin, Fauré, and Debussy all had annual airings. Messiaen and Françaix represented more recent generations for French com- posers, although their works did not always find student acceptance, despite the annual presence of Françaix staging operas, teaching piano, or holding master classes. Singers were given Poulenc, Duparc, and Grétry to study, and foreigners Stravinsky and Chopin were admitted into the realm of honorary Frenchmen. Composers, like their performer classmates, were encouraged to study French music and consider its language. While Conservatoire students rarely emerged from the curriculum sounding like French composers, they often as- similated some aspects of the style that had enveloped them for the summer. Exploration of instrumentation and color, tonal versus atonal techniques, and the challenges of writing for small, mixed ensembles were all issues dealt with by the composition students, especially as time went on and Boulanger realized that not all of the composition students would be satisfied with a summer of basics, starting with simple counterpoint exercises. As in previous years, students found time for a social life in both Fontainebleau and Paris. Although student demonstrations occurred in Paris during the Vietnam War era, the musicians of the Conservatoire Américain La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 105 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 105 seem to have felt few repercussions of the unrest among their French coun- terparts, aside from the graffiti and conversation mentioned earlier. There are but a few hints as to the political nature or attitudes of the students at Fontainebleau: for their formal group photos they appear conservatively dressed, with some longer hair and shorter skirts mixed in, and written de- scriptions mention the occasional “hippie” in the Beaux-Arts division, but within the music school it appears that there were no flamboyantly dressed flower children, no confrontational demonstrators. In the eyes of the faculty, in the 1920s and 1930s, jazz was a distracting and regressive form of music- making best avoided by the students. Surely there was no lack of apprecia- tion for popular music during this period at the school, but it passes by, un- noticed for the record by students and professors alike. Major concerts given by Soviet artist Sviatoslav Richter were sold out, and politics ended at the door to the Salle des Colonnes. Most students, no longer living in the Palais, made their homes in the school-owned hotels near the chateau. Most coveted was a room in the Hôtel d’Albe, where a typical room “just couldn’t be any more French than it is.” It’s rococo in style with very high ceilings and gold ornamentation and murals on the walls. There’s a seven-foot mirror flanked by crystal chandeliers which illuminate a beautiful, marble-topped dresser. In the center hangs a big chan- delier reflected in [the] mirror-doored wardrobe.45 The Albe was also the site of a garden bordered by a terrace and balcony, often used for parties, and a pavilion that housed a piano and table tennis. Aristocratic supporters of the Conservatoire Américain invited students to their country homes and chateaux, and tours bused them to Versailles, Chartres, and the south of France. Students spent Sundays, when the Palais and therefore the practice rooms were closed, assisting in the town’s effort to clean up the forest. “Les Amis de la Forêt” trooped out into the woods each week with gloves and bags to haul away debris left by campers and picnick- ers, and were rewarded for their efforts with guidebooks to the forest, scarves, and other tokens.46 The traditional costume balls and Fête St. Louis celebra- tions were highlights of the social schedule, as were the Bastille Day events. Bastille Day in Fontainebleau often began not with French observances but with an early-morning concert on the Horseshoe Staircase by Conser- vatoire Américain students. They sang “The Marseillaise” and “The Star- Spangled Banner,” followed by French and American folk-song arrange- ments. Composition students often were inspired to create their own arrangements of the two national anthems, sung with varying degrees of suc- 106 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 106 cess. In some years a reception followed at the Palais or Town Hall, com- plete with champagne and hors d’oeuvres. Classes took up the remainder of the French holiday, but the evening found students watching the fireworks in Paris or at the Bastille Day carnival, a traveling assortment of games, rides, and food vendors set up in the former stable area of the chateau. In 1967 Nadia Boulanger celebrated her eightieth birthday amid much fanfare at the court of Prince Rainier and Princess Grace of Monaco. Guests included Marc Chagall; Igor Markevitch and his son Oleg, a Boulanger pro- tégé; Elliott Carter; Philippe Entremont; Mieczyslaw Horoszowski; Yehudi Menuhin; and some thirty Conservatoire Américain alumni. Boulanger was described as excited and pleased to be feted, with accolades being presented one after another throughout the year. However, Boulanger, despite her ac- tivity, was beginning to decline. While she persisted in refusing to scale back her teaching or to relinquish command over the Conservatoire Américain’s affairs in any way, the French and American councils quietly began looking to the future without her. Notes 1. Elsie Watson, diaries, July 19, 1960, possession of author. 2. Documents of the Conservatoire Américain, undated 1960s, CA/F. Also: Let- ter, Nadia Boulanger to Soulima Stravinsky, undated 1975, CA/F. 3. Notes of Conseil d’Administration, May 1977, CA/F. 4. Memo, Nadia Boulanger to Clarence Brodeur, undated 1954, CA/F. Also: Let- ter: Nadia Boulanger letter to unknown recipient, undated April 1972, CA/F. 5. Watson, diaries, July 2, 1965. 6. Jérôme Spycket, Nadia Boulanger, trans. M. M. Shriver (New York: Pendragon Press, 1987), 22–23. 7. Spycket, Nadia Boulanger, 22–23. 8. Léonie Rosenstiel, Nadia Boulanger: A Life in Music (New York: Norton, 1982), 104–105. 9. Rosenstiel, Nadia Boulanger, 105–106. 10. Rosenstiel, Nadia Boulanger, 295. 11. Joe Kerr, spoken monologue, “How I Killed Nadia Boulanger.” Performed July 28, 1999, at the Hôtel d’Albe, Fontainebleau. 12. Kerr, “How I Killed Nadia Boulanger.” 13. Kerr, “How I Killed Nadia Boulanger.” 14. Bruno Montsaingeon, Mademoiselle: Conversations with Nadia Boulanger (Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1985). 15. Letters, Marie Brodeur to Martha Crawford, July 12, 1970 and March 14, 1969, CA/NY. La Belle Dame sans Merci (1958–1979) � 107 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 107 16. Jay Gottlieb, interview with author, July 2000, possession of author. 17. Documents of the Conservatoire Américain, various dates, CA/F. 18. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Martha Crawford, November 22, 1968, CA/NY. 19. Marie Brodeur, letter to Martha Crawford, November 6, 1966, CA/NY. 20. Clarence and Marie Brodeur, “Report on the Conditions at Fontainebleau,” 1973, CA/NY. 21. Conservatoire Américain brochure, 1961–1962, 15, CA/GA. 22. Watson, diaries, July 19, 1965. 23. Charles Kaufman, interview with author, March 24, 1999, possession of author. 24. Watson, diaries, August 16, 1965. 25. Watson, diaries, July 27, 1966. 26. Anthony Tommasini, Virgil Thomson: Composer on the Aisle (New York: Nor- ton, 1997), 99–100. 27. Aaron Copland and Vivian Perlis, Copland 1900 through 1945 (New York: St. Martin’s, 1984), 195. 28. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1963, 4. 29. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1966, 3. 30. Conservatoire Américain student registries and Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletins, November 1967, November 1968, November 1970, CA/F. 31. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1971, 1, 3. 32. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, April 1961, 6. 33. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Martha Crawford, October 10, 1968, CA/NY. 34. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, April 1961, 9. 35. Watson, diaries, 1963. 36. Letter, Ethelston Chapman to Louise Talma, undated 1960s, CA/GA. 37. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Gladys Detweiler, November 22, 1968, CA/GA. 38. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Martha Crawford, October 15, 1968, CA/NY. 39. Watson, diaries, July 5, 1972. 40. Letter, Lillian Phillips to Georgia Vraz, September 22, 1963, CA/GA. 41. Letter, Marie Ellen de Bolt to Georgia Vraz, October 6, 1963, CA/GA. 42. Letter, Marie Ellen de Bolt to Georgia Vraz, October 6, 1963, CA/GA. 43. Letter, Lillian Phillips to Georgia Vraz, September 22, 1963, CA/GA. 44. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Peggy and Quinto Maganini, September 6, 1966, CA/GA. 45. Barbara Gable, “Dear Diary,” Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1963, 3. 46. Watson, diaries, August 14, 1966, possession of author. 108 � Chapter Eight 06-549_Ch08.qxd 10/30/06 6:38 AM Page 108 C H A P T E R N I N E � Interlude 3: Emile Naoumoff on Growing Up at Fontainebleau (1970s) Many child prodigies began studying at the Conservatoire Américain de Fontainebleau during the 1950s, growing up surrounded by major artists and teachers while at the same time playing hide-and-seek in the Palais corridors. Pi- anist and composer Emile Naoumoff began studying at the Conservatoire Améri- cain when he was eight years old.1 I arrived in Paris in the winter of 1970 and I met Nadia Boulanger in an ad hoc meeting that was scheduled over the fall during our stay. We were from Bulgaria. We were behind the iron curtain, so it wasn’t like something you could do from back there. My father obtained the authorization to travel abroad in a western country, which was very difficult. . . . So [using the pre- text of his father’s participation in a medical congress], we took the train and traveled on the Orient Express for many days and nights. While in Bulgaria, where I started music when I was five, my piano teacher mentioned the name of Nadia Boulanger by adding: “she is probably dead by now.” Because of the communication of the time, in context, things were not so obvious. Nadia Boulanger received only on Wednesdays in Paris. Wednesday was the sacred day for her analysis class. It was like the group class; the rest she taught privately. And it was an institution, these Wednesdays, because she taught this for the past, probably fifty years. [After] the Wednesday class, she would allow people to come and meet her, guests, friends, students, mu- sicians; and it was a salon, open to art culture in France, all kinds of people who gathered in her apartment. So, one of those Wednesdays I went there, and I performed for her. In one of her books she remembers this—but I 109 06-549_Ch09.qxd 10/30/06 6:39 AM Page 109 remember it even more vividly since I interrupted my playing to tell her that I would like to play for her a minuet I had composed. I played for her and at this point she stopped me after my minuet and she asked to talk to my parents, who were in the room, among other—unknown to me at the time—friends, who were composers like Jean Françaix and Stravinsky’s son. [She] asked my parents for me to be able to study with her for ten years. She would not ask for any fee, and she would even find scholarships for me. She asked my parents for them to find ways to find income so that they could stay around, so I was not alone. [I was] eight years [old], and she was eighty-four. Ten years [almost] happened. It was nine and a half, actually. And it was planned like this for every week: two or three private three-hour lessons with discovery, lesson practice, examinations. It was private sessions as well as ex- ercises, counterpoint, fugue, harmony, sight-reading, keyboard. Basically the idea was to make a complete musician. Because I was thirsty and hungry with my God’s gift, as she would say, I had more responsibility to work harder. And for somebody her age to want to do something [for] ten years is almost vi- sionary or irresponsible. For my parents it meant, of course, never seeing Bul- garia again, because it was impossible to travel. So when I was there I was a child and she was a very old lady. The first summer of mine in Fontainebleau was July of ’71, the fiftieth an- niversary of the school. And so my first lesson was in fact in Fontainebleau, after this meeting [in Paris]. I began discovering music in Fontainebleau. [That year] I saw Copland come and play his pieces in the Salle des Colonnes and I saw Souzay come to give master classes and Stravinsky’s son came to give master classes and I played for him too. And so many people of such dif- ferent backgrounds came to pay homage to the school, of course, to [Boulanger] mostly, at that point. I had three or four private solfège lessons of two hours a week . . . as well as Nadia’s three-hour lessons each week. Plus the group student classes at Fontainebleau as well as in Paris . . . the analysis class, keyboard harmony . . . within two or three years I was able to write complex thoughts in music, which were in my brain but I couldn’t exteriorize . . . I was receiving all this knowledge of the nineteenth century, of a complete musicianship attitude—part pianist, part keyboardist, part accompanist of singers, transposing, sight-reading, as well as playing the accompaniment of the Bach cantatas we sang there each summer in Fontainebleau . . . and therefore played a continuo in the three parts without any, hopefully, mis- takes in the voice leading. In the sight-reading, even, on the keyboard. At the same time, [I had to] practice technique on the piano. In other words, 110 � Chapter Nine 06-549_Ch09.qxd 10/30/06 6:39 AM Page 110 [she wanted us to] be challenged to be the best you can at several disciplines, organ included. It could have easily driven me crazy, if I hadn’t been as hun- gry and thirsty for music as I had been, so I think she must have been amused—she used to call me the gift of her old age. She could, I guess, transmit a certain essence of what she was, century- long, from her teachers, like Fauré, to her early students like Copland or her incredible sister. I arrived about sixty or seventy years after all these people in her life and so she, [at the] sunset of her life passed me this torch and Fontainebleau presented literally the headiest moments of my life because every summer I was even more so close to music-making without boundaries, so to speak. For me Fontainebleau was expected like the moment of pure joy because from the crack of dawn until the evening late at night, I would be in a musi- cal bath and she let me be as such very free in my endeavors in music, com- position-wise, and interpretation-wise to some extent. She didn’t dictate, you know: feel like this, how don’t you dare hear it like me. She insisted, [though I was] a child, on a monstrous discipline in exercises, be it counterpoint, fugue, scales, or whatever it is. So on one side I understood that I’m allowed no consideration and on the other side I was allowed all the freedom that the nonconcessions were allowing. Very early [Boulanger and Dieudonné made me] understand in my consciousness that I was able to receive discipline in order—and at the same time, in my creativity, to develop my freedom. Fontainebleau was even more so interesting [than study in Paris during the year], because in two months, or a month and a half, of the intense sessions of days that were long like weeks. [Because] of interaction with an incredible amount of various musicians, the Americans as well (that’s where I learned my American language, phonetically—because she was teaching with her French accent—it was hilarious) but nevertheless, this interaction between the students, this proximity, the lunches and dinners with the students, im- provised concerts, the sight-readings, the transcriptions of pieces that weren’t called as such, just in order to sing them, play them, love them, dis- cover them, build them, rebuild them; and [we were] basically playing with Legos, with cantatas by Bach. [The Conservatoire Américain de Fontainebleau] allowed all of these var- ious aspects of Nadia’s musicianship to be geographically in one place, and what a place. And at the same time it gave the impression that she was go- ing to teach the indigenous knowledge. This was the way she was criticized by those who didn’t like her, Messiaen and others—that she was so involved with the American students and it was jealousy in many ways because of her incredible influence on American musicians. And that was Fontainebleau. Interlude 3: Emile Naoumoff (1970s) � 111 06-549_Ch09.qxd 10/30/06 6:39 AM Page 111 My relationship with Boulanger was far from being the teacher-student— it was more like a way of life that I was taught. I was taught all these things about hearing music, and Fontainebleau, when I calculated at one point— nine summers, ten summers as a student—represented almost two years of the most intense moments. I went from childhood to adolescence—of course being a child prodigy and, in the ’70s, I was not the typical adolescent of today. I was mastering re- versible counterpoint, I couldn’t tie my shoe, I was perfectly unadapted for everyday life. I was the perfect example of a child prodigy, with its awkward- ness . . . so Fontainebleau represented a place where I was comfortable be- cause all the realities of life didn’t exist. The restaurant and the hotel, and the concerts and the visiting professors and the accompaniment and the Bach cantata build-up and Nadia’s classes and private lessons and the ping- pong games at the Hôtel d’Albe and the Frisbee games, my first words in En- glish, all my American friends, my first girlfriend—everything had to happen—all this happened, basically, in Fontainebleau. Like you are told in summertime, do the things that are necessary in the development of a human personality. I happened to do them in Fontainebleau. I met my wife in Fontainebleau, but that was after Nadia’s death. The advantage of Fontainebleau for me that was the most important wasn’t even her, as much as the fact of being around all these incredible Americans, young people. One morning in August when I went to breakfast full of fugues and counterpoints in my hands, at the restaurant’s breakfast one of them said, “The King died today,” reading the Herald tribune, for Elvis Presley and I re- member saying, “Whooo?”—the same way there was this Love Story movie, and in one section of the movie they walk after she performed a Bach harpsi- chord part in a Brandenburg concerto in a private house and he goes, “You’re good at it, I think you should study music.” And she goes, “Who says I won’t? I’m going to study with Nadia Boulanger.” And he goes, “Whooo?” American students were for me the only link to America other than John Wayne and dubbed French westerns on TV, which is the only thing I knew of America. It’s true you see them drink milk and not Coca-Cola. [I thought] it was very American to drink Coca-Cola but instead they all drank boxes of milk. And the King died and everybody was crying, and I was just like, “Whooo?” so I did realize that I was sort of out of phase with things, obvi- ously. They must have had a lot of fun with me at the time. Some of them remember me as being one of those odd kids, but in any case it’s true that Fontainebleau represented more for me than for somebody who would go there as a young adult for summers, which is already an incredible endeavor when you think about the castle, and Boulanger and all that. 112 � Chapter Nine 06-549_Ch09.qxd 10/30/06 6:39 AM Page 112 [Fontainebleau] created for me an enormous amount of friendships. In ’84, I visited New York for the first time in my life, and went into Juilliard, where Cathy, [now] my wife, was studying at the time. I entered Juilliard, and it was like—I could hear five or six people going, “Hi Emile,” in the cafeteria— people who were finishing studies after Fontainebleau who were there. I go someplace else unexpectedly, somebody says oh, I was in Fontainebleau in ’73, remember me? ’76? Remember me ’73, ’74? That’s why the Alumni [As- sociation] sends the famous bulletin—more or less to try to keep up with this enormous, powerful army of alumni. On the makeup of the classes at the Conservatoire Américain and being a child among older students: [In having a child in a class of mostly adults, it is necessary to] balance the part of the frustration on the part of the adults, who feel this—it’s too easy for this kid, it’s too easy—he’s arrogant. Nadia’s treatment, humanly—not musically—but humanly, of me was that of an adult. It had drawbacks. But it had advantages. In that the students saw no complacency of hers toward me other than the fact that the fact of the two human beings next to each other must have been, as an interaction, something fascinating to watch. In the majority of [classroom] situations where I was involved, things went very well. I didn’t teach [the older students] anything; I wasn’t condescending to them, because I had perfect pitch, for instance, though they couldn’t sight- read a Bach cantata with all the clefs. No, in fact, Nadia made it a point at the beginning of my studies with her, not to teach me, the child prodigy, but the young musician, as she used to say. Therefore, as a child prodigy I didn’t have the exposure; I wasn’t exhibited as such, in concert halls or such. She refused my name to be—at least when she was the one in charge of the pro- gram—next to my age. [She did] lots of things like that, to make a certain sense that “Emile is one of us.” Of course, her religious belief was so strong, and that created a morale of humility. For her, those who could do more—those who received more, in her eyes, from God—should be even more humble than others. Which is a double-edged sword because it can hurt those who are very advanced as well as it can unnerve those who are not. She divided [the students] in her mind into two: the awakened ones, and the sleeping ones. That didn’t mean that she didn’t teach the sleeping ones, in fact, one of the best teaching lessons I got from her, a pedagogical lesson, was assisting at some other people’s lessons, where I could see them be slow as lumps to understand something. This is where she opened her mouth and said she unpeeled me like an orange, she didn’t teach me—but I guess with some you have to build the elements in order to create the fruit, not just Interlude 3: Emile Naoumoff (1970s) � 113 06-549_Ch09.qxd 10/30/06 6:39 AM Page 113 unpeel the already ripe fruit. I remember after asking her one day, why did you spend so much time with the students who couldn’t figure out whatever cadence she was trying to have him to play for such a long time, and she said, mon petit, it’s important, you always have to listen to the other. On Fontainebleau’s “civilizing” events for students: Fontainebleau dinners though added more formality because she would be the one in fact to create the opportunities for the students to have scholar- ships besides her teaching the students, she had this sort of protocol. [There were] dinners with Khachaturian, or dinner with Stravinsky’s son, or with so many people like Markevitch, or so on. It had this kind of strange fun, but unimaginable today when you meet in-vogue personalities of this level. Concerts were given in Fontainebleau every Tuesday and Friday evening, [and] you would have the postconcert reception in Nadia’s apartment. You were in fact selected by names, not by choice, [so] all of the students ended up going once to one of those cocktails. [You would be there] with the artists who just performed, in person, which is amazing [that] me, a student, a no- body, would meet and talk with Bernstein or Copland and all these people. Of course, I’d be scared to death to speak and I’d try to show a lot of presence and all these people—they would be so debonair. Nevertheless Nadia would like to have students come to this postconcert drink at her place. And drink this monstrous punch that she would make which was a horrible drink. Af- ter these cocktails we would go to the restaurant, to a special room, where she would have the dinner. Another [group] of her students would then be only the ones to get this dinner table; [there would be] the guests, the per- former, and a few students and of course some of her friends, the countesses and husbands or wives, writers, and God only knows who they were—most of us didn’t know who they were anyway. Except that they were very intelli- gent and outspoken, speaking about everything and nothing and so French and that kind of apparent superficiality compared to knowing people who would just say what they had to say. When you’re being bombarded by atti- tudes like this, you end up relatively at ease with adults, as I was. Nadia would show which fork to use with which meal and all these little things. It was kind of odd that a lady like her, at the Himalayas of [musical] stuff, would care about such basics like your fork, this, that. But mostly for young American students usually came by holding their forks straight and putting their knives in between the fork tines to cut their meat. Nadia didn’t mock that, she just tried to help them feel comfortable. For instance, if I would cross my foot and a student—a girl—was sitting next to me, she would interrupt her class to teach me a lesson about how to put my leg. 114 � Chapter Nine 06-549_Ch09.qxd 10/30/06 6:39 AM Page 114 Later, when I went to Marlboro, Rudolf Serkin’s festival, what did I see but the rest of Marlboro, [where] their tradition is to throw their dirty napkins at each other. They have a dirty napkins fight. I was like, “Oh are they going to have the napkins fight?” Mr. Serkin will send it to Mr. Lipkin, Mr. Lipkin will send it to me, I’ll send it back to whoever, and I was amused by this, looking at this thinking “Gee, that’s fun.” And [at Fontainebleau] we were like, and what will I say to the countess such-and-such and will I make a fool of my- self if I don’t remember the quotation that Nadia used during the lesson. So, every place has its own, and builds its own need for, traditions. On the legacy of study: My parents brought me all the way from Bulgaria, because [Boulanger] represented this kind of person who would know what to do with a child that had this potential. Of course, by being around her so long, and in a situation where I was a child, so devoted to her, completely free to receive all her [knowledge] . . . unlike some students who arrived to adolescent or young adults, already formed, somehow, somewhere, and they had to fill up gaps retroactively, in their understanding of their knowledge of music. With me it was all built more linearly. When I [observed] Nadia being so patient with some relatively mediocre student, compared to some other students, she taught me a lesson of life. She didn’t teach me a lesson of music only. I felt, since I saw Nadia give so much, what she gave me was not for me to keep. I cannot pretend to be all of Na- dia’s meaning. I was the meaning of her last ten years. It’s already enormous, but that’s what it is. I have to be humble. Note 1. All materials in this chapter are drawn from the author’s interview with Emile Naoumoff, October 14, 2000, possession of author. Interlude 3: Emile Naoumoff (1970s) � 115 06-549_Ch09.qxd 10/30/06 6:39 AM Page 115 06-549_Ch09.qxd 10/30/06 6:39 AM Page 116 P A R T I V “APRÈS ELLE LE DELUGE” 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 117 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 118 C H A P T E R T E N � “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) The Conservatoire Américain marked its fiftieth anniversary in 1971. A half- century had passed since Francis Casadesus and Walter Damrosch had begun their venture, the creation of a renowned institution of musical learning. Planning for celebratory events began in the United States, where the American office pursued prominent alumni for their support and sought their presence in Fontainebleau during summer 1971. A golden, shining façade was created by the presence of Aaron Copland; Yehudi and Jeremy Menuhin; Queen Fredericka and Princess Irene of Greece; Beveridge Webster; Soulima Stravinsky; and Janet Price; but away from the parties, commemorative con- certs, and celebrity master classes, the French and American councils were facing the problem of Boulanger’s decline, and with it, the possible end of the Conservatoire. Some tensions had always existed between the French Conseil d’Admin- istration and the American Fontainebleau Alumni Association. Written off as cultural differences, the ubiquitous problems of controlling the student ad- mission process, hiring professors, and distributing funds diminished in the wake of more serious issues of preparing the school for Boulanger’s eventual death and finding her successor. However, as it was with many of the com- mon matters raised between the school’s two governing bodies, much talk oc- curred but little action was taken. Jean Casadesus, sensing an opportunity in the making, began to agitate for the Conseil to appoint him as assistant di- rector.1 He was refused, and the American office branded him as overambi- tious and grasping. Unhappy with the way Jean had tried to promote his 119 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 119 classes at Fontainebleau without its blessing, the New York office wrote of his proposed appointment that, “We feel certain that Nadia is not even aware of this. The officers of the Alumni refuse to do anything to hurt Nadia. She is still the Director, no matter what Robert, Gaby, and Jean think.”2 However, Jean was not wrong in his belief that the Conservatoire needed an heir-designee to the throne. Nadia Boulanger’s health was declining at an alarming pace: her eyesight failed to the point of blindness, despite cataract operations; and her hearing was poor enough to require hearing aids for both ears. Her sense of pitch was considerably affected; and her arthritis had crip- pled her to such extent that she was reduced to teaching from a wheelchair, asking students to play their exercises on the piano for her. She could no longer do it herself. Of concern, too, were the numerous summer music programs that were gaining popularity in the United States. American students were no longer expected to study in Europe in order to be considered finished musicians but could remain at home and, for comparable or lower costs, study with impor- tant performers and instructors. The Tanglewood and Aspen festival schools, along with the festival held at Marlboro and Yale’s summer study program, had begun to gain prestige prior to Boulanger’s ultimate decline and had grown enormously popular and successful. The Conservatoire was going to have to compete increasingly with university-affiliated and orchestra-affiliated sum- mer programs—sometimes both, as in the case of Tanglewood. While these stateside schools carried with them the support of their affiliates and could rely on large endowments or consortiums of dedicated concert artists for fund- ing, Fontainebleau stood alone. That the Conservatoire Américain should have had such problems stay- ing afloat was unbelievable to those who read the lists of alumni names and saw the rosters of the faculty hired each year. However, the school’s French administrative duties continued to be carried out by volunteers or by students and alumni working for scholarships and small honoraria. The American of- fice of the Fontainebleau Association was entirely an amateur endeavor, and little was done to rally alumni around their summertime alma mater other than plaintive begging that ran in the corners of the Alumni Bulletin. The op- eration was marked by an ineffectiveness that was perplexing to its more so- phisticated supporters. Alumni seemed to be somewhat indifferent to the fate of the school, perhaps assuming that it received all it needed from the French government or American governmental and private arts foundations. In planning for the Conservatoire’s golden anniversary, a monumental direct- mail effort was put forth by the volunteer officers, but to little avail. “I see Copland will give a program,” wrote Marie Brodeur, head of the New York 120 � Chapter Ten 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 120 office, of the upcoming celebrations. “He does pay dues. I wish he would give some real money, for a change. I am discouraged, where to look for money.”3 With numerous attractive opportunities to study in the United States available, students accepted by the Conservatoire often declined to attend, citing inability to finance a summer abroad when similar training could be had for less at home.4 This left the school in a poor position financially, be- cause faculty salaries and other arrangements were budgeted before a final tally of enrollments was made. Social changes also affected the handling of matters. Students accustomed to the attitudes and mores of the 1960s frequently circumvented Boulanger’s strict codes of behavior, and officers of the councils and board were well aware that any successor to Boulanger would have to be more forward-thinking in terms of students’ perspectives. Women might actually be allowed to wear slacks in the presence of a director, and the “hippie” students, as criticized by Clarence Brodeur, nonetheless paid much-needed tuition, and would have to be cultivated as alumni supporters of the school.5 Faculty would have to be flexible as well. Jean Casadesus proved popular with students, although a deep dislike of the Casadesus family remained among Boulanger’s clique. Marie Brodeur was strongly enough opposed to the Casadesus family that she re- peatedly made mention of what she retrospectively judged to be a devastating choice for the school: I’m still kicking myself; when Fragnaud cabled me (when Philipp quit on [the Conservatoire Américain]) and said the choice was to Casadesus or Cortot. Casadesus was getting quite a reputation around America then and Cortot was fading out, so I cabled back, Casadesus. I sometimes wonder if it wasn’t a big mistake.6 The Casadesuses—who were teaching, coaching, and mentoring students as usual, as well as trying to plan for the school’s future—weren’t really the problem, but few administrators were willing to admit where the real issues lay. The more immediate problem was getting Boulanger to accept the fact that she would not be able to retain her hold on the school forever. The view from the French Conseil d’Administration was that while Jean Casadesus might very well make a worthy director, some kind of compromise acceptable to the Americans would have to be made. But in the interim, time seemed to be on Boulanger’s side, and then the issue of a successor was further com- plicated by a tragedy in the Fontainebleau community when Jean Casadesus was killed in an automobile accident on January 20, 1972, while on tour in Canada. The Casadesus family was shattered, and Jean’s students likewise “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) � 121 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 121 mourned. The 1972 session of the Conservatoire Américain opened on July 4 with a mass for Jean, attended by the entire student body. True to form, the discipline of the students was not altered significantly: there was still prac- ticing to be done for the upcoming concerts and lessons. Elsie Watson wrote: Of course the day began with practicing and then at 11:30, there was a mass for Jean Casadesus. Lila Gene and I went—lots of music, a recording of the slow movement of a Mozart concerto—Jean’s own recording—Ed Phillips played the organ and M. Derenne sang. It was very sad.7 Despite the loss of its most popular piano professor, the summer progressed much like any other at Fontainebleau, but with a few important distinctions in the behavior of visiting artists. The steady decline of Boulanger, an aging faculty, and what was perceived as the Conservatoire’s reluctance to change with the times, brought about, for the first time, some very vocal criticism by traditional supporters of the Conservatoire’s students and methods. Sir Clif- ford Curzon, Nikita Magaloff, Soulima Stravinsky, and Jeanne-Marie Darré gave master classes that seem often to have been harsh. Elsie Watson wryly remarked on Magaloff ’s teaching: Mr. Magaloff is very negative and highly critical. He uses such terms as “ruin,” “spoil,” “distort,” “you don’t understand,” “monotonous” to describe the stu- dents’ efforts. He himself makes a beautiful sound on the piano and knows all the literature so well it is a pity he is so insensitive to the students’ feelings. For two days he has been belaboring the fact that we (the students he’s heard) hit the keys. We are all disposed to try to think of ways not to.8 The Alumni Bulletin, normally an organ of positive reinforcement of Fontainebleau traditions and events, included an article referring to the classes: “Whether this superlative coaching was always understood is another matter, for the ego is tender, and the master-class situation is sometimes ag- onizing for the performer.”9 Typically, Boulanger chose students to play in the master classes: her younger protégés almost always played in every class, with the remaining time allocated for older students, a long-term tactic appreciated less and less by the nonprodigal students, who, not infrequently, had passed up other opportunities to attend the Conservatoire. Other students came to Fontainebleau only to be asked to leave again: instrumentalists frequently had been obligated to travel away from Fontainebleau for their instruction, but usually not farther than Paris, an hour away by train. Violin students of Yehudi Menuhin who arrived at the Palais to study with the virtuoso were 122 � Chapter Ten 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 122 informed that all violinists were required to travel to Menuhin’s home in Gstaad, Switzerland, for their lessons. Because of the distance and expense involved, they journeyed en masse to Gstaad, where they stayed in Menuhin’s home for a week of coaching. The violin students were in fact studying with Menuhin, but they were not actually at Fontainebleau. They resented not experiencing classes, events, and student life at the Palais, causing several to complain about the arrangement. Their musical training, which they anticipated being in the style of the Conservatoire’s earlier days, fell short of expectations. Fewer and fewer students were allowed to take part in master classes and concerts as Boulanger filled them with guests or allowed select students to monopolize student performance op- portunities. Angry letters disturbed the American office, and enrollment fell steadily. By 1974, Conservatoire President François Valéry was forced to admit that the New York office was bankrupt and that the school was in danger of closing permanently. In France, Boulanger and her assistants worked to increase class size and recruit sponsors and spokesmen for the Conservatoire. Concert repertoire was managed by Boulanger with the goal of increased audience attendance and therefore profits. Fontainebleau’s citizenry could be counted on to at- tend recitals of French music sprinkled with bits of Bach and Mozart, and that is exactly what they got. Professors taught the same works year after year, hoping to create their own brand of performer through the use of the administration-approved French repertoire, but instead this often led the students to create bland and indistinguishable performances. Students occa- sionally were required to pay for their own tickets to the biggest events, a consideration that did not sit well with many, especially with those who had attended in previous years and had become accustomed to open admittance to all Conservatoire-sponsored concerts.10 The monies went to scholarship and general funds; every dollar and franc was desperately needed. The repertoire selected for concerts during this time appears remarkably staid in light of contemporary composition and of the works being produced by Fontainebleau’s student composers. Works by Messiaen were presented at only two concerts, and while Poulenc and Dutilleux were accepted, along with perennial Fontainebleau figure Jean Françaix, no other avant-garde French composers were heard. The Conservatoire may have encouraged its students to prepare and present French works, but those of Jolivet, Boulez, Murail, and other composers whose works were widely accessible, though not purely tonal, were rarely performed. The occasional “foreigner” slipped in: Dallapiccola, for example, enjoyed a brief vogue among students. However, the substance of student and faculty concerts alike was drawn from the late “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) � 123 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 123 nineteenth and early-twentieth centuries: Fauré, Debussy, Ravel, and Couperin appeared repeatedly on programs given in the Jeu de Paume and Salle des Colonnes.11 One could count on hearing Ravel’s “Tzigane” and at least six piano works by Debussy played more than three times each summer. The composition of the student body changed significantly in the 1970s as well. The founding by-laws, established in the 1920s, prevented more than a small number of non-American students from attending the Conservatoire. At a March 1972 Conseil meeting, falling enrollments and strong competi- tion from stateside summer programs and academies prompted a discussion among members about the admission of large numbers of non-American stu- dents. In addition, the minimum number of students the Conservatoire Américain required to open, starting in 1973, was established at 100 to 110. Tuition was raised in order to offset the decline of the franc, and concerns were voiced that American students would balk at the price tag of $800, up from $750 the year before. At the same time, Boulanger asked for professo- rial and administrative salary raises. To offset these costs, she argued, the Conservatoire would have to accept students from Europe and Asia. In order to do this, François Valéry commented, the by-laws would have to be altered somewhat. After all, the school had begun as a summer conser- vatory for Americans, and should the majority of students be non-Americans, the Conservatoire would be in violation of its original charter and purpose. Despite this argument, Boulanger was firm. She was willing to risk having a smaller number of Americans in exchange for improved classes—meaning more students, better students, and wealthier students. Clinicians should, with Boulanger’s heavy-handed guidance, be able to select students of any background to perform for them. Valéry conceded that the admission of stu- dents to master classes was up to the clinician, but that overall the ratio of American to non-American students must remain high.12 Enrollment rosters show that the number of students from Asia and the Continent rose slowly but steadily after this meeting, including many young French musicians. The school began to achieve a more diversified and cosmopolitan atmosphere, something much appreciated by the students, but the easing of the restric- tions on student nationalities also paved the way for non-French musicians to serve as faculty members. Once again the issue of the Conservatoire’s pur- pose would have to be raised and defined. Despite the fact that inclusion of non-French citizens contravened the de- sires of the Conservatoire’s founders, other Europeans and Americans had served as faculty from the school’s beginning, often bringing with them mu- sical styles and interpretations reflecting their own backgrounds. Earlier ad- ministrations had been reluctant to alter this tenet formally, although, in the 124 � Chapter Ten 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 124 1920s, Francis Casadesus had required a Russian singer to take out French citizenship in order to become a member of the faculty. As the era of Boulanger waned, it became clear that strong American intervention would be needed to keep students returning to Fontainebleau. Thus Casadesus’s na- tionalistic intentions were thrust aside by practicality. As Boulanger declined into a state of physical and mental collapse, sev- eral of her students were finally but informally recognized as her successors. Two of Boulanger’s students stood out as natural leaders following her tenure: Louise Talma was Boulanger’s godchild, a formidable and well- regarded composer and teacher in the United States. Robert Levin, an American pianist, conductor, and composer, was a perfect choice to fit the role as well. Unfortunately for the school and both of these musicians was the fact that they shared one ineradicable flaw: they were not French, and, apart from the loosening of strictures regarding student nationality, the di- rector still had to be French. With American officers lobbying for a change in the Conservatoire’s statutes, the French Conseil stood its ground on this matter and would not allow changes to the dictate that had so long gov- erned the conservatory: French musicians, led by a Frenchman, teaching American musicians. More limiting was the fact that a formal search for an heir to Boulanger was postponed again and again as she persisted in at- tempting to control the school herself. Boulanger was not the only person resisting the inevitable. At an Alumni Association meeting on April 12, 1976, a statement was made to the effect that “Mademoiselle Boulanger feels better every day.” Members of the Amer- ican office lauded the director’s stamina and drive, but none truly was cog- nizant of her condition. The French Conseil knew that the Americans were deluding themselves by believing such fairy tales, and François Valéry wrote time and again to the Alumni Association providing a more realistic view of the situation. He also put forth his aims and intentions in his correspon- dence: he wanted to keep the Conservatoire Américain as a place that pre- served Boulanger’s traditions, but he did not want to see it limited to any par- ticular instruments or professors. The Conservatoire obviously needed to keep its relationship with the United States strong, although with recent changes, would admitting even greater numbers students from countries other than America become more acceptable?13 Valéry also stressed the need for increased funding, suggesting a partnership with Yale or another university or conservatory. He hoped to use the names of Copland, Boulanger, and others to raise the money necessary to create a one- to two-million-dollar endowment. Boulanger herself was no longer capable of such fund-raising work, and this all-important task would necessarily fall to “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) � 125 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 125 others. Writing to the Brodeurs in February of 1977, Valéry described his most recent meeting with Boulanger, on a ceremonial occasion: I found Nadia exceedingly tired. She could not stand and hardly replied to the President’s address, though she talked with me afterwards with her usual pres- ence of mind, quoting Saint Paul, etc. But I feel sure that, if she is to come to Fontainebleau, she will only be able to see one or two students every day. An- nette [Dieudonné] is very pessimistic, and sees her declining from week to week. I am extremely worried. What are we to do? If our students come ex- pecting to study with Nadia and find she is not there or cannot give lessons, what will be their reaction. On the other hand, we cannot cancel our session. Last but not least, it is impossible to discuss the situation with Nadia. Annette told me that only her work keeps her alive. “It would kill her if she thought she would not go to Fontainebleau.” It’s all very sad and disquieting.14 Clarence Brodeur replied to Valéry in harsh tones, characterizing the pres- ident’s idea of fund-raising “a fantasy,” and insisting that Boulanger was ca- pable of recognizing the status of her own health and dealing with the prob- lem of finding a successor. Brodeur went on to demand Valéry’s silence on the whole matter, asserting that the Conservatoire would be sued by students if they arrived in Fontainebleau prepared to study with Boulanger and found her unavailable for any reason.15 In May, Valéry wrote again to the American board, pleading for assistance. Boulanger was getting much worse, and a solution was needed immediately. Valéry had been in contact with a number of American music professors, among them Conservatoire alumnus Robert Levin, then teaching at the State University of New York at Purchase. Levin, James Harrison, and Louis Martin, two other students of Boulanger’s, were asked by Valéry to step in and assist the school. Levin began teaching classes at Fontainebleau in 1979, and Harrison served as president of the board of trustees in New York. The trio began to make concrete plans for the school’s future. “My job,” Harrison commented, “was to get the best out of all possible situations.”16 While the administrators of the Conservatoire struggled against time and one another, the students continued as before. Each June, young American musicians arrived at the Fontainebleau-Avon train station and made their ways to the Hôtel d’Albe and the Palais. Little changed during this time, and in fact, students began to chafe at what appeared to them as old-school ap- proaches and methods. By the mid-1970s, Boulanger no longer taught in any realistic sense, and her classes were taken over by Dieudonné, Talma, and Levin. Dieudonné and Talma tried to present the “Nadia style” to the fresh, new Fontainebleau stu- 126 � Chapter Ten 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 126 dents, but met with limited success. Talma’s own style and personality over- came her deference to Boulanger-type tactics, and Dieudonné’s teaching was growing stale, a formula made old by year after year of rote instruction.17 In 1978 Boulanger taught her last classes at Fontainebleau. She addressed the student body as a whole, held a few group classes, and met with private students during the first few weeks of the session. Not long after the session had begun, it was announced that Mademoiselle would not be teaching for the rest of the summer; indeed, she spent much of the rest of the session in the local hospital, relocating to her Paris apartment at the end of August. Students felt sympathy for the famed pedagogue, but Boulanger no longer commanded the same attention, respect, and fear that she had before. Beginning in June 1979, the Conservatoire at last had begun making con- cessions to the decline of its leader. Robert Levin essentially took over the program, designing a new format for chamber music and analysis. Repertoire assigned to chamber music ensembles was the same as that studied in the analysis class, an idea so obviously practical that it was embraced by the stu- dents wholeheartedly. A quartet-in-residence was hired to coach the students and to perform in the Jeu de Paume concerts, and private lessons were pro- vided for guitar and wind players. While Boulanger was physically present at Fontainebleau during a portion of the 1979 session, her health was such that she did not receive students or teach, and her mental condition was equally poor: she had difficulty recognizing familiar faces and often was confused. Staunch supporters could no longer delude themselves into believing in the myths that had so long prevailed concerning her unflagging ability to rise up from dissent, depression, or ill health to continue her work; everyone present knew that it was simply a matter of time before she died. Yet no formal pro- ceedings were undertaken to replace her before her death: discussions were conducted in hushed and reverent tones, as if such planning might somehow offend the unaware director. No audit was conducted to assess the financial situation of the school during this period, and it appears that none of Boulanger’s former or current protégés or long-time acolytes entered into meaningful conversation with their mentor to address her intentions or de- sires for the school’s future. When Boulanger died on October 22, 1979, the Conservatoire Améri- cain was left without a director, a dictator, or a determined future. In meet- ings of the French and American councils, a committee was formed to su- pervise the Conservatoire’s transition from the Boulanger era into a new age. Much like the committee that had established the school in 1921, this group included composers, performers, and a member of the Casadesus fam- ily: François Valéry, composers Henri Dutilleux, Pierre Boulez, and Olivier “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) � 127 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 127 Messiaen; former Boulanger protégé Igor Markevitch; violin professor Zino Francescatti; flutist Jean-Pierre Rampal; and Gaby Casadesus were all pres- ent. Matters were grave: curriculum and finances needed stability, and the Palais administration deemed it necessary to remove the school from its home in the Louis XV wing to the Henri IV wing in the rear of the chateau. At a meeting of the Conseil in November 1979, Narcis Bonet was appointed director of the conservatory.18 The committee’s choice of Bonet was startling to some. After all, com- mented Emile Naoumoff, “when Nadia died, we felt like Louise Talma could have been the sort of immediate continuator, since Louise was her godchild and she dressed like her, she imitated her voice like her; she was the senior woman, female American composer, she was . . . sort of Boulanger without all of the severity.”19 However, Talma was seventy-three when Boulanger died, and the school needed a director with energy and immense managerial experience, something Talma lacked. At the time, Bonet was the assistant di- rector at the École Normale de Musique in Paris and thus well accustomed to the logistics, politics, and countless other facets of running such an insti- tution. A French citizen born in Barcelona, Bonet had studied composition with Boulanger and Igor Markevitch at the Paris Conservatory. At the time of his appointment as director of the Conservatoire, he was well known for his École Normale position and had won several prizes for his music. Proud of his Catalan heritage, Bonet’s works were firmly centered in the neoclassi- cism of Stravinsky, as Talma’s had been, while employing Catalan folk music and cultural influences. The head of several Catalan associations and clearly adept at managing personnel, financial resources, and developmental re- quirements, he seemed to the committee a natural choice to lead the Con- servatoire Américain. The immediate crisis was keeping the school open. Without the gravitas of Boulanger’s name and influence to hold them, wealthy donors and patrons disappeared. “It was clear that the halcyon days of a hundred students, Bernac and Curzon were over,” says Harrison of the period. “We couldn’t pre- tend that it would be the same kind of place [without Boulanger].”20 The planned move to the Henri IV quarters of the Palais—which, according to the chateau’s chief architect, was absolutely necessary for safety reasons—was projected to cost more than one million francs, and the Ministry of Culture was unable to guarantee the school the necessary subsidies for the relocation. Valéry proposed naming the school “École Nadia Boulanger” in hopes of in- creasing income and recognition, but the councils did not take up the idea. An affiliation with the State University of New York was discussed, but for the 1980 session, the Conservatoire remained independent.21 128 � Chapter Ten 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 128 The 1980 session was overshadowed by Boulanger’s death. Dozens of me- morial services were held in Paris and Fontainebleau, and maudlin eulogies spilled from the pages of the Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin and from the let- ters of students. With members of the board and faculty stepping into their roles fully for the first time, constantly worrying about finances and contin- uing Boulanger’s traditions, and participating in the frequent concerts mark- ing her passing, much of the day-to-day work fell to those who had been with the school the longest, regardless of their formal rank. Of this situation and the 1980 session itself, Emile Naoumoff commented that, “the summer after Nadia died, I basically carried it all on my shoulders because a., I spoke En- glish, b., I was a member of the ‘furniture,’ and c., I was enthusiastic.”22 Naoumoff ’s remark about being part of the “furniture” of Fontainebleau was made with both pride and bitterness. He had been at the Conservatoire for so long that he was taken for granted: he would teach, he would administer, he would hold the school to its past as Boulanger’s territory. Yet, he said, “There was nothing to propose other than that [which] was post-Nadia. How many years can you do every program, ‘In memoriam Nadia Boulanger?’ I’m the first to have asked to stop that, but in a way it sold the program.” His complaints rang true: in their efforts to continue Boulanger’s empire, the Conseil d’Administration and faculty were stymied by a lack of vision and by an absence of the force necessary to create a new purpose for being. At the same time, though, the name of Boulanger still did “sell the pro- gram.” Students continued to pour through the doors of the Palais and the Hôtel d’Albe. The faculty coped as best they could. Bonet himself taught solfège, conducting, and theory, and Naoumoff taught analysis, ear-training, solfège, and chamber music. Levin, too, gave courses in chamber music and analysis, and new professors were hired as full faculty members. The master- class professors included Dutilleux and Betsy Jolas for composition, Claude Helfer for piano, Igor Markevitch for conducting, Jean-Pierre Rampal for flute, Maurice Gendron for cello, Narciso Yepes and Alberto Ponce for gui- tar, Henryk Szeryng for violin, and Genevieve Joy for chamber music.23 Repertoire remained constant: Fauré, Debussy, Ravel; but with the inclusion of Boulez on the guiding committee around this time, composition students appear to have been released from the limiting bonds set by Boulanger in re- gard to dodecaphonic and experimental forms or composition. In August 1980, at the end of the first post-Boulanger session, the Conser- vatoire’s pianos, music, and furnishings were moved into their new lodgings in the Henri IV wing of the Palais de Fontainebleau. The Henri IV wing, once home to the chateau’s kitchens, was a step down from the airy and elegant spaciousness of the Louis XV wing. Here, on the ground floor, the ceilings “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) � 129 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 129 were low, the walls were covered in old and poorly applied plaster, and the damp rose out of the ancient building and was absorbed by instruments. Mu- sic once housed in a proper library was filed away in cardboard boxes, and bare bulbs hung in the center of small, echoing practice rooms. Up a winding stair at the end of a dark hallway, more rooms provided lovely views of the Jardin Anglais but were marred by uneven and broken flooring, a lack of music stands, and a lively acoustic that was, if possible, worse than that in the rooms below. Alumni and administration alike were devastated by the depressing new surroundings. “It was an odd feeling,” wrote Elsie Watson in the Alumni Bulletin, “to pass the Louis XV wing and think that it was ‘ours’ no longer.”24 Naoumoff described the situation further, looking past the physical properties of the school to an interpretation of the entire enterprise: “the new building [was] a disaster compared to the old building, the funding [was] not coming, the deficits [were] building, the hotels [needed] to be repaired—the whole re- ality of the stage of this operetta showing its backstage, the corpse. It was like the decay of it.”25 While they caused dismay, the accommodations did not wholly deter stu- dents or faculty, and in late 1980 the Conservatoire found a musical partner with whom it seemed it could rely for support and assistance through its tran- sition and well into the future: the Mannes College of Music. In becoming affiliated with a highly regarded New York music school, it appeared that the venerable French institution had found exactly what it needed: a stable, well- known American partner with access to funding, knowledge of publicity, and an administrative system that alleviated the strain on Fontainebleau’s volun- teer forces. The Mannes College also had historical ties to Fontainebleau, a fact that was not lost on Conservatoire administrators. The Mannes College of Music had been founded by David Mannes and his wife, Clara Damrosch Mannes, the sister of Walter Damrosch, in 1916. Under the direction of their son Leopold—a Prix de Rome winner—the school became a four-year college, offering a Bachelor of Music degree. Past faculty included conductor George Szell, composers Georges Enesco and Bo- huslav Martinu, and Felix Salzer, a protégé of theorist Heinrich Schenker. Since its founding, Mannes had become one of the preeminent conservato- ries in the United States, and had the support of countless musicians and phi- lanthropists from its earliest days, when the Damrosch and Mannes names were frequently in print on the society pages. There was a Casadesus con- nection as well: the Casadesus siblings had made their early music ensemble American debut at the school in the 1920s. Philosophically, Mannes was ex- ceptionally compatible with Boulanger’s conception of the Conservatoire, stressing, as she had done, excellence in counterpoint, harmony, analysis, 130 � Chapter Ten 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 130 ear-training, and keyboard skills—integrated elements that were taught in its distinguished Techniques of Music course, developed by Salzer during his tenure as director of the college and based on the French system taught at the Paris Conservatory. Its partnership with the Conservatoire Américain would further bolster its reputation and provide a European summer program for its students and faculty. The partnership had come about through the work of James Harrison, who along with Levin was heavily involved in the restruc- turing and continuation of the Conservatoire during Boulanger’s decline and following her death. Harrison initially approached Mannes President Charles Kaufman, whom he had met while they were colleagues at Hunter College, about a collaboration between the schools around this time. Kaufman recalls, At that time, [ . . . ] Jim Harrison got a hold of me . . . And Jim said, “Do you know about the Conservatoire?” and I said, “What am I, an idiot?” I said sure, Boulanger’s gone; you lost her a couple of years ago. And he explained to me that she was what she was; we all know what a remarkable person she was and what she did. But it was sort of “après moi le deluge,”—of course it was “après elle le deluge”—and . . . the place was in a big mess. And he said, “would you like to get involved in this?”26 Kaufman had just become president of the college, following a political struggle in which the Mannes faculty had first removed its board of trustees, followed shortly by the president of the college. A music historian trained at Columbia and New York University, Kaufman had served as a professor at Mannes for four years when he was appointed president in 1979. Asking Har- rison for a year’s delay in his involvement in order to devote himself fully to his work at Mannes following its own internal upheavals, Kaufman joined the American board in 1980. With his acceptance of a position on the coun- cil, the Mannes College was in a position to provide stability for the Con- servatoire within the United States, something it sorely lacked because of the declining health and interest of the older alumni who had for so long served as admissions committees, advertising agencies, and publicity managers all in one. In an official statement about the duties of its recent New York partner, the Fontainebleau Alumni Association wrote that, “Mannes will assist us in such areas as student recruitment, design and distribution of publicity mate- rials, fund-raising, and the future development of curriculum.”27 In return, the American council told its members, “Fontainebleau will guarantee the admission of a number of Mannes students each year.” A faculty-exchange program was also to be instituted. The plan was a good one, and began as a success. The students and pro- fessors found Bonet to be an agreeable if not always organized director, but “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) � 131 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 131 the influence of Mannes personnel helped to combat the inefficiencies Americans found in the French systems. “Narcis is a very capable person—a nice guy,” says Kaufman. But, “he was not exactly what you call a man with natural flair for organization. So the place was sort of floating along . . . in a sea of garlic and olive oil, but there was very little coherence to what was go- ing on.”28 The atmosphere was pleasant, but Kaufman and his Mannes col- leagues found the school in need of a strong hand in bringing order to the chaos that too frequently caused problems within the Conservatoire’s oper- ating methods. The determined efforts of the New York administrators paid off as a number of celebrated performers returned to give master classes and concerts, and enrollment grew. The mayor of Fontainebleau presented the American administrators with medals and honors, and despite waning sup- port for the school in the days of Boulanger’s decline, citizens of the town turned out to concerts, and local espousal of the school, which had been flag- ging, gained appreciatively. The Conservatoire was once again in the spotlight because of alumni as well. Fontainebleau pianist André-Michel Schub won the Sixth Van Cliburn International Piano Competition in May 1981, propelling his career to new heights. Singer June Anderson was, at the same time, beginning her third year as a Metropolitan Opera star; and countertenor John Ferrante per- formed as a soloist and with Peter Schickele, recording numerous “P. D. Q. Bach” performances. Pianist Jay Gottlieb received a Rockefeller grant; vio- linist and composer Andreas Makris had his works premiered by Mstislav Rostropovich and the National Symphony Orchestra; and pianist Samuel Sanders performed with Itzhak Perlman, Sharon Robinson, and Mstislav Rostropovich. The introduction of new professors and clinicians to the Conservatoire Américain in the early 1980s somewhat changed the repertoire studied and methods used in classes. Much of the new approach came straight from the United States, to the consternation of some French faculty and Conseil members. “We know what kind of programs are right for American students,” the Mannes team explained, “So that what they do will be useful when they pack up and take it home with them. We are professionals at that.” Kaufman recalls, “There was, of course, a kind of résistance on the part of the French to this, you know. It was wrong, this was Fontainebleau, [ . . . ] so from the very beginning there was this kind of reticence. But they sort of went along. They really sort of went along. And for a while it was terrific.”29 Composer Betsy Jolas introduced Fontainebleau composition students to the experi- mental media used by many French composers at the time. New sound equip- ment was purchased for Jolas’s master classes, and students listened to record- 132 � Chapter Ten 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 132 ings of works produced at IRCAM, the newly opened center for electronic and computer music in Paris. This informal association and educational part- nership with IRCAM was new to the Conservatoire, and quickly became a popular and influential relationship for the composition students. IRCAM, or, as it was formally titled, L’Institut de Recherche et Coordi- nation Acoustique/Musique, was the creation of Pierre Boulez. In 1970 Boulez, on the invitation of Georges Pompidou, then president of France, had begun work on a center for research on new music and related tech- nology. Located in Paris next to the Pompidou Center and extending sev- eral floors underground, the center was fully opened in 1977 with Boulez at its head. While Boulez’s original plan organized the center into the ar- eas of electro-acoustics, computer music, pedagogy, instruments, and voice, several restructurings shaped IRCAM into its present incarnation, focused on the production of and research in computer music. Along the way the center also acquired an ensemble-in-residence, the fluid and versatile En- semble Intercontemporain, comprising virtuoso soloists from across Eu- rope. Conservatoire students touring IRCAM’s facilities took in demon- strations and received hands-on introductions to its numerous resources, including Boulez’s 4X digital audio processor, originally constructed for his work Repons, as well as to less specialized equipment and programs. Jolas’s more open approach to compositional techniques allowed for greater ex- perimentation by the students than had Boulanger’s. Consequently, stu- dent works featured in concerts in the Jeu de Paume ranged from the tonal and traditional to the extreme cutting edge, employing tape recordings, minimalist techniques, nonstandard approaches to the instruments, and other forms of sound production and interaction. In addition, members of the Ensemble Intercontemporain joined the Fontainebleau faculty rosters and performed at the Palais during the summer. The youth of the ensem- ble’s members led to natural friendships among the student population, and provided opportunities for networking and career development in a casual but productive manner. Other students found new freedoms as well. For the first time, pianists could hope to perform Rachmaninoff, as Boulanger’s decree banning his works was no longer in effect. Repertoire representative of a greater range of nationalities than before appeared in concert programs: Symanowski, Wag- ner, Dowland, and Ortiz were all heard in the Jeu de Paume. Debussy, Ravel, and Fauré were given their due, but after a long hiatus, Brahms, Schumann, Schubert, and Wolf had a renewed presence in Conservatoire Américain recitals. Milhaud, Ives, Mendelssohn, Bartók, Dohnanyi, and Hindemith were other composers heard again or for the first time in the Jeu de Paume “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) � 133 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 133 during the 1980s. The Conservatoire’s history was recognized with perform- ances of Copland and other alumni works. The number of students grew tremendously under the affiliation with Mannes. Levin, Harrison, and Kaufman decided to broaden the faculty fur- ther by inviting musicians from all over Europe to teach at Fontainebleau. Kaufman describes the situation: “The French were not thrilled with this [hir- ing non-French artists as faculty] but I mean, we had people everywhere—I was in New York, Bob Levin was in Europe, at the time he was also teaching at Freiburg, and he had many contacts in European musical circles. We ended up with some of the terrific musicians from all over Europe. We had some ter- rific people from good orchestras in Europe—top-flight people.” Enrollment increased from just a handful of pianists and composers to eighty or ninety students each summer. “They were all like lemmings,” says Kaufman of the students who followed their European teachers to Fontainebleau every year.30 Despite the climbing enrollment figures, the French Conseil had doubts about the inclusion of non-French professors. The Conservatoire Américain was, after all, intended to be a school where American musicians would study with French musicians. The doubts of the French did not deter the Ameri- cans, who were interested in creating the most successful program they could and believed that the superior musicianship training that non-French profes- sors could offer should not be limited by national boundaries. “Then, I did something, of course, that did not exactly endear me,” remembers Kaufman. He hired Mannes violin professor Shirley Givens to teach at Fontainebleau. An American, her presence—even more than that of the Europeans—stung the French. In her first year, Givens brought twenty-eight students, including prodigy Pamela Frank. In the face of such a following, and despite the dis- agreement over the fundamental nature of the faculty, the Conseil had to ad- mit that the Mannes approach was succeeding and that the Conservatoire was doing well. Bonet, as director, also thought to enlarge the Conservatoire into a more American-style summer program, choosing as his method for expansion the inclusion of an orchestra. The idea of having an orchestra and adding or- chestral playing to the curriculum had been a point of contention since the opening of the school. Boulanger, not wanting to encourage the participation of instrumentalists, had flatly denied the possibility, but with the Mannes College’s participation, fielding an orchestra seemed a more reasonable goal. However, the numbers were still not easy to achieve. Kaufman recalls that, while the general attitude toward having a chamber orchestra was positive, initial support was influenced by the fact that, “they were doing cockeyed transcriptions of things in which you had to use a comb and tissue paper be- 134 � Chapter Ten 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 134 cause they didn’t have enough oboes. It was ridiculous.”31 Valéry disagreed with Bonet’s orchestral aspirations, promoting instead the idea of a strength- ened chamber music program. It was the first of a series of conflicts in which Bonet came away as the losing party. The first argument [Bonet and Valéry] had was that Valéry thought the em- phasis should be on chamber music, because it was perfect across the board. Not just quartets but across the board to mix and match combinations. And at that time chamber music was very much in the ascendancy in the United States, and there was a burgeoning interest in it—which hasn’t really gone out of style yet. So we thought it made every good sense to do that, from every point of view. So we went that way, although Narcis was unhappy about it, the French were altogether happy.32 The American administrators had other problems with Bonet’s direction, and as time went on, these began to increasingly chafe at the sensibilities of those exerting more control. He never learned enough English to communi- cate easily with American students and faculty, which, as Kaufman says wryly, “is not very helpful, when the device you are running is called the Conservatoire Américain.” In addition, he was rumored to have pursued an affair with at least two students, and it became apparent that, notwithstand- ing his experience at the École Normale, his serious lack of organizational ability was causing rifts and strains that otherwise might not have occurred.33 “He was a cultured gentleman, a fine musician, and he wrote excellent mu- sic,” wrote Kaufman of Bonet, “but his hand was not always on the rudder.”34 The Americans began agitating for Bonet to step down, and he resigned without apparent rancor in 1986. Once again, the issue of finding a suitable person for the job arose. Emile Naoumoff, now teaching at the school, was thought still too young to com- mand the influence and power necessary to create a powerful entity in the school and to successfully lobby patrons and the government for funding. Betsy Jolas seemed an appropriate choice, and indeed in her brief tenure as a clinician and professor of composition she had become one of the more vo- cal and energetic members of the faculty, speaking on the Conservatoire’s be- half at numerous meetings and functions. Jolas grew up and was educated both in Paris and New York. At the Paris Conservatory, Jolas had studied with Messiaen and Milhaud, and had be- come known for a style that utilized contrapuntal writing gleaned from Re- naissance polyphony combined with avant-garde techniques. The daughter of a Paris literary family (her parents founded and edited the journal Tran- sition, which had published Joyce, Hemingway, and Stein), Jolas’s works “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) � 135 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 135 displayed a special ability for text-setting and vocal writing. In the 1970s she succeeded Messiaen as professor of analysis and professor of composi- tion at the Paris Conservatory. It was because of her duties at the Paris Conservatory that she would not accept a formal position in the leadership of the Conservatoire Américain, agreeing instead to a position on the Con- seil d’Administration. Once again, Valéry and the French council found themselves searching for the right person to lead the Conservatoire into its future. Clearly some- one with strong connections to the French musical establishment was needed: someone well known, someone, if at all possible, with Fontainebleau ties. After months of futile reflection, the Conseil turned to Gaby Casadesus for suggestions. Her recommendation was Jean-Pierre Marty, a pianist and conductor who had, as a prodigy, studied with and then broken away from Boulanger as a teenager at the Paris Conservatory. Later reconciling with Boulanger, Marty was known to Fontainebleau alumni through his perform- ances and recordings, having collaborated with alumni Kenton Coe and oth- ers for various labels. A published Mozart scholar whose musicological inter- ests centered on tempo and performance practice, fluent in several languages, and an experienced conductor and opera director, he was elected as director of the Conservatoire Américain de Fontainebleau to take office in 1987. Notes 1. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Lucie Delécluse, March 29, 1968, CA/GA. 2. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Lucie Delécluse, March 29, 1968, CA/GA. 3. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Martha Crawford, October 21, 1970, CA/NY. 4. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Martha Crawford, July 3, 1970, CA/NY. 5. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Martha Crawford, October 10, 1968, CA/NY. 6. Letter, Marie Brodeur to Lucie Delécluse, May 16, 1971, CA/NY. 7. Elsie Watson, diaries, July 4, 1974, possession of author. 8. Watson, diaries, July 30, 1972. 9. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, November 1972, 1. 10. Watson, diaries, July 8, 1966. 11. Programs of the Conservatoire Américain, various dates, CA/F. Also, Elsie Watson, diaries, possession of author. 12. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, March 1972, CA/F. 13. Letter, François Valéry to Marie Brodeur, undated 1977, CA/GA. 14. Letter, François Valéry to Clarence and Marie Brodeur, February 12, 1977, CA/GA. 15. Letter, Clarence Brodeur to François Valéry, February 15, 1977, CA/GA. 16. James Harrison, interview with author, May 1, 2003, possession of author. 136 � Chapter Ten 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 136 17. Watson, diaries. 18. Notes of the Conservatoire Américain, November 1979, CA/F. 19. Emile Naoumoff, interview with author, October 14, 2000, possession of author. 20. James Harrison, interview with author, May 1, 2003, possession of author. 21. Notes of the Conservatoire Américain, November 1979, CA/F. 22. Naoumoff, interview. 23. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, June 1980. 24. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, June 1981, 9. 25. Naoumoff, interview. 26. Charles Kaufman, interview with author, March 24, 1999 possession of author. 27. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, June 1981, 1. 28. Kaufman, interview. 29. Kaufman, interview. 30. Kaufman, interview. 31. Kaufman, interview. 32. Kaufman, interview. 33. Elsie Watson, interviews with author, various dates, possession of author. 34. Letter, Charles Kaufman to author, undated October 2001, possession of author. “Après Elle le Deluge” (1980–1987) � 137 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 137 06-549_Ch10.qxd 10/30/06 6:40 AM Page 138 C H A P T E R E L E V E N � The Schism Opens (1988–1993) Jean-Pierre Marty became the director of the Conservatoire Américain at a time when the school was in need of determined leadership, funding, and a clear purpose. Emile Naoumoff had been correct in identifying the school’s major problems, and like many associated with it, thought that it was time to move from a post-Boulanger era to a phase of reinvention and new develop- ment. Marty agreed. This was, however, one of the few issues agreed on by everyone involved. While the years of involvement with Mannes were vital and energizing ones for the school, the Americans carried a progressively heavier load while the Conseil seemed content to become involved only when it took issue with an American-led decision. A more cohesive admin- istration was required, one in which both parties were equally responsible for the Conservatoire. Marty had a vision that was well articulated in sweeping plans for the Con- servatoire. He enlisted the help of members of the French aristocracy, just as Boulanger had done, for financial support and to lend an aura of sophistica- tion to the conservatory. Count Jean-Charles de Moustier, Prince Alexandre Galitzine, and Baron Benoit d’Abboville were added to the Conseil d’Administration. Marty used contacts at French fashion houses Louis Vuit- ton and Yves Saint-Laurent to institute a corporate giving program to raise capital for the projects he hoped to undertake. The French government pro- vided additional funds, and during his first year as director, Marty made a trip to New York to meet with the American council and Alumni Association. Relations between the American groups associated with the Conservatoire 139 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 139 and their French counterparts had been tense throughout Boulanger’s final years and those immediately following her death. The French Conseil had perceived the American council members and the alumni-newsletter pub- lishers often to be hostile to the needs of the French administration; and the Americans had viewed their own stateside situation as one lacking in real support from fellow American alumni and supporters. The American Associ- ation also saw itself as continually antagonized by poor decisions on the part of Valéry, Bonet, and others. All of the Americans involved hoped that the meeting with Marty would lead to more supportive ties and encourage better communication and understanding between the groups. The meeting was a disaster. Hosting the assembly at Mannes, Charles Kaufman opened by welcoming Marty and asked what plans the new direc- tor had for the Conservatoire, so that the Americans could prepare and plan their role in assisting the school. “On behalf of my colleagues,” Kaufman ex- plains, “I offered to Marty all the services of the American Council and of Mannes.”1 Rather than reciprocating the gesture, Marty responded as though the American council was impugning his capabilities as the new head of the Conservatoire, asking, “Why are you questioning my leadership?” The hos- tile and abrupt demand cast a pall on the event, and the meeting quite liter- ally went no further: Marty left the room within five minutes of having en- tered. Kaufman was further incensed by Marty’s assertion that the Conservatoire was not benefiting from its association with the Mannes Col- lege, which by all accounts was proving a fruitful partnership: We thought that the man had acted quite poorly from every point of view. He was hostile; he thought that it was detrimental to the school to have the office at Mannes. I said, excuse me? This is not a lower-east-side bordello. It certainly can’t hurt to have an office in the place where Frederica von Stade and Murray Perahia went to school. What are you thinking about here? [Marty said,] “No, I do not want this, we will have an independent office.” Where are you going to get the money? It was one of the reasons you came here in the first place.2 Marty brushed aside the quartet of Harrison, Kaufman, Levin, and Martin, alienating the American Council. He went instead to the Alumni Associa- tion—then still an independent group from the council—for financial and moral support, and established an office in Washington, D.C., to handle pub- licity, recruitment, admissions, and legal matters. Always powerful in terms of scholarship funding, the Alumni Association was frantic to keep the Con- servatoire open, and had been desperately worried since Boulanger’s death 140 � Chapter Eleven 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 140 that closure was imminent. Following Gaby Casadesus’s lead and influenced by her involvement with the new regime, the Alumni Association was ini- tially supportive of Marty and enthusiastic about his plans. The new director had considerable ideas for the august school. Under the direction of Marty, the Conservatoire was to become a year-round pro- gram. It would become associated with an international string quartet cen- ter, known as ProQuartet, that the town of Fontainebleau had been hoping to establish independently. Drawn by the professors and curriculum of the Conservatoire, as well as the opportunities afforded by a collaborative ed- ucational effort with the ProQuartet project, students would flock from all over the world to study in Fontainebleau—and enrollment would not be limited to Americans. Professors from the Paris Conservatory, IRCAM, and other institutions would teach the best and brightest in restored rooms of the Palais. Students would live comfortably in modernized hotels. Practice rooms within the Palais would be refitted for acoustical perfection. The Conservatoire would move back into its old haunts in the Louis XV wing, and concerts of the school’s students and guest artists would no longer take place in the refurbished tennis court, but in the “forgotten theater” built by Napoleon III in 1854. The planned refurbishment of the “forgotten theater” for use by Conser- vatoire Américain students, professors, and guest artists represents the pro- jected grandeur of the Marty regime. This theater, long since closed due to unsafe flooring and other hazards, was once a jewel. It was first used in 1857 for the visit of Grand Duke Constantin of Russia to the French imperial court. Seating four hundred in two balconies, the theater’s stage still holds the original nineteenth-century machinery and sets. The seats are uphol- stered in silk damask and the walls and ceilings are gilded and hung with tap- estries. Marty estimated that to repair the theater would cost thirty million francs.3 It would be the centerpiece of the Conservatoire Américain: a fabu- lously opulent setting for the reborn school, a return to the pre-Boulanger glamour of the 1920s and 1930s. In order to accomplish his goals, Marty looked concurrently to his French sponsors, the French government, and the United States. With the Alumni Association supporting his plans, he engaged an American-style public rela- tions firm to evaluate the Conservatoire Américain’s needs. What it found and presented to the board was not surprising: the Fontainebleau locals had a negative image of the school; the school was visible enough in neither France nor the United States, much less in other countries; and there was poor communication with the French government. The firm went on to declare that the substandard student housing—which had been falling into disrepair The Schism Opens (1988–1993) � 141 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 141 during the 1970s and 1980s and had not been sufficiently upgraded—denoted an amateur operation, as indeed it had been run offhandedly by the French Conseil; and the school needed a stronger identity, complete with a logo and a sign on the Palais wall. In addition, the media advisers concluded, most peo- ple thought that the Conservatoire Américain was just a memory, never to be renewed.4 Without the involvement of Mannes, the Conservatoire would have to find new means of faculty and student recruitment and accrue con- siderable financial strength on its own. Marty began at once to correct these problems. He reworked the Conser- vatoire’s publicity materials, writing the brochures himself. He hired an American development group to help raise capital. With members of the French board, he raised funds for hotel renovation and the acquisition of necessary materials including scores, stands, and recording equipment. He hired the members of IRCAM’s Ensemble Intercontemporain to teach les- sons, coach chamber music, give master classes, and perform. During his first session as director, Marty persuaded Leonard Bernstein, a dedicated admirer of Boulanger, to donate master classes to the Conservatoire as a commemo- rative act for the pedagogue. He recruited students from Eastern Europe, re- lying on contacts he had at the St. Petersburg Conservatory and his own flu- ent Russian to bring three students a year from that city to Fontainebleau on scholarships. Implementation of a year-round program was to wait for stronger finances and visibility, and size of the enrollment for the summer session became fixed at about forty students, a shockingly small number compared to the school’s earlier years and the period of Mannes’s involvement that had just ended. Approximately eight composers, four pianists, eight violinists, four violists, four cellists, two flutists, two oboists, two clarinetists, two bassoonists, and two horn players were accepted for study each summer. Marty felt that it was “necessary to assure an equilibrium between the disciplines and instruments represented to guarantee a new dignity of the reputation of the Conserva- toire Américain de Fontainebleau.”5 The focus was on chamber music and performances of the student composers’ works. Marty, in addition to coach- ing small ensembles, taught a conducting class, using the amalgamated forces of the student body as a chamber orchestra. Admission was more stringent than it had been in Boulanger’s day, in or- der to keep the quality as high as it had been under the auspices of Mannes’s involvement: performance applicants submitted a recording which was screened by Marty and the primary faculty member teaching the instrument. Composers’ scores were sent to Jolas for examination, who evaluated them carefully before recommending admittance. Applicants frequently were 142 � Chapter Eleven 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 142 turned down, despite their ability to pay full tuition, an event that would never have occurred under Boulanger’s control. Partially as a result of the ad- mission procedures, and partially due to administrative consensus, the stu- dent body narrowed in its age ranges during this time. Students younger than eighteen were discouraged, and none under sixteen was admitted. Most students were conservatory undergraduates in their early to mid-twenties— musicians who, while generally not prodigies, were beginning solid careers. Concert programs by student and guest artists were unusually varied and rich under Marty’s direction. The range of repertoire was expanded: French repertoire was suggested for the master classes with Gaby Casadesus and other French artists, but Britten, Bruch, Shostakovich, and other significant non-French composers, even the previously shunned Rachmaninoff, were given Fontainebleau airings during Marty’s tenure. Marty’s contacts brought not only Bernstein and the Ensemble Intercontemporain but soloists from the Orchestre de l’Opera de Paris and the Orchestre National de France. The composition of the student body demonstrated the results of Marty’s desire to expand the Conservatoire’s recruitment base past the American- dominated field found just prior to his tenure. In addition to students from Curtis, Juilliard, Peabody, Yale, and other American institutions, students from music schools in Austria, Bulgaria, Denmark, Great Britain, Hong Kong, Korea, and Romania were accepted. The Conservatoire became more international in flavor as ideas about repertoire, technique, and interpreta- tion were exchanged among students and faculty. With a broadened base of student recruitment, there came new venues in which the Conservatoire could become known as a premier summer academy for talented performers and composers. The inclusion of students from Eastern Europe and Asia as- sured that for the first time those countries would begin to feel the impact of Conservatoire Américain–trained musicians as their students returned from France to pursue highly visible careers as soloists, chamber musicians, or- chestral principals, and composers. Conservatoire students of the Marty era became noted recording artists and performers around the world, surpassing the geographical spread of previous regimes at the school. New funding meant new and bigger student prizes for performance and composition, and students eagerly worked to earn these awards at the end of each session. Cash prizes were awarded to students in several categories, changing to suit each session’s range of concerts. The summer’s best chamber music performance received such an award, the creator of the best new com- position was given the Ravel Prize, and a prize for the best performance of a new work by a Fontainebleau composer was awarded to the interpreters of that work. The Schism Opens (1988–1993) � 143 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 143 In order to further promote the Conservatoire in its local confines, con- tacts with the Jacques Durand estate in Avon, Bel-Ebat, which had dimin- ished over time, were renewed, and the school began holding its end-of- summer prize-giving ceremony and concert there. Before he stepped down from his post as president in 1991, which was subsequently filled by Count de Moustier, François Valéry lauded Marty’s efforts, praising the amount of work he did, the fund-raising he had accomplished, and his determination to improve the Conservatoire Américain. The local press was pleased to see the resurgence of the school, and regularly sent critics to cover the concerts in the Jeu de Paume, Salle des Colonnes, and at Bel-Ebat. As the school stabilized and financial support returned to the Conserva- toire, Marty began to sever more brutally its ties with the past. In an article in the local Fontainebleau paper, he explained that he wanted to continue the traditions of Boulanger while establishing new standards and a new iden- tity.6 However, some saw his outlook as spiteful and destructive of Boulanger’s legacy. “He did his interview with [the paper] about visions as a new director,” recalls Emile Naoumoff, “and in this article, 1987, he men- tioned that Nadia Boulanger was not the great teacher that people spoke about; he had to show himself by destroying his idol.”7 Marty explains his views of Boulanger in less psychologically fraught terms: I owe an immense amount to her and have always held her in great respect and affection. Yet, I am firmly convinced that, if her lessons were priceless to hun- dreds, her tenure as Director did not profit the school in the long run, since she managed to have herself identified with it. To this day, many people still think that without Nadia Boulanger the School was doomed, whereas I believe the opposite is true (and I am not the only one to think so).8 As previously discussed, much evidence suggests that while Marty’s ob- servation was difficult for Boulanger’s advocates to hear, it was a correct as- sessment of the situation, especially as it existed toward the end of Boulanger’s life. However, this view, about which Marty made no secret, upset those for whom Fontainebleau was Boulanger, and vice versa. A large and well-connected group of alumni were perfectly willing to gloss over or altogether deny Boulanger’s flaws in order to preserve a rose-colored vision of how the school had been at some distant, mythical time. Conflict be- tween the two was inevitable. Marty’s vigorous approach to running the Conservatoire Américain, de- spite his success in creating a stronger financial base and recruiting an excel- 144 � Chapter Eleven 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 144 lent faculty and strong student body, gradually became unacceptable to the Alumni Association. Their members felt increasingly isolated from the ac- tions Marty was taking, and perhaps resented his independence in taking control of Conservatoire matters without the consultation or dialogue Bonet’s administration had pursued with them. On the other side of the At- lantic, the French were also unhappy, but not with Marty. The Conseil d’Administration meeting of June 1992 found general dissatisfaction with what they saw as the weaknesses of the American committee, and envisioned the possibility of a break with it. Their disappointment in the cooperation— or rather the lack thereof—of the New York–based organizations was tremendous. Not realizing that Marty’s own personality and methods might have precipitated some of the friction, the Conseil placed the entire blame for the situation on the Alumni Association. In contrast, Marty, with his ability to bring in corporate funding and with his positive relationship with Fontainebleau’s mayor, Juliette Bebe, was viewed by the Conseil as a savior for the Conservatoire. Its members were especially impressed by the way Marty had successfully lobbied the Ministry of Culture for more than eighty thousand dollars in 1988, a miraculous sum.9 Seeing hope for school’s future, members of the Conseil began to take the kind of proprietary interest in the Conservatoire Américain that some earlier members had: they were tired of having foreigners dictate their business to them. An internal memo written by Valéry before his resignation contains the essence of the problem: “we have never had to accede to the demands of the American committee,” he wrote, not entirely accurately. He continued with his condemnation of the Alumni Association’s work: Considering the prestige of Fontainebleau, its place in the history of American music, the number of alumni who hold faculty positions in a number of im- portant universities or colleges in the United States, the active support given to us by Leonard Bernstein, the aid we got this year, for the first time in his- tory, from private sources, it seems to me difficult to believe that an effort could not be made on the other side of the Atlantic, to match what we have been able to do over here.10 The climate of friendship and goodwill between the Conseil d’Adminis- tration and the American Alumni Association was cooling at a rapid rate, with no reconciliation in sight. Neither organization wanted to be in the wrong; neither could find the diplomacy needed to stop the spreading rift. In New York, the Alumni Association began receiving complaints about Marty’s teaching and administrative style. While some students certainly The Schism Opens (1988–1993) � 145 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 145 were disappointed or hurt by Marty’s blunt style, few comments were as vit- riolic as those in letters castigating Boulanger just two decades earlier. Active members and officers were offended by Marty’s drive to create an institution independent of Boulanger’s shadow. They viewed the French Conseil as na- tionalistic and anti-American, and were outraged when Emile Naoumoff de- cided to leave the Conservatoire. This event was a final straw for many alumni, who saw Naoumoff as the last link to the Boulanger regime and could not imagine a Conservatoire Américain without him and his legacy continuing the traditions established from the 1950s. Naoumoff had been teaching almost every subject offered—a Fontainebleau jack-of-all-trades, and well qualified to be so—when Marty arrived to take over the directorship from Bonet. Naoumoff remembers that, When Marty came, I realized that something evil was happening, because Marty took me aside and he told me, “I would like you to help me run this place; show me the tricks.” I told him, “I did this for Narcis [Bonet],” besides, I said, “there are no tricks to this place; this place is to be reinvented,” and he looked at me like I dare speak to him [in such a way]. He spoke so meanly to me about Bonet . . . that I didn’t want to collaborate with somebody like this. I felt like, I’m not going to be the toy of somebody. I was willing to do a little bit of that [working for the school] when I was eighteen for Bonet after Nadia because in a way I felt like it was the [right thing] . . . I thought that in these years had passed; we had to do something else or close. That’s my point of view and that’s why I left.11 The Fontainebleau press mourned the loss of Naoumoff, who had come to represent the Conservatoire Américain’s last days of Boulanger glory. La République de Seine-et-Marne reported that “Les Naoumoffmaniaques” deeply regretted the loss of Boulanger’s “enfant cheri” and hoped for his return.12 The Alumni Association was deeply wounded: Naoumoff was their child prodigy, the little boy they had all seen grow up. His departure from Fontaine- bleau and apparent mistreatment by Marty, along with the student complaints about Marty’s sometimes harsh critiques and a general sense of unease among the Americans about the situation at the school, sparked an investigation into the conditions there. In 1992, newly elected Alumni Association President Debra Takakjian, a piano student of 1978, visited Fontainebleau as an admin- istrative official for the purpose of evaluating Marty’s directorship, the quality of students and classes, and overall operations. Takakjian’s report appeared in the April 1993 Alumni Bulletin, and it is clear that the Alumni Association not only wanted to retain a mythologized 146 � Chapter Eleven 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 146 sense of Boulanger in perpetuity, but that it also felt the loss of power to Marty very strongly: The Conservatoire and Beaux-Arts Schools no longer utilize the Fontainebleau Fine Arts and Music Schools Association, Inc. (the American representatives of the school since its inception). Recruiting and processing of applications for the students are now being done by the directors of each pro- gram or through their own conduits. In addition, many of our beloved faculty of the music program have either been asked to leave or have not been invited back despite their many years of service to the Conservatoire. Many long-time patrons of the schools have stopped supporting the schools including the Fontainebleau Fine Arts and Music Schools Association, Inc., Mannes College of Music, and Les Amis de Fontainebleau, to name a few. Over the past few years, the Alumni Association has received letters and phone calls from dissatisfied students who attended the Conservatoire. Their complaints have ranged from disorganization of the program to the low caliber of the faculty, to problems with the director. In an effort to address these issues, I wrote many letters and traveled to Fontainebleau this past summer to personally meet with and discuss various is- sues with school officials and the directors. I am sad to say that, although most people acknowledged the above-mentioned problems, much has not changed. These issues were discussed at length at the Alumni Association’s 1991 and 1992 annual meetings. It was generally agreed that the music program no longer reflects the standards and influence of Nadia Boulanger. Therefore, the Alumni Association voted not to give a scholarship for the 1993 session.13 A schism had opened. The American officers would no longer provide funding for the Conservatoire. Their fund-raising activities and grants re- ceived would go instead toward the support of the Beaux-Arts school until their problems with the music school were settled. For Takakjian, resolution would come only with Marty’s resignation. The French board was furious. Marty and Jolas immediately wrote letters refuting Takakjian’s claims. Marty’s response was pointed and personal. He argued that Takakjian’s stay in Fontainebleau was not of sufficient length, nor did she make the kind of effort necessary there to make a thorough eval- uation. “Now for what she did not say,” his rebuttal began. She did not say that my acquaintance with Fontainebleau dates back from the fifties on Mademoiselle Boulanger’s invitation when I had already been her student for several years. She did not say that mine was one of the three names considered to succeed her in 1979. She did not say that I was called by the The Schism Opens (1988–1993) � 147 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 147 Board of Trustees in 1986 to save what was then a dying institution. She did not say that I was reelected in 1989 and again in 1992 on the basis of my record. She did not say that, in recognition of its role in developing interna- tional cultural links on a high level, the American Conservatory was recently granted by the French Ministry of Foreign Affairs important subsidies in a ges- ture without precedent since before the war. She did not say that her classmate of 1978, Joe Kerr, who was the executive secretary of the 1992 session as my closest associate, resigned last year in protest from his position as Editor of the Alumni Bulletin and that he will join me again for the success of 1993. She did not say that last September she had sent an ultimatum to our Chairman de- manding my dismissal. She did not say that she had received from M. de Moustier the kind of reply she deserved together with a letter from me with- drawing recognition of the Alumni Association under the circumstances and until further notice. [ . . . ] Finally, she did not say what is the most important. That she is not a professional musician, but a lawyer. And this explains a lot. I have had in the past dissentions with Officers of the Alumni Association. But I know that none of these fine professional musicians would ever have made this kind of public statement at the risk of gravely undermining the future of this venerable and admirable institution, the Conservatoire Américain de Fontainebleau.14 Marty was correct on all of the factual points he addressed, and the Con- seil and faculty agreed with him on the rest. Indeed, Betsy Jolas’s letter to Takakjian was scarcely less scathing: “It was generally agreed that the music program no longer reflects the stan- dards and influence of Nadia Boulanger.” This so-called “general agreement” is particularly shocking because it is absolutely false. [ . . . ] If there is anyone who has consistently kept in mind the high, severe, rigorous standards that were Nadia Boulanger’s, it is the present director, Jean-Pierre Marty. [ . . . ] But the Music School should certainly not become a sort of Frenchified Country Club for non-professionals, gifted or not, who are looking for an excuse to go abroad! Instead of making things difficult, an alumni association, to justify its exis- tence, should do all it can to help the institution in question.15 Jolas’s letter played on the fears and doubts of earlier eras of the Conser- vatoire Américain, when rigorous standards were threatened and not infre- quently abandoned for some students in order to attract the monetarily sup- portive but musically untalented. Was this the kind of past policy the Alumni Association wanted to re-create? Was Boulanger, after all, a figure to be idolized without dissent? Jolas’s concern at the time may have been an ugly personal jibe at Takakjian, who had chosen to go into law rather than 148 � Chapter Eleven 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 148 pursue a professional music career, but was nonetheless extremely prescient: without a certain kind of leadership, the student body could well come to re- semble in some aspects her dreaded “country club.” The town of Fontainebleau supported Marty. Its mayor, Juliette Bebe, gave an interview to La République de Seine-et-Marne in January of 1993, titled “Fontainebleau, future new Salzburg?” In the article, Bebe stressed her com- mitment to the arts in Fontainebleau and her desire to see it become an in- ternational artistic center through its hosting of both the Conservatoire and the ProQuartet project at the Palais.16 Once ambivalent or even vaguely hos- tile toward the music school, the town now placed itself strongly in favor of the continuation of the school under Marty’s direction, a welcome piece of propaganda for the beleaguered administration. Despite its inelegant forcing of the leadership issue, the Alumni Associa- tion was not entirely wrong in its assessment of at least one aspect of the sit- uation at the Conservatoire. Its officers and members may have carried a grudge due to their loss of control of the American operations, but it was far more difficult to dismiss so easily the Conservatoire students’ criticisms of Marty. Student feedback forms were distributed at the end of each session and the anonymous comments were forwarded to the French offices. Initially, the student response to Marty was mostly positive. However, by 1990, that enthusiasm was significantly diminished. For a number of students “studying with Mr. Marty” was a highlight of the summer, but the majority of his charges in 1992 and 1993 were unhappy with his approach and tempera- ment. “He destroys students and pieces,” wrote one. “Jean-Pierre Marty has a lot of knowledge about music,” conceded another, “but I hate to say that his mannerism, his attitude, and communication skills must be improved. The way he treats students (especially pianists) is completely unprofes- sional.” One student’s entire evaluation form was given over to condemna- tion of Marty: The teaching style of Jean-Pierre Marty impedes learning. He is knowledge- able, but absolutely unaware of the students as humans. If a student is con- vinced that he is bad, he will learn nothing, perform poorly, and probably quit. Is that the aim of teaching of Jean-Pierre Marty? I hope not. Although his be- havior at the dress rehearsal indicated that it is. Respect for other humans must be the basis of all inter-human activities and Jean-Pierre Marty demonstrates none.17 The schism that had opened between the American and French councils and administrators now gaped even more widely. The American Alumni The Schism Opens (1988–1993) � 149 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 149 Association, in giving its funding entirely to the Beaux-Arts division, placed a strain on the relations between Marty and the Beaux-Arts admin- istrators, who after all, shared space in the Henri IV wing. Marty cut off all communication with the American offices; the Americans howled for Marty’s resignation; the French supported their countryman. Such an impasse could not last. The session of 1993 opened with the usual pomp and splendor, and Count de Moustier invited all of the students to his home for a banquet. Concerts were well attended, and although the Alumni Association had withheld money from the Conservatoire, several students attended on full and partial scholarships. Throughout the summer, however, Marty became more and more appalled by the machinations of the Ameri- can council. At the end of the session, Marty wrote a letter to the students protesting the “slander” of Takakjian and withdrawing the participation of the music students from the final celebration, in which they were to have performed to accompany a slide show by the Beaux-Arts students.18 For many of the students who had found fault with Marty’s teaching style, this act— essentially a punishment of the students for actions outside of their control and, in many cases, their knowledge—was typically harsh and severe. The mood at the final party that year was subdued. Students and a num- ber of administrators felt that the end of the Conservatoire Américain had arrived, and many left thinking that its final year had come and gone. Instead of a grand fête, a buffet dinner was served in the Henri IV courtyard, and af- ter a silent presentation of slides by the Beaux-Arts students, the music stu- dents drifted off to the Hôtel d’Albe to pack and make farewells. Though he had seemed willing to fight for his position and the continua- tion of the Conservatoire, Marty’s disgust with the American officers over- whelmed his desire to stay on following the session. Perhaps also fearing that the French Conseil would turn on him in light of the students’ dissatisfac- tion, Marty preempted any termination of his position by leaving the post be- fore he could be removed. He sent his resignation letter to de Moustier on August 12, 1993, four days before the official end of the session. The Alumni Association, which had pushed so hard for Marty’s removal, suddenly found itself in charge of a rapidly collapsing organization. Despite his many plans and actual accomplishments, such as securing funding, open- ing the school to non-American students, and improving some rooms of the Henri IV quarter for teaching locations, Marty had not created the Conser- vatoire he had set out to form. The school was not ready to open as a year- round institution, and an association with the ProQuartet center—itself still in its planning stages—was still hypothetical. The students’ living quar- ters had not been improved, and practice rooms still lacked any kind of 150 � Chapter Eleven 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 150 acoustically improved facilities. The school had not moved back into the Louis XV wing, and the Napoleon theater, held up by Marty and his associ- ates as a symbol of the new Conservatoire, remained locked, its glory shrouded in drop-cloths. Upon Marty’s resignation, de Moustier and Gal- itzine, Marty’s aristocratic and corporate contacts, vacated their posts on the Conseil d’Administration as well. The Conservatoire was suddenly without the fund-raising powers and society connections it relied on so heavily. The Americans had accomplished what they wanted, but, like Boulanger, had made no preparations for the future. Notes 1. Charles Kaufman, letter to author, undated October 2001, possession of author. 2. Kaufman, letter to author. 3. Roughly five million American dollars at the time. 4. Document of Jean-Pierre Marty, undated 1990s, CA/F. 5. Jean-Pierre Marty, statement on the 1990 session, undated 1990, CA/F. 6. La République de Seine-et-Marne, July 13, 1992, CA/F. 7. Emile Naoumoff, interview with author, October 14, 2000, possession of author. 8. Jean-Pierre Marty, letter to author, November 4, 1998, possession of author. 9. Letter, François Valéry to (first name unknown) Triggle, undated September 1988, CA/F. 10. Letter, François Valéry to (first name unknown) Triggle, undated September 1988, CA/F. 11. Naoumoff, interview. 12. La République de Seine-et-Marne, 13 July 1992, CA/F. 13. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, April 1993. 14. Jean-Pierre Marty, letter to the American Council, undated 1992, CA/F. 15. Letter, Betsy Jolas to Debra Takakjian, undated 1992–1993, CA/F. 16. La République de Seine-et-Marne, 23 January 1993, CA/F. 17. Anonymous student evaluations, undated 1992–1993, CA/F. 18. Letter, Jean-Pierre Marty to students, August 1992, CA/F. The Schism Opens (1988–1993) � 151 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 151 06-549_Ch11.qxd 10/30/06 6:41 AM Page 152 P A R T V THE FROG RODEO 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 153 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 154 C H A P T E R T W E L V E � “The Frog Rodeo” (1994–present) “This is the beginning of the frog rodeo.”—anonymous administrator on the beginning of a new session1 When Jean-Pierre Marty left the Conservatoire Américain, he did so with a vengeance. The French and American councils were horrified to find that in his final summer as director, Marty had spent extravagantly, paying premium fees to guest artists and faculty members. The cumulative losses for the school were over a million and a half francs. It was suggested that Marty had in- tended the closure of the school, using these final, lavish expenditures as a method of forcing it to an end. “It was almost as if he said, ‘If this is the end, let’s have a big blowout,” said one observer of Marty’s final year as director.2 Not surprisingly, the school’s bank and investors were shocked by the deficit that the Conservatoire had incurred, and the Conseil d’Administration struggled to find a way to restructure its finances and stay open. Factions disagreed as to what course of action to take. Betsy Jolas lamented the departure of Marty and pressed the Conseil to make plans for a 1994 session regardless of the lack of an elected director, while Conseil President de Moustier refused to entertain the idea of opening the school under the direction of a temporary leader or a committee. Candidates for the position of director were not as numerous as the Conseil might have expected. Charles Kaufman proposed Emile Naoumoff to de Moustier, who replied positively that despite the requirement that the director be French he “would certainly be happy and interested to meet with him, an alum of 155 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 155 the school and an eminent pianist.”3 Unfortunately for the Conservatoire, Naoumoff found no appeal in the prospect. “I’m not personally interested in a career in Fontainebleau,” he said. “There is no clear vision for what I can bring there; there is no point for me to go back.” Instead of trying to patch together an institution where he had been both student and faculty, celebrated and mistreated, Naoumoff created his own summer academy at Gargenville, the one-time summer home of the Boulangers. “I needed a ge- ographical place where I could all sort of eventually connect [my students] to Boulanger; because of the symbolism of the place, Fontainebleau being one, Gargenville being the other. I just couldn’t go to Fontainebleau and see what is happening; I can’t walk in this place without [seeing] ghosts.”4 He had his own ideas of who should take over the Conservatoire Améri- cain: “I don’t understand why the damn council didn’t give [Madame Casadesus] the directorship right away.”5 Casadesus certainly had the expe- rience and ability to take on the job, but instead of being tapped to take up the position, she was asked by the Conseil to choose and recruit a new di- rector.6 In her more than seventy years, she had seen the Conservatoire through the Second World War, abandoned it in her grief over her daugh- ter’s illness there, returned to see Boulanger’s rise and reputation grow, and witnessed the chaos brought on by her choices following Boulanger’s death. Despite her vast knowledge of the school and its workings, Casadesus was seen by some within the administration as only a useful figurehead, repre- senting the Conservatoire’s long history rather than serving an important role in its present and future. According to Conservatoire intimates, she was guided into approving financial actions that were not to the benefit of the school, and her selection of Marty was based partially on her dealings with him as a young man and not with the adult he had become.7 Following Marty’s resignation, Casadesus was among the first consulted. Her choice of candidate for the school’s new director was Philippe En- tremont, a former student and now an established pianist and conductor. Casadesus was supported in her decision by Betsy Jolas: together they be- lieved that Entremont, with his experience in leading large organizations and his multitude of contacts in France, would be able to help the Conservatoire to its feet. He accepted the position of director late in 1993, agreeing to be- gin with the 1995 session, and in January, La République de Seine-et-Marne re- ported on the state of the beleaguered school. “Will the Écoles d’Art Américaines be forced to suspend operations?” asked the paper. The article outlined the history of the school and then launched into a detailing of the current state of affairs: director Jean-Pierre Marty had been forced to resign, it reported, and the Palais de Fontainebleau 156 � Chapter Twelve 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 156 was no longer as welcoming as it once had been. The Quartier Henri IV was no longer housing the school, said La République, implying that if the chateau was no longer interested in hosting the Conservatoire, then the end was near indeed. Supposedly the school’s wing in the “Kitchen Quarter” was closed for the 1994–1995 year while repairs were made, and the Écoles d’Art Améri- caines would be allowed to resume their residences soon, but other issues complicating the matter soon arose. De Moustier had died and a replacement had not been named as president, weakening the school’s position to lobby the Palais administrators and the French government for support. The Con- servatoire had entered into an agreement to sell its historic restaurant, site of student concerts and bonhomie, but the proceedings had become enmeshed in legal complications. La République further explained that the school car- ried an enormous deficit, and despite the appointment of Entremont, spon- sors and investors were nowhere to be found. Finally, where would students come from? Everyone knew, reported the paper, the Conservatoire Améri- cain was washed up, a mockery of what it once was.8 As confrontational and challenging as the tone of the article was, its anonymous author was correct in many cases: the Conservatoire Américain had major problems and appeared to lack the resources necessary to do any- thing about them. When the Conseil met in January 1994, its main pur- pose was to inform Entremont of the possibly insurmountable plight of the Conservatoire Américain. The Conseil hoped to resume ties with the New York–based Alumni Association and ask it to restore its role in student re- cruitment and financial support. Entremont, while endorsing this plan, cautioned against suggestions that the Conservatoire return to its ties with the Mannes School of Music, saying without further explanation that it “doesn’t have sufficient qualities,” to partner with the Conservatoire. Al- though he later sought an engagement to conduct the school’s orchestra and personally recruited for the Conservatoire at Mannes, Entremont was opposed to returning the school to its status as a Mannes-controlled pro- gram. His reasons for this are not clear, but since he offered for considera- tion potential reciprocal agreements with Indiana University at Blooming- ton, Yale University, the Curtis Institute, the Juilliard School, the Peabody Conservatory of Music, and other major conservatories and universities, it is likely that he saw the need for the stability and administrative acumen an American school could bring to the Conservatoire, but wanted to avoid any partnerships that could bring with them past entanglements and issues. Despite Entremont’s proposals, none of these institutions ultimately ac- cepted his proposals, likely due to the school’s financial unsteadiness and lack of solid plans for retrenchment and operations.9 “The Frog Rodeo” (1994–present) � 157 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 157 To speak to these issues and hoping to dispel the rumors of the Conserva- toire’s end, the Conseil met again in March 1994 with firmer resolve. The budget was revised to reflect the disastrous state of finances left by Marty, and Casadesus and Jolas divided up the responsibility of hiring a faculty and or- ganizing a session for the coming summer.10 However, the Conseil and its subcommittees still overlooked a major element in repositioning the school: there was no mention made of its current mission. It is unclear exactly what the Conseil was trying to accomplish. Not one member addressed the ques- tion of the purpose of the Conservatoire Américain. Of all of the musicians present, none spoke of the school’s musical goals, the kinds of instruction it wanted to offer, the repertoire it wanted to teach, or the kinds of students it hoped to attract. The focus was so much on survival that the very reasons for surviving were completely disregarded. A month later, when the Conseil met again, the logistical planning of the Conservatoire had been strengthened somewhat, although it remained con- centrated on simply opening the doors for the sake of proving its continued existence. Between ten and fifteen students had committed to attend a two- week session for pianists and composers only, several returning from the dis- astrous 1993 session. Casadesus and Jolas would serve as the primary faculty, and Entremont would make whatever appearances he could in accordance with his performance schedule. Kerr was coaxed into reprising his role as gen- eral secretary and coordinator. Yamaha offered two grand pianos to En- tremont for the session, and the school arranged to rent nine uprights. The conservator of the Palais assured the Conservatoire of its claim on the Henri IV wing and cleared the way for the school’s continued use of the Jeu de Paume as a concert venue.11 The financial situation remained bleak, how- ever, and letters from the American board of trustees indicate that the group was at an almost total loss about funding sources.12 Scant publicity about the continuation of the Conservatoire was circulated. Few alumni, and even fewer potential students, realized that the school was continuing to function even in a limited way. The Alumni Association, though, was heartened by the turn of events, which it saw as the ideal situation and vehicle for a rapprochement with the Conseil, and with some grandeur it announced “with great pleasure” that it was giving five thousand dollars each to the Conservatoire Améri- cain and the École des Beaux-Arts as part of what it called a “recapitaliza- tion fund.” Alumni Association President Debra Takakjian planned a trip to the school during its two weeks of operation to make a show of support and to meet de Moustier’s successor, former Ambassador to the United States Pierre Boyer.13 158 � Chapter Twelve 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 158 The 1994 session opened with seventeen students from the United States, Western Europe, and Asia in attendance. Solfège professor Isabelle Duha re- turned to teach and perform, and Gaby Casadesus’s protégé, Philippe Bian- coni, agreed to teach piano, increasing the small faculty to five. Entremont brought students of his own, including his assistant Xu-Zhong, with whom he performed in a duo-piano concert of French music, offering at least a small nod to the school’s original intentions of promoting the literature of its na- tive country. At Gaby Casadesus’s solo concert in the Jeu de Paume, Takakjian ceremoniously presented checks from the Alumni Association to the school, symbolizing the formal return of relations between the Ameri- cans and the French.14 For the first time, however, the session of the Conservatoire Américain re- sembled a festival rather than a true summer academy. In previous years, dur- ing the months before leaving for France, students had been provided with a list of possible repertoire to bring and be ready to prepare on site. Most works were then assembled in chamber music groups or as partnerships at the Palais, and this had been part of the students’ education: one of the skills stu- dents would take home with them was to be able to prepare a complete work for performance in a short time with an unfamiliar group or accompanist. By learning a piece at Fontainebleau, they would study the work with French coaches, gaining exposure to French interpretive tastes and methods. With the session shortened to a scant two weeks, this approach to preparing mate- rial for concerts hardly seemed reasonable or practical. Pianists brought mu- sic already completely learned with them, and, in some cases, had been per- forming the works they brought for some time prior to attending the Conservatoire. Hoping to secure a performance by a colleague, composers likewise brought completed scores, knowing that works begun or partially completed at the Conservatoire Américain would stand little chance of be- ing heard on a student concert because of the time constraints. This depar- ture from the preparation methods of the past gave the Conservatoire the aura of a concert series as opposed to a true learning experience. The faculty did not discourage the students’ tactics in this area. In fact, with the residence terms of faculty members and of the director himself so truncated, there would be little time to assist any student first learning a piece. Lessons would take on a more master class–like approach, in that pro- fessors expected to hear not works in progress, but pieces ready or nearly ready for performance. Only in terms of repertoire were students asked to keep with the Conservatoire’s traditions, and were encouraged to bring pre- dominantly French repertoire of the early twentieth century: Debussy and Ravel again topped the bills at student concerts. “The Frog Rodeo” (1994–present) � 159 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 159 When the small band of students and faculty departed from Fontainebleau after the two-week session in 1994, the Conseil d’Adminis- tration met again. Although the session was brief, the overall quality of stu- dents was judged to be high, and public attendance at the concerts had been good. A concrete plan to open for three weeks the following summer was made, with courses in piano, solfège, theory, composition, violin, cello, chamber music, and a course in conducting, using a chamber orchestra, much as Marty had done, which would be taught by Entremont. Gaby Casadesus’s daughter, Thérèse Casadesus Rawson, would teach French- language classes. In order to boost alumni giving and awareness, Takakjian organized an “Alumni Week” as part of the publicity campaign the Con- servatoire Américain would have to undertake.15 When the Conseil met again later in the year, though, Entremont suggested radical cuts to this plan, aimed at keeping costs low. He proposed that separate classes and les- sons for the string players be discontinued, but that they take part in cham- ber music coaching and participate in a chamber orchestra directed by him. This idea was met with considerable resistance. Students expected lessons, and the prospect of working individually with the Conservatoire’s faculty members was a strong drawing point for attendees. Although it meant higher costs because of a larger faculty, the plan did not take hold, and pri- vate lessons remained part of the curriculum. Despite the failure of his plan, the episode illustrates Entremont’s philosophy concerning the school: to keep it lean and easy to manage, and ultimately, to create a system in which the director did not need to directly oversee its operations. At the time of his appointment as director of the Conservatoire Améri- cain, Entremont was a known figure in French and American musical com- munities. Born in 1934 into a pianistic family—both parents were professional musicians—he had studied at the Paris Conservatoire, where he was the re- cipient of the Premier Prix in solfège, chamber music, and piano before the age of fifteen. After beginning his career as a soloist and chamber musician, En- tremont turned to conducting, becoming the director of the Vienna Chamber Orchestra, the New Orleans Philharmonic, and the Colonne Orchestra of Paris. While some thought he “should stick with the piano,”16 he nonetheless had made a reputation as a conductor. Within the structures of the Conserva- toire Américain, Entremont would be a very hands-off administrator, prima- rily pursuing his own performance interests as a soloist, chamber musician, and conductor while making sure that he was present in Fontainebleau enough to attract enough students to the piano program and to field a chamber orches- tra for his once- or twice-a-session appearance at its helm. 160 � Chapter Twelve 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 160 Having Entremont’s name connected to the Conservatoire should have been a boon for the struggling school. Following Entremont’s installation, though, the Conservatoire approached recruitment very poorly. Rather than launching an advertising campaign in order to promote what it felt was a new era for the school, the combined forces of the Alumni Association and the American board—now known collectively as the Fontainebleau Associa- tions, Inc.—decided that it was preferable for potential students to learn about the school from alumni and by word of mouth. Very little of the asso- ciation’s annual budget was allocated for publicity, and it sent no brochures, posters, or flyers to music schools or conservatories. This lack of visibility re- sulted in fewer applications than at almost any other point, but the school used this situation to aggressively recruit select students, who were then pro- vided with not only full scholarships but also airfare to and from France in order to ensure their participation in the program.17 Other students received half-scholarships to make their attendance more likely, and a cap of approx- imately forty students—a far cry from the 1980s or even the 1930s—was reestablished as a guideline for admissions. This number was arrived at by fi- nancial caveat: it would enable the Conservatoire to offer large but limited scholarships to its top applicants and would also allow for a small number of full-paying but less able students to help balance things out. On the artistic side, a student body of forty allowed for a small chamber orchestra of instru- mentalists and a handful of pianists and composers. The number was man- ageable by a staff of two or three people, and could be accommodated by the local cafeterias and restaurants providing meals. Ultimately, the lack of a proactive publicity and recruitment policy helped define the school’s scope in terms of students, staff, and basic budget. As the Conservatoire’s session expanded from two weeks in 1994 to four in 1996, the need for faculty increased as well. In addition to the piano and composition professors, a group of string teachers was hired. Unlike previous years, however, during which faculty members were present for the entire ses- sion, faculty members now were hired for periods of a week at a time, and few stayed for the entire session. The makeup of the faculty changed as well. While some professors still were recruited from the Paris Conservatoire, an increasing number came from outside of France. There was no uproar from the Conseil about this mixture of faculty nationalities, as there had been when Kaufman and Levin brought American professors from Mannes to the school; in fact, the school’s brochures included language indicating that the Conservatoire Américain’s stance on the nationality of its professors would reflect a post–Cold War broadening of national schools and approaches. In “The Frog Rodeo” (1994–present) � 161 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 161 this regard, finally, the school was making a decision that would help deter- mine its raison d’être for the years ahead. The decision to formally integrate non-French faculty was a significant departure from Francis Casadesus’s original intent, but was viewed by many involved with the Conservatoire as a reasonable accommodation to the changes the idea of musical nationality has undergone since the 1980s. For many years, a player’s style could be characterized by the nationality of his educational locale: in cello performance, for example, one spoke of the Rus- sian school, the Hungarian school, or the French school. With the softening of borders and the increased ability of musicians to travel from the East to the West, the delineation of schools became blurred, with a new, more general school of playing taking over from the older, more stratified ones. By the end of the century, the faculty roster of the Conservatoire Américain boasted professors from not only France, but the Netherlands, Italy, China, and America as well. For the 2000 session, the performance professoriate con- sisted of seven French and five non-French teachers.18 Clearly the school had decided that while it would promote French repertoire to its students, it would no longer uphold the goal of teaching strictly French technique and interpretation to American students. Other changes were effected in the mid- and late-1990s involving stu- dent life and the Conservatoire’s relationship with the town and the Palais. The Barassy Hotel, first used to house the male students and later the Beaux-Arts students, was leased to a language school. The Hôtel d’Albe, the nexus of student life in Fontainebleau for seventy summers, was parti- tioned into two sections. The grand and opulent rooms on one side of the hotel, which during Marty’s term had been the women’s primary housing, were leased to the Fontainebleau tourism bureau. The massive wardrobes, claw-foot bathtubs, and gilt mirrors were carted away as the building was modernized with multiple telephone lines, beige carpet, and filing cabinets. The Albe’s garden and garden enclosure, home of countless Ping-Pong games and parties, was now made off-limits to Conservatoire students. The Conservatoire retained only the annex of the Hôtel d’Albe, a narrow wing adjacent to the hotel proper that had served as the men’s dormitory. It had but two showers and a handful of rooms for seventeen students, sleeping two and three to a room. Overflow housing was obtained at the dormitory of INSEAD, the local business school, where students shared crowded but slightly better-appointed suites containing small kitchen units and en suite bathrooms. Socializing took place in local cafés and bars, and in the Albe’s garden, in its kitchen, and on its roof. Attempting to lighten the mood at the Albe after the practice rooms officially closed at night, Joe Kerr posted 162 � Chapter Twelve 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 162 the notice that “No Romantic Repertoire after 10 p.m.” would be tolerated in the hotel’s salon. He frequently took over the salon, the cozy front room on the ground floor of the Albe, and commandeered its upright piano him- self for hugely popular impromptu jazz sessions and sing-alongs with stu- dents after hours.19 At the Palais, the Conservator’s survey of the Henri IV wing found struc- tural and other damages too great to ignore, and just before Entremont’s ap- pointment as director, he informed the Conservatoire that it would be re- quired to vacate its rooms there. Music stands and office furnishings were moved into storage at the Albe, and the music library, a considerable hold- ing, was moved into a tiny garret in the François I wing of the Palais, above some unused meeting rooms and storage spaces. Rough bookcases were erected, and workmen filled the shelves with music without regard for or- ganization. When the shelves were full, remaining scores, recordings, and ref- erence books went onto the floor. Scores by Naoumoff, letters of Boulanger, and rare recordings and editions of music were jumbled together in cardboard boxes and stacks, along with some materials of the École des Beaux-Arts, which fared no better in their treatment. The space was clean and dry, but it was hardly ideal for the student or professor looking for a particular work. In fact, those trying to reach the library to search for materials often were pro- hibited to do so by Palais staff unwilling to let Conservatoire personnel en- ter the upper levels of the chateau. The foothold that the Conservatoire had in the Palais was not entirely lost, although the removal of possessions from the Henri IV wing seemed a last straw to many. The school still was permitted to use the Jeu de Paume as a concert venue, and maintained the use of several large rooms on the bot- tom floor of the François I wing as classrooms. The Salle des Colonnes, which for several years had gone unused as a concert hall, was reopened for use by faculty members, and Entremont convinced Palais officials to consent to the use of the visually luxuriant Chapelle de la Trinité for chamber or- chestra concerts. Obtaining the use of these halls was no small feat, and, given their historical and artistic importance, the Palais’s concern over their use is understandable. The Chapelle de la Trinité is a masterwork of Renais- sance painting and ornamentation. Stucco angels float over the altar, sup- porting royal crests. Above them, the barrel-vaulted ceiling is divided into sections by gilt-covered relief work and covered with oil-on-plaster paintings depicting biblical scenes. Acoustically, the Chapelle is suitable for the kind of small-orchestra performances Entremont was interested in giving, and it had room for twenty or so orchestral musicians, two pianos, and an audience capacity of approximately ninety. “The Frog Rodeo” (1994–present) � 163 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 163 The Salle des Colonnes had been used sporadically throughout the Con- servatoire Américain’s history, and had hosted great performances by faculty members and guest artists. The visual impact of the Salle was almost capable of impressing audiences into not noticing its atrocious, bathroom-like acoustics. Enormous columns of smoky marble support a carved ceiling from which hang dozens of crystal chandeliers. The view of all but the first two or three rows of seats is extremely restricted, but mirrors line the walls, provid- ing interesting perspectives for watching the musicians at the front of the hall. Smaller than the Chapelle de la Trinité, the Salle des Colonnes became established as the venue for small-ensemble and solo recitals by guests and professors of the Conservatoire Américain. Student concerts continued to be held in the Jeu de Paume, although the Conservatoire staff had to prepare the room by laying carpet and installing seats, because the Palais, sponsoring a revival of the early form of tennis played there, had restored the hall to its original athletic-club condition, complete with an office-cum-locker room and the accompanying lingering odor of sweat. Originally a stage had been erected each year at one end of the court, but with the Conseil seeking to keep costs low, the stage was discon- tinued and performances took place in the center of the room with tempo- rary seating around three sides. Artists waiting to perform stood behind the walls of mesh netting that separated the observers’ area from the court, an area that became known to Conservatoire Américain students as “the Bullpen.” Acoustically somewhat dry and prone to reverberate with the nearby garden-dwelling peacocks’ cat-like yowling noises, as well as those produced by the performers, the Jeu de Paume also did duty as the master- class room and as a studio for lessons and rehearsals, with time slots fiercely fought over by students and faculty alike. Thus concert spaces were assured, and although the Conservator’s office promised that the Henri IV wing was reserved for the schools, the return date of the Conservatoire and of the École des Beaux-Arts to the wing was repeatedly postponed. Classes usually held in its rooms were relocated to various places: a small salon in the Hôtel d’Albe became the classroom for solfège and composition lessons; a crude tent erected behind the hotel held a handful of students during daily French classes; master classes were heard in the Albe’s garden room, granted for limited use to the faculty by the tourism bureau; instrumental lessons were given in a meeting room in the business school dormitory; and practice rooms for pianists were procured from the local music school, located a fair hike from the center of activity at the Albe and the Palais. Practicing was discouraged in the INSEAD dor- mitory and in the Albe, but with the only other practice rooms located a 164 � Chapter Twelve 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 164 mile away, scales, Brahms, and Fauré could be heard on the Rue Royale re- gardless. This dispersal of students and practice rooms across the town less- ened the school’s previous tightly knit environment, and students looked for space wherever they could find it, including local bars and hotel and dor- mitory recreation rooms. Scheduling practice time was an exercise in frus- tration; students vied for time and were required to request times on a daily basis, rather than over the long term. With the loss of the school’s restaurant in legal and real estate complica- tions, Conservatoire students took meals at a local restaurant several nights a week and on other nights were given cash to eat on their own. The restau- rant’s staff and managers always seemed surprised to have fifty hungry music and fine-arts students appear each evening, and dinners often lasted hours while the cooks scrambled to feed the often impatiently waiting students. Perhaps more important, the loss of the restaurant also meant the loss of the informal concerts that had occurred there. Although General Secretary Joe Kerr often entertained students at the piano in the salon of the Hôtel d’Albe in the evenings, and other students gathered together occasionally to sight- read, the camaraderie and professional growth provided for by the restaurant concerts was gone forever. The never-ending parade of classes, concerts, and official social events that distinguished the earlier generations of Conservatoire student life was more subdued in the school’s latest incarnation. Demands on the students’ time were less stringent than in previous years. Chorus and solfège classes for instrumentalists were optional rather than obligatory, and no one seemed to mind if a student missed attending a concert or two. Students of the 1990s’ Conservatoire Américain returned home with none of the memories of the social whirl that their predecessors had: there were no longer any costume balls, no elaborately planned fêtes, no grand dinners. Students took advan- tage of the relaxed attendance attitudes, seemingly endorsed by the staff, and took trips to Holland, Spain, and other countries, often without clearing their absences with their teachers or, to its dismay, the administration. The administration seemed incapable of setting forth rules and expectations for students, and was inconsistent in its messages to the faculty about handling problems, but it was quick to discipline when it deemed necessary. As a re- sult, some students came and went without comment, but others’ involve- ment with school activities and concerts was so notably lax that they re- turned from excursions to find that their scholarships had been cut and their performances canceled.20 Elsie Watson, having seen fifty years of Conservatoire triumphs and foibles, was not impressed by the new administration or by the students it “The Frog Rodeo” (1994–present) � 165 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 165 drew. “It’s low class,” she pronounced. The Conservatoire “had grandeur at one time and it went through M. Marty.” No one knew what the school was about anymore, she said; the students treated it like just another festival in a string of such events they would attend in a single summer, hopping from full scholarship to full scholarship without any sense of commitment; the ad- ministration was disgraceful in its lack of organizational abilities and com- mon sense.21 Watson’s analysis of the students’ attitudes was, in fact, fairly accurate; many went from Fontainebleau to other festivals, viewing their four weeks in France as just another stop on their summer program tour. Others saw the Conservatoire as a casual and relaxed program with few real obligations to meet. Yet another part of the problem was the composition of the student body: a number of nonprofessional amateurs and semiprofessional musicians were admitted to the program beginning with Entremont’s tenure. Some, in the manner of returning alumni from days past, had attended the Conserva- toire as young and eager artists and returned now for refresher courses and lessons. Others attended for the first time, combining playing with vacation- ing. Owing to this influx of “students” who attended for the first time as mid- dle-aged adults and treated their time in Fontainebleau like a holiday with musical performances mixed in, Watson and other observers familiar with the school believed that the school had become what Betsy Jolas feared: a French country club for nonprofessionals more interested in spending time abroad than in serious work. The younger and more sincere students also resented this policy that al- lowed less earnest participants to take up, as they saw it, valuable lesson, master-class, and performance time. The problem, compounded by the lim- ited amount of time that professors spent at the school, caused intense dis- satisfaction on the part of students preparing for recitals, auditions, and other important events. However, the frustrations of these students could not be expressed adequately to the administration, because some of the staff members themselves were part of the cadre of nonprofessional stu- dents. From an administrative point of view, there was no problem. Most attendees paid full tuition and often contributed in other ways as well, cov- ering piano rentals, offering transportation in rented cars to faculty and ad- ministration members, and paying for guest artist dinners. This made their attendance very attractive to the administration. Even more distracting and disturbing for faculty, students, and staff than the uneven mix of students was the distant position taken by Entremont af- ter his initial plunge into directing the Conservatoire. With a busy year- round performance schedule, Entremont’s residences in Fontainebleau often 166 � Chapter Twelve 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 166 lasted less than a week. The director often appeared in town, stationed him- self at the local five-star hotel, the Aigle Noir, gave a few classes, a concert, and just as abruptly departed. To many students and even some staff he was brusque and intimidating. Pianist Jessie Fillerup later wrote of her experi- ences with Entremont that, “I played for him in one master class and watched him dismantle the performances and egos of my colleagues on nu- merous occasions.” Perhaps, she commented, “being blessed with a prodi- gious technique, he found it unfathomable that mere mortals like us could struggle with passages that he could dash off in his sleep. It was unfortunate for us that Entremont could never overcome his own self-importance to share with us some of the wisdom of his remarkable French pedigree.”22 Entremont’s installment did restore some semblance of normalcy to the Conservatoire, and although he was not as present as previous directors, he enabled the full-time staff to act in his absence. Office staff ran the day-to- day operations, and students, while finding the undertaking confused and disorganized, rarely went without basic needs or information for very long. However, the school had certainly lost some of its shine; its veneer of ele- gance was gone. “I think the school office in the squalor of the Albe annex is a disgrace,” wrote Elsie Watson, who remembered the time when the di- rector lived in the Palais, and the administrators worked there among the fine and decorative arts that were the pride of France.23 Gaby Casadesus was alone an embodiment of the earlier Conservatoire Américain: stately and dignified in her nineties, she returned each July to give lessons and master classes in the Jeu de Paume, impeccably dressed, communicating priceless gifts to her students in words and music. Yet all good things must end. In October 1999, after teaching all summer at Fontainebleau, Gaby Casadesus died in Paris. She was the last of the orig- inal faculty of Francis Casadesus’s “institution without precedent.” Without her guidance, the school became property of the “Frog Rodeo,” as some jok- ingly termed the chaotic group of Entremont’s entourage, the French board, and the Americans caught up in trying to make it all work. The proof of the school’s commitment to continuation would have to be determined in the following summers. At the beginning of July 2000, as they had for nearly eighty years, Con- servatoire students made the trip from the Gare de Lyon in Paris to the small train station in Fontainebleau-Avon. They were sorted in to quarters at the Hôtel d’Albe, which had been refurbished and modernized over the winter, and into dormitories and other hotels within walking distance of the Palais. Each student listed repertoire that he or she could perform on the first con- cert, seven days away. Introductions were made, classes and lessons began, “The Frog Rodeo” (1994–present) � 167 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 167 and the restaurant continued to appear befuddled as to why large groups of hungry Americans appeared at the door each night. Few of those hungry Americans realized that the last link to the Conservatoire Américain’s foun- dation no longer was present. Returning students and alumni feared for the future of the school without Gaby Casadesus. She had kept the school open during the Second World War, had pushed for the continuance of the Con- servatoire as a full-fledged musical academy following Boulanger’s death, and had insisted that the school remain in business after the resignation of Marty. Gaby Casadesus had been just twenty when she began teaching in the Louis XV wing at the Palais de Fontainebleau, in a brand-new, experimental school run by her husband’s uncle. She and the Conservatoire Américain had a long history, inextricably entwined. The last of the original faculty, Casadesus had been a strong voice on the Conseil d’Administration and a lobbyist for the Conservatoire. Without her determined authority, many wondered how the school would fare in the coming years. Casadesus was honored on July 15, at a concert in the Chapelle de la Trinité featuring Philippe Bianconi, Isabelle Duha, and Philippe Entremont, accompanied by the chamber orchestra of the school. Bianconi and Duha performed two movements of Debussy’s Nocturnes arranged by Ravel for two pianos, followed by Bianconi’s presentation of Robert Casadesus’s Capriccio, op. 49, for piano and strings. After intermission, the student orchestra, di- rected by Entremont from the piano, played Saint-Saëns’s Carnival of the An- imals, with faculty members taking the solo roles. Recordings of Casadesus and Bianconi performing two-piano and four-hands works were given to stu- dents as mementos of the occasion. The works chosen for the recital had special significance to those who knew the Casadesus family. In the program, Entremont explained his choices: “The work by Debussy, transcribed for two pianos by Ravel, honors she who recorded and interpreted so many works for two pianos and four hands with her husband Robert.” Robert’s Capriccio, the director wrote, was one of his crowning efforts and represented Gaby’s dedication to promoting his works. Finally, Entremont wrote, the Carnival of the Animals was chosen because it was a work recorded by Gaby Casadesus, Entremont, and the young Yo-Yo Ma, and it commemorated Saint-Saëns’s presidency of the Con- servatoire Américain at its opening in 1921.24 Another long-time figure was missing from the Fontainebleau scene that summer as well. Betsy Jolas resigned her post as a member of the Conseil d’Administration before the session began and took a leave of absence from her position on the faculty, spending the summer instead in Berlin. While Jolas had not accepted the directorship of the Conservatoire Américain, she 168 � Chapter Twelve 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 168 had willingly served on the French board and had been a strong proponent of the school’s interests. She had argued on Marty’s behalf for strengthening the Conservatoire’s program through the development of stronger funding, attracting better students from a global pool, and working with the town of Fontainebleau to implement the ProQuartet project, which would have brought public awareness and increased recognition of the Conservatoire. Well-known in Europe, her reputation had drawn composition students to Fontainebleau year after year. Her departure from the school’s faculty roster meant a loss of knowledge, experience, prestige, and advocacy for the school. The summer proceeded much like that of any summer festival, and few present understood the changes from years prior to this one. For a few, the changes were dramatic and evident, but for most, it was a peaceful and pleasant summer spent in a little French town. Students attended classes, or skipped them; faculty came to give lessons, or went away for their own concerts; choir was an informal sight-reading session; solfège lessons were optional; students went to Paris, to Spain, to Holland, and returned to play concerts or not, as they chose; practice rooms were parceled out a day at a time; lessons and rehearsals took place in dormitory foyers, hotel rooms, and in a single concert venue in the Palais; students attended faculty and student concerts as they chose; and received diplomas issued from a laser printer at the end of the four-week session. How the Conservatoire Améri- cain had changed, a few remarked, but the changes were indelible, and the institution without precedent had become just another summer camp, just another festival, just ordinary. Notes 1. Anonymous Conservatoire administrative staff member, conversation with author, July 2001. 2. Anonymous Conservatoire administrative staff member, interview with au- thor, July 2000, possession of author. 3. Letter, Jean-Charles de Moustier to Charles Kaufman, undated, CA/F. 4. Emile Naoumoff, interview with author, October 24, 2000, possession of author. 5. Naoumoff, interview. 6. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, 23 November 1993, CA/F. 7. Naoumoff, interview. 8. La République de Seine-et-Marne, January 31, 1994, CA/F. 9. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, March 1994, CA/F. 10. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, March 1994, CA/F. 11. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, April 1994, CA/F. 12. Letter, Norval White to Pierre Devinoy, May 1994, CA/F. “The Frog Rodeo” (1994–present) � 169 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 169 13. Fax, Debra Takakjian to Conseil d’Administration, undated May 1994, CA/F. 14. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, June 1994, CA/F. Also Conservatoire Américain prospectus, 1994, CA/F. 15. Notes of the Conseil d’Administration, September 1994, CA/F. 16. Charles Kaufman, interview with author, March 24, 1999, possession of author. 17. Document of the Conservatoire Américain, undated 1996, CA/F. 18. www.fontainebleauschools.org, September 14, 2000. 19. Sign on salon door, Hôtel d’Albe, July 1999. 20. As occurred in 1999. 21. Elsie Watson, interviews and letters to author, various dates 1999–2001, pos- session of author. 22. Jessie Fillerup, unpublished essay, possession of author. 23. Letter, Elsie Watson to author, September 8, 2000, possession of author. 24. Philippe Entremont, concert program for July 15, 2000. 170 � Chapter Twelve 06-549_Ch12.qxd 10/30/06 6:42 AM Page 170 E P I L O G U E � Nutrisco et Extinguo Throughout the Palais de Fontainebleau, as the prologue notes, visitors can find etchings, sculptures, and embossings of the salamander, the emblem of Francis I, whose vision lifted the chateau from a rough-hewn hunting lodge to the monumental edifice it is today. Several meanings are tied to the salaman- der, among which are patience under suffering and fortitude. Also accompa- nying Francis’s chosen animal familiar is his motto: Nutrisco et Extinguo— “I nourish and I extinguish.” Early in its existence, the Conservatoire Améri- cain adopted as its own symbol this creature: the salamander, always set under a crown of France and often shown curling around an F, has appeared on the Alumni Bulletin, letterheads, and diplomas. The nutrisco half of its accompa- nying motto always seemed appropriate for a school: the unique goal of the Conservatoire Américain was to provide French musical nourishment for American musicians. Indeed, the Conservatoire, like its royal symbol, has en- dured patience under suffering and shown great fortitude through its lifetime. Yet today its situation is precarious at best: its history is one of artistic achieve- ments and cultural excitement, and while threads of this past remain, they are fleeting: a singular concert that rekindles memories of the young Casadesuses, an evening of informal performances, an individual experience in a lesson. As it struggles from year to year, the school steadily diminishes from its historic greatness and role as a significant institution of artistic learning. Other pro- grams both in Europe and America garner higher respect, enjoy greater repu- tations, and train greater numbers of professional and preprofessional musi- cians: Salzburg’s Mozarteum hosts more famed European faculty and better 171 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 171 facilities than does Fontainebleau; the Schleswig-Holstein Musik Festival in Germany offers exceptional orchestral training in the Germanic manner; and the Verbier and Menuhin Academies in Switzerland boast superstar instruc- tors and posh surroundings in which students focus intently on chamber mu- sic. In the United States, the Aspen Festival supports five orchestras and countless pianists and singers each summer for nine full weeks; the Norfolk Festival has been midwife to a number of tremendously successful small en- sembles; and Tanglewood, the Music Academy of the West, Meadowmont, the Ravinia Festival, and the Marlboro Festival all provide students with a highly structured, all-encompassing educational experience at the hands of prominent performers. What has caused the Conservatoire Américain to be- come such an unknown among these summer schools? Although the Conser- vatoire still remains open for students, employs competent professors, and en- rolls a respectably sized group of students each year who are generally enthusiastic about their Fontainebleau experience, the institution today lacks the focus, energy, and status of its heyday. The school has only two options open to it: to commit to a seriously undertaken revival, or to continue on its present path of inertia to an ultimate extinction. The reasons for the Conservatoire Américain’s decline are manifold, but can essentially be distilled into three primary points: complacency and a lack of business acumen among the leadership; the decline of a coherent policy of the school’s purpose and intent; and the absence of an energetic resolve through to a more clearly defined mission. Culpability must also be placed on time itself. Damrosch’s comment that the Conservatoire was one of the few positive outcomes of the Great War can be analyzed in hindsight as a telling indicator of the period in which the school best flourished: as a unifying agent for cross-Atlantic artistic communities during a time when such al- liances were crucial to maintaining solid popular support and respect for joint political ventures, the Conservatoire’s initial founding would not be consid- ered so today, a time in which the United States is more at odds with its Eu- ropean allies than any time since the 1956 Suez crisis. The national exuber- ance and gratitude of the French to Americans at the end of the war provided an environment ideal for the creation of intercultural partnerships such as the Conservatoire. As a result of this the school found support and patronage among the aristocracy and moneyed arts lovers of both countries. Through- out the interwar period and the immediate post–World War II era, cultural considerations again led to an anti-German backlash that, while far more tempered in terms of artistic acceptance and performance of nineteenth- century German works than that which had occurred during the First World War, was nonetheless a determining factor when it came to encouraging 172 � Epilogue 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 172 American students to study abroad. France was once more the Continental location of choice for students of all disciplines, and in this atmosphere the Conservatoire flourished, both recalling the close cultural relationship be- tween France and America during the 1920s and capitalizing on the new de- votion the French displayed toward their liberators. Nadia Boulanger’s directorship continued to build on the Franco-American relationship as she solicited funding and public support from her American patrons. Even more effectively, she used the cult of personality surrounding her teaching prowess as a means for developing a hagiographic raison d’être for the school’s very existence. Though this practice and Boulanger’s reputa- tion served the school well in increasing enrollment and name recognition, it has been shown that the rest of the administration—both French and American—were far too acquiescent in allowing this atmosphere of hero worship to grow into unreasonable justification solely for the promotion and continuation of the school itself; its initial purpose had, after all, been much grander than to merely showcase the abilities of a single instructor. This is- sue of Boulanger’s mythical status is one that has largely been ignored in stud- ies of her. Most writers, in dealing with this legend, prefer to leave her as such. In any analysis of the Conservatoire Américain, however, a critical view of Boulanger’s role and the impact of her standing as the “master teacher” must be introduced as part of a greater consideration of the school’s history and present existence. Boulanger, in her desire to control the school’s affairs to the utmost, created a despotic system at the Conservatoire in which she became both revered as the consummate academic musician and in- structor and feared as a harsh imparter of censure and dictates. Perhaps Boulanger truly believed that kindness required cruelty, or perhaps her ten- dencies had developed because she felt it necessary to prove that she was as strict and hard as any man in the profession. Regardless of why her tempera- ment so developed, Boulanger’s duality caused a disparity in the reactions of students. As often occurs with the perception of figures in positions of power, despite the size or natures of their empires, an amalgamation of these aspects was created, that of the stern and demanding pedagogue who sacrificed her own personal contentment for the greater good of perfecting the skills of those students whom she deemed deserving of her gifts as a mentor. This fig- ure, the mythical “Mademoiselle” who was generous with her time and yet reserved and somehow intimidating, was a great boon to the Conservatoire during Boulanger’s peak, but diminished as her decline became inevitably ob- vious starting in the early 1960s. To study at Fontainebleau with Boulanger meant that a student had reached the pinnacle of musical studies; that with sufficient work and self-sacrifice, an anointment of sorts was possible: the Epilogue � 173 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 173 approval, at the end of the session, of the master teacher, the blessing of the virgin priestess of music. It was widely known that a Boulanger student was a real musician, one tempered by her tests and capable of great feats of the ear, eye, and hand. The pedagogical methods she used were ordinary: rote, memorization, recitation; students learned their materials and flourished; or did not and were belittled. Those who passed not only the initial tests but convinced Boulanger that they were very serious about their studies—often, those who made the commitment to stay on in Paris for further work with her after the summer had ended—could hope to be, but not rely on being, introduced to established musicians and assisted in their careers. As the Boulanger legend grew, the dissenting voices that spoke to her flaws both personally and pedagogically—including Virgil Thomson’s—were crushed by the weight of her supporters, those who had believed the myth before meet- ing Boulanger, and who, despite evidence to the contrary, continued to be- lieve that her methods of teaching students about music were revolutionary, inspired, and unique approaches, when in fact they were derived from her own Paris Conservatoire training with little variation. Furthering the myth of the all-powerful teacher was the lack of attention paid to the fact that within her group of approved students, Boulanger could be fickle, withdrawing from one particular pupil or another for a perceived slight or flaw. Much of this behavior added to the cult of personality around Boulanger: that she could aid students in launching careers was well- reported, but not that she could yet be so hostile to their peers. Few who went to France to study with her realized how she had treated some of her supposedly favored students: Louise Talma remained faithful to Boulanger and her methodology all of her life, even after Boulanger had rejected Talma’s work. Boulanger encouraged the perception of being the benevolent imparter of music’s secrets, discussing her life’s work in terms of responding to a divine gift and of wanting to do no more than help others use their equally god-given gifts in the way the Holy Spirit intended. Thus Boulanger became the conduit for celestial guidance in all things musical, the creator of a kind of musical gospel. How could any serious musician resist the lure of studying under such a figure? Countless students of the Conservatoire Améri- cain went on to successful careers—but was it because they were guided and properly prepared for those careers through the education provided by Boulanger, or were they already exceptional talents who attended Fontainebleau because they were drawn to the myth of Boulanger? Little credit is given to any other professors of the Conservatoire during this time, but surely study with Menuhin was as influential as study with Boulanger. 174 � Epilogue 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 174 The Conservatoire Américain, armed with this deified leader and a vi- brant faculty beneath her, was intensely strong in its presence as a serious conservatory. The fact that end-of-session juries and exams were taken seri- ously by a panel of acclaimed teaching staff performers, and the fact that diplomas issued by the school carried enough weight to allow a school mu- sic teacher to be considered renewed in her credentials, or to allow a per- former to be esteemed higher than a peer who had not attended, indicated that without a doubt the rest of the musical world valued the kind of study undertaken by Fontainebleau students, and equally as important, valued the assessments the school made of those students. The cult of Boulanger strengthened the Conservatoire for many years, to the point that many ad- ministrators and staff had begun to believe that their leader was not merely mostly infallible, but somehow immortal as well. Boulanger’s own belief in her supremacy as the director of the school led it to the brink of closure fol- lowing her death. The resulting instability put the school in a far more pre- carious position than it had ever experienced. Because of the succeeding ad- ministrations’ inability to recall the Conservatoire Américain’s initial raison d’être or to produce a renewed vision of the school’s purpose without refer- ring to Boulanger, the post-Marty years saw the school set on a murkily de- fined path in regard to almost every aspect of the school’s operation and ex- istence, from the student and faculty bodies to the training that would be provided and the nature of the program as a whole. As the end of the Cold War and the resulting interaction between artists of the West and the former Soviet bloc nations became more pronounced, and as the influx of students from Asia into European conservatories grew, the blending of heretofore strictly delineated national-school styles and de- sire to promote the inclusion of different interpretative techniques and tastes developed. The result was the further dilution of the philosophy that Amer- ican musicians—being of a country with a younger musical heritage than its Continental allies yet a nation in which the musical life was nonetheless brisk—should desire professional training administered by the most skilled musicians France had to offer. In light of this, before further considering the matter of the effects of time and the responsibility of the Conservatoire’s gatekeepers, the question must therefore be asked as to the variable nature of intent and at what point orig- inal intentions should give way to contemporary mores and cultural consid- erations. In its quest to become more encompassing of non-French teachers and non-American students (for a variety of reasons, discussed further below), the Conservatoire in Fontainebleau has become an institution operating, Epilogue � 175 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 175 seemingly, without any premise or intent at all. The last attempt to adhere to a categorically French musical education was that of Jean-Pierre Marty, which was stunning in its complete rejection of the American professoriate that had come to serve the school. Whether Marty’s outright dismissal of the adminis- trative tactics of the Mannes-affiliated staff—not to mention the manner in which it was accomplished—was a wise decision is left for debate. In any event, the school expanded and achieved much under that program. Yet for Marty and many of the purists who had witnessed the school’s pre-Boulanger incarnation, eliminating that very form was an important step in restoring the school from a chaotic existence—in which the founding principles had been set aside—to one more positively identifying with the goals of Francis Casadesus’s manifesto of original intent. Marty’s Conservatoire students were primarily Americans, the faculty almost exclusively French. Music was learned from scratch under the guidance of coaches intent on bringing to the fore the French aesthetics involved with each performance. Harmony, ear- training, and choral classes followed the Paris Conservatoire methods down to the solfège materials used. With Marty’s resignation, the administration of the school passed to the relatively uninvolved Entremont and a cadre of Americans who have drifted away from the Paris Conservatoire—or early Conservatoire Américain, for that matter—curriculum or process of the French transmission of style and methods. There seems to be an ambiguity as to exactly what the current adminis- tration and supporters of the Conservatoire Américain wish to accomplish. The official mission of the school is presented as follows: In recent years the American Conservatory at Fontainebleau has widened its mission of initiation and discovery of French music and culture to include not only the best American musicians but musicians from all parts of the globe. Courses in piano, violin, viola, cello, composition, theory and chamber music will not only provide opportunities for educational advancement, they will also set the stage for diverse cultural exchange.1 This statement seems to indicate that the Conservatoire retains the prac- tice of promoting French repertoire as was initiated by Robert and Gaby Casadesus in the first years of the school’s existence. However, in comparing programs of the past five years with those from before 1993, there is a clearly visible decline in the amount of French repertoire performed by both stu- dents and faculty in performances hosted by the school. The custom of hold- ing French composer minifestivals has all but died out, save for a rare 1999 commemoration recital for Robert Casadesus in which several of his works 176 � Epilogue 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 176 were presented. In suggesting that the only mission of the Conservatoire is to introduce students to French music and culture, the statement issued by the school implies that, perhaps due to the globalization of musical style and per- formance, there is no longer a need or desire for American students to ac- quire the skills of Paris Conservatoire–trained French musicians. Certainly, the musical community is today more ecumenical in its national identifica- tions and interpretive and performance schools, and to the administration this may be a reasonable validation of the current attitude in relation to the employment of non-French professors. Even if this rationale is received with- out question, there still remains a considerable fissure in the school’s mission: how is it introducing students to French music and culture without a more in-depth treatment of the overlap of those arenas, the intersection of aes- thetic taste and style that serves to inform performance practices. A student cannot be said to have been introduced to French music merely by hearing it, but must work within the boundaries of what constitutes French music and French compositional technique in order to assimilate that knowledge, a situation Francis Casadesus sought to promote. As for the nationality of the students, perhaps there is no compelling reason to continue the requirement of American citizenship. The political climate in the United States is one of inclusivity, and doubtless the potential for allegations of discrimination has affected this last point. Both of these are satisfactory reasons for the school to have changed from an institution focused on teaching French musician- ship to Americans to one hoping for a wider musico-cultural dialogue by en- gaging performers and teachers from throughout the world. In making this change, the Conservatoire could have taken purposeful steps in a direction away from its initial position, but toward an equally valuable position—were it pursued vigorously enough—of advancing a curriculum and repertoire still rooted in French methods and composition. Yet this does not seem to have occurred with any authority. The curriculum is nebulously defined and the repertoire left to mere suggestion without concrete obligations. Methods in the nonperformance areas of harmony, ear-training, and analysis are offered in a course led by Isabelle Duha that is geared toward composers and pianists and often scheduled inefficiently for other students interested in attending. Despite Duha’s Paris Conservatoire faculty position, the course is not offered in the format of those in years gone by—classroom instruction complete with assignments and assessment of progress—but as an informal seminar or indi- vidual coaching sessions. As for performance, students perform whatever works they have brought, be they French, German, or American works; the concerts are scheduled in advance and must be filled to certain length re- quirements, regardless of whether any students have French repertoire ready Epilogue � 177 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 177 for performance. Thus changes have occurred more by passive allowance than thoughtfully considered actions. The current president of the Écoles d’Art Américaines, Thérèse Casadesus Rawson, indicates that she views the school more as a continuing memorial to her parents, Robert and Gaby, than a living institution in need of new energy.2 Studying the Conservatoire Américain’s uneven and haphazard path from its initial goals to its current mission statement, it is apparent that the present position was not one adopted through careful analysis and evaluation, leading to a specific and newly delineated goal. The reasons for the shift from an organized and strongly self-deterministic organization to one shaped more by external forces to shape its policies has occurred much as water wears away stone: little by little and over much time. While today’s administration cannot be faulted for negligences of the past, it must accept the necessity of clarifying and redirecting the policies of a well- established institution; of delivering it into the twenty-first century with its strengths intact and with new vigor to meet the challenges that have evolved during the last half century. New leadership—bringing with it determined objectives and vigorous, active direction—is required to prevent the Con- servatoire from continuing its slide into obscurity and closure. The Conservatoire Américain today is beset by several problems that have contributed to its decline from being an institution without precedent into one that must regain its originality. The lack of a clear agenda in teaching style and dissemination of repertoire has been discussed. Perhaps even more deadly for a school already dealing with an uncertain long-term future is the lack of an identity. In a time when “identity” and “brand” are the business world’s favored catchphrases, Fontainebleau requires this inef- fable and crucial characteristic. Strengthening several aspects would con- tribute to the school’s visible identity in the musical community, consis- tent, creative, and energetic leadership; a visible and positive relationship with the Palais de Fontainebleau; a more competitive curriculum; rigorous public relations and active recruitment; a reassessment of the length and nature of the program; and the establishment of higher standards for levels of attainment of the students. The Conservatoire Américain’s relationship with the Palais was one of contention from its inception, when the chateau’s keepers protested the manners of the Americans residing in its halls. As time has passed, the Con- servatoire has been shunted from the elegant Louis XV wing to the “Kitchen Quarter” and finally into just two rooms for lesson, master-class, and per- formance use only. The signs that hung above the doorways even to the rooms in the Quartier Henri IV had been taken down, and today a visitor 178 � Epilogue 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 178 to the Palais would have no indication of the school’s presence there. The Conseil is told by the Palais that as soon as the funding becomes available for renovations to be completed, the Conservatoire will be back in its lodg- ings, but in the ten years since the school was all but ousted from the grounds there is little indication that a full return is likely. The loss of its traditional home in the Palais has meant for the school that much of what had made it notable in the past was absent: no other summer program had been able to boast of study and performances in such a historically and ar- tistically important venue. By having to send its students to practice at the poorly outfitted local music school and having teachers give lessons in ho- tel rooms, lobbies, and the Albe’s pavilion, the Conservatoire Américain had been reduced to a makeshift outfit without the panache of a royal resi- dence. Acceptable as a stopgap measure for a year or two, these conditions have persisted without any allowances by the Palais for the much needed ad- ditional space in the chateau that would help restore the school’s presence in and connections with the building. The declining affiliation of the Con- servatoire with the chateau weakens the school to a position where it is in- distinguishable from any other summer program using borrowed buildings and materiel. As the legend holds that the Tower of London and monarchy should fall were its ravens to depart it, the inverse may be happening in Fontainebleau: the Conservatoire Américain has left the Palais and in that homeless state is prone to demise far more than were it ensconced in the chateau enjoying the support and recognition of the municipality and the public. The relationship with the Palais is indicative of the Conservatoire’s state of affairs in the town as well. While Marty had worked especially dili- gently to enlist the support of the mayor at the time, the present civil ad- ministration of the town shows little interest in assisting, promoting, or even recognizing the school. The long-standing traditions of performing at the Hôtel de Ville (Town Hall) for Bastille Day and for the Feast of St. Louis (Fontainebleau’s patron saint) have fallen away in recent years. Performing for the feast day disappeared as the session grew short and no students re- mained in Fontainebleau on August 16; until 2001 a traditional Bastille Day performance of the French and American national anthems, sung and played by the student body and conducted by the director, was a given. Re- turning students and observers were surprised when in the school’s eightieth year there was no invitation to the mayoral offices for the customary singing and champagne reception. Brushed aside as a one-time administrative over- sight, the same lack of an invitation was repeated in 2002, 2003, and 2004, indicating more firmly that the town was not interested in the music school bearing its name. Being unable to strongly connect with the Palais or town Epilogue � 179 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 179 causes the Conservatoire Américain to take on the role of a seasonal inter- loper, more tourist than resident. Location can serve as an important factor in identification, especially when a place-name is incorporated into an en- tity’s own appellation: the “London School of Economics” conjures up a very different identifying image and related recognition than does the “Madras School of Economics” or simply the “school of economics.” With- out a clear connection in the present time to Fontainebleau—as both the town and the Palais—as a place or orientation, the Conservatoire Améri- cain loses a crucial part of its identity that was so carefully and deliberately created and had been a part of the school’s historical cachet. The issue of competing programs is one touched on earlier, but bears more thorough consideration. Other serious summer music schools— meaning those that purport to train young professionals and preprofession- als for concert careers, both in the United States and abroad—are widely disparate. Few have the lengthy artistic pedigree the Conservatoire holds, and yet many of these programs are considered more effective courses for the collegiate musicians to whom they are marketed. There are several rea- sons the Conservatoire has such difficulty competing with these younger institutions, some of which are also integral to the school’s lack of identity: lack of sufficient financial means by which to attract more and better stu- dents through scholarships; the insufficient publicity and deliberately low- key recruiting protocols of the Conservatoire; and the nature of the pro- gram itself. Financially speaking, the Conservatoire Américain charges the same amount of tuition ($2,500) for its four weeks of instruction as does the Aspen Music Festival for its nine. Scholarships for Fontainebleau stu- dents are generally small, with the occasional exception for an outstanding performer already tapped by a member of the faculty or administration, whereas every student admitted to the Tanglewood Music Center and the Marlboro Festival receives a substantial if not full scholarship to attend. There is little incentive for students to travel abroad when the better value lies in staying within the United States; and the drawing power of the fes- tivals mentioned above and their faculty rosters is undeniable: the Aspen Music Festival fields several orchestras each year, and Marlboro’s slots for pianists are known to be filled up to a year in advance. Should a student wish to study overseas despite the array of opportunities in the United States, there is no shortage of programs with which the Conservatoire Américain struggles to compete: the Mozarteum’s Sommerakademie in Salzburg; the International Orchestral Institute Attergau, run by the Vi- enna Philharmonic Orchestra; the Schleswig-Holstein Musik Festival; and the Verbier and Menuhin academies in Switzerland. All of these younger 180 � Epilogue 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 180 summer schools have one distinct advantage over the Conservatoire—the presence of an ambitious and active publicity and recruitment arm. The Conservatoire Américain’s most recent position on promotion is a curious one. While during the Mannes involvement the enormous powers of that school’s promotional experience served to create a high level of recog- nition and publicity for the school, and under Marty carefully written brochures extolling the school’s history and features were likewise distributed widely, the current policy appears to take the position that in order to attract the best levels of students—as opposed to the perhaps less distinguished at- tendants of lower level music schools and departments—word-of-mouth ad- vertising is the best method for attracting students to the school and letting it be known that the school is, in fact, accepting applicants for the coming summer. Today the school’s existence is made known almost exclusively through its Internet site and its annual benefit recital and dinner in New York, for which it sends out invitations to alumni. This event, however, is ap- parently only infrequently covered by the musical or social press, the last mention being a brief review of performances of Robert Casadesus’s works on the 1999 program in The New York Times.3 Applications are available through those in contact with the Fontainebleau Associations and its board members and staff, but there is hardly the kind of public relations campaign one might expect from a school interested in continuing a long and impor- tant tradition of educating top-level musicians.4 The assumption, made by members of the administration, that better students are generally referred by Fontainebleau alumni and should therefore receive information not available on a widespread basis is a difficult supposition to prove. Although it is gen- erally agreed that the majority of students perform at a high level, it cannot be said that the school would find less adept applicants were it to promote it- self more rigorously. By limiting its publicity to these scant prospects, the Conservatoire Américain denies itself an entire realm of potential students and future alumni who might in turn support the school in terms of both proffered skills and positive recommendations but also in the area of finan- cial support, an area where the school clearly could use the monetarily ex- pressed gratitude of satisfied alumni. The final factor in the Conservatoire Américain’s inability to truly com- pete with its summer conservatory rivals is the nature of the program itself. As discussed earlier, as of the current administration there is an ambiguity as to what direction the Conservatoire is attempting to take: Entremont ini- tially proposed an end to instrumental lessons except for piano; professors, while well known on the Continent, are less recognized in the United States and come and go from the school as dictated by their own performance Epilogue � 181 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 181 schedules, creating a discontinuity of study for the students; and the want of an enforced attendance policy or requirements for the students frequently leads to absences by attendees and an informal atmosphere not conducive to the intense summer of study the Conservatoire once insisted on. With its nebulous ambition and lack of communication as to what the school is seek- ing in applicants and for its own future, there is little surprise that the school often strives at the last moment to find enough students in one area or an- other so as to have an adequate balance for the session.5 However, recruitment problems are often offset by a tactic that is the fi- nal element in the school’s decreasing reputation but that has been an un- fortunate part of the Conservatoire since its inception: accepting full- paying students of lower performance levels in order to subsidize those of higher ones. Perhaps it is now time for the school’s administration to de- cide whether it will embrace the notion of a mixed professional-amateur student body; cater more exclusively to the paying amateurs or semiprofes- sional students interested in attending the school as part of a musical va- cation; or focus on the Conservatoire’s traditional track of training young professionals serious about pursuing careers in performance. Historical precedent shows that the first option has always had a foothold, albeit grudgingly admitted in private by directors and board members. Whether this should remain the case, be ended, or be tempered into a reasonable ac- commodation on all fronts must be decided by an administration willing to learn from the past but to exist untied to it. The cash-for-talent tradeoff began as far back as 1922, when the Conseil d’Administration reluctantly agreed that the less talented and less serious but more moneyed should be admitted in order to offset the costs of the talented and committed but needy. The practice continued—and flourished—during Boulanger’s stint as director, and as part of this practice, older alumni of any level and professional ambition or achievement were encouraged to return for refresher courses. However, the delineation was clear: the most promising students stood out from those who were not destined for the soloist’s life, and the opportunities for the younger and more viable talents were not impinged on by other attendees. As the financial situation became truly dire following Marty’s resignation, it was clear that as much as the school wanted to give partial or full scholarships to every student, that would not be possible, and accepting tolerably competent students who could pay full tuition along with the more talented who could not was an attractive compromise. In compar- ison to the way things had been handled previously, young, collegiate musi- cians who could pay were accepted alongside their more talented peers, cre- ating a more uneven level of ability within the supposedly equal ranks. 182 � Epilogue 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 182 Today, there is a mixture of these practices, resulting in the acceptance of not quite as gifted but full-paying students and a number of older musicians seek- ing a “working vacation” experience in music. Acceptance of these students must—barring a new mission or policy of inclusion—all therefore come down to finances, and an examination of the school’s economic state bears this out. Because of the low visibility that the Alumni Association—later re- grouped as the Fontainebleau Associations, Inc.—had experienced (due mostly to its own lack of initiative and the fact that it had been a completely and intentionally amateur operation for many years), raising capital or im- mediate-use funding was more difficult than organizers had anticipated. Tra- ditional sponsors like the Copland Foundation and the Getty Foundation stopped providing assistance, and by 2002 the largest donors were the Flo- rence Gould Foundation ($35,000 plus) and Thérèse Casadesus Rawson ($10,000 plus) herself, with other foundations and individuals providing minute amounts compared to the annual operating costs. In 2002 just one foundation gave a grant of $5,000 or more; three groups made smaller dona- tions, and only thirteen alumni—several of them also board members—gave gifts ranging from under $100 to $1,000.6 Such low levels of outside funding were common through the mid- and late 1990s, and so a greater number of semiprofessional and amateur adult students were accepted who, by paying full tuition, could offset the costs of basic needs: faculty salaries, auto rentals, utilities, insurance, and so on. The Conservatoire seems to be well on the way to becoming—at least for some attendees—the “Frenchified country club” that Betsy Jolas decried ten years ago. It is clear that if the Conserva- toire wishes to regain even a glimmer of its previous prestige and purpose, it will need to undergo serious reconsideration of its mission and values. While it is not the historian’s place to offer prescriptive commentary, it is nonethe- less obvious to all who encounter it today that the school that has nourished so many must now be nourished itself, with adept and willing leadership, or it will indeed extinguish. Notes 1. www.fontainebleauschools.org/Pages/frameset.html (accessed January 30, 2003). 2. Thérèse Casadesus Rawson, correspondence and communication with author, various dates, possession of author. 3. Anthony Tommasini, “Little-Known Works of a Renowned French Pianist,” The New York Times, Friday, September 24, 1999. 4. In commencing research for this book, I found available so little information on the Conservatoire Américain that initially I thought that it had, in fact, closed Epilogue � 183 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 183 for good. At that time no website existed and it was not listed in International Mu- sician, Chamber Music America’s annual guide to summer schools, Strings magazine’s similar annual guide, Clavier magazine’s listings, or any other reference a student or instructor might search in order to obtain information about a given program or program opportunities. 5. Thérèse Casadesus Rawson, e-mail to author, November 27, 2000, possession of author. 6. Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin, February 2002, 4. 184 � Epilogue 06-549_z01_Epi.qxd 10/30/06 6:43 AM Page 184 � A Note on the Appendixes The archives of the Conservatoire Américain are in a precarious state. Records in France exist in the Palais de Fontainebleau, in various manners of order and condition ranging from the well preserved to the nearly destroyed. Others are stored in the school’s properties in Fontainebleau, the Hôtel d’Albe and the Hôtel Barassy, in attics and basements, most of them stored in cardboard boxes roughly organized by decade. Yet other materials are held by the Fontainebleau Municipal Library, again in boxes and envelopes. Archival materials in the United States are held in a warehouse in Brooklyn; by institutions associated at one time or another with the Conservatoire; and by private individuals, some of whom have been able to properly preserve old papers and iconographic archives; others who have not. The majority of doc- uments from the 1930s and 1940s were destroyed when a sewer line flooded the basement of the Hôtel d’Albe. Other documents have been lost to time and the deaths of record-keepers. The information contained in the following appendixes is based on the ex- isting records of the Conservatoire, its alumni, and others who generously opened their collections for study. Because of the conditions and document losses detailed above, some information is missing. While the information pre- sented here is all drawn from original documents, the reader should be aware that not all of the information contained in these appendixes is complete. 185 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 185 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 186 A P P E N D I X A � A Timeline of the Conservatoire 1918 General Pershing requests Walter Damrosch and Francis Casadesus to establish a school for American army musicians at the Chateau of Chaumont in the Loire Valley. 1919 The École Américaine du Chef de Musique opens at Chaumont for the summer. Francis Casadesus begins planning for a permanent summer school for American musicians. 1920 In November, Casadesus, Maurice Fragnaud, and others convene to officially create the Conservatoire Américain. 1921 The Conservatoire Américain opens at the Palais de Fontainebleau on June 26. Notable students include Aaron Copland, Stanley Av- ery, and Zo Elliott. The Conservatoire ends its first year with per- formances in Paris on September 23. 1922 Francis Casadesus is named honorary director of the Conservatoire. 1923 Max d’Ollone serves as temporary music director, overseeing day-to- day affairs. 1924 Discussions begin to eliminate competitions for the Premier Prix. Stu- dents include David Dushkin and Ariel Gross. Charles-Marie Widor takes over as music director. 1925 The Conservatoire partially moves from the Louis XV wing to the Henri IV courtyard in the Palais. Notable students include later 187 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 187 longtime Conservatoire supporter and pianist Beveridge Webster, Ariel Gross (Louise Lyon), Lucille Jolly, Clara Rabinowitch, and Harold Richey. The École des Beaux-Arts, the Conservatoire’s sister- school for architecture, moves into the Palais. 1926 Competitions for the Premier Prix end in most areas, replaced by diplomas indicating Excellence in Execution or Fitness for Teaching. Louise Talma attends for the first time, beginning her long relation- ship with the school. 1927 Madeline Grey presents a premiere of several of Ravel’s songs at a recital at the Conservatoire. 1929 The American stock market crashes; tuition for three months of study at the Conservatoire is $300. 1930 Damrosch visits the Conservatoire for an early tenth-anniversary celebration of concerts and parties. Notable students include Anita Hankwitz Kastner, Marguerite Quarles, and Virginia Quarles. 1932 The Palais insists that the Conservatoire furnish dormitories for its students, setting off a long-standing feud. 1933 Isidor Philipp begins to teach a class on memorization and stage fright to help train students to the new requirements of playing with- out music. 1934 Maurice Ravel is named director general of the Conservatoire, re- placing Charles-Marie Widor. 1936 Robert Casadesus is appointed head of the piano department, re- placing the retiring Isidor Philipp, and begins to develop a more Francophile curriculum of repertoire. 1937 Ravel dies. Notable students include David Diamond, who enrolls as a student of Nadia Boulanger. Composer and pianist Camille Decreus takes the position of director general. 1938 Louise Talma wins the Stovall Prize for composition for the first time. 1939 Igor Stravinsky serves as a judge on the composition competition panel, awarding the Stovall Prize to Louise Talma, her second win in two years. The Second World War begins at the end of the Conser- vatoire’s session, sending students home early. Camille Decreus dies. 188 � Appendix A 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 188 1940 Damrosch declares in April that the Conservatoire must survive the war. Gaby and Robert Casadesus operate the Conservatoire-in-exile at St. George’s School in Newport, Rhode Island. 1941 The Conservatoire opens for a second year at St. George’s. 1942 The Casadesuses move the Conservatoire to Great Barrington, Massachusetts, for the summer when the beaches of Rhode Island are closed for military exercises. Notable students include pianist and musicologist Charles Rosen. 1943 In France, supporters of the Conservatoire rescue music and other school possessions, hiding them in secret rooms at the Palais. Classes continue with the Casadesuses in New England. 1944 Classes continue with the Casadesuses in New England. 1945 Fontainebleau is liberated in August. Robert Casadesus is appointed director of the Conservatoire; Marcel Dupré will serve as director general. 1946 The Casadesuses return to Fontainebleau with seventeen students to reestablish the Conservatoire. Soulima Stravinsky and Nadia Boulanger perform works by Igor Stravinsky at the Conservatoire. 1947 Nadia Boulanger formally returns to the Conservatoire as professor of composition. 1948 Robert Casadesus resigns as director following the illness of his daughter Thérèse. Nadia Boulanger is appointed director of the Conservatoire. The school acquires the Hotel d’Albe for housing fe- male students. 1949 The Pasquier Trio joins the faculty. Notable students include pianist Idil Biret, who attends as a student of Boulanger. Queen Elisabeth of Belgium attends the final student concert of the year. 1950 Kermit Moore wins the Lili Boulanger prize, and future Conserva- toire director Narcis Bonet is awarded the composition prize. Other notable students include musicologist Bathia Churgin, violinist Stu- art Fasovsky, and pianist Arthur Frackenpohl. 1951 Notable students include “P. D. Q. Bach” countertenor John Fer- rante, Bathia Churgin, and William Battaile. A Timeline of the Conservatoire � 189 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 189 1952 Notable students include Idil Biret, Malcolm Frager, and Roger Kamien. 1953 Darius Milhaud composes student test-piece for piano competition. Notable students include Luise Vosgerchian. 1954 Concerts by Pierre Fournier, Paul Bazelaire, Jean Françaix, Doda Conrad, and Maurice Gendron are huge successes. Competition pieces are composed for the school by Aaron Copland, Henri Du- tilleux, Jean Françaix, Marcelle de Manziarly, Darius Milhaud, and Michal Spisak. For the piano competition, “Mr. Darius Milhaud has accepted to compose a work to be performed for this competition. The prize winner will not only receive a money award, but M. Mil- haud’s work will be dedicated to him and played by him at a concert of the Radio-Diffusion Nationale Française as well as the Embassy concert.” Students present the premiere of Jean Françaix’s opera Paris á Nous Deux in the Fontainebleau Municipal Theater in honor of Yehudi Menuhin, who conducts the performances. Student Luise Vosgerchian wins the Salabert Composition Prize. 1956 The curriculum includes “master classes with Nadia Boulanger, Robert Casadesus, Clifford Curzon, Yehudi Menuhin, Pierre Bernac, & Francis Poulenc commentating and supervising the interpretation of his songs, piano, two pianos, chamber music works and concerto for organ.” 1957 Boulanger turns seventy and resigns from the Paris Conservatory. The Conservatoire buys the Hôtel Barassy as lodging for male students. 1959 Alumnus Malcolm Frager wins the Leventritt Competition. 1960 Alumnus Malcolm Frager wins the Queen Elisabeth of Belgium In- ternational Competition. Notable students include Mozart scholar Robert Levin and pianist James Harrison. 1961 Notable students include Don Campbell, James Harrison, and Robert Levin. 1962 Notable students include musicologist Susan Forscher Weiss, Robert Levin, and pianist and composer Yung Shen. 1963 Notable students include Robert Levin and Yung Shen. 1964 Notable students include pianists Andre-Michel Schub, Robert Levin, and Juliana Osinchuk. 190 � Appendix A 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 190 1965 Notable students include pianists Samuel Sanders, Juliana Os- inchuk, and Yung Shen. 1966 Notable students include Krzysztof Meyer and Juliana Osinchuk. 1967 Notable students include pianist Jay Gottlieb and Jeremy Menuhin. 1969 Boulanger’s last protégé, Emile Naoumoff, begins his summers at Fontainebleau. Other notable students include pianist Douglas Buys, cellist Pierre Djokic, theorist Donna Doyle, pianist Jay Gottlieb, composer Stefan Kozinski, and harmony student Princess Irene of Greece. 1970 Notable students include Pierre Djokic, Jay Gottlieb, Stefan Kozin- ski, and Emile Naoumoff. 1971 Aaron Copland attends a concert of his works presented by Conser- vatoire faculty and students in honor of the school’s fiftieth anniver- sary and his own seventieth birthday. Notable students include Jay Gottlieb, Jeremy Menuhin, Emile Naoumoff, and Juliana Osinchuk. 1972 Piano professor Jean Casadesus, the son of Gaby and Robert, is killed in an automobile accident in Canada. Notable students include so- prano June Anderson, Douglas Buys, Donna Doyle, Stefan Kozinski, and Emile Naoumoff. 1973 The Conservatoire’s by-laws are officially changed to allow non- American students into the school in large numbers for the first time. Notable students include June Anderson, Douglas Buys, and Emile Naoumoff. 1974 Notable students include Emile Naoumoff. Alumnus Andre-Michel Schub wins the Naumberg International Piano Competition. 1975 Notable students include composer Joel Feigin, Stefan Kozinski, Emile Naoumoff, and Yuko Satoh. 1976 Notable students include musicologist Dorothy DeVal, Joel Feigin, Emile Naoumoff, and Yuko Satoh. 1977 Alumnus Andre-Michel Schub wins the Avery Fisher Recital Award. 1978 Boulanger teaches at Fontainebleau for the last time. Menuhin stu- dents Tasmin Little, Christina Thomas, and Antonio Lysy perform at a special benefit concert. Notable students include Emile Naoumoff A Timeline of the Conservatoire � 191 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 191 and Christopher Zimmerman. Alumna June Anderson makes her professional debut with the New York City Opera as the Queen of the Night in The Magic Flute. 1979 Boulanger dies. Robert Levin begins teaching at the Conservatoire in order to keep it functioning, and James Harrison becomes presi- dent of the Board of Trustees in New York. Narcis Bonet is appointed director. 1980 The Conservatoire forms a partnership with the Mannes College of Music to provide administrative and financial support. 1981 Alumnus Andre-Michel Schub wins the Van Cliburn International Piano Competition. 1983 Notable students include Florin Parvulescu and Wendy Sutter. 1986 Bonet resigns the position of director. 1987 Jean-Pierre Marty is appointed director, cuts ties with the Mannes College of Music, and establishes a separate entity to support the school. 1988 Leonard Bernstein holds a series of concerts and master classes at the Conservatoire to benefit the school. 1992 A rift develops between the Conservatoire’s French administration and the American Alumni Association. 1993 Director Jean-Pierre Marty resigns. Notable students include clar- inetist Samuel Caviezel, composer Bruce Bennett, and violinist Sashka Korzenska. 1994 Pianist and conductor Philippe Entremont takes up the post of director and the Alumni Association restores its support of the Conservatoire. 1996 Notable students include composer Dalit Warshaw. 1998 Notable students include the piano duo of Jerry and Shih-Yu Wong. 1999 Gaby Casadesus, the last surviving founding member of the Conser- vatoire faculty, dies in Paris. Notable students include composer Hillary Zipper and pianist Elizabeth Pridgen. 2000 Betsy Jolas resigns from the Conservatoire. 192 � Appendix A 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 192 2004 The American Music Research Center at the University of Col- orado, Boulder, hosts “Nadia Boulanger in America: A Symposium,” with keynote speakers presenting research on the Conservatoire and Boulanger. 2005 Alumni Noel Lee, Jay Gottlieb, and Régis Pasquier join the Conser- vatoire’s faculty. A Timeline of the Conservatoire � 193 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 193 06-549_z02_AppA.qxd 10/30/06 6:44 AM Page 194 A P P E N D I X B � Curriculum Offered at the Conservatoire Américain All courses of study were offered in both private lesson and group class formats. Accompaniment: 1921–1939, 1947–present Analysis: 1921–1939, 1942–1945, 1947–present (later included in “Musi- cal Language”) Bassoon: 1984–1993 Cello: 1921–1939, 1948–present Chamber music: 1921–present Chromatic harp: 1921–1924 Clarinet: 1949–1993 Composition: 1921–1939, 1947–present Conducting: 1921–1939, 1947–1993 Counterpoint: 1921–1939, 1946–present (later included in “Musical Lan- guage”) Diction: 1921–1924 Flute: 1953–1993 Fugue: 1921–present (later included in “Musical Language”) Guitar: 1984–1985 Harmony: 1921–present (later included in “Musical Language”) History: 1921–1939 Horn: 1984–1993 Instruments anciens (harpsichord): 1921–1925 Musical Language: 1921–present 195 06-549_z03_AppB.qxd 10/30/06 7:12 AM Page 195 Oboe: 1984–1993 Opera: 1921–1926 Opera staging: 1923–1925 Organ: 1921–1939, 1947–1979 Pedagogy: 1921–1939 Pedal harp: 1921–1939, 1953, 1984 Phonetics: 1921–1924 Piano: 1921–present Saxophone: 1962, 1965 Sight-Reading: 1921–present (later included in “Musical Language”) Solfège: 1921–present (later included in “Musical Language”) Transposition: 1921–present (later included in “Musical Language”) Viola: 1921–1939, 1948–present Violin: 1921–1939, 1947–present Voice: 1921–1939, 1948–1985 196 � Appendix B 06-549_z03_AppB.qxd 10/30/06 7:12 AM Page 196 A P P E N D I X C � Directors of the Conservatoire Américain Directors Directors—called residential directors in the school’s early years—oversaw the day-to-day operations of the Conservatoire and taught classes and les- sons, reporting to the Conseil d’Administration and the American Council. 1921–1922 Francis Casadesus 1922 Max d’Ollone 1923–1939 Camille Decreus 1939–1946 officially vacant; in practice Gaby and Robert Casadesus 1946–1949 Robert Casadesus 1949–1979 Nadia Boulanger 1979–1987 Narcis Bonet 1987–1993 Jean-Pierre Marty 1994–present Philippe Entremont Directors General/Presidents of the Conseil Directors General—a role later primarily assumed by the President of the Conseil d’Administration—oversaw the operations of both the Conservatoire and the École des Beaux-Arts, the Conservatoire’s sister-school in architecture and the fine arts. 1921–1934 Charles-Marie Widor 1934–1937 Maurice Ravel 197 06-549_z04_AppC.qxd 10/30/06 6:45 AM Page 197 1937–1939 Camille Decreus 1939–1946 officially vacant; in practice Gaby and Robert Casadesus and Walter Damrosch 1947–1954 Marcel Dupré 1954–1992 François Valéry (President of the Conseil) 1992–1994 Jean-Charles de Moustier (President of the Conseil) 1994–present Pierre Boyer (President of the Conseil) 198 � Appendix C 06-549_z04_AppC.qxd 10/30/06 6:45 AM Page 198 A P P E N D I X D � Selected Professors of the Conservatoire Américain Byron Adams, analysis Pierre Amoyal, violin André Asselin, violin Dalton Baldwin, accompaniment Jean Battala, piano André Bauchy, saxophone Paul Bazelaire, cello Norman Beedie, accompaniment Pierre Bernac, voice Hatto Beyerle, viola Philippe Bianconi, piano André Bloch, composition Patrice Bocquillon, flute, chamber music Narcis Bonet, Director of Conservatoire, 1979–1987; analysis, composi- tion, accompaniment, orchestra André Boucourechiliev, composition Nadia Boulanger, Director of Conservatoire, 1949–1979; harmony, com- position, solfège, piano, organ, conducting Lucien Capet, violin Francis Casadesus, Founder of Conservatoire; Director of Conservatoire, 1921; piano, chamber music Gaby Casadesus, piano Jean Casadesus, piano 199 06-549_z05_AppD.qxd 10/30/06 6:47 AM Page 199 Mrs. M. L. Henri Casadesus, chromatic harp Robert Casadesus, Director of Conservatoire, 1946–1948; piano Robert Casadesus Sr., diction Suzanne Cesbron-Viseur, voice Marcel Chadeigne, opera coaching Alain Chantaraud, clarinet Olivier Charlier, violin Hélène Chaumont, piano Patrice Chéreau, opera staging Pierre Chéreau, opera staging André Chevalet, oboe Yvan Chiffoleau, cello Hughes Cuenod, voice Max d’Ollone, Director of Conservatoire, 1922 Camille Decreus, Director of Conservatoire, 1923–1939; Director Gen- eral, 1937–1939; piano, composition Daniel Deffayet, saxophone Marcelle Demougeot, voice Annette Dieudonné, harmony, solfège Carlos Dourthé, cello Isabelle Duha, analysis, sight-reading, harmony, solfège Arnaud Dumond, guitar Marcel Dupré, Director General, 1947–1954; organ Henri Dutilleux, composition Philippe Entremont, Director of Conservatoire, 1993–present; piano Rolande Falcinelli, organ Paul Fauchet, piano, accompaniment Renaud Fontanarosa, cello Jean Françaix, composition Pascal Gallois, bassoon André Gantiez, horn Alice Gaultier Léon, piano Maurice Gendron, cello Shirley Givens, violin Antoine Goulard, violin Marcel Grandjany, pedal harp Gabriel Grandmaison, bassoon Bertrand Grenat, oboe Louis Gromer, oboe André Hekking, cello 200 � Appendix D 06-549_z05_AppD.qxd 10/30/06 6:47 AM Page 200 Marcelle Herrenschmidt, piano A. Landély Hettich, voice Maurice Hewitt, violin Gilles Honorat, clarinet Maurice Husson, viola Marie-Claire Jamet, harp Pierre Jamet, harp Marcel Jean, flute Irène Joachim, voice Betsy Jolas, composition Genevieve Joy-Dutilleux, piano Christian Larde, flute Frédéric Laroque, violin Gilberte Lecompte, voice, sight-reading Noel Lee, piano Renée Lenars, harp Pierre Lenert, viola Robert Levin, analysis, chamber music, solfège Henri Libert, organ Félia Litvinne, voice Tamara Lubimova, child pedagogy applied to the teaching of music Beverly Lunt, violin Dmitry Markevitch, cello Germaine Martinelli, voice Louis Martinelli, solfège Jean-Pierre Marty, Director of Conservatoire, 1986–1993; piano, chamber music Georges Mauguiere, voice Jens McManama, horn Yehudi Menuhin, violin Dominique Merlet, piano Jean Morel, piano Ferdinand Motte Lacroix, piano Tristan Murail, composition Lucien Muratore, voice André Musset, flute Emile Naoumoff, analysis, solfège, vocal ensemble Yfrah Neaman, violin Raphaël Oleg, violin Jean Painchaud, piano Selected Professors of the Conservatoire Américain � 201 06-549_z05_AppD.qxd 10/30/06 6:47 AM Page 201 Charles Panzera, voice Stéphane Part, oboe André Pascal, violin Jean Pasquier,violin Nelly Pasquier, cello Pierre Pasquier, viola, chamber music Didier Pateau, oboe Isidor Philipp, piano Jacques Pillois, history, diction Marthe Pillois, diction Francis Poulenc, composition Gaston Poulet, violin Gerard Poulet, violin Mathilde Radisse, piano Maurice Ravel, Director General, 1934–1937 Guillaume Remy, violin Hilda Roosevelt-Arosa, voice Helda Rosewald, piano Thomas Salignac, opera Paul Silva Hérard, piano Herre-Jan Stegenga, violoncello Diane Stuart, voice Henryk Szering, violin Louise Talma, analysis, solfège Paul Vidal, composition Maurice Vieux, viola Georges Viseur, voice Charles-Marie Widor, Director General, 1921–1934, organ Colette Wilkens-Jousse, solfège Albert Wolfe, orchestral conducting Richard Wolfe, viola 202 � Appendix D 06-549_z05_AppD.qxd 10/30/06 6:47 AM Page 202 A P P E N D I X E � Selected Guest Artists at the Conservatoire Américain Guest artists usually performed with faculty members and offered a master class for students. Pierre Bernac, voice Leonard Bernstein, conducting Idil Biret, piano Doda Conrad, voice Aaron Copland, composition Clifford Curzon, piano Henri Dutilleux, composition Leon Fleisher, piano Pierre Fournier, cello Jean Françaix, composition Zino Francescatti, violin Peter Frankl, piano Kenneth Gordon, violin Claude Helfer, piano Maurice Jacquemont, stage direction Grant Johannesen, piano Genevieve Joy, piano Robert Levin, piano Nikita Magaloff, piano André Marchal, organ 203 06-549_z06_AppE.qxd 10/30/06 6:48 AM Page 203 Maurice Marechal, cello Yehudi Menuhin, violin Darius Milhaud, composition Florica Musicesco, piano Emile Naoumoff, piano Yfrah Neaman, violin Daniel Pinkham, composition Francis Poulenc, composition Janet Price, voice Rafael Puyana, harpsichord Jean-Pierre Rampal, flute Gérard Souzay, voice Michal Spisak, composition and piano Igor Stravinsky, composition Soulima Stravinsky, piano Blanche Tarjus, violin Christine Whittlesey, voice Narciso Yepes, composition 204 � Appendix E 06-549_z06_AppE.qxd 10/30/06 6:48 AM Page 204 A P P E N D I X F � Selected Notable Students of the Conservatoire Américain June Anderson, voice, 1972 George Antheil, composition, 1924 Romeo Arsenault, violin, 1935–1939 Stanley Avery, composition, 1921 Seymour Bernstein, piano, 1953 Idil Biret, piano, 1952 Frank Brieff, conducting, 1930–1932 Douglas Buys, piano, 1969, 1972–1973 Maria Pia Cafagna, voice, 1925 Don Campbell, composition, 1960–1961 Hector Campos-Parsi, composition, 1953 Elliott Carter, composition, 1921–1924 Samuel Caviezel, clarinet, 1993 Genevieve Chinn, composition, 1953 Bathia Churgin, analysis, piano, 1950–1951 Kenton Coe, composition, 1953 Leland Coon, composition, 1922 Aaron Copland, composition, 1921 Robert Crawford, voice, 1924–1926 Margaret DeGraff Herron, harp, 1927 Dorothy DeVal, analysis, 1976 David Diamond, composition, 1937 Samuel Dilworth-Leslie, piano, 1961–1962, 1964, 1974 205 06-549_z07_AppF.qxd 10/30/06 6:49 AM Page 205 Pierre Djokic, cello, 1969–1970 Dorothy Duckwitz Searle, piano, 1931 Yvonne DuPeyron, voice, 1933–1934 David Dushkin, piano, 1924–1926 Walter Edelstein, violin, 1926, 1929 Zo Elliott, composition, 1921 Herbert Elwell, composition, 1921 Emma Endres, piano, 1937–1938 Stuart Fastofsky, violin, 1950 Joel Feigin, composition, 1972, 1974–1976 John Ferrante, voice, 1951 Rock Ferris, piano, 1926–1927 Suzanne Fisher, voice, 1932 Susan Forscher Weiss, cello, piano, harmony, 1962 Arthur Frackenpohl, piano, 1950 Malcolm Frager, piano, 1952 Pamela Frank, violin, 1982 Virginia French Mackie, composition, 1933 Nina Geverts, violin, 1955 Jay Gottlieb, piano, 1967, 1969–1971 Ariel Gross (Louise Lyon), piano, 1924–1925 Felix Guerrero, composition, 1952 Anita Hankwitz Kastner, piano, 1930 James Harrison, analysis, piano, 1960–1961 Helen Hosmer, piano, 1925 Grant Johannesen, piano, 1947 Quincy Jones, composition, 1957 Roger Kamien, composition, 1952 Harrison Kerr, composition, 1921 John Kirkpatrick, piano, 1925–1928 Sashka Korzenska, violin, 1993 Stefan Kozinski, piano, organ, composition, 1969, 1975 Charles Kullman, voice, 1926–1927 Hannah Lefkowitz, piano, 1928 Leonard Lehrman, composition, 1969 Robert Levin, piano, composition, 1960–1964 Tasmin Little, violin, 1978 Barbara Lull Rahm, violin, 1926–1927 Antonio Lysy, cello, 1978 Quinto Maganini, composition, 1925–1927 206 � Appendix F 06-549_z07_AppF.qxd 10/30/06 6:49 AM Page 206 Ozen Marsh, piano, 1938 Katherine McClintock Ellis, piano, 1924–1925 Colin McPhee, composition, 1924 Jeremy Menuhin, violin, 1967, 1971 Krzysztof Meyer, composition, 1964, 1966 James Ming, composition, 1960 David Montagu, violin, 1950 Maria Montana, voice, 1925 Dorothy Rudd Moore, composition, 1963 Kermit Moore, cello, 1953, 1957 Emile Naoumoff, piano, 1970–1979 Rosine Nocera, piano, 1951–1952 Juliana Osinchuk, piano, 1964–1966, 1968, 1971 Esther Ostroff, piano, 1930, 1932 Florin Parvulescu, violin, 1983 Julia Perry, composition, 1952 Viola Peters, piano, 1921,1925, 1930–1932 Joseph Plon, piano, 1955 Max Polikoff, violin, 1928 Victor Prahl, voice, 1921, 1924, 1926–1927 Charles Premmac, voice, 1924, 1925 Marguerite Quarles, piano, violin, 1930, 1932 Virginia Quarles, cello, 1930, 1932 Clara Rabinowitch, piano, 1924–1925 Rose Resnick, piano, 1928 Harold Richey, piano, 1924–1925 Charles Rosen, piano, 1942 Samuel Sanders, piano, ensemble, 1965 Yuko Satoh, analysis, piano, 1972, 1974–1976, 1978 Andre-Michel Schub, piano, 1964 Anna Mae Sharp, violin, 1924 Yung Shen, piano, 1962–1966 Guelda Sherman, cello, 1953 Florence Stage, piano, 1926, 1927 Barbara Stein Mallow, harmony, piano, 1952 Reginald Stewart, conducting, 1929, 1932 Wendy Sutter, cello, 1983 Gizi Szanto, piano, 1931 Louise Talma, composition, 1926–1929, 1931, 1933–1934, 1951, 1964, 1969, 1971–1972, 1976 Selected Notable Students of the Conservatoire Américain � 207 06-549_z07_AppF.qxd 10/30/06 6:49 AM Page 207 Augusta Read Thomas, composition, 1985 Ethel Thurston, solfège, 1930 Manuel Villet, piano, 1954 Luise Vosgerchian, piano, 1952 Dalit Warshaw, composition, 1996, 1999 Beveridge Webster, piano, 1922–1925 Frederick Werle, composition, 1937 Colette Wilkins, piano, solfège, 1976 Jerry Wong, piano, 1998 Shih-Yu Wong, piano, 1998 Charles Wuorinen, composition, 1961 Hadley Yates, composition, 1950 Christopher Zimmerman, piano, 1978 Princess Irene of Greece, piano, harmony, 1969 Princess Ululani of Hawai’i, harmony, 1932 208 � Appendix F 06-549_z07_AppF.qxd 10/30/06 6:49 AM Page 208 A P P E N D I X G � Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain Diplomas were sometimes issued with conditional modifiers. The designation of degré preparatoire, degré elementaire, or degré moyen meant that a student had prepared easier pieces than his or her peers and had not been awarded a full diploma, but was recognized for performance of those works and was en- couraged to return for further study. Honors were indicated by mention bien and mention très bien. Diplomas could also be issued without comments of ei- ther type. Not all areas issued diplomas in performance or teaching each year. Since the 1980s, diplomas have been issued to all students, indicating only their attendance at the school. Awards such as the Prix Ravel and Prix de Ville de Fontainebleau have also been given sporadically without competitions, and the records are not extant. Competitions were held irregularly throughout the history of the Conser- vatoire. Juries had the discretion to omit or add levels of recognition as they saw fit. During the 1950s, prize terms were changed from the previously used English “first, second, third prize,” to the French hierarchy of premier prix, deuxieme prix, and so on, also allowing for premier accessite, an equivalent of “runner-up.” Near-countless other designations were handed out, even going to the level of “second third (honorable) mention.” The shadings between some of these levels may seem minute to today’s readers, but scholarships and other prize money often hung in the balance. Jury members are listed where available, as are monetary prize amounts and other details. Areas of study are listed in alphabetical order. Students are listed in al- phabetical order using the names under which they registered (i.e., Bathia 209 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 209 Churgin is listed as Betty Churgin). Full names have been given as much as records permit. 1925 Cello Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Oliver Edel, mention bien Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Albert Coleman, mention bien Lawerence Cook, mention bien Emily Boekell Margaret Funkhouser Herbert Irvine Charles Marsh Hugh McAmis Mrs. McGinley, mention bien Alexander Schreiner, mention très bien Louise Titcomb Homer Witford Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Albert Coleman Charles Marsh Edward Mead Max Miranda, degré preparatoire Alexander Schreiner Louise Titcomb Pedagogy (General Music Education) Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Robert Crawford David Dushkin Charles Hennedy Freeman Franklin Launer Hugh McAmis Mildred Meehan, degré preparatoire Frances Morgan, degré preparatoire 210 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 210 Leah Mynderse Gerard Reynolds Adrienne Sullivan Hess Wagner, degré preparatoire Elisabeth Webster, mention bien William Wentzell Gertrude Williamson, degré preparatoire Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Josephine Brown Helen Ganhowsha Ariel Gross (Louise Lyon), degré preparatoire Caroline Gray Frances C. Hall, mention bien Russel B. Howe Lucile Jolly, degré preparatoire Edith Kimple Willard MacGregor, mention bien Jane Peek Clara Rabinowitch, mention bien Harold Richey Etta Schmid, degré preparatoire Beatrice Swartz, mention bien Beveridge Webster, mention très bien Elisabeth Webster Ferguson Webster, degré preparatoire Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Helen Bahn Helen Caples, degré preparatoire Jessie Crenshaw John Starts Evans Louise Findlay Constance Graham, mention bien Ariel Gross (Louise Lyon) Alice Hanson Winifred Hughes, mention bien Lucile Jolly, mention bien Beatrice Jones Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 211 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 211 Dorothy Leavitt Sarah MacDonald Catherine Ellis McClintock Max Miranda, degré preparatoire Hermine Montagne Olivia Noël Dorothy Okey, degré preparatoire Parie Petty Clara Rabinowitch, mention bien Etta Schmid Burnyce Stevens Edith Woodcock, mention bien Bertha Weber Thetis Westcott Irma de Villers Solfège Harriet Alford Marion Boulette Helen Broadwell Deborah Brown Violet Cassack Rosalie Edge Florence Fraser Dorothy Gerry Helen Hosmer Eleanor Meredith Marie Neubeiser Gray Perry Mildred Seaman Henri Stewart H. P. Sturges Maud Wanzer Mary Williams Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Mark Chestney Gordon Groth Rese Underwood 212 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 212 Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Mark Chestney, mention bien Gordon Groth Francis Morgan, degré preparatoire Gertrude Bowes Peabody Arthur Talmadge Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Gladys Burns Grace Farrar Helen Harrison John Parrish Charles Premmac Burnyce Stevens, degré preparatoire Helen White Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Richmond Gardner Muriel Izzard John Parrish Charles Premmac Zelia Vaissade 1926 Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Adelaide Lee Elmer A. Tidmarsh Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Walter Angell Elmer Tidmarsh Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Julia Amolsky Veronique Bakowska Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 213 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 213 Violet Cassack, mention bien Mary R. Clifford Claire Crawford Florence Fraser, mention bien Irene Jones, mention bien Merle MacCarthy West Margaret Malowney, mention bien Sonya Mints Mara Molenar Margaret Morrison Oliver Reardon Lillian Roseland Sister Cecelia Schwab Hedy Spielter Mae E. Swanscott Louise Talma, mention bien Margaret Walsh Ferguson Webster, mention bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Violet Cassack Mary R. Clifford Kathryn Cole, mention bien Marjorie Galloway Sister Cecelia Schwab, mention bien Merle MacCarty West Margaret Malowney Hazel Martin Oliver Reardon Lillian Roseland Mae Swancott Margaret Walsh Solfège Veronique Bakowska Verna Brachinreev Kathryn Cole Margaret Ferris Eleanor Herring 214 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 214 Lurine Myrtle Karon Giuseppe de Lellis Hazel Martin Louise Mercer Margaret Morrison Helen Richards Sister Cecelia Schwab Esther Shaier Louise Williams Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Mabel Deegan, mention bien Eva Geisinger, mention bien Eleanor Herring Walter Edelstein, mention bien François Hurley Uzes Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Eva Geisinger Walter Edelstein Lennie Lusby François Hurley Uzes Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Florence Beresford Marion Capps Thamzine Cox, mention bien Marion Strouse Loretta Yates Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Florence Beresford Thamzine Cox Marion Pickles Leroy Weil Loretta Yates Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 215 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 215 1927 Composition Prix Tremaine First Prize: Helen Roessing Second Prize: Hedy Spielter Third Prize: Margaret Kenney Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Ruth Barrett Robert Cato, mention très bien Margaret Dow Irene Jones Vera Kitchner Talbot G. Lowe Wilbur Rowand Pearl Wolpert Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Margaret Dow Wilbur Rowand Piano Prix Erard Fergusson Webster Prix Pleyel Louise Talma Prix Chickering Florence Stage and Sidney Sukoening Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Inez Bringgold Erwin Connell Lucia Francisco Horace Greenberg 216 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 216 Maurice Katz John Kirkpatrick Giuseppe de Lellis Helen Moore, mention très bien Sidney Sukoening Gladys Olson Helen Parrot Kathleen Schofeld Telesphore Severault Florence Stage, mention très bien Mildred Warner, mention bien Ada Zeller, mention bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Erwin Connell, mention bien Fidelia Burgess Duncan, mention bien Eleanor Fourtin Lucia Francisco, mention bien Helen Parrot Mae Herbert Nell Johnson Albert Lafon Catherine Margeson, mention bien Helen Moore, mention bien Gladys Olson, mention bien Myrtle Roberts Kathleen Schofeld Mildred Warner Ada Zeller, mention bien Solfège Teaching Inez Bringgold Frederic Cardin Lillian Fish Eleanor Fourtin Lucia Francisco Mae Herbers Frances Hipple Charles Kullmann Catherine Margeson Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 217 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 217 Clifford McAvoy Wilma Nobiling Myrtle Roberts Mildred Warner Ada Zeller Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Frederic Cardin Paul Rosenblum Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Harriet Alford Clara Berovitz Paul Rosenblum H. Pemberton Sturges Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Louise Belcher, mention bien Richard Condie, mention très bien Constance King, mention bien Charles Kullmann, mention très bien Josephine Martin, mention très bien Vilma Nobiling Helena Yngre Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Louise Belcher Richard Condie Lillian Fish Eva Gary Winifred Hopkins Charles Kullmann Eva Lawrence Lucile Morley, mention bien Vilma Nobiling Helena Yngre 218 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 218 1928 Cello Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Irene Hubbard Milton Prinz, mention bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Irene Hubbard Carol Niles Milton Prinz, mention bien Organ Prix Presser et Durand First Prize, 1,200 francs: Catherine Morgan Second Prize, 800 francs: Janet Maria Clayton Third Prize, 500 francs: Harold Schwab Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Marion Clayton, mention bien Harold Schwab Robert Gould John Groth Helen Henshaw Charlotte Linsch Catherine Morgan, mention très bien Barbara Singer MarionVan Lien Ellen Waite Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Catherine Morgan Harold Schwab Gearle Porter Weikel Piano Concours Presser-Erard Jury: Auguste de Radwan, President; Marcel Dupré; Jean Batalla; Paul Baze- laire; Marcel Grandjany Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 219 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 219 First Prize, 2,000 francs (unanimous): Louise Carpenter Second Prize, 1,000 francs: Joseph Machlis, Hannah Lefkowitz Third Prize, 750 francs: Louise Talma Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Louise Carpenter Elizabeth Coots Leola Fairchild William Field Alice Vernice Gay Cassius Jolley Willie Morris Ellen Waite Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Lillian Brunett Louise Carpenter Irma Combs Elizabeth Coots Leopoldine Damrosch William Field Rose Resnick Alfred Masonheimer Solfège Jacqueline Tyler Bickford Guy Booth Leola Fairchild James A. Gibb Robert B Gould Lucy D. Kolp Kathleen Schofeld Lois Reed MacLure Kathleen McKitrick Hazel Martin Willie Morris Martha Richardson Marjorie Smith 220 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 220 Violin Prix Theodore Presser First Prize, 1,200 francs: Max Weiser Second Prize, 800 francs: Milton Feher Third Prize, 500 francs: Romeo Tata Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Milton Feher, mention bien Romeo Tata Max Weiser, mention bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Milton Feher Richard Orton K. E. Powers Helen Richards Romeo Tata Max Weiser Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Hilda Berkey Janet Creighton Wesley Howard Blanche de la Fontaine Scott Georges Magis Rhea Massicotte Louise McIlvain William Clegg Monroe Geraldine Nolan Eugene Ramey Gertrude Schwentker Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Blanche de la Fontaine Scott Georges Magis Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 221 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 221 1929 Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Joseph Black Madeleine Ernich George Faulkner Raymond Hicks Edward W. Jenkins Madelon Maclary Herman Ostheimer Ford Saunders Herman F. Siewart Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Raymond Hicks Piano Prix Steinway-Erard-Tremaine Jury: Henri Chantavoine, President; Guillaume Remy, Marcel Dupré, Marcel Grandjany, Paul Bazelaire, Jeanne Michèle Charbonet, Nathalie Radisse First Prize: Marian Kalayjian Second Prize: Ruth Webb Third Prize: Jean Kaplan and Juliette Mirova Fourth Prize: Oliver Koa and Florence Fraser Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Josephine Carolin Ocy Downs Margaret Haskins Ada Hershfield Herbert Irvine Louise Jackson Marian Kalayjian Jean Kaplan Oliver Koa Clare Little Dorothy Maerklein 222 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 222 Theodore Schaefer Katherin Snowden Ruth Webb Hermine Weisner Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Alma Faust Jeanes Helworth Muriel Howard Clare Little Edythe Logan Charles Maclary Katherin Robertson Louise Jackson Solfège Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Alfred Finch Ada Hershfield Jean Kaplan Helen Kelly Eugenia Lichtfield Clara Little Eleanor Mims Catherine Snowden Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Edward Powers Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Helen Kelly Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Donald MacGill Louise Rock Marceil Schwartz Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 223 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 223 Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Florence Babcock Jacqueline Tyler Bickford Alfred Finch Donald MacGill May Mason Speed Elsie M. McDowell 1930 Cello Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Joy Loomis Virginia Quarles, mention bien Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Mary Duncan Burton Lawrence Eleanor Palmer Rachel Pierce Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Mary Duncan Burton Lawrence Rachel Pierce Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Leah Brown, mention bien Ethel Flentye, mention bien Jeannette Giguere, mention bien Anita Hankwitz Suzanne Hotkine Esther Ostriff Muriel Parker, mention bien Alice Quarles, mention bien Mary Robinson 224 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 224 Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Mildred Bickett Leah Brown Ethel Flentye Olive Frost, mention bien Anita Hankwitz Cecile Hindeman Louise Hoffer Suzanne Hotkine Virginia Mountser Olga Norgreen Esther Ostroff Mary Robinson Elyse Rushford Agnes Steadman Mary Stewart Beatrice Ward, mention bien Solfège Ethel Flentye Dorothy Frink, mention bien Anita Hankwitz, mention bien Cecile Hindeman Louise Hoffer Suzanne Hotkine Leonard Langlois Marjorie Legge Virginia Mountser Esther Ostroff Eleanor Palmer John Edward Ronan Ethel Thurston Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Frank Brieff, mention bien Arthur Brown Leonard Langlois Margaret Quarles, mention bien Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 225 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 225 Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Arthur Brown Leonard Langlois Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Harry Blank Alfred Finch Mrs. Frank Hankinson Ruby Heritage Lucile Morley Martha Doehler Overstreet Florence Poling Julia Strelitz Florence Wilson Elizabeth Young Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Yvette Attinson Harry Blank Mrs. Frank Hankinson Ruby Heritage Martha Overstreet Elyse Rushford 1931 Cello Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Bernard Barron Alice Wechtell Solfège Myra Conlon Mary Ruth Edwards Betty Lasley Virginia McCarthy Sibyl Nichols 226 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 226 Dorothy Ruskin Gizi Szanto Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Maria Conlon Ruth Edwards Grace Emery Evelyn Hansen Walter Hinkle Betty Leasley Virginia McCarthy Frances Moyer Sibyl Nichols Grace Rabinowitch Gizi Szanto Marie Van Brock Harry Wilson Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Ruth Edwards Grace Emery Bertha Feitner Evelyn Hausen Walter Hinkle Virginia McCarthy Frances Moyer Mary Patterson Grace Rabinowitch Gizi Szanto, mention très bien Marie Van Brock, mention bien Edith Van Buskirk Harry Wilson Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Sidney Greenstein Denny Hannan, mention bien Katherine Lincoln Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 227 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 227 Winifred Marie Meyer Michaël Ostrowsky Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Frank Brieff Sidney Greenstein Denny Hannan Katherine Lincoln Winifred Marie Meyer Michaël Ostrowsky Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Alice Bogardus, mention bien Thorald Croasdale Mollie Gould Isabelle Jones Margherita Kuppersmith Geraldine Marwick, mention bien Cecil Mitchell Roland Partridge, mention bien Marjorie Schobel, mention bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Frieda Behrens Alice Bogardus Roland Partridge Marion Ross Clet T. Silvey 1932 Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Newell Guillan Harold Raymond Thompson 228 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 228 Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Harold Raymond Thompson Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Lillian Brunett Catherine McClintock Ellis Gladys Heath Sophia Jaffe Florence Koletzke Gertrude Noll Carl Parrish Alice Payne Beatrice Plummer Louise Trebika Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Eloise Beinert Louise Trebicka Alice Gayne Gladys Heath Sophia Jaffe Florence Koletzke Gertrude Noll Beatrice Plummer Dorothy Rediker Piano Accompaniment Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Editha Messer Solfège Howard Abell Carl Parrish, mention très bien Gertrude Noll Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 229 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 229 Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Simone Beck Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Alice Mary Anderson Helen Chapin Edna Haddock Helen Marshall Aletha Stacey Louise Burt Wood Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Marjorie Schobel Louisa Burt Wood 1933 Harmony Virginia Mackie Louise Talma Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Ralph Davis Robert Hufstader Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Lela Hardy Polly Johnson Juliette Rodrigue Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Lela Hardy Polly Johnson 230 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 230 Solfège Margery Dykes Robert Hufstader, mention très bien Virginia Mackie, mention très bien Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Minna Willener Frances Woodbury, mention bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Frances Woodbury Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Jeannette Booth Katherine Metcalf, mention bien Madeleine de Morsier Harold Peterson Eugene Riese Evelyn Sprager Rhea Webb Helen Wilson Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Katherine Metcalf Helen Wilson 1934 Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Edgar Groth Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Cinabelle Burzinsky Lucy Clark Marion Swan Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 231 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 231 Solfège Marion Swan Frances Woodbury Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Lucy Clark Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Anne Dyer 1935 Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) David Berger, mention bien Edward Mead Ruth Stockwell Melville, mention bien Marcus Naylor, mention très bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) David Berger, mention bien Ruth Stockwell Melville, mention très bien Marcus Naylor Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Romeo Arsenault Juan Nazarian Mary Van Valkenburg, mention bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Alexandra Grow, mention bien Juan Nazarian, mention très bien Mary Van Valkenburg, mention très bien 232 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 232 Solfège Ruth Melville Mary Van Valkenburg, mention très bien 1936 Harp Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Helen Higgins Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Lucile Hammill Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Lucile Hammill Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Reginald Bedford, mention bien Vesta Case Corinne Frederick, mention très bien Irene Graffuis Margaret Rosenfeldt Sarah Supplee Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Vesta Case Irene Graffuis Sarane Ives Margaret Rosenfeldt Lucia Simmons Sarah Supplee Solfège William M. Eves Elizabeth Fretz Lucile Hammill Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 233 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 233 John Donald Robb Lucia Simmons Sarah Supplee Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Edison Harris Otis Holley Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) A. S. Ebersole Annie Laura Tronsdale 1937 Cello Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Enrico Tamburini Composition Prix Stovall Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Marcelle de Manziarly, Annette Dieudonné, Roger Ducasse, Jean Françaix, Lennox Berkeley, Herbert Elwell, Boleslaw Wojtwicz First Prize: none awarded Second Prize, 1,000 francs: Livingston Gearhart Mentions, 333 francs each: Andrew Imbrie, Floyd Morgernstern, Frederick Werle Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Dora Poteet Cornelius Van Rees Margaret Work Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Dora Poteet Margaret Work 234 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 234 Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Angela Annicharieo Romeo Arsenault Virginia Clotfelter, mention bien Emma Endes, mention très bien William Eves Margaret Ferguson Rita Gagen, mention bien Helene Landry Irene Leftwich, mention bien Marjorie Lohmann Ann McDougle Bessie Scharff Frederick Werle Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Virginia Clotfelter Ocy Downs Ann Katzenstein Irene Leftwich Marjorie Lohman Maryetta Roop Katherine Schaefer Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Josephine Case Charles Davis Mildred Jenkins Lucia Simmons Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Charles Davis 1938 Cello Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Louise Wingold, mention bien Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 235 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 235 Chansons regionales (Folk song) Germaine Arosa Composition Prix Stovall Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Igor Stravinsky First Prize, 1,300 francs: Louise Talma Mention, 400 francs: Louis O. Palmer II Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Clifford C. Loomis Margaret McPherson Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Margaret McPherson Ethel Thurston Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Murray Baylor Jane Boedcker Elwood Kraft Leo Lawless Emmanuelina Lizzuto Frances Loftus Ruth McLinn, mention bien Mary Shep Mann Ozanne Marsh, mention très bien Bertha Melnik, mention bien J. B. Middleton Aloysio de Alenear Pinto, mention très bien Jean Seybold Della Wilson Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Jane Cleveland, degré elementaire Frances Loftus 236 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 236 Mary Shep Mann Sarah Marvin Goodrich White, degré elementaire Solfège Harvey F. Armington Bertha Melnik Ethel Thurston Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Zoya Maximoff William Stone, mention très bien Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Jane Rogers 1939 Cello Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Marie-Therese Gosset Pierre Delvincourt Composition Prix Stovall First Prize (award amount unknown): Louise Talma Second Prize, 1,000 francs: Cecil Effinger Third Prize, 500 francs each: Ali Fenmen, Albert Fillmore Organ Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Alice Clement Sally Marion Louise Talma Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 237 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 237 Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Alice Clement Laurence Dilsner Louise Talma Piano Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Cedric Chase Jr. Margaret Colson, mention bien Irene Heindl Marion Louise King Lydia Lesta Louise Mardiras, mention très bien Elizabeth Powell Constance Russell, mention bien Nathalie Tuttle, mention bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Ruth Grace, degré moyen Perle Mumma, mention bien Robert Parsons, mention bien Elizabeth Powell Constance Russell Solfège Elizabeth Powell Violin Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Frances Shapiro, mention très bien Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Margaret Sweeney Voice Diplome d’Execution (Performance) Evelyn Gibson Joanne de Nault 238 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 238 Ruth Murray Harry Thomson Diplome d’Aptitude à l’Enseignement (Teaching) Evelyn Gibson Joanne de Nault Ruth Murray Harry Thomson 1946 Scholarships for the Service of Cultural Relations, 8,000 Francs Each Anne de Ramus Lydia Ryvicher 1947 Piano Prizes First Prize, 10,000 francs: Deene Reece Second Prize, 5,000 francs: Grant Johannesen Scholarships for the Service of Cultural Relations, 4,000 Francs Each Anne de Ramus Lydia Ryvicher 1950 Concours de Composition Jury: Marcel Dupré, Paul Bazelaire, Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Rolande Falcinelli, Paul Fievet, Jean Françaix, Marcel Jean, Roland Manuel, Nicholas Nabokoff, Leo Preger, Michael Spisak, Antoni Szalowski Premier Prix, 3,000 francs each: Arthur Frackenpohl (Prix Deane Reese), Robert Moevs (Prix Lili Boulanger) Premier Accessite: Allyn Ferguson, Norman Voelker Deuxieme Accessite: Alfred Pew Brooks Concours de Chant Jury: Marcel Dupré, Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Rolande Fal- cinelli, Paul Fievet, Jean Françaix, Marcel Jean, Germaine Martinelli, Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 239 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 239 Roland Manuel, Nicholas Nabokoff, Leo Preger, Michael Spisak, Antoni Szalowski Premier Prix (Prix Martinelli): Iris Fribrock, Wilbur Jones Premier Accessite: Isabelle McClung, Donna Precht Concours de Clarinette Jury: Marcel Dupré, Paul Bazelaire, Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Rolande Falcinelli, Paul Fievet, Jean Françaix, Marcel Jean, Roland Manuel, Nicholas Nabokoff, Leo Preger, Michael Spisak, Antoni Szalowski Premier Prix (Prix Gaston Hamelin) (unanimous), 3,000 francs: Ernest Bright Premier Accessite (unanimous): Albert Fine Concours de Déchiffrage Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Alice Gaultier Léon, Mademoi- selle Spycket, Jean Painchaud Premiere Mention: Norman Voelker Deuxieme Mention: James Lotze, Judith Yaeger Troisième Mention: Richard Strasburg Concours d’Ensemble Instrumental Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Paul Bazelaire, Paul Fievet, M. Henry, Alice Gaultier Léon, M. Merckel, Jean Painchaud, Pierre Pasquier Premier Prix: David Montagu, Norman Voelker Deuxieme Prix: Ernest Bright, Betty Churgin, Stuart Fastofsky, Norman Voelker, J. Yaeger Premier Accessite: Betty Churgin, Roy Christophersen, David Montagu, Calvin Sieb, R. Strasburg, Norman Voelker, Elton Young Deuxieme Accessite: Betty Churgin, Ann Estill, Albert Fine, James Lotze Concours d’Orgue Jury: Marcel Dupré, Paul Bazelaire, Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Rolande Falcinelli, Paul Fievet, Jean Françaix, Marcel Jean, Roland Manuel, Nicholas Nabokoff, Leo Preger, Michael Spisak, Antoni Szalowski Premier Prix, 3,000 francs: Robert Wolff Deuxieme Prix: Thomas Brumby, David Hewlett, Augustine Plamondon 240 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 240 Concours de Piano Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Robert Casadesus, Alice Gaultier Léon, Paul Baze- laire, Annette Dieudonné, Henri Dutilleux, Rolande Falcinelli, Genevieve Joy, Gilberte Lecompte, Jean Painchaud Premier Prix, Prix Robert Casadesus, 3,000 francs: Norman Voelker Deuxieme Prix: Richard Strasburg, Judith Yaeger Premier Accessite: Hadley Yates Deuxieme Accessite: Vada Easter Concours de Solfège Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Alice Gaultier Léon, Mademoi- selle Spycket, Jean Painchaud Degré Elementaire, Premiere Mentions: Jo Anne Barr, David Hewlett Degré Elementaire, Deuxieme Mention: Donna Precht Degré Moyen, Premiere Mention: Allyn Ferguson Degré Moyen, Deuxieme Mention: Linda Muschenheim Degré Moyen, Troisième Mention: Elsie Kohlenstein Troisième Degré, Premiere Mention: Arthur Frackenpohl, Charles Hender- son, Calvin Sieb, Norman Voelker Troisième Degré, Deuxieme Mention: Betty Churgin, Albert Fine Troisième Degré, Troisième Mention: Richard Strasburg Concours de Violon Jury: Marcel Dupré, Paul Bazelaire, Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Rolande Falcinelli, Paul Fievet, Jean Françaix, Marcel Jean, Roland Manuel, Nicholas Nabokoff, Leo Preger, Michael Spisak, Antoni Szalowski Premier Prix: David Montagu, Calvin Sieb Deuxieme Prix: Stuart Fastofsky 1951 Concours d’Analyse Harmonique Degré Superieur Premieres Medailles: Betty Churgin, Norman Voelker (Prix Relations Cul- turelles) Secondes Medailles: Rosette Renshaw, Dean Witter Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 241 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 241 Troisième Medaille: Shirley Okon Premiere Mention: Virginia Hageman (classe preparatoire) Concours de Composition Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Jean Françaix, Paul Bazelaire, Michel Spisak, An- nette Dieudonné Premiere Mention: Richard Wienhorst Premiere Seconde Mention: Virginia Hageman Deuxieme Seconde Mention: Dean Nuernberger Premiere Troisième Mention: Richard Oliver Deuxieme Troisième Mention: Dean Witter Prix d’Excellence and Prix du Gouvernement Français: Louise Talma Seconde Prix: Richard Wienhorst, Dean Nuernburger Premier Accessite: Betty Churgin, Rosette Renshaw Concours de Chant Premier Prix d’Excellence: Janet Southwick Premier Prix: Leon Grat Seconde Prix: H. William Battaile, Donna Precht, Donna Rumsey Premier Accessite: John Ferrante, Churchill Jackson Seconde Accessite: Germaine Barre, Roberta Basnett, Meline Kuhlanjian Concours de Dechiffrage Premiere Mention and Prix Gilbert Lecompte, 2,000 francs: William Gant Seconde Mention: James Darling, Louise Harwell Troisième Mention: La Verne Dalka, John Elton Concours Direction d’Ensemble Vocal Prix d’Excellence and Prix du Gouvernement Français: Elaine Brown Premier Prix and Prix Lili Boulanger: John Westmoreland Premier Accessite: Sonya Garfinkle Concours Interpretation de Musique Ancienne Prix d’Excellence and Prix des Relations Culturelles: Janet Southwick Premier Prix and Prix des Relations Culturelles: L’Ensemble Vocal, Donna Precht, Donna Rumsey Seconde Prix: Leon Gray, William Battaile Premier Accessite: John Ferrante 242 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 242 Concours de Musique d’Ensemble Premier Prix: Stuart Fastofsky, Norman Voelker Seconde Prix: Betty Churgin, William Gant, John Golz, Walter Harelson, William Klentz, Norman Voelker Individual Prizes Premier Prix: John Elton, Thomas Borkcman, Seconde Prix: James Darling, Joy Hazelrigg Premier Accessite: Ann Fiore, Mary Jane Troop Seconde Accessite: Ann McKinley Concours de Piano Concours “A” Premiere Medaille: Anna Fiore Secondes Medailles: Rosie Banaag, Ann McKinley Troisièmes Medailles: La Verne Dalka, Elsie Kohlenstein Mention: Rose Ane Lonier Concours “B” Prix d’Excellence: William Brockman Premier Prix: John Elton, William Harelson, Louise Harwell, Joy Hazelrigg Seconde Prix: Rosine Nocera Premiers Accessites: James Darling, Laura King Seconde Accessite: Raphael Valerio Concours de Solfège Degré Superieur Premieres Medailles: Betty Churgin, Joy Hazelrigg, Rosette Renshaw Deuxieme Medailles: Louise Harwell, Rose Ann Lonier, Raphael Valerio Troisième Medailles: Rosie Banaag, John Elton, Dean Witter, Virginia Hageman Degré Moyen Premiere Mention: Ann Fiore, Shirley Okon Deuxieme Mention: Elsie Kohlenstein, Donna Precht Encouragement: La Verne Dalka Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 243 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 243 Degré Elementaire Premiere Mention: William Battaile, John Westmoreland Deuxieme Mention: Eleanor Folwell, Mary F. Raphael Troisième Mention: Churchill Jackson Encouragements: Germaine Barre, Dorothy Dittman, J. Lewis-Comas Concours de Violon Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Paul Bazelaire, Maurice Gendron, Jean Françaix, Jean Pasquier Premier Prix: Stuart Fastofsky Seconde Prix: John Golz Seconde Accessite: Marguerite Learning 1952 Concours de Chant Premier Prix: Norman Farrow Seconde Prix: Meline Kulhanjian Rappel de Seconde Prix: William Battaile Concours de Composition Premier Prix: Narcis Bonet, Julia Perry Seconde Prix: William Rogers Deuxiemes Accessites: Felix Guerrero, Eulia Dick Mention: Elizabeth Melroy Exceptional mention for performance of composers’ works: Idil Biret Concours de Keyboard Harmony Deuxieme Prix: Rosette Renshaw Premier Accessite: Ursula Clutterbuck, Elizabeth Melloy, Luise Vosgerchian Concours de Piano Prix d’Excellence: Malcolm Frager Premier Prix: Rosine Nocera Premier Accessite: Robert Howat, Roger Kamien Seconde Accessite: William Rogers 244 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 244 1953 Concours de Composition Premier Prix: Narcis Bonet, Eulia Dick Premier Seconde Prix, Prix Ravel: Hector Campos-Parsi Deuxieme Seconde Prix: Dean Witter Premier Accessite: Kenton Coe Deuxieme Accessite: Robert Browne, William Simon, Elliot Weisgarber Mention: Barbara Buckley, Laila Padorr, Barbara Scholl, Francis Scott Concours de Chant Premier Prix and Prix Jean-Paul Alaux: Vivian McDowell Martin Premier Accessite: Taudie Simon Seconde Accessite: Sonya Can Dam, Salvador Tomas Concours d’Ensemble Vocal Seconde Prix: Harold Decker Concours de Musique de Chambre Seconde Prix: Quattor Fauré: William Bruni, Derry Deane, Frederic Grande, Kermit Moore; Trio Beethoven: Derry Deane, Earl Kelly, Guelda Sherman Concours de Piano Premier Prix and Prix Salabert: Seymour Bernstein Seconde Prix: Genevieve Chinn Concours de Violon Premier Prix and Prix Salabert: Derry Deane Seconde Prix: William Bruni Concours de Violoncello Seconde Prix: Kermit Moore, Guelda Sherman 1954 Concours de Chant Premier Prix and Prix Arthur Sachs, 50,000 francs: Janice Seward Premier Prix and Prix Jean de Polignac, 50,000 francs: Leah Crohn Seconde Prix: Virginia English, William Battaile (Rappel) Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 245 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 245 Premier Accessite: Robert Wilson Seconde Accessite: Una Field, Margot Long Concours de Composition Premier Prix and Prix Francis Salabert,100,000 francs: Luise Vosgerchian Premier Accessite: Richard Oliver Seconde Accessite: Barbara Buckley Concours de Harpe Premier Prix and Prix Lili Boulanger, 50,000 francs: Nina Dunkel Concours de Musique de Chambre Premier Prix and Prix Dinu Lipatti, 25,000 francs each: Kenneth Gordon, Murray Present Premier Prix and Prix Madame Psycha, 10,000 francs: Manuel Villet Premier Accessite: Elizabeth Potteiger, Pilar Sarracas Seconde Accessite: Helene Blanchard, Carol Calkins, Betty Swanson Concours d’Orgue Seconde Prix: Jerome Rainey Premier Accessite: Paul Thomas Concours de Piano Prix d’Excellence and Prix Maurice Ravel, 200,000 francs: Manuel Villet Premier Prix and Prix Jacques Durand, 100,000 francs: Murray Present Seconde Prix: Georgene Van Sciver Premier Accessite: Pilar Larracas, Adele Velo Seconde Accessite: Eugene Harsh Concours de Violon Premier Prix and Prix Jacques Durand, 100,000 francs: Kenneth Gordon Seconde Prix: Caroline Calkins Premier Accessite: Pierre Dessaint Concours de Violoncello Seconde Prix: Arthur Howard Premiere Accessite: Elizabeth Potteiger Seconde Accessite: Betty Swanson 246 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 246 1955 Concours de Composition Premier Prix and Prix Jean de Polignac, 60,000 francs: Earsley Blackwood Seconde Prix: Jean Miller, John Perkins Premier Accessite: Boyd MacDonald Concours de Chant Premier Accessite: Martha Joyce Ritchey Seconde Accessite: Douglas Bredt Concours de Piano Prix d’Excellence, Prix Arthur Sachs, 60,000 francs, and Prix Jean de Polignac, 40,000 francs: Joseph Plon Premier Accessite: Rebecca Gresham Seconde Accessite: Joel Shapiro Concours de Violon Seconde Prix: Nina Geverts, Carol Stein Premier Accessite: Mary Louise Galen Concours de Violoncello Deuxieme Accessite: Barbara Stein 1956 No competitions held 1957 No competitions held 1958 No competitions held 1959 Concours de Conducting Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Jean Françaix, Jean Pasquier, Michel Spisak Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 247 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 247 Seconde Prix and Prix Batchelder, $100 each: Mark Anstendig, Fiora Con- tino Premier Mention: Harriet Simons Seconde Mention: Barbara Lingelback Troisième Mention: Zenobia Martin 1960 Concours de Chant Diplome: André Aerne, Joseph Parella, Jane Schleicher Concours de Clarinette Diplome cum laudes: Sherman Friedland Concours de Composition Hors Concours, avec felicitations: James Ming Diplome: Laurence Taylor, Donald McAfee Mention cum laudes: Charles Fox Mention: Robert Levin Concours de Conducting Diplome hors concours cum laudes: Fiora Contino Diplome cum laudes: Marion Vree Diplome: John Parella, Ruth Milliken Mention: Donald Reber Concours d’Ensemble Instrumental Diplome: Judith Basch, Arthur Lewis, Sophie Schultz Concours de Flute Diplome cum laude: Sophie Schultz Concours d’Orgue Diplome: Donald Reber Mention: Helen Caruthers Concours de Piano Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Jean Casadesus, Gilberte Lecompte, Annette Dieudonné, Michel Spisak, Antoni Szalowski 248 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 248 Diplome: Raymond Jackson Mention (in order of jury ranking): Harriet Elsom, Susan Heimbach, Robert Levin Concours de Violon Mention: Judith Basch 1966 Concours de Composition Prix du Publique Air (required composed work) Premier Prix: Yung Chen, Krzysztof Meyer Deuxieme Prix: Alinda Couper, Michael Flakesman, Hugh Robertson Mention: Harold Gilmore Recitative (required composed work) Premier Prix: Yung Shen, Krzysztof Meyer Seconde Prix: Alinda Couper, Harold Gilmore, Hugh Robertson Prix de Jury Jury: Nadia Boulanger, Annette Dieudonné, Henri Dutilleux Air Premier Prix: Yung Shen, Krzysztof Meyer Seconde Prix: Hugh Robertson, Michael Flakesman Mention: Alinda Couper, Harold Gilmore Recitative Premier Prix: Krzysztof Meyer Deuxieme Prix: Yung Shen, Hugh Robertson Mention: Alinda Couper, Harold Gilmore 1968 Concours de Composition Premier Prix: Hugh Robertson, Mirgana Zitkovic Seconde Prix: Christopher Bockman, Duncan Jones Troisième Prix: Shirley Mackie, Jay Gottlieb, Philipp Wachsmann Diplomas and Awards of the Conservatoire Américain � 249 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 249 1969 Concours de Composition Trios: Mention Magna cum laude: Jay Gottlieb, Leonard Lehrman, Robert Rodriguez, Robert Shafer Motets: Mention Magna cum laude: Robert Rodriguez, Robert Shafer Mention cum laude: Stefan Kozinski Honorable Mention: Evelyn Steinbock, Sue Wink 1970 Concours de Composition Mention magna cum laude: Christopher Bockman Mention cum laude: Stephan Kozinski, Almeida Prado Mention Honorable: Robert Gage, Jean Louis Hagenauer 1973 Concours Robert et Jean Casadesus Jury: Gaby Casadesus, Nadia Boulanger, Noel Lee, Gilberte Lecompte, An- nette Dieudonné Premier Degré and Prix Robert et Jean Casadesus (unanimous): Charles Pettaway Mention: Dennis Pitasi Mention: Sister Elisabeth Angilette Seconde Degré: Premier Mention: Robert Kapilow Deuxieme Mention: Emile Naoumoff Troisième Mention: Geoffery Bond Quatrième Mention: Judith Kogan Cinquième Mention: Elsie Watson Troisième Degré: Mention: Richard Kogan 250 � Appendix G 06-549_z08_AppG.qxd 10/30/06 6:50 AM Page 250 � Bibliography Primary Sources Echo de Paris. August 8, 1927. Re. Naming of swans at Palais. BMF ———. August 11, 1927. BMF Figaro. October 28, 1922. “Est-ce le Palais de Fontainebleau un menace d’incendie?” ———. Undated, 1976. Re. Conservatoire Américain’s fiftieth anniversary. BMF Fontainebleau Alumni Bulletin. January 1929. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. May 1930. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. May 1931. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. January 1932. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. May 1932. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. January 1933. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. May 1933. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. January 1934. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. May 1934. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. March 1935. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. May 1939. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. June 1940. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1945. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. June 1947. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1954. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1955. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1955. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1956. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1956. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. 251 06-549_z09_Bib.qxd 10/30/06 6:51 AM Page 251 ———. April 1957. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1957. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1958. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1958. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1959. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1959. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1960. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1961. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1963. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1965. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1966. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1966. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1967. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1967. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1968. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1968. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1969. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1969. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1970. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1970. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1971. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. November 1971. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. April 1972. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. May 1974. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. May 1976. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. May 1977. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. July 1978. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. January 1979. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. June 1980. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. June 1981. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. February 1997. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. February 1998. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. February 1999. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. January 2000. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. ———. January 2001. CA/F, CA/NY, possession of author. Le Journal. Article. June 26, 1924. BMF La Liberte. Article. July 3, 1959. Re. Opening of Conservatoire Américain de Fontainebleau for the year. BMF ———. Article. 1962. Re. Concert to honor Jean Françaix. BMF Musical Courier. Article. April 22, 1932, Paris. Re. Housing of Conservatoire Améri- cain students and future of school. CA/F Les Nouvelles Litteraires. Article. Undated, 1962. Interview with Jean Françaix. BMF 252 � Bibliography 06-549_z09_Bib.qxd 10/30/06 6:51 AM Page 252 La République de Seine-et-Marne. Article. Undated. Interview with Pierre Devinoy. BMF ———. Article. June 13, 1988. ———. Article. July 13, 1992. ———. Article. January 23, 1993. ———. Article: “Écoles d’Art Américaines en sursis?” January 31, 1994. Interviews Casadesus, Gaby, and Thérèse Casadesus Rawson. Interview with author, July 20, 1999, Recloses, France. Tape recording. Gottlieb, Jay. Interview with author, July 24, 2000, Fontainebleau, France. Tape recording. Harrison, James. Telephone interview with author, May 1, 2003, Cincinnati, Ohio. Notes. Kerr, Joe. Interviews with author, July 1999 and July 2000, Fontainebleau, France. Notes. Kaufman, Charles. Interview with author. March 24, 1999, New York City. Tape recording. Marty, Jean-Pierre. Telephone interview with author, July 1999, Fontainebleau, France. Notes. Naoumoff, Emile. Interview with author, October 14, 2000, Bloomington, Indiana. Tape recording. Takakjian, Debra. Interview with author, July 1999, Fontainebleau, France. Notes. Watson, Elsie. Interviews with author, July 1999 and July 2000, Fontainebleau, France; Boulder, Colo., 2004. Notes and tape recordings. Secondary Sources Brodeur, Clarence. “Fontainebleau: A Golden Jubilee.” Music Journal 29, no. 4 (April 1971): 31–33. Brooks, Jeanice. “Nadia Boulanger and the Salon of the Princesse de Polignac.” Jour- nal of the American Musicological Society 16, no. 3 (Fall 1993): 415–468. Brosman, Catherine Savage, ed. French Culture 1900–1975. Detroit: Gale Research, 1995. Campbell, Don G. Master Teacher: Nadia Boulanger. Washington, D.C.: Pastoral Press, 1984. Carter, Elliott. Collected Essays and Lectures. Rochester, N.Y.: University of Rochester Press, 1997. Casadesus, Gaby. Mes noces musicales. Paris: Buchet/Chastel, 1989. Copland, Aaron, and Vivian Perlis. Copland 1900 through 1945. New York: St. Mar- tin’s, 1984. Crawford, Richard. America’s Musical Life: A History. New York: Norton, 2001. Bibliography � 253 06-549_z09_Bib.qxd 10/30/06 6:51 AM Page 253 Damrosch, Walter. My Musical Life. New York: Scribner, 1923. Fay, Amy. Music-Study in Germany: The Classic Memoir of the Romantic Era, with a New Introduction by Francis Dillon. New York: Dover, 1991. Flanner, Janet. Paris Was Yesterday. New York: Harcourt Brace Jovanovich, 1972. Gann, Kyle. American Music in the Twentieth Century. New York: Schirmer, 1997. Hall, Charles J. A Chronicle of American Music, 1700–1995. New York: Schirmer, 1996. Heintze, James, ed. Perspectives on American Music since 1950. New York: Garland, 1999. Hitchcock, H. Wiley, ed. The Phonograph and Our Musical Life: Proceedings of a Cen- tennial Conference, 7–10 December 1977. New York: Institute for Studies in Amer- ican Music, University of New York, 1980. Karnow, Stanley. Paris in the Fifties. New York: Times Books, 1997. Karolyi, Otto. Modern American Music: From Charles Ives to the Minimalists. London: Cygnus Arts, 1996. Kendall, Alan. The Tender Tyrant: Nadia Boulanger: A Life Dedicated to Music. Wilton, Conn: Lyceum Books, 1977. Kimberling, Victoria J. David Diamond: A Bio-Bibliography. Metuchen, N.J.: Scare- crow Press, 1987. Kingman, Daniel. American Music: A Panorama. New York: Schirmer, 1990. Locke, Ralph P., and Cyrilla Barr. Cultivating Music in America: Women Patrons and Patronage since 1860. Berkeley: University of California Press, 1997. MacLean, Helene. There’s No Place Like Paris. New York: Doubleday and Co., 1951. Martin, George. The Damrosch Dynasty. Boston: Houghton Mifflin, 1983. McMillan, James F. Twentieth Century France: Politics and Society 1898–1991. London: Arnold Books, 1985. Mellers, Wilfrid. Music in a New-Found Land: Themes and Developments in the History of American Music. New York: Knopf, 1965. Mender, Mona. Extraordinary Women in Support of Music. Lanham, Md.: Scarecrow Press, 1997. Montsaingeon, Bruno. Mademoiselle: Conversations with Nadia Boulanger. Boston: Northeastern University Press, 1985. Nectoux, Jean-Michel. The New Grove Twentieth-Century French Masters. New York: Norton, 1986. Norton Grove Concise Encyclopedia of Music. New York: Norton and Company, 1988. Olmstead, Andrea. Juilliard: A History. Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1999. Orenstein, Arbie. Ravel: Man and Musician. New York: Columbia University Press, 1975. Patorini-Casadesus, Regina. Ma famille Casadesus: Souvenirs d’une claveciniste 1890–1955. Paris: La Ruche Ouvriere, 1962. Perryman, William Ray. Walter Damrosch: An Educational Force in American Music. MA thesis, Indiana University, 1973. Philip, Robert. Early Recordings and Musical Style: Changing Tastes in Instrumental Per- formance, 1900–1950. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 1992. 254 � Bibliography 06-549_z09_Bib.qxd 10/30/06 6:51 AM Page 254 Pollack, Howard. Aaron Copland: The Life and Work of an Uncommon Man. New York: Henry Holt, 1999. Price, Roger. A Concise History of France. Cambridge, U.K.: Cambridge University Press, 1993. Rockwell, John. All American Music: Composition in the Late Twentieth Century. New York: Knopf, 1983. Rosenstiel, Léonie. Nadia Boulanger: A Life in Music. New York: Norton, 1982. Saffle, Michael, ed. Perspectives on American Music, 1900–1950. New York: Garland, 2000. Slonimsky, Nicolas. The Concise Baker’s Biographical Dictionary of Musicians. New York: Schirmer, 1994. Spycket, Jérôme. Nadia Boulanger. Translated by M. M. Shriver. Stuyvesant, N.Y.: Pendragon Press, 1992. Stevens, Elizabeth Mruk. The Influence of Nadia Boulanger on Composition in the United States: A Study of Piano Solo Works by Her American Students. DMA thesis: Boston University, 1975. Stooks, Sacha. The Art of Robert Casadesus. London: Fortune Press, 1960. Struble, John Warthen. The History of American Music: MacDowell through Minimal- ism. New York: Facts on File, 1995. Thomson, Virgil. Virgil Thomson. New York: Dutton, 1985. Thuillier, Jacques. Fontainebleau. Fontainebleau: privately printed, 1999. Timbrell, Charles. French Pianism. Portland, Ore.: Amadeus Press, 1999. Tischler, Barbara L. An American Music: The Search for an American Musical Identity. New York: Oxford University Press, 1986. Tommasini, Anthony. “Little-Known Works of a Renowned French Pianist,” The New York Times, Friday, September 24, 1999. ———. Virgil Thomson: Composer on the Aisle. New York: Norton, 1997. Weber, Eugen. The Hollow Years: France in the 1930s. New York: Norton, 1994. Bibliography � 255 06-549_z09_Bib.qxd 10/30/06 6:51 AM Page 255 06-549_z09_Bib.qxd 10/30/06 6:51 AM Page 256 � Index admission policies, xi, xxvi, xxvii, 11, 88, 98, 101, 119, 124, 131, 140, 142–43, 161, 166, 182 Alaux, Jean-Paul, 63, 65–69, 76–79, 245 alumni, 161, 166, 168, 181–83, 185, 205–8. See also Fontainebleau Alumni Association; Fontainebleau Associations, Inc. American Committee, 5; regarding Francis Casadesus, 14; response to Boulanger’s aging in, 103; weaknesses of, 145; during World War II, 51, 63–64. See also Fontainebleau Alumni Association; Fontainebleau Associations, Inc. Antheil, George, 7, 205 anti-Semitism, 31–32 archives, xv, 185 Avery, Stanley, xxvii–xxviii, 10–11, 18, 187, 205 awards, xxiii, 10, 12, 33–34, 80, 143, 188, 190, 209–50 Barassy Hotel, 84, 162, 190; archives stored in, 185 Bastille Day celebrations, 21, 40, 67, 77, 83, 107; lack of student participation in, 179 Batalla, Jean, 21, 33, 219 Bazelaire, Paul, 17, 25, 32, 81, 93, 190, 199; during World War II, 56; as a jury member, 219, 222, 239, 240–44 Bebe, Juliette, 154, 149 Bel-Ebat, 144 Bernstein, 114, 142–45, 192, 203 Biret, Idil, 80, 189–90, 203, 205, 244; as prodigy, 78, 97 Bloch, André, xxiv, 7, 23, 190 Bonet, Narcis, 189, 192, 197, 199, 244–45; as director of Conservatoire, 128–29; and orchestra studies, 131, 134; resignation of, 135 Boulanger, Lili, xix, 7, 89–90 Boulanger, Nadia, 189,191–92; and anti-Semitism, 31–32; biography of, 89–90; death of, 127; as director of Conservatoire, xii, 66, 68, 75–88, 92–102, 104, 119–29, 134, 173, 182; as faculty member, xi, xxiv, 7–8, 10, 16, 21, 23–25, 27, 39, 43, 63–65; 257 06-549_z10_Idx.qxd 10/30/06 6:52 AM Page 257 hagiography of, xii, 35, 84, 96, 98, 102, 129, 144–48, 156, 173–75; teaching methods of, 7–8, 22–23, 31, 33, 40, 42, 66, 81–83, 88–89, 91–91, 94, 96–97, 99, 102–5, 109–12, 126, 130; during World War II, 51–52, 55–56 Boulez, Pierre, 81–82, 104, 123, 127, 129, 133 Bray, Albert, xxv, 26–27, 58 Casadesus, Francis: biography of, xviii; as cofounder of Conservatoire, xii–xviii, 10–12, 14–15, 187; manifesto of, xxiii–xxvi Casadesus, Gaby, xi, xxiv, xxvi, 10, 20, 60, 128, 136, 189, 192, 199, 250; as advisor to Conseil, 128, 136, 156, 158–60; biography of, 6–7; death and legacy of, 167–68; as promoter of French repertoire, 32, 143; role in reconstructing Conservatoire, 65–68, 72; teaching methods of, 40, 42; during World War II, 52–55, 71–72 Casadesus, Guy, 67 Casadesus, Jean, 54, 191, 199; biography of, 101–2; death of, 121–22; as faculty member, 65–66, 94, 119–21 Casadesus, Robert, 5–6, 10, 25, 41–43, 188–90, 197; as director of Conservatoire, 55–56, 60; as jury member, 241, 248; as promoter of French repertoire, 29–30, 41–43; during World War II, 52–56 chamber music, 93, 127, 129, 134–35, 142–43, 159–68, 172, 176, 190, 195 Chapelle de la Trinité. See Palais de Fontainebleau, Chapelle de la Trinité Chateau de Chaumont, xvii, xx, xxiii, 4, 187 Comité Franco-Américain, xix competition with Conservatoire Américain, 80, 124; Marlboro Music festival, 93, 115, 120, 172, 180; Tanglewood, 53, 60, 80, 88, 93, 120, 172, 180 composition: and Boulanger, Nadia, 7–10, 22–25, 55, 64, 76, 81–83, 89–92, 111, 169; courses in, 7–10, 22–25, 91–92, 102, 160–61, 176; faculty, xxiv–xxvi, 7, 23, 128–29, 132–36; Germanic models, ix; modernism and, 3–4, 81–83, 104–6, 123, 132–36; at the Paris Conservatoire, xxvi, 4; Premier Prix and, xxvi, 10, 12; prizes in, 76, 78, 80, 143, 188–89, 190, 195; publication of student works, 16; styles and, 33, 35, 81–82; and Talma, Louise, 100, 188–89 Conseil d’Administration: acceptance policies and, 182; Boulanger, Nadia and, 66, 84, 103–4, 124, 129; Casadesus, Gaby and, 168; Marty, Jean-Pierre and, 142, 145–46, 148, 150; presidents of, 80, 198; relations with Fontainebleau Alumni Association, 119, 121, 125, 134, 139–40, 145–46; relations with Palais, 28, 31, 179; since 1993, 155–58, 160–61; during World War II, 63–64 Conservatoire Américain: admission policies of, xi, xxvi, xxvii, 11, 88, 98, 101, 119, 124, 131, 140, 142–43, 161, 166, 182; anti-Semitism at, 31–32; archives of, xv, 185; awards given by, xxiii, 10, 12, 33–34, 80, 143, 188, 190, 209–50; diplomas granted by, 12, 26, 30, 35, 169, 171, 175, 188, 209–50; and early music, 9, 81, 99, 130; founding of, xvii–xxix; guest artists at, 10, 20–21, 66, 83, 87, 95, 97, 125, 141, 143, 258 � Index 06-549_z10_Idx.qxd 10/30/06 6:52 AM Page 258 155, 164, 166, 203–4; library of, 58, 64, 130, 163, 185; locations of, xx–xxiii, 13, 52, 54, 63, 65, 128, 150, 180; restaurant of, 5, 14, 17, 20, 39–40, 54, 64, 76, 79, 100, 112, 114, 157, 161, 165, 168 Conservatoire Américain, alumni, 161, 166, 168, 181–83, 185, 205–8. See also Fontainebleau Alumni Association; Fontainebleau Associations, Inc. Conservatoire Américain, directors of, 12–15, 119–31, 103, 179, 182, 187–89, 192, 197–202; Bonet, Narcis, 128, 131, 134; Boulanger, Nadia, xii, 64–66, 68, 75, 77–81, 87, 93, 97–98, 100, 104, 125, 127–28, 173, 175, 182; Casadesus, Francis, 13; Casadesus, Robert, 63–68, 72; Decreus, Camille, 15, 31, 60; D’Ollone, Max, 15, 187, 197, 200; Entremont, Philippe, 156–68, 176, 181; Marty, Jean-Pierre, 136, 139–44, 146–48, 155–56; Ravel, Maurice, 28–31; Saint-Saëns, Camille, 4; Widor, Charles-Marie, 15 Conservatoire Américain, discrimination at: racial, xxvii, 117; religious. See also anti-Semitism Conservatoire Américain, faculty of, xviii, xix–xxvi, 3–7, 9–12, 15–17, 28, 30–34, 45, 55, 59, 75–78, 80–82, 87, 92, 94, 99–98, 101–3, 106, 112, 119, 120–23, 129–31, 133, 135, 141–45, 147, 148, 155–56, 158–69, 172, 174–76, 180–81, 183, 191–93, 199–202; Bazelaire, Paul, 17, 25, 32, 81, 93, 190, 199; Boulanger, Nadia, xi, xxiv, 7–8, 10, 16, 21, 23–25, 27, 39, 43, 63–65; Casadesus, Gaby, xi, xxiv, xxvi, 10, 20, 60, 128, 136, 189, 192, 199, 250; Casadesus, Robert, 5–6, 10, 25, 41–43, 188–90, 197; composition, 7, 23, 128–29, 132–36; Dieudonné, Annette, 78, 91, 99, 102–5, 111, 126–27, 200; Dupré, Marcel, xi, 17, 21, 24–25, 63, 89, 98, 200; Entremont, Philippe, 107, 156–68, 176, 181, 192, 197, 200; French, xi, 51, 56, 100, 105, 125, 176; Jolas, Betsy, 132–33; Levin, Robert, 125–27, 129, 131, 134, 140, 161, 190, 192, 203; Marty, Jean- Pierre, 136, 139–51, 176, 179, 192, 197; Naoumoff, Emile, 128–30, 135, 139, 155–56, 201, 204; non-French, 33, 124, 126, 132, 134–35, 161–62, 176–77; Pasquier Trio, 75, 93, 147, 189, 193, 202, 240, 244; Philipp, Isidor, xxiv–xxv, 5–6, 8, 17, 23–24, 26, 29–30, 33, 42–43, 45,188, 202; Silva-Herard, Paul, xxiv; Talma, Louise, 53, 94, 96–98, 100–1, 125–28; World War II, during, 52–54 Conservatoire Américain, finances of: under direction of Boulanger, Nadia, 75–78, 80, 83, 87, 93, 97–98, 121, 126–29; during the Depression, 19, 26; under direction of Entremont, Philippe, 156–58, 161; initial, xix–xxii, 6, 11, 13; under direction of Marty, Jean-Pierre, 139–40, 142, 144, 155; after World War II, 67; during World War II, 54 Conservatoire Américain, pianism at, xxiv, xxvi, 5–10, 12, 15, 39, 64–66, 71, 75, 80, 92–95, 102, 105, 119–22, 133, 149, 158–60, 167–68, 176–77, 181; Casadesus, Gaby, 32, 40, 42, 52–55, 143; Casadesus, Robert, 29–30, 41–43; Philipp, Isidor, 8, 17, 23–24, 26, 29–30, 42–43, 45 Conservatoire Américain, recreation at, 19–21, 77, 83, 105–6, 163, 165; Index � 259 06-549_z10_Idx.qxd 10/30/06 6:52 AM Page 259 dances, 16–17, 19–21, 41, 60; educational, 10, 93; for faculty and students together, 6, 54, 77, 97; trips, 16, 20–21, 40–42, 79, 83, 99, 105 Conservatoire Américain, students: amateur, 11, 23, 97, 166, 182–83; female, xxvi, xxvii–xxviii, 13, 28, 94, 98; male, xxvi, 26, 28, 67, 84, 94, 98, 162; non-American, 124, 150, 175, 191 Copland, Aaron: as alumnus, 17, 22, 35, 80, 110, 120, 190, 191; Nadia Boulanger on, 22–23, 96; as student, xxvi–xxviii, 5, 7–8, 15, 187, 205; works of, 32–33, 80 Damrosch, Walter: as administrator, 4–5, 8, 11–12, 20, 22, 26, 198; as cofounder of Conservatoire, xvii–xxviii, 34, 187, 188; disagreement between Francis Casadesus and, 14–15; during World War II, 51, 63, 189 Debussy, Claude, xi, 89 Decreus, Camille, xxiv–xxv, 15–16, 20, 23, 30–31, 60, 188, 197–98, 200 Delécluse, Lucie, 56–59, 67, 101 Diamond, David, xi, 23, 31, 33, 188, 205 Diémer, Louis, 6 Dieudonné, Annette, 78, 91, 99, 102–5, 111, 126–27, 200; as jury member, 234, 239–50 D’Ollone, Max, 15, 187, 197, 200 Dupré, Marcel xi, 17, 21, 24–25, 63, 89, 98, 200; as jury member, 222, 239–41 Durand, Jacques, xx, xxv, 8, 16, 23, 78, 80, 144 Dutilleux, Henri, 80, 123, 127, 129, 190, 200; as jury member, 241, 249 early music, 9, 81, 99, 130 École des beaux-Arts, 6, 13, 56, 77, 158, 163–64, 188, 197 Elwell, Herbert, 7, 206, 234 Entremont, Philippe, 107, 192, 197, 200; as director of Conservatoire, 156–68, 176, 181 Fairchild, Blair, xix, xxii, 11 Fauré, Gabriel, 89, 111; works of, 9, 30, 33, 54, 105, 124, 129, 133, 165 Flagler, Harry Harkness, xxii, 26 Fontainebleau Alumni Association, 66, 75, 80, 84, 93, 161, 183, 192; Mannes College of Music and, 131; relations with Conseil d’Administration, 119, 121, 125, 134, 139–40, 145–46, 157–59; during World War II, 51–52, 55, 58, 59. See also American Committee; Fontainebleau Associations, Inc. Fontainebleau Associations, Inc., vii, 161, 181, 183. See also American Committee; Fontainebleau Alumni Association Fontainebleau (city), 10, 19–21, 39, 51, 185; description and location of, xx–xxviii, 77–80, 98; relations with Conservatoire, 3–5, 12, 56–59, 66–67, 77–80, 104–6, 123, 145, 179; during World War II, 34–35, 44, 46, 56–59 Françaix, Jean, 80, 83–34, 105–10, 123, 190, 200, 203; as jury member, 234, 239–42, 244, 247 Francis I (King of France), 171 Gargenville, 21, 156 Great Barrington, 53–56, 189 Harrison, James, vii, 57, 126, 128, 131, 134, 140, 190, 192, 206 Hochschule, ix–x 260 � Index 06-549_z10_Idx.qxd 10/30/06 6:52 AM Page 260 Hotel d’Albe, 185, 189; acquisition of, 67, 76; description of, 83, 106, 162–65, 167 INSEAD, 162, 164 IRCAM, 133, 141–42 Jeu de Paume. See Palais de Fontainebleau, Jeu de Paume Jolas, Betsy, 192, 201; biography of, 135–36; as conseil member, 155–56, 158; as faculty member, 132–33; and Marty, Jean-Pierre, 147–48; resignation of, 168 Kaufman, Charles, vii, 96, 131–35, 140, 155, 161 Kerr, Joseph, vii; as administrator, 148, 158, 162, 165; as student, 91 Levin, Robert, 190, 192, 203; as instructor, 125–27, 129, 131, 134, 140, 161; as student, 102, 206, 248–49 Long, Marguerite, xxvi, 6 Longy School of Music, 52, 56 Louis XV wing. See Palais de Fontainebleau, Louis XV wing Mannes College of Music: history of, 130; end of partnership with Conservatoire, 139–42, 147, 176; partnership with Conservatoire, 130–34, 157, 161, 181, 192 Markevitch, Igor, 107, 114, 128–29 Marlboro Music festival, 93, 115, 120, 172, 180 Martin, Louis, 126 Marty, Jean-Pierre, vii, 201; biography of, 136; as director of Conservatoire, 136, 139–51, 176, 179, 192, 197; and Jolas, Betsy, 147–48; and Naoumoff, Emile, 144, 146; resignation of, 150–52, 155–56; as student, 97 McPhee, Colin, 7, 35, 207 Messiaen, Olivier, 82, 105, 111, 123, 128, 135–36 Naoumoff, Emile, vii, 191; as instructor, 128–30, 135, 139, 155–56, 201, 204; and Marty, Jean-Pierre, 144, 146; as student, 97, 98, 109–15, 191, 207, 250 orchestras, 134, 135, 142, 160–61, 163, 168 Palais de Fontainebleau: Chapelle de la Trinité, 77, 163, 164, 168; description and history of, xi, xxi, xxvii, 20, 64, 171; “forgotten theater,” xxi, 141, 151, 41, 58; Jeu de Paume, 9, 29, 34, 76, 99, 158–59, 163–64; Louis XV wing, xxi, 15, 28, 34, 60, 69, 72, 91, 128–30, 141, 151, 168, 178, 187; Quartier Henri IV, 15, 128–29, 150, 157, 163, 178, 187; during World War II, 34–35, 51, 57–58 Paris Conservatoire: faculty from, 4–7, 82, 84, 87, 89, 101, 160–61; as model for Conservatoire, xviii, xix, xxiii–xxvi, 12; training at, xi, xvii, 91, 97, 194, 176–77 Pasquier Trio, 75, 93, 147, 189, 193, 202, 240, 244 Pershing, John, xvi, xviii, xxiii, 187 Philipp, Isidor, xxiv–xxv, 5–6, 33, 188, 202; repertoire and, 8, 17, 24, 29–30; teaching methods of, 23–24, 26, 42–43, 45; World War II, during, 56 Poulenc, Francis, 80–82, 105, 123, 190, 202, 204 Premier Prix, xi, xxvi, 8, 10, 12, 187–88, 209; winners of, 240–49 ProQuartet, 141, 149–50, 169 Pugno, Raoul, 90 Index � 261 06-549_z10_Idx.qxd 10/30/06 6:52 AM Page 261 Quartier Henri IV. See Palais de Fontainebleau, Quartier Henri IV Rachmaninoff, Sergei, 9, 90, 133, 143 Rampal, Jean-Pierre, 128–29, 204 Ravel, Maurice, xi, 22, 34, 188,197, 202; as director of Conservatoire, 27–31; works of, 6, 9, 30, 54, 66, 82, 101, 105, 124, 129, 133, 159, 168 Richter, Sviatoslav, 106 Rogers, Francis, 14, 21–22, 28 Saint-Saëns, Camille, xi, xx, 3–4, 6–9, 17, 24, 54, 89, 168 Salle des Colonnes, 9, 106, 110, 124, 144, 163–64 Saylor, Elizabeth Powell, vii, 39–48, 51 Silva-Herard, Paul, xxiv Smith, Melville, 23, 56 St. George’s School, 52–53, 189 Stewart, Reginald, 56, 207 Stokowski, Leopold, xxii, 15 Stravinsky, Igor, 51, 188–89, 204; as clinician, 33, 204; as jury member, 188–89; works of, 7, 33, 82, 92, 105, 128 Stravinsky, Soulima, 67, 87, 110, 114, 119, 122, 189, 204 Takakjian, Debra, vii, 146–48, 150, 158–60 Talma, Louise, 188; as faculty member, 53, 94, 96–98, 100–1, 125–28; as student, 7, 17, 33–34, 174, 202, 207, 213–14, 216, 220, 230, 236–38, 242; works of, 33–34, 104 Tanglewood. See competition with Conservatoire Américain, Tanglewood Thomson, Virgil, xi, 7, 33, 96, 98, 103, 174 Tuttle, Mabel, xxii, xxvii–xxviii Valéry, François, 80–81, 104, 123–28, 135–36, 140, 144–45, 198 Valéry, Paul, 10, 80 Widor, Charles-Marie, xxiv, 4, 9, 15, 27–29, 187–88, 197, 202 World War I, x, xvii, 34, 172 World War II, xii, 23, 56, 168, 172, 188–89; and American Committee, 51, 63–64; and Bazelaire, Paul, 56; and Boulanger, Nadia, 51–52, 55–56; and Casadesus, Gaby, 52–55, 71–72; and Casadesus, Robert, 52–56; and Conseil d’Administration, 63–64; and Damrosch, Walter, 51, 63, 189; and Fontainebleau (city), 34–35, 44, 46, 56–59; and Fontainebleau Alumni Association, 51–52, 55, 58, 59; and Palais de Fontainebleau, 34–35, 51, 57–58; and Philipp, Isidor, 56 262 � Index 06-549_z10_Idx.qxd 10/30/06 6:52 AM Page 262 � About the Author Kendra Preston Leonard is a musicologist specializing in the music and mu- sical culture of twentieth-century America, France, and Britain; women and music; and music and film. Trained initially as a cellist, Leonard performed throughout the United States and Europe as a soloist and chamber musician. Shifting her focus from performance to historical musicology, she did postgraduate work at the Uni- versity of Cincinnati College-Conservatory of Music. Establishing herself as an independent scholar, Leonard has presented her research regularly at conferences including those of the American Musicolog- ical Society, the Society for American Music, the International Association of Women in Music, Women in French, the British Shakespeare Association, and the Popular Culture Association/American Culture Association. She was a keynote speaker at the American Music Research Center’s Fourth Annual Susan Porter Memorial Symposium on “Nadia Boulanger and American Mu- sic.” She received the Yosef Wosk Award for Independent Scholarship in 2004 and in 2006 was appointed the National Coalition of Independent Scholars’ representative to the American Council of Learned Societies. 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work_wztmim6ulbgmfmwer3em3gb3wm	----	Trusting Records: The Evolution of Legal, Historical, and Diplomatic Methods of Assessing the Trustworthiness of Records, from Antiquity to the Digital Age by HEATHER MARIE MACNEIL B.A. (Hon.), The University of Guelph, 1980 M.A., Simon Fraser University, 1984 M.A.S., The University of British Columbia, 1987 A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES (Individual Interdisciplinary Studies Programme) We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA October 1998 © Heather Marie MacNeil, 1998 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at the University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make it freely available f o r reference and study. I further agree that permission f o r extensive copying of this thesis f o r scholarly purposes may be granted by the head of my department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed w i t h o u t my written permission. r Department of " O^u^ rWWO" 5 <H \A*~^ The University of E Vancouver, Canada Date n.MW The University of British Columbia ^ 0 ^ & * ^ DE-6 (2/88) Abstract A trustworthy record is one that is both an accurate statement of facts and a genuine manifestation of those facts. Record trustworthiness thus has two qualitative dimensions: reliability and authenticity. Reliability means that the record is capable of standing for the facts to which it attests, while authenticity means that the record is what it claims to be. The trustworthiness of records as evidence is of particular interest to legal and historical practitioners who need to ensure that records are trustworthy so that justice may be realized or the past understood. Traditionally, the disciplines of law and history have relied on the guarantee of trustworthiness inherent in the circumstances surrounding the creation and maintenance of records. For records created by bureaucracies, that trustworthiness has been ensured and protected through the mechanisms of authority and delegation, and through procedural controls exercised over record-writers and record-keepers. As bureaucracies rely increasingly on new information and communication technologies to create and maintain their records, the question that presents itself is whether these traditional mechanisms and controls are adequate to the task of verifying the degree of reliability and authenticity of electronic records, whose most salient feature is the ease with which they can be invisibly altered and manipulated. This study explores the evolution of means of assessing the trustworthiness of records as evidence from antiquity to the digital age, and from the perspectives of law and history; and examines recent efforts undertaken by researchers in the field of archival science to develop methods for ensuring the trustworthiness of electronic records specifically, based on a contemporary adaptation of diplomatics. Diplomatics emerged in the seventeenth century as a body of concepts and principles for determining the authenticity of medieval documents. The exploration reveals the extent to which legal, historical, and diplomatic methods operate within a framework of inferences, generalizations and probabilities; the degree to which those methods are rooted in observational principles; and the continuing validity of a best evidence principle for assessing record trustworthiness. The study concludes that, while the technological means of assessing and ensuring record trustworthiness have changed fundamentally over time, the underlying principles have remained remarkably consistent. ii T A B L E OF CONTENTS Abstract Introduction Chapter 1 The Evolution of Methods for Assessing the Trustworthiness of Documentary Evidence: From the Justinian Code to Langlois' and Seignobos' Introduction to the Study of History Chapter 2 Modern Rules Governing Documentary Evidence at Common Law and in Canadian Statutory Law Chapter 3 Modern Historical Methods for Assessing Record Trustworthiness Chapter 4 Ensuring the Trustworthiness of Electronic Records: Contemporary Archival Diplomatics Conclusion Bibliography i'li Introduction Trust is "confidence in or reliance on some quality or attribute of a person or thing, or the truth of a statement."1 When something is said to be trustworthy it means that it deserves, or is entitled to, trust or confidence. When a record is said to be trustworthy, it means that it is both an accurate statement of facts and a genuine manifestation of those facts. Record trustworthiness thus has two qualitative dimensions: reliability and authenticity. Reliability means that the record is capable of standing for the facts to which it attests, while authenticity means that the record is what it claims to be. These two qualities - reliability and authenticity - are of particular interest to legal and historical practitioners. Since antiquity, records have been preserved as arsenals of law and history. The complementary relationship between the disciplines of law and history is evident in their evolution. From antiquity until the fifteenth century, the two disciplines were linked together through the rhetorical tradition. During the sixteenth and seventeenth century, as historical and legal scholarship gradually moved away "from the literary analysis of classical texts and toward an assessment of the accuracy of somewhat more recent historical data," 2 the examination of records as evidence became a central concern of both disciplines. Historians and lawyers alike "sought to date documents and assess the good faith, knowledge, and credibility of those who initially had prepared them." 3 The need to authenticate medieval documents in particular led to the development, in the seventeenth century, of the science of diplomatics. By the eighteenth century, diplomatic science had been introduced into European faculties of law and by the nineteenth century, it had become one of the ancillary disciplines of history. It formed, moreover, a part of the foundation for the discipline of archival science, which emerged in the same period. The needs of law and history are, similarly, complementary. Legal and historical practitioners need to ensure that records are trustworthy so that justice may be realized or the past understood. Traditionally, they have relied on the guarantee of trustworthiness inherent in the circumstances surrounding the creation and maintenance of records. For records created by bureaucracies, that trustworthiness has been ensured and protected through the mechanisms of authority and delegation and through procedural controls exercised over record-writers and record-keepers. Reliability typically has been associated with the creation of a record, and refers to the completeness of its intellectual form and the degree of control exercised over its creation procedures, while authenticity has been linked to the record's mode, status, and form of transmission, and the manner of its preservation and custody. 1 Oxford English Dictionary, vol. 2 (New York: Oxford University Press, 1971), s.v. "trust." 2 Barbara J. Shapiro, Probability and Certainty in Seventeenth Century England: A Study of the Relationships between Natural Science, Religion, History, Law and Literature (New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1983), 164. 3 Ibid. 1 As bureaucracies rely increasingly on new information and communication technologies to create and maintain their records, the question that presents itself is whether these traditional mechanisms and controls are adequate to the task of verifying the authenticity and degree of reliability of electronic records whose most salient feature is the ease with which they can be invisibly altered and manipulated. The technological complexity and dynamic nature of electronic record-keeping systems necessitate new legal interpretations of what constitutes "a circumstantial guarantee of trustworthiness" and "best evidence". Legal commentators note that, with the increasing use of computer-generated evidence in the courtroom, courts must determine, "whether the legal system is in need of new rules of evidence or stricter foundation requirements to deal adequately with computer-generated evidence."4 Recent historical literature addressing the implications of information technologies for historical methodology also reflects historians' concern that the complexity and volatility of electronic records may defeat their efforts to establish the authenticity of such records and to assess their likely degree of reliability. During the spring of 1996, the trustworthiness of electronic records became a focal point of hearings held by the Canadian Commission of Inquiry into the Deployment of Canadian Forces to Somalia.5 The Commission was established in 1995 for the purpose of investigating "the chain of command system, leadership, discipline and actions and decisions of the Canadian Forces, as well as the actions and decisions of the Department of National Defence in respect of the Canadian Force's participation in the peace enforcement mission in Somalia during 1992-93." As part of its investigation, the Commission requested access to National Defence Operations Centre (NDOC) logs, which were maintained in an automated database and which contained a record of all message traffic coming into National Defence headquarters from Canadian Forces' theatres of operation. During its review of the logs, the Commission discovered "a number of unexplained anomalies, including entries containing no information, entries missing serial numbers, and entries with duplicate serial numbers. The concern was that there may have been deliberate tampering with these logs."6 Subsequent investigations "revealed no evidence to support the theory that tampering had occurred, but could not eliminate the possibility."7 The investigations did reveal, however, a number of other serious problems with the NDOC logs, most of which appear to have resulted from a lack of standard operating procedures with regard to the log, a completely ineffective security system, and a lack of system audits, among other things. The Commissioners determined that, "NDOC logs are not a reliable record of transactions at the operations centre. Even apart from the question of deliberate tampering, the logs were 4 Mark A. Johnson, "Computer printouts as evidence: Stricter foundation or presumption of reliability?" Marquette Law Review 75 (Winter 1992): 439. 5 [Canada], Dishonoured Legacy: The Lessons of the Somalia Affair. Report of the Commission of Inquiry into the Deployment of Canadian Forces to Somalia, vol. 1 (Ottawa: Minister of Public Works and Government Services Canada, 1997), xxx. 6 Ibid., vol. 5, 1218. 7 Ibid. 2 compromised by problems with the data-base system and the absence of proper procedures for the operators."8 On the basis of its analysis, the Commission concluded that the Department of National Defence had failed to ensure the maintenance of a complete record of in- theatre message traffic to Headquarters. Specifically, it had failed to institute standard operating procedures to ensure that the logs were accurately recorded; to provide personnel with a clear understanding of the purpose of maintaining the logs; to provide adequate training to duty officers; and to use system audits to ensure that the record was being properly maintained.9 Their findings led the Commission to recommend that the proper maintenance of NDOC logs be ensured by implementing the f o l l o w i n g : 1 0 (a) an audit procedure to ensure that standard operating procedures provide clear and sufficient guidelines on the type of information to be entered and how the information is to be entered; (b) an adequate data base system, which includes software controls to ensure accurate data entry in each field and appropriate training for operators and users of this system; and (c) increased system security to an acceptable standard compatible with the objective of national security, including restricting access to authorized persons using only their own accounts and passwords, and extending the use of secure (hidden) fields to identify persons entering or deleting data. The problems identified by the Commission implicate both the reliability and the authenticity of the NDOC logs. The absence of standard operating procedures for recording entries in the log compromised their reliability while the lack of system audits and security procedures compromised their authenticity. The Commission's recommendations demonstrate the connection that continues to be drawn between the trustworthiness of records and the integrity of procedural controls over their creation and maintenance as well as underscore the increasingly instrumental role technology will play in implementing and enforcing those controls. The findings also imply that legal and historical practitioners will find it more and more difficult to reconstruct past events on the basis of surviving electronic records. Notwithstanding their concern over this prospect, many historians also believe that the computer may actually enhance the authenticity and degree of reliability of records because electronic systems are capable of capturing more of the context in which electronic records are created and used within bureaucratic organizations than was possible with traditional recordkeeping systems. While 0 Ibid., 1219. 9 Ibid., 1244. 1 0 Ibid., 1245. 3 neither the legal nor the historical discipline has identified a comprehensive set of methods for ensuring, or enhancing, the reliability and authenticity of electronic records, both agree that such methods need to be built into the design of electronic information systems. Such need is also a recurring theme in the archival literature since, as preservers of records, archivists have a vested interest in ensuring the creation and maintenance of reliable and authentic records. In recent years, some archivists have undertaken to re-assess and adapt the concepts, principles, and methods of diplomatic science to meet the needs of contemporary recordkeeping. In so doing, they have succeeded in transforming it from a tool for retrospectively assessing the trustworthiness of medieval records into a standard for the creation and maintenance of reliable and authentic electronic records. The purpose of this dissertation is to explore the trustworthiness of records as evidence, both electronic and non-electronic, from the perspectives of law and history, and to examine recent efforts to develop methods for ensuring the trustworthiness of electronic records specifically, based on diplomatic concepts and principles. Its objectives are: 1. to examine the evolution of means of assessing the trustworthiness of records as evidence in law and history; 2. to analyze legal, historical and diplomatic criteria and methods for establishing the trustworthiness of records as evidence; 3. to assess the impact of information technologies on each discipline's methods; and 4. to examine the extent to which these methods are adequate to the task of establishing warranted claims to knowledge about the past. The dissertation is organized into four chapters. The first chapter will trace the evolution of means of assessing the trustworthiness of records as evidence in law and history and will include the birth of diplomatic science in the seventeenth century. The second, third and fourth chapters will analyze the criteria and methods established by law, history, and contemporary archival diplomatics, respectively, for determining the trustworthiness of records in general, and electronic records specifically. The chapter on legal methodology will focus on the rules governing the admissibility of documentary evidence at common law and in Canadian statutory law, i.e., rules relating to modes of authentication, the production of documentary originals (the best evidence rule), and the business records exception to the hearsay rule. To assess the extent to which new technologies for creating and storing records have affected these rules, the chapter will also examine the revisions to"the Canadian 4 Evidence Act proposed by the Uniform Law Conference of Canada to address electronic record issues. The chapter on historical methodology will focus on the checks and controls associated with the analysis of historical sources, i.e., the techniques of external and internal criticism that are designed to test the authenticity and degree of reliability of records in general and organizational records in particular. To assess the impact of new technologies on these techniques, the chapter will also examine two recent court cases that have focussed on electronic record issues and that have involved historians as plaintiffs. The chapter on contemporary archival diplomatics will focus on a research project conducted by a research team at the University of British Columbia aimed at identifying methods for establishing the reliability and authenticity of electronic records based on diplomatic concepts and methods. This project was chosen for two reasons: first, it constitutes the only systematic attempt to explicitly apply archival diplomatics to an electronic recordkeeping environment; secondly, as a member of the research team, I was closely involved in the project from its inception to its conclusion and contributed substantially to its analysis and findings.1 1 Each disciplinary chapter will examine, not only the methods and rules for assessing record trustworthiness but, also, the assumptions and generalizations concerning observation, recording, and bureaucratic recordkeeping that underpin them. Such examination will demonstrate how the criteria for record trustworthiness have changed over time and gauge the extent to which legal, historical, and diplomatic methods for evaluating it are adequate to the task of establishing warranted claims to knowledge about the past. The conclusion will summarize the themes that have emerged in the course of this exploration of record trustworthiness. This dissertation is intended to contribute to scholarly research, not through the discovery of new knowledge but, rather, through its integration and synthesis of existing knowledge. Its general aim is to analyze and present that knowledge in a new way. Its specific aim is to establish a sound historical, conceptual, and interdisciplinary foundation on which to discuss issues surrounding record trustworthiness and its limits. An historical perspective will provide a corrective to the 1 1 Because the UBC research project was a wholly collaborative effort, it is difficult to identify individual contributions to it. For the purposes of clarifying my own role, it is worth pointing out that, in collaboration with the other members of the research team, I defined the concepts and terms used in the project; developed the activity and entity models showing the management of an agency's archival fonds; wrote the procedural rules for those activities; and co-authored or authored the various progress reports and the final project overview. Specific contributions to the UBC project that came about as a consequence of my dissertation research included: the rationale underlying the definition of record used in the project; the evolution of classification and registration as manifestations of the archival bond and as means of establishing record trustworthiness; the rationale underlying the categorization of metadata; and the concept of a trusted third party in electronic data interchange and its connection to the concept of archival custody. 5 narrowly present minded approach frequently taken to technology issues in general and to electronic recordkeeping issues in particular. Donald Davis has observed that an historical understanding, "can help prevent tunnel vision in which one sees only a single goal or problem and is oblivious to the larger picture; it can promote informed knowledge about the context of a situation and reveal the full range of complexities."12 A conceptual focus will facilitate a deeper understanding of the issues by penetrating beneath the surface of particular methods and techniques to reveal their underlying purposes. Finally, an interdisciplinary perspective will promote a more socio-cultural understanding of the history, nature and meaning of electronic records as evidence and provide insights that may not be readily apparent from the limited perspective of the legal, historical or archival disciplines. This will permit, in turn, a more meaningful evaluation of current approaches to, and critiques of, record trustworthiness. If electronic records are to serve as trustworthy evidence, it is in the interest of all three disciplines to become more literate about the nature of electronic records, to identify the kinds of procedural and other controls over record-keeping that are likely to ensure a reasonable degree of trustworthiness, and to recognize the limits of such controls. 1 2 Donald Davis, "Ebla to the Electronic Dream: The Role of Historical Perspectives in Professional Education," Journal of Education for Library and Information Science 39 (Summer 1998): 232. 6 Chapter 1 The Evolution of Methods for Assessing the Trustworthiness of Documentary Evidence: From the Justinian Code to Langlois and Seignobos" Introduction to the Study of History Since antiquity, the need to establish the trustworthiness of records as evidence has been recognized. Many of the concepts and methods associated with record trustworthiness today originated in Roman law. Over the centuries, they were augmented, extended, and transformed as they were gradually incorporated into the common law and the newly emerging discipline of history. By the end of the nineteenth century, these concepts and methods were well established and laid the foundation for the modern methods that will be examined in detail in the following chapters. The purpose of this chapter is to trace the evolution of the main concepts and methods for assessing the trustworthiness of records as evidence during the period of time bracketed by the compilation of the Justinian Code in 529 A.D. and the publication of Langlois and Seignobos' Introduction to the Study of History in 1898. In Roman law, the trustworthiness of records as evidence was embodied in the concepts of perpetual memory and public faith. Luciana Duranti explains the meaning of perpetual memory in the following way: • The most ancient archival documents, either in the original or as transcriptions of lost originals, contain a formula, usually placed at the end of the salutation: in perpetuum, ad perpetuum, or ad perpetuam rei memoham. This formula established the function of the document with respect to the fact it was about. Because only the present can be known, a device was necessary to freeze the fact occurring in the present before it slipped into the past, and the document, as embodiment of the fact, had the function of converting the present into the permanent.1 Perpetual memory was linked originally to records and subsequently to archives. In both cases, the concept was not intended to communicate the idea of eternity or eternal preservation, but, rather, the idea of continuity, stability, endurance, and trustworthiness.2 The preservation of evidence and memory were inextricably linked through the concept of perpetual memory. If perpetual memory expressed the role of a record with respect to the fact it was about, the concept of public faith expressed the role of the archives in relation to the society it served.3 A record endowed with public faith was one capable of constituting 1 Luciana Duranti, "The Concept of Appraisal and Archival Theory," American Archivist 57 (Spring 1994): 331. 2 Ibid. 3 Ibid. 7 proof of whatever it was about and Roman jurists such as Ulpianus asserted that such faith could only be conferred on a record that had been preserved in a public place, i.e., a temple, public office, treasury or archives. In the Justinian Code, archives are defined as " locus publicus in quo instrumenta deponuntui (the public place where records are deposited) often with the addenda 'quatenus incorrupta maneant,' 'fidem faciant,' and 'perpetua rei memoria sit (so that they remain uncorrupted and serve as authentic evidence, and so that a continuing memory of the acts to which they attest be preserved.)"4 Public faith thus referred to the authenticating function of archives. As Duranti explains, depositing records in an archives: was a procedural requirement for all completed acts meant to generate consequences .... In other terms, the requirement existed only for documents of actions intended to create, maintain, modify or extinguish relationships among physical or juridical persons. Such a passage enabled the acts to have continuing effects by endowing them with authenticity. It did not change their nature, but made their reliability enduring by confirming it and guaranteeing its preservation.5 Because archives had the capacity to authenticate records, both public and private, only those "persons or corporations invested with sovereign power had the right to establish one in their own jurisdiction."6 The Roman law of evidence reinforced the privileged status accorded to documents invested with public faith. According to J.T. Abdy, among the means of proof accepted by the Corpus Juris Civilis, "public documents [i.e., documents produced from the custody of, or created by, government officials and therefore invested with public faith] were considered of so high a nature, that not only did they prove themselves, but greater weight was attached to them than was given to any other species of evidence, whether oral or written. On the other hand, private instruments [e.g., letters, memoranda, and all sorts of informal writings] were never admissible, if they were not properly subscribed and witnessed, i.e., by three witnesses". 7 M. Carr Ferguson has identified a third category of document recognized by Roman law, i.e., quasi-public documents, consisting of documents that had been properly notarized. If sufficiently attested, they were ordinarily granted the weight of public documents.8 4 Luciana Duranti, "Medieval Universities and Archives," Archivaria 38 (Fall 1994): 41. 5 Luciana Duranti, "Archives as a Place," Archives and Manuscripts 24 (Nov. 1996): 246-47. 6 Duranti, "Concept of Appraisal," 332. In Roman times and during the early Middle Ages, sovereignty was owned exclusively by the emperor and the pope and by persons to whom they endowed that right, such as notaries. In the thirteenth century, however, sovereignty was extended to monasteries and city-states. Thereafter, continuing custody by a monastery or city-state could endow a document with public faith. 7 J.T. Abdy, A Historical Sketch of Civil Procedure Among the Romans (Cambridge: MacMillan and Co., 1857), 120. 8 M. Carr Ferguson, "A Day in Court in Justinian's Rome: Some Problems of Evidence, Proof, and Justice in Roman Law," Iowa Law Review 46 (1961): 753. 8 Practical rules to ensure the trustworthiness of records and recognize forgeries were also introduced in the Corpus Juris Civilis. Among the titles in the Digest, Code, and Novels dealing with evidence, are rules referring to the authentication of documents (C.4.21.20; Nov. 73), attestation (C.4.21.20; Nov. 73), signatures (C.4.21.17, 20), seals (C.6.22.8), registration (C.4.21.17; Nov. 73.8), comparison of handwriting (C.4.21; Nov. 49.2; Nov. 73), the requirement to produce documentary originals (D.22.4.2), the protocols necessary in notarial documents, and the regulations affecting notaries (Nov. 44), the faith reposing in public and quasi public documents (D.22.3.10; C.2.1.2, 6; C.4.21.4, 17, 20; C.7.52.6; C.8.18.11; Nov. 17.47.1; Nov. 49.2), and forgery (C.9.22; Nov. 8 0 . 7 ) . 9 The problem of forgery appears to have been widespread in Roman times. Duranti observes that, The problem of distinguishing genuine documents from forgeries was present in the earliest periods of documentation, but until the sixth century no attempt was made to devise criteria for the identification of forgeries. Even legislators did not demonstrate interest in the issue basically because of the legal principle commonly accepted in the ancient world that authenticity is not an intrinsic character of documents but is accorded to them by the fact of their preservation in a public place, a temple, public office, treasury, or archives.1 0 However, when private persons began to deposit false records in public archives to lend them public faith, it became necessary to introduce a number of sanctions to ensure the authenticity of records. According to Ferguson, three different methods of preventing forgery are discernible. The first guard against forgery was the requirement that documents of a public or quasi-public nature be executed with great formality, sealed with wax in such a way that the document could not be altered, and witnessed by several responsible witnesses. The second guard applied primarily to private documents whose genuineness was disputed by one of the parties. In such cases, "the question was resolved by a comparison of handwriting with a genuine specimen ...A required minimum of three handwriting experts gave their opinions after taking the oaths of impartiality". 1 1 A final deterrent "was the punishment of forgery or any concealing, destruction, or falsification of documents under the lex Cornelia. Punishment could range in various cases from corporal punishment to death, depending on the rank of the accused and the nature of the forgery." 1 2 9 Cited by C A . Morrison, "Some Features of the Roman and the English Law of Evidence," Tulane Law Review 33 (1956): 579-80. 1 0 Luciana Duranti, "Diplomatics: New Uses for an Old Science [Part I]," Archivaria 28 (Summer 1989): 12 (hereafter cited as "Diplomatics I"). 1 1 Ferguson, "Day in Court," 755-56. 12 Ibid., 755-56; see also ibid., 770. 9 The concept of public faith thus was expanded to include the preparation of records in accordance with legally prescribed forms to permit public officials to determine their authenticity. The significance that now attached to documentary form had a number of consequences. First, it created a need for expertise in the compilation of certain legal documents, out of which grew the notarial profession. Secondly, only original documents or authenticated copies of those documents were granted any probative capacity. This adaptation reveals the roots of the common law's "best evidence" rule as it still relates to the production of documents. Thirdly, creators of records began to separate documents prepared by notaries in accordance with prescribed forms from other documents. A split between the so-called "archives treasure," consisting of the documents embodying completed acts and endowed with public faith, and the "archives sediment," consisting of the documents generated in the routine conduct of affairs, became increasingly apparent. The former were consciously set aside and preserved as continuing proof of past events; the latter were allowed to accumulate and eventually disappear.1 3 As a consequence of this split, public faith gradually extended to documents kept in secure custody over a long period of time. According to the Roman jurist Tertullianus, antiquity provided records with the highest authority because the more removed the records were, in the past, from the facts to which they attested, the more impartial they could be considered. Their trustworthiness derived from the fact that they were not generated for a present purpose. This "antiquity" criterion of public faith survives today as the ancient document rule in evidence law. 1 4 The middle ages inherited many of these legal concepts, though they necessarily underwent some adaptation. While public archives continued to perform an authenticating function, their number diminished between the fourth and the ninth centuries. During that period "only the papal archives survived as a major public repository."1 5 Thomas Noble suggests that, "one of the characteristics of the transition from Roman to mediaeval times was a ...change in probative value from the public document in the archives to the private copy in the hands of the recipient."1 6 As a consequence, the trustworthiness of a record came, increasingly, to depend on its method of compilation and the authority of its writer. In Italy and the countries of written law bordering on the Mediterranean, the highest degree of trustworthiness was conferred on documents compiled by notaries. Since Roman times, it had been accepted that records created by and maintained in the custody of a person endowed with public faith by a sovereign authority were capable of The distinction between the archives treasure and the archives sediment corresponds to the distinction M.T. Clanchy draws between documents, which were created for ephemeral purposes, and records, which were intended to be preserved for posterity. See M.T. Clanchy, From Memory to Written Record: England 1066-1307, 2nd ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1993), 145. 1 4 Duranti, "Concept of Appraisal," 332-33. 1 5 Thomas F.X. Noble, "Literacy and the Papal Government in Late Antiquity and the Early Middle Ages," in The Uses of Literacy in Early Medieval Europe, ed. Rosamund McKitterick (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1990), 89 10 making public faith. Notaries (tabelliones in Roman times) were endowed with such faith and invested with the competence for both compiling and preserving authentic documents. Despite the erosion of much of the apparatus of central government in the post-imperial period, a professional notariate seems to have continued to exist, or at least re-emerged, by the ninth century in Italy.1 7 According to Peter Burke: From the eleventh century, if not before, Italy - or at least, the many towns of the north and centre - was becoming what might reasonably be called a 'notarial culture', with a high proportion of notaries in the population (eight per 1,000 in Florence in 1427), thanks to the high demand for the registration of wills, contracts of marriage, apprenticeship and partnership, and other legal 'acts' and 'instruments.' Italy was not alone in this respect. The notarial culture seems to have extended over much of the Mediterranean Christian world in the later Middle Ages. 1 8 By the middle of the twelfth century, the growing demand for notaries who, in addition to running their own businesses, held positions in the papal and imperial chanceries and in the offices of city-states, resulted in the establishment of a course of study in notarial arts at the University of Bologna. The compilation of documents and, thus, methods of authentication, became standardized across much of Europe as a consequence. During the same century, Armando Petrucci observes, "the private document drafted by a notary underwent a profound transformation from the charta, whose credibility as legal proof rested on the subscriptions to the text, to the instrumentum, which had the force of legal proof because it was drafted by a professional invested with public fides."™ The validity of a notarial document derived, not only from the authority of the notary who compiled it, but, also, from the technical form of its composition. The signing and dating of documents provided specific indicators of their authenticity. According to M.T. Clanchy, "a notary provided safeguards against forgery usually by writing the document in his own hand and by appending to it his name and an individual signum which he drew with a pen. If dispute arose, the notary could be cross-examined or, if he were dead, reference could be made to other documents signed by him or to a register in which an exemplar of his style and signum was recorded."2 0 In addition, each document was precisely dated by the year, month, day, and, for some transactions, even the hour, at which it was issued or received, as well as the place at which it was issued or received, for the purpose of settling potential subsequent disputes about its authenticity. The fact that a notary signed a document did not mean that the statements 1 1 Wendy Davies and Paul Fouracre, eds., The Settlement of Disputes in Early Medieval Europe (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 210. Peter Burke, "The Uses of Literacy in Early Modem Italy," in The Social History of Language, ed. Peter Burke and Roy Porter (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 23. 1 9 Armando Petrucci, "The Illusion of Authentic History," in Writers and Readers in Medieval Italy: Studies in the History of Written Culture, ed. and trans. Charles M. Radding (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 243. 2 0 Clanchy, Memory to Written Record, 304-305. 11 in it were true in themselves, simply that they were considered to be true in the eyes of the law.2 1 By the end of the twelfth century, the notarial system had extended from Italy to southern France and become firmly established in those regions. It extended as well to some parts of northern France, notably Flanders and Normandy and somewhat later, notaries began to establish themselves in Germany. But their influence in these regions was restricted. The notarial system also began to appear in England in the thirteenth century, but here too, it remained a foreign custom and notaries were usually only employed in the drawing up of certain restricted types of diplomatic documents and certain types of private contracts of an international character. 2 2 In those countries that did not adopt the notarial system, the affixing of a seal was the most generally used method of authenticating documents. The sealing or signing of a document by its sender or promulgator had been the two most important methods of documentary validation since Roman times. The practice of using seals for this purpose fell away in the period of the German conquests, and was limited for several centuries to the royal chancelleries. It was revived, however, during the eleventh century and flourished between the twelfth and fifteenth centuries. The rise of the seal ushered in a new era for written documents. According to Arthur Giry: The seals of sovereigns, barons, prelates, churches, and municipalities were from the very beginning used to guarantee the authenticity, not only of those instruments in which the owner of the seal bound himself or was otherwise a party; but also of all documents to which it was desired to give (in legal phraseology) an "authentic" character - including contracts and deeds of private persons (other than the owner of the seal). It was natural, particularly in the regions where notaries public were unknown, for such private persons to have recourse, when executing documents that affected legal rights, to those superior authorities whose seals could give authenticity to the document. 2 3 ^ Ibid., 305. 2 2 For a detailed study of the role of notaries in England during the thirteenth and fourteenth centuries, see C R . Cheney, Notaries Public in England in the Thirteenth and Fourteenth Centuries (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1972). For their role in England since the reformation, see C W . Brooks, R.H. Hemholz and P.G. Stein, Notaries Public in England Since the Reformation (London: Erskine Press, 1991). 2 3 Arthur Giry, Manuel de Diplomatique, trans, and quoted in John Henry Wigmore in Evidence in Trials at Common Law, vol. 7, edited and revised by James H. Chadbourn (Boston: Little, Brown, 1978), para. 2161. 12 In law, a clear distinction was drawn between the seals of superior authorities and those of merely private persons. As Giry points out, although a private person could use his own personal seal to indicate his personal sanction or liability on private letters, receipts, and so on: deeds or like instruments, which bore no other mark of validation than the seal of a private individual were not deemed to be drawn in "public form" and were treated in law as merely "documents under private signet," as the modern expression has it. ...Ever since the beginning of the 1200s we find the laws and treatises using the expression "authentic seal" ("sigillum authenticum"); under this term the lawyers recognized only the seals of persons or groups having a legal jurisdictional authority, viz., sovereigns, feudal lords, bishops, churches, and municipalities. " 2 4 The vogue of the seal eventually diminished after the fifteenth century with the rise of the written signature and the use of paper as a writing material. From the twelfth century onwards, written proof had become widespread, even in agreements between ordinary people and methods for ensuring its legal trustworthiness were well established. Nevertheless, the evidential capacity of written proof, i.e., its ability to establish a fact in an actual legal dispute, remained a matter of some debate in both Roman-canonical law and customary law. In the system of legal proofs that emerged in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries as part of the transformation of the law of evidence, public documents were accorded full proof in a court of law; private documents were accorded half-proof. A public document was supposed to prove itself, i.e., provided that it gave no indication of falsification, its contents were accepted as valid in the absence of proof to the contrary. The proviso, however, was a significant one. As Levy explains it: Two opposing tendencies emerge in the twelfth century; one of them favoring written proof and distrusting testimony because of the fallibility of human memory ...; the other, to the opposite effect. The latter view prevailed. Between 1206 and 1209, a decretal of Innocent III gave the preference to depositions of four witnesses over the provisions of a notarized document confirmed by the declarations of a notary.2 5 The principle that oral testimony prevailed over written proof passed into the customary law and was expressed in sayings such as 'witnesses prevail over letters' or 'viva voce witnesses overcome letters.' Levy attributes the distrust of written proof to the fact that, Ibid. For a more detailed history of the seal, see Thomas Frederick Tout, "The King's Seal and Sealing as a Means of Authentication," in Chapters in the Administrative History of Mediaeval England: the Wardrobe, the Chamber and the Small Seals (New York: Barnes & Noble, [1967]). 2 5 Jean-Phillipe Levy, "The Evolution of Written Proof," American University Law Review 13 (1964): 146. 13 in the Middle Ages, in the learned Roman-canon law, the written document was seen as a kind of testimony. According to Levy, "canonists of the twelfth and thirteenth centuries, post-glossators of the fourteenth, call 'attestationes,' or even 'testimonia' what are in reality only written documents."2 6 Viewed from that perspective, documents clearly constituted an inferior form of proof because they could not be interrogated in the way a witness could be: The truth is that for the men of the Middle Ages, written proof, as in the case of proof by testimony, is two different kinds of one and the same type of proof the nature of which is testimony. But while in the one case the witnesses are living and present, in the other case they are absent and as if dead. One speaks of the "vox mortua instrumentorum" which is opposed to the living voice of witnesses. A true witness can be examined face to face; one can question him, notice whether he hesitates or vacillates, if he flushes, if he grows pale: one can ask him the source of his knowledge of the facts.... Furthermore, several witnesses, two at least, are necessary, and their statements must agree; while a written document remains impassive. The parchment on which it is inscribed is "only the skin of a dead beast" on which "the pen of the scrivener can note anything." 2 7 The distrust of documentary modes of proof was understandable, given that many medieval charters were forged and the authenticity of genuine ones was often difficult to prove. Medieval forgeries are difficult to evaluate because although in many cases, both the document and the information in it were spurious, in other cases, while the document itself was spurious, its contents could well have been accurate in the essentials of the information recorded. Clanchy has described the forgery or "renewal" of documents during the medieval period as a product of the cultural transition "from oral memory to written record." Monks were among the most prolific fabricators of charters, a fact Clanchy attributes partly to the monastic tradition and its preoccupation with posterity.2 8 Forgeries represented an attempt by monastic charter makers to fill the gaps and correct r the anomalies in written record which kings and other past benefactors appeared to have negligently left. It was the responsibility of the beneficiaries and not of the donor to see that adequate documents were supplied. In the non-literate past, people had been accustomed to the flexibility of speech and memory and they applied similar criteria at first to written record. A charter was inaccurate and should be corrected if it failed to give the beneficiary a privilege which the donor had obviously Ibid., 1 4 5 . Ibid., 1 4 7 - 4 8 . C l a n c h y , Memory to Written Record, 1 4 6 - 4 9 . 14 intended it to have, had he still been alive to express his wishes. Writing, or the lack of it, should not be allowed to annul or invalidate previous pious gifts. From this point of view 'forgery' is an inappropriate term to apply to renewals of evidence which were intended to ensure that a monastic house was adequately provided with charters to defend its patrons and saints against rivals. ...where there was doubt they were determined to establish the truth for posterity. By truth about the past they meant what really should have happened. For a monastic house there was a providential truth, which was higher than the random f a c t s . 2 9 Viewed from this perspective, monastic forgery - the manufacture of evidence to serve the purposes of posterity - constitutes a creative adaptation of the Roman concept of perpetual memory. Rules for the prevention and detection of forgery had been introduced by canon lawyers in Italy and were widely known throughout Europe. In a summa dating from the last quarter of the twelfth century, Huguccio, the best canonical authority on forgeries, recommended that, where there was doubt about the authenticity of a decretal, the papal registers should first be consulted.3 0 The papal chancery had begun to keep registers containing the unabridged transcription of the most important records created in the chancery from around the fourth century. The registration of documents was modelled on Roman imperial practice and served the purposes of perpetual memory by preserving evidence of the positions the papacy had taken and that it might need to refer to in the future. If the document could not be found in the papal registers (a common occurrence since only the most important documents were registered), other tests with regard to "the style and substance of the text, the physical characteristics of the parchment, the bulla and its attaching thread" were recommended. These rules "were subsequently promulgated generally by Innocent III, who had been Huguccio's pupil at Bologna. " 3 1 These rules were difficult to enforce however, particularly in England, where there were no systematic registers of ecclesiastical documents. Instead, English canonist glossators "recommended testing forgeries by the customary oral method of swearing oaths and producing witnesses."3 2 Moreover, even Innocent III is known to have been deceived at least on one occasion by forged papal bulls. In a case in the Roman curia in 1205, Thomas of Marlborough, abbot of Evesham, submitted, as evidence of a claim, two papal bulls in the name of Constantine I, who had been pope from 708 to 715, The bishop of Worcester challenged the bulls on the grounds that 2 M Ibid, 322,149. 3 0 Ibid., 323. 3 1 Ibid., 233-24. Innocent Ill's measures for the prevention and detection of forgery are described in Reginald L. Poole, Lectures on the History of the Papal Chancery Down to the Time of Innocent III (Cambridge: The University Press, 1915), 151-60. 2 Clanchy, Memory to Written Record, 324. 15 they were '"forgeries in parchment and script, thread and bulla.'" The documents were then handed to Innocent III who felt the parchment, tugged on the bulla and thread and, on the basis of that physical examination, pronounced the bulls genuine. According to Clanchy, "the papal judgment in Evesham's favour encouraged Thomas to copy the bulls of Constantine I ...into his chronicle for future reference. The copies demonstrate that the bulls were undoubtedly forged and ...it is likely that [Thomas] had played a major part in deceiving the pope." 3 4 The case "suggests that, although by 1200 the papal curia had developed rules for detecting forgeries of recent decretals, it had no effective means of checking documents which claimed to be hundreds of years old." Clanchy observes: neither the papal curia nor lesser courts had anything to gain by scrutinizing forged charters with strict regularity. Decisions had to be reached in cases even when both parties produced forged documents. Conventions seem to have existed among the higher clergy within which forgery, while not being openly approved of or acknowledged, was at least tolerated. Every ruler in Europe, from the pope downwards, had suspect title-deeds if historically authentic writings were to become the yardstick of authority.3 5 As Clanchy makes clear, "it was not that literate standards of documentation were unknown, but rather that they could not be uniformly or readily applied to particular cases, because literate ways of doing business were still too novel." 3 6 In legal disputes, therefore, parties continued to rely heavily on the authority and the testimony of witnesses in order to establish the authenticity of documents making political or religious claims. The discovery of a coherent and internally consistent method for assessing the trustworthiness of documents created in a past for which there were no living witnesses depended upon a scholarly awareness of the difference between the past and the present and on the capacity of documents to reveal historical facts as well as legal facts. Movement in this direction is discernible from around the fifteenth century with the emergence of Renaissance humanism. As Donald Kelley explains: Renaissance humanism represented not merely new knowledge of and new appreciation for classical antiquity ...but a major reorientation in thought. What happened, in brief, was that the mere problem of gaining access to the past began to supersede the problem of how to make use of it. Increasingly, scholars were struck by the distance and the disparity between themselves and men of former ages. ...Even those humanists who ...tended to idealize antiquity could not avoid the fact of historical change, so conspicuously reflected in the vicissitudes of literary style, 3 3 Ibid. 3 4 Ibid. 3 5 Ibid, 325 3 6 Ibid. 16 social customs, and religious practices. ...Wrestling with this anthropological dilemma ...led them toward what was, in effect, a principle of cultural relativity.3 7 Philology, a creature of Renaissance humanism, provided a specific impetus to the elaboration of a more sophisticated method for determining the trustworthiness of a document, based on an assessment of the plausibility of its content relative to the legal, historical, and social context in which it was generated. By focussing scholarly attention on the language, form and historical context of documents, philologists "established a new logos upon the assumption that language reproduced, if it did not actually create, the configurations of r e a l i t y . " 3 8 The establishment of the new logos was a result of a new respect for particular facts and for original sources. Though their understanding of them was limited, philologists introduced the concepts of cultural context and anachronism into scholarly discourse. Lorenzo Valla's critique of canon law and, in particular, his exposure of the fraudulent Donation of Constantine, the cornerstone of papal supremacy, is one of the most famous examples of philological criticism in the fifteenth century.3 9 The history of the donation is neatly summarized by Olga Zorzi Pugliese: it was an age-old belief that the Emperor Constantine the Great (d.337) had donated temporal power to Sylvester I, Bishop of Rome (314-55), after recovering from leprosy. This gift, supposedly granted back in the fourth century, was the justification many popes of the late Middle Ages had cited, either sincerely or through guile, for their intervention in political affairs and their claim to the right to investiture. However, the document reporting the alleged donation, that is the Constitutum Constantini charter, was actually drawn up in the eighth century, probably in Rome, and an abridged version of it was incorporated into Church law, through Palea's interpolations, four hundred years later in the mid-twelfth century. The document consisted of a series of declarations which Constantine supposedly made in the year 313; in them he stated the primacy of the Church of Rome and of its head, declared the power of the pope to be superior to that of the emperor, announced his decision to transfer the Donald R. Kelley, Foundations of Modern Historical Scholarship: Language, Law and History in the French Renaissance (New York: Columbia University Press, 1970), 23-24. 3 8 Ibid., 24. 3 9 A noteworthy example from the fourteenth century is Francesco Petrarch's analysis, in 1355, of the authenticity of a privilege granted by Caesar Augustus and Nero in the first century, exempting Austria from the jurisdiction of Emperor Charles IV. Petrarch identified a number of anachronisms in the document that proved the document was a forgery. See Peter Burke, The Renaissance Sense of the Past (New York: St. Martin's Press, 1970), 50-54. 17 seat of the empire to Byzantium, and granted land and other privileges to Sylvester. 4 0 Earlier scholars had questioned the legality of the donation but Valla's The Falsely- Believed and Forged Donation of Constantine, published in 1440, provided the most definitive and exhaustive proof that the document was fraudulent and that the donation had never been made. Apart from his conclusion, what is most striking about Valla's treatise is the philological means by which he argued his case. Almost one-third of the treatise is devoted to a careful analysis of the text of the donation document. His analysis uncovers a number of cultural anachronisms, linguistic discrepancies, and geographical oddities. For example, the charter refers to the pope's bejewelled diadem when, in fact, silk caps were still worn by pontiffs at the time; the word datum (given or dated) appears in a closing phrase of the text, when such usage was reserved for the drafting of letters to be delivered to a specific addressee; the charter makes mention of Constantinople even though the city had not yet been founded and at that time the site was known as Byzantium.4 1 Valla also discovered examples of implausible linguistic practice, such as the use of the word satraps, to describe the political organization of the Empire; the word would have been alien to the vocabulary employed in the fourth century.4 2 Valla also drew attention to the charter's narrative structure which is reminiscent of the biblical story of Naaman the Syrian who, upon being cured by Elisha, offers him gifts, a resemblance which suggests the charter's mythical quality.4 3 Finally, Valla finds reason for suspicion in the fact that the text itself is located in the interpolations rather than in the body of Gratian's Decretum (the collection of Church laws). The charter is nowhere to be found in the oldest compilations of Church l a w . 4 4 Apart from the internal evidence provided by the language and form of the charter text, Valla discovers a dearth of external documentation that would support the view that the donation had taken place. Historical works written at the time made no mention of the event. As Valla declares, "Let all the Latin and Greek histories be consulted, let all the other authors who mention this period be cited: you will not find a single discrepancy regarding this matter ...[the] historian would not have kept silent about the donation of the Western Empire had it taken place." 4 5 Nor, argued Valla, had any commemorative coins come down: "If ever you had ruled over Rome, an infinite number of coins would be found commemorating the Supreme Pontiffs, whereas none " u Olga Zorzi Pugliese, "Introduction," in Lorenzo Valla, The Profession of the Religious and Selections from The Falsely Believed and Forged Donation of Constantine, edited and translated by Olga Zorzi Pugliese, 2 n d ed. (Toronto: Centre for Reformation Studies, 1994), 23. 4 1 Ibid., 24-25. 4 2 Ibid., 25. 4 3 Ibid., 25. 4 4 Ibid., 24. 4 5 Valla, Donation of Constantine, 101, IX, 3 1 . 18 are to be found either of gold or silver, and no one remembers having seen any." Valla also puts forward legal arguments, asserting that the donation was contrary to human and divine law as well as to human nature since rulers invariably aim at enlarging their territory rather than giving it away. From the point of view of verisimilitude and common sense, therefore, the donation lacked plausibility.4 7 Donald Kelley summarizes the key components of the philological paradigm that emerges through Valla's treatise as follows: First, ...Valla demanded a return to human "reality," for he was convinced that knowledge could be attained only through the examination of particular things. ...In the second place, Valla called for a return to original sources; for style was an organic part of doctrine, and antiquity had to be allowed to speak in its own inimitable accents. ...Lastly, and inevitably, Valla adopted an attitude that was both pluralistic and relativistic. Every age had literally to be understood in its own terms, and truth could no more be separated from its cultural environment, or from its cultural style, than form could be separated from matter. Thus Valla's method was fundamentally comparative as well as historical. Valla's historical thought was founded, in short, upon the recognition of a principle of individuality, of a determinable process of temporal change, and of a kind of cultural relativism.4 8 Valla's treatise proved that textual criticism could "erode or even destroy the claim to authority for a document which for centuries had been accepted despite some doubts. A single scholar could now cast doubt even on essential parts of tradition."4 9 From that point forward, philology, or source criticism, became an increasingly accepted means of determining the trustworthiness of historical documents and is intimately connected to the beginnings of a critical historical method. 5 0 Some of the most significant developments in the evolution of the historical method occurred in the context of the flowering of historical legal studies. Academic jurists of the sixteenth century, especially those of France, were deeply influenced by humanism in general and philology in particular. Jean Bodin's writings on the principles of public law, for example, were based on a historical "comparison and synthesis of all the juridical experience of all the most famous states."5 1 As Bodin and others turned to * Ibid., 101-2, IX, 32. 4 7 Pugliese, "Introduction," 25-26. 4 8 Kelley, Foundations of Modern Scholarship, 45-6. 4 9 Ernst Breisach, Historiography Ancient, Medieval, and Modern, 2 n d ed. (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1994), 161. 5 0 Interestingly, Valla's treatise was not itself viewed as an historical controversy but, rather as a legal one. According to Julian Franklin, "the issue was less narration of the past as such than the present jurisdiction of the Church." Julian H. Franklin, Jean Bodin and the Sixteenth-Century Revolution in the Methodology of Law and History (New York: Columbia University Press, 1963), 121. 5 1 Ibid., 2 19 the sources of the past, questions about the trustworthiness of those sources, inevitably, were raised: questions concerning the types of sources and their relative authority, the tests of documentary authenticity, and the indications of an author's biases. Aspects of these questions had certainly been discussed earlier but it was only with the juristic revolution that these questions were systematically related and developed as a methodology of criticism.5 2As Barbara Shapiro notes, "[b]oth as historians and lawyers, French scholars searched for reliable witnesses and sought to date documents and assess the good faith, knowledge, and credibility of those who initially had prepared t h e m . " 5 3 The trustworthiness of historical sources was challenged most strenuously by the Pyrrhonists, a group of radical skeptics who questioned the very grounds of historical belief. 5 4 The Pyrrhonists believed that historical knowledge was not possible because all such knowledge was filtered through unreliable sources. The sources of unreliability, they argued, were manifold: a witness to an event who is a participant in that event might be able to provide more accurate detail about it, its underlying motives, and so on, but he is likely to be partial since he is a participant in that event. On the other hand, a witness who is not a participant in the event has the advantage of disinterestedness but the disadvantage of not possessing any privileged access to the event. The Pyrrhonist attacks on the grounds for historical belief were, fundamentally, attacks on the trustworthiness of historical sources as testimonies of past events. As Jacques Le Goff reminds us, the importance of testimony to historical methodology can be traced back to Greco-Roman antiquity and, more specifically, to Herodotus, for whom "testimony par excellence is personal testimony, the kind in which the historian can say: 'I saw, I heard'": ...the "great" historians of Greco-Roman antiquity dealt exclusively or preferentially with the recent past. After Herodotus, Thucydides wrote the history of the Peloponnesian War, a contemporary event, Xenophon dealt with the Spartan and Theban hegemonies, which he had witnessed firsthand (404-362 B.C.), Polybius devoted his Histories chiefly to the period from the Second Punic War (218 B.C.) to his own time (c. 145 B.C.), Sallust and Livy did the same, Tacitus went back to ^ Ibid., 4. 5 3 Shapiro, (see introduction, n. 2), 164. 5 4 Franklin traces the roots of historical pyrrhonism back to the sixteenth century and the writings of Cornelius Agrippa and Francesco Patrizzi. Arnaldo Momigliano situates it in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries and the writings of La Mothe Le Vayer, Pierre Bayle and Daniel Huet. See Franklin, Jean Bodin and the Sixteenth Century Revolution, 89-102; Arnaldo Momigliano, "Ancient History and the Antiquarian," Studies in Historiography (London: Weidenfeld and Nicolson, 1966), 10- 13. Accounts of historical pyrrhonism and its influence may also be found in Paul Hazard, The European Mind, trans. J. Lewis May (Cleveland: World Publishing Co., [1963]), Chapter II, passim and J.G.A. Pocock, The Ancient Constitution and the Feudal Law: English Historical Thought in the Seventeenth Century, 2 n d ed. (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 6-8. 20 the century preceding his own and Ammianus Marcellinus was interested especially in the second half of the fourth century. Nevertheless, from the fifth century B.C. onward, ancient historians were capable of collecting good documentation on the past, but that did not prevent them from being primarily interested in contemporary or recent e v e n t s . 5 5 It is not surprising, then, that, in secular history, the rules of historical method that began to emerge in the sixteenth century focused on the trustworthiness of earlier chroniclers of history both as witnesses and as recorders of events. The most significant contributions to historical method during this period were made by the academic jurists Francois Baudouin and Jean Bodin who articulated rudimentary rules for establishing the authenticity and reliability of historical sources. Baudouin believed that "historical studies must be placed upon a solid foundation of law ...and jurisprudence must be joined to history." 5 6 Consequently, the rules he formulated were based on contemporary legal practice. As Baudouin explains: In court ...viva voce evidence is normally demanded because it can be subjected to direct interrogation; in history, conversely, and "especially in one which is not of our age," the characteristic form of information is a "testimony" not a "testifier." But although written information is peculiarly historical, it is not necessarily ruled out of court ...Indeed, in the special case of public records, it is not only admitted by the lawyer, but may even be preferred to oral testimony. The evidence of history, accordingly, may be justified by legal practice. But this is only on condition that it conform to the rules on written instruments.5 7 Baudouin further points out that, in a court of law, when a witness' statement is read rather than delivered orally, it must be presented verbatim and intact since any alteration or suppression would amount to a dictation of his testimony. He referred to the fact that, in the probate of contracts, wills, and other acts, the original signed document is preferred to a copy and must be produced if it is extant (the best evidence rule). The inference Baudouin draws from these legal rules to history is that "derivative accounts" must be completely excluded in favour of the "source" or what he calls "archetype." The juriconsults, certainly, when it is a matter of the faith and probity of instruments, do not stop at what are called exemplars, but require the authentica or 'archetypes.' And shall we, in the question of some ancient Jacques Le Goff, History and Memory, trans. Steven Rendall and Elizabeth Claman. (New York: Columbia University Press, 1992), 185,186. 5 6 Quoted by Kelley, Foundations of Modern Scholarship, 116. 5 7 Franklin, Jean Bodin and the Sixteenth Century Revolution, 126 21 history, prefer more recent witnesses to those who were very ancient and classic, so to speak? And shall a secondary and interpolated narrative be of greater credit than the first and the intact?5 8 The general principle underlying the rule requiring the privileging of the account closest to the event, is, as Baudouin puts it, that: the newer and more recent a narration of the past, the more mendacious it normally becomes. For as wine grows weaker the more it is diluted, and at last becomes devoid of taste, as a rumour, the longer it progresses, recedes even further from the truth and constantly increases in its falsity, so a history, which has been tossed about in many repetitions, and besprinkled with the words of many versions, will often be at last contaminated, and thus degenerate to f a b l e . 5 9 In making such an assertion, Baudouin draws an historical analogy to the legal rule excluding hearsay testimony although he accepts that in history, as in law, it may be necessary to accept the testimony of secondary witnesses if no alternative exists or if the author is considered judicious and not too distant from the e v e n t . 6 0 In his assessment of Baudouin's contribution to critical historical method, Julian Franklin suggests that Baudouin's criticism shows "the beginnings of an operationally significant distinction between original and secondary documents."6 1 His conception of what constitutes trustworthy historical evidence, however, is still fairly crude, as Franklin makes clear: Baudouin, to begin with, does not distinguish, in the general class of original materials, between original narrative relations, in which events are consciously interpreted, and documentary records or "remains," in which transactions are more likely to be noted unreflectively, and hence often with more reliability. It is true, of course, that, like Bodin and other authors of the period, he is enormously impressed by "public monuments," by which are meant official records. ...The official monuments are generally regarded [however]...as narrative in different form. And insofar as he accords them special status, the ground is not the distinction between documentary remains and narrative relation but between a publicly attested history and a version which is merely private. For the sixteenth century, therefore, the ideal type of source is still the literary narrative.6 2 3 0 Quoted mibid., 128. 59 Ibid. 6 0 Ibid., 129. 61 Ibid., 130. 62 Ibid., 130-31. Franklin points out in a footnote that "in the sixteenth century public records are normally regarded as perpetual annals in which the recording of all significant occurrences is the official charge of special commissioners, preferably priests. The official, sometimes sacerdotal, 22 Baudouin's privileging of public documents over private o n e s harkens back to Roman a n d early C h u r c h law w h i c h also conferred a higher d e g r e e of trustworthiness on public d o c u m e n t s . 6 3 Baudouin's w o r k is also flawed by the fact that he treats the distinction between a n early a n d late narrative a n d the identification of a prime observer as self-evident w h e n , in fact, t h e s e c a n often only be established by a systematic comparison of versions since many sources w e r e undated and the relationship a m o n g various testimonies complex. Moreover, as Franklin points out, Baudouin assumes: that t h e distinction b e t w e e n prime and derivative accounts is a n aspect of entire works, as t h o u g h the w h o l e of any secondary history w e r e directly b o r r o w e d f r o m a single older version a n d so o n back to t h e "first a n d the intact." But a derivative account may sometimes be c o m p o s e d from several sources, a n d e v e n in contemporary narratives the individual assertions m a y often be derivative, so that, strictly speaking, the distinction b e t w e e n original a n d secondary should be applied to statements, not to entire w o r k s . 6 4 Notwithstanding its limitations a n d lack of refinement, Baudouin's a p p r o a c h to source criticism signals t h e beginnings of "an impressive system of external or preliminary c r i t i c i s m . " 6 5 status, together with the fact that they are 'open to inspection,' is what gives them special authority." (Franklin, 141, n. 48). In De Institutione Historiae Universae, Baudouin refers approvingly to the Roman and early Church custom of preserving monuments of "uncorrupted faith" in archives as a means of ensuring their trustworthiness. 6 3 Assertions of the continuing validity of the preferential rule for public documents can be found throughout the previous centuries. One of the strongest statements is found, ironically, in a book of forgeries published in 1498 by Annius of Viterbo. Annius published a series of annotated texts on the earliest periods of ancient history. The texts, which included annals of the Babylonian and Persian monarchies, as well as of the Greek and Roman empires, were soon exposed as forgeries. In his accompanying commentary on the texts, Annius claimed to have discovered infallible criteria for discriminating between true and false documents based on his assertion of the annals' authenticity. In De locis theologicis, Cano summarizes Annius' rules as follows: "The first rule ... is this. All those are to be accepted without argument who have written in public and attested faith (quipublica et probata fide scripserunf). Second, the acts and annals of the four monarchies can be rejected or denied by no one, because they were noted down exclusively in public faith, and were preserved in libraries and archives. ... The third rule is that those who write only from hearsay or opinion are to be rejected as mere private persons unless they are not in disagreement with the public attestation. From which it follows that no one is to be accepted as a chronicler unless he is in harmony with the annals of the four monarchies." Cano, De locis theologicis, quoted by Franklin, Bodin and the Sixteenth Century Revolution, 122, n. 21. As Franklin points out, Annius claimed to have acquired his texts from two Armenian monks and may have believed the texts to be authentic. 6 4 Franklin, Bodin and the Sixteenth Century Revolution, 132-33. 6 5 to/d.,133. 23 Baudouin's contribution lay, primarily, in his elaboration of methods for evaluating the authenticity of an historical source. Jean Bodin's contribution, on the other hand, lay in his elaboration of methods for evaluating the reliability of the authors of historical sources. In Methodus ad facilem histoharum cognitionem, Bodin identifies a number of rules and standards for identifying a good historian and for determining the circumstances under which he may be trusted. Though they underwent some considerable re-statement, Bodin's rules were based on ones originally laid down by Polybius who maintained that "the good historian ...must be reliably informed as to the facts, which means ...that he must have either witnessed them himself or directly questioned persons who were present." 6 6 However, unlike Polybius, or Baudouin for that matter, Bodin gives tacit authority to a secondary author on the grounds that he is more detached from the event and, therefore, a more trustworthy source. As Bodin states it, "[a] historian of somewhat later date is in a better position to speak frankly and is somewhat less susceptible to bias than one who was too close to the event."6 7 From Bodin's perspective, an author's reliability derives more from his research habits, i.e., his willingness to go to the sources and his sense of obligation in reporting them correctly, than it does from his proximity to the event. Bodin recognized that all historians, even good ones, are susceptible to bias. Among the potential sources of bias he identifies are patriotism, religious faith, attachment to a cause, self-interest, self-aggrandisement, and fear, any of which may compromise the trustworthiness of the author's account of events. The biases Bodin cites are analogous to those cited by the Pyrrhonists in their skeptical attacks on history. But whereas the Pyrrhonists found in such biases "indications of complete depravity and ...the sole motivations from which history is written," Bodin treated them as psychologically n o r m a l . 6 8 Moreover, unlike the Pyrrhonists, he balanced his account of the various circumstances in which bias may be expected with an enumeration of circumstances in which bias is unlikely to occur. Accounts which do not implicate the author's interests one way or another or which contain admissions in conflict with his interests, for example, are presumed to be less b i a s e d . 6 9 In Franklin's estimation, Bodin's critique represents a clear theoretical advance beyond the generalities of Baudouin: For [Baudouin], as for the skeptics, an historian is either "good" or "bad" as such, and his willingness to tell the truth is either to be accepted or rejected as a whole. It is correctly recognized, of course, that a good historian is only a "probable" authority, and that his particular assertions are not to be followed if implausible. But his authority as such, being a judgement of his total personality, creates the same presumption for everything he says. With Bodin, however, the standpoint is more clearly 66 67 68 69 Ibid, 140. Ibid. Ibid., 147. Ibid., 148-51. 24 psychological, and there is a corresponding shift in emphasis from the judgement of an author as a whole to an estimation, from the bearing of his interests, of his attitude towards different topics. In other words, the idea of a "choice among historians," of their discrimination into lists of "good" and "bad," is partially transformed into the judgement of specific statements.7 0 Bodin's elaboration of potential sources of bias suggests that the concept of internal criticism as a means of establishing the trustworthiness of a document was understood in the sixteenth century, even if that understanding was somewhat crude. More than anything, the works of Bodin and Baudouin demonstrate the beginnings of a doctrine of historical method, i.e., a distinction between original and secondary sources, a means of establishing the authenticity of documents, and a set of psychological criteria for determining the bias of a source.7 1 The contributions of these two jurists became sources for the subsequent tradition and continued to be cited in works of historical criticism throughout the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. The seventeenth century witnessed a number of refinements in historical methodology. By the end of the century, the distinction between original and derivative authorities had become, in Arnaldo Momigliano's words, "the common patrimony of historical research." The work of antiquarians played a conspicuous role in the refinement of that distinction which Momigliano explains in the following way: By original authorities we mean either statements by eye-witnesses, or, documents, and other material remains, that are contemporary with the events which they attest. By derivative authorities we mean historians or chroniclers who relate and discuss events which they have not witnessed but which they have heard of or inferred directly or indirectly from original authorities. W e praise original authorities - or sources - for being reliable, but we praise non-contemporary historians - or derivative authorities - for displaying sound judgement in the interpretation and evaluation of the original s o u r c e s . 7 2 R.G. Collingwood has further observed that the systematic examination of authorities for the purpose of determining their relative credibility also resulted, by the end of the seventeenth century, in the transformation of "authorities" into "sources." As soon as it became understood that a given statement, made by a given author, must never be accepted for historical truth until the credibility of the author in general and of this statement in particular had been systematically inquired into, the word 'authority' disappeared from the vocabulary of historical method, except as an archaistic survival; for 70 ibid., 11. 71 Ibid., 152. 7 2 Momigliano, "Ancient History and the Antiquarian," 25 the man who makes the statement came henceforth to be regarded not as someone whose word must be taken for the truth of what he says, which is what was meant by calling him an authority, but as someone who has voluntarily placed himself in the witness-box for cross-examination. The document hitherto called an authority now acquired a new status, properly described by calling it a 'source', a word indicating simply that it contains the statement, without any implications as to its value. 7 3 The credibility of historical testimony (De fide historica) was a recurring theme in historical writing of the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. 7 4 According to Anthony Grafton, writers ...like the German F.W. Bierling ...addressed the wider problem of establishing rules for the criticism of sources. Long before Ranke had made archive-diving fashionable, Bierling had pointed out ...that archives can mislead. He admitted that many of his contemporaries thought this impossible, but a careful analysis of their content proved his point. Archives consisted, he argued, chiefly of documents created by ambassadors and other public officials. But such men normally had to report on deliberations to which they did not have direct access and the intentions of monarchs who did not speak frankly. Their reports, in short, contained "what the ambassador guesses to be true or considers to be memorable, not always what is true." 7 5 R.G. Collingwood, The Idea of History, edited by Jan Van Der Dussen, rev. ed. (New York: Oxford University Press, 1994), 258-59. 7 4 The prevalence of this theme is apparent in Allen Johnson's summary of several works of historical criticism that appeared in the seventeenth and eighteenth centuries. Two examples are worth mentioning. The first is the criticism of Jean Mabillon. His Traitd des 6tudes monastiques, which was printed in 1691, includes a chapter containing advice to readers of history on how to determine whether an historian is trustworthy. Mabillon advises readers to avoid any historian who is a mere copyist rather than an original, contemporary authority, unless he has corrected or explained an original authority, or if the original authority has been lost. He also counsels readers to look for a certain honesty, judgement, and accuracy on the part of the historian (though Mabillon does not provide clues as to how these are to be determined). Finally, he advises readers to trust historians whom the church has approved and reject others. The second example is the criticism of Henri Griffet. According to Johnson, Griffet, who published Trait6 des diffGrentes sortes de preuves qui servent a Gtablir la vGrite de I'histoire in 1769, is the first writer to compare the historian to "a judge in court who must confront witnesses, examine them, and ascertain the truth by painstaking study and comparison of the evidence. He must ever carry in his hand the torch of criticism in order to determine the trustworthiness of witnesses". Griffet also recommends the use of original and authentic records, by which he means state papers or official records. He regards the authority of such records to be superior to all other historical sources, including the testimony of a contemporary writer. On the other hand, "the agreement of contemporary testimony and authentic records ...constitute complete historical proof and establishes the truth of the facts in question." See Allen Johnson, The Historian and Historical Evidence (New York: Charles Scribner's Sons: 1926), 101-40. 7 5 Anthony Grafton, "The Footnote from De Thou to Ranke," History and Theory 33 (1994): 63-64. 26 It was also during the seventeenth century that historical scholarly procedure began to take into serious account the need for the historian to demonstrate his own trustworthiness in his use of the sources. Anthony Grafton has described the emergence of the footnote in its modern form, "as part of an effort to counter skepticism about the possibility of attaining knowledge about the past."7 6 Grafton credits Pierre Bayle, the compiler of the Dictionnaire histohque et critique (begun in 1690 and published in 1696), with primary responsibility for establishing the footnote as a standard part of scholarly procedure. Given that Bayle was considered a pyrrhonist by his contemporaries, the attribution is somewhat ironic. The Dictionnaire was a historical dictionary of ancient, medieval, and modern persons and places, supported by a vast apparatus of references and citations. In it, Bayle exposed numerous errors and contradictions between different historians and chroniclers, between different texts, and within the texts themselves, and maintained that the historical record of all periods and places had been corrupted by massive falsification. Not surprisingly, the Dictionnaire was viewed by many readers as an act of subversion, designed to undermine religious orthodoxy and, more generally, any notion that it was possible to achieve precise knowledge about the past. Nevertheless, Grafton points out, "Bayle emphasized the rules of good scholarship as well as the defects of bad. And in doing so he stated, formally, rules of scholarly procedure."7 7 In defending his dictionary, Bayle asserted that, "it is necessary to bring to bear proofs, to examine them, confirm them, and clarify them. In a word, this is a work of compilation." Grafton credits Bayle with making compilation "a term of pride": More elegant writers, who refused to provide the evidence in full, had brought scholarship into discredit. Bayle's vast accumulation of passages from other texts, of exegesis, summary, and rebuttal, was a profound exercise in truth-seeking - the only one indeed, that could allay the fears of readers rightly discouraged by the normal methods of uncritical scholarship: "And because many frauds are committed in the citations of authors, and those who honestly abridge a passage, do not always express the full force of it, it is incredible how much judicious persons are grown distrustful."7 8 By the end of the eighteenth century, it had become an unquestioned assumption on the part of historians "that a serious work of history must have notes; that these must lead the reader to the original sources and represent them accurately; that notes in fact provided the diagnostic test of a historian's critical expertise."7 9 Jurists and other secular historians of the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries laid part of the foundation on which systematic methods for determining the Ibid, 53. For a detailed study of the history of the footnote see Grafton's book-length study, The Footnote: A Curious History (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1997). 7 7 Grafton, "Footnote from De Thou," 73. 7 8 Ibid. 7 9 Ibid., 71-72. 27 trustworthiness of documentary sources could be built. Ecclesiastical historians during that same time period laid another part of that foundation. As Grafton explains, source criticism had long been a concern of ecclesiastical history: ...[Ecclesiastical] historians ...wrote as controversialists and believers: as Jews seeking to prove the Torah older than Homer or as Christians determined to prove the priority of a doctrine or an institution. The genre's ends determined its form: not the neat, classical prose of the political historians, but a mixture of technical arguments and supporting documents, the latter quoted verbatim in the text proper. Documents performed two functions, each vital: they supported the theses put forward by the author and they gave the reader a distinct, vivid sense of what it had meant to be a faithful Jew or a Christian in a distant and more difficult w o r l d . 8 0 Much of the impetus for the flourishing of ecclesiastical history in the early modern period was provided by doctrinal conflicts of the Reformation and Counter-Reformation. According to George Huppert, "[a]mong intellectuals the Reformation was at bottom an historical question, as they kept battling each other with documents to support their notion of what the primitive church had been like and measuring the historical variations of their opponents from this standard."8 1 Intellectuals and theologians alike adopted for their own purposes the antiquity criterion of trustworthiness that had existed in law since the time of Tertullian. The words of the Protestant theologian, Nicolas Vignier, in 1599, are indicative: Therefore one has to go back to the sources and say with our Lord Jesus Christ: it was not always thus since the beginning. ...Jesus Christ is my antiquity, said St. Ignatius, and not to obey him is manifest perdition. My authentic archives are his cross, his death, his resurrection ...That which comes first is the most true, said Tertullian. That which is at the beginning is first: that which is of the Apostles is at the beginning. It is therefore a very necessary thing to know what doctrines were held from the very beginning in the Church and to see graphically represented the various mutations experienced by the Church . . . 8 2 In the seventeenth century, the diplomatic wars (bella diplomatica) waged within the Catholic Church by Bollandists and Dominicans gave birth to a whole range of modern technical disciplines aimed at determining the trustworthiness of historical documents, among them, paleography, sigillography, and diplomatics. In 1675, the Bollandists published the second volume of the Acta Sanctorum, "in which the testimonies related to the lives of single saints were evaluated for the purpose of separating the facts from o u Ibid., 62-63. 8 1 George Huppert, The Idea of Perfect History: Historical Erudition and Historical Philosophy in Renaissance France (Urbana: University of Illinois Press, 1970), 159. 8 2 Ibid., 160. 28 the legend." The second volume included an introductory essay by Daniel Van Papenbroeck, who outlined general criteria for establishing the authenticity of diplomas (e.g., donations, privileges) of Merovingian and other rulers of France before the year 1000. In applying these criteria, Papenbroeck brought into disrepute all the Merovingian diplomas, most of which were preserved in the Benedictine Monastery of Saint-Denis. Six years later, Jean Mabillon, who had been called from that Monastery to publish the lives of Benedictine saints, published a six-part treatise De Re Diplomatica LJbri VI. Mabillon defined the new science of diplomatic as "the establishment of 'certain and accurate terms and rules by which authentic instruments can be distinguished from spurious, and certain and genuine ones from uncertain and suspect ones.'" 8 4 The first two parts of the treatise state the principles of diplomatic criticism, i.e., the tests by which charters can be known as true or false. In Part I, he defined the different kinds of charters and examined the main materials generally used for documents as well as the ink and kinds of writing. In Part II, he examined the language of the documents, the characteristic parts of medieval charters, the seals, and the systems of chronology used in dating them. On the basis of this examination, "Mabillon stated what, for a particular time and place, was the correct form for a genuine document, and presented ...the general principles of diplomatics."8 5 The remaining four parts of his treatise were devoted to proofs and illustrations of these principles and the manner in which they were to be applied. The sixth part consisted of more than two hundred documents copied from the originals, with notes and arguments demonstrating why they could be considered authentic. The fundamental assumptions of Mabillon's treatise were that the context of a document's creation is made manifest in its physical and intellectual form and that this form can be separated from the document's content and examined independently of it. By comparing documents created in different periods and issued by different chanceries, and discovering the attributes they shared, as well as those they did not share, Mabillon was able to articulate the necessary and sufficient elements of documents and identify the purpose each fulfilled in the document as a whole. Apart from identifying the visible manifestations of documentary elements, Mabillon looked at the document conceptually as embodying a system of both external and internal elements consisting of acts, which are the determinant cause of documentary creation, persons who concur in its formation, procedures, which are the means by which acts are carried out and the documentary form itself which binds all the elements together. By decontextualizing and universalizing all the elements of documentary creation, Mabillon established a methodology for determining the authenticity of documents across juridical systems and over 0 J Duranti, "Diplomatics I," 13. 8 4 De Re diplomatica (Paris, 1681), 1, quoted by C.R. Cheney, The Papacy and England 12 , h - 14 l Centuries (London: Variorum Reprints, 1982), 8. 8 5 James Westfall Thompson, A History of Historical Writing, vol. 2 (New York: The MacMillan Company, 1942), 19. 29 centuries. By focusing attention on the importance of chancery procedures in the establishment of norms for documentary creation, he provided future diplomatists with the tools for assessing the conformity of the document's formal elements with those established by chancery procedures. The absence of certain elements provided grounds for doubting the document's authenticity. Mabillon's achievement is summarized by Leonard Boyle in the following way: Above all else, Mabillon formulated a ...comprehensive and compelling statement of documentary criticism ...when he argued that any proper evaluation of the character, content and authenticity of a given document must take account of internal as well as external criteria; of the changing fashions of composition, handwriting, and style from area to area and from age to age; and of the history, personnel, and usages of chanceries, notarial offices, and scriptoria from place to place and from period to period. 8 6 Marc Bloch declared the year 1681, the year of the publication of De re diplomatica, to be "truly a great one in the history of the human mind, for the criticism of the documents of archives was definitely established." The publication of Mabillon's treatise was, moreover, "the decisive moment in the history of the critical method" because from that day forward, methodological doubt became the starting point of historical inquiry.8 7 For Jacques Le Goff, Mabillon's contribution to historical method resides in the fact that his work, "teaches that the agreement of two independent sources establishes the truth and, taking his inspiration from Descartes, [Mabillon] applies the principle of 'everywhere making enumerations so complete and so general' that one can be 'sure of not having omitted anything.'"8 8 The purpose of diplomatics was to establish the authenticity of medieval records across legal systems and over time. The meaning diplomatics ascribed to authenticity, however, differed somewhat from its original meaning. Since antiquity, authenticity had been associated with the concept of public faith. To declare a document authentic was equivalent to saying that the document was recognized as true by the juridical system in which it was created. The legal trustworthiness of a record and methods to guarantee public faith focused on external means of ensuring the recognition of the record by the legal system in which it was created (e.g., preservation in a public place, compilation by a notary). A record's legal truth was considered a sufficient guarantee of Leonard E. Boyle, "Diplomatics," in Medieval Studies: An In&oduction, ed. James M. Powell (Syracuse, N.Y.: Syracuse University Press, 1992), 84. 8 7 Marc Bloch, The Historian's Craft, translated by Peter Putnam (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1963), 81. 8 8 Le Goff, History and Memory, 193-94. The quotations Le Goff inserts in his text are taken from Georges Tessier, "Diplomatique, " in L'Histoire et ses m&hodes, edited by Charles Samarin (Paris: Gallimard, 1961), 641. Tessier's precise words are: "Mabillon a applique aux chartes qu'il avait reunie une methode d'analyse conforme aux grands principes formules par Descartes quarante ans plus tot, et particulierement a celui 'de faire partout des denombrements si entiers et des revues si generates ' qu'on fut 'assure de ne rien omettre'". 30 its historical truth. Diplomatics, on the other hand, sought to establish a record's legal and historical truth on the basis of its documentary truth. Moving from the observation of perceptible matters of fact (the elements of the document itself) to assertions about imperceptible matters of fact (the past in which the document was created), diplomatic methodology transformed written facts into historical sources and nurtured the belief that knowledge about a past to which there was no direct access could, nevertheless, be attained by examining its documentary traces. The diplomatic method for assessing the trustworthiness of a record represented a significant departure from earlier methods in its approach to adducing evidence. Earlier methods had relied on external evidence, i.e., evidence derived from circumstances or considerations outside of the document (e.g., the evidence of witnesses, the evidence of authority); diplomatics relied instead on internal evidence (the evidence embedded within the document's physical and intellectual form). Ian Hacking maintains that the concept of internal evidence was unknown before the late seventeenth century. In making this claim, he distinguishes between verisimilitude, which "is a matter of one thing being or not being what it seems or pretends to be" and internal evidence, which "is a matter of inferring one thing from another thing." 8 9 According to Hacking, the arguments Lorenzo Valla makes in his exposure of the fraudulent donation of Constantine are based on verisimilitude rather than on inference. Valla looked at the document's contents, the claims it made, and the prose style in which it was couched, and concluded that the Donation did not resemble a true document of the fourth century: it lacked verisimilitude.9 0 The rules of textual criticism enunciated in Mabillon's treatise, on the other hand, reflect the new conception of evidence as inference (or inductive evidence). Mabillon treated solecisms and historical anachronisms found within a document's formal elements as evidence that a document was faulty or fraudulent. In this case, one thing (a particular abbreviation or script) served as evidence against the claim that the whole document was sound. Diplomatic analysis translated a document into a system of external signs or traces which pointed to a reality beyond themselves. Each trace was a small window into the past in which the document was created. The introduction of the concept of evidence as inference provided a necessary precondition for the emergence of a new philosophy of rational belief based on probability rather than certainty. 9 1 That philosophy, in turn, radically altered the epistemological framework in which assessments of record trustworthiness would subsequently be carried out. Many of its tenets were laid out Ian Hacking, The Emergence of Probability: A Philosophical Study of Early Ideas About Probability, Induction and Statistical Inference (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1974), 34. 9 0 Ibid., 33-34. 9 1 For the connection between the emergence of the concept of evidence as induction and the emergence of probability theory specifically, see ibid., 31-48. 31 in 1689 in John Locke's Essay Concerning Human Understanding, which, according to Barbara Shapiro, "represented a culmination of earlier efforts to redefine and clarify the varieties of knowledge and certainty." 9 3 For Locke, knowledge manifested itself in three forms: intuition, demonstration, and sensation. Knowledge by demonstration was "the showing the agreement or disagreement of two ideas, by the intervention of one or more proofs, which have a constant, immutable, and visible connexion one with another." 9 4 Since such knowledge was necessarily "short and scanty," determinations of the truth or falsity of propositions concerning most matters of interest or consequence in life must be based on judgements of probability. He defined probability as "the appearance of such an agreement or disagreement, by the intervention of proofs, whose connexion is not constant and immutable, or at least is not perceived to be so, but is, or appears for the most part to be so, and is enough to induce the mind to judge the proposition to be true or false, rather than the contrary." 9 5 Conformity with one's own experience or the testimony of others' experience provided the grounds for such judgements; in judging the testimony of others, the number, integrity and skill of the witnesses, the consistency of the testimony's parts and contrary testimonies were all to be taken into consideration. 9 6 Assent to any proposition was to be based on the strength of the evidence. "One places a level of confidence in the proposition that is proportioned to its probability on that satisfactory evidence. If the proposition is highly probable on the evidence, one believes it very firmly; if it only is quite probable, one believes it rather weakly; etc." 9 7 The ideas of Locke and others concerning the relationship between probability and evidence exercised a significant influence on the emerging disciplines of law and history. 9 8 As Barbara Shapiro points out, Locke and other John Locke, An Essay Concerning Human Understanding, ed. A.D. Woozley (New York: New American Library, 1974). 9 3 Shapiro, Probability and Certainty, 37. 9 4 Locke, Essay Concerning Human Understanding, 403. 9 5 Ibid., 403-4. 9 6 Ibid., 405. 9 7 Cambridge Dictionary of Philosophy (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1995), s.v. "Locke, John." go One of the more unusual and obscure results of that influence is Joannis Craig's "Rules of Historical Evidence," which appear as two chapters in his book Theologiae Christianae Principia Mathematica. The book, which was published in 1699, purported to validate scientifically certain Christian truths against agnostics. The chapters relating to evidence were an attempt to establish rules of historical evidence on the basis of mathematical principles. Craig defined historical probability as "probability which is deduced from the testimonies of others who are affirming their own observation or experience." He used algebraic equations, based on propositions and problems, which purported to establish the reliability of historical evidence. Examples of propositions for which he produced elaborate algebraic equations include: "suspicions of historical probability transmitted through single successive witnesses (other things being equal) increase in proportion to the numbers of witnesses through whom the history is handed down" and "velocities of suspicion produced in equal periods of time increase in arithmetical progression." See Craig's Rules of Historical Evidence from Joannis Craig, Theologiae Christianae Principia Mathematica (1699), in History and Theory Beiheft4 ('S-Gravenhage: Mouton and Co., 1964). 32 philosophers, such as Robert Boyle, assumed that documentary evidence fell under their general theory of evidence and knowledge: For example, both [Locke] and Boyle noted that an attested copy of a record is good evidence that an event occurred, but that an unattested copy is not as good. The testimony of a witness is good evidence that an event has occurred, but "a report of his report is not and will not be admitted in a court of law. The further from the source, the weaker the evidence becomes." 9 9 Legal and historical scholars came to agree that in investigating issues of fact, demonstrable or infallible proof should not be insisted upon and that determinations of fact in history and adjudication were no different from those in other investigations. From that time on, the truth of any proposition would be established by reasoning from the relevant evidence and it would be measured, not in terms of absolute certainty but rather in terms of probability, which would always be a matter of d e g r e e . 1 0 0 These ideas concerning the relationship between knowledge, belief, and evidence, which culminated in a new theory of epistemology, known as rationalist empiricism, exercised a formative influence on the Anglo-American tradition of evidence scholarship that was beginning to take shape in the eighteenth century. 1 0 1 The first specialized study of legal evidence in that tradition, Sir Geoffrey Gilbert's The Law of Evidence, was based explicitly on Lockean theories of knowledge. In the opening paragraphs of his treatise, Gilbert asserted that ...it has been observed by a very learned man [identified at the bottom of the page as "Mr. Locke"] that there are several degrees from perfect certainty and demonstration, quite down to unprobability and unlikeness, even to the confines of impossibility; and there are several acts of the mind proportioned to these degrees of assent, from full assurance and confidence, quite down to conjecture, doubt, distrust, and disbelief. Now what is to be done, in all trials of right, is to range all matters on the scale of probability, so as to lay most weight where the a M Shapiro, Probability and Certainty, 179. 1 0 0 Some of the transformations taking place in the legal world were at least partly attributable to the disappearance of the self-informing jury. By the 1600s, jurors were no longer the main witnesses to the facts in dispute and so courts could no longer rely on the authority of their personal knowledge of the facts of the case as a basis on which to render a verdict. Increasingly jurors had to render a verdict on the basis of the witnesses and documents placed before them. See Thomas Andrew Green, Verdict According to Conscience: Perspectives on the English Criminal Trial 1200-1800 (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1985). 0 1 See William Twining, "The Rationalist Tradition of Evidence Scholarship," in Rethinking Evidence: Exploratory Essays (Oxford; New York: Blackwell, 1990), 32-91. 33 cause ought to preponderate, and thereby to make the most exact discernment that can be, in relation to right. 1 0 2 Gilbert accorded to written evidence "the first place in the discourses of probability" on the grounds that, unlike human memory, which was fallible, "contracts reduced to writing are the most sedate and deliberate acts of the mind and are more advantageously secured from all corruption, by the forms and solemnities of the l a w " . 1 0 3 The greater part of his treatise was occupied with establishing a hierarchy of written evidence, with the memorials of the legislature and the King's courts of justice at the top of that hierarchy and private documents at the bottom. The Law of Evidence was considered the leading work of its kind for at least fifty years (i.e., between 1754, the year of its first publication, and 1801, the year it was last re-issued). 1 0 4 In the early part of the nineteenth century, however, it was subjected to a scathing critical analysis by another legal theorist in the Rationalist tradition, Jeremy Bentham, who found Gilbert's entire work pervaded by a strain of "anility, garrulity, narrow-mindedness, absurdity, perpetual misrepresentation, and indefatigable self-contradiction". 1 0 5 Bentham's attack on Gilbert's theory of evidence drew needed attention to the two separate aspects of record trustworthiness and sharpened the contours of its legal scope and meaning. What raised Bentham's ire was Gilbert's assertion that written evidence, as a matter of general principle, was more trustworthy than oral testimony. 1 0 6 In making such an assertion, Bentham argued, Gilbert failed to distinguish between what Bentham termed "makeshift evidence" (i.e., unoriginal evidence such as hearsay and casually written evidence) and "preappointed evidence" (i.e., evidence specifically created with a view to being used as evidence and thereby invested with securities to ensure its trustworthiness). 1 0 7 He maintained that Gilbert's apparent inability to distinguish w Lord Chief Baron Gilbert, The Law of Evidence, 6 t h ed. (London: W. Clarke and Sons, 1801), 1 1 0 3 Ibid., 5. 1 0 4 Twining, "Rationalist Tradition," 36. Gilbert's treatise was not formally published until 28 years after Gilbert's death and his work reflects an understanding of evidence formed in the opening decade of the eighteenth century. See Stephen Landsman, "The Rise of the Contentious Spirit: Adversary Procedure in Eighteenth Century England," Cornell Law Review 75 (March 1990): 592. 1 0 5 Jeremy Bentham, "False Theory of Evidence (Gilbert's)," Appendix C of An Introductory View of the Rationale of Judicial Evidence, in The Works of Jeremy Bentham, edited by John Bowering, vol. 6 (New York: Russell and Russell, 1962), 186-87. 1 0 6 Although he identifies a wide range of documents in his hierarchy, among them, writs, affidavits, depositions, bills in chancery, and wills, Gilbert appears to have based his assertion of the superior trustworthiness of written evidence on the authority accorded to a much narrower range of documents by common law courts in earlier times. According to James Bradley Thayer, "the vast majority of documents used in trials in early times were no doubt of the solemn, constitutive, and dispositive kind, instruments under seal, records, certificates of high officials, public registers, and the like. Such documents, if the authenticity of them were not denied, 'imported verity,' as the phrase was, fixed liability and determined rights." See James Bradley Thayer, "The Best Evidence," in A Preliminary Treatise on Evidence at the Common Law (Boston: Little, Brown and Company, 1898), 504. 1 0 7 Bentham's discussion of makeshift evidence may be found in chapters XIII of An Introductory View of the Rationale of Judicial Evidence and in Books V and VI of the Rationale of Judicial Evidence. See Works of Jeremy Bentham, vol. 6, 57-60; vol. 7, 118-173. His discussion of pre-appointed 34 among different kinds of records possessing different degrees of trustworthiness betrayed a more fundamental inability to distinguish between the trustworthiness of a record as a record and its trustworthiness as a statement of facts. "Two questions which [Gilbert] confounds at the very outset, and is never tired of confounding, are the question of authenticity and the question of verity - the question concerning the authenticity of a script, and the question concerning the verity of the assertion contained in i t . " 1 0 8 Gilbert had placed first in the hierarchy of probability the legal memorials of the legislature and of the king's courts of justice which were deposited at the Treasury of Westminster. As William Twining describes, Bentham challenged both the reliability and the authenticity of such records: ...Bentham suggests that Gilbert treats records as "a diagram for the demonstration of right" produced by a "supersacred and super-human class of persons". But officials are but men, whose trustworthiness * needs to be determined by the same tests as any other men; and legal records are notoriously unreliable, " compounds or reservoirs of truths and lies undistinguishably shaken together, penned by nobody knows who, and kept under the orders, how seldom soever, if, ever, actually subjected to the eyes of the judges of Westminster H a l l . " 1 0 9 Bentham's acerbic critique of Gilbert's rules of evidence effectively invalidated the notion that written evidence should be treated as inherently more trustworthy than oral e v i d e n c e . 1 1 0 It did not, however, invalidate the rationalist assumptions on which Gilbert based his theory of the law of evidence. During the nineteenth century, several treatises on the law of evidence were written. 1 1 1 According to Twining, all of these treatises share a number of common assumptions, among them, that: knowledge about particular past events is possible; the establishment of the truth of alleged evidence may be found in Chapter XIV of An Introductory View of the Rationale of Judicial Evidence and in Book IV of the Rationale of Judicial Evidence. See Won\s of Jeremy Bentham, vol. 6, 60-67; vol. 7, 508-585. 1 0 8 Bentham, "False Theory of Evidence," 184. 1 0 9 Twining, "Rationalist Tradition," 37. 1 1 0 Bentham returned to the conceptual distinction between authenticity and verity in his monumental work, The Rationale of Judicial Evidence. In the Rationale, he substituted the word, "fairness" for "verity," but the distinction he had earlier established remained the same: "A distinction must here be observed, between evidence of authenticity, and evidence of fairness. Authenticity may be proved by similitude of hands: it may be proved, provisionally at least, ex tenore, with or without the other presumption ex custodia. To the question of fairness, none of these media of proof, it is evident, can apply. ...A bond is produced in evidence: the obligor may have been in a state of insanity or intoxication when he executed it: he may have executed it with the fear of a pistol or a dagger before his eyes, or in a state of illegal imprisonment, to which he had been subjected for that purpose. Of none of these modifications will the signature, or the custody of the instrument, or the tenor of it, afford any sort of warning." See Works of Bentham, vol. 6, 593. 1 1 1 The major treatises on the law of evidence written during the nineteenth century, and their contribution to the Rationalist tradition of evidence scholarship are discussed at length in Twining, "Rationalist Tradition," 35-59. 35 facts in adjudication is typically a matter of probabilities, falling short of absolute certainty; judgements about the probabilities of allegations about particular past events can be reached by reasoning from relevant evidence presented to the decision-maker; the characteristic mode of reasoning about probabilities is induction and; judgements about probabilities have, generally speaking, to be based on common sense logic and experience, which may be supplemented, in appropriate circumstances, by specialized scientific or expert knowledge. 1 1 2 These assumptions constitute the core of the rationalist tradition of evidence scholarship, a tradition that has continued into the twentieth century, primarily through John Henry Wigmore's A Treatise on the Anglo-American System of Evidence in Trials at Common Law, which provides the theoretical foundation for the common law rules of evidence. By the end of the nineteenth century, rules for assessing the authenticity and reliability of records were firmly embedded in the common law. The rules governing the authentication of records, e.g., authentication by age (the ancient documents rule), by official custody, by official seal, and by comparison of handwriting could be traced back to Roman law and had been standard features of medieval legal procedure. The rule requiring the production of documentary originals (the best evidence rule) can also be traced back to Roman law; it did not, however, enter the common law until the eighteenth century. There had been a rule of pleading in profert since at least the fifteenth century which required that documents on which a claim was based must be presented to the court but the rule only applied to sealed writings and to civil cases. Other documents might be placed before the tribunal or witnesses might simply make reference to documents without producing them. This practice was increasingly seen as irregular and by the eighteenth century it was a rule that an original document must be produced, unless unfeasible, to prove its t e r m s . 1 1 3 At common law, the reliability of business records as testimonial assertions was dealt with under the regular entries exception to the hearsay rule. The roots of that exception extended back to a seventeenth century doctrine that permitted the shop-books of parties to be entered into evidence since, as parties to an action, they were prohibited from testifying. The rule disappeared by the end of the seventeenth century as the self-serving nature of its usage became apparent. Subsequently, the courts began to allow the admission of books of regular entries prepared by third parties, including clerks of a party, if the entrant was deceased at the time of trial. The regular entries exception was firmly established by 1 8 3 2 . 1 1 4 Although one of its underpinnings was necessity (the death of the entrant), the 112 Ibid, 73 (model II). 1 1 3 For a more detailed history of the best evidence rule relating to documents, see Wigmore, Evidence in Trials at Common Law, vol. 4, edited and revised by James H. Chadbourn (Boston: Little, Brown, 1972), para. 1177; Thayer, "Best Evidence," 503-505; W.S. Holdsworth, "Documentary Evidence," in A History of English Law, vol. 9 (London: Methuen & Co., 1926), 163-77. 1 1 4 For a more detailed history of the exception, see Wigmore, Evidence in Trials at Common Law, vol. 5, edited and revised by James H. Chadbourn (Boston: Little, Brown, 1974), para. 1518. 36 exception was also justified on the grounds of a circumstantial probability of trustworthiness. The nineteenth century was also an important period for the codification of historical methods for determining the trustworthiness of records as historical sources. In 1898, Charles Victor Langlois and Charles Seignobos published Introduction aux etudes historiques. It was immediately translated into English and published later the same year as Introduction to the Study of History n 5 The Introduction represented the culmination of efforts to identify the scope of historical criticism, define the various categories of historical evidence, and establish procedures for determining their authenticity and reliability.1 1 6 The principles of historical evidence that were codified in the nineteenth century were built on a tradition of philological or source criticism dating back at least to the fifteenth century. During the eighteenth century, philological studies blossomed, particularly in the philosophical faculties of German universities, and provided the intellectual formation of the most influential nineteenth century historians. Leopold von Ranke studied classical philology under Barthold Georg Niebuhr and considered Niebuhr's work "a model of the method of historical r e s e a r c h . " 1 1 7 'Scientific history,' as practised by Ranke and codified by Langlois and Seignobos, was based on the claim that: history ... is primarily concerned with facts and their causal connection -- how they acted upon each other. The historian works with materials contemporary with the time on which he focuses, or at least with early reports about the past, preferably documents, whose exactitude and reliability have to be subjected to critical examination. Like any other science, therefore, history has its own method, the critical method, and Ranke is understood to have extended the critical method of philology to the entire study of the past. Research in the sources of the past, using the critical method, became the precondition and the center of historical scholarship. ...By making the establishment of the facts of the past the main aim of historical criticism, Ranke set up a clear priority among the sources of history. The first place belonged to archival r e s e a r c h . 1 1 8 1 1 5 Ch. V. Langlois and Ch. Seignobos, Introduction to the Study of History, trans, by G.G. Berry (London: Duckworth & Co., 1898). 1 1 6 Earlier nineteenth century efforts include Johann Gustav Droysen, Outline of the Principles of History (Grundriss der Historik), trans. E. Benjamin Andrews (Boston: Ginn and Company, [1867], 1893) and Ernst Bernheim, Lehrbuch der historischen Methode (1889). Other manuals of historical method that appeared during the nineteenth century are discussed in Allen Johnson's 7he Historian and Historical Evidence, 126-40. 1 1 7 Felix Gilbert, History: Politics or Culture? Reflections on Ranke and Burckhardt (Princeton, New Jersey: Princeton University Press, 1990), 18. 1 1 8 Ibid., 32, 18. 37 Ranke's clear preference for primary sources had the effect of diminishing the value that previously had been granted to derivative sources, including histories written before 1800. In previous centuries, Leonard Krieger observes, historians had "looked for a literal truth in the report conveyed by the documents and methodically vetted for error, fraud, interpolation, or other extraneous matter that might distort the faithful translation of past reality in the reports. The scientific historians ...saw in those same reports mere indications, or symbols, of a past reality which had to be reconstructed from the traces left in the documents." 1 1 9 This shift in perspective is evident in Langlois' and Seignobos' manual, in which they assert that, "the facts of the past are only known to us by the traces of them which have been preserved. These traces, it is true, are directly observed by the historian, but, after that, he has nothing more to observe; what remains is the work of reasoning, in which he endeavours to infer, with the greatest possible exactness, the facts from the traces. The document is his starting-point, the fact his As historians began to distinguish between the past and its traces, and between documents and historical facts, they also began to draw a clearer distinction between authenticity and reliability. When Mabillon first formulated the principles and methods of diplomatic criticism, authenticity, in the diplomatic sense, referred to the presence in a record of all the forms required to enable it to be its own competent witness. Because of the tight controls exercised over the procedures of documentary creation and the limited forms of documents produced during the medieval period, early diplomatists did not distinguish between a record's authenticity and its reliability; it was assumed that if a document could be proved trustworthy in form, its contents could be considered trustworthy in fact. With the rise of the state from the sixteenth century onwards, and the consequent increase in the number and forms of documents being produced, such an assumption could no longer be sustained. By the end of the nineteenth century, Langlois and Seignobos were echoing Bentham in their warning to historians not to equate authenticity with historical truth: [T]o say that a document is authentic is merely to say that its origin is certain, not that its contents are free from error. But authenticity inspires a degree of respect which disposes us to accept the contents Leonard Krieger, Time's Reasons: Philosophies of History Old and New (Chicago: University of Chicago Press, 1989), 98. 1 2 0 Langlois and Seignobos, Introduction to Study, 64. Their observation echoes one made by Gustav Droysen thirty-one years earlier in his manual of historical method: "The science of history is the result of empirical perception, experience and investigation ...All empirical investigation governs itself according to the data to which it is directed, and it can only direct itself to such data as are immediately present to it and susceptible of being cognized through the senses. The data for historical investigation are not past things, for these have disappeared, but things which are still present here and now, whether recollections of what was done, or remnants of things that have existed and of events that have occurred." Droysen also refers to documents as "traces". See Droysen, Outline of Principles, 10-11, para. 4-5. 38 without discussion. To doubt the statements of an authentic document would seem presumptuous, or at least we think ourselves bound to wait for overwhelming proof before we impeach the testimony of the author. ...These natural instincts must be methodically resisted. A document ...is not all of a piece; it is composed of a great number of independent statements, any one of which may be intentionally or unintentionally false, while the others are bona fide and accurate ...It is not, therefore, enough to examine a document as a whole; each of the statements in it must be examined separately; criticism is impossible without analysis™ In Langlois and Seignobos' manual, the authenticity of records was considered under the procedures of external criticism; the reliability of records was dealt with under the procedures of internal criticism. The purpose of external criticism was to locate the document in its time and p l a c e . 1 2 2 This involved establishing, among other things, whether the document was an original or a copy, and, if it was a copy, identifying its source, and comparing different versions of the same text in order to ascertain the most authoritative copy. It also involved identifying the origin of the writing, its author, place, and date, to determine whether there had been any interpolations or continuations made to the text by other authors. The procedures for carrying out the external criticism of a record included investigating the handwriting, the language, events mentioned in the text, as well as looking at external evidence for clues to confirm or refute the purported authorship of the document. For medieval documents, external criticism also included the application of concepts and principles of diplomatics. The original purpose of diplomatics had been to determine a record's authenticity for legal purposes and that purpose continued into the eighteenth century when its concepts and principles were incorporated into the curriculum of many European faculties of law. By the end of the nineteenth century, however, under the influence of classical philology and the scientific school of historiography, diplomatics had emerged as an ancillary science of history. As Olivier Guyotjeanin describes it, the task of the diplomatist was: ...de convoyer sur le chantier historique un materiau dument edite, date, critique. II mettait en oeuvre une critique negative, si Ton peut dire, decelant les falsifications; ivraie de sa moisson de documents; dont il etait aussi charge de trier la paille (le formulaire) du grain (les faits attestes); ou, pour prendre une autre metaphore, qui a eu son heure de gloire, de faire sauter la gangue de formules, ou le minerai des donnees restait captif sans son intervention e x p e r t e . 1 2 3 Langlois and Seignobos, Introduction to Study, 159. 1 2 2 The procedures of external criticism are elaborated in ibid., 71-140. 123 Olivier Guyotjeannin, "La Diplomatique Medievale et L'elargissement de son Champ," La Gazette des Archives 172 (1996): 13-14. 39 In the two centuries that had elapsed since the publication of De re diplomatica, diplomatic methodology had undergone some refinement but Mabillon's work remained the standard book on methodology until the nineteenth century when it was supplanted by manuals such as Harry Bresslau's Handbuch der Urkundenlehre fur Deutschland und Italien™4 Arthur Giry's Manuel de diplomatique,125 and Cesare Paoli's Programma scolastico di paleografia latina e di diplomatica.126 The nineteenth century also witnessed significant advances in diplomatic doctrine, due largely to the efforts of German diplomatists such as Theodor von S i c k e l 1 2 7 and Julius Ficker. 1 2 8 As state archives were opened and more and more documents became available for publication and study, various branches of diplomatics emerged, focussing on specific topics, among them: chronology, sigillography, documentary forms, the status of transmission of documents, the various types of copies, the creation procedure of documents, specific chancery procedures, as well as the criticism of f o r g e r i e s . 1 2 9 According to Langlois and Seignobos, if a record was found to be a forgery, it was immediately eliminated from any further consideration. If it was found to be authentic, it was then subjected to internal criticism, the purpose of which was to assess the credibility of a record as testimony of the facts contained within i t . 1 3 0 Specifically, it attempted ...by the help of analogies mostly borrowed from general psychology, to reproduce the mental states through which the author of the document passed. Knowing what the author of the document has said, we ask (1) What did he mean? (2) Did he believe what he said? (3) W a s he justified in believing whatever he did believe? This last step brings the document to a point where it resembles the data of the objective sciences: it becomes an observation. 1 3 1 Nineteenth century historians emphasized the close connection between the personality of an author and the account he presented on the grounds that such account inevitably reflected the intellectual formation and interests of its author as well Harry Bresslau, Handbuch der Urkundenlehre fur Deutschland und Italien (Berlin, 1889), cited in Boyle, "Diplomatics," 104. 1 2 5 Arthur Giry, Manuel de Diplomatique (New York: Burt Franklin, 1893). 1 2 6 Cesare Paoli, Programma scolastico di paleografia latina e di diplomatica (Firenze, 1888-90), cited in Luciana Duranti, "Diplomatics I," 25, n. 17. 1 2 7 Theodor von Sickel, BeitrSge zur Diplomatik 1-8, in Sitzungsberichte der Wiener Akademie (Vienna, 1861-82), cited in Boyle, "Diplomatics," 106. 2 8 Julius Ficker, Beitrage zur Urkundenlehre, 2 vols. (Innsbruck, 1877-78), cited in Duranti, "Diplomatics I," 25, n. 16. 1 2 9 Duranti, "Diplomatics I," 14. For a more detailed examination of diplomatics in the nineteenth century, see Georges Tessier, "Diplomatique," 647-63. 1 3 0 The procedures of internal criticism are elaborated in Langlois and Seignobos, Introduction to Study, 141-208. 1 3 1 Ibid., 66-67. 40 as the ideas and preoccupations of the world in which he lived. In Ranke's words: "every writing, not only its value and importance, but in a certain sense its life, depends on the relationship between subject and object, between author and his topic. The first task of every critical examination is to make this relation v i s i b l e . " 1 3 2 Internal criticism accomplished this task in three stages. The first stage consisted of interpretive criticism, which was directed toward establishing the literal and actual meaning of the words used by the author in his account; the second stage involved the negative criticism of the good faith and accuracy of the author, which assessed the extent to which the author could be trusted as an observer and/or recorder of events; the third stage consisted of the determination of particular facts, in which the author's account of an event was compared to other accounts to see where they coincided and where they diverged. In their manual, Langlois and Seignobos stressed that internal criticism, "can prove no fact; it only yields probabilities. Its end and result is to decompose documents into statements, each labelled with an estimate of its value - worthless statement, statement open to suspicion (strong or weak), statement probably (or, very probably) true, statement of unknown value." 1 3 3 On the other hand, two statements, insufficient in themselves, "may confirm each other in such a manner as to produce a collective certainty."1 3 4 The methods articulated by. Langlois and Seignobos reflect the aspiration of nineteenth century historians toward a "scientific history." The trustworthiness of documents was assessed, accordingly, by means comparable to that employed by the "objective" sciences, and involved the decomposition of a document into a series of statements which were subsequently refined until they resembled a scientific observation. In the period of time bracketted by the compilation of the Justinian Code and the publication of An Introduction to the Study of History, the concepts and methods for ensuring record trustworthiness underwent considerable refinement. Originally associated exclusively with the truth of a document as a document, i.e, its authenticity, trustworthiness gradually came to embrace, as well, the truth of a document as testimony of the facts contained within it. The concepts and methods associated with trustworthiness were also affected by changes in the conception of records as evidence. In antiquity and through much of the middle ages, records were seen primarily as manifestations of legal facts. Renaissance humanism and the emergence of philology encouraged scholars and jurists to consider them also as manifestations of historical facts, i.e., as facts specific to a particular time and place. By the late seventeenth century, with the emergence of a new concept of evidence as inference, records began to be seen in yet a new light: as sources from which historical or legal facts might be inferred. The new concept of evidence as inference was intimately Quoted in Gilbert, "History: Politics or Culture," 17. 1 3 3 Langlois and Seignobos, Introduction to Study, 194. 1 3 4 Ibid., 204. According to Allen Johnson, Langlois' and Seignobos' notion of "collective certainty" is analogous to Ernst Bernheim's notion of "inner probability." See Johnson, Historian and Historical Evidence, 144-46. 41 connected to the emergence of a new philosophy of rationalist belief which asserted that the truth of most propositions cannot be established with any certainty; it can only be measured in degrees of probability, based on reasoning from the relevant evidence. As Carl Joynt and Nicholas Rescher observe, in their discussion of evidence in history and the law: Facts are not evidence for one another per se, for the very idea of evidence rests upon the mediation of our knowledge regarding the relationships between facts. ...Evidence, as a probabilistic concept, is based upon reference to our information about things: it concerns itself with our knowledge about states of affairs, and not with states of affairs 135 per se. By the end of the nineteenth century, a recognizable set of legal and historical methods for assessing the trustworthiness of records as evidence, operating within a framework of probabilities, were well established. As the following chapters demonstrate, that tradition continues to provide the foundation of modern legal and historical methods for determining record trustworthiness. Carl B. Joynt and Nicholas Rescher, "Evidence in History and the Law," Journal of Philosophy 56 (1959): 565. 42 Chapter 2 Modern Rules Governing Documentary Evidence at Common Law and in Canadian Statutory Law The legal rules governing the use of documentary evidence demonstrate a substantial degree of continuity with those established at the end of the nineteenth century. The authoritative compilation of the law of evidence in trials at common law continues to be Wigmore on Evidence,1 which has been revised and expanded a number of times since it first appeared in 1904. In the last twenty-five years, the common law rules have been refined and extended, and supplemented by statutory law, in order to accommodate the modern reality of recordkeeping. This chapter explores the current rules governing the authenticity and reliability of documentary evidence in general and business records in particular at common law, and, more specifically, in Canadian statutory law, and the extent to which those rules have been adapted to take into account electronic recordkeeping environments. The trustworthiness of documentary evidence is considered under the rules of admissibility. At common law, the rules of admissibility are grouped into three categories: the first category dealing with the probative value of specific facts (rules of relevancy), the second including rules that attempt to increase or safeguard probative value (rules of auxiliary probative policy), and the third consisting of rules based on extrinsic policies (e.g., rules excluding privileged communications) rather than on probative value. 2 Admissibility means that a particular fact is relevant, and that it has also met the requirements of the auxiliary tests and extrinsic policies. As Wigmore makes clear, it does not mean "that the particular fact has demonstrated or proved the proposition to be proved, but merely that it is received by the tribunal for the purpose of being weighed with other evidence."3 The admissibility of evidence is a matter determined by the judge, the weight of evidence is a matter determined by the trier of fact, usually the jury. Relevancy means "applicability to the issue joined ....Two facts are said to be relevant to each other when so related that according to the common course of events, one either taken by itself or in connection with other facts, proves or renders probable the ...existence or non-existence of the other."4 As the definition shows, the rules of relevancy governing evidence are rooted in the Lockean tradition of rationalist empiricism and, more specifically, in the theory of logical relevancy. The first principle of that theory is expressed in terms of the relationship between evidence and probability. Peter Tillers explains the principle in the following way: 1 John Henry Wigmore, Evidence in Trials at Common Law, 11 vols. (Boston: Little, Brown, 1972- 1983) (hereafter cited as Wigmore on Evidence, followed by name of reviser, and year of revision in parentheses, volume number, and paragraph number). Wigmore on Evidence (Tillers rev., 1983), vol. 1, para. 11. 3 Ibid., para. 12. 4 Black's Law Dictionary, 6 t h ed. (St. Paul, Minn.: West Publishing, 1990), s.v. "relevancy." 43 "[k]nowledge of facts is always a matter of probabilities. We may acquire knowledge of matters of fact by drawing inferences from evidence, but these inferences can only alter the probability that some fact does or does not exist and can never establish with certainty that some fact does or does not e x i s t . " 5 Inferences, in turn, rest on generalizations based on common sense experience and logic: W e draw an inference when the existence of one fact, the factum probans, alters our estimate of the existence of another fact, the factum probandum, but we do not draw that inference because of any intrinsic relationship between the factum probans [the existent fact, i.e., the evidence] and the factum probandum [the hypothetical fact, i.e., the proposition]; we draw that inference because we hold some principle that leads us to believe that the existence of the factum probans makes the existence of the factum probandum more or less probable. These connective principles are called "generalizations" or "evidential hypotheses," and they are furnished by experience or logic. They take the form of relative frequency statements that assert that when events of type A occur, events of type B occur with a certain frequency (e.g., "very often," or "almost a l w a y s " ) 6 Finally, inferences from evidence usually involve a series or chain of inferences and a chain of inferences is only as strong as its weakest link. "The greater the number of links in the chain - the greater the number of intermediate inferences - the weaker the final inference produced by the chain of inferences."7 These principles of logical relevancy provide the overarching framework in which assessments of the trustworthiness of evidence in general and documentary evidence in particular are made. The rules dealing with documents in general and business records in particular are rules of auxiliary probative policy and are "designed to strengthen here and there the evidential fabric and to secure it against dangers and weaknesses pointed out by experience."8 Within that broad category are rules governing the authentication of documents, the rule requiring the production of an original document (the best evidence rule), and the rule governing the admissibility of extra-judicial testimonial assertions, i.e., declarations made pursuant to a business duty. The legal rules relating to authentication and best evidence address the trustworthiness of a record as a record (i.e., whether the record is genuine or false). The rules of evidence governing the reliability of a record (i.e., the trustworthiness of the facts contained within it) are dealt with as an exception to the hearsay rule. At common law, the hearsay rule is an analytic rule, the purpose of which "is to subject a certain kind of evidence to tests calculated to exhibit and expose its possible 5 Wigmore on Evidence, (Tillers rev., 1983), vol. 1A, para. 37.4. 6 Ibid. 7 Ibid. 8 Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1972), vol. 4, para. 1171. 44 weaknesses and thus to make clear to the tribunal the precise value it has." 9 The rule requires the application of two interconnected tests for trustworthiness: cross- examination and confrontation. The theory underlying the rule is that witnesses' assertions must be tested by cross-examination and confrontation in order to expose any deficiencies, distortions, or suppressions.1 0 According to Wigmore, "the chief questions that arise in connection to this rule are whether the rule has in a given case been satisfied by adequate opportunity for cross-examination, whether certain classes of testimonial assertions are to be received exceptionally without undergoing these tests, and where the line is to be drawn between utterances to which the rule does and does not apply." 1 1 Hearsay evidence, as defined by McCormick, is "testimony in court, or written evidence, of a statement made out of court, the statement being offered as an assertion to show the truth of matters asserted therein, and thus resting for its value upon the credibility of the out of court asserter."1 2 Under normal circumstances, such statements are excluded on the grounds that they cannot be tested by cross- examination. The inherent unreliability of statements made in documents is explained by Ewart in the following way: All documents, if offered in evidence as proof of the truth of their contents, are hearsay Since documents can only "tell" a trier of fact that which their makers have "told" them, they inevitably make in-court assertions about statements made by someone else outside of the courtroom. ...The view that all documents are hearsay if offered as evidence of the truth of their contents is reinforced when consideration is given to the usual reasons proferred in support of a rule against hearsay evidence. These include the inability to observe the demeanour, credibility, and personality of the declarant whose statement is in issue, the inability to qualify, clarify or cast doubt upon the statement by cross- examination, and the fact that ordinarily the declaration, unlike the rest of the evidence before the court, will not have been given under o a t h . 1 3 Nevertheless, as Wigmore points out in his introduction to the exceptions to the hearsay rule, in certain cases, the circumstances in which the statement was made make its probable trustworthiness practically sufficient to those statements tested by cross-examination. Moreover, it may not be possible to test a witness' assertion. The witness may be dead, out of the jurisdiction, insane, or otherwise unavailable at the "Ibid., para. 1172. '"According to Laurence H. Tribe, such deficiencies, distortions or suppressions "are usually attributed to the four testimonial infirmities of ambiguity, insincerity, faulty perception, and erroneous memory." For a discussion of these infirmities, see Tribe, "Triangulating Hearsay." Harvard Law Review 87 (1974): 957-974. 1 1 Wigmore on Evidence, vol. 4, para. 1172. 1 2 Charles T. McCormick, McCormick's Handbook of the Law of Evidence, edited by Edward W. Cleary, 2 n d ed. (St. Paul, Minn.: West Publishing, 1972), 584. 1 3 J. Douglas Ewart et al., Documentary Evidence in Canada (Agincourt, Ont.: Carswell, 1984), 12 (hereafter cited as Ewart on Documentary Evidence). 45 time of trial. If the testimony is to be taken at all, therefore, it must be taken in its untested shape. These two conditions - a circumstantial probability of trustworthiness and necessity - create the overarching principles of all the exceptions to the hearsay rule. In his discussion of these two principles in the specific context of the business records exception to the hearsay rule, Ewart argues that the principle of trustworthiness is by far the more compelling: a court can feel relatively comfortable in breaking new ground if it has been satisfied that the circumstances of the document's creation provide an adequate substitute for the traditional safeguard of cross-examination. The proponent of a document should seek to persuade the court that the document, because of the circumstances of its creation, is inherently reliable. If this is done, then the necessity doctrine can likely be satisfied simply by demonstrating that there is no other equally convenient way to put before the court the information in question. 1 4 No uniform standard has been developed for measuring acceptable degrees of trustworthiness or necessity in particular cases. Instead, the principles tend to be applied on a case by case basis and different cases dictate different applications of the principles. At common law, declarations made in the course of a business duty are treated as an exception to the hearsay rule because they are considered to be sufficiently trustworthy. Wigmore has identified three distinct but related reasons why entries that are recorded systematically and habitually in the ordinary course of business are likely to possess a degree of trustworthiness sufficient to justify their admissibility: (1) The habit and system of making such a record with regularity calls for accuracy through the interest and purpose of the entrant; and the influence of habit may be relied on, by very inertia, to prevent casual inaccuracies and to counteract the possible temptation to misstatements (2) Since the entries record a regular course of business transactions, an error or misstatement is almost certain to be detected and the result disputed by those dealing with the entrant; misstatements cannot safely be made, if at all, except by a systematic and comprehensive plan of falsification. As a rule, this fact (if no motive of honesty obtained) would deter all but the most daring and unscrupulous from attempting the task; the ordinary man may be assumed to decline to undertake it. In the long run this operates with fair effect to secure accuracy. u Ibid., 14. 46 (3) If, in addition to this, the entrant makes the record under a duty to an employer or other superior, there is the additional risk of censure and disgrace from the superior, in case of inaccuracies - a motive on the whole the most powerful and most palpable of the three. 1 5 The traditional requirements for admitting declarations made under a business duty were, that: the declarant had to be deceased; the declarant must have been under a duty to act and to record the thing done; the declarant must have observed the act; the act must have been completed; the declarant must have made the statement contemporaneously with the act; the declarant must not have had any motive to misrepresent; and collateral matters in the statement were inadmissible. 1 6 As Sopinka observes, strict adherence to these requirements often led to anachronistic results. 1 7 In 1970, the Supreme Court of Canada restated and expanded the common law exception in order to adapt it to the modern reality of recordkeeping. The case in question, Ares v. Venner, 1 8 involved a malpractice suit against a physician in which nurses' notes were sought to be admitted. The Court's decision reflected a more flexible approach to the exception, one that placed less emphasis on technical rules of exclusion and more emphasis on the principles of necessity and trustworthiness underlying the rules. The Supreme Court determined that the records were admissible on grounds of both necessity 1 9 and trustworthiness. 2 0 The trustworthiness of the notes was based on the fact that in a hospital where a patient's health is at stake, every effort would be made to keep accurate notes; secondly, since the nurses had no interest, apart from their duty, in keeping such notes, they had no motive to misrepresent the information in them; thirdly, the nurses were unlikely to have any independent memory apart from the notes they made; therefore, the notes would be superior to any oral testimony the nurses might give. The Court determined that all of these factors created a circumstantial probability of trustworthiness which justified admitting the nurses' notes without requiring the declarants to be called as witnesses. 2 1 1 5 Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1974), vol. 5, para. 1522. 1 6 John Sopinka, et al., The Law of Evidence in Canada (Toronto and Vancouver: Butterworths, 1992), 188-189 (hereafter cited as Sopinka on Evidence). See also Anthony Sheppard, Evidence, rev. ed. (Toronto: Carswell, 1996), para. 783-789 (hereafter cited as Sheppard on Evidence). Sopinka on Evidence, 190-92. 1 8 [1970] S.C.R. 608, 12 C.R.N.S. 349,14 D.L.R. (3d) 4, 73 W.W.R. 347. 1 9 The arguments for necessity were not based on witness availability since the nurses were present in the courtroom during the trial. Instead necessity was defined in terms of mercantile inconvenience, cost to the parties, and cost to the public in the increased length of trial. See Sopinka on Evidence, 192. 20 The original trial judge in Ares v. Venner relied on Wigmore's discussion of hospital records in allowing the nurses' notes to be admitted. The Supreme Court's reasons for decision are strikingly similar to the ones Wigmore provides. See Wigmore on Evidence (Chadbourn rev., 1976), vol. 6, para. 1707. 1 Sopinka on Evidence, 192. The effect of the nurses' presence in the courtroom on the Court's decision to admit the notes does not appear to be settled. Hall, J. stated that the presence of the nurses in the courtroom eliminated any hearsay dangers posed by faulty perception or inaccuracy since the opponent could have put the nurses on the stand to test their perceptions. In R. v. Khan, 47 Ares v. Venner has resulted in at least two changes to the common law exception. First, it has eliminated the traditional requirement that a declarant be deceased. Secondly, it has opened the door to courts admitting recorded opinions, so long as those opinions "fall within the declarant's normal scope of duty." 2 2 Certain of the traditional common-law requirements, however, remain unaffected by the Ares decision. At common law, the general principle of testimonial evidence, i.e., that the person whose oral or written statement is received as testimony should speak from personal observation or knowledge, applies to declarations made in the course of a business duty. A testimonial assertion requires the presence of three elements: observation, recollection, and communication. 2 3 Ares and subsequent court decisions have confirmed the traditional requirement that the declarant have personal knowledge of the information recorded. 2 4 Subsequent court decisions have also maintained that the Ares doctrine only applies to records kept pursuant to a business duty on the grounds that only those records possess a circumstantial guarantee of trustworthiness.2 5 The modern common-law exception to the hearsay rule, in the wake of Ares v. Venner, thus appears to make admissible a record containing an original entry, made contemporaneously, in the routine of business, by a recorder with personal knowledge of the thing recorded, as a result of having done or observed or formulated it, who had a duty to make the record, and who had no motive to misrepresent the information in however, McLachlin, J. maintained that the nurses' presence was irrelevant to the decision since any testimony from the nurses probably would have been a futile exercise in terms of testing their memory of the events they recorded. Moreover, since the proponent of the evidence had not called the nurses to testify, the opponent would not be able to cross-examine the nurses; he or she could only lead evidence. See R. v. Khan [1990] 2 S.C.R. 531, 59 C.C.C. (3d) 92, 79 C R . (3d) 1, 41, O.A.C. 353, 11 W.C.B. (2d) 10,113 N.R. 53, cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 194. 2 2 Sopinka on Evidence, 195. 2 3 Wigmore, Evidence at Common Law (Chadbourn rev., 1979), vol. 2, para. 478. But see also Wigmore, (Chadbourn rev., 1974), vol. 5, para. 1530, in which he argues that the principle of testimonial assertion does not necessarily exclude all entries made by persons not having personal knowledge of the facts recorded. Wigmore concludes that, "where an entry is made by one person in the regular course of business, recording an oral or written report, made to him by other persons in the regular course of business, of a transaction lying in the personal knowledge of the latter persons, there is no objection to receiving that entry under the present exception, verified by the testimony of the former person only, or of a superior who testifies to the regular course of business, provided the practical inconvenience of producing on the stand the numerous other persons thus concerned would in the particular case outweigh the probable utility of doing so." His conclusion is generally accepted in the business records provision of the Evidence Acts. See also Ewart on Documentary Evidence, 61-65, in which Ewart argues for an expansion of the common-law exception to allow for the admissibility of declarations made by a person without personal knowledge of the facts recorded on the grounds of "transmitted duty." 2 4 In Setak Computer Services Corp. v. Burroughs Business Machines, Ltd., (1977), 15 O.R. (2d) 750, 76 D.L.R. (3d) 641 (H.C.J.) at 755 (O.R.), Griffiths, J., stated, "in my opinion, the common law exception applies only to writings or records made by a person speaking from personal observation or knowledge of the facts recorded." Cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 197. 2 5 In R. v. Laverty ((1979), 47 C.C.C. (2d) 60, 9 C R . (3d) 288 (Ont. CA.)), an arson case, the Ontario Court of Appeal ruled that notes prepared by a deceased fire investigator were inadmissible as hearsay because they were merely an aide-memoire which the investigator kept for himself and which he was not under a duty to make. Cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 197-98 48 it.*5 Ewart suggests that the most significant consequence of Ares v. Venner is not so much "the specific relaxations of the common law rule enunciated therein, but rather the inculcation of an attitudinal shift from exclusion towards expanded admissibility of hearsay." 2 7 The principled approach adopted in Ares also has been applied to situations outside the hospital setting. 2 8 Although it has been adapted to meet the modern reality of record-keeping, the common law rule is still fairly restrictive and prohibits the admissibility of a large variety of business records. To allow for greater admissibility of modern business records, new exceptions have been developed by legislation, specifically, through the addition of business record provisions to the federal, provincial and territorial Evidence A c t s . 2 9 The provisions are modelled on comparable American statutes. Under the Canada Evidence Act, records "created in the usual and ordinary course of business" 3 0 are admissible. The provincial Evidence Acts of British Columbia, Manitoba, Nova Scotia, Ontario and Saskatchewan have the additional requirement that "it must have been in the usual and ordinary course of business to create such records." The additional criterion has been defended on the grounds that it reinforces the record's circumstantial probability of trustworthiness by prohibiting the introduction of potentially self-serving evidence. The case cited in support of the additional criterion is Palmer v. Hoffman, an American case involving an action arising out of a railroad crossing accident. 3 1 In that case, the defendant attempted to admit into evidence a report of the accident made by the deceased train engineer to officials at the freight office. Although the engineer's report was made in relation to his employment, the Supreme Court of the United States held that it was inadmissible on the grounds that such reports have nothing to do with the z 0 Ewart on Documentary Evidence, 54. 2 7 Ibid. 2 8 Cargil Grain Ltd., v. Davie Ship Building Ltd., [1977] 1 S.C.R. 569,10 N.R. 347 (S.C.C.); Setak Computer Services Corp. v. Burroughs Business Machines, Ltd., (1977), 15 O.R. (2d) 750, 76 D.L.R. (3d) 641 (H.C.J.); but see also Woods v. Elias, (1978), 21 O.R. (2d) 840 (Co. Ct.), where Court held that application of the Ares principle was restricted to hospital records. All cases above cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 196. 2 9 Canada Evidence Act, R.S.C. 1985, c. C-5, s. 30 [am. 1994, c. 44, s. 91]; Evidence Act, R.S.B.C. 1979, C. 116, s. 48; Manitoba Evidence Act, R.S.M. 1987, c. E150 (also C.C.S.M., c. E150), s. 49; Saskatchewan Evidence Act, R.S.S. 1978, c. S-16, s. 31; Evidence Act, R.S.0.1990, c.E.23, s. 35; Evidence Act, R.S.Y.T. 1986, c. 57, s. 37; Evidence Act, R.S.N.W.T. 1988, c. E-8, s. 47; Evidence Act, R.S.P.E.I. 1988, c. E-11, s. 32; see also Alberta Evidence Act, R.S.A. 1980, c ' A - 2 1 , s. 36(1). All the above cases cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 783, fn. 3. 3 0 Canada Evidence Act, s. 30(1). For the purposes of this provision, "business" is defined as "any business, profession, trade, calling, manufacture or undertaking of any kind carried on in Canada or elsewhere whether for profit or otherwise, including any activity or operation carried on or performed in Canada or elsewhere by any government, by any department, branch, board, commission or agency of any government, by any court or other tribunal or by any other body or authority performing a function of government". S.30(12), "business". The definition of "business" in the provincial and territorial business record provisions is similarly broad. 3 1 318 U.S. 109, 63 S. Ct. 477 (1943), cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 200, n. 139. Sopinka points out that, although it is an American case, the two criteria were included in a Federal provision worded similarly to the Canadian provincial enactments. The summary of the case that follows is based on Sopinka's discussion in Sopinka on Evidence, 200-201. 49 day to day operation and management of the railroad business. While the Court acknowledged that most businesses are concerned with litigation and therefore are in the practice of taking statements from employees when an accident occurs, the primary purpose of such reports is to assist in the lawsuit rather than in the running of the railway business. The Court was concerned that admitting such reports could invite abuse since businesses might be motivated to introduce self-serving evidence, i.e., statements which reflect their own version of such events. The Court determined, therefore, that in order to come within the business records statute: it must be shown to be a record which is necessary for the systematic and mechanical conduct of the business as a commercial enterprise. ...The trustworthiness of business documents is based on the reliability placed on such records by the commercial world. In the absence of routineness, there exists the danger that the maker of the record may not be motivated to be accurate. It is the mercantile nature of the record which attracts trustworthiness, not just the fact that the document was prepared in the regular course of business. 3 2 Sopinka observes that "the implied introduction into business record legislation that there be no motive to misrepresent is consistent with the requirements of the traditional common-law exception." 3 3 Although the Canada Evidence Act does not include the second criterion, there must be some demonstration that the document was made in the usual and ordinary course of business. The fact that a document was prepared by a business organization may not be, in itself, sufficient to qualify it for admissibility The provincial business record provisions require that the record be made at or near the time of the act, transaction, occurrence or event recorded. Although the Canada Evidence Act does not specifically require contemporaneous recording, it does allow the court to investigate the total "circumstances in which the information contained in the record was written, recorded, stored or reproduced, and draw any reasonable inference from the form or content of the r e c o r d . " 3 5 The Court in Setak v. Burroughs emphasized the significance of contemporaneous recording when it stated that: A substantial factor in the reliability of any system of records is the promptness with which transactions are recorded. Unless it appears from the context of the record, or the testimony of the witness introducing the writings or records into evidence that the act, transaction, occurrence or event described therein occurred within a reasonable time before the making of the writing or record, then such **«>&/., 201. 3 3 Ibid. See also ibid., 210-12 for further discussion of the implied requirement of an absence of a motive to misrepresent in court interpretations of the business record provisions. 3 4 Ibid., 203. 3 5 Canada Evidence Act, s. 30(6). 50 writing or record should not be admitted for the purpose of proving those matters. Where there is some delay in transcribing, then in each case, it would seem to me, the Court must decide, as a matter of fact, whether the time span between the transaction and the recording was so great as to suggest the danger of inaccuracy by lapse of m e m o r y . 3 6 The connection statutory law draws between contemporaneous recording and trustworthiness is consistent with the common l a w . 3 7 The most significant difference between the common law exception and legislative business record provisions is the latter's acceptance of hearsay and even second-hand or double hearsay. The Evidence Acts of British Columbia, Manitoba, Saskatchewan and Ontario explicitly state that the lack of personal knowledge by the maker of the record does not affect its admissibility, though it may affect its weight. 3 8 However, courts have been consistent in asserting that second-hand hearsay is only admissible under these provisions if the maker of the record and the supplier of the information recorded were both acting in the usual and ordinary course of business. 3 9 In confirming this requirement, Canadian courts have cited the decision of the New York Court of Appeals in Johnson v Lutz,40 an action arising out of a motorcycle accident. The Court in that case ruled that statements contained in a police officer's report were inadmissible because they were based on information provided voluntarily to the officer by a bystander, rather than on the officer's personal knowledge. Since the bystander was not under any duty to make a statement to the police officer, the trustworthiness of his statement was compromised. The Court held that "to come within the statutory provision ...it had to be shown not only that the maker of the record was acting pursuant to a business Setak Computer Services Corp. v. Burroughs Business Machines Ltd., (1977), 15 O.R. (2d) 750, 76 D.L.R. (3d) 641 (H.C.J.), at 760-61. Quoted in Sopinka on Evidence, 203-4.. 3 7 According to Wigmore, "the entry should have been made at or near the time of the transaction recorded - not merely because this is necessary in order to assure a fairly accurate recollection of the matter, but because any trustworthy habit of making regular business records will ordinarily involve the making of the record contemporaneously. The rule fixes no precise time; each case must depend on its own circumstances." Wigmore on Evidence, vol. 5, para. 1526. 3 8 British Columbia, s. 48(2); Manitoba, s. 49(4); Saskatchewan, s. 31 (3); Ontario, s. 35(4); Winnipeg South Child & Family Services v. R.S. (1986), 40 Man. R. (2d) 64 at 68 (Q.B.) (second-hand hearsay not warranting any weight.). All of the above cases cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 801, fn. 4. See also Sopinka on Evidence, 204-5. 3 9 Matheson v. Barnes, [1981] 2 W.W.R. 435 (B.C.S.C.); Setak Computer Services Corp. v. Burroughs Business Machines Ltd. (1977), 15 O.R. (2d) 76 D.L.R. (3d) 641 (Ont. H.C.); Olynyv. Yeo [1989] 3 W.W.R. 314 (B.C.C.A.); Can-Dive Services Ltd., v. Pacific Coast Energy Corp. (1994), 32 C.P.C. (3d) 103 (B.C.S.C.); Hunt v. Westbank Irrigation District, [1991 ] 6 W.W.R. 549 at 556 (B.C.S.C.); see also Fox v. White (1990), 39 C.P.C. (2d) 221 (Alta. C.A.); but see Manitoba Evidence Act, s. 58(1)(a)(ii)(b)(2) (record containing second-hand hearsay admissible if maker prepared it as part of continuous record, under duty to record, and person supplying information had personal knowledge; maker called as witness if available); Reitze v. Brusser, [1979] 1 W.W.R. 27 (Man. Q.B.). All of the above cases cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 802, fn. 1. 4 0 253 N.Y. 124, 170 N.E. 517 (1930, N.Y.C.A.), cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 204. The wording of the relevant provision in the New York statute is analogous to that of the provincial business record provisions. 51 duty, but that the person from whom he received the information was acting under a business duty as well. It is the business element of the record which gives it credence and efficacy."4 1 Ontario Courts have confirmed that the mere fact that recording of a third party statement is routine imports no guarantee of the truth of the statement ....[the business record provision] of the [Ontario] Evidence Act should be interpreted as making hearsay statements admissible when both the maker of the writing or the entrant of the record, and the information or informants, if more than one, are each acting in the usual and ordinary course of business in entering and communicating an account of an act, transaction, occurrence or event. 4 2 The same rationale is evident in Adderly v. Bremner43 in which parts of a hospital record which related to occurrences taking place prior to admission and recorded as part of the patient's case history were held to be inadmissible because the statements made by the patient to his doctor and recorded in a hospital note were considered self-serving. Speaking for the court, Brooke, J. observed that he did not believe the Ontario Legislature intended "to open to a plaintiff a means of escaping the test of truth through cross-examination by resort to the hospital history record." 4 4 The business record provision of the Canada Evidence Act lacks a subsection stating that a lack of personal knowledge will not affect the admissibility of the business record; the admissibility of hearsay under the federal Act, therefore, is not as straightforward as it is in provincial enactments. 4 5 Nevertheless, Courts have tended to interpret the provision as permitting the admissibility of hearsay and double hearsay. The issue was considered by the Court in R. v Grimba, a case in which the Crown sought to introduce a fingerprint identification record obtained from the U.S. Federal Bureau of Investigation. The record was admitted on the grounds of its inherent trustworthiness: Section 30 was placed into the Act in 1968 ...It would appear that the rationale behind that section for admitting a form of hearsay evidence is the inherent circumstantial guarantee of accuracy which one would find in a business context from records which are relied upon in the day to day affairs of individual businesses, and which are subsequent 4 1 Sopinka on Evidence, 205. 4 2 Griffiths, J., in Setak Computer Services Corp. v. Burroughs Business Machines Ltd. (1977), 15 O.R. (2d) 750, 76 D.L.R. (3d) 641 (Ont. H.C.), at 762-63 (O.R.), cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 206. 4 3 Adderly v. Bremner (1967), 67 D.L.R. (2d) 274 (Ont. H.C.), cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 205-206. 4 4 Sopinka on Evidence, 206. 4 5 Section 30(1) reads "where oral evidence in respect of a matter would be admissible in a legal proceeding." According to Sopinka, "the statute merely provides a method of proof of an admissible fact. It does not make the document admissible when oral testimony of the same fact would be inadmissible. One interpretation that is open is that if the maker of the record took the witness stand he could not testify as to what someone else told him. That would be inadmissible as hearsay and the same limitation applies to business records under s. 30 of the Canada Evidence Act." Sopinka on Evidence, 207. 52 [sic] to frequent testing and cross-checking. Records thus systematically stored, produced and regularly relied upon should, it would appear under s. 30, not be barred from the Court's consideration simply because they contained hearsay or double hearsay. 4 6 In other court decisions, the weight of authority has favoured the admissibility of double hearsay under section 3 0 4 7 The acceptance of hearsay under these conditions moves the criteria for the circumstantial guarantee of trustworthiness further from the traditional common law criteria for testimonial assertion, i.e., observation, recollection, communication. The modern common law, in the aftermath of Ares v. Venner, allows the introduction of statements of opinion so long as they were given in the course of a business duty. Court interpretations of provincial business record provisions, however, have ruled such statements inadmissible. 4 8 The Ontario Court in Adderly v. Bremner, for example, excluded "hospital records, which contain subjective data such as a doctor or nurse's diagnosis, opinion or impression, on the ground that these do not constitute 'an act, transaction, occurrence, or event', within the meaning of the words in the provincial provision. 4 9 The wording of the Canada Evidence Act is less restrictive since it refers to "evidence in respect of a matter" rather than to "an act, transaction, occurrence or event". Sopinka suggests that "it could be argued that the use of the general word 'matter' contemplates records containing opinions and other subjective data." 5 0 Sopinka also finds support for a broader interpretation of the provincial provisions in McCormick who maintains that, "the opinion rule should be restricted to governing the manner of presenting courtroom testimony and should have little application to the admissibility of out-of-court statements."5 1 4 6 R. v. Grimba (1977), 38 C.C.C. (2d) 469 (Ont. Co. Ct.), at 471. Quoted in Sopinka on Evidence, 208. 4 7 R.. v. Boles (1984), 57 A.R. 232 at 235 (C.A.); R. v. Anthes Bus. Forms Ltd., 10 O.R. (2d) 153 at 174; affirmed [1978] 1 S.C.R. 970; R. v. Sanghi (1971), 6 C.C.C. (2d) 123 (N.S.C.A.); R. v. Penno, [1977] 3 W.W.R. 361 (B.C.C.A.); see also R. v. Monkhouse, [1988] 1 W.W.R. 725 (Alta., CA.) (payroll employee transcribing time cards onto payroll sheets not required to give evidence; proper admission of payroll manager's evidence extracted from poayroll records); Apsassin v. Can. (1987), 17 C.P.C. (2d) 187 (Fed. T.D.) (Indian agent reports being hearsay because made through interpreter but still admissible; trustworthiness required of document not demanding that court be absolutely convinced evidence totally devoid of human error; no reason to believe interpreter biased; both parties agreeing to interpreter thus interpreter merely conduit). All cases above cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 798, n. 1. 4 8 Adderly v. Bremner (1967), 67 D.L.R. (2d) 274 (Ont. H.C); Aynsley v. Toronto General Hospital (1967), 66 D.L.R. (2d) 575; varied 7 D.L.R. (3d) 193; affirmed 25 D.L.R. (3d) 241 (sub nom. Toronto General Hospital Trustees v. Matthews) (S.C.C.) [Ont.]; de Genova v. de Genova (1971), 5 R.F.L. 22 (Ont. H.C); see also Thompson v. Toorenburgh (1973), 50 D.L.R. (3d) 717; affirmed without written reasons 50 D.L.R. (3d) 717n (S.C.C.) [B.C.]. All of the above cases cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 801, n. 5. Sopinka on Evidence, 208. 5 0 Ibid., 209. 5 1 McCormick on Evidence, 3 r d ed. (St. Paul: West Publishing, 1984), 875, quoted in Sopinka on Evidence, 209. See also Ewart on Documentary Evidence, 65-66. 53 The hearsay exception granted to statements in public documents at common law, also known as official statements, 5 2 emphasizes the circumstantial probability of trustworthiness that derives from the fact that the statement is recorded by a public officer in pursuance of an official duty. The exception is supported by a presumption of due performance of duty. 5 3 As Wigmore explains: The fundamental circumstance is that an official duty exists to make an accurate statement, and that this special and weighty duty will usually suffice as a motive to incite the officer to its fulfilment. The duty may or may not be one for whose violation a penalty is expressly prescribed. The officer may or may not be one from whom in advance an express oath of office is required ....It is the influence of the official duty, broadly considered, which is taken as the sufficient element of trustworthiness, justifying the acceptance of the hearsay statement. 5 4 Although, in some cases, the presumption of official duty is, in Wigmore's words, "more a fiction than a fact," it is, nevertheless, "a fiction which we can hardly afford in our law openly to repudiate." 5 5 The circumstantial probability of trustworthiness is bolstered by the requirement that the subject matter of the statement be of a public nature, prepared for a public purpose, and with a view to being retained and kept as a public record. 5 6 English courts require, in addition, that the documents be made available to the public at all times on the grounds that, "where an official record is one necessarily subject to public inspection, the facility and certainty with which errors would be exposed and corrected furnishes a special and additional guarantee of accuracy." 5 7 While English courts require publicity as an incentive to accuracy, some Canadian courts have rejected it as a requirement. 5 8 Courts have also determined that the public official need not have personal knowledge of the facts recorded and the information may be supplied by private citizens. 5 9 At common law, official statements fall into three categories: a register or record, which "comprises in a single volume or file a series of homogeneous statements, recorded by entries made more or less regularly." A register or record is kept in official custody. Typical examples of registers and records are birth, marriage, and death registers, vital statistics and records of conveyance. A return or report "is a single document made separately for each transaction as occasion arises." It too is preserved in official custody. A certificate, on the other hand, "is not preserved by the official, but is given out by him to an applicant for the tatter's use." Typical examples of certificates are birth, marriage, and death certificates as well as certified copies of public documents. From Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1974), vol. 5, para. 1636. 5 3 According to Wigmore, "The general experience that a rule of official duty or a requirement of legal conditions is fulfilled by those upon whom it is incumbent has given rise occasionally to a presumption of due performance of official duty. This presumption is more often mentioned than enforced; and its scope as a real presumption is indefinite and hardly capable of reduction to rules." Wigmore on Evidence (Chadbourn rev., 1981), vol. 9, para. 2534. See also Sopinka on Evidence, 119. 5 4 Wigmore on Evidence, vol. 5 (Chadbourn rev., 1974), para. 1632. 5 5 Ibid. 5 6 See Sheppard on Evidence, para. 818-822; Sopinka on Evidence, 231. 5 7 Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1974), vol. 5, para. 1632. 5 8 Nowlan v. Elderkin, [1950] 3 D.L.R. 773 (N.S.T.D.), cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 823.. 5 9 Finestone v. R., [1953] 2 S.C.R. 107 at 108 [Que.]; R v. Hatpin, [1975] Q.B. 907 (C.A.), cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 824. 54 Many statutes contain provisions governing the admissibility of specific types of public or government records, which avoid the common law restrictions. In addition, the various Evidence Acts contain broad provisions to simplify the admissibility of public records. For example, section 26 of the Canada Evidence A c t 6 0 allows for the introduction of certified copies of government records, as satisfying the requirements of the hearsay rule, the best evidence rule, and authentication. As the exceptions to the hearsay rule demonstrate, the legal rules governing reliability are grounded in a number of generalizations about the relationship between records and the reality they purport to represent. Some of these relate to the nature of records, others to the nature of bureaucracy, and, others still, to the nature of facts in adjudication. The legitimacy of the third generalization, which is an intrinsic part of the rationalist tradition of evidence scholarship, has been the subject of some debate in the legal literature.6 1 The debate centers around the distinction drawn in law between questions of fact and questions of law. Adrian Zuckerman explains the distinction in the following way: The law has to be applied to the facts of the case. The facts of the case are either admitted by the parties or ascertained by the court: either way they are not governed by the law. The law determines which types of facts give rise to rights and duties; the facts of the individual case are not themselves created by the law, but exist in the world that lies beyond the law. When the facts are disputed, the function of the legal process is to learn what these facts are so that the appropriate legal results may then follow. In other words, the judicial fact-finding process looks beyond the law into the world and ascertains what the facts look like out there. I shall refer to this as the assumption of objectivity in adjudication. 6 2 In accordance with this model, questions of fact, which refer to concrete occurrences in the real world, are rigorously separated from questions of law, which refer to normative principles or values. Responsibility for determining the former falls to the fact-finder (either jury or judge) whereas responsibility for the latter falls to the judge alone. The distinction between fact and law, however, is more apparent than real. As 6 0 Section 26(1) states that, "a copy of any entry in any book kept in any office or department of the Government of Canada, or in any commission, board or other branch of the public service of Canada, shall be received as evidence of such entry, and of the matters, transactions and accounts therein recorded, if it is proved by the oath or affidavit of an officer of such department, commission, board or other branch of the public service, that he book was, at the time of the making of the entry, one of the ordinary books kept in such office, department, commission, board or other branch of the public service, that the entry was made in the usual and ordinary course of business of such office, department, commission, board, or other branch of the public service, and that such copy is a true copy thereof.", R.S.C. 1985, c. C-5. 6 1 The generalizations concerning the nature of records and the nature of bureaucracy are also a matter of some debate. They will be discussed in more detail in chapter 3 and chapter 4 respectively. 6 2 Adrian A.S. Zuckerman, "Law, Fact or Justice?" Boston University Law Review 66 (May/July 1986): 487. 55 Tillers observes, a good deal of legal literature "in the realist vein" as well as literature on epistemology support the view that "all factual assessments involve a normative component; that all normative analysis (broadly understood) inextricably involves factual assessments; and that it is in principle not possible to draw a sharp line between the two types of analysis and decisionmaking." 6 3 Moreover, Tillers maintains: To talk about factual investigations as though they involve only questions concerning the existence or nonexistence of some phenomenon or event may obscure the fact that we often answer the question, What happened? only by deciding how to characterize some events that are known to us. (An analogous thesis is the now familiar claim in philosophy of science that facts are theory-dependent.) In short, in many cases a reasonably accurate description of what (probably) happened cannot be given unless the observer evaluates the significance of various events known to him (or that he assumes to be true); frequently — if not always - a factual investigation requires not only a determination of whether certain physical events occurred but also a determination of how such events should be interpreted or pieced together in order to answer adequately the question, What h a p p e n e d ? 6 4 6 3 Wigmore on Evidence, (Tillers rev., 1983), vol. 1, para. 1, n. 2. According to William Twining, the rationalist tradition of evidence scholarship acknowledges the difficulty of separating questions of fact from questions of value. He asserts that, "[w]hile it is true that for certain purposes ...we have to proceed as if questions of fact can be and have been sharply distinguished from questions of value ...even within the Rationalist Tradition it is widely acknowledged that triers of fact are regularly and unavoidably involved in making evaluations." William Twining, "Some Scepticism about Some Scepticism," in Rethinking Evidence: Exploratory Essays (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1990), 107. The inevitable intertwining of fact and law is also acknowledged in civil law jurisdictions notwithstanding the fact that civil law decisionmakers are required to provide separate reasons for factual findings and legal determinations. The most sophisticated view of modern continental legal theorists is stated by Mirjan Damaska as follows: "You cannot decide which facts matter unless you have already selected, at least tentatively, applicable decisional standards. But most of the time you cannot properly understand these legal standards without relating them to the factual situation of the case." Mirjan Damaska, "Presentation of Evidence and Factfinding Precision," University of Pennsylvania Law Review 23 (May 1975): 1087. 6 4 Wigmore on Evidence, (Tillers rev., 1983), vol. 1, para. 1, n. 2. A similar point is made by Michael Seigel, who argues that, "[tjhere is no question that in some subset of cases the jury's job is essentially an objective one and the degree to which the jury has accurately determined historical truth is a full and coherent measure of the jury's performance. But in many cases the jury's task is a complex mix of positive and normative endeavours. This is true in every tort case where the ultimate question is whether a party was "reasonably prudent," designed a "defective product," or was the "proximate cause" of an injury; in every contract case where the issue is whether a party acted in "good faith," exercised "reasonable reliance," or provided "substantial performance" ...In cases of the latter kind, the jury's task is best described as choosing between competing characterizations - that is, subjective interpretations - of essentially uncontested facts, and the jury's verdict is best understood as a normative judgement about the conduct of one or more of the parties." Michael L. Seigel, "A Pragmatic Critique of Modern Evidence Scholarship," Northwestern University Law Review 88 (1994): 1015-1016. 56 In any factual investigation, there are, according to Mirjan Damaska, at least two different kinds of "facts" that have to be established, each of which requires a different kind of mental operation. He cites, as an example, a manslaughter charge arising out of reckless driving in which: ...[t]he decisionmaker must determine the truth of a certain number of propositions regarding "external facts," such as the speed of the automobile, the condition of the road, the traffic signals, the driver's identity, and so on. The mental operations required to ascertain such "external facts" belong primarily to the sphere of sensory experience. The inquiry here appears to be relatively objective, and the "truth" about such facts does not seem to be too elusive. But many "internal facts" will also have to be established in the imagined case. They regard aspects of the defendant's knowledge and volition, to the extent to which these are important for the application of the relevant legal standard. The ascertainment of such facts is already a far less objective undertaking than the ascertainment of facts derived by the senses: processes of inductive inference from external facts are the most frequently travelled cognitive road. Even so, we do not hesitate to accord roughly the same cognitive status to findings regarding these internal facts as we do to findings of external facts. 6 5 Other writers have pointed out that the existence of interpersonal events, i.e., those involving human interaction and intentionality, "may be determined only if one knows the rules by which the actors attach significance or meaning to various events." Moreover, they point out, "the methods we use to determine the significance and meaning attached by the actors to their actions may differ essentially from the methods we normally use to determine whether a given physical or natural event, not involving human intentions, occurred or did not occur." 6 6 These observations underline the point that any act of communication, whether oral or written, contains a code that needs to be deciphered before it can be clearly understood. The complexity of communicative acts, however, is rarely taken into account in the legal assessment of record reliability. A specific assumption underpinning the business records exception to the hearsay rule concerns the relationship between the observer/recorder and the event observed/recorded. Business records are seen as a source of information that permit us to make inferences about the real world. "Record-writing," according to Stanley Raffel, "must depend on some kind of interesting segregating procedure by which two things, a record and the 'world' are, first, differentiated from each other and, then, related to each other so as to make the one, ideally, 'about' the other." 6 7 Because business records are assumed to reflect events in the real world, they depend for their Mirjan DamaSka, "Presentation of Evidence," 1085. Wigmore on Evidence, (Tillers rev., 1983), vol. 1, para. 1, n. 2. Stanley Raffel, Matters of Fact: A Sociological Inquiry (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1979), 17. 57 reliability o n the claim of the observer to have been present at those e v e n t s . 0 8 P r e s e n c e is, thus, posited a s a solution to the problem of knowledge where knowledge resides in the local nature of specific events. Accordingly, the exception to the h e a r s a y rule aims to ensure that the record is an accurate reflection of those events, o n e that is uncontaminated by the distorting influence of bias, interpretation, or unwarranted opinion o n the part of the observer/recorder. 6 9 In other words, the observer/recorder must be present to witness and transcribe what Raffel calls "the world's speech," but he or s h e must not contaminate that speech. Raffel explains the grounds for the activity of observing/recording in the following way: T o b e a n o b s e r v e r is to be present, to 'be there'. . . . H o w e v e r , although the o b s e r v e r must be concretely present, he is not s u p p o s e d to m a k e a difference. T h e contact of observation must be direct a n d unidirectional in that the contact flows from event to observer, so that the record c a n be direct a n d u n e n c u m b e r e d by the observer's opinion . . . . T h e a c h i e v e m e n t of the observer is the achievement of a b s e n c e through p r e s e n c e . T h e responsible observer is o n e who c a n m a k e what he o b s e r v e s responsible for what he o b s e r v e s . . . r e c o r d users c a n know the event through the record b e c a u s e , since the record h a s not b e e n affected by the observer, it b e c o m e s u n n e c e s s a r y to understand the o b s e r v e r in order to understand the record. T h e record s p e a k s for A s Marilyn M a c C r i m m o n points out, the belief that it is possible to s e p a r a t e the o b s e r v e r from the event he or she is observing: ...reflects the C a r t e s i a n model of the mind which a s s u m e d that "the natural operations of the mind do not err unless they are disturbed by incidental a n d extraneous factors s u c h a s prejudice, p a s s i o n , or impatience." D e s c a r t e s drew a sharp distinction between the mind a n d the body, a s s u m i n g that e a c h could be studied in isolation from the other. U n d e r this model the mind is kept reliable by preventing the intrusion of distorting influences. 7 1 6 8 Such reasoning is evident in Adderley v. Bremner, which excluded a patient history on the grounds that the doctor who wrote down the case history could not certify the accuracy of the information in the record precisely because he was not 'present' when the events he recorded took place. 6 9 Although Ares is frequently credited with opening the door to courts admitting recorded opinions, so long as those opinions "fall within the declarant's normal scope of duty," Ewart maintains that it is incorrect to characterize the nurses' statements as opinions and that it is more accurate to describe them as observations. His comments suggest that there is still some ambiguity about the extent to which observational principles have been relaxed in the common law rules governing the admissibility of business records. See Ewart on Documentary Evidence, 66. 7 0 Raffel, Matters of Fact, 23, 29. 7 1 Marilyn T. MacCrimmon, "Developments in the Law of Evidence: The 1988-89 Term The Process of Proof: Schematic Constraints," The Supreme Court Law Review, 2 n d ser., vol. 1 (Toronto and Vancouver: Butterworths, 1990): 346-347. 58 This view of reality, however, shows little affinity with the one that has emerged from research in several disciplines, among them, philosophy of science, psychology, artificial intelligence, and literary theory. That research, according to MacCrimmon, suggests that, in fact, "it is impossible to see the world except through a lens shaped by our world experiences, culture and internal knowledge structures ...the observer is not separate from the system being studied and ... the act of the observation or measurement alters the thing observed. 7 2 All of these observations concerning the problematic nature of facts in adjudication point to some of the inherent limits of the legal rules governing the reliability of business records. Whereas the documentary exceptions to the hearsay rule are concerned with the reliability of a record's contents, the authentication and best evidence rules are concerned with its identity and integrity. The rule requiring the authentication of documents as a pre-condition to their admissibility is a "quantitative" rule stating that, in given cases, "certain kinds of evidence [are] to be associated with other evidence before the case will go to the jury." 7 3 The rule is met by evidence sufficient to satisfy the court that the document is what it purports to be. The need to establish the authenticity of a record is based on the common sense assumption that whenever a claim involves any element of personal connection with a physical object, that connection must not be presumed, but shown. Records present a particular danger because, unlike other physical objects, e.g., a piece of clothing or furniture, a record purports to declare its ownership on its face, either by a signature or some other means, and fact-finders might be inclined, on sight of a record, to accept that it is all that it purports to be. Therefore, "the general principle has been enforced that a writing purporting to be of a certain authorship cannot go to the jury as possibly genuine, merely on the strength of this purport; there must be some evidence of the genuineness (or execution) of it." 7 4 As Benning, J., explains, "no writing can be received in evidence as a genuine writing until it has been proved to be a genuine one, and none as a forgery until it has been proved to be a forgery. A writing, of itself, is not evidence of the one thing, or of the other. A writing, of itself, is evidence of nothing, and therefore is not, unless accompanied by proof of some sort, admissible as evidence." 7 5 Evidence of execution or authorship may be direct or circumstantial. Anthony Sheppard summarizes the various forms such evidence can take: Direct evidence of authentication may consist of the identification of the document by the writer, a signatory, or an eye-witness to its writing or Ibid., 347-348. The analogous argument in history is that the historian's perspective shapes his presentation of the facts. See infra, chap. 3, 79-80. The main points of similarity and difference between historians' concern with the possibility of objectivity or detachment in the writing of history and the legal discipline's concern with the possibility of impartiality or objectivity in adjudication are discussed in Twining, "Some Scepticism," 103-109. 7 3 Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1972), vol. 4, para. 1172. See also Sheppard on Evidence, para. 529. 7 4 Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1978), vol. 7, para. 2130. 7 5 Benning, J., in Stamper v. Griffin, 20 Ga. 312, 320 (1856), cited in ibid. 59 signing. Circumstantial evidence of authentication may involve handwriting or typewriting identification by a witness who did not see the making or signing of the actual document but who can identify the writing. ...Comparison of hands is another form of circumstantial authentication. ...Finally, the reply letter doctrine is another method of authentication whereby a witness testifies that he received the disputed letter through the mail and it was in response to an earlier letter which he had mailed to the alleged author. 7 6 At common law, the authenticity of declarations made pursuant to a business duty is proved by the testimony of a witness who can testify about the record and the circumstances in which it was created. According to Ewart, "the authenticating witness will usually be someone who is familiar with, or who has supervisory responsibilities over the record-keeping system, where such exists."7 7 Statutory provisions "have eased the requirement of proof of execution ...provided it can be shown that the document fits into the category envisioned by the statute." 7 8 In the federal and provincial Evidence Acts, for example, the authenticity of business records may be proved by foundation evidence that the records were made in the usual and ordinary course of business. Such evidence may be given orally or by a f f i d a v i t 7 9 It has long been established' under the statutory business record provisions that "the witness offering the required foundation evidence need not have any personal knowledge of the matters described or even of the general subject matter. Instead, it was sufficient if the witness could testify to the record-keeping system in effect when the record was made." 8 0 As Ewart points out, "this is a logical requirement, since the common law has always looked to the trustworthiness of the duty or system as a guarantee of the accuracy of the material recorded in the record." 8 1 Under section 26(1) of the Canada Evidence Act, government records are admitted under analogous conditions. Under specified conditions, certain documents are presumed to be authentic. For public documents, the fact that the records have been found in official custody Sheppard on Evidence, para. 531. See also Sopinka on Evidence, 950-53, 965; Wigmore on Evidence, Chadbourn rev., 1974), vol. 5, para. 2133, 2134, 2153. 7 7 Ewart on Documentary Evidence, 69. 7 8 Sopinka on Evidence, 953. 7 9 Section 30(6) of the Canada Evidence Act stipulates that "the court may, on production of any record, examine the record, admit any evidence in respect thereof given orally or by affidavit including evidence as to the circumstances in which the information contained in the record was written, recorded, stored or reproduced, and draw any reasonable inference from the form or content of the record." Canada Evidence Act, R.S.C. 1985, c. C-5. 8 0 Ewart on Documentary Evidence, 105. 8 1 Ibid., 105-6. 60 has long been accepted as sufficient external evidence of their authenticity. Wigmore explains the grounds for such acceptance in the following way: When in a government office permanent records are kept under the custody of an officer appointed to that duty, there is commonly little danger in inferring that records found there are genuine. It would be difficult as well as criminal to substitute or to insert false records. Moreover, the usual mode of authenticating such documents (as by proving the clerk's or officer's handwriting) would be both highly inconvenient, on account of its repeated necessity, and also often impossible on account of the change of officials as well as the antiquity of many portions of the records. It seems, therefore, never to have been doubted that the existence of an official document in the appropriate official custody is sufficient evidence of its genuineness to go to the j u r y . 8 3 Ancient documents are also presumed to be authentic. 8 4 An ancient document is any written document that is not less than thirty years old. 8 5 Such a document is presumed, under certain conditions, "to have been duly signed, sealed, attested, delivered, or published according to its purport." 8 6 The conditions supporting a presumption of trustworthiness are the long existence of the document, 8 7 together with its being found in a natural or proper place of custody and See Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1978), vol. 7, para. 2158, 2159; Sopinka on Evidence, 941-44; Ewart on Documentary Evidence, 173. 8 3 Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1978), vol. 7, para. 2158. 8 4 Such records are not, however, presumed to be reliable. As Sheppard points out, "leading writers on the law of evidence disagree about whether or not the common law recognized an exception to the hearsay rule for a statement in a document at least 30 years old." See Baker, The Hearsay Rule, (1950), p. 162; McMillan v. Colford (1932), 5 M.P.R. 127 at 133 (N.B.C.A.); Tobias v. Nolan (1985), 71 N.S.R. (2d) 92; affirmed 78 N.S.R. (2d) 271 (CA.) (ancient document is over 20 years old); Apsassin v. Canada (1987), 17 C.P.C. (2d) 187 (Fed. T.D.) (documents over 50 years old admissible; makers deceased and documents almost old enough to be termed historical documents); R. v. Zundel (1987), 56 C.R. (3d) 1; leave to appeal to S.C.C. refused 56 C.R. (3d) xxviii [Ont.]; Delgamuukw v. British Columbia, [1989] 6 W.W.R. 308; see also [1991] 3 W.W.R. 97 at 166 (B.C.S.C.) reversed on other grounds, [1997] 3 S.C.R. 1010. All of the above cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 805, fn. 1. For a detailed examination of the ancient documents rule, see Geoffrey S. Lester, "The Problem of Ancient Documents [Parts I and 2]," The Advocates Quarterly 20:1/2 (Jan. and Mar. 1998): 101-131; 133-175. 8 5 In some jurisdictions, the court or the legislature has reduced the period to twenty years. See Ontario Evidence Act, s. 59 [am. 1993, c. 27, Sched.] (twenty years); Yukon Evidence Act, s. 56; Northwest Territories Evidence Act, s. 55 (twenty years); Tobias v. Nolan (1985), 71 N.S.R. (2d) 92 at 99; affirmed 78 N.S.R. (2d) 271 (CA.) (twenty years at common law); Delgamuukw v. British Columbia, [1989] 6 W.W.R. 308 (B.C.S.C), all the above cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 532, fn. 2. 8 6 Sopinka on Evidence, 955. 8 7 Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1978), vol. 7, para. 2134. Wigmore goes on to point out that, "Whether the mere age is itself an evidential circumstance at all has been judiciously doubted, though it may be argued that men would hardly undertake the risk of forgery for the sole use of posterity, and thus the circumstance of age alone is some evidence; but it has never been suggested to be sufficient of itself." 61 having an unsuspicious appearance. Such conditions suffice, in combination, as evidence that the document was "fairly and honestly obtained and reserved for use, and ...free from suspicion of dishonesty." 8 9 The presumption is not based entirely on considerations of trustworthiness. Necessity is also a factor since, after a long lapse of time, it is difficult, if not impossible, to obtain testimonial evidence from anyone with personal knowledge either of the document's execution or the author's style of handwriting. In interpreting the requirement that the document be found in a proper place of custody, courts have been consistent in asserting that "it is not necessary to show that it has come from the most proper custody; it is sufficient if it come[s] from a place where it might reasonably be expected to be found." 9 0 The question of what constitutes proper custody is therefore left to the determination of the trial court on the circumstances of the particular case. Once the fact of proper custody is established, "there is no need to inquire what happened to the document between the date of execution and the date of production." Sopinka points out, however, that, "in the case of documents of which the custody is imposed by statute on a particular person, the rule must perhaps be more strict, and any unusual custody must be properly accounted for." Authentication by official custody and by age date back to Roman times and are founded upon the principle of circumstantial evidence and, specifically, upon the application of the principle of current possession or existence of a record to prove its past execution. Authentication by official seal or signature also dates back to Roman times. It survives today in the form of a common law rule that the genuineness of documents bearing the official seal or signature of a public official (including a notary) "need not be evidenced otherwise than by the production for inspection of the document bearing them." 9 3 The purporting seal or signature is sufficient proof that the document has been genuinely executed by the purporting official, whose official character is assumed without evidence. 9 4 Finally, authentication is not required if due execution is admitted. 9 5 As Sopinka points out, "if, however, there is any suspicious appearance on the face of the document by erasure, interlineation or otherwise, the court will require proof of it in like manner as that of a document of more recent date." Sopinka on Evidence, 955. 8 9 Ellenborough, L.C.J., in Roey. Rawlings, 7 East 279, 291 (1806), cited in Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1978), vol. 7, para. 2137. Croughton v. Blake, 12 M. & W. 205,208 (1843) Parke, B., cited in Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1978), vol. 7, para. 2139, n. 2. See also cases cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 956, n. 177. 9 1 Sopinka on Evidence, 956. 9 2 Ibid., 956. Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev;, 1978), vol. 7, para. 2161. 9 4 Ibid. At common law, a corporate seal does not carry the same presumption of trustworthiness as an official seal. See ibid., para. 2169. However, Sopinka points out that, "in general, a corporation seal may be proved by anyone familiar with it, without calling a witness who saw it affixed. ...The corporate seal will be presumed to have been affixed by the proper person, although this may be rebutted by the proof of absence of authority." Sopinka on Evidence, 967, 954. 9 5 See Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1978), vol. 7, para. 2132; Sheppard on Evidence, para. 533; Sopinka on Evidence, 949-50. 62 If the purpose of authentication is to establish the identity of the record, the purpose of the best evidence rule is to establish its integrity. This rule, which requires the production of an original record, is "a rule of preference for the inspection of the thing itself, in place of any evidence, either circumstantial or testimonial, about the things." 9 6 As stated by Wigmore, the rule stipulates that, "in proving a writing, production must be made, unless it is not feasible, of the writing itself, whenever the purpose is to establish its terms." 9 7 That purpose is key to the legal understanding of what constitutes an "original." According to Wigmore, the original document whose production is required is: the document whose contents are to be proved in the state of the issues. Whether or not that document was written before or after another, was copied from another, or was itself used to copy from, is immaterial. The question becomes: is this the very document whose contents are desired to be, and in the now state of the issues by the substantive law may be, proved? 9 8 The requirement to produce an original record when it exists is dictated by common sense and long experience which suggest that (1) a copy is always liable to errors; (2) an original may contain subtle details that may be missing from the copy and that may be significant in terms of the record's meaning and; (3) it is very difficult for oral testimony to accurately reproduce the terms of a document. The "best evidence" rule is intended to increase the probability of the record's trustworthiness by decreasing opportunities for deliberate or inadvertent falsification.9 9 The best evidence rule is sometimes referred to as a rule of primariness because its application requires that a distinction be drawn between primary (or best) evidence and secondary evidence. As elucidated by Henry, J., in Gumm v. Cox "evidence that carries on its face no indication that better remains behind is not secondary but p r i m a r y . " 1 0 0 Generally speaking, if a document is executed in duplicate or in counterparts, each duplicate or counterpart is treated as an original because it is created simultaneously with and by the same act of writing as the original. 1 0 1 A machine copy or photocopy of an original document, on the other hand, is secondary evidence because the reproduction follows the creation of the original. 1 0 2 The essential principle of preferred evidence is that it is to be produced if it exists and is available. If it does not exist, or is unavailable, secondary evidence is Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1972), vol. 4, para. 1172, p. 396. 97 Ibid., para. 1178. If a document is being introduced simply to prove its existence, the best evidence rule does not apply. The document must still be authenticated, however. 98 Ibid., para. 1232. 99 Ibid., para. 1179. 1 0 0 (1879), 3 S.C.R. 296, at 304, cited in Sopinka on Evidence, 932. 101 Sopinka on Evidence, 932; Sheppard on Evidence, para. 553; Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1972), vol. 4, para. 1233. 102 Sheppard on Evidence, para. 554. 63 admissible. At common law, secondary evidence is admissible if the original has been lost or destroyed, if production is inconvenient or impossible (e.g., an engraving on a tombstone), if the original is in the possession of another party and the party refuses or neglects to produce it, or if the original is in the possession of a third party and beyond the power of the party seeking to compel production. 1 0 4 Public and official documents may be proven at common law by secondary evidence and without notice to produce the original on the grounds that the removal of such documents would create considerable inconvenience and risk. The secondary evidence may be an exemplification (verified under seal), or examined (verified under oath) or certified c o p i e s . 1 0 5 The Evidence Acts and other statutes also contain provisions "allowing sealed or certified copies to prove the contents of judicial or public books and documents and dispensing with proof of the genuineness of the seal or certification." 1 0 6 Statutory provisions governing the admissibility of specific classes of documents provide exceptions to the best evidence rule by specifically allowing the use of copies that have been authenticated by various means. The business records provision of the Canada Evidence Act, for example, allows a copy of a record to be admitted, if it is not "possible or reasonably practical" to produce the original. Two affidavits must accompany the copy of the record, the first giving reasons why it is not possible or reasonably practicable to produce the record, the second, sworn by the person who made the copy, identifying the source from which the copy was made and attesting to the copy's authenticity.1 A number of courts and legal commentators suggest that, while the best evidence rule continues to be valid in cases "where the terms of a contract, the authenticity of an affidavit or the validity of a will are disputed, or there is an issue whether a document has been altered, the modern common law, statutory provisions, rules of practice and modern technology, have rendered the rule obsolete in most cases and the question is one of weight and not admissibility." 1 0 8 McCormick, on the other hand, cautions against a total disregard for ...all other justifications for the rule. It has long been observed that the opportunity to inspect original writings may be of substantial importance in the detection of fraud. At least a few modern courts and commentators appear to regard the prevention of fraud as an ancillary 1 U J Canadian law does not distinguish among the various kinds of secondary evidence. As Sopinka points out, "so far as admissibility is concerned, there are no degrees of secondary evidence, and oral evidence of the contents of a paper from a person who has read it and a copy of the document are put exactly on the same footing. While more weight may be attached to a copy of a document than oral evidence of it, there is no requirement to account for copies before oral evidence can be adduced." Sopinka on Evidence, 934. 1 0 4 Sheppard on Evidence, para. 564-571; Sopinka on Evidence, 933-36. 1 0 5 Sopinka on Evidence, 937. 1 0 6 Sheppard on Evidence, para. 580. 1 0 7 R.S.C. 1985, c.C-5. 1 0 8 Sopinka on Evidence, 939-40. See also Charles T. McCormick, Kenneth S. Broun, et al, McCormick on Evidence, vol. 2, edited by John William Strong, 4 t h ed. (St. Paul, Minn.: West Publishing, 1992), para. 231; Sheppard on Evidence, para. 541. 64 justification of the rule. Unless this view is accepted, it is difficult to explain the rule's frequent application to copies produced by modern techniques which virtually eliminate the possibility of unintentional mistransmission. Finally one leading U.S. opinion intimates that the rule should be viewed to protect not only against mistaken or fraudulent mistransmissions, but also against intentional or unintentional misleading through introduction of selected portions of a comprehensive set of writings to which the opponent has no access. This seems to engraft upon the best evidence rule an aspect of completeness not hitherto o b s e r v e d . 1 0 9 The leading opinion to which McCormick refers is Toho Bussan Kaisha, Limited v. American President Lines, Limited110 in which photostats of portions of records held in Japan that were prepared for litigation were excluded on the grounds that the duplicates did not constitute a full rendition of the original material.1 Electronic records are a form of documentary evidence and so the traditional rules of evidence have been applied to them, either explicitly or by analogy. Computer records and other data derived from mechanical systems are admissible under the common law exception to the hearsay r u l e 1 1 2 and computer records and output are included within the definition of "record" under the business records provision of the Canada Evidence A c t . 1 1 3 Computer printouts have been admitted under the best evidence rule. As Sheppard observes, "the courts seem ready to admit [a computer printout] as the end product of a reliable system which summarizes and replaces many records and papers." 1 1 4 However, while most electronic records are being admitted in litigation, there remains some confusion on a number of fundamental issues. Observers point out that, "courts have struggled with the traditional rules of evidence, with inconsistent 1 U M McCormick on Evidence, vol. 2, para. 231. 1 1 0 265 F.2d 418, 76 A.LR.2d 1344 (2d Circ.1959). 1 1 1 See also United States v. Alexander, 326 F.2d 736 (4 t h Cir.1964). 1 1 2 R. v. Sunila, (1986), 26 C.C.C. (3d) 331 at 337-39 (N.S.S.C.) (data collected mechanically by radar and computer); Tecoglas Inc. v. Domglas Inc.: Domglas Inc., v. Tecoglas Inc. (1985), 3 C.P.C. (2d) 275 (Ont. H.C.) (computer records admissible). Cases cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 792. 1 1 3 Under s.30(12), "'record' includes the whole or part of any book, document, paper, card, tape or other thing on or in which information is written, recorded, stored or reproduced". The Court in R v. Vanlerberghe stated that, "[section 30] clearly covers mechanical as well as manual book-keeping records and the keeping of records, and the flow-out or printout of that bookkeeping system clearly falls within the meaning of "records" in s. 30 and was therefore admissible." Quoted in Sopinka on Evidence, 214. 1 1 4 R. v. McMullen (1979), 100 D.L.R. (3d) 671 at 674-76 (Ont. C.A.); R. v. Bell (1982), 35 O.R. (2d) 164; affirmed 55 O.R. (2d) 287 (S.C.C); R. v. Hanlon (1985), 69 N.S.R. (2d) 266 (Co. Ct.); R. v. Vanlerberghe (1978), 6 C R . (3d) 222 (B.C.C.A.); R. v. Burns Foods Ltd. (1983), 42 A.R. 70 (Prov. Ct.); R. v. Cordell (1982), 39 A.R. 281 (C.A.); see also Prism Hospital Software Inc., v. Hospital Medical Records Institute, [1991] 2 W.W.R. 157 (B.C.S.C.) (files on floppy disks and tapes being documents stored on magnetic media). Cases cited in Sheppard on Evidence, para. 547. 65 results." 1 1 5 For example, a computer printout has been held to be both primary e v i d e n c e 1 1 6 and secondary evidence.1 Some Courts have allowed "the introduction of computer bank records under s. 29 of the Canada Evidence Act but have required as a condition of admissibility that a foundation be established to demonstrate the reliability generally of the input of entries, storage of information and its retrieval and presentation." 1 1 8 Other courts "have accepted the reliability of computers without v stipulating any preconditions to the admissibility of their printouts under s. 30 of the : A c t . " 1 1 9 The dominant test for the admissibility of computer printouts appears to be the rule enunciated in R. v. McMullen that, "the nature and quality of the evidence put before the Court has to reflect the facts of the complete record-keeping process." The rule does not establish, however, which "facts" and how "complete" the foundation evidence for admissibility ought to b e . 1 2 0 To reduce the uncertainty and create consistency in the application of the rules of evidence governing electronic records, the Uniform Law Conference of Canada (hereafter ULCC) has developed a model statute on electronic evidence that identifies the foundation requirements necessary to provide a probability of trustworthiness analogous to the one found in the traditional paper world. Under the "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act" adopted in 1998, an electronic record is defined as "data that is recorded or stored on any medium in or by a computer system or other similar device, that can be read or perceived by a person or a computer system or other similar device. It includes a display, printout or other output of that data, other than a printout referred to in Sub-section 4(2)."1 2 1 Because "electronic records may be more vulnerable than paper records to undetectable modification, intended or unintended," 1 2 2 the ULCC decided it was necessary to test their trustworthiness at the admissibility stage rather than leaving it until the weight of the records comes to be appraised. It offered four arguments in favor of a specific integrity test for admissibility. First, electronic records may be inherently so untrustworthy that it would be unfair either to apply less stringent rules of 1 1 5 Uniform Law Conference of Canada, "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act Consultation Paper," ([Edmonton, Alta.]: Uniform Law Conference of Canada [March 1997], para. 3, at http://www.law.ualberta.ca/alri/ulc/. 1 1 6 R. v. Vanlerberghe (1978), 6 C.R. (3d) 222 at 224 (B.C.C.A.). 1 1 7 R. v. Burns Foods Ltd. (1983), 42 A.R. 70 at 75 (Prov. Ct.). 1 1 8 Sopinka on Evidence, 214, alluding to the Court's decision in R. v. McMullen. 1 1 9 Sopinka on Evidence, 214, alluding to the Court's decision in R. v. Vanlerberghe. 1 2 0 Ken Chasse, "Appendix J: Computer-Produced Records in Court Proceedings," in Proceedings of the Seventy-Sixth Annual Meeting [of the] Uniform Law Conference of Canada. [Edmonton, Alta.: University of Alberta. Faculty of Law, 1995], 15, at http://www.law.ualberta.ca/alri/ulc/. 1 2 1 Uniform Law Conference of Canada, "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act [and Comments]," ([Edmonton, Alta.]: Uniform Law Conference of Canada [September 1998], s.1(b) "electronic record". In the model statute, "data" is defined as "representations, in any form, of information or concepts" s.1(a) "data". According to the drafters of the statute, the definition of data "ensures that the Act applies to any form of information in an electronic record, whether figures, facts, or ideas." Ibid., "Section 1: Comment," act and comments at http://www.law.ualberta.ca/alri/ulc/. The printouts excluded from the definition will be discussed below in the context of revisions to the best evidence rule. Uniform Law Conference of Canada, "Consultation Paper," para. 1. 66 http://www.law.ualberta.ca/alri/ulc/ http://www.law.ualberta.ca/alri/ulc/ http://www.law.ualberta.ca/alri/ulc/ admissibility to electronic records than those applied to paper-based records or to eliminate altogether any rules regarding record integrity at the admissibility stage. Secondly, information relevant to determining the trustworthiness of an electronic record is within the knowledge of the proponent of evidence; therefore, it is not unduly difficult to support its admission. Thirdly, if the proponent is not required to adduce foundation evidence to support the admission of an electronic record, the opponent will be forced to call its own witnesses to challenge the record's trustworthiness. Under these circumstances it will be difficult for the opponent to mount a successful challenge given that the best and, likely, only witness would be an employee of the proponent and, if such a witness is called, the opponent will not be able to cross-examine him or her. A fairer test of the record's integrity can be made, therefore, if the proponent is required to give foundation evidence at the admissibility stage. Finally, the requirement to adduce foundation evidence is bound to encourage responsible recordkeeping since anyone who wishes to introduce electronic records will have to withstand cross- examination on the records' trustworthiness.1 2 3 Section 2(1) of the Act states that the act "does not modify any common law or statutory rule relating to the admissibility of records, except the rules relating to authentication and best evidence." The common law and statutory business records exceptions to the hearsay rule are, therefore, unaffected by the Act. The ULCC maintains that the existing law "does not require separate proof of the truth of a record's contents. The making and use of the record in the course of business provides sufficient guarantee of the truth of the record's contents to support a d m i s s i o n . " 1 2 4 In other words, the reliability of a record's contents is determined in relation to the business context in which the record was created, rather than in relation to the technological context of its creation and can be adequately demonstrated under existing law. The ULCC also takes the position that the existing procedures for authenticating records work equally well for paper or electronic records. Accordingly, the Uniform Act simply confirms the common law rule by asserting that, "the person 1 2 3 Ibid., para. 31-34. The position taken by the Law Conference of Canada is the opposite of the one taken by the drafters of the 1995 Australian Uniform Evidence Act. Under s. 146(3) of the Uniform Evidence Act, electronic records are admissible without foundation evidence. The Australian Law Reform Commission noted: "It is true that errors, accidental and deliberate, occur and can occur at every stage of the process of record keeping by computers. The fact is, however, that they are the exception rather than the rule, they tend to occur at the stage when the information is fed into the system, and there are techniques available which can be, and are, employed at each stage of the record keeping process to eliminate error ...To require extensive proof, on each occasion, of the reliability of the computer records is to place a costly burden on the party seeking to tender the evidence, to give the opposing party a substantial tactical weapon and to add to the work of the courts. In many cases there will be no bona fide issue as to the accuracy of the records. It is more efficient to leave the party against whom the evidence is led to raise any queries and make any challenges it may have." Quoted in Stephen Odgers, Uniform Evidence Law (Sydney, Australia: The Federation Press, 1995), para. 146.3. The Australian law thus places the tactical burden on the opponent of evidence to disprove the trustworthiness of electronic records, rather than on the proponent of the evidence to prove trustworthiness as is done in the Uniform Law Conference statute. 2 4 "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act Consultation Paper," para. 54. 67 seeking to introduce an electronic record has the burden of proving its authenticity by evidence capable of supporting a finding that the electronic record is what the person claims it to b e . " 1 2 5 As with paper records, the evidence may given orally or by affidavit and may be challenged by the opponent of the evidence. From the ULCC's perspective, the justification for a special rule for electronic records is the need to expose their special vulnerability to undetectable change. For that reason, the Uniform Electronic Evidence Act focuses on means of establishing the integrity of an electronic record. In a traditional paper recordkeeping environment, the integrity of a record is addressed under the best evidence rule. The application of that rule requires that the proponent of evidence produce, whenever possible, the original document since alterations are more likely to be detected on the original. The application of the rule in an electronic environment has proven difficult as court decisions have shown and attempts to designate a computer printout as an original or as a duplicate are considered artificial. Therefore, rather than search for what might constitute an "original" document in an electronic record- keeping environment, the ULCC has chosen to direct its attention to the principle underlying the best evidence rule: The "function" of the best evidence rule is to ensure the reliability, that is to say the integrity of the record to be produced in evidence. It is presumably easier to tell that an original paper record has been altered than to determine any alteration by viewing a copy. In the electronic world, there may or may not be an original paper version of the electronic record. Therefore, the search for integrity of an electronic record has to proceed in another way. As Ken Chasse said 'the law should move from 'original' to 'system', that is, from dependence upon proof of the integrity of the original business document to a dependence on proof of the integrity of the record-keeping system.' ... Stated another way, the integrity of the record-keeping system is the key to proving the integrity of the record, including any manifestation of the record created, maintained, displayed, reproduced or printed out by a computer s y s t e m . 1 2 6 1 ^ "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act and Comments," s. 3. 1 2 6 "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act Consultation Paper," para. 24-26. As the framers of the Act point out, this position is consistent with the Quebec Civil Code, articles 2837-2839, and with recent amendments to the New Brunswick Evidence Act on Electronically Stored Documents, S.N.B. 1996 c. 52. In both cases, the integrity of the records must be demonstrated as a condition of being admitted and this is achieved by requiring evidence of the reliability of the computer system that produced it. See "Consultation Paper," para. 27. For a brief discussion of the Quebec articles see also Kathleen Delaney-Beausoleil, "La valeur de preuve des documents d'archives: aspects theoriques," in Les valeurs archivistiques: throne et pratique. Actes du colloque organise conjointement par la Division des archives et les Programmes d'archivistique de I'Universite Laval, 11 novembre 1993 (Quebec: Universite Laval, 1994), 33-34. 68 Accordingly, in the Uniform Electronic Evidence Act, record integrity is replaced by system integrity. 1 2 7 The shift away from the record itself to the record-keeping system that produced it is reflected in Section 4(1), which stipulates that, "where the best evidence rule is applicable in respect of an electronic record, it is satisfied on proof of the integrity of the electronic records system in or by which the data was recorded or s t o r e d . " 1 2 8 This stipulation does not apply to a record that is produced using a computer but that "lives its life" on paper, for example, a letter generated using word-processing software which is then printed. In such cases, the ULCC argues, the reliability of the computer system is not at issue and the paper printout is considered the original. Therefore, Section 4 contains a proviso (Subsection 2) that, "[a]n electronic record in the form of a print-out that has been manifestly or consistently acted on, relied upon, or used as the record of the information recorded or stored on the printout, is the record for the purposes of the best evidence r u l e . " 1 2 9 In the Uniform Act, an electronic records system "includes the computer system or other similar device by or in which data is recorded or stored, and any procedures related to the recording and storage of electronic r e c o r d s . " 1 3 0 Such procedures include "physical and electronic access controls, security features, verification rules, and retention or destruction schedules", which may or may not be embedded in the computer system itself. 1 3 1 Under Section 5, the integrity of the electronic records system is presumed (a) by evidence that supports a finding that at all material times the computer system or other similar device was operating properly or, if it was not, the fact of its not operating properly did not affect the integrity of the electronic record, and there are no other reasonable grounds to doubt the integrity of the electronic records s y s t e m 1 3 2 The section thus creates a presumption of integrity of the system based on evidence that includes the computer system that produced the record and the record-keeping ™ According to the drafters of the Act, "the Act does not say expressly that the proponent of an electronic record does not have to produce an original, but the displacement of the usual best evidence rule will have that effect. ...Even if there is an original of an electronic record, as in the case of an electronic image of a paper document, the Act does not require the production of the paper. Nor does it require that the original have been destroyed before the electronic image becomes admissible. The Act sets up a rule for admitting electronic records. Records retention policies, for paper or electronic records, are beyond its scope and should not be determined by the law of evidence in any event. Someone who destroys paper originals in the ordinary course of business, ideally in accordance with a rational schedule, should not be prejudiced in using reliable electronic versions of those records." "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act and Comments," s. 4(1). mlbid. 1 2 9 "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act and Comments," s. 4(2). 130 Ibid., s1 (c) "electronic records system". 1 3 1 The drafters of the Act point out that, "an electronic record is not part of the system that produced it. Section 4 provides that the integrity of a record can be proved by proving the integrity of the system that produced it. If the system included the record itself, section 4 would not work." "Electronic Evidence Act and Comments," s. 1(c). 1 3 2 / D / d . , s . 5(a). 69 system in which it operated. Both are required to demonstrate integrity. 1 3 3 The test of integrity is a fairly simple one. According to the drafters of the Act, the decision to adopt a simple test at the admissibility stage was based on the fact that the integrity of most electronic records is not disputed. The intention of the Act is to point out the basic criteria on which the integrity of a record may be judged, not to render the process more difficult or to provide grounds for frivolous and expensive attacks on otherwise acceptable r e c o r d s . 1 3 4 Section 5 also creates a presumption of integrity for business records of an adverse party (Subsection (b)) and of a non-party (Subsection (c)). In ail these circumstances, evidence of the integrity of the electronic records system "may be established by an affidavit given to the best of the deponent's knowledge or belief," 1 3 5 and the parties to the proceedings have the right to cross-examine the deponent on the affidavit. 1 3 6 The drafters considered but, ultimately, declined to endorse any particular industry standard as a minimum standard for electronic record trustworthiness. The Canadian Information and Image Management Society had requested that the Uniform Electronic Evidence Act provide legislative support for the National Standard on Microfilm and Electronic Images as Documentary Evidence by providing that records created and maintained in compliance with the National Standard would be admissible and presumed reliable. Moreover, a 1994 consultation paper prepared for the ULCC by Ken Chasse had recommended that an integrity test listing the factors to be considered in determining the admissibility and weight of electronic records be adapted from the National S t a n d a r d . 1 3 7 In the end, however, the drafters of the Act decided against creating a statutory presumption of reliability based on the standard on the grounds that it constituted too high a standard for admissibility 1 3 8 and might encourage a tendency to not properly scrutinize the records further as to weight. Although the Uniform Electronic Evidence Act does not make compliance with recognized standards obligatory to the admission of electronic records, it does make compliance with them a relevant consideration. The Act states that: ™ The drafters of the Act point out that This does not mean that a simple computer record needs the support of a sophisticated record-keeping system in order to be admissible. A small business, for example, may have a computer with off-the-shelf software and no 'records management manual'. The record-keeping system is implied in the operation of the computer. It should be recognized, however, that the integrity of records in such a system may be exposed to more successful attack in court." "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act and Comments," s. 5(a). 134 Ibid. 1 3 5 "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act and Comments," s. 7. 1 3 6 "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act and Comments," s. 8. 1 3 7 Chasse's list includes the following factors: (1) sources of data and information; (2) contemporaneous recording: (3) routine business data and information; (4) data entry; (5) business reliance; (6) software reliability; and (7) security. See Chasse, "Appendix J," 20. 1 3 8 For example, the framers of the Act point out, the New Brunswick Evidence Act on Electronically Stored Documents aims at a standard below that of the National Standard but acceptable to the New Brunswick legislature. 1 3 9 "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act Consultation Paper," para. 68-72. 70 for the purpose of determining under any rule of law whether an electronic record is admissible, evidence may be presented [in any legal proceeding] in respect of any standard, procedure, usage or practice on how electronic records are to be recorded or stored, having regard to the type of business or endeavour that used, recorded or stored the electronic record and the nature and purpose of the electronic r e c o r d . 1 4 0 Businesses still need to establish the integrity of their records, based largely on the reliability of their systems in maintaining the records. Moreover once an electronic record is admitted the opponent can challenge it on a number of grounds, including its lack of integrity. The rule thus provides an incentive to businesses to adopt standards (both external and internal) in order to facilitate the admissibility of electronic records and to strengthen their weight once they have been admitted into evidence. Record creators are faced with the responsibility to design systems that will provide a rebuttable presumption of integrity. The reluctance of the ULCC to impose precise and detailed standards for electronic records at the admissibility stage is consistent with the spirit of the Anglo- American legal system. In his comparison of evidence and fact-finding precision in the common law (which adopts an adversarial approach to fact-finding) and the civil law (which adopts an inquisitorial approach), Damaska observes that common law adjudicators "are traditionally strongly attached to individualized justice and strive to arrive at the just result in the light of concrete circumstances of the c a s e . " 1 4 1 Precedents, rather than detailed and precise rules, constitute the decisional standard in the common law system, resulting in a greater degree of uncertainty and fluidity in that s t a n d a r d . 1 4 2 Formal standards and precise rules are, on the other hand, a characteristic feature of the continental system of civil law. In a civil law context, "decisionmakers are relatively more concerned about uniformity and predictability: they are much more ready than the common law adjudicator to neglect the details of the case in order to organize the world of fluid social reality into a "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act and Comments," s. 6. 1 4 1 DamaSka, "Presentation of Evidence," 1103-1104. 1 4 2 In areas where rights and obligations are at stake, such as the law of contracts and the law of wills, and where the stability of the written word is considered critical to their enforcement, more precise standards are imposed by the common law. But even in these areas, commentators suggest, the common law should move towards greater flexibility. Ethan Katsh, for example, suggests that the digital world is transforming the nature of contracts. He argues that the traditional model of paper contracts, with its emphasis on formalism, stability, and clarity, will inevitably give way to to a relational model of contracts, that emphasizes fluidity and flexibility; instead of binding parties to an act, the relational model binds parties to a process. See M. Ethan Katsh, "Contracts: Relationships in Cyberspace," in Law in a Digital World (New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 114-132. In the area of wills, John Langbein notes that "what is peculiar to the law of wills is not the prominence of the formalities [e.g., the requirements of writing, witnesses, and signatures] but the judicial insistence that any defect in complying with them automatically and inevitably voids the will." He maintains that the rigid formalism of the Wills Act should be replaced by a substantial compliance doctrine which looks at the question of intent and whether formal defects are actually harmful to the statutory purpose of the Wills Act. See Langbein, John H. "Substantial Compliance with the Wills Act." Harvard Law Review 88 (January 1975): 489-531. 71 s y s t e m . " 1 4 3 Precise rules contained in authoritative texts constitute the decisional standard, resulting in a greater degree of certainty and stability. The different decisional standards adopted by the two legal systems, the one adversarial, the other, inquisitorial, underline the fact that the nature and value of record trustworthiness are context-dependent and will be interpreted in different ways depending on the perspective and values of the framework in which it is being a s s e s s e d . 1 4 4 The minimal standard of record trustworthiness at the admissibility stage also reflects an assumption that any weaknesses and deficiencies in the records that may have been overlooked at that stage will be exposed upon cross-examination. In this respect, the uniform law reflects the common law's faith in the adversarial process in general and cross-examination in particular as the most effective means of establishing the trustworthiness of records. In an adversarial process, the facts of the case are provided to the fact finder in the form of two alternating one-sided accounts. According to Dale Nance, "a principal justification for the adversary process is that the self-interest of the parties will bring about a thorough investigation and vigorous clash of evidence from which the relatively detached trier of fact will best be able to discern the truth." 1 4 5 There are, however, a number of epistemological frailties endemic in the practice of allowing two adversaries to control the development of evidence at trial. Damaska identifies three of the most salient pitfalls: [First,] it may be in the narrow interest of only one party, or in the common interest of both, that some items of information which the witness possesses do not reach the adjudicator - even though their relevancy in the quest for truth is beyond dispute .... [Secondly,] because "the witness is limited to answering relatively narrow and precise questions, much information may effectively be kept away from the decisionmaker ...Accordingly, the factual basis for the decision may be incomplete .... [Thirdly,] the cross-examination technique, ...with its challenge to the credibility of witnesses, is a two-edged sword ...Even with the best of intentions on the cross-examiner's part, reliable testimony may easily be made to look debatable, and clear information may become obfuscated. 1 4 6 Given the technological complexity of electronic records, the opportunities for inadvertent or deliberate misrepresentation, incomplete presentation, obfuscation and confusion during direct- and cross-examination are rife. 1 4 3 Damaska, "Presentation of Evidence," 1104. 1 4 4 For the differences between the two systems generally, see John Henry Merryman, The Civil Law Tradition: An Introduction to the Legal Systems of Western Europe and Latin America, 2 n d ed. (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1985). Dale A. Nance, "The Best Evidence Principle." Iowa Law Review 73 (January 1988): 235. 1 4 6 Damaska, "Presentation of Evidence," 1093-1094. The epistemological frailties of the civil law's "inquisitorial" approach to fact-finding are discussed at 1091-1092. 72 In order to counteract some of the weaknesses of the adversarial process, Nance urges the courts to renew the common law's original commitment to a best evidence principle. The argument for the continuing validity of a best evidence principle draws on its eighteenth century roots as a unifying principle of the Anglo- American law of evidence. It was asserted by Lord Gilbert, in the first treatise on evidence at common law, in the following terms, "The first ...and most signal rule, in relation to evidence, is this; that a man must have the utmost evidence the nature of the fact is capable of."1 4 7 In its original terms, the best evidence represented an epistemic ideal, embodying the obligation of the litigating parties to present the logically most probative evidence. By the end of the nineteenth century, the overarching principle of the law of evidence had shrunk to the original document rule context. Responsibility for diminishing its status is usually attributed to Thayer and Wigmore, both of whom argue that the adversarial process guarantees the production of the best evidence through the motivated self-interest of the litigating parties. However, Nance points out, such argument is based on a number of faulty assumptions: first, it assumes that "strategically best" evidence (meaning "evidence which is strategically optimal from the point of view of the litigant unswervingly committed to victory at trial") will always coincide with "epistemically best" (meaning "the set of information, reasonably available to the litigant, that a rational trier of fact, expert or nonexpert, would find most helpful in the resolution of the factual issue"),1 4 8 when this clearly will not always be the case. Secondly, it assumes that, even if one party presents "epistemically inferior" evidence, the opponent will be sufficiently motivated to present the better evidence, an assumption that ignores the fact that opponents will not always have access to the better evidence; that they may be prevented, by legal or tactical obstacles, from presenting the evidence; and that they may be insufficiently diligent in obtaining the better evidence, or insufficiently effective in presenting i t . 1 4 9 Given the weaknesses and biases of the parties, Nance believes that judges ought to take a more active role in protecting the jury from them by placing reasonable limits on the range of choices given to litigants in proving a proposition, and by encouraging parties to produce more reliable evidence. Nance argues that, in performing this role, judges should intercede "only when there is a strong likelihood that the litigant has attempted to press a tactical advantage unreasonably inimical to the presentation of the epistemically best evidence, or that the litigant has unreasonably evaluated an otherwise legitimate consideration, as when the litigant's cost evaluation is palpably improper."1 5 0 Nance's equation of "best evidence" with "epistemically best evidence" complements the connection McCormick draws between "best evidence" and "completeness of evidence" in his argument for the continuing relevance of the rule 1 4 / Gilbert (see chap. 1, n. 102), 3. 1 4 8 Nance, "Best Evidence," 240. 149 Ibid., 265. 150 Ibid., 244. 73 pertaining to documentary originals. Taken together, their comments imply that, in -relation to documentary evidence, the epistemically best evidence is, among other things, that which is most complete. The dimension of completeness is particularly pertinent to electronic records since the structural, contextual, and discursive components of an electronic record may exist in separate parts of a database. For example, in an electronic mail message, the addresses of the sender and the ;. recipients are maintained separately from the content of the message. The adherence to a best evidence principle, then, would manifest itself in an obligation of the parties to produce the most complete electronic record, i.e., the record containing all the relevant structural, contextual, and discursive elements present in the original. The foundation evidence that supports a presumption of integrity should be capable of demonstrating, not only the reliability of the input and verification procedures, but, also, the completeness of the procedures for reproducing, not only the content of the record, but its original structure and any original annotations, to the extent that these are relevant to an understanding of the record's content (or "terms"). Of course, this implies that courts will have to come to terms with the question of what constitutes a complete record and be capable of assessing the significance of missing elements. Although the criteria for assessing the trustworthiness of records as legal evidence have changed over time, reliability continues to be associated with the observer/recorder's proximity to the event being recorded and to the closeness in time between observation and recording. In statutory law, the requirement that the observer and recorder be the same person has been relaxed, however, and the fact that both observer and recorder were acting under a business duty is sufficient evidence of a record's reliability to admit it. The observational principles on which the exception was originally based have not been abandoned. It is simply that the authority of bureaucratic controls, which constitute a somewhat different kind of observation, is now emphasized over the authority of personal observation. A similar shift in focus is apparent in the adaptations to the best evidence rule that have been proposed by the ULCC. There, the emphasis on the authority of the original record has been replaced by an emphasis on the authority of the system in which records are generated and maintained. The integrity of the electronic records system is ensured by verification controls and security procedures, which, like bureaucratic controls, constitute a kind of surveillance over both the system and the individuals using it. The significance of observation, whether personal or bureaucratic, is also a prominent feature of historical methods for assessing the trustworthiness of records as historical evidence. Those methods will be examined in the next chapter. 74 Chapter 3 Modern Historical Methods for Assessing Record Trustworthiness The techniques of modern historical criticism, like modern rules of legal evidence, reflect a substantial degree of continuity with those established at the end of the nineteenth century. However, like the legal rules, historical method has been refined, extended, and qualified in response to changes in recordkeeping practices and in the perception of the historian's role. In the nineteenth century, scientific historians like Ranke believed that the critical examination of documents would reveal the past "as it actually happened." Twentieth century historians are more constrained in the claims they make concerning the historian's capacity to know the past based on the evidence that has survived into the present. In An Introduction to the Study of History, Langlois and Seignobos used metaphors drawn from natural science to describe the historian's methods of revealing the past. In The Historian's Craft, Marc Bloch invokes metaphors drawn from police work and jurisprudence to describe those methods. James Wilkinson detects in Bloch's metaphors, and his work in general, "a note of caution that is absent from the counsels of Langlois and Seignobos," and a greater awareness "that historians deal with human fallibility. ...[Bloch's] approach to evidence is cautious not simply because of the possibility of fraud but also because no single source can yield the whole truth." 1 Although modernist history no longer aspires to any single or fixed truth about the past, it has not abandoned the belief in the capacity of historical criticism to reveal what Gertrude Himmelfarb calls "partial, contingent, incremental truths." 2 For that reason, historical method continues to place "a premium on archival research and primary sources, the authenticity of documents and reliability of witnesses, [and] the need to obtain substantiating and countervailing evidence." 3 This chapter will examine the characteristic features of modernist historical method, the limits of that method, and the challenge posed by the increasing use of new information technologies in the creation and maintenance of records. David Hackett Fischer maintains that, within the historical discipline, "specific canons of historical proof are neither widely observed nor generally agreed upon. There is no historiographical Wigmore, Stephen, or Thayer and no body of precedents which is recognized as a reliable guide." 4 Nevertheless, there are certain generally accepted procedural checks and controls that guide historians' assessment of the trustworthiness of their sources and that constitute the core of 1James Wilkinson, "A Choice of Fictions: Historians, Memory, and Evidence." PMLA 111 (Jan. 1996): 84. Gertrude Himmelfarb, "Postmodernist History," in On Looking into the Abyss: Untimely Thoughts on Culture and Society (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1994), 136. 3 Ibid., 133. 4 David Hackett Fischer, Historians' Fallacies: Toward a Logic of Historical Thought (New York: Harper & Row, 1970), 62. 75 modern manuals of historical methodology.5 These are, for the most part, the same checks and controls that were codified at the end of the nineteenth century. The distinction between primary and secondary sources and between the trustworthiness of a record as a record (i.e., its authenticity) and its trustworthiness as a statement (i.e., its reliability or credibility),6 are still considered valid, as are the analytic techniques of external and internal criticism.7 Moreover, as Geoffrey Elton makes clear, in their search for answers to questions about the past, historians continue to operate within a framework of probabilities rather than certainties: History ...aims at explanations which approximate to an unverifiable truth and are themselves subject to the continuous change which is the one indisputable fact about history. Historical explanations themselves form part of the history told. The standards of acceptable proof in history thus are standards of acceptable probability controlled by expert knowledge of the evidence, and the historical account is in itself the nearest thing to a proof that the historian can obtain or proffer. He convinces insofar as he persuades others capable of judging that he has worked honestly and that the story he tells makes sense in light of the sources available illumined by a cautious understanding of people and their probabilities.8 Although the range of sources available to historians is considerably wider than it was in previous centuries, modern historical method still expresses a preference for primary sources, i.e., records created closest in time to the event they purport to record. According to Fischer, "the best relevant evidence, all things being equal, is evidence which is most nearly immediate to the event itself. The very best 5The following manuals of methodology were consulted: Jacques Barzun and Henry F. Graff, The Modern Researcher, 5 t h ed. (New York: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1992); Louis Gottschalk, "The Historian and the Historical Document," in The Use of Personal Documents in History, Anthropology, and Sociology, prepared for the Committee on Appraisal of Research, ed. Louis Gottschalk, Clyde Kluckhohn, et al (New York: Social Science Research Council, [1945]), 3-78; G.J. Renier, History: Its Purpose and Method. (New York: Harper & Row, 1950); Robert Jones Shafer, ed. A Guide to Historical Method. 3 r d ed. (Belmont, Calif.: Wadsworth Publishing Co., 1980). 6 The association of authenticity with the trustworthiness of the record as a record (rather than as a statement of facts) is found in all the manuals of historical methodology with one exception. In The Modern Researcher, Barzun and Graff reverse the definitions of authenticity and reliability in a footnote which attempts to distinguish between authenticity and genuineness: "the two adjectives may seem synonymous but they are not: that is genuine which is not forged and that is authentic which truthfully reports on its ostensible subject. Thus an art critic might write an account of an exhibition he had never visited; his manuscript would be genuine but not authentic. Conversely, an authentic report of an event by X might be copied by a forger and passed off as the original. It would then be authentic but not genuine." Barzun and Graff, Modern Researcher, 99. Such definition is clearly incorrect and should simply be dismissed. 7 In Barzun and Graff, however, the terms are not used. The elements of external and internal criticism are discussed at various points throughout the first part of their manual, which deals with the principles and methods of research. They are discussed with specific reference to documentary evidence under the rubric of 'types of evidence." 8 G.R. Elton, "Two Kinds of History," in Which Road to the Past? (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1983), 101. 76 evidence, of course, is the event itself, and then the authentic remains of the event, and then direct observations, etc. W e shall call this the rule of immediacy."9 Primary sources are often characterized as "unintentional" or "unpremeditated" evidence. As Barzun and Graff explain in relation to historical evidence: Intentional pieces of written evidence are such things as affidavits, court testimony, secret or published memoirs. The author of any of these meant to record a sequence of events for future perusal. He presumably had an interest in furthering his view of the facts. But a receipt for the sale of a slave, jotted down in the second century on a bit of papyrus, is no premeditated piece of historical writing. Its sole intended use was commercial, and it is only as "unconscious evidence" that it becomes part of an historical narrative. The laws of states, ordinances of cities, charters of corporations, and the like are similarly unpremeditated e v i d e n c e — a s are the account books of a modern corporation or of a Florentine banker of the fifteenth c e n t u r y . 1 0 Barzun and Graffs comments underline the fact that in history, as in law, records created in the ordinary course of business are considered to possess a circumstantial probability of trustworthiness. The preference accorded to such records is, of course, a qualified one. As Marc Bloch explains, "It is not that this sort of document is any less subject to errors or falsehoods than the others. ...neither all ambassadorial accounts nor all business letters tell the truth. But this kind of distortion, if it exists, at least, has not been especially designed to deceive posterity."1 1 Bloch's comments underline the fact that, although administrative records are frequently characterized as "unintentional" or "unpremeditated," the real distinction is between different kinds of intentionality. Michael Stanford, for example, categorizes administrative records as "communicative evidence," i.e., "evidence [which] reveals the intention to communicate." Within the category of communicative evidence, he follows Bloch's distinction between evidence which was intended for the eyes of contemporaries only and that which was intended for posterity. 1 2 A more contemporary manual of historical methodology qualifies the preference even further: with the widespread consciousness of history ...there has been a general tendency to inject purposeful 'historicity' into apparently unpremeditated documents...business documents, such as reports to stockholders, contain interpretations of purpose and behavior that amount to propaganda. In other words, we have become so 9 Fischer, Historians' Fallacies, 62. 1 0 Barzun and Graff, Modern Researcher, 155. 1 1 Marc Bloch, The Historian's Craft (New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1963), 62. 1 2 Michael Stanford, A Companion to the Study of History (Oxford, U.K.: Basil Blackwell, 1994), 160- 61. 77 accustomed to the idea of 'the record' that we are continually tempted to tamper with i t . 1 3 The qualified presumption of the inherent trustworthiness of bureaucratic records provides the framework within which more detailed assessments of the authenticity and reliability of records are conducted. Establishing a record's authenticity continues to fall within the purview of external criticism, the purpose of which has always been to verify or establish the authorship of a record, its place and date of origin, and its status as an original or c o p y . 1 4 The place and date of the record's origin is considered significant because it "can show whether the asserted or implied date of composition can be correct ...[and] whether the indicated author can indeed have been involved." 1 5 Depending on the record under consideration, the authorship and date may be verified or established by one or more of the following means: content analysis (to detect possible anachronisms and inconsistencies in the text as well as to identify clues as to the record's origins), comparison of originals and copies, comparison with other contemporary documents, and tests of the record's physical properties. 1 6 In tracing the record's origins, external criticism also takes into account the history of the record's transmission and custody over t i m e . 1 7 Although the analytical techniques of external criticism are considered fundamental procedures, their application to records generated by twentieth century bureaucracies occupies very little space in modern manuals of historical methodology. Many historians view external criticism as a necessary task but one whose relevance for modern and contemporary records is limited. Leon Goldstein, for example, suggests that, "it is clear enough, that for periods prior to the emergence of modern conditions of publishing, these analytical techniques of external criticism may be very important, indeed indispensable to the practice of history, though for more recent periods they have, as Mandelbaum puts it, become 'superfluous in the majority of cases.'" 1 8 Whereas the purpose of external criticism is to verify or establish the place and date of origin of a record and its authorship, the purpose of internal criticism is to Barzun and Graff, Modem Researcher, 155-56. 1 4 The discussion of external criticism is found in Shafer, Guide, 127-47; in Gottschalk, "Use of Personal Documents," 28-34, in Renier, History, 108-110; and in Bloch, Historian's Craft, 90-110. 1 5 Shafer, Guide, 130. External criticism also deals with garbled documents, partial texts, plagiarism, ghostwriters, and interpolations. 6 External criticism also includes the application of all the ancillary disciplines of history, e.g., paleography, numismatics, chronology, sigillography, and, of course, diplomatics. However, since their application is traditionally confined to ancient and medieval documents, they will not be discussed here. The application of diplomatics to modern and contemporary records will be the subject of the next chapter. 1 7 Stanford, Companion to Study of History, 154-55. 1 8 Leon J. Goldstein, "Historical Realism and Skepticism," in Historical Knowing (Austin and London: University of Texas Press, 1976), 43. 78 establish the credibility of statements made in the record. 1 9 In an essay entitled "The Historian and the Historical Document," Louis Gottschalk points out that to say a statement is credible does not mean that the statement reflects what actually happened, "but that it is as close to [reflecting] what actually happened as we can learn from a critical examination of the best available sources. The historian thus establishes credibility or verisimilitude (in this special sense of conformity with a critical examination of the sources) rather than truth."20 To assess the credibility of the statements made in the record, the historian assesses the credibility of its author, both as an observer and as a reporter. As Shafer observes, "much of historical research is concerned with determination of the accuracy and value of observations of details made by witnesses of events ....The ability of the witness to observe thus becomes a matter of prime importance." 2 1 The author's credibility as a witness is initially assessed in relation to his or her proximity in time and space to the objects or events on which he or she is reporting, his or her familiarity with or understanding of those objects or events and so on. The witness's credibility as a reporter is assessed in relation to the lapse of time between observation and reporting. According to Gottschalk, "because reliability is, in general, inversely proportional to the time-lapse between event and recollection, the closer a document is to the event it narrates the better it is likely to be for historical purposes." 2 2 The historian is also expected to take into account the author's frame of mind and intent in composing the record. In assessing the author's frame of mind, the historian attempts to identify possible biases (both personal and cultural), or other legal, social, or cultural constraints that may affect his or her ability to accurately report. 2 3 In assessing the author's intent, the historian looks at the purpose for which the record was created and its intended audience to determine the likelihood of distortion, editing, or falsification in reporting the events. Finally, the historian attempts to find corrobation (or refutation) of the statements made in the record by comparing them with independent sources. In contemporary manuals of historical methodology, it is not only the author's frame of mind that is considered in assessing the credibility of the record as a statement. The mind of the historian is also a factor since the many sources of both deliberate and inadvertent error that affect authors, e.g., ignorance, bias, inadequate or selective perception, cultural difference, self-delusion, will, inevitably, affect the historian's perspective on the evidence. As Shafer points out, "the historian must Internal Criticism is discussed in Renier, History, 162-65; in Gottschalk, "Use of Personal Documents," 35-47; and in Shafer, Guide, 149-70. Shafer and Gottschalk discuss the topic in very similar terms and in similar depth. The difference is mainly in the way the two authors identify categories. For the most part, the discussion of internal criticism follows Shafer's categories. 2 0 Gottschalk, "Use of Personal Documents," 35. 2 1 Shafer, Guide, 153. 2 2 Ibid., 16 2 3 Most of the reasons cited in modern manuals that support an assumption of bias and, conversely, those supporting an assumption of neutrality, are analogous and, in many cases, identical, to those identified by Langlois and Seignobos in the nineteenth century, and by Baudouin in the sixteenth century. The awareness of cultural bias however, is a twentieth century development. 79 remember that he is looking at the evidence through the prism of his own culture and t i m e . " 2 4 Jacques Le Goff underlines this point when he asserts (echoing Croce) that All history is contemporary insofar as the past is grasped in the present, and thus responds to the latter's interests. This is not only inevitable but legitimate. Since history is lived time (duree), the past is both past and present. It is the historian's task to make an "objective" study of the past in its double form. To be sure, since he is himself implicated within history, he cannot attain a true "objectivity," but no other history is possible. The historian will make further progress in understanding history by putting himself in question in the course of his analysis, just as a scientific observer takes into account the modifications he may make in the object he is observing. 2 5 Historians cannot, of course, transcend the perspective of their own time, but they can at least be aware of the fact that they inevitably bring a set of assumptions about the world in their assessment of the evidence and, to the extent possible, expose those assumptions in their account. 2 6 Many of the conditions identified in manuals of historical methodology as either inhibiting or promoting credible statements are analogous to legal rules of evidence governing testimonial assertions. In fact, the "three steps of historical testimony," identified by Gottschalk, i.e., "observation, recollection, and recording" 2 7 are practically identical to the elements of testimonial assertion identified by Wigmore in Rules of Evidence at Common Law. An account of events that serves the interests of the reporter (i.e., self-serving evidence) is considered inherently unreliable. On the other hand, an account that is detrimental to the interests of the reporter (i.e., statements against self-interest) or an account created under circumstances in which there is a strong motive for accuracy and little or no motive for distortion or falsification (i.e., statements made under a business duty), are considered inherently more reliable. Finally, a statement corroborated by one or Shafer, Guide, 155. 25 Le Goff, History and Memory (see chap. 1, n. 55), 130. See also Charles A. Beard, "Written History as an Act of Faith," in The Philosophy of History in Our Time, ed. Hans Meyerhoff (New York: Doubleday, 1959), 150-151; Carl Becker, "What are Historical Facts?" in Detachment and the Writing of History: Essays and Letters of Carl Becker, ed. Phil L. Snyder (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 1958), 56-59; Collingwood, Idea of History, (see chap. 1, n. 73), 248. For the main points of similarity and difference between historians' concern with the possibility of objectivity or detachment in the writing of history and the legal discipline's concern with the possibility of impartiality or objectivity in adjudication see Twining, "Some Skepticism," (see chap. 2, n. 63), 103-109. 2 6 Of course, the reliability of historians' accounts of the past goes considerably beyond their treatment of documentary evidence, and encompasses the constructs they use in looking at the evidence, the way they situate it relative to other evidence, the conceptual framework into which they place it, the narrative they write on the basis of it, and so on. For the purposes of the present study, however, the treatment of reliability is, of necessity, confined to that of the record's reliability. The peer review process is the ultimate arbiter of the reliability of the historian's account of the past. Gottschalk, "Use of Personal Documents," 39. 80 more independent witnesses (i.e., the rule of corroboration) is considered more reliable than a statement that has not been so corroborated . Moreover, historians writing on historical method often describe the process of internal criticism as a kind of interrogation, or cross-examination, in which records are forced to surrender information they had never intended to provide. Marc Bloch describes cross-examination as "the prime necessity of well-conducted historical research." 2 8 Michael Stanford draws on the same legal analogy when he suggests that, "Historical evidence is our only witness to the past. Therefore the historian must interrogate it ruthlessly like a prosecuting lawyer." 2 9 And, according to Le Goff, "documents become historical sources only after having undergone a treatment whose purpose is to transform their mendacious function into a confession of the t r u t h . " 3 0 In all these statements, the record is seen as a recalcitrant witness that, nevertheless, can be made to render a more or less reliable account of past events, once the motives and biases of its author are identified and taken into account. In Geoffrey Elton's view, the legal model is somewhat misleading as a metaphor for the historian's approach to documentary evidence. As he explains: I will admit that the legal model might be said to have a metaphorical or analogical validity—-that the analysis of documents can be made to appear similar to the cross-examination of a witness. But the metaphor misleads. The cross-examined witness is asked about his claims to have seen or heard that to which he testifies; the analysed document is asked questions about its origin, its place in a series, its contents of common form, even perhaps its authenticity (did it exist when it says it did?) With a witness we endeavour to ascertain the reliability of a statement, with a document the meaning of its existence and of its relation to a complex of events, not observations. 3 1 Elton's comments underline the importance of context to an understanding of the meaning of records. Such context is also important to an assessment of the reliability of certain kinds of records, as the legal rules governing the admissibility of business records demonstrate. Vernon Dibble underlines the significance of context in assessing the reliability of records in "Four Types of Inference From Documents to Events." He observes that the historical rules for evaluating testimony, like the legal rules, derive from inferences based on generalizations concerning the psychology of cognition ( e.g., "testimony about specific details is likely to be more accurate than testimony about general conditions"), the psychology of memory (e.g., "testimony recorded shortly after an event took place is likely to be more accurate than testimony recorded long afterwards"), and the nature of communication (e.g., Bloch, Historian's Craft, 64. Stanford, Companion to Study of History, 163. Le Goff, History and Memory, 184. Elton, "Which Road to the Past," 93 81 "testimony about ideologically relevant events addressed to people who share the witness's beliefs and values is likely to be more accurate than testimony addressed to audiences which do not share the witness's i d e o l o g y " ) 3 2 As Dibble points out, while such generalizations may be valid for assessing the reliability of records produced by individuals, their validity is less obvious when it comes to assessing the reliability of records produced by organizations which have institutionalized procedures for recording facts and events. Such records are more accurately characterized, Dibble maintains, as a form of "social bookkeeping" rather than as a form of "testimony." With the various forms of social bookkeeping, it is not so much the intentionality of individual authors of records as it is the nature and extent of the bureaucratic controls exercised over those authors that determine the records' degree of reliability with respect to the events they purport to record. Dibble identifies a number of factors likely to influence the reliability of organizational records, among them: the extent to which interested parties have a hand in producing the record; the extent to which those parties are likely to check the record after it is first created; the extent to which they are free to alter the record; the extent to which such alteration, if allowed, makes for greater accuracy or for less, 3 3 the extent to which the creation of the record has built-in checks, apart from interested parties; the extent to which the events recorded are visible to the record-keeper; the extent to which communication between observers and record-keepers is assured and; the number of steps between observer and record-keeper 3 4 The connection Dibble draws between the administrative context of a record's creation and its likely degree of reliability is based on the same kinds of generalizations about the nature of bureaucracy that are operative in the business records exception to the hearsay rule discussed in the last chapter. Reliability is measured in relation to the observer's and recorder's proximity to the event and the nature and degree of the procedural checks on record accuracy. The importance of reading records in the light of the bureaucratic system that produced them is basically an extension of the "rule of context" governing the interpretation of historical statements which dictates that the meaning of a statement must be interpreted in view of what precedes and follows it. 3 5 In Return to Essentials, Elton argues that a significant percentage of the documents upon which historians rely are "the product of administrative processes, and unless those processes are understood the products will be misjudged and misused." 3 6 He cites a number of Vernon K. Dibble, "Four Types of Inference From Documents to Events," History and Theory 3 (1964): 204-5. 3 For example, Dibble points out, "[tjranscripts of some legal proceedings may be less complete than they would be otherwise because interested parties can have remarks 'stricken from the record'. In contrast, alterations initiated by an interested party to his own advantage are likely to make for a more complete and a more accurate record if the record-keeper is in a position to make his own independent check on the accuracy of the suggested alteration." Ibid., 207-8. 2 4 Ibid., 207-8. 3 5 Shafer, Guide, 151. 3 6 G.R. Elton, Return to Essentials: Some Reflections on the Present State of Historical Study (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1991), 55. 82 examples where inaccurate inferences about historical events have been drawn from records simply because the historian has failed to take into account the administrative context in which the record was created. 3 7 The administrative context enlarges the traditional conception of the observer's/recorder's presence in time and place. The bureaucratic controls exercised over observation and recording constitute, in effect, an additional level of observation in which the bureaucracy itself watches over observers and recorders. Reliability is ensured not only because the observer/recorder is close to the event recorded but also because the recording itself takes place within a framework of bureaucratic observation and surveillance. The degree of reliability then, is the degree to which the bureaucracy shapes and constrains the speech of observers and recorders. The greater the constraints and controls imposed on recordkeeping by the bureaucracy, so the generalization goes, the greater the degree of the record's reliability. In "Causation in Historical Study," Robert Sharman suggests that the author of a bureaucratic record: ...has so little discretion as to what is recorded as to render the element of personal choice almost irrelevant. Now I admit that with certain types of records ...there is a larger area of discretion. A Colonial-Governor, for instance, writing despatches to London, may have a large amount of freedom as to what he records. Even this freedom, however, is exercised within certain limits. If he fails to answer specific enquiries from London, or if he forgets to report regularly on matters which the Secretary of State expects a Governor to report upon, Downing Street will soon call upon him for an explanation. And if a Viceroy has to render a true account of his stewardship, how much more diligent must a lowly official be in recording the transactions of his office 3 8 Sharman's comments underline the fact that in a bureaucratic environment recordkeeping represents a kind of controlled speech. Sharman's discussion of the comparative authority of attested and expository statements also suggests other analogies between law and history in the inference of reliability each draws from the administrative context of a record's creation. 3 9 An attested statement, according to Sharman, is one whose reliability is guaranteed by the office responsible for registering it. An official convict transportation record, such as an indent list or assignment list, which states the fact that a convicted felon was transported to one of the Australian colonies may be relied upon by historians because such fact was attested by the authorities whose job it was to register such transactions. An expository statement, on the other hand, does not possess the high J l Ibid., 55-59. 3 8 Robert C. Sharman, "Causation in Historical Study," in Debates and Discourses: Selected Archival Writings on Archival Theory 1951-1990 (Canberra: Australian Society of Archivists, 1995), 102. 2 9 Ibid., 110-111. 83 degree of reliability conferred on attested statements. As Sharman points out, it was the custom for the transporting authorities to take confessions from transported felons. The fact that the confession was made is itself an attested statement, but the official recording the confession cannot attest to the truth of the assertions contained within it. The distinction between attested and expository statements is consistent with legal assumptions about the reliability of events that occur outside the presence of the recorder. The portion of a hospital record that records the patient's case history prior to admission, for example, is not admissible under the business records exception to the hearsay rule because a patient's assertions about his or her prior condition cannot be substantiated by the doctor taking the case history. 4 0 The fact that an expository statement does not possess the inherent guarantee of reliability that an attested statement possesses does not render it completely unreliable. As Sharman explains, an ambassador's reply to a despatch containing instructions as to how he should represent his country's interests at the court to which he is accredited will contain both attested and expository statements: That he received the instructions is an attested statement, and it can also be attested that he was given an audience by the Secretary of State for Foreign Affairs. But the ambassador will then enlarge on the sort of reception his representations met with, and possibly the promises made by the Foreign Secretary. It is more than likely that we can look upon these as only expository statements. 4 1 While an expository statement contained in such a document lacks the kind of reliability granted an attested statement, its degree of reliability can nevertheless be measured on the basis of: the extent to which it was accepted and acted upon in the office to which it was sent. The ambassador may have exaggerated the effectiveness of his interview with the Foreign Secretary, but if his report is received in good faith, and if subsequent policy is based upon the outcome of representations supposedly made, we come a long way nearer to accepting expository statements as of evidential value to enable us to determine both what actually happened and why it h a p p e n e d . 4 2 In other words, a record that is treated by the bureaucracy as a reliable record is considered a reliable record. In recent years, modernist historical methods for assessing the reliability of a record have been challenged by new ways of looking at documentary sources. The reliability of any record depends on the question being asked of it and records See the discussion of Adderly v. Bremner at supra, 75. Sharman, "Causation," 111. Ibid., 111. 84 considered unreliable as an answer to one question, nevertheless, may be reliable as an answer to another question. Drawing on the legal model of evidence, David Hackett Fischer explains: ...sound evidence consists in the establishment of a satisfactory relationship between the factum probandum, or the proposition to be proved, and the factum probans, or the material which is offered as proof .... [It follows] that the criteria for a satisfactory factum probans depend in large degree upon the nature of the factum probandum. This is a pedantical way of saying that every fact in history is an answer to a question, and that evidence which is useful and true and sufficient in answer to question B may be false and useless in answer to question A . 4 3 However, modernist historical methods for assessing record reliability tend to privilege a particular way of looking at records. The reliability of a record is measured specifically in relation to its fidelity to the event it purports to record. Speculating on the reasons underlying that standard of measurement, Mark Cousins comments: A primary source is preferred over a secondary source because - why? Because it is close to - what? A complex of relations is opened up by this question. A primary source is closer to what it refers to than a secondary source. The word 'closer' has itself two connotations. It is closer to the truth and it is closer to the event. Truth is the adequate representation of the event. The event is the object which may be referred to in truth. A primary source is then the more reliable witness to the event. The event is most reliably represented by a witness, by testimony which can best be trusted. Secondary sources are tainted, less reliable; they cannot be treated as convincing testimony; they lack reliability. 4 4 The preference for primary sources over secondary sources, for unintentional evidence over intentional evidence, and for evidence given by a more or less neutral observer over that provided by an interested observer, are all based on an assumption that such evidence is the most credible testimony concerning the event to which a record refers. Letters of remission from the fourteenth to sixteenth centuries are a good example of a source traditionally considered to be unreliable, "a tissue of counter- Fischer, Historians' Fallacies, 62. 44 Mark Cousins, "The Practice of Historical Investigation," in Poststructuralism and the Question of History, ed. Derek Attridge, Geoff Bennington and Robert Young (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1987), 131. 85 truths, whose fidelity to the event it purports to record is hopelessly compromised by the self-interest of the person recounting the event. Letters of remission were pardons, granted by the king upon a request for grace by a supplicant, and ratified by a court of law. They were normally reserved for crimes such as homicide where the offender had been or could be sentenced to death. Incorporated into the letter of remission was the supplicant's story of unpremeditated, unintentional, or otherwise justified murder, as told to a royal notary, either by the supplicant or by relatives. By modernist criteria, a letter of remission is unreliable as evidence of the actual event the letter purports to record because it typically is recounted as a highly charged 'pardon tale' of passion and contrition. The narrative is clearly crafted to elicit the sympathy and grace of the king. Nevertheless, it is reliable as evidence of the storytelling event itself. According to Natalie Zemon Davis, letters of remission provide valuable "evidence of how sixteenth-century people told stories (albeit in the special case of the pardon tale), what they thought a good story was, how they accounted for motive, and how through narrative they made sense of the unexpected and built coherence into immediate experience." 4 6 What makes them unreliable as factual accounts - their fictive (in the sense of shaping) elements — is precisely what makes them reliable as narratives of those accounts. Moreover, they are, Davis maintains, "one of the best sources of relatively uninterrupted narrative from the lips of the lower orders ...in sixteenth-century France." 4 7 The understanding that records may be used to answer questions about events other than those they purport to record is not altogether ignored by modernist historians. As Dibble makes clear, historians analyze social bookkeeping for the same reasons they analyze testimony: "in order to make decisions about the probable accuracy or completeness of the record." But, he continues, "historians are not interested only in accurate social bookkeeping. Inaccurate social bookkeeping can be just as valuable as testimony known to consist of lies and distortions." Collingwood has pointed out that "anyone who has read Vico ...[knows] that the important question about any statement contained in a source is not whether it is Pierre Braun, "La valeur documentaire des lettres de remission," cited in Natalie Zemon Davis, Fiction in the Archives: Pardon Tales and their Tellers in Sixteenth Century France (Stanford, Calif.: Stanford University Press, 1987), 3. 4 6 Ibid., 4. 47 Ibid., 5. As Davis further explains, "Letters and memoirs from peasants and artisans are rare. Marriage contracts, wills, and other contracts are plentiful and tell us much about the actions, plans, and sensibilities of men and women who could not even sign their names at the bottom, but the documents themselves are dominated by notarial sequences and formulae. Letters of remission were also collaborative efforts ...but they gave much greater scope to the person to whom the notary was listening. Depositions and records of interrogations in criminal cases are extant for certain jurisdictions in the sixteenth century and are valuable indications of the way people recounted events. But witnesses were supposed to confine themselves to what they had seen or heard of a crime, and their stories often lack a beginning and an end ...they ...say little about motive ...and they do not [always] tell how the affair turned out.... As for the accused ... their testimony was ordinarily directed at every moment by the judge." Ibid., 5-6. 4 8 Dibble, "Four Types of Inference," 209. 86 true or false, but what it means.' The assertion, though overstated, is an important one because it emphasizes that, for the historian, unlike the lawyer, the fact that a record is found to be unreliable with respect to the events it purports to record does not diminish its value as historical evidence. The same observation holds true for inauthentic records. In law, a record that is found to be inauthentic is inadmissible as evidence. 5 0 Langlois' and Seignobos' manual, similarly, excluded inauthentic records from the historian's further consideration. Twentieth century historians are not so dismissive and recognize that a record's authenticity is only one dimension of its value as historical evidence. As R.C. Cheney explains: "[e]ven the 'authentic' character of a record, which appeals to the lawyer and which an archivist is sometimes at pains to preserve, is not the criterion of its value as historical evidence. The tendentious official account or the forgery, once recognized as such, will be valuable to the historian precisely because it is not objective or not authentic."5 1 The fact of forgery simply changes the kinds of inferences that may be drawn from the record. According to Jacques Le Goff, " a 'false' document is also a historical document that can provide valuable testimony regarding the period in which it was forged and concerning the period during which it was considered to be authentic and u s e d . " 5 2 Recognizing the value of an unreliable or inauthentic record as historical evidence does not, however, absolve the historian of responsibility for establishing whether the record is, or is not, trustworthy. As Shafer makes clear, "the historian is interested in lies as well as truth, but he must be able to distinguish between t h e m . " 5 3 The fact of a record's authenticity and its likely degree of reliability are an essential first link in the chain of inferences from the factum probans to the factum probandum. Even in Davis' study of sixteenth century letters of remission, which emphasizes the status of records as a form of persuasion rather than as a form of proof, the fidelity of the stories told in the letters to "real events" is taken into account (by comparing them with other contemporary accounts of the same events) in order to determine "what relation truth-telling had to the outcome of the stories and what truth status they enjoyed in society at large." 5 4 The emergence of postmodernist history has resulted in a more general "problematizing" of the presumed correspondence between evidence and reality underlying modernist historical methods for assessing record reliability. Carlo Ginzburg describes this presumption as a legacy of the scientific, or positivist history R.G. Collingwood, Idea of History, 260. 5 0 An obvious exception are cases involving fraud, e.g., the issuing of forged cheques or fraudulent electronic funds transfer. In such cases, the inauthentic record is admitted for the purposes of proving the fraud. 5 1 C.R. Cheney, "The Records of Medieval England," in Medieval Texts and Studies (Oxford: Clarendon Press, [1956], 1973), 11. 5 2 Le Goff, History and Memory, 183. 5 3 Shafer, Guide, 149. 54 Davis, Fiction in the Archives, 5. 87 of the nineteenth century, which tended to simplify the relationship between evidence and reality: As he explains: In a positivist perspective, the evidence is analyzed only in order to ascertain if, and when, it implies a distortion, either intentional or unintentional. The historian is thus confronted with various possibilities: a document can be a fake; a document can be authentic, but unreliable, insofar as the information it provides can be either lies or mistakes; or a document can be authentic and reliable. In the first two cases the evidence is dismissed; in the latter, it is accepted, but only as evidence of something else. In other words, the evidence is not regarded as a historical document in itself, but as a transparent medium — as an open window that gives us direct access to reality. 5 5 As Roland Barthes and other postmodern writers have shown, however, the assertion of a direct relationship between records and the events they purport to record is nothing more than a 'sleight of hand': the only feature which distinguishes historical discourse from other kinds is a paradox: the 'fact' can only exist linguistically, as a term in a discourse, yet we behave as if it were a simple reproduction of something on another plane of existence altogether, some extra- structural 'reality'. Historical discourse is presumably the only kind which aims at a referent 'outside' itself that can in fact never be reached." 5 6 Modernist historical methods are underpinned by the assumption that a direct relationship exists between the referent (a determinant reality—the past) and its expression (a record), and by a belief that it is possible to reconstruct the past on the basis of records that are somehow outside of signification. Postmodern discourse has problematized the status of the referent and "shown it to be not on the other side of signification but inside the historian's discourse that posits it as a referent." 5 7 In so doing, it has also problematized the status of the record as an accurate reflection of the past. Internal criticism, specifically, concentrates on determining, by means of a number of techniques and tests, the reliability of a record "as a true reflection of a Carlo Ginzburg, "Checking the Evidence: The Judge and the Historian," Critical Inquiry 18 (Autumn 1991): 83. 56 Roland Barthes, "Historical Discourse," in Introduction to Structuralism, ed. Michael Lane (New York: Basic Books, 1970), 153-54. 5 7 James Chandler, Arnold I. Davidson, and Harry Harootunian, "Introduction," in Questions of Evidence: Proof, Practice, and Persuasion Across the Disciplines, edited by James Chandler, Arnold I. Davidson, and Harry Harootunian (Chicago and London: Chicago University Press, 1994), 5. 88 past rather than its status as a representation and its conditions of production." Postmodernist writers argue that, before the complex relationship between a record and the external event it purports to record can be unravelled, the internal processes of documentary creation must be reconstructed. The problematizing of the external referent has been accompanied, therefore, by an increased interest in the nature and status of the record as sign and by the expressed need to penetrate its system of signification. Le Goff, for example, maintains that the aims of internal criticism, i.e., to assess the competence and sincerity of the record's author, determine the credibility of its content, and test it against other evidence, are insufficient because: Whether we are concerned with documents that are conscious or unconscious ...the conditions under which the document was produced must be carefully studied. In fact, the structures of power in a society include the power of certain social categories and dominant groups to voluntarily or involuntarily leave behind them testimony that can orient historiography in one direction or another. Power over future memory, the power to perpetuate, must be recognized and defused by the historian. No document is innocent. It must be judged. Every document is testimony or evidence {monument) which we have to know how to destructure, to take apart. The historian must be able, not simply to discern a fake, to judge the credibility of a document, but also to demystify it. 5 9 Traditionally, internal criticism has treated the document in general, and the bureaucratic record in particular, as muniment, i.e., as a byproduct and instrument of action. It assumes that, once the administrative context that shaped the record's creation is understood, so too will be the records' meaning as well as its degree of reliability. As Le Goff suggests, however, the document's ideological and propagandistic meaning must also be exposed and demystified. To do so, it is necessary to reposition the document as monument. The theme of document as monument is pursued by Michel Foucault in The Archeology of Knowledge, where he summarizes it as follows: ...history, in its traditional form, undertook to 'memorize' the monuments of the past, transform them into documents, and lend speech to those traces which, in themselves, are often not verbal, or which say in silence something other than what they actually say; in . our time, history is that which transforms documents into monuments. In that area where, in the past history deciphered the traces left by men, it now deploys a mass of elements that have to be grouped, made relevant, placed in relation to one another to form totalities. 6 0 5 8 Ibid. 5 9 Le Goff, History and Memory, 184. 6 0 Michel Foucault, The Archaeology of Knowledge, translated by A.M. Sheridan Smith (New York: Harper and Row, 1972)y 7. 89 The treatment of the document as "monument" is evident in recent diplomatic studies of medieval charters, where the traditional emphasis on "the univocal connection between written evidence and juridical event" has been augmented and replaced, to a certain extent, by a new emphasis on "the linguistic masquerade, the semantic shell, appearance, sign, and interpretive voice that is the natural attribute of any text." 6 1 An example is Armando Petrucci's examination of the language used in the preambles of a number of Italian private and semi-public documents between the tenth and thirteenth centuries. Petrucci finds in the formulas used by notaries in preparing preambles an increasing "preoccupation with affirming the validity of written evidence in comparison with the transience of oral evidence." 6 2 Preambles from the eleventh century contrast the permanence of documentary memoria with the oblivio of human memory. The concept of documentary memory is gradually accompanied, in the twelfth century, by that of Veritas which, in turn, is linked, in the thirteenth century, to publicitas and instrumentum publicum. The shifts in the wording of the formulas used in preambles reflect the growing status of the document as an instrument of juridical power, as well as the growing status of Italy's professional notariate as an exclusive wielder of such power. 6 3 The new emphasis on exposing the discursive strategies employed in the production of documents is justified on the grounds that historians "do not study physical acts ...but documents that are word acts of an ideological language whose reconstruction should be our preliminary and preeminent task". 6 4 Postmodernism stresses, not only the power structure immanent in language (and, therefore, records), but also the indeterminate, sometimes duplicitous, nature of language and its dissociation from any presumed reality. 6 5 Linguistic communication is used for a variety of purposes and rarely with the sole intention to inform. According to J.L. Austin's theory of speech acts, when we make a statement, we perform at least three different acts. A locutionary act "is roughly equivalent to uttering a certain sentence with a certain sense and reference [i.e., meaning]." An illocutionary act is roughly equivalent to informing, warning, and so on; such utterances have a certain conventional force. A perlocutionary act is "what we bring about or achieve by saying something, such as convincing, persuading, deterring, and, even, say, surprising or misleading." 6 6 Austin's theory of speech acts demonstrates the different senses or dimensions of the use of language in speech acts, which apply to written as well as to oral communication. Petrucci, "Illusion of Authentic History," (see chap. 1, n. 19), 238. 6 2 Ibid., 239. 63 Ibid., 240-246. For further examples of new approaches to interpreting medieval charters, see Olivier Guyotjeannin, "La diplomatique medievale et I'elargissement de son champ," La Gazette des Archives 172 (1996):14-18 and Davies and Fouracre, eds., Settlement of Disputes, (see chap. 1, n. 17). 64 Mario Liverani, quoted in Petrucci, "Illusion of Authentic History," 238. 65 Himmelfarb, "Postmodernist History," 132. 6 6 J.L. Austin, How to do Things with Words, 2 n d ed. (Cambridge, Mass.: Harvard University Press, 1975), 109-110. 90 In demonstrating those different dimensions, the theory also illustrates the limits of the historian's capacity to enter into the minds of those who lived in the past by analyzing the documentary remains of that past. Every act of communication involves an act of translation and every speech act requires what Keith Jenkins describes as an "interpretation between privacies." 6 7 As he elaborates: The philosophical problem of 'other minds' as discussed by Wittgenstein and others, considers whether it is possible to enter into the mind of another person we know well and who is beside one, and concludes that it is not. Historians, however, have disregarded this conclusion and have continued to raise questions that are based on the assumption that it actually is possible to enter lots and lots of minds, even minds we cannot possibly know well, and which are far away from us in space and t i m e . 6 8 Historians, such as Collingwood, who believe that it is possible to enter into the minds and experiences of people in the past, 6 9 in Jenkins' view, simply ignore the fundamental limits and, ultimately, impossibility, of achieving such empathy. Postmodern writing on history stresses the contingent and indeterminate nature of historical knowledge in general, and the documentary conception of such knowledge in particular: All documents ...used by historians are not neutral evidence for reconstructing phenomena which are assumed to have some independent existence outside them. All documents process information and the very way they do so is itself a historical fact that limits the documentary conception of historical knowledge ....the lesson here is that the past once existed, but that our historical knowledge of it is semiotically transmitted. 7 0 Postmodern historical discourse thus usefully points out some of the limits of internal criticism, of the concept of reliability, and of the rationalist assumptions on which both are built. The discourse betrays its own limits, however, by the unremittingly skeptical stance it adopts toward the possibility of knowing the past at all through its documentary traces. According to Gertrude Himmelfarb, postmodernist history "denies not only suprahistorical truths but historical truths, truths relative to particular times and places." In so doing, it denies "the reality of the past apart from what the historian chooses to make of it, and thus of any objective truth about the past."7 1 The °' Keith Jenkins, Re-Thinking History (London and New York: Routledge, 1991), 39. 6 8 Ibid. The "problem of other minds" is also at the heart of the hearsay rule prohibiting the admissibility of testimonial statements that cannot be tested by cross-examination. 6 9 Collingwood, Idea of History, 282-302. 7 0 Linda Hutcheon, A Poetics of Postmodernism: History, Theory Fiction (New York and London: Routledge, 1988), 122. 7 1 Himmelfarb, 131, 133. 91 postmodernist views records and reality alike "as a 'text' that exists only in the present - a text to be parsed, glossed, construed, and interpreted by the historian, much as a poem or novel is by the critic. And, like any literary text, the historical text is indeterminate and contradictory, paradoxical and ironic, rhetorical and metaphoric." 7 2 Himmelfarb decries postmodernist history's philosophical "presumption that because it is impossible to attain [either absolute truth or partial, contingent] ...truths, it is not only futile but positively baneful to aspire to t h e m " 7 3 because such a presumption, in her view, amounts to a repudiation of history and the entire practice of history since the nineteenth century. Himmelfarb's characterization of postmodernist history, while substantially accurate, is caustic and somewhat intemperate. Raymond Martin, on the other hand, is fairly sanguine about the practical implications postmodernist skepticism holds for historical methodology. In a forum dedicated to a discussion of truth and objectivity in history in the wake of postmodernism, Martin maintains that while [historians' feelings about [truth and objectivity] may affect profoundly how they w'ew historical studies ...they seem unlikely to have much effect on how they actually do history. Historians who want to be taken seriously have to support their interpretations by evidence, and by the same sorts of evidence, and in the same ways, whether they are objectivists, relativists, or skeptics. 7 4 Moreover, he wryly observes, ...hardly anyone, including self-proclaimed skeptics acts as if he or she believes,skepticism all the way down ....even Foucault, after admitting (perhaps to disarm his critics) that he produces only fictions, added quickly and without explanation, "I do not mean to go so far as to say that fictions are beyond truth. It seems to me that it is possible to make fiction work inside of truth." Indeed. 7 5 The most balanced perspective on the matter is offered by Carlo Ginzburg. He points out that, whereas traditional history has tended to treat documentary evidence as an open window, postmodern skeptics regard it "as a wall, which by definition "~ Ibid., 140. Himmelfarb's comments in this passage are directed at postmodernists in general and at the work of Hayden White in particular, who she calls "the leading postmodern philosopher of history." For White's views on history as narrative discourse, see White, The Content of the Form: Narrative Discourse and Historical Representation (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1987); Tropics of Discourse: Essays in Cultural Criticism (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1978); Metahistory: The Historical Imagination in Nineteenth-Century Europe (Baltimore: Johns Hopkins University Press, 1973) See also Keith Jenkins, "On Hayden White," in On What is History?': From Carr and Elton to Rorty and White (New York: Routledge, 1995), 134-179. 7 3 Himmelfarb, 135. 7 4 Raymond Martin, Joan W. Scott, and Cushing Strout, "Forum on Telling the Truth About History," History and Theory 34 (1995): 320. 7 5 Ibid., 327. 92 precludes any access to reality. In this respect, both the "theoretical naivete" of modernist historians and the "theoretical sophistication" of the postmodernists find common ground in a rather simplistic assumption that the relationship between evidence and reality is a straightforward one when, in fact, it is more accurately characterized as a complex and mutually dependent one: Without a thorough analysis of [a record's] inherent distortions (the codes according to which it has been constructed and/or must be perceived), a sound historical construction [of the past] is impossible. But this statement should also be read the other way around: a purely internal reading of the evidence, without any reference to its referential dimension, is impossible as well. ...The fashionable injunction to study reality as a text should be supplemented by the awareness that no text can be understood without a reference to extratextual r e a l i t i e s 7 7 The insights of postmodernist history pose a philosophical challenge to modernist historical methods for assessing the reliability and authenticity of records. Changes in the technologies for creating and maintaining records pose a more practical challenge. As bureaucracies rely increasingly on new information and communication technologies to create and maintain records, the question that presents itself is whether the techniques of external and internal criticism are adequate to the task of verifying the authenticity and degree of reliability of electronic records whose most salient feature is the ease with which they can be invisibly altered and manipulated. As Jean Samuels points out in connection with electronic mail messages: A problem for ownership identification can occur when messages are forwarded or circulated to others. If the original heading (showing source, date, etc.) is removed from the message or if the body of the text is edited (both of which are easily done on most systems) then the original temper or content of the message can be radically or subtly altered. So what may appear as the forwarded message of X is, in fact, the forwarded message of X with additions and changes by Y. Likewise, a message from X may be forwarded, without the original heading, by Y to Z. To Z the message will appears as Y's own thoughts and message. 7 8 Attributing authorship represents one dimension of the problem; another dimension is that of identifying provenance. According to Charles Dollar, Carlo Ginzburg, "Checking the Evidence: The Judge and the Historian," Critical Inquiry 18 (Autumn 1991): 83. 7 7 Ibid., 84. 7 8 Jean Samuel, "Electronic Mail: Information Exchange or Information Loss?" in Electronic Infomiation Resources and Historians: European Perspectives, edited by Seamus Ross and Edward Higgs (Gottingen and London: Max-Planckdnstitut fur Geschichte and the British Library Board, 1993), 61. 93 The challenge of identifying and maintaining the provenance of electronic records is much more severe where there is a network or corporate-wide database, because computer to computer linkages dissolve the traditional boundaries between organizations, sub- operating units, and offices that in the past provided much of the provenance based information. In a network or corporate-wide database, the database management system determines where and how information is stored. A user may retrieve information from a corporate database or a distributed database without knowing where the information is stored, which unit created it, whether the information has been updated, or who uses it, because the database information is not self-referential. 7 9 In manuals of historical methodology it is understood implicitly that knowledge of the context in which bureaucratic records have been created is crucial to an assessment of their authenticity and degree of reliability. That context includes knowing, not only where a document was created, i.e., its provenance, but also the purpose for its creation, i.e., the administrative and procedural framework in which it was created, the audience for whom it was intended, when and how it was received by the addressee, and how it was transmitted and preserved over time. In traditional paper recordkeeping systems, Dollar observes, such context tends to manifest itself: in organization charts and manuals, procedures, policies, physical ...arrangement of the records [e.g., in files], media characteristics such as watermarks, formal elements such as letterheads, and in content/context elements such as names of writers and recipients, dates, references to other documents or files, and the like. In addition, individual documents may contain marginalia, initials, and similar contextual information that reveal the information environment in which records were created, used, and maintained. 8 0 As electronic recordkeeping systems replace paper ones, however, the inherent, and visible, links among the physical, formal and contextual components of a record are disappearing. This is because, in electronic information systems, the components are stored and managed independently of one another within a database. An illustration of the way in which electronic systems separate the various components of a record is provided by Dollar in his description of an electronic health care application case file containing: demographic data, medical examinations results and diagnostics, and hospital care records for individuals. The electronic case file for an individual does not exist as a physical entity but rather as chunks of Charles M. Dollar, Archival Theory and Information Technologies: The Impact of Information Technologies on Archival Principles and Methods, edited by Oddo Bucci (Macerata: University of Macerata, 1992), 50-51. 8 0 Ibid, 49. 94 electronic data stored in different parts of the health care application system. These chunks of electronic data become a case file or view of the case file when they manifest a logical structure as a result of being displayed on a monitor or printed. This manifestation is the result of software that joins disparate data and reconstructs them so the whole looks like a document. A manifested electronic case file (or view), therefore, will display sequential logical relations that may not be inherent in the chunks of data that were retrieved. The physical relations of this case file are stored electronically independently of the d a t a . 8 1 Some of the identifying components of an electronic record, e.g., those that place it within its administrative and procedural context are generated by database or system software that is inaccessible to the user. Moreover, because the components are managed separately, there is no guarantee that they will be preserved in a manner that will permit the reconstruction of the record over time. In many instances, such data will not be preserved at all. A starting point for historians in their efforts to verify the authenticity of a record is the determination of its status as an original or copy. Since an original record contains all the original markings (e.g., the signature, the seal), it traditionally has been easier to authenticate an original than a copy. Determining an electronic record's status as an original or copy is complicated, not only by the absence of coherent criteria for distinguishing between the two in an electronic environment, but also by the fact that an electronic record cannot survive in the form in which it was originally created for any substantial length of time given the fragility of storage media and the inevitability of technology obsolescence. The form of an electronic record is substantially determined by hardware and software functionality; its original integrity may be lost, therefore, when records are migrated, transferred to ASCII text, or printed to paper. As David Bearman explains: As long as the information created in the course of work in an electronic environment remains in the software and hardware system in which it was created, it loses none of the contextual information - which is critical to its meaning, but the transition, or "migration" of data to a new environment threatens to change the way the information looks, feels or operates, and hence what it m e a n s . 8 2 The erosion of an original record over time is not, of course, a uniquely contemporary phenomenon. Over the centuries, ancient texts have been subjected to similar erosion as a consequence of "scientific" manipulations: Ibid., 37. See also ibid., app. C. 8 2 David Bearman, "Archival Principles and the Electronic Office," in Information Handling in Offices and Archives, edited by Angelika Menne-Haritz (Munchen: K.G. Saur, 1993), 190. 95 a document, and particularly a text, may over the course of time undergo apparently scientific manipulations that have in reality obliterated the original. For example, it has been brilliantly demonstrated that the letter from Epicurus to Herodotus that is preserved in Diogenes Laertius' Lives, Teachings, and Apophthegms of the Famous Philosophers was reworked by a secular tradition that buried the letter of the text under the annotations and corrections which/whether intentionally or not, finally stifled and distorted the letter of the text through "a reading that was uncomprehending, indifferent, or partisan." 8 3 The original text of the Corpus Juris Civilis suffered similar indignities at the hands of medieval commentators and glossators. The main difference between the ancient and contemporary examples is that with the ancient texts, the annotations and corrections over time disfigured the original document's content; with electronic records, the migration of the document over time threatens to disfigure aspects of its original appearance or presentation elements (such as colours, original fonts, letterhead, the organization of the elements of the discourse) and, in so doing, to alter or distort its content. Recent historical literature addressing the implications of information technology on historical methodology 8 4 reflects historians' concern that the complexity and volatility of electronic records may defeat their efforts to establish the authenticity of such records. On the other hand, many historians also believe that the computer may actually enhance both the authenticity and the reliability of records because electronic systems are capable of capturing more of the context in which electronic records are created and used within bureaucratic organizations than was possible with traditional recordkeeping systems. Ronald Zweig maintains that: The more sophisticated electronic office systems record an additional level of information about documents beyond their textual content, their appearance and structure. These systems also record how documents are used. In this context, "usage" has many possible meanings. Office systems track the creation of a document, its evolution through various drafts by various authors, and its movement through the organizational hierarchy. W e can know who received it, who read it, who annotated it. W e can reconstruct how widely it was distributed amongst decision makers. Its system priority, security level and entire life cycle can be known in ways we can only rarely reconstruct from the extant records of conventional documents. As any contemporary historian will appreciate, extraneous pieces of evidence such as distribution lists, Le Goff, History and Memory, 183. 8 4 The effect of electronic records on historical research and on the attributability and verifiability of electronic sources of history are discussed in, for example, Ross and Higgs, eds. Electronic Information Resources and in R.J. Morris, ed. "Historians and the Electronically Created Record," History and Computing 4 (1992). 96 and signed receipts for a document can give valuable additional information about the significance of the documents to which they are attached ...the electronic version of a document can be designed to retain these usage attributes in a complete f o r m . 8 5 Zweig likens these attributes to "fingerprints" on a document which not only provide a built-in check on the reliability and authenticity of records generated from an electronic system but also serve as a rich source of data concerning each transaction that takes place within that system. In Zweig's view, records generated by new technologies transcend the traditional boundaries of paper records and provide a more complete view of the past: Electronic records can be more comprehensive than any paper document, and modern documents will be compound things that cannot be expressed on paper. They will contain graphics, images, voice, video, animations. ...Documents can contain links and pointers to many other (interlinked) files of 'documents' so that the hypertext links are part of the information that the document contains. Alternatively, the electronic document can be continually updated by links to databases. Historians will not work with documents that have traditional boundaries at all, but with 'entities' that are really pieces of links to other materials which are stored throughout a computer network and are constantly being updated. 8 6 There is no question that compound, hypertext and hypermedia documents offer exciting possibilities for providing a more detailed picture of the past. On the other hand, the multiplication of sources from which a document can be constructed, which may not be visible to the user, and the dynamic nature of the databases from which the data are drawn, will also exacerbate the already difficult task of establishing the reliability and authenticity of those sources. Zweig's enthusiasm for the potential of electronic records systems to provide historians with a more complete picture of the past than previously has been possible is tempered by a concern that the potential of electronic office systems to retain contextual information on usage, such as permissions, views, and audit trails may not be realized: ...many such systems ignore the usage information, in favour of mimicking as closely as possible existing office practices. Other systems abandon the systems management information on usage as soon as a copy of the document has been unaltered for a given period of time and it Ronald Zweig, "Beyond Content: Electronic Fingerprints and the Use of Documents," in Electronic •Information Resources, 254. B6 Ibid, 255. 97 is archived. There are no agreed standards of what sort of usage information should be preserved, or how to do s o . 8 7 The lack of agreed standards is attributable, in part, to the fact that many electronic systems have been designed to function as information systems, rather than as recordkeeping systems. Bearman explains the difference between the two in the following way: ...record-keeping systems keep and support retrieval of records, while information systems store and provide access to information. Record- keeping systems are distinguished from information systems within organizations by the role that they play in providing organizations with evidence of business transactions (by which is meant actions taken in the course of conducting their business, rather than 'commercial' transactions). Non-record information systems, on the other hand, store information in discrete chunks that can be recombined and reused without reference to their documentary context. 8 8 In many information systems, the usage context in particular cannot be preserved because the systems have not been designed to capture all the inputs and outputs in an auditable t r a i l 8 9 Zweig believes that existing policies and practices governing organizational recordkeeping need to be re-examined and revised to exploit the potential of electronic systems and that historians have a vital role to play in that re- examination and revision. Since records managers and archivists "are not necessarily aware of the special needs of historians, ... it is up to the [historical] profession to define which attributes of electronic documents should be preserved to facilitate our work in reconstructing the past." 9 0 Other historians, such as Peter Denley, question the desirability of historians striking an alliance with records creators to determine how, and in what form, electronic records will be preserved: The rationale behind data creation is immensely broad, but might perhaps be categorised as 1) the need for a smooth flow of information to make corporate activity possible, 2) the need for proof of activity or entitlement, 3) the presentation of the 'public face' of that activity. When it comes to data storage, the second and third of these categories predominate, indeed take over from the first (to the extent that it becomes important to the data creators that records which challenge or compromise them are destroyed). By contrast, historians want to unpick 0 1 Ibid., 254. 8 8 David Bearman, "Record-Keeping Systems," Archivaria 36 (Autumn 1993): 17. 8 9 Paul Marsden, "What is the Future? Comparative Notes on the Electronic Record-keeping Projects of the University of Pittsburgh and the University of British Columbia," Archivaria 43 (Spring 1997): 162. 9 0 Zweig, "Beyond Content," 257. 98 the public face that is presented. They want to read between the lines, to worm their way into the subtext and assumptions behind the presented image, and to discover the practices that are accidentally or deliberately hidden to view. It was ever thus. All that has changed is the nature and volume of the data, and the way it is created and accessed. That historians are increasingly being involved in the process at an earlier stage ...is good news, and helps the two sides to better mutual understanding. It would be illusory, and dangerous, though, to imagine that there could or should be real partnership. That is not the function of the historian.9 1 In Denley's view, the interests of the protagonists and interpreters of history are, inevitably, in conflict with each other. Given those conflicting interests, the historian's position in relation to records creators must, of necessity, remain an adversarial one. A forum in which historians have adopted such an adversarial position and, in the process, raised the issue of what constitutes a trustworthy record in an electronic environment, is the American courts. In two recent cases: Armstrong v. Executive Office of the President and Public Citizen et al. v. John Carlin in his official capacity as Archivist of the United States, et al., historians, journalists, and other researchers challenged the right of the government to destroy electronic records generated by federal agencies. The cases do not directly answer the question whether the techniques of external and internal criticism are adequate for verifying the authenticity and degree of reliability of electronic records. They do, however, reveal a number of implicit assumptions concerning what historians and other researchers consider to be the essential characteristics of reliable and authentic electronic records, some of which run counter to traditional assumptions. In 1989, Scott Armstrong (who was then executive director of the National Security Archive) and others sought an injunction prohibiting the destruction of backup tapes from the IBM PROFS system, the electronic mail system which served the agencies of the Executive Office of the President (EOP), including the National Security Council ( N S C ) 9 2 The electronic mail on the system was created by the Reagan and Bush White House and government officials intended to erase all the data remaining on the system at the end of the Reagan administration. The lawsuit filed by Armstrong and others made three claims: first, that some information on the PROFS system qualified either as agency records under the Federal Records Act or as presidential records under the Presidential Records Act; that the Executive Office Peter Denley, "The Flood and the Hunt: Data Creation, Storage and Retrieval in the Electronic Age," in Electronic Information Resources, 23. 9 2 As David Bearman points out in his summary of the Armstrong case, "this is the same system that earlier achieved substantial notoriety because it revealed that Lieutenant Colonel Oliver North and his superiors had engaged in a scheme to sell arms to Iran and use the profits to aid the Nicaraguan Contras after North had destroyed the paper trails that might have implicated the National Security Council staff in the effort." See David Bearman, "The Implications of Armstrong v. Executive Office of the President for the Archival Management of Electronic Environment," American Archivist 56 (Fall 93): 675. 99 of the President failed to formulate and implement guidelines for the management of its electronic mail consistent with law and regulation; and that the Archivist of the United States neglected to carry out his statutory responsibilities with respect to the electronic records on the PROFS system. The plaintiffs sought relief "in the form of implemented guidelines for future electronic mail and for appraisal of the records on the PROFS system at the time of f i l i n g . " 9 3 The case was decided in favor of the plaintiffs and the decision was upheld on appeal. In 1993, the U.S. Court of Appeals for the District of Columbia in Armstrong v. Executive Office of the President ("Armstrong II")94 held that electronic versions of documents are records that must be created, managed and disposed under the rules set out in the Federal Records Act ( F R A ) 9 5 The Act prohibits agencies from destroying records without the prior approval of the Archivist of the United States. 9 6 In making its ruling, the court rejected the government's claim that the PROFS system was not a recordkeeping system and that therefore the information within it could not be defined as records. The court observed that, while PROFS was not set up as a recordkeeping system, it was, nevertheless, used to carry out substantive business. Staff with access to the EOP and NSC electronic mail systems used the systems "to relay substantive-even classified 'notes' that, in content, are often indistinguishable from letters and memoranda." 9 7 The court also rejected the government's argument that electronic versions of documents, once copied to paper, are no longer " r e c o r d s . " 9 8 The court maintained that, unless an electronic message is an identical extra copy of a paper printout, it is considered a record whose disposition must be determined in accordance with the FRA. Moreover, the court argued, paper printouts of electronic mail are not exact duplicates of the electronic versions because they do not generally contain all the information found in the electronic original. Speaking for the court, Judge Wald stated that paper printouts that do not include "all significant material" contained in the electronic records "cannot accurately be termed 'copies'-identical twins-but are, at most, 'kissing cousins.'" 9 9 The court cited as examples of the kinds of "significant material" potentially absent in the paper printout the names of recipients and senders, the date and time of receipt, the link to prior messages and full distribution 9 4 1 F.3d 1274, 1287 (D.C. Cir. 1993). 9 5 44 U.S.C. para. 2201 et seq., 2901 etseq., 3101 et seq., and 3301 et seq. The FRA requires that each federal agency "make and preserve records containing adequate and proper documentation of the organization, functions, policies, decisions, procedures and essential transactions of the agency."Ibid., at 3101. The term "records" includes "all books, papers, maps, photographs, machine readable materials, or other documentary material regardless of physical form or characteristics, made or received by an agency of the United States." 9 6 In his summary, Bearman notes, "the parties agreed that the Archivist did not give prior authority to the disposal of the electronic records of the PROFS system and the government admitted that the Archivist was advised by the plaintiffs of the proposed destruction of these records before it was scheduled to take place and did not elect to act." Bearman, "Implications of Armstrong," 677. 9 7 Ibid, 679. 9 8 Armstrong II, at 1285. 9 9 Ibid, at 1283 100 l i s t s . 1 0 0 According to David Bearman, the court's ruling established that "structural and contextual data, in addition to the content of messages, are crucial to "recordness," and "archiving" without capturing such critical evidence is equivalent to destroying the r e c o r d . 1 0 1 In Armstrong, electronic mail messages provided a focal point for the court's consideration of what constitutes a record in an electronic environment, what constitutes a complete record in that environment, and the value of an electronic version of a record, relative to its paper counterpart. In a subsequent court case, Public Citizen et al v. Carlin et al, the court was asked to consider the same questions in relation to a broader range of electronic records. The ruling in Armstrong did not affect the ability of federal agencies to destroy incidental electronic records that, in the opinion of the Archivist of the United States, lacked sufficient administrative, legal, research or other value to justify their continued preservation. 1 0 2 In 1995, the National Archives and Records, Administration (NARA) issued revisions to General Records Schedule 20 (GRS 20), 1 0 3 which authorized the destruction of electronic records in fifteen enumerated categories, including electronic records created by computer operators, programmers, analysts, systems administrators and government staff using office automation applications. A group of historians, journalists, and other researchers responded by launching a lawsuit, charging that the regulation was "arbitrary and capricious, irrational and contrary to l a w . " 1 0 4 According to the plaintiffs 1 0 5 in Public Citizen, the Archivist had no authority to use a General Records Schedule to authorize the blanket destruction of electronic records, without first determining whether they were housekeeping records of short-term value or program records of long-term value. The most contentious provisions in GRS 20 relate to word processing files (item 13), electronic mail message records, including attachments (item 14), and Bearman, "Implications of Armstrong," 679. 1 0 1 Ibid. 1 0 2 Armstrong II, 1 F.3d at 1287. 103 General Records Schedules are authorizations by the Archivist of the United States to destroy records that are of a specific "form or character common to several or all agencies" and that lack, "after a specified period of time" sufficient administrative, legal, research or other value to warrant their continued preservation. 44 U.S.C. para. 3303a(d). The scope of a General Records Schedule is restricted to administrative or housekeeping records maintained by federal agencies; operational or program records of federal agencies can only be destroyed through the promulgation of individual agency schedules. General Records Schedule 20, which was first issued in 1972, authorizes the destruction of electronic records that fall within the category of housekeeping records. 1 0 4 Public Citizen, Inc., et al v. John Carlin in his official capacity as Archivist of the United States, et al, District of Columbia Circuit. Civil Action No. 96-2840, 10/22/97, 1 at http://www.nara.qov/records/qrs20/opinion.html. The plaintiffs included Public Citizen, Inc., the American Historical Association, the American Library Association, the Center for National Security Studies; the National Security Archive; the Organization of American Historians; Scott Armstrong, and Eddie Becker. Public Citizen Inc., is a public interest lobby group founded by Ralph Nader in 1971). 101 http://www.nara.qov/records/qrs20/opinion.html electronic spreadsheets (item 15). Items 13 and 14 permit agencies to delete word processing files and electronic mail message records from the original system on which they were created "after they have been copied to an electronic recordkeeping system, paper, or microform for recordkeeping purposes." Item 15 permits the deletion of electronic spreadsheets once they have been copied to paper. 1 0 6 The plaintiffs maintained that the promulgation of GRS 20 had already resulted in agencies adopting a "print and delete" policy with regard to these types of electronic records. In Armstrong II, the government had argued that the process of printing out an electronic record takes away its status as a record. In Public Citizen, it argued that the creation of a paper version of an electronic record under GRS 20 takes away the electronic version's long-term value and, in turn, its status as a program record. The view taken by the court in Public Citizen was that the government's argument was "no more persuasive than the one rejected by the court of appeals in Armstrong II. While an exact duplicate of a particular record might be discardable, electronic records cannot categorically be regarded as valueless '"extra copies' of paper versions. ...Simply put, electronic communications are rarely identical to their paper counterparts; they are records unique and distinct from printed versions of the same r e c o r d . " 1 0 7 NARA's defence of GRS 20 was based on its assertion that, far from authorizing the destruction of valuable records created by office automation, GRS 20, along with NARA regulations and guidelines, aimed to preserve such records by requiring agencies to transfer them to an appropriate recordkeeping system. Agencies were not authorized to delete the versions on the electronic mail and word processing systems until the records had been properly preserved in an agency- controlled recordkeeping system, i.e., a system with the "capability to group similar records and provide the necessary context to connect the record with the relevant agency function or t r a n s a c t i o n . " 1 0 8 For word processing records, such context would include, among other things, the office of origin, file classification code, key words for retrieval, addressee, author, signer, date and security classification. If the records were maintained in an electronic recordkeeping system, they had to be correlated with related records on paper, microform, or other media. 1 0 9 To meet the specific concerns raised in Armstrong II in regard to electronic mail messages, Item 14 of GRS 20 required agencies to copy the names of sender and recipients and dates of transmission or receipt, along with the message text, to the recordkeeping system before the message was d e s t r o y e d . 1 1 0 According to NARA, the reason agencies were printing electronic records to paper was simply that their electronic systems 1 0 6 [U.S.] National Archives and Records Administration, "Federal Register Notice on 1995 revision of GRS 20, 60 FR 44643-44650, including the full text of the current version of GRS 20, 15-16 at qqpher://qoDher.nara.aov:70/00/manaQers/federal/grsfr.txt. ™' Public Citizen etal. v. Carlin, 12. 1 0 8 "Federal Register Notice on 1995 revision of GRS 20," 4. 1 0 9 36 CFR Chapter XII, Part 1234.22 subpart C: "Standards for the Creation, Use, Preservation, and Disposition of Electronic Records: Creation and Use of Text Documents." 1 1 0 See also 36 CFR XII, Part 1234.24, "Standards for Managing Electronic Mail Records." 102 were incapable of meeting the recordkeeping requirements. Therefore, agencies had little choice but to print the electronic records out and incorporate them into a traditional paper recordkeeping system which was capable of maintaining the records in their documentary and administrative context. NARA pointed out that, as the technology progresses, "agencies will be able to consider converting to electronic recordkeeping systems for their records." 1 1 1 Underpinning NARA's position were the twin beliefs that the long-term value of government records for both administrative and research purposes is intimately connected to their trustworthiness, and that maintaining records in a secure, centrally controlled recordkeeping system is the best means of ensuring it. Because electronic mail messages and word processing records typically are stored in disparate electronic files maintained by individuals rather than in centrally controlled files that are maintained by and for the agency as a whole, they lack the circumstantial guarantee of trustworthiness that such control provides. NARA believed that instituting procedures directed toward re-asserting centralized control over bureaucratic recordkeeping and bringing electronic records within the scope of that control offered the most appropriate solution to the problem of ensuring the trustworthiness of records and, hence, their value as evidence. In the end, the court in Public Citizen sided with the plaintiffs concluding that, in promulgating GRS 20, the Archivist had exceeded his authority and failed to carry out his statutory duty to determine whether the records scheduled for disposal possessed sufficient administrative, legal, research, or other value to warrant their continued preservation. Accordingly, the court declared the regulation "null and void" and ordered it to be withdrawn. In both Armstrong and Public Citizen, the courts accepted the plaintiffs' assertion that an electronic version of a record is inherently more complete and, by implication, more trustworthy than a printout version of that record. The courts also accepted the plaintiffs' view that for electronic records to be complete, the original functionality of the "live" system in which they were created must be preserved. According to the plaintiffs, word processing records and electronic spreadsheets, like electronic mail messages, contain information that is not preserved in a print-out record or even in other computerized systems of records. For example, print-outs of computer spreadsheets only display the results of calculations made on the spreadsheet, while the actual electronic version of the spreadsheet will show the formula used to make the calculations. ...Some word processing systems allow users to annotate a document with a "summary" or "comments" that contain information on the author of the document, its purpose, the date that it was drafted or revised, and annotations by authors or reviewers. ...These comments, however, usually do not appear on a printed copy of the record. Such 1 1 1 "Federal Register Notice on 1995 revision of GRS 20," 4. 103 differences between electronic and paper records illustrate the fact that the administrative, legal, research and historical value of electronic records is not always fully captured indeed, is usually not captured - by paper or microfiche copies. Electronic records, therefore do not become valueless duplicates ...once they have been printed on paper; rather they retain features unique to their m e d i u m . 1 1 2 The context the plaintiffs sought to protect in launching their lawsuit is both broader and narrower than the one with which NARA was concerned. It is broader because it encompasses the entire hardware and software environment in which records are generated, and narrower because it confines itself to the original electronic system and excludes the broader documentary and administrative context in which those records are created and used. From the plaintiffs' perspective, the electronic record in its "live" environment constitutes the best evidence because it allows researchers to see past events through the eyes of its original creator and user(s). The events to which the electronic records bear witness, however, are restricted to those that are captured (or "witnessed") by the computer and stored in its memory. In that respect, such records can hardly be described as "complete." Moreover, in accepting the plaintiff's argument, the Court failed to take into account the fact that certain aspects of the live system's functionality, the capacity to manipulate records for instance, if preserved as a permanent feature of the records, could compromise their integrity as records (i.e., their authenticity). Nor did it consider that, practically speaking, preservation of electronic records in the live system cannot be implemented because media fragility and technology obsolescence necessitate the eventual migration of records out of the original system in which they were created and used. Even before migration, records that are no longer active need to be removed from the live system; otherwise the system will eventually collapse under the weight of the accumulated data. At the same time, NARA's position is flawed in its refusal to grant any validity to the plaintiffs' argument that the technological context in which electronic records are originally created and used contributes to their trustworthiness and value as evidence. Since the presentation elements of an electronic record, such as annotations, colours, original fonts, letterhead, and other special signs, are shaped by the software used to create it, the transfer of that record into a recordkeeping system (whether electronic or paper) could result in the elimination or distortion of these elements. To the extent that the elements contribute to, and influence, the content of the record, their elimination or distortion is relevant to a consideration of their authenticity. While it may not be possible or feasible to maintain electronic records in their original technological context, it is both possible and feasible to preserve evidence of that context by means of annotations to the record or by preserving supplementary documentation about the record's original hardware and software environment. Public Citizen, 12. 104 Though neither Armstrong nor Public Citizen explicitly answers the question whether the techniques of external and internal criticism are adequate for verifying the authenticity and degree of reliability of electronic records, they raise a number of issues concerning what historians and other researchers consider to be the essential characteristics of such records. In the last chapter it was suggested that, in relation to documentary evidence, the epistemically best evidence, for legal purposes, is that which is most complete. In an electronic recordkeeping environment, adherence to a best evidence principle would manifest itself in an obligation of the parties to produce, not only the content of the record, but its original structure and any original annotations, to the extent that these are relevant to an understanding of the record's content. The opposing positions in Public Citizen can be characterized as a debate over what constitutes the epistemically best evidence for research purposes: that which provides the most complete picture of the administrative and documentary context in which an electronic record was created and maintained (NARA's view), or that which provides the most complete picture of the technological context in which an electronic record was created, viewed, annotated, manipulated, and searched during its active life (the plaintiffs' view). Although the Court ultimately accepted the latter view, it is clear that neither position takes adequate account of the other and that the administrative, documentary, and technological context in which electronic records are created and used all contribute to an assessment of their completeness, trustworthiness, and, hence, value as evidence. It is equally clear that further elaboration of both the technological and administrative and documentary context in which electronic records are created, maintained and used is essential to determining their trustworthiness. Thus far, the required elements for record completeness have been defined in relation to specific cases and cannot be generalized to all types of electronic records. Moreover, while they make a number of assertions about what constitutes a complete record, the two court cases described were motivated by a concern to ensure that potentially valuable electronic records were not destroyed without proper authorization, rather than by a desire to characterize in any definitive way what constitutes a reliable and authentic record. Questions concerning the reliability and authenticity of electronic records need to be addressed by a more general and systematic assessment of what constitutes a record, what constitutes a complete record, and what constitutes a reliable and authentic record in an electronic environment. The historian R.J. Morris believes that the economic and social imperatives of bureaucracies, rather than the interests of historians, are likely to drive efforts to define and ensure record reliability and authenticity: Many of the problems anticipated by historians are already being experienced by users and information managers. Like historians those responsible for records within a company or government department want to know who saw what when and who was responsible for ideas and changes. In the initial stages of the shift to the electronic record, there has been a temporary solution to the problems of access, 105 attribution and what is a document. Most users still make valiant efforts to mimic the old technology of paper. W e all need our printer and still file 'hard copy'. In the long term the solution is likely to come from the inherent needs of capitalist and bureaucratic structures. Bureaucracies need to be able to attribute responsibility and capitalism depends upon the verifiability of contracts ...Only when the problems of verifiability and attributability have been solved will the paperless office really be possible within the social structures of capitalism and bureaucracy. 1 1 3 While there is not general agreement on what elements will provide a circumstantial probability of trustworthiness, it is generally agreed that the capacity to capture those elements needs to be built into the design of electronic information systems. Such need is a recurring theme in the archival literature since archivists have been struggling with these issues for more than a decade. In recent years, some archivists have turned to the centuries old discipline of diplomatics to address this need. The next chapter will explore the way in which diplomatic methodology has been adapted to meet the needs of contemporary recordkeeping. In that adaptation, it has been transformed from a tool for retrospectively assessing the trustworthiness of medieval records into a standard for the creation and maintenance of complete, reliable, and authentic electronic records. 113 R.J. Morris, "Back to the Future: Historians and the Electronically Created Record," History and Computing 4 (1992): iv. 106 Chapter 4 Ensuring the Trustworthiness of Electronic Records: Contemporary Archival Diplomatics Diplomatics was born in the seventeenth century as an analytical technique for determining the authenticity of records issued by sovereign authorities in previous centuries. Its primary purpose was to ascertain "the reality of the rights or truthfulness of the facts" 1 contained in such documents. In the nineteenth century, historians adopted diplomatics as a tool of documentary criticism for assessing the authority of medieval records as historical sources. At the end of the twentieth century, archivists have discovered new uses for this old science, based on its potential as a standard for ensuring the trustworthiness of electronic records. The first diplomatist, Mabillon, defined diplomatics as "the establishment of certain and accurate terms and rules by which authentic instruments can be distinguished from spurious [ones]." 2 Modern diplomatists define it more broadly as "the discipline which studies the genesis, forms and transmission of archival documents, and their relationship with the facts represented in them and with their creator, in order to identify, evaluate, and communicate their true nature."3 Inspired by this new definition, Canadian researchers working in the field of archival science have recently undertaken to reinterpret the concepts and principles of diplomatics in the specific context of electronic information systems. The purpose of this endeavor is to identify requirements for creating and maintaining trustworthy records within such environments. This chapter will examine the capacity of diplomatics as a conceptual and methodological tool for building trustworthiness into the design of electronic information systems, as well as the limits to that capacity. It will also address the extent to which it addresses some of the issues raised in earlier chapters, e.g., the nature and boundaries of a record in an electronic environment, and the status of an original in that environment. According to Luciana Duranti, the primary contribution of diplomatics to the understanding of electronic records lies in its analysis of the attributes of a record based on concepts and principles that have evolved over centuries of detailed study of the documentary process. By decontextualizing and universalizing those attributes, the original diplomatists were able to recognize and evaluate records created over several centuries and across different, and, sometimes, bewildering, juridical systems. In the same way, Duranti argues, diplomatics is capable of teaching archivists to recognize and identify electronic records generated within many different and equally bewildering hardware and software environments. The concepts and principles of diplomatics also have the potential to guide the 1 Duranti, "Diplomatics I," (see chap. 1, n. 10), 17. 2 Quoted in C.R. Cheney, The Papacy and England 12th - 14th Centuries (London: Variorum Reprints, 1982), 8. 3 Duranti, "Diplomatics I," 17. 107 development and implementation of standards for creating and maintaining reliable and authentic records generated in contemporary record-keeping environments. In a series of articles written between 1989 and 1992, 4 Duranti examined the principles and concepts developed by diplomatic theorists to evaluate the authenticity of medieval documents to determine whether they could be adapted to deal with records generated by modern bureaucracies. She found that the necessary elements of documentary creation identified by the early diplomatists, i.e., the juridical system5 (the necessary context of document-creation), the act (its determinant cause), the persons (its agents and factors), the procedures (which guide its course), and the documentary form (which pulls together all the relevant elements and shows their relationships) are as relevant to an understanding of the nature of records generated by modern bureaucracies as they were to an understanding of records issued by medieval chanceries. The main difference is that, in modern recordkeeping environments, the same elements manifest themselves in different ways. Over the course of the six articles, Duranti refined, reinterpreted, and extended the classical concepts, and introduced new ones to take into account the variety and complexity of bureaucratic record-keeping environments. 6 The articles laid the groundwork for a subsequent three year research project carried out by faculty in the Master of Archival Studies Program at the University of British Columbia (UBC), and funded by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada. A significant impetus for proposing the research project was provided by the decision in the Armstrong case, which had underscored the need for a more systematic analysis of the nature and boundaries of a record in an electronic environment. 7 The UBC research team comprised Duranti as principal investigator, Terry Eastwood as co-investigator and Heather MacNeil as research assistant.8 The research project was entitled "The Preservation of the Integrity of 4 Duranti. "Diplomatics I," 7-27; "Diplomatics ...(Part II)," Archivaria 29 (Winter 1989-90): 4-17; "Diplomatics ...(Part III)," Archivaria 30 (Summer 1990): 4-20; "Diplomatics ...(Part IV)," Archivaria 31 (Winter 1990-91): 10-25; "Diplomatics ...(Part V)," Archivaria 32 (Summer 1991): 6-24; "Diplomatics ...(Part VI)," Archivaria 33 (Winter 1991-92): 6-24. 5 A juridical system is a social group organized on the basis of a system of rules. It comprises the social group, the organizational principle of the group, and the system of binding rules recognized by the social group. 6 Subsequent to the publication of Duranti's six articles, a joint seminar exploring the application of diplomatics to contemporary records was held by archivists from the Bentley Historical Library of the University of Michigan and by members of the faculty of the Ecole Nationale des Chartes in Paris. The seminar took place in two sessions, the first in Paris 1992, the second in Ann Arbor 1993 and resulted in a series of articles which were published in French in La Gazette des Archives 172 (1996) and in English in The American Archivist 59 (Fall 1996). The articles reflect a consensus on the part of the contributors that the discipline of diplomatics can contribute significantly to an understanding of contemporary recordkeeping environments. 7 Luciana Duranti and Terry Eastwood. "Protecting Electronic Evidence: A Progress Report." Archivi & Computer 5 (1995): 213 8 For my contributions to the UBC research project see supra, chap. 1, fn. 11. The description of the UBC project in this chapter is based on an article I co-authored at the project's conclusion. See 108 Electronic Records," and its goal was to identify and define conceptually the nature of an electronic record and the conditions necessary to ensure its integrity, meaning its reliability and authenticity. The theoretical basis for the research derived from the integration of concepts and principles drawn from diplomatics and archival science.9 The integration resulted in the elaboration of a hybrid discourse that may be characterized as contemporary archival diplomatics. The product of the research was a set of standards and rules for developing and implementing a trustworthy electronic recordkeeping system. The definitions of reliability and authenticity used in the project are consistent with those used in the disciplines of law and history. Reliability means that the record is capable of standing for the facts to which it attests. Authenticity means that the record is what it claims to b e . 1 0 In the research project, each of the two concepts has been associated with specific stages in the life of the record. Reliability is associated with the creation of a record and refers to the completeness of its intellectual form and the degree of control exercised over its creation procedures. Authenticity, on the other hand, is associated with the record's status, mode, and form of transmission, and the manner of its preservation and custody. The research team began its work by articulating a set of general premises concerning the nature of a record in a traditional recordkeeping environment, and the conditions necessary to ensure its reliability and authenticity. Those premises were then interpreted within the framework of electronic information systems. This Luciana Duranti and Heather MacNeil. "The Protection of the Integrity of Electronic Records: An Overview of the UBC Research Project." Archivaria 42 (Fall 1996): 46-67. The analysis of the project in this chapter however, is my own interpretation of it and does not necessarily reflect the views of the research team. The analysis emphasizes aspects of the project considered relevant to my study of the evolution of legal, historical, and diplomatic methods for assessing the trustworthiness of records, and ignores aspects of the project considered irrelevant to my purposes. By analysis, I include the connections drawn to Duranti's earlier work on diplomatics, the discussion of the similarities and differences between the essential characteristics of an electronic record identified by the UBC project and those identified by the plaintiffs in Armstrong and Public Citizen, and the examination of the limits of the methods elaborated by the UBC project for ensuring record trustworthiness. For a more detailed analysis of the research project and its findings see the overview cited above as well as the following: Duranti and Eastwood. "Protecting Electronic Evidence," 213-250; Luciana Duranti, Heather MacNeil and William E. Underwood, "Protecting Electronic Evidence: A Second Progress Report on a Research Study and its Methodology," Archivi & Computer 6 (1996): 37-70; Luciana Duranti and Heather MacNeil. "Protecting Electronic Evidence: A Third Progress Report on a Research Study and its Methodology," Archivi & Computer 6 (1996): 343-404; Heather MacNeil, "Protecting Electronic Evidence: A Final Progress Report on a Research Study and Its Methodology," Archivi & Computer 7 (1997): 22-35. 9 The need to augment diplomatic concepts and principles with those of archival science was based on the fact that, whereas the early diplomatists dealt with isolated documents, contemporary recordkeepers manage aggregations of documents. Archival science is the discipline that studies documents as aggregations. It emerged in the nineteenth century as a body of concepts and methods directed toward the study of records in terms of their documentary and functional relationships and the ways in which they are controlled and communicated. 1 0 For a more detailed discussion of the concepts, see Luciana Duranti, "Reliability and Authenticity: The Concepts and their Implications," Archivaria 39 (Spring 1995): 5-10. 109 i n t e r p r e t a t i o n g e n e r a t e d a n u m b e r of h y p o t h e s e s e x p r e s s i n g t h e n e c e s s a r y and sufficient c o m p o n e n t s of a c o m p l e t e , reliable, a n d a u t h e n t i c e l e c t r o n i c record. T h e h y p o t h e s e s c o n s t i t u t e d t h e c o n c e p t u a l basis for e s t a b l i s h i n g firstly, w h e t h e r a given e l e c t r o n i c s y s t e m c o n t a i n e d r e c o r d s , a n d s e c o n d l y , w h e t h e r s u c h r e c o r d s c o u l d be c o n s i d e r e d reliable a n d authentic. T h e h y p o t h e s e s w e r e s u b s e q u e n t l y translated into d e t a i l e d rules f o r t h e c r e a t i o n a n d m a i n t e n a n c e of reliable a n d a u t h e n t i c r e c o r d s . 1 1 For t h e p u r p o s e s of t h e project, t h e classical archival s c i e n c e definition of r e c o r d w a s a d o p t e d , 1 2 a c c o r d i n g to w h i c h a r e c o r d is a n y d o c u m e n t c r e a t e d ( m e a n i n g m a d e or r e c e i v e d , a n d set a s i d e either f o r action or r e f e r e n c e ) , by a p h y s i c a l or j u r i d i c a l p e r s o n in t h e c o u r s e of practical activity as a n instrument a n d b y - p r o d u c t of it. A n electronic r e c o r d w a s d e f i n e d a s a r e c o r d c r e a t e d in electronic f o r m . T h e r e s e a r c h t e a m w a s t h u s a b l e to d i s t i n g u i s h t h e entity record f r o m other 1 1 That final step was accomplished with the assistance of the U.S. Department of Defense Records Management Task Force, which approached the research team one year into the UBC project for the purpose of collaborating with it. The Task Force's mandate was to develop a new departmental records management system for both electronic and non-electronic records and it was actively seeking a theoretical foundation for its reengineering effort. It contributed to the UBC research methodology its own standard modelling technique, which was useful for the purposes of analysing and graphically representing the diplomatic and archival concepts, and making their meaning comprehensible and relevant to information system designers. The hypotheses developed by the UBC research team provided the concepts to be represented, while the modelling technique provided the means of translating those concepts into activity and entity models that show the relationships of their components from well identified viewpoints and for determined purposes. On the basis of the activities identified in the models, the UBC research team developed detailed rules for creating and handling reliable and authentic records, both electronic and non-electronic.The hypotheses (which are articulated in templates), the activity and entity models, the glossary, and the rules associated with the activities are available for viewing at the UBC research project's web site located at http://www.slais.ubc ca/users/duranti/. For a more detailed explanation of the Department of Defense project, see William E. Underwood, Luciana Duranti, Daryll R. Prescott and Mark Kindle, "IDEF Methodology and the Reengineering of Records Management," in Reengineering in Action: The Quest for World Class Action, Chang Meng Khoong, ed. (London and Singapore: Imperial College Press, an imprint of World Scientific Publishing, 1998); William E. Underwood, "Records Management Research Sponsored by the US Army and the Department of Defense," Archives and Museum Informatics 11 (1997): 261-67; Kenneth Thibodeau and Daryll R. Prescott, "Reengineering Records Management: The U.S. Department of Defense, Records Management Task Force." Archivi & Computer^ (1996): 71-78. 1 2 After some deliberation, the research team decided against adopting the traditional diplomatic definition of a record, according to which a record is "the written testimony or evidence of a juridical fact, produced by a natural or juridical person in the course of practical-administrative activity, and kept for action or reference by that same person or its legitimate successors." This definition reflects a user's retrospective view of the record, a perspective consistent with that of early diplomatists who were looking at discrete, isolated records created in the distant past, whose original context of creation was not self-evident. However, because the perspective adopted by the UBC project was that of the creator who is making, receiving, and setting aside records in a clearly defined context (i.e., within an agency), it was decided that the diplomatic definition was not appropriate. See Luciana Duranti, "The Archival Bond," Archives and Museum Informatics 11 (1997): 214. 110 http://www.slais.ubc entities typically found in electronic information systems, i.e., documents, 1 3 information, 1 4 and d a t a . 1 5 Defining an electronic record was a necessary first step in characterizing it as a distinct species of recorded information. The next step was to identify and define each component of a record in a traditional environment and then interpret it in the context of electronic information systems. Such interpretation provided a basis for recognizing and identifying records created in an electronic system and for establishing their degree of reliability and authenticity. The contemporary diplomatic analysis of the necessary and sufficient components of an electronic record resulted in the identification of eight fundamental components: medium, content, physical form, intellectual form, action, persons, archival bond, and context. The medium is the physical carrier of the content and it is a necessary component because a record does not exist until it is affixed to a medium. With more traditional forms of records, the medium (e.g., parchment, papyrus, paper) and the message are inextricably linked to each other. With electronic records, the medium (e.g., disc, magnetic tape) exists as a separate physical part of the record. This difference does not carry significant implications with respect to the record's reliability and authenticity because, in literate modern societies, the medium is not intended to convey meaning, but simply to provide a physical carrier for the message. Therefore, each record reproduction in which the only component that changes is the medium can be taken to be a complete and effective record identical to the one that it reproduces. The content refers to the message the record is intended to convey. As suggested above, for a record to exist at all, it must be fixed and stable, i.e., its message must be affixed to a medium. By this criterion, an electronic document that consists solely of pointers to data residing in different locations within a database, or in multiple databases (sometimes referred to as a "virtual document"), cannot be considered a record in an electronic environment. This is because, although it is possible to see on a computer monitor the document resulting from the assembly of those data in a meaningful form, this document does not exist as such until its components are actually joined together in an inextricable way, i.e., until its content is explicitly articulated in a fixed form. With traditional records, a document that consists of pointers to information contained in other documentary sources is itself a record (it is a record of the sources to be used to make another record). With electronic documents of the kind described above, the pointers lead to data which - being contained in databases that, by their nature, are dynamic - will change over time. Thus, such a document lacks stability and, within a period of thirty minutes, may be ten different documents. For this kind of document to become a record it A document consists of information affixed to a medium in an objectified and organized way, according to specific rules of representation. 1 4 Information is a meaningful group of data intended for communication, either across space or through time. 1 5 Data are the smallest meaningful recorded facts. 111 must be set aside, meaning that all the information to which the pointers point must be saved into the electronic information system of the record creator. The content of a record is transmitted by means of rules of representation that are embodied in its physical and intellectual form. Physical form is constituted by the formal attributes of the electronic record that, in traditional diplomatics, are called "extrinsic elements" 1 6 and which determine its external appearance. It includes, among other things, script (e.g., type font, format, inserts, colors, etc.), language, special signs (e.g., symbols indicating the existence of attachments or comments, mottoes, emblems, etc.), seals of any kind (including digital signatures, time-stamps, etc.), the configuration and architecture of the electronic operating system, the architecture of the electronic records, and the software. In other words; it includes all those parts of the technological context that determine what the document will look like and how it will be accessed, and that, in electronic systems, are usually invisible to the user. Unlike the medium, the elements of physical form are intended to convey meaning; therefore, any change in them generates a new and different record. The intellectual form of a record comprises the formal attributes that represent and communicate the elements of the action in which the record is involved as well as its immediate documentary and administrative context. In relation to electronic records, intellectual form may be subdivided into three parts: the "information configuration," which refers to the type of representation of the content, whether text, graphic, image, sound, or a combination thereof; the "content articulation," which refers to the elements of the discourse and their arrangement, such as date, salutation, exposition, etc.; and "annotations," which refer to the additions made to the record either in the execution phase of the procedure (e.g., authentication of signatures), in the handling of the matter (e.g., indication of "urgent" or "bring forward," date and name of action taken), in the development of the procedure (e.g., mention of subsequent actions or their outcome), or in the management of the record (e.g., classification code, registry number). Content articulation includes primarily elements that, in traditional documents, are called "intrinsic elements." 1 7 The most important are the elements referring to the persons concurring in the formation of the record, its administrative context, and the action to which it relates. These include the superscription, 1 8 inscription, 1 9 date of document, date of transmission, and subject. With electronic records that are transmitted across electronic boundaries, such elements are found in the header of 1 6 The extrinsic elements of documentary form are discussed in the context of medieval and modern documentary production in Duranti, "Diplomatics (Part V)," 6-10. 1 The intrinsic elements of documentary form are discussed in the context of medieval and modern documentary production in Duranti, "Diplomatics (Part V)," 11-16. 1 8 The superscription is "the mention of the name of the author of the document and/or the action." See ibid., 12. 1 9 The inscription is the mention of "the name, title and address of the addressee of the document and/or action." See ibid., 12. 112 the record, which constitutes most of the record's protocol The core component of any record is the action that gave rise to it. An action is any exercise of will that aims to create, change, maintain or extinguish situations. Accordingly, diplomatics categorizes records in terms of their relationship (or proximity) to actions. 2 1 A dispositive record is one whose written form is required by the juridical system as the essence and substance of the act, i.e., the act comes into existence with the creation of the record (e.g., a written contract, a hospital admission record). A probative record is one whose written form is required by the juridical system as proof that an act has taken place (e.g., a birth, marriage, or death certificate, or a research laboratory notebook). A supporting record is one on which an action is based, but which is not necessary for the action to occur and does.not constitute proof of its occurrence. Supporting records are created in the course of carrying out a specific business activity and are intended to provide support for that activity. Most electronic records have a supporting function with respect to the action in which they take part. For example, a geographical informational system, a database which presents data in a geographic arrangement, typically contains documents, information, and data, rather than records. However, the system as a whole can be considered a record, if its function as a database is to support the decision-making in a specific business activity (when regarded as a unit it possesses all the necessary components of a record). It can also produce documents that, once extracted from it and linked to other records of action, become records, (e.g., a representation of the density of population in a given location that is attached or linked to a report containing recommendations for the development of new housing). A narrative record serves as memory of an action, but does not participate in its formal development: in other words, it is not procedurally linked to an action. Many electronic records have a narrative function, that is, they simply reflect the various and informal motions individuals go through in order to organize themselves to carry out activities and make decisions. An employee's electronic daybook or journal are typical examples of narrative records, because they are individualistic expressions of intent. The agents and factors of the action that originates the record are persons, In diplomatic terms, the protocol is the first of three physical subsections of a document. It "contains the administrative context of the action (i.e., indication of the persons involved, time and place, and subject) and initial formulae". See ibid., 1 1 . 21 Traditional diplomatists identified two categories of record: dispositive and probative, whose written form is required by the juridical system. Though these two categories continue to be relevant, their scope is too narrow to accommodate the diversity of records generated within modern bureaucracies and by electronic information systems. Therefore, in her original series of articles, Duranti identified two further categories of record: supporting and narrative, whose written form is discretionary, rather than required. For further explanation of the medieval and modern diplomatic analysis of actions and the categorization of records in relation to them, see Duranti, "Diplomatics (Part II)," 4-17. 113 i.e., the physical and juridical entities acting by means of the record Traditional diplomatic doctrine maintains that, while many persons may take part in the creation of a record, only three persons are necessary to its existence, that is, the author (i.e., the person having the authority and capacity to issue the record or in whose name or by whose command the record has been issued), the addressee (i.e., the person to whom the record is directed or for whom the record is intended), and the writer (i.e., the person having the authority and capacity to articulate the content of the r e c o r d ) 2 3 With electronic records, it is necessary to identify two other persons: the record's creator (i.e., the person to whose archival f o n d s 2 4 the record in question belongs), and the originator (i.e., the person owning the electronic address or space from which the record is transmitted or in which it is compiled and saved). Traditional diplomatics does not require that the creator of the record or its originator be specifically identified because those persons are usually obvious from the location of the record. With electronic records, however, their identities are not so self-evident. The identification of the creator in connection with each electronic record is necessary to the preservation of its provenance over time. While a record resides in the electronic system in which it is made or received, its creator is easily identifiable as the person having jurisdiction over the system for making, receiving and accumulating records in the conduct of business. But, once the record is taken out of the system, its location on a storage medium and in a given storage facility is no longer meaningful for the purpose of identifying its creator. In an ideal system, the identity of the creator of an electronic record would be revealed by a visual representation such as a logo or a crest which would be attached as an annotation to each record just as, in the past, the stamp of a receiving or registering office was imprinted on each record. The identification of the originator in connection with each electronic record is necessitated by the fact that such person may be different from the author or writer of the record: the issue here relates primarily to responsibility and accountability. For records that are electronically transmitted, the name of the record's originator is found in the header of the electronic mail message, for records that do not cross electronic boundaries, the originator's name is stored either in the data dictionary or in a document profile and corresponds to the name of the owner of the electronic individual space in which the record is saved. It is a fundamental tenet of classical archival theory that records are necessarily composed of both documents and the complex of their relationships. For that reason, the UBC research team identified the archival bond as an essential component of a record. The archival bond is the relationship that links each record to The diplomatic identification of the various persons concurring in the formation of a document in the context of medieval and modern documentary production is discussed in Duranti, "Diplomatics (Part III)," 4-20. 2 3 It is important to point out that these are conceptual persons. In fact, the author and writer of a record may be the same physical person. 2 4 The archival fonds is the whole of the records created by a physical or juridical person by reason of its activity and preserved for action or reference. 114 the previous and subsequent one and to all those which participate in the same activity. It is "originary (i.e., it comes into existence when the record is made or received), necessary (i.e., it exists for every record), and determined (i.e., it is characterized by the purpose of the record)." It is also incremental because, as the connective tissue that joins a record to those surrounding it, it is in continuing formation and growth until the activity is completed. In a traditional recordkeeping environment, the archival bond - which conceptually arises at the moment a record is set aside, and which therefore determines the moment of the record's creation — manifests itself in a number of ways: in the physical arrangement of the records within a file, in annotations made to the record, such as a classification code, which connects it to other records belonging to the same class, and, in the case of incoming and outgoing records, in the registration number assigned to the record, which connects it to previous and subsequent records made or received by the creator and dealing with the same matter. The purpose of classification is to make explicit the relationship between records and the actions in which they participate, to authenticate and perpetuate that relationship and to make sure that as long as the records exist, such relationship will not be altered. The purpose of registration is to provide evidence of the recorded interactions between the creating body and the external world by recording pertinent data concerning each record that enters and exits the agency, e.g., name of sender, sender, name of addressee, date and time of receipt, date and time of transmission, action or matter, handling office, classification code, and action t a k e n . 2 6 As an instrument of documentary control, the protocol register is designed to serve both records management and accountability purposes. At the same time, it is a valuable instrument for capturing documentary context, since it reflects the relations among all the records that have entered and exited the agency. Because the physical arrangement of electronic records is random, the classification and registration of Giorgio Cencetti, "II fondamento teorico della dottrina archivistica," Archivi II, VI (1939): 8, reprinted in Giorgio Cencetti, Scritti archivistici (Rome: II Centro di Ricerca editore, 1970), 39. Jenkinson uses the term "interrelatedness." See Hilary Jenkinson, "Introductory," in Public Record Office, Guide to the Public Records, Part I (London: Public Record Office, 1949), 2. 2 6 During the middle ages, registration was an important aspect of papal and royal chancery procedures. It involved the copying of important outgoing documents into a book called a register. Registers served as memory of acts and decisions taken and could be referred to if necessary to check precedents and to establish the authenticity of documents issued by chanceries. For the nature and use of registers in papal and royal chanceries see Maria Luisa Ambrosini and Mary Willis, The Secret Archives of the Vatican (Boston: Little Brown, 1969), passim; Robert I. Burns, Society and Documentation in Crusader Valencia, vol. 1 of Diplomatarium of the Crusader Kingdom of Valencia: The Registered Charters of Its Conqueror, Jaume I, 1257-1276 (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1985), 48-47; Alain de Bouard, Manuel de diplomatique frangaise et pontificate, vol. 1 (Paris: A. Picard, 1929), 190-211; Arthur Giry, Manuel de Diplomatique (New York: Burt Franklin, 1893), 687-88, 752- 54; Poole, Lectures on the History of the Papal Chancery (see chap. 1, n. 31), 123-36. The practice of registration continues to this day in most European countries and consists of making an entry into a register that identifies salient data concerning the administrative and documentary context of every incoming and outgoing document. In Italy, the registers are called "protocol" registers because the data recorded is drawn from the top portion of the record, i.e., its protocol. An illustration of the data elements captured in a modem protocol register is provided in Elio Lodolini, Archivistica: Phncipie problemi, 4 t h ed. (Milano: Franco Angeli, 1987), 92-93. 115 them are essential methods for making explicit the archival bond. Since such methods are not typical features of electronic information systems, they need to be defined as requirements, codified in administrative procedures, and embedded within the system as part of its workflow rules. 2 7 The final component of a record is its context, which refers to the framework in which the action (in which the record participates) takes place. The research team identified four contexts it considered relevant to non-electronic and electronic records alike: the juridical-administrative context (i.e., the legal and organizational system in which the creating body belongs), the provenancial context (i.e., the creating body, its mandate, structure, and functions), the procedural context (i.e., the procedure in the course of which the record is generated); and the documentary context (i.e., the internal structure of the archival fonds of which the record forms a part). This last context represents the totality of all the archival bonds existing within a creator's fonds. While it is clearly impossible for any single record to fully communicate these contexts, it is possible to provide clues and pointers to them through the other identified components. For example, a pointer to the record's provenancial context is the name of the creator (identified under persons); an annotation, such as the classification code (identified under archival bond), is a kind of shorthand for the record's administrative, procedural and documentary context. A conspicuous omission from the research team's categories is the technological context of an electronic record. From the point of view of the court in both Armstrong and Public Citizen, the technological context of an electronic record (understood as the original hardware and software environment in which an electronic mail message, word processing record, or spreadsheet was generated, including its manipulatability, searchability, and auditability) must be captured and preserved because it contributes essential structural and contextual data to such record, and uniquely defines it. The UBC research team chose not to treat technological context as a unique context for two reasons: first, if technological context refers to the technology generating determined groups of records, this conditions and> penetrates their physical form and is, therefore, from a diplomatic perspective, a component of the records rather than their context. For example, the architecture of electronic records and of their operating system, the word processing or other software used to create them, and the method by which they are encoded, are all attributes of their physical form. Secondly, treating the technological context of electronic records creation as something separate and distinct from the juridical-administrative, provenancial, procedural, and documentary contexts of its creation, is inconsistent with the methodology adopted by the research project. A typical technological context of The UBC research team has articulated the procedural rules for classifying and registering records in an electronic system. See rules A121 (create classification scheme), A131 (I) (establish procedures for registration), under "Rules for Activities Involved in Manage Archival Framework;" and A23 (classify records), and A24 (register records), under Rules for Activities Involved in Create Records, Handle Records, and Preserve Records," located at the UBC research project's web site. 116 record creation is a database that is shared by more than one agency. The technological context (the shared database) implies that the records within the database are also shared. From the perspective of contemporary diplomatics, however, "shared electronic records" do not exist. While a "shared database" contains documents, information, or data accessible to many persons, that database is the responsibility of only one juridical person (which may be a consortium of persons), and each person who uses the documents, information or data contained in that shared database in the course of its own activity generates with them, in its own electronic system, its own electronic records. For those reasons, the research team determined that a separate category for technological context was both unnecessary and, potentially, misleading. On the basis of its identification of the components of a record in a traditional environment and their interpretation within the framework of electronic information systems, the research team found that electronic records possess essentially the same components as traditional records. However, like the litigants in both Armstrong and Public Citizen, the team found that, with electronic records, those components are not inextricably joined to one another as they are in traditional records. Instead, they are stored and managed separately as metadata, which are "data describing data and data systems; that is, the structure of databases, their characteristics, locale, and usage." 2 8 The research team classified metadata into two main categories. The first category, metadata of the electronic system, consists of data that describe the operating system, the program generating the records, the physical location of the records in the electronic system, which are stored in the system's data directory, and the value of each data element, which is stored in the system's data dictionary. The second category, metadata of the records, on the other hand, consists of data that place the record within its documentary and administrative context at the moment of its creation, e.g., the name of the sender, receiver, and creator. In some electronic systems, such data may be assembled into a document profile 2 9 attached to the record; in others, they are stored in the data dictionary. The team determined that an adapted version of the document profile (renamed record profile), constituted the best means of bringing together the components of a record and, specifically, those components that establish the record's administrative and documentary context. A record profile is an electronic form that is generated when the order is given to the system to send or to save an electronic record. It is synonymous with the moment of setting aside a record, thereby establishing its moment of creation. Its purpose is to uniquely identify a Lewis J. Bellardo and Lynn Lady Bellardo, A Glossary for Archivists, Manuscript Curators and Records Managers (Chicago: Society of American Archivists, 1992), s.v. "metadata". 2 9 For an examination of the role of the document profile in open document exchange standards and a comparison of the attributes of this type of document profile with the intrinsic and extrinsic elements of form identified by diplomatics, see Anthony Gregson, "Records Management Attributes in International Open Document Exchange Standards," (Master of Archival Studies thesis, University of British Columbia, 1995). 117 record and place it in relation to other records belonging in the same aggregation. The profile is considered an annotation to the record and is, therefore, inextricably linked to it for as long as the record exists. Depending on whether a record is made or received, the profile would include the following elements: 3 0 registration number date of receipt time of receipt date of transmission time of transmission date of record archival date (date on which the record becomes part of a dossier or class) registration number of sending office originator's name originator's address author's name author's address writer's name writer's address action or matter number of attachments type of file of attachment (e.g., WordPerfect, Microsoft Word, Excel, MIME encoded) medium handling office action taken addressee's name addressee's address receiver's name receiver's address class code dossier identifier record item identifier mode of transmission status of transmission (i.e., original, draft, copy) draft number The record profile contains a more comprehensive list of contextual elements and, thus, reveals more of the record's administrative, procedural, and documentary context than the one articulated by NARA in the Public Citizen case, which limited itself to the identification of the office of origin, file classification code, key words for retrieval, addressee, author, signer, date and security classification, in the case of word processing records; and to the names of sender and recipients and dates of 30 The procedural rules developed by the research team for the creation of a record profile may be found at rules A131(h), (i), (j), 00. under "Rules for Activities Involved in Manage Archival Framework," located at the research project's web site. Some of these fields would be filled in by the system, others by the author or writer, and others still would be filled in by the record office. The fact that all the fields must be included on the form does not mean that every field must be filled in for every record made or received. Only the profiles of the records for which maximum reliability-and authenticity are required would have all the fields filled in. 118 transmission or receipt, in the case of electronic mail messages, The research team's identification of the components of a record and the way in which they manifest themselves in an electronic system provided a basis on which to recognize, capture, and stabilize records created within dynamic electronic information systems. It also provided a foundation on which to build methods for establishing the reliability and authenticity of such records. Before the research team considered the specific concepts and methods associated with record reliability and authenticity, however, it was necessary to first identify and elaborate the overarching procedural framework in which those concepts and methods would be situated. In other words, the research team had to identify the salient features of an agency-wide electronic recordkeeping system capable of creating and maintaining reliable and authentic records. The need for such identification was established in Public Citizen. In that case, NARA maintained that the reason agencies were printing electronic records to paper was simply because their electronic systems lacked the capacity to maintain records in their administrative and documentary context and to implement the procedural controls necessary to ensure their reliability and authenticity. Agencies, therefore, had little choice but to print the electronic records out and incorporate them into a traditional paper recordkeeping system that met those requirements. Though it was not formulated with the Public Citizen case in mind, the procedural framework articulated by the UBC research team is an attempt to incorporate agency-wide recordkeeping requirements into the design of electronic information systems. The requirements identified by the research team are intended to preserve not only the administrative context of electronic records creation demanded by NARA, but, also, certain aspects of the technological context demanded by the plaintiffs in the same case. The research team decided an essential first step to ensure the reliability and authenticity of electronic records was to embed procedural rules for creating, handling, and maintaining such records in an agency-wide records system, and to integrate documentary procedures with business processes. The records system, as defined for the purposes of the project, comprises the creator's records, along with the procedural rules of its recordkeeping and record-preservation systems. Both systems are controlled by the creator's records management function. The purpose of the recordkeeping and record-preservation system 3 1 is to control the creation, handling, and maintenance of all the active and semi-active records of an agency, both electronic and non-electronic, with the integrated control of all the records taking place within the electronic system. The need for integrated control is mandated by the fact that, in most bureaucracies, a significant percentage of records continue to be created and maintained in non-electronic form as textual, graphic, The recordkeeping system comprises a set of rules governing the making, receiving, setting aside, and handling of active and semi-active records in the usual and ordinary course of the creator's affairs, and the tools and mechanisms used to implement them. The record-preservation system is a set of rules governing the intellectual and physical maintenance by the creator of semi-active records, and the tools and mechanisms necessary to implement them. Although semi-active records are no longer needed for action, they are still required for purposes of reference. 119 cartographic, and architectural records. To maintain the archival bond between records that are created to carry out the same activity but that are generated and/or stored on different media in different physical locations, it is necessary to connect those records intellectually.3 2 Control over the electronic records is accomplished by establishing record management domains within the electronic system that define the boundaries of individual space, (corresponding to the jurisdiction of the officer to whom it is assigned by the agency); group space (corresponding to the jurisdiction of the office, program, team, committee, working group, etc., to which a specific competence, charge, responsibility, task, etc., has been assigned by the agency); and general space (corresponding to the jurisdiction of the records office, which is responsible for the records system of the agency). The procedural rules define, on the basis of these boundaries, the space in which records can be made, received, revised, modified or otherwise altered; the space in which they can be individually destroyed; the space in which they will be classified and registered; the space in which originals are stored; the space in which specific elements of the record profile must be filled in; the space in which the retention schedule is implemented; the right of access to each space; and the way in which records will move inside and outside the agency. For non-electronic records, a similar degree of control is established by assigning exclusive competence to the records office for the classification, profiling, registration (when applicable), and consignment to the central records system (the non-electronic equivalent of the general space) of all incoming, outgoing, and internal non-electronic records. The recordkeeping and record-preservation system establishes agency-wide control over the creation and handling of both electronic and non-electronic records. The integration of business processes and documentary procedures advocated by the research team is intended to strengthen this control, thereby enhancing reliability, by embedding it within specific business processes. As part of its analysis of the procedures governing medieval documentary production, traditional diplomatic doctrine posited a distinction between the "moment of action" and the "moment of documentation" and identified two distinct procedures, with distinct phases, in relation to each of these moments. In her original series of articles exploring diplomatics, Duranti observed that the most obvious fact which differentiates the genesis of medieval documents from that of modem documents ...[is that] [e]ach medieval document contained the whole transaction generating it, and its creation, as the apex of the transaction, was either sequential to it The research team has attempted to accomplish this by instituting procedures for creating an electronic record profile for every non-electronic record that is consigned to the central records system as well as for every electronic record that is set aside, and by establishing a repository of those record profiles. The procedural rules for showing the connection among active records in all media which belong in the same aggregation may be found at A131(q), under "Rules for Activities Involved in Manage Archival Framework," located at the research project's web site. 120 (probative documents) or parallel (dispositive documents), that is, perfectly distinguishable from the transaction as an exercise of will. On the contrary, each modern document incorporates only one phase of the transaction, or even less, and its creation, as a means of carrying out the transaction, is integrated in each of the phases through which the transaction develops, and is not distinguishable from the action of the will. This fact invalidates the definition of the moment of the action and the moment of documentation as two separate sets of routines, or two distinct procedures. They are still two conceptually distinct moments ...[however] they are considered integral parts of one procedure. 3 3 Integrating business and documentary procedures constitutes the research project's adaptation of the traditional diplomatic concepts relating to procedures and consists of the following steps: identifying all the business procedures within each agency function; for each procedure within each function, determining the category into which it f i t s , 3 4 i.e., whether the procedure is constitutive, 3 5 executive, 3 6 instrumental 3 7 o r organizational; 3 8 breaking the procedure down into six phases 3 9 , i.e., initiative,4 0 inquiry,4 1 consultation, 4 2 deliberation, 4 3 deliberation control, 4 4 and execution; 4 5 determining, for each phase of each procedure, its component actions, the records that must be used in relation to each action; the records that must be made, received, and handled in the course of each action 4 6 and by whom; the manner in which the records are to be classified, audited, and disposed; their level of confidentiality; and the specific methods for ensuring their reliability and authenticity. The integration of business and documentary procedures results in a description of Duranti, "Diplomatics (Part IV)," 14. 3 4 The definitions of the various categories of procedures that follow are from ibid., 19. 3 5 Constitutive procedures are those procedures which create, extinguish or modify the exercise of power of the addressee. Constitutive procedures may be categorized as procedures of concession, of limitation, or of authorization, and their purpose is to fulfill the agency's mandate. 3 6 Executive procedures are those procedures which allow for the regular transaction of affairs according to rules established by a different authority, e.g., personnel, finances. 3 7 Instrumental procedures are those procedures which are connected to the expression of opinions and advice. Organizational procedures are those procedures, the purpose of which is to establish organizational structure and internal procedures and to maintain, modify or extinguish them. 3 9 The definitions of the diplomatic phases of a procedure that follow are from ibid., 14-19. 4 0 The initiative phase comprises those acts that start the mechanism of the procedure. 4 1 The inquiry phase comprises the collection of the elements necessary to evaluate the situation. 4 2 The consultation phase comprises the collection of opinions and advice after the relevant information has been assembled. 4 3 The deliberation phase is constituted by the decision-making. 4 4 The deliberation control phase consists of the control exercised by a person different from those making the decision on the substance and/or form of the deliberation. 4 5 The execution phase consists of all the actions that give a formal character to the deliberation, such as the validation, communication, notification, or publication of the related record. 4 6 The records are identified, not only on the basis of their intellectual form, but, also, on the basis of their function with respect to the action to which they relate (whether dispositive, probative, supporting, or narrative). 121 the records associated with each phase of each procedure and the specific requirements linked to them in relation to access privileges, classification, registration, authentication, auditing, and so on. Once it had established the procedural framework for creating and maintaining reliable and authentic records on an agency-wide basis, the research team analyzed the more specific concepts and methods associated with reliability and authenticity respectively. As mentioned at the beginning of this chapter, reliability refers to the ability of records to stand for the facts they are about. From the point of view of diplomatics, it depends upon two factors: the degree of completeness of the record's form and the degree of control exercised over its procedure of creation. The completeness of the form of the record refers to the fact that the record possesses all the elements of intellectual form necessary for it to be capable of generating consequences. Traditionally, no record is considered complete if its intellectual form does not contain the date of the record's creation, which expresses the relationship between its author and the act it documents, and the signature, which assigns responsibility for the record and its content. With electronic records, the date given to the record by its author does not make it complete: the date and time of transmission to either an external or internal addressee, or the date and time of transmission to the dossier or class to which the record belongs are also necessary. Moreover, because a handwritten or typewritten signature can be attached to an electronic record by anyone, it cannot serve its traditional function and therefore cannot contribute to the record's completeness. Instead, the function of the signature is accomplished, either by the name contained in the header of electronic mail messages, or in the profile of other record types (and which is automatically assigned by the system), and/or by electronic seals or signatures. An electronic signature is "a computer data compilation of any symbol or series of symbols executed, adopted, or authorized by an individual to be the legally binding equivalent of the individual's handwritten signature." A special type of electronic signature is a digital signature, which is "an electronic signature based upon cryptographic methods of originator authentication, computed by using a set of rules and a set of parameters such that the identity of the signer and the integrity of the data can be verified." 4 7 The purpose of a digital signature is to ensure that a particular data message originated from a particular person (thereby fulfilling its authentication function); that the data message has not been altered since its creation and transfer (thereby fulfilling its verification of integrity function); and that the recipient cannot alter the message received (thereby fulfilling its non-repudiation function)." 4 8 Definitions taken from [U.S.] Department of Health and Human Services. Food and Drug Adminstration, 21 CFR Part 11, "Electronic Records; Electronic Signatures; Final Rule; Electronic Submissions; Establishment of Public Docket; Notice," March 20, 1997,13465. 48 United Nations Commission on International Trade Law [UNCITRAL], Report of the Working Group on Its 30th Session, Vienna, 26 February - 8 March 1996, A/CN.9/421 [1996], 13. The UNCITRAL considered but, ultimately, chose not to require digital signature technology as a standard in its Model Law on Electronic Commerce. See ibid., 14. The conclusion of UNCITRAL mirrors the one reached by the ULCC in drafting its uniform evidence act for electronic records. Since digital signature 122 The date and signature constitute necessary, but not sufficient, elements of a complete electronic record. On the basis of its analysis, the research team determined that for an electronic record to be capable of generating consequences it should possess the following elements of intellectual form: date (time and place of creation, transmission, and receipt), persons (author, addressee, originator, writer, creator), action or matter (title or subject), classification code, and any other element required by the creator's procedures and/or juridical system. The diplomatic conception of completeness is somewhat different from the one implied by the plaintiffs in Armstrong and Public Citizen. There, completeness was linked to the original functionality of the electronic system in which the record was created. However, certain aspects of that functionality (e.g., a system's auditability), while relevant to an assessment of record reliability and authenticity, are part of the metadata of the system as a whole rather than an integral part of the record's intellectual form. Other aspects are either irrelevant to a consideration of record reliability or authenticity (e.g., the searchability of the system, which relates purely to record retrieval), or actually detrimental to such consideration (e.g., the manipulatability of the system which, potentially, undermines record authenticity). Nor has the research team specifically identified a record's physical form as an essential element of a complete electronic record, notwithstanding its centrality to the plaintiffs' arguments in both Armstrong and Public Citizen. Physical form refers to the formal attributes of a record that shape its external appearance and that, in electronic systems, is largely determined by system software. The research team maintained that, although it is an essential component of an electronic record, the physical form of any given type of electronic record (i.e., its status as a particular kind of spreadsheet, word-processing record, or electronic mail message and the presence of special features, such as colors, emblems, and other special signs), will be self-evident so long as the record resides in the electronic records system (as that system has been described by the research team) and therefore its identification does not need to be specified. The need to preserve an electronic record's original physical form, or evidence of it, only becomes an issue at the point at which the record is copied or migrated and, therefore, is more appropriately addressed in the technologies serve to ensure the integrity of data, the ULCC observed, "their use may be relevant as foundation evidence or in the event that the integrity or weight of the electronic record is challenged." However, since the technologies are continuing to evolve, it was decided that would be premature to make reference to digital signature technology as a minimum standard for the purpose of creating a statutory presumption. "Uniform Electronic Evidence Act: Consultation Paper," 11 (see chap. 2, n. 115). However, in electronic contracting law and a number of other areas of the substantive law, digital signatures, increasingly, are becoming the standard method of ensuring the reliability and authenticity of electronic records. See, for example, [U.S.] Dept. of Health and Human Services. 21 CFR Part 11, 13430-13466; European Commission Directorate-General XIII, "Towards a European Framework for Digital Signatures and Encryption: Communication from the Commission to the European Parliament, the Council, the Economic and Social Committee and the Committee of the Regions Ensuring Security and Trust in Electronic Communication," COM (97) 503 [1997]; Bernard D. Reams, Jr., Electronic Contracting Law: EDI and Business Transactions, 1996-1997 edition (New York: Clark, Boardman, Callaghan, 1997). 123 context of preserving a record's authenticity rather than in the context of establishing its reliability. Reliability is also determined in relation to a record's procedure of creation, which refers to the body of rules governing the making, receiving and setting aside of records. Some of these rules refer to record makers by establishing who is competent for creating, modifying, and annotating records, others refer to how records will be handled in the course of their compilation, and others still refer to how records will be routed and filed. According to Duranti, "[t]he more rigorous and detailed the rules, the more established the routine, the more reliable the records resulting from their application will b e . " 4 9 The research team identified two kinds of methods in electronic information systems for ensuring that such rules are respected and that the reliability of record makers is ensured. The first kind is directed toward prevention, and includes three main methods. One method consists of embedding access privileges within the system. Conferring access privileges involves assigning to each person who has access to the electronic system, on the basis of his or her specific competence, 5 0 the authority to compile, classify, annotate, read, retrieve, transfer, and/or destroy only specific groups of records. The rules governing access privileges elaborated by the research team prohibit the modification of records once they have been classified; assign access privileges to officers for each class of records on the basis of their competence; allow the officer that creates the records unrestricted access to them; allow the handling officer and the records office to annotate records; allow access to the records by the records office for the purpose of classification; and give the records office exclusive authority to access the records for purposes of transfer or destruction. 5 1 A second method consists of embedding "workflow r u l e s " 5 2 in the system. In accordance with those rules, the system permits only the person competent for each action to access the specific records needed to carry out that action and solicits the making of the appropriate record at the proper time in the automatic development of the procedure. The embedding of those rules is made possible by the integration of business and documentary procedures described above. A third method consists of limiting physical access to the technology or to parts of it by means of magnetic cards, passwords, fingerprints, and so on. The other kind is directed toward verification and includes one primary method. It consists of designing within the electronic system an "audit trail," which is " a Duranti, "Reliability and Authenticity," 6 5 0 Competence is a sphere of functional responsibility entrusted to an office. 5 1 The procedural rules for defining access privileges may be found at A123 under "Rules for Activities Involved in Manage Archival Framework," located at the research project's web site. 5 2 A demonstration prototype based on an automated work flow process has been developed by the National Archives of Canada. For a description of the prototype, see John McDonald, "Towards Automated Record Keeping, Interfaces for the Capture of Records of Business Processes," Archives and Museum Informatics 11 (1997): 277-85. 124 a means of recording all the interactions with records within the system so that any access to the system can be documented as it occurs, whether it is a modification made to a record, a deletion, an addition or a simple viewing of a r e c o r d . 5 3 From a diplomatic perspective, reliability and the methods for guaranteeing it . are linked to record creation. Authenticity is linked, on the other hand, to the record's mode, form and state of transmission, and to the manner of its preservation and custody. Authenticity is protected through the adoption of methods that ensure that the record is not manipulated, altered, or otherwise falsified after its creation and that it is precisely as reliable as it was when first created. It follows that an authentic electronic record is one that is transmitted in a secure way, whose state of transmission can be ascertained, that is preserved in a secure way, and whose provenance can be verified. Methods of ensuring the security of an electronic record's transmission include maintaining an audit trail of every transmission, encrypting records, and establishing the status of transmission of each record. In diplomatic terms, the mode of transmission of a record is the method by which a record is communicated over space or time. The more secure the method of transmission, the higher the probability that the record received is what it purports to be. The form of transmission of a record is the physical and intellectual form that the record has when the addressee receives it. Traditionally, authenticity has been ensured by maintaining a record in the same form through transmission, both across space and through time. In relation to transmission, the main difference between non-electronic and electronic records resides in the state of transmission54 The state of transmission of a record refers to its degree of development and authority when it is set aside; in other words, its status as a draft, copy, or original. A draft is a temporary compilation of a document intended for correction; drafts may be in various stages of completion. A copy is a reproduction of a record made either from an original, a draft or another copy. It may take the form of an authentic copy, 5 5 an imitative copy, 5 6 a copy in the form of an original 5 7 a simple copy, 5 8 a vidimus, 5 9 or a conformed c o p y . 6 0 An The procedural rules for auditing may be found at A131 (t), under "Rules for Activities Involved in Manage Archival Framework," located at the research project's web site. As mentioned in the introduction to the dissertation, the Somalia Inquiry identified the absence of audit procedures and the lack of system audits to ensure that the National Defence Operations Centre (NDOC) data logs were being properly maintained as significant failures of the electronic system. See supra., intra., 3. 5 4 The state of transmission of a record in the context of medieval and modern documentary production is discussed in Duranti, "Diplomatics I," 18-21. 5 An authentic copy is "a copy certified by officials authorized to execute such a function, so as to render it legally admissible in evidence." See ibid., 2 1 . 5 6 An imitative copy "reproduces, completely or partially, not only the content but also the forms, including the external ones (layout, script, special signs, medium and so on), of the original [record]." See ibid., 2 0 - 2 1 . 5 7 A copy in the form of an original occurs when "two originals of the same document, addressed to the same person and having the same date, are sent to that person in two subsequent deliveries." In such a case, "the oldest document is considered to be the original, the second is qualified as a copy 125 original is the first complete and effective record. For a record to be original, it must be complete (i.e., its form must be the one intended by its author and/or required by the juridical system), primitive (i.e., it must be the first to be produced in its complete form), and effective (i.e., it must be capable of reaching the effects for which it was produced). With electronic records, the state of transmission is assessed in relation to their routing in the electronic system. Any record that is neither transmitted to an addressee nor consigned to the general space of the electronic records system, but that is saved in the electronic space in which it is made, is considered a draft because it is incomplete. This is because the act of transmitting a record across either external or internal electronic boundaries necessarily adds components to the record which make it complete (e.g., the date of transmission and the name of the originator and/or author). Any record that is transmitted across electronic boundaries is received at the other end as an original, but it is saved in the space of the originator as a final draft because it is not capable of reaching its purpose and therefore lacks effectiveness. Each time a person retrieves a record from the general space, he or she has a view of the original-in the case of a record received or an internal record-or of the last d r a f t - i n the case of a record sent. If the person copies the record to his or her own electronic space, the result is an imitative copy rather than a copy in the form of original, because some of the record's metadata (i.e., the data that place the record within its documentary and administrative context at the moment of its creation) will change. Each time a person forwards a record to another person, he or she creates an insert of the type of a vidimus, and so on. All of this suggests that, with electronic records, the state of transmission is assessed on the basis of the way in which electronic transmission affects the physical and intellectual form of the records. The analysis also demonstrates that it is possible to identify an original record in an electronic environment despite the fact that courts and commentators have all but abandoned the concept on the grounds that such designation is difficult and artificial. The law's position is understandable given the difficulty of establishing the state of transmission retrospectively if the system is not designed to preserve that information. On the other hand, an electronic system can be designed to specify the record's status as an original, draft, or copy, in the form of an original." Ibid., 19. While it is as complete and effective as the original, it lacks the quality of primitiveness that the original has. A simple copy "is constituted by the mere transcription of the content of the original." Ibid., 21. 5 9 A vidimus falls within the category of an authentic copy and takes the form of an insert, i.e., a document "entirely quoted (if textual) or reported (if visual, like maps) in subsequent original documents in order to renew [its] effects. ...An authentic copy in general and a vidimus in particular, only guarantees the conformity of the copy to the original text." Ibid, 21, n. 38 and 39. 6 0 A conformed copy is "an exact copy of a document on which has been written explanation of things that could not or were not copied, e.g., written signature may be replaced on conformed copy with notation that it was signed by the person whose signature appears on the original." Black's Law Dictionary, 5 t h ed., s.v. "conformed copy." 126 making such identification relatively straightforward. Ensuring the authenticity of electronic records in the manner of their preservation and custody requires the preservation of semi-active records 6 2 in a climactically suitable and physically secure environment, well-documented procedures for the reproduction and migration of both active and semi-active records, 6 3 and an uninterrupted line of physical custody. In relation to preservation and custody, the main difference between electronic records and traditional records is that the latter are kept authentic by maintaining them in the same form and state of transmission in which they were when made or received and set aside, while the former are kept authentic by continuous copying and periodic migration. All media designed to carry magnetically or optically affixed signals have limited longevity, due to the deterioration of the material and, more significantly, the obsolescence of the technology required to read it. An electronic record is unlikely to survive 6 4 for more than a decade in its original form and all records generated in the obsolescent environment must be copied or migrated to the new one, otherwise they will become inaccessible and, for all intents and purposes, non-existent. Copying and migration have different consequences for a record's authenticity. Because copying is a complete reproduction of both the content and formal elements of the records (e.g., microfilming, or transferring the same strings of bits from one magnetic tape to another), the resulting records may be considered faithful reproductions of the original records' physical and intellectual form. Migration, 6 5 on the other hand, is a reproduction of the content of the record, with changes in configuration and structure (e.g., imaging of analog records, or transferring of hypertext records from one database to another having a different configuration). While, after migration, the resulting records may look like the ones The procedural rules elaborated by the UBC research team for establishing the state of transmission of records may be found at A131(m), under "Rules for Activities Involved in Manage Archival Framework," located at the research project's web site. 6 2 Because the UBC project focused on the methods of ensuring trustworthiness from the point of view of the records creator, their identification related to the activities undertaken while the records are still needed by the creator, i.e., during their active and semi-active life. 6 3 The procedural rules elaborated by the research team for copying and migrating active and semi- active electronic records may be found at A131(n), (p), (u), (v), under "Rules for Activities Involved in Manage Archival Framework," and at A33 and A43, under "Rules for Activities Involved in Create Records, Handle Records, and Preserve Records," located at the research project's web site. 6 4 Survival means not only the survival of an electronic record's physical existence, but includes the survival of its readability and intelligibility. 6 5 In Preserving Digital Information: Report of the Task Force on Archiving of Digital Information (Washington: The Commission on Preservation and Access and the Research Libraries Group, 1996), 5, migration is defined as "the periodic transfer of digital materials from one hardware/software configuration to another, or from one generation of computer technology to a subsequent generation." For a contrasting definition of migration as well as an extensive discussion of the consequences of copying, reformatting, conversion, and migration on the preservation of an electronic record's readability, intelligibility, and authenticity, see Charles M. Dollar, Authentic Electronic Records: Strategies for Long-Terni Access (Chicago: Cohassets Associates, 1998). Dollar's discussion of authenticity draws on the diplomatic analysis of the concept found in Duranti's Archivaria articles and the UBC project findings. 127 that have been migrated, their physical form has substantially changed, with loss of data on the one hand, and the addition of new data on the other hand. This fact underlines the need for self-authenticating and clearly documented processes of reproduction and migration, as well as an uninterrupted line of physical custody. 6 6 If the records are still needed by the record creator for the usual and ordinary conduct of its business, the continuing reliance of the creator on the products of the migration process in itself authenticates them. However, once the records are no longer needed by the records creator to conduct its business, the migration process will need to be carried out by a neutral party and its products verified and authenticated: the resulting records would thus become authentic copies of the obsolescent records. Strictly speaking, issues relating to the long-term preservation of authentic inactive electronic records did not fall within the scope of the UBC research project. However, on the basis of its analysis, the research team drew the preliminary conclusion that the integrity of electronic records is likely best preserved over the long term by entrusting the creating body with primary responsibility for their reliability and authenticity while they are needed for business purposes (i.e., during their active and semi-active life), and a separate preserving body with responsibility for their authenticity over the long term (i.e., once they are inactive). The conclusion was based on the team's belief that the custody of inactive electronic records by a trusted recordkeeper is a necessary precondition for safeguarding their authenticity in general and the integrity of the authentication procedures in particular. The concept of a trusted recordkeeper draws on both contemporary and ancient practice. Today, it is usually discussed in the context of electronic contracting law, where it refers to an entity who is entrusted with independently maintaining the records of Electronic Data Interchange (EDI) partners. The reason for having a trusted third party recordkeeper is to increase the probability that records of an EDI transaction will be accepted in court as evidence. To be considered a trusted recordkeeper, the entity must demonstrate, among other things, that it has no reason to alter retained records itself; that it has no interest in allowing others to alter records; and that it is capable of implementing security procedures to a degree that meets the necessary standards of reliability and authenticity. 6 7 The instrumental purpose served by a third party recordkeeper in electronic contracting is analogous to that served by archives in the preservation of inactive 6 6 The significance of custody to the authenticity of older records is reflected In the U.S. Federal Rules of Evidence, where the ancient documents rule has been extended to electronic records. The Advisory Committee's notes explain that, since the importance of appearance diminishes in this situation (because an unsuspicious appearance will certainly be deceptive in the case of electronic records), the importance of custody increases correspondingly. See Wigmore on Evidence, (Chadbourn rev., 1978), vol. 7, para. 2129, n. 1, example 7. 7 Bernard D. Reams Jr., L.J. Kutten and Allen E. Strehler, Electronic Contracting Law: EDI and Business Transactions, 1992-93 Edition (New York: Clark, Boardman, Callaghan, 1994), 37. 128 records. As pointed out in Chapter 1, such role dates back to Roman antiquity when citizens would deposit private records in the Tabularium for the express purpose of rendering them authentic. As a trusted keeper of records ancient archival institutions sustained and lent credibility to contractual relationships between citizens. It also lent credibility to the implicit social contract between citizens and the state by preserving the records of the state's past actions on the basis of which the state could be held to account. This instrumental purpose, arguably, is still valid today and may be accomplished by the routine transfer of inactive records from the creating body to an autonomous archival body. In a contemporary context, such body would be an autonomous office within an agency (if it maintains its own historical records, as is usually the case with private bodies) or an external body (if records are routinely transferred to a central archival depository, as is usually the case with public bodies). It is accepted, both as a matter of law and of general principle, that records that are still needed by their creator possess a circumstantial probability of trustworthiness. Once the records are no longer being created and maintained in order to carry out administrative actions, however, this inference of trustworthiness is no longer supportable because the motivation to maintain accurate records ceases to be compelling. In fact, record creators likely look at their own inactive records in much the same way that historians and traditional diplomatists look at records, that is, retrospectively, as evidence of past actions, and with the benefit of hindsight. The difference is that, unlike the historian or diplomatist, the records creator has been intimately involved in those past actions. If the records show those actions in an unfavorable light, the fear of exposure to negative criticism creates a powerful motivation to alter or even destroy the records. The argument for archival custody has particular resonance for the preservation of the authenticity of public records. Because public records are preserved not only to understand the past but also to hold it to account, there is an inherent conflict of interest in allowing a public agency to retain responsibility for the long term preservation of its own records. 6 8 Even if records are not, in fact, The potential conflict of interest is illustrated in a 1996 incident concerning the White House "speech archives." The White House webmaster had created and made available to the public an "archives" of White House speeches. In May 1996, a television show in Michigan, which was attempting to illustrate the use of this archives in a program, found that the archives had disappeared from the Web. The T.V. reporter's concern "was that someone in the White House was afraid that this archives could be used to support 'opposition research' ...a process common in modern campaigning." In response to complaints, the White House restored the archives to the website. The webmaster admitted that it had been a mistake to remove it, saying, "We thought it had the potential for causing problems, but we have thought further and decided to restore it." The T.V. reporter observed that the incident called "into question the wisdom of having a government agency maintain its own archives of news or historical materials ....The real question becomes this: can we ever expect a particular government agency to exercise appropriate stewardship over archives of its own information? ...If my interpretation of how agencies behave is correct, then there is an inherent conflict of interest in having an agency manage its own archives. A trusted third party - whether it be 129 tampered with, the perception that they could have been tampered with is equally damaging because, as is well understood by now, it is not enough that the actions of government be above reproach; they must be seen to be above reproach. In the same way, it is not enough that records continue to be trustworthy over time; they must be seen to continue to be trustworthy over time. T o leave records in the hands of agencies who may be held to account for their actions through them threatens to erode the already shaky foundations of public trust in government. Moreover, it inevitably raises doubts about the authenticity of those records that will linger for future generations. The argument for archival custody, therefore, is based on the fact that as a neutral party the archives has no stake in the records and thus no motive to falsify or destroy them. Put another way, the probability of trustworthiness is higher when records are in the possession of an autonomous archival body than when they remain in the possession of their creator.6 9 It is important to reiterate that, while the U B C project identifies some of the problems associated with preserving the authenticity of inactive electronic records over the long term, it does not propose detailed procedural or technological solutions to them, beyond arguing for the continuing validity of archival custody. Further research is still required to determine the various means of ensuring the long-term trustworthiness of electronic records. Margaret Hedstrom has identified a number of research issues to be addressed in this area, which are based on the assumption that "exact replication of digital objects is rarely feasible or cost-effective and that archivists must accept some loss of information when migrating digital information from one generation of technology to the next."70 Future research needs to focus, therefore, on defining "acceptable levels of information loss during migration" and on identifying "a set of minimal record attributes, which if not retained would make investments in preservation pointless."71 The migration of electronic records containing color encoding, compression, and encryption are cited by Hedstrom as "examples of extremely complicated processes that require complex algorithms, software routines, and in some cases, specific hardware." Yet, she maintains, very little research has been undertaken to assess the extent to which alterations in the physical structure of electronic records during the migration process will result in the loss of some of the meaning and trustworthiness of those records, or the nature and degree of that loss. 7 2 the National Archives, or a major research library, or even C-SPAN - has no such conflict of interest." Rich Wiggins, "The Mysterious Disappearance of the White House Speech Archives: A Pioneering Application of Technology Vanishes,"cited in Alf Erlandsson, Electronic Records Management: A Literature Review (Paris: International Council on Archives, 1997), 76, n. 248. 69 The argument for archival custody is explored in more depth in Luciana Duranti, "Archives as a Place," and Terry Eastwood, "Should Creating Agencies Keep Electronic Records Indefinitely? . Archives and Manuscripts 24 (November 1996), 242-255, 256-67. 7 0 Margaret Hedstrom, "Research Issues in Migration and Long-Term Preservation." Archives and Museum Informatics 11 (1997): 288. 71 Ibid. 72 Ibid. Some of the specific questions Hedstrom identifies include: under what circumstances is lossy compression an acceptable storage format? When is it necessary to retain the color encoding 130 Further research is also needed to explore the procedural and technical means by which to preserve the integrity of the archival bond over time. For example, how can the essential link between a record and its profile be maintained intact over time and through migrations? How can the link between the profiles of the records belonging in the same dossier be maintained intact over time and through migrations? How can the periodic migration of electronic records be conducted in a way that their archival bond with non-electronic records will remain intact? 7 3 Although it does not provide answers to questions concerning the long term preservation of electronic record trustworthiness, the UBC project's conceptual analysis of electronic records offers a fairly precise answer to the question of what constitutes a complete, reliable, and authentic record in an electronic environment. That answer is relevant, not only to record creators but, also to lawyers and historians for a number of reasons. First, the diplomatic analysis of a record's status of transmission in an electronic environment demonstrates why the concept of an original continues to be relevant. Secondly, the methods advocated by the project for ensuring record reliability and authenticity provide a substantial foundation on which record creators can build electronic information systems capable of satisfying the rebuttable presumption of record integrity required by the Uniform Electronic Evidence Act. Thirdly, the project's findings take into account the significance of the technological context of electronic record creation in assessing record trustworthiness, thereby addressing some of the concerns raised by the plaintiffs in Armstrong and Public Citizen. At the same time, the findings acknowledge the continuing relevance of the administrative context of electronic record creation as an equally significant factor. Finally, because they assume the form of standards for identifying electronic records and for evaluating their reliability and authenticity, the products of the research are capable of serving as a tool for retrospectively assessing record trustworthiness and for identifying gaps in the security and scheme of a digital object? If color is an essential attribute of the document, must the exact color scheme be retained or are degrees of degradation acceptable? Is it necessary to retain voice annotations in their original format or is a computer-generated transcript of the voice annotation an acceptable alternative? Ibid. Some strategies for long-term preservation have been proposed by Charles Dollar in his Authentic Electronic Records: Stategies forLong-Tenm Access. 7 3 These issues, along with those identified by Hedstrom above, are the subject of an international research project, in which I will participate as co-investigator, aimed at determining methods for preserving the long-term authenticity of electronic records. This international and collaborative research project is entitled: "International Research on Permanent Authentic Records in Electronic Systems" (INTER PARES). It will be formally launched on January 2,1999. The project builds on the results of the UBC research project and represents an international collaboration among Canadian, American, European and Australian archivists in recognition of the fact that the method of long-term preservation must be applicable across juridical systems, cultures and technologies and must constitute the foundation of international standards and protocols. It also draws on knowledge from a wide range of disciplines and on the expertise of private, public and academic organizations from countries around the world. The Project's Director is Luciana Duranti, who also chairs the International Research Team comprised of the chairs of six working groups from Canada, the United States, Australia, Northern Europe, Italy, the Collaborative Electronic Notebook Systems Association (CENSA), as well as the directors of research teams from eight national archival institutions involved in the testing of the research results. 131 verification procedures operative in electronic recordkeeping systems. Such capacity is of particular relevance to historians who will be looking at electronic records long after they have exhausted their original administrative purpose. Nevertheless, while it is important to acknowledge the potential of contemporary archival diplomatics as a disciplinary framework for the creation and maintenance of reliable and authentic electronic records, it is also important to acknowledge the limits of its potential which are, in general the inevitable limits to bureaucratic ways of knowing. To understand the specific nature of those limits it is necessary to understand the grounds for bureaucratic recordkeeping. The findings of the UBC research constitute a model of administrative control reflective of Weber's ideal bureaucracy, many aspects of which can be traced back to medieval chancery procedures. From Roman times to the Renaissance, chanceries exercised an exclusive competence over the creation of records issued by sovereign authorities. Because the records granted privileges, elaborate and rigorous procedures were required to ensure the trustworthiness of the records. The structure and functioning of medieval chanceries reflect, in embryonic form, five salient features of Weber's "ideal" modern bureaucracy: (1) an unambiguous hierarchical authority structure; (2) a rationalization of offices; (3) the specialization of labor and specification of competencies; (4) the existence of rules, policies and procedures; and (5) the formalization of activities by means of written documentation. The first feature, an unambiguous hierarchy, is reflected in the structure of chanceries. Chanceries were structured in a clear hierarchy with a nominal chief at the top (the archicancellarius), followed by an effective chief (cancellarius), scribes (scriptores) and clerks at the bottom. The second, a rationalization of offices, is implicit in the organization of chanceries into four branches, each assuming responsibility for one stage in the preparation of the document: the compilation of the draft, the preparation of the original, the registration of the document and the affixing of the seal. This organization ensured the prevention of fraud at each step in the documentary process. The third feature, specialized labor and specific competencies, is reflected in a number of ways. Virtually all the chancery staff were required to be notaries because only notaries possessed the special training of ars dictaminis. Among the chancery staff there was further specialization: the datarii dated (thus validating) the document; the dictatores compiled the drafts; the scriptores prepared the original; the sigillatores had custody of the seals (their special qualifications were their illiteracy and their religious vows which were intended to deter them from committing forgery); and the registratores transcribed the documents. The fourth feature, the existence of rules, policies and procedures, is apparent in the requirement that documents be prepared in strict accordance with formularies, which were manuals that provided samples of specific types of documents. The formularies ensured that strict standards for ensuring that every documentary form issued by the chancery was complete and effective, with the correct seal affixed, the correct date attached, the appropriate clauses inserted and 132 the necessary signatures included. The final feature of Weber's ideal bureaucracy is the formalization of activities by means of written documentation. In modem organizational theory, formalization includes not only the existence of policies and procedures but, also, documentary memory which is associated with the obligation of the agency to account for its actions through its records. In the middle ages, the memory function is implicit in chancery procedures for registering important outgoing documents. The registration of such documents was important for at least three reasons: it served a pure memory function, it could be referred to if necessary to check precedents, and it provided an overview of sovereign policy on various matters. 7 4 While Weber's ideal type is discernible in medieval chancery procedures, it finds its full expression in the structure and functioning of modern bureaucracies. Eugene Kamenka characterizes its guiding spirit in the following terms: Pure or 'ideal-type' bureaucracy, for Weber ...is depersonalized, rationalistic, rule-bound behaviour ordered by laws and administrative regulations. It separates the bureau from the private domicile of the official; it divorces official activity from the sphere of private pursuits and attitudes ....[it] takes place on the basis of an impersonal, hierarchical structure of authority and a centrally controlled and supervised delegation of functions. ...For in bureaucracy, the command structure is unified, not fragmented. A true bureaucrat is free to act only in so far as he is empowered to do so and in the light of bureaucratic procedures and specified goals. 7 5 In the research project, the characteristics of Weber's ideal-type manifest themselves in the project's focus on the establishment of centralized control over record-writing and record-keeping, on the imposition of rules to govern the behavior of record-writers and record-keepers, and on the treatment of officers within an agency as exclusively juridical persons. 7 6 Such control mechanisms are essential because bureaucrats are obliged to account for their actions through records. Jane Parkinson explains the intimate link between record trustworthiness and bureaucratic accountability in the following way: The principle that underlies the concept of accountability ...is linked to the conveying and evaluation of information ....For ongoing bodies, For the structure and functioning of medieval chanceries see Giry, Manuel de Diplomatique, 661-820. For the structure and functioning of modem bureacracy according to the classical organizational theory of Weber, see Max Weber, The Theory of Social and Economic Organization, trans. A.M. Henderson and Talcott Parsons (New York: The Free Press, 1947), 329-341. See also Kathleen Carney, "Managing Integrated Record Systems: A Conceptual Foundation," (Master of Archival Studies thesis, University of British Columbia, 1995), 11-31. 7 5 Eugene Kamenka, Bureaucracy (Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989), 1,3. 7 6 For example, the individual space of the electronic system is assigned to individuals working within an agency on the basis of their official title rather than on the basis of their name. 133 accountability required the development and refinement of procedures for carrying out actions and documenting them, "to ensure that everything was done according to rule and in proper sequence, so that administrators could account ...at any time precisely for anything that had been done." Effective institutional accountability has therefore depended on record-making, record-keeping and access to records, and it has influenced the procedures and timing of their creation, their form, their maintenance, their accessibility and their centralization. 7 7 In an earlier chapter, it was established that, in a bureaucracy, records depend for their reliability on the claim of the observer/recorder to have been present at the events (or "actions") the record purports to record. 7 8 From the perspective of the bureaucrat who uses the record, "the concern with reliability is a practical expression of the basic fact that the absent non-observer's [i.e., the bureaucrat's] structural position is always and irremediably one of dependence in a world where the truth resides in the local nature of immediate events." 7 9 According to Raffel, because the event reported in the record "is, strictly speaking, unknowable, ...the adequacy of any record is problematic. Certainty is impossible, the only sure thing being that the record exists." 8 0 Bureaucracy has developed essentially two approaches to deal with this dilemma. In the first approach, bureaucrats assess records indirectly by focussing on the reliability of record-writers. As Raffel puts it: Instead of evaluating records, administrators can concentrate their efforts on attempting to ensure the reliability of record-keepers. Administrators can use the following logic: although the truth of records cannot be directly determined, records are true to the extent that record-keepers are reliable. Therefore, by attempting to make record- keepers reliable, they are indirectly attempting to make records truthful. They can assert their supervisory prerogative, not by watching over records but by watching over observers 8 1 In traditional bureaucracies control over record-writers was typically exercised by issuing commands and by close supervision. However, as Raffel cogently observes, in relation to hospital records, close supervision is more likely to reduce, rather than increase, candor in record-writing: Jane Parkinson, "Accountability in Archival Theory," (M.A.S. thesis, University of British Columbia, 1993), 25-26. 78 See supra, chap. 2, 57-59. 79 Raffel, Matters of Fact (see chap. 2, n. 67), 89. 8 0 Ibid., 18. 8 1 Ibid., 91. The use of hospital records specifically for auditing and supervisory purposes is discussed in Kai Erikson and Daniel Gilbertson, "Case Records in the Mental Hospital," in On Record, ed. Stanton Wheeler (New York: Russell Sage Foundation, 1970), 390 and in Phyllisis M. Ngin, "Recordkeeping Practices of Nurses in Hospitals," American Archivist 57 (Fall 1994): 616-630, passim. 134 Supervising now looks not like controlling, guiding, or watching over us but seeking to overhear us. However, the spy's problems are legion of course. If his enemies know he is there they will stop talking freely. Hence, the fact ...that all records about topics that are touchy from a supervisory point of view are defensive. It is always patients who die, never doctors who kill them. 'Proper' procedures, even those that self- respecting doctors would never stoop to perform, are always reported to have been followed. 8 2 In the UBC research project, close supervision is a characteristic means of ensuring the reliability of record-writers and is manifested most clearly in the imposition of access privileges over the makers and keepers of records. As computers are increasingly used in support of carrying out bureaucratic procedures, close supervision is being replaced by impersonal technological control systems. 8 3 In the research project, an audit trail is maintained of all the activity that takes place within the electronic recordkeeping system. A technological control system, which impassively witnesses and captures the actions and interactions of record-writers with the computer on a microscopic scale and stores them in its indefinitely expandable memory, appears to be the ideal observer of observers. The system is present at all the record-creating events that take place within the computer but its recording of those events is not contaminated by human self- interest. Of course, here too, as technology is used more and more for the purposes of controlling human observers, the line separating observation, supervision, and surveillance becomes increasingly thin and record-writers are likely to experience a corresponding reluctance to communicate freely. In court cases such as Armstrong, the electronic mail system of the Office of the President was targeted by historians and other researchers largely because, as a vehicle for less formal and, likely, more candid communications among Office staff, it was seen as a valuable source of information concerning the operations of the Office. Similarly, during the Somalia Inquiry, the Commissioners sought to obtain access to email messages generated within the Department of Defence in connection with the incidents being investigated. They were interested, specifically, in a series of email transmissions concerning efforts by a particular Major General (MGen Vernon) to organize several colleagues to present evidence before the Commission and the response of a Lieutenant General (LGen Reay) to those efforts. The Commissioners had obtained a copy of the transmissions from a third party and found particularly noteworthy references made by LGen Reay to "the idea of producing the King James Version of events" as well as his statement that, "How we respond is entirely up to us and we control what is written ....Every time the Commission asks for amplifying info or more briefs or whatever, we will respond and we control how we respond." According to the Commissioners, "this example Raffel, Matters of Fact, 100. Kamenka, Bureaucracy, 168. 135 illustrates the candour in a less formal communication medium such as e-mail and the value of such records for our work." 8 4 In his testimony before the Commission, MGen Vernon testified that members of the Canadian Forces frequently used email to communicate what he called "demi-official matters." He described demi-official correspondence as being private correspondence and contrasted it with official correspondence which 'belongs to Her Majesty'. He explained that demi-official communications were a normal method of staff work: establishing consensus through less formal liaison before the results are presented to superiors for official consideration. He also testified that the 'demi- official net' accounts for a great deal of the consultation and discussion behind official decisions. 8 5 In the interests of accountability and record trustworthiness, the UBC research project advocates bringing an agency's electronic mail system under the centralized control of the agency-wide records system. One of the rules of the recordkeeping system states that every email transmission entering or exiting the agency must pass through the general space of the electronic system to be registered before it is transmitted to the individual to whom it is directed. The Somalia example suggests that, while such a procedure may advance the objectives of formal reliability and authenticity, it may also contribute to a chilling effect on email communications. Given this possibility, to encourage candor in certain kinds of bureaucratic communication and in the interests of historical accountability, less surveillance, rather than more, may be preferable during the records' active life. Controlling record-writers is one solution to the dilemma created by the fact that the bureaucratic user of the record cannot be present at the event the record reports. A second solution, Raffel suggests, is to reorganize the idea of presence to the local event by extending what is meant by the event to include the record. Administrators can gain presence and hence make possible their non-participation by reconceiving of the record as the event. If the record itself can be conceived of as the event, then the administrator, who obviously can be present with the record, is no longer necessarily in a state of ignorance. 8 6 In this approach, records are evaluated, not in terms of their effectiveness in mirroring events, but, rather, in terms of their completeness in accordance with bureaucratic standards. In the UBC project, completeness is an aspect of reliability. To be considered complete, a number of specific elements, e.g., a signature, date, class code, registration number, must be present in the record profile. A record's [Canada], Dishonoured Legacy, vol. 5 (see intra., n. 5 ), 1212-1213. Ibid., 1213. Raffel, Matters of Fact, 102 136 reliability is then assessed in relation to the presence or absence of any of these elements: a reliable record will be one that appears to be reliable by anyone looking at it. In diplomatic terms, the signature carries special resonance as an indicator of a record's reliability. The requirement that record-writers sign their records is the commonest means by which bureaucrats evaluate a record's reliability and is associated both with record completeness and with controlling the behavior of record-writers. As Jack Goody observes, the signature "is not only a card of identity, as individual as the print of the finger or the hand, but also an assertion of truth or of consent." 8 7 Because the bureaucracy needs to be able to treat a record's contents as knowledgeable and definite, rather than uncertain, it requires record-writers to sign their records, thus making them responsible for the records' contents. The bureaucracy thus removes from itself the responsibility for knowing the event. According to Raffel: By getting the writer to sign the record the administration has gotten the writer to declare or say (by signing) that the record is adequate. His declaration is then treated by the bureaucrat as that which is showing itself to him. He does not know whether the record mirrors the event but he does know that someone says that the record mirrors the event. That someone has said that the record is adequate becomes the fact (event) which is presenting itself to the administrator. The administration can therefore point to the declaration as its reason for saying what it says about the record or, better, as its reason for not having to say anything about the record. ...The record appears to be adequate in that the writer has declared it to be adequate. As a sanction for controlling the behavior of record-writers, the signature provides the bureaucrat with two options: If he decides to rely on the observer, he can know about the event. If he does not rely on the observer, then he can at least know whom he finds unreliable. ...If administrators choose this option then, although they cannot know the event, they can know who they blame for their lack of knowledge, they can know who it is that is unreliable 8 9 The signature's sanctioning function is reinforced by the requirement that certain records be signed by more than one person. Clearly, the presence of a signature does not rule out unreliability. As Raffel points out, "the fact that records must be signed makes some record-writers even Jack Goody, The Logic of Writing and the Organization of Society (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1986), 152. 8 8 Raffel, Matters of Fact, 110. 8 9 / D / d . , 9 4 . 137 less inclined to be accurate when, a s so often, the truth would incriminate them." T h e point of the signature, from the bureaucrat's perspective, is to foreclose questions about the record-writer's intent. A c c o r d i n g to Raffel, to o v e r c o m e the problem of intent, the b u r e a u c r a c y requires the record-writer "to declare his intent, in this c a s e his intent to h a v e s p o k e n the truth. T h e declaration is s u p p o s e d to solve the problem of intent by making intent into something that c a n be s p o k e n rather than that which a n y s p e e c h leaves unsaid." 9 1 T e c h n o l o g i c a l efforts to adapt the signature to an electronic environment reinforce the traditional p u r p o s e s e r v e d by the signature in a b u r e a u c r a c y . O n e of the central functions of the digital signature is its "non-repudiation function," which e c h o e s the indisputability of the medieval sovereign's seal. Both are s y m b o l s of authority and responsibility that are intended to foreclose a n y further s p e e c h c o n c e r n i n g the reliability (and authenticity) of the object to w h i c h they are attached. With medieval seals, the sovereign's status g a v e the seal its authority. With electronic signatures, the complexity of the technology confers authority o n them. T h e s e observations suggest s o m e of the natural limits to bureaucratic ways of knowing a n d , therefore, to the methods for ensuring record trustworthiness p r o p o s e d by the U B C r e s e a r c h project. W h a t remains to be e x a m i n e d are s o m e of the inevitable limits to the application of the U B C methods for ensuring record trustworthiness in a given bureaucracy. T h e W e b e r i a n model e m p h a s i z e s efficiency, functionality, a n d formalization a n d tends to underestimate the importance of informality, a n d the extent to which the pursuit of trustworthiness may impede other worthy organizational objectives. It h a s b e e n pointed out by Robert Merton and Philip Selznick, for example, that W e b e r ' s e m p h a s i s o n precision a n d reliability in administration, o n its rule-bound character, h a s to be s u p p l e m e n t e d by a recognition that h u m a n attitudes a n d relationships are involved. T h e norms of impersonality m a y bring administration into conflict with citizens a n d thus m a k e them 'inefficient'. Functional sub-divisions will set up s u b - group loyalties in the b u r e a u c r a c y vital to the s u c c e s s f u l functioning of the sub-division, yet leading to conflicts within the whole . . . T h a t which is 'functional', 'efficient', is not always a coherent logical structure - efficiency may d e p e n d , a n d usually does, o n a delicate balancing, in c o n c r e t e contexts, of competing a n d conflicting trends a n d desiderata. A b u r e a u c r a c y n e e d s both impersonality a n d 'good relations', predictability a n d flexibility, rules a n d discretions, central control and local initiative. 9 2 Merton a n d Selznick's c o m m e n t s underline the fact, already o b s e r v e d in connection to email c o m m u n i c a t i o n , that too rigid a focus on formal m e c h a n i s m s for ensuring Ibid, 95. Ibid., 112. Kamenka, Bureaucracy, 160 138 record trustworthiness may have the detrimental effect of chilling candid communication. This understanding is not overlooked in the findings of the UBC research project which recognize that reliability is a matter of degree, and that individual bureaucracies will need to establish the degree of trustworthiness required for the various types of records. In fact, one aspect of integrating business and documentary procedures is to identify the category of each procedure, whether constitutive, executive, instrumental, or organizational. 9 3 The reason for determining the category for each procedure is to assess which procedures, and the records generated from them, require the most control. Because an agency's constitutive procedures create, extinguish, or modify the powers of persons with whom it interacts, the records generated in carrying out these procedures require the most control aimed at ensuring their reliability and authenticity. Instrumental procedures, on the other hand, which are connected to the giving and receiving of opinions and advice, do not directly result in any action, and the records generated from those procedures are most effective when they are least controlled. Merton and Selznick's comments also reinforce the point that Weber's model of bureaucracy is just that - a model - and that actual bureaucracies tend to be complex beasts that rarely fit the "ideal-type" at all points. Moreover, in different cultures, the bureaucratic ideal will be interpreted differently, being determined, to a considerable extent, by cultural priorities. Not all cultures attach the same value to formalization and centralized control nor do they all share a need to ensure predictability and reduce uncertainty. Geert Hoftstede has explored some of the differences among national cultures in a research project studying work-related values. 9 4 Using research data obtained by comparing the beliefs and values of employees within the subsidiaries of a large multinational corporation in forty countries around the world, he identified four main criteria by which these national cultures differ. These criteria have been labeled dimensions and are as follows: Power Distance, Uncertainty Avoidance, Individualism-Collectivism, and Masculinity- Femininity. The first two dimensions are the most relevant to understanding how bureaucracies function in different cultures. Power Distance "indicates the extent to which a society accepts the fact that power in institutions and organizations is distributed unequally." People in large Power Distance cultures prefer centralized decision-making and control while people in small Power Distance cultures prefer such control to be decentralized. Uncertainty Avoidance "indicates the extent to which a society feels threatened by uncertain and ambiguous situations and tries to avoid these situations by providing greater career stability, establishing more formal rules, not tolerating deviant ideas and behaviors, and believing in absolute truths See supra, chap. 4, 121. 94 Geert Hofstede, Culture's Consequences: International Differences in Work-Related Values (London: Sage Publications, 1980). See also Hofstede, "The Cultural Relativity of Organizational Praces and Theories," Journal of International Business Studies 14 (Fall 1983): 75-90; Hofstede, "Motivation, Leadership, and Organization: Do American Theories Apply Abroad?" Organizational Dynamics 9 (Summer 1980): 42-63. 139 and the attainment of expertise. While Power Distance relates to centralization, Uncertainty Avoidance relates to formalization. People in strong Uncertainty Avoidance cultures need written rules and regulations while people in weak Uncertainty Avoidance cultures believe there should be as few rules as possible. Richard Mead has translated these four dimensions into four distinct styles of bureaucracy: Full Bureaucracy, which most closely mirrors Weber's ideal type bureaucracy, is characterized by large power distance and strong uncertainty avoidance; Market Bureaucracy is characterized by small power distance and weak uncertainty avoidance; Workflow Bureaucracy is characterized by small power distance and strong uncertainty avoidance; and Personnel Bureaucracy is characterized by large power distance and weak uncertainty avoidance. 9 6 Hofstede's research shows that cultural differences will yield different attitudes toward the value of record trustworthiness relative to other organizational goals, and will result in different strategies for ensuring it. Commenting on Hofstede's research, Bearman observes that, in American organizations (which tend, in general, to be market bureaucracies), Technologies have been acquired in order to enhance the ability of individuals throughout the organization to do their jobs rather than in order to further corporate control or norms. European organizations [which tend, with the exception of Scandinavia and the Netherlands, to fall into the category of full or workflow bureaucracies] have been much more hesitant to introduce these technologies, and when they do so they usually develop substantial administrative controls surrounding their u s e . 9 7 Similarly, in Bearman's view, American organizations are more likely to rely on technological intervention rather than on administrative rules and regulations to ensure the trustworthiness of electronic records. 9 8 The perceived advantage of a Hofstede, "Motivation, Leadership," 45. 9 6 Richard Mead, Cross-Cultural Management Communication (New York: John Wiley and Sons, 1990), 25-28. 9 7 David Bearman, Diplomatics, Weberian Bureaucracy, and the Management of Electronic Records in Europe and America." American Archivist 55 (Winter 1992): 178. 9 8 The preference for a technology-oriented approach over a policy-oriented approach is apparent in a recent American research project, in which Bearman himself participated, investigating methods for ensuring the trustworthiness of electronic records, essentially, from a database management perspective. The "Record-keeping Functional Requirements Project" was carried out between 1993 and 1996 at the University of Pittsburgh. Its primary purpose was to develop and test functional requirements for recordkeeping in the context of electronic record-keeping systems. The identified requirements were derived from laws, regulations, and professional standards and best practices. Each requirement was then translated into the formal and more specific language of production rules. The requirements and rules were then used, 'lo delineate the type of metadata that should accompany each record and [to group] the metadata into a model for a metadata encapsulated record. ...[The] reference model "describes how the documentation of the content and structure of a record can be linked to, and retained with metadata that describes the context of the business transaction that caused the record to 140 technology-oriented approach is that the control exerted over record-writing and record-writers is automatic and invisible to the users of the system. On the other hand, the very invisibility of technological control mechanisms is precisely what makes them more insidious than traditional mechanisms of bureaucratic control. While the extent of technological surveillance is unknown to the user, the fact of such surveillance is not. Over the long term, uncertainty over its precise extent is bound to translate into a generalized atmosphere of distrust within an organization. In an ironic reversal, technological remedies to the problem of ensuring record trustworthiness may themselves become the next problem requiring a solution. Ultimately, the limits of contemporary archival diplomatics as a body of concepts and methods for ensuring the trustworthiness of electronic records are inseparable from the limits of the Weberian model of bureaucracy on which those concepts and methods are built. As Mary Douglas points out, bureaucracies "systematically direct individual memory and channel our perceptions into forms compatible with the relations they authorize." 9 9 Records are the most visible manifestation of that directing and channeling function and the procedural and technological methods for creating and controlling them the primary means of accomplishing it. Notwithstanding the fact that the relationship between records and reality is a problematic one, there is no question that the pursuit of record reliability and authenticity is a valid and necessary one and that it requires the imposition of standards. Standards, of necessity, organize reality into universalistic rather than particularistic categories and prescribe, rather than describe, the features of that reality in order to control and evaluate specific manifestations of it. This underlying purpose connects the concepts and methods developed by the UBC research project, to those that have been developed by the disciplines of law and history. Contemporary archival diplomatics aims primarily to control concrete manifestations of recordkeeping reality, while the legal and historical principles and rules of evidence aim to evaluate those manifestations. The conclusion will summarize the dominant themes that have emerged in the course of this exploration of record trustworthiness. be created. The metadata "guarantees that the record will be usable over time, only accessible under the terms and conditions established by the creator, and have the properties required to be fully trustworthy for purposes of executing business."" The Project's investigators claim that organizations developing electronic information systems "that comply with this reference model will ensure the preservation and accessibility of understandable and trustworthy records overtime." As a corollary, the Project also undertook five case studies of organizational culture in an attempt to predict the extent to which different organizations will adopt record-keeping requirements and the tactics they are likely to use in addressing them. For an overview of the Pittsburgh Project, see Wendy Duff, "Ensuring the Preservation of Reliable Evidence: A Research Project Funded by the NHPRC," Archivaria 42 (Fall 1996): 36, 37. 9 9 Mary Douglas, How Institutions Think (New York: Syracuse University Press, 1986), 92. 141 Conclusion This thesis has explored the concepts and methods associated with record trustworthiness from the perspectives of law, history, and diplomatics, and traced their evolution from antiquity to the digital age. In the course of that exploration a number of interconnected themes have emerged. The overarching theme has been the extent to which legal, historical, and diplomatic methods for assessing and ensuring the trustworthiness of records operate within a framework of inferences, generalizations and probabilities. Inferences about record trustworthiness rest on generalizations which, in turn, are furnished primarily by common sense experience and logic. In his discussion of the theories of relevancy on which legal rules of evidence rely, Peter Tillers neatly summarizes the limits of such generalizations: ... our conceptual knowledge of tendencies in the world is such that it is always necessary for the fact-finder or actor to determine whether the complex and varied features of a particular event are sufficient to distinguish that situation, either partially or entirely, from the types of events to which the generalization speaks. ...The thesis that all generalizations, when applied, have this sort of range of potential indeterminacy seems to rest on the twin metaphysical assumptions (which we find quite plausible) that (1) actual events are always inherently distinctive in the sense that they have a large complex of features that may, in principle, affect the appropriateness of regarding them as being within the domain of any particular generalization, and that (2) any generalization, however complex, is in principle only a partial description of tendencies of nature since no generalization that we presently possess describes the significance of all features and characteristics that are to be found in the world of existence.1 Given these limits, the methods for assessing and ensuring record trustworthiness are more accurately characterized as a hedge against uncertainty concerning our knowledge about past events, than as a guarantor of certainty about it. The "range of potential indeterminacy" inherent in all generalizations about the nature of reality is not ignored in analyses of legal, historical, and diplomatic methods. As one textbook on legal evidence explains, [b]ecause one cannot usually return in a time machine to show a trier of fact "what really happened," investigations do not produce "facts." They produce evidence, from which the trier of fact will resolve the parties' factual dispute(s) by deciding the probable facts. 2 1 Wigmore on Evidence, vol. 1A (Tillers revision, 1983), para. 37.7 at 1078. 2 Quoted in Richard H. Gaskins, Burdens of Proof in Modern Discourse (New Haven and London: Yale University Press, 1992), 26. 142 In his book Historical Knowing, Goldstein describes the process of historical research as a construction of an historical past, rather than the reconstruction of a real past: "it involves treatment of evidence and thinking about evidence and is preoccupied with the determination of what conception of the historical past makes the best sense given the character of the evidence in hand." 3 The documentary universe described by diplomatic methods is, similarly, less a representation than it is a construction of the real world. As Duranti explains: Diplomatics saw the documentary world as a system and built a system to understand and explain it. Early diplomatists rationalised, formalised and universalised document-creation by identifying within it the relevant elements, extending their relevance in time and space, eliminating their particularities, and relating the elements to each other and to their ultimate purpose.4 Implicit in these observations is a recognition that law, history, and diplomatics operate within a coherence, rather than a correspondence, theory of fact-finding. 5 Within a coherence theory of fact-finding, the truth of a proposition is assessed in relation to its coherence with other propositions that we accept as true, rather than in relation to its correspondence with an external, verifiable reality. The Rationalist tradition of legal evidence, the Modernist tradition of historical scholarship, and the Weberian model of bureaucracy on which contemporary archival diplomatics is built all constitute particular constructions of the world, rather than demonstrably accurate reflections of it. They represent ideal types and, as such, are normative and aspirational. The Rationalist tradition aspires to the ideal of justice, the Modernist tradition to that of historical truth, and the Weberian model to that of accountability. To realize these aspirations, reality has been organized into universalistic rather than particularistic categories that prescribe, rather than describe, its features in order to control and evaluate specific manifestations of it. The validity and strength of each discipline's methods for assessing and ensuring record trustworthiness can only be judged, therefore, in relation to the integrity and internal coherence of its procedures, rather than in relation to any verifiable standard of correspondence with the past as it actually happened, simply because such a standard is unattainable. In this context, the limits of assessing record trustworthiness, are attributable, ultimately, not to defects in method, but to "well-founded ambiguities" that defy resolution.6 3 Leon J. Goldstein, Historical Knowing (Austin and London: University of Texas Press, 1976), 141. 4 Luciana Duranti, "Diplomatics ...(Part IV)," 10. 5 For a detailed philosophical examination of the coherence theory of truth and its relation to the correspondence theory of truth, see Ralph C S . Walker, The Coherence Theory of Truth: Realism, Anti-Realism, Idealism (London and New York: Routledge, 1989). For an examination of the theories in the context of historical methodology, see W.H. Walsh, 'Truth and Fact in History," in An Introduction to Philosophy of History, 3 r d ed., rev. (Atlantic Highlands, New Jersey: Humanities Press, 1967), 72-92. 6 The phrase is Paul Ricoeur's. As he puts it, "History ...wants to resuscitate and it can only reconstruct. It wants to make things contemporary, but at the same time, it has to restore the distance and depth of historical time that separates ft from its object ...These difficulties do not arise from defects of method, they are well-founded ambiguities." Quoted in Le Goff, History and Memory, 105. 143 This is not to suggest that the methods for assessing record trustworthiness are, necessarily, untrustworthy, or that a correspondence theory of truth has no place in the fact-finding process. Dorothy Haecker maintains, in relation to historical ways of knowing, "that the concept of coherence is an indispensable part of the analysis of historical verification, that the concept of correspondence is indispensable to the understanding of historical reference, and that both are involved in the notion of historical meaningfulness."7 The same may be said in relation to legal ways of knowing. As Peter Tillers eloquently argues: [l]t is a mistake to suppose that we can trust nothing whose validity or reliability is not subject to a logically compelling demonstration. The fact is that nothing in this cosmos is susceptible to a logically compelling demonstration (except upon arbitrary premises), and yet it is plain enough that we do not distrust everything we believe merely because the validity of our beliefs is not in that sense logically demonstrable ... .the supposition that it is irrational to believe anything that cannot be proved rests on a basic misapprehension of what it means to be rational. Reason is not an instrument that can establish anything with certainty; but it is nonetheless certain that we can and do use reason and thought in wending our way through life and the cosmos ... .In our daily life, we draw innumerable inferences upon which we rely and upon which we stake our lives and fortunes and we will not be easily persuaded that the inferences we have drawn are untrustworthy.8 Tillers' argument suggests that, while we cannot defend foundationalist standards, at the same time, we cannot avoid them. Common sense dictates a certain leap of faith in accepting that the propositions we make about the nature of reality are valid, if not, ultimately, verifiable. Moreover, the pursuit of justice, historical truth, and accountability are important and socially necessary endeavors and the pursuit of all three requires a commitment to the value of accurate fact-finding.9 At the same time, the realization that the methods for assessing record trustworthiness, and the generalizations on which they are built, are human constructs, rather than transcendent verities, leads to the conclusion that those methods need continually to 7 Dorothy A. Haecker, "The Historical Way of Knowing," (Ph.D. thesis, University of Kansas, 1981), abstract. 8 Wigmore on Evidence, vol. 1A (Tillers revision, 1983), para. 37.7 at 1085. 9 Jonathon Cohen goes so far as to argue, in relation to the law's pursuit of justice, that "only by producing generally acceptable verdicts on facts at issue can a legal system ensure that in the long term it will continue to retain the respect of the informed public ....What is crucial here is not so much actual accuracy of trial outcomes, but rather the extent to which people believe in this accuracy, especially in criminal cases. Moreover only by using broadly the same fact-finding procedures as those that the informed public respects can a legal system ensure that it will produce generally acceptable verdicts [emphasis mine]." Jonathon Cohen, "Freedom of Proof," in Facts in Law: Association for Legal and Social Philosophy Ninth Annual Conference at Hatfield College, University of Durham, 2nd - 4th April 1982, edited by William Twining (Wiesbaden, Germany: Franz Steiner Verglag GMBH, 1983), 4-5. 144 be reassessed and re-evaluated as new ways of looking at the world present themselves. 1 0 The second theme that has emerged in the course of this exploration concerns the specific generalizations on which the legal, historical, and diplomatic methods that have been discussed are based. In all three disciplines, the methods for assessing and ensuring record trustworthiness in general, and record reliability, in particular, are rooted in observational principles.1 1 Records are viewed as a source of information that permit us to make inferences about the real world. Because they are assumed to reflect events in the real world, records depend for their reliability on the claim of the observer to have been present at those events. Accordingly, the methods for assessing record trustworthiness aim to ensure that the record accurately reflects those events, and that it is uncontaminated by the distorting influence of bias, interpretation, or unwarranted opinion on the part of the observer/recorder. For records created by bureaucracies, the organizational context simply enlarges the traditional conception of the observer's/recorder's presence in time and place. The bureaucratic controls exercised over observation and recording constitute a further dimension of observation whereby the bureaucracy itself becomes a watcher over observers and recorders. The reliability of bureaucratic records is thus ensured, not only because the observer/recorder is close to the event recorded but also because the recording itself takes place within a framework of bureaucratic observation and surveillance. The degree of reliability of the records can then be measured in relation to the degree to which the bureaucracy shapes and constrains the speech of observers and recorders. The gradual replacement of traditional mechanisms of bureaucratic supervision by impersonal technological control systems, has not resulted in an abandonment of bureaucratic observational principles as a means of assessing and ensuring record trustworthiness. It has tended, rather, to perpetuate and reinforce them. The computer has become the perfect observer, with its capacity to witness and capture the actions and interactions of record-writers on a microscopic scale. It is present at all the record-creating events that take place within it but its recording of those events is not contaminated by human self-interest. The computer's A recent example of a new way of looking at the world is the Supreme Court of Canada's overturning of the trial court's decision in Delgamuukw v. British Columbia, and its specific rejection of the trial judge's decision to exclude or to accord no weight to oral histories of aboriginal peoples on the grounds that they constituted hearsay and were thus inherently unreliable. In its decision, the Supreme Court recognized the need for the legal system to "adapt the laws of evidence so that the aboriginal perspective on their practices, customs and traditions and on their relationship with the land, are given due weight by the courts. In practical terms, this requires the courts to come to terms with the oral histories of aboriginal societies, which, for many aboriginal nations, are the only record of their past." Delgamuukw v. British Columbia, [1997] 3 S.C.R. 1010 at 64. 1 1 Observer principles may also be read into the methods associated with assessing record authenticity, specifically, in the preference for documentary originals over copies. If we consider the creation of the record itself to be the event, the original record is the one closest to the event. 145 homunculus eye view is, nevertheless, a narrow one, since it is confined to the electronic information system and fails to capture the broader documentary and administrative context in which electronic records are created, used, and made meaningful. The observational principles on which methods for assessing and ensuring record trustworthiness are based reflect a conception of records as witnesses to events and a corresponding view of the world as one that is capable of being witnessed. As Raffel explains: it becomes possible for a record to correspond to the world only when 'the world' is formulated as itself revealing the things which must be said about it. This is not to say that the world does disclose itself. Rather: in so far as one can formulate the world as made up of things which present or fail to present themselves, it thereby becomes possible for a record to 'represent' the world. It is neither correct, or incorrect, then, to treat records as corresponding to the world. The proper statement of the relationship of records to the world is that, in so far as one wants to see records as corresponding to the world, one must treat the world as revealing or presenting what must be said about it. 1 2 Raffel's comments underline the fact that the legal, historical, and diplomatic methods are all rooted in a particular way of looking at the world and in a particular conception of records as a kind of testimony about that world. His comments also reinforce the point that the methods reflect a particular mode of instantiation, one that is shaped by each discipline's procedures of investigation and, therefore, does not exhaust all the possible ways of looking at the world or at the relationship between records and the world. Mark Cousins observes, for example, that the practice of both legal and historical investigation pivots around the same questions: did an event occur or not? Do reports or allegations that an event has occurred correspond to the best evidence of the existence of such an event? Into which class of event does the event fall? Who and what are responsible for it? What are the lines of causality to be drawn in respect of the event? What degrees of responsibility do or can particular persons bear? As a consequence, the past that is of concern to legal and historical inquiry, "is not the past in general, but only the past as it concerned the event and the questions of responsibility which such events raise." While the truth uncovered by a court of law or by an historian is subject to appeal, "such an appeal will merely extend reasoning about the event and responsibility for the event. The production of new evidence will permit a representation which was not [previously] available ...Arguments concerning failures of [previous] reasoning ...will seek to overthrow its representation of the event." 1 3 Grounded in a view of the world that is witnessable 1 2 Raffel, Matters of Fact, 64. 1 3 Cousins (see chap. 3, n. 44), 132. 146 and event-full, legal and historical procedures thus tend to focus on actions and their agents and are better equipped to assess responsibility than to expose intentionality. In the same way, bureaucratic methods for ensuring record trustworthiness are directed largely at foreclosing questions about the intentionality of record-writers, preferring to focus instead on ensuring that record-writers are made responsible for the statements made in the records. Another theme that has emerged in the course of this thesis is the continuing validity of a best evidence principle to the assessment of record trustworthiness. As espoused by Nance, that principle refers to the obligation of litigating parties to present the "epistemically best," meaning the logically most probative, evidence. The adherence to such principle, in the more specific context of the rule governing documentary originals, it has been suggested, might manifest itself in an obligation of the litigating parties to produce the most complete record, i.e., the record containing all the elements of physical and intellectual form present in the original. It has been shown that the dimension of completeness is particularly pertinent to electronic records, given that their structural, contextual, and discursive components may exist in separate parts of a database and can be managed separately unless they are purposefully brought together. The foundation evidence that supports a presumption of record integrity, therefore, should be capable of demonstrating, not only the reliability of an information system's input and verification procedures, but, also, the completeness of procedures for reproducing the original structure of the record and any original annotations, to the extent that these are relevant to an understanding of the record's content. This implies that courts will have to come to terms with the question of what constitutes a complete record and be capable of assessing the significance of missing elements with respect to the record's reliability and authenticity. The best evidence principle may also be extended, by analogy, to the historian's use of documentary evidence. The adherence to the principle in an historical context might manifest itself in historians' obligation to ensure that the electronic records on which they base their stories about the past are also the most complete. In fact, in the two American court cases that have been discussed, historians have already demonstrated their concern to ensure the preservation of the most complete version of federal government records. Understood broadly, the best evidence principle implies that judges, litigants, as well as historians, need to educate themselves about the nature of electronic records and how they manifest themselves in various information systems in order to be capable of assessing record completeness and to ensure that the epistemically best evidence is presented. For all their limitations, the standards for ensuring record trustworthiness, based on contemporary archival diplomatics, that have emerged in the course of the UBC research project, are an invaluable means of facilitating that understanding. The standards provide a precise and detailed answer to the question of what constitutes a complete, reliable, and authentic record in an electronic environment, one that is relevant to lawyers, judges, and historians, as 147 well as to record creators. The standards not only provide a substantial foundation on which to build trustworthy electronic information systems, they are also capable of serving as a tool for retrospectively assessing record trustworthiness and for identifying gaps in the security and verification procedures operative in electronic recordkeeping systems. Such capacity is particularly relevant to historians who will be looking at electronic records long after they have exhausted their original administrative purpose. Historians, in particular, need to understand information technology, not simply because it soon will be the primary vehicle through which stories about the human past are told but, also, because technology, and the tension between empowerment and surveillance it embodies, are an essential part of that story. R.J. Morris speculates that: Historians will seek to understand the late twentieth century in order to relate it to collective identities and experiences of their own period. If the current analysis of 'post modernism' is any guide to this, that experience will be complex and fragmented . . . T h e archives of IT, the e-data, will be one base from which that complexity and fragmentation can be recreated and interrogated. Even the current fragmentation of historical practice should warn us that historians will want to tell many stories. IT and e-data will not only be a source of these stories but part of the story i t s e l f . 1 4 Historians need to understand the products of the digital age, both to comprehend it, and to assess its effect on late twentieth century culture. A final theme that has been explored in this thesis concerns if and where a line should be drawn between observation and surveillance in designing technological mechanisms for ensuring record trustworthiness. Recent research in the history and sociology of technology, Margaret Hedstrom points out, emphasizes the "social construction of technology," and the significance of human choices in shaping it. This perspective considers technology to be the embodiment of human choices that influence how a machine is designed, what it is designed to accomplish, and how it is intended to accomplish its objectives. The design, development, marketing, acceptance or rejection, and interpretation of a technology are social processes shaped by rich interaction between cultural norms, economic and political power, social values, and the potential of a new machine or process. 1 5 R.J. Morris, "Electronic Documents and the History of the Late 20 Century: Black Holes or Warehouses ~ What do Historians Really Want?" in Electronic Information Resources and Historians, 311-12. 1 5 Margaret Hedstrom, "Understanding Electronic Incunabula: A Framework for Research on Electronic Records," American Archivist 54 (Summer 1991): 340-41. 148 Electronic information systems are still in their infancy and there is time yet to explore and debate questions concerning the appropriate balance to be struck between the social value of trustworthy records and the social costs of increased surveillance. Such exploration needs, however, to take place sooner rather than later. As Hedstrom cautions, the "social construction of technology" perspective also suggests that "technologies ultimately reach 'closure' - a point at which debate over the features of the technology ceases and the artifact or process stabilizes. Upon reaching closure, technical features alone may limit or eliminate possibilities, require adjustments in social and political systems, undermine deeply-held cultural values, and alter power relations." 1 6 This suggests the need to weigh the social value of record trustworthiness against other social values in order to ensure that the technological mechanisms we develop and implement reflect an equitable balance among those values and do not simply shore up the worst excesses of bureaucratic surveillance. This exploration has demonstrated that the societal need to ensure record trustworthiness has been recognized since antiquity and that such need continues to be recognized at the end of the twentieth century. 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work_z3etjcracjelhhst2l3yowfavm	----	Integrated Urban River Corridors Spatial design for social-ecological resilience in Bucharest and beyond Claudiu Forgaci 31 2018 Integrated Urban River Corridors Spatial design for social-ecological resilience in Bucharest and beyond Claudiu Forgaci Delft University of Technology, Faculty of Architecture and the Built Environment, Department of Urbanism TOC abe.tudelft.nl Design: Sirene Ontwerpers, Rotterdam ISBN 978-94-6366-109-6 ISSN 2212-3202 © 2018 Claudiu Forgaci All rights reserved. No part of the material protected by this copyright notice may be reproduced or  utilized in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by  any information storage and retrieval system, without written permission from the author. Unless otherwise specified, all the photographs in this thesis were taken by the author. For the use  of illustrations effort has been made to ask permission for the legal owners as far as possible. We  apologize for those cases in which we did not succeed. These legal owners are kindly requested to  contact the publisher. TOC To Ioana For reminding me that the world is fuzzy. TOC TOC Preface This thesis has grown out of a combined passion for cities and rivers. Throughout the years, I have  become increasingly fascinated by urban rivers. My first encounter with rivers as a designer was during  my master thesis in architecture, in which the assignment of a contemporary art gallery on the bank of  River Drava in Maribor, Slovenia, drove me to study the structural and physical relationships between  the city and water in the riverfront (Forgaci, 2010). I understood that the river and its banks do not  constitute a barrier, but a limit that has a ‘thickness’ enforced by transversal relations, manifested in a  stratification of functions, uses and users, spaces and buildings, formed by the historical development  of the city close to water. Diagram of the functional and physical relations between water and the city in a conceptual representation of a riverfront section,  comprising the elements (in black, from left to right) the water, the embankment, the built front, and the city, and the relations  between those elements (in red) reflection, disembarkation, representation, function and identity. Source: Forgaci, 2010. As a student in the European post-master in Urbanism at TU Delft, my fascination with rivers grew  further as I became more familiar with the Dutch landscape and with the TU Delft school of urbanism  and landscape architecture. For instance, I learned of the Dutch Layers Approach (De Hoog, Sijmons  & Verschuuren, 1998, cited in van Schaick & Klaasen, 2011), which, by its simplicity yet essential  way of describing the spatial configuration and dynamics of the urbanised landscape, remained a key  reference in my subsequent work. Moreover, I have had the experience of the Randstad, a place where  I barely felt the pressure of urbanisation, yet I have been living in one of the densest megalopolises in  Europe, a place where I could go anywhere by bike and train without feeling the need to own a car, but  also a place where the relation between land and water is of an utmost cultural importance. During my  post-master studies, I also had the chance to be acquainted with the school of thought of Bernardo  Secchi and Paola Viganò at IUAV Venice. There I learned to ask fundamental questions and to work  with scenarios stemming from the contemporary urban condition, characterised by changing mobility  patterns, climate change, social inequalities, as well as urban and natural environmental pressures on  humans and ecosystems. TOC Following these experiences, my thesis in urbanism (Forgaci, 2013), entitled Bucharest: Between North and South, returned to the river as a strategic urban space, which could potentially restore  connections between the two halves of Bucharest, restore ecological and environmental conditions  in a city-wide green corridor, and, as such, to become a backbone of sustainable urban development.  Under the guidance of Daan Zandbelt (TU Delft) and Bernardo Secchi (IUAV Venice), I learned of the  structuring potential of rivers on a metropolitan scale and of the importance of geomorphological  conditions, that is, the fact that a river is not just a line, but also a valley, a fact often overlooked,  especially in the case of canalised rivers found in low-lying geographic locations, such as River  Dâmbovița of Bucharest.  Having lived, studied and worked as an architect for almost a decade in Bucharest, and thus having  experienced the presence (and absence) of River Dâmbovița and River Colentina, choosing it as  the object of study in my Ph.D. research was straightforward. This way, I could achieve an in-depth  understanding of the place and a sustained communication with local actors, while gaining wider  knowledge of how urban rivers in general can improve the spatial quality, functioning and resilience  of the cities that they cross. Encouraged and inspired by my promotor Arjan van Timmeren, I could  continue during my Ph.D. research the explorations on the urban river corridors of Bucharest, while  taking the challenge of urban resilience as an overarching concept. I learned that urban resilience as  a way of thinking is a concept of utmost importance for dealing with contemporary social-ecological  urban issues that has to and can be constantly trained through spatial design in order to strengthen  the urban environment against acute shocks and chronic stresses. The design explorations and the design workshop carried out during my stay in the Netherlands  and presented in this thesis, have furthered my understanding that the problems of the urban river  corridors of Bucharest, including their poor contribution to urban resilience, are not unique, but  representative for many other riverside urban areas around Europe and the rest of the world. Although  the thesis focuses on the case of Bucharest, and it offers a predominantly Euro-centric perspective,  it illustrates the wider relevance of the subject matter with references to urban rivers form other  countries and continents as well. Apart from urban rivers, I was interested in pursuing evidence-based design and design-driven  research, that is, to find potential ways to combine knowledge, skills, competences, and discoveries  between research and design. Recognising the need for these approaches in dealing with the complexity of the current urban condition, I adopted a range of tools and methods for spatial  and network analysis to describe the urban environment, such as MatrixGreen for patch network  analysis and Space Syntax for street network configuration analysis, and design-driven research  methodologies, such as the design workshop combined with design explorations through urban river  projects. Overall, these three motivations—urban rivers, evidence-based design and design-driven research— constitute the building blocks of this thesis, founded on the concept of resilience. Urban river corridors  as social-ecologically integrated urban spaces and their manifestation in the context of Bucharest  are closely described in Part 1 of the thesis, while evidence-based design and design-driven research  are tackled in Part 2 and Part 3. Although these three parts, named Context, Assessment and Design, are presented in a linear succession, they also represent the elements of a non-linear design process,  in which interlinkages, feedback loops, iterations, and overlaps are possible. I hope that this thesis  will contribute to a better understanding of the relationship between cities and rivers, and to the  combined practice of research and design. TOC Acknowledgements In spite of all the appearances, a Ph.D. is far from being an individual journey. I was very lucky to have  been accompanied, inspired, supported, encouraged and stimulated by so many people, whom I will  do my best to acknowledge here. First of all, I would like to express my deepest gratitude to my promotors Arjan van Timmeren and  Machiel van Dorst and to my daily supervisor Jorge Gil. With his broad and inclusive view of urbanism,  Arjan van Timmeren has inspired me to consider all the facets of the urban environment as a  complex system, including its metabolism, ecology, economy and governance, and thus to adopt a  transdisciplinary perspective in my work. I was also very fortunate to be stimulated and encouraged  by him to continue my previous work and to develop a design-driven thesis. As a student at TU Delft,  I learned from Machiel van Dorst how to observe and reveal patterns in the urban environment, how  to formulate hypotheses, how to underpin them with theory and how to apply them in design. During  my Ph.D. research, he has taught me how to make one step back and to reflect before getting lost in  detail. This is a lesson I learned both for research and for life. He has also reminded me of an often- forgotten fact: that urbanism is, above all, about people. I am equally thankful to my daily supervisor  Jorge Gil for coaching me throughout my last year by keeping me alert and pulling me back from dead  ends. From Jorge Gil I learned how to set up and implement the indicator system and the assessment  framework developed in this thesis. All in all, the completion of my dissertation would not have been  possible without the unwavering support of my supervisors. My special thanks are extended to my  former supervisors Egbert Stolk, for guiding me in the first years of my research and for our insightful  discussions on design thinking and transdisciplinarity, and Juval Portugali, whose fundamental  questions have made this thesis much sharper. Moreover, I would like to thank the independent  members of the doctoral committee, Angelica Stan, Sybrand Tjallingii, Paola Viganò, Dirk Sijmons, and  Carola Hein, for accepting to be part of my defence and for their valuable feedback, enriching the end  of my journey as a Ph.D. researcher. Many thanks to Lars Marcus and Meta Berghouser Pont of the Spatial Morphology Group at Chalmers  University of Technology, as well as to Gabriel Pascariu from the Faculty of Urbanism at "Ion Mincu"  University of Architecture and Urbanism in Bucharest (UAUIM-FU), for hosting me during my research  mobilities in the Spring of 2016, two periods that were instrumental in the development of my thesis.  My thanks go to the 22 experts whom I interviewed during that period in Bucharest. By sharing their  wisdom on the ins and outs of the rivers of Bucharest, this thesis has become much richer in content  and much more grounded in reality. The design workshop organized in Bucharest in 2017 gathered a large group of people who had a  positive impact on this thesis. First of all, I wish to thank the 32 excellent master students, EMU  post-master students, Ph.D. candidates, and young professionals, who spent one intensive week to  design on the two rivers of Bucharest and to test the design instruments developed in this research.  Their contribution was essential for the design-driven methodology of this thesis. I would also like  to acknowledge Angelica Stan, Gabriel Pascariu and Claudiu Runceanu, from the management of  UAUIM-FU, for supporting the design workshop, and to Andreea Acasandre, Alexandru Belenyi,  Simona Butnariu, and Andrei Mitrea, from the teaching staff of UAUIM-FU, for their valuable input  in the design sessions of the workshop. I must thank Ioana Tudora and Andrei Ionel for taking us on  two adventurous and inspiring site visits along the rivers of Bucharest, and Teodor Frolu and Vlad  Stoica who inspired the workshop participants with their lectures during the visit of River Dâmbovița.  The inspiring lectures of Constantin Radu Gogu, Liviu Ianăși, Gabriel Pascariu and Cristian Tetelea in  TOC the daily seminars, as well as the evening lectures of Birgit Hausleitner, Taneha Kuzniecow Bacchin,  Șerban Țigănaș, Ștefan Ghenciulescu, Andrei Mitrea, Arjan van Timmeren and Machiel van Dorst are  also acknowledged with gratitude. I am grateful to the jury members of the design workshop formed  by Ellen Fetzer, Cristian Iojă, Matei Bogoescu, and Arjan van Timmeren, for their thorough evaluation  of the design projects developed in the workshop. I would also like to thank Iulian Canov, Cristina Zlota  and Vlad Stoica for hosting us in their workshop space at La Firul Ierbii. Furthermore, I extend my  thanks to Bram van der Grinten, Kristel Aalbers, Roberto Rocco, and Radu Ionescu for their valuable  advice on preparing the design workshop. Special thanks to Maria Alexandrescu, Irina Băncescu, Daniele Cannatella, Marcin Dąbrowski,  Anca Ioana Ionescu and Toader Popescu for their valuable feedback on my chapter manuscripts. I  am also grateful for the assistance provided by Vincent Babeș with some of the maps used in this  research, and to my colleague Daniele Cannatella for assisting me in the analyses carried out for the  assessment of urban river corridor Dâmbovița. Thanks should also go to my companions in design  Maria Alexandrescu and Anca Ioana Ionescu. Our work has been inspirational in developing elements  of the design-based research approach presented in this thesis. Thanks also to my colleagues Birgit  Hausleitner, Janneke van der Leer, Sitong Luo, Daniela Maiullari, Bardia Mashhoodi and Alex Wandl,  who stimulated me to cross the finish line, and to Margo van der Helm for magically solving all  administrative issues.  Last but not least, I must thank Ioana, my partner in life and in work, for our inspiring conversations,  her sharp critique, and for supporting me unconditionally and with utmost patience. TOC Contents List of Tables     17 List of Figures     19 List of abbreviations     25 Summary     27 Samenvatting     29 Rezumat     33 1 Introduction 37 1.1 Background     37 1.2 Problem statement     40 1.2.1 The river as a barrier 41 1.2.2 Latent flood risk     42 1.2.3 Lack of ecosystem services     43 1.2.4 Reduction of scalar complexity     44 1.3 Theoretical framework     44 1.3.1 Social-ecological resilience 45 1.3.2 Urban form resilience     49 1.3.3 Spatial morphology and landscape ecology     50 1.3.4 Conceptual framework     50 1.4 Research questions and objectives     52 1.5 Approach 53 1.5.1 Design study     53 1.5.2 Transdisciplinarity     54 1.6 Methodology     55 1.6.1 Research design 56 1.7 Relevance 59 1.7.1 Societal relevance 59 1.7.2 Scientific relevance     59 1.8 Thesis outline 60 TOC PART 1 Context 2 Towards a Spatial-Morphological Definition of Integrated Urban  River Corridors—A Transdisciplinary Literature Review     65 2.1 Introduction 65 2.2 Urban River Corridors—A Literature Review     65 2.2.1 Urban rivers at the interface between city and nature     66 2.2.2 The environmental-ecological dimension     68 2.2.3 The social-economic dimension     72 2.2.4 The planning-governance dimension     76 2.2.5 The spatial-morphological dimension     79 2.2.6 Key properties of URCs—a synthesis     83 2.3 Spatial definition     86 2.4 Conclusion 89 3 Social-Ecological Dynamics in Bucharest’s River  Corridors—A Diachronic Perspective     91 3.1 Introduction 91 3.2 Geographic context: hydrography and fluvial geomorphology     91 3.3 A synoptic history of Bucharest’s river corridors     95 3.3.1 Dâmbovița—from a dynamic valley to a canal     96 3.3.2 Colentina—from a pestilential river to a pearl of lakes     101 3.3.3 The two rivers under Communism—continuity and disruption     104 3.3.4 Human-induced changes in the river system     108 3.4 Discussion 110 4 The State of Knowledge on the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest     113 4.1 Introduction 113 4.2 The urban river corridors of Bucharest under post-communist transition     113 TOC 4.3 Methods     117 4.3.1 Data collection 118 4.3.2 Data analysis     119 4.4 Results 121 4.4.1 Bucharest 121 4.4.2 Dâmbovița     122 4.4.3 Colentina 129 4.5 Discussion 135 4.6 Assignment     137 PART 2 Assessment 5 A Framework for the Assessment of Social-Ecological  Integration in Urban River Corridors 141 5.1 Introduction 141 5.2 Challenges and opportunities for assessment     141 5.2.1 Assessment in planning for sustainability     142 5.2.2 From properties to indicators of URCs     142 5.3 Spatial metrics of urban rivers in current approaches     143 5.4 Assessment framework     147 5.4.1 Indicators of connectivity     149 5.4.2 Indicators of spatial capacity     152 5.4.3 Scalar framework     155 5.4.4 Social-ecological integration assessment     155 5.5 Discussion 156 5.6 Conclusion 157 TOC 6 Assessing the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest 159 6.1 Introduction 159 6.2 Assessment methodology     159 6.2.1 Study area and assessment units     160 6.2.2 Selection of indicators 160 6.2.3 Data and implementation     161 6.3 Corridor segment analysis     163 6.3.1 Connectivity     163 6.3.2 Spatial capacity     166 6.3.3 Social-ecological integration 168 6.4 URC Colentina—wider application     172 6.5 Discussion 176 6.6 Conclusion 177 PART 3 Design 7 Design Principles for Integrated Urban River Corridors     181 7.1 Introduction 181 7.2 Social-ecological urban design 182 7.3 Principles of urban river corridor design     184 7.3.1 Configuring connections     186 7.3.2 Intensifying open spaces     200 7.3.3 Growing synergies     210 7.3.4 Bridging scales 214 7.4 Discussion 221 7.5 Conclusion 222 TOC 8 Applying the Principles through Design Instruments     223 8.1 Introduction 223 8.2 Design instruments     225 8.2.1 Revealing the elements of the URC     226 8.2.2 Relating the elements of the URC     228 8.3 Workshop methodology     233 8.3.1 Selection of participants 234 8.3.2 Workshop set-up     235 8.3.3 Data collection 240 8.3.4 Data analysis and interpretation     240 8.4 Results 241 8.4.1 The instruments in the design process     242 8.4.2 The design projects     252 8.5 Discussion 254 8.5.1 The use of the instruments     255 8.5.2 Methodological challenges     255 8.6 Conclusions 256 9 Conclusions and Discussion 257 9.1 Conclusions 257 9.1.1 Understanding Urban River Corridors 258 9.1.2 Assessing Urban River Corridors 261 9.1.3 Designing Urban River Corridors 262 9.1.4 Contribution 264 9.2 Discussion 265 9.2.1 Reflections on the impact of social-ecologically integrated URCs on general urban resilience     265 9.2.2 Challenges and opportunities of a transdisciplinary design study     267 TOC 9.3 Practical applications and implications     270 9.3.1 Possible usage scenarios     270 9.3.2 The implications of social-ecologically integrated URCs to urban development     271 9.4 Limitations and recommendations for future research     272 References 275 Biography     283 List of publications     285 Appendices 287   Appendix A  Interview schedule 289   Appendix B  List of interviewed  experts     293   Appendix C  Example of a transcribed, translated and coded expert interview     295   Appendix D  Summary of the QDA of the expert interviews     303   Appendix E  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs     307   Appendix F  Application procedure published on the workshop website     345   Appendix G  List of selected participants     347   Appendix H  Workshop calendar     349   Appendix I  Example of a workshop handout: Day 1     351   Appendix J  Example of base maps: site D3     353   Appendix K  Example of a daily evaluation form: Day 1     355   Appendix L  Example of a summary of daily evaluation results     357   Appendix M  Post-workshop evaluation form     359   Appendix N  Summary of the interviews with the workshop participants     363   Appendix O  The design projects developed in the workshop     369   Appendix P  The jury’s evaluation sheet for the final presentation     381 TOC 17  List of Tables List of Tables 1.1 Definition of key concepts used in the theoretical  framework.    45 1.2 Sub-questions and objectives used to answer the main  research question.    52 1.3 The methods used in the thesis, in relation to the  sub-questions and objectives used to answer the main  research question.    57 2.1 Definition of key terms required for the understanding  of the environmental and ecological dimension of  URCs. 68 2.2 Definition of key terms for the understanding of the  social and economic dimension of URCs.    72 2.3 Definition of key terms for the understanding of the  planning and governance dimension of URCs.    76 2.4 Definition of key terms for the understanding of the  spatial and morphological dimension of URCs.    79 2.5 A synthesis of integrated three-dimensional  connectivity.    84 2.6 A synthesis of spatial components of URCs identified in  literature under the theme of open space amenity.    84 2.7 A synthesis of multiscalar approaches to URCs identified  in literature. 86 3.1 Morphometric features of Dâmbovița and Colentina    94 4.1 Disciplines and domains represented in the sample of  experts.    118 4.2 Methods of analysis associated with the questionnaire  and interview guide. 119 4.3 The hierarchy of groups and code naming convention  used in the content analysis.    120 4.4 The main themes emerged from the QDA in relation to  the four domain families.    135 5.1 Summary of the main themes presented in Chapter 2  and their relation with the four properties of URCs. 143 5.2 Indicators of social and ecological connectivity.    150 5.3 Indicators of social and ecological spatial capacity.    153 6.1 Indicators selected for URC Dâmbovița, according to  the criteria of representativeness and case-specificity,  i.e. corresponding to the main problems and potentials  identified by local experts (see Chapter 4 for a detailed  analysis of the experts' opinions and Appendix E for  a full list of problems and potentials, from which the  summary in this table was made). A subset (marked  with blue) was selected according to the criteria of data  availability and implementation constraints.    162 6.2 The results of the assessment carried out with the  indicators of connectivity and spatial capacity on  the standardized three-point scale and aggregated values (the minimum value in each category) used for  the assessment of social-ecological integration. The  complete results with absolute values for each indicator  can be found in Appendix E.     169 6.3 Indicators selected for URC Colentina, corresponding to the main problems and potentials identified by  local experts (see Chapter 4 for a detailed analysis  of the experts' opinions and Appendix D for a full  list of problems and potentials incorporated in this  table). Indicators highlighted with green are used for  demonstration in this section.    173 7.1 Summary of principles found in urban and landscape  design literature that are related to the four key  properties of URCs identified in Chapter 2. Principles  that are specific to river- or waterside urban design,  already described in Section 2.2, are included in a  distinct category under each property.    185 7.2 The spatial networks of URCs, their elements  (emphasis added to potential elements) and spatial  configuration.    196 7.3 The spaces of URCs, their elements (emphasis added  to potentials for multifunctionality) and spatial  composition.    206 7.4 Conflicts and synergies found in and between the  elements of the networks and open spaces in the  URC. 211 8.1 Participants in the workshop by selection procedure,  level of expertise and discipline.    235 8.2 Distribution of the participants in the teams of  Colentina (C1-C4) and Dâmbovița (D1-D4), by level of  expertise and disciplinary background.    235 8.3 Evaluation response rate (percentage of a total of 32  participants).    241 8.4 Data sources used to analyse and interpret the  workshop results.    241 8.5 Evaluation of the Connector by the workshop  participants. 243 List of Tables TOC 18 Integrated Urban River Corridors 8.6 Evaluation of the Sponge by the participants after the  workshop.    245 8.7 Evaluation of the Integrator by the participants after the  workshop.    247 8.8 Evaluation of the Scaler by the workshop  participants. 249 8.9 Summary of the scores and level of agreement on the  ease of use and usefulness of the four instruments.    250 8.10 Suggestions for improvement applicable to all  instruments.    255 9.1 Sub-questions and objectives addressed in the chapters  of Part 1.    258 9.2 The key properties of URCs identified in the  transdisciplinary literature review presented in Chapter  2. 259 9.3 The main problems and potentials of the URCs of  Bucharest, as identified in the expert interviews.    260 9.4 Sub-questions and objectives addressed in the chapters  of Part 2.    261 9.5 Sub-questions and objectives addressed in the chapters  of Part 3.    262 9.6 The three components of the theory of  social-ecologically integrated URCs advanced in the  thesis. 264 TOC 19  List of Figures List of Figures 1.1 Examples of urban river transformations around the  world: Isar River, Munich (top); the Cheonggyecheon  Stream, Seoul (middle left); Kallang River, Bishan Park,  Singapore (middle right); ‘Paris Plages’ on the Seine  (bottom). Sources: restorerivers.eu/wiki/ (top); Seoul  Metropolitan Government (middle left); Ramboll Studio  Dreiseitl (middle right); Peter Haas via Wikimedia  Commons (bottom).    38 1.2 Large Urban Zones (LUZ) in Europe classified according  to their position in the river network: crossed by rivers  (red); on the coast (dark grey), and not crossed or  bordered by water (light grey). In this classification,  river-crossed cities represent the highest percentage (60,3%). This percentage is even higher if coastal cities  in delta or estuarine locations are considered. Data source: EEA Urban Atlas (UA), EEA European Catchment  and River Network System (ECRINS) data.    39 1.3 River Tietê bordered by Avenida Marginal Tietê in São  Paulo. Photo credit: Reginaldo Bianco.    41 1.4 The rising water of the Danube approaching the centre of Budapest on 8 June 2013. Photo credit: AP Photo/ MTI, Sandor Ujvari.    42 1.5 Channelized Los Angeles River. Photo credit:  Downtowngal on Wikimedia.org.    43 1.6 The Adaptive Cycle (left, Folke et al., 2010) and the  Panarchy model (right, Gunderson & Holling, 2002).  Source: Resilience Alliance. Retrieved from: https:// www.resalliance.org/glossary (Accessed: 1 August  2018).    46 1.7 Conceptual framework: social-ecologically integrated  urban river corridors as a normative concept at the  intersection of the theoretical fields of social-ecological  resilience and urban form resilience and the  analytical domains of landscape ecology and spatial  morphology.    51 1.8 Possible, probable and desirable futures, as depicted by  Taeke de Jong (2012, pp. 16–17).    53 1.9 Research design diagram.    56 1.10 Diagram of the exploratory concurrent mixed methods design used in the research (bottom), adapted  from Creswell's (2014) exploratory sequential  mixed-methods design (top).    58 1.11 Visual outline of the thesis (theoretical chapters in grey,  empirical chapters in light blue).    61 2.1 The use of key terms related to riverside urban  transformation in general literature between  1940-2008. Source: Google ngram viewer (Accessed: 2  August 2017)    69 2.2 Urban River Corridors are coupled systems. Their  qualities must be understood as mutually beneficial  for the river valley and the urban fabric. For instance,  accessibility of the waterfront can be expressed also  in terms of permeability of the surrounding urban  fabric. 86 2.3 Illustration of the spatial-morphological definition of  URCs. 87 2.4 The spectrum of scales specific to URCs.    88 2.5 Proposed method for the spatial delineation of the URC,  its segments and the river space.    89 3.1 The Dutch Layers Approach. Illustration based on van Schaick and Klaasen’s review of the Dutch model  (2011). Source:  De Hoog, Sijmons & Verschuuren,  1998, cited in van Schaick & Klaasen, 2011.    92 3.2 The hydrographic context of Bucharest: (a) at the  scale of Argeș Catchment Basin; and (b) at the scale  of Bucharest crossed by River Dâmbovița and River  Colentina, as depicted in an illustration of the relief inside the rail ring by Cincinat Sfințescu (1931). Data  sources: (a) OpenStreetMap and SRTM DEM underlay;  (b) traced after Sfințescu,1931.    93 3.3 Fragment from the Szathmári’s Map of Southern  Romania (1864) showing the regional context of  Bucharest in the middle of the 19th century. Source:  Szathmári, 1864, map sheet No. 77, in Bartos-Elekes,  Z. (2015). The Habsburg mapping of Moldavia and  Walachia. Retrieved from https://icaci.org/files/ documents/ICC_proceedings/ICC2015/papers/18/ fullpaper/T18-696_1428396969.pdf    96 3.4 The Romanian Plain and its subdivisions. Source:  Comănescu, Nedelea & Stănoiu, 2017.    97 3.5 The project for the regularisation and canalisation of  River Dâmbovița (1879) by Grigore Cerchez. Source:  Georgescu et al., 1966. 98 3.6 Dâmbovița before (A, 18th/17th c.) and after (B; C, 1927)  regularisation and canalisation. Source: Comănescu,  Nedelea & Stănoiu, 2017.    99 3.7 The transformation of the urban fabric in the centre of  Bucharest form the natural state (left) of Dâmbovița,  through canalization (centre) and to its current state  (right). Two major transformations can be observed:  (1) the urban fabric became more fragmented and the  river valley more constrained; and (2) the number of  crossings decreased from 11 to 7 to 4, the latter being  exclusively used by car traffic. Basemaps: Borroczyn  map (1852, left), cadastral map (1911, middle), Google  satellite map (2015, right).    100 List of Figures TOC 20 Integrated Urban River Corridors 3.8 The administrative area of Bucharest in 1911 and,  highlighted with blue, canalised River Dâmbovița  crossing the city centre, and the valley of River Colentina  visible in the northeast. Source: Serviciul Geografic al  Armatei on Wikimedia Commons.    101 3.9 The proposal for Bucharest’s green belt. Source:  Sfințescu, 1931.    103 3.10 Beaches on the lakes of Colentina during the years of  Communism. Source: Tudora & Stan, 2015.    105 3.11 The new cross section of Dâmbovița. Source: Stematiu  & Teodorescu, 2012. 105 3.12 The plan of Bucharest’s centre showing the extent of  demolitions for the new Civic Centre. Source: Harhoiu,  1997. 106 3.13 Photo of the monumental axis of the new Civic Centre.  Source: fotografieaeriana.eu.    107 3.14 The transformation of the lower course of rivers Argeș  and Dâmbovița. Source: Avădanei, 2012.    107 3.15 The management scheme of Argeș River Basin. Source:  Zaharia et al., 2016. 108 3.16 Synoptic scheme of the flood protection system of  Bucharest. Source: Stematiu & Teodorescu, 2012.    109 3.17 Variation of mean monthly flow on Dâmbovița in  natural (black) and regulated (white) regime. Source:  Cocoș, 2006.    109 4.1 Detail from the General Urban Plan (GUP) in the centre  of Bucharest. Dâmbovița does not have a separate  territorial reference unit (TRU). Source: Municipality  of Bucharest. Retreived from: http://www.pmb.ro/ servicii/urbanism/pug/pug.php (Accessed: 28 January,  2018).    115 4.2 Two comprehensive studies carried out as ZUPs  complementary to the GUP: (top) ‘Dâmbovița  structuring axis’ (‘Dâmbovița axă structurantă’ in  Romanian; Filipeanu et al., 2000) and (bottom) ‘ZUP  for the lake area on River Colentina’ (‘PUZ zona lacurilor  râului Colentina’ in Romanian; Fulicea, 1999).    117 4.3 Diagram of the data collection and analysis  process. 117 4.4 (a) The current functions of Dâmbovița (D_FCT)  according to the experts. (b) Agreement on general  statements about River Dâmbovița. (c) Map of  meaningful places on River Dâmbovița mentioned by  the experts (green = positive remark; red = negative  remark; yellow = mention).    122 4.5 Summary of the content analysis of problems (red) and  potentials (orange) of River Dâmbovița.    123 4.6 Iconic perspective along the central segment of River  Dâmbovița. Photo credit: Alexandru Mexi.    124 4.7 Canalised (left) and cramped (right) River Dâmbovița.  Source: mariciu.ro (left); b365.ro (right).    124 4.8 River Dâmbovița during an event at the National Library,  one of the few used public spaces. Photo credit: Cristian  Vasile, IGU.ro.    126 4.9 The Integrated Urban Development Plan for the Central  Area proposes public space routes crossing the river. Besides two bridges and the transformation of a small  central segment, the plan does not develop Dâmbovița  longitudinally. Source: Synergetic Corporation et  al. Retreived from http://www.centralbucuresti.ro  (Accessed: 1 August 2018).    128 4.10 Dâmbovița Smart River, a bottom-up project on River  Dâmbovița. Source: Dâmbovița Smart River. Retreived  from https://expertforum.ro/smart-river/ (Accessed: 1  August 2018).    128 4.11 (a) The current functions of Colentina (C_FCT)  according to the experts. (b) Agreement on general  statements about River Colentina. (c) Map of  meaningful places on River Colentina mentioned by the  experts (green = positive remark; red = negative remark;  yellow = mention).    129 4.12 Summary of the content analysis of problems (red) and  potentials (orange) of River Colentina.    130 4.13 Inaccessible (foreground) and fragmented (background)  lake shores on River Colentina. Photo credit: Claudiu  Forgaci. 131 4.14 Artificial edge and low water on Lake Herăstrău. Photo  credit: Claudiu Forgaci.    132 4.15 View from the green lake shore towards the collective  housing neighbourhoods in Fundeni. Photo credit:  Claudiu Forgaci. 134 5.1 The structure of the indicator system used for the  assessment, represented on Gil and Duarte’s (2013)  hierarchical levels of sustainable urban development  tools. The transitions between different stages of  definition and interpretation are also included in the  diagram. Based on: Gil & Duarte, 2013.    147 5.2 Diagram of the assessment framework built on the four  properties of URCs: connectivity, spatial capacity, and their subdivisions as the categories used to structure the indicator system (in orange), social and ecological  categories confronted under integration (in blue), and  the spectrum of scales focused on the corridor and  corridor segment under the property of multiscalarity (in green).    148 5.3 Example of a mirrored assessment chart, summarizing  social-ecological integration assessment on the scale  of a corridor segment. Fields with ‘+’ mark areas of  intervention towards the minimum desirable goal.    155 6.1 The delineation of URC Dâmbovița and its  segments.    160 6.2 Accessibility from public transport stops (A.1.2.1c  Accessibility – visitors), as an example of a connectivity  indicator applied on URC Dâmbovița and detailed on  corridor segment CS03.    164 TOC 21  List of Figures 6.3 Summary of three-dimensional connectivity  assessment.    165 6.4 Visual permeability - % of visible river space (B.1.2.1a),  as an example of a spatial capacity indicator applied  on URC Dâmbovița and detailed on corridor segment  CS03. 167 6.5 Summary of spatial capacity assessment.    168 6.6 The assessment of social-ecological integration for  segment CS03: category-level assessment (left);  social-ecological integration assessment (right).  Potentials for integration are marked with a coloured  ‘+’ or a grey ‘+’, representing potentials above the  minimum desirable goal.     170 6.7 Comparison of the actual (grey fill) and potential  (dotted outline) social-ecological integration of the  nine corridor segments and the emerging typology of  potential social-ecological integration. 171 6.8 The delineation of URC Colentina and its segments.    172 6.9 Network accessibility (A.1.2.1a) along URC Colentina  with a detail of CS04, in which Lake and Park Herăstrău  are located. 174 6.10 Green space coverage (B.2.3.1b) along URC Colentina,  with a detail of corridor segment CS04, in which Lake  and Park Herăstrău are located (highest coverage in the  URC), and CS08, the corridor segment of Lake Fundeni  (lowest coverage).    175 7.1 Public space, as depicted in a detail of the 1748 map of  Rome made by Giambattista Nolli. Source: Wikimedia  Commons.    183 7.2 Ecological space, as shown in The Woodlands, Texas,  USA, an ecologically designed community development  plan based on Ian McHarg’s design-with-nature  concept. Source: Wallace et al., 1974, cited in Yang, Li,  & Li, 2013.    184 7.3 High-speed road network along River Tietê in Sao Paulo.  Source: 3D view from Google maps.    188 7.4 The Strategy of the two Networks (Tjallingii, 2005,  2015). Source: Tjallingii, 2015.    189 7.5 ‘Water’ (in red) and ‘asphalt’ (in black), the main  structural elements of Città Diffusa, as depicted in a  detail map of Paola Viganò et al. Source: Viganò, 2009b;  Viganò et al., 2016.    190 7.6 Three landscape ecological principles as depicted by  Dramstad et al. (1996). (a) The "cluster of stepping  stones"  (Dramstad et al., 1996, p. 38). In an urban  context, this diagram resembles the fragmented  patches of open space found within the continuous urban fabric (the white space in this diagram), patches  that connect to the continuous landscape outside the city. (b) The “ladder-pattern” is a principle specific to  river corridors (Dramstad et al., 1996, p. 39). Just like  in a natural context, as illustrated in this diagram, the  alternation of built and open spaces may be sufficient  to provide a hydrological sponge. (c) The principle "edge  abruptness" describes how the abruptness/softness of  a habitat edge influences movement along and across  an edge (Dramstad et al., 1996, p. 29). This principle  may be applied to an urban river edge: the harder the  edge is, the weaker the interaction between the river  and people is, and vice versa. Source: Dramstad et al.,  1996. 192 7.12 Photographic samples of URC network elements: (1)  Lea River in London; (2) bypass between Lea River  and Thames, London; (3) former meanders, Limmat  River, Zurich; (4) disconnected Tributary Rotte River  from Maas River, Rotterdam; (5) detail of Lea River  system: bypass and confluence with Thames; (6)  channelized and covered Senne River, Bruxelles; (7)  former meanders visible within the city structure,  Danube in Vienna; (8) uncovered and redesigned  Cheonggyecheon River, Seoul; (9) major traffic lines  along the river, Manzanares River, Madrid; (10)   secondary road network along Canal Saint-Martin,  Paris; (11) desire paths, Isar River, Munich; (12) former  bridge trajectory, missing and planned connection,  Someș River, Cluj-Napoca; (13) road network following  Channelized Senne, Bruxelles; (14) access road,  Someș River, Cluj-Napoca; (15) green and pedestrian  connections on Leutchenbach River, Zurich; (16) slow  mobility network and ecological connections along  and across Elster Millrace River, Leipzig; (17) GBI and  ecological connections, Limmat River, Zurich; (18)  green Corridor, Isar River, Munich; (19) parking space,  non-vegetated, Don River, Sheffiled; (20) sealed  surfaces along channelized Senne River, Bruxelles; (21)  patches as stepping stone, Limmat River, Zurich; (22)  green corridor and river park, Danube River, Budapest;  (23) brownfields, non-vegetated space on Someș River,  Cluj-Napoca; (24) sealed surfaces along channelized  Senne River, Bruxelles. Sources: Google Earth; Burgos,  Garrido, Porras-Isla, Muller, & Matthews, 2014;  Prominski et al., 2017.    197 7.13 Diagram of the Interconnectedness principle on the scale of the URC (top), corridor segment (middle), and  river space (bottom).    199 7.14 The project for the bypass channel on River Waal in  Nijmegen: general Room for the River principles (top),  plan of the transformation (middle), aerial perspective  (bottom). Sources: ruimtevoorderivier.nl. Retreived  from: https://www.ruimtevoorderivier.nl/english/  (Accessed: 1 August 2018).    201 7.15 River Manzanares before and after the Madrid Río  project. Source: eoi.es. Retreived from: http://www. eoi.es/blogs/imsd/project-management-rio-ma- drid-project/ (Accessed: 1 August 2018).    202 TOC 22 Integrated Urban River Corridors 7.16 The Water Square Benthemplein in Rotterdam, the  Netherlands, is designed as an urban public space that can also store storm water during extreme rainfall.  Photo credit: Jeroen Musch.    203 7.20 Photographic samples of open space elements: (1)  sidewalk and fish leader, Regen River, Regensburg; (2)  beach spaces and public space on Isar River, Munich;  (3) downgraded road, shared space and public space,  Paris Plages project, Seine River, Paris; (4) sidewalk  and beach on downgraded road, Paris Plages project,  Seine River, Paris; (5) water square and slow mobility  networks, Don River, Sheffield;  (6) access point to the  water, Limmat River, Zurich; (7) parks and public space  on top of buried highway, Manzanares River, Madrid;  (8) parks and public space, from industrial purposed  waterway to urban river, Wupper River, Wuppertal;  (9) vegetated river banks and (10) water storage park,  wetlands on Besos River, Barcelona; (11) private  gardens and semi-private garages towards Someș River,  Cluj-Napoca; (12) vegetated traffic island, Limmat  River, Zurich; (13) recreational river space (event field,  camping, sidewalk and park) on Limmat River, Zurich;  (14) green river bank and slow mobility on Don River,  Sheffield; (15) private and semi-private river bank  with ecological potential, Someș River, Cluj-Napoca;  (16) vegetated traffic stepping stone, Danube River,  Vienna; (17) water space, Limmat River, Zurich; (18)  new river meanders, Kallang River, Singapore; (19)  floodable pathway, Regen River, Regensburg; (20)  river restoration growing ecological and public space potentials, Besos River, Barcelona; (21) restored river  wetlands and places for social activities, Yongning River,  Taizou; (22) water squares, Manzanares River, Madrid;  (23) floodable pathway, Seine River,  Choisy-le-rois;  (24) uncovered and redesigned water space of  Cheonggyecheon River, Seoul. Sources: Google Earth;  Burgos et al., 2014; Prominski et al., 2017.    207 7.21 Diagram of the principle of Absorptive Capacity on the scale of the corridor (top), corridor segment (middle),  and river space (bottom).    209 7.22 In their study of Albano Campus in Stockholm, entitled  “Principles of Social-Ecological Urbanism”, Barthel et  al. (2013) identify design components that can improve  ecosystem services and urban system services. Source:  Barthel et al., 2013. 210 7.24 Social-ecological integration: synergies (in green) and  conflicts (in red) among and across the elements of  Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity. 213 7.25 Frames from the film Powers of Ten (1977) by  Charles and Ray Eames. Source: Icon Magazine.  Retrieved from https://www.iconeye.com/opinion/ icon-of-the-month/item/9949-powers-of-ten  (Accessed June 30, 2018).    215 7.26 The levels of a hierarchy in which upper levels constrain  lower levels and lower levels provide detail. Redrawn from: Turner & Gardner (2015).    216 7.30 Continuum of scales of constraints, focus, and  components in relation to the scalar framework of URCs  defined in Section 2.3: (1) the catchment for the river  system and the metropolitan area for the urban system;  (2) the urban river corridor and the corridor segment;  (3) the river space and the site representing typical  scales of detail. 219 7.31 The four design principles proposed in the thesis (right), as derived from the four key properties of URCs  (left).    221 8.1 The design instruments developed in this chapter  (bottom right), represented in relation to the  spatial-morphological definition of URCs introduced  in Section 2.3 (Figure 2.3): The Connector (in red);  the Sponge (in green); the Integrator (in yellow); and  the Scaler (in blue), including spatial scales (s) and  temporal scales (t).    224 8.2 Diagram of the instruments applied in the design  process in two stages: revealing and relating the  elemenets of the URC. Thick lines represent the  moment of focus on the instrument, thick dotted  lines represent potential iterations on the instrument  together with the instrument from the same stage, thin  dotted lines represent the implicit involvement of the  instrument in the design process.    225 8.3 The design instrument Connector and the key elements  of the traffic network (T1-T4), water network (R1-R4),  and ecological network (E1-E4), illustrated in a generic  URC segment.    227 8.4 The design instrument Sponge and the key elements  of social (public) space (P1-P4), water space (W1-W4),  and ecological (green) space (G1-G4), illustrated in a  generic URC segment.    228 8.5 The design instrument Integrator addressing conflicts  (C1-C3) and synergies (S1-S3), illustrated in a generic  URC segment.    229 8.7 The spectrum of scales of constraint, focus, and  components used by the design instrument  Sponge. 232 8.8 The Scaler reflects on the spatial (S) and temporal (T)  scalar framework of the design project by referring  to the spatial-morphological definition of URCs.  It considers two large-scale constraints, the river catchment (S1), the metropolitan area (S2), and two  different conditions at the scale of the river space (S3  and S4) corresponding to the Connector and the Sponge. In addition, two temporal scales reveal the historical  patterns of urban morphology in relation to the river  valley (T1), and past river corridor dynamics (T2).    233 8.9 Workshop process (For a detailed calendar, see  Appendix H).    236 8.10 Pages from the site visit handout with the route and  the assignment given during the site visit on URC  Colentina. 236 8.11 Seminar on the Day 3 of the workshop. Photo credit:  Sebastian Apostol. 237 TOC 23  List of Figures 8.12 The handouts containing the theoretical introduction and instructions for the daily instrument training  sessions (see example of a handout in Appendix I).    238 8.13 Base maps used for the application of the Connector and the Sponge (left) and for the Integrator (right) on site D3  (See this example enlarged in Appendix J).     238 8.14 The collage exercise (top left) and Scale up! session  (bottom left and right). Photo credits: Sebastian Apostol  (left, top), Lucian Ștefan Călugărescu (left, bottom),  Johanna Jacob (right).    239 8.15 The Connector applied on site C1-Lake Grivița:  individual attempts (left and right), followed by a  common drawing (centre).    242 8.16 The difficulty of applying the three functions of the  instrument Connector, as perceived by the workshop  participants. 243 8.17 Two examples of how the Sponge was applied: team  D4, Lake Văcărești (left) and team C2, Lake Herăstrău  (right).    244 8.18 The difficulty of applying the three functions of the  instrument Sponge, as perceived by the workshop  participants. 245 8.19 An example of how the Integrator was used to overlap the Connector and the Sponge on a base map of  geomorphology – Lake Grivița, team C1.    246 8.20 The difficulty of applying the three functions of the  instrument Integrator, as perceived by the workshop  participants. 247 8.21 The Scaler applied by team C3 – Lake Fundeni.    248 8.22 The difficulty of applying the three functions of the  instrument Scalar, as perceived by the participants after  the workshop.    249 8.23 Ranking of the four instruments according to the  preference of the respondents. 1 represents the highest preference and 4 represents the lowest preference in the rank order.    250 8.24 The order of the instruments as proposed by the  participants. 251 8.25 The projects “From Barrier to Link” by team D2 on URC  Dâmbovița and “Amphibious Communities of Lake  Fundeni” by team C3 on URC Colentina, selected by the  Jury as the best projects in the workshop.    253 8.26 “Linking Park” (site D4), voted as the best projects by  the workshop participants, as well as by the public and  the guests invited to the final presentation.        254 9.1 The urbanization of Bucharest can be interpreted in two ways: as radial-concentric pattern structured by  the traffic network (left) or as a stacked linear pattern  structured by rivers (right). Source: Forgaci, 2013.  Drawing traced on Urban Atlas data. 272 TOC 24 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 25  List of abbreviations List of abbreviations CAS    Complex Adaptive System CAQDAS  Computer Assisted Qualitative Data Analysis Software CEE    Central and Eastern Europe CS      Corridor Segment BSC2035  Bucharest Strategic Concept 2035 (CSB2035 in Romanian) DEM    Digital Elevation Model EEA    European Environment Agency ES      Ecosystem Services FUA Functional Urban Area GBI Green and Blue Infrastructure GI Green Infrastructure GIS    Geographic Information System GUP    General Urban Plan (PUG in Romanian) LUZ    Larger Urban Zone MEA    Millennium Ecosystem Assessment OSM    OpenStreetMap PPA    Problem-Potential Analysis QDA    Qualitative Data Analysis RBD River Basin District SER    Social-Ecological Resilience SES    Social-Ecological System TEEB    The Economics of Ecosystems and Biodiversity TRU Territorial Reference Unit UA Urban Atlas URC Urban River Corridor VGI Volunteered Geographic Information WFD    Water Framework Directive WSUD   Water Sensitive Urban Design ZUP    Zonal Urban Plan (PUZ in Romanian) TOC 26 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 27  Summary Summary This thesis focuses on Urban River Corridors (URCs) as spaces of social-ecological integration par excellence—that is, spaces where the interaction between the urban systems (carrying the ‘social-’)  and the river system (carrying the ‘-ecological’) is (potentially) the most intense. The general  hypothesis is that with an integrated spatial understanding, planning and design of rivers and  the urban fabric surrounding them, cities could become more resilient, not just to flood-related  disturbances, but to general chronic stresses as well. Hence, the thesis addresses a number of spatial  problems arising from the loss of synergy between the natural dynamics of rivers and the spatial  configuration and composition of urban areas that they cross, namely: the relationship between fluvial  geomorphology and urban morphology weakened by river-taming operations; the physical barrier  caused by riverside vehicular traffic; the latent flood risk built up through resistance-based flood- protection measures; the diminished capacity of urban rivers to provide ecosystem services; and the  reduced scalar, (and implicitly) social and ecological complexity of urban rivers after rationalisation. Drawing on theories of social-ecological resilience and urban form resilience, on conceptual and  analytical tools from the fields of spatial morphology and landscape ecology, and on explorations  through urban river design projects, the thesis departs from the research question “How can social-ecological integration be spatially defined, assessed and designed in Urban River Corridors?” Accordingly, it constructs a theory of social-ecologically integrated Urban River Corridors, in which it proposes a spatial-morphological definition, an assessment framework, and a set of design principles and design instruments. These three components of the theory represent the descriptive, analytical,  and normative claims advanced in the research, respectively. The thesis employs a mixed methods  research strategy that combines methods of both quantitative and qualitative nature as part of a  transdisciplinary design study approach. As the object of the design study, the case of Bucharest  crossed by URC Dâmbovița and URC Colentina is used to contextualise the spatial-morphological  definition, and to demonstrate, develop and test the proposed assessment framework and design  principles, with a distinct set of methods in each of the three parts of the thesis. The first part places URCs in a wider theoretical and empirical context. A transdisciplinary literature  review is carried out to distil environmental-ecological, social-economic, planning-governance and  spatial-morphological knowledge into four key properties of URCs—connectivity, open space amenity, integration and multiscalarity—and to adopt a method of URC delineation. A historical overview of  Bucharest’s URCs and a qualitative data analysis of 22 expert interviews is conducted to describe the  past dynamics and the current state of URC Dâmbovița and URC Colentina. The history of the two  rivers shows a process of radical transformation from a flooding and dynamic river valley to a canalised  stream and cramped urban space (River Dâmbovița) and from a pestilential wetland to a succession  of lakes and parks designated as a metropolitan recreational area (River Colentina). In the expert  interviews addressing the current state of the two URCs, Dâmbovița was described as inaccessible,  disruptive, unattractive and artificial from both social and ecological point of view, but also, in terms  of potentials, as a major axis of urban development and potentially the largest public space of the  city. URC Colentina, as revealed in the analysis of the expert interviews, is currently inaccessible  and fragmented by lakeside privatisation and it lacks cohesion due to contrasting social and spatial  peripheral conditions. Yet, most experts considered that it is potentially the largest recreational space  and green corridor in the metropolitan area of Bucharest. TOC 28 Integrated Urban River Corridors Based on the spatial-morphological definition of URCs and on existing approaches to assessing urban  rivers, the second part of the thesis develops an assessment framework, that is, a structured indicator  system and a method for the assessment of social-ecological integration. The indicator system is  structured in a hierarchy of social and ecological categories under connectivity (longitudinal, lateral,  and vertical connectivity) and spatial capacity (spatial diversity, quality and composition). The method  of assessment confronts values given by indicators from corresponding categories (e.g. social lateral  connectivity with ecological lateral connectivity) in a mirrored social-ecological assessment chart and  highlights areas of potential for improved social-ecological integration on the scales of the corridor  and the corridor segment. Informed by the key problems and potentials derived from the analysis of  the expert interviews, a complete assessment is carried out on URC Dâmbovița and a demonstration of  wider application is given on URC Colentina. Corridor-segment assessment shows that URC Dâmbovița  currently has a high-to-medium longitudinal connectivity, medium-to-low lateral connectivity  and low vertical connectivity, as well as a medium spatial diversity and quality, and a medium- to-high spatial composition. The social-ecological profile of URC Dâmbovița highlights potential  improvements on the ecological dimension for centrally located corridor segments and a potential  increase in spatial diversity and composition on the social dimension in peripheral segments. The  application of the assessment framework to different site conditions is briefly demonstrated on  URC Colentina with an indicator of street network accessibility (also used in the assessment of URC  Dâmbovița) and green space coverage (specific to URC Colentina). Building on principles of urban and landscape design and informed by design explorations through  four urban river projects carried out by the author, the last part of the thesis develops four design  principles, namely Interconnectedness, Absorptive Capacity, Social-Ecological Integration, and Interscalarity, derived from the key properties specified in the spatial-morphological definition  of URCs. Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity are principles that guide the design of elements found in the networks and open spaces of the URC, while Social-Ecological Integration and Interscalarity reveal systemic and scalar relations among those elements. Finally, the design  principles are translated into four corresponding design instruments—the Connector, the Sponge, the Integrator and the Scaler—, meant to aid designers in building social-ecologically integrated URCs. A  design workshop organised in Bucharest is employed to demonstrate and test the use of the design  instruments in the design process and their impact on the design projects. The workshop participants  evaluated the design instruments as overall useful and easy to use, but also gave valuable suggestions  for improvements in their application in the design process. The thesis concludes with a reflection on theoretical, methodological and practical implications of the  research. By drawing parallels between the spatial-morphological definition, assessment and design  of URCs, on the one hand, and the spatial properties and models of social-ecological resilience, on the  other hand, it argues that social-ecologically integrated URCs have a potentially positive impact on  general urban resilience. This last part discusses challenges and opportunities of the transdisciplinary  design study approach and the mixed methodology, gives possible usage scenarios for the assessment  framework and design instruments, and reflects on the wider applicability of the research for urban  and landscape design beyond the case of Bucharest. TOC 29  Samenvatting Samenvatting Dit proefschrift gaat over Urban River Corridors (URC’s, ‘stadsriviercorridors’) als ruimten van sociaal- ecologische integratie bij uitstek, dat wil zeggen ruimten waarin de interactie tussen de stedelijke  systemen (het sociale aspect) en het riviersysteem (het ecologische aspect) in werkelijkheid of in  potentie het meest intens is. De algemene hypothese is dat, wanneer we een geïntegreerd ruimtelijk  begrip hebben van rivieren en hun stedelijke omgeving, steden zodanig kunnen worden gepland  en ontworpen dat ze beter bestand zijn tegen overstromingen en soortgelijke verstoringen, maar  ook tegen algemene chronische problemen. Het proefschrift behandelt een aantal ruimtelijke  problemen die voortkomen uit het verlies van synergie tussen de natuurlijke dynamiek van rivieren  en de ruimtelijke configuratie en samenstelling van stedelijke gebieden die ze doorkruisen, een  verlies dat tot uiting komt in de volgende zaken: de verzwakte relatie tussen de geomorfologie van  rivieren en stedelijke morfologie, veroorzaakt door maatregelen om de rivier te temmen; de fysieke  barrière veroorzaakt door voertuigverkeer langs de rivier; het latente overstromingsrisico dat door  beschermingsmaatregelen groter is geworden; het verminderde vermogen van stedelijke rivieren  om aan het ecosysteem bij te dragen; en de verminderde scalaire, en dus ook sociale en ecologische  complexiteit van stedelijke rivieren nadat ze aan de stedelijke omgeving zijn aangepast. Met als uitgangspunt theorieën over sociaal-ecologische veerkracht en veerkracht van de stedelijke  vorm, conceptuele en analytische hulpmiddelen uit de ruimtelijke morfologie en landschapsecologie,  en onderzoek naar ontwerpprojecten voor stedelijke rivieren, is de onderzoeksvraag van het  proefschrift: “Hoe kan sociaal-ecologische integratie ruimtelijk worden gedefinieerd, beoordeeld en ont-worpen voor Urban River Corridors?” Hiervoor wordt een theorie van sociaal-ecologisch geïntegreerde Urban River Corridors geconstrueerd,  met een voorstel voor een ruimtelijk-morfologische definitie, een beoordelingskader en een verzameling ontwerpprincipes en ontwerpinstrumenten. Deze drie componenten van de theorie  representeren respectievelijk de descriptieve, analytische en normatieve beweringen die in het  onderzoek worden gedaan. Het proefschrift maakt gebruik van een onderzoeksstrategie met  gemengde methoden, zowel kwantitatieve als kwalitatieve, als onderdeel van een transdisciplinaire  aanpak van ontwerponderzoek. Als object van het ontwerponderzoek wordt de casus van Boekarest  met de URC’s Dâmboviţa en Colentina gebruikt om de ruimtelijk-morfologische definitie van een  context te voorzien, en om het voorgestelde beoordelingskader en ontwerpprincipes te tonen, te  ontwikkelen en te testen, met verschillende methoden in elk van de drie delen van het proefschrift:  kwalitatieve data-analyse van expertinterviews (deel 1), een indicatorsysteem en een methode om  sociaal-ecologische integratie te beoordelen (deel 2), en een ontwerpworkshop (deel 3). In het eerste deel worden URC’s in een bredere theoretische en empirische context geplaatst. Door  middel van een transdisciplinair literatuuronderzoek wordt milieu-ecologische, sociaal-economische,  plannings-/bestuurs- en ruimtelijk-morfologische kennis gedistilleerd voor vier belangrijke  eigenschappen van URC’s (connectiviteit, open-ruimtevoordelen, integratie en multiscalariteit),  en wordt er een methode vastgesteld om de grenzen van URC’s te bepalen. Er wordt een historisch  overzicht van de URC’s van Boekarest gegeven en er wordt, bij gebrek aan uitgebreide literatuur over  recente stedelijke transformaties, een kwalitatieve data-analyse van 22 expertinterviews uitgevoerd  om de vroegere dynamiek en de huidige staat van de URC’s Dâmboviţa en Colentina te beschrijven.  De geschiedenis van de twee rivieren toont een proces van radicale transformatie van een dynamische  TOC 30 Integrated Urban River Corridors riviervallei met overstromingen tot een gekanaliseerde stroom en een krappe stedelijke ruimte (de  Dâmboviţa), en van een rottend moerasland tot een serie meren en parken die zijn aangewezen als  grootstedelijk recreatiegebied (de Colentina). In de expertinterviews over de huidige toestand van  de twee URC’s werd de Dâmboviţa beschreven als ontoegankelijk, verstorend, onaantrekkelijk en  kunstmatig, vanuit zowel sociaal als ecologisch oogpunt, maar ook, in termen van potentieel, als  een belangrijke as van stedelijke ontwikkeling, en potentieel de grootste publieke ruimte van de  stad. De Colentina, zo bleek uit de analyse van de expertinterviews, is momenteel ontoegankelijk  en gefragmenteerd door privatisering van de oevers van de meren, en mist cohesie als gevolg van  contrasterende sociale en ruimtelijke omstandigheden aan de randen van de URC. Toch waren de  meeste experts van mening dat het potentieel de grootste recreatieve ruimte en groene corridor in het  metropoolgebied van Boekarest is. Op basis van de ruimtelijk-morfologische definitie van URC’s en bestaande benaderingen  voor het beoordelen van stedelijke rivieren, wordt in het tweede deel van het proefschrift een  beoordelingskader ontwikkeld, dat wil zeggen een gestructureerd indicatorsysteem en een  methode voor de beoordeling van sociaal-ecologische integratie bij URC’s. Het indicatorsysteem  is gestructureerd in een hiërarchie van sociale en ecologische categorieën van connectiviteit  (longitudinale, laterale en verticale connectiviteit), en van ruimtelijke eigenschappen (ruimtelijke  diversiteit, kwaliteit en samenstelling). Bij de beoordelingsmethode worden waarden bij indicatoren  uit overeenkomstige categorieën (bijvoorbeeld sociale laterale connectiviteit met ecologische laterale  connectiviteit) tegenover elkaar gezet in een gespiegelde sociaal-ecologische beoordelingsgrafiek,  en worden gebieden aangeduid die potentieel hebben voor verbeterde sociaal-ecologische integratie op de schaal van de corridor en van het corridorsegment. Naar aanleiding van de belangrijkste  problemen en kansen die zijn afgeleid uit de analyse van de expertinterviews, wordt een volledige  beoordeling uitgevoerd voor URC Dâmboviţa en wordt er een demonstratie gegeven van een bredere  toepassing voor de URC Colentina. Beoordeling van corridorsegmenten toont aan dat URC Dâmboviţa  momenteel een hoge tot middelgrote longitudinale connectiviteit heeft (doorlopende paden langs de  rivier en een gedeeltelijk verbonden netwerk van groene ruimten langs de corridor), een middelgrote  tot lage laterale connectiviteit (gemiddelde toegankelijkheid en mogelijkheid tot oversteek van de  rivier, en gedeeltelijke aanwezigheid van groene corridors in de dwarsrichting), en lage verticale  connectiviteit (slecht contact met het water), en daarnaast een middelgrote ruimtelijke diversiteit  en kwaliteit (bijvoorbeeld gemengde gebruiksmogelijkheden, zichtbaarheid van de rivierruimte),  en een gemiddelde tot hoge kwaliteit van ruimtelijke samenstelling (bijvoorbeeld een redelijke  beschikbaarheid van openbare ruimten en groene ruimten). Het sociaal-ecologische profiel van URC  Dâmbovița laat potentiële verbeteringen van de ecologische dimensie zien voor centraal gelegen  corridorsegmenten en een potentiële toename van ruimtelijke diversiteit en samenstelling op de  sociale dimensie in segmenten aan de rand. De toepassing van het beoordelingskader op verschillende  gesteldheden van de locatie wordt kort getoond voor URC Colentina, met een indicator voor toegang  vanaf het wegennet (ook gebruikt voor de beoordeling van URC Dâmboviţa) en voor de hoeveelheid  groene ruimte (specifiek voor de URC Colentina). Voortbouwend op principes van stedelijk en landschapsontwerp en gebruikmakend van door de  auteur uitgevoerd ontwerponderzoek van vier stedelijke rivierprojecten, worden in het laatste deel  van het proefschrift vier ontwerpprincipes ontwikkelt, namelijk Interconnectedness (onderlinge  verbondenheid), Absorptive Capacity (absorptievermogen), Social-Ecological Integration (sociaal- ecologische integratie) en Interscalarity (interscalariteit), afgeleid van de sleuteleigenschappen  (connectiviteit, open-ruimtevoordelen, integratie en multiscalariteit) zoals gespecificeerd in de  ruimtelijk-morfologische definitie van URC’s. Interconnectedness en Absorptive Capacity zijn  principes die bepalend zijn voor het ontwerp van elementen in de netwerken en open ruimten  van de URC, terwijl Social-Ecological Integration en Interscalarity systemische en scalaire relaties  TOC 31  Samenvatting tussen deze elementen blootleggen. Ten slotte worden de ontwerpprincipes vertaald in vier hiermee  corresponderende ontwerpinstrumenten: de Connector, de Sponge (spons), de Integrator en de Scaler (‘schaalbepaler’), die bedoeld zijn om ontwerpers te helpen bij het verbeteren van sociaal- ecologische integratie in URC’s. In een ontwerpworkshop in Boekarest werd het gebruik van de  ontwerpinstrumenten in het ontwerpproces en hun invloed op de ontwerpprojecten gedemonstreerd  en getest. De deelnemers aan de workshop beoordeelden de ontwerpinstrumenten over het algemeen  als nuttig en gebruiksvriendelijk, maar gaven ook waardevolle suggesties voor verbeteringen in de  toepassing ervan bij het ontwerpproces. Het proefschrift wordt afgesloten met een overweging van de theoretische, methodologische  en praktische implicaties van het onderzoek. Door parallellen te trekken tussen enerzijds de  ruimtelijk-morfologische definitie, beoordeling en ontwerp van URC’s, en anderzijds de ruimtelijke  eigenschappen en modellen van sociaal-ecologische veerkracht, wordt betoogd dat sociaal-ecologisch  geïntegreerde URC’s een potentieel positieve impact hebben op de algemene stedelijke veerkracht. In  dit laatste deel worden de uitdagingen en kansen van de transdisciplinaire ontwerpstudiebenadering  en de gemengde methodologie besproken, er worden mogelijke gebruiksscenario’s voor het  beoordelingskader en de ontwerpinstrumenten gegeven, en er wordt gereflecteerd op de bredere  toepasbaarheid van het onderzoek voor stedelijk en landschapsontwerp op andere locaties dan  Boekarest. TOC 32 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 33  Rezumat Rezumat Această teză are ca subiect central Coridoarele de râu urban (CRU) privite ca spații de integrare social- ecologică prin excelență, respectiv spații în care interacțiunea între sistemele urbane (reprezentând  latura sociala) și sistemul râului (reprezentând latura ecologică) este (potențial) cea mai intensă.  Ipoteza generală este că o înțelegere integrată a spațiului râurilor împreună cu țesutul urban  înconjurător conduce la o planificare și proiectare urbană mai rezilientă, atât la șocuri puternice  precum cele create de inundații, cât și la constantele stresuri cronice la care este supus orașul. Prin  urmare, teza abordează o serie de probleme spațiale rezultate din lipsa de sinergie între dinamicile  naturale ale râurilor și configurația sau compoziția spațială a zonelor urbane pe care le traversează,  respectiv: relația slăbită între geomorfologia fluvială și morfologia urbană generată de lucrări de  regularizare a râurilor; bariera fizică creată prin flancarea râului cu artere majore de trafic; riscul  latent la inundații dezvoltat prin măsuri de protecție împotriva inundațiilor; capacitatea diminuată  a râului de a furniza servicii de ecosistem; reducerea complexității scalare1  și implicit diminuarea  complexității social-ecologice a râurilor urbane ca urmare a lucrărilor de regularizare.  Bazându-se pe teorii din domeniul rezilienței social-ecologice și al rezilienței formei urbane, pe  instrumente analitice din câmpul științific al morfologiei spațiale și ecologiei peisajului și prin  proiectarea exploratorie a râurilor urbane, această teză caută răspuns la următoarea întrebare de  cercetare: Cum se poate defini, evalua și proiecta din punct de vedere spațial fenomenul de integrare social- ecologică în contextul coridoarelor de râu urban? Pentru a răspunde acestei întrebări, lucrarea construiește o teorie a coridoarelor de râu urban integrate social-ecologic, în cadrul căreia propune o definiție spațial-morfologică, o schemă de evaluare și un set de principii și instrumente de proiectare. Acestor trei componente teoretice le corespund respectiv  aserțiuni descriptive, analitice și normative generate în procesul de cercetare. Strategia de cercetare  implică o metodologie mixtă, combinând metode de natură calitativă și cantitativă în acord cu tipul  de studiu propus, respectiv o cercetare de proiectare transdisciplinară. Ca obiect al acestui studiu,  cazul Bucureștiului traversat de coridoarele râurilor Dâmbovița și Colentina este reprezentativ pentru  a contextualiza definiția spațial-morfologică și a demonstra, dezvolta și testa cadrul de evaluare  propus și principiile de proiectare printr-un set distinct de metode în fiecare din cele trei părți ale tezei:  analiză calitativă bazată pe interviuri cu experți (Partea 1); un sistem de indicatori și o metodă pentru  evaluarea integrării social-ecologice (Partea 2); o metodologie de testare a instrumentelor ce include  un workshop de proiectare urbană (Partea 3). Prima parte plasează CRU într-un context teoretic și empiric mai larg. Printr-o sinteză de literatură  trans-disciplinară sunt distilate cunoștințe din ecologie și științele mediului, de natură socială și  economică, de planificare și guvernare urbană și de natură spațial-morfologică, pentru a fi corelate  mai apoi și organizate sub patru proprietăți cheie ale CRU: connectivity (conectivitate), open space amenity (spațiu neconstruit ca resursă), integration (integrare) și multiscalarity (multiscalaritate),  generând totodată o metodă pentru delimitare spațială a CRU. Un rezumat istoric al condiției CRU ale  1  Complexitatea scalară se referă la explorarea sistemului râului, dincolo de scara problemei identificate, la mai multe scări geografice  (ex: de la scara bazinului hidrografic până la scara segmentului de râu si a detaliului de mal) pentru a-i întelege dinamicile în relație  cu geomorfologia, morfologia orașului, ecosistemele și sistemele sociale. TOC 34 Integrated Urban River Corridors Bucureștiului, în contextul absenței unui studiu de literatură elocvent care să discute transformările  urbane recente și o analiză calitativă bazată pe 22 de interviuri cu experți locali sunt utilizate pentru  a descrie atât dinamicile trecute, cât și condiția actuală a CRU Dâmbovița și Colentina. Istoria celor  două râuri arată un proces radical de transformare: de la un sistem de râu dinamic bazat pe cicluri  naturale de inundații la un fir de apă canalizat și un țesut urban încorsetat spațial (râul Dâmbovița); de  la un teren mlăștinos pestilențial la o succesiune de lacuri și parcuri proiectate ca o zonă de recreere  la nivel metropolitan (râul Colentina). Interviurile cu experții descriu starea actuală a celor două CRU.  Dâmbovița este descrisă ca fiind inaccesibilă, ca un element de ruptură, neatractivă și artificializată  atât din punct de vedere ecologic, cât și social. În același timp pare să reprezinte o resursă importantă,  fiind o axă majoră pentru dezvoltarea urbană cu potențialul de a deveni cel mai mare spațiu public al  orașului. CRU Colentina, precum a fost descrisă în interviurile cu experții, este în prezent inaccesibilă și  fragmentată spațial de privatizări ale terenurilor aflate la marginea lacurilor, pierzându-și prin urmare  coerența spațială din cauza condițiilor sociale și de periferizare, generatoare de contraste. În ciuda  acestor afirmații, majoritatea experților au considerat că poate deveni cel mai mare spațiu recreativ și  coridor verde la scara zonei metropolitane a Bucureștiului.  Bazat pe definiția spațial-morfologică a CRU și pe metodele existente angajate în analiza râurilor  urbane, a doua parte a tezei dezvoltă un cadru de evaluare, respectiv un sistem structurat de indicatori și o metodă de cuantificare a integrării social-ecologice pe CRU. Sistemul de indicatori are o structură  ierarhică, organizată pe criteriul social și ecologic în categoriile de: conectivitate (longitudinală,  laterală, verticală) și capacitate spațială (diversitatea, calitatea și compoziția spațiului). Utilizând  o schemă de evaluare în care criteriul social și ecologic sunt plasate în oglindă, această metodă  confruntă valori ale indicatorilor din categorii corespondente (ex: conectivitate socială laterală cu  conectivitate ecologică laterală), subliniind zonele cu potențial de integrare social-ecologică la  scara coridorului sau segmentului de coridor. Bazată pe problemele și potențialele derivate din  analiza interviurilor cu experții, o evaluare completă a setului de indicatori este aplicată în cazul  CRU Dâmbovița. Pentru a demonstra viabilitatea metodei dincolo de cazul Dâmboviței, metoda  este aplicată parțial și pe CRU Colentina. Evaluarea la nivelul segmentului de coridor arată că CRU  Dâmbovița are în prezent o conectivitate longitudinală medie spre ridicată (căi continue de circulație  pe margine râului și o rețea de spații verzi discontinuă de-a lungul coridorului), o conectivitate laterală  medie spre slabă (accesibilitate medie către râu și posibilități limitate de traversare a râului, prezență  parțială a coridoarelor transversale verzi), o conectivitate verticală slabă (lipsa posibilității de contact  cu apa), o diversitate și calitate spațială (prezența funcțiunilor mixte și vizibilitatea râului) de nivel  mediu  și o compoziție spațială medie spre ridicată (caracterizată de disponibilitatea moderată a  spațiilor publice și a zonelor verzi). Profilul social-ecologic a CRU Dâmbovița subliniază și sugerează potențiale soluții de îmbunătățire a  condiției ecologice pentru segmentele de coridor poziționate central, cât și potențiale soluții pentru  creșterea diversității spațiale și a compoziției urbane cu impact social, pe segmentele de coridor  localizate periferic. Pentru a demonstra aplicabilitatea acestei metode și pe alte cazuri, posibil  caracterizate de condiții diferite ale sitului, metoda acestui sistem de evaluare a fost aplicată pe CRU  Colentina, prin măsurarea indicatorului de accesibilitate a coridorului prin trama stradală (aplicat și în  cazul CRU Dâmbovița) și a indicelui de ocupare cu spații verzi (specific CRU Colentina).  În baza unor principii de proiectare urbană și amenajare a peisajului și prin proiecte exploratorii  aplicate de autor pe patru râuri urbane, ultima parte a lucrării dezvoltă patru principii de proiectare,  respectiv: Interconectedness (interconectivitate), Absorptive Capacity (capacitate de absorbție), Social- Ecological Integration (integrare social-ecologică) și Interscalarity (interscalaritate). Acestea sunt  derivate din cele patru proprietăți cheie specificate în definiția spațial-morfologică a CRU:  connectivity  (conectivitate), open space amenity (spațiu neconstruit ca resursă), integration (integrare) și  TOC 35  Rezumat multiscalarity (multiscalaritate). Interconnectedness și Absorptive Capacity sunt principii menite  să ghideze procesul de proiectare a tipurilor de elemente spațiale identificate în cadrul rețelelor (de  trafic, ecologice, hidrografice) și spațiilor libere ale CRU. În completare, Socio-Ecological Integration  și Interscalarity scot în evidență relațiile sistemice și scalare între elementele identificate. În final,  principiile sunt transformate în patru instrumente de proiectare corespondente lor: the Connector (conectorul), the Sponge (buretele), the Integrator (integratorul) și the Scaler (instrumentul scalar),  menite să ajute proiectanții și să susțină integrarea social-ecologică în procesul de proiectare a CRU.  Un workshop de proiectare organizat în București a fost utilizat ca metodă de testare a eficacității  instrumentelor în procesul de design și al impactului pe care ele îl au asupra calității proiectelor  rezultate. Participanții  la workshop au evaluat instrumentele ca fiind utile și ușor de aplicat, indicând  pe de altă parte sugestii de îmbunătățire a implementării lor în procesul de proiectare. Această teză se încheie cu o reflecție asupra implicațiilor teoretice, metodologice și practice ale  cercetării. Prin trasarea de conexiuni între definiția spațial-morfologică, evaluarea și proiectarea CRU,  pe de o parte, și proprietățile spațiale și modelele din reziliența social-ecologică, pe de altă parte,  teza susține faptul că CRU integrate social-ecologic pot avea un impact pozitiv asupra rezilienței  urbane generale. În această ultimă parte se discută provocările și oportunitățile pe care un studiu de  proiectare transdisciplinar și o metodologie mixtă le prezintă, se oferă posibile scenarii de utilizare a  schemei de evaluare și a instrumentelor de proiectare, și se reflectează asupra aplicabilității cercetării  în proiectarea urbană și a peisajului, dincolo de cazul orașului București. TOC 36 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 37 Introduction 1 Introduction § 1.1 Background There is no better way to introduce urban rivers than by acknowledging their historical significance  as prime locations for settlement. The ancient valleys of the Yellow River in China, the Tigris and  Euphrates of Mesopotamia, the Indus of today’s India and Pakistan, and the Nile of Egypt are  considered, at least in Eurasia and Africa, the cradles of civilisation. It was there, in those valleys,  where the challenge of survival in the face of seasonal floods and the necessity of maximising land  fertility prompted the first engineering works in the form of irrigation and flood control systems, dikes,  embankments and canals (Wylson, 1986). Ever since those early civilisations, rivers have enabled  important functions, such as navigation, irrigation, industrial and domestic water supply, defence, and  energy production, most of which became vital for the survival and flourish of human settlements all  over the world. Although rivers had gained cultural significance and became elements of identity in the ancient  civilisations, in time their utilitarian dimension grew stronger. Already in the Middle Ages, the river in  Western cultures “was not exploited as something pretty to look at and enjoy aesthetically”; instead,  it was used as a “principal highway, source of drinking water, and power for industry (e.g., to operate  grain or timber mills)” (Kostof, 1992, p. 40). Once “the European city emerged from medieval  limitations” during the 16th and 17th centuries and urban development swiftened in the 18th century,  rivers regained their civic importance: fortifications were replaced with promenades, parks and public  squares (Wylson, 1986, p. 12). Shortly after, the technical advances brought by industrialisation in the  19th century reversed once again the balance. From the urban waterfront as a space of civic value, as  envisioned in the Renaissance, the river was restored to a utilitarian infrastructure, either occupied by  industrial traffic and structures, or “vulnerable to re-use for inner-city highway development” (Wylson,  1986, p. 13). The ‘machinery’ built around rivers to optimise the delivery of utilitarian functions has  become more and more widespread and sophisticated. Canals, weirs, dams, culverts, sluices, ditches,  bridges, dikes, and hydroelectric stations are just a few of the technological innovations devised,  assembled and optimised to ‘adjust’ river valleys to human needs. The resistance exercised by these engineered devices on the natural dynamics of rivers has reached  a tipping point. The pressure of climate change and the growing number of flooding events have  rendered resistance-based strategies obsolete and have started the transition towards more resilient  approaches. Moreover, the social dimension—mainly concerned with public access and provision  of amenity—has been increasingly contested. Under this changing paradigm, several projects have  already been implemented worldwide. Examples include the so-called daylighting projects, such as  the Cheonggyecheon in Seoul, river restoration projects, such as the Kallang River in Singapore or the  Isar in Munich, and public space reclamation projects such as the pedestrianisation of the banks of the  Seine (Figure 1.1). What all these projects have in common is a renewed awareness of how important  rivers are for the life of the city. Some of these projects emphasize the social dimension by investing in  riverside public space, while others include ecological values as well. TOC 38 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 1.1  Examples of urban river transformations around the world: Isar River, Munich (top); the Cheonggyecheon Stream, Seoul (middle left);  Kallang River, Bishan Park, Singapore (middle right); ‘Paris Plages’ on the Seine (bottom). Sources: restorerivers.eu/wiki/ (top); Seoul Metropolitan  Government (middle left); Ramboll Studio Dreiseitl (middle right); Peter Haas via Wikimedia Commons (bottom). TOC 39  Background Today, most cities around the world are located near a river.2 In Europe (Figure 1.2), examples include  capital cities crossed by great rivers, like the Seine in Paris, the Thames in London, Tiber in Rome,  Spree in Berlin, Danube in Vienna, Bratislava and Budapest, Vistula in Warsaw, Vltava in Prague, and  Sava in Zagreb or Belgrade, but also smaller-size rivers, including the tributaries of those large rivers,  such as River Lea in London, Canal Saint-Martin in Paris,3 Ljubljanica in Ljubljana, Manzanares in  Madrid, or Dâmbovița and Colentina in Bucharest. FIGURE 1.2  Large Urban Zones (LUZ) in Europe classified according to their position in the river network: crossed by rivers (red); on the coast (dark  grey), and not crossed or bordered by water (light grey). In this classification, river-crossed cities represent the highest percentage (60,3%). This  percentage is even higher if coastal cities in delta or estuarine locations are considered. Data source: EEA Urban Atlas (UA), EEA European Catchment  and River Network System (ECRINS) data. 2  Even coastal cities are most of the times located in a river delta or estuary. 3  Although Canal Saint-Martin is completely artificial, it has had an important utilitarian and social function since its construction in  the early 1800s under Napoleon I. TOC 40 Integrated Urban River Corridors Such small rivers are of particular interest. Due to their size, they were relatively easier to tame than  large rivers and have developed stronger bonds with the cities. Some cities were even named after  those secondary rivers. For example, Vienna was named after River Wien (Wienfluss), a right-bank  tributary of the Danube, which was crucial for harvesting hydraulic energy through weirs and mill  creeks since medieval times until mid-19th c. (Hauer, Hohensinner, & Spitzbart-Glasl, 2016). Dutch  ‘Dam’ cities, including Amsterdam and Rotterdam, had originated, as their name suggests, around  dams placed on secondary rivers—the Amstel and the Rotte, respectively—at the confluence with a  larger water body—the Ij in case of Amsterdam and the Maas in Rotterdam. The importance of these  secondary rivers, however, has diminished, as soon as waterborne transportation was moved to larger  channels or other modes, and hydraulic energy was superseded by other sources. The main functions  that these rivers have kept, at least at the scale of the city, are industrial water supply, drainage and  flood control. All in all, the shifting history of urban rivers has led to an amorphous and contested urban space,  which is yet to be understood if a more resilient and sustainable relationship between the ‘urban’ and  the ‘river’ is to be attained. Current urban planning and design approaches, some of which are hinted  to in the examples given above, signal the need for a reconsidered social and ecological dimension in  addition to the utilitarian functionality of rivers. What are the key problems that contemporary urban  rivers face, as depicted in current practices and as informed by their history, requires a closer look. § 1.2 Problem statement This thesis responds to a widely acknowledged problem: the loss of synergy between the natural  dynamics of rivers and the spatial configuration of cities that they cross. As described in this section,  the problem is four-fold: (1) river-taming operations weakened the physical interactions between  the river and the city; (2) on the long run, flood-protection measures aiming for resistance to water  dynamics increase the potential risk of flooding; (3) the multiple environmental and social benefits of  rivers have been restrained; and, as a result, (4) the scalar complexity of urban rivers has been reduced. TOC 41 The river as a barrier FIGURE 1.3  River Tietê bordered by Avenida Marginal Tietê in São Paulo. Photo credit: Reginaldo Bianco. § 1.2.1 The river as a barrier The problems caused by rivers in the rapidly growing cities of the 19th and beginning of 20th century  needed urgent and concrete solutions. The engineering goals pursued in most European cities at  that time—providing flood-safety, separating sewage, protection from malaria, etc.—were well  justified (see, for instance, the transformations of River Dâmbovița and River Colentina described in  Section 3.3). The design of these infrastructures, however, failed to incorporate the dynamics and the  spatial qualities of the rivers. Instead, rivers were straightened, sealed, culverted, dammed, diverted.  The alteration of river trajectories left a strong mark on the urban fabric. Often, large urban areas  (sometimes even historical centres) were trimmed and replaced with new riverside developments,  road infrastructure, or land left in an uncertain development state. River engineering was also consonant with vehicular traffic infrastructure. Thoroughfares were often  built along the river to accommodate through-movement and high-level traffic distribution in the  city (Figure 1.3). Once river transformations were implemented, the number of pedestrian crossings  was decreased and replaced by less and larger crossings designed mainly for vehicular traffic (see, for  instance, the transformation of River Dâmbovița in Figure 3.7). All these changes transformed rivers  into physical barriers cutting the urban fabric instead of blending with it. TOC 42 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 1.4  The rising water of the Danube approaching the centre of Budapest on 8 June 2013. Photo credit: AP Photo/MTI, Sandor Ujvari. § 1.2.2 Latent flood risk Among the main reasons for river engineering were the floods threatening developing urban areas  located in the river plain. A system of flood protection measures—canals, dams, dikes, polders, and  retention lakes—were implemented to mitigate floods or to displace them to other locations outside  the city. This attitude claimed resistance against the threats of natural water dynamics but failed to  account for the uncertainties arising from human-nature couplings (Liao, 2012). Meanwhile, climate  change has increased the number of flood-related disasters and resistance has been losing ground  against changing hydrologic regimes. Extreme river flood events have been recorded in cities all over  the world, the most affected being the largest urbanised areas of the developing south. The tendency is  to upgrade flood protection measures, but this is increasingly recognised as an unsustainable strategy,  because it shifts the problem to the future. Thus, the latency of the problem must be acknowledged.  Latent flood risk refers to the discrepancy between currently observed flood risk and potential flood  risk which is defined theoretically based on long-term urban river dynamics. This means that even in  urban areas where the hydrological system has been brought to a relatively controlled state and floods  have not yet occurred (Figure 1.4), the risk of flooding must be considered. TOC 43  Lack of ecosystem services FIGURE 1.5  Channelized Los Angeles River. Photo credit: Downtowngal on Wikimedia.org. § 1.2.3 Lack of ecosystem services The abandonment of riverside areas, especially starting with the industrial revolution, deprived the  city of the ecological, psychological, social, and structural benefits of rivers. Considering that the river  is often the place where the city started to grow and where, in consequence, the density of historical  layers and urban systems is the highest, decoupling from the river led to problems of both functional  and cultural nature. The loss of riparian vegetation reduced the micro- and meso-climatic benefits of  rivers, the sealing of the riverbed and the increased imperviousness of the surrounding urban fabric  led to excessive drainage and flash floods, the accessibility, attractiveness and, hence, the amenity  value of rivers as public spaces has decreased (Figure 1.5). Even though the multiple social and  ecological benefits of urban rivers have been recognised, implementation is long due. TOC 44 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 1.2.4 Reduction of scalar complexity The last, maybe less evident, problem is related to the scales of the river and it derives from the first  three. Urban rivers have always been subject to negotiation among hydrological, ecological, and  social drivers. The inherent complexities of the river system were reduced upon human occupation  with interventions on different scales. Catchment-scale dynamics were altered either with deviations  inside the catchment or with artificial transfers across catchments. For instance, thanks to inter-basin  connections in inland Europe, navigation has even been enabled on continental scale. On smaller  scales, river rectification and canalisation have reduced lateral river dynamics and riparian ecological  complexity. River transformations have also impacted the scales of the city. The richness of interactions with  the river has been reduced. Riverside traffic corridors shifted the scale of the urban river to the larger  metropolitan scale of the street network, while creating physical barriers at human scale. Similarly,  utilitarian approaches focusing on city-scale issues such as flood protection or storm water drainage,  reduced the micro-scale environmental benefits of the river. Together, the four problems—the river as a barrier, latent flood risk, lack of ecosystem services, and  reduction of scalar complexity—are markers of reduced urban resilience to sudden shocks (e.g. floods)  and to social and environmental stresses affecting the city on a daily basis. They raise challenges but  might also provide levers to the practice of resilience-driven urban design and planning. § 1.3 Theoretical framework Two overarching challenges were pointed out in Sections 1.1-1.2: the need for more resilient  approaches and a better definition of the amorphous space surrounding urban rivers. Accordingly,  this thesis departs from two branches of urban resilience theory—social-ecological resilience (Section  1.3.1) and urban form resilience (Section 1.3.2). Tasked with operationalising resilience, tools and  techniques of spatial morphology and landscape ecology (Section 1.3.3) are employed. The theories  of urban resilience provide the wider theoretical frame and key concepts, whereas spatial morphology  and landscape ecology offer the means to represent, analyse, and design urban rivers (see key  definitions in Table 1.1). As it will become clear by the end of this section, it is at the intersection of  these domains where the theory of, and design principles and instruments for, social-ecologically  integrated urban river corridors are developed. TOC 45 Social-ecological resilience TABLE 1.1  Definition of key concepts used in the theoretical framework. TERM DEFINITION Social-ecological resilience “the ability of a complex socio-ecological system to change, adapt, and, crucially, transform in response to stresses  and strains” (Davoudi, 2012, p. 302) Urban resilience “the ability of an urban system—and all its constituent socio-ecological and socio-technical networks across  temporal and spatial scales—to maintain or rapidly return to desired functions in the face of a disturbance, to  adapt to change, and to quickly transform systems that limit current or future adaptive capacity.” (Meerow, Newell,  & Stults, 2016, p. 45) Urban form resilience “resilient urban form is generally defined in both static and normative terms as dense, inclusive of a diversity of  building types, founded on co-ordinated and robust movement infrastructure and accommodating of multipur- pose or ‘flexible’ open spaces” (Davis & Uffer, 2013, p. 11) Spatial morphology Spatial morphology “combines the qualitative study of individual urban forms, such as streets, squares and build- ings typical for urban morphology […] and the quantitative approach of spatial analysis that rather look at cities as  spatial systems […]”(Erixon Aalto, Marcus, & Torsvall, 2018, p. 6) Landscape ecology the study of “the interaction between spatial pattern and ecological process—that is, the causes and consequenc- es of spatial heterogeneity across a range of scales” (Turner & Gardner, 2015, p. 2) Social-ecological integration a property of social-ecological systems to sustain synergies and to alleviate conflicts between the patterns and  processes of coexisting ecological and social components. (Developed from Barthel et al., 2013) Urban river corridors Spaces of social-ecological integration par excellence, urban river corridors are spatial morphological units com- bining the geomorphological features of the river valley with the morphology of the urban fabric developed along  the river. (Developed from Baschak & Brown, 1995; Lerner & Holt, 2012) § 1.3.1 Social-ecological resilience Resilience was first popularised by ecologist C. S. Holling (1973) in his seminal article ‘Resilience and  Stability of Ecological Systems’, in which resilience was defined, in contrast to stability, as “a measure  of the persistence of systems and of their ability to absorb change and disturbance and still maintain  the same relationships between populations or state variables” (Holling, 1973, p. 14). In a later  article, Holling (1996) distinguished between engineering resilience, referring to a system’s ability to  bounce back to a previous equilibrium state after being disturbed, and ecological resilience, i.e. the ability to maintain key functions in face of disturbance (Meerow & Newell, 2016) or “the magnitude  of the disturbance that can be absorbed before the system changes its structure” (Holling, 1996, p.  33). As opposed to engineering resilience, ecological resilience recognises the existence of multiple  equilibrium states and that an ecosystem might shift to a different state once a certain threshold  is crossed. A third type, social-ecological resilience (Folke, 2006), also called evolutionary (Davoudi, 2012) or  progressive resilience (Vale, 2014), is defined as “the ability of a complex socio-ecological system to  change, adapt, and, crucially, transform in response to stresses and strains” (Davoudi, 2012, p. 302,  emphasis added). This third type extends the former ecological understanding of resilience—in which  ecosystems were already seen as dynamic, complex, and adaptive—to the realm of social-ecological  systems (SESs) theory (Folke, 2006; Gunderson & Holling, 2002; cited in Meerow & Newell, 2016).  There are three underlying assumptions in social-ecological resilience: that SESs are linked, i.e. the  social system is not external, but coupled to and part of the ecological system; that SESs are complex  adaptive systems exhibiting non-linear dynamics of change; and that “building adaptive capacity for  resilience is the key objective of governing [SESs]” (Wilkinson, 2011, p. 151). TOC 46 Integrated Urban River Corridors Two additional attributes of resilient systems appear in the definition of social-ecological resilience:  adaptability and transformability (Folke et al., 2010; Walker, Holling, Carpenter, & Kinzig, 2004).  “Adaptability is the capacity of a SES to adjust its responses to changing external drivers and  internal processes and thereby allow for development within the current stability domain, along the  current trajectory. Transformability is the capacity to create new stability domains for development,  a new stability landscape, and cross thresholds into a new development trajectory. Deliberate  transformation requires resilience thinking, first in assessing the relative merits of the current versus  alternative, potentially more favorable stability domains, and second in fostering resilience of the  new development trajectory” (Folke et al., 2010, para. 24). This “dynamic interplay of [resilience as]  persistence, adaptability and transformability across multiple scales and multiple attractors in SESs”  form the framework of ‘resilience thinking’ (Folke et al., 2010, para. 23). FIGURE 1.6  The Adaptive Cycle (left, Folke et al., 2010) and the Panarchy model (right, Gunderson & Holling, 2002). Source: Resilience Alliance.  Retrieved from: https://www.resalliance.org/glossary (Accessed: 1 August 2018). Central to resilience thinking are the concept of the Adaptive Cycle and the Panarchy model. The adaptive cycle is “a heuristic model that portrays an endogenously driven four-phase cycle of social- ecological systems and other complex adaptive systems” (see Table 1 in Folke et al., 2010). As shown  in Figure 1.6 (left), the cycle is described as four-phased trajectory: a “foreloop” of rapid growth (the  so-called r-phase), characterised by high resilience and a phase of capital accumulation (K phase),  in which resilience is decreased, and a “backloop” comprising a sudden collapse of structure and  relationships (Ω) and a phase of reorganisation (α) in which the system is renewed. The panarchy  model is “a heuristic for understanding how complex systems progress over time through multi-scalar  adaptive cycles of destruction and reorganization” (Gunderson & Holling, 2002, cited in Meerow et  al., 2016, p. 40). The panarchy model underpins the evolutionary meaning of resilience by combining  multiple adaptive cycles in a nested hierarchy at multiple spatial and temporal scales (Davoudi, 2012). Challenges and opportunities of a 'boundary object' One of the core qualities of resilience is that it is a ‘boundary object’ (Brand & Jax, 2007) or ‘bridging  concept’ (Davoudi, 2012), meaning that its interpretable nature makes it easily understandable and  transferable across disciplines. Brand and Jax (2007) state that this vague and malleable character  of resilience is particularly suited for inter- or transdisciplinary work dealing with social-ecological  TOC 47 Social-ecological resilience systems (in the sense of social-ecological resilience as defined by Folke, 2006), or according to (Vale,  2014, p. 199), “the term may legitimately serve as a vital and welcome intellectual bridge, both in  theory – and more importantly – in practice.” It is not a surprise then to see the growing popularity of  resilience in policy discourse (Weichselgartner & Kelman, 2015) and its proliferation from the original  ecological definition to several other disciplines, such as disaster management, psychology, economy,  and urban planning. At the same time, Brand and Jax (2007) warn that, due to the diluted meaning of resilience, “both  conceptual clarity and practical relevance are critically in danger” (Brand & Jax, 2007, para. 2).  Some scholars even argue that resilience might become ‘just another buzzword’, ‘empty signifier’,  or ‘old wine in new bottles’ (e.g. Davoudi, 2012; Müller, 2011; Weichselgartner & Kelman, 2015),  like sustainability, vulnerability and adaptability. Opinions also differ on how resilience is related to  the already established discourse of sustainability and on different degrees of normativity. Picket  et al. (2014, p. 144), for instance, present resilience as “a non-normative conceptual scientific  model” which is key to operationalising the normative, socially constructed goals of sustainability.4 Weichselgartner and Kelman, on the other hand, suggest that “resilience should be transformed  from a mainly descriptive concept (‘what is done’) into one which includes a normative agenda (‘what  ought to be done’)” (Weichselgartner & Kelman, 2015, p. 250). Such a hybrid concept—i.e. one in  which descriptive and normative connotations are mixed—is social-ecological resilience (Brand & Jax,  2007). According to Weichselgartner & Kelman (2015), the assertion that resilience is an integrating concept  lacks empirical evidence and, therefore, decisions about resilience must consider the already existing  practices of risk and sustainability. They point out the essential role of geography in integrating  the natural environment, the built environment and society, as opposed to the more disciplinary  approaches of ecology, psychology and engineering engaged in resilience. Another important stream of criticism of resilience comes from social theorist, concerned that the  system-based models of ecological resilience, namely the adaptive cycle, do not represent social  dynamics (Meerow & Newell, 2016). Proponents of social-ecological resilience respond to this critique  by specifying that the adaptive cycle is a tendency, i.e. a guiding model acknowledging human agency  in the social system, rather than a deterministic model as it is applied in ecology. Situating resilience in urban design and planning Recognising the challenges and opportunities outlined above, Pickett et al. (2014) set out to situate  resilience in the urban design and planning practice by distinguishing the core meaning of resilience  from metaphors, most commonly connoting some form of ‘bounce-back-ability’ to some pre- disturbance state, and from operationalising models, such as social interpretations of the adaptive  cycle. A sustained attempt to clarifying the core meaning of resilience can be traced in a number of  questions recurring in literature: “resilience of what to what?” (Carpenter, Walker, Anderies, & Abel,  2001) “and at what temporal and spatial scales?” (Weichselgartner & Kelman, 2015), “and for  whom?” (Vale, 2014), as well as “when, where and why?”, to complete Meerow and Newell’s (2016)  “five Ws of urban resilience”. 4  According to Brand & Jax (2007), the three pillars of sustainability are (1) social equity and well-being, (2) economic viability or  feasibility, and (3) environmental or ecological integrity. TOC 48 Integrated Urban River Corridors Depending on the kind of system or disturbance, resilience can be specified or general (Folke et al.,  2010; Walker & Salt, 2012). In response to the question “resilience of what to what?”, specified  resilience is the “resilience of some particular part of a system […] to one or more identified kinds of  shocks”, while general resilience is defined as “[t]he resilience of any and all parts of a system to all  kinds of shocks, including novel ones” (see Table 1 in Folke et al., 2010). Applied to cities, these two  views are equally important. Cities are not only facing acute shocks, such as floods or earthquakes, but  also chronic stresses affecting cities on a daily basis, like high levels of pollution, lack of green spaces,  severe heat waves, and heavy congestion, just to name the predominant ones (da Silva & Moench,  2014). These two types of disturbances determine different responses. According to Vale (2014),  resilience has been employed in urban planning and design in two modes: reactive/restorative and proactive/preventive. The reactive mode focuses more on post-disturbance retrofitting and recovery  management, whereas proactive resilience aims to “anticipate future problems and seek proactive  solutions that enhance the quality of both public and private living spaces” (Vale, 2014, p. 194). The  reactive/restorative mode is most frequently adopted as an attempt to return to a pre-disturbance  state after an acute shock has occurred. In addition to anticipating sudden shocks, the proactive/ preventive mode can consider the slow dynamics of chronic stresses as well. In this mode, urban  design and planning can be involved earlier in the process. Notwithstanding the importance of  reactive/restorative approaches, the proactive/preventive mode is of special interest for urban  design and planning, as it can integrate general resilience properties (Carpenter et al., 2012) into a  wider framework of general urban resilience (Forgaci & van Timmeren, 2014). Focused on spatial  properties, such a framework could deliver design and planning principles. The question of scale, and implicitly the establishment of system boundaries, encompasses all the  other questions. Linked to scale is the issue of who decides and who benefits from resilience-driven  planning decisions. This means that there are ‘winners’ and ‘losers’ either among the actors affected  by planning decisions within the system or outside of it. This leads to the question of where the spatial  boundaries of the urban system are. The inherent social and environmental unevenness of the city  makes any reference to resilience of an entire city over-simplified (Vale, 2014). In this sense, finding  spaces of strategic resilience-building, becomes an important task in resilience-driven urban planning  and design. Part of the definition of resilience is that it is a time-related concept. For when to employ resilience  is important in both reactive and proactive approaches. Although uncertainty is acknowledged  in urban resilience, understanding past occurrence of disturbances, recoveries, adaptations and transformations is a necessary prerequisite both for responding to events after they have occurred and  for anticipating future disturbances. If the focus of proactive approaches is on short-term disruptions,  persistence might be the main goal, while addressing long-term stresses might require some degree  of transition or transformation (Meerow & Newell, 2016). Why resilience is promoted needs careful consideration. Resilience in itself is not good or bad, as  undesirable states may be highly resilient too (Walker & Salt, 2012). The goal of resilience building,  with focus on either the process or the outcome, determines whether the status quo, adaptation or  transformation are desirable (Meerow & Newell, 2016). TOC 49  Urban form resilience § 1.3.2 Urban form resilience The ‘urban’ in urban resilience literature is used in a very inclusive way to describe the urban  environment as a totality of “social, biological, built and geophysical components” (Pickett et  al., 2014, p. 144), on several spatial and temporal scales. This inclusive description poses some  difficulties to answering the questions outlined in Section 1.3.1. What is it exactly that needs to  gain resilience? What are the disturbances acting upon the urban environment? Where are the  urban system’s boundaries and who is included? How did the city react to past disturbances? Social- ecological resilience provides a conceptual frame for understanding the urban system, but it does not  provide the spatial tools necessary for urban design and planning. A branch of urban resilience which  is highly relevant in this sense, is urban form resilience, concerned with the way in which the spatial  composition and configuration of the urban fabric influences urban resilience. Resilient urban form  is defined as “dense, inclusive of a diversity of building types, founded on coordinated and robust  movement infrastructure and accommodating of multipurpose or ‘flexible’ open spaces” (Davis &  Uffer, 2013, p. 11). As a normative approach, urban form resilience aims to measure and assess urban form against given  resilience targets, and to provide principles and tools for urban design and planning. To that end, it uses indicators derived from spatial properties of resilience. Looking at attempts at quantifying or  assessing resilience, different sets of properties can be identified in studies of general resilience (e.g.  Carpenter et al., 2012; Walker & Salt, 2012). Upon examining those properties,5 a few observations can be made. The first observation is that some properties—diversity, robustness, modularity,  redundancy, openness, reserves, nestedness, self-organization—have direct spatial implications,  whereas others—responsiveness, monitoring, leadership, trust, social networks, coordination—are  less influenced by spatial conditions. The second observation is that the properties are not independent or mutually exclusive. Some can  be described or even determined by others. This is the case, for example, of redundancy, that is, the  spare or latent capacity for rise in demand or loss of supply. In one way or another, each property is  a variation of redundancy expressed as some kind of extra capacity. Diversity, for instance, provides  several solutions to the same problem (response diversity), or solutions that can address several  problems (functional diversity) (Carpenter et al., 2012; Norberg & Cumming, 2008). In this sense,  diversity is a form of redundancy. Modularity, that is, the capacity of parts of a system to decouple in  case of a disturbance, implies that the system is decentralized, thus redundant, to a certain extent. In  another definition, Carpenter et al. (2012) even defines diversity in terms of modularity. Redundancy, can be considered a point of departure in looking at the resilience of the urban fabric. To  a certain extent, there is built-in redundancy in every urban system. This is visible especially (but not  exclusively) in historical cities, i.e. cities developed in an incremental way throughout history and less  affected by top-down (modernistic) planning decisions. The redundancy of their spatial configuration  may be ascribed to high levels of road network connectivity, availability of open and distributed spaces,  (spatial and functional) diversity and self-organization.6 5  A comprehensive review of general resilience properties is outside the scope of this thesis. 6  See Section 7.3.1 for a detailed discussion on redundant road networks. TOC 50 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 1.3.3 Spatial morphology and landscape ecology Landscape ecology and spatial morphology offer empirical, analytical and design tools to  operationalise resilience. Spatial morphology “combines the qualitative study of individual urban  forms, such as streets, squares and buildings typical for urban morphology […] and the quantitative  approach of spatial analysis that rather look at cities as spatial systems […]” (Erixon Aalto et al., 2018,  p. 6). In contrast to traditional typology-morphology approaches, space-morphology has a strong  topological dimension, i.e. it uses networks to represent the space of movement and to analyse  complex urban configurations. Landscape ecology, defined as the study of “the interaction between  spatial pattern and ecological process—that is, the causes and consequences of spatial heterogeneity  across a range of scales”, combines the spatial approach of geography7 with the functional approach of ecology (Turner & Gardner, 2015, p. 2). Landscape ecology resorts to a model called land mosaics (Forman & Godron, 1986) to describe and analyse landscape composition and configuration.  Principles of landscape ecology, as the ones developed by Dramstad et al. (1996), have been proven  useful in guiding landscape design and planning (Ahern, 2013). Spatial morphology and landscape ecology provide the vocabulary and tools necessary for the  implementation of spatial-ecological resilience and urban form resilience. This way, the urban  environment can be perceived, analysed and designed as a conjoint social and ecological landscape.  The tools and methods of analysis, as well as principles of the two approaches will be further described  in Chapter 5 and Chapter 7. § 1.3.4 Conceptual framework As illustrated in Figure 1.7, the core concept developed in this thesis is social-ecological integration.8 Building on the descriptive, analytic and normative goals of social-ecological resilience and urban form  resilience and equipped with the tools and techniques of spatial morphology and landscape ecology,  social-ecological integration is proposed here as a normative concept capable of operationalising  social-ecological resilience. In general terms, social-ecological integration can be defined as the  capacity of social-ecological systems to sustain synergies and to alleviate conflicts between the  patterns and processes of coexisting ecological and social components. It builds on general properties  of resilience, it addresses chronic stresses, and it adopts a proactive approach, by pooling the resources  and adaptability of the social and ecological components of the system. Applied to the urban environment, social-ecological integration focuses on enhancing the  composition and configuration of urban spaces which can potentially fulfil ecological and social  goals in a combined way. As mentioned earlier, the urban environment is seen as a social-ecological  landscape in which all spaces can, potentially and to a certain degree, provide social-ecological  integration. However, the unevenness of the urban landscape makes some spaces more suited than  7  As opposed to the more disciplinary approaches of ecology, psychology and engineering, geography integrates the natural environ- ment, the built environment and society (Weichselgartner & Kelman, 2015) 8  Integrated (as opposed to segregated) SESs (e.g. Barthel et al., 2013) or coupled human and natural systems (e.g. Liu et al., 2007)  have been increasingly employed in SES research and in integrated geography. TOC 51  Conceptual framework others. Urban river corridors (URCs), chosen as areas of focus in this thesis, are spaces of social- ecological integration par excellence, where the interaction between the social systems of the city and  ecological systems is (potentially) the most intense. URCs are defined here as spatial morphological  units combining the geomorphological features of the river valley with the morphology of the urban  fabric developed along the river. An in-depth review of the literature on social-ecologically integrated  urban river corridors will follow in Chapter 2. FIGURE 1.7  Conceptual framework: social-ecologically integrated urban river corridors as a normative concept at the intersection of  the theoretical fields of social-ecological resilience and urban form resilience and the analytical domains of landscape ecology and  spatial morphology. TOC 52 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 1.4 Research questions and objectives Having established the normative value of social-ecological integration and the spatial-morphological  potentials of URCs, the main research question naturally follows: How can social-ecological integration be spatially defined, assessed and designed in Urban River Corridors? As shown in Table 1.2, each chapter of the thesis responds to a sub-question and addresses a number  of objectives.9  Sub-question 2 (“What are the spatial-morphological conditions for achieving social- ecological integration along urban rivers?”) prompts the literature review carried out in Chapter 2,  which is meant to develop a transdisciplinary knowledge base on urban rivers for the rest of the thesis.  Sub-question 3 (“How has the social-ecological relationship between Bucharest and its rivers evolved  through time?”) and Sub-question 4 (“What is the current state of knowledge on Bucharest's URCs?”)  will be answered in Chapters 3 and 4, respectively, to analyse the historical development and current  state of urban rivers in a real-world context: the URCs of Bucharest. Sub-question 5 (“How can the  social-ecological integration of urban river corridors be assessed?”) and Sub-question 6 (“To what  extent are the URCs of Bucharest social-ecologically integrated?”) prompt the investigation of how  URCs can be assessed in general and in the empirical context of Bucharest. Finally, Sub-question 7  (“How can the design of URCs be guided towards social-ecological integration?”) and Sub-question  8 (“How do design instruments aid the design of better integrated urban river corridors?”) detail the  third part of the main research question, that is, the development of design principles and design  instruments for social-ecologically integrated URCs. TABLE 1.2  Sub-questions and objectives used to answer the main research question. SUB-QUESTION OBJECTIVES SQ2: What are the spatial-morphological conditions for  achieving social-ecological integration along urban rivers?  (Chapter 2) Objective 2.1: Identify key properties of URCs. Objective 2.2: Formulate a spatial-morphological definition of URCs. Objective 2.3: Devise a method of spatial delineation of URCs. SQ3: How has the social-ecological relationship between  Bucharest and its rivers evolved through time? (Chapter 3) Objective 3.1: Describe the geographic context of Bucharest’s URCs. Objective 3.2: Describe the spatial-temporal dynamics of Bucharest’s URCs. SQ4: What is the current state of knowledge on Bucha- rest’s URCs? (Chapter 4) Objective 4.1: Summarise the spatial effects of post-socialist transformations on URCs in  Central and Eastern Europe. Objective 4.2: Identify the current problems and potentials of Bucharest’s URCs related to  urban development. SQ5: How can the social-ecological integration of URCs be  spatially assessed? (Chapter 5) Objective 5.1: Review current approaches to the assessment of urban rivers. Objective 5.2: Build an assessment framework for social-ecological integration in URCs. SQ6: To what extent are the URCs of Bucharest social-eco- logically integrated? (Chapter 6) Objective 6.1: Assess social-ecological integration in URC Dâmbovița. Objective 6.2: Demonstrate the wider application of the assessment framework on URC  Colentina. SQ7: How can the design of URCs be guided towards  social-ecological integration? (Chapter 7) Objective 7.1: Formulate design principles of social-ecologically integrated URCs. Objective 7.2: Explore URCs through design. SQ8: How do design instruments aid the design of better  integrated URCs? (Chapter 8) Objective 8.1: Develop a set of design instruments to apply the design principles of so- cial-ecologically integrated URCs. Objective 8.2: Demonstrate and test the design instruments on the URCs of Bucharest. 9  To maintain the correspondence with chapter numbers following this introductory chapter, the numbering of the sub-questions  and the objectives starts with 2, i.e. with the sub-question and objectives of Chapter 2. TOC 53 Approach § 1.5 Approach As pointed out in the theoretical framework, operationalising social-ecological resilience requires  a proactive approach capable of addressing the complexity of the urban environment, the  uncertainties of future events, and the limitations of disciplinary models. To meet these challenges,  the thesis adopts a transdisciplinary design study approach, the elements of which—design and transdisciplinarity—are described in Sections 1.5.1-1.5.2. § 1.5.1 Design study A design study combines two distinct domains of activity: research and design. Research is a  systematic enquiry aimed at advancing generalizable knowledge (Groat & Wang, 2013), whereas  design is concerned with devising “courses of action aimed at changing existing situations into  preferred ones” (Simon, 1996; cited in Groat & Wang, 2013, p. 24). Research is question-driven,  while design is problem-driven. Besides these differences, there is also a necessary reciprocal  relationship. In Groat and Wang’s words, “design and research constitute neither polar opposites  nor equivalent domains of activity. Rather, the relationship between the two is far more nuanced,  complementary, and robust.” (Groat & Wang, 2013, p. 18). Building on this complementarity, several  approaches, such as study by design (de Jong & van der Voordt, 2002), or evidence-based design (Zeisel, 2006), have already integrated design into research. Although some minor differences exist  between these approaches, what they have in common is the systematic involvement of design in the  process of inquiry. FIGURE 1.8  Possible, probable and desirable futures, as depicted by Taeke de Jong (2012, pp. 16–17). But in order to employ design in research, a different way of thinking is required. In his account of  modes of reasoning in environmental design, Taeke de Jong (2012) conceptualises design in relation  to probable, possible and desirable futures (Figure 1.8). Within his scheme, the field of possibilities  for design extends beyond what is probable, meaning that it requires a conditional rather than causal  TOC 54 Integrated Urban River Corridors reasoning. Such a reasoning is also called abductive, which is different from deductive and inductive  modes of inference that are predominant in science. Abduction, called also hypothesis, presumption,  and retroduction by Charles Sanders Pierce10 or productive reasoning by March (1984), entails making  an “inference to the best explanation” or, most simply, an “educated guess.“ Abductive logic is typical  to design thinking as it entails figuring out the thing to create and the working principle that can lead  to an aspired value (for a detailed explanation of the three types of inferences see, for instance, Groat  & Wang, 2013, pp. 33–36). In practical terms, design has at least two applications. It is, as described above, a problem-solving activity, as it responds to real problems, commissions, assignments, but it is also—and this is often  overlooked—a knowledge producing activity, as explained by Viagnò (2010). Christian Salewski states,  in a similar manner, that “designing is one of the few truly integrative tools to develop solutions for  complex tasks under the acceptance of fundamental uncertainties. Designs need to be informed by  research, but they are also fundamental to provide necessary directions, focus, and frames for good  research” (Salewski, 2013, p. 18). As a problem-solving activity in a real-world context, design deals  with wicked problems, which can be addressed, on one hand, with trial and error in a non-linear,  iterative process and, on the other hand, by having an overall under-standing of contextual dynamics  the object of design is part of. In this sense, strategic, systemic and adaptive design (Ahern, 2011,  2013), as well as design experiments (Felson & Pickett, 2005) must be incorporated in a design study. This research uses design in three ways: as a starting point or hypothesis, as a way of exploration, and as a way of testing. As a starting point and as a way of exploration, the research was informed by  river design projects carried out by the author prior to and during the research (see Boxes 7.1-7.4 in  Chapter 7). As a way of testing, a design workshop was used an integral part of the research strategy  (see Chapter 8). The research does not culminate in a design, but it offers a set of principles and  instruments to guide and aid the design for social-ecological integration. § 1.5.2 Transdisciplinarity In addition to its application in problem-solving and knowledge production, design is increasingly  seen as “an integrative activity across disciplines” (Ahern, 2013, p. 1204, emphasis added), or one  in which integrated knowledge can lead to integrative spatial quality (Khan, Moulaert, Schreurs, &  Miciukiewicz, 2014). This is visible in approaches such as design-decision research, collaborative  design, or scholarship in public (Groat & Wang, 2013), and in a general tendency towards disciplinary  de-specialisation in the design fields (Waldheim, 2016). Overcoming disciplinary boundaries is  also a fundamental prerequisite of how the research is conducted. In a wider scope, sustainability  scholarship entails an “undisciplinary journey” in which methodological groundedness and  epistemological agility become core competencies (Haider et al., 2018, p. 191).  There are two barriers to transdisciplinarity in the field of design. The first is within the domain  of design itself, between landscape architecture/urbanism/design/planning and urban design/ planning. Beyond their categorisation as disciplines, these are activities, each with a specific spatial  focus and guided by a distinct body of knowledge, even though they often act upon the same spaces.  10  The term abduction, used interchangeably with hypothesis, presumption, and retroduction, was coined by pragmatist philosopher  Charles Sanders Pierce in the 19th century. TOC 55  Methodology A transdisciplinary design approach does not separate urban design from planning, nor does it  regard built form and the landscape as separate fields of study and intervention. The second barrier  is visible in the difficulty of communicating knowledge across disciplines. Although some attempts of  overcoming them exist—landscape urbanism (Waldheim, 2016), urban ecological design (Palazzo &  Steiner, 2011), or landscape ecology (Ahern, 2011) are some—, design is still mainly confined by the  first barrier. The integrative potential of design is yet to be fulfilled, and one way to that end is to devise  a visual body of knowledge which can facilitate communication across the second barrier as well. The subject matter of this thesis—social ecological integration of urban river corridors— requires opening up to an ‘ecology of ideas’ (Montuori, 2013) scattered across different fields of  knowledge—river ecology, hydrology, environmental history, river restoration, civil engineering,  urban and landscape design, urban and regional planning, to name just a few of the ones which  were encountered during the research. For analytical purposes, transdisciplinary knowledge will  be categorised in Chapter 2 into four thematic domain families—environmental-ecological, social- economic, planning-governance, and spatial-morphological—, each informed by several disciplines. § 1.6 Methodology Determined by the transdisciplinary approach and the nature of the research question, the thesis  adopts a mixed methods research design, or combined strategy (Groat & Wang, 2013), as it mixes  elements of a case study design and logical argumentation11 under the overall approach of a design study. This research design is particularly suitable, considering the complexity of the context and topic  of enquiry, the exploratory nature of design, the variety and changing nature of data sources, and,  consequently, the need for triangulation. This strategy of inquiry is rooted in a pragmatic worldview, as “it is not committed to any one system of philosophy and reality” (Creswell, 2014, p. 11). Instead,  it is problem-centred, it is concerned with applications situated in a plural reality and it is free in  combining different methods, techniques and procedures of both qualitative and quantitative nature. The investigation involves the intensive study of a single “typical” case (Gerring, 2007, p. 49), which  is “representative [emphasis added] of the phenomenon under study”—the city of Bucharest and its  two rivers. According to Yin’s typology,12 the present study may be classified as theory-building, as it is instrumental in exploring and to explaining the phenomenon at hand. It is exploratory in its search for principles and explanatory in its aim for generalisable knowledge. Case studies typically incorporate  multiple sources of evidence. As shown in this section, the thesis employs various data sources, such  as historical analyses, diachronic mapping, expert interviews, spatial and network analyses. 11  Groat & Wang (2013) identify seven research strategies in architecture and allied fields: historical research, qualitative research,  correlational research, experimental and quasi-experimental research, logical argumentation, and case studies and combined  strategies. 12  Yin (2003) classifies case study designs into linear-analytic, chronological, theory-building and unsequenced. TOC 56 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 1.6.1 Research design As shown in Figure 1.9, the research is organized in three packages that correspond to the three parts  of the thesis (outlined in Section 1.8)—Context, Assessment, and Design—, each consisting of a  different set of methods (see Table 1.3 for a complete list of methods). FIGURE 1.9  Research design diagram. The transdisciplinary literature review conducted in Chapter 2 is critical for integrating the knowledge  on URCs and to prepare the conceptual framework for consequent empirical work. The four key  properties of URCs are derived from a systematic analysis of the subject matter across domains. The  review of literature is also important in the historical study of Bucharest’s URCs presented in Chapter  3 and in the first part of Chapter 4. In addition, Part 2 and Part 3 draw on existing literature in the  development of the assessment framework and the design principles, respectively. TOC 57 Research design TABLE 1.3  The methods used in the thesis, in relation to the sub-questions and objectives used to answer the main research question. OBJECTIVES METHOD(S)* SQ2: What are the spatial-morphological conditions for achieving social-ecological integration along urban rivers? (Chapter 2) Objective 2.1: Identify key properties of URCs. Conduct a transdisciplinary literature review on urban rivers and the devel- opment of the concept of urban river corridors. Objective 2.2: Formulate a spatial-morphological definition of URCs. Following the spatial-morphological definition (Objective 2.2) and  building on existing methods of river corridor delineation, formulate the  procedure required to delineate URCs. Objective 2.3: Devise a method of spatial delineation of URCs. SQ3: How has the social-ecological relationship between Bucharest and its rivers evolved through time? (Chapter 3) Objective 3.1: Describe the geographic context of Bucharest’s URCs. Describe the catchment- and metropolitan-scale conditions of the URCs  of Bucharest (literature). Objective 3.2: Describe the spatial-temporal dynamics of Bucharest’s  URCs. Summarise the history of the transformations of Dâmbovița and Colentina  in relation with the spatial development of Bucharest (literature). SQ4: What is the current state of knowledge on Bucharest’s URCs? (Chapter 4) Objective 4.1: Summarise the spatial effects of post-socialist transforma- tions on URCs in Central and Eastern Europe. Literature review of post-socialist urban transformations. Objective 4.2: Identify the current problems and potentials of Bucharest’s  URCs related to urban development. Content analysis of semi-structured interviews with local experts from  different disciplines involved in planning, governance or design of- or in  Bucharest’s URCs. SQ5: How can the social-ecological integration of URCs be spatially assessed? (Chapter 5) Objective 5.1: Review current approaches to the assessment of urban  rivers. Literature review on methods of assessment and spatial indicators of  URCs. Objective 5.2: Build an assessment framework for social-ecological inte- gration in URCs. Devise an indicator system and an assessment framework based on cur- rent approaches (Chapter 5/Objective 5.1) and the key properties of URCs  (Chapter 2/Objective 2.1). SQ6: To what extent are the URCs of Bucharest social-ecologically integrated? (Chapter 6) Objective 6.1: Assess social-ecological integration in URC Dâmbovița. Make a selection of indicators based on the issues highlighted by the local  experts in Chapter 4 and on criteria specified in the assessment frame- work and carry out the assessment on URC Dâmbovița. Objective 6.2: Demonstrate the application of the assessment framework  on URC Colentina. Demonstrate the use of the assessment framework on URC Colentina. SQ7: How can the design of URCs be guided towards social-ecological integration? (Chapter 7) Objective 7.1: Formulate design principles of social-ecologically integrat- ed URCs. Based on the key properties and principles of URCs identified in the  transdisciplinary literature review (Chapter 2/Objective 2.1) and current  sustainable urban design principles at large (Chapter 7/Objective 7.1),  devise a set of spatial-morphological principles. Objective 7.2: Explore URCs through design. Explore the design of URCs through riverside urban and landscape design projects. SQ8: How do design instruments aid the design of better integrated URCs? (Chapter 8) Objective 8.1: Develop a set of design instruments to apply the design  principles of social-ecologically integrated URCs. Translate the design principles into procedures that are easily communi- cable and applicable in the design process. Objective 8.2: Demonstrate and test the design instruments on the URCs  of Bucharest. Conduct a design workshop as a research methodology to demonstrate  and test the use of the design instruments. * Some objectives are accomplished by literature review. Methods are emphasized. In Part 1, the empirical case of Bucharest and its URCs is analysed through content analysis of qualitative data obtained from expert interviews. A thorough description of the methods, techniques  and procedures of data collection and analysis can be found in Chapter 4. The methods used in  Part 2 are mainly analytical. Various methods of spatial and network analysis were used in this part. Geographic data used in the analyses was retrieved mainly from secondary sources, such as  OpenStreetMap and Urban Atlas data. The development of the assessment framework and the  implementation methodology are described in Chapters 5 and 6. Part 3 involved design explorations TOC 58 Integrated Urban River Corridors for the development of design principles and a design workshop used to test and demonstrate the  design instruments derived from the design principles. Considering the qualitative nature of the  workshop, a multi-method approach was adopted in the data collection process. The full methodology  and procedures of the workshop are described in Chapter 8. The three parts of the thesis are assembled into an exploratory concurrent mixed methods design (Figure 1.10), adapted from what Creswell (2014) calls an exploratory sequential mixed methods  design. The QUAL>QUAN sequence of Creswell’s model is connected to a recursive design component  informed by both the QUAL and QUAN components. It is not a sequence concluded with an  interpretation, as in Creswell’s model, but an iterative process, in which the result is the design  component. FIGURE 1.10  Diagram of the exploratory concurrent mixed methods design used in the research (bottom), adapted from Creswell's  (2014) exploratory sequential mixed-methods design (top). TOC 59 Relevance § 1.7 Relevance With its aim to further transdisciplinary knowledge and application on urban rivers and to apply that  knowledge through a design-driven research strategy, this thesis addresses both researchers in urban  design and planning and actors from the wider public involved in the development of urban rivers. § 1.7.1 Societal relevance Terms such as ‘sustainability’, ’resilience’ and ‘adaptability’ have been proven powerful (at least in a  metaphorical and rhetorical way) in addressing the issues of globalization, urbanisation and climate  change. Yet, due to their ambiguous meaning, their operationalisation remains difficult. While cities  are expanding and densifying, environmental issues such as overheating, floods, and pollution, but  also the degradation of public space, increasingly impact the life of citizens. If defined, assessed  and designed properly, URCs can have a considerable contribution to mitigating or alleviating these  societal challenges. Recognising this potential, this research aims for societal impact in at least three  ways:  – the transdisciplinary knowledge assembled in this thesis may inform and facilitate collaborative and  participatory design with actors involved in the spatial development of riverside urban areas; – the assessment framework can facilitate the acquisition of empirical evidence for better informed  decision-making in the planning and design of riverside urban transformations; and – the design principles and instruments may support design practice in devising solutions which are  more integrative and forward-looking. § 1.7.2 Scientific relevance The methodological and conceptual breadth of this research raises several challenges regarding  research quality, consistency, and focus, but, for the same reason, it also tackles several issues of high  scientific relevance: – still sparingly applied to urban resilience research, the spatial-morphological approach presented here  can facilitate the adoption of resilience theory by urban design scholars; – the visual and conceptual vocabulary of the transdisciplinary knowledge developed in this thesis may  clear the way for further transdisciplinarity research on urban rivers; – the concept of social-ecological integration, as defined and applied in this thesis, may provide  strategies and heuristics for implementing urban resilience; and – the transdisciplinary approach and design-driven research methodology employed in this thesis  (referred to as a transdisciplinary design study) offers a potential pathway to researchers involved in  similar research strategies. TOC 60 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 1.8 Thesis outline As shown in Figure 1.11, the thesis is divided in three themed parts: Context, Assessment and Design. This structure resembles the main stages of an evidence-based design process and makes the  transition through descriptive, analytical and normative claims as the thesis advances. Although the  chapters follow an overall line of argumentation, the three parts are coherent modules that can be  read separately. Part 1 consists of three chapters and establishes the theoretical and empirical context in which  URCs are investigated. Chapter 2 is a transdisciplinary literature review, in which key properties and  principles of URCs are distilled from four domains of knowledge, referred to as the environmental- ecological, social-economic, planning-governance, and spatial-morphological dimensions. The  chapter ends with a spatial-morphological definition and a method of spatial delineation of URCs.  Chapters 3 and 4 introduce the URCs of Bucharest from a historical perspective and in their current  state, respectively. Chapter 3 describes the transformations of the rivers form mid-nineteenth century  until the fall of Communism in 1989 in relation to the spatial dynamics of the city. Post-communist  transformations are examined in detail in Chapter 4. After situating the case in the literature on  Central Eastern European post-communist transition, an in-depth analysis of expert interviews is  conducted to reveal the current state of knowledge on Bucharest’s URCs. This chapter represents the  knowledge base for the applications presented in Chapter 6 and Chapter 8. The two chapters of Part 2 develop and demonstrate the use of a framework for the assessment of  social-ecologically integration in URCs. Guided by the key properties of URCs (Chapter 2) and informed  by current assessment methods found in literature, Chapter 5 develops an indicator system and an  assessment procedure. The framework is then applied on the two URCs of Bucharest in Chapter 6. First URC Dâmbovița is assessed, and then URC Colentina is used to demonstrate the wider application of  the indicator system. In Part 3, the thesis turns to a design approach. Chapter 7 formulates four design principles informed  by the key properties of URCs identified in Chapter 2, design explorations carried out by the author  in urban river projects, and principles currently employed in urban and landscape design. Chapter 8 elaborates design instruments meant to aid the application of the design principles in the design  process. The chapter reports on a design workshop which was organised in Bucharest to test and  demonstrate the use of the instruments. Chapter 9 summarises the findings of each chapter and answers the main research question, it reflects  on methodological and epistemological challenges related to the research design, it discusses the  wider implications and applicability of the research outcomes, and gives recommendations for future  research. TOC 61 Thesis outline Introduction Conclusions and discussion PART 1 Context Assessment Design PART 2 PART 3 Towards a Spatial-Morphological Definition of Integrated Urban River Corridors—A Trensdisciplinary Literature Review Ch2 Ch5 Ch7 Social-Ecological Dynamics in Bucharest’s River Corridors—A Diachronic Perspective Ch3 The State of Knowledge on Bucharest's Urban River Corridors An Framework for the Assessment of Social- Ecological Integration in Urban River Corridors Assessing the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest Design Principles for Integrated Urban River Corridors Applying the Principles through Design Instruments Ch4 Ch6 Ch8 Ch1 Ch9 FIGURE 1.11  Visual outline of the thesis (theoretical chapters in grey, empirical chapters in light blue). TOC 62 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 63  Context PART 1 Context This part includes three chapters: Chapter 2 Towards a Spatial-Morphological Definition of Integrated Urban River Corridors—A  Transdisciplinary Literature Review Chapter 3 Social-Ecological Dynamics in Bucharest’s River Corridors—A Diachronic Perspective Chapter 4 The State of Knowledge on the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest TOC 64 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 65  Towards a Spatial-Morphological Definition of Integrated Urban River Corridors—A Transdisciplinary Literature Review 2 Towards a Spatial-Morphological Definition  of Integrated Urban River Corridors—A  Transdisciplinary Literature Review § 2.1 Introduction This chapter presents a transdisciplinary literature review on urban rivers, in which key principles  were identified under four domain families, referred to as the environmental-ecological dimension, the social-economic dimension, the planning-governance dimension, and the spatial-morphological dimension. The purpose of this chapter is to develop a spatial-morphological definition of Urban River Corridors (URCs) based on the translation of discipline-specific terms and definitions to urban  planning and design. The literature review outlines the potentials and challenges of spatial integration between cities and their rivers and concludes with four key properties of URCs: connectivity, open space amenity, integration and multiscalarity (Section 2.2). Based on the principles and key properties  described in Section 2.2, Section 2.3 elaborates and illustrates the spatial-morphological definition  and a method of delineation for social-ecologically integrated URCs. SUB-QUESTION AND OBJECTIVES: Sub-question 2: What are the spatial-morphological conditions for achieving social-ecological integration along urban rivers? Objective 2.1: Identify key properties of URCs. Section 2.2 Objective 2.2: Formulate a spatial-morphological definition of URCs. Section 2.3 Objective 2.3: Devise a method of spatial delineation of URCs. § 2.2 Urban River Corridors—A Literature Review A transdisciplinary literature review is an opportunity “to situate the inquirer in an ecology of ideas”  (Montuori, 2013, p. 45), which would otherwise not be revealed. Such an inquiry is especially  necessary in the study of a cross-cutting theme and common field of action like urban rivers. The  following sections are meant to reveal, categorize and translate principles scattered across disciplines  dealing with urban rivers and to synthesize them in a spatial-morphological definition of URCs. TOC 66 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 2.2.1 Urban rivers at the interface between city and nature The relationship between the city and nature has been an increasingly important subject of  research since the end of the 19th century. This trend was prompted by the negative environmental  consequences of the Industrial Revolution, such as air and water pollution, deforestation, and  landscape fragmentation. Contemporary to this phenomenon, Patrick Geddes (1915) was one of  the first to draw the attention to the faults of the industrialising city by proposing a holistic vision, in  which humans were inherent part of nature, and the city, the highest form of human evolutionary  development, was understood as part of a region (Welter, 2002). Geddes’s was the first of a series of key moments of awareness in a century-long (and ongoing)  discussion on environmental issues related to urban design and planning. The environmental  discourse of the 1960s, represented by Rachel Carson (1962), Ian McHarg (1969), and Lewis  Mumford (1968), followed by the process-oriented approach of Michael Hough (1984) and Ann  Whiston Spirn (1984) have led to the emergence of an environmentalist approach in the fields of  landscape architecture (Spirn, 2000), landscape ecology, including Sybrand Tjallingii’s Écopolis (1995) and Ecological Conditions Strategy (1996), urbanism and architecture (Beatley, 2011), and  landscape urbanism (Waldheim, 2006 , 2016). At the same time, the years of exponential economic and population growth following WWII had  started another wave of environmental awareness, in which sustainability had come to the forefront  of global developmental concerns (Brundtland, 1987). The model proposed by Donella Meadows and  her colleagues in their seminal book Limits to Growth (Meadows, Meadows, Randers, & William W.  Behrens III, 1972) showed that, if trends of that time—population growth, industrialisation, pollution,  food production and resource depletion—continued, the world would exceed its carrying capacity  irreversibly by the year 2100.13 Arguably, a third wave of environmental awareness takes place today, this time under the watchword  of resilience, in response to an increasing number of acute shocks and chronic stresses (da Silva  & Moench, 2014), which are mainly caused by climate change, but also by the challenges of  global population growth, resource depletion, and increasing levels of interconnectedness due to globalisation. Even after a century since Geddes (1915) put forward his evolutionary perspective and  emphasised the interlinkages between man and nature on regional scale, the tension between city and  nature is still present. One of the places where this tension has increasingly become visible is along the rivers crossing urban  areas (Tjallingii, 2015). In early human settlements, rivers provided the best environment for flood- based agriculture, transportation and strategic defence (Kostof, 1992). Later, as those settlements  developed, wetland drainage further improved agriculture, channelization provided better conditions  for boat traffic, and embanking and dredging allowed for flood control (Petts, Heathcote, & Martin,  2002). Cities found these conditions usually in low-plain areas, in the transporting or dispersing  sections of the river system.14 Low-lying locations have always been advantageous for settlements  13  In their 30-year update, the authors of Limits to Growth (Meadows et al., 2004) state that the new predictions are worse than the  ones of the 1970s. 14  River systems are divided into three major parts: the collecting system (the network of upstream tributaries), the transporting  system (the main channel), and the dispersing system (delta or estuary) (Hamblin & Christiansen, 2003). TOC 67  Urban rivers at the interface between city and nature because their flat topography made expansion easier than in upstream locations and because the land  was usually more fit for agricultural production. Yet the same locations are the most vulnerable to  environmental disturbances, such as floods and draughts. In Europe, three major trends have driven the search (in research and practice) for a resilient  relationship between rivers and their urban surroundings (Prominski et al., 2017): the revival of  waterside development (Samant & Brears, 2017); the high ecological standards set by the EU Water  Framework Directive (see Section 2.2.4), and the need for flood protection measures driven by climate  change. Accordingly, a new vision, expressed at least a decade earlier, promoted an “intimate link  between community and nature”, in which the waterfront could become “a desirable place to live  and work” and “new developments and river corridors […] can be arteries for transforming entire  conurbations” (Petts et al., 2002, p. 3).  It is against the backdrop of this growing concern for social-ecological integration, in general, and  the increasing tension between urbanisation and rivers, in particular, that the concept of URCs is elaborated in this thesis. URCs are at the same time artificial and natural, large- and small-scale,  functional and experiential, ecological and social, to name just the extremes of a wide range of in- between variations of their multivalence. Landscape-related fields (landscape ecology, landscape  architecture and landscape urbanism), engineering fields (hydrology, hydrogeology, hydraulic  engineering, river ecology), and design-related fields (architecture and urban design, in addition  to landscape architecture already mentioned above), are all directly concerned with the spatial  relationship between city and river. Given this hybrid nature of URCs, the literature review presented  in this section provides a transdisciplinary overview of the topic, building up gradually towards the  domain of focus in this thesis, which is spatial morphology. Hence, the author recognises—and this will be visible throughout the literature review—that very  few perspectives presented below are purely limited to one discipline and instead resort to a certain  degree of multidisciplinarity. Yet, as a categorisation is required for a systematic review, four domain  families will be used to group current approaches found in literature into environmental-ecological (Section 2.2.2), social-economic (Section 2.2.3), planning-governance (Section 2.2.4), and spatial- morphological (Section 2.2.5). A synthesis of key concepts derived from these approaches will be given  in Section 2.2.6. With a few exceptions (e.g. Lerner & Holt, 2012),15 the phrase ‘urban river corridors’ has been seldom  used as such in literature. Other terms needed to be included in the review for a thorough scan of  the subject matter. In this sense, the literature review is meant to (1) establish a common language  between disciplines, to (2) build up a substantiated knowledge base of concepts, models and  principles used in other disciplines, and, as a synthesis of that knowledge, to (3) provide a spatial- morphological definition of URCs. For this purpose, each of the four sections starts with a set of  domain-specific definitions and concludes with a set of transferable principles. 15  As part of the EU-funded project Urban River Corridors and Sustainable Living Agendas (URSULA), Lerner & Holt (2012) use the  phrase 'urban river corridor' as a central concept and spatial unit in urban river management. TOC 68 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 2.2.2 The environmental-ecological dimension This dimension explores the system of the river as a natural infrastructure and the services that  it provides to the city. It discusses approaches related to human impact on river morphology and  ecology, urban river restoration, ecological and hydrological connectivity, as well as Green and Blue  Infrastructure as a prominent concept in environmental rehabilitation. Table 2.1 offers a reference of  key concepts described in this section. TABLE 2.1  Definition of key terms required for the understanding of the environmental and ecological dimension of URCs. TERM DEFINITION SOURCE Catchment basin “a main channel and all of the tributaries that flow into it […] bounded by a  divide (ridge), beyond which water is drained by another system.” Hamblin & Christiansen (2003,  p. 299) Ecosystem services “the direct and indirect contributions of ecosystems to human well-being”,  categorized as provisioning, regulating, supporting and cultural ecosystem  services. Groot, Braat, & Costanza. (2017, p. 31); MEA (2005);  Mader & Berghöfer (2011) Ecological connectivity In river ecology, connectivity is defined in three dimensions: lateral (interac- tions with the watershed, geomorphology, and material and species movement  between water and land), longitudinal (migration of species and flows of  materials up and down the stream), and vertical (e.g. exchanges between river  and groundwater). May (2006) Floodplain “A floodplain is the area affected by water that has extended beyond the normal  banks of a stream, river, pond, or lake.” Vermont Agency of Natural  Resources (2004) Fluvial geomorphology The study of “the shapes of river channels and how they change over time.” Everard & Quinn (2015) Green and blue infrastructure GBI aims to recreate a natural water cycle and to contribute to the amenity of  the city by combining water management and green infrastructure in urban  environments. Perini & Sabbion (2017) Hydrological connectivity “water-mediated transfer of matter, energy and/or organisms within or be- tween elements of the hydrologic cycle” on one temporal dimension and three  spatial dimensions (longitudinal, lateral and vertical). Pringle (2003, pp. 2685–2686) River corridor “The area that the stream or river needs to maintain physical/geomorphic equi- librium” and “the land area adjacent to a river that is required to accommodate  the dimensions, slope, planform, and buffer of the naturally stable channel […]” Vermont Agency of Natural  Resources (2004) River restoration “a large variety of ecological, physical, spatial and management measures and  practices […] aimed at restoring the natural state and functioning of the river  system in support of biodiversity, recreation, flood management and landscape  development.” ECRR (accessed 12-06-2016) River rehabilitation Different from restoration, rehabilitation is used to repair, not necessarily to  return to a pre-existing condition. Palmer et al. (2005) River valley An elongated lowland formed by flowing water. Baschak & Brown (1995) Urban stream “A stream where a significant part of the contributing catchment consists of  development where the combined area of roofs, roads and paved surfaces  results in an impervious surface area characterising greater than 10% of the  catchment.” Findlay & Taylor (2006, p. 313) Anthropogenic pressures on fluvial geomorphology and ecology Referred to as the ‘urban stream syndrome’ (Walsh et al., 2005), the negative effects of urbanisation  on stream- and river ecosystems have been widely acknowledged (e.g. Gregory, 2006; Bernhardt and  Palmer, 2007; Vietz et al., 2016). The extent of human impact on fluvial geomorphology, environment  and ecology is visible in a number of co-occurring and aggravating symptoms, such as reduced  TOC 69  The environmental-ecological dimension biodiversity, increasing temperatures, decreasing water quality, altered flow and sedimentation  regimes, and river channel degradation. In response to these symptoms, river restoration and rehabilitation have been increasingly employed environmental improvement strategies for urban  rivers (e.g. the restoration of River Isar in Munich). River restoration, according to the European  Centre for River Restoration (ECRR), “refers to a large variety of ecological, physical, spatial and  management measures and practices […] aimed at restoring the natural state and functioning of the  river system in support of biodiversity, recreation, flood management and landscape development.” As  a marker of this trend, Figure 2.1 shows a sudden increase of the phrases ‘river restoration’ and ‘river  rehabilitation’ in general literature since the 1990s. FIGURE 2.1  The use of key terms related to riverside urban transformation in general literature between 1940-2008. Source: Google ngram viewer  (Accessed: 2 August 2017) Even though river restoration has been increasingly popular all around the world, it still faces  challenges, resistance and lacks integration with other development goals, such as compact and  dense urban development. Vietz et al. (2016) identify five key challenges that need to be considered  in current river restoration practices: excess storm water runoff, insufficient riparian space, altered sediment regimes, legacy impacts, and social and institutional challenges. Further, as a critique to the  ineffectiveness of current channel-based approaches in river restoration such as channelization and  channel reconstruction, Vietz et al. (2016) promote catchment-scale approaches, which are based on dynamic, complex, and self-sustaining streams, suggesting that only this way the causes, rather than  the symptoms, of channel degradation will be addressed. However, as self-regulating streams require  more space than channelized streams, they are more likely to be applicable to low density urban areas  and towards medium- and long-term goals. Wohl and Merritts (2007) investigate how human interventions throughout history affected the  perception of what a natural river is and the way that perception influences strategies of river  restoration. The authors suggest that historical or similar references need to be employed carefully  in river restoration, as the majority of rivers worldwide (including those that seem to be natural)  have been altered one way or another by humans. In order to avoid misled decisions (e.g. imposing  meandering streams on a landscape where braided streams would be more appropriate), restorations  need to be “firmly grounded in knowledge of how human activities altered a particular river” (Wohl &  TOC 70 Integrated Urban River Corridors Merritts, 2007, p. 872). It is more desirable to aim for rivers which are self-sustaining and integrated  into the surrounding landscape than to try to recreate historical conditions. Even when possibilities  river restoration are partial (which is the case most of the time for urban rivers), a better understanding  of past dynamics is key to any design. As pointed out by Wohl and Merritts (2007), ‘natural’ and ‘stable’ are two problematic concepts  when applied to river form and process. How much human intervention is acceptable to a river to be  still considered natural? Surrounding land use, even when it is unbuilt such as agriculture, can move  away a river from its natural state. In addition, stability needs to be understood at the right (spatial  and temporal) scale of reference. For instance, a river may be stable over a short period of time, but  substantially change after a 100-year flood. Linking ecology and hydrology Agreement on terminology, conceptual frameworks, and experimental approaches between ecology  and hydrology has still to be achieved for integrated catchment-scale approaches (Tetzlaff et al.,  2007). A potentially integrating concept is connectivity, based on a view borrowed from landscape  ecology in which the riverine ecosystem of the ‘riverscape’ and the catchment ‘landscape’ are in a  close relation (Tetzlaff et al., 2007). Hydrologic connectivity, in an ecological sense, is defined by  Pringle (2003, p. 2685) as “water-mediated transfer of matter, energy and/or organisms within or  between elements of the hydrologic cycle”. Like in ecology, hydrologic connectivity uses the conceptual  framework of three spatial dimensions, together with the dimension of time, to understand human  impacts on the river ecosystem—longitudinal (headwater-estuarine); lateral (riparian-floodplain);  and vertical (riverine-groundwater) (Pringle, 2003). A joint understanding of ecological and hydrologic  connectivity is especially important when considering the degree to which connectivity has been  altered by human activities (Pringle, 2003), such as the disconnection from tributaries or groundwater  through canalisation, or altered river flow through water abstraction. Green and blue infrastructure If river restoration, marked by ecological and hydrological connectivity, represent a more river-centred  perspective, Green Infrastructure (GI) and Green and Blue Infrastructure (GBI) approaches are  more urban-centred and have been increasingly employed in urban planning and design. The main  argument is that even though sustainable urban form is compact and dense (Jabareen, 2006; Jenks &  Jones, 2010), it also requires Green Infrastructure (GI), i.e. an interconnected network of green spaces  that supports ecosystem functions and delivers multiple benefits to humans (Benedict & McMahon,  2006). The multiple benefits of green infrastructure may be described through the lens of ecosystem services (ES) as provisioning, regulating, supporting and cultural (MEA, 2005; Mader & Berghöfer,  2011). In urban environments, GIs are prime providers of ecosystem services mainly in the regulating  and cultural category. Regulating urban ecosystem services include micro- and meso-climate  regulation, storm water control, while cultural ecosystem services are non-material services, such as  recreation, aesthetic values and tourism. GI has different roles depending on the scale on which it is  employed: on regional and national scale, it represents a multifunctional open space network, whereas  at the local and site scale it has a role in storm water management (Rouse & Bunster-Ossa, 2013;  cited by Perini & Sabbion, 2017). Green and Blue Infrastructure (GBI) integrates GI and water management by emphasising the  interlinkages between the network of green spaces and the water network (Henriquez & van  TOC 71  The environmental-ecological dimension Timmeren, 2017). GBI is furthermore an integrative concept because it promotes multifunctionality  and because it offers multiple environmental, ecological, social, and cultural benefits (Perini &  Sabbion, 2017), which are characteristics lacking from grey infrastructure solutions. Important  in relation to the concept of GBI is the recognition that blue (water) infrastructure should not be  conceived as a linear system that drains rainwater and sewage waste through the city as fast as  possible (Walsh et al., 2005), but as a spatial system defined on large scale as the catchment, and as the valley or floodplain at lower scales. Depending on the extent of urbanisation, the river valley as a  surface may act like a 'sponge' when it is covered with vegetation, or as an 'umbrella' if it is impervious  (Perini & Sabbion, 2017). Flooding, both as a result of higher levels of river discharge (water from upstream) and of increased  storm-water runoff (rainwater drained through urban space), is one of the main issues targeted by  GBI. The shift from flood control to flood management (Zevenbergen et al., 2012) signals a growing  tendency towards the adoption of flexible and adaptive approaches to water management in the urban  environment. Also, emerging flood risk management approaches that tend to integrate GBI with urban  planning include: integrated catchment management, integrated flood risk management, storm  water Best Management Practices in the US and Canada, blue-green cities and Sustainable Urban  Drainage Systems (SuDS) in the UK, water sensitive urban design (WSUD) in Australia, Low Impact  Development (LID) in the US, Low Impact Urban Development and Design (LIUDD) in New Zealand,  transition town planning, Integrated Water Resource Management (IWRM), water urbanism, and  integrated urban water management (Perini & Sabbion, 2017). GBIs can be grouped into vegetated and non-vegetated approaches. Vegetated systems are the most effective in providing ecosystem services, given their extensive use of natural processes for  environmental purposes. In terms of landscape ecology, large interconnected patches and corridors  are important for the internal (within the city) and external (with the surrounding landscape)  connectivity of habitats and, as a result, for increased biodiversity (Forman, 2014). As a particular  form of corridor-level solution, the “restoration of natural riparian systems and wetlands found in  river and stream corridors is one of the best practices to implement the natural equilibrium of flow,  sediment, movement, temperature, and biodiversity” (Perini & Sabbion, 2017, p. 49). Greenbelts  and green structures (Tjallingii, 2006), greenways (e.g. F. L. Olmsted’s Boston Emerald Necklace),  or green streets, often employed in urban planning, are concepts that may incorporate vegetated  GBI approaches. Examples of vegetated systems include vegetated biofilters, infiltration systems,  bioretention systems, wetland ponds and green roofs (Perini & Sabbion, 2017). When there is no  space for such vegetated solutions, which is the case especially in densely built central urban areas,  non-vegetated systems can offer some solutions such as temporary water storage (e.g. water squares)  or increased infiltration through pervious pavements. Vegetated and non-vegetated systems may be  applied interchangeably at site scale, depending on site particularities, but corridor-scale approaches  most often combine techniques from both systems. Both vegetated and non-vegetated GBI have a  great contribution in terms of urban ecosystem services (EC, 2013). GBI can improve urban resilience  at different spatial scales and it supports hydrologic connectivity at catchment scale. As outlined above, GBI can provide a spatial framework to alleviate habitat fragmentation (Perini  & Sabbion, 2017) and to guide sustainable urban development (Tzoulas et al., 2007). Increased  interconnectedness of habitat patches and the surrounding matrix, together with habitat  heterogeneity can be considered beneficial for the resilience of the corridor ecosystem. Multiscalarity is another important theme in both GI and GBI approaches (Benedict & McMahon, 2006; Perini  & Sabbion, 2017; Rouse & Bunster-Ossa, 2013). According to Benedict and McMahon (2006), GI  can be devised at all scales, from the individual parcel, through the local community, to national  or supra-national level, respectively as green space design at parcel level, a system of green ways at  TOC 72 Integrated Urban River Corridors neighbourhood level, and as a protection network of large natural areas on a regional and state level.  Physical and functional connections across scales, according to Rouse and Bunster-Ossa (2013), are of  increasing strategic importance for long-term environmental and ecological goals. Environmental and ecological principles The following principles emerge from the review of environmental and ecological aspects of URCs: – The physical configuration of the river valley is important for understanding the extent of human  pressure on fluvial geomorphology and for identifying potential spaces for improving river ecology. – River restoration and rehabilitation require sufficient riparian space to allow for storm water storage  and river dynamics. River restoration must be employed at the right scale: a proper understanding of catchment-scale dynamics is needed for effective channel-scale interventions. In urban areas, most  of the time river restoration is partial, therefore a proper understanding of past river dynamics is essential. – GI and GBI solutions are effective and proven approaches to integrate natural processes in urban areas, while providing urban ecosystem services. Vegetated and non-vegetated solutions in URCs can be  used interchangeably or in combination. – A multi-scale approach is essential to a systemic understanding of the river corridor. Besides channel- scale approaches, catchment-scale approaches to river dynamics are important to treat the causes  rather than the symptoms of channel degradation. Multiscalarity allows for physical and functional  connections across scales. – Connectivity is an integrative concept. Ecological as well as hydrologic connectivity must be  understood in three spatial dimensions: longitudinal, lateral and vertical. In addition, the temporal  scale represents the fourth dimension of connectivity in river corridors. – Heterogeneous habitats are considered to be more resilient than homogeneous ones. § 2.2.3 The social-economic dimension Related to the cultural branch of ecosystem services offered by urban rivers, this section brings  together approaches focusing on social and economic aspects of urban rivers. A selection of key  concepts described in this section is included in Table 2.2. TABLE 2.2  Definition of key terms for the understanding of the social and economic dimension of URCs. TERM DEFINITION SOURCE Open space amenity Open space which is desirable or useful for the community, e.g. a park, sports  area or promenade. Stevens (2009) Social connectivity of urban rivers The way people, goods, ideas, and culture move along and across rivers. Kondolf & Pinto (2017) Waterfront An urban area located near- and oriented towards the water. Samant & Brears (2017) Waterfront redevelopment/ regeneration A waterside urban area transformed usually from a former land use, such as  an industry or port, into a residential or mixed-use area, including spaces with  public access. Gordon (1996) TOC 73  The social-economic dimension The waterfront as a social and economic attractor In his book Aquatecture, Anthony Wylson (1986) uses the phrase ‘urban river corridors’ when  referring to the space of the river as delineated by the architectural envelope of the waterfront.  Although he acknowledged the importance of integrating the amenity value of the URC with neglected  ecological aspects, Wylson did not elaborate on the spatial implications of such an integration. Still, he  was one of the early discussants of waterfront regeneration emerging at that time (Figure 2.1), mainly  investigating the architectural potentials of the waterfront. In an international multiple-case study of four prominent urban waterfront redevelopment projects  from the 1970s and 1980s,16 Gordon (1996) concludes that waterfront redevelopment plans are  successful when they lead to “improving image; adapting and reusing existing built form; improving  public accessibility; integrating waterfronts with their urban surroundings and with the water; thinking  small and planning in increments” (Stevens, 2009, p. 19). Drawing from the empirical base of his case  study, Gordon (1996) posits that the negative image of isolation and decay of former harbour areas  can be successfully improved through historic preservation and better public access. Accessibility can  be achieved by overcoming physical and mental barriers inherited from former land uses. Continuous  waterside promenades and connections to surrounding urban areas acting as access- and view  corridors are measures that can improve both public access and image. In addition, Gordon concludes  that the quality of the physical environment can be ensured by focusing on the design of public infrastructure as well as public uses at grade in adjacent buildings, incremental implementation of infrastructure, and increased diversity. In Gordon’s study, the waterfront is examined rather as a strategic location for urban redevelopment  with a strong political and planning dimension, than a place of interaction between water and land.  More recently, Samant and Brears (2017) give an overview of ecological approaches to waterfront  redevelopment, with emphasis on social and environmental sustainability, in which they refer to the  waterfront as the “delicate interface between land and water [as] integral to a city’s wider network of  open and green spaces” (Samant & Brears, 2017, p. 335), thus hinting at the importance of ecological  interconnectedness with the social networks of surrounding urban areas. Yet, even though current practices have been increasingly focusing on greening as a way to improve  the environmental qualities of waterfronts and to diminish “the negative impacts of ‘radically  unnatural ecologies’” (Stevens, 2009, cited by Samant & Brears, 2017, p. 334), there are still  challenges in safeguarding biodiversity in the face of rocketing economic attractiveness of waterside  areas. In his critique of the artificiality and superficiality of post-modern waterfront redevelopment,  Stevens (2009) points out four particularities of artificial waterfronts, as contrasted with a ‘natural’  relation between land and water. First, the taming of the waterfront implies a radical transformation  of the edge between land and water, “socially constructed to accord with human ideals of visual  attractiveness, health, and ease and safety of movement” (Stevens, 2009, p. 5). Second, he presents  augmented waterfronts as an extreme type.17 Third, he emphasises the importance of positioning the  waterfront both in terms of spatial, functional and conceptual reintegration and as part of the citizens’  mental map. In this sense, accessibility and imageability are notable yet conflicting properties, as  16  The four cases studied by Gordon (1996) were New York’s Battery Park City (BPC), London Docklands, Toronto’s Harbourfront and  Charleston Navy Yard (CNY) of Boston. 17  Augmented waterfronts, i.e. reconstructions of a waterfronts in indoor spaces, are a particular type which are outside the scope of  this thesis. TOC 74 Integrated Urban River Corridors “[t]he positioning of artificial waterfronts is a matter of conflict between social access and market  strategy” (Stevens, 2009, p. 18). Finally, Stevens describes changing waterfronts, recognising, like  Swyngedouw (2015) in his account of Lefebvre’s ‘second nature’, the fact that “waterfronts are new  nature, not a return to a prior condition” (Stevens, 2009, p. 18). According to Stevens (2009), a particularly important social need that waterfront areas serve is  the provision of open space amenity, a quality often overlooked in profit-driven waterside land  redevelopment aiming for ‘higher and better’. Having explored these particularities of artificial  waterfronts, Stevens adds to Gordon’s (1996) key factors of successful waterfront redevelopment  the following three aspects: (1) beyond the natural context of the river, waterfront image should  be understood as socially produced; (2) success often depends on separation and protection of a waterfront (e.g. quiet spaces for contemplation), as opposed to integration and accessibility; and (3)  successful waterfront leisure depends on materiality and human scale, that is, comfort and sensory  stimulation (Stevens, 2009). Overall, the spatial quality of waterfront areas, as observed in current practices, seems to be a factor  of growing importance for the economy of the city. However, the main qualities of waterfronts are  related mainly to visual rather than wider sensorial interactions with the river space. As Samant and  Brears (2017) point out, there is an increasing tendency of integrating waterfront development plans  with urban water management plans, a tendency that requires changing planning and governance  conditions. Social connectivity of urban rivers According to Kondolf and Pinto (2017), the social connectivity of urban rivers, or the way people,  goods, ideas, and culture move along and across rivers, can be described in terms of three-dimensional connectivity, that is, through longitudinal, lateral, and vertical connectivity. Longitudinal connectivity  characterises the activities that run along the river, such as navigation or riverside traffic corridors. The  scale of this type of connectivity is large, up to the scale of the river catchment. Lateral connectivity  refers, on one hand, to connections across the river and, on the other hand, to the way the river is  connected transversally to the surrounding urban fabric through the street network. This type of  connectivity can be observed on the scale of waterside urban districts and it has a key role in the  connectivity of the urban river corridor as a whole. Vertical connectivity refers to the direct interaction  between people and water, such as swimming, walking along the embankments, and the dynamic use  of floodable areas. This is the smallest in scale of all three types of connectivity. Attractiveness and imageability In a study on visual attractiveness as key to city-river integration in urban planning, Batista e Silva et  al. (2013) depart from the issue of segregation and disintegration as opposed to interdependence  (or mutual benefits18) and integration. They state that a visual model, based on vision and design, is  insufficiently employed at city and river-corridor scale, in contrast with current site-scale practices  that are driven by marketing strategies meant to promote urban development. Visual attractiveness, in  their opinion, can be used as a performance strategy. The difficulty of embracing large-scale landscape  18  The use of words interdependence or mutual benefits is arguable though; rivers can exist without cities. TOC 75  The social-economic dimension policies is clearly related to the complexity and multi-dimensional nature of the landscape and it  requires interdisciplinary teams and decision-making processes that are capable of a ‘holistic vision’.  In addition, the experiential use of the landscape is essential in understanding the users’ opinions,  perceptions and expectations. Having recognised these two needs, Batista e Silva et al. (2013)  base their findings on a combined assessment framework involving (1) experts for fundamental  and measurable viewpoints translated into descriptors and (2) residents from a case study area for  qualitative data on perception, preferences and aesthetic values.19 In reflection on their approach,  Batista e Silva et al. stress the importance of local specificity in interpreting the “multidimensional  world of aesthetical attractiveness” of URCs (Batista e Silva et al., 2013, p. 181). Social and economic principles The following themes emerge from social and economic approaches to city-river relationships: – Waterfronts are socially constructed, meaning that total renaturalisation is neither possible, nor  desired. On the other hand, purely profit-driven waterside development must not be attained either,  as it might damage the riparian ecosystem and the hydrological performance of the site. A balance  that is both economically feasible and ecologically responsible must be sought. – Three-dimensional (i.e. longitudinal, lateral and vertical) connectivity is a frame that can be used to  describe human and social activities in relation to the river. – Accessibility or public access is one of the key features of a well-functioning waterfront. Access is given  through routes towards- and promenades along the water. In addition, pockets of inaccessibility or  invisibility may be desired by certain users. Such spaces, where nature and slow mobility recreation  prevails, can contribute to a diverse user experience and spatial design. – The spatial integration of landmarks in the image of the waterfront as seen along the river space or from one shore to another, as well as visibility towards and along the river space, play an important  role in defining iconic places that contribute to the identity of the waterfront. – Waterside open space is an important amenity. Waterfront redevelopment needs to integrate open  spaces with built-up areas. These spaces can then be connected to the public space network of the  city, thus consolidating the relationship of the city with the waterfront. – Human scale is an important prerequisite for waterfront leisure. This requirement needs to be taken  into consideration in the redesign of former land uses, which are often large industrial areas. 19  All measurement scales of both the expert viewpoints and the users’ perception were standardised to a 0-100 cardinal scale. TOC 76 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 2.2.4 The planning-governance dimension This section reviews approaches focusing on the integration of the urban system and the river system  through planning on different scales, with a focus on the European system of environmental planning.  Key terms used in this section are provided for reference in Table 2.3. TABLE 2.3  Definition of key terms for the understanding of the planning and governance dimension of URCs. TERM DEFINITION SOURCE Integration Integrated planning Integration is “an ‘anchoring notion’ of sustainable urban development.” “An integrated plan for sustainable urban development comprises a system  of interlinked actions which seeks to bring about a lasting improvement in the  economic, physical, social and environmental conditions of a city or an area  within the city.” Pieterse, (2004) quoted in  Batista e Silva et al., (2013) JESSICA (Carbonaro, 2010) Multiscalarity The use of multiple scales to understand the context, focus and details of a  complex situation. Turner & Gardner (2015) Multidisciplinarity Drawing on multiple disciplines to understand and deal with complex problems  which are outside the boundaries of one discipline. [To be understood together  with trans- and inter-disciplinarity.] Ramadier (2004) River Basin District (RBD) RBDs are the main river basin management units delineated by Member States,  as required by the Water Framework Directive (WFD) of the European Union. Perini & Sabbion (2017) River Contracts Flexible, mid- or long-term programs for integrated river management and  water resources at catchment scale. Ingaramo & Voghera (2016)  Scaduto (2016) European trends in environmental planning Since the mid-twentieth century, legislation in environmental planning has increased with an  accelerated pace and has been implemented at various spatial scales (Ndubisi, 2014), from top- down policies on international, national and regional level to local level plans, as seen in the recently  escalating trend of bottom-up initiatives (Perini & Sabbion, 2017). Environmental planning in  Europe is particularly top-down policy driven—i.e. it is regulated on international and Member State  level—and it concentrates on “the preservation of air and water quality, conservation of resources  and biodiversity, waste management, and adverse environmental impacts” (Perini & Sabbion,  2017, p. 163). With a long-term vision for 2050, the 7th Environmental Action Program (EAP) of  the European Union20 aims “to protect nature and strengthen ecological resilience, boost resource- efficient, low-carbon growth, and reduce threats to human health and wellbeing linked to pollution,  chemical substances, and the impacts of climate change” (EC, 2014). Regulation 1293/2013 on the  Programme for the Environment and Climate Action (LIFE) (EU, 2013c) and Decision 1386/2013/ EU on the General Union Environment Action Programme (EU, 2013a) are provisions meant to arrest  the degradation of ecosystems and the loss of biodiversity by 2020, including, in the case of Decision  1386/2013, the expansion of GI to overcome landscape fragmentation (Perini & Sabbion, 2017). In  addition, the Birds Directive (EU, 2009) and Habitats Directive (EC, 1992) and the Prioritised Action  Frameworks, integrated with the European Commission Communication on Green Infrastructure  (2013), focus on enhancing natural capital and ecosystem resilience. 20 The 7th Environmental Action Program (EAP) of the European Union is the main guiding program for environmental policy until  2020. TOC 77  The planning-governance dimension Water-related policies The main policies specifically dealing with water in Europe, namely Directive 2013/39/EU (EU,  2013b), amending the Water Framework Directive (WFD) 2000/60/EC (EU, 2000), the Directive  on environmental quality standards in the field of water policy 2008/105/EC (EU, 2008), and the  Directive on the Protection of Underground Waters 2006/118/EC state that good status needs to be  attained for surface- and groundwater (EU, 2006).21 One of the most important features of the WFD  is that it adopts a morphological, catchment-scale approach,22 as it requires plans at the scale of River  Basin Districts (RBDs) in all EU Member States. Flood risk, one of the main drivers of water-related environmental policy, is not covered by the  WFD. Instead, it is the subject of the Flood Directive 2007/60/EC (EU, 2007) that emphasizes  prevention, including “improvement of water retention as well as flooding” (European Parliament and  Commission, 2012, cited by Perini & Sabbion, 2017). Large scale river rehabilitation projects, usually  driven by the necessity of flood risk reduction, have been implemented in some European countries,  such as Austria, Denmark, Germany and the Netherlands (Perini & Sabbion, 2017). For instance,  Rotterdam Climate Proof, part of Rotterdam Climate Initiative, aims to reach a number of climate  resilience targets by 2025, including flood resilience, better air quality and more green spaces (RCI,  2015).  With a wider scope, the EU Strategy on Adaptation to Climate Change is concerned with adaptation  towards a climate proof and resilient Europe. The actions put forward by the Adaptation Strategy  include flood resilience and ecosystem-based approaches drawn on the results of the European  Commission Communication on Green Infrastructure (EC, 2013). Consisting of a proven set of  measures, GBI is a priority for EU2020 targets, as it can “curb the negative effects of climate-related  hazards, including storm surges, extreme precipitation, and floods” (EEA, 2012) and it can provide  multiple environmental (biodiversity conservation and climate change adaptation) and social (e.g.  water drainage and the provision of green spaces) benefits (EEA, 2015), as well as economic benefits,  such as jobs in landscape management, recreation and tourism. Seen from a global perspective, safeguarding surface- and groundwater supplies from contamination  in the face of global population growth, mitigating conflicts in cross-border catchment management,  especially in developing countries, are issues that have been declared matters of high priority in  international programmes such as the United Nations’ Agenda 21 (UNICED, 1992). Based on lessons  learned from developed economies, Petts et al. (2002) highlight five important river functions that  must be sustained through planning policies seeking to restore, maintain or revitalize “blue arteries”:  drainage and water supply; open space and ecological conditions; transport networks; recreational,  leisure and tourist facilities; and a setting for and access to new development and heritage sites (Petts  et al., 2002, p. 115). 21  This requirement refers to chemical and ecological aspects of surface water and chemical and quantitative aspects for groundwater. 22  This approach is morphological, because it is “based on hydrological boundaries rather than on administrative boundaries to better  address ecological issues” (Quevauviller et al. (eds.), 2008, cited in Perini & Sabbion, 2017). TOC 78 Integrated Urban River Corridors Local implementation As required by the WFD, participatory planning—i.e. the active engagement of local communities,  economic stakeholders, in dialogue with local administrations and institutions—has an important  role to play in policies targeting river catchments. In order to meet this requirement, Member States  need to transpose top-down environmental policy into local instruments. Several experiences of  integrated water management have been devised in the last two decades, challenged especially by  the “paradigm shift from government to governance of river basin districts” introduced by the WFD  (Scaduto, 2016, p.19). As a particularly innovative instrument for the local implementation of the  WFD, River Contracts (Ingaramo & Voghera, 2016; Scaduto, 2016) are flexible, mid- or long-term  programs for integrated river management and water resources at catchment scale. In short, River  Contracts (RC) are instruments meant to facilitate the communication between stakeholders and  sectors and to build shared responsibility between public and private actors. Since the 1980s, RC  experiences have been recorded in a number of European countries, namely in France, Belgium,  Luxembourg, Spain, Switzerland, Italy, Netherlands, Germany, England, and Greece, but also outside  Europe (Scaduto, 2016). Another model, suggested by Lerner and Holt (2012) for the scale of the urban river corridor, is  partnership working capable of “handling the complexity of issues and potentially competing interests  in environmental management” (Lerner & Holt, 2012, p. 726). In this model, stakeholder groups  join forces, pool knowledge and resources in a formal but voluntary way to analyse and deliver a  strategy. According to Lerner and Holt, partnership working has been proven effective in catchment  management, therefore it should work in urban river corridor management as well. On the scale of the channel, one particular issue is the difficulty of reserving buffers and floodplains  along urbanised rivers due to land tenure (Vietz et al., 2016). Instruments for negotiation, such as  River Contracts mentioned above, comprising an inclusive participatory planning process are crucial  in order to negotiate towards incentives and equitable solutions for well-functioning ecological  and hydrologic buffers. Moreover, the balance between densification and open space amenity, as  suggested by Gordon (1996), has to be well understood from an economic perspective in order to  incentivise developers to capitalise on unbuilt space. Planning and governance principles The following themes emerge from planning and governance approaches to city-river relationships: – Multiscalar approaches are essential for a proper understanding of the corridor system across scales  and for a delineation of actions and policy plans to enhance integrated approaches. Two conclusions  can be drawn: (1) plans and policies need to be prioritised correctly and implemented at the right scales, and (2) planning on multiple scales is important in order to link top-down policy to bottom- up needs and initiatives. The WFD’s requirement for catchment-scale planning improves the  understanding of the complex ecologic, hydrologic, social and institutional context of rivers, but poses  challenges for implementation locally. Hence, there is a need for local instruments for participation  and sharing responsibility between public and private actors. – Integration on all levels of planning and governance, between different sectors with interest in  catchment- or channel-scale development, or across multiple scales from community to region, to  foster the spatial implementation of integrated plans, developed to remain highly context-specific. TOC 79  The spatial-morphological dimension – Resilience to climate change is a major theme in current environmental policy in Europe and  worldwide. Local solutions must integrate natural dynamics with local needs in order to reach targets of resilience. § 2.2.5 The spatial-morphological dimension This section reviews spatial-morphological approaches to URCs from the perspective of landscape  ecology, spatial aspects of connectivity, and design. Key concepts used in this section are included in  Table 2.4. TABLE 2.4  Definition of key terms for the understanding of the spatial and morphological dimension of URCs. TERM DEFINITION SOURCE Land mosaics A concept in landscape ecology, according to which the landscape can be classi- fied in three types of components: corridors, patches, and matrix. The patterns  formed by these components can be used to describe and assess ecologic  processes. Forman & Godron (1986);  Forman (1995) Riverfront The space along the river delineated by the built front. Batista e Silva et al. (2004;  2013) Riverscape Rivers seen as “linear, spatially continuous, heterogeneous habitat patches  (Schlosser, 1991) that are intimately linked to their catchment landscapes  (Stanford, 2006)” Tetzlaff et al., (2007, p. 1386) Land mosaics Landscape ecology is a field concerned with pattern and process in the landscape to describe the  relationship between ecosystems and their environment. ‘Land mosaics’ is a concept in landscape  ecology, according to which the landscape can be classified in three types of components: corridors for species’ movement, habitat patches, and an interconnected background matrix surrounding patches and corridors (Forman, 1995; Forman & Godron, 1986). According to this concept, the patterns  formed by these components can be used to describe ecologic processes. Acknowledging the difficulty  of communicating the concepts of land mosaics across planning and design disciplines, Dramstad,  Olson and Forman (Dramstad et al., 1996) have developed a set of landscape ecology principles  which explain typical relationships within and between the three components. Their concise but  comprehensive set includes habitat distribution along stream and river corridors, as well as patterns  of patches as stepping stones that can be easily applied to features of urban rivers, such as open space  alternation along the river bank or the distribution of green areas along the corridor. Like Dramstad et al., Manning (1997) puts forward a set of landscape design principles and guidelines  for riverside areas. Manning is in favour of social-ecological integration with his first principle,  according to which recreational and aesthetic values need to be combined with ecological values  in any design. In his view, the elements of the landscape—such as topography, vegetation and  climate—provide a basis for design which integrate ecology with human movement and activities.  Diversity, especially in terms of edge-complexity (i.e. convolution and curvature), both on macro  (corridor) and micro (river edge) scale, is key to creating the conditions for human-nature coexistence.  Structural gradients between areas of extensive and intensive anthropic pressure, just like ecotones  TOC 80 Integrated Urban River Corridors in ecology, must be preserved in order to maximise diversity. With examples, such as Glasgow, Paris,  Ottawa, Köln and London, Manning illustrates his guidelines for the design of contact zones (edges),  circulation (hierarchies of routes) and crossings (mainly bridges), as important landscape elements for  integration. Urban landscape ecology Defined by Richard Forman as the study of “interaction of organisms, built structures and the physical  environment where people are concentrated” (Forman, 2014, p. 27), urban ecology sets a promising  frame for an integrative approach. Forman combines the formerly established theory of landscape  ecology (Dramstad et al., 1996; Forman & Godron, 1986) and model of land mosaics (Forman, 1995)  with his extensive study of urban regions (Forman, 2008) into urban ecology principles.23 As an update to the one dimensional urban-rural gradient model—similar to the urban-rural  transect (Duany & Talen, 2002; Geddes, 1915; McHarg, 1969)—, Forman’s land mosaic model  provides a two-dimensional framework of classifying the surface of the urban region, metro area,  city or neighbourhood24 into patches, corridors, and matrix (Forman, 2014, pp. 98–99). This model  effectively simplifies (without over-simplifying) the complex configuration of the urban environment. Two particular types of urban land mosaics are especially relevant for riverside urban areas: interwoven and corridor-centred mosaics. Interwoven mosaics comprise “a group of landscape elements tied  together by strong interactions” (Forman, 2014, p. 109). The presence of outer barriers, the area  of influence of an internal organising force, or the spatial reach of internal activities determine the  extent of interwoven mosaics. Due to the tight configuration of interwoven mosaics, flows are mainly  perpendicular on the boundaries between patches. As urban rivers are corridors which tend to be organising forces in the areas that they cross, corridor-centred mosaics are of particular interest  here. Key variables of such mosaics are corridor width, connectivity, habitat quality, and straightness/ convolution (Forman, 2014, pp. 120–121). The spatial configuration of urban green infrastructure has an important role in supporting ecological  functions and in achieving social-ecological integration (Ahern, 2007). By applying Foreman’s land  mosaics model (1995) from landscape ecology, Ahern proposes a classification of the spatial elements  of the urban landscape into urban patches (parks, sports fields, wetlands, etc.), urban corridors (rivers,  canals, drainage ways, etc.), and urban matrix (residential neighbourhoods, industrial districts, etc.).  In order to support ecological functions, GI must have a networked spatial configuration (Benedict  & McMahon, 2006; EC, 2013). According to Ahern, key principles from landscape ecology relevant  for a functional spatial configuration of GI are connectivity, i.e. “the degree to which the landscape  facilitates or impedes the flow of energy, materials, nutrients, species, and people across a landscape”  (Ahern, 2007, p.270)—as opposed to fragmentation—, multiscalarity, also mentioned by Perini and  Sabbion (2017, p. 5) as the need to “establish physical and functional connections across scales  to link sites and neighbourhoods to cities and regions”, and the recognition of pattern-process as a “fundamental axiom of landscape ecology”. 23  Perhaps this approach could be more appropriately called 'urban landscape ecology' as it has a particularly strong spatial dimension,  compared to other urban ecology approaches focusing more on urban organism-environment relations. 24  A common (but not exclusive) set of scales proposed by Foreman is: megalopolis, urban region, metro area, city, residential area,  neighbourhood, housing development, house plot, and vegetable garden (Foreman, 2014, p.81) TOC 81  The spatial-morphological dimension Spatial dimensions of ecological and social connectivity As shown in Sections 2.2.2 and 2.2.3, connectivity is a term commonly used in research on urban  rivers, but it has different, sometimes even conflicting, meanings in river ecology and urban waterfront  planning (May, 2006). Landscape ecologists define connectivity, set against fragmentation, as “the  strength of interactions across ecotones” (May, 2006, p. 478), where rivers are both corridors, i.e.  connections between patches, and ecotones between water and land. In river ecology, connectivity is  defined on three dimensions: lateral (interactions with the watershed, geomorphology, and material  and species movement between water and land), longitudinal (migration of species and flows of  materials up and down the stream), and vertical (e.g. exchanges between river and groundwater).  Design approaches, on the other hand, focus on accessibility of the water shores to humans, visual and conceptual connection with the city, and the attractiveness of the riverfront, which often lead to  interrupted ecological connectivity. In her attempt to respond to this conflict, May (2006, p.482)  acknowledges that “humans are integral components of ecosystems” and posits that finding a  common ground between ecological/hydrological connectivity and social connectivity requires  ‘cognitive connectivity’. Pedagogical restoration plans, riverfront museums, and 'eco-revelatory’  design are three types of cognitive connectivity put forward by May as “educational and aesthetic  interventions that allow urban dwellers to experience their place in the urban watershed in ways that  do not jeopardize its ecological systems” (May, 2006, p. 478). Urban and landscape design The spatial configuration and morphology of urban river corridors is an important topic in urban  and landscape design. In fact, riverside urban areas are among the places where these two design  professions interact the most. Baschak and Brown (1995) devised an ecological framework for the  planning, design, and management of urban greenways. The framework included an assessment of  urban river corridors in four steps: (1) making an inventory of landscape elements, (2) classifying the components of the corridor, (3) establishing a scalar framework (site, local, and regional), and (4) a quantitative ecological assessment of the landscape components. The framework was then applied to  the South Saskatchewan River Valley in Saskatoon, Canada, with the use of three criteria: connections to species-rich areas, corridor to urban context relationship, and network structure and content. The components of the corridor were inventoried and classified as patches (i.e. habitats) and corridors (i.e.  migration routes). Then two assessment processes were used: (i) landscape element rating to assess  the relative quality of landscape elements, and (ii) network assessment, a method used to measure  the links in the landscape. When discussing issues of implementation, the authors addressed both  the ecological goals of the corridor—the importance of retention of the remaining patches, followed  by any necessary restoration—and the spatial limitations of the urban environment—as large habitats  can hardly be accommodated in urban areas, the spatial configuration of the corridor offers more  potentials than the size of landscape patches. In a more recent study, Prominski et al. (2017) approach the topic of urban river restoration from the  point of view of spatial design and planning of urban rivers. With their design and project catalogue,  the authors build up a comprehensive knowledge body for riverside design strategies. Prominski et al.  emphasise the need for multifunctionality, interdisciplinarity, and process orientation. Multifunctionality  asks for a combination of ecological, hydrologic and human requirements. Interdisciplinarity is important  to establish a common language between the main disciplines involved in river space design: hydraulic  engineering, ecology, urban planning and landscape architecture. Finally, process orientation encourages  a way of thinking and design that is ‘evolutionary’ and concerned with a better understanding of river  dynamics, especially in the changing environmental conditions under climate change.  TOC 82 Integrated Urban River Corridors With their aims of “more space for water, more space for plants and animals, more space for people”,  Prominski et al. (2017, p. 15) adopt a social-ecologically integrative approach to urban design. Yet  their approach is very much concentrated on the direct interface between water and land, with a focus  on the flood limit and the limit of self-dynamic river channel development, and less on the structural  and strategic relationship of the river with the surrounding urban fabric at other scales. Strategies of integration The Two Network Strategy put forward by Sybrand Tjallingii is “a conceptual guiding model for  planning and design projects in the urban landscape,”25 (Tjallingii, 2015, p. 59) in which the  traffic network and the water network act as carrying structures, that is, frames for flexible urban  development in face of unknown future activities (Tjallingii, 2005, 2015). This model combines  a 'slow lane' with a 'fast lane'. The slow lane, where the carrier is the water network, is based on  cooperation, non-profit activities, safety and quality, landscape and heritage, biodiversity, recreation,  and local food production; whereas the fast lane, with the traffic network as its carrier, is competitive,  efficient, productive, and profit-oriented. These two lanes are complementary and set the frame for  a gradual, parallel and multifunctional spatial organisation of activities, linking ecology with social- economic processes. Typical applications of such an approach involve upgrading or downgrading parts  of the two networks or multifunctional zoning. The mutual interdependencies between the water  system and the urban system—with water and traffic networks as carrying structures—, the potential  for social-ecological integration, and the openness to flexible infill are well represented in this model. Tjallingii identifies three fields of integration between activities on the two carrying structures—the  so-called area, flow, and actor perspectives. In his account of water flows in the urban water cycle,  Sybrand Tjallingii (2012) points out two guiding principles relevant for water planning: ‘closing the  circle’ and ‘cascading’. For urban river waters,26 ‘cascading’, that is, the sequential storage of water for  as long as possible, is an important strategy as it helps to reduce storm water runoff and the chance  of pollution due to overflow in mixed sewage systems. Moreover, in order to decrease the bottleneck  effect of urban environments on river flow, floodplains should be free of buildings and, when this  is not possible, like in the case of densely built up historic centres, bypasses may be built to relieve  bottlenecks, such as in the Dutch ‘Room for the River’ program (Figure 7.14). Spatial-morphologic principles The following themes emerge from spatial and morphological dimensions of city-river relationships: – Three-dimensional connectivity, approached from a spatial point of view translates into (1) continuity  of the traffic network along the river, (2) transposability [or crossability] of the river by different  mobility flows and pedestrian access to the river front, and (3) vertical interaction by providing areas or  points of access to the river, such as beaches or waterside walkways. 25  Defined as “more concrete tools for making concrete plans” (Tjallingii, 2012, p.103), guiding models can instrumentalise guiding  principles. Such a guiding model is The Two Network Strategy of Tjallingii (2005, 2015). 26  Rain water is one of the five water flows defined by Tjallingii along with rainwater, groundwater, drinking water, and wastewater. TOC 83  Key properties of URCs—a synthesis – The Two Network Strategy (Tjallingii, 2005, 2015) is a guiding model to combine a 'fast lane' and a  'slow lane.' In this model, water is a structuring element or carrying structure for sustainable urban  development by the slow lane. – Corridor-centred mosaics are of particular interest as urban rivers are corridors, which tend to be organising forces in the areas that they cross. Key variables of such mosaics are corridor width,  connectivity, habitat quality, and straightness/convolution. (Forman, 2014, pp.120-121) Based on  these variables, the qualities of the corridor can be assessed. – Interwoven mosaics comprise “a group of landscape elements tied together by strong interactions”  (Forman, 2014, p.109). The presence of outer barriers, the area of influence of an internal organising  force, or the spatial reach of internal activities determine the extent of interwoven mosaics. Due to the tight  configuration of interwoven mosaics, flows are mainly perpendicular on the boundaries between patches. – Spatial configuration of land mosaics in urban areas is more important for ecological functions than  the size of ecological patches. – Interconnectedness of background matrix, patches as stepping stones and corridors, as defined in  land mosaics, enhances ecological functions. – Diversity, especially in terms of edge-complexity (i.e. convolution and curvature) both on macro (corridor) and micro (river edge) scale, is key to creating the conditions for human-nature coexistence. – Diversity can be found in structural gradients between areas of extensive and intensive anthropic pressure. Structural gradients, just like ecotones in ecology, must be preserved in order to maximise  diversity. – Accessibility of the URC (can be achieved) through continuous access along the waterfront and  improved accessibility to and across the river. – A good provision of public facilities and mix of uses can partially determine and enhance accessibility  to the waterfront. § 2.2.6 Key properties of URCs—a synthesis In a synthesis of the transdisciplinary principles outlined in the Sections 2.2.2-2.2.5, four key  properties of urban rivers can be identified: connectivity, open space amenity, integration and multiscalarity. Knowing these properties and the principles behind them is an important prerequisite  for the spatial understanding, design and planning of URCs. Connectivity The presence of connectivity in all four domain families as well as the integrative potential of three- dimensional connectivity expressed in literature make this a key property of URCs (Table 2.5).  Connectivity is used to describe processes, movement and interactions within and between the spaces  of the URC. The space of the river includes movement of water and species, whereas the urban space  includes the movement of the people. This compound space of movement in the river space, can  be described and assessed, on the one hand, in terms of space available for the water dynamics, the  spatial configuration of habitat patches as stepping stones along the corridor, and, on the other hand,   in terms of accessibility along-, across- and to the river, crossability, or visibility, for social connectivity.  Table 2.5 summarises ecological, hydrologic, social and spatial connectivity, as derived from literature,  on three dimensions: longitudinal, lateral, and vertical. In response to the need for an integrated multidimensional connectivity (of social and ecological systems),  the principle of Interconnectedness will be proposed as a key principle of URCs (see Chapter 7). TOC 84 Integrated Urban River Corridors TABLE 2.5  A synthesis of integrated three-dimensional connectivity. LONGITUDINAL LATERAL VERTICAL SOURCE Ecological Migration of species and flows  of materials up and down the  stream Interactions with the water- shed, geomorphology, and  material and species move- ment between water and land Exchanges between river and  groundwater May (2006) Hydrologic Headwater-estuarine flows Riparian-floodplain inter- action Riverine-groundwater relation Tetzlaff et al. (2007) Social Activities that run along the river, such as navigation or riv- erside traffic corridors, ranging  from fast to slow movement Visual and mobility connec- tions (accessibility) (1) across  the river and (2) transversally  to and from the surrounding  urban fabric. The direct interaction between people and water, such as swimming, walking along  embankments and dynamic  use of floodable areas Kondolf and Pinto (2017);  Gordon (1996) Spatial Continuous access along riverbanks for both people and  ecosystem agents Transposability of the river  and accessibility from the  surrounding urban fabric Channel section configuration  to allow access to and from  water Gordon (1996) Open space amenity Both the river and the city require open space, as shown in all four domain families. In the  environmental-ecological dimension, the spatial configuration of habitat patches and corridors, and  the space available for flooding and water storage are essential. From a social-economic perspective,  waterside public spaces supported by a diversity of adjacent public amenities are important for a well- functioning space in the waterfront. Although from a planning-governance perspective the necessity  of open space is not explicitly stated, the provision of open space as part of urban development  is part of the targets of local planning instruments. From a spatial-morphological point of view,  various spatial configurations are brought together from the field of landscape ecology, landscape  architecture, urban design and hydraulic engineering. Overall, the spaces available in the river corridor  determine its capacity to absorb, i.e. to accommodate and to provide desirable spatial conditions to  both natural and urban dynamics. The spatial components of river space and public space identified  under the property of open space amenity are summarised in Table 2.6. In response to the need for open space amenity, this thesis will propose the principle of Absorptive Capacity (see Chapter 7). TABLE 2.6  A synthesis of spatial components of URCs identified in literature under the theme of open space amenity. SPATIAL COMPONENTS OF THE URBAN RIVER CORRIDOR SOURCE River space (ecological and water space) •   Wetlands and floodable areas for water storage capacity •   Water space defined by cross section (flow capacity), length and   configuration (sinuosity) •   Ecotones as spaces of ecological transition and interaction between land  and water •   Green corridors and patches along the corridor to accommodate  ecological processes e.g. Prominski et al. (2017) Public space •   Promenades as public spaces designed for the river •   Embankments designed to allow access to water •   A diverse set of amenities at grade to support the public space of the river •   Parks and green spaces to provide shade and a pleasant setting for  recreational and leisure activities •   Places of belvedere to improve the visibility of and in the river space Stevens (2009); Gordon (1996) TOC 85  Key properties of URCs—a synthesis Integration Integration is “an ‘anchoring notion’ of sustainable urban development” ” (Pieterse, 2004, cited in  Batista e Silva et al., 2013). In each of the four dimensions presented above the need for integration  was expressed, either as a reaction to anthropic pressures in the case of river ecology or driven by  the need of improving the environmental qualities and resilience of the city. Multifunctionality,  inherent in solutions such as GI and GBI, and multi- or interdisciplinarity as proposed in most of  the studies presented above, are necessary for the integrated planning of URCs. To quote the Joint  European Support for Sustainable Investment in City Areas, “an integrated plan for sustainable  urban development comprises a system of interlinked actions which seeks to bring about a lasting  improvement in the economic, physical, social and environmental conditions of a city or an area within  the city” (Jessica BROCHURE, cited in Carbonaro, 2010, p. 7). Social-Ecological Integration is a principle of URCs proposed in this thesis that represents the spatial juxtaposition of the social system determined by the urban fabric, and the ecological system  structured by the river valley (see Chapter 7). Multiscalarity Another key property addressed in all the four domain families is multiscalarity. A key conclusion of  the environmental-ecological perspective is that the river needs to be understood in its entirety on  the catchment scale (Vietz et al., 2016). Only this way, channel-scale approaches will be properly  understood. From a social-economic perspective human scale has to be considered in conjunction  with the scale of waterfront development (Samant & Brears, 2017), and the scale of the river space  crossing the whole city. The planning-governance dimension also reveals a multi-scalar framework  ranging from the EU policy framework, through River Basin Districts, catchments, cities, corridors,  neighbourhoods, down to the level of the parcel (Perini & Sabbion, 2017). A set of scales defined  in urban landscape ecology and urban design represents the scalar framework of the spatial- morphological perspective. These scales cover a wide spectrum: megalopolis, urban region, metro  area, city, major land use type, neighbourhood, block, building, and site, which are juxtaposed with  the spatial scales of the river represented by the catchment, corridor, channel, and river section. All  the above are nominal, spatially defined scales. The context-focus-detail scalar framework used in  landscape ecology (Turner & Gardner, 2015) is a different approach, as it is relative to the problem  at hand: depending on the extent and level of detail of the area in focus, the context and detail are  defined accordingly. Table 2.7 summarises the scalar ranges described in literature. Interscalarity, i.e. interactions and interdependencies across scales, will be introduced as a principle that must be sought for social-ecologically integrated URCs (see Chapter 7). TOC 86 Integrated Urban River Corridors TABLE 2.7  A synthesis of multiscalar approaches to URCs identified in literature. THE FOUR DIMENSIONS OF THE LITERATURE REVIEW URBAN RIVER SCALE LEVELS SPECTRUM AND INTERRELATIONS SOURCE Environmental and ecological •   Catchment scale is comprehensive for the URC in its entirety. •   Channel-scale is properly approached if related to the Catchment scale. e.g. Vietz et al. (2016) Social and economic •   Human scale, waterfront scale and the scale of the river space at city level  need to be considered together. Kondolf & Pinto (2017) Gordon (1996) Planning and governance •   Multi scalar framework: EU level, River Basin District, catchment, city, corri- dor, neighbourhood, parcel. European Community (2000) Spatial and morphologic •   Urban scales (megalopolis, urban region, metro area, city, major land use  type, neighbourhood, block, building, site) juxtaposed with the river scales  (catchment, corridor, channel, and river section). (e.g. Forman, 2014; Prominski  et al., 2017) § 2.3 Spatial definition Urban River Corridors (URCs) are social-ecological systems (SESs), meaning that social and ecological  systems are equally considered in their spatial definition. Accordingly, URCs are defined here from  a spatial-morphological perspective as spatial structures that integrate river corridors with the  surrounding urban fabric. In conclusion of the multi-domain review elaborated in Section 2.2, the  relationship between the river and the urban fabric must be described in terms of a reciprocal spatial  configuration27 (Figure 2.2) stemming from four key properties of riverside urban areas: connectivity, open space amenity, integration and multiscalarity. FIGURE 2.2  Urban River Corridors are coupled systems. Their qualities must be understood as mutually beneficial for the river  valley and the urban fabric. For instance, accessibility of the waterfront can be expressed also in terms of permeability of the  surrounding urban fabric. 27  A reciprocal spatial configuration entails a view in which any property of the URC is defined as a mutual relationship between a  property of the river and a property of the urban fabric (e.g. accessibility of the river – permeability of the urban fabric). TOC 87  Spatial definition FIGURE 2.3  Illustration of the spatial-morphological definition of URCs. TOC 88 Integrated Urban River Corridors A spatial-morphological definition of URCs, as illustrated in Figure 2.3, entails integrated knowledge  of three-dimensional connectivity, open space amenity in the river space, and consideration of a scalar  spectrum specific to URCs. Three-dimensional connectivity describes connections on longitudinal,  lateral, and vertical dimensions. Open space amenity represents the provision of open spaces (public  or private, green or paved), in balance with built density, to ensure environmental and public space  quality. The spectrum of scales (Figure 2.4) specific to URCs comprises the catchment scale (bounding  the river system), the metropolitan scale (overall urban structure and landscape), the urban river corridor, corridor segment and river space scales defined below (Figure 2.5) and the site scale. FIGURE 2.4  The spectrum of scales specific to URCs. The river is not a line, but an area shaped by river dynamics. Hence, it must be defined from a spatial  point of view. Even when the natural dynamics of the river are suppressed (e.g. through canalization),  the valley is a fundamental spatial condition that needs to be embedded in the configuration and  development of the urban fabric. Accordingly, the delineation of the URC,28 that is, its outer boundary,  the corridor segments and the river space, is defined as follows (Figure 2.5): 1 The edges of the valley are determined, for instance, from a digital elevation model, using a method of  river corridor delineation (e.g. Vermont Agency of Natural Resources, 2004). 2 The main roads parallel, next to, and outside the river valley are identified as the outer boundaries  of the URC. The ends of the corridor are determined by municipal or metropolitan administrative  boundaries.29 3 The outer boundary is extended with a walkshed (i.e. the area accessible within a walking distance of  e.g. 500 m from a given location) calculated from both edges of the river. 4 After the outer boundary of the URC is delineated, corridor segments (CSs) are determined by dividing  the URC along major transversal traffic lines. This way, spatially continuous morphological units (i.e.  uninterrupted by traffic barriers) are identified along the URC.30 5 The river space, defined as “the direct contact area between the river and the first line of buildings,  including these buildings” (Batista e Silva et al., 2004, p. 17). 28  Each city developed a specific spatial relationship with its river. Therefore, this method of delineation is not purely quantitative, as  it requires a judgement of the morphological particularities of the site in question. This is especially the case for corridor segment  delineation, where variations in distance between major crossings may lead to unbalanced subdivision. Although uncommon, if two  consecutive major crossing are too close to each other (the case of narrow rivers), then adjacent segments can be merged. If they are  too far from each other (the case of wide rivers), then the URC can be further subdivided. 29  The ends of the URC are determined in such a way that connectivity with the surrounding (non-urbanised) landscape is ensured. 30  Observing the case studied in this thesis in Chapters 3 and 4, it can be assumed that urban areas between two major crossings tend  to have distinct morphological characteristics. TOC 89 Conclusion FIGURE 2.5  Proposed method for the spatial delineation of the URC, its segments and the river space. § 2.4 Conclusion This chapter presented a literature review of different domain-specific approaches to urban rivers.  A frame of reference of four domain families was used to structure the literature review and to  summarise key principles from different fields of knowledge. First, environmental-ecological approaches (Section 2.2.2), such as river restoration and green and blue infrastructure (GBI), were  described. Second, from a social-economic perspective (Section 2.2.3), key challenges and features  of waterfront regeneration were outlined. The planning-governance dimension (Section 2.2.4) gave  an overview of current planning and policy practices addressing urban rivers, from the scale of EU  regulations to catchment- and community-scale river management. Finally, the spatial-morphological perspective (Section 2.2.5) gave a detailed overview of landscape ecology principles, landscape and  urban design practices, and strategies of integration applicable to urban rivers. As a result of this transdisciplinary literature review, four key properties of URCs were identified  (Section 2.2.6): connectivity, open space amenity, integration, and multiscalarity. Connectivity was  described as an integrative concept in ecology, hydrology and urban space design (Kondolf & Pinto,  2017; May, 2006). Open space amenity was promoted as a key element in waterfront development  (Gordon, 1996; Stevens, 2009), in green infrastructure (GI) planning (Ahern, 2007; Benedict &  McMahon, 2006) and in green and blue infrastructure (GBI) solutions (Perini & Sabbion, 2017).  Integration was described in terms of possible models and principles of combining the networks and  spaces of URCs (Manning, 1997; Tjallingii, 2005, 2015). Finally, the property of multiscalarity was  based on a synthesis of scales that were used in descriptions of urban rivers in literature (Vietz et al.,  2016). TOC 90 Integrated Urban River Corridors Built on these four properties, the spatial-morphological definition of URCs gave a visual summary of the  transdisciplinary knowledge on urban rivers (Figure 2.3) and developed a method of spatial delineation  for the URC and its subdivisions, the corridor segment and the river space (Figure 2.5). This spatial- morphological definition of URCs will constitute a frame of reference throughout the whole thesis. It  will be used to structure the assessment framework developed in Chapter 5 and to formulate the design  principles in Chapter 7 and the design instruments in Chapter 8. The next two chapters will confront this  spatial-morphological definition with an empirical case—Bucharest and its two URCs—from a historical  perspective (Chapter 3) and from a multi-domain perspective (Chapter 4). TOC 91  Social-Ecological Dynamics in Bucharest’s River Corridors—A Diachronic Perspective 3 Social-Ecological Dynamics in Bucharest’s  River Corridors—A Diachronic Perspective § 3.1 Introduction The properties identified in Chapter 2 are illustrated in this chapter with the case that will be studied  throughout the thesis: Bucharest and its two river corridors, Dâmbovița and Colentina. As defined in  Chapter 2, Urban River Corridors (URCs) are the result of a process of constant interaction between  natural and urban dynamics. Hence, the following pages will reveal the geographical and historical  traces of the changing relationship between urban development and river dynamics in Bucharest.  The search for conflicts and synergies underlying this exploration is intended to construct an  understanding of the urban environment as a system in dynamic equilibrium, in which the natural and  the artificial co-exist and establish a reciprocal relationship. After a brief introduction of the geographic context of Bucharest in Section 3.2, Section 3.3 provides a  historical account centred on the development of the city in relation with the two rivers, as portrayed  in written and cartographic sources. Given (1) the chaotic development of Bucharest after 1989, (2)  the scarcity of literature on post-communist urban transformations, and (3) the fact that the rivers  haven't been actively transformed during the years of transition, the current state of the URCs of  Bucharest will be approached separately and with a different methodology in Chapter 4. This chapter  concludes (Section 3.4) with a reflection on conflicts and synergies found in the dynamic relationship  between Bucharest and its two rivers across time, as a basis for understanding the current state of  social-ecological integration in Bucharest’s URCs. SUB-QUESTION AND OBJECTIVES: Sub-question 3: How has the relationship between Bucharest and its rivers evolved through time? Objective 3.1: Describe the geographic context of Bucharest’s URCs. Section 3.2 Objective 3.2: Describe the spatial-temporal dynamics of Bucharest’s URCs. Section 3.3 § 3.2 Geographic context: hydrography and fluvial geomorphology Not surprisingly, the geographic context has had a defining role in the development of Bucharest into  a centre of national and regional importance. Here as in other cities, the presence of water and the  physical configuration of geographic space have been defining conditions for settlement and growth.  A hydrographic and geomorphologic description can, therefore, shed light on the substratum—that is,  TOC 92 Integrated Urban River Corridors the natural base formed by long-term processes, as presented in the Dutch Layers Approach (De Hoog,  Sijmons & Verschuuren, 1998, cited in van Schaick & Klaasen, 2011)—of a river-crossed city. The  substratum can be considered relatively stable on the short term, as it tends to have a very slow rate  of change (100-500 years). Therefore, it is presented here separately from the 150-year urban history  of Bucharest explored in Section 3.3, which focuses on the faster dynamics of what in the Layers  Approach would be called the occupation (25-50 years) and networks (50-100 years) layers (Figure  3.1). FIGURE 3.1  The Dutch Layers Approach. Illustration based on van Schaick and Klaasen’s review of the Dutch model (2011). Source:   De Hoog, Sijmons & Verschuuren, 1998, cited in van Schaick & Klaasen, 2011. Thus, for a proper description of Bucharest’s rivers, it is important first to understand their wider  hydrographic context at the catchment scale. As shown in Figure 3.2a, the Romanian capital is  located within the lower section of the catchment area of River Argeș, one of the main tributaries of  River Danube on the territory of Romania.31 River Argeș crosses the Romanian Plain on a northwest- southeast direction from its headwaters in the Carpathian Mountains to its confluence with the  Danube. Its largest tributary River Dâmbovița has a similar trajectory,32 flowing from the mountains  (1800 m) to its confluence with River Argeș (27 m) (Cocoș, 2006; Zaharia, Ioana-Toroimac, Cocoş,  Ghiţă, & Mailat, 2016). In its lower course, River Dâmbovița crosses the city of Bucharest diametrically  on a distance of 24 km, with elevations between 90-60 m (Figure 3.2b). One of the main tributaries of  Dâmbovița is River Colentina crossing the north of Bucharest. 31  Romania is located within the lower segment of the Danube River Basin (DRB) with 97,4% of its total surface and it has the highest  share (29%) of the river basin out of the 19 countries crossed by Europe’s second largest river (ICPDR, 2006). 32  This hydrographic type is called a Wallacho-Carpathian (Dinu, 1994) or Carpatho-Wallachian river system (Cocoș, 2006). TOC 93  Geographic context: hydrography and fluvial geomorphology FIGURE 3.2  The hydrographic context of Bucharest: (a) at the scale of Argeș Catchment Basin; and (b) at the scale of Bucharest crossed by River  Dâmbovița and River Colentina, as depicted in an illustration of the relief inside the rail ring by Cincinat Sfințescu (1931). Data sources: (a)  OpenStreetMap and SRTM DEM underlay; (b) traced after Sfințescu,1931. TOC 94 Integrated Urban River Corridors River Dâmbovița, like River Argeș, is an allochthonous river, meaning that it originates in a different  geographic region—in this case, in the mountains—, while River Colentina, similar to River Sabar in  the same region, is an autochthonous river, that is, its source and mouth are in the same geographic  region—in this case, in the plain (Zaharia et al., 2016). River flow originates both from surface water  (rain or snow) and from groundwater. In case of allochthonous river Dâmbovița, most flow is gained  from rainfall (32.4%) and snow (26.6%) from upstream in the Carpathian and sub-Carpathian  regions, with an additional 41% from groundwater (Cocoș, 2006). Autochthonous rivers in the  Bucharest region, such as Colentina and Sabar, have a more reduced flow, but, as it will be explained  in the following sections, those rivers receive a large amount of water from artificial sources, especially  through derivations from neighbouring streams. From a geomorphologic point of view, the two rivers are also different. As described by Cincinat  Sfințescu (1931), Dâmbovița has a divagating channel, while Colentina has a more stable channel.  This difference is still visible in the features of the landscape developed along the two streams. Before  regularisation and canalisation, Dâmbovița had a wide and dynamic valley with several tributaries,  side-channels, wetlands, islands, and hills, while Colentina has a narrower valley. Both rivers have a  reduced slope (1,2 m/km for Dâmbovița and 1,1 m/km for Colentina, according to Cocoș, 2006) and  thus a reduced velocity, which in natural conditions leads to floods. Given its location in a plain geographic region, the main topographic features of Bucharest are the  valleys of the two rivers (Comănescu, Nedelea, & Stănoiu, 2017). Dâmbovița’s valley is between  300m and 2km wide (Sfințescu, 1931, p. 15) and it is asymmetrical, with a high right bank and a  lower, less steep left bank. Colentina’s valley, also asymmetrical, has been extensively transformed  by the construction of the lakes. In the Bucharest region, Colentina has a more sinuous course than  Dâmbovița (Cocoș, 2006) and it has meadows on both banks with widths ranging from 100 m to 1,5  km. Table 3.1 summarises the general morphometric features of the two rivers. TABLE 3.1  Morphometric features of Dâmbovița and Colentina RIVER Lt (km) LB (km) As (m) Am (m) S (m/km) SB* (m/km) A (km 2) SI* SIB* Dâmbovița 286 24.2 1,800 27 6 1.2 2,824 1.27 1.56 Colentina 101 29.4 179 52 1 1.1 643 1.50 1.56 Lt, total length; LB, length in the Bucharest city area; As, headwaters elevation; Am, river mouth elevation; S, slope gradient; SB, slope gradient in Bucharest city area; A, catchment area; SI, sinuosity index; SIB, sinuosity index in Bucharest city are. (Sources: Zaharia et al., 2016; *Cocoș, 2006). As we will see in the next section, this geographic context represented important spatial conditions for  the development of Bucharest. While the city was growing, the river system was transformed very fast,  mainly out of a need to alleviate conflicts with natural river dynamics, such as floods or disease, but  also to maximise the supply of water for various uses. At the same time, the morphology of the city too  has adapted to the topography of- and around the two river valleys. This interplay between mitigating  and adapting to the substratum needs a closer historical look. TOC 95  A synoptic history of Bucharest’s river corridors § 3.3 A synoptic history of Bucharest’s river corridors A history always has a certain degree or form of subjectivity, either through the chosen narrative  or the emphasis on a topic of particular interest. The linear nature of a historical narrative implies  the assumption of a thread meant to make sense, in a step-wise manner, of an otherwise complex  course of events. The thread presented here links together a succession of events, projects, visions,  or technical descriptions considered to be necessary for the understanding of the URCs of Bucharest  before any description (Chapter 4) and assessment of their current state (Part 2) or suggestion for  their future transformation (Part 3) can be made. This endeavour is complicated when the subject has been partially charted by historians, when a  consensus has not been reached, or when the studied subject or phenomenon is examined at the  wrong spatial and/or temporal scale.33 Such a difficult topic is the urban morphological history of  Bucharest, in general, and its URCs, in particular. To the author’s understanding, there are at least  three reasons why this history is incomplete and, hence, needs to be further explored. First, for  decades already the topic of urban rivers in Bucharest has not received sufficient attention in research.  Second, there is a lack of trans-disciplinary research on a topic which is inherently cutting across  disciplines. Third, Bucharest lacks a full-fledged body of knowledge on urban morphology,34 especially  taking into consideration the urban areas which were most recently transformed, such as the civic  centre built in the last years of Communism, abandoned or regenerating former industrial areas in the  centre, or the morphology of interstitial and leftover spaces so widely distributed in the heterogeneous  urban fabric of Bucharest. The history presented here is not original in its parts. It is, however, in its spatial-temporal scope and  in its emphasis on the subject matter: the spatial-morphological description of the social-ecological  relationship between Bucharest and its rivers. It builds on and brings together important sources, such  as Vintilă Mihăilescu’s influential work on the urban geography of Bucharest from mid-nineteenth  century until 1977 (Mihăilescu, 2003), Georgescu et al.’s (1966) detailed historical account of the  transformation of the two rivers, Nicolae Lascu’s (2011) study on the modernisation of Bucharest  through boulevards until WWII, early urbanist Cincinat Sfințescu’s vision for the rivers of Bucharest  (1931; Udrea, Popescu, Calotă, & Păun Constantinescu, 2015), the work of engineer Nicolae  Caranfil and his colleagues (1936) on the transformation of River Colentina in the 1930s, and Dana  Harhoiu’s (1997) depiction and interpretation of Bucharest’s pre-modern, modern and recent urban  morphological transformations. In addition, more recent studies (e.g. Avădanei, 2012; Stematiu and  Teodorescu, 2012; Zaharia et al., 2016) were consulted to outline the recent history of the two URCs. The historical account starts with the middle of the 19th century, considered the beginning of  Bucharest’s urban history (Mihăilescu, 2003) around the time when it was established as the  capital of the Romanian Principalities, and also the time when the first actions were taken for the  transformation of Dâmbovița (Section 3.3.1). The narrative is built chronologically, thus the main  stages of development of River Dâmbovița and River Colentina will be presented as they occurred in  33  Although established works, such as Georgescu, Cebuc, & Daiche’s (1966) extensive account of the river transformations undertak- en in the 19th and 20th centuries, and Mihăilescu’s (2003) monographic study of Bucharest’s geographic transformations have been  influential, the social-ecological dynamics remain implicit. 34  There is, however, literature on specific aspects of urban transformation in Bucharest, such as Nicolae Lascu’s (2011) study of the  boulevards of Bucharest or Harhoiu’s (1997) investigation of the morphogenesis of city centre and the disruptive transformations  of the Civic Centre built under Communism. TOC 96 Integrated Urban River Corridors relation to the development of the city (Sections 3.3.1-3.3.3). Finally, a summary of human impacts  on the river system in the presented history concludes the narrative (Section 3.3.4). FIGURE 3.3  Fragment from the Szathmári’s Map of Southern Romania (1864) showing the regional context of Bucharest in the middle of the 19th century. Source: Szathmári, 1864, map sheet No. 77, in Bartos-Elekes, Z. (2015). The Habsburg mapping of Moldavia and Walachia. Retrieved from  https://icaci.org/files/documents/ICC_proceedings/ICC2015/papers/18/fullpaper/T18-696_1428396969.pdf § 3.3.1 Dâmbovița—from a dynamic valley to a canal The city of Bucharest, first documented in 1459, originated along a meandering river called  Dâmbovița35 in the Wallachian Plain, also known as the Romanian Plain. This geographic location  was especially suitable for an urban centre as it was located halfway on a straight trading route  (Mihăilescu, 2003) and military outpost (Harhoiu, 1997) between the Carpathian Mountains and  River Danube, and because the soil and subsoil conditions of this part of the Wallachian Plain were  35  The exact location of the city core was between the bottlenecks created by two hills—Mihai Vodă and Radu Vodă—in the river valley  (Sfințescu, 1931). TOC 97  Dâmbovița—from a dynamic valley to a canal exceptionally good36 (Sfințescu, 1931). Initially the city was located—just like most settlements in the  same region—on the left bank of the river (Figure 3.3), because aquifers as well as gravel and sand  for extraction37 were more accessible through the thin layer of loess which covered the Vlăsiei Plain, a  sub-unit of the Wallachian Plain lying north of Dâmbovița (Figure 3.4). The right bank was urbanised  later, but its picturesque hills and steep cornice provided a good location for many important buildings  such as monasteries, churches and military facilities from early times.38 In fact, before rectification  and canalisation works carried out at the end of the 19th century, Dâmbovița was a dynamic sinuous  river which changed its course several times forming a landscape of islands (“ostroave”), secondary  channels, floodplain lakes (“zătoane”), wetlands, tributaries and a valley topography marked by hills  (“grădiști”) and steep cornices. FIGURE 3.4  The Romanian Plain and its subdivisions. Source: Comănescu, Nedelea & Stănoiu, 2017. River Dâmbovița itself has always been seen as a problem which the city needed to overcome  (Georgescu et al., 1966; Lascu, 2011). The increasing frequency of floods in the 18th and 19th centuries39 was caused mainly by the strangling of the river course with a growing number of man- made structures such as watermills and bridges. Before the extensive canalization of the river in the  1880s, several attempts had been made to tame the river and to adjust it to its urban functions.  The first measures of flood prevention date back to 1774 when the Wallachian voivode Alexander  Ypsilantis ordered the construction of a bypass channel upstream from Bucharest in order to divert  36  The thin loess top layer was easily penetrable by the roots of the trees, so that forests could easily develop and the clay layers kept  aquifers closer to the surface (Sfințescu, 1931). 37  Almost all extraction pits of the city are located north of Dâmbovița, especially in Crângași and Ciurel (Sfințescu, 1931). 38  Notable examples are Mitropolia located on a hill with the same name housing the national seat of the Orthodox Church, Mihai  Vodă Monastery and the Arsenal of the Army located on another hill in the centre of the city. 39  According to Georgescu et al. (1966) major floods were recorded in 1774, 1834, 1851, 1860, 1862, 1864, and most of all in 1865. TOC 98 Integrated Urban River Corridors excess water to River Argeș in case of high flow. Later in 1803 waste disposal into the river was  prohibited, the riverbed was cleaned and deepened in 1815, it was periodically dredged, river walls  were anchored to stop erosion, local adjustments were made to the river course, and successive  attempts were made to demolishing the mills (Georgescu et al., 1966). Watermills for cereals were built from very early times by the monasteries located on the hills  next to the river. As the city developed, the number of mills increased so much that the river weirs  required for their operation became the main cause of flooding in the city. Bridges with several  in-channel supports represented an important obstacle to river flow as well. Recognising these  threats, the Organic Regulation40 adopted in 1831 prompted the demolition of all mills within the  city, the widening of the riverbed and the setback of buildings located near the river. Furthermore,  the great flood of 1865 motivated the government under Alexandru Ioan Cuza to issue the Law for the demolishment of mills, to remove all bridges with supports in the riverbed, and to consider the  rectification of the course of Dâmbovița (Georgescu et al., 1966). The abolishment of mills was  made especially difficult by the users of the river, namely the tanners and the owners of the mills  and river baths. Yet, after repeated attempts41 to implement these measures in the following years,  the Law for the canalisation of Dâmbovița was approved in 1878 and the Project for the rectification and canalisation of Dâmbovița of engineer Grigore Cerchez (Figure 3.5) was voted by the Communal  Council of Bucharest in 1879. FIGURE 3.5  The project for the regularisation and canalisation of River Dâmbovița (1879) by Grigore Cerchez. Source: Georgescu et  al., 1966. 40 The Organic Regulation (called Regulamentul Organic in Romanian) was a quasi-constitutional act adopted in 1831 in Wallachia  and in 1832 in Moldavia. In urban planning, the act was concerned with the “beautification and straightening” of the city. 41  Such attempts were carried out downstream from the city in 1868 (Georgescu et al., 1966). TOC 99  Dâmbovița—from a dynamic valley to a canal The project of Cerchez included the deepening of the riverbed with 6 meters, two steps—one at  Grozăvești and one at Vitan—and a flow capacity between 8-22 m3/s aimed at levelling the slope,  the removal of sharp bends and secondary channels, a regulated trapezoidal drainage profile, the  transformation of the banks with masonry work, a 20-meter unbuilt space on both sides of the  river, four new bridges, and a riverbed deck made of wood on wooden beams and piles. The works  of regularisation were carried out between 1880-1886 by French contractor Alexandre Boisquerin  (Georgescu et al., 1966). As a result of the rectification and canalisation, 192 properties on the  right bank and 182 on the left bank are demolished, and the tributaries of Dâmbovița were cut off  (Georgescu et al., 1966). The extent of the transformations is depicted in Figure 3.6. FIGURE 3.6  Dâmbovița before (A, 18th/17th c.) and after (B; C, 1927) regularisation and canalisation. Source: Comănescu, Nedelea & Stănoiu, 2017. Even after canalisation, floods—with the largest one in 189342—occur due to heavy rainfall and the  bottlenecks created by bridges, so the works were extended to the Grozăvești-Ciurel section in 189843 to prevent further such events (Georgescu et al., 1966). Except the extensive dredging operations  carried out between 1930-1932 (Georgescu et al., 1966), and further rectification upstream from  Ciurel Dam in 1942 (Stematiu & Teodorescu, 2012), the river remains relatively unchanged until the  last phase of transformation in the 1980s. The urban landscape: from private backyards to a public waterfront Despite the modernisation efforts triggered by the Organic Regulation in 1831 and its recognition as a  regional centre, Bucharest was still perceived as a large village at the middle of the nineteenth century  (Mihăilescu, 2003). A possible explanation for its rural image, usually depicted by travellers visiting  the city, is the fact that the urban fabric had a loose structure inherited from the 16th century, when  civil fortifications were forbidden by the Ottoman rulers (Harhoiu, 1997). 42  The flow of River Dâmbovița increased to 125 m3/s during the flood of 1893. 43  The weir in the Grozăvești area was demolished, and another one was built at Ciurel. TOC 100 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 3.7  The transformation of the urban fabric in the centre of Bucharest form the natural state (left) of Dâmbovița, through canalization (centre)  and to its current state (right). Two major transformations can be observed: (1) the urban fabric became more fragmented and the river valley more  constrained; and (2) the number of crossings decreased from 11 to 7 to 4, the latter being exclusively used by car traffic. Basemaps: Borroczyn map  (1852, left), cadastral map (1911, middle), Google satellite map (2015, right). Yet the policy of “Westernisation” put forward by the administration during the first two decades of  the twentieth century is very visible. The city had a double face during that period: modernised along  the main arteries and old across the rest of the urban fabric (Mihăilescu, 2003). The regularisation  of Dâmbovița played an important role in changing the image of the Romanian capital. The river was  upgraded from a stream in the backyard into a city-wide infrastructure, just like a boulevard (Lascu,  2011). This modernisation symbolised a change in mentality, in which the new waterfront (the ‘Splai’  in Romanian) became a public space. The new waterfront, with its wide and long perspectives became an attractive place for public  institutions. In 1895, the Palace of Justice, built in French Renaissance style, opens on the right  TOC 101  Colentina—from a pestilential river to a pearl of lakes bank of Dâmbovița (Georgescu et al., 1966). The new corridor crossing the city became attractive for  various infrastructure projects, such as Sfințescu’s unbuilt proposal for a rail line from 1921 (Udrea  et al.2015). In order to solve the problem of traffic in the centre, in 1934-36 the river was covered  at what is today known as the Union Square. As a result of the extensive transformation of the urban  areas along the river, very few parts of the former urban riverfront remained in place. The extent of the  spatial transformations in this area is shown in Figure 3.7. § 3.3.2 Colentina—from a pestilential river to a pearl of lakes FIGURE 3.8  The administrative area of Bucharest in 1911 and, highlighted with blue, canalised River Dâmbovița crossing the city centre, and the valley  of River Colentina visible in the northeast. Source: Serviciul Geografic al Armatei on Wikimedia Commons. TOC 102 Integrated Urban River Corridors As the city expanded to the north at the turn of the twentieth century, it gradually encapsulated  River Colentina and the neighbouring villages in its periphery44 (Figure 3.8). The valley of Colentina,  however, was not yet fit for urban living. The population growth and the lack of a sewage network  made it a very problematic location. The stagnating water of the barely flowing river had an unpleasant  smell and favoured the breeding of malaria-spreading mosquitos. The quality of water was further  deteriorated by industrial and domestic wastewater discharge and by the use of the swamps as  waste pits (Georgescu et al., 1966). Moreover, the population—mainly comprising informal Roma  communities—was living in precarious conditions around and inside the pits (Băncescu & Calciu,  2014; Caranfil et al., 1936). Although concerns for sanitation had been expressed before WWI,45 the issue was only addressed  by the city in the late 1920s. In response to the aforementioned problems, but also in the view of  new opportunities that the transformation of River Colentina could bring, the program put forward  by Bucharest Communal Works (B.C.W.)46 was meant to increase the water flow, to transform the  marshland into a salubrious and picturesque landscape, to increase the size of the National Park (part  of today’s Park Herăstrău), to create a large water surface which would bring environmental benefits  to the city, and to open a navigable link between the rivers Argeș, Dâmbovița, Colentina and Danube  (Caranfil et al., 1936). Studies led by Cincinat Sfințescu started in 1926 by the House of Public Works of Bucharest and  resulted in three possible solutions for transformation.47 The chosen solution included a bypass  channel from River Ialomița located upstream and designated to supplement the flow required for a  series of lakes envisioned along River Colentina. The technical proposal by engineer Nicolae Caranfil,  head of B.C.W., was accepted by the mayor Dem I. Dobrescu and ratified by the General Council in  1932. In a speech at the Polytechnic Society on 25 February 1936, Caranfil gives the example of  Dâmbovița, a canal without hope, to contrast with the great natural potential of the project for the  lakes. According to him, the city of Bucharest dried out a landscape which once was “an oasis of green,  water and humidity”. “We drained and assassinated Dâmbovița, there’s nothing else we can do with  it,” he said (Caranfil et al., 1936, p. 13). Having partially executed the plan for the sanitation and  reclamation of River Colentina, Caranfil has proven the success of the project and announced the next  phases of implementation. The green belt Equally important, but less sustained in the subsequent years, was the idea of a green belt as a way  to contain urban growth. The concept was introduced at the beginning of the twentieth century and  then elaborated by Cincinat Sfințescu's study for the general urban plan of Bucharest48 (Figure 3.9).  44  According to Mihăilescu (2003), archaeological findings show that in the Palaeolithic hunters and fishermen preferred to take shel- ter in the valley of Colentina, rather than in the valley of Dâmbovița which was more exposed to floods. It can be argued that with the  emergence of agriculture in the Neolithic, the fertile lands of Dâmbovița’s marshy valley became in time more attractive for settlers. 45  The need for transformation of River Colentina was signaled in 1912 by a landslide on lake Herăstrău (Caranfil et al., 1936). 46  Uzinele Comunale București (U.C.B.) in Romanian. 47  According to the first solution, all lakes would have been dried and the river would have been transformed into a streamlet. As Bu- charest needed more water, this solution was not accepted. Instead, a second solution was chosen, one in which water was diverted  upstream from River Ialomița to supplement the flow in Colentina. The third solution was a combination between the first two. 48  One of the novelties of the plan was the adoption of the Garden City theory by Cincinat Sfințescu (Udrea, 2015). TOC 103  Colentina—from a pestilential river to a pearl of lakes According to this concept, Colentina represented a natural barrier to growth in the north of the capital, which could be included in a possible green belt for Bucharest. As shown in Figure 3.9, the proposed belt intersects the green corridors of the two rivers. Dâmbovița too was part of the proposed belt, but,  as it crossed the centre of the city, it was rather a green structure connecting the city externally than  a continuous green corridor. Although the corridor of Colentina and the partial green structure of Dâmbovița are still discernible on the current plan of Bucharest, the spaces of the rest of the belt were  built over as the city expanded.49 FIGURE 3.9  The proposal for Bucharest’s green belt. Source: Sfințescu, 1931. 49  It may be argued that the idea of the green belt, artificial in its design, was not successful as it was less compatible with the urban  structure than the natural green corridors of the two rivers. TOC 104 Integrated Urban River Corridors Sewage and water supply As the city crossed the ridge line between Dâmbovița and Colentina, the general project for water  supply (1906) and for sewage (1913) concentrated along Dâmbovița was outdated, so the sewage  network needed to be extended to urban areas along Colentina as well (Caranfil et al., 1936). At  the same time, the growing population of Bucharest needed drinking and wastewater treatment. A  treatment plant was already built at the end of the 19th century at Arcuda, upstream on Dâmbovița  near Bucharest, but as the flow was limited to max. 8m3/s at the beginning of the 20th century due to  flood risk, waste water treatment plants were needed. Also, for the sewage network of the areas in the  N, NW (draining to Colentina), E, and SE waste water treatment plants were required. A solution for  the low flow of Colentina would be a diversion canal bringing water from Ialomița. § 3.3.3 The two rivers under Communism—continuity and disruption The years of Communism (1947-1989) deserve to be presented separately, as both rivers went  through a second phase of transformation during this period. The change of regime from Monarchy  to the Socialist Republic marks an important point in the urban history of Bucharest. After WWII,  the city witnessed an unprecedented growth from nearly 900.000 inhabitants in 1948 to over 1.8  million in 197750 (Mihăilescu, 2003). In response to this trend, new plans of systematisation started  in the 1950s were meant to implement a radical social and spatial transformations sought by the  communist regime. The plans included large works along major transport arteries, completely new  neighbourhoods with increased densities, but also the transformation of the two streams to ensure  water supply, flood protection and recreation. The new approach was characterised by continuity, in  the case of Colentina, and disruption, in the case of Dâmbovița. Interrupted by WWII, the project of the lakes on River Colentina was resumed during Communism  with the completion of Lake Chitila (1980), Lake Străulești (1971), Lake Grivița (1972), Lake  Plumbuita (1978), Lake Fundeni (1979), Lake Dobroești, Lake Pantelimon I (1972), Lake Pantelimon  II (1970), Lake Cernica (1960), and a second derivation channel from River Ilfov. With the exception  of the navigable link, all the technical ambitions of the initial project were realised during this period.  This may be considered one of the most successful infrastructure projects carried out by the regime,  because it recognised the social and spatial benefit of a project started in the previous regime and  completed it. Photographs from that period depict the lakes as the main recreational destinations of  the city: vast green areas and lakes with beaches were full of Bucharestians seeking to 'recharge their  batteries' in the weekend after a week of hard work (Figure 3.10). 50  This number is comparable to the current population of Bucharest: 1.859 mil. in 2014 (UNdata) TOC 105  The two rivers under Communism—continuity and disruption FIGURE 3.10  Beaches on the lakes of Colentina during the years of Communism. Source: Tudora & Stan, 2015. The canalization of River Dâmbovița between 1985-1988 was among the major infrastructural  projects put forward by the communist regime (Stematiu & Teodorescu, 2012). This last phase  changed Dâmbovița’s course within Bucharest into a technical device made of two superimposed  water courses (Figure 3.11): a surface concrete canal with clear water released from Lake Morii and  a culvert for draining wastewater collected from the sewage system to the treatment plant at Glina   (Stematiu & Teodorescu, 2012). The main purpose of this intervention was the improvement of the  flood protection system of Bucharest. Consequently, Dâmbovița lost its vegetated banks and became  completely artificial (Figure 3.11). FIGURE 3.11  The new cross section of Dâmbovița. Source: Stematiu & Teodorescu, 2012. TOC 106 Integrated Urban River Corridors The disruption was further amplified by what many consider to be the most destructive urban  intervention in Bucharest. A country-wide program of new "civic centres" was initiated during  Communism (Harhoiu, 1997), the largest of which, as could be expected, was built in Bucharest  during the last years of Communism with the additional function of holding the nation’s seat of power  in the House of People (Figure 3.12). It is widely agreed that the construction of Bucharest’s Civic  Centre had an unprecedented disruptive effect on the urban fabric (Cavalcanti, 1997; Harhoiu, 1997;  Ioan, 2007). Positioned across Dâmbovița, the new urban axis disregarded the topography of the  valley—except for the Palace, the crown piece of the plan, being located on Arsenal Hill—and became  a barrier as well as a space out of scale (Figure 3.13). If the project of the lakes can be characterised as  historically continuous, the project of the Civic Centre had the total opposite effect on Dâmbovița: it  created a radical spatial and temporal discontinuity. FIGURE 3.12  The plan of Bucharest’s centre showing the extent of demolitions for the new Civic Centre. Source: Harhoiu, 1997. TOC 107  The two rivers under Communism—continuity and disruption FIGURE 3.13  Photo of the monumental axis of the new Civic Centre.  Source: fotografieaeriana.eu. Another project continued during Communism deserves special attention: the project for a navigable  link to the Danube. Even though navigation on Dâmbovița and Colentina could not be realised inside  the city, the project for navigation was not abandoned. In the period 1980-1990, the complex  transformation of Argeș and Dâmbovița downstream from Bucharest, including two ports—one on  each river—were planned (Figure 3.14). Although a large part of the plan was executed, works were  abandoned in 1990 (Avădanei, 2012). FIGURE 3.14  The transformation of the lower course of rivers Argeș and Dâmbovița. Source: Avădanei, 2012. According to Georgescu et al. (1966), the canalisation of Dâmbovița at the end of the 19th century  and the transformation of River Colentina into a pearl of lakes are arguably among the greatest public  works ever done in Bucharest with such a generative role in urban development. Lascu (2011), in  a similar way, considers Dâmbovița’s first phase of rectification and canalisation, along with the  boulevards of Bucharest built in the same period, among the most important urban transformations  undertaken in the Romanian capital. During Communism, the greatness of these projects was  acknowledged and amplified, although very differently: Colentina was completed and it became a  continuous green-blue corridor, whereas Dâmbovița was further changed into a functional concrete  conduit draining water through the city. TOC 108 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 3.3.4 Human-induced changes in the river system As a consequence of the transformations presented above, the hydrological regime of the river system  in the Bucharest area has been influenced to such an extent that it cannot be considered natural  anymore (Cocoș, 2006). Human pressures on the river system are mainly represented by engineering  works—dams, reservoirs, channelization and flow regulation works, inter-basin transfers, and water  intakes—, water abstraction, and wastewater discharge meant to fulfil a number of aquatic ecosystem  services, such as water supply, flood defence, sewage collection and recreation (Zaharia et al., 2016).  As a result of this variety of human interventions, Argeș River Basin has a complex water management  scheme (Figure 3.15). FIGURE 3.15  The management scheme of Argeș River Basin. Source: Zaharia et al., 2016. Seen at a larger scale, the flood protection system of Bucharest has three lines of defence (Figure  3.16). The first line of defence consists of accumulation lake Văcărești and a polder upstream on  Dâmbovița, followed, in the second line, by a hydrotechnical node at Brezoaiele 30 km downstream  from the Văcărești accumulation, and the derivation canal Dâmbovița-Argeș. The third line of defence  TOC 109  Human-induced changes in the river system is located on River Dâmbovița and on River Colentina. On Dâmbovița, it is represented by the natural  polder Dragomirești, polder Giulești, and the dike enclosing Lake Morii. On Colentina, the water level is  regulated upstream from Lake Buftea and by the lakes of Colentina themselves. FIGURE 3.16  Synoptic scheme of the flood protection system of Bucharest. Source: Stematiu & Teodorescu, 2012. Under the complex transformations of the river system in the Bucharest region, according to Cocoș  (2006), Dâmbovița and Colentina exhibit different mean monthly and seasonal flow distributions.  River Dâmbovița has an increased flow during periods with low discharge and a decreased flow during  times of high discharge, while river Colentina, receives water from neighbouring systems and thus its  mean monthly flow is high during periods of high flow, and low during dryer periods (Figure 3.17). In  terms of maximum flow, the highest values were recorded in 1979 for Dâmbovița (546 m3/s) and in  1978 for Colentina (57,9 m3/s). Based on values of monthly maximum flows recorder between 1970- 1997, it is estimated that Dâmbovița could reach a maximum flow of 1260 m3/s every 1000 years,  750 m3/s every 100 years, and 290 m3/s every 10 years. During periods of minimum flow, water is  gained from the ground. Recorded values—for the altered hydrological regime—are between 1,23  m3/s in January and 4,94 m3/s in May for Dâmbovița, and between 0,0006 m3/s in September and  0,036 m3/s in June for Colentina (Cocoș, 2006). Minimum flow is influenced by the transformations  and use of the streams in two ways: regularisation enabled by the existence of accumulation lakes  has an increasing effect; water abstraction for irrigation as well as domestic and industrial use have a  decreasing effect. FIGURE 3.17  Variation of mean monthly flow on Dâmbovița in natural (black) and regulated (white) regime. Source: Cocoș, 2006. TOC 110 Integrated Urban River Corridors In a review of water quality of the rivers in the Bucharest region based on ecological state as defined  by the Water Framework Directive (WFD),51 Zaharia et al. (2016) position the global water quality of  Dâmbovița in class III-V (moderate to bad quality) and Colentina’s in class IV (poor quality). The main  source of water pollution in the region is Bucharest. The largest amount of storm water and waste  water are released through the culverted drain of Dâmbovița downstream of Bucharest at the current  wastewater treatment plant Glina, which at the moment can only partially purify the city’s output.  On Colentina, measurements show the presence of heavy metals and some pathogenic germs, i.e.  contamination with human and animal faeces, mainly from upstream peripheral locations or small  settlements disconnected from the sewage network (Stănescu, 2011). § 3.4 Discussion Looking back at history, the social-ecological relationship between the city and its two rivers,  Dâmbovița and Colentina, went through a series of radical transformations. As shown in this chapter,  both rivers were seen, in their natural state, as obstacles to urban development and, in their eventual  engineered form, as major functional infrastructures aiding the modernisation of the city. Against the backdrop of the accelerated population growth and urban expansion started in the middle  of the 19th century, taming the rivers was indeed an urgency: floods had to be stopped, disease had to  be driven out, waste water had to be drained through the city in efficient conduits as fast as possible  and with as little friction as possible. Today, however, there is no apparent urgency, as it was for the  early Bucharestians facing those threats. Seemingly, the 130-year transformation of the hydraulic  system in the lower part of River Argeș catchment has been managing water very efficiently. Bucharest  is seemingly in control of its rivers. But is it really? Or should it be? Moreover, is it ‘in control’ that it  should be? These questions are not meant to disregard the feats of engineering accomplished by some of the  most talented Romanian engineers of the 19th and 20th century, but to draw attention to the fact that  any engineering work that, regardless of its brilliance, poses resistance to natural processes, eventually  becomes obsolete. As shown in Chapter 2, river corridors in their natural state are dynamic systems in  which land and water constantly interact. This interaction, visible in river morphodynamics, has both  ecological and social implications. Fluvial geomorphologic processes—chiefly sedimentation and  erosion—create beneficial conditions for biodiversity, but also have the power to shape landscapes  which are safe and meaningful for people. For instance, the hills on the right bank of Dâmbovița,  depicted over history as the most “picturesque” part of the city’s landscape, are the result of such  dynamics. In a similar way, the riparian landscape is negotiated between natural and social dynamics.  The green corridor of River Colentina was transformed from a dangerous, pestilential periphery to the  main recreational green space of the city. 51  The Water Framework Directive (WFD) defines five water quality classes, taking into consideration biological, physicochemical,  hydromorphologic and microbiological factors (Zaharia et al., 2016): class I—very good quality; class II—good quality; class III— moderate quality; class IV—poor quality; class V—bad quality. TOC 111 Discussion Today, global environmental issues are different than the ones from just a century ago, when river  taming operations were at their highest all over the world. Given the exacerbated effects of climate  change, increased interconnectedness on multiple scales, and the growing number of urbanites  bearing the environmental weight of their coexistence, addressing the issue of water must go beyond  mere reactions to disruptions, shocks, disasters. A proactive approach is more than predicting urban or  natural dynamics, such as population growth and floods underlying engineering approaches. It implies  the acceptance of uncertainty and building resilience to absorb those dynamics, a characteristic  inherent in the social-ecological definition of URCs as presented in Chapter 2. Overall, the planning of  the lower catchment of River Argeș before 1989 had been mainly focused on taming and exploiting  the river system. With the exception of the 1930s project for the lakes of Colentina, the history hardly  shows any clear pathways towards a more sustainable social-ecological relationship between the two  rivers and Bucharest. The concept of the river corridor is only implicit in the history presented here. The river and its valley  were seen form a water management or urban planning perspective, with little regard for their  ecological dimension. The paradigm of the city as a complex adaptive system, in which the social  system of the urbs and the ecological system are understood together and in a dynamic equilibrium,  stands in contrast to the way the two streams of Bucharest and the systems they are part of were  designed. As explored in this chapter and further clarified in Chapter 4, the example of Bucharest is an  excellent illustration of the latent, invisible, and chronic nature of the problematique around over- engineered urban rivers. Understanding the synergies and conflicts between the river as a rational  infrastructure meant to service the city—like Dâmbovița and Colentina—and the river as an ecological  system will be the analytical and design assignment for the rest of this thesis. TOC 112 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 113  The State of Knowledge on the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest 4 The State of Knowledge on the Urban  River Corridors of Bucharest § 4.1 Introduction The focus of this chapter is on the current state52 of Bucharest's river corridors, in addition to the  history described in Chapter 3 and in the context of the uncharted period of post-communist  transition. Chapter 4 starts by looking at the particularities of post-communist transition in Central  and Eastern European (CEE) cities as described in literature (Section 4.2) in order to contextualise and  describe the most recent transformations and the current state of URCs Dâmbovița and Colentina.  Given the scarcity of literature on the subject matter, the approach in this chapter is not historical, but  based on the interviews of 22 experts dealing with the current issues of the two urban river corridors.  After the description of the methods of data collection and analysis in Section 4.3, this chapter reports  on problems and potentials of the two rivers in relation to the spatial development of Bucharest  identified by the experts (Section 4.4). The chapter concludes with a discussion of similarities and  differences between two rivers and with an assignment for the assessment and design presented in  Part 2 and Part 3 of the thesis. SUB-QUESTION AND OBJECTIVES: Sub-question 4: What is the current state of knowledge on Bucharest’s URCs? Objective 4.1: Summarise the spatial effects of post-socialist transformations on URCs in Central and Eastern  Europe. Section 4.2 Objective 4.2: Identify the current problems and potentials of Bucharest’s URCs related to urban develop- ment. Section 4.4 § 4.2 The urban river corridors of Bucharest under post-communist transition In addition to facing the global challenges of large cities, Bucharest is a representative case for Central and Eastern European (CEE) post-socialist cities which have undergone extensive institutional, social,  and economic transformations for nearly three decades since the Revolution of 1989. Subsequent to  the historical narrative presented in Chapter 3, this last episode of Bucharest’s urban history is still  52  The current state is considered between the time of data collection (2016) and the time of writing the thesis (2018). TOC 114 Integrated Urban River Corridors being revealed in an ongoing process known as ‘post-communist transition’.53 In a wider geographic context, post-communist transition exhibits urban dynamics specific to cities in former Communist  countries of CEE. In brief, post-communist transition in CEE countries is considered a period of  “paradigm shifts and revolutionary changes”, “described by the swing of the pendulum from the far  left to the far right”, in which “the laissez-faire model of social development was quickly embraced  as an antidote to the totalitarian past” (Stanilov, 2007, pp. 5–7). It is characterised by extensive  privatisation of public property,54 commercialisation, deindustrialisation, and by a dramatic shift in  lifestyle brought by capitalism, democratisation and ‘Europeanisation’ (Munteanu & Servillo, 2014). Under these dynamics, managing spatial development has proven to be a complex and challenging  task for local administrations, which were reformed during the early years of transition. At that time,  spatial planning had a diminished importance due to more urgent political and economic matters  (Sýkora & Bouzarovski, 2012)55 and because of the anti-planning attitude of the population fuelled  by a general belief that planning is an instrument of Communism (Munteanu & Servillo, 2014). One  of the consequences of the dismissal of spatial planning was that there is little knowledge on the  relationship between post-socialist transition and urban form56 (Stanilov, 2007). The post-socialist  city has specific spatial characteristics which are different from its capitalist counterpart. These  characteristics are partly inherited from the socialist period—less urbanisation, less diversity, and a  distinct spatial structure (Szelenyi, 1996, cited in Hirt, 2013)—, partly developed during transition— spatial fragmentation due to the loss of state ownership of urban land, the dominance of market  forces, and the lack of central planning (Hirt, 2013). Overall, the spatial transformations of CEE cities  seem to have a direction opposite of sustainable development (Stanilov, 2007) and, after almost three  decades of transition, the need for a long-term vision is acknowledged not just by citizens, but also by  businesses and local administrations. In Romania, post-communist transition is manifested in socio-spatial changes such as  deindustrialisation, urban shrinkage and deepening social disparities, along with a process of  massive and chaotic suburbanisation (Dumitrache, Zamfir, Nae, Simion, & Stoica, 2016), visible in  ‘ad-hoc’ urban landscape changes and infrastructure ‘catch-up’ (Nae & Turnock, 2011). According  to Dumitrache et al. (2016), this form of suburbanisation, considered the broadest phenomenon of  post-socialist urban change in Romania, was influenced by “legislative ambiguity and institutional  instability” (Dumitrache et al., 2016, p. 48), on one hand, and by increased foreign direct investment  followed by a strengthened banking-financial system allowing for mortgage loans and a growing real  estate market, on the other. The spatial impact of this complex phenomenon of urban transformation is the most visible in the  capital of Romania, which concentrates today 9% of the country’s population and about one quarter  of the national GDP. From a city which had very low to no peripheral growth during Communism,  Bucharest has sprawled rapidly outside its administrative boundaries after 1989 (Dumitrache et  53  Although some authors refer to ‘post-socialism’ when talking about the phenomenon across CEE, the term ‘post-communism’ is  more accurate in the case of Romania. 54  Privatisation was carried out either by means of restitution of properties nationalised during Communism or by the transfer of state  property to the private sector, as in the case of most former industrial areas which were transformed into mixed-use developments. 55  According to Sýkora and Bouzarovski (2012), the complex process of post-communist transition can be divided in three consecutive  phases representing institutional, social, and urban transformations. In this sequence, according to them, transition can reach the  phase of urban transformation only after institutional reforms and social transformations have been achieved. 56  This fact is also confirmed by Augustin Ioan (2006) in the case of Romania. TOC 115  The urban river corridors of Bucharest under post-communist transition al., 2016). Kucsicsa and Grigorescu (2018) demonstrate that sprawl, especially after 2002, was  influenced mainly by transportation networks and the proximity of built-up areas, and less by the  presence of natural features, an observation which seems to be consistent with the real-estate  boom of the early 2000s and with the Western, car-based and materialist lifestyle valued by the  Bucharestians at that time. In an overview of the recent spatial changes in Bucharest, Angelica Stan (2015) concludes that the  years of transition, considered to be relatively homogeneous in a wider historical context (Pascariu,  2012), can be subdivided into three distinct periods of morphological transformation. In the first  period (1990-2000), characterised by a mix of “reformist enthusiasm” and “communist inertia”  (Munteanu & Servillo, 2014), spatial development in Bucharest is dominated by a large program of  privatisation of industries and agricultural land. The environmental impact of the new direction of  urbanisation is acknowledged and the first studies—including the Zonal Urban Plans (ZUPs) for the  two river corridors—are made in preparation of the new GUP to be released in 1999. Having reached a relatively stable economic and political state after the first decade of transition and  facing the prospect of EU accession in 2007, the country had experienced an economic boom during  the second period (2001-2007). Unfortunately, the lack of firm urban regulations led to a process  of piecemeal urban transformations, an “urban ‘hysteria’ evident in the construction of shopping  malls, business centres and luxury apartments” (Nae & Turnock, 2011, p. 217), in strong contrast  with an acute social housing shortage. This phenomenon is the most visible in the expansion of the  city to the north over the Colentina lakes. Even though the new General Urban Plan (GUP) (Figure 4.1)  was approved in 1999 and legally backed by Law 350/2001 (Parlamentul României, 2001), it could  be easily overruled by ZUPs, derogative instruments allowing for extensive alterations of the GUP by  market forces. FIGURE 4.1  Detail from the General Urban Plan (GUP) in the centre of Bucharest. Dâmbovița does not have a separate territorial reference unit (TRU).  Source: Municipality of Bucharest. Retreived from: http://www.pmb.ro/servicii/urbanism/pug/pug.php (Accessed: 28 January, 2018). TOC 116 Integrated Urban River Corridors It is as late as the third period (2008-2014), strongly marked by the efforts to overcome the 2008  economic crisis, when the regulatory framework and spatial planning started to show signs of  improvement. A change in Law 350 for Spatial Planning and Urbanism (Parlamentul României,  2001) led to considerable reduction of ZUP derogations and work on a new GUP started in 2011.57 Furthermore, encouraged by the new EU development framework and by EU funding, planning has  steered more in the direction of integrated and strategic approaches.58 The main strategic document  prepared during this period (2011-2012) is the ‘Bucharest Strategic Concept 2035’ (BSC2035, known  as CSB2035 in Romanian).59 Another important field of improvement, compared to the previous years  of transition, was in environmental planning, including the adoption of the several EU directives, such  as the Water Framework Directive (European Community, 2000), the Habitat Directive (EC, 1992) and  the Birds Directive (EU, 2009). All in all, the years of transition present a shift in spatial and temporal scales: from the gigantic urban  projects of Ceaușescu to the piecemeal urban development of ‘derogative-’ or ‘private urbanism’;  from collective living to individual housing; from large to very few infrastructure projects being  implemented very slowly. As a reaction to the phenomenon of ‘private urbanism’, the need for a new  GUP in which “a derogative PUZ will have to be argued as being in the best interest of the city” (Nae &  Turnock, 2011, p. 217) has become evident. Thus far, environmental and ecological issues, in general, and the topic of urban rivers, in particular,  are far from having received the desired attention within the discourse of post-communist  transformations outlined above. The urban environment is described mainly in terms of urban  systems. For instance, in the three main categories—urban management, urban patterns and urban  impacts—used by Stanilov (2007, p.9) to summarise the positive and negative characteristics of  post-socialist urban transformations in CEE cities, the environmental-ecological dimension is weakly  represented by two negative characteristics under urban impacts: loss of open space and increased  congestion, air, and noise pollution. Indeed, as mentioned in the previous chapter, the last years have shown a growing concern, especially  in the environmental sciences, hydrology and geomorphology, about the rivers of Bucharest. However,  most studies are still rather descriptive than forward-looking. Also, even though some comprehensive  urban studies had been made on the two river corridors by 1999-2000 (Figure 4.2), the derogatory  urbanism of the subsequent years, characterised by real-estate speculation and lack of public interest,  pushed those plans to the bottom of the planning agenda until they became outdated. As a result,  today the two river corridors seem to be in an uncertain state of development, degrading, and with an  unclear future. So how did the recent social-economic dynamics, as well as planning and governance  practices influence the spatial development of the two rivers of Bucharest? And, in turn, what role (if  any) did they play in the post-communist urban transformation of Bucharest? Understanding this  reciprocal impact is key to future transformations of the two rivers. Masked by many uncertainties, and  poorly recorded in literature, the actual state of knowledge on planning the two river corridors can only  be understood by asking the experts dealing with the two river corridors. 57  After several extensions, the new GUP of Bucharest is still under development. 58  Similar transformations have taken place in other EU-member CEE countries. See, for instance, the account of institutional changes  in Poland by Dąbrowski (2008). 59  Although the GUP of 1999 contained some strategic elements, BSC 2035 is the only city-wide strategic document created since  1989. TOC 117  Methods FIGURE 4.2  Two comprehensive studies carried out as ZUPs complementary to the GUP: (top) ‘Dâmbovița structuring axis’ (‘Dâmbovița axă  structurantă’ in Romanian; Filipeanu et al., 2000) and (bottom) ‘ZUP for the lake area on River Colentina’ (‘PUZ zona lacurilor râului Colentina’ in  Romanian; Fulicea, 1999). § 4.3 Methods The methods adopted in this chapter are part of the multi-method and mixed methods approach  presented in the overall research design of the thesis (see Section 1.6). In the multi-method  framework, the analyses of the current state of Bucharest’s URCs are based on two different data  sources: (1) on primary data in the form of the questionnaires and the expert interviews presented  in this chapter; and (2) on (secondary) geographic data presented in Chapter 6. The method of data  collection and analysis is mixed as it combines both quantitative and qualitative elements. Figure 4.3  illustrates the data collection and analysis process, which is explained further in this section. FIGURE 4.3  Diagram of the data collection and analysis process. TOC 118 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 4.3.1 Data collection Given the lack of comprehensive studies on contemporary planning with the two rivers in Bucharest,  the choice for primary data collection was necessary for an accurate and grounded overview of  the subject matter. As the first step of the data collection process, a set of 22 semi-structured expert interviews were conducted in April-May 2016 in Bucharest. To maximise the accuracy and  elaborateness of the responses, the interviews were conducted in Romanian. The interview guide  (Appendix A) was divided in two parts: a questionnaire comprising multiple open-ended questions  (e.g. “What are the three most important problems of Bucharest in terms of urban development?”)  as well as closed-ended questions with 5-point attitudinal scales;60 and a semi-structured part  allowing for more flexibility in the responses. The questionnaire in the first part, administered during  the interview, recorded the experts’ opinions on the general problems and potentials of Bucharest,  Dâmbovița, and Colentina, whereas the second addressed the four major angles from which the data  was later analysed: spatial-morphological, social-economic, environmental-ecological, and planning- governance. The interviews were concurrently translated and transcribed, and coded in preparation to  the qualitative data analysis (see Appendix C for an example of a transcribed and coded interview). Sampling For the qualitative data collection procedure, a combined expert and snowball sampling design (Bryman, 2016; Kumar, 2014) was used in order to gain a deep access to the network of professionals  connected to the topic. First, expert sampling was used to determine the respondents for the semi- structured expert interviews. The expert status was ascribed by the researcher according to one or  more of the following criteria: professional or research experience in the topic, variety of domains  across the sample, and representativeness of both the private and public sector (Table 4.1). Second,  as part of the interview schedule, snowball sampling was used, that is, the interviewees were asked  to recommend other experts or people whom they consider to be knowledgeable and able to provide  further insight on the topic (see Appendix B for a list of all interviewees and their expertise). From an  initial set of invitations and with the additional recommendations received with snowball sampling, a  total of 22 experts were interviewed. TABLE 4.1  Disciplines and domains represented in the sample of experts. DISCIPLINE Count DOMAIN Count Urban planning 7 Academy 17 Architecture 6 Administration 2 Urban design 4 Planning and/or design practice 10 Landscape architecture 3 Civil society 2 Architectural history 1 Architectural journalism 1 Environmental sciences 1 Hydrology 1 Anthropology 1 Urban sociology 1 60  The values of the Likert scale were: strongly disagree = 1; disagree = 2; neutral = 3; agree = 4; strongly agree = 5. TOC 119  Data analysis Quality criteria The data collection instrument follows the principles of credibility, transferability, dependability and confirmability (Lincoln & Guba, 1985 and Trochim & Donnely, 2007 as cited in Bryman, 2016).61 Credibility was achieved on three levels: (1) by confirming the correctness of the findings with the  respondents; (2) by asking another researcher to code one of the interview transcripts to confirm the  initial coding; and, as part of the overall methodology of the thesis, (3) by means of the multi-method  approach (i.e. triangulation) in which the results of the qualitative data analysis are confronted with  the results of the analyses performed in Chapter 6. Although transferability and dependability of the  research instrument adopted in this chapter is difficult to achieve due to its qualitative nature (Kumar,  2014), this limitation was tackled with a thorough description and a detailed record of the techniques  and procedures. Finally, confirmability, meant to ensure that the biases of the researcher were  minimised during the process, was achieved by recording the process in a reflexive journal. § 4.3.2 Data analysis The data obtained from the interviews in the form of filled-in questionnaires and transcripts was  subjected to summary statistics and qualitative content analysis respectively (Table 4.2). TABLE 4.2  Methods of analysis associated with the questionnaire and interview guide. PART NO. DESCRIPTION QUESTION TYPE METHOD OF ANALYSIS Questionnaire Part I Q1-Q2 Problems and potentials of Bucharest Open categorical question Content analysis Q3 The two rivers in relation to Bucharest Closed interval scale question Summary statistics Part II Q4-Q5 Problems and potentials of Dâmbovița  and Colentina Open categorical question Content analysis Q6 Functions of Dâmbovița and Colentina Open categorical question Summary statistics Part III Q7-Q10 Thematic questions about Dâmbovița  and Colentina Closed interval scale question Summary statistics Interview guide Part IV Q11 Question in the SPA-MOR category Open question Content analysis Q12 Question in the SOC-ECN category Open question Content analysis Q13 Question in the ENV-ECO category Open question Content analysis Part V Q14-Q16 Questions in the PLA-GOV category Open question Content analysis Part VI Q17-Q19 Personal experience and references Open question - The closed interval scale questions of the questionnaire (Q3, Q7-Q10) were quantified and  summarised in diverging stacked 100% bar charts with a vertical baseline separating negative and  neutral (1-3) from positive responses (4-5). The responses to the open categorical questions of the  questionnaire addressing current functions of the rivers (Q6), as well as problems and potentials of  61  According to Bryman, these four principles are typical to qualitative social research and parallel internal validity, external validity,  reliability and objectivity, respectively, in quantitative research. TOC 120 Integrated Urban River Corridors Bucharest (Q1-Q2) and of the two rivers (Q4-Q5) were not summarised separately, but instead were  coded and embedded in the content analysis, together with the open questions of the interview guide  (Part IV and Part V). The responses to the questions of Part VI were not included in the analysis, as  they were meant to record the personal experience of the interviewees with the two rivers (Q17) and  to obtain further recommendations of other experts (Q18) and literature on the topic (Q19) from the  interviewees. The qualitative data analysis (QDA) of the interview transcripts was carried out in the computer- assisted qualitative data analysis software (CAQDAS) Atlas.ti (Friese, 2011, 2014) using a combined  deductive-inductive approach (Bryman, 2016), meaning that some code categories were predefined  while some have emerged from the data. The categories of the coding system represent (1) the themes  built in the interview guide—functions (FCT), potentials (POT), problems (PRB), and projects (PRJ)— and (2) the themes that have appeared to be important during the data analysis—meaningful places  (PLC) and proposals (PRP). As shown in Table 4.3, problems (PRB) and potentials (POT), for all three  subjects (Bucharest, Dâmbovița and Colentina), represented the main categories in the coding process  under which the four domain families (ENV-ECO, SPA-MOR, SOC-ECN and PLA-GOV) were also  included as predefined sub-categories. These subcategories are used to group codes and to answer  research questions in a deductive approach, such as “What are the environmental and ecological  problems of River Colentina?”. The categories PLC, PRP, and PRJ were not subdivided further and were  summarised visually on a geographic support. TABLE 4.3  The hierarchy of groups and code naming convention used in the content analysis. SUBJECT GROUP SUB-GROUP CODE B_ D_ C_ Bucharest Dâmbovița Colentina FCT_ function - See code list PLC_ place - POT_ potential ENV-ECO_ environmental / ecological PLA-GOV_ planning- / governance-related SOC-ECN_ social-economic SPA-MOR_ spatial-morphological PRB_ problem ENV-ECO_ environmental / ecological PLA-GOV_ planning- / governance-related SOC-ECN_ social-economic SPA-MOR_ spatial-morphological PRJ_ project - PRP_ proposal - Within the framework of these categories, the Straussian coding approach (Strauss & Corbin, 1990  as cited in Bryman, 2016)—a three-step process consisting of open, axial and selective coding— was adopted.62 A problem-potential analysis (PPA) approach targeting the codes in the PRB and  POT categories, was proposed as a framework for further categorisation. The PPA is meant to give a  detailed account of the problematique by looking at both positive and negative views on different or  sometimes the same aspects of the two river corridors. In this case, the codes are further grouped  62  In qualitative data analysis, codes represent concepts assigned to segments of data. In the case of the expert interviews the seg- ments of data are quotations selected in the interview transcripts. TOC 121 Results under predominant themes, regardless of their membership in the four predefined domain families,  and represent the core concepts derived from the QDA. This way the problem-potentials of the three  subjects are seen in a wider, transdisciplinary way. Even though elements of grounded theory were used in the QDA, the study may not qualify as such as  it does not claim to formulate a theory. Instead, it is meant to establish a grounded knowledge base— that is, a set of core concepts around which the current state of the two river corridors are described—,  required for the formulation of an assignment for further analysis and design. § 4.4 Results The following sections report on the results from the analysis of the questionnaires and provide a  synthesis of the problems and potentials of River Dâmbovița and River Colentina, as they emerged  from the content analysis of the expert interviews. In line with the PPA, pairwise correspondences  between problems and potentials were found and used to present the results of the content analysis  organised under separate sections dedicated to the three subjects of analysis—Bucharest (covered  briefly in Section 4.4.1), Dâmbovița (Section 4.4.2) and Colentina (Section 4.4.3). To illustrate the  conclusions of the analysis and to bring the reader closer to the voice of the interviewees, the most  representative quotations are included under the corresponding themes emerging from the data. This  summary only includes code categories; a detailed list of codes used under these categories can be  found in Appendix D. § 4.4.1 Bucharest “the problem number zero is the total inexistence of urban policies.” (Interviewee 19) “In Romania, we went out of the frying pan into the fire. If before we had 97% and so state property, now it’s the other way around.”  (Interviewee 6) “the capital, which is the representative, political, administrative city […] is in conflict with, or it dominates the discourse of develop- ment at the expense of the human scale city” (Interviewee 16) “it’s strange to play the card of a radial-concentric city when it has two large water secants. […] Why radial-concentric?! It seems like  a cacophony” (Interviewee 6) “the ecological side is perceived here from a ‘hipster’ perspective [i.e. superficially], in the sense that we protect for the sake of protection and it isn’t a value that brings income. This is a major mistake. In a global world, in which this is clearly a trend, Romania,  instead of looking over the fence and regarding its traditional culture as a handicap, has now the opportunity to settle this trend in a  legitimate way and to say: ‘I have a contribution to make.’” (Interviewee 16) Although less space was allocated to the subject of Bucharest in the interview schedule (1 part out  of 6, see Appendix A), Bucharest received the same amount of attention as the two rivers, with 366  (35%) out of the total number of quotations processed in the content analysis. This is due to the fact  that, in addition to general problems of Bucharest related to urban development, most issues specific  to the two rivers could be traced back to the larger narrative of post-communist transition including  the whole city. More than with the two rivers, the experts had the tendency to highlight problems  (73% of the quotations) rather than potentials. The most noted problems were the lack of strategic  planning, dysfunctional administration, poor interaction with surrounding territories, weak legislation  TOC 122 Integrated Urban River Corridors for urban development, lack of a competent planning authority, and the extensive privatisation of  the city. When prompted for potentials, the interviewees mentioned human capital, spatial diversity,  favourable geostrategic position in the Balkan region, economic attractiveness, and the two rivers as  potential green corridors penetrating the city. One interviewee even mentioned the conflict between  the high-level structuring potential of the rivers and the radial-concentric model adopted by the city. § 4.4.2 Dâmbovița a b c FIGURE 4.4  (a) The current functions of Dâmbovița (D_FCT) according to the experts. (b) Agreement on general statements about  River Dâmbovița. (c) Map of meaningful places on River Dâmbovița mentioned by the experts (green = positive remark; red =  negative remark; yellow = mention). TOC 123  Dâmbovița According to the experts, River Dâmbovița functions as an important technical infrastructure for  sewage, flood protection, traffic and rainwater drainage (Figure 4.4a). Also, as it crosses the centre,  it is considered to be important, but mostly for its potential as a central location, as it does not  deliver environmental and ecological functions anymore (Figure 4.4b). As shown in Figure 4.4c, the  meaningful places mentioned by the experts are clustered around the central part of Dâmbovița (see  example in Figure 4.6). Overview of problems and potentials With 69% of the quotations focusing on problems (Figure 4.5, left), Dâmbovița was presented as  highly problematic during the interviews. In the analysis correspondences were sought between the  core concepts related to problems—‘canalisation’, ‘physical barrier’, ‘a non-place’, ‘decay’, ‘out of  scale’, ‘lack of integrated planning’, and ‘crampedness’—and the ones describing potentials—‘axis of  urban development’, ‘latent spatial capacity’, ‘a space of identity’, ‘the invisible valley’, and ‘economic  attractor’. In order to equalise the number of categories for the purposes of the problem-potential  analysis, the categories ‘decay’ and ‘out of scale’ were included under the category ‘lack of integrated  planning’ and the category ‘economic attractor’ was embedded in ‘axis of urban development’. FIGURE 4.5  Summary of the content analysis of problems (red) and potentials (orange) of River Dâmbovița. TOC 124 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 4.6  Iconic perspective along the central segment of River Dâmbovița. Photo credit: Alexandru Mexi. Canalisation / the invisible valley “There’s a major problem that contains all the rest: it is a canal. […] It is not a river. All the rest derives from this.” (Interviewee 19) “[Dâmbovița was designed as a] secant cutting the city, without understanding what is the river basin, the river plain, what is the relief and all these elements which often intersect paradoxically with the urban fabric. […] the valley is not that strong, but it exists,  it can be felt.” (Interviewee 7) “Water […] is [sealed off] in a concrete pipe. And this is a problem, because there are many rivers that cannot flow into Dâmbovița,  but around it, like Bucureștioara. […] From a hydrological point of view, Dâmbovița is a disaster. Dâmbovița does not offer anything.”  (Interviewee 9) “[W]e can try to re-naturalize it, which is a possible practice—Seoul is an example—, but which, in case of Dâmbovița, can hardly be  done, because the main canal is underground.” (Interviewee 15) “Every time when I come from the Timpuri Noi metro station, I come on the sidewalk next to Dâmbovița. It is cool, especially in  Spring. In Spring, you see ducks with ducklings! It’s alive. I am sure that they come from Văcărești.” (Interviewee 17) “[In history,] foreign travelers used to climb some hill and see a sea of greenery with the golden cupolas of the churches and maybe  the upper level of a nobleman’s palace. How is this now?” (Interviewee 2) “there is a valley of Dâmbovița and, you want it or not, the roads go naturally towards it. I realized that there is a valley when I moved  in the South […] and I was coming to […] the North by bike. I was going straight, and then a I speed up with the bike in the valley,  then straight again and suddenly I had to climb a hill […] on the bike the feeling is very strong. Every time you want to go from some- where in the South to somewhere in the North, you feel this difference.” (Interviewee 17) FIGURE 4.7  Canalised (left) and cramped (right) River Dâmbovița. Source: mariciu.ro (left); b365.ro (right). TOC 125  Dâmbovița Canalisation is notably the most important problem mentioned by the experts during the interviews.  According to them, the canalisation of Dâmbovița, especially in the last phase when its banks were  concreted during Communism, destroyed the natural qualities of the river and transformed it into an  artificial structure (Figure 4.7). Once the canal was built and floods had been tamed, geomorphology  could be ignored. Still, as signalled by some of the experts, there is a flood risk due to the poor  condition of the technical infrastructure, especially at dam Ciurel where the water flow from Lake  Morii to Dâmbovița is controlled. A breach in the dam would expose the city to a flood that could  reach 3 meters in some central areas. The lack of ecosystem services was pointed out as an important  environmental consequence of canalisation. Linked to the problem of canalisation is the potential of the invisible valley. Within this category, the  interviewees mentioned geomorphology, especially with reference to the pronounced topography  of the right valley edge, as well as the ecological and micro-climatic potentials of the open spaces  along the river. Two types of spaces with ecological potential were identified in the response of  the experts: the spaces which were reclaimed by nature due to abandonment or isolation; and the  relatively continuous chain of parks and green spaces on the right valley edge which could constitute  an ecological corridor. From an environmental perspective, one of the experts pointed out that, if  designed and operated properly, Dâmbovița could be an important element for mitigating urban  overheating. This could be one of the main ecosystem services that the river could provide to  surrounding urban areas. Physical barrier / a gathering space “Dâmbovița is clearly a barrier and it requires improvements in connectivity. […] from a barrier, an element that cuts, it can become  an element that generates development around it.” (Interviewee 16) “There were more bridges in the past. True, they looked differently and the whole area was completely different, […] but the fact that  there’s an insufficient number of bridges also contributes to the poor visibility, accessibility and presence [of the river].” (Interview- ee 2) “First of all, […] the ‘artificialization’ of Dâmbovița and the limited number of bridges and secondly […] the construction of the  Boulevard Victory of Socialism (currently Boulevard of Union) cut the city in two. […] Through re-naturalisation, with the recreation  of a relationship, the construction of spaces connected to water, it would be possible to coagulate [the] two areas of the city.”  (Interviewee 7) “Dâmbovița […] unites and separates two areas that even in the collective mental are considered to be very different from each  other. This is a very serious problem for many years from now on and maybe definitive for Bucharest.” (Interviewee 13) “Dâmbovița isn’t a water stream anymore that itself represent a potential for the city, but Dâmbovița as an axis, water together with its surroundings, as an urban axis that represents a direction, an ordering axis, along which there are services, elements of interest  for the city, which as a whole would play a role in the life of the city.” (Interviewee 4) “Dâmbovița could be a pedestrian path that is different, because it has elements of interests, it has a scale that makes the  communication between banks possible, meaning that it is not an isolating element, but an element that gathers. So its principal advantage is that it crosses the heart of the city.” (Interviewee 11) The river is perceived as a physical barrier for various reasons. Above all, interviewees mentioned the  fact that River Dâmbovița is a space of cars, as it is bordered on both sides by car traffic. The street  called Splai (Romanian for “embankment”), crossing the whole city diametrically from ring road to  ring road, is designed in such a way that riverside pedestrian spaces and sidewalks are dysfunctional,  inaccessible, under-dimensioned, and of a poor material quality (Figure 4.7). The experts also  mentioned reduced crossability, i.e. the fact that there is an insufficient number of crossings. In  addition, inaccessibility was mentioned as a major problem of Dâmbovița, as it is disconnected from  the pedestrian network of the city. The barrier caused by the car-based design of the river profile  resulted in a disconnected riverside urban fabric and poor physical contact with water. TOC 126 Integrated Urban River Corridors Yet, according to the majority of the experts, river Dâmbovița has the potential to become an axis  of urban development, which could bring coherence to a fragmented urban space. This potential  is mainly enabled by the river’s central position in the city by its historical importance as a primary  generating structure. Such an axis could become a connecting structure, both as a North-South  balancing structure on the city scale and among local communities positioned along its trajectory. Crampedness / high spatial capacity “Dâmbovița was a victim, since its canalization until today, of urban interventions that used the river as a chance of relieving certain  problems, but which never saw the river itself as an important potential. As a result, Dâmbovița is squeezed by an underground collecting canal, by the metro line, by the traffic lanes, etc.” (Interviewee 12) “It feels cramped, and this is a big problem, but I think that, at the same time, in many places where it feels cramped it could be un- cramped, because there’s unused building stock or abandoned land. So, this could be a potential.” (Interviewee 17) Another problematic morphological aspect of the river is caused by its central position in the city. As  it crosses the centre, Dâmbovița is surrounded by densely built-up areas. The crampedness caused  by this condition was mentioned by several interviewees as one of the main limitations to spatial  development along the river. The crampedness of central riverside urban areas, together with the  inaccessibility of the banks and the fact that it is small, results in poor visibility of the river too. Regarding its spatial configuration, the reduced dimensions of the river profile make it suitable  for human-scale/pedestrian activities in potentially the largest public space of the city, while the  diametrical span of its trajectory is considered to be highly suitable for a slow mobility route. Riverside  open spaces, such as the public space in front of the National Library (Figure 4.8) or the Văcărești  Natural Park, and abandoned structures, such as the platforms of the former docks or the dikes of Lake  Văcărești, are considered to be important resources for the future spatial development of Dâmbovița. FIGURE 4.8  River Dâmbovița during an event at the National Library, one of the few used public spaces. Photo credit: Cristian  Vasile, IGU.ro. TOC 127  Dâmbovița A 'non-place' / a space of identity “The Old Centre roars, it is full. Go and walk on the riverside in the area of the Old Center, where Smârdan reaches Dâmbovița.  There’s nothing!” (Interviewee 17) “I realized this absolutely evident thing: the fact that it is a ‘non-place’, a perfect non-place.” (Interviewee 19) “Dâmbovița is the largest unused and ignored public space of the city.” (Interviewee 17) “Dâmbovița is of maximum priority, both [1] because of its trajectory crossing the center of the city, the need for intervention, and  the potential of open spaces that can be converted or valorized on its trajectory; and [2] because it is still an important element of  identity for the citizens, even though they don’t exactly know how to relate to this river.” (Interviewee 12) Several experts consider Dâmbovița a ‘non-place’, because it is almost completely absent from the  life of the city and from the mental map of its inhabitants. Hence, unattractiveness, lack of social  activities, lack of public space and lack of resident population were mentioned as problems too. On  the other hand, many experts considered that Dâmbovița is potentially one of the most important  elements of identity of the city. Its identity is given especially by the historical value of the riverside  urban development, the ‘genius loci’, as stated by one of the interviewees. As a particular feature,  the sequentiality of different urban spaces along the periphery-centre-periphery transect provided  by its trajectory, such as the educational clusters in the NW and SE sections and the old city in the  central section, was considered to be very important. By capitalising on its identity and sequentiality,  Dâmbovița could become an important touristic route and economic attractor, a place for innovation,  education, green economies or commercial activities related to tourism and recreation. Lack of integrated planning “Dâmbovița was the object of certain studies in the last 25 years, but in most cases the studies had the ‘myopia’ to build as if there were no preceding studies.” (Interviewee 12) “Besides this problem of continuing the complex transformation—this phrase is very important, because it refers not only to the  pitching of the canal and regularization, but also to use and valorisation of surrounding areas—, the problem of the area crossed by Dâmbovița and the surroundings is not taken into account at this moment at the scale of the city.” (Interviewee 13) In terms of planning and governance, the main problem identified by the interviewees is the lack of  integrated (or “complex”, as one of the experts called it) planning. The fragmented administration,  the lack of collaboration with neighbouring municipalities, the lack of a general vision, and the lack  of a multi-scalar strategy for the river lead to fragmented responsibility, discontinuity between plans,  and lack of coordination in the city governance structure and, consequently, to difficulties in corridor- wide decision-making processes. The Integrated Urban Development Plan for the Central Area (IUDP)  (Figure 4.9), Dâmbovița Smart River (Figure 4.10), and Bucharest Strategic Concept 2035 were the  strategic plans mostly mentioned by the interviewees. Linked to the issue of planning is the decay  visible in the abandonment of riverside built structures or stagnating development, the poor condition  of the technical infrastructure, poor water quality of the surface water due to upstream exposure to  pollutants, and lack of control over the development of the corridor in the peripheral areas at the ends.  Moreover, issues of scales were noticed by some respondents: riverside urban areas out of scale, the  small size of the canalised river, the embankments dimensioned for car traffic. Although no potentials  were explicitly stated under these issues, strategic planning would integrate all the potentials form the  other categories outlined above. TOC 128 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 4.9  The Integrated Urban Development Plan for the Central Area proposes public space routes crossing the river. Besides  two bridges and the transformation of a small central segment, the plan does not develop Dâmbovița longitudinally. Source:  Synergetic Corporation et al. Retreived from http://www.centralbucuresti.ro (Accessed: 1 August 2018). FIGURE 4.10  Dâmbovița Smart River, a bottom-up project on River Dâmbovița. Source: Dâmbovița Smart River. Retreived from  https://expertforum.ro/smart-river/ (Accessed: 1 August 2018). TOC 129 Colentina § 4.4.3 Colentina According to the experts, River Colentina functions as the most important recreational space of the  city (Figure 4.11a), as it has a stronger ecological function than Dâmbovița (Figure 4.11b). However,  almost all recreational activities are concentrated in the central section of the corridor (Figure 4.11c). a b c FIGURE 4.11  (a) The current functions of Colentina (C_FCT) according to the experts. (b) Agreement on general statements about  River Colentina. (c) Map of meaningful places on River Colentina mentioned by the experts (green = positive remark; red = negative  remark; yellow = mention). TOC 130 Integrated Urban River Corridors Overview of problems and potentials Problems and potentials of River Colentina were overall more balanced (Figure 4.12, left). When  compared to Dâmbovița, the river in the north appears as slightly less a problem (50% compared to  59% in case of Dâmbovița), but also less important (73% compared to 81% in case of Dâmbovița)  for the city (Figure 4.11b). Problem-potential correspondences were found between the following  concepts: the problem of ‘a fragmented territory’ and the potential ‘axis of urban development’,  ‘artificial nature’ and ‘green blue corridor’, ‘social exclusion’ and ‘recreation’. As with Dâmbovița,  planning issues, represented here by the concept of ‘derogative planning’, are presented separately. FIGURE 4.12  Summary of the content analysis of problems (red) and potentials (orange) of River Colentina. A fragmented territory / axis of urban development “There are more problems here which are interconnected and which are related to (go figure) the post-communist period. The main problem is privatisation. In what sense? The parks and green spaces around this chain of lakes became the object of real-estate  speculation. As a result, a large part of it was taken out from the public domain […] Just like with Dâmbovița—which is a canal, not a  river—, everything derives from here.” (Interviewee 19) “[…] the public beaches disappeared. This is one of the largest losses, both from a social and economic point of view. The privatisa- tion of the sports facilities was a disaster. People still go, but […] everything that remained on Colentina is informal.” (Interviewee 9) “If you consider this a large public space, it is more and more fragmented, and there are less and less possibilities of having a coher- ent action over the whole structure.” (Interviewee 5) “It seems to me that Colentina is ignored in most part by the urban fabric. Besides the central lakes—Herăstrău, Floreasca and that’s it—, the rest is completely ignored.” (Interviewee 9) “[There] is the problem of lack of longitudinal continuity, and the very uneven distribution of transversal penetrations, uneven in terms of both position and quality.” (Interviewee 18) “There’s this rare capacity for an element that is territorial and urban at the same time […] I would call it a multi-scalar structure. This is a potential that Bucharest doesn’t have anywhere else—with the exception of the ring of forts, but which does not have the  same strength.” (Interviewee 5) “it is a structuring of sports, recreation, leisure, but also of agriculture and landscape. […] Interrelation, collaboration, because this  means, apropos of the social side, also collaboration between entities. We always tell students that birds don’t see administrative  limits.” (Interviewee 8) As illustrated in Figure 4.12, the fragmentation caused by the privatisation of the lake shores was the  problem of Colentina most frequently mentioned by the experts. After ‘89, lakeside properties have  been gradually occupied by private owners in a piecemeal fashion, as part of an uncontrolled urban  TOC 131 Colentina development process and real estate speculation in the North of Bucharest, permitted by weak urban  regulations and an unclear functional profile. This process resulted in spatial and social fragmentation,  a discontinuous service area, poor accessibility to the lake shores, and poor contact with water  (Figure 4.13). Even though it is not as centrally located as Dâmbovița, Colentina could also become an axis of  urban development, which would strengthen local urban centres in the north of the capital. This axis  could act as a balancing structure between the city and neighbouring municipalities and between  the different social groups of riverside communities. At the same time, the high spatial diversity  of riverside neighbourhoods was considered to be an important feature to maintain for future  development. The fact that it could be used as a multi-scalar structure was also identified by the  experts as an important potential. FIGURE 4.13  Inaccessible (foreground) and fragmented (background) lake shores on River Colentina. Photo credit: Claudiu Forgaci. Artificial nature / green-blue corridor “I would be curious if on some mental maps of Bucharest there is Dâmbovița. In any case, Dâmbovița may be there, but Colentina, for sure not. […] [Interviewer: Maybe lake Herăstrău…] Yes, an enclave, a lake, that is there, it doesn’t come from anywhere, it is filled  by the fire department.” (Interviewee 19) “There you have the feeling that you are in a mall. […] I think that the lakes in the North (Herăstrău and Floreasca) come with  an ideology of consumption, of amusement, of fun. […] If you look at Pantelimon, Fundeni, you will see there, without an urban  development strategy and in a chaotic way, real estate speculation. […] But it isn’t a type of speculation that would contribute to  sustainability, to the use of the lake by the community. It is more like a view from the living room, and the fake promise that you can  jog there (it’s full of weed in large parts).” (Interviewee 1) “You cannot explore the neighbourhood and you cannot have a healthy relationship with people who live nearby. No. You have your  own apartment with a lake view, you can even go to the pontoon, but that’s it. These are the only places that are asphalted; the rest  is all mud. This is because everything is privatised there, very expensive.” (Interviewee 17) “The boom of development with apartments (that is, very dense development) on the lake shores began some time around 2005- 2006, when we were getting close to 2007, when it felt like the market was getting very strong and the extraordinary reserve for this kind of development offered by the sports areas was discovered.” (Interviewee 7) “The main problem is the proximity of the rural residential. […] The closer you are (anthropically) to the aquatic zone, the higher the  vulnerability of the water body is. On top of this are the processes of washing from precipitations. The closer (especially) the traffic  networks are, the higher it is the risk of bringing pollutants from traffic and what is on the asphalt (break residues, etc.) into the  water as suspended particles.” (Interviewee 3) TOC 132 Integrated Urban River Corridors “Without the lakes in the North the green lung of Bucharest would not exist.” (Interviewee 11) “Colentina is the greatest ecological resource of the city by far, undoubtedly.” (Interviewee 9) “Colentina was thought from the very beginning as a succession of lakes accompanied by parks. And even at that time they thought  about the fact that these parks should be connected. […] If the connectivity of this green corridor is achieved, it is incredible what  could be in that area.” (Interviewee 3) “[Colentina] could be one of the important anchoring threads, stronger than Dâmbovița, in my opinion, for a future regional park system.” (Interviewee 18) The artificial character of River Colentina is one of the main themes observed in problems pointed out  by the experts. Regarding the environmental characteristics of Colentina, flood risk was indicated as  a problem in some segments of the corridor. Moreover, in case of extreme events, the municipalities  which are located upstream from Bucharest might be flooded. According to the environmental  scientist, the reduced water flow allowed through the flood defence system has an inverse influence  on the UHI effect, as it stores heat and increases the temperature instead of reducing it during the  hot season (Figure 4.14). Another environmental problem is poor water quality, partially caused by  the illegal discharges of informal and rural communities from peripheral sections of the corridor, as  pointed out by some experts. As planned in the 1930s, the ‘emerald necklace’ along river Colentina, together with the continuous  strip of green spaces on its shores could constitute a green-blue corridor for the city, in which ecology  and biodiversity could develop. This potential was mentioned by several interviewees. Environmental  aspects were also pointed out as potentials by the experts. Most of all ecosystem services, micro- climate regulation was considered to be the most important. With a sufficient water exchange rate, the  large water surface of the lakes could have a considerable air cooling effect in the North of the Capital.  Colentina was also considered a green lung, given its capacity of cleaning the air of Bucharest with its  large volume of vegetation. FIGURE 4.14  Artificial edge and low water on Lake Herăstrău. Photo credit: Claudiu Forgaci. TOC 133 Colentina Social exclusion / recreation “[T]here are villas, buildings of the nouveau riche, and this is, of course, because they are more attractive spaces [for …] a kind of real-estate investment.” (Interviewee 19) “There are the good spots on Colentina, which are the parks—Herăstrău and a few more—and there are points of total rupture.”  (Interviewee 5) “The idea is to keep people there for half a day, to keep them there with the family, to offer them more possibilities to benefit from  this space. But the dynamics in fact are of masked privatisation of parks and public spaces of the park, in the sense that some areas  are cut off, transformed into services with theoretically public access, but extremely costly, so they target certain categories of the  population.” (Interviewee 7) “[Colentina] is a place for recreation, but for a whole day, not like on Dâmbovița, where you would have a coffee for two hours and  then you would move on.” (Interviewee 17) “Together, [the lakes] could be complementary, could have a better distribution of leisure services.” (Interviewee 16) “I wish there was a possibility to do again recreational sports activities on Colentina. […] cycling routes, promenades, why not horse  tracks—we know what happens in the Netherlands, for instance—, their introduction in a system that can be crossed from one end  to another and which would offer recreational sports activities that would increase the health of the population after all. […] This is  an extremely important thing, because in Bucharest there are major problems related to the lack of physical activity. [And that’s]  because there’s no space for physical activities.” (Interviewee 7) “it should practically be the sponge that absorbs all the energy that the inhabitant of Bucharest dissipates while being in a hurry, while taking the car and running away to the mountain or to the sea. Obviously, in a weekend there’s no time for this, as 80% of the  time would be spent in traffic. Maybe not 80%, but an enormous amount of time, during which he or she could have done the same  thing on the lake shore, here in the city.” (Interviewee 14) Colentina is presented as a space of contrasts between: the rich and the poor, rural and urban, gated  and unsafe areas, central and peripheral conditions. Also, the spaces open to the public are clustered almost exclusively in the central segment of the river, namely in Park Herăstrău, while other lakes are  hardly visited (Figure 4.15), leading to a striking imbalance in the distribution of visitors. The social  imbalances created by these contrasts are among the main problems of the river, visible also in the  fragmented spatial configuration described in the previous section. On the other hand, according to the experts, river Colentina is potentially the most important  recreation space in Bucharest, especially for weekend tourism. In addition, the natural character of  the area creates a high-quality setting for residential development. For all the inhabitants of the city,  Colentina could become a great sports area. Its value as a cultural landscape could also be capitalised  on. Under these conditions, Colentina could potentially be an economic attractor, especially for smart  investments in green economy. TOC 134 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 4.15  View from the green lake shore towards the collective housing neighbourhoods in Fundeni. Photo credit: Claudiu  Forgaci. Derogative planning “I have a theory: the simplest urban regulation that is applied in Romania is the ‘three As’: anything, anywhere, anyhow. With all the  regret, this is what everybody says. Beyond the sweet-sour aspect of it, the situation is very bad. So, from my professional point of  view, the urban fabric around Colentina has an uncertain future.” (Interviewee 13) “In case of Colentina, I would say that the relationship was very soft and landscape related, concerned with the integration of built- up areas in the geographic context with a non-antagonistic attitude. This was lost as soon as it was allowed to build too close or to build too much.” (Interviewee 15) “[Colentina] is a peri-urban, metropolitan, inter-community issue. The discussion shouldn’t even be otherwise, then in a partner- ship, association structure, in which Bucharest would be a partner along with all the others that have a relationship with the natural element, from Buftea to at least Cernica.” (Interviewee 4) “There was the idea, when the GUP was drawn up in 2000, that, in order to spread the beneficial effect of the water surface and  green space on a radius that is as large as possible, in the proximity of Colentina there should be a very low building coverage (POT) and floor area ratio (CUT). This had two consequences. Those who complied with the regulations were those people who had mon- ey, thus making the rich people live even better. On the other hand, there was a consequent, perseverant, insistent effort to break  this barrier, (also) by the rich who wanted to sell the place to others at a [high] price. There was a very high pressure to increase  the density in an attractive place and often for residences of a condominium type, or individual villas on their own plot, with the  condition that the villa is as big as possible and the plot as small as possible. I think that the majority was in the second category in  the dispute with the municipality.” (Interviewee 11) “there’s no visible intention or project to think the lakes or the parks as a whole.” (Interviewee 19) “I think the largest project for Bucharest should be on the lakes of Colentina. Just look at the map from above, you see that there’s a  pearl of lakes. Dâmbovița, practically does not exist.” (Interviewee 22) “In my opinion, the pearl of lakes does not have a potential for growth besides the fact that it could improve the quality of a residen- tial area.” (Interviewee 16) The spatial transformation of River Colentina is one of the best examples of sprawling suburbanisation  and ‘derogative-’ or ‘private urbanism’ in Romania. As shown in the responses of the experts, there  are at least three main conditions which led to this phenomenon. First, property restitutions and  privatisation of agricultural and industrial land freed up lakeside locations to a quickly growing real- estate market. Second, the weak urban regulations and permissive planning instruments—chiefly  TOC 135 Discussion ZUPs—could not control this new form of urbanisation. And third, the boundary condition of the  lakes between Bucharest and neighbouring municipalities was not sustained by inter-communal  collaboration. Moreover, the administration's lack of interest for the lakes, the lack of a corridor-wide  vision, and the lack of strategies has engendered the deterioration of riverside structures, such as the  former sports and bathing facilities, and undesigned banks. § 4.5 Discussion Having learned how the two rivers are seen by the experts, at least three questions remain to be  answered. How do these results add to the knowledge on the post-communist transformation of the  two rivers? What do the results mean for URCs as defined in this thesis? And how can this knowledge  be used in design? In the previous two sections the two rivers were examined separately. Here, similarities and  differences will be discussed and related to the four domain families used in the thesis (Table 4.4):  environmental-ecologic (ENV-ECO), spatial-morphological (SPA-MOR), social-economic (SOC-ECN),  and planning-governance (PLA-GOV). Although the analysis sheds light on several issues which  have not been explicitly discussed in literature, some gaps, inconsistencies, partial explanations and  disagreements remain. The discussion in this section includes those aspects. TABLE 4.4  The main themes emerged from the QDA in relation to the four domain families. PROBLEMS POTENTIALS Dâmbovița Colentina Dâmbovița Colentina ENV-ECO Canalisation Artificial nature Geomorphology Green-blue corridor SPA-MOR Physical barrier Fragmentation Axis of urban development Crampedness - Spatial reserve - SOC-ECN A non-place Social exclusion Spatial identity Recreation PLA-GOV Lack of strategic planning - - The environmental-ecological dimension An important issue observed in the analysis is the absence of in-depth knowledge on environmental  issues and ecology. Several experts gave partial responses and reported limited knowledge on this  topic. The ones more familiar in their expertise with the topic complained that “green space is still  seen in a functionalist way” (Interviewee 14), as an imposed requirement of unbuilt square meters  “where money is lost in the city” (Interviewee 9). This is consistent with the fact that environmental  policies were adopted in a later stage of post-socialist transition, after EU accession, and that the value  of open space and ecosystem services has hardly been acknowledged yet. Even with this partial knowledge, the analysis gives a consistent result regarding the main problems  and potentials of the two rivers. Although the two rivers are different in shape and some functions, the  canalisation of Dâmbovița and the artificial nature of Colentina, two core concepts emerged from the  TOC 136 Integrated Urban River Corridors analysis, are the product of similar processes of artificialisation. The presence of the valley, as well as  the continuity of a green corridor—the parks along the lakes of Colentina and the parks along the left  valley edge in the case of Dâmbovița—seem to represent key prerequisites for a green-blue corridor. The spatial-morphological dimension By the systematic cancellation of the natural qualities of Dâmbovița through canalisation, the urban  and ecological spatial capacity of the river was ignored. In the logic of URCs, crampedness and  canalisation are symptomatic of the same phenomenon: the treatment of the urban river space as  an efficient conduit of different longitudinal flows at the expense of the transversality of the river  valley and the spatial permeability of riverside public space. Although the problem of ‘physical  barrier’ was mentioned several times, there seems to be disagreement whether Dâmbovița is or not  a barrier. As one of the interviewees stated, “the problem that Dâmbovița would cut the city in two is  false” (Interviewee 6), whereas others firmly state that “Dâmbovița is clearly a barrier and it requires  improvements in connectivity” (Interviewee 16). The fragmentation of the urban spaces along river  Colentina is very different from the crampedness of Dâmbovița. In fact, it is the reverse. On Colentina,  on the longitudinal flows are not merged, but separated and located away from the river. Transversal  connections are more dominant than on Dâmbovița.  The potential of both rivers of becoming axes of urban development is agreed upon by most  experts. However, the type of development along the two corridors is different. Colentina is seen  as a succession of smaller centralities along a large recreational and residential corridor, whereas  Dâmbovița promises to become a highly mixed central location attracting businesses taking advantage  of the latent spatial capacity available along its trajectory. The social-economic dimension It may be argued that what actually makes a difference, is not the shape but the location of the two  rivers in relation to the city. The argument of location was brought up in the case of both rivers: the  peripheral condition of Colentina and the central, diametric position of Dâmbovița are defining for  their role in the functioning of the city. On the other hand, Dâmbovița as a non-place and the socially exclusive character of Colentina are not  so different as they may seem. Both are the victims of a peripheral condition. While on Colentina rural- urban transition areas combined with sprawling and infrastructure ‘catch-up’ can be observed, in the  centre of Bucharest Dâmbovița is lifeless as it is disconnected by car traffic from the rest of the city. The  social-economic phenomena described in the interviews seem to fit well in the wider social-economic  patterns described in Section 4.2. The planning-governance dimension The lack of integrated planning on Dâmbovița and the unleashed derogative urbanism occurring on  Colentina are symptoms of the same general issues, which were highlighted as the main problems of  Bucharest: the lack of vision and strategies, the lack of collaboration between disciplines and between  administrative units, and weak regulations combined with strong property rights and extensive  privatisation. The three dimensions described above are conditioned, as stated by Sýkora and  Bouzarovski (2011), by planning and governance. One aspect that remained almost entirely implicit is that of scales and multiscalarity. Question 10 of  the questionnaire (“Is there a comprehensive multi-scalar plan/strategy for Dâmbovița/ Colentina?”)  TOC 137  Assignment addressed the topic and the responses for both rivers were almost entirely on the negative side of the  scale (86% for Dâmbovița and 95% for Colentina), but the responses were hardly elaborated. This  indicates a lacking practice of strategic planning and the need for planning and design instruments  addressing problems in a multi-scalar framework. § 4.6 Assignment As suggested in Section 4.3, the objective of the qualitative data analyses reported in this chapter  was not theory development, but to build a reliable knowledge base for assessment and design.  Thus, the first part of the thesis concludes with an assignment, which takes into account the spatial  definition of URCs (Chapter 2), as well as the historical development (Chapter 3) and current profile  (Chapter 4) of Bucharest’s river corridors. As opinions on issues related to problems and potentials in  connectivity and spatial capacity seem to be limited to the perceptions and experience of the experts,  further assessment is required to answer the following questions: How are the two URCs connected  with the city? How much and what kind of spaces can be found in the two URCs and how are they  spatially distributed? To what extent do current open spaces and connections in the two URCs support  social-ecological integration? What are the scales of action/relevance of the two URCs? Part 2 of this  thesis will address these questions by further analysing and assessing the actual and potential spatial  conditions found in the URCs of Bucharest, as a basis for further design explorations carried out in  Part 3. TOC 138 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 139  Assessment PART 2 Assessment This part includes two chapters: Chapter 5   A Framework for the Assessment of Social-Ecological Integration in Urban River     Corridors Chapter 6 Assessing the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest TOC 140 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 141  A Framework for the Assessment of Social-Ecological Integration in Urban River Corridors 5 A Framework for the Assessment of Social- Ecological Integration in Urban River Corridors § 5.1 Introduction This chapter develops a framework for the assessment of social-ecological integration in URCs. As  the first chapter of Part 2, it makes the transition from the general principles and key properties of  URCs presented in the transdisciplinary literature review of Chapter 2 to an assessment framework  that can be used to verify the spatial-morphological definition of URCs in a real-world context. After  an introduction on challenges and opportunities for sustainability assessment in Section 5.2, Section  5.3 provides an overview of current approaches to urban river assessment in the fields of urban  planning and design, landscape architecture and landscape ecology. Building on these approaches  and structured by the key properties of URCs introduced in Chapter 2, Section 5.4 assembles a system of indicators and devises a method of assessment of social-ecological integration on corridor segment  scale and corridor scale. Finally, Section 5.5 discusses some considerations of assessment quality,  such as weighing, validity, calibration and wider applicability. SUB-QUESTION AND OBJECTIVES: Sub-question 5: How can the social-ecological integration of URCs be spatially assessed? Objective 5.1: Review current approaches to the assessment of urban rivers. Section 5.3 Objective 5.2: Build an assessment framework for social-ecological integration in URCs. Section 5.4 § 5.2 Challenges and opportunities for assessment In Chapter 1, the link between urban resilience and social-ecological integration was made in two  respects. First, it was proposed that URCs are urban spaces where the potential for social-ecological integration is the highest. Second, given its explicit transdisciplinary nature, social-ecological  integration was presented as a fit concept for operationalising urban resilience. Based on combined  knowledge from spatial morphology and landscape ecology, the spatial-morphological definition  and holistic nature of the concept make it suitable for the construction of an assessment framework  using spatial indicators of social and ecological systems. To make the transition from the description  of URCs given in Part 1 to the analytical approach of this second part, challenges and opportunities of  assessment in planning for sustainability need to be highlighted. TOC 142 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 5.2.1 Assessment in planning for sustainability Within the process of urban planning, indicators can be used to explain the current state of a spatial  system in relation to a reference state, to assess the impact of particular actions on the current state  in relation to a reference state, to predict future conditions under various scenarios, or to monitor  processes of change (Briassoulis, 2001). For the purposes of planning and design, this thesis’  emphasis will be put on ex-ante evaluation—i.e. on explanation, impact assessment and prediction—,  which presents a recognised need in sustainable urban development (Gil & Duarte, 2013). According to Briassoulis (2001), indicators of sustainable development have a short history that  started in the mid-1980s, more in the ecological and environmental than in the social dimension.  Although some integrated indicators had appeared, the general approach remained mono- disciplinary. In the early 1990s, social indicators were improved and multi-disciplinary approaches to  the study of the economy-environment-society emerged. More recently, inter- and transdisciplinary  approaches replaced multidisciplinary practices and the targets of sustainable development became  more about choosing development paths than reaching a terminal state. Today, social-ecological  integration appears to be an important requirement for urban sustainability. Criteria for measuring  sustainability include “key variables to describe urban and environmental systems and their  interrelationships”, “measurable objectives and criteria to assess these interrelationships”, feedback  mechanisms at both individual and institutional levels (Alberti, 1996, pp. 381–382), as well as  knowledge of ‘where’ (context), ‘when’ (timeframe), ‘who’ (actors), ‘what’ (goals), ‘why’ (problems),  and ‘how’ (“deliberate decision making, the design of courses of action, means and implementation”)  are interrelated planning decisions made (Briassoulis, 2001). § 5.2.2 From properties to indicators of URCs The literature review of Chapter 2 presented a set of themes under four domain families representing  the environmental-ecological, social-economic, planning-governance, and spatial-morphological  knowledge on urban rivers. As shown in Table 5.1, those themes were used to summarise the main  branches of knowledge on URCs, their core principles, and to formulate a spatial-morphological  definition comprising four key properties of URCs: connectivity, open space amenity, integration and multiscalarity. The translation of the spatial-morphological definition to a real-world context raises  a few challenges. How to evaluate whether and how those properties are in place? And how can they  be translated into indicators of social-ecological integration? This chapter addresses these challenges  first by identifying current approaches to spatial assessment of urban rivers and, building on those  approaches, by proposing a system of indicators and an assessment framework for social-ecological  integration. TOC 143  Spatial metrics of urban rivers in current approaches TABLE 5.1  Summary of the main themes presented in Chapter 2 and their relation with the four properties of URCs. THEMES Properties Connectivity Open sp. amenity Integration Multiscalarity Lon. Lat. Vert. Div. Qual. Comp. Soc. Ecol. Soc.-ecol. The environmental-ecological dimension River restoration x x x x x catchment + channel Linking ecology and hydrology x x x x catchment + valley + channel Green and blue infrastructure x x x x x x region + city + neighbourhood + site The social-economic dimension The waterfront x x city + riverfront Social connectivity x x x watershed + neighbourhood + site The aesthetic value x x city + corridor + site The planning-governance dimension Legal and regulatory framework continent + country + region + catchment Planning instruments x x catchment + corridor + channel + community The spatial-morphological dimension Landscape ecology x x x x matrix + corridor + patches Landscape design and planning x x x corridor + river space + site Assessment of urban river corridors x x x x x corridor + river space § 5.3 Spatial metrics of urban rivers in current approaches In the spatial-morphological dimension, a number of attempts to quantifying urban rivers are selected  and described below: landscape metrics, landscape design principles, urban form resilience, integrated spatial quality, and ecosystem services. This section is not a literature review; the sources cited here  were selected either as an introduction to a certain approach of assessment or as an example of a river  case study. Landscape metrics “Determining the causes, consequences, and functional importance of spatial heterogeneity” (Turner  & Gardner, 2015, p. 97), i.e. quantifying the variability of landscape patterns described as patches,  corridors and matrix, is a core concern in landscape ecology. Developed to that end, landscape metrics  are “algorithms that quantify specific spatial characteristics of patches, classes of patches, or entire  landscape mosaics”, which fall into two categories: landscape composition, looking at non-spatial  attributes of the landscape (e.g. proportional abundance, richness, evenness, diversity); and landscape configuration, which require spatial information (e.g. edge length and edge density, contagion, patch  size distribution and density, patch shape complexity, core area) (Gustafson, 1998; MacGarigal,  2015). Additional categories of metrics are fractals, used, for instance, to measure shape complexity;  measures of landscape texture used for continuous rather than categorical landscape data; and  connectivity, used in nearest-neighbour approaches or as a graph-based alternative to the cell-based approaches described above (e.g. area of largest component on landscape level, and degree centrality  on patch-level) (Turner & Gardner, 2015). TOC 144 Integrated Urban River Corridors In a study on the impact of urbanisation patterns on aquatic (river) ecosystems, Alberti et al.  (2007) propose four categories of landscape metrics: land use intensity, landscape composition, landscape configuration, and connectivity. Land use intensity measures are percentage of land use class, population or housing density, road density, road intersection density. Landscape measures of  composition include percentage of land cover occupied by a certain patch type and the number of land cover classes in a landscape expressed through a diversity index such as SHDI. Typical measures of land  configuration are mean patch size (MPS), contagion (C), aggregation index (AI), and percentage-of-like- adjacency (PLADJ). Landscape metrics can further be combined with measures of connectivity of the impervious surfaces. Alberti et al. (2007, p. 359) recognise that “metrics are scale-dependent […] or  are relevant to processes operating only at specific spatial scales” and perform their analysis across five nested scales: local riparian zone; 100m, 200m, 300m riparian widths; and basin scale. Landscape metrics are used either with vector-based digital categorical maps of land-use and land- cover data or with grid-based (raster) data (Turner & Gardner, 2015). Although raster data has been  commonly used for landscape pattern analysis, vector data, such as the Corine Land Cover (CLC)  dataset (Büttner, Soukup, & Kosztra, 2014; Büttner et al., 2004; EEA, 2006), and the more detailed  Urban Atlas dataset (Copernicus Land Monitoring Service, 2016; EU, 2011), can be equally suitable for  analysis. With “reliable, inter-comparable, high-resolution land use maps for 305 Large Urban Zones”,  Urban Atlas (UA) data63 is of particular interest for more detailed urban-scale analysis. Recognising  this potential, Prastacos et al. (2017) devised a methodology for estimating spatial metrics by using  UA data to quantify and analyse the aggregation/dispersion/proximity patterns of land uses in urban  areas. Landscape design principles Design principles developed through a long-term, incremental process of trial and error are another  potential basis for developing spatial indicators. For instance, Manning (1997) gives a detailed list  of principles for social-ecological design in river landscapes. He emphasises a number of spatial  properties that must be addressed in river landscape design: margins or ecotones as transition areas, edge complexity, visibility, accessibility, diversity, hierarchy of riverside routes, natural river dynamics, the relationship between river width and crossability, the movement along, towards, and across, and the social attractiveness of crossings. All these properties are qualified in the way they are incorporated  in design principles. For example, a principle could state that the hierarchy of riverside routes should  include minor routes on the water edge and major routes collecting those minor routes away from and  parallel to the water. With a proper definition (e.g. how are routes classified as minor/major?), target  values can be derived (e.g. what is the optimal spatial relationship/distance between the water edge  and minor/major routes?) and an indicator can be formulated. Baschak and Brown (1995) build on landscape ecology principles to develop an ecological assessment  framework for the planning, design and management of urban river greenways. Their framework uses  an inventory of landscape elements classified as patches, corridors and matrix in a hierarchy of at least three scales (i.e. site, local, regional) established in terms of contextual criteria, species diversity,  spatial relationships and management units. Their assessment process is carried out in two steps:  (1) a landscape element rating, used to evaluate the relative quality of landscape elements; and (2) a  network assessment, used to measure the (existing and potential) links in the landscape. The study  of Baschak and Brown identifies three main criteria influencing the spatial structure of a corridor  63  Urban Atlas is developed by the European Environment Agency (EEA) and it is a freely available dataset with land use/cover infor- mation for the years 2006 and 2012 for most Large Urban Zones in Europe with a population above 100.000. TOC 145  Spatial metrics of urban rivers in current approaches network: (1) connections to species-rich areas, especially in urban areas where source pools are scarce;  (2) corridor to urban context relationship, e.g. the 10-15m edge effect (Forman & Godron, 1986) of  the surrounding matrix significantly impacts especially narrow corridors and small patches; and (3)  the network structure and content, e.g. “various spatial distribution models of islands and corridors  use riparian corridors” (Baschak & Brown, 1995, p. 215) as backbones connecting patches of various  sizes. Baschak and Brown conclude that, given the scarcity of open spaces in an urban environment— that is, the potential for large habitat patches—, optimal shapes, configurations and minimum widths  of corridors are more important than habitat size. The tight interaction between the fields of landscape ecology and landscape design is visible in  both Manning’s (1997) and Baschak and Brown’s (1995) studies. Yet, even though the necessity  of formulating landscape ecology principles for landscape design and planning has already been  recognised (Dramstad et al., 1996), their application to urban environments, i.e. in urban design and  planning, remains a research frontier and a practical challenge. One way to address this challenge, in  addition to formulating metrics from landscape principles, is to consider urban design principles in  formulating metrics for URCs. Urban form resilience Davis and Uffer (2013) formulate a set of physical, environmental, social and economic indicators of  urban form resilience. Indicators in the physical category include density (of population and of built  form) as a measure of intensity of development and adaptability (of the street layout and of building  types), both referring to how extra open (i.e. unbuilt) space can improve resilience. Environmental  indicators of urban form resilience are accessibility or permeability “from near and far places” and  green space coverage, that is “publically accessible green open space for recreation and the promotion  of urban biodiversity” (p.15). Social indicators of resilient urban form are diversity of land use and diversity of tenure. Finally, the economic dimension includes indicators related to property values over time and in a wider urban context. Most of these have been identified as key indicators of urban form complexity. According to Boeing  (2017, p. 3), “urban design and planning can foster diversity, connectedness, complexity, resilience,  and robustness – elements of a healthy complex adaptive system.” Boeing (2017) gives an overview  of various measures of urban form complexity, from common measures of network analysis, fractal structure, diversity, and information entropy to resilience, robustness, and adaptiveness employed at  a higher level of abstraction. Out of these, the most common measures of urban spatial complexity  are diversity and connectedness. For a precise measurement and analysis of urban diversity, a distinct  definition of the category and scale—i.e. the answer to the question ‘diversity of what and on what  scale’—is required (Sayyar & Marcus, 2011). The complexity of a network is indicated by its structure,  “in particular density, resilience, and connectedness” (Boeing, 2017, p. 10). Network measures are  divided into metric and topological. Street connectivity metrics depend on the way study areas are  drawn; topological measures, on the other hand, “may more robustly indicate the connectedness and  configuration of the network” (Boeing, 2017, p. 10). Integrated spatial quality Khan et al. (2014) describes integrative spatial quality as a concept “across scales, beyond shape and,  more importantly, across and beyond disciplines” and builds his definition on Sternberg’s (2000) four  principles: good form, i.e. proportions and interrelation between parts and the whole; legibility with reference to Lynch’s (1960) sensuous qualities; vitality referring to mixed use, fine grain, high density,  permeability; and meaning, or identity, local culture, history. TOC 146 Integrated Urban River Corridors Batista e Silva et al. (Batista e Silva, Saraiva, Ramos, Silva, et al., 2004; Batista e Silva et al., 2013;  Batista e Silva, Serdoura, & Pinto, 2006) have developed an assessment framework for the  classification of the aesthetic value of urban rivers. Although they focus on a qualitative aspect— aesthetic value—, their work is arguably one of the most extensive and integrative corridor-scale  assessment frameworks of urban rivers to date. Visual attractiveness, in their opinion, can be used as a  performance strategy recognising the complexity and multi-dimensional nature of the landscape and  the need for interdisciplinarity and a ‘holistic vision’. In addition, the experiential use of the landscape  is essential in understanding the users’ opinions, perceptions and expectations. Having recognised  these two needs, the study presented by Batista e Silva et al. (Batista e Silva, Saraiva, Ramos, Silva, et  al., 2004; Batista e Silva et al., 2013) combines two assessment methods: an expert panel providing  technical expertise and a set of interviews administered to the users of riverside areas for aspects  such as perception, preferences, and aesthetic values. In analysing the outcomes of the expert panel  session, a general framework was established, with the use of the three worlds of Habermas (1984):  the material world (River), the personal world (People), and the social world (City). Within these three  categories, expert viewpoints were structured in two levels of specification: fundamental (families  of concerns) and elementary viewpoints (measurable aspects). For each elementary viewpoint,  descriptors were used. For the category People, a sample of one hundred twenty-nine residents from  a case study area was selected and interviewed about public perception of the attractiveness of the  river corridor. All measurement scales of both the expert viewpoints and the users’ perception were  standardised to a common 0-100 cardinal scale. Reflecting on the approach put forward by them,  Batista e Silva et al. stress the importance of local specificity in interpreting the “multidimensional  world of aesthetical attractiveness” (Batista e Silva et al., 2013, p. 181) of urban river corridors  assessed and quantified in this way. Ecosystem services In the definition of the city as a social-ecological system (SES) “the flow from the ecosystem towards  society is generated through the supply of [Ecosystem Services]” (Schneiders & Müller, 2017, p. 35).  ES are related to biodiversity, which “determines the self-regulating capacity of the system and the  attitudes of biodiversity dynamics, such as resilience or adaptability” (Schneiders & Müller, 2017,  p. 35). Biodiversity can be described on four organisational levels—gene, species, ecosystem, and  landscape—and from four perspectives—composition, diversity of functions, structural diversity, and stock. In the light of mainstream uses of ecosystem services (ES) based on excessive demand and high  levels of human control, nature-based solutions imply a more balanced use of ES (Burkhard & Maes,  2017). As pointed out by Perini and Sabbion (2017), Green and Blue Infrastructure (GBI) are one  of the main sources of ecosystem sources inside urban areas; understanding, quantifying, planning  and monitoring their performance therefore is considered to be essential. In an overview of mapping  ecosystem services (Burkhard & Maes, 2017), current practices of quantifying ES are outlined, such  as landscape metrics on the organisational level of the landscape. Most of these indicators of ES are  related to measurements of provisioning, regulating and supporting services. Urbanised areas require  a detailed assessment of cultural services as well. TOC 147  Assessment framework § 5.4 Assessment framework The overview of spatial metrics given in Section 5.3 provides the base for the construction of the  indicator system used in the assessment framework for social-ecological integration in URCs. The  indicator system can be related, on the one hand, to the specific objectives of the thesis and, on the  other hand, to the spatial-morphological definition of URCs. The relation to the overall objectives  of the thesis, the indicator system is represented in Figure 5.1 as a hierarchical structure (based on  Gil & Duarte, 2013), in which urban resilience is the top-level theme of the study, social-ecological  integration in URCs is the issue of focus. Furthermore, spatial indicators and target values are defined  and organised according to criteria specific to URCs, i.e. the key properties of URCs introduced in  Section 2.2.6—connectivity, open space amenity, integration and multiscalarity—are used here as  building blocks of the assessment framework. The property ‘open space amenity’ was renamed to  the more neutral ‘spatial capacity’, for a better representation of the indicators of both social and  ecological kind. FIGURE 5.1  The structure of the indicator system used for the assessment, represented on Gil and Duarte’s (2013) hierarchical  levels of sustainable urban development tools. The transitions between different stages of definition and interpretation are also  included in the diagram. Based on: Gil & Duarte, 2013. As shown in Figure 5.2, connectivity and spatial capacity represent the main categories comprising  the spatial indicators of URCs. Corresponding to the spatial-morphological definition of URCs, both  categories are subdivided in meaningful sub-categories: longitudinal, lateral and vertical connectivity, and spatial diversity, quality and composition, respectively. In addition, all indicators in these  categories are grouped into social and ecological indicators. This way, social-ecological integration  can be assessed by confronting the results in corresponding categories of the social and ecological  dimension (e.g. social longitudinal with ecological longitudinal connectivity). Multiscalarity is attained  by translating scales of constraints—catchment and metropolitan—and scales of components—river  space and site to the scales of focus for assessment, i.e. corridor (URC) and corridor segment scale. TOC 148 Integrated Urban River Corridors The indicators of connectivity and spatial capacity described in the following two sections are defined  on a standardised three-point scale, in which values are represented as [1] low, [2] medium, and [3] high. Reference values were either adapted from the source of the indicator or were determined from  maximum and minimum plausible values of the assessment conducted in Chapter 6. When more  than one method of assessment for an indicator was found, subdivisions were provided (e.g. B.1.1.1a  and B.1.1.1b). Subdivisions were also provided for the actual and potential situation (e.g. A.2.1.1). FIGURE 5.2  Diagram of the assessment framework built on the four properties of URCs: connectivity, spatial capacity, and their subdivisions as the categories used to structure the indicator system (in orange), social and ecological categories confronted under integration (in blue), and the spectrum  of scales focused on the corridor and corridor segment under the property of multiscalarity (in green). TOC 149  Indicators of connectivity § 5.4.1 Indicators of connectivity Three-dimensional, i.e. longitudinal, lateral, and vertical, connectivity is used to structure the subcategories of both the social (A.1) and ecological (A.2) dimension. Indicators of this category,  summarised in Table 5.2, are based on landscape/urban design principles, landscape metrics and  measures of urban form. Longitudinal connectivity (A.1.1 and A.2.1) “new forms of local longitudinal connectivity are regaining importance, such as the ability to continuously walk along river banks by  introducing footpaths along the river's banks and the ability to pass continuously in canoe or kayak facilitated by removal or retrofit- ting of outdated dams and other such obstacles to navigation” (Kondolf & Pinto, 2017, p. 14). Longitudinal connectivity includes all indicators measuring the space for movement and flows along  the URC. On the social dimension, infrastructure for movement with different speeds—ranging from  high (vehicular) to low (sidewalks)—are taken into consideration (A.1.1.1-A.1.1.4). On the ecological  dimension, longitudinal connectivity is assessed based on longitudinal continuities of water and green  space in the corridor and stepping stones of ecological patches (A.2.1.1-A.2.1.3). Lateral connectivity (A.1.2 and A.2.2) “a river is something too wide to be jumped over, and therefore a significant interruption to progress or land use, yet not so wide  that its other side is perceived as unconnected or unattainable.” (Manning, 1997, p.68) “every river has two edges, continuous and parallel, near enough to be seen yet far enough apart to be tantalizing. To the attraction  of the water itself, and of the side we are on, is added the magic of the other side: a constant magnet. To reach it we must cross the  water somewhere, and the point where we cross will be special in its own right, generating other events and often an entire network  of human uses.”  (Manning, 1997, p.69) “Crossing-points are where things happen, where people meet, wait and watch; paint and sketch; enjoy the water and the sight of  others enjoying it; or spread out to explore from this convenient access point. In other words, they are contact-zones in their own  right, and must be treated as such.” (Manning, 1997, pp.86-7) Under the sub-category lateral connectivity, indicators measuring the space for movement across,  to, and from the URC are included. The social dimension of this sub-category measures accessibility  to-/from- and across the river (A.1.2.1-A.1.2.3), as well as the transversal distribution of speeds of  movement (A.1.2.4). The ecological dimension looks at transversal spaces for the connectivity of water  and plant and animal species along corridors, in terms of soil and drainage conditions, and lateral  migration of the river channel (A.2.2.1-A.2.2.3). Vertical connectivity (A.1.3 and A.2.3) “Vertical connectivity, from the upper street level; onto embankments, terraces; and eventually down to the water level and into the  water itself, has been practically lost from western cities. When constraints such as the available bank width, flood management is- sues, or water quality are not an obstacle, reestablishing this most elusive connection across the different levels becomes possible”  (Kondolf & Pinto, 2017, p. 14). Vertical connectivity, the most local of all three categories, comprises indicators of connectivity with,  into and through water. From a social point of view, direct contact and different uses of water are  assessed (A.1.3.1-A.1.3.3), while ecological indicators examine transition areas between land and  water, water and groundwater, as well as air and water (A.2.3.1-A.2.3.3). TOC 150 Integrated Urban River Corridors TABLE 5.2  Indicators of social and ecological connectivity. ID Indicator and source* Definition A CONNECTIVITY A.1 Social A.1.1 Longitudinal A.1.1.1a Slow mobility routes - continuity The presence and continuity of slow mobility routes along the river: [1] absent; [2]  discontinuous; [3] continuous. A.1.1.1b Slow mobility routes - % Percentage of waterside slow mobility routes out of the total length of riverbanks per  corridor segment. Values: [1] below 50%; [2] medium 50-75%; [3] above 75%. A.1.1.1c Slow mobility routes - location Location of riverside slow mobility routes: [1] absent; [2] on one bank or partial; [3] on  both banks. A.1.1.2a Pedestrian network - continuity The presence and continuity of riverside walkways: [1] absent; [2] discontinuous; [3]  continuous. A.1.1.2b Pedestrian network - % Percentage of walkways out of the total length of riverbanks per corridor segment.  Values: [1] below 50%; [2] medium 50-75%; [3] above 75%. A.1.1.2c Pedestrian network - location Location of walkways: [1] absent; [2] on one bank or partial; [3] on both banks. A.1.1.3a Major roads - continuity The presence of major roads along the corridor in parallel with the river: [1] absent; [2]  discontinuous; [3] continuous. A.1.1.3b Major roads - location Location of major roads: [1] on both sides of the river; [2] on one side of the river or  partially on both sides; or [3] detached from the river. A.1.1.4a Navigability – continuity (adapted from Kondolf & Pinto, 2016;  Batista e Silva et al., 2004) The possibility for navigation along the channel determined by obstacles in water: [1]  not possible (e.g. presence of weirs); [2] reduced continuity (e.g. presence of sluices);  and [3] navigable. A.1.1.4b Navigability – use (adapted from Kondolf & Pinto, 2016;  Batista e Silva et al., 2004) The section of the channel and the presence of obstacles to movement on water  determine the suitability for: [1] cargo transport (regional scale), [2] passenger  transport (city scale), or [3] recreational (corridor and river segment scale). A.1.2 Lateral A.1.2.1a Accessibility - network Percentage of the total length of riverside segments classified into low, medium and  high local integration (R500m), compared to local integration (R500m) of the road  network of the whole city. Values: [1] low, when medium and high values of local  integration are below city low values; [2] medium, when medium values are higher  than city values, and high values are lower than city values; [3] high, when high values  are higher than city values. A.1.2.1b Accessibility - residents The percentage of the total inhabited area (the area of the corridor, excluding the river  space) in the corridor which is accessible by pedestrians (500 m). A service area of 500  m is calculated from the river, i.e. from all riverside road and path intersections. Values:  [1] below 50%; [2] between 50%-75%; [3] above 75%. A.1.2.1c Accessibility - visitors (public transport) (adapted from Batista e Silva et al., 2004,  pp.63,66) Accessibility of the river space by pedestrians from public transport stops (bus, tram,  metro) per corridor and river segment. This indicator shows the percentage of the total  river length accessible by public transport in a 500m distance. Values: [1] below 50%;  [2] medium 50%-75%; [3] above 75%. A.1.2.2a Level of disruption - % (adapted from  Batista e Silva et al., 2004, pp.63,67) The percentage of riverbanks occupied by disruptive (road or rail) traffic per river corridor  and river segment: [1] more than 75%; [2] between 50-75%; [3] less than 50%. A.1.2.2b Level of disruption - classified river length The length of the river is divided and classified in [1] river sections disrupted on both  banks, [2] disrupted on one bank or [3] undisrupted by car or rail traffic. A.1.2.3a Crossability - linear density of crossings (adapted from Batista e Silva et al., 2004,  pp.63-4) Linear density of pedestrian/bike bridges (number of crossings/km) (Batista e  Silva et al., 2004; 2006; 2013) and change through time. This variable indicates to  what extent the river is perceived as a barrier to transversal movement. The scale is  determined based on the minimum plausible and maximum plausible number of  pedestrian bridges per river segment. Batista e Silva et al. use a max. plausible value of  4 bridges/km. Values: [1] 0-1 bridge/km; [2] 2-3 bridges/km; [3] ≥4 bridges/km. A.1.2.3b Crossability – river width (adapted from Kondolf & Pinto, 2017, p.190) Crossability is measured in function of the width of the river: [1] rarely bridged above  400m; [2] hard to bridge between 50-400m; or [3] easily bridged below 50m. A.1.2.4 Transversal gradient of speeds of movement (based on Tjallingii, 2005; 2015) Transversal disposition of speeds of movement: [1] fast lane along the river, slow lane  outside the river space; [2] fast and slow lane along the river; [3] slow lane along the  river, fast lane outside the river space. >>> TOC 151  Indicators of connectivity TABLE 5.2  Indicators of social and ecological connectivity. ID Indicator and source* Definition A.1.3 Vertical A.1.3.1a Contact with water – points (based on Kondolf & Pinto, 2016) The percentage of river banks where physical contact with water (e.g. stairs, beaches) is  possible. Values: [1] below 50%; [2] medium 50-75%; [3] above 75%. A.1.3.1b Contact with water – typology (adapted from  Batista e Silva et al., 2006, p.11) Points or areas of contact classified as: [1] punctual; [2] linear and short (<50m); [3]  linear and long (>50m). A.1.3.2 Contact with water – constructions (based on Kondolf & Pinto, 2016) The presence of buildings or structures providing public amenities in relation with  water: [1] absent; [2] facilities in the proximity of water; [3] facilities providing  interaction with water. A.1.3.3 Contact with water – swimming (based on Kondolf & Pinto, 2016) The presence of swimming facilities in a river segment: [1] absent; [2] isolated  swimming facilities; [3] swimming possible in the river. A.2 Ecological A.2.1 Longitudinal A.2.1.1a Landscape connectivity – existing (based on Anderson et al., 2009; Zetterberg  et al., 2010) Number of connected components in the corridor formed by vegetated patches in the  corridor. Values: [1] disconnected; [2] fragments; [3] connected. A.2.1.1b Landscape connectivity – potential (based on Anderson & Bodin, 2009;  Zetterberg et al., 2010) Number of connected components in the corridor formed by existing (vegetated) and  potential (non-vegetated open spaces) ecological patches in the corridor. Values: [1]  disconnected; [2] fragments; [3] connected. A.2.1.2a Stepping stone redundancy – existing (based on Dramstad et al., 1996, Anderson   & Bodin, 2009; Zetterberg et al., 2010) Betweenness (stepping stones) values of the patches in the network of vegetated open  spaces classified as [1] low, [2] medium, and [3] high. A.2.1.2b Stepping stone redundancy – potential (based on Dramstad et al., 1996, Anderson   & Bodin, 2009; Zetterberg et al., 2010) Betweenness (stepping stones) values of the patches in the network of existing  (vegetated) and potential (non-vegetated) open spaces classified as [1] low, [2]  medium, and [3] high. A.2.1.3 Continuity of riverside vegetation The vegetation between points of discontinuity (road crossings, walls, etc.) is classified  as: [1] absent; [2] intermittent; or [3] continuous. A2.2 Lateral A.2.2.1 Presence of transversal corridors The percentage of vegetation on transversal roads, from the river to the URC edge  are mapped and classified into: [1] absent, vegetated road segments ≤33%; [2]  intermittent, >33% and ≤66%; or [3] continuous, >66%. A.2.2.2 Connectivity of the impervious area (adapted from Alberti et al., 2007) A.2.2.3 Sinuosity (adapted from Batista e Silva et al., 2004;  based on Manning, 1997) Sinuosity can be determined by dividing channel length with down-valley length.  Values: [1] almost straight between 1,00-1,05; [2] sinuous between 1,05-1,50, and  [3] meandering above 1,50. A.2.3 Vertical A.2.3.1 Presence of ecotones (based on May, 2006) Percentage of the total length of ecotones out of the total length of river edges. Values:  [1] low for values below 25%; [2] medium for values greater than 25% but lower than  50%; and [3] high for values higher than 50%. A.2.3.2 Surface and groundwater interaction (based on Pringle, 2003) The interaction between surface- and groundwater, i.e. vertical hydrologic connectivity,  is classified according to the permeability of the riverbed: [1] no connectivity (concrete  channel); [2] partial connectivity (partially channelized or sealed riverbed); [3] total  connectivity (natural river bed). A.2.3.3 Open water surface The total area of water uncovered by bridges. Values: [1] <50% uncovered; [2]  uncovered between 50%-75%; [3] uncovered above 75%. * Indicators for which a source is not specified were proposed in this thesis. TOC 152 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 5.4.2 Indicators of spatial capacity Both the social and the ecological dimension of the category spatial capacity is divided in three sub- categories: (1) spatial diversity, (2) spatial quality and (3) spatial composition. These sub-categories are less clearly delineated than the sub-categories of connectivity, as they combine different  epistemologies of both qualitative and quantitative nature and because they are not independent.  For instance, landscape heterogeneity, here included under diversity, is also indicated by landscape  composition, another sub-category, and by landscape configuration, which is covered under indicators  of connectivity. Another example is spatial quality, which may refer both to spatial diversity and to  aspects related to legibility from a human perspective. Yet, for the same reasons, the classification  can be considered meaningful in the sense that it exhibits synergies. Indicators in this category are  summarised in Table 5.3. Spatial diversity (B.1.1 and B.2.1) Diversity (or heterogeneity) is an important spatial property in both landscape ecology and spatial  morphology. In landscape ecology, heterogeneity is “the quality or state of consisting of dissimilar  elements, as with mixed habitats or cover types occurring on a landscape; opposite of homogeneity, in  which elements are the same” (Turner & Gardner, 2015, p. 3), often measured with a diversity index  such as SHDI (B.2.1.4). In urban areas, it may refer to the relative proportion of different land uses  (B.1.1.1). Indicators of ecological diversity include biodiversity (B.2.1.1), storm water storage diversity  (B.2.1.2), presence of riparian vegetation (B.2.1.3), and SHDI (B.2.1.4). Spatial quality (B.1.2 and B.2.2) Spatial quality (or environmental quality) is approached through the lens of integrative spatial quality  proposed by Khan et al. (2014). According to Khan et al., understanding integrative spatial quality  requires a relational and transdisciplinary perspective. Social indicators in this category include  visibility (B.1.2.1), presence of landmarks and quality of the built environment (B.1.2.2-B.1.2.5)  and attractiveness of existing activities accommodated in riverside public space (B.1.2.6).  Ecological indicators refer to the degree to which natural processes, including river dynamics and  geomorphological processes are accommodated in space (B.2.2.1-B.2.2.3). Spatial composition (B.1.3 and B.2.3) “more space for water, more space for plants and animals, more space for people.” (Prominski et al., 2017, p.15) “what and how much is present of each habitat or cover type” (Turner & Gardner, 2015, p.3). In landscape ecology, spatial composition is defined as “what and how much is present of each habitat  or cover type” (Turner & Gardner, 2015, p. 3). Together with spatial configuration, it is an important  measure of landscape heterogeneity (Gustafson, 1998). Indicators in this category are concerned with  areal properties of the urban fabric and artificial spaces (B.1.3.1-B.1.3.3), as well as open and green  spaces (B.2.3.1-B.2.3.2). TOC 153  Indicators of spatial capacity TABLE 5.3  Indicators of social and ecological spatial capacity. ID Indicator and source* Definition B SPATIAL CAPACITY B.1 Social B.1.1 Spatial diversity B.1.1.1a Diversity of land uses – richness (adapted from Prastacos et al.,  2017) Patch richness density (PRD), representing the number of different land use classes per 100  hectares within the study area, is used as a measure of land use diversity. Values: [1] PRD < 0,25;  [2] 0,25 ≤ PRD < 0,75; [3] PRD ≥ 0,75. B.1.1.1b Diversity of land uses – dominance (based on O’Neill et al., 1988) Dominance represents the relative abundance of a land use class. Values (normalised): [1] ≤0,33;  [2] >0,33 and ≤0,66; [3] >0,66. B.1.1.1c Diversity of land uses – dominant  activities in riverfront (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, pp.59-61) Percentage of different types of activities such as dwelling, services, commerce, and industries in  the river space. Values: [1] not urbanised or predominantly non-urban; [2] partially urban with low  diversity of urban activities; [3] predominantly urban with diversity of urban activities. B.1.2 Spatial quality B.1.2.1a Visual permeability - % visible river  space Percentage of visible open space within the river space. Values: [1] low visibility, when lower than  25%, [2] medium visibility between 25% and 75%, and [3] high visibility above 75%. B.1.2.1b Visual permeability – linear density  of visual intersections (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, pp.48-49) The visibility of the river space from the surrounding urban fabric is measured by the linear density  of visual intersections between transversal visual axes and the river. Values: [1] 0-3 intersections/ km; [2] 4-6 intersections/km; [3] 7-10 intersections/km. The maximum plausible and the  corresponding categories may differ depending on specific URC or corridor segment conditions. B.1.2.1c Visual permeability - average length  of transversal visual axes (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, pp.48-49) Average length of visual axes with the river in a corridor segment, i.e. length of visual axes per  number of visual axes intersecting the river. The maximum plausible (M) is determined for each  corridor segment. Values: [1] ≤M/3; [2] >M/3 and ≤2M/3; [3] >2M/3. B.1.2.1d Visual permeability - no. of  belvederes (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, pp.48-49) Number of belvederes (no. of belvederes/area of river corridor (km2). The maximum plausible  number of belvederes (M) is determined in a site analysis. Values: [1] ≤M/3; [2] >M/3 and ≤2M/3;  [3] >2M/3. B.1.2.2 Density of landmarks Number of landmarks per area of river corridor. Maximum/target (M) is determined by a landscape  analysis. Values: [1] ≤M/3; [2] >M/3 and ≤2M/3; [3] >2M/3. B.1.2.3 Built space quality (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, pp.51-53) Built space quality according to local building quality classification: [1] good quality; [2] medium  quality; [3] bad quality. B.1.2.4 Public utility of riverfront (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, p.53) Predominance of attractive riverside public space (incl. green space). Values are given by the  predominance of: [1] private space, public space not designated for pedestrian use (streets and  parking); [2] unattractive public space; [3] attractive public space. B.1.2.5 Cultural heritage (CH) - public  interest of present CH values (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, pp.56-57) “The amount of classified CH units in the river corridor with officially recognized public interest.”  (Batista e Silva et al., 2004, p.57) Maximum/target (M) is determined by a site analysis. Values: [1]  ≤M/3; [2] >M/3 and ≤2M/3; [3] >2M/3. B.1.2.6 Pollution (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, p.69) Pollution classified according to local measurements of water quality: [1] poor; [2] fair; [3] good. B.1.2.7 Attractiveness of existing activities (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, p.62) The attractiveness of areas in a riverfront “is influenced by their distinctiveness, which makes them  different from other common places in the city playing a different or specific role in the daily life of  the city.” Values: [1] low; [2] medium; [3] high. >>> TOC 154 Integrated Urban River Corridors TABLE 5.3  Indicators of social and ecological spatial capacity. ID Indicator and source* Definition B.1.3 Spatial composition B.1.3.1 Intensity of construction (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, pp.55-56) Gross floor area of construction per net surface of the river front. The maximum plausible intensity  of construction (M) is determined in a site analysis. Values: [1] ≤M/3; [2] >M/3 and ≤2M/3; [3]  >2M/3. B.1.3.2a Waterfront constitutedness -  composition Waterfront constitutedness is indicated by the percentage of the total length of built fronts  projected on the river edges out of the total length of the river edges, corrected with a coefficient  of fragmentation (standard deviation from maximum potential constitutedness). Values are  standardized and classified as: [1] value ≤ 50%; [2] 50% < value ≤ 75%; [3] value > 75%. B.1.3.2b Waterfront constitutedness -  configuration Waterfront constitutedness is indicated by the perimeter-area ratio of the river space in a corridor  segment. Values are determined according to the standard deviation from maximum possible  constitutedness as: [1] fragmented; [2] partially constituted; [3] constituted. B.1.3.3 Coverage - % parking spaces Parking space coverage is indicated by the percentage of the total area of parking spaces out of  the total area of open spaces in the corridor segment and it is classified as: [1] low, below 10%; [2]  medium, between 10%-20%; [3] high, above 20%. The maximum plausible and the corresponding  categories may differ depending on specific URC or corridor segment conditions. B.2 Ecological B.2.1 Spatial Diversity B.2.1.1 Biodiversity Species-rich areas in the corridor are mapped and classified as follows: [1] low, when no such  area is present, [2] medium, when they are present in the proximity of the river, or [3] high, when  species-rich areas are in direct contact with the river, i.e. they constitute part of the riparian space. B.2.1.2 Storm water storage diversity Different types of storm water storage solutions, classified as: [1] absent or neglected, grey  infrastructure accommodating mainly drainage; [2] storage through grey infrastructure  and pervious surfaces; [3] storage through pervious surfaces and a variety of green and blue  infrastructure solutions, in addition to grey infrastructure. B.2.1.3 Presence of different types of  vegetation species (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, p.42) Riparian vegetation classified as: [1] absent or herbaceous vegetation; [2] scarce trees in one or  both margins; [3] well developed and continuous riparian vegetation in both margins. B.2.1.4 Shannon diversity index (SHDI) (based on Alberti et al., 2007) “The number of land cover classes in the landscape, [calculated as the] minus the sum, across  all patch types, of the proportional abundance of each patch type multiplied by that proportion.”  (Alberti et al., 2007, p. 352). Values (normalised): [1] ≤0,33; [2] >0,33 and ≤0,66; [3] >0,66. B.2.2 Spatial quality B.2.2.1 Flood vulnerability - % (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, pp.45-46) Percentage of the total area of the corridor within the area of a 100-year flood. Values: [1] low; [2]  medium; [3] high. As stated by Batista e Silva et al. (2004), adequate risk cartography is required for  the assessment; values for the three classes are determined accordingly. B.2.2.2 Bank erosion or landslide risk - % (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, p.46) Percentage of the total length of river banks with potential erosion or landslides. Values: [1] low; [2]  medium; [3] high. As stated by Batista e Silva et al. (2004), adequate risk cartography is required for  the assessment; values for the three classes are determined accordingly. B.2.2.3 Respect of natural dynamics (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, p.34) Degree of disturbance of the river channel classified as: [1] highly disturbed (very artificial,  channelized, concrete bed and banks), [2] moderately disturbed (artificial, channelized or concrete  bed or banks), or [3] undisturbed (close to natural conditions). B.2.3 Spatial composition B.2.3.1a Coverage - % open space The percentage of the total area of open spaces in a corridor segment out of the total area of  the corridor segment. Open spaces are all unbuilt spaces, excluding the area occupied by road  infrastructure and water. Values: [1] below 50%; [2] medium 50-75%; [3] above 75%. B.2.3.1b Coverage - % green space (based on Davis & Uffer, 2013) Green space coverage is indicated by the percentage of the total area of green spaces out of the total  area of the corridor segment and it is classified as: [1] low, below 20%; [2] medium, between 20%- 40%; [3] high, above 40%. B.2.3.1c Coverage - % total impervious area (based on Alberti et al., 2007) Percent total impervious area (%TIA) is classified as: [1] high imperviousness, below 20%; [2]  medium imperviousness, between 20%-40%; [3] low imperviousness, above 40%. The maximum  plausible and the corresponding categories are determined according to specific URC or corridor  segment conditions. B.2.3.2 Width of riparian vegetation (adapted from Batista e Silva et al.,  2004, pp.42-43) The riparian vegetation is classified as: [1] absent or narrow, value between 0-12m; [2] medium,  value between 12-20m; [3] large, value >20m. * Indicators for which a source is not specified were proposed in this thesis. TOC 155  Scalar framework § 5.4.3 Scalar framework As explained in the spatial definition of URCs presented in Section 2.3, the scalar framework of  the analyses uses a three-level hierarchy of scales: scale of context, scale of focus and scale of detail (Turner & Gardner, 2015). The assessment is carried out at the scale of focus: the URC and the  corridor segment, delineated spatially according to the method described in Section 2.3. Within  this framework, any spatial implication of the larger scales of context (the catchment or the urban  hinterland) or of scales of detailed interventions (in the river space or the individual project) must be  first translated to the scale of the corridor segment before it can be subjected to assessment. § 5.4.4 Social-ecological integration assessment The assessment of social-ecological integration is made by confronting the social and ecological  dimensions of each sub-category described above on the scale of the river corridor segment. Each  indicator is assessed on a standardised three-point scale. Although the indicator system proposed  here can be used in various ways, in this method the selection of at least one representative indicator  per sub-category is required for a complete assessment. The results per sub-category are summarised  with minimum values in a mirorred assessment chart, as presented in Figure 5.3. In this mirrored  assessment chart, the level of social-ecological integration is given by the lowest score of the social  or the ecological dimension for each sub-category. When scores are different in the two dimensions,  areas of strategic intervention are identified with a ‘+’. In terms of planning and design decision, these  areas represent the minimum desirable goal that needs to be attained for social-ecological integration.  The results of each corridor segment are summarised and compared in radar charts (see Figure 6.7 in  the next chapter) and an assessment of the whole corridor is made by highlighting segments of high  and low social-ecological integration, as well as areas of strategic corridor-scale intervention (e.g.  actions that can be replicated across corridor segments where similar potentials for social-ecological  integration are observed). FIGURE 5.3  Example of a mirrored assessment chart, summarizing social-ecological integration assessment on the scale of a  corridor segment. Fields with ‘+’ mark areas of intervention towards the minimum desirable goal. TOC 156 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 5.5 Discussion This assessment framework provides a general estimation of social-ecological integration in URCs.  That is, its main purpose is to inform early stages of decision-making, to guide more targeted analyses  and to provide an evidence base for urban design and planning. Yet, if the target is a fully fledged  assessment of social-ecological integration in a real-world context, then some limitations of the  indicator system and the assessment method developed in this chapter must be considered. The quality of an indicator system is subject to issues of weighing, validity, calibration and  comparability across cases. The system of indicators presented in this chapter puts an equal weight  on each indicator, even though some indicators might have a higher impact on the sub-category  that they are part of than others. Also, redundancies and synergies between indicators could not  be fully identified. For improvements to these issues to be made, the indicator system needs to be  tested, validated, and calibrated on different URCs. A reliable method of weighing based on local  conditions (e.g. making use of the opinions of local experts or the public) can improve the accuracy of  the assessment. Validation with different URCs can also improve the scientific underpinning, output  and usefulness of the indicators. Given the extensive use of relative values in the indicator system  introduced in this chapter (e.g. maximum and minimum plausible values), and thus the lack of  comparability across cases, applications on different URCs can be used to calibrate benchmarks and  hence increase the wider applicability of the indicator system. The method of assessment, i.e. the aggregation of the indicators to the six sub-categories and the use  of the mirrored assessment chart to confront indicators of corresponding social and ecological sub- categories, may lead to under-evaluation of the actual situation. However, the use of potential values  (i.e. the fields marked with a ‘+’ in the mirrored assessment chart) provide knowledge of strategic  areas of intervention towards a minimum desirable goal, which balances the minimum aggregation  method. Furthermore, as the assessment framework is part of a larger planning or design process,  other external constraints and unidentified potentials can be considered in the unmarked fields of the  assessment chart. These constraints and potentials will be further discussed in the application on the  URCs of Bucharest presented in Chapter 6. Regarding the wider implications of this assessment framework, a few questions and avenues for  exploration are left open. How can the knowledge gained from assessment inform design and planning  for social-ecological resilience? Or, how does corridor-scale social-ecological integration contribute to  city-scale resilience? To what extent can the design process lead to discoveries that are not pointed out  in the assessment? The following chapters will set out to tackle these challenges. TOC 157 Conclusion § 5.6 Conclusion This chapter translated the spatial-morphological definition of URCs formulated in Chapter 2 into  an assessment framework, that is, a system of indicators and a method of assessing social-ecological integration in URCs. Informed by an overview of current approaches to urban river assessment in  urban planning and design, landscape architecture and landscape ecology, and structured by the four  properties of URCs, the assessment framework comprises a system of social and ecological indicators of connectivity (with the sub-categories of lateral, longitudinal and vertical connectivity) and spatial capacity (with the sub-categories of spatial diversity, spatial quality, and spatial composition). The  method of the mirrored assessment chart confronts social and ecological indicators of corresponding sub-categories (e.g. ecological spatial diversity and social spatial diversity) on corridor segment  scale and on the scale of the URC. As a planning or design decision tool, this method of assessment  highlights key areas of intervention for a minimum desirable goal of social-ecological integration. In the next chapter, the two URCs of Bucharest are used to demonstrate the application of the  assessment framework. TOC 158 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 159 Assessing the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest 6 Assessing the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest § 6.1 Introduction With the aim of demonstrating the application of the assessment framework developed in Chapter 5  on a real-world case, this chapter presents a full assessment of URC Dâmbovița and a demonstration  of wider applicability on URC Colentina. Based on problems and potentials derived from the expert  interviews presented in Chapter 4, a case-specific subset is selected from the indicator system for both  URCs of Bucharest. Before the assessment, Section 6.2 presents the units of assessment, that is, the  corridor segments of URC Dâmbovița delineated according to the method introduced in Section 2.3,  explains the reasoning behind the selection of indicators, and provides some specifications related  to data and implementation. Section 6.3 presents the results of the assessment carried out on URC  Dâmbovița in three steps: measurements of all indicators are summarised under the sub-categories of  connectivity (longitudinal, lateral and vertical) and spatial capacity (diversity, quality and composition)  and potential synergies between indicators are highlighted (Sections 6.3.1 and 6.3.2); a mirrored  assessment chart is used as a method for segment-scale assessment of social-ecological integration;  corridor-scale assessment is used to compare segment-scale results and to identify typologies of  potential social-ecological integration (Section 6.3.3). Section 6.4 illustrates the wider application of  the assessment framework on URC Colentina. The chapter ends with a discussion on challenges and  opportunities that arise from the assessment process (Section 6.5), and a set of recommendations for  design (Section 6.6). SUB-QUESTION AND OBJECTIVES: Sub-question 6: To what extent are the URCs of Bucharest social-ecologically integrated? Objective 6.1: Assess social-ecological integration in URC Dâmbovița. Section 6.3 Objective 6.2: Demonstrate the wider application of the assessment framework on URC Colentina. Section 6.4 § 6.2 Assessment methodology As it will be demonstrated in Section 6.3 on URC Dâmbovița and further illustrated with URC Colentina  in Section 6.4, a complete assessment process consists of the delineation of the study area and the  units of assessment, selection of indicators according to a number of criteria, and segment- and  corridor-scale assessment. TOC 160 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 6.2.1 Study area and assessment units The study area (the URC) and the assessment units (CSs) are determined according to the method  of delineation presented in Section 2.3. The outer boundaries of the URC are delineated by major  transport routes parallel to- and outside the river valley. Corridor segments (CSs) are delineated with  major transversal roads and are defined as distinct morphological units with relatively high potential  accessibility towards the river. URC Delineated according to this method, URC Dâmbovița consists  of 9 corridor segments (Figure 6.1). CSs are chosen as the spatial units of analysis as they offer a  sufficiently detailed area of analysis while remaining representative modules of the overall corridor.  The two end segments CS01 and CS09 are considerably larger than CS02-CS08 in the middle of the  corridor. They were maintained as such due to their less dense and peripheral position and more  continuous spatial morphology. A possible subdivision can amend this subdivision in the future if the  express road in CS01 and the median ring in CS09 are built. FIGURE 6.1  The delineation of URC Dâmbovița and its segments. § 6.2.2 Selection of indicators The indicator list presented in Chapter 5 can be selectively adapted to specific cases. A complete  assessment using all indicators might not be necessary, nor feasible. A selection of a representative  subset of indicators is used in this chapter to demonstrate the assessment process on the case of URC  Dâmbovița and URC Colentina in Bucharest. The selection of indicators for both corridors was made  (see the selection of indicators for URC Dâmbovița in Table 6.1) based on the following criteria: – Representativeness is achieved by selecting at least one indicator from each sub-category of the  indicator system. This balanced distribution of indicators is important for a complete assessment of  social-ecological integration. – The selection of indicators within each sub-category is case-/application-specific. Case-specificity is  achieved in this assessment by selecting indicators corresponding to major local issues, as identified  by the local experts in Chapter 4. Application-specificity is related to case-specificity and it is  determined by the objectives of the assessment. For instance, if description of the current situation  is the main objective, indicators of the actual situation are preferred. If the assessment is used for  TOC 161  Data and implementation planning decisions—i.e., how can the social-ecological integration of the URC be improved?—, then  indicators of potentials must be included in the selection. In this case, indicators of both the actual  and, as much as possible, the potential situation were included in the selection. – In addition, the use of certain indicators may be constrained by data availability. Within the  constraints of the first two criteria (representativeness and case-/application-specificity), the  indicators for which data is readily available are selected. – Implementation constraints can be also a criterion for selection. Indicators for which implementation  knowledge is lacking—e.g. the use of a new software or method of analysis—can be avoided. § 6.2.3 Data and implementation This assessment uses open geographic data, namely OpenStreetMap (OSM), Urban Atlas (UA)  data, and SRTM DEM data.64 Due to its thorough global coverage (relatively complete especially in  urban areas) and high update rate, OSM was chosen as the main data source for this assessment. In  addition, UA data were used for more detailed and consistent land cover and land use information,  where a complete partition of space was needed for the calculation of some indicators. In response to  the requirements of context specificity and data availability stated above, OSM and UA data for the city  of Bucharest were considered suitable for the purposes of this assessment. For in-depth analyses, subsequent to and informed by this assessment, more detailed and  authoritative geographic data can be used (e.g. building and parcel data from municipal sources).  In addition, the assessment framework can be supplemented with other types of data, such as  biophysical data from remote sensing, socio-economic data, environmental data, climate data, or  primary data collected through site surveys. Whenever data-related recommendations could be made, or limitations were observed during  analysis, they were included in the description of the indicator in question. The assessment made use  of GIS software—ArcGIS and QGIS—as well as indicator-specific tools, such as the Space Syntax Toolkit for QGIS, Fluvial Corridor and MatrixGreen for ArcGIS to generate geographic data, to perform spatial  and network analyses and to integrate different types of data. A detailed description of the tools used  for each indicator, including specific recommendations, can be found in Appendix E. 64  OpenStreetMap (OSM) is the most comprehensive source of volunteered geographic information (VGI) on a global scale. Urban  Atlas (UA) is a dataset developed by the European Environment Agency (EEA) for land use/cover applications in urban areas. The UA  dataset contains most Large Urban Zones (LUZs)—cities with a population over 100.000—of the EU for the reference years 2006  and 2012. 30-meter resolution Digital Elevation Models (DEM) from the Shuttle Radar Topography Mission (SRTM) data are freely  available from NASA. TOC 162 Integrated Urban River Corridors PROBLEMS POTENTIALS SELECTED INDICATORS Connectivity Longitudinal Social It is currently a thoroughfare crossing the  city diametrically. Transversal crossings  (mostly car bridges) are obstacles to longi- tudinal pedestrian movement. It could be a slow mobility corridor crossing  the city. A.1.1.1a Slow mobility routes - continuitiy A.1.1.1b Slow mobility routes - % A.1.1.1c Slow mobility routes - location Ecological It does not function as a green corridor. A large part of the river flow is underground;  the weirs are barriers to fish movement;  river dynamics (e.g. sedimentation) are  absent. Although detached from the river, the  parks on the right valley edge represent an  important green structure. A.2.1.1a Landscape connectivity - connect- ed components A.2.1.1b Landscape connectivity - stepping  stones Lateral Social Riverside walkways are difficult to access  and, according to some experts, the river is  hard to cross. It could become a balancing structure bring- ing local communities and inhabitants of  the whole city together. A.1.2.1a Accessibility - network A.1.2.1b Accessibility - residents A.1.2.1c Accessibility - visitors A.1.2.3a Crossability - linear density of crossings A.1.2.3b Crossability - river width Ecological Tributaries and lateral corridors have been disconnected from the river due to  canalisation. The morphology of the river and the valley  can be used to understand and restore the qualities of the river. A.2.2.1 Presence of transversal corridors A.2.2.3 Sinuosity Vertical Social Besides the occasional use of the river for fishing, there is almost no physical contact  with water. Some points such as abandoned weirs or  service ramps could become access points  to the river. A.1.3.1a Contact with water - points A.1.3.1b Contact with water - typology A.1.3.2 Contact with water - constructions A.1.3.3 Contact with water - swimming Ecological The design of the river as a sealed concrete canal does not allow for interaction with groundwater, nor for gradients or ecotones on the riverbank. The spontaneous riverbank vegetation in  certain river segments could be extended  to the water. A.2.3.1 Presence of ecotones Spatial capacity Diversity Social The functional and spatial diversity of the  river is not capitalised on. It is perceived as a fragmented rather than a diverse urban  space. Dâmbovița could become an axis of urban  development. Its sequentiality, i.e. the  succession of urban areas with different  characteristics along its trajectory, is an  important part of its identity. B.1.1.1a Diversity of land uses - richness B.1.1.1b Diversity of land uses - dominance B.1.1.2 Attractiveness of existing activities Ecological The quality of water and the delivery of  ecosystem services are poor. Large natural areas like Lake Văcărești, are  important sources of biodiversity. B.2.1.1 Biodiversity—presence of spe- cies-rich areas Quality Social It is unattractive, hardly visible, it lacks pub- lic spaces, and it is considered a 'non-place'. It could become the largest public space of  the city. B.1.2.1a Visual permeability - % of visible river space B.1.2.1b / B.1.2.1c / B.1.2.1d Ecological The quality of water and the delivery of  ecosystem services are poor. B.2.2.4 Respect of natural dynamics Composition Social The river space is cramped in the central  part of the river and fragmented in peripher- al segments. In both cases, the riverside  urban fabric hardly interacts with the river. Riverside abandoned urban structures or fragmented spaces, such as brownfields and  former industrial buildings, could accom- modate new projects and public spaces. B.1.3.2a Waterfront constitutedness - configuration B.1.3.2b Waterfront constitutedness -  composition Ecological There is a latent flood risk due to canalisa- tion, but it is mitigated on a regional level  and there is no spatial reserve for flooding,  i.e. a floodplain, inside the city. Open spaces, currently unused or used as  parking spaces (mostly impervious), present  an important potential for increasing the  spatial capacity of the river. B.2.3.1a Coverage - % open space B.2.3.1b Coverage - % green space B.2.3.1c Coverage - % total impervious area TABLE 6.1  Indicators selected for URC Dâmbovița, according to the criteria of representativeness and case-specificity, i.e. corresponding to the main  problems and potentials identified by local experts (see Chapter 4 for a detailed analysis of the experts' opinions and Appendix E for a full list of problems  and potentials, from which the summary in this table was made). A subset (marked with blue) was selected according to the criteria of data availability and  implementation constraints. TOC 163  Corridor segment analysis § 6.3 Corridor segment analysis A complete assessment was carried out on the nine segments of URC Dâmbovița with the indicators  highlighted in Table 6.1. In what follows, the results are summarised under the six sub-categories of  the indicator system (Sections 6.3.1 and 6.3.2) and the assessment of social-ecological integration  is demonstrated on corridor-segment-scale (CS03) and URC-scale (Section 6.3.3). The results for all  indicators used in the assessment are included in Appendix E. § 6.3.1 Connectivity Issues related to connectivity on River Dâmbovița have been pointed out already in Chapters 3 and  4. Most of those issues were related to the way people move along, to, across and in URC Dâmbovița.  Connectivity was described as a problem whenever it creates barriers through fast vehicular movement  along the river, and as a potential when it facilitates pedestrian access to and slow movement along  the river. The assessment of three-dimensional connectivity presented here responds to those  observations and adds to them a more explicit ecological view. Each indicator was measured on the  scale of a corridor segment for all segments of the URC. Figure 6.2 gives an example of an indicator  used for the assessment of connectivity. Longitudinal connectivity Most local experts have agreed that, on one hand, Dâmbovița is a traffic corridor dedicated to fast  vehicular movement and that, on the other hand, it could become a major slow mobility route of the  city (Table 6.1). Assuming that bike paths are markers of consolidated slow mobility routes, their  presence and continuity (see indicators A.1.1.1b and A.1.1.1a, respectively, in Appendix E) were  chosen as a measure of actual longitudinal connectivity in the social category. Although longitudinal  vehicular traffic is relatively well accommodated along River Dâmbovița, the analysis shows that the  actual longitudinal connectivity of slow mobility routes is low. Looking at the percentage of slow  mobility routes, it is visible that bike paths are only present in river segments CS03 (55% of the total  length of riverbanks), CS04 (98%) and CS05 (36%) located in the centre of the city, leaving riverside  paths in the other river segments completely disconnected from the bike path network. As a result,  actual longitudinal connectivity of slow mobility routes on the scale of the corridor is considered to  be low. However, given the continuity of riverside roads, the potential for a continuous corridor route  is high. On the ecological dimension, actual and potential longitudinal connectivity is measured at the scale  of the corridor. Landscape connectivity metrics show that, even though the network of green patches  crossing the city is not continuous, there is a high potential to achieve continuity—i.e. one connected  component crossing the city along the corridor—by including non-vegetated open spaces in the  network (see indicator A.2.1.1a in Appendix E). Lateral connectivity According to several experts, an important problem of River Dâmbovița is that riverside walkways  are difficult to access by pedestrians; on the other hand, some experts state that it could potentially  become a balancing structure bringing local communities together (Table 6.1). Network analysis  TOC 164 Integrated Urban River Corridors carried out with indicator A.1.2.1a shows that the local accessibility of riverside paths—i.e. the  possibility to access the river within a 500m walking distance—is high in central river segments CS04  and CS05, and that it gradually decreases through medium values in CS02, CS03, CS06 and CS07  to low values in the peripheral segments CS01, CS08 and CS09. Accessibility from public transport  stops (A.1.2.1c), indicating the potential access to the river for visitors is high (above 75%) in most  segments (Figure 6.2). Exceptions are CS07 with a medium value (64%) and the peripheral segments  CS01 (4%) and CS09 (48%) with low values. Crossability was recorded with mostly medium values for  the linear density of bridges (2-3 bridges/km) in the actual situation (A.1.2.3a Crossability – linear  density of bridges) and with mostly high potential values given by the narrow cross section (below  50m) of the river (A.1.2.3b Crossability – river width). FIGURE 6.2  Accessibility from public transport stops (A.1.2.1c Accessibility – visitors), as an example of a connectivity indicator applied on URC  Dâmbovița and detailed on corridor segment CS03. Regarding ecological connectivity on the lateral dimension, the disconnection of tributaries and lateral  corridors were mentioned, as well as the hidden potential of the river valley to restore the qualities of  the corridor (Table 6.1). The presence of transversal corridors (A.2.2.1), indicating the ecological side  of lateral connectivity, gave less regular results than lateral connectivity indicators related to people’s  TOC 165  Connectivity movement. Here ecological lateral connectivity varies between low and medium values and it is mainly  provided by the succession of green patches along roads intersecting the river. The smallest value was  recorded in CS06 (11%) and the highest in CS09 (80%). Vertical connectivity It was repeatedly pointed out during the interviews that the canalised profile of the river offers no  possibility for physical interaction with water, such as bathing and boating (Table 6.1). From the point  of view of hydrological and ecological vertical connectivity, the sealed profile of the river does not allow  for interaction between the river and ground water, nor does it provide the conditions for ecological transition zones between terrestrial and aquatic ecosystems. Vertical connectivity, assessed by the  number of contact points with water (A.1.3.1a) and the presence of ecotones (A.2.3.1), obtained the  minimum score (less than 2 contact points per km) for most corridor segments on the social side,  and for all corridor segments on the ecological side (total absence of ecotones), as both human and  ecological contact is obstructed by the canalised design of the river. The only exception is CS05, where  a number of five balconies and a floating platform were recently added on the widest segment of the  river in front of the National Library. This river segment in particular was mentioned by the experts as  one of the most attractive public spaces along the river and the only place where events on water take  place. Although existing technical structures, such as the piers, ramps or stairs counted along River  Dâmbovița as contact points, can be used to improve the contact with water, more points of access,  such as the new structures added in CS05, are needed for an increased score. Also, a less sealed and more gradual river section, combined with existing and new points of access, can improve the  potential of both social and ecological vertical connectivity. FIGURE 6.3  Summary of three-dimensional connectivity assessment. As shown in Figure 6.3, the actual three-dimensional connectivity of URC Dâmbovița is low, mainly  on the vertical dimension. However, as pointed out above, a number of spatial potentials for improved  connectivity can be observed on all three dimensions: – The continuity of the traffic corridor along and on both sides of the river creates the conditions for  improved longitudinal social connectivity. Longitudinal ecological connectivity can also be improved  by transforming non-vegetated open spaces into ecological patches acting as stepping stones for  species movement. TOC 166 Integrated Urban River Corridors – The high potential crossability of the river, as well as the relatively high local accessibility of riverside  paths in the overall street network of the city, allows for a potential increase of lateral connectivity in  URC Dâmbovița especially in corridor segments CS04 and CS05 (see Table 6.2). – Although both social and ecological connectivity scored low on the vertical dimension, riverbanks  redesigned with a more gradual transition between land and water and a more permeable ground can  considerably improve vertical connectivity. § 6.3.2 Spatial capacity The lack of riverside public space and green space, as well as the confinement of a large part of river in  an underground culvert, were mentioned by several experts as a major problem of River Dâmbovița.  Another issue stated by most experts is that the river is highly unattractive, although the sequentiality  of different spatial identities along its trajectory and its central position could potentially make it the  largest public space of the city. Assessment of spatial capacity addresses these issues with indicators  of spatial diversity, spatial quality, and spatial abundance (see example in Figure 6.4). Spatial diversity—mixed use and landscape heterogeneity According to some local experts, the potential for functional and spatial diversity of River Dâmbovița  is unused; instead, it is currently perceived as a fragmented urban space. If this potential is exploited,  several experts stated, River Dâmbovița could become the largest public space of the city (Table  6.1). Analysis shows that the diversity of land uses (B.1.1.1a) in the social dimension is medium for  most corridor segments. From an ecological perspective, biodiversity (B.2.1.1) scored low in all river  segments (no species-rich areas), except CS08 where Văcărești Natural Park is located and in the two  end segments which are directly connected to the landscape surrounding the city. Although diversity can be improved locally by mixed use interventions and landscaping that combines  different habitat types, sustainable diversity is highly dependent on connectivity. Improvements in  longitudinal, lateral and vertical connectivity (indicated by A.1.1.1, A.2.1.1, A1.2.1, A.2.2.1, A.1.3.1  and A.2.3.1) can have a positive impact on increasing potential functional diversity and biodiversity.  Similarly, improved spatial quality (e.g. indicated by B.2.2.4 Visual permeability) and spatial  abundance (e.g. indicated by B.2.3.1 Coverage) can encourage diversity. Spatial quality—attractiveness and respect of natural dynamics Many of the interviewed experts considered URC Dâmbovița a ‘non-place’, that is, a place where  people do not go or do not know of. They also pointed out the potential of the river space to become  an element of spatial identity for the whole city (Table 6.1). In terms of visual permeability (B.1.2.1a,  Figure 6.4), the river space of Dâmbovița scored medium values (i.e. more than 25% of the river space  is visible) in all corridor segments, except CS01, which scored high (above 75%). On the ecological  dimension, however, the whole corridor scored low (highly disturbed), as the river currently does  not accommodate natural dynamics, such as sedimentation and erosion (B.2.2.4 Respect of natural  dynamics).  Apart from augmenting the current visibility of River Dâmbovița, shown by the indicator of visual  permeability, attractiveness requires increased spatial diversity (see indicators B.1.1.1 and B.2.1.1)  and spatial capacity (e.g. B.2.3.1 Coverage). Moreover, indicators of connectivity (e.g. A.1.2.1  TOC 167  Spatial capacity Accessibility or A.2.2.3 Sinuosity), can provide further insights on the potential attractiveness of  riverside urban spaces. CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface Viewshed Buildings 0 500m 100 80 60 40 20 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 75% 25% 44%50% 79% 57% 44% 29% 37% 55% 38% FIGURE 6.4  Visual permeability - % of visible river space (B.1.2.1a), as an example of a spatial capacity indicator applied on URC Dâmbovița and  detailed on corridor segment CS03. Spatial composition—intensity and abundance A general observation across the expert interviews (Table 6.1) was that the urban space along River  Dâmbovița is cramped due to the built density, especially in central segments. Similarly, the space  of the river is confined to an underground culvert and a surface canal that constrain the lateral  movement of water and the ecological development of the riparian space. Yet, as mentioned by some  interviewees, underused structures and open spaces could be used to accommodate new public  spaces and ecological space. Analysis of the spatial configuration of the waterfront (B.1.3.2a), chosen for the assessment of spatial  capacity on the social dimension, showed that the central corridor segments CS03-CS07 have a  consolidated waterfront, followed by the neighbouring segments CS02 and CS08 with medium values  TOC 168 Integrated Urban River Corridors and the end segments CS01 and CS09 with low values. Open space coverage (B.2.3.1a), the indicator  selected in the ecological dimension, gave medium (CS01, CS03-CS06) and high (CS02, CS07-CS09)  values. FIGURE 6.5  Summary of spatial capacity assessment. Overall, as summarised in Figure 6.5, indicators of spatial capacity on the social side gave considerably  higher values than the ones on the ecological side. The strong urban character and central location of URC Dâmbovița affords a higher spatial diversity on the social dimension than on the ecological  dimension. For the same reason, social spatial quality is higher, with at least one point on the  assessment scale, than ecological spatial quality. Even though crampedness is signalled as a key issue  if River Dâmbovița, there is unused spatial capacity available along the entire corridor. In this case,  abundance alternates on the two dimensions, with high social capacity in central segments and high  ecological capacity in end segments. Ecological spatial capacity scored especially low in central segments due to low biodiversity and a  high level of disturbance of natural dynamics. In terms of spatial composition, ecological values were  considerably higher, as the indicator of open space coverage (B.2.3.1a) took into consideration open  spaces found in the whole corridor segment, regardless of their ecological value. § 6.3.3 Social-ecological integration In the assessment of connectivity and spatial capacity, some indications have been given regarding  combinations of indicators of connectivity and spatial capacity for attaining potentials of either  ecological or social kind. Yet, as the final goal of the framework is the assessment of social-ecological  integration, the results were aggregated and re-arranged into social and ecological categories (Table  6.2). To that end, minimum values were used for the aggregation of individual indicators to the level  of the six sub-categories of the indicator system. These aggregated values, equally distributed in the  social and ecological categories, were used for the assessment of social-ecological integration on  segment scale and on corridor scale. TOC 169 Social-ecological integration TABLE 6.2  The results of the assessment carried out with the indicators of connectivity and spatial capacity on the standardized three-point scale and  aggregated values (the minimum value in each category) used for the assessment of social-ecological integration. The complete results with absolute  values for each indicator can be found in Appendix E.  Corridor segment CONNECTIVITY SPATIAL CAPACITY Social Ecological Social Ecological A.1.1.1a A.1.1.1b A.1.2.1a A.1.2.1c A.1.2.3a A.1.2.3b A.1.3.1a A.2.1.1a A.2.2.1 A.2.2.3 A.2.3.1 B.1.1.1a B.1.2.1a B.1.3.2a B.2.1.1a B.2.2.4 B.2.3.1a CS01 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 1 1 3 1 2 1 2 CS02 1 1 2 3 2 3 1 2 1 1 1 2 2 2 1 1 3 CS03 2 2 2 3 2 3 1 3 2 1 1 2 2 3 1 1 2 CS04 3 3 3 3 2 3 1 3 2 2 1 2 2 3 1 1 2 CS05 2 1 3 3 2 3 2 2 2 2 1 2 2 3 1 1 2 CS06 1 1 2 3 2 3 1 3 1 1 1 3 2 3 1 1 2 CS07 1 1 2 2 2 3 1 3 1 1 1 2 2 3 1 1 3 CS08 1 1 1 3 2 3 1 3 2 1 1 1 2 2 2 1 3 CS09 1 1 1 1 1 3 1 3 3 1 1 1 2 1 2 1 3 Corridor segment AGGREGATION METHOD: MINIMUM Social Ecological A.1.1 A.1.2 A.1.3 B.1.1 B.1.2 B.1.3 A.2.1 A.2.2 A.2.3 B.2.1 B.2.2 B.2.3 CS01 1 1 1 1 3 1 1 2 1 2 1 2 CS02 1 2 1 2 2 2 2 1 1 1 1 3 CS03 2 2 1 2 2 3 3 1 1 1 1 2 CS04 3 2 1 2 2 3 3 2 1 1 1 2 CS05 1 2 2 2 2 3 2 2 1 1 1 2 CS06 1 2 1 3 2 3 3 1 1 1 1 2 CS07 1 2 1 2 2 3 3 1 1 1 1 3 CS08 1 1 1 1 2 2 3 1 1 2 1 3 CS09 1 1 1 1 2 1 3 1 1 2 1 3 Segment-scale assessment The first stage of the assessment of social-ecological integration is carried out on the scale of a corridor  segment, where the social and ecological categories of both connectivity and spatial capacity are  confronted in a mirrored assessment chart. The assessment chart, illustrated in Figure 6.6 for corridor  segment CS03, is applied as follows: – The lowest values are mirrored, i.e. the minimum value from each of the six sub-categories are  assigned as the mirrored scores of social-ecological integration; – When the scores on the two sides are asymmetric, fields which can potentially balance and increase  the score in that category are marked with a ‘+’; – Further improvements made to any of the other scores are subject to negotiation and prioritisation  between social and ecological goals determined by factors that were not included in the assessment. TOC 170 Integrated Urban River Corridors Figure 6.6 The assessment of social-ecological integration for segment CS03: category-level assessment (left); social-ecological integration assessment (right). Potentials for integration are marked with a coloured ‘+’ or a grey ‘+’, representing potentials above the minimum desirable goal. In this assessment, the balance between the two sides of the chart is a minimum desirable goal. Accordingly, if CS03 shown in Figure 6.6 has an actual mirrored score of 8 (out of a maximum possible of 18), it can be potentially increased to 13 if improvements are made in the fields marked with a coloured ‘+’. However, this is a guiding score and the minimum desirable goal can be exceeded, so potentials for social-ecological integration may be found in other fields as well, marked in Figure 6.6 with a grey ‘+’. For instance, as mentioned above, the transformation of the concrete banks of the river into a soft edge may increase both social and ecological vertical connectivity. Also, an intervention marked as potential in the social-ecological integration assessment chart might not be possible to be carried out due to planning, financial or ownership constraints, which are outside the scope of this assessment. Hence, the results given by this method of assessment must be complemented with an overview of planning constraints, on the one hand, and with urban and landscape design explorations that may shed light on uncharted possibilities, on the other. Corridor-scale assessment When put together, the results of all segments can be compared (Figure 6.7) and an actual and potential social-ecological integration profile for URC Dâmbovița can be formulated. As shown in Figure 6.7, most river segments concentrate high values along the axes of spatial capacity. Especially in central segments, improvement of ecological spatial capacity can increase social-ecological integration. Connectivity values are less prominent, with little potential for improvement in central segments and slightly higher potentials in peripheral segments. In terms of total score, CS06 has the highest actual and potential integration, followed by central segments CS03, CS04 and CS07 with identical profiles and CS06, and gradually decreasing towards the end segments CS08, CS09, CS02 and CS01. TOC 171 Social-ecological integration FIGURE 6.7  Comparison of the actual (grey fill) and potential (dotted outline) social-ecological integration of the nine corridor segments and the  emerging typology of potential social-ecological integration. The segment profiles illustrated in Figure 6.7 can be used as a visual aid for planning and design  decisions (e.g. in a decision support system). The gap between the actual and potential profiles  can provide a quick overview of where action is needed for achieving the minimum desirable goal.  Imbalances between the social and ecological side, as well as differences between connectivity and  spatial capacity (values on the two diagonals of the diagram) can be easily identified. In Figure 6.7, similar potential social-ecological integration profiles emerge from the mirrored  segment-scale assessment. While the profile of CS01 is different, the rest of the corridor segments  are either similar or recurring. Except for a difference in vertical connectivity, CS02 and CS05 have  a similar profile. The profile with the highest occurrence is found in CS03, CS04, CS07 and, with a  TOC 172 Integrated Urban River Corridors slight difference in the social side of spatial diversity, in CS06. In a similar way, CS08 and CS09 are  only distinct from CS03, CS04 and CS07 by a lower potential lateral connectivity. Such a comparative  assessment, even though illustrative in this case, can inform planning and design decisions aiming for  increased social-ecological integration on corridors scale. Although the actual scores are distinctive for each corridor segment, and therefore can mainly inform segment-scale decisions, the mirrored scores  can help in devising actions that can be replicated in segments of the same type along the URC. § 6.4 URC Colentina—wider application In addition to the assessment of URC Dâmbovița, URC Colentina is presented here to illustrate the  application of the assessment framework to another URC. As most indicators are relative to the URC  that they measure, a full inter-corridor assessment cannot be attained. Also, the validation—i.e. a  systematic comparison with another case in order to establish wider applicability—or the calibration— i.e. the adjustment of reference or target values in the light of measurements taken on a different  case—are outside the scope of this thesis. Instead, two indicators are given as examples from the  selection made for URC Colentina (Table 6.3): one that is the same as in the case of URC Dâmbovița  (A.1.2.1a Accessibility - network) and one that is specific to URC Colentina (B.2.3.1b Coverage - % of  green space). In addition, these two indicators were chosen in such a way that, on the one hand, the  categories of both connectivity and spatial capacity are represented, and, on the other hand, one is of  social and the other is of ecological kind. N CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS07CS06 CS08 CS10 CS11CS09 FIGURE 6.8  The delineation of URC Colentina and its segments. Delineated according to the method presented in Chapter 2, URC Colentina comprises 11 corridor  segments (Figure 6.8). The boundary of URC Colentina determined this way is less regular than the  boundary of URC Dâmbovița. This is due to the fact that, given its peripheral location, River Colentina  is surrounded by a more heterogeneous and less consolidated urban fabric than River Dâmbovița,  and that it is mainly crossed, rather than followed in parallel, by major traffic corridors.  Another  notable difference from URC Dâmbovița is that the succession of artificial lakes and recreational  corridor of River Colentina, as conceived initially in the 1930s (see Section 3.3.2), extend beyond the  administrative boundaries of Bucharest. However, for the purposes of this demonstration and to keep  the assessment within the urban area, the segments surrounding Lakes Buftea, Mogoșoaia and Chitila  (upstream from CS01) and Lake Cernica (downstream from CS11), located outside the administrative  boundaries of Bucharest, were not included in the delineation. TOC 173  URC Colentina—wider application PROBLEMS POTENTIALS SELECTED INDICATORS Connectivity Longitudinal Social The privatisation of the lakeshores led to  a discontinuous service area and spatial fragmentation along the corridor. It could become an axis of urban develop- ment and a continuous lakeside public  space. A.1.1.2a Pedestrian network – continuity A.1.1.2b Pedestrian network – % A.1.1.2c Pedestrian network – location Ecological Water flow is reduced. It could become a green corridor. A.2.1.1a Landscape connectivity -  existing A.2.1.1b Landscape connectivity – poten- tial Lateral Social It is perceived as a physical barrier and  the lakeshores are inaccessible. It could become a balancing structure for  local communities and intercommunal  collaboration. A.1.2.1a Accessibility – network A.1.2.1b Accessibility – residents A.1.2.1c Accessibility – visitors A.1.2.3a Crossability - count A.1.2.3b Crossability – linear density of  crossings Ecological It can benefit from a good connectivity  with the surrounding landscape. A.2.2.1 Presence of transversal corridors Vertical Social Banks are undesigned and riverside  structures are deteriorated. The water surface offers more possibili- ties for use, such as swimming. A.1.3.1a Contact with water – points of  contact A.1.3.1a Contact with water – typology A.1.3.2 Contact with water – swimming Ecological There is a lack of gradients between land  and aquatic ecosystems. A.2.3.1 Presence of ecotones Spatial capacity Diversity Social Extreme social contrasts It could become an axis of urban develop- ment / an economic attractor / sports /  diversity B.1.1.1a Diversity of uses – richness B.1.1.1b Diversity of uses – dominance Ecological Spontaneous vegetation It is and could be enforced as an import- ant source of ecology and biodiversity. B.2.1.1 Biodiversity – presence of spe- cies-rich areas Quality Social Spatial fragmentation Flood risk B.1.2.1a Visual permeability - % visible  river space Ecological Artificial nature B.2.2.4 Respect of natural dynamics Composition Social Public space for consumption Space for recreation B.1.3.1 Intensity of construction Ecological Artificial nature Abundance of open space / green lung /  microclimate regulation B.2.3.1a Coverage - % open space B.2.3.1b Coverage - % green space B.2.3.1c Coverage - % TIA TABLE 6.3  Indicators selected for URC Colentina, corresponding to the main problems and potentials identified by local experts (see Chapter 4 for a  detailed analysis of the experts' opinions and Appendix D for a full list of problems and potentials incorporated in this table). Indicators highlighted  with green are used for demonstration in this section. Network accessibility (A.1.2.1a) of the paths along the lakes of URC Colentina is predominantly low,  with the exception of CS04, where Lake and Park Herăstrău represent the most attractive location  along the corridor, and CS07, where the historical neighbourhood and Monastery of Plumbuita are  located. These findings can be correlated with the observation by most experts that Park Herăstrău  concentrates most recreational activities in the corridor (Section 4.4.3), and with the location of  Plumbuita (one of the riverside historical villages encapsulated by the city) along one of the generative  TOC 174 Integrated Urban River Corridors radials of the city (Section 3.3.2). The network accessibility profile of URC Colentina shown in Figure  6.9 (bottom right) is less regular than in the case of URC Dâmbovița (see Appendix E). This difference  may be ascribed to the more peripheral location of URC Colentina. While URC Dâmbovița concentrates  longitudinal flows running through the centre, and thus having a more distributed accessibility profile,  the lakes are rather crossed laterally by traffic radials connecting the city centre with territories in  the north, creating points of high accessibility at the junction between the radials and the riverside  path network. Indicator A.1.2.1a of lateral connectivity gives significant results and clearly shows the  difference between the two URCs (see values for URC Dâmbovița in Table 6.2). CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 CS10 CS11 CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km 0 500m Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 100 80 60 40 20 0 CS01 1 1 1 1 1 2 2 1 1 1 1 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 CS10 CS11 City Low local integration Medium local integration High local integration FIGURE 6.9  Network accessibility (A.1.2.1a) along URC Colentina with a detail of CS04, in which Lake and Park Herăstrău are located. TOC 175  URC Colentina—wider application To further shed light on potentials that can be found in the path networks running along the river,  indicators of the pedestrian network on the longitudinal dimension (A.1.1.2a-c), as well as indicators  of contact with water (A.1.3.1a-c) on the vertical dimension, can be combined with the results  given by this indicator. Furthermore, the presence of transversal corridors (A.2.2.1) can determine  potentials for social-ecological integration through lateral connectivity. CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 CS10 CS11 CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km 0 500m Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 50 40 30 20 10 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 CS10 CS11 Green space coverage 16% 42% 33% 32% 29% 29% 30% 27% 22% 26% 28% 40% 20% FIGURE 6.10  Green space coverage (B.2.3.1b) along URC Colentina, with a detail of corridor segment CS04, in which Lake and Park Herăstrău are  located (highest coverage in the URC), and CS08, the corridor segment of Lake Fundeni (lowest coverage). Pointed out by most experts in Chapter 4 is the distinctive potential of URC Colentina to become a  green corridor. Accordingly, green space coverage (B.2.3.1b), used here for the illustration of ecological  spatial capacity, is an indicator of spatial composition that is specific to URC Colentina. As shown in  TOC 176 Integrated Urban River Corridors Figure 6.10, results indicate medium coverage in most corridor segments, except CS04 with a high  score (42% of the total area of the segment) and CS08 with a low score (16%). Like in the case of  network accessibility, Park Herăstrău has a high score, as it was designated and has remained one of  the largest parks of the city ever since the transformation of River Colentina started in the 1930s.  Further knowledge of biodiversity (B.2.1.1) and respect of natural dynamics (B.2.2.4) can help in  identifying potentials of ecological spatial capacity in URC Colentina. Also, results from the other  indicators of coverage (B.2.3.1a and B.2.3.1c) can provide insights on potentials for increased  green space coverage in non-vegetated urban spaces, such as brownfields and convertible  impervious spaces. § 6.5 Discussion Apart from the results, a critical reflection on the process of the assessment is necessary to identify  the strengths and weaknesses of the methodology and to frame the quality of the results. Moreover,  assessment must be positioned in the overall planning and design process in order to identify  conflicts or synergies with other ways of approaching social-ecological integration, such as the design  explorations presented in Part 3 of this thesis. One of the critical aspects of this assessment framework is the way social and ecological indicators are  aggregated. It may be argued that mirroring, as shown in Figure 6.6, might not produce meaningful  results, as the selections of indicators from the two sides might not be comparable or related. Also,  using the minimum value for aggregation might lead to under-evaluation. These challenges were met  with the balanced logic of the minimum desirable goal, that is, the inclusion of both the actual and potential situation in the assessment. That is, the aggregation method using minimum values in the  first step (aggregation of indicator results into social and ecological sub-categories) and in the second  step (mirrored minimum values) is balanced by the identification of potential areas of intervention.  This balanced logic, similar to the problem-potential approach used in the analysis of expert  interviews carried out in Chapter 4, is also useful in identifying similarities between corridor segments  in the third step of the assessment on corridor scale. Although inter-corridor (comparative) assessment could not be attained in this research, as it would  require further validation and calibration with other URCs, the similarities in potential corridor  segment profiles identified in the corridor-scale assessment may be developed into a generalizable  method of assessment. If similar potential social-ecological integration profiles can be observed and  correlated across different URCs, a cross-case typology may be developed. The equal weighing and aggregation of the indicators in the six sub-categories of connectivity and  spatial capacity also raises questions regarding the validity of the results. The purpose of this chapter  was to illustrate the use of the assessment framework, rather than to provide advice for planning.  Hence, for real-world application, this assessment framework needs to be calibrated, i.e. case-specific  weights, benchmarks and parameters must be developed with empirical evidence. Nevertheless, given  the complexity of factors influencing the current state of URCs, as seen in Chapter 4, the assessment  framework put forward in this chapter can provide useful insights into potentials in early stages of the  planning and design process. TOC 177 Conclusion Finally, a considerable issue is that the method of social-ecological assessment presented here is not  spatially explicit. The potentials for social-ecological integration are virtual, based on the mirroring  logic of the minimum desirable goal. Whether the potentials highlighted here are possible, depends  on spatial conditions in the URC. Therefore, spatial synergies must be sought in the design and  planning process to further identify potentials for integration. § 6.6 Conclusion Throughout this chapter, the framework for the assessment of social-ecological integration in URCs  introduced in Chapter 5 was applied on the URCs of Bucharest. For both URCs, a number of indicators  were selected based on a set of criteria: representativeness, according to which each sub-category of  the assessment framework is represented by at least one indicator; case-specificity, attained by using  the statements on problems and potentials given by local experts in Chapter 4; application-specificity, by including indicators of potential, in order to inform subsequent planning and design decisions; as  well as data availability and implementation constraints. A full assessment was carried out on URC Dâmbovița and results of the actual situation and potentials  for improvement were summarized for all indicators of connectivity and spatial capacity. Segment- scale assessment combined the results from the assessment of connectivity and spatial capacity in  a mirrored assessment chart. With this method, a general assessment of the current state of social- ecological integration and potentials for improvement could be identified. In a subsequent step,  corridor-scale assessment compared the segment-scale results and identified similar profiles of potential social-ecological integration that can inform planning and design actions that are replicable  or have an impact on the whole corridor. Finally, URC Colentina was used to illustrate the application of the assessment framework on a  different case. One indicator (A.1.2.1 Accessibility - network) was selected to show variations of the  same indicator across the two cases and another (B.2.3.1b Coverage - % green space) was presented  as a case-specific indicator to illustrate the adaptability of the indicator system to specific URC  conditions. As an assessment carried out this way may not provide a complete picture of the spatial problems and  potentials found in a particular URC, it must be combined with knowledge on planning constraints  and design explorations. Based on these challenges and the results of the assessment, but also  informed by the projects, meaningful places, and proposals collected from the interviews in Chapter  4, a number of design questions become apparent: How can the artificial nature of the two rivers  be overcome? How can the connectivity of the two rivers be improved? How can the development  dynamics of the two rivers be accommodated spatially? How can the open spaces and connections of  the social and ecological systems of Bucharest be spatially integrated? How can the scalar qualities of  the two URCs be improved? Part 3 of the thesis will attempt to respond to these questions, and, as a  result, to advance the current state of knowledge described in Chapter 4 and supplemented with the  assessment in this chapter with future possibilities of development in the two URCs. TOC 178 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 179 Design PART 3 Design This part includes two chapters: Chapter 7   Design Principles for Integrated Urban River Corridors Chapter 8   Applying the Principles through Design Instruments TOC 180 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 181  Design Principles for Integrated Urban River Corridors 7 Design Principles for Integrated  Urban River Corridors § 7.1 Introduction Distilled from practical experience and refined by theory, a principle is a “fundamental truth  or proposition that serves as the foundation for a system of belief or behaviour or for a chain of  reasoning” (Principle, n.d.). As such, principles are essential for guiding thought or action and for  facilitating the transfer of knowledge across disciplines. Because they involve a judgement of what  or how something should be, they are employed here to shift the descriptive/analytical perspective  of the previous two parts of the thesis to a normative one. This shift is needed as urban design is,  in substance (and in addition to its use of description), a normative activity that often makes use  of principles to transfer knowledge of a given urban phenomenon to the design process. To that  end, this chapter sets out to translate the four properties of URCs introduced in Chapter 2, namely  connectivity, open space amenity, integration, and multiscalarity, into corresponding design principles:  Interconnectedness, Absorptive Capacity, Social-Ecological Integration, and Interscalarity. The main body of the chapter is organised in three sections. Prior to the introduction of the  principles, Section 7.2 establishes the disciplinary context in which design is referred to, starting  from sustainable urbanism, through green-, landscape- and ecological urbanism, to the more  recent approach of social-ecological urbanism, all of which have in common an emerging ecological  rationality enriching the traditional spatial and social discourse of urban design. In Section 7.3, each  principle is defined and founded on concepts from urban and landscape design theory. In addition,  Boxes 7.1-7.4 illustrate the development of the principles with four river projects, which were carried  out by the author as design explorations in parallel to the research process. Finally, Section 7.4  discusses challenges and opportunities arising from the use of the design principles. SUB-QUESTION AND OBJECTIVES: Sub-question 7: How can the design of URCs be guided towards social-ecological integration? Objective 7.1: Formulate design principles of social-ecologically integrated URCs. Section 7.3 Objective 7.2: Explore URCs through design. Boxes 7.1-7.4 TOC 182 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 7.2 Social-ecological urban design As indicated in Section 1.1, urban design is an activity that is situated in place and time and whose  underlying values are directed by socio-cultural and environmental dynamics. That being so, before  any attempt to formulate urban design principles, one must understand urban design as an integrative  activity (Sternberg, 2000) and urbanism as a field of knowledge that is contingent on changing urban  conditions (e.g. Lynch, 2007). Urban design is commonly defined as “the process of making better places for people than would  otherwise be produced [and it is] primarily concerned with shaping urban space as a means to  make, or re-make, the ‘public’ places that people can use and enjoy” (Carmona, Heath, Oc, & Steve,  2010, p. 3). Rather than “an exclusive professional territory”, it is considered to be “the interface  between architecture, landscape architecture and town planning, drawing on the design tradition of architecture and landscape architecture, and the environmental management and social science  tradition of contemporary planning” (Carmona et al., 2010, p. 4). Although urban design is an  integrative practice (Khan et al., 2014; Sternberg, 2000) combining the morphological, perceptual,  social, visual, functional, and temporal dimensions of the design process (Carmona et al., 2010),  the ecological dimension is still poorly represented in urban design (Pickett, Cadenasso, & McGrath,  2013). The current urban condition, characterised by escalating environmental challenges, growing social  inequalities and increased interconnectedness, has prompted repeated attempts to redefine urbanism  and its fundamental orientations. Those attempts include: sustainable urbanism (Burton, Jenks, &  Williams, 2004, 2013; Farr, 2007; Jenks & Jones, 2010), concerned with compact and dense forms  of urban development, integrated transportation and land use, sustainable neighbourhood-scale  development, environmental benefits of human-nature linkages, and building- and district-level  energy efficiency; green urbanism (Beatley, 2000) as a more resource-efficient and community- based practice; landscape urbanism (Waldheim, 2006, 2016), in which the emphasis is shifted from  the built environment to the larger landscape; ecological urbanism (Mostafavi & Doherty, 2010)  combining social inclusiveness and environmental sensitivity in a holistic approach; and, more  recently, social-ecological urbanism (Barthel et al., 2013; Erixon Aalto et al., 2018), putting further  emphasis on adaptation and resilience by integrating ecosystem services in urban planning and design  and by seeking synergies between the ecological and social systems. These different interpretations  of urbanism represent the evolution and emergence of an underlying ecological rationality (Viganò,  2013), which complements traditional urbanism’s core interest in the physiognomy of the city with a  systemic and integrated understanding of space occupied by both people and ecosystems. Informed by social-ecological systems and social-ecological resilience theory (discussed in Section  1.3.1), social-ecological urbanism provides a conceptual framework which can potentially lead to a  more integrative urban design practice (e.g. Barthel et al., 2013; Erixon Aalto, Marcus, & Torsvall,  2018). In addition, the spatial-morphological approach (Section 1.3.3) is built upon an elemental  understanding of urban space that is useful for a social-ecological description of urban space. Hillier  (2007), one of the principal proponents of this elemental spatial approach, refers to occupied space, i.e. the (built or un-built) space of activities that are mainly static or where movement is localised  within the occupied space, in contrast to the space for movement, which is shaped by movement  between occupied spaces or in and out of an occupied space. In a spatial-morphological approach, the  focus is on the space of movement, which comprises the space of vehicular movement and the space  of pedestrian movement, i.e. public space. The 18th c. Nolli map (Figure 7.1) is a classic example of a  figure-ground representation in which public space, including outdoor and indoor spaces, is revealed.  TOC 183 Social-ecological urban design This map is especially representative for the space of pedestrian movement, as it predates the  appearance of routes designed for fast vehicular movement and, thus, it is completely shaped by and  accessible to pedestrian movement. FIGURE 7.1  Public space, as depicted in a detail of the 1748 map of Rome made by Giambattista Nolli. Source: Wikimedia Commons. Although hardly visible in the Nolli map, another space of movement exists in the city, ecological space, as described in landscape ecology.65 As shown in Figure 7.2, ecological space overlaps public space (e.g. parks, public gardens, rows of trees), occupied space (e.g. private gardens, green roofs), but  also undefined spaces (see Section 7.3.2 for a detailed definition). The loose superposition between  the space of movement, including public space and ecological space, is the ground upon which  social-ecological urbanism operates. By not being ingrained in categorical descriptions of urban space,  the inclusive description of the spatial-morphological approach provides an open ground for the  understanding of and design for social-ecological integration. 65  Although a solely spatial definition of ecosystems is partial, as ecological space in ecology “is more defined by function than by  physical dimension or magnitude” (Hayward, 2013, p.2), it is nevertheless useful in transferring knowledge of ecology to urban and  landscape design (e.g. Dramstad et al., 1996). TOC 184 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 7.2  Ecological space, as shown in The Woodlands, Texas, USA, an ecologically designed community development plan based on Ian McHarg’s  design-with-nature concept. Source: Wallace et al., 1974, cited in Yang, Li, & Li, 2013. § 7.3 Principles of urban river corridor design A brief review of general urban design principles, summarised in Table 7.1, shows a possible  alignment with the URC properties identified in Chapter 2, and hints to their potential translation  into URC design principles. As shown in Table 7.1 under the theme of connectivity, urban design is  concerned with improving the spatial conditions for walking, cycling, public transport and vehicular  traffic (in this order of priority) (Llewelyn-Davies & Alan Baxter & Associates, 2007), increased spatial  permeability (Bentley, Alcock, Murrain, McGlynn, & Smith, 1985) and access to key destinations  (Llewelyn-Davies & Alan Baxter & Associates, 2007). Open space amenity is related to urban design  issues such as spatial redundancy (Hassler & Kohler, 2014), diversity and mix of uses (Bentley et  al., 1985), and local identity (DETR & CABE, 2000). The combination of dense urban form with the  provision of green infrastructure (Benedict & McMahon, 2006), as well as a recent interest in design  for ecosystem services through green and blue infrastructure (GBI) solutions (e.g. Perini & Sabbion,  2017), are two examples of principles that contribute to integration. Finally, multiscalarity is a general  principle in urban design, an activity which typically bridges spatial and temporal scales (Carmona  et al., 2010). While urban design focuses on the scale of the neighbourhood (Farr, 2007) or public  space (Tibbalds, 2007), landscape design addresses a wider range of scales from regional green  infrastructure networks to localised site-scale interventions (Baschak & Brown, 1995). TOC 185  Principles of urban river corridor design TABLE 7.1  Summary of principles found in urban and landscape design literature that are related to the four key properties of URCs identified in  Chapter 2. Principles that are specific to river- or waterside urban design, already described in Section 2.2, are included in a distinct category under  each property. URC PROPERTY URBAN AND LANDSCAPE DESIGN PRINCIPLES Connectivity Ensure connections suitable for walking, cycling, public transport and cars, in this order of priority. (Llewelyn-Da- vies & Alan Baxter & Associates, 2007) Increase the spatial permeability of the urban environment to maximise ease of movement and choice of access  through it available to users. (Bentley et al., 1985; DETR & CABE, 2000) Provide access to key amenities and facilities, such as parks and schools, within walking distance. (Llewelyn-Davies  & Alan Baxter & Associates, 2007) Design in the URC Accommodate temporary flow fluctuations, that is, the vertical and lateral movement of water, and long-term morphodynamic processes of sedimentation, erosion and channel migration in the design of the river space. (Prominski et al., 2017) Open space amenity Design for diversity/mix/variety/hybridity of uses, users, building types, and public spaces (e.g. Bentley et al.,  1985) Provide spatial and functional redundancy to account for flexible and unpredictable development dynamics (e.g.  Hassler & Kohler, 2014) Ensure continuity of street frontages and the enclosure of open space by development to differentiate public and  private space. (DETR & CABE, 2000) Consider the porosity of urban space, that is, a distributed and balanced configuration of open spaces in relation to  built-up space. (Ellin, 2006; Viganò, 2009a) Consider the identity and character of the place when designing for vibrant and liveable public spaces. (DETR &  CABE, 2000) Design in the URC Adapt and reuse existing built form and increase public access in the waterfront to increase spatial quality and to  overcome physical and mental barriers inherited from former (industrial) land uses. (Gordon, 1996) Provide open space amenity in waterfront development. (Stevens, 2009) Integration Achieve density and compactness, while preserving open spaces, which have an integral role in the provision of green infrastructure. (Beatley, 2000; Benedict & McMahon, 2006) Integrate nature in the urban environment for a positive psychological impact on people. (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989) Design with landscape elements, such as topography, vegetation and climate, to integrate ecology and human  activities. (Manning, 1997) Use hybridity and connectivity as means to establish a symbiotic relationship between people and nature, and between buildings and landscape. (Ellin, 2006) Integrate green infrastructure (GI) to maximise the combined social and ecological benefits of urban green spaces.  (Ahern, 2007; Kambites & Owen, 2006) Design in the URC Integrate the waterfront with the city’s networks of public and green spaces (Samant & Brears, 2017). Integrate waterfront development plans with urban water management plans (Samant & Brears, 2017). Integrate vegetated and non-vegetated green-blue infrastructure (GBI) solutions to improve environmental (e.g.  micro- and meso-climate regulation), social (e.g. recreation) and ecological (e.g. biodiversity) conditions in the  city. (Perini & Sabbion, 2017) Protect streams and wetlands, and store, clean, and recycle storm water runoff (by employing, for instance, princi- ples of water-sensitive urban design) for both ecological and social uses. (Hoyer, Dickhaut, Kronawitter, & Weber,  2011) Preserve structural gradients between areas of extensive and intensive anthropic pressure, just like ecotones in  ecology, in order to maximise diversity. (Manning, 1997) Design river crossings as points of high accessibility and intense (physical and visual) interaction between the city  and water, while “allowing circulation along the river to continue uninterrupted.” (Manning, 1997, p. 81) >>> TOC 186 Integrated Urban River Corridors TABLE 7.1  Summary of principles found in urban and landscape design literature that are related to the four key properties of URCs identified in  Chapter 2. Principles that are specific to river- or waterside urban design, already described in Section 2.2, are included in a distinct category under  each property. URC PROPERTY URBAN AND LANDSCAPE DESIGN PRINCIPLES Multiscalarity Consider three categories of scales in urban design: (1) the region: metropolis, city and town; (2) the neighbour- hood, the district and the corridor; and (3) the block, the street and the building. (CNU & Talen, 2013) Design at and across multiple scales, that is, considering scales below and above, in order to deal with “places as  vertically integrated ‘wholes’”. (e.g. Carmona, Heath, Oc, & Steve, 2010, p. 6) Plan for human habitability at regional scale. (MacKaye, 1940) Nurture the neighbourhood scale by providing local facilities, mixed use and walkability. (Farr, 2007) Design on human scale: “concentrate on attractive, intricate places related to the scale of people walking, not  driving” (Tibbalds, 2007, p. 9) Understand past urban dynamics to build lasting environments (Tibbalds, 1992) Design for change to build flexibility to future demographic, economic and lifestyle changes. (Llewelyn-Davies &  Alan Baxter & Associates, 2007) Design in the URC Consider a hierarchy of site (a single habitat or community), local (a series of habitats or communities) and region (a large geographic region) in the landscape design of urban river corridors. (Baschak & Brown, 1995) Understand the river at catchment scale regardless of the scale of intervention. (Ingaramo & Voghera, 2016) Along general urban design principles, Table 7.1 includes design principles specific to river- or  waterside urban transformation. These principles, described in more detail in Section 2.2, extend  urban design goals with considerations of river restoration and hydrological connectivity addressed  in river space design (Prominski et al., 2017), perceptual and economic aspects in waterfront  redevelopment (Gordon, 1996; Stevens, 2009), potentials of integration offered by green and blue  infrastructure (GBI) solutions (Perini & Sabbion, 2017) and by key landscape interventions (Manning,  1997), considerations of scalar hierarchies in landscape design (Baschak & Brown, 1995), and the  influence of catchment-scale conditions on urban and landscape design (Ingaramo & Voghera, 2016).  Overall, however, the urban design principles summarised in Table 7.1 do not offer a comprehensive  set of guidelines that are directly applicable to the design of URCs as defined in Chapter 2. The  following sections put the four groups of principles presented in Table 7.1 under closer scrutiny and  aim to distil a set of urban design principles addressing the goals of social-ecologically integrated  URCs. § 7.3.1 Configuring connections In Section 2.2.6, connectivity was defined as a key property of URCs that can offer an integrated  three-dimensional—that is, longitudinal, lateral and vertical—description of how people, plants  and animals,66 and water move along, towards/across, and within urban rivers. As part of the  assessment framework developed in Chapter 5, this three-dimensional framework was used to devise  and categorise indicators of connectivity (e.g. the accessibility of the river space indicated by the  percentage of riverside paths that can be reached by pedestrians from public transport stops within a  500 m walking distance) and, as such, to provide an evidence base for planning and design decisions.  66  In a representation of urban space as a complex social-ecological system (SES), two types of behavioral entities are considered:  ‘people’ as social actors, and ‘plants and animals’ as ecosystem agents (Rounsevell, Robinson, & Murray-Rust, 2012). TOC 187  Configuring connections In addition to information obtained from assessment, design principles can offer workable guidelines  for the design of connectivity elements in URCs. By and large, urban design principles (Table 7.1)  address the topic of connectivity by prioritising connections for slow mobility and public transport over  individual vehicular transport, by emphasizing the permeability of the urban fabric and by improving  access to key amenities and facilities. Urban river design principles, such as the one mentioned in  Table 7.1, offer extensive guidelines for the design of the edge between urban space and water, with  emphasis on lateral and vertical connectivity in the river space. However, neither of these sets of  principles address the design of connectivity in the URC, and therefore this subject requires a further  analysis of the particularities of URC networks. The networks of URCs In dealing with the spatial interaction of social and ecological systems at large, one must understand  the underlying networks of the urban environment in question, including their elements at multiple  scales and their spatial configuration, i.e. the way those elements are assembled. There are a number  of interpretations in the descriptions of spatial networks in the urban environment, out of which  notable examples include: the network models of urban space as a representation of inherent  hierarchies of pedestrian movement offered by Space Syntax theory (Hillier & Hanson, 1989),  metaphors of traffic networks determined by slow and fast movement (the ‘sponge’ and ‘pipes’ of  Viganò, Fabian, & Secchi, 2016), the integration of the traffic- and water networks in the guiding  model of the Strategy of the Two Networks of Sybrand Tjallingii (2005, 2015), and descriptions of the  ecological network in terms of corridors, stepping stones (Forman, 1995) and gradients (de Jong, de  Vries, Tjallingii, Duijvestein, & Sijmons, 2015). Notable examples of traffic network descriptions in urbanism are Hillier’s (2012) dominant  ‘foreground’ network characterised by route continuity and the more localised ‘background’ network  characterised by shorter lines and less continuity, Read’s (2013) ‘supergrid’ of major urban streets  contrasted with the regular grid of urban blocks, and Marshall’s (2005) description of road hierarchy  ranging from ‘primary distributors’ to ‘access roads’. One aspect that these descriptions have in  common is the concept of ‘hierarchy’ applied to the description of urban form, according to which  traffic is distributed “through a hierarchy of routes closely matched to traffic volume and purpose,  with free-flow movement at one end (e.g. a dedicated expressway) and local access at the other,  and with each level linked dendritically to the next” (Carmona et al., 2010, p. 87). More recent and  higher-level hierarchies were imposed on the traditional street  network at the outset of personal car  mobility, to separate and accommodate different speeds of vehicular movement in the city.67 As a major consequence of this transformation, the connectivity of the street network and the freedom of  pedestrian movement were diminished, especially on higher levels of the hierarchy, where unhindered  vehicular movement had to be ensured. Realising that road network hierarchies conceived this way  “segregate and fragment urban areas into enclaves”, Carmona et al. (2010, p. 90) among others68 suggest that more interconnected road networks, as a quality of traditional urban space incrementally  shaped by pedestrian movement, are necessary for integrated urban design. 67  The concept of street network hierarchy was first explicated by Ludwig Hilberseimer in 1927, in his book Groszstadt Arhitektur  (translated to English in Hilberseimer, 2012). According to Hilberseimer, road hierarchy was needed to ensure the safety for chil- dren, at the same time improving traffic flow, ensuring the penetration of landscape and settlement and securing against disasters  and crises. 68  Similarly, several urban design studies have demonstrated the effectiveness of redundant road configurations. Examples include  the so-called semi-lattices of Alexander (1965) and the grids of Martin, (1972). TOC 188 Integrated Urban River Corridors This does not mean that there is no hierarchy inherent in the way people move in urban space. An  interconnected road network configuration does not exclude hierarchy. As shown in Space Syntax  theory, pedestrian movement can be correlated with the spatial configuration of the road network  (Hillier & Hanson, 1989). Upon analysis of network characteristics such as integration and choice,69 hierarchies inherent in the configuration of the urban fabric may be revealed. However, such  hierarchies do not create barriers to pedestrian movement. Instead, they represent routes crystallised  through time, which still guide and attract pedestrian movement in a differentiated way. In addition to this description, hierarchies can be classified as flat or deep (Simon, 1996). Flat  hierarchies feature a small number of levels, with elements distributed and interacting mainly  horizontally within levels. In deep hierarchies, on the other hand, elements are distributed and  interact mainly across levels. Looking at street networks, it may be argued that there is an optimum  between these two types: too deep might create too many spatial barriers to lower levels (e.g. a tree- like network implies longer trips), while too flat might hinder movement on higher levels (e.g. a major  road with too many intersections in an interconnected road network, i.e. in which speeds of movement  are not segregated, might not allow for fast transit).  One of the urban spaces that are most contested by both vehicular and pedestrian movement is the  riverfront (Tjallingii, 2015). More often than not, major thoroughfares built during the 20th century  were placed on river embankments, resulting in barriers to pedestrian movement towards and across  the river (Figure 7.3). In turn, recent urban transformation trends (e.g. riverfront redevelopment or  reclamation projects, such as Paris Plages, Madrid Río and Île de Nantes) have shown an increasing  interest in reclaiming the riverfront as a public space belonging to pedestrians and cyclists. Besides  the traffic challenges raised by such reclamations, these trends create opportunities for urban design  and regeneration. Released from the constrain of heavy car traffic, how should the riverfront be  redesigned to encourage and accommodate social and ecological interactions? Even more than the  transformation of urban roads into ‘streets’, ‘avenues’ and ‘boulevards’ to reintegrate pedestrian  movement, urban rivers can be enforced as “connectors rather than dividers” (Carmona et al., 2010, p.  107) in a network of public and green spaces. FIGURE 7.3  High-speed road network along River Tietê in Sao Paulo. Source: 3D view from Google maps. 69  Integration is typically used as a measure of accessibility and choice is a measure of through-movement, i.e. “the probability that  a street segment falls on a randomly selected shortest path linking any pair of segments” (Space Syntax Glossary at http://otp. spacesyntax.net/glossary/. Accessed June 30, 2018) TOC 189  Configuring connections Although road network characterisations, such as the ones given by Hillier & Hanson (1989), Carmona  et al. (2010), Marshall (2005) and Read (2013), are useful for understanding the morphology of the  urban fabric in general, URCs as spaces of social-ecological interaction require a description that also  includes the water network. A potentially integrative model in this sense is Tjallingii’s (2005, 2015)  Strategy of the Two Networks (see also Section 2.2.5). In this model, the movement of people and  ecosystem agents (animals and plants) can be assigned to a 'fast lane' and a 'slow lane', structured by the traffic network and the water network, respectively (Figure 7.4). This model establishes a  synergic relationship, in which the two networks run in a reciprocally supportive spatial configuration  as carrying structures of the urban landscape. Tjallingii positions his strategy in the networks layer of  the Dutch Layer Approach  (De Hoog, Sijmons & Verschuuren, 1998, cited in van Schaick & Klaasen,  2011), as it intermediates and integrates the occupation layer, where planning decisions are typically  made, and the ground layer, where geomorphological processes can be understood in relation to the  water system. FIGURE 7.4  The Strategy of the two Networks (Tjallingii, 2005, 2015). Source: Tjallingii, 2015. Tjallingii’s Strategy of the Two Networks (2005, 2015) can be used as a basis for a three-dimensional  description of URC connectivity. His guiding model is mainly representative for longitudinal  connectivity, where there is a parallel (i.e. non-overlapping) and reciprocally supportive configuration  of the water and traffic networks. Lateral connectivity of the traffic networks, or crossability and  accessibility as referred to in Chapters 2 and 5, refers to the intersection of- and transition between  the elements of the ‘slow lane’ and the elements of the ‘fast lane’. According to Manning (1997),  crossings are places of intense interaction between people and the river and, therefore, need to be designed as contact zones, where both the river and the city are highly accessible. The intersection,  however, should be designed in such a way that it does not create barriers to longitudinal connectivity  (e.g. elevated bridge with underpasses along the river banks). The transition between fast and slow  longitudinal movement can be achieved by the distribution of major routes away and minor routes  close to the river (Manning, 1997). Vertical connectivity, included in Tjallingii’s model mainly in terms  of water storage, can also be related to social aspect such as the presence of contact zones between the river and people (Manning, 1997). TOC 190 Integrated Urban River Corridors As Viganò et al. (2016) suggest in a design study of Città Diffusa, an isotropic urban region in the  north of Italy, the structuring elements of the urbanised landscape can be conceptualised as ‘water’  and ‘asphalt’ (Figure 7.5). The former includes “natural flows, artificial ones, reclamation/irrigation  devices, and drainage systems”, while the latter comprises “the entire mobility network which is  sometimes made of asphalt roads, stone roads, dirt roads, or iron roads”70 (Viganò et al., 2016, p. 15).  The water network, described this way by Viganò et al., encompasses both geomorphologic conditions  of the river system at the scale of the catchment area and rationalisations (e.g. rectifications,  deviations) involving significant physical and ecological changes to the land. On the other hand, the  traffic network, conceptualised as ‘the asphalt’ in their description,  is composed of secondary roads  which establish an osmotic (i.e. semi-permeable) relationship with settlements and the high-capacity  infrastructure for fast, i.e. uninterrupted, vehicular movement that “establish, via operations of  specialisation and sectionalisation, new relations and hierarchies in the territory” (Viganò et al., 2016,  p. 41). FIGURE 7.5  ‘Water’ (in red) and ‘asphalt’ (in black), the main structural elements of Città Diffusa, as depicted in a detail map of Paola Viganò et al.  Source: Viganò, 2009b; Viganò et al., 2016. The isotropic configuration shown in Figure 7.5 illustrates the advantages of a less defined hierarchy,  a feature which is otherwise difficult to observe in compact urban forms. If separated from its function  of accommodating vehicular movement, the road network can be interpreted as a non-hierarchically  defined network, a field of possibilities for pedestrian movement in which hierarchy manifests as  a self-organised structure. Also, the non-opposing nature of the relationship between city and  countryside, visible in Tjallingii’s model (2005, 2015) and in the conceptualisation of Viganò et al.  (2016), can help in formulating and transferring spatial models capable of establishing synergies  between ecological and social objectives in densely built urban areas. 70  In other investigations, Viganò (2009b) presented ‘iron’ as a separate category, relevant especially in the case of post-industrial  landscapes in which the rail infrastructure plays an important role. TOC 191  Configuring connections The water and traffic networks as carrying structures engender a third type of network, with a specific  spatial configuration: the ecological network. The presence of water and the geomorphological  conditions of the river system tend to generate linear patterns of vegetated land cover across the  landscape, while traffic networks tend to fragment the landscape into separated habitat patches  (Forman, 1995). Corresponding to these two spatial patterns, the elements of the landscape that  contribute to ecological connectivity are called corridors and stepping stones, respectively (Dramstad  et al., 1996). Corridors, often running along waterways or roads, create spatial continuities in the  ecological network, acting as links or barriers for wildlife movement between habitat patches. For  instance, power line corridors, road corridors or canals may act as barriers, while streams and river  systems are important corridors for wildlife migration. When spatially segregated, i.e. not connected  by corridors, habitat patches can act as stepping stones for wildlife movement. Different from  corridors, they form networks defined by spatial proximity, not by spatial continuity. This means  that any pair of individual patches (nodes in the network) can be considered connected if they  are within a given distance from each other to allow for certain species to access or move through  them. In addition to corridors and stepping stones, vertical connectivity of URCs is influenced by  fuzzy boundaries between terrestrial and aquatic ecosystems, described in the late 1960s by Dutch  ecologist Chris van Leeuwen as gradients (de Jong et al., 2015), that is, areas of transition between  two biomes, characterised by high biodiversity and dynamic behaviour. The suitability of these three  elements—corridors, stepping stones and gradients—in the description of the ecological networks of  URCs is scale-dependent. While the former two provide a good description of longitudinal and lateral  connectivity on the scales of the metropolitan area, the corridor and corridor segment, the latter is  more representative for smaller scales, where the consistency of the edge between river and land is  visible. In highly fragmented habitat networks, such as urban areas, where continuous corridors are scarce,  and the landscape is more fragmented (e.g. Ahern, 2007; Marcus & Berghauser Pont, 2015), stepping  stones, transversal corridors and gradients at smaller scale play an essential role in longitudinal and  lateral connectivity. The spatial configuration of these elements determines the extent to which they  can contribute to landscape connectivity. In one of their landscape ecology principles, Dramstad et  al. (1996) propose the ‘cluster of stepping stones’ as a redundant configuration of migration routes,  meant to offer multiple choices for wildlife movement (Figure 7.6a). Another principle is the so- called ‘ladder pattern’ (Figure 7.6b), characterised by an alternating configuration of open spaces  and large patches crossing a river corridor. This principle can be interpreted in an urban context as an  alternation of  urban spaces and ecological patches along an urban river. Finally, the principle ‘edge  abruptness’ (Figure 7.6c) is representative for gradient complexity and how it determines interaction  across (soft boundary) or movement along (hard boundary). TOC 192 Integrated Urban River Corridors a b c FIGURE 7.6  Three landscape ecological principles as depicted by Dramstad et al. (1996). (a) The "cluster of stepping stones"   (Dramstad et al., 1996, p. 38). In an urban context, this diagram resembles the fragmented patches of open space found within  the continuous urban fabric (the white space in this diagram), patches that connect to the continuous landscape outside the  city. (b) The “ladder-pattern” is a principle specific to river corridors (Dramstad et al., 1996, p. 39). Just like in a natural context,  as illustrated in this diagram, the alternation of built and open spaces may be sufficient to provide a hydrological sponge. (c) The  principle "edge abruptness" describes how the abruptness/softness of a habitat edge influences movement along and across an  edge (Dramstad et al., 1996, p. 29). This principle may be applied to an urban river edge: the harder the edge is, the weaker the  interaction between the river and people is, and vice versa. Source: Dramstad et al., 1996. TOC 193  Configuring connections BOx 7.1 ‘342,914 km of scaffolding’—a project for URC Colentina – Type of project: Competition entry (LE:NOTRE International Landscape Forum Bucharest 2015), first prize – Date: April 2015 – Team: Claudiu Forgaci, Maria Alexandrescu, Anca Ioana Ionescu – Location: Bucharest, Romania FIGURE 7.7  The network of strategic links proposed as a scaffolding. As part of the LE:NOTRE Landscape Forum 2015 organised in Bucharest, an international ideas competition was launched  with the title (Re)Discovering the Emerald Necklace, depicting the lakes of River Colentina crossing the north of Bucharest.  The lakes, artificially created by the stepped damming of River Colentina starting with the 1930s, have exceptional natural  qualities, especially due to the abundance of green spaces still available around them. The lakes closest to the city centre  are enclosed by urban parks that are popular among the inhabitants of Bucharest. Yet, most lakeside urban areas have  been strongly fragmented and disconnected from the public realm by the privatisation of lakeside properties during the  years of post-communist transition. The competition recognised both the exceptional natural qualities and the advanced  disconnectedness of the lakes and prompted a comprehensive strategy for their (re)integration in the city. The competition entry, entitled ‘342,914 km of scaffolding’, put  forward a strategy of Interconnectedness to rediscover and enforce the relationship between the city and the lakes. The proposed  scaffolding is an integrative framework making use of the network  of actual (existing network of roads and paths) and potential links  (desire paths) found in the URC, which were assigned as explorers, gatherers and enforcers of key destinations along the lakes and  the urban fabric surrounding them (Figure 7.7). The scaffolding  is realised with a strategic module (Figure 7.8) on the scale of a  lake consisting of three elements: (1) an outer ring linking key  urban destinations, (2) an inner ring enforcing the edge of the  lake and (3) links binding the rings together. With this topological  definition, the module is capable to adjust to the particularities  of each lake” (Figure 7.9) and to establish connections with the  network of destinations and public spaces (Figure 7.10; Absorptive Capacity) on the scale of the city and recreational spaces in the  metropolitan area (Interscalarity) (Figure 7.11).71 FIGURE 7.8  The proposed strategic module. 71  In an article published one year after the competition, Alexandrescu, Forgaci and Ionescu (2016) give an extended description of  the project and discuss its implications for the future development of Bucharest. TOC 194 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 7.9  The proposed vision illustrated on Lake Grivița. Key interventions in public and green spaces (in grey and green) collected by the proposed  network of the scaffolding (in red) are used to spatially integrate the lake and the city. FIGURE 7.10  Sample of three lakes showing how the scaffolding connects (potential) destinations and open spaces found in the URC. TOC 195  Configuring connections FIGURE 7.11  The network of connections proposed in the ‘scaffolding’ of the URC connects to the networks of public and green spaces at the scales of  the city and the metropolitan area. TOC 196 Integrated Urban River Corridors Network elements and spatial configuration The elements of the spatial networks of URCs—the water network, the traffic network and the  ecological network —, as described so far in this section and as discovered through design explorations  such as the project shown in Box 7.1, are summarised in Table 7.2 and illustrated in Figure 7.12. In its  actual configuration, the traffic network comprises the street network with primary (i.e. major traffic  lines) and secondary elements (i.e. streets dedicated to slower traffic and accessible to pedestrians).  The water network consists of the river system (i.e. main channel and tributaries) and rationalisation  (e.g. bypasses, sluices, canals) affecting the flow of water. The ecological network is composed of  green corridors (e.g. linear parks, rows of trees), green spaces acting as stepping stones (e.g. parks,  gardens, green roofs) and gradients (e.g. vegetated river banks). Besides existing elements, elements  that can potentially added to the networks are included as well: former meanders found along the  thalweg (i.e. the line of minimum elevation in the valley), as well as disconnected tributaries, are  considered elements that can potentially be added to the water network; desire paths (unpaved  informal routes, usually visible on bare ground) and former crossings (bridges) are added as potential  elements that can reinforce the traffic network, with emphasis of pedestrian links between or to social  and public spaces; non-vegetated open spaces, such as parking lots, brownfields, or former industrial  platforms, can be transformed into new stepping stones in the network of habitat patches or (in case  of impervious surfaces) into infiltration areas added to the water network. The spatial configuration  of URCs is given by the way in which the three networks (i.e. the water network, traffic network, and  ecological network) are assembled following the requirements of three-dimensional (i.e. longitudinal,  lateral and vertical) connectivity. TABLE 7.2  The spatial networks of URCs, their elements (emphasis added to potential elements) and spatial configuration. SPATIAL NETWORK ELEMENTS OF THE SPATIAL NETWORK SPATIAL CONFIGURATION Traffic network •   Primary road network as ‘pipes’,  ‘supergrid’, or ‘primary distributors’ A ‘fast lane’ should be positioned outside the river valley and a ‘slow  lane’ should be centred on the river, with a gradual transition of  speeds in-between. Transversal links should not create barriers to lon- gitudinal movement, nor should longitudinal flows impede transversal  movement. Access points to the river should be provided. (Based on  Manning, 1997; Tjallingii, 2005, 2015) •   Secondary road network as ‘sponge’ or  ‘access roads’ • Desire paths • Former or missing river crossings Water network •   The river system (main channel and  tributaries) Longitudinal connectivity can be improved by the removal of in-chan- nel obstacles. If tributaries are reactivated as major drainage lines,  more water can be stored in the valley. A permeable riverbed (provided  that water quality is good) allows for groundwater exchange. (Based  on e.g. Prominski et al., 2017) •   Rationalisations (e.g. canals, bypass  channels) • Former meanders of the river (along the thalweg direction) • Disconnected tributaries Ecological network • Green corridors A redundant network of corridors, stepping stones and gradients es- tablishes a predominantly longitudinal, but also lateral, connectivity in  the URC. Contact zones with the river are designed as ecotones aiding vertical connectivity. (Based on Dramstad et al., 1996). •   Habitat patches as stepping stones •   Gradients (e.g. vegetated river banks  as gradients between land and water) • Non-vegetated open spaces (e.g. park- ing lots, brownfields) • Non-vegetated infrastructure lines (e.g. irrigation canals, roads) • Hard river edges (e.g. concrete canal edge) TOC 197  Configuring connections FIGURE 7.12  Photographic samples of URC network elements: (1) Lea River in London; (2) bypass between Lea River and Thames, London; (3)  former meanders, Limmat River, Zurich; (4) disconnected Tributary Rotte River from Maas River, Rotterdam; (5) detail of Lea River system: bypass and  confluence with Thames; (6) channelized and covered Senne River, Bruxelles; (7) former meanders visible within the city structure, Danube in Vienna;  (8) uncovered and redesigned Cheonggyecheon River, Seoul; (9) major traffic lines along the river, Manzanares River, Madrid; (10)  secondary road  network along Canal Saint-Martin, Paris; (11) desire paths, Isar River, Munich; (12) former bridge trajectory, missing and planned connection, Someș  River, Cluj-Napoca; (13) road network following Channelized Senne, Bruxelles; (14) access road, Someș River, Cluj-Napoca; (15) green and pedestrian  connections on Leutchenbach River, Zurich; (16) slow mobility network and ecological connections along and across Elster Millrace River, Leipzig; (17)  GBI and ecological connections, Limmat River, Zurich; (18) green Corridor, Isar River, Munich; (19) parking space, non-vegetated, Don River, Sheffiled;  (20) sealed surfaces along channelized Senne River, Bruxelles; (21) patches as stepping stone, Limmat River, Zurich; (22) green corridor and river park,  Danube River, Budapest; (23) brownfields, non-vegetated space on Someș River, Cluj-Napoca; (24) sealed surfaces along channelized Senne River,  Bruxelles. Sources: Google Earth; Burgos, Garrido, Porras-Isla, Muller, & Matthews, 2014; Prominski et al., 2017. TOC 198 Integrated Urban River Corridors Principle 1: Interconnectedness In order to facilitate the movement of people, animal and plant species, and water, and to provide  a spatial framework for social-ecological integration, URCs require an interconnected spatial  configuration (Figure 7.13), which has three components: – A grid-like network of streets, informed by spatial-morphological analyses (e.g. Space Syntax analyses  of accessibility or through-movement), in which the number of existing and potential elements of  connectivity along, towards/across and within the river is maximised, in order to improve the freedom  of choice for pedestrian (i.e. hierarchically not predefined) movement. Moreover, the traffic network  hierarchy is (re)configured as a gradient of speeds from a ‘fast lane’ positioned outside the valley edge  to a ‘slow lane’ positioned on the river edges. The public transport network can also be present in the  ‘slow lane’, as long as its infrastructure does not hinder pedestrian movement. – A redundant ecological network configuration, which consists of existing and potential corridors,  stepping stones and gradients that connect the ecological network of the city to the river, and cross  the city to connect larger habitats in the urban periphery. Stepping stones are defined by ecologically  significant proximity rules (e.g. maximum Euclidean edge-to-edge distance for flying species or based  on inter-visibility distances for visually-oriented species). Gradients are found or created at the edge  between land and water (vegetated riverbanks). – A restored water network, flowing, as much as possible, along the line of minimum elevation in the  valley representing the former trajectory of the river (i.e. the thalweg of the river), in which in-channel  barriers to longitudinal connectivity are minimised. If disconnected or culverted, tributaries should  be restored as surface water drainage lines. In addition, a distributed network of water storage and  drainage solutions is included in the street network and the ecological network. As shown in the project for URC Colentina in Box 7.1, there are at least two distinct situations in which  design for interconnectedness is encountered: corridor-scale design, addressing the configuration of  the network as a whole (e.g. Figure 7.7 and Figure 7.11), and site-scale design, in which local linkages  to the wider social and ecological networks are sought (e.g. Figure 7.9). At the scale of the corridor, Interconnectedness requires an inventory of the spatial elements found  in the URC that act as either barriers or potential links for pedestrian movement, animal and plant  routes of dispersion, and water flow. This inventory may include a variety of public space elements,  such as crossings, pedestrian routes to the public space network, riverside walkways or promenades,  accessible embankments, bicycle infrastructure, public (land and water) transport routes and stops,  beaches, and pontoons; and elements of ecological space, such as linear parks, rows of trees, gardens,  and fish ladders. Corridor-scale design is typically informed by prior analysis or assessment and is  concerned with questions such as “how can the spatial configuration of the elements of connectivity  be improved to support interconnectedness?” and “how can the network elements of the corridor be  (better) designed to improve the connectivity of the URC?” Site-scale design can be located either in the river space or in the surrounding urban fabric of the URC. Design at this scale needs to respond to corridor-scale conditions and related ambitions. Regardless  of the availability of a prior corridor-scale assessment, a number of questions related to connectivity  may be considered when designing for interconnectedness on site scale: “how can a given site in  the URC be (better) connected to the networks of public and green spaces?”; “how can the river be  (better) reached or crossed from a given site within the URC?”; “how can the site (better) contribute  to transversal green(-blue) corridors in the URC?”; or “how does the design at the scale of a site in the  URC improve the physical interaction of people with the river?” TOC 199  Configuring connections FIGURE 7.13  Diagram of the Interconnectedness principle on the scale of the URC (top), corridor segment (middle), and river space (bottom). TOC 200 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 7.3.2 Intensifying open spaces Open space amenity was identified in Section 2.2.6 as an essential feature of URCs describing the  capacity of riverside open spaces to accommodate and sustain water, ecological habitats and human  activities. Accordingly, Chapter 5 devised indicators of spatial diversity (e.g. biodiversity and mix of  uses), quality (e.g. visual permeability of the river space and level of water pollution) and composition  (e.g. open space and green space coverage) to assess the extent to which desirable targets of spatial  capacity are met in a given URC. In addition to those quantifiable targets, potentials for improved  open space amenity and spatial capacity can be explored through design, and guidelines can be given  through design principles. General urban design principles summarised in Table 7.1 target open space  amenity through spatial and functional diversity, spatial and functional redundancy, constitutedness  of street frontages, porosity of urban spaces, and spatial quality. Although the regeneration of built  and unbuilt spaces and the provision of amenity in riverside urban spaces were also highlighted in  Table 7.1, further analysis of the particularities of URC design is needed. The spaces of URCs A basic requirement in urban river design, pointed out by Prominski et al. (2017, p. 15, emphasis  added), is “more space for water, more space for plants and animals, more space for people”. The  simplicity of this statement makes it a good starting point for analysing the spatial prerequisites  of URCs. Let us start by reacting to this proposition with a few questions: Why is more space a  requirement? If it is more that is required, than how much more? Where can more space be gained  from? And is more space only a matter of quantity? The reason why more space is required is not because it is always, and in any quantity, desirable, but  to recognise that there is insufficient space. As explained in Chapters 1 and 2, and further illustrated  in Chapters 3 and 4, urban rivers all around the world have been restrained by the built fabric and by  traffic infrastructure. Water is restrained in less space, as it is mostly drained instead of being stored;  green spaces are under constant development pressure; and public space is subdued by vehicular  traffic. The urgency of the matter can be recognised in several attempts at restoring spatial capacity  along urban rivers. For instance, the Dutch Room for the River programme, implemented between  2006-2015, aimed to improve the flood resilience of the country by increasing flood capacity along  the Rhine, Meuse, Waal and Ijssel rivers. Measures included receded dykes, depoldering, bypass  channel construction, channel widening and removal of in-channel obstacles. Perhaps the most  emblematic intervention within this programme is the Room for the river Waal in the city of Nijmegen,  in which a bypass channel and dedicated floodable areas were constructed to relieve the pressure on  the bottleneck at the sharp turn of the river crossing the city centre (Figure 7.14). TOC 201  Intensifying open spaces FIGURE 7.14  The project for the bypass channel on River Waal in Nijmegen: general Room for the River principles (top), plan  of the transformation (middle), aerial perspective (bottom). Sources: ruimtevoorderivier.nl. Retreived from: https://www. ruimtevoorderivier.nl/english/ (Accessed: 1 August 2018). TOC 202 Integrated Urban River Corridors How much more space is required, depends on the context. As shown in Chapters 5 and 6, the spatial  capacity of URCs can be quantified, and desirable target values can be determined, but those values  are always relative to the hydrological, ecological, environmental, social and economic conditions in  which measurements are made. Most of the time it is not even a matter of how much more space is  needed, but how much convertible space is available and what are the desirable targets. If in the case  of Room for the river Waal space could be ceded to the river by relocating parts of the village Lent,  opposite Nijmegen, a similar intervention is less likely to be implemented in city centres in which  both sides of the river are densely built up or occupied by road infrastructure. In the case of Madrid  Río (Burgos et al., 2014), one of the most extensive riverside infrastructure  and public space projects  to date, the Spanish capital buried a whole section of a motorway running along River Manzanares to  free up the space for a large public and green space (Figure 7.15). A similar but less extensive riverside  intervention is Paris Plages, mentioned in Section 1.1, in which riverside car traffic was removed and  the river was reclaimed as a pedestrian space. In both cases, public space or green space was gained by  the relocation or reallocation of the space of vehicular movement. FIGURE 7.15  River Manzanares before and after the Madrid Río project. Source: eoi.es. Retreived from: http://www.eoi.es/blogs/imsd/project- management-rio-madrid-project/ (Accessed: 1 August 2018). Coming back to the statement of Prominski et al., it is not likely that target values, if any, of all three  recipients—water, wildlife and people—can be reached. They are on an equal footing, which means  that allocating more space to all three involves, to some extent, a confrontation of needs and a  superposition of spaces. In this sense, the combined—green, social, hydrological—functionality of  open spaces is at least as important as reaching a certain quantifiable target. In this sense, Water Square Benthemplein designed by the Dutch urban and landscape design office De Urbansiten is a  well-known example in which storm-water storage and recreation were accommodated in the same  space (Figure 7.16). Green and Blue Infrastructure (GBI) solutions, described in Section 2.2.2, have  also been successfully implemented all over the world as a way to combine water and green space in  order to reduce storm-water runoff, to increase infiltration, and to improve micro- and meso-climate,  among other benefits. Moreover, GBI is an urban amenity, as it is often designed to provide public  space functions. TOC 203  Intensifying open spaces FIGURE 7.16  The Water Square Benthemplein in Rotterdam, the Netherlands, is designed as an urban public space that can also store storm water  during extreme rainfall. Photo credit: Jeroen Musch. Hence, the association between more space, on the one hand, and its recipients water, animals  and plants and people, on the other hand, makes the statement of Prominski et al. (2017) both  quantitative and qualitative. The former suggests an increase in spatial capacity, while in the latter  the capacity is assigned to specific needs. Spatial quality is, thus, reflected in storm water quality  typically addressed in GBI solutions (Perini & Sabbion, 2017), in aspects such as biodiversity and  habitat composition in urban space for animals and plants (e.g. Beatley, 2011),  in the diversity,  visual permeability, identity, and legibility of urban space for people (e.g. Lynch, 1960), and in the  psychological benefits of integrating nature in public space (Kaplan & Kaplan, 1989). Overall, this  quantitative and qualitative characterisation of open spaces reminds of the concept of porosity  (Viganò, 2009a), that is, the balanced distribution of open and meaningful urban spaces permeable  by water, people and ecosystem agents. In addition to spatial dimensions, the temporal dimension must be taken into account, especially  considering the spatial impact of urbanization on rivers, as described in Section 1.1 and illustrated  with the case of Bucharest in Chapter 3. Understanding the  transformations of the spatial relationship  between the river corridor and the urban fabric throughout history is crucial. For instance, the  relationship between an urban fabric and a river prior to rationalisation (e.g. through rectification or  canalisation), was characterised by a certain dynamic interaction, in which open spaces were formed  and distributed as a result of a long-term process of mutual interaction between culture and nature.  In this sense, juxtaposition of the river’s natural trajectory and geomorphology on the city’s current  urban fabric,  can give insight into how open spaces should be reconnected, and thus become carriers  for ecology. The project presented in Box 7.2 builds on this juxtaposition to devise a strategy of social- ecological integration and spatial reactivation in URC Dâmbovița. TOC 204 Integrated Urban River Corridors BOx 7.2 ‘Bucharest: Between North and South’—a project for URC Dâmbovița – Type of project: Post-master thesis (European postgraduate Masters in Urbanism) – Date: June 2013 – Author: Claudiu Forgaci – Location: Bucharest, Romania FIGURE 7.17  Strategic public and ecological corridors collecting meaningful places along the URC Dâmbovița (Forgaci, 2013). This project departed from the hypothesis that the divide between the north and south of Bucharest is partially  caused by the transformation of Dâmbovița, the river crossing the centre of the city, from a meandering river and a  dynamic floodplain into a technical infrastructure designed for flood protection and vehicular traffic, i.e. a physical  barrier. Inspired by regional urbanisation patterns carried by rivers and the networked configuration of urban  settlements connected by rail and road networks, the strategy centres urban development on the river. To that end,  the projects built on the hidden spatial potentials of the river valley found in the configuration and scale of the urban  fabric (Figure 7.18). As shown in Figure 7.17, the project identifies major public spaces along canalised River Dâmbovița (in blue)  and ecological spaces along the southern valley edge (in red) as strategic spaces of integration making use of the  topography of the river valley. As a strategy of Absorptive Capacity, the project makes use of public spaces, non- residential private spaces and underused spaces (Figure 7.19) located in the river space or along the southern valley  edge. By enforcing the continuity of these spaces with networks running along and across the corridor, it increases the  Interconnectedness of the URC. TOC 205  Intensifying open spaces FIGURE 7.18  The relative size of urban islands in Bucharest from small (black) to large (white). FIGURE 7.19  Analysis of spatial barriers, scale (grain) of urban space (classified by size of urban islands), residential and non-residential uses in  relation to secondary and primary roads and open spaces found in one of the key sites along River Dâmbovița. Based on this spatial analysis, the  strategy works with barriers and open spaces to restore spatial continuities along the corridor, and it proposes new uses within those spaces to improve  the spatial amenity of River Dâmbovița. TOC 206 Integrated Urban River Corridors Spatial elements and composition As summarised in Table 7.3, the open spaces of URCs consist of water space, social space, and green  space. Here social space refers to all spaces accessible to pedestrians which afford social interaction  (i.e. public space) or spaces with different degrees of publicness (semi-public, semi-private or  private) that have an impact on the quality of public space in their proximity. For instance, the design  of the latter can contribute to safety, visual permeability, attractiveness through their architectural  or landscape design and use (e.g. green or transparent fence, no technical ground floor, uses that  animate public space). Such targets can be attained through the involvement of local actors, as well  as urban rules or policies addressing riverside design and planning. Partially coinciding with social  space is green space, which includes parks, lawns, rows of trees, forests, but also gardens, green  roofs, or buffer areas that may not be publicly accessible nor necessarily open to social interaction.  The design, use and maintenance of green spaces influences the quality of the social and ecological  space. The water space comprises all surface water (e.g. the river, lakes, ponds) and spaces which  temporarily drain and store water, with degrees of perviousness ranging from hard surfaces (e.g.  water square) to bare soil or vegetated surfaces (e.g. green and blue infrastructure). In addition to  these three categories, there are undefined and underused open spaces (e.g. leftover industrial areas,  brownfields), found even in densely built urban areas, that may be repurposed to afford amenities.  These spatial categories are not exclusive in relation to one another; they can potentially increase each  other’s  spatial capacity and quality, as shown in Table 7.3. TABLE 7.3  The spaces of URCs, their elements (emphasis added to potentials for multifunctionality) and spatial composition. SPACES OF THE URC SPATIAL ELEMENTS SPATIAL COMPOSITION Social space •   Public space: Squares, sidewalks, pedestrian streets, shared  spaces •   Semi-public, semi-private and private spaces contributing to  the quality of public space or to social interaction (e.g. public  functions at grade) Space for people can be gained by relocating individual vehicular  space away from public spaces. The environmental, ecological  and psychological benefits of public space can be improved  by incorporating green spaces and temporary water storage  solutions. The quality and capacity of social space in the river  front and surrounding urban spaces can be improved by guiding  interventions in semi-public, semi-private and private spaces  towards a positive visual (e.g. visibility and transparency of  building frontages) and functional (e.g. mixed use and public  uses at grade) impact on public space. (Based on e.g. Kaplan &  Kaplan, 1989; Lynch, 1960; Prominski et al., 2017) • Freed up and repurposed vehicular space (parking spaces, downgraded roads, shared spaces, slowed paths and river crossings) • Storm water storage in public space (more water space, e.g. water square) • Ecological potential in public, semi-public and private space: parks, gardens, green roofs (more green space) Green space •   Vegetated open spaces: parks, gardens, yards, buffer zones,  vegetated traffic islands, green roofs. Green space can be gained and sustained through green and pervious public spaces. Green spaces should integrate public uses (e.g. recreation, contemplation), provide ecosystem ser- vices (e.g. micro-climate regulation), and make use of green and  blue infrastructure and water sensitive urban design solutions to store, infiltrate and drain storm water. (Based on e.g. Perini &  Sabbion, 2017) • Recreational potential (more social space) • Increased water infiltration (more water space) Water space •   Water surfaces in the URC: rivers, streams, lakes, ponds,  wetlands. Space for water can be gained by widening the river or restoring  its meanders and by providing potentially floodable areas in a  buffer zone along the thalweg. Storage, infiltration and circula- tion of water (provided that water quality is good), in accordance  with favourable subsoil conditions in the valley, is encouraged.  (Based on e.g. Prominski et al., 2017) • Water storage spaces • Restored river meanders • Recreational potential (more social space) • Ecological potential (more green space) TOC 207  Intensifying open spaces FIGURE 7.20  Photographic samples of open space elements: (1) sidewalk and fish leader, Regen River, Regensburg; (2) beach spaces and public  space on Isar River, Munich; (3) downgraded road, shared space and public space, Paris Plages project, Seine River, Paris; (4) sidewalk and beach on  downgraded road, Paris Plages project, Seine River, Paris; (5) water square and slow mobility networks, Don River, Sheffield;  (6) access point to the  water, Limmat River, Zurich; (7) parks and public space on top of buried highway, Manzanares River, Madrid; (8) parks and public space, from industrial  purposed waterway to urban river, Wupper River, Wuppertal; (9) vegetated river banks and (10) water storage park, wetlands on Besos River, Barcelona;  (11) private gardens and semi-private garages towards Someș River, Cluj-Napoca; (12) vegetated traffic island, Limmat River, Zurich; (13) recreational  river space (event field, camping, sidewalk and park) on Limmat River, Zurich; (14) green river bank and slow mobility on Don River, Sheffield; (15)  private and semi-private river bank with ecological potential, Someș River, Cluj-Napoca; (16) vegetated traffic stepping stone, Danube River, Vienna;  (17) water space, Limmat River, Zurich; (18) new river meanders, Kallang River, Singapore; (19) floodable pathway, Regen River, Regensburg; (20) river  restoration growing ecological and public space potentials, Besos River, Barcelona; (21) restored river wetlands and places for social activities, Yongning  River, Taizou; (22) water squares, Manzanares River, Madrid; (23) floodable pathway, Seine River,  Choisy-le-rois; (24) uncovered and redesigned water  space of Cheonggyecheon River, Seoul. Sources: Google Earth; Burgos et al., 2014; Prominski et al., 2017. TOC 208 Integrated Urban River Corridors Principle 2: Absorptive Capacity Absorptive Capacity, proposed in this section, is a principle meant to guide the design of riverside  open spaces while maintaining a balanced relationship with the built fabric. Besides the capacity to  accommodate and to sustain, it considers the attractiveness of riverside open spaces. In addition  to the spatial configuration of URCs networks addressed under the principle of Interconnectedness, Absorptive Capacity focuses on spatial composition to show what and how much is (or should be) there  and in what relative abundance.72 Hence, it aims for a more porous urban space, in which capacity is  conditioned by both the composition and quality of open spaces. Both from social and ecological point of view, the abundance of open space must be balanced with  spatial configuration. Spatial abundance is not sufficient neither for well-functioning public spaces,  nor for green spaces. Public spaces need to be combined with built densities in spatial configurations  and principles in which buildings define, or are designed together with, open space, and their relation  with the surrounding open space is considered in a qualitative way (e.g. public functions at grade or  visual permeability). From an ecological point of view, the spatial configuration of habitat patches in  urban areas is as important as their composition. In order to spatially accommodate, sustain and attract water, ecosystems and people, URCs must have  Absorptive Capacity, that is, a redundant and attractive composition of three categories of open space:  water spaces, social spaces and green spaces (Figure 7.21). – Spatial redundancy for can be achieved by allocating undefined urban spaces to at least one of the  three categories or by re-distributing existing open spaces among the three categories. It can also  be achieved by upgrading the multifunctionality of existing open spaces (i.e. combining elements of  water space, social space and river space). – Attractiveness is achieved, by providing extra space for people and ecosystems, by gaining advantage  from the potential multifunctionality and diversity of open spaces, and by determining the optimal  sizes and locations in regard to their configuration at multiple scales. In designing URCs towards Absorptive Capacity, any open space in the URC may be considered  as potentially green, social, and water space. Open space, according to this principle, is in itself a  potential and its integrated (social-ecological) identity should be inherent in the case of URCs. For  instance, a parking lot has the potential of becoming a green space, a water square or a community  space. A canal can be redesigned as a recreational space or a migration route for species. 72  Composition is used here according to its definition from landscape ecology, which is different from its usage in design. In design,  composition refers to a spatial arrangement, which is configuration in landscape ecology. TOC 209  Intensifying open spaces FIGURE 7.21  Diagram of the principle of Absorptive Capacity on the scale of the corridor (top), corridor segment (middle), and river space (bottom). TOC 210 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 7.3.3 Growing synergies Integration was presented throughout the thesis as a central goal in transdisciplinary research (Section  1.5.2), as well as in the description (Section 2.2.6) and assessment (Section 5.4.4) of URCs as social- ecological systems.73 Urban design principles (Table 7.1) address integration by balancing built-up  density with open space, by promoting design with the landscape (e.g. topography, vegetation,  climate) and by integrating nature in urban space, e.g. through green infrastructure (GI). Integration  is a central requirement in the design of URCs, achievable by a joint use of the networks and spaces  of the city and the river (e.g. waterfront promenades connected to the network of public spaces of the  city, green and blue infrastructure solutions). Coupling the networks and spaces of URCs—synergies and conflicts Resilient urban development requires a view of the city as an integrated social-ecological system, in  which ecosystem services and urban system services are jointly addressed in urban design (Barthel  et al., 2013). As shown in Figure 7.22, designing the elements and networks and addressing the  actors and processes of both the ecological and the social system can lead to an improved provision of  ecosystem and urban system services. FIGURE 7.22  In their study of Albano Campus in Stockholm, entitled “Principles of Social-Ecological Urbanism”, Barthel et al.  (2013) identify design components that can improve ecosystem services and urban system services. Source: Barthel et al., 2013. 73  Other similar approaches to integrated systems have evolved in parallel with social-ecological systems (SES) theory. Notable ex- amples are coupled human and natural systems (CHANS), coupled human-environment systems, or human-environment systems  (e.g. Liu et al., 2007). TOC 211  Growing synergies Building on the integrative potential of three-dimensional connectivity (May, 2006), the principle  of Interconnectedness proposed a spatial configuration, in which the social, ecological and water  networks can be assembled in a non-conflicting way (see project in Box 7.1). Integration was also  visible in the definition of Absorptive Capacity, in which social, ecological and water spaces overlapped to form multifunctional open spaces (e.g. see project in Box 7.3). However, the spatial dimension of  networks and the topology of spaces remained implicit in the two principles. An integrated approach  should make this two-way relation between networks and spaces explicit. This way, an integrated  pattern-process understanding (Turner & Gardner, 2015) of URCs can be attained. Potentials for  networks can be sought in open spaces, not necessarily spatially connected on the ground (e.g. an  impervious open space can be transformed into a stepping stone in the ecological network), open  spaces can be created along elements of the network or they can be made more accessible by new  connections. Social-ecological integration is a challenge for design, as the relationship between the social and ecological systems is unavoidably and inherently subject to reciprocal tuning. This is due to the  contested nature of urban river space, on one hand, and due to the necessity of involving different  stakeholders, on the other. As shown in Table 7.1, illustrative in this sense is the aim of urban  design to find a balance between densification and the provision of green space (e.g. Beatley, 2000;  Benedict & McMahon, 2006). Another fundamental principle of urban design is that of stakeholder  involvement, as opposed to design as an individual act of creation. Accordingly, design for social- ecological integration in URCs requires an understanding of conflicts and synergies arising from the  spatial juxtaposition of the network and spatial elements of the URC. As shown in Table 7.4, synergies  and conflicts between and across network- and spatial elements found in the URC can be addressed. TABLE 7.4  Conflicts and synergies found in and between the elements of the networks and open spaces in the URC. NETWORK ELEMENTS SPATIAL ELEMENTS NETWORK AND SPATIAL ELEMENTS Conflicts •   Barriers to movement across, along or  within the river (e.g. high-speed traffic  along the river banks or bridge inter- rupting ecological connectivity along a  river, or weirs acting as barriers for fish  movement) •   Impervious and non-vegetated urban  spaces that do not store water and do not accommodate elements of green  space •   Public spaces that do not participate in  the network of ecological patches • Infrastructure lines that create barriers to species movement (e.g. power lines,  rail lines or high speed vehicular traffic  lines) Synergies •   Multifunctional streets •   Non-overlapping and reciprocally  supportive spatial configuration of the  water-, traffic- and ecological networks •   Multifunctional open spaces •   Ecosystem services (e.g. micro- and  meso-climate regulation) provided by  green or green-blue infrastructure •   Green streets acting as links between  ecological patches TOC 212 Integrated Urban River Corridors BOx 7.3 ‘Someș turns its face towards the city’—a project for URC Someșul Mic – Type of project: Competition entry – Date: September 2017 – Team: Paola Viganò, Claudiu Forgaci, Qinyi Zhang, Anca Ioana Ionescu, Iulia Sârbu, Stella Armelli – Consultants: Cristian Tetelea (river restoration), Alessandra Crosato (river engineering), Norbert Petrovici (urban  sociology) – Location: Cluj-Napoca, Romania FIGURE 7.23  The three proposed scenarios (from top to bottom) Social Someș, Rational Someș, and Ecological Someș were overlapped and strategic  actions were devised where conflicts and synergies were identified. The project for River Someșul Mic employed a strategy that put emphasis on Interconnectedness, Absorptive Capacity and Social-Ecological Integration. The spaces of the river (i.e. the river space and green space, under the  scenario ‘Ecological Someș’) and of people (i.e. social space under the scenario ‘Social Someș’), and the underlying  infrastructures (referred to as ‘Rational Someș’) form the base of an integrated urban development plan. Strategic  actions were proposed where conflicts or synergies arose between these three extreme scenarios of the river (Figure  7.23). The method of scenarios was employed to uncover the full potential of the river for integration and to base  design ideas on the synergies and conflicts between the three scenarios. The scenarios were built and confronted  across temporal and spatial scales, in order to reveal cross scalar interdependencies. For instance, the damming  of the river upstream (i.e. on catchment scale) determined the armoured character of the river (i.e. the lack of  sedimentation). Or, the study of the past trajectories of the river led to the identification of a site for a bypass channel  proposed in the project where a former braided section of the river was located. Given the transdisciplinarity of  the topic, the process was guided by the collaboration and co-building of the scenarios together with experts from  different fields: a local urban sociologist, a river engineer, and a river ecologist. TOC 213  Growing synergies Principle 3: Social-Ecological Integration Drawing on the previous two principles—Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity—and informed  by design explorations (e.g. Box. 7.3), Social-Ecological Integration is a design principle seeking to  build synergies between the social and ecological elements of the networks and open spaces found  in the URC. Hence, the Social-Ecological Integration of URCs can be improved by targeting areas of  (potential) conflict and synergy at the spatial superposition of network elements (i.e. actual and  potential connectivity) and spatial elements (i.e. actual and potential spatial capacity) as follows  (Figure 7.24): – Social-ecologically integrated URCs combine water networks, ecological networks and traffic networks  in a non-conflicting and reciprocally supportive spatial configuration. A parallel (in a topological sense)  configuration of three-dimensional connectivity is encouraged, in which barriers to social, ecological  and water movement at the intersection of the three dimensions are avoided. – In social-ecologically integrated URCs, open space is a resource that is preferably shared by people,  ecosystems and water, thus multifunctionality and hybridity is encouraged. – Social-Ecological Integration establishes a complementary and reciprocal relation between the  networks and the elements of URCs. Networks can increase the importance of open spaces by  enhancing their accessibility, while spatial elements (through open space amenity) can add quality  and increase the importance of network elements in relation to one another. FIGURE 7.24  Social-ecological integration: synergies (in green) and conflicts (in red) among and across the elements of Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity. TOC 214 Integrated Urban River Corridors When designing for Social-Ecological Integration, areas of conflict and of synergies are approached  differently: – In the design of areas of conflict (e.g. floodable area in public space), adaptation of traditional  functions or solutions are sought (e.g. water square). – Areas of synergy (e.g. beach in the inner bend of a river) are promoted and designed as key  destinations; improved connectivity to and increased spatial capacity of these spaces is a priority. § 7.3.4 Bridging scales As concluded in Section 2.2.6, a multiscalar approach is necessary for determining the boundaries of  URCs as social-ecological systems. Such an approach raises the question: “Which spatial and temporal  scales should be considered for a total understanding of URCs?” Yet, a description at multiple scales  does not necessarily specify interdependencies across scales, a requirement also pointed out as  one of the urban design principles related to multiscalarity in Table 7.1. Design across scales makes  interdependencies explicit by asking an additional question: “How and to what extent are URCs  constrained or sustained by cross-scalar interactions?” Such an approach is especially important  considering that URCs are complex adaptive systems (CASs) (Holland, 1992; Portugali, 2012),  characterised by emergent behaviour (Batty, 2003) and cascading effects across scales (Kinzig et al.,  2006). Hence, a design principle addressing cross-scalar interactions in URCs requires knowledge  of scale as a general concept, of the range of scales specific to URCs, and of the interactions between  those scales. What is scale? In Cosmic View: The Universe in 40 Jumps, Dutch educator Kees Boeke (1957) set out to describe the  universe by means of visual frames at different scales, ranging from the human scale up to the scale of  the universe and down to sub-atomic scales. Each successive frame, magnified or reduced ten times  from the previous one, had a different identity and a different story. Adopted and popularised twenty  years later by Charles and Ray Eames in a film—thus introducing a seamless transition between the  frames of Boeke—, Powers of Ten (1977) became a widespread educational tool for understanding  scale (Figure 7.25). The reason why this tool was so effective is because, on one hand, it showed things  at scales that otherwise could not be seen (from the abstract scale of subatomic particles to that of the  known universe) and because, on the other hand, it made the nested relation between those scales  explicit. The neutral frame used by Boeke and the Eames—a 1x1m square incrementally magnified or reduced  by a factor of 10—is effective as an educational tool about the nature of the universe. In practice,  however, frames and their level of detail (grain) are determined the other way around, based on the  object and phenomenon that is being studied. According to de Jong (2012), the frame is given by the  smallest circle or sphere circumscribing an object while the grain can be described in terms of the  radius of the largest circle that the object’s smallest component can contain. To generalise de Jong’s  observation and Boeke’s description, there is a limited range of relevant scales, each with a different  identity (see Figure 7.25), which is defined by a system boundary. Scale is a key concept in fields like  landscape ecology (Turner & Gardner, 2015), systems ecology (Odum, 1971), geography (Herod,  2011), and in the study of complex human-environment systems (Manson, 2008). For the purposes  of spatial (i.e. urban and landscape) design, landscape ecology develops a workable definition that is  representative of all these fields: scale is “the spatial or temporal dimension of an object or a process,  TOC 215 Bridging scales characterised by both grain and extent” (Turner & Gardner, 2015, pp. 17–18), in which the extent  is determined by the object/system boundary and grain is the smallest meaningful unit. In a spatial  representation of geographic data, for instance, the grain can be a grid cell in a raster image or a  Minimum Mapping Unit (MMU) in a vector dataset. FIGURE 7.25  Frames from the film Powers of Ten (1977) by Charles and Ray Eames. Source: Icon Magazine. Retrieved from https://www.iconeye. com/opinion/icon-of-the-month/item/9949-powers-of-ten (Accessed June 30, 2018). Cross-scalar interactions In social-ecological systems, interactions across scales are determined by the hierarchy (structure)  (e.g. Odum, 1971) and panarchy (dynamics) (Gunderson & Holling, 2002) governing the system. Hierarchies were already introduced in the description of road networks in Section 7.3.1. Distinction  was made between the emergent (often spatially interconnected) hierarchies of pedestrian  movement, described by the social logic of street networks (Hillier & Hanson, 1989), and the imposed  (i.e. with differentiated speeds) or spatially explicit (i.e. dendritic) hierarchies of streets dedicated to  vehicular movement (e.g. Marshall, 2005). Although the two kinds of hierarchies have the same grain,  the former is representative of smaller scales (i.e. smaller extent; the scales of the street or district),  while the latter includes larger scales (i.e. a potentially larger extent, e.g. that of the metropolitan  vehicular traffic network).  In systems ecology, the levels-of-organisation hierarchy of Odum (1971) emphasizes the fact that  system behaviour and, accordingly, -organisation changes with scale. Centred on the level of an  organism, systems ecology characterises scales above the organism (i.e. the environment up to the  level of the ecosphere) by the pulsating paradigm of homeorhesis and scales below the organism  TOC 216 Integrated Urban River Corridors (down to the level of molecules) by homeostasis.74 Evolutionary ecology (Pianka, 2011) further  correlates spatial scales of biological phenomena with temporal scales by noting that communities  and ecosystems are subject to phenomena on larger spatial scales and longer temporal spans than  phenomena occurring on organism and sub-organism levels. With a shift in focus from organism  to the spatial manifestation of ecosystems (i.e. spatial heterogeneity of landscape pattern and  process), landscape ecology defines scale in terms of a three-level hierarchy, in which a level of focus is contained by a level of constraints (above) and it is detailed by a level of components (below) (Turner &  Gardner, 2015). As illustrated in Figure 7.26, each level of the hierarchy contains holons, i.e. elements  which are both parts and wholes.75 Thus, the hierarchy defined this way is relative and it depends on  the system in question and on what is chosen as the focal unit. According to Turner & Gardner (2015),  cross-scale interactions, enabled by connectivity, spatial composition and configuration of focal units,  are important because they can generate emergent behaviour. Connectivity among focal units allows  changes to propagate through the system, while the spatial composition and configuration of the units  determines their relative importance in the system. FIGURE 7.26  The levels of a hierarchy in which upper levels constrain lower levels and lower levels provide detail. Redrawn from:  Turner & Gardner (2015). Panarchy (Gunderson & Holling, 2002), introduced in Section 1.3, can be described as a hierarchy of  adaptive cycles (Folke et al., 2010), in which cycles in upper levels affect smaller, faster levels in the  renewal phase, while lower level cycles may cascade to upper levels. It adds a temporal dimension to  the spatial hierarchies described above. In this sense, understanding past dynamics of elements at the  scales of focus, constraints and components can reveal potentials for design in URCs. For instance, the  former trajectory of a rectified river can be restored in order to improve river hydrology. Or, knowledge  of historical routes built along the river and their transformations can inform plans for the future  transformation of the traffic network. 74 Homeorhesis is the dynamic behavior that describes the tendency of a system to return to a trajectory, while homeostasis describes the tendency of a system to maintain a state of dynamic equilibrium. 75  The term ‘holon’ was coined by Arthur Koestler in his book The Ghost in the Machine (1967). According to him, holons exhibit a  degree of self-reliance and can respond to disturbances without being restricted or controlled by an upper authority. A holarchy  is a particular form of hierarchy that does not have a top and bottom, as its components, all holons, are simultaneously parts and  wholes. TOC 217 Bridging scales BOx 7.4 ‘Three faces of Vernon’—a project for URC Seine – Type of project: Competition entry – Date: June 2015 – Authors: Claudiu Forgaci, Anca Ioana Ionescu – Collaborators: Maria Alexandrescu, Maria Ionescu, Lila Athenasladova – Location: Vernon, France FIGURE 7.27  The proposed design of the riverside park combines landscape and urban elements to establish meaningful connections with the surroundings. The project ‘Three faces of Vernon’ is based on three qualities of  the city: in-betweenness of the valley as a space concentrating  longitudinal through-movement at regional scale, perpendicularity, as  a new transversal topology at the scale of the valley, and permeability,  i.e. a sponge-like social-spatial network of public and private spaces  subject to transformation at the scale of the urban fabric. The vision  articulates these three topological qualities as ‘faces’ of Vernon that  can be combined in a strategy of Interconnectedness across three scales (Interscalarity). ‘In-between Vernon’ brings all three scales  together by proposing key destinations along two regional carrying  structures of the city, the railway and River Seine. These destinations  include a redeveloped station area and a riverside park (Figure  7.27) ‘Perpendicular Vernon’ is a new transversal topology meant to  reconnect the two banks of the Seine, the station area and riverside  natural areas. The topological map presented in Figure 7.29, is a  multi-scalar plan representation of new or reassigned transversal  connections (e.g. new boat routes across the river, a pedestrian-bike  bridge) in the city and the river valley (Figure 7.28).  FIGURE 7.28  A vision of Vernon that slows down parallel flows with an enforced  transversal topology connecting multiple scales. If reinforced, these connections could re- design the relation between the city of Vernon and the natural territory of Seine valley. TOC 218 Integrated Urban River Corridors ‘Permeable Vernon’ provides a framework for infill projects that make use of the potentials of open spaces to provide  functions that contribute to the quality of public space (e.g. green pockets, cafés). Overall, this project worked  extensively with reinforcing the conditions for spatial interaction (Absorptive Capacity) between different levels of  connectivity (Interconnectedness) and across different scales (Interscalarity). FIGURE 7.29  Proposed topological map of Vernon. The map combines spatial elements at different scales to emphasise valuable transversal  connections between the city and the valley.  TOC 219 Bridging scales The scales of URCs For a better understanding of interactions across these scales, the whole system, including the  larger river catchment and the metropolitan area, must be taken into consideration (Figure 7.30). In  other words, the boundaries of the system must be established. As shown in Box 7.4, a cross-scalar  approach involves a concomitant representation of social-ecological connections and spaces at  scale(s) of focus, scale(s) of constraint, and scale(s) of components. As shown in the environmental-ecological and planning-governance  on URCs perspectives (Sections  2.2.2 and 2.2.4), the scale of the larger river catchment, represented by a river management unit,  such as the River Basin District (RBD) of the Water Framework Directive (WFD) in Europe (EU, 2000),  must be considered regardless of the scale of the area of interest. The catchment is where the territory  of the river as a whole is visible. At this scale, hydrological and geomorphological conditions can be  understood. From a social-economic perspective the waterfront as a social-economic space at human  scale is visible at the scale of the river space. Apart from the boundaries of the river system, the planning, governance and spatial design of  URCs must consider the boundaries of the urban system too. The urban system as a whole can be  understood at the scale of the metropolitan area, or what is called in Europe and OECD countries the  Functional Urban Areas (FUAs), or large urban zones (LUZs), comprising a spatially contiguous urban  core, non-contiguous cores linked to the main core by major commuting patterns, and a hinterland  defined by a “worker catchment area” (OECD, 2013). Working on multiple spatial and temporal scales is a common practice in urban design (Carmona et  al., 2010), landscape design (Manning, 1997) and river design (Ingaramo & Voghera, 2016). Urban  designers mostly focus on sites at neighbourhood scale, street scale or plot scale where the elements  of urban space can be discerned and experienced by people. In landscape design, the range of scales  is widened to encompass natural processes at micro- (e.g. garden design), meso- (e.g. urban park  design), and macro scales (e.g. regional forest trail network). As a particular form of landscape design,  river design is constrained by catchment- and corridor-scale processes and puts emphasis on the  scale of the river space. Manning (1997), for instance, describes the importance of river convolution,  curvature and diversity on macro (corridor) and micro (river edge) scale for human-nature coexistence  and, thus, for the design of riverside landscapes. FIGURE 7.30  Continuum of scales of constraints, focus, and components in relation to the scalar framework of URCs defined in Section 2.3: (1) the  catchment for the river system and the metropolitan area for the urban system; (2) the urban river corridor and the corridor segment; (3) the river space  and the site representing typical scales of detail. TOC 220 Integrated Urban River Corridors When applied to URCs, the three-level hierarchy of nested scales used in landscape ecology (Turner &  Gardner, 2015, Figure 7.26) can be used as a framework to organise the scales introduced in Section  2.3 (Figure 7.30) as a continuum ranging from the scale of the catchment to the scale of the site,  wherein the level of context (constraints) and the level of details (components) are located on the upper and lower ends, respectively, and the URC and its segments are the levels of focus. Principle 4: Interscalarity Like Social-Ecological Integration, Interscalarity is a relational principle, as it addresses the distribution and interaction of URC elements across scales. Interscalarity in URC design can be attained by  considering the whole scalar spectrum of the river system and the urban system, ranging from the  catchment scale and metropolitan scale on upper levels, through the scale of the corridor and corridor  segment as units of focus, to the scale of the river space and sites within the corridor as scales of detail.  Therefore, when designing in URCs, interscalarity can be achieved: – by responding to the constraints of the catchment (e.g. altered sedimentation regimes due to  damming upstream, or impact of industrial land use on the quality of water downstream) and the  metropolitan area (e.g. metropolitan traffic management); – by focusing on the consequences of the intervention on the corridor (e.g. transformation of a parking lot  into a green space with an impact on corridor-wide patch network connectivity) and on the urban context  of the corridor segment (e.g. the morphological particularities of a riverside neighbourhood); and – by carrying out or demonstrating (i.e. testing the implications of a larger strategy) the spatial  transformation on the scale of the river space (e.g. transformation of riverside traffic line into a shared  space with access points to water) and/or the site (e.g. architectural intervention in a vacant lot of the  URC with a public ground floor and green roof). Depending on the design assignment, the scale of focus may vary on the spectrum shown in Figure 7.30,  as long as interactions and interdependencies with scales of constraint and scales of components on the  rest of the spectrum are taken into consideration. The focus of design can be anywhere on the spectrum,  but it is more likely to be located on the scales of the metropolitan area (e.g. metropolitan park system),  URC scale (e.g. slow mobility line along the corridor), URC segment scale (e.g. transversal green corridors  in a riverside neighbourhood), or river space (e.g. shared space design in the riverfront). Interscalarity as a design principle implies a response to a design assignment at one of these scales of focus, while having a  desirable impact on the scales of context and scales of detail. Accordingly, questions in design related to interscalarity are: How can design on one scale have  positive effect on larger scales? Or, what kind of small-scale interventions can a system at large afford?  For instance, a site-scale design must also consider corridor- or corridor segment scale conflicts or  synergies highlighted according to the principle of Social-Ecological Integration. It is often the case in  river design and planning, that by solving problems locally, other problems are created upstream or  downstream. Examples include flood protection measures which can cause flooding in settlements  upstream or downstream, or the local insertion of polluting activities that may affect downstream  settlements. Local increase in river capacity, such as the new bypass channel in the Room for the  Waal project (Figure 7.14), can have a positive impact on the functioning of the river system as a  whole. Metropolitan-scale mobility constraints and catchment-scale hydrologic conditions may also  have an impact locally. Therefore, even in very localised interventions, the whole scalar spectrum  must be considered. Another example is a corridor-scale design in which key sites, important for the  interconnectedness of the URC, are identified in certain corridor segments, both in the river space  and inside the urban fabric. In this case, catchment- and metropolitan-scale constraints can further  narrow the selection criteria of key sites. TOC 221 Discussion § 7.4 Discussion Developed from the four key properties of URCs defined in Chapter 2—connectivity, open space capacity, integration and multiscalarity—and germinated in four river design projects (Boxes 7.1- 7.4), the principles proposed in this chapter—Interconnectedness, Absorptive Capacity, Social- Ecological Integration, and Interscalarity—form a comprehensive set. As shown in Figure 7.31,  Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity refer to the spatial elements of URCs, while Social- Ecological Integration and Interscalarity describe the spatial-temporal and systemic relations between  those elements. FIGURE 7.31  The four design principles proposed in the thesis (right), as derived from the four key properties of URCs (left). Interactions and interdependencies between the network- and open space elements identified under  Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity were already pointed out in the descriptions of Social- Ecological Integration (e.g. major infrastructure lines as barriers to the movement of ecosystem  agents) and Interscalarity (e.g. the influence of individual green spaces on the network of habitat  patches on corridor or landscape scale), However, a number of aspects regarding their combined  application in design and, as they are built on transdisciplinary grounds, their mixed knowledge base  present a number of conceptual challenges. First of all, Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity contain elements from both urban design  and landscape ecology, in which the interaction and movement of people, on the one hand, and the  movement of animals and plants, on the other hand, are conceptualised and represented differently.  The movement of people is typically represented as a network, in which links are trips (e.g. by foot, by  car, by public transport) and nodes are origins or destinations (e.g. buildings, parks, streets). In case  of ecosystems, on the other hand, it is movement, different from that of people (i.e. less constrained  by linear network infrastructures), which is implied in the patch representation of land mosaics. This   conceptual overlap between Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity was clarified by the use of  synergies and conflicts in the principle of Social-Ecological Integration. TOC 222 Integrated Urban River Corridors Social-Ecological Integration and Interscalarity reveal relations between the elements of  Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity. They are less defined spatially and depend on what have  been identified as elements of Interconnectedness or Absorptive Capacity. Therefore, in the design process, Social-Ecological Integration and Interscalarity are likely to be used after Interconnectedness or Absorptive Capacity. Interscalarity is of particular interest here. Normally, scales in a project are  defined in early stages of the design process as part of a brief or assignment, with little to no possibility  to understand interscalar dependencies. Because these dependencies can only be identified after  spatial elements and the system have been understood, Interscalarity is employed, or at least revised,  in a later stage of the design process. The three-level hierarchy of scales—scale(s) of constraint,  scale(s) of focus and scales(s) of components—used in the Interscalarity principle is reflective: it  reveals scalar interactions and interdependencies after the spatial configuration and composition of  URC elements have been understood. All in all, the four principles are meant to inform the design process by making the elements and  relations of the URC explicit. By identifying and incorporating the networks, spaces, synergies  and scales highlighted through these principles, the design process is better informed to create  affordances for social-ecological integration.  Urban design is a process, not a product, in which principles must respond to ever-evolving problems  and potentials. Thus, another challenge in defining and using design principles is that they must be  easily adaptable to local and real-world conditions while remaining generally applicable. Besides  the theoretical background elaborated in this chapter, the principles were distilled through design  iterations, shown in the four URC projects presented in Boxes 7.1-7.4. The projects were instrumental  in developing the principles in an exploratory way; thus, similar iterations and applications are  recommended for further knowledge on applicability and adaptability of the design principles to  different real-world URC conditions. § 7.5 Conclusion As put forward in this chapter, the assessment framework presented in Part 2 must be complemented  with a frame of how to achieve and discover potentials of social-ecological integration in URCs.  Even when projects lack the resources or the knowledge at hand to carry out an assessment, design  principles are useful to inform and guide the design process in an accessible way. Hence, this  chapter has developed a set of four principles for the design of social-ecologically integrated URCs— Interconnectedness, Absorptive Capacity, Social-Ecological Integration and Interscalarity—, derived  from the four key properties of URC elaborated in Section 2.2.6 and from the design explorations  presented in Boxes 7.1-7.4. Interconnectedness proposes a non-overlapping and reciprocally  supportive spatial configuration of the traffic network, water network, and ecological network of the  URC. Absorptive Capacity offers guidelines for increased capacity and quality of water space, social  space and green space in the URC. Social-Ecological Integration highlights conflicts and synergies  between the network elements and open space elements. Interscalarity reveals interactions and interdependencies between network- and spatial elements across scales of constraint, scales of focus  and scales of components in the elements. Are these principles useful for designers? Do they enable  or constrain the design process? Are they applied in the right order? Answers to such questions will be  sought in Chapter 8, in which the design principles, formulated as design instruments, are tested in a  workshop environment on the two URCs of Bucharest. TOC 223  Applying the Principles through Design Instruments 8 Applying the Principles through  Design Instruments § 8.1 Introduction The design principles put forward in Chapter 7—Interconnectedness, Absorptive Capacity, Social- Ecological Integration and Interscalarity—are meant to guide the design of social-ecologically  integrated URCs. The design instruments developed in this chapter, namely the Connector, the Sponge, the Integrator, and the Scaler, are proposed as means to implement those principles in the design  process (Figure 8.1). Hence, the objective of this chapter is to demonstrate how the design principles  can be applied in a real-world design assignment through design instruments and to report on how  the use of the instruments was tested. To that end, a design workshop was organized in Bucharest  between 4-10 March 2017, with the participation of an international group of M.Sc. students, Ph.D.  candidates and young professionals coming mainly from design-related disciplinary backgrounds. The chapter starts by defining the four design instruments in Section 8.2. Section 8.3 proceeds with  an explanation of the design workshop methodology, that is, the selection of the participants, the  description of the workshop set-up and the methods of data collection and analysis. Section 8.4  describes, analyses end evaluates the results as collected during the workshop (design process) and  delivered afterwards (final design and reflection on the process). Finally, Section 8.5 discusses the  refinements that have been made to the instruments as a result of the evaluation and reflects on the  methodological challenges encountered during the research. SUB-QUESTION AND OBJECTIVES: Sub-question 8: How do design instruments aid the design of social-ecologically integrated URCs? Objective 8.1: Develop a set of design instruments to apply the design principles of social-ecologically inte- grated URCs. Section 8.2 Objective 8.2: Demonstrate and test the design instruments on the URCs of Bucharest. Sections 8.3-8.5 TOC 224 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 8.1  The design instruments developed in this chapter (bottom right), represented in relation to the spatial-morphological definition of URCs  introduced in Section 2.3 (Figure 2.3): The Connector (in red); the Sponge (in green); the Integrator (in yellow); and the Scaler (in blue), including spatial  scales (s) and temporal scales (t). TOC 225  Design instruments § 8.2 Design instruments An instrument, defined as “a means whereby something is achieved, performed, or furthered” or  as an implement “designed for precision work” (Instrument, n.d.), can make the bridge from goal  to application.76 Accordingly, design instruments are employed in this thesis as means to apply the  design principles for social-ecologically integrated URCs through a certain way of approaching a design  assignment that responds to two essential questions: What key spatial elements and relations of URCs  should designers be aware of? And how can they address those elements and relations in their design  of or in URCs? The answer to the former question has already been given in the way the four design  principles were defined in Section 7.3. The design instruments proposed in what follows will attempt  to answer the latter in order to aid designers in building social-ecologically integrated URCs. FIGURE 8.2  Diagram of the instruments applied in the design process in two stages: revealing and relating the elemenets  of the URC. Thick lines represent the moment of focus on the instrument, thick dotted lines represent potential iterations on  the instrument together with the instrument from the same stage, thin dotted lines represent the implicit involvement of the  instrument in the design process. The set of instruments put forward below consists of the Connector, the Sponge, the Integrator, and the Scaler. In correspondence with to the definition of the design principles, the Connector and the Sponge address the elements of the URC, while the Integrator and the Scaler are used to establish the relations among those elements. As illustrated in Figure 8.1 and Figure 8.2, the four instruments  function as an interdependent set; therefore, one must consider them together when designing  in or for social-ecologically integrated URCs. The order in which they are presented in Figure 8.2  is the one recommended to be used in the design process. In Section 8.5, this recommendation is  further discussed. 76  Defined this way, an instrument is different from a tool. A tool has a specialised function and is used to carry out a particular task.  The distinction between these two terms is important in the context of design, as instruments are not meant to lead to a particular  outcome, but to aid the integration of a particular perspective in the design process. TOC 226 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 8.2.1 Revealing the elements of the URC The Connector and the Sponge are two instruments that deal with the configuration and the  composition of the spatial networks and open spaces of the URC, respectively. Both instruments read  urban space as a field of possibilities, in which potentials for movement (in the case of the Connector)  and for accommodating social-ecological processes spatially (in the case of the Sponge) are revealed.  The following sections describe the functions of these instruments in detail. The Connector The Connector is the design instrument used to apply the principle of Interconnectedness (Section  7.3.1). The Connector operates with the three networks of URCs: – the traffic network, which consists of roads and paths for movement at all speeds, including informal  networks such as desire paths typically found in peripheral or less urbanised segments of URCs; – the water network, including all the natural elements (e.g. tributaries, meanders) and rationalisations  (e.g. canals, dams, retention lakes) of the river network; – the ecological network, comprising corridors (e.g. tree lines, green buffers along roads or utility  networks) and habitat patches as stepping stones (e.g. parks, gardens, green roofs, green traffic  islands). Drawing on the current configuration of these networks, the Connector is used to highlight existing  elements, to reassign their role in the network (e.g. by downgrading or upgrading) or to add new  elements (missing links) as follows (Figure 8.3): – On the longitudinal dimension, main urban streets running outside and along the valley are assigned  as main lines of fast vehicular movement along the corridor (T1: the ‘fast lane’), releasing riverside  paths from the barrier caused by traffic, which in turn are connected to form a continuous line  accommodating slow mobility (T2: the ‘slow lane’). To facilitate the interaction between the city and  the river, key transversal links are selected where they connect a point of attraction on either the ‘slow  lane’ or the ‘fast lane’ or when they represent potential lines of crossing (T3). Vertical connectivity  is improved by designing points of contact with water (T4: pontoons, stairs, alleys, etc.), either in  locations of high accessibility and visibility (mostly at the intersection of a transversal link with  riverside paths) or in less accessible locations along the river. – Elements of the water network can be restored to improve hydrological and ecological connectivity.  Daylighting culverted tributaries (R1), restoring meanders (R2) and removing in-channel obstacles,  such as weirs and bridge piers, (R3) can improve longitudinal connectivity. Vertical connectivity is  achieved by restoring the interaction between the river and groundwater through a permeable river  bed (R4). – The ecological network can be enforced in two ways on the longitudinal dimension: with a continuous  riparian zone along the river (E1) and with a network of ecological patches acting as stepping stones  along the valley (E2). Ecological stepping stones, like transversal green corridors, also contribute to  lateral connectivity (E3). Vertical connectivity is enabled by gradients or ecotones between aquatic  habitats and the riparian zone along the river banks (E4). TOC 227  Revealing the elements of the URC FIGURE 8.3  The design instrument Connector and the key elements of the traffic network (T1-T4), water network (R1-R4), and  ecological network (E1-E4), illustrated in a generic URC segment. The Sponge The Sponge applies the principle of Absorptive Capacity (Section 7.3.2) by making an inventory of  all open spaces and amenities found in the URC and by highlighting potentials of increased spatial  capacity and attractiveness in the elements of social (public) space, ecological (green) space and water space (Figure 8.4): – Social space represents all outdoor and indoor spaces, regardless of ownership, that create the conditions for social interaction. An inventory of open spaces found in the corridor, as well as public  and semi-public functions at grade (the ‘ground floor’ of the URC; see Section 7.2), is made to identify  potential additions to public space. Potential riverside public spaces may include embankments  transformed into shared spaces (P1) and converted parking spaces (P2). Open spaces in the rest of the  corridor may be added to the network of public spaces (P3). Non-residential ground floor functions are  encouraged in the river space (P4). – Ecological space includes all public and private green spaces (e.g. parks, gardens, vegetated traffic  islands, infrastructure buffer zones). Green space can be potentially gained by renaturalising river  banks (G1), by creating wetlands and increasing vegetation cover in floodable areas (G2), and by  transforming non-vegetated open spaces, such as parking lots, brownfields (G3), or rooftops (G4). – Water space includes all spaces that are permanently or temporarily occupied by water (the river, lakes,  ponds, canals, wetlands and water storage facilities). It can be potentially extended by widening the  channel, by restoring former meanders (that is, increasing regular flow capacity) of the river (W1),  or by transforming riverside open spaces into floodable areas (that is, increasing the capacity of the  corridor to absorb floods; W2). These potentials are located within a buffer along the natural course  of the river. In addition, water storage and infiltration can be increased in the whole corridor with  vegetated and non-vegetated GBI solutions for water storage and infiltration (W3) and by increasing  the perviousness of pavements (W4). These functions are not exclusive. On the contrary, combinations of the three functions are sought.  For instance, pervious surfaces can contribute to reducing the amount of storm water runoff. Or,  accessible green spaces can become attractive public spaces. TOC 228 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 8.4  The design instrument Sponge and the key elements of social (public) space (P1-P4), water space (W1-W4), and  ecological (green) space (G1-G4), illustrated in a generic URC segment. § 8.2.2 Relating the elements of the URC Both the Integrator and the Scaler are reflective, relational and strategic. They are reflective in the  way they reveal relations that are (or, in terms of the design process, have already been) implicit in  the application of the Connector and the Sponge (Figure 8.2). They are relational in their focus on  identifying and targeting key relations among spatial or topological elements. They are strategic, as  they highlight spaces with the highest potential for intervention. The Integrator Used to apply the principle of Social-Ecological Integration (Section 7.3.3), the Integrator highlights conflicts and synergies between the social and ecological elements of the URC. To that end, the Integrator is used to identify potentials for multifunctionality, hybridity, complementarity and  reciprocity between the network elements revealed by the Connector, between the open spaces highlighted by the Sponge, and between the elements of the Connector and the Sponge (Figure 8.5): – Although the non-conflicting spatial configuration of the network elements proposed under the Connector establishes a synergic social-ecological relationship, the Integrator further reveals potential conflicts at the intersection of different network elements, such as the spatial overlap between a  restored meander and an important transversal street (C1), and potential synergies, such as the  combination of a slow mobility route with a riverside green corridor (S1). – By increasing the spatial capacity of the URC through multifunctional open spaces, the Sponge also contributes to integration. The Integrator further identifies synergies where, for example, the potential  for multifunctional open spaces is combined with high diversity of public functions at grade (S2).  Similarly, conflicts are identified, for instance, where increased open space perviousness would hinder  the multifunctional use of public space (C2). TOC 229  Relating the elements of the URC – Finally, the Integrator highlights synergies and conflicts between spatial elements of connectivity  and open spaces. The spatial configuration highlighted by the Sponge can provide knowledge on  potential social and ecological connections, while the interconnected spatial networks assembled by  the Connector can indicate where more open space is needed. Synergies can be found, for example,  in new public spaces that were made more accessible by new connections to the river (S3) or in  non-vegetated open spaces that could become stepping stones in the ecological network of the URC.  A conflict can be identified where the ecological qualities of a green space are affected by a traffic  corridor acting as a barrier to species’ movement (C3). FIGURE 8.5  The design instrument Integrator addressing conflicts (C1-C3) and synergies (S1-S3), illustrated in a generic  URC segment. All in all, the Integrator makes these relations explicit and aids the designer or planner in selecting  the spaces of strategic importance in the URC or in devising strategic actions that can have a positive  impact on the scale of the URC. Box 8.1 shows an example of strategic actions that had been distilled  from the analysis of conflicts and synergies between the social, rational and ecological elements of  URC Someșul Mic in Cluj-Napoca, Romania (see project description in Box 7.3). TOC 230 Integrated Urban River Corridors BOx 8.1 Strategic actions for URC Someșul Mic in Cluj-Napoca, Romania As part of the project “Someș turns its face to the city” presented in Box 7.3, the following sections have been  developed in response to the conflicts and synergies identified between the three scenarios used in the project (Social  Someș, Ecological Someș and Rational Someș). These generic sections represent strategic actions, which are either  replicable along the urban river corridor or are inserted in key locations. This set of actions emerged from the specificity  of the project and context in which they were developed. Nevertheless, it serves as an example of how elements of the Connector (e.g. rock ramps, cantilevered bike paths), the Sponge (e.g. room for the river—slope, ecotone—wetland, or  mixed-use waterfront), and the Integrator (e.g. waterside green event space) can be translated into concrete actions. TOC 231  Relating the elements of the URC FIGURE 8.6  Generic sections of strategic actions employed in the project “Someș turns its face to the city” (Box 7.3). TOC 232 Integrated Urban River Corridors The Scaler The Scaler implements the principle of Interscalarity (Section 7.3.4) and addresses two aspects: (1) it  establishes or reflects on the scalar framework of the project; and (2) it identifies interdependencies  across spatial scales and path dependencies or historical ‘clues’ across temporal scales. – Guided by the spatial-morphological definition of URCs (Figure 8.8), the scales of constraint, scales of focus and scales of components of the design are identified and described on the scalar framework  shown in Figure 8.7. – The major river catchment (S1) and the metropolitan area (S2) are typically scales of constraint.  Catchment-scale constraints include river discharge patterns or geomorphological conditions, while  metropolitan-scale constraints are related to human activities, such as commuting patterns. If the  scale of focus is lower on the spectrum shown in Figure 8.6, constraints can be found on the scale of  the URC and corridor segment too.  – The current situation and potentials at the scales of focus (URC and URC segment) have been  described with the Connector and the Scaler. Depending on the design assignment, the focus (i.e.  the targeted problem or potential) may be located anywhere between the metropolitan scale and the  river space scale. The site scale is not included as a scale of focus, as the outcomes of any intervention  should be beneficial on the scale of the URC. – The scale of components, representing the level of detail of the design, can range from the scale of the  URC to the scale of the individual site. A typical scale of components is that of the river space (S3 and S4), in which actions on the scale of the URC are demonstrated or tested. The scale of the individual  site may be relevant in interventions located outside of the river space. – In addition, the Scaler takes into consideration the temporal dynamics of spatial configurations  and compositions found in the Connector and in the Sponge. Historical knowledge of the spatial  configuration of the urban fabric before the alteration of the river corridor (T1) can provide insights  for improving connectivity. Knowledge of past spatial compositions, configurations and dynamics of  the river corridor in a pre-disturbance state (T2) can shed light on possibilities for river restoration or  rehabilitation in design. FIGURE 8.7  The spectrum of scales of constraint, focus, and components used by the design instrument Sponge. The Scaler can be used to determine the relative importance and impact of the elements revealed  by the Connector and the Sponge across scales. For instance, the Scaler can reveal how a certain link  added with the Connector influences the networks of the URC. An example for this would be the  transformation of riverside thoroughfares, relevant for city-scale vehicular transport network, into slow  mobility routes makes the river space more compatible with pedestrian movement on local scale. TOC 233  Workshop methodology FIGURE 8.8  The Scaler reflects on the spatial (S) and temporal (T) scalar framework of the design project by referring to the spatial- morphological definition of URCs. It considers two large-scale constraints, the river catchment (S1), the metropolitan area (S2),  and two different conditions at the scale of the river space (S3 and S4) corresponding to the Connector and the Sponge. In addition, two temporal scales reveal the historical patterns of urban morphology in relation to the river valley (T1), and past river corridor  dynamics (T2). § 8.3 Workshop methodology The design instruments defined in Section 8.2 have been developed through iterative design processes  undertaken as part of four design projects dealing with URCs. Formulated initially as an outcome of  the projects presented in Boxes 7.1-7.4, the design instruments were evaluated in an intensive design  workshop by a larger group of designers. The design workshop was chosen as a research methodology  for demonstrating and testing the use of the four design instruments on the URCs of Bucharest. This  TOC 234 Integrated Urban River Corridors approach is especially suitable for research designs addressing complex real-world situations—such  as the case study design adopted in this thesis—, in which a more inductive (or abductive) approach is  needed. In general, workshops can be employed in three ways (Ørngreen & Levinsen, 2017): as means  to achieve a particular goal; as practice, with focus on their form and outcomes; or as research  methodology. The perspective adopted in this study is the workshops as research methodology, an  approach that is, “on one hand, authentic, as it aims to fulfil participants’ expectations to achieve  something related to their own interests. On the other hand, the workshop is specifically designed to  fulfil a research purpose: to produce reliable and valid data about the domain in question […] regarding  forward-oriented processes, such as […] design. The findings feed back into the domain theory, the  methodology, and/or the practices regarding future agency” (Ørngreen & Levinsen, 2017, pp. 72–73). Design workshops, in particular, can be defined as activity-based collaborative work used to educate  designers, to facilitate participation in the design process, to generate solutions to a design problem,  or to test methods and techniques of design. With a focus on testing, but also involving problem- solving and education, the design workshop for the URCs of Bucharest was set up to facilitate the  collection and analysis of data on the usage of the proposed instruments. Moreover, the competitive  and intensive nature of the workshop, with the involvement of a careful selection of trained designers,  was considered to be a fruitful and stimulating environment for the development of creative solutions  for social-ecologically integrated URCs in Bucharest. § 8.3.1 Selection of participants The design workshop was intended for 32 participants, that is, 4 teams of 4 on each river corridor  (4 teams x 4 participants x 2 corridors). Out of the 32 places, 8 post-master students from Delft  University of Technology were pre-selected and the remaining 24 places were occupied upon a call  for applications open for young professionals, master students and doctoral candidates in the fields  of urban design, planning, landscape architecture, and architecture, who were either familiar with the  context of Bucharest or had prior experience in similar topics. In consideration of transdisciplinarity,  young professionals or students from other disciplines were also encouraged to submit their  application. The call for applications was launched online in December 2016 on a website dedicated  to the workshop.77 The application (see full procedure in Appendix A) consisted of a CV, letter of  motivation and a work sample. The selection of the 24 participants was carried out by the workshop  organising committee at TU Delft, in consultation with the Faculty of Urbanism at UAUIM, from a total  of 41 eligible applications. As shown in Table 8.1, the majority of the selected participants came from  design-related fields, with only 4 participants representing other domains (see full list of participants  in Appendix G). 77  https://urcb.weblog.tudelft.nl/ (Accessed on 25.03.2018) TOC 235  Workshop set-up TABLE 8.1  Participants in the workshop by selection procedure, level of expertise and discipline. SELECTION PROCEDURE AND LEVEL OF EXPERTISE DISCIPLINES Pre-selected: -    8 post-master students (PM) Selected based on application: -   10 master students (M) -   3 PhD candidates (P) -   11 young professionals (YP) Designers: -   13 architects (a), incl. 1 economist (ae) and 1 visual artist (va) -   7 architects/urbanists (au) -   1 landscape architect/urbanist (lau) -   6 urbanists (u) incl. 1 structural engineer/urban mobility profes- sional (sem) -   3 landscape architects (la) Non-designers: -   1 biologist/ geographer/ ecologist (bge) -   1 geographer (g) The number of places was determined in such a way that a sufficient number of sites (4 sites per  corridor) would cover most of the different urban conditions along the corridor and the teams  were large enough to allow for diverse but well negotiated design proposals to emerge (4 members  per team). The composition of the teams was established according to (1) the preference of the  participants for one of the two corridors expressed during the application procedure, (2) prior  experience on one of the sites; and (3) a good disciplinary mix within the teams (Table 8.2). TABLE 8.2  Distribution of the participants in the teams of Colentina (C1-C4) and Dâmbovița (D1-D4), by level of expertise and  disciplinary background. TEAM C1 TEAM C2 TEAM C3 TEAM C4 TEAM D1 TEAM D2 TEAM D3 TEAM D4 PM/au PM/au PM/au PM/au PM/au PM/au PM/lau PM/au M/a YP/a YP/u YP/a YP/g YP/a,va M/a M/a M/u YP/a M/u YP/la M/a M/u,sem M/a P/u P/bge M/u YP/a YP/a,ae M/la P/la YP/a YP/a § 8.3.2 Workshop set-up As shown in Figure 8.9, a one-week intensive program was set up to include site visits (two days), the  design workshop (Days 1-4), and final presentations and evaluation of the outcomes (Day 5). Apart  from the site visits and the evening lectures,78 all workshop activities took place in a workshop space  located on the bank of River Dâmbovița in Bucharest. The workshop was relatively self-contained,  i.e. it did not require prior preparation nor subsequent work from the participants, except the  post-workshop evaluation and reflection sketches. Besides the sessions dedicated to instrument  testing and design, the site visits, seminars and lectures provided knowledge about the context and  inspiration from current urban and landscape design practice related to the themes tackled in the  workshop. All these were considered necessary sources of knowledge for the design process and for the  quality of the output. 78  The evening lectures were open to the public and took place in a lecture hall at UAUIM. TOC 236 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 8.9  Workshop process (For a detailed calendar, see Appendix H). Site visits Before the start of the workshop, two site visits, one for each corridor, were organized along URC  Colentina and URC Dâmbovița. This allowed the participants to get a sense of the URCs prior to  engaging with design activity or the approach put forward in the workshop. In order to provide  background information and an overview of key issues, local experts were invited to guide the site  tours and an introductory lecture was given about the entire corridor. As shown in Figure 8.10,  the participants were instructed to observe and record four aspects of the site that would be later discussed in the workshop: connections, open spaces, ecology, and people’s relation to the river. FIGURE 8.10  Pages from the site visit handout with the route and the assignment given during the site visit on URC Colentina. TOC 237  Workshop set-up Seminars and lectures Each of the four workshop days (Days 1-4) consisted of a morning seminar (Figure 8.11) preceding  the instrument application session, in which local experts gave input on the theme of the day—spatial  morphology (Day 1), water and the city (Day 2), social-ecological integration (Day 3), and scales of the  city (Day 4)—in relation to the URCs of Bucharest. In addition, a series of public lectures were given  in the evenings of Days 1-3 by international guests and local experts in order to further inform and  inspire the participants and to engage with the public on the themes tackled in the workshop. FIGURE 8.11  Seminar on the Day 3 of the workshop. Photo credit: Sebastian Apostol. Instrument sessions The daily instrument application sessions started with a theoretical introduction and instructions on  the use of the instrument, also provided in a handout (Figure 8.12). Next, the participants applied the  instruments on their sites, first individually and then in a group. This way, the variation in individual  applications of the instruments could be recorded for further analysis (see Section 8.3.3) and the  participants could discuss differences and similarities. Large format base maps and transparent paper  (Figure 8.13) were provided for the instrument application and for the design sessions. TOC 238 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 8.12  The handouts containing the theoretical introduction and instructions for the daily instrument training sessions (see  example of a handout in Appendix I). FIGURE 8.13  Base maps used for the application of the Connector and the Sponge (left) and for the Integrator (right) on site D3  (See this example enlarged in Appendix J).  TOC 239  Workshop set-up Design sessions The afternoons were dedicated to design sessions, during which participants developed their design  proposals under the guidance of guest tutors from TU Delft and from the Faculty of Urbanism of “Ion  Mincu” University of Architecture and Urbanism, Bucharest. To further test the usefulness of the  instruments, the design sessions were not constrained by the results of the instrument application  sessions; the participants had the freedom to choose not to use the instruments in their proposal. A number of exercises were organized during the design sessions to aid the design process. In the  collage exercise (Figure 8.14, top left), carried out on Day 1, participants were asked to formulate a  vision by combining photos taken as part of the site visit assignment. The daily 'Scale up!' sessions  (Figure 8.14, bottom left and right) brought the teams of each corridor together to discuss the  implications of local interventions for the entire corridor. A model for each corridor was used to  facilitate negotiation and the representation of corridor-wide strategies. These sessions were later useful for the construction of the scalar framework with the Scaler. On Day 5 the design proposals were  presented in front of an international jury, which gave two prizes, one to a team of each corridor. FIGURE 8.14  The collage exercise (top left) and Scale up! session (bottom left and right). Photo credits: Sebastian Apostol (left,  top), Lucian Ștefan Călugărescu (left, bottom), Johanna Jacob (right). TOC 240 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 8.3.3 Data collection In order to evaluate the design workshop and the use of the instruments, a multi-method approach was used to collect data during the design workshop, with an emphasis on how the participants  understood the principles and used the instruments. In this multi-method approach, the work of the  participants and the design process was recorded and evaluated from three angles: – External observation: an unstructured observation of the participants by an observer who was not  involved in the design process. The observer took notes and shared their observation after the  workshop. – Internal evaluation: a structured, paper-based questionnaire (see Appendix K) was filled in by  the participants at the end of each workshop day to evaluate the instrument of the day. After  the workshop, the participants filled in an online questionnaire (see Appendix M) to evaluate  retrospectively the whole instrument set. – Workshop results: the design projects were recorded on standardised formats, with base maps at  the same scales and a written project description to allow for further analysis and comparisons in  evaluation (see Appendix O). An external jury of experts evaluated the projects and submitted an  evaluation report. In addition, qualitative aspects of the design process and the behaviour of the participants was  recorded through filmed interviews. Each team was interviewed about the instruments, the design  process, group dynamics, and their overall impression about the workshop (see Appendix N).  § 8.3.4 Data analysis and interpretation The responses from the daily evaluation forms were summarized (see example of a daily summary  table in Appendix L), as follows: – Summary statistics: mean and standard deviation of values recorded in 10-point Likert scale  questions, to show overall scores and agreement; – Content analysis of the open-ended questions to identify themes and to order them according to the  number of occurrences across the sample. Data from post-workshop evaluation was collected and summarized in a similar way with the online  surveying platform Qualtrics. Finally, the drawings produced in the workshop were examined to evaluate the use and impact of the  instruments in the development of the proposals. TOC 241 Results § 8.4 Results Data collection was carried out successfully, with an overall high response rate to the evaluation forms  filled in during and after the workshop (Table 8.3). TABLE 8.3  Evaluation response rate (percentage of a total of 32 participants). INSTRUMENT DAILY EVALUATION (PAPER-BASED) POST-WORKSHOP EVALUATION (ONLINE) The Connector 97%   (31/32 – Day 1) 90% (29/32 – within 3 weeks from the completion  of the workshop)The Sponge 100%   (32/32 – Day 2) The Integrator 100%   (32/32 – Day 3) The Scaler 84%   (28/32 – Day 4) In the following pages, the application of the instruments is presented in response to the questions  listed in Table 8.4. Each instrument is described in terms of (1) ease of use, (2) usefulness, (3)  influence on the design, and (4) suggested improvements, as reported by the participants in the daily  evaluation forms. The instrument set is evaluated regarding (1) the order in which the instruments are  applied in the design process, (2) the relative attractiveness of the instruments, (3) the completeness  of the set, (4) and suggested improvements. TABLE 8.4  Data sources used to analyse and interpret the workshop results. QUESTION DATA SOURCE D ai ly e va lu at io n (p ap er -b as ed ) Po st -w or ks h op ev al u at io n (o n lin e) D es ig n p ro je ct s In te rv ie w s Co rr id or s ke tc h es Instruments in the design process I1: How easily can the instruments be applied in designing (in) URCs? x x I2: How useful are the instruments in designing (in) URCs? x x I3: To what extent does the use of the instruments lead to results which would otherwise not be achieved? x x x x x I4: How can the design instruments be improved? x x Instrument set in the design process S1: In what order, if any, should the instruments be applied in the design process? x S2: How do the instruments rank in terms of attractiveness and why? x S3: Should any of the four instruments be left out? If so, which one and why? x S4: Is there something missing from the instrument set? x S5: How can the instrument set be improved? x Outcome of the design process x x x TOC 242 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 8.4.1 The instruments in the design process The Connector FIGURE 8.15  The Connector applied on site C1-Lake Grivița: individual attempts (left and right), followed by a common drawing (centre). The Connector was the first instrument introduced in the workshop. As shown in Figure 8.15, the Connector was presented in the workshop with three elements: the explorer, which highlights the main urban structure parallel to the river; the enforcer, which follows the edge of the river as closely  as possible and in a continuous way; and the gatherer, which is a transversal link that connects the  two other components following important transversal links. Although its definition given during the  introduction was initially confusing, the Connector turned out to be intuitive and easy to use once the  participants started to apply it. In retrospect, the participants evaluated the Connector as easy to use  (Figure 8.16). Table 8.5 provides a summary of how the participants evaluated the Connector, along with a set of suggestions for improvement. The most appreciated aspect of the Connector was that it helped the participants quickly and better understand the site and the structure of the surrounding urban  fabric. On the other hand, it was stated that it is difficult to apply in dense urban areas. Also, there  were ambivalent opinions regarding the abstractness, simplicity and flexibility of the Connector. Another important remark was that the instrument tends to encourage the connection of everything  with everything. In this sense, the representation of barriers, as suggested by a participant, or  disconnection as a quality should be incorporated in the definition of the Connector. As stated in the suggestions for improvement, a more detailed description of the elements of the  instrument and the way they function, with examples, would improve the way the Connector is used. Moreover, further clarity in the definition and naming of the elements would allow for greater  application and understanding of the Connector. A particular element that could be better defined was  the node, i.e. the interaction between elements. TOC 243  The instruments in the design process TABLE 8.5  Evaluation of the Connector by the workshop participants. LIKED DISLIKED – It is very useful to understand the site and the structure of the urban fabric. –  It is widely applicable. –  It is a good way to start a project. –  It is an abstraction that clarifies. –  It is simple and intuitive. –  It gives a lot of freedom to interpretation. –  It is both practical and theoretical. –  The explorer was difficult to use on Bucharest’s messy urban  fabric. – It is difficult to apply in a dense urban fabric. –  It tends to encourage connecting everything. –  It is too abstract. –  It is too simplistic. –  It is vague and unfinished. –  The naming is confusing. SUGGESTIONS FOR IMPROVEMENT –  Be more explicit about the interaction between the three elements. –  Improve the description of the elements and give examples of how the instrument should be used. –  Improve the names. –  Detail the classification of the elements. –  Add representation of barriers. –  Elaborate more on the consistency of the elements. –  Consider that the elements can be surfaces and masses, not just lines. –  Specify the nature of connectivity: ecological, transport, etc. FIGURE 8.16  The difficulty of applying the three functions of the instrument Connector, as perceived by the workshop participants. TOC 244 Integrated Urban River Corridors The Sponge FIGURE 8.17  Two examples of how the Sponge was applied: team D4, Lake Văcărești (left) and team C2, Lake Herăstrău (right). The Sponge was applied by the participants on the satellite base map to extract open spaces and to  identify possible continuities between patches (see examples in Figure 8.17). As stated during the  interviews, it was the most preferred instrument, because it was easy to use, and it was the least  abstract. Also, as pointed out by several respondents in the post-workshop evaluation (Table 8.6),  it was helpful to reveal areas of hidden potential. On the other hand, a few participants considered it over-simplified and insufficiently informed in terms of ecology. Overall, the three functions of the  instrument were considered easy to apply (Figure 8.18). The most important suggestions for improvement pointed out (1) that an additional layer of legal  boundaries could be added to clarify the relation and application of the Sponge with legal and property  boundaries, (2) the importance of the multi-functionality of patches, (3) the importance of detailed  ecological criteria in addition to the information from the satellite map, and (4) the need for a scalar  framework with a clearly defined hierarchy of patches. The importance of a correlation of the patches  with the natural trajectory of the river, anticipating the use of geomorphology with the Integrator, was also mentioned. TOC 245  The instruments in the design process TABLE 8.6  Evaluation of the Sponge by the participants after the workshop. LIKED DISLIKED –  It is easy to use. –  It is very useful. –  It is helpful to determine open spaces. –  It reveals areas of hidden potential. –  It reveals green-blue structures. –  It is helpful to understand the urban fabric in the corridor. –  The ecological potential of working with patches. –  It shows the relationship between the city and water. –  The name/concept. –  It is helpful in formulating a strategy. –  The possibility of a continuous corridor of connected patches. (11/32 responses did not dislike anything) –  It is difficult to differentiate between space for water, ecologi- cal patches and public space. –  It is not realistic to map private spaces. –  It tends to be over-simplified to a green sponge. –  It is too top-down for a proper ecological understanding. –  It is not clear how it informs the design. –  More sub-classes required. –  It requires landscape architecture knowledge. –  The name is too abstract. –  It is simplistic. –  It is difficult to determine the scale of the Sponge. SUGGESTIONS FOR IMPROVEMENT –  Specify in the introduction how the Sponge relates to ownership (private land can be used too). –  Explain better with examples of how the Sponge is used. –  Allow for multi-functional patches. –  Add sub-classes. –  Include interior public spaces (for this, a satellite map is not sufficient). –  Make the link with design clearer. –  Add a hierarchy to the patches. –  Take the historical trajectory of the river into consideration when identifying space for water. –  Specify the scale of the Sponge. –  Allow for flexibility in the patches. –  Add more detailed criteria for ecological identification. FIGURE 8.18  The difficulty of applying the three functions of the instrument Sponge, as perceived by the workshop participants. TOC 246 Integrated Urban River Corridors The Integrator FIGURE 8.19  An example of how the Integrator was used to overlap the Connector and the Sponge on a base map of geomorphology  – Lake Grivița, team C1. As summarized in Table 8.7, the Integrator was found essential, but also redundant by some  participants, as it was already applied naturally in the previous step with the Sponge and the Connector. The addition of the layer of geomorphology, however, made it a separate and more  difficult step. As shown in Figure 8.20, the work with geomorphology was the most difficult part of the Integrator. Among the main suggestions for improvement were (1) the introduction of knowledge on  geomorphology earlier in the design process, and (2) a better way to assess and illustrate the outcome  of the Integrator, perhaps by using an abstract grid to aggregate and assess spaces of strategic  integration. TOC 247  The instruments in the design process TABLE 8.7  Evaluation of the Integrator by the participants after the workshop. LIKED DISLIKED –  The superimposition with geomorphology. –  It is easy to use. –  The superimposition of the previous two layers. –  It was naturally the next step. –  It helped to identify the potential of an area and strategic  spaces. –  The work with geomorphology. –  Unclear relation to with the design. –  Just overlapping is not sufficient. –  The integrator was redundant. –  It is hard to apply in a messy city like Bucharest. –  It’s not common practice. SUGGESTIONS FOR IMPROVEMENT –  Work with geomorphology earlier. –  Add more layers to overlap and more steps to discover integration. –  Find a way to illustrate the outcomes of the assignment. –  Make a clearer link between analytical instruments and design. –  Consider adding an abstract grid to control the scale and to assess the potential for integration. FIGURE 8.20  The difficulty of applying the three functions of the instrument Integrator, as perceived by the workshop participants. TOC 248 Integrated Urban River Corridors The Scaler FIGURE 8.21  The Scaler applied by team C3 – Lake Fundeni. The Scaler was introduced as an instrument of reflection. The designer evaluates the scales used  implicitly in the design process and categorizes them in scales of context, focus and detail, in order to  clarify the effects of their proposal. Figure 8.21 is an example of how one of the teams used the list of  levels of scale to identify potentials and problems across scales. This instrument is different from the  other three, because it highlights aspects of the proposal that have already been addressed implicitly  during the design process. The participants found this instrument the most difficult to apply and confusing (Figure 8.22). As  shown in Table 8.8, most of the confusion regarding the Scaler was caused by the fact that it was  already addressed as part of the other instruments, it was used too late, and the terminology was  vague. On the other hand, it helped the participants to further connect their proposals to the scale of the whole corridor, to adopt a holistic perspective, or to adjust the proposals to the human scales. The  main suggestions for improvement included a better connection to the other instruments, employ it  earlier in the process, illustrate it with examples, and integrate it in the other instruments. TOC 249  The instruments in the design process TABLE 8.8  Evaluation of the Scaler by the workshop participants. LIKED DISLIKED –  The scaler helped in linking the site to the corridor. –  It encourages work across scales. –  It is useful for the project. –  It was useful in identifying the problems. –  It was easy to use. (see difficulty assessment) –  It was natural to use. –  It provided a holistic perspective. –  It helped organizing the proposal. –  It provided a different perspective. –  It was a new layer. –  It drew attention to the human scale. –  It was already addressed in the previous days. –  It came too late. –  The Scale Up! session did not work. –  The integration between teams working on the same corridor  did not happen. –  It was difficult. (see difficulty assessment) –  It is subjective. –  The terminology was vague. –  There wasn’t enough time. SUGGESTIONS FOR IMPROVEMENT –  Find a way to represent it graphically. –  It should not be a separate step, but part of all previous ones. –  Give an example when explaining the instrument. –  It should be earlier in the process. –  Clarify that certain elements can be multi-scalar. –  Connect it better to the other tools. –  Clarify the rules. –  Easier to use on a larger scale. –  Include the scale of the whole city to the analysis. FIGURE 8.22  The difficulty of applying the three functions of the instrument Scalar, as perceived by the participants after the  workshop. TOC 250 Integrated Urban River Corridors The instrument set In the ranking of the four instruments according to the preference of the participants, as reported in  the post-workshop evaluation and in the interviews (see Appendix N), the Sponge scored the highest, followed by the Connector and the Integrator, while the Scaler was the less preferred instrument  (Figure 8.23). This can be explained by the level of abstraction of the instruments, as there seems to  be a higher preference for the least abstract (the Sponge and the Connector) and a lower preference for  the most abstract ones (the Integrator and the Scaler). Different from the other instruments, the Scaler scored high on both the 1st position (10 responses) and on the 4th (11 responses). This indicates that  the instrument was considered interesting, but more difficult to understand than the other three. FIGURE 8.23  Ranking of the four instruments according to the preference of the respondents. 1 represents the highest preference  and 4 represents the lowest preference in the rank order. TABLE 8.9  Summary of the scores and level of agreement on the ease of use and usefulness of the four instruments. THE CONNECTOR THE SPONGE THE INTEGRATOR THE SCALER Ease of use MEAN 8,79 8,48 8,41 8,96 STDEV 1,01 1,49 1,48 1,20 Usefulness MEAN 8,64 8,13 8,26 8,70 STDEV 1,20 1,70 1,64 1,21 The daily workshop evaluation, however, reveals some additional aspects related to the usefulness  of these instruments. What stands out in Table 8.9 is that there is less agreement and lower average  TOC 251  The instruments in the design process scores on the ease of use and usefulness of the Sponge and the Integrator. This is especially surprising  for the Sponge, which was reported as one of the favourite instruments during the interviews. When asked whether any of the four instruments can be left out, more than half of the participants (15  out of 28) answered that all instruments are useful and should be kept. The rest of the respondents  considered that one of the two least preferred instruments—the Scaler or the Integrator—can be  discarded. Some participants (7 out of 28) considered that the Scaler can be left out, because (1) it can  be integrated with the other instruments, (2) it can be merged with the Integrator, or because (3) it  is too different from the others. Others (6 out of 28) suggested that the Integrator should be left out,  because (1) it can be merged with the Scaler, (2) it was the least used instrument, (3) it was the most  disconnected from the design, (4) the superimposition was anyway obvious, or (5) because it was  redundant following the first two instruments. In the third question, asking whether there is something missing from the set of instruments,  respondents mentioned the following aspects: the social dimension, underground (invisible)  infrastructure, perception and quality, urban morphology, administrative aspects, practical use,  barriers, or a more detailed (sub-)classification. Overall, the order of the instruments, as presented in the workshop, was considered to be correct.  As shown in Figure 8.24, this is very clear for the Connector and for the Sponge. However, even if on  average it was considered the least preferred, the Scaler had a high number of responses positioning it  as the most preferred. Also, the Integrator scored the highest on the third and the last position, but, as the Scaler was positioned on the 4th, the Integrator remained on the 3rd position. FIGURE 8.24  The order of the instruments as proposed by the participants. TOC 252 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 8.4.2 The design projects At the end of the design workshop, the eight projects were evaluated by an international jury according  to five criteria: communication, methodological coherence, social-ecological integration, scalability  and level of completion (Appendix P), and two best projects (one for each corridor) were selected. The project “From Barrier to Link” on site D2 of URC Dâmbovița (Figure 8.25, top) was selected by the  jury due to its good use of local potentials, its coherent strategy, and scalability. As stated in the project  description (Appendix O), interventions in the key sites identified by the team along Dâmbovița aim  for a positive impact on connectivity, attractiveness, integration and on the quality of the URC as a  whole through replicable interventions in the form of floating platforms (the Sponge: extra public  space in the river space). The team identified the conflict between riverside traffic and pedestrian  accessibility to the river and proposed a three-phased strategy to overcome the barrier caused by  riverside traffic. Although this problem has been addressed, the jury considered that a better overview  of systemic issues (i.e. interdependencies across scales), mainly related to traffic and alternative  modes of transport, could have been further developed in the project. On URC Colentina, the project “Amphibious Communities of Fundeni Lake” (Figure 8.25, bottom) was  selected by both the jury and the participants as one of the best projects. Building on the exceptional  ecological qualities of Lake Fundeni and on the problems and potential of a socially disadvantaged  community occupying its shores, team C3 devised a community-based social-ecological strategy, in  which bottom-up initiatives combined with natural restoration goals were encouraged (Appendix O).  This way, the team aimed for a more “symbiotic” (i.e. integrated) relation between the community  and the river. The jury appreciated this holistic approach, but also pointed out the need for a better  definition of the spatial outcomes of the project. In this project, the Sponge, as well as transversal accessibility revealed by the Connector, have played a role in identifying the spaces of social-ecological  interaction. In addition, “Linking Park” by team D4 (Figure 8.26) was voted by the public (participants and guests)  and appreciated by the jury for the quality of the visualisations, revealing spatial details at several  scales, and for the use of the Sponge interlaced with the Connector in a strategic way. Making use of  the abundance of open space around and inside the delta landscape of Lake Văcărești, an abandoned  retention lake in the valley of Dâmbovița, and acknowledging the contrast between the total absence  of traffic inside the lake and the traffic barrier that cuts the river from the delta, team D4 proposed  a social-ecological buffer zone around the lake and ecological stepping stones and connections  towards the surrounding urban areas. This way, the project made a gradual transition across the edge  of the lake, softening barriers with a gradient of slow connections and social-ecological spaces, but  preserving the contrast between the city and the ecological richness of the delta. TOC 253  The design projects FIGURE 8.25  The projects “From Barrier to Link” by team D2 on URC Dâmbovița and “Amphibious Communities of Lake Fundeni” by team C3 on URC  Colentina, selected by the Jury as the best projects in the workshop. TOC 254 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE 8.26  “Linking Park” (site D4), voted as the best projects by the workshop participants, as well as by the public and the guests invited to the  final presentation.     Overall, the projects developed in the workshop (Appendix O) made use of the instruments, while  gaining depth and developing creative strategies and design ideas in a short time. As pointed out by  some participants in the interviews (Appendix N), the Connector was helpful in understanding of the complex spatial configuration of the site. The Sponge was the most liked instrument, because it helped  the participants in identifying spaces with potential to connect people and nature. Although perceived  as more abstract, the Integrator and the Scaler were considered by some teams useful in taking  strategic decisions across scales and depicting points of challenge (i.e. conflicts and synergies) where  social-ecological integration can respond to local problems. § 8.5 Discussion As noted in the introduction, the design workshop has been employed to demonstrate and to test  the application of the four design instruments in a real-world context. As discussed below, this  set-up led to a number of insights regarding the use of the instruments and posed a number of  methodological challenges. TOC 255  The use of the instruments § 8.5.1 The use of the instruments The results presented in Section 8.4 are related to the design as a process (Section 8.4.1) and to  design as an outcome of the process (Section 8.4.2). Internal evaluation (evaluation forms) and  external interpretation (interviews and design projects) of the use of instruments have refined the way  the instruments can be employed in the design process. These refinements have been incorporated in  the process diagram shown in Figure 8.2. First, the order in which the instruments were applied in the workshop has been questioned by some  participants. It was noted that the Scaler should have been used earlier in the process. The purpose of the Scaler, however, was to postpone the decision on a scalar framework to a later stage, so that the  problem and systems at hand are analysed in an unbounded way. So, instead of changing the order of  the instruments, the Scaler was clarified as present in the whole process and that the scalar framework  may be revised in different stages of the design process (see Figure 8.2). The Integrator was similarly  found confusing to apply in the sequence of in instruments. Some participants even questioned its  usefulness, as the overlap between the Connector and the Sponge was anyway obvious or implicit.  However, as presented in Section 8.2, the use of the Integrator is meant to make relations—i.e.  synergies and conflicts—explicit. The definition of the Integrator, as presented in Section 8.2, clarifies  this aspect. Second, it became clear that the Connector and the Sponge are different from the Integrator and the Scaler. It is visible both in the design proposals and in the evaluations that the former two are  more tangible and easy to understand, whereas the latter two are more abstract and more difficult  to understand. Thus, the former two have been specified as instruments that reveal elements of the  URC, while the latter two have been defined as instruments addressing the relations between those  elements. These observation, along with more general suggestions distilled from the analyses of the workshop  results (Table 8.10) is expected to improve the usability of the four instruments in future applications. TABLE 8.10  Suggestions for improvement applicable to all instruments. - Provide a more detailed introduction and explanation of the instruments. - Give examples to illustrate the use of the instrument. - Simplify the naming. The naming needs to be supported with graphical information. This way, the instrument will be less  abstract and easier to understand. - Provide a clear scalar framework for the application of the instrument. - Specify whether the instruments highlight existing and/or potential aspects of the urban environment. § 8.5.2 Methodological challenges Given the challenges of the design workshop as a research methodology, and, hence, its influence  on the outcomes, this chapter requires a separate discussion of research quality (i.e. validity and  reliability). Factors such as the subjectivity of decisions taken in the design process, biases, the  TOC 256 Integrated Urban River Corridors experience of participants as designers, and the roles assumed by the researcher can have a significant  impact on the results. Although these limitations remain to a certain extent, some counter measures  were included in the methodology. First, the involvement of the researchers in the design process was  minimal. Using Ørngreen & Levinsen (2017) terminology, their role maintained a balance between  that of ‘ethnographers’ focusing on the research and that of ‘clinicians’ taking care of the participants  needs. For additional guidance, external tutors, unaware of the workshop methodology, were invited  to guide the participants in the problem-solving process. Second, as the application to the workshop  was voluntary, participants did have a sense of ownership and were genuinely engaged in the activities  of the workshop. Third, professional biases were reduced, as much as possible, by forming diverse  teams and encouraging transdisciplinary thinking. Although the challenge of transdisciplinarity has  been partially met (with only 4 participants from non-design-related disciplines or specialisations),  the workshop may be considered relatively successful in this sense. The mix of different levels of  expertise played an important role here too. In addition to its methodological role, the workshop created the chance to explore possibilities  of social-ecological integration through design, and to contribute to the debate on the future development of the URCs of Bucharest. In this sense, the workshop addressed a real-world problem  and demonstrated, using Ørngreen & Levinsen’s (2017) classification of ways to employ workshops,  its added value as means to achieve a societal goal (e.g. furthering the debate and raising awareness  on the URCs of Bucharest) or as practice (e.g. design education). § 8.6 Conclusions This chapter elaborated a set of four design instruments, named the Connector, the Sponge, the Integrator, and the Scaler, as means to implement the four design principles introduced in Chapter  7. The Connector is used to reveal and reassign existing elements and to add potential elements  to the spatial networks of the URC in a non-conflicting spatial configuration. In a similar way, the Sponge reveals, reassigns and combines existing and potential open spaces in the URC, where people,  water and ecosystems can be jointly accommodated. The Integrator shows conflicts and synergies  between the elements revealed with the Connector and the Sponge to highlight strategic sites for design intervention. Finally, the Scaler helps in building the scalar framework and reveals cross-scalar  interdependencies of the URC. To demonstrate and evaluate the use of the instruments in the design process, a workshop methodology was carried out as part of the overall research design of the thesis. The design workshop,  organized in Bucharest, provided a rich set of quantitative and qualitative data, which was used to  evaluate and refine the definition of the instruments as they were presented here. Although the  workshop participants reported that the instruments were overall useful and easy to use, they also  made valuable suggestions for a better application of the instruments. Key insights were gained mostly  on how the instruments relate to each other in the design process. The scheme presented in Figure 8.1  shows a comprehensive set, which was refined by the evaluation carried out in the workshop. As a conclusion to Part 3 of this thesis, this chapter has demonstrated a potentially significant  contribution to the knowledge on designing social-ecologically integrated URCs. Future steps and  how this contribution relates to the other findings of the thesis will be discussed in detail in the  next chapter. TOC 257 Conclusions and Discussion 9 Conclusions and Discussion § 9.1 Conclusions Urban rivers have always been shaped by the tension between the pulsating power of seasonal  water flows and the aspired fixedness of settlement form. As cities developed along rivers, ever since  the earliest civilisations, a complex system of rationalisations has been constructed, extending far  beyond urban boundaries, in order to adjust river systems to human needs and safety. Until not long  ago, this system of rationalisations had been effectively keeping river dynamics under control, while  cities had grown less aware of the above-stated tension. Yet, the combined effect of accelerated  urbanisation and climate change have led to several failures in this control-driven approach to urban  river engineering and planning. Recurring floods, environmental degradation, loss of biodiversity,  decreasing liveability and environmental stress are symptoms that signal the loss of synergy between  rivers and cities. As shown in Section 1.2, these symptoms reveal four specific problems. As urban rivers were transformed into elements of technical infrastructure to facilitate longitudinal flows (storm  water runoff, car traffic), they became physical barriers to people, ecosystems and water (Section  1.2.1). Once rivers were transformed from their undisturbed state as systems which combined  drainage with storage into systems mainly based on controlling drainage and restraining natural  fluctuations, a latent flood risk has built up (Section 1.2.2). In their effort to manage infrastructural  flows, these same transformations diminished the capacity of urban rivers to deliver ecosystem services (Section 1.2.3) and reduced their scalar complexity (Section 1.2.4). Small rivers—i.e. narrow enough to be easily bridged and not to be used for major water transport— were in particular affected, as they were the first to be tamed and the most extensively transformed.  As shown in Figure 1.2, most inland European cities are crossed by small rivers. The largest European  cities, which are located along major rivers, are also crossed by smaller tributaries (e.g. River Lea in  London, Canal St. Martin in Paris, River Rotte in Rotterdam). Bucharest, the city examined in this study,  is traversed by two small rivers, Dâmbovița and its tributary Colentina, which were both subjected to  extensive transformations of technical and functional nature (Chapter 3) and, as a result, they are  currently unattractive, deteriorating, dysfunctional and disconnected from the city (Chapter 4). If Chapter 1 started with an outline of the shifting history of urban rivers and the problems that  accumulated throughout that history, let us conclude by looking at the potentials discovered in  this thesis that can restore the synergy between cities and their rivers. Drawing on social-ecological  resilience and urban form resilience theory, and adopting the approaches of spatial morphology and  landscape ecology, the thesis responds to these problems with the concept of social-ecologically  integrated Urban River Corridors (URCs) and by raising the following research question: How can social-ecological integration be spatially defined, assessed and designed in Urban River Corridors? The research was laid out in three parts—titled Context (Part 1), Assessment (Part 2) and Design (Part  3)—, representing the three consecutive steps taken to answer the research question: understanding, assessing, and designing URCs. Each part, summarised in Sections 9.1.1-9.1.3, responded to a  number of sub-questions and objectives put forward in the introduction (Section 1.4).  TOC 258 Integrated Urban River Corridors § 9.1.1 Understanding Urban River Corridors The first part of the thesis established the theoretical and practical context in which URCs are situated.  In response to the sub-questions and objectives shown in Table 9.1, Chapter 2 gave a spatial- morphological definition, wherein key spatial properties were identified, principles from various  disciplines were synthesized, and a method of spatial delineation was devised, while Chapters 3 and 4  provided an in-depth description and analysis of a real-world case. TABLE 9.1  Sub-questions and objectives addressed in the chapters of Part 1. CHAPTER # SUB-QUESTION OBJECTIVES Chapter 2 SQ2: What are the spatial-morphological  conditions for achieving social-ecological  integration along urban rivers? Objective 2.1: Identify key properties of URCs. Objective 2.2: Formulate a spatial-morphological definition of URCs. Objective 2.3: Devise a method of spatial delineation of URCs. Chapter 3 SQ3: How has the social-ecological relation- ship between Bucharest and its rivers evolved through time? Objective 3.1: Describe the geographic context of Bucharest’s URCs. Objective 3.2: Describe the spatial-temporal dynamics of Bucharest’s URCs. Chapter 4 SQ4: What is the current state of knowledge  on Bucharest’s URCs? Objective 4.1: Summarise the spatial effects of post-socialist transformations on  URCs in Central and Eastern Europe. Objective 4.2: Identify the current problems and potentials of Bucharest’s URCs  related to urban development. SQ2: What are the spatial-morphological conditions for achieving social-ecological integration along urban rivers? The Urban River Corridor (URC) was adopted as an integrative and integrated concept that combines  the river valley with the surrounding urban fabric. The definition of URCs was developed based on a  transdisciplinary literature review of urban rivers from four perspectives: environmental-ecological, social-economic, planning-governance, and spatial-morphological. Following the review, four key properties were identified (Table 9.2). The first property, connectivity, defined on three dimensions— longitudinal, lateral and vertical—, was presented as a potentially integrative concept both from  social and from ecological point of view. A three-dimensional understanding of connectivity can  shed light on why rivers have become physical barriers (mainly accommodating longitudinal  connectivity) and on how those barriers could be overcome. Open space amenity, the second property  identified in literature, refers, on one hand, to the provision of ecosystem services through green- blue infrastructure solutions and, on the other hand, to the social and economic value of open space  in waterfront (re)development. Understanding the relationship between built form and open space  through diversified occupation and movement is essential for establishing a balanced relationship  between the river and the city. Another key property identified in literature was integration of the knowledge from multiple disciplines, of planning decisions, and of the social and ecological systems.  Finally, multiscalarity was highlighted in all the four perspectives of the literature review. The scales of URCs, ranging from the scale of the major river catchment to the scale of individual sites, were  identified and defined. The spatial-morphological definition of social-ecologically integrated URCs  combined these four properties in a spatial representation (Figure 2.3) and assembled a terminology  that can aid transdisciplinary communication concerned. TOC 259 Understanding Urban River Corridors TABLE 9.2  The key properties of URCs identified in the transdisciplinary literature review presented in Chapter 2. URC PROPERTY DESCRIPTION Connectivity Connectivity of URCs is used to describe the movement of water, people and ecosystems on three spatial dimensions:  longitudinal, lateral and vertical. Open space amenity Diverse open spaces along URCs are important for accommodating hydrological, ecological and social processes. Integration URCs are integrated through multifunctionality, through a balanced configuration of built-up density and open space, or  through multi- or interdisciplinary knowledge. Multiscalarity URCs must be understood on multiple scales from the context of the larger river catchment to the details of public space  on human scale. Scales of URCs include: the major river catchment, the metropolitan area, the urban river corridor, the  corridor segment, the river space, and the site. SQ3: How has the social-ecological relationship between Bucharest and its rivers evolved through time? Prior to the application of the spatial-morphological definition of URCs on Bucharest in Chapter 4,  Chapter 3 gave a historical overview to reveal the social-ecological dynamics of the city and its rivers. Due to its low-lying geographic location in the Romanian Plain, Bucharest has had a dynamic  relationship with its rivers Dâmbovița and Colentina ever since it started to develop as a centre  of regional importance in the mid-19th century. The pressure posed on the natural flow of River  Dâmbovița by the man-made structures such as bridges, watermills and small industries dependent  on water led to an increasing number of floods, thus prompting the need for the first river  transformations in the 1880s. During the next century, the river was rectified, canalised, concreted  and culverted as part of a series of modernisation projects. From a valley with a dynamic social and  ecological landscape occupied by gardens, ponds, wetlands, islands, mills, monasteries, tanneries  and the old court, Dâmbovița became a functional infrastructure used to drain water and guide  traffic across the city. Seen through the definition of URCs, Dâmbovița became highly connected on  a longitudinal dimension, while the lateral and vertical connectivity were considerably diminished.  Most open spaces around the river were either built up or disconnected from the river by roads built  on the embankment. Moreover, the transformation of the river into a traffic corridor shifted its scale  from a ‘backyard’ space accessible locally to a city-scale infrastructure dedicated to higher speeds and  longitudinal transit. River Colentina, tributary of River Dâmbovița, was reached by the expansion of the city a few decades  later, when the villages on its shores became peripheries of the city. As the marshy valley of Colentina  presented a threat to the health of the population, a plan was devised in the 1930s for the reclamation  and sanitization of the whole river valley. As with the case of Dâmbovița, the transformation became  an opportunity for modernization. The river was transformed in several stages during the 20th century  into a succession of lakes and parks forming a city-wide recreational space. In this case, longitudinal  connectivity was diminished (the river was dammed, riverside traffic remained outside the valley),  vertical connectivity partially reduced (concreted banks), while lateral connectivity was maintained  and even improved locally. Conceived as a metropolitan green and blue corridor, a generous open  space was maintained along the lakes, which could accommodate both recreational spaces for people  and ecological patches, corridors, and gradients. Although seemingly very different—Dâmbovița as a canal, Colentina as a succession of lakes—,  both rivers had been highly engineered. The transformation of both rivers started off as a response  to a threat: flood in case of Dâmbovița, the pestilential conditions of the wetlands along Colentina.  TOC 260 Integrated Urban River Corridors On the other hand, both were driven by a vision. Dâmbovița was to become a perfectly controlled  river replaced by a modern urban axis, while Colentina was pictured as a tamed landscape where  all Bucharestians could spend their weekend close to nature. These transformations diminished  the connectivity, spatial capacity, and scalar complexity of the rivers, and ultimately resulted in a  weakened social-ecological relationship between the city and its rivers. SQ4: What is the current state of Bucharest’s URCs? In the nearly three decades following the fall of Communism in 1989, in which the urgency of political,  social and economic transformations prevailed over the need for spatial planning, the two rivers of  Bucharest have not been actively transformed. Instead, they were subject to a process of uncontrolled  development, which has yet to be fully documented in urban planning and design literature. The  recent transformations and the current state, including problems and potentials, of the two URCs of  Bucharest, have been investigated through interviews of local experts involved in planning, design,  governance, engineering or civic initiatives related to the two rivers (Table 9.3). The experts described Dâmbovița as the most problematic of the two URCs, mainly because it is  completely canalised and, as it is bordered by roads on both sides, it acts like a physical barrier to  pedestrian movement. Due to its disconnection from the pedestrian network, it was named by the  experts a ‘non-place’, a space that lacks meaning for the inhabitants of the city. In addition, any spatial  intervention along Dâmbovița is considered to be very difficult due to the lack of integrated planning  and the crampedness of the river space in central segments of the corridor. At the same time, given its  central location, Dâmbovița could become an axis of urban development, with a strong spatial identity  and economic attractiveness. Dâmbovița could also benefit from the reactivation of the river valley and  the abandoned urban areas and structures in its vicinity. River Colentina and its surroundings were described by the experts as a fragmented territory. This  fragmentation is visible both in the poor accessibility of the river, mainly due to lakeside privatisation,  and in the social imbalance between poor and rich lakeside communities. According to the  interviewees, the recent degradation of the river can be ascribed mainly to the weak urban legislation  and derogative planning practices of the post-communist period. The experts also pointed out the  great potential of the river to become a green-blue corridor and that, like Dâmbovița, it could become  an axis of urban development mainly driven by recreational activities capitalising on the prevailing  natural qualities of the corridor. TABLE 9.3  The main problems and potentials of the URCs of Bucharest, as identified in the expert interviews. PROBLEMS POTENTIALS URC Dâmbovița • canalisation •   physical barrier •   a ‘non-place’ •   lack of integrated planning •   crampedness •   axis of urban development •   latent spatial capacity •   a space of identity •   the invisible valley •   economic attractor URC Colentina •   a fragmented territory •   social exclusion •   artificial nature • derogative planning • green-blue corridor •   axis of urban development • recreation TOC 261 Assessing Urban River Corridors § 9.1.2 Assessing Urban River Corridors The second part of the thesis has developed an assessment framework meant to evaluate how the  spatial-morphological definition of URCs is applied to empirical contexts. To that end, Chapter 5 has  developed an indicator system and a method of assessment based on the key properties of URCs and  current approaches to urban river assessment. In Chapter 6, the assessment framework was applied  to the URCs of Bucharest. The sub-questions and objectives of these chapters are summarised in  Table 9.4. TABLE 9.4  Sub-questions and objectives addressed in the chapters of Part 2. CHAPTER # SUB-QUESTION OBJECTIVES Chapter 5 SQ5: How can the social-ecological   integration of URCs be  spatially assessed? Objective 5.1: Review current approaches to the assessment of urban rivers. Objective 5.2: Build an assessment framework for social-ecological integration  in URCs. Chapter 6 SQ6: To what extent are the URCs of   Bucharest social-ecologically integrated? Objective 6.1: Assess social-ecological integration in URC Dâmbovița. Objective 6.2: Demonstrate the wider application of the assessment framework  on URC Colentina. SQ5: How can the social-ecological integration of URCs be spatially assessed? In Chapter 5, an assessment framework of social-ecological integration in URCs was constructed following the spatial-morphological definition of URCs and building on current approaches to the  spatial assessment of urban rivers. The indicator system that was developed for the assessment  framework consists of social and ecological indicators organised under the categories longitudinal,  lateral and vertical connectivity, as well as spatial diversity, spatial quality, and spatial composition  (Figure 5.2). Target values were defined for each indicator and were classified on a standardised three- point scale. This way, the assessment of social-ecological integration could be carried out, as shown  in Figure 5.3, by confronting social and ecological indicators under their corresponding categories  (e.g. longitudinal social connectivity with longitudinal ecological connectivity). Multiscalarity could be  ensured by aggregating data from scales of constraint (river catchment and metropolitan area) and  from scales of components (river space and the scale of individual sites) to the scale of the URC and  the URC segment defined as the scales of focus for assessment. After the measurements are made  on the scale of a corridor segment, the results are aggregated to the scale of the URC, where the final  assessment and interpretation of the results are made. SQ6: To what extent are the URCs of Bucharest social-ecologically integrated? In Chapter 6, the assessment framework was applied to the nine corridor segments of URC Dâmbovița  (Sections 6.3) and it was further demonstrated on URC Colentina (Section 6.4). The main problems  and potentials derived from the expert interviews in Chapter 4 were used as criteria to select the  indicators relevant for the assessment of social-ecological integration in the URCs of Bucharest. In the  selection, each category of the assessment framework was represented by at least one indicator. The  assessment of URC Dâmbovița had the following results: TOC 262 Integrated Urban River Corridors – Connectivity on the social side was mainly low on the longitudinal dimension, medium on the lateral  dimension, and absolute low on the vertical dimension (Figure 6.3). These values appeared relatively  similar for the social and ecological side of the evaluation. – The values for spatial capacity were overall higher than connectivity scores (Figure 6.5). Spatial  diversity and spatial quality received an overall medium score on the social side of the assessment  and a preponderantly low score on the ecological side. Social spatial composition scored high in most  central segments of the corridor, while ecological spatial composition was high in peripheral segments  and medium in central segments. – As shown in the example of URC segment CS03 (Figure 6.6), social-ecological integration was first  assessed for each individual segment. By mirroring the scores on the social and ecological side of  the assessment chart, values were determined by the minimum score for each of the six assessment  categories. Where an imbalance between the two sides was observed, and hence a decrease in the  mirrored score was applied, areas of potential improvement were identified. These results are useful  in supporting segment-scale planning decisions targeting social-ecological integration. As shown in  Figure 6.6, strategic interventions in CS03 aiming to increase longitudinal connectivity on the social  side, spatial diversity, spatial quality and spatial composition on the ecological side would increase the  overall score of the segment from low to medium. – Corridor-scale assessment summarised the actual and potential scores of all segments. Not  surprisingly, central segments scored high on the social side, while peripheral segments returned  higher values in the ecological side. However, when potential integration—i.e. symmetry across the  two sides—was considered, segments with different values had similar potential profiles. For instance,  this was the case of CS03, CS04 and CS07, characterised by high potential spatial composition,  medium potential spatial diversity and medium potential lateral connectivity (Figure 6.7). The wider application of the assessment framework was further demonstrated at corridor segment  scale on URC Colentina (Section 6.4) with two indicators—one that was used on URC Dâmbovița  (network accessibility) and one that is specific to the spatial conditions of URC Colentina (green space  coverage)—, confirming, for instance, that URC Colentina is less accessible than URC Dâmbovița.  § 9.1.3 Designing Urban River Corridors The third part of the thesis has elaborated a way to improve social-ecological integration in URCs  through design, based on the spatial-morphological description of URCs introduced in Part 1 and the  normative targets established in Part 2. In response to the sub-questions and objectives summarised  in Table 9.5, in Chapter 7 it constructed design principles and in Chapter 8 it tested their application by means of design instruments. TABLE 9.5  Sub-questions and objectives addressed in the chapters of Part 3. CHAPTER # SUB-QUESTION OBJECTIVES Chapter 7 SQ7: How can the design of URCs be guided  towards social-ecological integration? Objective 7.1: Formulate design principles of social-ecologically integrated URCs. Objective 7.2: Explore URCs through design. Chapter 8 SQ8: How do design instruments aid the  design of better integrated URCs? Objective 8.1: Develop a set of design instruments to apply the design principles  of social-ecologically integrated URCs. Objective 8.2: Demonstrate and test the design instruments on the URCs of  Bucharest. TOC 263 Designing Urban River Corridors SQ7: How can the design of URCs be guided towards social-ecological integration? Rooted in the spatial-morphological definition of URCs and informed by the design explorations  presented in Boxes 7.1-7.4, Chapter 7 has constructed a set of four design principles specific to URCs:  Interconnectedness, Absorptive Capacity, Social-Ecological Integration, and Interscalarity. The first  two principles were used to define the elements of URCs—networks and spaces—as well as their  configuration and composition, respectively. The latter two were defined as relational principles, as  they guide design by revealing spatial linkages across the systems and scales of the URC. Design for  social-ecologically integrated URCs requires an overall understanding of the potentials uncovered by  each of these principles. Advanced as a comprehensive set, the four principles were defined as follows: – Interconnectedness (Section 7.3.1) guides the design of the spatial elements of the water network, the traffic network (including the network of pedestrian movement), and the ecological network in the URC. According to this principle, these networks should have a non-conflicting and interconnected  spatial configuration in order to accommodate hydrological, social and ecological connectivity on all  three—i.e. longitudinal, lateral and vertical—dimensions. – Absorptive Capacity (Section 7.3.2) is a design principle that addresses the elements of water space, social space and green space in the URC. According to this principle, the spaces of the URCs must  have a redundant and attractive spatial composition, which is obtained, on one hand, from increased  spatial capacity and, on the other hand, through functional and spatial diversity. – Social-Ecological Integration (Section 7.3.3) is a relational principle according to which (potential)  conflicts and (potential) synergies within and between the networks and the open spaces of the URC  reveal strategic spaces for social-ecological integration. Synergies are reflected in non-conflicting  spatial network configurations and in multifunctional open spatial compositions. – Interscalarity (Section 7.3.4) makes relations across the scalar spectrum of URCs explicit. This  principle establishes a framework which divides the scalar spectrum defined in Chapter 2 in levels of constraint (or context), levels of focus and levels of components (or detail). By making these relations  explicit, interdependencies and cascading effects are accounted for in the design process. In addition,  Interscalarity reveals temporal constraints and path dependencies inherent in the networks and  spaces of the URC. SQ8: To what extent do the four design instruments aid the design of better integrated URCs? In line with the four design principles, Chapter 8 elaborated four design instruments, namely the Connector, the Sponge, the Integrator and the Scaler, and tested them on the two URCs of Bucharest.  – The Connector (Section 8.2.1) implements the principle of Interconnectedness with a procedure that helps the designer highlight and reconfigure the network elements of the URC and reassign them in a  non-conflicting spatial configuration. The Connector is not comprehensive but strategic, as it selects  network elements that are key to improving interconnectedness. – The Sponge (Section 8.2.1), applying the principle of Absorptive Capacity, aids the designer in making  an inventory of all open spaces of the URC, classifying them into (existing and potential) elements of  water space, public space, and green space, and critically identifying their qualities and attractiveness. – The Integrator (Section 8.2.2), implementing the principle of Social-Ecological Integration, helps the designers identify social-ecological conflicts and synergies on two levels. On the one hand, it examines  the interaction between network elements and open space elements separately. On the other hand, it  confronts the networks and open spaces to reveal further synergies between their spatial configuration  and spatial composition. – The Scaler (Section 8.2.2) applies the principle of Interscalarity by revealing scalar interactions  among the spatial elements identified by the Connector and the Sponge. As a reflexive instrument,  TOC 264 Integrated Urban River Corridors the Scaler helps the designer identify the scales of context, focus and detail on the scalar spectrum  of URCs and, in consequence, to make (potential) interdependencies, cascading effects and path- dependencies explicit. The design workshop as a research methodology was used to test, refine and demonstrate the  performance of the design instruments. § 9.1.4 Contribution In response to the main research question, the thesis has constructed a theory of social-ecologically integrated Urban River Corridors, in which it proposed a spatial-morphological definition, an assessment framework, and a set of design principles and instruments. As shown in Table 9.6, the key properties, the set-up of the assessment framework, together with the design principles and  instruments, form four continuous threads and thus bind the three parts of the thesis. The coverage of  the four components within each of the three parts was theoretically grounded in Chapter 2, Chapter  5, and Chapter 7, while the interaction between the three parts was methodologically grounded, as  explained in Section 1.8, by the linkages between the theoretical chapters (Chapters 2, 5 and 7), on  the one hand, and between the empirical chapters (Chapters 4, 6 and 8), on the other (see Figure  1.11). TABLE 9.6  The three components of the theory of social-ecologically integrated URCs advanced in the thesis. UNDERSTANDING URCS ASSESSING URCS DESIGNING URCS Spatial-morphological definition Assessment framework Design principles Design instruments Connectivity Indicators of connectivity Interconnectedness The Connector Open space amenity Indicators of spatial capacity Absorptive Capacity The Sponge Integration Assessment Social-Ecological Integration The Integrator Multiscalarity Scalar framework Interscalarity The Scaler The proposed spatial-morphological definition advances a description of URCs in which the spatial  requirements of urban systems (the ’social-’) and ecosystems (the ‘-ecological’) are considered on an  equal footing. The four key properties put forward in the definition establish the spatial prerequisites  upon which social-ecological integration can be achieved. The close analysis of the URCs of Bucharest  has contextualised this definition and demonstrated the importance of the four properties in relation  to real-world problems and potentials. In order to assess how well the spatial-morphological definition is reflected in a given empirical  context, the assessment framework has elaborated quantifiable targets for connectivity and spatial  capacity of both social and ecological kind. With this assessment framework, planning and design  decisions can be better informed about the current and potential social-ecological state of URCs. The  assessment conducted on URC Dâmbovița of Bucharest demonstrated how the framework can offer  strategic and actionable insights for planning and design for social-ecological integration. TOC 265 Discussion Rooted in the spatial-morphological definition of URCs, design explorations and complementing the  assessment framework, the design principles proposed in this thesis guide the spatial transformation  of URCs towards social-ecological integration. Devised as user-friendly implements of the design  principles, the design instruments help designers of and in URCs to identify strategic elements and  relations of social-ecological integration. § 9.2 Discussion Looking back at the initial set-up and the overall process of the research, a number of theoretical,  methodological and epistemological challenges require further reflection, namely the initial claim  that social-ecological integration contributes to general urban resilience and the challenges and opportunities of the transdisciplinary design study approach. § 9.2.1 Reflections on the impact of social-ecologically integrated URCs on general urban resilience Social-ecological integration was introduced in Section 1.3.4 at the intersection of social-ecological resilience and urban form resilience, and it was defined as “the capacity of social-ecological systems to  sustain synergies and to alleviate conflicts between the patterns and processes of coexisting ecological  and social components” (p. 50) accommodated within their larger urban context. In urban areas,  Urban River Corridors were identified as “spaces of social-ecological integration par excellence, where  the interaction between the social system of the city and ecological systems is (potentially) the most  intense” (p. 51). By growing synergies and alleviating conflicts between the networks and spaces of  ecosystems and urban systems in URCs across scales and, consequently, establishing a reciprocal  relationship, whereby resources are shared, it is argued that social-ecological integration has a positive  impact on general urban resilience. Then it is not surprising that the three contributions to defining, assessing and designing social- ecologically integrated URCs presented in Section 9.1 mirror the three major challenges of  understanding, measuring, and building resilience. Social-ecological integration, as described in  Section 1.3.4, “builds on general urban resilience, it addresses chronic stresses, and it adopts a  proactive approach, by pooling the resources, adaptability and transformability of the social and  ecological components of the system” (p. 50). This approach narrows the focus to parts of resilience  that are generally germane to urban design and planning. As stated by Vale (2014), a proactive  approach to resilience is particularly relevant to urban design and planning, allowing design and  planning professionals to be involved much earlier in the resilience-building process. Hence, this  thesis recognises the necessity of a normative agenda of resilience, as prompted by Weichselgartner  & Kelman (2015), that can be potentially enabled by social-ecological resilience (Brand & Jax,  2007) and implemented through a spatial-morphological approach to achieve social-ecological  integration. In addition, by making use of the concepts, methods and tools of spatial morphology and  landscape ecology in the empirical investigation of Bucharest, this thesis potentially contributed to the  knowledge on operationalising resilience. TOC 266 Integrated Urban River Corridors The problems of URCs described in Section 1.2—the river as a physical barrier to pedestrians, latent  flood risk, lack of ecosystem services, and reduced scalar complexity—cannot be described as acute  shocks, i.e. sudden disruptions, such as floods, heatwaves and power outages, but as chronic stresses,  characterised as continuous and latent disturbances. What makes problems of this kind especially  difficult to grasp is that they represent an ongoing absence or insufficiency of something that appears  non-vital on the short term, but nevertheless disturbing and unpredictable on the long term. Because  a point of collapse, or critical threshold, is nearly impossible to foresee, the proactive/preventive  approach found in both general urban resilience theory and urban design practice (Forgaci & van  Timmeren, 2014) is at least promising. The spatial-morphological definition and its applications in the assessment framework and the design  principles have addressed this issue in two ways: by making the issues of the URC spatially explicit,  and by focusing on potentials too. This way of approaching the problematique of URCs is visible in  each part of the thesis: in the analyses of the problems and potentials revealed in the expert interviews  (Chapter 4); by including both the current and potential situation in the assessment of Bucharest’s  URCs (Chapter 6); and in the design principles (Chapter 7) and instruments (Chapter 8), which guide  the transformation of the spatial configuration and composition of key spatial elements and relations  in the URC. Finding direct correspondences or correlations between spatial properties of resilience, such as redundancy, diversity, modularity and density, and the four spatial properties of URCs was outside  the scope of the thesis. Nevertheless, some important linkages could be observed, especially with  regard to the design principles. By definition, both Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity aim for  spatial redundancy and enable spatial diversity, thus having a potentially positive impact on resilience.  Yet, when seen from the point of view of other resilience properties, their contribution to resilience  may as well be questioned. It may also be argued that high connectivity decreases resilience, as it  can propagate disturbances throughout the system, whereas a modular configuration would allow  parts of the system to de-couple in case of a disruptive event. However, when talking about spatial  implications of resilience, a distinction must be made between the system and the space within which  it operates. Interconnectedness is mainly a spatial principle, not a systemic one, and urban space is not  a ‘system’, but a physical manifestation of urban systems, on the one hand, and a field of possibilities  in which urban systems have a certain freedom to manifest in different ways, on the other. That being  the case, spatial interconnectedness affords both interconnected and modular system behaviour,  whereas a less connected spatial configuration may allow for modularity but would limit potentially  desirable interactions across the urban system. As explained in Section 7.3.1, interconnected road  networks and redundant networks of habitat patches create choice to people and ecosystems to  occupy or move in space in various ways. Aimed at increasing spatial diversity and spatial redundancy, Absorptive Capacity also has a potentially  positive impact on resilience. Nonetheless, as shown in the goals of sustainable urban form and green  infrastructure planning, open space capacity and amenity needs to be balanced with density, another  spatial property, introduced in the definition of resilient urban form (Section 1.3.2), which contributes  to the built diversity and redundancy, necessary mainly for social resilience. The joint social-ecological  definition of URC space, helps weighing built and unbuilt priorities of spatial diversity and redundancy.  This balance was central to the definition of Social-Ecological Integration too. Capitalising on the differences between urban systems and ecosystems, Social-Ecological Integration highlights the potentials for diversity found in the spaces and networks of URCs. Interconnectedness assembles  networks of different kind (the water network, the ecological network and the traffic network) in a  non-conflicting spatial configuration. Similarly, Absorptive Capacity encourages multifunctional and  overlapped compositions of different open spaces (water space, green space, social space), looking  TOC 267  Challenges and opportunities of a transdisciplinary design study at their usage, morphological relations and qualities as social and ecological spaces. The diversity  brought by these couplings is beneficial for resilience. The Adaptive Cycle model, used in resilience theory to describe system dynamics along the two axes  of potential and connectedness (see Figure 1.6 on p. 46), can be related to the design principle  Interconnectedness. Once again however, an important distinction must be made between the  spatial focus of Interconnectedness and the process-orientation of the Adaptive Cycle. Considering  the complex dynamics of the urban environment, in which human agency has a defining role, the  application of the Adaptive Cycle model is less straightforward then in an ecological system. Hence,  instead of cycles of destruction and reorganisation, the urban environment can be better described in  terms of persistence, adaptations and transformations, as in ‘resilience thinking’, that keep the urban  system in a dynamic equilibrium. The cross-scalar description of the Panarchy model, i.e. a nested  hierarchy of Adaptive Cycles used in social-ecological resilience theory (see Figure 1.6 on p. 46), may  reveal current and potential interdependencies across the levels of constraint, focus and components  as well as long-term dynamics considered by the principle of Interscalarity. Seen from a Panarchy  perspective, adaptive cycles from the level of components can exhibit emergence. For instance, if  several sites along the river are transformed into attractive public spaces (improved potential in  the social dimension of Absorptive Capacity), the river space as a whole might change identity and  allow for a large-scale transformation, gaining city-wide importance and increased potential for  connectivity at various scales and speeds of movement (e.g. riverside slow mobility route supported  by Interconnectedness). Similarly, catchment-scale dynamics and geomorphology (i.e. large and slow  cycles) provide the ‘memory’ required for restoring or rehabilitating human-altered river functions  and morphology. Understood form a historical perspective, the networks and spaces, as well as their  interactions within and across scales, URCs reveal potentials that otherwise would not be visible. § 9.2.2 Challenges and opportunities of a transdisciplinary design study Underlying the descriptive/analytical approach of Parts 1 and 2 and the design-based approach of  Part 3, the thesis is defined as a transdisciplinary design study. This approach presents a number of  challenges and opportunities for research and design. This section discusses how transdisciplinarity,  as a prerequisite of rigorous sustainability scholarship, was achieved through ‘methodological  groundedness’ and ‘epistemological agility’ (Haider et al., 2018) and how design was employed  both as part of the research process (exploration and testing) and as part of the research outcome  (principles and instruments). Transdisciplinary research Transdisciplinary research aims for a holistic understanding of problems and potentials that surpass  disciplinary boundaries and, accordingly, it involves the exchange of theories, concepts and methods  among various fields of knowledge (Montuori, 2013). In this respect, the main challenges of this study  were of methodological and epistemological nature, as it required an integrated mix of qualitative  and quantitative methods in a combined research strategy (i.e. comprising elements of design  study, case study and logical argumentation) and it needed to overcome barriers encountered in the  communication and transfer of knowledge. Following Haider et al.’s (2018) recommendations for  rigorous sustainability science (Section 1.5.2), these challenges were met by ensuring high degrees of  methodological groundedness (‘depth’ of research) and epistemological agility (‘breadth’ of research). TOC 268 Integrated Urban River Corridors Given the mixed methods approach of this study, methodological groundedness was achieved  separately in the three empirical segments of the research presented in Chapter 4 (qualitative data  analysis of expert interviews), Chapter 6 (application of the assessment framework) and Chapter  8 (the design workshop as an environment for testing), respectively. In Chapter 4, criteria of  trustworthiness—credibility, transferability, dependability and confirmability—were used to ensure  the quality of the data collection and analysis procedures. This segment of the research constructed a  grounded description of the current state of Bucharest’s URCs. The assessment framework, grounded  in the spatial-morphological definition introduced in Chapter 2, was applied in Chapter 6 on URC  Dâmbovița and it was partially validated on URC Colentina. In Chapter 8, a multi-method approach  was adopted for data collection in the design workshop. Overall research quality was achieved by  linking these three grounded segments of the research to each other. As shown in Table 6.1, the  results of the qualitative data analysis conducted in Chapter 4 were used as criteria for selecting the  indicators for assessment in Chapter 6. The target values and the results of the assessment carried out  in Chapter 6, as well as the detailed problem/potential analysis of the problems carried out in Chapter  4, were used to formulate the design assignments for Chapter 8. If methodological groundedness is an established requirement in science, epistemological agility, that  is, one’s capacity to easily switch between different fields of knowledge and to work with transferable  principles, is hardly achieved in research. Epistemological agility was enabled by the comprehensive  knowledge base of URCs built in the transdisciplinary literature review of Chapter 2, and by its further  applications in the development of the assessment framework (Chapter 5) and of the design principles  (Chapter 7). As shown in Chapter 2, urban rivers have been studied in a variety of disciplines, such  as river engineering, environmental history, environmental engineering, urban design and urban  planning. To identify linkages between these fields, a frame of four domain families, clustering  environmental-ecological, social-economic, planning-governance, and spatial-morphological aspects  of urban rivers, was used to organise the knowledge surrounding the subject matter. In order to further  align these different fields of knowledge, the thesis used a visual description in each of the three  parts to summarise and communicate the spatial-morphological definition (Figure 2.3), assessment  framework (Figure 5.2), principles (Figure 7.13, Figure 7.21, Figure 7.24, and Figure 7.30) and  instruments (Figure 8.3, Figure 8.4, Figure 8.5, and Figure 8.8) of social-ecologically integrated URCs. Design-driven research Design, as a problem-solving activity, typically integrates various fields of knowledge (e.g. Carmona  et al., 2010). Designers constantly formulate hypotheses, make assumptions, use analogies, devise  metaphors and, while doing so, they switch between disciplines. This switch, however, requires  a certain rigour and basic knowledge of the disciplines in question. In the case of URC design, an  elementary comprehension of geomorphology, hydrology, and ecology, for instance, is essential.  Transdisciplinary design meets this requirement in two ways: through design principles and a  unified spatial language. Principles, it is argued, are the main ‘currency’ of transdisciplinarity, as they  represent essential knowledge that is highly transferable. The practice of communicating and applying  knowledge across disciplines through (often illustrated) principles is not new, as seen, for example,  in the landscape ecology principles of Dramstad et al. (1996), presented in Section 2.2.5 and Section  7.3.1 (Figure 7.6), meant to guide landscape architecture and land-use planning towards a more  ecologically aware practice. The four URC design principles, presented in Section 7.3, could not have been constructed without the transdisciplinary knowledge gained in Chapter 2. The principle of Interconnectedness is built on knowledge of three-dimensional connectivity developed in the fields of river ecology and hydrology,  corridor- and patch-based descriptions of habitat networks from landscape ecology, and road  TOC 269  Challenges and opportunities of a transdisciplinary design study network configurations as described in urban morphology. Absorptive Capacity combined knowledge  of landscape ecology, stormwater management, and public space design. In addition to these fields,  Social-Ecological Integration built on resilience theory and strategic planning, and Interscalarity was informed by complexity theory and hierarchy theory. These four design principles reveal key spatial  potentials of URCs that otherwise would have remained implicit. Hence, one of the main functions of  these principles is that they make things explicit and, by doing so, they raise awareness and provide  a rich description of what URCs are and how they should be transformed towards improved social- ecological integration. Another important role in understanding URCs and in the development of design principles was  played by the design explorations presented in Boxes 7.1-7.4, carried out in parallel to the rest of the  research process. The project for River Dâmbovița, presented in Box 7.2, highlighted the importance  of open spaces in the valley in constructing a continuous corridor that can accommodate both public  and green spaces. The project, carried out prior to this research, had identified the problems of  River Dâmbovița and had hinted to the potential of the river valley for social-ecological integration.  In the project for River Colentina (Box 7.1), the spatial network of strategically chosen connections  formed the basis of the principle of Interconnectedness. The project shown in Box 7.4, an urban  design strategy for the French city of Vernon crossed by the Seine, was an exercise in understanding  the scales of the city in relation to the river and how spatial connections across those scales—from a  network of porous urban spaces within the city, through transversal city-river connections, to regional  connectivity along the Seine—could be achieved. In the integrated urban development plan for River  Someșul Mic in the Romanian city of Cluj-Napoca described in Box 7.3, the idea of synergies and  conflicts between the river space, social space and ecological space was developed. These four projects built upon each other and contributed to a better understanding of the  connections, spaces, interactions and scales of URCs. Beyond the individual design assignments to  which the projects had responded, they were part of a larger, reflexive process, wherein a distinction  between particular and generalisable features was sought. In time, as the research evolved, the  projects have demonstrated increasing awareness of the spatial morphology and design possibilities  of URCs at large. If the first project (Box 7.2) was a conceptual exploration carried out individually,  the most recent project (Box 7.3) benefited from the knowledge and it was carried out by a  transdisciplinary team, including an urban sociologist, a river ecologist and a river engineer. In order to be tested in a real-world setting, the principles were translated into instruments comprising  specific procedures that could easily guide the design of social-ecologically integrated URCs. Less  abstract than principles and more user-oriented, the instruments were necessary for facilitating the  adoption and application of principles. The design workshop, presented in Chapter 8, was chosen as a  testing and demonstration environment for the instruments. Beyond the methodological challenges  of preparing, conducting and following up on a design workshop, discussed in detail in Section 8.3 and  Section 8.5, the design workshop has proven to be an essential component of the transdisciplinary  design study, because it brought to the overall research strategy an additional action research  component, wherein it engaged in situ with local experts, resident and visiting designers, as well as  professionals with different disciplinary backgrounds. Neither design nor research are linear. On the contrary, they are essentially iterative and reflexive.  The reflexiveness of a transdisciplinary research approach (Haider et al., 2018) resonates especially  well with the non-linear character of a design process. Although the design projects and the design  workshop were presented chronologically and with a certain emphasis—exploration and testing,  respectively—, they were part of an iterative process. The four design projects employed in the  exploration phase had already involved testing and optimisation. Similarly, the eight projects  TOC 270 Integrated Urban River Corridors developed in the design workshop had contributed with further explorations into URC design.  Consequently, the form in which the principles and instruments are presented in this thesis has as a  result of that iterative process. As pointed out in Section 1.5, a design-driven research approach is challenged by the disjunction  between research as a question-driven activity and design as a goal-driven activity. As demonstrated  above, cross-semination between these two different ways of approaching a problem on  transdisciplinary grounds can create opportunities for both domains of activity. As design at urban  and landscape scale can hardly be decontextualized, evidence-based design, especially when it makes  use of transdisciplinary knowledge, is imperative. Design explorations, detached from methodological  constraints, allow for discovery and can provide insights or hypotheses for the research process.  Design workshops can provide fertile testing grounds both for research and design practice. All in all,  transdisciplinarity can establish a common ground between research and design. § 9.3 Practical applications and implications § 9.3.1 Possible usage scenarios Built on transdisciplinary grounds, the contributions of this thesis are of potential value for a diverse  audience. The spatial-morphological definition, illustrated in Figure 2.3, is meant to facilitate  further transdisciplinary research on the topic; hence, it can be used by researchers as a conceptual  framework for any other research related to urban rivers. The assessment framework presented in  Part 2 may be of interest as a decision support tool for city planners, as an analytical framework for  urban and landscape designers, or as a participatory planning and design tool involving a wide range  of stakeholders. The design principles formulated in Part 3 are mainly addressed to designers, but  they may guide planners and policy-makers as well. In addition, the design principles and instruments  may be of interest in urban and landscape design education. For the application of the assessment  framework and the design principles in a practical context, three typical usage scenarios can be  identified: corridor-focused assessment, corridor-focused design and site-focused design. Corridor-focused assessment As shown in Chapters 5 and 6, social-ecological integration is meaningful when it is understood at  the scale of the URC. Hence, corridor-focused assessment, for preliminary diagnoses, for the support  of planning decisions, as a prerequisite to corridor-scale design or for monitoring, is one of the most  likely usage scenarios of the assessment framework. Depending on relevant local issues, the objectives  of the assessment, data availability, and other technical constraints, an appropriate set of indicators  is selected in such a way that each major category of the indicator system is represented by at least on  indicator. As shown in Chapter 6, the assessment is carried out on each segment of the corridor and  the results are compared and aggregated to the scale of the corridor for the final interpretation. TOC 271  The implications of social-ecologically integrated URCs to urban development Corridor-focused design Corridor-focused design is concerned with the design of spaces spanning along and across the URC and it is typically strategic. The project shown in Box 7.1 proposed a strategic topological module that  was flexible enough to incorporate site specificities, but also generic enough to be replicated along  the whole corridor. The project for URC Someșul Mic shown in Box 7.3 and Box 8.1 used strategic  actions, i.e. key interventions that could be repeated in similar spatial conditions. However, a strategic  approach to the design of social-ecologically integrated URCs does not only entail replicability, but  also the work with key, sometimes even unique, locations, which are typically identified in areas of  synergy or conflict (Section 7.3.3). The principles of Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity can be employed to identify patterns of spatial configuration and composition. To follow the principle  of Interscalarity, knowledge of urban constraints from the scale of the metropolitan area as well as  hydrological and environmental constraints from the scale of the catchment are key in devising a  corridor-focused design strategy. Scales of detail are used to demonstrate the applicability of design  interventions proposed at scales of focus to specific site conditions. Site-focused design Design interventions are most often located on specific, contained sites in the URC. The principles  presented in Part 3 of the thesis can guide site-focused design in connecting to the networks and  spaces of the URC. Design at this scale can follow proximity or location information (distances to  the closest green spaces and public spaces) to contribute to the Interconnectedness and Absorptive Capacity of the URC. The use of pervious materials as well as green-blue infrastructure solutions are  considered at this scale. Social-Ecological Integration is achieved by having a contribution to public  space and green space. In terms of Interscalarity, the URC- and URC segment scale provide the  immediate constraints for site-scale design. In case of sites located in the river space, longitudinal and  vertical connectivity are prioritised, whereas sites located outside the river space have influence on  lateral connectivity towards the river or, in case of valley-edge sites, on longitudinal traffic connectivity.  Although catchment- and metropolitan-scale constraints may not be directly perceived at site-scale,  especially when the site in question is located outside the river space, basic knowledge of large-scale  influences, such as meso- and macro-scale environmental conditions or metropolitan traffic, might  have an impact on localised site design. § 9.3.2 The implications of social-ecologically integrated URCs to urban development URCs as axes of metropolitan development Besides the impact on general urban resilience, as discussed in Section 9.2.1, the design and  planning of URCs towards social-ecological integration might have wider implications to the spatial  development of the city as a whole. Redefined as URCs, the structural importance of the rivers  on metropolitan scale, as previously noted in the project for River Dâmbovița (Box 7.2), becomes  apparent. In its reflection on the wider implications of a river-centred urban development strategy  for the overall metropolitan structure of Bucharest, the project presented in Box 7.2 proposed a shift  from the current radial-concentric understanding of the primary urban structure to a stacked linear  model (Figure 9.1). With the principles proposed in this thesis, the development of such a model  can be imagined. The non-conflicting spatial configuration of URC networks proposed through  Interconnectedness, combined with increased attractiveness encouraged through the principle of  TOC 272 Integrated Urban River Corridors Absorptive Capacity, might promote the URCs of Bucharest to prime axes of urban development, as  one of the main potentials pointed out by the experts in Chapter 4. With a reconfigured longitudinal  connectivity, in which high speed traffic is moved outside the river valley, and the river banks are  dedicated to slower mobility, Dâmbovița could become an urban development backbone that is well  interlaced with both high-speed networks and the networks of pedestrian movement throughout  scales. The concrete banks of the river upgraded with ecotones and points of access would increase  vertical connectivity and spatial quality. Colentina could be revived as a green-blue corridor and  metropolitan recreational space, as envisioned in the 1930s, through improved longitudinal  connectivity along the lake shores, pedestrian accessibility, and spatial quality. FIGURE 9.1  The urbanization of Bucharest can be interpreted in two ways: as radial-concentric pattern structured by the traffic network (left) or as a  stacked linear pattern structured by rivers (right). Source: Forgaci, 2013. Drawing traced on Urban Atlas data. URCs beyond the case of Bucharest None of the observations derived from the assessment or from the design explorations and testing  are uniquely applicable to Bucharest. As explained in Section 1.2, Chapter 3 and Chapter 4, Bucharest  is not exceptional, but representative of the problems tackled in this thesis. A few other cities  with similar problems or exemplary actions have been named throughout the thesis (e.g. Paris,  Munich, Rotterdam, Antwerp, Seoul, Madrid), but there are many more around the world, which  have recognised the need to reconnect with their rivers. It is assumed that the wider applicability of  the research outcomes (the spatial-morphological definition, the assessment framework and the  design principles and instruments for URCs), developed on the URCs of Bucharest, is possible. Future  research pursuing such a possibility is nevertheless needed. § 9.4 Limitations and recommendations for future research Throughout this research, indications of potential follow-up research have arisen. Some of those  were limitations encountered during the research process, while others were discoveries of potential  applications beyond the scope of this thesis. The close study of Bucharest and its URCs offered  TOC 273  Limitations and recommendations for future research opportunities for in-depth research, as well as engagement and close cooperation with local actors.  However, the study of a single empirical context as part of the mixed-methods study design, presented  a number of limitations, in both the assessment (Part 2) and design phase (Part 3). To follow up  on these limitations, further empirical research is needed for the validation and calibration of the  assessment framework and for the testing of the design principles and instruments.  Context URCs were chosen as strategic spaces of social-ecological integration. This way of looking at urban  rivers situates urban systems and ecosystems in a relationship that is beneficial for the social- ecological resilience of the city as a whole. However, this approach to resilience is not limited to URCs.  Open spaces outside URCs, as well as the rural-urban fringe are also potential spaces for social- ecological integration and resilience. Although the spatial-morphological definition constructed on  the properties of connectivity, open space amenity, integration and multiscalarity is specific to URCs,  the conceptual framework combining the theories of social-ecological resilience and urban form  resilience with analytical instruments from spatial morphology and landscape ecology (Section 1.3.4)  is potentially applicable to studies of other kinds of social-ecological systems as well. Assessment Although the results of the assessment shown in Chapter 6 are indicative of the current state of  social-ecological integration in URC Dâmbovița, they are mainly an illustration of how the assessment  framework can be applied on a real-world case. As stated in Section 6.5, a fully fledged assessment  would require validation on other URCs in other cities and calibration of benchmarks (e.g. with a  complete assessment repeated on URC Colentina) and, to further increase the accuracy of results  for URC Dâmbovița, weights should be applied to the indicator system. By assessing other URCs,  the comparison of results across cases can be used to validate the assessment method, to calibrate  benchmarks and to devise a method for weighing the indicators. A weighting method could involve  the evaluation of the indicator system by an expert panel, e.g. through a pairwise comparison of the  indicators. Design The design workshop presented in Chapter 8 was not be carried out in a different city, and therefore  conclusions could not be drawn on the wider applicability of the design principles and the design  instruments either. Consequently, the applicability of the findings on other empirical contexts is yet  to be demonstrated in future design-driven research. Furthermore, design explorations and analyses  of precedent river design projects can situate the findings of this research in current trends of riverside  urban development. Moreover, to support the implementation of the URC design principles, URC  design instruments can be further developed through design-based methodologies, like the design  explorations presented in Boxes 7.1-7.4 and the design workshop described in Sections 8.3-8.5.  Design explorations can give new insights on possible applications of the design principles beyond  URCs. Implemented in other cities, a design workshop methodology similar to the one employed  in this thesis can shed further light on the external validity of the design principles and can provide  further input on the usefulness and possible applications of the design instruments. TOC 274 Integrated Urban River Corridors Future significance This thesis is explorative in combining research and design, as it goes beyond analysing design or  illustrating research in design to involve design both as a way to develop concepts and patterns in the  design process and as a grounded evidence-base rooted in transdisciplinary knowledge. In the light  of the methodological and epistemological challenges encountered with such an approach, research  in the field of urbanism needs to further develop design-driver research methodologies that are  problem based and unrestricted by disciplinary boundaries. Hence, different forms of combining the  two discourses, informed by transdisciplinary knowledge, should be further explored in the field of  urbanism. This is an imperative for a truly evidence-based design practice and sustainability-driven  scholarship. 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TOC 282 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 283  Biography Biography Claudiu Forgaci (1986) is an architect and urbanist, born in Miercurea-Ciuc, Romania. He holds a  Master of Architecture from “Ion Mincu” University of Architecture and Urbanism, Bucharest (2010)  and a Master of Science (Cum Laude) from the European Post-Master in Urbanism (EMU) at Delft  University of Technology (2013). For his studies at TU Delft, he was awarded with the “Open Horizons”  scholarship by the “Dinu Patriciu” Foundation in Romania and a scholarship from the Romanian- American Foundation. Claudiu worked for several years in the practice of architecture (2005-2012) and co-authored, as part  of the Bucharest-based ADN BA architecture studio (2009-2012), a series of award-winning projects,  such as the “Dogarilor Apartment Building”, nominated for the Mies van der Rohe Award in 2014.  In 2013, he started his research as a Climate-KIC label Ph.D. candidate at Delft University of  Technology under the supervision of Prof. Arjan van Timmeren and Dr. Machiel van Dorst on the topic  of urban resilience and social-ecological integration in urban river corridors. This topic continued explorations from his two master’s theses elaborated previously: “The limit between city and water.  The morphology of the waterfront in the image and structure of the city” (Forgaci, 2010) and  “Bucharest: Between North and South”, which explored the strategic potentials of River Dâmbovița in  Bucharest (Forgaci, 2013).    The Ph.D. research gave him an international experience through the Climate-KIC Summer Schools  “The Journey” (2015) in Utrecht (NL), Budapest (HU) and Coventry (UK), and “Urban Metabolism  and Circular Economy” (2016) in Bologna (IT); through the Idea League Doctoral School “Resilient  Urban Systems” held in Rotterdam (NL), Singapore, Guangzhou (CN) and Aachen (DE); and through  his doctoral mobility in the Spatial Morphology Research Group at Chalmers University of Technology,  where he worked on models for spatial integration using Space Syntax theory under the supervision of  Prof. Lars Marcus and Dr. Meta Berghauser Pont.  During his Ph.D. research, he used design projects to research design principles for river corridors. In  2015, he led the team that won the first prize in the international ideas competition (Re)Discovering  the Emerald Necklace Colentina Chain of Lakes organised in the Le:Notre Landscape Forum 2015 in  Bucharest, amongst other design competitions, such as Europan 12 on River Seine in Vernon (FR) or  Rethinking Someș on Someșul Mic River crossing the city of Cluj-Napoca (RO). Claudiu gave a number  of lectures on the topic of urban rivers, such as the one at One Architecture Week in Plovdiv, Bulgaria,  supported by the Romanian Cultural Institute, and organised in 2017 the international urban design  workshop “The Urban River Corridors of Bucharest” in Bucharest, Romania. Currently, he is a research fellow at AMS Amsterdam Institute for Advanced Metropolitan Solutions,  engaged in understanding how spatial urbanisation patterns, at multiple scales, are related to urban  resilience and seeks to drive forward his approach in research projects and in the practice of design. TOC 284 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 285  List of publications List of publications Journal articles: Fonseca, J. A., Estévez-Mauriz, L., Forgaci, C., & Björling, N. (2017). Spatial heterogeneity  for environmental performance and resilient behavior in energy and transportation systems.  Computers, Environment and Urban Systems, 62, 136–145. https://doi.org/10.1016/j. compenvurbsys.2016.11.001 Estévez-Mauriz, L., Fonseca, J. A., Forgaci, C., & Björling, N. (2016). The livability of spaces:  Performance and/or resilience? Reflections on the effects of spatial heterogeneity in transport  and energy systems and the implications on urban environmental quality. International Journal of Sustainable Built Environment. https://doi.org/10.1016/j.ijsbe.2016.10.001 Conference papers: Forgaci, C., & Timmeren, A. van. (2014). Urban Form and Fitness: A Space-Morphological Approach to  General Urban Resilience. In Proceedings of the 20th International Sustainable Development Research Conference (pp. 213–223). Trondheim: Norwegian University of Science and Technology. Forgaci, C., & Timmeren, A. van. (2014). A Spatial-Hormetic Approach to Urban Resilience. In Urban Regions under Change: Towards Social-Ecological Resilience. Hamburg: HafenCity University. Alexandrescu, M., Forgaci, C., & Ionescu, A. I. (2016). Urban Scaffolding: A Topological Design Tool.  In C. Dahl, L. Diedrich, G. Lindholm, V. Vicenzotti, & N. Vogel (Eds.), Beyond Ism: The Landscape of Landscape Urbanism Conference Proceedings. Alnarp: Swedish University of Agricultural Sciences. Theses: Forgaci, C. (2013). Bucharest: Between North and South (Master's thesis, Delft University of  Technology, Delft, Netherlands). Retreived from http://resolver.tudelft.nl/uuid:bd583cbe-a1b3- 4067-a165-f1070cf1263f Forgaci, C. (2010). Limita intre oraş şi apă. Morfologia limitei la apă in imaginea si structura urbană (Unpublished master's thesis). “Ion Mincu” University of Architecture and Urbanism, Bucharest,  Romania. Articles in professional magazines: Forgaci, C. (2016). The Conditions of Bucharest-South Urbanity. Zeppelin, 144(December  2016-February 2017), 67–69. Alexandrescu, M., Forgaci, C., & Ionescu, A. I. (2016). 342,914 km de eșafodaj. O strategie de  reintegrare spațială a salbei de lacuri a râului Colentina / 342,914 km of scaffolding. A spatial strategy  for the disjointed Colentina lakes in Bucharest. Zeppelin, 142(Iunie 2016-August 2016), 164–169. Forgaci, C. (2015). O vale restructurată între nord și sud. Zeppelin, 132, 68–72. TOC 286 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 287 Appendices Appendices Appendix A  Interview schedule Appendix B  List of interviewed experts Appendix C  Example of a transcribed, translated and coded expert interview Appendix D  Summary of the QDA of the expert interviews Appendix E  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest’s URCs Appendix F  Application procedure published on the workshop website Appendix G  List of selected participants Appendix H  Workshop calendar Appendix I  Example of a workshop handout: Day 1 Appendix J  Example of base maps: site D3 Appendix K  Example of a daily evaluation form: Day 1 Appendix L  Example of a summary of daily evaluation results Appendix M  Post-workshop evaluation form Appendix N  Summary of the interviews with the workshop participants Appendix O  The design projects developed in the workshop Appendix P  The jury’s evaluation sheet for the final presentation TOC 288 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 289 Interview schedule Appendix A  Interview schedule Interviewee / Persoană intervievată: .……………………………………………… Length / Durată: approx. 1h Date / Data: ……………………………………………………………………………………… Questionnaire / Chestionar Part I [Problem definition 1: general problems/potentials of Bucharest and how those problems relate  to the two rivers / Definirea problemei 1: probleme/potențiale generale ale orașului București și cum  acestea se relaționează cu cele două râuri] 1. What do you think are the three most important problems of Bucharest in terms of urban  development? / Care considerați că sunt cele mai importante trei probleme ale orașului București din  punctul de vedere al dezvoltării urbane? 1. ……………………………. 2. ……………………………. 3. ……………………………. 2. What do you think are the three most important potentials of Bucharest in terms of urban  development? / Care considerați că sunt cele mai importante trei potențiale ale orașului București din  punctul de vedere al dezvoltării urbane? 1. ……………………………. 2. ……………………………. 3. ……………………………. 3. Do you think the rivers crossing the city play an important role in addressing those problems/ potentials? / Credeți că cele două râuri joacă un rol important în aceste potențiale/probleme? Dâmbovița:   (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) Colentina:  (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) Part II [Problem definition 2: problems/potentials of the two rivers / Definirea problemei 2: probleme  și potențiale ale celor două râuri] 4. What do you think are the three main problems of Dâmbovița/Colentina? / Care considerați că  sunt cele mai importante trei probleme ale râului Dâmbovița/Colentina? Dâmbovița:   1. ……………………… 2. ……………………… 3. ……………………… Colentina:   1. ……………………… 2. ……………………… 3. ……………………… 5. What do you think are the three main potentials of Dâmbovița/Colentina? / Care considerați că  sunt cele mai importante trei potențiale ale râului Dâmbovița/Colentina? Dâmbovița:   1. ……………………… 2. ……………………… 3. ……………………… Colentina:   1. ……………………… 2. ……………………… 3. ……………………… 6. What do you think are three main function that Dâmbovița/Colentina should provide to the city? /  Care considerați că sunt cele mai importante trei funcții pe care cele două râuri le oferă orașului? Dâmbovița:   1. ……………………… 2. ……………………… 3. ……………………… Colentina:   1. ……………………… 2. ……………………… 3. ……………………… TOC 290 Integrated Urban River Corridors Part III [Problem definition 3 / Definirea problemei 3] 7. Do you consider that Dâmbovița/Colentina is a physical barrier? / Considerați că Dâmbovița/ Colentina este o barieră fizică în oraș? Dâmbovița:   (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) Colentina:  (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) 8. Do you think that flooding is an issue along the two rivers of Bucharest? / Considerați că inundațiile  sunt o problemă în cazul celor două râuri? Dâmbovița:   (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) Colentina:  (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) 9. Does the city make use of the ecosystem services provided by the two rivers? / Se folosește orașul  de serviciile de ecosistem pe care cele două râuri le oferă? Dâmbovița:   (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) Colentina:  (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) 10. Is there a comprehensive multi-scalar plan/strategy for Dâmbovița/Colentina? / Există  strategii sau planuri multi-scalare pentru integrarea Dâmboviței/Colentinei în oraș? Dâmbovița:   (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) Colentina:  (Dezacord total) 1-2-3-4-5 (Acord total) Interview guide / Interviu Part IV [Social-ecological processes / Procese social-ecologice] 11. How would you describe the spatial relationship between Dâmbovița/Colentina and the urban  fabric surrounding it? / Cum ați descrie relația spațială dintre Dâmbovița/Colentina și țesutul urban  înconjurător? 12. To what extent do the rivers and the (built/unbuilt) spaces surrounding them accommodate  social-economic activities? / În ce măsură spațiile adiacente râurilor atrag activități social-economice? 13. To what extent do urban spaces adjacent to the river allow or hinder the development of  ecological processes? / În ce măsură spațiile adiacente râurilor permit dezvoltarea proceselor  ecologice? Part V [Trends / Tendințe] 14. Do you know about any projects/strategies/initiatives that try to integrate the rivers into the  city? / Ce proiecte/strategii/inițiative cunoașteți care încearcă să integreze cele două râuri în oraș? 15. What is your opinion about the way current urban plans/strategies address the two rivers? /  Ce părere aveți despre felul în care planurile care reglementează orașul în prezent adresează cele două  râuri? 16. How do you think the two river corridors should be governed (at what scale(s), and to  what extent; within which administrative boundaries)? / Cum (la ce scară/scări, sub ce formă  administrativă) credeți că ar trebui planificate și gestionate cele două culoare hidrografice? TOC 291 Interview schedule Part VI 17. How do you personally use the two rivers? / Cum utilizați (ca locuitor al orașului) cele două  râuri? 18. To whom else should I talk to? / Cu cine îmi recomandați să mai stau de vorbă? 19. Do you have any suggestions for literature on planning for/with the two rivers in Bucharest? /  Aveți vreo sugestie bibliografică în legătură cu temele discutate? TOC 292 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 293  List of interviewed  experts Appendix B  List of interviewed  experts LIST OF INTERVIEWED EXPERTS Interviewee no.* Date Profession Affiliation and expertise Interviewee 01 22/04/2016 Architect Architect and teacher of architecture at UAUIM1, involved in the development of  TUB, later known as PIDU. Interviewee 02 26/04/2016 Architect Assistant professor at the Dep. of History & Theory of Architecture and Heritage  Conservation, Fac. of Architecture, UAUIM1, coordinator of the stART Dâmbovița  project. Interviewee 03 27/04/2016 Environmental  scientist Professor in environmental sciences at the Dep. of Regional Geography, UB2, expert  in environmental issues of Bucharest. Interviewee 04 27/04/2016 Urban & territorial planner Associate professor of urban and territorial planning at UAUIM1, expert in  territorial planning Interviewee 05 28/04/2016 Architect and journalist Chief editor at architecture magazine Zeppelin and associate professor of  architecture at UAUIM1, coordinator of several projects that engage the  professional and wider public. Interviewee 06 06/05/2016 Urbanist Professor in urbanism at UAUIM1, with vast experience in urban planning;  coordinated the Zonal Urban Plan for the North of Bucharest. Interviewee 07 09/05/2016 Architect and urbanist Arhitect who worked on large projects on Colentina and was part of the team  developing the General Urban Plan. Interviewee 08 09/05/2016 Landscape architect Associate professor of landscape architecture at UAUIM1, with vast experience  in landscape-related urban projects; coordinated the Zonal Urban Plan for  Dâmbovița. Interviewee 09 10/05/2016 Landscape architect Associate professor of landscape architecture at University of Agronomic Sciences  and Veterinary Medicine. Interviewee 10 10/05/2016 Hydrologist Professor of hydrology at the Dep. of Hydrology and Meteorology, UB2, with experience in anthropic pressures on the hydrological system of Bucharest. Interviewee 11 10/05/2016 Urbanist Professor of urban design at UAUIM1,  with vast experience in urban planning;  coordinated the Zonal Urban Plan for Bucharest’s Central Zone, and Bucharest  Strategic Concept 2035 (CSB2035). Interviewee 12 11/05/2016 Urban planner Associate professor of urban planning at UAUIM1, with expertise in urban policies  and management in Bucharest; coordinator of Bucharest Strategic Concept 2035  (CSB2035). Interviewee 13 11/05/2016 Urban planner Professor of urban planning at UAUIM1, with experience in (national,regional and  county level) territorial planning. Interviewee 14 12/05/2016 Urban designer Associate professor in urbanism at UAUIM1, expert in urban morphology; studied  the relationship of the two rivers with the urban fabric. Interviewee 15 12/05/2016 Architect Former Chief Architect at the Municipality of Bucharest. Interviewee 16 12/05/2016 Architect and Entrepreneur Dâmbovița Smart River (DSR); initiator of TUB/PIDU, DSR; representative of the  private sector. Interviewee 17 14/05/2016 Urban designer La Firul Ierbii, Wolfhouse Productions; grassroots initiator. Interviewee 18 16/05/2016 Urban planner UAUIM, PUG2020; works at the new General Urban Plan (2020). Interviewee 19 16/05/2016 Cultural anthropologist Professor of sociology at NUPSPA and leading Romanian cultural anthropologist. Interviewee 20 16/05/2016 Urban sociologist Assistant professor of urban sociology at UAUIM, PhD thesis in urban sociology on  Bucharest. Interviewee 21 17/05/2016 Urban planner Professor of urban design and planning at UAUIM; coordinator of the new General  Urban Plan (2020). Interviewee 22 17/05/2016 Urban designer Author of a blog popular blog dealing with urban issues in Bucharest *All interviews have been anonymised. 1 UAUIM – “Ion Mincu” University of Architecture and Urbanism, Bucharest; 2 UB – University of Bucharest; 3 UASMV - University of Agronomic Sciences and Veterinary Medicine, Bucharest; 4 NUPSPA - National School of Political Science and Public Administra- tion, Bucharest. TOC 294 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 295  Example of a transcribed, translated and coded expert interview Appendix C  Example of a transcribed, translated  and coded expert interview Appendix 4.3: Example of a transcribed and coded expert interview Interviewee: prof. Cristian Iojă Code: i03 Affiliation: Dep. of Regional Geography and Environment, University of Bucharest; Centre for Environmental Research. Expertise: M.Sc. in Sustainable Management of Water Resources; PhD in Geography at the University of Bucharest; President of the Society for Urban Ecology – South Eastern Europe Chapter (2015-). “The research activities are focused on environmental assessment of different land-uses in urban areas, understanding the relation between built-up and green infrastructure, socio-economic drivers and promotion of urban sustainable planning.” (http://www.unibuc.ro/prof/ioja_i_c/, accessed 06-06-2016) Relation to the topic: Expert in environmental issues of Bucharest Date: 27-April-2016 Location: University of Bucharest Length: 1h20min. Main quotes: Notes: European cases mentioned: Munich, Isar; Dresden, Elbe; Lyon, Rhône; Ljubljana, Ljubljanca. Bibliography: - Report of a project financed by ESPON, a comparison between Bucharest, Athens and Sofia, called ‘GROSEE’, a metropolitan approach to Bucharest; - Articles on the quality of water and the lakes of Bucharest by the interviewee, available on his website. Processed: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 fferent land- e, est, Athens Q1: I think that the main problem, if there’s a no.1, is about the imbalance between built and unbuilt. …the fact that this tendency of replacing everything that is open, is quite evident and it already has serious projections, not only in the quality of life of people, but also in the fact that Bucharest often does not have many opportunities for future development anymore. Then, also as an urbanistic problem [no.2], I think that the chaotic development of both buildings and infrastructure...this is another relevant aspect. Third, another problem is connected to the peripheries, the fact that B.—also in the interior as we do not only refer to the position of peripheries in a structural way—does not manage its peripheries as it should… the poor management of peripheries, that are not only this area […] and Ferentari; we refer, to a certain extent to the historical center of B too, which has some areas that have more the appearance of a periphery…or more this part with Sf. Gheorghe and all this area towards Viitorului, which are former peripheries of Bucharest that the city never integrated from a functional p.o.v. […] From a social and urbanistic p.o.v. these areas kept their peripherial character. There are just a few discontinuities from the communist period created by the resiedential blocks that blocked their visibility. But, from a structural p.o.v., socially, those are peripheries that are very difficult to integrate. Q2: […] On one hand there are the abandoned land…rather large surfaces of abandoned land that are inside the city and which at this moment have a rather toxic management, but in perspective they can be elements of potentials. Another potential is connected to population…the largest concentration of human capital…meaning that here is where the worst and the best of Romania gather. Last but not least, also as a potential in urban development, are the built spaces…especially the office developments that were built in the last years, which are still very under-rated/capitalized. I refer here to everything that’s office locations…those are buildings that allow B to develop very much in this direction. [Do B_POT_SOC-ECN_office areas… Last b ut not least, also as a p otential in urb an d evelop m ent, are … B_POT_SPA-MOR_spatial rese… O n one h… B_PRB_PLA-GOV_poor interac… T h ird , anoth er… B_PRB_SPA-MOR_the overocc… I th ink th at th e m ai… B_POT_SOC-ECN_human capi… A noth er p … B_PRB_SPA-MOR_chaotic urb… I th in… TOC 296 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 297  Example of a transcribed, translated and coded expert interview TOC 298 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 299  Example of a transcribed, translated and coded expert interview TOC 300 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 301  Example of a transcribed, translated and coded expert interview TOC 302 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 303  Summary of the QDA of the expert interviews Appendix D  Summary of the QDA of the expert interviews TOC 304 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 305  Summary of the QDA of the expert interviews TOC 306 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 307  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs Appendix E  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs The following pages present the indicators selected for the assessment of URC Dâmbovița and URC  Colentina in Chapter 6, as summarised in Table.App.E.1. Each indicator includes: a definition, the  results on the scale of the URC, an illustration of a corridor segment, and data- or implementation- specific notes. SELECTED INDICATORS URC Connectivity Longitudinal Social A.1.1.1a Slow mobility routes - continuitiy URC Dâmbovița A.1.1.1b Slow mobility routes - % URC Dâmbovița Ecological A.2.1.1a Landscape connectivity - connected components URC Dâmbovița Lateral Social A.1.2.1a Accessibility - network URC Dâmbovița, URC Colentina A.1.2.1c Accessibility - visitors URC Dâmbovița A.1.2.3a Crossability - linear density of crossings URC Dâmbovița A.1.2.3b Crossability - river width URC Dâmbovița Ecological A.2.2.1 Presence of transversal corridors URC Dâmbovița A.2.2.3 Sinuosity URC Dâmbovița Vertical Social A.1.3.1a Contact with water - points URC Dâmbovița Ecological A.2.3.1 Presence of ecotones URC Dâmbovița Spatial capacity Diversity Social B.1.1.1a Diversity of land uses—patch richness density URC Dâmbovița Ecological B.2.1.1 Biodiversity—presence of species-rich areas URC Dâmbovița Quality Social B.1.2.1a Visual permeability - % of visible river space URC Dâmbovița Ecological B.2.2.4 Respect of natural dynamics URC Dâmbovița Porosity Social B.1.3.2a Waterfront constitutedness - configuration URC Dâmbovița Ecological B.2.3.1a Coverage - % open space URC Dâmbovița B.2.3.1b Coverage - % green space URC Colentina TABLE APP.E.1  Indicators selected for the assessment of URC Dâmbovița and URC Colentina. TOC 308 Integrated Urban River Corridors Continutiy of riverside slow mobility routes (A.1.1.1a) Definition: The presence and continuity of slow mobility routes along the river is measured at the scale of the  corridor segment as [1] absent; [2] discontinuous; [3] continuous. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – Bike path network within the corridor segment (OSM)79 – Water polygon within the corridor segment (OSM) – Buffer distance80 Implementation: 1 A buffer of 25m from the river polygon is created. To isolate the riverside slow mobility routes, the bike  path network is clipped with the 25m buffer. If the clipped network is empty (NULL), then the value [1] absent is assigned to the corridor segment and the following steps are skipped. 2 Another buffer of 25m is created from the end edges of the water polygon, i.e. the edges which  intersect the corridor segment boundary. To check the continuity of the bike path network across the  corridor segment, the clipped bike path network is intersected with the end segment buffers. If at least  one of the two end buffers does not intersect the bike path network, than the value [2] discontinuous is assigned and the following step is skipped. 3 If both end segments intersect the bike paths, then the network is checked for the number of  connected components. If the number of components is >1, then the value [2] discontinuous is assigned. Otherwise, the bike path network is considered to be [3] continuous. Results CS03: – Geometry: NOT NULL – No. of connected components: 1 – No. of connected ends: 1/2 – Continuity of riverside slow mobility routes: discontinuous 79  The OSM data used in this assessment needs to be confronted with the real-world situation, as some bike ways may not be in fact  usable. 80  In case of River Dâmbovița, a buffer distance of 25m was considered to be sufficient for the selection of riverside bike paths. A larger  buffer might be needed in other cases, therefore it needs to be determined according to the specific configuration of the riverfront  that is being assessed. TOC 309  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km 0 500m Segment boundary LEGEND River surface continuous discontinuous absent CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 Bike path network Riverside bike paths FIGURE APP.E.1  Continuity of slow mobility routes along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 absent 1 CS02 absent 1 CS03 discontinuous 2 CS04 continuous 3 CS05 discontinuous 2 CS06 absent 1 CS07 absent 1 CS08 absent 1 CS09 absent 1 TABLE APP.E.2  Results of indicator A.1.1.1a. TOC 310 Integrated Urban River Corridors Percentage of riverside slow mobility routes (A.1.1.1b) Definition: This indicator measures the percentage of waterside slow mobility routes out of the total length of the  riverside paths. The following three-point scale is used: [1] <50%; [2] ≥50 or <75%; [3] ≥75%. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – River polygon (OSM: nature=water + waterway=riverbank)81 – Road network within the corridor segment (OSM: highway=*) – Bike path network within the corridor segment (OSM: highway=cycleway OR highway=pedestrian OR  highway=path OR highway=footway OR highway=bridleway) – Buffer distance82 Implementation: 1 A buffer of 25m from the river polygon is used to clip the road segments. 2 In order to outline the riverbanks, the river polygon is transformed into lines and the end segments— that is, the lines intersecting the corridor segment boundary— are removed. 3 The bike paths are extracted from the clipped road segments. Both the clipped road segments and the  extracted bike paths are buffered with 5 meters. The two buffers are then intersected with riverbanks. 4 The percentage of slow mobility routes is calculated from ratio between the lines resulted from the  intersection of the clipped road buffer with the riverbanks (LR) and from the clipped bike path buffers  with the riverbanks (LBP) respectively. Results CS03: – LR= 4066,7m – LBP= 2222,8m – Percentage of riverside slow mobility routes: 55% 81  If the river polygon is interrupted by bridges, the polygon needs to be completed before it can be used as an input. 82  In case of River Dâmbovița, a buffer distance of 25m was considered to be sufficient for the selection of riverside bike paths. A larger  buffer might be needed in other cases, therefore it needs to be determined according to the specific configuration of the riverfront  that is being assessed. TOC 311  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m 100 80 60 40 20 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 75% 50% 98% 55% 0% 0% 0% 0% 0% 0% 36% Riverside paths Riverside bike paths FIGURE APP.E.2  Percentage of slow mobility routes along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 0.00% 1 CS02 0.00% 1 CS03 54.66% 2 CS04 98.25% 3 CS05 35.72% 1 CS06 0.00% 1 CS07 0.00% 1 CS08 0.00% 1 CS09 0.00% 1 TABLE APP.E.3  Results of indicator A.1.1.1b. TOC 312 Integrated Urban River Corridors Network accessibility (A.1.2.1a) Definition: Network accessibility83 is indicated by the percentage of the total length of riverside segments  classified into low, medium and high local integration (R500m), compared to local integration  (R500m) of the road network of the whole city. Values: [1] low, when medium and high values of local  integration are below city low values; [2] medium, when medium values are higher than city values,  and high values are lower than city values; [3] high, when high values are higher than city values. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – River polygon (OSM: nature=water + waterway=riverbank)84 – Road network of the city (OSM: highway=*) – Buffer distance85 Implementation: 1 Before performing the analysis on the road network on city scale, isolated components are excluded  from the network and the OSM road centrelines are simplified using the ArcGIS tools for Topological  Inconsistency and Line Simplification proposed by Kimon Krenz (2017).86 2 Space Syntax analysis of local integration R500m is performed for the city with the SS toolkit in QGIS. 3 The result of the analysis is classified in quantiles into [1] low; [2] medium; and [3] high values. 4 A buffer of 25m from the river polygon is used to isolate riverside paths from the classified network.87 5 Network accessibility in the corridor segment is evaluated as follows: – If the total percentage of the total length of riverside paths classified as high is more than the  percentage of all road segments of the city with high value, than the score is [3] high; – Else if the total percentage of the total length of riverside paths classified as medium is more than the  percentage of all road segments of the city with medium value, than the score is [2] medium; – Else the score is [1] low. Results for CS03: – Percentage of road segments with high value: 8,68% < city high value 15,50% – Percentage of road segments with medium value: 43,63% > city medium value 23,95% – Percentage of road segments with low value: 47,69% < city low value 60,56% – Network accessibility: 2 83  In Space Syntax theory integration is a measure of accessibility (e.g. Hillier, 2012). 84  If the river polygon is interrupted by bridges, the polygon needs to be completed before it can be used as an input. 85  In case of River Dâmbovița, a buffer distance of 25m was considered to be sufficient for the selection of riverside bike paths. A larger  buffer might be needed in other cases, therefore it needs to be determined according to the specific configuration of the riverfront  that is being assessed. 86  The workflow presented by Krenz (2017) includes two more steps: Dual Line Removal and Road Detail Removal. The algorithms  used in those steps haven’t given satisfying results and were excluded from this workflow. On the other hand, the algorithms  addressing Topological Inconsistency and Line Simplification have reduced considerably the amount of road segments without  altering the results of the analysis. 87  In case of River Dâmbovița, a buffer distance of 25m was considered to be sufficient. The buffer is case specific and needs to be  determined according to the specific configuration of the riverfront that is being assessed. TOC 313  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m 100 80 60 40 20 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 City 1 2 2 3 3 2 2 1 1 Low local integration Medium local integration High local integration FIGURE APP.E.3  Network accessibility along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT PLEN1 PLEN2 PLEN3 INDEX CS01 85.86% 11.39% 2.75% 1 CS02 65.36% 30.70% 3.94% 2 CS03 47.69% 43.63% 8.68% 2 CS04 45.31% 36.15% 18.54% 3 CS05 32.71% 51.46% 15.82% 3 CS06 30.90% 67.10% 2.00% 2 CS07 52.26% 37.51% 10.23% 2 CS08 73.54% 15.41% 11.05% 1 CS09 90.84% 4.72% 4.45% 1 TABLE APP.E.4  Results of indicator A.1.2.1a. TOC 314 Integrated Urban River Corridors Public transport accessiblitiy (A.1.2.1c) Definition: Accessibility of the river space by pedestrians from public transport stops (bus, tram, metro) per  corridor and river segment. This indicator shows the percentage of the total river length accessible by  public transport in a 500m distance. Values: [1] below 50%; [2] medium 50%-75%; [3] above 75%. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – River polygon (OSM: nature=water + waterway=riverbank)88 – Road network within the corridor segment (OSM: highway=*) – Metro, bus and tram stops (OSM: railway=station + highway=bus_stop + railway=tram_stop) – Radii for bus/tram stops and metro stations – Buffer distance89 Implementation: 1 Metro stops in a search distance of 500m and bus/tram stops in a search distance of 250m around  the corridor segment boundary are selected as potential access points from the public transport  network to the river.90 2 Riverside paths are clipped from the road network with a buffer of 25m from the water polygon. 3 Service areas are calculated from the bus and tram stops (250m) and from the metro stops (500m).  The two service areas are merged. The percentage of the riverside paths which are included in the  merged service area provides the value of this indicator, as follows: [1] < 50%; [2] 50-75%; [3] > 75%. Results for CS03: – Length of riverside paths inside the compond service area: 4066,7m – Length of riverside paths inside the compond service area: 4066,7m – Public transport accessibility: 100% 88  If the river polygon is interrupted by bridges, the polygon needs to be completed before it can be used as an input. 89  In case of River Dâmbovița, a buffer distance of 25m was considered to be sufficient for the selection of riverside bike paths. A larger  buffer might be needed in other cases, therefore it needs to be determined according to the specific configuration of the riverfront  that is being assessed. 90  These values represent distances that people are willing to walk to/from public transport stops. Search distances outside the  boundaries of the corridor segment were selected accordingly. TOC 315  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m 100 80 60 40 20 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 75% 50% 98%100% 4% 80% 87% 64% 96% 48% 83% Tram/bus stops Compound service area Metro stops FIGURE APP.E.4  Public transport accessibility along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 3.674% 1 CS02 79.94% 3 CS03 100.00% 3 CS04 98.49% 3 CS05 82.57% 3 CS06 86.96% 3 CS07 63.89% 2 CS08 96.45% 3 CS09 48.36% 1 TABLE APP.E.5  Results of indicator A.1.2.1c. TOC 316 Integrated Urban River Corridors Crossability - linear density of bridges (A.1.2.3a) Definition: The linear density of pedestrian/bike bridges (number of crossings/km) (Silva et al., 2004; 2006;  2013) indicates to what extent the river is perceived as a barrier to transversal movement. The scale is  determined based on the minimum plausible and maximum plausible number of pedestrian bridges  per corridor segment. Silva et al. use a maximum plausible value of 4 bridges/km. Values: [1] 0-1 bridge/km; [2] 2-3 bridges/km; [3] ≥4 bridges/km. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – River centreline (OSM: waterway=river)91 – Bridge lines (OSM: bridges=yes) Implementation: 1 To obtain the length of the river (LR), the river centreline is dissolved and clipped to the corridor  segment boundary. 2 The bridges are obtained from the OSM data as follows: – In order to simplify multi-lane roads the OSM road segments labeled with ‘bridge=yes’ are merged  with the ArcGIS tool Merge Divided Roads. A merge distance of 5 meters is used. – The merged road lines are intersected with the river centreline. The resulting intersection points  represent the bridges across the river. The number of bridges (B) is obtained by counting the bridges  within the corridor segment boundary. Bridges on shared corridor segment boundaries are counted in  both corridor segments. 3 The linear density of crossings is B / Lr. Results for CS03: – B = 6 – Lr = 2,2km – Linear density of crossings = 2,72 bridges/km 91  In some cases the definition waterway=stream may need to be added to the selection. The river line must be dissolved before used  as an input. TOC 317  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m 4 3 5 2 1 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 4 bridges/km 3,54 2,72 0,64 2,83 3,97 2,45 1,16 0,91 2,77 Bridge River centreline FIGURE APP.E.5  Crossability - linear density of bridges along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 0.64 1 CS02 2.83 2 CS03 2.72 2 CS04 3.54 2 CS05 2.77 2 CS06 3.97 2 CS07 2.45 2 CS08 1.16 2 CS09 0.91 1 TABLE APP.E.6  Results of indicator A.1.2.3a. TOC 318 Integrated Urban River Corridors Crossability - river width (A.1.2.3b) Definition: Crossability is measured in function of the width of the river: [1] rarely bridged above 400m; [2] hard to bridge between 50-400m; or [3] easily bridged below 50m. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – River polygon (OSM: nature=water + waterway=riverbank)92 – River centreline (OSM: waterway=river)93 – Disaggregation step for width assessment: 50 m Implementation: 1 The tool Fluvial Corridor for ArcGIS94 is used to calculate perpendicular distances from the river  centreline to the edge of the river polygon. The distances are recorded in points on the river centreline  with a disaggregation step of 50m (i.e. river widths are calculated every 50 meters). 2 Each point is then classified on the three-point scale of the indicator. If all values are in one of the  three classes, the corridor segment is classified accordingly. If the points are not in the same class  (variable river width), then the average width (MEAN) determines the class of the corridor segment. Results for CS03: – MEAN: 27,19 m 92  If the river polygon is interrupted by bridges, the polygon needs to be completed and dissolved before it can be used as an input. 93  In some cases the definition waterway=stream may need to be added to the selection. The river line must be dissolved before used  as an input. 94  The tool is available at http://umrevs-isig.fr/node/34 Source: Roux, C., Alber, A., Bertrand, M., Vaudor, L., Piegay, H., submitted.  “FluvialCorridor” : A new ArcGIS package for multiscale riverscape exploration. Geomorphology TOC 319  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m Point of measurement 400 300 200 100 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 400m 50m 2627 573 31 22 22 34 3039 FIGURE APP.E.6  Crossability - river width along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 572.596 1 CS02 30.989 3 CS03 27.192 3 CS04 26.084 3 CS05 39.150 3 CS06 21.939 3 CS07 22.067 3 CS08 34.398 3 CS09 29.890 3 TABLE APP.E.7  Results of indicator A.1.2.3b. TOC 320 Integrated Urban River Corridors Contact with water - linear density of points of contact with water (A.1.3.1a) Definition: This indicator measures the number of points of access to water (e.g. stairs, beaches, piers). Values:  [1] < 2 contact points per km; [2] 2-4 contact points per km; [3] >4 contact points per km. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – River polygon (OSM: nature=water + waterway=riverbank)95 – River centreline (OSM: waterway=river)96 – Points of contact with water (Manually traced on satellite base map or collected via survey) Implementation: 1 Using a satellite base map or a site survey, points of contact with water are located on open  (uncovered) riverbank lines. The value of the indicator is given by the ratio of the total number of  contact points (PC) divided by the total length of open riverbanks (LRB). Results for CS03: – PC = 2 – LRB = 4,07km – Points of contact per km: 0,49 95  If the river polygon is interrupted by bridges, the polygon needs to be completed and dissolved before it can be used as an input. 96  In some cases the definition waterway=stream may need to be added to the selection. The river line must be dissolved before used  as an input. TOC 321  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m 4 3 5 2 1 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 4 points 2 points 1,33 0,49 0,13 0,28 0,66 0,00 0,00 0,00 3,31 Contact point River edge FIGURE APP.E.7  Linear density of points of contact with water along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 0.13 1 CS02 0.28 1 CS03 0.49 1 CS04 1.33 1 CS05 3.31 2 CS06 0.66 1 CS07 0.00 1 CS08 0.00 1 CS09 0.00 1 TABLE APP.E.8  Results of indicator A.1.3.1a. TOC 322 Integrated Urban River Corridors Landscape connectivity - actual (A.2.1.1a) Definition: Landscape connectivity is indicated by the number of connected components formed by existing  patches in the corridor. Values: [1] disconnected; [2] fragments; [3] connected. Input data: – Urban river corridor boundary – Corridor segment boundary – Land use data97 (OSM: landuse=aeroway_polygon, amenity_polygon, landuse_polygon, leisure_ polygon, natural_polygon, sport_polygon, and waterway_polygon) – Edge-to-edge (EE) distance: 200m Implementation: The tool MatrixGreen for ArcMap is used to perform the component analysis (overall patch network  performance), as follows: 1 Vegetated (ecologically functional) and non-vegetated (potential) patches are extracted from the  following OSM layers: aeroway_polygon, amenity_polygon, landuse_polygon, leisure_polygon,  natural_polygon, sport_polygon, and waterway_polygon. Isolated buildings and overlaps are removed. 2 The resulting patches are merged and converted into a patch set in MatrixGreen. Links with a  maximum edge-to-edge (EE) distance of 200m98 are created. 3 A component analysis of the resulting patch set and links determines the number of connected  components in the corridor. If there is one major component crossing the whole corridor the  URC is classified as [3] connected; if up to 5 largest components which do not cross the corridor  could be connected if the EE distance would be increased to 300m, the corridor is classified as [2] disconnected; if the corridor is still disconnected after the EE distance is increased, it is classified as [1] fragmented. Results for CS03: – Number of actual connected components: 1 97  Land cover data is currently only implied by other tags, such as some types of landuse=*, surface=* and natural=*. Landcover=*  to directly tag land cover types is among the proposed features in OpenStreetMap. (Source: http://wiki.openstreetmap.org/wiki/ Landcover) 98  The maximum distance of 200 m is based on Andersson, E, Bodin, O, “Practical tool for landscape planning? An empirical investiga- tion of network based models of habitat fragmentation”, in Ecography 32: 123-132, 2009. TOC 323  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m connected fragmented disconnected CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 Ecological stepping stone Link in the ecological network FIGURE APP.E.8  Landscape connectivity along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 disconnected 1 CS02 fragmented 2 CS03 connected 3 CS04 connected 3 CS05 fragmented 2 CS06 connected 3 CS07 connected 3 CS08 connected 3 CS09 connected 3 TABLE APP.E.9  Results of indicator A.2.1.1a. TOC 324 Integrated Urban River Corridors Presence of transversal corridors (A.2.2.1) Definition: Lateral connectivity is measured through the presence of transversal corridors connecting the riverside  vegetation to the surroundings. The vegetation on transversal corridors, from the river to the URC edge  are mapped and classified into: [1] absent; [2] intermittent; or [3] continuous. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – Road network within the corridor segment (OSM: highway=*) – Green spaces Implementation: 1 All side streets that intersect riverside paths within the corridor segment are selected as follows: – before running the analysis, create natural roads using Axwoman for ArcGIS;99 – all streets which partially overlap the streets clipped to the 25m buffer around the river polygon  are selected, while streets which completely overlap are considered to be riverside streets and are  excluded. 2 A buffer of 25m is created around green spaces in the corridor segments.  3 The length of transversal corridors is determined by intersecting the transversal roads (step 1) with the  buffered green spaces (step 2). 4 The presence of transversal corridors is expressed as a percentage of the total length  of transversal  green corridors (Ltgc)  out of the total length of transversal roads (Ltr). Results for CS03: – Ltgc = 6125 m – Ltr = 14597 m – Transversal green corridors: 42% 99  Axwoman 6.3 for ArcGIS 10.3.1 was used. Source: Jiang B. (2015), Axwoman 6.3: An ArcGIS extension for urban morphological  analysis, http://fromto.hig.se/~bjg/Axwoman/, University of Gävle, Sweden. TOC 325  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m 100 80 60 40 20 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 66% 33% 41%42%37% 31% 11% 20% 36% 80% 34% Transversal streets Transversal corridors FIGURE APP.E.9  Presence of transversal corridors along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 36,86% 2 CS02 30,61% 1 CS03 41,96% 2 CS04 40,50% 2 CS05 34,38% 2 CS06 10,98% 1 CS07 19,97% 1 CS08 36,19% 2 CS09 80,35% 3 TABLE APP.E.10  Results of indicator A.2.2.1. TOC 326 Integrated Urban River Corridors Sinuosity (A.2.2.3) Definition: Sinuosity is a measure of channel form complexity which may be used, within lateral connectivity,  as an indicator of (not the presence of, but the spatial conditions for) biodiversity. Sinuosity is “the  existence or absence of a meandering pattern in the landscape.” (Silva et al., 2004, pp.34-6) Sinuosity  can be determined by dividing channel length (Lr) with down-valley length (Lv). Values: [1] almost straight between 1,00-1,05; [2] sinuous between 1,05-1,50, and [3] meandering above 1,50. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – River centreline (OSM: waterway=river)100 Implementation: 1 The river centreline is clipped to the corridor segment boundary. 2 The down-valley length is determined by river centreline. 3 The sinuosity is determined with the formula Lr / Lv. Results for CS03: – Lr = 2,19km – Lv = 2,15km – Sinuosity: 1.02 (almost straight) 100  In some cases the definition waterway=stream may need to be added to the selection. The river line must be dissolved before used  as an input. TOC 327  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m 1.12 1.08 1.04 1.00 0.96 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 1,05 1,07 1,02 1,08 1,00 1,01 1,00 1,00 1,00 1,10 FIGURE APP.E.10  Sinuosity along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 1.08 2 CS02 1.00 1 CS03 1.02 1 CS04 1.07 2 CS05 1.10 2 CS06 1.01 1 CS07 1.00 1 CS08 1.00 1 CS09 1.00 1 TABLE APP.E.11  Results of indicator A.2.2.3. TOC 328 Integrated Urban River Corridors Presence of ecotones (A.2.3.1) Definition: The presence of ecotones is determined on the edges of the river and it is expressed as a percentage  of the total length of ecotones (Lec) out of the total length of river edges (Lre). Values are classified as  follows: [1] low for values below 25%; [2] medium for values greater than 25% but lower than 50%;  and [3] high for values higher than 50%. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – Classified riverbanks101 Results for CS03: – % Lec/Lre = 0% – Presence of ecotones: low. 101  The present assessment is based on classification of the presence of ecotones on riverbanks as seen on satellite imagery and in  photos. For a detailed and accurate classification of the riverbanks, a survey must be carried out. TOC 329  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m Segment boundary LEGEND River surface High Medium Low 80 60 100 40 20 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 50% 25% 0% 0% 0% 0% 0% 0% 0% 0% 0% FIGURE APP.E.11  Percentage of ecotones along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 0% 1 CS02 0% 1 CS03 0% 1 CS04 0% 1 CS05 0% 1 CS06 0% 1 CS07 0% 1 CS08 0% 1 CS09 0% 1 TABLE APP.E.12  Results of indicator A.2.3.1. TOC 330 Integrated Urban River Corridors Diversity of land uses—patch richness density (B.1.1.1a) Definition: Patch richness density (PRD),102 representing the number of different land use classes per 100  hectares within the study area, is used as a measure of land use diversity. Values: [1] PRD < 0,25; [2] 0,25 ≤ PRD < 0,75; [3] PRD ≥ 0,75. Input data: – URC and corridor segment boundaries – Urban Atlas data for the study area103 Implementation: 1 Urban Atlas data is reclassified as shown in Table.App.E.13. 2 To isolate land uses interacting with the river space, polygons within a buffer of 150m from the river  are selected from the Urban Atlas data. 3 The number of different classes (n) is recorded for each corridor segment. 4 The PRD values assigned to the corridor segments are given by the ratio PRD = n / Ars * 100, i.e. the number of different classes per 100 hectares. 5 Final values are normalised104 and classified as follows: [1] PRD < 0,25; [2] 0,25 ≤ PRD < 0,75; [3] PRD ≥ 0,75. Results for CS03: – Number of different classes: 4 – PRD = 4 / 123,77ha * 100 = 3,232 classes/100 ha – Normalised PRD = 0,413 > 0,25 [class 2] CLASS NAME UA CODE SEALING C1 Continuous urban fabric areas 11100 80-100% C2 Discontinuous dense urban fabric 11121 50-80% C3 Discontinuous urban fabric 11220, 11230, 11240, 11300 < 50% C4 Industrial/commercial areas 12100 C5 Transport infrastructure 12210, 12220, 12230, 12300,12400 C6 Mine/Dump sites, Construction/Land without use 13100, 13300, 13400 C7 Green areas and sport facilities 14100, 14200 C8 Agriculture, Forest, Water 20000, 30000, 50000 TABLE APP.E.13  Reclassification of Urban Atlas data (based on Prastacos et al., 2017). 102  PRD is a diversity measure of landscape composition. 103  Urban Atlas data is available for the Large Urban Zones of Europe (all urban areas above 100.000 inhabitants, according to the  Urban Audit). Source: https://www.eea.europa.eu/data-and-maps/data/urban-atlas#tab-gis-data 104  In absence of a reference (maximum) value, PRD values of all corridor segments of the corridor are normalised, with the highest  PRD value equal to 1. TOC 331  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m 1 0,8 0,6 0,4 0,2 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 0,75 0,25 0,68 0,41 0,14 0,32 1,00 0,67 0,23 0,07 0,62 Different land uses FIGURE APP.E.12  Diversity of land uses - patch richness density along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 0.138 1 CS02 0.316 2 CS03 0.413 2 CS04 0.678 2 CS05 0.620 2 CS06 1.000 3 CS07 0.667 2 CS08 0.225 1 CS09 0.071 1 TABLE APP.E.14  Results of indicator B.1.1.1a. TOC 332 Integrated Urban River Corridors Visual permeability—% visible river space (B.1.2.1a) Definition: Visual permeability is an indicator of spatial quality that shows the percentage of visible open space  within the river space. Values: [1] low visibility, when lower than 25%, [2] medium visibility between 25% and 75%, and [3] high visibility above 75%. Input data: – Corridor segment boundaries – Digital elevation model105 – Buffer from river edges: 150m – Buildings (OSM) Implementation: 1 A digital elevation model (DEM) and buildings within the corridor are used as input to a viewshed  analysis. The viewshed analysis is performed from the river edges. 2 A 150m buffer is created along the river edges. 3 The percentage of visible open space is given by dividing the total visibility area (Avis) by the total area  of the buffer (Atot) within the corridor segment. Values are classified as [1] low visibility, when lower than 25%, [2] medium visibility between 25% and 75%, and [3] high visibility above 75%. Results for CS03: – Avis= 331.866 m2 – Atot = 666.947 m2 – Visible river space: 49,8% 105  For the digital elevation model, 30m resolution SRTM data was used. (USGS, 2017) TOC 333  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface Viewshed Buildings 0 500m 100 80 60 40 20 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 75% 25% 44%50% 79% 57% 44% 29% 37% 55% 38% FIGURE APP.E.13  Visual permeability—% visible river space along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 79.198% 3 CS02 57.286% 2 CS03 49.759% 2 CS04 44.412% 2 CS05 37.922% 2 CS06 43.536% 2 CS07 28.944% 2 CS08 36.684% 2 CS09 54.605% 2 TABLE APP.E.15  Results of indicator B.1.2.1a. TOC 334 Integrated Urban River Corridors Waterfront constitutedness—configuration (B.1.3.2a) Definition: Waterfront constitutedness is indicated by the percentage of the total length of built fronts  projected on the river edges out of the total length of the river edges, corrected with a coefficient  of fragmentation (standard deviation from maximum potential constitutedness). Values are  standardized and classified as: [1] value <= 50%; [2] 50% < value <= 75%; [3] value > 75%. Input data: – River edges (obtained from OSM river polygon) – Buildings (OSM) – URC boundary (traced on OSM road network) – RS boundaries (traced on OSM road network) Implementation:106 1 Perpendicular lines of 150m are generated every 10m from the river edges. 2 To determine the distance of the built front from the river, the perpendicular lines are intersected with  the buildings in the river front (i.e. buildings selected within a buffer of 150m from the river edges).  Lines with a length equal to 150m, indicating absence of a waterfront, are excluded. 3 The remaining lines are aggregated into polygons with a dissolved buffer of the lines comprised  between 45 and 50 meters (47.5 m). This has to be done when a distance of 100 m as considered to  be a break in the waterfront. The resulting polygons  are cut using the first and the last perpendicular  lines of each waterfront. 4 The buffers are intersected with the riversides to calculate the length of each riverfront. The  intersected lines and the perpendicular ones are spatially joined, summarizing the Standard Deviation  (STD). A coefficient (c) is assigned as follows: 1 if the STD is below 30 (this means that the waterfront  is constituted), 0.5 if the STD is more than 30. 5 Waterfront constitutedness for each corridor segment is calculated with the formula: Lwf × c( )∑ Ltot ×100 where Lwf is the length of each waterfront, Ltot is the total length of the riversides in each segment, and  c is the coefficient described at point 4. The final score is determined by classifying the value using the  following breaks: [1] value <= 50%; [2] 50% < value <= 75%; [3] value > 75%. Results for CS03: – Waterfront constitutedness: 76% 106  For the following workflow ArcGIS 10.5.0 was used. All features must be in the ETRS89_LAEA_Europe coordinate system. TOC 335  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface Buildings Measurement lines 0 500m 100 80 60 40 20 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 75% 50% 76%76% 16% 63% 100 93% 56% 12% 89% FIGURE APP.E.14  Waterfront constitutedness along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 16% 1 CS02 63% 2 CS03 76% 3 CS04 76% 3 CS05 89% 3 CS06 100% 3 CS07 93% 3 CS08 56% 2 CS09 12% 1 TABLE APP.E.16  Results of indicator B.1.3.2a. TOC 336 Integrated Urban River Corridors Biodiversity—presence of species-rich areas (B.2.1.1a) Definition: Species-rich areas in the corridor are mapped and classified as follows: [1] low, when no such area is present, [2] medium, when they are present in the proximity of the river, or [3] high, when species-rich areas are in direct contact with the river, i.e. they constitute part of the riparian space. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – Species-rich areas107 Results for CS03: – Biodiversity—presence of species-rich areas: low. 107  The present assessment is based on satellite imagery, literature and interviews. For a detailed and accurate inventory of species-rich  areas, this classification must be confronted with local biodiversity studies. In this case, only areas with potential for biodiversity or  direct contact with the landscape surrounding the city were taken into consideration. TOC 337  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m high medium low CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 FIGURE APP.E.15  Presence of species-rich areas along URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 medium 2 CS02 low 1 CS03 low 1 CS04 low 1 CS05 low 1 CS06 low 1 CS07 low 1 CS08 medium 2 CS09 medium 2 TABLE APP.E.17  Results of indicator B.2.1.1a. TOC 338 Integrated Urban River Corridors Respect of natural dynamics108 (B.2.2.4) Definition: The degree of disturbance to natural dynamics is indicated by the classification of river banks: [1] highly disturbed , i.e. very artificial, channelised, concrete bed and banks, [2] moderately disturbed i.e. artificial, channleised, concrete bed or banks, or [3] undisturbed, i.e. close to natural conditions. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – Classified riverbanks109 Results for CS03: – Respect of natural dynamics: highly disturbed. 108  This indicator is based on Silva et al. (2004, p.34). 109  The present assessment is based on satellite imagery. For a detailed and accurate classification of the degree of disturbance on the  riverbanks, a survey must be carried out. TOC 339  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface Undisturbed Moderately disturbed Highly disturbed 0 500m undisturbed moderately disturbed highly disturbed CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 FIGURE APP.E.16  The degree of disturbance along the banks of URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 highly disturbed 1 CS02 highly disturbed 1 CS03 highly disturbed 1 CS04 highly disturbed 1 CS05 highly disturbed 1 CS06 highly disturbed 1 CS07 highly disturbed 1 CS08 highly disturbed 1 CS09 highly disturbed 1 TABLE APP.E.18  Results of indicator B.2.2.4. TOC 340 Integrated Urban River Corridors Coverage - % total open space (B.2.3.1a) Definition: The percentage of the total area of open spaces (Pos) in the corridor segment out of the total area of  the corridor segment (Ars). Open spaces are all unbuilt spaces (Ars - Ab), excluding the area occupied by  road infrastructure (Ar) and water (Aw). Values: [1] below 50%; [2] medium 50-75%; [3] above 75%. Pos = Ars − Ab − Ar − Aw Ars ×100 Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – Buildings in the corridor segment (OSM: buildings=*)110 – Street polygons (UrbanAtlas) Results for CS03: – Built area: 97,2 ha – Open space: 282,1 ha – Coverage: 74% 110  Buildings  obtained form the OSM dataset may be incomplete. For a more accurate result, the analysis must be performed with  municipal data sources. TOC 341  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 0 500m 100 80 60 40 20 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 75% 50% 72%74%72% 79% 74% 77% 75% 86% 61% Open space FIGURE APP.E.17  Open space coverage in URC Dâmbovița, with detail of CS03. SEGMENT VALUE INDEX RS01 72% 2 RS02 79% 3 RS03 74% 2 RS04 72% 2 RS05 61% 2 RS06 74% 2 RS07 77% 3 RS08 75% 3 RS09 86% 3 TABLE APP.E.19  Results of indicator B.2.3.1a. TOC 342 Integrated Urban River Corridors Coverage - % total green space (B.2.3.1b) Definition: Green space coverage is indicated by the percentage (Pgs) of the total area of green spaces (Ags) out of  the total area of the corridor segment (Acs): Pgs = Ags Acs ×100 and it is classified as follows: [1] low below 20%; [2] medium between 20% and 40%; [3] high above 40%. Input data: – Corridor segment boundary – Land cover from classified multispectral satellite image111 Results for CS04: – Ags = 1,71 km2 – Acs = 4,05 km2 – Coverage: 42% Results for CS08: – Ags = 0,84 km2 – Acs = 5,16 km2 – Coverage: 16% SEGMENT VALUE INDEX CS01 33% 2 CS02 32% 2 CS03 29% 2 CS04 42% 3 CS05 29% 2 CS06 30% 2 CS07 27% 2 CS08 16% 1 CS09 22% 2 CS10 26% 2 CS11 28% 2 TABLE APP.E.20  Results of indicator B.2.3.1b. 111  For the classification, Sentinel-2 satellite imagery (Copernicus Sentinel data, 2017) was used. The land cover classification was  carried out with the Semi-Automatic Classification Plugin (SCP) for QGIS. Out of the land cover classes used in the classifica- tion—'built-up', 'water', 'vegetation', and 'bare soil'—, the class 'vegetation' was used in this indicator. TOC 343  Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 CS10 CS11 CS01 CS02 CS03 2 km0 URC-D URC-C 0 5 km 0 500m Segment boundary LEGEND River surface 50 40 30 20 10 0 CS01 CS02 CS03 CS04 CS05 CS06 CS07 CS08 CS09 CS10 CS11 Green space coverage 16% 42% 33% 32% 29% 29% 30% 27% 22% 26% 28% 40% 20% FIGURE APP.E.18  Green space coverage in URC Colentina, with detail of CS04 and CS08. TOC 344 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 345  Application procedure published on the workshop website Appendix F  Application procedure published on the workshop website Workshop website: https://urcb.weblog.tudelft.nl/ Application deadline: 15 January 2017 Who can apply? Application is open for young professionals, master students and doctoral candidates in the fields of  urban design and planning, landscape architecture, and architecture, who are familiar with the context  of Bucharest. Given the multi-disciplinary character of the workshop, young professionals or students  from connected fields, such as sociology, anthropology, geography, hydrology, civil engineering and  environmental studies are also encouraged to submit their application. How to apply? Please complete your application by filling in the online application form and by sending the following  three documents in PDF format to C.Forgaci@tudelft.nl: – A letter of motivation (in English or Romanian), no longer than two A4 pages, answering the following  questions: – Why do you want to join the workshop? – In case you are not from a design-related field (urban design and planning, landscape  architecture or architecture), have you had any design experience before? – What is your experience with working in multi-disciplinary teams? – Have you had any professional experience connected to the rivers of Bucharest? If so, please  describe it. – What do you think are the main challenges that the two rivers of Bucharest face? – How do you see the future of the two rivers? – A CV, no longer than two A4 pages. – A sample, no longer than one A4 page, of your work that can be any form of creative or professional  work (a project sample, a rendering, a research finding, etc.), including a brief description (one or two  sentences), that is representative for your interests, skills and knowledge. Please make sure that the  sample contains only one item. The application will be complete when the online application form has been filled in and the required  documents have been submitted. Selection criteria There is a limited number of places, therefore the applications will go through a selection process,  which will take into consideration the following criteria: – The motivation and background of the applicant. – The mix of disciplines required for the composition of the teams. At least 50% of the selected  participants need to be trained designers (urban designers or planners, landscape architects,  architects) and at least 20% need to be from a different discipline. – The availability of the applicant throughout the days of the workshop. – A good command of English. The selection will be made by the URCB steering committee at TU Delft. TOC 346 Integrated Urban River Corridors Fees Participation is free of charge. Lunch will be provided during the week to the workshop participants. Outcomes On the last day of the workshop, the workshop outcomes will be exhibited and discussed with local  experts and the international guests. The participants will receive a Certificate of Attendance. Questions? For any further questions, feel free to contact Claudiu Forgaci, C.Forgaci@tudelft.nl (in English or in  Romanian). TOC 347  List of selected participants Appendix G  List of selected participants LIST OF SELECTED PARTICIPANTS No. Name Occupation Affiliation Profession 1 Alexandra Mirona Man young professional graduated UT Cluj architect 2 Alexandru Mexi PhD candidate UB, graduate of USAMV landscape architect 3 Anca-Ioana Crețu young professional graduate of UAUIM architect 4 Andreea Toma master student UAUIM-U urbanist 5 Anita Stamatoiu young professional graduate of UAUIM architect, economist 6 Bianca-Melitta Tămășan young professional graduated TUD & TU Vienna architect 7 Cezar Contiu young professional UAUIM-U landscape architect 8 Christian Patriciu Popescu young professional graduate of UAUIM landscape architect 9 Cristina Stefan young professional graduate of UAUIM- urbanism visual artist 10 Cristina Wong post-master student EMU, TU Delft architect, urbanist 11 Cristina-Mihaela Iordache master student UAUIM architect 12 Daneiele Caruso PhD candidate Federico II, Naples urban planner 13 George Bouroș PhD candidate UB / biology conservation officer 14 Gertie van den Bosch post-master student EMU, TU Delft engineer-architect, urbanist 15 Giuliana Gritti post-master student EMU, TU Delft architect, urbanist 16 Iarina Tava young professional graduate of UAUIM architect 17 Ioana Eveline Raduta bachelor student UAUIM-U urbanism student 18 Irina Mateescu master student UAUIM-A architect 19 Iulia Dana Baceanu young professional graduated UAUIM architect 20 Jean-Baptiste Peter post-master student EMU, TU Delft architect, urbanist 21 Johanna Jacob young professional graduate of EMU, KUL urban designer 22 Karina Pitis master student Royal College of Art, London architect 23 Lucian-Ștefan Călugărescu master student UAUIM-A architect 24 Magda Baidan young professional PhD at TVES, Univ. of Lille 1,  graduate of UB geographer 25 Marcela Doina Dumitrescu master student UAUIM-U structural engineer, urban mobility expert 26 Maricruz Gazel post-master student EMU, TU Delft architect, urbanist 27 Monika Novkovikj post-master student EMU, TU Delft architect, urbanist 28 Ruxandra Grigoraș young professional UAUIM architect 29 Silvia Cazacu young professional graduated UAUIM architect 30 Simona Dolana master student UAUIM-U urban planner student 31 Uchil Rajat post-master student EMU, TU Delft architect, urbanist 32 Zhouyiqi Chen post-master student EMU, TU Delft landscape architect, urbanist TOC 348 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 349  Workshop calendar Appendix H  Workshop calendar TOC 350 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 351  Example of a workshop handout: Day 1 Appendix I  Example of a workshop handout: Day 1 TOC 352 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE APP.I.1  Spreads from the handout given to the participants on Day 1 of the workshop. TOC 353  Example of base maps: site D3 Appendix J  Example of base maps: site D3 TOC 354 Integrated Urban River Corridors FIGURE APP.J.1  Base maps for the Connector and the Sponge (reverse) and the Integrator on site D3. Original size: A1. TOC 355  Example of a daily evaluation form: Day 1 Appendix K  Example of a daily evaluation form: Day 1 I. The workshop 1.  What did you find most interesting today?  2.  What did you find most difficult today? 3.  Were you missing something during today’s sessions? 4.  How would you evaluate the workload today?   Not enough – The right amount of work – Too much 5.  Please rate today’s activities from 1 to 10: -  Morning seminar:   1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 -  Instrument training:   1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 -  Design session:  1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 -  Scale up! session:   1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 -  Reflection:     1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 II. The theme of the day 1.  How clear was the theme of the day connectivity? 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 2.  To what extent did you understand the property of interconnectedness? 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 3.  How useful was the theoretical introduction on today’s topic?  1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 III. The seminar 1.  Did you find the seminar useful for approaching your design assignment?   Not at all – Somehow – Very useful 2.  Please rate the seminar lectures from 1-10. -  Lecture 1:   1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 -  Lecture 2:   1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 IV. Today’s instrument: The Connector 1.  Was the instrument easy to use?   (not at all) 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 (very easy to use) 2.  Was the instrument useful?   (not at all) 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 (very useful) 3.  What would you improve? TOC 356 Integrated Urban River Corridors V. The design session 1.  How would you rate the afternoon design session of today? 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 VI. The team 1.  How would you rate team work today? 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10 2.  Do you have any other recommendations or observations? TOC 357  Example of a summary of daily evaluation results Appendix L  Example of a summary of  daily evaluation results TOC 358 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 359  Post-workshop evaluation form Appendix M  Post-workshop evaluation form The following questionnaire is included as it was originally administered via the online surveying  platform Qualtrics. Some adjustments have been made to interactive elements to improve their  readability on paper. Q1 Dear workshop participant, As a follow up to The Urban River Corridors of Bucharest design workshop that you attended between  4-10 March in Bucharest and in addition to the daily evaluation forms that you filled in during the  workshop, we prepared a final questionnaire, which is meant to collect your opinion on the whole set  of instruments. By filling in this questionnaire, you will complete the evaluation of the instruments. The questionnaire is anonymous and it takes approximately 10-15 minutes to complete. Your  progress will be saved, so you may stop anytime and resume later. The questionnaire will be available  until the 24 March, so please make sure you fill it in by that date. Press the next button below to proceed to the questionnaire. Q2 In this section you will evaluate the instrument Connector. As introduced in the workshop, the  Connector is an instrument which highlights and enforces the base structure of the city, that is,  both the natural and the urban space for movement. The tool has the following three topological  components: the explorer, which highlights the main urban structure parallel to the river; the enforcer,  which follows the edge of the river as closely as possible and in a continuous way; and the gatherer,  which is a transversal link that connects the two other components following important transversal  links. Based on this definition, the designer chooses where to place the three elements of the  Connector on a map of the existing space for movement, that is, the network of roads, alleys, walkways  and walkable surfaces of the urban area in question. Possible future connections are added to the map  too. Q3 Please rate from 1 to 10 the following statements: The Connector... ...was easy to use. (1) ...was useful for my team's design proposal. (2) Q4 Please rate the difficulty of the three elements of the Connector:  Difficult to use (1); Neither difficult nor easy to use (2); Easy to use (3). The explorer  1-2-3  The enforcer 1-2-3 The gatherer 1-2-3 Q5 What did you like about the Connector? Q6 What did you dislike about the Connector? Q7 What would you improve in the Connector? TOC 360 Integrated Urban River Corridors Q8 Please write down if you have any other observations or recommendations for the instrument  Connector. Q9 In this section you will evaluate the instrument Sponge. As introduced in the workshop, the Sponge  is an instrument that maximises the spatial capacity of the study area by: finding more space for water;  identifying and connecting ecological patches; integrating (1) and (2) with a network of public spaces.  The team maps all patches in the study area. Patches include green spaces, such as parks and gardens,  but also impervious surfaces, such as parking lots, industrial platforms, and brownfields. The team  discusses problems and potentials in the spatial configuration of the mapped patches. Q10 Please rate from 1 to 10 the following statements: The Sponge... ...was easy to use. (1) ...was useful for my design proposal. (2) Q11 Please rank the three aspects of the Sponge in the order of their difficulty: Difficult to use (1); Neither difficult nor easy to use (2); Easy to use (3). Space for water 1-2-3 Ecological patches  1-2-3  Public space    1-2-3  Q12 What did you like about the Sponge? Q13 What did you dislike about the Sponge? Q14 What would you improve in the Sponge? Q15 Please write down if you have any other observations or recommendations for the Sponge. Q16 In this section you will evaluate the instrument Integrator.  As introduced in the workshop, The  Integrator combines the maps of the previous two instruments - The Connector and The Sponge - in  order to identify spaces of strategic integration, answering to the following questions:   Where do The  Connector and The Sponge overlap? - potential for integration  Where are The Connector and The  Sponge missing? - need for integration  How do the two layers interact with geomorphology?  The  designer overlaps the results of The Connector and The Sponge on a base map of geomorphology and  identifies spaces of strategic social-ecological integration. Q17 Please rate from 1 to 10 the following statements: The Integrator... ...was easy to use. (1) ...was useful for my design proposal. (2) Q18 Please rate the following three aspects of the Integrator according to their difficulty: Difficult to use (1); Neither difficult nor easy to use (2); Easy to use (3). Identifying overlaps between The Connector and The Sponge        1-2-3 Identifying key areas where The Connector and The Sponge are missing or do not overlap  1-2-3 The overlap with geomorphology              1-2-3 Q19 What did you like about the Integrator? TOC 361  Post-workshop evaluation form Q20 What did you dislike about the Integrator? Q21 What would you improve in the Integrator? Q22 Please write down if you have any other observations or recommendations for the instrument  Integrator. Q23 In this section you will evaluate the instrument Scaler. As introduced in the workshop, the Scaler  is an instrument which has two functions: it evaluates the use of scales in the project and it looks  for scalar problems in the area of study. The designer reflects back and lists all the scales used in the  design process. The list then is classified in scale(s) of context (which explain the wider implications  of the project), scale(s) of focus (the scale(s) of the actual intervention), and scales of detail (which  illustrate and explain the way the intervention works). Scalar problems (lack of human scale in  urban space, scalar mismatches, etc.) are then discussed and integrated in the design proposal. Any  adjustments that The Scaler might require can be made to The Connector, The Sponge, and The  Integrator retroactively. Q24 Please rate from 1-10 the following statements: The Scaler... ...was easy to use. (1) ...was useful for my design proposal. (2) Q25 Please rank the following three aspects of the Scaler in the order of their difficulty: Difficult to use (1); Neither difficult nor easy to use (2); Easy to use (3). Listing and classifying the scales of the project        1-2-3  Identifying scalar problems on the site          1-2-3 Adjusting the design proposal to the scalar issues identified on the site    1-2-3 Q26 What did you like about the Scaler? Q27 What did you dislike about the Scaler? Q28 What would you improve in the Scaler? Q29 Please write down if you have any other observations or recommendations for the instrument  Scaler. Q30 In this section you will evaluate the whole set of instruments. Please think of the way the four  instruments worked together. Q31 Please rank the four instruments according to your preference (with the 1st as the most liked and  the 4th as the least liked). Drag the instruments to reposition them in the list. ______ The Connector (1) ______ The Sponge (2) ______ The Integrator (3) ______ The Scaler (4) Q32 Can any of the four instruments be left out? If yes, which one? TOC 362 Integrated Urban River Corridors Q33 Is there something missing from the set of instruments? Q34 Did you find the order of the instruments correct? If not, please rearrange them below in the order  that you think it would have worked better. If you agree with the proposed order, leave the list below  unchanged. ______ The Connector (1) ______ The Sponge (2) ______ The Integrator (3) ______ The Scaler (4) Q35 If you have any final remarks or recommendations related to the set of instruments, please write  them below. TOC 363  Summary of the interviews with the workshop participants Appendix N  Summary of the interviews with  the workshop participants FIGURE APP.N.1  Team C2 during the interview. Photo credit: Sebastian Apostol. TOC 364 Integrated Urban River Corridors TABLE APP.N.1  Interviews with the teams working on URC Dâmbovița in the design workshop. QUESTION D1 MORII LAKE D2 BASARAB-IZVOR SITE D3 NATIONAL LIBRARY D4 VĂCĂREȘTI LAKE 1. Which do you consider to be the greatest quality/ potential of your team? –  diversity of expertise and  educational backgrounds,  international team; –  we consider each other’s’  ideas; –  we might miss the leader; –  diversity of backgrounds,  we have architects, urban planners, engineers, land- scape architects; –  the variety, even our  backgrounds are close, we  have different approach- es; 2. Which do you consider the difficult parts about your teamwork? –  the concepts are new to  us and we tend to inter- pret them differently due  to our different expertise; –  diversity of expertise  slows down the process sometime; also, the  different educational  backgrounds and ap- proaches (makes it good  and difficult at the same  time); –  not really, maybe at first; –  the language, none of  us is an English native  speaker; –  the different approach- es, clashes in working  through scales (too much  in detail or too zoom out);  people who know the site  better, go into detail (not  always bad); 3. Which do you consider the best part about working together? –  the diversity of ideas fil- tered and shaped through good debate; –  the diversity of back- grounds and approaches; –  work pretty well together,  we have different edu- cational backgrounds;  we brainstorm and then  choose the best ideas; we  are devoted, engaged and we have imagination! –  pretty well, we also relate  well to other groups to discuss design on larger scales; 4. How do you work together? –  well –  smoothly, ideas come  well together; –  very well; –  there are debates, we  don’t know each other at  all, that was not necessar- ily bad; 5. What do you consider to be most challenging about your site? –  there is no relation  between people and their surroundings; –  renaturalisation and  how to make the strategy  transferable downstream  by using the scalar; –  the site complexity and  its understanding at different scales; Same as 7. Same as 7. 6. What do you consider to be the highest potential of your site? –  the massive surface of  water; –  there is high potential  but there is nothing to enhance it, nothing around it; –  the central location, very  crossed, high traffic, there are many heritage  landmarks, important  institutions; –  close to vibrant places  (Unirii Square, The His- torical City Centre), but no  connection to the water as there is no culture of public space near water in Bucharest; 7. What do you consider most challenging in work- ing on the corridor? –  working through scales,  understanding the relation of smaller project  interventions with the corridor; –  tackling with scales,  designing through scales;  coping with diversity and  complexity of the site;  instruments helped cope  with both, revealing the site’s potential and prob- lems; turning mapping  into the strategy; –  the river is a concrete  tube; extremely system- ized; –  rebuild the connection  between city and water as  the city turned its back to  the water, the river is in- visible to the inhabitants (in the city center); nature  was mastered; –  Romanians and Bucha- restians completely turn  their back to the river,  that is different from what  I know; As a Buchares- tian, I never realized the importance and potential  of the River; I wish I was  aware about Dâmbovița  as a child, children dream  a lot, now I am too practi- cal in my approach; >>> TOC 365  Summary of the interviews with the workshop participants TABLE APP.N.1  Interviews with the teams working on URC Dâmbovița in the design workshop. QUESTION D1 MORII LAKE D2 BASARAB-IZVOR SITE D3 NATIONAL LIBRARY D4 VĂCĂREȘTI LAKE 8. What was your favorite instrument? –  2x sponge: you can read  beyond appearance and  it merges the social with  natural; - 1x scalar; –  1x all of them; concepts  were abstract at first, but  as we apply them, we un- derstand how they work;  instruments helped to  work through scales and  helped strategic thinking; –  2x the sponge; –  2x the scalar; –  2x the connector; –  1x the sponge; –  1x the integrator; –  4x the sponge; 9. Name one word to de- scribe your river corridor. autistic; separation; potential; ignorance; barrier; invisible; division (north and south  are very different); contrast; distance (the distance be- tween me, city inhabitants  and the river); a machine (to conquer  floods, but not part of the  city life); artificial; challenge and a monument  of shame (the city doesn’t  rise up to the challenge); connection; potential; porosity; invisible; 10. Name one word to describe Bucharest. beautiful; potential; concrete; hectic; distractive; 3x contrast; contrast; complex; beautiful chaos; unique (all historical ‘scars’  are visible and beautiful); unfinished; dynamic; chaos; angry; 11. What was your favorite workshop moment? –  2x the scale up session-  interesting discussions and discoveries for all teams; –  2x lectures and seminars  to complete knowledge,  and the mix of experts  from the lectures, un- covering knowledge from  different backgrounds on  the same topic; –  2x the collage- the uto- pian exercise; all design  sessions were always nice; –  the final part when our  solution comes together; –  the interview (laughing),  the site visits, lectures, lunch, Cristian Tetelea’s  lecture (the ecologist); –  the whole configuration –  lunch also brought us all  together; TOC 366 Integrated Urban River Corridors TABLE APP.N.2  Interviews with the teams working on URC Colentina in the design workshop. QUESTION C1 GRIVIȚA LAKE C2 HERĂSTRĂU LAKE C3 FUNDENI LAKE C4 PANTELIMON LAKE 1. Which do you consider to be the greatest strength of your team? –  our different back- grounds, the mixed team  (from Bucharest and  international) helped to  understand the site from  different perspectives; –  different views on the  site: coupling in-depth  knowledge about the site  with the objectiveness,  when reading the site for the first time; –  very diverse experience in  education, expertise and  types of projects; –  different educational  background, different  experience stages; 2. Which do you consider the difficult parts about your teamwork? –  it’s hard to bring together  the different perspectives  and methods, we have  different understanding  of concepts, such as the notion of scale, we are all familiar with these  notions, but we have to explain that to the team;  and we start designing from different angles; –  didn’t find any difficulty; –  different visions; –  communication prob- lems, English is not  mother language for none  of us; –  different understanding  of the site; –  hard to bring together the  different approaches; 3.Which do you consider the best part about working together? –  despite difficulties, we  have a final project put  together; –  the understanding and  the good work through  scales; –  the two main back- grounds in our team: ar- chitecture and urbanism  made working through  scales an interesting experience; –  too early to tell; 4. How do you work together? –  ok –  well, ‘super cooperation’ –  it’s ok –  it’s hard 5. What do you consider to be most challenging about your site? –  how to work with the so- cial, the gated communi- ties, which are completely  enclosed from their  surrounding environment  and the lake, there is no  relationship with the water; –  hard to decide how much  to intervene and how to create a balance between nature and people through design, make it  accessible vs. protect it; –  our site is the centre of  the corridor; the site is  overused, too popular as an urban destination, but ‘isolated’ from the lake  natural system; –  we are trying to spread  people on the corridor, make our site a gate to  the other lakes in the  chain; –  relink our site to the  natural system; –  the diversity and complex  identities; –  how to preserve and  repair? –  the lack of utilities and  unplanned development; –  the urban expansion; –  bringing together un- structured parts; 6. What do you consider to be the highest potential of your site? –  the empty natural land,  that can be used to turn around the negative parts; –  raise awareness, prove  the value of nature; –  our site is a popular desti- nation in the city; Same as 5. 7. What do you consider to be most challenging in working on the corridor? –  the lakes were an unfin- ished project, develop- ment and occupation  on its shores was loose, organic, uncontrolled, so the site rewilded naturally  due to indifference, we  fear that connectivity can  destroy the site; Interscalarity, linking to the  other sites to release the pressure put on our site; the synthesis; Same as 5. –  the conflicting views and  opinions that different  stakeholders and special- ists have about the lakes; –  the fragmented land  ownership and private properties next to the  lake; >>> TOC 367  Summary of the interviews with the workshop participants TABLE APP.N.2  Interviews with the teams working on URC Colentina in the design workshop. QUESTION C1 GRIVIȚA LAKE C2 HERĂSTRĂU LAKE C3 FUNDENI LAKE C4 PANTELIMON LAKE 8. What is your favorite instrument? –  2x connector; –  2x sponge; –  the connector provides  very fast understanding  of the site and best to approach a complex  unknown context; –  the sponge, it helps you  understand how the site will integrate your  proposal; –  the sponge, also used in  ecology, is a great idea to  think about it as having  a mixed use: connect  people and nature at the same time; –  connector- we applied it  very differently; –  4x sponge; –  as we need to restore  nature, the sponge was important; –  the scaler was the most  difficult at first, but be- came natural and central  in our process further on; –  2x the sponge; –  1x the connector; –  1x the integrator; –  2x the sponge; –  2x the scaler; –  the Scaler has the poten- tial to put the river scape into a variety of contexts,  that may otherwise  remain hidden. It is not as  obvious as the other in- struments, which is pre- cisely why it can produce  surprising conclusions and outcomes. 9. Name one word to de- scribe your river corridor. fragmented; continuity; wild; relaxed; contrast; diversity; huge potential; contrast; openness; underworld; intimacy; diversity; diversity; nature; unity; unexpected; mystery; 10. Name one word to describe Bucharest. pollution; disorder; chaotic developments; fragmented; dramatic; dynamic; colourful; city of all possibilities; vibrant; home; Paris; grey; underdog; palimpsest; noise; crowded; confusion; expanse; 11. What was your favorite workshop moment? –  the site visit x2; –  the scale up session x2 –  nice to see different  observations and ap- proaches coming together  (diversity of approach  between teams); –  lunch; first drawings, the  instruments; the site  visits, fieldwork; –  the collage exercise; –  the scale up session; –  the evening talks; TOC 368 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC 369  The design projects developed in the workshop Appendix O  The design projects developed  in the workshop LIST OF THE DESIGN PROJECTS DEVELOPED IN THE WORKSHOP No. Project title Authors C1 Reclaiming the Shore, Lake Grivița Gertie van den Bosch, Ioana-Eveline Răduța, Karina Pitiș,  George Bouros C2 Opening the Gates: Decentralising, Re-orienting, Re-natu- ralizing Lake Herăstrău Rajat Uchil, Simona Dolana, Anca-Ioana Crețu, Iulia Dana  Băceanu C3 The Amphibian Communities of Fundeni Lake Johanna Jacob, Jean-Baptiste Peter, Andreea Toma, Iarina  Tava C4 The Hinge, Lake Pantelimon Anita Stamatoiu, Giuliana Gritti, Silvia Cazacu, Christian  Patriciu Popescu D1 Reinvent by Design, Lake Morii Monika Novkovikj, Ruxandra Grigoraș, Cezar Conțiu, Magda  Baidan D2 Dâmbovița From Barrier to Link, Mihai Vodă- Izvor site Maricruz Gazel, Cristina Ștefan, Marcela Doina Dumitrescu,  Alexandru Mexi D3 Closing the Gap, The National Library site Zhouyiqi Chen, Cristina-Mihaela Iordache, Alexandra  Mirona Man, Lucian-Ștefan Călugărescu D4 Linking Park, Lake Văcărești Cristina Wong, Daniele Caruso, Irina Mateescu, Bian- ca-Mellita Tămășan TOC 370 Integrated Urban River Corridors C1 Reclaiming the Shore, Lake Grivița Authors : Gertie van den Bosch, Ioana-Eveline Răduța, Karina Pitiș, George Bouros FIGURE APP.O.1  The project 'Reclaiming the Shore', Lake Grivița, team C1. Grivița lake is located in the upstream northwest part of the Colentina river, making it one of the  cleaner and more natural lakes at the fringes of Bucharest. The surrounding landscape is contested  by urban development and private ownership leading towards fragmentation of green areas and  ecological systems. With only two bridges, there is also a disconnection between the two sides of the  lake. The proposal aims to create awareness and interest in the natural aspects of the Colentina river  by reclaiming, restoring and protecting the shores from urban private development and transforming  them into sustainable green areas with minimal and natural interventions. In addition, this project  enforces connectivity and accessibility by a new bridge and a continuous pathway along the river beds.  The strategic site focusses on two big open spaces, acting as a starting point for further interest in development. It will attach to existing “connectors” with pedestrian and bicycle routes. In further  phases, more shores will be reclaimed and open spaces will be connected, acting as “stepping stones”  for ecological systems. An eco-duct will be created to make a natural connection between Grivița lake  and Baneasa forest. TOC 371  C2 Opening the Gates: Decentralising, Re-orienting, Re-naturalizing Lake Herăstrău On the southern bed of the river, a nature park will be created, with indigenous plantations to stabilize  the river banks, clean the water and attract fauna. Herb fields for the honey production will be added in  combination with allotment gardens as an interface between nature and community. On the northern  bed, an outdoor museum will be proposed, creating awareness and involvement of the community. On  the bigger scale, Grivița lake will reclaim its unique identity as a green ecological park, in the chain of  lakes between the cultural Mogoșoaia park and the recreational Herăstrău park.  The jury’s feedback: – The project includes many ideas, with a high level of complexity. It followed the workshop program  and developed an own methodology for reclaiming the shores of Lake Grivița. – A strong point is the emphasis on ecosystem services and how to build nature-based design ideas on  this principle, while a missing aspect is the economic dimension and the overview of actors is missing  the players of real estate. C2 Opening the Gates: Decentralising, Re-orienting, Re-naturalizing Lake Herăstrău Authors: Rajat Uchil, Simona Dolana, Anca-Ioana Crețu, Iulia Dana Băceanu FIGURE APP.O.2  The project 'Opening the Gates: Decentralising, Re-orienting, Re-naturalizing Lake Herăstrău', team C2. TOC 372 Integrated Urban River Corridors As a section of Colentina river, Lake Herăstrău is the most accessible, frequently visited and very  popular in Bucharest. Though this is a strength of the site, it is leading to overcrowding, excessive  human intervention, degradation of natural environment and thus, this lake does not mutually co- exist with the rest of the corridor. The gravity of this lake, caused by various factors (such as users’  types, real-estate value towards it), is underutilizing the potential of the other lakes along Colentina  corridor. In summary, isolation and lack of polarization of this lake park affects the economic, social  and ecological system of the Colentina river corridor, as well as the neighbourhoods around it.  Through the analysis done via the design instruments (the sponge, the connector, the integrator,  the scalar), the lecture series and site visits , we realise the importance of drawing on a strategy to  re-orient the users, such as daily users, seasonal users to other parks via nodes. Apart from this,  decomposing and re-distributing the elements of the park would enable a decentralised approach  towards the corridor, and it can potentially bring integrated and cohesive development along the  the river corridor, beyond our site. Finally, re-naturalising a submerged system layered by human  interventions would allow for more balanced socio-ecological hierarchies along the corridor and at the  larger scale lead to a better co-existence between the corridor and the city. The jury’s feedback: – Since Herastrău lake is already strongly developed as a self-standing park with its own identity  the team moved beyond the actual area of consideration and made a node analysis for the entire  landscape of Colentina corridor. – The approach is very conceptual and plays with the potential of green infrastructure for sustainable  transport (cycling, pedestrian routes). – A strong point is the integrated mobility concept which included the idea of an ecological network. – The project is definitively scalable, but it lacked detailing. C3 The Amphibian Communities of Fundeni Lake Authors : Johanna Jacob, Jean-Baptiste Peter, Andreea Toma, Iarina Tava Located on Colentina River, the Fundeni Lake offers a rich environment with an interesting diversity  of fauna, flora and communities. By walking along the lake, you might experience the openness of  your environment while finding yourself in an intimate relation with nature. This intimacy, which  is the main asset we want to enhance in this project, is reinforced by the proximity of “rural” built  areas (suburban areas), framed by the blocks perceived as a distant background of the surrounding  landscape. However, this strength is threatened by uncontrolled development, exaggerate privatization of land,  and the degradation of natural environment. In addition, existing communities live disconnected  from the natural environment. This is a result of lack of awareness, certain poverty and an exclusive  understanding of nature and culture. On the other hand, acknowledging how much health and happiness of human being is related to  nature, we face this paradoxical situation with a vision to generate an amphibious place with a more  symbiotic relation between the existing community and the River Corridor of Colentina. A system  approach was selected to address these challenges by empowering and connecting local communities.  TOC 373  C3 The Amphibian Communities of Fundeni Lake For instance, the strategy for Fundeni Lake proposes to initiate in the short-term bottom-up  initiatives, which will create a sense of community. In the midterm, a set of actions will contribute to  restore the natural environment and will set the ground to develop more proactive activities. In the  long term the goal is to sustain a balanced relation between nature and the surrounding community.   FIGURE APP.O.3  The project ' The Amphibian Communities of Fundeni Lake', team C3. The jury’s feedback: – The project presents a very holistic approach grounded in the local actors and the diverse community  around the Fundeni lake – It is a very good idea to initiate a lake committee to develop a local governance scheme – Actors and processes have been identified and included in a process-oriented design idea – It remains open what circular economy can mean and the project lacks some spatial definition, due to  its character TOC 374 Integrated Urban River Corridors C4 The Hinge, Lake Pantelimon Authors : Anita Stamatoiu, Giuliana Gritti, Silvia Cazacu, Christian Patriciu Popescu FIGURE APP.O.4  The project ' The Hinge', Lake Pantelimon, team C4. The area around the Pantelimon Lake comprises a multitude of built environments, road types, green/ open areas and water typologies, highly heterogeneous and weakly connected. The lack of planning in  the past decades translates into uncontrolled sprawl that fails to integrate with both the urban setting  and the green/blue landscape situation. Incoherent infrastructure development or the very lack of it  resulted in a non-hierarchical spatial organization, as well as difficulty in accessing the waterfront. The  extra spatial capacity of empty/abandoned land is not used to its potential. Most of the unused areas  are in connection to the water, highlighting the absence of a true vision for the river. Based on the diversity identified, the project envisions extracting a vocation for each area based on its  topography, urban/architectural and ecological characteristics. This not only brings clarity in terms  of the different types of interventions suitable, but also creates the premises for prioritization of the  projects in different space-time scenarios. The starting point is the dam at the center of the Dobroești Lake. This specific site works as an  articulation between a wetland-like river environment in the West and a clear lake in the East, as well  as between a dense urban area in the South and an almost rural settlement in the North. This point  TOC 375  D1 Reinvent by Design, Lake Morii is therefore also a dam and a bridge/gate into the city connecting to an important urban junction  where various mobility modes and activities are available. The project takes advantage of the good  connectivity and density which create the premises for initial development and afterwards radiating  towards the other vocational areas. The Hinge is an articulation point emanating urban activity  emerged in a resilient river environment. The jury’s feedback: – The project is a kind of manifesto for the hinge, which could have been even more articulated – The presentation lost a time with the profound elaboration on the context – The project presented a very good analysis and the use of scenarios is constructive – However, the Pantelimon lakes have a huge potential for the development of green infrastructure and  open spaces, probably in combination with urban pastures. This potential has not been articulated in  the project. D1 Reinvent by Design, Lake Morii Authors : Monika Novkovikj, Ruxandra Grigoraș, Cezar Conțiu, Magda Baidan FIGURE APP.O.5  The project 'Reinvent by Design', Lake Morii, team D1. TOC 376 Integrated Urban River Corridors Lake Morii is a space which is highly disconnected from the surrounding Bucharest area. It is inevitable  for the lake to coexist with its environment at various scales and begin to matter in the general  perception of the people of Bucharest. We propose an integrated approach based on two notions:  1)  The necessity to connect vertically, horizontally and through several scales, with the water body and its  surroundings and 2) The area’s important ecological and green potential enhanced by a healthy and  extensive ecosystem, as much as the urban context allows.  Our proposal includes three sites: 1) a wetland/natural dendrology reserve with accompanying  amenities, 2) a locally important park with sufficient greenery and activities-generating potential,  3) a non-motorized spatial mobility solution accompanied by social/leisure facilities. This circular  solution should improve both the ecological and social features of the chosen sites with regards to  the lake and integrate Morii with the city on a micro-/meso- scale. The design concept, constituted  of three parts, could represent an initiating strategy/model to be later applied to other problem  areas of the Dâmbovița river corridor, as well as other locations facing similar issues. The proposal  envisions a tentacular development process which would grow through scales in time and catalyse the  reactivation of the lake and its surrounding. As it provides socially attractive entry points towards the  main focus area (A), this design solution is particularly replicable and it is in-tended to become not  only an ecological site but also a mentality-changing ‘gateway’ towards a more integrated urban space  and perception, hence its social and educational functions. The jury’s feedback: – The team used the suggested method in a coherent was and worked at both the micro and the macro  scale. – The design visualizations are inviting and vivid, the make sure that the ‘social entry points’ to this lake  need to be defined – However, Lake Morii was in itself a very strong urban statement, which certainly requires a strong  answer. A response to the urban articulation of the urban-water interface, which is still lacking, has  not been given, which was a missed opportunity, still, the project provides beautiful details. D2 Dâmbovița From Barrier to Link, Mihai Vodă- Izvor site Authors: Maricruz Gazel, Cristina Ștefan, Marcela Doina Dumitrescu, Alexandru Mexi High disregard for the river and an unbalanced use of space is the result of lack of institutional  cooperation and integrated public policies. Dâmbovița River should become an attractive element to  diversify and connect activities through the corridor and surrounding areas. The goal of this strategy is  to increase awareness and promote a new collective image for the river as an integrated and attractive  part of the city. It will be achieved by developing multiple activating connections across the river on a  horizontal level and enhance coherence at a longitudinal level. In order to achieve the design objective  a multi-phase process was developed. The focus of each intervention will be a platform, followed  by informal connections between platforms and subsequently the two banks. A total of 5 potential  intervention areas were identified in the segment between the Botanical Garden and Izvor Park. The  main criteria for selecting the sites was their particular character and potential. Several platform types  can be used and placed in the middle of the river or adjacent to the banks and connected through  informal footbridges. The platform works as a stich. The detailed intervention connects the Botanical  Gardens with the campus in several steps. The first phase of the project brings the students to the  river and over it by inserting a main vegetation stich to the garden and a smaller one on the campus  TOC 377  D2 Dâmbovița From Barrier to Link, Mihai Vodă- Izvor site bank. It will be complemented with measures to change mobility behavior. The second phase implies  extending the stiches and diverting the traffic one shore by improving the connection between the  campus and the river and extending the area influenced by the connections. The process can be  recreated in all selected areas with an experimental component and flexibility towards changes in  location and activities. FIGURE APP.O.6  The project 'Dâmbovița From Barrier to Link', Mihai Vodă- Izvor site, team D2. The jury’s feedback: – The project makes good use of the local potential and tries to find a coherent strategy, moving the river  to a central position. The concept is definitively scalable, and the urban context of this project was very  difficult and complex. – However, the project lacks answers to the systemic problems of this area. For example, some  suggestion on how the traffic pressure could be minimized in the future could have been given (such  as public transport strategies, cycling routes). TOC 378 Integrated Urban River Corridors D3 Closing the Gap, The National Library site Authors : Zhouyiqi Chen, Cristina-Mihaela Iordache, Alexandra Mirona Man, Lucian-Ștefan Călugărescu FIGURE APP.O.7  The project 'Closing the Gap', The National Library site, team D3. The assigned site is located in one of the most central areas of Bucharest, next to an important  transport hub and also on the central axis of the new civic center developed in the Socialist Era. The  site has a big potential as it is surrounded by a number of important public functions, among them the  most iconic being the National Library, The Comic Opera, Unirii Shopping Center and the Court House.  All these factors result in an area that is an essential place for social and cultural activities, as well as for the mobility system. However, the place is not used at its full potential because of social and  ecological disconnections. Poor quality of open space, lack of accessibility and mismatched human  scale end up with disconnections on social aspect. Most of the green areas are not continuously  linked and the considerable gap between the river and the green space accentuates the ecological  dysfunction. Our design objective is to transform the river corridor of Dâmbovița in an attractive, livable, sustainable  environment in the center of the city. The unused space around the library will be transformed into an  attractive area that will create a link between the historical monastery and the potential park, which  could develop on the unfinished construction site. TOC 379  D4 Linking Park, Lake Văcărești The jury’s feedback: – The team articulated the idea of an urban utopia which is certainly a good tool for presenting  alternative futures – How does the tube idea link to the overall project concept? – It was also not clear how the funnel would work – No reflection of the inherent systemic problems of the area caused by a poorly organized traffic system D4 Linking Park, Lake Văcărești Authors: Cristina Wong, Daniele Caruso, Irina Mateescu, Bianca-Mellita Tămășan FIGURE APP.O.8  The project 'Linking Park', Lake Văcărești, team D4. Our project focuses in a green buffer created between Lake Văcărești and the city. The proposal  consists on taking advantage of the existing public spaces, residual areas and green zones of the city,  considered ‘patches’, distributed along the city. These green patches will work as an extension of the  ecological reserve, which will run throughout the city as green corridors connecting the lake with the  city centre, Park Tineretului, Park Titan, and south Bucharest. Physical barriers encountered in the site  will be removed in order to make a smooth transition among the existing city and the river. TOC 380 Integrated Urban River Corridors The jury’s feedback: – Very good use of the sponge idea and transformation of the analysis result into the idea of a buffer  zone around the nature protection zone – However, it remained unclear how this zone would be maintained, this could be for example a form of  urban agriculture or urban pasture – The project developed very beautiful visualisations which are definitively a good approach towards  communicating the value of the periphery to the general public. – It remained open what would be the connection of the community to the sponge area TOC 381  The jury’s evaluation sheet for the final presentation Appendix P  The jury’s evaluation sheet for  the final presentation Evaluation Sheet Final Presentation, 10th of March 2017 Name of evaluator:        Group number: CRITERIA COMMENTS RANKING 1 (lowest) -  5 (highest) Communication (Presentation, Time Manage- ment, Visual Quality, Speech) Methodical Coherence (Consistence of structure and  argumentation, logic, iden- tifiable methods, innovative  approach?) Social-ecological integration Scalability (The strategic relevance of the  proposal on the scale of the corridor) Level of completion of the Task Further Observations TOC 382 Integrated Urban River Corridors TOC Contents List of Tables List of Figures List of abbreviations Summary Samenvatting Rezumat 1 Introduction § 1.1 Background § 1.2 Problem statement § 1.2.1 The river as a barrier § 1.2.2 Latent flood risk § 1.2.3 Lack of ecosystem services § 1.2.4 Reduction of scalar complexity § 1.3 Theoretical framework § 1.3.1 Social-ecological resilience § 1.3.2 Urban form resilience § 1.3.3 Spatial morphology and landscape ecology § 1.3.4 Conceptual framework § 1.4 Research questions and objectives § 1.5 Approach § 1.5.1 Design study § 1.5.2 Transdisciplinarity § 1.6 Methodology § 1.6.1 Research design § 1.7 Relevance § 1.7.1 Societal relevance § 1.7.2 Scientific relevance § 1.8 Thesis outline PART 1 Context 2 Towards a Spatial-Morphological Definition of Integrated Urban River Corridors—A Transdisciplinary Literature Review § 2.1 Introduction § 2.2 Urban River Corridors—A Literature Review § 2.2.1 Urban rivers at the interface between city and nature § 2.2.2 The environmental-ecological dimension § 2.2.3 The social-economic dimension § 2.2.4 The planning-governance dimension § 2.2.5 The spatial-morphological dimension § 2.2.6 Key properties of URCs—a synthesis § 2.3 Spatial definition § 2.4 Conclusion 3 Social-Ecological Dynamics in Bucharest’s River Corridors—A Diachronic Perspective § 3.1 Introduction § 3.2 Geographic context: hydrography and fluvial geomorphology § 3.3 A synoptic history of Bucharest’s river corridors § 3.3.1 Dâmbovița—from a dynamic valley to a canal § 3.3.2 Colentina—from a pestilential river to a pearl of lakes § 3.3.3 The two rivers under Communism—continuity and disruption § 3.3.4 Human-induced changes in the river system § 3.4 Discussion 4 The State of Knowledge on the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest § 4.1 Introduction § 4.2 The urban river corridors of Bucharest under post-communist transition § 4.3 Methods § 4.3.1 Data collection § 4.3.2 Data analysis § 4.4 Results § 4.4.1 Bucharest § 4.4.2 Dâmbovița § 4.4.3 Colentina § 4.5 Discussion § 4.6 Assignment PART 2 Assessment 5 A Framework for the Assessment of Social-Ecological Integration in Urban River Corridors § 5.1 Introduction § 5.2 Challenges and opportunities for assessment § 5.2.1 Assessment in planning for sustainability § 5.2.2 From properties to indicators of URCs § 5.3 Spatial metrics of urban rivers in current approaches § 5.4 Assessment framework § 5.4.1 Indicators of connectivity § 5.4.2 Indicators of spatial capacity § 5.4.3 Scalar framework § 5.4.4 Social-ecological integration assessment § 5.5 Discussion § 5.6 Conclusion 6 Assessing the Urban River Corridors of Bucharest § 6.1 Introduction § 6.2 Assessment methodology § 6.2.1 Study area and assessment units § 6.2.2 Selection of indicators § 6.2.3 Data and implementation § 6.3 Corridor segment analysis § 6.3.1 Connectivity § 6.3.2 Spatial capacity § 6.3.3 Social-ecological integration § 6.4 URC Colentina—wider application § 6.5 Discussion § 6.6 Conclusion PART 3 Design 7 Design Principles for Integrated Urban River Corridors § 7.1 Introduction § 7.2 Social-ecological urban design § 7.3 Principles of urban river corridor design § 7.3.1 Configuring connections § 7.3.2 Intensifying open spaces § 7.3.3 Growing synergies § 7.3.4 Bridging scales § 7.4 Discussion § 7.5 Conclusion 8 Applying the Principles through Design Instruments § 8.1 Introduction § 8.2 Design instruments § 8.2.1 Revealing the elements of the URC § 8.2.2 Relating the elements of the URC § 8.3 Workshop methodology § 8.3.1 Selection of participants § 8.3.2 Workshop set-up § 8.3.3 Data collection § 8.3.4 Data analysis and interpretation § 8.4 Results § 8.4.1 The instruments in the design process § 8.4.2 The design projects § 8.5 Discussion § 8.5.1 The use of the instruments § 8.5.2 Methodological challenges § 8.6 Conclusions 9 Conclusions and Discussion § 9.1 Conclusions § 9.1.1 Understanding Urban River Corridors § 9.1.2 Assessing Urban River Corridors § 9.1.3 Designing Urban River Corridors § 9.1.4 Contribution § 9.2 Discussion § 9.2.1 Reflections on the impact of social-ecologically integrated URCs on general urban resilience § 9.2.2 Challenges and opportunities of a transdisciplinary design study § 9.3 Practical applications and implications § 9.3.1 Possible usage scenarios § 9.3.2 The implications of social-ecologically integrated URCs to urban development § 9.4 Limitations and recommendations for future research References Biography List of publications Appendices Appendix A Interview schedule Appendix B List of interviewed experts Appendix C Example of a transcribed, translated and coded expert interview Appendix D Summary of the QDA of the expert interviews Appendix E Indicators selected for the assessment of Bucharest's URCs Appendix F Application procedure published on the workshop website Appendix G List of selected participants Appendix H Workshop calendar Appendix I Example of a workshop handout: Day 1 Appendix J Example of base maps: site D3 Appendix K Example of a daily evaluation form: Day 1 Appendix L Example of a summary of daily evaluation results Appendix M Post-workshop evaluation form Appendix N Summary of the interviews with the workshop participants Appendix O The design projects developed in the workshop Appendix P The jury’s evaluation sheet for the final presentation Lege pagina 
work_w7bsiz2vzffkfan7hugr6efvli	----	SIR THOMAS MORE AND THE ART OF DIALOGUE by ROMUALD IAN LAKOWSKI A THESIS SUBMITTED IN PARTIAL FULFILMENT OF THE REQUIREMENTS FOR THE DEGREE OF DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY in THE FACULTY OF GRADUATE STUDIES Department of English We accept this thesis as conforming to the required standard THE UNIVERSITY OF BRITISH COLUMBIA September 993 Romuald Ian Lakowski, 1993 In presenting this thesis in partial fulfilment of the requirements for an advanced degree at The University of British Columbia, I agree that the Library shall make it freely available for reference and study. I further agree that permission for extensive copying of this thesis for scholarly purposes may be granted by the Head of my Department or by his or her representatives. It is understood that copying or publication of this thesis for financial gain shall not be allowed without my written permission. English The University of British Columbia 2075 Wesbrook Place Vancouver, Canada V6T 1W5 Date: September 1993 ABSTRACT In this study I present an analysis of the structures of four works by Sir Thomas More: The History of Richard III, the 'Dialogue of Counsel' in Book I of Utopia, The Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and The Dialogue of Comfort in Tribulation. My basic thesis is that Thomas More was a superb literary artist and a master of the art of literary dialogue, and that beneath the often apparently rambling and digressive surface of each of these literary works, there is a 'deep structure' that is highly coherent and even tightly organised. I also show that More's use of dialogue in each of the three dialogues is genuinely dialectical—that the individual speakers in the three literary dialogues make a genuine contribution to the development of the argument—and that the movement from speaker to speaker in the History of Richard III is also genuinely dialectical— anticipating the art of the three later dialogues. To this end I have provided an interpretive reading/analysis of each of the works, focussing on More's "art of dialogue" in the passages of direct and indirect speech in Richard III, and in the dialogues between Hythloday and Persona More in Book I of Utopia, between Chancellor More and the Messenger in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and between Vincent and Anthony in the Dialogue of Comfort. The thesis also includes a major bibliographical appendix, consisting of about two thousand items of More scholarship organised according to topic. (The Bibliography is quite comprehensive covering all of More's works and also background studies and biographies.) The appendix is provided both as part of my argument and as a tool for further research. ii TABLE OF CONTENTS Abstract ^ Introduction ^ 1 1. A Man for All Seasons ^ 5 1.1. The Art of Dialogue ^ 5 1.2. Editions: Renaissance and Modern ^ 10 1.3. Prospectus of the Work^ 15 1.4. A Part of His Own^ 18 1.5. All the World's a Stage ^ 21 2. The History of Richard III ^ 30 2.1. The Argument of this Chapter ^ 30 2.2. Textual History and Authorship ^ 31 2.3. Genre, Audience, Historical Background and Structure ^ 38 2.4. Analysis of the Text ^ 44 2.4.1. Introduction and Death of Edward IV (App. A.1, Sec. I) ^ 44 2.4.2. The Deposition of Edward V and Flight of the Queen to Sanctuary (Sec. II) ^ 45 2.4.3. The Meeting of the Lords in Council (Sec. III) ^ 47 2.4.4. The Debate on Sanctuary Between the Queen and the Cardinal (Sec. IV) ^ 49 2.4.5. The Execution of Hastings (Secs. V and VI) ^ 52 2.4.6. Doctor Shaa's Sermon and Buckingham's Guildhall Speech (Sec. VII) ^ 59 2.4.7. Richard's Coronation (Sec. VIII) ^ 62 2.4.8. The Continuation of the English Version (Sec. IX) ^ 64 2.5. Conclusion ^ 68 3. The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia^ 77 3.1. The Argument of This Chapter ^ 77 3.2. The Textual History of Utopia ^ 79 3.3. Genre and Structure ^ 81 3.4. The Prefatory Letters ^ 84 3.5. The Structure of Book I ^ 89 3.6. Analysis of the Text ^ 91 3.6.1. The Introduction to Book I ^ 91 3.6.2. The Beginning of The 'Dialogue of Counsel' ^ 95 3.6.3. The Cardinal Morton Episode^ 97 3.6.4. The 'Dialogue of Counsel' Proper ^ 102 3.6.5. The 'Sermon on Pride' and the Conclusion to Book II ^ 109 3.7. Conclusion ^ 114 4. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II ^ 125 4.1. The Argument of This Chapter ^ 125 4.2. Textual History and Background ^ 128 4.3. Analysis of Text ^ 131 iii 4.3.1. Introduction to The Dialogue Concerning Heresies (20/1-37/22) ^ 131 4.3.2. Definitions of Heresy and Orthodoxy and The Image of Love (I: 2) ^ 145 4.3.3. On Saints, Images, Miracles and Pilgrimages (I: 3-17) (A 1) ^ 149 4.3.4. On Scripture and the Oral Tradition of the Church (I:18-31) (A 2 ) ... 155 4.3.5. On the True Church of Christ (II: 1-7) (A 2 ) ^ 161 4.3.6. More on Images, Relics, Saints and Pilgrimages (II: 8-12) (A 1 ) 163 4.4. Conclusion ^ 168 5. Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV^ 175 5.1. Introduction ^ 175 5.2. Book III:1 As Epilogue to Heresies A 2 ^ 177 5.3. Analysis of Heresies B ^ 182 5.3.1. Tyndale's Translation of the New Testament (III: 8-15) (B.2) ^ 183 5.3.2. Approval for a Vernacular Translation (III: 16) (B.2 cont.) ^ 186 5.3.3. The Beginning of Book IV ^ 191 5.3.4. The Examination of a Lutheran Preacher (IV: 10-12) (B.3b) ^ 196 5.3.5. Faith, Works, and Predestination (IV: 11b-12) (B.3b cont) ^ 202 5.4. The Conclusion to The Dialogue Concerning Heresies ^ 208 5.5. Conclusion ^ 211 6. A Dialogue of Comfort ^ 217 6.1. The Argument of This Chapter ^ 217 6.2. Textual History ^ 219 6.3. Genre, Audience, Background, and Structure ^ 222 6.4. The Function of Psalm 90 ^ 228 6.5. Analysis of the Text ^ 233 6.5.1. Introduction to Book I (I:Preface) ^ 233 6.5.2. Comfort in Tribulation (I:14:12) ^ 234 6.5.3. On the Necessity of Tribulation (I:13-I:20) ^ 236 6.5.4. The Beginning of Book II (II:Preface-II:9) ^ 239 6.5.5. Psalm 90 and the First Temptation (II:10-II:16) ^ 242 6.5.6. The Second and Third Temptations of Psalm 90 (II:16-II:17) ^ 245 6.5.7. The Beginning of Book III (III:Preface-III:1) ^ 246 6.5.8. The Fourth Temptation (III:2-111:4) ^ 247 6.5.9. The Loss of Outward Things (III:5-111:16) ^ 249 6.5.10. Bodily Pain, Captivity and Imprisonment (III:17-11I:22) ^ 251 6.5.11. Persecution and Martyrdom (III:23-111:27) ^ 255 6.6. Conclusion ^ 259 Conclusion ^ 268 Appendix: Thomas More Bibliography ^ 274 iv LIST OF FIGURES Figure 2.1. Textual Stemma of English Version of Richard III ^ 34 Figure 2.2. Textual Stemma of Latin Version of Richard III ^ 37 Figure 2.3. The Structure of Richard III^ 44 Figure 3.1. The Structure of Utopia ^ 83 Figure 3.2. The Parerga to the Utopia ^ 86 Figure 3.3. The Episodic Structure of Book I of More's Utopia^ 90 Figure 4.1. The Structure of Books III and IV of Heresies ^ 140 Figure 4.2. The Structure of Books I and II of Heresies ^ 142 Figure 6.1. Dialogue of Comfort: Revised Textual Stemma I^ 221 Figure 6.2. Comfort A: The Book of Comfort^ 225 Figure 6.3. Comfort B: The Meditation on Psalm 90 (91): 5-6 ^ 226 INTRODUCTION Despite the monumental labours of the editors of the Yale Edition of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, 1 very little work has yet been done on analysing the structure of Thomas More's major writings. The study I present here is a contribution towards rectifying this unjust neglect. Though much has been written about St. Thomas More, an analysis of the secondary bibliography in the Bibliographical Appendix indicates clearly that the only work of More's that has been extensively analysed is his Utopia, and that even here almost all the articles on Utopia focus exclusively on the famous account of the imaginary island of Utopia in Book II. While much has been written on More's life and famous martyrdom, very little scholarly attention has yet been paid to analysing any of his literary works, apart from Utopia. At least part of the reason for this past neglect is the lack of good modern critical editions of More's works. This situation has been largely rectified by the now almost complete critical edition of More's works being published by Yale University Press. Despite the very extensive textual apparatus to the editions of the various works supplied by the Yale editors, there is little in the way of actual "explication de texte" provided in the editorial apparatus. The time is now ripe for a new generation of textual scholars, building on the achievements of the Yale edition, to provide such an in depth analysis. For all the scholarly work that has been done on More in recent years, St. Thomas More in many ways still remains an extremely enigmatic and elusive author for most of his modern readers. It is this enigma that I wish to address in this study. I think that this elusiveness is hardly an accident. For the 'Man For All Seasons' was also a man of many masks and many voices with an uncanny ability at improvising and acting out a large number of different roles in the course of his long and varied life. In this study, I will be analysing four of Thomas More's most, important literary works, his History of Richard III, 1 / 2 Book I of his Utopia, and the two English dialogues: the Dialogue Concerning Heresies and the Dialogue of Comfort in Tribulation. In the case of More's "semi-dialogue" the Utopia, I have deliberately omitted all discussion of Book II, mainly because the dialogue in Utopia occurs only in Book I. In the case of Richard III, I have concentrated on the passages of direct and indirect discourse in the History, trying to show in my analysis the dialectical movement from speaker to speaker in the text, or what Clarence Miller calls "the ironical cross-lights of Richard III," 2 which he compares to the give-and-take of the formal dialogues. In the case of the two major English dialogues, where the dialogue is sustained throughout the works—in one case over three hundred pages, and in the other over four hundred pages, I have provided in each case a basic analysis of the whole work in question. With the dialogues under consideration here, I think it is fair to say that the "art of dialogue" in England reached a height that it had never reached before and has never attained since. Each of the four works under consideration is in its own way unique. My study consists of a basic structural analysis of the four works under consideration, together with an opening chapter, which is designed to frame my discussion of these works in a manner which I hope is in some small way analogous to the parerga or introductory frames of the works themselves. In an appendix, I have also added a major bibliography of More scholarship, containing about two thousand items, organised according to topics, e.g., studies of individual works, biographical topics, etc. The basic thesis of this study is that Thomas More was a superb literary artist and a master of the art of literary dialogue, and that beneath the often seemingly rambling, digressive, and apparently incoherent and chaotic surface of each of the four literary works under consideration in this study, there is a 'deep structure' that is highly coherent and even tightly organised. The purpose of this study is to describe and show empirically this deep / 3 structure, both on a macroscopic level (the 'top-down' approach) in the body of the thesis, and on the level of microstructure (the 'bottom-up' approach) in the tables and figures provided for each of the four works under discussion. The one hundred and fifty page bibliography in the Bibliographical Appendix is provided as a tool for scholars, but it too is a part of my argument. Even a casual perusal of the contents of the bibliography indicates just how onesided past More scholarship has been—the two main foci of that scholarship being Utopia and More's biography and martyrdom—and how little criticism there is even today on any of More's other works apart from Utopia (and even for Book I of that work). Thomas More was an extremely sophisticated writer—nowhere is this more evident than in his History of Richard III and in the three literary dialogues: Utopia, Book I, the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and the Dialogue of Comfort. Contrary to the view of many critics that these works are rambling and incoherent, and lacking in structure, and that the use of the dialogue form contributes nothing to the argument, I show in this study that these works do have a clear and coherent, albeit rather convoluted structure to them, and that More's use of dialogue is genuinely dialectical—that the individual speakers in the three literary dialogues make a genuine contribution to the development of the argument, and that the movement from speaker to speaker in the History of Richard III is also genuinely dialectical—anticipating the art of these three later literary dialogues. To this end I have provided an interpretive reading/analysis of each of the works, focussing on More's "art of dialogue," detailing all the major twists and turns in the arguments or discussions between the speakers. Given the great sophistication of these works, I would argue very strongly, at the risk of sounding boring and uncontroversial about an author who has been surrounded by controversy in recent years, for the need for a "What Happens in Hamlet" kind of analysis of More's texts. Though the Yale editions of the English version of History of Richard III / 4 (1963) and Utopia (1965) were published over twenty-five years ago, the other editions—the Dialogue of Comfort (1976), the Dialogue Concerning Heresies (1981), and the Latin version of the Historia Ricardi Tertii (1986)—were published much more recently and have not yet attracted much critical attention. No comprehensive study of More's dialogues has even been published—I think the time is ripe now for such a study. NOTES 1. The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More (New Haven: Yale UP, 1963-). Cited herafter as CW. 2. CW 14, 769. 1. A MAN FOR ALL SEASONS 1.1. THE ART OF DIALOGUE Central to the rhetorical culture of Renaissance humanism is what might best be called "the art of dialogue." The post-classical use of the dialogue form has not yet been studied in any detail. This is surprising given the great popularity of this literary form, both in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. There is a continuous tradition of the use of the dialogue as a literary form from the time of Plato onwards right down to the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries and beyond. The dialogue form enjoyed a further increase in popularity in the Renaissance period. Among the earlier practitioners of the art of dialogue, one finds not only Plato, but also Lucian, Cicero and Seneca; many of the Church Fathers, among them Justin Martyr, Jerome and Augustine; several mediaeval theologians including Gregory the Great, Anselm and Abelard; and several Renaissance humanists, including Petrarch, Valla, and Erasmus. Several of More's most important works are organized in the form of literary dialogues or include reported dialogues as part of the text. The form of Book I of Utopia (1516-1518) is clearly that of a literary dialogue. 1 Besides the Utopia, the most important uses of the dialogue structure by More are in his two major English dialogues, the Dialogue Concerning Heresies (1529, 2nd ed. 1531), and the Dialogue of Comfort in Tribulation (written in 1534). Several of More's other works also make extensive use of indirect discourse and of dramatic monologue. The History of Richard III (1513-1518)— both Latin and English versions—includes several orations and reported dialogues, and one long debate. In De Tristitia, More makes extensive use of dramatic monologue in the scenes in which Christ, in the Garden of Gethsemane, addresses the sleeping apostles. One of More's prison letters, "The Letter of Margaret Roper to Alice Alington," 2 is also arranged in the form of a literary dialogue between More and his daughter Margaret Roper. And the list goes on. 3 5 A Man for All Seasons / 6 One of the major difficulties in approaching More's dialogues is that the definitive history of the literary dialogue has yet to be written. Until more work has been done on charting the development and evolution of the dialogue as a literary form, we are on very uncertain grounds as modern readers in determining the conventions of this genre. In particular, because of the almost complete lack of any general studies on the post-classical dialogue as a literary form, 4 it is necessary to proceed inductively. Only when most of the major practitioners of the art of dialogue in the Renaissance period have been carefully examined will it be possible to make any kind of reliable generalizations about the dialogue form as a Renaissance genre. 5 Nor is it sufficient to examine isolated works by individual authors. Each of the dialogues that More wrote is very different in structure and tone from the others. 6 Indeed, More seems to have been one of those authors who never did the same thing twice. There is a far greater degree of commonality among the dialogues of Erasmus, whether it be the Anti-Barbari, the Colloquies or the Ciceronianus. More's use of dialogue is in any case quite different from Erasmus's. And both in turn are very different from such other great practitioners of the 'art of dialogue' as Jean Bodin or Galileo Galilei, whose Dialogue Concerning Two New Sciences is one of the best examples of this genre in the Renaissance period. The situation is further complicated by the unfamiliarity of most modern readers with the literary and rhetorical conventions underlying Renaissance prose writing. It is not surprising, then, to find that More's works like those of the other major prose writers of the period, have been relatively neglected by comparison with the works of most of the important Renaissance poets and dramatists. Indeed, in sharp contrast with much of the best poetry and drama of the period, Renaissance prose works with rare exceptions have remained the preserve of a very small group of literary and historical specialists. The Renaissance period, despite all appearances to the contrary, is undoubtedly one of A Man for All Seasons / 7 the most neglected periods in Western intellectual history. We have in many ways a much clearer understanding of the works of the mediaeval scholastic philosophers than we do of the Renaissance humanists. Until very recently what few humanistic texts, such as More's Utopia or Erasmus's Praise of Folly or Machiavelli's The Prince, were still being read, were almost always interpreted totally outside their historical contexts. Many of the literary forms or genres employed by Renaissance writers, such as the writing of literary dialogues, are no longer a part of our modern literary culture. Literary critics today often make the mistake of imposing peculiarly modern conceptions of genre on mediaeval and Renaissance texts. The cardinal sin here is anachronism; for example, we see the attempt often made to interpret Renaissance dialogue in general in terms of the later traditions of the bourgeois novel, or, in particular, that of trying to read More's Utopia from the perspective of nineteenth- and twentieth-century socialist and Marxist utopias. Renaissance dialogue is quite clearly neither drama nor novel, and especially not the latter. In the case of More's Utopia, though it gave its name to a genre, it is at best only a very remote antecedent of modern utopian fiction. It is absurd, for example, to call Utopia a novel, since the genre we know as the bourgeois novel only came into existence in the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, though it had obvious precedents in the mediaeval and Renaissance romance and the classical epic. Clearly, Utopia owes more than a little to the mediaeval and Renaissance traveller's tales that were so popular in the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries. Just as clearly it owes as much to the whole tradition of the literary dialogue and the genre of classical works of political and moral philosophy "De Optimo Statu Reipublicae" ("On the Best State of a Commonwealth"), but whatever it is, it is clearly not a novel. Utopia is not the only work of More's to be badly served by modern schemes of generic classification. In much the same way. all too often More's History of Richard III is dismissed A Man for All Seasons / 8 out of hand as an example of historical writing just because it does not fit within the framework of modern so-called scientific canons of historicity. This somewhat begs the question since "scientific" historiography did not come into existence before the nineteenth century. The crucial question here is what More's humanist contemporaries expected from historical writing and whether the History of Richard III falls within the broad range of Renaissance historiography. Some modern critics, no doubt influenced by Shakespeare's Tragedy of King Richard III, have persisted in seeing More's work as a "satirical drama" 7 rather than a work of historiography. While More's History of Richard III makes extensive use of reported speeches and orations it is clearly not a drama in the conventional sense of the word or for that matter a formal literary dialogue. However, there are enough similarities in the use of dialogue between the History of Richard III and More's three great formal dialogues to justify including it in this study. Despite all pretences to the contrary most modern literary critics, especially the so-called literary theorists, show little sensitivity to the historical contexts of the literary texts that they study. There is no real recognition here of the passage of time. Literary genres seem to exist for them only in some kind of pseudo-Platonic realm of forms. There is no real acknowledgement of the possibility that literary genres and rhetorical conventions may have evolved and developed and changed over time. At most these critics may grudgingly recognise some kind of rupture or discontinuity with the past in that new genres have come into use that did not exist before. When confronted by the extraordinary wealth and variety of Renaissance literary genres, one is forced to recognise the very limited value of modern literary theoretical approaches for the understanding of this great mass of material. This is clearest in the case of Renaissance prose genres. What work has been done on Renaissance prose genres has been mainly on the seventeenth century when such modern prose genres as the essay were A Man for All Seasons / 9 beginning to evolve. When we go back to the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, we are on far less certain grounds. Among the most serious mistakes that modern critics and historians make is either to ignore the very serious discontinuities and cultural breaks between the Renaissance, especially the early Renaissance, and the modern period, and to pass off Renaissance humanists as modern authors, or else to ignore the whole passage of over a thousand years of mediaeval culture and civilization and to claim that the Renaissance was nothing more than a revival of classical culture pure and simple. Both approaches end up being extremely reductive. When it comes to the dialogue structure itself, the greatest danger facing modern readers in interpreting these texts, is that of making a naive comparison between More and Plato. To call More's dialogues Platonic is begging the question since Plato essentially created the genre and all subsequent literary dialogues almost inevitably end up being compared, usually to their disadvantage, with Plato's dialogues. Thomas More stands out as one of the most important practitioners of Platonic dialogue in the sixteenth century—not only in the Utopia but also in his two great English dialogues: the Dialogue Concerning Heresies and The Dialogue of Comfort in Tribulation. However, More's English dialogues owe at least as much to the whole tradition of patristic dialogue as they do to Plato. Most of the great Church Fathers of Christian antiquity from the time of Justin Martyr (-150 A.D.) onwards wrote dialogues, including St. Augustine, and the form was also adopted by many mediaeval philosophers including St. Anselm and Abelard. In particular, More's most important polemical work, the Dialogue Concerning Heresies seems to be modelled not only on Plato's major dialogues but also on the patristic and mediaeval tradition of Streitdialogen, or conflict-dialogues. 8 Given More's extensive reading of patristic texts, we can be fairly certain that he was A Man for All Seasons / 10 familiar with most of these exemplars. These patristic dialogues often seem to have had a decidedly polemical thrust to them, though it would be naive to underestimate the element of conflict in Platonic dialogues. Since More was clearly familiar with the works of most of these earlier practitioners of the 'art of dialogue', it would be a serious mistake to interpret More's major works solely within the context of the Platonic tradition. 1.2. EDITIONS: RENAISSANCE AND MODERN During Thomas More's long and extremely varied public career, he never ceased to find time to write. Even by sixteenth century standards he was extremely prolific (though not as prolific as Erasmus). This becomes all the more remarkable when we consider that More was a practising lawyer and politician who only wrote in his spare time (if one ignores the great mass of Chancery business with which he had to deal at court). For a man as busy as More was, the great variety and scope of his literary output is quite astounding. The sheer extent of More's literary corpus, especially of the English works, often seems quite daunting to modern scholars. Until quite recently, however, most of More's works were not readily available in modern critical editions. This extraordinary neglect has led to a serious underestimation of his importance as a literary writer. This situation has begun to change as a result of the publication of the various volumes of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More by Yale University Press. However, since most of the energy of the Yale editors has gone into textual editing and establishing the text, relatively little work has as yet been done on actual interpretation of the texts, especially of the polemical works which make up the bulk of the English folio edition of 1557. Only now are scholars beginning to acknowledge fully the importance of More's English prose. The 1557 edition of More's Englysh Workes, edited by William Rastell, 9 constitutes the first folio edition of any major English author, except Chaucer, preceding the folio of Ben A Man for All Seasons 1 11 Jonson's Works by almost sixty years, and the Hemynge and Condell folio edition of Shakespeare by sixty-six years. The sheer size of the folio edition (over fifteen hundred pages), and the early date of composition of the individual works (before 1535), alone should indicate their importance for the study of the development of English prose. (The only other comparable earlier English prose work is Caxton's Malory.) When one also takes into consideration More's Latin works, the Translations of Lucian, his Latin Epigrams, the Utopia (the first English translation of which was made by Ralph Robinson as late as 1551), the Latin version of the Historia Richardi Tertii, More's anti-Lutheran satire the Responsio ad Lutherum, the Latin letters (some of which were really essays or tracts for the times), and finally the De Tristitia Christi (his last work written in the Tower), then More emerges as an author of major importance. More's Latin Works were collected together and published in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries in Basle (1563), Louvain (1565), and Frankfurt (1689). 10 Indeed, More's international reputation in his own time was based on his Latin works (and not on his English ones), especially on the Utopia, but also his Latin poetry, his joint translations with Erasmus of Lucian, and some of his Latin letters (which were published or circulated in manuscript form in his own lifetime). More was unique among English writers in being equally eloquent in both Latin and English, his closest rivals being, perhaps, Sir Francis Bacon and John Milton. He was also the first major English author to be affected both by Renaissance Humanism and by the English Reformation, as an outstanding defender of the Catholic side. It is hardly necessary to pay tribute to the indefatigable industry of the Yale editors; their work is well enough known. One has only to examine the individual volumes to see what a superb job the Yale editors have done. Often, the scholarly apparatus equals in bulk or even exceeds the lengths of the texts themselves. And More's literary output could hardly be called slim to begin with. The many handsomely bound volumes (some in two or three A Man for All Seasons / 12 physical parts) are a monument to the endeavours of the Yale editors and of the publishing efforts of Yale University Press. However, one of the paradoxical effects of a major humanistic enterprise like the Yale edition is that it often leads to a profound re-evaluation and sometimes radical revision of the very scholarly judgements and opinions expressed by the editors themselves. This is certainly true of the Yale edition which has already led to a profound revaluation, a revaluation that is still very much in progress, of More's status in literary and intellectual history. Reading through the scholarly apparatus of the various volumes of The Complete Works, one cannot help but feel, that, for all their immense erudition, the Yale editors were only laying a foundation—a very important foundation, one must admit—for future research. The monumental labours of the Yale editors have raised at least as many new questions about More—both the man and his works—as they have provided answers. No one has yet done justice to the complexity and richness, and profundity of More's thought. Work on the Yale edition of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More began just over thirty-five years ago in the late 1950s, 11 though the first volumes to be published, the editions of Richard III and Utopia, did not appear until 1963 and 1965 respectively. Both editions represented the very best in contemporary humanistic scholarship and received the highest praise in reviews published in many academic journals at the time. 12 And yet such are the vicissitudes of literary scholarship that many an edition is rendered obsolete almost as soon as it is published. I think it is fair to say that after the passage of just over twenty-five years, both editions would have to be very substantially revised, if not completely reedited, if they were to be republished today. The case of Richard III is especially clear. The editors of the Yale edition have been fortunate over the last twenty to thirty years to have made some extraordinary manuscript discoveries and to have uncovered some A Man for All Seasons / 13 previously unknown copies of early printed editions of More's works. Undoubtedly, the most exciting of these finds was the discovery in 1963 in Spain of the autograph manuscript of De Tristitia, More's last major work, written while he was in the Tower of London. It was found in the cathedral of Valencia, where, completely unknown to English scholars, it had been venerated for centuries as a relic of the Catholic martyr. (It was later edited by Clarence Miller and appeared as Volume 14 of the Yale edition). However, another discovery almost as important was that made by Daniel Kinney of a manuscript in Paris containing a copy of the Latin version of Richard III, which, while not the autograph, was clearly superior to any of the previously known Latin texts that had provided the basis of Sylvester's edition in Volume 2 of the Yale edition in 1963. Faced with this unexpected discovery, the Yale editors could perhaps have chosen to reedit Volume 2. However, there was no good reason to revise the edition of the English version (the Latin and the English versions appear on facing pages in Volume 2). Most scholarly readers would still agree with Sylvester's original decision to use the 1557 text in the folio edition of More's English Works as his base text, rather than the earlier but obviously corrupt texts incorporated into the Chronicles of Grafton and Hall. The Yale editors made what was perhaps the wisest choice by including a new edition of the Latin version (together with Daniel Kinney's excellent English translation) in Volume 15 of The Complete Works in 1986. Kinney also used this opportunity to add additional notes to reflect scholarly developments since 1963. It does mean, however, that any serious student of More's Richard III will have to balance and juggle the two volumes in his hands if he wants to compare the Latin and English versions. Although the English version is the one known to tradition and provides the basis for Shakespeare's Richard III, no serious More scholar can afford to ignore the Latin version any longer, especially in light of Kinney's work. While there have been no such dramatic finds in the case of Utopia, the publication of A Man for All Seasons / 14 the Yale edition has had the effect of stimulating quite intense critical debates about the nature of the text. Prior to the publication of the Yale edition of Utopia some English professors did not even realise that the work was written originally in Latin, and made the mistake of taking Ralph Robinson's 1551 English translation for the original. Few scholars would still make that mistake today. Several studies have appeared in recent years that analyse in depth the literary and rhetorical features of the text. As a result, we now have a much better appreciation of the complex ironies and ambiguities underlying the surface of the work. Unfortunately, the text has become more elusive and harder to pin down than ever. We also have a much better understanding of the political and social conditions of the early sixteenth century. It is much harder now to justify the totally anachronistic misreadings of Utopia as a precursor of either enlightenment liberalism 13 or of modern-day socialist and communist political philosophies. 14 Given the extensive revaluation of the early sixteenth century historical background of Utopia in recent years, Hexter's introduction almost certainly would have to be rewritten. (His co-editor Surtz's contribution has better stood the test of time). So much has been published since the Utopia volume came out that it would require an additional supplementary volume to bring the commentary up to date. In addition, many modern translations of Utopia have also appeared in recent years, including some superior to the one incorporated into the Yale edition. The two English dialogues, the Dialogue Concerning Heresies and the Dialogue of Comfort in Tribulation stand out among More's later works for their literary sophistication and technique. More was criticised even by some of his contemporaries for the sheer extent of his English writings, and some of the later English works show signs of carelessness and hurried composition, but the two English dialogues at least are very carefully crafted works and call for close reading and rereading. The first modern critical edition, based on the early A Man for All Seasons / 15 printed editions, of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies was published in 1981. And the first modern critical edition of The Dialogue Concerning Comfort in Tribulation, was published in 1976. It made use not only of the early printed editions but also of two sixteenth century manuscripts, one of which, the "Corpus Christi Manuscript," provided the base text for the Yale edition. Since the publication of the Yale Edition two more manuscripts have been found, though, unlike the "Paris Manuscript" of the Latin version of Richard III, the differences are not substantive enough to necessitate re-editing the text. Neither of More's two English dialogues has yet attracted much serious critical attention. 1.3. PROSPECTUS OF THE WORK For my study of Richard III, Richard S. Sylvester's edition of the English version in CW 2 and Daniel Kinney's critical edition of the Latin version (together with a modern translation), will prove to be indispensable. Kinney's edition, included in CW 15, is based on the recently discovered Paris Manuscript and represents the first genuinely critical edition of the Latin text, replacing the two earlier Latin texts included by R. S. Sylvester in his edition of the English version in CW 2. For the first time, it is possible to examine seriously the relationships between the two versions. I agree with Kinney's conclusion that the Latin version is dramatically complete. Many of the differences between the two versions are a reflection of the different audiences—one English and the other international—that More had in mind when he wrote his history. The two versions, however, do not always agree even on basic details: Buckingham, for example, seems to play a much more active role in the Latin than in the English versions. More obviously felt free in the Latin version to give a slightly different account of events, to add speeches not found in the English, and to rearrange the order of the materials. These differences no doubt reflect the basic freedom all Renaissance historians claimed in selecting and interpreting the incidents of history. The vast literature on Utopianism is largely irrelevant to my study. Most so-called A Man for All Seasons / 16 utopias are only really remotely connected to More's "golden little book". More clearly had no intention of creating a new genre, and we seriously misread his text by viewing it in the light of the later development and evolution of utopian literature. In fact, there are explicit clues given in the text itself, obvious to More's contemporaries, about the genre (or genres) that the Utopia is modelled on. The double title (De optimo statu reipublicae deque nova insula utopia, "Concerning the best state of a commonwealth and the new island of Utopia" reveals More's true intentions. The Utopia was evidently meant to be read both as a work of moral and political philosophy, and as a work of fiction, specifically as a travel romance. More's libellus, his little book, defies easy interpretation. The enormous commentary and the vast erudition of the Yale Edition has only sparked more debate about the meaning of More's seminal work. I think the real value of the work lies in the questions it forces us to ask about our place in society and in the world, and not in the answers it allegedly gives. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies is a neglected classic, yet C. S. Lewis, who was generally rather critical of More, called it the best Platonic dialogue in English. 15 The Dialogue Concerning Heresies relates a series of imaginary debates between Chancellor More and a Messenger, who represents the Protestant position. It is important to recognise that there are no straw-men in More's dialogues, though there are, of course, winners and losers. The Messenger, though himself a Catholic, puts forward a very strong case for the Lutheran side, which Chancellor More then rebuts. More was obviously writing for other Catholics, with the intention of showing them how to answer the Protestant arguments. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies contains some of More's best merry tales, usually put into the mouth of the Messenger. Many of them deal, in the best Chaucerian tradition, with the follies and corruptions of human nature, including the Church. As a Catholic reformer, More did not attempt to hide the abuses within the church, but he rejected the revolutionary changes advocated by Luther and other early Protestants. A Man for All Seasons / 17 After More's imprisonment in the Tower, he wrote his last great masterpiece: the Dialogue of Comfort. The nominal setting of the Dialogue of Comfort is Hungary, on the eve of the Turkish invasion in 1527. Though the work has been read as an allegory of More's own personal situation and of the fate of the Catholics in England, he was also genuinely concerned about the terrible dangers posed to a theologically-divided Europe by the Turkish invasions. The Dialogue of Comfort clearly works on more than one level. Among other things, it contains what is probably the first serious philosophical and theological treatment, and certainly the first in English, since classical antiquity and the patristic age of the problems of doubt, despair, suicide and martyrdom. And yet, paradoxically, it is a also work of consolation in the tradition of Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy. As an aid to scholars, I have added a major appendix to the thesis. In the appendix I have compiled a one-hundred-and-fifty-page topical bibliography of More Scholarship, containing about two thousand entries, organised according to individual works (the Utopia section alone has about fifty subsections), and also according to more general topics, e.g. More and the Law, etc. 17 The "Bibliographical Appendix," which has a separate table of contents, is presented both as a tool for scholars, and as part of my argument. As far as Utopia is concerned I have not included general studies of Utopian literature, except where they have had a section of at least four or five pages on More's Utopia. Otherwise, I have tried to be as comprehensive as possible. Even just casually glancing through the items in the bibliography makes it very clear that there are still giant gaps in modern More scholarship. The two main concentrations of the bibliographical items are on More's biography and famous martyrdom, and on the Utopia. Almost half of the bibliography (forty-five percent) on More in the Bibliographical Appendix is devoted to background studies, including biographies, plays, general studies of his life and works, etc. While the items on Utopia comprise about twenty-five percent of the A Man for All Seasons / 18 total, those on the other three works under consideration in this study comprise a much smaller portion of the total. Bibliographical items on Richard III, A Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and A Dialogue of Comfort comprise five percent, three percent, and three percent respectively. (The total for all of More's early 'humanistic works'—including Richard III but excluding Utopia—is 15.5%, while the later polemical and Tower works combined—including the two English dialogues—also comprise 15.5% of the total.) Among the items on Utopia, those that deal mainly or exclusively with Book I (the Dialogue of Counsel, and Raphael Hythloday sections) comprise only eight percent of the Utopia bibliography, or about two percent of the total bibliography. My study is aimed at partly redressing the tremendous imbalance and one-sidedness in modern scholarship that these figures reveal. 1.4. A PART OF HIS OWN Erasmus once called his good friend Thomas More a "homo omnium horarum," which was translated by one of More's English contemporaries as "a man for all seasons," 18 but which might be better translated into modern English as "a man for every situation or opportunity." Another of More's friends, John Colet, called him "England's one universal genius". 19 More, as many of his contemporaries, especially Erasmus, noted, had a genius for adapting himself to the situation at hand, and for always playing a part. William Roper, More's son-in-law and his first biographer after Erasmus, records an incident in More's youth that was to be characteristic of the man throughout his life. When he was only thirteen or fourteen, More became a page in the household of Cardinal Morton, at the time Archbishop of Canterbury and Lord Chancellor of England. Roper relates that during his stay in Cardinal Morton's household: thoughe he was younge of yeares, yeat wold he at Christmas tyde sodenly sometimes steppe in among the players, and neuer studyeng for the matter, make a parte of his owne there presently among them, which made the A Man for All Seasons / 19 lookers on more sporte then all the plaiers beside. In whose witt and towardnes the Cardinall muche delightynge, wold often say of him vnto the nobles that divers tymes dined with him: "This child here wayting at the table, whosoeuer shall liue to see it, will proue a mervailous man." 2 ' More's genius for improvisation and play, even on very serious occasions, a quality in which he very much resembled Erasmus, stayed with him all his life even to his very last moments on the scaffold. When Erasmus first visited England in 1499, he met Thomas More, who, at twenty-one, was the youngest and most brilliantly precocious member of a small group of English humanists who were devoting themselves to the study of Greek, and of the new learning coming out of Italy. However, it was not More's intellectual brilliance that struck Erasmus so much as his affability and genius for friendship: I find here a climate at once agreeable and extremely healthy, and such a quantity of intellectual refinement and scholarship, not of the usual pedantic and trivial kind either, but profound and learned and truly classical, in both Latin and Greek, that I have little longing left for Italy, except for the sake of visiting it. When I listen to Colet it seems to me that I am listening to Plato himself. Who could fail to be astonished at the universal scope of Grocyn's accomplishments? Could anything be more clever or profound or sophisticated than Linacre's mind? Did Nature ever create anything kinder, sweeter, or more harmonious than the character of Thomas More? 21 More's life spanned approximately the last quarter of the fifteenth and the first third of the sixteenth century, from 1477/78 to 1535. When he was born in 1477 or 1478, England was just recovering from a devastating period of civil wars. Indeed, the final episode, which More dealt with in part in his own History of Richard III, took place when More was a young boy of five or six, during the reign of Richard III. When he died, England was going through a very stormy, political and religious revolution—commonly known as the English Reformation—a revolution essentially engineered from above by Henry VIII, Thomas Cranmer, the Archbishop of Canterbury, and Thomas Cromwell, Henry's secretary. More was only the most illustrious of many victims, both Protestant and Catholic, that perished in A Man for All Seasons / 20 the eight-year-long bloodbath that followed More's resignation as Lord Chancellor in 1532 and essentially ended with the death of Secretary Cromwell in 1540, ironically himself one of the main architects of the Henrician purges and "witchhunts" of the 1530's. Most of More's major works touch directly or indirectly on the momentous changes that were going on in the Western Christendom or Europe of this period. Throughout most of this period, England enjoyed relative peace and prosperity, although not all benefitted from this state of affairs. The "enclosures" were only the most dramatic example of the profound social and economic dislocations and hardships experienced by many people at this time. After spending a couple of years as a page in the household of Cardinal Morton, young More was sent to study at Oxford where he spent two years from 1492-1494. Perhaps Cardinal Morton thought that his brilliant protege might in time make a good churchman; however, his father, John More, had other plans, and in 1494 More was sent first to New Inn in London, and then in 1496 to Lincoln's Inn to study law. Young More obviously found time to study Greek and write poetry in both Latin and English while attending law School'. 22 By 1501, More had been admitted to the Bar of London and had begun a long and successful career as a lawyer and politician that would last more than thirty years. During the period 1501-1504, More seems to have boarded at least part of the time with the main Carthusian monastery in London. Far too much has been made of this by certain modern biographers and critics of More, especially Richard Marius. 23 William Roper and Nicholas Harpsfield, writing some fifty years after the event, are the main sources for this account: "After which tyme he gaue himselfe to devotion and prayer in the Charter house of London, religiously lyvinge there, without vowe, about lir yeares." 24 During this time he continued to pursue his law career by lecturing at Furnivall's Inn, another of the Inns of Court. There seems to be little doubt that More did consider at one point becoming a priest, but A Man for All Seasons / 21 it is quite another matter to suppose that he would necessarily have become a Carthusian, given the criticisms he makes of the monastic life in general later in Utopia and in the Letter to a Monk, addressed to the Carthusian John Batmanson. 25 True, the Carthusians had a reputation for austerity and piety, and were generally exempted from the widespread criticism of monastic life in the late Middle Ages. Even Erasmus and Colet both regarded them in a favourable light. But clearly, had More actually become a priest, rather than joining a religious order, it is much more likely as Louis Martz suggests, 26 that, being as talented and ambitious as he was, he would have risen in time to the very top of the ecclesiastical hierarchy, and become an Archbishop of Canterbury or York, or like his friend Cuthbert Tunstall, of London or Durham. 1.5. ALL THE WORLD'S A STAGE As a young man Thomas More wrote plays, though these have been lost to us. 27 One of his surviving English poems is a four hundred and fifty line farce written in Skeltonic meter, called A mery gest how a sergeaunt wolde lern to be a frere, 28 which may well have been presented at the Christmas Revels at the Inns of Court. The farce is almost Chaucerian in its ribaldry, and shows strong dramatic possibilities, which with a bit more development could have been turned into an interlude of the type written by More's brother-in-law, John Rastell, or by Rastell's son-in-law, John Heywood. 29 The basic plot of A Mery Gest has similarities to Rastell's Johan Johan, 30 and also Heywood's The Play Called the Four PP. 31 Though More never did go on to write any interludes, the image of the stage-play is an important one that runs through his extant works. The basic topos or metaphor is a very old one, going at least as far back as the second century A.D. Greek satirist Lucian, and indeed it is in More's Latin translation of Lucian's Menippus (1505), that it first finds expression in More's writings. An English verse translation was made shortly afterwards from More's Latin. probably by More's brother-in-law John Raste11:32 A Man for All Seasons / 22 Me thought mannys lyfe wel be lykenid might To a stage play wher it fortunyth alway That they that be the players shal be that day Appareiyd in dyvers straunge clothyng... For as I thynk a play ought to be Of all maner of kyndis & of every degre And some man in the myddis of the play Changeth his garment not hit happyth not alway That in the same aray every man And order shal procede as he began... Yet for all that not suffred there But a short whyle that garment to were But when the play is fynyshed & every man Delyveryng up his apparell than Alteryng his hye estate and his aray His is then as he was before they play. 33 More make's use of this image again later in Richard III (1513-1518); after describing the farcical election of Richard as king, stage-managed at every step by the Duke of Buckingham and Richard himself, the narrator concludes: And in a stage play all the people know right wel, that he that playeth the sowdayne is percase a sowter. Yet if one should can so lyttle good, to shewe out of seasonne what acquaintance he hath with him, and calle him by his owne name whyle he standeth in his magestie, one of his tormentors might hap to breake his head, and worthy for marring of the play. And so they said that these matters bee Kynges games, as it were stage playes, and for the more part plaied vpon scafoldes. In which pore men be but ye lokers on. And thei yt wise be, wil medle no farther. For they that sometyme step vp and playe wt them, when they cannot play their partes, they disorder the play & do themself no good. 34 Similarly, at the end of Book I of Utopia (1516), Morus in criticizing Hythloday's "academic" philosophy, cites the example of an actor, who in the middle of a comedy by Plautus comes on stage reciting a passage in Octavia where Seneca is disputing with Nero: "Would it not have been preferable to take a part without words than by reciting something inappropriate to make a hodgepodge of comedy and tragedy? You would have spoiled and upset the actual play by bringing in irrelevant matter—even if your contribution would have been superior in itself." 35 And certainly, as we know, the historical More was quite capable A Man for All Seasons / 23 at different times to both "play a part of his own", and also "a part without words." In The Four Last Things (1522), in the treatment 'of Pride', he again introduces the image of the stage play: If yU sholdest perceue yt one wer ernestly proud of the wering of a gay golden gown, while the lorel playth the lord in a stage playe, woldest yU not laugh at his foly, considering that yU art very sure, yt whan ye play is done, he shal go walke a knave in his old cote? Now yU thinkest thy selfe wyse ynough whyle yU art proude in thy players garment, & forgettest that whan thy play is done, yU shalt go forth as pore as he. Nor yU remembrest not that thy pageant may happen to be done as sone as hys. 6 From there More goes on to develop the Platonic metaphor of the world as a prison—a theme that later receives extended development in Book III of the Dialogue of Comfort (1534), written when More was himself in prison. That the "World as Stage/Scaffold", which already has ironic overtones in Richard III, could take on a sinister meaning is clear a couple of pages later in his treatment 'of envy'. The author points out the foolishness of envying "a poore soule, for playing the lord one night in an enterlude. And also couldest y U enuy a perpetual sick man,... a man that is but a prysoner damned to deth, a man that is in ye cart alredy carying forward?" 37 He goes on to cite the example of a great Duke 38 who threw a great wedding party for the marriage of his daughter and asks the reader to imagine himself there: if thou beyng thereat, and at the syght of the rialty and honoure shewed hym of all the country about resorting to hym, whyle they knele & crouche to hym, & at euerye word barehed bigrace him, if thou sholdest sodeinly be surely aduertised, yt for secret treason lately detected to the king he shold vndoutedly be taken the morow his courte al broken vp, his goodes ceased, his wife put out, his children dysherited, himselfe caste in prison, broughte furth & arrayned, the matter out of question, & he should be condemned, his cote armour reuersed, his gilt spurres hewen of his heles, himself hanged drawen and quartered, howe thinkeste thou by thy fayth amyd thyne enuy, shouldeste thou not sodaynly chaunge into pity? 3 ') More never had any illusions about the part he was called to play on the world's stage, 4° and when it came time to take his own stand upon the scaffold, he did it with A Man for All Seasons / 24 characteristic poise, aplomb and self-mastery. The early Protestant historian Edward Hall was perplexed by More's famous death-stand: "I cannot tell whether I should call him a foolishe wyseman, or a wise foolisheman" and after recounting some of More's famous jokes on the scaffold concludes: "thus wt a mocke he ended his life." 41 Roper and Harpsfield also record, in a more sympathetic fashion, some of these jests: "Where, goinge vppe the scaffold, which was so weake that it was ready to fall, he said merilye to master Leiuetenaunte: 'I pray you, master Leiuetenaunte, see me salf vppe, and for my cominge downe let me shifte for my self. "i42 A Man for All Seasons / 25 NOTES 1. Book II is structured as a declamation, for which the dialogue in Book I serves as an introductory 'frame.' 2. See The Correspondence of Sir Thomas More, ed. E. F. Rogers (Princeton: Princeton UP, 1947), #206, pp. 514-32. This letter, written by More's eldest daughter to his step-daughter, reports a dialogue between Margaret Roper and her father. It is believed by most More scholars to be a joint composition by Margaret Roper and her father. 3. To this list at the very least can be added the voices of the suffering souls in Purgatory in The Supplication of Souls, and the 'mini-dialogue' of the Wife of Botulph's Wharf in Book VIII of The Confutation of Tyndale's Answer, CW 8, 883/28-905/23. 4. For studies of post-classical dialogue, see S. Lehrer, Boethius and Dialogue (Princeton, NJ: 1985); D. Marsh, The Quattrocento Dialogue: Classical Tradition and Humanist Innovation (Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1980); E. Merrill, The Dialogue in English Literature (New York: 1911); B. R. Voss, Der Dialog in der friihchristlichen Literatur (Munich: 1970); K. J. Wilson, "The Continuity of Post-Classical Dialogue," Cithara 21:1 (1981): 23-44 and Incomplete Fictions: The Formation of English Renaissance Dialogue (Washington, DC: Catholic U of America P, 1985). 5. For some recent attempts to define the dialogue as a Renaissance genre, see C. J. R. Armstrong, "The Dialectical Road to Truth: The Dialogue," French Renaissance Studies, 1540-70: Humanism and the Encyclopedia, ed. P. Sharratt (Edinburgh: Edinburgh UP, 1976), 36-57; P. Burke, "The Renaissance Dialogue," RenS 3 (1989): 1-12; V. Cox, The Renaissance Dialogue: Literary Dialogue in its Social and Political Contexts, Castiglione to Galileo (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1992); R. Deakins, "The Tudor Prose Dialogue: Genre and Anti-Genre," SEL 20 (1980): 5-23; J. F. Tinkler, "Humanism and Dialogue," Parergon ns 6 (1988): 197-215; and the studies by D. Marsh and K. J. Wilson in n.4. 6. For general studies of More's 'art of dialogue', see W. M. Gordon, "The Platonic Dramaturgy of Thomas More's Dialogues," JMRS 8 (1978): 193-215; G. Marc'hadour, "Here I Sit: Thomas More's Genius for Dialogue," Thomas More: Essays on the Icon, ed. D. Grace and B. Byron (Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1980), 9-42; and "Thomas More: De la conversation au dialogue," Le dialogue au temps de la Renaissance, ed. M. T. Jones-Davies (Paris: Jean Touzot, 1984), 35-57; R. Pineas, "Thomas More's Use of the Dialogue Form as a Weapon of Religious Controversy," SRen 7 (1960): 193-206; N. R. Sodeman, "Rhetoric in More's English Dialogues," Moreana 59/60 (1978): 13-18; R. S. Sylvester, "Three Dialogues," Moreana 64 (1980): 65-78; and K. J. Wilson, "Thomas More: The Transfiguration of Dialogue," Incomplete Fictions, 137-75. For the dialogue in Utopia, see also D. M. Bevington, "The Dialogue in Utopia: Two Sides of the Question," SP 58 (1961): 496-509; and R. J. Schoeck, "`A Nursery of Correct and Useful Institutions': On Reading More's Utopia as Dialogue," Moreana 22 (1969): 19-32, rpt. in Essential Articles for the Study of Thomas More, ed. R. S. Sylvester and G. Marc'hadour (Hamden, CT: Archon, 1977), 281-89,627-30. 7. See A. Hanham, "Thomas More's Satirical Drama," Richard III and his Early Historians (Oxford: Clarendon P, 1975), 152-190; and D. Grace, "More's Richard III: A 'Satirical Drama?"' Moreana 57 (1978): 31-38. 8. On Streitdialogen, see E. Reiss, "Conflict and its Resolution in Medieval Dialogues," Arts liberaux et philosophie au Moyen Age (Montreal: Institute d'etudes medievales: Paris: J. Vrin, 1969), 863-872. 9. For William Rastell as editor of the English Works, see D. B. Billingsley, "The Editorial Design of the 1557 English Works," Moreana 89 (1986): 39-48; A. W. Reed, "William Rastell and More's English Works," The English Works of Sir Thomas More, ed. W. E. Campbell, and A. W. A Man for All Seasons / 26 Reed, 2 vols. (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode; New York: Lincoln MacVeagh, The Dial Press, 1931), Vol. 1: 1-12, rpt. in Essential Articles, 436-46, 663; K. J. Wilson, "Introduction," The Workes of Sir Thomas More Knyght, sometyme Lord Chancellour of England, wrytten by him in the Englysh tonge (London: J. Cawood, J. Waly, A. R. Tottell, 1557; rpt. Scolar Press Facsimiles. London: Scolar P, 1978), 2 vols., with an intro. by K. J. Wilson, [v]-[xiv]. 10. The Basel 1563 Lucubrationes contained the Utopia and Latin correspondence, More's Epigrams. and the Translations from Lucian. The 1565 Louvain Opera omnia added the Historia Ricardii Tertii, the Responsio ad Lutherum and the De tristitia. The Frankfurt 1689 Opera omnia also included the Letter to Bugenhagen (first published Louvain, 1568). On the differences between the Basel Lucubrationes and the Louvain Opera omnia and their relationship to the English Works, see M. Delcourt, "Recherches sur Thomas More: la tradition continentale et la tradition anglaise," Humanisme et Renaissance 3 (1936): 22-42; and J. K. McConica, "Appendix II: The Recusant Traditions of Thomas More," English Humanists and Reformation Politics (Oxford: Clarendon P, 1965), 286-94 (an earlier version as "The Recusant Reputation of Thomas More," Reports of the Canadian Catholic Historical Association 30 (June 1964): 47-61, rpt. in Essential Articles, 136-49, 603-04). 11. For the history of the Yale Edition (at various stages), see R. Marius, "Looking Back," Miscellanea Moreana: Essays for Germain Marc'hadour (Moreana 100), ed. C. M. Murphy, H. Gibaud and M. A. Di Cesare (Binghamton, NY: MRTS 61, 1989), 555-62; R. J. Schoeck, "The Yale Edition of St. Thomas More," Editing Sixteenth Century Texts: Papers Given at the Editorial Conference, October, 1965, ed. R. J. Schoeck (Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1966), 7-10 and "Moreans from Chambers to Marc'hadour: Some Recollections and Reflections," Miscellanea Moreana, 539-46; I. Shenker, "Thomas More: 2 Million Words," New York Times Review of Books 25 Jun. 1975: 3, 40-41; R. S. Sylvester, "Editing Thomas More," British Studies Monitor 3:2 (1973): 4-17 (rev. vers. in Moreana 51 (1976): 26-37) and "Editing Thomas More: The Past and the Future," Moreana 58 (1978): 5-12; and D. R. Watkins, "The St. Thomas More Project," Yale University Library Gazette 36 (1961): 162-68. Sylvester also published an annual newsletter in Moreana, see the section More Scholarship: Biographers, Editors and More Scholars in the Bibliographical Appendix. 12. For reviews, see The History of Richard III: Editions and Utopia: Reviews of the Yale Edition in the Bibliographical Appendix. 13. This is Hexter's view in "Thomas More: On the Margins of Modernity," JBS 1:1 (1961): 20-37. Hexter also, rather amazingly, argued seriously at one point for seeing Calvin's Geneva as a fulfillment of More's Utopian reform program, see "Utopia and Geneva," Action and Conviction in Early Modern Europe, ed. T. K. Rabb and J. E. Seigel (Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1969), 77-89; rpt. in The Vision of Politics on the Eve of the Reformation: More, Machiavelli, and Seyssel (New York: Basic Books; London: Allen Lane, 1973), 107-17. 14. See K. Kautsky, Thomas Morus and seine Utopia (Stuttgart: J. W. Dietz, 1888), trans. by H. J. Stenning as Thomas More and His Utopia (London: Black; New York: International Library, 1927); and P. Schwartz, "Imagining Socialism: Karl Kautsky and Thomas More," International Journal of Comparative Sociology 30 (1989): 44-56. 15. English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, Excluding Drama (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1954), 172; rpt. in Essential Articles, 393. 16. There are very few summaries available of the four works under question, and none as detailed as those that I offer in this study. I know of no real summaries of Book I of Utopia, though there is a summary/paraphrase of Book II available in M. L. Berneri, "Sir Thomas More: Utopia," Journey Through Utopia (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1950), 58-88. The most detailed account of the structure of the History of Richard III is that of Alison Hanham: "Sir Thomas More's Satirical Drama" (see n.7), which attempts to impose a rigid, five-act dramatic structure on More's History. However, I disagree completely with her account of the structure. For the Dialogue A Man for All Seasons / 27 Concerning Heresies there is a major summary by J. Gairdner in "Appendix: Abstract of More's Dialogue," Lollardry and the Reformation in England, 4 vols. (London: MacMillan, 1908-13; rpt. New York: Burt Franklin, 1974), 1: 543-78. However, Gairdner summarizes mostly by direct quotation and deals almost exclusively with Book I of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies. The only summary of the Dialogue of Comfort is by Leland Miles in "Appendix A. Synopsis: The Chief Line of Argument in the Dialogue of Comfort," St. Thomas More: A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation, ed. L. Miles (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1965), 243-51. However, Miles's summary does not record the contributions of the individual speakers to the development of the dialogue. 17. There are a number of earlier bibliographies of modern More scholarship, including F. Sullivan, Moreana 1478-1945 (Kansas City: Rockhurst College, 1946); F. and M. P. Sullivan, Moreana: Materials for the Study of St. Thomas More, 7 vols. (Los Angeles: Loyola UP, vols. 1-4 + index: 1964-71, supp. I: 1977?, supp. II: 1985; J. P. Jones, "Recent Studies in More," ELR 9 (1979): 442-58 and A. J. Geritz, "Recent Studies in More (1977-1990)," ELR 22 (1992): 112-40; R. W. Gibson, St. Thomas More: A Preliminary Bibliography of His Works and of Moreana to the Year 1750, With a Bibliography of Utopiana by R. W. Gibson and J. Max Patrick (New Haven: Yale UP, 1961). (For other bibliographies see the section Some Bibliographies in the Bibliographical Appendix.) Of the above-mentioned bibliographies, the two Sullivan bibliographies are arranged alphabetically. The first (Moreana 1478-1945) is a checklist, while the second (which I was unable to consult since it is not available in the UBC library) includes excerpts from the works listed and also has an index. Gibson only covers editions of More's works and Moreana up to 1750. The two English Literary Renaissance bibliographies contain some helpful annotations but also miss most of the recent More scholarship published in nonliterary journals. None of the above bibliographies comes anywhere close to providing the kind of detailed topical analysis of contemporary scholarship that I offer below in the Bibliographical Appendix. 18. "And as tyme requyreth / a man of merueylous myrth and pastymes / & somtyme of as sad grauyte / as who say. a man for all seasons." John Whittington, The Vulgaria of John Stanbridge and the Vulgaria of Robert Whittinton, ed. B. White, Early English Text Society, 187 (London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Trubner & Co., and Humphrey Milford, Oxford UP, 1932), 64/35-37. Whittington was echoing Erasmus's praise of More in the prefatory letter to The Praise of Folly: "ita pro incredibili morum suauitate facilitateque cum omnibus omnium horarum hominem agere et potes et gaudes," Opus epistolarum Des. Erasmi Roterodami, ed. P. S. Allen, H. M. Allen and H. W. Garrod (hereafter Allen), 11 vols. and index (Oxford: Clarendon P, 1906-47, 1958), I: #222, 460/20-21; cf. Encomium Moriae, Vol. 4/3 of Opera omnia Desiderii Erasmi Roterodami (hereafter ASD), ed. C. H. Miller (Amsterdam-New York: North Holland Co., 1979) 67/18-68/1; ["the incredible sweetness and gentleness of your character makes you able and willing to be a man for all seasons with all men," Desiderius Erasmus: The Praise of Folly, trans. C. H. Miller (New Haven: Yale UP, 1979), 2]. See also Adagia. I.iii.86, Collected Works of Erasmus (hereafter CWE) (Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1974-), 31: 304-05. 19. Quoted by Erasmus: "Ioannes Coletus, vir acris exactique iudicii, in familiaribus colloquiis subinde dicere solet Brittaniae non nisi vnicum esse ingenium, cum haec insula tot egregiis ingeniis floreat" ("John Colet, a sensitive and experienced critic, used to say sometimes in conversation that there was only one able man in the whole of England, though the island is blessed with so many men of outstanding ability"), Allen, IV, #999 21/267-70; cf. CWE 7: 24/292-95. Erasmus echoed Colet's words himself many years later, on hearing news of More's death, in the Preface [A 3 r] to the Ecclesiastes (1535): "cui pectus erat omni nive candidius, ingenium quale Anglia nec habuit vnquam nec habitura est, alioqui nequaquam infelicium ingeniorum parens" ("whose heart was whiter than snow, a genius such as England never had before, nor ever will have again, though England be the not unhappy mother of geniuses"), ASD V/4, 32/91-94; cf. Allen, XI, #3036, 192/102-104. 20. William Roper, The Lyfe of Sir Thomas Moore, knighte (hereafter Roper), ed. E. V. Hitchcock, Early English Text Society, 197 (London: Humphrey Milford, Oxford UP, 1935), 5/5-14. A Man for All Seasons / 28 21. CWE #118, 1: 235/20-236/29: "Coelum turn amoenissimum turn saluberrimum hic offendi; tantum autem humanitatis atque eruditionis, non illius protritae ac triuialis, sed reconditae, exactae, antiquae, Latinae Graecaeque, vt iam Italiam nisi visendi gratia haud multum desyderem. Coletum meum cum audio, Piatonem ipsum mihi videor audire. In Grocino quis ilium absolutum disciplinarum orbem non miretur? Linacri iudicio quid acutius, quid altius, quid emunctius? Thomae Mori ingenio quid vnquam finxit natura vel mollius, vel dulcius, vel felicius?" Allen I: #118, 273/17-274/25. 22. The course of studies at the Inns of Court was much broader and much more informal than at modern law schools, and in many ways the Inns of Court collectively functioned like a third "university" in England (rather than as narrow professional schools in the modern sense). For background on sixteenth century legal education in England and on the continent see—E. W. Ives, "The Common Lawyers in Pre-Reformation England," Transactions of the Royal Historical Society 5 ser., 18 (1968): 145-73 and "The Reputation of the Common Lawyers in English Society, 1450-1550," University of Birmingham Historical Journal 7 (1959/60): 130-61; R. J. Schoeck, "Canon Law in England on the Eve of the Reformation," Medieval Studies 25 (1963): 125-47; J. W. Bouwsma, "Lawyers and Early Modern Culture," American Historical Review 78 (1983): 303-27. 23. Thomas More: A Biography (New York: Vintage Books, 1985), 34-43. 24. Roper, 6/9-11; cf. Nicholas Harpsfield, The life and death of Sr Thomas Moore, knight, sometymes Lord high Chancellor of England (hereafter Harpsfield), ed. E. V. Hitchcock, with an introduction by R. W. Chambers, Early English Text Society 186 (London: Humphrey Milford, Oxford UP, 1932), 17/8-18. 25. The monk is not identified in the letter. For the identification of the recipient, see D. Knowles, "Appendix I: Sir Thomas More's Letter 'To a Monk,'" The Religious Orders in England, 3 vols. (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1959; rpt. with corrections 1971), III: 469. 26. "Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man," Miscellanea Moreana: Essays for Germain Marc'hadour. Moreana 100: Volume XXVI Mélanges Marc'hadour, ed. C. M. Murphy, H. Gibaud, and M. A. Di Cesare (Binghamton, NY: MRTS 61, 1989), 405-07; rpt. in Sir Thomas More: The Search For The Inner Man (New Haven: Yale UP, 1990), 17-18. 27. In a letter to the schoolmaster John Holt, probably written in 1501, More wrote, "I have sent you everything you wanted, except the additions I have made to the comedy about Solomon" ("Misimus ad to que volabas omnia, praeter eas partes quas in comediam illam que de Salemone est adiecimus"), St. Thomas More: Selected Letters (hereafter SL), ed. E. F. Rogers, trans. M. Haworth et al., Selected Works of St. Thomas More (New Haven: Yale UP, 1961), 1; The Correspondence of St. Thomas More, ed. E. F. Rogers (hereafter Rogers) (Princeton: Princeton University Press), #3, 2/1-2. 28. The Anchor Anthology of Sixteenth Century Verse, ed. R.S. Sylvester (Garden City, NY: Anchor Press/Doubleday, 1974), 105-19. 29. John Rastell was married to More's sister Elizabeth; their daughter Winifred, sister of William Rastell, was married to John Heywood, and one of Winifred's daughters was in turn the mother of the English poet, John Donne. For More's relationship with the Rastells and Heywoods see P. Hogrefe, The Sir Thomas More Circle: A Program of Ideas and Their Impact on Secular Drama (Urbana: U of Illinois P, 1959); H. B. Norlund, "The Role of Drama in More's Literary Career," SCJ 13:4 (1982): 59-75; A. W. Reed, Early Tudor Drama: Medwall. the Rastells, Heywood, and the More Circle (London: Methuen, 1926). 30. Medieval Drama, ed. D. Bevington (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Co., 1975), 970-89. 31. Medieval and Tudor Drama, ed. J. Gassner (New York: Bantam, 1963), 232-62. A Man for All Seasons / 29 32. A dialogue of the Poet Lucyan —this work survives in a copy in the private collection of Lord Macclesfield at Shirburn Castle, and in a fragmentary copy in Oxford, Bodleian, Douce frag.f13 (S.T.C. 16895, University Microfilms 136). Constance Smith in An Updating of R. W. Gibson's St. Thomas More: A Preliminary Bibliography, Sixteenth Century Bibliography 20, (St. Louis: Center for Reformation Research, 1981), 39, also lists a copy in the possession of Dulwich College. This work remains unedited. More's Latin text and the English translation are printed on facing pages. The relevant passage dealing with the topos of "All the world's a stage", was reproduced from Lord Macclesfield's copy in The English Works of Sir Thomas More (hereafter EW 1931), ed. W. E. Campbell and A. W. Reed, 2 vols. (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode; New York: Lincoln MacVeagh, The Dial Press, 1931), Volume 1: Early Poems, Pico Della Mirandola. Richard III, The Four Last Things, I: 209-10, as a footnote to Richard III (see below n.33). 33. "Haec igitur spectanti mihi, persimilis hominum uita pompae cuipiam longae uidebatur, cui praesit ac disponat quaeque fortuna, ex his qui pompam agunt, diuersos uariosque cuique habitus accommodans.... nam omnigenum, ut opinor, debet esse spectaculum. Quin habitus quorundam plerunque in media quoque pompa demutat, neque perpetuo eodem sinit ordine, cultuque progredi quo prodierant.... Et aliquantisper quidem eo cultu permittit uti, uerum ubi iam pompae tempus praeterijt, apparatum quisque restituens, & cum corpore simul exutus amictu, qualis ante fuit efficitur, nihilo a uicino differens." Translations of Lucian, Vol. 3, Part I of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More, ed. C. R. Thompson (New Haven: Yale UP, 1974), 37/20-23, 27-30, 32-35. 34. The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More, Vol. 2: The History of King Richard III (hereafter CW 2), ed. R. S. Sylvester (New Haven: Yale UP, 1963), 80/31-81/10. 35. "nonne praestiterit egisse mutam personam, quam aliena recitando talem fecisse tragicomoediam? Corruperis enim, peruerterisque praesentem fabulam, dum diuersa permisces, etiam si ea quae to affers meliora fuerint." Utopia, Vol. 4 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More (hereafter CW 4), ed. E. Surtz and J. H. Hexter (New Haven: Yale UP, 1965), 98/18-22 and 372-73, note to 98/17. See also J. Crossett, "More and Seneca," Philological Quarterly 40 (1961): 577-80 and G. Williamson, "Sir Thomas More's View of Drama," MLN 43 (1928): 294-96. 36. EW 1931, I: 84, 479. 37. EW 1931, I: 85-86. 38. Edward Stafford, Duke of Buckingham, executed May 17, 1521. See "Introduction," EW 1931, I: 21-23; and B. Harris, "The Trial of the Third Duke of Buckingham—A Revisionist View," American Journal of Legal History 20 (1976): 15-26. 39. EW 1931, I: 86, 482-83. 40. Roper records that he once greatly rejoiced at a visit that Henry VIII paid to More's home in Chelsea, to which More replied: "Howbeit, sonne Roper, I may tell thee I haue no cawse to be prowd thereof, for if my head [could] winne him a castle in Fraunce (for than was there warre betweene vs) it should not faile to goe." Roper, 21/10-13. 41. Chronicle (1548), fol. ccxxvi, verso, quoted in Sources of Four Plays Ascribed to Shakespeare, ed. G. H. Metz (Columbia, MI: U of Missouri P, 1989), 217. 42. Roper, p.102/20-103/4; cf. Harpsfield, p.204/1-5. On the dark undertones of this jest on the weakness of the scaffold, see P. Grant, "Thomas More's Richard III: Moral Narration and Humanist Method," Renaissance & Reformation ns 7 (1983): 157-82; rpt. in Language and the Discovery of Method in the English Renaissance (London: Macmillan, 1985), 19-47, 160-67; esp. 19-21. 2. THE HISTORY OF RICHARD III 2.1. THE ARGUMENT OF THIS CHAPTER Despite the tremendous controversy surrounding the figure of Richard III, whose evil reputation, though partly based on historical fact, was largely created by More's History of Richard III (and largely in turn taken over by Shakespeare in his Tragedy of King Richard III), very little attention has actually been paid to the text of More's History. What literary and historical critical attention it has received has been largely focussed on questions of authorship and genre, and textual history. And what few attempts there are that have been made to analyse the structure of the work are largely vitiated by the attempt to impose a rigid four or five act "dramatic" structure on the text of More's History. After discussing briefly the major problems of textual history, authorship, genre, background and audience, in this chapter I will offer a detailed analysis of the structure of the work. It is the thesis of this chapter that, despite first appearances to the contrary, the History of Richard III has a very clear and definite structure, and that the work is in fact coherently organized into a number of major and minor sections. The History of Richard III survives in two distinct versions, one in Latin and the other in English. For my study of Richard III, I will make use of R. S. Sylvester's edition (1963) of the English version in CW 2, and Daniel Kinney's critical edition (1986) of the Latin version (together with a modern English translation), in CW 15. Kinney's edition, which is based on the recently discovered Paris Manuscript, represents the first genuinely critical edition of the Latin text, and replaces the two earlier Latin texts included by R. S. Sylvester in his edition of the Latin and English versions in CW 2. With the publication of Kinney's critical edition of the Latin, it is now possible for the first time to examine seriously the relationships between the two versions. Besides collating the two versions, in this chapter I provide a detailed close reading and 30 The History of Richard III / 31 analysis of the text of Richard III, based on many rereadings of both Latin and English versions. As far as possible I have tried to avoid imposing any preconceived structure on the text, but instead have worked empirically in an inductive fashion, in the way that a scientist would conduct an experiment, to arrive at my "model" of the structure of the work, letting it emerge out of my reading of the text. All too often More's History of Richard III has been dismissed out of hand as an example of historical writing just because it does not fit within the framework of the canons of modern scientific history. This somewhat begs the question since "scientific" historiography did not come into existence before the nineteenth century. The crucial question is what More's humanist contemporaries expected from historical writing and whether Richard III falls within the broad range of Renaissance historiography. It is part of my thesis that More's Richard III is basically a work of history, in particular a 'brief history' or anatomy of a usurpation, but that it also contains elements of biography, rhetorical declamation and drama. In the peculiar hybrid-nature of its genre it resembles nothing so much as More's other great humanistic work the Utopia. While More's Richard III does make extensive use of direct and indirect speech—including several orations and reported dialogues, and one long debate—it is clearly not a drama in any conventional sense of the word, nor for that matter a formal literary dialogue. However, there are enough similarities between the use of dialogue and oration in the History of Richard III and in More's three great formal literary dialogues to justify including it in this study. 2.2. TEXTUAL HISTORY AND AUTHORSHIP A full account of the textual history of Richard III is rather complicated; however, some basic familiarity with it is necessary in order to fully understand More's text. The History of Richard III exists in two separate versions, one Latin and one English, neither of which is a straightforward translation of or adaptation from the other. Rather, as first convincingly The History of Richard III / 32 argued by W. A. G. Doyle-Davidson in The English Works of Sir Thomas More (1931), Vol. 1, 1 and reiterated by both Yale editors, R. S. Sylvester and Daniel Kinney, the evidence clearly indicates that More worked independently on both, sometimes translating and adapting material from the English to the Latin versions, and sometimes vice versa. The material in some sections of the work even follows different arrangements in the two versions. The speeches in the Latin version tend to be longer, and the Duke of Buckingham is given more prominence in the Latin. Furthermore, the Latin version concludes with Richard III's coronation, and presents an essentially self-contained account of Richard's suc- cessful usurpation of the throne of England, while the English version continues on, only to break off suddenly at the point where the Bishop of Ely, John Morton, is inciting Buckingham to revolt against Richard. The problem of textual interpretation is further complicated by the existence of several different versions of both Latin and English texts. More seems to have composed both texts in the period from 1513 to 1518, and probably stopped working on them any further in 1518 when he entered the service of the King. No editions of either the English or Latin texts were ever published during More's lifetime. The English version was first published, without acknowledgement of More's authorship, by Richard Grafton in 1543, as an appendix to his edition of John Hardyng's verse Chronicle, and again, in 1548, the text was incorporated verbatim into Grafton's edition of Edward Halle's The Vnion of the two noble and illustre famelies of Lancastre & Yorke. This time Grafton did acknowledge that More was the author. However, William Rastell, More's nephew and the editor of the folio edition of The workes of sir Thomas More Knyght, in 1557 published a substantially different version of the English text together with the following note: The history of king Richard the thirde (vnfinished) writen by Master Thomas More than one of the vndersheriffis of London: about the yeare of our Lorde .1513. 2 VVhich worke hath bene before this tyme printed, in The History of Richard III / 33 hardynges Cronicle, and in Hallys Cronicle: but very muche corrupte in many places, sometyme hauyng lesse, and sometime hauing more, and altered in wordes and whole sentences: muche varying fro the copie of his own hand, by which thys is printed. 3 Among the most important differences are that the material in the opening pages (CW 2, 1-13) follows a substantially different order in the 1557 edition, 4 and that Rastell translated three longish passages from the Latin version (all clearly marked as such) and inserted them at appropriate points into the English version. 5 The 1557 edition became the basis for all later editions of the English text, including the Yale Edition, edited by R. S. Sylvester. Rastell's text was further incorporated verbatim into Grafton's Chronicle (1568), and Holinshed's Chronicles (1587), which in turn provided the main source for Acts I to III of Shakespeare's The Tragedy of King Richard III. (See Figure 2.1 for the relationships between the different English versions.) 6 The Latin text was first published in 1565, in the edition of More's Latin works, published in Louvain. A number of manuscript versions also survive of which the most important are: The College of Arms, MS Arundel 43; British Library, MS Harley 902; and Paris, Bibliotheque nationale, MS fr. 4996 (Ancien fonds), MS lat. 8703. The manuscript versions represented a very different text from the Louvain edition, and Sylvester, who did not know of the existence of the Paris manuscript, wisely refrained from publishing a critical edition of the Latin text, when Volume 2 of the Yale edition was published in 1963. Instead, Sylvester published the Latin text of the 1565 edition on facing pages with the critical edition of the English version. In a separate appendix (CW 2, 96-149), he published the text of the version in the Arundel Manuscript, together with the variants from the fragmentary Harley MS. The English text follows the order of the 1557 edition, but notes all the significant textual variants in the Grafton editions of Hardyng and Halle. One of the most disconcerting features for new readers of Sylvester's edition are the [U] [V] H 1 1543 H 2 [7] 517 1 1550\ 1568 Ha [S] 1557 Figure 2.1: Textual Stemma of English Version of Richard III Table of Sigla used in Yale Editions S^Holograph of More's History of Richard III. U,V,I1V Hypothetical intermediate manuscripts. 11 1^Hardyng 1543, 1st edition. H 2^Hardyng 1543, 2nd edition. H 1-2 or 1543 Agreement of Grafton's two editions of Hardyng's Chronicle, London, 1543. Ha l or 1548 Grafton's 1st edition of Halle's Chronicle, London, 1548. Hat or 1550 Grafton's 2nd edition of Halle's Chronicle, London, 1550. Ha^Agreement of Grafton's two editions of Halle's Chronicle. 1557^Rastell's edition of the History of Richard III contained in the Folio edition of More's English Workes, London, 1557. 1568^Grafton's Chronicle, London, 1568. The History of Richard III / 35 many blank spaces in both the Latin and English texts. Sylvester did his best to typographically match up the corresponding passages in the two versions, and wherever there was material in one version that was missing in the other he left some blank space. Where, however, the material in the Latin and the English versions follow different orders, he put cross references in square brackets in the "white spaces" to the corresponding passages in the other version. ? In 1986 another edition of the Latin version was published by Daniel Kinney as part of Volume 15 of the Yale Edition. 8 Kinney's discovery of the Paris Manuscript of Richard III, must rank as one of the major manuscript finds of twentieth-century medieval and renaissance English scholarship, along with the Winchester manuscript of Malory and the discovery in 1963 in Valencia of the autograph manuscript of More's last major work, the De Tristitia. Kinney's own editorial remarks in the introduction to Volume 15 are very appropriate: Despite the invaluable editorial contribution of Richard Sylvester to the study of More's Latin history of Richard III, neither of the two Latin texts reproduced in CW 2 constitutes an entirely reliable guide to what More actually wrote. On the most rudimentary level both texts are replete with opaque, ungrammatical phrases which give the misleading impression that More left his Latin history not merely unpolished but barely half formed.... Through an understandable oversight the most valuable textual authority for More's Latin history, catalogued as a manuscript in French has gone unnoticed by students of More for the last several centuries. I discovered the text quite by accident while searching through a variety of manuscript catalogues for additional texts of More's letters.... the new manuscript (P) is part of MS fr. 4996 (Ancien fonds) of the Bibliotheque nationale in Paris.... This new manuscript, an elegant and meticulous fair copy in an early- to mid-sixteenth-century hand, contains a somewhat fuller version of the Historia Richardi Tertii than either of those reproduced in CW 2.... Therefore P is not only the least garbled transcript of More's Latin history; it also provides, along with the Harleian fragment, the most final known form of a text which we know More never finished completely. (CW 15, cxxxiii—cxxxvi) For the first time Kinney was able to present a genuinely critical edition of the Latin version based on the Paris manuscript. (See Figure 2.2 for the relationships between the different The History of Richard III / 36 Latin versions.) 9 Kinney's edition also includes a good modern English translation of the Latin, printed on facing pages. Kinney's edition of the Historia Ricardi Tertii supercedes Sylvester's edition of the Latin version, and his discussions of the textual stemmata and the relationships between the various versions of the English and Latin texts in the introduction to CW 15 (cxxxiii-cliii) supersede those made by Sylvester in the introduction to CW 2 (xxxii-lix). However, Sylvester's critical edition of the History of Richard III still remains the standard edition of the English version. Both editions are indispensable for a serious study of More's works. In the analysis that follows in this chapter, I will treat the two editions of the HistorylHistoria as being two parts of a composite text. Throughout most of the sixteenth century, More's authorship of both versions of the History of Richard III was never in doubt. However, at the end of the sixteenth century in 1596, Sir John Harrington first suggested that Cardinal Morton was the author of the Latin version. This was later taken up by Sir George Buck, the author of a partisan defence of Richard III (The History of Richard III, 1646), 10 who violently attacked More's account and sought to debunk it by attributing it to the pen of "wily Morton." 11 Doubts about More's authorship were revived at the turn of the twentieth century, and for a while critical historical opinion swung in favour of Morton's authorship of the Latin version. However, this scholarly canard was decisively laid to rest by R. W. Chambers' introductory essay, "The Authorship of the History of Richard III," in EW 1931, Vol. 1. 12 Both Yale editors have strongly confirmed Chambers' arguments for More's authorship. The case is further strengthened by the many interlinear variants in the Paris Manuscript (and the Arundel and Harleian MSS.), which show striking parallels in terms of habits of composition with those found in the autograph manuscript of More's De Tristitia Christi, so splendidly edited for the Yale edition by Clarence H. Miller.13 [Y1 1 1565 T2 ^ Y3] A^P H[Z] Figure 2.2: Textual Stemma of Latin Version of Richard III [X] 37 1557 L T^1689 Table of Sigla used in Yale Editions X^Holograph of More's Historia Ricardi Tertii. Z^Hypothetical intermediate manuscript. Y 1 ,Y2 ,Y 3 Different stages of development of hypothetical revised manuscript Y. P^BibliotUgue nationale, MS fr. 4996 (Ancien fonds). A^The College of Arms, MS Arundel 43. H^British Library, MS Harley 902. T^Bodleian Library, MS Tanner 302. 1557L^Excerpts translated from Latin in More's History of Richard III contained in the English Workes, London, 1557. 1565^Opera omnia, Louvain, 1565. 1689^Opera omnia, Frankfurt, 1689. The History of Richard III / 38 2.3. GENRE, AUDIENCE, HISTORICAL BACKGROUND AND STRUCTURE More's History of Richard III stands out as one of the great masterpieces of Renaissance historiography. The extensive use of orations, reported speech and dialogue (almost half the total text) 14 gives the work an inherently dramatic quality, a quality enhanced in the minds of many modern readers by Shakespeare's use of it as the principal literary source for The Tragedy of King Richard III. However, the existence of Shakespeare's play has also helped to bedevil criticism of More's History, since many critics, influenced by Shakespeare's play, have tended to dismiss it as 'satirical drama'. 15 Renaissance historians, like their medieval and classical forebears, thought nothing of putting long speeches into the mouths of historical characters. Prior to the twentieth century, most historians self-consciously made use of literary and rhetorical techniques in the writing of history. The placing of composed speeches in historical works in the mouths of major historical personages was taken for granted as being part of the 'rhetoric of history', just as today a modern television mini-series will dramatise an essentially factual reconstruction of historical events with fictitious dialogue. 16 The question of the genre of More's Richard III, was first seriously raised by the twentieth-century historian A. F. Pollard in "The Making of Sir Thomas More's Richard III." 17 Though Pollard does legitimately point to factual errors and inconsistencies in More's account, his characterization of Richard III as "legitimate drama, but illegitimate history", 17a is clearly dismissive if not openly tendentious. More, as author, quite clearly intended to write a work of history, in the broad sense of the word. Twice in the course of Richard III, the work is referred to as a "history": in the opening section, after a digression on the deaths of Clarence and Henry VI, the narrator continues "But nowe to returne to the course of this hystorye" (CW 2, 9/20; "But to return to the history" CW 15, 328/6), 18 and again in the 'Continuation' of the English version: The History of Richard III / 39 Howbeit concerning yt opinion [that Perkin Warbeck was one of the Princes], with the occasions mouing either partie, we shal haue place more at large to entreate, yf we hereafter happen to write the time of the late noble prince of famous memory king Henry ye seuenth, or parcase that history of Perkin in any compendious processe by it selfe. (C417 2, 82/30-83/3) When one compares More's History/Historia with other early historical accounts of Richard III, such as Dominic Mancini's Usurpation of Richard 111, 19 the Second Continuation of the Croyland Chronicle. 29 and Polydore Vergil's Anglica Historia 21 the generic and genetic similarity is obvious. 22 Pollard was guilty of the cardinal sin of anachronism in judging More's text by the canons of modern 'scientific' historiography. There have been many attempts, by literary and historical critics, since Pollard, to argue for a dramatic structure to Richard 111. 23 However, while no one denies the obvious 'dramatic' features of More's work, it would be no more accurate to call Richard III a drama, than it would be to call Utopia a novel. Furious debates have raged over the historical accuracy of More's History of King Richard III. Despite all that the defenders of Richard III (e.g. P. A. Kendall) 24 have brought forward against More, his account is confirmed in many details by other contemporary `eye-witness' accounts, including Dominic Mancini's Usurpatio and The Second Continuation of the Croyland Chronicle, that More could not possibly have read. 25 There seems little doubt now that Richard III actually had his nephews put to death in the Tower. 26 Whether Richard III was quite the villain that More made him out to be is quite another matter. The record of events in More's History, if not 'scientific' history in the modern sense of the word, certainly agrees in most details with that given by other Tudor historians such as Polydore Vergi1. 27 What makes More's History so new and so unique among English historical works of the period is the use to which More puts history. More's 'brief history,' primarily a study in tyranny and an anatomy of a usurpation, is a masterpiece of character analysis, and a The History of Richard III / 40 summary portrait in action of Machiavelli's prince, with which it is almost exactly contemporaneous. One has to wait until Francis Bacon's History of Henry VII to find anything remotely comparable. 28 When one compares More's History with the undis- tinguished hackwork of the later Tudor chroniclers Grafton, Hall and Holinshed, then the uniqueness of More's achievement stands out even more clearly. The two different versions of the History/Historia were clearly addressed to two quite different audiences. More's Latin version was written in a language that was both timeless and international: the common intellectual property of all of Europe, of all of Latin Christendom. In the hands of sophisticated humanists like More or Erasmus, it could become an almost infinitely supple and flexible vehicle for conveying complex ideas. The Latin version was obviously addressed to an international audience of humanist scholars and statesmen who could be expected to have at least a passing acquaintance with the conventions of classical historiography, but not necessarily with local English history. At least some of the additions to the Latin version consist of explanations of English customs and usages that this audience would not have been familiar with. It is significant that two of the four main witnesses to the textual transmission of the Latin version have a continental provenance: the Louvain 1565 edition and the Paris Manuscript. Sylvester suggests that either William Rastell or More's secretary John Harris, took the Historia Ricardi Tertii with them to Louvain, where they had both fled to escape religious persecution under Elizabeth I (CW 2, xlvii-1). D. Kinney gives a brief history of the Paris Manuscript after the sixteenth century in a note (CW 15, cxxxiv, n.1); but refuses to speculate on how it first got to France. I will hazard a guess. It is clear that the Paris Manucript, which is obviously a presentation manuscript that was prepared with some care, was destined for a figure of some importance: either royalty, or a senior ecclesiastic or a fellow humanist. Given the politically sensitive nature of the material, the first two are The History of Richard III / 41 unlikely. If one further assumes that the manuscript was destined for a continental recipient, then one name immediately comes to mind: Erasmus. Erasmus clearly had a strong interest in history and had edited a number of the Roman historians. 29 However, I would like to suggest another possible candidate: Guillaume Bude. Bude was himself an historian, and a lawyer like More, and held a position at the court of Francis I in Paris. 39 More and Bude exchanged letters, and Bude contributed a very important prefatory letter to the second edition (Paris, 1517) of the Utopia. More was so grateful that he sent him a pair of hunting dogs as a gift. 31 Besides the hunting dogs, I would like to suggest that More may have also sent him a copy of the Historia Ricardi Tertii. There were few humanists on the Continent better equiped to appreciate More's intentions in writing Richard III. than Guillaume Bude, and Bud4 was himself a prime example of the kind of international audience that I believe the Latin version was intended for. The potential audience for the English version is much more problematic. More was a pioneer in writing history in the vernacular. With the exception of some local chronicles, Latin was the language of serious historical writing in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. It is true that by the end of the Middle Ages, serious historical works began to appear in the vernacular. Froissart and Commynes both wrote in French, and Machiavelli's History of Florence was written in Italian. However, one has to go back all the way to the Anglo-Saxon and early Middle English period to the Anglo-Saxon Chronicle and the Old English translation of Bede's Ecclesiastical History to find anything even remotely comparable in English. There was not really a significant audience for vernacular history. All the ecclesiastics and the English humanists would naturally be expected to read the Latin version. Most of the nobility and courtiers by this point could also read Latin. Those, such as the citizen class in London, who did read the vernacular chronicles, lacked the level of sophistication that. More's account sometimes expects of its readers. The History of Richard III / 42 In many ways, More seems almost to have been attempting to create an audience for vernacular history. (An audience, no doubt, that was meant to include a significant number of women, given the strong treatment of both the Queen and Mistress Shore shown in the texts.) More's English style in the History of Richard III seems rather rough and unpolished by comparison with his Latin. In many ways, More was a pioneer in developing English prose into a medium powerful and robust enough for expressing complex philosophical and theological ideas. On the other hand, More's English is also more colloquial and idiomatic: one can almost hear the good citizens of London speaking through the English text. Indeed, More's style in the English version of Richard III compares favorably with that of the best of his later English works, especially, the Dialogue Concerning Heresies and the Dialogue of Comfort. 32 The structure of More's Richard III can be broken down into eight or nine major sections (including the 'Continuation' of the English version) of ten to twelve pages each (except the concluding eighth section which is somewhat shorter), 33 each of which can be in turn broken down into two or more subsections (see Figure 2.3). 34 These sections which mark natural breaks in the text seem to correspond with what we know of More's habits of composition in the De tristitia and elsewhere. 35 In the analysis that follows, I will focus mainly on the passages of direct and indirect speech—how they contribute to the literary artistry of the work as a whole, and how the dialectical movement from speaker to speaker in the History of Richard III, anticipates the artistry of More's later formal dialogues. 36 Of the approximately seventy-five books and articles in the section on the History of Richard III in the "Bibliography of More Scholarship" in the Appendix, none offers as detailed an analysis of the structure of the History of Richard III37 as I offer here. The analysis offered below is also unique in collating the English and Latin versions, 38 and in drawing on them both to give a fuller sense of More's literary artistry. The History of Richard III / 43 I) Introductory Section (CW 2, pp. 3-13 = CW 15, pp. 314-36) 1. 3/1-6/8 = 314/1-20/14^Death of Edward IV; Richard is briefly introduced. 2. 6/9-9/7 = 320/15-26/18^Deaths of Richard, Duke of York, Clarence, and Henry VI; Character sketch of Richard III. 3. 9/7-10/9 = 326/18-28/23^Richard plans to usurp the throne. 4. 10/10-13/31 = 328/24-36/23 Edward IV's last illness and death bed speech. II) Edward V deposed and Queen flees to Sanctuary (CW 2, pp. 13-22 = CW 15, pp. 336-54) 1. 13/31-17/7 = 336/24-44/5^The Queen's kinsmen escort Edward V from Ludlow to London. 2. 17/7-20/17 = 344/6-50/15^Richard and Buckingham detain Edward V at Northampton and arrest the Queen's relatives. 3. 20/17-23/1 = 350/16-54/28 The Queen takes sanctuary in Westminster Abbey with her younger son Richard, duke of York. III) The Meeting of the Lords in Council (CW 2, pp. 23-33 = CW 15, pp. 356-76) 1. 23/1-25/17 = 356/1-60/3 ^ ^The Lord Chamberlain Hastings addresses the Lords and calms their fears. Edward V arrives in London. 2. 25/10-28/19 = 360/4-66/5^Richard plots to get the younger son out of sanctuary. The Cardinal Archbishop of Canterbury is sent to persuade the Queen. 3. 28/19-33/19 = 366/6-76/17^Buckingham's speech denouncing the abuses of sanctuary. IV) The Debate on Sanctuary (CW 2, pp. 33-42 = CW 15, pp. 376-96) 1. 33/20-34/30 = 376/18-78/20 The Lord Cardinal goes to the Queen at Westminster Abbey. 2. 34/31-40/8 = 378/21-90/25 The "debate" between the Queen and the Cardinal. The Queen defends her rights as legal guardian. 3. 40/9-42/24 = 390/26-96/20 The Queen is forced to hand over her younger son. The two young Princes are taken to the Tower of London. V) The Execution of Hastings (CW 2, pp. 42-54 = CW 15, pp. 396-422) 1. 42/24-45/5 = 396/21-402/12 How Richard persuaded Buckingham to join him 2. 45/6-46/26 = 402/13-06/13^Catesby's treachery and Lord Stanley's mistrust of Richard. 3. 46/27-49/24 = 406/14-12/21 The Council meeting in the Tower. Execution of Hastings. 4. 49/15-54/14 = 414/1-22/26^Lord Stanley's dream and other portents. VI) Edward IV's Love Life (CW 2, pp. 54-66 = CW 15, pp. 424-448) 1. 54/13-57/13 = 424/1-30/14^Richard makes Mistress Shore do public penance. 2. 57/14-59/2 = 430/15-36/6^Execution of the Queen's relatives. 3. 60/2-66/8 = 436/4-48/16^Edward IV's courtship of Lady Elizabeth Gray (the Queen). VII) Doctor Shaa and Buckingham (CW 2, pp. 66-77 = CW 15, pp. 448-474) 1. 66/9-68/34 = 448/17-54/12^Doctor Shaa's sermon alleging the bastardy of Edward IV's children by Elizabeth Gray. 2. 69/1-74/34 = 454/13-68/14^Buckingham's Guildhall speech denouncing Edward IV's greed, rapacity and sexual libertinism. 3. 74/34-77/6 = 468/15-74/2^The stony silence of the citizens of London, and the fake accla- mation of Richard as King. VIII) Richard's Coronation (CW 2, pp. 77-82 = CW 15, pp. 474-484) 1. 77/7-81/10 = 474/3-82/24^Richard's stage-managed "election" as King at Baynard Castle. 2. 81/11-82/12 = 482/25-84/25 The Coronation at Westminster Hall. IX) The English Continuation (CW 2, pp. 82-93) 1. 82/13-87/4^ The murder of the Princes in the Tower. 2. 87/4-90/17^ Richard becomes paranoid, and falls out with Buckingham. 3. 90/17-93/25^John Morton, Bishop of Ely, incites Buckingham to revolt. Figure 2.3. The Structure of Richard III The History of Richard III / 44 2.4. ANALYSIS OF THE TEXT 2.4.1. Introduction and Death of Edward IV (App. A.1, Sec. I) The introduction to More's History of Richard III is, I think, rather confusing to readers who are encountering it for the first time. 39 It begins not with a description of Richard III, but with the death of Edward IV, Richard's brother, at the end of which Richard is briefly introduced (CW 2, 3-6; CW 15,314-20). After giving a brief encomiastic account of the reign of Edward IV, the narrator ° then quickly describes the deaths of Richard, Duke of York, and George, Duke of Clarence—the father and brother respectively of both Edward IV and Richard (Duke of Gloucester, before his coronation as Richard III). The narrator implicates Richard in the death of Clarence, and after giving a brief character sketch of Richard, immediately blames him also for the death of Henry VI (Edward IV's deposed predecessor). The narrator then suggests that, given the tender ages of Edward IV's sons (and Richard's nephews)—Edward, Prince of Wales, and Richard, Duke of York 41 —Richard might have already been plotting to usurp the throne during Edward IV's lifetime, or else, seeing a suitable opportunity with the death of Edward, he seized it. To that end Richard deliberately fostered enmity between the Queen's kindred (including her brothers and her children by a previous marriage), and the king's relatives and the more powerful nobles. The introductory section concludes with an account of Edward IV's last illness. One effect of the rather apparently confusing introductory section (undoubtedly authorial since the Latin version follows the same order as the English version) is to set up a very deliberate dichotomy between the 'good' King Edward IV, "of happy memory", and the 'evil' King Richard III, whose hands are already steeped in blood (Clarence's and Henry VI's), even before he starts plotting his usurpation of the throne. 42 The first major speech in Richard III (CW 2, 11-13; CW 15, 330-336) is Edward's deathbed speech. More introduces a theme that is to be important, throughout the work. The History of Richard III / 45 Edward calls the nobles together and pleads with them to make peace for the sake of his children: "Ye se their youthe, of whiche I recken the onely suretie to reste in youre concord. For it suffiseth not that al you loue them, yf eche of you hate other" (CW 2, 11/18-20; cf. CW 15, 330/25-332/2). Edward appeals to them to love each other and stresses the terrible fruits of "debate and dissencion" (CW 2, 12/29), and goes on to warn them "But yf you among youre selfe in a childes reygne fall at debate, many a good man shal perish and happely he to, and ye to, ere thys land finde peace again" (CW 2, 13/14-17). In the Latin version, Edward makes this point even more strongly: but if you fall at variance in the reign of a child, many good and excellent men are likely to perish, 43 with the prince threatened and you in most danger of all, before a nation which has once broken out in internal sedition will be restored to tranquility and harmony. (CW 15, 336/4-8) 44 In Edward's presence they make a pretence of forgiving each other, but the narrator adds that "their herts, wer far a sonder" (CW 2, 13/30-31). 2.4.2. The Deposition of Edward V and Flight of the Queen to Sanctuary (Sec. II) As soon as Edward is dead, Richard starts sowing dissension. He stirs up opposition between the queen's party and the nobles, and stresses the inequality of blood between the queen's relatives and the nobles (CW 2, 14-15). Richard concludes by undermining the peace that Edward had tried to establish on his deathbed. Richard is the perfect rhetorician in More's account, always ready to adopt a persona, and disguise his inner feelings and intentions. Right from the beginning, More characterises him as a "deepe dissimuler" (CW 2, 8/7): 45 He could adopt any role, then play it out to perfection, whether cheerful or stern. whether sober or relaxed, just as expediency urged him to sustain or abandon it. There was modesty in his countenance when in his heart there was arrogance, uncontrollable, boundless, and monstrous. He would speak flatteringly to those whom he inwardly loathed, and would not hesitate to embrace those whom he had decided to kill. (CW 15, 324/10-15; cf. CW 2, 8/7-9)46 The History of Richard III / 46 Richard's powers of persuasion often act indirectly, and their effects are not fully recognised until too late. He causes the queen to be persuaded secretly "by diuers meanes" (CW 2, 16/11) to bring the princes up to London with only a small retinue because "euery lorde loued other, and none other thing studyed vppon, but aboute the Coronacion and honoure of the king" (CW 2, 16/14-15). Richard's duplicity is further shown after the arrest of Lord Rivers, the queen's brother and of her son by her first marriage, Richard Grey, when he sends a dish from his own table to Rivers "prayinge him to bee of good chere, all should be well inough" (CW 2, 20/4-5). But for all Richard's "coumfortable courtesye" (CW 2, 20/10), he has him executed at Pontefract shortly afterward. The perversion of language is a recurrent theme in The History of Richard III. Lord Hastings, who is one of the conspirators, imitates Richard's example by sending a messenger to Rotheringham, the Archbishop of York and also then the Lord Chancellor: "my Lorde sendeth youre Lordeshippe woorde, that there is no feare. For hee assureth you that all shall bee well. I assure him quod the Archebishoppe bee it as well as it will, it will neuer bee soo well as wee haue seene it" (CW 2, 21/12-15). Despite his misgivings, the Archbishop then hastens to the queen who by this point has taken sanctuary in Westminster Abbey, together with her younger son (by Edward) Richard, the Duke of York. He finds her sitting all alone "on the rishes [rushes] all desolate and dismayde" (CW 2, 21/26-27), wringing her hands and lamenting her family's misfortune (CW 15, 352/27-28). 47 He rushes to console her with Hastings' promise, but the queen is not deceived: Ah woo worthe him quod she, for hee is one of them that laboureth to destroye me and my bloode. Madame quod he, be ye of good chere. For I assure you if thei crowne any other kinge then your sonne, whome they nowe haue with them, we shal on the morowe crowne his brother whome you haue here with you. (CW 2, 22/4-8) The History of Richard III / 47 Rotheringham then delivers the great Seal to her as a token of his support, though later he sends for it again from her in secret. 2.4.3. The Meeting of the Lords in Council (Sec. III) The lords gather in London to await the young king's entry after the Lord Chamberlain Hastings (unknown to them one of the conspirators) has persuaded them to believe that the Duke of Gloucester's (Richard's) intentions were honourable: "With these parswasions of the Lorde Hastynges, whereof parte hym selfe belieued, of parte he wist the contrarye, these commocions were sommewhat appeased" (CW 2, 23/24-27). The conspirators then take some of the household armour of the queen's party and parade it through the streets, declaring: "loe here bee the barelles of harneys [armour] that this traitours had priuelye conuayd in theyr carryage to destroye the noble lordes with all" (CW 2, 24/8-10). The narrator comments that though wise men saw through this ploy "muche part of the common people were therewith verye well satisfyed, and said it wer almoise [a good deed] to hange them" (CW 2, 24/14-15). By this trick and by bearing himself "in open sighte so reuerentelye to the Prince, with all semblaunce of lowlinesse" (CW 2, 24/23-24), Richard wins over the council which then makes him Protector of the king and, so the narrator adds, "so (that were it destenye or were it foly) the lamb was betaken to the wolfe to kepe" (CW2, 24/29-25/1). Richard then persuades the council that the queen is guilty of "malyce, frowardenesse [perversity], or foly" (27/13-14) for keeping in sanctuary the young prince, Richard Duke of York,whom he hypocritically describes as "after my soueraygne Lorde hymself, my moste dere Nephewe" (CW 2, 27/2-3). Richard concludes by pretending to be ready to change his will upon the "better aduyses" (CW 2, 27/18) of the council. All the council "affyrmed that the mocion was good and reasonable" (CW 2, 27/19-20) ("Virtually all the nobility present approved of this speech" CW 15, 364/16). 48 The Latin The History of Richard III / 48 version adds that the clergy were opposed to the use of violence (cf. CW 15, 364/16-27). Thomas Bourchier, the Archbishop of Canterbury and also Cardinal, is then chosen to go to the queen and persuade her to hand over her son the Duke of York. In the ensuing debate the cardinal (the English version mistakenly refers to the Archbishop of York, Thomas Rotheringham, instead) 49 insists that the holy place not be violated, and expresses confidence that the queen will see reason: I truste that shee shall bee with reason contented, and all thynge in good maner obtayned. And yf it happen that I brynge it not so to passe, yet shall I towarde it so farrefoorth dooe my beste, that ye shall all well perceiue, that no lacke of my deuoure [duty], but the mothers drede and womannishe feare, shall bee the let [hindrance]. Womannishe feare, naye womannishe frowardenesse (quod the Duke of Buckyngham.) For I dare take it vppon my soule, she well knoweth she needeth no such thyng to feare, either for her sonne or for her selfe. For as for her, here is no manne that wil bee at warre with women. Woulde God some of the men of her kynne, were women too, and then shoulde al bee soone in reste. (CW 2, 28/14-25) Buckingham's long response to the cardinal (CW 2, 28-33; CW 15, 366-76) is a masterpiece of casuistry. He sets about duping the council into believing that there is no danger to the queen, and that the prince has no legitimate reason to seek sanctuary, and that his mother intends to send him out of the realm. He then persuades them that "I wyll rather maugrye [despite] her mynde, fetche hym awaye, then leaue hym ther, til her frowardnes or fond feare conuay hym awaye. And yet will I breake no Saintuarye therefore" (CW 2, 29/33-30/2). Buckingham's attack on the rights of sanctuary begins with a criticism of all the abuses that the right of sanctuary gave rise to, but goes on to undermine the very practice itself. 50 More puts some very powerful arguments into Buckingham's speech without necessarily indicating any moral approval of Buckingham's position. Buckingham details all the abuses: thieves use the sanctuaries as a base for their operations, debtors flee there with the property they owe, wives run off with their husbands' plate to sanctuary. Buckingham The History of Richard III / 49 starts by giving a definition of the role of sanctuary: A Sainctuarye serueth alway to defende the bodie of that manne that standeth in daunger abrode, not of greate hurte onelye, but also of lawful hurte. For agaynste vnlawfull harmes, neuer Pope nor Kynge entended to priueledge anye one place. (CW 2, 31/28-32/1) I for one have always supposed that the true and original function of sanctuaries is to protect the persons of those who would otherwise face some harm both great and (above all) deserved. For to avoid undeserved harm there is no need to appeal to a privilege belonging exclusively to any one place. (CW 15, 372/21-25) 51 He goes on to argue that the Duke of York does not need sanctuary because he has done no wrong: "And so saintuary as for him, neither none he nedeth, nor also none can haue" (CW 2, 32/11-12). Buckingham continues with some more frivolous examples including that of the school boy who flees to sanctuary to escape his schoolmaster: "And verelye I haue often heard of saintuarye menne. But I neuer heard erste of saintuarye chyldren" (CW 2, 33/8-9). The final conclusion of Buckingham's speech is the claim that "he that taketh one oute of saintuary to dooe hym good, I say plainely that he breaketh no saintuary" (CW 2, 33/17-19). The lords and the spirituality agree with Buckingham, "thinking none hurt erthly ment towarde the younge babe" (CW 2, 33/21-22), that the boy should be taken from the sanctuary, though they thought it best to use verbal persuasion rather than force (CW 15, 376/21-22). 52 2.4.4. The Debate on Sanctuary Between the Queen and the Cardinal (Sec. IV) The cardinal (Bourchier) agrees to go to the queen. He is accompanied by a group of lords who are ready to seize the boy if the queen does not agree to hand him over. The cardinal addresses the queen and tries to persuade her that the young prince should be with his brother and that by keeping him in the sanctuary, "that place whiche they reckoned as a prisone" (CW 2, 34/18-19), that she was demeaning his estate. The queen retorts that the king (Edward V) were better off to be with his brother in sanctuary under the custody of The History of Richard III / 50 their mother. She stresses the sickness of the younger prince. The cardinal begins to get impatient with the queen and points out that she was content to let her older son out of her care when he kept household at Ludlow in Wales: Not very well content, quod the Quene: And yet the case is not like: for the tone was then in helthe, and the tother is now sike. In which case I merueile greatly that my lord protectour is so disirous to haue him in his keping where if the child in his sicknes miscaried by nature, yet might he runne into slaunder and suspicion of fraude. (CW 2, 35/32-36/2; cf. CW 15, 382/3-9) She then expresses her concern for the fate of her friends whom the protector has had arrested. The cardinal expresses his opinion that they were not in any real danger and that the matter would be cleared up as soon as it was properly examined. However, the queen is not persuaded and expresses her determination to keep the young duke with her in the sanctuary. The cardinal then threatens her: "Truely madame, quod he, and the farder [more fearful] that you be to delyuer him, the farder [more fearful] 53 bene other men to suffer you to kepe hym, lest your causeles fere might cause you ferther to conuay him" (CW2, 37/12-14). He stresses that the nobles are ready to fetch the young prince out of the sanctuary. Although by now the writing is on the wall, and it has become obvious that the clergy and the nobles are prepared to let Richard take the prince out of the sanctuary, the queen makes one last impassioned defence of her son and of her right to keep him in sanctuary: A syr quod the Quene, hath the protectour so tender zele to him, that he fereth nothing but lest he should escape hym. Thinketh he that I would sende hym hence, which neyther is in ye plight to sende out, and in what place coulde I recken him sure, if he be not sure in this the sentuarye whereof, was there neuer tiraunt yet so deuelish, that durste presume to breake. And I trust god as strong now to withstande his aduersaries, as euer he was. But my sonne can deserve no sentuary, and therefore he cannot haue it. Forsoth he hath founden a goodly glose, by whiche that place that may defend a thefe, may not saue an innocent. But he is in no iupardy nor hath no nede therof. Wold god he had not. Troweth the protector (I pray god he may proue a protectour) troweth he that. I parceiue The History of Richard III / 51 not whereunto his painted processe draweth? (CW 2, 37/21-38/10; cf. CW 15, 386/9-29) She goes on to rebut Richard's arguments (as relayed by the cardinal) point by point and stresses her legal rights as the child's guardian, that no one can take the child out of sanctuary, without violating the rights of sanctuary. In the Latin version, she goes on to remind Bourchier that she had once taken sanctuary there before with her elder son (CW 15, 388/28-390/10; cf. CW 2, 39/7-24). 54 She reiterates her right as guardian to keep the young prince in sanctuary and gives as her reason: The cause of my fere hath no man to doe to examine. And yet fere I no ferther then ye law fereth which as lerned men tell me forbiddeth euery man the custody of them, by whose death he may inherite lesse lande then a kingdome. (CW 2, 39/30-34; cf. CW 15, 390/13-18) She ends her speech by praying that those who break sanctuary may find themselves in need of sanctuary but be unable to come to it. The cardinal, perceiving that the queen was becoming more and more worked up against the protector, in the end forces the issue by telling her he would no longer dispute the matter and that if she freely turned the young duke over to him he would "lay his owne body & soule both in pledge" (CW 2, 40/14), but that if she refuses he would depart and leave her to the mercy of the protector's men. Recognising that her hand has been forced, she hands the Duke of York over to the cardinal, but she then turns to the lords present there and warns them not to trust Richard: We haue also had experience yt the desire of a kingdome knoweth no kinred. The brother hath bene the brothers bane. And may the nepheus be sure of their vncle? (CW 2, 41/23-27) Furthermore we have learned by experience how easily the detestable thirst for dominion swallows up any feelings of kinship; when brother slays brother and a child forces his way to the throne over his parent's dead body, will a nephew be safe from his uncle? (CW 15, 394/14-18) 55 Then she hands over her son. The narrator presents us with a touching little scene of the The History of Richard III / 52 mother and son weeping as they say goodbye. She begs her son for one last kiss: "let me kis you ones yet ere you goe, for God knoweth when we shal kis togither agayne" (CW 2, 42/9-10). She kisses him and gives him her blessing by making the sign of the cross over him as she turns away weeping (CW 15, 396/8-10). 56 The poignancy of the scene is further reinforced by contrast with the one that follows. Richard, ever the master of appearances, 57 pretends to be overjoyed to see the young duke: the protectour toke him in his armes & kissed him with these wordes: Now welcome my lord euen wt al my very hart. (Cm 2, 42/15-17) When the boy was brought to him, the Protector hugged him, lifting him off the ground in his arms, and said, "My dearest nephew and liege, you are a welcome arrival to everyone, and especially welcome to me." (CW 15, 396/13-15) 58 The English version is pithier, but the Latin's "charissime nepos ac domine" emphasises even more strongly Richard's essential duplicity. Richard then escorts the young duke to see his brother in the Tower "out of which after yt day they neuer came abrode" (CW 2, 42/22-23). 2.4.5. The Execution of Hastings (Secs. V and VI) In the Latin version there follows a long section giving Buckingham's motives for joining Richard (CW 15, 396/21-400/20). 59 More's account stresses the initial reluctance of Buckingham to join Richard and seeks to discount the opinion that Buckingham was involved from the outset." More seeks partly to exonerate Buckingham by suggesting that he was more or less coerced into joining Richard's party. The narrator states that Richard sent his own men to Buckingham to persuade him: "he was particularly diligent in broaching the matter to him through astute, diplomatic intermediaries" (CW 15, 398/5-6). 61 These intermediaries so played on Buckingham's fears, according to More's account, that: Wearing down the duke's spirit with suggestions like these, they induced him to follow out a course he already regretted initiating and to persevere vigorously once he had started. And so, since he believed he could not beat The History of Richard III / 53 the nefarious conspiracy, he joined it as a partner and ally, and decided that since he could not remedy the public evil he would turn it as much as he could to his private advantage. (CW 15, 398/20-400/2) 62 Buckingham is both a conspirator and a potential victim. he manages to escape Hastings' fate by joining with Richard and helping him to usurp the kingdom, though in the end, after his unsuccessful rebellion, he does indeed fall victim to Richard's vengeance. More seems to give a more prominent role to Buckingham in both the Latin and the English versions, than any of the other historical accounts, partly as a foil to Richard himself. In contrast to Buckingham's awareness of Richard's duplicity, Hastings is extremely naive. Though he is himself one of the conspirators against the queen's party, he remains completely in the dark about the true intentions of his fellow conspirators. He puts too much trust in his factotum Catesby, who had also been secretly recruited by Richard. Lord Stanley, the Earl of Derby, who was a close friend of Hastings, on the other hand distrusts Richard and criticises him for having two councils: For while we (quod he) talke of one matter in the tone place, litle wote we wherof they talk in ye tother place. My lord (quod the lord Hastinges) on my life neuer doute you. For while one man is there which is neuer thence, neuer can there be thinge ones minded that should sownde amisse toward me, but it should be in mine eares ere it were well oute of their mouthes. This ment he by Catesby... (CW 2, 45/13-19) Hastings ends up being completely duped by his spy, the double-agent Catesby. Richard sends Catesby to sound Hastings out as to whether he would support Richard's plans to usurp the kingdom: "But Catesby whither he assayed him or assaied him not, reported vnto them, that he founde him so fast [steadfast], and hard him speke so terrible woordes, that he durst no further breke [reveal]" (CW 2, 46/14-16). Hastings is completely taken in by the remarkable display of feigned friendship that Richard and Buckingham then show towards him. The narrator comments ironically that: "vndoubtedly the protectour loued him wel, & loth was to haue loste him, sauing for fere lest his life shoulde haue quailed their purpose" The History of Richard III / 54 (047 2, 46/10-11). All this is a prelude to the council meeting to plan the coronation of Edward V. More's narrative begins innocently enough with a little scene made use of later by Shakespeare in his play. 63 When Richard enters the council chamber, he asks the Bishop of Ely (John Morton) for a dish of strawberries: my lord you haue very good strawberies at your gardayne in Holberne, I require you let vs haue a messe of them. Gladly my lord, quod he, woulde god I had some better thing as redy to your pleasure as that. And therwith in al the hast he sent hys seruant for a messe of strauberies (CW 2, 47/6-10). "Father, I hear you have some very fine strawberries ripening in your garden. I know you will not mind presenting one bowl of them to so many nobles as your contribution to lunch." "I wish I could as easily do something bigger as I will be glad to do this much," he answered, and at once sent a servant to fetch them. (CW 15, 406/18-22) 64 Sylvester, for one, 65 points to the rich symbolism of this "symbolum" (token or contribution). Almost immediately after this Richard exits 'left-stage'. When he returns, he has undergone a startling transformation. He accuses the council members of plotting his destruction: "what were they worthy to haue, that compasse & ymagine the distruccion of me, being so nere of blood vnto ye king and protectour of his riall person & his realme" (CW 2, 47/21-23). He begins by accusing the queen of sorcery. The narrator comments on Hastings' initial relief (cf. 47/32-48/6), though Hastings is uneasy that he has not been warned beforehand. The scene that follows, however, is one of those brilliant little vignettes that More's works are so full of, like the 'merry tales' in the theological and polemical works. The protector repeats the charge of witchcraft, this time including Mistress Shore, one of Edward's former mistresses, as well as the queen: ye shal al se in what wise that sorceres and that other witch of her counsel shoris wife wt their affynite [companions], haue by their sorcery & witchcraft wasted my body. And therwt he plucked vp hys doublet sleue to The History of Richard III / 55 his elbow vpon his left arme, where he shewed a werish [shrivelled] withered arme and small, as it was neuer other. And thereupon euery mannes mind sore misgaue them, well perceiuing that this matter was but a quarel. (CW 2, 48/7-13) "You shall see how this villainess with Shore's wife and other en- chantresses has cast a spell on my body and withered it with their magic potions," and pulling up his sleeve he exposed an arm which was indeed very puny—just as it had been from the beginning. But then everyone but the Protector's accomplices had good reason to be terrified, judging that he was simply in search of a pretext for wrangling, to start with, and then open slaughter. For they knew very well that that arm was puny... (CW 15, 408/26-410/5) 66 The narrator points to the absurdity of pairing the queen with Mistress Shore "whom of al women she most hated" (CW 2, 48/16), and reveals that Hastings had taken Shore's wife to be his mistress after Edward's death. Unnerved by the mention of his beloved (CW 15, 410/10), 67 Hastings answers Richard "certainly my lorde if they haue so heinously done, thei be worthy heinouse punishement" (CW 2, 48/23-4). Richard jumps on him and accuses him of being a traitor: "What quod the protectour thou seruest me I wene wt iffes & with andes, I tel the thei haue so done, & that I will make good on thy body traitour. And therwt as in a great anger, he clapped his fist vpon ye borde a great rappe" (CW 2, 48/24-27). This turns out to be a prearranged signal to be given by Richard. A group of armed men then break in and seize hold of Hastings. What follows is an almost stichomythic exchange: "And anon the protectour sayd to the lorde Hastinges: I arest the traitour. What me my Lorde quod he. Yea the traitour, quod the protectour" (CW 2, 48/30-49/1). Richard then orders Hastings' execution: whom the protectour bade spede & shryue [confess] hym a pace, for by saynt Poule (quod he) I wil not to dinner til I se thy hed of (CW 2, 49/11-13). As for Hastings, the Protector told him to prepare for his death and to hurry if he had any business to do with a priest; "As St. Paul, to whom I have a special devotion, is my patron, I will not take another bite of food before seeing you beheaded." (CW 15, 412/5-10) 68 After confessing to a priest who happened to be by, Hastings is immediately taken out and The History of Richard III / 56 executed, so that the protector would not be late for dinner. The narrator of the Latin version comments ironically "pious man, he [Richard] did not want to violate his oath" (CW 15, 412/14). 69 Hastings' willful blindness to Richard's plotting is brought out by the section that follows. Much of the middle third of Richard III seems to be taken up with apparent flashbacks and digressions that seem to have nothing to do with the main theme of Richard's usurpation of the throne. More was a master of digression and behind the apparent artlessness and illogicality of the digressions, the author works to reinforce the theme indirectly. The section on the various dreams and portents that precede Hastings' death (cf. CW 2, 49/25-52/22; CW 15, 414/1-420/8) is modelled on a long tradition of classical and mediaeval historical writing, in which alleged portents surrounding major historical events are chronicled along with the events themselves. Such portents are partly at least a literary artefact, and do not imply any necessary belief in their veracity on More's part. Whether More invented the account of Stanley's dream or made use of existing rumours or reports is in a way strictly irrelevant. This was part of the craft of history, part of what readers expected from historical writing. Nonetheless, the portents do serve the purpose of underlining the moral blindness of Hastings, both as co-conspirator, and as victim of Richard's plots. The narrator points to Hastings' false sense of security: But I shall rather let anye thinge passe me, then the vain sureti of mans mind so nere his deth. (CW 2, 51/13-14) But I would rather overlook anything than pass over the human mind's illusion of security even on the very brink of destruction. (CW 15, 416/23-24) 7° The section begins with the report of Lord Stanley's (Derby's) dream. Stanley sends a messenger to Hastings to tell him that: The History of Richard III / 57 he had so fereful a dreme, in which him thoughte that a bore with his tuskes so raced [slashed] them both bi the heddes, that the blood ranne aboute both their shoulders. And forasmuch as the protectour gaue the bore for his cognisaunce [coat of arms], this dreme made so fereful an impression in his hart, yt he was throughly determined no lenger to tary, but had his horse redy, if ye lord Hastinges wold go wt him to ride so far yet ye same night, that thei shold be out of danger ere dai. (CW 2, 50/1-9; cf. CW 15, 414/7-19) The Latin version adds the detail that Hastings had been killed immediately in the dream, but that Stanley had been left alive but covered in blood from a wound in the head (CW 15, 414/12-14). 71 Hastings mocks the messenger's account: "leneth my lord thi master so much to such trifles, & hath such faith in dremes, which either his own fere fantasieth or do rise in ye nightes rest by reson of his daye thoughtes?" (CW 2, 50/10-13; cf. CW 15, 414/19-21). Hastings dismisses such dreams as witchcraft and argues that they will only provoke Richard if they take to flight. He ends up sending the messenger back to Stanley with the message "pray him be mery & haue no fere" (CW 2, 50/23). More then proceeds to give another portent to emphasise Hastings' wilful blindness to his own fate. ("Now this yt foloweth was no warning, but an enemiouse [hostile] scorne" CW 2, 50/32). On his way to the Tower to attend the council meeting called to plan Edward V's coronation, he is accompanied by a knight sent by Richard, who has in reality been sent to hasten him to his own execution. Hastings stops to talk to a priest on the way and the knight comments: "what my lord I pray you come on, whereto talke you so long wt that priest, you haue no nede of a prist yet: & therwt he laughed vpon him, as though he would say, ye shal haue sone" (CW 2, 51/7-10). On meeting a herald with the same surname, whom he knew, Hastings reminisces with him about a previous occasion on which they had met, and in which his life had been in danger when he had been falsely accused to King Edward IV of treason by the queen's party. He gloats over the fate of his enemies who now await execution at Pontefract Castle: The History of Richard III / 58 In faith man quod he, I was neuer so sory, nor neuer stode in so great dread in my life, as I did when thou and I met here. And lo how ye world is turned, now stand mine enemies in ye daunger (as thou maist hap [chance] to here more hereafter) & I neuer in my life so mery, nor neuer in so great suerty. 0 good god, the blindnes of our mortall nature, when he most feared, he was in good suerty: when he rekened him self surest, he lost his life, & that wtin two howres after. (CW 2, 52/9-16) The moralizing comments of the narrator only serve to underline the folly of Hastings's complete self-deception and unawareness of his own danger. After Hastings's summary execution, Richard has a herald sent with a proclamation to the citizens of London that Hastings had been planning to seize the young king and take control of the realm. The elaborate nature of the proclamation makes it clear that it was composed before Hastings' death (cf. CW 2, 54/3-9; CW 15, 422/13-20). The citizens, however, are not taken in: one yt was scole master of Poules of chaunce standing by, & comparing ye shortnes of ye time wt the length of ye matter, said vnto them yt stode about him here is a gay goodly cast [trick], foule cast awai for hast. And a merchant answered hym, yt it was writen by profecy. (CW 2, 54/10-13; cf. CW 15, cxli-cxlii, 422/20-26) In the Latin version, the schoolmaster's comment is a quotation from Terence's Andria (476): "You have not spaced these episodes very well, Davus" (CW 15, 422/25-26). 72 The Latin is more elegant but makes essentially the same point. After a well-known digression on the character of Mistress Shore," Edward IV's favorite mistress (cf. CW 2, 53-57), and a brief mention of the execution of the queen's relatives at Pontefract (CW 2, 57-58), the narrator describes how Richard and Buckingham persuaded some of the clergy to lay charges of bastardy both against Edward IV himself and also against his children. Among those corrupted by Richard's party were the mayor's brother Rafe Shaa, mistakenly called John by More, and a friar called Penker. (The mayor, Edmund Shaa, The History of Richard III / 59 himself was one of Richard's fellow conspirators.) The narrator relates that as a consequence, almost by way of divine retribution: Penker in his sermon so lost his voice that he was faMe to leaue of & come downe in the middes. Doctour Shaa by his sermon lost his honestie, & sone after his life, for very shame of the worlde, into which he durst neuer after come abrode. But the frere forced [cared] for no shame, & so it harmed him ye lesse. (CW 2, 59/2-7) Penker lost his voice and stepped down in the middle of a statement, with his hearers ascribing this event to the saints as the punishers of blasphemous adulation. Shaw lost all reputation for honesty and, shortly thereafter, his life, out of weariness with the solitude into which he retreated for shame of being looked at in public; but the friar, who had wiped out his own sense of shame as he wiped off the spit of his many disputations, had long been impervious to infamy. (CW 15, 432/27-434/6) 74 In order to explain the charges of 'bastardy', the narrator then gives us another long digression on Edward IV's wooing of Elizabeth Grey (cf. CW 2, 60-66; CW 15, 436-448). 2.4.6. Doctor Shaa's Sermon and Buckingham's Guildhall Speech (Sec. VII) After apologizing for the length of the digression (CW 2, 66/9-15), the narrator returns to Dr. Shaa's sermon, in which the preacher repeats the spurious charges of bastardy against Edward's children, and even hints that Richard's brothers, Edward and Clarence, may have been born of adultery. The sermon culminates with an encomium of Richard as the "verye face of ye noble duke his father" (CW 2, 67/30). At this point Richard is supposed to enter: Nowe was it before deuised, that in ye speaking of these wordes, the protector should haue comen in among ye people to ye sermonwarde, to thend yt those words meting wt his presence, might haue been taken among the hearers, as thoughe ye holye ghost had put them in the preachers mouth, & should haue moued the people euen ther, to crie king Richard king Richard, yt it might haue bene after said, yt he was specially chosen by god & in maner of miracle. (CW 2, 67/34-68/6; cf. CW 15, 452/15-21) However, Richard missed his stage cue and by the time he had entered, the preacher had gone long past his encomium. On seeing Richard enter, Doctor Shaa repeated, "out of al The History of Richard III / 60 order, & oute of al frame" (CW 2, 68/14), his previous words of praise in honour of Richard. The sermon, however, did not have its intended effect of persuading the people to acclaim Richard king: "the people were so farre fro crying king Richard, yt thei stode as thei had bene turned into stones, for wonder of this shamefull sermon" (CW 2, 68/24-26; cf. CW 15, 454/6-8). The narrator reports that, after this, Doctor Shaa, on hearing from an old friend that "there was in euery mans mouth spoken of him much shame, it so strake him to ye heart, that wtin fewe daies after he withered & consumed away" (CW 2, 68/32-34). More then reports a speech (CW 2, 69-76; CW 15, 454-72) given to the London Guildhall by Buckingham a couple of days later, at which all the prominent citizens were present. Despite all the power of Buckingham's eloquence ("he was neither vnlearned, and of nature marueilouslye well spoken" CW 2, 69/8-9), he was unable to persuade the citizens of London to acclaim Richard king. Buckingham's speech is a masterly diatribe against the reign and character of Edward IV. Many of his charges against Edward IV seem to have had some basis in historical fact, and by placing the oration here, the narrator seems to be seeking to counterbalance the somewhat idealised picture of Edward IV given at the beginning of the History. Whatever the basis in historical fact, the portrayal of the darker, more predatory side of Edward IV by Buckingham does not sway the good citizens of London in any way to support Richard's usurpation. Buckingham, like Doctor Shaa before him, is taken aback by the stony silence of the citizens: When the duke had saied, and looked that the people whome he hoped yt the Mayer had framed before, shoulde after his proposicion made, haue cried king Richarde, king Richard: all was husht and mute, and not one word aunswered therunto. Wherewith the duke was meruailously abashed, and taking the Maier nerer to him, with other that were about him priuey to the matter, saied vnto them softlye what meaneth this, that this peple be so stil. Sir quod the Mayer parcase they perceyue you not well. That shal we mende (quod he) if that wyll helpe. And by and by somewhat louder, he rehersed them the same matter againe in other order and other The History of Richard III / 61 wordes, so wel and ornately, & natheles so euidently and plaine, with voice gesture and countenance so cumly and so conuenient, that euery man much meruailed that herd him, and thought that they neuer had in their hues heard so euill a tale so well tolde. (CW 2, 74/34-75/14; cf. CW 15, 468/15-470/2) The citizens do not prove to be any more responsive to the new rendition and the mayor, who himself is a bit perturbed by the course of events, suggests that the Recorder, who according to custom was the only one supposed to address the citizens in the Guildhall, should repeat the speech again. 75 However, the recorder "so tempered his tale, that he shewed euery thing as the dukes wordes and no part his owne" (CW 2, 75/29-30). The good citizens of London, however, remain as unmoved as ever: But all thys nothing no chaunge made in the people which alway after one, stode as they had ben men amased, wherupon ye duke rowned [whispered] vnto the Mayer and sayd: Thys is a maruelouse obstinate silence... (CW 2, 75/30-76/1) But the people's demeanor remained altogether unchanged, keeping silence as deep as the quiet which generally holds late at night, and with such an impassive expression that they furnished no indication at all of their actual thoughts. But the duke, quite offended to see them receiving his speech with such closed ears and minds, turned aside to the mayor and said "Let them find someone else to put up with their insolent silence..." (CW 15, 470/15-20) 76 What follows is one of those little scenes that More is such a master at portraying. Buckingham decides to force the issue by telling the citizens that the nobles plan to make Richard king whether they consent or not, and that it would be to their advantage to agree to "that thing in which to bee parteners is your weale & honour" (CW 2, 76/7). He then demands that they give an answer one way or another. The citizens begin whispering among themselves secretly, making a noise "neyther loude nor distincke, but as it were the sounde of a swarme of bees" (CW 2, 76/14-15). However, some servants of the duke and some retainers of Richard who had been planted in the crowd: began sodainelye at mennes backes to crye owte as lowde as their throtes would gyue: king Rycharde kinge Rycharde, and threwe vp their cappes in The History of Richard III / 62 token of ioye. And they that stode before, cast back theyr heddes meruailing thereof, but nothing they sayd. (CW 2, 76/18-22; cf. CW 15, 472/6-14) The duke seizes the opportunity to turn this outburst to his advantage and said "it was a goodly cry and a ioyfull to here, euery manne with one voice no manne sayeng nay" (CW 2, 76/26-28). Pretending to believe that this outburst constitutes a spontaneous acclamation of Richard as king, he promises to relay the great affection of the citizens to Richard on the following day (cf. CW 15, 472/20-25). The narrator, however, relates that, as soon as Buckingham had left, several of the citizens grieved openly and turned "their face to the wall, while the doloure of their heart braste oute at theyr eyen" (CW 2, 77/5-6). 2.4.7. Richard's Coronation (Sec. VIII) The tragi-comedy continues on the next day when Buckingham, together with the nobles and the mayor and the leading citizens, repairs to Baynard's Castle where Richard was residing. The narrator's account of the public interview between Richard and Buckingham at times borders on the ludicrous. Richard pretends to be reluctant to assume the throne and initially to be ignorant of their intentions. Buckingham then pretends to coerce Richard into accepting the throne by claiming that the people have made up their minds not to be ruled any longer by Edward's children. And Richard, in turn, 'reluctantly' agrees to accept the crown and his election by the "nobles & comons of this realm" (CW 2, 80/3). (The narrator ironically comments that "These wordes muche moued the protectoure, whiche els as euery manne may witte, would neuer of likelyhoode haue inclyned therunto" CW 2, 79/25-27). In the Latin version especially, Richard claims to be relying on the solid consensus of the people: For my own part, at least, though I know that there is no other to whom the crown rightly belongs by inheritance, I consider your desires more important than any number of laws, which derive all their efficacy from you; and since I see that your solid consensus supports me, lest I should seem either timid about laboring for the commonweal or unmindful of your The History of Richard III / 63 goodwill toward me, here on this day I take upon myself the government of the two realms of England and France, the one to protect and extend and the other to subdue for England, bringing it back into your power and making it submit to those it should obey; for I regard only the management of these realms as my own, but the title and the profit and the ownership as totally your own—as a genuine commonwealth. And the day I stop thinking this way, I pray heaven to deprive me not only of this realm of yours, which I would have wickedly tried to subvert, but of my very life, which would no longer be worth the keeping. CW 15, 480/8-23; cf. CW 2, 79/29-80/16) 77 Unlike the good citizens in the audience at the Guildhall on the previous day, the crowd present welcomed Richard's speech: "With this there was a great shout, crying kyng Richarde king Rychard" (CW 2, 80/16-17). Nonetheless, the narrator makes it clear that the people were not taken in by the charade that they had just witnessed: But muche they talked and marueiled of the maner of this dealing, that the matter was on both partes made so straunge, as though neither had euer communed with other thereof before, when that themself wel wist there was no man so dul that heard them, but he perceiued wel inough, yt all the matter was made betwene them." (CW 2, 80/20-24; cf. CW 15, 482/2-7) The citizens compare Richard's "mockishe eleccion" to the case of the election of a bishop who three times refuses the seat and pretends to be unwilling to accept the bishopric even though he has clearly paid for his bull beforehand. The narrator also points to the element of play acting in the scene that he has just described: And in a stage play all the people know right wel, that he that playeth the sowdayne [sultan] is percase a sowter [cobbler]. Yet if one should can [know] so lyttle good, to shewe out of seasonne what acquaintance he hath with him, and calle him by his owne name whyle he standeth in his magestie, one of his tormentors might hap to breake his head, and worthy for marring of the play. And so they said that these matters bee Kynges games, as it were stage playes, and for the more part plaied vpon scafoldes. In which pore men be but ye lokers on. And thei yt wise be, wil medle no farther. For they that sometyme step vp and playe wt them, when they cannot play their partes, they disorder the play & do themself no good. (CW 2, 80/31-81/10; cf. CW 15, 482/15-24) The Latin version ends here with a brief description (CW 15, 482-484) of Richard's The History of Richard III / 64 formal assumption of power the next day at the court of the King's Bench. Richard's speech, as reported by the narrator, shows his essential hypocrisy and duplicity. He goes out of his way to flatter the lords and merchants, and artisans and, especially, the lawyers, and to show his good will pardons an old enemy of his, one Fogg, who had been brought reluctantly from sanctuary shortly before. The narrator concludes by commenting ironically that Richard's coronation was furnished for the most part with the very provisions that had been intended for the crowning of his nephew. The Latin version seems essentially complete in the form it has come down to us in. As Daniel Kinney points out: "Whereas More's English history takes on the appearance at last of a disjointed and incomplete chronicle, his Latin achieves an unusual compactness by restricting its scope to the play of mendacious and partisan rhetoric that leads up to Richard's success in usurping the throne" (CW 15, clii). I agree with Kinney that, in contrast with the English version, "the conclusion of the Latin as we have it produces a considerable impression of dramatic completeness" (CW 15, clii, n.2). 2.4.8. The Continuation of the English Version (Sec. IX) The continuation begins with an account of the death of the princes in the Tower. This has been the subject of enormous controversy ever since the sixteenth century. (A controversy which is beyond the scope of this chapter even to begin to deal with.) More provides a more detailed account than any other contemporary source—but where the details can be checked they seem to be substantially accurate. 78 After mentioning the doubts held by many as to the final end of the princes, doubts that the pretender Perkin Warbeck played upon during the reign of Henry VII, More goes on to give an extremely circumstantial account of their murders (CW 2, 83-87). He describes how Richard recruited Sir James Tyrell to murder the princes, after Sir Robert Brackenbury, the Constable of the Tower, refused to put them to death. He even records the detail (with obvious symbolic The History of Richard III / 65 import), that Richard was sitting on the privy, when he commissioned Tyrell to do the dirty deed (CW 2, 84/15-16), and mentions the names of the accomplices that Tyre11 chose to take with him. After concluding his description of the murder, the narrator then begins to give an account (never completed) of the rebellion of Buckingham. But before that he inserts a passage that serves as a "flashback" in which the narrator describes how Buckingham was first recruited by Richard to help him in usurping the throne, and of their later falling out after Richard's coronation (CW 2, 87-90). A similar but less developed account had already appeared much earlier in the narrative of the Latin text, and had been translated by W. Rastell and inserted into the English version in the corresponding place (CW 15, 396-400, CW 2, 42-44). 79 At this point, the narrator reintroduces into the account Doctor Morton, the Bishop of Ely (Cardinal Morton in Utopia), who had been taken prisoner in the Tower at the time of the arrest and execution of Hastings, and who had been entrusted after that by Richard into the custody of Buckingham. There follows an encomium of Morton (CW 2, 90/22-91/21), including a brief description of his later career as Archbishop of Canterbury and Cardinal under Henry VII. 80 Morton figures rather prominently in the "Cardinal Morton Episode" in Book I of Utopia, and it is likely, though it can never be proved, that More wrote the continuation to the English version at roughly the same time he was composing Book I of Utopia in the spring and summer of 1516. The encomium of Doctor/Cardinal Morton sheds important light on the somewhat idealised portrait of Morton as the Platonic philosopher-statesman in Utopia. It is clear that for More, being a Platonic statesman was not incompatible with an almost at times Machiavellian wiliness, for the narrator describes how Morton "waxed wt him [Buckingham] familier. Whose wisedom abused his [Buckingham's] pride to his own deliueraunce & the dukes destruction" (CW 2, 90/20-22)—though, unlike the case of The History of Richard III / 66 Richard III, the ends never justify the means. The narrator then describes how Morton led Buckingham on to revolt against Richard, giving us a masterly example of that indirect approach that Persona More will advocate in Book I of Utopia: Thys man [Morton] therfore as I was about to tell you, by ye long & often alternate proofe, aswel of prosperitie as aduers fortune, hadde gotten by great experience ye verye mother & maistres of wisdom, a depe insighte in politike worldli driftes. Wherby perceiuing now this duke glad to comen [converse] wt him, fed him wt faire wordes and many pleasaunt praises. And parceiuing by ye processe of their communications, the dukes pride now & then balke oute [give vent to] a lytle breide [outburst] of enuy toward ye glory of ye king, & therby feling him ethe [easy] to fal out yf the matter were well handled: he craftelye sought ye waies to pricke him forwarde taking alwaies thoccasion of his comming & so keping himself close [secret] wtin his bondes, that he rather semed him to folow hym then to lead him. (CW 2, 91/17-92/2) The last two surviving pages of the English version purport to report a conversation between Buckingham and Morton. Buckingham begins by praising Richard. Morton replies by expressing his acceptance of God's will as revealed through the course of events leading up to Richard's becoming king, but hints that he could have wished it otherwise: Howebeit if ye secrete iudgement of god haue otherwyse prouided: I purpose not to spume againste a prick, nor labor to set vp that god pulleth down. And as for the late protector & now kyng. And euen there he left, saying that he had alredy medled to muche with the world, and would fro that day medle with his boke and his beedes and no farther. (CW 2, 92/12-17) The Duke's interest is piqued and he urges Morton to continue "Then longed the duke sore to here what he would haue sayd, because he ended with ye king & there so sodeinly stopped, & exhorted him so familiarly betwene them twain, to be bold to say what soeuer he thought" (CW 2 92/17-20). However, Morton replies by suggesting that it is too dangerous to talk openly of princes, and tells Buckingham a pseudo-Aesopian animal fable, about a lion that ordered all horned beasts to be put to death. 81 A creature with a lump of flesh on its forehead started to flee the forest. A fox, who was nearby, pointed out that the lump of flesh was not a horn. The creature replied "But what & [if] he cal it an horn, wher am I then?" The History of Richard III / 67 (CW 2, 93/9-10). Buckingham in turn assures Morton that he is safe to speak his mind freely about the matter he had hinted at before. Morton then starts by praising Richard, but goes on to suggest that the realm would be better off if its ruler possessed some of Buckingham's sterling qualities I was about to wish, that to those good habilities wherof he [Richard] hath already right many, litle nedyng my prayse: it might yet haue pleased Godde for the better store, to haue geuen him some of suche other excellente vertues mete for the rule of a realm, as our lorde hath planted in the parsone of youre grace. (CW 2, 93/20-25) The account breaks off here suddenly in mid-speech. This is an explosive and openly subversive 'ending.' It is not hard to see what the drift of Morton's argument is. This was also an extremely daring thing for More as author to put into writing in the sixteenth century. It was one thing to give an account of a usurpation, quite another openly to describe the plotting of a rebellion against an anointed king, however wicked. It is obvious that the continuation opens a whole new can of worms. The sudden and incomplete nature of the ending, together with the fact that it was never published in More's own lifetime raises complex and insoluble questions about authorial intention. Though it is obvious that Morton was meant to figure prominently in the new and expanded text of the English version, and perhaps also provide the necessary link to an account of the reign of Henry VII, we will never know why More broke off his account where he did. Perhaps, he thought that the kind of 'brief history' that he had used successfully to describe Richard's usurpation would not work for the expanded chronicle he now had in mind, or, more likely, he stopped writing because he sensed himself getting into extremely dangerous waters.82 The History of Richard III / 68 2.5. CONCLUSION More's History of Richard III remains as tantalizingly elusive as when he first wrote it (almost as much so as the Utopia). The tremendous controversy surrounding the figure of Richard III (perhaps the most written-about English king with the exception of Henry VIII) is, if nothing else, a tribute to the great literary and rhetorical power of More's "brief history", of his portrait or anatomy of Richard's usurpation and tyranny, which was in turn largely taken over by Shakespeare's Tragedy of King Richard III. However, in More's history, unlike Shakespeare's play, Richard remains mainly behind the scenes, manipulating the other characters or figures in this historical "drama" or "dramatic" history. A succession of figures come forward to speak for Richard: Hastings and Buckingham addressing the Royal Council, Cardinal Bourchier's debate with the Queen on sanctuary, the sermons preached by Doctor Shaa and Friar Penker to the citizens of London alleging the bastardy of Edward's children (and of Edward himself), Buckingham's speech given to the citizens of London in the Guildhall, and the "mockishe eleccion" of Richard by Buckingham, and the Mayor and Aldermen of London at Baynard's Castle. But thoughout the history, Richard himself actually says little. Like the author, Thomas More, of whom he is in many ways an ironic "self-portrait," Richard remains almost entirely behind the scenes, contriving and manipulating the various stages of his own usurpation. (Indeed, we learn about him, unlike Shakespeare's Richard, largely from others.) His various spokesmen and stooges—Lord Hastings, Cardinal Bourchier, Doctor Shaa and Friar Penker, and the Duke of Buckingham—are used to speak for him, only (at least in the case of Hastings, Doctor Shaa, and Buckingham) to receive their come-uppances, when they have outlived their usefulness to him. The major rhetorical and dialectical movements between the various speakers and audiences, and between the various pairs of protagonists and antagonists, anticipate the dialectical movements of the The History of Richard III / 69 formal literary dialogues to be considered in the chapters that follow where, however, the rhetorical and dialectical exchange is sustained in each case throughout by a single pair of speakers (except for the brief appearence of Peter Giles in Utopia I), instead of by a succession of such pairs. More's History of Richard III is quite unique for the Renaissance period (not only in England but also on the Continent) in the way in which it combines the conventions of historical and biographical writing on the one hand, with those of drama and rhetorical declamation on the other. Both in its extremely sophisticated use of narrative technique and also in its extensive use of direct and indirect speech, and in the peculiar hybrid-nature of its genre, it anticipates the formal artistry of the Utopia, with which it is nearly contemporaneous, and of More's two later English Dialogues. Despite the unfinished nature of the work (at least in the English Version), it is worthy to be considered one of More's crowning achievements as a literary artist. The History of Richard III / 70 NOTES 1. "The Textual Problems of the History of Richard III," in The English Works of Sir Thomas More, Volume 1: Early Poems. Pico Della Mirandola, Richard III, The Four Last Things (hereafter EW 1931, I), ed. W. E. Campbell and A. W. Reed (London: Eyre & Spottisvvoode; New York: Lincoln MacVeagh, The Dial Press, 1931), 42-53. This edition includes a facsimile reproduction of the black letter gothic of the 1557 edition, together with a modern-spelling edition. 2. Since More resigned as Undersheriff on 23rd July 1518, this would indicate 1518 as the probable terminus ante quam for the composition of the work. 3. The History of Richard III, Vol. 2 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More (hereafter CW 2), ed. R. S. Sylvester (New Haven: Yale UP, 1963), 1. Significantly, Grafton's own Chronicle (1568-69) reprints the 1557 edition and not Grafton's own earlier edition included in the Chronicles of Halle and Hardyng. 4. For a description of the main differences, see Sylvester's editorial remarks, CW 2, xxv-xxvi. 5. The passages are CW 2, 39/7-24, 42/24-44/18, 81/11-82/12 of the English text. The Latin and the English texts of Sylvester's edition share common page numberings for pages 3-82. All references to CW 2 in this chapter are to the English text. 6. For the relationships between the English versions, see CW 2, xx-xxxii and In Defence of Humanism: Letter to Martin Dorp, Letter to the University of Oxford, Letter to Edward Lee, Letter to a Monk, with a new text and Translation of Historia Richardi Tertii, Vol. 15 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More (hereafter CW 15), ed. D. Kinney (New Haven: Yale UP, 1986), cxlviii-cxli. The figure is adapted from CW 15, cxlix, and the table of sigla from CW 2, cv, with some modifications. 7. For those turning to the History of Richard III for the first time, and who find the layout of CW 2 intimidating, there are other more readable introductory texts (including one edited by Sylvester): The History of King Richard III and Selections from the English and Latin Poems, Selected Works of St. Thomas More, ed. R. S. Sylvester (New Haven: Yale UP, 1976), 1-96; "Sir Thomas More's Richard III," ed. W. E. Campbell and A. W. Reed, in EW 1931, 1: 397-455; "The History of Richard the Thirde (unfinished)," Tudor Prose, 1513-1570, ed. E. Creeth (Garden City, NY: Anchor Books, 1969), 1-80, 471-74. The first two are modernised spelling editions, and the third is an original spelling transcription of the 1557 edition. 8. See n.6 above. The corresponding pages of the Latin and English versions in CW 2 are cross referenced in the margins of CW 15. 9. The figure is adapted from CW 15, cxxxvi (cf. cxlix). The table of sigla is adapted from CW 15, cliv and CW 2, cv. 10. Ed. A. N. Kincaid (Gloucester: A. Sutton, 1979, rev. ed. 1982). For other 'defences' of Richard III, see the section in the Bibliographical Appendix: Richard III: Cornwallis, Buck and Walpole. 11. Cf. Sylvester's discussion of the authorship question, CW 2, lix-lxiii. 12. Pp. 24-41. This is a revised version of an earlier paper: "More's History of Richard III," MLR 23 (1928): 405-23. 13. The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, Vol. 14: De Tristitia Christi, 2 vols. (hereafter The History of Richard III / 71 CW 14) (New Haven: Yale UP, 1976). Clarence Miller has an important discussion on More's habits of composition and Latin style in the De Tristitia, which bears comparison with the Latin style of the Utopia (and of Richard III), cf. Miller's introduction, "Habits of Composition," pp. 745-54, and "Visions and Revisions: Patterns of Style and Thought," pp. 754-76. 14. Forty-six percent of the lines in the English Version (forty-nine percent without the Continuation) are made up of direct or indirect speech. The figures for the Latin Version are comparable (47.5%). [For direct speech (oratio recta) alone the figures are thirty-three percent for the English (thirty-five percent without the Continuation), and 39.5% for the Latin.] 15. Shakespeare's The Tragedy of Richard III brilliantly develops More's portrait of Richard III, but in doing so makes Richard almost attractive as a villain. Only gradually do we see the full depths of his cruelty and rapacity. Richmond seems inevitably wooden and stilted and anti-climactic by comparison. The 'historical' Richard was probably not nearly as fascinating as the legendary figure created in large part by More and Shakespeare. And yet one must be very careful to resist the temptation of reading More's History of Richard III retrospectively in the light of Shakespeare's play. However much Shakespeare's play may have owed to More's text, there are some very important differences. I have dealt with one aspect of the rather complex relationship between More's history and Shakespeare's play in an unpublished paper, "From History to Myth: The Misogyny of Richard III in More's History of King Richard III and Shakespeare's Tragedy of King Richard the Third." 16. For More's indebtedness to Tacitus, Sallust and Suetonius, who themselves made extensive use of orations and indirect speech, see Sylvester's introduction, "Genesis and Models," CW 2, lxxx-xcvii. 17. Historical Essays in Honour of James Tait, ed. J. G. Edwards, V. H. Galbraith and E. F. Jacob (Manchester: for the Subscribers, 1933), 223-38; rpt. in Essential Articles for the Study of Thomas More, ed. R. S. Sylvester, and G. Marc'hadour (Hamden, CT: Archon, 1977), 421-31, 658-63. 17a. Essential Articles, 429. 18. Ceterum vt revertar ad hystoriam.... 19. The Usurpation of Richard the Third: Dominicus Mancinus ad Angelum Catonem de occupatione regni anglie per Riccardum Tercium libellus, ed. and trans. C. A. J. Armstrong (Oxford: Clarendon P, 1936; 2nd. ed. 1969). 20. The Crowland Chronicle Continuations: 1459-1486, ed. N. Pronay, and J. Cox (London: Alan Sutton Publishing for Richard III and Yorkist History Trust, 1986). An older edition is available in "Historiae Croylandensis Continuatio," in Rerum Anglicarum Scriptores Veterum, ed. W. Fulman (Oxford: E Theatro Sheldoniano, 1684), I: 549-92; English translation by R. T. Riley, Ingulph's Chronicle of Abbey of Croyland with the Continuations of Peter of Blois and Anonymous Writers (London: Henry G. Bohn, 1854), 453-510. 21. Three Books of Polydore Vergil's English History Comprising the Reigns of Henry VI and Richard III from an Early Translation, ed. H. Ellis (London: Camden Society, 1844), 173-227. 22. Alison Hanham provides a good overview of the the early historical accounts in Richard III and His Early Historians (Oxford: Clarendon P, 1975). 23. See D. Kinney, "Kings' Tragicomedies: Generic Misrule in More's History of Richard III," Moreana 86 (1985): 128-50; A. Hanham, "Thomas More's Satirical Drama," Richard III and his Early Historians, 152-190 (rev. by D. Grace "More's Richard III: A 'Satirical Drama?'" Moreana 57 (1978): 31-38); T. G. Heath, "Another Look at Thomas More's Richard," Moreana 19/20 (1968): The History of Richard III / 72 11-19; A. N. Kincaid, "The Dramatic Structure of Sir Thomas More's History of King Richard III," SEL 12 (1972): 223-42, rpt. in Essential Articles, 375-87, 650-1 (rev. by M.-C. Rousseau, Moreana 38 (1973): 95-96); R. M. Warnicke, "More's Richard III and the Mystery Plays," HJ 35 (1992): 761-78. Kinney's article is by far the most balanced treatment of 'dramatic' features of More's text, as well as providing the only serious study of the Latin version. For other literary and historical studies of Richard III, see the section in the Bibliographical Appendix: Richard III: Literary and Historical Studies. 24. Richard the Third (New York: W. W. Norton, 1956). 25. The manuscript of Dominic Mancini's Usurpatio (1483) was only discovered in 1936, and the account of the Croyland Chronicle (1486) was only published in 1684 (see nn. 19 and 20). 26. See Charles Ross, Richard III (Berkeley: University of California Press, 1981), 96-104. 27. Polydore Vergil's Anglica Historica (see n.21) was first published in 1534. More and Polydore Vergil were friends, but there is no conclusive evidence that More ever read Polydore's manuscript. 28. F. J. Levy points to the affinities between the two texts: "In a real sense, though, More's Richard III is the true ancestor of Bacon's Henry the Seventh: separated though they are by almost a century, the two books are very much alike," The History of the Reign of King Henry the Seventh (New York: Bobbs-Merrill Co., 1972), 37. See also M. F. Schuster, "Philosophy of Life and Prose Style in Thomas More's Richard III and Francis Bacon's Henry VII," PMLA 70 (1955): 474-97. 29. See J. Chomarat, "More, Erasme et les historiens latins," Moreana 86 (1985): 71-107. 30. For Bude's historical studies, see D. R. Kelley, "Guillaume Rude and the First Historical School of Roman Law," AHR 72 (1967): 807-34. 31. See M.-M. de la Garanderie, "La correspondance de Guillaume Bude et Thomas More," Moreana 19/20 (1968): 41-68, esp. 50-51. 32. I suspect that much of the supposed break or discontinuity, that many modern scholars find between More's early humanistic works and his later polemical and devotional works is really, when one comes down to it, a reflection of the differences between More's Latin and his English literary styles. The early English works, such as his English poetry, his translation of the Life of Pico and, of course, the English version of Richard III, show many of the same literary and stylistics techniques that More was to use so extensively in his later English works. While, on the other hand, More's last major work the De Tristitia, written in the Tower of London, shows that More never, even at the end of his life, lost the ability to compose in good humanistic Latin. 33. I am not convinced by any of the attempts made by past critics to impose a four or five act structure on the text (see bibliography in n.23). However, as long as one does not push the analogy too far, the major and minor divisions, which I discern in the text, might be compared to the "acts" and "scenes" in an eight or nine act drama. For another critic, who divides More's History of Richard III into ten sections, see D. Goy-Blanquet, "Portrait a l'huile de minuit," L'Europe de la Renaissance: Cultures et Civilisations. Mélanges offerts a Marie-TherAse Jones-Davies (Paris: Jean Touzot, 1988), 133-34. 34. The scheme I present here in Figure 2.3, for the various sections and subsections in the text, was arrived at in a totally "ad hoc", empirical fashion on the basis of many readings of both the Latin and English versions. The text of both the English and Latin versions is a seamless whole without any breaks or subheadings. The only clues as to possible divisions within the text are given by the marginal glosses, reproduced in CW 2, added by William Rastell to the 1557 edition of the English Version. I have occasionally found these helpful in making my own analysis. The History of Richard III / 73 35. "I would estimate that the De Tristitia (which is almost as long as the Utopia) was written in about 25 sittings, averaging some 6 manuscript [or two printed] pages and ranging from hardly a page to over twenty pages [six printed pages]" (CW 14, p. 752, comments in italics mine). [The De Tristitia which prints the Latin text and English translation face-to-face with a facsimile of the autograph manuscript, averages nine lines of Latin per page, whereas the HistorylHistoria averages twenty-seven lines for the Latin Version and twenty-nine for the English. So that one printed page in the Yale Edition corresponds approximately to just over three manuscript pages.] By comparison (ignoring the English Continuation), the HistorylHistoria (The Latin version of which is about seventy-five percent the length of Utopia) consists of twenty-five subsections varying in length from one to seven pages, with an average of three pages. 36. I have in mind the kind of dialectical movement that Clarence Miller sees running throughout More's works: "On these points, and others, the movement of his thoughts reveals the flux and reflux of a mind considering and reconciling opposite views. Reading the De Tristitia reminds us how pervasively such a dialectic of contrasting viewpoints is woven into the fabric of More's writings. The ironical cross-lights of Richard III, the give-and-take of the dialogues (whether between More and Hythlodaeus, More and the Messenger, or Anthony and Vincent), the statement and counter-statement of the polemical works emanated from a mind habitually accustomed to debating both sides of an issue, whether in an academic exercise on tyrannicide or an actual legal case" (CW 14, p. 769). 37. Alison Hanham's analysis (see n.23) comes closest but is vitiated by her attempt to impose a rigid five-act structure on More's text. 38. The only serious recent studies of the Latin version are Daniel Kinney's "Kings' Tragicomedies" (see n.23), and "Introduction: Historia Richard Tertii," CW 15, cxxiii-cliv. 39. That this introductory material was also confusing to at least some sixteenth century readers, is clear from Grafton's attempts to rearrange the introductory sections in the Hardyng/ Halle versions—for Grafton's changes see CW 2, xxv-xxvi Hardyng/Halle Versions). 40. For More's extremely sophisticated use of narrative techniques in the History of Richard III see W. M. Gordon, "Exemplum Narrative and Thomas More's History of Richard III," Clio 9 (1979): 75-88; P. Grant, "Thomas More's Richard III: Moral Narration and Humanist Method," Ren&Ref ns 7 (1983): 157-82, rpt. in Language and the Discovery of Method in the English Renaissance, (London: Macmillan, 1985), 19-47, 160-67; A. D. Hall, "Early Tudor Prose and Civil History in Thomas More's History of King Richard III," Ceremony and Civility in English Renaissance Prose (University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State UP, 1991), 53-100, esp. 88-100; J. Jones, Thomas More (Boston: Twayne Publishers, 1979), 46-59. See also my discussion in the next chapter of the role of Narrator More at the beginning of Book I of Utopia, where More as author shows a comparable sophistication in narrative technique. For the rhetoric of More's Richard III as inverted panegyric or vituperation of Richard, see E. S. Donno, "Thomas More and Richard III," RenQ 35 (1982): 401-47; and R. E. Reiter, "On the Genre of Thomas More's Richard III," Moreana 25 (1970): 5-16. 41. Edward, Prince of Wales, is often known as Edward V, and was recognised as such in the later English monarchs, although, because of Richard's successfull usurpation, Edward was never formally crowned. More never refers to him explicitly by this title in his HistorylHistoria, but does acknowledge him as king: "the young king and his tender brother" (CW 2, 82/18-19). Richard, Duke of York, was, together with Edward V, the grandson of the other already previously mentioned Richard, Duke of York. 42. This dichotomy between the somewhat idealised portrait of the dead Edward IV, and the portrayal right from the outset of Richard III as a villain, is partially undermined by Buckingham's The History of Richard III / 74 later description of the the darker, more predatory aspects of Edward IV's reign (CW 2, 69-74; CW 15, 454-68), though Buckingham is himself a partisan source. 43. The Arundel MS adds here "et pariter ipsi [and you yourselves also]" (CW 15, cxl-cxli) which makes the point even more explicit (cf. the English version already quoted). 44. Verum si vos in pueri regno discordia occupet / multi nimirum yin boni atque egregij videntur ante perituri / nec Principe interim tuto et vobis ipsis imprimis periculo obnoxijs / quam populus intestina semel seditione seuiens in pacem rursus et concordiam redeat. 45. Cf. Polydore Vergil's "apt both to counterfayt and dissemble" (Anglica historica, 227), and Mancini's "ad dissimulandum aptior erat" ["being better at concealing his thoughts"] (Usurpatio, 62/10). 46. Personam quamlibet induere gerereque et tueri gnauiter / hylarem / seueram / grauem / remissam / prout sumere aut ponere suasit commodum. In vultu modestia / in animo fastus impotens / ingens / immanis / verbis adblandiens his quos intus impense oderat / nec eorum abstinens complexibus quos destinabat occidere. 47. ... complicatis digitis suam suorumque fortunam complorantem. 48. Huic orationi nobiles fere quotquot aderant suffragabantur. 49. See CW 15, cxxxviii, n.1. 50. For More's treatment of sanctuary, see W. M. Gordon, "The Religious Edifice and its Symbolism in the Writings of Erasmus, Colet, and More," Moreana 87/88 (1985): 15-23; for background, see P. I. Kaufman, "Henry VII and Sanctuary," Church History 53 (1984): 465-76, and I. D. Thornley, "The Destruction of Sanctuary," Tudor Studies Presented... to Albert Frederick Pollard, ed. R. W. Seton-Watson (London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1924), 182-207. 51. Ego certe hunt asylorum verum ac natiuum vsum esse semper sum arbitratus / vt eorum corpora tuerentur quos alioquin maneret malum turn magnum turn imprimis meritum. / Nam vt declinetur immeritum / non est cur implores peculiare cuiusuis loci priuilegium. 52. Ceterum verbis ante visum est quam vi experiendum. 53. Not "further" as glossed by Sylvester (CW 2, 283). See A. Hanham, Richard III and His Early Historians, 214-15 and G. Marc'hadour, Anglia 86 (1968): 214; cf. CW 2, 203, note to 37/12, and CW 15, 384/24-27. See also OED, "Feared," 2, which gives as an example More's "A Mery Gest, lines 349-51: "Yet was this man, well fearder than, lest he the frier had slaine." 54. This is the first of three insertions, where More's nephew William Rastell included a translation of material taken from the Latin version. Each insertion is marked with a and a 'f", and each with the gloss: "This that is here betwene this marke, S and this marke * was not written by M. More in this history written by him in englishe but is translated oute of this history which he wrote in laten" (CW 2, gloss, 39/6-12). 55. Ad hec periculo didicimus quam facile cognationis adfectum omnem execranda regni sitis obimbibet: frater fratrem amolitur / sobolesque per ipsum parentis corpus proruit ad imperium / et nepos de patruo securus est? 56. Simul os admouit on / truce eum lustrata auertit sese / lachrimansque a plorante dicessit. 57. "0 dissimulation" (C147 2, 42/17) reads the gloss of the 1557 edition at this point. The History of Richard III / 75 58. Adductum Protector amplexus atque in vinas e terra subuehans / "aduenisti / charissime nepos" inquit "ac domine / gratus nimirum omnibus / mihi longe profecto gratissimus." See also G. Marc'hadour, Anglia 86 (1968): 213. 59. Rastell translated this passage and inserted it in the 1557 edition, cf. CW 2, 42/24-44/18. 60. See Mancini's account: Usurpatio, 74/6-12 and n.43. 61. ... per homines astutos et tractandarum rerum artifices rem insinuat. 62. Talia suggerendo fatigatum Ducis animum eo perpulere vti qua iam ingressum [via] penitebat / eadem pergeret / et quando semel ceperat^gnauiter vsque insisteret. Itaque scelestissimo consilio / quod depelli non posse credebat / fautorem sese sociumque adiunxit / malumque publicum statuit / quando nequiret corrigi / quam maxime posset in suum bonum vertere. 63. Richard III, III. iv. 31-34,46-47. 64. "Pater" inquit "fragra tibi in hortis audio insignia mitescere. Non grauatim scio ferculum vnum tot nobilibus in prandium velut symbolum tuum conferes." "Vtinam" inquit ille "maius aliquid tam facile possim quam hoc libenter faciam" simulque ministrum qui adferret emittit. 65. See CW 2, 277, notes to 47/6-7 and 47/9, and L. J. Ross, "The Meaning of Strawberries in Shakespeare," Studies in the Renaissance 7 (1960): 225-40, and J. Dover Wilson, "A Note on Richard III: The Bishop of Ely's Strawberries," MLR 52 (1957): 563-64. 66. "`Videbitis' inquit 'vt hec scelesta mihi cum vxore Shori atque alijs prestigiatricibus fascinatum corpus magicis veneficijs exhauserit.' Simul subducta in cubitum manica brachium profert / admodum haud dubie miserum / sed quale tamen ab initio fuerat. Turn vero merito preter conscios cuncti pauescere / reputantes occasionem tantum rixae primum, deinde cedis apertae captari./ Nam brachium illud miserum probe nouerant." For Richard's deformities see the section Richard III: The Deformity of Richard III in the Bibliographical Appendix. 67. Igitur iam Hastyngus amicae commemoratione perculsus (nam earn deamare ferebatur) 68. Sed Hastyngum Protector iussit ad mortem vt se accingeret ac si quid cum sacerdote vellet / adproperaret / "Nam ita Diuum" inquit "Paulum / cui peculiariter seruio / propitium habeam / vt non ante cibi quicquam gustabo quam tibi caput amputatum videam." 69. ... videlicet homo pius ne peieraret. 70. Sed quiduis quam humanae mentis vanissimam et exitio iam contiguam securitatem preterierim. 71. Hastyngum repente confectum / ipsi viuo sic lancinatum caput vt sanguinis vbertim in sinus efflueret.... 72. "Haud satis commode diuisa sunt temporibus / Daue / hec tibi" inquit. 73. More's portrait of Mistress Shore took on a life of its own, apart from Richard III, and inspired numerous ballads and plays, see the section in the Bibliographical Appendix: Richard III: Shore's Wife and Later Influence. 74. Pinkerus in medio orationis cursu destitutus voce descendit / auditorio rem in superos referente velut sacrilegae palpationis vltores. Shaus omnem honesti famam perdidit haud multo post et vitam tedio solitudinis in quam sese pudore publici conspectus abdiderat / at frater The History of Richard III / 76 perfrictissimae frontis vt e qua sepe inter disputandum sputa deterserat / olim ad infamiam obtorpuerat. 75. The Latin version explains the function of the Recorder as follows: "Appellant recordatorem Londinenses ibi eum qui prefecti assessor est / eruditus patrijs legibus / ne quid in reddendis iudicijs imperitia peccetur [The Londoners use the title 'recorder' for a mayoral assistant well trained in the laws of his country who prevents any erroneous judgments from being given through ignorance of the law]" (CW 15, 470/7-9). 76. Sed nihilo secius durabat idem populi status / non aliter quam sileri concubia nocte solet obticentis / vultuque adeo immobili / nullo vt signo prorsus vllum animi sui sensum pre se ferrent. At Dux / nonnihil offensus quod eius orationem tam aduersis auribus animisque excepissent / auersus in prefectum "Querant" inquit "isti qui ferat silentium istud tam contumax..." 77. Certe quod ad me attinet / quanquam alium neminem esse scio cui regnum hereditate iure debeatur / pluris tamen has voluntates vestras quam omnes leges / quarum vis omnis a vobis pendet / existimo: quorum quoniam tam solidum in me consensum perspicio / ne vel parum fortis videar in capescenda republica vel vestram in me beneuolentiam non agnoscere / en hic in me hodierno die moderamen vtriusque regni Angliae Galliaeque suscipio / alterum vt tuear atque inaugeam / alterum vt illi subijciam atque in ditionem vestram audiens esse quibus parere debet redigam: nempe administrationem eorum duntaxat meam duco / ius vero fructumque ac proprietatem vtriusque omnem vestrum haud dubie publicam. Quem ego animum quo die habere desiero / eo die precor vt superi mihi non regnum hoc vestrum modo / quod improbe conarer auertere / sed vitam quoque ipsam / vt indignam quae retineatur / eripiant. 78. See Sylvester's notes in CW 2, 261-66, notes to 82/18 and following. 79. Grafton also rearranged the order of this passage in the Hardyng/Halle versions, moving it from here and inserting it in the introduction after the death of Edward IV—see CW 2, xxv-xxvi. 80. For More's treatment of Cardinal Morton in Richard III and Utopia, see J. C. Davis, "More, Morton, and the Politics of Accommodation," JBS 9:2 (1970): 27-49. For background on Morton, see C. S. L. Davis, "Bishop John Morton, the Holy See, and the Accession of Henry VII," EHR 102 (1987): 2-31; and C. Harper-Bill, "The Familia, Administrators and Patronage of Archbishop Morton," JRH 10 (1978/79): 236-52, esp. pp. 247-48, and "Archbishop John Morton and the Province of Canterbury, 1486-1500," JEH 29 (1978): 1-21. 81. The fable is not found in any existing Aesop collection, see CW 2, 269, note to 93/1-2. More was fond of animal fables, and made use of them in several other of his English works, see especially the "Tale of Mother Maud" in the Dialogue of Comfort, Book II, Chap. 14, CW 12, 114-19. 82. See A. F. Pollard, Essential Articles, 430; and P. L. Rudnytsky, "More's History of King Richard III as Uncanny Text," Contending Kingdoms: Historical, Psychological, and Feminist Approaches to the Literature of Sixteenth-Century England and France, ed. M.-R. Logan and P. L. Rudnytsky (Detroit: Wayne State UP, 1991), 161-66. 3. THE DIALOGUE IN BOOK I OF UTOPIA 3.1. THE ARGUMENT OF THIS CHAPTER The Utopia is an extremely tantalizing, prismatic and elliptical work, that defies simplistic analysis either as a communist tract, a travel story, or a "utopian" pamphlet, even though it gave its name to a genre. The vast literature on Utopianism is largely irrelevant to my study. It is part of my contention that More never set out to create a new genre, and that More's "golden little book" has only superficial resemblances to the typical later exemplars of this genre, and that we seriously misread his text when we view it in the light of the later development and evolution of utopian literature. The work can far more profitably be analysed within the tradition of literary dialogue. The Utopia presents many problems for modern readers, not the least being the question of its structure. It is clear that certain literary conventions underlie the work, including the use of literary dialogue. Though it is true that More does not formally call the Utopia a dialogue, it does follow at least in part a dialogical structure. The dialectical tensions between Hythloday and Persona More are obvious in Book I, and, even though Hythloday is the sole speaker in Book II, the narrative of that book must be judged within the framework provided by the dialogue of Book I and the conclusion of Book II. The debate of Book I is not as peripheral to the narrative of Book II as many scholars make out. Hythloday in Book II often goes out of his way to contrast the customs of the Utopians and their neighbours with those of the European society castigated so strongly by him in Book I. However, in the study presented below I have chosen to deal only with Book I, and have very deliberately avoided commenting on Book II, partly because Book I has been relatively neglected by critics of Utopia, but mainly because my focus is on 'dialogue', and the dialogue in Utopia occurs in Book I. Though it is beyond the scope of this chapter even to begin to deal with Book II in any detail, I would like to very briefly point to the doubly hybrid-nature of 77 The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 78 Utopia, both in terms of formal structure and of genre. In terms of formal structure Utopia consists of a short "dialogue" in Book I), followed by a longer "oration" in Book II, both of which are in turn framed by a series of introductory letters, maps and commendatory verses (roughly twenty percent of the total text). In terms of genre and literary tradition, Utopia is partly a travel-romance and partly a tract of moral and political philosophy. The very complex interplay between the different literary forms and genres drawn on in the work, as with the History of Richard III, is partly responsible for the tremendous variety of critical responses to More's Utopia over the centuries. The Utopia remains for most readers extremely tantalizing and elusive. It is very difficult to pin the work down, and even when one does so it has a tendency to slip out of one's hands again. There have been many readers over the last five centuries who have tried to read Utopia as a straightforward program for creating an ideal commonwealth. However, the complex ironies of the work discourage such simple-minded, one-dimensional readings of the text. The humanist readers of the early editions were not taken in, since they all shared in the same rhetorical culture as the author, and clearly appreciated the multiple layers of the text. The Utopia was not aimed at a mass audience. Unfortunately, many later readers have lacked the humanistic breadth of its author and first readers, and have ended up debasing the work into a straightforward program. What happens when we take the work as a program is that we miss the element of "make-believe". The Utopia is more than just a jeu d'esprit but it does include a playful element. And yet for all that it is a profoundly serious work, a work meant to provoke thought and reflection. It is primarily important, I believe, for the questions it forces the reader to ask about himself and his own role in society. Is he an idealistic dreamer like Hythloday or does he take a more pragmatic attitude like Persona More or Peter Giles in Book I? The reader is asked to respond to the questions raised by the book. The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 79 In this study I do not claim to offer a definitive interpretation of the work, even of Book I, but rather by demonstrating the intricate, multi-layered structure of the work as a whole, and in particular of Book I, I intend to show conclusively More's extremely sophisticated practise of the "art of dialogue" in Utopia. 3.2. THE TEXTUAL HISTORY OF UTOPIA The first edition of Utopia was published in December 1516 by Thierry Martens of Louvain. A second edition was published the following year in August 1517 in Paris by Gilles de Gourmont. And a third edition was published in March of 1518 in Basel by John Froben. This edition was in turn reissued by Froben with some minor alterations in November of 1518. The only other edition published in More's lifetime appeared in Florence in July 1519. It follows the edition of March 1518 closely, except that it omits most of the prefatory material found in the 1518 edition. 1 The editors of the Yale edition dismiss it as having "no independent value" (CW 4, p.cxc). There were several other editions published in the late sixteenth and early seventeenth centuries, which all follow the readings of the November 1518 edition. The Yale editors chose the March 1518 edition as their base text, on the grounds that it was the last edition likely to contain authorial revisions. More entrusted the publication of Utopia to Erasmus, and to Peter Giles, a town councillor of the city of Antwerp, whom he visited while he was on a trade mission to the Low Countries in 1515, when he was composing Book II of the Utopia, and who also figures as a minor character in Book 1. 2 More also addressed the Prefatory Letter of the first edition to Giles, who was particularly involved with the publication of that edition since he also worked as a corrector or copy-editor for the press of Thierry Martens. There have been at least six modern editions of the Latin text of the Utopia. The first was that of J. H. Lupton in 1895, who published the Latin of the March 1518 edition, together with Ralph Robinson's 1551 English translation. 3 His edition has been criticised for The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 80 paying rather more attention to the English of Robinson's translation than to the original text (cf. CW 4, cxci). For some strange reason Lupton chose to print the English translation at the top of the page with the Latin text underneath it in smaller type, and with the footnotes placed beneath the Latin text in even smaller type, thus making the original text rather difficult to read. In the same year, another edition of the Latin was published in Berlin by Victor Michels and Theobald Ziegler. 4 Michels and Ziegler used the 1516 edition as their base text, but gave variants from other editions, including March 1518. In 1910 a third Latin edition, a reprint of the 1516 text, was published by George Sampson and A. Guthkelch as an appendix to their edition of Ralph Robinson's revised 1556 translation. 5 A fourth critical edition, based on the first three editions, was published by Marie Delcourt in 1936 in Paris. 6 The editions of Lupton and Delcourt were superseded by the edition of E. Surtz and J. H. Hexter, which appeared as Volume 4 of the Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More in 1965, which quickly became the standard critical edition cited by most recent More scholars. The Yale Edition used the March 1518 edition as its copytext, printing the significant variants from the other editions in the critical apparatus. A. E. Barker in his review of the Yale Edition criticised this choice on the grounds that "the evidence for believing that More had any hand at all in the Froben text of 1518 is in fact very weak." 7 However, since both More and Erasmus expressed dissatisfaction with the editions of 1516 and 1517, both of which had numerous printing errors, it seems most reasonable to accept the decision of the Yale editors to use the first 1518 edition, which was rather carefully printed, as copytext. Barker argues that "there is thus no convincing collateral evidence for regarding the 1518 text as having any special authorial [More], as distinct from editorial [Erasmus and Giles], weight." 8 But his arguments are not convincing: More clearly entrusted the work of editing and publishing the Utopia to Erasmus and Giles, The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 81 though Giles's contribution was limited to the first edition. The sixth modern edition of the Latin text was published by A. Prevost in 1978. It consists of a facsimile reproduction of the November 1518 edition, together with a modern French translation, and a very extensive commentary, that seems to focus mainly on philosophical and theological issues. 9 The first English translation was not published until 1551 (revised 1556) almost twenty years after More's death, by Ralph Robinson. It was so popular that it became a minor English classic in its own right. Robinson omitted all the prefatory material of the early editions, except More's Letter to Giles. As a translation, it was once highly regarded, but in recent years a number of good modern translations of More's Latin text have appeared. The Yale editors revised one of these modern translations, made by G. C. Richards, 10 for inclusion in their edition. While Richards' translation, as revised by Edward Surtz, is a definite improvement over Ralph Robinson's, it was seriously criticised when the Yale edition was first published. 11 3.3. GENRE AND STRUCTURE Like almost every other feature of More's "golden little book," the genre of More's Utopia is problematic. In terms of formal structure the Utopia is a hybrid work—part literary dialogue and part oration or dramatic monologue. The work is divided into two books. The form of Book I is that of a Platonic dialogue on the all too real problems of government in contemporary sixteenth-century Europe, while that of Book II is that of an oratorical declamation on the ideal, imaginary republic of Utopia. I have adapted and modified Hexter's analysis of the composition of Utopia in the introduction to the Yale Edition (CW 4, xv-xxiii). Unlike Hexter, I distinguish at least four levels within the "body" of Utopia together with a fifth additional layer provided by the parerga, the garland of commendatory letters and verses added by Giles and Erasmus to the first three editions. The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 82 (See Figure 3.1 for an outline of the structure of Utopia—to be explained in the following paragraphs.) Book II is clearly structured as a formal oration, called by Hexter the "Discourse on Utopia" (CW 4, 110-236). Hythloday's panegyric or encomium of Utopia has many formal similarities to Erasmus's Praise of Folly with which it is often compared. Both are delivered by imaginary speakers, Folly and Hythloday, who show many signs of being unreliable narrators or orators, and both are given in praise of apparently absurd and nonsensical things. However, under the mask of the absurd (Hythloday) and the comic (Folly), both texts conceal a profound wisdom and insight into human affairs. This comic mask, represented by Folly and Hythloday, allows both authors to criticise the evils of their society and also perhaps to suggest possible solutions, though it would be a serious mistake to take either text as a program for action. However, the oration of Book II is preceded by the dialogue of Book I, called by Hexter the "Dialogue of Counsel" (54-108), in which More introduces both himself (Persona More) and Peter Giles, together with Raphael Hythloday, as characters. 13 The dialogue in Book I and the concluding peroration, the "Sermon on Pride" (236-44), given at the end of Book II, provide a contextual frame for the "Discourse on Utopia" in Book II. The "Dialogue of Counsel" in Book I focuses on the evils of European society, and deals with the central question, very pertinent to the situation of More the man at the time of writing Utopia, as to whether humanists should become involved with royal politics or rather seek the life of scholarly retirement, whether in Utopia or elsewhere. The "Dialogue of Counsel" also contains a dialogue-within-a-dialogue, the "Cardinal Morton Episode" (58-84), which is narrated by Hythloday and in which Hythloday is himself a speaker. Just as there is a dialectical exchange in Book I between More and Hythloday on "The Best State of a Commonwealth," there is also a dialectical comparison set up between the The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 83 Author More^Narrator More^Persona More, Giles and Persona Hythloday Narrator Hythloday Prefatory Letter to Giles (38-44) Book I Introduction (46-54) Beginning of Dialogue of Counsel (54-58) Cardinal Morton Episode (58-84) Dialogue of Counsel (84-108) Book II Discourse on Utopia (110-236) Sermon on Pride (236-44) (Persona Hythloday) Conclusion (244-46) Second Letter to Giles (248-52) (1517 only) Figure 3.1. The Structure of Utopia European world of Book I, and the Utopian World of Book II. Sometimes, the comparison is made explicitly by Hythloday, and at other times only implicitly, though it is at times made explicit in the marginal comments. The "Dialogue of Counsel," "Discourse on Utopia," and the "Sermon on Pride" are further framed by an introduction at the beginning of Book I (46-54), and a conclusion at the end of Book II (244-46), to which More added the "Prefatory Letter to Giles" (38-44), and in the 1517 edition a postscript or epilogue in the form of a second letter to Giles (248-52), which, however, was omitted from all later editions. 14 I distinguish the voice, Narrator More, that speaks at the beginning of Book I (and also possibly at the end of Book II), from that of the first person voice of character or persona More in the "Dialogue of Counsel." I think a strong case can also be made for distinguishing both of these voices from The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 84 the also semi-fictional "authorial" voice, of the Prefatory Letter to Giles and the postscript to the 1517 edition, who is in turn the subject of much of the conversation of the prefatory letters (see next section), added by Erasmus and Peter Giles to the early editions. Somewhere behind all this is also lurking More-the-Author, who is not to be identified with any of these three voices or the voice of Hythloday for that matter, and who in some sense will forever remain elusive and impossible to pin down. Utopia criticism has often been bedevilled in the past by the failure adequately to distinguish between the narrator and speaker in the "Dialogue of Counsel" in Book I, who is identified by the name "More," from the real, historical author who wrote Utopia. I will use `Persona More,' for the speaker in the dialogue of Book I, 'Narrator More' for the voice that speaks at the beginning of Book I (and at the end of Book II), 'Author More' for the semi-fictional voice that speaks in the two letters to Giles (and the subject of much of the discussion in the rest of the parerga) and 'More' for the author of the work, Sir Thomas More. In the discussion that follows I intend, after briefly dealing with the significance of the prefatory letters, to analyse the structure of Book I, and to attempt to elucidate the function of the "Dialogue of Counsel." I will pay especially close attention to the opening of Book I (and the conclusion of Book II), because I think that the rapid movement from one level of narrative or discourse to another, causes special problems in interpreting Book I of Utopia. 3.4. THE PREFATORY LETTERS At More's own request, various commendatory letters and verses were solicited by Peter Giles and Erasmus from the leading humanists of Northern Europe. 15 While the exact number of letters varies from edition to edition, they clearly serve as yet another interpretive frame to the text of Utopia itself. In addition, a number of commendatory verses, some by fictional characters, together with a map and various marginal comments, were added to the text of the first edition. Unfortunately, until the publication of the Yale The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 85 edition of Utopia in 1965, almost all the modern editions of Utopia omitted the parerga or prefatory materials. The Yale Edition reproduces a composite of all of the prefatory material of the early editions. However, the order of the parerga of the Yale Edition does not correspond exactly to that of any of the early editions. The contents of the parerga of the first three editions (1516, 1517 and March 1518) are given in comparison with the Yale Edition in Figure 3.2. 16 A number of these prefatory letters, including More's own "Prefatory Letter," extend the fiction of More's account in Book I and II of Utopia, by referring to Utopia as a real place and Raphael Hythloday, the narrator of Book II, as a real person. It is clear that More intended the "Prefatory Letter to Giles" to serve as an introduction to the Utopia.' ? Certainly, Peter Giles treated it as such, since he added marginal comments to it, as well as to Books I and II, when preparing the first edition for Thierry Martens to publish. In addition, Giles was responsible for adding the Utopian alphabet, the Tetrastichon of Hythloday, the Hexastichon of Aemolius, the Letter to Busleyden, and probably the map as well (cf. CW 4, 22/17-21). All these additions help to perpetuate the fiction of the Utopia itself, and represent an important, though modest, contribution on Peter Giles's part. As far as we can guess, the idea of the fiction of Utopia grew out of a series of real conversations between More and Giles, and it is this debt that More seems to be acknowledging when he puts Giles into the account itself, admittedly as a minor character, in Book I. It is this device which allows More to continue the fiction of Utopia itself in the "Prefatory Letter to Giles," and allows Giles also to perpetuate it in his letter to Busleyden. More clearly entrusted the work of publication to Erasmus and Giles. In the prefatory letter, after maintaining for a while the pretence that he does not wish to have it published, More concludes by advising Giles: At any rate, my dear Peter, conduct with Hythlodaeus the business which I The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 86 1516 1. Title Page om. 2.1516 Map 3. Utopian Alphabet and Tetrastichon 4. Hexastichon Anemolii 1517 1. Title Page om. OM. om. 2. Hexastichon Anemolii March 1518 1. Title Page 2. Erasmus to Froben om. See no. 6 See no. 4 Yale Edition 1. Title Page (1) 2. Erasmus to Froben (2) See no. 4 See no. 6 See no. 7 om. 3. Bude to Lupset 3. Bude to Lupset 3. Bude to Lupset (4-14) See no. 2 om. om. 4.1516 Map (16) om. OM. See no. 5 5.1518 Map by Ambrosius Holbein (17) See no. 3 om. See no. 6 6. Utopian Alphabet and Tetrastichon (18) See no. 4 See no. 2 4. Hexastichon 7. Hexastichon Anemolii (20) Anemolii See no. 2 om. 5.1518 Map by Am- brosius Holbein See no. 5 See no. 3 OM. 6. Utopian Alphabet and Tetrastichon See no. 6 5. Giles to Busleyden 4. Giles to Busleyden 7. Giles to Busleyden 8. Giles to Busleyden (20-24) 6. Desmarais's letter 5. Desmarais's letter om. 9. Desmarais's letter and and poem and poem poem (26-28) 7. Poems of Gelden- hauer and Schrijver See no. 10 See no. 10 10. Poems of Geldenhauer and Schrijver (36) 8. Busleyden to More See no. 9 See no. 9 11. Busleyden to More (32-36) 9. More to Giles 6. More to Giles 8. More to Giles 12. More to Giles (38-44) 10. Books I & II 7. Books I & II 9. Books I & II 13. Books I & 11 (46-246) om. 8. More's Second Letter to Giles OM. 14. More's Second Letter to Giles (248-52) See no. 8 9. Busleyden to More 10. Busleyden to More See no. 11 See no. 7 10. Poems of Gelden- hauer and Schrijver 11. Poems of Gelden- hauer and Schrijver See no. 10 11. Errata 11. Marten's Device ^ 12. Gourmont's ^ 12. Froben's Device Device^and Colophon Figure 3.2. The Parerga to the Utopia The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 87 mentioned. Afterwards, I shall be fully free to take fresh counsel on the subject. However, since I have gone through the labor of writing, it is too late for me to be wise now. Therefore, provided it is done with the consent of Hythlodaeus, in the matter of publishing which remains I shall follow my friends' advice, and yours first and foremost. (CW 4, 44/21-26) 18 Certainly, the addition of the prefatory recommendations and poems had the approval of More himself. In 1516, More was relatively unknown; it was the Utopia itself, together with the commendatory letters, that really made More famous in the international humanist circles of Northern Europe. The contributors of the prefatory letters and verses, and the names mentioned in the Utopia itself, read like a roll-call of the most important humanists, and their patrons and printers, in Northern Europe in the early sixteenth century: Guillaume Bude, Jerome Busleyden, Jean Desmarais, Erasmus, John Froben, Thierry Martens, Peter Giles, Cornelius Grapheus, Thomas Lupset, Gerhard Noviomagius, Willibald Pirckheimer, Beatus Rhenanus, and Jean Le Sauvage. 19 Far from being an afterthought, the prefatory letters are an integral part of the final work. The effect of the second frame of the parerga is similar to that of Book I as a frame for Book II. In the round robin of prefatory letters to the Utopia, we in effect overhear a second dialogue between More and Giles, and their humanist friends. The focus of the conversation is Utopia and Hythloday, and to a lesser extent "Authorial More" (not to be confused with More-as-Author), and "Editor Giles" (also not to be confused with the real-life Giles, town councillor of Antwerp, and friend of More and Erasmus, and corrector at Thierry Marten's press). The end result of this garland of letters is to distance both the reader and the author from the fiction of the Utopia. The mixing of fact and fiction, and the elaborate claims to verisimilitude are not meant to confuse the educated reader; rather, he is in a sense being invited to participate in the dialogue itself, while at the same time being warned by the literary games of the prefatory letters not to confuse the world of Utopia with that of The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 88 everyday reality. The men who wrote these letters were neither abstract philosophers, nor academic literary scholars; rather, they were practical men of affairs like More himself, deeply involved in the legal, political, ecclesiastical and educational activities of their age. For them the study of literature was not separate from life. Those modern critics who treat the Utopia as being either only a work of fiction, or only a work of moral and political philosophy are certainly mistaken. As the title of the first edition of 1516 suggests, it was clearly meant to be taken as both: A truly golden, little book no less beneficial than entertaining, about the best state of a commonwealth, and about the new island of Utopia, by the most illustrious author Thomas More, citizen and undersheriff of the famous city of London, edited by M. Peter Giles of Antwerp, printed by Thierry Martens Alust, now for the first time most accurately published by the Presses of the University of Louvain. (CW 4, p.2, apparatus *) 20 As the prefatory letters emphasise, the reader is meant to accept the ambiguities of Utopia (whether it is fact or fiction, and whether it is meant to be taken seriously or only treated as a literary joke), as a reflection of the ambiguities of life itself. This, I take to be the meaning of the final comments of Narrator More at the end of Book II. After emphasizing the absurdity of Utopian society, Narrator More concludes: Meanwhile, though in other respects he is a man of the most undoubted learning as well as of the greatest knowledge of human affairs, I cannot agree with all that he said. But I readily admit that there are very many features in the Utopian commonwealth which it is easier for me to wish for in our countries than to have any hope of seeing realized. (CW 4, 244/30-246/2) 21 If there are elements of Utopia that are absurd, 22 it is, nonetheless, as Guillaume Bude puts it "a nursery of correct and useful institutions from which every man may introduce and adapt transplanted customs to his own city" (14/20-22). 23 This is part of the fundamental paradox of Utopia as a literary work, as recognised by More's immediate audience, that the The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 89 Utopia is both a work of fiction, on the one hand, and a serious work of political and moral philosophy, on the other. 3.5. THE STRUCTURE OF BOOK I Refining the model outlined previously in section 3.3, The structure of Book I of More's Utopia can be further subdivided, in a manner analogous to the History of Richard III, into seventeen subsections (see Figure 3.3), varying in length from half a page to four pages in the Latin, averaging about two pages each. 24 These sections, which have been arrived at empirically, mark natural breaks in the text and seem to correspond with what we know of More's habits of composition in the De tristitia and Richard 111. 25 In this chapter I provide an interpretive close reading/analysis of Book I of the Utopia that emphasizes the contributions made by the individual speakers—Persona More, Peter Giles and Raphael Hythloday— to the unfolding of the dialogue, and also points to the main divisions within the structure of the work. There is an enormous secondary literature on Utopia. I have cited almost four hundred items on Utopia alone in the Bibliographical Appendix—almost twenty-five percent of the total number of items. Of these, I would estimate that some eighty to eighty-five percent of the studies (ignoring the editions and translations cited) deal exclusively or almost exclusively with Book II, only about five percent with the parerga, and not more than about ten percent (mainly historical scholarship) deal mainly or exclusively with Book I. However, as far as I know, no one has yet attempted the kind of detailed basic analysis of Book I that I provide in this chapter. The brilliance of More's literary artistry in Book I has been seriously underestimated. Thomas More, as the author-contriver of the "dialogue" in Book I, is all the time manipulating the reader and setting him up. Despite its brevity, the basic structure of Book The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 90 I) Introductory Section (CW 4, pp. 46-54) 1.46/8-48/15 ^ Introduction: Narrator More describes the circumstances that led to his visiting Peter Giles in Antwerp 2.48/15-54/13 ^ Giles introduces More to Raphael Hythloday II) Beginning of the Dialogue of Counsel (CW 4, pp. 54-58) 1.54/13-58/14^Beginning of "The Dialogue of Counsel" III) The Cardinal Morton Episode (CW 2, pp. 58-84) 1.58/14-60/13 2.60/13-64/31 3.64/31-70/15 4.70/16-74/17 5.74/17-80/20 6.80/20-84/20 At the Table of Cardinal Morton Hythloday Argues with a Lawyer Denunciation of Enclosures Hythloday's Remedy for Thieves The Republic of the Polylerites (An Example) A Merry Dialogue Between a Friar and a Hanger-on IV) The Dialogue of Counsel Continued (CW 4, pp. 84-108) 1.84/20-86/22 ^ On the Platonic ideal of the Philosopher King 2.86/22-88/24 ^ At the Court of the King of France 3.88/24-90/22 ^ The Example of the Achorians 4.90/22-96/12 ^ Another Royal Court with Corrupt Councillors 5.96/12-31 ^ The Example of the Macarians 6.96/31-102/26 ^ Academic Versus Civic Philosophy 7.102/27-106/3 ^ The Example of the Utopians 8.106/3-108/31 ^ Conclusion to Book I V) The Concluding Sections of Book II (CW 4, pp. 236-246) 1.236/31-244/13^Hythloday's Sermon on Greed and Pride 2.244/13-246/2 ^ The `Retractation' or Conclusion to Book II Figure 3.3. The Episodic Structure of Book I of More's Utopia The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 91 I is actually more complex and multi-layered than that of Book II. The very compactness of Book I makes it easy to miss much of what is going on in the text. Although the textual material in each of the subsections described in Figure 3.3 is actually very coherently and even tightly organised, as with Richard 111, 26 the transitions from subsection to subsection are often very abrupt and even startling in their unexpectedness. (One thinks of the tectonic plates in a geographical fault: the individual plates are quite rigid, but slippage can easily occur between the plates.) The effect of the multi-layeredness of the text is somewhat analogous to opening a series of Russian dolls, all contained within one another. One can never be quite sure that one has got to the bottom of it. While the abrupt transitions from section to section within Book I are meant, I think, to dislocate and disorient the reader (as an exercise in "defamiliarization"), and to prepare him for the "topsy-turvy" world of the "new island of Utopia" in Book II. 3.6. ANALYSIS OF THE TEXT 3.6.1. The Introduction to Book I Book I of Utopia begins with a brief statement of the circumstances that led to More's visit to Antwerp, the nominal setting of Book I, in 1515: The most invincible King of England, Henry the Eighth of that name... had recently some matters of no slight import in dispute with Charles, the most serene Prince of Castile, and sent me to Flanders as a spokesman to discuss and settle them. I was a companion and associate to that incomparable man Cuthbert Tunstall... (CW 4 4618-14*) 27 In fact, More was only a minor member of the diplomatic mission which had been sent in May 1515 to the Low Countries to the court of Prince Charles of Burgundy, later crowned Holy Roman Emperor in 1519, to negotiate a new treaty governing the export of English wool and the sale of English cloth in Flanders. 28 Like many diplomatic missions the negotiations were inconclusive and dragged on: The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 92 Those appointed by the Prince to deal with us, all excellent men, met us at Bruges, as had been previously arranged... When after one or two meetings there were certain points on which we could not agree sufficiently, they bade farewell to us for some days and left for Brussels to seek an official pronouncement from the Prince. (CW 4, 46/20-22, 27-29''') 29 The negotiations broke off on 21st July, and More took no further part in them when they were later resumed. Finding himself with time on his hands More seems to have first gone to Tournai, to attend to some business on Erasmus's behalf and then to Antwerp, where he stayed until 22nd October when he was recalled to England. Narrator More continues: "Meanwhile, as my business led me, I made my way to Antwerp. While I stayed there, among those who visited me, none was more gracious than Peter Giles, a native of Antwerp" (46/29-48/3 1'). 30 Peter Giles had been a close friend of Erasmus's since 1504, and had been notified by him that More and Tunstall were coming to the Low Countries on diplomatic business. 31 Giles obviously went out of his way to make More feel at home. After a brief encomiastic character-sketch of Giles (48/3-10), the narrator concludes that Giles's delightful society and charming discourse "greatly alleviated my longing for England, and the desire to see again my home, wife and children to whom I was exceedingly anxious to get back, for I had then been more than four months away from home" (48/11-15*). 32 One day, the account continues, after attending mass at the church of Notre Dame in Antwerp, Narrator More saw Peter Giles talking to a sunburned stranger of advanced years whom he took for a sea-captain. When Peter Giles saw More, he came up to him and said that he was just going to introduce the stranger to him: "Do you see this man?" he said, pointing at once to the person I had seen him talking with. "I was on the point of taking him straight to you." "He would have been very welcome," I said, "for your sake." "No," he said, "for his own, if you knew him. There is no mortal alive today who can give you such an account of unknown peoples and lands, a subject about which I know you are always most greedy to hear." "Well, then," I said, "my guess was not a bad one. The moment I saw him, I was sure he was a ship's The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 93 captain." "But you are quite mistaken," he said, "for his sailing has not been like that of Palinurus but that of Ulysses or, rather, of Plato. (CW 4, 48/22-31*) 33 First appearances are always deceptive in Utopia, and the narrator's failure to recognise Hythloday's true nature, until it has been revealed by Giles, is a warning to the reader not to take too literally what is to follow in the author's work. The significance of the literary allusions made by Peter Giles would have been obvious to most of More's contemporaries, but seems to have been missed by many modern readers: Palinurus, the helmsman in Virgil's Aeneid, corresponds roughly, in Neo-Platonic terms, to the bodily or physical level of interpretation, Ulysses to the metaphorical or psychological level, and Plato to the philosophical or spiritual leve1. 34 Peter goes on to tell Narrator More that the stranger's name is Raphael Hythloday, 35 and that he is a Portuguese traveller who "being eager to see the world, joined Amerigo Vespucci and was his constant companion in the last three of those four voyages which are now universally read of" (50/4-6). 36 Ironically, the real, historical traveller Vespucci is being assimilated to the fictional pattern ("quae passim iam leguntur") of Palinurus, Ulysses and Plato. Hythloday did not return with Vespucci, but was left with twenty-four companions in a fort at the furthest point reached by Vespucci (in what is now modern day Brazil). From there he travelled with five companions through many countries until he arrived in Ceylon, 37 and from there went to Calicut 38 (on the Malabar coast in South-West India). 39 After thanking Peter for introducing Raphael, he invites them both home for dinner: "After we had greeted each other and exchanged the civilities which commonly pass at the first meeting of strangers, we went off to my house. There in the garden, on a bench covered with tufts of grass, we sat down to talk together" (50/22-25). 40 Hythloday goes on to give a brief account of his travels (50/25-54/13). After leaving Vespucci's fort, Hythloday and his companions travelled partly on land by wagon and partly The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 94 on water by rafts, 41 until they reached lands containing very populous and well-ordered commonwealths. 42 Hythloday is vague about the locations of the places he travelled to. He obviously did not cross any great oceans like the Pacific. 43 He repeats the classical view that the torrid or equatorial regions are a barren wasteland, but describes the regions south of the equator as being inhabited by civilised peoples: But when you have gone a little farther, the country gradually assumes a milder aspect, the climate is less fierce, the ground is covered with a pleasant green herbage, and the nature of living creatures becomes less wild. At length you reach peoples, cities, and towns which maintain a continual traffic by sea and land not only with each other and their neighbors but also with far-off countries. (CW 4, 5217-12) 44 There they found that the natives used flat-bottomed boats, and had sails made of papyrus or leather. 45 Later, they found ships made in the western fashion. They earned the gratitude of the local inhabitants by teaching them the use of the compass. Narrator More at this point comments that they asked Hythloday eagerly for an account of those subjects: For on these subjects we eagerly inquired of him, and he no less readily discoursed; but about stale travelers' wonders we were not curious. Scyllas and greedy Celaenos and folk-devouring Laestrygones and similar frightful monsters are common enough, but well and wisely trained citizens are not everywhere to be found. (CW 4, 52/29-54/1). 46 This is a clear warning to the reader not to expect the kind of wondrous, legendary travel accounts that were so popular in late antiquity and the Middle Ages from the time of Pliny onwards. 47 Utopia is clearly located in the Southern hemisphere, and as such is an antipodean reflection of Europe, and especially of England, as is indicated at one point in Book II: "But in that new world, which is almost as far removed from ours by the equator as their life and character are different from ours..." (196/29-32). 48 Narrator More now casually mentions the Utopians for the first time: The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 95 To be sure, just as he called attention to many ill-advised customs among these new nations, so he rehearsed not a few points from which our own cities, nations, races, and kingdoms may take example for the correction of their errors. These instances, as I said, I must mention on another occasion. Now I intend to relate merely what he told us of the manners and customs of the Utopians, first, however, giving the talk which drew and led him on to mention that commonwealth. (CW 4, 5 4 I 1 -8) 49 The narrator mentions that Hythloday then touched on the faults of both hemispheres, and compared the wiser measures that were taken in each with the other. 50 From here on it looks as though Hythloday is going to launch into an account of the Utopians. However, what we get is not the description of Utopia, but the "Dialogue of Counsel"—More the author deliberately frustrates our expectations that Utopia will develop into a travel romance, and instead proceeds with a treatment in dialogic form of the problems of European politics, postponing the description of the Island of Utopia to Book II. 3.6.2. The Beginning of The 'Dialogue of Counsel' Peter Giles begins at the outset of the "Dialogue of Counsel" by raising the issue of royal service: Why, my dear Raphael, I wonder that you do not attach yourself to some king. I am sure there is none of them to whom you would not be very welcome because you are capable not only of entertaining a king with this learning and experience of men and places but also of furnishing him with examples and of assisting him with counsel. (CW 4, 54113 - 17) 51 Peter then suggests that by doing so, Hythloday will certainly further his own interests and those of his family. To which Hythloday retorts that he has already divided his property among his family, and sees no reason why he should enter into servitude to kings for their sake (cf. 54/24-27). Peter Giles protests that he meant service and not servitude. Hythloday responds cynically to this that servitude is only one syllable more than service. 52 Clearly, Hythloday rejects from the outset any crass material motives of self-advancement as being an inadequate basis for royal service. Peter Giles then suggests more noble, altruistic The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 96 motives: 'But my conviction is,' said Peter, 'whatever name you give to this mode of life, that it is the very way by which you can not only profit people both as private individuals and as members of the commonwealth but also render your own condition more prosperous' (54/29-32*). 53 Raphael does not fall for the bait and replies: " 'Should I,' said Raphael, 'make it more prosperous by a way which my soul abhors? As it is, I now live as I please, which I surely fancy is very seldom the case with your grand courtiers' (54/32-56/2). 54 Obviously, Raphael jealously guards his own freedom and independence. Narrator More now enters the debate, and becomes a persona in his own narrative. Persona More interjects: "Well," I then said, "it is plain that you, my dear Raphael, are desirous neither of riches nor of power. Assuredly, I reverence and look up to a man of your mind no whit less than to any of those who are most high and mighty. But it seems to me you will do what is worthy of you and of this generous and truly philosophic spirit of yours if you so order your life as to apply your talent and industry to the public interest, even if it involves some personal disadvantages to yourself. This you can never do with as great profit as if you are councilor to some great monarch and make him follow, as I am sure you will, straightforward and honorable courses. (CW 4, 56/4-11). 55 The discussion now moves to a more philosophical level, and remains there for the rest of Book I. Hythloday is not taken in by Persona More's flattery, and immediately launches into a condemnation of king's councillors and their vices, citing England as an example: "Such proud, ridiculous, and obstinate prejudices I have encountered often in other places and once in England too." "What," I said, "were you ever in our country?" "Yes," he said, "I spent several months there, not long after the disastrous end of the insurrection of western Englishmen [Cornishmen] against the king, which was put down with their pitiful slaughter. (CW 4, 58/13-18*) 56 The 'Cardinal Morton Episode' that follows (CW 4, 58-84), takes up almost half of Book I of Utopia, and adds another level to the dialogue that is already going on in Book I. In the The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 97 `Cardinal Morton Episode,' Hythloday, in turn, becomes the narrator of a 'dialogue-within-a- dialogue', as well as one of the personae in that dialogue. The account of the alleged visit of Hythloday to England is supposed to have taken place at the time of the Cornish Rebellion in 1497, during the reign of Henry VII, almost twenty years before. The double indirection of setting the 'dialogue-within-a-dialogue' back in the recent past, 57 and of having Hythloday report the conversation at Cardinal Morton's table to Persona More, obviously serves to detach and insulate More-as-Author even further from his artistic creation. Given the intensity of Hythloday's denunciation of the evils of European society that follows in the `Cardinal Morton Episode,' this may have been a precaution to protect the author from possible incrimination. 3.6.3. The Cardinal Morton Episode Narrator Hythloday begins by singing the praises of Cardinal Morton as the model statesman (cf. 58/18-60/5): He was a man, my dear Peter (for More knows about him and needs no information from me), who deserved respect as much for his prudence and virtue as for his authority. (CW 4, 58/20-22) 58 The conversation at Cardinal Morton's table starts with an English lawyer justifying the harsh justice meted out to thieves in which as many as twenty at a time are sent to a single gallows. 59 Hythloday, who now becomes a persona in his own reported dialogue, responds by condemning the death penalty as too harsh a punishment for theft (cf. 60/14-25). The Lawyer retorts that they should take up farming or manual crafts instead. Hythloday replies "'No,' I said, 'you shall not escape so easily" (60/27 '). 60 He goes on to cite the examples of those who come back crippled from the wars with France, and of the servants of nobility who are turned out on the streets to beg when their masters die, as examples of indigency. After a while no one wants to employ them, and they are forced to become The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 98 thieves. The lawyer retorts by defending the right of the nobility to keep many retainers: "But this," he said to us, "is just the sort of man we ought to encourage most. On them, being men of a loftier and nobler spirit than craftsmen and farmers, depend the strength and sinews of our army when we have to wage war." (CW 4, 62/20-23*) 61 Hythloday condemns the practice of keeping a standing army because the soldiers do more harm to their own people than the enemy does, and because an army of draftees does not fight any better than an army of craftsmen and farmers. Hythloday condemns the nobility for corrupting the strongest men: Consequently there is no danger that those attendants whose bodies, once strong and vigorous (for it is only the picked men that gentlemen deign to corrupt), are now either weakened by idleness or softened by almost womanish occupations, should become unmanned if trained to earn their living in honest trades and exercised in virile labours! (CW 4, 64/21-25) 62 Hythloday then enters (CW 4, 64-70) into a bitter denunciation of the policy of enclosing the land of peasant farmers for sheep grazing. English sheep, which are normally so tame, are now so wild "that they devour human beings themselves and devastate and depopulate fields, houses, and towns" (64/33-66/1). 63 Hythloday goes on to describe the terrible sufferings of those peasant families that were forced off the land by the policy of enclosures, and how out of desperation they were reduced to a life of beggary and theft. He concludes "what else, I ask, do you do but first create thieves and then become the very agents of their punishment" (70/11-12). 64 The denunciation is profoundly ironic in that the purpose of the diplomatic mission that led More to Bruges and Antwerp in the first place was to renegotiate the Wool Staple with Prince Charles of Burgundy (later the Hapsburg Emperor Charles V). Many have felt, I think quite rightly, that the intensity of Hythloday's denunciation reflects the feelings of the Author himself. All throughout his life, More seems to have been deeply concerned about the conditions of the poor and indigent. Even at the end of his life, in Books II and III of the The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 99 Dialogue of Comfort, he devoted considerable attention to the plight of beggars and servants. 65 After Hythloday has finished, the English lawyer then prepares to respond to Hythloday's denunciations of English society. However, Cardinal Morton interrupts him and tells him to hold his peace (cf. 70/22-28). Then he turns to Hythloday and asks him: But now I am eager to have you tell me, my dear Raphael, why you think that theft ought not to be punished with the extreme penalty, or what other penalty you yourself would fix, which would be more beneficial to the public. (CW 4, 70/28-72/1) 66 Hythloday begins his criticism of the English justice system by stating the fundamental principle of equity—that the punishment should fit or be proportional to the severity of the crime: Certainly,.., most reverend and kind Father, I think it altogether unjust that a man should suffer the loss of his life for the loss of someone's money. In my opinion, not all the goods that fortune can bestow on us can be set in the scale against a man's life. If they say that this penalty is attached to the offense against justice and the breaking of the laws, hardly to the money stolen, one may well characterize this extreme justice as extreme wrong. (CW 4, 72/6-11) 67 Hythloday points out to Cardinal Morton that God has forbidden us not only to kill a man but even to take our own lives, and yet we think nothing of executing a man for stealing some small change. Even the law of Moses only punished a thief with a fine not death. Hythloday then cites the example of the Romans, who sent convicts to the stone quarries and mines to punish them. Hythloday gives as an example of humane treatment of thieves, the Republic of the Polylerites, the first of several imaginary societies (culminating in the island of Utopia itself) described in Book I. Hythloday describes the Polylerites as follows: I can find no better system in any country than that which, in the course of my travels, I observed in Persia among the people commonly called the Polylerites, a nation that is large and well-governed and, except that it pays an annual tribute to the Persian padishah, otherwise free and The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 100 autonomous in its laws. They are far from the sea, almost ringed round by mountains, and satisfied with the products of their own land, which is in no way infertile. (CW 4, 74/18-26) 68 The location of the Republic of the Polylerites, roughly that of modern Kurdistan, seems to correspond also with that of the legendary biblical Garden of Eden, a popular "tourist spot" in many medieval travel romances, including Mandeville's Travels. Like the island of Utopia later on, though surrounded by mountains rather than the sea as in the case of Utopia, it is a more or less self-contained society with limited commerce with the outside world. The Polylerites punish theft by slavery, but their practice is more humane than that of the Romans or the Old Testament Jews. In the Republic of the Polylerites, thieves have to make restitution of stolen property to the original owners rather than to the state. They are then condemned to hard labour in public works. But apart from being locked up at night in their sleeping quarters they are not treated any more harshly than other workers. They have to wear special clothes and the tips of their ears are cut off as a mark of their servitude. They can be hired out as wage labour, but the money they earn goes into the public coffers. It is a crime punishable by death for a slave to carry money or arms or to escape to another district. (There are similar restrictions on movement in Utopia.) If the slaves conduct themselves in a responsible way they are eventually set free from slavery. When he has finished his speech, Hythloday suggests that the same method of dealing with thieves be adopted in England. The lawyer immediately attacks him: "Never could that system be established in England without involving the commonwealth in a very serious crisis" (80/4-5). 69 The others present agree. However, the Cardinal is more open-minded, and suggests provisionally trying out Hythloday's ideas: It is not easy to guess whether it would turn out well or ill inasmuch as absolutely no experiment has been made. If, after pronouncement of the sentence of death, the king were to order the postponement of its execution and, after limitation of the privileges of sanctuary, were to try this system, then, if success proved its usefulness, it would be right to make the system The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 101 law. In case of failure, then and there to put to death those previously condemned would be no less for the public good and no more unjust than if execution were done here and now. In the meantime no danger can come of the experiment. Futhermore, I am sure that vagrants might very well be treated in the same way for, in spite of repeated legislation against them, we have made no progress. (CW 4, 80/8-17) (13 After the Cardinal had finished, all those present praised the Cardinal's proposals even though they had previously condemned them when Hythloday had first suggested them. Hythloday next relates a comic interlude (80/20-84/20) that took place at Cardinal Morton's table, which the glossator describes as "A Merry Dialogue between a Friar and a Hanger-On [Festiuus dialogus fratris & morionis]" (80/23-24, gloss). On the surface, this episode seems to be irrelevant to the main theme of the Dialogue of Counsel, but it raises the important problem of vagrancy, which was closely linked to that of theft and beggary. After Cardinal Morton has finished speaking, one of the guests present comments: Raphael's proposal has made good provision for thieves. The Cardinal has taken precautions also for vagrants. It only remains now that public measures be devised for persons whom sickness or old age has brought to want and made unable to work for their living. (CW 4, 80/28-33) 71 A hanger-on at Cardinal Morton's table with pretensions at being a court jester, then replies: "Give me leave,... I shall see that this situation, too, be set right" (80/33-32/1). 72 The hanger-on recommends that beggars be distributed among the Benedictine monasteries, that the men be made lay-brothers and the women nuns. The Cardinal was amused by the jest but a certain theologian who was a friar piped in "not even so will you be rid of mendicants unless you make provision for us friars too" (82/16-17). 73 The hanger-on then jibes that the Cardinal has already made provision for mendicant friars when he determined that tramps be confined and made to work. A furious altercation then develops between the friar and the hanger-on which has to be brought to a stop by the Cardinal's personal intervention.74 The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 102 3.6.4. The 'Dialogue of Counsel' Proper After this episode Hythloday returns to the main frame of the 'Dialogue of Counsel,' by addressing Persona More as follows: Look, my dear More, with how lengthy a tale I have burdened you. I should have been quite ashamed to protract it if you had not eagerly called for it and seemed to listen as if you did not want any part of the conversation to be left out. Though I ought to have related this conversation more concisely, still I felt bound to tell it to exhibit the attitude of those who had rejected what I had said first yet who, immediately afterward, when the Cardinal did not disapprove of it, also gave their approval, flattering him so much that they even smiled on and almost allowed in earnest the fancies of the hanger-on, which his master in jest did not reject. From this reaction you may judge what little regard courtiers would pay to me and my advice. (CW 4, 84120-30) 75 Persona More evades Hythloday's criticism by telling him what a pleasure it was to hear of Cardinal Morton again in whose court he had been brought up as a lad. The somewhat idealised portrait of Cardinal Morton in Book I of Utopia is clearly meant as an example of the model statesman in action, 76 and the conversation quite naturally at this point turns to the Platonic doctrine of the Philosopher King, which becomes the focus of much of the remaining discussion of Book 1. 77 Persona More comments "Even now, nevertheless, I cannot change my mind but must needs think that, if you could persuade yourself not to shun the courts of kings, you could do the greatest good to the common weal by your advice" (86/7-9). 78 He goes on to cite "your favorite author" Plato's opinion that commonwealths can only be happy if philosophers become kings or kings philosophers "What a distant prospect of happiness there will be if philosophers will not condescend even to impart their counsel to kings!" (86/12-13). 79 Hythloday retorts that many philosophers have already given rulers good advice in published books only to have it rejected. He cites the example of the machiavellian machinations of the French king and of his court both in the Italian wars and in their relationships with the court of Burgundy and the kingdoms of Navarre and Castille. The The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 103 French even make peace with the English under false pretenses, while at the same time making deals with the Scots to attack the English (as happened in 1513) when their backs are turned. (It hardly needs to be pointed out that the same criticisms could have been made by Hythloday, were it politic to do so, of English policies under Henry VIII and Wolsey.) Hythloday concludes his diatribe against French policies by imagining what would happen if he were present at the French council: In such a meeting, I say, when such efforts are being made, when so many distinguished persons are vying with each other in proposals of a warlike nature, what if an insignificant fellow like myself were to get up and advise going on another tack? Suppose I expressed the opinion that Italy should be left alone. Suppose I argued that we should stay at home because the single kingdom of France by itself was almost too large to be governed well by a single man so that the king should not dream of adding other dominions under his sway. Suppose, then, I put before them the decisions made by the people called the Achorians who live on the mainland to the south-southeast of the island of Utopia. (CW 4, 88/19-26) 80 Hythloday then launches into a description of the Achorian customs. Significantly, the Achorians have roughly the same kind of geographical relationship to Utopia that France has to England. According to Hythloday, the Achorians had gone to war to win another kingdom that their king had laid claim to by virtue of an old marriage tie. (A thinly veiled reference to the French invasion of Italy in 1494, and also possibly to the earlier Hundred Years War between England and France.) However, after they had conquered it, they decided that it would cause so much trouble to keep it that they forced their king to choose which of the two kingdoms he wanted to keep. He reluctantly gave the kingdom to a friend who was driven out soon afterwards. Hythloday then asks Persona More to imagine what kind of response he would get if he made the same suggestions to the French king: "'What reception from my listeners, my dear More, do you think this speech of mine would find?' `To be sure, not a very favorable one,' I said" (90/21-22*). 81 He then pictures another imaginary council where the councillors are advising the king The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 104 on all sorts of nefarious schemes (in terms reminiscent of Henry VII) that could be used for squeezing money out of his subjects. One advisor recommends manipulating the value of currency so that it is worth more whenever the king has to pay a debt, and less whenever anyone has to pay him anything. Another suggests a make-believe war as a pretext for levying taxes (a practice common in England). A third advises reviving some old moth-eaten laws which have not been enforced for a long time, and fining everyone who has transgressed them. Another recommends punishing with heavy penalties actions that are contrary to the common good, and that the king only grant dispensations at a great price—in that way gaining both the esteem of the common people and also enriching the king both through the fines exacted and the dispensations given. All these abuses were widely practiced by European monarchs, including Henry VII (and Henry VIII). In fact as early as 1509, More had dared to criticise the fiscal policies of Henry VII in his coronation ode addressed to Henry VIII. 82 Hythloday next describes various perversions of justice in this imaginary kingdom. Another councillor advises that the king bind the judges to himself and insist that they always judge in his favour, and that important judicial matters should always be debated in the king's presence (as happened on more than one occasion during the reign of Henry VIII.) 83 Then, in terms that 'prophetically' anticipate the intimidation of both judges and jury by Cromwell and Henry VIII himself in the case of More's own trial, Hythloday goes on to describe how the judges can be won over: There will be no cause of his [the king's] so patently unjust in which one of them will not, either from a desire to contradict or from shame at repeating another's view or to curry favor, find some loophole whereby the law can be perverted. When through the opposite opinions of the judges a thing in itself as clear as daylight has been made a subject of debate, and when truth has become a matter of doubt, the king is opportunely furnished a handle to interpret the law in his own interest. Everyone else will acquiesce from shame or from fear. Afterwards the decision is boldly pronounced from the Bench. Then, too, a pretext can never be wanting for deciding on the The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 105 king's side. For such a judge it is enough that either equity be on his side or the letter of the law or the twisted meaning of the written word or, what finally outweighs all law with conscientious judges, the indisputable royal prerogative! (CW 4, 92118- 30) 84 The councillors further advise that the king grind down the common people with poverty to break their spirits and make them less likely to rebel. Hythloday then asks Persona More to imagine what would happen if he, Hythloday, himself were present at the council. Hythloday imagines himself getting up and condemning all the above-mentioned counsels as dishonorable and dangerous. He insists that the people choose a king for their own sake, and not his, and that "it belongs to the king to take more care for the welfare of his people than for his own, just as it is the duty of a shepherd, insofar as he is a shepherd, to feed his sheep rather than himself" (94/13-16). 85 The poverty of the people is not a safeguard for peace: nowhere do you find more quarreling than among beggars. The true dignity of a king comes from exercising authority over prosperous and happy subjects. In terms that anticipate the discussion of the World as a prison in the Dialogue of Comfort, 86 Hythloday asserts that for a single person to enjoy a life of pleasure and self-indulgence amid the groans of his subjects is to be the keeper, not of a kingdom, but of a jail. The king should live on the resources of his own estates and adjust his expenses to his revenues. He should punish criminals rather than finding out all sorts of legal trickery to tax his subjects. Hythloday cites the example of the Macarians, a people who live quite close to Utopia. Their king has to take an oath on assuming office that he will keep in his treasury no more than a thousand pounds of gold. This amount is enough to put down rebellions and to meet hostile invasions, but it is not large enough to tempt the king to seize the property of others. The law also forestalls any shortages of coinage supply needed for daily commerce. Hythloday concludes by asking Persona More to imagine the response his proposals are The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 106 likely to get: "To sum it all up, if I tried to obtrude these and like ideas on men strongly inclined to the opposite way of thinking, to what deaf ears should I tell the tale!" (96/29-31). 87 Persona More replies: Deaf indeed, without doubt,... and, by heaven, I am not surprised. Neither, to tell the truth, do I think that such ideas should be thrust on people, or such advice given, as you are positive will never be listened to. What good could such novel ideas do, or how could they enter the minds of individuals who are already taken up and possessed by the opposite conviction? In the private conversation of close friends this academic philosophy is not without its charm, but in the councils of kings, where great matters are debated with great authority, there is no room for these notions. (CW 4, 96/31-98/8) 88 This is a crucial point in Book I. Persona More is pointing to the fatal weakness in Hythloday's whole approach—that the message must be adapted to the audience and the situation at hand. This conflict between Ciceronian rhetoric and Platonic philosophy has received considerable attention from recent historical critics of Book I of More's Utopia. 89 Hythloday fails to see what Persona More is getting at, and replies: "That is just what I meant... by saying there is no room for philosophy with rulers" (98/8-9). 90 Persona More then drives the point home: Right... that is true—not for this academic philosophy which thinks that everything is suitable to every place. But there is another philosophy, more practical for statesmen, which knows its stage, adapts itself to the play in hand, and performs its role neatly and appropriately. This is the philosophy which you must employ. (CW 4, 98/9-14)' Persona More then criticizes the Platonic philosophical critique of society, adopting instead a Ciceronian humanistic position. He asserts that even if you cannot uproot wrong-headed opinions you should nevertheless not abandon the commonwealth. You cannot force new and strange ideas on people of contrary opinion. Instead, you should use the indirect approach and strive to handle these matters tactfully to the best of your power: "What you cannot turn to good you must at least make as little bad as you can. For it is impossible that all The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 107 should be well unless all men were good, a situation which I do not expect for a great many years to come!" (100/1-3). 92 Hythloday strongly rejects this position; he asserts that to follow Persona More's advice is to share the lunacy of others, not to cure it. He insists that he will speak the truth as he sees it no matter how unpleasant: Although that speech of mine might perhaps be unwelcome and disagreeable to those councilors, yet I cannot see why it should seem odd even to the point of folly. What if I told them the kind of things which Plato creates in his republic or which the Utopians actually put in practice in theirs? (CW 4, 100/7-10) 93 Hythloday then casually mentions one of the perennially fascinating aspects of Utopian society, that the Utopians, like the inhabitants of Plato's Republic, have all things in common. However, instead of going on immediately to describe Utopian society, he begins by defending himself against Persona More's charges, "what did my speech... contain that would not be appropriate or obligatory to have propounded everywhere" (100/12-13, 16-17), 94 and then launches into a diatribe against European political morality. If everything that seemed odd to the corrupted morals of men were to be criticised, then we would have to reject almost all of Christ's teachings. Yet he commanded that his teachings be preached openly for all men to hear. Christian preachers, however, are very good at adjusting the teachings of Christ to fit the morals of men. Hythloday goes on to condemn Persona More's "indirect approach": At court there is no room for dissembling, nor may one shut one's eyes to things. One must openly approve the worst counsels and subscribe to the most ruinous decrees. He would be counted a spy and almost a traitor, who gives only faint praise to evil counsels. Moreover, there is no chance for you to do any good because you are brought among colleagues who would easily corrupt even the best of men before being reformed themselves. By their evil companionship, either you will be seduced yourself or, keeping your own integrity and innocence, you will be made a screen for the wickedness and folly of others. (CW 4 10214-12) 95 Plato advocated that philosophers abstain from administration of the commonwealth. The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 108 Hythloday condemns the ownership of private property: "it appears to me that wherever you have private property and all men measure all things by cash values, there it is scarcely possible for a commonwealth to have justice or prosperity" (102/21-23). 96 Contrast with this the wise and holy institutions of the Utopians where all goods are distributed equally and yet there is an abundance of all things. He goes on to praise Plato's advocacy of communism. Where there is private property, most of the wealth is shared by a small group of people, while the rest live in poverty. The rich are parasites. The poor live simple, well-behaved and industrious lives, while the rich are greedy, unscrupulous and useless. Hythloday- condemns half-measures aimed at controlling the concentration of wealth or limiting the power of kings, and instead advocates communism as the cure: "There is no hope, however, of a cure and a return to a healthy condition as long as each individual is master of his own property" (104/31-32). 97 Persona More rejects Hythloday's position: But... I am of the contrary opinion. Life cannot be satisfactory where all things are common. How can there be a sufficient supply of goods when each withdraws himself from the labor of production? For the individual does not have the motive of personal gain and he is rendered slothful by trusting to the industry of others. (CW 4, 10613- 7) 98 If there is complete equality then the authority of magistrates will be eliminated, and there will be no way to stop bloodshed and riot. Hythloday's response is once more to cite the example of the Utopians: "But you should have been with me in Utopia and personally seen their manners and customs as I did, for I lived there more than five years and would never have wished to leave except to make known that new world" (106/13-16). 99 At this point, Peter Giles, who has quietly been listening all along to the debate between Hythloday and Persona More, 100 bursts in: "Yet surely... it would be hard for you to convince me that a better-ordered people is to be found in that new world than in the one known to us" (106/18-20). 101 Hythloday counters by asserting the antiquity of Utopian society: "If we must believe them, there were cities among them before there were men The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 109 among us" (106/26-27). 102 And he claims that the Utopians have even had contact with the Romans and Egyptians. He cites an incident in which a ship, manned by Roman and Egyptian sailors had been shipwrecked on the coast of Utopia twelve hundred years beforehand. 1°3 The Utopians eagerly mastered everything the Romans and Egyptians had to teach them. By contrast the Europeans are incapable of learning from others: "And, just as they immediately at one meeting appropriated to themselves every good discovery of ours, so I suppose it will be long before we adopt anything that is better arranged with them than with us" (108/13-16). 104 Persona More then politely asks Raphael, not that Hythloday needs much of an invitation, to give a description of Utopian society: "Do not be brief, but set forth in order the terrain, the rivers, the cities, the inhabitants, the traditions, the customs, the laws, and in fact, everything which you think we should like to know" (108/20-23). 105 Hythloday expresses pleasure at the request but warns that it will take time to fulfill. Persona More then suggests they dine first. After dinner they go back into the garden again and take up the same seating and settle down to listen to Hythloday's narration. 3.6.5. The 'Sermon on Pride' and the Conclusion to Book II Hythloday's extended 'Discourse on Utopia' in Book II (CW 4, 110-236) can be seen within the framework of the dialogue of Book I as one more, albeit enormous, extremely prolonged exemplum, analogous to the previous brief descriptions of the Polylerites, Achorians and Macarians in Book I. 106 The concluding sections of Book II (CW 4, 236-46) can also be interpreted, not only as providing the peroration to the 'Discourse on Utopia', but also as serving as a continuation and conclusion to the dialogue of Book I. The scholarly commentary on Book II of Utopia is enormous (see the appropriate sections of the Utopia Bibliography in the Appendix), in comparison with the limited amount of mainly historical scholarship on Book I. However, until recently very little attention has been paid to the The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 110 ending of Book II. 107 Whether Hythloday has proved his case by his extremely long (in comparison to the brevity of Book I) description of Utopian society, is left up to the individual reader to decide. It is clear from the 'Sermon on Greed and Pride' that forms the peroration to Book II that Hythloday certainly thinks he has. Hythloday concludes the 'Discourse on Utopia' proper, by reminding his audience (Persona More and Peter Giles) of the promise he had made at the end of Book I to describe Utopian society: "Now I have described to you, as exactly as I could, the structure of that commonwealth which I judge not merely the best but the only one which can rightly claim the name of a commonwealth" (236/31-34). 108 He goes on to assert that outside of Utopia there is no genuine concern for the public welfare, and that men are concerned with their private interests only. In Utopia, where nothing is private, the individual lacks nothing for his private use—the public granaries are full and everyone is rich. In other countries the individual has to worry about poverty and looking after his descendants and even arranging his daughter's dowry. There is not the slightest trace of justice or fairness. Noblemen, bankers and moneylenders grow rich from their idleness, while hardworking labourers and tradesmen lead such harsh and miserable lives, that even the condition of beasts of burden might seem preferable. The workers toil all day and earn barely enough to live on. In old age and sickness they are abandoned and left to die a miserable death. The rich further extort money from and exploit the poor in the most ruthless fashion, and then pervert the laws to palm their actions off as justice. Hythloday bitterly denounces the oppression of the poor by the rich: Consequently, when I consider and turn over in my mind the state of all commonwealths flourishing anywhere today, so help me God. I can see nothing else but a kind of conspiracy of the rich, who are aiming at their own interests under the name and title of the commonwealth. (CW 4, 240118-22) 1°9 Yet even after the rich have divided up the goods of the poor among themselves they are far The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 111 from the happiness of Utopian society. In Utopia greed has been abolished because the use of money has been done away with. Hythloday further claims that with the abolition of money a whole host of criminal activities has been rooted up: In Utopia all greed for money was entirely removed with the use of money. What a mass of troubles was then cut away! What a crop of crimes was then pulled up by the roots! Who does not know that fraud, theft, rapine, quarrels, disorders, brawls, seditions, murders, treasons, poisonings, which are avenged rather than restrained by daily executions, die out with the destruction of money? Who does not know that fear, anxiety, worries, toils, and sleepless nights will also perish at the same time as money? What is more, poverty, which money alone seemed to make poor, forthwith would itself dwindle and disappear if money were entirely done away with everywhere. (C1,17 4, 240/31-242/8) 110 He goes on to give as an example of the evils of money the fate of famine victims, and he claims that if during periods of famine in European society you had opened the granaries of rich men, you would have found enough grain to feed all the poor people who had been killed off by starvation and disease. Men everywhere would long ago have adopted the practice of the Utopians, either out of self-interest or even on the authority of Christ himself, "had not one single monster, the chief and progenitor of all plagues, striven against it—I mean, Pride" (242/24-26). 111 Pride is too deeply rooted in human nature to be easily eradicated. But, at least in Utopian society, they have been able to remove the causes of ambition and discord. There can be little doubt, given the intensity of Hythloday's denunciations of the depredations of the rich, comparable in many ways to the very strong language used to denounce enclosures in Book I, that this in part reflects the feelings of More himself as author—feelings that might have been too dangerous to express in propria persona. However, More as author would hardly have been naive enough to believe that the mere abolition of the use of money would have abolished the vice of Greed. In the end, Hythloday's final analysis of the evils of European society as being attributable to the The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 112 workings of Pride and Greed, two of the most important of the Seven Deadly Sins, seems strangely naive and inadequate. (This was probably deliberately done by More as author to partially undercut. Hythloday's own position.) Though More himself was later to give a fairly traditional treatment of the Seven Deadly Sins in The Four Last Things (1522), his own career as a public official showed an infinitely more subtle and sophisticated understanding of the roots of political corruption and of the evils in human society. The final conclusion of Utopia (244/13-246/2) is even more problematic than Hythloday's 'Sermon on Pride': When Raphael had finished his story, many things came to my mind which seemed very absurdly established in the customs and laws of the people described—not only in their method of waging war, their ceremonies and religion, as well as their other institutions, but most of all in that feature which is the principal foundation of their whole structure. I mean their common life and subsistence—without any exchange of money. This latter alone utterly overthrows all the nobility, magnificence, splendor, and majesty which are, in the estimation of the common people, the true glories and ornaments of the commonwealth. (CW 4, 244/13-21) 112 To begin with, while the voice, which I will call the 'Concluding Voice', clearly changes at this point, it is not exactly clear what level(s) within the text the voice is operating at: is it Persona More (the voice of the dialogue in Book I), Narrator More (the voice at the beginning of Book I), or even Authorial More (the voice of the Prefatory Letter and the subject, together with Hythloday, of much of the 'conversation' of the parerga), or perhaps, if, as I think, the ambiguity of levels in intentional, a combination of all three (cf. Figure 3.1)? Furthermore, the tone of the Concluding Voice is partially ironic, and as such, to use a modern jargon-word, partially 'deconstructs' itself. We know that More the author both in his later English works, such as the Dialogue of Comfort, and also in his personal life, through his many acts of charity, showed a deep and abiding concern for the plight and sufferings of the poor. The praise of "nobility, magnificence, splendor and majesty" is obviously heavily ironic if not openly sarcastic here (the same tone that one finds in the The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 113 `Postscript' or 'Second Letter to Giles' of the 1517 edition), as the "ut publica est opinio [as is the public opinion]" makes abundantly clear. And yet the repudiation of Hythloday's position by the Concluding Voice seems genuine enough. It is the same paradoxical tone that one finds in Chaucer's `Retractation' to The Canterbury Tales and in the conclusion to Troilus and Creseyde, though I think that More's `Retractation' to the Utopia is superior in its succinctness to the endings of either of Chaucer's great masterpieces. The Concluding Voice then goes on to express qualified praise of Hythloday's paradoxical encomium of Utopia. After first indicating that Hythloday would not tolerate any opposition to his views, the Concluding Voice goes on to praise the Utopians' way of life and Hythloday's speech, and invites Hythloday in to supper, suggesting they continue the conversation at some other occasion. The final paragraph (which has been quoted earlier) is deliberately open-ended, praising some aspects of Utopian society and rejecting others: Meanwhile, though in other respects he is a man of the most undoubted learning as well as of the greatest knowledge of human affairs, I cannot agree with all that he said. But I readily admit that there are very many features in the Utopian commonwealth which it is easier for me to wish for in our countries than to have any hope of seeing realized. (CW 4, 244/30-246/2) 21 The end result of all this is that the reader is left hanging, and we are no further ahead; the two voices are just as far apart, after Hythloday's paradoxical praise of the Utopian Commonwealth, as they were at the end of Book I. The deliberately literally open-ended nature of the conclusion forces the reader to take a position on the debate in Book I, and on the possibilities of Utopian society in Book II. Part of the perennial fascination of More's Utopia has been precisely the polyvalent and multi-layered nature of the work which has sparked such a tremendous variety of responses from readers across the centuries. In both Books I and II, we are left with a vision rather than a program—a vision both complex and enigmatic, profoundly serious and playfully ironic, at once passionately committed and yet The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 114 philosophically detached. 3.7. CONCLUSION Despite the brevity of Book I (thirty-two pages of Latin text in the Yale Edition, thirty-six pages if one also includes the ending of Book II), compared to the 'Discourse on Utopia' in Book II (CW 4, 110-236: sixty-four pages of Latin), the structure of Book I is in many ways more complex and problematic than that of Book II. Book II is divided into several sections within the text itself, some of which it is true cover more matters than the titles indicate. 113 Book I has no clear divisions. The only clues as to structure are supplied by the possibly-authorial marginal glosses. 114 The great danger for modern readers of Utopia is to quickly skip over the 'matter' of Book I, and plunge straightway into the 'Discourse on Utopia' in Book II. (Indeed, Book II of Utopia is often anthologised or excerpted by itself without Book I.) I hope I have shown from the preceding close reading/analysis that Book I is very carefully constructed and that whatever the order of composition of Utopia, Book I is clearly not an afterthought, as some critics like Hexter have argued, tacked on later after More had already composed Book II. While the main focus of this chapter has been to treat the structure of Book I of Utopia in isolation, it is clear that there are many places in the first Book, especially in the examples of various imaginary societies that Hythloday gives, that point forward to the matter of Book II. Similarly, though it lies beyond the scope of this chapter, a careful reading of Book II would undoubtedly reveal many places where the 'Discourse on Utopia' in Book II points back to the 'Dialogue of Counsel' in Book I, especially when Hythloday compares Utopian with European customs, usually to the disadvantage of the latter. The Utopia as it has come down to us is clearly a coherent whole. I think it would have been a much 'lesser' work if More had only published Book II by itself in some earlier `unrevised' The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 115 version. Book I does prepare the reader for the 'matter' of Book II, by raising all the crucial issues beforehand. In many ways it is a brilliant 'setup'. If it had been much longer, the author's intentions might have become too obvious. The reader is being set up. More's contemporary humanist audience recognised this, as all the in-jokes of the parerga clearly reveal. Because the matter of Book I was so intensely topical and relevant to the issues of the day, it is perhaps harder for modern readers to appreciate than Book II. However, More's first readers, as the prefatory letters—especially Bude's, recognised, could see in the debate between Hythloday and Persona More the fundamental crisis of contemporary humanism as to whether the new humanist learning could be used effectively to reform society. The matter of Book II was clearly for them a 'Utopian' dream—fit only for an after-dinner conversation. But the reality of the world that they had to confront was that of Book I (though Book I is at the same time itself a work of fiction). Not that Book II does not deal with fundamentally serious issues. However, neither More, nor his humanist contem- poraries, would have made the mistake of nineteenth- and twentieth-century 'utopian' socialists and communists of trying to build the kingdom of God on earth. Every attempt to do so has led to a totalitarian nightmare, and, as the demise of Russian communism has shown, perhaps it was an impossible dream all along. What remains, then, is a vision, rather than a program—a vision that will no doubt continue at once to tantalise and delight, to elude and frustrate its readers for many generations to come, irrespective of the fate of modern day communist regimes. The longing for 'Paradise', in one form or another, is too deeply planted in the human heart for it ever to be successfully rooted out. The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 116 NOTES 1. See Surtz's discussion of the various editions in Utopia, Vol. 4 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More (hereafter CW 4), ed. E. Surtz, and J. H. Hexter (New Haven: Yale UP, 1965), cxxv-cxciv. All citations of the Yale edition made by page and line number, even when quoting the English translation, refer to the Latin text, not to the translation, which unlike the translations in later volumes of the Yale Edition has separate line numbering. 2. Written after Book II, according to Erasmus in his 'Letter to Ulrich von Hutten' (1519): "Vtopiam hoc consilio aedidit, vt indicaret quibus rebus fiat vt minus commode habeant respublicae; sed Britannicam potissimum effinxit, quam habet penitus perspectam cognitamque. Secundum librum prius scripserat per ocium, mox per occasionem primum adiecit ex tempore. Atque hint nonnulla dictionis inaequalitas." Allen, #999, 4: 21/256-61. ["Utopia he published with the purpose of showing the reasons for the shortcomings of a commonwealth; but he represented the English commonwealth in particular, because he had studied it and knew it best. The second book he had written earlier, when at leisure; at a later opportunity he added the first in the heat of the moment. Hence there is a certain unevenness in the style." CWE 7: 23/279-24/284.] 3. The Utopia of Sir Thomas More (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1895). 4. Lateinische Litteraturdenkmdler des XV. and XVI Jahrhunderts, Vol. XI (Berlin: Weidmann, 1895); cf. CW 4, cxci. 5. Utopia (London: Bell, 1910); cf. CW 4, cxci. 6. L'Utopie ou le traite de la meilleure forme de gouvernement (Paris: E. Droz, 1936; rpt. Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1983); rev. by A. Prevost, "Une retrospective: Le facsimile de l'Utopie editee par Marie Delcourt," Moreana 85 (1985): 67-82. The reprint includes Delcourt's 1966 French translation. 7. "Clavis Moreana: The Yale Edition of Thomas More," JEGP 65 (1966): 318-30; rpt. in Essential Articles, 215-28, 616, esp., 219. 8. Essential Articles, 220. 9. L'Utopie de Thomas More: Presentation, Texte Original, Apparat Critique, Exegese, Traduction et Notes (Paris: Mame, 1978); rev. by J. Gury, Moreana 61 (1979): 13-18. 10. More's Utopia (Oxford: Blackwell, 1923); cf. CW 4, cxciii-cxciv. 11. See C. H. Miller, "The English Translation in the Yale Utopia: Some Corrections," Moreana 9 (1966): 57-64 and ELN 3 (1965/66): 303-09. For more reviews see Utopia: Reviews of the Yale Edition of Utopia in the Bibliographical Appendix. 12. In his discussion of the composition of Utopia (CW 4, xv-xxiii), Hexter makes much of Erasmus's casual remark in his letter to Ulrich von Hutten (quoted in n.2 above) that More composed Book I of Utopia after Book II. At least two of the reviewers of the Yale edition cast doubt on this, see C. H. Miller, ELN 3 (1965/66): 306-07 and M. Delcourt, Latomus 25 (1966): 305. Whether composed later or not, Book I is clearly not an afterthought. More could easily have had the idea for Book I in mind even as he he was composing Book II. He certainly had a good Platonic precedent for the structure of Utopia (a short 'dialogue' followed by a longer `oration'): namely, the Timaeus. 13. Peter Giles speaks only at the beginning (and at the very end) of the Dialogue of Counsel. I have chosen to signify the voice in the "Dialogue of Counsel" that is identified as The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 117 More's by the title "Persona More", one could just have easily identified it as "Character More", by analogy with Character Chaucer in the The Canterbury Tales. See A. Mortimer, "Hythlodaeus and Persona More: The Narrative Voices of Utopia," Cahiers Elisabethains 28 (1985): 25-26. It goes without saying that Persona More is as much a fictional character as is Character Chaucer. The closest comparison is, however, with More's own Dialogue Concerning Heresies, where there are two voices "quod I [I said]" and "quod he [he said]", which I have identified, in my chapter on this work, as "Chancellor More" and the "Messenger". Similarly, in the Latin of Book I of Utopia, the change in voices between Persona More and Hythloday is always signalised by "inquam" and "inquit" (with identical meaning to "quod I" and "quod he" respectively). Unfortunately, the Yale translation obscures this by varying the verbs used in the translation, see Germain Marc'hadour's criticisms of the Yale edition in "Here I Sit: Thomas More's Genius for Dialogue," Thomas More: Essays on the Icon, ed. D. Grace and B. Byron (Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1980), 16-17. 14. See CW 4, 569, note to 248/2 for possible reasons for this omission. 15. See Allen, #467, 2: 346/13-17 and #481, 2: 372/62-70. 16. The Yale edition also includes part of Beatus Rhenanus's prefatory letter to the edition of More's Epigrams (252), which was bound in the same volume as the November 1518 edition of Utopia. The order of the prefatory materials in the 1516-1518 editions is given in CW 4, clxxxiii-clxxxix. I have also consulted the Scolar Press facsimile of the 1516 edition (Leeds, England: Scolar P, 1966), and the microfilm of the 1518 edition. 17. See Allen, #461, 2: 389/1-3; CWE, 4: 66/2-4. For an extensive analysis of the "Pre- fatory Letter to Giles", see E. McCutcheon, My Dear Peter: The Ars Poetica and Hermeneutics for More's Utopia (Angers: Editions Moreana, 1983). 18. Sed tamen mi Petre to illud age quod dixi cum Hythlodaeo. postea tamen integrum erit hac de re consultare denuo. Quanquam si id ipsius uoluntate fiat: quandoquidem scribendi labore defunctus: nunc sero sapio: quod reliquum est de aedendo: sequar amicorum consilium: atque in primis tuum. 19. For biographies of the contributors, see P. R. Allen, "Utopia and European Humanism: the Function of the Prefatory Letters and Verse," SRen 10 (1963): 91-107; and Contemporaries of Erasmus: A Biographical Register of the Renaissance and Reformation, ed. P. G. Bietenholz and T. B. Beutscher, 3 vols. (Toronto, U of Toronto P, 1985-87). 20. Libellus vere aureus nec minus salutaris quam festiuus de optimo reipublicae statu, deque noua Insula Vtopia authore clarissimo viro Thoma Moro inclytae ciuitatis Londinensis ciue & vicecomite cura M. Petri Aegidii Antuerpiensis, & arte Theodorici Martini Alustensis, Typographi almae Louaniensium Academiae nunc primum accuratissime editus. (An asterisk (*) means that I have modified the translation quoted.) 21. Interea quemadmodum haud possum omnibus assentiri quae dicta sunt, alioqui ab homine citra controuersiam eruditissimo simul & rerum humanarum peritissimo, ita facile confiteor permulta esse in Vtopiensium republica, quae in nostris ciuitatibus optarim uerius, quam sperarim. 22. See More's "Second Letter to Giles," CW 4, 248/1-252/7. 23. elegantium, utiliumque institutorum seminarium, unde translatitios mores in suam quisque ciuitatem importent & accommodent. 24. See Chapter 2, n.35, most of which also applies to Utopia. The possibly authorial marginal glosses of the early editions have been of some help in making my analysis of the subdivisions. The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 118 25. See Chapter 2, n.35 above. 26. Book I of Utopia is roughly fourty percent the length of the Latin version of Richard III. In addition, the average length of the subsections is only two pages instead of three. This helps to make the effect of the transitions and twist and turns in the argument in Book I of Utopia even more intense and disorienting than in the History of Richard III. 27. "Quum non exigui momenti negocia quaedam inuictissimus Angliae Rex Henricus eius nominis octauus... cum serenissimo Castellae principe Carolo controuersa nuper habuisset, ad ea tractanda, componendaque, oratorem me legauit in Flandriam, comitem & collegam uiri incomparabilis Cuthberti Tunstalli..." Tunstall was a close friend of More and Erasmus and was head of the diplomatic mission. 28. See CW 4, 295, note to 46/8. The standard account of More's involvement in this embassy is by E. Surtz, "St. Thomas More and His Utopian Embassy of 1515," Catholic Historical Review 39 (1953): 272-93. This is greatly to be preferred to the highly tendentious account by J. H. Hexter, co-editor with Surtz of the Yale Edition, in CW 4, Appendix A: "More's Visit to Antwerp in 1515," 573-76. See Colin Starnes, Appendix: "On Hexter's account of More's Visit to Antwerp in 1515," in The New Republic: A Commentary on Book I of More's Utopia Showing its Relation to Plato's Republic (Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier UP, 1990), 109-11. 29. Occurrerunt nobis Brugis (sic enim conuenerat) hi, quibus a principe negocium demandabatur, egregij uiri omnes... ubi semel atque iterum congressi, quibusdam de rebus non satis consentiremus, illi in aliquot dies uale nobis ditto, Bruxellas profecti sunt, principis oraculum sciscitaturi. 30. Ego me interim (sic enim res ferebat) Antuerpiam confero. Ibi dum uersor, saepe me inter alios, sed quo non alius gratior, inuisit Petrus Aegidius Antuerpiae natus. 31. See CW 4, 299, note to 48/2-3. 32. patriae desyderium, ac laris domestici, uxoris, & liberorum, quorum studio reuisendorum nimis quam anxie tenebar (iam tum enim plus quatuor mensibus abfueram domo) magna ex parte mihi... leuauerit. 33. uides inquit hunc? (simul designabat eum cum quo loquentem uideram) eum inquit iam hint ad te recta parabam ducere. Venisset inquam pergratus mihi tua causa. Imo, inquit ille, si nosses hominem, sua. Nam nemo uiuit hodie mortalium omnium, qui tantam tibi hominum, terrarumque incognitarum narrare possit historiam. quarum rerum audiendarum scio auidissimum esse te. Ergo inquam non pessime coniectaui. Nam primo aspectu protinus sensi hominem esse nauclerum. Atqui inquit aberrasti longissime: nauigauit quidem non ut Palinurus, sed ut Vlysses: imo uelut Plato. 34. See CW 4, 301, note to 48/30-31 and D. Baker-Smith, More's Utopia (London: Harper- CollinsAcademic, 1991), 90-91. On the theme of the Platonic voyage, see D. Baker-Smith, Thomas More and Plato's Voyage: An Inaugural Lecture given on 1st June 1978 at University College Cardiff (Cardiff: University College Cardiff Press, 1978). C. Starnes looks at the influence of Plato's Republic on More's Utopia in The New Republic (see n.29 above). For other studies of More's Platonism see the section Utopia: More and Plato in the Bibliographical Appendix. 35. The name "Hythloday" is usually explained as "well-learned in nonsense," see CW 4, pp. 301-302, note to 48/31-32; while Raphael is the name of one of the Archangels, and guide to Tobit in the Book of Tobit. This makes Raphael Hythloday into something of an inspired nonsense-speaker, somewhat akin to Moria, or Dame Folly, in the Praise of Folly. In recent years, much has also been made of Hythloday as an unreliable narrator in Book II. See the sections Utopia: Raphael Hythloday and Utopia: More and Erasmus in the Bibliographical The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 119 Appendix. 36. orbis terrarum contemplandi studio Americo Vespucio se adiunxit, atque in tribus posterioribus illarum quatuor nauigationum quae passim iam leguntur, perpetuus eius comes fuit. 37. More's "Taprobane" (CW 4, 50/17, cf. note on pp. 303-04), was almost certainly Ceylon, but at a later stage in the Renaissance it was identified with Sumatra, see G. W. Whiting, "Milton's Taprobane," RES 13 (1937): 209-12. See also Richard Pace, De fructu qui ex doctrina percipitur: The Benefit of a Liberal Education, ed. and trans. F. Manley and R. S. Sylvester, Renaissance Society of America, Renaissance Texts Series 2 (New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing Co. for the Renaissance Society of America, 1967), 108-9, 173-74. 38. India and Ceylon provide an important connection between Books I and II of Utopia. Antwerp, the setting of Book I, was one of the greatest mercantile cities of Europe in the early sixteenth century. It served as the chief centre for the sale of pepper, cinnamon and other spices that the Portuguese brought back from India and Ceylon and the Far East. It was the bankers of Antwerp who had largely financed the expansion of the Portuguese Empire in the early sixteenth century and in return Antwerp, through the Portuguese feitoria, the Casa da India, that the Portuguese kings maintained there, was made the major centre in Europe for the Portuguese spice trade. It should be recalled that the destination of Vespucci's Fourth Voyage, on which Hythloday sailed, was India. The discovery of Brazil was only made by accident. 39. The whole question of Utopian geography is quite vexed. But one thing needs to be pointed out here: in 1515, neither More nor any of his contemporaries had any idea of how vast the Pacific Ocean was. More obviously thought Brazil and India were quite close to each other. On the question of More's knowledge of geography, see the section Utopia: Geography and Maps in the Bibliographical Appendix. 40. turn ubi nos mutuo salutassemus, atque illa communia dixissemus, quae dici in primo hospitum congressu solent, inde domum meam digredimur, ibique in horto considentes in scamno cespitibus herbeis constrato, confabulamur. 41. "quod per aquam ratibus, per terram curru peragebant" (CW 4, 50/33). 42. "non pessime institutas magna populorum frequentia respublicas" (CW 4, 52/1-2). 43. The Pacific Ocean is not indicated as such on the very early sixteenth-century maps, such as Waldseemiiller's. Instead, the new discoveries in the Americas are indicated as a collection of islands off the coast of Asia. If More's knowledge of geography was not purely classical, neither was it completely modern. See also the section Utopia: Geography and Utopia in the Bibliographical Appendix. 44. Caeterum ubi longius euectus sis, paulatim omnia mansuescere. caelum minus asperum, solum uirore blandum, mitiora animantium ingenia, tandem aperiri populos, urbes, oppida, in his assidua non inter se modo, ac finitimos, sed procul etiam dissitas gentes, terra marique commercia. 45. The desciption here is at least vaguely reminiscent of the Arab dhow and the Chinese junk. 46. His enim de rebus & nos auidissime rogabamus, & ille libentissime disserebat, omissa interim inquisitione monstrorum, quibus nihil est minus nouum. Nam Scyllas & Celenos rapaces, & Lestrigonas populiuoros, atque eiuscemodi immania portenta, nusquam fere non inuenias, at sane ac sapienter institutos ciues haud reperias ubilibet. 47. In the Middle Ages there was a whole genre of travel literature (The Wonders of the The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 120 East') that grew out of the Alexander Romances of the Hellenistic period, such as the Pseudo-Callisthenes. The most famous mediaeval travel account, Mandeville's Travels, is part `Pilgrimage to Jerusalem' and part 'Wonders of the East.' Mandeville is a forerunner of Hythloday in that he too circumnavigates the globe. Mandeville even made use of real travel accounts, such as Marco Polo's. This process of assimilating real contemporary travel accounts to fictional models (of accomodating the new to the old) is also very much at work in Utopia, though More's treatment of Geography is more Classical than Mandeville's. 48. "At in illo nouo orbe terrarum, quem circulus aequator uix tam longe ab hoc nostro orbe semouet: quam uita moresque dissident..." It needs to be pointed out that "nouus orbis" was a rather flexible term in the sixteenth century and could include any region strange and unfamiliar to Western Europeans—not only the Americas, but also most of Africa and Asia, and even at times Eastern Europe (Sarmatia [Poland] and Muscovy). 49. "Caeterum ut multa apud nouos illos populos adnotauit perperam consulta, sic haud pauca recensuit, unde possint exempla sumi corrigendis harum urbium, nationum, gentium, ac regnorum erroribus idonea, alio, ut dixi, loco a me commemoranda. Nunc ea tantum referre animus est, quae de moribus atque institutis narrabat Vtopiensium, praemisso tamen eo sermone, quo uelut tractu quodam ad eius mentionem reipublicae deuentum est." Surely, one of the most ironic passages in the whole of Utopia, since the rest of Book I is spent castigating the vices of European society, to which the virtues of Utopia society in Book II are held up by Narrator Hythloday as a great counter-example. 50. "alia hic, alia illic errata, utrobique certe plurima, turn quae apud nos, quaeue item sunt apud illos cauta sapientius" (CW 4, 54/10-11). 51. Miror profecto mi Raphael, inquit, cur te regi cuipiam non adiungas, quorum neminem esse satis scio, cui tu non sis futurus uehementer gratus, utpote quem hac doctrina, atque hac locorum hominumque peritia non oblectare solum, sed exemplis quoque instruere, atque adiuuare consilio sis idoneus.... 52. "Hoc est inquit ille, una syllaba plusquam seruias" (CW 4, 54/27-28). 53. At ego sic censeo inquit Petrus, quoquo tu nomine rem appelles, eum tamen ipsam esse uiam, qua non alijs modo & privatim, & publice possis conducere, sed tuam quoque ipsius conditionem reddere feliciorem. 54. Felicioremne inquit Raphael, ea uia facerem, a qua abhorret animus? Atqui nunc sic uiuo ut uolo, quod ego certe suspicor paucissimis purpuratorum contingere. 55. Turn ego, perspicuum est inquam te mi Raphael, neque opum est, neque potentiae cupidum, atque ego profecto huius tuae mentis hominem non minus ueneror ac suspicio, quam eorum quemuis, qui maxime rerum sunt potentes. Caeterum uideberis plane rem te atque isthoc animo tuo tarn generoso, tam uere philosopho dignam facturus, si to ita compares, ut uel cum aliquo privatim incommodo ingenium tuum atque industriam, publicis rebus accomodes, quod numquam tanto cum fructu queas, quanto si a consilijs fueris magno alicui principi, eique (quod te facturum certe scio) recta atque honesta persuaseris. 56. Itaque in haec superba, absurda, ac morosa iudicia, cum saepe alibi, turn semel in Anglia quoque incidi. Obsecro inquam, fuisti apud nos? Fui inquit, atque aliquot menses ibi sum uersatus, non multo post earn cladem, qua Anglorum occidentalium ciuile aduersus regem bellum miseranda ipsorum strage compressum est. 57. Similarly in the Dialogue of Comfort, the dialogue supposedly takes place in 1527-1528, about seven to eight years before the actual writing of the work. 58. uiro mi Petre (nam Moro cognita sum narraturus) non autoritate magis, quam prudentia ac uirtute uenerabili. The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 121 59. "nonnunquam suspendi uiginti in una truce" (CW 4, 60/10). Cardinal Morton's household consisted mainly of lawyers, see bibliography in Chapter 2, n.80 above. 60. At non sic euades inquam. 61. Ad haec ille, atqui nobis inquit, hoc hominum genus in primis fovendum est. In his enim, utpote hominibus animi magis excelsi ac generosioris, quam sunt opifices aut agricolae, consistunt uires ac robur exercitus, si quando sit confligendum bello. 62. adeo periculum nullum est, ne quorum ualida & robusta corpora (neque enim nisi selectos dignantur generosi corrumpere) nunc uel elanguescunt ocio, uel negocijs prope muliebribus emolliuntur, ijdem bonis artibus instructi ad uitam, & uirilibus exercitati laboribus effoeminentur. 63. ut homines deuorent ipsos, agros, domos, oppida uastent ac depopulentur. 64. quid aliud quaeso quam facitis fures, & ijdem plectitis? 65. Book II, chapters 16 and 17 (CW 12, 160-87); and Book III, chapters 5 to 16 (pp. 206-44). 66. Sed interim abs to mi Raphael perquam libenter audierim, quare to furtum putes ultimo supplicio non puniendum quamue aliam poenam ipse statuas, quae magis conducat in publicum. 67. Omnino mihi uidetur inquam pater benignissime homini uitam eripi propter ereptam pecuniam prorsus iniquum esse. Siquidem cum humana uita ne omnibus quidem fortunae possessionibus paria fieri posse arbitror. Quos si laesam iustitiam, si leges uiolatas, hac rependi poena dicant, haud pecuniam: quid ni merito summum illud ius, summa uocetur iniuria? 68. nullius institutum gentis magis probo, quam id quod interea dum peregrinabar, in Perside obseruatum apud uulgo dittos Polyleritas adnotaui, populum neque exiguum, neque imprudenter institutum, & nisi quod tributum quotannis Persarum pendit regi: caetera liberum ac suis permissum legibus. Caeterum quoniam longe ab maH, montibus fere circumdati, & suae terrae nulla in re malignae contenti fructibus... 69. Nunquam inquit istud sic stabiliri queat in Anglia, ut non in summum discrimen adducat rempublicam.... 70. ... non est, inquit, procliue diuinare, commodene an secus res cessura sit, nullo prorsus facto periculo. Verum si pronuntiata mortis sententia, differri executionem iubeat princeps, atque hunt experiatur morem, cohibitis asylorum priuilegijs. Turn uero si res comprobetur euentu esse utilis, rectum fuerit eam stabiliri. alioqui tunc quoque afficere supplicio eos, qui sunt ante damanti, neque minus e republica fuerit, neque magis iniustum, quam si nunc idem fieret, nec ullum interea nasci ex ea re potest periculum. Quin mihi certe uidentur errones quoque ad eundem posse modum non pessime tractari, in quos hactenus tam multis aeditis legibus, nihil promouimus tamen. 71. Is ergo, dicente quodam e conuiuis: Iam meo sermone bene prouisum esse furibus, atque a Cardinale etiam cautum de erronibus, restare nunc uti his praeterea consuleretur publicitus, quos ad egestatem morbus aut senectus impulisset, atque ad labores unde uiui possit, reddidisset impotes. 72. Sine, inquit, me. nam ego & hoc recte ut fiat uidero. 73. At ne sic quidem, inquit, extricaberis a mendicis, nisi nobis quoque prospexeris fratribus. The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 122 74. This episode reflects More the author's own criticisms of the abuses of monastic life, which he makes in a Letter to a Monk and elsewhere, and contrasts with the Buthrescae, the hard working ascetics of Book II of Utopia (CW 4, 224/23-226/19). 75. En mi More, quam longo te sermone oneraui, quod tam diu facere plane puduisset me, nisi to & cupide flagitasses, & sic uidereris audire, tanquam nolles quicquam eius confabulationis omitti, quae quanquam aliquanto perstrictius, narranda tamen mihi fuit omnino propter eorum iudicium, qui quae me dicente spreuerant, eadem rursus euestigio non improbante Cardinale, etiam ipsi comprobarunt, usque adeo assentantes ei, ut parasiti quoque eius inuentis, quae dominus per iocum non aspernabatur, adblandirentur & serio propemodum admitterent. Vt hint possis aestimare quanti me ac mea consilia aulici forent aestimaturi. 76. For More's treatment of Cardinal Morton in Utopia and Richard III, see bibliography in Chapter 2, n.80 above. 77. See C. Starnes, "More's Criticism of the Platonic Doctrine of the Philosopher/King," The New Republic, 56-74. 78. quin te plane putem, si animum inducas tuum, uti ne ab aulis principum abhorreas, in publicum posse te tuis consilijs plurimum boni conferre. 79. quam procul aberit felicitas, si philosophi regibus nec dignentur saltem suum impartiri consilium? 80. Hic, inquam, in tanto rerum molimine, tot egregijs uiris ad bellum sua certatim consilia conferentibus, si ego homuncio surgam, ac uerti iubeam uela, omittendam Italiam censeam & domi dicam esse manendum, unum Galliae regnum fere maius esse, quam ut commode possit ab uno administrari, ne sibi putet rex de alijs adijciendis esse cogitandum. Tum si illis proponerem decreta Achoriorum populi, Vtopiensium insulae ad Euronoton oppositi.... 81. hanc orationem quibus auribus mi More, putas excipiendam? Profecto non ualde pronis inquam. 82. "In suscepti diadematis diem Henrici Octavi," in C. H. Miller, et al., eds., Latin Poems, vol. 3, part II of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More (New Haven: Yale UP, 1984), #19, pp. 100-13, especially lines 26-45, 90-127. Henry VIII in fact executed Henry VII's officers, Empson and Dudley, after his coronation. 83. For example, the Case of Richard Hunne in 1514, which More dealt with later in Book III of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies,— see Chapter 5, n.11 below for bibliography. 84. ita nullam causam eius tam aperte iniquam fore, in qua non aliquis eorum uel contradicendi studio, uel pudore dicendi eadem, uel quo gratiam ineant, apud eum aliquam reperiant rimam, qua possit intendi calumnia. Sic dum iudicibus diuersa sentientibus, res per se clarissima disputatur, & ueritas in quaestionem uenit, ansam commodum regi dari, pro suo commodo ius interpretandi. caeteros aut pudore accessuros, aut metu, sic intrepide fertur postea pro tribunali sententia. Neque enim deesse praetextus potest pronuncianti pro principe. Nempe cui satis est aut aequitatem a sua parte esse, aut uerba legis, aut contortum scripti sensum, aut quae legibus denique omnibus praeponderat, apud religiosos iudices principis indisputabilem praerogativam. 85. eoque magis ad principem earn pertinere curam, ut populo bene sit suo, quam ut sibi, non aliter ac pastoris officium est, oues potius quam semet pascere, quatenus opilio est. 86. Book III, Chapters 18-20, CW 12, 250-280. 87. Haec ergo atque huiusmodi si ingererem apud homines in contrariam partem The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 123 uehementer inclinatos, quam surdis essem narraturus fabulam? 88. Surdimissimis inquam, haud dubie. neque hercule miror, neque mihi uidentur (ut uere dicam) huiusmodi sermones ingerendi, aut talia danda consilia, quae certus sis nunquam admissum iri. Quid enim prodesse possit, aut quomodo in illorum pectus influere sermo tam insolens, quorum praeoccupauit animos, atque insedit penitus diuersa persuasio? Apud amiculos in familiari colloquio non insuauis est haec philosophia scholastica. Caeterum in consilijs principum, ubi res magnae autoritate aguntur, non est his rebus locus. 89. See the sections Utopia: Book One, Europe, the 'Dialogue of Counsel,' and Reform in the Bibliographical Appendix. 90. Hoc est, inquit ille, quod dicebam non esse apud principes locum philosophiae. 91. Imo inquam est uerum, non huic scholasticae, quae quiduis putet ubiuis conuenire, sed est alia philosophia ciuilior, quae suam nouit scenam, eique sese accommodans, in ea fabula quae in manibus est, suas partes concinne & cum decoro tutatur. Hac utendum est tibi. 92. & quod in bonum nequis uertere, efficias saltem, ut sit quam minime malum. Nam ut omnia bene sint, fieri non potest, nisi omnes boni sint, quod ad aliquot abhinc annos adhuc non expecto. 93. Quanquam ille meus sermo ut fuerit ingratus illis , atque molestus, ita non uideo cur uideri debeat usque ad ineptias insolens. Quod si aut ea dicerem, quae fingit Plato in sua Republica aut ea quae faciunt Vtopienses in sua.... 94. Mea uero oratio... alioquin quid habuit, quod non ubiuis dici, uel conueniat, uel oporteat? 95. Quippe non est ibi dissimulandi locus, nec licet conniuere. approbanda sunt aperte pessima consilia, & decretis pestilentissimis subscribendum est. Speculatoris uice fuerit, ac pene proditoris, etiam qui improbe consulta maligne laudauerit. Porro nihil occurrit, in quo prodesse quicquam possis, in eos delatus collegas, qui uel optimum uirum facilius corruperint, quam ipsi corrigantur, quorum peruersa consuetudine uel deprauaberis, uel ipse integer atque innocens, alienae malitiae, stultitiaeque conuertere.... 96. mihi uidetur ubicunque privatae sunt possessiones, ubi omnes omnia pecunijs metiuntur, ibi uix unquam posse fieri, ut cum Republica aut iuste agatur, aut prospere.... 97. ut sanentur uero atque in bonum redeant habitum, nulla omnino spes est, dum sua cuique sunt propria. 98. At mihi inquam contra uidetur, ibi nunquam commode uiui posse, ubi omnia sint communia. Nam quo pacto suppetat copia rerum, unoquoque ab labore subducente se? utpote quem neque sui quaestus urget ratio, & alienae industriae fiducia reddit segnem. 99. Verum si in Vtopia fuisses mecum, moresque eorum atque instituta uidisses praesens, ut ego feci, qui plus annis quinque ibi uixi, neque unquam uoluissem inde discedere, nisi ut nouum illem orbem proderem.... 100. The last speech of Giles is on CW 4, 55/29-32, although Hythloday does address him a little later as "my dear Peter [mi Petrel" (58/20). 101. Atqui profecto inquit Petrus Aegidius, aegre persuadeas mihi, melius institutum populum in nouo illo, quam in hoc noto nobis orbe reperiri.... 102. quibus si fides haberi debet, prius apud eos erant urbes, quam homines apud nos. 103. For a possible source for the shipwreck incident (which mystified the Yale editors, cf. The Dialogue in Book I of Utopia / 124 CW 4, 383, note to 108/3), see J. D. M. Derrett's account of a fourth century A. D. interpolation in the Palladius on the Races of India and the Brahmans in "The Theban Scholasticus and Malabar in c.355-360," Journal of the American Oriental Society 82 (1962): 21-31. 104. Et ut illi uno statim congressu quicquid a nobis commode inuentum est, fecerunt suum: Sic diu futurum puto, priusquam nos accipiamus quicquam quod apud illos melius quam nobis est institutum. 105. nec uelis esse breuis, sed explices ordine, agros, fiuuios, urbes, homines, mores, instituta, leges, ac denique omnia, quae nos putes uelle cognoscere. 106. The are a number of brief descriptions of some of Utopia's neighbours in Book II, which are even more similar in function to the exempla of Book I, e.g. the Anemolians (152/26-156/9), the Nephelogetes and Alaopolitans (200/17-23), and the Zapoletans (206/7-208/13). 107. See the sections The Conclusion of Utopia and Utopia: Pleasure and Moral Philosophy in the Bibliographical Appendix. 108. Descripsi uobis quam potui uerissime eius formam Reipublicae quam ego certe non optimam tantum, sed solam etiam censeo, quae sibi suo iure possit Reipublicae uendicare uocabulum. 109. Itaque omnes has quae hodie usquam florent Respublicas animo intuenti ac uersanti mihi, nihil sic me amet deus, occurrit aliud quam quaedam conspiratio diuitum, de suis commodis Reipublicae nomine, tituloque tractantium. 110. e qua cum ipso usu sublata penitus omni auiditate pecuniae, quanta moles molestiarum recisa, quanta scelarum seges radicitus euulsa est? Quis enim nescit fraudes, furta, rapinas, rixas, tumultus, iurgia, seditiones, caedes, proditiones, ueneficia, cotidianis uindicata potius quam refrenata supplicijs, interempta pecunia commori, ad haec metum sollicitudinem curas, labores, uigilias, eodem momento quo pecunia perituras. quin paupertas ipsa, quae sola pecunijs uisa est indigere, pecunia prorsus undique sublata, protinus etiam ipsa decresceret. 111. ... nisi una tantum belua, omnium princeps parensque pestium superbia, reluctaretur. 112. Haec ubi Raphael recensuit, quanquam haud pauca mihi succurrebant, quae in eius populi moribus, legibusque perquam absurde uidebantur instituta, non solum de belli gerendi ratione, & rebus diuinis, ac religione, alijsque insuper eorum institutis, sed in eo quoque ipso maxime, quod maximum totius institutionis fundamentum est uita scilicet, uictuque communi, sine ullo pecuniae commercio, qua una re funditus euertitur omnis nobilitas, magnificentia, splendor, maiestas, uera ut publica est opinio decora atque ornamenta Reipublicae.... 113. De urbibus, de magistratibus, de artificiis, de commerciis mutuis, de peregrinatione utopiensium, de servis, de re militari, de religionibus utopiensium. The section 'On Utopian Travel', for example, also deals with their 'hedonistic' moral philosophy. 114. On the possible identities of the glossator (More, Peter Giles or Erasmus), and on the role of the glosses as providing yet one more level of 'dialogue', see D. G. McKinnon, "The Marginal Glosses in More's Utopia: The Character of the Commentator," Renaissance Papers, 1970, ed. D. G. Donovan (Columbus, SC: The Southeastern Renaissance Conference: 1971), 11-19. 4. THE DIALOGUE CONCERNING HERESIES: BOOKS I AND II 4.1. THE ARGUMENT OF THIS CHAPTER The Dialogue Concerning Heresies is generally regarded as the best of More's polemical works. 1 Rainer Pineas calls it "easily the single most brilliant among More's many works of religious controversy, "2 and Richard C. Marius describes it in similar terms as More's "first and most brilliant polemical work in English," 3 while for C. S. Lewis the Dialogue Concerning Heresies "is great Platonic dialogue: perhaps the best specimen of that form ever produced in English. s 4 At the same time More has often been accused of formlessness and incoherence in the composition of his polemical works, including the Dialogue Concerning Heresies. G. R. Elton in particular describes More's polemical works as "diffuse, ill-organized, repetitive and dull— and endless." 5 Thomas Lawler, one of the Yale editors, has portrayed the Dialogue Concerning Heresies as a [( polemical maze": 6 ...the Messenger enters the maze at the first digression in Book One... The structure of the Dialogue is the structure of heresy itself, one digression or bypath leading to another, farther and farther from the common way (CW 6, 443). Whatever one thinks of the image of the maze as a metaphor for heresy, it is clearly inadequate as an explanation of the structure of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies. ? Brendan Bradshaw objects to Lawler's image that: "A Dialogue does not present a polemical maze, as has been suggested. It is not a labyrinth of sidetracks and blind alleys." 8 Louis Martz on the other hand defends More's digressiveness in his polemical works. 9 He argues that they embody a unity of the kind that one finds in St. Augustine's works, and that the argument grows "toward a unity of meaning by repetitition, recapitulation, association, even by digression." 1° If More often takes us by the scenic route, as Bradshaw points out "the result is to achieve a novel perspective on the polemical terrain." 11 125 The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 126 While Martz is undoubtedly right in pointing to the Augustinian "order of the heart" as an important dimension of More's literary artistry in his polemical works, I agree with Brendan Bradshaw 12 and Walter Gordon 13 that the Dialogue Concerning Heresies at least has a very definite and clear structure: The Dialogue divides into two main sections: Books One and Two focus on issues related to the images, shrines, and other physical aspects of Catholic worship; Books Three and Four defend the Church's right to try and punish those preachers who would uproot and overthrow this worship. The entire opus, for all its conversational digression, maintains a consistency of thought and interest. 14 My own analysis of structure offered below in this chapter and the next is essentially a refinement of that offered by Bradshaw and Gordon, though I distinguish three main sections rather than two in the structure of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies. Besides the question of structure, there is the related question of form. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies takes the form of a reported dialogue ("He said—I said") between two voices, one of whom is usually called the Messenger ("quod he"), and the other whom I will call Chancellor More ("quod I"). Some critics have taken exception to the form of the work, G. R. Elton, in particular, in reviewing the Yale Edition complains that "the constant use of `quoth I' and `quoth he'... is only just less tedious than one would suppose." 15 Though he admits that the Messenger is a three-dimensional person, he goes on to claim that: More's apparent fairness covered an essentially crude sort of argument. Though the Messenger is seemingly allowed to bring up one difficult matter after another, making several telling points, discussion is always terminated at a point chosen by [Chancellor] More and therefore usually without any proper or conclusive answer.... [Chancellor] More simply ties himself in knots, meeting no point of the opposite argument head-on.... The truth is that More had no intention to debate anything in the real sense of the word. 16 Contrary to the views of Elton and others, I would argue that the "Protestant-Catholic" Messenger (he is not in fact a Lutheran but only reporting their opinions) does in fact put up The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 127 a rather stiff argument for the "other side," which Chancellor More is rather pressed at times to answer. Elton in any case shows himself to be rather textually naive in confusing the first person voice of the dialogue (Chancellor More) with the mind of the author (Sir Thomas More)—the same mistake that many have made in interpreting Utopia (confusing either Persona More or Hythloday with More). Elton's mistake is a rather common one—it is not wise in dealing with a writer as sophisticated as More was to take anything for granted. Even in More's other polemical works, such as the Responsio ad Lutherum or the Confutation of Tyndale's Answer, where the tone is often openly sarcastic and mocking, More was quite clearly fashioning for himself a polemical persona.' ? But here where the ironies are much more subtle and indirect, and where in addition we have to deal with two voices, one needs to be especially careful. More's use of the dialogue form in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies is every bit as sophisticated as in Book I of Utopia and in the Dialogue of Comfort. 18 It is my intention in this chapter and the next also to prove that, contrary to the views of G. R. Elton and others, the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, has in fact, underneath its apparently rambling and digressive surface, a very intricate, but coherent and carefully worked out structure. 19 My intention in this chapter is to focus on the intricate structure of the dialogue in Books I and II. Book I is by far the longest of the four books, taking up more than a third (roughly forty percent) of the total length of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, while Book II is the shortest at about fifteen percent. The contents of Books I and II deal mainly with the traditional Lollard attacks on the devotions to images, saints, miracles, pilgrimages and the oral tradition of the Church, as restated with renewed vigour also by the early English protestants, whereas the new Lutheran doctrines do not come in for much discussion until Book IV, and Tyndale's translation of the New Testament is not discussed until the end of The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 128 Book III. I intend also to show in this chapter how the questions and objections raised by the Messenger and responses made by Chancellor More are crucial to the unfolding of More's argument in defence of the authority of the Catholic Church and of the right relationship between scripture and tradition. The discussion of Tyndale's translation of the New Testament in Book III, and of treatment of the Lutheran doctrines of 'Justification by Faith Alone' and Predestination in Book IV will be postponed to the next chapter. 4.2. TEXTUAL HISTORY AND BACKGROUND The textual history of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies is the most straightforward of the four texts under consideration. It was published for the first time by More's brother-in-law John Rastell in June 1529, and a second edition was published in 1531 by John Rastell's son William Rastell. William Rastell supervised its publication again as part of his 1557 Folio Edition of More's English Works. The first modern edition, edited by W. E. Campbell and A. W. Reed, was published in 1927, and was reissued in 1931 as Volume II of The English Works of Sir Thomas More. 20 This edition consists of a facsimile of the black letter text of the 1557 edition, together with a modern-spelling transcription of the 1557 edition. The first real critical edition of A Dialogue Concerning Heresies was published in 1981 as Volume 6 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. 21 In contrast with its simple textual history, the Dialogue Concerning Heresies has the most complicated structure of the four works under consideration here. The structure of the work will be dealt with in considerable detail later. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies is organised as a formal literary dialogue between two speakers—one of whom is usually indicated by the phrase "quod he" [he said] and the other by "quod [I said]. The introductory letters that frame the beginning of the Dialogue identify the "quod I" voice as being that of the Master Chancellor, i.e. the "author", Sir Thomas More, Chancellor of the Duchy of Lancaster in 1528, when the work was being The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 129 written (published 1529), and Chancellor of England in 1531, when the second edition was published. In the chapter heads to the individual chapters and in the Table of Contents in the 1531 and 1557 editions (CW 6, 1-20), which were compiled from the chapter heads, the two speakers are referred to as "The Authour" and "The Messenger." Since it would inevitably cause confusion to modern readers to refer to one of the two personae of the dialogue, the "quod I" voice, as "the author," I have chosen the title "Chancellor More" to designate the first person voice, and "More" to refer to the author, Sir Thomas More. The other voice, the "quod he" voice, will be referred to from now on as the Messenger. The one exception I have made, in the use of the above titles, is to retain the term "the author" for the narrative voice that appears in the Preface and in Book I, chapter 1. There is also a third figure who enters indirectly into the work, simply referred to as "a ryght worshypfull frende of myne" (CW 6, 21/7) by Chancellor More (whom I shall refer to hereafter as the Friend); he is both a friend of Chancellor More, and the employer of the Messenger, who is the tutor to his children. At the request of the Friend, the Messenger reports to Chancellor More various heretical opinions, both Lollard and Lutheran, that were circulating in England at the time. The Messenger is a more-or-less orthodox Catholic, but he is obviously influenced by the heretical arguments that he reports, and has contacts with various heterodox elements at the English universities. In addition, in the preface the author claims to have written his work down as a record of the conversations between himself and the Messenger in order to send it to the Friend. There are times in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies when the "quod I" voice, Chancellor More, directly addresses the Friend or in speaking to the Messenger refers to "my good frende your mayster" (46/19) in a familiar tone. Through this technique the reader is being invited in a subtle manner to identify himself with the role of the Friend—the 'postulated reader' 22 thus becomes a non-speaking character in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 130 Throughout the dialogue there is a 'homey' kind of atmosphere invoked and, indeed, the actual setting of the dialogue is More's own house at Chelsea. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies is a handbook written for Catholic laymen and laywomen to show them how to deal with various heretical arguments, both the traditional Lollard and the new-fangled Lutheran ones. It is important to keep in mind that for all his enthusiasm in defending various heretical opinions, the Messenger is neither a Lollard nor a Lutheran, and that the audience that More was primarily writing for was a Catholic one. It is true that Tyndale, among others, wrote a vigorous response to the Dialogue; 23 however, More's intention, in writing the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, was clearly not to rebut directly the arguments of Tyndale and others, but rather to give his lay audience the theological weapons to counter heretical opinions. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies is the first in a series of several polemical works written by More in English during the period 1528-1534. 24 There were also two earlier polemical works written in Latin. 25 While More did make use of dialogue and reported speech in some of the other English polemical works, especially in The Supplication of Souls, and in Book VIII of The Confutation of Tyndale's Answer, 26 he did not attempt to write a formal literary dialogue again until after he was imprisoned in the Tower in April 1534. There he produced what some consider his greatest English work, A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation, and also collaborated with his daughter in the composition of a "mini-dialogue" in the form of a letter. 27 In his polemical works, More was quite clearly writing for his own contemporaries, and not for posterity. In the period between 1528 and 1534, he wrote over a million words in early Tudor English. Tyndale, and other Protestant polemicists also took up the challenge implicit in the ending of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and, though none of them was as voluminous as "Master More", together they more than matched his literary output. It The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 131 would scarcely be an exaggeration to say that in the "Battle of the Books" surrounding the beginnings of the English Reformation modern English prose was born. No one who is seriously interested in the history of the English Reformation, or for that matter in the beginnings of modern English prose can afford to ignore these works. More has sometimes been faulted for his prolixity and verbosity. Not all of his polemical writings can be considered great literary works, though all contain many flashes of that characteristic Morean wit, and of his equally characteristic use of "merry tales", proverbs and aphorisms. More was in many ways a pioneer in his English works (together with such other contemporaries as William Tyndale) in shaping modern English prose into a medium supple enough and robust enough to express complex philosophical and theological ideas. 28 And at least in the case of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, More also produced a work of great literary power and sophistication. 4.3. ANALYSIS OF TEXT 4.3.1. Introduction to The Dialogue Concerning Heresies (20/1— 37/22) Like the Utopia the Dialogue Concerning Heresies has an elaborate introduction of almost twenty pages (21/1-37/22), consisting of a Preface, 29 two further 'prefatory letters' and an introductory narrative in Chapter 1 and the opening pages of Chapter 2 (35/10-37/22), before the dialogue proper begins on page 37/23 in Chapter 2. 30 This introductory material sets up an elaborate fictional frame within which the dialogue proper is meant to be read. The Preface begins with the 'author' 31 relating how a "ryght worshypfull frende of myne" (21/7), hereafter called the Friend, sent a "secrete sure frende of his" (21/8), referred to hereafter as the Messenger, to the 'author' with a certain `credence', i.e. message of introduction, to be declared to him. From what follows in Chapter 1, it is clear that part of this 'credence' was meant to be read from a letter and the rest presented orally.32 The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 132 At first the 'author' had thought it enough to reply orally to the matters raised by the Messenger in his 'credence'. After the Messenger had departed, however, the 'author', considering the seriousness of the matters discussed by the Messenger and him and not wishing to trust only in the Messenger's memory, had second thoughts and decided to write the whole discussion down and send it to the Friend in writing. Since the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, which purports to be a record of a series of conversations between the author, Chancellor More, and the Messenger, is over four hundred pages long, the Messenger would not only have to have a lot of good will, but also an excellent, even `photographic' memory. Though the 'author' protests his good faith in the Messenger, another reason he gives for writing their conversations down is the fear that the Messenger might be corrupted by the wrong side (i.e. the Lutherans) into misrepresenting the argument. However, the 'author's' rest did not last for long; for soon afterwards, he discovered that various copies of his 'manuscript' had been made, and some taken over the sea (to Germany). Fearing that his 'manuscript' would fall into English Lutheran hands, and that his words might be corrupted and changed for the worse, he then took upon himself the third business of publishing and putting his book into print. 33 Prior to publishing his `manuscript', the 'author' showed it to various learned men, who at his request read it over. 34 This he did for two reasons. The two reasons draw attention to two important stylistic features of the work (only one of which is dealt with in this study), to which at least some of More's contemporary (and modern) readers might be expected to object; namely, the strong language used by the Messenger, and the incorporation of merry tales into the dialogue: 35 The one [reason] for the lyberall allegacyons of the messenger for the wronge parte so layde out at large / yt of myselfe I stode halfe in a doubte whyther it were conuenient to reherse the wordes of any man so homly / and in maner somtyme vnreuerently spoken agaynst goddes holy halowes [saints] / and theyr reuerent memoryes. The other was certayne tales and The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 133 mery wordes whiche he mengled with his matter / and some suche on myne owne parte amonge / as occasyon fell in communycacyon. (CW 6, 23/11-18) The 'author' was encouraged in this by the example of the Church Fathers, who in the works they wrote against heretics, did not hesitate to quote the actual words of their opponents, even when they were "somtyme of suche maner and sorte as a good man wolde not well bere" (23/25-26). These same authors were also not afraid "to wryte a mery worde in a ryght ernest worke" (23/27). Nonetheless, he consulted the judgement of "other vertuouse & connynge men" (23/31), and followed their advice so that he let "nothyng stand in this boke / but such as twayn aduysyd me specyally to let stande / agaynst any one that any dowte mouyd me to the contrary" (24/10-12). Though the account of the Preface is obviously a fiction, it may reflect part of the actual process by which the real author, Sir Thomas More, actually prepared the work for publication, and it certainly does serve as a defence of the artistic decorum of the work, of More's deliberate adoption of the 'mixed' or `middle style', combining, like Chaucer's Canterbury Tales, matters of both 'sentence' and `solace'. 36 The Preface ends with a prayer that God will grant those, who read "this rude symple worke" (24/14), as much profit in the reading "as my pore hart hath mente you and entended in the makynge" (24/16-17). The first chapter of Book I begins with the 'letter of credence' sent by the Friend to Chancellor More. The Friend begins by thanking Chancellor More for his good company when they were last together and states that he is sending "my specyall secret frend this berer [of the letter]" (24/32), i.e. the Messenger, to discuss with Chancellor More some of the same matters that they had previously discussed—we are never told what these were—and some that had arisen since then, that everyone is talking about. The 'letter of credence' does not actually specify what these matters are; this is left for the Messenger later to deliver orally in his 'credence' in face-to-face conversation with Chancellor More, The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 134 perhaps, because they would be too dangerous to put into writing. The Friend is obviously disturbed by these matters: For I assure you / some folke here talke very straungely of ye thynges that he shall moue you / Not onely for suche wordes as they tell / that come from thense / but also most especyally thrughe the occasyon of some letters lewdely wrytten hyther out of London by a preest or two / whom they take here for honest. But what so euer any man tell or wryte / I shall for the confydence and trust that I haue in you / surely take and tell forth for the very truth / what so euer ye shall affyrme vnto my frende / whome I sende vnto you.... (CW 6, 25/15-22) The Friend states further that Chancellor More should speak to the Messenger as if he were talking to the Friend himself. He expresses confidence in the trustworthiness and good memory of the Messenger, and praises him as being "more then meanly lerned / with one thyng added / where with ye be wonte well to be contente / a very mery wytte" (25/29-31). The Friend has bidden the Messenger to speak his mind boldly to Chancellor More, and not to strain at any courtesies. The Friend expresses confidence in Chancellor More's ability to rise to the challenge in answering the Messenger's questions: "Thus may ye se I am bolde on your goodnes / to put you to labour and busynes / and sende one to face you in your owne house. But so moche am I bolder / for that in such chalenges [debates] I know you for a redy and sure defender" (26/2-6). The 'letter of credence' serves two functions. One is to remind the readers that the discussions that follow in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies are part of a much larger debate going on throughout England at the time, concerning, as we shall see below, the spread of heresy and the new Lutheran doctrines. The Friend obviously feels that these are matters of great urgency that need to be handled with some discretion on Chancellor More's part. The other is to establish the 'credentials' of the Messenger, bearing as he does the confidence of the Friend, and also to delineate something of the Messenger's character. What follows immediately after this, however, is not the Messenger's 'credence' but The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 135 "The letter of the author sent with the boke", i.e. the fictional preface to the imaginary `manuscript' sent by Chancellor More to the Friend after the departure of the Messenger (see the Preface). In his 'letter' Chancellor More writes that although he has confidence in the Messenger, he thought that the Friend wolde rather haue chosyn to haue hard my mynde of myne owne mouth than by the meane of another / I haue synse in these fewe days (in whiche I haue ben at home) put the matter in wryttyng / to the ende / ye may not onely here it by the mouth of your frende / but also (whiche better is / than sodenly ones to here yt of myne owne mouth) rede yt (yf ye lyst) more often at your best leysure aduysedly from myne owne pen. (CW 6, 26/21-27) Chancellor More then states that he went to this trouble not only because many doubted the truth of the charges made "not onely of [against] that man ye wrote of / but also of Luther hym selfe" (27/6-7). The man, whom Chancellor More carefully avoids referring to by name (more on this below), is obviously the subject of the letters that the Friend mentions in his `letter of credence'. The whole introduction is a masterpiece of indirection in that only gradually do the major themes of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies come into focus—very much like the beginning of a movie, when the camera zooms in on the opening scene. After this comes the 'credence' of the Messenger, i.e. those matters entrusted by the Friend to the Messenger to be delivered orally to Chancellor More, and to which the Friend's `letter of credence' serves as an introduction. In his 'credence' (27/28-32/24), the Messenger makes four charges on behalf of the Friend that will become the subject matter of debate in what follows in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, though in fact we actually do not get to these matters until Books III and IV (more on this below). Chancellor More begins by addressing the Friend: Your frende [i.e. the Messenger] 37 fyrst after your letter redde (whan I demaunded hym his credence) shewed me that ye had sent hym to me / not for any doubte that your selfe had in many of those thynges that he sholde moue vnto me / but for the doubte that ye perceyued in many other / and The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 136 in some folke playne persuasyon to the contrary.... (CW 6, 27/28-32) The first charge concerns an unnamed priest of whom "it was there not only spoken / but also thyder wrytten by dyuers honest preestes out of London / that the man ye [i.e. the Friend] wryte of / was of many thynges borne wronge in hande" (28/1-4). The Messenger's `credence' goes on to claim that this priest had been greatly wronged, and falsely accused of preaching heresy by the clergy. This priest was almost certainly Thomas Bilney, but More as author goes to great lengths, as this remarkable periphrasis indicates, to avoid naming him. This is a very distinctive and remarkable feature of More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies. Apart from Luther and Tyndale, and Richard Hunne, who were too well-known to avoid naming, More very carefully avoids giving names. It is true that Bilney was still alive when the first two editions of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies were published, but the effect is clearly to draw attention away from individual heretics to the discussion of heresy itself. Despite the frankness, casualness, and intimacy of the conversations in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, there is a public, impersonal quality to the work, reinforced by the lack of mention of names and of concrete details of setting. It also gives a strangely impersonal, and even at times sinister, quality to More's description or anatomy of the varieties of heresy— a tone that pervades most of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies. The second matter (28/19-29/16) raised in the Messenger's 'credence' is the burning of Tyndale's 1526 translation of the New Testament at Paul's Cross. The Messenger accuses the clergy of trying to keep the gospel out of the hands of the common people, and states that the cause of this is an ecclesiastical constitution (the Arundel Constitution of 1408), prohibiting the translation of any book of scripture into English. The third charge (29/17-21/6) condemns the clergy's treatment of Luther and his works. The Messenger states that even if Luther is a heretic there is some good in what he says. The reason that he was condemned was that he wrote somewhat liberally against the court of Rome and the The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 137 vices of the clergy. The fourth charge (31/7-32/4) concerns the burning of heretics, and the wars against the Turks. The Messenger charges that the clergy do not show a proper spirit of charity when they burn heretics; and that in the early church, the old holy Fathers used to dispute with heretics, and tried to win them over by teaching them, and not by faggots. And finally, the Messenger declares that we should convert the pagans, Turks and Saracens by peaceful means, and not by waging wars on them. After the Messenger has declared his "credence" and after protesting his Catholic orthodoxy, he adds one more point of his own, which becomes a very important sub-theme running throughout Books I and II of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies. He argues that since Church leaders are fallible we can never trust the reliability of their judgements (or the truthfulness of their teaching): in particular, in the matter of heresy trials, that, since a man may easily be falsely accused, we can always doubt whether any person so condemned for heresy was in fact guilty: he thought he sayd (as of hymselfe) yt men myght without any parell of heresy / for theyr owne parte / notwithstandyng any mannes judgement gyuen / yet well and reasonably doubte therM / For though he thought it heresy / to thynke the oppynyons of any man to be good and catholyque / whiche ben heresyes in dede / yet myght a man he thought without any parell of heresy / doubte whyther he were an heretyke or no / that were by mannes iudgement condempned for one / syth it myght well happen that he neuer helde those oppynyons that were put vppon hym / but that he was eyther by false deposycyons or wrongefull wytnesse / or by the erroure or malyce of vniust iudges condempned. (CW 6, 32/36-33/9) He effectively denies to ecclesiastical judges the ability to make binding judgements on the guilt or innocence of heretics. The Messenger, however, continues rather diplomatically by expressing full confidence and trust in the ability of Chancellor More to answer the points made in his 'credence'. Chancellor More continues his narrative, which throughout the `introduction' (in Chapters 1 and 2) is addressed to the Friend, by asking the Messenger "what maner acquayntaunce was bytwene hym & you [i.e. the Friend]" (33/22). The The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 138 Messenger replies that he is the tutor of the Friend's sons. On being asked further "to what faculte he had most gyuen his study" (33/24), he replied the study of "the latyn tonge [i.e. grammar]" (33/25). After heaping contempt upon all the other liberal arts apart from (Latin) grammar, he indicates that "he had ben (which I moche commende) studyouse in holy scrypture / whiche was he sayd lernynge ynoughe for a crysten man" (33/35-36). The Messenger goes on to say that he has laboured to learn many texts of scripture by heart, and that he finds such great sweetness in the text itself that he has no time for the interpretations of commentators, or for reading any glosses. The best solution to difficulties in interpreting scripture is to compare one text with another, and to trust that God will reveal to the reader the true meaning of the passage. This introduces yet another major theme of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies: namely, relationship between scripture and the oral tradition of the Church, and on how scripture is to be interpreted. After hearing this, Chancellor More, pretending lack of leisure, sends the Messenger away to give himself time to prepare a reply to the Messenger's charges, and requires the Messenger to return the next morning. He explains to the Friend his real reasons: Vpon these wordes and other lyke / whan I consydered that your frende [i.e. the Messenger] was studyous of scrypture / & all thoughe I now haue a very good oppynyon of hym / nor at yt tyme had not all ye contrary / yet to be playne with you and hym bothe / by reason that he set the matter so well and lustely forwarde / he put me somwhat in doubte whether he were (as yonge scolers be somtyme prone to newe fantasyes) fallen in to luthers secte. And that ye peraduenture somwhat ferynge the same / dyd of good mynde the rather sende hym to me / with suche a message / for that ye trusted he sholde be somwhat answered & satysfyed by me. (CW 6, 34/24-33) On the following day, when the Messenger returns, Chancellor More begins by repeating the charges made in the Messenger's "credence," and promises that he will answer them in turn: And then I shewed vnto hym / that... I wolde (all superfluous The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 139 recapytulacyon set aparte) as bryefly as I conuenyently coude shewe hym my mynde in them all. And fyrst begyn where he bygan at the abiuracyon of the man he spake of [Bilney]. Secondly wolde I touche the condemp- nacyon and burnyng of the new testament / translated by Tyndale. Thyrdly somwhat wold I speke of Luther and his secte in generall. Fourthly and fynally / the thynge that he touched last / that is to wyt / the warre and fyghtyng agaynst infydels / with the condempnacyon of heretykes vnto dethe / whiche two poyntys / hym selfe had combyned and knytte togyther. (CW 6, 35/24-36/4) Anyone reading this passage for the first time would naturally suppose, and everything which we have read up to this point in the elaborate introductory frame would tend to confirm, that this is a prospectus for the rest of the work that follows. And in fact, Thomas M. C. Lawler attempts to argue precisely this point in the introduction to the Yale edition (CW 6, 552-53). However, we have just reached one of the major cruxes in interpreting the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, for what follows immediately in the next two hundred pages of Books I and II of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies has nothing whatsoever to do with this prospectus. The prospectus does indeed rather accurately describe the contents of Books III and IV (see Figure 4.1 below), but, before we can untangle the web, it is necessary to read on a bit further. The account continues on from this point as if it were going to deal immediately with the first point. The man referred to here, as having recently abjured his heresies in an ecclesiastical court, has been identified by modern scholars as the preacher Thomas Bilney, who though never mentioned by name anywhere in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, would have been very well known to More's contemporary audience. Bilney, who was later to be burnt at the stake in 1531, has been seen variously as a Lollard, an evangelical Catholic or an early Protestant martyr. 38 In 1527, Bilney had been tried for heresy and had abjured (and was released a year later), but also denied that he had preached the heresies in question. It is fairly clear that at least in 1527, the doctrines that Bilney preached were mainly Lollard in inspiration. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 140 Recapitulates argument of Book 1:18 to Book 11:7 (dialogue-within- a-dialogue between the Messenger and "An Unnamed Critic") "the abiuracyon of the man he spake of [i.e. Bilney] (35/30) "the condempnacyon and burnyng of the new testament / translated by Tyndale" (35/31) On the posthumous heresy trial of Richard Hunne (an important example of reported dialogue-within-a-dialogue)] Introduction to Book IV; Chap. 2b contains a further defence of images (in 1531 and 1557 editions) (cf. 1:2 and III:1) "somewhat wold I speke of Luther and his secte in generall" (35/32) `On the examination of the English Lutheran preacher' (an extremely important example of dialogue-within-a-dialogue)] "the condempnacyon of heretykes vnto dethe" (36/3) "the warre and fyghtyng agynst infydels" (36/2) The Conclusion to the Dialogue Concerning Heresies Book III Chapter 1 Heresies B 1. Chapters 2-7 2. Chapters 8-14, 16 [2b. Chapter 15 Book IV Chapters 1, 2b 3a. Chapters 2a, 3-9 [3b. Chapters 10-12 4a. Chapters 13, 15-18a 4b. Chapter 14 Chapter 18b Figure 4.1. The Structure of Books III and IV of Heresies Chancellor More begins by vindicating the integrity of Bilney's ecclesiastical judges (Cuthbert Tunstall and Cardinal Wolsey), and denies the claims of those priests who had written letters out of London (i.e. the letters already referred to in the Friend's 'letter of credence') that Bilney had never in fact preached the heresies he had been accused of. He goes on to list Bilney's heresies: For the artycles where with he was charged / were that we sholde do no worshyp to any ymages / nor pray to any sayntes / or go on pylgrymagys / whiche thyngys I suppose euery good crysten man wyll agre for heresyes. And therfore we shall let that poynt passe and so resort to the seconde / to se whyther it were well prouyd that he preched them or no. (CW 6, 37/16-22) At this point it seems that Chancellor More is just about ready to launch into an account of Bilney's trial (an account that is actually postponed to Book III, Chapter 2), when the Messenger, refusing after all to let the first point pass, interjects "Syr quod your frende / I The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 141 wolde for my parte well agre them for heresyes / but yet haue I hard som or [before] this that wold not do so. And therfore whan we call them heresyes / it were well done to tell why" (37/23-25). Here the dialogue proper begins, and in a move for which the reader has been left completely unprepared, Chancellor More drops (or rather postpones) his intended prospectus, and instead begins a defence of the traditional Catholic teachings on images, saints, miracles and pilgrimages, and other such matters, that takes up the whole of Books I and II. It is true that the rubric to Chapter 2 has already warned the reader that the `author' intends briefly to declare "his mynde concernynge the confutacyon of those perylouse and pernycyouse opynyons" (35/17-18); however, there is no indication that this `brief' excursus will last over two hundred pages! Before throwing up our hands in despair and totally giving up on the introductory frame (at least as an introduction to Books I and II), there is one last important piece of evidence, that we have overlooked, namely the title-page. The title in both editions published in More's lifetime gives a detailed account of the contents: A dyaloge of syr Thomas More knyghte: one of the counsayll of our souerayne lorde the kyng and chauncelloure of hys duchy of Lancaster. Wheryn be treatyd dyuers maters / as of the veneracyon & worshyp of ymagys & relyques / prayng to sayntis / & goynge on pylgrymage. Wyth many other thyngys touchyng the pestylent secte of Luther & Tyndale / by the tone bygone in Saxony / & by the tother laboryd to be brought in to England. Newly ouersene by the sayd syr Thomas More chauncellour of England. 1530. (CW 6, 3) We have finally found the indispensable clue—there are not one but actually two "Dialogues Concerning Heresies", which I will call Heresies A and Heresies B to avoid confusion with the formal four-book structure. Heresies A (corresponding roughly to Book I, Chapter 3 to Book III, Chapter 1) which deals with the veneration of images and relics, praying to saints, and going on pilgrimages, and for which 37/16-22, already quoted above, effectively serves as a The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 142 Introduction CW 6, pp.1-20 CW 6, pp. 21-24 Book I Chapter la (24/18-26/7) Chapter lb (26/8-27/27) Chapter le (27/28-32/24) Chapter ld (32/25-35/9) Chapter 2a (35/10-37/22) Heresies A Chapter 2b (37/23-51/19) 1. Chapters 3-17 2. Chapters 18-31 Book II [Chapter la (187/1-189/7) 3. Chapters lb-7 4. Chapters 8-12 Table of Contents (in 1531 and 1557 editions). Taken from the rubrics of the individual chapter heads Untitled Preface. Contains fictional narrative of the 'publication history' of the work The letter of credence sent by the Friend to Chancellor More The letter of the authour sent with the boke—i.e. Chancellor More's prefatory letter sent with the unpublished 'manuscript' of the dialogue to the Friend The credence of the Messenger presented to Chancellor More orally after the reading of the 'letter of credence'. (The 'credence' contains four points or charges that are dealt with in Books III and IV) Chancellor More's narrative of his initial interview with the Messenger, after the Messenger has delivered his 'credence' Messenger returns next day. Chancellor More promises to reply to the four points of the Messenger's 'credence'. Begins the discussion of the first point, the abjuration of Thomas Bilney, which however is then postponed to Book III, Chapter 2. Sudden and unprepared introduction of 'real' subject matter of the discussion that follows in Books I and II Beginning of dialogue proper. Definition of heresies, defence of images, and discussion of The Image of Love (in 1531 and 1557 editions) On saints, images, miracles and pilgrimages (A 1 ) On scripture and the oral tradition of the Church (A 2 ) Recapitulates argument of Book I (mainly Chapters 18-31)] On the Catholic Church as the true Church of Christ (A 2 ) More on images, relics, saints and pilgrimages (A 1 ) Figure 4.2. The Structure of Books I and II of Heresies prospectus; and Heresies B (corresponding roughly to the 'introductory frame' in Book I and Book III, Chaps. 2-16, and Book IV), which has already been outlined for us in the `introductory frame, and for which 35/24-36/4, already quoted above, serves as a prospectus, and which deals mainly with the treatment of Tyndale's translation of the New Testament into English, and the spread of the Lutheran doctrines in England (and on the Continent). The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 143 But nothing is ever what it seems in dealing with Thomas More, and the actual contents of Books I and II, can at best only be partially accounted for by this new "prospectus." Books I and II in fact have a "chiasmic" (a-b-b-a) or even quadripartite structure—like that of Books III and IV. The second half of Book I and the first part of Book II actually deal with the nature of the Church: Book I (Chaps. 18-31) deals with the relationship between the oral tradition and the written scriptures, and Book II (Chaps. 1-7) with the Catholic Church as the true Church of Christ. The first half of Book I (Chaps. 3-17) in fact covers the grounds of the new prospectus of 37/16-22, and this material is taken up again in the second part of Book II (Chaps. 8-12). 39 See Figure 4.2 for an analysis of the structure of Books I and II (including the introductory material). The sections of Heresies A (Book I, Chaps. 18-31, and Book II, Chaps. 1-7) that deal with the nature of the Church and of the relationship between the oral tradition of the Church and the written scriptures function almost like a "dialogue-within-a-dialogue" within Heresies A —in a fashion similar to the 'Cardinal Morton Episode' within the framework of Book I of Utopia. I shall refer to this part of Heresies A as Heresies A 2 , while the sections of Heresies A that deal with the defence of images, pilgrimages, saints and miracles, and so on, will be referred to hereafter as Heresies A 1 . Before going on to discuss the argument of Books I and II, I wish to address briefly the relationship between the two halves of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, which I am now calling Heresies A and Heresies B. Heresies A is a general defence of Catholic beliefs—on the devotion to images and saints, on miracles and pilgrimages, and also on the nature of the Church and of the relationship between the oral tradition of the Church and the written scriptures—against the traditional attacks of the Lollards, as restated with renewed vigour by the early English Protestants; whereas Heresies B is clearly an occasional piece responding to the then current issues of the heresy trial of Bilney (1527), and the The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 144 ecclesiastical prohibition of Tyndale's 1526 English translation of the New Testament. Apart from the discussion of the problems surrounding Tyndale's translation and of translations of the Bible in general in the second half of Book III, and possibly the account of "The Examination of the Lutheran Preacher" in Book IV, Chap. 11 which deals with the central Lutheran doctrine of justification by faith, the topics of discussion in Heresies B are mainly of historical interest. The material in Heresies B is on the whole much more disjointed and less organised. And yet it is clear both from the elaborate 'introductory frame' and also from the historical circumstances, that Heresies B in some sense came first. In 1528, More though a layman was commissioned by his good friend and fellow humanist Cuthbert Tunstall, then bishop of London (and later of Durham), to write in defence of the Catholic faith. 40 No doubt More and Tunstall, as the `semi-fictional' account of the Preface suggests, discussed what matters More should address in writing in defence of the Church. The list was in all probability similar to that presented by the Messenger in his `credence' outlined above, though it may have also included other matters such as the doctrine of Purgatory that More was to address in his later polemical works. However, More seems to have felt the need also to include a general defence of the whole system of Catholic beliefs then coming under renewed attack from English Lutherans, like Tyndale. Clearly, Heresies A is no afterthought in the way that Hexter has tried to argue in connection with Book I of Utopia. 41 Heresies A is too tightly and coherently organised to be a later addition. It takes up more than half of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and makes the discussion that follows in Heresies B seem almost anticlimactic. More may have already conceived the need for such a general defence independently of Cuthbert Tunstall's commission and of the matters treated in Heresies B. Far from being an afterthought, More, who in real life was fond of surprising his friends and playing jokes on them, deliberately set out to surprise his readers and catch them offguard by giving them more than they bargained for—as he also The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 145 did with Utopia I. 4.3.2. Definitions of Heresy and Orthodoxy and The Image of Love (I: 2) The 'dialogue' proper in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies begins with important definitions of "heresy" and "orthodoxy" that will be crucial for everything that follows. After affirming his own orthodoxy (37/30-34), Chancellor More starts off by defining heresy as "a secte and a syde way (taken by any parte of suche as ben baptysed / and bere the name of crysten men) from the comen fayth and byleue of the hole chyrche besyde" (37/35-38/2). To this Chancellor More adds an equally important definition of orthodoxy. He appeals to the sensus fidelium, 'the consensus of the faithful', and particularly the writings of the Church Fathers, as the basis for defining orthodoxy: For this [ie. the common faith and belief of Christ's Church, cf. 37/34] am I very sure and perceyue it well / not onely by experyens of myne owne tyme / & ye places where my selfe hath ben / with comen report of other honest men / from al other places of crystendom / but by bokes also & remembrauncys left of long tyme with wrytyng of ye olde holy fathers / and now sayntes in heuen / yt from ye appostles tyme hytherto / this maner hath ben vsed / taught and alowed / and the contrary commonly condempned / thrughe the hole flocke of all good crysten people. (CW 6, 38/2-10) The definition of heresy given above is crucial for the discussion of Heresies A l and eventually for Heresies B, while the definition of orthodoxy as the sensus fidelium is crucial to Chancellor More's defence of Catholic orthodoxy, and of the equal value (as divine Revelation) to be given both to the oral tradition of the Church and the written scriptures. Chancellor More begins his discussion of heresy by dealing with the contemporary attack on the veneration of images (Heresies A l starts at this point at 38/11). It was a good place to begin since the question of images was central to the earlier Lollard attack on the Church in the late Middle Ages, 42 and was one of the central issues at the heart of the Reformation debate. Indeed, More's work has itself sometimes been referred to as the The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 146 "Dialogue of Images." 43 Chancellor More starts by arguing that the scriptural passages quoted by heretics as proof texts to condemn the worship of images 44 actually condemn the worship of pagan idols, and not the veneration of Christian saints. He then cites the example of various Church Fathers who "vnderstode those textes / as well as dyd those heretyques" (38/24-25). 45 However, at this point in the second edition of 1531, More made an important addition to the text (39/26-47/22) 46 that results in postponing the real beginning of Heresies A l to the next chapter. The material added in the 1531 edition becomes in effect a 'prologue' to the argument that follows, starting in Chapter 3. The addition deals with the attack on images contained in the mildly heretical The Image of Love, written by the Observant Franciscan John Ryckes (d. 1532), and first published anonymously in 1525. 47 Following his usual custom in his polemical works, More refrains from naming his opponent (although he apparently knew who he was). The discussion of attack on images in The Image of Love, serves as a microcosm of or preparation for the much larger treatment of heresies in Heresies A l and Heresies B. The 1531 addition opens with Chancellor More asking whether "these heretyques", when they mention the name of Jesus, hold it in honour and reverence or not. If they do, then: syth that name of Iesus is nothyng els but a worde / whiche by wrytyng or by voyce representeth vnto the herer the person of our sauyour Chryst / fayne wolde I wytte of these heretyques / yf they gyue honour to ye name of our lorde / whiche name is but an ymage representynge his person to mannes mynde and ymagynacyon / why and with what reason can they dyspyse a fygure of hym carued or paynted / whiche representeth hym and his actes / farre more playne and more expressely. (CW 6, 39/32-40/5) More argues, in terms reminiscent of the great mediaeval (Realist vs. Nominalist) debate on the relationship between res and verba, that an image may be a more accurate representation of a thing than a word. The Messenger replies by criticising the riches spent The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 147 on making images and statues, and quotes The Image of Love as saying that images are laymen's books, and that religious men should abandon all such dead images. The author of The Image of Love also condemns the cost of church ornaments, and states that the money so used were better spent on the poor. Chancellor More replies by declaring that though the author of The Image of Love was well-intentioned, he was carried away by his fervour and wrote ill-advisedly. Though holy bishops have sometimes relieved the poor through the sale of church vessels and plate, from earliest times churches have been ornamented with precious metals and chalices made from gold and silver, and not from wood. When Solomon used gold to furnish the Temple, there were many poor people in Israel and the furnishings of the Temple were not broken up again and the gold given to the poor. The Messenger replies by quoting the argument of The Image of Love that all those things in the Old Testament were gross and carnal, and that Christians should leave off worshipping God with gold and silver, and serve him instead only with spiritual things. Chancellor More counters the argument that religion is purely spiritual by citing the example of the Old Testament patriarchs and of Christ himself on the need for outward devotion: For as for ye good godly man Moyses / he thought yt to pray not onely in mynde / but with mouth also was a good way. The good kynge Dauyd thought it plesaunt to god / not onely to pray with his mouth / but also to synge & daunce to / to goddes honoure / and blamed his folysshe wyfe / whyche dyd at yt tyme as these folysshe heretyques do nowe / mockynge that bodyly seruyce. Holy saynt Iohan ye Baptyst not onely / baptysed & preched / but also fasted / watched / prayed and ware here [a hairshirt]. Cryst our sauyour hym selfe / not onely prayed in mynd / but also with mouth / which kynde of prayer these holy spyrytuall heretyques nowe call lyppe laboure in mockage. (CW 6, 44/6-17) The Messenger responds that the use of rich ornaments in church and other such bodily ceremonies are, as the Image of Love calls them, shadows of the Old Law. Chancellor More replies that the Old Testament prohibition was meant as a condemnation of the idols of the The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 148 pagans, and that not all images were condemned since the Jews had images of the Cherubim in the Temple. After repeating the traditional teaching of the Church on the difference between the reverence offered to an image (dulia) and that offered to God alone (latria), which becomes an important motif running throughout the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, Chancellor More returns to the defence of images as "lay mennes bokes": all the wordes that be eyther wrytten or spoken / be but ymages representyng the thynges that ye wryter or speker conceyueth in his mynde: lykewyse as the fygure of the thynge framed with ymagynacyon and so conceyued in the mynde / is but an ymage representyng the very thyng it selfe that a man thynketh on. (CW 6, 46/14-18) More's view of language is very similar to that put forward by Plato in the Phaedrus, 48 except that Chancellor More puts more emphasis on visual imagery. For Plato there are only the spoken and written words and the "idea", but for More, following Aristotle and Aquinas here, 49 there is also the image, which can be a more effectual representation of a thing than any word spoken or written: then is the wrytyng not the name it selfe / but an ymage representyng ye name. And yet all these names spoken / and all these wordes wrytten / be no naturall sygnes or ymages but onely made by consent and agrement of men / to betoken and sygnyfye suche thynge / where as ymages paynted / grauen / or carued / may be so well wrought and so nere to the quycke and to ye trouth / that they shall naturally / and moche more effectually represent the thynge then shall the name eyther spoken or wrytten. For he that neuer herde the name of your mayster [the Friend] / shall yf euer he sawe hym be brought in a ryght full remembraunce of hym by his ymage well wrought and touched to the quycke. And surely sauynge that men can not do it / els if it myght commodyously be done / there were not in this worlde so effectuall wrytyng as were to expresse all thyng in ymagery. (CW 6, 46/25-47/3) Chancellor More then goes on to argue that an image of the crucifix is more effective in calling the image of Christ's passion to mind than the words "Christus crucifixus" (47/15), and that the real reason that heretics destroy images is to quench devotion in men's hearts The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 149 rather than to inflame it. At this point the 1531 addition ends, and Chancellor More concludes Chapter 2 by pointing out that the heretics who condemn the veneration of God's servants, the saints, and claim that God alone should be venerated, do not hesitate to give honour to earthly rulers, and even to their servants. Regarding church ornaments, God himself has given mankind enough riches both to ornament churches and also to give money to the poor. 4.3.3. On Saints, Images, Miracles and Pilgrimages (I: 3-17) (A 1 ) After reminding Chancellor More that he is repeating the opinions of others, the Messenger goes on to attack pilgrimages: "But ouer this it semeth to smell of ydolatry / whan we go on pylgrymage to this place and that place / As thoughe god were not lyke stronge or not lyke present in euery place" (52/10-13). He argues that when we invoke one image of Our Lord or Our Lady over another that it is a sure sign that we put more trust in the image than in Our Lord or Our Lady. Chancellor More responds by arguing that: the flocke of tryst is not so folysshe as those heretyques bere them in hande / that where as there is no dogge so madde / but he knoweth a very cony [rabbit] from a cony carued & paynted / crysten peple yt haue reason in theyr heddes / & therto the lyght of fayth in theyr soulys / shold wene that thymages of our lady were our lady her selfe. Nay they be not I trust so madde / but they do reuerence to thymage for the honour of the person whom it representyth / as euery man delytyth in thymage and remembraunce of his frende. (CW 6, 56/10-18) He goes on to argue that though the Christian believer may have a remembrance of Christ's Passion in his mind that: "he fyndyth hymselfe more mouyd to pyte and compassyon / vpon the beholdynge of the holy crucyfyxe / than whan he lackyth it" (56/22-24). Chancellor More also replies to the Messenger's attack on pilgrimages that though God is everywhere, this did not prevent him from choosing to be present in a special way to the Israelites in the desert under the form of a cloud by day and a pillar of fire by night, and also to be present in a special way in the Arc of the Covenant and the Temple of Jerusalem. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 150 When the Messenger objects, quoting the Gospel (cf. John 4:20-24), that "very worshyppers sholde worshyp in spyryte / and in truthe / not in the hyll or in Ierusalem / or any other temple of stone" (57/29-30), Chancellor More replies: I wolde well agre / that no temple of stone was vnto god so pleasaunt / as the temple of mannes harte / But yet that nothynge letteth or withstandeth / but that god vvyll / that his crysten people haue in sundry places / sundry temples and chyrches / to whiche they sholde besyde theyr pryuat prayers assemble solemply / and resorte in company to worshyp hym togyder / such as dwell so nere togyder / that they may conuenyently resorte to one place. (CW 6, 57/31-58/2) The Messenger then asks why God would "set more by one place than by another" (60/9). To which Chancellor More replies that, though he did not know why, he was sure that God's "pleasure in some place is / to shewe more his assystence / and to be more specyally sought vnto / than in some other" (60/17-19). The Messenger asks how he can be so sure of that and Chancellor More replies that God "hath proued my parte in dyuers pylgrymages by the workyng of many mo than a thousande myracles / one tyme and other" (60/28-29). He goes on to develop the argument from miracles further: But whan so euer our lorde bath in any place wrought a myracle / all though he nothyng do it for the place / but for the honour of that saynt / whom he wyll haue honoured in that place / or for the fayth that he findeth with some that prayeth in that place / or for the encrease of fayth / which he fyndeth fallynge and decayed in that place / nedynge the shewe of some myracles for the reuyuyng / what so euer the cause be / yet I thynke the affeccyon is to be commended of men and women / that with good deuocyon ronne thyther / where they se or here that our lorde sheweth a demonstracyon of hys specyall assystence. And whan he sheweth many in one place / it is a good token / that he wolde be sought vpon / and worsshypped there. (CW 6, 61/5-16) The Messenger immediately objects to Chancellor More's argument that the force of his argument depends on the evidence of miracles, and suggests that the miracles may be lies or the work of the Devil. To which Chancellor More replies that the force of his argument The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 151 depends not on miracles, but on the faith of Christ's Church: "by the common consent wherof these matters be decyded & well knowen that ye worshyp of sayntes and ymages ben alowed / approbate / and accustomed for good crysten and merytoryous vertues" (62/18-22). The Messenger counters by raising a new argument that, miracles are contrary to "reason and nature," and that he will not believe the reports of honest men, be they never so many or so credible "where as reason and nature (of whiche twayne euery one ys alone more credyble then they all) sheweth me playnly yt theyr tale is vntrew / as it must nedys / yf the matter be impossyble / as it is in all these myracles" (64/18-21). Chancellor More responds that some things are true even though they seem contrary to "nature and reason." For example, if a "man of Inde", i.e. an Ethiopian, 49a had never seen a white man, he might suppose that it were contrary to "reason and nature" for man to be white. In such a case "who were in the wronge / he that byleueth his reason and nature / or they yt agaynst his perswasyon of reason and nature shall tell hym as it is of trouthe?" (65/8-11). He then gives several more examples such as the making of glass from fern roots, or the separating of gold from silver with a "fair water", or the drawing of a piece of gilted silver into a rod several yards long. The Messenger refuses to believe these examples. Chancellor More then promises to bring forward ten or twenty witnesses to confirm his report. The Messenger insists in a typically rationalist fashion on claiming infallible authority for his own subjective reason: If they were quod he .x. thousande / they were worn out of credence with me / whan they sholde tell me that they sawe the thynge that my selfe knoweth by nature and reason vnpossyble. For whan I knowe it coulde not be done / I knowe well that they lye all / be they neuer so many that say thet sawe it done. (CW 6, 68/20-24) Chancellor More claims to have seen these other examples himself, and promises to bring the Messenger the next day to where two trusty witnesses, his own eyes, can confirm the The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 152 example of the drawing out of the piece of gilt silver. The Messenger replies that, unlike these earlier examples, "reason and nature techeth me surely / that myracles be thynges that can not be done" (71/7-8). Chancellor More denies this by arguing that, on the contrary, nature and reason show that there is a God who is almighty, and who can work miracles that cannot be done by nature. Just as Chancellor More and the Messenger have fundamentally different understandings of the nature of "reason" (consensual vs. private), 50 so also do they differ radically in their understanding of the nature of "nature". The Messenger argues further that reason shows us that: god hath set all thynges all redy fro the fyrst creacyon to go forthe in a certayne order and course / whiche order and course men call nature / & that bath he of his infynyte wysdome done so well / and prouyded yt course to go forth in suche a maner and fassyon / that it can not be mended. (CW 6, 74/11-15) God will never work anything against the course of nature, which he has already made "in so goodly an order / that it were not possyble to be better / and ye goodnes of god wyll make no chaunge to ye worse" (74/23-25). Chancellor More argues, on the other hand, that reason shows that though God has made all things good, it does not prove that they were "wrought to the vtterest poynt of souerayne goodnes" (74/32-33), for infinite perfection is found only in the Trinity. In working miracles, God does nothing contrary to nature, but does "some specyall benefyte aboue nature" (75/16). Being almighty, God can do all things, "& in doing of myracles he doth [them] for ye better" (75/18-19). The Messenger remains unconvinced, however, and stubbornly sticks to his position. He refuses to believe in miracles, "For I spake neuer yet with any man that coulde tell me that euer he sawe any" (75/31-32). Chancellor More replies that among so many reports of miracles in every nation, both Christian and heathen, there must be some that are true, especially the ones mentioned in the scripture: "And syth ye be a crysten man and receyue The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 153 scrypture I myght in this matter quod I / haue choked you longe a go / with the manyfolde myracles and meruayls that be shewed there" (76/34-36). The Messenger backs down and admits "that god hath besyde the comen course of nature wrought many myracles" (77/9-10), but goes on to question "all suche as men say now adayes be done at dyuers pylgrymagys by dyuers sayntys or dyuers ymagys" (77/19-20). The Messenger clearly wants to have his cake and eat it too, on the one hand by accepting biblical miracles, but on the other hand by rejecting miracles done at pilgrimage shrines. 51 Chancellor More repeats his earlier defence of miracles as being only impossible to nature, but certainly possible to God. He then goes on to describe some natural miracles such as the "miracle of birth" or the ebbing and flowing of the tides. We only take these things for granted because they happen so commonly. In what is possibly an anticipation of modern coronary heart resuscitation, he then declares that there is no cause why we sholde of reason more meruayle of the reuyuyng of a dede man / than of the bredynge / bryngynge forth and growynge of a chylde vnto the state of a man.... And I am sure / yf ye saw dede men as commenly called agayne by myracle / as ye se men brought forth by nature / ye wolde reken it lesse meruayle to bryng the soule agayne into the body / kepynge yet styli his shappe and his organys not moche perysshyd / than of a lytell seede to make all that gere newe / and make a new soule therto. (CW 6, 80/12-21). God does not need our advice on when or where he should work miracles. The Messenger next goes on to argue that the miracles done at pilgrimage shrines are all pious frauds. Chancellor More replies by arguing that though pious frauds sometimes are perpetrated, that God always brings them to light in the end. He then denies that there is any difference between biblical miracles and the miracles done at pilgrimage shrines, and cites the writings of the Church Fathers, who all reported the occurrence of miracles in their times. Chancellor More then concludes: And where ye saye that of myracles many be nowe a dayes fayned / so The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 154 may it be that some were than also / but neyther than nor nowe neyther / were nor be all fayned. And any beynge trewe all were they ryght fewe / suffysed for our purpose.... (CW 6, 90/19-22) Thus, it is a mistake to condemn all miracles done at pilgrimage shrines just because some are false. The Messenger then returns again to his earlier attack on images (cf. Chap. 2). He first repeats the teaching of the Schools on images: And therfore ye scoles as I here saye deuyse a treble dyfference in worshyppyng / callyng the one dulya the reuerence or worshyp that man doth to man / as ye bonde man to the lorde. The seconde yperdulya that a man doth to a more excellent creature as to aungels or sayntes. The thyrde latria the veneracyon honoure and adoracyon that creatures dothe onely to god. (CW 6, 97/26-33) He goes on to assert that the veneration offered to images corresponds to the highest form of worship (latria): For what doo we to god when we do worshyp hym in that fassyon that they call latria / but we do the same to sayntes and ymages bothe? yf it stande in knelyng / we knele to sayntes and theyr ymages / yf in prayenge / we pray as bytterly to them as to god. If in sensynge and settynge vp of candels / we cense them also and set some saynt .vii. candelles agaynst god one. So that what so euer fassyon of worshyppynge latria be / the same is as largely done to sayntes and ymages as to god. (CW 6, 98/2-9) The Messenger then claims that the common people put their trust in images instead of the saints themselves or God. At this point Chancellor More postpones any further discussion of miracles, and begins an extended discussion of the relationship between the oral tradition of the Church and the written scriptures, and of Catholic orthodoxy—this is the matter of Heresies A 2 , which begins with Book I, Chap. 18 and ends with Book II, Chap. 7. The defence of images, pilgrimages, saints, and miracles (Heresies A 1 ) is resumed again in Book II, Chap. 8. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 155 4.3.4. On Scripture and the Oral Tradition of the Church (E18-31) (A 2 ) Chancellor More praises the Messenger for his steadfast defence of his position: "ye haue not fayntly defended your parte" (101/13-14), but have said "moche more than I haue herde of any man els / or coulde haue sayd of my selfe" (101/19-20). However, he puts the Messenger's objections to miracles aside for the time and turns to the twin issues of the authority of the written scriptures and of the oral tradition of the Church. The Messenger grants that the Church cannot stand without faith and that: no man wyll denye but yt fayth is & alway shalbe in his [Christ's] chyrche. And that his chyrche not in fayth onely and the knowlege of the truthes necessary to be knowen for our soule helth / but also to ye doynge of good workys & auoydyng of euyls / is / hath ben and euer shall be specyally gyded and gouerned by god and the secrete inspyracyon of his holy spyryte. (CW 6, 111/5-10) Chancellor More responds by arguing that if the Church has faith it cannot err either by failing to believe all that is necessary to believe in order to be saved, or on the other hand by believing in false doctrine. He goes on to claim that if the Church accepted the veneration of saints as lawful, though it were indeed unpleasant to God, then that would be a form of idolatry and show a lack of proper faith. Since the Messenger, for all his gusto in reporting various heretical opinions, is a Catholic layman, he accepts that "the chyrche can not erre in the ryght fayth necessary to be byleued" (112/9-10). Chancellor More concludes that it follows from this that: the chyrche in yt it byleueth sayntes to be prayed vnto / relyques and ymages to be worshypped / & pylgrymages to be vysyted & sought / is not dysceyued nor dothe not erre / but that the byleue of the chyrche is trewe therin. And therupon also foloweth that ye wonderfull workes done aboue nature / at suche ymages & pylgrymages / at holy relyques by prayers made vnto sayntes / be not done by ye deuyll to delude the chyrche of Cryst therwith / syth the thynge yt the chyrche doth / is well done & not Idolatry. But by the great honour done vnto sayntes / god hymselfe the more hyghly honoured / in yt his seruauntes haue so moche honoure for his sake. And therof foloweth it / that hym selfe maketh the myracles in comprobacyon therof. (CW 6, 112/13-24) The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 156 Though the Messenger accepts Chancellor More's argument, he raises the objection that God is present with the Church mainly in scripture, that God "hath gyuen them and lefte with them the scrypture / in whiche they may suffycyently se / both what they sholde byleue / and what they sholde do" (113/27-29), and that they may "se all that them nedyth yf they wyll loke and labour therM" (113/31-32). The Messenger argues that just as Moses and the Prophets left their books behind them, so also God is present with his Church in the holy scriptures. To which Chancellor More replies that if the Messenger is correct then the words of Christ were somewhat strangely spoken "For Cryst lefte neuer a booke behynde hym of his owne makyng / as Moyses dyd and the prophetes" (114/32-33), and that when Christ spoke these words the New Testament was not yet written. He adds further: For where our lorde sayth that his wordes shall not passe away / nor one iote therof be lost / he spake of his promyses made in dede / as his fayth and doctryne taught by mouth and inspyracyon. He mente not that of his holy scrypture in wrytynge there sholde neuer a iote be lost / of whiche some partes be all redy lost / more peraduenture than we call tell of. And of that we haue the bokes in some parte corrupted with mysse wrytynge. And yet the substaunce of those wordes that he mente ben knowen / where some parte of ye wrytynge is vnknowen. (CW 6, 115/18-27) The Holy Spirit has taught many things, such as the perpetual virginity of Our Lady, which are not contained in scripture: "And thus with secreet helpe and inspyracyon is Cryst with his chyrche / and wyll be to the worldes ende present and assystent. Not onely spoken of in wrytynge" (116/9-11). The Holy Spirit guides the Church and protects it from error in interpreting scripture: He sayd not that the holy goste sholde at his commyng wryte them all trouth / nor tell them all the hole trouth by mouth / but that he shold by secret inspyracion lede them into all trouth. And therfore surely for a trew conclusyon in suche meanys by god hym selfe / by the helpe of his grace (as your selfe graunteth) ye ryght vnderstandynge of scrypture / is euer preserued in his chyrche from all suche mystakyng / wherof myght folow any damnable errour concernyng the fayth. (CW 6, 119/14-21) The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 157 After condemning heretical preachers who take the Bible as their sole guide, Chancellor More reaffirms his own devotion to scripture. Human learning, however, has value as well and is not to be cast away, but is worthy to serve as a handmaid to theology. However, the best part of theology is contained in scripture. The writings of the Church Fathers have special value for interpreting scripture. In addition, reason and faith are two good rules for interpreting doubtful texts. When any text of scripture seems to be contrary to the articles of the faith of the Church, then the interpreter should follow the rule laid down by St. Augustine: let hym then as saynt Augustyne saythe / make hym selfe very sure yt there is some fawte eyther in the translatour / or in the wryter / or nowe a dayes in the prynter / or fynally that for some one let [hindrance] or other he vnderstandeth it not a ryght. And so let hym reuerently knowlege his ignoraunce / lene and cleue to the fayth of the chyrche as to an vndoutyd trouthe / leuynge that texte to be better perceyuyd whan it shall please our lorde wyth hys lyght to reuele and dysclose it. (CW 6, 127/29-128/2) The Messenger objects that reason is an enemy to faith. Chancellor More replies that though God's grace is an important aid in interpreting scripture, God also makes use of man's reason. Reason in turn needs to be trained and developed: "reason is by study / labour and exercyse of Logyk / Phylosophy and other lyberall artes corroborate and quyckened / and ye iudgement bothe in them and also in oratours / lawes & storyes moche ryped" (132/6-11). For More the word of God is primarily a spoken word. The law of Christ's faith consists not only of the words written in the books of the Evangelists, but also the substance of the faith which Our Lord said he would write in men's hearts. Christ "fyrste without wrytynge reueled those heuenly mysteryes by hys blessyd mouth / thorowe the eres of his appostles and dyscyples in to theyr holy hartes" (143/12-14). The faith of Christ came to the apostles: fyrste without wrytynge by onely wordes and prechynge / so was it spredde abrode in the worlde / that his fayth was by the mouthes of his holy The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 158 messengers put in to mennes eres / & by his holy hande wrytten in mennes hartes or [before] euer any worde therof almost was wrytten in the boke. And so was it conuenyent for the lawe of lyfe / rather to be wrytten in the lyuely myndes of men / than in ye dede skynnes of bestes. And I nothynge doubte / but all had it so ben / that neuer gospell hadde ben wrytten / yet sholde the substaunce of this fayth neuer haue fallen out of crysten folkes hartes / but the same spyryte that planted it / the same sholde haue watered it / the same shold haue kepte it / ye same shold haue encreased it. (CIV 6, 143/30-144/7) No evangelist or apostle "by wrytynge euer sente the faythe to any nacyon / but yf they were furste enformyd by worde" (144/26-27). The apostles and evangelists also taught many things orally that were not committed to writing. Christ's word "nedeth none other authoryte but hym selfe / but is to be byleued and obeyed / be it wrytten or not wrytten" (147/34-35). St. Paul also commanded the Thessalonians to keep the traditions that he had handed on to them whether orally or in writing. Chancellor More asks the Messenger whether the faith of the Church is the Word of God spoken by God to the Church. The Messenger replies that God speaks to his Church in scripture, to which Chancellor More responds: "And is nothyng goddes wordys quod I but scrypture? The wordes that god spake to Moyses were they not goddes wordys all / tyll they were wryten? And ye wordes of Cryst to his apostles were they not his wordys tyll they were wryten?" (155/4-7). The Messenger continues to insist, however, that Christ has revealed his will sufficiently in holy scriptures. Chancellor More at this point gets very frustrated with the Messenger's obtuseness, and points out various things, such as the change of the sabbath day to Sunday and the perpetual virginity of Our Lady about which nothing is mentioned in scriptures. He next raises the issue of the existence of contradictions between various places in scripture, and also between various interpretations of the same passage. The Messenger suggests prayer and drawing lots as ways of choosing between two interpretations. Chancellor More argues in turn that since Christ bids us believe and obey his Church: therefore are we bounden not onely to byleue agaynste oure owne reason / The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 159 the poyntes that god sheweth vs in scrypture / but also that god techeth his chyrche without scrypture & agaynst our owne mynde also / to gyue dylygent herynge / ferme credence / and faythfull obedyence to the chyrche of Cryst / concernynge the sence and vnderstandynge of holy scrypture. Not doubtyng but syth he hath commaunded his shepe to be fedde / he hathe prouyded for them holesome mete and trewe doctryne. (CW 6, 166/15-23) The Messenger is not convinced and the two of them argue back and forth inconclusively. Chancellor More asserts that "the chyrche alwayes hath and alwayes shall haue the knowledge and byleue of suche thynges as god wyll haue it bounden to byleue" (174/31-33). To which the Messenger replies: "god hath lefte holy scrypture to the chyrche / and therein is all / and the chyrche byleueth that to be trewe" (174/34-35), and furthermore that in the scriptures the Church has "warnynge and lernyng of goddes pleasure that ye speke of / without whiche it can not endure" (175/1-2). Chancellor More is just about ready to throw his hands up: "Are ye there yet agayne quod I?" (175/3). The argument is clearly going round in circles at this point. He goes on to emphasize the role of the Holy Spirit in guiding the Church, and keeping it free from error: Loo oure lorde sayd not that the holy goost sholde wryte vnto his chyrche all trouthe / but that he sholde lede them by secrete inspyracyon and inclynacyon of theyr hartes in to all trouthe / in whiche muste nedes be conceyued bothe informacyon and ryghte byleue of euery necessary artycle / and of the ryght and trew sense of holy scrypture / as far as shall be requysyte to conserue ye chyrch from any dampnable errour. (CW 6, 178/23-29) More is unusual, as a sixteenth century author, in putting so much emphasis on the role of the Holy Spirit. It has not been sufficiently recognised by modern critics just how organic More's conception of the Church is. Hence, the importance also of consensus, the "common corps of Crystendom" of More's English writings. 52 Chancellor More then raises the question, which has so disturbed modern Protestant Biblical criticism, of the authenticity of the authorship of the books of the New Testament: Whyche gospell telleth you that Cryste was borne of a vyrgyn? ^The The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 160 gospell of saynt Luke quod he. How knowe you that quod I? For I rede it so quod he in the boke. Ye rede quod I suche a boke. But howe knowe you that saynt Luke made it? How knowe I quod he other bokys / but by that they here the names of theyr authors wrytten vppon them? Knowe you it well therby quod I? Many bokes be there that haue false inscrypcyons / and are not the bokes of theym that they be named by. (CW 6, 180/1-12) The Messenger responds that even if the Church did mistake the name of the evangelist, that nonetheless the gospel is true. Chancellor More responds by asking him how he knows that the scriptures are true. The Messenger is forced to admit that we believe in the scriptures because the Church has always done so. Chancellor More reiterates his point: For were it not for the spyryte of god kepynge the trouthe therof in his chyrche / who coulde be sure whiche were ye very gospels? There were many that wrote the gospell. And yet hath the chyrche by secrete instinct of god / reiected ye remenaunt & chosen out these foure / for the sure vndoubted trewe. (CW 6, 181/12-17) He then proceeds to demolish the Messenger's argument that we should believe nothing that the Church teaches unless it can be proved from scripture by pointing out that we could not believe the scriptures unless they had been approved by the judgement and tradition of the Church. The Messenger remains as obtuse and argumentative as ever and refuses to accept Chancellor More's proofs. In frustration, Chancellor More responds by reminding the Messenger of the guidance of the Holy Spirit: haue we so sone forgotten the perpetuall assystence of the trynyte in his chyrche / and the prayour of Cryst to kepe the fayth of his chyrche fro faylynge / and the holy gost sente of purpose to kepe in the chyrche the remembraunce of Crystys wordys and to lede them into all trouthe? (CW 6, 182/12-16) Book I ends without any real resolution and with the Messenger still refusing to accept any of Chancellor More's proofs. He says that he has another argument of his own that "tournyth vs yet in to as moche vncertayntye as we were in before" (185/28-29). When Chancellor More asks him what it is, the Messenger suggests they dine instead: The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 161 Nay quod he it were better ye dyne fyrste. My lady- 53 wyll I wene be angry with me / that I kepe you so longe therfro. For I holde it nowe well towarde twelue. And yet more angry wolde waxe with me / yf I sholde make you syt & muse at your mete / as ye wolde I wote well muse on the matter yf ye wyste what it were. (CW 6, 185/33-186/2) Chancellor More then invites the Messenger to join him for dinner. 4.3.5. On the True Church of Christ (II: 1-7) (A 2 ) After the dinner is over they walk in the garden, and Chancellor More asks the Messenger "what thynge myght that be / that made our long forenone processe frustrat / and lefte vs as vncertayne as we beganne" (187/14-15). After summarizing the argument of Book I, the Messenger raises the objection that is to be central to Book II that a man, who "byleued the worshyp of ymages to be wronge and vnlawfull" (189/11-12), might argue that the Church is "the people that byleueth as he byleueth / that is to wytte / all these kyndes of worshyppe to be wronge / and that byleueth theym whome ye take for the chyrche to byleue wronge" (189/18-20). To which Chancellor More in turn objects: "If he and his company quod I be the chyrche / he muste tell where his felawes be" (189/21-22). The Messenger suggests that the Church consists of those whom Chancellor More calls heretics. Chancellor More replies that they cannot all be the Church, because the Church has one belief and one faith, and that, whereas the faith of the Church has always lasted, the sects of the heretics have quickly decayed. The Messenger replies that the Church can be found in Bohemia and Saxony, among the Hussites and Lutherans. Chancellor More objects that "amonge all the Lutheranes there be as many heddes as many wyttes" (192/10-11), and that in Bohemia there is: One fayth in the towne / another in the felde. One in prage / another in the nexte towne. And yet in prage it selfe one faythe in one strete / an other in the nexte. So that yf ye assygne it in Boheme / ye muste tell in what towne. And yf ye name a towne / yet must ye tell in what strete. (CW 6, 192/16-20) The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 162 It is significant that as late as 1528-29, when More was writing the first edition of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, it was still possible to see the new Lutheran movement as yet another brand of late mediaeval heresy along the lines of the Lollards and the Hussites. The Messenger then suggests the Lutheran position that the Church consists of those predestined to be saved, wherever they are scattered. The Messenger goes on to argue that the Church is "all suche as byleue a ryght and lyue well where so euer they be / though the worlde knowe them not / and thoughe fewe of them knowe eche other" (198/8-11). Chancellor More replies that: the chyrche of Cryste is a chyrche well knowen. And his pleasure was to haue it knowen and not hyd. And it is bylded vpon so hygh an hyll of yt holy stone / I meane vpon cryste hym selfe / that it can not be hyd. Non potest abscondi ciuitas supra montem posita. The cyte can not be hyd that is set on an hyll. And he wolde haue his fayth dyuulged & spredde abrode openly / not alway whyspered in hukermoker [secrecy]. (CW 6, 202/26-33) He goes on to assert that "The chyrche therfore must nedys be the comen knowen multytude of crysten men good and bad togyther / whyle the chyrche is here in erth" (205/4-7). Our Lord in "his mystycall body of his churche / caryeth his membres / some seke / some hole / & all sekely" (205/25-26). Though many of the members of the Church may be sinners, "ye warmnes of grace goyng thorowe this hole mystycall body of Crystes chyrch myght gete yet & kepe some lyfe in them" (205/32-34). However, on the Day of Judgement: than shall all these scalde & scabbed peces scale clene of / & ye hole body of Crystes holy chyrch remayne pure / clene & gloryous / without wem [spot] / wrincle or spot / which is (& for ye whyle I wene wyl be / as long as she is here) as scabed as euer was Iob / & yet her louyng spouse leueth her not / but contynually goth about by many maner medycynes / some bytter some swete / some easy some greuous / some plesaunt / some paynfull to cure her. (CW 6, 206/3-10) One sees once again More's essential humaneness and catholicity. More emphasizes that the church is at once the "Mystical Body of Christ" and also "as scabed as euer was Iob", The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 163 because of the sins of its members. Chancellor More goes on to define the church as "this company & congregacyon of all these nacyons / yt without faccyons taken / & precysyon [cutting off] from ye remenaunt / professe ye name & fayth of Cryst" (206/20-23). It is by this Church that we know the scriptures. However numerous the number of heretics: "ye heretykes be they yt be seuered / & ye chyrch ye stok yt all they cam out of" (207/6-7). Only the Church of Christ is "ye vyne yt cryst spake of in ye gospell / which he taketh for his body mystycall" (207/8-9). All the branches of heretics fallen away from ye vyne of crystes mystycal body / seme they neuer so freshe & grene / be yet in dede but witherlinges that wyther / & shall drye vp / able to serue for nothyng / but for the fyre. (CW 6, 207/11-14) With this point the discussion of Heresies A 2 is finally brought to a conclusion. 4.3.6. More on Images, Relics, Saints and Pilgrimages (II: 8-12) (A 1 ) After appealing to the authority of the Ecumenical Councils of the Church which approved the worship of images, Chancellor More returns to the matter of Book I, Chapters 3-17 (i.e. Heresies A i ), again to defend the veneration of saints. He begins by repeating the attacks made by heretics against honouring the saints: Fyrst they put in doute whyther sayntys can here vs. And yf they do / yet whyther they can helpe vs. And fynally yf they coulde / yet wolde [wish] they we shold thynke it foly to desyre them / bycause god can do it better and wyll do it soner hym selfe than they all. (CW 6, 211/17-20) He replies to these charges that since the saints while they were on earth were moved by the intercessions of others, now that they are in heaven they are hardly likely to show "lesse loue & charyte to men yt nede theyr helpe" (211/24). If while on earth the saints were free to help others "wene [suppose] we yt in heuen they stande tyed to a post?" (213/8). The Messenger accepts Chancellor More's arguments but objects: "Yet se I quod he The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 164 no cause or nede why we sholde pray to theym / syth god can as well and wyll as gladly / both here vs and helpe vs / as any saynt in heuen" (214/11-13). Chancellor More replies by asking him what need there is for a doctor in sickness "syth god can here you and helpe you both / as wel as the best / and loueth you better and can do it soner" (214/15-17). The Messenger responds, "this is his pleasure quod he / that I shall be holpen by the meane of theym as his instrumentys" (214/20-21), to which Chancellor More replies "So hath it quod I pleased god in lyke wyse / that we shall aske helpe of his holy sayntes / and praye for helpe to them" (214/24-25). More's defence of the veneration of the saints is clearly rooted in his two-fold understanding of the Church as a community—the Communion of saints of traditional Catholic theology and the "Common Corps of Christendom". God the Father has given all judgement to his Son, and Christ delights "to haue his holy sayntes parteners of that honoure / and at the daye of ludgement to haue theym syt with hym" (214/31-33). Christ was content that his apostles were sometimes "prayed to be intercessours to theyr mayster" (215/8-9) while he was on earth and confirmed it through the miracles they worked: And thynke you than / that he beynge content and gyuynge men occasyon to pray to theym whyle they were wyth hym in erthe / he wyll be angry yf we doo them as moche worshyp whan they be with hym in heuyn? (CW 6, 215/11-14). The saints are God's special friends and it behooves us to make friends with those God has in his favour. The Messenger objects that some of the relics of the saints are false: "And therfore is it lykely some where a bone worshypped for a relyke of some holy saynt / that was perad- uenture a bone as Chaucer saythe of some holy Iewes shepe" (217/20-23). Chancellor More replies that in the matter of the veneration of saints and relics: the grace and ayde of god and his holy spyryte assystynge his chyrche The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 165 bath gouerned ye iudgement of his mynysters / and enclyned the myndes of his people to suche consent. And that he bath not suffered them to erre in a thynge so nerely touchynge his honour & worshyp. (CW 6, 220/36-221/4) Though some relics may be doubtful and some names forgotten or mistaken, God is "well contente that the relyques be had in reuerence / syth he specyally fauoureth theyr persons [through miracles] / and nedeth nothyng theyr names to knowe them by" (223/1-3). Even if we mistake animal bones for holy relics it does no harm to those who make the mistake, but God will not allow such mistaken relics to last and endure in his Church. The assistance of God and the guidance of the Holy Spirit keep the Church free from error in matters of faith: For els myght the chyrche be moost easely begyled in the receyuynge of the very scrypture / wherin they take outwardely but ye testymonys of men from mouth to mouth & hande to hande / without other examynacyon. But yt secret meane yt enclyneth theyr credulyte to consent in ye byleuyng all in one poynt whiche is the secrete instyncte of god / thys is the sure meane that neuer can in any necessary poynte fayle here in Crystys chyrche. For yf it myght / all were quyte at large. And that poynt ones taken away / scrypture and all walketh with it. (CW 6, 223/21-29) Chancellor More's argument is that if the Church, the consensus of the faithful, is led astray in the matter of the veneration of the saints, then it could just as easily be led astray in drawing up the canon of scripture. The consensus of the faithful guided by the Holy Spirit plays a crucial role in More's understanding of the Church and in his defence of the veneration of saints in particular: yf the chyrche of Cryste entendynge well / do all agree vpon any one thyng concernyng goddes honour or mannys soule / it can not be but that thyng must nedys be true. For goddes holy spyryte that anymateth his chyrche and gyueth it lyfe / wyll neuer suffer it all consent and agre togyther vpon any dampnable errour. (CW 6, 224/11-17) The Holy Spirit would not allow the Church to consent to the worship of saints and veneration of relics if it were "a thynge dampnable false and fayned" (224/20). The Messenger accepts Chancellor More's arguments for the veneration of saints but The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 166 objects that the saints cannot be pleased with the way that they are worshipped; for we worship them in the same way that we do God and we offer to their images the same worship that we offer to the saints themselves. Chancellor More replies to the Messenger's charges by denying that the common people worship the saints with the same honour (latria) that they worship God. If we worshipped Christ with the thought that he was the best man we could possibly imagine but that he was not God, this would not be latria. Latria does not consist of certain outward gestures or rites: For yf ye lowly maner of bodyly obseruaunce were ye thyng yt wolde make latria / then were we moch in parell of ydolatry in our curtesy vsyd to prynces prelates & popys / to whom we knele as low as to god almyghty / and kysse some theyr handes and some our owne / or [before] euer we presume to touche them / and in the pope his fote. (CW 6, 230/19-24) The worship of the saints is not idolatrous because no Christian offers them latria. Neither are the common people so foolish as to confuse the images of the saints with the saints themselves. If they prefer one image over another or prefer to go to one place on pilgrimage rather than another "they mene none other but yt our lorde & our lady / or our lorde for our lady sheweth mo myracles at the one than at the other" (231/7-9). Neither are they so foolish to take the images of Our Lady at Walsingham or Ipswich for Our Lady herself: take the symplest foole that ye can chose / & she wyll tell you that our lady her selfe is in heuyn. She wyll also call an ymage an ymage / & she wyll tell you a dyfference bytwene an ymage of an horse and an horse in dede. And then appereth it well what so euer her wordys be of her pylgrymage by a commune maner of speche to call the ymage of our lady our lady / as men say go to the kynges hed for wyne / not meanynge his hed in dede but the sygne / so meaneth she none other in that ymage but our ladyes ymage howe so euer she call it. (CW 6, 231/30-232/7) Nor is it superstitious to pray to the saints to satisfy our needs, for example when we pray to Saint Appolina for the toothache or Saint Loy for the health of our horses. Chancellor More cites Matthew, Chap. 6, to show that God cares for our material as well as our spiritual needs. Since in the gospels Christ considered it no breach of the Sabbath to pull The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 167 a horse out of a pit, it is lawful to pray for a poor man's horse on Saint Loy's day, and if our teeth ache it is a worthy thing to pray not only to Saint Appolina but also to God himself. Chancellor More argues that the existence of superstitious practises in the worship of the saints does not invalidate the veneration of the saints themselves. The question is not whether something can be done badly: "For if it may be well done / then though many wold mysse vse it / yet doth all that nothynge mynyshe ye goodnes of the thynge selfe" (235/28-30). Just because some men commonly go hunting on Good Friday does not mean that we should cast away Good Friday. Moreover, Crystmas yf we consyder how commonly men abuse it / we may thynke that they take it for a tyme of lyberty for all maner of lewdnes. And yet is not Crystmas to be cast away amonge crysten men / but men rather monysshed to amende theyr maners / & vse them selfe in Crystmas more crystenly. (CW 6, 236/10-14) Book II ends with a discussion of miracles as a proof of God's guidance of the Church: "To what purpose quod I were myracles specyally wrought by god / was it not to ye entente to make his messengers knowen and the trouthe of his message?" (239/26-28). The miracles worked by the saints and Doctors of the Church prove the truth of their message. There are no miracles found among the sects of the heretics which proves that they are not the true Church of Christ: "Now syth there be so many false sectes & but one chyrch true / & myracles not spoken of in any but one / it is a good token yt the matter & substaunce of them is true" (243/4-7), and "it is a good profe that ye same one in whiche onely they be done / is onely the very trewe chyrche of Cryste to whiche his holy spyryte and meruaylouse maiestye gyueth his specyall assystence" (243/10-13). Chancellor More concludes that the continued presence of miracles in the life of the Church proves that "the praynge to sayntes / the worshyp of ymages / reuerencynge of relyques / and goynge in pylgrymages" (245/17-19) are not "dampnable or dyspleasaunt to god / but thynges hyghly to his contentacyon and pleasure" (245120-22). The Messenger is satisfied with Chancellor More's The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 168 argument and he departs, promising to return another time to discuss the remaining matters that he brought up in the beginning in his "letter of credence". These matters, which will be dealt with in Books III—IV of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, i.e. Heresies B, are discussed in the next chapter. 4.4. CONCLUSION The Dialogue Concerning Heresies is the longest of the four works under consideration in this study. It also has the most intricate structure. As I have pointed out in this chapter, the first half of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, Books I and II, what I am calling Heresies A, has a structure that is in many ways analogous to the first part, the parerga and Book I, of Utopia. The elaborate introduction (Preface—Book 1:2, pp. 21-37) shows striking parallels to the elaborate parerga of the Utopia, briefly described in the previous chapter, and also to the fictive prefatory letters of William Rosseus and Baravellus in More's earlier Latin polemical work, the Responsio ad Lutherum. 54 While the (for want of a better word) "chiasmic" (a-b-b-a) four-part structure of Books I and II, where Heresies A l' the first part of Book I (Chapters 3-17) and the second part of Book II (Chapters 8-12), provides a container or envelope for Heresies A 2 (Books 1:18-2:7), does so in a manner analogous to the way in which the 'Dialogue of Counsel' frames the dialogue-within-a-dialogue of the 'Cardinal Morton Episode' in Book I of Utopia. The two major divisions of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies (Heresies A and B) have parallels not only with the two-fold structure of Utopia, Books I and II, but also, as I will show in my discussion of the work, in the two major divisions of the Dialogue of Comfort into a "Book of Comfort" (Comfort A: Book I: Preface—II: 8), and an extended meditation on Psalm 90 (91): 5-6 (Comfort B: Books II: 9—III: 27). More's fondness for four-part divisions of topics, shown clearly in the four topics of Heresies B, already briefly outlined in this chapter (see Figure 4.1), and described in detail in the next, have parallels not only with the The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 169 four part "chiasmic" (a-b-b-a) structure of Heresies A (see Figure 4.2), but also with the four major temptations of Psalm 90 (91) which, as I will show at the appropriate point, provide the 'architectural' framework for Comfort B. In the next chapter I will deal with two important issues raised in Heresies B, namely Tyndale's translation of the New Testament and the Lutheran doctrines of 'Justification by Faith Alone' and Predestination. The structure of Heresies B is much looser and more heterogeneous, than that of Heresies A, and the argument does at times appear rather disjointed, but Chancellor More does fulfill his promise to deal with those issues (which will be restated in the next chapter) that were first raised by the Messenger in his 'Credence' at the beginning of Book I. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II i 170 NOTES 1. More's 'Polemical Works' consist of a series of controversial works in Latin and English, written in the period 1523-33, dealing with the central issues of the Reformation Debate. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies was the third in order of composition, and the first to be written in English. 2. R. Pineas, rev. of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, RenQ 35 (1982): 617. 3. R. Marius in The Confutation of Tyndale's Answer, vol. 8 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More, (hereafter CW 8), ed. L. A. Schuster, R. C. Marius, J. P. Lusardi, and R. J. Schoeck, 3 vols (New Haven: Yale UP, 1973), 1344. 4. English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, Excluding Drama, (Oxford: Oxford UP, 1954), 172; rpt. in Essential Articles for the Study of Thomas More, eds. R. S. Sylvester and G. Marc'hadour (Hamden, CT: Archon, 1977), 393. 5. Rev. of CW 8, EHR 89 (1974): 385 (rpt. Tudor and Stuart Studies, 3: 447). 6. See B. Bradshaw, "The Controversial Sir Thomas More," JEH 36 (1985): 535-69, esp. 552. 7. See Pineas's review: "Lawler's essay dealing with More's view of heresy in the Dialogue is tendentious, while demonstrating insufficient familiarity with the nature and techniques of religious polemics, as well as some of the tenets of literary criticism." RenQ 35 (1982): 618. 8. "The Controversial Sir Thomas More," 552. 9. See "More as Author: The Virtues of Digression," Moreana 62 (1979): 105-19; rev. vers. as "The Order of the Heart," Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man (New Haven: Yale UP, 1990), 29-51, 106-07. 10. Ibid., 107 (34). 11. "The Controversial Sir Thomas More," 552. 12. Ibid., 549-551. 13. Rev. of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, Moreana 75/76 (1982): 51-55. 14. Ibid., 51-52. 15. EHR 98 (1983): 152-55, 153. 16. Ibid., 154. 17. For studies of More's literary and rhetorical techniques in his polemical works see Rainer Pineas's Thomas More and Tudor Polemics (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1968); L. A. Schuster, "Thomas More's Polemical Career, 1523-33," CW 8, 1135-268; and D. Birch, Early Reformation English Polemics, Salzburg Studies in English Literature: Elizabethan and Renaissance Studies 92:7 (Salzburg: Institut fur Anglistik and Amerikanistik, Universitat Salzburg, 1983). For other studies see Polemical Works: General Studies in the Bibliographical Appendix. 18. For comparative studies of More's three dialogues, see the bibliography in Chapter 1, n.6. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 171 19. There is also an extensive summary of Books I—II:1 of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies in J. Gairdner, "Appendix: Abstract of More's Dialogue," Lollardry and the Reformation in England, 4 vols. (London: MacMillan, 1908-13; rpt. New York: Burt Franklin, 1974), 1• 543-67. (Gairdner, however, did not summarize Book II: 2-12.) Gairdner also provided a brief, incomplete summary of Books III and IV, see ibid., 567-78. 20. A Dialogue concerning Heresies and Matters of Religion made in 1528 by Sir Thomas More (London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1927); rpt. in The English Works of Sir Thomas More, Volume 2: The Dialogue Concerning Tyndale (London: Eyre & Spottiswoode; New York: Lincoln MacVeagh, The Dial Press, 1931). 21. Eds. T. M. C. Lawler, G. Marc'hadour, and R. C. Marius, 2 vols. (hereafter CW 6) (New Haven: Yale UP, 1981). 22. See Wayne Booth, The Rhetoric of Fiction (Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1961), 177. For the roles of the Messenger and the reader see also D. B. Billingsley, "The Messenger and the Reader in Thomas More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies," SEL 24 (1984): 5-22. 23. William Tyndale, An Answer to Sir Thomas More's Dialogue, ed. Henry Walter, Parker Society 44 (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1850; rpt. New York: Johnson Reprint Corp., 1968). 24. The others were The Supplication of Souls and The Letter to Frith (CW 7), The Confutation of Tyndale's Answer (CW 8), The Apology (CW 9), The Debellation of Salem and Bizance (CW 10), and The Answer to a Poisoned Book (CW 11). 25. The Responsio ad Lutherum (CW 5), and The Letter to Bugenhagen (CW 7). 26. In the account of the 'Wife of Botulph's Wharf,' see CW 8, 883/28-905/23. 27. The famous "Letter of Margaret Roper to Alice Alington," Rogers, #206, 514-533. 28. R. W. Chambers argues for More's (and Tyndale's) continuity with older traditions of prose writing in Old and Middle English, especially with the fourteenth century English mystics. I think Chambers somewhat overstates his case—there is much that is also new in More's (and Tyndale's) prose. See The Continuity of English Prose from Alfred to More and his School, (London: 1932). Also published as an introduction in Nicholas Harpsfield, The Life and Death of Sr Thomas Moore, knight, sometymes Lord high Chancellor of England, ed. E. L. Hitchcock, with an introduction by R. W. Chambers, EETS 186 (London: Oxford UP 1932), xlv—clxxiv. 29. The Preface (21/1-24/17) has no title (the title at the top of CW 6, 21, reads "The furst boke"), but since it precedes the first chapter, and is not listed in "The table of the furst boke" on page 1, it is clearly meant to have a prefatory function. 30. Since Chapter 2, which deals mainly with the 'The Image of Love', is something of a digression, the main theme of the dialogue in Books I and II, the defence of saints, relics, images, pilgrimages and the oral tradition of the Church, does not actually begin until Chapter 3 on page 51, some thirty pages into the work. 31. The narrative voice of the Preface (and of Chapter 1), whose function is somewhat analogous to that of the voice that I am calling Narrator More at the beginning of the Utopia, is never actually identified in the text, but I have chosen the title 'author', which the rubrics actually later apply to the first person voice ("quod I") of the Dialogue (whom I choose to call Chancellor More), and also to the author of the second letter in Chapter 1 ("The letter of the author sent with the boke"). The 'author' narrator is clearly, like the Thomas More of the `Prefatory Letter to Giles' of the Utopia at least partly a fictional construct. The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 172 32. This was a very common practise in the Middle Ages and the Renaissance. The 'letter of credence' was clearly meant to vouch for the reliability and trustworthiness of the bearer of the message. Even today ambassadors present a 'letter of credence' when they take up an embassy. For an example of More himself reading one of Erasmus's letters out loud to the Italian humanist Niccolo Sagundino, see Allen„ III, #590, 592/11-12: "tua elegantissima ab eo mihi recitata fuit epistola" ["he read me your most elegant letter" (CWE 4: 389/14-15)]. 33. This, of course, is an elaborate fiction, like those in the Prefatory Letter to Utopia and in the introduction to Responsio ad Lutherum (CW 5) (1523). Unlike the Dialogue of Comfort or the History of Richard III, there is no evidence for any independent circulation of the manuscript of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies prior to it's publication in 1529. 34. The Yale editors (CW 6, 602, note to 22/33-34) suggest Tunstal and Fisher. While plausible, this is pure surmise—Tunstall commissioned More to write against heretics, and Fisher had also written anti-Lutheran polemical works—both men would no doubt have had an interest in the work, but there is no proof of them actually having read it prior to publication. This also is part of the fiction of the Preface. 35. More's 'merry tales' are an important part of his literary style in many of his literary works, but especially in the two English dialogues. They have been the subject of a number of literary studies, see Thomas Lawler's comments in CW 6, 449-50; W. M. Gordon, "In Defense of More's Merry Tales," Moreana 38 (1973): 5-12 and "The Argument of Comedy in Thomas More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies," Ren&Ref ns 4 (1980): 13-32; G. Marc'hadour, "The Devil and the Lombards: Two Merry Tales by Thomas More," Cithara 19:2 (1980): 5-19. See also the section on Wit and Humour in the Bibliographical Appendix. 36. For More's knowledge of Chaucer, see A. Fox, "Thomas More's Dialogue and the Book of the Tales of Caunterbury: 'Good Mother Wit' and Creative Imitation," Familiar Colloquy: Essays Presented to Arthur Edward Barker, ed. P. Briickmann (Ottawa, Ont.: Oberon Press for U of Western Ontario, 1978), 15-24 and "Chaucer, More, and English Humanism," Parergon n.s. 6 (1988): 63-75. 37. It is one of the many sources of possible confusion in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, that "frende" sometimes stands, as it does here, for the Messenger (when Chancellor More is addressing the Friend), and sometimes elsewhere for the Friend as in "my good frende your mayster" (CW 6, 46/19). 38. See J. F. Davis, "The Trials of Thomas Bylney and The English Reformation," JEH 24 (1981): 775-790; E. Gow, "Thomas Bilney and His Relations with Sir Thomas More," Norfolk Archaeology 32 (1958-61): 292-310; E. G. Rupp, "The Recantations of Thomas Bilney," The London Quarterly and Holborn Review 167 (1942): 180-186; G. Walker, "Saint or Schemer? The 1527 Heresy Trial of Thomas Bilney Reconsidered," JEH 40 (1989): 219-38; S. Brigden, London and the Reformation (Oxford: Clarendon P, 1989), 111-13. 39. The actual contents of the argument of Book I, Chaps. 3-31, are summarized by the Messenger at the beginning of Book II, Chap. 1 (187/16-89/6). The argument of Book II, or at least the second half, is again (but less clearly) summarized at the end of Book II, Chap. 12 (245/12-46/6). And the central point of the second half of Book I, the equality of the oral tradition of the Church with the written scriptures as divine revelation, provides the theme of the dialogue-within-a-dialogue between the Messenger and the "Unnamed Critic" (my term) in Book III, Chap. 1, discussed in the next chapter. 40. For Cuthbert Tunstall's "licence" to More, see Rogers, #160, pp. 386-88, translated into English as "Licence for Sir Thomas More to keep and read heretical books, 7 March 1528," in English Historical Documents, Vol. V: 1485-1558, ed. C. H. Williams (London: Eyre & The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 173 Spottiswoode, 1967), 828-29. More was not the only one commissioned by Tunstall to write against heretics. John Skelton did so as well, see J. Scattergood, "Skelton and Heresy," Early Tudor England: Proceedings of the 1987 Harlaxton Symposium, ed. D. Williams (Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell Press, 1989), 157-70, esp. 159-61. 41. E. J. Devereux has even argued the opposite position that the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, originally consisted of a draft of Book I by itself, which More then later greatly expanded into its present four book form, see "Thomas More's Textual Changes in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies," The Library 5 ser., 27 (1972): 233-5; cf. CW 6, 550-52. 42. For More's relationship to earlier English defenders of images against Lollard attacks (especially Reginald Pecock), see CW 6, 748-59. 43. D. E. Mason and R. J. Schoeck, "On More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies (1529)," Moreana 27/28 (1970): 129-32. 44. Ps. 113B:4-8, 1 Tim. 1:17, Jer. 17:5, and Exod. 20:4. 45. See CW 6, 606-07, note to 38/22. 46. This is the first of three 'major' additions to the 1531 edition. The other two occur at 355/28-59/31, and 386/18-388/34. Significantly, the second 'addition' in Book IV:2 also deals with the question of images, while the third in Book IV:11 refines a point made in the reported dialogue of "The Examination of the Lutheran Preacher." For the changes More made in the 1531 edition, see Thomas Lawler's discussion in CW 6, 556-75. 47. London: 1525, by John Rickes. See E. Ruth Harvey, "Appendix A: The Image of Love," CW 6, 727-59. For More's treatment of The Image of Love, see L. Miles, "Protestant Colet and Catholic More: A Study of Contrasts in the Use of Platonism," ATR 33 (1951): 30-42; P. Stewart, "Heresy and Hypocrisy in the English Reformation" (Ph.D. Diss., U of British Columbia, 1992); J. B. Trapp, "Thomas More and the Visual Arts," Saggi sul Rinascimento, ed. S. Rossi (Milan: Edizioni Unicopli, 1984), 47-53; rpt. in Essays on the Renaissance and the Classical Tradition (London: Variorum Reprints, 1990), VIII: 47-53; and S. Brigden, London and the Reformation, 80-82. G. R. Elton rather surprisingly misses the point of More's discussion of the Image of Love. In his review of CW 6, he comments on Harvey's Appendix that she "discusses a devotional pamphlet, The Image of Love, which may have troubled More, who never mentions it", EHR 98 (1983): 153. 48. 274b-78d. 49. For the orthodox mediaeval defence of image worship by Aquinas and St. John Damascene, see CW 6, 742-48. 49a. See CW 6, 618, note to 65/3. 50. See Stewart's discussion of the shifting and contradictory meanings given to the words "reason" and "nature" in Book I of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, in "Heresy and Hypocrisy". 51. I am indebted for this point to an unpublished paper by Murray Tolmie, "Plato's Laws and More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies, Book I." 52. See B. G. Gogan, The Common Corps of Christendom: Ecclesiological Themes in the Writings of Sir Thomas More (Leiden: Brill, 1982). See also F. Murray, "The Holy Spirit in St. Thomas More's Confutation of Tyndale's Answer," Clergy Review 62 (1977): 388-92; P. Sheldrake, "Authority and Consensus in Thomas More's Doctrine of the Church," Heythrop The Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books I and II / 174 Journal 20 (1976): 146-62 and "Thomas More and Authority," The Month 2nd n.s. 10 (1977): 122-5, 134. 53. Chancellor More's wife, Dame Alice. 54. See the Responsio ad Lutherum, Vol. 5 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More, ed. J. M. Headley, trans. S. Scholastica, 2 vols. (New Haven: Yale UP, 1969), 1-31, 795-98. For a recent literary study of the Responsio, see R. R. McCutcheon, "The Responsio ad Lutherum: Thomas More's Inchoate Dialogue with Heresy," SCJ 22 (1991): 77-90. 5. DIALOGUE CONCERNING HERESIES: BOOKS III AND IV 5.1. INTRODUCTION The structure of the second half, Books III and IV, of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies (Heresies B), has already been briefly discussed in the section on the "Introduction to Dialogue Concerning Heresies" in the previous chapter (see also Figure 4.1). It is enough to recall that when the Messenger had first been sent by the Friend to visit Chancellor More, he had raised certain issues at the request of the Friend. During the course of his initial interview with the Messenger, Chancellor More had promised that he would deal with four matters that the Messenger had raised in his 'credence.' Chancellor More had promised that: I wolde... fyrst [B .1] begyn where he [the Messenger] bygan at the abiuracyon of the man he spake of [Bilney]. Secondly [B.2] wolde I touche the condempnacyon and burnyng of the new testament / translated by Tyndale. Thyrdly [B.3] somwhat wold I speke of Luther and his secte in generall. Fourthly [B.4] and fynally / the thynge that he touched last / that is to wyt / the warre and fyghtyng agaynst infydels / with the condempnacyon of heretykes vnto dethe / whiche two poyntys / hym selfe had combyned and knytte togyther. (CW 6, 35/27-36/4) However, instead of first dealing with these four matters, Chancellor More had instead launched into a general defence of images, saints, miracles, and pilgrimages, and from there into a general discussion on the nature of the Church, and on the relationship between the Oral Tradition of the Church and the written Scriptures. These are the matters that are dealt with in the over two hundred pages of Heresies A (Books I: 2b-II: 12; CW 6, 37-246), discussed in the previous chapter. Just as Narrator More had promised at the beginning of Book I to relate Hythloday's account of the manners and customs of the Utopians (cf. CW 4, 54/1-8), but had launched into the 'Dialogue of Counsel' instead, postponing the account of the "new island of Utopia" to Book II, so also Chancellor More in Books I and II of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies had taken up the matters of Heresies A, postponing his 175 Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 176 discussion of the points raised by the Messenger at the the beginning of Book I, to Books III and IV of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, in Heresies B, starting in Book III, Chapter 2. The first matter (B.1) of Heresies B, the account of the trial Thomas Bilney (1527), is dealt with in Book III: 2-7 (255-84). To this may be added (B.2b) the account of the posthumous trial of Richard Hunne (1514) in Book III: 15, which covers similar ground. The second matter (B.2) of Heresies B, the discussion of William Tyndale's translation of the New Testament, which also has obvious connections with the matter of Heresies A 2 , is dealt with in Book III: 8-16 (284-344). However, the account of the trial of Richard Hunne in Chapter 15 (316-30), which contains an important example of reported dialogue or "dialogue-within-a-dialogue," is better dealt with along with the trial of Bilney (in B.1) . The third matter (B.3) of Heresies B, on Luther's heresies, is dealt with in Book IV: 2a, 3-9 (348-54, 360-76). At this point the schematic outline provided in Book I:2a proves to be inadequate. The middle third of Book IV (B.3b), Chapters 10-12 (376-405), consists of a long "dialogue-within-a-dialogue" in Chapter 11, for which Chapters 10 and 12 are prologue and epilogue respectively. Book IV, Chapter 11 supposedly gives an account of the examination of an English Lutheran preacher. However, the real foci of the reported dialogue of Chapter 11 are the Lutheran doctrines of Predestination and "Justification by Faith Alone". The fourth matter (B.4) of Heresies B, the justification for heresy trials and the war against the Turks, is dealt with in Book IV:13-18a (405-30). (This analysis of the structure of of Books III and IV is summarized in Figure 4.1 in the previous chapter.) However, the introductions to Books III and IV, and the conclusion to Book IV (Chapter 18b) call for special treatment. The introductions to Book III and IV contain further elaborations of the fictional narrative frame of the dialogue. In Book III, Chapter 1 there is yet another "dialogue-within-a-dialogue" that recapitulates the argument of Heresies A, in particular the defence of the oral tradition of the Church as an equal part of divine Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 177 revelation along with scriptures, that is the central argument of Heresies A 2 . Heresies B proper does not begin until the following chapter. Book IV, Chapter 1 is more straight-forward, but Chancellor More's treatment of Luther's heresies is interrupted almost immediately in Chapter 2 (in an addition to the 1531 and 1557 editions), by another reported dialogue that recalls both the theme of Book I: Chapter 2, the treatment of the Image of Love (also an addition to the 1531 and 1557 editions), already described in the previous chapter; and the setting of the "dialogue-within-a-dialogue" in Book III, Chapter 1, which will be described below. The conclusion to Book IV (430-35) serves as a conclusion not only to Heresies B, but also to the Dialogue Concerning Heresies as a whole. In my discussion of Heresies B, I have singled out the openings of Books III and IV (III:1 and IV:1-2), and the treatment of Tyndale's translation of the New Testament (B.2), and the 'Examination of a Lutheran Preacher' (B.3b), and the Conclusion of Book IV. The other sections of Heresies B (B.1, B.2b, B.3a, B.4) have only been briefly summarized at the appropriate points in my discussion. 1 5.2. BOOK III:1 AS EPILOGUE TO HERESIES A 2 Book III takes place a fortnight later after the meeting described in Heresies A, and after the Messenger has just visited some of his old friends at the university where he had studied before becoming the tutor to the children of Chancellor More's Friend: 2 "About fortenyght after your frende [i.e. the Messenger] came agayne in a mornyng new comen from the vnyuersyte where he was as ye wote at lernynge ere he came at you" (247/10-12). Chancellor then continues by reporting to the Friend that while at the university, the Messenger had visited some of his old acquaintances, and had repeated to them some of the arguments that he and Chancellor More had previously had: And vpon occasyon rysyng in communycacyon / had agayne repeted with some of them very fresshe lerned men / good parte of our foremare dysceptacyon & resonyng / had bytwene vs before his departyng. Which as Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 178 he sayd they toke great plesure in / & moth wysshed to haue ben present therat. (CW 6, 247/13-17) But some of them objected to "the hard handelyng of ye man [Bilney] yt ye [the Friend] wryte of / & the burnyng of ye new testament and the forbedynge of Luthers bokys to be redde" (247/18-20). And finally there were some who thought that the clergy were very far from the practise of true charity in the burning of heretics. It was these very charges that had occasioned the visit of the Messenger to Chancellor More at the Friend's request at the beginning of Book I, and which Chancellor More had promised to deal with. And they will finally be taken up starting in the next chapter, when they will become the matter of the rest of Books III and IV (Heresies B). Though the last chapter of Book II (Chapter 12), in concluding the discussion of Heresies A 1 , effectively served as an epilogue to Heresies A as a whole, Chancellor More and the Messenger return in this chapter one last time to the central issue raised in their previous meeting, described in Heresies A 2, the relationship between Scripture and the Oral Tradition of the Church. Chancellor More begins by saying that he was very glad that the Messenger happened to be visiting his friends at the university: Not so moche for any thynge that ye haue shewed them of our communycacyon had all redy / concernyng the prayeng of sayntes / worshyppyng of ymages and relyques / and goyng in pylgrymage [Heresies A 1 ]... as for that I thynke that amonge them / beynge as ye saye so well lerned / ye haue eyther herde somwhat wherby ye be in some parte of these matters (yt we shal speke of [in Heresies B]) all redy satysfyed / wherby our busynes therin maye be the shorter / or els ye be the more strongly instructed for ye other [Lutheran] parte wherby our dysputacyon shall be the fuller / and the matters the more playnly touched / for the more ample satysfaccyon of such [doubts] as your selfe or your mayster [the Friend] shall hereafter happen to fynde.... (CW 6, 247/25-248/8) The Messenger replies that indeed "somwhat haue they shewed me theyr myndes therin" (248/10-11). Chancellor More then asks "But yet I pray you be playne with me in one thynge. Were they satysfyed and helde them selfe contente in those thynges yt were at last Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 179 with moche worke agreed bytwene vs?" (248/14-17). The Messenger reports "to saye the trouthe / all were saue one / and he in all thynge saue one" (248/18-19). "I pray you tell me" responds Chancellor More "what one thynge it was / and why he myslyked it." The Messenger answers "Surely quod he for ought yt I coulde bende vpon hym / he could neuer agree that the fayth of the chyrche out of scrypture / sholde be as sure and bynde vs to the byleue therof / as the wordes of holy scrypture" (248/24-27). What follows is another "dialogue-within-a-dialogue," or reported dialogue, in which Chancellor More advises the Messenger on how he should have answered his opponent, whom I shall call hereafter the 'Unnamed Critic.' 3 Chancellor More reminds the Messenger of their previous discussions: "yf ye remembred well what we sayd / ye had ynoughe to proue hym that" (248/28-29). The Messenger starts off by boasting that he had: "so had I and so dyd I / and in suche wyse that dyuers wayes I brought hym to the bay / yt he wyst not howe to voyde" (248/30-31). However, he admits that the Unnamed Critic quickly got the better of him by countering: Whan you byleue the chyrche / wherfore do you byleue the chyrche? do you not byleue it bycause it sayth trouth? Yes mary quod I [the Messenger] what ellys. And how knowe you quod he [the Unnamed Critic] yt the chyrche sayth trouth? Knowe ye that any other wyse than by scrypture? Nay mary quod I [the Messenger]. But than by playne scrypture I knowe it very well. For the scrypture telleth me that god hath fully taught and techeth his chyrche and byddeth me byleue his chyrche. (CW 6, 249/9-16) The Unnamed Critic then responded triumphantly to the Messenger: "Ye wolde [have me believe]... that ye chyrch was in all necessary poyntys of our faythe / as moche to be byleued as the scrypture" but now "I haue dryuen you to the wall... and prouyd vnto you that the chyrche is not to be byleued... but for the authoryte of the scrypture" (249/18-26). The Messenger then rather shame-facedly concludes the account of his discussion with the Unnamed Critic by admitting: Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 180 I was therewith astonyed and sayd I wolde aduyse me further theron. But he [the Unnamed Critic] laughed and sayd he wolde lende me this / and not to be hasty on me / for he wolde gyue me respyte of payment tyll I had spoken with you [Chancellor More] agayne. (249/27-30) Chancellor More now continues his account of his meeting with the Messenger by addressing the Friend: 4 Whan your frende [i.e. the Messenger] had tolde [his tale] / forsoth quod I he [the Unnamed Critic] delte with you [the Messenger] lyke a courteys credytour.... And to say the trouthe ye owe hym not moche. For ye may bere hym his owne agayne and tell hym his money is nought [false]. (249/31-250/1) The Messenger then asks "Why quod your frende [the Messenger] what thyng dyd I graunt hym that I sholde not?" (250/29-30). Chancellor More responds "no more but all that euer ye graunted. For fyrst whan he asked you whyther the cause why we byleue the chyrche be not bycause it is true yt the chyrche telleth you... answered ye not well therto whan ye graunted it" (250/31-251/3). He goes on to explain: For yf a knowen lyar tell you a knowen trewe tale / ye wyll byleue hym bycause he telleth you trouth. But nowe if a knowen true man tell you an vnknowen trouth ye byleue not him / bycause ye thyng is trouth / but ye byleue the thyng to be trouth bycause ye byleue ye man to be true. And so byleue you the chyrche.... (251/7-11) However, the principal thing that the Messenger should not have granted the Unnamed Critic was that he believed the Church "for none other cause but only bycause the scrypture so sheweth me" (252/5-6). In reply to the objection raised by the Unnamed Critic, Chancellor More asks the Messenger: "what yf neuer scriptur had ben wryten in thys world / shuld there neuer haue bene eny chyrch or congregacyon of faythfull & ryght byleuyng people?" (252/7-9). The Messenger is nonplussed. Chancellor More then asks him further "were there neuer eny folke yt byleued in god / & had a true fayth betwene Adam and Noe / of such as neuer herd Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 181 god speke them self?" (252/11-13). The Messenger concedes "I suppose ther were some / but yt shold seme ther were very few. For ther were few saued in Noes shyp" (252/14-15). Chancellor More proceeds further: "Was ther also no faythfull folke at all frome Noe to Moyses / nor hym selfe neyther tyll he had the law delyuered hym in wrytyng?" (253/2-4). The Messenger is forced to admit that there were some. He is asked "why dyd eny man than byleue ye chyrch that ys to wytte the nombre and congregacyon of good and ryght byleuynge folke / of whose mouth and tradycyon he herde the true byleue" (253/11-14) against the wrong misbeliefs of the infidels and idolaters, unless they believed that God had taught these beliefs to the good men before them. Chancellor More then asks the Messenger: I praye you tell me what scrypture hath taught the chyrch to knowe whyche bookys be the very scrypture / and to reiecte many other that were writen of the same maters / and that in suche wyse wryten / and in the namys of suche men as (sauynge for the spyryte of god geuen to hys chyrch) a naturall wyse man had bene lykely ynough / eyther to haue taken both for holy scrypture / or to haue reiected both as none holy scriptur? (CW 6, 253/21-27) Though we prove the authority of the Church by scripture to those who believe nothing but the scripture, "yet shold we haue byleued the chyrche yf neuer scrypture had ben wryten / as those good faythfull folke dyd / that byleued well byfore the scripture was wryten" (254/3-5). Scripture itself does not make us believe the scriptures, but the Church makes us know the scripture: "And god wythout scrypture hath taught hys chyrche the knowledge of his very scripture from all counterfete scrypture" (254/7-9). A man may read the scriptures and yet believe never a word of it: yt ys the spyryte of god that wyth our owne towardnesse and good endeuour / worketh in hys chyrch and in euery good membre therof the credulyte & bylyef / wherby we byleue as well the chyrch concernynge goddys wordys taught vs by the chyrch and by god graued in mennys hartys wythout scrypture / as hys holy wordys wryten in hys holy scrypture. (CW 6, 254/13-18) Chancellor More continues that "where ye [the Messenger] graunted hym [the Unnamed Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 182 Critic] that so dyd oppose you / that we byleue the chyrche by none other way but by the scrypture" (254/19-20), the Messenger did not answer him well because: For we besyde the scrypture do byleue the chyrch / bycause that god hym selfe by secrete inspyracyon of hys holy spyryte / doth... teche vs to byleue hys chyrche... by the selfe same meane by whych he techeth vs and ledeth vs in to the bylyefe of hys holy scrypture. (CW 6, 254/21-26) Chancellor More concludes that "yf ye had answered hym [the Unnamed Critic] thus I byleue surely that ye had clerely dysarmed hym & broken his gay sworde in twayn" (254/38-39). To which the Messenger responds "so semeth me now to.... yet I trust he shall wynne no worshippe therof whan we mete agayne" (255/4-6). With this Chancellor More and the Messenger finish their discussion of the matters of Heresies A 2. They then turn in the rest of Books III and IV to deal with the four matters of Heresies B, already previously mentioned above. 5.3. ANALYSIS OF HERESIES B Chancellor More then turns, starting in the next chapter, to discuss the heresy trial of Thomas Bilney (Chapters 2-7; CW 6, 255-84), the first of the four matters ("the abiuracyon of the man he [the Messenger] spake of" [i.e. Bilney] (35/30)—see Figure 4.1) he had promised to deal with at the beginning of Book I. In Chapter 2 Chancellor More deals with the circumstances surrounding Bilney's trial. Chapter 3 is a vindication of the reliability of witnesses in heresy trials, In Chapter 4 Chancellor More answers an objection raised by the Messenger concerning the claims of contrary 'witnesses' who wished to prove Bilney's innocence after the fact. In Chapter 5 Chancellor More defends the integrity of Wolsey and Cuthbert Tunstal, Bilney's ecclesiastical judges. Chapter 6 deals with Bilney's perjury, and in Chapter 7 Chancellor More, in answer to an objection raised by the Messenger, denies that a man on peril of perjury may lawfully forswear himself. Except for a 'digression' on the posthumous trial (1514) of Richard Hunne for heresy in Chapter 15 (314-30), which Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 183 constitutes yet another example of reported dialogue or "dialogue-within-a-dialogue", the rest of Book III (Chapters 8-16; CW 6, 284-344) is taken up with a treatment of the second of the four matters (see Figure 4.1) raised by the Messenger at the beginning of Book I, namely Tyndale's translation of the New Testament. 5 5.3.1. Tyndale's Translation of the New Testament (III: 8-15) (B.2) Chancellor More begins his treatment of the second matter of Heresies B, first raised by the Messenger in Book I ("the condempnacyon and burnyng of the new testament / translated by Tyndale" 35/30-32), by criticizing Tyndale's translation of the New Testament in no uncertain terms. The Messenger asks Chancellor More what he thinks of the burning of Tyndale's translation of the New Testament: 6 Chancellor More responds that to call it the New Testament would be wrong, it should rather be called Tyndale's Testament or Luther's Testament, since Tyndale following Luther's counsel has corrupted and changed it so much. He goes on to charge that in the whole book there were over a thousand places where the text was falsely translated, and especially three words of great weight that Tyndale has repeatedly mistranslated: The one is quod I this worde prestys. The other the chyrche. The thyrde charyte. For prestys where so euer he speketh of the prestes of Crystes chyrche he neuer calleth them prestes but alway senyours / the chyrche he calleth alway the congregacyon / & charyte he calleth alway loue. (CW 6, 285/36-286/4) These words do not express the things meant by them and it is clear from the context that Tyndale had a malicious intention in making these changes. Though in the Greek tongue priests are called presbyteroi, or "elder men," it is clear from the example of Timothy that not all priests were chosen old. The word "senior" is either a French word, meaning "My lord", usually used in mockery, or else, in its Latin sense, it means only an old man, not a priest. He asks why Tyndale calls the Church the congregation. Though the Church is a Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 184 congregation, not every congregation is the Church. In England the congregation of Christian people has always been called and known by the name of the Church, but the word congregation is common both to a company of Christian men and a company of Turks. Similarly with the word charity, though charity is always love, love is not always charity. Charity signifies in English men's ears, not every common love, but a good, virtuous and well ordered love. The Messenger, while agreeing with Chancellor More's objections to Tyndale's translations, nonetheless protests that he does not see any malicious purpose in Tyndale's translations. He does however agree that the translation should not go forth in its present form. Chancellor More argues that the translation was made by Tyndale, while he was at Wittenberg, with the intention of propagating Luther's views. Chancellor More goes on to suggest that the reason why Tyndale changed the word "church" is obvious. Because Luther denies that the Catholic Church is the Church of Christ, but rather claims that the true Church of Christ is an unknown congregation of folk scattered about here and there, Tyndale in his New Testament cannot abide the name of the Church, but turns it into the name of congregation. Similarly, because Luther and his followers reject the sacrament of holy orders, Tyndale deliberately puts away the word priest in the New Testament because "he wolde make it seme that the scrypture dyd neuer speke of any prestos dyfferent from ley men amonge crysten people" (289/29-31). After citing other examples of mistranslated words, Chancellor More states that Tyndale has made his translation with the intention not only of promoting Luther's heresies, but also of suggesting that "the prechers haue all thys .xv. C. yere mysse reported ye gospell and englyshed the scrypture wronge / to lede the people purposely out of the ryght way" (290/34-36). The Messenger suggests that Tyndale's translation be amended by some good men and printed again. Chancellor More replies that it would be less labour to translate the whole Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 185 book anew. The Messenger then blames the English clergy for passing a provincial constitution (in 1408) 7 forbidding the ownership of English Bibles. The clergy will allow laymen to have no English Bibles at all. This is contrasted with the situation in other countries where the Catholic clergy allow the people to have vernacular translations of scripture. 8 The Messenger attacks the English clergy for leading the people astray with glosses of their own making, and using their provincial constitution as an excuse to take Christ's Gospel out of the hands of Christian people. The scripture is a nourisher of virtue for good men and a means of amendment for those who are bad. Therefore, the clergy are wrong in forbidding the scriptures to the laity. Chancellor More denies that they do this and launches into a defence of the clergy. While admitting that there are many corrupt priests, he argues that they are no worse than elsewhere. He goes on to suggest (in terms reminiscent of Utopia) 9 that if priests were more carefully selected this would solve many of the problems. After a digression in defence of clerical celibacy (303-14), Chancellor More then returns again to the question of the provincial constitution. The Messenger asks Chancellor More to explain why the clergy have forbidden the making of English translations of scripture. Chancellor More denies that the constitution actually forbids the making of translations and goes on to explain that, though the Bible had been translated beforehand by virtuous and well-learned men into the English tongue, 10 Wyclif took it upon himself with a malicious intent to translate it anew. In that translation he used such words as might seem to serve as proof of his heretical opinions, which he not only set forth in his translation, but also in the prologues and glosses he added to it. After it was perceived what harm came through Wyclif's translations, prologues and glosses, and how it helped the spread of Lollardry, a council was held at Oxford to decide on the matter of vernacular translations. This council forbade the making of any new translations or the use of existing Wycliffite versions, until the translation had been Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 186 approved by the diocesan, or if need be by a provincial council. However, the council did not forbid the reading of translations made before Wyclif's time, nor did it forbid the making of new translations, provided that the translator did not have a malicious intention, as did both Wyclif and Tyndale. The Messenger then cites the example of Richard Hunne, who was posthumously condemned of heresy in 1514, and whose body was burned together with an English Bible that he had in his possession. After an important digression on the Hunne case (316-330), 11 Chancellor More concludes: there were in the prologe of that [Hunne's] byble suche wordys touchynge the blyssed sacrament / as good crysten men dyd moche abhorre to here / and whyche gaue the reders vndouted occasyon to thynke that the boke was wryten after wyclyffs copy / and by hym translated into our tonge. (CW 6, 330/18-23) More's defence of the Constitution of Arundel may have been somewhat disingenuous because, in practise, most of the vernacular versions of the Bible circulating in late mediaeval England were Lollard or Wycliffite in origin; 12 nonetheless, the constitution did provide a basis for More himself to argue in the next chapter cautiously in favour of making a new Catholic translation for the laity. 5.3.2. Approval for a Vernacular Translation (III: 16) (B.2 cont.) Chancellor More now turns in the last chapter of Book III to give considered approval to the project of producing a Catholic translation of the Bible into the English vernacular. The Messenger begins by indicating that as usual he has not been listening carefully to the arguments of Chancellor More in the previous chapter: he reiterates the charges against the clergy, that Chancellor More has just disproved, namely that the clergy keep the vernacular translations of the Bible out of the hands of the laity. Chancellor More replies with a hint of annoyance, by repeating his earlier claim that only those translations that were condemned Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 187 as wicked, such as Wyclif's and Tyndale's, were so withheld, but the older translations that were made before Wyclif's time remain lawful. The Messenger, however, asks why the English Bible is in so few men's hands, when so many would have it. Chancellor More replies: howe it hathe happed that in all this whyle god bath eyther not suffered or not prouyded that any good vertuous [i.e. catholic] man bath had the mynde in faythfull wyse to translate it / and thervpon eyther the clergy or at the lest wyse / some one bysshop to approue it / this can I nothynge tell. (CW 6, 331/27-31) He states that the clergy are reluctant to approve English translations of the Bible because they see many more of the worse sort calling for it than the better, and so they fear that if the Bible were in every man's hand it would do more harm to seditious people than good to honest folk. Chancellor More then expresses his own disagreement with the position of the archconservatives, stating that he would not for all the harm it brings to those with malicious intentions, take away the profit that others might take from it. The Messenger states his agreement with Chancellor More but immediately goes on to attack the clergy for all the reasons that they give for withholding the scriptures from the people: But of all thynge specyally they say that scrypture is ye fode of the soule. And that the comen people be as infantys that muste be fedde but with mylke and pappe. And yf we haue any stronger mete it must be chammed [chewed] afore by the nurse and so put into the babys mouth. But me thynke though they make vs all infantys / they shall fynde many a shrewde brayne among vs / that can perceyue chalke fro chese well ynough and yf they wolde ones take vs our mete in our owne hande. We be not so euyll tothed but that within a whyle they shall se vs cham it our selfe as well as they. For let them call vs yonge babys and [if] they wyll / yet by god they shall for all that well fynde in some of vs yt an old knaue is no chylde. (CW 6, 333/3-13) Chancellor More rebukes the Messenger by replying that it is precisely the Messenger's attitude that puts good folk in fear of allowing the Scriptures to be translated into our English tongue. It is not the reading of scrypture, but the "busy chammyng [chewing] Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV^188 therof", i.e. interpretation, especially of such parts "as lest wyll agre wyth theyr capacytees" (333/19-20) that is the main source of trouble. Unlearned men show an inordinate appetite for knowledge when they busy themselves in searching into and disputing about the great secret mysteries of Scripture, which they are unable to understand, even when they read about in their own language. He goes on to cite the opinion of Saint Jerome: the blessyd holy doctour saynt Hierome gretely complayneth and rebuketh that lewde homely maner / that ye comon ley people men and women were in his dayes so bolde in the medlynge / dysputynge / and expownynge of holy scrypture. And sheweth playnly yt they shall haue euyll prefe therin / that wyll reken them selfe to vnderstande it by themselfe without a reder. (CW 6, 334/8-15) Chancellor More clearly sees the reading of scripture as a communal act: the Holy Spirit so guides the Church that he will have some readers and some hearers, some teachers and some learners. He condemns the bold presumption of those: that boldely wyll vpon the fyrst redyng bycause he knoweth the wordys / take vpon hym therfore to teche other men the sentence with parell of his owne soule and other mennys to / by the bryngynge men into madde wayes / sectys / and heresyes / suche as heretyques haue of olde brought vp and the chyrche hath condempned. (CW 6, 335/16-20) whereas wise men devote many years to the study of scriptures and yet fail to understand many passages. The scriptures are "so deuysed and endyted by the hyghe wysedome of god / that it far excedeth in many platys the capacyte and perceyuyng of man" (335/5-7). If the common people are allowed to "cham" and dispute about scripture: than sholde ye haue the more blynde ye more bolde / the more ignoraunt the more besy / the lesse wyt the more inquysytyfe / the more fole the more talkatyfe of great doutys and hygh questyons of holy scrypture and of goddes great and secrete mysteryes / and thys not sobrely of any good affeccyon / but presumptuously and vnreuerently at mete and at mele. And there whan the wyne were in and the wytte out / wolde they take vppon them with folyshe wordys and blasphemye to handle holy scrypture in more homely maner than a songe of Robyn bode. (CW 6, 335/22-31) Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 189 All this busy "chamming" results in the holy scriptures losing all honour and reverence. On the other hand, if we will read it devoutly, and, wherever the meaning is plain and evident, endeavour to follow its teachings by the help of God's grace and avoid wrestling with obscure passages, then no one will take harm by this manner of reading. Other matters, however, that the common people cannot understand without learning, they should leave to theym whose hole study is byset thervpon / and to the prechours appoynted thervnto / whiche may shewe theym suche thynges in tyme and place conuenyent with reuerence and authoryte / the sermon so tempered / as may be mete and conuenyent alwaye for the present audyence. (CW 6, 336/30-337/1) Chancellor More then goes on to defend vernacular translations. It has never been forbidden to read the Bible in any vulgar tongue, nor is English too barbarous a language to translate the scriptures into, but, on the contrary, it is rich enough in words to allow us to express our minds on any topic. Nor should the difficulties of translation deter us since it did not deter those who translated the scriptures either out of Greek into Latin, or out of Hebrew into them both. If some readers take harm from reading the Bible in English, this arises from their own "lewdness", not from the translation. The scriptures were first written in vulgar tongues: Hebrew, Latin, and Greek were themselves once spoken by the common people. There is no passage of scripture so hard that a good virtuous man or woman cannot find something in it to delight in and to increase their devotion. While the preacher should use discretion in his preaching, there is no harm in having the whole audience read over the passage of scripture that he intends to expound. God the Holy Spirit has so arranged the Holy Scriptures that no man may take harm from it except he that will lean proudly to the folly of his own wit. The profit that one good, devout, unlearned layman takes from scripture outweighs the harm that a hundred heretics fall into by their own wilfulness. The provincial constitution previously referred to confirms this point. When the bishops allowed English Bibles to remain in use that had been translated before Wyclirs Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 190 day, they consequently agreed that to have the Bible in English was not harmful. 13 Chancellor More then goes on to suggest the possibility of a new translation being made, which would be distributed at the discretion of the bishops. 14 The costs of distributing the Bible in the diocese are to be absorbed by the bishop. The Messenger objects that the people would rather pay for it at the printers than have it free from the bishop. Chancellor More, however, thinks that most will be content with this arrangement. He then goes on to suggest how the bishops should regulate the reading of scriptures. Though no part of scripture should be kept out of honest laymen's hands, it should be withheld from those who would take harm by being too bold and busy meddling with it. Chancellor More suggests—in terms reminiscent of the practise in mediaeval monasteries where different books were assigned by the abbot to different monks for reading and copying—that the bishop should at his discretion determine which books of the Bible should be given to which readers. At the bishop's discretion he may also take the Bible away again from those who abuse it to their own harm. More seems to be advocating throughout this passage the extension of the mediaeval monastic tradition of lectio divina to the laity, where the bishop takes on the role almost of an abbot. He draws a very strong contrast between the devout and meditative reading of scripture (which was at the core of the best of monastic spirituality), with the busy "chammyng" of the word as practised by the Lollards and the Lutherans. The Reformation, as More so clearly saw, was caused not by private reading of the scriptures, but by private interpretation. Chancellor More ends Book III on a note of cautious optimism about the matter of biblical translations, commenting that the king "is of his blessyd zele so mynded to moue this matter vnto the prelates of the clergye / among whom I haue perceyued some of ye gretest and of the best of theyr owne myndes well inclynable therto all redy" (344/25-28). The Messenger declares that he is fully content and satisfied in all the matters that have been discussed. Chancellor More replies "Well quod I then wyll we to Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 191 dyner / and the remenaunt wyll we fynysshe after" (344/34-35). At this point they then go off to eat. 5.3.3. The Beginning of Book IV Book IV of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies opens with a scene reminiscent of the opening of Book I of the Utopia. After they had rested for a little while after dinner, Chancellor More and the Messenger then went aside into the garden, and sat down in an arbour. There the Messenger began again by saying that both in the country and in the university where he had been, there were none that had an evil opinion of Luther, but they thought "that his bokes were by the clergye forboden of malyce and euyll wyll" (345/12-13), because the laymen could read in them the priests' faults, and for that very reason, they say, Luther's works are condemned. They also object that in Luthers works "though some parte were nought / many thyngys yet [were] well sayd / whereof there was no reason that men sholde lese ye profyte for the bad" (345/23-25). Chancellor More replies to this objection that if it were now doubtful and ambiguous whether the Church of Christ held the right rule of doctrine or not, then it were very necessary to give good audience to anybody who would dispute for it or against it. However, the case is far different: But now on the other syde yf it so be as in dede it is / yt Crystys chyrche hath the true doctryne all redy / and the selfe same yt saynt Poule wold not gyue an aungell of heuen audyence to the contrary / what wysedom were it nowe therein to shewe oure selfe so mystrustfull and waueryng / that... we sholde gyue herynge not to an aungell of heuen / but to a fonde frere / to an apostate / to an open incestuouse lechour / a playne lymme of the deuyll / and a manyfest messenger of hell. (CW 6, 346/5-14) It is not Luther's railing against the clergy that is the cause of his condemnation and the suppression of his books, for the old holy Fathers did not hesitate to denounce the vices of the clergy of their time that were wicked, and their books have endured for a long time, but it is because his heresies are so many and so abominable that his works are very apt to Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 192 corrupt and infect the reader. For the proof whereof we need no other example than the `good' that the reading of his books has done in Saxony, where of those who read his books "ye shall scantly fynd twayn / but that they... caste of prayer and fastynge and all such godly vertues as holy scrypture commendeth / and the chyrch commaundeth" (348/11-14). Chancellor More then promises to show the Messenger some of Luther's heresies written in his own books. The Messenger asks Chancellor More in the meantime to tell him some orally. Chancellor More then goes on to itemize Luther's heresies (348-355). Among the heresies of Luther that Chancellor More itemizes is that "no man sholde praye to sayntys nor sette by any holy relyques nor pylgrymagys / nor do any reuerence to any ymagys" (355/1-2), namely the very heresies that have been the subject matter of Heresies A 1 . The Messenger replies: By my trouthe quod your frende I hadde forgoten / that whan I was nowe in the vnyuersyte in the communycacyon that I had wyth my frendys there in that mater [cf. Book III:1] / one of theym objected agaynst me / that the worshyppe of ymagys hath be ere thys condempned by a greate counsall in Grece. (CW 6, 355/3-7) There was indeed such a council, replies Chancellor More, that was called together by an emperor who was a heretic "whych was after in the eyghteth [seventh] Synode by the generall counsayll dampned and adnulled" (355/9-10). 16 This heretical council had no more validity than if those in Saxony and Switzerland, who have abandoned the faith, were to gather together and call their meeting a general council. At this point in the second edition of 1531, More made an important addition to the text (355/28-59/31). 15 This consists of yet another reported dialogue. Its theme, the defence of images, looks back to the first addition of 1531 in Book 1:2 on the Image of Love, already dealt with in the previous chapter; while for its locale More returns to the university setting of Book III:1, and the reported dialogue between the Unnamed Critic and the Messenger, where we meet if not the Unnamed Critic again then certainly another of the same ilk, and no doubt a friend both of the Unnamed Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 193 Critic as well as the Messenger. There was one person at their meeting, continues the Messenger, who was learned in the law, who will be referred to hereafter as the 'Law Student.' At one point when they were gathered in the Law Student's chamber at the university, the Law Student said that if he wished he could show a fair law incorporated into the decrees of the Church "whych lawe yf it were layed in theyre lyght that wold take vppon theym the defence of eny worshyppe to be done to ymagis / wolde make all theyr eyen dase" (355/31-356/1). Those present all asked to see it. Whereupon the Law Student took down a copy of Gratian's Decretum, 17 and showed them a text in which St. Gregory the Great wrote to a certain bishop that had broken the images in his church, and though St. Gregory blamed him for breaking them, yet for all that he commended him because he would not allow them to be worshipped. 18 Chancellor More asks the Messenger: Dyd you quod I rede that law your selfe? In good fayth quod he [the Messenger] I stode by and loked on yt boke whyle he [the Law Student] redde yt. Dyd he quod I or you eyther rede the next law folowyng in the boke [i.e. the Decretum]? Nay veryly quod he / for me thought thys was ynough. (CW 6, 356/13-17) Then Chancellor More responds that if they had read the next law following it in the Decretum, or the gloss on the law itself they would have seen "yt the law whych he [the Law Student] shewed you made lytle for his purpose" (356/20-21). The Messenger replies that they did not look at the following law "for we thought to fynde yt contrary. And yf we shold / then shold we not yet haue wyst which we shold byleue" (356/25-26). To which Chancellor More responds that the law following it in Gratian's Decretum "ys a law synodal] made in the .vi. [seventh] Synode / in whyche there is well and playnely shewed that ymagis be to be worshypped among crysten men" (356/28-31). 19 The decrees of this Ecumenical Council, declare that: Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 194 though we do the ymage honour & reuerence / yet for dyuyne honour & seruyce onely done to god / that kynde of worshyppe called latrya we neyther do nor may do / neyther to ymage nor any creature in all the hole world eyther in heuen or erth. (CW 6, 357/2-6) (These decrees concerning dulia, hyperdulia and latria, it should be recalled, had been already treated beforehand in Heresies A 1 in Books 1:17 and II:11, as discussed in the previous chapter.) The Messenger objects, however, that in the law itself we read that St. Gregory plainly says the contrary. To which Chancellor More responds "in dede ye boke sayth no more but that they shold not be worshypped by thys laten word adorare. By whyche word he vnderstode the diuine worshyp called latrya" (357/13-15). Though the law following also uses the word adorare, it does so of that kind of worship [i.e. hyperdulia], that may be offered to images and not of latria. The Messenger objects again that the two laws appear to be plainly contradictory. To which Chancellor More replies that it would be very unlikely "yt saynt Gregory were of one mynd and the hole Synode [Ecumenical Council] of the contrary" (358/1-2). Chancellor More then promises to show the Messenger that St. Gregory meant the same as the Council: And therwyth I toke downe of a shelfe among my bokes the regystre of saynt Gregoryes epystles / and therM turned to the very wordes whych are by Gracyane taken owt of hys secunde epystle ad Serenum episcopum Massilie / and in corporate in the decrees. (CW 6, 358/10-14) By collation of these two texts, Chancellor More showed him that Gratian had taken only a part of that epistle, and that, from the other words of the epistle itself, it became evident that St. Gregory spoke only of the divine worship and observance due to God himself, which as learned men well know is called latria. The decree itself makes this clear when it stated that images are the books of lay people wherein they read the life of Christ. (It should be recalled that Chancellor More had already made use of this same decree in the treatment of The Image of Love in Book 1:2, discussed in the previous chapter.) The Messenger replies Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 195 that he is well satisfied in this. But to return to the matter, responds Chancellor More: neyther the bysshoppe of Massyle that brake the ymagis that they speke of / nor the counsayle of grece neyther scismatycall as it was / went neuer yet so farr as Luther and Tyndall and theyr company do / whych not onely set at naught ymagis but also leue no saynt vnblasphemed / nor Cristes own mother neyther. (CW 6, 359/27-33) At this point the 1531 addition ends, and Chancellor More returns to itemizing Luther's heresies. When he is finished, the Messenger replies that it is enough to hear these heresies rehearsed to make Luther hated by all good people. After finishing his account of the treatment of images in Book IV: 2, Chancellor More returns in Chapter 3 to the third matter of Heresies B. Book IV continues with a critique of Luther's doctrines, and of the spread of the Reformation on the continent (Chapters 3-9; CW 6, 360-76). This is in turn followed in Chapters 10-12 by an account of the examination of an English Lutheran preacher that focuses on the central Lutheran doctrine of justification by faith alone (376-405). Chapter 3 deals with how Luther first fell into heresy, Chapter 4 with Luther's appearence before the Emperor Charles V at Worms in 1521 and Chapter 5 with Luther's intransigence and the inconsistency of his opinions. Chapter 6 on Luther's scorn of the Church Fathers, and rejection of every interpretation of Scripture but his own. In Chapter 7 the horrors are described of the Peasant Revolt in Germany (1525), for which Luther is blamed, and of the Sack of Rome (1527) by mainly Lutheran Landsknecht of the Holy Roman Emperor. In Chapter 8, Chancellor More argues that among the Lutherans the doctrines of their sect itself are the cause of their cruelty and malice. In Chapter 9 Luther teaches monks and nuns to break their vows of chastity made solemnly to God, and to live in spiritual incest by marrying one another, when even the pagans severely punished those who broke vows of chastity made to their false gods. Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 196 5.3.4. The Examination of a Lutheran Preacher (IV: 10-12) (B.3b) The account that follows in Chapter 11 (for which Chapters 10 and 12 serve effectively as 'Prologue' and 'Epilogue' respectively) of the trial or examination of an unnamed Lutheran preacher is probably the most sustained example of reported dialogue or 'dialogue- within-a-dialogue' in all of More's works, with the possible exception of the 'Cardinal Morton Episode' in Book I of Utopia. The dialogue that follows, which focusses on the central Protestant doctrines of 'Justification by Faith alone' and Predestination, is obviously meant to serve as a general analysis of these heresies, and is not necessarily to be taken as the record of an actual ecclesiastical examination for heresy. 20 The rubric to Chapter 11 of Book IV gives one or two details about the 'Examination' not mentioned in the text: And for profe that how so euer they [the Lutherans] colour theyr wordes / they meane that all dependeth vppon only desteny / he reherseth a certayn dyspycyon [disputation] had wyth an heretyque detected to the bysshop 21 & examyned / the author beynge present / where the heretyque beyng lerned & a prechoure / made many shyftys to make yt seme that in hys euyll wordys he ment but well. (CW 6, 378/3-9) As a layman, Chancellor More was presumably present as an observer by invitation of the bishop, and may not have had any active role in the questioning of the heretic. There is no reason to suppose that the next twenty-five pages that follow in Chapter 11, to the extent that they may be based on a real trial, are necessarily a verbatim transcript of the actual examination or process; rather their function, as a "dialogue within a dialogue" 22 is to illustrate the labyrinthine ways of heresy and error, and to recapitulate many of the themes previously discussed by the Messenger and Chancellor More. This account forms the climax of Heresies B, and as such fittingly focuses on the central Lutheran doctrines of 'Justification by Faith Alone' and Predestination. The examination is reported as a "dialogue within a dialogue" by Chancellor More who relates both sides of the argument, 23 while the Messenger once or twice interjects his own Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 197 comments. The responses of the English Lutheran, referred to hereafter as the 'Lutheran Preacher', are indicated by such phrases as "To thys he sayde" (381/22) or "To this he answered" (382/26), while the replies of the ecclesiastical judges are signalized by the use of impersonal constructions such as "Than was yt sayde vnto hym" (381/1, 382/3, 383/4), and "Then was yt answered hym" (380/6, 387/12). 24 In the discussion that follows I have preserved these remarkable periphrastic constructions which are an integral part of the style of this passage, but to help clarify the argument I have clearly indicated when it is the Lutheran Preacher who is speaking. In Chapter 10, which effectively serves as a 'Prologue' to this section of Heresies B, Chancellor More first introduces the themes of Justification and Predestination. In concluding the account of Luther's heresies that was given in Chapters 2-9, he condemns the followers of Luther's sect in Germany: as those that wrechedly lay all the weyght and blame of oure synne to the necessyte and constraynt of goddys ordynaunce / affyrmyng that we do no synne of oure selfe by eny power of our owne will / but by the compulsyon and handy worke of god / And that we do not the synne our selfe / but that god dothe the synne in vs hym selfe. (CW 6, 377/1-6) This belief gives these wretches great boldness to follow their foul affections, since they think that it is vain for them to resist their own sinful appetites. For Luther says that "they that shall be dampned / shall be dampned he sayth for no deseruynge of theyr owne dedys / but for suche euyll dedys / as god onely forced and constreyned them vnto and wroughte in them hym selfe" (377/21-24), and that God will damn them finally because it was not his pleasure to choose them as he did his Chosen People. In the next chapter, the Messenger begins by suggesting that perhaps Luther did not intend to do the evils that he is blamed for, and that even if the Lutherans in Germany are wicked, that there are some Lutherans in England, who are honest men, and who are very far from Luther's manner of living:25 Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 198 yet thought your frend [the Messenger] that such as here fauour & folow his [Luther's] sect in England / of whom sum seme ryght honest & farr from hys maner of lyuyng / do not so take hys wordes nor vnderstande them that way [i.e. provoking sedition] / but construe them to sum better sence. (CW 6, 378/15-18) Chancellor More denies this and argues that "ye find few that fall to that sect / but that sone after they fall in to the contempt of prayer and fastynge and of all other good workys vnder the name of ceremonyes" (378/25-27). For all their appearances to the contrary, they mean no better than Luther himself. Chancellor More continues that in these matters: I haue had good experyens / and amonge many other thyngys thys that I shall shewe you. It happed me to be lately present / where as one in the Lutheranes bokis depely lerned / and of trouth neyther in holy scrypture nor in seculare lytterature vnlerned (as I perceyue not only by the testimony of other men and the degrees he hadde taken in the vnyuversyte / but also by hys wordys and hys wrytynge) was in the presence of ryght honorable vertuous and very cunnyng persons examyned. (CW 6, 378/33-379/6) At first the Lutheran Preacher tried to hide his heretical views unsuccessfully, but at last, seeing that they could not be concealed, he began to confess and declare the opinions of his sect; nonetheless, trying to make it seem that there was nothing strange or contrary to right belief in their opinions. Chancellor More starts his account of the Examination proper by reporting that the Lutheran Preacher began by claiming that: whan he came to thopynyon / by whych they holde that onely fayth alone ys suffycyent wythoute good workys / vnto yt he sayd in the begynnyng that they ment nothyng ellys therby / but that men shold put theyr fayth in goddys promyses and hope to be saued therby / and that they shold not put theyr trust in theyr workys / for that wolde turne them to pryde. (CW 6, 379/36-380/5) He was answered that he could not mean so because if this were their meaning, then they meant no differently than every common preacher had preached before Luther's days. What preacher has not taught them to do well, and taught them that, though God will reward good deeds, that they should not put their trust in themselves and their own deeds, but in Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 199 God's goodness. These things the Church has always taught against putting too much trust in our own deeds. If the Lutherans meant the same thing as the Church means, then you would preach as the Church preaches "and not blaspheme ye chyrche in your sermons / as though ye bygan true prechynge of the gospell / and that the chyrch had hytherto preched false" (380/29-31). Luther says plainly that faith alone without any good works justifies us and suffices for our salvation. Then the Lutheran Preacher replied that "fayth ys suffycyent alone / yf one happen after he haue faythe and baptysme to dye ere he haue tyme to do eny good workys" (380/36-381/1). Then he was answered that he could not mean so for then why should they blame the church, which teaches not the contrary. To this the Lutheran Preacher replied that: they thought also that fayth alone doth iustyfye a man wythoute eny good workys / not onely in chyldren but also in euery age. For whan so euer a man that hath ben a synner dothe repente and amend in hys mynde wyth a full faythe in the promysys of god / he ys iustyfyed ere euer he do eny of these good workys / almoyse / fastyng / or eny such other. (CW 6, 381/22-27) Then he was asked whether, if his faith is to be effective, a man should have charity and the intention of doing good works joined with it. The Lutheran Preacher replied "Yes quod he that he must yf he haue age & dyscrecyon therto" (382/8-9). Then he was answered that: then was all goone that hym self had sayd bifore. For than dyd not fayth alone iustyfye the man / but the charyte wyth ye purpose of good workys / must by his owne grauntyng nedys go therwith / or ellys wold hys fayth iustyfye nothynge at all. (CW 6, 382/9-14) But then the Lutheran Preacher replied to this that only faith was sufficient and that faith alone justifies because if a man has faith, he must of necessity do good works. For faith can never be idle, just as the fire must always burn and give heat. Faith always has good hope and charity combined with it, and can not but work well, no more than fire can be without heat. Then he was answered that: Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 200 where ye saye yt fayth hath alway good hope wyth it / that semeth not alway trewe. For he that hopeth that by fayth alone he shall be saued wythout eny good workys / as Lutheranis do byleue in dede / he hath an euyll hope & a dampnable." (CW 6, 383/11-14) If it is true that faith alone is sufficient because faith always has charity joined with it, then why do you not preach as well that charity alone is sufficient, which is as near to the truth as the other opinion. Charity is the thing that specially brings forth good works rather than faith. Charity is not always joined with faith: Thapostell Poule in many places of his epistles sayth ye contrary therof. For he sayth that yf a man haue so grete fayth that he myght by the force of his fayth worke myracles / and also such feruent affeccyon to the fayth yt he wolde gyue his body to the fyre for the defence therof / yet yf he lacked charite / all hys fayth suffysed not. (CW 6, 383/28-34) The Messenger at this point objects that the Lutheran Preacher should have argued that St. Paul was just using hyperbole, that he meant only to show the great need that men have for charity, and that he did not intend to suggest that it were possible for faith to occur without charity. Chancellor More replies "Forsoth quod I the man lacked you there / for he founde not that glose" (384/26-27). He goes on to explain that St. Paul's purpose was to teach the Corinthians that they should not trust that any gift of nature, or gift of God above nature, or any manner of virtue, alms deeds, faith, or anything else were able to stand them in good stead without charity. Chancellor More then paraphrases the famous passage on charity in 1 Corinthinas, Chap. 13, and concludes, "ye may se nowe that your glose wold not haue releued thys man" (385/20-21). St. Paul plainly shows in this passage that: fayth may be wythout cheryte / and that both so grete that yt may suffyse to the doyng of greate wonders / and so feruent that yt may suffre a paynfull deth / and yet for fawte of charyte not suffycyent to saluacyon / and that thys may happe as well in fayth as in almoyse dede / whych the appostle putteth in the same case. (CW 6, 385/29-34) Contrary to the Messenger's argument and the words of the Lutheran Preacher, St. Paul Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 201 shows that all the works of faith, seem they never so good, are nothing indeed if they are not done with charity. He commends only the faith that works by charity, signifying that all other works of faith are not efficacious. Then a further objection was raised against the Lutheran Preacher, that St. James says that those who consider faith without good works sufficient for salvation are worse than devils, and that without good works faith is dead. At this point in the 1531 edition Thomas More inserted an addition (386/18-388/34) dealing with the argument of the Epistle of St. James. The Lutheran Preacher cannot object that if a man has no good works, he has no faith, because a dead faith is no faith, for St. James "denyeth not but that suche a dede fayth as he calleth dede bycause yt is vnprofytable / ys yet a very fayth in dede / though yt be not quykke in good workys" (386/32-387/1). The Lutheran Preacher then answered that: sum ryght well lerned men were of the mynde / yt wythout a man wrought good workys yt was a good profe yt he had no fayth at all / for very fayth could not but worke / and yt the deuyll had no fayth but by equyuocatione of thys word fayth. (CW 6, 387/5-8) Then he was answered that those well-learned men were Luther and Tyndale and their companions, but that the apostles St. Paul and St. James taught the contrary. St. James knew much better than Luther and Tyndale what manner of perceiving the devils have in the articles of our faith, and that when Luther and Tyndale claim that the devil has no faith they go about to set St. James to school: For they wold we sholde wene that saynt James dyd speke of fayth lyke one that wyste not what fayth ment / but were deceyued by equiuocation of ye word / callyng fayth the thyng yt is not fayth in dede / where as in dede saynt Iamys speketh of yt as he sholde / and vseth the word in hys ryghte sygnyfycation / and these Lutheranys abuse the word of a malycyouse mynde to deceyue vnlerned people wyth equyuocation. (CW 6, 387/32-388/2) Faith signifies the belief which is given not only to such things as God promises, but also to every truth that he tells his Church, either by writing or without writing, which he would Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 202 have us bound to believe. The Lutherans seek to blind us with their equivocation by which they abuse the word fayth all to gether / turnyng it slyly from bylyefe in to truste / confidence / & hope / and wolde haue yt seme as though our fayth were no thyng ellys but a sure truste and a faythefull hope that we haue in goddys promises. (CW 6, 388/12-16) The Lutherans would make us believe that our faith were nothing but hope, whereas every man knows that faith and hope are two distinct virtues, and that hope is not faith but follows faith in him that has hope. It is possible to have faith without hope, one may as the devil does, believe in Heaven and know it too, yet be far from all hope thereof. Even hope is not enough, for hope without charity will but beguile them. Having finished his proof that faith alone is insufficient without hope and charity, Chancellor More then turns in the second half of Chapter 11 to proving that good works are also necessary for salvation. 5.3.5. Faith, Works, and Predestination (IV: 11b-12) (B.3b cont) At this point in his account of the 'Examination of The Lutheran Preacher', Chancellor More then turns to the topic of the relationship between faith and works, and then after that to Predestination. The Lutheran Preacher, in response to the arguments of his Ecclesiastical Judges in the previous section, replies that when they say that only faith is sufficient, they mean not a dead faith that is without charity and good works but "a very fayth that is quicke and worketh by charite / & that such fayth he thought was suffycient" (389/1-3). Then he was answered that he could not mean so, for did not Luther say that it is grete synne and sacrylege to go about to please god by good workes / & not by only faythe? How coud they say that onely fayth suffyseth / yf they shold meane that without charyte and good workis no fayth suffyseth? For yt were a mad thyng to saye that fayth alone suffyseth withoute good workis / and therwyth to say that wythout good workes fayth suffyseth nothynge. (CW 6, 389/8-14) Luther says that nothing can damn a Christian man except lack of belief. Then the Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 203 Lutheran Preacher objected that though faith is nothing without good works, yet when it is joined with good works, all the merit comes from our faith only, and no part thereof from our works. He was answered that Luther says: yt yt is sacrylege to go about to please god by eny good workis but fayth only. And than why sholde good workes be ioyned to fayth / or why shold god exacte good workes of vs? wherof shold they serue yf they be nothyng plesaunt to god? (CW 6, 390/3-6) Then the Lutheran Preacher was asked what moved him to think that when faith and good works are joined together, the good works are worth nothing, but that all the merit is to be found in the faith. To which he replied that if our good works should be the cause of our salvation, then as St. Paul says Christ died for nothing. For he did not need to die for us, if our own works could have saved us. Nor were we redeemed freely, if we could redeem ourselves with the payment of our own works. Then he was answered that, though Christ freely redeemed us "onely of goddys mere [utter] lyberall goodnes" (391/22-23), and though "yt be sayd by the mouth of our sauyour / he that byleueth shall be saued / where he nothynge speketh of eny good workys / yet meaneth he not that he yt byleueth shall be saued / wythout good workys yf he Iyue to do theym" (391/27-30). For else it would be possible to be saved by keeping the commandments without faith since Christ said that if you wish to enter into the Kingdom of Heaven you must keep the commandments. At which time Christ spoke no words about faith. Christ also says in the holy scriptures: Gyue almoyse / and all is clene in you. Whych wordys yf men sholde as largely conster [construe] for the preemynence of almoyse dede / as ye that are of Luthers secte conster the textys that speke of faythe / they myghte take a false glose and coloure to saye / that wythout faythe or penaunce eyther / or eny other vertue / almoyse dede alone suffyseth for saluacyon / how wretchedly so euer we lede oure lyfe besyde. (CW 6, 392/1-7) To this the Lutheran Preacher replied that none of these texts prove the contrary of his claim that when faith and good works are joined together, all the merit comes only from our Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 204 faith and nothing comes from our works. Then he was answered that even if no text of scripture proved the contrary, yet since there is none that says so, and the whole Church says and believes the contrary, what reason, he was asked, do you have to say so? However, there are passages in scripture that are openly to the contrary: Sayth not Cryste of theym that dothe almoyse / A good measure shaken together / heped and runnyng ouer shall they gyue in to your bosome? Dothe not our lorde shewe that in the day of iugement he wyll geue the kyngdome of heuen to theym that haue done almoyse / in mete / drynke / clothe / and lodgynge / bycause of theyr charite vsed in those dedes? (CW 6 392/34-393/4) Although these good deeds will not be rewarded without faith, Christ promised to reward those works, and not just faith only. The man, on the other hand, who works wonders by faith but without good works or charity, "hys fayth shall fayle of heuen" (393/14-15). Then the Lutheran Preacher replied that if a man has faith, his faith shall not fail, nor cease to bring forth the fruit of good works. Then he was answered that he had made this point before but that "fayth or byleue ys not contrary to euery synne / but only to infydelyte and lacke of bylyef / so that wyth other synnes it maye stand" (393/22-24). The Lutheran Preacher replied that if men believed surely, he thought they would not sin. For who would sin if he truly believed that sin should bring him to Hell? Then it was answered that, though this might stop many from sinning, that yet there are many men on the other hand who, though their faith were never so strong, it would still not be strong enough to master their evil desires. For all his faith, St. Paul was so afraid when he was tempted with "the thorn in the flesh" (cf. 2. Cor. 12: 7-9), that he prayed three times for God to take the temptation away. The Patriarchs believed in God and yet they sinned: "I can not se but that Adam byleued the wordys of god / & yet he brake hys commaundement. And I thynke that kyng Dauyd fell not from his fayth though he fell fyrst in aduoutry [adultery] and efte [after] in manslaughter" (394/14-18). Then the Lutheran Preacher further objected that: Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 205 yf our good workys and faythe be ioyned / yet myghte yt well appere by scrypture that all the meryte was in our faythe / and nothynge in mannys workys. For all the workes of man he sayde be starke nought / as thyngys all spotted wythe synne. (CW 6, 394/31-34) He was answered that he had clearly changed his former opinion. Previously, he had said that faith alone was enough, because it brought good works of necessity with it, but that "now ye saye that there be no good workys at all but all oure workys be starke nought" (395/12-14). Then he was answered that though "all suche iustyce of ours as ys onely ours / is all spotted and in effect all one fowle spot / for eny bewtye that yt hath in the glorious eye of god" (395/29-32), this does not mean as Luther and his followers would have it seem, that the grace of God working among all his people is so feeble and has so little effect, that no man may with the help thereof be able to do one good, virtuous deed. Luther plainly teaches that no one, even with the help of God's grace, can obey the commandments of God. When you say that we can do no good with the help of God's grace, "than were grace by your tale a very voyde thynge" (396/17). The Lutheran Preacher is then asked: Was than all the laboure and the payne that the appostles toke in prechynge / all naught and synfull? all the turmentys that the martyrs suffered in theyr passyon all togyther syn? all the dedys of charyte that Cryste shall (as hym selfe sayth) reward with euerlastynge lyfe at the generall iudgement be they synne all togyther? Saynt Poule rekened it otherwyse. For he sayd boldely of hym selfe / bonum certamen certaui / cursum consummaui / et nunc superest mihi corona iusticie / I haue laboured and stryuen a good stryfe / I haue perfourmed my course / nowe lacketh me no more for me but the crowne of iustyce. (CW 6 396/17-27) Of all the foolish words that Luther spoke, he never spoke more foolishly than when he claimed that God has need of our faith, even though he has no need of our good works: Trouthe is it that he nedeth neyther oure faythe nor our workys. But syth that he hath determyned that he wyll not saue vs without bothe yf we be of dyscrecyon to haue both / therfore haue we nede of bothe. And yet neyther is there the one nor the other nor they bothe togyther bytwene theym / that be of theyr owne nature worthy the rewarde of heuyn. (CW 6, Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 206 397/19-24) To this the Lutheran Preacher objected that God accepts none of the works of infidels because without faith it is impossible to please God; but that God accepts all the deeds of those of his faithful chosen people who believe and trust in him. At this point Chancellor More comments that: in the rehersynge of the communycacyon had with this man / it maye well be that my remembraunce maye partely mysse the order / partely peraduenture adde or mynysshe in som parte of the matter / yet in this poynte I assure you faythfully / there is no maner chaunge or varyaunce from his oppynyon / but that after many shyftes he brought it playnly to this poynte at laste / that he and hys felowes that were of Luthers secte / were fermely of this oppynyon / yt they byleued that onely god worketh all in euery man good workes and bad. (CW 6 398/18-26) Then the Lutheran Preacher was asked whether St. Peter's denial of Christ or David's adultery and manslaughter were well approved by God. To which he replied that because they were chosen and predestined, therefore those sins were not imputed unto them, and neither were the sins of any other such predestined men, and that all the works of a person predestined by God to glory, turn to good for him, no matter how evil they are. The final conclusion of the Lutheran Preacher's argument was that: all thynge hangeth onely vppon desteny / and that the lybertye of mannys wyll sholde serue of ryght nought / nor mennys dedys good or badde made no dyfference afore god / but that in his chosen people nothynge myslyketh hym be it neuer so badde / and in the other sorte nothynge pleaseth hym be it neuer so good. (CW 6, 400/4-9) Then it was answered him that where he alleged of St. Paul, that there is no damnation to those that are in Christ Jesus, this saying was meant "of good faythfull folke that lyue vertuously / and therefore where he sayth that there is no dampnacyon to theym that be in Cryste Iesu / yt foloweth forthwith in the texte / those that walke not after the flesshe" (400/18-21). If God accepts all the works of the predestined then their sin is no sin, but only Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 207 those who are not predestined actually sin: And than is it as moche to saye as no man may lawfully be nought / no man lawfully do thefte or aduoutry / nor lawfully be a manquellor / nor lawfully forswere hym selfe / but goddes good sonnes and his specyall chosen chyldren. (CW 6, 400/27-30) God does not remit the sin of his chosen people nor does he forbear to impute the blame for sin to them "For he accepteth not folke for theyr persons but for theyr merytys" (401/20-21). God sometimes punishes more severely those who were formerly good in order that by punishment they should be called again to grace: God called on Dauyd by the prophete Nathan / and yet punyshed his offence. Cryst loked on Peter after he had forsaken and forsworne hym / and Peter therewith toke repentaunce. God loked on Judas and kyssed hym to / and he turned to none amendement. Nowe god frome the begynnynge before the worlde was created / foreseynge in hys dyuyne prescyence or rather in the eternyte of hys godhed presently beholdynge / that Peter wolde repent and Judas wolde dyspayre / and that the one wolde take holde of hys grace and the other wolde reiecte it / accepted and chose the one and not the other / as he wold haue made the contrary choyce / yf he had foresene in them the contrary chaunce. (CW 6, 401/29-402/5) In Chapter 12 Chancellor More finally concludes the 'Examination of the Lutheran Preacher' by condemning the false opinion of the English Lutheran Preacher—that all who shall be saved are only saved because God predestined them, and that all their deeds are good, or if evil yet God imputes no blame to them, and that God has predestined all other people to be damned, and does not accept their good deeds because he has not chosen them—as the most abominable heresy that ever was. This execrable heresy makes God the cause of all evil, and makes him seem worse than the cruelest tyrant or tormentor. Those who believe with Luther that no man does any evil himself, but that it is God himself who does it all, will not care what they do, except for fear of the temporal laws of this world. But if their false faith is strong enough, they will set all human laws at nothing also. What purpose should having laws serve then, and what would become of all good order among Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 208 men if every misguided wretch could claim that his mischievous deeds were the workings of destiny? If free will serves for nothing and every man's deeds are his destiny, why do they complain about those who punish heretics, since it is their destiny to do so? They seek to turn the world upside down, and defend their foly and heresy by force. And this they call the liberty of the Gospel—to be discharged of all order and all laws, and do whatever they like, whether good or bad, and attribute it all to the works of God wrought in them. But if their heresies were once accepted, how much suffering would befall before the World were set once again in order and peace? 5.4. THE CONCLUSION TO THE DIALOGUE CONCERNING HERESIES After concluding his account of 'The Examination of the Lutheran Preacher', Chancellor More then turns (Book IV, Chapters 13-18a; CW 6, 405-430) to the fourth matter of Heresies B, the last of the issues raised by the Messenger in his "letter of credence" at the beginning of Book I of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, namely the justification for heresy trials and the war with the Turks ("the warre and fyghtyng agynst infydels / with the condempnacyon of heretykes vnto dethe" 36/2-3). Chapter 13 is a defence of heresy trials. In Chapter 14 Chancellor More argues that it is lawful for Christian princes to fight against the Turks and other infidels. In Chapter 15 that Christian princes are bound to punish heretics. In Chapter 16 Chancellor More describes how simple unlearned people are often deceived by the learning of heretics, who prey on them like wolves in sheep's clothing, disguising the true intent of their teachings. In Chapter 17 Chancellor More argues that though the Lutherans often seem to lead holy lives, they are the worst heretics that ever sprang out of Christ's Church. In Chapter 18a (428/20-430/28) Chancellor More states that in punishing heretics the Church does no more than the old holy doctors did before. 26 After this final matter of Heresies B has been dealt with, Chancellor More "to the Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 209 entent that ye shall perceyue it moth the better / and ouer yt byleue your owne eyen and not my wordys in many thyngys that ye haue herde of my mouth" (430/29-31) gives the Messenger several books to read in which he had marked the relevant passages "redy with ryshes bytwene the leuys / and notes marked in the mergentys where the matter is touched" (430/35-36). Among the books which Chancellor More gave the Messenger were certain works of St. Cyprian, St. Augustine, and other holy doctors, and also "therewythall a worke or twayne of Luther / and as many of Tyndall" (431/3-4). After the Messenger has had a chance to read over the relevant passages, they meet again on the following evening. The Messenger tells Chancellor More that he has seen in the books that he has been given that the clergy do no more at the present for the punishment of heretics, than the old holy fathers did in time past. And further he said that: he had sene of Luthers owne wordys worse than he had euer herde rehersed / and in Tyndall worse yet in many thyngys than he sawe in Luther hym selfe. And in Tyndals boke of obedyence 21 he sayd that he had founden what thynge Tyndall sayth agaynste myracles and agaynst the prayenge to sayntys. (CW 6, 431/16-20) Chancellor More replies "I wolde it had happed you and me to haue red ouer that boke of his before" (431/22-23), and offers to go through Tyndale's Obedience of a Christian Man with the Messenger and "peruse ouer his reasons in those poyntys / and consyder what weyght is in them" (431/24-25). To which the Messenger replies contemptuously that his own former arguments in favour of the Lutheran position were stronger than Tyndale's: Nay by my trouth quod your frende we shall nede nowe to lose no tyme therM. For as for myracles / he sayth nothynge in effect but yt whiche I layd agaynst them before / yt the myracles were the workys of ye deuyll. Sauyng that where I sayd yt it myght peraduenture be sayd so / he sayth that in dede it is so / & preueth it yet lesse then I dyd. And therfore as for yt worke of his without better profe is of lytell weyght. (CW 6, 431/26-32) Chancellor More responds that Tyndale's word alone ascribing all miracles to the working of the devil ought not, to weigh much among Christian men against the writings of St. Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 210 Augustine, St. Jerome, St. Ambrose, St. Chrysostom, St. Gregory, and many other holy doctors writing in defence of miracles and pilgrimages. The Messenger replies that what Tyndale says against praying to saints is very bare. It must needs be bare unless he avoids miracles, continues Chancellor More, of which he will have neither God willing nor the devil able to show any as proof for their part. The Messenger finally dismisses Tyndale's arguments "as for reasonyng the matter of prayng to sayntes / he is not worth ye redynge now. For all ye substaunce in effecte yt ye [Chancellor More] proue it by / is by hym clene vntouched" (432/21-23). The arguments that Tyndale brings forth of his own making are so faint that they are plainly confuted by all the old holy doctors. The Messenger has obviously been completely won over by Chancellor More's arguments and contemptuously concludes "whan I consyder bothe ye partes well / & rede Luthers wordes & Tyndals in some places where ye layde me the rysshes / I can not but wonder yt eyther any Almayne [German] coulde lyke the one / or any englysshe man the other" (432/31-34). Chancellor More concludes with a prayer that God may sende these sedycyous sectes the grace to ceace / & the fauourers of those faccyons to amende / & vs the grace yt stoppynge our eres from the false enchauntementes of all these heretykes / we may by the very fayth of Crystes catholyke chyrche so walke with charyte in the way of good warkes in this wretched worlde / that we maye be parteners of the heuenly blysse / whiche the blood of goddes owne sonne hath bought vs vnto. (CW 6, 435/21-28) He then invites the Messenger to dinner "And this prayer quod I seruynge vs for grace / let vs nowe syt downe to dyner. Which we dyd. And after dyner departed he home towarde you [the Friend] / and I to the courte" (435/28-31). Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 211 5.5. CONCLUSION While the treatment of the topics in Heresies B, which it should be remembered were not selected by Chancellor More for discussion, but were first raised by the Messenger at the beginning of Book I, and to which Chancellor More finally only responded in Books III and IV of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, is more disjointed than the treatment of the topics in Heresies A, nonetheless, it can be seen that even here there is a coherent structure to the course of the argument in Heresies B. The treatment of Bilney's trial in the first half of Book III (B.1), and the general discussion of heresy trials in the second half of Book IV (B.4), in a sense provide an outer layer or 'shell' to the core of Heresies B, namely the discussion of Tyndale's translation of the New Testament (B.2), and Luther's heresies (B.3), especially `Justification by Faith Alone' and Predestination (B.3b) in Chapters 10-12 of Book IV—in a manner analogous to the relationship between the 'outer shell' of Book I of Utopia and the `Cardinal Morton Episode', and also the relationship between the two parts of Heresies A, namely Heresies A 1 and Heresies A 2 . The matters that have been omitted from the discussion of this chapter are mainly of historical interest. Although they occasioned the writing of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, the real focus of More's argument lies elsewhere. More's criticism of Tyndale's translation of the New Testament and his own advocacy of a Catholic translation of the Bible, together with his analysis of the Lutheran doctrines of Predestination and Justification in the "dialogue-within-a-dialogue" of the "Examination of the Lutheran Preacher" in Book IV, Chapters 10-12, is clearly at the heart of his argument in Heresies B. If the focus of Heresies A is on defending the whole system of traditional Catholic beliefs surrounding the relationship between saints, miracles, images, and pilgrimages; and also on reiterating the orthodox Catholic teaching that the Oral Tradition of the Church is as necessary as and as much a part of divine revelation as the written Scriptures; then the focus of Heresies B is to show that the revolutionary changes advocated by the early English Protestants were aimed very clearly and deliberately at subverting and destroying this Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 212 whole system of traditional English Catholic beliefs. In the argument of Heresies B, Chancellor More is opposed to Tyndale's translation (B.2) precisely because it is deliberately subversive. He is clearly not opposed to biblical translation as such, since he advocates having a Catholic translation made. Similarly, in analysing the Lutheran doctrines of Justification and Predestination (B.3b), Chancellor More clearly shows that when these doctrines are taken to their logical extreme they lead to political revolution and the subversion of both Church and State, as witnessed in the horrors of the Peasant Revolt in Germany (1523) and the Sack of Rome by German Landsknecht (1527), described in the first part of Book IV (Chapters 3-9 = B.3a). It is against this background that Chancellor More justifies the Trial of Thomas Bilney in the first part of Book III (B.1) and the Church's traditional treatment of heretics, discussed in the last part of Book IV (B.4). The Dialogue Concerning Heresies was the first of five polemical works dealing with the English Reformation written in English in the period 1528-1533. In these works and in the two earlier Latin polemics, More dealt in one way or another with all the crucial issues raised by the Protestant Reformation, which were to separate Catholics and Protestants for centuries afterwards. Among the major issues, addressed by More in his polemical works, including the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, are the translation of the Bible, the oral tradition of the Church, the nature of the Eucharist, the role of the Holy Spirit in guiding the consensus fidelium, the doctine of Purgatory, and devotion to Our Lady and the Saints, etc. More was prophetic right at the very beginning of the English Reformation in pointing out all the crucial issues that were to divide Catholics and Protestants. Many of these same issues were also to be crucial in the next century in the conflicts between Anglicans and Puritans. Though some of the theological positions held by the High Church party, e.g. acceptance of Royal Supremacy, were quite different, many of the battles were the same. More's polemical works are a veritable theological gold mine for anyone interested in the history of the English Reformation, as well as being a literary treasure house for anyone Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 213 who wants to study the beginnings of modern English prose and the evolution of the English language in the Early Modern period. Though More's own theological views were impeccably orthodox, many of his emphases in the polemical works were surprisingly modern. His deep devotion to the Eucharist, unusual in the early sixteenth century, anticipates much that was best in Counter-Reformation, and even High Anglican (e.g. Herbert and Donne) piety. His sense of the church, especially in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies and in the Confutation of Tyndale's Answer, as the 'Common Corps [body] of Christendom' is surprisingly organic, anticipating many of the later positions of Vatican II. (In contrast to Fisher's polemical works, More has very little to say about the 'hierarchical' Church.) His emphasis, also developed in the Confutation, on the role of the Holy Spirit in guiding the consensus of the faith of the Church down through the ages again seems very unusual in the early Sixteenth Century, either among Protestants or Catholics, and also fits in with his own very organic understanding, as a lay theologian, of the nature of the Church. More hammered out his own theological positions at white heat in the course of the five crucial years 1528-1533 that marked the beginnings of the English Reformation. By the end of this period he had resigned from his position as Lord Chancellor of England, and was living in semi-retirement while writing his polemical treatises. A year later in 1534 he was arrested and imprisoned in the Tower of London. While in prison he returned again to the dialogue form to write the last of the four works under consideration in this study, the Dialogue of Comfort, to be taken up in the next chapter. In that work on one level More turned inwards away from the conflicts of the polemical works to analyse the nature of comfort in tribulation, but on another level in the Dialogue of Comfort he was to offer a profound and moving extended meditation on the nature of human suffering, persecution for the faith, and Christian martyrdom that ultimately transcends the limited positions of the Reformation conflicts. Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 214 NOTES 1. There is a brief, incomplete summary of Books^of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies in J. Gairdner, "Appendix: Abstract of More's Dialogue," Lollardry and the Reformation in England, 4 vols. (London: MacMillan, 1908-13; rpt. New York: Burt Franklin, 1974), 1: 543-78, esp. 567-78. Gairdner briefly summarizes Book III, chaps. 2-5, 8-14; Book IV, chaps. 1, 13-14, 17-18. 2. More had particularly close connections with Oxford where he studied in 1492-94, before attending the Inns of Court in London. Either Oxford or Cambridge may be intended here. 3. The form of this reported dialogue shows certain similarities to the two "dialogues- within-dialogues" in Books 11:16 and 111:14 of the Dialogue of Comfort described in the next chapter. 4. By having Chancellor More address the Friend at this point, in describing the Messenger's "dialogue-within-a-dialogue" with the "Unnamed Critic," More the author is rather artfully reminding us that the Dialogue Concerning Heresies is itself one long "reported dialogue." 5. There is a brief summary of Heresies B.1 available in J. Gairdner, "Appendix: Abstract of More's Dialogue," 567-69. 6. The first edition of Tyndale's New Testament survives only in fragmentary form. See The Beginning of the New Testament. Translated by William Tyndale, 1525. Facsimile of the Unique Fragment of the Uncompleted Cologne Edition, introduction by A. F. Pollard (Oxford: Clarendon Press, 1926). For the 1534 edition see The New Testament. Translated by William Tyndale, 1534, ed. N. H. Wallis (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1938). 7. See "Appendix C: The Heresy Statutes," in The Apology, Vol. 9 of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, ed. J. B. Trapp (New Haven: Yale UP, 1979), 247-60. 8. For general background to the history of late Mediaeval vernacular translations, see "The Vernacular Scriptures," The Cambridge History of the Bible: Vol. 2, The West: From the Fathers to the Reformation, ed. G. W. H. Lampe (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1969), 362-491. 9. See CW 4, 226/19-26. 10. See CW 6, 690, note to 314/23-27, and 692, note to 317/11-12. It is possible that More also had in mind some of the vernacular biblical paraphrases that were so popular in the late Middle Ages, cf. n.8. 11. For the Case of Richard Hunne and More's treatment of it in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies and the Supplication of Souls see J. D. M. Derrett, "Appendix B: The Affair of Richard Hunne and Friar Standish," in The Apology, Vol. 9 of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, ed. J. B. Trapp (New Haven: Yale UP, 1979), 213-46; S. M. Jack, "The Conflict of Common Law and Canon Law in Early Sixteenth-Century England: Richard Hunne Revisited," Parergon n.s. 3 (1985): 131-45; R. J. Schoeck, "Common Law and Canon Law in the Writings of Thomas More: The Affair of Richard Hunne," Proceedings of the Third International Congress of Medieval Canon Law, Strasbourg, 3-6 September 1968, ed. Stephen Kuttner, Monumenta Iuris Canonici, ser. C., subsidia 4 (Vatican City: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1971), 237-54; S. J. Smart, "John Foxe and The Story of Richard Hun, Martyr,"' JEH 37 (1986): 1-14; R. Wunderli, "Pre-Reformation London Summoners and the Murder of Richard Hunne," JEH 33 (1982): Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 215 209-24; S. Brigden, London and the Reformation. 98-103. 12. For pre-Wycliffite translations, see G. Shepherd, "English Versions of the Scriptures Before Wyclif," The Cambridge History of the Bible, 2: 362-87; and for the Wycliffite versions, see H. Hargreaves, "The Wycliffite Versions," ibid., 387-415. 13. John Fisher also agreed with More on the matter of vernacular translations, see R. Rex, ed., "St. John Fisher's Treatise on the Authority of the Septuagint," JTS 43 (1992): 68-70, 100-101. 14. A scheme very much like this was actually later carried out by the English bishops after the break with Rome. 15. This is the second of three 'major' additions to the 1531 edition. The other two occur at 39/26-47/22 and 386/18-388/34, cf. Chapter 4, n.46. 16. The synod of Hiereia in 753 A.D., called by the Emperor Constantine V condemned the use of images. Its decrees were in turn condemned by the Second Council of Nicaea (787 A.D.), the seventh Ecumenical Council (not the eighth as Chancellor More mistakenly identifies it)—see CW 6, 703, note to 355/7-10, and E. Ruth Harvey, "Appendix A: The Image of Love," CW 6, 742-44, where the Eighth Century Iconoclastic Controversy is briefly discussed as background to More's treatment of the Image of Love in Book 1:2. 17. For Gratian's Decretum, which was one of the most important canonical collections of Mediaeval Canon Law, compiled in the mid-Twelfth Century, see the New Catholic Encyclopedia, 17 vols. (New York: McGraw-Hill Book Co., 1967), 6: 706-708. For More's own knowledge of Canon Law, see R. J. Schoeck, "Common Law and Canon Law in Their Relation to Thomas More," St. Thomas More: Action and Contemplation, ed. R. S. Sylvester (New Haven: Yale UP for St. John's University, 1972), 17-55 and "Common Law and Canon Law in the Writings of Thomas More: The Affair of Richard Hunne" (cf. n.11). 18. For St. Gregory's two letters to Bishop Serenus (Registrum Epistolarum, Books IX: 105 and XI: 13), see PL 77, 1027-28, 1128-30; and CW 6, 704, note to 356/5-12. There is an English translation by J. Barmby in A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 13: Gregory the Great, Ephraim Syrus, Aphrahat, ed. P. Schaff, and H. Wace (1888?; rpt. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1956), 23, 53-54. 19. More follows Gratian in mistakenly identifying the synod as the Sixth not the Seventh Ecumenical Council, cf. CW 6, p. 704, note to 356/16-357/8. On 355/9-10, already previously quoted, the same council was also incorrectly identified as the Eighth Ecumenical Council, see n.17 above. 20. For More's treatment of Justification and Predestination in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and his Patristic and Scholastic sources, see G. Kernan, "Saint Thomas More Theologian," Thought 17 (1942): 281-302. Though one would have thought that the theme of Book IV: 10-12 was completely obvious, G. R. Elton for one completely misses the point of More's "dialogue-within-a-dialogue." One is amazed to read in his review of CW 6 of More's "total failure to consider the problems of justification and predestination on the level employed by the Lutherans", EHR 98 (1983): 155. He also misses the point of More's discussion of the Image of Love, see Chapter 4, n.47. 21. If the examination is supposed to have taken place in London, then the bishop would be Cuthbert Tunstall, the bishop of London in 1528, and a close friend of Sir Thomas More; see also previous note. Dialogue Concerning Heresies: Books III and IV / 216 22. In this case the "dialogue within a dialogue" is clearly a Streitdialoge or conflict dialogue. For patristic and mediaeval examples of streitdialogen, see E. Reiss, "Conflict and its Resolution in Medieval Dialogues," in Arts liberaux et philosophic au Moyen Age (Montreal: Institute d'etudes medievales; Paris: J. Vrin, 1969), 863-872. 23. The Yale editors identify this individual (citing Tyndale's Answer) as Dr. Robert Forman who was examined for heresy and suspended by Cuthbert Tunstall on March 19, 1528, see CW 6, 714). However, there is no proof that More necessarily had a specific person in mind. In an otherwise fine study, Susan Brigden rather naively assumes that More's account is a factual record of Forman's examination, see London and the Reformation, 113-15. 24. The impersonal passive construction here is very similar to the use of the Greek middle mood. It is especially reminiscent of such expressions as legetai ("it is said") and graphetai ("it is written") in the New Testament and elsewhere. I know of no other comparable example of such usage in English. 25. In an earlier section (Book IV: 7; CW 6, 368-72), Chancellor More had blamed the German Lutherans for the excesses of the Peasant's Revolt in 1525, and of the Sack of Rome in 1527. 26. There is a brief summary of Heresies B.4 available in J. Gairdner, "Appendix: Abstract of More's Dialogue," 575-77. 27. The obedience of a Christen man and how Christen rulers ought to gouerne, (Antwerp: 1528). 6. A DIALOGUE OF COMFORT 6.1. THE ARGUMENT OF THIS CHAPTER Despite the general recognition that the Dialogue of Comfort is a great spiritual masterpiece, many have felt that the work is disorganised and rambling, and lacking in any clear structure. E. E. Reynolds echoes the general view when he states that "any attempt to summarize the contents of the Dialogue of Comfort would not be helpful; it lacks a carefully developed argument that can be systematically set down." 1 In the same vein, G. R. Elton in reviewing the Yale Edition rather disparagingly remarks "Manley [one of the Yale editors] very nearly succeeds in imposing upon the Dialogue of Comfort the sort of thematic structure that its author rather signally failed to achieve. i 2 Later in the same review, Elton goes on to suggest that the pretence of genuine argument between the two friends in the dialogue wears quite thin, and that Vincent, the young man in the dialogue seeking counsel, though "not quite reduced to the 'yea verily, Socrates' of More's Platonic model" too rarely interrupts "the flow of his uncle's discourse, and when he does get a longer speech of his own he tends to continue rather than oppose the older man's line of argument." 3 Contrary to the views of E. E. Reynolds and G. R. Elton and many others, I contend that the Dialogue of Comfort has a very carefully developed (albeit extremely convoluted and labyrinthine) structure, that can be effectively summarized. To this end I have included in this chapter a summary of the argument of the dialogue which captures all the major twists and turns in the dialogue (not argument) between the two speakers, Vincent and Anthony, and clearly indicates that Vincent is not a straw man, that he makes a genuine contribution, through the objections he raises, to the unfolding of the dialogue. 4 In the main part of this chapter I provide an interpretive reading of the three books of the dialogue that emphasizes the contributions that each speaker makes to the unfolding of the dialogue, and also points to the main divisions within the structure of the work. Though Anthony, the older man giving counsel in the dialogue, does most of the talking, the objections raised by Vincent are genuine ones, pace Elton. More the author, like the 217 A Dialogue of Comfort / 218 Providence of Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy (one of More's models), foresees without predetermining the course of the argument. Anthony cannot proceed until he has effectively answered those objections. Elton is deceived: the Dialogue of Comfort is not a controversial work in the same vein as the Dialogue Concerning Heresies. The congenial tone of the dialogue, however, does not belie the fact that the anguish felt by Vincent at the prospect of the Turkish invasion is very real, and that Anthony is hard pressed to provide Vincent with the necessary good counsels that will offer Vincent comfort in his tribulation. Part of the problem in dealing with the Dialogue of Comfort is the apparently chaotic and formless nature of More's dialogues. Manley himself admits that: The dialogue form modifies the argument of the book and keeps it from being presented as logically and straightforwardly as it might have been in a regular treatise or discourse. The argument disappears at times into the deliberate garrulity of the dialogue. At other times it is carried forward by the conversation itself in a kind of crabwise progress through objection. (CW 12, lxxxviii) Manley grants too much, however, to More's critics. Though some like Elton may be taken in by Anthony's garrulity, it would be textually and rhetorically naive to confuse the talkativeness of the old man in the dialogue with the mind of the author. Anthony is clearly meant in some ways to be an embodiment of the 'holy fool' or 'wise fool,' like Moria in The Praise of Folly and Hythloday in Utopia. 5 Louis Martz, Manley's co-editor, comes closest (in discussing More's 'art of improvisation') to the mark: "The whole movement... is characteristic of More's mode of apparently extemporaneous chattering which leads the audience by irony and indirection into the very heart of the issue" (CW 12, lxiii). Elsewhere, Martz argues that More's use of indirection and exploratory digression in his late works is very Augustinian. 6 Without in any way minimizing Martz's fundamental insight, I wish to point out that such a method of improvisational and exploratory digression is not incompatible with having a coherent outline of the whole work already planned in one's mind, before ever putting pen to paper. Underneath the apparently chaotic surface, the work is actually very carefully organised. There are no loose ends, at least none that I can A Dialogue of Comfort / 219 find—points are often made, as in real conversations, that are not pursued, but it is always clearly indicated that they are being dropped. In the best Horatian manner, More is never more artful in the Dialogue of Comfort than when he appears most artless. 6.2. TEXTUAL HISTORY Thomas More wrote A Dialogue of Comfort in Tribulation in 1534/35, while he was in the Tower of London awaiting execution. The final period of More's life lasted from his imprisonment in the Tower of London in April 17, 1534 until his execution on July 6, 1535. The works that More produced in this period are collectively known as "The Tower Works," and are published in Volumes 12 to 14 of the Yale Edition. Besides the Dialogue of Comfort, during that short time More managed to compose the De Tristitia, a profound and moving meditation, written in Latin, on Christ's Agony in the Garden, of which the autograph manuscript survives, ? the English Treatise on the Passion (partly written before More's imprisonment), 8 a short meditation on the Eucharist, A Treatise to Receive the Blessed Body, some prayers and meditations, 9 and More's "Prison Letters." 10 This was an extraordinary achievement for a man in More's circumstances, and at least in the case of the Dialogue of Comfort, he managed to produce an acknowledged literary and spiritual masterpiece, perhaps the finest of his English works. After More's death the Dialogue of Comfort circulated in manuscript form. The most important surviving manuscripts are the Corpus Christi Manuscript, Bodleian Library, Ms. C.C.C. D.37; and British Library, Ms. Royal 17 D.XIV. There are at least two other sixteenth-century manuscripts in existence, which were overlooked by the editors of the recent Yale Edition: British Library, Harley 1634; and Glasgow University Library, Hunter V.2.19. A fifth manuscript was also recently acquired by Yale University Library. " The Dialogue of Comfort was first published in 1553 by Richard Tottel during the reign of Queen Mary. Four years later in 1557, it was included by William Rastell in his folio edition of More's English Works, and it was published again in Antwerp in 1573 by the English Recusant printer John Fowler. Fowler based his edition on the 1553 and 1557 editions, A Dialogue of Comfort / 220 together with some emendations of his own (cf. CW 12, xxii). The first modern edition (based on the 1553 edition) was published by J. Warrington in the Everyman series, together with the Utopia, in 1910. 12 It was reissued with modernised spelling in 1951. 13 It was edited again in a slightly abridged and modernised form (omitting about twenty percent of the text) by Leland Miles in 1963. 14 In 1976, Louis L. Martz and Frank Manley published the first genuinely critical edition of the Dialogue of Comfort as Volume 12 of the Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. The Yale edition was based on the Corpus Christi Manuscript, together with variant readings from British Library, Royal 17 D.XIV, and the 1553, 1557 and 1573 editions. Martz and Manley did not make use of the Harley or Glasgow University manuscripts; however, the variants in these manuscripts are not substantive enough to necessitate re-editing the text. 16 It is necessary to describe the Corpus Christi manuscript briefly because of an important editorial decision made by the Yale editors. The Yale edition is the first modern edition to take seriously into account the manuscript evidence, all previous editions being based on the early printed editions. The Yale editors distinguish up to five different hands (CW 12, xxii-xxviii), of which the most important are the basic scribal hand A, described as "a secretarial hand of the first half of the sixteenth century" (CW 12, xix), and hand B, the chief correcting hand, dating from the middle of the sixteenth century, tentatively identified by the Yale editors as that of William Rastell (CW 12, xlvi-xlix). In an extensive discussion of the two hands (CW 12, xxviii-xliii), the Yale editors argue for the priority of the A text over all other versions (including British Library, MS. Royal 17 D.XIV, and the early printed editions). This conclusion is not significantly altered by the new manuscript finds (see Figure 6.1 for Revised Stemma). 16 The manuscript was extensively revised by hand B (Rastell), probably with an aim to publication. 17 Many of the corrections made by B are clearly editorial in nature (cf. CW 12, xxxvi); however, it became obvious to the Yale editors from the many parallels with the other surviving textual witnesses that B also had another manuscript available to him, possibly even More's 15531557-^ B [Y] [X] C C 1573 Figure 6.1: Revised Textual Stemma I Table of Sigla for Yale Edition O Holograph of More's Dialogue of Comfort. X, Y^Hypothetical intermediate manuscripts. CC^Corpus Christi Manuscript, Bodleian Library, Ms. C.C.C. D.37. A^Hand A in the Corpus Christi Manuscript. B Hand B in the Corpus Christi Manuscript. L British Library, Ms. Royal 17 D.XIV. H British Library, Harley 1634 [not used]. Glasgow University Library, Hunter V.2.19 [not used]. 1553^Tottel's edition of A Dialogue of Comfort, London, 1553. 1557^Rastell's edition of A Dialogue of Comfort contained in the Folio edition of More's English Workes, London, 1557. 1573^John Fowler's edition of A Dialogue of Comfort, Antwerp, 1573. 221 A Dialogue of Comfort / 222 holograph. 18 The Yale editors were then faced with the difficult task of reconciling the claims of the two hands. They chose to be as conservative as possible in following the A text. 19 However, they also included the words and phrases added by B in the text, printed within half-brackets (cf. CW 12, clxv). (I have used triangular brackets in my quotations instead.) 6.3. GENRE, AUDIENCE, BACKGROUND, AND STRUCTURE The form of the work is that of a literary dialogue between two speakers, though, unlike Utopia and A Dialogue Concerning Heresies, there are no prefatory letters and no real introductory material either. The two speakers are an uncle named Anthony and a nephew named Vincent. 20 The Dialogue of Comfort is divided into three books. In the dialogue of Book I, Vincent visits his uncle to ask him to describe the nature of comfort in tribulation, the central theme of the work. The dialogues in Books II and III take place about a month later, supposedly on a single day, with only a break for dinner between Books II and III. In the Dialogue of Comfort More presents us with the vision of a society on the verge of collapse. The fictional setting of the dialogue is in Hungary in the years 1527-1528, about seven to eight years before the actual time of writing, after the disastrous defeat of the Hungarian army by the Turks in 1526 at the Battle of Mohacs, and before the final Turkish invasion of Hungary by Suleiman the Magnificent in 1529, which led to a permanent Turkish occupation (cf. CW 12, cxx-cxxxv). The fictional setting of the Dialogue of Comfort proves to be integral to the structure of the work. It would be too easy to read the work as a mere 'allegory' in the modern sense of the word. While undoubtedly there are clear parallels between Henry VIII and the 'Grand Turk', and between the fate of Hungary at the hands of the Turks and that of the Roman Catholic Church in England at the hands of Henry VIII, a careful reading of the work should suggest, as Manley points out, that the dialogue cannot be read on one level only. 21 The Dialogue of Comfort works on several levels: sometimes the 'Grand Turk' is the literal historical figure of Suleiman the Magnificent, at other times he may represent a A Dialogue of Comfort / 223 veiled reference to Henry VIII, and at other times to the Devil himself. 22 In the same way without being a formal allegory, the 'Turkish invasion' also can either represent the literal historical event, or the chaos caused by the English Reformation and the ensuing persecution of English Catholics, 23 or, on a larger, more universal scale, all the forces of chaos, evil and destruction that threaten the Christian here in this life. 24 There is clearly a very personal dimension to the work. One has a strong sense in reading through the Dialogue of Comfort of the author struggling to come to a final acceptance of his own death. His serenity at the time of his execution is well-known. What is not so well-known is how much it cost him personally to come to that point. Part of More's genius was his ability to universalize his own situation and see it sub specie aeternitatis. By doing so he was able to objectify his own position and stand apart from it, and become detached without giving in to resignation, though, in the course . of the Dialogue of Comfort, More makes it clear that he was no stoic and that martyrdom did not come easily to him. At the same time it is obvious that the Dialogue of Comfort was also meant to be a "Handbook for Christian Martyrs." Though the nominal setting of the Dialogue of Comfort was Hungary, it is clear that More was partly writing to strengthen and comfort his own family and those of his friends who were to remain faithful to the old religion and who in the process would likely suffer imprisonment and torture, exile or death at Henry VIII's hands. More did not offer any false comfort to them by trying to deny the horrors they might face, but rather tried to give them courage and strength to face these horrors. However, the Dialogue of Comfort was clearly not concerned solely with the English situation either. More seems also to have been genuinely, deeply concerned about the tragic fall of Hungary, and the terrible vulnerability of a theologically divided Christendom to the incursions of the Turks. 25 "The Grand Turk" sometimes is clearly identified with the literal Ottoman Emperor, sometimes Henry VIII, and at other times with the Devil: in fact, the Grand Turk is a symbol of all the forces of chaos and destruction at work in the world, including tyrannical kings and rulers. 26 In the end, the Dialogue of Comfort deals not just A Dialogue of Comfort / 224 with contemporary religious conflicts, but more universally with the problem of suffering and of how the good or devout man should face this suffering. The Dialogue of Comfort like many of More's other major works also represents a hybrid of several different literary genres. On the one hand it draws heavily on the classical consolatio tradition, of which the most famous example is Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy. 27 However, the work also has strong connections with the specifically Christian tradition of comfort that found expression in the many popular "books of comfort" that were produced in the later Middle Ages. 28 Unlike in the classical consolatio, including Boethius, reason is clearly subordinated to faith in More's Dialogue of Comfort which can perhaps be best described as a consolation of theology or of the theological virtues, rather than of philosophy (cf. CW 12, cxix). More seems to be quite unique in combining the classical tradition of consolatio with that of the Christian tradition of comfort. This is part of what gives the work its tremendous resonance. 29 Frank Manley, in the introduction to the Yale Edition, on "The Argument of the Book" (CW 12, lxxxvi—cxvii), analyses the threefold division of the Dialogue of Comfort into three books in terms of the three Theological Virtues: Faith, Hope, and Charity. However, Manley's analysis does not go far enough. The Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation is a treatment not only of the theological virtues, but also of their polar psychological and spiritual opposites: doubt, fear, tribulation, despair, suicide, pride, pusillanimity (timidity), hate, persecution, and martyrdom. The work is an exploration of all the ways in which the tribulations of this life, culminating in persecution for the faith and Christian martyrdom, can undermine the workings of divine grace, and of the remedies provided by the theological virtues of Faith, Hope, and Charity. Thus, paradoxically, More's "Book of Comfort" is in places a very dark book—it has as much to do with doubt and fear as with faith; as much with pride and despair and excessive scrupulosity as with hope; and as much with hatred, persecution and martyrdom as with love or charity. Alongside the tripartite structure, there is another parallel structure consisting of a A Dialogue of Comfort / 225 Book I Preface^ Introduction to Book I 3/1-9/16 ^ Vincent comes to seek comfort from his uncle Anthony Comfort in Tribulation (I:14:12) Chapters 1-2 9/17-14/4 Chapters 3-5 14/5-19/7 Chapter 6 19/8-23/8 Chapters 7-10 23/10-35/6 Chapter 16 48/1-56/12 Chapters 5-9 91/1-102/3 On the insufficiency of the comforts of ancient moral philosophy, and on the necessity of having the foundation of faith The first source of comfort in tribulation is the desire to be comforted by God The desire to have tribulation taken away is not always sufficient, since God sometimes wills for us to suffer tribulation Anthony then claims that every tribulation 1. either comes to us through our own fault 2. or is sent by God as punishment for past sins 3. or else is sent to increase our patience and our merit Tribulation leads not only to the purging of our sins, but also to the increase of our heavenly reward of Tribulation (I:13-1:20) Anthony claims that those who never experience tribulation in this life never experience comfort either. Vincent objects 1. the Church prays for the health of princes and prelates 2. if health and prosperity are wrong why take medicine 3Solomon, Job, and Abraham were all prosperous 4. many rich men are good and many poor people are evil Anthony answers Vincent's objections: worldly pleasure is not always unpleasant to God, nor tribulation always wholesome, but tribulation can take many forms—troubles that grieve the mind as well as bodily pains. Even the prosperous can experience many tribulations God often sends tribulation to make us pray to him for help The prayers of those suffering tribulation are far more pleasing to God than the ones of those who are prosperous. Tribulation is a gracious gift from God Introduction of Book II Vincent returns again after a month It is sometimes permissible to seek worldly comfort in tribulation, for example telling 'merry tales' (many occur in Comfort B) There are three kinds of tribulation: 1. those a man willingly takes upon himself (e.g. penance) 2. those he willingly suffers (to be the subject of Comfort B) 3. those he is unable to avoid (already dealt with in Book I) After dealing briefly with the first kind of tribulation (penance), Anthony subdivides the second kind into two: 1. temptation in which the devil tries to trap us (Book II) 2. persecution in which the devil fights us openly (Book III) Chapters 11-12 35/7-40/13 On the Necessity Chapters 13-15 40/14-47/27 Chapters 17-18 56/13-63/23 Chapters 19-20 64/1-77/26 Book II Preface 78/1-82/4 Chapters 1-2 78/1-82/4 Chapters 3-4 86/15-90/26 Figure 6.2. Comfort A: The Book of Comfort A Dialogue of Comfort / 226 Book II Chapters 10-11 102/4-106/26 1. Chapters 12-16 107/1-157/2 2. Chapter 16 157/2-166/7 3. Chapter 17 166/8-187/29 Book III Preface and Chapter 1 188/1-199/24 4. Chapters 2-4 200/1-205/26 Chapters 5-16 206/1-244/21 Chapters 17-22 244/22-288/17 Chapters 23-27 288/18-320/28 Introduction of Psalm 90, leading up to verses 5-6 (ch.11): ... non timebis a timore nocturno / a sagitta volante in die, a negocio perambulante in tenebris, ab incursu & demonio meridiano:^thow shalt not be aferd of the nightes feare, nor of the arrow fleyng in the day, nor of the bysynes walkyng about in the darknesses / nor of the incursion or invacion of the devill in the mydde day (105/18-23). The first temptation: "The night's fear" —Of pusillanimity (ch. 13-14) [Mother Maud's Tale (114/14-120/6)] — Of suicide (ch. 15-16) [Vincent and Anthony imagine how they would counsel the "spiritual man" of Cassian's Collations who contemplated suicide (129/2-157/2)] The second temptation: "The arrow flying in the day" —Of the temptations of pride and prosperity The third temptation: "The business walking in the darkness" —Of the temptation to evil business or frantic activity in the pursuit of worldly riches, and on the proper use of wealth [They break for dinner (186/26-187/28)] Introduction to Book III —News of impending Turkish invasion of Hungary The fourth temptation: "The incursion of the noonday devil" — The distinguishing mark of this temptation is persecution for the faith —This persecution brings two kinds of tribulations: 1. Those that affect the body 2. Those that affect the soul (dismissed immediately) — There are two kinds of harm the body can take: 1. The loss of outward things (3:5-3:16) 2. Harm to the body itself (3:17-3:27) 1. The loss of outward things —loss of worldly possessions, offices, positions of authority, and lands [Of the flattery of the great prelate in Germany (Wolsey?) (212/22-218/4)] [Vincent play-acts the role of a great lord who feared to lose his possessions (229/10-237/28)] 2a. Harm to the body itself —Of bodily pain, hard labour, loss of liberty and imprisonment, and death [On the topos of "The Prison of This Earth" (255/9-270/12)] 2b. Harm to the body itself (Continued) — On painful and shameful death, persecution and martyrdom Figure 6.3. Comfort B: The Meditation on Psalm 90(91):5-6. A Dialogue of Comfort / 227 more or less traditional "book" of comfort and consolation, comprising all of Book I and the first twenty odd pages of Book II, which I will call Comfort A (see Figure 6.2 for a schematic analysis of the structure of Comfort A), 3° followed by an extended meditation on Psalm 90 (91), especially verses five and six, that runs through the second two-thirds of the work from page 102 onwards to the end of Book III, which I will call Comfort B. 31 After a brief discussion of Psalm 90(91): 1-4 in Chapter 10, on page 105 in Book II, Chapter 11, Anthony goes on to quote verses 5 and 6 of the same Psalm: Scuto circumdabit to veritas eius 1 non timebis a timore nocturno r a sagitta volante in die, a negocio perambulante in tenebris, ab incursu & demonio meridiano: The trouth of god shall compasse the about with a pavice [shield], thow shalt not be aferd of the nightes feare, nor of the arrow fleyng in the day, nor of the bysynes walkyng about in the darknesses / nor of the incursion or invacion of the devill in the mydde day. (CW 12, 105/17-23). As Louis Martz points out, "the great central text from Psalm 90... runs like a refrain through the rest of Book II and on throughout Book III, forming the basis for a sustained set of considerations on the comfort to be found in "the truth of God". 32 Martz goes on to show how the four temptations of Psalm 90: 5-6 provide an architectural framework for the rest of the Dialogue of Comfort. 33 My own "model" of the structure of Comfort B (see Figure 6.3) is essentially a refinement of that provided by Martz and the somewhat complementary analysis of Martz's co-editor Frank Manley (cf. CW 12, xcv-cxvii), though I have not agreed in every detail with their divisions of the text. As Martz and Manley point out (cf. CW 12, lxxiv-v, , ci-civ) the first three temptations of Psalm 90 provide the framework for much of Book II: the first temptation, "the night's fear," the temptation of fear and despair, is dealt with in Chapters 12-16 (107-57), and the second and third temptations, "the arrow flying in the day" and "the business walking in the darkness", the temptations of pride and prosperity, and of the frantic pursuit of worldly goods and wealth respectively, in Chapters 16-17 (157-87), while the fourth temptation, "the noonday devil," persecution for the faith A Dialogue of Comfort / 228 and the threat of martyrdom, takes up all of Book III. 6.4. THE FUNCTION OF PSALM 90 Before turning to an analysis of the text of the Dialogue of Comfort, it is necessary briefly to discuss the main exegetical traditions surrounding Psalm 90 (91): 5-6, since this will be crucial for correctly understanding the structure of Comfort B. 34 There are two main traditions, one, found mainly among the Desert Fathers, which interprets the "noonday devil" of Psalm 90: 6 as the spirit of acedia or "accidie", and the second, originating with St. Augustine and St. Jerome, which interprets the daemon meridianum as the persecution of tyrants or the seductions of heretics. The clearest statement of the first view is in Cassian's Institutes, Book 10, Chap. 1: 35 Our sixth combat is with what the Greeks call acedia, which we may term weariness [taedium] or distress of heart [anxietatem cordis]. This is akin to dejection [tristitia], 36 and is especially trying to solitaries, and a dangerous and frequent foe to dwellers in the desert; and especially disturbing to a monk about the sixth hour [i.e. noon], like some fever which seizes him at stated times, bringing the burning heat of its attack on the sick man at usual and regular hours. Lastly, there are some of the elders who declare that this is the "midday demon" spoken of in the ninetieth Psalm. 37 Cassian goes on to describe the effects of "accidie" in the next chapter: the monk afflicted by accidie becomes disgusted with his cell, and feels disdain and contempt for his monastic brothers. He becomes lazy and sluggish, and cannot bear to stay in his cell and read, but "often groans because he can do no good while he stays there, and complains and sighs because he can bear no spiritual fruit." 38 He imagines that life in other monasteries is better, and that he will never be well if he stays in that place, unless he leaves his cell: Then the fifth or sixth hour [i.e. noon] brings him such bodily weariness and longing for food that he seems to himself worn out and wearied as if with a long journey, or some very heavy work,... Then besides this he looks about anxiously this way and that,... and often goes in and out of his cell, and frequently gazes up at the sun, as if it was too slow in setting, and so A Dialogue of Comfort / 229 a kind of unreasonable confusion of mind takes possession of him like some foul darkness, and makes him idle and useless for every spiritual work.... 39 The rest of Book 10 of the Institutes goes on to provide a detailed analysis of "The Spirit of Accidie" and its remedies. 40 Accidie "in its most complicated and most deadly form, a mixture of boredom, sorrow and despair" 41 clearly provides the inspiration, if not framework, for much of the discussion of the "First Temptation" in Book II, culminating in the "Counselling of the Spiritual Man of Cassian's Collations" (in Book II: 16). This tradition of interpretation of Psalm 90 (91): 5-6, put forward by Cassian and other Desert Fathers, was in turn later taken up and modified and developed further by St. Bernard and others. St. Bernard commented on Psalm 90 (91) in a series of Lenten sermons, the In Psalmum XC, and in Sermon 33 of the Sermons on the Song of Songs. 42 While St. Bernard does at one point describe the attacks of the noonday devil in terms strikingly reminiscent of Cassian's description in the Institutes, 43 he also, unlike Cassian, stresses the element of fear or pusillanimity: Our common experience tells us that it is fear which disturbs us at the beginning of our conversion, fear of that dismaying picture we form for ourselves of the strict life and unwanted austerities we are about to embrace. This is called a nocturnal fear.... Beginners on the way to God, therefore, must in particular watch and pray against this first temptation, or they will be suddenly overcome by pusillanimity of spirit as by a storm, and unfortunately recoil from the good work they have begun. 44 St. Bernard's interpretation of the "night's fear" provided the basis for More's treatment of Pusillanimity in Book II, Chapters 13-14, while Cassian's discussion of "accidie" provided the basis for More's treatment of spiritual despair, and of the desire to commit suicide, in Book II, Chapters 15-16. More's interpretation of the second and third temptations of Psalm 90 (91), in terms of the temptations of the "active life," namely temptations of pride and prosperity, and of the frantic desire to acquire wealth and material possessions, seems also to be derived rather A Dialogue of Comfort / 230 freely from St. Bernard and Nicholas of Lyra. 45 St. Bernard interprets the second temptation, "the arrow that flies by day", as vainglory: 46 This arrow is none other than vain glory, which is why it does not attack the wavering [pusillanimes] and the careless. It is those who appear more fervent who must look out for themselves; they must be afraid on this score, and be extremely cautious never to leave the invincible shield of truth [cf. 90:4]... For, unless I am mistaken, a man cannot easily be misled by someone who praises him during his lifetime, and thus become top-lofty, if he carefully examines himself within in the light of truth, Surely if he thinks about his own condition, he will say to himself, 'How can you, who are but dust and ashes, be proud?' Surely, if he considers his own corruption, he must necessarily admit that there is no good in him. 47 St. Bernard goes on to interpret the third temptation as hypocrisy and ambition: "the pestilence that stalks about in the darkness,... is hypocrisy. For this has its source in ambition, its dwelling in darkness." 48 In this temptation the tempter says: "He has spurned vain glory because it is vain. Maybe he will conceive a fondness for more solid food: honors, perhaps, or maybe riches." 49 St. Bernard goes on to show how because of this temptation "a foul corruption permeates the whole body of the Church": 59 For they even pursue their nefarious quest and the business of darkness in running after positions of ecclesiastical dignity, and in this they are seeking not the salvation of souls, but the extravagance of riches.... Today people scrap shamelessly to get archbishoprics and archdeaconries in order to dissipate church revenues in wanton waste and vain pursuits. 51 Those who, led on by this temptation, seek to become prelates in the Church, attain to these positions not "by way of merit, but through this agency that works in the darkness." 52 In Book II, Chapters 16-17 (CW 12, 157-87), More by and large follows St. Bernard, except that as a pious layman, he expands St. Bernard's description of the "Third Temptation" to include also the temptations of public office. For his treatment of the "Fourth Temptation," More drew on the second tradition of the interpretation of Psalm 90 (91): 5-6, mentioned previously. The clearest statement of this second tradition is to be found in Cassiodorus's Expositio Psalmorum:53 A Dialogue of Comfort / 231 The terror of the night, then, is the cloudy persuasion of heretics. The arrow that flieth by day is open persecution by tyrants. The business in the dark is the debased study by which the mental eye of right believers is blinded. The noonday devil is the massive danger ignited by the heat of persecution, in which destruction is often feared and human weakness overcome.... 54 Cassiodorus was in turn conflating two earlier traditions of exegesis, going back to Augustine 55 and Jerome 56 respectively. For St. Jerome the noon-day devil is the teaching of heretics, philosophers, and Jews. The two sermons that St. Jerome preached on Psalm 90 (91) (Homilies 20 and 68) closely parallel one another. In the first temptation (Homily 20) the devil lurks in the darkness and shoots at the guileless and the innocent who are his secret target. "You shall not fear the terror of the night" means that "even though you are in the terror of the dark night, nevertheless, you will not be afraid because you are armed with the shield of truth." 57 The second, third and fourth temptations are interpreted (Homily 68): Nor the arrow that flies by day?... is the teaching of the heretics that flies hither and thither throughout the day—throughout all God's law—in their anxious search to gather testimony against us that they may rob us of all truth by their interpretation. Not the pestilence that roams in the darkness. He did not say stands, but roams, for the heretics are never constant in their convictions, but are forever changing their opinions, shifting back and forth. Nor the devastating plague at noon.... No less than the saints, who have a midday light where they pasture their flocks and give them rest, the devil, transformed into an angel of light, has his servants disguised as false ministers of justice.... Some inexperienced and credulous men think that there is a real midday demon that has more power to attack men at that time; we, however, shall interpret the noonday devils as the heresiarchs who, while simulating angels of light, preach dogmas of darkness. 58 St. Jerome's interpretation of Psalm 90 (91) provides evidence for reading the attempts of the "Great Turk" in Book III of the Dialogue of Comfort to force Christians to renounce their faith as an allegory of the English Reformation under Henry VIII. However, St. Jerome's interpretation is implicit rather than explicit in Book III of the Dialogue of Comfort. The main source for More's exegesis of the "Fourth Temptation" of Psalm 90 (91): 5-6 in Book A Dialogue of Comfort / 232 III is to be found in St. Augustine's Expositions on the Book of Psalms: "The demon that is in the noon-day, represents the heat of furious persecution." 59 St. Augustine then recalls the earlier persecution of Christians. At first the emperors and kings of the world thought they could destroy the name of Christ by simple execution; the emperor's decree: "'Whoever professes himself a Christian, let him be beheaded;' was as the arrow that flieth by day. The devil that is in the noonday was not yet abroad, burning with a terrible persecution, and afflicting with great heat even the strong." 60 However, when the emperor saw so many hastening to martyrdom, and the number of fresh converts increasing in proportion to the martyrs: The sun then began to blaze, and to glow with a terrible heat. Their first edict had been, Whoever shall confess himself a Christian, let him be smitten. Their second edict was, Whoever shall have confessed himself a Christian, let him be tortured, and tortured even until he deny himself a Christian.... Many therefore who denied not [under the first edict], failed amid the tortures; for they were tortured until they denied. But to those who persevered in professing Christ, what could the sword do, by killing the body at one stroke, and sending the soul to God? This was the result of protracted tortures also: yet who could be found able to resist such cruel and continued torments? Many failed: those, I believe, who presumed upon themselves, who dwelt not under the defence of the Most High, and under the shadow of the God of Heaven [cf. 90:1]; who said not to the Lord, "Thou art my lifter up:" [v.2] who trusted not beneath the shadow of his wings [v.4], but reposed much confidence in their own strength. They are thrown down by God, to show them that it is He that protects them, He overrules their temptations, He allows so much only to befall them, as each person can sustain. b1 St. Augustine's interpretation of the noonday devil as "symbolizing the stormiest period of persecution experienced by the early Church," 62 clearly provides the foundation of Book III of More's Dialogue of Comfort. However, More reverses the psychological movement of St. Augustine's sermon: More's analysis of the daemon meridianum in Book III begins with the loss of outward goods, and persecution for the faith, and moves progressively to its inner psychological and spiritual culmination at the end of Book III in the joys of Christian martyrdom. A detailed account of the structure of Book III, the subdivisions of the "Fourth A Dialogue of Comfort / 23.3 Temptation" (see Figure 6.3), is reserved for the appropriate sections of the "Analysis of the Text" which follows. 6.5. ANALYSIS OF THE TEXT 6.5.1. Introduction to Book I (I:Preface) The opening of the dialogue, like so many of More's other works, is very carefully structured. Unlike several earlier works, there are no prefatory letters, only the brief title. The two speakers are not introduced in any formal way, except by the alternation of the names in the text. The opening is almost casual, certainly muted and low-key. There is no real introduction. We hear Vincent, the nephew, speaking immediately: Who wold haue went / 0 my good vnckle / afore a few yeres passed, that such as in this countrey wold visit their frendes lying in desease & siknes, shuld come (as I do now) to seke & fetch comfort of them / or in gevyng comfort to them, vse the wey that I may well vse to you / For albeit that the prestes and freres be wont to call vppon sik men to remember deth / yet we worldly frendes for feare of discomfortyng them, haue euer had a gise ir. hungarye / to lyft vp their hartes and put them in hope of lyfe / But now my good vnckle the world is here waxen such / & so gret perilles appere here to fall at hand that me thynketh the gretest comfort that a man can haue, ys when he may see that he shall sone be gone. And we that are lykely long to lyve here in wrechidnes, haue nede of some comfortable councell agaynst trybulacion / to be gevyn vs by such as you be good vnckle, that haue so long lyvid vertuously, & are so lernyd in the law of god, as very few be better in this countrey here.... (CW 12, 3/9-23) Anthony replies with the conventional Christian answer that Vincent must look for comfort from God and not from him. The young man is not so easily put off by his uncle, and comments that Anthony's words "make me now fele & perceve, what a mysse of much comfort we shall haue, when ye be gone" (5/17-18). Anthony for his part still seems to be reluctant to reply to Vincent's request for comfort, and suggests that God himself will give him comfort. This time Vincent begs his uncle more urgently for words of good counsel and comfort: And sith that I now se the lyklyhod, that when ye be gone, we shalbe sore A Dialogue of Comfort / 234 destytute of any such other lyke / Therfor thynketh me / that god of dewtie byndeth me to sew <to> you now good vnckle, in this short tyme that we haue you, that yt may like you agaynst these grete stormes of tribulacions / with which both I & all myne are sore beten alredy / And now vppon the comyng of this cruell Turke, fere to fall in ferre mo / I may lern of you such plentie of good councell & comfort, that I may with the same layd vp in remembrauns, gouerne and staye the ship of ower kyndred, & kepe yt a flote from perill of spirituall drounnyng. (CW 12, 6/5- 14) Vincent next describes in gruesome detail the cruelties and atrocities committed by the Turks, during the invasion of Hungary in 1526. After mentioning some of the past victories of the Turks, Anthony mentions that there is something worse even than the evils committed by the Turks, namely the pains of Hell. However, Anthony is so moved by Vincent's words, that he finally agrees to Vincent's request. 6.5.2. Comfort in Tribulation (I:14:12) Anthony first defines tribulation as "some kynd of grefe eyther payne of the body or hevynes of <the> mynd" (10/6-7). He then briefly alludes to the classical tradition of consolation derived from ancient moral philosophy, only to point out its inadequacy without faith. Faith is the necessary foundation without which comfort is impossible. Vincent then asks Anthony to proceed further in describing the nature of spiritual comfort. Anthony then defines the first kind of comfort as the desire and longing to be comforted by God. God both can and will give man comfort. Vincent interjects: But <by> this I se wel / that woo may they be, which in tribulacion lak that mynd, & that desierith not to be comfortid by god / but are eyther of slouth or impacyence discumfortles / or of foly seke for their cheef ease & cumfort eny where elles. (CW 12, 17/8-11) Anthony replies that the very tribulation itself that God sends serves ordinarily as a means for man's amendment. Vincent thinks his uncle's counsel is very good, but asks if the desire to have the tribulation taken away is not also a desire for God's comfort. Anthony responds that "A A Dialogue of Comfort / 235 man may many tymes well & without synne, desier of god the tribulacion to be taken from hym / but neyther may we desier <that> in euery case" (19/26-28). Anthony next describes various kinds of tribulations: trybulacions are / ye wot well / of many sundrye kyndes / some by losse of goodes or possessions, & some by the siknes of oure selfe / & some by the losse of frendes / or by some other payne put vnto our bodies / some by the drede of the losyng of those thynges that we fayne wold save / vnder which feare fall all the same thynges that we haue spoken before.... (CW 12, 19/29-20/5) We may pray for relief from hunger, sickness and bodily hurt, but we may not pray for the taking away of every kind of tribulation. When it comes time for a man to die and depart to God, he should show himself content to do so. If it is God's will for us to suffer, then we must pray that God will send us the spiritual comfort to bear it gladly, or the strength to suffer it patiently. Anthony then claims that: euery tribulacion which any tyme falleth vnto vs / ys eyther sent to be medicinable yf men will so take yt / or may become medicynable yf men will so make it / or is better than medicynable but yf we will forsake yt. (CW 12, 23/22-25) Vincent, however, is a bit puzzled Anthony now tries to clarify his earlier position by stating that every tribulation comes either, first, because of our own sinful deeds, or else, secondly, is sent by God to man as a punishment for past sins or to preserve us from falling into sin, or, thirdly, to prove our patience or increase our merit. Vincent finds Anthony's arguments somewhat dark and obscure, and asks for further clarification. In the first case, Anthony explains, many make a virtue of necessity and turn to God in their tribulations. In the second, the tribulation is medicinable for our past sins, if accepted in the right spirit, or as a preservative against sins to come. Vincent asks about the third kind of tribulation and raises the following objection: yet can I not see by what reson a man may in this world, where the A Dialogue of Comfort / 236 tribulacion is suffrid, take any more comfort therin, then in any of the tother twayne that are sent a man for his syn / sith he can not <here> know, whether yt be sent hym for synnes before commyttid or sinne that els shuld fall, or for increase of merite & reward after to come.... (CW 12, 30/23-28) Anthony acknowledges Vincent's objection, but points out that some men can justly claim, as Job did, that they did not deserve the sufferings they endured. Their sufferings were clearly meant to test their patience. Anthony includes in the third group any man who falls into tribulation for the sake of justice, or in defence of religion. Their sufferings are better than medicinable since they lead to salvation. 6.5.3. On the Necessity of Tribulation (1:13-1:20) Anthony then suggests paradoxically the need for tribulation, if we are to find comfort: Cosyn it were to long worke to peruse euery comfort that a man may well take in tribulacion / for as many comfortes ye wot well may a man take therof, as there be good comodities therin / and that be there <surely> so many, that it woldbe very long to reherse & treat of them / But me semeth we can not lightly better perceve what profit & comoditie & therby what comfort they may take of it that haue yt, than yf we well consider what harm the lak ys, & therby what discumfort the lak therof shuld be to them that neuer haue yt.... (CW 12, 40/22-41/3) Anthony declares that man cannot have continual prosperity both in this world and in the next. Vincent objects that many preachers promise their hearers that they can experience continual happiness in this world and the next. Anthony replies that they do it either for gain or out of fear. Vincent further objects, first, that the Church in its various collects and other liturgical prayers prays for princes and prelates that God grant them perpetual health and prosperity; secondly, that if prosperity is indeed so perilous, we should not then pray for continual health and prosperity; thirdly, some of the Old Testament patriarchs, such as Solomon, Job, and Abraham enjoyed prosperity; fourthly, that there are many good men who are rich and many of the poor who are as evil as they are wretched. Anthony then A Dialogue of Comfort / 237 clarifies his earlier statement: Eyther I said not Cosyn, orels ment I not to say, that for an vndoutid rule / worldly pleasure were alwey displesaunt to god / or tribulacion euermore holsome to euery man. For well wote I that our lord giveth in this world, vnto euery sort of folke eyther sort of fortune. (CW 12, 48/4-8) God gives both good fortune and sorrow. There are some who in prosperity cannot creep forward to God, but who run quickly to him in tribulation. Anthony defines tribulation as everything which troubles or grieves a man, either in body or in mind. Significantly, he does not minimize the pain of mental anguish: And surely Cosyn the prik that very sore priketh the mynd / as far almost passeth in payne the grefe that payneth the body / as doth a thorn that stikketh in the hart, passe and excede in payne the thorn that is thrust in the hele. (CW 12, 50/21-24) He argues that, if one includes mental anguish, then there are more kinds of tribulation than had been previously thought, and that "sith euery kynd of tribulacion is an interupcion of welth / prosperitie which is but of welth another name, may be discontynued by mo wayes than you wold before haue went" (51/1-3). The fourth objection is dismissed out of hand by Anthony. Anthony then replies to the first and third of the previously raised objections, that to pray for perpetual health is childish, and that it is equivalent to praying that one never experiences any temptations or trials in this life; and, that Solomon, Job, and Abraham all experienced tribulations of one kind or another, and therefore did not experience continual prosperity. Vincent insists, however, that the second objection still stands. Anthony replies that the same God who teaches us that tribulation is profitable also teaches us to pray for relief, and that God even sometimes sends tribulation to make us pray to him for help. Vincent accepts Anthony's arguments, but returns to the fourth previously raised objection, and reformulates it: that if both tribulation and prosperity are neither good nor A Dialogue of Comfort / 238 bad in themselves why put a greater value on tribulation than on prosperity? He points out that: a welthy man well at ease, may pray to god quietly & meryly with alacrite & grete quietnes of mynd / where as he that lieth gronyng in his grefe, can not endure to pray nor thynk almost vppon nothyng but vppon his payne. (CW 12, 65/3-6) Anthony replies to Vincent's objections by insisting that the two forms of prayer do not have equal merit: For in tribulacion which commeth you wot well in many sondry kyndes / any man that is not a dull best or a desperat wretch, callith vppon god, not houerly [lightly] but right hartely, & settith his hart <full> hole vppon his request / so sore he longeth for ease & helpe of his hevynes. (CW 12, 65/17-21) He gives the example of the martyrs who made no long prayers aloud: "but one ynch of such a prayour so prayd in that payne, was worth an hole ell & more evyn of their own prayours prayd at some other tyme" (66/6-8). The greatest of Christ's own prayers were those he made "in his grete agony & payne of his bitter passion" (67/2-3). Anthony then denies that the man in prosperity experiences true comfort, which derives from "the consolacion of good hope, that men take in their hart / of some good growing toward them" (68/13-14), and not the pleasures of the body. Anthony concludes that we should consider: tribulacion as a graciouse gyfte of god: A gyfte that he specially gaue his speciall frendes / the thyng that in scripture is highly commendid & praysid / A thyng wherof the contrary long contynued is perilous / A thyng which but yf god send <it,> men haue nede by penaunce to put vppon them selfe and seke it / A thyng that helpith to purge our synnes passid / A thyng that preserueth vs fro sinne that els wold come / A thyng that causeth vs set les by the world, A thyng that excitith vs to draw more toward god, A thyng that much mynysheth our paynes in purgatory, A thyng that mych encreseth our fynall reward in hevyn, The thyng by which our saviour entrid his own kyngdome / The thyng with which all his apostelles folowid hym thether, The thyng which our saviour exortith all men to / The thyng without which (he sayth) we be not his dicyples, The A Dialogue of Comfort / 239 thyng without which no man can get to hevyn. (CW 12, 75/11-24) After Anthony's comfortable peroration, Vincent apologizes for disturbing him with his importunate objections. They agree to meet again. Vincent then prays for Anthony that God send him comfort, and Anthony in turn replies by praying for "the same good for you, & for all our other frendes that haue nede of comfort" (77/19-20). With this note of consolation Book I closes, and Vincent goes off to relay Anthony's words of comfort to their relatives and friends. 6.5.4. The Beginning of Book II (II:Preface-II:9) Book II takes place about a month after the events of Book I. Vincent returns again to visit Anthony and half-jokingly apologizes for tiring him out at their first meeting: yet after my departyng from you, remembring how long we taried together, and that we were all that while in talkyng / And all the labour yours in talkyng so long together without interpawsyng betwene / & that of mater studiouse & displesaunt, all of desease & siknes & other payne & tribulation: I was in good fayth very sory & not a litell wroth with my selfe for myn <own> ouer sight, that I had so litell considerid your payne.... (CW 12, 78/10-16) Anthony good-humoredly accepts Vincent's apology: Nay nay good Cosyn / to talke myth / except some other payne let me / ys to me litell griefe / A fond old man is often so full of wordes as a woman. It is you wot well / as some poetes paynt vs / all the lust of an old foles lyfe / to sit well & warm with a cupp & a rostid crabb & dryvill & drinke & talke. (CW 12, 78/22-26) He goes on to reassure Vincent that their previous conversation was a great comfort to him, and to assert that the main focus of their previous discussion had been not tribulation itself, but the comfort that can be found in tribulation. Vincent tells Anthony that he has reported to their mutual friends the counsels that Anthony had imparted to him at their previous meeting. Vincent in turn asks Anthony to remember his own comfort, and to be ready to dismiss him when he (Anthony) wishes to leave. Anthony apologizes for speaking so much A Dialogue of Comfort / 240 at the last meeting: Forsoth Cosyn many wordes yf a man were very weke / spokyn (as you said right now) without interpawsyng, wold peradventure at length somwhat wery hym / And therfor wished I the last tyme after you were gone / when I felt my selfe (to sey the trowth) evyn a litell wery / that I had not so told you styli a long tale alone / but that we had more often enterchaungid wordes / & partid the talke betwene vs, with <ofter> enterparlyng vppon your part / in such maner as lernid men vse betwene the persons / whom they devise disputyng in their faynid diologes. (CW 12, 79/18-26) He promises that he will now let Vincent do more of the talking. Vincent, however, in turn apologizes for having spoken as much as he did, and for having asked so many awkward questions. Vincent starts off by defending the desire sometimes to seek worldly comfort in tribulation, and gives as an example the telling of 'merry tales,' which refresh the mind again after it has become tired from too much study. Anthony feels uncomfortable about the telling of merry tales, but recognises his own weakness for them: And of trouth Cosyn / as you know very well my selfe am of nature evyn halfe a giglot [wanton] & more / I wold I cold as easly mend my faute as I well know yt / But scant can I refrayne yt as old a fole as I am / how beit so parciall will I not be to my fawte as to prayse it. (CW 12, 83/3-7) As it turns out Books II and III of the Dialogue of Comfort are full of 'merry tales,' many of them animal fables, which do indeed serve the function of refreshing the reader without distracting him too seriously from the course of the argument. 63 Anthony returns to the main theme of the previous discussion by reiterating that we must find our chief comfort in God, but that honest mirth also has its place. He accepts the necessity of using merry tales as a concession to the weakness of human nature. However, he advises, that these kinds of recreation be as short and be used as seldom as possible. Most people, however, do not need any encouragement to tell idle tales. Our affection for Heaven is so cold that when the preacher speaks of the pains of Hell, his audience prick up their ears, but when he preaches of the joys of Heaven they all wander away. A Dialogue of Comfort / 241 He continues by subdividing tribulations into three different kinds: firstly, those a man willingly takes upon himself, such as acts of penance; secondly, those he willingly suffers; and, thirdly, those he is unable to avoid, such as sickness, imprisonment, loss of goods or friends, or unavoidable bodily harm. Anthony postpones the third kind until later—to be dealt with in Book III. He briefly dismisses the first kind. In this kind of tribulation a man needs no comfort since he has freely taken it upon himself, and will experience comfort in the very act of tribulation. The second kind of tribulation will become the matter of the rest of Book II. However, before turning to this second kind of tribulation, Vincent brings forward a couple of objections concerning the first kind. There are some who remain bold in their sins until the end of their lives, trusting to be saved by deathbed repentance. Anthony replies that they risk being rejected by God in the end. And their place in Heaven will be lower than if they did penance. Vincent raises the further objection that the Lutherans in Germany dismiss fasting and penance as superstitious practises. Anthony in turn defends these practises as justified by scripture and the tradition of the Church. Vincent now asks Anthony to deal with the second kind of tribulation. Anthony then proceeds to subdivide this kind of tribulation into two: the first being temptation and the second such forms of persecution as a man is reluctant to endure but does so to avoid giving displeasure to God. These two kinds are interrelated: in temptation the Devil persecutes us indirectly, and in persecution the Devil tempts us openly. Anthony argues paradoxically that it is a great comfort for every man to be tested by temptation, since, if he wrestles with it, it will become the matter of his salvation. Another great source of comfort is that God has promised us in many places in scripture to strengthen and sustain those who endure temptation. A Dialogue of Comfort / 242 6.5.5. Psalm 90 and the First Temptation (II:10-II:16) Anthony goes on in Book II, Chapter 10, to quote from the opening verses of Psalm 90 (91) as an example of God's promises: "Qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi, in protectione dei celi comorabitur: who so dwellith in the help of the hiest god, he shall abide in the proteccion or defence of the god of hevyn" (102/26-103/2). Psalm 90 will provide a framework for much of what follows in the Dialogue of Comfort. After briefly commenting on Psalm 90, Verse 4 (CW 12, 103-104), Anthony goes on in the following chapter, in a passage already cited, to quote verses 5 and 6: Scuto circumdabit to veritas eius / non timebis a timore nocturno I a sagitta volante in die, a negocio perambulante in tenebris, ab incursu & demonio meridiano: The trouth of god shall compasse the about with a pavice [shield], thow shalt not be aferd of the nightes feare, nor of the arrow fleyng in the day, nor of the bysynes walkyng about in the darknesses / nor of the incursion or invacion of the devill in the mydde day. (CW 12, 105/17-23). This quotation becomes a sort of leitmotif, or recurring theme, running through the rest of the Book. The structure of the 'Book of Comfort' that More the author has been writing until this point is abandoned in favour of, or perhaps more accurately not abandoned but rather subsumed into an extended meditation on Psalm 90: 5-6. The four temptations of Psalm 90 then provide the framework for the rest of Book II and all of Book III. Anthony then goes on to explicate the text of the Psalm: here sayth he [the psalmist] farther that the trouth of god shall compase the with a pavice / that is to wit that as god hath faythfully promisid to protect & defend those that faythfully will dwell in the trust of his help / so will he truly perform yt / And the that such one art, will the trouth of his promise defend, not with a litell round buckeler that scant can couer the hed, but with a long large pavice... (CW 12, 106/3-9) He makes it clear that this "pavice" or shield is Christ himself. Anthony turns next to a consideration of the first temptation of Psalm 90, the night's fear, which he interprets as consisting of those temptations of the devil, which tempt good A Dialogue of Comfort / 243 men to impatience and anger—the sufferings of Job are a clear example of this kind of temptation. This temptation is called the night's fear for two reasons: the tribulation is often dark and unknown, and the dangers of the temptation, like the terrors of the night itself, are often greatly exaggerated. One form this temptation can take is pusillanimity (faintheartedness); another is an overscrupulous conscience. To illustrate this fear Anthony tells one of More's most famous 'merry tales'— the Tale of Mother Maud— about an ass with an overscrupulous conscience and a wolf whose conscience was too accommodating. 64 Anthony then asserts that one of the most serious forms that the temptation of the night's fear or pusillanimity takes is the desire to kill oneself. Vincent replies that those who are tempted to kill themselves can never escape the temptation. To which Anthony responds: many a good man & woman hath some tyme / ye diuers yeres one after other continually be temptid therto / & yet haue by grace & good counsayle well and vertuously withstand yt, & bene in conclucion clerely deliuerid of hit / & there tribulacion nothyng knowen abrode & therfor nothyng talkyd of. (CW 12, 122/23-123/2) Vincent is obviously troubled by the problem of suicide, which becomes one of the major themes of Book 11. 65 He is not satisfied with Anthony's claim that the desire to kill oneself is an expression of pusillanimity, and goes on to interject that the desire to kill oneself may be an expression of great courage and boldness, and not fear as Anthony had previously claimed. Anthony does not deny that some are driven by anger or pride to kill themselves, but claims that they do not need comfort. Vincent is puzzled by this claim. After this, Anthony tells a merry tale in which a carpenter's wife taunts her husband into chopping her head off. He concludes that "this temptacion in procuring her own deth" was "no tribulacion at all, as far as euer men could perceve / for it liked her well to thynke theron, & she evyn longid therfor" (126/24-27), and goes on to state that she needed to be counselled, not comforted. After telling another merry tale in the same vein, Anthony again A Dialogue of Comfort / 244 concludes: "this kynd of temptation to a mans own destruction which requireth counsayle / & is out of tribulacion / was out of our mater that is to treate of comfort in tribulacion" (129/3-5). Vincent and Anthony then discuss (in Chapter 16) the case, taken from Cassian's Collations Book 11:5, of a monk who thought it was God's will to kill himself. Cassian's description is as follows: Remember the old man Hero who was cast down from the heights to the lowest depths because of a diabolical illusion. I remember how he remained fifty years in this desert, keeping to the rigors of abstinence with a severity that was outstanding, loving the secrecy of the solitary life with a fervor marvelously greater than that of any one else dwelling here. After such toil how and why could he have been fooled by the deceiver?... Surely the reason for it was that he had too little of the virtue of discernment and that he preferred to be guided by his own ideas rather than to bow to the advice and conferences of his brethern and to the rules laid down by our predecessors.... This presumptuousness led to his being fooled. He showed the utmost veneration for the angel of Satan, welcoming him as if he were actually an angel of light. Yielding totally to his bondage he threw himself headlong into a well.... He was pulled out half-dead by his brothers, who had to struggle very hard at it. He would die two days later. Worse, he was to cling firmly to his illusion, and the very experience of dying could not persuade him that he had been the sport of devilish skill. Those who pitied him his leaving had the greatest difficulty in obtaining the agreement of abbot Paphnutius that... he should not be classed among the suicides and, hence, be deemed unworthy of the remembrance and prayers offered for the dead. 66 This chapter represents, as far as I know, together with More's own earlier brief account of suicide in Utopia, 67 the first serious treatment of suicide in English literature, and possibly one of the first such treatments in Western literature since classical antiquity. Unfortunately, it is beyond the scope of this present study to deal with it. However, I will point to one important feature—much of Chapter 16 (CW 12, 129-57) consists of a "dialogue-within-a-dialogue" in which Anthony and Vincent imagine themselves `counselling' the spiritual man of Cassian's Collations, and consider the different kinds of good advice, comfort and counsel that could be given under the circumstances.68 A Dialogue of Comfort / 245 6.5.6. The Second and Third Temptations of Psalm 90 (II:16-11:17) After Anthony ends his lengthy discussion of suicide, Vincent expresses concern that he has kept him from his dinner. Anthony reassures him that he had already dined before Vincent came. Anthony then goes on (CW 12, 157-66) to interpret the second temptation of Psalm 90, "the arrow flying in the day," as: the arrow of pride, with which the devill temptith a man / not in the night / that is to wit in tribulacion & aduersite / for that tyme is to dyscomfortable & to fearefull for pride / but in the day that is to wit in prosperite / for that time is full of lightsome lust & corage. (CW 12, 157/20-24) Anthony then suggests that the temptation to pride in prosperity is a source of tribulation for many good men. This temptation takes the forms of ambitious glory, arrogance, contempt for the poor, oppression and extortion. Many good men in positions of authority are troubled by these temptations. Anthony advises that such men should stay in their offices if possible but should also seek the help of a good confessor. Vincent responds that he likes Anthony's counsels well, and thinks they are very profitable to those in prosperity. Anthony then turns (CW 12, 166-87) to the third temptation of Psalm 90, "the business walking in the darkness": And now will I touch one word or twayn of the third temptacion (wherof the prophet speketh in these wordes) A negocio perambulante in tenebris: from the besines walkyng in the darknes / & than will we call for our dener levyng the last temptacion that is to wit / Ab incursu & demonio meridiano / from the incursion & the devill of the midd day / till after none / & than shall we therwith god willyng make an end of all this mater. (CW 12, 165/24-30) Anthony interprets the Negotium of Psalm 90: 6 as a devil that tempts men to much evil business or frantic activity in pursuit of worldly goods and pleasures. The great sin here is the inordinate desire for and attachment to riches. Vincent objects that he cannot see how any rich man can be saved, unless he gives all his riches to the poor. Anthony argues that A Dialogue of Comfort / 246 Christ did not condemn riches as such, but rather inordinate attachment to worldly possessions. We must be ready to renounce all for Christ's sake. The rich man has his place—he can give alms to beggars and serve as an employer to the poor. 69 He should also use his riches to care for his family and his own servants, if they are old or sick. After Anthony has concluded dealing with the third temptation, dinner is brought in. They say grace and then sit down to dinner, and Anthony tells Vincent that he needs to sleep for a while after dinner. Vincent says that he has an errand to run, and will return when it is done. 6.5.7. The Beginning of Book III (III:Preface-III:1) Book III opens on a sombre note with Vincent apologizing for having tarried too long: by reason that I was lettid with one that shewid me a lettre datid at Constantinople / by which lettre it apperith that the greate Turke preparith a mervelouse mighty army / And iet whether he will therwith / that can there yet no man tell.... (CW 12, 188/7-11) Up till now the fictional setting of the Dialogue in Hungary has only occasionally been exploited, but from now on it becomes crucial. We are suddenly and forcefully reminded of the extreme danger facing both Anthony and Vincent—the virtual certainty of a Turkish invasion and of the persecution and suffering that is bound to follow. The first two books naturally have been leading up to this all along, but the reader has been very cleverly beguiled and distracted by the merry tales and banter of much of Book II. All this only reinforces the horror that confronts us in Book III. In a way that parallels the divisions in Utopia, the first two books of the Dialogue of Comfort prepare us and provide a framework for 'the spectre of the abyss,' that More unfolds for us in Book III. When he hears the news, Anthony does not try to offer Vincent any words of false comfort. Vincent is naturally very upset at the imminent prospect of the Turkish invasion. Anthony suggests that the Turk will use cunning, coming with the pretence of giving aid to A Dialogue of Comfort / 247 support one Hungarian faction against another. Vincent starts desperately clutching at straws: "Yet say they vncle that he vseth not to force any man to forsake his fayth" (189/28-29). Anthony reminds Vincent that the Grand Turk maketh a solempne othe among the ceremonyes of the fest in which he first taketh vppon hym his aucthorite / that he shall in all that he possible may, minysh the fayth of Christ, & dilate the fayth of Mahumet.... (CW 12, 190/3-6) and goes on to describe the various horrors that the Grand Turk inflicts on Christian populations—that he subjects them to heavy taxes, takes away their lands and their children, and carries many of them off into slavery. Vincent expresses the fear that many Christians will renounce their faith after the Turkish invasion. Anthony offers Vincent no crumbs of false comfort. The Turkish invasion is a punishment for the evils of Christian society, and it is necessary now before it happens to prepare for the worst. It is the duty of every faithful Christian to confess his faith even at the risk of being persecuted. 6.5.8. The Fourth Temptation (111:2-111:4) Anthony now returns to the fourth temptation of Psalm 90, "the incursion of the noonday devil," which he says is entirely applicable to their present situation: The fourth temptation Cosyn that the prophet speketh of in the fore remembrid psalme, Qui habitat in adiutorio altissimi &c ys playne open persecucion / which is touchid in these wordes / Ab incursu et demonio meridiano I And of all his temptations this is the most perilouse, the most bittre sharpe, & the most rigorouse... (CW 12, 200/5-9) The distinguishing mark of this temptation of persecution for the faith is that the devil "suffreth hym selfe so playnely be percevid by his fierce maliciouse persecucion agaynst the faythfull christiens for hatrid of christes trew catholike fayth" (200/19-21). In all other temptations: "he stelith on like a fox / but in this Turkes persecucion for the fayth, he runnyth on roryng with assawt lyke a rampyng lyon" (200/31-201/2). This form of A Dialogue of Comfort / 248 temptation is the most perilous because the devil uses both "his allectiue [allurement] of quyete & rest by deliueraunce from deth & payne" and "the terrour & infliccion of intollerable payne and turment" (201/8-11), as a means to persuade the Christian to give up his faith. Vincent replies to his uncle: The more perilouse vncle that this temptacion is / as in dede of all temptacions the most perilouse it is: the more nede haue they that stand in perell therof, to be before with substanciall advise & good counsayle well armyd agaynst it / that we may with the comfort & consolacion therof, the bettre bere that tribulacion whan yt commeth, & the bettre withstand the temptacion. (CW 12, 201/32-202/5) Anthony responds: "that of this tribulacion somewhat you be more ferd than I / and of trouth somewhat more excusable it is in you than it were in me, myn age considerid / and the sorow that I haue suffrid al redy" (202/9-11). Vincent does not deny that he is afraid, but expresses concern for their relatives as well. Anthony also expresses concern for their fate. The framework for most of the rest of Book III is laid out in Chapter 3 (203-205). Anthony begins with the Aristotelian dictum that man is made of both body and sou1, 7° and that "all the harm that any man may take / it must nedes be in one of these two" (203/7-8). Anthony declares that he will not rehearse any of the harms that may come to the soul except for the case that "by some inordinate love & affeccion that the soule here to the bodye / she consent to slyde fro the fayth, & therby doth her harm her selfe" (203/12-14). (This possible harm that may come to the soul is postponed to the end of Book III in the discussion of Christian Martyrdom in Chapters 23-27.) Anthony asks Vincent to list the various forms of harm that can come to the body, starting with "outward thynges." Vincent mentions the loss of "mony / plate / & other moveable substaunce / than offices, authorite, & fynally all the landes of his enheritaunce for euer / that hymselfe & his heires perpetually might elles enioy" (203/23-26). These, together with the loss of a good name (not mentioned A Dialogue of Comfort / 249 in the above list), become the matter for Chapters 5-16 (206-44). Vincent declares that the loss of these leads to neediness, poverty, and the shame of begging, which causes much grief to good men. As for the body itself "Now for the bodye very few wordes shall serue vs / For therin I se none other harme but losse of libertie / labour / imprisonament, paynfull and shamfull deth" (204/8-10). This last list of tribulations—interpreted as deportation into captivity and slavery, imprisonment, and being put to a painful and violent death—become the matter of the latter part of Book III, from Chapters 17-22 (244-88). The last of these, a shameful and painful death, becomes subsumed into a treatment of being put to death in the coming persecution for the faith, and of the glories of Christian Martyrdom (288-320), with which Book III finally ends. There is thus, in the course of Book III, a clear psychological and spiritual movement from the "outward" to the "inward," a progressive stripping away of all attachments, until the faithful Christian is finally stripped of life itself—and yet the ending of the book is a joyful and even glorious one, one of the most magnificent "purple passages" in all of More's works. 6.5.9. The Loss of Outward Things (111:5-111:16) Anthony begins his account of the harms that can come to the body by arguing that the benefits of worldly possessions have been greatly exaggerated. Often the worst men, such as the Great Turk and his nobles, have the greatest possessions. It is foolish to put our trust in our money or our possessions, when they can so easily be taken away from us by others. Lands and estates offer no more security, since they frequently change hands. Nor is the possession of a good name necessarily a great benefit to us. Often a man is flattered to his face only to be ridiculed behind his back. The possession of great offices and positions of authority likewise brings little benefit. The harm we take at the hands of our superiors often outweighs the benefits we receive from those under us. We cannot keep any of our possessions for very long: in the end we all must die. If we have sought these possessions for A Dialogue of Comfort / 250 worldly reasons, then they will do harm to the soul—puffing a man up with pride and leading him to oppress the innocent. Vincent agrees with Anthony but points out that most men who desire offices and positions of authority pretend that they do so in order to do some good with them. Anthony declares that the Turkish persecution will act like a touchstone separating "faynid" believers who are ready to forsake their faith to keep their goods from "trew myndid" ones, who "shall lese their goodes that will not leve their fayth" (226/26). Vincent expresses his fear that "we shall find few of such as haue much to lese / that shall fynd in their hartes so sodenly to forsake their good" (228/18-19). At this point Anthony asks Vincent to play-act the role of one of these rich men: And I pray you Cosyn take his person vppon you / & in this case answere for hym / what lettith [hinders] you wold I aske... what lettith I say therfor your lordship that you be not gladly content without any deliberacion at all / in this kynd of persecucion / rather than to leve your fayth / to let go all that euer you haue at ones. (CW 12, 229/2-9) What follows is another dialogue-within-a-dialogue similar to the one in Book II, Chapter 16. Vincent agrees to accept the role of the "Great Lord," and replies that what prevents him are the many benefits he derives from his possessions. He also thinks that he can outwardly profess belief in the Turk's faith, and still inwardly believe in Christ. Anthony replies "Nay nay my lord / Christ hath not so greate nede of your Lordshippe, as rather than to lese your service, he wold fall at such covenauntes with you / to take your service at halfes, to serve hym & his enymy both" (230/2-5). Such measures will not work with the Great Turk either, since he will force the Christian in the end to renounce Christ completely. Anthony asks Vincent-the-Great-Lord how he knows he will keep his wealth. The Great Turk could very easily deprive him of his wealth even if he does convert, and even if the Great Turk lets him keep his wealth, God himself can deprive the Great Lord of his wealth. Vincent replies "God is graciouse / & though that men offend hym, yet he suffreth them many tymes to live in A Dialogue of Comfort / 251 prosperite long after" (235/29-30). Anthony denies this: how can anyone possess their wealth for long when life itself is short. Though God is patient, he eventually punishes evil doers. God will deprive the Great Lord of his wealth when he least expects it, and will cast the Great Lord's soul into Hell for rejecting his faith. Vincent agrees with Anthony and declares that he will stop play-acting the role of the Great Lord, that he wishes "in this mater to play their part no lenger / but I pray god give me the grace to play the contrary parte in dede" (237/24-25). 6.5.10. Bodily Pain, Captivity and Imprisonment (III:1 7-111:22) After finishing their discussion of the "outward" harms that can come to the Christian, Anthony and Vincent turn to the harms that can come to the body itself. Vincent begins by stating that even, if the Turks were to deprive him of all his possessions, he would not forsake his faith in Christ. However, he expresses fear at the prospect of physical suffering: "But surely good vncle, whan I bethynke me ferther on the greefe & the payne that may tourne vnto my flesh: here fynd I the feare that forceth myne hart to tremble" (245/13-15). Anthony reminds Vincent that Christ himself expressed fear at his own sufferings in his Passion. Anthony urges Vincent to meditate on Christ's sufferings. Christ's Passion will then inspire him with strength to face his own sufferings. Vincent finds himself greatly comforted by Anthony's words. Anthony then turns to consider the various forms of physical suffering that the Turks will inflict (repeating the list of tribulations already given in Chapter 3): Let vs examyne the weyght & the substaunce of those bodely paynes as the sorest part of this persecucion which you rehersid before / which were yf I remember you right / tharldome [slavery] / imprisonment / paynfull & shamfull deth / and first let vs (as reason is) begyn with the tharldome / for that was as I remember the first. (CW 12, 250/16-20) Vincent replies: "me thinketh vncle that captyuite is a mervelouse hevy thing namely whan A Dialogue of Comfort / 252 they shall (as they most comonly do) cary vs far from home into a staunge vncouth lande" (250/22-25). Anthony reminds Vincent that God is present everywhere: I am very sure, that whether so euer men convey me / god is no more verely here than he shalbe there / 711 yf I get (as I may yf I will) the grace to set my hole hart vppon hym / & long for nothyng but hym / yt can than make me no greate mater to my mynd / whether they cary me hense or leve me here.... (CW 12, 251/7-12) Anthony goes on to argue that the pains of captivity seem worse "because we take our formare liberty / for more a great dele than in dede yt was" (252/4-5). He continues by defining captivity as "the violent restraynt of a man, beyng so subdued vnder the domynyon rule & power of an other / that he must do what the tother lyst to commaund hym, & may not do at his libertie such thinges as he lyst hym selfe" (252/7-10). He points out that our liberty is restrained by human laws, and that furthermore every man is under bondage to sin. Since Christ himself took the form of a 'slave' when he became man, we should not be ashamed to be slaves for his sake. Anthony then goes on to define imprisonment as "the retaynyng of a mans persoune, within the circute of a certen space narower or larger as shalbe lymyted vnto hym, restraynyng his libertie fro the further goyng into any other place" (257/21-23). Anthony asks Vincent the seemingly nonsensical question whether he knows of any man "that is at this day owt of prison" (258/16). Vincent replies: "What one man vncle / mary I know almost none other / for surely prisoner am I none acquentid with / that I remember" (258/18-19). More now introduces through the mouth of Anthony the theme of the world as prison that he had earlier on developed in The Four Last Things, 72 a theme that goes back to Plato's Allegory of the Cave in the Republic and Boethius's Consolation of Philosophy: But now sith you can name me none of them that are in prison / I pray you name some one of all them, that you be as you say / better acquentid with / men I meane that are out of prison / for I know me thinketh as few of them as you know of the tother... (CW 12, 259/9-12) A Dialogue of Comfort / 253 Vincent interjects: "That were vncle a straunge case / for euery man is vncle out of prison, that may go where he will / though he be the porest begger in the Towne" (259/14-16). Anthony responds with the astonishing assertion that even "the great Turke by whome we so feare to be put in prison [is] in prison all redy hymselfe" (259/25-26), because he may not go where he will. He goes on to argue that neither a king nor a beggar is free to go everywhere they wish (i.e., there are always some places they cannot go to): but that yf they wold walke in some place / neyther of them both shuld be suffrid but men wold withstand them / & say them nay / therfor yf imprisonment be (as you graunt yt is) a lak of libertie to go where we lyst / I can not se but as I say, the beggar & the prince whom you reken both at libertie, be by your own reason <restraynyd> in prison both. (CW 12, 260/12-17) Vincent refuses to accept Anthony's argument and replies: But they may go at the lest wise to euery place that they nede, or that is commodiouse for them / & therfor they do not will to go but where they may go / And therfor be they at libertie to go where they will. (CW 12, 260/29-261/3) Vincent goes on to reject his uncle's arguments, and replies that the claim that "euery man is in prison all redye / be but sophisticall fantasies" (262/16-17). Anthony replies: Well fare thyne hart good Cosyn Vincent / There was in good fayth no word that you spake syns we talkyd of these matters, that halfe so well liked me as this that you speke now / For yf you had assentid in wordes / & in your mynd departyd vnperswadid / than yf the thing be trew that I say / yet had you lost the frute / & yf it be peradventure false & my selfe decevid therM / than while I shuld wene that yt liked you to / you shuld haue confyrmyd me in my folye / for in good fayth Cosyn such an old fole am I, that this thing, in the perswadyng wherof vnto you I had went I had quyt me well / & whan I haue all done apperith to your mynd but a tryfle / & a sophisticall fantasye / my selfe haue so many yeres taken for so very substanciall trewth.... (CW 12, 262/20-263/1) Anthony invites Vincent to stand his ground firmly: "And hardely spet well on your handes & take good hold, & give yt not ouer agaynst your own mynd" (263/6-7). They return once more to the argument and Vincent challenges his uncle: "By my trowth vncle / these thinges A Dialogue of Comfort / 254 wold I fayne se well provid" (263/27). With a masterly stroke, Anthony brings forward the case of a man who is attainted for treason and condemned to death but who in the time between his attainder and his execution is free to have the use of his lands, and is given free access to his family and friends, but with this one condition that when he is summoned, he must be ready to go to his execution. Vincent replies that for all the favours shown him, that the attainted man is still a prisoner. Anthony then goes on to develop the image of God as divine judge and executioner: euery man is here (though he be the greest [greatest] kyng vppon earth) set here by the ordenaunce of god in a place (be it neuer so large) a place I say yet (and you say the same) out of which no man can escape / but that therein ys euery man put vnder sure & safe kepyng to be redely fet [fetched] forth whan god tallith for hym, & that than he shall surely dye / And is not than Cosyn by your own grauntyng before, every man a <very> prisoner / whan he is put in a place to be kept to be brote forth / when he wold not, & hym selfe wot [knows] not whyther. (CW 12, 267/12-20) Vincent finally accepts the force of his uncle's argument that "euery man is in this world a very prisoner" (270/17-18). Anthony then goes on to further develop the image of God as "chiefe gaylour ouer this whole brode prison / the world" (271/21-22). Vincent, however, objects "that poynt most I nedes deny / for I neyther see hym [God] ley any man in the stokkes, or strike fetters on his legges / or so much as shete hym vpp in a chamber eyther" (274/8-11). Anthony responds that unlike other jailers, God uses invisible means to punish man, including disease and sickness, and after enumerating various examples, he concludes: "yf we consider yt well / we shall fynd this generall prison of this whole earth, a place in which the prisoners be as sore handlid as they be in the tother [prisons]" (275/8-11). Anthony goes on to cite the example of Christ as prisoner: A Dialogue of Comfort / 255 Fynally Cosyn to finish this piece with, our saviour was hym selfe taken prisoner for our sake, & prisoner was he caried, & prisoner was he kept / & prisoner was he brought forth before Annas, & prisoner from Annas caried vnto Cayphas / < than prisoner was he > caried from Cayphas vnto Pilate / & prisoner was he sent from Pilate to kyng herode / prisoner from herode vnto Pilate agayne / & so kept as prisoner to thend of his passhion / The tyme of his ymprisonment I graunt well was not long / but as for hard handlyng (which our hartes most aborre) he had as mich in that short while / as many men among them all in mich lenger tyme.... (CW 12, 279/26-280/5) 6.5.11. Persecution and Martyrdom (111:23-111:27) Vincent now expresses his deepest anxiety and fear that the Turkish invasion, and the subsequent persecution against the Christian faith, will cause many to renounce their faith out of fear, rather than suffer a shameful death at the hands of the Turks. Anthony responds: "how can that deth be shamfull, that is gloryouse / or how can that be but gloriouse to dye for the fayth of christ, yf we dye both for the fayth & in the fayth ioynid with hope & charite" (288/24-26). He goes on to affirm that any man who suffers for the faith of Christ, however vile and shameful it seems in the eyes of a few worldly wretches, is "approvid for very preciouse & honourable, in the sight of god / & of all the gloriouse company of hevyn" (290/5-7). The act of suffering for Christ's faith: that we worldly wrechid folys wene [think] were vilany & shame, the blessid apostles rekenid for greate glory / for they when they were with despite & shame scourgid, & there apon commaundid to speke no more of the name of christ / went ther way fro the councell ioyfull & glad, that god had vouchsafed to do them the worship [honour], to suffer shamfull despite for the name of Ihesu.... (CW 12, 290/26-291/3) Even Christ himself "was not so prowde to disdayne for our sakes, the most vylanouse & most shamfull deth after the worldly compt [reckoning] that then was vsid in the world" (291/22-24). Anthony concludes that since Christ said that the servant is not above his master, and since he himself endured "so many kyndes of paynfull shame / very prowd beastes may we well thynke our selfe / yf we disdayne to do as our master did" (292/4-6). A Dialogue of Comfort / 256 Vincent objects that shame is one thing that can be mastered, but no one can master pain in the same way. Anthony replies that while no one can deny the reality of pain, reason combined with faith and the grace of God will make it easier for a man to bear a painful death here on earth for the sake of achieving everlasting life in Heaven. Vincent responds that though he can find no counter-arguments, nonetheless, he thinks that if the Turks once set upon the Hungarians, they will be so fearful, that many will abandon their faith. Anthony replies that God will give us grace to strengthen us in the midst of persecution. Vincent objects that every man is naturally afraid of pain. Anthony reminds him that the pains of Hell are greater than anything we can endure here. He also points out to Vincent that a natural death from sickness and disease is often more painful and more prolonged than a violent one. He who forsakes the faith of Christ out of fear of a violent death may not only suffer a natural death that is a thousand times more painful, but will also be condemned to everlasting pain in Hell. Anyone who considers this will not be afraid to endure the most terrible sufferings the Turks can inflict rather than be cast into the pains of Hell. Vincent agrees that if we often think of these pains of Hell, that point alone will be enough to make many a martyr in Hungary. Anthony goes on to talk of the joys of Heaven and the Passion of Christ: Forsoth Cosyn yf we were such as we shuld be, I wold scant for very shame, in exortacion to the kepyng of Christes fayth speke of the paynes of hell / I wold rather put vs in mynd of the Ioyes of heven / the pleasure wherof we shuld be more glad to gete / than we shuld be to flye & escape all the paynes in hell.... (CW 12, 305/5-9) We should have such a fervent longing for the joys of Heaven: "that we may for attaynyng to them, vtterly set at nought all fleshly delight, all worldly pleasures / all erthly losses, all bodely tourment and payne" (307/1-3). Anthony recommends that we should keep in our minds by reading, in our ears by hearing, in our mouths by speaking, and in our hearts by meditation and thinking: "Those ioyfull wordes of holy scripture / by which we lerne how A Dialogue of Comfort / 257 wonderfull howge & greate those spirituall hevenly Ioyes are" (308/12-14). Anthony then paraphrases the words of St. Paul (1 Cor. 2:9): For sewerly for this state of this world, the byes of hevyn are by mans mowth vnspekeable / to mans eares not audible / to mens hartes vncogitable / so farforth excell they all that euer men haue hard of / all that euer men can speke of / and all that ever any man can by naturall possibilitie thinke on.... (CW 12, 309/4-8) After describing the joys of Heaven, Anthony moves on to the theme of identification with the suffering Christ: "Now to this greate glory, can there no man come hedlesse. Our hed is Christ / & therfor to hym must we be Ioynid / & as membres of his must we folow hym / yf we will come thither" (311/15-17). Christ is our guide and we must walk in the same path in which Christ walked. Anthony cites the words of Christ to the two disciples on the road to Emmaus (Luke 24:26): knew you not that Christ must suffre passion, & by that way entre into his kyngdome? Who can for very shame desire to entre into the kyngdom of Christ with ease, whan hym selfe entrid not into his own without payne. (CW 12, 311/24-28) Anthony then suggests to Vincent that he meditate on Christ's passion: "So say I now / for paynefull deth also, that yf we could & wold with dew compassion, conceyve in our myndes a right Imagynacion & remembraunce of Christes byttre paynefull passion" (312/10-13), that this would makes us "not onely content, but also glad & desierouse to suffre deth for his sake / that so mervelously lovyngly lettid not to sustayne so farre passyng paynfull deth for <ours> " (313/5-7). Anthony returns once more to the imagery of Psalm 90: And therfor Cosyn, let vs well consider these thynges, & let vs haue sure hope in the helpe of god / & than I dowt not, but that we shalbe sure, that as the prophet sayth, the truth of his promise shall so compace vs with a pavise, that of this incursion of this mydday devill / this Turkes persecution / we shall neuer nede to fere / for eyther yf we trust in god well, & prepare vs therfor / the Turke shall neuer medle with vs / or els yf A Dialogue of Comfort / 258 he do, harm shall he none do vs / but in stede of harme inestimable good.... (CW 12, 315/30-316/8) Anthony describes the various ways that God strengthens his holy martyrs and points out that the Turks are only instruments of the devil: "The Turkes are but his tourmentours, for hymselfe doth the dede" (317/16-17). He goes on to quote the words of St. Paul (Eph. 6:12): Our wrestlyng is not agaynst flesh & bloud &c. Thus may we see that in such persecucions, it is the mydday devill hym selfe that maketh such incursion vppon vs, by the men that are his ministers to make vs fall for feare / For till we fall, he can neuer hurt vs. (CW 12, 317/24-27) If the devill threatens us "let vs tell hym that our capten Christ is with vs, & that we shall fight with his strength that hath vainquyshid hym al redy" (318/16-17). When we feel ready to faint, we should remember Christ's strength. In our fear we should remember Christ's bitter agony: "& than nede we neuer to dowt / but that eyther he shall kepe vs from the paynfull deth / or shall not fayle so to strength vs in yt, that he shall ioyously bryng vs to hevyn by yt" (318/29-32). Anthony ends his long meditation on the Passion of Christ by reaffirming once more the joys of Heaven: For surely myn own good Cosyn, remembre that yf yt were possible for me and you alone, to suffre as mych trowble as the whole world doth together / all that were not worthy of yt selfe, to bryng vs to the ioy which we hope to haue euerlastyngly / And therfor I pray you let the consideracion of that Ioy, put all worldly trowble out of your hart... (CW 12, 319/25-320/1) Anthony finally comes to the end of his long discourse: "And evyn thus will I good Cosyn with these wordes, make a sodayne end of myn whole tale, & bid you fare well / For now begynne I to fele my selfe somewhat werye" (320/2-4). Vincent thanks his uncle for all his labours and promises to write down an account of Anthony's "good counsayle." The work ends with a prayer by Anthony for its readers: And in the meane tyme, I besech our lord to breth of his holy spirite into the readers brest, which inwardly may tech hym in hart, without whome A Dialogue of Comfort / 259 litle availeth all that all the mowthes of the world were able to tech in mens eares / And thus good Cosyn fare well, till god bryng vs together agayne, eyther here or in hevyn / Amen.(CW 12, 320/23-28) The ending is indeed very sudden in a way that is very characteristic of More— a trait that sometimes makes it difficult to tell whether some of More's works, e.g. De tristitia, are complete or not. However, there is no question here of the work lacking a resolution. 6.6. CONCLUSION The Dialogue of Comfort has been considered by many modern readers to be More's greatest English work. It certainly seems to be one of the most complex and elusive of his writings. The back and forth movement of the dialogue is an integral part of the argument. As with so many of More's other works, the Dialogue of Comfort in Tribulation is richly polysemic and polyphonic. The voices that engage us in dialogue or confront us dialectically in More's dialogues call for active engagement on the part of the reader. We are invited, even sometimes manipulated, cajoled and bullied into making a personal response. Vincent comes to Anthony at the beginning of the dialogue, because, naturally, he is afraid of what the Turks will do if they invade. It falls to the part of Anthony to try to comfort and strengthen him. Anthony does this, paradoxically, by exploring the nature of tribulation, and in particular the kind of tribulation that Vincent is likely to face, and by leading Vincent through a careful examination of all the suffering and distress that he is likely to experience when the Turks invade. As a result, Vincent grows greatly in stature in the course of the work, especially in Book III, though Anthony has the last word. In this spiritual masterpiece, More confronts each one of us with the question of how we are to bear up under suffering. There are many who seem virtuous or good but who, when put to the test, completely crumble. There are many forms of apostacy, many forms of betrayal. The work has a surprisingly powerful impact on an emotional as well as an intellectual level. This is not dry, academic philosophy that More is writing. If the Dialogue of Comfort is often irritating and disturbing, or upsetting in places, though this may seem paradoxical in a work of 'comfort,' the effect, as in More's other great works, is quite deliberate. The A Dialogue of Comfort / 260 comfort that More, the author, offers the reader is hard won. More makes the careful and attentive reader look into his own heart first and confronts him with the 'Abyss,' before offering him any comfort. The comfort paradoxically comes through facing the 'inner darkness,' the terrors that fly by night of Psalm 90, as well as the dangers of external persecution, the 'noon-day devil.' The psychological and spiritual movement of the dialogue is thus quite clear. A Dialogue of Comfort / 261 NOTES 1. The Field is Won: The Life and Death of Saint Thomas More (London: Burns & Oates, 1968), 349 (quoted in The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, Vol. 12: A Dialogue of Comfort, ed. L. L. Martz and F. Manley (hereafter CW 12) (New Haven: Yale UP, 1976), lxxxvii). 2. G. R. Elton, EHR 93 (1978): 399-400, rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies, Volume 3: Papers and Reviews 1973-1981 (Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1983), 454. 3. Ibid., 402 (Tudor and Stuart Studies, 3:457). Elton does, however, admit that "Vincent and Anthony, especially the latter, are well realized individuals provided with personal histories of participation in wars, court acquaintances... and so forth" ibid., 403-04 (459-60). 4. The only summary is by L. Miles in A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation. ed. L. Miles (Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1965), 243-251. Miles's summary is too brief and fails to bring out the contributions of the individual speakers. In the Yale Edition, Frank Manley provides a detailed analysis (but not outline) of "The Argument of the Book," CW 12, lxxxvi-cxvii. 5. See N. C. Yee, "Thomas More's Moriae Encomium: The Perfect Fool in A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation," Moreana 101/102 (1990): 65-74. 6. L. L. Martz, "More as Author: The Virtues of Digression," Moreana 62 (1979): 105-19; rev. vers. as "The Order of the Heart," Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man (New Haven: Yale UP, 1990), 29-51, 106-07. 7. See The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, Vol. 14: De Tristitia Christi, 2 vols. (hereafter CW 14) (New Haven: Yale UP, 1976). 8. See The Complete Works of St. Thomas More, Vol. 13: Treatise upon the Passion, Treatise on the Blessed Body, Instructions and Prayers, ed. G. E. Haupt (hereafter CW 13) (New Haven: Yale UP, 1976), xxxvii-xliiii, and St. Thomas More: Selected Letters, ed. E. F. Rogers, Selected Works of St. Thomas More (New Haven: Yale UP, 1961), #48, pp. 185-88. 9. The English Treatise on the Passion, A Treatise to Receive the Blessed Body, and More's prayers and meditations are all edited in CW 13. 10. See Rogers, #200-218, pp. 501-565. 11. For a description of the manuscripts, see CW 12, xix-xxi; and R. Hanna III., "Two New Texts of More's Dialogue of Comfort," Moreana 74 (1982): 5-11. In a personal communication during the Milton Conference held at UBC in August 1991, Louis Martz mentioned, if I have my facts right, that Yale University Library recently acquired a new manuscript of the Dialogue of Comfort that had been found in a private collection in England. 12. J. Warrington, ed., More's Utopia and A Dialogue of Comfort, Everyman's Library 461 (London: Dent, 1910; rev. ed. with modernized spelling, 1951). 13. For other modernized spelling editions see the items by P. E. Hallett, F. Manley, and M. Stevens in the section The Dialogue of Comfort: Modernizations and Translations in the Bibliographical Appendix. 14. The hardcover edition contains an extensive forty page bibliography and a hundred page introduction. The paperback edition of the same year omits most of the introduction and bibliography. A Dialogue of Comfort. / 262 15. See Hanna, "Two New Texts of More's Dialogue of Comfort," 9. 16. Figure 6.1 is based on the first possible stemma (Stemma I) suggested by the Yale editors (CW 12, 1v), and on the revised stemma given in Hanna, "Two New Texts of More's Dialogue of Comfort," 9. The 'Table of Sigla' is reproduced from CW 12, clxvii, with some modifications and omissions. 17. "CC looks like a manuscript edited for the purpose of publication" (CW 12, xxxvii). The Yale editors actually go on to argue that the Corpus Christi Manuscript was indeed used as a copytext by William Rastell for the 1557 Folio edition. They suggest that Rastell started using the 1553 edition to set the text of 1557, but switched to the CC Manuscript for Books II and III: "The result is that 1557 represents a conflation of 1553 and CC" (CW 12, lv). 18. "... he appears to have compared the A text with another manuscript in order to be sure that all of More's authentic words are given" (CW 12, xliii). 19. "The basic principle has been to follow the readings of A even when the corrections of B provide a more grammatical, more polished, or more immediately comprehensible version" (CW 12, clxiv—clxv). 20. For the relative ages of Anthony and Vincent, see M. Manzalaoui, "'Syria' in the Dialogue of Comfort," Moreana 8 (1965): 21-27, esp. 25-27. Manzalaoui estimates, from internal evidence in the Dialogue of Comfort, that Anthony is over eighty-one and that Vincent is about twenty. It is interesting to note that More's father, Sir John More (born c.1451), was about the same age as Anthony when he died in 1530, and that More's son, also named John More (born c. 1509), would have been only a little older than Vincent at the time More was writing the Dialogue of Comfort. (Manzalaoui points out that Thomas More was intermediate in age between Anthony and Vincent, but does not make the connection with More's own family.) Compare also G. Marc'hadour's discussion of William Roper (More's son-in-law) as a prototype for the Messenger in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and of the prominence of More's own father in the same dialogue, in CW 6, 481-94. 21. See Manley's seminal discussion of the multiple "audiences" in CW 12, cxx—clxiv. 22. See CW 12, cxx—cxxxv, and R. J. Schoeck, "Thomas More's Dialogue of Comfort and the Problem of the Real Grand Turk," English Miscellany 20 (1969): 23-37. See also L. Miles, "Allegory: Henry VIII and the Grand Turk," A Dialogue of Comfort, xlii—xliv (xxii—xxiii in Paperback Edition). 23. Later English Recusant Catholics would look back to More and Fisher as obvious models in their own struggles: for example, the Jesuit martyr St. Robert Southwell's Epistle of Comfort was obviously modelled on More's Dialogue of Comfort. 24. See CW 12, cxxxi—cxxxv. At one point More even equates Protestant and Turk, heretic and infidel: "there ys no born Turke so cruel] to christen folke, as is the false christen that falleth fro the fayth" (CW 12, 7/8-9). 25. See CW 12, cxxviii—cxxix, and Thomas More's Prayer Book: A Facsimile Reproduction of the Annotated Pages, ed. L. L. Martz, and R. S. Sylvester, The Elizabethan Club Series 4 (New Haven: Yale UP for the Elizabethan Club, 1969), xxxiv—xxxvi, 114, 197, where opposite Psalm 68: 7-21 More wrote: "in tribulacione dicendum fidelibus a Hu[n]garis inualescentibus turcis et multis hungarorum in turcarum perfidiam desciscentibus (to be said in [time of] tribulation by the faithful among the Hungarians when the Turks grow strong and many Hungarians fall away into the false faith of the Turks)." See also Psalms 16:8 (pp. 44, 191), 79:4 (pp. 134, A Dialogue of Comfort / 263 199), 82:2 and 84:2 (pp. 138, 140, 200), and 93:2 (pp. 153, 201). 26. See n.22. For an example of More's use of multiple levels of interpretation, see the annotation opposite Psalm 84:2 in Thomas More's Prayer Book, xxxiv-xxxvi, 140, 200: "post uictoriam uel aduersus turcas, uel aduersus demones, in tentatione uel actio graciarum post ablatam pestem aut ablatam siccitatem aut pluuiam (after victory, either against the Turks, or against the demons in temptation; or a thanksgiving after the plague, or drought, or a spell of rainy weather have been taken away)." 27. See CW 12, cxvii-cxx, and L. Miles, "Boethius and Thomas More's Dialogue of Comfort," ELN 3 (1965/66): 97-101. L. Miles also gives an extensive treatment of More's Classical, Biblical and Patristic sources in the introduction to the hardcover edition of A Dialogue of Comfort: "Sources, Themes, and Traditions," lxvi-xcviii. See also T. Finan, "Some More Comforts: More and the Consolatory Tradition," Irish Theological Quarterly 45 (1978): 205-16. 28. See CW 12, cxix, and D. Gray, "Books of Comfort," Medieval English Religious Literature: Essays in Honour of G. H. Russell, ed. G. Kratzman and J. Simpson (Woodbridge, Suffolk: Boydell and Brewer, 1986), 209-21. 29. For the related genre of the ars moriendi, which found its finest expression in the next century in Jeremy Taylor's Holy Living and Holy Dying, see N. L. Beaty, The Craft of Dying: A Study in the Literary Tradition of the Ars moriendi in England, Yale Studies in English 175 (New Haven: Yale UP, 1970). 30. For analysis of the structure of Comfort A, see F. Manley, CW 12, lxxxix-ci, and N. C. Yee, "Thomas More: in Defence of Tribulation," Moreana 74 (1982): 13-26. 31. For the function of Psalm 90 (91), see L. L. Martz, "The Design of More's Dialogue of Comfort," Moreana 15/16 (1967): 331-46 (rpt. with changes in CW 12, lxv-lxxix), rev. vers. in Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man, 64-82; J. Kuhn, "The Function of Psalm 90 in Thomas More's A Dialogue of Comfort," Moreana 22 (1969): 61-67; J. H. Sims, "Psalm 90 and the Pattern of Temptation in A Dialogue of Comfort and Paradise Regained: From 'Solicitations' to Turiose Force,'" Moreana 74 (1982): 27-37. 32. CW 12, lxxiv (rpt. in Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man, 76). 33. Ibid., lxxiv-lxxv (rpt. in Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man, 77-79). 34. See R. Arbesmann, "The Daemonium Meridianum and Greek and Latin Patristic Exegesis," Traditio 14 (1958): 17-31; R. Caillois, "Les demons de midi," Revue d'Histoire des Religions 115 (1937): 142-73 + 116 (1937): 54-83, 143-86, esp. 116: 156-72; and P. de Labriolle, "Le demon du midi," Bulletin du Cange 9 (1934): 46-54; Aldous Huxley, "Accidie," On the Margin: Notes and Essays (London: Chatto & Windus, 1923, rpt. 1948), 18-25. 35. For an edition (and French translation), , see Jean Cassien: Institutions cenobitiques, ed. J.-C. Guy, Sources Chretiennes 109 (Paris, Les Editions du Cerf, 1965). (An earlier edition in Migne, Patrologia Latina, Vol. 49.) There is an English translation in A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 11: Sulpitius Severus, Vincent of Lerins, John Cassian, ed. P. Schaff, and H. Wace (1888?; rpt. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1955). 36. This definition of acedia also anticipates suggestively the tristitia, taedium, and pauor (=anxietas) of the title of More's last major work De tristitia, tedio, pauore et oratione christi ante captionem eius. A Dialogue of Comfort / 264 37. "Sextum nobis certamen est, quod Graeci acedian uocant, quam nos taedium siue anxietatem cordis possumus nuncupare. Adfinis haec tristitiae ac solitariis magis experta et in heremo commorantibus infestior hostis ac frequens, maxime circa horam sextam monachum inquietans, ut quaedam febris ingruens tempore praestituto ardentissimos aestus accessionum suarum solitis ac statutis horis animae inferens aegrotanti. Denique nonnulli senum hunc esse pronuntiant meridianum daemonem, qui in psalmo nonagensimo nuncupatur." Sources Chretiennes, 109: 384. (Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 11: 266.) 38. "Nihilque se proficere tanto tempore in eadem commorantem crebrius ingemescit nee habere se fructum aliquem spiritalem,..." Sources Chretiennes, 109: 386. (Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 11: 267.) 39. "Dein lassitudinem corporis cibique esuriem quinta sextaque hora tantam suscitat, ut uelut longo itinere grauissimoque labore confectus sibimet lassusque uideatur,... Turn praeterea huc illucque anxius circumspectat... saepiusque egreditur et ingreditur cellam ac solem uelut ad occasum tardius properantem crebrius intuetur, et ita quadam inrationabili mentis confusione uelut taetra subpletur caligine omnique actu spiritali redditur otiosus ac uacuus...." Sources Chretiennes, 109: 386. (Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 11: 267.) 40. Sources Chretiennes, 109: 384ff. (Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, 11: 266-75.) Cassian also refers to Psalm 90 (91): 5-6 in the Collations or Conferences, Book 7, Chapter 30. The theme of Book 7 of the Collations, "On Inconstancy of Mind, and Spiritual Wickedness," is also relevant to More's exegesis of Psalm 90 (91) in Book II of the Dialogue of Comfort. For an edition (and French translation) of the Collations, see Jean Cassien: Conferences, ed. D. Pichery, Sources Chretiennes, 42, 54, 64 (Paris: Les Editions du Cerf, 1955-59). (An earlier edition in Migne, Patrologia Latina, Vol. 49.) There is an English translation in Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 11. 41. Aldous Huxley, "Accidie," 22; cf. R. Caillois, "Les demons de midi," 116: 169-71, and P. de Labriolle, "Le demon du midi," 50-53. 42. St. Bernard's commentary on Psalm 90, the Sermones in quadragesima de psalmo 'Qui habitat,' [or In Psalmum XC], can be found in Sancti Bernardi Opera (Rome: Editiones Cisterciones, 1957-1978), IV: 383-492, ed. J. Leclercq, C. H. Talbot, and H. M. Rochais. (An earlier edition in Migne, Patrologia Latina, Vol. 183, cols. 185-254.) There is an English translation in Bernard of Clairvaux: Sermons on Conversion. On Conversion, A Sermon to Clerics and Lenton Sermons on the Psalm 'He Who Dwells,' trans., M.-B. Said, Cisterian Fathers Series, 25 (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1981), 81-260, esp. 143-50. Verses 5-6 are dealt with in Sermon 6 (PL 183: 197-200). St. Bernard also commented on Psalm 90 (91): 5-6 in Sermon 33: 8-16 of the Sermons on the Song of Songs, edited in Sancti Bernardi Opera, Vol. 1 (and Migne, PL 183, cols. 785-1198). There is an English translation of Sermon 33 in The Works of Bernard of Clairvaux, Volume III: On the Song of Songs II, trans., K. Walsh, intro., J. Leclercq, Cisterian Fathers Series, 7 (Kalamazoo, MI: Cistercian Publications, 1976), 144-59. 43. See On the Song of Songs, 33: 9-10; PL 183, 955-56. (Cistercian Fathers, 7: 152-54.) 44. "Itaque primordia nostrae conversionis, juxta communis quidem experientiae rationem, primus exagitat timor, quem intrantibus statim horror vitae ingerit arctioris, et insuetae austeritas disciplinae. Atque is timor nocturnus dicitur... Vigilandum proinde et orandum primo intrantibus contra hanc primam tentationem, ne subito praeoccupati a pusillanimitate spiritus et tempestate, a bono coepto, quod absit resiliant." On the Song of Songs, 33: 11; PL 183, 957. (Cistercian Fathers, 7: 154-55.) 45. See Chi' 12, 398, note to 157/17-26, and 400, note to 166/18-167/8. See also F. Manley's comment "More follows Bernard, for example, in interpreting all the temptations A Dialogue of Comfort / 265 itemized in Ps. 90 except the last, where he switches to Augustine" CW 12, cxlvii, n.2. 46. See On the Song of Songs, 33: 12 (PL 183. 957; Cistercian Fathers, 7: 155); and On Psalm 90, 6:3 (PL 183, 198; Cistercian Fathers, 25: 145). 47. "Nimirum sagitta haec vana gloria est: non est unde haec impugnet pusillanimes et remissos. Qui ferventiores esse videntur, ipsi paveant, ipsi sibi caveant in hac parte: nihilominus adhuc solliciti non deserere scutum inexpugnabile veritatis... Difficile prorsus, ni fallor, homo verbis laudantium hominem, in vita sua abduci poterit altum sapere, si se intus ad lucem veritatis sollicita consideratione disentiat. Nonne enim si propriam cogitat conditionem, dicturus est sibi: Quid superbis, terra et cinis? (Ecclus, x, 9.) Nonne si propriam consideret corruptionem, fateatur necesse est quoniam non est in eo bonum?" On Psalm 90, 6:3; PL 183, 198. (Cistercian Fathers, 25: 145). 48. "a negotio perambulante in tenebris, quod est hypocrisis. Etenim ista de ambitione descendit, et in tenebris habitatio ejus" On the Song of Songs, 33: 12; PL 183, 957. (Cistercian Fathers, 7: 155.) 49. "Contempsit vanam gloriam, ait, quoniam vana est: forte solidius aliquid affectaret, forte honores, forte divitias." On Psalm 90, 6:4; PL 183, 198. (Cistercian Fathers, 25: 146). 50. "Serpit hodie putida tabes per omne corpus Ecclesiae...." On the Song of Songs, 33: 15; PL 183, 958-59. (Cistercian Fathers, 7: 157.) 51. "Ipsa quoque ecclesiasticae dignitatis officia in turpem quaestum et tenebrarum negotium transiere: nec in his salus animarum, sed luxus quaeritur divitiarum... Pro episcopatibus et archidiaconatibus impudenter hodie decertatur, ut ecclesiarum redditus in superfluitatis et vanitatis usus dissipentur." On Psalm 90, 6:7; PL 183, 200. (Cistercian Fathers, 25: 149). See also the parallel description of ecclesiastical profligacy in On the Song of Songs, 33: 15. (PL 183, 959; Cistercian Fathers, 7: 158.) 52. "Nec enim haec merito cedunt, sed negotio illi, quod perambulat in tenebris." On the Song of Songs, 33: 15; PL 183, 959. (Cistercian Fathers, 7: 158.) 53. Cassiodorus's commentary on Psalm 90 (91) is edited in Magni Aurelii Cassiodori: Expositio Psalmorum, LXXI-CL, Corpus Christianorum, 98 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1958), 829-35. (An earlier edition in Migne, Patrologia Latina, Vol. 70, cols. 650-55.) There is an English translation in Cassiodorus: Explanation of the Psalms. Vol. II: Psalms 51-100, ed. P. G. Walsh, Ancient Christian Writers, 52 (New York: Paulist Press, 1991), 379-87. 54. "Timor itaque nocturnes est haereticorum tenebrosa suasio. Sagitta uolans per diem manifesta persecutio tyrannorum. Negotium in tenebris, cum prauo studio perquiritur, unde bene credentium cordis oculus obcaecatur. Daemonium meridianum est immane periculum feruore persecutionis accensum, ubi ruina plerumque metuitur, quando infirmitas humana superatur." Corpus Christianorum, 98: 31-32 [PL 70, 652]. (Ancient Christian Writers, 52: 382.) 55. St. Augustine's two homilies on Psalm 90 (91) are edited in Sancti Aurelii Augustini: Enarrationes in Psalmos LI-C, Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina, 39 (Turnhout: Brepols, 1956), 1254-78, esp. 1258-61. (An earlier edition in Migne, Patrologia Latina, Vol. 37, cols. 1149?-70.) There is an incomplete English translation in A Select Library of Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Vol. 8: Saint Augustin: Expositions on the Book of Psalms, ed. P. Schaff (1888?; rpt. Grand Rapids: Wm. B. Eerdmans, 1956), 446-52, esp. 447-48. 56. St. Jerome's two homilies on Psalm 90 (91) are edited in S. Hieronymi Presbyteri Opera. Pars H: Opera Homiletica, Corpus Christianorum, Series Latina 78 (Turnhout: Brepols, A Dialogue of Comfort / 266 1958), 127-133, 420-24. (An earlier edition in Migne, Patrologia Latina, Vol. 26.) The first (Homily #20) is translated in The Homilies of Saint Jerome. Volume 1 (1-59 On The Psalms), trans., M. L. Ewald, The Fathers of The Church, 48 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America P, 1964), 156-63; and the second (Homily #68) in The Homilies of Saint Jerome. Volume 2 (Homilies 60-96), trans., M. L. Ewald, The Fathers of The Church, 52 (Washington, DC: Catholic University of America P, 1965), 82-87. 57. "Non timebis a timore nocturno. Quod dicit, hoc est: Licet in terrore fueris, quae nox est, tamen non timebis, quia habes scutum ueritatis." Corpus Christianorum, 78: 129/63-66. (Fathers of the Church, 48: 158.) 58. "A sagitta uolante per diem?... Doctrina haereticorum est: quae quasi per diem, hoc est, legem Dei hue illucque uolitat, dum aduersus nos sollicite inquisita congerunt testimonia, quae interpretationibus suis a ueritate deprauant. Et a negotio perambulante in tenebris. Non dixit, stante, sed perambulante: quia haeretici numquam in sententiis stabiles sunt, sed semper mutantur atque perambulant. Ab incursu et daemonio meridiano.... Ergo quomodo sancti habent meridiem et lucem ubi pascant et recubent, ita et diabolus transfiguratus in angelum lucis habet ministros suos transfiguratos, uelut ministros iustitiae.... Simplices autem putant esse quendam daemonem meridianum, qui meridie magis homines possit incurrere. Nos autem haereticorum principes interpretabimur daemones meridianos, qui simulantes angelos lucis, dogmata predicant tenebrarum." Corpus Christianorum, 78: 421-422/51-59, 61-64, 68-72. (Fathers of the Church, 52: 84-85.) For a discussion of the parallel treatment of these verses in Homily #20, see Arbesmann, "The Daemonium Meridianum," 24-27 (cf. n.34). 59. "Vt intellegatis psalmum, quia daemonium meridianum propter aestum uehementis persecutionis positum est." Corpus Christianorum, 39: 1260/17-19. (Nicene Fathers, 11: 448.) For a discussion of St. Augustine's treatment of the "noonday devil" in Psalm 90, see Arbesmann, "The Daemonium Meridianum," 20-23. 60. "Ergo, quicumque se confessus fuerit christianum, feriatur; quomodo sagitta uolans per diem fuit. Nondum erat daemonium meridianum, flagrans uehementi persecutione, et faciens magnos aestus etiam fortibus." Corpus Christianorum, 39: 1260/37-40. (Nicene Fathers, 11: 448.) 61. "Coepit feruere sol, coepit feruere aestus. Audite enim quid iusserint; quomodo antea iusserant: Quicumque confessus se fuerit christianum, feriatur, iusserunt postea: Quicumque confessus se fuerit christianum, torqueatur, et tamdiu torqueatur, donee neget se esse christianum.... Multi ergo non negantes, in tormentis deficiebant; tamdiu enim torquebantur, donec negarent. Perseuerantibus autem in non negando Christum, quid facturus erat gladius, uno ictu occidendo corpus, animam ad Deum mittendo? Hoc faciebant et diuturna tormenta; sed quis tandem inueniretur qui duraret aduersus tantos et tam longos cruciatus? Multi defecerunt; et, credo, illi defecerunt qui de se praesumserunt, qui non habitabant in adiutorio Altissimi, et in protectione Dei caeli qui non dixerunt Domino; Susceptor meus es; qui non sub umbra alarum eius sperauerunt, sed uiribus suis multum dederunt. Deiecti sunt a Deo, ut ostenderet illis quia ipse protegit, ipse temperat tentationes, ipse tantum uenire permittit, quantum potest ferre cui uenit." Corpus Christianorum, 39: 1261/46-50, 56-69. (Nicene Fathers, 11: 448.) 62. Arbesmann, "The Daemonium Meridianum," 23. 63. See the section on Wit and Humour in the Bibliographical Appendix for studies of More's use of "merry tales." 64. For the context of this animal fable, see L. L. Martz, "The Art of Improvisation," CW 12, lx-lxv; rev. vers. in Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man, 57-64. 65. See W. M. Gordon, "Suicide in Thomas More's Dialogue of Comfort," American A Dialogue of Comfort / 267 Benedictine Review 29 (1978): 358-70; and P. D. Green, "Suicide, Martyrdom, and Thomas More," SRen 19 (1972): 135-55. 66. "senem videlicet Heronem ante paucos admodum dies illusione diabolica a summis ad ima dejectum, quem quinquaginta annis in hac eremo commoratum, singulari districtione rigorem continentiae tenuisse meminimus, et solitudinis secreta ultra omnes hic commorantes miro fervore sectatum. Hic igitur, quo pacto, quave ratione post tantos labores ab insidiatore delusus,...? Nonne quia minus discretionis virtute possessa, suis definitionibus regi, quam consiliis vel collationibus fratrum, atque institutis majorum, maluit obedire?... Qua praesumptione deceptus, angelum Satanae velut angelum lucis cum summa veneratione suscipiens, ejusque praeceptis prono obediens famulatu, semetipsum in puteum,... De quo, ingenti fratrum labore cum pene jam exsanguis fuisset extractus, vitam die tertia finiturus, quod his deterius est, ita in deceptionis suae obstinatione permansit, ut ei ne experimento quidem mortis suae potuerit persuaderi, quod fuisset daemonum calliditate delusus.... ab his qui ejus compatiebantur exitio, vix a presbytero abbate Paphnutio potuit obtineri, ut non inter biothanatos reputatus, etiam memoria et oblatione pausantium judicaretur indignus." PL 49, 529-31. (John Cassian: Conferences, trans. C. Luibheid, intro. 0. Chadwick (New York: Paulist Press, 1985), 64-65.) See also CW 12, 387, note to 129/9-25. 67. See CW 4, 186/5-22. Besides the articles noted in n.65, see also S. El-Gabalawy, "The Ars Moriendi in More's Utopia," Mosaic 11:4 (1978): 115-26; C. E. Maxcey, "Justice and Order: Martin Luther and Thomas More on the Death Penalty and Retribution," Moreana 79/80 (1983): 17-33; A. B. Samaan, "Death and the Death-Penalty in More's Utopia and Some Utopian Novels." Moreana 90 (1986): 5-15. 68. Analogous in structure to the 'Cardinal Morton Episode' in Book I of Utopia, and to the 'Examination of the Lutheran Preacher,' in Book IV, Chapter 11 of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies. 69. This passage (CW 12, 179/30-180/28) was cited by H. W. Donner, Introduction to Utopia (London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1945), 66, as "a most emphatic contradiction of the very principle of communism." Paul Turner (who quotes Donner) denies this in Utopia (London: Harmondsworth, 1965), 150-51, and goes on to argue that More never repudiated the communism of Utopia, and that Anthony and Vincent are treating poverty here as a moral and religious problem. I am not convinced by Turner's argument. The Island of Utopia was a `thought experiment.' More would never have thought of taking it as a program for action. However, all throughout his life (both in his writings and in his personal life) More stressed the responsibility of the rich to care for the poor, especially through giving alms. 70. For Aristotle's views as reinterpreted by Aquinas, see CW 6, 745-46. 71. Cf. Utopia, "Vndique ad superos tantundem esse uiae [From all places it is the same distance to heaven]" (CW 4, 50/12). 72. EW 1557, sig. fg2 v. See also E. McCutcheon, "'This Prison of the Yerth': The Topos of Immurement in the Writings of St. Thomas More," Cithara 25:1 (1985): 37-46; an earlier version in Thomas-Morus-Jahrbuch 1984/85, ed. H. Boventer (Dusseldorf: Triltsch, 1985), 127-32. CONCLUSION In every age there have been certain individuals, like Thomas More, who have stood out because they made some special, even unique contribution to the development of human culture. In doing so they embodied all that was best in the culture and values of the society of their time. When we pick up their writings, we find ourselves entering into dialogue not only with an individual author, but also with a whole society. However, such a dialogue only becomes possible if we respect the otherness of the individual author. This is especially the case when we have to deal with an author like Thomas More who was a man of many masks, of many roles, of many personae. And yet, paradoxically, behind these many masks `More the Man' remains tremendously slippery and elusive, and difficult to pin down. In this study I have been very careful to avoid falling into the 'biographical fallacy' by making crude and simplistic onesided comments, either of a hagiographical or a debunking nature, about the character of the author. Such judgements always to my mind reflect a rather one-dimensional view both of the man and of his age. In this study I have not been concerned with the enormous literature on More's biography or on his famous martyrdom. My concern has rather been with trying to understand Thomas More's principal literary works rather than dealing directly with the man himself. The work of the literary scholar or historian is a job of reconstruction. The past always comes down to us in fragmentary form. Many of the most important of these fragments take the form of literary texts. But even where the literary text comes down to us more or less intact, as when in the ideal case we have the author's autograph manuscript, it comes down to us almost always shorn of its literary, historical, and cultural contexts. The first task, naturally. should be to edit the texts themselves. Though scholarly editors must have some awareness of the original historical and cultural context in order to carry out their work at all, inevitably the main focus of their scholarly endeavours must be on establishing 268 / 26 9 the text itself. Only when the critical text has more or less stabilized and modern scholars have come to some kind of collective agreement that the modern critical edition represents the best possible reconstruction of the literary archetype from which all surviving manuscripts and/or printed editions are descended, can we then go on with any reliability to the next step of trying to 'interpret' the text, and to reconstruct its original literary and cultural context. More scholarship has suffered seriously in the past precisely because of the lack of modern critical editions. So much nonsense has been written about More, especially the Utopia, precisely because so many critics, for example G. R. Elton, have not bothered to read More's texts carefully enough. Thanks to the monumental labours of the editors of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More this situation has finally begun to change. However, since the work of preparing critical editions of major authors, such as the Yale Edition of More's works, usually spans the lives of at least one generation of scholarly editors and sometimes two, almost inevitably the burden of reconstructing the literary context falls on the shoulders of a new, younger generation of scholars. Theirs is the job of mining the rich mother lode that has been laid bare by the tunneling or excavating of their scholarly predecessors in the field. And while theirs may seem to be an enviable situation, their . work is not necessarily any easier than that of the textual editors since the past, like the unconscious, never yields up its treasures easily. The first job of the literary scholar or historian, after the actual editing of the text, must be to reconstruct as far as possible the original context of the literary work, and the `meaning' it had for its contemporary readers. But before we can even do this it is necessary to effectively analyse the contents and structure, genres and literary forms of the works in question. One must learn to crawl before one walks, and one must learn to walk before one runs. First, it is necessary to read the texts carefully and critically, and only then can one / 270 begin to interpret the 'meaning and significance they had for their contemporary readers. And only when one has done an adequate job of reconstructing the original historical and cultural context, can one meaningfully talk about the supposed relevance or irrelevance for modern readers. In this thesis, I have been concerned primarily with the first stage, with learning to read the texts carefully and critically. In each case I have provided a description of basic the structure of the work, together with an analysis of the text. In my chapter on the History of Richard III, I have shown that, despite first appearances to the contrary, the work has a very clear and definite structure that can be broken down into eight or nine major sections (including the 'Continuation' of the English version). In my analysis of the text, I focussed mainly on the passages of direct and indirect speech to show how they contributed to the literary artistry of the work as a whole, and I also showed how the major rhetorical and dialectical movements between the various speakers and audiences, and between the various pairs of protagonists and antagonists, anticipate the dialectical movements of the three later, formal literary dialogues under consideration, where, however, the rhetorical and dialectical exchange is sustained in each case throughout by a single pair of speakers, instead of by a succession of such pairs. In my chapter on Utopia, after outlining the multi-layered structure of the work following Hexter (parerga, 'Dialogue of Counsel,' `Discourse on Utopia,' peroration), I focussed on the 'Dialogue of Counsel' in Book I and the concluding peroration of Book II, showing how they provide a contextual frame for the 'Discourse on Utopia' in Book II. I also discussed in some detail the 'Cardinal Morton Episode,' the dialogue-within-a-dialogue within the 'Dialogue of Counsel.' In my analysis of the text of Book I of Utopia, I distinguished four 'Mores': 'Persona More.' the speaker in the dialogue of Book I, 'Narrator More,' the voice that speaks at the beginning of Book I, 'Author More,' the semi-fictional voice of the prefatory letter to Giles (and the subject of discussion in the rest of the parerga), 271 and 'More,' the author of the work, Sir Thomas More. After briefly discussing the significance of the prefatory letters, I analysed the structure of Book I, and elucidated the function of the 'Dialogue of Counsel,' paying especially close attention to the opening of Book I (and the conclusion of Book II), and showing how the rapid movement from one level of narrative or discourse to another, causes special problems in interpreting Book I of Utopia. In my two chapters on the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, the longest of the four works under consideration, I have shown that the work can be divided into two major parts: Books I and II (Heresies A), and Books III and IV (Heresies B). The focus of Heresies A is on defending the whole system of traditional Catholic beliefs surrounding the relationship between saints, miracles, images, and pilgrimages (Heresies A i ), and also on reiterating the orthodox Catholic teaching that the Oral Tradition of the Church is as necessary as and as much a part of divine revelation as the written Scriptures (Heresies A 2); while the focus of Heresies B is to show that the revolutionary changes advocated by the early English Protestants. In my discussion of Heresies B, I have especially singled out More's criticism of Tyndale's translation of the New Testament in Book 111:8-16, and his analysis of the Lutheran doctrines of Predestination and Justification in the "Examination of the Lutheran Preacher" in Book IV:10-12. I have further shown how the first half of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, Books I and II (Heresies A), has a structure that is in many ways analogous to the first part, the parerga and Book I, of Utopia: how the elaborate introduction (Preface—Book 1:2) shows striking parallels to the elaborate parerga of the Utopia, and how the "chiasmic" four-part structure of Books I and II, where Heresies A l (Book 1:3-17 and Book 11:8-12), provides a container or envelope for Heresies A 2 (Books 1:18-2:7), is also analogous to the way in which the 'Dialogue of Counsel' frames the dialogue-within-a- dialogue of the 'Cardinal Morton Episode' in Book 1 of Utopia. In my chapter on the Dialogue of Comfort, I have shown that, alongside the three book / 272 structure, there is another parallel structure consisting of a more or less traditional "book" of comfort and consolation (Comfort A: Book I:1-II:8), followed by an extended meditation on the four temptations of Psalm 90 (91): 5-6 (Comfort B: Books II: 9411: 27). Following Martz and Manley, I showed how the four temptations of Psalm 90: 5-6 provide an architectural framework for Comfort B: how the first three temptations of Psalm 90: 5-6 ("the night's fear," "the arrow flying in the day" and "the business walking in the darkness") provide the framework for much of Book II; while the fourth temptation, "the noonday devil," persecution for the faith and the threat of martyrdom, takes up all of Book III. I have further shown that the comfort that More, the author, offers the reader is hard won, that More makes the careful and attentive reader look into his own heart first and confronts him with the 'Abyss,' before offering him any comfort, and that this comfort paradoxically is achieved through facing the 'inner darkness,' the terrors that fly by night of Psalm 90, as well as the dangers of external persecution, the 'noon-day devil.' Lastly, I have made an important contribution to More scholarship in the form of the Topical Analytical Bibliography in the Appendix, which not only shows the sometimes giant gaps in past scholarship, but also points the way (through the careful and considered choice of bibliographical topics) to areas of scholarship that need further research, and will also, I hope, in the future provide a valuable tool for scholars in the field. APPENDIX: THOMAS MORE BIBLIOGRAPHY 273 APPENDIX: THOMAS MORE BIBLIOGRAPHY The Bibliography is organised into two major sections: A. Studies of More's Works and B. General Background Studies and Biographies. For each of More's works in Section A, and for the early biographies and the plays in Section B, the bibliography is further divided into two or more sections: Editions and Translations (and Selections where appropriate) where the various volumes of the Yale Edition and other editions and translations are cited, and Studies, which lists secondary studies of the individual works. For some of the works, such as Utopia and the History of Richard III, the studies are divided into subtopics (about fifty in the case of Utopia). The bibliography was compiled from direct searches of selected journals, including the journal of More studies, Moreana (1963-), tracing citations in the footnotes of articles, serendipitous browsing in library stacks, and, of course, other bibliographies. I have occasionally consulted F. Sullivan's 1946 checklist Moreana, 1478-1945 (see item 15 in the Bibliography). I have also made use of the two "Recent Studies on More," by Judith Jones and A. J. Geritz, in English Literary Renaissance (items 6 and 8). However, I was unable to consult F. and M. P. Sullivan's Moreana: Materials for the Study of St. Thomas More (1964-71) (item 16). Besides containing almost two thousand citations, the bibliography also includes three to four hundred reviews and a similar number of summaries and abstracts in the annotations to the citations. I have also sometimes added annotations of my own. The bibliography included in this appendix contains only a third of the total bibliography (about five to six thousand items) on More, Erasmus, the Northern Renaissance, and the early English Renaissance and Reformation (to 1580), that I have accumulated over the last five years. While I hope to publish at least part of this bibliography in print, my plan, if I can get funding from the appropriate granting bodies (SSHRC or NEH), would be to make the bibliographies available electronically either via INTERNET or CD-ROM. The electronic versions of the bibliographies would include, where possible, either summaries and/or extracts from reviews, or at least brief annotations. I wish to express in a special way my gratitude for the patient and very professional help I have recieved from the Inter-Library Loan and Circulation divisions of the UBC Library in compiling this bibliography. 274 Thomas More Bibliography / 275 TABLE OF CONTENTS FOR MORE BIBLIOGRAPHY Introduction^ p. 274 Table of Contents for More Bibliography^ p. 275 Table of Abbreviations^ p. 279 A: STUDIES OF MORE'S WORKS:^Item no. 1. Opera Omnia General Editions of Thomas More's Works^ 1 Some Bibliographies^ 5 2. Early Works General Studies^ 19 English Poems^ 22 The Life of Pico^ 52 The Four Last Things^ 76 Latin Epigrams^ 87 Reprints, Translations, and Adaptations of More's Latin Epigrams in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries^ 133 More's Translations of Lucian^ 148 The History of Richard HIIHistoria Ricardi Tertii: Editions and Translations^ 154 Textual History and Authorship^ 167 Literary and Historical Studies^ 173 The Deformity of Richard III^ 215 Shore's Wife and Later Influence^ 218 Cornwallis, Buck and Walpole^ 228 Literary Letters^ 234 In Defence of Humanism and Poetry: Letters to Dorp, Lee, Batmanson, Oxford and Germain de Brie^ 259 3. Utopia a. Editions and Translations: Editions^ 278 Reviews of the Yale Edition of Utopia^ 285 Concordances, Indices, etc.^ 299 Bibliographies^ 306 Ralph Robynson's English Translation (1551) ^ 311 Modern English Translations^ 330 French Translations^ 345 Other Translations^ 347 b. Studies of Utopia: General Studies^ 351 Dialogue, Drama, Satire, Literary and Rhetorical Techniques—Unsorted^ 376 Philosophy, Humanism and Theology—Unsorted^ 393 More's Utopian Embassy of 1515 and the Composition of Utopia^ 408 Prefatory Letters and Parerga^ 411 Book I: Europe, the 'Dialogue of Counsel,' and Reform^ 426 Raphael Hythloday^ 446 The Conclusion of Utopia^ 458 Thomas More Bibliography / 276 c. Literary Studies: Dialogue, Dialectic and Drama^ 462 Rhetoric, Fiction and Poetics ^ 469 Irony, Paradox, Humour and Satire^ 476 Latin Style^ 486 Names in Utopia and the Utopian Language^ 492 Utopian Chickens, Gold and Chamber Pots ^ 499 d. Geography in Utopia: Arcadia, Enclosed Gardens, Cities, and Nature^ 506 Geography and Maps^ 514 e. Philosophy and Religion: Pleasure and Moral Philosophy^ 528 War and Peace in Utopia^ 536 Social and Political Philosophy^ 543 Religion and Theology^ 572 Suicide and Death^ 578 f. Classical and Medieval Sources and Analogues: Athens and Sparta^ 584 Aristotle, Augustine, and Cicero^ 586 Homer, Herodotus, Thucydides, and Tacitus^ 592 Utopia and Lucian^ 596 Utopia and Plato^ 599 g. Utopia Through the Ages: More, Bacon and Campanella^ 619 More, Castiglione and Sidney^ 626 More and Erasmus^ 629 More, Machiavelli and Seyssel^ 637 Elyot, Milton, Shakespeare, and Webster^ 648 More and Rabelais^ 656 More and Swift^ 659 More and Vives^ 666 Utopia, Spain, New Spain and America^ 667 Utopia in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries^ 695 Utopia in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries ^ 701 Utopia and Some Modern Utopian Novels^ 705 h. Marxism and Literary Theory: Socialist and Marxist Interpretations^ 709 More: Utopia, and Literary Theory^ 715 Unpublished Dissertations^ 726 Unclassified Articles in German on Utopia^ 729 4. Polemical Works General Studies^ 737 Responsio ad Lutherum^ 773 Letter to Bugenhagen^ 782 More vs. Tyndale (1528-1533)^ 787 Dialogue Concerning Heresies ^ 801 The Supplication of Souls^ 839 Confutation of Tyndale's Answer^ 852 Letter to Frith^ 862 The Apology of Sir Thomas More Knight^ 868 Debellation of Salem and Bizance^ 879 Answer to a Poisoned Book^ 882 Thomas More Bibliography / 277 5. The Tower Works General Studies^ 887 The Dialogue of Comfort^ 894 A Treatise on the Passion and Treatise on the Blessed Body^ 950 De Tristitia^ 957 Prison Letters and Prayers^ 975 Collections of Extracts from More's Works^ 1010 B: GENERAL BACKGROUND STUDIES AND BIOGRAPHIES: 1. Public Life The Young More (1477/78-1515)^ 1019 Law and Politics (excluding More's Trial)^ 1024 More and the Law: Essays, Appreciations and Public Addresses^ 1072 On More's Name, Coat of Arms, etc.^ 1087 More's Signatures, Seals and Official Documents^ 1092 More's Diplomatic Missions^ 1094 More's Epitaph^ 1097 More's Trial, Imprisonment, Execution, and Martyrdom^ 1100 More's Head and Burial^ 1141 2. Literary Studies, Humanism and Theology General Studies of More's Works^ 1145 English Language and Prose Style^ 1161 More and Chaucer^ 1175 Literary Dialogue^ 1177 Conscience^ 1185 Ecclesiology: More and the Church^ 1192 More and the Church Fathers^ 1200 Spirituality^ 1211 Thomas More and the Eucharist^ 1231 Thomas More and the Bible^ 1234 Thomas More as a Translator^ 1245 Humour and Wit^ 1249 More and Humanism^ 1261 Feminism and Education^ 1275 3. More's Early Biographers, Editors, and Iconographers General Studies^ 1288 Early Biographers: Erasmus^ 1295 William Roper^ 1304 Nicholas Harpsfield^ 1329 Thomas Stapleton^ 1339 Ro. Ba. [Robert Basset?]^ 1350 Cresacre More^ 1356 Ellis Heywood's II Moro^ 1359 Other Early Biographers and Recusant Reputation^ 1364 William Rastell's 1557 Edition and Other Early Editions^ 1369 Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics^ 1377 Thomas More Bibliography / 278 4. More's Family Margaret Roper^ 1405 John More^ 1423 Dame Alice More^ 1427 Mary Bassett^ 1439 More's Ancestry^ 1442 London, Bucklersberry, Chelsea and More's Manors^ 1447 More's Family, Friends and Descendants. Sixteenth Century^ 1458 Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries^ 1480 5. Poems, Novels and Plays about Thomas More Poems and Epigrams about More: Iohannes Secundus^ 1485 Jacobus Balde^ 1488 Poems and Epigrams from the 16th to the 19th Centuries^ 1492 Twentieth Century Poems^ 1499 Novels About Thomas More and His Family^ 1509 Thomas More and Drama: More and Early Tudor Drama^ 1514 Shakespeare and the Book of Sir Thomas Moore^ 1517 Robert Bolt's A Man For All Seasons: Play and Film^ 1605 Other Plays^ 1604 6. Modern Biographies, Essays and Addresses Modern Biographies^ 1635 Brief Biographies (Including Saints Lives)^ 1674 More: Essays and Addresses^ 1714 Biographers, Editors and Scholars^ 1719 More Scholars: Bibliographies^ 1737 Yearbooks, Festschriften, Article Collections, and Special Issues^ 1746 Reports on Conference Papers^ 1756 Surveys of Criticism^ 1761 Exhibitions and Libraries, etc^ 1764 7. Friends and Contemporaries of More More and Bude^ 1773 More and Erasmus^ 1778 More and Fisher^ 1785 More and Elyot^ 1794 More and Shakespeare^ 1796 Moreana in the Sixteenth, Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries^ 1798 More and France^ 1814 More and Italy^ 1816 More and Spain^ 1821 Unclassified Articles^ 1825 Thomas More Bibliography / 279 TABLE OF ABBREVIATIONS abr. Acta Conventus Neo- Latini Amstelodamensis abridged Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Amstelodamensis: Proceedings of the Second International Congress of Neo-Latin Studies, Amsterdam 19-24 August 1973. Ed. P. Tuynman, G. G. Kuiper and E. Keller. Humanistische Bibliothek. Reihe I: Abhandlungen: Bd. 26. Munchen: W. Fink, 1979. Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Bononiensis: Proceedings of the Fourth Inter- national Congress of Neo-Latin Studies: Bologna, 26 August to 1 September 1979. Ed. R. J. Schoeck. Binghamton, NY: MRTS 37, 1985. Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Guelpherbytani: Proceedings of the Sixth Inter- national Congress of Neo-Latin Studies: Wolfenbuttel, 12 August to 16 August 1985. Ed. S. P. Revard, F. Radle and M. A. Di Cesare. Binghamton, NY: MRTS 53, 1988. Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Lovaniensis: Proceedings of the First Inter- national Congress of Neo-Latin Studies, Louvain 23-28 August 1971. Ed. J. IJsewijn and E. Kessler. Humanistische Bibliothek. Reihe I: Abhand- lungen: 20. Miinchen: W. Fink; Leuven/Louvain: Leuven UP, 1973. Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Sanctandreani. Proceedings of the Fifth Inter- national Congress of Neo-Latin Studies: St. Andrews, 24 August to 1 September 1982. Ed. I. D. McFarlane. Binghamton, NY: MRTS 38, 1986. Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Torontonensis. Proceedings of the Seventh Inter- national Congress of Neo-Latin Studies: Toronto, 8 August to 13 August 1988. Ed. A. Dalzell, C. Fantazzi, R. J. Schoeck. Binghamton, NY: MRTS 86, 1991. Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Turonensis: Proceedings of the Third Inter- national Congress of Neo-Latin Studies, Tours 6-10 September 1976. Ed. J.-C. Margolin. De Petrarque a Descartes, 38. 2 vols. Paris: J. Vrin, 1980. Actes du Congres Erasme: organise par la Municipalite de Rotterdam sou les auspices de l'Academies Royale Neerlandaise des Sciences et Sciences Humaines. Rotterdam 27-29 octobre 1969. Amsterdam-London: North-Holland Publishing Co., 1971. Actes de colloque international Erasme (Tours, 1986). Ed. J. Chomarat, A. Godin and J.-C. Margolin. Travaux d'Humanisme et Renaissance 239. Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1990. Abstracts of English Studies Opus epistolarum Des. Erasmi Roterodami. Ed. P. S. Allen et al. Oxford: 1906-58. American Historical Review Albion: A Quarterly Journal Concerned with British Studies annotated Anglia: Zeitschrift far Englische Philologie Annals of Scholarship: Metastudies in the Humanities and Social Sciences American Notes and Queries (1962-1986) ANQ: A Quarterly Journal of Short Articles, Notes, and Reviews (ns 1 = 1988) (Formerly American Notes and Queries) Archaeologia or Miscellaneous Tracts Relating to Antiquity Published by the Society of Antiquaries of London (1773-Present) Archie fur das Studium der neueren Sprachen and Literaturen Archiv fur Reformationsgeschichte Opera omnia Desiderii Erasmi Roterodami. Amsterdam: 1969-. Anglican Theological Review Acta Conventus Neo- Latini Bononiensis Acta Conventus Neo- Latini Guelpherbytani Acta Conventus Neo- Latini Lovaniensis Acta Conventus Neo- Latini Sanctandreani Acta Conventus Neo- Latini Torontonensis Acta Conventus Neo- Latini Turonensis Actes du congres Erasme Actes de colloque Erasme (Tours, 1986) AES Allen AHR Albion an. Anglia Annals of Scholarship AN&Q ANQ Archaeologia Archiv ARG ASD ATR Thomas More Bibliography / 280 A UMLA AUSS BAGB Bataillon, Erasme et l'Espagne BHR BHS BIHR BJRL Boundary 2 BSHPF BZGA Cahiers Elisabethains Catholic Lawyer CCHA CHR Cithara CJ ClergyR Colloque erasmien de Liege Colloquium Erasmianum Colloquia Erasmiana Turonensia Comitatus Contemporaries of Erasmus Criticism CML CW CWE DA DAI DownsideR DQR DublinR ed., eds. EETS EETS es EHR A.U.M.L.A.: Journal of the Australasian Universities Modern Language Association Andrews University Seminary Studies Bulletin de lAssociation Guillaume Bude Erasme et l'Espagne: Recherches sur l'histoire spirituelle du XVIe siecle. 3rd edition, ed. C. Amiel. Travaux d'Humanisme et Renaissance 250. 3 vols. Geneva: Librairie Droz, 1991. Bibliotheque d'Humanisme et Renaissance (1941—) (Continues Humanisme et Renaissance, Vols. 1-7: 1934-40) Bulletin of Hispanic Studies Bulletin of the Institute of Historical Research Bulletin of the John Rylands University Library Boundary 2: A Journal of Post-Modern Literature and Culture Bulletin de la Societe de l'histoire du Protestantisme francais Basler Zeitschrift far Geschichte and Altertumskunde Cahiers Elisabethains: etudes sur la pre-renaissance et la renaissance anglaises The Catholic Lawyer [Patron: St. Thomas More] Reports of the Canadian Catholic Historical Association Catholic Historical Review Cithara: Essays in the Judaeo-Christian Tradition Classical Journal The Clergy Review Colloque erasmien de Liege: Commemoration du 450 e Anniversaire de la Mort d'Erasme. Ed. J.-P. Massaut. Bibliotheque de la Faculte de Philosophie et Lettres de l'Universite de Liege 247. Paris: Les Belles Lettres, 1987. Colloquium Erasmianum: Actes du Colloque International reuni a Mons du 26 au 29 octobre 1967 a l'occasion du cinquiême centenaire de la naissance d'Erasme. Mons: Centre Universitaire de l'Etat, 1968. Colloquia Erasmiana Turonensia. Douzieme Stage International d'Etudes Humanistes (Tours 1969). Ed. J. C. Margolin. De Petrarque a Des- cartes 24. 2 vols. Paris: J. Vrin; Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1972. Comitatus: A Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies (Previously Comitatus: A Journal of Medieval Literary Studies) Contemporaries of Erasmus: A Biographical Register of the Renaissance and Reformation. Ed. P. G. Bietenholz, and T. B. Beutscher. 3 vols. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1985-87. Criticism: A Quarterly for Literature and the Arts Classical and Modern Literature. The Complete Works of St. Thomas More Collected Works of Erasmus Dissertation Abstracts (Vols. 1-29: 1940(?)-1968). Dissertation Abstracts International (Continues Dissertation Abstracts. Vols. 30 (1969)—Present) Downside Review Dutch Quarterly Review of Anglo-American Letters Dublin Review [Wiseman Review] (1836-1969) edition; editor(s); edited by Early English Text Society Early English Text Society, extra series English Historical Review Thomas More Bibliography / 281 English Literary History English Language Notes English Literary Renaissance Elton, G. R. Studies in Tudor and Stuart Politics and Government. 4 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, Vols. 1-2: 1974; Vol. 3: 1983; Vol. 4: 1992. English: The Magazine of the English Association English Studies: A Journal of English Language and Literature EOS commentarii societatis philologae Polonorum (Warsaw). Erasmus in English (1970-1988) Erasmus of Rotterdam Society Yearbook Essays and Studies extra series Essays on the Works of Erasmus. Ed. R. L. DeMolen. New Haven: Yale UP, 1978. Essential Articles for the Study of Thomas More. Ed. R. S. Sylvester and G. Marc'hadour. Hamden, CT: Archon, 1977. Ephemerides theologicae Lovanienses Etudes: revue mensuelle. Fondee en 1856 par des Peres de la Compagnie de Jesus. The English Works of Sir Thomas More. Ed. W. E. Campbell, and A. W. Reed. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode; New York: Lincoln MacVeagh, The Dial Press, 1931.2 vols. ELH ELN ELR Elton, Tudor and Stuart Studies English English Studies EOS ErasmusE ERSY E&S es Essays on the Works of Erasmus Essential Articles ETL Etudes EW 1931 Futures ^ Futures: The Journal of Forecasting, Planning and Policy Gazette Thomas More See Moreana Harpsfield, Life of More The Life and Death of Sr Thomas Moore, knight, sometymes Lord high Chancellor of England. by Nicholas Harpsfield. Ed. E. L. Hitchcock. London: Oxford UP (BETS 186), 1932. HeythropJ ^ Heythrop Journal: A Quarterly Review of Philosophy and Theology HibbertJ ^ Hibbert Journal (1900-1966) History ^ History: Journal of The Historical Association HJ ^ The Historical Journal (Cambridge) HL ^ Humanistica lovaniensia HLQ ^ Huntington Library Quarterly HMPEC ^ Historical Magazine of the PE Church HTR ^ Harvard Theological Review Humanism, Reform and Humanism, Reform and the Reformation: The Career of Bishop John Fisher. the Reformation ^ Ed. B. Bradshaw and E. Duffy. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. Infotrac ^ Infotrac: Expanded Academic Index (1989-) Interpretations ^ Interpretations: Studies in Language and and Literature (Dept. of English, Memphis State U) intro.^ introduction; introduction by JBS ^ Journal of British Studies JEGP ^ Journal of English and Germanic Philology JHI ^ Journal of the History of Ideas JHP ^ Journal of the History of Philosophy JEH ^ Journal of Ecclesiastical History JMH ^ Journal of Modern History JMRS ^ Journal of Medieval and Renaissance Studies JRH ^ Journal of Religious History JTS ^ Journal of Theological Studies JWCI ^ Journal of the Warburg and Courtauld Institutes Thomas More Bibliography / 282 Latomus LB M&H Miscellanea Moreana MLN MLQ MLR Month Moreana MP MRTS N&Q NAK Norfolk Archaeology n.p. ns NYRB OS P P&P Parergon PBA PBSA PMLA PQ pref. Quaerendo Quincentennial Essays Renaissance Papers Renascence Ren&Ref RenN RenQ RenS RES rev. Latomus: revue d'etudes latines Erasmus opera omnia. Ed. Jean Leclerc. Leiden: 1703-6. Medievalia et Humanistica: Studies in Medieval & Renaissance Culture Miscellanea Moreana: Essays for Germain Marc'hadour (Moreana 100). Ed. C. M. Murphy, H. Gibaud and M. A. Di Cesare. Binghamton, NY: MRTS 61,1989. [Also referred to as Moreana 100.] Modern Language Notes Modern Language Quarterly Modern Language Review Month: The Month and Catholic Review Moreana: Bulletin Thomas More (1963-) (From 1979 also includes Gazette Thomas More/Thomas More Gazette) Angers: Editions Moreana, 1963-. [NB. Cited by issue number, not volume; Moreana 100 = Miscellanea Moreana] Modern Philology: A Journal Devoted to Research in Medieval and Modern Literature Medieval & Renaissance Texts & Studies. Binghamton, NY: Center for Medieval & Early Renaissance Studies, State University of New York at Binghamton. Notes and Queries [os 199 = ns 1 (1954)] Nederlands Archief voor Kerkgeschiedenis (Formerly Nederlandsch Archief vor Kerkgeschiedenis) Norfolk Archaeology: or Miscellaneous Tracts Relating to The Antiquities of the County of Norfolk Published by the Norfolk and Norwich Archae- ological Society. no place; no publisher new series New York Review of Books old series Press Past and Present Parergon: Bulletin for the Australian and New Zealand Association for Medieval and Renaissance Studies Proceedings of the British Academy Papers of the Bibliographical Society of America Publications of the Modern Language Association of America Philological Quarterly preface; preface by Quaerendo: A Quarterly Journal from the Low Countries Devoted to Manuscripts and Printed Books. Quincentennial Essays on St. Thomas More. Ed. M. J. Moore. Boone, NC: Albion, 1978. Also Pub. as Albion 10: Supp. (1978): 1-162. Renaissance Papers. Renaissance Meeting in the Southeastern States. Columbus, SC: 1954-. Renascence: Essays on Values in Literature Renaissance and Reformation/Renaissance et Reforme [os 13 = ns 1 (1977)] Renaissance News (1948-1966) Renaissance Quarterly (1966-) (Continues Renaissance News) Renaissance Studies (1987-) Review of English Studies review; revised Thomas More Bibliography / 283 Review^Review: University of Virginia, Charlottesville RHE^ Revue d'histoire eccasiastique Rhetorica^Rhetorica: A Journal of the History of Rhetoric. RLC^ Revue de litterature comparee Rogers^The Correspondence of Sir Thomas More. Ed. Elizabeth F. Rogers. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1947. rpt.^ reprinted SAC^ Studies in the Age of Chaucer: The Yearbook of the New Chaucer Society SB^ Studies in Bibliography SCH^ Studies in Church History (Oxford: Basil Blackwell) Scrinium Erasmianum Scrinium Erasmianum (Mélanges historiques publies... a l'occasion du V e Centenaire de la naissance dtrasrne). Leiden: Brill, 1969. SCJ^ Sixteenth Century Journal sec.^ section SEL^ Studies in English Literature: 1500-1900 SHR^ Scottish Historical Review ShS^ Shakespeare Studies SN^ Studia Neophilologica SLJ^ Scottish Literary Journal SP^ Studies in Philology SQ^ Shakespeare Quarterly SPCK^Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge Spiritual Life^Spiritual Life: A Quarterly of Contemporary Sporituality SRen^ Studies in the Renaissance (1954-74) SSL^ Studies in Scottish Literature SStud^Shakespeare Studies STC^ A Short-Title Catalogue of Books Printed in England, Scotland and Ireland and of English Books Printed Abroad 1475-1640. Rev. ed. W. A. Jackson, F. S. Ferguson and K. F. Pantzer. 3 vols. London: The Bibliographical Society, 1976, 1986. STS^ Scottish Text Society Studies^Studies: An Irish Review [Dublin] summ.^summary abstract TLS^ Times Literary Supplement Thomas More Gazette See Moreana Thomas Morus Jahrbuch Thomas Morus Jahrbuch. Dusseldorf: Triltsch Verlag, 1981—. Thought^Thought: A Review of Culture and Idea (1926-1992) TCBS^ Transactions of the Cambridge Bibliographical Society TLS^ [London] Times Literary Supplement trans.^translation; translator; translated by TRHS^ Transactions of the Royal Historical Society TSLL^ Texas Studies in Language and Literature U, UP^University, University Press UTQ^ University of Toronto Quarterly: A Canadian Journal of the Humanities UTSE^ University of Texas Studies in English (Superceded by Texas Studies in Language and Literature) Venerabile^The Venerabile: Magazine of the English College of Rome vers.^ version Viator^ Viator: Medieval and Renaissance Studies YES^ Yearbook of English Studies YLG^ Yale University Library Gazette Thomas More Bibliography / 284 A. STUDIES OF MORE'S WORKS A.1. OPERA OMNIA General Editions of Thomas More's Works [1] More, Thomas. The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP. 1963-. Cited as CW. CW 2, The History of King Richard III. Ed. R. S. Sylvester. CW 3, Part 1, Translations of Lucian. Ed. C. R. Thompson. CW 3, Part 2, The Latin Poems. Ed. C. H. Miller, L. Bradner, C. H. Lynch and R. P. Oliver. CW 4: Utopia. Ed. E. L. Surtz and J. H. Hexter. CW 5, Responsio ad Lutherum. Ed. J. M. Headley, trans. Sr. S. Mandeville. CW 6, A Dialogue Concerning Heresies. Ed. T. M. C. Lawler, G. Marc'hadour and R. C. Marius. CW 7, Letter to Bugenhagen, Supplication of Souls, Letter Against Frith. Ed. F. Manley, G. Marc'hadour, R. C. Marius and C. H. Miller. CW 8, The Confutation of Tyndale's Answer. Ed. L. A. Schuster, R. C. Marius, J. P. Lusardi and R. J. Schoeck. CW 9, The Apology. Ed. J. B. Trapp. CW 10, The Debellation of Salem and Bizance. Ed. J. Guy, R. Keen, C. H. Miller and R. McGugan. CW 11, The Answer to a Poisoned Book. Ed. S. M. Foley and C. H. Miller. CW 12, A Dialogue of Comfort. Ed. L. L. Martz and F. Manley. CW 13, Treatise on the Passion. Ed. G. Haupt. CW 14, De Tristitia Christi. Ed. C. H. Miller. CW 15, In Defence of Humanism. Ed. D. Kinney. [2] ^. The Workes of Sir Thomas More Knyght, sometyme Lord Chancellour of England, wrytten by him in the Englysh tonge. London: J. Cawood, J. Waly, A. R. Tottell, 1557. Rpt. with an intro. by K. J. Wilson. Scolar Press Facsimiles. 2 vols. London: Scolar P, 1978. [Rev.: B. Byron, Moreana 67/68 [Thomas More Gazette 2] (1980): 91-2. Cited as "EW" or "EW 1557."] [3] ^. The English Works of Sir Thomas More. Ed. W. E. Campbell and A. W. Reed. 2 vols. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode; New York: Lincoln MacVeagh, The Dial Press, 1931. Volume 1: Early Poems, Pico Della Mirandola, Richard III, The Four Last Things. Volume 2: The Dialogue Concerning Tyndale. [Rev.: H. S. Bennett, RES 8 (1932): 215-17; G. G. Coulton, MLR 27 (1932): 75-77; C. Smyth, Criterion 11 (1931): 152-55. Incomplete. Seven volumes were projected, but only two were actually published. Cited as "EW 1931."] [4] ^. Opera omnia latina. Frankfort and Leipzig: C. Gensch, 1689. Rpt. (Underanderter Nachdruck.) Frankfurt: Minerva, 1963. [Rev.: (Ger.) H. H. Herbrtiggen, Archiv 201 Bd., 116 Jg. (1964): 208-210. Facsimile reprint. See also Early Biographers: Thomas Stapleton.] Some Bibliographies [5] Beal, P., ed. "Sir Thomas More." Index of English Literary Manuscripts. Vol. I: 1450-1625. 5 vols. London: Mansell; New York: R. R. Bowker, 1980. 1/2: 347-54. [6] Geritz, A. J. "Recent Studies in More (1977-1990)." ELR 22 (1992): 112-40. [Continues earlier bibliography by J. P. Jones in ELR.] Thomas More Bibliography / 285 [7] Gibson, R. W. St. Thomas More: A Preliminary Bibliography of His Works and of Moreana to the Year 1750, With a Bibliography of Utopiana by R. W. Gibson and J. Max Patrick. New Haven: Yale UP, 1961. [Rev.: E. F. Rice, Jr., ARG 54 (1963): 276-77.] [8] Jones, J. P. "Recent Studies in More." ELR 9 (1979): 442-58. [Rev.: P. Delendick, Moreana 70 (1981): 99-100.] [9] Kohl, B. "Humanism in Great Britain." Renaissance Humanism, 1300-1550: A Bibliography of Materials in English. New York: Garland, 1985. 241-80. [Many citations for More.] [10] Miles, L. "A Dialogue of Comfort Bibliography: Materials for a Further Study of the Work." See Dialogue of Comfort. [11] ^. "Ricardiana in Moreana." See Richard III: Literary and Historical Studies. [12] Rousseau, M.-C., and P. Delendick. "Utopiana in Moreana." See Utopia: Bibliographies. [13] Smith, C. "Additional Locations for Thomas More's Utopia." See Utopia: Bibliographies. [14] ^. An Updating of R. W. Gibson's St. Thomas More: A Preliminary Bibliography. Sixteenth Century Bibliography 20. St. Louis: Center for Reformation Research, 1981. [15] ^. "Updating an updating." Moreana 97 (1988): 137-40. [16] Sullivan, F. Moreana, 1478-1945. Kansas City, Rockhurst College, 1946. [17] Sullivan, F., and M. P. Sullivan. Moreana: Materials for the Study of St. Thomas More. 7 vols. Los Angeles: Loyola UP, (Vols. 1-4 + Index) 1964-71, (Supp. I) 1977?, (Supp. II) 1985. [Rev.: R. A. Burke, Moreana 10 (1966): 81-82; J. Feeley, Moreana 5 (1965): 9-106; G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 9 (1966): 107-08 + 13 (1967): 86-88 + 23 (1969): 103-05 + 30 (1971): 71-73 + 61 (1979): 100 + 62 (1979): 145 + 67 (1980): 134-36 + 98/99 (1985): 133-138; E. E. Reynolds, ("Turning the Pages"), Moreana 51 (1976): 13-22.] [18] Zajac, H. "Thomas More in The Catholic Lawyer." Moreana 51 (1976): 81-82. A.2. EARLY WORKS General Studies [19] Doyle-Davidson, W. A. G. "The Earlier English Works of Sir Thomas More." English Studies 17 (1935): 49-70. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 356-74, 644-50. [On More's English poetry, the Life of Pico, Richard III, and the Four Last Things.] [20] Sylvester, R. S. "A Part of his Own: Thomas More's Literary Personality in His Early Works." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 29-42. [On More's poetry and his Life of Pico.] [21] "Thomas More's English Works." TLS 9 July 1931: 533-34, 564, 621, 633. English Poems Editions [22] Campbell, W. E., ed. "The Early Poems." in EW 1931. 1: 325-44. [Reproduces black letter text of 1557 edition, together with a modernized version.] Thomas More Bibliography / 286 [23] Dyboski, R., ed. "Fortune," and "The Lamentation of Queen Elizabeth." Songs, Carols, and Other Miscellaneous Poems From the Balliol MS 354, Richard Hille's Commonplace-Book. Early English Text Society, es 101. London: Kegan Paul, Trench, Triibner & Co., 1907. 72-80, 97-99, 181-85, 165. [Two of More's English poems common-placed by Richard Hill before 1536. In the "Appendix: A Chronicle," Richard Hill recorded More's death, p.165.] [24] Huth, H., and W. C. Hazlitt, eds. The Book of the Fayre Gentylwoman. Fugitive Poetical Tracts, First Series (1493-1600) 13. London: Privately Printed, 1875. [Edition of More's "Fortune Verses" from a copy in Lambeth Palace Library.] [25] O'Connell, J. R., ed. Lyra Martyrum. London: Burns & Oates, 1935. [Rev.: TLS 30 May 1935: 349. Reprints Campbell's edition.] [26] Sylvester, R. S., ed. "Sir Thomas More, 1477-1535." The Anchor Anthology of Sixteenth Century Verse. Garden City, NJ: Anchor Press (Doubleday), 1974. 105-28, 596-97. [Complete text of "A mery gest," "Pageant Verses," and "A Rueful Lamentacion."] [27] . "Selections from the English Poems." St. Thomas More: The History of King Richard III and Selections from the English and Latin Poems. Selected Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. 97-123. [Complete text of "A mery gest," "Pageant Verses," and "A Rueful Lamentacion," "Lewis the Lost Lover," and "Davey the Dicer."] [28] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "A Merry Jest: How a Sergaunt Wold Learn to Play the Friar." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 158-68. [Modern spelling version.] Selections [29] Chambers, E. K., ed. "Sir Thomas More." The Oxford Book of Sixteenth Century Verse. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1932. 15-17. ["A Rueful Lamentation," and "Lewis, the Lost Lover."] [30] Gardiner, H. The Faber Book of Religious Verse. London: Faber & Faber, 1972. [Rev.: Moreana 38 (1972): 110. Four stanzas from "The Twelve Properties or Conditions of a Lover," and two stanzas from "The Prayer of Pico."] [31] Hebel, J. W., and H. H. Hudson, eds. "Sir Thomas More." Poetry of the English Renaissance, 1509-1660. New York: Appleton-Century-Crofts, 1929. 9-10, 911. [Selections from "The Pageant Verses," "Lewys the Lost Louer," and "Davy the Dicer."] [32] Leslie, S., ed. "Blessed Thomas More (Martyred 1535)." An Anthology of Catholic Poets. London: Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1925. 153-54. [Modernized versions of two stanzas from "The Twelue Weapons of Spirituall Battayle," and "Lewys the Lost Louer."] [33] Williams, J., ed. English Renaissance Poetry: A Collection of Shorter Poems from Skelton to Jonson. Fayetteville, AR: U of Arkansas P, 2nd ed. 1990. 15-24. [Modernized versions of "Pageant Verses," "Thomas More to Them That Seek Fortune," excerpts from "The Twelve Weapons," and "The Twelve Properties."] Studies [34] Bowman, T. M. "A Complete Explication and Critical Analysis of the Ruful Lamentacion of the Deth of Quene Elizabeth, by Sir Thomas More." M. A. Diss. Catholic U of America, 1969. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 26 (1970): 93.] Thomas More Bibliography / 287 [35] Coogan, R. "Petrarch and More's Concept of Fortune." Italica 46 (1969): 167-75. [On More's verses on Fortune and Petrarch's De remediis utriusque fortunae.] [36] ^. "Petrarch and Thomas More." Moreana 21 (1969): 19-30. [37] Cousins, A. C. "St. Thomas More as English Poet." Thomas More: Essays on the Icon. Ed. D. Grace and B. Byron. Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1980. 43-52. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 119.] [38] Duffy, R. A. "Thomas More's 'Nine Pageants.'" Moreana 50 (1976): 15-32. [39] Edwards, A. S. G. "Middle English Pageant 'Picture?" N&Q ns 39 (1992): 25-26. [Summ.: Infotrac. A. S. G. Edwards argues that the word 'Pageant' in More's "Pageant Verses" could mean picture not tapestry.] [40] ^. "Robert Parkyn's Transcript of More's 'Prayer of Picus Marandula vnto God.'" See Life of Pico. [41] Herbruggen, H. S. "Sir Thomas Mores Fortuna-Verse: Ein Beitrag zur Liisung einiger Probleme." Lebende Antike: Symposium fur Rudolf Siihnel. Ed. H. Meller and H.-J. Zimmerman. n.p., 1967. 155-72. [42] Howarth, R. G. "Hopkins and Sir Thomas More." N&Q 192 (1947): 389 + 195 (1950): 438. [On a possible echo of More's english poetry.] [43] Khanna, L. C. "Images of Women in Thomas More's Poetry." See Latin Epigrams. [44] McCutcheon, E. "Number Symbolism in St. Thomas More's 'Pageant Verses.'" Moreana 70 (1981): 29-31. [45] Meulon, H. "Un poem inedit de Thomas More?" Moreana 23 (1969): 66-68. [46] Pollard, A. F. "The Lamentation of Queen Elizabeth." TLS 7 July 1932: 499. [Pollard identifies the figures mentioned in More's poem.] [47] Pyle, F. "Sir Thomas More's Verse Rhythms." TLS 30 Jan. 1937: 76. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 432-35. ["A Letter to the Editor."] [48] Reed, A. W. "Notes to the Collations: A Supplementary Note," and "Further Collations and Notes Thereon." EW 1931. 1: 223-27, 311-17, esp. 312. [Rpts. some additional verses to the Book of Fortune not found in the 1557 edition (pp. 223-27) and a latin epigram on the death of Queen Margaret, found in a manuscript after More's "Rueful Lamentation" (p.312).] [49] Tromly, F. B. "`A Rufull Lamentacion' of Elizabeth: Thomas More's Transformation of Didactic Lament." Moreana 53 (1977): 45-56. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 119.] [50] Willow, M. E. An Analysis of the English Poems of St. Thomas More. Bibliotheca Humanistica et Reformatorica 8. Nieuwkoop: B. De Graaf, 1974. [Rev.: Th. Bowman, Moreana 43/44 (1974): 101-03; R. Mohl, RenQ 28 (1975): 271-73.] [51] Zapatka, F. E. "Prose Apothegms into Rime Royal: Thomas More's Translation of Pico della Mirandola's 'Twelve Rules.'" See Life of Pico. See also Latin Epigrams, and Life of Pico. Thomas More Bibliography / 288 The Life of Pico Editions [52] Campbell, W. E., ed. "The Life of Pico, His Three Epistles and His Twelve Rules." in EW 1931. 1: 345-96. [Reproduces black letter text of 1557 edition, together with a modernized version.] [53] Kullnick, M., ed. "Th. Morus, Picus Erle of Mirandula." Archiv ns 121 (1908): 47-75, 316-40 + 122 (1909): 27-50. [Includes Pico's Latin text and More's English translation.] [54] More, Sir Thomas, trans. Here is conteyned the lyfe of Johan Picus Erle of Mirandula (written by his nephew, G. F. Pico). London: Wynkyn de Worde, (ca. 1525). Rpt. (The English Experience 884) Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1977. [55] Rigg, J. M., ed. Giovanni Pico della Mirandola: His Life by His Nephew Giovanni Francesco Pico ... Translated From the Latin by Sir Thomas More. London: David Nutt (Tudor Library), 1890. Selections [56] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. "The Life of John Picus, Earl of Mirandula." Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. 36-51. [Substantial excerpt.] [57] Nugent, E. M., ed. "Life of John Picus." The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 51-55. [58] Trapp, J. B., ed. "Sir Thomas More: Life of Pico." The Middle Ages through the Eighteenth Century. Vol. 1 of The Oxford Anthology of English Literature. Ed. J. Hollander and F. Kermode. 2 vols. London: Oxford UP, 1973. 569-70. Studies [59] Bowers, F. "Printing Evidence in Wynkyn de Worde's Edition of The Life of Johan Picus by St. Thomas More." PBSA 43 (1949): 398-99. [60] Coogan, R. "Petrarch and Thomas More." See English Poems. [61] Edwards, A. S. G. "Robert Parkyn's Transcript of More's 'Prayer of Picus Marandula vnto God.'" Moreana 101/102 (1990): 133-38. [Gives Parkyn's text with list of variants from printed editions.] [62] Esmonde, M. P. "'A Patterne of Life': A Critical Analysis of St. Thomas More's Life of John Picus." Diss. U of Miami, 1971. [63] Gabrieli, V. "Giovanni Pico and Thomas More." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 43-57. [64] Gilmore, M. P. "More's Translation of Gianfrancesco Pico's Biography." l'Opera e it pensiero di Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola nella storia dell'Umanismo. 2 vols. Florence: Institute nazionale di studi sul Rinascimento, 1965. 2: 301-04. [65] Jones, J. P. "Thy Grace to Set the World at Nought:' The Mystical Element in the Works of Thomas More." See Spirituality. [66] Lehmberg, S. E. "Sir Thomas More's Life of Pico Della Mirandola." SRen 3 (1956): 61-79. Thomas More Bibliography / 289 [67] Maskell, D. "Robert Gaguin and Thomas More, Translators of Pico della Mirandola." BHR 37 (1975): 63-68. [68] Parks, G. B. "Pico Della Mirandola in Tudor Translation." Philosophy and Humanism: Renaissance Essays in Honor of Paul Oscar Kristeller. Leiden: E. J. Brill; New York: Columbia UP, 1976. 352-69. [69] Rigg, J. M. "Introduction." Giovanni Pico della Mirandola: His Life by His Nephew Giovanni Francesco Pico. Translated by Sir Thomas More. London: David Nutt (Tudor Library), 1890. v-xl. [70] Schoeck, R. J. "Thomas More and the Italian Heritage of Early Tudor Humanism." Arts Liberaux et Philosophie au Moyen Age. Montreal: Institute d'etudes medievales; Paris: J. Vrin, 1969. 1191-97. [71] Schtitt, M. "Mores Pico della Mirandola." Die englische Biographik de Tudor-Zeit. Hamburg: Friederichsen, de Gruyter & Co., 1930. 35-37. [72] Stauffer, D. A. English Biography Before 1700. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1930. Rpt. New York: Russell & Russell, 1964. 35-37. [73] Valcke, L. "Jean Pic de la Mirandole lu par Thomas More." Miscellanea Moreana. 77-98. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 155, 249; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 120.] [74] Weiss, R. "Pico e l'Inghilterra." l'Opera e it pensiero di Giovanni Pico Della Mirandola nella storia dell'Umanismo. 2 vols. Florence: Instituto nazionale di studi sul Rinascimento, 1965. 1: 143-58. [75] Zapatka, F. E. "Prose Apothegms into Rime Royal: Thomas More's Translation of Pico della Mirandola's 'Twelve Rules.'" Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Guelpherbytani. 395-400. See also English Poems. The Four Last Things Editions and Selections [76] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. "Remember the Last Things." Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. 79-89. [Two extracts.] [77] Campbell, W. E., ed. "The Four Last Things." in EW 1931. 1: 457-99. [Rev.: H. S. Bennett, RES 8 (1932): 217; C. Smyth, Criterion 11 (1931): 153-55. Reproduces black letter text of 1557 edition, together with a modernized version.] [78] O'Connor, D., ed. The Four Last Things. London: Paternoster Books (Art and Book Co.), 1903. Rpt. London: Burns Oates and Washbourne, 1935. [Rev.: TLS 29 Aug. 1935: 539-40.] [79] Pegis, A., ed. "St. Thomas More: The Four Last Things, Death." The Wisdom of Catholicism. New York: Random House, 1949. 496-518. [Rpts. part of the EW 1931 edition.] Studies [80] Donner, H. W. "St. Thomas More's Treatise on the Four Last Things and the Gothicism of the Transalpine Renaissance." English Miscellany 3 (1952): 25-48. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 343-55, 640-44. Thomas More Bibliography / 290 [81] Doyle-Davidson, W. A. G. "The Earlier English Works of Sir Thomas More." See Early Works: General Studies. [82] Gabrieli, V. "Le Quattro cose ultime." La Cultura 10 (1972): 219-35. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 36 (1972): 116.] [83] Hamilton, R. "More's Philosophy of Death." Irish Ecclesiastical Record 17 (1941): 452-60. [On More's imaginative treatment of death in the Four Last Things.] [84] Jones, J. P. "'Thy Grace to Set the World at Nought:' The Mystical Element in the Works of Thomas More." Studia Mystica 3:2 (1980): 61-71. [85] McCutcheon, E. "'This Prison of the Yerth': The Topos of Immurement in the Writings of St. Thomas More." See Dialogue of Comfort. [86] Wilson, K. J. "More and Holbein: The Imagination of Death." See Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics. Latin Epigrams Editions [87] Bradner, L., and C. A. Lynch., eds. The Latin Epigrams of Thomas More. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1953. [Rev.: N&Q ns 1 (1954): 365; J. V. Landy, Thought 28 (1953): 468; J. A. Naiden, Classical Weekly 47 (1953/54): 12-13. Latin text and English translation. Cited as BL.] [88] Miller, C. H., L. Bradner, C. A. Lynch, and R. P. Oliver. eds. Latin Poems. Vol. 3, Part II of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1984. (Hereafter CW 3/2.) [Rev.: J. W. Binns, Moreana 86 (1985): 167-70; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 119; L. V. Ryan, RenQ 38 (1985): 743-46. Essentially a revision and augmentation of Bradner and Lynch's edition, with extensive notes and commentary added.] Modern Translations [89] Baumann, U., trans. Thomas Morus, Epigramme. Mtinchen: KOsel-Verlag, 1983. [Rev.: (Germ.) B. Kytzler, Moreana 86 (1985): 171.] [90] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "Latin Epigrams." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 119-37. [Verse translations of twelve of More's Latin epigrams.] [91] Lakowski, R. I., trans. "From The Epigrams of Sir Thomas More." The Eclectic Muse [Vancouver] 2:2 (Easter 1991): 20-22. [Verse translations of twelve of More's shorter Latin epigrams.] [92] Pape, I., trans. Thomas Morus (1478-1535), Epigramme. Intro. D. Lederer. Berlin: 1985. [Rev.: U. Baumann, Moreana 94 (1987): 51-52. German verse translation.] [93] Sylvester, R. S., ed. "Selections from the Latin Poems." St. Thomas More: The History of King Richard III and Selections from the English and Latin Poems. Selected Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. 125-62. [Prose translations of fourty-eight epigrams, reprinted from CW 3/2.] Thomas More Bibliography / 291 Studies [94] Baumann, U. Die Antike in den Epigrammen und Briefen Sir Thomas Mores. Beitrage zur englischen und amerikanischen Literatur 1. Paderborn: Schoningh, 1984. [Rev.: R. Keen, Moreana 86 (1985): 172-75; R. J. Schoeck, RenQ 38 (1985): 760-62.] [95] ^. "Thomas More and the Classical Tyrant." Moreana 86 (1985): 108-27. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 117.] [96] Bek, L. "Thomas More on the Double Portrait of Erasmus and Pierre Gillis: Humanist Rhetoric or Renaissance Art Theory?" See Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics. [97] Bradner, L. "More's Epigrams on Death." Moreana 50 (1976): 33-38. [98] ^. "The Humanists: Thomas More and His Contemporaries." Musae Anglicanae: A History of Anglo-Latin Poetry, 1500-1925. The Modern Language Association of America, General Series 10. New York: Modern Language Association of America; Oxford: Oxford UP, 1940. 14-19. [99] Bradner, L., and C. A. Lynch. "On St. Thomas More, an Epitaph of Uncertain Origin." RenN 15 (1962): 1-2. [100] Callahan, V. W. "Uses of the Planudean Anthology: Thomas More and Andrea Alciati." Acta Conuentus Neo-Latini Bononiensis. 399-412. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 117.] [101] Cameron, A. "Sir Thomas More and the Greek Anthology." Florilegium Columbianum: Essays in Honor of Paul Oskar Kristeller. Ed. K.-L. Selig and R. Somerville. New York: Italica P, 1987. 187-98. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 117. Rev.: C. H. Miller, ("More and MS Palatine 23 of the Greek Anthology,") Moreana 98/99 (1988): 263-64.] [102] Carlson, D. R. "Reputation and Duplicity: The Texts and Contexts of Thomas More's Epigram on Bernard Andre." ELH 58 (1991): 261-81. [103] Carpenter, N. C. "Note on Two Epigrams of More." Moreana 50 (1976): 11-12. [104] ^. "St. Thomas More and Music: The Epigrams." RenQ 30 (1977): 24-28. [105] ^. "Thomas More and Music: Stanyhurst's Translation of the Abyngdon Epitaph." Moreana 62 (1977): 63-68. [106] Doyle, C. C. "On the Neglected Sources of Some Epigrams by Thomas More." Moreana 46 (1975): 5-11. [107] ^. "The Background of More's Epigrams." Moreana 55/56 (1977): 61-64. [108] ^. "The Popular Aspect of Sir Thomas. More's Latin Epigrams." Southern Folklore Quarterly 37 (1973): 87-99. [On folklore motifs in More's epigrams and parallels in English jestbooks.] [109] Dust, P. "A Reference to More in Philemon Holland's Translation of Suetonius's Vitae Caesarum." Moreana 29 (1971): 17-21. [On the sources of the epigram Ad Sabinum (CW 3/2 #205) in Martial, and on an allusion to this epigram by Philemon Holland (1606).] Thomas More Bibliography / 292 [110] Fletcher, H. "The Earliest(?) Printing of Sir Thomas More's Two Epigrams to John Holt." Studies in Honor of T. W. Baldwin. Ed. D. W. Cameron. Urbana: U of Illinois P. 1958. 53-65. [111] Grace, D. "Subjects or Citizens? Populi and cives in More's Epigrammata." Moreana 97 (1988): 133-36. [112] ^. "Thomas More's Epigrammata: Political Theory, in a Poetic Idiom." Parergon ns 3 (1985): 115-29. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 120.] [113] Holahan, S. "More's Epigrams on Henry Abyngdon." Moreana 17 (1968): 21-26. [114] Hudson, H. H. "The Epigrams of Sir Thomas More." The Epigram in the English Renaissance. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1947. Rpt. New York: Octagon Books, 1966. 23-79. [Rev.: L. Bradner, MLN 63 (1948): 577-78.] [115] Hutton, J. "A Speculation on Two Passages in the Latin Poems of Thomas More." Essays on Renaissance Poetry. Ed. R. Guerlac. Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 1980. 330-38. [116] Khanna, L. C. "Images of Women in Thomas More's Poetry." Quincentennial Essays. 78-88. [A sensitive analysis of Latin three epigrams (CW 3/2 #265, #263, #143) and of the "Ruefull Lamentation.") [117] Kinney, D. "More's Epigram on Brixius' Plagiarism: One Poem or Two?" Moreana 70 (1981): 37-44. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 119-20.] [118] Klein, J. W. E. "New Light on the Gouda Erasmiana Manuscripts." Quaerendo 18 (1988): 90-91. [Includes a reproduction of 3 epigrams by More: CW 312 #145, #68 and #125.] [119] Mann, W. Lateinische Dichtung in England von Ausgang des Friihhumanismus bis zum Regierungsontritt Elizabeths. Halle: 1939. 22-78. [120] Marc'hadour, G. "Croisade triomphale de l'Angleterre." Moreana 35 (1972): 63-68. [The reactions of Skelton, More and Erasmus to the Battle of Flodden and the English campaigns in France in 1513.] [121] ^. "La poesie latine de Thomas Morus." Roczniki Humanistyczne [Lublin] 26:3 (1978): 35-43. [122] ^. "The Death-Year of Thomas More's Mother." Moreana 64 (1979): 13-16. [An epigram on the death of More's mother (1497?), not included in the Yale Edition.] [123] Marsden, J. Philomorus. London: Longman, Green, Reader, and Dyer, 1878. [124] Mason, H. A. "Bonae Literae and Belles-Lettres: The Relation of More to the Humanists." Humanism and Poetry in the Early Tudor Period. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1959. 27-58. [A study of More's epigrams.] [125] McCutcheon, E. "'This Prison of the Yerth': The Topos of Immurement in the Writings of St. Thomas More." See Dialogue of Comfort. [126] Miller, C. H., et al., eds. "Appendix E: Table of Corresponding Numbers: More's Latin Epigrams (1953), edited by L. Bradner and C. A. Lynch, and the Yale Edition." Latin Poems. Vol. 3, Part II of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1984. 745-54. Thomas More Bibliography / 293 [127] Nichols, F. J. "More and Martial." Moreana 86 (1985): 61-70. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 117.] [128] Perry, K. "Blind Saturn: The Astrological Epigrams as Records of More's Cultural Conservatism." Moreana 86 (1985): 44-60. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 120.] [129] "Qualis Uxor Deligenda." Moreana 26 (1970): 19-32. [Reprints Latin epigram (CW 3/2 #143) together with French (M. Ravaze) and English (L. Bradner) translations.] [130] Sabol, A. J. "An English Source for One of More's Latin Epigrams." MLN 63 (1948): 542. [On the English source of "In amicam foedifragam iocosum" (CW 3/2 #82).] [131] Telle, E. V. "De la ressemblance des enfants aux peres: Thomas More et l'embryologie." Moreana 18 (1968): 21-22. [On the epigram "To Sabinus," (CW 3/2 #205).] [132] Walter, R. "Epitre de Beatus Rhenanus dediant a Willibald Pirckheimer les Epigrammes de More." Moreana 95/96 (1987): 149-58. Reprints, Translations, and Adaptations of More's Epigrams in the Sexteenth and Seventeenth Centuries [133] Atkins, S. H. "Certain of Sir Thomas More's Epigrams Translated by Stanihurst." MLR 26 (1931): 338-40. [134] Blanchard, A. "Epigrammes de Thomas More dans une anthologie de 1539." Moreana 50 (1976): 66-72. [135] Dean, W. "Kendall's Translation of a Morean Epigram." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 139-45. [One of Kendall's translations of More's epigrams in Flowers of Epigrammes (1577), is actually by James Sanford (1569).] [136] Doyle, C. C. "J. V. Cunningham and More's Cuckolded Astrologer." Moreana 75/76 (1982): 35-37. [137] ^. "Appendix D: Reprints, Translations, and Adaptations of More's Latin Poems in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries." Latin Poems. Vol. 3, Part II of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. C. H. Miller et al. New Haven: Yale UP, 1984. 695-744. [A checklist.] [138] ^. "Moreana of the Late Seventeenth and Early Eighteenth Centuries." See Moreana in the Sixteenth, Seventeenth and Eighteenh Centuries. [139] ^. "Thomas More and the Epigrams of John Owen: A Reference and an Analog." Moreana 67/68 [Thomas More Gazette 2] (1980): 39-41. [140] ^. "Where I Have No Nose." Folklore Feminists' Communication [Texas] no. 15 (Spring 1978): 21-23. [141] Dust, P. "Thomas More's Influence on Erasmus' Epigram Against Julius II." Moreana 65/66 (1980): 99-106. [142] Graaf, B. de. "More's `Choriambicum de vita suavi' as a fill-up in a 16th-century Strasburg Schoolbook." Moreana 23 (1969): 53-55. [143] ^. "Thomas More in a German Best-Seller (1600-1643)." Moreana 45 (1975): 29-36. [144] Meijer, M. "Les aventures de deux epigrammes de Thomas More." Moreana 50 (1976): 5-10. Thomas More Bibliography / 294 [145] Schoeck, R. J. "Further Adventures of Two Epigrams of Thomas More: A 1573 Translation by Antoine du Verdier." Moreana (1982) 73: 67-68. [146] Smith, C. N. "George Hardinge's Imitation of More's Verse on Quentin Metsys' Double Portrait of Erasmus and Peter Giles." Moreana 77 (1983): 39-41. [147] Williams, F. B., Jr. "Garlic and Customs Officers." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 209-10. [On an English translation of CW 3/2 #254.] See also Poems and Epigrams about More. More's Translations of Lucian Editions [148] Thompson, C. R., ed. Translations of Lucian. Vol. 3, Part I of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1974. [Rev.: A. Jolidon, Moreana 43/44 (1974): 95-100; P. Turner, N&Q ns 23 (1976): 265-66.] Studies [149] Duncan, D. "More." Ben Jonson and the Lucianic Tradition. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1979. 52-76. [150] Jolidon, A. "Thomas More et Erasme Traducteurs du Tyrannicide' (1506)." Thomas More: 1477-1977, Colloque international tenu en novembre 1977. Ed. A. Gerlo. Actes de l'Institut pour l'Etude de la Renaissance 6. Brussels: Editions de l'Universite de Bruxelles, 1980. 39-89. [151] Reed, A. W., ed. "[From Necromantia, a dialog of the Poete Lucyan.]" in EW 1931. 1: 208-10. [Two excerpts from a fragmentary copy in the Bodleian of an English verse translation of More's Latin translation of Lucian (printed on facing pages) by John Rastell.] [152] Rummel, E. "A Friendly Competition: More's and Erasmus' Translations from Lucian." Erasmus as a Translator of the Classics. Erasmus Studies 7. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1985. 49-69, 147-53. [153] Thompson, C. R. The Translations of Lucian by Erasmus and St. Thomas More. Ithaca, NY: Vail-Ballou P, 1940. Also publ. in Revue Belge de philologie et d'histoire 18 (1939): 855-81 + 19 (1940): 5-35. See also Utopia: Utopia and Lucian. The History of Richard IH/Historia Ricardi Tertii Editions [154] Campbell, W. E., et al., eds. "Sir Thomas More's Richard III." in EW 1931. 1: 397-455. [Rev.: A. F. Pollard, History 17 (1933): 317-23. Original black letter text from 1557 edition, and a modernized spelling version in ordinary type.] [155] Creeth, E., ed. "The History of Richard the Thirde (unfinished)." Tudor Prose, 1513-1570. Garden City, NY: Anchor Books (Doubleday), 1969. 1-80, 471-74. [Text taken from 1557 edition.] Thomas More Bibliography / 295 [156] Kinney. D., ed. In Defence of Humanism: Letter to Martin Dorp, Letter to the University of Oxford, Letter to Edward Lee, Letter to a Monk, with a new text and Translation of Historia Richardi Tertii. Vol. 15 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1986. cxxxiii-cliv, 313-485, 605-31. (Hereafter CW 15.) [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 121. Rev.: See In Defence of Humanism and Poetry for reviews. A new edition of More's Latin version of Richard III, comes with a good modern English translation. It supercedes Sylvester's edition of the Latin text in CW 2.] [157] Sylvester, R. S., ed. The History of Richard III. Vol. 2 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1963. (Hereafter CW 2.) [Rev.: F. S. Fussner, AHR 69 (1964): 1112-13; D. Hay, RenN 17 (1965): 230-32; G. Marc'hadour, Anglia 86 (1968): 211-14; H. C. Porter, JTS 16 (1965): 253; R. W. Zandvoort, English Studies 47 (1966): 217-18; W. G. Zeeveld, Moreana 1 (1963): 64-69. See also A. E. Barker's "Clavis Moreana" in Reviews of the Yale Edition of Utopia. Standard edition of the English version. Sylvester's edition of the Latin version is superceded by CW 15.] Modern Spelling Versions and Translations [158] Campbell, W. E., et al., eds. "Sir Thomas More's Richard III." See Editions. [159] Gabrieli, V., ed. The History of King Richard III. By Thomas More, testo inglese e traduzione italiana, con introduzione e note. University di Turino, Pubblicazioni della Facoltâ di Magistero 27. Turin: Giappichelli, 1964. [Rev.: G. Bullough, Moreana 10 (1966): 74-76. English text and Italian translation. English text follows 1931 edition closely. Notes based on 1931 and Sylvester editions.] [160] Kendall, P. M., ed. Richard III, The Great Debate: Sir Thomas More's History of King Richard III and Horace Walpole's Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of King Richard III. New York: Norton, 1965. 23-112. [Modernized version of 1557? edition.] [161] Lumby, J. R., ed. History of Richard III. Pitt Press Series. London: Cambridge UP, 1883. Rpt. 1911, 1924. [Based on 1557 edition. Modern spelling?] [162] Sylvester, R. S., ed. The History of King Richard III and Selections from the English and Latin Poems. Selected Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. 1-96. [Modernized spelling version of the English text in CW 2.] Selections [163] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. "The History of King Richard the Third." Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. 52-78. [A substantial extract.] [164] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "The History of Richard III." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 169-96. [A substantial extract.] [165] Nugent, E. M., ed. "The History of King Richard the Third." The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 518-24. [166] Trapp, J. B., ed. "Sir Thomas More: The History of King Richard III." The Middle Ages through the Eighteenth Century. Vol. 1 of The Oxford Anthology of English Literature. Ed. J. Hollander and F. Kermode. 2 vols. London: Oxford UP, 1973. 571-75. Thomas More Bibliography / 296 Richard III: Textual History and Authorship [167] Chambers, R. W. "More's History of Richard III." MLR 23 (1928): 405-23. Rpt. with revisions as "The Authorship of the History of Richard III." in EW 1931. 1: 24-41. [Summ.: H. S. Bennett, RES 8 (1932): 216. Decisively vindicates More's authorship of the History.] [168] Doyle-Davidson, W. A. G. "The Textual Problems of the History of Richard III." in EW 1931. 1: 42-53. [Argues that More composed the Latin and English versions of Richard III in parallel—that neither is a straight copy of the other. A view accepted by the later Yale editors R. S. Sylvester and D. Kinney.] [169] Hanham, A. "Appendix: The Texts of More's History of King Richard the Third." Richard III and His Early Historians. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1975. 198-219. [Rev.: M. A. Anderegg, Moreana 57 (1978): 39-46. Hanham attempts to argue that Hardyng-Halle was a late authorial revision of More's English History. See Anderegg's review for a rebuttal.] [170] HUbschmann, 0. More's Geschichte Richard's III. (Leipzig Diss.) Halle: Ehrhardt Karras, 1910. Also? publ. as "Textkritische Untersuchungen zu More's Geschichte Richard's III." Anglia 33 (1910): 289-331, 405-39 + 34 (1911): 113-62. [See CW 2, xxi, n.3. On the textual problems in Richard III. Reprints Lumby's 1884 edition of the History in parallel columns with the 1689 edition of the Historia.] [171] Kinney, D. "Introduction: Historia Richardi Tertii." In Defence of Humanism: Letter to Martin Dorp, Letter to the University of Oxford, Letter to Edward Lee, Letter to a Monk, with a new text and Translation of Historia Richardi Tertii. Vol. 15 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. D. Kinney. New Haven: Yale UP, 1986. cxxxiii-cliv. [172] Sylvester, R. S. "Introduction," and "Appendix: Richard Grafton and the Manuscript of More's Early English Draft." The History of Richard III. Vol. 2 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1963. xvii-cvi, 271-76. Richard III: Literary and Historical Studies [173] Anderson, J. H. "More's Richard III: History and Biography." Biographical Truth: The Representation of Historical Persons in Tudor-Stuart Writing. New Haven: Yale UP, 1984. 75-109, 216-20. [Rev.: D. Woolf, Queen's Quarterly 94 (1987): 147-51.] [174] Candido, J. "Thomas More, The Tudor Chroniclers, and Shakepeare's Altered Richard." English Studies 68 (1987): 137-41. [On Richard's haste and restless energy in More's account. Suggests that the change in Richard's character in Shakespeare's play (after Act III), is due partly to a switch in underlying sources from More to Hall (following Polydore Vergil.)] [175] Chomarat, J. "More, Erasme et les historiens latins." Moreana 86 (1985): 71-107. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118.] [176] Churchill, G. B. Richard the Third up to Shakespeare. Palaestra X. Berlin: Mayer & Muller, 1900. Rpt. New York and London: 1970. Rpt. Dunsley, England: Sutton, 1976. [177] Davis, J. C. "More, Morton, and the Politics of Accommodation." JBS 9:2 (1970): 27-49. [More's treatment of Morton in Richard III and the Utopia.] [178] Dean, L. F. "Literary Problems in More's Richard III." PMLA 58 (1943): 22-41. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 315-25, 632-40. Thomas More Bibliography / 297 [179] Dean, P. "Tudor Humanism and the Roman Past: A Background to Shakespeare." RenQ 41 (1988): 84-111. [On attitudes to Roman history in Lydgate, Caxton, Erasmus, Polydore Vergil, More, the Mirror for Magistrates and Shakespeare.] [180] Donno, E. S. "Thomas More and Richard III." RenQ 35 (1982): 401-47. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 121.] [181] Evans, R. C. "More's Richard III and Jonson's Richard Crookback and Sejanus." Comparative Drama 24 (1990): 97-132. [On Jonson's extensive markings to More's Latin Historic in the 1565 Opera omnia (possibly used in a lost play Richard Crookback) and on parallels with Jonson's Sejanus. Also contains many valuable comments on the dramatic elements in More's account.] [182] Fox, A. "Richard III's Pauline Oath: Shakespeare's Response to Thomas More." Moreana 57 (1978): 13-23. [183] ^. "Thomas More and Tudor Historiography: The History of King Richard III." Politics and Literature in the Reigns of Henry VII and Henry VIII. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989. 108-127. [Rev.: C. Burrow, Essays in Criticism 41:1 (1991): 55-60.] [184] Glunz, H. H. Shakespeare and Morus. Kblner anglistische Arbeiten 32. Bochum-Langendreer: H. POppinghaus, 1938. [cf. CW 2, xxxiv, n.1.] [185] Gordon, W. M. "Exemplum Narrative and Thomas More's History of Richard III." Clio 9 (1979): 75-88. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 121.] [186] ^. "The Religious Edifice and its Symbolism in the Writings of Erasmus, Colet, and More." Moreana 87/88 (1985): 15-23. [On Erasmus' colloquy Peregrinatio Religionis Ergo (The character Gratianus Pullus in the colloquy is usually identified as Colet) and on More's treatment of sanctuary in the History of Richard III.] [187] Goy-Blanquet, D. "Portrait a l'huile de minuit." L'Europe de la Renaissance: Cultures et Civilisations. Mélanges offerts d Marie-Ther&se Jones-Davies. Paris: Jean Touzot, 1988. 127-40. [On the ironies in More's Richard III.] [188] Grace, D. "More's Richard III: A 'Satirical Drama?'" Moreana 57 (1978): 31-38. [Criticism of Alison Hanham's interpretation of Richard III.] [189] ^. "On Interpreting St. Thomas More's History of Richard the Third." European History and its Historians. Ed. F. McGregor and N. Wright. Adelaide: Adelaide University Union P, 1977. 11-22. [190] Gransden, A. "The Humanist Historians: Thomas More and Polyore Vergil." Historical Writing in England ii, c. 1307 to the Early Sixteenth Century. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1982. 443-53. [191] Grant, P. "Thomas More's Richard III: Moral Narration and Humanist Method." Ren&Ref ns 7 (1983): 157-82. Rpt. in Language and the Discovery of Method in the English Renaissance. London: Macmillan, 1985. 19-47, 160-67. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 121.] [192] Hall, A. D. "Early Tudor Prose and Civil History in Thomas More's History of King Richard III." Ceremony and Civility in English Renaissance Prose. University Park, PA: Pennsyl- vania State UP, 1991. 53-100. Thomas More Bibliography / 298 [193] Hanham, A. "Fact and Fantasy: Thomas More as Historian." Thomas More: The Rhetoric of Character. Ed. A. Fox and P. Leech. Dunedin: U of Otago (A University Extension Publication), 1979. 65-81, 110-12. [Sum.: P. Leech, ibid.. 11-12; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 121.] [194] . "Sir Thomas More's Satirical Drama." Richard III and His Early Historians. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1975. 152-190. [Rev.: M. A. Anderegg, Moreana 57 (1978): 39-46. A rather strained attempt to see More's History as a five-act drama. See also D. Grace, "More's Richard III: A 'Satirical Drama?'" for a response to Hanham.] [195] Harris, M. S. "Sir Thomas More's History of Richard III as Humanist Historiography." Diss. Columbia U, 1972. [Deals with both Latin and English versions.] [196] Heath, T. G. "Another Look at Thomas More's Richard." Moreana 19/20 (1968): 11-19. [On More's History as a four part structure and differences with Shakespeare's play, and on the "Continuation" of the English version.] [197] IJsewijn, J. "Textverbesserungen zum Ricardus Tertius des Thomas Morus." Wolfenbiitteler Renaissance Mitteilungen 9:1 (1985): 8-10. [Emendations of the Latin text in CW 2.] [198] Kelly, H. A. "More's History of Richard III." Divine Providence in the England of Shakespeare's Histories. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1970. 129-33. [On More's "anti-myth" and on Hall's use of More's History.] [199] Kincaid, A. N. "The Dramatic Structure of Sir Thomas More's History of King Richard III." SEL 12 (1972): 223-42. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 375-87, 650-1. [Rev.: M.-C. Rousseau, Moreana 38 (1973): 95-96.] [200] Kinney, D. "Kings' Tragicomedies: Generic Misrule in More's History of Richard III." Moreana 86 (1985): 128-50. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 121-22. Study of the Latin version.] [201] Krapp, G. P. The Rise of English Literary Prose. New York: Oxford UP, 1915. Rpt. New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing Co., 1963. 415-16. [202] Leslau, J. "The Princes in the Tower." Moreana 98/99 (1988): 17-36. [Leslau rather fancifully argues that the princes were not murdered, but continued to live under assumed names. He further identifies John Clement as Richard, Duke of York.] [203] Marc'hadour, G. "Thomas More traduit par lui-meme." See Thomas More as a Trans- lator. [204] Noakes, A. "Fresh Light on More's Sources of Richard III Thrown by the National Portrait Gallery's Exhibition." Moreana 39 (1973): 39-41. [205] Pollard, A. F. "The Making of Sir Thomas More's Richard III." Historical Essays in Honour of James Tait. Ed. J. G. Edwards, V. H. Galbraith and E. F. Jacob. Manchester: for the Subscribers, 1933. 223-38. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 421-31, 658-63. [206] Reiter, R. E. "On the Genre of Thomas More's Richard III." Moreana 25 (1970): 5-16. [Richard III as an inverted saint's life.] [207] Ross, C. "Introduction: The Historical Reputation of Richard III, Fact and Fiction." Richard III. Berkeley: U of California P, 1981. xix-liii. [On the early historical accounts of Richard's reign, including More's (pp. xxvi-xxxii).] [208] Rousseau, M.-C. "Ricardiana in Moreana." Moreana 87/88 (1985): 175-76. Thomas More Bibliography / 299 [209] Rubio, G. J. "St. Thomas More's Richard III in the Tudor Chronicles." Diss. U of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 1971. [Directed by A. E. Barker.] [210] Rudnytsky, P. L. "More's History of King Richard III as an Uncanny Text." Contending Kingdoms: Historical, Psychological, and Feminist Approaches to the Literature of Sixteenth-Century England and France. Ed. M.-R. Logan and P. L. Rudnytsky. Detroit: Wayne State UP, 1991. 149-72. [Summ.: ibid., pp. 14-15.] [211] Schuster, M. F. "Philosophy of Life and Prose Style in Thomas More's Richard III and Francis Bacon's Henry VII." PMLA 70 (1955): 474-97. [212] Schutt, M. "Mores Richard III," and "Ober die verfasserschaft der History of Ruchard the Third." Die englische Biographik de Tudor-Zeit. Hamburg: Friederichsen, de Gruyter & Co., 1930. 42-47, 138. [213] Stauffer, D. A. English Biography Before 1700. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1930. Rpt. New York: Russell & Russell, 1964. 37-42. [214] Warnicke, R. M. "More's Richard III and the Mystery Plays." HJ 35 (1992): 761-78. [Summ.: p.761. On the influence of the Mystery Cycles on the composition of Richard III.] The Deformity of Richard III [215] Aird, C., and R. A. C. McIntosh. "Shakespeare's Richard III and the Ellis-Van Creveld Syndrome." The Practitioner 220 (April 1978): 656-62 + 1 plate. [Identifies Richard's deformity with a rare condition first discovered in 1940.] [216] Jones, E. W. "Richard III's Disfigurement: A Medical Postscript." Folklore 91 (1980): 211-27. [Minimizes the degree of Richard's deformity. On the folklore traditions of natal teeth.] [217] Rhodes, P. "Physical Deformity of Richard III." British Medical Journal 24 Dec. 1977: 1650-52 + 3 letters by B. Wolman, 0. T. Mansfield, and G. Dale, BMJ 28 Jan. 1978: 234-35. [Suggests various possible diagnoses for Richard's condition.] Richard III: Shore's Wife and Later Influence [218] Brown, B. "Sir Thomas More and Thomas Churchyard's Shore's Wife." YES 2 (1972): 41-48. [219] Cross, G. "More's Historie of Kyng Rycharde the Thirde and Lust's Dominion." N&Q ns 4 (1957): 198-99. [A scene in Lust's Dominion (first published in 1657) probably derived from More's account of Doctor Shaa's sermon alledging the bastardy of Edward IV and Clarence.] [220] Gresham, S. "The Dramaturgy of Tyranny: More's Richard III and Sackville's Complaint of Buckingham." Quincentennial Essays. 35-42. [221] Harner, J. L. "Jane Shore in Literature: A Checklist." N&Q ns 28 (1981): 496-507. [222] ^. "The Place of 'Shore's Wife' in More's The History of King Richard III." Moreana 74 (1982): 69-76. [223] ^. "'The Wofull Lamentation of Mistris Jane Shore': The Popularity of an Elizabethan Ballad." PBSA 71 (1977): 137-49. Thomas More Bibliography / 300 [224] Herbruggen, H. S. "Fletcher's Forgotten Play: The Rising to the Crown of Richard III." Miscellanea Moreana. 209-20. [Summ.: M.-C. Rousseau, Moreana 98/99 (1988): 158-59, 252.] [225] Khanna, L. C. "No Less Real than Ideal: Images of Women in More's Work." Moreana 55/56 (1977): 35-51. [On Shore's Wife and Queen Elizabeth in Richard III.] [226] Pratt, S. M. "Jane Shore and the Elizabethans: Some Facts and Speculations." TSLL 11 (1970): 1293-1306. [227] Rowan, D. F. "Shore's Wife." SEL 6 (1966): 447-64. Richard III: Cornwallis, Buck and Walpole [228] Buck, George, Sir. History of King Richard the Third. Ed. A. N. Kincaid. Gloucester: A. Sutton, 1979. Rev. ed. 1982. [229] Condren, C. "Cornwallis' Paradoxical Defence of Richard III: A Machiavellian Discourse on Morean Mythology?" Moreana 94 (1987): 5-24. [230] Cornwallis, William, Sir The Encomium of Richard III. Ed. A. N. Kincaid. Intro. J. A. Ramsden and A. N. Kincaid. London: Turner & Devereux, 1977. [231] Kincaid, A. F. "Sir Edward Hoby and 'K. Richard': Shakespeare Play or Morton Tract?" N&Q ns 28 (1981): 124-26. [Hoby showed Cecil a manuscript by 'Morton' on Richard III, not a performance of Shakespeare's Richard II. On Hoby's relationships with George Buck, and on Cornwallis' Encomium.] [232] Walpole, Horace. "Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of King Richard III." in Richard III, The Great Debate: Sir Thomas More's History of King Richard III and Horace Walpole's Historic Doubts on the Life and Reign of King Richard III. Ed. P. M. Kendall. New York: Norton, 1965.147-239. [233] Zeefeld, W. G. "A Tudor Defense of Richard III." PMLA 55 (1940): 946-57. [Badly written analysis of Cornwallis' Defense and Buc's History. Repeats the old nonsense about Morton as the author of More's History.] Literary Letters Editions and Translations [234] Fortunato, B., trans. Tommaso Moro: Lettere. Brescia: Morcelliana, 1987. [Rev.: M.-P. Bataille, Moreana 104 (1990): 87-90. Italian translation of 71 of More's letters, including 17 'Prison Letters' (45-71).] [235] Garanderie, M.-M. de la, trans. "La correspondance de Guillaume Bude et Thomas More." Moreana 19/20 (1968): 41-68. [French translation of Rogers #65-66, #68, #80, #96-97, #102, #154 and #156.] [236] Herbriiggen, H. S., ed. Sir Thomas More: Neue Briefe. Mit einer Einfahrung in die epistolographische Tradition. Neue Beitrage zur englischen Philologie 5. Munster: Verlag Aschendorff, 1966. [Rev.: A. Prevost, Moreana 11 (1966): 55-58; E. Sobel, RenQ 20 (1967): 488-90; W. Weiss (Germ.), Anglia 85 (1967): 100-01; R. W. Zandvoort, English Studies 47 (1966): 220. Cited as "Herbriiggen."] Thomas More Bibliography / 301 [237] Herbruggen, H. S., trans. Briefe der Freundschaft mit Erasmus. Munich: Kiisel, 1985. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 94 (1987): 61-64.] [238] Marc'hadour, G., and R. Galibois, trans. Erasme et Thomas More: Correspondance. Sherbrooke: Centre d'Etudes de la Renaissance, 1985. [Rev.: M. Lebel, Moreana 90 (1986): 73-75; M. M. Phillips, Moreana 89 (1986): 57-58; A. L. Prescott, ERSY 6 (1986): 156-58. French translation of correspondence between More and Erasmus.] [239] Rogers, E. F., ed. The Correspondence of Sir Thomas More. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1947. [Rev.: D. C. Allen, MLN 63 (1948): 291; J. M. Berdan, Saturday Review of Literature, 9 Aug. 1947 (rpt. Moreana 15/16 (1967): 224); A. Gewirth, Ethics 58 (1948): 230; P. E. Hallett, MLR 43 (1948): 255-57; P. 0. Kristeller, Journal of Philosophy 46 (1949): 51-52; A. W. Reed, RES 25 (1949): 354-56; M. Padberg Sullivan ("The Now and Future Gold Mine"), Moreana 15/16 (1967): 204-08. Cited as "Rogers." Gives the Latin or English texts of all of More's then known surviving correspondence, except those exchanged by More and Erasmus, which are included in P. S. Allen's edition of Erasmus' Opus epistolorum. Rogers' edition has been more recently supplemented by Herbruggen's Sir Thomas More: Neue Briefe (1966). Seven of More's longer letters, really tracts, have been also edited for the Yale Edition in CW 3/2, App. C, CW 7, and CW 15—see also In Defense of Humanism and Poetry, Letter to Bugenhagen, Letter to Frith and Prison Letters and Prayers.] [240] . St. Thomas More: Selected Letters. Trans. M. Haworth et al. Selected Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1961. [Rev.: H. W. Donner, MLR 58 (1963): 400-01; P. A. Duhamel, Boston Pilot 6 Jan. 1962 (rpt. in Moreana 15/16 (1967): 114); G. R. Elton, N&Q ns 10 (1963): 195. Cited as "Selected Letters."] See also In Defense of Humanism and Poetry, Letter to Bugenhagen, Letter to Frith, and Prison Letters and Prayers. Selections [241] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. "Letters." Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. 154-70. [Reprints eight letters, including some of the 'Prison Letters.'] [242] Castelli, A., ed. Venti Lettere. Rome: Editrice Studium, 1966. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 13 (1967): 101-04. Italian translation of twenty letters, including eight 'Prison Letters.'] [243] Clements, R. J., and L. Levant, eds. Renaissance Letters: Revelations of a World Reborn. New York: New York UP, 1977. 2, 25-31, 142, 218-21, 395, 427-29. [An anthology of Renaissance letters; includes five of More's letters.] Studies [244] Blom, N. van der. "La demission de More selon Erasme (d'apres Allen X, lettres 2735, 2750 et 2780)." See Law and Politics. [245] Delcourt, M. "L'Amitie d'Erasme et de More entre 1520 et 1535." BAGB no. 50 (1936): 7-29. Rev. vers. as "Erasme et Thomas More: Histoire d'une amitie." Erasme. Brussels: Editions Labor, 1986. 63-91. [246] Herbriiggen, H. S. "A Letter of Dr. Johann Eck to Thomas More." Moreana 8 (1965): 51-58. [Herbraggen #142A.] Thomas More Bibliography / 302 [247] ^. "Artes dictandi and erasmische Theorie in More's lateinischen Briefen." Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Guelpherbytani. 503-12. [248] ^. "Ein unbekannter Brief an St. Thomas More." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 241-46. [Herbrtiggen #184B.] [249] ^. "Three Additions to More's Correspondence." Moreana 79/80 (1983): 35-42. [250] Marc'hadour, G. "Bude of Paris and More of London." Moreana 19/20 (1968): 157-64. [251] ^. "Froben et Thomas More." Moreana 8 (1965): 113-15. [252] Meulon, H. "Lettre de More a John Colet." Moreana 22 (1969): 13-16. [French Translation of Rogers #3.] [253] Nelson, W. "The Friendship of Thomas More and John Colet: An Early Document." MLQ 1 (1940): 459-60. [On Rogers #3 (1504), and a document in Westminster Abbey in which More witnessed Colet's resignation (1502/03) from Goodeaster.] [254] Phillips, M. M. "The Correspondence of Erasmus and Thomas More." Thomas More: 1477-1977, Colloque international tenu en novembre 1977. Ed. A. Gerlo. Actes de l'Institut pour l'Etude de la Renaissance 6. Brussels: Editions de l'Universite de Bruxelles, 1980. 27-37. [255] Rogers, E. F. "A Calendar of the Correspondence of Sir Thomas More." EHR 37 (1922): 546-64. [Gives a brief desciption (sender, recipient, incipit, time, place), and sometimes an annotation, of 205 surviving letters to or from More (more letters have been found since.) This calendar led eventually to the publication twenty-five years later of E. F. Rogers edition of The Correspondence of Sir Thomas More (1947).] [256] Schoeck, R. J. "On the Letters of Thomas More." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 193-203. [257] Villoslada, P. G. "Tomas Moro en las epistolas de Erasmo." Razon y Fe 109 (1935): 303-24 + 110 (1936): 328-52. [258] White, T. I. "Legend and Reality: The Friendship Between More and Erasmus." Supplementum Festivum: Studies in Honor of Paul Oskar Kristeller. Ed. J. Hankins, J. Monfasani and F. Purnell, Jr. Binghamton, NY: MRTS 49, 1987. 489-504. [On the letters between More and Erasmus in the period 1520-1535.] See also In Defence of Humanism and Poetry, and Prison Letters and Prayers. In Defence of Humanism and Poetry: Letters to Dorp, Lee, Batmanson, Oxford and Germain de Brie Editions and Translations [259] Gibaud, H., ed. "Thomas More: Reponse a un moine anti-erasmien." M. A. Diss. Centre d'Etudes Superieures de la Renaissance, Universite de Tours, 1967. [Edition of Latin text and French translation.] [260] Gibaud, H., and G. Marc'hadour, trans. "Reponse de Thomas More a un moine anti-erasmien." Moreana 27/28 (1970): 31-83. [Preface (pp. 31-38) and French translation (pp. 39-83).] Thomas More Bibliography / 303 [261] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 99-109, 137-47. [Excerpts from a letter to Erasmus (Allen #388), The Letter to Oxford, and The Letter to Dorp.] [262] Guerlac, R., ed. "An Appendix of Related Passages by Thomas More." Juan Luis Vives Against the Pseudodialecticians: A Humanist Attack on Medieval Logic, by Juan Vives. Texts and Studies in the History of Logic and Philosophy 18. Dordrecht: D. Reidel, 1978. 157-95. [Rev.: D. Kinney, Moreana 69 (1981): 67-71. Includes a letter by More to Erasmus on Vives (Allen #1106) and generous excerpts from More's Letter to Dorp.] [263] Kinney. D., ed. In Defence of Humanism: Letter to Martin Dorp, Letter to the University of Oxford, Letter to Edward Lee, Letter to a Monk, with a new text and Translation of Historia Richardi Tertii. Vol. 15 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1986. xv-cxxxii, 1-311, 496-603. [Rev.: J. Chomarat, Moreana 94 (1987): 65-70; G. R. Elton, EHR 105 (1990): 175; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 120; A. L. Prescott, RenQ 41 (1988): 515-17; J. N. Wall, RES ns 40 (1989): 117-19. Contains texts and translations for Letters to Dorp, Lee, Batmanson, and Oxford.] [264] . "Appendix C: More's Letter to Brixius." Latin Poems. Vol. 3, Part II of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. C. H. Miller et al. New Haven: Yale UP, 1984. 549-694. [Text and translation.] [265] Marc'hadour, G., trans. "Lettre de Thomas More a Dorp." Saint Thomas More: Lettre Dorp-La Supplication des Ames. Namur: Le Soleil Levant, 1962. 37-129. [Rev.: P. Mesnard, Moreana 1 (1963): 30-39. French Translation.] [266] Rogers, E. F., ed. The Correspondence of Sir Thomas More. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1947. 27-74, 111-20, 137-54, 165-206, 212-39. [Latin texts: Rogers #15, #60, #75, #83 and #86.] [267] Scott-Craig, T. S. K., trans. "Thomas More's 1518 Letter to the University of Oxford." RenN 1 (1948): 17-24. Rpt. in The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Ed. E. M. Nugent. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 64-72. Rpt. in St. Thomas More: Selected Letters. Ed. E. F. Rogers. Trans. M. Haworth et al. Selected Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1961. 95-103. See also Literary Letters. Studies [268] Camporeale, S. I. "Da Lorenzo Valla a Tommaso Moro: lo statuto umanistico della teologia." Memorie domenicane ns 4 (1973): 9-102. Also published separately. [Rev.: C. Trinkaus, Moreana 50 (1976): 91-95. Rogers #15 and CW 15.] [269] Cooper, M. S. "More and the Letter to Martin Dorp." Moreana 6 (1965): 37-44. [Rogers #15 and CW 15.] [270] Kinney, D. "More's Letter to Dorp: Remapping the Trivium." RenQ 34 (1981): 179-210. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 120. Rev.: H. Gibaud, Moreana 75/76 (1982): 177-78. Rogers #15 and CW 15.] [271] Knowles, D. "Appendix I: Sir Thomas More's Letter 'To a Monk.'" The Religious Orders in England. 3 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1959. Rpt. with corrections 1971. III: 469. [Knowles identifies the recipient of More's Letter to a Monk (Rogers #83) as John Batmanson the Carthusian (d. 1531).] Thomas More Bibliography / 304 [272] Lavoie, G. "La fin de la querelle entre Germain de Brie et Thomas More." Moreana 50 (1976): 39-44. [Rogers #86 and CW 3/2, App. C, Allen #1087, etc.] [273] Marc'hadour, G. "Thomas More convertit Martin Dorp a l'humanisme erasmien?" Thomas More: 1477-1977, Colloque international tenu en novembre 1977. Ed. A. Gerlo. Actes de l'Institut pour l'Etude de la Renaissance 6. Brussels: Editions de l'Universite de Bruxelles, 1980. 13-25. [Rogers #15 and CW 15.] [274] ^. "Thomas More in Emulation and Defense of Erasmus." Erasmus of Rotterdam: The Man and the Scholar. Ed J. S. Weiland and W. Th. M. Frijhoff. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1988. 203-14. [Rogers #15, #60, #75, #83 and CW 15.] [275] Murphy, C. M. "An Epistolary Defence of Erasmus: Thomas More and an English Carthusian." Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Turonensi. 329-47. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 120-21. Rogers #83 and CW 15.] [276] Silva, A. de. "Sir Thomas More y la Teologia: El Quehacer TeolOgico segiin la Carta a Martin van Dorp" [The Mission of Theology According to More's Letter to Dorp]. Studium 17 (1977): 513-27. [Rev.: D. Kinney, Moreana 69 (1981): 71-72. Rogers #15 and CW 15.] [277] Sylvester, R. S. "Thomas More: Humanist in Action." Medieval and Renaissance Studies Ed. 0. B. Hardison, Jr. Chapel Hill, NC: U of North Carolina P, 1966. 125-37. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 462-69, 665-66. [Rogers #15, #60, #75, #83 and CW 15; Rogers #86 and CW 312, App. C.] Thomas More Bibliography / 305 A.3. UTOPIA 3a. Editions and Translations Utopia: Editions [278] Delcourt, M., ed. L'Utopie ou le traite de la meilleure forme de gouvernement. Paris: E. Droz, 1936. Rpt. Geneva: Droz, 1983. [Rev.: A. Prevost, ("Une retrospective: Le facsimile de l'Utopie editee par Marie Delcourt,") Moreana 85 (1985): 67-82; J. Schlumberger, Nouvelle revue frangaise 24 (Jan. 1936): 116-17. Latin text. The reprint includes M. Delcourt's 1966 French translation. See also Utopia: French Translations.] [279] Lupton, J. H., ed. The Utopia of Sir Thomas More. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1895. [Rev.: J. Gairdner, EHR 11 (1896): 369-71. Prints text of March 1518 Latin edition, together with Ralph Robynson's 1551 English translation. Main emphasis is on Robynson's translation which is printed at the top of the page in larger print, with the Latin underneath.] [280] Michels, V., and T. Ziegler, eds. Utopia. Vol. 11 in Lateinische Litteraturdenkmaler des XV. and XVI Jahrhunderts. Berlin: Weidmann, 1895. [Based on 1516 edition with emendations from March 1518.] [281] Prevost, A., ed. L'Utopie de Thomas More: Presentation, Texte Original, Apparat Critique, Exegese, Traduction et Notes. Paris: Mame, 1978. [Rev.: J. Gury, Moreana 61 (1979): 13-18. Facsimile of November 1518 Froben Latin edition with a modern French translation. Extensive notes and commentary (-800 pages).] [282] Sampson, G., and A. Guthkelch, eds. Utopia. London: Bell, 1910. [Contains an edition of the 1556 revised edition of Robinson's translation, together with the Latin text of the 1516 edition in an appendix. Also includes Roper's Life and some Letters.] [283] Surtz, E., and J. H. Hexter, eds. Utopia. Vol. 4 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1965. (Hereafter CW 4.) [For reviews see Reviews of the Yale Edition of Utopia.] [284] Utopia [1516]: A Scolar Press Facsimile. Leeds: Scolar P, 1966. [Facsimile reproduction of the first edition of 1516 published by Thierry Maartens in Antwerp.] Reviews of the Yale Edition of Utopia [285] Barker, A. E. "Clavis Moreana: The Yale Edition of Thomas More." JEGP 65 (1966): 318-30. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 215-28, 616. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 11 (1966): 94-95. A review article on the Utopia and Richard III.] [286] Bush, D. Rev. of Utopia. Moreana 7 (1965): 85-92. [287] Delcourt, M. "Utopiana." Latomus 25 (1966): 305-09. [288] Ferguson, A. F. "Review." JHI 29 (1968): 303-10. [289] Gawlick, G. Rev. (Germ.) of Utopia. Anglia 85 (1967): 95-99. [290] Manuel, F. E. Rev. of Utopia. History and Theory 6 (1967): 127-30. [On Hexter's and Surtz's introductions.] Thomas More Bibliography / 306 [291] Miller, C. H. Rev. of Utopia. ELN 3 (1965/66): 303-09. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 11 (1966): 100-101.] [292] ^. "The English Translation in the Yale Utopia: Some Corrections." Moreana 9 (1966): 57-64. [293] Sirluck, E. Rev. of Utopia. SEL 6 (1966): 173. [294] Skinner, Q. "More's Utopia." P&P 38 (1967): 154-68. [295] Thomson, P. Rev. of Utopia. N&Q ns 13 (1966): 72-73. [296] Trapp, J. B. Rev. of Utopia. RenN 19 (1966): 373-75. [297] Zandvoort, R. W. Rev. of Utopia. English Studies 47 (1966): 219. [298] ^. "On Translating Utopia." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 137-40. [Compares G. C. Richards' translation, used in the Yale edition, unfavorably with Paul Turner's translation in the Penguin Classics. See Utopia: Modern English Translations.] See also E. Surtz, trans., Utopia, Selected Works of St. Thomas More, in Utopia: Modern English Translations. Utopia: Concordances, Indices, etc. [299] Bolchazy, L. J., G. Gichan, and F. Theobald, eds. A Concordance to the Utopia of St. Thomas More and a Frequency Word List. Alpha-Omega 2. Hildesheim: G. Olms, 1978. [Rev.: W. W. Wooden, Computers and the Humanities 17 (1983): 28-29.] [300] Brooks, P. "Notes on Rare Books." New York Review of Books 27 July 1941: 19. [On Tunstall's copy of Utopia.] [301] Gee, J. A. "Cuthbert Tunstall's Copy of the First Edition of Utopia." Yale University Library Gazette 7 (1933): 87-88. [302] ^. "The Second Edition of the Utopia, Paris, 1517." Yale University Library Gazette 15 (1941): 77-83. [303] Surtz, E. "Sources, Parallels, and Influences: Supplementary to the Yale Utopia." Moreana 9 (1966): 5-11. [Some additions to Surtz's introductory matter in the Yale edition. Suggests that Hythloday has some of the features of Erasmus.] [304] Surtz, E. "The Illustrations in the Yale Utopia." Moreana 10 (1966): 55-73. [Contains detailed descriptions of the Plates in the Yale Edition.] [305] White, T. I. "An Index Verborum to the Yale Utopia." Moreana 52 (1976): 5-17. Utopia: Bibliographies [306] Kronenberg, M. E. "Some Notes on the First Edition of the Utopia." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 134-36. [Lists locations of 22 copies of the First Edition. See also C. Smith "Additional Locations for Thomas More's Utopia."] [307] Rousseau, M.-C., and P. Delendick. "Utopiana in Moreana." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 301-02 + 69 (1981): 163-65 + 83/84 (1984): 143-44 + 95/96 (1987): 177 + 101/102 (1990): 146. Thomas More Bibliography / 307 [308] Samaan, A. B. "Utopias and Utopian Novels: 1516-1949, A Preliminary Bibliography." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 28-93. [309] Sargent, L. T. "Secondary Works on Utopian Literature." British and American Utopian Literature, 1516-1975: An Annotated Bibliography. Boston, MA: G. K. Hall & Co., 1979. 167-290. [Many citations for More's Utopia.] [310] Smith, C. "Additional Locations for Thomas More's Utopia." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 261-62. [An "Updating" of R. W. Gibson's St. Thomas More: A Preliminary Bibliography—See Some Bibliographies.] See also Some Bibliographies. Utopia: Editions of Robynson's English Translation (1551) [311] Andrews, C. M., ed. "Sir Thomas More's Utopia." Famous Utopias: Being the Complete Text of Rousseau's Social Contract, More's Utopia, Bacon's New Atlantis and Campanella's City of the Sun. New York: Tudor Publishing Co., 1901. 129-232. [Modernization of Robynson?] [312] Campbell, M., ed. The Utopia of Sir Thomas More. Toronto and New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1947. 3-182. [A modernized version of Robynson's translation.] [313] Collins, J. C., ed. Sir Thomas More's Utopia. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1904. Rpt. 1963. [An edition of Robynson's translation. Includes extensive notes and glossary. See also Lumby and Lupton.] [314] Eliot, W., ed. Utopia. Machiavelli, More, Luther. Vol. 36 of The Harvard Classics. 50 vols. New York: P. F. Collier & Son, 1910. 135-243. [Modern spelling version of Robynson's translation. Omits parerga.] [315] Gallagher, L., ed. "Utopia by Thomas More." More's Utopia and its Critics. Chicago: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1964. 1-90. [A modernized edition.] [316] Goitein, H., ed. Utopia. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., 1925. [317] Hallett, P. E., ed. Utopia. London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1937. [Modern Spelling version of Robynson's translation.] [318] Lumby, J. R., ed. More's Utopia. Cambridge: Cambridge UP (Pitt Press Series), 1879. Rpt. 1956. [An edition of Robynson's translation. Includes extensive notes and glossary. See also Collins and Lupton.] [319] Lupton, J. H., ed. The Utopia of Sir Thomas More. See Utopia: Editions. [320] Milligan, B. A., intro. "Utopia: Sir Thomas More." Three Renaissance Classics: The Prince, Utopia, The Courtier. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1953. 105-239, 620-22. [A reprint of Ralph Robynson's 1551 translation.] [321] Morley, H., ed. "Sir Thomas More's Utopia." Ideal Commonwealths: Plutarch's Lycurgus, More's Utopia, Bacon's New Atlantis, Campanella's City of the Sun and a fragment of Hall's Mundus Alter et Idem. London: George Routledge and Sons, 1885. 53-167. Rev. ed. in Ideal Commonwealths: More's Utopia, Bacon's New Atlantis, Campanella's City of the Sun and Harrington's Oceana. New York: Colonial P, 1901. 3-99. [Modernization of Robynson.] Thomas More Bibliography / 308 [322] Robynson, Ralph, trans. A fruteful and pleasaunt worke of the beste state of a publyque weale, and the newe yle called Utopia. By Sir Thomas More. London: A. Vele, 1551. Rpt. (The English Experience 108) Amsterdam : Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1969. [Reprint of STC 18094.] [323] Warrington, J., ed. "Utopia." More's Utopia and A Dialogue of Comfort. Everyman's Library 461. London: Dent, 1910. Rev. ed. with modernized spelling, 1951. 1-142. [A modern spelling version of Robynson's translation.] [324] White, F. R., ed. "Utopia." Famous Utopias of the Renaissance. New York: Packard and Company, 1946; Rpt. Hendricks House, 1955. 3-117. [Modernization of Robynson's translation.] Utopia: Excerpts From Robynson's Translation [325] Harris, M. et al., ed. "Thomas More: Utopia." Introduction to Contemporary Civilization in the West. 2 vols. New York: Columbia UP, 3rd ed. rev. 1960. I: 647-76. [A substantial excerpt from Robynson's translation in modernized spelling.] [326] Nugent, E. M., ed. "Sir Thomas More: Utopia." in The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 217-25. [327] Mates, J., and E. Cantelupe, eds. "Sir Thomas More: Utopia." Renaissance Culture: A New Sense of Order. New York: George Braziler, 1966. 83-85, 368-72. [Two short excerpts from Robynson's translation.] [328] Negley, G., and J. M. Patrick, eds. "Utopia, 1516: By Sir Thomas More, Lord Chancellor of England, Saint and Martyr." The Quest for Utopia: An Anthology of Imaginary Societies. New York: Henry Schumann, 1952. 261-84. [Modernization of Robynson: a condensation of Book II.] [329] Trapp, J. B., ed. "Sir Thomas More: Utopia." The Middle Ages through the Eighteenth Century. Vol. 1 of The Oxford Anthology of English Literature. Ed. J. Hollander and F. Kermode. 2 vols. London: Oxford UP, 1973. 552-69. [One excerpt from Book I, and two from Book II.] Utopia: Modern English Translations [330] Adams, R. M., trans. Utopia: A New Translation, Backgrounds, Criticism. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1975; 2nd rev. ed. 1992. [Rev.: W. W. Wooden, College Literature 4 (1977): 98-99. A modern translation. The 2nd edition contains a revised translation and several new essays. Several items also listed separately. See also edition of G. M. Logan and R. M. Adams, Utopia (1989).] [331] Dolan, J. P., trans. "Utopia." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 23-96. [A modern translation. Omits prefatory letter and parerga.] [332] Logan, G. M., and R. M. Adams, trans. Utopia. Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. [Rev.: C. M. Murphy, SCJ 22 (1991): 883-85. Revised version of the translation in the Norton edition.] [333] Marshall, P. K., trans. Utopia: A New Translation. Intro. J. A. Scott. New York: Washington Square P, 1965. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 8 (1965): 97-99.] Thomas More Bibliography / 309 [334] Ogden, H. V. S., trans. Utopia. New York: Apple-Century-Crofts, 1949. [A modern translation, but sometimes follows wording of Robynson's and Burnett's translations. Omits parerga.] [335] Richards, C. G., trans. More's Utopia. Oxford: Blackwell, 1923. [Rev.: TLS 19 Apr. 1923: 263. A modern translation—a revised version of which, made by E. Surtz, provided the English text used in the Yale Edition of More's Utopia.] [336] Sheehan, J., and J. P. Donnelly, trans. Utopia. Milwaukee: Marquette UP, 1984. [A modern translation. Omits parerga.] [337] Surtz, E., trans. Utopia. Selected Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1964. [Rev.: A. Prevost, Moreana 4 (1964): 93-97; P. Thomson, N&Q ns 12 (1965): 155-56; R. W. Zandvoort, English Studies 47 (1966): 218-19. Same translation as in CW 4, which in turn is a revised version of C. G. Richard's 1923 translation.] [338] ^. "Utopia (abridged): Sir Thomas More." The Great Books Today, 1965. Chicago: Encyclopedia Britannica, 1965. 372-437. ['Additions to the Great Books Library.' Abridged rpt. of the Yale translation.] [339] Turner, P., trans. Utopia. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1965. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour and E. E. Reynolds, Moreana 8 (1965): 100-01; R. W. Zandvoort, English Studies 47 (1966): 219-20 and Moreana 15/16 (1967): 137-40. A very readable modern translation.] [340] ^. Utopia. Lithographs by E. Bawden. London: Folio Society, 1972. [Same translation as Penguin edition.] Utopia: Studies of the English Translations [341] Binder, J. "More's Utopia in English: A Note on Translation." MLN 62 (1947): 370-76. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 229-33, 616. [On Ralph Robinson's 1551 translation.] [342] Crossett, J. "An Omission in Robynson's Translation of More's Utopia." N&Q ns 7 (1960): 367. [Summ.: J. S. Phillipson, AES 3 (1960): 2671.] [343] Itkonen-Kaila, M. "Translating Utopia." Moreana 34 (1972): 39-45. [344] McCutcheon, E. "More's Utopia as Commonplaced in Edward Pudsey's Tooke' (Circa 1600)." See Utopia in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Utopia: French Translations [345] Delcourt, M., ed. L'Utopie ou le traite de la meilleure forme de gouvernement. Brussels: Renaissance du Livre, 1966. Rpt. as L'Utopie, ou Le Traite de la meilleure forme de gouvernement. Notes by S. Goyard-Fabre. Paris: Flammarion, 1987. [Rev.: A. Prevost, Moreana 94 (1987): 71-73. See also Utopia: Editions.] [346] Prevost, A., ed. L'Utopie de Thomas More. See Utopia: Editions. Utopia: Other Translations [347] Alcala, M., trans. La Utopia. Mexico: Porrua, 1975. 5th ed. 1985. [A Spanish translation. See also Utopia: Spain, New Spain and America.] Thomas More Bibliography / 310 [348] Itkonen-Kaila, M., trans. Utopia. Helsinki: Porvoo, 1971. [A Finnish translation. See also "Translating Utopia," in Utopia: Studies of the English Translations.] [349] Ritter, G., trans. Utopia. Intro. H. Oncken. in Klassiker der Politik. Ed. F. Meinecke and H. Oncken. Berlin: R. Hobbing, 1922. [German translation. It has a famous (or notorious) introduction, which in the aftermath of WW I, sees Utopia as an expression of English proto-imperialism and lust for power politics. See Avineri, S., "War and Slavery in More's Utopia." in War and Peace in Utopia.] [350] Samaan, A. B., trans. Utopia. Cairo: Dar el-Maaref, 1974. [Rev.: M. Manzalaoui, Moreana 46 (1975): 47-60.] 3b. Studies of Utopia Utopia: General Studies [351] Adams, R. M., ed. "Criticism." Utopia: A New Translation, Backgrounds, Criticism By Sir Thomas More. New York: W. W. Norton and Co., 1975. 137-238. Rpt. 2nd rev. ed. 1992. 137-260. [Contains essays by or excerpts from the works of R. W. Chambers, Karl Kautsky, Russell Ames, J. H. Hexter, Robert C. Elliott, Harry Berger, C. S. Lewis, Elizabeth McCutcheon, and others. The 2nd rev. edition reprints some essays from the 1st edition, omits others, and adds five "new" essays. Some items listed separately.] [352] Baker-Smith, D. More's Utopia. London: HarperCollinsAcademic, 1991. [353] Berneri, M. L. "Sir Thomas More: Utopia." Journey Through Utopia. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1950. 58-88. [By a young scholar who died at 31. Extensive quotations illustrating political and social life of Utopia.] [354] Brockhaus, H. Die Utopia-Schrift des Thomas Morus. Beitrage zur Kulturgeschichte des Mittelalters and der Renaissance 37. Leipzig: B. G. Teubner, 1929. [355] Coles, P. "The Interpretation of More's Utopia." HibbertJ 56 (1958): 365-70. [Summ.: J. 0. Waller, AES 1 (1958): 1773. Literature vs. politics: Coles opts for politics.] [356] Donner, H. W. "The Interpretation of Utopia." Studia Neophilologica 15 (1943): 43-48. [357] ^ . Introduction to Utopia. London: Sidgwick and Jackson, 1945. [358] Dudok, G. Sir Thomas More and His Utopia. Amsterdam: H. J. Paris, A. J. Kruyt, H. J. Pores, 1923. [359] Dupont, V. "La double Utopie de Thomas More." L'Utopie et le roman utopique dans la Literature anglaise. Paris-Toulouse: Didier, 1941. 84-123. [360] Duveau, G. "Le Ore de l'utopie, Thomas More." Sociologie de l'utopie et autres 'essais.' Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1961. 73-81. [361] Eliav-Feldon, M. Realistic Utopias: The Ideal Imaginary Societies of the Renaissance, 1516-1630. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1982. [Rev.: J. Dunn, History 68 (1983): 316.] [362] Fox, A. "The Morean Synthesis: Utopia." Thomas More: History and Providence. New Haven: Yale UP, 1983. 50-75. Pp. 53-75 rpt. without most of Fox's notes as "[An Intricate, Intimate Compromise.]" in Utopia: A Revised Translation, Backgrounds, Criticism. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2nd rev. ed. 1992. 154-69. Thomas More Bibliography / 311 [363] . "In Search of the Real Thomas More: An Approach to Utopia." Thomas More: The Rhetoric of Character. Ed. A. Fox and P. Leech. Dunedin: U of Otago (A University Extension Publication), 1979. 17-34, 103-06. [Sum.: P. Leech, ibid.; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 123.] [364] Gallagher, L., ed. "Twentieth-Century Opinion." More's Utopia and it's Critics. Chicago: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1964. 91-170. [Contains essays by or excerpts from the works of Robert Bolt, Karl Kautsky, R. W. Chambers, Edward Surtz, David Bevington, Russell Ames, and others. Some items listed separately.] [365] Hertzler, J. 0. "The Utopia of Sir Thomas More." The History of Utopian Thought. New York: MacMillan, 1923. Rpt. New York: Cooper Square Publishers, 1965. 127-46. [More as a liberal social reformer.] [366] Hexter, J. H. More's Utopia: The Biography of an Idea. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1952. Rpt. with an epilogue. New York: Harper, 1965. Rpt. Westport, CT: Greenwood P, 1976. [Rev.: R. J. Schoeck, CHR 38 (1953): 448-49 and MLN 68 (1953): 498-500.] [367] Johnson, R. S. More's Utopia: Ideal and Illusion. New Haven: Yale UP, 1969. [Rev.: W. Allen, Moreana 25 (1970): 95-97; B. W. Beckingsale, N&Q ns 18 (1971): 232-33.] [368] Nelson, W., ed. Twentieth Century Interpretations of Utopia. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. [Contains essays by or excerpts from the works of R. W. Chambers, H. W. Donner, Karl Kautsky, Gerhard Ritter, Russell Ames, J. H. Hexter, C. S. Lewis, Edward Surtz, David Bevington, T. S. Dorsch, and others. Some items listed separately.] [369] Olin, J. C., ed. Interpreting Thomas More's Utopia. New York: Fordham UP, 1989. [Rev.: C. M. Murphy, SCJ 22 (1991): 883-84; A. Rabil, Jr., Church History 61 (1992): 406-07. Articles also listed separately.] [370] . "The Idea of Utopia from Hesiod to John Paul II." Interpreting Thomas More's Utopia. Ed. J. C. Olin. New York: Fordham UP, 1989. 77-98. [Summ.: C. M. Murphy, SCJ 22 (1991): 884. A. Rabil, Jr., Church History 61 (1992): 406. A short history of utopian thought tracing its roots from Judaeo-Christian and classical sources.] [371] Sanderlin, G. "The Meaning of Thomas More's Utopia." College English 12 (1950/51): 74-77. [Emphasises the literary quality of Utopia.] [372] . The Praise of Pleasure: Philosophy, Education and Communism in More's Utopia. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1957. Pp. 161-74 rpt. as "Humanism and Communism." in Utopia: A Revised Translation, Backgrounds, Criticism. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2nd rev. ed. 1992. 169-81. [Rev.: R. P. Adams, RenN 11 (1958): 129-33.] [373] Tod, I., and M. Wheeler. "The Renaissance City State: Utopia." Utopia. New York: Harmony Books, 1978. 29-34. [An illustrated history of Utopias: contains an extremely superficial treatment of More's Utopia.] [374] Trevor-Roper, H. "The Intellectual World of Sir Thomas More." American Scholar 48 (Winter 1978/79): 19-32. [375] ^. "Sir Thomas More and Utopia." Renaissance Essays. London: Secker & Warburg, 1985; Rpt. Fontana Books, 1986. 24-58. [Combines two earlier articles: "The Intellectual World of Sir Thomas More," and another in Atti dei Convegni Lincei (1980).] Thomas More Bibliography / 312 Utopia: Dialogue, Drama, Satire, Literary and Rhetorical Techniques: Unsorted [376] Bertagnoni, M. "Discordia concors: Utopia e it Dialogo del conforto." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 183-90. [377] Allen, W. "Speculations on St. Thomas More's Use of Hesychius." PQ 46 (1967): 156-66. [378] ^. "St. John Chrysostom: A Footnote to Utopia." Moreana 78 (1983): 21-22. [379] Blaim, A. "More's Utopia: Persuasion or Polyphony?" Moreana 73 (1982): 5-20. [380] Cavanaugh, J. R. "Utopia: Sound from Somewhere." Moreana 35 (1972): 27-38. [381] Doyle, C. C. "Poggio and the Anemolian Ambassadors." Moreana 58 (1978): 61-63 and 59/60 (1978): 90. [382] Elliott, R. C. "The Shape of Utopia." ELH 30 (1964): 317-34. Rpt. in Sir Thomas More: Utopia. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1975. 177-92. Rpt. 2nd rev. ed. 1992. 181-95. [383] ^. The Shape of Utopia. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1970. [384] Field, P. J. C. "The Emperor Constantine and Pythagoras." Moreana 47/8 (1975): 21-23. [385] Nagel, A. F. "Lies and the Limitable Inane: Contradiction in More's Utopia." RenQ 26 (1973): 173-80. [386] Preston, R. "The Macarian King and the Eight Beatitudes." Moreana 50 (1976): 119. [387] Prevost, A. "L'Utopie: le genre litteraire." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 161-68. [388] Stevens, I. N. "Aesthetic Distance in the Utopia." Moreana 43/44 (1974): 13-24. [389] Surtz, E. "Introduction." Utopia. Vol. 4 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. J. H. Hexter and E. Surtz. New Haven: Yale UP, 1965. cxxv-cxciv. [Surtz's introduction deals mainly with the literary art and the sources of Utopia. Complements Hexter's historical introduction (xv-cxxiv).] [390] Suzuki, Y. "Utopia Reinterpreted." Moreana 67/68 [Thomas More Gazette 2] (1980): 31-34. [391] Wilson, K. "An Affront to Silver and Gold: Tertullian's De cultu feminarum and More's Utopia." Moreana 73 (1982): 69-74. [392] ^. "Thomas More and Theophrastus—An Idea Put to Work." Moreana 67/68 [Thomas More Gazette 2] (1980): 35-38. Utopia: Philosophy, Humanism and Theology — Unsorted [393] Evans, J. X. "The Kingdom Within More's Utopia." Moreana 55/56 (1977): 5-21. [394] Gueguen, J. A. "Why is There No University in Utopia?" Moreana 77 (1983): 31-34. [395] Gury, J. "Libre citoyens d'Utopie." Moreana 69 (1981): 119-27. Thomas More Bibliography / 313 [396] Herbriiggen, H. S. Utopie und Anti-Utopie. Von der Struckturanalyse zur Strukturtypologie. Beitrage zur englishen Philologie 43. Bochum-Langendreer: 1960. Pp. 16-37 trans. and rev. by author as "More's Utopia as a Paradigm." Rpt. in Essential Articles. 251-62, 620-23. [Rev.: G. Muller-Schwefe, N&Q ns 12 (1965): 239-40.] [397] Khanna, L. C. "Utopia: The Case for Open-mindedness in the Commonwealth." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 91-105. [398] Kouskoff, G. "IUS, FAS, AEQUUM: analyse de mots-cles." Moreana 73 (1982): 109-10. [399] Manuel, F. E., and F. P. "The Passion of Thomas More." Utopian Thought in the Western World. Cambridge, MA: Belknap P for Harvard UP, 1979. 117-49, 822-25. [400] Peters, R. S. "Utopia and More's Orthodoxy." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 147-55. [401] Sawada, P. A. "Toward the Definition of Utopia." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 135-46. [402] Schoeck, R. J. "The Intellectual Milieu of More's Utopia: Some Notes." Moreana 1 (1963): 40-46. [403] Simon, E. P. "Thomas More's Utopia: Creating an Image of the Soul." Moreana 69 (1981): 21-40. [404] Surtz, E. "'Like a Fountain Stirred.'" Moreana 77 (1983): 53-65. [405] ^. "Logic in Utopia." PQ 29 (1950): 389-401. Rpt. in The Praise of Pleasure: Philosophy, Education and Communism in More's Utopia. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1957. 87-101, 215-18. [406] ^. "Thomas More and the Great Books." PQ 32 (1953): 43-57. Rpt. in The Praise of Pleasure: Philosophy, Education and Communism in More's Utopia. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1957. 135-150, 223-25. [407] Sussmuth, H. Studien zur Utopia des Thomas Morus. Ein Beitrag zur Geistesgeschichte des 16. Jahrhunderts. Reformationsgeschichtliche Studien und Texte 95. Munster: Aschendorff, 1967. [Rev.: H. W. Donner, Moreana 36 (1972): 87-91. Detailed analysis of classical sources and contemporary interpretations of Utopia.] More's Utopian Embassy of 1515 and the Composition of Utopia [408] Hexter, J. H. "Introduction: The Composition of Utopia," and "Appendix A: More's Visit to Antwerp in 1515." Utopia. Vol. 4 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. E. Surtz and J. H. Hexter. New Haven: Yale UP, 1965. xv-xxiii, 571-76. Rpt. as Appendices A and B to Chapter 2: "The Utopian Vision: Thomas More. Utopia and Its Historical Milieux." The Vision of Politics on the Eve of the Reformation: More, Machiavelli, and Seyssel. New York: Basic Books; London: Allen Lane, 1973. 138-49. [409] Starnes, C. "Appendix: On Hexter's Account of More's Visit to Antwerp in 1515." The New Republic: A Commentary on Book I of More's Utopia Showing Its Relation to Plato's Republic. Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier UP, 1990. 109-11. [410] Surtz, E. "St Thomas More and his Utopian Embassy of 1515." CHR 39 (1953/4): 272-97. [The standard account of More's 1515 diplomatic mission.] Thomas More Bibliography / 314 Utopia: Prefatory Letters and Parerga [411] Allen, P. R. "Utopia and European Humanism: the Function of the Prefatory Letters and Verses." SRen 10 (1963): 91-107. [412] Astell, A. W. "Rhetorical Strategy and the Fiction of Audience in More's Utopia." See Utopia: Rhetoric, Fiction and Poetics. [413] Derrett, J. D. M. "The Utopian Alphabet." Moreana 12 (1966): 61-66. [414] Garanderie, M.-M. de la. "Guillaume Bude lecteur de l'Utopie." Miscellanea Moreana. 327-38. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 161, 255-56.] [415] McCutcheon, E. "Mendacium Dicere and Mentiri: A Utopian Crux." Acta Conuentus Neo-Latini Sanctandreani. 449-57. [416] ^ . My Dear Peter: The Ars Poetica and Hermeneutics for More's Utopia. Angers: Editions Moreana, 1983. [Rev.: J. Gury, Moreana 77 (1983): 49-51; A. F. Kinney, Moreana 78 (1983): 25-28 and RenQ 40 (1987): 121-23.] [417] McKinnon, D. G. "The Marginal Glosses in More's Utopia: The Character of the Commentator." Renaissance Papers, 1970. Ed. D. G. Donovan. Columbus, SC: The South- eastern Renaissance Conference: 1971. 11-19. [418] Marc'hadour, G. "More Self-Translator." See Thomas More as a Translator. [419] O'Grady, W. "A Note on Busleyden's Letter to Thomas More." Moreana 11 (1966): 33-38. [420] Rousseau, M.-C. "EX NON INSULA INSULAM file, fil d'Ariane de l'Utopie." Moreana 69 (1981): 129-36. [421] Schoeck, R. J. "The Ironic and the Prophetic: Towards Reading More's Utopia as a Multidisciplinary Work." Quincentennial Essays. 124-34. Rev. vers. as "More's Utopia and Intertextuality." Intertextuality and Renaissance Texts. Gratia, Bamberger Schriften zur Renaissanceforschung 12. Bamberg: H. Kaiser-Verlag, 1984. 83-105. [Analyses Bude's letter to Lupset in the Utopia parerga.] [422] Surtz, E. "More's Apologia pro Utopia sua." MLQ 19 (1958): 319-24. [Summ.: J. Webber, AES 2 (1959): 907.] [423] Truchet, S. "The Eutopians." Cahiers Elisabethains 28 (1985): 17-22. [On the Christian Humanist "Eutopian" authors of the Prefatory Letters to Utopia.] [424] Wooden, W. W. "A Reconsideration of the Parerga of Thomas More's Utopia." Quin- centennial Essays. 151-60. [425] Wooden, W. W., and J. N. Wall. "Thomas More and the Painter's Eye: Visual Perspective and Artistic Purpose in More's Utopia." JMRS 15 (1985): 231-63. Utopia: Book One, Europe, the 'Dialogue of Counsel,' and Reform [426] Bradshaw, B. "More on Utopia." HJ 24 (1981): 1-27. [427] Davis, J. C. "More, Morton, and the Politics of Accommodation." See Richard III: Literary and Historical Studies. Thomas More Bibliography / 315 [428] Fenlon, D. B. "England and Europe: Utopia and its Aftermath." TRHS 5th ser. 25 (1975): 115-35. [Utopia as part polls, part family and part monastery.] [429] Hammond, E. R. "Nature-Reason-Justice in Utopia and Gulliver's Travels." See Utopia: More and Swift. [430] Hexter, J. H. "Introduction: Utopia and Its Historical Milieu." Utopia. Vol. 4 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1965. xxiii-cxxiv. Rpt. as "The Utopian Vision: Thomas More. Utopia and Its Historical Milieux." The Vision of Politics on the Eve of the Reformation: More, Machiavelli. and Seyssel. New York: Basic Books; London, Allen Lane, 1973. 19-107, 117-37. [431] . "Thomas More and the Problem of Counsel." Quincentennial Essays. 55-66. [432] . "Utopia and Geneva." Action and Conviction in Early Modern Europe. Ed. T. K. Rabb and J. E. Seigel. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1969. 77-89. Rpt. in The Vision of Politics on the Eve of the Reformation: More, Machiavelli, and Seyssel. New York: Basic Books; London: Allen Lane, 1973. 107-17. [Hexter treats Utopia as a straight-forward program. See Fenlon "England and Europe: Utopia and its aftermath," for a corrective to Hexter's rather simpleminded view of Calvin's Geneva as the embodiment of More's utopian reform program.] [433] Johnson, R. S. "The Argument for Reform in More's Utopia." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 123-34. [434] Jones, E. "Commoners and Kings: Book One of More's Utopia." Medieval Studies for J. A. W. Bennett: Aetatis Suae LXX. Ed. P. L. Heyworth. Oxford, Clarendon P, 1981. 255-72. [Summ.: P. Boitani, SAC 5 (1983): 168-69. Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 78 (1983): 31-32.] [435] Lehmberg, S. E. "English Humanists, the Reformation, and the Problem of Counsel." ARG 52 (1961): 74-91. [More, Elyot and Starkey on the problem of counsel.] [436] Levine, J. M. "Method in the History of Ideas: More, Machiavelli and Quentin Skinner." Annals of Scholarship 3:4 (1986): 37-60. [Pp. 52-56, 59-60 is a "response" to Skinner's discussion of More in Vol. 1 of Foundations of Political Thought (1978), and Skinner's "review article" on Utopia in Past and Present (1967) (see Reviews of the Yale Edition of Utopia). Skinner has since reversed some of his earlier positions, see "Sir Thomas More's Utopia and the Language of Renaissance Humanism" (1987).] [437] McCutcheon, E. "War Games in Utopia." See War and Peace in Utopia. [438] McLean, A. "Utopian Communism and the State." Humanism and the Rise of Science in England. London: Heinemann, 1972. 56-63. [Follows Hexter.] [439] Mason, H. A. "More's Utopia: The Vindication of Christian Humanism." Humanism and Poetry in the Early Tudor Period. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1959. 104-40. [A profound and truly seminal meditation on More's Utopia as an expression of the ideals of Christian Humanism. Criticizes Donner's and Chamber's interpretations.] [440] Norbrook, D. "The Utopia and Radical Humanism." Poetry and Politics in the English Renaissance. London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1984. 18-31, 288-91. [Reflects influence of Pocock and Q. Skinner.] [441] Perlette, J. M. "Of Sites and Parasites: The Centrality of the Marginal Anecdote in Book 1 of More's Utopia." ELH 54 (1987): 231-52. Thomas More Bibliography / 316 [442] Quattrocki, E. "Injustice, not Councilorship: The Theme of Book One of Utopia." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 19-28. [443] Skinner, Q. "Utopia and the Critique of Humanism." The Foundations of Modern Political Thought. 2 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1978. I: 255-62. [444] ^. "Sir Thomas More's Utopia and the Language of Renaissance Humanism." The Languages of Political Theory in Early-Modern Europe. Ed. A. Pagden. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1987. 123-57. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 123. On otium, negotium, true nobility, and `The Best State of a Commonwealth'. A very tightly argued paper; retracts some of his earlier statements in Foundations of Modern Political Thought and Past and Present (see Reviews of the Yale Edition of Utopia). See also B. Bradshaw, "More on Utopia.") [445] Starnes, C. The New Republic. See Utopia: More and Plato. See also Utopia: Dialogue, Dialectic and Drama and Utopia: Social and Political Philosophy. Utopia: Raphael Hythloday [446] Allen, W. S. "Hythloday and the Root of all Evil." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 51-60. [447] Coogan, R. "Nunc vivo of uolo." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 29-45. [448] Gury, J. "Raphael Hythlodee et 'sale." Moreana 41 (1974): 107. [449] Hammond, E. R. "Hythloday's Questions: Clues to his Character? Or Provokers of Thought?" Moreana 70 (1981): 25-27. [450] McCutcheon, E. "Thomas More, Raphael Hythlodaeus, and the Angel Raphael." SEL 9 (1965): 21-38. [451] Mortimer, A. "Hythlodaeus and Persona More: The Narrative Voices of Utopia." Cahiers Elisabethains 28 (1985): 23-35. [452] Opanasets, N. "More Platonism." Review of Politics 51 (1989): 412-34. [Summ.: p.412. On Raphael Hythloday and Socrates.] [453] Rudat, W. E. H. "More's Raphael Hythloday: Missing the Point in Utopia Once More." Moreana 69 (1981): 41-64. [454] Seeber, H. U. "Hythloday as Preacher and a Possible Debt to Macrobius." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 71-86. [455] Sylvester, R. S. "`Si Hythlodaeo Credimus': Vision and Revision in Thomas More's Utopia." Soundings 51 (1968): 272-89. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 290-301, 630-31. [456] Weiner, A. D. "Raphael's Eutopia and More's Utopia: Christian Humanism and the Limits of Reason." HLQ 39 (1975): 1-27. [457] Wooden, W. W. "Satiric Strategy in More's Utopia: The Case of Raphael Hythloday." See Utopia: Irony, Paradox, Humour and Satire. Thomas More Bibliography / 317 The Conclusion of Utopia [458] Allen, W. S. "The Tone of More's Farewell to Utopia: A Reply to J. H. Hexter." Moreana 51 (1976): 108-18. [459] Hexter, J. H. "Intention, Words and Meaning: The Case of More's Utopia." New Literary History 6 (1976) 529-41. [460] Mezciems, J. "Utopia and 'the Thing which is not': More, Swift, and Others Lying Idealists." See Utopia: More and Swift. [461] White, T. I. "Festivitas, Utilitas, et Opes: The Concluding Irony and Philosophical Purpose of Thomas More's Utopia." Quincentennial Essays. 134-50. 3c. Literary Studies Utopia: Dialogue, Dialectic and Drama [462] Bevington, D. M. "The Dialogue in Utopia: Two Sides of the Question." SP 58 (1961): 496-509. Rpt. in More's Utopia And it's Critics. Ed. L. Gallagher. Chicago: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1964. 160-70. Rpt. as "The Divided Mind." Twentieth Century Interpretations of Utopia. Ed. W. Nelson. Englewood Cliff, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 76-87. [Summ.: W. 0. Harris, AES 5 (1962): 1744.] [463] Brtickmann, P. "In familiari colloquio: An Intervention in Utopia." Familiar Colloquy: Essays Presented to Arthur Edward Barker. Ed. P. Brtickmann. Ottawa, Ont.: Oberon Press (for U of Western Ontario), 1978. 9-14. [464] Campbell, W. E. "More's Utopia." See Utopia: Social and Political Philosophy. [465] Crossett, J. "More and Seneca." PQ 40 (1961): 577-80. [Summ.: J. B. Shipley, AES 5 (1962): 1366.] [466] Grace, D. "Utopia: A Dialectical Interpretation." Miscellanea Moreana. 273-302. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 160, 254-55.] [467] Schoeck, R. J. "`A Nursery of Correct and Useful Institutions': On Reading More's Utopia as Dialogue." Moreana 22 (1969): 19-32. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 281-89, 627-30. [468] Williamson, G. "Sir Thomas More's View of Drama." MLN 43 (1928): 294-96. See also Literary Studies, Humanism and Theology: Literary Dialogue. Utopia: Rhetoric, Fiction and Poetics [469] Altman, J. B. "Propedeutic for Drama: Questions as Fiction." See Utopia: More, Castiglione and Sidney. [470] Astell, A. W. "Rhetorical Strategy and the Fiction of Audience in More's Utopia." Centennial Review 29 (1985): 302-19. [On the parerga and on More's contemporary humanist audience.] [471] Davis, W. R. "Thomas More's Utopia as Fiction." Centennial Review 24 (1980): 249-68. [Utopia as a humanist fiction: "a new way, a hypothetical way, of thinking about life."] Thomas More Bibliography / 318 [472] Kinney, A. F. "Encomium Sapientiae: Thomas More and Utopia." Humanist Poetics: Thought, Rhetoric, and Fiction in Sixteenth-century England. Amherst, MA: U of Massachusetts P, 1986. 57-88, 461-68. [473] ^. Rhetoric and Poetic in Thomas More's Utopia. Malibu: Undena, 1979. [Rev.: E. McCutcheon, Moreana 69 (1981): 111-14.] [474] ^. "Rhetoric as Poetic: Humanist Fiction in the Renaissance." ELH 43 (1976): 413-43. [On Erasmus' Praise of Folly, More's Utopia and Gasciogne's The Adventures of Master F. J.] [475] New, P. Fiction and Purpose in Utopia, Rasselas, The Mill on the Floss and Women in Love. London: MacMillan, 1985. 12-82, 308-10. Utopia: Irony, Paradox, Humour and Satire [476] Barnes, W. G. "Irony and the English Apprehension of Renewal." Queens Quarterly 73 (1966): 357-76. [On irony in More's Utopia and Sidney's Apology.] [477] Fox, A. "Paradox Equivocation: The Self-Subversiveness of Thomas More's Utopia." Politics and Literature in the Reigns of Henry VII and Henry VIII. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1989. 92-107. [478] Heiserman, A. R. "Satire in the Utopia." PMLA 78 (1963): 163-74. [479] Kennedy, W. J. "The Style of Ironic Discourse: More's Utopia." Rhetorical Norms in Renaissance Literature. New Haven: Yale UP, 1978. 94-104, 211-12. [480] Rudat, W. E. H. "Classical Allusion and Dissociating Irony in More's Utopia." The Mutual Commerce: Masters of Classical Allusion in English and American Literature. Heidelberg: Winter, 1985. 49-58. [481] Wooden, W. W. "Anti-Scholastic Satire in Sir Thomas More's Utopia." SCJ 8:Supp. (1977): 29-45. [482] ^. "Satiric Strategy in More's Utopia: The Case of Raphael Hythloday." Renaissance Papers. 1977: 1-9. [483] ^. "Sir Thomas More, Satirist: A Study of the Utopia as Literary Satire." Diss. Vanderbilt U, Nashville, Tennessee, 1971. [DAI 32/2 (1971): 938A.] [484] ^. "The Wit of Thomas More's Utopia." Studies in the Humanities 7:2 (1979): 43-51. [485] ^. "Thomas More and Lucian: A Study in Satiric Influence and Technique." See Utopia and Lucian. Utopia: Latin Style [486] Fyfe, W. H. "Tacitus's Germania and More's Utopia." See Utopia: Homer, Herodotus, Thucydides and Tacitus. [487] McCutcheon, E. "Denying the Contrary: More's Use of Litotes in the Utopia." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 107-21. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 263-74, 623-5. Pp. 116-21 rpt. in Sir Thomas More: Utopia. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1975. 224-30. Rpt. 2nd rev. ed. 1992. 224-29. Thomas More Bibliography / 319 [488] ^. "The Language of Utopian Negation: Book II of More's Utopia." Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Bononiensis. 510-19. [489] Monsuez, R. "Le Latin de Thomas More dans Utopia." Annales publiees par la Faculte des lettres et sciences humaines de Toulouse ns 2/1. Caliban 3 (1966): 35-78. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 11 (1966): 91-92.] [490] Surtz, E. "Aspects of More's Latin Style in Utopia." SRen 14 (1967): 93-109. [491] ^ . "Appendix B: Vocabulary and Diction in Utopia." Utopia. Vol. 4 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. E. Surtz and J. H. Hexter. New Haven: Yale UP, 1965. 577-82. Utopia: Names in Utopia and the Utopian Language [492] Hermann, L. L'Utopien et le Lanternois. Les pseudonymes et les cryptogrammes francais de Thomas More et de Francois Rabelais. Paris: Nizet, 1981. [Rev.: E. McCutcheon, Moreana 73 (1982): 41-42; J. Voisine, RLC 57 (1983): 113-14.] [493] Picton, J. A. et al. "Sir Thomas More's 'Utopia.'" N&Q 77 (1888): 101-02, 229-31, 371. [Argument about the origins of the name 'Utopia': 'Eutopia' vs. 'Outopia'.] [494] Pons, E. "Les langues imaginaires dans le voyage utopique. Un precurseur: Thomas Morus." RLC 10 (1930): 589-607. [495] Romm, J. "More's Strategy of Naming in the Utopia." SCJ 20 (1991): 173-83. [Summ.: p.173.] [496] Schoeck, R. J. "Levels of Word-Play and Figurative Signification in More's Utopia." N&Q ns 1 (1954): 512-13. [On 'Abraxa' and 'Almost an Island: A Suggested Allegorical Interpretation.'] [497] Simmonds, J. D. "More's Use of Names in Book II of Utopia." Die Neueren Sprachen ns 10 (1961): 282-84. [Summ.: AES 5 (1962): 364. Repeats (without knowing the original source in the "Second Letter to Giles") the derivations given by More himself of the names in Book II of Utopia.] [498] Starnes, C. "Preface." The New Republic: A Commentary on Book I of More's Utopia Showing Its Relation to Plato's Republic. Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier UP, 1990. vii-xiii. [On the origins of the names syphogrant, tranibor and barzanes.] See also On More's Name, Coat of Arms, etc. Utopia: Utopian Chickens, Gold and Chamber Pots [499] Allen, W. "Some Remarks on Gold." Moreana 18 (1968): 5-6. [500] Billingsley, B. B. "A Mare's Nest: Pliny, Mandeville and Hythloday on the Incubation of Eggs." Moreana 67/68 [Thomas More Gazette 2] (1980): 80. [501] Derrett, J. D. M. "The Utopians' Stoic Chamber-Pots." Moreana 73 (1982): 75-76. [502] Doyle, C. C. "The Utopians' Therapeutic Chamber-Pots." Moreana 73 (1982): 75. [503] ^. "Utopia and the Proper Place of Gold: Classical Sources and Renaissance Analogues." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 47-49. Thomas More Bibliography / 320 [504] Renkle, M. "Did Utopian Chickens Dance?" Moreana 77 (1983): 35-38. [505] Williams, F. B. "Utopia's Chickens Come Home to Roost." Moreana 69 (1982): 77 - 78. 3d. Geography in Utopia Utopia: Arcadia, Enclosed Gardens, Cities, and Nature [506] Berger, H., Jr. "The Renaissance Imagination: Second World and Green World." Centennial Review 9 (1965): 36-78. Rpt. in Second World and Green World: Studies in Renaissance Fiction-Making. Intro. J. P. Lynch. Berkeley: U of California P, 1988. 3-40. Pp. 63-74 rpt. as "[Utopia: Game, Chart, or Prayer?]" Sir Thomas More: Utopia. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1975. 203-12. [507] Boewe, C. "Human Nature in More's Utopia." The Personalist 41 (1960): 303-09. [Summ.: C. Bingham, AES 4 (1961): 2216.] [508] D'Amico, J. "The Garden of King Utopus: Leisure in Utopia." Midwest Review [Pittsburg, KS] 26 (1985): 499-509. [On leisure, gardens, games and sports in More's Utopia and Elyot's Governor.] [509] Gury, J. "The Abolition of the Rural World in Utopia." Moreana 43/44 (1974): 67-69. [510] Levin, H. "[Utopia.]" The Myth of The Golden Age in the Renaissance. London: Faber & Faber, 1969. 89-93. [511] Rebhorn, W. A. "Thomas More's Enclosed Garden: Utopia and Renaissance Humanism." ELR 6 (1976): 140-55. [512] Sylvester, R. S. "Images of the City in Thomas More's Utopia." Les Cites au Temps de la Renaissance. Ed. M. T. Jones-Davies. Centre de Recherches Sur La Renaissance. Universite de Paris-Sorbonne: Institut de Recherches Sur Les Civilisations de l'Occident Moderne. Angers: Moreana, 1977. 191-205. [513] Wooden, W. W. "Utopia and Arcadia: An Approach to More's Utopia." College Literature 6 (1979): 30-40. Utopia: Geography and Maps [514] Derrett, J. D. M. "Gemistus Plethon, the Essenes, and More's Utopia." BHR 27 (1965): 597-606. [515] ^. "More's Utopia and Indians in Europe." Moreana 5 (1965): 17-18. [516] ^. "Thomas More and Joseph the Indian." Journal of the Royal Asiatic Society April, 1962: 18-34. [517] Freeman, J. "More's Place in 'No Place': The Self-Fashioning Transaction in Utopia." See More: Utopia, and Literary Theory. [518] ^. "A Model Territory: Enclosure in More's Utopia." The Territorial Rights of Nations and Peoples. Ed. J. R. Jacobson. New York: Edwin Mellen Press, 1989. 241-67. Thomas More Bibliography / 321 [519] Goodey, B. R. "Mapping Utopia: A Comment on the Geography of Sir Thomas More." The Geographical Review 60 (1970): 15-30. [520] Liljegren, S. B. Studies on the Origin and Early Tradition of Utopian Fiction. Uppsala Institute, Essays and Studies on English Language and Literature 23. Uppsala: A.-B. Lundequistska Bokhandeln; Copenhagen: Ejnar Munksgaard, 1961. [See M. A. Manzalaoui's review article: "Reflexions." On the relationship of More's Utopia to the contemporary European voyages of discovery.] [521] Manzalaoui, M. "More's Reference to the Syrians in Utopia, Book I," N&Q ns 10 (1963): 290-92. [Summ.: J. S. Phillipson, AES 6 (1963): 2560.] [522] ^. "Reflexions on Professor S. B. Liljegren's Studies on the Origin and Early Tradition of Utopian Fiction." Moreana 2 (1964): 37-50. [523] Margolin, J.-C. "Sur L'insularite d'Utopia: Entre L'erudition et la reverie." Miscellanea Moreana. 303-21. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 160, 255.] [524] Minattur, J. "More's Utopia and Kerala." Moreana 21 (1969): 39-43. [525] Murphy, C. M. "Ottoman Analogs to Utopia." Moreana 69 (1981): 65-75 + 73 (1982): 79. [526] ^. "The Turkish Threat and Thomas More's Utopia." Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Bononiensis. 158-71. [527] Parks, G. B. "More's Utopia and Geography." JEGP 37 (1938): 224-36. 3e. Utopia: Philosophy and Religion Utopia: Pleasure and Moral Philosophy [528] Jones, J. P. "The Philebus and the Philosophy of Pleasure in Thomas More's Utopia." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 61-69. [529] Kenyon, T. A. "The Problem of Freedom and Moral Behavior in Thomas More's Utopia." JHP 21 (1983): 349-73. [530] Lacombe, M.-M. "La sagesse d'Epicure dans l'Utopie de More." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 167-82. [531] Marc'hadour, G. "Utopian Epicureanism." Moreana 11 (1966): 69-71. [G. M. compares different translations of CW 4, 144/20-21.] [532] Moulakis, A. "Pride and the Meaning of Utopia." History of Political Thought 11 (1990): 241-56. [533] Surtz, E. "The Defense of Pleasure in More's Utopia." SP 46 (1949): 99-112. [534] White, T. I. "Pride and the Public Good: Thomas More's Use of Plato in Utopia." See Utopia and Plato. [535] ^. "The Key to Nowhere: Pride and Utopia." Interpreting Thomas More's Utopia. Ed. J. C. Olin. New York: Fordham UP, 1989. 37-60. [Sum.: C. M. Murphy, SCJ 22 (1991): 883; A. Rabil, Jr., Church History 61 (1992): 406. Essentially a reworking of White's earlier paper "Pride and the Public Good."] Thomas More Bibliography / 322 War and Peace in Utopia [536] Adams, R. P. The Better Part of Valor: More, Erasmus, Colet and Vives on Humanism, War, and Peace, 1496-1535. See General Studies of More's Works. [537] Avineri, S. "War and Slavery in More's Utopia." International Review of Social History 7 (1962): 260-90. [On twentieth-century views of Utopian warfare: mainly German and neo-Catholic ("dialogic") interpretations.] [538] Belgion, M. "'Disarmament' in the Sixteenth Century." DublinR 194 (1934): 1-15. [539] Caspari, F. "Sir Thomas More and Justum Bellum." Ethics 56 (1945/46): 303-08. [A critique of Oncken's views on Utopian warfare. See also S. Avineri's article.] [540] Dust, P. "Alberico Gentili's Commentaries on Utopian War." Moreana 37 (1973): 31-40. [On the comments on Utopian warfare in the De lure Belli of the Protestant, Italo-Anglo jurist, Alberico Gentili (1552-1608).] [541] ^. Three Renaissance Pacifists: Essays in the Theories of Erasmus, More and Vives. See General Studies of More's Works. [542] McCutcheon, E. "War Games in Utopia." The Portrayal of Life Stages in English Literature, 1500-1800: Infancy, Youth, Marriage, Aging, Death, Martyrdom. Essays in Honor of Warren Wooden. Ed. J. Watson, and P. McM. Pittman. Studies in British History 10. Lewiston, NY: The Edwin Mellon P, 1989. 29-56. [On warfare in Europe (Book I), and in the De re militari section of Book II.] Utopia: Social and Political Philosophy [543] Adams, R. P. "The Philosophic Unity of More's Utopia." SP 38 (1941): 45-65. [544] Allen, J. W. "[A Sad and Witty Book.]" A History of Political Thought in the Sixteenth Century. London: Methuen. 153-56. Rpt. in Sir Thomas More: Utopia. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1975. 220-24. Rpt. 2nd rev. ed. 1992. 220-23. [Rev.: Criterion 8 (1928/29): 563-64.] [545] Ames, R. Citizen More and his Utopia. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1949. [546] "A Social Optimist." TLS 27 Jul. 1917: 349-50, 369, 381-82, 393, 405. [Leading article + several letters.] [547] Bendemann, 0. Studie zur Staats- and Sozialauffassung des Thomas Morus. Berlin: 1929. [A rebuttal of Oncken's interpretation of Utopia.] [548] Campbell, M., "Introduction." The Utopia of Sir Thomas More. Toronto and New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1947. vii-xli. [On the historical background to the Utopia.] [549] Campbell, W. E. "More's Utopia." DublinR 185 (1929): 194-216. [A Catholic interpretation: Utopia as dialogue. More's Catholic social philosophy. Utopia as an embodiment of the three 'evangelical counsels', and as an attempt to regulate the desires for pleasure, property and power. See also "More's Utopia." in Erasmus, Tyndale and More. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1949. 79-96.] [550] ^ . More's Utopia and His Social Teaching. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1930. [Rev.: H. S. Bennett, RES 7 (1931): 465-66; P. Janelle, History 17 (1930): 265-66. A Catholic interpretation.] Thomas More Bibliography / 323 [551] Caspari, F. "Sir Thomas More." Humanism and the Social Order in Tudor England. New York: Teachers College P, 1954. 90-144. [552] Davis, J. C. "The Re-Emergence of Utopia: Sir Thomas More." Utopia and the Ideal Society: A Study of English Utopian Writing, 1516-1700. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1981. 41-61. [Rev.: C. Hill, London Review of Books 3:13 16 July 1981: 9-10. Reads Utopia as a straight-forward program. Misses all the complex ironies and playfulness of More's golden little book.] [553] Delcourt, M. "Le pouvoir du roi dans l'Utopie." Mélanges offerts a M. Abel Lefranc ... par ses Raves et ses amis. Paris: Droz, 1936. 101-12. [554] Duhamel, P. A. "Medievalism of More's Utopia." SP 52 (1955): 99-126. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 234-50, 616-20. [555] Grace, W. J. "The Conception of Society in More's Utopia." Thought 22 (1947): 283-96. [556] Hamilton, R. "More's Utopia: Its Bearing on Present Conditions." HibbertJ 44 (1945): 242-47. [Utopia and modern totalitarianism, and the need for decentralization.] [557] Hansot, E. "The Utopia of Thomas More." Perfection and Progress: Two Modes of Utopian Thought. Cambridge, MA: The MIT Press, 1974. 59-78. [Utopia as a 'thought experiment.'] [558] Kenyon, T. "Thomas More's Conception of the Human Condition." and "The Utopia of Moral Conduct." Utopian Communism and Political Thought in Early Modern England. London: Pinter Publishers, 1989. 39-117. [Studies More's and Gerrard Winstanley's (b.1609) views on communism. Analyses More's views on communism in Utopia in relation to More's `theology' as expressed in his polemical works.] [559] Logan, G. M. The Meaning of More's Utopia. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1983. [Rev.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 123; C. H. Miller, CHR 72 (1986): 87-88; A. L. Prescott, RenQ 37 (1984): 444-47; A. Prevost, Moreana 83/84 (1984): 145-50. A well-written but rather one dimensional study of More's indebtedness to the tradition of classical and mediaeval political speculation: De optimu statu reipublicae.] [560] . "The Argument of Utopia." Interpreting Thomas More's Utopia. Ed. J. C. Olin. New York: Fordham UP, 1989. 7-35. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 123; C. M. Murphy, SCJ 22 (1991): 883; A. Rabil, Jr., Church History 61 (1992): 406. On honestas and utilitas: on the conflict between rhetoric and philosophy in Utopia, Book I, and on Utopia as a 'best commonwealth exercise' and on Utopian moral philosophy.] [561] . "Introduction." Thomas More: Utopia. Ed. G. M. Logan and R. M. Adams. Cambridge Texts in the History of Political Thought. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. xi—xxx. [Summ.: C. M. Murphy, SCJ 22 (1991): 884-85. Incorporates material from "The Argument of Utopia."] [562] Mucchielli, R. "L'Utopie de Thomas Morus." Les Utopies a la Renaissance. Brussels: Presses Universitaires de Bruxelles, 1963. 99-106. [On Utopia and the Ideal City: the dialectic of utopia.] [563] Nendza, J. "Political Idealism in More's Utopia." Review of Politics 46 (1984): 428-51. [Summ.: p.428. On Utopian manners, education, institutions, crafts, family life, and government. On the defects of Utopia, and on More's intention.] Thomas More Bibliography / 324 [564] Oncken, H. "Die Utopie des T. Morus und das Machtproblem in der Staatslehre." Sitzungsberichte der Heidelberger Akademie der Wissenschaften Philosophisch-historische Klasse 13 (1922). 2 Abhandlung. [565] O'Sullivan, R. "Social Life and Theories of St. Thomas More." See Law and Politics. [566] Parker, T. M. "Sir Thomas More's Utopia." Essays in Modern English Church History in Memory of Norman Sykes. Ed. G. V. Bennett and J. D. Walsh. London: Adam & Charles Black, 1966. 1-17. [On reason as the basis of law in Utopia and in More's trial.] [567] Ritter, G. Machstaat und Utopie. Munich and Berlin: R. Oldenburg, 1940. Trans. by F. W. Pick as The Corrupting Influence of Power. Hadleigh, Essex: Tower Bridge Publications, 6th ed. 1952. Pp. 70-89 of trans. rpt. as "Utopia and Power Politics." Twentieth Century Interpretations of Utopia. Ed. W. Nelson. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 40-52. [A disciple of H. Oncken. First written when the Nazis were in power. See also Ritter's 1922 German translation of Utopia in Utopia: Other Translations.] [568] Sargent, L. T. "More's Utopia: An Interpretation of its Social Theory." History of Political Thought 5 (1984): 195-210. [A very poorly written paper. Repeats blindly and uncritically Greenblatt's diatribe against More.] [569] Stevens, R. G. "The New Republic in More's Utopia." Political Science Quarterly 84 (1969): 387-411. ['Church' and 'State', and toleration in Utopia: A modern liberal American interpretation.] [570] Suzuki, Y. "The Social Ideas of the Younger More." See Law and Politics. [571] Tsukada, T. "Thomas More as a Political Thinker and Actor for Reform." See Law and Politics. See also Utopia: General Studies, Utopia: More and Plato, Book I: Europe, the `Dialogue of Counsel,' and Reform, and Law and Politics. Utopia: Religion and Theology [572] Beumer, J. "La.Bt sich die Utopia des Thomas More `Okumenisch' deuten?" Theologie und Philosophie 41 (1966): 75-83. [573] Gleason, J. B. "Sun Worship in More's Utopia." Le Soleil a la Renaissance: sciences et mythes. Travaux de l'Institut pout l'Etude de la Renaissance et de l'Humanisme 2. Brussels: Presses Universitaires de Bruxelles; Paris: Presses Universitaires de France, 1965. 433-45. [Rev.: J. Jacques, Moreana 8 (1965): 83-88. On the sources of sun-worship in the Church Fathers and the Pseudo-Platonic Epinomis, which was accepted as being Platonic by almost all Renaissance writers.] [574] Halkin, L. "Mithra dans l'Utopie." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 157-60. [On Mithraism and the supreme god in Utopia.] [575] Marc'hadour, G. "Utopia and Martyrdom." Interpreting Thomas More's Utopia. Ed. J. C. Olin. New York: Fordham UP, 1989. 61-76. [Summ.: C. M. Murphy, SCJ 22 (1991): 884; A. Rabil, Jr., Church History 61 (1992): 406. On the Buthrescae, and the spirituality of work. And on 'witness' and martyrdom among Utopians and Christians.] [576] Miles, L. "The Platonic Source of Utopia's 'Minimum Religion.'" See Utopia and Plato. Thomas More Bibliography / 325 [577] Surtz, E. The Praise of Wisdom: A Commentary on the Religious and Moral Problems and Backgrounds of St. Thomas More's Utopia. Chicago: Loyola UP, 1957. [Rev.: English Studies 41 (1957): 331-33; E. F. Rice, Jr., ARG 57 (1960): 112-13; C. R. Thompson, RenN 12 (1959): 203-08.] Utopia: Suicide and Death [578] Belliard, P. "Thomas Moore et l'euthanasie." La Table Ronde 127/28 (Jul./Aug. 1958): 113-15. [Summ.: R. D. Jameson, AES 1 (1958): 1378.] [579] El-Gabalawy, S. "The Ars Moriendi in More's Utopia." Mosaic 11:4 (1978): 115-26. [580] Graziani, R. "Non-Utopian Euthanasia: An Italian Report, c. 1554." RenQ 22 (1969): 329-33. [Summ.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 26 (1970): 81.] [581] Green, P. D. "Suicide, Martyrdom, and Thomas More." See Dialogue of Comfort. [582] Maxcey, C. E. "Justice and Order: Martin Luther and Thomas More on the Death Penalty and Retribution." Moreana 79/80 (1983): 17-33. [On the Death-Penalty in Luther's writings, and in the Utopia and Dialogue of Comfort.] [583] Samaan, A. B. "Death and the Death-Penalty in More's Utopia and Some Utopian Novels." Moreana 90 (1986): 5-15. 3f. Utopia: Classical and Medieval Sources and Analogues Utopia: Athens and Sparta [584] Africa, T. W. "Thomas More and the Spartan Image." Historical Reflections 6 (1979): 343-52. [585] Schoeck, R. J. "More, Plutarch, and King Agis: Spartan History and the Meaning of Utopia." PQ 35 (1956): 366-75. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 275-80, 625-27. Utopia: Aristotle, Augustine, and Cicero [586] Marc'hadour, G. "Thomas More entre Aristote et Platon." Platon et Aristote a la Renaissance: XVIe colloque international de Tours. De Petrarque a Descartes 32. Paris: J. Vrin, 1976. 483-91. [587] McCutcheon, E. "More's Utopia and Cicero's Paradoxa Stoicorum." Moreana 86 (1985): 3-22. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118.] [588] Raitiere, M. N. "More's Utopia and The City of God." SRen 20 (1973): 144-69. [589] Wegemer, G. "Ciceronian Humanism in More's Utopia." Moreana 104 (1990): 5-26. [Summ.: (Eng. & Fr.), pp. 25-26; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118.] [590] ^. "The City of God in Thomas More's Utopia." Renascence 44 (1992): 115-35. [591] White, T. I. "Aristotle and Utopia." RenQ 29 (1976): 635-75. Thomas More Bibliography / 326 Utopia: Homer, Herodotus, Thucydides, and Tacitus [592] Baumann, U. "Herodotus, Aulus Gellius and Thomas More's Utopia." Moreana 77 (1983): 5-10. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118.] [593] Crossett, J. "More and Herodotus." N&Q ns 7 (1960): 366-67. [Summ.: J. S. Phillipson, AES 3 (1960): 2671.] [594] Dust, P. "Two Allusions to the Iliad in the Utopia." Moreana 98/99 (1988): 213-14. [595] Fyfe, W. H. "Tacitus's Germania and More's Utopia." Transactions of the Royal Society of Canada 3rd ser. 30 (1936), sec. 2: 57-59. Utopia and Lucian [596] Branham, R. B. "Utopian Laughter: Lucian and Thomas More." Moreana 86 (1986): 23-43. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118.] [597] Dorsch, T. S. "Sir Thomas More and Lucian: An Interpretation of Utopia." Archiv 203 (1967): 345-63. Pp. 349-63 rpt. as "A Detestable State." Twentieth Century Interpretations of Utopia. Ed. W. Nelson. Englewood Cliff, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 88-99. [598] Wooden, W. W. "Thomas More and Lucian: A Study in Satiric Influence and Technique." University of Mississippi: Studies in English 13 (1972): 44-57. See also Translations of Lucian. Utopia and Plato [599] Baker-Smith, D. "The Escape from the Cave: Thomas More and the Vision of Utopia." DQR 15 (1985): 148-61. Rpt. in Between Dream and Nature: Essays on Utopia and Dystopia. Ed. D. Baker-Smith and C. C. Barfoot. Costerus, ns 61. Amsterdam: Rodopi (DQR Studies in Literature 2), 1987. 5-19. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118. Rev.: Moreana 94 (1987): 74. On Plato, Ficino and Pico as background to Utopia.] [600] ^. Thomas More and Plato's Voyage: An Inaugural Lecture given on 1st June 1978 at University College Cardiff Cardiff: University College Cardiff P, 1978. [On Renaissance Platonism and Neo-Platonism as a background to Utopia: Plato, Valla, Pico, Ficino, Savonarola, and Erasmus' Moria.] [601] Barker, E. "[Sir Ernest Barker: Utopia and Plato's Republic.]" The Political Thought of Plato and Aristotle. London: Methuen, 1959. 526-29. Rpt. in Twentieth Century Interpretations of Utopia. Ed. W. Nelson. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice-Hall, 1968. 100-02. [602] Berger, L. "Thomas Morus and Plato: ein Beitrag zur Geschichte des Humanismus." Zeitschrift fir die gesarnte Staatswissenschaft 35 (1879): 187-216, 405-83. [603] Corrigan, K. "The Function of the Ideal in Plato's Republic and St. Thomas More's Utopia." Moreana 104 (1990): 27-49. [Summ.: (Eng. & Fr.) ibid., p.49; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 117. On Utopia, and Plato's Republic, and Erasmus' Praise of Folly (pp. 39-41).] [604] Dougherty, J. "Geometries of Perfection: Atlantis, Utopia and the City of the Sun." See Utopia: More, Bacon and Campanella. [605] Falke, R. "Thomas More—Imo, velut Plato." BAGB 4th ser. (1956), no. 2: 89-96. Thomas More Bibliography / 327 [606] Gleason, J. B. "Sun Worship in More's Utopia." See Utopia: Religion and Theology. [607] Gordon, W. M. "The Platonic Dramaturgy of Thomas More's Dialogues." See Literary Studies, Humanism and Theology: Literary Dialogue. [608] Gueguen, J. A. "Reading More's Utopia as a Criticism of Plato." Quincentennial Essays. 43-54. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 117-18.] [609] Jones, J. P. "The Philebus and the Philosophy of Pleasure in Thomas More's Utopia." See Utopia: Pleasure and Moral Philosophy. [610] Marc'hadour, G. "Thomas More entre Aristote et Platon." See Utopia: Aristotle, Augustine, and Cicero. [611] Miles, L. "The Platonic Source of Utopia's 'Minimum Religion.'" RenN 9 (1956): 83-90. [Plato's Laws and Republic as sources for Utopian religious practises.] [612] Neumann, H. "On the Platonism of More's Utopia." Social Research 30 (1966): 495-512. ['Character-More' speaks for the author.] [613] Opanasets, N. "More Platonism." See Utopia: Raphael Hythloday. [614] Schaeffer, J. D. "Socratic Method in More's Utopia." Moreana 69 (1981): 5-20. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118.] [615] Starnes, C. The New Republic: A Commentary on Book I of More's Utopia Showing Its Relation to Plato's Republic. Waterloo, Ont.: Wilfrid Laurier UP, 1990. [616] Steintrager, J. "Plato and More's Utopia." Social Research 36 (1969): 357-72. [On Plato's Republic and More's Utopia.] [617] Stevens, R. G. "On the Practicality of More's Utopia." Social Research 33 (1966): 30-46. [On property in Utopia and on Utopian communism.] [618] White, T. I. "Pride and the Public Good: Thomas More's Use of Plato in Utopia." JHP 20 (1982): 329-54. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118. Rev.: D. Bradshaw, Moreana 83/84 (1984): 51-53.] See also Utopia: Social and Political Philosophy. 3g. Utopia Through the Ages Utopia: More, Bacon and Campanella [619] Adams, R. P. "The Social Responsibilities of Science in Utopia, New Atlantis and After." JHI 10 (1949): 374-98. Rpt. in Renaissance Essays from the Journal of the History of Ideas. Ed. P. 0. Kristeller and P. P. Weiner. New York: Harper & Row, 1968. 137-61. [620] Albanese, D. "The New Atlantis and the Uses of Utopia." ELH 57 (1990): 503-28. [621] Bierman, J. "Science and Society in the New Atlantis and Other Renaissance Utopias." PMLA 78 (1963): 492-500. [On Bacon's New Atlantis, compared with More's Utopia, Campanella's City of the Sun, and Andreae's Christianopolis as background.] Thomas More Bibliography / 328 [622] Clarke, I. F. "From Space to Time: The Future is Another Place." Futures 22 (1990): 752-60 + 2 plates. [Summ.: p.752. On Bacon, Rabelais, and More as inventors of other worlds.] [623] Doeuff, M. Le. "Utopias: Scholarly." Trans. S. Rotenstreich. Social Research 49 (1982): 441-66. [On the importance of schools and education in More's Utopia, Bacon's New Atlantis and Campanella's City of the Sun.] [624] Dougherty, J. "Geometries of Perfection: Atlantis, Utopia and the City of the Sun." Soundings 69 (1986): 310-25. [On Campanella's City of the Sun, Plato's Critias and More's Utopia.] [625] Frietzsche, A. H. "The Impact of Applied Science Upon the Utopian Ideal." Brigham Young University Studies 3:3/4 (Spr./Summ. 1961): 35-42. [Summ.: W. E. Morris, AES 5 (1962): 2527.] Utopia: More, Castiglione and Sidney [626] Altman, J. B. "Propedeutic for Drama: Questions as Fiction." The Tudor Play of Mind: Rhetorical Inquiry and the Development of Elizabethan Drama. Berkeley: U of California P, 1978. 64-106. [On Castiglione's Courtier, More's Utopia, and Sidney's Arcadia. Draws heavily on W. Trimpi's "The Quality of Fiction: Rhetorical Transmission of Literary Theory," Traditio 30 (1974): 1-118.] [627] Barnes, W. G. "Irony and the English Apprehension of Renewal." See Utopia: Irony, Paradox, Humour and Satire. [628] Lanham, R. A. "More, Castiglione, and the Humanist Choice of Utopias." Acts of Interpretation: The Text in its Contexts, 700-1600. Essays on Medieval and Renaissance Literature in Honor of E. Talbot Donaldson. Ed. M. J. Carruthers and E. D. Kirk. Norman, OK: Pilgrim Books, 1982. 427-43. [Summ.: W. F. Pollard, SAC 6 (1984): 185. Naively identifies More with Hythloday throughout. Contrasted briefly with Castiglione (438-43).] Utopia: More and Erasmus [629] Adams, R. P. "Designs by More and Erasmus for a New Social Order." SP 42 (1945): 131-45. [On neo-Stoic elements in Erasmus and in More's Utopia.] [630] Berger, H., Jr. "Utopian Folly: Erasmus and More on the Perils of Misanthropy." ELR 12 (1982): 271-90. Rpt. in Second World and Green World: Studies in Renaissance Fiction-Making. Intro. J. P. Lynch. Berkeley: U of California P, 1988. 229-48. [Summ.: K. Schoening, Comitatus 20 (1989): 91. Folly and Hythloday as misanthropists.] [631] Corrigan, K. "The Function of the Ideal in Plato's Republic and St. Thomas More's Utopia." See Utopia and Plato. [632] Crofts, R. A. "Three Renaissance Expressions of Societal Responsibility: Thomas More, Desiderium [sic] Erasmus, and Thomas Mintzer." SCJ 3:2 (1972): 11-24. [More as conservative, Erasmus as liberal, and Mintzer as radical.] [633] Kinney, A. F. "Rhetoric as Poetic: Humanist Fiction in the Renaissance." See Utopia: Rhetoric, Fiction and Poetics. [634] Major, J. R. "The Renaissance Monarchy as Seen by Erasmus, More, Seyssel and Machiavelli." See Utopia: More, Machiavelli and Seyssel. Thomas More Bibliography / 329 [635] Olin, J. C. "Erasmus' Adagia and More's Utopia: In Memoriam Margaret Mann Phillips." Miscellanea Moreana. 127-36. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 156, 250.] [636] Patrides, C. A. "Erasmus and More: Dialogues with Reality." Kenyon Review ns 8 (1986): 34-48. Rpt. Figures in a Renaissance Context. Ed. C. J. Summers and T.-L. Pebworth. Ann Arbor, MI: U of Michigan P, 1989. 7-27. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 116. On the Praise of Folly and the Utopia.] Utopia: More, Machiavelli and Seyssel [637] Adams, R. M. "The Prince and the Phalanx." Sir Thomas More: Utopia. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1975. 192-203. [638] Di scipio, G. "De re militari in Machiavelli's Prince and More's Utopia." Moreana 77 (1983): 11-22. [639] Ellinger, G. "Thomas Morus und Machiavelli." Vierteljahrschrift fur Kultur und Literatur der Renaissance 2 (1887). [Cited in CW 4, 430.] [640] Harbison, E. H. "Machiavelli's Prince and More's Utopia." Rice Institute Pamphlets 44:3 (1957): 1-46. Rpt. in Facets of the Renaissance. Ed. W. H. Werkmeister. Evanston, NY: Harper and Row, 1963. 41-71. [641] Hexter, J. H. "Claude de Seyssel and Normal Politics in the Age of Machiavelli." Art, Science and History in the Renaissance. Ed. C. S. Singleton. Baltimore, MD: John Hopkins P, 1967. 389-415. Rev. vers. as "The Predatory, the Utopian, and the Constitutional Vision: Machiavelli, More, and Claude de Seyssel. La Monarchie de France and Normal Politics on the Eve of the Reformation." The Vision of Politics on the Eve of the Reformation: More, Machiavelli, and Seyssel. New York: Basic Books; London, Allen Lane, 1973. 204-30. [642] ^. "The Loom of Language and the Fabric of Imperatives: The Case of Il Principe and Utopia." AHR 69 (1964): 945-68. Rev. vers. as "The Predatory and the Utopian Vision: Machiavelli and More. The Loom of Language and the Fabric of Imperatives: The Case of Il Principe and Utopia." The Vision of Politics on the Eve of the Reformation: More, Machiavelli, and Seyssel. New York: Basic Books; London: Allen Lane, 1973. 179-202. [643] ^. The Vision of Politics on the Eve of the Reformation: More, Machiavelli, and Seyssel. New York: Basic Books; London: Allen Lane, 1973. [Rev.: See A. L. Rowse. Reprints various articles by Hexter, including his introduction to the Yale Edition of More's Utopia. Some chapters also listed separately.] [644] Major, J. R. "The Renaissance Monarchy as Seen by Erasmus, More, Seyssel and Machiavelli." Action and Conviction in Early Modern Europe. Ed. T. K. Rabb and J. E. Seigel. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1969. 17-31. [645] Paul, L. "Machiavelli and More." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 141-44. [Thomas Cromwell as Machiavellian; More ultimately more realistic than Machiavelli.] [646] Rowse, A. L. "Utopia versus Realism." Discoveries and Reviews: From Renaissance to Restoration. New York: MacMillan P, 1975. 140-44. [A "review" of Hexter's The Vision of Politics.] [647] Tinkler, J. F. "Praise and Advice: Rhetorical Approaches in More's Utopia and Machiavelli's The Prince." SCJ 19 (1988): 187-207. [Rev.: P. A. Marks, Moreana 98/99 (1988): 95-99.] Thomas More Bibliography / 330 Utopia: Elyot, Milton, Shakespeare, and Webster [648] Baker, D. "To Divulgate or Set Forth': Humanism and Heresy in Sir Thomas Elyot's The Book Named The Governor." SP 90 (1993): 46-57. [On The Book Named the Governor and More's Utopia.] [649] D'Amico, J. "The Garden of King Utopus: Leisure in Utopia." See Utopia: Arcadia, Enclosed Gardens, Cities and Nature. [650] Doyle, C. C. "John Webster's Echoes of More." Moreana 70 (1981): 49-52. [651] El-Gabalawy, S. "Christian Communism in Utopia, King Lear and Comas." UTQ 47 (1978): 228-38. [652] Evans, J. X. "Utopia on Prospero's Island." Moreana 69 (1981): 81-83. [653] Hibbard, G. R. "Sequestration 'into Atlantick and Eutopian polities': Milton on More." Ren&Ref ns 4 (1980): 209-25. [Mainly on Shakespeare and More.] [654] Merriam, T. "Did Shakespeare Model Camillo in The Winter's Tale on Sir Thomas More?" Moreana 75/76 (1982): 91-101. [655] Pineas, R. "Thomas More's Utopia and the 'Tragedy' of Polonius." Moreana 78 (1983): 23-24. See also Thomas More and Drama. Utopia: More and Rabelais [656] Clarke, I. F. "From Space to Time: The Future is Another Place." See Utopia: More, Bacon and Campanella. [657] Helgerson, R. "Inventing Noplace, or the Power of Negative Thinking." The Power of Forms in the English Renaissance. Ed. S. Greenblatt. Norman, OK: Pilgrim Books, 1982. 101-21. Also publ. in Genre 15 (1982): 101-21. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 122. On negation in More's Utopia and Rabelais' Gargantua and Pantagruel.] [658] Hermann, L. L'Utopien et le Lanternois. See Names in Utopia and the Utopian Language. Utopia: More and Swift [659] Donnelly, D. F. "Utopia and Gulliver's Travels: Another Perspective." Moreana 97 (1988): 115-24. [Gulliver's Travels as anti-utopian literature.] [660] Frietzsche, A. H. "The Impact of Applied Science Upon the Utopian Ideal." See Utopia: More, Bacon and Campanella. [661] Hammond, E. R. "Nature—Reason—Justice in Utopia and Gulliver's Travels." SEL 22 (1982): 445-68. [See also the same author's "In Praise of Wisdom and the Will of God: Erasmus' Praise of Folly and Swift's A Tale of a Tub." SP 80 (1983): 253-76.] [662] Mezciems, J. "The Unity of Swift's 'Voyage to Laputa': Structure as Meaning in Utopian Fiction." MLR 72 (1977): 1-21. [Book III of Gulliver's Travels is seen in the tradition of Utopian literature deriving from Plato, More and Rabelais. It is also a parody of Bacon's New Atlantis.] Thomas More Bibliography / 331 [663] ^. "Utopia and 'the Thing which is not': More, Swift, and Others Lying Idealists." UTQ 52 (1982): 40-62. [Includes a discussion of the conclusions of Utopia and Gulliver's Travels.] [664] Nourse, J. T. "The Rational Realms of More and Swift." A Christian Approach to Western Literature. Ed. A. A. Norton and J. T. Nourse. Westminster, MA: Newman P, 1961. 217-37. [On Utopia and Book IV of Gulliver's Travels: discusses uses of satiric techniques in both works.] [665] Traugott, J. "A Voyage to Nowhere with Thomas More and Jonathan Swift: Utopia and The Voyage to the Houyhnhnms." Sewanee Review 69 (1961): 534-65. Rpt. in Swift: A Collection of Critical Essays. Ed. E. Tuveson. Englewood Cliffs, NJ: Prentice Hall, 1964. 143-69. Utopia: More and Vives [666] Guy, A. "Vives socialiste et l'Utopie de More." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 263-79. Utopia, Spain, New Spain and America [667] Arciniegas, G. "Utopia: Protest and Illusion." America in Europe: A History of the New World in Reverse. Trans. G. Arciniegas and R. V. Arana. San Diego: Harcourt Bruce Jovanovich, 1986. 49-71, 269-73. [A rather fanciful and scattered essay on the influence of Vespucci's account on More, and on America as "Utopia."] [668] Bataillon, M. "Don Vasco de Quiroga utopien." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 385-94. [669] Beuchot, M. "PromociOn humana y Utopia en Don Vasco de Quiroga." Moreana 105 (1991): 43-54. [Summ.: M.-C. Rousseau (E./Fr.), p.54.] [670] Casas, Bartolome de las. The Spanish Colonie, or briefe chronicle of the acts and gestes of the Spaniardes in the West Indies. Trans. M. M. S. London: T. Dawson for W. Broome, 1583. Rpt. (The English Experience 859) Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1977. [Rpt. of STC 4739.] [671] Cave, A. A. "Thomas More and the New World." Albion 23 (1991): 209-29. [672] Estrada, F. L. "Las Utopias en el mundo hispanico." Moreana 105 (1991): 55-60. [Summ.: M.-C. Rousseau (E./Fr.), p.60.] [673] ^. "La Primera Version espariola de la Utopia de Moro, por Jer&limo Antonio de Medinilla (COrdoba, 1637)." Collected Studies in Honour of Am6rico Castro's Eightieth Year. Ed. M. P. Hornik. The Richard Kronstein Foundation for the Promotion of Jewish and Cognate Studies. Oxford: Lincombe Lodge Research Library, 1965. 291-309. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 10 (1966): 111-13.] [674] ^. "Santo Tomas Moro en Espana y en la America hispana." Moreana 5 (1965): 27-40. [Summ.: G. Marc'hadour (Fr.), p.40.] [675] ^. "Tomas Moro y El Brocense." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 395-400. [Summ.: G. Marc'hadour (Fr.), p.400. On references to More's Latin epigrams and to the Utopia by Francisco Sanchez de las Brozas (1523-1601).] [676] Jevons, H. S. "Contemporary Models of Sir Thomas More: Utopia and the Socialist Inca Empire." TLS 2 Nov. 1935: 692. [On parallels between Utopia and Peru.] Thomas More Bibliography / 332 [677] Hunt, L. "The First Spanish Translation of Utopia (1637)." Moreana 105 (1991): 21-41. [Summ.: M.-C. Rousseau (E./Fr.), p.39. On the translation by Medinilla of Book II only of the Utopia.] [678] Jones, R. 0. "Some Notes on More's Utopia in Spain." MLR 45 (1950): 478-82. [On the first Spanish translation of Utopia in 1637, and on the lack of earlier translations.] [679] Lietz, P. S. "More's Utopia in America." Catholic Lawyer 2 (1956): 340-49. [On the influence of More's Utopia on Vasco de Quiroga.] [680] Maravell, J. A. Utopia y reformismo en la Espaia de los Austrias. Madrid: Siglo XXI de Espana Editores, 1982. [Rev.: R. L. Kagan, RenQ 36 (1983): 631-32.] [681] Marc'hadour, G. "De Michoacan A Salamanque avec Silvio Zavala." Moreana 69 (1981): 118. Rpt. in S. Zavala, Recuerdo de Vasco de Quiroga. Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 2nd ed. 1987. 267-69. [682] Mechoulan, H. "Pedro Malferit, un detracteur du Confesionario de Las Casas." Moreana 42 (1974): 5-15. [683] Mesnard, P. "Bartolome de Las Casas (1474-1566) A. travers son quatrieme centenaire." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 401-30. [684] Morgan, A. E. "[Is Utopia an Account of the Inca Empire?]" Nowhere Was Somewhere: How History makes Utopias and how Utopias make History. Chapel Hill, NC: U of North Carolina P, 1946. 34-38. Rpt. in Sir Thomas More: Utopia. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1975. 230-33. [685] Strosetzki, C. "L'Utopie de Thomas More: Une reponse au debat sur le Nouveau Monde." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 5-24. [Summ.: (E./Fr.) p.23-24.] [686] Warren, F. B. Vasco de Quiroga and his Pueblo-Hospitals of Santa Fe. Washington, DC: Academy of American Franciscan History, 1963. [Rev.: M. A. Manzalaoui, Moreana 3 (1964): 83-94.] [687] Zavala, S. "Aspects de la litterature utopique en Espagne et en Amerique latine." Miscellanea Moreana. 363-73. [Summ.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 98/99 (1988): 161, 256.] [688] ^. "La Utopia de Tomas Moro en la Nueva Espana." in La Utopia de Tomes Moro en la Nueva Esparia y otros estudios. Con una IntroducciOn por G. Estrada. Biblioteca Historica Mexicana de Obras Ineditas 4. Mexico: Antigua Libreri'a Robredo, de J. Porrda e Hijos, 1937. v-ix, 1-29. Rev. vers. rpt. in Memoria de El Colegio Nacional [Mexico] 4:4 (1949): 49-78. Rpt. in Recuerdo de Vasco de Quiroga. Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 1965. 9-41 + 3 plates, 159-65. Rpt. Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 1987. 9-34, 129-33. [Sum.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 10 (1966): 87-88.] [689] ^. "L'Utopie realisee: Thomas More au Mexique." Annales, Economies. Soci6tes. Civilisations. 3rd ser. (1948): 1-8. Rpt. in Recuerdo de Vasco de Quiroga. Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 1965. 85-97 + 8 plates, 189-92 + 1 plate. Rpt. Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 1987. 71-79, 153-55. [Sum.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 10 (1966): 88.] [690] ^. "Nouvelles etudes sur Vasco de Quiroga." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 380-84. Thomas More Bibliography / 333 [691] ^. Recuerdo de Vasco de Quiroga. Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 1965. Rev. ed. rpt. Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 1987. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 10 (1966): 87-89; C. Lemarie, Moreana 101/102 (1990): 195-96. Reprints several articles on More's influence on Vasco de Quiroga. Some items also listed separately.] [692] ^. "SolOrzano Pereira (1648) et l'Utopie de More." Moreana 47/48 (1975): 15-20. Rpt. in Recuerdo de Vasco de Quiroga. Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 2nd ed. 1987. 205-210. [693] ^. "The American Utopia of the Sixteenth Century." HLQ 10 (1947): 337-47. Rev. vers. as "Sir Thomas More in New Spain: A Utopian Adventure of the Renaissance." Diamante 3. London: The Hispanic & Luso-Brazilian Councils, 1955. Rpt. in Recuerdo de Vasco de Quiroga. Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 1965. 99-116. Rpt. (Sepan Cuantos 546) Mexico: Editorial Porrda, 1987. 81-93. Rpt. as "Sir Thomas More in New Spain." in Essential Articles. 302-11, 631-32. [Sum.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 10 (1966): 88. On Vasco de Quiroga's Pueblo-Hospitals.] [694] ^. "Vasco de Quiroga, traducteur de l'Utopia." Moreana 69 (1981): 115-17. Rpt. in Recuerdo de Vasco de Quiroga. Mexico: Editorial Porrtia, 2nd ed. 1987. 261-65. See also More and Spain Utopia in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries [695] Anderegg, M. A. "Utopia and Early More Biography: Another View." See Early Biographers: General Studies. [696] Garavaglia, G.-P. "I Livellatori e l'Utopia." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 191-96. [Summ.: (Fr.) p.196. On the Utopian aims of the English Levellers (1640-1660).] [697] Greene, J. J. "Utopia and Early More Biography." See Early Biographers: General Studies. [698] McCutcheon, E. "More's Utopia as Commonplaced in Edward Pudsey's Tooke' (Circa 1600)." Moreana 103 (1990): 33-40. [On the emblematic and the sententious in Utopia as commonplaced by Edward Pudsey (1573-1613). Pudsey used Ralph Robynson's 2nd edition of 1556 as his source.] [699] Pineas, R. "Thomas More's Utopia and Protestant Polemics." See Polemical Works: General Studies. [700] Rude, D. W. "Some Unreported Seventeenth Century References to Sir Thomas More and Utopia." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 150-52. [On seventeenth-century references to Utopia associating it "with the world of heroic action and romantic love."] See also Moreana in the Sixteenth, Seventeenth, and Eighteenth Centuries. Utopia in the Eighteenth and Nineteenth Centuries [701] Dooley, P. K. "More's Utopia and the New World Utopias: Is the Good Life an Easy Life." Thought 60 (1985): 31-48. See also "Theory in Utopia vs. Practice in Utopias—An Invitation to Thought." Moreana 87/88 (1988): 57-60. [Comparison of More's Utopia and nineteenth-century American communitarian societies.] [702] Hornsby, S. "Utopia and Auburn." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 197-98. [On Utopia and Oliver Goldsmith's The Deserted Village.] Thomas More Bibliography / 334 [703] . "Lord Curzon on the Utopia: The Background Story of a Literary Find—Lord Curzon's Arnold Prize Essay of 1884 on Sir Thomas More." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 221-50. [An excerpt from the 242 page 1884 prize winning Arnold essay of the 25 year old George Nathaniel Curzon, future Viceroy of India in 1895-1905. ] [704] Reynolds, E. E. "Three Views of Utopia." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 209-14. [Reynolds examines the views of Frederick Seebohm (1833-1912) (The Oxford Reformers), John Richard Green (1837-1883) (A Short History of England), and Sir Sidney Lee (1859-1926) (D.N.B.)] Utopia and Some Modern Utopian Novels [705] Bertagnoni, M. "Ironia e pietas: Alcune coincidenze fra Utopia e I Promessi Sposi." Miscellanea Moreana. 235-43. [Summ.: (It./Fr./E.) trans. M.-P. Bataille, Moreana 98/99 (1988): 159, 253-54; C. M. M. and M.-P. B., Miscellanea Moreana. 241, 242-43. On some parallels between More and Manzoni.] [706] Desroche, H. "De Thomas More a Etienne Cabet." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 215-220. [On More's influence on Cabet's Voyage en Icarie.] [707] Samaan, A. B. "Death and the Death-Penalty in More's Utopia and Some Utopian Novels." See Utopia: Suicide and Death. [708] Seeber, H. U. "Thomas Morus' Utopia (1516) und Edward Bellamys Looking Backward (1888): Ein funktionsgeschichtlicher Vergleich." Utopieforschung: Interdisziplintire Studien zur neuzeitlichen Utopie. Ed. W. Voflkamp. 3 vols. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1982. 3: 357-77. 3h. Marxism and Literary Theory Utopia: Socialist and Marxist Interpretations [709] Dennis, N., and A. H. Halsey. "A Practical Utopia: Thomas More (1478-1535)." English Ethical Socialism: Thomas More to R. H. Tawney. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1988. 13-25. [Rev.: R. Rendal, Moreana 103 (1990): 85-86.] [710] Jameson, F. "Of Islands and Trenches: Naturalization and the Production of Utopian Discourse." Diacritics 7:2 (1977): 2-21. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 122. A rather banal Marxist analysis based on Marin's Utopiques.] [711] Kautsky, K. Thomas Morus und seine Utopia. Stuttgart: J. W. Dietz, 1888. Trans. by H. J. Stenning as Thomas More and His Utopia. London: Black; New York: International Library, 1927. Rpt. New York: Russell & Russell, 1959. Rpt. London: Lawrence and Wishart, 1979. [Rev.: TLS 9 June, 1927: 411.] [712] Kendrick, C. "More's Utopia and Uneven Development." Boundary 2 13 (1985): 233-66. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 122-23. A Marxist analysis—tedious and dreary.] [713] Marin, L. Utopiques, Jeux d'espaces. See More: Utopia, and Literary Theory. [714] Schwartz, P. "Imagining Socialism: Karl Kautsky and Thomas More." International Journal of Comparative Sociology 30 (1989): 44-56 [Summ.: p.44. On Kautsky's portrayal of More as a forerunner of modern socialism (and Hexter's portrayal of More as a proto- Enlightenment liberal.)] See also More: Utopia, and Literary Theory. Thomas More Bibliography / 335 More: Utopia, and Literary Theory [715] Bleich, D. "More's Utopia: Confessional Modes." American Imago 28 (1971): 24-52. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 42 (1974): 97-98. Crude Freudian debunking—shows no real understanding either of Freud or of More.] [716] Freeman, J. "More's Place in 'No Place': The Self-Fashioning Transaction in Utopia." TSLL 34 (1992): 197-217. [Summ.: Infotrac.] [717] ^. "A Model Territory: Enclosure in More's Utopia." See Utopia: Geography and Maps. [718] Greenblatt, S. "More, Role-Playing and Utopia." Yale Review ns 67 (1977/78): 517-36. Rev. vers. rpt. in Renaissance Self-Fashioning: From More to Shakespeare. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1980. 11-39. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 122-23.] [719] Helgerson, R. "Inventing Noplace, or the Power of Negative Thinking." See Utopia: More and Rabelais. [720] Hutchinson, S. "Mapping Utopias. SP 85 (1987): 170-85. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 122. On the contrast between imaginary utopias and ideal eutopias.] [721] Marin, L. "Toward a Semiotic of Utopia: Political and Fictional Discourse in Thomas More's Utopia." Structure, Consciousness, and Society. Ed. R. H. Brown, and S. M. Lyman. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1978. 261-82. [Summ.: R. H. Brown and S. M. Lyman, ibid., 261-62; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 122.] [722] ^. Utopiques, Jeux d'espaces. Paris: Editions de minuit, 1973. Trans. R. A. Vollrath. Utopics: Spatial Play. Atlantic Highlands, NJ: Humanities Press; London: MacMillan, 1984. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 122.] [723] Murphy, C. M. "Un aspect de 'difference' dans FUtopie de More: gangue' du livre I et `parole' du Livre II." Discours et utopie: strategies, litterature, philosophie, architecture. Ed. M. Remy. Autremont Dire 3/4 (1986-87). Nancy: Presses Universitaires de Nancy, 1987. 123-33. [A sensitive deconstructionist reading of Utopia by a reputable 'More scholar.'] [724] Prevost, A. "Les structures de l'Utopie de Thomas More, instrument d'analyse du phenomene humain." Discours et utopie: strategies, litterature, philosophie, architecture. Ed. M. Remy. Autremont Dire 3/4 (1986-87). Nancy: Presses Universitaires de Nancy, 1987. 135-48. [A structuralist? interpretation by an editor and translator of Utopia. Utopia as an initiatic journey: the inner Utopia and the communal Utopia.] [725] Reiss, T. "Utopia and Process: Text and Anti-text." Substance 8 (1974): 101-25. See also Utopia: Socialist and Marxist Interpretations. Utopia: Unpublished Dissertations [726] Meerse, P. G. "The Ideal of Order and the Process of Experience in More's Utopia." Diss. U of Illinois at Urbana-Champaign, 1972. [Directed by A. E. Barker.] [727] Nichol, J. "The Idea of the Natural Man in More's Utopia." M.A. Diss. U of Toronto, 1951. [Directed by A. E. Barker.] [728] Wegemer, G. B. "The Literary and Philosophic Design of Thomas More's Utopia." Diss. U of Notre Dame, 1986. [DAI 47/3 (1986) 917A.] Thomas More Bibliography / 336 Utopia: Unclassified Articles in German [729] Elias, N. "Thomas Morus' Staatskritik." Utopieforschung: Interdisziplinare Studien zur neuzeitlichen Utopie. Ed. W. VoBkamp. 3 vols. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1982. 2: 101-50. [730] Hexter, J. H. "Das `dritte Moment' der Utopia and seine Bedeutung." Utopieforschung: Interdisziplintire Studien zur neuzeitlichen Utopie. Ed. W. VoBkamp. 3 vols. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1982. 2: 151-67. [731] Honke, G. "Die Rezeption der Utopia im frilhen 16. Jahrhundert." Utopieforschung: Interdisziplinare Studien zur neuzeitlichen Utopie. Ed. W. Vollkamp. 3 vols. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1982. 2: 167-82. [732] Kytzler, B. "Zur neulateinischen Utopie." Utopieforschung: Interdisziplinare Studien zur neuzeitlichen Utopie. Ed. W. VoBkamp. 3 vols. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1982. 2: 197-209. [733] Miilk, U. "Philologische Bemerkungen Zu Thomas Morus' Utopia." Anglia 82 (1964): 309-20. [734] Sieber, M. "Realitat oder Utopie? Gedanken zur Zielsetzung der Kolonisation." Discordia Concors: Festgabe far Edgar Bonjour zu seinem siebzigsten Geburtstag an 21. August 1968. 2 vols. Basel and Stuttgart: Helbing & Lichtenhahn, 1968. 1: 107-20. [On the Portuguese and Spanish voyages of discovery and conquest as background to Utopia.] [735] VoBkamp, W. "Thomas Morus' Utopia: Zur Konstituierung eines gattungsgeschichtlichen Prototyps." Utopieforschung: Interdisziplinare Studien zur neuzeitlichen Utopie. Ed. W. Voakamp. 3 vols. Stuttgart: J. B. Metzler, 1982. 2: 183-96. [736] Wartburg, W. Von, "Die Utopia des Thomas Morus versuch einer Deutung." Discordia Concors: Festgabe fur Edgar Bonjour zu seinem siebzigsten Geburtstag an 21. August 1968. 2 vols. Basel and Stuttgart: Helbing & Lichtenhahn, 1968. 1: 63-106. Thomas More Bibliography / 337 A.4. POLEMICAL WORKS General Studies [737] Birch, D. Early Reformation English Polemics. Salzburg Studies in English Literature: Elizabethan and Renaissance Studies 92:7. Salzburg: Institut fur Anglistik and Amerikanistik, Universitat Salzburg, 1983. [738] Bradshaw, B. "The Controversial Sir Thomas More." JEH 36 (1985): 535-69. [Rev.: J. P. Marmion, Moreana 90 (1986): 57-59. An extremely astute analysis of the revisionist thesis of Elton, Guy and Fox. Began as a review article.] [739] Clebsch, W. A. "More's Latin Libelli," and "Thomas More, Defensor Fidei." England's Earliest Protestants, 1520-1535. New Haven: Yale UP, 1964. 32-36, 277-304. [Rev.: R. C. Marius, Moreana 6 (1965): 69-76. An extremely partisan and tendentious attack on More by an episcopalian church historian. See also M. Vertu, "Le chancelier sur la sellette."] [740] Elton, G. R. "The Real Thomas More?" Reformation Principle and Practice: Essays in Honour of Arthur Geoffrey Dickens. Ed. P. N. Brooks. London: Scolar P, 1980. 21-31. Rpt. in Psychological Medicine 10 (1980): 611-17. Rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies. 3: 344-55. Rpt. in Utopia: A Revised Translation, Backgrounds, Criticism. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 2nd rev. ed. 1992. 195-204. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 112-13. See B. Bradshaw's "The Controversial Sir Thomas More," for an excellent refutation of Elton's rather tendentious 'portrait' of More.] [741] . "[Thomas More.]" Gestalten der Kirchengeschichte, Reformation I. Ed. M. Greschat. Stuttgart: 1981: 89-103. Rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies. 3: 355-72. [In German, elaborates on "The Real Thomas More?"] [742] Fox, A. "Thomas More's Controversial Writings and His View of the Renaissance." Parergon 11 (1975): 41-48. [On More's sense of history in his controversial works and on his emphasis, unlike Erasmus, on continuity between the Middle Ages and the Renaissance.] [743] . "Thomas More's View of English Historical Experience in the Controversial Writings." Diss. U of Western Ontario, 1974. [Directed by A. E. Barker.] [744] Gairdner, J. "Sir Thomas More's Writings." Lollardry and the Reformation in England. 4 vols. London: MacMillan, 1908-13. Rpt. (Burt Franklin: Research and Source Work Series 84) New York: Burt Franklin, 1974. 1: 505-542. [745] Ganss, H. G. "Sir Thomas More and the Persecution of Heretics: An Historical Inquiry." American Catholic Quarterly Review 25 (1900): 531-48. [Still useful. Refutes the charges of Froude (and Foxe) against More. Details sixteenth-century Catholic and Protestant attitudes towards the punishment of heretics as background.] [746] Gogan, B. G. The Common Corps of Christendom: Ecclesiological Themes in the Writings of Sir Thomas More. See Eclesiology: More and the Church. [747] Gregory, T. S. "The Controversies of St. Thomas More." Under God and The Law: Papers Read to The Thomas More Society of London. Ed. R. O'Sullivan. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1949. 40-58. [748] Hutton, W. H. "The Religious Writings of Sir Thomas More." EHR 4 (1889): 667-83. [A balanced and fair-minded analysis of More's 'polemical works' by a non-Catholic. Still worth reading.] Thomas More Bibliography / 338 [749] Keen, R. "Thomas More and Geometry." See Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics. [750] Knox, R. "The Charge of Intolerance." The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. 33-50. [On More's attitude to the burning of heretics, and on the conclusion to the Dialogue Concerning Heresies.] [751] Krapp, G. P. The Rise of English Literary Prose. New York: Oxford UP, 1915. Rpt. New York: Frederick Ungar Publishing Co., 1963. 81-102. [Deals mainly with the Dialogue Concerning Heresies (83-90), Confutation (91-93), and Apology (94-96).] [752] Kronenberg, M. E. "A Printed Letter of the London Hanse Merchants (3 March 1526)." Publications of the Oxford Bibliographical Society ns 1 (1947): 25-32. [On a raid led by Sir Thomas More on the Hanse Steelyard in London, in search of Lutheran books.] [753] McLean, A. M. "`Detestynge Thabomynacyon': William Barlow, Thomas More and the Anglican Episcopacy." Moreana 49 (1976): 67-77. [754] Marius, R. "Henry VIII, Thomas More, and the Bishop of Rome." See Ecclesiology: More and the Church. [755] ^. "Thomas More's View of the Church." See Ecclesiology: More and the Church. [756] Pineas, R. "Erasmus and More: Some Contrasting Theological Opinions." RenN 13 (1960): 298-300. [Summ.: A. L. Soens, AES 4 (1961): 1683. Contrasts some of More's views on relics, celibacy, biblical translation, stated in his polemical works, with Erasmus' views.] [757] ^. "Thomas More as an Anti-Catholic Weapon in Protestant Polemics." Moreana 70 (1980): 45-48. [On the polemical use of More's death by George Joye, John Foxe, John Bale and others.] [758] ^. "A Response to Alistair Fox's Treatment of Thomas More as a Religious Polemicist." Moreana 82 (1984): 119-25. [A very cogent rebuttal of Fox's crudely psychohistorical account of More's intellectual development.] [759] ^. Thomas More and Tudor Polemics. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1968. [Rev.: F. Caspari, RenQ 25 (1972): 350-52; D. P. Harding, Moreana 25 (1970): 53-54; N. H. Sonne, AN&Q 6 (1968): 156-57.] [760] ^. "Thomas More's Use of Humor as a Weapon of Religious Controversy." See Humour and Wit. [761] Pineas, R. "Thomas More's Use of the Dialogue Form as a Weapon of Religious Controversy." See Literary Studies, Humanism and Theology: Literary Dialogue. [762] ^. "Thomas More's Utopia and Protestant Polemics." RenN 17 (1964): 197-201. [763] Pollen, J. H. "Johannes Cochlaus an KOnig Heinrich VIII von England and Thomas More." ROmische Quartalschrift 13 (1889): 43-49. [764] Schuster, L. A. "Reformation Polemic and Renaissance Values." Moreana 43/44 (1974): 47-54. [765] ^. "Thomas More's Polemical Career, 1523-33." in CW 8/3, 1135-268. Thomas More Bibliography / 339 [766] Seebohm, F. "Sir Thomas More and the Reformation." North British Review 30 (1859) (American Edition [New York: Leonard, Scott and Co., 1859] 25): 54-73. [W. H. Hutten ("The Religious Writings of Sir Thomas More") identifies Seebohm as the author. Both Hutton and Frank Sullivan Moreana, 1478-1945 give different page numbers. Uses More's correspondence and Stapleton and Roper's Lives to trace the development of More's attitude towards the Reformation: More was a reformer of the "Savonarola type", as opposed to Luther who was a revolutionary.] [767] Smelser, M. "The Political Philosophy of Sir Thomas More As Expressed in His Theological Controversies." St. Louis University Studies in Honor of St. Thomas Aquinas 1 (1943): 12-32. [An important summary of More's views on toleration, church-state relations, royal authority, international relations and the law as expressed in his polemical works.] [768] Sylvester, R. S. "Thomas More and 'The Further I Go, The More Behind.'" N&Q ns 9 (1962): 370-71. [Summ.: J. S. Phillipson, AES 6 (1963): 139. An English song quoted by More in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies and the Confutation.] [769] Trapp, J. B. London Review of Books 5:21 17 Nov. 1983: 15-17. [A "Review Article" in which Trapp sides with Fox and Elton on More as a "hunter of heretics."] [770] Tunstall, Cuthbert. "Licence for Sir Thomas More to keep and read heretical books, 7 March 1528." English Historical Documents, Vol. V. 1485-1558. Ed. C. H. Williams. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1967. 828-29. [Rogers #160.] [771] Vertu, M. "Le chancelier sur la sellette: More accuse par William A. Clebsch." Moreana 5 (1965): 107-14. [Trenchant criticism of Clebsch's treatment of More in England's Earliest Protestants.] [772] Wooden, W. W. "Thomas More in Hostile Hands: The English Image of More in Protestant Literature of the Renaissance." Moreana 75/76 (1982): 77-87. Responsio ad Lutherum Editions and Translations [773] Donnelly, G. J., ed. A Translation of St. Thomas More's Responsio ad Lutherum with an Introduction and Notes. A Dissertation. Washington, DC: Catholic U of America P, 1962. [Rev.: H. H. Herbrtiggen, RenN 18 (1965): 137-39; E. F. Rice, Jr., ARG 55 (1964): 274-75. A translation of Book I only.] [774] Headley, J. M., ed. Responsio ad Lutherum. Vol. 5 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Trans. S. Scholastica. 2 vols. New Haven: Yale UP, 1969. [Rev.: G. R. Elton, EHR 87 (1972): 182-83; D. Fenlon, JTS 24 (1973): 610-12; C. Garside, Jr., Moreana 33 (1972): 71-75; R. Pineas, RenQ 24 (1971): 85-77; H. C. Porter, N&Q ns 20 (1973): 395-76.] Selections [775] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "An Answer to Martin Luther." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 109-19. [An excerpt from Book I, Chapter 8 of the Responsio.] Thomas More Bibliography / 340 Studies [776] Baumann, U. "Logische Exempla and ihre Funktion in der Responsio ad Lutherum des Thomas Morus." Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Guelpherbytani. 563-72. [777] Headley, J. M. "More Against Luther on Law and the Magistrate." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 211-23. Rev. vers. rpt. in Responsio ad Lutherum. Vol. 5 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Trans. S. Scholastica. 2 vols. New Haven: Yale UP, 1969. 748-60. [Includes discussion of Luther's and More's views on equity.] [778] ^. "Thomas More and Luther's Revolt." ARG 60 (1969): 145-60. [Summ.: (Ger.), p.160.] [779] ^. "Thomas Murner, Thomas More, and the First Expression of More's Ecclesiology." SRen 14 (1967): 73-92. [On the 'H' gathering in the revised edition of the Responsio ad Lutherum. Also deals with Rogers #115 and #199.] [780] Marc'hadour, G. Rev. of Confrontation at Worms. by De L. Jensen. Moreana 46 (1975): 79-84. [Describes the use that More makes of a Lutheran report of the Diet of Worms in the Responsio and the Dialogue Concerning Heresies.] [781] McCutcheon, R. R. "The Responsio ad Lutherum: Thomas More's Inchoate Dialogue with Heresy." SCJ 22 (1991): 77-90. [Summ.: p.77.] Letter to Bugenhagen Editions [782] Manley, F., G. Marc'hadour, R. C. Marius, and C. H. Miller, eds. Letter to Bugenhagen, Supplication of Souls, Letter Against Frith. Vol. 7 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. xvii-lxiv, clx-clxi, 1-105. [Rev.: A. Rabil, Jr., Church History 61 (1992): 407-08; A. M. Young, SCJ 23 (1992): 630-32. Text and translation.] [783] Rogers, E. F., ed. The Correspondence of Sir Thomas More. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1947. 323-65. [Latin text: Rogers 143.] Studies [784] Bugenhagen, John. "Appendix A, John Bugenhagen's Epistola ad Anglos." Letter to Bugenhagen, Supplication of Souls, Letter Against Frith. Vol. 7 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. F. Manley et al. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. 393-405. [Text and translation.] [785] Crawford, C. W. "Thomas Stapleton and More's Letter to Bugenhagen." Moreana 19/20 (1968): 101-07 + 26 (1970): 5-16. [786] Rogers, E. F. "Sir Thomas More's Letter to Bugenhagen." The Modern Churchman 35 (1946): 350-60. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 447-54, 663-64. More vs. Tyndale (1528- 1533) [787] Chuilleanain, E. A. "The Debate Between Thomas More and William Tyndale, 1528-33: Ideas on Literature and Religion." JEH 39 (1988): 382-411. [788] Clark, J. A. "More and Tyndale as Prose Stylists: Finding Directions in A Dialogue of Comfort." See Dialogue of Comfort. Thomas More Bibliography / 341 [789] Egan, W. J. The Rule of Faith in St. Thomas More's Controversy with William Tyndale, 1528-1533. Los Angeles: Kellaway-Ide, 1960. [790] Fines, J. "An Unnoticed Tract of the Tyndale-More Dispute?" BIHR 42 (1969): 220-30. [791] Flesseman-van Leer, E. "The Controversy about Scripture and Tradition between Thomas More and William Tyndale." NAK ns 43 (1959): 143-64. [On the relationship between scripture and tradition in More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies and Confutation. and in Tyndale's Answer.] [792] . "The Controversy about Ecclesiology between Thomas More and William Tyndale." NAK ns 44 (1960): 65-86. [793] Ginsberg, D. "Ploughboys versus Prelates: Tyndale and More and the Politics of Biblical Translation." SCJ 19 (1988): 45-61. [A poorly written, vaguely "New Historicist", article. Quotes from More and Tyndale mostly taken from secondary sources. Some citations from More are given incorrectly.] [794] Hitchcock, J. "More and Tyndale's Controversy Over Revelation: A Test of the McLuhan Hypothesis." Journal of the American Academy of Religion 39 (1971): 448-66. [More's emphasis on consensus and oral tradition vs Tyndale's emphasis on the written word of the Bible.] [795] Holeczek, H. Humanistische Bibelphilologie als Reformproblem bei Erasmus von Rotterdam, Thomas More and William Tyndale. Studies in the History of Christian Thought 9. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1975. [Rev.: F. L. Borchardt, RenQ 29 (1976): 406-07; G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 57 (1978): 47-52.] [796] Horacek, B. J. "Thomas More's Concept of the Church in the Debate with William Tyndale." Diss. U. of Iowa, 1978. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 106/107 (1991): 185-88. Supervised by J. C. Spaldin.] [797] Marsh, T. N. "Humor and Invective in Early Tudor Polemic Prose." See Humour and Wit. [798] Milward, P. "A Judgement Judged—C. S. Lewis on the More-Tyndale Controversy." Moreana 64 (1980): 28-36. [799] Pineas, R. "Tyndale's Accusation of Forgery Against More." AN&Q 3 (1965): 68-69. [Barlow's Dialogue attributed to More by Tyndale.] [800] ^. "William Tyndale and More's 1529 Dialogue." Moreana 75/76 (1982): 57-58. [Some brief notes to the Dialogue of Heresies.] Dialogue Concerning Heresies Editions [801] Campbell, W. E., and A. W. Reed, eds. A Dialogue concerning Heresies and Matters of Religion made in 1528 by Sir Thomas More. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1927. Rpt. in EW 1931. Volume 2: The Dialogue Concerning Tyndale. [Rev.: R. W. Chambers, MLR 26 (1931): 464-66; R. B. McKerrow, RES 4 (1928): 352-54; A. F. Pollard, History 14 (1929): 72-74; TLS 1 Mar. 1928: 144. Includes a reproduction of the black letter text of the 1557 Folio, plus a modernized spelling version of the text, together with a substantial introductory essay and notes. Cited as "EW 1931, 2."] Thomas More Bibliography / 342 [802] Lawler, T. M. C., G. Marc'hadour, and R. C. Marius, eds. A Dialogue Concerning Heresies. Vol. 6 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Part 1: The Text, Part 2: Introduction, Commentary, Appendices, Glossary, Index. 2 vols. New Haven: Yale UP, 1981. [Rev.: N. Barker, TLS 25 Feb. 1983: 199; G. R. Elton, EHR 98 (1983): 152-55; W. M. Gordon, Moreana 75/76 (1982): 51-55; R. Pineas, RenQ 35 (1982): 617-18; J. B. Trapp, London Review of Books 5:21 17 Nov. 1983: 15-16.] [803] More, Sir Thomas. A dyaloge of syr T. More ... wherin be treatyd dyuers maters, as of the veneration & worshyp of ymagys.... London: W. Rastell, 1529. Rpt. (The English Experience 752) Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1975. [Reprint of STC 18084.] Selections [804] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. "A Dialogue." Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. 90-100. [An excerpt. Also contains short selections from the other English 'Polemical Works' (101-13).] [805] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "The Dialogue Concerning Heresies." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 196-216. [An excerpt.] [806] Nugent, E. M., ed. "Dialogue against Luther and Tyndale." in The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 433-45. Studies [807] Anderegg, M. A. "Nicholas Harpsfield, Thomas More, and William Roper's Lapse into Heresy." See Early Biographers: Nicholas Harpsfield. [808] Billingsley, D. B. "The Messenger and the Reader in Thomas More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies." SEL 24 (1984): 5-22. [809] Campbell, W. E. "More's Dialogue Concerning Tyndale." Erasmus, Tyndale and More. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1949. 124-54. [On the relationship between church and scripture in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and on More's attitudes towards Protestantism.] [810] ^. "The Dialogue of Blessed Thomas More." DublinR 179 (1926): 216-35. [Deals mainly with More's criticisms of Tyndale's translation of the New Testament.] [811] ^. "The Spirit and Doctrine of the Dialogue." in EW 1931. 2: [63]-[108]. [812] Devereux, E. J. "Thomas More's Textual Changes in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies." The Library 5th ser. 27 (1972): 233-35. [813] Dodds, M. H. "The Book of Proverbs in Literature." N&Q 179 (1940): 34. [Parallels in More, Henryson and Chaucer.] [814] Doyle, C. C. "Looking Behind Two Proverbs of More." Moreana 91/92 (1986): 33-35. [815] Fox, A. "Thomas More's Dialogue and the Book of the Tales of Caunterbury: 'Good Mother Wit' and Creative Imitation." Familiar Colloquy: Essays Presented to Arthur Edward Barker. Ed. P. Bruckmann. Ottawa, Ont.: Oberon Press (for U of Western Ontario), 1978. 15-24. [Echoes of Chaucer in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and the Confutation.] Thomas More Bibliography / 343 [816] Gairdner, J. "Appendix: Abstract of More's Dialogue." Lollardry and the Reformation in England. 4 vols. London: MacMillan, 1908-13. Rpt. (Burt Franklin: Research and Source Work Series 84) New York: Burt Franklin, 1974. 1: 543-78. [817] Gordon, W. M. "In Defense of More's Merry Tales." Moreana 38 (1973): 5-12. [818] ^. "The Argument of Comedy in Thomas More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies." Ren&Ref ns 4 (1980): 13-32. [819] Gow, E. "Thomas Bilney and His Relations with Sir Thomas More." Norfolk Archaeology 32 (1958-61): 292-310. [Gow draws on Foxe, Latimer and More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies for her account of Bilney.] [820] Johnson, I. "St. Thomas More and His Scots Friar." Innes Review 5 (1954): 78. [See also M. Sinclair, "Saint Thomas More's 'Good Scottish Frere.'"] [821] Kernan, G. "Saint Thomas More Theologian." Thought 17 (1942): 281-302. [On Justification and Predestination in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and on More's Patristic and Scholastic sources.] [822] Marc'hadour, G. "Fathers and Doctors of the Church." in CW 6/2, 526-535. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118.] [823] ^. "In hac lacrimarum valle: In This Valley of Tears." Moreana 78 (1983): 83-84. [824] ^. "Le miracle de la vie." Moreana 75/76 (1982): 125-32. [Rpts. CW 6, 78ff, with a French translation.] [825] ^. "Le miracle de Saint-Albans selon Thomas More et selon Shakespeare." L'Europe de la Renaissance: Cultures et Civilisations. Mélanges offerts a Marie-Therese Jones-Davies. Paris: Jean Touzot, 1988. 493-509. [On CW 6, 86-87, and 2 Hen VI II. i. 60-129. See also the same author's "Une dette de Shakespeare envers le Ore de Thomas More."] [826] ^. "The Devil and the Lombards: Two Merry Tales by Thomas More." Cithara 19:2 (1980): 5-19. [827] ^. "Une dette de Shakespeare envers le pere de Thomas More." Moreana 4 (1964): 76-87. [On the account of Duke Humphrey and the beggar of Saint Albans (CW 6, 86-87) quoted by Grafton and John Foxe and used by Shakespeare in 2 Hen VI II. i. 60-129. See also the same author's "Le miracle de Saint-Albans selon Thomas More et selon Shakespeare."] [828] Marc'hadour, G., and T. M. C. Lawler. "Scripture in the Dialogue." in CW 6/2, 494-526. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118.] [829] Marius, R. C. "Appendix C: The Sack of Rome." A Dialogue Concerning Heresies. Vol. 6 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. T. M. C. Lawler, G. Marc'hadour and R. C. Marius. 2 vols. New Haven: Yale UP, 1981. 771-77. [830] Mason, D. E., and R. J. Schoeck, "On More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies (1529)." Moreana 27/28 (1970): 129-31. [831] Miles, L. "Protestant Colet and Catholic More: A Study of Contrasts in the Use of Platonism." ATR 33 (1951): 30-42. [On Colet's Exposition of Romans and on More's treatment of The Image of Love in the Dialogue Concerning Tyndale.] Thomas More Bibliography / 344 [832] Minns, D. P. "Thomas More's Use of Scripture in The Dialogue Concerning Heresies." Thomas More: Essays on the Icon. Ed. D. Grace and B. Byron. Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1980. 71-88. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 118-19.] [833] Pope, H. "More v. Tyndale." DublinR 182 (1928): 13-31. [Review article of 1927 (rpt. in EW 1931, 2) edition of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies edited by Reed and Campbell. Emphasises its apologetic value.] [834] Reed, A. W. "Introduction," and "Punctuation, Spellings and Language." in EW 1931. 2: [1]-[10], [44]-[59]. [835] Scattergood, J. "Skelton and Heresy." Early Tudor England: Proceedings of the 1987 Harlaxton Symposium. Ed. D. Williams. Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell Press, 1989. 157-70. [Summ.: B. Lowe, SCJ 23 (1992): 844. On Skelton's last poem A Replycacion Agaynst Certayne Yong Scolers Abjured of Late and More's Dialogue Concerning Heresies.] [836] Reynolds, E. E. "Goodwin Sands: A Footnote to More." Moreana 30 (1971): 33. [837] Sinclair, M. "Saint Thomas More's 'Good Scottish Frere.'" Moreana 55/56 (1977): 53-54. [838] White, B. "The Three Editions of the Dialogue. A Collation." in EW 1931. 2: [11]-[43]. See also More vs. Tyndale (1528-1533), and Literary Studies, Humanism and Theology: Literary Dialogue. The Supplication of Souls Editions and Translations [839] Manley, F., G. Marc'hadour, R. C. Marius, and C. H. Miller, eds. Letter to Bugenhagen, Supplication of Souls, Letter Against Frith. Vol. 7 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. lxv-cxvii, clxi-clxviii, 107-228. [Rev.: See Letter to Bugenhagen for reviews.] [840] Marc'hadour, G., trans. "La Supplication des Ames." Saint Thomas More: Lettre a Dorp—La Supplication des Ames. Namur: Le Soleil Levant, 1962. 131-274. [Rev.: P. Mesnard, Moreana 1 (1963): 30-39. French translation.] [841] More, Sir Thomas. The supplycacyon of soulys, agaynst the supplycacion of beggars. London: W. Rastell, 1529. Rpt. (The English Experience 353) Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1971. [Reprint of STC 18092.] [842] Morris, E., ed. The Supplication of Souls by Thomas More. His Reply to the Supplication of Beggars by Simon Fish. A Transcription from Black Letter. London: Primary Publications, 1970. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 26 (1970): 69-72. An unreliable transcription.] [843] Thecla [Smith], Sr. M., ed. Thomas More: The Supplication of Souls. Westminster, MD: Newman P, 1950. Selections [844] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "The Supplication of Souls." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 216-20. [An excerpt.] Thomas More Bibliography / 345 [845] Nugent, E. M., ed. "The Supplication of Souls." in The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 225-34. Studies [846] Campbell, W. E. "More's Supplication of Souls." DublinR 216 (1945): 1-8. Rev. vers. in "The Supplication of Souls." Erasmus. Tyndale and More. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1949. 155-74. [A good summary.] [847] Fleissner, R. F. "Hamlet and The Supplication of Souls Reconvened." N&Q ns 32 (1985): 120-21. [848] Gabrieli, V. "Hamlet and The Supplication of Souls." N&Q ns 26 (1979): 120-21. [849] Haas, S. W. "Simon Fish, William Tyndale, and Sir Thomas More's 'Lutheran Conspiracy.'" JEH 23 (1972): 125-36. [Deals with Simon Fish's A Supplication for the Beggars and More's The Supplication of Souls.] [850] Keen, R. "Appendix E: The Printer's Copy for the Supplication of Souls in the 1557 English Works." Letter to Bugenhagen, Supplication of Souls, Letter Against Frith. Vol. 7 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. F. Manley et al. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. 455-81. [851] Pineas, R. "Thomas More's Controversy with Simon Fish." SEL 7 (1967): 15-28. [On Fish's Supplication for the Beggars, More's Supplication of Souls and the Richard Hunne Case.] Confutation of Tyndale's Answer Editions [852] Schuster, L. A., R. C. Marius, J. P. Lusardi, and R. J. Schoeck, eds. The Confutation of Tyndale's Answer. Vol. 8 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. 3 vols. New Haven: Yale UP, 1973. [Rev.: H. W. Donner, Moreana 39 (1973): 51-56; G. R. Elton, EHR 89 (1974): 382-87 (Rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies. 3: 444-50); G. Marc'hadour, Studia Neophilologica 47 (1975): 157-68.] Studies [853] Campbell, W. E. "More's Supposed Cruelty to Heretics and His Confutation." Erasmus, Tyndale and More. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode, 1949. 208-26. [Consists mainly of extracts from the Confutation, plus a brief note on the Apology.] [854] . "Sir Thomas More's Longest Book." DublinR 223 (1949): 119-26. [855] Doyle, C. C. "Lenten Fare and the Language of Falsehood: Pig and Pike, Fish and Fowl." Quincentennial Essays. 27-34. [Analysis of More's use of some merry tales in the Confutation.] [856] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "The Confutation of Tyndale's Answer." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 220-23. [An excerpt.] [857] Hardin, R. F. "Caricature in More's Confutation." Moreana 93 (1987): 41-52. [Sebastian Brant, Cranach and Thomas Murner as sources or analogues for More's use of caricature in the Confutation.] Thomas More Bibliography / 346 [858] Marius, R. C. "Thomas More and the Early Church Fathers." Traditio 24 (1968): 379-407. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 402-20, 651-58. [On More's use of Patristic sources in the Confutation.] [859] ^. "The Pseudonymous Patristic Text in Thomas More's Confutation." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 253-66. [On More's use of the Pseudo-Cyprian Sermo de ablutione, the Pseudo-Augustine De vera et falsa poenitentia, the Pseudo-Dionysus, the Pseudo-Chrysostom Opus imperfectum and on Origen.] [860] Martz, L. L. "More as Author: The Virtues of Digression." Moreana 62 (1979): 105-19. Rev. vers. as "The Order of the Heart." Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. 29-51, 106-07. [On repetition and digression in the Confutation, the Treatise on the Passion, and the De tristitia. Martz sees More's use of indirection and exploratory digressions as very Augustinian.] [861] Murray, F. "The Holy Spirit in St. Thomas More's Confutation of Tyndale's Answer." ClergyR 62 (1977): 388-92. See also More vs. Tyndale (1528-1533). Letter to Frith Editions [862] Manley, F., G. Marc'hadour, R. C. Marius, and C. H. Miller, eds. Letter to Bugenhagen, Supplication of Souls, Letter Against Frith. Vol. 7 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. cxviii-clix, clxviii-clxx, 229-58. [Rev.: See Letter to Bugenhagen for reviews.] [863] Rogers, E. F., ed. The Correspondence of Sir Thomas More. Princeton: Princeton UP, 1947. 439-64. [Latin text: Rogers #190.] Studies [864] Gordon, W. M. "A Needle in a Meadow: A Missing Reference in the More-Frith Controversy." Moreana 52 (1976): 18-22. [865] ^. "A Scholastic Problem in Thomas More's Controversy with John Frith." HTR 69 (1976): 131-49. [866] Schoeck, R. J. "The Chronica Cronicarum of Sir Thomas More and Tudor Historians." BIHR 35 (1962): 84-86. [Referred to in the Letter to Frith and the Debellation. Identified as the Liber Cronicarum (1493) of Hatmann Schedel.] [867] ^. "The Price of 'A Goodly Auncyent Prynted Boke' in 1556: A Note on the Cronica Cronicarum." N&Q ns 7 (1960): 371. [Summ.: J. S. Phillipson, AES 3 (1960): 2675.] Apology Editions [868] Taft, A. I., ed. The Apologye of Syr Thomas More, Knyght. Early English Text Society 180. London: Humphrey Milford, 1930. [Rev.: H. S. Bennett, RES 7 (1931): 466-67; R. W. Chambers, MLR 26 (1931): 464-67.] Thomas More Bibliography / 347 [869] More, Sir Thomas. The apologye of Syr T. More. London: W. Rastell, 1533. Rpt. (The English Experience 228) Amsterdam: Theatrum Orbis Terrarum, 1970. [Rpt. of STC 18078.] [870] Trapp, J. B., ed. The Apology. Vol. 9 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1979. [Rev.: N. Barker, TLS 25 Feb. 1983: 199; G. R. Elton, EHR 95 (1980): 367-69 (Rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies. 3: 450-54); J. M. McConica, RenQ 34 (1981): 262-64; J. Mezciems, N&Q ns 27 (1980): 361-62; A. W. Wright, JTS 31 (1980): 252-53.] Selections [871] Barry. C. J., ed. "Sir Thomas More: The Apology, Easter, 1533." The Reformation and the Absolute States, 1517-1789. Vol. 2 of Readings in Church History. 3 vols. Westminster, MA: Newman P, 1965. 2: 60-68. [A short excerpt from The Apology.] [872] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "The Apology of Sir Thomas More." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 223-36. [An excerpt.] [873] Nugent, E. M., ed. "The Apology of Sir Thomas More, Knight." in The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 234-44. Studies [874] Guy, J. A. "Thomas More and Christopher St. Germain: The Battle of the Books." Moreana 83/84 (1984): 5-25. Rev. vers. in Reassessing the Henrician Age: Humanism, Politics, and Reform 1500-1550. By A. Fox and J. Guy. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1986. 95-120 [On the Apology and the Debellation. For further discussion on More and St. Germain, see the other essays by John Guy in Reassessing the Henrician Age.] [875] Oakley, F. "More, St. German, Gerson and Pseudo-Chrysostom on Matthew xxi, 12." N&Q ns 10 (1963): 292-93. [Summ.: J. S. Phillipson, AES 6 (1963): 2561.] [876] Pineas, R. "Sir Thomas More's Controversy with Christopher Saint-German." SEL 1 (1961): 49-62. [Summ.: M. F. Orth, AES 4 (1961): 990.] [877] Schoeck, R. J. "The Meaning of Ex Officio in the Sixteenth Century." N&Q ns 7 (1960): 365-66. [Summ.: J. S. Phillipson, AES 3 (1960): 2670. On references to ex officio in More's Apology and Debellation, and in Christopher St. Germain.] [878] . "The Use of St. John Chrysostom in Sixteenth Century Controversy: Christopher St. German and Sir Thomas More in 1533." HTR 54 (1961): 21-27. [On More's and St. Germain's use of the Pseudo-Chrysostom Opus imperfectum, via the Catena Aurea and Gerson.] Debellation of Salem and Bizance Editions [879] Guy, J., R. Keen, C. Miller, and R. McGugan, eds. The Debellation of Salem and Bizance. Vol. 10 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1987. [Rev.: D. G. Danner, Church History 59 (1990): 241-42; A. Fox, CHR 76 (1990): 848-50; J. B. Trapp, Moreana 98/99 (1988): 77-83.] Thomas More Bibliography / 348 Studies [880] Marc'hadour, G. "From Tudor More, via French, to Modern More." Moreana 11 (1966): 73. [On a mistranslation of a passage in the Debellation (EW 1557, 995C) via French into modern English.] [881] Schoeck, R. J. "The Chronica Cronicarum of Sir Thomas More and Tudor Historians." See The Letter to Frith. See also The Apology. Answer to a Poisoned Book Editions [882] Foley, S. M., and C. H. Miller, ed. The Answer to a Poisoned Book. Vol. 11 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1985. [Rev.: R. Pineas, RenQ 40 (1987): 116-18. See also W. M. Gordon's "The Answer to a Poisoned Book."] Studies [883] Foley, S. M., and C. H. Miller. "The Shape of the Eucharistic Controversy." The Answer to a Poisoned Book. Vol. 11 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1985. xvii-lxi. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 115.] [884] Gordon, W. M. "The Answer to a Poisoned Book." Moreana 95/96 (1987): 27-37. [Summ.: C. H. Miller, p.37. A "review article." On the patristic roots of More's eucharistic theology in The Answer.] [885] Pineas, R. "George Joye's Controversy with Thomas More." Moreana 38 (1973): 27-36. [886] . "Polemical Technique in Thomas More's The Answere to ... the Poysened Booke." Miscellanea Moreana. 385-93. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 162, 257.] A.5. THE TOWER WORKS General Studies [887] Cavanaugh, J. R. "The Saint Stephen Motif in Saint Thomas More's Thought." Moreana 8 (1965): 59-66. [Reference's to St. Stephen in the Dialogue Concerning Heresies, Dialogue of Comfort, and More's 'Prison Letters' and Trial.] [888] Haupt, G. E. "The Personal and the Impersonal in the Late Works of Sir Thomas More." Interpretations: Studies in Language and Literature [Memphis] 6 (1974): 14-23. [An important but neglected article, touches on an integral aspect of More's character and writing.] [889] Kirchberger, C. "Bodleian Manuscripts Relating to the Spiritual Life, 1500-1750." Bodleian Library Record 3 (1950/51): 155-64, esp., 161-62. [On three Bodleian manuscripts containing works of More.] [890] Martz, L. L. "Thomas More: The Tower Works." St. Thomas More: Action and Contemplation. Ed. R. S. Sylvester. New Haven: Yale UP (for St. John's University), 1972. 59-83. Thomas More Bibliography / 349 [891] Miller, C. H. "A Vatican Manuscript Containing Three Brief Works by St. Thomas More." Moreana 26 (1970): 41-44. [More's Epitaph, Letter to Bonvisi, and a short essay from the Valencia manuscript of the De tristitia.] [892] Schuster, L. A. "The Tower of London: More's Gethsemane." Moreana 74 (1982): 39-45. [893] Thecla [Smith], Sr. M. "S. Thomas More and the Catena Aurea." MLN 61 (1946): 523-29. See also Spirituality. The Dialogue of Comfort Editions [894] Martz, L. L. and F. Manley, eds. A Dialogue of Comfort. Vol. 12 of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. [Rev.: G. R. Elton, EHR 93 (1978): 399-404 (rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies. 3: 454-60); D. Fenlon, JTS 30 (1979): 366-71; J. P. Jones, Moreana 55/56 (1977): 123-28; L. Miles, RenQ 31 (1978): 636-40; E. E. Reynolds, Moreana 54 (1977): 63-73.] [895] Warrington, J., ed. "A Dialogue of Comfort." More's Utopia and A Dialogue of Comfort. Everyman's Library 461. London: Dent, 1910. Rev. ed. with modernized spelling, 1951. 143-423. [Based on the 1553 Tottel Edition.] The Dialogue of Comfort: Modernizations and Translations [896] Castelli, A., trans. II Diologo del Conforto nelle tribulazione. Rome: Editrice Studium, 1970. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 29 (1971): 83-91. Italian translation.] [897] Hallett, P. E., ed. A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation. London: Burns Oaths & Washbourne, 1937. [A modernized version.] [898] Manley, F., ed. The Dialogue of Comfort. Selected Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1977. [Rev.: B. Basset, Moreana 61 (1979): 19-20. Modernized spelling version.] [899] Miles, L., ed. A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation. Hardcover Edition. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1965. [Rev.: F. Manley, RenQ 20 (1967): 252-53; R. Pineas, Moreana 11 (1966): 52-54. An abridged (omits about twenty percent) and modernized text. Hardcover edition contains an extensive fourty page bibliography and a hundred page introduction. The paperback edition of the same year omits most of the introduction and bibliography.] [900] Stevens, M., ed. Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation. London: Sheed & Ward, 1951. [Modernized spelling. Based on Everyman edition.] [901] Warrington, J., ed. "A Dialogue of Comfort." See Dialogue of Comfort: Editions. The Dialogue of Comfort: Selections [902] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. "A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation." Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. 114-51. [An substantial series of excerpts.] [903] Goudge, E., ed. A Book of Comfort. New York: Coward-McCann, 1964. 237. [Two brief extracts from the De tristitia, and the Dialogue of Comfort.] Thomas More Bibliography / 350 [904] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "From The Dialogue of Comfort." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 236-42. [An excerpt.] [905] "How the Affections are Implanted." The Way 1 (1961): 231. [A brief excerpt from A Dialogue of Comfort, Book 3, Chap.xxi.] [906] Nugent, E. M., ed. "Dialogue of Comfort against Tribulation." in The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 445-49. [An excerpt from Book III, Chap.xix.] Dialogue of Comfort: Studies [907] Arbesmann, R. "The Concept of Christus Medicus in St. Augustine." Traditio 10 (1954): 1-28. [Important background for More's use of medical imagery in the Dialogue of Comfort.] [908] ^. "The Daemonium Meridianum and Greek and Latin Patristic Exegesis." Traditio 14 (1958): 17-31. [Important background for More's use of Psalm 90 in the Dialogue of Comfort.] [909] Bertagnoni, M. "Discordia concors: Utopia e it Dialogo del conforto." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 183-90. [910] Billingley, D. B. "'Imagination' in A Dialogue of Comfort." Moreana 74 (1982): 57-63. [911] ^. "'Resources of Kind' in A Dialogue of Comfort." Moreana 74 (1982): 64-68. [912] Byron, B. F. "Through a Needle's Eye: Thomas More the Wealthy Saint." Thomas More: Essays on the Icon. Ed. D. Grace and B. Byron. Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1980. 53-69. [913] Celestine, Sr. "Thomas More and Dialogue." Wisconsin Studies in Literature [Wisconsin Council of Teachers: Oshkosh] 2 (1965): 1-10. [Summ.: T. H., AES 13 (1969/70): 782.] [914] Clark, J. A. "More and Tyndale as Prose Stylists: Finding Directions in A Dialogue of Comfort and The Practise of Prelates." Moreana 82 (1984): 5-17. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 116-17.] [915] Finan, T. "Some More Comforts: More and the Consolatory Tradition." Irish Theological Quarterly 45 (1978): 205-16. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 74 (1982): 38.] [916] Gordon, W. M. "Suicide in Thomas More's Dialogue of Comfort." American Benedictine Review 29 (1978): 358-70. [917] ^. "The Ominous Play of Children: Thomas More's Adaptation of an Image from Antiquity." JWCI 47 (1984): 204-05. [918] Gray, D. "Books of Comfort." Medieval English Religious Literature: Essays in Honour of G. H. Russell. Ed. G. Kratzman and J. Simpson. Woodbridge, Suffolk: Boydell and Brewer, 1986. 209-21. [On medieval forerunners of More's Dialogue of Comfort.] [919] Green, P. D. "Suicide, Martyrdom, and Thomas More." SRen 19 (1972): 135-55. [On the Utopia and the Dialogue of Comfort.] [920] Hanna, R. III. "Two New Texts of More's Dialogue of Comfort. Ricardo Sylvester, magistro et amico." Moreana 74 (1982): 5-11. [On MSS. British Library Harley 1634, and Glasgow University Library Hunter V.2.19, both overlooked by the editors of the Yale Edition.] [921] Khanna, L. C. "Truth and Fiction in A Dialogue of Comfort." Moreana 65 (1980): 57-66. Thomas More Bibliography / 351 [922] Kuhn, J. "The Function of Psalm 90 in Thomas More's A Dialogue of Comfort." Moreana 22 (1969): 61-67. [923] McCutcheon, E. "'This Prison of the Yerth': The Topos of Immurement in the Writings of St. Thomas More." Cithara 25:1 (1985): 37-46. Earlier vers. in Thomas-Morus-Jahrbuch 1984/85. Ed. H. Boventer. Dusseldorf: Triltsch, 1985. 127-32. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 114. On epigram CW 3/2 #119, The Four Last Things. and the Dialogue of Comfort.] [924] Manzalaoui, M. "'Syria' in the Dialogue of Comfort." Moreana 8 (1965): 21-27. [925] Martz, L. L. "The Design of More's Dialogue of Comfort." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 331-46. Rpt. with changes in A Dialogue of Comfort. Vol. 12 of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. L. L. Martz and F. Manley. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. lxv-lxxix. Rev. vers. as "Last Letters and A Dialogue of Comfort." Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. 64-82, 107-08. [926] Maxcey, C. E. "Justice and Order: Martin Luther and Thomas More on the Death Penalty and Retribution." See Utopia: Suicide and Death. [927] Meulon, H. "Thomas More et la souffrance." Moreana 37 (1973): 53-60. [On suffering in the Dialogue of Comfort and in More's 'Prison Letters.'] [928] Miles, L. "A Dialogue of Comfort Bibliography: Materials for a Further Study of the Work." A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation. Ed. L. Miles. Hardcover Edition. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1965. 261-301. [The paperback edition has "A Selected Dialogue of Comfort Bibliography," 261-69.] [929] ^. "Boethius and Thomas More's Dialogue of Comfort." ELN 3 (1965/66): 97-101. [930] ^. "Introduction." A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation. Ed. L. Miles. Hardcover Edition. Bloomington: Indiana UP, 1965. ix-cxi. [The paperback edition omits most of the introduction.] [931] ^. "More's Dialogue of Comfort as a First Draft." SP 63 (1966): 126-34. [932] ^. "Patristic Comforters in More's Dialogue of Comfort." Moreana 8 (1965): 9-20. [933] ^. "Persecution and the Dialogue of Comfort: A Fresh Look at the Charges Against Thomas More." JBS 5:1 (1965): 19-30. [934] ^. "The Dialogue of Comfort and More's Execution: Some Comments on Literary Purpose." MLR 61 (1966): 556-60. [935] ^. "The Literary Artistry of Thomas More: The Dialogue of Comfort." SEL 6 (1966): 7-33. [936] ^. "Thomas More's Sources." N&Q ns 11 (1964): 388 + ns 12 (1965): 66. [Some queries.] [937] ^. "With a Coal? The Composition of Thomas More's Dialogue of Comfort." PQ 45 (1966): 437-42. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 13 (1967): 107-08. Marc'hadour's "brief note" is more in the nature of a response.] [938] Mohali, J. "English-Hungarian Connections in the Humanist Circle of Erasmus of Rotterdam." History 32 (1947): 60-62. Thomas More Bibliography / 352 [939] Norlund, H. B. "Comfort through Dialogue: More's Response to Tribulation." Moreana 93 (1987): 53-66. [940] O'Donnell, A. M. "Cicero, Gregory the Great, and Thomas More: Three Dialogues of Comfort." Miscellanea Moreana. 169-97. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 157-58, 251-52; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 119.] [941] Pilecki, G. A. "The Relationship of Nature and Grace in The Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation of St. Thomas More." M.A. Diss. U of Toronto, 1951. [Directed by A. E. Barker.] [942] Purcell, M. "Dialogue of Comfort for Whom?" Thomas More: Essays on the Icon. Ed. D. Grace and B. Byron. Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1980. 89-108. [943] ^. "The Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation." Moreana 67/68 [Thomas More Gazette 2] (1980): 43-45. [944] Russell, J. S. "More's Dialogue and the Dynamics of Comfort." Moreana 65 (1980): 41-55. [945] Schoeck, R. J. "Thomas More's Dialogue of Comfort and the Problem of the Real Grand Turk." English Miscellany 20 (1969): 23-37. [946] Sims, J. H. "Psalm 90 and the Pattern of Temptation in A Dialogue of Comfort and Paradise Regained: From 'Solicitations' to Turiose Force.'" Moreana 74 (1982): 27-37. [947] Wegemer, G. "Thomas More's Dialogue of Comfort: A Platonic Treatment of Statesmanship." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 55-64. [948] Yee, N. C. "Thomas More: in Defence of Tribulation." Moreana 74 (1982): 13-26. [949] ^. "Thomas More's Moriae Encomium: The Perfect Fool in A Dialogue of Comfort Against Tribulation." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 65-74. See also Utopia: Suicide and Death, and Literary Studies, Humanism and Theology: Literary Dialogue. A Treatise on the Passion and Treatise on the Blessed Body Editions [950] Hallett, P. E., ed. English Prayers and the Treatise on the Holy Eucharist by St. Thomas More. London: Burns Oaths & Washbourne, 1938. [951] Haupt, G. E., ed. Treatise upon the Passion, Treatise on the Blessed Body, Instructions and Prayers. Vol. 13 of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. [Rev.: J. W. Blench, RenQ 31 (1978): 640-41; G. R. Elton, EHR 93 (1978): 399-404 (rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies. 3: 454-60); D. Fenlon, JTS 30 (1979): 366-71; W. M. Gordon, Moreana 55/56 (1977): 129-36; E. E. Reynolds, Moreana 54 (1977): 63-73.] [952] ^. The Tower Works: Devotional Writings. Selected Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1980. [Rev.: W. S. Allen, Moreana 71/72 (1981): 109-12. Modernized spelling version.] Selections [953] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. "A Treatise on the Passion." Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. 151-53. [A short selection.] Thomas More Bibliography 353 [954] Nugent, E. M., ed. "Treatise on the Blessed Body." The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 449-54. [A substantial extract from the Treatise on the Blessed Body.] Studies [955] Byron, B. F. "From Essence to Presence: A Shift in Eucharistic Expression Illustrated from The Apologetic of St. Thomas More." Miscellanea Moreana. 429-41. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 163-64, 258-59; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 115. An analysis of More's Eucharistic theology in the Treatise on the Passion.] [956] Martz, L. L. "Treatises upon the Passion." A Dialogue of Comfort. Vol. 12 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. L. L. Martz and F. Manley. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. lxxix-lxxxvi. [On the relationship between the brief treatise "To receive the Blessed Body of Our Lord," and the Treatise on the Passion and the De Tristitia. See also pp. 300-07 of "Thomas More: The Sacramental Life," in De tristitia: Studies.] De tristitia Editions and Translations [957] Bassett, Mary, trans. St. Thomas More's History of the Passion. Translated from the Latin by his Grandaughter Mistress Mary Bassett. Ed. P. E. Hallett. London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1941. [Rev.: A. W. Reed, MLR 36 (1941): 524-26. Modernization of English translation of De tristitia by More's grand-daughter.] [958] . "Mary Basset's Translation of the De tristitia." Appendix C of De Tristitia Christi. Vol. 14 of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. C. H. Miller. 2 vols. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. 14/2: 1075-165. [English translation of the De tristitia, made by More's grand-daughter, reprinted from 1557 edition.] [959] Bertagnoni, M. Nell'orto degli ulivi. Milan: 1984. [Italian translation.] [960] Gibaud, H., ed. Meditation de Thomas More prisonnier sur l'Agonie de Jesus. Pref. and notes by G. Marc'hadour. Paris: Tequi, 1990. [Rev.: R. Galibois, Moreana 104 (1990): 111-18. Latin text and French translation.] [961] Haupt, G. E., ed. The Tower Works: Devotional Writings. See A Treatise on the Passion. [962] Miller, C. H., ed. De Tristitia Christi. Part 1, The Valencia Manuscript: Facsimiles, Transcription, and Translation; Part 2, Introduction, Commentary, Appendices, Index. Vol. 14 of The Complete Works of St. Thomas More. 2 vols. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. [Rev.: D. Bush, Moreana 53 (1977): 125-28; E. J. Devereux, RenQ 30 (1977): 251-53; G. R. Elton, EHR 93 (1978): 399-404 (rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies. 3: 454-60); D. Fenlon, JTS 30 (1979): 366-71; E. E. Reynolds, Moreana 54 (1977): 63-73.] [963] Silva, A. de. La agonia de Cristo. Madrid: 1979. [Spanish translation.] Studies [964] Bullough, G. "More in Valencia: A Holograph Manuscript of the Latin 'Passion.'" The Tablet 21 Dec. 1963: 1379-80. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 2 (1964): 106-08.] [965] Hosington, B. "'Quid dormitis?': More's Use of Sleep as a Motif in De Tristitia." Miscellanea Moreana. 55-69. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 154-55, 248-49.] Thomas More Bibliography / 354 [966] Marc'hadour, G. "Au pays de J. L. Vives: La plus noble relique de Thomas More." Moreana 9 (1966): 93-96 + 10 (1966): 85-86. [967] Martz, L. L. "More as Author: The Virtues of Digression." See The Confutation. [968] ^. "Thomas More: The Sacramental Life." Thought 52 (1977): 300-18. Rev. vers of pp. 307-18 in "De Tristitia: Last Address to the World and to the Self." Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. 83-102, 108. [On the De tristitia and The Treatise on the Passion.] [969] ^. "Treatises upon the Passion." See A Treatise on the Passion. [970] Miller, C. H. "The Heart of the Final Struggle: More's Commentary on the Agony in the Garden." Quincentennial Essays. 108-23. [On the Valencia autograph manuscript of More's De Tristitia and More's revisions to the manuscript.] [971] ^. "The Holograph of More's Expositio Passionis: A Brief History." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 372-79. [972] ^. "Thomas More, A Man For All Seasons: Robert Bolt's Play and the Elizabethan Play of Sir Thomas More." See Robert Bolt's A Man For All Seasons. [973] Santinelli, G. "Thomas More's Expositio Passionis." Trans. by D. B. Billingsley from Studi sull'umanesimo europeo. Padua: Editrice Antenore, 1969. 116-28. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 455-61, 664-65. [974] Trapp, J. B. "The Holograph of More's Expositio Passionis: A Postscript." Moreana 18 (1968): 59-63. Rpt. in Essays on the Renaissance and the Classical Tradition. London: Variorum Reprints, 1990. IX: 59-63 + 'Additions and Corrections': 2. Prison Letters and Prayers Editions [975] Campbell, M., ed. "Letters of More and his Daughter Margaret." The Utopia of Sir Thomas More. Toronto and New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1947. 283-312. [Reprints seven of the `Prison Letters' with modernized spelling.] [976] Campbell, W. E., ed. The Last Letters of Blessed Thomas More. London: Manresa Press; St. Louis: Herder, 1924. [977] Foord, B., ed. Conscience Decides: Letters and Prayers from Prison Written by Sir Thomas More. Intro. G. Marc'hadour. London: Geoffrey Chapman, 1971. [Rev.: P. Caraman, Moreana 35 (1972): 21-24; F. G. Murray, ClergyR 57 (1972): 406.] [978] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "From The English Letters." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 242-81. [Modernized spelling versions of Rogers #197-198, and of several of the 'Prison Letters'.] [979] ^. English Prayers and the Treatise on the Holy Eucharist by St. Thomas More. See Tower Works: Modernizations. [980] Haupt, G. E., ed. "Instruction and Prayers." Treatise upon the Passion, Treatise on the Blessed Body, Instructions and Prayers. Vol. 13 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. 205-31, 300-15. Thomas More Bibliography / 355 [981] "Letters of Sir Thomas More to and From Margaret More." The Mirrour of Vertue in Worldly Greatnes or the Life of Sir Thomas More Knight. By William Roper. London: Alexander Moring (The De La More Press), 1903. 105-77. [Reprints nine of the 'Prison Letters,' including Margaret Roper's "Letter to Alice Alington" (Rogers #206).] [982] Martz, L. L., and R. S. Sylvester, eds. Thomas More's Prayer Book: A Facsimile Reproduction of the Annotated Pages. The Elizabethan Club Series 4. New Haven: Yale UP (for the Elizabethan Club), 1969. [Rev.: J. B. Gest, Catholic Lawyer 16 (1970): 74; G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 23 (1969): 95-102.] [983] Silva, A., trans. Santo Tomas More: Un hombre solo. Cartas desde la Torre. 1534-1535. Madrid: Ediciones Rialp, 1988. [Rev.: L. J. Hutton, Moreana 101/102 (1990): 194. Spanish translation of More's prison letters and prayers.] Selections [984] Appleton, G., ed. The Oxford Book of Prayer. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1985; rpt. 1988. 96, 111, 123, 143, 162. [Several short extracts from More's prayers.] [985] Castle, T., ed. The Hodder Book of Christian Prayers. London: Hodder and Stoughton: 1986. Also publ. as The New Book of Christian Prayer. New York: Crossroad, 1986. 121, 162, 263. [986] McGinty, G., ed. "Saint John Fisher, Bishop and Saint Thomas More, Martyrs." Today We Celebrate: The Saint and Their Message for Us. London: Collins, 1986. 159-62. [A prayer of Fisher's and one of More's Letters.] [987] Williamson, C., ed. "St. Thomas More, 1478-1535." Letters From the Saints: Early Renaissance and Reformation Periods from St. Thomas Aquinas to Bl. Robert Southwell. London: Salisbury Square, n.d. 65-71. Studies [988] Birchenough, E., and G. Marc'hadour. "The Book of Hours." Moreana 6 (1965): 65-68. [989] Bruce, J. "Observations upon Certain Inaccuracies in the Published Letters of Sir Thomas More." See Early Biographers, Editors and Iconographers: William Rastell's 1557 Edition. [990] Castelli, A. "I due '19 Maggio.'" Moreana 15/16 (1967): 347-52. [Rogers #199.] [991] Derrett, J. D. M. "Two Dicta of More's and a Correction." Moreana 8 (1965): 67-72. [On Rogers #200, #202, and #208.] [992] Dickens, A. G. "A New Prayer of Sir Thomas More." Church Quarterly Review 124 (1937): 224-37. [993] Foord, B. "Thomas More and the Rule of Saint Benedict." Moreana 64 (1979): 45-47. [On More's marginal annotations in his prayerbook.] [994] Gordon, W. M. "Tragic Perspective in Thomas More's Dialogue with Margaret in the Tower." Cithara 17:2 (1978): 3-12. [On Margaret Roper's "Letter to Alice Alington."] [995] Gruffydd, R. G. "A Prayer of St. Thomas More's in Welsh, 1587." Moreana 13 (1967): 45-52. ["Give Me Thy Grace": includes English and Welsh texts.] Thomas More Bibliography / 356 [996] Meulon, H. "La docilite chez Thomas More." Moreana 12 (1966): 11-28. [On "obedience" in More's Prison Letters.] [997] Kaufman, P. I. "Absolute Margaret: Margaret More Roper and 'Well Learned' Men." SCJ 20 (1989): 443-56. [A rather disorganized and confused 'feminist' reading of Margaret Roper's "Letter to Alice Alington."] [998] McCutcheon, E. 'The Apple of my Eye': Thomas More to Antonio Bonvisi—A Reading and a Translation." Moreana 71/72 (1981): 37-56. [Translation and interpretation of Rogers #217.] [999] Marc'hadour, G. "A Triple Note About Thomas More's Book of Hours." Moreana 11 (1966): 44-46. ^ [1000] ^. "More's Book of Hours." Moreana 7 (1965): 75-78 + 9 (1966): 101-06. ^ [1001] ^. "Books of Hours and Donkeys' Saddles." Moreana 12 (1966): 82-83 + 14 (1967): 11-13. [On an illustration in More's primer.] [1002] Martz, L. L. "The Art of Improvisation." A Dialogue of Comfort. Vol. 12 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. L. L. Martz and F. Manley. New Haven: Yale UP, 1976. lvii-lxv. Rev. vers. of lix-lxv in "Last Letters and A Dialogue of Comfort." Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. 55-64, 107. [On the relationship between A Dialogue of Comfort and Margaret Roper's "Letter to Alice Alington."] [1003] Martz, L. L., and R. S. Sylvester. "Introduction." Thomas More's Prayer Book: A Facsimile Reproduction of the Annotated Pages. Ed. L. L. Martz and R. S. Sylvester. The Elizabethan Club Series 4. New Haven: Yale UP (for the Elizabethan Club), 1969. xiii-xlv. Also publ. as "Thomas More's Prayer Book." Yale University Library Gazette 43 (1968): 53-80. [1004] Meulon, H. "La pensee du ciel chez Thomas More." Moreana 27/28 (1970): 5-13. [On Margaret Roper's "Letter to Alice Alington."] ^ [1005] ^. "Thomas More et la souffrance." See Dialogue of Comfort. [1006] Miller, C. H. "A Vatican Manuscript Containing Three Brief Works by St. Thomas More." See Tower Works: General Studies. [1007] Sargent, D. "Singularity." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 311-14. [On the Tie-Powder Court' episode in the "Letter to Alice Alington."] [1008] Sullivan, F. "The Letter of the Law of a Christian Socrates." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 304-10. [Compares More's Prison Letters to Plato's Phaedo and Apology.] [1009] Sylvester, R. S. "Conscience and Consciousness: Thomas More." The Author in His Work: Essays on a Problem in Criticism. Ed. L. L. Martz and A. Williams. New Haven: Yale UP, 1978. 163-74. [On "conscience" in More's works, especially in the 'Prison Letters.'] See also Literary Letters, and Margaret Roper. Collections of Extracts from More's Works [1010] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. [Selections also listed separately.] Thomas More Bibliography / 357 [1011] Bridgett, T. E., ed. The Wisdom and Wit of Blessed Thomas More. London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1892. [See also Humour and Wit.] [1012] Elton, G. R., ed. "Sir Thomas More (1478-1535)." Renaissance and Reformation. 1300-1648. New York: MacMillan, 1963. 66-74. [Excerpts from Robynson's translation of Utopia, and from the Confutation, Apology and one of the 'Prison Letters.'] [1013] Gabrieli, V., ed. Thomas More: Fancies Sports and Merry Tales. See Humour and Wit. [1014] Gray, D., ed. "Sir Thomas More." The Oxford Book of Late Medieval Verse and Prose. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1985. 407-12. [Excerpts from The Life of Pico, The History of Richard III, and The Four Last Things.] [1015] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. [Selections also listed separately.] [1016] Nugent, E. M., ed. The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 51-55, 64-72, 217-44, 428-54, 518-24, 547-59. [Selections from More's works, Harpsfield's Life, Bouge's Letter, and Margaret Roper's translation of Erasmus' "Treatise on the Pater Noster." Selections also listed separately.] [1017] Reynolds, E. E. The Heart of Thomas More: Readings for Every day of the Year. See Spirituality. [1018] Shuster, G. N., ed. "St. Thomas More." The World's Great Catholic Literature. 2 vols. (Vol. 1 prey. publ. with the same name. New York: Macmillan, 1942.) Wilkes-Barre, Pa: Dimension Books, 1964. 1: 126-31. [Brief excerpts from the Dialogue of Comfort, More's last letter to his daughter, and from Roper's Life.] See also Utopia: Excerpts from Ralph Robinson's Translation. Thomas More Bibliography / 358 B. GENERAL BACKGROUND STUDIES AND BIOGRAPHIES B.1. PUBLIC LIFE The Young More (1477/78-1515) [1019] Baker, H. "Thomas More at Oxford." Moreana 43/44 (1974): 6-11. [1020] Marc'hadour, G. "Thomas More's Birth: 1477 or 1478?" Moreana 53 (1977): 5-10. [1021] Reed, A. W. "Young More." Under God and the Law: Papers Read to The Thomas More Society of London. Ed. R. O'Sullivan. Oxford: Basil Blackwell, 1949. 1-27. [1022] Reynolds, E. R. "St. Anthony's." Moreana 57 (1978): 5-8. [1023] Saffady, W. "The Effects of Childhood Bereavement and Parental Remarriage in Sixteenth- Century England: The Case of Thomas More." History of Childhood Psychology 1 (1973/74): 310-36. [A "psychohistorical" paper based on unsubstantiated speculations about the death of More's mother and of More's subsequent upbringing.] Law and Politics (excluding More's Trial) [1024] Baker-Smith, D. "Thomas More and the Court of Henry VIII." Chaucer and the Alliterative Tradition. Vol. 1/1 of The New Pelican Guide to English Literature. Ed. Boris Ford. 7 vols. Harmondsworth: Penguin, 1982. 1/1: 371-83. [1025] Beck, E. "St. Thomas More and the Law." DublinR 197 (1935): 53-72. [On More's public career and his trial.] [1026] Birchenough, E., J. Birchenough, and G. Marc'hadour. "More's Appointment as Chancellor and His Resignation." Moreana 12 (1966): 71-80. [Includes account of More's resignation (and Audley's inauguration) transcribed from the Chancery Close Roll together with an English translation (79-80).] [1027] Blom, N. van der. "La demission de More selon Erasme (d'apres Allen X, lettres 2735, 2750 et 2780)." Moreana 89 (1986): 29-34. With reactions by J. Chomarat and R. Galibois 34-36. [1028] Brabrook, E. W. "On An Unrecorded Event In The Life Of Sir Thomas More." Transactions of the Royal Society of Literature of the United Kingdom 2nd ser. 12 (1882): 160-72. [On More's associations with Doctors' Commons and his diplomatic missions.] [1029] Brown, B. F. "St. Thomas More, Lawyer." Fordham Law Review 4 (1935): 375-90. [1030] Butler, B. "Thomas More and the Inns of Court." Catholic Lawyer 17 (1971): 78-87. [1031] Collins, D. G., ed. "Thomas More Among the Lawyers." New York University Law Review 38 (1963): 813-34. [The edited transcript of a panel discussion by J. Noonan, Jr., A. H. Garretson, D. G. Collins, and E. Cahn held at the New York University School of Law to commemorate the publication of E. F. Rogers' edition of St. Thomas More: Selected Letters, (1961)—See Literary Letters.] Thomas More Bibliography / 359 [1032] Condren, C., and A. C. Condren. "More and Sokrates: The Limits of Comparison and Symbolic Potency." Thomas More: Essays on the Icon. Ed. D. Grace and B. Byron. Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1980. 109-29. [More and Socrates as public symbols.] [1033] Derrett, J. D. M. "Thomas More and the Legislation of the Corporation of London." The Guildhall Miscellany 2:5 (1963). Rpt. with corrections in Essential Articles. 49-54, 589-91. ^ [1034] ^. "Withernam: A Legal Practical Joke of Sir Thomas More." Catholic Lawyer 7 (1961): 211-22, 242. [The joke turns on doubts about the legality under Roman Law of the practise of "Reprisals". This joke has often been misunderstood by later legal commentators.] ^ [1035] ^. "Withernam: A Postscript." Catholic Lawyer 7 (1963): 124-27, 137. [On More's negotiations with the Hanse League 1520 and 1521.] [1036] Elton, G. R. "Sir Thomas More and the Opposition to Henry VIII." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 285-303. Rev. vers. in BIHR 41 (1968): 19-34; Rpt. in Essential Articles. 79-91, 596-99. Rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies. 1: 155-72. ^ [1037] ^. "Thomas More: Councillor." St. Thomas More: Action and Contemplation. Ed. R. S. Sylvester. New Haven: Yale UP (for St. John's University), 1972. 86-122. Rpt. in Tudor and Stuart Studies. 1: 129-54. [1038] Fenlon, D. "Thomas More and Tyranny." JEH 32 (1981): 453-76. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 77 (1983): 47-48.] [1039] Guy, J. A. The Public Career of Sir Thomas More. Brighton: The Harvester P; New Haven: Yale UP, 1980. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 113. Rev.: J. R. Lander, RenQ 35 (1982): 279-82; E. McCutcheon, Moreana 73 (1982): 43-45.] ^ [1040] ^. "Sir Thomas More and the Heretics." History Today 30:2 (1980): 11-15. ^ [1041] ^. "Thomas More as Successor to Wolsey." Thought 52 (1977): 275-92. [1042] Hastings, M. "Sir Thomas More: Maker of English Law?" Essential Articles. 104-18, 601-03. [1043] Headley, J. M. "More Against Luther on Law and the Magistrate." See Responsio ad Lutherum. ^ [1044] ^. "The New Debate on More's Political Career." Thought 52 (1977): 269-74. [1045] Hogrefe, P. "Sir Thomas More and Doctors Commons." Moreana 14 (1967): 15-21. [On More's membership in this prestigious Civilian "Lawyer's Club."] [1046] Kelley, D. R. "The Conscience of the King's 'Good Servant." Thought 52 (1977): 293-99. [1047] McConica, J. "The Patrimony of Thomas More." History and Imagination: Essays in Honour of H. R. Trevor-Roper. Ed. H. Lloyd-Jones, V. Pearl and B. Worden. London: Duckworth, 1981. 56-71. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 113. On More's ancestry, associations with the London Charterhouse, and his public career.] [1048] MacNulty, A. S. "Sir Thomas More as Public Health Reformer." Journal of the Royal Institute of Public Health (now Community Health) 10 (1947): 7-23. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 119-35, 603. Thomas More Bibliography / 360 [1049] Marc'hadour, G. "Fuitne Thomas Morus in Aulam Pertractus?" Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Sanctandreani. 441-48. [English article.] ^ [1050] ^. "Sir Thomas More, Knight." Catholic Theological Review [Australia] 2 (1979): 3-19. [On More's knighthood and the ideals of chivalry.] [1051] Massingham, K. R. "Thomas More, laicus', Gent." Moreana 87/88 (1985): 29-35. [1052] Mermel, J. "Preparations for a Politic Life: Sir Thomas More's Entry into the King's Service." JMRS 7 (1977): 53-66. [1053] More, D. "Thomas More as Lawyer." Thomas More: The Rhetoric of Character. Ed. A. Fox and P. Leech. Dunedin: U of Otago (A University Extension Publication), 1979. 83-99, 112-15. [Sum.: P. Leech, ibid., 12-14.] [1054] O'Connell, J. R. "Saint Thomas More as Citizen." DublinR 197 (1935): 37-52. [On More's connections with London both before and after his entry into Royal Service.] [1055] O'Sullivan, R. "Sir Thomas More the Lawyer." Law Times 213 (1952): 30-31, 57-59, 103-05. Rpt. in The Spirit of the Common Law: A Representative Collection of the Papers of Richard O'Sullivan. Ed. B. A. Wortley. Tenbury Wells, Worcs.: Fowler Wright Books, 1965. 21-39. [Rev.: I. Thomas, Moreana 10 (1966): 83-84; M. T. Rooney, Catholic Lawyer 12 (1966): 88-90.] ^ [1056] ^. "Social Life and Theories of St. Thomas More." DublinR 199 (1936): 46-62. Rpt. in More's Utopia And it's Critics. Ed. L. Gallagher. Chicago: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1964. 123-34. [More's family life and legal career, especially in relation to Utopia.] ^[1057] ^. "St. Thomas More and Lincoln's Inn." Catholic Lawyer 3 (1957): 71-80. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 161-68. 607. [1058] Ormerod, A. H. "The SS Collar." Catholic Lawyer 2 (1956): 123-30. Rpt. ibid. 17 (1971): 292-99. [Argues that the "SS Collar" that More wore was originally a collar of livery for the house of Lancaster.] [1059] Ramsey, G. D. "A Saint in the City: Thomas More at Mercer's Hall, London." EHR 97 (1982): 269-88. [Rev.: D. Bradshaw, Moreana 79/80 (1980): 103-04. On More's connections with the Mercers Guild; also deals with More's ancestry.] [1060] Sawada, P. A. "Was More a Utopian or a Realpolitiker?" Moreana 91/92 (1986): 21-29. [1061] Scarisbrick, J. J. "Thomas More: The King's Good Servant." Thought 52 (1977): 249-68. [1062] Schoeck, R. J. "Common Law and Canon Law in Their Relation to Thomas More." St. Thomas More: Action and Contemplation. Ed. R. S. Sylvester. New Haven: Yale UP (for St. John's University), 1972. 17-55. An earlier vers. publ. as "The Two Laws in Thomas More: A Preliminary Reading of the Canon and Common Laws in His Career and Writings." Catholic Lawyer 16 (1970): 277-95. ^ [1063] ^. "Common Law and Canon Law in the Writings of Thomas More: The Affair of Richard Hunne." Proceedings of the Third International Congress of Medieval Canon Law, Strasbourg, 3-6 September 1968. Ed. Stephen Kuttner. Monumenta Iuris Canonici, ser. C., subsidia 4. Vatican: Biblioteca Apostolica Vaticana, 1971. 237-54. ^ [1064] ^. "Sir Thomas More and Lincoln's Inn Revels." PQ 29 (1950): 426-29. Thomas More Bibliography / 361 ^[1065] ^. "Sir Thomas More, Humanist and Lawyer." UTQ 34 (1964): 1-14. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 569-79, 674-76. ^ [1066] ^. "The Place of Sir Thomas More in Legal History and Tradition: A Sketch with Some Observations." Moreana 51 (1976): 83-94. ^ [1067] ^. "Was Sir Thomas More a 'Roman lawyer?'" N&Q 194 (1949): 203. [A note on T. More and Doctors Commons.] [1068] Smelser, M. "The Political Philosophy of Sir Thomas More As Expressed in His Theological Controversies." See Polemical Works: General Studies. [1069] Suzuki, Y. "Thomas More's View of Politics as a Profession." Moreana 93 (1987): 29-40. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 116.] [1070] Suzuki, Y. "The Social Ideas of the Younger More." Moreana 83/84 (1984): 61-71. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 116.] [1071] Tsukada, T. "Thomas More as a Political Thinker and Actor for Reform." Hitotsubashi Journal of Arts and Sciences 22 (1981): 17-30. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 115-16.] More and the Law: Essays, Appreciations and Public Addresses [1072] "A Lawyer Canonized: Lord Chancellor More's Remarkable 'Career."' American Bar Association Journal 21 (1935): 330. [1073] Bork, R. H. "Law, Morality and Thomas More." Catholic Lawyer 31 (1986): 1-6. [On More, the law and civil disobedience by an American judge. Bork argues that More's refusal to take the oath was not "civil disobedience" but rather an appeal to a higher law.] [1074] Brennan, W. J. "Thomas More: Saint and Judge." Catholic Lawyer 4 (1958): 162-66. [1075] Cowen, Sir Z. "Sir Thomas More—Lawyer, Scholar and Statesman." Australian Law Journal 52 (1978): 354-60. [Address by Governor-General of Australia, includes quotes from Robert Bolt's play.] [1076] Cuomo, M. M. "A Personal Appreciation." Interpreting Thomas More's Utopia. Ed. J. C. Olin. New York: Fordham UP, 1989. 1-5. [Summ.: C. M. Murphy, SCJ 22 (1991): 883. A. Rabil, Jr., Church History 61 (1992): 406-07. More as both a man of action and a mystic. Governor Cuomo's decision to enter politics partly inspired by More.] [1077] Glenn, G. "St. Thomas More As Judge and Lawyer." Fordham Law Review 10 (1941): 187-95. [1078] Hauerwas, S., and T. L. Shaffer. "Hope Faces Power: Thomas More and the King of England." See Robert Bolt's A Man For All Seasons. [1079] Hogan, E. A., Jr. "St. Thomas More: Inspiration for Lawyers." Catholic Lawyer 3 (1957): 269-75. [A brief summary-appreciation of More's career as a Lawyer.] [1080] Holden, B. "St. Thomas More, Patron of Puritans." Catholic Lawyer 2 (1956): 50-55, 78. [Compares More's ideas on toleration with those of the Puritans in seventeenth-century New England.] Thomas More Bibliography / 362 [1081] Kinsella, W. "Thomas More: A Man for Our Time." Dublin: Privately printed by The St. Thomas More Society, 1982. Rpt. in Catholic Lawyer 29 (1985): 323-43. [1082] McDonald, M. F. "St. Thomas More: Lawyer and Politician." Catholic Lawyer 1 (1955): 121-27. [1083] Rawlinson, (Lord) P., (of Ewell). "Thomas More as a Public Figure." Moreana 54 (1977): 41-56. [1084] Russell, (Lord) F., (of Killowen). "A Great Lord Chancellor." The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. 65-79. [On More's public career: an appreciation by a British Lord Justice.] [1085] Schoeck, R. J. "A Lawyer with a Conscience." Moreana 39 (1973): 25-32. [Alludes to the `Watergate Affair.'] [1086] Vachon, R. A. "The Relevance of St. Thomas More." Catholic Lawyer 13 (1967): 145-48, 170. On More's Name, Coat of Arms, etc. [1087] Cole, A. C. "Sir Thomas More's quartering ... and a new 'old grant.'" The Coat of Arms ns 1 (1975) 126-31. [1088] Marc'hadour, G. "Thomas More: Les arcanes d'un nom." Moreana 2 (1964): 55-70 + 3 (1964): 71-80 + 5 (1965): 73-88. Trans. and rev. by the author as "A Name For All Seasons." in Essential Articles. 539-62, 667-72. [1089] Schoeck, R. J. "More, Erasmus, and the Devil." N&Q 196 (1951): 313. [1090] Schoeck, R. J. "More, the Devil, and Cardinal Morton: A Note on 16th-Century Name Devices." N&Q ns 1 (1954): 193-94. [On puns and Morton's name-device, and on More's coat of arms.] [1091] "St. Thomas More's Coat of Arms." Catholic Lawyer (inside back cover of every issue). More's Signatures, Seals and Official Documents [1092] Reynolds, E. E., and G. Marc'hadour. "Another Signature." Moreana 12 (1966): 84-86. [The signatures of Wolsey and More on a letter of attorney (1527) to Baron Bergavenny.] [1093] Trapp, J. B. "Dame Christian Colet and Thomas More." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 103-13. [Transcriptions of two legal documents concerning Colet's mother, signed by Thomas More and Thomas Lupset. Reproduces More's and Lupset's signatures.] More's Diplomatic Missions [1094] Derrett, J. D. M. "Withernam: A Postscript." See Law and Politics. [1095] Marc'hadour, G. "Tournai-Doorbijk comme la vit Thomas More." Moreana 46 (1975): 97-101. [1096] Rogers, E. F. "Margaret of Austria's Gifts to Tunstal, More and Hacket After the Ladies' Peace." Moreana 12 (1966): 57-60. Thomas More Bibliography / 363 See also Utopia: More's Utopian Embassy of 1515. More's Epitaph [1097] Garanderie, M. M. de la. "Sur la publication de l'epitaphe de Thomas More." Moreana 17 (1968): 15-19. [On More's epitaph and his last letters to Erasmus and on Erasmus' De praeparatione ad mortem.] [1098] Hitchcock, E. V., ed. "Appendix IV: The Epitaph on the More Tomb in Chelsea Old Church." in The life and death of Sr Thomas Moore, knight. sometymes Lord high Chancellor of England. By Nicholas Harpsfield. Early English Texts Society 186. London: Humphrey Milford, Oxford UP, 1932. 277-81. English trans. in EW 1557, 1419-20; and in The Essential Thomas More. Ed. J. J. Greene and J. P. Dolan. New York: Mentor, 1967. 285-86. [1099] Miller, C. H. "A Vatican Manuscript Containing Three Brief Works by St. Thomas More." See Tower Works: General Studies. More's Trial, Imprisonment, Execution, and Martyrdom Documents [1100] Bruce, J., ed. "Inedited Documents Relating to the Imprisonment and Condemnation of Sir Thomas More." Archaeologia 27 (1838): 361-74. [Text of Dame Alice's Petition to Henry VIII (Rogers #212) and of More's Indictment, together with a translation (364-68). Superceded by E. V. Hitchcock's edition in Harpsfield's Life of More.] [1101] Derrett, J. D. M., ed. "Neglected Versions of the Contemporary Account of the Trial of Sir Thomas More." BIHR 33 (1960): 202-23. [A critical edition of the Latin "source" (not the Expositio Fidelis) of the Paris News Letter. (Also includes a reprint of the Paris News Letter.) But see E. E. Reynolds, The Trial, 1-21, for a different view of the relationships between the various accounts of More's execution.] [1102] Ellis, H., ed. "An Account of the Charges of Certain Prisoners in the Tower t. Hen. VIII." Archaeologia 18 (1817): 294-97. [Includes More and Fisher, and John Houghton.] [1103] Hitchcock, E. V., ed. "Appendix II: The Paris News Letter." in The life and death of Sr Thomas Moore, knight, sometymes Lord high Chancellor of England. By Nicholas Harpsfield. Early English Texts Society 186. London: Humphrey Milford, Oxford UP, 1932. 255-66. English trans. in The Essential Thomas More. Ed. J. J. Greene and J. P. Dolan. New York: Mentor, 1967. 294-98. [A contemporary French account of More'e execution.] [1104] . "Appendix III: Sir Thomas More's Indictment." in The life and death of Sr Thomas Moore, knight, sometymes Lord high Chancellor of England. By Nicholas Harpsfield. Early English Texts Society 186. London: Humphrey Milford, Oxford UP, 1932. 267-76. English trans. in English Historical Documents, Vol. V: 1485-1558. Ed. C. H. Williams. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1967. 483-87. [The text of More's indictment.] [1105] (Montanus, Philip). "Expositio Fidelis." Opus epistolarum Des. Erasmi Roterodami. Ed. P. S. Allen. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1947. Vol. 11: 368-78. [Includes a Latin translation of the Paris News Letter, formerly attributed to Erasmus.] Thomas More Bibliography / 364 [1106] Reynolds, E. E., ed. "Conversation between Sir Thomas More and Sir Richard Rich, 12 June 1535." The Field is Won. London: Burns and Oates, 1968. 385-86. Differs slightly from an earlier transcription given in The Trial of St. Thomas More. London: Burns & Oates, 1964. 166-67. [P.R.O., S.P. 2/R, fols. 24-25. This document confirms most of the details of Rich's perjury as reported by Roper.] [1107] Sylvester, R. S., ed. "More's Discussion of Perjury." Moreana 55/56 (1977): 73-77. Rev. vers. rpt. as "Appendix B: More's Discussion of Perjury." A Dialogue Concerning Heresies. Vol. 6 of The Yale Edition of the Complete Works of St. Thomas More. Ed. T. M. C. Lawler, G. Marc'hadour and R. C. Marius. 2 vols. New Haven: Yale UP, 1981. 761-69. [1108] Vocht, H. de, ed. Acta Thomae Mori: A History of the Reports of His Trial and Death with an Unedited Contemporary Narrative. Humanistica Lovaniensia 7. Louvain: Publications of the Institute for Economics of the University, 1947. [An edition of the Ordo Condemnationis Thomae Mori, together with a reprint of the Expositio Fidelis. Later scholars have rejected De Vocht's extravagant claims for the priority of the Ordo. See E. E. Reynolds, The Trial, 11-16.] [1109] Wheeler, T. "An Italian Account of Thomas More's Trial and Execution." Moreana 26 (1970): 33-39. [Italian text parallels the Expositio Fidelis, and the Paris News Letter. Probably derived from a common source.] Studies [1110] Bell, P. I. "The Trial of Thomas More." Month ns 23 (1960): 325-39. Rpt. in Catholic Lawyer 6 (1960): 290-310. [1111] Belloc, H. "The Witness to Abstract Truth." The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. 51-60. [More as a martyr for the 'Papacy.' A sensitive and nuanced treatment of More's final decision to refuse the Oath of Supremacy. See also Brief Biographies.] [1112] Byron, B. "The Fourth Count of the Indictment of St. Thomas More." Moreana 10 (1966): 33-46. [1113] Conesa, S. H. "Did Thomas More Have a Cervical Disc Lesion?" Moreana 83/84 (1984): 27-31. [1114] Derrett, J. D. M. "Juramenta in Legem: St. Thomas More's Crisis of Conscience and the `Good Roman.'" DownsideR 91 (1973): 111-16. [Metellus' opposition to Marius as a model for More.] ^ [1115] ^. "More's Conveyance of His Lands and the Law of 'Fraud." Moreana 5 (1965): 19-26. ^ [1116] ^. "More's Silence and his Trial." Moreana 87/88 (1985): 25-27. ^ [1117] ^. "Sir Thomas More and the Nun of Kent." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 267-84. ^ [1118] ^. "The 'New' Document on Thomas More's Trial." Moreana 3 (1964): 5-18. With notes in reply by E. E. Reynolds, 19-22. [A rejoinder to E. E. Reynold's "An Unnoticed Document.] ^ [1119] ^. "The Trial of Sir Thomas More." EHR 79 (1964): 449-77. Rpt. with addenda in Essential Articles. 55-78, 591-96. Thomas More Bibliography / 365 [1120] Devereux, E. J. "More, Fisher and the Attainder Bill." Moreana 62 (1979): 43-50. [1121] Egretier, N.-M. "'Thomas More, Le meilleur des Anglais' (Reginald Pole)." Moreana 3 (1964): 23-35. [1122] Flegel, K. M. "Thomas More: Was a Sick Man Beheaded?" Moreana 49 (1976): 15-27. [1123] Gairdner, J. "Martyrs for Rome." Lollardy and the Reformation in England. 4 vols. London: MacMillan, 1908-13. Rpt. (Burt Franklin: Research and Source Work Series 84) New York: Burt Franklin, 1974. 1: 420-504. [1124] Gibaud, H. "Reginald Pole: Le silence de Thomas More." Moreana 78 (1983): 85-89. [1125] Gilman, R. "St. Thomas More." Catholic Lawyer 1 (1955): 44-47. [1126] Herbruggen, H. S. "The Process Against Sir Thomas More." Law Quarterly Review 99 (1983): 113-36. [A detailed account of all the surviving sources for More's Trial.] [1127] Jarrett, B. "A National Bulwark Against Tyranny." The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. 105-16. [More (and Fisher) as the main opposition to Henry VIII.] [1128] Knowles, D. "For What So Silently Died More?" The Ampleforth Journal 83:1 (1978): 31-36. [1129] Marc'hadour, G. "On Death and Martyrdom: St. Thomas More." The Portrayal of Life Stages in English Literature, 1500-1800: Infancy, Youth, Marriage, Aging, Death, Martyrdom. Essays in Honor of Warren Wooden. Ed. J. Watson and P. McM. Pittman. Studies in British History 10. Lewiston, NY: The Edwin Mellon P, 1989. 203-24. [1130] Parmiter, G. de C. "A Note on Some Aspects of the Royal Supremacy of Henry VIII." Recusant History 10 (1969/70): 183-92. ^ [1131] ^. "Saint Thomas More and the Oath." DownsideR 78 (1959/60): 1-13. ^ [1132] ^. "The Indictment of Saint Thomas More." DownsideR 75 (1957): 149-66. Rev. vers. in "Tudor Indictments, Illustrated by The Indictment of St. Thomas More." Recusant History 6 (1961/62): 141-56. [1133] Rawlinson, (Lord) P. (of Ewell). "Public Duty and Personal Faith—The Example of Sir Thomas More." Australian Law Journal 53 (1979): 9-18. [An account of More's Trial by a former British Attorney-General.] [1134] Reynolds, E. E. "An Unnoticed Document." Moreana 1 (1963): 12-17. ^ [1135] ^. "One of Thomas More's Judges." Moreana 54 (1977): 27-29. ^ [1136] ^. The Trial of St. Thomas More. London: Burns & Oates, 1964. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 2 (1964): 90-96.] [1137] Reynolds, E. E., et al. "More's Cell in the Tower." Moreana 18 (1968): 74 + 19/20 (1968): 27-28. [1138] Salmon, Thomas. "The Trial of Sir Thomas More." New Abridgement and Critical Review of the State Trials. London: 1737. 10-11. Rpt. in Catholic Lawyer 2 (1956): 68-69. Thomas More Bibliography / 366 [1139] "The Trial of Sir Thomas More, Knight: Howell's State Trials, 1816 (1 How. St. Tr. 385)." Rpt. in Catholic Lawyer 1 (1955): 49-56. [A standard "Law book" account. The description in Howell's State Trials has no independent value for modern scholars, being derived mainly from Cresacre More's Life of More, and Lord Herbert of Cherbury's Life of Henry VIII.] [1140] Zeeveld, W. G. "Apology for an Execution." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 353-71. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 198-211, 615-16. [Discusses various contemporary "defences" of the execution by Simon Matthew, Gardiner and Richard Morison.] More's Head and Burial [1141] Albin, H. 0. "Canterbury: More's Head and a More Window." Moreana 37 (1973): 51-52. [1142] . "Opening of the Roper Vault in St Dunstan's Canterbury and Thoughts on the Burial of William and Mary(?) Roper." Moreana 63 (1979): 29-35. [1143] Albin, H. 0., and H. S. Herbriiggen. "Thomas More's Head Revisited." Moreana 78 (1983): 47-49. [1144] O'Sullivan, R. "The Old Church of Chelsea." See More's Family: London, Bucklersberry, Chelsea and More's Manors. B.2. LITERARY STUDIES, HUMANISM AND THEOLOGY General Studies of More's Works [1145] Adams, R. P. The Better Part of Valor: More, Erasmus, Colet and Vices on Humanism, War, and Peace, 1496-1535. Seattle: U of Washington P, 1962. [Rev.: E. Surtz, RenN 16 (1963): 17-21.] [1146] Baumann, U., and H. P. Heinrich. Thomas Morus: Humanistische Schriften. Intro. H. S. Herbruggen. Ertrage der Forschung 243. Darmstadt: Wissenschaftliche Buchgesellschaft, 1986. [Rev.: R. J. Schoeck, RenQ 42 (1989): 854-55.] [1147] Chambers, R. W. "The Saga and the Myth of Sir Thomas More." PBA 12 (1926): 179-225. Rpt. London: Milford, 1927. [Rev.: EHR 43 (1928): 645. On the early biographies of More and on Utopia. Also includes a very eloquent and soundly argued defence of More against the extremely distorted and unfounded claims that More tortured heretics. Still worth reading.] [1148] Dust, P. Three Renaissance Pacifists: Essays in the Theories of Erasmus, More and Vices. American University Studies IX. 23. New York: Peter Lang, 1987. [Rev.: J. Mulryan, Cithara 27:1 (1987): 68; T. Wengert, Journal of Religion 71 (1991): 309.] [1149] Fleisher, M. Radical Reform and Political Persuasion in the Life and Writings of Thomas More. Travaux d'humanisme et renaissance 132. Geneva: Droz, 1973. [Rev.: G. Thompson, Ren&Ref os 11 (1975): 63-66.] Thomas More Bibliography / 367 [1150] Fox, A. Thomas More: History and Providence. New Haven: Yale UP, 1983. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 114. Rev.: N. Barker, TLS 25 Feb. 1983: 199; G. R. Elton, New York Review of Books 30:1 3 Feb. 1983: 3-5; J. A. Guy, History 68 (1983): 316-17; D. Kinney, RenQ 37 (1984): 74-78; G. Marc'hadour, Ren&Ref ns 8 (1984): 138-44; C. Murphy, CHR 72 (1986): 85-86; P. Sheldrake, HeythropJ 25 (1984): 225-26; W. Stewart, Moreana 79/80 (1983): 79-82; J. B. Trapp, London Review of Books 5:21 17 Nov. 1983: 15-16. See also R. Pineas, "A Response to Alistair Fox," and, especially, B. Bradshaw "The Controversial Sir Thomas More," both in Polemical Works: General Studies.] [1151] Grace, D. The Political Thought of St. Thomas More, 1509-1521. Diss. U of New South Wales, n.d. [1152] Greenslade, S. L. "The Morean Renaissance: Review Article." JEH 24 (1973): 395-401. [1153] Hexter, J. H. "Thomas More: On the Margins of Modernity." JBS 1:1 (1961): 20-37. [1154] Jones, J. P. Thomas More. Boston, MA: G. K. Hall (Twayne), 1979. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 114. Rev.: J. Mezciems, N&Q ns 28 (1981): 68-69; W. W. Wooden, College Literature 7 (1980): 76-77.] [1155] Kenny, A. Thomas More. Oxford: Oxford UP (Past Masters), 1983. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 113.] [1156] Martz, L. L. Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 113. Rev.: D. Baker-Smith, RenS 6 (1992): 224-26; N. Barker, TLS 16 Aug. 1991: 26; P. C. Dust, Review [Charlottesville] 14 (1992): 225-30; J. Farr, Theological Studies 52 (1991): 590-91; A. Kenny, JEH 43 (1992): 650-51; D. Kinney, Albion 23 (1991): 733-34; A. J. Loomie, Thought 67 (1992): 107-08; A. M. O'Donnell, CHR 77 (1991): 607-08; A. Murphy, HeythropJ 33 (1992): 437-38; G. Wegemer, Southern Humanities Review 26 (1992): 85-86; A. M. Young, SCJ 23 (1992): 162-64. Revised versions of four previously published articles, also listed separately.] [1157] Prevost, A. Thomas More et la crise de la pensee europ&nne. Paris: Mame, 1969. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, RenQ 25 (1972): 348-49; H. Meulon, Moreana 25 (1970): 89-90.] [1158] Reynolds, E. E. Sir Thomas More. Writers and Their Work 178. London: Pubished for The British Council and the National Book League by Longmans, Green & Co., 1965. [Rev.: R. W. Zandvoort, English Studies 47 (1966): 220. A brief thirty-five page account of More's literary achievement.] [1159] Schoeck, R. J. The Achievement of Thomas More: Aspects of his Life and Works. English Literary Studies monograph series 7. Victoria, BC: English Literary Studies, University of Victoria, 1976. [1160] Seebohm, F. The Oxford Reformers of 1498: Colet, Erasmus, More. London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1867. Rev. ed. as The Oxford Reformers: John Colet, Erasmus, and Thomas More, Being a History of their Fellow-Work. London: Longmans, Green & Co., 1869, 1887, 1911. Rpt. London: Dent & Son (Everyman's Library 665), 1914. English Language and Prose Style [1161] Bennett, J. R. "English Prose Style from Alfred to More: A Bibliography." Mediaeval Studies 30 (1968): 248-59. [Annotated.] Thomas More Bibliography / 368 [1162] Birch, D. "Statistical Rank and the Freidman Test as an Indication of Significance in the Preliminary Stages of a Multi-Variable Analysis of Literary Texts." Studia Neophilologica 55 (1983): 129-41. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 117. A preliminary statistical analysis of More's English "Polemical Works."] [1163] Cavanaugh, J. "The Use of Proverbs and Sententiae for Rhetorical Amplification in the Writings of Saint Thomas More." Diss. St. Louis U, 1970. [DAI 31/4 (1970): 2336-37A.] [1164] Chambers, R. W. The Continuity of English Prose from Alfred to More and his School. London: Oxford UP, 1932. Also publ. as intro. in E. V. Hitchcock's ed. of N. Harpsfield, Life of More. xlv-clxxiv. [On the continuity of English prose from Beowulf and Alfred to More. Includes a good discussion of the Fourteenth Century English mystics and also on More and Tyndale as translators of the Bible.] ^ [1165] ^. The Place of St. Thomas More in English Literature and History. London: Longmans Green & Co., 1937. Rpt. New York: Haskell House, 1964. [Rev.: TLS 13 Nov. 1937: 861; C. Smyth, Criterion 17 (1937/38): 523-32.] [1166] Delcourt, J. Essai sur la langue de Sir Thomas More d'apres ses oeuvres anglaises. Montpellier: Roumegous et Dehan, 1913. Rpt. Paris: H. Didier, 1914. ^ [1167] ^. "Some Aspects of Sir Thomas More's English." E&S 21 (1936): 7-31. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 326-42, 640. [1168] Krapp, G. P. The Rise of English Literary Prose. See Polemical Works: General Studies. [1169] Hallett, P. E. "Blessed Thomas More as an English Prose Writer." DublinR 191 (1932): 117-28. [On More's style in his English works.] [1170] Lewis, C. S. "[Thomas More.]" English Literature in the Sixteenth Century, Excluding Drama. Oxford History of English Literature, Vol. 3. Oxford: Oxford UP, 1954. 133, 165-81, 191-92. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 388-401, 651. [1171] Miles, L. "Thomas More: Disenchanted Saint." Literature and Society. Ed. B. Slote. Lincoln, NA: U of Nebraska P, 1964. 65-84. [Miles finds More becoming more and more pessimistic about human nature in his later works.] [1172] Sylvester, R. S. "Keynote Address to the Georgetown Symposium." Moreana 62 (1979): 94-103. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 116.] [1173] Sullivan, M. R. "A Study of the Cursus in the Works of St. Thomas More." Diss. Catholic U of America. Washington, DC: 1943. [1174] Visser, F. T. A Syntax of the English Language of St. Thomas More. The Verb. Parts I-III. Materials for the Study of Old English Drama 19, 24, 26. 3 vols. Louvain: C. Uystpruyst, 1946, 1952, 1956. [Summ./Rev.: H. de Vocht, "Materials xix, xxiv, xxvi: F. Visser, a Syntax of the Language of St. Thomas More." Professor Bang and His Work in English Philology. Materials for the Study of Old English Drama 25. Louvain: C. Uystpruyst, 1958. 200-201. Visser's 950 page study (pages numbered consecutively in the 3 parts) covers only the verb constructions in More's English Works. The other parts of speech were never completed.] More and Chaucer [1175] Fox, A. "Chaucer, More, and English Humanism." Parergon ns 6 (1988): 63-75. [On More's use of Chaucer in his English works.] Thomas More Bibliography / 369 ^[1176] ^. "Thomas More's Dialogue and the Book of the Tales of Caunterbury: 'Good Mother Wit' and Creative Imitation." See Dialogue Concerning Heresies. More: Literary Dialogue [1177] Gordon, W. M. "The Platonic Dramaturgy of Thomas More's Dialogues." JMRS 8 (1978): 193-215. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 116.] [1178] Marc'hadour, G. "Here I Sit: Thomas More's Genius for Dialogue." Thomas More: Essays on the Icon. Ed. D. Grace and B. Byron. Melbourne: Dove Publications, 1980. 9-42. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 116. Discusses More's three dialogues: deals mainly with the Dialogue Concerning Heresies.] ^[1179] ^. "Thomas More: De la conversation au dialogue." Le dialogue au temps de la Renaissance. Ed. M. T. Jones-Davies. Paris: Jean Touzot, 1984. 35-57. [Covers similar ground to "Here I Sit: Thomas More's Genius for Dialogue."] [1180] Marius, R. "Reflections on Writing the Biography of a Saint." See More Scholars, Biographers and Editors. [1181] Pineas, R. "Thomas More's Use of the Dialogue Form as a Weapon of Religious Controversy." SRen 7 (1960): 193-206. [Summ.: H. G. Zettler, AES 4 (1961): 665.] [1182] Sodeman, N. R. "Rhetoric in More's English Dialogues." Moreana 59/60 (1978): 13-18. [1183] Sylvester, R. S. "Three Dialogues." Moreana 64 (1980): 65-78. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 116.] [1184] Wilson, K. J. "Thomas More: The Transfiguration of Dialogue." Incomplete Fictions: The Formation of English Renaissance Dialogue. Washington, D.C.: Catholic U of America P, 1985. 137-75. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 91/92 (1986): 189-93. J. M. Mueller, RenQ 39 (1986): 336-39; J. Mulryan, Cithara 25:1 (1985): 74-75. Analysis of the Dialogue Concerning Heresies and the Dialogue of Comfort.] More: Conscience [1185] Derrett, J. D. M. "Juramenta in Legem: St. Thomas More's Crisis of Conscience and the `Good Roman.'" See The Trial, Imprisonment and Execution. [1186] Gottfried, R. B. "A Conscience Undeflowered: A Lecture on Thomas More." Lunenburg, VT: Privately Printed, 1958. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 520-38. [1187] Kelley, D. R. "The Conscience of the King's 'Good Servant."' See Law and Politics. [1188] Lewis, C. S. "Conscience and Conscious." Studies in Words. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1960. 181-213. [Important discussion on the meanings of "conscience" in the sixteenth century and later. Cites More as example.] [1189] Prevost, A. "Valeur supreme de la conscience: le temoin." Thomas More et la crise de la pens& europeenne. Paris: Mame, 1969. 343-54. Trans. and rev. as "Conscience the Ultimate Court of Appeal." Essential Articles. 563-68, 672-74. [1190] Schoeck, R. J. "A Lawyer with a Conscience." See More and the Law. [1191] Sylvester, R. S. "Conscience and Consciousness: Thomas More." See Prison Letters and Prayers. Thomas More Bibliography / 370 Ecclesiology: More and the Church [1192] Gogan, B. G. The Common Corps of Christendom: Ecclesiological Themes in the Writings of Sir Thomas More. Studies in the History of Christian Thought 26. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1982. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 115. Rev.: A. Godin, Moreana 89 (1986): 81-88; P. Sheldrake, Moreana 82 (1984): 85-88; T. I. White, RenQ 37 (1984): 78-80.] [1193] Headley, J. M. "On More and the Papacy." Moreana 41 (1974): 5-10. [A response to R. Marius, "Thomas More's View of the Church." On More's treatment of the Papacy in the Responsio and the Confutation.] [1194] Marius, R. "Thomas More's View of the Church." in CW 8/3: 1271-363. ^ [1195] ^. "Henry VIII, Thomas More, and the Bishop of Rome." Quincentennial Essays. 89-107. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 113. On Henry's defence of Papal authority in the Assertio and the lack therof in More's polemical works. Marius argues that More was a Conciliarist at heart.] [1196] Oakley, F. "Headley, Marius and the Matter of More's `Conciliarism." Moreana 64 (1980): 82-88, with replies by J. Headley and R. Marius, 89-99. [1197] Sheldrake, P. "Authority and Consensus in Thomas More's Doctrine of the Church." HeythropJ 20 (1976): 146-62. [Focuses mainly on the Responsio and the Confutation. The authority of General Councils and Popes is based on consensus. More is "no papalist in the strict sense.") ^ [1198] ^ . "Thomas More and Authority." Month 2nd ns 10 (1977): 122-25, 134. [On General Councils and Papal primacy in More's theological writings (Responsio, Dialogue Concerning Heresies, and the Confutation).] [1199] Winkler, G. B. "Der Priester bei Thomas More: Vortridentinische Entwtirfe einer Amtsreform." Annarium Historia Conciliorum 8 (1976): 326-45. [On More's treatment of priesthood in Utopia, the Responsio, and the Confutation.] More and the Church Fathers [1200] Gordon, W. M. "The Answer to a Poisoned Book." See Answer to a Poisoned Book. [1201] Marc'hadour, G. "An 'Old Holy Father': Gregory of Nyssa." Moreana 35 (1972): 67-70. [1202] . "Fathers and Doctors of the Church." See Dialogue Concerning Heresies. ^ [1203] ^. "Saint JOrOme dans l'oeuvre et dans l'univers de Thomas More." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 93-124. [On More's use of St. Jerome in his writings, and on Erasmus' biography of St. Jerome and Durer's paintings of Jerome, etc.] [1204] Marius, R. C. "Thomas More and the Early Church Fathers." See Confutation of Tyndale's Answer. ^ [1205] ^. "The Pseudonymous Patristic Text in Thomas More's Confutation." See Confutation of Tyndale's Answer. [1206] Miles, L. "Patristic Comforters in More's Dialogue of Comfort." See Dialogue of Comfort. Thomas More Bibliography / 371 [1207] Oakley, F. "More, St. German, Gerson and Pseudo-Chrysostom on Matthew xxi, 12." See Apology, and Debellation. [1208] Prevost, A. "Thomas More: Contribution a l'histoire de la pensee religieuse." Theology Diss. Lille, 1945. [1209] Schoeck, R. J. "The Use of St. John Chrysostom in Sixteenth Century Controversy: Christopher St. German and Sir Thomas More in 1533." See Apology, and Debellation. [1210] Smith, Sr. M.-Th. "St. Augustine's Influence on St. Thomas More's English Works." Diss. Yale U, 1943. More: Spirituality [1211] Bishop, R. J. "Sir Thomas More: The Duty of a Christian." Humanities Association Bulletin (Humanities Association of Canada) 17:1 (1966): 21-32. [The duties of a Christian in More's letters, the Four Last Things, and the Dialogue Concerning Comfort.] [1212] Byron, B. Loyalty in the Spirituality of St. Thomas More. Bibliotheca Humanistica & Reformatorica 4. Nieuwkoop: De Graaf, 1972. [Rev.: (of Diss. Rome, 1966): H. Gibaud, Moreana 13 (1967): 89-94.] [1213] Donnelly, D. H. "The 'Size' of More (on His 500th Birthday)." Quincentennial Essays. 11-26. [Psychological growth and spiritual conversion in More's life.] [1214] Fisher, B. "English Spiritual Writers: St. Thomas More." ClergyR 45 (1960): 1-10. Rpt. in English Spiritual Writers. Ed. C. Davis. London: Burns & Oates; New York: Sheed & Ward, 1961. 74-83. Also rpt. in Essential Articles. 513-19. [On More, the London Charterhouse, Walter Hilton and lay spirituality.] [1215] Haupt, G. E. "The Personal and the Impersonal in the Late Works of Sir Thomas More." see Tower Works: General Studies. [1216] Jones, J. P. "'Thy Grace to Set the World at Nought:' The Mystical Element in the Works of Thomas More." Studio Mystica 3:2 (1980): 61-71. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 114. On More's Christocentric devotional writing in the Life of Picus, The Four Last Things and the 'Tower Works.'] [1217] Kung, H. Freiheit in der Welt. Zurich (Einsiedeln): Benziger, 1964. Trans. C. Hastings as Freedom in the World. Theological Meditations Edited by Hans Kling 3. London: Sheed & Ward, 1965. Trans. into Italian as La Liberty del Cristiano. Brescia: Quiriniana, 1967. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 6 (1965): 95-97. A profound meditation on Thomas More as "A Saint in the World." Not in the least bit hagiographical.] [1218] Lion, A. "Thomas More, utopiste et chretien." La vie spirituelle 124 (march 1971): 315-26. [1219] Mackay, J. "The Spirituality of Thomas More." Thomas More: The Rhetoric of Character. Ed. A. Fox and P. Leech. Dunedin: U of Otago (A University Extension Publication), 1979. 37-63, 106-10. [Sum.: P. Leech, ibid., 8-11; A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 115.] [1220] McConica, J. "The Patrimony of Thomas More." See Law and Politics. [1221] Marc'hadour, G. "Obedient unto Death: A Key to St. Thomas More." Spiritual Life 7 (1961): 205-22. Thomas More Bibliography / 372 ^[1222] ^. "St. Thomas More." Month ns 29 (1963): 69-84. Rpt. in Pre-Reformation English Spirituality. Ed. J. Walsh. London: Burns & Oates, 1965. 224-39, 285-86. ^ [1223] ^. "Sir Thomas More, Knight." See Law and Politics, ^[1224] ^. "Thomas More's Spirituality." St. Thomas More: Action and Contemplation. Ed. R. S. Sylvester. New Haven: Yale UP for St. John's University, 1972. 125-59. [1225] Martz, L. L. "Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man." Miscellanea Moreana. 397-416 + 3 plates. Rev. vers. as "The Search for the Inner Man." Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man. New Haven: Yale UP, 1990. 1-27, 103-06 + 4 plates. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 162-63, 257-58; A. M. 0' Donnell, CHR 77 (1991): 607-08. Defends More against the charges of Marius and Elton, and stresses the integrity of More's inner life. Martz makes some important comments on the vituperative style of More's polemical works and on his attitude towards heretics. Also comments on iconography (pp. 6-13), Martz warns against putting too much emphasis on the Frick portrait in judging More's character.] [1226] Meulon, H. "La devotion chez Thomas More." Moreana 19/20 (1968): 5-10. [1227] . "La docilite chez Thomas More." See Prison Letters and Prayers. [1228] O'Malley, J. W. "Thomas More's Spirituality Compared." Thought 52 (1977): 319-23. [1229] Reynolds, E. E. The Heart of Thomas More: Readings for Every day of the Year. London: Burns & Oates, 1966. [Rev.: C. W. Crawford, Moreana 12 (1966): 97-99. A collection of extracts from More's works illustrating his "personality and spirituality."] [1230] Schoeck, R. J. "On the Spiritual Life of St. Thomas More." Thought 52 (1977): 324-27. Thomas More and the Eucharist [1231] Byron, B. F. "From Essence to presence: A Shift in Eucharistic Expression Illustrated from The Apologetic of St. Thomas More." See A Treatise on the Passion. [1232] Foley, S. M., and C. H. Miller. "The Shape of the Eucharistic Controversy." See The Answer to a Poisoned Book. [1233] Gordon, W. M. "The Answer to a Poisoned Book." See The Answer to a Poisoned Book. Thomas More and the Bible [1234] Allen, W. "King James's Translators and Words on the Wing." Miscellanea Moreana. 27-38. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 153, 247. Comments (36-37) on the use of the word "wrangle" in the Confutation.] [1235] Cavanaugh, J. R. "The Interpretation and Use of Sacred Scripture in the Writings of St. Thomas More." Diss. U of Toronto, 1956. [Directed by A. E. Barker.] [1236] Chambers, R. W. "The Continuity of English Prose." See General Studies of More's Works. [1237] Hutchinson, F. E. "Sir Thomas More as a Translator of the Bible." RES 17 (1941): 1-10. [Rev.: N&Q 180 (1941): 163.] Thomas More Bibliography / 373 [1238] Lubac, H. de, "[Thomas More.]" Exegese medieuale: Les quatre sens de l'Ecriture. 4 vols. Paris: Aubier, Editions Montaigne, 1964. Second Part, II: 477-80. [1239] Marc'hadour, G. Thomas More et la bible. Paris: 1969. ^ [1240] ^. The Bible in the Works of St. Thomas More: A Repertory. Part I: The Old Testament. Part II: The Four Gospels. Part III: Acts, Epistles, Apocalypse. Part IV: Elements of Synthesis. Part V: Indexes, Supplements, Concordances. 2 vols. in 5 parts. Nieuwkoop: B. de Graaf, 1969-1972. [Rev.: W. L. Godshalk, RenQ 26 (1973): 210-12; J. P. Marmion, Moreana 26 (1970): 59-66.] ^ [1241] ^. "The Latin Vulgate in the Prose of Sixteenth-Century Humanists." Acta conventus Neo-Latini Amstelodamensis. 682-89. [1242] Marc'hadour, G., and T. M. C. Lawler. "Scripture in the Dialogue." See Dialogue Concerning Heresies. [1243] Massaut, J.-P. "L'humanisme chretien et la Bible: le cas de Thomas More." RHE 67 (1972): 92-112. [1244] Minns, D. P. "Thomas More's Use of Scripture in The Dialogue Concerning Heresies." See Dialogue Concerning Heresies. See also Polemical Works: More vs. Tyndale (1528-1533). Thomas More as a Translator [1245] Hutchinson, F. E. "Sir Thomas More as a Translator of the Bible." See Thomas More and the Bible. [1246] Marc'hadour, G. "More Self-Translator." Moreana 11 (1966): 71-73. [On two passages: one in the Responsio, translated in the Apology, and one in the Utopia, on mentiri vs. mendacium dicere (CW 4, 40/28-29), translated in the Debellation.] ^[1247] ^. Rev. of Confrontation at Worms. by De L. Jensen. See Responsio ad Lutherum. ^[1248] ^. "Thomas More traduit par lui-meme." Acta conventus Neo-Latini Turonensis. 463-70. [On Richard III and some passages in More's polemical works.] See also Translations of Lucian, and Life of Pico. Humour and Wit [1249] Bridgett, T. E., ed. "Introductory Essay on The Wisdom and Wit of Blessed Thomas [More]." The Wisdom and Wit of Blessed Thomas More. London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1892. 1-25. Pp. 11-25 rpt. as "The Wit of Thomas More." in Essential Articles. 481-88, 666. [1250] Dinnis, E. "Thomas More's Best Joke." Thought 2 (1928): 637-50. [1251] Gabrieli, V. "The Merry Tales of Sir Thomas More." La Cultura 12:1 (1974): 23-46. [1252] Gabrieli, V., ed. Thomas More: Fancies Sports and Merry Tales. Biblioteca Italiana di testi inglesi 22. Bari: Adriatica Editrice, 1974. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 43/44 (1974): 105-09. An anthology of extracts from More's works illustrating his humour.] Thomas More Bibliography / 374 [1253] Marsh, T. N. "Humor and Invective in Early Tudor Polemic Prose." Rice Institute Pamphlet 44:1 (1957): 79-89. [Summ.: T. Culbert, AES 1 (1958): 901. Humor and polemical technique in More, Tyndale and Fish.] [1254] Mason, H. A. "The Discovery of Wit: The Identity of Spirit in More and Erasmus." Humanism and Poetry in the Early Tudor Period. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul, 1959. 59-103. [1255] Nedoncelle, M. "L'humour d'Erasme et l'humour de Thomas More." Scrinium Erasmianum. Ed. J. Coppens. 2 vols. Leiden: E. J. Brill, 1969. 2: 547-67. [1256] O'Connell, W. E. "The Humor of the Gallows." The Omega Letter [Chicago] 1 (1966): 31-32.(?) [Summ.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 13 (1967): 108-09. Marc'hador quotes the passage on More from O'Connell in Moreana.] [1257] Pineas, R. "Thomas More's Use of Humor as a Weapon of Religious Controversy." SP 58 (1961): 97-114. [Summ.: W. 0. Harris, AES 4 (1961): 2266.] [1258] Thecla [Smith?], Sr. M. "S. Thomas More's `Merye Laughing Harvest." If By Your Art: Testament to Percival Hunt. Ed. A. L. Starrett. Pittsburgh: U of Pittsburgh P, 1948. 161-73. [1259] Thompson, C. R. "Erasmus, More, and the Conjuration of Spirits: The Possible Source of a Practical Joke." Moreana 24 (1969): 45-50. [Thompson tentatively identifies two Erasmian colloquies, the Coniugium and the Exorcismus sive spectrum as anecdotes about More.] [1260] Ziemer, P. "Humor and Faith in the Works of St. Thomas More." Moreana 91/92 (1986): 31-32. More and Humanism [1261] Brugmans, H. "Thomas More: humaniste europeen." La Revue Nouvelle [Tournai] 44 (1966): 3-20. [Summ.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana Index to Vol. II, p.13.] [1262] Bush, D. "Tudor Humanism and Henry VIII." UTQ 7 (1938): 162-77. [Criticizes R. W. Chambers, and J. S. Phillimore on "The Arrest of Humanism."] [1263] Fox, A. "Thomas More's Controversial Writings and His View of the Renaissance." See Polemical Works: General Studies. [1264] ^. "Chaucer, More, and English Humanism." See More and Chaucer. [1265] Gilmore, P. "The Program of Christian Humanism: Sir Thomas More and his Friends." The World of Humanism, 1453-1517. New York: Harper & Brothers, 1952. 211-15. [On More and Colet.] [1266] Janelle, P. "Humanisme et unite chretienne: John Fisher et Thomas More." See More and Fisher. [1267] Kristeller, P. 0. "Thomas More as a Renaissance Humanist." Moreana 65 (1980): 5-22. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 115.] [1268] Kristeller, P. 0., and H. Maier. Thomas Morus als Humanist. Zwei Essays. Gratia, Bamberger Schriften zur Renaissanceforshung 11. Bamberg: H. Kaiser-Verlag, 1982. [1269] Murphy, A. "Thomas More as Humanist Writer." HeythropJ 33 (1992): 437-40. [A review article.] Thomas More Bibliography / 375 [1270] Nelson, W. "Thomas More, Grammarian and Orator." PMLA 58 (1943): 334-52. Rpt. with corrections in Essential Articles. 150-60, 604-07. [On John Holt and the Latin epigrams to Lac Puerorum, and on More's later career as a Public Orator.] [1271] Phillimore, J. S. "Blessed Thomas More and the Arrest of Humanism." DublinR 153 (1913): 1-26. [On More's humanism and his English Works. Still worth reading. See also D. Bush, "Tudor Humanism and Henry VIII."] [1272] Schoeck, R. J. "Humanism in England." Humanism Beyond Italy. Vol. 2 of Renaissance Humanism: Foundations. Forms, and Legacy. Ed. A. Rabil, Jr. 3 vols. Philadelphia, PA: U of Pennsylvania P, 1988. 2: 5-38. [Mainly on Colet (7-10), Erasmus (10-12) and More (12-25).] [1273] Thompson, C. R. "The Humanism of More Reappraised." Thought 52 (1977): 231-48. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 115.] [1274] Trinkaus, C. "Thomas More and Humanist Tradition: Martyrdom and Ambiguity." The Scope of Renaissance Humanism. Ann Arbor: U of Michigan P, 1983. 422-36. Feminism and Education [1275] Benson, P. J. "The New Ideal in England: Thomas More, Juan Luis Vives and Richard Hyrde." The Invention of the Renaissance Woman: The Challenge of Female Independence in the Literature and Thought of Italy and England. University Park, PA: Pennsylvania State UP, 1992. 157-81. [1276] Graham, H. "Saint Thomas More and Christian Education." Thought 11 (1936): 19-33. [1277] Jones, J. P., and S. S. Seibel. "Thomas More's Feminism: To Reform or Re-Form." Quincentennial Essays. 67-77. [A rather crude feminist reading. See L. C. Khanna for a much more nuanced approach to More's "feminism."] [1278] Khanna, L. C. "Images of Women in Thomas More's Poetry." See Latin Epigrams. [1279] —. "No Less Real Than Ideal: Images of Women in More's Work." See Richard III: Shore's Wife. [1280] Marc'hadour, G. "Thomas More and His Foursome of 'Blessed Holy Women.'" Thomas-Morus-Gesellschaft Jahrbuch 1983/84. Ed. H. Boventer. Dusseldorf: Triltsch, 1984. 113-30. [1281] McCutcheon, E. "The Education of Thomas More's Daughters: Concepts and Praxis." East Meets West: Homage to Edgar C. Knowlton, Jr. Eds. R. L. Hadlich and J. D. Ellsworth. Honolulu, HI: Published by the Department of European Languages and Literature, University of Hawaii, 1988. 193-207. [Rev.: J. A. McGoldrick, Moreana 103 (1990): 89-92.] [1282] Murphy, C. M. "On the Women in More's Life: Two Recent Works." Moreana 82 (1984): 109-17. [1283] Murray, F. G. "Feminine Spirituality in the More Household." Moreana 27/28 (1970): 92-102. [1284] Sowards, J. K. "Erasmus and the Education of Women." SCJ 13:4 (1982): 77-89. Thomas More Bibliography / 376 ^ [1285] ^. "On Education: More's Debt to Erasmus" Miscellanea Moreana. 103-23. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 155-56, 249-50.] [1286] Warnicke, R. "Women and Humanism in England." Humanism Beyond Italy. Vol. 2 of Renaissance Humanism: Foundations, Forms, and Legacy. Ed. A. Rabil, Jr. 3 vols. Philadelphia, PA: U of Pennsylvania P, 1988. 2: 39-54. [Corrects earlier exaggerated claims by others on the numbers of 'humanistically' educated women in England. She also deals with the School of More (39-41, 47-48), and on More's influence on the education of women in England.] [1287] Weinberg, C. "Thomas More and the Use of English in Early Tudor Education." Moreana 59/60 (1978): 21-30. B.3. MORE'S EARLY BIOGRAPHERS, EDITORS, AND ICONOGRAPHERS General Studies [1288] Anderegg, M. A. "The Tradition of Early More Biography." Essential Articles. 3-25, 583-86. ^ [1289] ^. "Utopia and Early More Biography: Another View." Moreana 33 (1972): 23-29. [A reply to J. J. Greene's article.] [1290] Burchfield, R. "A Profile of the Grammar of Three Sixteenth-Century Lives of Sir Thomas More and of an Unrelated 'drab' Prose Work by Anthony Gilby." England and the Continental Renaissance: Essays in Honour of J. B. Trapp. Ed. E. Chaney and P. Mack. Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell P, 1990. 109-24. [Burchfield uses three lives of St. Thomas More: Roper (1558), Hapsfield (1559), Ro. Ba. (1599), and a work of Anthony Gilby's (1585) to illustrate distinctive features of C. S. Lewis' `drab age' prose.] [1291] Chambers, R. W. "The Saga and the Myth of Sir Thomas More." See General Studies of More's Works. [1292] Derrett, J. D. M. "St. Thomas More and the Would-be Suicide." DownsideR 88 (1970): 372-77. [Deals with a couple of incidents from early More biographies and apocrypha.] [1293] Greene, J. J. "Utopia and Early More Biography." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 199-208. [1294] Schutt, M. "Die Biographien Sir Thomas Mores," and "Cher die verschiedenen Bearbeitungen des More-Stoffes." Die englische Biographik de Tudor-Zeit. Hamburg: Friederichsen, de Gruyter & Co., 1930. 58-77, 138-40. [Some sections also listed separately.] Biographers: Erasmus (Allan #999) Editions and Translations [1295] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. "Life of Sir Thomas More by Erasmus." Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. 1-9. [English translation.] [1296] Buhr-Ohlmeyer, H. William Roper: Das Leben des Thomas Morus. See Early Biographers: William Roper. Thomas More Bibliography / 377 [1297] Campbell, M., ed. "Letter of Erasmus to Von Hutton." The Utopia of Sir Thomas More. Toronto and New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1947. 185-204. [Translation.] [1298] Greene, J. J., and J. P. Dolan, eds. "Letter of Erasmus to Ulrich von Hutten." The Essential Thomas More. New York: Mentor, 1967. 286-94. [Translation.] [1299] Marc'hadour, G., trans. "Thomas More vu par Erasme." Saint Thomas More: Lettre Dorp—La Supplication des Ames. Namur: Le Soleil Levant, 1962. 3-35. [Rev.: P. Mesnard, Moreana 1 (1963): 30-39. French translation.] [1300] ^. Thomas More vu par Erasme. Angers: Editions Moreana, 1969. [Latin text and French translation, together with 150 page commentary.] [1301] Nichols, F. M., trans. "Erasmus to Ulrich von Hutten." Epistles of Erasmus. 3 vols. London: Longmans, Green and Co., 1901-1918. Rpt. New York: Russell and Russell, 1962. 3: 387-99. Rpt. in Utopia: A New Translation, Backgrounds, Criticism. Ed. R. M. Adams. New York: W. W. Norton & Co., 1975. 127-33. Rpt. 2nd rev. ed. 1992. 125-33. [1302] Olin, J., ed. Thomas More, 7 February 1477-6 July 1535: A Portrait in Words by his Friend Erasmus. On the Occasion of the Conference Marking the Quincentennial of the Birth of St. Thomas More, Kt. Held at the University on February 10th and 11th.... New York: Fordham UP, 1977. 14 pages + 1 plate. [Adapted from the translation of F. M. Nichols.] Studies [1303] Phillips, M. M. "Erasmus and Biography." UTQ 42 (1971): 185-201. [Sees Erasmus' biography of More as Suetonian in inspiration.] Biographers: William Roper (1496-78) Editions [1304] Campbell, M., ed. "Roper's Life of More." The Utopia of Sir Thomas More. Toronto and New York: D. Van Nostrand, 1947. 207-80. [Modern spelling version.] [1305] Cline, J. M., ed. The Lyfe of Sir Thomas Moore, Knighte. New York: The Swallow Press and William Morrow and Co., 1950. [Rev.: L. Bradner, RenN 3 (1950): 44-45.] [1306] Creeth, E., ed. "The Lyfe of Sir Thomas Moore, knighte." By William Roper. Tudor Prose, 1513-1570. Garden City, NY: Anchor Books (Doubleday), 1969. 81-136, 474-84. [Follows Hitchcock's edition.] [1307] Eliot, W., ed. The Life of Sir Thomas More. By William Roper. Machiavelli, More, Luther. Vol. 36 of The Harvard Classics. 50 vols. New York: P. F. Collier & Son, 1910. 36: 89-134. [Modern spelling version.] [1308] Hitchcock, E. V., ed. The Lyfe of Sir Thomas Moore, Knighte. By William Roper. Early English Text Society 197. London: Humphrey Milford, Oxford UP, 1935. [The standard edition.] [1309] Lumby, J. R., ed. The Life of Sir Thomas More. By William Roper. More's Utopia. Cambridge: Cambridge UP (Pitt Press Series), 1879. Rpt. 1956. v-lvi. [Rpt. of Hearne's 1716 edition.] Thomas More Bibliography / 378 [1310] Reynolds, E. E., ed. "Life by William Roper." Lives of Saint Thomas More. By William Roper and Nicholas Harpsfield. London: Dent (Everyman's Library), 1963. 1-50. [A modernized spelling version based on the EETS edition.] [1311] Sylvester, R. S., and D. P. Harding, eds. "The Life of Sir Thomas More." Two Tudor Lives. The Life and Death of Cardinal Wolsey, by George Cavendish and The Life of Sir Thomas More, by William Roper. New Haven: Yale UP, 1962. 195-254. [Modernized spelling editions of Roper and Cavendish's Lives.] [1312] The Mirrour of Vertue in Worldly Greatnes or the Life of Sir Thomas More Knight. By William Roper. London: Alexander Moring (The De La More Press), 1903. 5-102. [Also contains some of More's 'Prison Letters.'] Selections [1313] Allen, P. S., and H. M. Allen, eds. "From the Life of Sir Thomas More by William Roper, His Son-in-Law." Sir Thomas More: Selections from His English Works and from the Lives by Erasmus and Roper. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1924. 10-34. [1314] Trapp, J. B., ed. "William Roper: The Life of Sir Thomas More." The Middle Ages through the Eighteenth Century. Vol. 1 of The Oxford Anthology of English Literature. Ed. J. Hollander and F. Kermode. 2 vols. London: Oxford UP, 1973. 575-78. Translations [1315] Buhr-Ohlmeyer, H. William Roper: Das Leben des Thomas Morus. [Im Anhang u.a.: Brief des Erasmus (fiber Morus) an Ulrich von Hutten von 23.7.1519.] Intro. A. Ohlmeyer. Heidelberg: L. Schneider, 1986. [Rev.: U. Baumann, Moreana 94 (1987): 53-54. German translation, also includes translation of Erasmus' letter to Ulrich von Hutten (see review).] Studies [1316] Anderson, J. H. "Roper: Deliberated Design and Designer." Biographical Truth: The Representation of Historical Persons in Tudor-Stuart Writing. New Haven: Yale UP, 1984. 40-51, 210-2. [Rev.: D. Woolf, Queen's Quarterly 94 (1987): 147-51.] [1317] Crewe, J. V. "The Encomium Moriae of William Roper." ELH 55 (1988): 287-307. [One of the silliest articles ever written about More: suggests incestuous relationships ("nudge- nudge, wink-wink") between More and Margaret Roper.] [1318] Donner, H. W. "The Emperor and Sir Thomas Elyot." RES ns 2 (1951): 55-59. [On a parallel between Roper's Life of More and Elyot's On the Knowledge which maketh a Wise Man.] [1319] Hogrefe, P. "Sir Thomas More's Connection with the Roper Family." See More's Family, Friends and Descendants: Sixteenth Century. [1320] Marius, R. "Reflections on Writing the Biography of a Saint." See Modern Biographers, Editors, and Scholars. [1321] McGuire, J. "William Roper's Life of More: The Working Methods of a Tudor Biographer." Moreana 23 (1969): 59-65. [On Roper's Use of More's last letters (Rogers #197-216).] Thomas More Bibliography / 379 [1322] Person, J. E., Jr., ed. Literature Criticism from 1400 to 1800. Detroit: Gale Research Inc., 1989. Vol. 10: 457-88. [Rev.: E. McCutcheon, Moreana 101/102 (1990): 209-11. Part of a multi-volume series. Excerpts from secondary criticism on Roper. See also Surveys of Criticism.] [1323] Pollard, A. F. "Sir Thomas More and Sir Thomas Elyot." TLS 17 July 1930: 592. [Letter. See H. W. Donner, "The Emperor and Sir Thomas Elyot."] [1324] Reynolds, E. E. "Tille valle, Tylle valle." Moreana 3 (1964): 102. [A brief note.] [1325] Schutt, M. "Roper and Harpsfield." Die englische Biographik de Tudor-Zeit. Hamburg: Friederichsen, de Gruyter & Co., 1930. 58-70. [1326] Stauffer, D. A. English Biography Before 1700. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1930. Rpt. New York: Russell & Russell, 1964. 129-33. [1327] Sylvester, R. S. "Roper's Life of More." Moreana 36 (1972): 47-59. Rpt. with revisions in Essential Articles. 189-97, 614-15. [1328] Wooden, W. W. "Structural Patterning in William Roper's Life of More." Moreana 64 (1980): 100-06. Biographers: Nicholas Harpsfield (1519-1575) Editions [1329] Hitchcock, E. V., ed. The Life and Death of Sr Thomas Moore, knight, sometymes Lord high Chancellor of England. By Nicholas Harpsfield. With an intro. by R. W. Chambers. Early English Texts Society 186. London: Humphrey Milford, Oxford UP, 1932. [Rev.: TLS 18 Aug. 1932: 578. Cited as "Harpsfield, Life of More."] [1330] Reynolds, E. E., ed. "Life by Nicholas Harpsfield." Lives of Saint Thomas More. By William Roper and Nicholas Harpsfield. London: Dent (Everyman's Library), 1963. 51-175. [A modernized spelling version based on the EETS edition.] Selections [1331] Dickens, A. G., and D. Carr, eds. "Thomas More Discharges His Conscience." The Reformation in England to the Accession of Elizabeth I: Documents in Modern History. London: Edward Arnold, 1967. 70-72. [Brief extract from Hitchcock's edition of Harpsfield's Life.] [1332] Gabrieli, V., and G. Melchiori, eds. "Appendix B: Harpsfield." Sir Thomas More. A Play by Anthony Munday and Others. Revised by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood and William Shakespeare. The Revels Plays. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1990. 242-44. [Two short excerpts from Harpsfield's edition.] [1333] MacDonald, H., ed. "Sir Thomas More." Portraits in Prose: A Collection of Characters. London: George Routledge & Sons, 1946. 5-8. [Two brief extracts from Harpsfield's Life of More.] [1334] Metz, G. H., ed. "From The Life and death of S r Thomas Moore, knight, sometymes Lord high Chancellor of England." By Nicholas Harpsfield. Sources of Four Plays Ascribed to Shakespeare: The Reign of King Edward III, Sir Thomas More, The History of Cardenio, The Two Noble Kinsmen. Columbia, MO: U of Missouri P, 1989. 236-49. [Extract from Hitchcock's edition.] Thomas More Bibliography / 380 [1335] Nugent, E. M., ed. "Life of Sir Thomas More." The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 550-59. [Haprsfield's account of More's Indictment from Hitchcock's edition with spelling modernized.] [1336] Ross, J. B., and M. M. McLaughlin, eds. "Nicholas Harpsfield: St. Thomas More." The Portable Renaissance Reader. New York: Viking P, 1953. 492-500. [An excerpt in modernized spelling from Hitchcock's edition.] Studies [1337] Anderegg, M. A. "Nicholas Harpsfield, Thomas More, and William Roper's Lapse into Heresy." N&Q ns 23 (1976): 225-26. [On Harpsfield's treatment of Roper's lapse into heresy, and on certain parallels with the Dialogue Concerning Heresies.] [1338] Schutt, M. "Roper and Harpsfield." See Early Biographers: William Roper. Biographers: Thomas Stapleton Editions and Translations [1339] Hallett, P. E., trans. The Life and Illustrious Martyrdom of Sir Thomas More. By Thomas Stapleton. London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1928. Rev. ed. annotated by E. E. Reynolds. London: Burns & Oates, 1966. Rpt. New York: Fordham UP, 1984. [Rev.: TLS 23 Aug. 1928: 600; M. Richards, Morearza 17 (1968): 64-65; G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 94 (1987): 81-82.] [1340] Stapleton, Thomas. Tres Thomae, seu de S. Thomae Apostoli rebus gestis. De S. Thoma Archiepiscopo Cantuariensi et Martyre. De T. Mori Angliae quondam Cancellarii vita. Douai: Borgardus, 1588. [1341] . Vita Thomae Mori. Frankfort and Leipzig: C. Gensch, 1689. Rpt. (Unveranderter Nachdruck.) Frankfurt: Minerva, 1964. [Rev.: H. H. HerbrUggen, RenN 18 (1965): 139-41. Facsimile reprint. Actually included as the introduction to the 1689 edition of More's Latin Opera omnia. See also General Editions of Thomas More's Works.] Selections [1342] Gabrieli, V., trans. "Appendix C: Stapleton." Sir Thomas More. A Play by Anthony Munday and Others. Revised by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood and William Shakespeare. Ed. V. Gabrieli and G. Melchiori. The Revels Plays. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1990. 245-48. [Two short excerpts.] [1343] Metz, G. H., ed. "From Vita et Illustre Martyrium Thomas Mori, Angliae Quondam Supremi Cancellarii." By Thomas Stapleton. Sources of Four Plays Ascribed to Shakespeare: The Reign of King Edward III, Sir Thomas More, The History of Cardenio, The Two Noble Kinsmen. Columbia, MO: U of Missouri P, 1989. 217-24. [Extract from Hallett's translation.] Studies [1344] Cepress, Sr. M. C. "Thomas Stapleton's Vita Mori: A Critical Analysis and History." Diss. Catholic U of America, Washington DC, 1952. Thomas More Bibliography / 381 [1345] Crawford, C. W. "Thomas Stapleton and More's Letter to Bugenhagen." See Letter to Bugenhagen. [1346] Marc'hadour, G. "Thomas Stapleton's Use of More's English Works (1557) in his Vita Thomae Mori (1588)." Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Torontonensis. 83-90. [1347] ^. "Tres Thomae." Proceedings of the PMR Conference 10 (1985): 23-40. [Rev.: D. F. Donnelly, Moreana 98/99 (1988): 109-10.] [1348] Schutt, M. "Stapleton." Die englische Biographik de Tudor-Zeit. Hamburg: Friederichsen, de Gruyter & Co., 1930. 70-74. [1349] Stauffer, D. A. English Biography Before 1700. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1930. Rpt. New York: Russell & Russell, 1964. 133-34. Biographers: Ro. Ba. [Robert Basset?] Editions [1350] Hitchcock, E. V., and P. E. Hallett, eds. The Life of Syr Thomas More, Sometymes Lord Chancellour of England. By Ro: Ba:. Early English Text Society 222. London: Oxford UP, 1950. [1351] Wordsworth, C., ed. "Sir Thomas More." By Ro. Ba. in Ecclesiastical Biography. 4 vols. London: Francis & John Rivington, 1810; 4th ed. 1853. 2: 43-185. [First printed edition of Ro. Ba.'s biography.] Selections [1352] Metz, G. H., ed. "From The Lyfe of Syr Thomas More, Sometymes Lord Chancellor of England." By Ro: Ba:. Sources of Four Plays Ascribed to Shakespeare: The Reign of King Edward III, Sir Thomas More, The History of Cardenio, The Two Noble Kinsmen. Columbia, MO: U of Missouri P, 1989. 225-36. [Extract from Hitchcock's edition.] Studies [1353] Peebles, B. M. "Easell vs. Eisell: A Lexicographical Lapse." Moreana 39 (1973): 37-38. [On an omission from the O.E.D.: Ro. Ba.'s use of `easell'—echoed in R. W. Chambers and Robert Bolt.] [1354] Reed, A. W. "A Short Account of Sir Robert Basset of Umberleigh and Heanton Court near Barnstople in Devon (1573/4-1641)." The Life of Syr Thomas More, Sometymes Lord Chancellour of England. By Ro: Ba:. Ed. E. V. Hitchcock and P. E. Hallett. Early English Text Society 222. London: Oxford UP, 1950. 301-10. [1355] Schutt, M. "Ro. Ba." Die englische Biographik de Tudor-Zeit. Hamburg: Friederichsen, de Gruyter & Co., 1930. 74-77. Biographers: Cresacre More Editions [1356] Hunter, J., ed. The Life of Sir Thomas More. London: 1828. Thomas More Bibliography / 382 Studies [1357] Garavaglia, G. P. "Cresacre and Thomas More During the English Revolution, 1640-1660." See More's Family and Descendants: Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries. [1358] Reed, A. W. "From Thomas More to Cresacre More." The Life of Syr Thomas More, Sometymes Lord Chancellour of England. By Ro: Ba:. Ed. E. V. Hitchcock and P. E. Hallett. Early English Text Society 222. London: Oxford UP, 1950. 311-14. Ellis Heywood's Il Moro Editions [1359] Heywood, Ellis. 11 Moro: Ellis Heywood's Dialogue in Memory of Thomas More. Ed. R. L. Deakins. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1972. [Rev.: P. Winder and F. B. Williams, Jr., Moreana 52 (1976): 103-06.] Studies [1360] Deakins, R. L. "Introduction." II Moro: Ellis Heywood's Dialogue in Memory of Thomas More. Cambridge, MA: Harvard UP, 1972. ix-xxxvii. [1361] Kinney, A. F. Humanist Poetics: Thought, Rhetoric, and Fiction in Sixteenth-century England. Amherst, MA: U of Massachusetts P, 1986. 151-53, 475. [1362] Rhodes, D. E. "Il Moro: An Italian View of Sir Thomas More." England and the Continental Renaissance: Essays in Honour of J. B. Trapp. Ed. E. Chaney and P. Mack. Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell P, 1990. 67-71. [Brief biography of Ellis Heywood. Heywood was a man of one book. Lists locations of copies of 11 Moro.] [1363] Vian, N. "San Tommaso More tra la Saga e it Mito." Miscellanea Pio Paschini, Studi di Storia Ecclesiastica. II (1949): 213-22. [Cited by Deakins.] Biographers: Other Early Biographers and Recusant Reputation [1364] Doyle, C. G. "Baring Some Facts." Moreana 95/96 (1987): 17-19. [1365] Geritz, A. J. "John Aubrey's Brief Life of More: Facts, Half-Truths, or Fictions?" Miscellanea Moreana. 223-31. [1366] Gairdner, J., ed. "A Letter Concerning Bishop Fisher and Sir Thomas More." EHR 7 (1892): 712-15. Rpt. with modernized spelling as "John Bouge: Letter to Katheryn Manne." The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Ed. E. M. Nugent. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 547-49. [John Bouge's "Letter to Katheryn Manne.") [1367] Surtz, E. "Richard Pace's Sketch of Thomas More." JEGP 57 (1958): 36-50. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 180-88, 611-14. [Summ.: J. McKiernan, AES 1 (1958): 1149.] [1368] Trevor-Roper, H. R. "Sir Thomas More and the English Lay Recusants." Men and Events: Historical Essays. New York: Harper, 1957. Rpt. New York: Octagon Books, 1976. 91-97. William Rastell's 1557 Edition and Other Early Editions [1369] Billingsley, D. B. "The Editorial Design of the 1557 English Works." Moreana 89 (1986): 39-48. Thomas More Bibliography / 383 [1370] Bruce, J. "Observations upon Certain Inaccuracies in the Published Letters of Sir Thomas More." Archaeologia 30 (1844): 149-59. [On the changes that Rastell made to the 'Prison Letters' in the 1557 edition.] [1371] Delcourt, M. "Recherches sur Thomas More: la tradition continentale et la tradition anglaise." Humanisme et Renaissance 3 (1936): 22-42. [1372] Keen, R. "Appendix E, The Printer's Copy for the Supplication of Souls in the 1557 English Works." See The Supplication of Souls. [1373] McConica, J. K. "The Recusant Reputation of Thomas More." CCHA 30 (June 1964): 47-61. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 136-49, 603-04. Rev. vers. rpt. as "Appendix II: The Recusant Traditions of Thomas More." English Humanists and Reformation Politics. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1965. 286-94. [1374] Marc'hadour, G. "Three Tudor Editors of Thomas More." Editing Sixteenth Century Texts: Papers Given at the Editorial Conference, October, 1965. Ed. R. J. Schoeck. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1966. 59-71. [Rev.: J. A. B. Somerset, Moreana 14 (1967): 32-34. On the 1553, 1557 and 1573 editions of The Dialogue of Comfort, and on editorial changes to the scriptural quotations in these editions.] [1375] Reed, A. W. "William Rastell and More's English Works." in EW 1931, 1: 1-12. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 436-46, 663; [1376] Wilson, K. J. "Introduction." The Workes of Sir Thomas More Knyght, sometyme Lord Chancellour of England, wrytten by him in the Englysh tonge. London: J. Cawood, J. Waly, A. R. Tottell, 1557. Rpt. in Scolar Press Facsimiles. London: Scolar P, 1978. 2 vols. with an intro. by K. J. Wilson. [v]-[xiv]. More: Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics [1377] Bek, L. "Thomas More on the Double Portrait of Erasmus and Pierre Gillis: Humanist Rhetoric or Renaissance Art Theory?" Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Gulepherbytani. 469-79. [1378] Brockwell, M. W. Catalogue of the Pictures in the Collection of Lord St. Oswald at Nostell Priory. 1915. [Contains a description of the Rowland Locky copy of Holbein's portrait of More's family.] [1379] Campbell, L. et al. "Quentin Matsys, Desiderius Erasmus, Pieter Gillis and Thomas More." Burlington Magazine 120 (1978): 716-25 + 3 plates. [1380] Carpenter, N. C. "A Song for all Seasons: Sir Thomas More and Music." Comparative Literature 33 (1981): 113-36. [Rev.: H. Garey, Moreana 71/72 (1981): 173-74. See also Carpenter's articles in Latin Epigrams.] [1381] Cust, L. "The Family of Sir Thomas More by Hans Holbein." Burlington Magazine 22 (1912/13): 43-44. [1382] Ganz, P. Festschrift zur Eroffnung des Kunstmuseums. Basel: 1936. 141-53. [1383] Keen, R. "Thomas More and Geometry." Moreana 86 (1985): 151-65. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 117. On More's copy of Euclid, his knowledge of Geometry, the forms of argumentation in his polemical works (Keen uses the Supplication as an example), and on the modern revolution in Mathematics. Catholic =Euclidean; Protestant=Non-Euclidean Geometries.] Thomas More Bibliography / 384 [1384] Kurz, 0. "Holbein and Others in a Seventeenth Century Collection." Burlington Magazine 83 (1943): 279-82. [On the fate of Holbein's portrait of More's family.] [1385] ^. "Rowland Locky." Burlington Magazine 99 (1957): 13-16 + 1 plate. [On the painter of two copies (1593-98?) of More's family portrait made by Holbein (1526-27?).] [1386] Leech, P. "Introduction." Thomas More: The Rhetoric of Character. Ed. A. Fox and P. Leech. Dunedin: U of Otago (A University Extension Publication), 1979. 3-15, 101-03. [Some interesting comments on the Frick Portrait (pp. 3-6), plus summaries of contributions.] [1387] Martinet, M.-M. "Le livre dans les tableaux de la Renaissance: Perspective directe ou prespective inverse?" L'Europe de la Renaissance: Cultures et Civilisations. Melanges offerts a Marie-Therese Jones-Davies. Paris: Jean Touzot, 1988. 103-08. [Mentions Quentin Matsys diptych and Holbein-Locky portraits of More.] [1388] Martz, L. L. "Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man." See Spirituality. [1389] Merriam, T. "Unveiling of the More Family Portrait at Nostell Priory." Moreana 79/80 (1983): 111-16. [1390] Morison, S., and N. Barker. The Likeness of Thomas More: An Iconographical Survey of Three Centuries. New York: Fordham UP, 1963. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 2 (1964): 85-89.] [1391] Munhall, E., ed. "Thomas More." Masterpieces of the Frick Collection. Intro. H. D. M. Grier. New York: The Frick Collection (Distributed by The Viking Press), 1970. 42-43. [1392] Norrington, R. The Household of Sir Thomas More. A Portrait by Hans Holbein, described by Ruth Norrington. Waddesdon, Bucks.: The Kylin Press, 1984. [Rev.: R. Sander-Regier, Moreana 94 (1987): 47-48. Contains brief descriptions of each of the figures in the portrait.] [1393] Pacht, 0. "Holbein and Kratzer as Collaborators." Burlington Magazine 84 (1944): 132, 134-39 + 3 Plates. [Identifies Kratzer as the author of the inscriptions on the Holbein cartoon of More's family sent to Erasmus in Basel.] [1394] Piper, D. "Holbein the Younger in England." Journal of the Royal Society of Arts 111 (1963): 736-55. [Seminal article on Holbein's portraiture. Describes the complex ironies and ambiguities of Holbein's artistic vision.] [1395] Reynolds, E. E. "A Note on John Donne." See More's Family, Friends and Descendents: Sixteenth Century. [1396] "St. Thomas More." The Venerabile 23 (1964-66): 348. [Summ.: F. Murray, Moreana 19/20 (1968): 100. A Note on two portraits (c1600 and 1811) of More at the English College in Rome.] [1397] "Sir Thomas More by Holbein." Catholic Lawyer 2 (1956): 120-22. Rpt. ibid. 17 (1971): 289-91. [Brief description of the painting.] [1398] "The Famous Picture of Sir Thomas More." N&Q 161 (1931): 1, 49, 87, 195-96, 227-28. See also "Portraits of Sir Thomas More." N&Q 77 (1888): 87, 170, 272. [1399] "Thomas More." The Frick Collection: An Illustrated Catalogue. 8? vols. New York: The Frick Collection (Distributed by Princeton UP), 1968. 1: 228-33. Thomas More Bibliography / 385 [1400] Trapp, J. B. "Supplementa Iconographica Moreana: Portraits of Thomas More in Italy and in Spain." Moreana 62 (1979): 73-82. Rpt. in Essays on the Renaissance and the Classical Tradition. London: Variorum Reprints, 1990. X: 73-82. [1401] ^. "Thomas More and the Visual Arts." Saggi sul Rinascimento. Ed. S. Rossi. Milan: Edizioni Unicopli, 1984. 27-54. Rpt. in Essays on the Renaissance and the Classical Tradition. London: Variorum Reprints, 1990. VIII: 27-54 + 'Additions and Corrections': 2. [1402] Trapp, J. B., and H. S. Herbruggen. The King's Good Servant: Sir Thomas More, 147711478-1535. London, The Boydell Press; Totowa, NJ: Rowman and Littlefield, 1977. [Catalogue of the exhibition held at the National Portrait Gallery, 25 November 1977 to 12 March 1978 to commemorate the quincentenary of More's birth. Includes some reproductions.] [1403] "Two Little-Known Pictures by Holbein in England." Burlington Magazine 83 (1943): 285-86 + 1 plate. [A portrait of Dame Alice More by Holbein.] [1404] Wilson, K. J. "More and Holbein: The Imagination of Death." SCJ 7:1 (1976): 51-59. See also Exhibitions and Libraries, etc. B.4. MORE'S FAMILY Margaret Roper Editions [1405] DeMolen, R., ed. "A Devout Treatise Upon the Pater Noster ... by Desiderius Erasmus. Translated by Margaret More Roper." Erasmus of Rotterdam: A Quincentennial Symposium. Ed. R. DeMolen. New York: Twayne, 1971. 93-124, 139-40. [1406] Marc'hadour, G., ed. "Erasmus' Paraphrase of the Pater Noster (1523) with its English Translation by Margaret Roper (1524)." Moreana 7 (1964): 9-63. [1407] Robineau, M.-C., ed. "A Devout Treatise Upon the Pater Noster by Desiderius Erasmus. Translated by Margaret More Roper." Moreana (1966) 9: 65-92 + 10: 91-110 + 11: 109-118. [Modernized English text of Margaret Roper's translation, together with a French translation (of the English) on facing pages.] [1408] Robineau, M.-C., et al., eds. "Correspondance entre Erasme et Margaret Roper." Moreana 12 (1966): 29-46, 121. [Allen #1404, #2211, #2233 and Rogers #108.] Excerpts [1409] McCutcheon, E. "The Learned Woman in Tudor England: Margaret More Roper." See Studies. [1410] Nugent, E. M., ed. "A Treatise upon the Pater Noster." The Thought and Culture of the English Renaissance: An Anthology of Tudor Prose, 1481-1555. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1956. 428-33. [An excerpt from Margaret Roper's translation of A Devout Treatise.] Thomas More Bibliography / 386 Studies [1411] Beilin, E. V. "Learning and Virtue: Margaret More Roper." Redeeming Eve: Women Writers of the English Renaissance. Princeton, NJ: Princeton UP, 1987. 3-28, 291-95. [A crude and rather bitter feminist reading: attacks humanist views on the education of women, and tries to debunk Margaret Roper as More's 'virtuous' daughter.] [1412] Bene, C. "Cadeau d'Erasme a Margaret Roper: Deux hymnes de Prudence." Miscellanea Moreana. 469-80. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 165, 260.] [1413] Fuller, Thomas. "Margaret Roper." The Worthies of England. (1662). Ed. J. Freeman. London: George Allen & Unwin, 1952. 358-59. [Margaret Roper among the 'worthies' of England!] [1414] Gee, J. A. "Margaret Roper's English Version of Erasmus' Precatio Dominica and the Apprenticeship Behind Early Tudor Translation." RES 13 (1937): 257-71. [1415] Kaufman, P. I. "Absolute Margaret: Margaret More Roper And 'Well Learned' Men." SCJ 20 (1991): 443-56. [Summ.: p.443.] [1416] McCutcheon, E. "Margaret More Roper's Translation of Erasmus' Precatio Dominica." Acta Conventus Neo-Latini Guelpherbytani. 659-66. ^ [1417] ^ "The Learned Woman in Tudor England: Margaret More Roper." Women Writers of the Renaissance and Reformation. Ed. K. M. Wilson. Athens, GA: U of Georgia P, 1987. 449-80. [A sensitive and nuanced treatment of Margaret Roper, and of her relationship with her illustrious father. Includes a bibliography (477-80), and excerpts from the Devout Treatise and letters (465-77).] [1418] Marc'hadour, G. "Erasmus Englished by Margaret More." ClergyR 43 (1958): 78-91. ^ [1419] ^. "Funiculus Triplex Margaret Roper and Thomas More." Moreana 78 (1983): 93-97. [1420] Reynolds, E. E. Margaret Roper: Eldest Daughter of St. Thomas More. London: Burns & Oates, 1960. [1421] Verbrugge, R. M. "Margaret More Roper's Personal Expression in the Devout Treatise Upon the Pater Noster." Silent But for the Word: Tudor Women as Patrons, Translators, and Writors of Religious Works. Ed. M. P. Hannay. Kent, OH: Kent State UP, 1985. 30-42, 260-64. [1422] Wright, N. E. "The Name and the Signature of the Author of Margaret Roper's Letter to Alice Alington." Creative Imitation: New Essays on Renaissance Literature in Honor of Thomas M. Greene. Ed. D. Quint, M. W. Ferguson, G. W. Pigman III, W. A. Rebhorn. Binghampton, NY: MRTS 95, 1992. 239-57. [Summ.: D. Quint and M. W. Ferguson, ibid., p.3. A Foucaultian feminist analysis.] See also Prison Letters and Prayers, and Feminism and Education. John More Editions [1423] Blackburn, E. B., ed. "John More's 'A sermon of the ... Aulter.'" Moreana 2 (1964): 5-36. ^ [1424] ^. "The Legacy of Prester John' by Damido a Goes and John More." Moreana 14 (1967): 37-98. Thomas More Bibliography / 387 Studies [1425] Hogrefe, P. "John More's Translations." PBSA 49 (1955): 188-89. [1426] Kraye, J. "Erasmus and the Canonization of Aristotle: The Letter to John More." England and the Continental Renaissance: Essays in Honour of J. B. Trapp. Ed. E. Chaney and P. Mack. Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell P, 1990. 37-49. Dame Alice More [1427] Boswell, J. C. "Poor Lady More." Renaissance Papers, 1991. 31 -41. [1428] Condren, C. "Dame Alice More and Xanthippe: Sisters to Mistress Quickly?" Moreana 64 (1980): 59-64. [1429] Derrett, J. D. M. "More's Attainder and Dame Alice's Predicament." Moreana 6 (1965): 9-26. [1430] Geritz, A. J. "More's Remarriage: Or, Dame Alice Vindicated." Indiana Social Studies Quarterly 37:2 (1984): 47-56. [1431] Marc'hadour, G. "Supplique de Dame Alice More au Chancelier Audley (1538?)." Moreana 4 (1964): 69-75. [1432] Maynard, T. "Poor Lady More." America 50 (1934): 397-98. [1433] Norrington, R. In the Shadow of a Saint: Lady Alice More. Waddesdon, Bucks.: The Kylin Press, 1983. [1434] Prescott, A. L. "Crime and Carnival at Chelsea: Widow Edith and Thomas More's Household." Miscellanea Moreana. 247-64. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 159, 254.] [1435] "Two Little-Known Pictures by Holbein in England." See Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics. [1436] Warnicke, R. "The Harpy in More's Household: Was it Lady Alice?" Moreana 87/88 (1985): 5-13 ^ [1437] ^. "The Making of a Shrew: The Legendary History of Alice More." Rendezvous 15 (1980): 25-37. ^ [1438] ^. "The Restive Wife in Erasmus' Colloquy: Mistress More or Lady Mountjoy?" Moreana 79/80 (1983): 5-14. Mary Bassett [1439] Bassett, Mary, trans. The Ecclesiastical History of Eusebius. B.L. Harleian MS. 1860. [Unpublished manuscript of English translation of the first five books of Eusebius.] ^ [1440] ^ . St. Thomas More's History of the Passion. See De Tristitia. ^ [1441] ^. "Mary Basset's Translation of the De tristitia." See De Tristitia. Thomas More Bibliography / 388 More's Ancestry [1442] Cole, A. C. "Sir Thomas More's quartering ... and a new 'old grant'". See More's Name, Coat of Arms, etc. [1443] Hastings, M. "Sir Thomas More's Ancestry." TLS 12 Sep. 1952: 604. ^ [1444] ^. "The Ancestry of Sir Thomas More." The Guildhall Miscellany 2:1 (1961). Rpt. in Essential Articles. 92-103, 599-601. [1445] McConica, J. "The Patrimony of Thomas More." See Law and Politics. [1446] Ramsey, G. D. "A Saint in the City: Thomas More at Mercer's Hall, London." See Law and Politics. London, Bucklersberry, Chelsea and More's Manors [1447] Allen, P. S. "More and Netherhall." TLS 26 Dec. 1918: 654 + 3 Jan. 1919: 10. [On More's first marriage to Jane Colt and on Netherhall, the house of his father-in-law, John Colt, in Essex.] [1448] Blunt, R. "The Glory of Chelsea." The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. 93-103. [On More as a gentleman-farmer, relates a passage in Utopia to Chelsea.] [1449] Cowie, L. W. "More's House in Chelsea." History Today 26:2 (1976): 118-24. [1450] Davies, R. The Greatest House at Chelsey. London: John Lane, 1913. [Rev.: TLS 5 Dec. 1913: 584.] [1451] Goulder, L., and D. Frasnay. "Thomas More's London." Catholic Lawyer 13 (1967): 8-20. Rpt. from The Critic [Thomas More Association, Chicago] Vol. 3? Dec. 1965-Jan. 1966. [Includes photographs.] [1452] O'Sullivan, R. "The Old Church of Chelsea." Catholic Lawyer 2 (1956): 320-23, 349. [On More's parish church in Chelsea, and on the burial sites of More's head and body, and of Margaret and William Roper.] [1453] Reynolds, E. E. "Butclose." Moreana 59/60 (1978): 5-8. ^ [1454] ^. "More's Manors and Other Notes." Moreana 12 (1966): 81-86. ^ [1455] ^. "A Right Fair House." Moreana 47/48 (1975): 5-10. [1456] [Reynolds, E. E., and D. O'Sullivan.] Thomas More's London. Ed. G. Marc'hadour. Angers: Editions Moreana, 1972. [A brief thirty-two page guide to geographical sites in London likely to be of interest to More scholars.] [1457] "St. Thomas More's Tree." Catholic Lawyer 2 (1956): 15-21. [On a surviving Mulberry tree from More's garden and on the convent that occupies part of the original site of More's great house at Chelsea.] More's Family, Friends and Descendents: 16th Century [1458] Antheunis, L. "Note sur John Harris, secretaire prive du chancelier Thomas Morus (1510(?)-1579)." RHE 33 (1937): 534-50. Thomas More Bibliography / 389 [1459] Aveling, J. C. H. "The More Family and Yorkshire." Essential Articles. 26-48, 586-89. ^ [1460] ^ . "Yorkshire Notes: St. Thomas More's Family Circle and Yorkshire." Recusant History 6 (1961/62): 238-44. [On Thomas Paynell, the Creswell family, and Edward More, third son of John More and Ann Cresacre.] [1461] Carpinelli, F. "Thomas More and the Daunce Family." Quincentennial Essays. 1-10. [1462] Ford, C. D. "Good Master Bonvisi." ClergyR ns 27 (1947): 228-35. [1463] Hall, N. "Henry Patenson—Sir Thomas More's Fool." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 75-86. [1464] Hitchcock, E. V. "Note on Mr. Thomas Moare, Owner of the Emmanuel Harpsfield." in The life and death of Sr Thomas Moore, Knight, sometymes Lord high Chancellor of England. by Nicholas Harpsfield. Ed. E. V. Hitchcock. Early English Texts Society 186. London: Humphrey Milford, Oxford UP, 1932. 294-96. [1465] Hogrefe, P. "Sir Thomas More's Connection with the Roper Family." PMLA 47 (1932): 523-33. [Mainly on John Roper, John More, and Thomas More.] [1466] Merriam, T. "John Clement: His Identity, and his Marshfoot House in Essex." Moreana 97 (1988): 145-52. [1467] Murray, F. "The Contribution of the More Family to the Counter-Reformation." Venerabile 25 (1969-71): 113-23. [Summ.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 27/28 (1970): 91.] [1468] Norrington, R. The Household of Sir Thomas More. See Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics. [1469] Pollard, A. F., and A. W. Reed. "Sir Thomas More's Family." TLS 27 Mar. 1930: 274, 298. [Two letters 'To the Editor' on the marriage of two of More's daughters (Elizabeth and Cecily).] [1470] Reynolds, E. E. "A Note on John Donne." Moreana 37 (1973): 41-43. [On a lost portrait of More and on Donne's recusant background.] [1471] Schoeck, R. J. "Antony Bonvisi, the Heywoods and the Ropers." N&Q 197 (1952): 178-79. [On Antonio Bonvisi's relationship with Wiliam Rastell, William Roper, and Richard Heywood (John Heywood's brother.)] ^ [1472] ^. "Two Notes on Margaret Gigs Clement, Foster-Daughter of Sir Thomas More." N&Q 194 (1949): 532-33. ^ [1473] ^. "William Rastell and the Protonotaries: A Link in the Story of the Rastells, Ropers and Heywoods." N&Q 197 (1952): 398-99. [1474] Sisson, C. "Sir Thomas More and North Mimms." RES 5 (1929): 54-55. [1475] Tucker, M. J. "The More-Norfolk Connection." See Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons. [1476] Wenkebach, E. John Clement: ein Englischer Humanist and Arzt des sechzehnten Jahrhunderts. Leipzig: 1925. [1477] Whitlock, B. D. "The Family of John Donne, 1588-91." N&Q ns 7 (1960): 380-86. [Summ.: J. S. Phillipson, AES 3 (1960): 2682.] Thomas More Bibliography / 390 [1478] ^. "The Heredity and Childhood of John Donne." N&Q ns 6 (1959): 257-62, 348-53. [Summ.: J. S. Phillipson, AES 2 (1959): 1878 + 3 (1960): 386. On Donne's relationships with the More, Rastell and Heywood families.] [1479] Zapatka, F. E. "Thomas More and Thomas Darcy." Moreana 71/72 (1981): 15-27. More's Family and Descendents: 17th and 18th Centuries [1480] Brooks, F. St. J. "The Trinders of Holwell, Oxon.: A Link with Peter Heylyn and Sir Thomas More." N&Q 152 (1927): 128-31, 191. [1481] Garavaglia, G. P. "Cresacre and Thomas More During the English Revolution, 1640-1660." Moreana 42 (1974): 39-42. [On the sequestration (and eventual discharge) of the property of Cresacre More, and his son Thomas More.] [1482] Loomie, A. "A Grandniece of Thomas More: Catharine Bentley, ca 1565-ca 1625." Moreana 29 (1971): 13-15. [On grants of money by the Spanish Court to Catherine Bentley, her husband and son.] [1483] McCann, T. J. "Catharine Bentley, Great Grand-daughter of St. Thomas More, and Her Catholic Connections in Sussex." Moreana 43/44 (1974): 41-45. [Identifies Catherine Bentley as daughter of Thomas Roper, son of William and Margaret Roper, and niece of Viscount Montague.] [1484] Shanahan, D. "The Death of Thomas More, Secular Priest Great-Grandson of St. Thomas More." Recusant History 7 (1963): 23-32. B.S. POEMS, NOVELS AND PLAYS ABOUT THOMAS MORE Poems and Epigrams lohannes Secundus [1485] Blanchard, A. Jean Second et ses poemes sur rexecution de Thomas More. Angers: Editions Moreana, 1972. Also publ. in Moreana 36 (1972): 1-32. [1486] Newald, R. "[LaBt uns des Morus entsetzlich Shicksal and Tod nun beweinen.]" Erasmus Roterodamus. Freiburg: 1947. [A German translation of Secundus' Naenia attributed to Erasmus. See Moreana 29 (1971): 80.] [1487] Starnes, D. T. "A Heroic Poem on the Death of Sir Thomas More-By D. Erasmus of Rotterdam." UTSE 9 (1929): 69-81. [Wrong attribution: actually by Iohannes Secundus.] Jacobus Balde [1488] Balde, J. "Thomae Mori Constantia." Trans. J. Mertz. Catholic Lawyer 6 (1960): 258-59. Rpt. in "Thomae Mori Constantia (1660): In Memory of James Mertz, S. J." Moreana 90 (1986): 89-92. [A seventeenth-century epigram about More's death: Latin text and English translation. Moreana reprint also includes an introduction and a German translation.] [1489] Marc'hadour, G. "Poems about Thomas More." See Poems and Epigrams from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Centuries. [1490] Morvannou, F. "Thomae Mori Constantia de Jacobus Balde, S. J. (1660)." Moreana 94 (1987): 75-78. [French and Breton translations of Balde's epigram about More.] Thomas More Bibliography / 391 [1491] Pepin, R. E. "`Thomae Mori Constantia': A Rare Edition." Moreana 98/99 (1988): 61-64. [Includes Latin text and an English translation.] Poems and Epigrams from the Sixteenth to the Nineteenth Centuries [1492] Boardman, B. M. "'Dear Jester in the Courts of God': Francis Thompson's Tribute to St. Thomas More." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 87-92. [On Francis Thompson's "Ode to the English Martyrs" (1905), published in the Dublin Review.] [1493] Blanchard A. "Poemes du XVI e Siecle a la memoire de Thomas More et Jean Fisher." Moreana 41 (1974): 93-99. [Latin epigrams (with French translations) by Nicholas Grudius, Jean Latomus, Jean Vital, Jacques Exerichus and others.] [1494] Marc'hadour, G. "Poems about Thomas More." Moreana 12 (1966): 87-89. [On some epigrams by Iohannes Secundus (1536) and a sonnet by Faustina degli Azzi (1697).] [1495] Smith, C. "A Seventeenth-Century 'Vision' by Thomas More." Moreana 37 (1973): 5-14 + 41 (1974): 10 [1496] Sylvester, R. S. "John Constable's Poems to Thomas More." PQ 42 (1963): 525-31. [1497] ^. "The 'Man For All Seasons' Again: Robert Whittington's Verses to Sir Thomas More." HLQ 26 (1962): 147-54. [1498] Wordsworth, William. "Apology." Moreana 4 (1964): 47. [On the martyrdom of "saintly Fisher, and unbending More." Ecclesiastical Sonnets #26 (1822).] Twentieth Century Poems [1499] "A Wrong Ascription." Moreana 4 (1964): 44-45. [English text and French translation of a modern apocrypha: "Give me a good digestion, Lord."] [1500] Duggan, D. M. "Sir Thomas More: Three Poems." SCJ 8:2 (1977): 5-7. [1501] Levi, P. "Sermon on St. Thomas More." Moreana 19/20 (1968): 148. [1502] Little, G. C. "Madrigal for Margaret Retrieving the Head of Sir Thomas More." Poetry Series 10. Quarterly Review of Literature 30 (1991): sec. C, p.56. [1503] Locher, D. "For Sir Thomas More, Saint." Moreana 4 (1964): 46. [1504] MacDonald, K. C. "The Chancellor's Jest." G.K.'s Weekly (edited by G. K. Chesterton) 21 Mar. 1935: 23-24. Rpt. in G.K.'s Weekly: A Sampler. Ed. with an intro. L. W. Dorsett. Chicago: Loyola UP, 1986. 469-70. [1505] Mascall, E. L. "`To Chelsea's Strand I Fly': To a Dignitary who Spoke Contemptuously of a Saint." Moreana 21 (1969): 18. [1506] Pigato, J. B. "Echos de Louvain." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 295-96. [A Latin epigram.] [1507] Sargent, D. "Morus." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 314. [1508] Schoene. M. P. "Sir Thomas More, Martyr." Moreana 3 (1964): 37-38. Thomas More Bibliography / 392 Novels About Thomas More and His Family [1509] Beahn, J. E. A Man Born Again: Saint Thomas More. Milwaukee: Bruce Publishing Co., 1954. [Rev.: C. J. Zinn, Catholic Lawyer 1 (1955): 57. An apocryphal autobiography, purports to be the memoirs of Sir Thomas More written in the Tower, narrated in the first person.] [1510] Brady, C. Stage of Fools. 1954. [1511] Croan, Princesse de, Thomas Morus: Lord Chancelier du Royaume d'Angleterre au XVI e siecle. 2 vols. Paris: Librairie de C. Gosselin, 1833. Trans. by M. C. Monroe as Sir Thomas More: An Historical Romance. New York: Christian Press Association Publishing Co., 1890. [1512] Manning, A. The Household of Sir Thomas More. London: Hall, Virtue and Co., 1851. Rpt. New York: Dutton, 1906. [A popular Victorian novel about More's family. Purports to be the diary of Margaret Roper.] [1513] White, 0. B. The King's Good Servant. New York: MacMillan, 1936. Thomas More and Drama More and Early Tudor Drama [1514] Hogrefe, P. The Sir Thomas More Circle: A Program of Ideas and Their Impact on Secular Drama. Urbana: U of Illinois P, 1959. [Rev.: L. Bradner, MLN 75 (1960): 707-08; R. J. Schoeck, RenN 13 (1960): 175-77; J. B. Trapp, N&Q ns 8 (1961): 36-37.] [1515] Norland, H. B. "The Role of Drama in More's Literary Career." SCJ 13:4 (1982): 59-75. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 114.] [1516] Reed, A. W. Early Tudor Drama: Medwall, the Rastells, Heywood, and the More Circle. London: Methuen, 1926. [Rev.: T. S. Eliot, ("More and Tudor Drama,") TLS 2 Dec. 1926: 880 + 9 Dec. 1926: 913 (rpt. in Moreana 17 (1968): 20).] Shakespeare and the Book of Sir Thomas Moore Editions [1517] Brooke, C. F. T., ed. "Sir Thomas More: An Anonymous Play of the Sixteenth Century Ascribed in Part to Shakespeare." The Shakespeare Apocrypha. Oxford: Clarendon, 1908. 383-420, 436-37. [1518] Dyce, A., ed. Sir Thomas More: A Play. London: Shakespeare Society, 1844. [First edition of play from manuscript. Superceded by Greg's edition.] [1519] Gabrieli, V., and G. Melchiori, eds. Sir Thomas More. A Play by Anthony Munday and Others. Revised by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood and William Shakespeare. The Revels Plays. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1990. [Rev.: J. H. Jones, TLS 26 Oct. 1990: 1161; M. W. A. Smith, N&S ns 38 (1991): 378-79.] [1520] Greg, W. W., ed. The Book of Sir Thomas More. Oxford: Oxford UP for the Malone Society, 1911. [1521] Shirley, J., ed. Sir Thomas More: An Anonymous Play of the Sixteenth Century Ascribed in Part to Shakespeare. Canterbury: H. J. Goulden, n.d. [1938?]. [Rev.: TLS 28 Jan. 1939: 62. Modernized version made with the help of W. W. Greg.] Thomas More Bibliography / 393 Studies [1522] Acheson, A. Shakespeare, Chapman and Sir Thomas More. London: Quaritch, 1931. [Rev.: TLS 2 July 1931: 525, 564.] [1523] Anderegg, M. A. "The Book of Sir Thomas More and its Sources." Moreana 53 (1977): 57-62. [1524] Bald, R. C. "Addition III of Sir Thomas More." RES 7 (1931): 67-69. ^ [1525] ^. "The Booke of Sir Thomas More and its Problems." Shakespeare Survey 2 (1949): 44-65. ^ [1526] ^. "The Foul Papers of a Revision." The Library 4th ser. 26 (1945/46): 37-50. [Suggests what might have happened to The Booke of Sir Thomas More, if it had gone to the printers, by examining two quartos of plays that reveal extensive revisions.] [1527] Beebe, R. "Tashis' in The Booke of Sir Thomas More." N&Q ns 18 (1971): 452-53. [1528] Blayney, P. W. M. "The Booke of Sir Thomas Moore Re-examined." SP 69 (1972): 167-91. [1529] Brooks, H. F. "Shakespeare and The Gouernour, Bk. II, ch. xiii. Parallels with Richard II and the More Addition." SQ 14 (1963): 195-99. [On the roan Barbary episode in Richard II and parallels in Thomas Elyot and The Booke of Sir Thomas More.] [1530] Chambers, R. W. "The Expression of Ideas—Particularly Political Ideas—in the Three pages and in Shakespeare." Shakespeare's Hand in The Play of Sir Thomas More. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1923. 142-87. ^ [1531] ^. "Some Sequences of Thought in Shakespeare and in the 147 lines of Sir Thomas More." MLR 26 (1931): 251-80. Rev. vers. rpt. as "Shakespeare and the Play of More: Some Sequences of Thought in Shakespeare and in the 'Three Pages' of Sir Thomas More." Man's Unconquerable Mind. London: Jonathan Cape, 1939. Rpt. 1952. 204-49, 407-08. [1532] Chillington, C. "Playwrights at Work: Henslowe's, Not Shakespeare's, Book of Sir Thomas More." ELR 10 (1980): 439-79. [1533] Clayton, T. The 'Shakespearean' Addition in The Booke of Sir Thomas Moore: Some Aids to Scholarly and Critical Shakespearean Studies. Shakespeare Studies, Monograph Series 1. Dubuque, IA: W. C. Brown, 1969. [1534] Collins, D. C. "On the Date of Sir Thomas More." RES 10 (1934): 401-11. [1535] Dawson, G. E. "Shakespeare's Handwriting." ShS 42 (1990): 119-28 + 3 plates. [1536] Doyle, C. C. "The Hair and Beard of Thomas More." Moreana 71/72 (1981): 5-14. [1537] Eagles, R. L. "The Date and Authorship of the MS. Play Sir Thomas More." N&Q 177 (1939): 78, 120-21. [1538] Feldman, A. B. "The Flemings in Shakespeare's Theatre." N&Q 197 (1952): 265-69. [1539] Forker, C. R. "Webster or Shakespeare? Style, Idiom, Vocabulary, and Spelling in the Additions to Sir Thomas More." Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Ed. T. H. Howard-Hill. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 151-70. Thomas More Bibliography / 394 [1540] Forker, C. R., and J. Candido. "Wit, Wisdom, and Theatricality in The Book of Sir Thomas More." Shakespeare Studies 13 (1980): 85-104. [1541] Fox, A. "The Paradoxical Design of The Book of Sir Thomas More." Ren&Ref ns 5 (1981): 162-73. [1542] Gabrieli, V. "Sir Thomas More: Sources, Characters, Ideas." Moreana 90 (1986): 17-43. [1543] Gabrieli, V., and G. Melchiori. "Introduction." Sir Thomas More. A Play by Anthony Munday and Others. Revised by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood and William Shakespeare. Ed. V. Gabrieli and G. Melchiori. The Revels Plays. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1990. 1-53. ^ [1544] ^. "Appendix: A Table of Sources and Close Analogues for the Text of The Book of Sir Thomas More." Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Ed. T. H. Howard-Hill. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 197-202. [1545] Greg, W. W. "Autograph Plays by Anthony Munday." MLR 8 (1913): 89-90. [Contra his earlier position in his edition, Greg accepts original MS. of Sir Thomas More as Munday's autograph.] ^ [1546] ^. "The Handwritings of the Manuscript." Shakespeare's Hand in The Play of Sir Thomas More. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1923. 41-56. [1547] Greg, W. W., ed. "Ill May Day. Scenes from the Play of Sir Thomas More." Shakespeare's Hand in The Play of Sir Thomas More. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1923. 189-227. ^ [1548] ^. "Special Transcript of the Three Pages." Shakespeare's Hand in The Play of Sir Thomas More. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1923. 228ff. [Pages of transcript not numbered. For another transcript, see also R. C. Bald, "The 'Shakespearean' Additions in The Booke of Sir Thomas More, Addition II,c." Shakespeare Survey 2 (1949): 62-65.] [1549] Harrison, G. B. "The Date of Sir Thomas More." RES 1 (1925): 337-39. [1550] Hays, M. L. "Shakespeare's Hand in Sir Thomas More: Some Aspects of the Paleographic Argument." Shakespeare Studies 8 (1975): 241-53. ^ [1551] ^. "Watermarks in the Manuscript of Sir Thomas More and a Possible Collation." SQ 26 (1975): 66-69. [1552] Hibbard, G. R. "Erasmus and More in the Age of Shakespeare." ErasmusE 12 (1983): 2-10. [1553] Honigmann, E. A. J. "The Play of Sir Thomas More and Some Contemporary Events." Shakespeare Survey 42 (1990): 77-84. [1554] Howard-Hill, T. H., ed. Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. [Rev.: R. A. Foakes, RES ns 42 (1991): 577-78; D. W. Foster, RenQ 44 (1991): 369-72; E. A. J. Honigmann, YES 21 (1991): 359-60; E. Sams, N&Q ns 37 (1990): 464-65. A 'sequel' to Shakespeare's Hand, and a review of scholarship on the play and on 'Hand D' in the sixty years since the publication of Shakespeare's Hand. Articles also listed separately.] [1555] Jackson, MacD. P. "A Non-Shakespearean Parallel to the Comic Mispronunciation of 'Ergo' in Hand D in Sir Thomas More." N&Q ns 18 (1971): 139. ^ [1556] ^. "Anthony Munday and the Play of Thomas More." Moreana 85 (1984): 83-84. Thomas More Bibliography / 395 ^[1557] ^. "Hand D of Sir Thomas More." N&Q ns 28 (1981): 146. ^ [1558] ^. "Linguistic Evidence for the Date of Shakespeare's Addition to Sir Thomas More." N&Q ns 25 (1978): 154-56. [1559] Jenkins, H. "Readings in the Manuscript of Sir Thomas More." MLR 43 (1948): 512-14. [Two emendations to Greg's edition.] [1560] Jones, J. H. "Sir Thomas More (Shaw Theatre, London, England)." TLS 14 Sep. 1990: 975. [A "theatre review."] [1561] Jowett, J. "Henry Chettle and the Original Text of Sir Thomas More." Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Ed. T. H. Howard-Hill. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 131-49. [1562] Lake, D. J. "The Date of the Sir Thomas More Additions by Dekker and Shakespeare." N&Q ns 24 (1977): 114-16. [1563] Law, R. A. "Is Heywood's Hand in Sir Thomas More?" UTSE 11 (1931): 24-31. [Questions Tannenbaum's identification of 'Hand B' as Heywood's.] [1564] Long, W. B. "The Occasion of The Book of Sir Thomas More." Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Ed. T. H. Howard-Hill. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 45-56. [1565] Macnalty, A. S. "Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More." See More and Shakespeare. [1566] McMillan, S. "The Book of Sir Thomas More: Dates and Acting Companies." Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Ed. T. H. Howard-Hill. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 57-76. ^ [1567] ^. The Elizabethan Theatre and The Book of Sir Thomas More. Ithaca, NY: Cornell UP, 1987. [Rev.: F. B. Williams, Moreana 95/96 (1987): 81-82.] [1568] Matchett, W. M. "Shylock, Iago, and Sir Thomas More: With Some Further Discussion of Shakespeare's Imagination." PMLA 92 (1977): 217-30. [On image clusters in 'Hand D' of Sir Thomas More and several Shakespeare Plays.] [1569] Melchiori, G. "Hand D in Sir Thomas More: An Essay in Misinterpretation." Shakespeare Survey 38 (1985): 101-14. ^ [1570] ^. "The Booke of Sir Thomas Moore: A Chronology of Revision." SQ 37 (1986): 291-308. ^ [1571] ^. "The Book of Sir Thomas More: Dramatic Unity." Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Ed. T. H. Howard-Hill. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 77-100. [See also "Introduction" to edition of Sir Thomas More, edited by V. Gabrieli and G. Melchiori.] [1572] Merriam, T. "Chettle, Munday, Shakespeare, and Sir Thomas More?" N&S ns 39 (1992): 336-41. [Summ.: Infotrac.] ^ [1573] ^. "Did Munday Compose Sir Thomas More?" N&S ns 37 (1990): 175-78. ^ [1574] ^. "The Authorship of Sir Thomas More." Association for Literary and Linguistic Computing Bulletin 10 (1982): 1-8. Thomas More Bibliography / 396 [1575] Metz, G. H. Four Plays Ascribed to Shakespeare: The Reign of King Edward III, Sir Thomas More, The History of Cardenio, The Two Noble Kinsmen—An Annotated Bibliography. New York: Garland, 1982. 69-117. [Detailed annotations on bibliography up to 1981.] ^ [1576] ^. "The Master of the Revels and The Booke of Sir Thomas Moore." SQ 33 (1982): 493-95. ^ [1577] ^. "The Play of Sir Thomas More: The Problem of the Primary Source." Moreana 82 (1984): 41-48. ^ [1578] ^. "Sir Thomas More: Introduction." Sources of Four Plays Ascribed to Shakespeare: The Reign of King Edward III, Sir Thomas More, The History of Cardenio, The Two Noble Kinsmen. Columbia, MO: U of Missouri P, 1989. 135-206. [Rev.: D. W. Foster, SQ 42 (1991): 237-40. Excerpts from texts on pp. 207-254. Some items also listed separately.] ^ [1579] ^. "Thomas More, Thomas Cromwell, and Jack Faulkner." N&Q ns 32 (1985): 28-30. ^ [1580] ^. "'Voice and credyt': The Scholars and Sir Thomas More." Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Ed. T. H. Howard-Hill. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 11-44. [See also Metz's "Sir Thomas More: Introduction," in Sources of Four Plays Ascribed to Shakespeare.] [1581] Miller, C. H. "Thomas More, A Man For All Seasons: Robert Bolt's Play and the Elizabethan Play of Sir Thomas More." See Robert Bolt's A Man For All Seasons. [1582] Nosworthy, J. M. "Hand B in Sir Thomas More." The Library 5th ser. 11 (1958): 47-50. ^ [1583] ^. "Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More." RES ns 6 (1955): 12-25. [1584] Pafford, J. H. P. "The Play of Sir Thomas More." N&Q ns 28 (1981): 145. [Note on the use of "dung."] [1585] Pollard, A. W. "Introduction." Shakespeare's Hand in The Play of Sir Thomas More. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1923. 1-40. [With an appendix of the accounts of the anti-alien disturbances of 1595, 1586 and 1593.] ^ [1586] ^. "Verse Tests and the Date of Sir Thomas More." RES 1 (1925): 441-43. [1587] Ramsey, P. "Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More Revisited: or, A Mounty on the Trail." PBSA 70 (1976): 333-46. [1588] Rousseau, M.-C. "Sir Thomas More: du texte a la scene." Moreana 83/84 (1984): 127-42. ^ [1589] ^. "Sir Thomas More: une enigme resolue?" Moreana 71/72 (1981): 155-65. ^ [1590] ^. "Sir Thomas More: un dossier en instance." Moreana 75/76 (1982): 147-50. [1591] Schiicking, L. L. "Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More." RES 1 (1925): 40-59. [1592] Shakespeare's Hand in The Play of Sir Thomas More: Papers by Alfred W. Pollard, W. W. Greg, E. Maunde Thompson, J. Dover Wilson, & R. W. Chambers. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1923. [Articles also listed separately.] [1593] Spikes, J. D. "The Book of Sir Thomas More: Structure and Meaning." Moreana 43/44 (1974): 25-39. Thomas More Bibliography I 397 [1594] Spurgeon, C. F. E. "Imagery in the Sir Thomas More Fragment." RES 6 (1930): 257-70. [1595] Storari, G. "From Elizabeth I to Elizabeth II: Two Popular Views of Thomas More." See Robert Bolt's A Man For All Seasons. [1596] Tannenbaum, S. A. "More About The Bookie of Sir Thomas Moore." PMLA 43 (1928): 767-78. ^ [1597] ^. Problems in Shakespeare's Penmanship, Including a Study of the Poet's Will. New York: The Century Company (for the Modern Language Association of America), 1927. [Rev.: W. W. Greg, TLS 24 Nov. 1927: 871; C. Sisson, MLR 23 (1928): 231-34.] ^ [1598] ^. The Booke of Sir Thomas More (A Bibliotic Study). New York: The Tenny Press, 1927. [Rev.: W. W. Greg, TLS 24 Nov. 1927: 871; C. Sisson, MLR 23 (1928): 231-34.] [1599] Taylor, G. "The Date and Auspices of the Additions to Sir Thomas More." Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Ed. T. H. Howard-Hill. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 101-29. [1600] Thompson, E. M. "The Handwriting of the Three Pages Attributed to Shakespeare Compared with His Signatures." Shakespeare's Hand in The Play of Sir Thomas More. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1923. 57-112. [1601] Velz, J. W. "Sir Thomas More and the Shakespeare Canon: Two Approaches." Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More: Essays on the Play and its Shakespearean Interest. Ed. T. H. Howard-Hill. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1989. 171-95. [1602] Wentersdorf, K. P. "A Crux in the Putative Shakespearian Addition to Sir Thomas More." ELN 10 (1972/73): 8-10. [1603] Wilson, J. D. "Bibliographical Links Between the Three Pages and the Good Quartos." Shakespeare's Hand in The Play of Sir Thomas More. Cambridge: Cambridge UP, 1923. 113-42. [1604] Wright, G. T. "Can Sir Thomas More be by Shakespeare?" Moreana 75/76 (1982): 89-90. Robert Bolt's A Man For All Seasons: Play and Film Editions [1605] Bolt, R. A Man For All Seasons: A Play of Sir Thomas More. London: Heinemann, 1960. [Robert Bolt's famous play made into a film of the same name in 1966, starring Paul Scofield as "More".] Studies and Reviews [1606] Atkins, A. "Robert Bolt: Self, Shadow, and the Theater of Recognition." Modern Drama 10 (1967/68): 182-88. [On the relationship between More and the Common Man.] [1607] Barnett, G. A. "The Theatre of Robert Bolt." Dalhousie Review 48 (1968): 13-23. [On four published plays of Robert Bolt, including A Man for All Seasons.] [1608] Bertagnoni, M. "Un Uomo per tutte le stagioni." Moreana 17 (1968): 73-79. [English summary (78-79).] Thomas More Bibliography / 398 [1609] Bolt, R. "Preface." A Man For All Seasons: A Play of Sir Thomas More. London: Heinemann, 1960. v-xix. Rpt. as "Preface to A Man For All Seasons." Essential Articles. 473-80. Pp. v-xiv rpt. in More's Utopia and its Critics. Ed. L. Gallagher. Chicago: Scott, Foresman and Company, 1964. 92-97. [An important preface. Bolt explains his reasons for writing his play. On More as "a hero of selfhood."] [1610] Driver, T. F. "A Play of Conscience." Christian. Century Vol. 79, 17 Jan. 1962: 87-89. [Summ.: C. D. Tate, Jr., AES 5 (1962): 2237. A review article.] [1611] Hauerwas, S., and T. L. Shaffer. "Hope Faces Power: Thomas More and the King of England." Soundings 61 (1978): 456-79. [By a theologian and a lawyer: on the seductions of power in Robert Bolt's A Man for All Seasons. Contains some very acute remarks on More and the Law.] [1612] McElrath, J. R. "The Metaphoric Structure of A Man of All Seasons." Modern Drama 14 (1971/72): 84-92. [On a cluster of images water — mud — river — anchor —boat in Robert Bolt's play.] [1613] Marc'hadour, G. "A Man For All Seasons." Drama Critique 4 (1961): 18-26. [Summ.: H. G. Zettler, AES 4 (1961): 1082.] ^ [1614] ^. "An Eloquent Man for All Seasons Evokes the Glory of Thomas More." Moreana 13 (1967): 112-14. [Excerpts from some American reviews.] ^ [1615] ^. "Best Picture of the Year." Moreana 14 (1967): 120-21. [A list of reviews of the film.] ^ [1616] ^. "Un `homme'^toujours: Saint Thomas More—Reactions au film de Zinneman." Moreana 17 (1968): 81-84. [Some French reactions to the Zinneman's film.] [1617] Miller, C. H. "Thomas More, A Man For All Seasons: Robert Bolt's Play and the Elizabethan Play of Sir Thomas More." Moreana 104 (1990): 101-10. [Robert Bolt's play and the Book of Sir Thomas More both reduce More to being a man of one season. Miller draws on the De tristitia to illustrate More's attitude towards martyrdom. He concludes that the best way to understand More is to read his works.] [1618] Reynolds, E. E. "The Significance of A Man For All Seasons." Moreana 23 (1969): 34-39. [1619] Smith, C. "A Drama for All Times? A Man for All Seasons Revived and Restored." Moreana 98/99 (1988): 51-58. [On the 1987-88 revivals of Bolt's play at Chichester and at London (where Charlton Heston played More).] [1620] Smith, L. MacMillan Master Guides: A Man For All Seasons By Robert Bolt. London: MacMillan, 1985. [Scene-by-scene summary, commentary and backgrounds to Robert Bolt's play.] [1621] Storari, G. "From Elizabeth I to Elizabeth II: Two Popular Views of Thomas More." Moreana 30 (1971): 25-28. [The Book of Sir Thomas More is essentially based on Hall's Chronicle and Roper's Life, while A Man For All Seasons is based on Chambers' biography.] [1622] Tucker, M. J. "The More-Norfolk Connection." Moreana 33 (1972): 5-13. [Criticises Bolt's portrayal of Norfolk as historically inaccurate.] [1623] "Un Uomo per tutte le stagioni di F. Zinneman." Moreana 17 (1968): 81-83. [A list of Italian reviews of Zinneman's film.] Thomas More Bibliography / 399 Other Plays [1624] Anouilh, Jean. Thomas More ou l'homme libre. Paris: La Table Ronde, 1987. [Anouilh's last play, published two months before his death.] [1625] Brewer, P. "Le Thomas More de Henriette Roland Hoist." Moreana 97 (1988): 9-21. [On a Dutch play written in 1912 on Thomas More by a Dutch Woman socialist.] [1626] Corrigan, B. "Sir Thomas More: Personage and Symbol on the Italian Stage." Studies in the Continental Background of Renaissance English Literature: Essays Presented to John L. Lievsay. Ed. D. B. J. Randall and G. W. Williams. Durham, NC: Duke UP, 1977. 91-108. [On four Italian plays on More from the seventeenth to nineteenth centuries.] [1627] Babler, 0. F. "Sir Thomas More: Plays." N&Q 194 (1949): 305, 415. [Note on a Neo-Latin play about More surviving at Olomouc.] [1628] Foley, B. "Thomas Morus, Tragoedia." The Venerabile 7 (1934-36): 94-106. [Summ.: F. Murray, Moreana 19/20 (1968): 100. A Neo-Latin Play (c.1610) about More.] [1629] Fox, A. D. Sir Thomas More: An Historical Play in Five Acts. London: Constable, 1905. [1630] Haushofer, A. Thomas Morus: unvollendetes tragisches Schauspiel. Paderhorn: F. Schoningh, 1985. [1631] Marc'hadour, G. "Thomas More." Moreana 19/20 (1968): 21-23. [Report on a play by Jean Claudius on Thomas More performed in the Tower of London.] [1632] Unterweg, F.-K. "Thomas More in Dutch Drama." Moreana 97 (1988): 23-40. [On several Dutch and Neo-Latin plays about More from the seventeenth to the twentieth centuries.] [1633] ^. "Thomas Morus, Tragoedia." Acta conventus neo-latini guelpherbytani. 365-74. [On Counter-Reformation Jesuit plays about More.] [1634] Vernulaeus, Nicolaus. Henricus Octavus: A Neo-Latin Drama. Ed. and trans. L. A. Shuster. Austin, TX: U of Texas P, 1962. [Rev.: H. van Crombruggen, English Studies 47 (1966): 221-24. A Counter-Reformation Latin play on the martyrdoms of More and Fisher.] B.6. MODERN BIOGRAPHIES, ESSAYS AND ADDRESSES Modern Biographies [1635] Basset, B. Born For Friendship: The Spirit of Sir Thomas More New York: Sheed & Ward, 1964. London: Burns & Oates, 1965. [Rev.: C. W. Crawford, Moreana 6 (1965): 77-81.] [1636] Bremond, H. Le Bienheureux Thomas More. Paris: Lecoffre, 1904. Trans. By H. Child as Life of Blessed Thomas More. New York: Benziger; London: Duckworth, 1904. [1637] Bridgett, T. E. The Life and Writings of Sir Thomas More. London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1891. [1638] Campbell, W. E. Erasmus, More and Tyndale. London: Eyre & Spottiswocde, 1949. 79-96, 124-88, 208-26, 237-66. [Some chapters also listed separately.] [1639] Cecil, A. A Portrait of Thomas More. London: Eyre & Spottiswoode; New York: Putnam, 1937 [Rev.: TLS 20 Feb. 1937: 127 + 171.] Thomas More Bibliography / 400 [1640] Chambers, R. W. Thomas More. London: Jonathan Cape, 1935. Rpt. Ann Arbor, MI: U of Michigan P. 1958. Rpt. London: Penguin Books in Association with Jonathan Cape (A Peregrine Book), 1963. [Rev.: M. Belgion, Criterion 15 (1935/36): 156-64; P. E. Hallett, RES 11 (1936): 472-74; J. D. Mackie, History 21 (1936): 61-63; A. L. Rowse, Spectator 154 (1935): 924.] [1641] Clayton, J. Sir Thomas More: A Short Study. London: Burns Oates & Washbourne, 1933. [Rev.: G. MacDonald, DublinR 196 (1935): 33-35.] [1642] Coulton, G. G. "The Faith of St. Thomas More." The Quarterly Review 265 (1935): 327-43. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 502-12,666-67. [1643] Farrow, J. The Story of Thomas More. London: Sheed & Ward, 1954. [1644] Fox, A. Thomas More: History and Providence. See General Studies of More's Works. [1645] Hollis, C. Sir Thomas More. London: Sheed & Ward, 1934. Rpt. London: Burns & Oates, 1961. [Rev.: TLS 3 Jan. 1935: 6; A. L. Rowse, Spectator 154 (1935): 129-30.] [1646] Hourdin, G. Intellectuel sans vanit& St. Thomas More. 1958. [1647] Hutton, W. H. Sir Thomas More. London: Methuen, 1895. Rpt. 1900. [1648] Jones, J. P. Thomas More. See General Studies of More's Works. [1649] Kenny, A. Thomas More. See General Studies of More's Works. [1650] Marc'hadour, G. "Additions et corrections a l'univers de Thomas More." Moreana (1963-65) 1: 70-81 + 2: 71-82 + 3: 39-60 + 4: 57-68 + 5: 41-52. ^ [1651] ^. Thomas More, ou la sage folie. Collection Philosophes de tous les temps 76. Paris: Editions Seghers, 1971. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 33 (1972): 39-46; J. K. McConica, Ren&Ref os 9 (1972): 37.] ^ [1652] ^. L'Univers de Thomas More: Chronologie critique de More, Erasme et leur époque, 1477-1536. Paris: J. Vrin, 1963. [Rev.: P. Mesnard, Moreana 1 (1963): 27-30; R. S. Sylvester, RenN 16 (1963): 319-23.] [1653] Marius, R. Thomas More: A Biography. New York: Alfred A. Knopf, 1984. Rpt. Vintage Books, 1985. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 112. Rev.: D. L. Gregory, Catholic Lawyer 29 (1985): 344-55; A. F. Kinney, RenQ 40 (1987): 118-21; N. H. Minnich, ("Second Thoughts on Thomas More's Biography"), America 16 Nov. 1985: 330-31 (rpt. in Catholic Lawyer, 30 (1985): 94-98); J. Patrick, Modern Age 32 (1988): 144-47.] [1654] Martz, L. L. Thomas More: The Search for the Inner Man. See General Studies of More's Works. [1655] Maynard, T. Humanist as Hero, the Life of Sir Thomas More. New York: Macmillan, 1947. [1656] McConica, J. Thomas More: A Short Biography. London: National Portrait Gallery, 1977. [A balanced account.] [1657] Merlaud, A. Thomas More. Paris: Editions S.O.S., 1973. [Rev.: Moreana 39 (1973): 73-80.] [1658] O'Connell, J. R. Saint Thomas More. London: Duckworth, 1935. [Rev.: TLS 23 Nov. 1935: 771.] Thomas More Bibliography / 401 [1659] Paredi, D. Vita di Tommaso Moro. Milan: Edizioni 0. R., 1987. [Rev.: (Ital.) D. Zanibelli, Moreana 101/102 (1990): 207-08.] [1660] Petrilli, G. San Tommaso Moro. Milan: Aldo Martello Editore, 1972. [Rev.: Moreana 39 (1973): 65-72.] [1661] Potter, G. R. Sir Thomas More. Roadmaker Series. London: Leonard Parsons; Boston, MA: Small, Maynard, 1925. [Rev.: TLS 3 Dec. 1925: 833.] [1662] Prada, A. V. de. Sir Ton-1E1s Moro, Lord Canciller de Inglaterra. Madrid: Ediciones Rialp, 1962. 1966. 5th ed. 1989. [Rev.: (Sp.) F. L. Estrada, Moreana 101/102 (1990): 36.] [1663] Reynolds, E. E. The Field is Won: The Life and Death of Saint Thomas More London: Burns & Oates; Milwaukee: Bruce, 1968. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour and M. Slattery, Moreana 23 (1969): 40-41; G. A. Tomlinson. Moreana 21 (1969): 105-06.] ^ [1664] ^. Saint Thomas More. New York: P. J. Kenedy, 1954. Rpt. Garden City, NY: Image Books (Doubleday), 1958. ^ [1665] ^. Thomas More and Erasmus. London: Burns & Oates, 1965. 16-23, 34-43, 112-26, 179-53. [Rev.: N.-M. Egretier, Moreana 9 (1966): 47-51 + 10 (1966): 80.] [1666] Ridley, J. G. The Statesman and the Fanatic: Thomas Wolsey and Thomas More. London: Constable, 1982. Also publ. as Statesman and Saint: Cardinal Wolsey, Sir Thomas More, and the Politics of Henry VIII. New York: Viking P, 1983. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 113. Rev.: J. D. M. Derrett, ("Thomas More as a Martyr,") DownsideR 101 (1983): 187-93; G. R. Elton, Moreana 77 (1983): 92. Not so much a biography as an exercise in "Foxean" vituperation by a descendent or namesake of one of the 'Marian Martyrs'. Character assassination at its worst.] [1667] Routh, E. M. G. Sir Thomas More and His Friends, 1477-1535. London: Oxford UP, 1934. [Rev.: TLS 5 Apr. 1934: 240; A. L. Rowse, Criterion 14 (1934/35): 137-40.] [1668] Rupp, G. Thomas More: The King's Good Servant. London: Collins, 1978. [1669] Sargent, D. Thomas More. London: Sheed & Ward, 1934. [Rev.: TLS 5 July 1934: 477.] [1670] Seebohm, F. Sir Thomas More. London: 1896. [1671] Smith, R. L. John Fisher and Thomas More: Two English Saints. See More and Fisher. [1672] Wilson, Derek. England in the Age of Thomas More. London: Granada Publishing, 1978. [Not a biography, but rather a study of early Tudor England and More's relationship to his culture. See especially pp. 1-15, "Prologue: The Man and his Age." and pp. 234-38, "Epilogue: The Man Against the Age."] [1673] Woodgate, M. V. Thomas More. Slough, Berks.: St. Paul Publications, 1969. See also General Studies of More's Works Brief Biographies (Including Saints Lives) [1674] Belloc, H. "Saint Thomas More." Characters of the Reformation. London: Sheed & Ward, 1936. 98-110. Rpt. New York: Image Books, 1958. 62-69. [On the uniqueness of More's death. See also "The Witness of Abstract Truth," in More's Trial, Imprisonment, Execution, and Martyrdom.] Thomas More Bibliography / 402 [1675] Bowden, H. S., ed. Mementoes of the Martyrs and Confessors of England and Wales. London: Burns & Oates, 1910; 1962. 24, 46-47, 58, 170-73, 174, 204-05, 234-35, 249-50, 289-90. [Meditations on the life of More, based mainly on Roper.] [1676] Browne, H. "A Catholic of the Renaissance." The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. 81-92. [More as a representative of the "common man", of the best in his age and culture.] [1677] Chambers, R. W. "Sir Thomas More, 1478-1535." The Great Tudors. Ed. K. Garvin. New York: E. P. Dutton & Co., 1935. 101-16. Rpt. in abr. ed. London: Eyre and Spottiswoode, 1956, 1961. 67-82. Rev. vers. rpt. as "Martyrs of the Reformation: Thomas More." in Man's Unconquerable Mind. By R. W. Chambers. London: Jonathan Cape, 1939. 172-89. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 489-500, 666. ^ [1678] ^. "Sir Thomas More's Fame Among His Countrymen." The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. 9-32. [1679] Checksfield, M. M. "Thomas More (1478-1535)." Portraits of Renaissance Life and Thought. London: Longmans, 1964. 27-45. [1680] Chesterton, G. K. "A Turning Point in History." The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. 63-64. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 501. ^ [1681] ^. "St. Thomas More." The Well and the Shallows. London: Sheed & Ward, 1935, 1937. 237-43. Rpt. in The Catholic Church and Conversion-and others. Vol. 3 of The Collected Works of G. K. Chesterton. Ed. J. J. Thompson, Jr. San Francisco: Ignatius Press, 1990. 505-09. ^ [1682] ^. "St. Thomas More [1477-1535]." Saints are not Sad: Forty Biographical Portraits. Ed. F. J. Sheed. New York: Sheed & Ward, 1949. 290-96. [1683] Delany, S. P. "Saint Thomas More [1478-1535]." Married Saints. New York: Longmans, Green & Co., 1935. 1941. Rpt. Freeport, NY: Books for Libraries P, 1969. 173-91. [1684] Donnelly, G. "St. Thomas More." Catholic Lawyer 14 (1968): 320-25, 319. [1685] Farmer, D. H., ed. "Thomas More (1478-1535)." The Oxford Dictionary of Saints. Oxford: Clarendon P, 1978. 284-86. [1686] Foss, M. "Sir Thomas More." Tudor Portraits: Success and Failure of an Age. London: George G. Harrop, 1973. 31-51. [A brief biography.] [1687] Freemantle, A. "Thomas More." Saints Alive: The Lives of Thirteen Heroic Saints. Garden City, NY: Doubleday, 1978. 90-113. [1688] Fuller, Thomas. "Sir Thomas More." The Worthies of England. (1662). Ed. J. Freeman. London: George Allen & Unwin, 1952. 356-58. [A brief encomium.] [1689] Greenblatt, S. "At the Table of the Great: More's Self-Fashioning and Self-Cancellation." Renaissance Self-Fashioning: From More to Shakespeare. Chicago: U of Chicago P, 1980. 11-73, 259-68. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 114. Crude Freudian debunking- partisan biography at its worst. Compare with his equally crude hagiographical treatment of Tyndale in the following chapter.] Thomas More Bibliography / 403 [1690] Haughton, R. The Young Thomas More. London: Parrish and Roy, 1966. [Rev.: E. Reilly, Moreana 17 (1968): 80. For adolescent readers.] [1691] Hoffmann, A. "Thomas More." Lives of the Tudor Age, 1485-1603. New York: Barnes & Noble, 1977. 331-36. [1692] Innes, A. D. "Sir Thomas More." Ten Tudor Statesmen. London: E. Nash, 1906. Rev. ed. London: Grayson & Grayson, 1934. 67-91. [A brief biography.] ^ [1693] ^. "Sir Thomas More: The Idealist (b. 1478, d. 1535)." Leading Figures in English History: Tudor and Stewart Period. London: Rivington, 1931. Rpt. Freeport, NY: Books for Libraries P, 1967. 35-56. [1694] Jenkins, C. Sir Thomas More. A Commemoration Lecture Delivered in the Chapter House, Canterbury, at the Festival of the Friends of Canterbury Cathedral, June, 1935. Canterbury: Published by The Friends of Canterbury Cathedral and printed by J. A. Jennings, 1935. [Rev.: TLS 23 Nov. 1935: 771. A brief biography, includes facsimile and translation of More's letter of confraternity with Canterbury (Herbrtiggen #182A).] [1695] Knox, R. A. "The English Martyrs: I & II," and "St. Thomas More: I & II." Occasional Sermons of Ronald Knox. Ed. P. Caraman. London: Burns & Oates, 1960. 103-25. [Four sermons on More as a Catholic Martyr, composed in Ronald Knox's charmingly inimitable style.] [1696] Lee, S. "More, Sir Thomas." Dictionary of National Biography. London: Spottiswoode & Co., 1894. Vol. 38: 429-49. Rpt. London: Geoffrey Cumberlege for Oxford UP, 1921-22. Vol. XIII: 876-96. ^ [1697] ^. "Sir Thomas More." Great Englishmen of the Sixteenth Century. New York: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1904. 17-62. [Expresses typical 19th century liberal prejudices; shows no understanding of More's Christian Humanism or of the complexities of More's character.] [1698] Lilly, W. S. "More-The Saint." Renaissance Types. London: T. Fisher Unwin, 1901. 309-78. [1699] Lloyd, T. Two Saints Named Thomas (Saint Thomas Aquinas I Saint Thomas More). Middle Green, Langley, Bucks.: Saint Paul Editions, 1966. [Rev.: C. W. Crawford, Moreana 12 (1966): 99-100. For children.] [1700] Longford, F. "St. Thomas More: God's Servant First." Saints. London: Hutchinson, 1987. 71-82. [1701] Manuel, F. E. "Reconsideration." New Republic 24 Jun. 1978: 37-41. [Repeats old canard or shibboleth about More "persecuting" heretics, but does emphasise his wit and humour.] [1702] Marc'hadour, G. "Sir (Saint) Thomas More." Encyclopedia Britannica. (15th ed. 1974). Rpt. with changes Angers: Editions Moreana, 1982. [1703] Maynard, T. "Saint Thomas More." Pillars of the Church. New York: Longmans Green and Co., 1945. Rpt. Freeport, NY: Books for Libraries P, 1970. 121-44. ^ [1704] ^. "Thomas More European." Studies [Dublin] 24 (1935): 379-90. [1705] McCormick, T. E. "The Moral Dilemma of St. Thomas More." Catholic Lawyer 23 (1977): 94-96. [More as patron saint of lawyers.] Thomas More Bibliography / 404 [1706] Meynell, L. W. "St. Thomas More." Great Catholics. Ed. C. Williamson. London: Nicholson and Watson, 1938. 151-61. [A brief biography.] [1707] Paul, J. E. Catherine of Aragon and her Friends. London: Burns & Oates, 1966. [See especially pp. 62-72, "The Humanists: Vives, More and Whytford," and pp. 191-200, "Sir Thomas More."] [1708] Plant, R. M. "Saint Thomas More (1477/78-1535)." Canadian Catholic Review 6 (1988): 104-10. [A brief biography.] [1709] Potter, G. R. "The English Renaissance: Sir Thomas More." Renaissance Men and Ideas. Ed. K. Schwoebel. New York: St. Martin's P, 1971. 39-51. [A brief biography.] [1710] Reynolds, E. E. Saint Thomas More. London: Catholic Truth Society, 1966. Rpt. 1979. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 11 (1966): 97-98. A sixteen page CTS pamphlet.] [1711] Sharkey, D., and L. Clare. "King's Chancellor: St. Thomas More." Popular Patron Saints. Milwaukee: Bruce, 1959. 136-40. [1712] Thurston, H., and D. Attwater, eds. "St. Thomas More, Martyr (A.D. 1535)." Butler's Lives of the Saints. 4 vols. London: Burns & Oates, 1956. 3: 49-55. [1713] Ward, B. "St. Thomas More." Saints for Now. Ed. C. B. Luce. New York: Sheed & Ward, 1952. 161-74. [A brief biography by a world-famous Catholic economist.] More: Essays and Addresses [1714] Reed, A. W. "Sir Thomas More." The Social and Political Ideas of Some Great Thinkers of the Renaissance and the Reformation. Ed. F. J. C. Hearnshaw. London: George G. Harrop, 1925. Rpt. London: Dawsons of Pall Mall, 1967. 123-48. [1715] Scarisbrick, J. J. "Thomas More: 'A Model For Us All.'" Moreana 87/88 (1985): 85-90. [1716] Schoeck, R. J. "The Place of Sir Thomas More: A Case for Tudor Studies." Revue de l'Universite d'Ottawa 34 (1964): 176-90. [1717] Sylvester, R. S. "Keynote Address to the Georgetown Symposium." See English Language and Prose Style. [1718] Thomson, C. E. L., ed. Thomas More Through Many Eyes. London: Leighton Thomson, 4 Old Church Street, Chelsea, 1978. [An ecumenical collection of twenty-five sermons preached in the More Chapel, Chelsea Old Church in the period from 1954 to 1978.] More Scholars, Biographers, and Editors [1719] Allyn, E. "Dr. Elizabeth Frances Rogers as Teacher." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 10-14. [1720] Marius, R. "Looking Back." Miscellanea Moreana. 555-62. [1721] ^. "Reflections on Writing the Biography of a Saint." The Portrayal of Life Stages in English Literature, 1500-1800: Infancy, Youth, Marriage, Aging. Death, Martyrdom. Essays in Honor of Warren Wooden. Ed. J. Watson, and P. McM. Pittman. Studies in British History 10. Lewiston, NY: The Edwin Mellon P, 1989. 175-202. [On More's persona in his writings, Roper's Life of More, and on the task of the modern biographer.] [1722] Reynolds, E. E. "St. Thomas More: Recent Studies." ClergyR 52 (1967): 712-15. Thomas More Bibliography / 405 ^[1723] ^. "Thomas Edward Bridgett, C.SS.R." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 15-26. [1724] Rogers, E. F. "Vita." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 5-9. [1725] Schoeck, R. J. "Moreans from Chambers to Marc'hadour: Some Recollections and Reflections." Miscellanea Moreana. 539-46. [Summ.: Moreana 98/99 (1988): 167, 262.] ^ [1726] ^. "Towards Understanding St. Thomas More: A Survey of Recent More Studies in America." Month ns 11 (1954): 42ff. Rpt. in Catholic Lawyer 2 (1956): 61-67. ^ [1727] ^. "The Yale Edition of St. Thomas More." Editing Sixteenth Century Texts: Papers Given at the Editorial Conference, October, 1965. Ed. R. J. Schoeck. Toronto: U of Toronto P, 1966. 7-10. [1728] Shenker, I. "Thomas More: 2 Million Words." New York Times Review of Books 25 June 1978: 3, 40-41. [On Moreana and on the Yale edition.] [1729] Sisson, C. J. "Raymond Wilson Chambers, 1874-1942." PBA 30 (1944): 427-39. [See also H. W. Husbands' bibliography of Chambers in More Scholars: Bibliographies. See also J. A. Burrow, "The Sinking Island and the Dying Author: R. W. Chambers Fifty Years On," Essays in Criticism 40 (1990): 1-23.] [1730] Stamm, R. "Die Morus-Biographie von R. W. Chambers and ihre Auswirkung." Theologische Zeitschrift 7 (1951): 103-14. [1731] Sylvester, R. S. "Editing Thomas More." British Studies Monitor 3:2 (1973): 4-17. Rev. vers. in Moreana 51 (1976): 26-37. [A history of the Yale Edition from 1958-1973/76.] ^ [1732] ^. "Editing Thomas More: The Past and the Future." Moreana 58 (1978): 5-12. ^ [1733]^. "Annual Newsletter: St. Thomas More Project Yale University." Moreana (1964-74) 4: 18-22, 8: 43-50, 12: 66-70, 17: 27-29, 21: 99-101, 25: 49-52, 29: 63-65, 33: 47-50, 37: 45-50, 41: 83-87, 43/44: 87-91. [Year by year reports on the progress of the "More Project" at Yale.] [1734] "The Quincentenary of the Birth of Sir Thomas More." Australian Law Journal 52 (1978): 352-53. [1735] Watkins, D. R. "The St. Thomas More Project." Yale University Library Gazette 36 (1961): 162-68. [Summ.: J. S. Bullen, AES 5 (1962): 2514.] [1736) Wright, L. B. "A Note on R. W. Chambers." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 27-28. More Scholars: Bibliographies [1737] "Bibliography of Leicester Bradner." The Drama of the Renaissance: Essays for Leicester Bradner. Ed. E. M. Blistein. Providence, RI: Brown UP, 1970. 197-99. [1738] Couchman, J. "A Selected List of the Publications and Lectures of Arthur Edward Barker." Familiar Colloquy: Essays Presented to Arthur Edward Barker. Ed. P. Brtickmann. Ottawa: Oberon P, 1978. 227-30. [1739] "Edward Surtz: BioBibliography." Moreana 31/32 (1971): 7-11. [1740] Husbands, H. W. "A Bibliography of the Works of R. W. Chambers." PBA 30 (1944): 440-45. [See also C. J. Sisson's article in More Scholars, Biographers, and Editors.] Thomas More Bibliography / 406 [1741] Perkins, J. "A List of the Publications of J. B. Trapp, with a Selection of Reviews." England and the Continental Renaissance: Essays in Honour of J. B. Trapp. Ed. E. Chaney and P. Mack. Woodbridge, Suffolk: The Boydell Press, 1990. 295-301. [1742] "Publications of Craig R. Thompson on Sixteenth-Century Subjects." Essays on the Works of Erasmus. Ed. R. L. DeMolen. New Haven: Yale UP, 1978. 267-69. [1743] Rice, L. "Bibliography of the Works of Eugene F. Rice, Jr., 1950 — 1989." Renaissance Society and Culture: Essays in Honor of Eugene F. Rice, Jr. New York: Italica P, 1991. xxi-xxiv. [1744] Rousseau, M.-C. "Les livres et les heures de Germain Marc'hadour: Bio-bibliographie." Miscellanea Moreana. 3-8. [1745] Smith, C., and J. P. Warren. "Bibliography for Richard S. Sylvester." Moreana 62 (1979): 27-30. Yearbooks, Festschriften, Article Collections, and Special Issues [1746] Boventer, H., ed. Thomas-Morus-Jahrbuch. Triltsch: Verlag Diisseldorf, 1980-. [Rev.: (1989) R. Keen, Moreana 103 (1990): 113-14; (1988) M. Veithen, Moreana 101/102 (1990): 161-68.] [1747] Fox, A., and P. Leech, eds. Thomas More: The Rhetoric of Character. Dunedin: U of Otago (A University Extension Publication), 1979. [Contributions also listed separately.] [1748] Grace, D., and B. Byron, eds. Thomas More: Essays on the Icon. Melbourne: Dove Communications, 1980. [Rev.: P. Sheldrake, HeythropJ 25 (1984): 227. Articles also listed separately.] [1749] Marc'hadour, G., ed. Moreana (A Festschrift on More's Utopia in Honor of Edward Surtz, S. J.) Issues 31/32. Angers: Editions Moreana, 1971. [Rev.: L. Miles, RenQ 26 (1973): 212-15.] [1750] Moore, M. J., ed. Quincentennial Essays on St. Thomas More. Boone, NC: Albion, 1978. Also publ. in Albion 10: Supp. (1978): 1-162. [Rev.: A. J. Slavin, Moreana 67/68 [Thomas More Gazette 2] (1980): 81-87. Articles also listed separately. Cited as Quincentennial Essays.] [1751] Murphy, C. M., H. Gibaud, and M. A. Di Cesare, eds. Miscellanea Moreana: Essays for Germain Marc'hadour. Moreana 100: Volume XXVI Mélanges Marc'hadour. Binghamton, NY: MRTS 61, 1989. [Summ.: (E./Fr.) Moreana 98/99 (1988): 153-67, 247-62. Rev.: R. L. DeMolen, CHR 76 (1990): 846-48. A special commemorative issue of Moreana, (no. 100). Cited as Miscellanea Moreana. Articles also listed separately.] [1752] Sylvester, R. S., ed. St. Thomas More: Action and Contemplation. Proceedings of the Symposium held at St. John's University, 1970. New Haven: Yale UP (for St. John's University), 1972. [Rev.: W. L. Godshalk, RenQ 26 (1973): 210-11; J. Headley and J. R. Cavanaugh ("The St. Thomas More Symposium," and "A Participant's Impressions"), Moreana 27/28 (1970): 145-49; F. Murray, Moreana 38 (1973): 72-79. Articles also listed separately.] [1753] Sylvester, R. S., and G. Marc'hadour, eds. Essential Articles. for the Study of Thomas More. Hamden, CT: Archon, 1977. [Articles also listed separately. Cited as "Essential Articles.] Thomas More Bibliography / 407 [1754] The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. [Articles also listed separately.] [1755] Thomas More: 1477-1977, Colloque international tenu en novembre 1977. Ed. A. Gerlo. Actes de l'Institut pour l'Etude de la Renaissance 6. Brussels: Editions de l'Universite de Bruxelles, 1980. [Rev.: A. Godin, Moreana 70 (1981): 87-92; L. Miles, ERSY 2 (1982): 118-23. Some articles also listed separately.] Reports on Conference Papers [1756] Murphy, C. M. "Thomas More at Villanova 1980." Moreana 73 (1982): 77-79. [1757] Murray, F. "The Spirituality of Thomas More. Report on the Conference held by the Amici Thomae Mori at The Cenacle Retreat and Conference Centre, Burnham, Bucks., 26-28 June 1970." Moreana 27/28 (1970): 89-91. [1758] Murray, F. "Thomas More: The Theologian. Report on the Second Annual Conference of the Amici Thomae Mori at the Cenacle Conference Centre, Burnham, Bucks., 2-4 July 1971." Moreana 33 (1972): 33-35. [1759] Plant, R. M. "Thomas More and his Circle Kalamazoo, 1986." Moreana 94 (1986): 35-38. ^ [1760] ^. "Thomas More and his Circle Kalamazoo, 1987-88." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 35-38. Surveys of Criticism [1761] Person, J. E., Jr., ed. Literature Criticism from 1400 to 1800. Detroit: Gale Research Inc., 1989. Vol. 10: 353-456. [Rev.: E. McCutcheon, Moreana 101/102 (1990): 209-11. Part of a multivolume series.] [1762] Tucker, M., ed. The Beginnings to the Seventeenth Century. Vol. 1 of Moulton's Library of Literary Criticism of English and American Authors: Through the Beginning of the Twentieth Century. 4 vols. New York: Frederick Ungar, rev. ed. 1966. 1: 91-98. ^ [1763] ^. The Critical Temper: A Survey of Modern Criticism on English and American Literature from the Beginnings to the Twentieth Century. 4 vols. New York: Frederick Ungar, vols. 1-3: 1969, vol.4: 1979. 1: 215-34 + 4: 96-102. Exhibitions and Libraries, etc. [1764] "A Handlist of Printed Books in Guildhall Library by or relating to Sir Thomas More." The Guildhall Miscellany 4: 11 (Oct. 1971): 44-60 + 1 plate. [1765] "Catalogue of Relics, Portraits, Prints, Books, Documents, and Other Memorials of Sir Thomas More: As Shown at the Exhibition Held at the Beaufort Street Shrine, Chelsea 9th-13th July, 1929." Appendix I in The Fame of Blessed Thomas More, Being Addresses Delivered in his Honour in Chelsea, July 1929. London: Sheed & Ward, 1929. 117-29. [The catalogue of an exhibition held in 1929 at the convent built on part of the site of More's great house at Chelsea.] [1766] "La fontaine Thomas More a Krefeld par Anneliese Langenbach. Photo: Hartmut Vogler." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 168. Thomas More Bibliography / 408 [1767] Noakes, A. "Fresh Light on More's Sources of Richard III Thrown by the National Portrait Gallery's Exhibition." See Richard III: Literary and Historical Studies. [1768] Roberts, K. "The Thomas More Exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery." Burlington Magazine 120 (1978): 39-40 + 1 plate. [1769] "St. Thomas More and St. John Fisher." Bodleian Library Record 8 (1935/37): 66-72. [Rev.: TLS 23 May 1935: 336. A list of works displayed at Oxford during an exhibition to celebrate the canonization of Sir Thomas More and Bishop John Fisher.] [1770] "Sir Thomas More, 1478-1535: An Exhibition." BJRL 61 (1978/79): 3-7. [Report of an exhibition at the John Rylands Library.] [1771] Tinnelly, J. P. "A Statue to St. Thomas More." Catholic Lawyer 13 (1967): 4-7, 90. [1772] Trapp, J. B., and H. S. Herbriiggen. The King's Good Servant: Sir Thomas More 1477/1478-1535. See Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics. See also Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics. B.7. FRIENDS AND CONTEMPORARIES OF MORE More and Bude [1773] Garanderie, M.-M. de la. "Guillaume Bude lecteur de l'Utopie." See Utopia: Prefatory Letters. ^[1774] ^. "La correspondance de Guillaume Bude et Thomas More." See Literary Letters. [1775] Marc'hadour, G. "Bude of Paris and More of London." Moreana 19/20 (1968): 157-64. [1776] Schoeck, R. J. "The Ironic and the Prophetic: Towards Reading More's Utopia as a Multidisciplinary Work." See Utopia: Prefatory Letters and Parerga. [1777] Schrenck, G. "Profils d'Humanistes: Bude, Erasme, More d'apres leur correspondance (1500-1530)." Travaux de linguistique et de litterature [Strasbourg] 21:2 (1983): 105-19. More and Erasmus [1778] Klawiter, R. "Thomas More, Erasmus and Ulrich von Hutten: Some Reflections." Moreana 67/68 [Thomas More Gazette 2] (1980): 17-30. ^ [1779] ^. "Telling More from Erasmus: An Essai in Renaissance Humanism." Moreana 91/92 (1986): 11-19. [1780] Sowards, J. K. "Thomas More, Erasmus and Julius II: A Case of Advocacy." Moreana 24 (1969): 81-99. [On the Julius Exclusus and More.] [1781] Thompson, M. G. "Satire and the Satiric Spirit in the Works of Desiderius Erasmus and St. Thomas More." M. A. Diss. U of Toronto, 1948. [Directed by A. E. Barker.] [1782] Fantazzi, C. "Vives, More and Erasmus." Juan Luis Vives. Arbeitsgesprüch in der Herzog August Bibliothek Wolfenbuttel vom 6. bis. 8. November 1980. Ed. A. Buck. Wolfenbtitteler Abhandlungen zur Renaissanceforschung 3. Hamburg: Dr. Ernst Hauswedell & Co., 1981. 164-76. Thomas More Bibliography / 409 [1783] Villoslada, P. G. "Tomas Moro en las epfstolas de Erasmo." See Literary Letters. [1784] Weiner, A. D. "Erasmus, More and the Shape of Persuasion." Moreana 65/66 (1980): 87-98. [Summ.: A. J. Geritz, ELR 22 (1992): 116.] See also Utopia: More and Erasmus, and Early Biographers: Erasmus. More and Fisher [1785] Baker, A. "Et ab invicem non sunt separati." ClergyR ns 44 (1959): 425-28. [On the martyrdoms of More and Fisher.] [1786] "Blessed John Fisher and Blessed Thomas More." The Venerabile 3 (1926-28): 137-46 + 2 plates. [Summ.: F. Murray, Moreana 19/20 (1968): 100.] [1787] Janelle, P. "Humanisme et unite chretienne: John Fisher et Thomas More." Etudes 223 (1935): 442-60. [1788] "John Fisher and Thomas More." TLS 30 May 1935: 337-38. [1789] Marc'hadour, G. "Sur John Fisher et Thomas More." RHE 70 (1975): 49-59. [1790] Ravaze, M., trans. "Eloge de Fisher et de Morus." Moreana 78 (1983): 90-92. [Reginald Pole's praise of Fisher and More.] [1791] Schieser, H. A. "Education for Civil Courage: The Examples of Thomas More and John Fisher." Thomas-Morus-Jahrbuch 1984/85. Ed. H. Boventer. Dusseldorf: Triltsch, 1985. 133-36. [1792] Smith, R. L. John Fisher and Thomas More: Two English Saints. London: Sheed & Ward, 1935. [Rev.: TLS 30 May 1935: 349. English lives presented to the Pope (Pius XI) as part of the Canonization process in 1935.] [1793] Surtz, E. "More's Friendship with Fisher." Moreana 15/16 (1967): 115-33. Rpt. in Essential Articles. 169-79, 607-11. More and Elyot [1794] Major, J. H. "Sir Thomas More." Sir Thomas Elyot and Renaissance Humanism. Lincoln, NE: U of Nebraska P, 1964. 89-139. [Rev.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 9 (1966): 52-56. On Elyot's friendship with More.] [1795] Wilson, K. J. "Usque ad aras: Thomas Elyot's Friendship with Thomas More." Acta Conuentus Neo-Latini Sanctandreani. 531-35. See also Early Biographers: Roper, and Utopia: Elyot, Milton, Shakespeare, and Webster. More and Shakespeare [1796] Macnalty, A. S. "Shakespeare and Sir Thomas More." E&S ns 12 (1959): 36-57. [Summ.: C. A. Toase, AES 3 (1960): 1891.] [1797] Milward, P. "Three Essays on Shakespeare and Religion: 1. Thomas More and William Shakespeare." Shakespeare Yearbook 1 (1990): 117-24. Thomas More Bibliography / 410 See also Richard III, Shakespeare and the Book of Sir Thomas Moore, and Utopia: Elyot, Milton, Shakespeare, and Webster. Moreana in the Sixteenth, Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries [1798] Doyle, C. C. "Moreana, 1604-1660." Moreana 41 (1974): 11-18. ^ [1799] ^. "Moreana of the Late Seventeenth and Early Eighteenth Centuries." Moreana 45 (1975): 53-60. ^ [1800] ^. "Moreana of the Seventeenth and Eighteenth Centuries." Moreana 34 (1972): 47-55. [Additions to R. W. Gibson's Bibliography.] ^[1801] ^. "Moreana of Tudor Times." Moreana 38 (1973): 13-20. [Additions to R. W. Gibson's Bibliography.] [1802] Dust, P. "A Reference to More in Philemon Holland's Translation of Suetonius's Vitae Caesarum." See Latin Epigrams. [1803] Gabrieli, V., and G. Melchiori, eds. "Appendix E: Harington." Sir Thomas More. A Play by Anthony Munday and Others. Revised by Henry Chettle, Thomas Dekker, Thomas Heywood and William Shakespeare. The Revels Plays. Manchester: Manchester UP, 1990. 252. [A short excerpt from the Metamorphosis of Ajax.] [1804] Hogan, J. W. "A Thomas More Reference in Calvin's Isaiah Commentary." Moreana 45 (1975): 37-38. [1805] Marc'hadour, G. "Early Stuart Additions to Gibson (and to the O.E.D.)." Moreana 36 (1972): 91-92. [On `utopicar and `aperies' in the works of Sir John Haywarde.] [1806] McCutcheon, E. "A Mid-Tudor Owner of More's Utopia: Sir William More." Moreana 70 (1981): 32-35. ^ [1807] ^. "Sir Dudley Digges and More's Utopia." Moreana 69 (1981): 79-80. [1808] Pineas, R. "John Bale on Thomas More." Moreana 90 (1986): 77-78. [1809] Prescott, A. L. "Thomas Nash (1588-1648) and Thomas More." Moreana 59/60 (1978): 35-41. [1810] Rude, D. W. "Some Unreported Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century References to Sir Thomas More." Moreana 101/102 (1990): 147-49. [1811] Sorlein, R. P. "Thomas More Anecdotes in an Elizabethan Diary." Moreana 34 (1972): 81-82. [One is original, the other retold from Roper or Harpsfield?] [1812] Stanwood, P. G., and L. Yeandle. "Richard Hooker's Use of Thomas More." Moreana 35 (1972): 5-16. [1813] Williams. F. B. "Some More Allusions." Moreana 27/28 (1970): 83-87. [Some 16th and 17th century allusions.] See also Utopia in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries, and Reprints, Translations, and Adaptations of More's Epigrams in the Sixteenth and Seventeenth Centuries. Thomas More Bibliography / 411 More and France [1814] Delcourt, J. "Saint Thomas More and France." Traditio 5 (1947): 285-310. [On More's contacts with France during his lifetime, and on his later reputation among the French.] [1815] Schneider, M. H. "Thomas More as Viewed by Two French Jurists." Moreana 27 (1970): 107-10. More and Italy [1816] Corrigan, B. "Sir Thomas More: Personage and Symbol on the Italian Stage." See Thomas More and Drama: Other Plays. [1817] Scaltriti, G. "Tommaso Moro e Girolamo Savonarola, testimoni e profeti. Gli Americani di Tommaso Moro." Renovatio: rivista di teologia e culture [Genoa] 3:1 (1968): 79-104. [Summ.: G. Marc'hadour, Moreana 17 (1968): 84.] [1818] Trapp, J. B. "Supplementa Iconographica Moreana: Portraits of Thomas More in Italy and in Spain." See Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics. [1819] Wheeler, T. "An Italian Account of Thomas More's Trial and Execution." See More's Trial, Imprisonment, Execution, and Martyrdom. [1820] ^. "Thomas More in Italy: 1535-1700." Moreana 27/28 (1970): 15-23. See also Life of Pico More and Spain [1821] Estrada, F. L. Tombs Moro y Esparia, sus relaciones hasta el siglo XVIII. Madrid: Editorial de la Universidad Complutense, 1980. [Rev.: C. Lemarie, Moreana 69 (1981): 157-58 (rpt. in S. Zavala, Recuerdo de Vasco de Quiroga, Mexico: Editorial Porrtia, 2nd ed. 1987, 271-75).] [1822] Estrada, F. L. "Tomas Moro en un Libro de Fray Alonso de la Torre, cartujo sevillano" [Thomas More in a Book by Alonso de la Torre, a Seville Carthusian]. Miscellanea Moreana. 517-31. [Summ.: R. H. Kossoff, Moreana 98/99 (1988): 166-67, 261; (Fr./E.) R. H. K. and H. D. R., Miscellanea Moreana. 530-31.] [1823] Trapp, J. B. "Supplementa Iconographica Moreana: Portraits of Thomas More in Italy and in Spain." See Iconography, Music, Painting and Mathematics. [1824] Zavala, S. "Tomas Moro y los libros. Un eco de Sevilla, 1638." Dietlogos [Review of El Colegio de Mexico] 89 (1979): 39-40. Rpt. in Recuerdo de Vasco de Quiroga. Mexico: Editorial Pornia, 2nd ed. 1987. 211-14. See also Utopia, Spain, New Spain and America Unclassified [1825] Huber, P. Traditionsfestigkeit and Traditionshritik bei Thomas Morus. Basler Beitrage zur Geschichtswissenschaft 47. Basel: Helbing & Lichtenhahn, 1953. [1826] Rousseau, M.-C. "Non sum Oedipus, sed Morus." Moreana 91/92 (1986): 173-87. 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work_ykei74fc7zd2vc6qc6ad27rwpq	----	ISSN 1392–8295 mokslo darbai transactions RESPECTUS PHILOLOGICUS 2012 Nr. 22 (27) Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach RESPECTUS PHILOLOGICUS Nr. 22 (27) M O K S L I N I S T Ę S T I N I S L E I D I N Y S Leidžia Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas ir Jano Kochanovskio universiteto Huma- nitarinis fakultetas Kielcuose du kartus per metus (balandžio 25 d. ir spalio 25 d.). Mokslo kryptis: filologija (04H). Mokslo sritys: gramatika, semantika, semiotika, sintaksė (H 352), bendroji ir lyginamoji literatūra, literatūros kritika, literatūros teorija (H 390). Pagrindinės kalbos: lietuvių, lenkų, anglų, rusų. C Z A S O P I S M O N A U K O W E Wydawcy: Uniwersytet Wileński – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie oraz Uniwersytet Jana Kochanow- skiego – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kielcach. Ukazuje się dwa razy w roku: 25 kwietnia i 25 października. Kierunek naukowy: filologia (04H). Dyscypliny naukowe: gramatyka, semiotyka, semantyka, syntaktyka (H 352), literatura ogólna i porównawcza, krytyka literacka, teoria literatury (H 390). Podstawowe języki: polski, litewski, angielski i rosyjski. O N G O I N G A C A D E M I C P U B L I C AT I O N Published twice a year (April 25, October 25) by Vilnius University Kaunas Faculty of Humanities and Jan Kochanovski University Faculty of Humanities in Kielce. Scientific field: philology (04H). Research areas: grammar, semantics, semiotics, syntax (H 352), general and comparative literature, literary criticism, literary theory (H 390). The journal accepts articles and correspondence written in English, Lithuanian, Polish and Russian. Įregistruotas tarptautinėse duomenų bazėse / Indeksowane w międzynarodowych bazach danych / Abstracted and indexed by the international databases Balcan Rusistics (2004) http://www.russian.slavica.org Russian Language, Literature and Cultural Studies CEEOL (2005) http://www.ceeol.com Central and Eastern European Online Library EBSCO (2006) http://www.ebsco.com Humanities International Complete Current Abstracts Humanities International Index TOC Premier MLA (2007) http://www.mla.org/ Modern Language Association International Bibliography Index Copernicus (2008) http://www.indexcopernicus.com Lituanistika (2011) http://www/minfolit.lt Index Copernicus Redakcijos adresas / Adres redakcji / Address of the editorial board Žurnalas „Respectus Philologicus“ Vilniaus universitetas Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas Muitinės g. 8, LT-44280 Kaunas, Lietuva Tel. +370 37 750 536 El. paštas / E-mail respectus@gmail.com Interneto svetainė / Strona internetowa / Homepage http://filologija.vukhf.lt Moksliniai ir kalbos redaktoriai / Redakcja naukowa i językowa / Scientific editors Gabija Bankauskaitė-Sereikienė (lietuvių kalba / język litewski / Lithuanian language) Kazimierz Luciński, Beata Piasecka (lenkų kalba / język polski / Polish language) Algis Braun (anglų kalba / język angielski / English language) Eleonora Lassan, Viktorija Makarova (rusų kalba / język rosyjski / Russian language) Pagrindinė redaktorė / Redaktor prowadzący / Publishing editor Viktorija Makarova ISSN 1392–8295 © Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas, 2012 © Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kielcach, 2012 SPRENDIMAI 3 REDAKTORIŲ KOLEGIJA – KOLEGIUM REDAKCYJNE Eleonora Lassan VU KHF profesorė, habil. dr. (04H), Lietuva, vyriausioji redaktorė Profesor Uniwersytetu Wileńskiego – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, dr hab. (04H), Litwa, redaktor naczelny Kazimierz Luciński Jano Kochanovskio universiteto Kielcuose profesorius, habil. dr. (04H), Lenkija, vyriausiosios redaktorės pavaduotojas Profesor Uniwersytetu Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach, dr hab. (04H), Polska, zastępca redaktora naczelnego Irina Oukhvanova-Shmygova Baltarusijos valstybinio universiteto profesorė, dr. (04H), Baltarusija, vyriausiosios redaktorės pavaduotoja Profesor Białoruskiego Uniwersytetu Państwowego, dr (04H), Białoruś, zastępca redaktora naczelnego Gabija Bankauskaitė-Sereikienė VU KHF profesorė, dr. (04H), Lietuva, atsakingoji sekretorė Profesor Uniwersytetu Wileńskiego – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, dr (04H), Litwa, sekretarz kolegium Daiva Aliūkaitė VU KHF docentė, dr. (04H), Lietuva Docent Uniwersytetu Wileńskiego – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, dr (04H), Litwa Danutė Balšaitytė VU Užsienio kalbų instituto profesorė, dr. (04H), Lietuva Profesor Uniwersytetu Wileńskiego – Instytut Języków Obcych, dr (04H), Litwa Wiesław Caban Jano Kochanovskio universiteto Kielcuose profesorius, habil. dr. (05H), Lenkija Profesor Uniwersytetu Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach, dr hab. (05H), Polska Renato Corsetti Romos universiteto „La Sapienza“ profesorius, habil. dr. (04H), Italija Profesor Uniwersytetu Rzymskiego „La Sapienza”, dr hab. (04H), Włochy Anatolij Chudinov Uralo valstybinio pedagoginio universiteto profesorius, dr. (04H), Rusija Profesor Uralskiego Państwowego Uniwersytetu Pedago- gicznego, dr (04H), Rosja Hans-Jürgen Diller Bochumo Ruhro universiteto profesorius, habil. dr. (04H), Vokietija Profesor Uniwersytetu Ruhry w Bochum, dr hab. (04H), Niemcy Aloyzas Gudavičius Šiaulių universiteto profesorius, habil. dr. (04H), Lietuva Profesor Uniwersytetu w Šiauliai, dr hab. (04H), Litwa Laima Kalėdienė Lietuvių kalbos instituto vyriausioji mokslo darbuotoja, profesorė, dr. (04H), Lietuva Starszy pracownik naukowy, profesor w Instytucie Języka Litewskiego, dr (04H), Litwa 4 Juris Kastinš Latvijos universiteto profesorius, habil. dr. (04H), Latvija Profesor Uniwersytetu Łotewskiego w Rydze, dr hab. (04H), Łotwa Asta Kazlauskienė Vytauto Didžiojo universiteto profesorė, dr. (04H), Lietuva Profesor Uniwersytetu Witolda Wielkiego, dr (04H), Litwa Jurij Kleiner Sankt Peterburgo universiteto profesorius, habil. dr. (04H), Rusija Profesor Uniwersytetu w Sankt Petersburgu, dr hab. (04H), Rosja Aleksandras Krasnovas VU KHF profesorius, dr. (04H), Lietuva Profesor Uniwersytetu Wileńskiego – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, dr (04H), Litwa Jadvyga Krūminienė VU KHF profesorė, dr. (04H), Lietuva Profesor Uniwersytetu Wileńskiego – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, dr (04H), Litwa Jurgita Mikelionienė Kauno technologijos universiteto docentė, dr. (04H), Lietuva Docent Uniwersytetu Technologicznego w Kownie, dr (04H), Litwa Gerald E. Mikkelson Kanzaso universiteto profesorius, dr. (04H), JAV Profesor Uniwersytetu w Kansas, dr (04H), USA Olegas Poliakovas VU KHF profesorius, habil. dr. (04H), Lietuva Profesor Uniwersytetu Wileńskiego – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, dr hab. (04H), Litwa Marek Ruszkowski Jano Kochanovskio universiteto Kielcuose profesorius, habil. dr. (04H), Lenkija Profesor Uniwersytetu Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach, dr hab. (04H), Polska Yuri Stulov Minsko valstybinio lingvistikos universiteto profesorius, dr. (04H), Europos „Amerikos studijų asociacijos“ Baltarusijos filialo prezidentas, Baltarusija Profesor Państwowego Uniwersytetu Lingwistycznego w Mińsku, dr (04H), prezes białoruskiej filii Europejskiego Stowarzyszenia Studiów Amerykanistycznych, Białoruś Leona Toker Jeruzalės Žydų universiteto profesorė, habil. dr. (04H), Izraelis Profesor Uniwersytetu Hebrajskiego w Jerozolimie, dr hab. (04H), Izrael SPRENDIMAI 5 EDITORIAL BOARD Eleonora Lassan Professor (04H), Vilnius University (Kaunas Faculty of Humanities), Lithuania, editor-in-chief Kazimierz Luciński Professor (04H), Jan Kochanovski University in Kielce, Poland, deputy editor-in-chief Irina Oukhvanova-Shmygova Professor (04H), Belarusian State University, Belarus, deputy editor-in-chief Gabija Bankauskaitė-Sereikienė Professor (04H), Vilnius University (Kaunas Faculty of Humanities), Lithuania, managing secretary Daiva Aliūkaitė Associate Professor (04H), Vilnius University (Kaunas Faculty of Humanities), Lithuania Danutė Balšaitytė Professor (04H), Vilnius University (Institute of Foreign Languages), Lithuania Wiesław Caban Professor (05H), Jan Kochanovski University in Kielce, Poland Renato Corsetti Professor (04H), University of Rome “La Sapienza”, Italy Anatolij Chudinov Professor (04H), Ural State Pedagogical University, Russia Hans-Jürgen Diller Professor (04H), Ruhr University Bochum, Germany Aloyzas Gudavičius Professor (04H), Šiauliai University, Lithuania Laima Kalėdienė Professor (04H), Senior Researcher, Institute of Lithuanian Language, Lithuania Juris Kastinš Professor (04H), Latvian University, Latvia Asta Kazlauskienė Professor (04H), Vytautas Magnus University, Lithuania Jurij Kleiner Professor (04H), St. Petersburg University, Russia Aleksandras Krasnovas Professor (04H), Vilnius University (Kaunas Faculty of Humanities), Lithuania Jadvyga Krūminienė Professor (04H), Vilnius University (Kaunas Faculty of Humanities), Lithuania Jurgita Mikelionienė Associate Professor (04H), Kaunas University of Technology, Lithuania Gerald E. Mikkelson Professor (04H), the University of Kansas, USA Olegas Poliakovas Professor (04H), Vilnius University (Kaunas Faculty of Humanities), Lithuania Marek Ruszkowski Professor (04H), Jan Kochanovski University in Kielce, Poland Yuri Stulov Professor (04H), Minsk State Linguistic University, President of European Association for American Studies in Belarus, Belarus Leona Toker Professor (04H), The Hebrew University of Jerusalem, Izrael SPRENDIMAI 7 T U R I N Y S / S P I S T R E Ś C I I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI / PROBLEMY I ICH ROZWIĄZANIA Wojciech Majka (Lenkija / Polska). Truth and the Phenomenological Landscape of Perception .......................................................................................................................11 Элеонора Лассан (Lietuva / Litwa). Культурные сценарии мышления и этикетные интернет-жанры (об интернет-поздравлениях в четырех культурах) ..........................21 Vladimir Ozyumenko (Rusija / Rosja). Modality in English and Russian Legislative Discourse: A Comparative Study .........................................................................................37 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Michał Mazurkiewicz (Lenkija / Polska). Rodzaje, interpretacje i funkcje mitu ......................45 Сауле Алтыбаева (Kazachstanas / Kazachstan). Нарративные модели современного казахского исторического романа ....................................................................................57 Наталья Ковтун (Rusija / Rosja). Интертекстуальная игра в романе Л. Улицкой «Медея и ее дети» .............................................................................................................70 Mindaugas Grigaitis (Lietuva / Litwa). Transgrediencijos raiška Broniaus Radzevičiaus novelių rinktinėje Link Debesijos ........................................................................................87 Ewa Anna Piasta (Lenkija / Polska). Aspekty metafizyczne w poezji Rose Ausländer ...........103 Artūras Cechanovičius, Jadvyga Krūminienė (Lietuva / Litwa). Vladimir Nabokov’s Self-Translated Lolita: Revisiting the Original Alliterative Modes ..................................115 Лара Синельникова (Ukraina / Ukraina). Нанолингвистика: реальность существования .............................................................................................130 Skirmantė Biržietienė (Lietuva / Litwa). Lietuviškos socialinės reklamos retorika: įtikinimo būdai ...................................................................................................................144 Jurga Cibulskienė (Lietuva / Litwa). Metaphors of Economic and Financial Crisis: Identified, Interpreted and Explained ................................................................................156 Saulė Juzelėnienė, Viktorija Seredžiūtė, Skirmantė Šarkauskienė (Lietuva / Litwa). Antropomorfinės laiko metaforos šiuolaikinėje lietuvių poezijoje ....................................167 Lina Buividavičiūtė (Lietuva / Litwa). Egzistencijos tipai Ričardo Gavelio romane Vilniaus pokeris .................................................................................................................180 Michał Łuczyński (Lenkija / Polska). Czesko-polskie stosunki językowe w zakresie słownictwa kultury duchowej (przeszłość i stan obecny) ..............................190 Anna Korycka (Lenkija / Polska). Analiza wybranych cech fonetycznych i morfologicznych występujących w polskich pieśniach ludowych z Wileńszczyzny ...................................197 III. NUOMONĖ / OPINIE I POGLĄDY Jacek Szajewski (Lenkija / Polska). On “Politeness” and “Polite Lies” in Everyday Discourse .......................................................................................................205 8 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE Vilija Ragaišienė (Lietuva / Litwa). Daiktavardžių kirčiavimo polinkiai XX a. 6–7 dešimtmečio pietų aukštaičių šnektų rankraštiniuose šaltiniuose ...............................219 Dalia Sviderskienė (Lietuva / Litwa). Tarpukariu užrašytų Marijampolės apskrities vietovardžių tyrimo pradiniai rezultatai ir perspektyvos ...................................................232 V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY Patrick Sériot (Šveicarija / Szwajcaria). Kalba, valdžia ir kūnas. II dalis. Vertė / Tłum. Vilhelmina Vitkauskienė .....................................................................................................244 VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGO K o n f e r e n c i j ų a p ž v a l g o s / K o n f e r e n c j e Tatiana Larina (Rusija / Rosja). Transdisciplinary Dialogue about the Wider Europe: Europeanization, Multiculturalism, Plurilingualism and Other Issues ..............................254 Anatoliy Kruglashov (Ukraina, Lietuva / Ukraina, Litwa). Discussing the Role and Future of the Humanities Education Worldwide ...........................................................................260 K n y g ų r e c e n z i j o s / R e c e n z j e k s i ą ż e k Дануте Балшайтите (Lietuva / Litwa). Словарь-тезаурус прилагательных русского языка. 2012. Под общ. ред. Л. Г. Бабенко .....................................................................262 Jolanta Chwastyk-Kowalczyk (Lenkija / Polska). PYŁAT, J., 2012. Friends of Poland 1982–2009 ...........................................................................................271 A n o n s a i / Z a p o w i e d z i .............................................................................................274 VII. REIKALAVIMAI STRAIPSNIAMS / ZASADY OPRACOWYWANIA PUBLIKACJI .............................................275 VIII. MŪSŲ AUTORIAI / NASI AUTORZY ............................................................285 SPRENDIMAI 9 C O N T E N T S I. PROBLEMS AND SOLUTIONS Wojciech Majka (Poland). Truth and the Phenomenological Landscape of Perception ............11 Eleonora Lassan (Lithuania). The Mental Scenarios and Internet Genre Etiquette of Different Cultures (Based on Online Greetings in Four Languages) ..............................21 Vladimir Ozyumenko (Russia). Modality in English and Russian Legislative Discourse: A Comparative Study...........................................................................................................37 II. FACTS AND REFLECTIONS Michał Mazurkiewicz (Poland). The Types, Interpretations and Functions of Myth ................45 Saulė Altybayeva (Kazachstan). The Narrative Models of the Modern Kazakh Historical Novel ...................................................................................................................57 Natalia Kovtun (Russia). The Intertextual Game in Ulitskaya’s Novel Medea and Her Children .....................................................................................................70 Mindaugas Grigaitis (Lithuania). Transgredience in Toward Debesija by Bronius Radzevičius ............................................................................................................87 Ewa Anna Piasta (Poland). Metaphysical Aspects of Rose Ausländer’s Poetry ......................103 Artūras Cechanovičius, Jadvyga Krūminienė (Lithuania). Vladimir Nabokov’s Self-Translated Lolita: Revisiting the Original Alliterative Modes ..................................115 Lara Sinelnikova (Ukraine). Nanolinguistics: Reality of Existence ........................................130 Skirmantė Biržietienė (Lithuania). Rhetoric of Lithuanian Social Advertising: The Ways to Persuade ........................................................................................................144 Jurga Cibulskienė (Lithuania). Metaphors of Economic and Financial Crisis: Identified, Interpreted and Explained ................................................................................156 Saulė Juzelėnienė, Viktorija Seredžiūtė, Skirmantė Šarkauskienė (Lithuania). Anthropomorphic Metaphors of time in Modern Lithuanian Poetry .................................167 Lina Buividavičiūtė (Lithuania). Types of Existence in the Romance Vilnius Poker by Ričardas Gavelis ....................................................................................180 Michał Łuczyński (Poland). Czech and Polish Linguistic Relations in the Vocabulary of Spiritual Culture (Past and Present) ..............................................................................190 Anna Korycka (Poland). Analysis of Chosen Phonetic and Morphological Features Present in Polish Folk Songs in the Vilnius Region ..........................................................197 III. OPINION Jacek Szajewski (Poland). On “Politeness” and “Polite Lies” in Everyday Discourse ...........205 10 IV. CONFERENCE MATERIAL Vilija Ragaišienė (Lithuania). Tendencies in Noun Stress in the Southern Aukštaitian Subdialects in Handwritten Sources of the 1950s and 1960s ............................................219 Dalia Sviderskienė (Lithuania). Marijampolė County Place-Names Recorded during the Interwar Period: Initial Survey Results and Prospects ................................................232 V. OUR TRANSLATIONS Patrick Sériot (Switzerland). Language, Government and Body. Part II. Trans. Vilhelmina Vitkauskienė ..........................................................................................244 VI. SCIENTIFIC LIFE CHRONICLE C o n f e r e n c e s Tatiana Larina (Russia). Transdisciplinary Dialogue about the Wider Europe: Europeanization, Multiculturalism, Plurilingualism and Other Issues ..............................254 Anatoliy Kruglashov (Ukraine, Lithuania). Discussing the Role and Future of the Humanities Education Worldwide ...........................................................................260 B o o k r e v i e w s Danutė Balšaitytė (Lithuania). Dictionary of Adjectives of the Russian Language. Ed. L. G. Babenko: Словарь-тезаурус прилагательных русского языка. 2012. Под общ. ред. Л. Г. Бабенко ............................................................................................262 Jolanta Chwastyk-Kowalczyk (Poland). PYŁAT, J., 2012. Friends of Poland 1982–2009 ...........................................................................................271 A n n o u n c e m e n t s .............................................................................................................274 VII. REQUIREMENTS FOR PUBLICATION ................................................... 275 VIII. OUR AUTHORS........................................................................................ 285 SPRENDIMAI 11 I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI / PROBLEMY I ICH ROZWIĄZANIA Wojciech Majka Pedagogical University of Cracow Institute of Modern Languages Karmelicka 41; 31-128 Cracow, Poland Tel.: +48 126 626 205 E-mail: wojciech-majka@wp.pl Research interests: history of British literature, history of American literature, phenomenol- ogy in literary and cultural studies, psychology and literature, the European intellectual tradition TRUTH AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL LANDSCAPE OF PERCEPTION The main objective of the article is to present the phenomenological understanding of the idea of truth (alētheia). In the Heideggerian sense, alētheia is not limited to the traditional rendering of truth as coherence or correspondence. In other words, truth is not restricted to the appropriate or inappropriate ways of the representation of given aspects of cognitive experience. Instead, truth comes close to the notion of perception in the sense that it refers to the general way in which the world is unconcealed to human understanding. Of course, the adopted approach asks us to bracket the subject/object division that stands behind traditio- nal metaphysical thinking ever since the time of Plato. In other words, the subject is not the starting point of experience; rather, the subject is a passive recipient of the kind of being-in- -the-world—to use Merleau-Pontyian terminology—that is extending around it. Accounting for the phenomenological understanding of truth obliges us also to look at language not in the representative sense, but rather to regard it as the essencing of the vocabulary of being through which the world is revealed. This means that language is not just an abstract sign system based on the relation of signified—signifier in the Saussurian sense, but the ontological position from which we perceive the world and our existence in it. KEY WORDS: Merleau-Ponty, Heidegger, language, disclosure, truth, accordance, freedom, essence, perception, idea. Introduction From a typically hermeneutical perspective, the understanding of the notion of truth is silhouetted against the Greek term alētheia. However, the term possesses a much deeper epistemological dimension. In point of fact we need to understand alētheia similarly to Heidegger, and therefore, take it to de- signate a phenomenon called disclosure or unconcealment. Concealment deprives alētheia of disclosure yet does not render it sterēsis (privation); rather, concealment preserves what is most proper to alētheia as its own. Considered with respect to truth as disclo- sedness, concealment is then undisclosed- ness and accordingly the untruth that is most proper to the essence of truth. The conce- alment of beings as a whole does not first show up subsequently as a consequence of the fact that knowledge of beings is always 12 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA fragmentary. The concealment of beings as a whole, untruth proper, is older than every openedness of this or that being (Heidegger 1993, p. 130). Thus, truth as alētheia refers generally to the conditions in which the world unfolds in our comportment and understanding, and therefore, it comes closer to the idea of per- ception than to the conventional rendering of the phenomenon of truth (understood as correspondence or coherence). For our pur- poses, we will divide the notion of truth into two different classes. First, we will look at the idea of propositional truth which came to dominate in the onto-theological tradition. The propositional dimension of truth can be said to open up the theoretical landscape of meaning, where things are reducible to the idea of correctness of representation. Secondly, our understanding of truth will take into account its ontic landscape, i.e., ontic truth as the uncoveredness of entities within the phenomenological field of expe- rience. The ontic aspect of truth discloses the practical dimension of truth that has been disregarded by the onto-theological tradition which sought to reduce human experience to the notions of rationality and consciousness. Taken together what these notions make possible is representative forms of cognition. The Propositional Landscape of Truth The propositional understanding of truth is reducible, as we have mentioned above, to the idea of correctness of representation. Truth, therefore, is the effect of what the Greeks called homoisis, i.e., correspon- dence. Another understanding of truth as correctness of representation is encapsu- lated in the dictum, veritas est adaequatio intellectus ad rem. Thus, truth as adequation is based on the belief that there is a cor- respondence between a physical entity or condition and its direct representation in the mind. Therefore, truth as well as knowledge is what we achieve when we learn to find the necessary links between the transcendental ego (the subject) and the physical thing or experience (the object). Needless to say, this is a typically Car- tesian understanding of knowledge, since its foundation is rooted in dualism—recall Descartes’s famous example of two separate notions of reality that exist side by side and need to be attuned for any meaningful ex- periences to take place. These two monadic landscapes of experience are the mind and the body, which, as we have mentioned before, must be attuned—for, as Descartes declares, “the nature of the intelligence is distinct from that of the body” (1969, p. 129). Nevertheless, the epistemological consequences of this thinking ask us to go further than that, i.e., not only seek the connections between the mind and the body. Instead, we should see the whole of human experience to be rooted in the subject’s cor- respondence to objective reality or vice ver- sa, as the essence of Cartesianism dwells in deductionism according to which the world is a phenomenon that appears in human de- ductions and, therefore, it must correspond to them. However, we may never know if the propositions that we have formed about the world are correct, or if they were falla- ciously inspired by the Cartesian demon at whose behest we misperceive reality and all our knowledge. The propositional understanding of truth, therefore, discloses the theoretical landscape of the cogito, the royal chamber of subjectivity that sees the SPRENDIMAI 13 world and the experiences that it makes possible through the veil of representation. In other words, the propositions themselves are believed to be the ultimate source of the subject’s assumptions connected with the world and all possible experiences. The Ontic Landscape of Truth What the propositional understanding of truth takes for granted—or what it simply fails to comprehend—is that conscio- usness, and therefore, rationality do not constitute the fundamental way in which we are. In other words, without denying the value of conscious experiences, we must signal at this point that the conscious experiences in question are not the basic way in which we find ourselves involved in the world. Therefore, we need to aban- don the “ghost in the machine” point of view criticized, for example, by Gilbert Ryle (2001, p. 353) which opens up the theoretical (in the sense of representative) landscape of meaning in favour of our practical involvement in reality; this is what Merleau-Ponty understands through the expression “the flesh of the world” (1964, p. 16). Thus, before we get to be conscious, and therefore, before we are in a position to formulate any propositions about the world that would exemplify the all-pervasive influence of representative consciousness, we are always and already in the world, managing our way in it and coping with things on a transparent basis. This is how Dreyfus addresses the issue: ...the natural situation of everyday activities is meant to show that the traditional epistemic situation of a mind distinct from objects, whether observing or acting upon them, is a deficient mode of being-in-the-world and cannot, therefore, have the braced philosophical implications modern philosophers of mind have supposed (Dreyfus 1991, p. 54). Our automatic attunement to reality, which is that of being-in-the-world, is cha- racterized by all the actions that we commit ourselves to that are not beshadowed by intentionality, and therefore, consciousness. The pre-intentional functions constitute the dimensions of our reflexive or instinctive behaviours. All of this really amounts to the idea that our basic way of being is that of automatic know-how and not conscious de- liberation. Therefore, when we speak of hu- man experience and the field of knowledge which opens to it, we should first of all give priority to our practical involvement in the world, to the automatic know-how which constitutes the essence of our attunement to the world which thereby creates the landscape for the experience called being- -in-the-world, for it is being-in-the-world that obliges us to reformulate our basic beliefs about the importance of rationality and consciousness in human experience. We can try to come to terms with our practical involvement in the world, in which we transparently cope with things, if we look closely at the notion of com- portment: Comportment (Verhalten) is a very broad term that is meant to include every instance in which we experience something, and everything that we do… [c]omportment is broader than the class of deliberate actions (although naturally it includes them), because comportment involves things I do or experience without an occurent mental state in which I intend to do it or register the experience. Thus, comportment includes automatic actions, for example, which reflect a responsiveness to the meaning of a situation (Wrathall 2008, pp. 345–46). Comportments can be subdivided into two types: authentic and inauthentic. An W. Majka. TRUTH AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL LANDSCAPE OF PERCEPTION 14 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA inauthentic comportment is most con- spicuously illustrated by the fact that our actions are based on an impersonal mode of being, which only means that comportments are not really ours in the sense of subjects; instead, they function as public ways of proceeding. What this means is that there really is no inner, or subjective, dimension of experience. Our identities or selfhoods exist in the actions that we perform and the things that we find ourselves using, but we are in no way entitled to look for a subject outside the context of being-in-the-world. Our being is in toto determined by and depends upon being-in-the-world. Therefore, to comport oneself authenti- cally does not mean to be a non-conformist, who happily announces to the world that “to be great is to be misunderstood” (Emer- son 1981, p. 146), or who warns us that “[s]ociety everywhere is in conspiracy against the manhood of every one of its members” (ibid., p. 141). To be authentic means to bracket the world and to question the existential modes of being. It also means that we have to take responsibility for our being and yet still remember that who we are and what we do is nothing more than a borrowing from the public existential para- digms which we find already operating and in which we, as the particular individuals that we are, are absorbed. Thus, there is no subject outside the object; there is only our social way of being—that we have called being-in-the-world—which obliges us, at the same time, to be with one another. The ontic dimension of truth which is uncovered in our practical involvement (as manifested in transparent coping) does not completely reject consciousness as a dimension of the human experience. It simply prevents reductionism, which sees consciousness as the epistemological landscape that enframes the fullness of our experience of the world. Yet consciousness as a mode of experience does not exist un- der a thingly aspect; rather, consciousness is attentive as Merleau-Ponty has it, and it determines and plays a very important role in our involvement in the world (2002, p. 31). Nevertheless, the view of conscio- usness from the perspective that we are proposing here is epiphenomenal. Thus, consciousness is secondary to being-in- -the-world. Of course, the epiphenomenal character of consciousness was already presupposed by psychology. For example, Jung sees consciousness as a being that emerges from complexes and unconscious archetypal content (1990, p. 42). Yet in the phenomenological sense consciousness is to be derived from our practical coping with things. Dreyfus observes that, “[w]hen there is a serious disturbance and even deliberate activity is blocked, Dasein is forced into still another stance, deliberation. This involves reflective planning. In deliberation one stops and considers what is going on and plans what to do, all in a context of involved activity” (1991, p. 72). It follows from the above that con- sciousness emerges as a side-effect of the breakdown of equipment and the com- portments that were said to accompany it. In other words, our basic way of being is transparent coping. Yet when a thing breaks, transparent coping is no longer possible, and we then become conscious, deliberate entities. To illustrate this, let us take as an example (following Dreyfus) the basic way in which we deal with an everyday object like the door. In usual circumstances we SPRENDIMAI 15 do not stand before the door as conscious subjects deliberating about how to open it, how to turn the doorknob, whether to pull or to push it, etc. This kind of action is performed automatically. It is only when we can’t get the door to open that it becomes an object of concern, since its functionality has broken down and together with it our comportment. In this way, consciousness comes to be seen as a mechanism or process that we employ to restore the functionality of things, and therefore, to reinstate the au- tomatic transparent coping which has been disrupted. To avoid being as pessimistic as Schopenhauer (R. Taylor 1985, p. 371), who believed that life is a mistake, we can, on this understanding, come to see subjec- tivity—the landscape of consciousness—as a mistake, since in itself it is the effect of the totality of breakdowns that we have experienced: not as subjects, of course, but as entities that find themselves living in the public world according to certain cultural and existential paradigms. On a more speculative note, we could come to see consciousness as nothing more than the memorization of breakdowns which we call concepts. The memori- zation of breakdowns accords well with Freud’s understanding of consciousness as developing from traumatic experiences which, because of their traumatism, were simply remembered (1995, pp. 607–608). The view that we are here advocating is that consciousness is nothing more than a conceptual amplification (memorization) of the failures of our transparent coping. Thus, there is no need to set the theoretical against the pragmatic; rather, we should see theory as the continuation of practice, if by practice we mean transparent coping. If we follow this thinking, we will free ourselves from all sorts of dualisms which speak of two alternative realities, one real, the other merely illusory. Alternatively, we will come to understand the forgetfulness of being that Heidegger spoke of (1996, p. 1). What he meant is that we as a culture have stopped questioning being in the ontological sense, instead accepting our place amongst the ontic beings already present in the world. From this point on onto-theology has tried to put human beings in the seat of sub- jectivity by assuming that human nature is dissociated from the world. Onto-theology has committed itself to the cult of power, whose purpose is to keep human beings in the centre of all experience. In this way onto-theology has tried to make human being the measure of all things. Thus, on- totheology can be read as a way of thinking that grounds the division of subjectivity and objectivity. Yet this can be considered as a simple mistake, since onto-theology erroneously assumes that the concepts which make it possible exist independently of reality, though as we have come to see, the concepts themselves are nothing more than the memorizations of breakdowns of our transparent coping. We can, therefore, abandon all dualistic forms of thinking and understand our experience as extending between transparent coping and conscious deliberation. Both of these modes of being are contextualised by the same existential landscape, and there is no need to see them as paths to two contraposed realities that can be experienced in two different ways. Rather, our being as being-in-the-world can be loosely compared to the phenomenon of culture, which is the ultimate context of all our comportments. Geertz, for example, W. Majka. TRUTH AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL LANDSCAPE OF PERCEPTION 16 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA maintains that, “[c]ulture is the fabric of meaning in terms of which human beings interpret their experience and guide their action” (1973, p. 145). The Landscapes of Language If we reject the onto-theological estimation of the notion of truth, then what status do we assign to language? In the conventional sense, language was the instrument at the disposal of a fixed consciousness that con- nected the subjective cogito with the pre- supposed objective existence of the world. Accepting truth as alētheia obliges us to bracket the subjective—objective division in favour of truth as the landscape of being- -in-the-world, where the world is the reality of language, since it is language that reveals it by opening up a certain locus where the world can be said to take place. In this light, we are obliged to agree with Derrida when he says that, “[t]here is nothing outside of the text [there is no outside text; il n’y a pas de hors-texte]” (1997, p. 158). What needs to be clear from the very start is that our understanding of language will be the poet’s understanding, not the linguist’s. We, therefore, reject the instru- mental view of language that sees it as nothing more than a tool in the hands of subjectivity, a tool most necessary for the phenomenon we might refer to as subjective imperialism. We have a rough representa- tion of this very phenomenon in the Bible where both God and Adam describe things in linguistic terms opening up in this way a new dimension for experience. The instrumental understanding of language, as observed by C. Taylor, can be found in thinkers like Locke, Descartes, Hobbes and Condillac, and it roughly amo- unts to the subject’s ability to use language as a tool for the classification of things and experiences (2008, p. 435). All that the subject has to do is link the word or idea to the thing or experience in question. What emerges in this light is a vision of the world as an atomistic organization of the classi- fications we have learnt to make. Needless to say, the instrumental view presupposes that the world is always and already there, waiting for the subject to divide it accor- ding to its scale of interests and concerns. Steiner presents us with an instrumental understanding of language when he makes the observation that: [t]he classic and the Christian sense of the world strive to order reality within the governance of language. Literature, philosophy, theology, law, the arts of history, are endeavours to enclose within the bounds of rational discourse the sum of human experience, its recorded past, its present condition and future expectations. The code of Justinian, the Summa of Acquinas, the world chronicles and compendia of medieval literature, the Divina Commedia, are attempts at total containment. They bear solemn witness to the belief that all truth and realness—with the exception of a small, queer margin at the very top—can be inside the walls of language (1998, pp. 13–14). Steiner’s assumption, therefore, is that reality stands in opposition to or outside linguistic experience. Against this line of reason we have the expressive-constitutive theory of language introduced by Herder —a member of the Sturm und Drang (C. Tay- lor 2008, p. 438). What this theory does is claim that language is much more than a referencing device, as is clearly the case in the instrumental view. Of course, no one is denying the fact that language expresses meanings in the sense that it offers descrip- tions of things and experiences; however, language also creates the landscapes within which the existence of things makes sense: SPRENDIMAI 17 For the speaker no less than for the listener, language is definitely something other than a technique for ciphering or deciphering ready- made significations. Before there can be such ready-made significations, language must first make significations exist as guideposts by establishing them at the intersection of linguistic gestures as that which, by common consent, the gestures reveal. Our analysis of thought gives us the impression that before it finds the words which express it, it is already a sort of ideal text that our sentences attempt to translate. But the author himself has no text to which he can compare his writing, and no language prior to language…. Language is much more like a sort of being than a means, and that is why it can present something to us so well (Merleau-Ponty 1964, pp. 42–43). At this point what we really need to do is perform a phenomenological epoche and bracket our view of language; what we sho- uld ask of ourselves is to come to grips with the type of spatiality that language makes possible. The instrumental view works with the typical Newtonian model which treats space as a container in which things, inclu- ding us, happen. From this perspective, we find ourselves existing within an objective reality that is antecedent to our being. The expressive-constitutive theory, on the other hand, states that space is not an objective phenomenon into which we are thrown and from which, with our demise, we are extracted. Language opens up the space of the in-between in the sense that it emerges from speech. In conversation, a certain kind of space is opened up which is neither subjective nor objective; it is the space of our mutual interests and concerns. Thus, what language opens up is this common space of the lived experience that we have earlier referred to as the world, which we have argued to be the effect of a cultural paradigm rather than the onto-theological supposition that holds reality to be some- thing independent of us. If language does open up a space of the in-between, and if the things that ap- pear in this space are predetermined by the disclosure of language, then we can clearly state that things do not exist as we have thought conventionally, i.e., in the sense of a collection of properties. The proper- ties that characterise a thing are not really the thing’s, but the language’s, since it is language which makes the thing possible. In other words, we always see reality from the perspective of the kind of language that shows it to us. In fact, we come to realize that there really is nothing like a thing in the sense of an object with a fixed configuration of properties. Language discloses things in the space of the in-between, which we will now call Geviert, i.e., the Fourfold as understood by Heidegger (C. Taylor 2008, p. 451). For the present purposes it is enough to see the Fourfold as the landscape of language. In itself it consists of mortals, divinities, the earth and the sky. These four elements are the fundamental contours of the horizon of meanings opened up by language, or to put it differently, the Fourfold is what language must produce for anything like disclosure to happen. Thus, what we have earlier referred to as a thing is really a pro- duct of the Fourfold, i.e., of the relations that obtain between mortals, divinities, the earth and the sky. To illustrate this, let us try to understand the notion of thingness and its relation to the Fourfold on the basis of a poem by Wallace Stevens: I placed a jar in Tennessee, And round it was, upon a hill. It made the slovenly wilderness Surround that hill. The wilderness rose up to it, And sprawled around, no longer wild. W. Majka. TRUTH AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL LANDSCAPE OF PERCEPTION 18 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA The jar was round upon the ground And tall and of a port in air. It took dominion every where. The jar was gray and bare. It did not give of bird or bush, Like nothing else in Tennessee. (Stevens 1998, p. 1151) We can try to understand the jar’s thing- ness by seeing it as nothing more than an effect of the configuration of and the rela- tions that hold between the four constitu- ents. First of all, the jar in its instrumental sense fits into the arena of human interests and concerns, in this way referring to the sphere of the mortals. At the same time, however, the jar can be much more than a mere instrument. It can have the idea of transcendence about itself, and therefore, it can be said to possess a moral or religious dimension—this being the jar’s relation to the divinities. Additionally, the jar must be made of something; the material which constitutes its nature is the earth which does not only refer to ground or soil, but rather it needs to be understood as unformed matter. Lastly, the notion of the sky roughly refers to our understanding of nature in both its creative as well as destructive senses. A creative view of nature can be found, for example, in the views of American transcendentalists who urge us to become transparent eyeballs and seek communion between man and natura naturata / natura naturans (Emerson 1981, p. 11). On the other hand, the destructive Darwinian view of nature is reflected in Stephen Crane’s short story The Open Boat, where we are told that “[s]hipwrecks are apropos of nothing” (1994, p. 790)—a metaphor that considers the meaning of existence which from this point of view is quite vain. Generally speaking, what we, following Heidegger, have called a thing is the effect of the relations that hold between the four constituents of the Fourfold. In other words, the thing appears in its instrumentality to mortals. Its transcendent nature is understood on the basis of the deities that exist within a cultural paradigm, the same applies to the earth as the material from which a thing is made; and lastly, the sky or nature is the idea which both preserves as well as threatens the jar’s being—it is the élan that allows it to be, but at the same time, it is the force that will one day annihilate it. Thus, the understanding of a thing depends on the understanding of nature within a given cultural paradigm and during a particular historical period. Conclusion We should abandon the view that holds that there exists some kind of theoretical “masterplan” to everyday reality. The Pla- tonic belief that theory is the refined status of practice is untrue; rather, it is quite the reverse. Prima facie, we are practical beings that cope with things on a transparent basis only to later discover that the breakdowns of practical involvement are the seeds sown on the soil of a new landscape that we call consciousness, which is connected with the instrumental application of language. Perhaps, if we take into consideration what was mentioned above about language and alētheia, we will finally be in a position to understand such mysterious sayings as language is “the house of being” (Heidegger 1971, p. 22), since it is from the perspective of language that we come to see the world. Taylor observes that “language, through its telos, dictates a certain mode of expression, a way of formulating matters which can help SPRENDIMAI 19 to restore thingness. It tells us what to say, dictates the poetic, or thinkerly word…” (2008, p. 451). Additionally, what emerges from this stance is the view that it is not we that speak, but language—and therefore, language is not a tool at the disposal of the subject, but rather, it creates the subject’s self-experience by bringing the Fourfold into being and allowing for things to appear as mattering in a certain historical way. References CRANE, S., [1897] 1994. The Open Boat. In: N. BAYM et al., eds. The Norton Anthology of American Literature (Vol. II). New York: W. W. Norton & Company. DERRIDA, J., [1967] 1997. Of Grammatology. Trans. G. C. SPIVAK. Baltimore: The John Hop- kins University Press. DESCARTES, R., [1637] 1969. Discourse on Method. In: M. D. WILSON, ed. The Essential Descartes. New York: A Mentor Book. DREYFUS, H., 1991. Being-in-the-World. Cambridge, MA: Massachusetts Institute of Technology. EMERSON, R. W., [1836] 1981. Nature. In: C. BODE and M. COWLEY, eds. The Portable Emerson, New York: Penguin Group. EMERSON, R. W., [1841] 1981. Self-Re- liance. In: C. BODE and M. COWLEY, eds. The Portable Emerson. New York: Penguin Books. FREUD, S., [1920] 1995. Beyond the Plea- sure Principle. In: P. GAY, ed. The Freud Reader. London: Vintage. GEERTZ, C., 1973. The Interpretation of Cultures. New York: Basic Books. HEIDEGGER, M., [1927] 1996. Being and Time. Trans. J. STAMBAUGH. Albany: State University of New York Press. HEIDEGGER, M., [1930] 1993. The Essence of Truth. In: D. F. KRELL, ed. Martin Heidegger: Basic Writings. Trans. D. F. KRELL. San Fran- cisco: Harper Publishers. HEIDEGGER, M., [1959] 1971. On the Way to Language. Trans. P. D. HERTZ. New York: Harper Collins Publishers. JUNG, C. G., [1959] 1990. The Archetypes and the Collective Unconscious. Princeton: Princeton University Press. MERLEAU-PONTY, M., [1960] 1964. Indirect Language and the Voices of Silence. In: J. WILD, ed. Signs. Trans. R. C. MCCLEARY. Evanston: Northwestern University Press. MERLEAU-PONTY, M., [1945] 2002. Phe- nomenology of Perception. Trans. C. SMITH. London: Routledge Classics. RYLE, G., [1949] 2001. Exorcizing Descartes’ “Ghost in the Machine.” In: L. P. POJMAN, ed. Classics of Philosophy: The Twentieth Century Tradition. Oxford: Oxford University Press. STEINER, G., [1967] 1998. Language and Silence. New Haven: Yale University Press. STEVENS, W., [1919] 1994. Anecdote of the Jar. In: N. BAYM et al., eds. The Norton Anthology of American Literature (Vol. II). New York: W. W. Norton & Company. TAYLOR, C., 2008. Heidegger on Language. In: H. DREYFUS and M. WRATHALL, eds. A Companion to Heidegger. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. TAYLOR, R., 1985. Schopenhauer. In: D. J. O’CONNOR, ed. A Critical History of We- stern Philosophy. New York: The Free Press. WRATHALL, M., 2008. Unconcealment. In: H. DREYFUS and M. WRATHALL, eds. A Companion to Heidegger. Malden: Blackwell Publishing. W. Majka. TRUTH AND THE PHENOMENOLOGICAL LANDSCAPE OF PERCEPTION 20 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA Wojciech Majka Uniwersytet Pedagogiczny w Krakowie, Polska Zainteresowania naukowe: historia literatury brytyjskiej, historia literatury amerykańskiej, fenomenologia w teorii literatury i studiach kul- turowych, psychologia a literatura, europejska tradycja intelektualna PRAWDA JAKO FENOMENOLOGICZ- NY PEJZAŻ PERCEPCJI Streszczenie W głównej mierze artykuł skupia się na przedsta- wieniu istoty prawdy (alatheia) rozumianej z per- spektywy typowo fenomenologicznej. Heidegger bowiem uważał, że istota prawdy nie powinna być ograniczana do rozumienia jej jako przynależności i zgodności, jak to tradycyjnie robiono. Innymi słowy, prawda nie powinna być ograniczona do odpowiednich lub też nieodpowiednich sposobów przedstawienia doświadczenia kognitywnego. W gruncie rzeczy pojęcie prawdy powinno być po- równywane z istotą percepcji, w której mamy do czynienia z tym, jak świat odsłania się w ludzkim doświadczeniu. Przyjęta perspektywa zawiesza przeciwstawność podmiotowości i przedmioto- wości, które stanowią podstawę myślenia metafi- zycznego już od czasów Platona. Inaczej mówiąc, podmiot nie jest zalążkiem doświadczenia, lecz biernym odbiorcą bycia-w-świecie – odnosząc się do terminologii Merleau-Ponty’ego – rozprze- strzeniającego się wokół niego. Fenomenologiczne ujęcie prawdy zobowiązuje nas jednocześnie do traktowania samej istoty języka w sposób nie sym- boliczny, to znaczy język nie tyle biernie odzwier- ciedla rzeczywistość, co poprzez wyistaczanie słowa odsłania cały świat. Inaczej rzecz ujmując, język nie stanowi jedynie abstrakcyjnego systemu znaków, opartego na relacji znaczonego i znaczą- cego (jak u Saussure’a), ale jest ontologicznym punktem wyjścia, z którego postrzegamy świat i nasze istnienie w świecie. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: Merleau-Ponty, Hei- degger, język, odsłonięcie, prawda, zgodność, parousia, wolność, istota, percepcja, idea. Wojciech Majka Pedagoginis Krokuvos universitetas, Lenkija Moksliniai interesai: britų literatūros istorija, amerikiečių literatūros istorija, literatūros ir kultūros studijų fenomenologija, psichologija ir literatūra, intelektualinės Europos tradicijos TIESA IR FENOMENOLOGINIS SUVOKI- MAS Santrauka Straipsnio tikslas yra pateikti fenomenologinį tiesos idėjos (alētheia) supratimą. Pasak M. Hei- deggerio, tiesa nėra apribota tradiciniu tiesos per- teikimu, tokiu kaip koherentiškumas ar analogija. Kitaip tariant, tiesa nėra ribojama tinkamomis arba netinkamomis tam tikro kognityviosios patirties aspekto reprezentacijos formomis. Tiesa artimesnė suvokimo sąvokai, kalbančiai apie bendrąjį kelią, kur pasaulis yra atviras žmogaus supratimui. Žinoma, toks požiūris reikalauja suskliausti sub jekto-objekto padalijimą, kuris nuo Platono lai- kų yra už tradicinio metafizinio mąstymo ribų. Ki- taip tariant, objektas nėra patirties atspirties taškas, bet gana pasyvus Pasaulio–Būties tipo recipientas. Fenomenologinis tiesos supratimo aiškinimas mus įpareigoja taip pat pažvelgti į kalbą ne reprezen- tatyviąja prasme, bet greičiau kaip į esminį būties žodyną, per kurį atsiskleidžiamas pasaulis. Kitaip tariant, kalba yra ne tik abstrakti ženklų sistema, pagrįsta F. de Saussure’o signifikatu–signifikantu. Tai yra ontologinė pozicija, iš kurios taško mes suvokiame pasaulį ir mūsų egzistavimą jame. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: Merleau-Ponty, Heideggeris, kalba, atskleidimas, tiesa, atitikimas, laisvė, esmė, suvokimas, idėja. Gauta 2012 05 20 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 SPRENDIMAI 21 Элеонора Лассан Вильнюсский университет Universiteto g. 5, LT-01513 Vilnius, Lietuva Тел.:+370 5 271 11 12 E-mail: eleonora.lassan@flf.vu.lt Область научных интересов автора: политическая лингвистика, когнитивная лин- гвистика, риторика, прагматика, семантика КУЛЬТУРНЫЕ СЦЕНАРИИ МЫШЛЕНИЯ И ЭТИКЕТНЫЕ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ЖАНРЫ (ОБ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ПОЗДРАВЛЕНИЯХ В ЧЕТЫРЕХ КУЛЬТУРАХ) Предметом анализа в данной статье являются интернет-поздравления как явление глобализирующейся культуры, с одной стороны, и как феномен современного фольклор- ного жанра, с другой. На примере анализа интернет-поздравлений русской, немецкой, польской и литовской культур автор показывает отличительные черты «минима- листского» жанра, который в силу своей краткости должен в концентрированной форме продемонстрировать особенности национально-культурного типа мышления, если они существуют. Автор приходит к выводу, что существуют настолько значи- тельные различия как в композиции поздравлений, так и в способе представленности субъекта поздравления, набора объектов пожелания, что носителю другой культуры весьма трудно освоить инокультурные сценарии дискурсивного поведения в рамках названного жанра. КЛЮЧЕВЫЕ СЛОВА: речевые жанры, культурные сценарии, интернет-продукция, композиция, ключевые концепты Столь распространенное явление, как «изготовление» поздравлений и их бы- тование в Сети приводит и к новому объекту исследовательских интересов, формулируемому как жанр поздрав- лений: «Гипержанр «поздравление» составляют такие жанры как поздрави- тельная открытка, валентинка, поздра- вительная записка, поздравительный альбом, поздравительный плакат и др. «Поздравление» как разновидность естественной письменной русской речи представляет собой многоплановый объект, который может быть исследован в различных аспектах, одним из которых является лингвокультурологический... а также рассмотрение особенностей жанра как явления народной культуры» (Сухотерина 2007: http://www.dslib.net/ russkij-jazyk/suhoterina.html). Автор интересной, и как представля- ется, пионерской работы Т. П. Сухоте- рина относит поздравления к явлениям народной культуры на том основании, что они являются одним из проявлений «живой разговорной устной и письмен- ной речи» (Сухотерина 2007). Добавлю: сегодня интернет-поздравления могут с полным основанием быть отнесены к «народной культуре» и на том осно- 22 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA вании, что их тексты творятся не про- фессионалами, а очень широким слоем носителей языка и культуры. Поводом для поздравления становятся события, существующие в жизни каждого чело- века, независимо от его социального статуса, возраста, пола - отсюда столь широк круг творцов и потребителей по- здравительного жанра. Такая востребо- ванность и продуктивность этого жанра делают его, соответственно, и объектом научных интересов лингвистов. Так, С. В. Шаталова относит поздравления к современным эпидейктическим жан- рам речи: «Эпидейктическая речь – это речь показательная, обращенная к вне- языковой действительности, дающая представление о морали и антиморали, в основе которой лежит ритуал и правила речевого этикета. Результаты когни- тивного анализа, полученные методом направленного ассоциативного экспе- римента ... свидетельствуют, что сов- ременная эпидейктика, представленная жанром поздравления, следует общим традициям: поздравление должно со- гласовываться с праздником и включать пожелание здоровья; поздравляя, адре- сант должен быть искренним, должен проявить индивидуальность, сделать поздравление запоминающимся; доста- вить адресату радость, вызвать эмоци- ональную реакцию» (Шаталова 2009). Думается, что подобная характеристика присуща поздравлениям различных культур, но вот сами поздравления при их клишированности или стремлению к оригинальности, «красивости» могут дать ценный материал, с одной сторо- ны, небезынтересный в прикладных целях обучения иностранным языкам, с другой – позволяющий судить о том, как и какие ценности культуры (морали и антиморали), ее ключевые понятия отражаются в этом жанре. Сразу нужно оговориться, что отсутствие эксплици- рованного автора текстов в интернет-по- здравлениях, их переходы с сайта на сайт, ориентация на широкий круг адресатов и широкий круг потребителей, избирающих предлагаемый текст на основе вкусовых предпочтений, делает этот жанр дейст- вительно очень близким фольклорным благопожеланиям. [«Тексты Благопоже- ланий очень сходны в разных славянских традициях, главным образом благодаря единству основных их структурных типов. Среди них побудительные формулы со словом “пусть” (“Пусть у вас будет пол- ная кошара овец”), пожелания, вводимые союзом “чтобы” (“Чтобы сваты и свахи не выходили из хаты!”), и императивные фор- мулы (“Будь здоров, как вода, расти, как верба”)» (Агапкина, Виноградов 1994, с. 169)]. Сказанное позволяет современным лингвистам характеризовать интернет- поздравления как «жанр постфольклора» (Власова 2009, с. 302). Устанавливая тематическую общность поздравлений, композиционное единство актов пись- менных поздравлений и клишированные речевые формулы, мы действительно можем говорить о существовании целост- ного жанра. Однако близость к фольклору побуждает размышлять о сложности этого жанра – одновременно как устного, так и письменного творчества. К какого рода жанрам – первичным или вторичным – относится поздравление? «Крайнюю разнородность речевых жанров и связан- ную с этим трудность определения общей природы высказывания никак не следует SPRENDIMAI 23 преуменьшать. Особенно важно обратить здесь внимание на очень существенное различие между первичными (простыми) и вторичными (сложными) речевыми жан- рами (это не функциональное различие). Вторичные (сложные) речевые жанры – романы, драмы, научные исследования всякого рода, большие публицистические жанры и т. п. – возникают в условиях более сложного и относительно высоко- развитого и организованного культурного общения (преимущественно письменно- го): художественного, научного, общест- венно-политического и т. п. В процессе своего формирования они вбирают в себя и перерабатывают различные первичные (простые) жанры, сложившиеся в услови- ях непосредственного речевого общения. Эти первичные жанры, входящие в состав сложных, трансформируются в них и при- обретают особый характер: утрачивают непосредственное отношение к реальной действительности и к реальным чужим высказываниям» (Бахтин 1996, с. 159). Естественно, поздравление есть первич- ный речевой жанр, так как он представ- ляет собой явление устной речи, элемент речевого этикета: Поздравляю с днем рождения. Желаю... (например, поздрав- ление по телефону). С другой стороны, поздравление есть и письменный жанр, ведущий свое происхождение в русской культуре, как отмечает Г. И. Власова, со времен Феофана Прокоповича. Он сам по себе может стать сложным жанром, включая интертекстуальные отсылки к другим текстам: Итак, она звалась Светлана. Умом и красотой своей, Она затмила бы Татьяну – Став героиней наших дней. Сложность этого жанра побуждает внимательно всмотреться в характери- стические признаки жанра как такового: тематическую наполненность, компо- зицию, языковое исполнение (Бахтин 1996, с. 159). «Поздравление приобрело “твердые формы”: при стереотипной тематике оно имеет жесткую структуру (обращение, поздравление по поводу, пожелания, подпись) и набор клиширо- ванных языковых средств. Задачей гово- рящего обычно представляется создание вариаций известного образца, а свер- хзадачей – импровизации на заданную тему с использованием набора условных риторических приемов (гипербола, ан- титеза, метафора и др.) и традиционных языковых средств» (Карпова 2002, с. 63). Нужно сказать, что стихотворные интернет-поздравления нарушают эту структуру, и, что особенно важно, она может не быть единой для разных лин- гвокультур (что и будет показано ниже). В силу сложности определения жанра поздравлений, являющегося синтезом первичного жанра как явления непосред- ственного общения и жанра риториче- ского, письменного, автор предпочитает говорить о речевом акте поздравления, который можно определить так: эти- кетный речевой акт напоминания адресанта о себе и о своем хорошем отношении к адресату, переживающе- му знаменательное событие, радость от которого разделяет и адресант. Значение имеет не столько текст (локу- ция), сколько подтверждение того, что знакомые и близкие помнят о знамена- тельном для человека дне, хотят сделать для него приятное и свидетельствуют об этом актом поздравления и пожеланий. Э. Лассан. КУЛЬТУРНЫЕ СЦЕНАРИИ МЫШЛЕНИЯ И ЭТИКЕТНЫЕ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ЖАНРЫ 24 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA Вместе с тем строки могут запоминаться, адресат может находить в них отражение его интересов, пожелание может стать «компасом», выполняющим функцию жизненной ориентации адресата. Внимание автора этой статьи сосре- доточено на текстах поздравительных открыток и текстах, предлагаемых в качестве «готовых» для отправки адресатам – виновникам торжества, помещенных на русских (www.pozdrav. ru/hb.shtml, www.stost.ru/cat/h-16html), немецких (http://www.festgestaltung. de/geburtstag/gratulation/kurz/), поль- ских (zokazji.pl) и литовских (http:// www.cards.lt/sveikinimu-kategorija/3/1/ gimtadieniai) сайтах. Автор полагает, что при унификации поздравительного речевого акта в самих текстах поздрав- лений должны отражаться в концентри- рованной форме (в силу их краткости) культурные сценарии, с одной стороны, обусловливающие форму и языковое исполнение поздравления, а с другой – позволяющие, возможно, увидеть более глубокие пласты культуры, вызвавшие к жизни эти сценарии. Итак, приступим к рассмотрению стихотворных текстов русской интернет- культуры на фоне аналогичных текстов немецкой, польской и литовской интер- нет-продукции. Приведем совершенно простенькое поздравление: Тебе, любимая, родная, Здоровья, счастья мы желаем. Позволь в строках стихотворенья В любви большой к тебе признаться! Мы поздравляем с днем рожденья! Душе твоей всегда семнадцать! В этом небольшом тексте отражены многие типичные элементы русских поздравлений. Отметим вначале такую особенность композиции, как обозначе- ние субъекта поздравления в начальных строках (мы желаем). Это – характерная черта русских поздравительных текстов: Я тебя от души поздравляю (первая строка); С днем рожденья поздравляю // И от всей души желаю…(первые строки). Субъект обозначен или личным местоимением, или глаголом в форме первого лица, указывающей на наличие конкретного субъекта, идентифици- руемого по подписи. Интересно, что в немецких и польских поздравлениях эта особенность композиции так ярко не выражена (см. ниже). Далее обратим внимание на обращение родная, также достаточно употребительное в русских поздравлениях: И пусть будет жизнь твоя, родная...; С днем рожденья тебя, родная!; Счастлив будь, родной чело- век! и т.п. Нужно сказать, что в русском языке весьма частотными являются словосочетания с этим словом, относя- щиеся к сфере явлений, составляющих некий ценностный фонд нации: родная земля, родной язык, родная культура, «родная партия». Выражение родной и любимый побуждает различать содержа- ния стоящих за этими словам понятий следующим образом: родной – ставший своим, принадлежащий к своему кругу. Любимый – тот, на кого обращено чув- ство любви. Для того чтобы именоваться родным, нужна большая степень близо- сти, длительное нахождение рядом, при- надлежность или ощущение принадлеж- ности к одному роду, к одной «крови», говоря словами героев Киплинга (ср. по словарю Ефремовой: 1. Находящийся в кровном родстве по прямой линии. 2. (переносн.) Свой, близкий по духу и привычкам). Синонимом к слову родной SPRENDIMAI 25 в словаре синонимов русского языка приводится и слово кровный. Возможно, употребление этого слова по отношению к людям, осознаваемым как близкие, есть проявление древнейшей универсальной оппозиции культуры «свой – чужой», которая реализуется и в русских поздрав- лениях. Говоря о ценностях, отметим такие, как з д о р о в ь е и с ч а с т ь е (сча- стье – понятие неопределенное, видимо, существующее автономно от здоровья). К числу ценностей, несомненно, отно- сится л ю б о в ь – это слово весьма часто встречается в поздравительных текстах: И чтобы жизнь одаривала всем: здоро- вьем, счастьем, дружбой и любовью; Ты – мой лучик солнца и цветочек не- жный. И любовь, и вера, и моя надежда!; В сей день сбываются мечты, любви Вам, радости, весны!; Мы тебя любим. С этой мыслью прими наш дар тебе, юнец! Хотелось бы обратить внимание на то обстоятельство, что, говоря о любви, адресант говорит о своем чувстве к по- здравляемому, то есть говорит о себе. И это самовыражение еще раз акцентирует его фигуру. Таким образом, в поздрави- тельных русских текстах очень сущест- венно присутствие говорящего. Отметим еще один характерный элемент русских пожеланий: имплицитно выражена ценность м о л о д о с т и : душе твоей всегда семнадцать. Видимо, имеет место противопоставление биологического и психологического возраста. Приведем небольшой фрагмент следующего поздравления, в котором читатель увидит уже отмеченные выше моменты (выражение субъекта поздрав- ления в первых строках, молодость как ценность): Я тебя от души поздравляю. Юность сердца храни для людей. Нежным взглядом своим освещая, Атмосферой душевной согрей! Мы отметим здесь выражение от души, являющее ся производным от имени концепта душа, ключевого для русской культуры, где душа мыслится как сосуд, вмещающий чувства и порывы страстей. Внимание автора обратил на себя еще один момент поздравлений: повелительное наклонение глагола, вы- ражающее побуждение адресата к опре- деленной модели поведения. Побужде- ние обычно выражает тот, кто знает, что имеет на это право. Давать жизненные советы, соответственно, может только тот, кто считает себя более сведущим, кто ощущает свой более высокий эписте- мический статус: Люби веселые гулянки, люби прогулки под луной; Не грусти и накрывай поляну, и друзей хороших созывай!; И помни, что года идут, так проживи как можно лучше! Таким обра- зом, говорящий еще раз напоминает не только о себе, но о себе как опытном и знающем, как жить, человеке. Позволю себе назвать такой характер поздравле- ния, где неоднократно подчеркивается фигура говорящего, Я-поздравлением, ориентированным не только на адресата, но и на самого адресанта. С днем рожденья тебя поздравляю, Ты прочти поздравленья мои, От души всей тебе я желаю В жизни счастья, добра и любви! Жизнь несет тебе радость и счастье, Пусть они не пройдут без следа, Пусть твою красоту, твою нежность Не изменят года никогда! Как видим, и это поздравление со- держит все те же элементы: субъект поздравления, означенный в начале Э. Лассан. КУЛЬТУРНЫЕ СЦЕНАРИИ МЫШЛЕНИЯ И ЭТИКЕТНЫЕ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ЖАНРЫ 26 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA текста, ценности счастья, любви, вечной молодости. Но в этом тексте мы наблю- даем еще одну очень характерную черту русских поздравлений – выражение пожелания посредством повелительного наклонения с частицей пусть. Здесь по- буждение направлено не на адресата, а на некую безличную силу, которая может исполнить пожелание: Пусть не будет у тебя ненастья, только радость, только солнца свет; Пусть каждый день твой будет светлым; В морозы и в ненастье пусть расцветает счастье! При этом пожелания отличаются таким безудер- жным оптимизмом, словно их авторы не знают о том, что жизнь несет не только радость: Пусть счастье Вас не покида- ет, здоровье пусть не убывает; Пусть дни вашей жизни текут безмятежно, пусть счастье сверкает, как солнечный луч; Пусть звезды светятся в глазах твоих, пусть счастье, как шампанское, искрится. Этот мотив – мотив ничем не омраченного и вечного счастья – присут- ствует во многих пожеланиях. Трудно сказать, как назвать такую безудер- жную установку адресантов на вечное счастье – может быть, «опустошенным клишированным дискурсом»? Ведь сам субъект поздравления вряд ли мог адре- совать такое себе, поскольку человек прекрасно осознает нереальность по- добных пожеланий. Впрочем, есть один жанр, в котором Я может желать себе та- кое – это фольклорный жанр заклинаний, пользующийся также частицей пусть. Пусть мои силы будут благословенны (заклинание, умножающее силы в три раза); Пусть перервется вечный сон, Пусть недуг уходит вон (заклинание, чтобы пробудить кого-либо); Пусть правда будет сказана, А наша жизнь повернется вспять, То, что может быть пересказано, Пусть к нам вернет- ся опять (заклинание для оживления воспоминаний) (http://magichistory.ucoz. ru/forum/65-265-1). Осмелюсь выска- зать мысль, что пожелания в русских стихотворных текстах напоминают ма- гические заклинания. Если бы субъект поздравления адресовал эти пожелания себе, то они бы и носили характер за- клинания: Пусть сила растет моя день ото дня, пусть сила моя не покинет меня (заклинание на счастье). Сказанное позволяет, с одной стороны, подтвердить идею близости интернет-поздравлений к фольклорным жанрам, а с другой – уви- деть в них отражение той неактивности носителей русской культуры, которая побуждает их видеть источник исполне- ния пожеланий не в человеке-деятеле, а в некоей могущественной и безличной силе (вспомним тезис А. Вежбицкой об иррациональности русской культуры). Итак, на данном этапе анализа мы выделили такие черты русских интер- нет-поздравлений ко дню рождения, как ориентированность на говорящего (Я-поздравления), акцентуация сча- стья, здоровья, любви, молодости как основных объектов пожелания, закли- нательный характер поздравлений. Перейдем к рассмотрению немецких поздравительных интернет-текстов, на фоне которых, вполне возможно, откро- ются и иные черты русской культуры, незаметные ее носителю при отсутствии сравнения с другими культурно обуслов- ленными сценариями мышления. Heute ist ein besonderer Tag für Sie. Ein Tag an dem man gerne das vergangene Jahr Revue SPRENDIMAI 27 passieren lässt, sich fragt, ob alles so gekommen ist, wie man dachte oder ob man Entscheidungen wieder genau so treffen würde. Vor allem ist es aber ein Tag der Freude. Wir gratulieren Ihnen besonders herzlich zu Ihrem Geburtstag! Und wir wünschen Ihnen neben viel Glück und vor allem Gesundheit, dass Sie das richtige Händchen haben und heute in einem Jahr sagen können, alles richtig gemacht zu haben. Aber jetzt gehört dieser Tag erst einmal ganz allein Ihnen und Ihrer Familie.1 В этом поздравительном тексте, хоть и не стихотворном, отразились многие чер- ты немецких поздравлений. Укажем на них. Прежде всего отметим, что русские пожелания от души замещаются немец- кими «сердечными» herzlich. Меняются и акценты в поздравлениях: бросается в глаза то, что внимание фокусируется пре- жде всего на самом дне рождения: Heute ist ein besonderer Tag für Sie; Heut feiern wir Deinen Runden, Geburtstag ist ganz ohne Frage der schönste aller Ehrentage. При этом пожелания адресованы не бу- дущему, как это имеет место в русских текстах, а настоящему – тому, как дол- жен быть проведен этот день: это день радости (Vor allem ist es aber ein Tag der Freudе), когда желательно наслаждаться, смеяться и танцевать до ночи (Genießen die schöne Stunden Wolln’ lachen und auch tanzen; Wolln’ tanzen und singen bis in die Nacht). Немецкий адресант склонен об- 1 Сегодня у Вас особенный день. День, когда прошедший год охотно проходит перед Вашим взо- ром, чтобы Вы могли спросить себя, все ли было так, как Вы задумывали, приняли бы Вы снова те же решения. Но прежде всего сегодня день радости. Мы поздравляем Вас особенно сердечно с Вашим днем рождения. И желаем, наряду со счастьем и пре- жде всего здоровьем, чтобы через год в этот день вы смогли сказать себе, что сделали все правильно. Но сегодня этот день принадлежит только Вам и Вашей семье (перевод авт.). ращаться к прошлому и желать адресату того, чтобы при анализе совершенных действий юбиляр мог убедиться в их пра- вильности: Ein Tag an dem man gerne das vergangene Jahr Revue passieren lässt, sich fragt, ob alles so gekommen ist, wie man dachte oder ob man Entscheidungen wieder genau so treffen würde. Субъект текста часто оглядывается назад: Ein neues Jahr steht vor der Tür, das alte lässt Du hinter Dir Schlechte Gedanken vertreiben wir, nur Gute Dinge bleiben hier – Новый год стоит у дверей, старый ты оставляешь позади, и вместе с этим мы прогоним плохие мысли (новым годом именуется следующий год жизни юбиляра). Такое построение текста заставляет думать об отношении ко времени в немецкой и русской культурах. Немецкая культура относится обычно к монохронной (Г. Хофстеде): время линейно, и определен- ный отрезок времени посвящен одному виду деятельности, он не прерывается другими действиями (например, не стоит пить кофе, пока ты не закончил работу). Возможно, монохронно сть определяет то, что носители культуры сосредоточены в большей степени на на- стоящем моменте деятельности, а не на будущем, который планировать труднее. Когда говорят об отношении ко времени с точки зрения того, куда устремлены взоры носителей культуры – в будущее или прошлое, обычно не находят значи- тельных расхождений между немецкой и русской культурами. И все-таки думает- ся, разница есть. Если судить по анали- зируемым текстам, то носители русской культуры в большей степени устремле- ны в будущее, носители немецкой – в настоящее и даже в прошлое: в текстах Э. Лассан. КУЛЬТУРНЫЕ СЦЕНАРИИ МЫШЛЕНИЯ И ЭТИКЕТНЫЕ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ЖАНРЫ 28 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA нередки упоминания о том, что прошло (Auf viele Jahre blickst du nun zurück, auf manche Sorgen, manches Glück; Denkst du ___ Jahr zurück), и достаточно часто встречается слово zurück – ‘назад’. Впер- вые эта мысль показалась автору статьи возможной, когда он сравнил выражение побуждения к несовершению действия в русском и немецком языках. Не стирай с доски и Laβ alles an der Tafel stehen – эти фразы различаются тем, что в русском языке запрещается возможное будущее действие, а в немецком предлагается оставить положение таким, каким оно является на данный момент: Оставьте все на доске. Не открывайте книг – по- немецки: Оставьте книги закрытыми (Laβt die Bücher geschlossen); Не бери книгу со стола – Оставь книгу лежать на столе. Тезис о различной направ- ленности культур в отношении времени здесь высказывается только в качестве гипотезы, однако мне представляется, что и грамматические категории (рус- ский совершенный вид, не имеющий настоящего времени), и лексическое наполнение текстов находятся в отноше- нии корреляции друг к другу. Более того, дерзну предположить, что это связано и с интерпретациями мира в русской и немецкой мысли. Н. Бердяев писал о том, что эсхатологичекая идея, ожидание Царства Божия, конца мира неправды гораздо сильнее в русском христианстве, чем в западном (Бердяев 2008, с. 195). Сказанное позволяет предположить, что носители русской культуры смотрят именно в будущее, ожидая от его при- хода того, что сегодня для счастья у них отсутствует. Что же касается немецкой культуры, то здесь хотелось бы в качест- ве подтверждения высказанного предпо- ложения о сосредоточенности немецкой культуры на настоящем привести мысль Ф. Ницше: «Истинный мир не может быть изменчивым и становящимся, а только сущим» (Ницше 1994, с. 69). Ценности, реализуемые в немецких пожеланиях, в целом не отличаются от русских, это л ю б о в ь , з д о р о в ь е , с ч а с т ь е , м о л о д о с т ь . Внимания за- служивают пожелания, связанные с правильным счастьем: Ich wünsche dir das rechte Glück (Я желаю тебе правиль- ного счастья). Что входит в правильное счастье? Учиться у времени (буквально: складывать у затылка мгновения – pack beim Genick den Augenblick), иметь муже- ство и размах. Как представляется, в не- мецких пожеланиях акцентируется дей- ствие, деятельность – gemeinsam/ Tun und lassen/ Sachen machen/ Was Dir gefällt/ Auf dieser Welt (Вместе действовать и иметь возможность делать то, что нравится тебе в этом мире); Und nun mit frischem, frohem Mute ins neue Lebensjahr – hinein! (С новым, свежим мужеством – в новый год жизни!). Побуждения в немецких текстах существуют, но это не столько побуждения к определенным действиям (как это было с русскими пожеланиями в форме повелительного наклонения: делай то-то и то-то), сколько призыв иметь позитивное состояние духа и стре- миться вперед. Можно сказать, что они в меньшей степени напоминают поучения, и говорящий не выступает более опыт- ным и знающим, нежели адресат. Die Jahre sind vorbei, nicht alle waren sorgenfrei. Doch mit Lebensmut und Kraft hast du alles gut geschafft! SPRENDIMAI 29 Здесь нет того, что выше мы назвали безудержным заклинанием счастья, по- желания вполне реальны, они связаны с деятельностью самого адресата: в приведенном выше поздравительном тексте говорится о том, что прошедшие годы не были беззаботными, но все, что создано с жизненным мужеством и си- лой, создано хорошо. В русских текстах не встретилось упоминания о мужестве: возможно, концепт Mut специфичен для немецкой культуры (вспомним выра- жение Гегеля: «Мужество правды есть обязанность философских штудий» – Der Mut der Wahrheit ist die erste Bedingung des philosophischen Studiums), возможно, это слово не является точным эквивален- том русского мужества. (В немецкой Википедии есть замечание о том, что в современной словарной сокровищнице немецкого языка это слово занимает позицию слова оптимизм.) На данном этапе мы ограничимся констатацией встречаемости этого слова в поздрави- тельных текстах, слова, которое означает внутреннее состояние человека-деятеля, а носителям другой культуры напоми- нает о воинственном германском духе. Сказанное совершенно органично соче- тается с многочисленными пассажами в научной литературе, посвященными активности носителей англосаксонской культуры и пассивности носителей рус- ской. Интернет-поздравления как явле- ние современного фольклора показыва- ют, как проявляется эта черта культуры в анализируемом жанре. Из различий в композиции поздра- вительных открыток можно отметить, что само слово gratulieren – ‘поздравля- ем’ в стихотворных текстах находится, как правило, в заключительной части, равно как и обозначение субъекта по- здравления не всегда имеет место в начале текста. Субъект поздравления обозначает себя в немецких текстах, однако, как показывает беглый обзор немецких сайтов, делает это гораздо реже, чем русский адресант. Так, на сайте “Glückwünsche Geburtstag – kurz” (http://www.festgestaltung.de/geburtstag/ gratulation/kurz/#ich_gratuliere_und_ich_ freu_mich_sehr) читателю предлагается около 50 поздравительных текстов – из них только в пятнадцати слово Ich встре- чается в первых строках стихотворений. На российском сайте Grant-Vip.ru (http:// grant-vip.ru/text/den_rojdenya/) из 90 представленных текстов поздравлений (именно поздравлений, а не пожеланий) 51 послание содержит в первых двух строках слова я/мы. Таким образом, мы можем сказать, что принципиальное отличие немецких поздравлений от рус- ских заключается в сосредоточенности на самом дне рождения, с празднова- нием которого и связаны пожелания. Если пожелания касаются будущего (прежде всего это следующий год жиз- ни), то они адресованы не безличной силе, а человеку-деятелю, которому желают мужества и силы, для того чтобы исполнить задуманное и через год с удовлетворением осознать, что все было сделано правильно. Вряд ли немецкие интернет-поздравления можно отнести к Я-поздравлениям – все-таки говорящий в меньшей степени обознача- ет себя, чем это делает русский адресант. Возможно, анализ немецких поздрав- лений позволяет подтвердить мысль о германском практицизме, сосредото- Э. Лассан. КУЛЬТУРНЫЕ СЦЕНАРИИ МЫШЛЕНИЯ И ЭТИКЕТНЫЕ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ЖАНРЫ 30 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA ченности на переживаемом моменте как черте национального характера, противопоставляемой в историографии славянской веселости и легкомыслию (Лескинен 2011, с. 217–218). Перейдем к краткому обзору польских интернет- поздравлений с днем рождения и имени- нами. Польский национальный характер противопоставляется в историографии как германскому (отмечено выше), так и русскому национальному характеру. Не будем вдаваться в очень обширную и проблемную историографическую лите- ратуру, но отметим, что в ней сложился образ «веселого поляка», для которого характерны как страстность, пылкость, веселость, любовь к удовольствиям, восторженность, воодушевленность, так и увлеченность, порывы, непостоянство (Лескинен 2011, с. 222). Посмотрим, можно ли говорить об отражении этих черт в интернет-поздравлениях. Droga dorosłego życia. Niech będzie bez wielkiego picia. By marzenia się spełniały. I z kacem nie odpływały. By rodzice oparcie w Tobie mieli. Bo wiesz jak bardzo Ciebie pragnęli. Ty ucz się byś doszedł do celu. Nie zboczył jak robi zbyt wielu.2 (Пожелания по случаю восемнадцатилетия) Интересно, что в первых строках существует предупреждение относи- тельно опасности алкоголя – жизнь 2 Дорога взрослой жизни. Пусть будет без большого питья. Чтобы мечты осуществлялись. И с похмельем не отплывали. Чтобы родители опору в Тебе имели. Потому что Ты знаешь, как страстно Тебя хотели. Ты учись, чтобы дойти до цели. Не сбиться с пути, как делают слишком многие. должна пройти без «большого питья», и похмелье не должно унести мечты. Трудно представить себе подобное по- желание в русских поздравлениях, хотя намеки на опасность пития существуют (например, пожелания не упасть лицом в салат). Это не единичный случай говорения в поздравлениях о «питии» с использованием слова kieliszеk (рюмка): Rośnij duża, dzielna, zdrowa. Nie zaglądaj do kieliszka (Не заглядывай в рюмку) – пожелание женщине(!); Urodziny to jak wypicie kolejnego kieliszka... Lepiej się czujesz, gdy nie liczysz ile ich już masz na swoim koncie (День рождения как выпивание очередной рюмки… Лучше себя чувствуешь, когда их не счита- ешь). Возможно, напоминание об этом моменте празднования коррелирует с представлением о бесшабашности и лег- комыслии польского характера, отмечае- мого историографами. С другой стороны, такие пожелания могут позволить себе только близкие люди, осведомленные об опасностях, подстерегающих адресата. В поздравлениях создается атмосфера некоей фамильярности, семейственной близости, в общем-то, не требующей изысканных этикетных форм – так ощу- щает тональность этих поздравлений носитель русской культуры (автор гово- рит о своих ощущениях и ощущениях своих коллег, познакомившихся на этапе написания статьи с анализируемыми текстами). Можно сказать, что и любовь к удовольствиям находит свой коррелят в частых пожеланиях, включающих слово сладкий: słodziutka jak szarlotka, Niech życie słodko płynie . Dużo zdrówka i miłości, moc uśmiechu i słodkości. Дума- ется, что в русских пожеланиях вряд ли SPRENDIMAI 31 возможно такое, как будь сладкой, как шарлотка. Отметим, что и в польских пожеланиях мы не нашли побуждений- поучений, служащих усилению фигуры говорящего, что сближает польские тексты с немецкими И еще одно слово встречается в поль- ских поздравлениях, отличаясь по часто- те употребления от русских, это слово улыбка: moc uśmiechu, dużo uśmiechu, uśmiech stale miej na twarzy (пусть всегда на лице будет улыбка), śmiej się dużo (много смейся), dużo uśmiechów, dużo radości. Конечно, и в русских текстах желают улыбок, но «польские улыбки» отличаются количеством и си- лой. Пожелание улыбок можно назвать клишированным элементом польских стихотворных интернет-поздравлений. Столь же клишированными элементами пожеланий являются высказывания со словом мечта (marzenie). Мечты долж- ны исполняться, нужно найти таких друзей, о которых мечтаешь, и наиболее частым местом является пожелание, чтобы исполнились самые потаенные мечты: By marzenia się spełniały; Życzę Ci znalezienia takiej pracy, takich przyjaciół i takich możliwości, o jakich marzysz; Pomyślności i zdrowia, by realizować marzenia; Spełnienia marzeń; spelnienia wszystkich najskrytszych marzen. Значит ли это, что поляки – народ, склонный к мечтательности? Русские тоже желают исполнения мечты, но в качестве объекта мечты вряд ли выступают друзья или возможности. Думается, что существуют некоторые различия между русской меч- той и польским словом marzenie. Поль- ская мечта, как представляется, (если опираться на словарные толкования), энергичнее русской мечты. Так, одним из ее синонимичных определений является толкование через слово аmbicja, которое, в свою очередь, толкуется как: сhęć bycia lepszym (желание быть лучшим), сhęć osiągnięcia czegoś. (желание добиться чего-то). Польские тексты включают обычно, наряду с пожеланием испол- нения мечтаний и такое пожелание, как Pomyślności! Польско-русские словари переводят это слово как ‘удача, благо- получие’. И тем не менее, полного соот- ветствия между пожеланием pomyślności и удачи, как представляется, нет. “Inny slovnik języka polskiego” (2000) толкует значение польского слова как ‘состояние действительности, когда ожидания и реальность совпадают’. Русская удача связана, напротив, с неожиданным бла- гоприятным стечением обстоятельств. Отсюда польский адресат представля- ется более склонным к планированию, нежели русский, в силу чего его мечта может больше напоминать план. Тот, кто мечтает, смотрит в буду- щее. В этом отношении можно сказать, что польская культура, как и русская, устремлена в будущее. В русской куль- туре отношение к мечте и свойству мечтательности двоякое: с одной сто- роны, мечта рассматривается как залог движения вперед, как фактор успеха (http://www.ysnex.ru/dreampurpose.php), с другой – русский язык знает выраже- ния пустые мечты, юношеские мечты, «что же делать, если обманула та мечта, как всякая мечта» (А. Блок). На русских веб-страницах можно найти множество высказываний в защиту мечты, – но если нужно защищать право на мечта- тельность, значит, в обществе сущест- Э. Лассан. КУЛЬТУРНЫЕ СЦЕНАРИИ МЫШЛЕНИЯ И ЭТИКЕТНЫЕ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ЖАНРЫ 32 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA вует и противоположный взгляд на это свойство человеческого характера. Как представляется автору этой статьи, для носителя русской культуры мечтать дозволительно в юности (юношеские мечты), мечтающий человек средних лет превращается в пассивного неудачника, не выстраивающего рациональных путей для достижения ц е л и . Итак, если говорить о ценностях, которые являются объектом пожелания в польских текстах, то они несколько отличаются от русских и немецких. Зд о р о в ь е , сч а с т ь е , л ю б о в ь – цен- ности совпадающие. Улыбки, смех, меч- та – слова, реже встречающиеся как в русских поздравлениях, так и немецких. Интересно, что мы не отметили случаев пожелания оставаться таким (такой), как есть. Значит ли это, что молодость не входит в число главных ценностей польских субъектов поздравлений? В не- мецких текстах такое пожелание есть, но оно прочитывается неоднозначно: и как пожелание психологической молодости, и как утверждение того, что адресат не должен меняться как человек, так как он все делает правильно. Как и в русских поздравлениях, в польских используется форма повели- тельного наклонения с частицей niech – ‘пусть’ для выражения пожеланий. Они адресованы не имеющей обозначения безличной силе: Niech życie słodko płynie, a wszystko, co złe niech szybko minie; Niechaj będą szczęśliwe i pełne uroku; Zdrowie wiecznie niech Ci służy, niech się spełni o czym marzys; Niechaj los Tobie sprzyja, niosąc powodzenie. В русской культуре мы определяли такое постро- ение пожеланий как имеющее заклина- тельный характер. Возможно, в польских поздравлениях частота встречаемости частицы niech несколько меньше, чем в русских текстах ее аналога. Речь идет о том, что в польских пожеланиях она встречается в тексте один раз, в то время как русский текст имеет практически анафорическое построение фраз-поже- ланий, где повторяется частица пусть: Пусть не будет у тебя ненастья Только радость, только солнца свет! Пусть любовь придет к тебе большая, Не на год – на вечность, навсегда, И пусть будет жизнь твоя, родная, Светлой, словно родниковая вода! Поэтому мы не будем здесь говорить о заклинательном характере польских пожеланий, но отметим ту общую для славян пассивность, о которой говорил еще Адам Мицкевич, усмотревший в ней «не проявление подчинения и слабо- сти, а доказательство внутренней силы, скрытой до времени воли» (Лескинен 2011, с. 220). То, что отличает русские пожелания от польских, связано с акцентуацией вни- мания в польских открытках на ценности мгновения, моментов жизни, каждый из которых должен быть счастливым: Niech twe życie słodko płynie, w tej chwili i o każdej godzinie; A zdrowie i szczęście niech Cię nie mija; By w Twym dorosłym życiu ważna była każda chwila. С одной стороны, здесь можно увидеть тягу к наслаждению каждой минутой, что соот- носится с указанными выше свойствами польского характера (любовь к удоволь- ствию), с другой – возможно, иное, более дробное ощущение времени у носителей польской культуры. Но это, безусловно, тема отдельного исследования. Нужно сказать, что и композиция польских поздравлений отличается SPRENDIMAI 33 от русских: в польских поздравле- ниях не принято употреблять глагол pogratulować – ‘поздравлять’ ни в на- чальной, ни в заключительной части по- здравлений – gratulacij. Таким образом, субъект поздравления эксплицируется слабее, чем в русских пожеланиях – только лицом глагола życzę Ci – ‘желаю тебе’, которое выступает в неразрывной связке с местоимением второго лица – Ja składam Ci życzenia; Dzień urodzin się już zbliża,/ Więc życzenia Tobie śle; W dniu Twojego święta/ Jest ktoś kto o Tobie pamięta/ Pamięta o Tobie/ I śle Ci życzenia. Отметим здесь вообще отсутствие кон- кретного субъекта поздравления: есть кто-то, кто о тебе помнит. В этом отношении польские поздравления бли- же к немецким, чем к русским, хотя в немецких субъект обозначается личными местоимениями, которые чаще распола- гаются, как было сказано, не в начальной части поздравления. Позволю высказать мысль о том, что в подобной композиции отражается значимость Другого, Ты, в то время как в русских Я стремится занять то же место, что и Ты. Нужно сказать, что этот вывод стал неожиданностью для автора статьи, не предполагающего, что русский текст предоставляет субъекту такие возможности для выражения эго. Возможно, такое дискурсивное поведе- ние носителя русской культуры можно объяснить тем, что игнорирование лич- ности государством на протяжении веков побуждает субъекта текста заявлять о себе иным (дискурсивным) образом. Приступим к краткому описанию ли- товских поздравительных текстов. Сразу хочу оговориться: они показались мне самыми «непохожими», не имеющими почти ничего общего, кроме пожелания счастья, с разобранными выше текстами трех культур. Эта «непохожесть» связана прежде всего с отсутствием празднич- ной ликующей интонации – перед нами скорее некие философские напутствия: человек должен помнить о преходящ- ности счастья, бытия: Laimė ateina pas žmogų tik akimirksniui,... paskui virsta paprastu akmeniu; Ko palinkėti – viskas nyksta: Patsai gyvenimas, linkėjimai; Laimė ateina pas žmogų tik akimirksniui, kaip meteoro šviesa. Gal būt keista, kad gyveni vieną kartą, kad turi vieną vaikystę, vieną pirmąją meilę... Ir iš tikrųjų gyvenimas brangus todėl, kad jame niekas nepasikartoja, kad niekad nesugrįžta tai, kas buvo. Эти напоминания о бренности бытия окрашивают поздравительные тексты оттенком лирической меланхолии, от- мечаемой в ряде работ в качестве нацио- нальной черты (http://nordblut.livejournal. com/24712.html) Субъект литовского поздравитель- ного текста практически нигде не эк- сплицируется: ни разу не встретилось ме стоимение aš, и только в редких случаях используется глагол первого лица linkim – ‘желаем’. Иногда субъект поздравления означивается в заключи- тельной части, говоря о себе в третьем лице: gimimo dienos proga Tau linki. Адре- сат поздравления в литовских поздра- вительных текстах обозначен, однако чаще не прямо местоимением tu – ‘ты’, а косвенным падежом: tau, tave, kokia brangi tau ši dienelė. Нужно сказать, что при чтении литовских поздравительных текстов носителем другой культуры возникает ощущение, что конкретного адресата поздравления также нет: поже- Э. Лассан. КУЛЬТУРНЫЕ СЦЕНАРИИ МЫШЛЕНИЯ И ЭТИКЕТНЫЕ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ЖАНРЫ 34 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA лания, связанные с этическими моделями поведения или вписывание поздравляе- мого в мир природы (о чем будет сказано ниже) могут быть адресованы каждому, независимо от возраста и пола. Так, и в пожеланиях детям выражается та же фи- лософская идея быстротечности бытия: Juokis, kol tavo vaikystė Dar žaidžia už lango rytais Žinok, tos dienos negrįžta, Lyg upėm nuplaukę ledai. Таким образом, в литовских поздра- вительных текстах нет ни русского эго- центризма Я-поздравлений, ни польской акцентуации адресата поздравления. Личность как будто бы нивелируется, растворяется в генерализованных исти- нах, адресованных любому потенци- альному субъекту. Вместе с тем можно говорить о некоем философском стои- цизме, проповедуемом в поздравитель- ных текстах, равно как и о скептицизме относительно существования счастья и других радостей: Jei likimas nepasiųs Tau laimės žvaigždės, / Būk pati žvaigžde; Gyvenimas – audringas šokis, Dažnai širdis skausmų pilna, Bet Tu pro ašaras šypsokis, Sakyk, gyvenimas – daina. В литовских текстах существует призыв к улыбкам (не пожелание улы- бок, как это было в польских текстах, а именно призыв), но и он сопровождается все тем же философским напутствием: помнить, что люди «маленькие», и они пришли в мир только на одну жизнь Tu šypsokis linksmai, nes jaunystė šviesi. Ir neleiski jos vėjams kedent. Ir atmink, kad visi esam žmonės maži, vieną kartą atėję gyventi. Этот постоянный мотив бренности жизни лишает поздравительные тексты и русской безмерности в пожелании сча- стья, и польского гедонизма, и немецкой деловитости. Чего же желают в литов- ских текстах? Набор объектов пожелания уже, чем в анализируемых выше, – здесь мало пожеланий радости, не встретилось и пожеланий осуществить мечты, стать богатым, быть любимым. Обычным элементов поздравительных текстов является пожелание счастья: Linkiu daug laimės – šviesios, kaip saulė, didelės, kaip žemė, nepakartojamos kaip žmogus. И здесь хотелось бы обратить вни- мание на еще один характерный момент литовских поздравлений, отличающий их от всех рассмотренных выше, – по- стоянное обращение к миру природы: Būk pavasario vėjas Būk tamsaus miško auksinė gėlė Būk tu gyvenimo gėris Būk mėlynos jūros baltąja puta. Трудно представить русский поздра- вительный текст, в котором бы адресат призывался к тому, чтобы быть весенним ветром, золотым цветком или морской пеной. Позволю высказать мысль о том, что в таком слиянии с миром природы сказались языческие мотивы литовской культуры и тот романтизм, который пит ал А. Мицкевича, видевшего в Литве, как и другие поэты-романтики, своеобразный хронотоп, символическое пространство лесов и озер, пропитанное духовными потоками и непосредственно граничащее с миром иным (Венцлова 2007). В литовских поздравительных текстах есть ветра, сосны, капли росы, но особенно много цветов: O šiandien SPRENDIMAI 35 gėlės pražydės / Ant melsvo kovo sniego; Tavo šventė –/ Gražiausi žiedai. Интере- сно, что в литовских текстах достаточно часто встречается пожелания того, чтобы путь жизни был усыпан цветами: Tekloja takus balti rožių žiedai; Linkiu Jums laimės, didelės sveikatos,/ Ir kelio, kloto pavasario žiedais. Вообще мотив жизненного пути кор- релирует с идеей движения по жизни как по дороге, некогда заканчивающейся (см. выше), люди приходят в мир и уходят из него: Laimingas tas, kas moka atvira širdim/ Gyvenimą praeiti ir mylėti žmones (ср. Esam žmonės maži,/ Vieną kartą atėję gyventi). И эта идея движения по жиз- ненному пути сопряжена не с русской жаждой счастья, не с польским желанием наслаждаться жизнью и не с немецким намерением действовать правильно, а с психологической установкой жить, даря тепло людям: Ir saugok širdį, kad galėtum pakelti, paguosti, sušildyti... Būk pati kitų drauge. Jei meilės žiburys užges, Suliepsnoki žiburiu nauju pati. Jei nebus aplink gerų žmonių, Būk pati geru žmogumi. Таким образом, отличительной чер- той литовских текстов является отсут- ствие (с точки зрения носителя другой культуры) интонаций ликования, мелан- холичность, обращение к миру природы и достаточно сильная морализирующая струя. Возможно, такое построение литов- ских поздравительных текстов связано с тем типом ментальности, который сфор- мировался в особых географических и исторических условиях. Из эзотериче- ской литературы, наследующей идеи общепланетарной цивилизации Даниила Андреева: «Согласно традиционным представлениям о проекции небесной сферы на земную поверхность, на терри- торию современной Литвы проецируется средняя часть или «пояс» созвездия Ори- она. <...> В частности, проживание на данной территории ставит перед людьми задачу построения «правильного» или «идеального» мира в той степени, на- сколько это вообще возможно на земле. В результате данная территория очень тонко реагирует на любые действия людей, награждая за праведную жизнь благодатью, удачей и богатством, и карая неурожаями, нашествиями врагов и бед- ностью. Поэтому проживание на данной территории требует от людей постоянно поддерживать равновесие с окружающей средой, бережно к ней относиться и обес- печивать ее чистоту всеми возможными средствами» (религиозно-философский портал «Аримойя»). Возможно, стоит прислушаться к голосу из дискурса, ко- торый не признается научным. Подводя итог проведенному анализу, можно сказать, что при всей тенденции к глобализации и стандартизации чувств и форм выражения национальный дух, культурные сценарии мышления сохра- няют себя в этой универсализирующейся среде. Оказывается, написать поздрав- ление носителю другой культуры, на другом языке – дело весьма непростое, так как именно в таких минималистских жанрах становится очевидным, насколь- ко по-разному мы видим и чувствуем в, казалось бы, общих ситуациях бытия. Э. Лассан. КУЛЬТУРНЫЕ СЦЕНАРИИ МЫШЛЕНИЯ И ЭТИКЕТНЫЕ ИНТЕРНЕТ-ЖАНРЫ 36 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA Литература АГАПКИНА, Т.; ВИНОГРАДОВА, Л. ,1994. Благопожелание: ритуал и текст. In: Славянский и балканский фольклор: Верования. Текст. Ри- туал. Москва: Наука, 168–208. БАХТИН, М., 1996. Проблема речевых жанров. In: М. БАХТИН. Собр. соч. Москва: Русские словари, Т. 5: Работы 1940-1960 гг., 159–206. БЕРДЯЕВ, Н., 2008. Русская идея. Санкт- Петербург: Азбука-классика. ВЛАСОВА, Г., 2009. Интернет-поздравле- ния как жанр постфольклора. In: Интернет и фольклор. Сборник научных статей. Москва: Государственный республиканский центр рус- ского фольклора, 302–308. ВЕНЦЛОВА, Т., 2007. Еще раз о родном отечестве: Литва Мицкевича и Мицкевич в Лит- ве. Неприкосновенный запас, № 6 (56). Режим доступа: http://magazines.russ.ru/nz/2007/6/ve11. html [См. 12.06.2012]. КАРПОВА, Н., 2002. Речевой жанр поздрав- ление: на границе культуры и масс-культуры. Русская словесность, № 3, 62–67. ЛЕСКИНЕН, М., 2011. Стереотип «веселого поляка» в описаниях польского национального характера эпохи просвещения и романтизма. Вестник ННГУ, № 2, 216–223. НИЦШЕ, Ф., 1994. Воля к власти. Москва: REFL-book. СУХОТЕРИНА, Т., 2007. «Поздравление» как гипержанр естественной письменной русской речи. Диссертация ... кандидата фи- лологических наук. Барнаул. Режим доступа: http://www.dslib.net/russkij-jazyk/suhoterina.html [См. 12.06.2012]. ШАТАЛОВА, С., 2009. Эпидейктические жанры речи. Диссертация ... кандидата фило- логических наук. Ярославль. The author distinguishes some typical characte- ristics of online greetings among the four cultures. An emphasis on the figure of the speaker and an incantatory character are typical of Russian greeting texts. Happiness, health and eternal youth are the key objects of these Russian texts. Russian greetings are related to the future. German greetings are mainly related to the birthday celebration itself. Greetings are often related to a review of life: on this occasion the addressee is encouraged to reflect on whether s/he has lived the past year appropriately. The word courage (Mut) is constantly repeated in German gree- tings, whereas this word is absent from the Russian greetings. The figure of the speaker is marginally expressed in Polish greetings. The sweetness of life is present in Polish greetings, whereas it is observed neither in German nor in Russian texts. May all your dreams come true is a cliché element of Polish greeting texts. Lithuanian greetings distinguish themselves by their melancholic tone. The author relates the detected specific features of online greetings to the ideas of philosophers and historians on the unique means of expressing one’s national character. KEY WORDS: online greetings, folklore, genre, composition, cultural scenarios, key conceptions. Gauta 2012 05 20 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 Eleonora Lassan Vilnius University, Lithuania Research interests: political linguistics, cogni- tive linguistics, rhetoric, pragmatics, semantics THE MENTAL SCENARIOS AND INTERNET GENRE ETIQUETTE OF DIFFERENT CUL- TURES (BASED ON ONLINE GREETINGS IN FOUR LANGUAGES) Summary This article analyses online greetings in the Russian, Polish, Lithuanian and German languages. The author treats greetings as a speech act which helps the addresser to remind the addressee of his/her good attitude towards him/her on the basis of a particular occasion—the addressee’s birthday. The author analy- ses this speech act in relation to the specific commu- nicative and mental scenarios of the culture to which the speaker belongs. The entirety of standard speech acts and the combination of intentions of the speakers form a genre. The genre of modern online greetings seems contiguous to folklore genres, because most of the texts do not have authors. Moreover, these texts move from one Internet site to another, resulting in a wide circle of “implementers”—users. SPRENDIMAI 37 Vladimir Ozyumenko Peoples’ Friendship University of Russia Miklukho-Maklaya 6, Moscow, Russia E-mail: vladimir@ozyumenko.ru Research interests: pragmatics, discourse analysis, translation, intercultural communication MODALITY IN ENGLISH AND RUSSIAN LEGISLATIVE DISCOURSE: A COMPARATIVE STUDY This paper deals with the verbalization and functioning of modality in English and Russian legislative discourse. By comparing the means of modality in English and Russian legislative texts, both in their qualitative and quantitative aspects, it makes an attempt to explain the revealed differences. The data were collected through a comparative study of the English and Russian versions of the UN Charter and the Consolidated Version of the Treaty on European Union. The quantitative results confirm that the English language, as compared to Russian, has a more sophisticated set of modals which are used more regularly. The qualitative fin- dings show some differences in the choices of linguistic forms and communicative strategies. Sociolinguistic and cognitive analyses were then conducted, suggesting that these differences are rooted in culture; that is, in social organization, cultural values, the concept of self, and the relations between authority and individuals. The results advocate the idea that grammar is an ideological instrument for the categorization and classification of things that happen in the world (Thornborrow 2002). Alongside other aspects of language, it provides a lot of sociocultural information. The results are relevant to the study of translation and intercultural communication, as well as to ESL teaching. KEY WORDS: modality, English language, Russian language, legislative discourse, social organization, cultural values. Introduction Modality is a category which expresses different types of relations and attitudes be- tween the utterance and reality, the speaker and the hearer. Being a universal linguistic category, modality has its culture-specific characteristics (see, e.g., Bybee et al. 1994, de Haan 2007): the concept of self, as well as the relations between individuals and their worldview, differ across cultures. Comparative studies reveal that some languages have a more variable system of modals compared with others, and the demand for them in different cultures also varies. As this paper will show, the English language has a larger repertoire of linguistic means of modality than Russian, and the category of modality plays a more signifi- cant role in the English language in different types of discourse—including legislative discourse. The paper will also demonstrate that there is no direct correspondence between sentences containing modals in English and Russian legislative texts. 38 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA Types of modality There are different classifications of mo- dality, and different ways to categorize it. Traditionally, it falls into three basic modal categories: dynamic, deontic and epistemic (Palmer 1979). Later, Palmer (2001) re- organized the categories of modality to distinguish between propositional modal- ity, which is concerned with the speaker’s attitude to the truth value or factual status of the proposition, and event modality, which refers to events that are not actualized, events that have not taken place but are merely potential (Palmer 2001, p. 8). Propo- sitional modality encompasses epistemic and evidential modality, and event modality encompasses deontic and dynamic modality. Fowler (1985) proposes five categories of modality which indicate the speaker’s or writer’s attitude(s) to the propositions they make. The attitudes fall into the areas of validity—the speaker expresses greater or lesser confidence in the truth of the propo- sition; predictability—the future events referred to are more or less likely to happen; desirability—the speaker makes practical, moral, or aesthetic judgments; obligation— the speaker judges that another person is obliged to perform some action; and permis- sion—the speaker allows the addressee to perform some action (Fowler 1985, p. 72). While validity and predictability refer to epistemic modality, desirability, obligation and permission refer to deontic modality. Deontic modality indicates how the world ought to be, according to certain norms, expectations, speaker desires, etc. In other words, deontic modals indicate that the state of the world does not meet some standard or ideal, whether that standard be personal (desires, wishes) or social (laws). It indicates some action aimed at changing the world to make it closer to the standard or ideal. Deontic modality also connotes the speaker’s degree of requirement of, desire for, or commitment to the realization of the proposition expressed by the utterance. The point is that the degree to which speakers tend to sound directive or prefer to soften the requirement varies across cultures. Modality in English vs. Russian The linguistic study of modality is carried out within the fields of different disciplines, which study their own aspects of modality. Morphology describes the lexical forms in which modality is manifested; syntax is focused on the complex syntactic configura- tions by which modality may be expressed; semantics identifies modal meanings and explores the ways these meanings may be expressed; and discourse analysis concerns the speaker’s or writer’s attitude towards the proposition or confidence in the proposi- tion being presented. Modality is primarily located in the interpersonal component of the grammar, and choices in this component are independent of grammatical choices in other components (Halliday 2002, p. 200). Modals have a wide variety of interpre- tations which depend not only on the partic- ular modal used, but also on the meaning of the sentence independent of the modal—the conversational context, including to a great extent the cultural context. The modal verb must, for example, can be used to perform different speech acts, as in the utterances which follow: You must do it immediately (order) / You must see this film (advice) / You must come for lunch tomorrow (invitation) / You must have a piece of my cake (offer) / You must not touch it (prohibition). SPRENDIMAI 39 Modality can be expressed by different linguistic devices. In the English language they are: modal auxiliary verbs (may, shall, must, need, etc.), adjectives (necessary, evident, unfortunate, certain), nouns (ob- ligation, likelihood, desirability), adverbs (probably, certainly, regrettably), modal verb phrases (had better, would rather, have got to, be going to), and modal expressions with be (be about to, be due to, be obliged to, be supposed to, be meant to, etc.) (Fawler 1985, p. 73; Carter and McCarthy 2006, pp. 638–417). The same is true of Russian. But as for the possibility of conveying different shades of modal meanings—as well as the regularity of the use of means of modal- ity—significant differences between the two languages can be observed. The English language is abundant in modals, as compared to Russian. It has a more elaborated set of modals, which al- lows speakers to express subtle shades of meaning, including different degrees of requirement, obligation or desire. This is primarily evident in the modal verbs. In English, for example, there is a variety of ways of expressing obligation in different contexts: You must do it / You have to do it / You are to do it / You should do it / You are supposed to do it. Compare the examples which follow: You must stay here (as this is an order) / You have to pass a test before you can get a driving license (there is no other way of getting it) / You are to be at the station at 10 (as we have agreed) / You are supposed to be on time for class (this is a rule); etc. All these sentences can be rendered into Russian with just one modal word—dolzhen (должен)—which is the closest equivalent of the English must. I am not saying that Russian speakers always give orders. In different contexts, the pragmatic meaning of dolzhen is the same as in the English sentences with must / should / have to / is (are) to / is supposed to. But for the English, who are individualists and value personal autonomy, it is very impor- tant to avoid being too direct and imposing on the hearer and to have various means for expressing impositions of different force and explicitness. For representatives of the collectivist Russian culture, this is not so important; because their culture lets interlocutors be more direct and demanding, the language does not provide them with a big choice of linguistic tools for softening imposition. As they are not used to bother- ing themselves about expressing different shades of obligation, they often find it difficult to perceive English modals and distinguish the differences between them— which affects understanding, translation and communication in intercultural contexts. To choose a proper modal while speaking in English is even a bigger problem. Thus, among the reasons causing im- pediments in understanding, translating and using English modality by Russian speakers there should be mentioned: 1) the lack of coincidence of the means of modality in the two languages, 2) the polysemy of modal verbs, 3) the differences in their illocutionary force, and 4) sociocultural differences which impact the choice of modals. In everyday interaction, these differ- ences may cause communicative failures (see Larina 2009, 2012), whereas in judicial practice, which disapproves of any ambigu- ity or double meaning, the consequences of such drawbacks may be even more serious. V. Ozyumenko. MODALITY IN ENGLISH AND RUSSIAN LEGISLATIVE DISCOURSE 40 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA It should be emphasized that modal verbs have specific meanings in legal documents. For example, the verb shall, in texts of laws, orders, and charters, when used with the second or third person, still has the mean- ing of obligation which the ancient English verb sceal had. McMillan’s Dictionary for Advanced Learners (MED, p. 1304) points out this fact: “Shall (legal) is used in instruc- tions and legal documents for saying that something must be done: The court shall have authority to demand the presence of a witness.” In this meaning it is normally used in official writing to show a promise, com- mand or law, e.g.: Payment shall be made by cheque and the terms shall be as follows… (LDELC, p. 1235). It is used to say that something certainly will or must happen, or that you are determined that something will happen: The school rules state that no child shall be allowed out of the school during the day, unless accompanied by an adult (CALD). The verb shall in this mean- ing does not have a proper equivalent in the Russian language. It can be translated either as dolzhen ~ “must” or it can be omitted, as in the examples given by ERLD: 1. The fine shall not exceed $100 / Штраф не должен превышать 100 $ (lit. “The fine must not exceed $100”). 2. It shall be unlawful to carry arms / Закон запрещает ношение оружия (lit. “The law prohibits carrying arms”). 3. The Senate shall be composed of two se- nators from each state / В сенат вводят по два сенатора от каждого штата (lit: “The Senate is composed of two senators from each state”). As we can see, the first Russian sentence contains the strong modal word dolzhen ~ “must”, which makes it sound directive and unequivocal. Interestingly, although the second Russian sentence does not have this word, there is the verb zapreschat’ (запрещать) ~ “prohibit” instead, which seems to compensate the illocutionary force of ne dolzhen (не должен) ~ “must not”. Compare: It shall be unlawful vs. The law prohibits. It is also worth paying attention to the fact that in the Russian sentence, the word law is the subject, while the English one has no subject which makes stating the act of prohibition a general rule. According to Brown and Levinson (1987), this is one of the negative politeness strategies used to soften imposition. The word law (закон) as the subject in the Russian version of this sentence (Закон запрещает) emphasizes the strong power of the law and the domi- neering role of the state over individuals. The third example at first sight seems to be neutral, as it has neither dolzhen nor any other imposing lexemes. Nevertheless, its tone is rather categorical, as it states a fact, emphasizing that there are no other options. It might be supposed that the illocutionary force of the verb shall is weaker than that of must, which is translated into Russian as dolzhen; perhaps for that reason it is often omitted in the Russian texts. Hardly any English textbook pays any attention to the mentioned meaning of the verb shall. Meanwhile, most of the English legal texts are filled with it. In the English text of Consolidated Version of the Treaty on European Union, for example, the verb shall is used 487 times. Compare this with the uses of may (102 times), should (6), will (8), must (3), and cannot (2). The data analysis In order to obtain new data and to objec- tify the differences observed in the use of SPRENDIMAI 41 modals in English and Russian legislative texts, I have undertaken a comparative analysis of the English and Russian versions of the Charter of the United Nations (both qualitative and quantitative). This analysis aimed to reveal the differences in the two versions of the document concerning the use of modals, their pragmatic meanings, illocutionary force, and their impact on the style. The English text was taken as the basis for comparison. To explain the dif- ferences revealed in my study, I have used contrastive analysis based on Hofstede’s Cultural Dimensions (Hofstede 1984) and on Politeness Theory (Brown and Levinson 1987). The data confirmed the arguments pre- sented in the previous section. Firstly, it confirmed the larger variety of modals in the English text as compared to the Russian one. While the English text con- tained such modals as shall, may, should, must, can, and be able to, in the Russian text only moch (мочь) ~ “can” (in its forms mozhet [может] and mogut [могут]) and dolzhen (должен) ~ “must” were found. Secondly, it showed some significant differences in the frequencies of the modals in the English and Russian texts. The quantitative analysis showed that the abovementioned verb shall turned out to be the most frequent in the English text, being used 179 times, with the verb may in second place (85 uses). Other modals were rather scarce: should (5), might (3), with must, can, and be able to being used only once each. The quantitative analysis of the Russian text gave different results: moch was used 56 times, while dolzhen was used 30 times. Thus, on the whole, modals in the English text appeared to be more diverse and frequent compared with the Russian one. In total, 276 English modals and 86 Russian modals were found, giving a ratio of 3 to 1. The most frequent English modal verbs were shall and may; the Russian text contained only the modal words moch and dolzhen. The analysis showed that there were no true equivalents of English modals in the Russian text. As a result, the Russian text demonstrated a great variety of translations. The most frequent translation “equivalents” were as follows: 1. Shall → no modal: Each member of the Security Council shall have one vote (article 27) / Каждый член Совета Безопасности имеет один голос (lit. “Each member of the Security Council has one vote”). The Security Council shall be so orga- nized as to be able to function continuously (article 28) / Совет Безопасности орга- низуется таким образом, чтобы он мог функционировать непрерывно (lit. “The Security Council is so organized as to be able to function continuously”). 2. Shall → mozhet (может) ~ “can”: …the General Assembly shall not make any recommendation with regard to that dispute or situation unless the Security Council so requests (article 12) / …Ассамблея не мо- жет делать какие-либо рекомендации, ка- сающиеся данного спора или ситуации, если Совет Безопасности не запросит об этом (lit. “…the General Assembly cannot make any recommendation with regard to that dispute or situation unless the Security Council so requests”). 3. Shall → dolzhen (должен) ~ “must”: …party to a dispute shall abstain from voting (article 27) / …сторона, участ- вующая в споре, должна воздержаться V. Ozyumenko. MODALITY IN ENGLISH AND RUSSIAN LEGISLATIVE DISCOURSE 42 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA от голосования (lit. “…party to a dispute must abstain from voting”). Each member of the Security Council shall for this purpose be represented at all times at the seat of the Organization (article 28) / Для этой цели каждый член Совета Безопасности должен быть всегда представлен в месте пребывания Организации Объединенных Наций (lit. “Each member of the Security Council must for this purpose be represented at all times at the seat of the Organization”). It is interesting to note that shall was rendered as dolzhen in 27 sentences contain- ing shall out of 179. Another curious fact is that Russian dolzhen, which was used in the Russian version 30 times, corresponded to English must only once. One time it corre- sponded to the verb should: …legal disputes should as a general rule be referred by the parties to the International Court of Justice in accordance with the provisions of the Statute of the Court (article 36) / …споры юридического характера должны, как общее правило, передаваться сторонами в Международный Суд в соответствии с положениями Статута Суда (lit. “…legal disputes must as a general rule be referred by the parties to the International Court of Justice in accordance with the provisions of the Statute of the Court”). As the verb should has a meaning of recommendation rather than direction, the two sentences have a different tonality. The Russian sentence sounds more prescriptive, while the English one is more recommending and soft. The fact that there is no direct correspon- dence between the English verb shall (in the meaning of must) and the Russian modal word dolzhen enhances our assumption that the illocutionary force of shall is weaker. If that is true, then English sentences with shall sound less prescriptive than Russian sentences with dolzhen. Conclusions The results of my study confirm the fact that the English language has a more numerous set of modals than Russian, and uses them more regularly. This peculiarity is char- acteristic of different types of discourse, including legislative, and it affects the style. Due to the great number of modals used in the English texts, which soften obligation and prescription, it sounds more neutral— while the Russian text, which in general has less modals and, instead of softeners, contains a considerable number of modals with semantics of obligation, sounds more instructive and directive. It is known that obligation is connected with power (Fowler 1985, p. 72), and power is considered to be one of the main dimen- sions of culture (Hofstede 1987). Thus, the reason for the differences revealed is rooted in culture, that is, in social organization, cultural values, the concept of self, and the categorization of sociocultural reality. In the individualistic English culture, where the power index is very low, the individual and his independence are the main values. On the contrary, in the collectivist Russian culture with its higher power index, the individual is subordinated to the state and the language shows this inequality in power. Perhaps that is the reason why English legislative texts sound less directive and prescriptive than Russian ones. For objective theoretical conclusions, deeper research is required. But it is quite obvious that there is no direct correspon- dence between the modals in the two SPRENDIMAI 43 languages. They have a wide variety of interpretations, and the choice of modals in legislative documents greatly depends on the cultural context. The last thesis con- firms Fairclough’s statement that language is always shaped by the material and social conditions in which it is produced (1995), and corroborates his view that discourse is linked with power and social structure. This is especially typical of legislative discourse. On the other hand, “We communicate the world as our language structures the phe- nomena of the world and categorizes them as entities, processes, actions, space, time, etc.” (Dirven 1989, p. 57). Thus, for mastering Legal English, it is essential to give students sociocultural knowledge and to use authentic texts, pay- ing particular attention to modal verbs and their differences, both from their Russian equivalents and from each other. This ap- proach will help to improve the skills of law students in the practical translation of legislative documents. References BROWN, P.; LEVINSON, S. D., 1987. Po- liteness: Some Universals in Language Usage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. CARTER, R.; McCARTHY, M., 2006. Cam- bridge Grammar of English. A Comprehensive Guide. Spoken and Written English Grammar and Usage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. BYBEE, J. L.; PERKINS, R.; PAGLIUCA, W., 1994. The Evolution of Grammar. Tense, As- pect, and Modality in the Languages of the World. Chicago & London: University of Chicago Press. DE HAAN, F., 2007. Typological approaches to modality. In: W. FRAWLEY, ed. The Expression of Modality. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 27–70. DIRVEN, R., 1989. Cognitive Linguistics and Pedagogic Grammar. In: G. GRAUSTEIN, G. LEITNER, eds. Reference Grammars and Modern Linguistic Theory. Tübingen: Nienmeyer, 56–75. FAIRCLOUGH, N., 1995. Language and Power. London: Longman. FOWLER, R., 1985. Power. In: T. A. VAN DIJK, ed. Handbook of Discourse Analysis, Vol. 4. London: Academic Press, Inc., 61–82. FRAWLEY, W., 2007. The Expression of Mo- dality. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. HALLIDAY, M. A. K., 2002. Modes of mean- ing and modes of expression: Types of grammati- cal structure and their determination by different semantic functions. In: J. WEBSTER, ed. On Grammar. London: Continuum, 219–260. HOFSTEDE, G. H., 1984. Culture’s Conse- quences: International Differences in Work-Related Values. Beverly Hills, CA: Sage Publications. PALMER, F. R., 1979. Modality and the Eng- lish Modals. London: Longman. PALMER, F. R., 2001. Mood and Modality. 2nd Ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. THORNBORROW, J., 2002. Power Talk: Lan- guage and Interaction in Institutional Discourse. London: Longman. ЛАРИНА, Т., 2009. Категория вежливости и стиль коммуникации: сопоставление англий- ских и русских лингвокультурных традиций. Москва: Языки славянских культур. ЛАРИНА, Т., 2012. Англичане и русские: язык, культура, коммуникация. Москва: Языки славянских культур. D i c t i o n a r i e s : CALD, 2008. Cambridge Advanced Learner’s Dictionary. 3rd Ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. <http://www.softportal.com/ software-14505-cambridge-advanced-learners- dictionary.html> ERLD, 2003. S. N. ANRDIANOV, A. S. BER- SON et al., eds. The English-Russian Law Dictionary. <http://booksence.ru/anglo-russkiy- yuridicheskiy-slovar-s-andrianov-a-berson/> MED, 2002. Macmillan English Dictionary for Advanced Learners: International Student Edition. Oxford: Macmillan Publishers Limited. LDELC, 1998. Longman Dictionary of English Language and Culture. Essex: Addison Wesley Longman. A n a l y z e d t e x t s Charter of the United Nations. <http://www. V. Ozyumenko. MODALITY IN ENGLISH AND RUSSIAN LEGISLATIVE DISCOURSE 44 I . P R O B L E M O S I R S P R E N D I M A I / P R O B L E M Y I I C H R O Z W I ĄZANIA un.org/en/documents/charter> [March 2010] Consolidated Version of the Treaty on Europe- an Union. <http://eur-lex.europa.eu/LexUriServ> [March 2010] Vladimir Ozyumenko Rusijos Tautų draugystės universitetas, Rusija Moksliniai interesai: pragmatika, diskurso analizė, vertimas, tarpkultūrinė komunikacija MODALUMAS ANGLŲ IR RUSŲ TEISĖKŪ- ROS DISKURSE: LYGINAMOJI ANALIZĖ Santrauka Straipsnyje aptariamas modalumas, jo verbalizacija ir funkcionavimas teisėkūros diskurse anglų ir rusų kalbomis. Dėmesys telkiamas į teisinių tekstų mo- dalumo piemones, jos lyginamos tiek kokybiniu, tiek ir kiekybiniu aspektu, bandoma paaiškinti skirtumus. Duomenys buvo renkami atliekant anglų ir rusų kalbų JT chartijos ir Europos Sąjun- gos konsoliduotos sutarties versijos lyginamąją studiją. Kiekybiniai tyrimo rezultatai patvirtina, kad anglų kalba, palyginus su rusų, turi daugiau sudėtingų modalinių vienetų, kurie yra naudojami gana reguliariai. Kokybiniai duomenys rodo tam tikrų kalbinių formų ir bendravimo strategijų pa- sirinkimo skirtumus. Atlikti sociolingvistiniai ir kognityviniai tyrimai atskleidžia, kad šie skirtumai yra įsišakniję kultūroje, t. y. socialinėse organizaci- jose, kultūros vertybėse, savivokoje ir santykiuose tarp institucijų bei individo. Rezultatai rodo, kad gramatika yra ideologi- nis instrumentas, leidžiantis pasaulio reiškinius klasifikuoti į kategorijas (Thornborrow 2002). Kartu su kitais kalbos aspektais ji suteikia daug sociokultūrinės informacijos. Tyrimo rezultatai yra susiję su vertimo ir tarpkultūrinės komunikacijos nagrinėjimu, taip pat ir su ESL (anglų kaip antro- sios kalbos) mokymu. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: modalumas, anglų kalba, rusų kalba, teisėkūros diskursas, visuome- ninė organizacija, kultūros vertybės. Władimir Oziumienko Uniwersytet Przyjaźni Narodów w Rosji Zainteresowania naukowe: pragmatyka, analiza dyskursu, translatoryka, komunikacja między- kulturowa MODALNOŚĆ W ANGIELSKIM I ROSYJ- SKIM DYSKURSIE PRAWNYM: STUDIUM PORÓWNAWCZE Streszczenie Niniejszy artykuł jest poświęcony zagadnieniu mo- dalności, środków jej wyrażania oraz ich funkcjono- wania w angielskim i rosyjskim dyskursie prawnym. Dokonano zestawienia środków wyrażania modal- ności w tekstach dokumentów prawnych, zarówno w aspekcie ilościowym, jak i jakościowym. Podjęto próbę wyjaśnienia zaobserwowanych różnic. Mate- riał został zebrany podczas analizy porównawczej angielskich i rosyjskich wersji językowych Karty Narodów Zjednoczonych oraz skonsolidowanego tekstu Traktatu o Unii Europejskiej. Stwierdzono różnice zarówno w wyborze jednostek językowych, jak i strategii komunikacyjnych. Wyniki analizy iloś- ciowej (statystycznej) po raz kolejny dowiodły, że język angielski, w porównaniu z rosyjskim, posiada bogatszy system środków modalności, ponadto są one stosowane bardziej regularnie. Przeprowadzona analiza kognitywna i socjolingwistyczna pozwoliła wysunąć przypuszczenie, że przyczyny tych różnic tkwią w kulturze, a mianowicie – w formie organi- zacji społeczeństwa, w wartościach kulturowych, samoświadomości oraz stosunkach między władzą a jednostką. Uzyskane wyniki potwierdzają tezę, że grama- tyka jest ideologicznym narzędziem kategoryzacji i klasyfikacji zjawisk zachodzących w świecie (Thornborrow, 2000). Obok innych aspektów języka gramatyka dostarcza ważnych informacji o charakterze socjokulturowym. Wyniki badań mogą znaleźć zastosowanie w teorii i praktyce tłumacze- nia, w komunikacji międzykulturowej, mogą być również wykorzystane na zajęciach praktycznych z języka angielskiego jako obcego. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: modalność, język an- gielski, język rosyjski, dyskurs prawny, organizacja społeczeństwa, wartości kulturowe. Gauta 2012 05 09 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 45 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Michał Mazurkiewicz Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach Instytut Filologii Obcych ul. Kościuszki 13, 25-310 Kielce, Poland E-mail: michalmazurkiewicz@op.pl Zainteresowania naukowe: kultura Stanów Zjednoczonych, Wielkiej Brytanii i Polski RODZAJE, INTERPRETACJE I FUNKCJE MITU W niniejszym artykule autor dokonuje analizy mitu – niezwykle ważnego elementu kultury – prezentując rozmaite typy mitów towarzyszących człowiekowi od zarania dziejów aż do chwili obecnej, ich interpretacje z punktu widzenia np. filozofii czy psychoanalizy oraz funkcje mitów, ich oddziaływanie na człowieka we współczesnym świecie. Mit jest złożonym zjawiskiem kul- turowym, trudnym w jednoznacznych ocenach. Nie jest to bowiem jedynie święta opowieść mająca tło religijne; możemy też mówić o mitach świeckich, np. w sztuce czy w sporcie. Jeśli chodzi o współczesny świat – przepełniony duchem „logos” – mity pozostają niejako w ukry- ciu, są często nieświadomym sposobem widzenia rzeczy. Od człowieka zależy, czy dostrzeże mądrości tkwiące gdzieś pod maską zindustrializowanego i przesiąkniętego beznamiętną techniką świata. Mit spełnia wiele pozytywnych funkcji – jest źródłem mądrości, uczy pokory, daje nadzieję i siłę. Z pewnością nie jest – jak chcieliby niektórzy – reliktem zamierzchłej przeszłości. Może jednak występować w nieco zmienionych, uwspółcześnionych formach. Autor analizuje liczne prace autorów badających mit, takich jak, między innymi: Bronisław Malinowski, Mircea Eliade czy Zygmunt Freud. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: mit, mitologia, religia, psychoanaliza. 1. Kilka uwag wstępnych Ludzka kultura obfituje w mity – opowieści o niezwykłych wydarzeniach z przeszłości i bohaterach, dokonujących nadzwyczajnych rzeczy, które z pewnych względów pozosta- ły w pamięci żyjących. Pierwotnie słowo mit (mythos) ozna- czało w języku greckim po prostu formę narracji (przy czym na ogół nie stawiano sobie pytania, czy była ona prawdziwa, czy nie). Sam termin oznaczał jedynie „słowo”, szczególnie słowo wypowiedziane. Dopiero później jego podstawowe znaczenie uległo z jednej strony poszerzeniu – zaczęło bowiem obejmować cały proces komunikacji, a z drugiej – sprecyzowaniu, gdyż oznaczało opowieść (Graves 1974, s. 27–39). Mit jest bardzo złożonym zjawiskiem kulturowym. Zacznijmy od samej definicji owego zja- wiska, przy czym należy zauważyć, że ze względu na jego wszechobecność – ale też i utajoną egzystencję – w kulturze istnieje wielka różnorodność jego koncepcji. Wartość semantyczna słowa „mit” nastręcza wielu problemów z uwagi na jego wyraźną niejednoznaczność. Obecnie słowa „mit” często używa się w znaczeniu niemądrej opowieści lub wręcz cynicznej nieprawdy. Przyjmuje ono zatem w tym pojmowaniu zabarwienie pejoratywne, 46 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA określając nasz negatywny stosunek do wszystkiego tego, czemu nie dajemy wiary, w co powątpiewamy, co wydaje się nam nadużyciem – generalnie do wszystkiego, co dalekie jest od rzeczywistości. Z drugiej jednak strony, jeśli przyjrzeć się temu, co wiemy o społeczeństwach pierwotnych, uderza wielkie znaczenie mitu – pojmo- wanego jako opowieść święta, prawdziwa, sankcjonująca rzeczywistość, stanowiąca model (co akcentował Bronisław Malinow- ski1) i będąca jedynym sposobem odkrycia prawdy o świecie. W XX stuleciu naukowcy zdecydowanie zwrócili się ku drugiemu sposobowi rozumienia mitu. Jednym z największych zwolenników takiego traktowania mitów – jako źródła poznania, mądrości i wiedzy, a przez to stanowiących ogromną wartość ludzkości – był Mircea Eliade. Jego definicja mitu brzmi następująco: Mit opowiada historię świętą, opisuje wyda- rzenie, które miało miejsce w okresie wyjścio- wym, legendarnym czasie ‚początków’. [...] Mit opowiada, w jaki sposób, za sprawą dokonań Istot Nadnaturalnych, zaistniała nasza rzeczywistość; bądź rzeczywistość globalna – Kosmos, bądź tylko pewien jej fragment: wyspa, gatunek roślin, ludzkie zachowania, instytucja. Tak więc zawsze jest to opowieść o stworzeniu, relacja o tym, jak coś zaczęło być (Eliade 1998a, s. 11). 2. Rodzaje mitów Mity można pogrupować jako typowe dla danego regionu (np. śródziemnomorskie) lub powiązane tematyką (jak mity stwo- rzenia). Większość mitologii – zespołów mitów należących do danej kultury – za- 1 Malinowski podkreślał, że mit funkcjonuje w społeczności jako „wzór moralnego lub religijnego za- chowania”, nadaje więc moc rytuałowi, zachowaniom moralnym i organizacji społecznej (Malinowski 1990, s. 358). wiera tematy i idee uniwersalne kulturowo, czyli wspólne dla wszystkich ludów, choć posiadają niekiedy pewne cechy, które są unikalne i charakterystyczne tylko dla określonej specyficznej kultury. Co warte odnotowania, dotyczy to wielu dziedzin życia, np. mitów ze świata sportu, ma- jących wiele elementów wspólnych, ale niekiedy wyróżniających się czymś na tle pozostałych. Uwzględniając ich tematykę, mity można podzielić na co najmniej kilka ka- tegorii. Po pierwsze, przeanalizujmy mity pochodzenia – etiologiczne – opowieści mówiące o początkach pewnych miejsc lub zdarzeń. Choć często rozpoczynają się one od naszkicowania kosmogonii (czyli ogól- nych etapów stwarzania świata)2, według wielu z nich, świat istniał już od zawsze, więc opisują one tzw. „nowe stany”, czyli powstanie innych (dodatkowych, nowych) rzeczy. Tak więc istnienie świata jest dla nich punktem wyjścia, choć niektóre – mity kosmogoniczne – mówią o stworzeniu rze- czywistości, w której znalazł się człowiek, wspominają jej początki (np. tybetańskie mity narodziny kosmosu z jajka). Mity ukazujące sposób, w jaki pojawili się ludzie – antropogeniczne – często kładą fundament pod organizację społeczną (np. 2 W społeczeństwach prymitywnych zarówno kosmologia, jak i wartości wyrażone są w jednym lub więcej mitach – zazwyczaj istnieje jeden główny mit o stworzeniu obok zbioru innych, jak np. mitów o bohate- rach kulturowych. W cywilizacyjnie zaawansowanych społeczeństwach, gdzie mamy na ogół do czynienia z profesjonalnym klerem, istnieje kodyfikowana i ofi- cjalna mitologia (Biblia, Koran), gdzie mity są opisem relacji istot nadprzyrodzonych z człowiekiem i wyjaś- niają naturę rzeczywistości. Są także teksty pomocnicze (dotyczące teologii, metafizyki, historii, etyki itd.), któ- re próbują zintegrować części składowe mitologii, aby powstał intelektualnie spójny i wszystko wyjaśniający system (Wallace 1966, s. 74). I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 47 podkreślając ważną rolę klanów). Wyjaśnia- jąc, czyi przodkowie jako pierwsi pojawili się na ziemi, gloryfikują one tym samym pewne grupy, co stanowi też uzasadnienie ich wysokiego statusu społecznego. Mity owe wzmacniają jedność lokalnej spo- łeczności, której członkowie pochodzą od wspólnych przodków, i dają jej poczucie głębokiej więzi z ziemią przodków. Istnieje powszechne przekonanie, wypełniające treść mitów pochodzenia, o szczególnej ważności początków pewnego określonego zjawiska. Opinię tę ugruntowują rytuały, podczas których ma miejsce recytacja mitów kosmogonicznych. Naśladowanie przodków przynosi korzyści wszystkim członkom społeczności, która w ten spo- sób staje się odnowiona. A zatem, tym co ważne, jest wiedza na temat swoich chwalebnych początków, jak również samo przypomnienie owego momentu (Eliade 1998a, s. 27–30). Mit kosmogoniczny recytuje się na przy- kład przy okazji zawierania małżeństw – gdzie służy jako wzorcowy model dla małżonków – ale również przy ceremoniach mających zapewnić uzdrowienie, płodność, szczęśliwy poród; innymi słowy, wszędzie tam, gdzie chodzi o przywrócenie integral- nej pełni – kosmogonia bowiem wyobraża stworzenie w całym tego słowa znaczeniu (Eliade 1998, s. 36). Recytacja mitów kosmogonicznych to często stały element podczas uzdrawiania, np. u Navaho (Klah 1942, s. 19). W większości prymitywnych kultur wiedza o powstaniu czegoś równa się posiadaniu władzy nad tą rzeczą, zatem mity pochodzenia mają niezwykłą wagę w wielu aspektach ludzkiego życia. Liczne społeczeństwa żywią silne przekonanie, że zastosowane lekarstwo będzie skuteczne tylko wtedy, jeśli znamy jego pochodze- nie i recytujemy historię jego stworzenia podczas modłów lub zaklęć. Deklamacja jest koniecznym elementem obrzędu, gdyż człowiek staje się wówczas współczes- nym opowiadanych wydarzeń. W innym przypadku lekarstwo nie będzie działać. Szamani nie tylko zwieńczają dzieło kos- mogonii, ale również proszą Boga o po- nowne odnowienie. Kiedy rodzi się nowy członek społeczności, szaman przypomina w swojej opowieści historię stworzenia i początki ludzkości oraz wszystkich waż- nych rzeczy. W ten sposób dziecku ukazy- wany jest cały szereg początków (Eliade 1998a, s. 30–34). Taki sam cel, jak uzdrawianie człowieka pierwotnego, to jest uwolnienie człowieka od choroby jego wnętrza – bólu egzysten- cjalnego, przyświeca technikom ascetycz- nym i kontemplacyjnym Indii. Filozofia indyjska zakłada istnienie powszechnego bólu ontologicznego, lecz wypracowuje sposób rozwiązania problemu egzystencji właśnie poprzez wspominanie i cofnięcie się myślą w czasie. W ten sposób umorze- niu ulegają popełnione w kolejnych wcie- leniach grzechy (Eliade 1997, s. 27–28). Podobnie psychoanaliza opiera się na założeniu, że początki ludzkiego istnienia są szczęśliwe, będąc czymś na kształt Raju, a techniki psychoanalityczne umożliwiają indywidualny powrót wstecz, co daje szan- sę rozpoczęcia nowego życia, wolnego od traumatycznych przeżyć i katastrofalnych wydarzeń (do roli mitu w psychoanalizie jeszcze powrócimy). Wagę powrotu do początków podkreślał wspomniany Eliade, szczególnie w swojej pracy Mit wiecznego powrotu. Do prze- strzeni mitycznej, jego zdaniem, człowiek przenoszony jest podczas rytuałów, gdyż M. Mazurkiewicz. RODZAJE, INTERPRETACJE I FUNKCJE MITU 48 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA następuje wówczas zniesienie czasu świe- ckiego, historii (Eliade 1998b, s. 47). Histo- ria sama w sobie nie stanowi dla człowieka, szczególnie członka kultur prymitywnych, wielkiej wartości, albowiem wiąże się z cierpieniami, przez co człowiek ciężko ją znosi. Istnienie człowieka w Kosmosie jest przez wiele ludów uważane za upadek, a wspomnienie historycznej przeszłości – najczęściej złożonej z grzechów – jest nieznośne. Czas należy więc unierucho- mić (Eliade 1998b, s. 87–88). Istnieje zatem tendencja do odzierania wydarzeń z autentyczności historycznej, niepozwa- lanie na przemianę czasu w historię, na to, by niszcząca działalność czasu mogła oddziaływać na człowieka przez objawia- nie nieodwracalności zjawisk. Następuje ucieczka w mit, który nadaje historii głęb- szy i bogatszy wydźwięk. Bohater nie jest zatem traktowany jako postać historyczna (choć może się od takiej wywodzić), lecz jest uważany za naśladowcę archetypu i odtwórcę gestów archetypowych (Eliade 1998b, s. 57–58). Mity końca (eschatologiczne), jak i te relacjonujące początki świata, mają swoje źródło w tym, iż zniesienie historii zakłada konieczność periodycznego odnowienia, koniec jednego okresu i początek nowego – nowe stworzenie, nowe narodziny, a zatem odnowienie mitycznego czasu pierwotnego w najczystszej postaci, co ma miejsce w ob- chodzeniu Nowego Roku3. Ma to ogromne znaczenie we wszystkich kulturach i łączy 3 Pośród wielu narodów, także ceremonia korona- cji władcy oznaczała odnowienie kosmogonii – było to nowe stworzenie świata, powrót do bezczasowej chwili mitycznej. Koronacja zazwyczaj miała miejsce pierwszego dnia Nowego Roku, choć różne ludy mają różne długości trwania „roku”; owym rytuałom towa- rzyszyły recytacje mitów stworzenia (Hocart 1927, s. 189–190). się w wielu z nich z szeregiem ceremonial- nych czynności symbolizujących eliminację minionego czasu, który w efekcie staje się pozbawionym większego znaczenia zbio- rem wydarzeń historycznych. Czynnościa- mi tymi są rytualne oczyszczenia, posty, palenie, gaszenie i rozniecanie na nowo og- nia. Czas świecki ulega zawieszeniu, jest to zatem krótkotrwały okres chaosu, w którym mogą nastąpić nawet ekscesy seksualne, czy też nawiedzanie rodzin przez zmarłych z zaświatów; dokonuje się wypędzania „ko- zła ofiarnego”, demonów i chorób; mamy do czynienia z anulowaniem grzechów; ma miejsce szereg ceremonii inicjacyjnych młodzieńców (Eliade 1998b, s. 64–65). To oznacza, że dzieło stworzenia wyłania się z chaosu (co niekiedy jest efektem katastrof lub burzliwych wydarzeń historycznych), a całkowity koniec (zniszczenie) był nie- zbędny, aby mogła się rozpocząć nowa era, stary świat bowiem wyczerpał swoje możliwości. Większość prymitywnych – choć nie tylko – społeczeństw rozumie, że początek jest silnie związany z poprzedza- jącym go zakończeniem się jakiejś epoki. Początek niesie w sobie przekonanie, że pojawia się coś doskonałego, obdarzo- nego religijną bądź magiczną mocą. Jeśli chodzi o przebieg ceremonii „odnowy” świata, przykład jest często dany z góry, np. kalifornijscy Indianie przypisują jego autorstwo zamieszkującym Ziemię przed nimi istotom mitycznym. Wszystko dzieje się potem w sposób cykliczny (Kroeber 1925, s. 84–85). Owo przejście od końca do nowego po- czątku można podsumować zacytowaniem słów Eliadego: Każda forma przez sam fakt istnienia jako taka osłabia się i zużywa; aby na nowo nabrać wigoru, musi zostać na powrót, choćby tylko na I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 49 jedną chwilę, wchłonięta w to, co bezpostacio- we; musi zostać ponownie włączona w jedność pierwotną, z której wyszła; innymi słowy – musi powrócić do ‚chaosu’ (na planie kosmicznym), do ‚orgii’ (na planie społecznym), do ‚ciemności’ (dla nasion), do ‚wody’ (chrzest na planie ludzkim, ‚Atlantyda’ na planie historycznym itd.) (Eliade 1998, Mit..., s. 102). Jak stwierdza Leszek Kołakowski, jest to pragnienie unieruchomienia czasu fizycznego przez nałożenie nań mitycznej formy czasu, tj. takiej, która pozwala w przepływie rzeczy dopatrywać się nie przemiany tylko, lecz kumulacji, albo pozwala wierzyć, że to, co minione, przechowuje się – co do wartości – w tym, co trwa; że fakty nie są faktami tylko, lecz cegiełkami świata wartości, które można ocalić bez względu na nieodwracalność zdarzeń (Kołakowski 1994, s. 10–11). Podsumowując, jakakolwiek innowa- cja, również w przypadku nowoczesnych społeczeństw, zawiera w sobie zwykle ko- nieczność uprzedniego powrotu do źródeł, prapoczątków. Pragnienie, aby je zgłębić jest tak charakterystyczne dla większości społeczności, jak idea odnowy – w wielu dziedzinach życia: w sztuce, religii, spor- cie (poprzez przywoływanie wspaniałych, poruszających wydarzeń z przeszłości i dążenie do doskonałości gdy tylko pojawią się pewne oznaki pogorszenia), a nawet w psychoanalizie – gdzie tak możemy zinter- pretować freudowskie szczęście początku. Tak więc, reformacja oznaczała powrót do źródeł w Biblii, a „aryjski” mit w Niem- czech oznaczał powrót do domniemanej pierwotnej czystości rasy. Odnawianie (po- wrót do początków) historii Jezusa, to jest narracji Jego życia, śmierci i zmartwych- wstania – w rytuałach i naśladowaniu tego wzorca, stanowi sedno chrześcijaństwa. W buddyzmie jedynym sposobem zniesienia czasu, rozbicia żelaznego kręgu egzystencji, jest zniesienie kondycji ludzkiej i osiągnię- cie nirwany. Zapominanie mitycznych początków, ale i mitów jako takich, w wielu kulturach równa się ślepocie i częstokroć traktowane jest jak ciężki grzech lub profanacja. Pro- fanację taką można odpokutować poprzez przypomnienie sobie – to jest będące wa- runkiem nieśmiertelności przebudzenie się, które dotyczy przeszłości nie historycznej (autentyczne wojny czy inne wydarzenia), lecz mitycznej, o wiele ważniejszej. W greckich mitach zapominanie przeszłości jest równoznaczne ze śmiercią, więc mar- twymi są także ci, którzy stracili pamięć. Zapominanie jest jak sen, niewiedza; w greckiej mitologii śmierć i sen w sposób charakterystyczny są symbolizowane przez bliźnięta: Tanatosa – boga śmierci i Hypnosa – boga snu. Dlatego też Bóg, z miłości wobec ludzi, wysyła posłańca, aby zbudził ich ze snu ignorancji, zapomnienia, śmierci. Emisariusz daje człowiekowi życie i zbawienie. Rytuały inicjacji zawierają w sobie element czuwania, będącego pragnieniem przezwyciężenia snu. Warto nadmienić, że pewne australijskie plemiona uważają za wtajemniczonych (czyli tych, którzy przeszli proces włączenia) takie jednostki, którym udaje się nie zasnąć przez trzy dni. W ogrodzie Getsemani Jezus wciąż powta- rzał swoim uczniom, aby czuwali z Nim. Potem wrócił do uczniów [swoich] i znalazł ich śpiących. Rzekł więc do Piotra: ‘Tak to nie mogliście jednej godziny czuwać ze mną! Czuwajcie i módlcie się, abyście nie popadli w pokusę.’ (Ewangelia według Mateusza 1957, s. 75). Towarzyszące mitom kosmogonicznym mity eschatologiczne dotyczą końca świata (zwykle będącego rezultatem klęsk żywio- M. Mazurkiewicz. RODZAJE, INTERPRETACJE I FUNKCJE MITU 50 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA łowych – powodzi, trzęsień ziemi, epidemii, ognia), który jest często karą za grzechy ludz- kości. W wielu tego typu mitach opisywane jest poczucie zagrożenia (co miało miejsce np. w przypadku Rzymian, którzy żyli w ciągłej obsesji „końca Rzymu” i szukali nieustannie nowych sposobów odnowienia (Eliade 1998b, s. 88–89), ocalenie małej garstki osób i nieunikniony, nowy początek świata. W niektórych mitach, np. w Ame- ryce Północnej, nie mamy do czynienia z powszechnym kataklizmem, lecz jedynie z zagładą wszystkich grzeszników w procesie odnowy. Mity te dotyczą głównie przeszło- ści – końca danego okresu – a nie przyszłości świata. Opis końca świata znajdujemy we wszystkich religiach. W toku historii mitów tego typu używano dla wspierania systemów totalitarnych, jak nazizm i komunizm, oba bowiem ogłaszały koniec świata i rozpoczę- cie ery szczęścia i obfitości. Mit bohaterski, którego przykładem może być grecki mit o Ikarze, stanowi natu- ralny łącznik między mitami początku a mi- tami eschatologicznymi. Początek wyprawy odpowiada mitom początku, zaś jej koniec wiąże się bezsprzecznie z wymiarem escha- tologicznym. Mit bohaterski opowiada, w jaki sposób łączą się one ze sobą (Trzciński 2006, s. 157). Bohaterski czyn stanowi jego treść, stając się lekcją moralności, wzorcową opowieścią godną naśladowania, inspiracją dla myślicieli i artystów. Następnymi mitami, które należy omówić, są mity dotyczące śmierci i po- wtarzającego się cyklu życia. Zawierają one wierzenia, które odnoszą się do losów człowieka – choroby i śmierci – często, zdaniem wielu ludów, spowodowanych magią. Mity koncentrujące się na śmierci i życiu pośmiertnym korespondują z manife- stacjami wierzeń i uczuć, które są próbami obcowania ze światem pozaziemskim. Mity te są pełne dramaturgii, co – zdaniem Bronisława Malinowskiego – „wynika z głębszych odniesień metafizycznych” (Ma- linowski 1990, s. 339), zawierają mocne przesłanie emocjonalne i wpływają na za- chowanie człowieka w obliczu nieszczęść. Za egzemplifikację może tu posłużyć przywoływany przez Malinowskiego mit Trobriandczyków, w którym dusze zmar- łych przenoszą się na wyspę Tuma, gdzie przyłączając się do grona duchów witane są przez zmarłych przyjaciół i krewnych, którym przekazują wiadomości ze świata ziemskiego (Malinowski 1990, s. 337) i gdzie „przez specjalny otwór wchodzą do ziemi, co stanowi jakby odwrócenie pier- wotnego aktu wyłonienia się ludzi z ziemi”. Na owej wyspie ludzie starzeją się, siwieją i pokrywają się zmarszczkami, lecz co pe- wien czas odmładzają się poprzez zrzucanie skóry (Malinowski 1990, s. 330). Ponadto mity o wygnaniu z Raju, utracie nieśmiertelności i przemijaniu Złotego Wie- ku są dość rozpowszechnione w większości kultur. Te tak zwane mity transformacyjne ukazują, jak jedna sytuacja przekształca się w inną, zwykle diametralnie odmienną. Złe rzeczy, których człowiek doświadcza – jak utrata czegoś cennego – następują zazwyczaj w wyniku ludzkiego błędu, winy lub nieszczęśliwego zbiegu okoliczności. Klasycznym przykładem mitu tego typu jest przedstawione na kartach Biblii wygnanie z Raju Adama i Ewy, które miało mieć tak duży wpływ na dalsze losy ludzkości. 3. Interpretacje mitów Victor Turner zaproponował swoją inter- pretację mitów jako „zjawisk liminalnych”, I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 51 jako że odnoszą się one do krytycznych sytuacji, doniosłych przejść pomiędzy ważnymi etapami ludzkiej egzystencji, np. śmierć – narodziny, chaos – kosmos, natura – kultura (Turner 1995, s. 95–96). W socjologii mit jest opowieścią, która jest ważna dla grupy. Mity zajmują się historią grup, ich religiami i bohaterami, i dają odpowiedzi ostateczne, których nie można podważać. Zespalają grupę ludzi za sprawą rytuałów (w większości religijnych, jako że w odróżnieniu od religii magia nie wiąże wyznawców i nie daje wskazówek moralnych). Ten proces integracji społecz- nej, na który duży nacisk położył Durkheim (postrzegając społeczeństwo jako źródło religii, a religię jako serce i duszę grupy), dokonuje się za sprawą świętych rzeczy, symboli i aktów religijnych i powszechnego kultu (Durkheim 2001). Jak twierdzi Joseph Campbell, istnieją dwa całkowicie różne porządki mitolo- giczne: Jeden wiąże cię ze swoją własną naturą i ze światem przyrody, którego jesteś częścią. Druga mitologia jest ściśle socjologiczna, wiąże cię z określoną społecznością. Bo przecież nie jesteś po prostu człowiekiem naturalnym, ale członkiem konkretnej grupy (Campbell 2007, s. 42). Nawet każda mała społeczność – taka jak rodzina – posiada własne opowieści i rytuały, które zespalają ją i nadają jej cechy odróżniające ją od innych rodzin. Poma- gają one przetrwać niedostatek i tragedie, inspirują działania pomagające osiągnąć doskonałość. Zatem trzeba żyć zgodnie z obowiązującymi tam prawami, nie dając się jednak stłamsić. Przyszła mitologia powin- na utożsamiać jednostkę nie z jej własną, lokalną grupą, lecz z całą planetą, ale spra- wy, które będzie poruszać, będą dokładnie takie same jak we wszystkich mitach – oto wyobrażenie Campbella o przyszłym micie (Campbell 2007, s. 44). Jeśli chodzi o miejsce mitu w filozofii, praktykujący tę dyscyplinę przez długi czas ignorowali problemy podnoszone przez myśl mityczną. Ernst Cassirer, który jako pierwszy w czasach nowożytnych dostrzegł wagę mitów dla filozofii, twierdził, że mit, zawsze zawierający akt lub wierzenie, powstaje z emocji. Jako wytwór umysłu jest wyrażeniem lub uprzedmiotowieniem tychże emocji. Jego zdaniem, mit jest fun- damentalną formą symboliczną, która kre- uje nasze postrzeganie świata. Nie jest za- korzeniony w sferze intelektu czy dyskursu, lecz opiera się na wyobrażeniu, przy czym należy pamiętać, że wyobrażenia mityczne nie reprezentują poszczególnych rzeczy – to one same są owymi rzeczami. W mitycz- nej świadomości nie ma przemyślanego podziału na to, co realne i to, co idealne. Dzięki mitom grupy ludzi otrzymują coś, co absolutne i niepodważalne (Cassirer 1953, s. 110). Ponadto, mity promują jedność wszystkich form życia (Cassirer on Myth). Ważną funkcją mitu jest więc zapewnienie integracji grup poprzez proces dokonujący się bez udziału „racjonalnej świadomości”, gdyż mity tworzą odrębny typ świadomości (Cassirer 1963, s. 120–130). Uczennica Cassirera, Susanne Langer, uważa, że mity są opowieściami będący- mi wytworem fantazji, tak jak marzenia. Jednakże mity, jej zdaniem, różnią się znacznie od bajek, ponieważ ich celem jest zrozumienie świata i znaczenia życia. Prze- sycone tragiczną świadomością ludzkiego losu, mity można uważać za coś w rodzaju prymitywnej filozofii: Mity powstają w sposób dynamiczny, ale ich cel jest filozoficzny. Jest to prymitywna faza myśli M. Mazurkiewicz. RODZAJE, INTERPRETACJE I FUNKCJE MITU 52 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA metafizycznej, pierwsze ujęcie idei ogólnych. [...] Kiedy forma ta (mityczna) wyczerpuje się, religię naturalną wypiera dyskursywna, bardziej dosłowna forma myśli, to znaczy filozofia (Langer 1976, s. 303). Dla Georgesa Gusdorfa instynkt i mi- tyczne myślenie są dwoma etapami sprzed epoki filozofowania; mit jest w gruncie rzeczy pierwszą kulturą (Gusdorf 1953). Według Gilberta Duranda i Gillo Dorflesa, mityczna myśl jest pierwotna i poprzedza jakikolwiek inny typ myślenia (Durand 1960; Dorfles 1965). Jest to, jak widać, przeciwieństwo poglądów opisującego mitologie życia codziennego Rolanda Bar- thesa, który uważał mit za wtórny system semiologiczny (Barthes 2000). Interpretacji mitów nie ominęła również, co już zaznaczyliśmy, psychoanaliza. Zyg- munt Freud i Carl Gustav Jung – których propozycje znajdują zastosowanie m.in. w psychologii mitu, psychologii religii czy psychologii literatury – wiedzieli, że mit zakorzeniony jest w nieświadomym.. Jest to coś, co tkwi w każdym i czeka na ujaw- nienie (Campbell 2007, s. 77). Jednakże Freud uznawał nieświadomość za rezerwuar tłumionego libido, a mity za znajdującą ujście w wyobraźni realizację tłumionego pragnienia, którego źródłem są odwiecz- ne, mityczne zmagania między Edypem i Ojcem (Freud 1950, s. 156). Natomiast Jung nie uznaje tego poglądu, twierdząc, iż fantazyjne wyobrażenia i mityczne postacie nie mogły być tłumione, bowiem nigdy nie należały do sfery świadomości. W istocie, jego zdaniem, należą one do sfery zbioro- wej, nie indywidualnej, nieświadomości (Jung, Kerényi 1949, s. 101)4. 4 Jung początkowo znajdował się pod dużym wpływem Freuda, czerpiąc z jego prac wiele idei, które wydawały mu się pomocne w jego własnej pracy. Od Zdaniem szkoły psychoanalitycznej, mity są uzewnętrznieniem tkwiących w podświadomości tzw. praobrazów, czyli archetypów, jak np. dziewica, boskie dzie- cko, demon zniszczenia, itp. (Pietrzykowski 1978, s. 8). Archetyp zawsze zawiera w sobie potencjalnie całe bogactwo dziedzi- ny, której dotyczy, np. archetyp matki ma charakter nadrzędny wobec każdego prze- jawu tego, co macierzyńskie. Archetypy stanowią ośrodki nieświadomości i mają – psychicznie i moralnie – stronę zarówno konstruktywną, jak i destruktywną; mogą zatem przynieść harmonię i ochronę, jeśli człowiek przyjmie wobec nich odpowied- nio poważną postawę, natomiast w innym wypadku mogą sprowadzić na jednostki i całe społeczeństwa katastrofę. Archetypy dostępne są świadomości w postaci sym- boli, które są obrazami wtórnymi posia- dającymi duży ładunek nieświadomych treści. Symbole konkretyzują więc to, co niewyrażalne i niejasne. Treść archetypowa jest zawsze wyrażana w formie przenośni, nie jest więc od razu znana, lecz może zostać sformułowana dopiero po pewnym namyśle (Jung 1981, s. 21–22). Mit, będąc produktem nieświadomego archetypu, wy- maga interpretacji psychologicznej, jako że każdy przedmiot mógłby stać się fetyszem, a efekt ten nie wynika bynajmniej z właści- wości tego przedmiotu, lecz jest produktem psychicznym (Jung 1981, s. 272). Sen, który jest zjawiskiem niezależnym od świadomości – obok fantazji i wizji roku 1907 datuje się okres współpracy obu naukowców, który trwał 6 lat. Należy nadmienić, że Jung, pomimo związku z psychoanalizą, nigdy nie uznał doktryny Freuda w całości, np. odrzucił psychoanalityczną teorię seksualności dziecięcej, krytykował wyłączne doszu- kiwanie się genezy zaburzeń psychicznych w dzie- ciństwie, jak również osłabił nacisk, jaki Freud kładł na znaczenie kompleksu Edypa (zob. Jung 1981, s. 7–8). I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 53 (mistycznych, artystycznych itp.) – daje najlepszy dostęp do psychiki nieświadomej (Jacobi 1968, s. 95). Gdy śnimy, zapusz- czamy się w wielki mitologiczny ocean, mitologia obecna jest więc w marzeniach sennych. Według Campbella sen to osobiste przeżycie głębokiego, mrocznego funda- mentu naszego świadomego życia, gdy tym- czasem mit to sen społeczności; stwierdza zatem wręcz: „Mit jest publicznym snem, a sen – prywatnym mitem” (Campbell 2007, s. 59). I dalej, „Mity i sny pochodzą z tej samej strony. Mają swoje źródło w pew- nych wyobrażeniach, które potem szukają wyrazu w formie symbolicznej” (Campbell 2007, s. 52). Campbell przychyla się do zaproponowanego przez Junga podziału snów na sny osobiste i mityczne – sny bę- dące czystymi mitami. W przypadku wielu wizjonerów i bohaterów, ich prywatne sny nie szły w parze ze snami społeczności, w którym przyszło im żyć – zboczyli oni ze ścieżki harmonijnego współżycia ze swoi- mi grupami, wybrali wyzwanie i przygodę (Campbell 2007, s. 57–60). 4. Funkcje i znaczenie mitów Mit spełnia ważne funkcje psychologiczne: poznawcze, komunikacyjne, edukacyjne, kompensacyjne, integracyjne. Kształtuje on relacje społeczne, reguluje proces tworzenia się tożsamości indywidualnej i zbiorowej. W mitach, zdaniem Zenona W. Dudka, można wyróżnić następujące poziomy: skojarzeniowy (asocjacyjny), psychopa- tologiczny (podejście charakteryzujące Freuda, który w micie o Edypie odkrył głównie symptom neurotyczny i kazirod- czy), literacki (metaforyczny), symboliczny (odnoszący się do tradycji kulturowej i reli- gijnej) i archetypowy (koncentrujący się na uniwersalnych formach, ponadkulturowych kodach znaczeniowych odpowiadających pierwotnym obrazom, które człowiek dzie- dziczy) (Dudek 2000, s. 23). Mit ma niezwykle ważne i głębokie praktyczne znaczenie psychologiczne dla większej części ludzkości. Na przykład, jeśli jakaś jednostka zdołała osiągnąć coś w przeszłości, zawiera się w tym pociecha, że każdy może dokonać wszystkiego. W dodatku mityczne obrazy mają niezwy- kle silny przekaz: są zdolne wyzwalać w człowieku energię, która popycha go do akcji. Zatem mity niewątpliwie dają człowiekowi inspirację, motywację, siłę, zdolność tworzenia. Postrzegane z innej strony są zbiorem rad, które pomagają mu pokonać swoje słabości i ograniczenia. Mit o Nadczłowieku/Supermanie sprawia, że w słabej jednostce budzi się pragnienie zostania samemu bohaterem. Marzy o tym i marzenie owo tkwi w jego podświadomości przez długi czas, często przez całe życie. Mit rozbudza marzenia w przyszłych bo- haterach w wielu dziedzinach życia, dając nadzieję i motywując do pracy, mającej w perspektywie doprowadzić do bohaterskich czynów. Niezwykle ważna jest funkcja eduka- cyjna mitów, bowiem mity ukazują ludzkie niedoskonałości, mówią nam, jak stawić czoło cierpieniom, znosić je i interpretować, pokazują, w jaki sposób inni urzeczywist- niali przejście z jednego etapu w drugi, ale nie oferują łatwej pociechy, że w życiu nie może albo nie powinno być cierpienia, gdyż uznają za niezmienny fakt, iż ból jest częścią istnienia tego świata. W ogólniejszej perspektywie mity uczą jak mieć współczujący udział w smutkach innych ludzi. W mitach na równi z młodoś- M. Mazurkiewicz. RODZAJE, INTERPRETACJE I FUNKCJE MITU 54 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA cią odnajdujemy starość – ceni się wiek, mądrzy starcy to postacie bardzo szanowa- ne – oraz śmierć: myślenie w kategoriach mitologicznych pomaga nam dojść do zgody z tym, co nieuchronnie czeka nas na tym padole łez. Można rzec, iż człowiek uczy się rozpoznawać wartości pozytywne w tym, co na pierwszy rzut oka wydaje mu się negatywnym aspektem życia. Każda mi- tologia ma za przedmiot mądrość życiową odniesioną do konkretnej kultury. Mit jest w dużym stopniu nieświado- mym, nawykowym sposobem widzenia rzeczy. Znaczenie mitu jest w większości ukryte, leży pod powierzchnią świadomo- ści tych, którzy tym mitem żyją, jego treść może więc pozostać zakryta dla szerszych kręgów, w efekcie sprawiając wrażenie historii pozornie bez większego sensu. W momencie jednakże odkrycia sensu jego symboli, jego znaczenie archetypowe eks- ploduje. Właściwe odczytanie mitu może być procesem indywidualnym i zbioro- wym i wymaga przestrzeni kulturowej, a więc rytuałów i całej sfery komunikacji kulturowej (Dudek 2000, s. 26). W daw- nych czasach funkcję rozpoznawania mitu i komunikowania jego ukrytej warstwy znaczeniowej wypełniali szamani, wróż- bici, kapłani, astrologowie; natomiast współczesny człowiek również często ko- rzysta z doświadczenia grupy lub jednostek „wtajemniczonych”. Jeśli w danej grupie mit nie jest do- statecznie obecny, symbole archetypowe manifestują się drogą marzeń sennych lub doprowadzają do tworzenia się objawów z punktu widzenia psychiatrii chorobowych – obsesji, halucynacji, urojeń, zachowań au- todestruktywnych itp. (Dudek 2000, s. 24). Bibliografia BARTHES, R., 2000. Mitologie. Tłum. A. Dziadek. Warszawa: Wydawnictwo KR. CAMPBELL, J., 2007. Potęga mitu. Tłum. I. Kania. Kraków: Wydawnictwo Znak. CASSIRER, E., 1953. 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Structure and Anti-Structure. New York: Aldine de Gruyter. WALLACE, A. F. C., 1966. Religion, An An- thropological View. New York: Random House. Michał Mazurkiewicz Jan Kochanowski University in Kielce, Poland Research interests: American, British and Polish culture THE TYPES, INTERPRETATIONS AND FUNCTIONS OF MYTH Summary In this article, the author analyses the phenomenon of myth—a significant element of culture—by presenting miscellaneous types of myths that have accompanied human beings from the dawn of time to the present, interpreting them from the point of view of (for example) philosophy or psychoanaly- sis, the functions of myths, and their ways of influ- encing human beings in the contemporary world. Myths are complex cultural phenomena, difficult to assess unambiguously. One of the main reasons is the fact that they are not only holy tales having some religious background; we can also talk about secular myths, for example in art or in sport. As far as our contemporary world—brazenly hi-tech and filled with the spirit of logos—is concerned, it is an interesting fact that myths do not surface but remain hidden, as it were; they are in many cases a subconscious way of seeing things. It depends on the individual whether he or she somehow notices those wisdoms existing somewhere under the mask of the world, industrialized and perme- Michał Mazurkiewicz Jano Kochanowskio universitetas Kielcuose, Lenkija Moksliniai interesai: amerikiečių, britų ir lenkų kultūra MITO RŪŠYS, INTERPRETACIJOS IR FUNKCIJOS Santrauka Šiame straipsnyje analizuojamas mitas kaip itin svarbus kultūros elementas. Aptariami įvairūs mitų tipai, žinomi iki dabar, jų interpretacijos filosofi- jos, psichoanalizės požiūriu. Nagrinėjamos mitų funkcijos ir būdai, kuriais paveikiami šiuolaikiniai žmonės. Verta pažymėti, kad mitas yra nevienalytis kultūros reiškinys, kurį sudėtinga vertinti viena- reikšmiškai. Viena iš pagrindinių priežasčių yra ta, kad mitas yra ne tik šventa pasaka, turinti religinį pagrindą. Mes apie jį galime kalbėti ir kaip apie pasaulietinį mitą, pavyzdžiui, mene ar sporte. Šiuo- laikiniame pasaulyje gausu aukštųjų technologijų ir logotipų – tai susiję su mitu. Įdomu analizuoti, kaip ir kodėl mitai neišnyra į kultūros paviršių ir lieka tarsi nežinomi, nesikeičia. Daugeliu atvejų tai nesąmoningas būdas įžvelgti tam tikrus dalykus. Jis priklauso nuo žmogaus – ar žmogus kažkaip pastebi tą išmintį, glūdinčią po pasaulio kauke – pramoni- nėmis ir bejausmėmis technologijomis. Be abejo, mitas atlieka daug svarbių funkcijų – tai puikus M. Mazurkiewicz. RODZAJE, INTERPRETACJE I FUNKCJE MITU 56 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA ated by unemotional technology as it is. Without a shadow of a doubt, myths fulfil many important functions—they are a wonderful source of wisdom, teach people humility, and give hope and strength in difficult periods. Undoubtedly, they are not—as some people would probably prefer—mere relics of a distant past. The forms of myths may, however, evolve. Looking closely into this phenomenon, one can notice that myths may occur (in different realms of life) in somewhat changed, modernized forms. The author of this article has based his analysis on numerous works of a group of illustrious research- ers who specialize in exploring the phenomenon of myth, e.g., among others: Bronisław Malinowski (a Polish anthropologist, one of the most important anthropologists of the 20th century), Mircea Eli- ade (a Romanian historian of religion, one of the leading interpreters of religious experience), and Sigmund Freud (an Austrian neurologist, founder of the discipline of psychoanalysis). KEY WORDS: myth, mythology, religion, psychoanalysis. išminties šaltinis, mokantis žmogų nuolankumo, suteikiantis vilties ir stiprybės sunkiais laikotar- piais. Tai nėra tik tolimos praeities reliktas. Mito forma gali kisti. Atidžiai išanalizavus šį reiškinį, galima pastebėti, kad įvairiose gyvenimo sferose mitai gali rastis šiek tiek pakitę, moder- nesnių formų. Šio straipsnio autoriaus analizė grindžiama daugybės žymių mokslininkų, tiriančių mito fenomeną, darbais: Bronisławo Malinowskio (šiuolaikinis lenkų antropologas), Mircea Eliade (rumunų religijos istorikas, vienas iš geriausių reli- ginės patirties interpretuotojų), Sigmundas Freudas (Austrijos neurologas, psichoanalizės kūrėjas). REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: mitas, mitologijos, religija, psichoanalizė. Gauta 2012 04 24 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 57 Сауле Алтыбаева Институт магистратуры и докторантуры PhD Казахский национальный педагогический университет им. Абая ул. Жамбыла, к. 43, 050010 Алматы, Республика Казахстан Тел.: +7 701 343 57 35; +7 777147 15 47; +7 727 375 49 64 E-mail: asm2007@mail.ru Область научных интересов автора: теория и история мифологизма, неомифологизм, многоплановость, межвидовые связи литературы с другими видами искусства, дискурс, постмодернизм, полифония, интертекст, этнокультурная кодификация, нарратив НАРРАТИВНЫЕ МОДЕЛИ СОВРЕМЕННОГО КАЗАХСКОГО ИСТОРИЧЕСКОГО РОМАНА В статье рассматриваются различные нарративные модели современного казахского исторического романа. Выделяются повествовательные функции историко-культурного дискурса: репрезентация крупных исторических событий, «точечное» изображение от- дельного события, реактуализация нематериального культурного наследия казахского народа. Введение широких этнокультурных пластов, художественная интерпретация реальных исторических событий, нацеленность на воссоздание подлинной истории ка- захского народа является одним из значимых трендов развития современной казахской исторической прозы. Исследуются вопросы художественного кодирования/ декодиро- вания этнокультурных концептов, заключенных в них глубоких мировоззренческих и онтологических смыслов. Выделяются образы легендарных исторических личностей как национальной – Томирис, Кабанбай батыр, Абылай хан, Бухар жырау, Толе би, так и инонациональной принадлежности – Кир, Крез, Дарий, Галден Церен и другие. В совокупности данные образы и связанные с ними события составляют панорамный историко-культурный портрет эпохи в авторской интерпретации. Исследуются этно- культурные концепты «тамга», «тулпар», выделяются возможные пути моделирования нарратива в казахской исторической прозе. КЛЮЧЕВЫЕ СЛОВА: историко-культурный дискурс, этнокультурный код, концепт, историческая личность, нарративные модели и структуры. Современная теория нарратива широко рассматривает проблемы пове ство- вательных стратегий, выбора и моде- лирования сюжетно-композиционной структуры произведения, системы его персонажей, соотношения нарратора и автора и другие. В ряду важнейших категорий нарратологии особое место занимает событийность: «Нарратив – не единственная форма сообщения о событиях <…> но один лишь нарратив помещает их в перспективу начал, откуда вытекают позднейшие – не обязательно сегодняшние – последствия. Понятно, почему нарратив генетически восходит к мифам о происхождении и почему в сво- ем позднейшем литературном бытовании он столь тесно связан с эстетической 58 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA категорией интереса: в нарративе на со- бытия как бы навешены таблички “Про- должение следует”» (Зенкин 2003). Со- отношение и взаимосвязь описываемого события с более поздним историческим событием, явившимся последствием первого, позволяет говорить о «двойной событийности» исторического повест- вования – в этом смысле, возможно, и следует понимать слова известного нар- ратолога В. Шмида о том, что «события категориально целиком предопределены историей» (Шмид 2001, с. 29). Автор знаменитой книги «Нарратив- ная логика» Ф. Анкерсмит полагает, что термин нарратив должен быть присвоен прежде всего историографическому описанию событий, ближе всего к нар- ративу стоит роман и, конечно, роман исторический (Анкерсмит 2003, с. 29). Отсюда и проистекает возможность применить стратегии нарратологии к избранному нами объекту – казахскому историческому повествованию. Отличительным свойством совре- менной казахской исторической прозы является стремление представить на- циональную историю в максимально широком формате общего и частного движения различных народов, взаимо- действия цивилизаций, последующих значимых геополитических изменений. «Непосредственное знание о событиях, как они есть (были), недостижимо. Меж- ду событием и сознанием всегда имеется некоторого рода призма коммуникатив- ного акта вербализации, преломляющая коммуникативная среда изложения…» (Тюпа 2002). Автор приведенной цитаты, российский специалист в области нарра- тологии В. И. Тюпа, приводит важную для нашего исследования мысль пио- нера нарратологических иссследований А. Данто: понятие нарративности восхо- дит к принятому кантовской философией гносеологическому предположению, что мы постигаем мир не таким, каким он существует сам по себе, а таким, каким он прошел через посредство некоего созерцающего ума (Тюпа 2002). Говоря об «опосредующем созерца- ющем уме», запечатленном в казахском историческом художественном повест- вовании, можно выделить несколько по- вествовательных функций современного казахского исторического романа1: 1) панорамная художественная ре пре- зентация, о смысление и перео с- мысление известных исторических событий, имеющих большую времен- ную и пространственную протяжен- ность (напр., завоевание в VI веке до н.э. персидским царем Киром боль- шинства могущественных держав Передней Азии, полный разгром его армии сакскими племенами во главе с царицей Томирис, – данные события отражены в романе «Саки» Булата Жандарбекова; в романе «Кабанбай бытыр» Кабдеша Жумадилова пред- ставлены события XVIII века – осво- бодительная война казахского народа против джунгаров); 2) «точечное» изображение отдельного 1 В рамках данной статьи, для подтверждения своих научных выводов, мы рассматриваем две ди- логии – «Саки» Булата Жандарбекова и «Кабанбай батыр» Кабдеша Жумадилова. Количество же ка- захских романов исторической проблематики ими, конечно же, не ограничивается. Их намного больше, что вызвано объективными процессами поиска наци- ональной и этнокультурной идентификации, а также большой творческой свободой, полученной авторами после обретения Казахстаном суверенитета. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 59 события, определение его фило- софско=онтотологической направ- ленности (длительная осада и после- дующее полное разрушение войсками Чингисхана легендарного казахского города Отрар в Х веке представлены в романе «Гибель Отрара» Хасена Адибаева); 3) реактуализация нематериального культурного наследия через возвра- щение знаковых для национальной культуры письменных памятников (трактат ««Құтадғұ білік» («Бла- годатное знание») XI века первого тюркского про светителя Жусупа Баласагуна в романе-эссе «Жүсіп Баласағұн» Аскара Егеубая). Конечно, выбор нарративного пове- ствования, его содержание и целепола- гание связаны с «авторской системой моделирования мира» (Лотман http:// www.gumer.info/bibliotek_Buks/Literat/ Lotman/_01.php). В настоящей статье исследуются отдельные нарративные модели современного казахского исто- рического романа в тесной взаимосвязи с авторской концепцией, а также особен- ностями функционирования различных видов повествований (исторического, этнокультурного, религиозного и др.) в структуре художественного текста. Отличительным свойством казах- ского исторического романа является исключительное сочетание в нем исто- рико-культурного и философско-онто- логического дискурсов, направленных на целостное постижение национальной идентичности, выведение исторической проблематики в плоскость общемировых цивилизационных процессов. Репрезентация крупных исторических событий Масштабная художественная рекон- струкция национальной истории и культуры, процесс осмысления и пере- осмысления известных исторических сюжетов, мифов, легенд, сказаний вы- ступает сегодня мейнстримом казахской прозы. Конечно, историко-культурный дискурс в художественном произведении предполагает большую долю истори- ческой фактографичности. С другой стороны, важна эстетическая составля- ющая такого дискурса: какие образные средства использует автор для создания выразительной картины далекого прош- лого, какова композиция исторического повествования, подчиненная все той же цели художественной выразительности, какова форма идеологической нагрузки исторического художественного ди- скурса. Нарратив романа-дилогии «Саки» Б. Жандарбекова (Жандарбеков 1993) включает значимый для постижения его концептосферы разветвленный истори- ко-культурный дискурс. Мы отдаем себе отчет в сложности соотношения понятий «нарратив» и «дискурс». Для нашего исследования представляется умест- ным понятие нарратива, предложенное Е. И. Шейгал применительно к полити- ческому дискурсу: «Под политическим нарративом понимается совокупность дискурсных образований разных жанров, сконцентрированных вокруг определeн- ного политического события (Шейгал 2007, с. 87). Думается, что это опреде- ление можно отнести и к историческому роману – он может включать в себя раз- ножанровые фрагменты (дневники, про- С. Алтыбаева. НАРРАТИВНЫЕ МОДЕЛИ СОВРЕМЕННОГО КАЗАХСКОГО... 60 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA токолы, письма, пейзажные и портрет- ные зарисовки, батальные сцены и т. п.), объединенные вокруг центрального исторического события. В таком случае мы вправе говорить, что исторический нарратив включает в себя различные дискурсные образования, или дискурсы. Названно е выше произведение, изданное почти двадцать лет назад, вы- держало пресловутое испытание време- нем. Книга, помимо ее исключительной эстетической ценности, может служить до статочно правдивым источником этнокультурных сведений и не только древней истории казахской Степи, но и стран Передней Азии, Ближнего Восто- ка, Кавказа. В известном смысле роман нацелен на художественное воссоздание исто- рии казахского народа, которое было бы свободно как от патерналистского, евроцентристского понимания истории тюркских народов, так и от изрядной доли мифологизации национальной истории. Кстати, последняя проблема, актуальная, как представляется, и для других стран, активно ставится казахски- ми историками, философами, культуро- логами. Литература как специфическая форма национального сознания также вносит свою лепту в демифологизацию исторических сюжетов. Яркий пример – анализируемая здесь дилогия «Саки», которая воспроизводит события в раз- личных проекциях, представляя множе- ство возможных точек зрения на него. В центре повествования – историче- ские события VI века до н.э. Крупными штрихами, в панорамной историко- культурной перспективе, представлена история создания и развития могучего номадического союза, объединившего множество сакских племен: массагетов, тиграухадов, сколотов, дербиков, аланов, тохаров, абиев и других. Одновременно повествуется о войнах между сакскими племенами под предводительством ца- рицы Томирис и объединенных войск во главе с персидскими царями Киром и Дарием. Обе войны закончились победой саков и сокрушительным поражением персов, стремящихся к порабощению независимых сакских племен. Эпическое полотно дилогии охваты- вает в историко-культурной ретроспек- тиве, помимо многочисленных сакских племен, все крупные ойкумены древнего Востока: страны Передней Азии и Сере- бряного Полумесяца (Мидия, Ассирия, Вавилон, Лидия, Персия, Египет, Иудея и многие другие). Мастерски обыгрывается автором историософема «саки». Известно, что саки населяли пространство, значитель- ная часть которого приходится на земли современного Казахстана. С. Акатаев отмечает, что «еще в недрах древнего Казахстана, в тысячелетней истории ско- товодческо-кочевых племен создавалась «модель» своеобразного базиса будуще- го казахского кочевого общества, основа его материальной и духовной культуры» (Акатаев 1993, с. 5). Художественное декодирование указанной модели древ- него сакского общества, осмысление принципов его организации, управления также составляет важный контент анали- зируемого произведения. В каждой национальной культуре и истории есть легендарные образы=сим- волы. Для казахского народа имя сакской царицы Томирис, победившей «царя I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 61 всех царей» – великого Кира, является, наряду с другими этнообразующими концептами, символом национального единения, силы и красоты. Первая книга рассматриваемой дилогии «Саки» так и называется «Томирис». Это сквозной, с юже то о б р а зу ю щ и й , н а с ы щ е н н ы й многими смыслами и значениями, мно- гогранный художественный образ. Все значимые для развития многопланового сюжета персоналии романа прямо или косвенно притягиваются к центральному образу Томирис. Вот ее красочное описание, данное в начале романа: «И вдруг на площадь для ристалища выехала Томирис. Вороной конь под ней блестел, как отполирован- ный агат. Гордо переступая ногами и позванивая бронзовыми подвесками, он косил глазом, как бы приглашая полю- боваться всадницей. А всадница была действительно хороша! Тонкую гибкую талию стягивал широкий кожаный пояс наподобие сакских боевых, но золотые пластины с вычеканенными изображени- ями хищных птиц и причудливых зверей говорили о высоком положении владели- цы, а подвешенное за рукоятку к поясу отполированное бронзовое зеркало – о том, что он принадлежит девушке. Этот наряд завершал шлем затейливой работы чужеземных мастеров, из-под которого выбивались распущенные волосы и, право, трудно было решить, чей блеск ярче – бронзового шлема или золотой россыпи волос. В левой руке у нее был щит, в правой – меч» (Жандарбеков 1993, с. 7). Использование экфрасиса (вербаль- ной визуализации пластического образа) вызывает у читателя вполне осязаемый, яркий образ гордой сакской царицы, гарцующей на великолепном вороном коне, осознающей свою силу и красоту. Автору удалось в художественном решении этого центрального образа ро- мана соединить две ипостаси: воссоздать уникальный, этнографически точный («звериный стиль» украшений на поясе, детали оружия, шлем) образ воитель- ницы-царицы Томирис и одновременно подчеркнуть ее природное женское на- чало. Это динамический образ. Томирис предстает перед читателем не только от- важной воительницей, мудрой царицей, но и любящей матерью и женщиной. Она способна и мудро править страной, искусно владеть воинским искусством, и любить, сострадать, прощать. Реально-историческое время (VI век до н.э.) и степное пространство плавно, в эпическом ритме, перемежается с мифо- логическим хронотопом. Создается спе- цифический историко-культурный фон развития последующих событий. Так, в повествование вставлена известная библейская мифологема «вавилонское пленение»: «С необычайной даже для тех времен жестокостью Навуходоносор обошелся с евреями. Иудейский царь со всей своей семьей и наиболее знатными лицами, совместно с тысячами военно- пленных, ремесленников был отправлен на поселение в Вавилон, в т. н. «вавилон- ское пленение», отраженное в Библии. Знаменитый иерусалимский храм был разграблен дотла, вывезены священные сосуды – святыни еврейского народа» (Жандарбеков 1993, с. 18). Отличительной константной особен- ностью романа является введение под- робного описания легендарных древних сооружений мифологического контента С. Алтыбаева. НАРРАТИВНЫЕ МОДЕЛИ СОВРЕМЕННОГО КАЗАХСКОГО... 62 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA древнего Востока. С целью прояснения этимологии, например, мировой мифо- логемы «Вавилонская башня» введено красочное, детальное описание ее архи- тектурных особенностей: «Вавилонская башня, или зиккурат Этеменанки, что означает «Дом основания неба и земли», была лишь частью огромного храмового комплекса Эсагилы, расположенной на площади прямоугольника длиной в тыся- чу триста локтей и шириной в девятьсот. Основание же Этеменанки было 184х184 локтя2» (Жандарбеков 1993, с. 187). Выделяется философско-онтологиче- ский аспект интерпретации данной уни- версальной мифологемы. «Вавилонская башня» – величественное архитектурное чудо древнего мира – трактуется автором как метафора скрытой виоленсии, наси- лия над духом человека. Ее грандиозные размеры и безупречные пропорции, ро- скошь обустройства лишь в очередной раз доказывали человеку его несовер- шенство и слабость: «И (путник. – А. С.) чувствовал себя перед ней ничтожным червем, а не гордым человеком – царем природы. Что колоссальное сооруже- ние и создавалось для того, чтобы оно своими масштабами и великолепием подавляло волю и достоинство человека, вызывало у него трепет и покорность пе- ред всемогуществом бога и его жрецов» (Жандарбеков 1993, с. 186). Вообще в роман введен целый пан- теон богов, священных существ, ле- гендарных личностей (цари Крез, Кир, Дарий, Навуходоносор, Киаксар, фараон Псампетих и мн. др.), а также описание ритуалов и обрядов различных народов: 2 Т.е. почти 5 км в высоту и ширину! 1 локоть – 26 м. саков, вавилонян, мидян, египтян, пер- сов, греков и других. Подобное представ- ление этнокультурных, религиозных, культовых, обрядовых, ментальных особенностей как сакских племен, так и окружавших их народов, является харак- терной чертой поэтики анализируемого романа. Иными словами, нескованность жанровыми, стилевыми границами, в том числе в интерпретации известных ми- фологических и фольклорных сюжетов, описание специфики военной стратегии различных народов, ее художественная «апробация» через введение значитель- ного числа батальных сцен позволили писателю создать поистине эпическое произведение, обладающее внутренним единством и сюжетно-событийным ди- намизмом. Фрагментное повествование (например, только история саков, сакской степи или отдельного события) такую задачу не решило бы. Исходя из комплексного анализа ро- мана-дилогии «Саки» Б. Жандарбекова, можно выделить несколько функций историко-этнокультурного дискурса в историческом повествовании: • художественная реконструкция исто- рического (хроникального) времени и пространства; • отражение этнокультурных особен- ностей народов, населявших Степь, Переднюю Азию, Ближний Восток; • выявление цивилизационных разли- чий между Степью, сопредельными и дальними странами древнего Вос- тока; • выход на философский уровень обоб- щений. Для автора исторические события важны, на наш взгляд, и как правдивое отражение важных культурно-истори- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 63 ческих событий, персоналий, но и, что более важно, как возможность выявить спектральные проблемы общече- ловеческого порядка, философские проблемы бытия человека вне строгой зависимости от реального историче- ского времени действия романа. Разные аспекты номадической куль- туры, эстетики, этики, фило софии достаточно изучены в отечественной и зарубежной науке. Эта воистину неис- черпаемая тема не является предметом данной статьи. Поэтому подробно мы не будем на ней останавливаться. Остано- вимся лишь на кратком анализе значимо- го для формирования этнокультурного и исторического дискурса романа сквозно- го концепта «тамга». Национально-культурный концепт «тамга» связан со спецификой мирови- дения и хозяйствования саков. Исследо- ватели отмечают: «Субстрат древнетюрк- ской письменности – тамгабыл – вызван спецификой экономической основы: пространственной мобильностью как субъекта (кочевника-скотовода), так и объекта производства – скота, что настоятельно требовало наличия зна- ка принадлежности и собственности. Этот вывод важен для освещения всей культурной жизни кочевников. Тамга – основа местного алфавита, как эмблема рода и племени, их символика, нередко художественная, проходит сквозь много- вековую историю степи, сохраняя свою форму и семантику… Это лишний раз свидетельствует о самобытном развитии письменности и всей культуры древнего Казахстана, в которых доминировала местная социальная среда» (Акатаев 1993, с. 22–23). Из эмблемы рода «тамга» прев- ратился в этнокультурный концепт, архетипический элемент сознания древ- него номада, имя которого связано с самоидентификацией сака, и он является важным элементом мифопоэтики романа Б. Жандарбекова. Он вводится автором неоднократно: «За сто лет до рождения Томирис у подножия Черных гор, близ святых могил предков, собрался совет вождей и старейшин всех сакских пле- мен и родов… Наконец, после долгих интриг и раздоров, смертельно уставшие и охрипшие отцы сакских племен и родов согласились верховную власть над сте- пью и тамгу вождя вождей – Ишпакаю, богатырю и великому воину» (Жандар- беков 1993, с. 10). Следует подчеркнуть, что тамга как символ верховной или племенной власти саков возникает в ро- мане в большинстве переломных момен- тов сюжетно-событийной его канвы: при переходе Рустама через Кавказские горы, обсуждении военных планов Томирис и вождей племен, при описании интриг врагов царицы внутри союза и других. Данный концепт, наряду с другими, реактуализирует вопросы исследования мифологических и историко-культурных параллелей в современной казахской историче ской прозе, проблематику «философии мифологизма» как одного из трендов современного литературного творчества. Универсальные свойства мифологизма («игра с действительно- стью», создание «иной реальности», пластичность художественных форм) делают его наиболее привлекательным для современной литературы, в том чи- сле в плане отражения национального самосознания и самосознания народа. С. Алтыбаева. НАРРАТИВНЫЕ МОДЕЛИ СОВРЕМЕННОГО КАЗАХСКОГО... 64 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Интересные решения художествен- ного образа другой легендарной истори- ческой личности – Кабанбая батыра – даны в одноименном романе-дилогии Кабдеша Жумадилова (Жумадилов 2004). С новых позиций переосмысления исто- рии казахского народа здесь представ- лены ее иные страницы: борьба казахов против джунгаров (XVIII век), начало присоединения казахских земель к Рос- сийской империи. Основу исторического нарратива романа составляют реальные события: освобождение казахской земли от джунгаров3, смерчем пронесшихся по плодородной обширной ойкумене. Эта горестная эпоха, названная народом «Ақтабан шұбырынды» – «Великим бедствием», нашла свое отражение в национальной литературе «Зар заман». Автор привлекает ресурсы много- планового построения произведения, где реалистический план повествования дополняется глубокой национальной символикой. Эпический размах произ- ведению придает множество батальных сцен, реконструкция боевых действий, оружия, репрезентация легендарных личностей: казахских ханов, султанов, батыров, биев4, жырау5, а также мало- известных, но сыгравших значитель- ную роль в борьбе против джунгаров, 3 Джунгария – юго-восточный сосед Казахско- го ханства в 1635–1757 г.г. – была весьма активным и опасным государством. Джунгары длительное вре- мя проводили активную внешнюю политику в отно- шении России, Китая, Халхи, Тибета, Восточного и Западного Туркестана. Другими словами, Джунгар- ское ханство в период своего существования играло доминирующую роль в регионе (http://www.kyrgyz. ru/?page=317). 4 Би – судья. Известны и почитаемы в казах- ском народе имена трех великих биев – Толе би, Ка- зыбек би, Айтеке би. 5 Жырау – поэт-сказитель. казахских батыров. Связующим все многочисленные персоналии романа образом выступает исторический образ Кабанбая батыра. Главный герой – идееноситель, в образе которого сконцентированы все положительные черты, которыми дол- жен обладать настоящий герой – батыр, защитник народа, благородный и отваж- ный воин. В его описании преобладают такие дефиниции, как «богатырская стать», «великан», «сдержанный», «му- дрый», «смелый» и другие, отвечающие национальным представлениям об опи- сании народных героев. Автор представляет данный образ в ретроспективной динамике: показан его духовный рост, начиная с детства, когда мальчик Ерасыл (впоследствии названный народом Кабанбаем батыром и Дарабозом), потеряв отца и брата, постепенно мужает. Через судьбу этого мальчика, ставшего впоследствии глав- нокомандующим объединенного казах- ского ополчения, прослеживается судьба всего народа: драматические коллизии разъединения казахских родов, борьбы за верховную власть среди казахских ханов трех жузов6 – Старшего, Средне- го, Младшего, объединение казахов под властью дальновидного отважного хана Абылая, руководившего освободитель- ной войной казахов против джунгар. Его судьба – метафора народной судьбы. Отдельный нарративный план, опос- редованно связанный с основной сю- жетной канвой романа, составляет по- вествование о династийных проблемах послепетровской России, характере и 6 Жуз – крупное родоплеменное объединение. Различались Старший, Средний и Младший жузы. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 65 направленности царской политики в отношении соседней Казахской Орды (Жумадилов 2004, с. 184–200). По мысли автора, российские царедворцы, занима- лись интригами против и так уже раздро- бленного Казахского ханства, ведя тайные переговоры о его присоединении к России с влиятельными казахскими правителями, в частности с Абылхаиром – ханом Млад- шего жуза, территориально близкого к России. Поддавшись на уговоры россий- ских послов, Абылхаир тайно направил прошение о вхождении в подданство Рос- сийской империи, что было воспринято с большим воодушевлением в Петербурге: «Политика завоеваний восточных террито- рий во все времена оставалась неизменной. Как большую удачу, как неожиданный дар судьбы приняла Россия подданство Казах- ской орды» (Жумадилов 2004, с.196). Без промедления было начато строительство укреплений, крепостей на территории Казахской Орды. Опрометчивый поступок Абылхаира осудили и Ханская ставка, и батыры, и простой народ. Степная воль- ница (А. Кодар) не признавала власти иной, кроме исконной, передававшейся из поколения в поколение, родоплеменной власти ханов, являвшихся опорой и защи- той всего народа. Поэтому, по мысли автора, казахский народ не мог простить хану Абылхаиру его предательства, на многие годы за- крепившего зависимость от российской империи. Так исторический нарратив приобретает идеологическую подоплеку и становится стимулом к проведению исторических параллелей. Репрезентация большого историче- ского времени, эпохальных изменений в судьбе казахского народа в XVIII веке включает в себя и историю взаимоотно- шений Казахской и Джунгарской Орды. Вводится значительное количе ство джунгарских исторических персонажей: в первую очередь хунтайджи, ноянов, а также этнографических деталей их быта и нравов, особенностей родоплеменной организации, начавшейся междоусобной смуты. При этом отсутствует однознач- ная оценочность в изображении «вра- гов» Казахского ханства – джунгаров: веками соседствующие народы не толь- ко враждовали, но и согласно неписа- ным законам Степи роднились: женили сыновей и выдавали замуж дочерей, гостевали друг у друга. По сути, оба на- рода находились в зоне государственных интересов двух империй: китайской и российской. В этом отношении приме- чателен метафорический диалог двух батыров – джунгара Банжыра и казаха Кабанбая: «Вот только не могу я понять: одних из нас (джугаров. – А. С.) прижи- мает китайский дракон, над другими (казахами. – А. С.), как лев, нависает русский царь, а мы, казахи и калмыки, продолжаем враждовать между собой. Чего же нам не хватает? Что принесли нам кровопролития? Ничего, кроме горя нашему и вашему народам. Вот и думаю: нам необходимо единение, нужно забыть про все обиды сорокалетней давности и помириться – раз и навсегда» (Жумади- лов 2004, с. 152). Важный план повествования состав- ляют мировоззренческие размышления главного героя: «Что они выиграли в войне? – думал Кабанбай. – На этом ведь никто не разжился. Ничего нет путного в насилии, самому же когда-то бедой обернется» (Жумадилов 2004, с. 150) С. Алтыбаева. НАРРАТИВНЫЕ МОДЕЛИ СОВРЕМЕННОГО КАЗАХСКОГО... 66 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Особенностью нарратива данного романа является сам принцип сюжето- строения. Так, одним из постоянных сюжетоорганизующих этноэлементов батальной стилистики романа является введение динамичных картин поединков между казахскими и джунгарскими вои- нами, предваряющих, согласно неписан- ной степной этике, сражение. Подобное состязание являлось важным ритуалом, которое отличало батыров, считалось почетным правом. Его удостаивались только достойные воины, поэтому же- лающих проверить свою удаль и отвагу с обеих сторон всегда хватало. Смысловую и эмоциональную нагруз- ку несет описание природы, введение этнонимов – казахских названий мест событий романа: Шынгыстау, Улытау, Баркытбель, Алаколь, Мынбулак, Нарын, Каракол и многие другие. Этот важный этнографический элемент поэтики про- изведения не случаен: помимо создания особой национально ориентированной тональности, происходит, учитывая бытование и джунгарских названий тех же мест, идентификация границ казах- ской Степи. То, что писатель называет исконные казахские земли казахскими же названиями, подчинено идеологической задаче обозначения их государственной принадлежности Казахской, а не Джун- гарской Орде. В нарративных стратегиях совре- менной казахской исторической прозы находит оригинально развивается и традиционная мифо-фольклорная кон- цептосфера. Так, используется концепт «тулпар», имеющий в качестве образной составляющей крылатого коня, верного друга настоящего батыра. Все кони Кабанбая были под стать ему самому: могучие, выносливые, преданные. Вве- дение этого концепта в художественный дискурс исторического повествования позволяет детализировать национальное мировидение: взгляд на коня как на со- ратника, боевого друга, спутника, имею- щего прямое влияние на судьбу батыра: «А ведь настоящий тулпар особенно нужен в поединках. Будь ты трижды сильным и смелым, а если конь твой ху- досочен, не мудрено врагу проиграть, в беду попасть» (Жумадилов 2004, с. 118). С данным концептом взаимосвязан концепт «Дарабоз», давший название книге7. «По сланный ему судьбой», «словно чувствуя намерения батыра, сивый его тулпар рванулся вдруг вперед, оставив сарбазов позади» (Жумадилов 2004, с. 120). Это был переломный мо- мент сражения: «Вслед за Кабанбаем, лихо мчавшемся на своем сивом, хлыну- ло войско. А чуть позже, когда противник был вытеснен из узкого Шаганского ущелья и разбит, Абылай узнал, что отличившимся всадником на белом коне был Кабанбай. – Вот она, моя надежда, мой острый стальной клинок! Так это ты, дарабоз мой, подарил нам победу, принес славу войску нашему! ... Прими ханский мой поклон и благодарность! Среди тысячи скакунов только один становится тулпа- ром, потому что он от природы – дара, несравненный. Вот и ты, Кабанбай ба- тыр – дара, воин-дара. Так и буду назы- вать тебя отныне – Дарабоз! – провозгла- сил он и, обняв батыра, накинул ему на плечи свою шубу ханскую» (Жумадилов 2004, с. 120). 7 В оригинале название романа – «Дарабоз». I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 67 В присвоенном верховным ханом Абылаем Кабанбаю имени Дарабоз контаминируются два смысла: 1. дара – 1) отдельный (от других); особый (среди других); особо стоящий; не смешива- ющийся с другими, индивидуальный (Казахско-русский словарь 2001, с. 201); 2. боз – светло-серый; белый, сивый (о масти животных) (Казахско-русский словарь 2001, с. 151). Имя героя семантически мотивиро- вано: «несравненный (воин) на белом коне». Свойства коня – спутника героя – переносятся на его обладателя. Такое метонимическое образование имени еще раз подчеркивает отношение человека к его боевому соратнику, свойственное казахскому мироощущению. В дискурсе рассматриваемого произ- ведения концепт «тулпар» используется неоднократно: так, вводится повество- вание о долгом поиске для Кабанбая нового тулпара, поскольку конь, на ко- тором Кабанбай совершил свой подвиг в описанном сражении, погиб в бою, как и подобает настоящему воину. Один из сородичей батыра Боранбай бий отправляет письмо своему брату Ку- ланбаю, владеющему многотысячными табунами лошадей с просьбой найти дос- тойного тулпара для прославленного Ка- банбая батыра. В соответствии со степ- ной этикой обращение с такой просьбой являлось большой честью для тех, к кому оно направлено. В русле фольклорной традиции дается подробное яркое поэ- тическое детальное описание тулпара: «Высотою, как ты, пусть он будет, а ве- сом напомнит меня. Ну, а мчится когда, вздымал бы вихря поток, а поступи шаг был твердым, как чеканное слово Казы- бека (знаменитого бия. – А. С.). Уши – чуткий камыш, губа широка, ноздри трубой, а глаза с глазами верблюжонка схожи, да и зорок – беркуту чета... Сло- вом, красавец: статью изящен, чтобы однажды увидевший его, уже не забыл такой красоты. Должен быть создан он для батыра – пригодным к долгим по- гоням, погоням лихим, для победной битвы с врагом!» (Жумадилов 2004, с. 122–123). Приведенное содержание письма Боранбая бия, с одной сторо- ны, отражает, характерное для казахов мышление «образами», а с другой – традиционное казахское мировидение: в приведенном отрывке происходит вербальная визуализация пластического образа тулпара. Это описание также от- ражает феномен номадической культуры, в которой конь – и друг, и помощник, и священное животное. Углубленный анализ романа «Кабан- бай батыр» К. Жумадилова позволяет выделить гармоничное сочетание его нескольких структурных уровней (пла- нов повествования): • непосредственно сюжетно-событий- ная канва; • исторические и историографические ретроспеции; • поэтиче ские интертекстуальные вставки; • мифы, легенды, притчи, сны и дру- гие. Все эти уровни взаимосвязаны, взаимообусловлены друг другом и составляют специфику и содержание нарратива книги. Подведем итоги: к нарративным стратегиям казахского исторического романа следует отнести широкое ис- пользование предыдущей мифофоль- С. Алтыбаева. НАРРАТИВНЫЕ МОДЕЛИ СОВРЕМЕННОГО КАЗАХСКОГО... 68 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA клорной традиции, опора на которую способствует национальной само- идентификации носителей казахской культуры, мировоззренческие обо- бщения, несущие идеологическую на- грузку, интерпретацию исторических событий, побуждающую к проведению исторических параллелей. Безусловно, историографический и художественный исторический нарративы имеют много общего, но в данном случае специфика казахского художественного нарратива состоит именно во введении мифофоль- клорного элемента, составляющего не- отъемлемую часть культурного наследия нации. Литература АКАТАЕВ, С., 1993. О специфике культуры кочевья. In: Сост. М. М. АУЭЗОВ, 1993. Кочев- ники. Эстетика. Познание мира традиционным казахским искусством. Алматы: Ғылым, 5–31. АНКЕРСМИТ, Ф., 2003. Нарративная ло- гика. Семантический анализ языка историков. Москва: Идея-Пресс. ЖАНДАРБЕКОВ, Б., 1993. Саки. Истори- ческий роман-дилогия. In: Б. ЖАНДАРБЕКОВ. Саки. Алматы: Жазушы. ЖУМАДИЛОВ, К., 2004. Кабанбай батыр. Исторический роман-дилогия. Книга первая. Перевод З. Булановой и Е. Сыздыкова. In: К. ЖУМАДИЛОВ, 2004. Кабанбай батыр. Астана: Аударма. ЗЕНКИН, С., 2003. Критика нарратив- ного разума. Новое Литературное Обозре- ние. Режим доступа: http://magazines.russ.ru/ nlo/2002/58/ [См. 15.06.2012]. Казахско-русский словарь. 2002. Сост. А. АБДРАХМАНОВ. Алматы: Дайк-пресс. ЛОТМАН, Ю., on-line. Структура художе- ственного текста. Режим доступа: http://www. gumer.info/bibliotek_Buks/Literat/Lotman/_01. php [См. 15.06.2012]. ТЮПА, В., 2002. Очерк современной нар- ратологии. Критика и семиотика, вып. 5, 5–31. ШЕЙГАЛ, Е. И., 2007. Многоликий нар- ратив. Политическая лингвистика, вып. (2) 22, 86–93. ШМИД, В., 2009. Нарратология. In: Сост. Л. В. САФРОНОВА. Мировое литературове- дение. Алматы: ҚазАқпарат, 54–58. Saulė Altybayeva Abai Kazakh National Pedagogical University, Kazakhstan Research interests: theory and history of my- thologies, neomythologies, multidimensional- ity, interspecies relations of literature with other types of art, discourse, postmodernism, polyphony, intertextuality, ethnocultural codi- fication, narrative THE NARRATIVE MODELS OF THE MOD- ERN KAZAKH HISTORICAL NOVEL Summary This article considers the various narrative mod- els of the modern Kazakh historical novel and discusses the narrative functions of historical and cultural discourse—the representation of important historical events, the presentation of separate events, the reactualization of the intan- gible cultural heritage of the Kazakh people. The separate aspects of the nomadic history, culture and philosophy reflected in modern Kazakh historical prose are considered. The inclusion of historical and ethnocultural discourse as the main narrative resource and its aiming at disclosure, an artistic interpretation of events, and the reconstruction of the true history of the Kazakh people—these are among the significant trends of the development of modern Kazakh historical prose. The questions of the artistic coding/decoding of ethnocultural codes and concepts, their deep world outlook, and onto- logical meanings are investigated. The subject- forming images of legendary historic figures of the nation—Tomiris, Kabanbay Batyr, Abylay Khan, Bukhar Zhyrau, and Tole Biy—as well I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 69 as those of other nations—Cyrus, Krez, Dariy, and Galden Tseren—are discussed. In aggregate, these images and the related events paint a pan- oramic historical and cultural portrait of an era in an author’s interpretation. The ethnocultural concepts of tamga and tulpar are investigated, and possible ways of modeling the narrative of Kazakh historical prose are discussed. For the Kazakh novelists, historical events are important both as a truthful reflection of important cultural and historical events and persons, but also, more importantly, as a possibility to reveal spectral problems of universal meaning, philosophical problems of the lives of people, without a strict dependence on the real historical time of action of the novel. Today, the large-scale artistic reconstruction of the national history and culture, the process of the judgment and reconsideration of known historical plots, myths, and legends, are in the mainstream of Kazakh prose. The historical and cultural discourse in the novel assumes a great share of the historical reliability and, at the same time, its exclusive ar- tistic value. The narrative strategies of the Kazakh historical novel assume the wide use of previous mythological and folk traditions, generalizations of the world outlook, and the artistic interpreta- tion of both known and unknown historical events and persons. KEY WORDS: modern historical novel, his- torical and cultural discourse, ethnocultural code, concept, narrative, historic figure, narrative models and structures. Gauta 2012 05 09 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 С. Алтыбаева. НАРРАТИВНЫЕ МОДЕЛИ СОВРЕМЕННОГО КАЗАХСКОГО... 70 Наталья Ковтун Сибирский Федеральный университет пр. Свободный, 82, офис 2-44, 660041 Красноярск, Россия Тел.: +7 391 206 26 87 E-mail: nkovtun@mail.ru Область научных интересов автора: русская литература ХХ-ХХI вв., поэтика, идеология утопического метажанpа, проза современных традиционалистов ИНТЕРТЕКСТУАЛЬНАЯ ИГРА В РОМАНЕ Л. УЛИЦКОЙ «МЕДЕЯ И ЕЕ ДЕТИ» В работе сделана попытка прочитать роман Л. Улицкой как метатекст мировой художественной культуры, герменевтическую игру, в которой автор предлагает «проницательному читателю» разгадывать шифры дискурсов (от aнтичных мифов до произведений эпохи постмодерна), чтобы обнаружить следы первосценария, предложенного человечеству Творцом. Идейной основой произведения стал миф о Софии Премудрости Божией, Художнице, раскрасившей первичный чертеж мироздания, приглашающей мастеров к сотворчеству (муза и художник). Роман – ироническая заявка и самой Л. Улицкой на вхождение в круг избранных – семью Медеи, чей образ подсвечен образом Софии. Типология героинь строится с учетом гендерных стереотипов эпохи fin de siècle: женщина как сексуальный объект (цыганка, блудница); роковая женщина-вамп (амазонка, Соломея); романтическая возлюбленная, муза (Мадонна, Вечная Женственность). Функции мужских персонажей ассоциируются с Орфеем, Персеем, Пигмалионом, Одиссеем, совершающими свои подвиги во имя Красоты. Миссия читателя – пройти инициацию как разгадывание сюжетных вариаций, за властью букв, напоминающих зубы дракона, обнаружить следы смысла – «золотое руно», к этой цели и вела Ясона Медея. КЛЮЧЕВЫЕ СЛОВА: Улицкая, «Медея и ее дети», интертекст, София Премудрость, мастер, гностический код В современном литературоведении творчество Л. Улицкой сопрягается с ценностями дома, семьи (Бологова 2010, c. 123–142), что, как представля- ется, отражает лишь поверхностный уровень интерпретации. Автор пред- лагает «проницательному читателю» герменевтическую игру, составленную из переосмысленных, «дописанных» сюжетов мировой классики, живописи, кинематографии, которые и нужно рас- шифровать, чтобы обнаружить следы первосценария, предложенного челове- честву Творцом. В рассказе «Сонечка» (1992) Улицкая рассуждает об «игре, за- ложенной в любом творчестве» (Улицкая 1992, с. 61), в романе «Даниэль Штайн, переводчик» (2008) эта мысль выражена со всей определенностью: Бог «бросает человеку вызов – борись! Он играет с человеком, как снисходительный отец с отроком-сыном, побуждая его напря- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 71 гать силы, тренируя душу. И, конечно, улыбается в метафизическую бороду» (Улицкая 2008, с. 660). Идея бытия как становления, мировой игры отсылает к философии Ф. Ницше, легшей в основа- ние эстетики постмодернизма (Ницше 1992, с. 124). Роман «Медея и ее дети» (1996) – произведение о стратегиях творчества, о принципах создания дискурсов, начиная с Античности и заканчивая эпохой пост- модерна. Образы героев цитатны, в них проступают черты персонажей мировой классики, портреты выдающихся писате- лей как создателей единого текста куль- туры. Идейной основой произведения стал миф о Софии Премудрости Божией, Художнице, раскрасившей первичный чертеж мироздания, приглашающей ма- стеров к сотворчеству (муза и художник) (Бычков 1999, с. 332–356). Роман – не лишенная изящества ироническая за- явка самой Л. Улицкой на вхождение в круг избранных. Показателен интерес автора к древнейшим мифологемам: от Античности, гностицизма до мифов литературы, в которых зашифрованы тайны первотворения как первописьма. Особый интерес к доктринам гностиков связан с духом усталости, разочарования, отличающими современность. Вопрос о природе Зла, несовершенстве бытия и путях исхода поставлен в доктринах гностиков с максимальной убедитель- ностью. Экспозицию произведения составля- ет история рода Синопли, корнями ухо- дящая в древность (коринфскую, грече- скую), заключение же содержит призыв повествователя о вхождении в мировое творческое братство – семью Медеи, для чего необходимы герменевтический дар, способность к саморефлексии, само- стоянию вопреки базовым идеологемам власти. Самость и признается главной добродетелью гностика (Йонас 1998, с. 275–280). Роман – самопроверка и авторского опыта, отсюда обилие само- цитации. Следы истины угадываются Улицкой исключительно в пределах частного существования, «за временем», и только так, изнутри дома/души откры- вается картина мироздания. Движение в пределах художественного простран- ства дублируется описанием «мытарств души», текст пестрит мифологическими мотивами о загробных странствиях, отсылками к Библии, Данте, описанием снов и видений. На могиле родителей главной героине явлена Троица: мать «в нимбе рыжих волос» с «голенькой розо- воголовой девочкой на руках, но не но- ворожденной, а почему-то трехлетней» и отец, «седоволосый, с совершенно белой бородой и выглядевший гораздо старше, чем помнила его Медея» (Улицкая 2005, с. 29). Место Христа здесь занимает София Премудрость, лицо, руки которой традиционно изображаются в пурпурных цветах, символизирующих «огонь духо- носный» (Трубецкой 1993, с. 229–230). Структурообразующую роль в произ- ведении играет древнегреческий сюжет о волшебнице Медее, дочери царя Колхи- ды Ээта, супруги Ясона, возглавившего поход аргонавтов. Этот миф – один из самых востребованных в мировой ху- дожественной практике, варианты его интерпретации (от Еврипида, Овидия до Ж. Ануя, П. Пазолини и Л. Петрушев- ской) – свидетельство единства текста культуры. Героиня Улицкой наследует не Н. Ковтун. ИНТЕРТЕКСТУАЛЬНАЯ ИГРА В РОМАНЕ Л. УЛИЦКОЙ «МЕДЕЯ И ЕЕ ДЕТИ» 72 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA только имя, происхождение знаменитой предшественницы, но и дар врачевания, искусство прорицания, тайны трав, особую связь с конями. Ее дом, распо- ложенный «в самом центре Земли», «на пупке» сочетает черты Колхиды, Ковчега и Голгофы, однако по отношению к сов- ременной цивилизации местонахожде- ние «скромной сценической площадки истории» (Улицкая 2005, с. 6) подчеркну- то периферийно. В описании усадьбы, расположенной уступами, отчетливы черты пирамиды и Чистилища Данте. У подножия конической горы – колодец с «драгоценной водой», на ее вершине – сортир с показательной надписью: «Ухо- дя, оглянись, чиста ли твоя совесть…», в прямоугольное отверстие открывается «лучший на свете вид» (Улицкая 2005, с. 16). Восхождение – аналог инициа- ции, в пределах усадьбы каждому дано познать любовь, дружбу, предательство, свой рай и ад (от символики изобилия до «скрежета зубовного», издаваемого младенцем). На вершине горы Данте встречает Беатриче, поэт – музу, этот сюжет воссоздан в историях действую- щих лиц. И только андрогинный образ Медеи вынесен за рамки человеческих игр, сопоставлен с образом нарратора. Героиня – воплощение древа миро- вого, окрест которого и наращивается бытие: «эта безотлучная жизнь, которая сама по себе стремительно и бурно ме- нялась <…>, придала Медее прочность дерева, вплетшего корни в каменистую почву, под неизменным солнцем, совер- шающим свое ежедневное и ежегодное движение» (Улицкая 2005, с. 60). С юношеских времен героиня почитается «немеркнущей звездой женской гимна- зии; ее образцовые тетради показывали последующим поколениям гимназисток» (Улицкая 2005, с. 23). Она – «часть пейзажа» (отсылка к повести А. Би- това «Человек в пейзаже»), хранитель мудрости, сокрытой в самой земле как книге, единственная, знающая «прибли- зительно греческий язык», в котором отразилась «изумительная буквальность и первоначальный смысл слов» (Улицкая 2005, с. 5). В текстах эпохи Просвещения древнегреческий, латынь выступают языками посвященных, к ним прибе- гают, описывая землю обетованную (Ковтун 2005, с. 33–52). Тайна, сокрытая за чередой букв, знаков и есть «золотое руно», к поиску которого приглашается современный читатель. Черная, высокая Медея, сама себя именующая «чертовой кочергой», – воплощенное стило, колодец – чер- нильница. Дети Медеи – художники, украшающие собственным творчест- вом мир. Ключ от дома/храма Хозяйка оставляет под «треугольным камнем», отсылающим к важнейшему масонско- му символу – третьему глазу Циклопа, средоточию человеческого духа (Холл 1994, с. 276). Талант героини как домо- правительницы оттенен бездарностью официальных властей, захвативших землю обетованную, но не умеющих ее возделывать/читать, у представителей государства медсестра Медея отмечает «все признаки мозгового поражения» (Улицкая 2005, с. 12). Сюжет о схватке с Левиафаном – один из ключевых, опре- деляющих земную участь персонажей. Сопричастность тайнам мироздания выводит Медею из круга сиюминутных представлений о добре, зле, справедли- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 73 вости. Она смотрит на происходящее из положения Творца, «сверху», наблю- дает, запоминает, никогда не снисходя до наставлений. По версии «Теогонии» Аполодора Медея – дочь архаической богини Гекаты, соединяющей в себе мир олимпийцев и титанов, имеющей власть над землей и морем, живыми и мертвыми (Мифологический словарь 1990, с. 143). Улицкая одновременно награждает геро- иню чертами христианской подвижницы и инфернальными признаками. В отечественной культуре явление Софии связано с принятием православия, зарождением письменности, что и отра- жает судьба Медеи. В XI веке киевский митрополит Иларион в «Слове о Законе и Благодати» описывает крещение Руси как приход Софии (Громов 1988, с. 115). Медея, «верующая не в случайность, а в Божий промысел» (Улицкая 2005, с. 152), наделена талантом милосердия, внутренней сосредоточенностью, ее бытие аскетично (вдова), облик пора- жает иконописной красотой. Окрест ее дома растут лилии – знак Богородицы и таланта «художественно жить», по Улиц- кой. Сама усадьба – модель бытия, сре- доточие времен, пространств, народов, живых и мертвых, праведных и грешных. В повести «Веселые похороны» (1992– 1997) эту же функцию мировой оси выполняет мастерская Алика на крыше небоскреба. Подобно демиургу – Софии, Медея стремится «все привести к поряд- ку, к системе, от чайных чашек на столе до облаков в небе» (Улицкая 2005, с. 8). Стол как ладонь Бога – тот же алтарь, ритуал вечерних бесед, чаепитий – один из самых устойчивых в семье. Эту же функцию претворения хаоса в космос выполняют все сокровенные героини Улицкой: Роберт Викторович и его дочь Таня (отсылка к героине Пушкина – воплощению русской души) разыгрывают историю человечества в собственных декорациях (рассказ «Со- нечка»); Нинка собирает фигуры «паз- зл» («Веселые похороны»); в знаковом романе «Казус Кукоцкого» чертежница Елена прозревает совершенный эскиз мироздания: «Елене иногда хотелось бы высказать мужу свои соображения о “чертежности” мира, о снах, которые снились ей время от времени, – с чер- тежами всего на свете: слов, болезней, даже музыки…» (Улицкая 2005, с. 78). Комната Медеи уподоблена святилищу, куда вход профанам заказан: «Комната ее для всех приезжих была священна, и без особого приглашения туда не входи- ли…» (Улицкая 2005, с. 35). На подсту- пах к дому пасутся овцы, символизируя избранность ме ста. Все действия в пределах усадьбы ритуализированы, от хождения к колодцу за водой до вечерних чаепитий – из уважения к Медее «необъ- яснимые законы всеми жильцами строго соблюдались. Впрочем, чем закон необъ- яснимей, тем и убедительней» (Улицкая 2005, с. 32). Порог Хозяйки ни разу не переступали представители власти, дом сохранил первозданную чистоту, воспри- нимается как храм. Своеобразным руководством к ини- циации читателя в тексте выступают ве- щие сны и письма. Медея пишет подруге детства, аристократке по рождению Еле- не, чей образ отсылает к Елене Прекра- сной, наследующей Софии Премудрости (Женщина в мифах и легендах 1992, с. 109). Послания Медеи – вариант древ- него солилоквиума, беседы художника с Н. Ковтун. ИНТЕРТЕКСТУАЛЬНАЯ ИГРА В РОМАНЕ Л. УЛИЦКОЙ «МЕДЕЯ И ЕЕ ДЕТИ» 74 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA самим собой, с собственной душой. Эту же функцию выполняет сам роман по от- ношению к его автору. Гностическая ми- фология трактует письмо как «воплоще- ние зова, идущего в мир и достигающего души, дремлющей здесь внизу» (Йонас 1998, с. 130). Медея пишет в переломные моменты жизни на французском языке, однако тексты изобилуют бытовыми подробностями, случайными зарисов- ками и должны читаться между строк, как послания знающих (посвященных, пневматиков). Только те, кто наделен духовным даром, способны к преображе- нию, ответу на «зов». Душа же, по гно- стикам, таит в себе искру божественного знания, память об утраченной гармонии Вселенной, – это потенциал избранных. Все герои Улицкой традиционно делятся на марионеток, буратин с полой грудью и режиссеров/демиургов – художников, музыкантов, врачей, выводящих кукол из кулис – «углов», придумывающих им истории. Ту же функцию писем (обращение к дремлющим душам) в романе выполня- ют книги, живописные полотна, узоры, даже надписи на заборах и решетках, которые необходимо научиться читать. Накануне смерти/ухода мужу героини Самуилу Мендосу незнакомый «ко- ричневый юноша» с «толстой, грубо раздвоенной верхней губой», симво- лизирующий всадника Апокалипсиса, передает три ветхие книги на иврите. Медея «поняла этот внятный знак без сомнения – готовься!» (Улицкая 2005, с. 152). Через древние тексты умираю- щий, некогда служивший идеям рево- люции, возвращается к мудрости своего народа, преображается внутренне и внешне: становится молчалив, особенно добр, светлеет лицом («Медея находила его одухотворенным и прекрасным»), на него снисходит «благодать слез», тело усопшего «терпеливо ожидало приезда родственников, не проявляя признаков тления» (Улицкая 2005, с. 161). Перед смертью Самуилу открывается главный принцип работы со Словом: «мысли не полностью, а с большой степенью приблизительности передаются слова- ми, что есть некий зазор, некая брешь между мыслью и словом и заполняется она напряженной работой сознания, которая и восполняет ограниченные возможности языка. Чтобы пробиться к мысли, которая представлялась теперь Самуилу подобием кристалла, надо миновать текст» (Улицкая 2005, с. 155). Кристалл – отсылка к тем же образам пирамиды, конической горы и третьего глаза Циклопа, атрибутирующих усадьбу Медеи. По сути, названный герменевти- ческий принцип исповедует и сам автор, он созвучен общему течению «критики языка». Древнейшая символика, проступа- ющая в посланиях всех времен и наро- дов, – гендерная. Символы мужского и женского (круг, чаша, лилия, роза, крест, кинжал) прочитываются в романе как символы судьбы, явленные в строго определенный момент. Так, Медея уже после смерти мужа находит кольцо сестры, ее письмо, обращенное к Саму- илу, – свидетельство их связи, инцеста. Линия Сандры и Самуила подсвечена историей Главки и Ясона, сюжетами романа В. Набокова «Ада» и рассказа Т. Толстой «Соня», выстроенного по канве набоковского текста (Ковтун 2009, I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 75 с. 90–100). Путешествие самой Медеи на родину, к «мудрой Леночке» и брату Федору, совершенное после находки, построено по той же инициальной схеме и вопреки логике мифа заканчивается не местью – примирением с судьбой. Союз Елены и Федора заставляет вспомнить историю о Георгии Победо- носце – освободителе Руси от варваров, наследующего функции мифологическо- го героя, претворяющего хаос в космос. Елена/София и Федор Стратилат, согла- сно легенде, почитаются родителями святого Георгия (Маркова 1997, с. 234). Егорий, возделывающий мир Словом, изображается на иконе с Евангелием в левой руке. Чтение сакральной книги и выполняет роль оберега от злых сил, дублируется произнесением проповеди или молитвы. Миссию драконоборца в романе наследуют сын Елены Георгий и сама Медея, спасшая от страха перед Левиафаном собственного мужа. По- явление Медеи в Феодосии означено «большой водой», заполняющей колод- цы, символизирующей очистительную стихию: «дети и старики отворяли от- воды арыков в свои дворы. Начинался час утреннего полива…» (Улицкая 2005, с. 175). Время в доме Елены фиксиру- ется датами православного календаря, Медея проводит здесь Великий пост, Лазареву субботу и в страстную среду возвращается в мир. Ее путешествию/ паломничеству сопутствуют счастливые совпадения, чудеса, проводником геро- ини выступает неизвестный мальчик, напоминающий «дорожного ангела». Странствующая Медея – ироническая реплика и в сторону Одиссея, она «ощу- щала себя не менее чем Одиссеем», который «был искателем приключений и человеком воды, и он вовсе не упускал возможности отсрочить свое возвраще- ние, больше делая вид, что цель его – грубое жилище в Итаке» (Улицкая 2005, с. 165). Если женщина связана с самой землей, пространством, то мужчина – со стихией времени, он – странник, развед- чик новых территорий (как женщин). Любовная интрига в романе совмещает- ся с актом познания мироздания. Муж- чина познает мир через женщину (земля описана по аналогии с телесностью), для него женщина – инструмент познания мира (как разведчик, которого послал Моисей для обнаружения Обетованной земли). Инфернальная парадигма в образе Медеи включает семью из тринадцати детей (чертова дюжина), где родовая примета – «медный оттенок» волос, «но только Медея и младший из братьев, Дмитрий, были радикально рыжими» (Улицкая 2005, с. 8). Фамилия мужа героини Мендeс – отсылка к образу гермафродического Козла Мендeса, в церемониальной магии символизирую- щего универсальную жизненную силу, которую заклинают с разными целями. Козел Мендоса тождественен Бафомету – божеству тамплиеров (Холл 1994, с. 366–367), интерес к культуре которых в творчестве Улицкой очевиден: герои разыгрывают рыцарские сцены, испол- няют песни трубадуров, причастных гностической «ереси» (Ружмон 1998, с. 52–72). В черной магии перевернутая пентaграмма называется Раздвоенным копытом, а также Козлом Мендeса, ибо имеет форму козлиной головы. Герой Улицкой – пародийное отражение бул- Н. Ковтун. ИНТЕРТЕКСТУАЛЬНАЯ ИГРА В РОМАНЕ Л. УЛИЦКОЙ «МЕДЕЯ И ЕЕ ДЕТИ» 76 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA гаковского Азазелло, «падшего ангела» (Азазель), научившего мужчин искусству войны, женщин тайнам обольщения и украшения, с этим связан мотив блуда между ангелами – «сынами божьими» – и «дочерьми человеческими» («Книга Еноха»). В талмудической литературе Азазель отождествляется с сатаной или Самаэлем (Мифологический словарь 1990, с. 29). Самуил в романе находит комплимент для каждой женщины, от- крывает Медее ее собственную красоту, как демон – Маргарите. В романе М. Бул- гакова одно из воплощений Азазелло – медицинская сестра (профессия Медеи). В версии Улицкой мистериальный брак персонажей предваряет тяжелая болезнь каждого и следующее за ней просвет- ление. Могила Мендeса означена серебряной звездой, в которой одновременно вопло- тились пентограмма, «звезда Давида» и рождественская звезда: «звезду Медея несколько переосмыслила, выкрасив серебрянкой заодно и острие, на которой она была насажена, отчего та приобрела шестой, перевернутый луч и напоминала рождественскую, как ее изображали на старинных открытках, а также наводила на другие ассоциации» (Улицкая 2005, с. 18). В структуре текста важно, что древнейшее изображение гексограммы указывает на Астарту – ночную Венеру как перевернутую (падающую) звезду, символизирует единство мужского и женского начал (Женщина в легендах и мифах 1992, с. 41). Природный аналог гексограммы – та же лилия, цветок с шестью лепестками. Чертами астартиз- ма маркированы образы сестры Медеи Сандры и ее дочери Ники, переживших множество любовных приключений (блудницы). Фигура Медеи, облаченная в черные одежды, с головой, повязанной черной шалью, с характерной челкой – реплика в сторону А. Ахматовой, как ее видели художники начала ХХ века (Блок, ув- леченный софиологией В. Соловьева, К. Петров-Водкин, Н. Тырса). Интере- сно, что в романе учтены и литературные приоритеты Анны Андреевны, называв- шей Библию, тексты Данте и Шекспира важнейшими для понимания мира. Ме- дея, чье лицо к старости «напоминало красивую лошадиную морду» (Улицкая 2005, с. 34), черпающая мудрость из гар- монии самой природы, ассоциируется и с фигурой Б. Пастернака, в позднем твор- честве которого разрабатывается поэтика органики. Образ, положение героини в белом халате медсестры «в крашеной раме регистрационного окна поселко- вой больнички» напоминает «какой-то ненаписанный Гойей портрет» (Улицкая 2005, с. 6), в основе живописи мастера – принцип сочетания противоположно- стей, игра света и тени, чувственности и трагизма, важнейший в художественном мире Улицкой. Черная шаль, характер- ные находки Медеи («ведьмино кольцо» из девятнадцати совершенно одинаковых по размеру грибов, «золотой перстень с помутившимся аквамарином» и «боль- шая перламутровая камея без оправы»), отчетливо инфернализированы. Знак камеи указывает на демоническую геро- иню Т. Толстой – Аду из рассказа «Соня», черное платье девяностолетней старухи украшает большая камея, «на камее кто- то кого-то убивает: щиты, копья, враг изящно упал» (Толстая 2006, с. 13). В со- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 77 ответствии с димиургической функцией Софии, Медея хранит в древнем сундуке сценарии человеческих судеб: «Вся окру- га, ближняя и дальняя, была известна ей, как содержание собственного буфета» (Улицкая 2005, с. 6). Женские истории в романe строятся с учетом основных гендерных стерео- типов эпохи fin de siècle, отличающейся особым интересом к идеям софиологии (Вл. Соловьев, С. Булгаков, П. Флорен- ский, отчасти В. Розанов). Время рубежа ХIХ – ХХ веков читает философию жен- ского в следующей типологии: женщина как сексуальный объект (цыганка, блуд- ница); роковая женщина-вамп (амазонка, Соломея); романтическая возлюбленная, муза (Мадонна, Вечная Женственность) (Грякалова 2008, с. 97). В романе этой типологии соответствует и цветовая символика образов: черная – алая – белая героини. Женскую иерархию возглавляет «бе- лая мышка Нора», чей сюжет маркирован историей героини Г. Ибсена «Кукольный дом». Улицкая «дописывает» знаме- нитого норвежца, ее Нора оставляет кукольную жизнь в «умышленном» Пе- тербурге, обретает подлинную любовь. Героиня изображается исключительно на возвышенности, в ее облике акцен- тированы детскость, особая невинность души, Нора сидит «на маленьком склад- ном стульчике», рисует «на каком-то детском мольберте», фактически ничем не отличается от своей дочери: «обе были светловолосые, обе в косынках, в длинных цветастых юбках и одинаковых кофточках с карманами» (Улицкая 2005, с. 19). Женщина окружена «розово-лило- вым тамариском», напоминает младенца на руках Богородицы из видения Медеи. С Хозяйкой Нору роднит дар художе- ственного восприятия бытия, во время вечерних чаепитий она сидит рядом с Медеей, обликом напоминая «немецких средневековых мадонн» (Улицкая 2005, с. 107). Норе и дано мистическое зрели- ще – змея, сбрасывающая кожу. В мифо- логии гностиков змея, способная лечить и убивать, сбрасывающая кожу как годы, есть символ познания человеком самого себя, добра и зла. В древних мистериях змея обозначает процесс «перевоплоще- ния, метемпсихоза, потому что ежегодно скидывает кожу, проявляясь всякий раз в новом теле» (Холл 1994, с. 312). Здесь же, на вершине горы, Нора встречается с Георгием, повторяется история Данте и Биатриче, Егория и Софии. Дом героев, построенный «еще выше Медеиного», функционально и атрибутивно повторяет прежнее жилище: «Летняя кухня очень похожа на Медеину, стоят те же медные кувшины, та же посуда. Нора научилась собирать местные травы, и так же, как в старые времена, со стен свисают пучки подсыхающих трав» (Улицкая 2005, с. 252). В пурпурных цветах изображаются судьбы Сандрочки и «густорозовой» Ники. История первой – коллаж из сюже- тов Татьяны Лариной, Элен Л. Толстого (близость змее, как и в оригинале, под- черкнута через «звуковой код», героиня говорит, «крепко нажимая на букву «ч»), Муму И. Тургенева и соблазнитель- ницы Яси/Лилит из рассказа Улицкой «Сонечка». Сандра – человек внешних эффектов, одевальщица-декоратор при знаменитостях, «обожающая блеск» и «блестящие связи». Одновременно, Н. Ковтун. ИНТЕРТЕКСТУАЛЬНАЯ ИГРА В РОМАНЕ Л. УЛИЦКОЙ «МЕДЕЯ И ЕЕ ДЕТИ» 78 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA как и Медее, ей присущ талант Хозяй- ки, царственность: «через понтийских мореходов она получила, вероятно, каплю царской крови, почетное родство с теми царицами, всегда обращенными к зрителю в профиль, которые пряли шерсть, ткали хитоны и выделывали сыр для своих мужей, царей Итаки и Микен» (Улицкая 2005, с. 118). Она, в соответствии с христианской транскрип- цией мифа о Софии, мать трех дочерей, носящих знаковые имена: Ника, Лида, Вера (последняя напоминает Нору, «все по-мышиному шуршала бумагой»), и сына – погибшего Сергея как несосто- явшегося Победоносца. В судьбе Сандры иронически от- ыграна история пушкинской Татьяны, вышедшей за генерала замуж. «Блестя- щие связи» героини Улицкой с совет- скими военноначальниками, однако, не выглядят губительными, напротив, любве обильный нрав и соответствую- щая репутация девушки освобождают ее душу от всех покушений государства: «со временем этот невинный недостаток так развился, что посягательства всяче- ских идеологических миссионеров от РЛКСМ, ВЛКСМ и прочих на ее душу закончились сами собой» (Улицкая 2005, с. 74). Символ восхождения есть и в этой судьбе – «ореховая горка», буфет, рестав- рация которого заканчивается браком Хозяйки и мастера. Муж Сандрочки – краснодеревщик Иван Исаевич – бук- вально обожествляет избранницу, легче верит в «непорочное зачатие», чем в явные факты ее «грешной» биографии. В свой черед героиня одухотворяет «малость деревянного» возлюбленно- го, приспосабливает для супружеской жизни, венец которой – строительство загородного дома. Союз Александры и Ивана Исаевича, видимо, ироническая отсылка к образу А. И. Солженицына, описавшего бытие русской бабы по аналогии с Житием («Матренин двор»). Все достоинства и недостатки ма- тери в образе ее дочери Ники находят предельное выражение. По следняя атрибутируется как «крылатая» богиня, карнавальный образ Медеи-мстительни- цы, улетающей на конях или драконах. Розовые оттенки, свойственные жен- щинам Синопли, приобретают здесь театральную насыщенность, на Нике «грубомалиновое платье» или платье «цвета йода». Если Сандра декорирует актрис перед выходом на сцену, то ее дочь носит маскарадные костюмы в повседневности, в глазах художников aссоциируется с «фаюмским портре- том», напоминающим древнеегипетские погребальные маски. Художник «долго чуть не со слезами разглядывал ее, при- говаривая: “Какое лицо… Боже, какое лицо… фаюмский портрет”» (Улицкая 2005, с. 139). Отличительной чертой названной живописи считают обилие позолоты, яркость образов, их особую пластичность, восходящую к античным традициям. В мифологии масонов Земля Египта – пространство «низа», страстей, где дети Израилевы (12 колен) держа- лись в плену и были выведены Моисеем (просвещенным умом), поднятием мед- ной змеи (Холл 1994, с. 278). «Блестящие связи», которыми гордилась мать, Ника превращает в «опасные связи», выступая достойной дочерью Самуила, за которым маячит тень Азазель (булгаковского Аза- зелло). Соблазн становится искусством I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 79 Ники, ее миссией, волшебством, она «за- нималась любимым делом обольщения, тонким, как кружево, невидимым, но осязаемым, как запах пирога от горячей плиты, мгновенно заполняющий любое пространство. Это была потребность ее души, пища, близкая к духовной, и не было у Ники выше минуты, чем та, ког- да она разворачивала к себе мужчину» (Улицкая 2005, с. 109). Брак красавицы с богатым негоциантом-итальянцем за- кольцовывает историю рода Синопли, возвращает к истокам, к мифу о Ясоне и биографии деда – купца Харлампия, владельца четырех судов. Предельным выражением энергии Эроса служит в романе образ амазонки Розки, цирковой наездницы. В самом имени героини зашифрован символ ваги- ны. Роза – древнейший знак плодородной силы, «материнской тайны творения» (Холл, 1994, 336). Девушка награждена «черными пружинистыми волосами», «короткими красными ногтями», одета в красную рубаху, появляется из «бар- хатной черноты» конюшни, носится на «высоком черном жеребце» (Улицкая 2005, с. 102). Дорогу к ней указывают «только красные и багровые астры, целиком ушедшие в цвет и не имеющие никакого аромата» (Улицкая 2005, с. 101). Обликом новая амазонка напоми- нает «маленького кудрявого мальчишку», «наглую цыганку», когда смеется «по- вурдалачьи выпирают вперед верхние клычки» (Улицкая 2005, с. 105). Белые грязные джинсы наездницы, капли воды в ее волосах – знаки «затонувшей жемчу- жины», поруганной Красоты, которую и призван спасти Художник. Центральный гностический миф повествует о «душе, которая утратила свою целостность и превратилась в шлюху» (Афонасин 2002, с. 206). Отношения Розки и Бутонова профанируют символику Персея и Анд- ромеды. Женщина оставляет в постели возлюбленного цепочки: «он вынул из переворошенной постели порванные золотые цепочки, соскользнувшие но- чью с ее шеи» (Улицкая 2005, с. 105), и затем исчезает, ускользая от власти мужа – «страшного цыгана». Героиня и посвящает Бутонова в искусство стасти, открывает «целый материк» – обетован- ную землю любви. Прямой противоположностью огнен- ной Розки явлена «лунная» Маша – внуч- ка Сандры: «Эта хрупкая, сероглазая де- вочка совсем не их породы», – признает бабка (Улицкая 2005, с. 134). Облик Маши словно непроявлен, как «переводная кар- тинка», слепок с фотографии ее матери Татьяны, «отражение отражения». В героине акцентируются детскость, черты андрогинности («остриженная под маль- чишку», «тонкая, острая, как мальчик»), предрасположенность к мистике: «от раннего прикосновения к темной бездне безумия в ней остался тонкий слух к мистике, чуткость к миру и художест- венное воображение – все то, что создает поэтические склонности» (Улицкая 2005, с. 137). Если судьбы женщин Синопли подсвечены мифологией избранных пространств Колхиды, Итаки, Эдема, то линия Маши изначально связана с «пло- хим местом», домом генерала, где царят страх, сумасшествие. Здесь жить нельзя, но можно калечиться, умирать. Гиблые пределы и нужно пройти/преодолеть как переиграть собственную смерть – по ночам к Маше является сошедшая с ума Н. Ковтун. ИНТЕРТЕКСТУАЛЬНАЯ ИГРА В РОМАНЕ Л. УЛИЦКОЙ «МЕДЕЯ И ЕЕ ДЕТИ» 80 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA жена генерала, функционально и атри- бутивно напоминающая Пиковую даму. В роли чудесных проводников девушки по «аду» выступают Ника, Сандра, муж Алик и ночной ангел. Героиня с детства привыкает к помощи «толмачей», даже спит, взяв кого-нибудь за руку. Ее отно- шения с мужем – травестийная версия мифа об Орфее и Эвридике – Алик не успевает увезти жену из России и не в состоянии освободить ее от ночных кошмаров, власти ада. Отсутствие полноты отличает поэ- зию самой Маши, она «писала то стихи, то неопределенные тексты, как будто вырванные из разных авторов. Своего голоса у нее не прорезалось, и влекло ее в разные стороны – то к Розанову, то к Хармсу» (Улицкая 2005, с. 210): «Стихи выходили на нее, как звери из лесу, совершенно готовыми, но всегда с каким-то изъяном, с хромотой в задней ноге, в последней строфе» (Улицкая 2005, с. 238). Трагедия девушки – в исключительном доверии к букве; сопри- косновение с тайной, страстью приводит к болезни и смерти. Интеллектуалку Машу близкие и воспринимают как «недоростка», недоросля, объекта чужой игры. Любовь героини к Бутонову офор- млена по законам «мыльной оперы», приобретает «кинематографический охват и одновременно кинематографиче- скую приплющенность» (Улицкая 2005, с. 142). Отношения персонажей цитатны, включают варианты мифа о Нарциссе, мотивы трагедий Шекспира (в образе Маши отзеркаливают черты Офелии и Отелло), «Евгения Онегина» Пушкина (героиня пытается разгадать возлюблен- ного по обстановке его загородного дома, оформленного Никой; пишет любовные письма, стихи). В судьбе Бутонова очевиден архаи- ческий след Нарцисса, жертвами кра- савца выступают то нимфа Эхо (отсюда несамодостаточность голоса Маши), то юноша Аминий, заколовшийся от любви (героиня сравнивается то с мальчиком, то с кинжалом). В древних культурах нарцисс почитается цветком мертвых, это цветок, который, согласно мифу, ранее был человеком или мог вырасти только вследствие смерти человека, от- сюда власть Бутонова, награжденного «чудовищным тайным самолюбием», фатальна. Герой, обладая исключитель- ным телесным даром, к области духа «оказался совершенно чужд». Только прикосновение к нему вызывает у Маши острую аллергическую реакцию, как от прикосновения к металлу – «железному человеку» соцреализма, напоминает укус змеи, что убила Эвридику. Героиня Улицкой – жертва неверной трактовки дискурса, она взывает к романтическому возлюбленному, а перед ней плакатный образ «настоящего человека», супермена массовой литературы. Женские персонажи в романе объеди- нены символикой змеи, кошки и амазон- ки, означающих как низшую астральную силу (кошка), так и универсальную мудрость (змея). Если судьбу человека в истории определяет сражение с Дра- коном/Государством, то путь души – «схватка с Ангелом», отсылающая к сюжету пророка Иакова – ключевому для понимания творчества Улицкой в целом (Ковтун 2012). Только победите- ли обретают собственный голос и дом. Ангел является Елене и Медее, разговор I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 81 последней с Богом, «смесь давно выт- верженных молитв и ее собственного голоса, живого и благодарного…» (Улиц- кая 2005, с. 169). Пафос победительниц заложен в этимологии имен Сандры и Ники, только Маша в ночных полетах с ангелом пользуется не собственной «умной силой», а «заемной, от учителя»: «она подчинялась его воле с наслажде- нием и старанием» (Улицкая 2005, с. 240). В результате героиня оказывается в раздоре с миром и самой собой: «Как будто их было две: Маша дневная, спо- койная, ласковая, приветливая, и Маша ночная – испуганная и затравленная» (Улицкая 2005, с. 135). Завершение судь- бы девушки, вышедшей из ночного окна, парафраза к идее набоковского Лужина, перешагнувшего из настоящего в веч- ность. После смерти жены Алик издает сборник ее стихов, книга – аналог дома как жилища духа. Земля, выписанная в романе по ана- логии с женской телесностью, должна быть открыта/возделана мужчиной. Успешность путешествия героя зави- сит от его способности увидеть/спасти Красоту. Функции мужских персона- жей ассоциируются с архетипическими образами Орфея, Персея, Пигмалиона, Прометея и Одиссея, совершающих свои подвиги во имя Красоты (Бальбуров 2003, с. 146–150). В этой же парадигме фигура Егория Храброго. Сын Елены Георгий – «приверженец семейной ми- фологии» (Улицкая 2005, с. 108), храни- тель истории семьи, наследник Медеи: «У них было много общего: оба были подвижны, легки на ногу, ценили при- ятные мелочи и не терпели вмешатель- ства в их внутреннюю жизнь» (Улицкая 2005, с. 21). В чертах героя угадываются приметы Прометея, создателя «жалкого рода людей», их учителя и заступника (Мифологический словарь 1990, с. 443): «Георгий, вовсе не ставя перед собой никаких педагогических задач, из года в год давал всем детям своей родни ни с чем не сравнимые уроки жизни на земле. От него перенимали мальчики и девочки язычески точное и тонкое обращение с водой, с огнем, с деревом» (Улицкая 2005, с. 62). Место пребывания героя, как и мифологиче ского персонажа, Кавказские горы. Прометей, однако, не смог вдохнуть в собственные творения душу, это сделала мудрая дева Афина, атрибутируемая змеей, впервые в миро- вой культуре отождествленная с Софией. Любимцем Афины был Одиссей, черты которого угадываются в образах Медеи и Георгия, она же покровительствовала Ясону (Женщина в легендах и мифах 1992, с. 45-47). В романе Георгий наделен знаковой профессией – геолог как исследователь/ читатель самой земли, толмач мудро- сти, сокрытой в ее толще (за видимым пределом букв). Его новосибирский приятель – председатель колхоза Тара- сов (аллюзия на героя одноименного рассказа Б. Екимова) – страдает по подковным гвоздям – ухналям, ассо- циируясь с Гефестом. Облик Георгия подчеркнуто брутален, отмечен «явной мужественностью», его атрибутируют знаки «универсального солдата» – сапер- ная лопатка, нож, «шляпа из солдатского среднеазиатского комплекта» (Улицкая 2005, с. 17). Нора видит избранника то «римским легионером», то хитроумным Одиссеем, в котором жив дух путешест- Н. Ковтун. ИНТЕРТЕКСТУАЛЬНАЯ ИГРА В РОМАНЕ Л. УЛИЦКОЙ «МЕДЕЯ И ЕЕ ДЕТИ» 82 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA венника, игрока, напоминающий прадеда Харлампия: «он любил покупать, ему нравилась вся эта игра в выбор, в тор- говлю, в добычу» (Улицкая 2005, с. 38). Цветовое решение образа строится на контрасте белого и красного, отсылает к символике Победоносца. «Двойником» Георгия становится муж «лунной» Маши – интеллектуал Алик, история которого в иронической проекции воспроизводит булгаковские сюжеты о демонической профессуре, экспериментирующей с живой материей («Роковые яйца», «Собачье сердце»). Алик, эмигрировавший в Америку, откуда в повести Булгакова и привозят яйца анаконд, «стал американским ака- демиком и, того и гляди, осчастливит человечество лекарством от старости» (Улицкая 2005, с. 252). Миниатюрный Алик, который и взрослым покупал себе одежду в «Детском мире», в семь лет «читал неотрывно тяжеленные тома “Всемирной истории”, в десять увлекся астрономией, потом математикой», бук- вально усваивает «грамоту из воздуха» (Улицкая 2005, с. 202). Его поступление в институт «представляло собой сра- жение с пятиглавым драконом», были посрамлены «мехматовские наемники», на сочинении дружескую руку абитури- енту протянул сам Александр Сергеевич, «тема “Ранняя лирика Пушкина” каза- лась Алику подарком небес» (Улицкая 2005, с. 203). Интересно, что в самом романе действующие лица структури- рованы с учетом персонажей поэта, чью руку Улицкая с улыбкой приняла. Отец Алика – хорошо образованный филолог, «но жизнь затолкала его в такой угол, где он с благодарностью редактировал воспоминания полуграмотных маршалов минувшей компании» (Улицкая 2005, с. 205), то есть озвучивал выступления буратин, марширующих по сцене исто- рии. Из этого пространства «угла» Алик и должен найти выход. Его отъезд загра- ницу «требовал решимости, мужества или отчаяния», окружающие сравнивают поступок героя с исходом евреев: «Чер- мное море опять разъяло свои воды, что- бы пропустить избранный народ если не в Землю обетования, то по крайней мере прочь из очередного Египта» (Улицкая 2005, с. 213). Восхождение Алика на уче- ный Олимп совпадает, однако, с гибелью жены и разрывом с матерью, остающейся в России. Если красавец Бутонов – во- площение идеального тела, то Алик – рационального ума, к чувственной стихии, «огню жизни» он оказывается глух, сама природа наградила его весьма скромными мужскими достоинствами, что рождало «невозможность зайти в школьную уборную» (Улицкая 2005, с. 205). Если Георгий оставляет «трухля- вую кучу бумаги» – диссертацию – в Академгородке как ложную высоту и перебирается на прародину, к Медее, то Алик выбирает наградой не Красоту – Нобелевскую премию. Единственный вид, что открывается из треугольника «медеиного сортира», инициальная точка, для него потерян. Студенческие увлечения героя, «легкие соединения в бельевой, в ординаторской, в смотро- вой были столь же непринужденны, как ночные чаепития, и имели оттенок медицинской простоты» (Улицкая 2005, с. 205). По сути, такое поведение близко нарциссизму Бутонова, воспринимаю- щего женщину как спортивный снаряд I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 83 или «домашнее животное». Интересно, что в одно из свиданий Бутонов выходит к Маше в медицинской шапочке, напо- миная Алика. Образ атлета Бутонова строится на пересечении нескольких дискурсов, здесь иронически сочетаются элементы архаических мифов о Нарциссе и Пер- сее, советская мифология «настоящего человека»: «он все более приближался к собирательному облику строителя ком- мунизма, известному по красно-белым плакатам, нарисованным прямыми ли- ниями, без затей» (Улицкая 2005, с. 89), черты православных сказаний о демо- нических (хтонических) силах. Героя называют «зверюгой», любовь к нему сравнивается с беснованием, его судьба изначально отмечена признаками недо- стачи, ущербности. Родовой дом стоит на окраине Москвы, в Расторгуево, место пользуется дурной славой, строение «приземисто», «давно грозит развалить- ся» (Улицкая 2005, с. 84). Ребенок «отца не помнит», его главная забава – игра в нож, когда мишенью выступают стены родной избы: «Старый материнский дом, и без того ветхий, был весь в шрамах от его мальчишеских упражнений» (Улиц- кая 2005, с. 84). Мальчик, мечущий нож, иронически сравнивается с покорителем мира: «все, царства и города, разыгры- ваемые на вытертой площадке позади автобусной станции, он брал своим ножом легко и весело, как Александр Македонский» (Улицкая 2005, с. 84). Обладая неограниченными возмож- ностями в горизонтальном движении, Бутонов, однако, не видит вертикаль, все «прочитанные книги забывавший бесследно и навсегда» (Улицкая 2005, с. 96), он не понимает знаков судьбы. Пределы обитания героя – спортивная арена, цирк как перевернутые простран- ства, где успехи легко оборачиваются поражением, взлет – падением. В логике шутовства существует и само госу- дарство: «во многих отношениях цирк был совершенно таким же, как прочие советские учреждения – склад, баня или академия» (Улицкая 2005, с. 88). Соот- ветственно, и проводниками Бутонова по миру-балагану выступает всякого рода «нечисть»: тренер с сомнительной репутацией – прожженный спортивный волк; «немолодой циркач смутной крови из цирковой династии, с внешностью коробейника, но с итальянским именем Антонио Муцетони» (Улицкая 2005, с. 89) и специалист по шпионским иг- рам – «мелкий, неказистый человек из КВЖДистов, с маскировочной фамилией Иванов, с темным и извилистым прош- лым» (Улицкая 2005, с. 96). В Крыму Бутонов останавливается в доме Ады (адском пространстве), в иконные пределы усадьбы Медеи попа- дает под покровом ночи через окно, как и положено нечистому. От героя исходит «каменная сила» истукана, даже в любви «он не чувствовал ни малейшего вдох- новения, но привычка добросовестного профессионала обязывала» (Улицкая 2005, с. 145). Его отношения с сестра- ми – Никой и Машей – суть повторение интриги рассказа Т. Толстой «Соня» (дуэт Ады и Сони), когда на любовные письма одной предложено отвечать дру- гой: «Тебе надо, ты и пиши, – буркнул Бутонов. Ника захохотала – предложе- ние показалось ей забавным» (Улицкая 2005, с. 217). В версии Т. Толстой герой предстает дамской выдумкой, игрой букв, фантомом, и только высокая любовь Н. Ковтун. ИНТЕРТЕКСТУАЛЬНАЯ ИГРА В РОМАНЕ Л. УЛИЦКОЙ «МЕДЕЯ И ЕЕ ДЕТИ» 84 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Сони (воплощенной Души) обеспечива- ет шутовской истории высоту античной драмы. Интересно, что в отличие от предшественницы, Улицкая буквально «оживляет» марионетку, черты вымыш- ленного Николая воплощены в коллеге Бутонова по цирковой работе – упавшем и оставшемся парализованным акроба- те. Дописывая историю, автор «Медеи» делает героя талантливым массажистом, буквально спасшим прикованного к постели Муцетони – собственную тень. Бутонов как специалист по позвоночни- ку – божественному древу в человеке, функционально сближается с Медеей и Георгием, на что указывает преобладание белого и розового в цветовом решении образа. Судьбу героя венчает строитель- ство дома в Расторгуево и рождение сына, «в которого беспредельно влюблен», как Нарцисс в собственное отражение. Если архетипом женских образов в романе выступает София Премудрость, то для мужских персонажей ключевым является образ Мастера-строителя, возводящего храм/Вселенную во имя Красоты. В масонских доктринах смерть Мастера от рук врагов, представляемых как государство, официальная церковь и сброд (Холл 1994, 274–275), всякий раз оборачивается гибелью народа, лишен- ного пристанища. Подтверждение этой закономерности автор видит в истории пленения евреев, русской революции, войнах в Афганистане и Чечне. На уров- не личной судьбы убийцами Мастера выступают невежество, предрассудки и страх. Героиня Улицкой «мудрая Леноч- ка» в мистическом сне видит Отца и он же – архитектор Шинарарян, «строитель армянских храмов» (Улицкая 2005, с. 31), предсказывающий гибель семьи и судьбу девочки. По мужской линии рода Сино- пли, от деда Харлампия, членам семьи передается «страсть к строительству». Свой дом дано возвести Самуилу Мен- дeсу и Георгию как приют для близких и дальних. Литовский племянник Медеи – Гвидас-громила (отсылка к сюжету царя Гвидона) «построил дом, развел большое строительство» (Улицкая 2005, с. 42), и только в доме Бутонова «было прохлад- но – дом тепла не держал» (Улицкая 2005, с. 230). В маскарадных пределах государства дом как единство близких людей принципиально невозможен, лю- бое строительство оборачивается ямой, котлованом или «палатой № 6». Дед Маши «генерал Гладышев построил за свою жизнь столько военных и полувоен- ных объектов, столько орденов получил на свою широкую и короткую грудь, что властей почти не боялся», «боялся он только своей супруги Веры Ивановны» (Улицкая 2005, с. 123), мастерски «за- пускающей скандалы», в собственной квартире хозяин старался не бывать. Итак, мир в романе выстроен по вертикали и горизонтали, пересечение крымских гор с морской гладью образует оптический крест, средоточием которого является усадьба Медеи, расположен- ная, «где завивалась складка земли», «в паху». Изображение отсылает к знаку Братства pозенкрейцеров (близкому масонству) – розе, распятой на кресте, крест утвержден на постаменте с усту- пами. Есть мнение, что в «Божественной комедии» Данте этот символ «впервые опубликован открыто и сопровождается почти полным объяснением» (Холл 1994, с. 503–507). Вокруг дома Медеи «проис- ходит движение миров, звезд, облаков и овечьих отар» (Улицкая 2005, с. 36). На I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 85 уровне микромира коническая гора – символ единства человеческой природы, нижней, средней и верхней частей тела, дух же открывается в сердцевине пира- миды (Холл 1994, с. 256). Путь духовного мужания требует от героев умения читать знаки судьбы, навыков герменевтического анализа, ибо сокровенный смысл постигается «за временем», «за текстом», освобождаясь из плена букв, как воинов, выросших из зубов Дракона (миф о Ясоне). И если судьба древнего мира отдана в руки Софии Премудрости, то современная история пишется интеллектуалами/ мужчинами. Любимая чашка Медеи «тяжелая и нескладная», «темно-сине- красная, в потеках запекшейся глазури, шершавая, слишком декоративная для ежедневного пользования» (Улицкая 2005, с. 35) – прообраз глобуса, верхняя часть которого оказывается у будущего нобелевского лауреата – Алика: «Алик в тот год получил в подарок от жены ко дню своего рождения большую белую чашку, на которой с синими буквами было написано: «И будет так: ты купишь фрак, а я – вечерний туалет, король про- слушает доклад, а после даст банкет» (Улицкая 2005, с. 211). Автором обеих чаш явилась Ника – Победительница. Составленные воедино, чаши образуют Орфическое яйцо вселенной, в эзотери- ческой доктрине высшее индивидуальное достижение состоит в том, чтобы раско- лоть Орфическое яйцо, что эквивалентно возвращению духа к плероматическому единству (Холл 1994, с. 199–200). Движение вглубь, за пределы страниц и букв осуществляется как разгадыва- ние текстов, проводниками читателя выступают авторы мировой литературы, живописи, кино, приоритетно творче- ство тех, кто особое внимание уделил тайне Вечной Женственности во всех ее проявлениях и ипостасях. Обыгрывая гностический миф о мире как результа- те ошибки эона Софии, автор признает право на заблуждение и за персонажами; ее «инфернальницы» всегда ярче, инте- реснее добродетельных особ, которым, в свою очередь, дан шанс проявить ми- лосердие. Храм вселенной, отстроенный мастерами, без Души не стоит, оказыва- ясь удручающе холоден, пуст и скучен, пригоден для буратин, не для людей. Литература АФОНАСИН, Е., 2002. Античный гности- цизм. Фрагменты и свидетельства. Санкт-Пе- тербург: Издательство Олега Абышко. БАЛЬБУРОВ, Э., 2003. Поэтическая фи- лософия русского космизма. Новосибирск: Издательство СО РАН. БОЛОГОВА, М., 2010. Современная русская проза. Проблемы поэтики и герменевтики. Монография. Новосибирск: Новосибирский государственный университет. БЫЧКОВ, В., 1999. 2000 лет христианской культуры. В 2 т. Т. 2: Славянский мир. Древняя Русь. Россия. Москва, Санкт-Петербург: Уни- верситетская книга. ГРОМОВ, М., 1988. Образ Софии Прему- дрости в культуре Древней Руси. In: Отечест- венная общественная мысль эпохи Средневе- ковья. Историко-философские очерки. Киев: Наукова думка, 114–119. ГРЯКАЛОВА, Н., 2008. Человек модерна: Биография – рефлексия – письмо. Санкт-Пе- тербург: Дмитрий Буланин. Женщина в мифах и легендах, 1992. In: Энциклопедический словарь. Ташкент: Главная редакция энциклопедий. ЙОНАС, Г., 1998. Гностицизм (Гностиче- ская религия). Санкт-Петербург: Лань. Н. Ковтун. ИНТЕРТЕКСТУАЛЬНАЯ ИГРА В РОМАНЕ Л. УЛИЦКОЙ «МЕДЕЯ И ЕЕ ДЕТИ» 86 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA КОВТУН, Н., 2005. Русская литературная утопия второй половины ХХ века. Томск: ТГУ. КОВТУН, Н., 2009. Софиологическая пара- дигма в творчестве Т. Толстой (на примере рас- сказа «Соня»). Литература, № 51 (2), 90–100. КОВТУН, Н., 2012. Игра как способ миро- постижения в повести Л. Улицкой «Веселые похороны». Литература. [In print] МАРКОВА, Е., 1997. Творчество Николая Клюева в контексте севернорусского искус- ства. Монография. Петрозаводск: Карельский научный центр РАН. Мифологический словарь, 1990. Москва: Советская энциклопедия. НИЦШЕ, Ф., 1992. По ту сторону добра и зла. К генеалогии морали. Минск: Беларусь. РУЖМОН, Д., 1998. Любовь и Запад. Новое литературное обозрение, № 31, 52–73. ТОЛСТАЯ, Т., 2006. Река Оккервиль. Сбор- ник рассказов. Москва: Эксмо. ТРУБЕЦКОЙ, Е., 1993. Два мира в древ- нерусской иконописи. In: Философия русского религиозного искусства XVI-XX вв.: Антология. Москва: Прогресс, Вып. 1, 220–247. УЛИЦКАЯ, Л., 1992. Сонечка. Новый мир, № 7, 61–89. УЛИЦКАЯ, Л., 2005. Медея и ее дети. Москва: Эксмо. УЛИЦКАЯ, Л., 2005. Казус Кукоцкого. Ро- ман. Москва: Эксмо. УЛИЦКАЯ, Л., 2008. Даниэль Штайн, пе- реводчик. Москва: Эксмо. ХОЛЛ, М. П., 1994. Энциклопедическое изложение масонской, герметической, каббали- стической и розенкрейцеровской символической философии. Санкт-Петербург: Спикс. Natalia Kovtun Siberian Federal University, Russia Research interests: 20th and 21st century Rus- sian literature, poetics, the utopian ideology metagenre, modern traditionalist prose THE INTERTEXTUAL GAME IN ULITSKA- YA’S NOVEL MEDEA AND HER CHILDREN Summary This article attempts to present a reading of Ulits- kaya’s novel as a metatext of world culture, as an encrypted message through which the author inveigles “a shrewd reader” into the guessing of discourses (from ancient mythology to works of social realism and postmodernism) in order to detect traces of the initial scenarios proposed to humanity by the Creator. The conceptual basis of the work was the myth of Sophia Wisdom Divine, an artist painting the primary blueprint of the universe and inviting other artists to co-create (the muse and the artist). Ulitskaya’s Sophiology is based on the ideas of the Russian modernists, e.g., Soloviev and Block. The Greek story of Medea—the daughter of King Aeëtes of Colchis and wife of Jason, who headed the expedition of the Argonauts—provides the basic structure of the novel. This myth is one of the most popular in the world among artists. Its interpretive options (from Euripides and Ovid to Anouilh, Pasolini and Petrushevskaya) are evidence for the unity of the text of culture. The novel, then—the ironical statement of the author to enter into the circle of the elect, the family of Medea, whose image is highlighted by signs of Sofia—is the embodiment of style. Medea’s manor is “the navel of the earth” in which the outlines of the Masons are traced; here, time and space, living and dead, sinners and saints converge. The earth itself is read like a book. All the characters are divided into puppets— unable to understand the hidden meaning of the text—and directors/demiurges—artists, musi- cians, and doctors who write the history of dolls. The typology of female images is constructed on the gender stereotypes of the fin de siècle era: the woman as a sexual object (Gypsy, wanton); femme fatale/vamp (Amazonian, Salomé); and the roman- tic lover and muse (Madonna, the eternal feminine). The functions of the male characters are associated with Orpheus, Perseus, Pygmalion, and Ulysses, who perform their feats in the name of Beauty. The mission of the reader is to pass the initiation of the plot and guess all its variations with the power of letters resembling dragon’s teeth, to detect in these traces of meaning the “Golden Fleece,” much as Medea who led Jason to such a purpose. KEY WORDS: Ulitskaya, Medea and Her Children, intertextuality, Sophia Wisdom, master, the Gnostic Code. Gauta 2012 05 01 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 87 Mindaugas Grigaitis Vilniaus universitetas Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas Muitinės g. 8, LT-44280 Kaunas, Lietuva Tel.: +370 674 952 18 El. paštas: mindaugas_grigaitis@yahoo.com Moksliniai interesai: literatūros teorijos, literatūros filosofija, kultūros studijos, literatūros antropologija TRANSGREDIENCIJOS RAIŠKA BRONIAUS RADZEVIČIAUS NOVELIŲ RINKTINĖJE LINK DEBESIJOS Straipsnio objektas – Broniaus Radzevičiaus novelių rinktinė „Link Debesijos“. Lietuvių prozininko novelės analizuojamos remiantis rusų literatūrologo Michailo Bachtino transgredi- encijos teorija. Ši teorija vertinama kaip teorinis kompromisas, leidžiantis sujungti tradicinės, subjektyvumą ginančios kritikos nuostatas su postmodernia autoriaus mirties idėja. Teorinėje straipsnio dalyje pristatoma M. Bachtino transgrediencijos teorija, aktualizuojama žmogaus kaip patirties visumos idėja, apibūdinamas bachtiniškasis estetinės žiūros iš tos patirties kūrimo kelias. Daugiausia gilinamasi į rusų mokslininko autoriaus ir herojaus santykį, apibrėžiamos transgrediencijos, išoriškumo, vidinio pasaulio kategorijos, įvardijamos transgrediencijos sąlygos ir jos pažeidimo situacijos. Analizuojant B. Radzevičiaus kūrinius, tiriama, kaip juose skleidžiasi transgrediencija, kaip meninės visumos kūrimo procese dalyvauja autorius, kokių transgrediencijos pažeidimų galima rasti Radzevičiaus novelėse. Sąmoningai pasirenkama Radzevičiaus proza, kurioje itin intensyviai koreliuoja kalbos ir patirties impulsai. Manoma, kad transgrediencijos teoriją geriausia perteikti taikant ją tų autorių tekstams, kurie ne tik sulydo patirtį ir kalbą, bet ir jaučia patirties reprezentavimo kalba ribas. Radzevičius yra vienas tokių autorių, tačiau dažnai, susižavėję jo kalbos valdymo talentu, kritikai nepastebi, kad tekstas, kaip kalbos dėsnių valdoma struktūra, ima sakyti daugiau nei autorius norėjo. Tyrime parodoma, kad šalia novelių, kur transgrediencija pasiekiama, Radzevičiaus rinktinėje „Link Debesijos“ dažnai galime aptikti situacijas, kai autorius nesuvaldo savo intencijų bei patirties: jis arba kalbą paleidžia stichiškai tekėti patyrimų trajektorijomis, arba kalbėjimui nori suteikti iš anksto numatytą prasmę. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: Michailas Bachtinas, Bronius Radzevičius, autorius, herojus, estetinė žiūra, transgrediencija, meninė visuma. Būti ar nebūti postmodernizmui? Kalbėti apie literatūrinį postmodernizmą šiuolaikiniame lietuvių literatūriniame diskurse yra vis dar madinga, bet kartu ir pavojinga, nes akivaizdi šio reiškinio refleksijos inercija: jis tiek apaugęs prielai- domis ir prietarais, kad apie konceptualią diskusiją kol kas kalbėti sunku. Išsikal- bėjimas vyksta straipsnių, pranešimų, pasisakymų lygmeniu ir apsiriboja savo pozicijos išsakymu bei gynyba, tad nė iš tolo neprimena lyotardiškosios kalbėjimo žaidimų koncepcijos. Iš paskirų pasisakymų 88 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA galime apgraibomis diagnozuoti: vieniems terminas postmodernizmas yra parazitas1, kitiems – priešnuodis prieš apkerpėjusios tradicijos parazitus2, tretiems – praėjęs reiškinys, kurį mes pavėluotai griebiamės adoruoti, norėdami būti madingi3. Reflek- tuojant lietuvių literatūrinio postmoderniz- mo reiškinį, sunku kalbėti apie konkrečius „įtakingiausius“ ir reprezentatyviausius lietuvių mokslininkų tekstus, kurie galėtų būti diskusijos atramos tašku4. Pastebimas beveidžio postmodernizmo puolimas: „Post modernizmas tiesiog nebepakanka- mas, nes ši kategorija apglobia tik tai, kas naujausia, kas labiausiai atitrūksta nuo tra- dicijos arba ryžtingiausiai ją neigia <...>“ (Sprindytė 2006, p. 33). Keisčiausia tai, kad tokios diagnozės daromos akcentuojant tik vieną aspektą – masinės kultūros įsigalėji- mą. Vartotojiškumo plitimas sutapatinamas su plintančia individualios sąmonės bei visuomenės fragmentacija ir tampa centrine prielaida visą postmodernizmą, neatsižvel- giant į jo įvairovę, „nurašyti“ kaip tradiciją griaunančią ir naikinančią ideologiją5. 1 Taip kalbas apie postmodernizmą vertina Arvy- das Šliogeris (Ruzas 2008, p. 214). 2 Žr. straipsnį „Postmodernizmas ir kitos literatū- rologijos baimės“ (Grigaitis 2006). 3 Toks įspūdis susidaro skaitant Dalios Satkausky- tės straipsnį „Postmodernizmas kaip konjunktūra“ (Sat- kauskytė 2008). 4 Filosofijoje, be abejo, reikėtų išskirti Audro- nės Žukauskaitės straipsnius bei studijas. Literatūros moksle verta paminėti Eugenijaus Ališankos knygas Vaizdijantis žmogus (1998), Dioniso sugrįžimas (2001), bet ir jose apsiribojama daguiau aprašomuoju požiūriu ir reliatyvumo, subjekto mirties, Dioniso stichijos aksio- mų deklaracijomis. Pirmiausia jose galima pasigesti po- leminės dvasios, nes kalbėjimas apie postmodernizmą kaip tokį, nekuriant mokslinės diskusijos su konkrečių mokslininkų tekstais, ir kuria postmodernizmo refleksi- jos anemiją. Apie tokios diskusijos stygių socialiniuose ir humanitariniuose moksluose dar 2003 metais rašė Al- gimantas Valantiejus (Valantiejus 2003). 5 J. Sprindytė (2006), aptardama pirmojo nepri- klausomybės dešimtmečio prozos tendencijas, „meta“ Tendencingai negatyvus fragmentacijos, segmentacijos ir dekonstrukcijos elementų vertinimas itin paaštrėja, kai liečiamas kitas „tradicinių pažiūrų“ kritikos skaudulys – subjekto mirties problema6. Subjekto arba žmogaus mirtis, kurią skelbė Michaelis Foucault ar Roland’as Barthesas (autoriaus mirties pavidalu), yra pirmiausia individualizmo pabaigos skelbi- mas. Kaip pažymi Julia Kristeva, tradicinis subjekto suvokimas ateina iš kartezianis- tinės filosofijos ir yra paremta Husserlio transcendentalinio ego idėja, kuri veda prie išvados, kad kalba yra paties subjekto susi- kurtas ir valdomas tikrovės reprezentavimo įrankis (Kristeva 1986, p. 27). Subjektas čia suvokiamas kaip stabilią tapatybę turinti bū- tis, savo transcendentalumu gebanti veikti virš kalbos ir net virš istorijos. Postmodernaus mąstymo bendra tenden- cija – ne tiek neigti, kiek keisti tokią subjek- to sampratą. Ir keitimas vyksta skirtingomis kryptimis vis kitoje teorijoje: tarkim, jeigu dekonstrukcija ten, kur buvo subjektas, palieka besubjektę vietą, Kristevos teorija siūlo subjekto rekonstrukciją per jo kalbi- nės veiklos analizę (Kristeva 1986, p. 16). Lietuvių literatūriniame diskurse ne pirmą tokį kaltinimą postmodernizmui: „<...> kai literatūra apie 1995 m. grįžo į normalias raidos vėžes ir galėjo tapti pati savimi, pasirodė, kad pasaulyje grožio mitas nepaklausus, čia jau seniai dominuoja antiestetiniai, de- konstrukciniai, postmodernūs ir kiti panašūs reiškiniai <...> Įsigali pragmatinė-hedonistinė pasaulėvoka, es- mingai keičianti egzistencinį santykį su kultūra (ir savo būtimi)“ (p. 272–273). Atrodo, kad neigiant postmoder- nizmą kaip tokį siekiama susikurti patogesnį mąstymo apie literatūrą kontekstą: paskelbus postmodernizmo pabaigą, būtų patogiau rekonstruoti „normalias literatū- ros vėžias“ ir jai padėti „tapti savimi“. 6 „Ar negaliu, sakykim, žodžio „postmodernizmas“ pavadinti katastrofišku vien todėl, kad, kaip kalbėjau, jis naikina patį žmogiškumo branduolį, o sykiu ir daiktų centrą?“ – tokiu retoriniu klausimu postmodernų požiūrį į žmogų „pasmerkia“ Arvydas Šliogeris (Daujotytė ir kt. 2009). I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 89 dešimtmetį nuolat atsikartojantys bandymai neigti postmodernizmą kaip tokį, nesigili- nant į atskirų teorijų niuansus, atrodo kaip bandymas išsisukti nuo sudėtingų postmo- dernizmo artikuliacijų. Šiame straipsnyje, remiantis Bachtino transgrediencijos teorija, bandoma parodyti vieną iš „subjekto išsaugojimo“ literatūros suvokimo procese galimybių, neabsoliuti- nant pačios subjekto kategorijos. Lietuvių literatūros kritikoje ši teorija nesulaukė kon- ceptualesnio žvilgsnio ir yra užmiršta kaip seniena. Tačiau ji gali tapti kompromisine gija, gelbstinčia mokslinę refleksiją tiek nuo konservatyvaus dogmatizmo, pasireiš- kiančio atkaklia kanonų gynyba, tiek nuo stereo tipinių subjekto mirties deklaracijų. Šios teorijos taikymo galimybės bus paro- domos analizuojant Broniaus Radzevičiaus novelių rinktinę Link Debesijos. Bachtinas ir / vs postmodernizmas Bachtino santykis su postmoderniomis teo- rijomis nėra vienareikšmis. Postmodernios fragmentacijos ir segmentacijos idėjos iš pirmo žvilgsnio nesutaikomos su dialogiš- kumo ir integralumo koncepcijomis, kurias siūlo Bachtinas. Kita vertus, poliglosija ir polifonijos sampratos buvo artimos daugy- biškumu ir pliuralumu paremtai postmo- derniai mąstysenai. Liudmila Bulavka ir Aleksandras Buzgalinas, aptardami post- modernizmo santykį su Bachtino teorija, akcentuoja jų skirtumus: jeigu postmoder- nizmas atmeta „aš“ kaip subjektą, jis kartu eliminuoja ir „kitą“ kaip subjektą, todėl dialogas, kuris yra kertinis bachtiniškosios mąstysenos akmuo, tampa nebeįmanomas (Bulavka, Buzgalin 2006). Tačiau minėti kritikai ignoruoja postmodernizmo teorijų įvairovę: kai kurios iš jų (kaip Kristevos intertekstualumo teorija) tiesiogiai pritaikė Bachtino idėjas7, o kitos pasinaudojo pasiū- lyta idėja, kad komunikacija yra valdoma ne pačių subjektų, bet kalboje slypinčių objektyvių formų, kurios ir yra persmelktos dialogiškumo: „Kultūrinės ir literatūrinės tradicijos (įskaitant ir senąsias) yra išlaiko- mos ir tęsiasi ne subjektyvios atskirų indi- vidų atminties ir ne kažkokios kolektyvinės „psichės“ dėka, bet greičiau objektyviom formom, kurias įgyja pati kultūra (įskaitant literatūrinės ir šnekamosios kalbos formas), jos yra intersubjektyvios (taigi socialios); iš čia jos ateina į literatūrą, kartais beveik visiškai apeidamos subjektyvią jų kūrėjų atmintį“ (Bakhtin 1981, p. 249). Viena ver- tus, tokia mintis suponuoja nepostmodernią idėją, kad subjektas nėra sunaikinamas, nes jis išlieka kaip patirtis, kuri gali įsikūnyti kalboje, bet tas įsikūnijimas yra ne jo esmės realizacija ar stabilios tapatybės atkūrimas ir įtvirtinimas, bet laikinas pavidalas, kuriame subjektas gali pajusti pats save kaip kitą8. Taigi Bachtino griežtai atriboti nuo postmo- dernios mąstysenos tikrai negalima. Kalba jam yra esminis dėmuo, kuriame „aš“ gali sutikti „kitą“. Aš ir kitas niekada nėra atsieti tiek, kad negalėtų komunikuoti, bet tam, kad aš / kitas galėtų suvokti vienas kitą, būtina į save žvelgti iš šalies. Kitaip sakant, būtinas savęs suišorinimas. Bachtino teorijoje tokie situacija yra vadinama transgrediencija. Kaip jau minėta, lietuvių kritikoje transgrediencijos teorija plačiau netaikyta. Vakarų humanitarinių mokslų diskurse ši teorija dažniausiai aptariama bendrame 7 Žr. Kristevos straipsnį “Word, Dialogue and Novel” (Kristeva 1986, p. 34–61). 8 Šios idėjos reminiscencijas (skirtingais varian- tais) galima aptikti ne tik Kristevos, bet ir Bartheso, Derrida ir Foucault teorijose, kur kalba yra suvokiama kaip subjektui nepavaldi ir jį konstruojanti metastruk- tūra. M. Grigaitis. TRANSGREDIENCIJOS RAIŠKA BRONIAUS RADZEVIČIAUS NOVELIŲ RINKTINĖJE 90 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA žmogaus ir kultūros suvokimo lauke. Kaip pažymi Gregas Nielsenas, transgrediencija reiškia, kad kultūros elementai jungiasi vienas su kitu ir taip keičia vienas kitą (Nielsen 1998, p. 215). Vienas žymiausių „bachtinologų“ Michaelis Holoquistas ak- centuoja, kad „transgrediencija pasiekiama, kai kitų egzistencijos visuma yra matoma iš šalies ne tik jiems nežinant, kad jie yra kieno nors suvokiami, bet ir nežinant, kad toks [iš šalies suvokiantis – M. G.] kitas apskritai egzistuoja“, tačiau perspėja, kad negalima suišorinimo absoliutinti, nes bus praran- dama komunikacijos galimybė: „niekada „aš“ negali būti visiškai transgredientiškas kitam gyvenančiam subjektui, nei jis ar ji gali būti visiškai transgredientiški man“ (Holoquist 2002, p. 32–33). Jenniferė De Peuter pamini, kad transgrediencija yra ribų peržengimas, kurią įvykdžius, „kitų balsai tampa lygiaverčiais dialogo su savimi par- tneriais“ (De Peuter 1998, p. 38). Šiame straipsnyje pasirenkama kiek ki- tokia strategija. Atsižvelgus į tai, kad „savęs įforminimo“ procese Bachtinas privilegiją teikia meno kūriniams, transgrediencijos teorija čia pirmiausiai analizuojama kaip literatūros kūrinio suvokimo būdas. Lite- ratūros kūrinio kūrimo ir suvokimo atveju išeidamas iš savęs subjektas turi atsiriboti nuo savęs kaip patirties visumos ir savęs signifikavimo procese privilegiją suteikti kalbai. Literatūros procese transgredienci- jos situacija yra sudėtingesnė nei kultūros ar žmogaus suvokimo kontekstuose, nes lite- ratūroje veikia sudėtingi ryšiai tarp kalbos, autoriaus, herojaus ir skaitytojo. Transgrediencija kaip estetinės veiklos reglamentas Bachtinas literatūroje (ir kituose menuose) prasmes generuojančią „jėgą“ įvardija nepostmodernia, net labai tradicine sąvoka „žmogus“: „Žmogus yra konkretus este- tinio objekto architektonikos vertybinis centras; <...> tai estetinės žiūros sąlyga <...>“ (Bachtinas 2002, p. 110). Šiai sąvokai suteikiama kitokia prasmė nei humanis- tinėje tradicijoje. Žmogus nėra konkretus subjektas, jis yra patirties visuma, kuri dėl to, kad yra betarpiškai įsitraukusi į savo veiklą, savęs kaip visumos suvokti negali. Subjektyvumas, arba egzistencinė patirtis, yra kuriančioji prielaida, bet kuriančioji energija tenka kalbai, kurioje žmogus, pats savyje esantis neaiškus, neapibrėžtas ir ne- turintis suvokiamos prasmės, išeina į erdvę ir laiką9, kurie ir suteikia tapatumo pojūtį pačiam kuriančiam subjektui. Kad laikas ir erdvė taptų estetiniais modusais, būtina transgrediencija10. Erdvė Bachtinui yra susijusi su kūno suišorinimu: „Poetas išorę, estetinę erdvi- nę herojaus bei jo pasaulio formą sukuria naudodamasis žodine medžiaga; estetiškai įprasmina ir pateisina jo vidinę beprasmybę bei išorinį pažintinį faktiškumą, padaro juos meniškai reikšmingus“ (Bachtinas 2002, p. 202). Laikas estetinėje plotmėje yra mano vidinio gyvenimo objektyvizacija: „Kitą visada matau kaip objektą, jo išorinis pavi- dalas – erdvėje, jo vidinis gyvenimas – lai- 9 Bachtinas laiką ir erdvę vadina „betarpiškos tik rovės forma“, kitaip sakant, jose žmogus tampa iš- orišku, matomu ir patiriamu pačiam sau. Taigi laikas ir erdvė įformina betarpišką vidinę tikrovę. 10 Terminas „transgredientiškas“ literatūros suvo- kimo procese reiškia, kad autorius kaip žmogus, esantis betarpiškame santykyje su daiktais ir savimi, turi „mir- ti“, t. y. išeiti iš savęs: jis turi vadovautis ne asmeninėmis intencijomis, bet kalba, kuri, kurdama meninę visumą, autorių kaip žmogų išstumia iš jos. Jis yra energija, bet ne konkretus subjektas: „Transgredientiškumas – būtina sąlyga, kad skirtingi kontekstai, susikuriantys apie kelis herojus (ypač dažnai taip būda epe), būtų susieti vienin- game formaliame (estetiniame) vertybiniame konteks- te“ (p. 91). I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 91 ke. Aš, kaip subjektas, niekada nesutampu su savimi: kaip savimonės akto subjektas, aš peržengiu šio akto turinio ribas; ir tai ne abstrakti įžvalga, o intuityviai išgyvenama, patikimai kontroliuojama galimybė išnirti iš laiko, iš visos jau esamos duoties, kurioje akivaizdžiai neišgyvenu savęs viso <...>“ (Bachtinas 2002, p. 216). Kadangi „kitą“ aš regiu visą erdvėje, kartu matau ir jo veiksmus bei vertinu po- elgius: ir šis mano vertinimas formuoja jo vaizdą. Estetinėje plotmėje tas kitas ir esu aš pats: čia mano kūnas įgyja erdvines, vidinis gyvenimas – laikines ribas, o visas mano pasaulis – reliatyvų visuminį vaizdą, kuris ir yra vadinamas tapatybe arba identitetu. Taigi laikas ir erdvė meno kūrinyje yra suišorintas vidinis pasaulis: tai tam tikras srautas įvykių, kurie jungiasi į vientisą vaizdinį, formuojantį kažką kita nei „aš“, herojų, įveikiantį mano nesugebėjimą savęs patirti viso. Transgrediencija suponuoja sąmoningą rašančio subjekto atsiribojimą nuo kuriamo pasaulio, kad patirtis įgytų laiko ir erdvės modusus ir taptų juntama ir suvokiama, kitaip sakant, kad galėtų vykti dialogas. Jeigu bus prisirišama prie savo vidinio pasaulio, vyks tik monologas: ko- munikacija bus negalima, nes rašymas bus tik savo pozicijos išdėstymas. Taigi subjektas kūrinyje išlieka kaip pa- tirties energija, bet tos patirties įgyta forma, t. y. kūrinyje realizuota subjekto tapatybė, yra laikina ir reliatyvi, būdinga tame tekste sukurtam herojui. Bet jokiu būdu ne auto- riui kaip žmogui. Autorius Bachtinui yra pamatinis patirties virsmo į estetinę formą procesą organizuojantis elementas11, tačiau 11 Bachtinas rašo: „Prozai, kad būtų išbaigta ir taptų išbaigtu kūriniu, reikia pasitelkti estetinę kūrybinio in- divido – autoriaus – veiklą, ji turi atspindėti užbaigtą jo kūrybos įvykį, kadangi iš savo grynosios, nuo autoriaus žmogui nėra tapatus: „autorius nėra išgy- venanti siela, ir jo reakcijos nėra pasyvus jausmas ar recepcinė pagava, autorius – tai vienintelė aktyviai formuojanti energija, kylanti ne iš psichologiškai suprantamos sąmonės, o pasirodanti nekintamai reikš- mingame kultūros produkte <...>“ (Bach- tinas 2002, p. 115–116). Autorius, žmogų kaip estetinės žiūros sąlygą pavertęs kon- krečiu objektu, – herojumi, atitrūksta nuo „išgyvenančios sielos“ ir yra (ar bent jau turėtų būti, jeigu siekiama estetinės žiūros realizacijos) transgredientiškas sukurtam herojui: „<...> pagrindinio produktyvaus autoriaus santykio su herojumi formuluo- tė – tai įtempto autoriaus transgrientiškumo santykis visų herojaus aspektų atžvilgiu, erdvinis, laikinis, vertybinis ir prasminis transgredientiškumas <...>“ (Bachtinas 2002, p. 121). Taigi autorius nėra atskira žmogiška būtis – tai patirties energiją su kalbine energija sinchronizuojantis ir per kalbos organizavimą laikiną subjekto tapatybę iš patirties amalgamos materiali- zuojantis principas. Nepasiekus reikiamo transgredientišku- mo, neįveikiamas betarpiškumas ir meninis pasaulis negali būti užbaigtas. Bachtinas išskiria tris transgredientiškumo „pažeidi- mus“: 1) herojus užvaldo autorių; 2) auto- rius užvaldo herojų; 3) herojus tampa savo paties autoriumi. Pirmuoju atveju estetinė pozicija baigiasi filosofiniu traktatu arba išpažintimi-sau. Antruoju atveju autorius- žmogaus-herojus tarsi susilydo į vieną vi- sumą ir svarbiausia autoriui yra realizuoti iš anksto parengtą ideologinį principą. Bachti- nas išskiria du tokio užvaldymo variantus: pirmasis – pseudoklasicistinis nebiografinis atsietos prasmės vidaus ji negali rasti jokių išbaigiamų- jų, architektoninę tvarką suteikiančių aspektų“ (Bachti- nas 2002, p. 89). M. Grigaitis. TRANSGREDIENCIJOS RAIŠKA BRONIAUS RADZEVIČIAUS NOVELIŲ RINKTINĖJE 92 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA herojus, antrasis – romantinis, t. y. herojus, kuriam svarbiausia pristatyti savo jausminę patirtį kaip esminę estetinę vertybę. Herojui tapus savo paties autoriumi, pasak Bachtino, tekstas paklūsta heroizacijai: svarbiausia herojui – išaukštinti save. Taigi transgrediencijos teorijoje sub- jektas pripažįstamas kaip beiškeičianti ir nuolat naujai – pagal kalboje slypinčias objektyvias komunikacines formas (pagal Bakhtin 1981, p. 249) – save įforminanti patirtis, bet atsiribojama nuo tapatybės stabilumą deklaruojančios subjektyvistinės filosofijos ideologiškumo, kuris būdingas metafiziniam požiūriui į literatūrą. Estetinė žiūra, pasiekusi transgredienciją, patirtį ištraukia iš betarpiškumo, išlaikydama ryšį su egzistencine patirtimi, bet jai suteikda- ma laikiną formą ir tik konkretaus teksto apibrėžtyse. Nepasiekus transgrediencijos, arba pasiliekama vidiniame betarpiškume ir nepajėgiama savęs suišorinti, arba prisiglau- džiama prie tradicijoje vyraujančių idėjų kaip reglamentuotų savivokos formų, ir kūrinys ima reprezentuoti bei ginti autoriaus ideologiją. Abiem atvejais komunikacija nevyksta, nes vyksta tik monologas, kuris reprezentuoja ideologiją. Holoquisto žo- džiais, „kai transgrediencija yra naudojama tinkamai, ji užsibaigia menu, kai naudojama netinkamai, ji baigiasi totalitarizmu“ (Ho- loquist 2002, p. 33). Kodėl Radzevičius? Broniaus Radzevičiaus kūryba – sudė- tingas ir prieštaringas reiškinys lietuvių literatūroje. Kaip jau esu minėjęs, vyrauja egzistencialistinis požiūris į šio autoriaus kūrybą12. Tačiau Radzevičiaus kūryba, pasižyminti išskirtine pastanga sinchroni- 12 Plačiau žr. Grigaitis 2011. zuoti kalbos ir patirties energijas, leidžia mums aiškiau reflektuoti tradicijos ir postmodernybės santykius, aktualizuojant transgrediencijos – kalbos ir patirties ener- gijos atribojimo – teoriją. Radzevičius, be abejo, nebuvo postmodernus rašytojas, bet viena yra autoriaus nuostatos, kita – paties teksto siūloma perspektyva. Asmeninės patirties intymumas turi ribas, jis ištirpsta, kai kažkur kalboje įvyksta patirties ir kalbos energijų atsiribojimas, kurio metu, išlaiky- dama dalį patirties energijos, subjektą ima konstruoti ne autoriaus intencija, siekianti pagal jo norą reprezentuoti patirtį, bet pati kalbos energija. Subjektyvių intencijų realizacijos ribų pajutimas ir tų intencijų išsižadėjimas, leidžiant kalbai veikti laisvai, ir yra transgrediencijos įgyvendinimas, ribų nebuvimas – totalitaristinė žiūra. Radze- vičiaus novelių rinktinėje Link Debesijos balansuojama tarp šių dviejų polių: nuo transgrediencijos iki autoriaus dingimo žmogaus vidiniame betarpiškume. Transgredientinės strategijos novelėse Straipsnio apimtis verčia daryti novelių atranką. Siekiant parodyti, kaip transgredi- encija veikia rinktinėje Link Debesijos, bus plačiau analizuojamos novelės „Praradimo aidai“, „Naktį“ ir „Moteris“, kuriose, jun- giant atskirus teksto elementus į visumą, yra sukuriama įtaigi estetinė žiūra. Novelėje „Praradimo aidai“ centre yra vaikystės kaimo chronotopas. Kaip ir bū- dinga Radzevičiaus kūriniams, pasakojama apie iš kaimo kilusį vyrą, kuris gyvena mies- te. Kaip vėliau bus parodyta, prisiminimų apie kaimą absoliutinimas ir miesto destruk- tyvumo akcentas Link Debesijos novelėse labai dažnai įkalina autorių vidiniame betar- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 93 piškume ir kalbą paverčia neaiškių jausmų iškalbėjimo įrankiu. „Praradimo aiduose“ miestas herojui nėra egzistenciškai atgra- sus. Autorius, nubrėždamas paralelę tarp įprastų (Radzevičiaus kūryboje) opozicijų kaimas / miestas, sukuria transgrediencijos prielaidą. Patirtis krypsta ne viena kryptimi (į praeitį), kurioje visi išgyvenimai apraizgo kalboje slypinčias objektyvias formas ir estetinę žiūrą paverčia hipertrofuotai psi- chologizuotu kalbėjimu. Šalia kaimo besi- ilginčio aš atsiranda ir miesto nesmerkiantis kitas. Novelė ir kuriama kaip dialogas tarp šių dviejų patyriminių subjektų. Pradžioje vyriškis sėdi miesto bibliote- koje ir skaito įvairius filosofinius veikalus: „Jis, dvidešimt dvejų metų vyriškis, sėdėjo prie atviro bibliotekos lango, užsivertęs ap- zulintais foliantais – tai buvo įvairių amžių ir šalių filosofijos veikalai. Ten, giliame betono kieme, palei pilkas apsilupinėjusias sienas, džiūvo skalbiniai, augo rudeninės šviesos medžiai: liepos, klevai, kupro- tas, sulikęs berželis“ (Radzevičius 1984, p. 269–270). Aiškiai fiksuojant aplinkos detales, apibūdina fizinė erdvė, kurioje vei- kia herojus. Taip kalba tarsi pririšama prie „materialios tikrovės“, kuri ir garantuoja, kad kalbėjimas nevirs tik sentimentalia išpažintimi. Erdvės, o kartu ir subjektų, susidvejinimas įvyksta išgirdus bokšto laikrodį. Intensyvinama herojaus atmintis, kuri išplečia erdvės ribas: per vaizduotę pasakojimas iš miesto perkeliamas į vai- kystės kaimą – prisimenama gimtoji trobelė. Atminty iškyla, kaip visa šeima sėdi prie vakarienės stalo. Čia pasigirsta kitas – ne- aiškaus ilgesio persunkto subjekto – balsas: „Panašus baugumo ir vienatvės jausmas sėlino į jo sielą ir dabar“ (p. 271). Atrodo, kalba prisiderina prie neaiškių vidinio pasaulio būsenų ir, praradusi konkretumą, ima judėti paskui hipertrofuotai ilgesio įaudrintos sąmonės ritmus. Bet staiga vėl sugrįžtama į čia ir dabar: „Kai vėl pakėlė akis nuo knygos lapų, nutviekstų geltona šviesa, pamatė link suoliuko einančią balta suknele apsirengusią merginą <...> Priešais šnarėjo fontanas, gelsvos rudeninės šviesos šlaminami mirgėjo beržo lapai, o jų šešėliai neramiai spurdėjo ant vėstančio grindinio“ (p. 271). Fiksuojant daiktus, kuriamas de- talus erdvės vaizdas, kuris ištraukia kalbą iš abtrahuojančios rezignacijos. Novelę kuria dviejų balsų dermė: prisiminimų subjektas kalba neaiškiais jausmais, kalbą paversdamas abstrakčiais samprotavimai, bet autorius, aprašydamas materialios tikrovės detales, sukuria kito balsą, kuris pirmąjį subjektą grąžina į kon- krečią erdvę. Jausminiam kalbėjimui daiktai suteikia konkretumo, ištraukia jį iš vidinės begalybės, o jausmingumas „kalbėjimui daiktais“ suteikia subjektyvios patirties spalvas ir padeda išlaikyti tvarų meninės visumos statinį. Antroje novelės pusėje laikas dar labiau sudvejinamas: herojus ateina į kavinę, kurioje sėdėjo ir prieš penkiolika metų. Keičiasi miesto forma – jauki kavinukė (taigi miestas ir toliau nekelia atgrasos), bet vis dar blaškomasi tarp „jausminio“ ir „daiktinio“ kalbėjimo: iš kavinukės vėl keliaujama į vaikystės kaimą (prisimenami miškai, ežeras, šulinys), po to vėl įvedamas moteriškumas (pasidaro skaudu, kad šalia nėra kažkada mylėtos merginos). Erdvėlai- kių kaitoje intensyvėja ilgesys, išprovokuo- damas neartikuliuotais jausmais persunkto kalbėjimo pliūpsnį: „Kaip ir tąsyk jo siela buvo kupina slapto ilgesio <...>“ (p. 272); „Tačiau jis žinojo, kad tos trobos nebėra, M. Grigaitis. TRANSGREDIENCIJOS RAIŠKA BRONIAUS RADZEVIČIAUS NOVELIŲ RINKTINĖJE 94 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA žinojo, kad užako šulinys, užžėlė žole takas prie ežero <...>“ (p. 273); „Nesutramdomo skausmo sugeltas, jis skubiai užvertė kny- gas <...>“ (p. 274). Kaip ir prieš penkiolika metų, viskas paženklinta praradimo jausmo ir neaiškumo, todėl kyla įspūdis, kad dar kartą atgaminama rezignacija, kuri šįkart negrįžtamai novelę paskandina abstrak- čios kalbos sraute. Bet autorius išlaviruoja sudėtinga trajektorija ir herojų ištraukia iš beribės rezignacijos: dar kartą grįžtama prie konkrečios tikrovės detalių, kurios išsklaido abstraktumą ir kalbėjimas lieka neužgožtas psichologizuotos išpažinties: „Indų skambesys, aptarnaujančių merginų juokas, mediniai ilgi nupoliruoti stalai, trepsėjimas tarpdury, sugrubusios rankos, besišildančios prie dirbtinio židinio – visa tai jam labai patiko“ (p. 275). „Praradimo aiduose“ vaikystės kaimas yra prasminės visumos centre, bet jis neuž- gožia kitų elementų. Novelėje beveik fiziš- kai juntama, kaip skirtingais erdvėlaikiais įvairiomis kryptimis juda patirtis. Prisimi- nimų išprovokuoti neaiškūs jausmai, besi- kėsinantys abstrahuoti kalbėjimą ir novelę paversti asmenine išpažintimi, dinamiškai keičiasi su konkrečių erdvėlaikių aprašymu. Šie du kalbėjimo būdai, pereidami vienas į kitą ir vienas kitą papildydami, leidžia išlaikyti transgredienciją ir dėlioti užbaigtą, estetiškai įtaigią meninę visumą, kurioje žmogaus sąmonės dinamika ir takumas objektyvizuojami konkrečiame herojuje. „Praradimo aiduose“ gana aiškiai juntamos dviejų balsų ribos ir nesunkiai apčiuopiami kiekvieno iš jų pasažai. No- velėje „Naktį“ išskleidžiama sudėtingesnė transgrediencijos situacija: „Jau kelintą kartą ji ropščiasi iš plačios, aukštos se- nobiškos lovos, stoviniuoja prie lango, paskui pasiima šaukštelį ir geria valerijono lašus – jų kvapu, salstelėjusiu, gaižiu, visa čia dvokia; tarsi šmėkla plačiais naktiniais vėl sustoja prie lango. Daugelis miesto šviesų jau užgesusios <...> uniformuotas restorano durininkas čia pasirodo plačiuose laiptuose, išlydėdamas svečius, čia vėl įeina į vidų, iš kur protarpiais pasigirsta čaižios melodijos. <...> Anksčiau iš to restorano tokiu metu su draugais išvirsdavo jos sūnus <...> Gal ir šiąnakt jis ten“ (p. 228–229). Jeigu „Praradimo aiduose“ dviejų kalbėji- mo būdų kaita aiškiai buvo kontroliuojama abstraktaus / konkretaus santykio, čia trans- grediencija pasiekiama labai koncentruotu kalbėjimu, kuris yra organizuojamas įtampą ir laukimą konkretizuojant detaliu moters kūno ir minčių judėjimu. Fiksuojant, kaip juda kūnas ir mintys, pirmoje pastraipoje iškeliamas kontrastas tarp savo ir kito pasaulio: lova – tai savo kambario detalė, suponuojanti asmeninę erdvę, palangė – riba, kurioje išeinama į kitą, tamsaus miesto, pasaulį – anonimišką, nesaugų ir neaiškų. Taigi jau pradžioje moteris vaizduojama bent dviejuose skirtinguose laikuose (lau- kimas / naktis) ir erdvėse (kambarys / mies- tas). Šias erdves yra apgobęs nerimas (raminamieji valerijono lašai) ir laukimas (negrįžta sūnus). Herojė atrodo sustingusi laukimo būsenoje, tarp savo kambario ir svetimo miesto. Detaliais aprašymais stabilizuotas laiko ir erdvės plokštumas išjudina traukinio garsas: „Stotyje klyktelėjo traukinys... Gardinas... Smolenskas... Pskovas... – pa- skelbė per ruporą stoties budinčiojo balsas, žadindamas atmintyje kitas naktis, juodas, pilnas laukimo, su išvykstančių traukinių bildesiu, su žalsvomis ir rausvomis signa- linėmis švieselėmis viršum besikryžiuo- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 95 jančių bėgių“ (p. 250). Su traukinio garsu įsijungia prisiminimų chronotopas, kuris intensyvina herojės sąmonę – laukimas naktyje susijungia su prisiminimais to, kas buvo: iškyla santykiai su vyru, kuris dirbo traukinio kūriku, jo išdavystė, išdavystės išprovokuotos draugių apkalbos, atgamina- mas vaikystės kaimas: „Ir tada ji galvodavo apie savo namus, pasilikusius toli, kaime. Tada dar visa jos pasaulyje buvo nutvieksta dulsvos šilto vasaros vakaro šviesos, tačiau kažkur horizonte jau telkėsi debesys – artėjo karas“ (p. 231). Sukuriamas dviprasmis įspūdis. Viena vertus, herojė tampa matoma iš kelių pers- pektyvų: egzistencinėje erdvėje (laukimas, skausmas), socialinėje (santykiai su vyru, draugių apkalbos), istorinėje (artėja karas). Atrodo, subjektas atveriamas kaip polifo- niška, daugiabalsė būtis, besiskleidžianti keliose plokštumose ir tų plokštumų for- muojama. Tačiau kartu pradedamas justi transgrediencijos silpnėjimas, nes pasakoji- mas ima panėšėti į monotonišką biografiją, kai iš atskirų egzistencijos plokštumų gana mechaniškai klijuojamas gyvenimo visu- mos vaizdas. Tačiau moters gyvenimo istorija – tai tik pirmasis novelės planas. Jis prasilenktų su transgrediencija, jeigu nebūtų susijęs su likimu. Išdavystė, persikėlimas į miestą, karas suponuoja likimo chronotopą. Trans- grediencija novelėje „Naktį“ ir pasiekiama ne derinant skirtingus balsus (kaip „Prara- dimo aiduose“), bet į centrą iškeliant likimo chronotopą: nei vienas iš moterį ištikusių įvykių nėra priklausomas nuo jos pačios. Likimas, pasak Bachtino, pats savaime yra transgredientiškas, nes nepaklusnus jokiam subjektui. Be abejo, likimo vyksme slypintis transgredientiškumas gali būti nesunkiai pažeidžiamas leidžiantis į filosofinius sam- protavimus apie likimo nepalenkiamumą ar mazochistišką skausmingų patirčių išvieši- nimą. Novelėje „Naktį“, į meninę visumą integruojant likimo chronotopą, nekrentama į transgredientiškumą pažeidžiančius kraš- tutinumus. Autorius, iš pradžių įviliojęs į kalbėjimą, primenantį gana monotonišką biografinio-išpažintinio gyvenimo istorijos pasakojimą, meninę visumą leidžia dėlioti pačiai kalbai iš vienas kitą papildančių įvykių grandinės, valdomos likimo: „Visi svarbiausi jos gyvenimo įvykiai dėjosi nak- tį. Naktį <...> ją surėmė gimdymo skausmai <...> Naktį traukinio ratų sutraiškytą atnešė jos vyrą. Naktį ji pastebėjo, kad sūnus neprimato kairiąja akim. Naktį numirė jos draugė Karolina. Naktį jai pranešė, kad jos sūnus iššoko iš ketvirto aukšto ir susilaužė abi kojas“ (p. 231). Tačiau biografinį pasakojimą pagilinus ir transgredienciją sutvirtinus likimo chro- notopu, pasakojimas nebaigiamas. Lova– palangė–miestas–restoranas–prisiminimai atrodė kaip rituališkai besikaitaliojantys erdvėlaikiai, kurie vis naujai atgimdavo kiekvieną naktį, kai ji laukdavo grįžtančio sūnaus. Jie tarsi buvo sukūrę bent sąlygišką (kad ir skausmingą) stabilumą, bet likimas dar kartą viską sujaukė – iš jos atėmė net ir laukimą. Moteris sužino, kad jos sūnus nužudė žmogų: „Bet tik šios nakties ji laukia su baime, tik dabar, kai nebėra ko laukti...“ (p. 234). Toks pasakojimo šuolis ne tik suponuoja egzistencinę situaciją, kad žmo- gus negali valdyti likimo, bet turi didžiulę svarbą ir pasakojimo struktūrai: subjektą jis įtvirtina kaip kalbiniame sraute susiku- riantį naratyvą, valdomą ne tiek subjektyvų nuostatų, kiek iš likimo transgredientiškumą perėmusios kalbos. M. Grigaitis. TRANSGREDIENCIJOS RAIŠKA BRONIAUS RADZEVIČIAUS NOVELIŲ RINKTINĖJE 96 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Novelėje „Naktį“ subjektyvi patirtis nėra herojės reflektuojama, siekiant pre- tenzingai ją įprasminti (tai buvo juntama „jausminio balso“ „Praradimo aiduose“), nei ji, nei autorius tam, kas patirta, nesiekia suteikti filosofinio svorio ar neginčijamos prasmės. Teksto subjektas čia įsupamas į kalbinę medžiagą ir ši medžiaga regu- liuoja subjektyvumo sklaidos trajektorijas. Čia nėra visas reikšmes uzurpuojančio, iš agresyvios autoriaus intencijos kylančio prasmės projekto. Novelėje „Naktį“, pa- sitelkus transgrediencijos organizuojamą pasakojimą apie moters likimą, žmogaus egzistencinių aspektų polifonija tampa išo- riškai matoma tos moters personaže. Novelėje „Moteris“ patirčių sklaidos krypčių – taip pat daug. Šią novelę aptarti verta pirmiausia dėl to, kad tai vienas iš nedaugelio Radzevičiaus kūrinių, kuriuose vyras ir moteris pasilieka kartu. Dažniausiai bendrumas tarp vyro ir moters Radzevi- čiaus tekstų subjektams yra nepasiekiama idealybė, kurios trūkumas išreiškiamas sentimentalios kalbos šuorais ar abstrakčiais filosofiniais samprotavimais. „Moteryje“ transgrediencija išlaikoma ir aplink mo- ters / vyro santykius sukuriama užbaigta meninė visuma. Novelė pradedama vyro klausimu: „Tai gyvensim kartu, ką?“ (p. 199), tačiau mo- teris bijo atsakyti – ji prisimena visus kitus kartus, kai buvo palikta: „Taip ir būdavo: jie pasisukdavo ir atsisveikinę išeidavo. Tai kas, kad, likusi viena, apsipildavo ašaromis niekas jų nematė, verkdavo įsikniaubusi <...> Taip, buvo daug tokių paryčių kaip šis.“ (p. 200). Vis tik nedrąsiai moteris sutinka su vyro pasiūlymu: „<...> beveik be garso pasakė „taip“. Dabar gali jis nusi- gręžti, gali išeiti – niekas daugiau nuo jos nepriklauso“ (p. 200). Novelė balansuoja tarp dviejų moters balsų: vienas yra besi- viliantis, kad vyro siūlymas yra nuoširdus, o kitas – nuolat bijantis, kad tai dar viena apgaulė. Pirmasis balsas skatina tyliai laukti ir stebėti, kaip santykiai klostysis ir tada imtis juos įkalbinti: jis atsiskleidžia atidžiu herojų veiksmų, judesių ir erdvės detalių fiksavimu, stebėjimu bei tyrinėjimu. Antrasis nuolat prikelia praeitį, į tekstą vis įterpdamas nekontroliuojamo nerimo epizo- dus. Tiesioginių dialogų tekste beveik nėra, jis vyksta kaip dviejų to paties subjekto balsų koegzistencija: vienas yra įsikūnijęs pasakotojo kalboje ir sutampa su herojės žvilgsniu, antrasis – tiesioginiai moters monologai. Pirmasis balsas nėra tik pasyvus natiurmorto tapymas. Jo funkcija – kurti tylą tarp herojės minčių ir jos išgyvenamo fizinio pasaulio. Tyla net tiesiogiai yra įkal- binta: „Valgydami jie beveik nesikalbėjo: persimetė vienu kitu žodeliu“ (p. 200), „Trumpai pasėdėjo priešais vyrą, tylomis žvelgdama į jo plaukais apaugusias rankas“ (p. 201), „Tyloje pasikloti lovą, užsitraukti ant galvos paklodę, palįsti po ja, laukti, kol ateis miegas“ (p. 203); „Reikšminga tyla sklido iš virtuvės, kur rytą jinai plovė indus, iš miegamojo, iš visų kerčių“ (p. 204). Galima teigti, kad transgrediencija pa- siekiama būtent per tylą: koncentruojantis į detalų fizinės erdvės tyrinėjimą, sukuriama distancija tarp autoriaus, personažo ir kal- bos. Leisdamas įsivyrauti tylai, autorius atsisako kištis į herojės apmąstymus ir kartu ją pačią apdraudžia nuo prievartinio reikš- minio krūvio suteikimo kalbai. Nepuolama diagnozuoti vyro ir moters santykio neį- manomumo rezignacijos pliūpsniais (kaip neretai atsitinka Radzevičiaus novelėse), bet kartu su moterimi tarsi kantriai stebima, I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 97 kaip kalba, materializuodama išgyvenamą tikrovę, leidžia suvokti savo patirtį. Tylą perskrodžia nuolat šmėsčiojantis antrasis balsas, kuris vis primena baimę, kad moteris bus palikta, bet autorius vis grąžina pirmąjį balsą – nukreipia pasakojimą į erdvės stebė- jimą, taip išlaikydamas minėtą balansą tarp savęs, herojės ir kalbos: „<...> jis apsisuks ir tada, kad ir ką jinai kalbėtų, klausysis ne taip atidžiai, apsiaus batus ir, ko gero, nieko nepasakęs, išeis [II balsas – M. G.] <...> Rengdamasi ji girdėjo, kaip jis nuėjo į vonią, atsuko čiaupą, kaip pasipylė vanduo. Kai jis grįžo, jinai jau stovėjo prie dujinės viryklės ir, užsimetusi chalatą, darbavosi prie garuojančio puodo [I balsas – M. G.]“ (p. 200); „<...> gali dabar pat pasakyti man viso gero, gali nieko nesakiusi pasukti šituo keliuku, galime taip atsisveikinti... [II balsas – M. G.] Abudu prasėdėjo prie upės kranto, priešais skardį. Tingus karklų svyravimas ir ūžesys. Netoli pliažo, sustoję ant dirvono, ratu vaikinai žaidė kamuolį. Grakštūs įdegę merginų kūnai, skambus be- prasmis juokas [I balsas – M. G.]“ (p. 202); „Gal jis nustebs, gal apims apmaudas, kad ji čia, gal atsirems delnu į parudusią žolę, sun- kiai pasikels ir, nė nedirstelėjęs į ją, nueis [II balsas – M. G.] <...> Kai jie pakilo, saulė jau baigė nugrimzti už miškingo skardžio <...> Jie sėdėjo prie mažiuko suoliuko po parko medžiais [I balsas – M. G.]“ (p. 203). Derinant tylaus stebėjimo ir hipertrofuoto nerimo balsus, pasiekiamas balansas, herojų ištraukiantis iš vidinio betarpiškumo. Tik išlaukus ir kalbinės intuicijos dėka pajutus, kad balsai jau kalba ne atskirai, bet vienu metu prabyla abu kartu, užbaigiama novelė: „Tik tada, kai ji nutilo, jis abiem rankom praskleidė užkritusius ant jos veido plaukus ir, žiūrėdamas į baltą, kančios ir meilės išskalautą veidą, pasakė: „Ne, žinau, kad tavęs nepaliksiu“, – pasakė tokiu balsu ir tokius žodžius, kuriuos ji ir tikėjosi išgirsti. Daugiau jai nieko nebereikėjo, dabar jis galėjo tylėti“ (p. 205). Frazėse „kai ji nuti- lo“ ir „daugiau jai nieko nebereikėjo“ jun- tamas abiejų balsų susiliejimas – pirmasis balsas nuramina antrojo neštą nerimą (to- kioje prasmingoje tyloje nieko nebereikia) ir kalbėjimas stabilizuojasi, nebesiskaldo į atskirus balsus. Tekstą užbaigia abu balsai, skambėdami kartu. Jei novelė būtų tęsia- ma, ji rizikuotų virsti monologu: gal apie „ramybę ir harmoniją“, gal apie būtinybę mokėti laukti, bet sustojama tada, kai pati kalba pasiūlo pabaigą – kai dviejų kalbų kalbėjimas galutinai virsta kalbėjimusi. Novelėse „Praradimo aidai“, „Naktį“, „Moteris“ galima matyti, kad žmogaus subjektyvumas išvengia ideologizavimo ir sinchronizuojasi su kalbos energija, kuria autoriui išorišką herojų. Bet transgredien- cijos „pametimo“ situacijos rinktinėje Link Debesijos – taip pat dažnos. Neįvykusios transgrediencijos situacijos Petras Bražėnas, kalbėdamas apie Prie- šaušrio vieškelius, Radzevičiaus gebėjimą laviruoti tarp patirties stichiškumo ir kalbos materialumo įvardija tokiu teiginiu: „tekste sukuriama minties ir jausmo įtampa, lei- džianti žodžiu perteikti retą žmogaus atsis- kleidimo visa esybe paveikslą. O pajutus tai, be galo tyliai sau pagalvoti, ar garsiai pasakyti, kas yra talento alsavimas, kas yra įkvėpimas, kas yra menininkui paklusęs žodis, per kurį realizuojami visi kūrybos tikslai“ [išskirta M. G.] (Bražėnas 2001, p. 106). Transgrediencijos teorijos siūlo- ma perspektyva verčia suklusti, išgirdus tokius optimistiškus teiginius apie žodžio M. Grigaitis. TRANSGREDIENCIJOS RAIŠKA BRONIAUS RADZEVIČIAUS NOVELIŲ RINKTINĖJE 98 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA pavergimą autoriaus tikslams. Jeigu kalba yra pavergta minties ir jausmo įtampai, neišleistai iš vidinio pasaulio, mes turime išpažintį, bet ne estetinį veiksmą. Link De- besijos novelėse neretai patyriminė energija neišeina iš žmogaus betarpiškumo, kitaip sakant, žmogus-autorius-herojus susilieja į monolitą, kuris savo sunkiu užgula tekstą ir neįsileidžia transgredienciją kuriančių aspektų: herojus pavergia autorių ir ima kurti pats save arba autorius herojų ima naudoti kaip savo ideologijos reprezenta- vimo įrankį. Aptardami „Praradimo aidus“ matėme, kad rezignacija ir ilgesys yra stipriausi patirties impulsai, organizuojantys pras- minę teksto struktūrą. Kitose novelėse šios būsenos taip hipertrofuojamos, kad meninė žiūra virsta vidinio beribiškumo kaitros iš- lydyta, aiškesniame prasminiame projekte neįsiforminančia kalbos mase. Novelėse „Prie ežero“, „Apsilankymas“, „Motinos apsilankymas“, „Kaltė“ kyla įspūdis, kad pasyvi rezignacija, užvaldydama herojų, uždaro jį hermetiškoje aplinkoje, užkirsda- ma kelią pasigirsti bet kokiam kitam balsui. Skaitant minėtus tekstus, nejuntamos ribos, kada pereinama į kitą kūrinį: „Iš- barstytos, dingusios akimirkos, sklidinos neaiškaus laukimo, sustingo ant atsitiktinių veidų, namų, medžių, miško kontūrų ir, blykstelėjus saulei, išryškėjo kaip šauksmas daiktų, saugančių prisiminimus iš praeities ir kviečiančių ilgam, bet beviltiškam po- kalbiui“ („Prie ežero“, p. 84); „Dabar aš supratau, kodėl ji taip narsiai, su ryšuliais traukė gatvės viduriu. Tai buvo priekaištas man ir visam miestui, kuris pasiglemžė jos sūnų“ („Motinos apsilankymas“, p. 82); „Aš grįžtu. Šalta mėnesienos naktis, blizga sniegas. Priešais pamiškėj boluoja sodybos stogai. Mano gimtasis namas. Takas leidžia- si į pakalnę, tylu, girgžda sniegas po kojom. Po daugelio metų – vėl į namus, gerokai pasikeitęs, manęs jau daug kas čia nebepa- žins“ („Apsilankymas“, p. 102); „Nelauktai suvokiu, kad ieškau žodžių, kurie dilgintų, geltų... Taip visuomet tikriausiai būva, kai sąžinė nešvari, kai nori nuo savęs nuslėpti ar perdėtu susijaudinimu atpirkti kaltę. Man neduoda ramybės mintis: argi ji [močiutė – M. G.] manė, kad jos anūkas ją taip greitai pamirš?“ („Kaltė“, p. 74). Pateiktos citatos – tai epizodai, ne iš- traukti iš konteksto, bet išimti iš vientiso, neartikuliuoto kalbos srauto. Bet kuris prieš juos ar po jų esantis epizodas sklinda tuo pačiu intensyvumu ir neša tą patį neaiškų prasminį turinį. Pačiuose tekstuose ne tik nėra balsų polifonijos – jos nėra ir tarp tekstų. Beveik visose čia aptartose novelėse sklinda ta pati kalbos ritmika, tas pats kal- bėjimo būdas, persmelktas hipertrofuotos rezignacijos, kuri neleidžia herojui išsilais- vinti iš žmogaus vidinės begalybės: kaip novelės pradedamos – ilgesio prisodrintu balsu – taip ir baigiamos. Praradimas – tai gravitacinis centras, kuris organizuoja kalbos srautą. Jis ir valdo patirties ener- gijos sklaidos kryptis ir neįsileidžia jokių transgrediencijos aspektų: autorius čia yra užvaldytas herojaus, kuris kalbą nužemina iki psichologizuotos išpažinties reprezen- tavimo įrankio. Pasirenkama dienoraštinės išpažinties forma neleidžia kalbėti apie subjektyvumo sklaidą kalboje, nes tam, kad kalbėtume apie subjektą, patirtis turėtų būti matoma iš išorės, kurią ir sukuria meninė kalba. Minėtose novelėse visas žvilgsnis tarsi per prievartą įcentrintas į vidinio pa- saulio amorfiką, kurios trauka tokia inten- syvi, kad beformiškumą perduoda ir kalbai. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 99 Panašiai ir novelėse „Žemės keleiviai“, „Nuskriausta vaikystė“, „Kartais, kai mūsų meilė...“, „Šviesa ant ežero“ praradimo bū- sena yra neįveikiamai absorbavusi meninę visumą: herojai dažniausiai neturi vardų, kalba vienoda kalba, todėl atrodo plūduriuo- jantys vidiniame žmogaus pasaulyje kaip absoliučioje, visa aprėpiančioje visatoje, kurioje neįmanoma įgyti iš pačios kalbos gelmių natūraliai išaugančių išbaigiamųjų aspektų: „Pasidėki ant suolo kepurę, sėski prie žemo stalo, slinkis, slinkis, nušvieski jų būtį šaltu aukso lietum, kaip nušvietė rudenio saulė...“ („Žemės keleiviai“, p. 90); „Per sūkuriuojančius laukais sniegus, pro debesis pasidabrintais kraštais, jis brido atgal į gūdžių miškų apsuptą kaimą, kur žiemos rytais tokia blyški ir šalta šviesa prasimušdavo pro užgarmėjusius langus ir gulint ant krosnies girdėdavosi, kaip dunksi motinos stumdomi puodai, kaip tėvas atneša apšalusių malkų ir su trenksmu numeta prie krosnies“ („Nuskriausta vaikystė“, p. 72); „Kartais, kai mūsų meilė klajoja kaip dvasia be vietos, ji dažnai grįžta ten, kur jos nesti- go“ („Kartais, kai mūsų meilė...“, p. 209); „Atsisveikinimo mostas, kurio nesugrąžin- si, šių pakrančių fone matytas veidas – visa tai plykstelėjo kaip saulės šviesa ant bangos ir išblėso“ („Šviesa ant ežero“, p. 97). Cituoti fragmentai – tai novelių pabai- gos. Juose akivaizdus apibendrinamasis tonas, kuris suponuoja, kad autorius taip įsivėlė į vidinio pasaulio betarpiškumą, kad vienintelis būdas suteikti jam išoriškumą – tai mechanišku apibendrinimu užbaigti novelę. Tačiau toks baigiamasis akcentas nėra transgrediencijos sukūrimas, nes ateina ne iš pačios kalbos, bet iš autoriaus noro perduoti aiškią tiesą, todėl atrodo dirbtinas, nenatūralus. Šiose novelėse taip pat sunku kalbėti apie balsų polifoniją, nes jos labai panašios, tarsi pavergtos vienam ir tam pačiam prisiminimų liūdesiu kalbančiam balsui, reprezentuojančiam autoriaus ideo- loginį projektą, skirtą sakralizuoti prarastą „aukso amžių“. Taigi nėra natūralios, pačio- je kalboje slypinčios reikšmių gravitacijos, kuri reiškėsi novelėse „Praradimo aidai“, „Naktį“ ar „Moteris“: herojus čia yra tapęs autoriaus ideologijos reprezentavimo įran- kiu, o kalbos veiksmas, kaip rodo noras viską apibendrinti paskutiniu sakiniu, virtęs filosofiniu-ideologiniu traktatu. Aptartose transgredientiškumo pažeidi- mo situacijose meninės kalbos funkcija – ne ištraukti žmogų iš vidinės begalybės, bet tą begalybę atitikti. Novelės arba mechaniškai užbaigiamos apibendrinamaisiais sakiniais („Žemės keleiviai“, „Nuskriausta vaikystė“, „Kartais, kai mūsų meilė...“, „Šviesa ant ežero“), arba išsilydo autoriaus-žmogaus rezignacijoje („Prie ežero“, „Motinos ap- silankymas“, „Apsilankymas“, „Kaltė“). Abiem atvejais siekiama realizuoti apriori- nį, dar iki kalbinio akto (rašymo) pradžios susikurtą prasmės viziją. Visai nesvarbu, koks personažas tą viziją realizuos, todėl jie dažniausiai neturi vardų, kalba vienoda kalba, atrodo plūduriuojantys vidiniame autoriaus-žmogaus pasaulyje kaip absoliu- čioje, visa aprėpiančioje visatoje. Kūrinys, tapęs autoriaus totalitarizmo įkaitu, negali įgyti iš pačios kalbos gelmių natūraliai išaugančių išbaigiamųjų aspektų. Vietoj išvadų Straipsnio apimtis neleidžia detaliai išna- grinėti kiekvienos rinktinės novelės, todėl teko apsiriboti kelių novelių aptarimu, savo įžvalgas iliustruojant nedideliu kiekiu pavyzdžių. Transgrediencijos teorija siūlo atidų įsiskaitymą į kiekvieną tekstą atskirai. M. Grigaitis. TRANSGREDIENCIJOS RAIŠKA BRONIAUS RADZEVIČIAUS NOVELIŲ RINKTINĖJE 100 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Kiekvienas literatūros kūrinys – tai atskiras estetinis įvykis, todėl jo klasifikacija yra sąlyginė. Į kiekvieną kūrinį reikia žvelgti ne kaip egzistuojantį apibrėžtame mode- lyje – literatūros srovės, kanono ar teorijos apibrėžtyse, bet kaip į autonomišką visu- mą – tik taip galima apsaugoti estetinę žiūrą nuo plėšraus noro katalogizuoti literatūrą. Toks žvilgsnis, nukreiptas į Radzevičiaus noveles, parodė, kad adoruojant autorių ar susižavėjus jo ideologijos patrauklumu, dažnai kyla pagunda visą kūrybą įtraukti į tą pačią tradiciją ir tokiu veiksmu visiems to autoriaus tekstams suteikti neginčijamą estetinę vertę. Atidesnis žvilgsnis į Radze- vičiaus noveles suponuoja, kad estetinės žiūros dar negarantuoja „amžinų vertybių“, kultūrinės tradicijos tąsos ar „didžiųjų eg- zistencinių problemų“ kėlimo. Literatūros procesą valdo ne idėjinė, bet kalbinė galia. Tačiau tai nereiškia, kad subjekto patirtis eliminuota iš literatūrinės komunikacijos lauko. Transgrediencijos teorija ir yra savo- tiškas kompromisinis žvilgsnis, leidžiantis suderinti postmodernią žiūrą su vadina- muoju tradiciniu požiūriu: ji nepasiduoda autoriaus intencijų įtaigai ir įsiklausydama į kuriančiąją materiją – kalbą – skatina dialogą su tekstu, o per jį ir su žmogumi bachtiniškąja prasme. Ji leidžia išvengti nekritiško autoriaus figūros adoravimo ar subjekto absoliutinimo, o kartu iš literatūros suvokimo lauko neleidžia ištrinti žmogiško- sios patirties dėmens. Literatūra ALIŠANKA, E., 1998. Vaizdijantis žmogus. Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla. ALIŠANKA, E., 2001. Dioniso sugrįžimas. Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla. BACHTINAS, M., 2002. Autorius ir herojus. Estetikos darbai. Vilnius: Aidai. BAKHTIN, M., 1981. Forms of Time and Chronotope in the Novel. In: BAKHTIN, M. The Dialogic Imagination: Four Essays. Austin: UTP, 84–258. BRAŽĖNAS, P., 2001. Priešaušrio vieškelius perėjus. In: D. VAITIEKŪNAS. Kūrybos studijos ir interpretacijos: Bronius Radzevičius. Vilnius: Baltos lankos, 100–118. BULAVKA, L., BUZGALIN, A., 2006. The Next Hundred Years Of Mikhail Bakhtin – The Dialectic Of Dialogue Versus the Metaphysics of Post-Modernism. Prieiga: http://www.alternativy. ru/en/node/83. [Žiūr. 2012-04-23]. DAUJOTYTĖ, V., RUBAVIČIUS V., ŠLIO- GERIS, A., TAMOŠAITIS, R., 2009. Kalbos pabaiga? Metai, 3. Prieiga: http://www.tekstai. lt/zurnalas-metai/4282-kalbos-pabaiga-pokal- byje-dalyvavo-viktorija-daujotyte-vytautas-ru- bavicius-arvydas-sliogeris-regimantas-tamo- saitis-3?catid=509%3A2009-nr-3-kovas. [Žiūr. 2012-04-20]. DE PEUTER, J., 1998. The Dialogics of Narra- tive Identity. In: Bakhtin and the Human Sciences: No Last Words. London; Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage, 30–48. GRIGAITIS, M., 2011. Broniaus Radzevičiaus romanas „Priešaušrio vieškeliai“ iš ontologinės hermeneutikos perspektyvos. Colloquia, 26, 62–77. GRIGAITIS, M., 2006. Postmodernizmas ir kitos literatūrologijos baimės. Šiaurės Atė- nai. 2006-10-07. Prieiga: http://www.culture.lt/ satenai/?leid_id=815&kas=straipsnis&st_id=4601. [Žiūr. 2012-04-23]. HOLQUIST, M. 2002. Dialogism: Bakhtin and His World (New Accents). London: Routledge. KRISTEVA, J., 1986. The Kristeva reader. New York: Columbia University Press. NIELSEN, G., 1998. The Norms of Answerabi- lity: Bakhtin and the Fourth Postulate. In: Bakhtin and the Human Sciences: No Last Words. London; Thousand Oaks, Calif.: Sage, 214–231. RADZEVIČIUS, B., 1984. Link Debesijos. Vilnius: Vaga. RUZAS, M., 2008. 500 metų filosofijai Lietu- voje. Problemos, 73, 213–215. SATKAUSKYTĖ, D., 2008. Postmoderniz- mas kaip konjunktūra. Metai, 2. Prieiga: http:// I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 101 www.tekstai.lt/zurnalas-metai/3157-dalia-sat- kauskyte-postmodernizmas-kaip-konjunktura. html?catid=488%3A2008-nr-02-vasaris. [Žiūr. data 2012-04-20]. SPRINDYTĖ, J., 2006. Prozos būsenos 1988–2005 metai. Vilnius: Lietuvių literatūros ir tautosakos institutas. VALANTIEJUS, A., 2003. Postmodernizmas ir epistemologinio reliatyvizmo spąstai. Sociologija. Mintis ir veiksmas, 2, 5–49. Mindaugas Grigaitis Vilnius University, Lithuania Research interests: literary theory, literary phi- losophy, cultural studies, literary anthropology TRANSGREDIENCE IN TOWARD DEBESIJA BY BRONIUS RADZEVIČIUS Summary The aim of this article is to present the transgredi- ence theory of Russian scientist Mikhail Bakhtin as a compromise of the traditional and postmodern views of literature. Traditional criticism, which here is defined as a metaphysical view of litera- ture as a subject’s self-representation, rejects the postmodern idea of the subject’s death as nihilistic blather. On the contrary, the postmodern attitude denies the subject’s identity as a centre of literature. The theory of transgredience admits that subjectiv- ity is not dead, but rejects it as a constant and finite identity. It makes it possible to join the traditional and postmodern attitudes. The first section deals with these aspects of transgredience. Such categories as time, space, author, hero, exteriority, and inner world are defined. It is stressed that the word man, which traditionally is understood as a subject of constant identity, in Bakhtin’s theory means the possibility to create that identity. This possibility becomes aesthetic reality only when an author—the principle of organizing language—exteriorizes and, through exteriorization, materializes experience in a hero. Exteriorization and the separation of man-author- hero are stressed as the main aspects of the theory of transgredience. The forms of transgredience that are expressed in Radzevičius’s novels are analyzed in the second section. The texts of this author come into the center of analysis because of their intensive correlations of experience and language. It is considered that the best way to present the theory of transgredience as a compromise of traditional and postmodern thought is to use it in an interpretation of the texts of those Mindaugas Grigaitis Uniwersytet Wileński, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: teoria literatury, filozofia literatury, studia kulturowe, antropo- logia literatury ZASADA NIEWSPÓŁOBECNOŚCI W ZBIO- RZE NOWEL BRONIUSA RADZEVIČIUSA LINK DEBESIJOS Streszczenie Przedmiotem artykułu jest analiza zbioru nowel litewskiego prozaika Broniusa Radzevičiusa Link Debesijos (W stronę Debesiji), przeprowadzona w oparciu o teorię niewspółobecności rosyjskiego literaturoznawcy Michaiła Bachtina. Teoria ta jest traktowana jako teoretyczny kompromis, po- zwalający połączyć założenia tradycyjnej krytyki broniącej subiektywizmu z postmodernistyczną ideą śmierci autora. Świadomie wybrano prozę Radzevičiusa, w której istnieje bardzo wyraźna korelacja między językiem i doświadczeniem. Uważa się, że teorię niewspółobecności najlepiej przedstawić na przykładzie tekstów tych autorów, którzy nie tylko nierozerwalnie stapiają w jedno doświadczenie i język, ale też wyczuwają granice przekazywania doświadczenia za pomocą języka. W części teoretycznej artykułu przedstawiono teorię niewspółobecności M. Bachtina, przywo- łano ideę człowieka jako całości doświadczenia, określono bachtinowską zasadę tworzenia wartości estetycznej w odniesieniu do tego doświadczenia. Najwięcej uwagi poświęcono analizie relacji między autorem i bohaterem, określono kategorie niewspółobecności, świata zewnętrznego i we- wnętrznego, omówiono warunki występowania niewspółobecności oraz sytuacje związane z jej naruszeniem. Dokonując analizy utworów B. Ra- dzevičiusa, zbadano formy występowania zasady niewspółobecności, udziału autora w procesie two- rzenia całości artystycznej oraz naruszenia zasady niewspółobecności w analizowanych nowelach. Najpierw dokonano rozbioru nowel stanowiących M. Grigaitis. TRANSGREDIENCIJOS RAIŠKA BRONIAUS RADZEVIČIAUS NOVELIŲ RINKTINĖJE 102 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA authors who not only join experience and language into an intense unity, but even feel the boundar- ies of representing experience through language. Radzevičius is one of those authors. Even though Lithuanian literary critics sees him as a master of creating unity between word and feeling, his texts, as a separate world which is governed by the rules of language, reveal that sometimes feeling absorbs language and novels becomes non-esthetic acts. Such situations are called disturbance of transgredience and have two directions: a) hero absorbs author and becomes an author of his own; b) author absorbs hero and makes him a figure of representing the ideology of the author as a living person. Both directions are described through analyses of certain novels. KEY WORDS: transgredience, Mikhail Bakhtin, Bronius Radzevičius, author, hero, artificial unity. spójną całość artystyczną, następnie omówiono utwory, w których zabrakło artystycznego wy- kończenia. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: Michaił Bachtin, Bro- nius Radzevičius, autor, bohater, estetyczny punkt widzenia, niewspółobecność (transgrediencja, egzotopia), całość artystyczna. Gauta 2011 12 08 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 103 Ewa Anna Piasta Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach Instytut Filologii Obcych Zakład Filologii Germańskiej ul. Kościuszki 13, 25–310 Kielce, Polska Tel. +041 349 68 00 E-mail: ewa_piasta@yahoo.de Zainteresowania naukowe: kultura niemieckiego obszaru językowego, korespondencja sztuk, związki literatury z muzyką i duchowością ASPEKTY METAFIZYCZNE W POEZJI ROSE AUSLÄNDER Przedmiotem analizy jest sześć wierszy Rose Ausländer, poetki żydowskiego pochodzenia, ży- jącej w latach 1901–1988, urodzonej w Czerniowcach, na terenie ówczesnych Austro-Węgier, a zmarłej w Düsseldorfie (Niemcy). Ausländer tworzyła w języku niemieckim i angielskim. Celem niniejszego szkicu jest prześledzenie aspektów metafizycznych zawartych w wierszach Rose Ausländer i udowodnienie tezy, iż przejawiają się one na płaszczyźnie semantycznej, leksykalnej oraz aksjologicznej. Interesuje mnie ewokowane przez wiersze doświadczenie duchowe, wyrosłe na gruncie egzystencji skierowanej ku transcendencji, ku Absolutowi i przeżywanej jako tajemnica. Celem jest również ustalenie, czy owe doświadczenia metafizyczne uzyskują specyfikację religijną. Metoda ergocentryczna zaproponowana przez Z. Zarębiankę w badaniach sakralności lite- ratury zakłada, że ów fenomen jest obecny w samym tekście i może być badany bez odniesień do okoliczności zewnętrznych i szukania w nich uzasadnienia dla jego genezy. Pozwala to na lepsze skoncentrowanie się na samym fenomenie sacrum obecnym w tekście literackim. Analiza wierszy pozwala stwierdzić, że częste są w nich odniesienia do Boga-Stwórcy oraz podkreślany jest współudział człowieka w dziele stworzenia. „Ja” mówiące tekstu poetyckie- go przyjmuje wobec Absolutu postawę zależności, respektu i podziwu. Istotnym dla wymiaru duchowego tej poezji jest widzenie rzeczy materialnych i spraw tego świata w kontekście eschatologicznym. W poezji ujawnia się system przekonań budowanych na Biblii, np. gdy jest mowa o miłości bliźniego. Odczytanie właściwych znaczeń ewokowanych przez teksty liryczne jest możliwe poprzez uwzględnienie Biblii jako pierwowzoru dla sytuacji lirycznych przedstawionych w wierszach. Wyraźnie zaznaczony jest w nich prymat sensów duchowych, poszukiwanie tożsamości, wieczności, pełni, stwórczej mocy Boga. Słownictwo religijne analizowanych liryków jest dość ubogie. To raczej nawiązania w sferze aksjologii i poprzez aluzję do fragmentów biblijnych, np. wersów psalmu, budują ich aspekt metafizyczny, który znajduje konkretyzację w przeświadczeniach właściwych dla tradycji judeochrześcijańskiej. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: poezja, metafizyka, transcendencja, Rose Ausländer. 104 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA I Rose Ausländer urodziła się w 1901 roku w Czerniowcach, na terenie ówczesnych Austro-Węgier, zmarła w Düsseldorfie w 1988 roku. Tworzyła w języku niemieckim i angielskim. Pochodziła z mieszczańsko-ży- dowskiego domu, gdzie wpajano jej zasady wschodnio-żydowskiego chasydyzmu oraz idee oświeceniowe. Żydowski pluralizm kulturowy i liberalna austriacko-niemiecka tradycja kulturowa istniały tu obok siebie i przenikały się wzajemnie. Pochodzenie poetki z rejonu Bukowiny stawia ją w cen- trum wschodnioeuropejskiej tradycji kultu- rowej (por. Kristensson 2000, s. 13). Rose Ausländer zaczęła pisać wiersze w wieku siedemnastu lat. Pierwsze liryki powstały po powrocie z Wiednia w 1918 roku, gdzie jej rodzina schroniła się podczas pierwszej wojny światowej. W latach dwudziestych Ausländer wyjechała do USA, wróciła w 1939 roku, aby opiekować się chorą matką. W tymże roku ukazał się jej pierwszy tomik poetycki Tęcza (por. Kristensson 2000, s. 20). Jej wczesne wiersze są zakorzenione w niemieckim mistycyzmie romantycznym (por. Colin 1990, s. 233). Od 1941 roku przez trzy lata ukrywała się wraz z matką w getcie czerniowieckim, aby uniknąć depor- tacji przez niemieckiego okupanta (por. Kri- stensson 2000, s. 17). Ostatnie dwie dekady życia spędziła Ausländer w Düsseldorfie w domu im. Nelly-Sachs, należącym do gminy żydowskiej. Tam powstały jej ostatnie wier- sze (por. Kristensson 2000, s. 18). Twórczość poetycką Rose Ausländer można podzielić na następujące fazy: 1) wiersze neoromantyczne i ekspresjoni- styczne do 1939 roku; 2) wiersze o tema- tyce egzystencjalnej w latach 1941–1944; 3) przerwa w twórczości i eksperymenty poetyckie w latach 1948–1956; 4) współ- czesne wiersze o tematyce postshoah od 1956 do 1987 roku (por. Kristensson 2000, s. 21). Jej wiersze, podejmujące problemy egzystencjalne, nawiązują do chasydyzmu. Wyraz chassidim oznacza po hebrajsku ‘po- bożny’ i dał on nazwę religijnemu, demo- kratycznemu, a jednocześnie mistycznemu ruchowi zmierzającemu do odnowy życia we wszystkich tych wymiarach. Porównu- je się go do pietyzmu, który miał na celu uwewnętrznienie treści wiary. Chasydyzm traktuje człowieka jako partnera Boga w stwarzaniu świata, odpowiedzialnego za trwanie i rozprzestrzenianie się dobra w świecie. Ruch chasydzki występuje przeciw skostniałym rytuałom tradycji ortodoksyj- no-rabinowskiej i głosi konieczność odno- wy wszystkich wymiarów życia, od wyżyn ekstazy aż do codziennych zewnętrznych spraw (por. Helfrich 1995, s. 34–36). Nikt nie zaprzeczy, że Rose Ausländer była oso- bą religijną, ale też nikt nie potwierdzi, że była praktykującą żydówką. Jej religijność można scharakteryzować jako osobistą i prywatną relację z Bogiem (por. Merk 2011, s. 67). Badacze twórczości R. Ausländer zauważają w jej wierszach uosobione wyob- rażenia metafizycznego, jak i politeistyczne, antropomorficzne oraz nieosobowe obrazy Boga (por. Merk 2011, s. 63). II Immanentną cechą literatury i jej niezby- walnym prawem jest stawianie pytań egzy- stencjalnych, zasadniczych, wypływających z duchowej natury człowieka, który szuka uzasadnienia dla swojego bytowania w świecie. Stąd wszelkie badania skierowane na odczytywanie tego, co w niej duchowe, czy – posługując się językiem filozofów – I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 105 metafizyczne, należałoby poprzedzić szer- szą refleksją nad tym terminem. Wszelka twórczość artystyczna, a tym bardziej lite- ratura, bo o niej tutaj mowa, jest owocem duchowej aktywności człowieka. Nawet w przypadku, gdy literatura obiera za swój przedmiot opisu tylko materialny wymiar rzeczywistości i zdaje się być pozbawiona odniesień do transcendencji, fakt ten stano- wi odzwierciedlenie duchowej kondycji za- równo danego twórcy, jak i epoki, w której żyje. Nawet negacja tego, co metafizyczne, jest w jakimś sensie zajęciem stanowiska wobec owego fenomenu, czasami świado- mym odcięciem się od niego, a innym razem zakamuflowanym poszukiwaniem śladów Innego pośród przygodnej rzeczywistości. Dla niniejszych rozważań istotna jest defi- nicja duchowości sformułowana przez Zofię Zarębiankę, polską badaczkę literatury, pod kątem jej odniesień do sacrum. Stwierdza ona, że duchowość to: po pierwsze „wyraz i przejaw wszelkiej wewnętrznej aktywno- ści ludzkiej, po drugie odpowiedź, reakcja ludzkiego ducha na ważne dlań impulsy pochodzące z zewnątrz i interioryzowane, po trzecie wreszcie, odniesienie obydwu powyżej wskazanych aspektów do sfery uznanej przez podmiot za «absolutny punkt sensotwórczy», co niekoniecznie musi od razu oznaczać płaszczyznę nadprzyro- dzonego i religijnego, zawsze wskazywać będzie na dziedzinę aksjologii oraz tak czy inaczej rozumianej transcendencji, nie zawsze i nie dla wszystkich o charakterze religijnym” (Zarębianka 2008, s. 91–92). Odwieczne dylematy egzystencjalne wy- rażane poprzez literaturę przybierają nieraz formę konkretyzacji wyznaniowej, co po- zwala wtedy na badanie stopnia sakralnego i/lub religijnego nacechowania utworu, objawiającego się na płaszczyźnie seman- tycznej, leksykalnej oraz aksjologicznej. Współczesna niemiecka badaczka literatury Magda Motté wprowadza rozróżnienie na płaszczyznę etyczno-egzystencjalną oraz transcendentno-religijną. Do pierwszej na- leżą teksty, które podejmują kwestie ogól- noludzkie, jak pytanie o tożsamość, spra- wiedliwość, pokój itd. Nie wykraczają one jednak poza to, co widzialne i nie zwracają się ku innemu światu. Do drugiej kategorii należą teksty mówiące o człowieku, który w swoich doświadczeniach miłości, strachu, samotności, cierpienia i śmierci dochodzi do przekonania, że sam nie jest w stanie zaspokoić swojej potrzeby zbawienia i nie osiągnie go swoimi ograniczonymi środ- kami, a zarazem nie czyni siebie samego środkiem i celem wszechświata, lecz kieruje wszystkie swoje doświadczenia ku instancji wyższej, ku Absolutowi, który jako jedyny jest w stanie nadać wszystkiemu sens. Teksty, które zawierają tego typu wizję rzeczywistości, można nazwać religijnymi (por. Motté 1997, s. 33). Celem niniejszego szkicu jest prze- śledzenie aspektów metafizycznych za- wartych w wierszach Rose Ausländer i udowodnienie tezy, iż przejawiają się one na wszystkich trzech wyżej wymienionych płaszczyznach. Interesować mnie będzie najpierw ewokowane przez wiersze do- świadczenie duchowe, wyrosłe na gruncie egzystencji skierowanej ku transcendencji, ku Absolutowi i przeżywanej jako tajemni- ca. Celem moim jest również ustalenie, czy owe doświadczenia metafizyczne uzyskują specyfikację religijną. Metoda ergocen- tryczna zaproponowana przez Zarębiankę w badaniach sakralności literatury zakłada, że ów fenomen jest obecny w samym tek- E. A. Piasta. ASPEKTY METAFIZYCZNE W POEZJI ROSE AUSLÄNDER 106 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA ście i może być badany bez odniesień do okoliczności zewnętrznych i szukania w nich uzasadnienia dla jego genezy (por. Za- rębianka 2008, s. 7). Pozwala to na lepsze skoncentrowanie się na samym fenomenie sacrum, obecnym w tekście literackim. W nurt tych rozważań wpisują się również badania dotyczące aspektów metafizycz- nych, transcendentnych i religijnych, podejmowanych w ciągu ostatnich dzie- sięcioleci głównie przez literaturoznawców polskich, do których zaliczyć należy w pierwszym rzędzie badaczy lubelskich: Stefana Sawickiego, który wydał m.in. następujące dzieła: Poetyka. Interpretacja. Sacrum, Warszawa 1981; Wartość – sacrum – Norwid 2. Studia i szkice aksjologiczno- -literackie, Lublin 2007; Marię Jasińską- -Wojtkowską, autorkę książki: Horyzonty literackiego sacrum, Lublin 2003; Mariana Maciejewskiego, twórcę kerygmatycznej metody w badaniach literackich: „Ażeby ciało powróciło w słowo”. Próba kerygma- tycznej interpretacji literatury, Lublin 1991 oraz badaczkę krakowską, Zofię Zarębian- kę, autorkę m.in. następujących pozycji: Poezja wymiaru sanctum. Kamieńska – Jankowski – Twardowski, Lublin 1992, Czytanie Sacrum, Kraków – Rzym 2008, Tropy sacrum w literaturze XX wieku, Byd- goszcz 2001. Najnowsze dzieło badaczy krakowskich pod redakcją Marii Kłańskiej, Jadwigi Kity-Huber, Pawła Zarychty nosi tytuł: „Cóż za Księga!” Biblia w literatu- rze niemieckojęzycznej od Oświecenia po współczesność i ukazało się w Krakowie w 2010 roku. Wśród niemieckich literaturo- znawców wymienić należy Magdę Motté, która wydała m.in. pozycję Auf der Suche nach dem verlorenen Gott, Mainz 2008 oraz Heinricha Schmidingera, pod którego redakcją ukazało się dwutomowe dzieło poświęcone badaniom recepcji Biblii w literaturze: Die Bibel in der deutschspra- chigen Literatur des 20. Jahrhunderts, Mainz 2000. Wśród badaczy niemieckich to przeważnie teolodzy poświęcają swoją uwagę zagadnieniom szeroko rozumianych związków religii i/lub teologii z literaturą. Zaliczają się do nich, żeby wymienić tylko tych najważniejszych, następujący auto- rzy: Georg Langenhorst: Theologie und Literatur. Ein Handbuch, Darmstadt 2005; „Ich gönne mir das Wort Gott“. Annähe- rungen an Gott in der Gegenwartsliteratur, Freiburg im Breisgau 2009; Karl Josef Kuschel: Im Spiegel der Dichter. Mensch. Gott und Jesus in der Literatur des 20. Jahrhunderts, Düsseldorf 1997, Gott liebt es, sich zu verstecken. Literarische Skizzen von Lessing bis Muschg, Stuttgart 2007; Erich Garhammer: Zweifel im Dienst der Hoffnung. Poesie und Theologie, Würz- burg 2011. Wróćmy jednak jeszcze do dalszych uwag precyzujących termin metafizyka. Funkcjonuje on nie tylko jako termin filo- zoficzny, ale obejmuje swoim znaczeniem w szerszym i bardziej potocznym rozumie- niu wszystko to, co przynależy do sfery irracjonalnej rzeczywistości, co jest zwią- zane z płaszczyzną wartości, wchodzących często w zakres sakralnego. Zdarzeniom i przedmiotom z tego świata nadaje się często znaczenie głębsze, odsyłające do transcendencji; to, co fizyczne wskazuje na metafizyczne, konstytuuje stosunek boha- tera lirycznego do rzeczywistości irracjo- nalnej, do Absolutu, który może pozostać nieokreślonym Ignotum lub też Bogiem rozumianym w naszej kulturze jako Bóg religii chrześcijańskiej. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 107 III Część praktyczną mojego wywodu stanowi analiza sześciu wierszy Rose Ausländer pod kątem zawartych w nich aspektów metafi- zycznych. Prześledzę ukonstytuowane w poniższych lirykach sygnały duchowego, starając się odczytać ich głębsze znaczenie semantyczne, jak i ewentualne konkretyza- cje wyznaniowe oraz odwołania do tradycji biblijnej. Mit Fragen Ich komme mit Dornenfragen blutarmer Sonne Disteln und Wind mit der Ameisenkönigin und ihrem empörter Heer mit Fragen woher wohin mit dem Hügel unterm Stein mit zuckender Kerze Talglippen Fragen aus Qualm mit der erwürgten Liebe mit dem Scherben von deinen Augen geraubt darüber der Geierschrei ich komme zu wem mit Fragen warum wozu (Kurz 2003, s. 66) Wiersz otwiera na transcendencję, jest zwrotem ku komuś, od kogo bohater li- ryczny spodziewa się uzyskać odpowiedź na dręczące go pytania („Dornenfragen”), dotyczące kwestii egzystencjalnych, tego, skąd pochodzi i ku czemu zmierza („mit Fragen woher wohin”). Dopiero czwarta zwrotka zawiera bezpośredni zwrot ku nieokreślonemu Ty; status adresata jest więc nie do końca jasny. W ostatniej strofie „ja” liryczne zastanawia się, do kogo ma się udać ze swoimi pytaniami dotyczącymi sensu. Zarysowana w wierszu sytuacja liryczna jest przesycona niepewnością, brakiem orientacji egzystencjalnej i sensu, nawet w pewnym sensie beznadziejnością, osamot- nieniem we wszechświecie. Brak poczucia tożsamości podmiotu mówiącego otwiera go jednak na poszukiwania i zakłada tym samym możliwość uzyskania odpowiedzi na nurtujące go pytania. Sięgnięcie do wyrażenia „Dornen” (‘ciernie’) ma na celu wzmocnienie poetyckiego wyrazu wypo- wiedzi oraz wzbudzenie skojarzeń z koroną cierniowa Jezusa. Ten zabieg poetycki podkreśla cierpienie związane z pytania- mi, które „ja” liryczne nosi w sobie i które wyraża, posługując się słowem o konotacji biblijnej. Przywołanie ujemnie waloryzo- wanych elementów natury „blutarme Son- ne” (‘anemiczne słońce’), „Disteln” (‘oset’) oraz zjawisk przyrody „Wind” (‘wiatr’) potęguje opis doznań lirycznego bohatera, zaznacza jego zanurzenie w świecie doczes- nym i pewne związanie z materią. Również kolejne obiekty przyrody nieożywionej: „Hügel” (‘wzgórze, pagórek’), „Stein” (‘ka- mień’), jak i ożywionej „Ameisenkönigin” (‘królowa mrówek’), „Geierschrei” (‘krzyk sępów’) są włączone w wewnętrzne prze- życia podmiotu lirycznego. Złowrogi krzyk sępów z całą pewnością nie zwiastuje ni- czego dobrego, ale jest symbolem zła, które otacza bohatera wiersza. Na szczególne podkreślenie zasługuje zwrot („Ich komme […] mit zuckender Kerze”), gdyż drgający płomień świecy ewokuje znaczenie sym- boliczne i wydaje się być tutaj synonimem przemijania, niestałości i ulotności życia, jakiejś niepewności, a zarazem tlącej się E. A. Piasta. ASPEKTY METAFIZYCZNE W POEZJI ROSE AUSLÄNDER 108 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA jeszcze nadziei na światło poznania. Tym nikłym płomykiem, który w każdej chwili może zgasnąć, błądzący próbuje rozświetlić mroki życia. Interpretacja ta wydaje się słuszna, gdyż w tej samej strofie pojawia się zwrot „Fragen aus Qualm” (‘pytania z gęstego dymu’), który wskazuje na wielką ciemność, w jakiej znajduje się bohater liryczny. Ciemność ta nie jest jedynie zewnętrzna i nie oznacza braku fizyczne- go światła, ale jest natury wewnętrznej i obrazuje mroki duchowe. Gęsty dym uniemożliwia poznanie Prawdy, której bo- hater szuka z wielkim niepokojem. Zostaje wprowadzony tutaj dychotomiczny podział na świat zewnętrzny, którego przedmiotami „ja” liryczne posługuje się dla zobrazowa- nia własnej sytuacji, oraz świat wewnętrzny, duchowy, skierowany ku transcendencji, która jest za zasłoną i ku której trzeba się przedzierać. Kolejnym zwrotem mającym głęboką wymowę semantyczną jest „mit der erwürgten Liebe” (‘z uduszoną miłością’). Zostaje wprowadzona tutaj wyraźna kwali- fikacja aksjologiczna, chociaż ta miłość nie jest idealna, żywa i bez skazy. Wyrażenie to może być rozumiane na dwa sposoby: jako przyznanie się przez bohatera lirycznego, że jego miłość nie jest doskonała, ale została z jego winy „erwürgt” (‘uduszona’). Może też być skargą i wyznaniem, że ktoś z zewnątrz odrzucił jego miłość i nie pozwolił na jej rozwój. Również tę sprawę włącza „ja” liryczne w swój pełen niepokoju monolog. Zwrot „ich komme […] mit dem Scherben / von deinen Augen geraubt” (‘przychodzę z odłamkiem ukradzionym z twoich oczu’) jest jedynym zwrotem do adresata, ku któ- remu kierowane są wszystkie pytania, co skłania do przypuszczeń, że nie jest nim drugi człowiek, lecz Bóg, gdyż tylko On jest w stanie udźwignąć egzystencjalne pytania człowieka. Bohater wiersza czuje z nim pewną więź, ma coś, jakiś odłamek, który go z nim łączy. Fakt ten nie niweluje jednak niepewności co do Jego istnienia. Jak wyka- zała analiza, dopiero dotarcie do głębokich sensów utworu pozwala na stwierdzenie jego odniesienia do sfery metafizycznej. Respekt Ich habe keinen Respekt vor dem Wort Gott Habe großen Respekt vor dem Wort das mich erschuf damit ich Gott helfe die Welt zu erschaffen (Kurz 2003, s. 68) W powyższym liryku już na poziomie słownictwa „Gott” (‘Bóg’), „erschaffen” (‘stworzyć’) ujawnia się jego metafizycz- ny aspekt zakładający istnienie Absolutu, chociaż pierwsza zwrotka zawiera protest przeciw Bogu. Bohater liryczny wyznaje, że samo słowo Bóg nic dla niego nie znaczy. Dopiero Jego dzieła, a szczególnie dzieło stworzenia człowieka, o czym jest mowa w drugiej zwrotce, są w stanie wzbudzić u niego respekt. „Ja” liryczne zakłada więc istnienie Boga, wnioskując o nim na pod- stawie świata zewnętrznego. Stworzona i widzialna rzeczywistość jest więc świade- ctwem o niewidzialnym Bogu. W tym kon- tekście natychmiast nasuwają się słowa z Biblii, które są w jakimś stopniu semantycz- nym odpowiednikiem konstatacji zawartej w drugiej zwrotce: „Z wielkości i piękna stworzeń poznaje się przez podobieństwo ich Stwórcę” (Mdr 13,5). Bóg więc daje ludziom poprzez rzeczy stworzone trwałe świadectwo o sobie (por. Rz 1,19–20). I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 109 Bohater wiersza widzi rację i sens swoje- go istnienia w udzielaniu Bogu pomocy w stwarzaniu świata. Takie przeświadczenie nie jest jednak negacją wszechmocy i samo- wystarczalności Boga, ale świadomością, iż człowiek jest powołany do współudziału w kształtowaniu ziemi i wypełnianiu zlecenia bożego: „Czyńcie sobie ziemię poddaną” (Rdz 1,28). Budowana w wierszu sytua- cja liryczna odwzorowuje więc biblijny pierwowzór. Wizja człowieka zawarta w utworze stanowi jego dowartościowanie i wywyższenie, jest on według niej jedno- cześnie stwórcą i stworzeniem. Bóg zaś zyskuje szacunek i respekt za względu na swoje dzieła, a nie ze względu na siebie sa- mego. Zakres poszukiwań metafizycznego wymiaru koncentruje się w analizowanym wierszu na Bogu i Jego stworzeniu, które współtworzy z Nim świat i ma udział w Jego dziele. Preisen Preisen die Erde und ihre unaufhörlichen Wunder Sonne Mond Gestirne und was dahinter dichtet Die Menschenbrüder aufnehmen im Herzgefäß unsre winzige Ewigkeit (Kurz 2003, s. 68) Wiersz zawiera dwie perspektywy, jedną odnoszącą się do rzeczywistości widzialnych, świata materialnego, do którego wychwalania jest zachętą: „Erde” (‘ziemia’), „Sonne” (‘słońce’), „Mond” (‘księżyc’), „Gestirne” (‘ciała niebieskie’), „Menschenbrüder” (‘bracia w człowie- czeństwie, bliźni’). Podmiot liryczny wielbi nieustanne cuda ziemi, o czym jest mowa w trzecim wersie pierwszej zwrotki. Chociaż słowo cuda zostało zaczerpnięte z leksyki religijnej, nie odwołuje się tutaj do rzeczywistości transcendentnej, ale służy wzmocnieniu wymowy poetyckiej i wyraża zdumienie nad pięknem ziemi. Sytuacja liryczna przedstawiona w wierszu odwo- łuje się jeszcze do drugiej rzeczywistości, która jest natury duchowej, co ujawnia się szczególnie w trzecim i czwartym wersie trzeciej zwrotki: „im Herzgefäß / unsere winzige Ewigkeit” (‘w naczyniu serca / na- sza malutka wieczność’). Bohater liryczny stwierdza istnienie w nas czegoś, co nie przemija, co trwa wiecznie. Ten zalążek wieczności odnajduje w swoim własnym sercu, czym wyraża przeświadczenie o transcendentnej naturze człowieka. Kon- kluzję tę poprzedzają słowa mówiące o tym, aby być otwartym na bliźnich. Inni ludzie są postrzegani przez „ja” liryczne jako bracia, współbracia w człowieczeństwie. Wymowa aksjologiczna tej wypowiedzi jest kompatybilna z biblijnym nakazem miłości bliźniego. W toku analizy można stwier- dzić, że wiersz ujawnia sensy metafizyczne bez odwołania się do Boga, choćby nawet implicite. Nawiązania w sferze aksjologii zdradzają jednak jego religijną – zgodną z przesłaniem Biblii – wymowę. *** Gott Schöpfer aller Dinge Du bist nicht gut Du bist nicht schlecht Du bist Du gabst mir Kraft zu leben E. A. Piasta. ASPEKTY METAFIZYCZNE W POEZJI ROSE AUSLÄNDER 110 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA nicht genug zu leben ewiglich Gott (Kurz 2003, s. 69) Wiersz jest utrzymany w tonie mod- litewnym, stanowi bezpośredni zwrot do adresata, którym jest Bóg – Stwórca wszystkich rzeczy, gdyż „On rzekł i zo- stały stworzone” (Ps 148, 5). Z utworu da się wyczytać przeświadczenie, że Bóg jest całkowicie transcendentny, przekraczający wszelkie ludzkie wyobrażenia, stąd zasad- na, choć dość zaskakująca konstatacja boha- tera lirycznego: „Du bist nicht / gut / Du bist nicht / schlecht / Du bist” (‘nie jesteś / dobry / nie jesteś / zły / Ty jesteś’). Ta ambiwalen- cja jest w swojej wymowie semantycznej tyko pozorna. Bohater wyznaje poprzez zastosowanie przeciwieństwa absolutną inność Boga i rozumie, że pozostaje On całkowicie nieadekwatny wobec wszelkich ludzkich wyobrażeń, dlatego powstrzymuje się od nich i przyjmuje a priori Jego istnie- nie, stwierdzając „Du bist” (‘Ty jesteś’), co jest zgodne z biblijnym świadectwem, które daje o sobie Bóg: „Jestem, który Je- stem” (Wj 3,14). Mircea Eliade odnosząc się do tych słów pisze, że odpowiedź Boga jest bardzo tajemnicza. Nawiązuje On do swojego sposobu istnienia, nie objawiając jednocześnie swojej osoby. Można po- wiedzieć jedynie, że imię Boga sugeruje totalność bytu i Istniejącego (por. Eliade 2002, s. 170). Druga zwrotka jest intym- nym dialogiem ze Stwórcą, odnosi się do sytuacji bohatera lirycznego, który wyznaje, iż otrzymał od Boga siły do życia, ale nie wystarczą one, aby mógł żyć wiecznie. To krótkie stwierdzenie ma bogatą wymowę semantyczną, gdyż – po pierwsze – zawiera wiarę w możliwość życia wiecznego, co jest głównym założeniem wszystkich religii, nie wyłączając religii chrześcijańskiej. A po drugie jest stwierdzeniem przemijalności i przygodności bytu ludzkiego, który nie ma życia wiecznego sam z siebie. Ponadto „ja” liryczne uznaje swą zależność od Boga i swoje pochodzenie od Niego. Utwór jest więc zapisem doświadczenia duchowego, stanowi próbę zwerbalizowania przeżyć natury duchowej, jest nakierowany na trans- cendencję. W tej krótkiej zwrotce zawarta jest koncepcja życia tu i tam, przy czym tamten świat waloryzowany jest dodatnio, stanowi wartość, którą bohater liryczny pragnie zdobyć i wyraża żal, iż sam nie jest w stanie tego osiągnąć. Przedstawiony w wierszu obraz Boga ujawnia proweniencję biblijną, chociaż brak w nim bezpośrednich odwołań do motywów biblijnych. Cała kon- cepcja aksjologiczna pozostaje w zgodności z przesłaniem Biblii, a w szczególności Starego Testamentu, gdyż to w nim jest mowa o dziele stworzenia. *** Erbarme dich Herr meiner Leere Schenk mir das Wort das eine Welt erschafft (Kurz 2003, s. 69) Powyższy wiersz otwiera incipit będący bezpośrednim zwrotem do Pana i można go zaliczyć do modlitwy poetyckiej. Prośba „Erbarme dich / Herr” (‘zmiłuj się / Panie’) przywołuje skojarzenie z Psalmami 51 i 57, które rozpoczynają się słowami „Zmiłuj się nade mną, Boże”. Wyznanie „ja” lirycznego jest więc zbieżne z wołaniem psalmisty. Bohater wiersza wyraża swoją niegodność, I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 111 zależność od Boga, potrzebę otrzymania od Niego zmiłowania, a więc jakiegoś daru i dobra duchowego, i wyznaje, iż jest w nim pustka, która wymaga miłosierdzia Boga. Druga zwrotka zawierająca prośbę, aby Bóg podarował człowiekowi słowo, które stwarza świat, otwiera dwie możliwości interpretacyj- ne. Pierwszą byłoby uznanie, iż słowo Boga jest stwórcze, że On stwarza mocą swego słowa, co przypomina zapisane na kartach Biblii zawołanie: „Niechaj się stanie” (Rdz. 1,3) oraz „Oto Ja stwarzam nowe niebiosa i nową ziemię” (J 4,43–54). Bohater liryczny, wyrażając w pierwszej zwrotce swoją we- wnętrzną pustkę, prosi o słowo, które jest w stanie napełnić życiem, a więc stworzyć jego wewnętrzny świat. Druga interpretacja zakłada możliwość odczytania prośby boha- tera lirycznego, która byłaby skierowana na świat materialny, widzialny. Bohater prosi Boga o obdarzenie go słowem, które miałoby moc stworzenia świata. Można przypuszczać, że chodzi o możliwość stworzenia nowego, lepszego świata lub odnowienie starego. Obie interpretacje nie stoją ze sobą w sprzeczności, ale wzajemnie się uzupełniają. Mysterium Die Seele der Dinge lässt mich ahnen die Eigenheiten unendlicher Welten Beklommen such ich das Antlitz eines jeden Dinges und finde in jedem ein Mysterium Geheimnisse reden zu mir eine lebendige Sprache Ich höre das Herz des Himmels pochen in meinem Herzen (Kurz 2003, s. 70) Już sam tytuł przytoczonego wiersza niesie sensy transcendentne. Przeczucie tajemnicy najwyraźniej zaznacza aspekt wykraczający poza możliwości ludzkiego rozumu i doświadczenia. Aspekt ten znaj- duje potwierdzenie w dalszych słowach utworu, w których podmiot liryczny zakłada istnienie duszy we wszystkich otaczających rzeczach. Ta konstatacja pozwala mu prze- czuwać ‘właściwości nieskończonych świa- tów’ (die Eigenheiten / unendlicher Welten), czyli istnienie zarówno innego świata, jak i duchowy – i tym samym wprowadzający w wieczność – wymiar tego świata. Bohater wyznaje dalej, że niespokojnie, z niepew- nością i jakimś zakłopotaniem szuka oblicza każdej rzeczy, co każe przypuszczać, że kieruje on swój wzrok głębiej, pragnie po- znać duchowe właściwości rzeczy, dostrzec ich istotę. Dąży więc do totalnego oglądu, pragnie poznać całość. To ukierunkowanie epistemologiczne natrafia jednak na grani- ce. Bohater liryczny wyznaje zaraz, iż w każdej z rzeczy znajduje jakieś misterium, czyli tajemnicę, która jest wyznacznikiem transcendencji. Wyznanie bohatera zawarte w przedostatniej zwrotce, że tajemnice przemawiają do niego żywym językiem, oznacza, że ich istnienie uznaje za oczy- wiste i akceptuje tajemnice właśnie jako tajemnice, że dostrzega je wokół siebie. Ostatnia zwrotka, którą można przetłu- maczyć następująco: ‘Słyszę, jak serce nieba bije w moim sercu’, stanowi wyraźne podkreślenie transcendentnego wymiaru zarówno człowieka, jak i otaczającej go rzeczywistości. Jest to również przyjęcie perspektywy religijnej w światoodczuciu bohatera, ponieważ wyraz niebo użyty w tym kontekście ma wydźwięk jednoznacz- nie konfesyjny. Serce nieba stanowi bez E. A. Piasta. ASPEKTY METAFIZYCZNE W POEZJI ROSE AUSLÄNDER 112 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA wątpienia jakieś centrum, które może być synonimem Absolutu, a w ujęciu judeo- chrześcijańskim – Boga, którego siedziba jest sytuowana właśnie w niebie. Bohater liryczny czuje się wewnętrznie jedno z Nadprzyrodzonym, słyszy w swoim sercu bicie Jego serca, co może wskazywać na mistyczną perspektywę zjednoczenia duszy z Bogiem. IV Analizowane wiersze koncentrują się wo- kół zagadnień metafizycznych. Kreowane poprzez nie obrazy Boga odwołują się do biblijnego pierwowzoru zawartego w Piśmie Świętym, a przede wszystkim w Starym Testamencie, chociaż poetka sięga również do tradycji chrześcijańskiej. Częste są w nich odniesienia do Boga-Stwórcy oraz podkreślany jest współudział człowieka w dziele stworzenia. Perspektywa aksjolo- giczna stawia w centrum miłość do Boga wyrażaną w tęsknocie za Jego słowem oraz miłość do człowieka, uznającą go za brata. Jako stworzenie nie jest on samowystarczal- ny, jego istnienie nie jest wieczne, odczuwa on w sobie pustkę, którą tylko Bóg może wypełnić. „Ja” mówiące poetyckiego tekstu przyjmuje wobec Absolutu postawę zależ- ności, respektu i podziwu. Świat stworzony jawi się bohaterowi lirycznemu jako tajem- nica, która przemawia do niego w każdej rzeczy. Istotnym dla wymiaru duchowego tej poezji jest widzenie rzeczy materialnych i spraw tego świata w kontekście eschato- logicznym. W poezji ujawnia się system przekonań budowanych na Biblii. Odczy- tanie właściwych znaczeń ewokowanych przez teksty liryczne jest możliwe poprzez uwzględnienie Biblii jako pierwowzoru dla sytuacji lirycznych przedstawionych w wierszach. Wyraźnie zaznaczony jest w nich prymat sensów duchowych, po- szukiwanie tożsamości, wieczności, pełni, stwórczej mocy Boga. Słownictwo religijne analizowanych liryków jest dość ubogie. To raczej nawiązania w sferze aksjologii i poprzez aluzję do fragmentów biblijnych, np. wersów psalmu, budują ich aspekt me- tafizyczny, który znajduje konkretyzację w przeświadczeniach właściwych dla tradycji judeochrześcijańskiej. Bibliografia COLIN, A., 1990. „Wo die reinsten Worte reifen“ – Zur Sprachproblematik deutsch-jüdischer Holocaust-Lyriker aus der Bukowina. In: Ed. G. DIETMAR, A. SCHWOB, 1990. Die Bukowina. Studien zu einer versunkenen Literaturlandschaft. Tübingen: Francke. „Cóż za Księga!” Biblia w literaturze niemie- ckojęzycznej od Oświecenia po współczesność, 2012. Red. M. KLAŃSKA, J. KITA-HUBER, P. ZARYCHTA. Kraków: Homini. Die Bibel in der deutschsprachigen Literatur des 20. Jahrhunderts, 2000. Red. H. SCHMIDIN- GER. Mainz: Matthias Grünewald Verlag. ELIADE, M., 2002. Geschichte der religiösen Ideen. Bd. 1. Freiburg, Basel, Wien: Herder. GARHAMMER, E., 2011. Zweifel im Dienst der Hoffnung. Poesie und Theologie. Würzburg: Echter Verlag. HELFRICH, C., 1995. „Es ist ein Aschensom- mer in der Welt“. Rose Ausländer. Biographie. Weinheim-Berlin: Quadriga Verlag. Ich höre das Herz des Himmels. Moderne Psal- men, 2003. Red. P. K. KURZ. Düsseldorf: Patmos Verlag GmbH & Co. KG. JASIŃSKA-WOJTKOWSKA, M., 2003. Ho- ryzonty literackiego sacrum. Lublin: KUL. KRISTENSSON, J., 2000. Identitätssuche in Rose Ausländers Spätlyrik. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang Verlag. KUSCHEL, K. J., 1997. Im Spiegel der Dich- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 113 ter. Mensch. Gott und Jesus in der Literatur des 20. Jahrhunderts. Düsseldorf: Patmos. KUSCHEL, K. J., 2007. Gott liebt es, sich zu verstecken. Literarische Skizzen von Lessing bis Muschg. Stuttgart: Grünewald. LANGENHORST, G., 2005. Theologie und Literatur. Ein Handbuch. Darmstadt: Wissenschaft- liche Buchgesellschaft. LANGENHORST, G., 2009. „Ich gönne mir das Wort Gott“. Annäherungen an Gott in der Gegenwartsliteratur. Freiburg im Breisgau: Herder. MACIEJEWSKI, M., 1991. „Ażeby ciało powróciło w słowo”. Próba kerygmatycznej inter- pretacji literatury. Lublin: KUL. MERK, S., 2011. Die postapokalyptische Ge- nese. Lineare und zyklische (End)Zeitvorstellungen in Roes Ausländers Gedichten. Frankfurt am Main: Peter Lang Verlag. MOTTÉ, M., 2008. Auf der Suche nach dem verlorenen Gott. Mainz: Matthias Grünewald Verlag. Pismo Święte Starego i Nowego Testamentu. 2002. Poznań: Wydawnictwo Pallottinum. SAWICKI, S., 1981. Poetyka. Interpretacja. Sacrum. Warszawa: PWN. SAWICKI, S., 2007. Wartość – sacrum – Nor- wid 2. Studia i szkice aksjologiczno-literackie, Lublin: RW KUL. ZARĘBIANKA, Z., 1992. Poezja wymiaru sanctum. Kamieńska – Jankowski – Twardow- ski. Lublin: KUL. ZARĘBIANKA, Z., 2001. Tropy sacrum w literaturze XX wieku. Bydgoszcz: Homini. ZARĘBIANKA, Z., 2008. Czytanie sacrum. Kraków–Rzym: Instytut Wydawniczy „Maxi- mum”. Ewa Anna Piasta Jan Kochanowski University in Kielce, Poland Research interests: German-speaking culture, communication arts, trade literature, music and spirituality METAPHYSICAL ASPECTS OF ROSE AUSLÄNDER’S POETRY Summary This article analyzes six poems by Rose Ausländer, a poet of Jewish origin, who lived in the years 1901–1988. She was born at Chernivtsi (then in the Austro-Hungarian Empire), and died in Düs- seldorf (Germany). Ausländer wrote in German and in English. The aim of this paper is to discuss the meta- physical aspects of Ausländer’s poems and to demonstrate that these aspects are manifested on the semantic, lexical and axiological levels. My interest is in the spiritual experience evoked by her poetry, resulting from a transcendence- and Absolute-oriented existence, experienced in terms of mystery. Another objective is to determine whether the said metaphysical experience receives religious specification. The ergocentric method, as proposed by Zofia Zarębianka in her research into the sacred in literature, is based on the assumption that this phenomenon is inherent in the text itself and can thus be investigated without referring to Ewa Anna Piasta Jano Kochanowskio universitetas Kielcuose, Lenkija Moksliniai interesai: vokiečiakalbė kultūra, correspondence des arts, literatūros sąsajos su muzika ir dvasine kultūra METAFIZINIAI ROSE’OS AUSLÄNDER POEZIJOS ASPEKTAI Santrauka Analizės objektas – šeši Rose’os Ausländer eilėraščiai. Tai žydų kilmės poetė, gyvenusi 1901– 1988 metais, gimusi Chernivtsi (dar Austrijos–Ven- grijos imperijoje), mirusi Diuseldorfe (Vokietija). Ausländer rašė vokiečių ir anglų kalbomis. Šio darbo tikslas yra aptarti metafizinius Rose’os Ausländer eilėraščių aspektus ir įrodyti, kad jie išreikšti semantiškai, leksiškai ir aksiolo- giškai. Tyrėjai rūpi dvasinė patirtis, kurią sukelia poetės tekstai, gimstantys iš transcendentinės egzistencijos, nukreiptos į amžiną egzistavimą. Kitas tyrimo tikslas yra nustatyti, ar metafizinė patirtis gauna religinių bruožų. Zofija Zarębianka šventumą literatūroje tiria ergocentriniu metodu, grindžiamu prielaida, kad šis reiškinys yra labai glaudžiai susijęs su tekstu, todėl gali būti tiriamas be išorinių aplinkybių ar kilmės paieškų. Tai padeda labiau susikoncentruoti į patį šventumo reiškinį literatūriniame tekste. E. A. Piasta. ASPEKTY METAFIZYCZNE W POEZJI ROSE AUSLÄNDER 114 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA external circumstances or searching therein for its origins. This allows for a greater concentration on the very phenomenon of the sacred as present in a literary text. The analysis of the poems shows that refer- ences to God the Creator tend to be frequent, and that human participation in the act of creation is repeatedly stressed. The speaker assumes a posture of dependence on, respect for and admiration of the Absolute. Significant to the spiritual dimension of this poetry is seeing material reality and the affairs “of this world” in eschatological terms. Ausländer’s poetry reveals a system of Bible-based beliefs, such as those concerning the love for one’s neighbour. An adequate reading of the meanings evoked in Ausländer’s lyrical texts becomes possible when the Bible is seen as the prototype of the lyrical situ- ations presented in her poems. The primacy of spiri- tual meanings, as well as the search for identity, eternity, fullness and the creative powers of God, become clear indeed. The religious vocabulary of the poems under discussion is rather poor. Instead, it is axiological references and allusions to Biblical fragments, such as psalm verses, that construct the poems’ metaphysical aspects. These are then made more specific with the use of notions typical of the Judeo-Christian tradition. KEY WORDS: poetry, metaphysics, transcen- dence, Rose Ausländer. Eilėraščių analizė parodė, kad dažnos nuorodos į Dievą kūrėją, nuolat pabrėžiamas žmogaus daly- vavimas kūrybos akte. Kalbėtojo pozicija demons- truoja pagarbą ir susižavėjimą Absoliutui. Svarbus dvasinis poezijos aspektas tas, kad į tikrovę ir „šio pasaulio“ reikalus žvelgiama eschatologiškai. Ausländer poezija atskleidžia Biblija grįstų įsitikinimų sistemą, pavyzdžiui, apie meilę artimui. Įmanomas adekvatus Ausländer lyrinių tekstų reikšmių skaitymas, kai Biblija laikoma lyrinių situacijų, pateiktų eilėraščiuose, prototipu. Aiškiai išreiškiamas dvasinių prasmių pirmumas, amžiny- bės, pilnatvės ir Dievo kūrybinių galių ieškojimas. Religinis eilėraščių žodynas gana skurdus. Tai aksiologinės nuorodos ir aliuzijos į Biblijos fragmentus, pavyzdžiui, psalmes. Tai specifinės aliuzijos, atspindinčios tipišką judėjų ir krikščionių tradicijų suvokimą. Jomis grindžiami metafiziniai eilėraščių aspektai. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: poezija, metafizika, transcendencija, Rose Ausländer. Gauta 2012 04 30 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 115 Artūras Cechanovičius Vilnius University Kaunas Faculty of Humanities Muitinės g. 8, LT-44280 Kaunas, Lithuania E-mail: arturascechanovicius@gmail.com Research interests: archetypal literary criticism, literary translation, self-translation Jadvyga Krūminienė Vilnius University Kaunas Faculty of Humanities Muitinės g. 8, LT-44280 Kaunas, Lithuania E-mail: hedw_bush@yahoo.com Research interests: hermeneutics, semiotics, phenomenology, mythopoetics and theopoetics, literary translation, self-translation VLADIMIR NABOKOV’S SELF-TRANSLATED LOLITA: REVISITING THE ORIGINAL ALLITERATIVE MODES This paper is a case study comparison of Vladimir Nabokov’s self-translated Russian version of his English novel Lolita with its original text within the frame of the theory of literary transla- tion. Here, self-translation is referred to as a branch of literary translation whose distinctive feature is that the work is both composed and translated by the same person. It is interesting to observe that, for the most part, the authors who translate their own works into another language are bilingual. Theoretical investigation into the field of self-translation is a recent endeavour; the term only appeared around 1976. Before it appeared in A Dictionary for the Analysis of Literary Translation, self-translation was thought to be related to bilingualism, and was therefore approached from the perspective of linguistics. This paper analyses some alliterative modes, including suballiteration, produced by Nabokov in the two versions of Lolita. Throughout, the process of translation is viewed as a “two-stage reading-writing activity.” The novel’s translation into Lithuanian, which was performed from Nabokov’s Russian translation, is used to show the difference between translation and self- translation, and to reveal the clash or the interplay between the foreign and the domestic in the development of alliterative appeal. KEY WORDS: literary translation, self-translation, alliteration, suballiterative patterns, revisiting, original modes, author-translator, ordinary translator, double writing, virtuoso rendering. When considering the phenomenon of self- translation, it should be noted that the term is not to be found in the history and theory of translation until its first appearance thirty-six years ago, when it was offered by Anton Popovič in his A Dictionary for the Analysis of Literary Translation (1976). He defined it as “translation of an original work into another language by the author himself” (Popovič, cited in Santoyo 2006, 116 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA p. 22). According to Julio-César Santoyo, this field of translation was often regarded as “something absolutely marginal, a sort of cultural or literary oddity” (Santoyo 2006, p. 22). Rainier Grutman explains that such an attitude occurred because transla- tion scholars “thought it to be more akin to bilingualism than to translation proper” (Grutman 1998, p. 17), as in most cases it is bilingual authors who translate their own works into another language. As the history of literature shows, a number of authors have translated their own works: Thomas More (1478–1535), Étienne Dolet (1509–1541), Romain Gary (1914–1980), Carlo Goldoni (1707–1793), Samuel Beck- ett (1906–1989) and Vladimir Nabokov (1899–1977), to mention just a few. Grutman raises one of the most essential questions: “Why do some writers repeat in a second language what has already been said in their previous work?” (Grutman 1998, p. 18). He believes that such a task cannot be undertaken solely because of the author’s dissatisfaction with translations in general, nor even because of the material needs of exiles to receive financial gain. The scholar has no doubt that “there must be some ulte- rior motive that helps writers to overcome their initial reluctance” (Grutman 1998, p. 18). A similar question has been extended by Gian Mario Villalta, who stresses that there is a considerable difference between translation and self-translation. He relies on Brian T. Fitch’s idea that “once a writer produces a second linguistic version of a text, the first is incomplete without it” (Fitch 1988, p. 123). The scholar notes that in such a case, the complete work may only be represented by the original and the translation taken together. Grutman shares this opinion when treating the gen- eral process of translation as a “two-stage reading-writing activity,” and the process of self-translation as “double writing” (Grut- man 1998, p. 19). Villalta, in his turn, argues that self-translation is “the repetition of the process” (Villalta 2003). Nevertheless, he thinks that the author as translator does not merely repeat the process of writing, but takes advantage of the possibility “of gaining perspective, of adding meaning” (Villalta 2003). This development of per- spective or addition of meaning is related to the interaction between the original version and the translation: in other words, the two expressions of poetics. In Villalta’s words, “the author perceives the feasibility of real- izing a certain poetic form in one language but not in another… and wants to underline this aspect emphatically” (Villalta 2003). It should, however, be stressed that the self-translating writer or poet has a unique authority, allowing him/her “to bring novel- ties to the poetic horizon of the language of greater resistance” (Villalta 2003). This sug- gests that such writers not only shift from one language to another, but also transfer their works into another culture. Grutman cites Menakhem Perry, who maintains that “since the writer himself is the translator, he can allow himself bold shifts from the source text which, had it been done by an- other translator, probably would not have passed as an adequate translation” (Perry, cited in Grutman 1998, p. 18). This idea also reveals the relation between the two texts, i.e., the original and its translation, thereby suggesting that the translated text gains ad- ditional characteristics. The recreation of a literary text in another language and its ad- aptation to a different system of signs bring I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 117 in new literary, philosophical and cultural perspectives. Here, another problem comes into focus as well—namely, the problem of authorial freedom that is often demonstrated by a privileged author-translator. When the author translates his/her own work, it is “invested with an authority that not even an ‘approved’ translation by diverse hands can match” (Grutman 1998, p. 19). In self-translation it is difficult to distinguish between the author and the translator: “here the translator is the author, the translation is an original, the foreign is the domestic and vice versa” (Hokeson and Munson 2007, p. 161). Self-translation demonstrates a play- ful collusion between various fictive and cultural horizons. According to Chiara Montini, bilingual authors and readers have a “completely different experience of the fictive universe” (Montini 2010, p. 307). In fact, this “conjoined twins” lit- erary phenomenon crosses the boundaries of monolingual literature and turns to be a “process of multiple translingual revision” (Rosengrant 1995). On the whole, in the case of Nabokov’s Lolita, the very con- cepts of “foreign” and “domestic” escape clarity, as the original version was writ- ten in English—a foreign language to its author—and only then translated into his native Russian. Indeed, it is complicated to distinguish between domestication and foreignization in the process of the novel’s translation. Vladimir Nabokov is a self-translating author who began his career as a translator by rendering the works of foreign writers into his native language, often “re-Russian- ing” the original texts. He started translat- ing his own works after his Russian novel Camera Obscura (1932) was translated into English by Winifred Roy in 1936. The author was so dissatisfied with the transla- tion that he decided to translate his own works himself. He practised self-translation between the Russian and English languages. After his literary career was launched, Nabokov became anxious to translate more of his Russian fiction into English. Yet he was unwilling to do it himself, “since his experience with the Englishing of his first two novels had persuaded him just how de- manding and distracting an exercise it was” (Grayson 2000, p. 989). The main difficulty was, as the writer confessed to his transla- tor Michael Scammell, to fight against the creative temptation to amend the work in the process of translation. It should be admitted that Nabokov did a lot of work in the field of translation. He “re-Englished” his few stories which were translated by other translators. According to Grayson, Nabokov took this activity very seriously, since he intended his English translations to serve as the basis for their translation into other languages. That was the process which he tried to control as much as his competence allowed. Jane Grayson claims that, in reality, Nabokov “quite often valued the retention of the stylistic effect more highly than the retention of meaning” (Grayson 2000, p. 990). Jenefer Coates, in her turn, argues that “Nabokov makes adjustments by rewriting or rephrasing to create different [and new] effects” (Coates 1999, p. 99). It is worth noting that, as Grayson puts it, the writer often performed “a virtuoso backward somersault” (Grayson 2000, p. 990) while rendering his best known novel, Lolita, into Russian. The Russian translation was first A. Cechanovičius, J. Krūminienė. VLADIMIR NABOKOV’S SELF-TRANSLATED LOLITA 118 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA published in 1967. Yet before translating the novel, he performed a similar feat in the rendering of his autobiography. This became more a complement than a transla- tion, because “the act of writing of events in the language in which he had originally experienced them generated further, richer recall” (ibid.), thus confirming the insight of Villalta that self-translation allows the writer to expand his/her work and gain dif- ferent perspectives. Coates states that there were cases when Nabokov created different versions of his English texts, sometimes even doing back-translation from English into Russian and then again back into English. For example, his Speak Memory: An Autobiography Revisited (1966), which originally was an English text titled Con- clusive Evidence (1951), was self-translated into Russian as Drugie Berega in 1954 and then recomposed in English (Coates 1999, p. 99). Once, when accused of “self-contradic- tion in his theory and practice of transla- tion by preaching fidelity and practising freedom”, in his defence Nabokov mused that “self-translation… involved the mature writer revisiting the ‘greener fruits’ of his youth” (Coates 1999, p. 99). Hence, being well familiar with the original inspiration woven into the text, the author had the sole power to recreate the work by adjusting it and designing new effects for an audience different in geographic, national, social, linguistic and temporal terms. After considering the theoretical insights on self-translation, Nabokov’s theoretical views on translation and his practical trans- latory attempts, it is reasonable to proceed with the analysis of the translation of the novel Lolita into Russian and to describe the specificity of Nabokov’s approach to self-translation. Nabokov’s style of writing demonstrates an unusual complexity from the linguistic, textual and aesthetic perspectives. The sty- listic instruments he employs are often aes- thetically sophisticated. It may be claimed that the reader’s attention is immediately attracted by the writer’s specific choices of lexical items with respect to the acoustic effect they create. Hence, one of the main stylistic devices in his texts is alliteration ac- companied by assonance. Nabokov under- stood that alliteration is an essential part of meaning and has an important semantic and rhetorical function. On the other hand, for him, an added alliterative appeal is the in- strument to evoke a challenging game with the reader. Indeed, in his Lolita, Nabokov often develops a polyphonic sound orches- tration. His highly elaborated alliterative modes demonstrate a playful repetition of the initial, medial and final consonants and/ or syllables. As Judson Rosengrant argues, the latter “either echo the initial groupings or establish new linkages, thereby creating a harmonious acoustic environment, a rich choir of sounds” (Rosengrant 1994). In this paper, Nabokov’s alliterative patterns will be analysed in the following order: first, those found in the original Lo- lita, followed by their equivalents (if any) in the Russian translation performed by the author himself. Consider the following alliterative excerpt: Valechka—by now shedding torrents of tears tinged with the mess of her rainbow make-up—started to fill anyhow a trunk, and two suitcases, and a bursting carton, and visions of putting on my mountain boots and taking a running kick at her I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 119 rump were of course impossible to put into execution with the cursed colonel hovering around all the time (Nabokov 1991, p. 29; emphasis added). The sentence is rather long and is composed of segments distinguished by punctuation. In the first segment of the sentence, which starts with the first dash and ends with the second dash, there is an obvious alliteration of the initial and nearly final t in “torrents” and the initial t in “tears” and “tinged” which is complemented by the medial sonorous r in “torrents” and the medial r in “tears” connected to the initial r in “rainbow”. Moreover, the suffix -ing in “shedding” is somewhat repeated in the word “tinged”. Taken together, these sounds create a flowing effect—the consonant t does not protrude to distort the melodious sound patterning of the whole sentence, thus avoiding a choppy effect. The allitera- tion of the initial m in “mess” and “make- up” should also be considered. Nabokov weaves the auditory patterning of the text very inventively as is seen in the follow- ing: the initial r in “rainbow” effectively alliterates with the medial r in “torrents” and “tears”. This also serves as a relief for the reader before another alliterative beating of the consonant t in the second segment, produced by the two medial t in “started”, the initial t in “trunk” and “two”, and the medial t in “suitcases”, “bursting”, “carton”, “putting”, “mountain”, “boots”, and the initial t in “taking”. This segment also con- tains alliteration of the consonant k, which connects the two segments—it is produced by the medial k in “make-up”, the final consonant k in “trunk”, the medial one in “suitcases”, and the initial one in “carton”, continues by the medial k in “taking”, both the initial and final k in “kick”, the initial k in “course”, the medial one in “execution”, and the two initial consonants in “cursed” and “colonel”. The similarity between the sounding of the voiceless consonants t and k, whose alliterations intermingle in the sen- tence, contributes to the reinforced effect. Further, on the phonological level, the abundance of t and k expresses the particular emotion experienced by Humbert Humbert, since in the reader’s mind the pattern may evoke the concept “attack.” Throughout the whole excerpt, the emotional aspect and Humbert Humbert’s determination are also supported by the alliteration of the sonorous r, which has a heroic connotation—as was noticed by the French Renaissance Pléiade poets. Here, certainly, it bears an element of parody and reveals the protagonist’s pseudo-heroism as he wishes to attack his wife from behind. The alliteration of the sonorous r in “trunk”, the initial r in “running” and “rump” and the medial r in “hovering” and “around” helps to create a parodic movement. It should be stressed that the rendering of this acoustic effect would pose a challenge for an ordinary translator. Finally, the alliterative phrase “the cursed colonel” used at the end of the sentence is the chief milestone in Nabokov’s attempt to trick the reader within the game of reading. First, with the help of the abundant repeti- tion of the consonant t the author ironically describes the departure of Humbert Hum- bert’s wife Valeria, who, despite “shedding torrents of tears,” goes on filling “a trunk, and two suitcases, and a bursting carton.” In fact, H. H. does not really feel hurt, but rather insulted, “because matters of legal and illegal conjunction were for [him] alone to decide” (Nabokov 1991, p. 28). A. Cechanovičius, J. Krūminienė. VLADIMIR NABOKOV’S SELF-TRANSLATED LOLITA 120 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA The repetition of the consonant t also involves the reader and seduces him/her to identify with and pity the protagonist, which is one of the key elements in Nabokov’s parody. This desire for identification is best revealed in the phrase “the cursed colonel” describing Humbert Humbert’s rival, where the alliteration of the initial voiceless con- sonant k emphasises the seemingly evil nature of Valeria’s lover. In fact, Humbert Humbert blames the colonel for preventing him from enacting his revenge and thereby allows him to justify to himself the wish to do harm to his wife. As translator, Nabokov successfully retains this effect by rendering the excerpt as follows: Валечка – уже к этому времени проливавшaя потоки слез, окрашенные размазанной радугой ее косметики – принялась набивать вещами кое-как сундук, два чемодана, лопавшуюся картонку, – и желание надеть горные сапоги и с разбега пнуть ее в круп было, конечно, нео суще ствимо, покаме ст прок лятый полковник возился поблизости (Набоков 2010, p. 40; emphasis added). Although here the segments are not identically re-alliterated, a number of char- acteristics coincide. There is one dominant consonant in both the original and the translated versions, namely, the voiceless consonant t in English and the voiceless consonant к in Russian. The author-trans- lator makes a similar harmonious transition in the sentence to create the reinforced effect achieved in the original. Firstly, the initial consonant в (v) in “Валечка” and “времени” and two medial в (v) in “проливавшaя”, whose initial п (p) is al- literated with the initial п (p) in “потоки”, draw the reader in. Secondly, the me- dial sonorous р (r) in “проливавшaя” and “окрашенные” together with the latter’s medial sonorous double нн (n) and the me- dial double нн (n) in “размазанной” soften the harsh aspect of the alliterated п (p) and кр (kr). In the Russian translation, Nabokov connects the two segments, namely the par- ticipial clause “проливавшaя потоки слез” (“shedding torrents of tears”) and the past simple indicative “принялась набивать” (“started to fill”), both related to Valeria, by the alliteration of the initial consonant п (p). Just like in the original, the consonant т (t) is echoed in the chain of words when H. H. expresses his “vision” of kicking his wife. Here the alliterated consonant п (p) plays the role of a framing consonant: “пнуть” and “круп”. Moreover, similarly to the original, this segment possesses its own alliteration which also strengthens the expression of H. H.’s wish to take revenge on his wife. It is reinforced by the allitera- tion of the initial г (g) in “горные” and the nearly final г (g) in “сапоги” and “разбега”. According to Alex Preminger, “[allitera- tion] on the sound or sound combination may be followed by, alternate with, or in- clude another alliterative sequence (parallel or crossed alliteration)” (Preminger, cited in Rosengrant 1995). In the Russian phrase ex- pressing Humbert Humbert’s wish there is an additional case of alliteration, namely of the medial p (r) in “горные” and the initial p (r) in “разбега”, which makes the vocal play richer. The last string of alliteration in the Russian translation exceeds the original English text. The sequence of the words with four initial п (p) plus the assonance I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 121 of the vowel o with a single non-alliterated word in between has a beating effect on the reader’s ear, thereby making him/her feel the protagonist’s emotion more deeply and directing his/her attention to the figure of the colonel—as in the original. The harsh effect of the alliterated final and medial voiceless consonant т (t) in “покамест” and “проклятый” which accompanies the alliteration of the medial voiceless conso- nant к in “покамест” and “проклятый” and the medial plus the final voiceless consonant к in “полковник”, is taken over by the soft alliteration of the sonorous л (l). The alliterative chain of the consonant к begins in the first word of the sentence with the near final consonant к in “Валечка” and continues with the preposition “к”, the near final к in “потоки”, the medial к in “окрашенные”, the initial and nearly final к in “косметики”, three к consonants in “кое-как”, the final к in “сундук”, the ini- tial and nearly final к in “картонку”, the initial к in “круп” and “конечно”, and the already discussed sequence of “покамест проклятый полковник”. Just like in the original, Nabokov interweaves the alliter- ated consonants т (t) and к with the alliter- ated sonorous л (l) and н (n) to introduce a smooth shift in the emotion. To demonstrate how carefully and cre- atively the author’s translation of his novel was done, let us take the same excerpt, translated into Lithuanian by an ordinary translator. This will also help test the hy- pothesis that a bilingual author who trans- lates his works himself achieves a greater approximation to the original, both in form and content, than an ordinary translator does. Consider the Lithuanian translation: Valečka – jau ligi tolei priverkusi ašarų upelius, nusidažiusius išterliota jos kos- metikos vaivorykšte – suskato kaip pak- liuvo grūsti daiktus į skrynią, du lagami- nus, kartoninę dėžutę sprogstančiais šonais, – ir noras apsimauti alpinisto batus ir įsibėgėjus spirti jai į kryžkaulį, žinoma, buvo neįgyvendinamas, kol prakeiktas pulkininkas kuitėsi netoliese (Nabokovas 1990, p. 31; emphasis added). Although here the alliterative pattern- ing is poorer, the attempt is still made to perform it. The repetition of the voiceless consonant k in “Valečka”, “priverkusi”, “kosmetikos”, “vaivorykšte”, “suskato”, “kaip”, “pakliuvo”, “daiktus”, “skrynią”, “kartoninę” and, after a longer interval, in “kryžkaulį”, “kol”, “prakeiktas”, “pulki- ninkas” and “kuitėsi”, connects the separate segments of the sentence as in the case of the Russian Lolita. Even though this repeti- tion does not involve the reader as much as the original or its Russian translation do, nevertheless, it catches his/her attention. There is a case of assonance produced by the initial vowel a in “apsimauti” and “al- pinisto”, complemented by the voiceless consonants p and t that reveal Humbert Humbert’s determination to have his re- venge. In the second instance of alliteration, the initial consonant p in “prakeiktas” and “pulkininkas” bears the same meaning as in the source text, namely, it emphasises his emotion toward the colonel. There is also a rich alliteration of the medial sonorous l in “Valečka”, the intial l in “ligi”, the medial l in “tolei”, “upelius”, “išterliota”, “pakliuvo”, the initial l in “lagaminus”, the medial l in “alpinisto” and a nearly final l in “kryžkaulį”, the final l in “kol”, and the medial l in “pulkininkas” and “netoliese”. A. Cechanovičius, J. Krūminienė. VLADIMIR NABOKOV’S SELF-TRANSLATED LOLITA 122 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA The same may be said about the alliteration of the sonorous n. However, it should be noted that the Lithuanian translator has made two mis- takes. First, she uses the verb apsimauti to- gether with the noun batus; this is incorrect and should be replaced by the verb apsiauti. In addition, there is a case of logical mis- translation: the Lithuanian noun kryžkaulis is not used to figuratively describe what is meant by rump. In the context of a human body, it means “the part of the body that you sit on” (OALD). As a medical term meaning sacrum, the Lithuanian noun kryžkaulis is inappropriate in the situational context of the excerpt. Alliteration should not be forced to the extent of causing a degeneration of meaning or content. A more appropriate Lithuanian word could be the noun pasturgalis. For example, in Vincas Krėvė-Mickevičius’s collection of proverbs Patarlės ir priežodžiai (Prov- erbs and Adages, 1931) one finds: Davė vagiui ant atminimo į pasturgalio skynimą and Gausi į pasturgalį už tokius darbus! (Krėvė-Mickevičius, cited in The On-line Dictionary of the Lithuanian Language). The Lithuanian translator obviously ignores the requirement for cognitive accuracy. As demonstrated above, Nabokov’s alliterations are playful and multilevelled. The writer also develops what Rosen- grant calls “suballiterative echoing”: the voiced consonants are combined with their voiceless counterparts, and vice versa (Rosengrant 1995). This type of alliterative practice contributes to Nabokov’s acoustic equilibristics and creates effects which evoke adequate reactions in the readers, regardless of whether they are consciously aware of them or not. For instance, in the English original the reader finds the follow- ing phrase: “devote a dangerous amount of time” (Nabokov 1991, p. 138), where the voiced consonant d in “devote” and “dangerous” is combined with the final voiceless t in “devote” and “amount” and the initial t in “time”. In the Russian version of the novel, the same phrase is rendered as “пришлось посвятить некоторое время” (Набоков 2010, p. 179). Nabokov changed the place of alliteration in the Russian ver- sion. While he successfully rendered the alliterative effect of “devote a dangerous” in “пришлось посвятить”, he failed to find a proper wording to convey all of the acoustic features of the original—which would have required the voiceless consonant п (p) in the Russian text to be reinforced by the voiced consonant б (b). He also lost the original epithet “dangerous”, which had an ironic shade. But what Nabokov fails to render in one place he compensates for (often abundantly) in another. Consider the sentence “She sprawled there, biting at a hangnail and mocking me with her heartless vaporous eyes” (Nabokov 1991, p. 203), where the voiceless consonant s in “heartless” and “vaporous” is combined with the voiced sound /z/ in “eyes”. This is translated as “Она сидела развалясь, выкусывая заусеницу, следя за мной глумливым взглядом бессердечных, дымчатых глаз” (Набоков 2010, p. 261). In the Russian sentence, the suballiterative patterning of the voiced з (z) and the voiceless с (s) is much more complex. The voiceless con- sonant с (s) in “сидела”, “развалясь”, “выкусывая”, “заусеницу”, “следя”, “бессердечных” and the consonant з (z), which becomes voiceless in “глаз”, are I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 123 interwoven with the voiced consonant з (z) in “развалясь”, “заусеницу”, “за”, “взглядом”. The rich alliteration of the consonant д (d) has an emphatically playful effect on the reader in “сидела”, “следя”, “взглядом”, “бессердечных” and “дымчатых”, one which is missing from the original text. Another example may be found in the excerpt, “the old fence at the back of the gar- den” (Nabokov 1991, p. 73), which, in the scale of Nabokov’s alliterative expression, is a rather humble example. Yet it is trans- lated by the writer into Russian as “ветхий забор позади сада” (Набоков 2010, p. 96), with alliteration of the voiced initial з (z) in “забор” and the medial з (z) in “позади” being emphasized by the voiceless initial suballiterative c (s) in “сада”. Here also, the medial д (d) in “позади” alliterates with the medial д (d) in “сада”. Moreover, the assonance of the vowel a immediately following the suballiterated consonants in “забор позади сада” is used effectively. However, in the Lithuanian translation— “palaikė tvora sodo gale” (Nabokovas 1990, p. 37)—no acoustic effect has been created. It should be noted that in Nabokov’s books, playing upon the same letter is, as Rosengrant puts it, “neither a mere mechanical adjunct nor a superficial em- bellishment… but an integral part of the rhetorical and expressive meaning of the text” (Rosengrant 1995), one which should be compensated for by the translators of his novels. To prove that Nabokov was an al- literation virtuoso, the cases where he successfully alliterates the same words in the translation as in the original will be provided. For instance, the phrase “they were as different as mist and mast” (Nabo- kov 1991, p. 18) is rendered as “они были столь же различны между собой, как мечта и мачта” (Набоков 2010, p. 27); “in dull dingy Paris” (Nabokov 1991, p. 27) as “в скучном, сером Париже” (Набоков 2010, p. 38). The phrase “between beast and beauty” (Nabokov 1991, p. 59) is translated as “между чудом и чудовищем” (Набоков 2010, p. 79). The latter deserves special attention. In the original, the emphasis is created by the alliteration of the initial b presented together with the assonance of the vowel e in “between” and “beast”, and the first syllables of the given words show a modified visual root repetition in “between”, “beast” and “beauty”. In the translation, this is reflected by the very suc- cessful choice of words that help to work out both visual and audible root repetition in “чудом” and “чудовищем”. The missing modified root repetition in the third word is replaced by the alliterated voiced consonant д (d) in “между”, thus emphatically uniting the three words together. The original text’s alliteration of the medial voiceless conso- nant t in “between”, the final t in “beast” and the nearly final t in “beauty” is substituted in translation by its voiced counterpart д (d) in nearly final position in “между”, and in me- dial position in “чудом” and “чудовищем”. Moreover, in the translated phrase, the first two letters of the first word “ме-” match the last two letters of the final word in reverse order, thereby forming a framing rhetorical device: “между… чудовищем”. It should be stressed that the writer pre- ferred to preserve the rhythmic pattern at the expense of the semantic pattern: the shorter word is followed by the longer one in both versions—“beast and beau-ty”, “чу-дом и A. Cechanovičius, J. Krūminienė. VLADIMIR NABOKOV’S SELF-TRANSLATED LOLITA 124 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA чу-до-ви-щем”—though the meanings are reversed: “beast” ~ “чудовище”, “beauty” ~ “чудо”. There are cases where Nabokov alters the content to preserve an alliterative pat- tern. For instance, the phrase “some ‘se- rum’ (sparrow’s sperm or dugong’s dung)” (Nabokov 1991, p. 242) is rendered as “какую-то ‘сыворотку’ (из спермы спрута или слюны слона)” (Набоков 2010, p. 311). Here, the bird of the original phrase is replaced by a sea creature—an octopus, while the sea mammal of the original phrase becomes a terrestrial mammal to retain the alliteration of the first two consonants worked out in the original novel, i.e., the consonant pair sp together with the allitera- tion of the medial sonorous r. The initial sp and the medial sonorous r in “sparrow’s” alliterate with sp and r in “sperm”. In a very similar manner, the initial sound combina- tion du, the medial consonant g and the final consonant combination ng in “dugong” al- literate with the initial sound combination du and the final consonant combination ng in “dung”. In the Russian translation, the initial сп (sp) (an exact translation of the original consonant pair) and the medial p (r) (following the original) in “спермы” (an international word) alliterates with the initial consonant combination сп (sr) and the medial p (r) in “спрута”. No doubt, the alliteration is rendered into Russian very successfully. In the second part of the quotation, the initial consonant combina- tion сл (sl) and the medial sonorous н (n) in “слюны” alliterates with the initial conso- nant pair сл (sl) and the medial sonorous н (n) in “слона”. It should be stressed that the four original initial s consonants in “some”, “serum”, “sparrow’s” and “sperm” are suc- cessfully extended in the translation to five cases of the initial voiceless consonant c (s) (in “сыворотку”, “спермы”, “спрута”, “слюны” and “слона”). Here, actually, the content has not been sacrificed for the sake of the form, since it is the play on words and the erotic implication that matter in the given context. Sometimes Nabokov exercises his privilege as an author-translator by intro- ducing additional content to extend the play on sounds and letters. For instance, the original sentence “…the motel, where millions of so-called ‘millers,’ a kind of insect, were swarming around the neon contours of ‘No Vacancy’” (Nabokov 1991, p. 241), is rendered as “вокруг которой маячили миллионы мотельных мотылей, называемых ‘мельниками’ – не то от ‘мелькать,’ не то из-за мучнистого оттенка на свету” (Набоков 2010, p. 311). Here, the writer enriches the alliterative pattern so that the first syllables coincide in two pairs of words, whereas in the original they do so only in one pair: consider the original “millions” and “millers” and the translated “мотельных” and “мотылей”, and “мельниками” and “мелькать”. Nabokov was a genius in creating con- trastive alliterative pairs, as in the phrase “famous for its violet-ribonned china bunnies and chocolate boxes” (Nabokov 1991, p. 188); and he proved himself a talented translator to render them as fol- lows: “известное своими фарфоровыми, в фиолетовых бантах, кроликами и коробками шоколада” (Набоков 2010, p. 241). Such cases perfectly confirm that his revisitation of the original alliterative modes was performed with creative inspi- ration, making full use of the possibilities I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 125 offered by another language. For compari- son, let us take the Lithuanian translation: “žinoma porceliano triušiais su violetiniais kaspinėliais ir dėžutėmis šokolado” (Nabo- kovas 1990, p. 204). Unfortunately, here the contrastive alliterative pair has been completely lost. Yet, it could have been retained, e.g., by creatively adding the epi- thet fantastiškais ~ “fantastic” to the words “porceliano triušiais”. Of course, there are also places where Nabokov takes the opposite approach and sacrifices form for content. For instance, in the episode where the priorities of the Beardsley school in preparing the girls for social life are enumerated: “we stress the four D’s: Dramatics, Dance, Debat- ing and Dating” (Nabokov 1991, p. 177). This is translated into Russian as “мы придаем такое значение танцам, дебатам, любительским спектаклям и встречам с мальчиками” (Набоков 2010, p. 226) and no alliteration is introduced. In a similar example, the form seems to be more impor- tant than the content: in the episode where Humbert Humbert is reading “volume C of the Girl’s Encyclopedia”, he utters the words “Campus, Canada, Candid Cam- era, Candy… Canoeing or Canvasback” (Nabokov 1991, p. 92). Nabokov translates these in the following way: “Канада, Кино, Конфета, Костер” (Набоков 2010, p. 121) and “на Кролике или на Купании” (Набоков 2010, p. 122). The Lithuanian translator renders it into Lithuanian cre- atively, trying to preserve the alliterative mode of the Russian translation: “Kanada, Kanapa, Kelias, Kinas… po Kraulio ir Kro- so” (Nabokovas 1990, p. 100–101). Given a chance, the author-translator extends the list of the words. Consider the original: Humbert Humbert imagines the teenagers’ activities in “Camp Q” as follows: “Canoe- ing, Coranting, Combing Curls” (Nabokov 1991, p. 134). The translation into Russian offers the following enumeration: “Какао, Катание, Качели, Коленки и Кудри” (Набоков 2010, p. 174). The Lithuanian translator also enjoys some freedom when rendering the given list: “Kakava, Kamuo- liai, Kaspinėliai, Keliukai, Kepuraitės” (Nabokovas 1990, p. 146). These examples show that both the author as translator and the ordinary translator use free, yet not too detached semantic digressions to retain the alliterative quality of the sentence. But sometimes Nabokov exercises his authorial privilege by adding content to expand the play on letters. For instance, the above analyzed phrase “the motel, where millions of so-called ‘millers,’ a kind of insect” (Nabokov 1991, p. 241), is expanded and rendered into Russian as “вокруг которой маячили миллионы мотельных мотылей, называемых ‘мельниками’ – не то от ‘мелькать,’ не то из-за мучнистого оттенка на свету” (Набоков 2010, p. 311). Relying on Nabokov’s Russian translation, the Lithuanian translator fol- lows this version of the text, in which the author discusses the etymology of the word “мельниками” (“millers”). Yet she omits the phrase “не то от ‘мелькать’”, thus only partially explaining the etymological meaning of the word; the translated excerpt appears as follows: “apie kurį zujo milijonai motelio drugių, vadinamų „malūnininkais”, gal kad prieš šviesą atrodė tarytum apsinešę miltais” (Nabokovas 1990, p. 264). While the author-translator managed to find a common root in the words “мельниками” and “мелькать” (“to glimmer”), the Lithu- A. Cechanovičius, J. Krūminienė. VLADIMIR NABOKOV’S SELF-TRANSLATED LOLITA 126 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA anian translator could only emphasize the insect’s association with human millers, who are always covered in flour. As for the alliteration, although the sentence in the Russian text demonstrates a richer allitera- tion, the Lithuanian translator’s attempt may be regarded as rather successful: there are four alliterated sonorous m in the original, eight cases in the Russian version, and six cases in the Lithuanian translation. Another important instance is the repetition of the initial syllable “mill-” in the original (“mil- lions” and “millers”), the creative rendering of the initial syllable “мель-“ in the Russian (“мельниками” and “мелькать”), and a very successful—and closer to the origi- nal—Lithuanian translation of the initial syllable “mil-” in “milijonai” and “miltais” (“flour”). Obviously, the alliterative impos- sibility between the words “миллионы” and “мельниками” forced the author to find an additional word to retain the repetitive syllabic structure. The Lithuanian transla- tor, in her turn, did not mean to return to the original version of the text, but was made to focus on the words “milijonai” and “miltais” rather accidentally, thereby repeating the initial syllable that was pre- sented in the original. She could not find an adequate alliterative association between the words “milijonai” and “malūnininkais” (“millers”), thus failing in her linguistic quest despite finding a proper etymological solution by introducing a new word, as was done in Nabokov’s translation. To conclude, Vladimir Nabokov trans- lated the prose text of his novel Lolita by carefully considering the playful poetic patterns offered by another language, re- specting and challenging a new receptive audience with a different culture. On the other hand, for him, as a post-modern self- translator, translation was a game. The author-translator enjoyed his authoritative freedom to a degree that any ordinary trans- lator could never afford. The comparative analysis of the original and self-translated Lolitas revealed developments of perspec- tive and additions of meaning in the latter, achieved by bringing novelties into the poetic horizon of the source. Nabokov un- derstood that alliteration is an essential part of meaning and has an important semantic and rhetorical function. He made many alterations and additions to the source text, some of them serving as explicitations to help his prospective audience detect what he was playing on; others were introduced mainly because the Russian language al- lowed him to perform new stylistic manoeu- vres, and the authorial self could not resist the temptation. With his creatively playful intuition as both the composer of the origi- nal book and its translator, Nabokov knew what was more aesthetically important or significant for the sake of the game to be played with the reader: whether this was the dominance of form over content, or vice versa. As self-translator, he managed to re- tain and sometimes expand a great number of alliterative and suballiterative cases and develop a similarly effective complex sound orchestration. When he failed to render the alliterative pattern in one paragraph or sen- tence, he compensated the loss by creating rich alliteration in places where the original text does not expose any. It should be noted that a number of Russian critics of traditional orientation expressed dissatisfaction with Nabokov’s Russian language in the translated Lolita. As George Cummins claims, the author- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 127 translator confessed that “the opulent garden of his literary past (the Russian of his Russian books) [was] dug out, burnt out, and gone—never to flower again” (Cummins 1977, p. 354). In his transla- tion, Nabokov employed the Russian of a cosmopolitan exile. This exploration of the two versions of the novel has revealed that the complete Lolita may best be appreciated by bilingual readers through an interactive reading of the original English version and the author’s own Russian translation, as they offer two distinct expressions of Nabokov’s poet- ics. Unfortunately, an ordinary translation would never exert such an effect. As a complex phenomenon, literary transla- tion requires the translator to possess and continuously develop special reading and interpretive skills, in addition to having good knowledge of the critical material which would allow him or her to grasp and render the specific style of the particular author he/she undertakes to translate. References COATES, J., 1999. Changing Horses: Nabokov and Translation. In: J. BOASE-BEIER and M. HOLMAN, eds. The Practices of Literary Trans- lation. Manchester: St. Jerome. CUMMINS, G. M., 1977. Nabokov’s Russian Lolita. Slavic and Eastern European Journal, Vol. 21, No. 3, 354–365. Available from: www. jstor.com [Accessed on 24 April 2011] Dabartinės lietuvių kalbos žodynas. (The On-line Dictionary of the Lithuanian Language). Available from: http://www.lkz.lt/startas.htm [Ac- cessed on 22 April 2011] FITCH, B. T., 1988. Beckett and Babel. An Investigation into the Status of the Bilingual Work. Toronto: University of Toronto Press. GRUTMAN, R. 1998. Auto-Translation. In: M. BAKER and G. SALDANHA, eds. Routledge Encyclopedia of Translation Studies. London/New York: Taylor and Francis. GRAYSON, J., 2000. Vladimir Nabokov. In: O. CLASSE, ed. Encyclopedia of Literary Translation into English. London/Chicago: Fitzroy Dearborn Publishers. HOKESON, J.; MUNSON, M., 2007. The Bilingual Text. History and Theory of Literary Self- -translation. Manchester: St. Jerome Publishing. MONTINI, C., 2010. Self-translation. In: Y. GAMBIER and L. VAN DOORSLAER, eds. Handbook of Translation Studies, Vol. 1, 306–309. Amsterdam: John Benjamins Publishing Company. NABOKOVAS, V., 1990. Lolita. Vilnius: Vaga. NABOKOV, V., 1970. Speak, Memory: An Au- tobiography Revisited. New York: Pyramid Books. NABOKOV, V., 1991. The Annotated Lolita. London: Penguin Books. ROSENGRANT, J., 1995. Bilingual Style in Nabokov’s Autobiography. Style, Vol. 1, No 29, 108–27. Available from: www.findarticles.com [Accessed on 15 March 2011] ROSENGRANT, J., 1994. Nabokov, Onegin, and the Theory of Translation. The Slavic and Eastern European Journal, Vol. 38, No. 1, 13–27. Available from: www.jstor.com [Accessed on 10 April 2011] SANTOYO, J. C., 2006. Blank Spaces in the History of Translation. In: L. G. BASTIN and F. P. BANDIA, eds. Charting the Future of Trans- lation History. Ottawa: University of Ottawa Press. VILLALTA, G. M., 2003. Bertolino. In: Translating Oneself: Self-Translation in Dialect Poets. Conference Proceedings, Cremona, 5–9. Trans. B. COCCIOLILLO. Available from: http:// userhome.brooklyn.cuny.edu [Accessed on 10 February 2011] НАБОКОВ, В., 2010. Лолита. Санкт- Петербург: Азбука-классика. A. Cechanovičius, J. Krūminienė. VLADIMIR NABOKOV’S SELF-TRANSLATED LOLITA 128 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Artūras Cechanovičius Vilniaus universitetas, Lietuva Moksliniai interesai: archetipinė literatūros kritika, literatūrinis vertimas, autorinis vertimas Jadvyga Krūminienė Vilniaus universitetas, Lietuva Moksliniai interesai: hermeneutika, semiotika, fenomenologija, mitopoetika, teopoetika, litera- tūrinis vertimas, autorinis vertimas VLADIMIRO NABOKOVO ROMANO LO- LITA AUTORINIS VERTIMAS: ORIGINALO ALITERACINIŲ MODELIŲ REVIZITACIJA Santrauka Straipsnyje pateikiama atvejo studija, pagrįsta dviejų Vladimiro Nabokovo romano Lolita versi- jų – anglų ir rusų kalba – lyginimu. Tyrimui buvo pasirinktos teorinės literatūrinio vertimo įžvalgos. Straipsnio autoriai autorinį vertimą traktuoja kaip atskirą literatūrinio vertimo šaką atsiribodami nuo negrožinės literatūros tekstų autorinio vertimo tyrinėjimų. Įdomu pastebėti, kad dažniausiai savo kūrinius į kitą kalbą verčia bilingviai autoriai. Todėl nekeista, kad pirmiausia į autorinio vertimo reiškinį dėmesį atkreipė lingvistai, o ne vertimo teoretikai. Teoriniai autorinio vertimo srities tyrimai dar tik pradinėje stadijoje, jiems vos keli dešimtmečiai. Pirmasis „autorinio vertimo“ terminą (angl. self- translation) pasiūlė Antonas Popovičius Literatū- rinio vertimo analizės žodyne (1976). Straipsnio autoriai analizuoja kelis Nabokovo virtuozinės aliteracinės raiškos atvejus. Tyrinė- jamas originalus romano Lolita tekstas ir minėtų atvejų autorinio vertimo į rusų kalbą specifika. Dviejų kalbinių variantų kūrimas suvokiamas kaip dvipakopis skaitymo-rašymo procesas, t. y. originalo aliteracinių modelių kūrybinė revizita- cija. Nabokovas verčia knygos tekstą atlikdamas naujus žaismingus stilistinius manevrus, kuriuos inspiruoja kita kalba, tačiau kartu jis išlieka reiklus kognityviojo tikslumo aspektu. Jei rašytojui nepa- vyksta perteikti tokių aliteracinių struktūrų, kokios yra originale, jis kompensuoja šį trūkumą, neretai pateikia dar sudėtingesnius garsinius modelius kitoje vietoje. Kaip patvirtino tyrimas, kokybiniu požiūriu autorinis vertimas pranoksta bet kokį kito ver- Artūras Cechanovičius Uniwersytet Wileński, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: krytyka archetypo- wa, przekład literacki, przekład autorski Jadvyga Krūminienė Uniwersytet Wileński, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: hermeneutyka, semiotyka, fenomenologia, mitopoetyka, teo- poetyka, przekład literacki, przekład autorski AUTORSKI PRZEKŁAD LOLITY VLADI- MIRA NABOKOVA: SPOSOBY ODDANIA INSTRUMENTACJI GŁOSKOWEJ Streszczenie Artykuł zawiera studium przypadku – porównanie dwóch wersji językowych (angielskiej i rosyjskiej) powieści Vladimira Nabokova Lolita. Badanie oparto na teoretycznych założeniach przekładu literackiego. Autorzy artykułu traktują przekład autorski jako osobny rodzaj przekładu literackiego, odmienny od autorskich przekładów tekstów nie- literackich. Należy zauważyć, że swoje utwory na inny język najczęściej tłumaczą pisarze bilingwal- ni. Dlatego nie dziwi fakt, że zjawisko przekładu autorskiego zwróciło najpierw uwagę języko- znawców, nie zaś teoretyków przekładu. Badania teoretyczne w dziedzinie przekładu autorskiego znajdują się dopiero w stadium początkowym – liczą zaledwie kilkadziesiąt lat. Termin „przekład autorski” (ang. self-translation) jako pierwszy zaproponował Anton Popovič w Słowniku analizy przekładu literackiego (1976). Autorzy artykułu skupili się na analizie kilku mistrzowskich realizacji instrumentacji głoskowej w oryginalnym tekście Lolity Nabokova oraz w autorskim przekładzie powieści na język rosyjski. Tworzenie dwóch wariantów językowych jest pojmowane jako dwuszczeblowy proces czytania- -pisania. Nabokov tłumaczy tekst książki, stosując nowe, zabawne zabiegi stylistyczne, stanowiące inspirację dla innego języka, jednak pozostaje wymagający wobec wierności poznawczej. Jeśli nie udaje mu się oddać struktur aliteracyjnych oryginału, kompensuje te braki w innym miejscu, często tworząc o wiele bardziej skomplikowane zestroje. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 129 tėjo bandymą perteikti subtilią originalo garsų orkestruotę, kurios pagrindą sudaro aliteracija ir subaliteracija. Tyrime taikomas lyginamasis metodas. Palyginimui buvo pasitelktas romano Lolita vertimas į lietuvių kalbą. Tekstas verstas iš Nabokovo autorinio vertimo į rusų kalbą. Pirma, čia susiduriame su vertimo vertimo atveju. Antra, jei versti yra pasirenkamas kūrinys, gyvenantis du visaverčius kalbinius gyvenimus, vertėjas privalo mokėti abi kalbas, – tai leistų gerai pažinti abu romano variantus. Be to, būtina studijuoti literatū- ros kritikos medžiagą, atskleidžiančią sudėtingus Vladimiro Nabokovo postmodernistinės kūrybos mechanizmus. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: literatūrinis verti- mas, autorinis vertimas, aliteracija, subaliteracija, garsų orkestruotė, virtuoziškas perteikimas, revizi- tacija, dvigubas rašymas. Badanie dowiodło, iż pod względem jakoś- ciowym przekład autorski znacznie przewyższa jakiekolwiek próby, podejmowane przez innych tłumaczy, oddania subtelnej instrumentacji głosko- wej, opartej na aliteracji i subaliteracji. W badaniu zastosowano metodę porównawczą. Jako materiał porównawczy posłużył przekład powieści Lolita na język litewski. Tekst był tłumaczony z autor- skiego przekładu Nabokova na język rosyjski. Po pierwsze, mamy tu do czynienia z przypadkiem tłumaczenia z tłumaczenia. Po drugie, skoro tłu- maczony utwór funkcjonuje równolegle w dwóch wersjach językowych, tłumacz powinien znać oba te języki i uwzględnić oba warianty powieści. Poza tym konieczne jest studiowanie materiałów krytycznoliterackich, ukazujących skomplikowa- ne mechanizmy postmodernistycznej twórczości Vladimira Nabokova. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: przekład literacki, przekład autorski, aliteracja, subaliteracja, in- strumentacja głoskowa, mistrzowskie realizacje, podwójne pisanie. Gauta 2012 05 22 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 A. Cechanovičius, J. Krūminienė. VLADIMIR NABOKOV’S SELF-TRANSLATED LOLITA 130 Лара Синельникова Луганский национальный университет имени Тараса Шевченко ул. Матросова, 2-а, кв. 10, 91011 Луганск, Украина Тел.: +050 628 65 77 E-mail: larnics@luguniv.edu.ua Область научных интересов автора: дискурсология, когнитология, лингвистическая поэтика, паблик рилейшнз, нанолингвистика НАНОЛИНГВИСТИКА: РЕАЛЬНОСТЬ СУЩЕСТВОВАНИЯ В статье показаны возможности проведения параллелей между современными нанотехнологиями с их нацеленностью на создание сверхмикроскопических конструкций из мельчайших частиц материи и такой гуманитарной наукой, как лингвистика, имеющей широкий спектр объектов в пространстве существования и функционирования языка. В статье нанолингвистика определяется как междисциплинарная область знания, объектом которой могут быть «наноструктурированные» лингвистические единицы и их когнитивно-дискурсивное поведение, то есть то, что составлено из величин, которые могут быть индексированы как тонкие свойства языковой материи. Наночастицы выявляются в «послойной сборке» объекта интерпретации с учетом его кореферентных связей – происходит интеграция в системы большего масштаба, микромир и макромир оказываются органически связанными. При этом не предполагается отказа от принципа комплементарности: предшествующий опыт интерпретации языковых феноменов стимулирует последующие шаги рассуждений по накоплению знаний о свойствах объекта. Автор показал возможности нанолингвистических интерпретационных действий в области современного словообразования; в рассмотрении процессов адаптации заимствований (квазисинонимия, варьирование интерпретаций в условиях новой среды); в оценке политических коммуникаций (принцип экстремально малых воздействий в ситуации double bind – «двойной ловушки»); в сенсорной лингвистике (язык перцепции – передача тонких оттенков сенсорного восприятия мира); в авангардной поэзии (поэтическая дисперсность – раздробление «вещества» слова на частицы и их соединение в новые мыслеобразы) и обозначил перспективы развития нанолингвистики. КЛЮЧЕВЫЕ СЛОВА: нанолингвистика, нанотехнологии, размерный эффект, квазиморфемы, коммуникация по типу double bind, авангардная поэзия, сенсорная лингвистика, Nano sapiens. In minimis maximus (в мелочах велик) ЛАТИНСКИЙ АФОРИЗМ Нанотехнологии и нанонаука – сов- ременный научный тренд. Нано – об- ласть знаний, которая связана с новым подходом к структуре материи. Любая субстанция устроена неоднородно, пребывает в разных пространственных масштабах. Приставка нано (от греч. “nanos” – карлик, гном) обозначает раз- мер 10 в минус 9-й степени (одна мил- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 131 лиардная доля какой-либо величины). Нанонаука и нанотехнологии определя- ются как междисциплинарная область фундаментальной и прикладной науки и техники, имеющая дело с совокупностью теоретического обоснования, практиче- ских методов исследования, анализа и синтеза, а также методов производства и применения продуктов с заданной атомарной структурой путем контроли- руемого манипулирования отдельными атомами и молекулами; нанотехноло- гии – это технологии манипулирования веществом на атомном и молекулярном уровне (http://ru.wikipedia). «Теперь везде приставка НАНО» (А. Изрина (http://www.stihi.ru). Об этом говорит и перечень уже заявленных об- ластей научного знания: наносоциология, наноистория, наноэкономика, наноме- дицина, нанофармокология, нанотек- стиль, нанопсихология, наноискусство, наноживопись и многое другое – свиде- тельства наноэры, которая, по мнению специалистов, изменит человеческую цивилизацию и которая, по прогнозам, может наступить к середине XXI века. Появились и «наноскептики», ирониче- ски предлагающие «в духе последних техновеяний» изменить словарь, заменив микроскоп на наноскоп, микрометр на нанометр, микрофон на нанофон, ми- кроавтобус на наноавтобус, микроб на наноб, микробиологию на нанобиологию, микрофильм на нанофильм, микрорайон на нанорайон (http://lj.rossia.org/users/ epimetheus/7636.mhtl). Спектр оценок нанотехнологических действий велик и противоречив: от веры в чудодейственные возможности решения едва ли не любых проблем («нанопрорыв») до полного непонима- ния и недоверия к очередной сенсации, занимающей все большее пространство в мире новых научных технологий («на- нопурга», «наноистерия»). Иронический дискурс сопровождает номинации нано- бум, наноеда, наноодежда, наномитинг, наносвадьба, наноромантики («поэты-в- минус-девятой-степени», восхищающие- ся мелочами жизни, видящие «бесконеч- ность в чашечке цветка»), нанодефиле (рассмотрение деталей одежды под ми- кроскопом – из какого материала, есть ли дополнительная защита от аллергии, как и с каким эффектом соединяются ткани и т.д.), нанобессмертие и т. п. Между тем количество номинаций с ча- стицей нано продолжает увеличиваться: наноквест – умственно насыщенные игры, строящиеся на «текстовых при- ключениях», наноэдьюктор – обучение навыкам исследования нанообъектов и наноструктур, нанолитография, нано- манипуляции и др. Мы живем в эпоху взаимодействия разных областей научного знания. Меж- дисциплинарность как координация разных областей знания и их интегра- ция – один из основных признаков сов- ременной науки, многие области которой формируются в условиях динамики научных парадигм. Нанотехнологии от- носятся к постнеклассической эпохе, в которую над плюрализмом наук надстра- ивается единство, но в единстве проис- ходит дальнейший рост плюрализма, то есть единство не устраняет плюрализм, равно как не устраняет преемственную смену эпох: от неклассики к постнеклас- сике (http://postneklassika.ru). Нанотехнологии можно рассма- тривать в общем контексте с такой набирающей силу областью знания, как Л. Синельникова. НАНОЛИНГВИСТИКА: РЕАЛЬНОСТЬ СУЩЕСТВОВАНИЯ 132 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA синергетика. Теория самоорганизации включает множество проявлений, каждое из которых имеет проекцию в нанотехно- логии: хаос может выходить из порядка, порядок Б из порядка А, порядок из хаоса. Союз гуманитарных наук с си- нергетикой, синергетическое измерение искусства, поэтическая синергия слова, дискурсивно-синергетический подход к речевой семантике – эти идеи и концеп- ции значимы для философии нанонаук (Алефиренко 2002; Пойзнер 1998). Есть все основания считать, что вне- дрение нанотехнологий в интерпретатив- ный механизм лингвистики невозможно без обращения к когнитивным наукам. Когнитология ориентирует на выявление наблюдаемых и потенциальных свойств языка, на установление причинно-след- ственных связей между языком, психи- кой и языковым сознанием, на описание способов «упаковки» мысли в слове, тексте, дискурсе. В русле постнеклас- сических познавательных установок востребовано понимание языка как со- ставляющего сознания, которое, в свою очередь, зависит от характера и скорости протекания социальных процессов. О том, что нанотехнологические идеи не чужды лингвистике, говорится крайне мало, очень осторожно и, как правило, без методологических обоснований и убеждающих примеров, что позволяет считать проблему относящейся к модер- низационной парадигме современной гуманитарной науки, многие положения которой все еще находятся в зоне крити- ческого дискурса. Можно отметить интерес к нано- технологиям в лингводидактике (На- нотехнологии в лингвистике и лингво- дидактике 2007), переосмысливающей ряд лингводидактиче ских понятий. Так, с помощью нанотехнологий разра- батывается компетентностная модель самопроизводства личности, способной к эффективной межкультурной комму- никации. «Подобно атому, состоящему из ядра и электронов, в межкультурной коммуникативной компетенции выделя- ются центр и периферия, содержащие как лингвистические, так и культурные компоненты, соотношение которых явля- ется чрезвычайно важным для констру- ирования способности к межкультурной коммуникации» (Ирисханова 2007, с. 15). К нанотехнологиям обращаются с целью выработки эффективных страте- гий обучения языкам и изучения языков. В этом случае применяется правило: управление обучением – управление наноматериалами. Компоненты ошибок рассматриваются на молекулярном и надмолекулярном уровнях через установ- ление различий между интерференцией и транспозицией. На языке квантовой меха- ники теория слабого ядерного взаимодей- ствия ведет к отклонениям и нарушениям разного рода – интерференции, а теория сильного ядерного взаимодействия – к транспозиции. Целенаправленно опери- руя лингвистическими атомами, можно выйти на создание точечной методики обучения иностранным языкам (Кирий, Рогозная 2009). Отсутствие словаря нанолингвисти- ческих терминов объясняет использо- вание понятий, созданных в технически ориентированных нанонауках (в нашем случае знаком такого рода заимствова- ний является закавыченность заимство- ванных терминологических номинаций). I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 133 Это подтверждает активность процесса взаимодействия наук – лизинга методо- логии как междисциплинарной деятель- ности, системной «аренды» релевантных познавательных концептов (Пойзнер, Соснин 2008), но не исключает в буду- щем необходимости упорядочивания терминологического аппарата, определе- ния круга лексических единиц, входящих в семантическое поле нанолингвистики. Назовем возможные направления нанолингвистических интерпретаций. Новации в словообразовании, когда происходят действия не с веществом (словом), а с его составными частями, то есть осуществляется «поштучная сборка веществ из отдельных атомов». «Новая сборка», которая по большей части осуществляется в СМИ и в рекламных текстах, способствует переходу окказио- нальной словообразовательной структу- ры в мыслеобраз на основе создания но- вой референтной основы: МОРаторий, удоVOLVствие, ТвойДоДыр, хультура (культура и халтура), апофигей (апофеоз и пофигизм), шоУБИзнес, фаберЛЖЕ и под. Такого рода словообразовательный «менеджмент» находится в русле харак- терного для нашего времени клипового мышления (одно из значений английско- го слова clip – нарезка) и способствует трансформации традиционного для лин- гвистики понятия «внутренняя форма слова»: меняется представление о так называемом генетическом уровне наци- онального языка (особенно значимы в этом случае новообразования, составлен- ные из морфем разных языков). Такого рода «сборку молекул» мы называем био- логическим парадоксом (Синельникова 2005). Трансформации этимологической реальности под особым углом зрения рассматриваются в криптолингвистике (Базылев 2010). К криптолингвистике относятся опыты любительской рекон- струкции протоязыка через собственное объяснение этимологии слов (например, этюды М. Задорного). Большинство словообразовательных новаций квали- фицируется лингвистами как лингво- креативная деятельность, языковая игра (Ильясова 2002). Нанолингвистический подход ориентирует на внимание к тому, как образуется новое «вещество» на ос- нове специфического пространственного размещения морфем и квазиморфем по принципу калейдоскопа, мозаики. К механизмам образования нового слова можно отнести выбор месторасположе- ния морфемы (предпочтение отдается «сильной» позиции в слове – имитация корневой морфемы), графическую и цве- товую актуализацию ударного сегмента слова, звуковые ассоциации – все это способствует декодированию зашиф- рованной информации, извлечению заданного смысла. Обратимся к «наносемантике». Наносемантика слова, то есть экспли- кация его мельчайших семантических нюансов, в полной мере возможна только при условии когнитивно-дискурсивного подхода к семантическим явлениям. Традиционная методика компонентного (семного) анализа лексического значения слова, по сути, нанотехнологична. Цель компонентного анализа – расчленение семантического объема слова на мини- мальные единицы. Сема как «мельчай- шее образование с заранее заданными свойствами» представляет собой, в нашей терминологии, наночастицу язы- Л. Синельникова. НАНОЛИНГВИСТИКА: РЕАЛЬНОСТЬ СУЩЕСТВОВАНИЯ 134 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA ковой семантики. Компонентный ана- лиз важен для выявления когнитивной структуры слов, манифестирующих тот или иной сегмент ментальной сферы носителя языка. Например: уныние – фрустрация, эйфория – энтузиазм, не- нависть – неприятие – враждебность, испуг – паника – ужас. Классический пример – древнегреческая градация любви: эрос (чувственная любовь, влю- бленность, страсть, любовное влечение), сторгэ (любовь-нежность), филиа (лю- бовь-уважение), агапэ (деятельностная, одаряющая, бескорыстная любовь). Наносемантика оказывается востре- бованной в условиях изменяющегося «лингвистического ландшафта», стре- мительно пополняющегося разного рода заимствованиями. Трудно обойтись без нанотехнологиче ских действий как когнитивного инструментария для рас- смотрения процессов адаптации заимст- вований, таких, например, как тьютор и наставник (тьютор – носитель особой педагогической позиции, обеспечиваю- щей разработку и реализацию индиви- дуальных образовательных программ, наставник – руководитель, учитель, вос- питатель), монитор и дисплей (монитор – комплексное устройство, дисплей, или экран – часть монитора) и мн. др., кото- рые в речевых практиках подвергаются псевдосинонимизации. Наносемантика слова проявляется в условиях активных общественных про- цессов, сопровождающихся появлением новых слов, которые проявляют картину мира современного человека. Так, слово лузер (англ. loser – неудачник, проиграв- ший) приобрело широкую популярность для обозначения социального явления – бинарного членения общества на две категории: лузеры (люди, считающие с ебя или счит ающие ся «проиграв- шими» жизнь) и нелузеры. Блестяще проведенный Э. Лассан дискурсивный анализ лексической бинармы, возник- шей в результате трансформации заим- ствования (Лассан 2011, с. 62–80), на наш взгляд, можно считать примером дискурс-анализа с применением, по сути, нанолингвистического метода. В результате подробного, обстоятельно ил- люстрированного разбора современных дискурсивных практик автор определяет признаки лузерства и отличия русского неудачника от его английского собрата. Специфику общественных менталь- ных процессов, отражаемых в слове, пре- красно иллюстрирует эссе Г. Г. Гусейнова «Как русский язык помогает преодолеть европейский финансовый кризис?». Приведем текст с некоторыми купюра- ми: – Ну что, евро-то накрылось? Этот вопрос задал мне на днях соотечествен- ник, узнав про устрашающее падение курса евро к доллару на фоне новостей из Греции. Хотел я, было, переспросить: а ведь евро, кажется, мужского рода? Но осекся. Всем известна эта ошибка. <…> Когда эта денежная единица появилась на свет, она, вопреки логике русского языка, была объявлена мужчиной. <…> И не надо волноваться и учить друг друга, что грамматический род не име- ет никакого отношения к физическому полу. Кое-какое-то все-таки имеет. <… > Как только из Евроландии пошел дым, мои евроозабоченные знакомые, не сговариваясь, понизили курс этой валюты в языке. Еще вчера он казался им настоящим мужчиной. А сегодня I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 135 это какое-то непонятное оно. Вроде песо какого-нибудь. <…> Как удвоение согласных есть тихий сигнал почтения, так и директивное присвоение мужского рода слову, обозначающему нечто явно рода среднего, это знак повышения ста- туса самого предмета. Могут сказать, к чему, мол, заморачиваться из-за такой ерунды? Какая разница, как называли не- мецкую или финскую марку, французский или бельгийский франк, если они давным- давно растворились в этом самом евро? Неужели не на что больше потратить умственную энергию, пусть скромную, чем на эту нанолингвистику (выделено нами. – Л. С.)? А это такая мелочь, в ко- торой многим хочется иметь ясность, потому что только тут ясность и возможна. <…> И тут мы подходим к самому интересному: евро в современ- ном русском языке – это вообще не одно слово, а целых три. <…> Стало быть, евро в мужском роде – это как бы ба- бло, или некая собирательная валюта? А в среднем роде с ударением на «о» – конкретные, вот эти, деньги? Однако же и тут русский человек немножко на слово надавил и получил из него третью сущность, женскую ипостась – евру. «В последнее время, – читаем на одном валютном форуме, – ни бакс, ни евра доверия не внушают». Или вот эдак еще сказанут: «Рынки походу сдохли совсем – ни евра, ни нефть, ни наш рынок уже не реагируют на хай в СиПи». На жаргоне трейдеров, стало, быть, никакой он ни евро и никакое оно не еврó! Она у них евра. Как на жаргоне железнодорож- ников слово «путь» женского рода, так и финансисты говорят о евре. И давно. Почему профессиональный компάс тру- жеников орла и решки указал на жен- ский род, сказать не берусь. Но факт остается фактом. Вот такая Чегевара (http://lenta.ru/columns/2010/05/17/euro). Для понимания того, как текст «под- страивается» под мысль о постепенном понижении статуса евро, нужен ряд действий именно нанолингвистического характера (выделенное нами упомина- ние автором нанолингвистики, скорее, можно отнести к риторическому приему «антифразис»): «послойный» анализ гетерономинативности – синхронно-диа- хронического варьирования номинаций в обозначении денежных единиц; формы обращения к свидетельствам «внешней» лингвистики (читаем на валютном форуме, на жаргоне трейдеров) для выстраивания расширенной парадигмы номинаций с тем, чтобы найти новые аргументы для объяснения «родо-поло- вых» дифференциальных признаков в наименованиях европейской денежной валюты. Демонстрируется контекстуаль- ное варьирование семантики языковой единицы, фиксируется динамика измене- ний как результат совмещения языкового знания и знания, имеющегося в социуме. На наш взгляд, без нанолингвистиче- ского подхода невозможно разобраться в языковых «сигналах» проявления такой «загадочной» ментальной сферы, как ироническое мышление. Тонкости иронического мышления в рассуждении Г. Г. Гусейнова можно усмотреть в несоб- ственно-прямой речи, представленной в незаметном («бесшовном») объединении авторского и неавторского сознания (как бы бабло, конкретные деньги, компάс); в окказионализмах Евроландия, еврооза- боченные; в авторской трансформации Л. Синельникова. НАНОЛИНГВИСТИКА: РЕАЛЬНОСТЬ СУЩЕСТВОВАНИЯ 136 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA идиомы «орел и решка»; в завершающем «поло-родовом» пассаже Вот такая Чегевара. Иронию как дискурсивный прием можно отнести к наноблендин- гу – смешению квантов информации из разных (несовместимых) ментальных пространств для получения текстовой среды с необходимыми характеристика- ми. Ирония открывает неограниченные возможности для совмещения множества ментальных пространств, понимание и интерпретация которых требует вни- мания к тонкостям «материального» устройства текста. В психологии и в теории коммуника- ций широко используется понятие double bind (дабл бинд) – «двойное послание», «двойная связь», «двойная ловушка». Классический пример – коммуникатив- ная ситуация, в которой субъект полу- чает взаимно противоречащие указания, принадлежащие к разным уровням коммуникации, например, требование: «Приказываю тебе не исполнять моих приказов». В межличностном общении double bind создает ситуацию напрежения ввиду парадоксальной несовместимости оценочных критериев и поведенческих предписаний. Например: Я еще не знаю свою невестку, но уже не люблю ее. Мэри, поднимись в детскую, посмотри, что там делает этот шалопай и накажи его. Этот концепт в полной мере проявляет себя в политических коммуникациях. Методология double bind использует- ся для выявления противоречивости, абсурдности и парадоксальности по- литической коммуникации (Поцелуев 2008). В ситуации double bind действует принцип «экстремально малых воздей- ствий»: изменение одного параметра системы обусловливает значительные изменения всей системы; при этом «чем меньше изменение параметра, тем более кардинальные изменения происходят в системе» (Белявская 2007, с. 12). Комму- никации, строящиеся по типу double bind, демонстрируют приемы наноманипуля- ций: «на молекулярном уровне» можно выявить «совмещение несовместимого», обманчивое подобие (или уподобление), смысловую разноуровневость сообще- ния – все то, что может быть названо «идеологическим симулякром», напри- мер, употребление в одном тексте слов народовластие и демократия с кажущей- ся идентичной семантикой (Лассан 2011, с. 58–62). Названные слова соотносятся с разными идеологическими полями, поэтому предполагать одновременное сосуществование народовластия и де- мократии значит говорить об идеологи- чески невозможной ситуации. Такие признаки политического ди- скурса, как референциальные девиации, фидеистичность, эзотеричность (Пере- верзев, Кожемякин 2008) могут быть эксплицированы с помощью наноанали- тического инструментария. О лингвосенсорике. Система вос- приятия, включающая зрительную, слу- ховую, звуковую, обонятельную и осяза- тельную подсистемы, рассматривается в ряде наук: в психологии, психотерапии, психо семантике, нейрофизиологии, нейро-лингвистическом программиро- вании (НЛП). Свою нишу в этом ряду по праву занимает сенсорная лингвистика, которая «напрямую выводит на феномен нанолингвистики» (Харченко 2008). Лингвосенсорика – область лингвисти- ческого знания, занимающегося языком I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 137 перцепции, вербальной репрезентацией показаний пяти органов чувств (Хар- ченко 2012). Сенсорный уровень ког- нитивной интерпретации справедливо оценивается как базовый, исходный для всей когнитивной сферы (Барабанщи- ков 1999, с. 91). Нанотехнологическая спектрология свидетельствует, что одно и то же вещество, облученное ультра- фиолетом, дает широкий спектр цвета, и неделимое начинает делиться. Человек воспринимает 7 тысяч цветов, назвать может лишь небольшую часть. Одороло- гия (наука о запахах) и связанная с ней ароматерапия рассматривают влияние ароматов на психическое и физическое состояние человека (Панченко 2003). Представления о запахе формируются «в зависимости от числа образовавшихся связей, электронной плотности зарядов, их взаимного расположения» (Славин 1995, с. 7). Взаимное расположение, число и плотность связей обнаружива- ется на вербальном уровне в передаче тончайших оттенков цвета и запаха. Искристобелый, «топленое молоко», светлопесочный, «золото», светлоко- ричневый, светлосерый, «серый сланец», темнозеленый, красный, «вишня» – вот небольшой фрагмент названий цвета, используемых в дизайнерских бумагах из каталога компании «Комус» (http:// www.compuart.ru/article.aspx?id=16543). Психологи и лингвисты отмечают иерархиче ский характер компонен- тов сенсорной системы: слух и зре- ние – основные перцепции. Примеры вербализации перцептивного опыта свидетельствуют о взаимоналожимости чувств и ощущений: запахи мы слышим, ощущаем на вкус, на вес (тяжелый запах), оцениваем их температурные характеристики (холодный запах); звуки воспринимаем акустически, ощущаем на вес и цвет (белый звук). Синестезия как психофизиологический феномен и вербализованный продукт относится к числу нанообъектов. Тексты, показыва- ющие «высокую плотность рецепторов» через лексику чувственного восприятия (Григорьева 2004), относятся к числу «наногенных» текстов. Синестетики способны к эстетическим пережива- ниям чувственного опыта, писатели фиксируют такого рода способность в полимодальном дискурсе – описании одновременного восприятия объекта разными органами чувств. Вот одна из иллюстраций: Но надеюсь, и это точ- но: весна идет и выкинет меня опять наружу на свет божий. Чем? Да своим вторгающимся разнообразием окрест- ного мира. Вот уже сколько разного – сравнительно с лапидарной и монумен- тальной простотой и однообразностью зимы – слышу, чую, вижу: воздух много- лик и многопластов от разных тембров птичьих; малый морозец, но влажный, промозглый – проницает насквозь; чудно это: зимой в сильный мороз в той же одежде чувствуешь себя крепко забро- нированным, а тут – беззащитным, проницаемым (Гачев 1994, с. 190) Таким образом, лингвосенсорика имеет своим объектом целый «наномир», ориентированный на дифференциацию оттенков и тонкость в передаче ощуще- ний. Эвристика «вчувствования» – это способность передавать впечатления от цвета, запаха, вкуса, что особенно зна- чимо в условиях дефицита сенсорных образов в современных речевых практи- Л. Синельникова. НАНОЛИНГВИСТИКА: РЕАЛЬНОСТЬ СУЩЕСТВОВАНИЯ 138 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA ках. В этом случае нанолингвистические интерпретации могут помочь в восста- новлении сенсорной энергии – энергии комплексного видения и умения «раз- личать оттенки, дарованные природой» (Харченко 2006, с. 457). Нанолингви- стический подход может стимулировать развитие когнитивной и рефлексивной способности личности. О нанолингвистическом устрой- стве поэтических текстов. Широкие возможности для нанолингвистических интерпретаций предоставляет поэтиче- ский дискурс. Субъективное семанти- ческое пространство поэта пребывает в своеобразной ноосфере: высвобождается скрытая энергия слов через их взаимное расположение, и создается свой мир упорядоченных структур. Происходит «самосборка» картины мира через «ма- нипулирование атомами». Здесь уместно применить понятие дисперсности1 (лат. dispersus – рассеянный, рассыпанный; химическая, физическая величина, по- казывающая степень раздробленности вещества на частицы). Семантическая перекличка дистантно расположенных в стихотворении слов с заданными для смыслового сближения свойствами мож- но квалифицировать как «поэтическую дисперсно сть» (терминологиче ское сочетание наше. – Л. С.). В качестве при- мера приведем фрагмент интерпретации Ю. И. Левиным семантических перекли- чек в стихотворении О. Мандельштама 1 Дисперсные системы – образования из двух или большего числа фаз (тел) с сильно развитой по- верхностью раздела между ними. В Д. с. по крайней мере одна из фаз – дисперсная фаза – распределена в виде мелких частиц (кристалликов, нитей, плeнок или пластинок, капель, пузырьков) в другой, сплош- ной, фазе – дисперсионной среде (БСЭ). «В игольчатых чумных бокалах…». Вот полный текст стихотворения: В игольчатых чумных бокалах Мы пьем наважденье причин, Касаемся крючьями малых, Как легкая смерть, величин. И там, где сцепились бирюльки, Ребенок молчанье хранит – Большая вселенная в люльке У маленькой вечности спит. Перекличка малых – легкая – бирюль- ки – в люльке – маленькой порождает сквозную тему «малое, легкое», с кото- рой перекликается тема «хрупкое» – в игольчатых… бокалах; «игольчатость» в свою очередь несет тему «колючее», которая в соседстве со словом чумных приобретает оттенок жесткости и пере- кликается с крючьями. Осуществляется переход к теме смерти: чумных – смерть. Монтаж чумных – крючьями (поддер- жанный звуковым повтором чум – учм) порождает образ смерти-чумы: крючья, которые осмысливаются в ближайшем контексте как крючки для бирюлек, становятся одновременно и орудием для стаскивания чумных трупов. Тема смерти связана с темой «малое, легкое» и через сочетание легкая смерть; подоб- но крючьям, слово легкая становится в контексте стихотворения полисемантич- ным: кроме фразеологизма связанного значения (безболезненная) оно обре- тает и свое прямое, словарное значе- ние (отсутствие тяжести) (Левин 1975, с. 227–228). Семантические переклички обеспечивают внутреннюю целостность стихотворения. Одна из основных тенденций разви- тия поэтического языка последних лет – «переформатирование материи», то есть переосмысливание и наделение новыми свойствами всех языковых элементов – I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 139 «от звука (фонемы) до целого стихового ряда», в результате чего «возникает новое представление о дискретности языковых единиц» (Фатеева 2004, с. 79). Дискретность (лат. “discretus” – разде- ленный, прерывистый) языковых единиц в стихотворении сравнима с квантовой теорией перемещения атомных ядер относительно друг друга, с колебанием ядер. Нанолингвистический подход к дискретным языковым знакам может способствовать выработке необходимых алгоритмов интерпретации стихотвор- ных текстов. Процедура «сборки объекта» в пол- ной мере проявляет себя в авангардной поэзии, демонстрирующей свойства язы- ка в экстремальной языковой ситуации. Свойства большого массива авангардных текстов основываются на «наноразмер- ных структурах». С. Соловьев определил поэзию таким образом: «Это предельная концентрация, цыпочки моего существа, это втягивание себя в ушко невозможно- го, выход за свои пределы, это – всегда – катастрофа» (Соловьев 1993, с. 215). Приведем характерные для этого поэта примеры «наноструктур». Поэтическая лимология (лимология – наука о границах) – манипулирование «веществом» слова, нарушение его гра- ниц в результате «молекулярных тран- сформаций»: Проснись, моя милая! Чаю / горячего выпьем с тобою и в пут- / ь… Слова. Остальное – молчанье (с. 137). Трансформация физических границ слова способствует аттракции двух де- нотативных пространств – пути и пут. Интегрирование сегментов номина- ций разных денотатов в слово: «…Есть ли жизнь на Марксе?» – / Отвечаю. Зем- ля, марксиане всех стран / пятипалы, рождаются в пиве, / и в пиво уходят». – Сестра! – Я – сестра, / моя жизнь се- годня в разливе» (с. 137). Стрелки дви- жутся ощупью. Ты в раствор / окунаешь лакмус; / лакомое воровство, Себастьян Бахус (с. 123). К этим примерам можно применить оценки самого автора – «кро- мешный демонтаж» (с. 82); «Откры- тое множество: // каждая точка для остальных // является внутренней. … В каждой точке есть форточка» (с. 94). Разложение «вещества» имени, соб- ственная «математика» заполнения матричных клеток: Я – избранник, а ты – моя пани. / И все выше идем мы: я – Лиля, ты – Брик. / Или так: я – Франциск, ты – Ассизский (с. 136). Ты – дисциплинарная матрица Южной школы / типа Шолом Алейхема минус Алишер Навои (с. 97). Лексико-грамматические апплика- ции: Все смелее, все глубже, все чаще, / и все ницше, и ницше, и ницше… (с. 135). Экспликацию нанотехнологических действий находим в стихотворении «Во фразе Я ТЕБЯ ЛЮБЛЮ». Сравним пер- вую и последнюю строфы: Во фразе Я ТЕБЯ ЛЮБЛЮ есть два вагона и локомотив. В перспективе сводит их к нулю говорящий стоп-сигналами мотив. ...........................................……… сорвать с тебя мундир, и разметать предлоги рук (пробел), и прилагать союзы губ, и пить глаголы тел, ЛЮЯ ТЕЯ БЕБЛЮ ЯЛТЕЛБ! Такие свойства авангардной поэзии, как антиномичность, неопределенность, парадоксальность могут быть пока- заны и доказаны с помощью методов нанолингвистики. Поэт осуществляет прорыв к означаемым, минуя означаю- Л. Синельникова. НАНОЛИНГВИСТИКА: РЕАЛЬНОСТЬ СУЩЕСТВОВАНИЯ 140 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA щие – происходит внереференциальное конструирование. Границы применимости технологий нанолингвистики могут быть расшире- ны, что приведет к пополнению эвристи- ческого исследовательского ресурса. Ме- тоды нанолингвистики особо значимы для нескольких научных направлений, появившихся относительно недавно и находящихся на стадии накопления ис- следовательского опыта. К числу таких наук относятся: лингвосенсорика, в ее фундаментальных и прикладных ас- пектах (Харченко 2012), лингвистика креатива (Лингвистика креатива 2010), теория «лингвистического ландшаф- та» как динамической синхронии, фор- мирующей новую реальность, в которой объект рассматривается как процесс (А. Кирилина). Каждая из названных областей научного знания направлена на «освежение терминологического ин- струментария» (В. К. Харченко). Форми- рование перцепции требует тщательного анализа «минималистских» семантиче- ских признаков разных чувств и эмоций не только на семантическом уровне, но и на уровне когнитивно-эмотивном. Лингвистика креатива ориентирована на поведение человека в языке, на языковую личность как «продукт» речевой деятель- ности. Технологии развития креативной личности – это и технологии работы «человека играющего» (Homo Ludens) со словом, с текстом, поскольку языко- вая игра требует понимания тонкостей в выборе и комбинировании языковых средств. Понимание «лингвистического ландшафта» как динамической синхро- нии требует учитывать тонкие изменения в языковой картине мира и в языковом сознании представителей социума. Нанотехнологические инициативы могут быть связаны с изучением номи- нации как речемыслительного процесса; с проблемой перераспределения сем в разных типах дискурса; с характеристи- кой природы познавательной рефлексии через селективное отношение к слову, проявленное в метаязыковом коммен- тарии, свидетельствующем о языке как индивидуальном знании (Пшенкина 2012). Нанотехнологии важны для анали- за переводческого дискурса, поскольку они могут помочь в преодолении лакун и когнитивного диссонанса как следствия неодинакового протекания ментальных процессов в разных культурах (Волко- ва 2010). Формы интертекстуальных включений, как и другие виды непрямой коммуникации, также могут быть типо- логизированы на нанотехнологической основе: «смыкание смысла» (М. Бахтин), проявленное в интертекстуальности, требует согласованного множе ства когнитивных операций по причине мно- гообразия кодирования информации, отсылающей к другим текстам. Язык «под микро скопом» рассматривают специалисты в области лингвистической экспертизы, целью которой является анализ спорных материалов, представ- ленных в текстах: деталей словоупотре- бления, особенностей стилистического оформления, признаков спонтанности и подготовленности и т.д. Наши наблюдения дают основание для предварительных допущений отно- сительно перспектив миниатюризации объектов исследования. Первое допу- щение: выход из одномерного видения языковых явлений и фактов через «опыт дифференцирующего разума» (С. Аве- ринцев), через повышенное внимание к I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 141 тонкостям материи языка, детализацию семантиче ских и коммуникативно- прагматических проявлений. Второе допущение: размерный эффект» можно считать доказанным только в случае выявления тех свойств языковых единиц, которые не были выявлены с помощью других методик. Третье допущение: новые техники интерпретации могут обнаружить новые возможности пони- мания роли языка в разнообразии мен- тальных репрезентаций, способствовать усилению когнитивной составляющей в интерпретации дискурса, помочь сфор- мировать «новую понятийную сетку» (Т. Кун). Nano sapiens в относительно неда- леком будущем может стать носителем новой компетенции, требующей знания особых методов работы с разнообразной текстово-дискурсивной информацией. Объяснительные резервы нанолингви- стики находятся в дискурсе, то есть в условиях динамической представлен- ности когнитивных, перцептивных и аффективных процессов как микро- стратегий. Нанолингвистическая ком- петенция может быть сформирована на основе особой тезаурусной системы знаний междисциплинарного характера. Тезаурус в этом случае понимается как методологическая категория, система, в условиях которой происходит генериро- вание новой информации (Чернавский 2004, с. 21). «Нанобудущее принадлежит всем», – считает директор научного центра нано- технологий профессор О. Л. Фиговский. Лингвисты не исключение. Но моти- вированность их участия должна быть подтверждена системными исследова- ниями в условиях новой парадигмы, что исключает использование языка лишь в качестве плацдарма для апробации новых трендовых технологий. Нужны ответы на множество вопросов: какие текстотипы природно наноструктуриро- ваны, с помощью каких методик проис- ходит «считывание» наноинформации, как эта информация помогает соотнести язык и мышление, в чем преимущество нанотехнологического подхода, какие дополнительные знания об объекте могут быть приобретены? Ответив на эти вопросы и ряд других, исследова- тель получит возможность перейти от дискурса осведомленности к дискурсу посвященности. 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Синергетика и информация (динамическая теория инфор- мации). Москва: Наука. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 143 Lara Sinelnikova Luhansk Taras Shevchenko National University, Ukraine Research interests: discourse study, cognitive science, linguistic poetics, public relations, nanolinguistics NANOLINGUISTICS: REALITY OF EXISTENCE Summary The article is devoted to understanding nanolin- guistics as a post-non-classical branch of science which is based on interdisciplinary methodology. Arguments for the existence of nanolinguistics rely on the “scale factor” as a key point: changes in size reveal new characteristics of an object. The nanolevel is founded on special optics, which allow features that are not always seen but nevertheless exist (in an essential way) to be studied, leading to an understanding of the characteristics of the substance’s self-organization and its interaction with other objects, including the possibilities and results of integration. Nanolinguistics searches for ways to thoroughly examine an object. At the same time, previous experience of the interpretation of linguistic phenomena stimulates the subsequent steps of reasoning for accumulating knowledge about the object’s characteristics. Nanolinguistics is an interdisciplinary field of knowledge, the subject of which can be those units and cognitive-discursive manifestations that are nanostructured, i.e., those that consist of quantities which can be indexed as subtle properties of the linguistic substance. Nanoparticles are revealed by interpreting an object’s layerwise assembly, taking into account its coreferential relations, as a result of which integration into larger-scale systems takes place; microcosm and macrocosm become organi- cally connected. This article introduces the possibilities of nanolinguistic interpretative actions in the sphere of modern word formation (the new assembly of morphemes to create a new referential basis); in studying the processes of adaptation of loanwords (quasi-synonymy, the variation of interpretations in a new environment); in the evaluation of po- litical communication (the principle of extremely low influence in the situation of a double bind or double trap); in sensory linguistics (the language of perception that reflects subtle shades of the sensory understanding of the world); and in avant-garde poetry (poetic dispersion, or the fragmentation of the “matter” of a word into particles and their com- bination into new mental images). Prospects for the development of nanolinguistics are indicated. KEY WORDS: nanolinguistics, nanotechnol- ogy, size effect, quasi-morphemes, “double bind”- type communication, avant-garde poetry, sensory linguistics, Nano sapiens. Gauta 2012 05 05 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 Л. Синельникова. НАНОЛИНГВИСТИКА: РЕАЛЬНОСТЬ СУЩЕСТВОВАНИЯ 144 Skirmantė Biržietienė Vilniaus universitetas Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas Muitinės g. 8, LT-44280 Kaunas El. paštas stbirziai@hotmail.com Moksliniai interesai: klasikinė retorika, reklamos retorika, klasikinė filologija, antikinė literatūra LIETUVIŠKOS SOCIALINĖS REKLAMOS RETORIKA: ĮTIKINIMO BŪDAI Straipsnyje nagrinėjama kelių įvairios tematikos lietuviškų socialinių reklamų argumentacija. Persvazija, arba įtikinimas, yra svarbiausia reklamos diskurso dalis ir tikslas. Jos pasiekti padeda tinkamai pasirinkti argumentai. Remiantis Aristotelio teorija, išdėstyta jo veikale „Retorika“, įtikinimo sėkmė priklauso nuo trijų veiksnių, kurie yra kiekvienoje komunikacinėje situacijoje. Pirmasis priklauso nuo oratoriaus (adresanto) charakterio, kitas – nuo auditorijos (adresato) nusiteikimo ir trečiasis – nuo pačios kalbos (pranešimo) (Arist. Rhet. I 1356 a). Aristotelis juos pavadino graikiškais žodžiais ‚ethos‘, ‚logos‘, ‚pathos‘. Tyrime pabandyta pažvelgti į lietuviškas reklamines kampanijas, keliančias aktualias visuomenės problemas ir raginančias keisti savo nuostatas bei keistis. Tai dviejų iniciatyvos „Vaikystė be smurto“ akcijų, akcijos „Augink atsakingai“, Europos lygių galimybių metų ir akcijos „Smurtas prieš moteris“ reklaminių kampanijų pavyzdžiai. Patyrinėjus lietuviškos socialinės reklamos pavyzdžius, pavyko identifikuoti kiekvieną argumentavimo būdą, bet pastebėta, kad paprastai randama visų trijų elementų dermė, nors vienas būna vyraujantis, ryškiausias. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: socialinė reklama, retorika, persvazija, argumentacija, ethos, logos, pathos argumentai. Tyrimo padėtis Filologinių reklamos tyrimų Lietuvoje gausėja. Reklama tiriama įvairiais aspek- tais, išskirtini reklamos retorikos tyrimai. Reklama, vienas ryškiausių šiuolaikinio pasaulio sociokultūrinių fenomenų, glau- džiai susijusi su retorika. Dažnai į reklamą žvelgiama kaip į retorinės kultūros dalį, kaip į trumpiausią retorikos formą. Tokį požiūrį įtvirtino Reginos Koženiauskienės darbai. Jos monografijoje Retorika. Iškalbos stilistika (1999) ne kartą minimas reklamos fenomenas, nurodomos galimos reklamos retorinio tyrimo galimybės. Vėlesni pro- fesorės (Koženiauskienė 2006; 2008) ir jos mokinių, ypač Eglės Gabrėnaitės tyrimai (Gabrėnaitė 2006a; 2006b; 2007; 2010 m. apginta daktaro disertacija) įtvirtina rekla- mos retorikos tyrimo kryptį.1 Ypač svarbu pažymėti, kad čia daugeliu atveju išlaikoma klasikinės retorikos schema. Tokio tyri- mo pagrįstumą reklamos diskursui įrodė 1 Su retorikos sritimi siejasi ir lingvistiniai rekla- mos tyrimai, ypač įvairių kalbinių raiškos priemonių paieška, reklamos stiliaus tyrimai, kurie tiesiogiai susiję su retorikos elokucijos sritimi (Smetonienė 2001, 2003, 2005, 2009; Župerka 2008). I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 145 lenkų mokslininkas Piotras H. Lewińskis, monografijoje Retoryka reklamy (Lewiński 1999) reklamą taip pat tyrinėjęs pagal klasikinės retorikos modelį. Šie svarbūs tyrimai daugiausia analizuoja komercinę reklamą, socialinės reklamos tyrinėjimų beveik nėra (minėtina Erikos Rimkutės ir Neringos Pakalnytės publikacija, kurioje labiau nagrinėjamos kalbinės socialinių reklamų ypatybės (Rimkutė, Pakalnytė 2009). Vilniaus universiteto Kauno hu- manitarinio fakulteto Lietuvių fiilologijos ir reklamos studijų programoje Retorikos pagrindų kurso metu dažnai atkreipiamas dėmesys į reklamos diskursą, klasikinė retorikos teorija praktinių užduočių metu taikoma socialinės reklamos tyrimams. Pastebėtina, kad, kalbant apie socialinės reklamos retoriką, be bendrų tendencijų, būdingų visam reklamos diskursui, yra nemažai skirtumų tarp socialinės ir komer- cinės reklamos, susijusių su tam tikromis šių reklamos rūšių ypatybėmis. Socialinės reklamos specifika Plačiai žinomas Aristotelio pastebėjimas, kad žmogus yra visuomeninis gyvūnas (Arist. Polit. I 2; labiau paplitęs lotyniškas posakio vertimas – homo animal sociale est – lotyniškas žodis socialis, e – iš daiktavardžio socius – „draugas, bičiulis sąjungininkas“). Taigi nuo antikos laikų buvo pastebėta, kad žmogus gyvena tarp kitų žmonių ir paiso tam tikrų taisyklių, be to, jam būtina kitų žmonių bendrystė. Sujungus žodynuose pateikiamų žodžių „reklama“ ir „sociali- nis“ reikšmes, „socialinė reklama“ būtų „žinių apie visuomenei svarbius dalykus paskleidimas, siekiant ją įtikinti kokio nors dalyko, sprendimo svarba“. Reklamos žodynas socialinę reklamą apibrėžia kaip reklamą, skirtą visuomenei šviesti, nuosta- toms keisti, žmones skatinti imtis naudin- gos veiklos. Dažniausiai tokios reklamos užsakovai būna valstybės institucijos ir nevyriausybinės organizacijos2. Akivaizdu, kad visai neminimas pelnas, o įprastai re- klama apibrėžiama kaip svarbus komercinis veiksnys, skatinantis reklamuojamos prekės paklausą (Keršienė 2005), todėl socialinė reklama dar vadinama „nekomercine rekla- ma“ (Jokubauskas 2003, p. 142). Socialinė reklama siekia paskatinti visuomenę ir kiekvieną jos narį atskirai susimąstyti apie opias problemas, atkreipti dėmesį, formuoti nuomonę kokio dalyko atžvilgiu ir pa- bandyti keisti situaciją bei keistis patiems. Dažnai viena visuomenės grupė nori iškelti visiems svarbią iniciatyvą, ieško paramos ir tai pagarsina tokia reklama. Lietuvoje dau- gėja socialinės reklamos, įvairių kampanijų metu aktualizuojamos pačios įvairiausios visuomenės problemas, o socialinė reklama dažnai tampa svarbiausiu viešinimo būdu. Jei žiūrėtume į socialinę reklamą kaip į produktą, tai galima pastebėti, kad jos raiškos būdai yra daug įvairesni nei komer- cinės reklamos, skaudžios problemos (pvz., nesaugus eismo dalyvių elgesys, prekyba žmonėmis, rūkymo, narkomanijos pre- vencija) dažnai parodomos gąsdinančiai3. Socialinių reklamų kūrėjai dažnai orien- tuojasi į labiau apibrėžtą auditoriją, todėl geriau „prisitaiko“ prie adresato, stengiasi pasitelkti priemones (vaizdą, kalbą, garsą, minties konstrukciją), kurios būtų artimos, suprantamos, priimtinos jų adresatui (pvz., 2 http://www.komaa.lt/index.php/bendrai/reklam- os_terminu_zodynas/12#S 3 Kalbant apie socialinę reklamą net siekiama šo- kiruoti, apeliuojama į neigiamus jausmus (Jokubauskas 2003, p. 144), galima sakyti, kad pasitelkiama savotiška „šoko poetika“, tiesa, Lietuvoje šios taktikos laikomasi nuosaikiau. S. Biržietienė. LIETUVIŠKOS SOCIALINĖS REKLAMOS RETORIKA 146 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA akcijos prieš narkotikų vartojimą klubuose aktuali problema perteikiama komercinėje reklamoje gana retu humoristiniu diskur- su, kuris atlieka iškart kelias funkcijas: patraukia dėmesį dėl neįprastumo, šiek tiek sušvelnina skaudžią problemą, svarbus dalykas pasakomas be jaunimo auditoriją atgrasančių pamokymų, priverčia ne tik nusišypsoti, bet ir susimąstyti, pačiam su- vokti narkotikų vartojimo žalą). Vis dėlto jei atidžiau žvelgtume į mums aktualią ar- gumentacijos dalį, turėtume pripažinti, kad tai būtent tas aspektas, kuris yra iš esmės bendras visų rūšių reklamai. Tiesiog soci- alinės reklamos argumentai yra įvairesni, bet jų prigimtis, vietos, kuriose jų randama, t. y. topika4, pats persvazijos mechanizmas, kuris remiasi į argumentaciją, yra visiškai tas pats. Teorinės prielaidos Retorikos teorija, kurios pagrindinis objek- tas yra diskursas ne tik siaurąja prasme kaip verbalinė minčių raiška, t. y. tekstas, bet ir plačiąja prasme – kaip komuni- kacinis aktas tarp adresanto ir adresato, dėl savo tarpdalykinio pobūdžio suteikia tinkamus instrumentus tyrinėti reklamos diskursą5. Kartu retorikos teorija tinka ir reklamos diskurso kūrimui, nes padeda numatyti galimą komunikacinį aktą tarp adresanto ir adresato. Reklamą ir retoriką suartina daugelis bendrų elementų, bet 4 Jau antikos retorikos teoretikai pastebi, kad įti- kinamiausi argumentai turi tam tikras nekintančias prielaidas, padedančias kurti entimemas, kurios, pasak Aristotelio, yra patys geriausi įrodymai (Arist. Rhet. II 1393). 5 Reklamos diskursą daugelis tyrėjų vis dažniau suvokia ir tyrinėja kaip verbalinių ir neverbalinių me- dijų visumą, plg. Keturakis 2008; Juzelėnienė, Šarkaus- kienė 2007; 2011; Lidžiuvienė 2002; Maskuliūnienė 2008. svarbiausias jų – tas pats tikslas: reklama siekia persvazijos, t. y. įtikinti adresatą ir paskatinti konkrečiame reklaminiame pra- nešime užkoduotam veiksmui; pagrindinis retorikos teorijos klausimas – kaip oratoriui (adresantui) įtikinti auditoriją (adresatą), vadinasi, ir vienu, ir kitu atveju tikslas yra auditorija bei jos įtikinimas, t. y. adresatas turi priimti adresanto požiūrį, savo nuo- monę konkretaus dalyko atžvilgiu pakeisti pagal adresanto nuomonę. Tiek retorika, tiek reklama yra konkretaus atvejo teorija: įtikinimo siekiama konkretaus dalyko, turinčio konkrečias aplinkybes, atžvilgiu. Būtent šio aspekto aptarimu pradedamas seniausias6 iš mūsų dienas pasiekusių teorinių retorikos traktatų – Aristotelio Retorika. Aristotelis skelbia retorikos vi- suotinumą, prilygina retoriką dialektikai7 ir integruoja retoriką, kaip ir poetiką, į savo filosofinę sistemą. Aristotelis nesvarsto retorikos santykio su tiesa8, jis pabrėžia, kad retorika – tai sugebėjimas atrasti gali- 6 Iki Aristotelio būta bandymų sistematizuoti „kal- bėjimo meną“. Retorikos mokslas senovės Graikijoje at- sirado prieš šimtmetį iki Aristotelio, kai pasirodė pirmie- ji iškalbos mokytojai sofistai. Tada greičiausiai pasirodė ir pirmieji retorikos traktatai, bet labiau praktinio, ne teorinio pobūdžio, pateikiantys kalbų pavyzdžius, klau- simynus, savotiškus kalbų „ruošinius“ (plg. Aleknienė 2001, p. 19; Dilytė 2007, p. 184; Лосев 1978, c. 11). 7 Dialektika (gr. διαλέγομαι – „kalbuosi; dalyvauju pokalbyje“) moko dalyvauti pokalbyje, lavina sugebė- jimą samprotauti, ieškant objektyvios tiesos. Šis meto- das – tai klausimų ir atsakymų kelias, kuriuo Platono dialoguose Sokratas veda pokalbio dalyvius, buvo pri- pažįstamas kaip patikimas tikrosios tiesos radimo būdas (plg. Platonas 1996, p. 277 a) ir dažnai priešinamas su sofistika, su kuria tapatinta ir retorika. Taigi Aristotelis retorikai suteikia naują prasmę, parodydamas, kad ji remiasi tais pačiais, kaip ir dialektika samprotavimo ir įtikinimo keliais. 8 Iki Aristotelio tai buvo ypač aktualu graikams, sofistų santykis su tiesa kėlė nepasitikėjimą visa jų prak- tika ir teorija. Tai net kelis kartus iškyla Platono dia- loguose, pvz., Gorgijuje, kur Sokratas kalbasi su vienu žymiausių sofistų Gorgijumi ir jo pasekėjais Atėnuose (plg. Platonas Gorgijas). I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 147 mus įtikinimo būdus kiekvienu konkrečiu atveju (Arist. Rhet. I 1355 b), t. y. ji yra universali įtikinėjimo sistema. Filosofas pabrėžia, kad tiek dialektiką, tiek retoriką galima laikyti visų ir kiekvieno pasieki- mu, nuosavybe, nes visiems kuriuo nors atveju tenka nagrinėti ar palaikyti kokią nors nuomonę, teisintis ar kaltinti (Arist. Rhet. I 1354 a). Apibendrinant galima sakyti, kad pagindinis Retorikos klausimas yra: „Kas yra įrodymas (argumentas)?“ Atsakymas taip pat pateikiamas iškart pir- mosios knygos pradžioje: argumentacijos esmė yra entimema9 ir paskui nuolat prie jos grįžtama (Arist. Rhet. I 1354 a; 1355 a; passim). Aristotelis įsitikinęs, kad, aprašant jau žinomus atvejus, galima apibendrinti ir sukurti universalią įtikinimo, t. y. nuo- monių keitimo, sistemą. Įtikinimo sėkmę lemia trys veiksniai, trys elementai, kurie yra kiekvienoje komunikacinėje situacijoje. Pirmas iš veiksnių priklauso nuo orato- riaus (adresanto) charakterio, kitas – nuo auditorijos (adresato) nusiteikimo ir tre- čias – nuo pačios kalbos (pranešimo) (Arist. Rhet. I 1356 a). Aristotelis juos pavadino graikiškais žodžiais ethos, logos, pathos. Ethos (gr. η̉̃θος – „būdas“) – tai adresanto charakteris ir dorovinės savybės10, t. y. pats 9 Entimema (gr. εν θύμω – „tai, kas yra prote, min- tyse, omenyje“) – silogizmo rūšis, kai viena prielaida praleidžiama kaip akivaizdi. Dažniausiai ji yra pagrįsta bendra nuomone, taigi entimema įtikinimo procese yra puiki priemonė, nes pats adresatas, auditorija yra įtrau- kiama į dalyko, nuomonės pagrindimo procesą, kuriama situacija, kai pats adresatas priima kokį sprendimą, kai išvadą adresatas ir adresantas lyg ir prieina kartu. Ka- dangi silogizmas yra logikos mokslo dalis, loginės argu- mentacijos pamatas, tai entimema yra taškas, kuriame susiliečia retorika ir logika, t. y. apeliuojama į adresato protą. 10 Oratoriaus asmuo, jo tvirta moralė, iš čia išplau- kiantis jo veiklos teisingumas, retorikos etinis lygmuo buvo ypač pabrėžiami klasikinėje teorijoje paties Aris- totelio ir ypač romėnų, kuriuos jaudino ir gero orato- oratorius. Aristotelis sako, kad žmonės linkę be įrodymų pasitikėti žmogumi, kuris yra išmintingas, doras ir geranoriškas, taigi gero oratoriaus bruožai yra sveikas protas, aukšta moralė ir gera valia (Arist. Rhet. II 1378 a). Logos (gr. λόγος – „žodis“) – tai pranešimas, informacija, esanti pranešime. Įtikins tas pranešimas, kuris bus pateiktas nuosekliai, pagal visuotinai pripažintus aiškaus samprotavimo, t. y. logikos, dėsnius (Arist. Rhet. II 1378 a). Galiausiai pathos (gr. πάθος – „aistra“) – tai auditorijos (adre- sato) nuotaikos ir jausmai. Tik veikiami aistrų žmonės keičia savo nuomones ir daro sprendimus. Pasak Aristotelio, didžiausią įtaką žmogaus sprendimams daro pyktis, gailestis, baimė ir priešingi jiems jausmai. Norint pažinti šiuos jausmus, reikia juos išnagrinėti iš trijų pusių, pvz., pyktis: kada žmonės pyksta; ant ko jie pyksta; dėl ko jie pyksta (Arist. Rhet. II 1378 a). Įtikinantys argumentai atsiranda suderinus visus šiuos elementus11, kiekvienoje konkrečioje komunikacinėje situacijoje jie sukuriami adresanto, kuris kreipiasi į auditoriją ir turi valdyti, aprėpti visus tris šiuos elementus vienu metu. Pasak Aristotelio, persvazijos oratorius nepasiekia tada, kai arba nepro- tingai samprotauja (sveiko proto reikalavi- mas), arba samprotaudamas protingai dėl savo nedorumo kalba ne tai, ką galvoja (aukštos moralės reikalavimas), arba jis yra protingas ir doras, bet nepriimtinas audito- rijai, todėl į jo patarimus neatsižvelgiama (geros valios reikalavimas) (Arist. Rhet. II riaus ugdymas, plg. Katono, Cicerono ir galų gale Kvintiliano, kurio Institutia oratoria (Oratoriaus auklė- jimas) kaip tik stambiausias traktatas ta tema, mintis. 11 Vėlesniais laikais šie teoriniai Aristotelio apiben- drinimai buvo išreikšti grafiškai ir nubrėžtas retorinis trikampis, kur ethos (oratorius, adresantas) ir pathos (auditorija, adresatas) yra jo pagrinde, o logos (kalba, pranešimas) – viršūnėje (Ramage, Bean 1998, p. 82) S. Biržietienė. LIETUVIŠKOS SOCIALINĖS REKLAMOS RETORIKA 148 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA 1378 a). XX amžiaus viduryje, kai prasi- deda retorikos kaip komunikacijos teorijos atgimimas, atsiranda vadinamoji „naujoji retorika“, kurios teoretikai Ch. Perelmanas ir L. Olbrechts-Tyteca pagrindiniu klausimu pasirenka būtent argumentavimą ir pabrėžia neformaliųjų argumentų svarbą, psicholo- ginę jų esmę, bandydami atsekti logiką, valdančią nuomones, tikėjimus ir idėjas (Реале, Антисери 1997, c. 602). Aristotelio teorija nuolat aktualizuojama (plg. Elund, Pomona, kurie kaip tik kalba apie ethos, lo- gos, pathos kaip įtikinimo būdus), jo mintys perfrazuojamos, tai dalyką pripažįsta ir patys naujosios retorikos kūrėjai, taigi naujoji retorika visai ne nauja. Todėl visai dėsninga agrumentų radimo ir įtikinamo diskurso teorijai taikyti pirminį šaltinį – aktualią klasikinę Aristotelio teoriją. Argumentacija socialinėje reklamoje Šiame straipsnyje bus apžvelgiamos kelios įsiminusios lietuviškos socialinės reklamos taikant Aristotelio išskirtus argumentacijos elementus. Bus siekiama atsekti, kaip ethos, logos bei pathos dera konkrečiame reklamos diskurse, kurdami įtikinamus argumentus, kuriems padedant pasiekiama persvazija. Argumentacija yra dispozicijos, arba retori- nės kompozicijos, centras, svarbiausia dalis. Reklamos diskurse argumentų pateikimas taip pat yra būtinas. Pasak P. Lewińskio, reklamoje pasitelkiami ir netechniniai ar- gumentai (t. y. ne adresanto sukurti, objek- tyvūs, pvz., ekspertų nuomonės, mokslinių tyrimų rezultatai), ir su retorikos teorija tiesiogiai susiję techniniai argumentai (Lewiński 1999, p. 168). Dar daugiau – visa reklama yra argumentacija: beveik visada reklaminis diskursas susideda iš tezės ir jos įrodymo, t. y. pranešimo pradžioje patei- kiama tema (gali būti teiginys arba dažniau klausimo formos), kuri lieka nepakitusi, ir tada jos įrodymas, arba argumentai, kurie turėtų ją įrodyti ir įtikinti adresatą, kad iškeltai problemai galimas tik toks spren- dimas. Dėl savo lakoniškos formos dažnai argumentai yra pateikiami (matomi) iš karto, praktiškai visi elementai (verbaliniai ir neverbaliniai) tarnauja argumentacijai. Ypač tai pasakytina apie spausdintą reklamą. Pastebėtina, kad neretai tas pats reklamos elementas atlieka ir dėmesio patraukimo, palankumo siekimo (captatio benevolentiae), ir argumento funkciją, pvz., vaikų ir gyvūnų vaizdavimas reklamos paveiksle. Vaizdo arba garsinė reklama paprastai turi tam tikrą besirutuliojančią kompoziciją, todėl joje galima išskirti aiškesnes dalis: įžangą, pasakojimą, argumentaciją (dažnai kartu su atsakymu oponentams), pabaigą. Akcijos „Smurtas prieš moteris“ reklaminė kampanija 2011 metų gegužės mėnesį LR Seimui pri- ėmus įstatymą dėl smurto artimoje aplin- koje, vėl buvo aktualizuota ši problema, prasidėjo visuomenės diskusijos, raginimai nedelsti ir kreiptis pagalbos, nes dabar jau yra ir įstatymas, numatantis realias pagalbos priemones. Metų pabaigoje žinomos Lie- tuvos moterys sutiko dalyvauti socialinės reklamos kampanijoje, nukreiptoje prieš smurtautojus šeimoje. Buvo sukurta nuo- traukų galerija, kurioje grimo pagalba jų veiduose atsirado sumušimų ir kitų smurto žymių (žr. 1 pav.12). 12 Visą galeriją galima peržiūrėti čia: http:// www.15min.lt/gallery/zmones/Parodos-Moterys- pries-smurta-nuotraukose-karti-smurto-auku-dalia- 21457#axzz1pHCOV1Bj I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 149 Argumentų pasirinkimo atžvilgiu atro- do, kad buvo ketinta eiti ethos argumenta- vimo keliu: adresantas pasirinko jau pažįs- tamus veidus, tačiau emociškai sukrėtė pats grimas, kuris pakeitė šias moteris beveik neatpažįstamai. Taigi galima sakyti, kad pirmiausia veikė argumentai, apeliuojantys į jausmus, t. y. pathos argumentai. Logos sri- čiai galima būtų priskirti verbalinę reklamų dalį, kuria lyg ir bandoma atskleisti tokių įvykių „logiką“: kaip atsitinka, kad tarp artimų žmonių „nusistovi“ tokie santykiai. Tekstai visose nuotraukose – skirtingi, dalis jų lyg tų moterų ištarti žodžiai, žodžiai iš kasdienio jų dialogo su aplinkiniais, nu- sakantys situaciją ar bandantys paaiškinti smurto mechanizmą, kiti – apibendrintos frazės, frazeologizmai, nešantys užkoduotą reikšminį krūvį, kartais suskambantys net ironiškai („Mano vyras stiprus žmogus“; „Meilė žudo“, „Kol mirtis mus išskirs“). Visos nuotraukos pasiekia tikslą: nutei- kia neigiamai egzistuojančios problemos atžvilgiu, verčia ją pastebėti ir priešintis. Įtikinamesnės atrodo tos, kurios „cituoja“ kasdien tokioje aplinkoje gyvenančių mo- terų mintis („Šį kartą dar pasisekė“, „Jis tikrai nenorėjo“, „Nesikiškit“, „Reikėjo pa- tylėti“, „Jis myli, tiesiog padaugino“). Taigi galima sakyti, kad ši socialinė kampanija rinkosi ethos argumentus kaip pagrindinį įtikinimo būdą (tam tarnauja ir kiekvienoje nuotraukoje po tekstu užrašytas herojės var- das ir pavardė). Taip patraukiamas didesnis dėmesys, be to, lyg ir teigiama, kad opios problemos egzistuoja ne tik asocialioje aplinkoje. Pathos argumentas, nors ir labai ryškus, kaip dažnai būdinga socialinei re- klamai, ir logos yra papildomi argumentai, sustiprinantys persvaziją. Kampanija „Vaikystė be smurto“ Net kelias socialinės reklamos akcijas inici- javo Paramos vaikams centras. 2006 metais organizuotos akcijos „Gyventi mokausi iš tavęs“ spausdintoje reklamoje (2 pav.) į akis iškart krenta mergaitės veidas stambiu planu, užimantis beveik visą plakato plotą. 1 pav. Parodos „Moterys prieš smurtą“ nuo- trauka (Rūta Mikelkevičiūtė) 2 pav. Akcijos „Gyventi mokausi iš tavęs“ spausdinta reklama S. Biržietienė. LIETUVIŠKOS SOCIALINĖS REKLAMOS RETORIKA 150 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Pasirinkta nespalvota nuotrauka ryškina liūdesio, nerimo nuotaiką, kuri matyti ir herojės akyse. Galėtume teigti, kad pagrin- dinis argumentas reklamoje – socialinėms reklamoms būdingas pathos. Liūdesys dar gilesnis, nes jis sklinda iš vaiko veido. Čia mergaitė pirmiausia patraukia dėmesį, siekia auditorijos susidomėjimo problema, kuriai skirta ši reklama. Galima sakyti, kad pasirenkamas tas pats būdas, kurį dažnai naudoja komercinė reklama: vaikas tarnauja kaip captatio benevolentiae (Lewiński 1999, p. 118), veikia periferinė persvazija, kurią valdo akcidentiniai dalykai: simpatija, įvaiz- dis ir kt. Kadangi didelę auditorijos dalį sudaro žmonės, susiję su vaikų pasauliu, patys turintys vaikų, įpratę juos globoti, jų atžvilgiu nusiteikę palankiai, tai „pereina“ ir reklamos tekstui. Tik komercinės rekla- mos vaikas – linksmas, meilus, raudon- skruostis, sukeliantis teigiamas emocijas (Lewiński 1999, p. 115). Nagrinėjamame pavyzdyje mergaitės rimtumas, liūdesys tampa dominante, kuri verčia rimtai žvelgti į tėvų ir vaikų santykių problemą. Per anksti suaugusi, netekusi vaikystei būdingo nerūpestingumo, naivumo, ji duoda pata- rimus tėvams, kurie ryškiai išsiskiria rekla- mos paveiksle. Tai iškart kelia asociacijas su vienu svarbiausių religinių tekstų – deka- logu; dar daugiau, patys raginimai skamba kaip maksimos „Elkis su kitais taip, kaip norėtum, kad elgtųsi su tavim“ eksplikacija. Tai stiprus logos argumentas, apeliuojantis į adresato protą, siekiantis priversti susimąs- tyti ir įtikinti pakeisti savo elgesį su vaikais. Taigi šiame pavyzdyje matome pathos ir logos argumentų derinį. Ethos čia atstovauja pats adresantas – Paramos vaikui centras (pateikti visi jo duomenys, vykdomos akcijos pavadinimas, informuojama, kad galima aukoti paremiant šią akciją), kuris yra tik papildomas argumentas, suteikiantis patikimumo. Vizualiai kitokios, bet persvazijos at- žvilgiu panašiai veikiančios kitõs šio centro kampanijõs „Pamatyk, išgirsk, pasakyk“ reklamos (3, 4, 5 pav.). Čia taip pat pirmiausia pastebima vaiko figūra, ji atkreipia dėmesį ir iš pradžių ne- sukelia negatyvių minčių: šviesiame namų interjere matome vaikus, apsirengusius karnavalui. Tai kelia mintis apie šventę, kuri atneša vaikams daug džiaugsmo. Tuo stipresni neigiami jausmai, kaip tik tie svarbiausi, kurie, pasak Aristotelio, yra 3 pav. 4 pav. 5 pav. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 151 pagrindiniai žmonėms keičiant nuomones (gailestis, baimė; žr. aukščiau), apima, kai adresatas supranta, kad tai apgaulė, klasta, kurios imasi šių vaikų tėvai, norėdami nu- slėpti netinkamą elgesį su vaikais šeimoje. Taigi taip pathos argumentas sustiprinamas, emocijų kaita pagreitina persvaziją. Iškart neperpratusiems „žaidimo“ taisyklių, pa- teikiamas ir logos argumentas, įdarbinantis protą, bandantis išaiškinti vaizdo logiką: „Tėvai, kurie muša savo vaikus, stengiasi tai nuslėpti“. Pateikiami ir būdai, ką reikėtų daryti, norint konkrečiai padėti skriaudžia- miems vaikams. „Augink atsakingai“ akcijos Iniciatyvos „Augink atsakingai“ grupė paskatino net keletą socialinių kampani- jų, skleidžiančių atsakingą vaikų ugdymo kultūrą Lietuvoje. Pirmosios kėlė vaikų auginimo be smurto problemas. Joms buvo pasitelktos panašios socialinės reklamos į jau aprašytas. Reikėtų pastebėti, kad dalies jų argumentavimas paremtas logos argumentų vyravimu. Pirmiausia čia pa- minėtina edukacinių filmukų „Gelbėkit! Vaikai!“ serija13. Kadangi tai ne statiška spausdinta reklama, o piešti animaciniai filmukai, kurių tikslas yra patarti tėvams, kaip elgtis kasdienėse situacijose auginant vaikus, jų argumentacijos dalis aiškiau išsiskiria, ją paprasčiau pastebėti ir api- būdinti. Kiekvienas filmukas turi temą, formuluojamą dažniausiai klausimo forma arba iškeliamą kaip problema („Kaip su- valdyti pyktį?“; „Isterija parduotuvėje. Ką daryti?“; „Jis vis reikalauja naujų žaislų“). Tada nuosekliai trimis, keturiais punktais 13 http://lt-lt.facebook.com/augink#!/augink?sk= videos http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jauvc5UQ7X 0&feature=related pateikiamas veiksmų planas, kaip elgtis tėvams, atsidūrusiems tokioje situacijoje. Taigi vyrauja į protą apeliuojantys, logos, argumentai, jie sudėstyti aiškia tvarka: tereikia pasielgti taip, kaip patariama, kad problema išsispręstų. Rodos, keliamos problemos nėra globalios, tai tik gyveni- miškos situacijos, bet taip tarsi teigiama, kad nuo mažų dalykų galima pradėti, ir tai bus didesnių sprendimų pradžia. Pati pasirinkta reklamos stilistika – animaci- nis filmukas – tarsi grąžina tėvus į vaikų pasaulį, jie tampa artimesni savo vaikams (juk tėvai irgi buvo vaikai, pieštas filmuko pasaulis tada jiems buvo realus), kartu šiek tiek sušvelnina pačią problemą, taigi veikia ir pathos argumentas. Ankstesnė šios iniciatyvos reklama – spaudos reklama, skirta tėvams, auklėjan- tiems savo vaikus fizinėmis bausmėmis (6 pav.). Šviesiame reklamos fone išsiskiria pieš- tas vaiko profilis. Lyg rentgeno nuotrau- 6 pav. Iniciatyvos „Augink atsakingai“ re- klama S. Biržietienė. LIETUVIŠKOS SOCIALINĖS REKLAMOS RETORIKA 152 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA koje matyti, kas yra vaiko galvoje, ten, kur įprastai vaizduojamos žmogaus smegenys. Ten aiškiai matyti diržas, jis yra centrinis ir ryškiausias vaizdas šiame paveiksle, o šoniniame kampe matyti nedidelės žmo- gaus smegenys. „Diržu proto neįkrėsi“ skelbia reklamos tekstas, lyg aiškindamas vaizdą. Reklamos persvazija sustiprinama pasinaudojant multimodalinės metaforos atmaina – vaizdažodine metafora (Juzelė- nienė, Šarkauskienė 2011, p. 2). Kokios rūšies argumentai čia vyrauja, pasakyti sudėtinga. Kadangi metafora susijusi su emocine raiška, galima teigti, kad kuriama konkreti adresato nuotaika, greičiausiai niūri (tam tarnauja ir šviesi pilka spalva, spalva lyg „be spalvos“), šiek tiek gąsdi- nanti. Verbalinė dalis – pasirinkta visiems žinomo frazeologizmo variacija, okazinis frazeologizmas, beje, tiesiogiai susijęs su fizine bausme („įkrėsti rykščių“) – yra logos srities argumentas. Pats reklamos paveikslas sukurtas taip, kad išvada prieinama de- duktyviai, o tai logikos mokslo pripažintas argumentacijos būdas. Beje, ir vaizdas tai patvirtina: norima nuosekliai parodyti, kad pasitelkus diržą proto ne atsiranda daugiau, o kaip tik jo sumažėja, lieka tik baimė ir jos įrankis. Yra ir ethos argumentas: tekstas, įgavęs autoritetingo adresanto toną, skamba kaip pamokymas, o šalia smulkesniu šriftu nurodomas pats adresantas kaip galintis suteikti daugiau naudingų patarimų. Taigi šiuo atveju persvazijos siekiama jungiant visus tris argumentavimo būdus, nė vienas jų nevyrauja. Mūsų akimis viena ryškiausių, logos argumentu pagrįstų, reklamų yra Europos lygių galimybių metams (2007) skirtas reklamų ciklas (7 pav.), kuriame vaizduo- jamos trijų žmonių širdys14. Buvo net keli labai panašūs lauko stendai, skirti kelti tolerancijos trūkumo visuomenėje klausimą. Logos argumentas čia vyrauja todėl, kad pati reklamos kom- pozicija primena mokslinį bandymą, kurio tikslas – atsakyti į klausimą, labai ryškiai pateiktą čia pat tamsiame reklamos paveiks- le: „Ar tikrai mes tokie skirtingi?“. Atsakymą reikia surasti apžiūrėjus ir įvertinus trijų žmonių (mūsų nagrinėjamame pavyzdyje tai neregio, sveiko žmogaus ir žmogaus su proto negalia) širdis. Širdys pavaizduotos tikroviškai, tikrai lyg tiriamos žmogaus anatomiją išmanančio mokslininko, tačiau kiekvienam akivaizdu, kad jos vienodos. 14 Gaila, kad pati idėja nebuvo originali, nusižiūrėta iš United Colors of Benetton nuolat vykdomos sociali- nės kampanijos prieš rasizmą vienos reklamos: http:// www.benettongroup.com/archive/press-release/united- colors-benetton-celebrates-world-anti-racism-day-mtv- and-liberation 7 pav. Europos lygių galimybių metams skirta reklama I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 153 Taigi tyrimo atsakymas būtų „Ne, visi mes vienodi“. Žemiau smulkesniu šriftu pateikiama papildoma informacija, taip pat iš logos srities, nes nurodomas neįgalių žmonių Lietuvoje skaičius ir procentas, kiek jų, galinčių dirbti, tėra įdarbinama. Nors čia akivaizdus logos argumentų vyravimas, beje, tikrai retas socialinėje reklamoje, sunku nepastebėti ir galimos neigiamos tokios raiškos įtakos įtikinimui, nes, nors centrinis persvazijos efektas ir pasiekiamas, bet įtaiga, t. y. periferinis persvazijos efektas, susijęs su emocijomis, dėl natūralistinio vaizdo gali susilpninti bendrą reklamos paveikumą. Kitaip sakant, ši reklama, nors, atrodytų, apeliuoja tik į protą, patirtį, žinias, pasitelkia logos argu- mentus, bet sukelia ir jausmus, tam tikrą auditorijos nuotaiką, kuri nėra empatiška, pozityvi visos reklaminės žinutės atžvilgiu: net jei protas ir įtikinamas, lieka tam tikras neigiamas emocinis nusiteikimas. Apibendrinimas Socialinės reklamos diskurse argumentaci- jai pasitelkiami visų rūšių argumentai. Nors vyrauja nuomonė, kad adresatas turėtų būti įtikinamas apeliuojant į protą (logos argu- mentas), bet jis nėra vyraujantis, dažniau- siai nėra pagrindinė argumentacijos prie- monė. Persvazijos atžvilgiu geriausiai savo tikslų pasiekia reklamos, kuriose derinamos visos trys argumentų rūšys: ethos, logos ir pathos. Socialinės reklamos diskurse vis dėlto vyrauja pathos argumentai: kadangi problemos, keliamos tokių reklamų, yra skaudžios, jų atžvilgiu siekiama sužadinti neigiamus jausmus, kurie, pasak Aristote- lio, stipriausiai veikia žmonių nuomones: tai gailestis, baimė, pyktis15. 15 Galvojant apie tyrimo perspektyvą, reikėtų pa- stebėti, kad vis daugėja socialinių reklamų, kuriose yra ne tik neigiamų apeliacijų, bet siekiama sužadinti ir tei- giamas emocijas, ne gąsdinti, bet parodyti kokio nors veiksmo naudą. Literatūra ALEKNIENĖ, T., 2001. 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PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 155 Skirmantė Biržietienė Vilnius University, Lithuania Research interests: classical rhetoric, rhetoric of advertising, classical philology, ancient literature RHETORIC OF LITHUANIAN SOCIAL ADVERTISING: THE WAYS TO PERSUADE Summary The article deals with the rhetoric of advertising, specifically with the means employed to persuade the audience in Lithuanian social advertising. Aris- totle in his Rhetoric points out that persuasion can be achieved in three ways: through ethos, logos, and pathos. Ethos refers to the speaker’s character as it appears to the audience: if we believe that a speaker has good sense, good morality and good- will, we are inclined to believe what he says. In social advertising, famous people, organizations and authorities who are recognizable to the audi- ence stand for this ethos argument. Logos means logical arguments. In our society, rationality is highly valued and this way of persuasion is rated as the best, but scientific reasoning in social adver- tising is not as persuasive as it might appear. Of course it is a strong additional argument to the more rhetorical types of reasoning. Pathos in Aristotle’s sense means the emotions of the audience. Usually people think that they make their decisions based on rational thought, but Aristotle points out that emotions such as pity, anger, fear and their op- posites influence our judgments as well. In social advertising, the employment of the pathos argu- ment is the most powerful and persuasive strategy. In this research, some different Lithuanian social campaigns and advertisements are analysed in order to define what methods were chosen to persuade the audience in every campaign and what types of arguments were dominant. It appears that the most persuasive advertising employs a combi- nation of all arguments: ethos, logos, and pathos. However, persuasion in social advertising is based mostly on the pathos argument, because this type of advertising appeals to the emotions. KEY WORDS: social advertising, rhetoric, ar- gumentation, persuasion, ethos, logos, and pathos arguments. Skirmantė Biržietienė Uniwersytet Wileński, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: retoryka klasyczna, retoryka reklamy, filologia klasyczna, literatura starożytna RETORYKA LITEWSKIEJ REKLAMY SPO- ŁECZNEJ: SPOSOBY PERSWAZJI Streszczenie Artykuł zawiera omówienie argumentacji kilku litewskich reklam społecznych o różnej tematyce. Perswazja jest najważniejszym elementem i celem dyskursu reklamy. O skuteczności perswazji decy- dują odpowiednio dobrane argumenty. Opierając się na teorii Arystotelesa, zawartej w jego dziele Retoryka, sukces perswazji zależy od trzech czyn- ników, obecnych w każdej sytuacji komunikacyj- nej. Pierwszy czynnik zależy od charakteru mówcy (nadawcy), drugi – od nastawienia audytorium (adresata) i trzeci – od samego języka (komunika- tu) (Arist. Rhet. I 1356 a). Arystoteles określił je greckimi wyrazami: ‘ethos’, ‘logos’, ‘pathos’. W badaniu podjęto próbę oceny litewskich kampanii reklamowych, poruszających aktualne proble- my społeczne i apelujących do zmiany swoich przekonań i zachowań. Jako przykłady kampanii reklamowych posłużyły dwie akcje inicjatywy społecznej „Dzieciństwo bez przemocy”, akcja „Wychowuj odpowiedzialnie”, akcja Europejskie- go Roku Równych Szans dla Wszystkich oraz akcja „Przemoc wobec kobiet”. W wyniku analizy przykładów litewskiej re- klamy społecznej udało się wyodrębnić wszystkie wymienione sposoby argumentacji, jednocześnie stwierdzono, że zwykle występuje zgodność wszystkich trzech elementów, choć jeden wyraźnie dominuje nad pozostałymi. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: reklama społeczna, retoryka, perswazja, argumentacja, argumenty ethos, logos, pathos. Gauta 2012 05 30 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 S. Biržietienė. LIETUVIŠKOS SOCIALINĖS REKLAMOS RETORIKA 156 Jurga Cibulskienė Lithuanian University of Educational Sciences Department of English Didactics Studentų g. 39, Vilnius LT-08106, Lietuva E-mail: jurga.cibulskiene@vpu.lt Research interests: cognitive semantics, conceptual metaphor, political discourse METAPHORS OF ECONOMIC AND FINANCIAL CRISIS: IDENTIFIED, INTERPRETED AND EXPLAINED The aim of this study is to analyze how the economic and financial crisis in Lithuania is metaphorically conceptualized by three sociopolitical groups, i.e., the leading political party (the Conservatives), the Opposition and the media, with a primary focus on the methodolo- gical issues of metaphor analysis. The analysis is based on a three-step procedure originally suggested by Charteris-Black: first, linguistic metaphors are identified in the discourse; next, they are interpreted in relation to their underlying conceptual metaphors; and finally, they are explained—or, in other words, they are analysed from a rhetorical perspective (Identified → Interpreted → Explained). This paper focuses mainly on the first stage of analysis and addresses different problems which the researcher faces while undertaking metaphor analysis. The discussion of the procedure of metaphor identification and interpretation is supported with factual data and statistics. Furthermore, the paper outlines directions for future research into crisis metaphors. KEY WORDS: economic and financial crisis, linguistic and conceptual metaphors, metho- dology of metaphor analysis. Introduction Metaphor in real-world discourse is increa- singly becoming the focus of many cogni- tive studies. Cognitive metaphor theorists comprehend metaphor as a convenient way of not only talking about real life events, but also thinking about them: constructing analogies, connecting ideas, explaining abstract ideas that are difficult to grasp, conveying messages and emotions, etc. Moreover, metaphor can become an ideolo- gical tool in deliberate attempts to influence, persuade and manipulate people. Thus, nowadays metaphor is addressed as central to various types of communication across different discourses: advertising (Forceville 1996; Cook 2001), education (Cameron 2003; Littlemore and Low 2006), health (Semino 2008), science (Lakoff and John- son 1999; Semino 2008), politics (Lassan 1995, 2011; Chilton 2004; Musolff 2004; Charteris-Black 2005, 2009; Cibulskienė 2008, 2010), literature (Semino 2002, 2008; Semino and Short 2004;), etc. In this paper, the analysis of metaphors borders on two types of discourse—economic and political—as it addresses metaphors about the economic crisis used by politicians and journalists. Political and economic processes are highly determined by political discourse, which, according to Foucault (1981), not I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 157 only reveals intentions, motives and aspi- rations but also hides them. Thus, recent years have seen an increasing interest by cognitive linguists in how political ideas are communicated (encoded and decoded) from the perspective of CMT (Conceptual Metaphor Theory). Cognitive metaphor theorists tend to claim that political and economic language, being one of the consti- tuents of political and economic discourse, is metaphorical, and that the political world is constituted by public communication, which facilitates the division of the world into simpler and more easily accessible models that are easy to manipulate. Metaphor in economic discourse Most metaphor scholars focus their atten- tion on the source domain—in this study, that would involve the ways in which the economy is metaphorically conceptuali- zed. Different studies have revealed that the economy is often comprehended as war, health, human life, a journey, etc. Although establishing source domains for the economy is of the utmost importance, it is noteworthy that metaphor scholars have also attempted to look into other aspects of economy metaphors, drawing further impli- cations related to their usage. Scorczynska and Deignan (2006) maintain that the choice of linguistic metaphors in speaking about the economy depends primarily on the genre of economic discourse—scientific or popu- lar business. Grounding their research on corpus analysis, they argue that on the one hand, popular business discourse is much more metaphoric than scientific discourse, while, on the other hand, popular business and scientific discourses draw on different source domains. war, animal/human/plant life, and mechanics are the most nume- rous source domains in popular business discourse, whereas scientific discourse is characterised by human life, mechanics and journey source domains (Scorczynska and Deignan 2006, p. 93). A different approach to metaphor in economic discourse is taken by Nicaise (2010), who looks at metaphor usage from a critical discourse perspective. He uses a logistical regression model within the critical discourse framework to establish the relationship between metaphor and its context of use in the economic domain. He maintains (p. 65) that metaphor use is influenced by such independent variables as the text producer (ideology, medium, gender), the recipient (specialist or layman), the objective (to persuade, inform, etc.), and the content (concepts). All these variables work in accordance with the geographical and temporal environment, which also includes language, community, season, etc. Employing this comprehensive model, Ni- caise analyzes the following source domains in which the economy is conceptualized me- taphorically: war, sports, weather, health, mobility, mechanics, etc. Other metaphor scholars focus on con- trastive metaphor usage in economic disco- urses. For example, Charteris-Black and Ennis (2001) compare the use of linguistic and conceptual metaphors in a corpus of English and Spanish financial reports. They state that although the two languages show considerable similarities in conceptualizing the economy as an organism, market mo- vements as physical movements, and dow- nward movements as natural disasters, there are sharp differences across the languages: the Spanish financial discourse distingu- J. Cibulskienė. METAPHORS OF ECONOMIC AND FINANCIAL CRISIS 158 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA ishes itself by its use of metaphors based on psychological mood and personality, whe- reas the English financial discourse makes use of maritime metaphors. A similar study carried out by Charteris-Black and Musolff (2003) is also contrastive, being based on English and German financial discourse. It focuses on the way the euro is reported metaphorically, and the findings suggest that the euro is mostly conceptualized as up and down movements and also via a health metaphor in the financial reporting of both languages. Despite the obvious similarities, the authors point out that English financial reporting often resorts to combat metaphors in which the euro is seen as an active agent (pp. 164–167), whereas German financial reporting envisions the euro as a passive beneficiary of the actions of institutional bodies (pp. 171–173). There have also been a number of attempts to analyze the metaphoricity of Lithuanian economic discourse. The findings support the Western cultural ten- dency to conceptualize economic issues through particular metaphors. Urbonaitė and Šeškauskienė (2007) made a contra- stive investigation of health metaphors in Lithuanian and British economic discour- ses. Their findings suggest that the most common way to conceptualize economic issues is through the conceptual metaphors a problem is an illness and improvement is medical treatment. Arcimavičienė’s (2009) research into Lithuanian economic and business discourse shows that per- sonification, being the most typical case, goes together with the metaphors health, construction, journey, etc. They demon- strate the value system underlying current economic and business discourses. Rationale and research questions As already noted, previous studies of Lithuanian economic discourse focused on possible source domains of economy metaphors. In contrast, this article treats the economic crisis as a target domain that is just one aspect of economic discourse. The rationale for choosing economic crisis as the research object is closely related to the 2008–2011 ecopolitical situation in the world: the ongoing worldwide financial and economic crisis has significantly affected our lives, and, as noted above, metaphorical analysis of real-world discourse is of prima- ry importance if we want to establish links between sociocultural reality, language, and thinking. Thus, the research questions posed in this article are the following: What is the crisis from the cognitive point of view, i.e., do we think about it metaphorically? If so, what are its linguistic realizations? The focus of the article is on the methodo- logical steps which are taken to analyse the metaphors of crisis. To make the study more informative, the concept of crisis is viewed from different perspectives, i.e., across va- rious sociopolitical groups in Lithuania. The study describes how the economic crisis is metaphorically comprehended by the in- cumbent governing party (the Conservative Party), the opposing parties and the media (journalists). Corpora Accordingly, three corpora containing 115,170 words (the Conservative Party), 116,392 words (the opposing parties), and 109,883 words (the media) were construc- ted. Scorczynska and Deignan (2006) dis- tinguish two types of economic discourse— scientific business discourse and popular I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 159 business discourse—that differ markedly in their functionality. Scientific business discourse is perceived as scientific texts written by and intended for researchers, whereas popular business discourse refers to journalistic texts which discuss current economic problems, whose addressees are both experts and non-experts. The present research focuses solely on popular business discourse, as the aim of the study is to analyse how non-experts conceptualize the economic crisis. In other words, the economic discourse merges with political discourse, and as Scorczynska and Deignan (2006) suggest, the analysis of two different economic discourses should yield quite different results. The choice of texts comprising the three corpora was determined by the topic discussed in the article, namely, the eco- nomic crisis. The governing party (or the Conservative Party) corpus was compiled from texts presented on the official website of the Conservative Party. The Lithuanian Parliament is characterized by multi-party representation; therefore, usually several parties make up the Opposition coalition. The Social Democrats, Labour Party and Order and Justice Party seemed to be the most numerous amongst those opposing the leading party. Thus, the corpus of the Opposition was constructed by compiling three small corpora—of 68,870, 34,821 and 12,701 words respectively. The texts discussing the economic crisis were se- lected from their official party and party leaders’ websites. Furthermore, a media corpus was compiled using one of the most popular Lithuanian newspapers, Lietuvos Rytas, which has the largest circulation. The Commentaries column, which displays a diversity of journalists’ viewpoints on political, social, and economic events, was chosen to make up the media corpus. At first glance, the corpus representativity is not so high that it could be seen as an attrac- tive basis for empirical studies. Although the corpora under analysis are relatively small, in Semino’s (2008) terms, while it is advantageous to use large corpora which will probably lead to plausible results, small-scale corpora are used to discover the differences and similarities across genres at particular points in history because they provide insights of rhetorical and ideologi- cal implications. This idea is supported by Musolff, who puts it in the following way: “relatively small special corpora can play an essential heuristic role. Even though they are not fully representative, they provide a good practical basis for establishing disco- urse areas that are likely to yield interesting results” (2004, p 66). The time period of the research was objectively determined by the socioeco- nomic situation in Lithuania. Due to the fact that the first signs of the economic crisis appeared in Lithuania in the autumn of 2008, the constructed corpora cover the span of October 2008–May 2011. Thus, the present research is confined to the political discourse of a certain period of time within a particular country, namely, the economic crisis in Lithuania. These circumstances determined the size of the corpora. Methodology and results In recent years, political discourse analysis has undergone cross-fertilization (Goatly 2007, p. 2) between cognitive research into metaphor and critical discourse analysis (CDA). Consequently, Charteris-Black J. Cibulskienė. METAPHORS OF ECONOMIC AND FINANCIAL CRISIS 160 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA (2005) named this approach to the analysis of political discourse Critical Metaphor Analysis (CMA), according to which con- ceptual metaphor is regarded as a cognitive mechanism of ideology. The essence of this approach lies in a three-stage procedure (p. 26)—first, metaphors are identified; next, they are interpreted; and finally, they are explained (Identified → Interpreted → Explained). It has to be admitted that, for some time, the metaphor identification procedure has been sidelined by metaphor analysts. Only recently has more serious attention been directed towards working out a valid and reliable procedure for metaphor iden- tification. Perhaps the most notable and detailed procedure was first developed by the Pragglejaz group (2007). A later version, MIPVU1, was designed by Steen and his co-workers (2010). It has to be emphasized that linguistic metaphors (metaphors in lan- guage) come into the focus of the research, and it is necessary to differentiate them from their underlying conceptual metaphors (metaphors in thought). According to this procedure, the first step is to undertake a close reading of the text-discourse; next, the lexical units in the text are identified and their meaning in context is established. Afterwards, it has to be determined if a le- xical unit “has a more basic contemporary meaning in other contexts than the one in the given context” (Semino 2008, p. 11); then, if the basic meaning is incongruent with the contextual meaning, the lexical unit is marked as metaphorical. Accordingly, in this study, linguistic metaphors were identified by applying the 1 MIP stands for Metaphor Identification Proce- dure. VU stands for Vrije Universiteit, the university in Amsterdam that developed the procedure. abovementioned MIPVU. The procedure, however, was slightly modified and adapted to the present research, as the aim was not to find all metaphorically used words; rather, it was to focus on possible metaphorical conceptualizations of the economic phe- nomenon of crisis. This was performed in three steps. The first step was to search for the concept of crisis and its collocational patterns. Deignan (2005, p. 193) stresses the importance of collocations in conventional or novel metaphor usage as a starting point for further research. This was done using the Antconc concordance program. The obtained collocations were analyzed in terms of their metaphoricity. The second step was to identify other possible metap- horical conceptualizations of the crisis. While performing a pilot manual search for possible conceptualizations in which crisis was the target domain, it was noted that certain words and expressions were used synonymously with it. The words sunkmetis (“hard times”), sunkumai (“hardship”) and nuosmukis (“decline”), which have strong evaluative components, substituted for the concept of crisis in the target discourses. The collocational patterns of these words were also searched for in the corpora using the Antconc concordance program. It must, however, be noted that strings of 10–20 wo- rds with krizė (“crisis”), sunkmetis, sunku- mai and nuosmukis as the key words do not often give accurate information about the comprehensive view of text metaphoricity. The first close reading of the texts revealed that there were other metaphors which could not be identified by any key words, despite being clearly comprehended as ways to talk about the crisis. Thus, the third step inclu- ded a more extensive search for metaphors I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 161 based on a close second reading of the texts and a manual search for metaphors which were not observed while doing the corpus analysis. Consider one of the examples: (1) Tai desperatiški žingsniai, rodantys, jog konservatoriai visiškai nesusitvarko su ekonomine situacija visas viltis dėdami į pasaulinį ekonomikos atsigavimą, kuris kaip potvynis turėtų nukelti nuo seklu- mos ir mūsų valtį. Tačiau kas atsitiks, jei kylant vandens lygiui pastebėsime, kad mūsų ekonomikos valtis yra visiškai skylėta? (2011-02-01) These are desperate steps; they demons- trate that the Conservatives’ method of dealing with the economic situation by pinning all of their hopes on a global economic recovery—which, like a ri- sing tide, should free our boat from the shallows—has completely failed. What, indeed, will happen when, as the waters rise, we discover that our economic boat is full of holes? (aut. trans.) This is an example of the journey metaphor, in which the crisis is seen as an obstacle preventing the economy from moving. The crisis is comprehended as a low tide which has stranded a boat (i.e., the country’s economy) in shallow water. If I relied only on a corpus approach, this example and many others would have been left out. The example thus demonstrates that some metaphors can be missed if we employ only a corpus approach. One might argue that only an insignificant part of all the metaphors is lost while using this approach. My results, however, indicate the opposite: in my manual search I found roughly one- third of the total of all the linguistic crisis conceptualizations (see Figure 1). This suggests that the importance of ma- nual search should not be underestimated. Combining corpus analysis with manual analysis is likely to yield more accurate and reliable results of text metaphoricity, which in turn leads to valid and reasonable conclusions. Yet, the ability to combine the two methods is substantially limited if the corpus of texts is too large to process manually. As indicated above, the three subcorpora were first searched for the key words crisis, hard times, hardship and decline using the Antconc concordance program. Perhaps the most cumbersome step was to decide which instances of crisis and its equivalent collocations were used metaphorically and which were non-metaphorical. Cameron and Maslen (2010, p. 108) point out the necessity of clear criteria in the process of Figure 1. The ratio between linguistic metaphors found while employing corpus approach and manual search. 0 200 400 600 The Conserva�ve Party The Opposi�on The media Corpus approach Manual search J. Cibulskienė. METAPHORS OF ECONOMIC AND FINANCIAL CRISIS 162 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA identifying linguistic metaphors. For this reason, the MIPVU (2010) was employed, and the collocations were analyzed in terms of their basic and contextual meanings. To decide on the basic meaning of the concept crisis, the Dictionary of the Lithuanian Lan- guage was consulted first. It presents the fol- lowing definitions: a sudden and severe turn of events; a difficult transitional state (aut. trans.). To be on the safe side, the Macmillan English Dictionary for Advanced Learners (2007), which is recommended for use in the MIPVU, was also consulted. The definitions run as follows: 1. an urgent, difficult, or dan- gerous situation; 2. a dangerous situation in someone’s personal or professional life when something could fail. Therefore, if a crisis collocation seemed to be used to refer to a situation or particular time, it was counted as non-metaphorical. For example, (2) Mes manome, kad toks pinigų švais- tymas krizės metu yra amoralus, ne- toleruotinas ir prieštarauja pačios Vyriausybės propaguojamai visuotinei taupymo politikai…. (2010-02-22) We believe that in these times of cri- sis, squandering money in this way is immoral, intolerable, and contradicts the Government’s own avowed money- saving policies…. (aut. trans.) The collocation krizės metu (“in these times of crisis”) in example (2) is seen as non-metaphorical. Figure 2 presents the ratio between metaphorical and non- -metaphorical crisis collocations across different discourses. It indicates that the majority were used metaphorically. Table 1 summarizes the results of the Identified stage. It shows the number of linguistic metaphors found via a three- -step approach across the discourses of the Conservative Party, the Opposition and the media. The results demonstrate that the text metaphoricity in terms of the number of to- kens of linguistic metaphors across the three socio-political groups is likely to be similar. Figure 2. The ratio between metaphorical and non-metaphorical crisis collocations across the discourses of the Conservative Party, the Opposition and the media. 0 200 400 600 800 metaphorical non-metaphorical the Conserva�ve Party the Opposi�on the media Table 1. Tokens of linguistic metaphors of the crisis conceptualization. Discourse types Step 1 Crisis (corpus analysis) Step 2 Crisis synonyms (corpus analysis) Step 3 Manual search Total The Conservative Party 285 114 224 623 The Opposition 383 66 196 645 The media 380 55 220 655 I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 163 Although the number of linguistic me- taphors used in conceptualizing the econo- mic and financial crisis is not significantly different, it is important to look into their underlying conceptual metaphors. This was performed in the Interpreted stage. In this stage, the relation between the linguistic metaphors and their underlying conceptual metaphors was established. The most recur- rent thematic elements, motivated by the essential metaphorical concept and being in hyperonymical relations with it, were also identified. According to Kövecses, “[On the one hand,] metaphorical linguistic expressions make conceptual metaphors manifest, and, on the other, we can use these metaphorical expressions to arrive at metaphors in thought” (2005, p. 8). To con- tinue this idea, it seems that the amount and frequency of linguistic metaphors correlate with the stability and entrenchment of a particular conceptual metaphor in the mind. Secondly, it is obvious that the identified lin- guistic metaphors (metaphors in language), underlying the conceptual metaphors, tend to construct certain scenarios, for example, journey, war, illness, etc. Speaking more technically, we have to establish concep- tual correspondences (mappings) between the target (crisis) domain, which is more abstract, and the source domains, which are more concrete and/or understandable. Therefore, while interpreting the crisis linguistic metaphors, I related them to their conceptual metaphors according to the metaphorical scenarios they create. The chart below (Figure 3) presents the number of metaphorical tokens underlying the established conceptual metaphors in the target discourses. The totals of linguistic metaphors are listed on the vertical axis, while the conceptual metaphors are listed on the horizontal axis. Hence, the analysis of the discourses of the Conservatives, the Opposition and the media shows that the economic and financial crisis is comprehended via the me- taphors of physical force, journey, illness, Figure 3. The prevailing conceptual metaphors and their linguistic expressions in the discourses of the Conservative Party, the Opposition and the media. 0 50 100 150 200 250 the Conserva�ve Party the Opposi�on the media J. Cibulskienė. METAPHORS OF ECONOMIC AND FINANCIAL CRISIS 164 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA entity, cause/result, natural phenomenon, teaching/learning, entertainment, and some others. The third stage, Explained, focuses on the ideological motivation of language use. Here, metaphor is understood as a persua- sive and rhetorical tool of argumentation. According to Charteris-Black (2005, p. 28), “Critical Metaphor Analysis therefore enables us to identify which metaphors are chosen and to explain why these metaphors are chosen by illustrating how they create political myths.” This idea roughly corre- sponds to Lassan’s (1995, 2011) proposed creation of an ideologized discourse, where she also sees metaphor as a cognitive me- chanism of ideology. In other words, an attempt is made to look into how the three analyzed participants of political discourse each legitimize themselves in their attempts to overcome the economic crisis, while, at the same time, delegitimizing the other two. Conclusions The analysis of the crisis and its equivalent collocations shows that the economic and fi- nancial crisis in Lithuania is mostly concep- tualized metaphorically: around two-thirds of all collocations were metaphorical. The corpus approach that was used to search for metaphors of the crisis turned out to be insufficient, due to its inability to find those metaphorical conceptualizations of the economic and financial crisis that can- not be searched for with key words. Thus, a combination of the corpus approach with a manual search yielded more accurate and reliable results of the metaphorical crisis conceptualization. The three analyzed socio-political groups (the Conservative Party, the Oppo- sition and the media) tend to conceptualize the economic and financial crisis through similar conceptual metaphors. Establishing mappings and counting of linguistic me- taphors revealed that the physical force, journey, illness and entity metaphors are those around which these political groups build their thinking about the crisis. The Conservatives conceptualize the crisis via the physical force metaphor most fre- quently, with the journey metaphor being the second and the illness metaphor being the third. The Opposition and the media favour the journey metaphor followed by the physical force and illness metaphors. The present paper focuses more on the methodological issues of the crisis metap- hor analysis: it elaborates on the stage of metaphor Identification and touches upon the stage of Interpretation. This is conside- red to be part of a larger study which will centre on the Interpreted stage of every conceptual metaphor in detail, and will later consider the stage Explained, i.e., the rhe- torical implications of the crisis metaphor. References ARCIMAVIČIENĖ, L., 2009. Economy metaphors: what associated conceptions underlie Lithuanian business? Respectus Philologicus, 15(20), 143–153. CAMERON, L., 2003. Metaphor in Educa- tional Discourse. London: Continuum. CAMERON, L.; MASLEN, R., 2010. Identify- ing metaphors in discourse data. In: L. CAMERON and R. MASLEN, eds. Metaphor Analysis. London, Oakville: Equinox, 97–115. CIBULSKIENĖ, J., 2008. 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London: Routledge. COOK, G., 2001. The Discourse of Advertis- ing. London: Routledge. DEIGNAN, A., 2005. Metaphor and Corpus Linguistics. Amsterdam/Philadelphia: John Ben- jamins. FORCEVILLE, C., 1996. Pictorial Metaphor in Advertising. London: Routledge. FOUCAULT, M., 1977. The Order of Dis- course. Trans. R. SAWYER. Social Science In- formation 10(2). GOATLY, A., 2007. Washing the Brain. Meta- phor and Hidden Ideology. Amsterdam/ Philadel- phia: John Benjamins. KÖVECSES, Z., 2005. Metaphor in Culture: Universality and Variation. Cambridge: CUP. LAKOFF, G.; JOHNSON, M., 1999. Philoso- phy in the Flesh: The Embodied Mind and its Chal- lenge to Western Thought. New York: Basic Books. LITTLEMORE, J.; LOW, G., 2006. Figura- tive Thinking and Foreign Language Learning. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. Macmillan English Dictionary for Advanced Learners, 2007. MUSSOLF, A., 2004. Metaphor in Political Discourse: Analogical Reasoning in Debates about Europe. Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan. NAKTINIENĖ, G.; PAULAUSKAS, J.; PETROKIENĖ, R.; VITKAUSKAS, V.; ZA- BARSKAITĖ, J. (Eds.). 2005. Lietuvių kalbos žodynas: elektroninis variantas. Vilnius: Lietuvių kalbos institutas. NICAISE, L., 2010. Metaphor and the context of use: A multidimensional approach. Metaphor and Symbol, 25, 63–73. PRAGGLEJAZ, 2007. A method for iden- tifying metaphorically used words in discourse. Metaphor and Symbol, 22(1), 1–39. SCORCZYNSKA, H.; DEIGNAN, A., 2006. Readership and purpose in the choice of economics metaphors. Metaphor and Symbol, 2(12), 87–104. SEMINO, E., 2002. A cognitive stylistic approach to mind style in narrative fiction. In: E. SEMINO and J. CULPERER, eds. Cognitive Stylistics: Language and Cognition in Text Analy- sis. Amsterdam: John Benjamins, 95–122. SEMINO, E., 2008. Metaphor in discourse. Cambridge: CUP. SEMINO, E.; SHORT, M., 2004. Corpus Sty- listics: Speech, Writing and Thought Presentation in a Corpus of English Writing. London: Routledge. STEEN, G.; DORST, A.; HERRMANN, B.; KAAL, A.; KRENNMAYR, T.; PASMA, T., 2010. A Method for Linguistic Metaphor Identification. Amsterdam & Philadelphia: John Benjamins. URBONAITĖ, J.; ŠEŠKAUSKIENĖ, I., 2007. health metaphor in political and economic dis- course: a cross-linguistic analysis. Studies about Languages, 11, 98–74. ЛACCAН, Э., 1995. Дискурс власти и ина- комыслия в СССР: когнитивно-риторический анализ. Vilnius: Vilniaus universitetas. ЛACCAН, Э., 2011. Лингвистика ставит диагноз… Vilnius: Vilniaus universitetas. J. Cibulskienė. METAPHORS OF ECONOMIC AND FINANCIAL CRISIS 166 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Jurga Cibulskienė Lietuvos edukologijos universitetas, Lietuva Moksliniai interesai: kognityvinė semantika, konceptualioji metafora, politinis diskursas EKONOMINĖS IR FINASINĖS KRIZĖS METAFORŲ ANALIZĖ: NUSTATYMAS, INTERPRETAVIMAS IR PAAIŠKINIMAS Santrauka Šiame darbe keliami du tikslai. Pirma, analizuo- jama, kaip trys skirtingos sociopolitinės grupės (valdančioji konservatorių partija, opozicija ir žiniasklaida) metaforiškai konceptualizuoja eko- nominę ir finansinę krizę Lietuvoje. Antra, pagrindinis dėmesys yra kreipiamas į metaforų analizės metodus, t.y. metaforos analizuojamos remiantis Charterio-Blacko (2005) pasiūlyta trijų etapų procedūra – pirma, lingvistinės metaforos yra nustatomos diskurse; antra, jos yra siejamos su konceptualiosiomis metaforomis; trečia, jos yra analizuojamos iš retorinės perspektyvos (nustaty- mas → interpretavimas → paaiškinimas). Didžiau- sias dėmesys yra skiriamas pirmam analizės etapui, kuriame pabrėžiamos problemos, su kuriomis itin dažnai susiduria tyrėjas, analizuodamas metaforas. Metaforos nustatymo ir interpretacijos procedūros aprašomos kartu su faktiniais pavyzdžiais ir sta- tistiniais duomenimis. Darbe taip pat pateikiamos tolimesnio KRIZĖS metaforų tyrimo gairės. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: ekonominė ir finansinė krizė, lingvistinės ir konceptualiosios metaforos, metaforų analizės metodai. Jurga Cibulskienė Litewski Uniwersytet Edukologii, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: semantyka ko- gnitywna, metafora konceptualna, dyskurs polityczny ANALIZA METAFOR KRYZYSU GOSPO- DARCZEGO I FINANSOWEGO: USTALE- NIE, INTERPRETACJA I WYJAŚNIENIE Streszczenie Niniejsza praca ma dwa cele. Pierwszym jest analiza metaforycznej konceptualizacji kryzysu gospodarczego i finansowego na Litwie w języ- ku trzech różnych grup społeczno-politycznych (rządzącej partii konserwatystów, opozycji i mass mediów). Drugim jest zastosowanie metod anali- zy metafor, a mianowicie zaproponowanej przez Jonathana Charterisa-Blacka (2005) trzyetapowej procedury: 1) ustalenia metafor językowych w dyskursie; 2) powiązania metafor językowych z metaforami konceptualnymi; 3) analiza metafor z perspektywy retorycznej (Ustalenie → Interpreta- cja → Wyjaśnienie). Największą uwagę poświęco- no pierwszemu etapowi analizy, wyszczególniono najczęstsze problemy, jakie stają przed badaczem przy analizie metafor. Opis procedur ustalenia i interpretacji metafory ilustrują przykłady i dane statystyczne. W pracy wskazano również kierunki dalszych badań nad metaforami KRYZYSU. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: kryzys gospodarczy i finansowy, metafory językowe i konceptualne, metody analizy metafor. Gauta 2012 04 30 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 167 Saulė Juzelėnienė Vilniaus universitetas Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas Muitinės g. 14, LT–44280 Kaunas, Lietuva El. paštas sauleje@yahoo.co.uk Moksliniai interesai: kognityvioji lingvistika, teksto lingvistika, reklamos semiotika, leksinė semantika, pragmatika, diskurso analizė Viktorija Seredžiūtė Vilniaus universitetas Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas Muitinės g. 14, LT–44280 Kaunas, Lietuva El. paštas raganauju@gmail.com Moksliniai interesai: neolotyniškoji literatūra, kognityvioji poetika Skirmantė Šarkauskienė Vilniaus universitetas Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas Muitinės g. 14, LT–44280 Kaunas, Lietuva El. paštas skirmante.sarkauskiene@gmail.com Moksliniai interesai: antikinė literatūra, neolotyniškoji literatūra, vaizdinė ir verbalinė retorika ANTROPOMORFINĖS LAIKO METAFOROS ŠIUOLAIKINĖJE LIETUVIŲ POEZIJOJE Laikas – viena iš svarbiausių su žmogaus egzistencija pasaulyje susijusių kategorijų. Kaip ir visi abstraktai, laikas kalboje konceptualizuojamas remiantis tam tikromis mūsų sąmonėje saugomomis struktūromis, patirtimi. Straipsnyje, taikant konceptualiosios analizės metodą, bandoma nustatyti ontologinių metaforų kategorijai priskiriamų antropomorfinių laiko metaforų, vartojamų dabartinėje lietuvių poezijoje, raišką. Buvo ieškoma sąsajų tarp laiko konceptualiza- vimo ir žmogui būdingų požymių. Taigi aptariamos tokios antropomorfinių metaforų grupės: 1. Laikas ir žmogaus kūnas, 2. Laikas kaip judantis, veikiantis asmuo, 3. Laikas kaip fiziologinių poreikių turinti būtybė, 4. Laikas kaip emocijas patirianti būtybė, 5. Laikas kaip perceptyvi būtybė, 6. Laikas kaip lytį turinti būtybė, 7. Laikas kaip sociali būtybė. Tyrimo metu paaiškėjo, kad laikas šiuolaikinėje lietuvių poezijoje dažniau yra neigiamai ko- notuotas. Neigiamos laiko konotacijos būdingiausios laiko ir profesijos, laiko ir emocijų bei laiko ir galios metaforų grupėse. Neigiamai konotuoti laiką įvardijantys žodžiai siejami su naktimi, rudeniu, vakaru, t. y. tamsiaisiais paros, metų periodais. Teigiamos konotacijos išryškėja laiko ir emocijų, laiko ir galios ir kai kuriose laiko ir kūno metaforų grupėse. Šiuolaikinėje lietuvių poezijoje konceptualizuojamam laikui būdingos tam tikros požymių opozicijos, atspindinčios laiko suvokimo ambivalentiškumą: laikas – turintis galių ir bejėgis, kūrėjas ir griovėjas, vyras ir moteris, kvailas ir protingas, besidžiaugiantis ir liūdintis, sielvartaujantis, valkata, girtuoklis ir valdovas. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: konceptualioji metafora, metaforizacija, metaforizacijos projek- cija, konceptas, ontologinė metafora. 168 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Įvadas Sisteminės konceptualiosios metaforos, kurių esmė – ištakos srities elementų ir inferencinės struktūros perkėlimas tikslo sričiai, sudaro žmogaus mąstymo pagrindą, jos leidžia abstrakčiuosius objektus koncep- tualizuoti, suvokti remiantis konkrečiaisiais konceptais (Gibbs 1994, Johnson 1987, Lakoff 1987, 1993, 2001, Lakoff, Johnson 1980, 1999, 2003, Lakoff, Nunez 2000, Sweetser 1990). Laiko metaforos yra viena iš labiau- siai tyrėjus dominančių metaforų grupių. Dauguma mokslininkų analizavo erdvines, kasdieninei vartosenai būdingas, metaforas. Jų ištakos sritis – erdvės, o tikslo sritis – laiko konceptai (Bennett 1975, Clark 1973, Lehrer 1990, Shie 2004, ch. 7, Traugott 1978). Buvo tiriamas santykis tarp laiko, kaip judančio objekto ir judančio ego, kon- ceptualiųjų metaforų (Clark 1973, Evans 2003, Gentner 2001, Lakoff 1993, Lakoff, Johnson 1980, Nunez, Motz, Teuscher, 2006, Traugott 1978). Esama publikacijų, kuriose analizuojami laiko metaforų raiškos konvencionalumo ir novatoriškumo aspek- tai (Shie 2008). Konceptualiųjų laiko metaforų pagrindą sudaro keletas žmogaus sąmonėje glūdin- čių bazinių konceptualiųjų metaforų. Šiuo atžvilgiu galima skirti tris tyrėjų požiūrio aspektus: 1. Lakoffo ir Turnerio (Lakoff, Turner 1989) studijoje, skirtoje laiko konceptua- liųjų metaforų analizei poezijoje, aptariami trys konceptualiųjų metaforų tipai, būdingi anglakalbių pasaulėvaizdžiui: 1) erdvinės metaforos: LAIKAS YRA ERDVĖ, KURIA JUDAMA; LAI- KAS YRA JUDANTIS OBJEKTAS (TIME IS LANDSCAPE WE MOVE THROUGH; TIME IS A MOVING ENTITY); 2) objektinės / daiktinės metaforos: LAIKAS YRA PINIGAI (TIME IS MONEY: She spends her time unwi- sely), LAIKAS YRA IŠTEKLIAI (TIME IS A RESOURCE: We’re almost out of time), LAIKAS YRA TALPYKLA (TIME IS A CONTAI- NER: He did it in three minutes), ir viena iš daiktinių metaforų atmai- nų – DARBOTVARKĖ YRA JUDAN- TIS OBJEKTAS (A SCHEDULE IS A MOVING OBJECT: He was behind (the) Schedule (Lakoff and Turner 1989). 3) personifikacijos: LAIKAS – VAGIS (Time is a Thief: Time has stolen my youth), LAIKAS – KEITĖJAS (TIME IS A CHANGER: Time heals all wounds), LAIKAS – PJOVĖJAS (TIME IS A REAPER), LAIKAS – ĖDIKAS, RIJIKAS (TIME IS A DEVOURER), LAIKAS – GRIO- VĖJAS (TIME IS A DESTROYER), LAIKAS – VERTINTOJAS (TIME IS EVALUATOR), LAIKAS – JUDAN- TIS OBJEKTAS (TIME MOVES), LAIKAS – PERSEKIOTOJAS (TIME IS A PURSUER: Time will catch up with him) (Lakoff, Turner 1989, p. 34–39; Radden 1997, p. 150). H. Alversonas skiria penkis laiko metaforų tipus: 1) laikas kaip konkretus (dalijamas) objektas, esatis (“time is a partible entity”: spend time, divide time, have time, apportion of time, time is ripe, fullness of time, plenty of time, bit of time, steal time, against time etc.); 2) laikas kaip jo veiklos pasekmė (“time is its effects”: I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 169 time destroys, time-worn, time heals, ra- vages of time etc.); 3) laikas kaip judantis kūnas (“time is a medium in motion”: flow of time, time moves on, time is coming (when), time stood still, etc.); 4) laikas kaip judėjimas linija (“time is a linear course”: look ahead (in time), look into the future, a short time, move ahead, the end of time, from time to time, with time, for a time, time warp, a point in time, face the future etc.) arba apskritimu (“an orbital course”: life is a circle, time will come again, the seasons come round, time is over, time and time again, over and over again etc.); 5) laikas kaip vertinimo matas (“time is its ascer- tainment / measurement”: lose time, gain time, count time, time’s up, mark time, run on time, the sands of time, etc.) (Alverson 1994, p. 65–69).1 V. A. Plungianas skiria penkias daž- niausiai rusų kalboje pasitaikančias laiko metaforų grupes: laikas – keleivis (tai, kas juda), laikas – agresorius (tai, kas griauna), laikas – substancija (tai, kas turi išma- tuojamą kiekį), laikas – talpykla (tai, kas talpina besitęsiantį (atkarpa) ar akimirksnio (taškas) įvykį), laikas – nuosavybė (tai, ką galima turėti) (Кибрик, Плунгян 1997, c. 161). Laiko konceptualizavimas anglakalbėje poezijoje išsamiai aprašytas E. Bondarenko studijoje (Бондаренко). Laiko tyrimai lietuvių kalboje nėra naujovė. Ištirti laiko konceptai XX amžiaus lietuvių poezijoje. S. Juzelėnienės straips- nyje „Laiko konceptualizavimas lietuvių kalboje“ analizuojami XX a. lietuvių poezi- joje aptinkami konceptai (Juzelėnienė 2003, p. 61–68). A. Kensminienė straipsnyje 1 Pavyzdžiai neverčiami siekiant išlaikyti originalo kalba perteikiamą laiko konceptualizaciją – aut.). „Laikas lietuvių mįslėse“ laiko suvokimą sieja su gramatinėmis laiko kategorijomis, konvencinėmis metaforomis (Kensminienė 2009, p. 109–125). B. Stundžienė straipsny- je „Laikas liaudies dainose“ laiko suvokimą lietuvių kalboje atskleidžia per kultūrinį kodą (Stundžienė 1998, p. 152–161). Galima skirti kelias laiko kategorijos atmainas: biologinis laikas – gyvo organiz- mo egzistavimo laikas (jaunystė, senatvė ir t. t.), fizinis, valandomis, minutėmis, sekundėmis matuojamas laikas. Laikas traktuojamas ir kaip filosofinė kategorija, taip pat galima būtų paminėti ir psichologinį laiką, t. y. tai, kaip žmogus vertina įvairius įvykius, jų tėkmę, priežasties ir pasekmės santykius. Todėl kalboje tiek daug žodžių ir žodžių junginių, kurie išreiškia laiko idėją. Pasirinktoje tirti lietuvių poezijoje atsispin- di tai, kaip žmogus laiką patiria, išgyvena.2 Lietuvių kultūroje laiko kategorijai būdingas dalijimas į tam tikras atkarpas: metus sudaro keturi metų laikai – pavasaris, vasara, ruduo, žiema, paros dalys – rytas, vakaras, diena, naktis ir kt. Toks laiko da- lijimas atsispindi ir lietuvių poezijoje: me- taforizuojamas ne tik abstraktas LAIKAS, bet ir metų laikai ar paros atkarpos. Šiame straipsnyje siekiama aptarti laiko personifikacijas, t. y. antropomorfinių laiko metaforų raišką šiuolaikinėje lietuvių poe- zijoje. Tyrimo medžiagą sudaro pavyzdžiai, surinkti iš penkiasdešimt penkių šiuolaiki- nės poezijos rinkinių. 1. Laikas kaip kūną turintis žmogus „Kūniškiausia“ laiko savybė yra žmogaus organų turėjimas. Laikas konceptualizuoja- 2 Straipsnio autorės nuoširdžiai dėkingos profeso- rei Eleonorai Lassan už vertingas pastabas ir patarimus rengiant straipsnį (aut.) S. Juzelėnienė, V. Seredžiūtė, S. Šarkauskienė. ANTROPOMORFINĖS LAIKO METAFOROS... 170 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA mas kaip žmogus, turintis galvą: ir krinta iš dangaus lengvi pūkai / lyg žilos pleiskanos nuo rudenio galvos (Jonynas 2003, p. 16); čia, prie fontano verkiančio delfino, / Kur laikas sunkią galvą pakabino (Patackas 1997, p. 111); virš pakaušio nakties / per- lamutru lakuotų pribarstyta ― / geišos nagelių (Šimonis 2001, p. 45); veidą: ir senas laiko veidas atsimaino (Baliukonė 2003, p. 157); ir krito pelenas ant ryto veido (Braziūnas 1999, p. 36); vandeninis kovo veidas (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 40); ryto skruostai duobėti (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 64); akis: Kur mano mėlynakiai vakarai (Bielskytė 2006, p. 42); nakties akis nėra akla, jei regi / pražydusią viršūnę, saulę tyrą (Cieškaitė 2002, p. 8); Skaitau apie tave / Iš vakaro akių (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 20); burną: sninga iš vasario burnos / balti pažadėjimai / krenta į miestą (Zelčiūtė 2004, p. 30); nakties vartuose / į pražiodytą akimirką / leidžiasi vienišo / mėnulio akys (Birgelis 2006, p. 39); lūpas: rytmečio lūpas suspaudžia (Birgelis 2006, p. 106); taip tiesiog būti/ ir žiūrėt naktimis / į pilką rudenio veidą už lango / liesti per stiklą jo iškreiptas lūpas (Zelčiūtė 2004, p. 22); dantis: valanda galanda dantis (Jonynas 1991, p. 178); Į upės dugną graužias laiko dantys (Patackas 2005, p. 151); žiema ant slenksčio / griežia dantimis, o mes dar ne- išmokę / rūpintis tavim, tave globoti, sergėt/ ir gerbti, tinkamai (Miliauskaitė 1999, p. 454); ausis: argi visas varnėnų spiečius / Vidurdienio ausyje dabar ošia (Drungytė 2008, p. 57). Dažnai vakaras ir naktis konceptualizuojami kaip žmonės, turintys galūnes: Peržegnojau mingantį pasaulį / Nuvaryto vakaro ranka (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 12); Juodu kalnu kurs rankoj nakties (Drungytė 2008, p. 10); barbenimas dienų klavišais / dienų pirštai dienų griaučiai (Bleizgys 2007, p. 19); žieduota nakties ranka kedena vakaro garbanas (Grajauskas 1996, p. 65); Kai pilnaties pilnam kieme naktis atgniaužė delnus... (Drungytė 2008, p. 27); Ir glosto ne saulėlydis raudonas / raudoną žolę vakaro delnais (Čepauskaitė 1998, p. 17); dar laukia ir dienos delnai karšti (Jonynas 1991, p. 139); Labas rytas miesteli / Klišom rudenio kojom (Drungytė 2008, p. 52); galimas daiktas didžiakojė naktis / praeis pro šalį (Grajauskas 1996, p. 31). Laikas konceptualizuojamas kaip asmuo, galintis turėti vidaus organus: ku- rios sielos inkstus degina / į laiko žarnyną kemša (Birgelis 2006, p. 116); švysteli nuo- gas nakties nervas (Kandratavičius 2004, p. 22); kažkas perkando gyslą nakties / iš jos srūva tamsos raudonis (Striogaitė 2005, p. 22); ir niekas šios dermės nesuardys / – bet plaka plaka rudenio širdis (Jonynas 1991, p. 65); ramiai ir atkakliai / širdis pir- madienio tuksi (Zelčiūtė 2000, p. 10); kūną, skeletą: barbenimas dienų klavišais / dienų pirštai dienų griaučiai (Bleizgys 2007, p. 19); bėginėja lyg skruzdės linkstančia / laiko nugara: šypsokis (Bložė 1998, p. 71); Numetęs savo kruvinus lapus / ruduo dar demonstruoja nuogą kūną (Jonynas 2003, p. 16); odą: liečiu tarp minučių / šliau- žiančio laiko odą (Paliulytė 2005, p. 7); plaukus: žieduota nakties ranka kedena vakaro garbanas (Grajauskas 1996, p. 65). Iš pateiktų pavyzdžių matyti, kad šio tipo metaforų grupėje ryškios tam tikros tendencijos: kaip gyva būtybė, turinti akis ir galūnes, dažniau konceptualizuojamos tamsiosios metų ar paros atkarpos – ruduo, žiema, naktis, vakaras. Įdomu tai, kad šie laiko hiponimai aptartoje metaforų grupėje dažniausiai neturi neigiamų konotacijų. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 171 2. Laikas kaip judantis, veikiantis asmuo 2.1. Lietuvių poezijoje dažniausiai laikas konceptualizuojamas kaip horizontaliai judanti būtybė. Šiuo atveju dažniausiai su laiko žodžiais vartojami judėjimo reikšmės veiksmažodžiai bėga, ateina, išeina, grįžta: klastingas laikas bėga (Birgelis 1993, p. 28); kyla vėjas, ateina laikas / stovi po atvi- ru langu / skeptiškai klauso, ką aš mąstau / žiūri, ką rašau (Bložė 1998, p. 94); Pakie- miais grįžta alkanas laikas (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 55); išeina laikas kaip sena artistė / prispaudusi prie kaulėtos krūtinės / rožes gegužio (Patackas 2005, p. 169); stovėjau ant kelio, tuščias/ keliu ėjo naktis, užstojau (Parulskis 1994, p. 75). Lėtai judančiam laikui apibūdinti kartais vartojami vaizdingieji veiksmažodžiai, pavyzdžiui, prisėlina rytas nelauktas ir šveičia/ pridžiūvusį vyną nuo stalo lentos (Čepauskaitė 2004, p. 25); ežeras, / pa- krante žvyro / pėdina graži naktis (Kajokas 1997, p. 192); užuot leidusi įtapsėti laikui su prekių krepšiu dar be prekių (Kaziliūnaitė 2007, p. 12). 2.2. Laikui būdingas ne tik judėjimas iš vietos į vietą, jis konceptualizuojamas kaip žmogus, atliekantis įvairius kitus žmogui būdingus veiksmus: kyla vėjas, ateina laikas / stovi po atviru langu / skeptiškai klauso, ką aš mąstau / žiūri, ką rašau (Bložė 1998, p. 94); kviečia gerti kavos / rytas / nuklojęs patalą (Birgelis 2006, p. 83); naktis nušluostys stalo dulkes / ir to kas parašyta nebeliks (Jonynas 2003, p. 61); naktyje stab- telėjusio rudens žingsniai (Bložė 2001, p. 37); antras mėnuo laikas žaidžia valandas ir minutes (Navakas 2003, p. 91); žiema batu vėl beldžia į duris (Norvila 2006, p. 55); knygų užsklandos žaidžia su vėju, / praeitis, pasigavus praeivį, atlyžta (Ališanka 1992, p. 27); taip į atspindį veido ir vėl / valanda įrašys naują rievę (Marčėnas 1999, p. 54). Kai kurie LAIKO – ASMENS atliekami veiksmai yra neigiamai konotuoti, pavyz- džiui: kol praloš mus ruduo ir žiema nusi- juoks į akis (Navakas 1996, p. 106); žiema batu vėl beldžia į duris (Norvila 2006, p. 55); amžiaus išnara vaiposi laikas (Baliu- konė 2003, p. 329); įžnybia rytas nemigoj rambus (Striogaitė 2005, p. 14); kovas į pa- širdžius kanda (Čepauskaitė, 1992, p. 40). Judėjimo metaforų grupėje vyrauja dau- giau konvencinės metaforos: laikas eina, bėga, grįžta, o veiksmo – poetinės: laikas žaidžia, juokiasi ir kt. 2.3. Sąlygiškai veiksmo metaforų grupei galima būtų priskirti laiko, kaip turinčios arba neturinčios galių veikti, t. y. bejėgės būtybės konceptualizavimo atvejus. Žmogaus sąmonėje ir kūryboje laikas iškyla kaip veikėjas, turintis galių kurti ir griauti. Taigi dažnai laikas konceptualizuo- jamas kaip kūrėjas arba griovėjas. Laikas kaip kūrėjas dažniausiai kon- ceptualizuojamas teigiamai, pavyzdžiui: Ir liūdesys sutvers poetą / kaip vyšnios žiedą sutveria pavasaris (Balbierius 1990, p. 38); nes tik laikas viską kuria (Balbierius 2008, p. 21); pasauliai švietė pro žodžius atakę / su šviesuliais – o tarsi laikas tvėrė / ugninę žvaigždę – Absoliuto žvakę... (Cieškaitė 2002, p. 21); o kaip griovėjas – neigiamai, pavyzdžiui: laikas / triuškina / viltis (Birge- lis 1993, p. 105); ruduo iš naujo nukariaus valstybę (Ališauskas 1996, p. 20); kad viską prarasiu kad laikas / mane suknežins ištaš- kys (Bleizgys 2004, p. 33); o dienos trupino / visus mano ginklus (Bleizgys 2007, p. 54). Laikas turi įvairių kitų galių, pavyzdžiui, padaryti tvarką, įsakyti, liepti, išlikti: ir tik S. Juzelėnienė, V. Seredžiūtė, S. Šarkauskienė. ANTROPOMORFINĖS LAIKO METAFOROS... 172 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA žiema čia tvarką padarys (Marčėnas 1999, p. 63); diena galinga, bet stipresnis žodis (Patackas 1997, p. 174); galynėjomės su lėta ateitim su tyla per tūlų lietų altų griūtį (Kandratavičius 2004, p. 17); tarytumei šis gruodis būtų liepęs (Kelmickas 1997, p. 17); tik žingsnis šalin tai bus išeitis / ku- rią diktuoja man ši naktis (Patackas 1998, p. 114); ši sekundė jus pragyvens (Patackas 1997, p. 38). Vis dėlto kai galios turėjimas, buvimas valdovu nėra tekste eksplikuojamas, o reiš- kiamas implicitiškai, tai dažniausiai tokia galia yra neigiamai konotuota, pavyzdžiui: bet patekėjus naktį kruvina ranka / nutrem- pia naktį rytmečio vergijon (Braziūnas 1999, p. 27); mes laiko ir byrančio tinko vergai (Ališauskas 1996, p. 34); Dėkoju, Jūsų malonybe Laike (Patackas 2002, p. 51); ruduo iš naujo nukariaus valstybę (Ališauskas 1996, p. 20); Šešėlių viešpats – vakaras – išnyra (Balbierius 2004, p. 27); Poezijoj aptinkama ir laiko bejėgišku- mo apraiškų, dažniau rodančių ribotumą, laikinumą, kartais – negalią. Laikas pasi- rodo kaip ligonis, senas, pamišęs, nusilpęs asmuo, pavyzdžiui: Naktis nepagydomai serga (Patackas 1997, p. 23); dar bandom / atgaivinti / laiką (Birgelis 1993, p. 96); Sapno taurėj miršta laikas (Balbierius 2004, p. 83); lyg uogas raudonas/ barstytų rugpjūčio mirtis (Balbierius 2004, p. 94); aplink mirštantį vasaros kūną (Balbierius 2008, p. 34); Artimiausiam kare / kris pa- šautas rugpjūtis (Braziūnas 1992, p. 22); Kuriam kieme naktis padvės? (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 45); o bejėgis laikas sukniubęs (Braziūnas 1993, p. 85); ruduo vis griuvo ir artėjo traukinys (Jonynas 1991, p. 65); ir pamišėlė naktis / juos prikala prie gęstan- čio dangaus (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 6); lyg sugirgžda vyriai / rudeniui kosint į delną (Ališanka 1992, p. 97); kur nė metai nieko neužgydys (Baliukonė 2003, p. 18); diena / maža pajuodus senučiukė (Bitinaitė 2002, p. 46); senas apkurtęs ruduo (Jakimavičius 2001, p. 52); išeina laikas kaip sena artistė / prispaudusi prie kaulėtos krūtinės / rožes gegužio (Patackas 2005, p. 169). Kaip matome iš pavyzdžių, laiko bejė- giškumas yra vienokios ar kitokios pabaigos metaforizacija. 3. Laikas kaip fiziologinių poreikių turinti būtybė Laiko kaip žmogaus konceptualizacija reiš- kiama ne tik kūno išvaizda, bet ir fiziologi- niais poreikiais. Laikas valgo, geria, jaučia alkį, nuovargį: kai širdį vakaras valgo, / aš klausiu – kodėl? (Paliulytė 2005, p. 22); Vėl geria nuodo nuovirą naktis (Patackas 1998, p. 124); diena aptingo ji baisi iš tolo (Navakas 1996, p. 11); šita naktis alkana (Jonynas, 1991, 55). Šiuo atveju vyrauja neigiamos konotacijos: vakaras valgo širdį, naktis nuodijasi, diena tingi, naktis alksta. Šiai metaforų grupei būdinga dar ir tai, kad konceptualizuojamos tik paros atkar- pos – diena, naktis, vakaras. Pastebima ten- dencija naktį sieti su alkiu, maisto poreikiu. 4. Laikas kaip emocijas patirianti būtybė Vis dėlto poezijoje aktualizuojami ne tik fiziniai žmogaus požymiai, bet ir požymiai, susiję su psichika, emocijomis. Laikas turi sielą, temperamentą, cha- rakterio bruožus, pavyzdžiui: apvirtęs išnyra kitoj pusėj, ryto sielos peizažas (Ališanka 1999, p. 7); ir putom drabstosi už du / pavasaris cholerikas (Marčėnas 2001, I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 173 p. 86); klastingas laikas bėga (Birgelis 1993, p. 28). Labai dažnai laikas vaizduojamas kaip emocijas patiriantis asmuo. Didesnę grupę sudaro pavyzdžiai, kuriuose laikas sieja- mas su neigiamomis emocijomis: pykčiu, įtūžiu: įtūžęs laikas mus pargins namo (Patackas 2005, p. 26); neapykanta: pal- šas neapykantos ruduo (Ališauskas 2007, p. 31); liūdesiu: liūdinčio vakaro paukštis (Ališauskas 1996, p. 31); pažiūrėk, koks nuliūdęs ruduo / ritinėja išgliaudytą gilę (Drungytė 2008, p. 53); ir rudenio liūdno paletėj / tik gelzgana pilkšva ir žalsva (Jo- nynas 1991, p. 98); Prošal praeina damos su petardom, / Liūdni rugsėjai, mėlyna mirtis (Patackas 1998, p. 18); Taurė bus vyno pa- kelta pirma / Už pralaimėjimą. Už liūdną dieną, / Už būsimą laikotarpį be Dievo (Patackas 1998, p. 147); Graudus birželio atvirukas (Bielskytė 2006, p. 66); Ak, kaip gražiai mes verkiame / Su rudeniu! (Biels- kytė 2006, p. 80); nerimu: baltas nerimas mano dienų – / baltas sniegas aerodromuos (Braziūnas 1992, p. 11); Juoduojanti vakaro nerimu, / Šalta migla (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 29); Ilgos naktys Sevilijoje... / Dar ilgesnės nerimo naktys už grotų (Patackas 2002, p. 48); ilgesiu: Žinau, kad ilgesiu / pagelto / dienos (Birgelis 1993, p. 100); tyko vienišų / vėluojančių keleivių / skausmingai ilgesio nakčiai (Bitinaitė 2002, p. 53); tu mūsų ilgesys esi naktie (Jonynas 1991, p. 25); kančia, skausmu: Kenčia / laikas / apkal- tintas buvimu (Birgelis 1993, p. 88); dejavo vakaras po liepa (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 67); mus džiaugsmo amžinybė ir kančios akimir- ka susieja (Baliukonė 2003, p. 73); kalte: kodėl neišsižadėti / savo laiko kaltės (Birge- lis 2006, p. 9); Kenčia / laikas / apkaltintas buvimu (Birgelis 1993, p. 88); verksmu, rūpesčiu, vienatve: Kaip tragiškai pravirko rytas (Jonynas 1991, p. 84); Juodą rūpesčių dieną aš patyriau staiga (Kelmickas 1997, p. 59); siūlo apginti mane / nuo tvankios nakties vienatvės (Ališanka 2006, p. 46); Vienišesnis tik laikas, atoslūgių potvynių aibės / ir paverčiantis kryžium koloną vi- durnakčio žaibas (Kelmickas 1997, p. 32). Te i g i a m o s e m o c i j o s s i e j a m o s s u džiaugsmu, laime: mus džiaugsmo amži- nybė ir kančios akimirka susieja (Baliukonė 2003, p. 73); reta naktis ateina gerai nusi- teikusi (Bložė 1998, p. 36); o laimingiausios dienos / ramiausi vakarai / užmigti / mano kūdikiui, kurkiant prūde varlėms (Miliaus- kaitė 1999, p. 243); Leis parašyt sonetą už ginėją / Ir pusę litro džiaugsmo valandos (Patackas 2002, p. 117); Laimingiausios valandos dosnios šiltos beribės (Zelčiūtė 2004, p. 103); ramybe: ir mes – jau ra- mūs / regėdami ryto ramybę? (Ališanka 1992, p. 82); ruduo ramus išnoko gaisras / liepsna slapčia sulaižo krūmus / ir die- vo vieton stojas toluma (Ališanka 1999, p. 46); nėr didesnės ramybės kaip naktį miške (Bložė 2001, p. 40); gydantys aliejai syvai žadantys / ramią rytdieną (Zelčiūtė 2004, p. 56); nuostaba: degė nakty nuste- busioj (Braziūnas 1992, p. 14); Pastebėta tendencija, kad dažniausiai neigiamos konotacijos siejamos su tam- siuoju laiko periodu – vakaru, naktimi, rudeniu. Kadangi teigiamos konotacijos vartojamos nedažnai, bendruosius dėsnin- gumus nustatyti gana keblu, laimingos, besidžiaugiančios gali būti ir valandos, ir naktys, ir vakarai. 5. Laikas kaip perceptyvi būtybė Laikas kaip žmogus atlieka veiksmus, su- sijusius su suvokimo pojūčiais: vakaras S. Juzelėnienė, V. Seredžiūtė, S. Šarkauskienė. ANTROPOMORFINĖS LAIKO METAFOROS... 174 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA / kalbės su mumis (Ališanka 1992, p. 82); nes laikas mūs klausos geriau jis kažko neišgirstų (Navakas 1996, p. 122); Paki- busios valandos klauso, sulaikiusios kvapą (Grajauskas 1993, p. 43); kyla vėjas, ateina laikas / stovi po atviru langu/ skeptiškai klauso, ką aš mąstau / žiūri, ką rašau (Bložė 1998, p. 94); kai ruduo skaito lapą po lapo/ taip kaip tas, kuris niekad neskaitė (Norvila 2006, p. 9); pro juodus / perregimus nėri- nius / žvelgia vėjuota naktis (Miliauskaitė 1999, p. 85); bet naktis nežiūrėjo į mus (Navakas 1996, p. 33); vakaras per petį žiūri mums į vyną (Navakas 2006, p. 22); nuo spalio žvilgsnių veidrodžiai susidėvėję (Kajokas 2005, p. 78). Viename kitame pavyzdyje ryški in- telektinė percepcija: apie ką tu galvoji rugsėji (Jonynas 1991, p. 56); intelekto požymiai: kas tie jie? Net ir rytas nežino. / Jis protingas, o vakaras kvailas (Norvila 2006, p. 62). 6. Laikas kaip lytį turinti būtybė Galima skirti grupę pavyzdžių, kuriuose LAIKAS – ASMUO yra vyriškosios arba moteriškosios lyties atstovas. Dažnai ly- tiškumo požymį lemia laiką įvardijančio žodžio gramatinė giminės kategorija, pavyzdžiui: ar prisimeni: nuotaką žiemą į mirtį pavasaris vedas (Parulskis 1998, p. 25); tik prisėda naktis prie manęs nusišypso lyg moteris (Balbierius 1990, p. 21); Naktis, įsidarbinusi sarge, šnipinėja ir mūsų / alsa- vimą trūkų ir nuojautas, krūpsnį (Braziūnas 1993, p. 35); Pašok, kol ši nuvargusi naktis / dar tavo kūno geismo neišblaivė (Kajokas 1997, p. 15); Kai graži brunetė naktis / Pa- bučiuoja tave į lūpas (Patackas 1998, p. 30). Tačiau yra ir išimčių, kai moteriškosios giminės laiką įvardijantis žodis koncep- tualizuojamas kaip vyras, ir atvirkščiai, pavyzdžiui: dabartis lyg pabėgęs rekrūtas dar slapstosi mūsų veiduos (Balbierius 1990, p. 18); išeina laikas kaip sena artistė / prispaudusi prie kaulėtos krūtinės / rožes gegužio (Patackas 2005, p. 169). Taigi, siekiant sukurti poetinį vaizdą, ištakos ir tikslo sričių gramatinė giminės kategorija teksto autoriui neaktuali. 7. Laikas kaip sociali būtybė Kartais laikas reprezentuojamas ir kaip as- muo, užsiimantis kokia nors veikla, turintis profesiją. Tiesa, dažniausiai neigiamai konotuotą, pavyzdžiui: Naktis, įsidarbinusi sarge, šnipinėja ir mūsų / alsavimą trūkų ir nuojautas, krūpsnį (Braziūnas 1993, p. 35); išeina laikas kaip sena artistė/ prispaudusi prie kaulėtos krūtinės / rožes gegužio (Pa- tackas 2005, p. 169). Gana daug pavyzdžių, kuriuose laikas laikomas vagimi, plėšiku: jau esu senatvės grobis (Braziūnas 1999, p. 86); viskas / ką laikas atima (Bleizgys 2004, p. 14); ir su- prasti / kad jau senokai esi ne namie / kad naktis grobia ir ėda (Kaziliūnaitė 2007, p. 21); kad tai rytas (po sunkaus mūšio lauke liko tūkstančiai poilsiautojų) / dirsčioja į marodierišką laikrodį (Bložė 2001, p. 11); įpusėjusi vasara vagia vaisius iš rudens (Navakas 1996, p. 125). Laikas gali būti konceptualizuojamas kaip tam tikro socialinio sluoksnio atsto- vas, pavyzdžiui, valkata: šeštadienis buvo valkata rudenio parke (Patackas 1997, p. 135); Rausias rytas įkaitintu pagaliu / po begėdiškai nuogas šiukšles (Čepauskaitė 1998, p. 81); Tarpuvartėj dvesiantis šimtme- tis gruodis girtuoklis / staiga pagyvėja ir vėl pasisavina širdį (Baliukonė 2003, p. 342). Kaip ir žmogus, laikas gali būti girtuoklis: I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 175 Girtas vakaras saulę suspardė (Čepauskaitė 1992, p. 25); Tarpuvartėj dvesiantis šimt- metis gruodis girtuoklis / staiga pagyvėja ir vėl pasisavina širdį (Baliukonė 2003, p. 342); girtas vakaras glaudžias prie kran- to (Jonynas 1991, p. 82) arba valdovas: bet patekėjus naktį kruvina ranka/ nutrempia naktį rytmečio vergijon (Braziūnas 1999, p. 27); Mes laiko ir byrančio tinko vergai (Ališauskas 1996, p. 34); Dėkoju, Jūsų ma- lonybe Laike (Patackas 2002, p. 51); Ruduo iš naujo nukariaus valstybę (Ališauskas 1996, p. 20); Šešėlių viešpats – vakaras – išnyra (Balbierius 2004, p. 27). Įdomu, kad laikui suteikiamos dažniau- siai neigiamą konotaciją turinčios profesijos ar gyvenimo būdas (pasenusi artistė, valka- ta, girtuoklis) arba, tiesa, dažniau implicitiš- kai jis konceptualizuojamas kaip valdovas. Apibendrinimas Lietuvių poezijoje dažniausiai konceptu- alizuojamas fizinis, į apibrėžtus tarpsnius skirstomas laikas: metų laikai, paros atkar- pos; valandomis, minutėmis, sekundėmis matuojamas laikas. Lietuvių poezijoje laikas konceptuali- zuojamas kaip žmogus, kuriam būdingi tiek fiziniai, tiek dvasiniai požymiai, lytiškumas, socializacija. Pagal tai gali būti skiriamos kelios laiko metaforų grupės: laikas kaip kūną turintis žmogus; laikas kaip judantis, veikiantis asmuo; laikas kaip fiziologinių poreikių turinti būtybė; laikas kaip emoci- jas patirianti būtybė; laikas kaip perceptyvi būtybė; laikas kaip lytį turintis asmuo; lai- kas kaip sociali būtybė. Ištyrus laiko metaforas, pastebėta, kad laikas šiuolaikinėje lietuvių poezijoje dažniau konotuotas neigiamai. Neigiamos laiko konotacijos būdingiausios laiko kaip socialios būtybės (LAIKAS – VAGIS), lai- ko kaip emocijas patiriančio asmens bei laiko kaip veikiančio asmens (LAIKAS – GRIOVĖJAS) metaforų grupėse. Neigiamai konotuoti laiko hiponimai susiję su naktimi, rudeniu, vakaru, t. y. tamsiaisiais paros, metų periodais, kurie metaforiškai repre- zentuoja vienokią ar kitokią pabaigą. Teigiamos konotacijos išryškėja laiko kaip emocijas patiriančio asmens (kai kal- bama apie džiaugsmą, laimę), laiko kaip veikiančio asmens (kai laikas konceptuali- zuojamas kaip kūrėjas). Išanalizavus pavyzdžius matyti, kad šiuolaikinėje lietuvių poezijoje konceptua- lizuojamam laikui būdingos tokios požymių opozicijos, atspindinčios laiko suvokimo ambivalentiškumą: laikas – turintis galių ir bejėgis, kūrėjas ir griovėjas, vyras ir moteris, kvailas ir protingas, besidžiaugiantis ir liū- dintis, sielvartaujantis, valkata ir valdovas. Šaltiniai ALIŠANKA, E., 1999. Dievakaulis. Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla. ALIŠANKA, E., 2006. Exemplum. Vilnius: Vaga. ALIŠANKA, E., 1992. Lygiadienis. Vilnius: Vaga. ALIŠAUSKAS, A., 1996. Prisukama karalys- tė. Vilnius: Lietuvos rašytojų sąjungos leidykla. 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Šarkauskienė. ANTROPOMORFINĖS LAIKO METAFOROS... 178 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Saulė Juzelėnienė Vilnius University, Lithuania Research interests: cognitive linguistics, lexical semantics, pragmatics Viktorija Seredžiūtė Vilnius University, Lithuania Research interests: neo-Latin literature, cogni- tive poetics Skirmantė Šarkauskienė Vilnius University, Lithuania Research interests: visual and verbal rhetorics, classics, neo-Latin literature ANTHROPOMORPHIC METAPHORS OF TIME IN MODERN LITHUANIAN POETRY Summary Time is one of the most important categories related to human existence. Like all abstracts, the conceptualization of time is based on certain experience structures stored in our minds. Time studies in the Lithuanian language are not new—it has been analyzed in poetry, riddles and folk songs. This article aims to analyze the anthropomorphic metaphors used in contemporary Lithuanian poetry. The study material consists of samples collected from modern poetry collections. The study shows that time in Lithuanian po- etry is conceptualized as a human being, having both physical and spiritual attributes, gender, and socialization. Therefore, all the anthropomorphic metaphors can be divided into a few categories: 1. Time and the Human Body, 2. Time and Move- ment/Action, 3. Time and Physiology, 4. Time and Gender, 5. Time and Emotion, 6. Time and Perception, 7. Time and Power, and 8. Time and Social Relations. The study reveals that time in modern Lithu- anian poetry tends to have rather negative connota- tions. The negative connotations are mostly related to the category of Time and Emotions, and to metaphors of the Time and Power group. Negative connotations are associated with the dark periods of time: autumn, night, evening. There are only a few positive connotations; they are related to the Time and Emotion, Time and Power and some Time and Body metaphor groups. In modern Lithuanian poetry, certain signs of opposition, reflecting am- Saulė Juzelėnienė Uniwersytet Wileński, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: lingwistyka kogni- tywna, lingwistyka tekstu, semiotyka reklamy, semantyka leksykalna, pragmatyka, analiza dyskursu Viktorija Seredžiūtė Uniwersytet Wileński, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: literatura nowoła- cińska, poetyka kognitywna Skirmantė Šarkauskienė Uniwersytet Wileński, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: literatura starożytna, literatura nowołacińska, retoryka wizualno- werbalna ANTROPOMORFICZNE METAFORY CZASU WE WSPÓŁCZESNEJ POEZJI LITEWSKIEJ Streszczenie Czas jest jedną z najważniejszych kategorii związa- nych z ludzką egzystencją. Podobnie jak wszystkie abstrakty, czas jest konceptualizowany w języku w oparciu o określone struktury i doświadczenie prze- chowywane w naszej świadomości. W niniejszym artykule, za pomocą metody analizy konceptual- nej, podjęto próbę określenia sposobów realizacji antropomorficznych metafor czasu, zaliczanych do kategorii metafor ontologicznych, we współ- czesnej poezji litewskiej. Omówiono następujące grupy metafor antropomorficznych: 1. Czas i ciało ludzkie, 2. Czas i ruch, 3. Czas i fizjologia, 4. Czas i płeć, 5. Czas i emocje, 6. Czas i percepcja, 7. Czas i moc, 8. Czas i otoczenie społeczne. Podczas badania okazało się, że we współczes- nej poezji litewskiej czas częściej ma negatywne konotacje, zwłaszcza w grupach metafor czasu i percepcji, czasu i emocji oraz czasu i mocy. Ne- gatywnie konotowane hiponimy czasu wiążą się z nocą, jesienią, wieczorem, tj. „ciemnymi” porami doby czy roku. Pozytywne konotacje występują w grupach metafor czasu i emocji, czasu i mocy oraz w niektórych metaforach czasu i ciała. We współczesnej poezji litewskiej konceptualizowa- ny czas charakteryzują określone opozycje cech, odzwierciedlające ambiwalentność postrzegania czasu: czas – mający moc i bezsilny, twórca i I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 179 bivalence in the perception of time, are displayed: time as a powerful or powerless person, time as a creator or a destroyer, time as a man or a woman, time as a stupid or smart person, time as an enjoying or melancholic person, time as a beggar or a ruler. KEY WORDS: conceptual metaphor, metapho- rization, metaphorizational projection, concept, ontological metaphor. burzyciel, mężczyzna i kobieta, głupi i mądry, ra- dosny i smutny, pogrążony w rozpaczy, włóczęga, pijak i władca. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: metafora konceptualna, metaforyzacja, projekcja metaforyzacji, koncept, metafora ontologiczna. Gauta 2012 05 15 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 S. Juzelėnienė, V. Seredžiūtė, S Šarkauskienė. ANTROPOMORFINĖS LAIKO METAFOROS... 180 Lina Buividavičiūtė Vilniaus universitetas Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas Muitinės g.12, LT–44280, Kaunas, Lietuva Tel. +370 674 19511 El. p. lina_buividaviciute@yahoo.com Moksliniai interesai: hermeneutika, modernizmas, postmodernizmas, egzistencializmas EGZISTENCIJOS TIPAI RIČARDO GAVELIO ROMANE „VILNIAUS POKERIS” Ričardo Gavelio kūrybos perskaitymas lietuvių literatūroje vis dar išlieka problemiškas. Autoriaus romanų recepcija yra prieštaringa, balansuojanti tarp modernizmo ir postmoder- nizmo teorijų. Straipsnyje analizuojamas vienas reikšmingiausių Gavelio romanų – „Vilniaus pokeris“. Tyrimas pagrįstas prielaida, jog postmodernioji kūrinio kompozicija slepia moder- nistinę romano koncepciją. Straipsnio tikslas – aktualizuoti postmodernistinę-modernistinę „Vilniaus pokerio“ poetiką, išskirti ir analizuoti egzistencijos tipus romane. Postkolonialistinė sulaužyto žmogaus būtis tyrime priešinama su autentiškos egzistencijos siekiniu ir galimybe. Autentiškos būties sąvoka straipsnyje analizuojama, remiantis Martino Heideggerio, Söreno Kierkegaardo, Martino Buberio filosofija. Dialogiško pasakojimo samprata siejama su Mi- chailo Bachtino įžvalgomis. Darytina išvada, jog prasminė „Vilniaus pokerio“ kvintesencija yra modernistinė. Au- tentiškos būties siekinys romane yra dialogiškas, tačiau iki galo nerealizuotas. Siekiantysis tikrosios egzistencijos pasiklysta postmodernistiniame niekio žaidime. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: egzistencializmas, postmodernizmas, postkolonializmas, dekons- trukcija, autentiška būtis, dialogiškumas, monologiškumas, polifoniškumas. Ričardo Gavelio (1950–2002) kūrybos re- cepcija vis dar išlieka problemiška, neviena- lytė. Vienas žymiausių lietuvių prozininkų ir dabartiniame lietuvių literatūros mokslo kontekste vertinamas prieštaringai. Šoki- ruojantys, erotizuoti, sunkiai perskaitomi Gavelio romanų pasauliai literatūros tyrėjų dažnai identifikuojami kaip postkolonia- listinio būvio problematiką atskleidžiantys atributai. Gavelio sukurtas subjektas neretai traktuojamas kaip simuliakrinės tikrovės šizofrenikas, erotomanija ir gigantomanija sergantis, parodijos vertas postkolonialinis žmogus. Autentiškos būties prielaidos iškė- limas, koncepto tyrinėjimas dialogiškumo aspektu – naujas žvilgsnis į intertekstualią, daugiaprasmę autoriaus kūrybą. Tyrime remiamasi prielaida, kad post- modernistinėje romano aplinkoje slypi autentiškos būties pradas, siekiamybė. Vilniaus pokeryje R. Gavelis pavaizduoja gyvenamojo pasaulio griūtį, dekonstruoja angažuotame erdvėlaikyje esančias blogy- bes, įvardija ir parodijuoja pseudožmogaus pseudoegzistencijos ypatumus. Vytauto Rubavičiaus teigimu, „Vilniaus pokeris“ <...> klasikinės modernistinės prozos stambiosios prozos apraiška. Tokiai prozai I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 181 svarbu sumanymas, idėja, konstrukcija.“ (2007, p. 113). Konstruodamas postmo- dernųjį pasaulį, R. Gavelis ne tik leidžia, bet ir verčia skaitytoją modernistiškai tą pasaulį atkoduoti: suvokti gyvenamojo pasaulio absurdą ir pažadinti dvasią auten- tiško egzistavimo galimybei. Pasak Jūratės Baranovos, Gavelis (kaip, beje, ir Jurga Ivanauskaitė) yra pirmieji lietuvių literatū- ros atstovai, įkėlę koją į postmoderniosios kūrybos lauką – tai žymi intertekstualių ženklų prisodrintas miesto chronotopas. Vis dėlto greta simuliakrinės hipertikrovės Gavelio kūryboje dar vyrauja medžiaginės, atpažįstamos realybės vaizdiniai (Baranova 2006, p. 320). Straipsnyje keliama hipotezė, jog au- tentiška būtis yra dialogiška – dinamiška, atvira, daugiabalsiška, tačiau neįmanoma be unikalios, vienatinės Aš ištaros radimo polifoniškoje balsų jūroje. Tyrime taikoma hermeneutinė teorija, aktualizuojamas dialogiškumo aspektas. Autentiškos būties fenomeno analizė pa- grįsta egzistencinės filosofijos kontekstu. Autentiška būtis yra dialogiška Michailas Bachtinas identifikavo pamati- nius dialogiškos veikėjo sąmonės ypatu- mus: skvarbusis žodis – realiojo dialogo kreipinys; užslėptoji polemika – vidiniu monologu, mintyse steigiamas disputas su Aš antrininku, kitu ir pasauliu; maiš- tingas, daugiabalsiškas kreipimosi žodis, gyvenamojo pasaulio duotybių kvestio- navimas. Martinas Buberis akcentavo ir aiškino veiksmingos filosofinės komunikacijos dialogo funkciją. Dialogas, pasak Bube- rio (2001, p. 51), – sąmoninga prasminga atvertis pasauliui, jo priklausiniams ir beatodairiškas solipsistinės tvirtovės įvei- kimas, bylojantis pokalbis, galimas ir išo- rinėje tyloje. Remiantis M. Bachtino ir M. Buberio iš- skirtomis dialogiškumo sampratomis, dary- tina išvada, kad autentiškos būties siekinys yra dialogiškas. Šuolis į būtį, egzistencinė ribinė situacija galima tik introspektyviai reflektuojant pasaulio duotybes – gausy- bę kitų ištarų, nuolat skambančių būties balsų. Dialogas – tai tikrąją esatį steigianti kuriančiosios, fenomenologinės sąmonės galia. Autentiškas disputas – tiesos kaip savojo balso paieška. Esminė jos sąlyga yra dekartiškoji abejonė, maištas, regimybės demaskavimas. Dialogiška sąmonė, pirma, yra atvira sau (savistaba, savityra, formaliai pasyvi, vidujai labai intensyvi kitų būčių interiorizacija – grožiniame kūrinyje atsi- skleidžia vidinio monologo struktūromis), antra – ne mažiau atliepianti kito kalbėse- nai (meno veikale reiškiasi kaip Bachtino identifikuotas būties minimumas, realusis dialogas su kitu). Monologiška būtis yra neautentiška, ne- tikroji, paskandinta kolektyviniame būvyje. Homo neautenticus būtis koreliuoja su M. Heideggerio filosofijoje įvardyta das Man (minios, kasdienybės žmogaus – aut. past.) egzistencija: „Vidutinybė yra das Man egzistencialistinis bruožas. <...> Ši vidutinybė <...> pavydžiai stebi bet kokią išsiskiriančią išimtį. Kiekvienas pranašu- mas yra be triukšmo nuslopinamas. Visa, kas originalu, yra kaipmat suniveliuo- jama, tarsi tai būtų seniai žinoma. Visa, kas sunkiai iškovota, paverčiama patogia banalybe. Kiekviena paslaptis praranda savo jėgą. Šis vidutinybės rūpestis dar sykį atskleidžia esminę čia-būties tendenciją, kurią mes vadiname visų būties galimybių L. Buividavičiūtė. EGZISTENCIJOS TIPAI RIČARDO GAVELIO ROMANE „VILNIAUS POKERIS” 182 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA sulyginimu (Einebnung)“ (1992, p. 78). Neautentiškas suvidutinėjęs subjektas nepa- tiria nuostabos fenomeno, vengia akistatos su svetimumu ir nepažinumu alsuojančia esinių būtimi, bėga nuo pamatinio Aš mir- tingumo fakto, ribinės situacijos potyrio. Kūrinyje monologiška būtis realizuojama vienaplanišku pasakojimu, visažinio na- ratoriaus figūra, neprieštaringu, nesudė- tingu, paklūstančiu stereotipams, veikėjų paveikslu. Dialogiškos-autentiškos būties steigtis yra itin problemiška – atsivėrimas sau ir kitam – sudėtingas, prieštaringas aktas, kuris neimplikuoja taip trokštamo pažini- mo sėkmės. Pasak J. Kristevos, „<...> kito sąmonė lieka nepermatoma mano sąmonei: kito sąmonę aš galiu tik stebėti. Kitas taip pat kuria save kaip „gryną duotybę“, užuot buvęs „tuo, kas esu aš“. Kadangi vienintelė sąmonė, kuri man atsiveria nuosavu tempo- ralumu, yra tiktai mano sąmonė, ji praranda objektyvumą... <...> Taigi sąmonė susiduria su dviem neįveikiamomis kliūtimis: sąmo- nių sklaida (jų pliuralumu) ir sąmonių kova“ (2003, p. 193). Dialogiškos, bylojančios būties prieš- taringumas slypi pačioje kalbos fenomeno prigimtyje: ištara yra subjektyvi, negebanti perteikti tikrojo potyrio, lengvai pasiduo- danti monologiškojo pasaulio vilionėms, beprasmiam šnekėjimui: „Ir kadangi šneka prarado pirminį būtiškąjį ryšį su apšnekamu esiniu ar tokio ryšio išvis neturėjo, ji girdi- ma ne kaip pirmapradis šio esinio byloji- mas, o tik kaip perpasakojimas ar paskala. <...> Šnekalai <...> ne tik atpalaiduoja nuo būtinybės siekti tikro supratimo, bet suku- ria tam tikrą indiferentišką suprantamumą, kuriam nebėra jokių paslapčių.“ (Heidegeris 1992, p. 84–85). Galime daryti išvadą, jog autentiškos- dialogiškos egzistencijos steiginys yra su- dėtingas, didelio sąmoningumo ir skausmin- gos dvasinės praktikos reikalaujantis aktas. Egzistencijos tipai Vilniaus pokeryje galima išskirti du pagrin- dinius egzistencijos tipus: tai – homo neau- tenticus ir autentiškos būties siekėjai. Homo neautenticus yra nevienalytis darinys, homo sovieticus ir homo lithuanicus konstruktas. Homo sovieticus. Tai savita homo sa- piens – protingojo žmogaus – parodija. Tai nesugebanti atlikti svarbiausios žmogaus priedermės žemėje – kurti – rūšis. Homo sovieticus nebūdinga individuali tapatybė. Tai, kalbant romano terminologija, – iška- nuoti padarai (sovietinės sistemos meistrų tvarinys, savotiškas Frankenšteino kūrybos analogas). Jie kalba orveliška naujakalbe, ištikimai tarnauja sistemai ir gyvena pagal naujažmogių principus. Dėl savo (anti) idealų gali būti sadistai, jiems svetima em- patija, emocinis intelektas ir bet kokie būtį įautentinantys veiksniai. Iškanuotos būties simbolika romane tampa pakeistos, išpre- paruotos, hominem sovieticum dariniu pa- pildytos arba tarakonų apniktos smegenys: „Jo šnekoje išvis nebuvo žmogiškų žodžių įprasta prasme. Tasai Molotovas buvo idea- lus naujažmogis... <...> Jis buvo baisus tuo savo nežmogiškumu. Visa, kas žmogiška, jam buvo svetima.“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 279). Homo sovieticus kolektyvinės, angažuotos sąmonės produktas. Dera pastebėti, jog ir šio egzistencinio porūšio tapatybė nėra vienalytė: egzistuoja iš prigimties iškanuo- tieji ir atsivertėliai – kamufliažo meistrai, prisitaikėliai-konformistai. Tokiai tarpinei rūšiai romane atstovauja bibliotekoje dir- banti partinė Elena. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 183 Remiantis egzistencializmo pradininko Söreno Kierkegaardo sukurta egzistencine paradigma, sudaryta iš trijų dominančių (estetinis, etinis ir religinis buvimo pasau- lyje būdai), homo sovieticus ir dažnas homo lithuanicus priklausytų estetinei būties pa- kopai. Estetinė būtis pasižymi egocentrišku- mu, betarpišku malonumų siekimu, juslumo pasirinkimu – bėgimu nuo tikrosios būties sudėtingumo ir egzistencinio skausmo (žr. Kierkegaard 1997, p. 85–110). Įdomu tai, kad estetiška vadinama būtis Vilniaus poke- ryje kartais virsta antiestetišku, groteskišku būviu: „Jis šliaužioja apie ją, o ji tebeklūpo, šlykščiai prasižergus, atstačius užpakalį, vis kelia jį aukštyn, riečiasi, tarsi norėtų išsiverst išvirkščia.“ (1990, p. 95). Homo sovieticus būtis savo prigimtimi paneigia bet kokią A. Camus implikuotą sizifiško maišto idėją, kurios genezei besą- lygiškai būtinas introspektyvus disputas, dialogiška, klausianti ištara. Homo lithuanicus būva tarpinėje gran- dyje, jo egzistencija drungna: nei autentiška, nei visiškai suniveliuota ir masiškai kolek- tyvizuota kaip homo sovieticus. Esminė hominis lithuanici tragedija – sulaužyto žmogaus sindromas: praradęs autentišką gy- venamąjį pasaulį, šis egzistencinis vienetas neteko pamatinės dvasinės atramos („Homo sovieticus iššifravo Visatos Subinės struk- tūrą ir prie jos prisitaikė. Homo lithuanicus prie nieko neprisitaikė, todėl yra nė joks“. (1990, p. 309)). Iš esmės, hominis lithu- anici kūno ir dvasios duomenys nėra visai blogi, tačiau atimtas prigimtinių poreikių patenkinimo orumas, prarasta kūrybinės galios laisvė susilpnino gyvybinį polėkį. Lietuvio siela stekenama per fizinės stokos paradigmą. Tai identifikuodamas martrašti- ninkas remiasi Abrahamo Maslow išskirtu žmogaus poreikių hierarchijos konceptu: „Kad žmogus pajustų dvasios alkį, turi būti ne tik sočiai, bet ir skaniai pamaitinęs kūną, ne tik šiltai, bet ir dailiai apsirengęs. Tik tuomet gali susimąstyti, kad jam, rasi, reiktų ir šiokio tokio peno dvasiai.“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 274). Ryškiausi hominis lithuanici tapatybės realizatoriai romane yra biblio- tekos darbuotojos Marija, Beta, Gražina: „Liūdniausia, kad jeigu joms duotų gerų dešrų, kvepalų ir apatinių kelnaičių, jos paliktų visai patenkintos gyvenimu.“ (Ten pat, p. 274). Kaip minėta, hominis lithuanici būvis yra neautentiškas, atitinkantis estetinę kierkegardiškąją paradigmą. Toks subjek- tas taip pat vengia tikrojo šuolio į būtį; hominis lithuanici susidūrimas su egzisten- cija – priverstinis, paskatintas žemesniųjų poreikių patenkinimo stokos. Šio potipio subjektas – tylusis maištininkas iš buitiš- kos pareigos – neprimena Camus Sizifo. Hominis lithuanici laisvės troškimas gana primityvus: siekiama ne minties, sprendimo savarankiškumo, bet galimybės nevaržomai naudotis deficitinėmis gėrybėmis. Patenki- nęs kūniškąsias reikmes, homo lithuanicus galbūt ir sumanytų, martraštininko žodžiais tariant, pamaitinti dvasią. Tačiau tai jau būtų ne autentiškas maištas, o banalus kon- formizmas, taigi – taip pat monologiškos būties steiginys. Homo sovieticus ir homo lithuanicus būtis – tikrosios egzistencijos antitezė: monologiška, vienaplaniška, neklausianti ir neabejojanti (anti)tiesos monogamija. Autentiškos dialogiškos egzistenci- jos steigėjai Nors martraščio autorius Martynas pats save priskiria hominis lithuanici tapatybei, straipsnio autorės manymu, šis personažas, L. Buividavičiūtė. EGZISTENCIJOS TIPAI RIČARDO GAVELIO ROMANE „VILNIAUS POKERIS” 184 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA kaip ir tuteiša Stefa Monkevičiūtė, priskir- tinas nesėkmingos realizacijos autentiškos būties steigėjams. Ryškiausiai autentiškos būties paieškos atsispindi Vytauto Vargalio ir Gedimino Riaubos egzistencinėse plo- tmėse. Tyrime aktualizuojamas Vargalio tikrosios būties steiginys. Visų autentiškos būties steigėjų uždavi- nys – sudėtingas ir donkichotiškas. Vilniaus pokerio subjektai esti fragmentuotoje nie- kio aplinkoje, angažuotame erdvėlaikyje. Tai sulaužytos tapatybės, šizofreniškos sąmonės savininkai, kurių dialogo mėgi- nys pasmerktas atsimušti į monologiško pasaulio sieną. Vytauto Vargalio, pagrindinio romano (anti)herojaus, autentikos siekinys – itin problemiškas. Apibūdindamas jo tapatybę, martraštininkas Poška teigia: „Mane domi- na žmonės. O jų pažinojau ne tiek jau daug. Jų taip reta. Tvirtai sakau: Vytautas Vargalys buvo žmogus.“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 247). Martynas liudija labai svarbų Vargalio autentiškos būties steigimo kliuvinį: iš- trūkęs iš fizinio lagerio, Vargalys patenka į dvasinį. Veikėjo sąmonė skyla. Pasaulis herojui tampa belaikis – kaip amžinoji solipsistinė Vilniaus tvirtovė, iš kurios jis visomis išgalėmis mėgina išsiveržti. Kritikavęs Camus Sizifą, Vargalys – para- noiškas būties maištininkas – tampa itin artimas šiam mitiniam metaforizuotos absurdiškos būties herojui. Camus mąsto paradoksalią autentiškos būties galimybę: ji įmanoma tik suvokiant ir patiriant jos neautentiškumą kaip visuotinio absurdo dėsnį. Camus siūloma išeitis – absurdo dar neuzurpuota laisvės galimybė, kuri unifikuoja ir steigia būtį. Vidiniame Vargalio monologe itin ryški užslėpta polemika, kreipimosi žodis – visą veikėjo sąmonės erdvę užpildanti svetimo žodžio nuojauta. Save Aš iš dalies pažįsta per Kitą, kurio nuomonė geba lemti Aš reprezentaciją pasaulyje. Kita vertus, Aš geidžia išsilaisvinti iš Kito įtakos, „būti pats sau“. Taip, pasak Bachtino, gimsta polemiškas sąmonės konfliktas: „Savęs įteisinimas skamba kaip nepaliaujanti pa- slėpta polemika arba paslėptas dialogas apie save patį su kitu, svetimu žmogumi“ (1996, p. 245). Autentiškos Vilniaus pokerio būties prielaida steigiasi per skausmingą polifoni- ją – nesibaigiantį disputą su Aš antrininko tiesa, su Kitu ir pasaulio duotybėmis. Į teksto ir konteksto polemiką kviečiamas įsilieti ir romano adresatas-skaitytojas: „Nelaukiau atpildo, bet vis dėlto koviausi. Ir tebesikaunu. Už ką? Po velnių – už tave, ir tave, už jus visus!“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 21). Paskatintas Vilniaus pokerio dialogiškumas, polemikos geismas bent iš dalies lemia romano persvaziją. Polifoniškas Vargalio kreipimasis rea- lizuojamas retoriniais klausimais, kurie iš- kviečia Vargalio sąmonę į amžiną dekartišką abejonę, neatsakomaisiais besiliejantį savo- jo balso radimo geismą. Dialogas-disputas su pačiu savimi atskleidžia sintetinančią, kuriančią vaizduotės galią. Retrospektyvios digresijos egzistuoja vienoje plotmėje su vadinamąja dabartimi. Dialogiškos sąmonės perspektyvoje kaitomi balsai nejučia lydi ir demaskuoja vienas kitą, gimusią mirčiai ištarą seka antra. Pats Vargalys deklaruoja belaikės esaties dabartiškumą – taip pa- grindžiama fenomenologinė daugiabalsiš- kumo prigimtis. Prisiminimai ne pasyviai atgaminami, bet gimsta dabar juos reflek- tuojančioje sąmonėje. Paradoksalu, tačiau Vargalio ir Antrininko dialogas vyksta nuskaidrėjusio sąmoningumo šviesoje: „Tik praradusieji dvasią bauginasi vidinių I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 185 pabaisų. Tik netekusieji atsvaros apsimeta, kad jų vidus grynas ir dailus. Išties didis tegali tapti, sujungęs savo dangų su savo pragaru“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 39). Nepaisant šizofreniškų Vargalio sąmonės apraiškų, iškreiptų tikrovės vaizdinių, herojus suvokia žmogaus prigimties daugiabalsiškumą ir nepageidaujamų ištarų neeliminuoja. „Kie- kvienas tikras ieškojimas yra pragariškas, didieji atradimai padaromi ties beprotybės riba“ (Ten pat, p. 79). Ši riba – egzistenci- nės ribinės situacijos atitikmuo. Vargališkasis dialogas pasižymi inter- tekstualiu kultūriniu, filosofiniu, politiniu, istoriniu dėmeniu – polemizuojanti sąmonė yra intelektuali, žaidybiška, ironiška, pasti- šiška. Identifikuoti kontekstai literatūros so- ciologijos plotmėje vertintini kaip esamojo laiko tikrovę formuojantys laukai – herojaus savasties steiginys jau nebekuriamas kolo- nialistinio būvio priemonėmis – kultūri- nėmis barikadomis. Dialogiškas Vargalio monologas tarpsta didesnių laukų viduje. Itin polifoniškame herojaus sąmonės dis- kurse pinasi LDK mitai, Stalinas, Brežne- vas, žydiškasis identitetas, Kafka, Camus, Polianskis... Reikšminga romano tiesa skleidžiasi per kūniškąjį dialogą. Viena vertus, kūno poetika atveria vidinį subjekto santykį su išorine savasties projekcija. Kita vertus, kūniškasis Aš-Kito santykis atskleidžia tarpsubjektinės komunikacijos problemiš- kumą. Vidinio monologo vyksme kūnas tarnauja ir kaip galios raiška (todėl kūrinyje tiek daug psichoseksistinių manipuliacijų, vyriškojo seksualinio pajėgumo įrodymų), ir kaip būdas parodyti Aš-ir Aš projekcijos neatitikimą, egzistencialistinį susidvejinu- sio subjekto (stebinčiojo ir stebimojo Aš) skilimą. Tai puikiai iliustruoja Vargalio at- likta apžiūra: „Dabar stoviu visiškai nuogas prieš veidrodį – mano kūnas sužvarbęs, bet aš atkakliai žiūriu į save – jau valandą ar dieną, ar savaitę. <...> Kažkas čia netikra, nepatikima, tarytum dailininkas tebūtų siekęs pigaus efekto. <...> Tarp veidrodžio rėmų esu aš pats, bet kartu ne aš, o kažkoks jis, piktomis akimis žvelgiąs į mane“ (Gave- lis 1990, p. 35–36). Iškalbinga šios citatos duotybė yra skaidriojo pažinimo negacija: visą savo kūniškąjį Aš subjektas regi tik per kitą žmogų arba mediją (nuotraukos, kino juosta, šiuo atveju – veidrodis). Medija kaip tarpininkas suponuoja betarpiško pažinumo negalimumą ir pagrindžia egzistencinę ne- perprantamo pasaulio idėją. Paradoksalu, tačiau vaisingiausias vidinio monologo pliūpsnis Vargalio sąmonėje gimsta Riaubai skambinant džiazuojančią Vilniaus pokerio variaciją. Būtent tada išsivynioja visas žmogaus būties prasmių ir beprasmybių kamuolys, kurio siūlai – muzikos garsai – įveikia kalbos neatitikimo barjerą: „Dabar Gedis groja vienatvę, težią, lėtą Vilniaus vienatvę... <...> Tai buvo nebe muzika, bent jau ne vien muzika – juodosios magijos seansas (asociacija su „Meistro ir Margari- tos“ Volando magijos seansu – maskviškių ydų demaskavimo žaidimu – aut. past.), akių atvėrimo ritualas, tiesos akimirksnis, ispaniškasis momento de verdad“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 127–129). Vytautas Vargalys teigia iracionaliojo, intuityviojo pažinimo priva- lomybę. Tikrasis būties potyris skleidžiasi kaip individualioji empirinė duotis ir kūry- biška jos refleksija: „Niekas iš mūsų nežino, kuo yra kaltinamas (asociacija su Kafkos Procesu – aut. past.). Jų tikslas negali būti aprašytas logiškai, čia gali padėti tik meta- foros ir nuojautos, absurdiškos asociacijos ir poetiniai sugretinimai. Tik poetinė nuojauta L. Buividavičiūtė. EGZISTENCIJOS TIPAI RIČARDO GAVELIO ROMANE „VILNIAUS POKERIS” 186 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA gali atvesti į Kelią, tik ji prasiskverbia pro patalogikos šarvą kaip kvapas pro akliną uolą“ (1990, p. 138–139). Iracionalųjį Vargalio sąmonės dėmenį pagrindžia juslingasis, per kvapo-pojūčio sąveiką, atitikmenį (correspondance) gims- tantis intuityvusis, kūrybiškas pažinimas. Kvapas – patikimiausias praeities sargas, autentiškos savasties liudytojas, perspė- jantis apie pavojų ar pranešantis apie ma- lonų objektą ar subjektą. Todėl šio pojūčio nykimas romane siejasi su neišvengiamai artėjančia mirtimi: „Neužuodžiu jokių kva- pų – jie irgi apmirę. <...>... mano jutimai neturi prasmės, jei nėra ką uosti, lytėti, skanauti“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 228). Kaip priešprieša niveliuojančiai eroto- manijai romane pateikiama kita Vargalio siekiamybė – etinis būvis, kuriančios meilės potencijos aktualizacija. Romane stebimas protagonisto gyvenimo pakopų virsmo mė- ginys, estetiniam būviui transformuojantis į etinį, patiriant ribinę situaciją, melancholi- jos dvelksmą. Vis dėlto dera pastebėti, jog Kierkegaardo išskirta aukščiausia – religi- nė – gyvenimo pakopa kūrinyje lieka nere- alizuota. Vilniaus pokerio pasaulėvaizdyje Dievui vietos nėra – romane jis jau seniau- siai pakabintas ant būties vartotojų suręsto kryžiaus. Vargalio dialogas nepaženklintas Buberio identifikuotos bylojimo šventybės, todėl nėra iki galo autentiškas. Realiojo Vytauto Vargalio ir Kito dia- logo realizacija taip pat itin problematiška: herojus įvardija esminius dialogiško krei- pimosi į kitą kliuvinius: tai kalbos ribotu- mas, žmogaus dvasios ir minties polėkius ribojanti aplinka, kanukiški Jų veiksmai, paverčiantys subjektą egocentriška solip- sistinėje monologiškoje esaties tvirtovėje užsibarikadavusia būtybe, kuri nebesugeba kreiptis į kitą, kaip į lygiavertį, savaimingai vertingą hominis sapienti: „Martyno smak- ras vos pastebimai tirtėjo iš susijaudinimo. Jį visad sukrečia jo paties pasauliniai atra- dimai. Mane labiau domino šuo... <...> – Na ir kas? – burbtelėjau. Neturim tai neturim“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 31). Vis dėlto mylinčiojo suinteresuotumo dimensija (jausmas Lolitai) verčia Vargalį pačiam siekti dialogiško santykio su Kitu, iš naujo spręsti egzistencinę nesusikalbėjimo problemą. Herojus renkasi nebyliojo dialo- go galimybę, taip realizuodamas Buberio išskirtą bylojančios neįkalbintos ištaros galimybę: „Mudu tylėjom, nes tai buvo gal- būt vienintelis būdas nors kiek susišnekėti. <...> Jie negali įsibrauti tik į dviejų protų, keturių akių nebylų pokalbį. Sunkiausia pasaulyje – kaip nors susišnekėti. (Aš jau- čiu, tikiu, noriu tikėti, kad mudu su Lolita taip susišnekam.)“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 161). Vis tik Vargalio ir Lolitos dialogas pasirodo esąs dar vienas nulemtojo nesusikalbėjimo pavyzdys, ištaromis apsigaubęs majos pavidalas, vedantis į polemizuojančiųjų susinaikinimą. Nesėkmingą perspektyvaus Vytauto Vargalio vidinio monologo baigtį lemia negalėjimas įsteigti savojo balso, kuris yra uzurpuojamas besočio Vilniaus miesto kūno, įsiurbiamas į juodąją Visatos subinės kiaurymę. Vargalio sąmonėje tarpo per daug sudė- tingų, prieštaringų, intelektualių, interteks- tualių balsų, kurie užvaldė herojų ir galuti- nai nulėmė šizofreniškos būties diagnozę. Čia galima koreliacija su postkolonialistiniu būviu. Artūras Sverdiolas taip identifikuoja jo problematiką: daugybė kultūrinės in- formacijos buvusį sovietinio mentaliteto bendrasavininkį pasiekė per greitai, be išsamesnio konteksto – jam sunku deramai suvokti bei įvertinti tokį polifonišką srautą I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 187 (2006, p. 96–99). Darytina svarbi išvada: sąmonės daugiabalsiškumas savaime neim- plikuoja pilnaverčio būties dialogiškumo. Neradęs savojo balso, subjektas pasmerktas plūduriuoti svetimų ištarų polifonijoje. Kita vertus, dialogiškas autentiškos būties stei- ginys – sudėtingas uždavinys net ir sveikos sąmonės subjektui. Tikrosios egzistencijos siekimas – nuolatinis laviravimas ant plono dichotomiško būties-nebūties, esmo-niekio liūno: „Paukščiai dingo, o aš pamaži praran- du savo dvasią, imu virsti kažkuo kitu. Net smalsu, kas yra tasai kitas? Žvėris ar de- monas? Beprotis? Tamsybių pasiuntinys?“ (Gavelis 1990, p. 61). Išvados Autentiška būtis yra dialogiška – daugia- balsiška, atvira pati sau bei Kitam, nuolat polemizuojanti ir kvestionuojanti pasaulio duotybes. Neautentiška egzistencija yra monologiška – vienabalsiškos solipsistinės tikrovės imitacija. Tikrosios egzistencijos steiginio problemiškumą Vilniaus pokeryje iliustruoja postmodernistinė kūrinio sąranga ir postkolonialaus būvio raiška. Autentiškos būties galimumą romane pagrindžia moder- nistinė-dekonstrukcinė kūrinio koncepcija. Monologiška-neautentiška esatis būdinga dviems Vilniaus pokerio egzistenciniams potipiams: hominis sovietici ir hominis li- thuanici. Hominis sovietici esatis yra mono- logiškesnė. Hominis sovietici egzistencijos monologiškumą lemia: kolektyvinis būvis, individualumo negacija, kritiško mąstymo, introspekcijos ir refleksijos nebuvimas. Hominis lithuanici būties monologiškumą formuoja: tyliojo maišto idėja, prisitaikė- liškumas, baimė, nepasitenkinimas kon- formistinio būvio stoka. Egzistencialistinis Vilniaus pokerio per skaitymas leidžia daryti prielaidą, kad greta postkolonialinio būvio dekonstrukcijos romane atkoduotina pla- tesnė – ontologinė dimensija. Ryškiausias autentiškos būties steiginys būdingas Vytau- tui Vargaliui ir Gediminui Riaubai. Vytauto Vargalio būties dialogiškumas steigiamas per kovotojo, emocionalaus maištininko, Jų sistemos dekonstruotojo tapatybę, ribinės situacijos potyrį, egzistencijos absurdo, nebylojančios kalbos įsisąmoninimą. Au- tentiškos pasakotojo būties steiginys – su- dėtinis, sudarytas iš juslių (kvapo), garsų, kūno, ištaros dialogiškumo. Sąmonės dau- giabalsiškumas neimplikuoja pilnaverčio būties dialogiškumo. Neradęs savojo balso, subjektas pasmerktas plūduriuoti svetimų ištarų polifonijoje. Sėkmingai veikėjo dia- logiškos egzistencijos realizacijai sutrukdo lagerio sulaužyta tapatybė, monologiškas aplinkinis pasaulis, serganti sąmonė, kal- binė neišreiškiamybė. L. Buividavičiūtė. EGZISTENCIJOS TIPAI RIČARDO GAVELIO ROMANE „VILNIAUS POKERIS” 188 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Literatūra BACHTIN, M., 1996. Dostojevskio poetikos problemos II. Vilnius: Baltos lankos. BARANOVA, J., 2006. Filosofija ir literatūra: priešpriešos, paralelės, sankirtos. Vilnius: Tyto alba. BUBER, M., 2001. Dialogo principas II. Vilnius: Katalikų pasaulis. RUBAVIČIUS,V., 2007. Įminklintas. In: Bliuzas Ričardui Gaveliui. Vilnius: Tyto alba. GAVELIS, R., 1990. Vilniaus pokeris. Vilnius: Vaga. HEIDEGERIS, M., 1992. Rinktiniai raštai. Vilnius: Mintis. KIERKEGAARD, S., 1997. Liga mirčiai. Vilnius: Aidai. KRISTEVA, J., 2003. Maišto prasmė ir beprasmybė: psichoanalizės galios ir ribos I. Vilnius: Charibdė. SVERDIOLAS, A., 2006. Apie pamėklinę būtį. Vilnius: Baltos lankos. Lina Buividavičiūtė Vilnius University, Lithuania Research interests: hermeneutics, modernism, postmodernism, existentialism TYPES OF EXISTENCE IN THE ROMANCE VILNIUS POKER BY RIČARDAS GAVELIS Summary The reception of Ričardas Gavelis’s works still remains problematic. The conception of the au- thor’s novels is controversial, balancing between theories of modernism and postmodernism. This article focuses on one of Gavelis’s most signifi- cant novels, Vilnius poker. The analysis is based on the assumption that the postmodern structure hides the modern conception of the novel. The aims of the article are to actualize a modern- postmodern poetics and to analyze the types of existence in the romance. The possibilities of an authentic existence are analyzed in contrast to the monological, postcolonialistic “broken human being”. The analysis of the concept of authentic being is based on the philosophies of Heidegger and Kierkegaard. The concepts of dialogical and monological being are based on the works of Bakhtin and Buber. The article is based on her- meneutic methodology and the theory of dialogue. The concept of authentic being is analyzed in the context of existentialism. In the theoretical part, the author describes the problems of authentic dialogical being in general, and analyses the context of existentialism and the differences between dialogue and monologue. In the first practical part, the types of the monological being in Vilnius poker are analyzed. In the second Lina Buividavičiūtė Uniwersytet Wileński, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: hermeneutyka, modernizm, postmodernizm, egzystencjalizm TYPY EGZYSTENCJI W POWIEŚCI RIČAR- DASA GAVELISA VILNIAUS POKERIS Streszczenie Odczytanie twórczości Ričardasa Gavelisa w literaturze litewskiej pozostaje kwestią problema- tyczną. Recepcja powieści tego autora jest pełna sprzeczności, balansuje między teoriami moderni- zmu i postmodernizmu. Niniejszy artykuł zawiera analizę jednej z najbardziej znaczących powieści Gavelisa – Vilniaus pokeris (Wileński poker). Ba- danie oparto na założeniu, że postmodernistyczna kompozycja utworu kryje w sobie modernistyczną koncepcję powieści. Celem artykułu jest aktu- alizacja postmodernistyczno-modernistycznej poetyki utworu oraz wyodrębnienie i analiza typów egzystencji występujących w powieści. Postkolonialny byt złamanego człowieka jest w badaniu przeciwstawiany dążeniu do egzystencji autentycznej i możliwością takiej egzystencji. Poję- cie bytu autentycznego jest w artykule analizowane w odniesieniu do filozofii Martina Heideggera, Sörena Kierkegaarda i Martina Bubera. Koncep- cja dialogowości narracji nawiązuje do rozważań Michaiła Bachtina. Nasuwa się wniosek, że dominanta znacze- niowa analizowanej powieści ma modernistyczną proweniencję. Dążenie do bytu autentycznego ma w powieści charakter dialogowy, lecz do końca nie- zrealizowany. Dążący do prawdziwej egzystencji gubią się w postmodernistycznej zabawie formą. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 189 one, the concept of authentic being in Vilnius poker is analyzed. The article draws the following conclusions: the authentic being is dialogical, polyphonic, polemic; the non-authentic being is monological- solypsistic-not asking, not polemic, not questioning the secrets of being, and telling only one “truth.” The monological being of the novel Vilnius poker is typical of homo lituanicus and homo sovieti- cus existential characters. The authentic being characterizes the protagonist Vytautas Vargalys. The dialogism of true existence is expressed by rebellious, unmasking being, the polemic with himself, the gifts of the world (inner monologue), and the others (real dialogue). The authentic being of Vytautas Vargalys is created from the senses (smell), bodies (eroticism), speaking, and musi- cal dialogues. Unfortunately, the main character is unable to fully express his authentic being: the monological atmosphere, broken identity, and non-telling language are the main impediments to living a true dialogical life. KEY WORDS: existentialism, postmodernism, postcolonialism, authentic being, deconstruction. dialogism, monologism, polyphony. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: egzystencjalizm, postmodernizm, postkolonializm, dekonstrukcja, byt autentyczny, dialogowość, monologowość, polifoniczność. Gauta 2012 03 30 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 L. Buividavičiūtė. EGZISTENCIJOS TIPAI RIČARDO GAVELIO ROMANE „VILNIAUS POKERIS” 190 Michał Łuczyński Uniwersytet Jagielloński Wydział Filologiczny ul. Gołębia 24, 31–007 Kraków, Polska E-mail: michal.luczynski@uj.edu.pl Zainteresowania naukowe: leksykologia słowiańska, etnolingwistyka, lingwistyka kul- turowa, historia CZESKO-POLSKIE STOSUNKI JĘZYKOWE W ZAKRESIE SŁOWNICTWA KULTURY DUCHOWEJ (PRZESZŁOŚĆ I STAN OBECNY) Dynamiczne przemiany w zakresie leksyki kulturowej zachodziły zarówno w dialektach w obrębie prasłowiańszczyzny, jak i starszych kontaktów wewnątrzsłowiańskich już na gruncie poszczególnych języków narodowych. Przykładem drugiego typu są niejednokrotnie złożone drogi wędrówki nazw mitologicznych, jakich obraz wyłania się z badań wewnątrzsłowiańskich zapożyczeń. Tematem artykułu jest rola języka czeskiego w kształtowaniu się polskiego słow- nictwa religijnego i demonologicznego. Autor omawia to zagadnienie na podstawie analizy leksyki z grupy tematycznej ‘wierzenia i religia’, zaklasyfikowanej jako bohemizmy, w tym: staropolskich – anjoł, diabeł; oraz polskich dialektalnych: antyjasz, cwerg, czechman, dias, fajermon, jaroszek, korfanty, raraszek, sotona, waserman i zazrak. Zapożyczenia te dotyczą przede wszystkim nazw istot demonicznych niższego rzędu i stanowią na ogół eufemistyczne określenia ‘złego ducha’. Ich analiza pod kątem geografii lingwistycznej wskazuje na głównie południowo-zachodni zasięg występowania zapożyczeń z czeskiego w obrębie nazw demo- nicznych (powiaty katowicki, opolski, nowosądecki) oraz ich niejednokrotnie ściśle regio- nalny (czasami nawet jednostkowy) charakter. Język czeski pełnił tu rolę języka-pośrednika w adaptowaniu zapożyczeń z innych języków (w tym z niemieckiego, greki i łaciny), przez co znacząco wpływał na współczesne zróżnicowanie polskiej ludowej leksyki mitologicznej. Tematyka referatu wiąże się z etniczną klasyfikacją słowiańskiego słownictwa mitologiczne- go oraz z problematyką wzajemnych wpływów słowiańsko-słowiańskich w obrębie tej samej grupy językowej. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: leksykologia, zapożyczenia, słownictwo religijne, język polski. Wyrazy zapożyczone stanowią niezwykle ciekawy rozdział historii języka jako wynik wpływów postronnych na dany język, pozo- stają w ścisłej zależności od pozostawania etnosu w relacjach z kulturami innych narodów. Wymianie dóbr duchowych i materialnych towarzyszy między nimi przesiąkanie do języka elementów obcych, co w szczególny odnosi się do wielowieko- wych kontaktów czesko-polskich, w tym zwłaszcza dotyczących kultury duchowej i wierzeń. Badając zapożyczenia leksykalne, odkrywamy właściwie historię wzajemnych kontaktów kulturowych, jakie powodowały transmisję niektórych treści z jednej kultury do drugiej, i – co za tym idzie – poszerzanie się zasobu słownictwa języka-odbiorcy w toku wielowiekowego rozwoju. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 191 Dynamiczne przemiany w zakresie leksyki kulturowej zachodziły oczywiście zarówno już w dialektach w obrębie pra- słowiańszczyzny, jak i starszych kontaktów wewnątrzsłowiańskich, na gruncie poszcze- gólnych języków narodowych. Przykładem drugiego typu zapożyczeń leksykalnych są wzajemne (wewnątrzsłowiańskich) za- pożyczenia nazw pojęć z zakresu kultury duchowej, w tym zwłaszcza terminologia religijna oraz nazwy własne i potoczne postaci mitologicznych (głównie demonicz- nych i półdemonicznych). Właściwe dla tego drugiego typu zapo- życzeń są wpływy czeskie1 na słownictwo i terminologię polską, dotyczącą w szcze- gólności wierzeń religijnych i demonolo- gicznych. Ponieważ rola czeszczyzny w kształtowaniu się polskiego słownictwa religijnego i mitologicznego (por. Dźwigoł 2004; Зайцева 1975; Санникова 1986) nie stała się, jak dotąd, przedmiotem osobnego opracowania – tematyka ta pojawia się na marginesie istniejących prac na temat historii języka polskiego czy leksyki mi- tologicznej języka czeskiego lub polskie- go – niniejszy rekonesans tej problematyki ma na celu wypełnienie luki w literaturze naukowej na ten temat. Do najstarszych zapożyczeń w języku polskim należy terminologia chrześci- jańska, która przedostaje się do języka staropolskiego po chrzcie Polski właśnie z czeszczyzny, choć wpływy kulturowe chrześcijaństwa – zdaniem niektórych ba- daczy – mogły zachodzić już pod koniec IX wieku na Śląsku i na ziemi Wiślan, chociaż niewątpliwe wpływy datują się na 1 Wpływom języka czeskiego na literacką pol- szczyznę poświęconych jest wiele prac, m.in. Dunaj 1977; Malicki 2006; Orłoś 1980; Reczek 1968; Siat- kowski 1996; Urbańczyk 1946. przełom X i XI wieku2. Zapożyczenia te przenikały do staropolszczyzny w okresie po wprowadzeniu chrześcijaństwa oraz w XVI wieku i były to wpływy okresowo bardzo intensywne. Pierwsza faza zapoży- czeń z czeskiego, która dotarła do Polski po chrystianizacji (a zapewne na krótko przed nią), przyniosła nową terminologię religijną (taką jak nazewnictwo obrzędów, instytucji kościelnych i in.). Wzajemne czesko-polskie wpływy językowe od najdawniejszych czasów uza- leżnione były od warunków politycznych i kulturalnych. W średniowieczu czeski był dla polskiego jednym z głównych źródeł zapożyczeń językowych głównie ze wzglę- du na polityczne, prozachodnie aspiracje Polski. Na tym wczesnym etapie wpływ czeszczyzny na polszczyznę wyrażał się przede wszystkim w pośrednictwie w przyjmowaniu wyrazów łacińskich – ter- minologii chrześcijańskiej; w ten sposób wczesnopolskie słownictwo religijne wzbogacało się w drodze zapożyczeń lek- sykalnych3, a także przez przejmowanie neologizmów semantycznych4. Rodowód większości tych terminów sięga genezą greki, tłumaczonej na łacinę. Do Polski za- sadnicza część owego słownictwa docierała za pośrednictwem Czech, gdzie krzyżowały się wcześniej wpływy zachodnioeuropej- 2 Stieber 1956, s. 113. Również Jarosław Malicki (2006, s. 281) uważa X–XI w. za okres intensyfikacji wzajemnych kontaktów, szczególnie obecnych na zie- miach pogranicza, gdzie docierać mogły, obok innowa- cji prapolskich, również językowe innowacje pracze- skie. 3 Np. kościół, z łac. castellum, za pośrednictwem czeskiego kostel; opat, z łac. abbate, za pośrednictwem czes. opat; czy poganin, z łac. paganus, za pośredni- ctwem czeskiego pohan; i in. 4 Np. rozszerzenie znaczeń słownictwa rodzimego o znaczenia chrześcijańskie: psł. *svętъ > sczes. svaty > spol. święty, pod wpływem semantyki łac. sanctus ‘święty’ (pierwotne znaczenie: ‘silny, mocny’). M. Łuczyński. CZESKO-POLSKIE STOSUNKI JĘZYKOWE W ZAKRESIE SŁOWNICTWA... 192 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA skie i słowiańskie. Dużą rolę odgrywała tu także niemczyzna jako język-nośnik pożyczek łacińskich. Czeszczyzna z kolei odgrywała ważną rolę jako język-pośrednik w przekazywaniu nie tylko łacińskich, ale też niemieckich elementów językowych. Jednym z zapożyczeń datujących się na tę fazę jest leksem anioł. Słownik staropol- ski notuje formy: anjoł, anjeł, plur. anjeli5. Uważa się, że staropolskie anjoł pochodzi ze staroczeskiego anjeł, anjel (jeszcze sprzed przejściem j w d’ w nowoczeskim), ponie- waż w staropolszczyźnie wskutek szkolnej wymowy łaciny -ge- wymawiano jak -je-, a -gi- jako -ji-; zatem w staropolskim notuje- my również formy: angioł (XV w.), angieli (XIV/XV w.), angieł (XIV w.), angołowi, angele boży (XVI w.; Bańkowski 2000, s. 12). Źródłem ostatecznym zapożyczenia było łac. angelus (co z gr. angelos ‘posłan- nik, poseł’). Znaczenie leksykalne gr. ange- los to ‘zwiastun’, od angellen ‘zwiastować/ ogłaszać’ (w Biblii ‘posłaniec Boży’). Po- dobnie spol. diabeł zostało zapożyczone ze staroczeskiego: Słownik staropolski rejestru- je warianty: dyjabeł, dyjaboł, plur. diabli, dyjabli; SGP (V 503) notuje formę diabeł na całym obszarze Polski w znaczeniu ‘złego ducha’. Jest to zapożyczenie grecko- -łacińskie; ostatecznym źródłem wyrazu jest greckie diabolos ‘oszczerca, potwarca’, wtórnie ‘uosobienie zła; przeciwnik Boga’ (Dźwigoł 2004, s. 89nn.). Ponowny wzrost roli wpływu czeskie- go na język polski następuje w 2. połowie XIV w., w okresie wielkiego rozkwitu kul- tury czeskiej i początków rozkwitu kultury polskiej6. Wtedy też rozpoczyna się szeroko 5 Cytowany materiał leksykalny pochodzi z ISłStp i SGP. 6 Na aspekt geograficzny tego procesu zwracał uwagę m.in. Stanisław Rospond (1959), pisząc, że do- zakrojona akcja sprowadzania rękopisów czeskich do Polski przez organizację kościelną, a ich tłumaczenie intensyfikuje wpływ czeskiego w Polsce drogą pisma, przez co ilość bohemizmów wzrasta, po czym nasilenie tych wpływów nieco spada w epoce Renesansu. Z tej fazy notuje się kilka zapożyczonych nazw należących do sfery demonologii chrześcijańskiej. Jedną z nich jest leksem korfanty – jest to nazwa eufemistyczna diabła, zapożyczona w XVI wieku z czeskiego kornifel, kornyfel, kontrfel ‘diabeł rogaty’ (co z łac. cornifer ‘rogaty’; Dźwigoł 2004, s. 100). Drugą – tatrman. Dla staropolskiego tat(a)rman, plur. tetrmani ‘diabły, demony’ (XV w.), a także gwarowego śląskiego (notowanego na Zaolziu) tatermaczek jako nazwy ‘demona wodnego, topielca’, źródłem zapożycze- nia było staroczeskie tatrman (z XIV w.) ‘bożek, demon’, ‘idol’ (XV–XVI w.), co z kolei wywodzi się prawdopodobnie od niemieckiego Tattermann ‘zły duch, dia- beł’. W Słowniku staropolskim znajdujemy jeszcze inną eufemistyczną nazwę ‘złego ducha’: dyjas, dias; SGP V 532 ma formy: dias, djos, plur. djasi/diasi w znaczeniu ‘zły duch, szatan, diabeł’. Współcześnie wzajemne wpływy języ- kowe można obserwować na dwu płasz- czyznach: 1) w gwarach na pograniczach, gdzie bezpośrednio stykają się ze sobą gwary polskie i czeskie; 2) w języku litera- ckim, przechowujących pamięć wpływów historycznych, datujących się nieraz ze średniowiecza. Mówiąc o geograficznym rozmieszczeniu zapożyczeń czeskich w polskich dialektach, Janusz Siatkowski piero na przełomie XIV i XV w., a zwłaszcza od XV w. zaistniały odpowiednie warunki kulturowe i piśmien- nicze, które umożliwiły szeroki dostęp do czechizmów w piśmiennictwie staropolskim i również starośląskim. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 193 zwraca uwagę, iż „czesko-polskie kontakty językowe, bardzo bogate w przeszłości, współcześnie ograniczają się do bezpo- średniej interferencji językowej w gwarach czeskich na terenie Polski” (Siatkowski 1996, s. 185). Ma to duże znaczenie dla stratyfikacji geograficznej omawianych w dalszej części pracy zapożyczeń czeskich w dialektach polskich (w tym w dialek- tach przejściowych), z których część ma izolowany charakter bądź występuje jed- nostkowo. Znaczna część analizowanych bohe- mizmów gwarowych dotyczy eufemi- stycznych określeń ‘złego ducha’. Jedną z takich nazw jest antyjasz. SGP notuje formę dialektalną: antyjasz, ancyjos z powiatu limanowskiego. Jest to najprawdopodobniej zapożyczenie z czeskiego dialektalnego (morawskiego) anciáš (euf.) ‘określenie antychrysta, diabła’ (wywodzące się z czes. ancikrist; SGP I 140; Dźwigoł 2004, s. 98). Podobnie polskie gwarowe czech- man – formy czechmón, čehmůn ‘diabeł, zły duch, skarbnik’ – występują w gwarach przede wszystkim powiatu cieszyńskiego, ale też rybnickiego i głubczewskiego. Jest to pożyczka z czeskiego čechman ‘zły duch’ (SGP V 48; Dźwigoł 2004, s. 132). Inną odnotowaną nazwą odnoszącą się do świata demonów jest polskie dialektalne sotona ‘rodzaj zmory, złego ducha’, odno- towana w gwarach Śląska opolskiego. Jest to pożyczka z czes. sotona ‘t.s.’ (kontynuu- jącego scz. sotona, co z kolei ze scs. sotona < gr. satanãs < aram. sāṭānā; Dźwigoł 2004, s. 62; por. Moszyński 1991, s. 169; 1996, s. 248). O ile wymienione leksemy funkcjonują jako eufemizmy, chroniące tabuizowaną nazwę diabeł, zwłaszcza we frazeologizmach, czy jako ekspresywi- zmy, kilka innych wiąże się bezpośrednio z wierzeniami demonologicznymi: należy do nich zazrak – gwarowa nazwa ‘złego ducha’, notowana w powiecie cieszyńskim, zapożyczona z czeskiego zázrak (Dźwigoł 2004, s. 133); oraz prawdopodobnie polskie dialektalne b’inek. Polską nazwę binek (b’inek) ‘zły duch na usługach czarownic’ rejestruje jedynie słownik gwary Kocie- wia (SGP II 221). Renata Dźwigoł (2004, s. 136) uważa ten wyraz za etymologicznie niejasny. Tymczasem wydaje się, iż praw- dopodobnym źródłem zapożyczenia jest tu czeskie (morawskie) dialektalne kubínek ‘nazwa skrzata; kubíček’ (Kott 1910, s. 46), w którym nastąpił zanik początkowego ku-, co być może miało motywację w postaci tabu językowego. Zagadkowe jest jednak izolowane występowanie tego wyrazu w gwarze oddalonej od kręgu bezpośrednich oddziaływań dialektów czeskich – zatem prawdopodobnie możliwe jest jeszcze inne rozwiązanie etymologii tej nazwy, bez na- wiązań do czeszczyzny. Osobną grupę bohemizmów stanowią nazwy odnoszące się do demonologii domowej. Polskie gwarowe cwerg, cferk (plur. cfergi, sfergi) ‘krasnoludek’ wystę- powały w gwarach powiatów strzeleckiego, opolskiego, cieszyńskiego i lubelskiego. Jest to pożyczka z czeskiego cvergl (por. też pol. dial. cwergiel, cwerglik), które z kolei pochodzi od niemieckiego zwerg ‘krasnoludek, karzełek’ (SGP IV 560; SGŚ V 169–170). Innymi nazwami należącymi do tej grupy tematycznej są: jaroszek – jako nazwę diabła domowego formę jaroszek, plur. jaroszki notują gwary śląskie z powia- tu cieszyńskiego; jest to pożyczka z czes. jarášek. Podobnie raraszek, spieszczona nazwa diabła, notowana na Śląsku, a za- M. Łuczyński. CZESKO-POLSKIE STOSUNKI JĘZYKOWE W ZAKRESIE SŁOWNICTWA... 194 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA pożyczona z czes. rarach, raroch, rarášek, radášek (Dźwigoł 2004, s. 27, 132). Inne nazwy, będące w analizowanej grupie słownictwa bohemizmami, stano- wią kolejno określenia związane z ludową demonologią wodną. Nazwy: haserman, hasterman, hastrman wraz z wariantami no- tują gwary śląskie w powiecie cieszyńskim; formę hasermonk zanotowano w powiecie raciborskim. Jest to pożyczka z czeskiego lub z wprost niemieckiego wassermann ‘de- mon wodny, wodnik’. Inna nazwa – mužík (w złożeniu červony mužík) w znaczeniu ‘topielec, demon wodny’ – zanotowana została jednostkowo na Zaolziu. Źródłem zapożyczenia było tu czeskie mužík, wcho- dzące w skład nazwań demonów różnego typu, jak wodnik, krasnoludek itd. (Dźwigoł 2004, s. 169, 175). W mniejszym stopniu reprezentowane były nazwy odnoszące się do demonolo- gii podziemnej: fontana – dla tej nazwy ducha kopalni/skarbnika, notowanej na Śląsku (Podgórscy 2000, s. 159; Зайцева 1975, s. 12), źródłem zapożyczenia było czeskie dialektalne fontana ‘podziemny duch, pomagający górnikom’, zanotowane w regionie ostrawsko-karwińskim. Inną nazwę ducha kopalni, skarbnika – Pustecki, Pustacki – notowaną w gwarach śląskich, zapożyczono z czeskiego Pustecký ‘t.s.’ (Podgórscy 2000, s. 319–230; Зайцева, op. cit.). W badanym materiale leksykalnym stwierdzono również występowanie formy: fajermon – notuje ją w znaczeniu ‘demon, duch pokutujący w postaci zjawy’ tylko SGP w powiecie cieszyńskim i na Śląsku (SGP VII 395); a także kuźlak/kuzlíř (od czeskiego dial. kouzelňik ‘przepowiadacz, wróż’, co z czes. literackiego kouzelník ‘t.s.’ – por. Bachmannová 1998, s. 150) oraz wiestnica – odnoszące się do mitologizowa- nych przedstawicieli instytucji związanych z czarownictwem, uprawianiem magii itd.7 Podsumowując można więc stwierdzić, że omawiane zapożyczenia dotyczą przede wszystkim nazw istot demonicznych niższe- go rzędu i stanowią na ogół eufemistyczne określenia ‘złego ducha’ (antyjasz, b’inek, czechman, diabeł, dias, jaroszek, korfanty, raraszek, tatrman, zazrak), w mniejszym zaś stopniu nazwy zapożyczone wchodzą w skład istot innego rodzaju – duchów domo- wych (cwerg), wodnych (hastrman, mužík) czy podziemnych (Fontana, Pustecki) i in. Analiza tych zapożyczeń z czeskiego wskazuje głównie na południowo-zachodni zasięg ich występowania w obrębie gwa- rowych nazw demonicznych (powiaty katowicki, opolski, nowosądecki) oraz niejednokrotnie ich ściśle regionalny (czasami nawet jednostkowy) charakter. Są wśród nich nazwy, których źródłem był język czeski, jak te, w przekazywaniu których czeszczyzna pełniła jedynie rolę języka-pośrednika – dotyczy to wszelkich zapożyczeń z niemieckiego, greki i łaciny. Można więc powiedzieć, że rola czeskie- go w adaptowaniu zapożyczeń z innych języków była znacząca, przez co istotnie wpływała na współczesne zróżnicowanie i bogactwo polskiej leksyki mitologicznej. Podsumowując można w tej grupie lek- syki wyróżnić zarówno zapożyczenia stare, o charakterze „książkowym”, datujące się na okres wczesnego średniowiecza (anjoł, diabeł), zapożyczenia okresu „średniego”, odzwierciedlające rosnący wpływ kultu- ralny czeszczyzny w dobie renesansu (kor- fanty, tatrman, dias), a także zapożyczenia stosunkowo nowe, obserwowane w mate- 7 Formy te cytują Зайцева 1975; Санникова 1986, c. 10. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 195 riale gwarowym dopiero w XX wieku (tu należą: antyjasz, haserman i szereg innych). Należy podkreślić, że niektóre z najwcześ- niejszych pożyczek funkcjonują w gwarach do dziś, są też produktywne we frazeologii lub występują jako ekspresywizmy (por. np. zwroty typu „do diaska/diabła” itd.). Można powiedzieć, że czeszczyzna w dużej mierze uformowała nie tylko zasób słownictwa tej grupy tematycznej, ale również typowe zwroty i frazeologizmy, funkcjonujące w polszczyźnie (także tej literackiej) do dziś, choć niewiele użytkowników języka zdaje sobie na co dzień sprawę z ich pochodzenia. To nie tylko objaw wzajemnych wpływów językowych czesko-polskich, ale także zapis wspólnej, kilkusetletniej historii wza- jemnych kontaktów kulturowych. Wydaje się, że problematyka zapożyczeń czeskich w polskim ludowym słownictwie mitolo- gicznym wiąże się nie tylko ze stratyfikacją słowiańskiego słownictwa gwarowego oraz z wzajemnymi wpływami leksykalnymi w obrębie tej samej grupy językowej, ale również z badaniami polskiego językowego obrazu świata, którego istotny fragment współtworzą nazwy i pojęcia przejęte od czeskich sąsiadów. Wykaz skrótów ISłStp – Indeksy do Słownika staropolskiego. 2007. Red. M. EDER, W. TWARDZIK. Kraków: Instytut Języka Polskiego PAN. SGP – Słownik gwar polskich. Wrocław–Kra- ków 1982–. SGŚ – Słownik gwar śląskich. 2004. Red. B. WYDERKA. Opole. T. V. Bibliografia BACHMANNOVÁ, J., 1998. Podkrkonošský slovník. Praha. BAŃKOWSKI, A., 2000. Etymologiczny słow- nik języka polskiego. T. I. Warszawa. dunaj, B., 1977. Zapożyczenia czeskie w polszczyźnie XII–XIII wieku. Zeszyty Naukowe Uniwersytetu Jagiellońskiego, 52, 27–38; DŹWIGOŁ, R., 2004. Polskie ludowe słowni- ctwo mitologiczne. Kraków. Indeksy do Słownika staropolskiego. 2007. Red. M. EDER, W. TWARDZIK. Kraków. Kott, F. Š., 1910. Dodatky k Bartošovu Dia- lektickemu Slovníku Moravskému. Praha. malicKi, J., 2006. Język polski i język czeski na południowej rubieży Dolnego Śląska w wiekach średnich. Rozprawy Komisji Językowej WTN, nr 33, 281–287. MOSZYŃSKI, L., 1991. Prasłowiańskie duchy w oczach slawisty-filologa. Acta Universitatis Ni- colai Copernici. Filologia polska XXXVI – Nauki Humanistyczno-Społeczne, z. 230, 149–170. MOSZYŃSKI, L., 1996. Terminologia religij- na Zabytków Fryzyjskich – najstarsza znana ter- minologia religijna Słowian. In: Zbornik Brižinski spomeniki. Ljubljana, 245–251. ORŁOŚ, T. Z., 1980. Polsko-czeskie związki językowe. Wrocław. podgÓrscy, B. i A., 2000. Encyklopedia demonów. Warszawa. recZeK, J., 1968. Bohemizmy leksykalne w języku polskim do końca XV wieku: wybrane zagadnienia. Wrocław. rospond, S., 1959. Dzieje polszczyzny śląskiej. Katowice. siatKowsKi, J., 1996. Czesko-polskie kon- takty językowe. Warszawa. Słownik gwar polskich. 1982–. T. I–, Wroc- ław–Kraków. Słownik gwar śląskich. 2004. Red. B. WY- DERKA. T. V. Opole. stieber, Z., 1956. Z dziejów powstawania języków narodowych i literackich. Warszawa. URBAŃCZYK, S., 1946. Z dawnych stosun- ków językowych polsko-czeskich. Kraków. ЗАЙЦЕВА, Н. И., 1975. Мифологическая лексика в чешском и словацком языках. Минск. САННИКОВА, О. В., 1986. Польская демо- нологическая лексика в этнолингвистическом и сравнительно-историческим освещении. Москва. M. Łuczyński. CZESKO-POLSKIE STOSUNKI JĘZYKOWE W ZAKRESIE SŁOWNICTWA... 196 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Michal Luczynski Jagiellonian University in Krakow, Poland Research interests: Slavic lexicology, ethnolin- guistics, history CZECH AND POLISH LINGUISTIC RELA- TIONS IN THE VOCABULARY OF SPIRI- TUAL CULTURE (PAST AND PRESENT) Summary This paper discusses the role of the Czech language in forming Polish vocabulary. The question is pre- sented on the basis of one of the thematic groups of vocabulary, beliefs and religion, classified as Bohemianisms, including such words as Old Pol- ish anioł, diabeł, and tatrman, as well as the Polish dialectal antyjasz, b’inek, cwerg, czechman, dias, fajermon, Fontana, hastrman, jaroszek, korfanty, kuźlak, mužík, Pustecki, raraszek, sotona, szatan, waserman, wiestnica and zazrak. The classification of Czech borrowings in Polish includes three groups. The main groups are: borrow- ings from Old Czech, borrowings from literary Czech from the 14th to the beginning of the 16th centuries, and borrowings from common Czech dialects (es- pecially from a transitional group of dialects). The first and second group contains many international words (borrowings from Greek, Latin and German), while the third appear chiefly in the Polish dialects of Silesia and the Małopolska province. The author notes that the early Old Czech brought Latin borrow- ings from Christian terminology and demonological nomenclature. The 14th and 15th and also 20th cen- turies brought words related to witchcraft and tradi- tional demonology, such as the names of wizards and witches, the devil, ghosts, etc. The author ascertains that, first of all, such loan names concern beings of the lowest demonic ranks and, in general euphemis- tic determination, present “evil ghosts.” Linguistic geographical analysis indicates that Czech loans of demoniac names occur mainly in the south-west and repeatedly exhibit a strictly regional (sometimes individual) character. The Czech language has also fulfilled an intermediary role in adapting borrowings from other languages (German, Greek and Latin); it has thus had a significant effect on modern dispar- ity and Polish mythological vocabulary. This article aims at the ethnic and chronological classification of fragments of Slavic mythological vocabulary, and analyzes the problem of language influence between Czech and Polish. KEY WORDS: lexicology, loanwords, religious vocabulary, Polish language. Michał Łuczyński Jogailaičių universitetas, Krokuva, Lenkija Moksliniai interesai: slavų leksikologija, etno- lingvistika, istorija LINGVISTINIAI ČEKŲ IR LENKŲ KALBŲ SANTYKIAI DVASINĖS KULTŪROS (PRA- EITIES IR DABARTIES) ŽODYNE Santrauka Straipsnyje aptariamas čekų kalbos vaidmuo lenkų kalbos žodyne. Autorius šį klausimą analizuoja per „įsitikinimų ir religijos“ teminę žodyno grupę, įvardijamą kaip bohemizmai. Taip pat nagrinėjami senosios lenkų kalbos žodžiai anioł, diabeł, tatr- man, lenkų dialektizmai antyjasz, b’inek, cwerg, czechman, dias, fajermon, Fontana, hastrman, ja- roszek, korfanty, kuźlak, mužík, Pustecki, raraszek, sotona, szatan, waserman, wiestnica, zazrak. Lenkų kalbos skoliniai čekų kalboje klasifi- kuojami į tris grupes. Tai skoliniai iš: senosios čekų kalbos, literatūrinės kalbos nuo XIV iki XVI a. pr., iš bendrų Čekijos dialektų (ypač iš tarpinių dialektų grupės). Pirmoje ir antroje grupėje yra daug tarptautinių žodžių (skolinių iš graikų, lotynų ir vokiečių), trečioji gausiausia Lenkijos Silezijos ir Małopolskos provincijų tarmėse. Autorius pažymi, kad ankstyvoji senoji čekų kal- ba iš lotynų kalbos perėmė krikščioniškosios termini- jos ir demonologijos terminologijos skolinius; XIV ir XV, taip pat XX amžių žodžiai susiję su raganavimu ir tradicine demonologija (burtininkų ir raganų, vel- nių, vaiduoklių vardai ir pan.). Nustatyta, kad, visų pirma, tai susiję su žemiausiojo sluoksnio demoniškų būtybių skolinių vardais ir bendrais šiuolaikiniais eufemistiniais „blogio šmėklų“ apibūdinimais. Analizė parodė, kad atsižvelgus į lingvistinę geografiją, pietvakarių srityje daugiausia demoni- nių skolinių pavadinimų atsirado iš čekų kalbos, jie pasižymi regioniniu (kartais individualiu) pobūdžiu. Čekų kalba atliko kalbos-tarpininkės vaidmenį pritaikant lenkų kalboje skolinius iš kitų kalbų (vokiečių, graikų ir lotynų). Tai nulėmė šiuolaikinius lenkų kalbos mitologinio žodyno bruožus ir išteklius. Straipsnio tikslas – pateikti etninę ir chronologinę slavų mitologinio žodyno fragmento klasifikaciją ir išanalizuoti čekų ir lenkų kalbų santykio problematiką. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: onomastika, skoli- niai, religinis žodynas, lenkų kalba. Gauta 2012 05 02 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 197 Anna Korycka Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach Instytut Filologii Polskiej ul. Leśna 16, 25–509 Kielce, Polska Tel.: +48 41 349 71 20, +48 69 663 38 97 E-mail: annakorycka@onet.pl Zainteresowania naukowe: polszczyzna kresowa, etnolingwistyka, folklor ANALIZA WYBRANYCH CECH FONETYCZNYCH I MORFOLOGICZNYCH WYSTĘPUJĄCYCH W POLSKICH PIEŚNIACH LUDOWYCH Z WILEŃSZCZYZNY Artykuł jest poświęcony analizie wybranych cech fonetycznych i morfologicznych, które wystę- pują w materiale polskiego folkloru pieśniowego Wileńszczyzny. Ekscerpcja pieśni prowadzona była pod kątem zawartości materiału kresowego. Przykłady wyekscerpowano z tekstów „Pieśni Wileńszczyzny” wydanych przez Jana Mincewicza, materiałów pozyskanych z Archiwum In- stytutu Literatury Litewskiej i Folkloru w Wilnie oraz z nagrań własnych autorki. W oparciu o publikacje dialektologiczne (Turska, Kurzowa, Grek-Pabisowa, Sawaniewska-Mochowa, Rieger i inne) zbadano występowanie cech specyficznych dla polszczyzny północnokresowej w polskich pieśniach ludowych Wileńszczyzny. W pierwszej części poddano analizie cechy fonetyczne z zakresu wokalizmu (akanie, pochy- lenie nieakcentowanego e, tj. jego podwyższenie i zwężenie do samogłoski i/y, odnosowienie ą w wygłosie, zjawisko labializacji o w wygłosie) i konsonantyzmu, m.in. s’liedzikowanie i mieszanie spółgłosek szumiących (š, ž, č), szumiących palatalnych (š’, ž’, č’), ciszących (ś, ź, ć) i syczących (s, z, c). Natomiast druga część artykułu zawiera analizę zjawisk morfologicznych (fleksyjnych i słowotwórczych) występujących w polskich pieśniach ludowych, znanych i śpiewanych na Wileńszczyźnie. Omówione zostało zjawisko zmiany rodzaju gramatycznego rzeczownika, osobliwości występujące w odmianie czasownika oraz występowanie sufiksa -uk. Konkludując – na podstawie analizy fonetyki i morfologii można stwierdzić, że język polskich pieśni ludowych, znanych i śpiewanych na Wileńszczyźnie, zachował wiele cech gwarowych, właściwych dla dialektu północnokresowego. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: pieśń ludowa, fonetyka, fleksja, słowotwórstwo, dialekt kresowy, Wileńszczyzna. Język Kresów Północno-Wschodnich do- czekał się już wielu opracowań, szczególnie w ciągu ostatnich kilkunastu lat. Świadczyć o tym może chociażby obszerna bibliogra- fia dotycząca tematu, sporządzona przez Zofię Sawaniewską-Mochową (Sawaniew- ska-Mochowa 1991, s. 223–254; 1995, s. 265–282). Nie oznacza to jednak, że nie istnieje już potrzeba prowadzenia dalszych badań, wprost przeciwnie. Istnieją bowiem obsza- ry słabo zbadane lub niezbadane w ogóle. „Mimo że problematykę kresową podejmuje się raz po raz w różnych ośrodkach nauko- wych, daleko jeszcze do całościowego obra- zu dialektu, jak również uchwycenia jego 198 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA geograficznych zróżnicowań. Wiele postu- latów formułowanych w ciągu ostatnich dziesięcioleci nadal czeka na realizację” (Kurzowa 1993, s. 13). Do takich obszarów należy język polskich pieśni ludowych z okolic Wileńszczyzny (tu i dalej używam tej nazwy na oznaczenie południowo-wschod- niej części dzisiejszej Republiki Litewskiej z centrum w Wilnie, która do 1939 roku należała do państwa polskiego). Przedmiot badań stanowią teksty zamieszczone w zbiorze Jana Mincewicza „Pieśni Wileń- szczyzny” (Mincewicz 1992), teksty po- zyskane z Archiwum Literatury Litewskiej i Folkloru w Wilnie (Lietuvių literatūros ir tautosakos institutas) oraz własne nagrania autorki, sporządzone podczas eksploracji terenowej (październik – grudzień 2011). Pieśń ludowa na Wileńszczyźnie ma wy- jątkowy charakter. Przez wielu traktowana jest jak skarb narodowy, cenna własność, która służy za lingwistyczny środek wyrazu, za pomocą którego lud werbalizuje swoje doświadczenia. Występowanie określonych cech fo- netycznych i morfologicznych zostanie zobrazowane jedynie kilkoma przykładami, ponieważ przywołanie wszystkich byłoby zbyt obszerne (materiał egzemplifikacyjny liczy ponad 300 tekstów). Pierwsza część artykułu zostanie poświęcona analizie najważniejszych cech fonetycznych, które odbiegają od norm języka ogólnopolskie- go, natomiast w części drugiej zajmę się analizą na poziomie morfologii (fleksji i słowotwórstwa). 1. Cechy fonetyczne 1.1. Cechy fonetyczne w zakresie wokalizmu Cechą najczęściej występującą w tekstach pieśni (biorąc pod uwagę wokalizm) jest akanie, czyli przejście nie akcentowanego e, o i odnosowionego ę, ą w samogłoskę a (Rieger 2006, s. 387–396, Czekman 1975, s. 283–305). Zjawisko akania ma długą tradycję w dialekcie północnokresowym. Dość licznie reprezentowane jest już w do- kumentach z XVII i XVIII stulecia (Kurzo- wa 1993, ss. 86–87). Zachodzi najczęściej w wygłosie, chociaż odnalazłam również nieliczne przykłady akania w nagłosie i śródgłosie (astygnie; dalarami; sakuole; skawronek; swabodzie). Występowanie akania pociąga za sobą konsekwencje w systemie fleksyjnym (rozwinięcie tematu w drugiej części artykułu). Najczęściej w pieś- niach spotykane jest w wygłosie w bierniku liczby pojedynczej rzeczowników żeńskich i ich określeń: w ta strona; w suknia ładna ubrałam sia; ma ładna córeczka; druga sobie pieści; w ta pora; jasna słońca; w szara godzina; tamta rzeka; oraz w 1. osobie liczby pojedynczej czasu teraźniejszego: moga; robia; patrza; prosza; myśla; widza; mówia; pojmuja; wchodza; ida; dziękuja; biora; chca i przyszłego – benda; spojrza; wyjda; stana; siąda. Akanie obejmuje również partykułę nie – nia oraz zaimki: zwrotny się – (udała) sia; wskazujący tę – ta. Natomiast redukcję o>u, czyli tak zwane ukanie, poświadczają tylko dwa przykłady: formy subota oraz tylku. Kolejną charakterystyczną osobliwością wymowy Polaków z Wileńszczyzny jest pochylenie nieakcentowanego e, to jest jego podwyższenie i zwężenie do samogłoski i/y. Zauważalne jest to zwłaszcza w kilku pozycjach morfologicznych, szczególnie w 2. i 3. osobie liczby pojedynczej oraz w 1. osobie liczby mnogiej czasu teraźniejsze- go czasowników koniugacji -ę, -esz, np. pójdzisz; pojedzisz; idzim. Zgromadzony materiał ilustruje również występowanie I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 199 tej cechy w mianowniku i bierniku liczby mnogiej rzeczowników miękkotematowych męskich: te rubli; ludzi pracowali; miała piniędzy. Właściwość ta obecna jest także w partykule i przedrostku nie-: ni ma; ni można. Szeroko rozpowszechnionym w pieś- niach zjawiskiem kresowego wokalizmu jest tendencja do odnosowienia ą w wy- głosie, np. dadzo; płaco; mówio; z mamo. Samogłoska tylna ą, ulegając denazalizacji w wygłosie, przechodzi w o, a samogłoska ę – w e. Proces ten zachodzi najczęściej w 1. osobie liczby pojedynczej i w 3. osobie liczby mnogiej czasowników czasu te- raźniejszego oraz w afiksie się. Obocznie pojawiają się też – choć rzadko – formy z zaznaczoną nosowością w wygłosie, np. rozumieją; uczą się//uczą sia; liczą się. Obok pozycji przed spółgłoskami zwartymi i zwartoszczelinowymi, asynchroniczna wymowa nosówek występowała również przed szczelinowymi, co różnicowało pol- szczyznę północnokresową od polszczyzny ogólnej. Zdaniem Z. Kurzowej sytuacja taka była spowodowana kontaktami polszczyzny północnokresowej z językami ruskimi, w których nosówki nie występują (Kurzowa 1993, s. 81). W tekstach wielu pieśni mamy do czynienia z dyftongiczną, labializowaną wymową głoski o: puo; sakuole; uobej- rzawyszy; uoczki; uojca; uokienka. Turska zauważa w tym zjawisku wpływy języka litewskiego (Turska 1982, s. 112–113). Nie można jednak wykluczyć oddziaływania innych dialektów polskich, ponieważ jest to cecha dość rozpowszechniona na terenie kraju. Jak zauważa B. Greszczuk, występu- je na przykład na Podkarpaciu w gwarze wsi Osobnica (Greszczuk 1997, s. 53–56) oraz w dialektach: śląskim, małopolskim i wielkopolskim. 1.2. Cechy fonetyczne w zakresie konsonantyzmu. Najczęściej spotykaną cechą (występującą w ponad 90% poddanych analizie tekstów) jest tak zwane s’liedzikowanie. Omawiana cecha gwarowa polega na specyficznej formie artykulacji palatalizowanych głosek s, z, c, dz. „Głoski te są wymawiane od środkowojęzykowych ś, ź, ź, dź do przed- niojęzykowych s’, z’, c’, dz’. H. Turska nazwała je głoskami zwartoszczelinowymi przedniojęzykowozębowymi uśrednio- językowionymi” (Grek-Pabisowa 2002, s. 88–89). W pieśniach występuje wiele egzemplifikacji, m.in. s’piewali; chc’eli; z’emia; mamus’a, znal’ez’li. Powszechnym zjawiskiem obserwo- wanym w badanym materiale jest specy- ficzna artykulacja spółgłoski l. Głoska ta niezależnie od pozycji fonetycznej jest wymawiana (wyśpiewywana) z pełną lub lekko zaznaczoną miękkością. Zmiękczenie l’ dokonuje się nie tylko przed samogłos- ką i, ale również przed samogłoską e, a, o, u: l’istki; fol’warku; l’ipa; b’iel’utki; kapel’usz; chl’eba; wiel’e; l’udzi, ml’eka; zemdl’ała. Często występującą cechą (po- wstałą zapewne pod wpływem fonetyki białoruskiej) jest substytucja u:w, poja- wiająca się najczęściej w śródgłosie, np. dziauczyny. W pieśniach śpiewanych na obszarze Wileńszczyzny spotkałam również przedniojęzykowo-zębowe ł oraz dysymila- cję grupy -kt-: chto; chtoż; chtóry; nicht. W gwarach Wileńszczyzny występuje również mieszanie szeregu spółgłosek szumiących (š, ž, č), szumiących palatalnych (š’, ž’, č’), ciszących (ś, ź, ć) i syczących (s, z, c). A. Korycka. ANALIZA WYBRANYCH CECH FONETYCZNYCH I MORFOLOGICZNYCH... 200 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Wahania w zakresie dystrybucji spółgłosek twardych i miękkich Z. Kurzowa postrzega jako „kresowe dialektyzmy uzależnione od białoruskiego podłoża” (Kurzowa 1993, s. 95). Najbardziej reprezentatywne są wa- hania ś i sz – szlub (również formy szlubna oraz szlubowaci); wisznia. Zdaniem I. Ba- jerowej mieszanie spółgłosek występowało zarówno w dawnej polszczyźnie ogólnej, jak i kresowej. Źródła tej osobliwości upatruje w ruskiej proweniencji głoski sz (Bajerowa 1986, s. 124). J. Rieger jednak nie uznaje tej cechy za osobliwość kre- sową, nazywając to zjawisko „rzekomą cechą fonetyczną gwar północnokreso- wych” (Rieger 2006, s. 26). Jest to całkiem prawdopodobne, skoro cecha występuje w gwarach lubawsko-ostródzkich i mal- borskich (por. Dejna 1994: mapa 11; Urbańczyk 1968, s. 217). H. Górnowicz dostrzega ponadto istnienie omawianych cech na Mazurach, w Wieleńskiem i na północnym Śląsku, głównie w wyrazach zapożyczonych z języka niemieckiego (Górnowicz 1963, s. 16–31). Warto również zwrócić uwagę na zja- wisko zaniku spółgłosek nagłosowych i wygłosowych, licznie poświadczone w badanym materiale. Brak nagłosowego h – arbata; istorija; brak nagłosowego n w zaimkach – jej; ich; im; brak ł w wygłosie czasowników i w końcówce imiesłowów na -łszy: odrzek; umar; uszed; jadszy; przy- wiozszy. Jest to cecha języka mówionego, w którym głoski półotwarte (sonorne) tracą dźwięczność w wygłosie i często zanikają. W analizowanym materiale odnaleźć moż- na również kontynuanty é pochylonego. Zjawisko to ma charakter zleksykalizowa- ny, dotyczy tylko nielicznych przypadków: dyszcz; czyrwony; tyż; szyroki. 2. Cechy morfologiczne 2.1. Cechy fleksyjne 2.1.1. Odmiana rzeczowników Akanie w pozycjach morfologicznych wywołuje konsekwencje w pewnych kate- goriach fleksyjnych, co powoduje między innymi zmiany w klasyfikującej kategorii rodzaju. Egzemplifikacje wyekscerpowane z badanego materiału potwierdzają zmianę rodzaju gramatycznego rzeczownika (naj- częściej rzeczowniki rodzaju nijakiego przechodzą do kategorii rodzaju żeńskiego, rzadziej do rodzaju męskiego; natomiast rzeczowniki rodzaju żeńskiego przecho- dzą do kategorii rodzaju męskiego; tylko niekiedy rzeczowniki męskie przechodzą w żeńskie). Istotny wpływ na zmianę rodzaju ma również zachowanie na Wileńszczyźnie dawnych postaci wyrazów o innym niż we współczesnej polszczyźnie ogólnej rodzaju gramatycznym (Grek-Pabisowa, Ostrówka, Biesiadowska 2007, s. 70). Przykłady: na- sza miasteczka; moja życ’a ni s’aka ni taka; moja serca płacza; ta ptaszka; moja wesela. Kolejnym zjawiskiem o znaczącej frekwencji występowania w paradygma- cie rzeczowników w pieśniach z Wileń- szczyzny jest synkretyzm form biernika i mianownika rodzaju żeńskiego liczby pojedynczej, np. w ta strona; w ta pora; w ta minuta ida; mam sukienka taka; szkatułka otwiera. Z. Kurzowa stwierdza występowa- nie tej cechy już w pierwszej połowie XVII wieku i upatruje jej genezę w akaniu, które zostało spowodowane denazalizacją wygło- sowego ę, w konsekwencji czego biernik zrównał się z mianownikiem (Kurzowa 1992, s. 264–265). W odmianie rzeczow- ników męskich natomiast zwracają uwagę I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 201 charakterystyczne dla języka północnokre- sowego formy mianownika liczby mnogiej rzeczowników męskich miękkotematowych z końcówką -i/-y, powstałą w wyniku redukcji i prawdopodobnie w wyniku jed- noczesnego wpływu języka białoruskiego, gdzie końcówka ta jest powszechna w tej pozycji: moje piniędzy; te rubli zmarnowali sia; bardzo byli dobre l’udzi. Jak już za- znaczyłam, regionalne procesy fonetyczne (akanie, denazalizacja samogłoski nosowej w wygłosie, zwężenia samogłosek nieak- centowanych) znajdują odzwierciedlenie na poziomie morfologicznym. Następstwem tych procesów jest występowanie obocz- nie w tym samym paradygmacie dwóch lub więcej końcówek wariantywnych: -am zamiast ogólnopolskiej -em: ostatnim cza- sam; moim koniam; drzewam; gościam; -im zamiast ogólnopolskiej -em: brzegim Wilji; bielutkim mlekim; oraz występowanie -e zamiast ogólnopolskiej -ę: głowe; niedziele; góre; kure. Z innych zjawisk z zakresu deklinacji rzeczowników warto wymienić uogólnianie końcówki -ów w dopełniaczu liczby mno- giej rzeczowników wszystkich rodzajów (a nie tylko w rodzaju męskim rzeczow- ników twardotematowych; Masojć 2001, s. 67–68), np. w rodzaju męskim: dniów; koniów; w rodzaju żeńskim: babów; w rodzaju nijakim: dzieciów. Interesujące są również formy rze- czowników rodzaju nijakiego jajki; zioły wynikające z faktu, iż w mianowniku liczby mnogiej rzeczowników tego rodzaju wystę- puje niekiedy uogólniona końcówka -y (-i), pochodząca z deklinacji męskiej i żeńskiej. H. Karaś jest zdania, że „to specyficznie kresowe zjawisko morfologiczne ma swe źródło w procesach wyrównań analogicz- nych (do twardotematowych masculinów i feminów)” (Karaś 2002, s. 195). 2.1.2. Odmiana czasowników Procesy fonetyczne zachodzące w pol- szczyźnie północnokresowej sprawiły, że w 1. osobie liczby pojedynczej czasu teraźniejszego i przyszłego prostego wy- stępują takie osobliwe końcówki, jak -a, -e, -am, -em: -a pojawia się zamiast ogólnopolskiej końcówki -ę: ida; żyja; mówia; myśla; patrza; siedza; wezma; rozpuszcza; benda; chodza; dziwuja; daruja; dołoża; dosta- na; prosza; przyjada; wynajda; zobacza; przyjda; pójda; chwyca; usłysza; napisza; powróca; -e występuje zamiast ogólnopolskiej końcówki -ę: robie; prosze; mówie; daje; kupie; mogie; -em zamiast ogólnopolskiej -ę: chcem; trzensem sia; -am pojawia się zamiast ogólnopolskiej końcówki -ę: czujam; budzam; mylam; my- ślam; patrzam; chcam; życzam; brzydzam sia. Końcówka -a jest więc wynikiem morfologizacji akania, któremu uległa nie- akcentowana samogłoska -e, powstała na skutek denazalizacji wygłosowej końcówki. W 1. osobie liczby mnogiej czasu te- raźniejszego i przyszłego prostego (oprócz czasowników koniugacji -em, -esz; -am, -asz) występuje końcówka -m, np. zdaim; chodzim; pójdzim; siedzim; ruszym sia; dostaim; idzim; zaniesim; prosim. H. Karaś uważa, że powstanie tej końcówki może być wynikiem „wyrównań analogicznych do paradygmatu III i IV koniugacji” (Ka- raś 2002, s. 213). Wiele egzemplifikacji znajduje występowanie osobowej formy A. Korycka. ANALIZA WYBRANYCH CECH FONETYCZNYCH I MORFOLOGICZNYCH... 202 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA czasownika w funkcji przysłówka – mam tu na myśli formę 3. osoby czasu teraźniej- szego czasownika musieć – musi, która jest używana w funkcji przysłówka w znaczeniu ‘pewnie’, ‘zapewne’. 2.1.3. Słowotwórstwo Sufiksem o największej frekwencji w pieśniach ludowych jest sufiks -ek oraz jego rozszerzone warianty: -uszek, -aczek, -ałek, -aszek, -ączek, -eczek, -iczek, -oszek, -uczek. Za ich pomocą tworzone są for- macje deminutywne o silnym zabarwieniu emocjonalnym. Mają one duże znaczenie w pieśniach ludowych, ponieważ zdrob- nienia są jednym z głównych środków słowotwórczych w folklorze pieśniowym. Podstawowa funkcja to deminutywno- -hipokorystyczna (komunikowanie małości przedmiotu i pozytywnego stosunku do niego). Stosowanie zdrobnień jest jednym z elementów poetyki tekstów folkloru, w tym również pieśni ludowych. Nie dziwi więc fakt ogromnej ilości przykładów od- nalezionych w tekstach. Najczęściej zdrob- nieniu ulegają elementy ubioru: fartuszek (wariantywnie: fartuszeczek); czepeczek i detale świata przyrody: kamuszek (kamu- szeczek); krzaczek; grzybeczek; gaiczek; koniczek. Nierzadkimi deminutiwami są również formy: wianeczek; pierścioneczek; kumoczek; panoczek; kawałeczek; darune- czek czy kijaszek. Omawiając pieśni Wileńszczyzny nie można pominąć form słowotwórczych, two- rzonych za pomocą formantu -uk (-czuk). Formant ten używany jest głównie do two- rzenia zdrobniałych form imion męskich – w tekstach można spotkać formy: Kaziuk oraz Wacuk. Badacze nie są zgodni co do genezy tego sufiksu. Z. Kurzowa dopatruje się jego ruskiej proweniencji, ponieważ „w języku ukraińskim i białoruskim odznacza się dużą produktywnością w tworzeniu deminutywów pospolitych i własnych oraz w nazwach mieszkańców” (Kurzowa 1993, s. 122). H. Karaś twierdzi, że jest on pochodzenia litewsko-ruskiego (Karaś 2002, s. 26), natomiast B. Lindert rozpatruje możliwość ich turecko-tatarskiego pocho- dzenia, gdzie pełniły funkcje strukturalną i deminutywną (Lindert 1972, s. 83). Konkludując – na podstawie analizy fonetyki i morfologii można stwierdzić, że język polskich pieśni ludowych, znanych i śpiewanych na Wileńszczyźnie, zachował wiele cech gwarowych, właściwych dla dialektu północnokresowego. Do charak- terystycznych cech języka należy chwiej- ność dystrybucji końcówek równoległych, rozszerzenie podtypu odmiany na -a, a także zachowanie końcówek archaicznych, w wielu wypadkach podtrzymywanych oddziaływaniem języka białoruskiego i ro- syjskiego. Jak zaznacza Z. Kurzowa, dialekt ów „nie ma tak żywego kontaktu z polskim językiem macierzystym, jak dialekty et- niczne. Geograficzne oddalenie sprawia, że dialekt północny nie utrzymuje tempa rozwoju języka macierzystego, przejawia tempo wolniejsze, zachowuje właściwości, które polszczyzna ogólna dawno zmieniła, a gwary rdzennie polskie wygasają. To stano- wi o jego archaicznych cechach. Oddalenie od języka macierzystego powoduje jednak z drugiej strony, że dialekt zaczyna żyć własnym życiem, przeprowadzać zmiany jakby na własną rękę, nie znane polszczyź- nie ogólnej. To stanowi o innowacyjnych cechach tego dialektu” (Kurzowa 1992, s. 12–13). Analiza tekstów polskich pieśni ludowych śpiewanych na Wileńszczyźnie wykazała obecność zarówno cech archa- I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 203 icznych, jak i innowacyjnych. Do cech archaicznych należy między innymi mie- szanie szeregów: syczącego, szumiącego i ciszącego, utrzymanie się miękkości l przed samogłoskami tylnymi i spółgłoskami oraz zmiany w końcówkach deklinacyjnych rzeczowników. Natomiast do cech innowa- cyjnych należą między innymi następujące zjawiska: akanie, ukanie, s’ledzikowanie, zmiana rodzaju gramatycznego rzeczow- ników, występowanie osobowej formy czasownika w funkcji przysłówka. Bibliografia BAJEROWA, I., 1986. Polski język ogólny XIX w. Stan i ewolucja. T. I. Ortografia, fonologia z fonetyką, morfonologia. Katowice: Uniwersytet Śląski. CZEKMAN, W., 1975. Akanie. Istota zjawiska i jego pochodzenie. Slavia Orientalis, XXIV, z. 3, 283–305. DEJNA, K., 1994. Atlas polskich innowacji dialektalnych. Warszawa–Łódź: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN. GREK-PABISOWA, I., 2002. Współczesne gwary polskie na Litwie i Białorusi. Fonetyka. Warszawa: Slawistyczny Ośrodek Wydawniczy Instytutu Slawistyki PAN. GREK-PABISOWA, I., OSTRÓWKA, M., BIESIADOWSKA, B., 2007. Osobliwości rodzaju gramatycznego polszczyzny północnokresowej. Biuletyn Polskiego Towarzystwa Językoznawczego, LXIII, 61–72. GÓRNOWICZ H., 1963. O gwarach mazurzą- cych, które realizują szereg ciszący jak szumiący palatalny. In: Red. K. DEJNA, S. HRABEC, W. ŚMIECH. Rozprawy Komisji Językowej. T. IX. Łódź: Łódzkie Towarzystwo Naukowe, 15–32. GRESZCZUK, B., 1997. Uwagi o gwarze, nazewnictwie i historii wsi Osobnica w gminie Jasło (część 1). In: Red. T. AMPEL. Z polszczyzny historycznej i współczesnej. Rzeszów: Wydawni- ctwo Wyższej Szkoły Pedagogicznej, 51–62. KARAŚ, H., 2002. Gwary polskie na Kowień- szczyźnie. Warszawa–Puńsk: Aušra. KURZOWA, Z., 1992. O istocie dialektu pół- nocnokresowego. In: Red. E. FELIKSIAK. Wilno – Wileńszczyzna jako krajobraz i środowisko wielu kultur. T. IV. Białystok: Towarzystwo Literackie im. Adama Mickiewicza, 9–18. KURZOWA, Z., 1993. Język polski Wileńszczy- zny i Kresów Północno-Wschodnich XVI–XX w. Warszawa–Kraków: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN. LINDERT, B., 1972. Formanty -(i)uk, čuk w ję- zykach wschodniosłowiańskich. Z polskich studiów slawistycznych, seria 4: Językoznawstwo, 81–87. MASOJĆ, I., 2001. Regionalne cechy systemu gramatycznego współczesnej polszczyzny kultural- nej na Wileńszczyźnie. Warszawa: Elipsa. MINCEWICZ, J., 1992. Pieśni Wileńszczyzny. Olsztyn: Towarzystwo Miłośników Wilna i Ziemi Wileńskiej. RIEGER, J., 2006. O tak zwanym akaniu w gwarach polskich na Białorusi i Litwie. In: Red. K. RYMUT. Munuscula lingvistica in honorem Alexandrae Cieślikowa oblata. Kraków: Zakład Narodowy im. Ossolińskich OSSOLINEUM, 387–396. RIEGER, J., MASOJĆ, I., RUTKOWSKA, K., 2006. Słownictwo polszczyzny gwarowej na Litwie. Warszawa: Wydawnictwo „DiG”. SAWANIEWSKA-MOCHOWA, Z., 1991. Bi- bliografia prac o polszczyźnie kresowej. In: Red. J. RIEGER, M. WERENICZ. Studia nad polszczyzną kresową. T. VI. Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy im. Ossolińskich, Wydawnictwo Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 223–254. SAWANIEWSKA-MOCHOWA, Z., 1995. Bibliografia prac o polszczyźnie kresowej za lata 1989–1993 (z uzupełnieniem do roku 1988). In: Red. J. RIEGER. Studia nad polszczyzną kresową. T. VII. Wrocław: Zakład Narodowy im. Ossoliń- skich. Wydawnictwo Polskiej Akademii Nauk, 265–282. URBAŃCZYK, S., 1968. Gwary polskie na substracie staropruskim i geneza mazurzenia. In: Eadem Szkice z dziejów języka polskiego. War- szawa: Wydawnictwo Naukowe PWN, 208–222. A. Korycka. ANALIZA WYBRANYCH CECH FONETYCZNYCH I MORFOLOGICZNYCH... 204 II. FAKTAI IR APMĄSTYMAI / FAKTY I ROZWAŻANIA Anna Korycka Jan Kochanovski University in Kielce, Poland Research interests: borderland Polish language, ethnolinguistics, folklore ANALYSIS OF CHOSEN PHONETIC AND MORPHOLOGICAL FEATURES PRESENT IN POLISH FOLK SONGS IN THE VILNIUS REGION Summary This article is devoted to an analysis of certain phonetic and morphological features that occur in the material of Polish folk music in the Vilnius region. Excerpts were chosen with respect to the dominant linguistic elements (both phonetic and morphological) of the region in question. Examples were taken from Songs of Vilnius Region (Pieśni Wileńszczyzny) by Jan Mincewicz, materials gained from the Archive of the Institute of Lithuanian Literature and Folklore in Vilnius, and the author’s own recordings. Based on dialectological publica- tions (Kurzowa, Grek-Pabisowa, Sawaniewska- Mochowa, Rieger and others), an investigation into the occurrence of specific features of Northern Borderlands Polish in the Polish folk songs of the Vilnius region was undertaken. The Polish commu- nity is a dynamic group, the vast majority nurturing their own culture, language and customs. The first section of the article analyzes the phonetic features connected with the system of vowels and consonants. The second section con- tains an analysis of morphological phenomena (inflectional and word formative) present in the Polish folk songs known and sung in the Vilnius region. It was found that certain nouns change their grammatical gender; such singularities occur in the presence of the verb and the suffix -uk. The structure of the dialect in the researched area has been preserved quite well, which can be confirmed by the frequency with which the features typical of this region occur. In conclusion, on the basis of phonetics and morphology, it can be stated that the language of the Polish folk songs known and sung in Vilnius has retained many features of the dialect specific to the Northern Polish Borderlands. KEY WORDS: folk song, phonetics, inflec- tion, word formation, borderlands dialect, Vilnius region. Ana Korycka Jano Kochanovskio universitetas Kielcuose, Lenkija Moksliniai interesai: pasienio lenkų kalba, etno- lingvistika, tautosaka VILNIAUS KRAŠTO LENKŲ LIAUDIES DAINŲ PASIRINKTINŲ FONETINIŲ IR MORFOLOGINIŲ SAVYBIŲ ANALIZĖ Santrauka Straipsnyje analizuojamos pasirinktos fonetinės ir morfologinės savybės, aptinkamos Vilniaus regiono lenkų liaudies dainų tekstuose. Pavyz- džiai paimti iš Jano Mincewicziaus knygos „Vil- niaus krašto dainos“ („Pieśni Wileńszczyzny”) tekstų. Medžiaga gauta iš Lietuvių literatūros ir tautosakos instituto Vilniuje archyvo, panaudoti pačios autorės įrašai. Remiantis dialektologijos publikacijomis (Z. Kurzowa, I. Grek-Pabisowa, Z. Sawaniewska-Mochowa, J. Rieger ir kitomis) buvo tiriami specifiniai šiaurinio Lietuvos pasienio lenkų kalbos ypatumai Vilniaus krašto lenkų liau- dies dainose. Lenkų bendruomenė yra dinamiška grupė, puoselėjanti savo kultūrą, kalbą ir papročius. Pirmoje straipsnio dalyje analizuojamos foneti- nės garsų ypatybės, susijusios su balsių ir priebalsių sistema. Antroji dalis skirta morfologiniams bruo- žams (kaitybai ir darybai), aptinkamiems Vilniaus regiono lenkų liaudies dainose. Aptariama daikta- vardžio giminės kaita, veiksmažodžio vienaskaitos ypatumai, priesaga -uk. Tiriamosios srities dialektų struktūra puikiai išsaugota. Tai patvirtina tipiškų bruožų dažnumas Vilniaus srityje. Apibendrinant galima teigti, kad remiantis fonetika ir morfologija, lenkų liaudies dainose (žinomose ir dainuojamose Vilniuje) išlaikyta daug dialekto bruožų, tipiškų šiauriniam pasieniui. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: liaudies dainos, fonetika, kaityba, žodžių daryba, pasienio ruožo dialektas, Vilniaus regionas. Gauta 2012 03 31 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 205 III. NUOMONĖ / OPINIE I POGLĄDY Jacek Szajewski Jan Kochanowski University in Kielce Department of Foreign Languages ul. Kościuszki 13, 25-310 Kielce, Poland E-mail: jacszaj@wp.pl Research interests: discourse analysis, cross-cultural politeness, pragmatics, corpus lin- guistics ON “POLITENESS” AND “POLITE LIES” IN EVERYDAY DISCOURSE This article primarily contains a threefold presentation of the notion of politeness. The uni- versality of the phenomenon of politeness and its wide recognisability inspired the choice of methodology adopted herein. The article aims to produce some observations with regard to both similarities and possible divergences amongst the following angles of the concept in question: a) dictionary definitions, b) definitions proposed by linguists, and c) the perception of this concept by members of society. The paper further aims to shape an initial vision of the category of “politeness” in order to classify it and specify its means of verbalization, with a special focus on the territory of polite lies. The article begins by presenting the dictionary definitions of the concept in que- stion and attempts to show the complexity of the phenomenon, which directly results from the definitions under scrutiny. These are then contrasted with some common definitions proposed by linguists; the key concepts, the operationalization of politeness, and the author’s comments can be found in this section. Subsequently, these definitions are contrasted with the ways lay members of society perceive the concept of politeness. Afterwards, the paper briefly outlines the two fundamental theories of linguistic politeness, namely Brown and Levinson’s Theory of Politeness and Leechs’s Politeness Principle. This is done especially with a view to settling the notion of the polite lie within the frames of the aforementioned theories. Consequently, the phenomenon of the polite lie is defined and the ways in which it typically operates are shown. This is done by means of Brown and Levinson’s positive politeness theory and Leech’s maxims of politeness. Ultimately, the article attempts to contrast language users’ perceptions of polite lies with the two theories of politeness. The dictionary database was collected from the OED2 dictionary and the Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary, as well as from two questionnaires presented to eight informants of different ages and occupations. The paper includes summing-up definitions of linguistic politeness and polite lies, as well as a table with the final results of the questionnaire studies. KEY WORDS: politeness, face, polite lies, discourse analysis. 206 III. NUOMONĖ / OPINIE I POGLĄDY Towards a definition of politeness: a dictionary study In order to arrive at an adequate definition of the term politeness (which is, undoubtedly, a difficult endeavour) one has to make a distinction between “politeness” which is seen as “polite behaviour in general” and politeness as “polite language use.” This natural dichotomy seems to be supported by the very dictionary definitions of the word in question, e.g.: The Oxford English Dictionary (OED2 on CD-ROM) gives the following defi- nitions and diachronic usage of the word “politeness.” 1. lit. Polish, smoothness of surface. 2. Mental or intellectual culture; polish, refi- nement, elegance, good taste (of writings, authors, etc.). Now rare. 3. Polished manners, courtesy. 1702 Eng. Theophrast. Politeness may be defined a dextrous management of our Words and Actions whereby we make other people have better Opinion of us and themselves. 1802 M. Edgeworth Moral T. (1816) I. vii. 45 Real politeness only teaches us to save others from unnecessary pain. 1856 Emerson Eng. Traits, Aristocr. Wks. (Bohn) II. 83 Politeness is the ritual of society, as prayers are of the church. The Merriam-Webster Online Dictiona- ry provides the following definitions: 1 a : of, relating to, or having the characte- ristics of advanced culture b : marked by refined cultural interests and pursuits especially in arts and belles lettres 2 a : showing or characterized by correct social usage b : marked by an appearance of considera- tion, tact, deference, or courtesy c : marked by a lack of roughness or cru- dities <polite literature> Thus, according to the above dictionary definitions, the perception of politeness appears to be at least threefold: 1) Behavioural dimension (polished man- ners, dextrous management of words and actions) 2) Cultural dimension (the ritual of soci- ety; marked by a lack of roughness or crudities) 3) Social dimension (saving others from unnecessary pain; showing or char- acterized by correct social usage; an appearance of consideration, tact, defer- ence, or courtesy) The above-quoted dictionary definitions directly cast some light on the complexity and heterogeneity of this phenomenon. Let us narrow down the examination of the phenomenon to its linguistic dimension exclusively. Thus, so called “linguistic politeness” will be our main concern. As a matter of fact, to some people the term “linguistic politeness” appears tautologous, since most of the behaviour which is consi- dered “polite” is rendered through language (Lakoff 2005). Seen from this perspective, there is very little “politeness” which can be described as “non-linguistic.” Towards a definition of politeness: the linguists’ perspective Now let us examine some of the perspecti- ves that linguists adopt while talking about the phenomenon of linguistic politeness. Watts (2003) approaches polite language usage from the following angle: To characterise polite language usage, we might resort to expressions like “the language a person uses to avoid being too direct,” or “language which displays respect towards or consideration for others….” [W] e might give examples such as “language which con- 207J. Szajewski. ON “POLITENESS” AND “POLITE LIES” IN EVERYDAY DISCOURSE tains respectful forms of address like sir or madam,” “language that displays certain ‘polite’ formulaic utterances like please, thank you, excuse me or sor- ry….” And again we would encounter people who consider the polite use of language as “hypocritical,” “dishonest,” “distant,” “unfeeling,” etc. As can be seen from Watts’s definition, there is a certain amount of hesitancy and uncertainty in establishing this concept within a clear-cut frame. This seems to be due to the fact that the concept of politeness pervades various aspects of human activity, both verbal and non-. Its nature appears to be multi-layered, and heavily dependent on the pragmatic context of an utterance. In the literature, there have been some other attempts to define politeness. Let me present and comment upon the most fun- damental ones. 1. Lakoff (1975, p. 64): “…politeness is developed by societies in order to reduce friction in personal interaction.” Such friction is undesirable, and societies de- velop strategies, politeness being one of them, to reduce that friction (Watts 2003). 2. Leech (1980, p. 19) defines it as “stra- tegic conflict avoidance,” which “can be measured in terms of the degree of effort put into the avoidance of a conflict situation,” and the establishment and maintenance of comity. The avoidance of conflict is viewed as an intentional effort, as it is “strategic.” What is more, if politeness is behaviour whose aim is to establish and maintain comity, this must mean that people evaluate other forms of behaviour as undermining those aims. 3. Brown and Levinson (1978) “view po- liteness as a complex system for soften- ing face-threatening acts.”1 1 Brown and Levinson’s politeness theory will be discussed below. Face-threatening acts (FTAs) are acts 4. Kasper (1990, p. 194) builds her work on Brown and Levinson’s approach to politeness and claims that “com- munication is seen as a fundamentally dangerous and antagonistic endeavor.” “Politeness is therefore a term to refer to the strategies available to interactants to defuse the danger and to minimalise the antagonism” (Watts 2003, p. 51). 5. Hill et al. (1986, p. 349) characterize politeness as “one of the constraints on human interaction, whose purpose is to consider others’ feelings, establish levels of mutual comfort, and promote rapport.” 6. Ide (1989, p. 225) sees it as “language usage associated with smooth com- munication.” As Sifianou (1992, pp. 82–3) puts it, this “is achieved through the speaker’s use of intentional strate- gies and of expressions conforming to prescribed norms.” 7. Sifianou (1992, p. 86) defines it as “the set of social values which instructs interactants to consider each other by satisfying shared expectations.” This definition seems to be normative and prescriptive in nature, as the idea of harmony in interaction and the idea of instructing language users are prevalent. The above definitions can be summari- zed in Tables 1–3. either verbal or non-verbal, which threaten “the way in which an individual sees her/himself or would like to be seen by others (taken from the metaphorical expression ‘face’, as in ‘to lose face,’ ‘face-saving,’ etc.)” (Watts 2003, p. 274). 208 III. NUOMONĖ / OPINIE I POGLĄDY Table 1. Summary of linguists’ definitions of politeness. No. Source Key concepts Comments Operationaliza-tion of politeness 1. Lakoff (1975) friction reduction in personal interaction politeness is viewed as a set of norms for cooperative behaviour; certain types of behaviour are socially undesirable Behavioural, evaluative 2. Leech (1980) avoidance of a conflict situation; maintenance of comity some forms of behaviour threaten comity and those should be avoided strategically Behavioural (strategic), attitudinal 3. Brown and Levinson (1978) softening face- threatening acts the notion of the hearer’s “face” is emphasized Behavioural, attitudinal 4. Kasper (1990) fundamentally dangerous and antagonistic endeavour, defusing danger and minimalizing antagonism Brown and Levinson’s negative politeness is emphasized Behavioural, attitudinal 5. Hill et al. (1986) consideration for others’ feelings establishing levels of mutual comfort and promoting rapport the notion of positive politeness is emphasized Behavioural, attitudinal 6. Ide (1989) smooth communication conforming to prescribed norms politeness is normative Behavioural, attitudinal 7. Sifianou (1992) social values consideration for each other politeness is normative Evaluative Table 2. Approaches to politeness Categories Lakoff Leech Brown and Levinson Kasper social dimension politeness is developed by society some forms of behaviour threaten comity and should be avoided the notion of the hearer’s “face” is emphasized - interpersonal level reduces friction in personal interaction - softening of face-threatening acts (Negative Politeness) softening of face-threatening acts (Negative Politeness) strategic behaviour - strategic conflict avoidance, intentional effort complex system strategic behaviour to minimize antagonism between interactants 209J. Szajewski. ON “POLITENESS” AND “POLITE LIES” IN EVERYDAY DISCOURSE Table 3. Approaches to politeness (cont’d) Categories Hill et al. Ide Sifianou social dimension mutual comfort and rapport (Positive Politeness) smooth communication pursuing shared expectations interpersonal level consideration for others’ feelings smooth communication consideration for others strategic behaviour one of the constraints on human interaction intentional strategies conforming to prescribed norms set of social values Towards a definition of politeness: as viewed by language users For some linguists, an investigation of the ways in which polite or impolite behaviour is evaluated and commented upon by lay members of a social group is “the only va- lid means of developing a social theory of politeness” (Watts 2003, p. 9). Indeed, the conceptualisation of this term by language users may constitute some solid ground for the presentation of what some people call Politeness Theory, that is, a theoretical concept of our polite (or impolite) linguistic behaviour. Hence, the methodology which has been employed in this paper. For this reason, I thought it useful to have a rough idea of what polite or impolite behaviour denotes in our society. What is more, I was truly curious about the way people around me perceive this social phe- nomenon. I intended to discover whether it is true or not that “lay conceptualisations of politeness are frequently rather vague, since we tend to take forms of politeness for granted” (Watts 2003, p. 30). On the other hand, I anticipated that speakers can tell intuitively whether an utterance is polite, rude, or in between, so I expected them to bring their intuitive rule-governed politeness competence2 into consciousness 2 Lakoff (2006, p. 9) argues that the system of po- liteness is systematically rule-governed. and present their understanding of this phenomenon. Hence, a simple questionnaire was con- structed in which my informants were asked the following question: What does the word “politeness” mean to you? The data gathered are presented in Table 4. As can be seen from the above lay defini- tions, there exists a certain amount of over- lap between those definitions and the ones proposed by the linguists studying the field. Let us compare the two types of defini- tions in Table 5. Interestingly, mutual comfort and pro- motion of rapport in the linguists’ definition can be matched with kindness, well-bred manners and tactful behaviour in the infor- mants’ definitions. Similarly, consideration for others has its rough counterpart in the form of respect towards others. The notion of a situational context is prevalent in both categories of the definitions. Sifianou (1992) conducted a similar experiment among the English and Greek members of society. Her observations of the English conceptualization of the word politeness included: consideration for others, formality, discrete maintenance of distance, but also expressions of “altruism, generosity, morality and self-abnegation” (Sifianou 1992, p. 88). 210 III. NUOMONĖ / OPINIE I POGLĄDY A polite lie and its definition Not only politeness itself, but also the terri- tory of a lie are within my field of attention and study. In this part of the paper I will attempt to examine some areas of linguistic behaviour in which a lie fulfils the criteria of “polite linguistic behaviour,” and therefore can be referred to as a polite lie. At the very onset, I will very briefly present the two fundamental theories of poli- teness, namely Brown and Levinson’s Theory of Politeness and Leech’s Politeness Principle. Subsequently, I will illustrate how the notion of a lie operates within these two theories. One of the crucial concepts in poli- teness theory is the idea of face. Its sense Table 5. Comparison of linguists’ and lay speakers’ definitions of politeness. LINGUISTS’ DEFINITION SPEAKERS’ DEFINITION social dimension mutual comfort and promotion of rapport kindness, well-bred manners, tactful behaviour interpersonal level consideration for others’ feelings respect towards others; ability to understand others strategic behaviour intentional strategies conforming to prescribed norms; set of social values expressions which agree with spe- cific situations or people Table 4. Summary of lay responses to the politeness survey. The perception of politeness by male polish informants of different ages and occupations. No.1 No.2 No.3 No.4 Informant’s occupation school manager regular soldier teacher of biology porter/janitor Showing respect towards others. Ability to listen to and understand others. It can make life easier. Behaving towards other people in a cultured way. Ability to behave properly (i.e., in a way which is not troublesome to anybody or hurting anybody’s feelings, habits or traditions) in any situation, including unex- pected ones. Respect for other people and also a sign of our good manners and kind- ness. The perception of politeness by female polish informants of different ages and occupations No.1 No.2 No.3 No.4 Informant’s occupation client consultant teacher of Russian consultant teacher of arts Kindness; one’s ability to do somebody a fa- vour if needed. A particular kind of interpersonal behaviour charac- terized by using words and expres- sions which agree with specific situ- ations or people. Kindliness, being nice, a smile on one’s face, well-bred man- ners, tactful behaviour in a particular situation. A well-bred gesture towards another person. 211J. Szajewski. ON “POLITENESS” AND “POLITE LIES” IN EVERYDAY DISCOURSE is closely related to the common phrase to lose face meaning “to be humiliated” or “to lose credit/reputation.”3 Brown and Levinson (1987) claim that every human being possesses “face,” something that is threatened in most encounters. They say that face exists in two varieties: positive face and negative face. A person’s positive face is “a person’s desire to be well thought of,” accepted and understood by others, even liked, treated as a friend and confidant, as a member of the same group, to be appreciated and appro- ved of. Positive face involves the need to be connected. Thus, a complaint about the quality of someone’s work threatens his/her positive face. A person’s negative face can be defined as “a wish not to be imposed on by others and be allowed to go about our business unimpeded with our rights to free and self-determined action” (Grundy 1995, p. 133). Negative face involves the need to be independent. In other words, it can be viewed as freedom from imposition and freedom of action. An utterance may by oriented either to the positive or to the negative face of the interactants. Hence, one can distinguish so-called face-threatening acts, which are those acts that endanger the hearer’s ne- gative face, since they frequently impose some action on the hearer, intrude on the addressee’s territory, and limit his or her freedom of action (Sifianou 1992). On the other hand, an example of reference (and threat) to the addressee’s positive face can be our dissatisfaction with the quality of their service or work. 3 According to the Oxford Advanced Learner’s Dictionary. What Brown and Levinson (1987) call positive politeness and negative politeness is an action of redress (an indication that no “face threat is intended or desired” (ibid, p. 70)) which is oriented either to the hearer’s positive or negative face respectively. What is more, they formulate superordinate stra- tegies from which we can choose when we have a face-threatening act to perform: 1. To do the act on-record (explicitly, without attempting to hide what we are conveying). The on-record strategy can be further subdivided into three subordinate stra- tegies: a. to do the act on-record baldly without redress b. to do the act on-record with positive politeness c. to do the act on-record with nega- tive politeness 2. To do the act off-record (implicitly, attempting to hide what we are con- veying). 3. Not to do the act at all. Which strategy we choose is a question of how polite we wish to be. The strategies presented above rank from the least polite (1), in which there is no compensation for the face-threat, to (3) where “the face threat is too great to be compensated for by any language formula so that the most appropriate politeness strategy is not to do the act” (Grundy 1995, p. 135). How does a verbal lie function within Brown and Levinson’s Theory of Poli- teness? I deliberately avoided using the term act since a lie cannot be treated as a speech act in the sense Austin (1965) understood it. Let me, by way of digression, explain the “non-performative” nature of a lie. A 212 III. NUOMONĖ / OPINIE I POGLĄDY lie does not possess any direct (explicit) or indirect (implicit) formula that would be capable of rendering such an act. Drawing on Austin’s Speech Act Theory, a lie is not a performative act of the following form: I hereby + Vgp We cannot say: I hereby lie to you. Si- milarly, we cannot say I hereby threaten you. As Sebeok (1978, p. 126) phrased it: “Nothing is a lie in itself , but any utterance can be a lie.” Lies and Positive Politeness To Brown and Levinson, a lie operates wi- thin the Theory of Politeness in the latter’s positive domain (Positive Politeness) exclu- sively. The need to be polite frequently leads us to resort to the strategy of lying, parti- cularly when there is a risk of threatening our own or the interlocutor’s positive face. Brown and Levinson (1987, p. 115) treat “white lies” as examples of positive poli- teness, that is, a strategy that we frequently employ when we wish to avoid threatening the hearer’s positive face. White lies can be treated as conventional, habitual and automatically fabricated excuses exploited in situations involving an awkward request or an awkward question (Antas 2008). False excuses are, thus, a fairly common strategy within a polite lie, e.g.: I can’t lend you my iPod as the batteries are run-down. I’d love to go out with you tonight, but I have to stay longer at work. Leech’s Politeness Principle Leech (1983) puts forward his own theory of politeness, chiefly by introducing the Politeness Principle which maintains “the social equilibrium and the friendly relations which enable us to assure that our interlocu- tors are being cooperative in the first place” (1983, p. 82). The Principle works in two ways: it can “minimize (other things being equal) the expression of impolite beliefs,” which is its negative form. In its positive form it can “maximize (other things being equal) the expression of polite beliefs.” Po- lite and impolite beliefs are the ones which are favourable or unfavourable to the hearer. • TACT MAXIM a) Minimize cost to other b) (Maximize benefit to other) Leech considers the Tact Maxim as “per- haps the most important kind of politeness in English-speaking society.” There are two sides to the Tact Maxim: a negative one (a), and a positive one (b), the second being less important, but still “a natural corollary of the first.” The degree of tact can be measured by means of the cost-benefit scale. It estima- tes the cost or benefit to the speaker or to the hearer of a certain action A. Leech (1983, p. 107) gives the following example: 1. Peel these potatoes. cost to hearer less polite 2. Hand me the newspaper. 3. Sit down. 4. Look at that. 5. Enjoy your holiday. 6. Have another sandwich. benefit to hearer more polite 213J. Szajewski. ON “POLITENESS” AND “POLITE LIES” IN EVERYDAY DISCOURSE Antas (2008) considers a lie to be a tactful, desirable and strategic behaviour in a particular pragmatic situation. Utterances like Enjoy your holiday or Have another sandwich can be examples of lies with the speaker not necessarily genuinely meaning what he or she conveys, instead simply obeying the Tact Maxim. • GENEROSITY MAXIM a) Minimize benefit to self b) (Maximize cost to self) For example, when we consider the following sentences: Could I have some more X? and Is there any more X?, Leech notices that greater politeness is achieved in the second one, because reference to the speaker as beneficiary is omitted (minimi- zation of benefit to self). We very often employ this strategy while producing conventional false assurances of the following sort: Doesn’t really matter. (Pol.: nie ma sprawy) That’s OK. (Pol.: nic się nie stało) No problem. (Pol.: to nic) Clearly, in the above examples the speaker is “generous” towards the hearer in order to save his/her positive face in an awkward situation. Let us consider two more examples: I can lend you my car, no problem. (cost to self) You must come and visit us. (cost to self) In these examples the speaker (whether genuinely or not) commits to performing some action which could imply benefit to the hearer and cost to the speaker. • APPROBATION MAXIM a) Minimize dispraise of other b) (Maximize praise of other) “In its more important negative aspect, this maxim says ‘avoid saying unpleasant things about others, and more particularly, about h’” (1983, p. 135). Leech exemplifies: the compliment What a wonderful meal you cooked! is highly valued, whereas What an awful meal you cooked! is not. As dispraise of h or of a third party is impolite, various strategies of indirectness can be applied to diminish the effect of criticism, for instance “institutionalized forms of understatement” or, as Leech puts it, lack of praise which implicates dispraise: You could be more careful. Her performance was not as good as it might have been. A: Do you like these plums? B: I’ve tasted better. Interestingly, Leech initially suggests, but eventually abandons, as he puts it, an unflattering subtitle for the Approbation Maxim, namely “the Flattery Maxim.” He observes that “the term ‘flattery’ is generally reserved for insincere approbation” (1983, p. 135). Here we encounter the word insin- cere, which is vital for our understanding of the polite lie strategy operating within this maxim. We do, in fact, often praise others in a hyperbolic way or alternatively use litotes or understatement in order to minimize our dispraise of others. Let us consider the following examples: 214 III. NUOMONĖ / OPINIE I POGLĄDY I’m very happy to see you! hyperboleThat’s a great present! I’m infinitely grateful! It’s not quite like that. litotes/understatementYou could have been more thoughtful. Your work leaves a lot to be desired. • MODESTY MAXIM a) Minimize praise of self b) (Maximize dispraise of self) Leech (1983) gives the following examples (the dagger † indicates that the utterance is less acceptable in terms of absolute politeness): How stupid of me! †How clever of me! Please accept this small gift as a token of our esteem. †Please accept this large gift as a token of our esteem. The above examples show that self- -dispraise is considered to be quite modest, even when exaggerated for some comic effect. Similarly, the understatement of one’s generosity or false disagreement is normal and conventional, in contrast to the exaggeration of one’s generosity. “To break the first submaxim of Modesty is to commit the social transgression of boasting” (1983, p. 136). Hence, we often resort to lying and produce utterances of the following kind: My contribution was really small. (in fact it wasn’t, mine was the lion’s share) No, you’re exaggerating. (false disa- greement) In my humble opinion… If I could say something… • AGREEMENT MAXIM a) Minimize disagreement between self and other b) (Maximize agreement between self and other) Leech notes that “there is a tendency to exaggerate agreement with other people, and to mitigate disagreement by expressing regret, partial agreement, etc.” (1983, p. 138). He gives the following examples: A: It was an interesting exhibition, wasn’t it? B: †No, it was very uninteresting. [Ma- xim of Agreement disobeyed] A: English is a difficult language to learn. B: True, but the grammar is quite easy. The latter example shows that partial disagreement is more preferable to complete disagreement. Some more examples of conventional lies include: It’s not quite like that. (Pol.: To niezu- pełnie tak.) I don’t fully agree. (Pol.: Nie całkiem się zgadzam) It doesn’t suit me very well. (Pol.: Nie bardzo mi to odpowiada) – in the case when we completely disagree with something. I’ll have to consider this. (Pol.: Muszę 215J. Szajewski. ON “POLITENESS” AND “POLITE LIES” IN EVERYDAY DISCOURSE się jeszcze nad tym zastanowić) – in the case when we know that something does not satisfy us. • SYMPATHY MAXIM a) Minimize antipathy between self and other b) (Maximize sympathy between self and other) This maxim “explains why congratula- tions and condolences are courteous speech acts, even though… [they] express beliefs which are negative with regard to the he- arer” (1983, p. 138). Example: I’m terribly sorry to hear that your dog died. in contrast to: †I’m terribly pleased to hear that your dog died. Leech (1983) points out that condo- lences are usually expressed with some reticence since they convey an impolite belief which is unfavourable to h. Therefore it might be preferable to say: I’m terribly sorry to hear about your dog. The power of the Sympathy Maxim enables the hearer to interpret the above utterances as an expression of sympathy for misfortune. Antas (2008) produces her own additio- nal maxim to Leech’s maxims, which she labels as Maksyma Wspólnego Narzekania (Maxim of Shared Complaining [translation mine]). The application of this maxim is prevalent among Polish language users. She regards complaining as a typically Polish verbal behaviour employed in a particular situation that can be fortunate or not for the speaker. She compares this strategy to “picking holes in something” and finally treats it as a derivative of Leech’s Modesty Maxim. I think everyone is familiar with typical- ly Polish responses to the question How’s life? We are likely to say: Pol.: Stara bieda. ≈ En: Same as ever. Pol.: Jakoś leci. ≈ En: Can’t complain. Adhering to Leech’s Modesty Maxim and seeking positive politeness between us and the third party is the main incentive for employing this strategy. Polite lies from the perspective of language users Curiosity as to how language users understand the phenomenon of polite lies inspired me to conduct yet another question- naire. I asked my informants the following question: What does “a polite lie” mean to you? The answers are presented in Table 6. It seems to me that for both male and fe- male informants, the most important under- lying reason for employing the strategy of a polite lie is his or her interlocutor’s positive face. Indeed, Brown and Levinson’s posi- tive face notion seems to be prevailing in all the answers given. Consider the following: • he/she avoids hurting the addressee of the message • in order not to hurt them • avoidance of embarrassing situations in interpersonal relations • one can avoid a clumsy situation or hurting somebody 216 III. NUOMONĖ / OPINIE I POGLĄDY • not to undermine social relations • convey unpleasant information more subtly Conclusions To sum up, the primary purpose of this paper was to present, compare and contrast the notion of politeness from a threefold perspective: • the dictionary definitions Table 6. Lay speakers’ understanding of “polite lies.” The perception of politeness by male polish informants of different ages and occupations No.1 No.2 No.3 No.4 Informant’s occupation school manager regular soldier teacher of biology porter/janitor The least harmful of all lies, frequently resulting in the better mental state of the “perpetrator” as he/ she avoids hurting the addressee of the message. Saying something which is not true to somebody in order not to hurt them. Concealment of something or a harmless lie over an unimportant matter, thanks to which one can avoid a clumsy situation or hurting somebody. The choice of a “lesser evil;” a sign of our kindness and reluctance to distress others. The perception of politeness by female polish informants of different ages and occupations No.1 No.2 No.3 No.4 Informant’s occupation client consultant teacher of Russian consultant teacher of arts It is like saying to somebody: “You look nice today,” without really meaning it. Avoidance of embar- rassing situations in interpersonal rela- tions. A situation in which it is more advis- able to say an untruth or a half-truth in order not to undermine social relations. A lie for somebody’s own good; concealment of truth/ understate- ment in order to convey unpleasant information more subtly. It is a way of saving somebody (our interlocutor) from distress, sadness, etc. • linguists’ descriptions • language users’ conceptualizations What is more, I have attempted to lo- cate the concept of a polite lie within the two fundamental theories of “politeness,” i.e., Brown and Levinson’s Theory of Poli- teness and Leech’s Politeness Principle. In addition, I have endeavoured to contrast the perception of polite lies by language users with the two theories mentioned above. 217J. Szajewski. ON “POLITENESS” AND “POLITE LIES” IN EVERYDAY DISCOURSE References ANTAS, J., 2008. O kłamstwie i kłamaniu. Kraków: Universitas. AUSTIN, J. L., 1965. How to Do Things with Words. Oxford: Clarendon Press. BROWN, P.; LEVINSON, S., 1978. Univer- sals in language usage: politeness phenomena. In: E. GOODY, ed. Questions and Politeness. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 56–289. BROWN, P.; LEVINSON, S., 1987. Polite- ness: Some Universals in Language Usage. Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press. GRUNDY, P., 1995. Doing Pragmatics. Lon- don: Edward Arnold. HILL, B.; IDE, S.; IKUTA, S.; KAWASA- KI, A.; OGINO, T., 1986. Universals of linguistic politeness: quantitative evidence from Japanese and American English. Journal of Pragmatics, 10(3), 347–71. IDE, S., 1989. Formal forms and discernment: two neglected aspects of linguistic politeness. 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Jacek Szajewski Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach, Polska Zainteresowania naukowe: analiza dyskursu, grzeczność międzykulturowa, pragmatyka języ- kowa, językoznawstwo korpusowe KILKA SŁÓW O GRZECZNOŚCI I KŁAM- STWACH GRZECZNOŚCIOWYCH W CO- DZIENNYM DYSKURSIE Streszczenie Niniejszy artykuł ukazuje zjawisko grzeczności językowej z trzech perspektyw: definicji słow- nikowych, definicji zaproponowanych przez językoznawców oraz sposobów pojmowania tego zjawiska przez użytkowników języka. Podstawo- wym celem artykułu było ukazanie zbieżności i różnic występujących pomiędzy wyżej wymienio- nymi sposobami definiowania tego zjawiska, jak również określenie jego występowania w obszarze kłamstwa grzecznościowego. Przedstawiono defi- nicje słownikowe grzeczności i ukazano złożoność Jacek Szajewski Jano Kochanovskio universitetas Kielcuose, Lenkija Moksliniai interesai: diskurso analizė, tarpkul- tūrinis mandagumas, pragmatika, tekstynų lingvistika ŠIS TAS APIE „MANDAGUMĄ“ IR „MAN- DAGŲ MELĄ“ KASDIENIAME DISKURSE Santrauka Straipsnyje kalbama apie trejopą mandagumo sąvoką. Šio straipsnio metodologijos pasirinkimą lėmė mandagumo reiškinio universalumas ir jo platus pripažinimas. Straipsnyje siekiama pateikti keletą pastebėjimų apie panašumus ir galimus skirtumus, kurie atsiranda nagrinėjant sąvokas šiais aspektais: žodyno apibrėžimų, kalbininkų siūlomų apibrėžimų, visuomenės narių supratimas. Be to, siekiama suformuluoti pradinę „mandagumo“ kategorijos viziją, kad būtų galima ją klasifikuoti ir detalizuoti jos verbalizavimą kreipiant ypatingą dėmesį mandagiam melui. Straipsnio pradžioje 218 III. NUOMONĖ / OPINIE I POGLĄDY tego zjawiska. Następnie przedstawiono główne definicje zjawiska grzeczności, zaproponowane przez językoznawców. Omówiono także kluczowe pojęcia i obszary występowania zjawiska grzeczno- ści, dodano komentarze autorskie. Następnie doko- nano analizy porównawczej definicji uzyskanych od użytkowników języka i skontrastowano je z definicjami podanymi przez badaczy języka. W dal- szej części artykułu pokrótce scharakteryzowano dwie fundamentalne teorie dotyczące grzeczności językowej: teorię grzeczności Penelope Brown i Stephena Levinsona oraz zasadę grzeczności Geoffreya Leecha. Dokonano próby osadzenia zjawiska kłamstwa grzecznościowego w ramach wyżej wymienionych teorii. Pomocne okazały się kategorie grzeczności pozytywnej, jak też Le- echowskie maksymy grzeczności. W zakończeniu autor skonfrontował sposób postrzegania zjawiska kłamstwa grzecznościowego przez użytkowników języka z teoriami grzeczności zaproponowanymi przez Brown i Levinsona oraz Leecha. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: grzeczność, grzeczność językowa, twarz, kłamstwo grzecznościowe, ana- liza dyskursu. pateikiama sąvokos definicija, aptariamas reiškinio sudėtingumas, pastebėtas kruopščiai išanalizavus sąvokos apibrėžimus. Toliau pristatomi bendrieji lingvistų apibrėžimai ir gretinamoji analizė. Pa- teikiamos pagrindinės mandagumo ir autoriaus komentarų sąvokos. Vėliau šie apibrėžimai lygi- nami su visuomenės narių mandagumo sąvokos supratimo būdais. Siekiant tiksliai apibrėžti mandagaus melo sąvoką, straipsnyje trumpai apibūdinamos dvi fundamentalios lingvistinio mandagumo teorijos. Pasitelkus Browno ir Levinsono teigiamo manda- gumo teoriją bei Leecho mandagumo maksimas, apibrėžiamas mandagaus melo reiškinys, parodo- mi jo veikos būdai. Stengiamasi palyginti kalbos vartotojų mandagaus melo suvokimą su dviem mandagumo teorijomis. Žodyno duomenų bazė buvo surinkta iš OED2 žodyno, Merriam-Webster Online Dictionary, taip pat dviejų klausimynų, pateiktų aštuoniems įvai- raus amžiaus ir profesijų informantams. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: mandagumas, vei- das, mandagus melas, diskurso analizė. Gauta 2012 05 01 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 219 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE Vilija Ragaišienė Lietuvių kalbos institutas P. Višinskio g. 5, LT-10308 Vilnius, Lietuva El. paštas vilija.ragaisiene@vlkk.lt Moksliniai interesai: akcentologija, dialektologija, leksikografija DAIKTAVARDŽIŲ KIRČIAVIMO POLINKIAI XX A. 6–7 DEŠIMTMEČIO PIETŲ AUKŠTAIČIŲ ŠNEKTŲ RANKRAŠTINIUOSE ŠALTINIUOSE Šiame straipsnyje nagrinėjami Lietuvių kalbos instituto Kalbos istorijos ir dialektologijos skyriaus Tarmių archyve saugomuose XX amžiaus 6–7 dešimtmečio pietų aukštaičių šnektų rankrašti- niuose šaltiniuose rasti keleriopai kirčiuojami daiktavardžiai. Straipsniu siekiama nustatyti šių daiktavardžių kirčiavimo tendencijas, parodyti jų geografinį paplitimą ir reiškinio intensyvumą. Rankraštiniuose šaltiniuose rastų variantų gausa (užrašyta daugiau nei du šimtai žodžių) rodo, kad pietų aukštaičių plote kirčiavimo variantiškumo XX a. 6–7 dešimtmetyje būta gana intensyvaus. Dauguma įvairiai kirčiuojamų žodžių formų aptariamuose šaltiniuose paliudytos kelis ar net keliolika kartų. Daiktavardžių akcentinių gretybių išplitimas būdingas visam pietų aukštaičių plotui, tačiau jų dažnumas nevienodas. Dvejopai kirčiuojamų formų, pvz.: rastai, rastų / raista, raist, daugiau rasta pietvakarinėje ir pietinėje ploto dalyje, akūtinio kamieno vienaskaitos įnagininko ir daugiskaitos galininko oksitoninio kirčiavimo gretybės, pvz.: žedas (3), žiedù, žiedùs, dažniau aptinkamos pietinėse ir rytinėse šnektose. Išsami duomenų analizė rodo, kad daiktavardžiai pietų aukštaičių šnektose kirčiuojami ne pramaišiui, o pagal vieną kurią akcentinę paradigmą. Iš toje pačioje šnektoje ar visame plote vartojamų dviejų kirčiavimo variantų vienas yra pagrindinis, kitas – gretiminis. Rankraštinių šaltinių medžiaga remia kalbininkų prielaidas, kad pietų aukštaičių šnektose dvejopai kirčiuojamų daiktavardžių formų atsiradimas ir polinkis į oksitonezę pirmiausia sietinas su rekonstruojamu su dviejų daugiskaitų – paprastosios ir kuopinės – akcentiniu ir semantiniu modeliu, pvz.: pelis, dgs. peliai / kuop. dgs. peilia. Taip pat sukaupti duomenys pagrindžia nuostatą, kad daiktavardžių akcentuaciją galėjo veikti ir kamienų sąveikos veiksniai – homo- niminių formų egzistavimas, morfo(no)loginis paradigmos išlyginimas, sistemos atitikties ir kt. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: akcentinis variantas, kirčiavimo variantiškumas, oksitonezė, paprastoji ir kuopinė daugiskaita, kamienas. Renkant medžiagą Lietuvių kalbos at lasui1, XX a. 6 dešimtmetyje tarmių tyrėjams kel- tas uždavinys fonetine transkripcija užrašyti 1 Lietuvių kalbos atlasas 1, 1971. Leksika. Vilnius: Mokslas. Lietuvių kalbos atlasas 2, 1982. Fonetika. Vil- nius: Mokslas. Lietuvių kalbos atlasas 3, 1991. Morfo- logija. Vilnius: Mokslas. ir sukirčiuoti „kiek galint daugiau tekstų [...] iš kasdienės kalbos ir tautosakos“ (žr. plačiau Lietuvių kalbos atlaso medžiagos rinkimo programą, p. 9). Taigi XX amžiaus 6–7 dešimtmetį Lietuvių kalbos institute iš pietų aukštaičių ploto buvo sukaupta nemažai tarminių rankraštinių tekstų, kurie iki šiol mažai tirti. 220 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE Daiktavardžių keleriopo kirčiavimo tendencijų tyrimui atlikti Lietuvių kalbos instituto Kalbos istorijos ir dialektologijos skyriaus Tarmių archyve saugomi XX a. 6–7 dešimtmečio rankraščiai pasirinkti neatsitiktinai. Visų pirma domino senes- niuose šaltiniuose užfiksuota medžiaga, nes pastarųjų dvidešimties metų garsiniai įrašai išanalizuoti ir aprašyti straipsnio autorės 2010 m. apgintoje daktaro disertacijoje (žr. plačiau Ragaišienė 2010). Be to, siekta patikrinti, kuriuo laikotarpiu galėjo rastis kirčiavimo įvairavimo tendencijos, nes ankstesni tyrėjai savo darbuose į tai, galima sakyti, neatkreipę dėmesio. Taip pat norėta pasižiūrėti, ar rankraštinių šaltinių medžia- ga remia kalbininkų nustatytas akcentinių variantų egzistavimo pietų aukštaičių šnek- tose prielaidas. Peržiūrėjus archyve esančius rankraščius nustatyta, kad per aptariamus du dešimtme- čius medžiagos sukaupta iš daugumos pietų aukštaičių gyvenamųjų vietų (punktų)2. Archyve rasti 57 rankraštiniai šaltiniai (apie 22 00 psl.) iš 55 gyvenamųjų punktų (žr. 1 lentelę). 2 Tirtinos gyvenamosios vietos (punktų pavadini- mai ir numeriai) nustatyti Lietuvių kalbos atlaso rengėjų. 1 lentelė. Tarmių archyvo rankraštiniai šaltiniai Vietovės sutrumpini- mas (punkto numeris) Vietovės pa- vadinimas* Metai, užrašytojas, šaltinio registracijos numeris Vietovės sutrumpini- mas (punkto numeris) Vietovės pava- dinimas Metai, užrašytojas, šaltinio registraci- jos numeris Al (644) Venciūnai, Alytaus r. 1964, Ž. Urbanavi- čiūtė, Rg. Nr. 819 Mrc (697) Marcinkonys, Druskininkų r. 1953, J. Jašins- kaitė, R. Jėčiūtė, K. Morkūnas, J. Kazlauskas, Rg. Nr. 157 Alv (645) Alovė, Dau- gų r. 1953, J. Paulauskas, M. Sapijanskaitė, Rg. Nr. 86 Mrk (688) Merkinė, Druskininkų r. 1953, J. Jašins- kaitė, R. Jėčiūtė, J. Morkūnas, J. Kazlauskas, Rg. Nr. 159 Avž (673) Avižieniai, Veisiejų r. 1954, B. Savukynas, Rg. Nr. 190 Mšk (683) Miškiniai, Lazdijų r. 1953, O. Stankevi- čiūtė, Rg. Nr. 175 Brč (656) Barčiai, Laz- dijų r. 1959, V. Labutis, Rg. Nr. 535 Mšk (683) Miškiniai, Lazdijų r. 1960, J. Valuckas, Rg. Nr. 663 Bržl (596) Bražuolos apyl., Tra- kų r. 1967, A. Jonaitytė, Rg. Nr. 877 Mšn (695) Mašnyčia, Druskininkų r. 1953, J. Pilypaitis, M. Svirskas, Rg. Nr. 160 Čbt (663) Čebatoriai, Eišiškių r. 1955, V. Ambrazas, Rg. Nr. 251 Mtl (657) Meteliai, Laz- dijų r. 1953, A. Gudony- tė, Rg. Nr. 174 Čvn (684a) Čivonys, Veisiejų r. 1951, B. Savukynas, Rg. Nr. 62 Nč (VII) Nočia, Rodū- nios r. 1959, A. Jonaitytė, Rg. Nr. 500 Dbč (699) Dubičiai, Varėnos r. 1952, J. Dovydaitis, Rg. Nr. 74 Nmn (659) Nemunaitis, Alytaus r. 1953, J. Paulaus- kas, M. Sapijans- kaitė, Rg. Nr. 85 Dč (650) Didžiosios Sėlos, Eišiš- kių r. 1964, J. Lipskienė, Rg. Nr. 816 Pčk (648) Pučkornė, Eišiškių r. 1955, N. Grigas, Rg. Nr. 252 * Vietovės pavadinimas nurodytas toks, koks teikiamas šaltinių registracijos žurnale. 221 Dgr (575) Daugirdiškės, Trakų r. 1965, K. Vosylytė, Rg. Nr. 836 Plkn (616) Paluknio apyl., Trakų r. 1966, A. Jonaitytė, Rg. Nr. 858 Dgn (691) Daugidonys, Eišiškių r. 1955, J. Dovydaitis, Rg. Nr. 253 Pls (IX) Pelesa, Rodū- nios r. 1955, J. Paulaus- kas, Rg. Nr. 503 Dlg (686a) Dulgininkai, Lazdijų r. D. Jarmuševičiūtė, V. Leščinskas, Rg. Nr. 864 Pls (IX) Pelesa, Rodū- nios r. 1959, D. Gargasai- tė, Rg. Nr. 503 Drž (696) Darželiai, Varėnos r. 1964, Ž. Urbanavi- čiūtė, Rg. Nr. 821 Pvč (689) Puvočiai, Druskininkų r. 1953, J. Jašins- kaitė, R. Jėčiūtė, K. Morkūnas, J. Kazlauskas, Rg. Nr. 156 Eiš (681) Eišiškės, Eišiškių r. 1957, A. Vidugiris, Rg. Nr. 766 Ram (VI) Ramaškonys, Varanavo r. 1959, J. Šukys, Rg. Nr. 501 Ilgn (660) Ilgininkai, Druskinin- kų r. 1953, J. Jašinskaitė, R. Jėčiūtė, J. Mor- kūnas, J. Kazlauskas, Rg. Nr. 158 Rč (674) Ročkiai, Laz- dijų r. 1954, A. Stučkai- tė, Rg. Nr. 165 Jk (662) Jakėnai, Varėnos r. 1952, M. Kindurytė, M. Sapijanskaitė, Rg. Nr. 73 Rtn (702) Ratnyčia, Druskininkų r. 1953, E. Širvins- kaitė, Rg. Nr. 161 Jkn (647a) Jakėnų apyl., Varėnos r. B. Cieškienė, Rg. Nr. 103 Rud (698) Rudnia, Varė- nos r. 1952, J. Dovydai- tis, Rg. Nr. 76 Kb (704) Kabeliai, Varėnos r. 1965, Ž. Urbanavi- čiūtė, Rg. Nr. 840 Rūd (634) Rūdninkai, Eišiškių r. 1967, M. Razmu- kaitė, 876 Kbš (687) Kibyšiai, Druskinin- kų r. 1953, B. Savukynas, V. Valunta, Rg. Nr. 155 Sel (658) Seiliūnai, Lazdijų r. 1953, N. Milinavi- čiūtė, Rg. Nr. 164 Knk (665) Kaniūkai, Eišiškių r. 1963, K. Vosylytė, Rg. Nr. 764 Spg (692) Sapiegiškiai, Veisiejų r. 1954, B. Savuky- nas, Rg. Nr. 220 Knv (690) Kaniava, Varėnos r. 1952, M. Svirskas, Rg. Nr. 77 Svl (675) Savilionys, Alytaus r. 1957, V. Ambra- zas, Rg. Nr. 335 Kpč (693) Kapčiamies- tis, Lazdijų r. 1953–1954, J. Dovy- daitis, Rg. Nr. 191 Škl (615) Šklėriai, Tra- kų r. 1957, K. Morkū- nas, Rg. Nr. 367 Kpč (693) Kapčiamies- tis, Lazdijų r. 1960, Z. Dzemionai- tė, Rg. Nr. 626 Šlčn (666) Šalčininkai, Šalčininkų r. 1963, A. Vidugi- ris, Rg. Nr. 776 Kurš (664) Kuršiai, Varėnos r. 1965, K. Vosylytė, Rg. Nr. 835 Šlčnk (651) Šalčininkėliai, Eišiškių r. 1967, A. Vidugi- ris, Rg. Nr. 875 Kvn (VIIIa) Kivonys, Varanavo r. 1963, A. Vidugiris, Rg. Nr. 767 Švnd (694a) Švendubrė, Druskininkų r. 1953, B. Švenčio- nytė, Rg. Nr. 232 Lpln (701) Lipliūnai, Veisiejų r. 1953, E. Grinavec- kienė, Rg. Nr. 152 Vėž (680) Vėžionys, Eišiškių r. 1955, A. Vidugi- ris, Rg. Nr. 249 Mcl (633) Maceliai, Trakų r. (Ei- šiškių r.) 1957, K. Eigminas, V. Vitkauskas, Rg. Nr. 369 Vng (671) Vingrėnai, Lazdijų r. 1953, E. Mika- lauskaitė, Rg. Nr. 167 Mcv (700) Macevičiai, Veisiejų r. 1954, J. Dovydaitis, Rg. Nr. 192 Vrn (678) Varėna, Varė- nos r. 1952, M. Kindu- rytė, M. Sapijans- kaitė, Rg. Nr. 72 Mr (593) Mergiškės, Vievio r. 1953, J. Dovydaitis, Rg. Nr. 151 1 lentelės tęsinys V. Ragaišienė. DAIKTAVARDŽIŲ KIRČIAVIMO POLINKIAI XX A. 6–7 DEŠIMTMEČIO PIETŲ 222 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE Taigi iš beveik viso tiriamojo ploto kalbininkų surinktų duomenų pakanka įvertinti ir nustatyti pietų aukštaičių daik- tavardžių ir jų formų kirčiavimo polinkius. Juolab kad aptariami šaltiniai palyginti gerai atspindi pietų aukštaičių šnektų ypatybes. Juose pateikta medžiaga yra ypač vertinga ir patikima, nes dauguma rankraščių parengti patyrusių dialektologų (žr. 1 lentelę). Tiriamuose šaltiniuose rasta daugiau nei du šimtai daiktavardžių ir jų formų, turin- čių tą pačią leksinę ir gramatinę reikšmę, tą pačią morfologinę sandarą, besiskiriančių tik įvairiais akcentinio varijavimo požy- miais: kirčio vieta ir (ar) priegaide, pvz.: derliùs3 Sel, Pvč, Lpln / delius Mr, ksnis (1) Mtl, Sel, Vng, Kbš, Mšn / kąsnỹs4 Jkn, Mšn, Nč ir kt. Šie skirtumai, kaip žinoma, ir lemia žodžių priklausymą skirtingoms akcentinėms paradigmoms, kitaip sakant, to paties žodžio ir (ar) jo formų kirčiavimo variantiškumą, pvz.: kaimýnas (3) Škl, Kbš, Knv, Kpč, Mrc / kaimýnas (1) Ddž, Rud, laum (4) Alv, Al, laums Švnd, Pls, Mšn / laũmė (2) Lpln, laũmė, laũmės Mtl, Vng, žmonà (3), (su) žmóna Mcl, Knv, Rud / (su) žmonà Pvč, Kpč ir kt. (plačiau žr. Mi- liūnaitė 2009, p. 141–143, 174; Ragaišienė 2010, p. 9). Matyti, kad pietų aukštaičių plote dažniausiai dvejopai kirčiuojami to paties kamieno daiktavardžiai. Rankraštiniuose šaltiniuose daugiausia rasta o ir io kamienų žodžių, pvz.: kaklas (2) Kpč, Rod / kaklas (4) Jkn, žvirblỹs5 Dgr, Pvč, Mšn / žvrblis (1) Rtn ir kt., gerokai mažiau aptikta ā ir ē 3 Kirčiuotė nenurodoma, nes iš šaltiniuose pateiktų formų nėra galimybės jos nustatyti. 4 Šaltiniuose nurodytos tik vienaskaitos vardininko formos. 5 Iš rastų vienaskaitos ir daugiskaitos formų kir- čiuotė neaiški. kamienų dvejopai kirčiuojamų daiktavar- džių, pvz.: šatrà (4) Dgr, Nmn / šatrà (2) Rod, žãgrė (2) Mcl, Šlčnk, Ilgn, Šlčn, Vng, Eiš, Pvč, Mrc, Ram / žagr (4) Pčk ir kt., ā, i, u ir u kamienų iš viso užrašyta tik kelio- lika tokios vartosenos atvejų, pvz.: audėjà6 Mtl, Sel, Vng, Mrk / audja (1) Rč, butis (2) Šlčnk, Šlčn / buits (4) Rūd, kimius7 (2) Mtl, Vng, Avž, Švnd, Mcv, Rtn, Škl, Kb / kirmiùs (4) Kbš, Pvč, Čvn, žmogùs (4) Nmn, Jk, Kpč, Rud, Dbč, Rtn, Ram / žmõgus (2) Šlčn, Nmn, Jk, Rud, Dbč, Rtn ir kt. (žr. dar 2 lentelę). Nagrinėjamų daiktavardžių akcentinių variantų atsiradimas gali būti susijęs ir su kamienų sąveika – tos pačios leksinės reikš- mės žodis gali būti visai kito kamieno, pvz.: kándis (1) Mtl / kañdas8 Vng, Mrk / kand (4) Vng, ugns (4) Rūd, Al, Dč, Mtl, Vng / ùgnis (2) Dbč, Lpln / ùgnė (2) Bržl, Plkn, Rūd, Sel, Kurš, Vrn, Pls ir kt., arba tik kai kurie linksniai gali perimti kito kamieno galūnes, pvz.: vags (4), vagiẽs Vng, Lpln / vãgio Plkn, Ilgn, Mšn, vãgys Vng, Rtn / vagia Rūd, Čbt, Jk, Eiš, Vng, Mšn, Pls ir kt. (Ragaišienė 2010, p. 9). Neproduktyviųjų i, u, u ir priebalsinių kamienų žodžiai gali turėti ir paskirų kitų kamienų formų gretybių, pvz.: debess (3b), debesiẽs Plkn / dẽbesio Vng, dẽbesys Mtl / debesia Škl, Mcl, Eiš, lietùs (3), letūs Vng, Brč / lieta Knk, Vng, Kpč, spiečiùs (4), spiečiaũs Brč, Sel, Knk, / spiẽčio Pls, spiẽčius (2) Mtl, Rtn, Jkn / spietỹs9 Kurš, Vėž, šuõ(j), šuvà (4), šuñs Čvn / šunès Plkn, Al, Vrn, Eiš, Drž / šuniẽs Pčk, Nmn / šùnio 6 Šaltiniuose nurodytos tik vienaskaitos vardininko formos. 7 Šio daiktavardžio rankraštiniuose šaltiniuose ras- ta tik vienaskaitos formų. 8 Užrašytos tik vienaskaitos vardininko formos, kirčiuotė nenurodyta. 9 Nurodyta tik vienaskaitos vardininko forma. 223 Bržl, Rūd, Nmn, Kbš, Švnd, Nč ir kt. (žr. dar 2 lentelę). Taigi sukaupti duomenys rodo tuos pa- čius daiktavardžių akcentuacijos polinkius kaip ir vėlesnių garsinių šaltinių medžia- ga (plačiau žr. Ragaišienė 2010, p. 138). Pirma, labiausiai įvairuoja produktyviųjų kamienų, ypač o ir io, žodžių akcentua- cija. Antra, dažniausiai daiktavardžiai turi du akcentinius variantus, t. y. kirčiuojami dvejopai – pagal šakninio ir kilnojamojo kirčiavimo paradigmas. Gana nedidelės apimties rankraštiniuose šaltiniuose rastų variantų gausa rodo, kad pietų aukštaičių plote kirčiavimo variantiš- kumo 6–7 dešimtmetyje būta gana intensy- vaus. Šią prielaidą remia du dalykai. Pirma, dauguma įvairiai kirčiuojamų žodžių formų aptariamuose šaltiniuose paliudytos kelis ar net keliolika kartų, pvz.: kálnas (3) Šlčn, Brč, Mtl, Knv, Sel, Nč / kálnas (1) Mcl, Rtn, Kbš, sūnùs (3), sūna Mcl, Rūd, Jkn, Pčk, Šlčnk, Brč, Ilgn, Knk, Šlčn, Vng, Eiš, Kbš, Knv, Švnd, Mšn, Mcv, Kb, Pls, Nč, Ram / snūs Dg, Skvn, Vng, Vrn, Mrk, varl (4) Vng, Pvč, Švnd, Mšn / valė (2) Kbš, Mcv, Lpln ir kt. Antra, nemažai šių daiktavardžių formų aptikta toje pačioje šnektoje, pvz.: 2 lentelė. Toje pačioje šnektoje rasti daiktavardžių formų kirčiavimo variantai* Kamienas Daiktavardis Pietų aukštaičių šnekta (punkto numeris) o kamienas cigõnas, cigõnai / cigona, Plkn (616) lénkas, lenk / lénkais Škl (615) pdas, pdus / pėdùs Plkn (616), Rud (698) rastai, rastų / raista, raist Knv (690) io kamienas grkis, grkių / griki Vėž (680) dagỹs / dãgis Vng (671) ksnis / kąsnỹs Mšn (695) kivis, kiviai / kirvias Sel (658) kvetis / kviečia Mtl (657) pelis, peliai, peliais / peilia, peilias Vng (671), Rtn (702) ē kamienas búožė / buož Vng (671) u kamienas sõdžius / sodžiùs Vng (671), Mrk (688), Pls (IX) skedžius / skerdžiùs Rč (674) vaisiùs / vasiai Jkn (647a) žvyriaũs / žvýriaus Brč (656) u kamienas tugus / turgaũs Rtn (702) žmogùs / žmõgus Nmn (659), Jk (662), Rud (698), Dbč (699), Rtn (702) u/o kamienai sūnùs, snūs / sūna Vng (671), Vrn (678), Mrk (688) lietùs, letūs / lieta Vng (671) piẽtūs / pieta Vng (671) tugus, tugai / turga Rtn (702) tugus / turga Švnd (694 a) i / io kamienai gailests** / galestis Rč (674) vags, vãgys / vagia Vng (671) Cm / io kamienai šuõ, šuniẽs / šùnio Nmn (659) Cm /o kamienai akmuõ, ãkmenys / akmena Sel (658), Rč (674) piemuõ, pemenys / piemena Plkn (616) vanduõ, vándenys / vandena Sel (658), Rč (674) * Lentelėje nurodyti visi rankraštiniuose šaltiniuose rasti atvejai. ** Giminė nenurodyta. V. Ragaišienė. DAIKTAVARDŽIŲ KIRČIAVIMO POLINKIAI XX A. 6–7 DEŠIMTMEČIO PIETŲ 224 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE galestis / gailests Rč, kvetis / kviečia Mtl ir kt. (daugiau pavyzdžių žr. 2 lentelėje). Analizuojant arealinį kirčiavimo varian- tų paplitimą, pavyko nustatyti du svarbius dalykus. Pirma, daiktavardžiai pietų aukš- taičių šnektose kirčiuojami ne pramaišiui, o pagal vieną kurią akcentinę paradigmą, pvz.: bróliai Dgr, Mr, Rūd, Al, Dg, Čbt, Šlčn, Knv, Mcv, Rod, Ram / brolia Nmn, sodžiùs (4) Mcl, Mtl, Sel, Rč, Ilgn, Avž, Vng, Mrk, Pvč, Švnd, Mšn, Rtn, Kb, Pls / sõdžius (2) Vng, Mrk, Rud, Pls ir kt. Antra, iš toje pačioje šnektoje ar visame plote vartojamų dviejų kirčiavimo variantų vienas yra pagrindinis, kitas – gretiminis, pavyzdžiui, Vingrėnų ir Ratnyčios šnektose daiktavardžio pelis šaknyje kirčiuojamos daugiskaitos formos peliai, pelių, peliais užrašytos kelis kartus, galūninio kirčiavimo formos peilia ir peilias paliudytos tik po vieną kartą. Lingvistinėje literatūroje vyriškosios gi- minės daiktavardžių akcentinių paradigmų įvairavimas, plg. árklais Eiš / arklas Dbč, visų pirma siejamas su kuopine daugiskaita (Mikulėnienė 1996, p. 148–153, 2005, p. 164–166; Lazauskaitė-Ragaišienė 2000, p. 162, 2008, p. 46; Tuomienė 2001, p. 103–114, 2005, p. 59–72; Leskauskaitė 2006, p. 38–39; Ragaišienė 2010, p. 44). Šią prielaidą remia ir rankraštinių šaltinių medžiaga. Juose aptikta keliolika kuopine reikšme pavartotų daugiskaitos formų su -(i)a, pvz.: g r i k i a  be grūdų, sausra nude- gino Pčk; mirė moma seniai, jau ir k a u l a  papuvo Šlčnk; t u r t  svetimų man nereikia Ddž; paskui užlipę an to kūgio su k i r v i a  s tuos pėdus iškapojo Sel; t r a k t o r i a  plėšia raistus Mšn ir kt. Iš pateiktų pavyzdžių ma- tyti, kad galūnėje kirčiuojamoms formoms būdinga specifinė semantika, t. y. jos žymi neskaidomą visumą, įvardija daiktų kuopą, reiškia jų sankaupą. Kuopinė daugiskaita, ko gero, lėmusi ir oksitoninį daiktavardžių, įvardijančių asmenis pagal tautybę, daugiskaitos for- mų kirtį, pvz.: angla Mcl, guda Dgr, Rūd, Mtl, Knv, Mšn, Drž, Kb, Pls, Ram, lenka Mcl, lenk Ddž, Pls, lenkas Mtl, rusa Mcl, Pls, šveda Rod, taip pat latvia Brč, Vrn, lietuvia Šlčn, Eiš, vok(i)ečia Mtl, Rod ir kt. (žr. plačiau Ragaišienė 2010, p. 45). Šių žodžių pastovaus kirčiavimo formos tiria- muose šaltiniuose aptiktos tik kelios, pvz.: lénkai Šlčn, Spg, rùsai Ddž, Pls. Iš sukauptos medžiagos matyti, kad nurodytų daikta- vardžių galūninio ir šakninio kirčiavimo formos įvardija ne tik tautas, bet ir atskirus jų narius. Pabrėžtina, kad rankraštiniuose šaltiniuose ne tik šių, bet ir kitų žodžių iš viso neaptikta pavyzdžių, liudijančių semantinį daugiskaitos formų skirtumą. Šaknyje ir galūnėje kirčiuojamos formos gali būti vartojamos ir kuopine reikšme, ir įvardyti atskirus daiktus ar asmenis, pvz.: arė žmonės á r k l a i s mediniais Eiš / kadaise arėm mes mediniais a r k l a  s Dbč, tam kaime gyveno vieni l é n k a i Spg / atjojo trys lenka Mcl, ž v i r b l i a  lesa uogas, reikia vaikyt Dgr / žvr b l i a i užpuolė vyšnias, baigia nuryt Rtn ir kt. Iš pateiktų pavyzdžių matyti, kad pietų aukštaičių plote paprastosios ir kuopinės daugiskaitos priešprieša neišlaikyta. Taigi buvus dviejų daugiskaitų – pa- prastosios ir kuopinės – akcentinį ir seman- tinį modelį dabar gali liudyti tik toje pačioje šnektoje dvejopai – kamiene ir galūnėje – kirčiuojamos daiktavardžių formos su -(i)a, pvz.: cigõnai / cigona Plkn, pelis, peliai / peilia Vng, Rtn, tugus, tugai / turga Rtn ir kt. Tačiau tokios vartosenos atvejai nėra labai dažni. Paprastai šnektose vartojamas 225 vienas iš variantų, pvz.: grikia Kurš, griki Pčk / grkiai Knv, grkių Mcl, Rūd, Kb, káulai Rūd, Nmn, káulų Jk / kaula, kaul Ram, rakta Čbt, rakt Dbč, raktas Dgr / rãktai Brč, turga Jkn, Mtl, Ilgn, Kbš, Pvč, Švnd, Mšn, Rud, Dbč, Nč / tugai Sel, Vng, Rč ir kt. Tokios vartosenos pavyzdžiai remia prielaidą, kad išnykus semantiniam dviejų daugiskaitos variantų skirtumui akcentinė jų priešprieša ilgainiui buvo apibendrinta vieno arba kito nario naudai (žr. plačiau Stundžia 1981, p. 192; Lazauskaitė-Ragai- šienė 2009, p. 172; Ragaišienė 2010, p. 45). Kuopinė daugiskaita galėjo lemti ir na- grinėjamų daiktavardžių polinkį į oksitone- zę – daugiskaitos galūninio kirčiavimo mo- delio kai kuriose šnektose apibendrinimą, pvz.: bebra, guda, kluona, rakta, žvirblia, žvirbli Dgr, angla, lenka, botaga, lydeka Mcl, grikia, rusa, turga, vaistas, valgyma Kurš, jaunum, gražum, karkla, rakta, šveda Mžn ir kt. Iš sukauptos medžiagos matyti, kad visame pietų aukštaičių plote labiau paplitusios oksitoninio kirčiavimo formos, t. y. jos sudaro beveik du treč- dalius visų užrašytų atvejų. Priesagų -ėja, -ynas, -tuvas ir kt. vedinių, pvz.: audėjà (3), beržýnas (3), šáutuvas (3a) ir kt., galima sa- kyti, apibendrinta kilnojamojo kirčiavimo paradigma. Ne tik produktyviųjų kamienų (homo- niminių formų egzistavimo ir morfo(no)- loginio paradigmos išlyginimo), bet ir kuopinės daugiskaitos, ko gero, nulemtas i, u, u ir priebalsinių kamienų daiktavardžių daugiskaitos formų su -(i)a atsiradimas ir vyraujantis oksitoninis kirtis, pvz.: akmena Dg, Sel, Šlčn, Vėž, Kbš, Ram, piemena Škl, Mcl, Jkn, Ilgn, Kurš, Knk, Vng, Rč, Vėž, Ddž, Mrk, Mšn, Rud, Dbč, Nč, Ram, pusnia Rč, Mtl, pieta Jkn, Brč, Sel, Ilgn, Kurš, Šlčn, Vng, Kbš, Mrk, Pvč, Mšn ir kt. Iš pateiktų pavyzdžių matyti, kad aptariamų daiktavar- džių daugiskaitai būdinga linksniavimo ir akcentinių paradigmų neutralizacija, plg. dar tugus (2), turga Jkn, Mtl, Ilgn, Kbš, Pvč, Švnd, Mšn, Rud, Dbč, Nč ir kt. (Ragaišienė 2010, p. 107, 119). Taigi nemažą poveikį šiuo atveju turėjo ir produktyviųjų kamienų kirčiavimo analogija. Iš kuopinės daugiskaitos formų (Miku- lėnienė 2005, p. 156, 165) ar net oksitoni- nio kirčiavimo (Kuzavinis, Girdenis 1997, p. 76–77) gali būti kilusios ir galūnėje kirčiuojamos akūtinės šaknies vienaskaitos įnagininko ir (ar) daugiskaitos galininko formos, pvz.: langùs Dč, ožiù Alv, Kpč / ožiùs Kpč ir kt. (daugiau pavyzdžių žr. 3 lentelėje). Bent dalis nagrinėjamų atve- jų gali būti gana seni (Kazlauskas 1968, p. 35–36; Markevičienė 1999, p. 32; Mi- kulėnienė 2005, p. 166; Ragaišienė 2010, p. 54). Juolab kad daugumai daiktavardžių su įvairuojančia vienaskaitos įnagininko ir (ar) daugiskaitos galininko akcentuacija nuo seno būdinga kilnojamojo kirčiavimo paradigma, pvz.: grdas (plg. la. grûds, graûds „grūdas“)10, lángas (plg. la. luôgs)11, ožỹs (plg. la. âzis)12, pdas (la. pda „glėbys, gabana, sauja“)13, vėžỹs (plg. la. vêzis)14, 10 Žr. (ME I 639; Skardžius 1935, p. 15). Lie. grdas laikytinas galūnės -as vediniu ir sietinas su veiksmažodžiu grsti, grda, grdo (Pokorny 1959, p. 406; Fraenkel 1962, p. 173; Ambrazas 1993, p. 104; Smoczyński 2007, p. 205). 11 Plg. dar pr. lanxto (Trautmann 1910, p. 368; Fraenkel 1962, p. 339; Toporov 1990, p. 75). 12 Plg. dar pr. nosux „ožys“, pr. wosel „ožka“, skr. ajáḥ „ožys“, aj „ožka“, vid. pers. azak „ožka“ kt. (Fraenkel 1962, p. 519; Pokorny 1959, p. 6–7; Ambra- zas 2000, p. 73; Smoczyński 2007, p. 434). 13 Žr. (ME III 206; Fraenkel 1962, p. 521, 561–563; Pokorny 1959, p. 790–792). 14 Žr. (ME IV 574; Skardžius 1935, p. 15; Fraenkel 1965, p. 1235–1236; Smoczyński 2007, p. 746). V. Ragaišienė. DAIKTAVARDŽIŲ KIRČIAVIMO POLINKIAI XX A. 6–7 DEŠIMTMEČIO PIETŲ 226 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE žaltỹs (plg. la. zaktis)15 ir kt. Sinchroniniu požiūriu šie galūninio kirčiavimo atvejai gali būti laikomi ir akcentiniu paradigmos išlyginimu, plg. žiedù, žiedùs ir žieda (Mi- kulėnienė 1996, p. 152, 2005, p. 165, 196; Lazauskaitė-Ragaišienė 2008, p. 47, 2009, p. 174; Ragaišienė 2010, p. 54). Dauguma žodžių, turintys aptariamų linksnių oksito- ninių formų, yra trečiosios kirčiuotės (žr. 3 lentelę). Atkreiptinas dėmesys ir į tai, kad galūnėje kirčiuojamų nurodytų linksnių formų daugiausia rasta daiktavardžių, kurių kamieno pagrindą sudaro ilgieji balsiai y, 15 Žr. (ME IV 685; Skardžius 1935, p. 15; Fraenkel 1965, p. 1288; Smoczyński 2007, p. 773). ū, o, ė ir dvibalsiai ie, uo (žr. 3 lentelę). Tikėtina, kad vienaskaitos įnagininko ir daugiskaitos galininko formų galūninis kirtis gali būti nulemtas ir morfo(no)lo- ginių veiksnių (Mikulėnienė 1996–1997, p. 60–61). Iš pateiktų duomenų matyti, kad dau- gumos daiktavardžių galūninio kirčiavimo formos aptinkamos retai – daugeliu atvejų užrašytos tik vienoje šnektoje vieną arba du kartus (žr. 3 lentelę). Jos dažniausiai vartojamos kaip gretiminės šalia vyrau- jančių kamieninio kirčiavimo variantų, pavyzdžiui, Šalčininkų ir Kibyšių šnektose forma árklius aptikta kelis kartus, o gretybė arkliùs paliudyta tik po vieną kartą. 3 lentelė. Akūtinio kamieno daiktavardžių galūnėje kirčiuojamos vienaskaitos įnagininko ir daugiskaitos galininko formos Daiktavardis Vienaskaitos įnagininko formos Daugiskaitos galininko formos 1 k i r č i u o t ė brólis broliùs Kbš (687) penas pienù Pls (IX) púodas puodùs Kurš (664) výras vyrù Dgr (575) vyrùs Mr (593) 3 k i r č i u o t ė beržýnas beržynùs Rūd (634) grdas grūdùs Pls (IX) lángas langùs Dč (650) lénkas lenkùs Knk (665) mšlas mėšlù Dgr (575), Škl (615) pdas pėdùs Plkn (616), Sel (658), Rud (698) stógas stogùs Pls (IX) súolas suolùs Nč (VII) tvas tėvù Vrn (678) žedas žiedù Kpč (693) žiedùs Dbč (699), Kb (704) arklỹs arkliùs Šlčn (666), Kbš (687) grėblỹs grėbliù Šlčn (666) ožỹs ožiù Alv (645)*, Kpč (693) ožiùs Kpč (693) vėžỹs vėžiùs Dgr (575) sūnùs sūnùs Škl (615) ožkà ožkà Alv (645), Kpč (693) ožkàs Rtn (702) žmonà žmonà Pvč (689), Kpč (693), Rud (698) žmonàs Pls (IX) giesm giesmès Jk (662), Knk (665), Nč (VII) * Forma Alovės šnektos rankraštyje paliudyta tris kartus. 227 Rankraštinių šaltinių medžiaga rodo dar vieną anksčiau kalbininkų nepastebėtą dalyką – keleriopai kirčiuojamų formų pa- plitimo pietų aukštaičių plote arealines skir- tybes. Akivaizdu, kad dvejopai kirčiuojamų formų, pvz.: žmogùs / žmõgus Nmn, Jk, Rud, Dbč, Rtn ir kt., toje pačioje šnektoje daugiausia rasta pietvakarinėje ir pietinėje ploto dalyje (žr. 2 lentelę ir 1 pav.)16. Iš žemėlapyje pateiktų duomenų matyti, kad pietvakarinis arealas yra gana vientisas. Jį sudaro vienas greta kito esantys septyni gyvenamieji punktai – Vingrėnai, Barčiai, Meteliai, Ročkiai, Avižieniai, Seiliūnai ir Nemunaitis. Pastebėtina, kad dalis šio area- lo (Vingrėnų, Avižienių ir Ročkių šnektos) priklauso pietų aukštaičių variantiškumo centru laikomam plotui (žr. Ragaišienė 16 Pietų aukštaičių gyvenamųjų punktų žemėlapyje teikiami tik numeriai. 2010, p. 139). Pietinis arealas aptariamo reiškinio tokio vientiso ploto nesudaro, bet vienas netoli kito esantys du šnektų telkiniai (Švendubrė, Mašnyčia, Ratnyčia ir Dubičiai, Rudnia, Kaniava) rodo galėjus jį būti (žr. 1 pav.). Nevienodai tiriamų šnektų plote papli- tusios ir galūnėje kirčiuojamos vienaskaitos įnagininko bei daugiskaitos galininko for- mos (žr. 1 pav.). Šių linksnių oksitoninio kirčiavimo gretybės dažniau aptinkamos pietinėse ir rytinėse šnektose. Jos kon- centruojasi palyginti nedideliame plote, apytikriai keturkampyje Ratnyčia, Kabeliai, Šalčininkai ir Rūdninkai. Kas kita – variantiškumo, kaip reiškinio, intensyvumas. Akivaizdu, kad aptariamų variantų toje pačioje šnektoje daugiausia užrašyta iš pietvakarinės ploto dalies, t. y. Vingrėnų, Metelių ir Seiliūnų šnektų, tačiau 1 pav. Keleriopai kirčiuojamų formų paplitimas pietų aukštaičių plote V. Ragaišienė. DAIKTAVARDŽIŲ KIRČIAVIMO POLINKIAI XX A. 6–7 DEŠIMTMEČIO PIETŲ Pav. Dvejopai kirčiuojamų daiktavardžių formų paplitimas toje pačioje šnektoje  bròliai / broliai̇̃, lénkai / lenkai̇̃, žmõgus / žmogùs  arkliùs, giesmès, mėšlù, žmonà, žmonàs... 228 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE jų gausu ir, pavyzdžiui, Paluknio šnektoje, kuri priklauso tiriamo ploto šiaurrytiniam arealui (žr. 2 lentelę ir 1 pav.). Vis dėlto nereikėtų daryti apibendrinančių išvadų, nes sukauptos medžiagos nepakanka (kaip minėta, duomenys surinkti ne iš visų tiria- mojo ploto šnektų, rankraštiniai šaltiniai palyginti nedidelės apimties) variantiškumo intensyvumui nustatyti. Regis, rankraštinių šaltinių autoriai buvo atkreipę dėmesį į pietų aukštaičių šnektose keleriopai kirčiuojamus žodžius ir jų formas. Pirmiausia tai rodo tyrėjų pateik- tos pastabos dėl kirčiuotų ilgųjų balsių y, ū, o, ė ir dvibalsių ie, uo priegaidės. Rankrašti- niuose šaltiniuose nurodyta, kad išvardytų ilgųjų kirčiuotų balsių ir dvibalsių skiemens priegaidė ne visada aiški. Tai aiškinta pačių šnektos tyrėjų prastu priegaidžių skyrimu, taip pat sieta su tarmės atstovų greitu kal- bėjimo būdu (žr. Šklėrių šnektos rankraštį). Rankraštiniuose šaltiniuose aptariamais atvejais vietoj tvirtapradės (rečiau – tvirta- galės) priegaidės žymima vidurinė, pvz.: brliu Škl, ksnis Mtl, kulai Sel, mterė Škl, rstai Sel, židus Škl ir kt. Tokiam duomenų pateikimui nemažai įtakos, ko gero, turėjo ir požiūris kirčiuočių mišimą laikyti prie- gaidžių niveliacijos rezultatu (Kazlauskas 1968, p. 14), ne tik šnektų medžiagos rinkėjų nesugebėjimas skirti ilgųjų balsių y, ū, o, ė ir dvibalsių ie, uo priegaides (Zin- kevičius 1974, p. 93). Taigi, galima sakyti, kad XX a. 6–7 dešimtmetyje susiformavo vidurinės priegaidės aptariamais atvejais žymėjimo tradicija, kurios neatsisakyta iki šiol. Baigiamosios pastabos Atliktas pietų aukštaičių šnektų rankrašti- nių šaltinių medžiagos tyrimas patvirtina, kad keleriopai kirčiuojamų daiktavardžių ir jų formų egzistavimas kalbininkų pa- grįstai siejamas su kuopine daugiskaita, tiksliau, akcentiniu ir semantiniu dviejų daugiskaitų – paprastosios ir kuopinės – modeliu. Neabejotina ir tai, kad kai kuriais atvejais nemažą įtaką gali turėti kamienų sąveikos veiksniai (homoniminių formų egzistavimas, morfo(no)loginis paradigmos išlyginimas, sistemos atitikties ir kt.) ir pro- duktyviųjų kamienų kirčiavimo analogija. Susiejus akcentinius variantus su jų paplitimu, susidarė tikslesnis vaizdas apie daiktavardžių kirčiavimo polinkius pietų aukštaičių plote XX a. 6–7 dešimtmety- je, paaiškėjo žodžių vartosenos ypatumai paskirose šnektose. Tiriamoji medžiaga patvirtino prielaidas, kad daiktavardžių kirčiavimo paradigmų įvairavimas ir ke- leriopai kirčiuojamų formų egzistavimas pietų aukštaičių plote nėra naujas reiški- nys ar tarmės akcentinės sistemos nykimo požymis. Nustatytas keleriopai kirčiuojamų daik- tavardžių formų koncentratas pietvakarinė- je ir pietinėje ploto dalyje skatina ir toliau gilintis į šio reiškinio priežastis bei ieškoti naujų jo atsiradimo motyvų. 229 Literatūra AMBRAZAS, S., 1993. Daiktavardžių darybos raida. 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Dviskiemenių o ir io kamienų daiktavardžių kirčiavimo variantų paplitimas pietų aukštaičių ir rytų aukštaičių vilniškių šnektose. In: Garsas ir jo tyrimo aspektai: metodologija ir praktika. Vilnius: Lietuvių kalbos institutas, 161–181. LESKAUSKAITĖ, A., 2006. Šnektos plotas ir svarbiausios ypatybės. In: Kučiūnų krašto šnektos tekstai. Vilnius: Lietuvių kalbos institutas, 26–67. Lietuvių kalbos atlasas 1, 1971. Leksika. Vil- nius: Mokslas. Lietuvių kalbos atlasas 2, 1982. Fonetika. Vilnius: Mokslas. Lietuvių kalbos atlasas 3, 1991. Morfologija. Vilnius: Mokslas. Lietuvių kalbos atlaso medžiagos rinkimo pro- grama, 1958. 2-asis leidimas. Vilnius: Valstybinė politinės ir mokslinės literatūros leidykla. MARKEVIČIENĖ, Ž., 1999. Įvadas. In: Aukštaičių tarmių tekstai, 1. Vilnius: Vilniaus universiteto leidykla, 11–34. ME, 1923–1932. I, III–IV. MÜLENBACHA, K. Latviešu valodas vārdnīca, 1, 3–4. Rediējis papildinājis, turpinājis J[ānis] Endzelīns. Rīgā: Izglītības ministerija. MIKULĖNIENĖ, D., 1996. Dėl links niuo ja- mų jų žo džių kir čia vi mo va rian tų pie ti nė se aukš- tai čių tar mė se. Lie tu vių kal bo ty ros klau si mai, 36, 148–155. MIKULĖNIENĖ, D., 1996–1997. Einwickung der slawischen Sprachen auf die Lautstruktur der peripheren litauischen Mundarten. Linguistica Baltica, 5–6, 57–67. MIKULĖNIENĖ, D., 2005. Cirkumfleksinė metatonija lie tu vių kal bos var da žo di niuo se daik- ta vardžiuo se ir jos kilmė. Vilnius: Lietuvių kalbos instituto leidykla. MILIŪNAITĖ, R., 2009. Dabartinės lietuvių kalbos vartosenos variantai. Vilnius: Lietuvių kalbos institutas. POKORNY, J., 1959. Indogermanisches etymologisches Wörterbuch. Bern und München: Francke Verlag. RAGAIŠIENĖ, V., 2010. Linksniuojamųjų žodžių kirčiavimo variantai pietų aukštaičių ir rytų aukštaičių vilniškių tarmėse. Daktaro disertacija. Vilnius: Vytauto Didžiojo universitetas, Lietuvių kalbos institutas. SKARDŽIUS, P., 1935. Daukšos akcentologija. Kaunas: V.D.U. 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KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE Vilija Ragaišienė Institute of the Lithuanian Language, Lithuania Research interests: accentology, dialectology, lexicography TENDENCIES IN NOUN STRESS IN THE SOUTHERN AUKŠTAITIAN SUBDIALECTS IN HANDWRITTEN SOURCES OF THE 1950s AND 1960s Summary The article deals with variously stressed nouns that were discovered in the 1950s and 1960s in handwritten sources of the southern Aukštainian subdialects in the archive of dialects of the Lan- guage History and Dialectology Department of the Institute of the Lithuanian Language. Data on the nouns and noun forms of the southern Aukštaitians, collected from almost the entire area under study, i.e., fifty-five inhabited settlements, demonstrate two tendencies: stress variance and oxytogenesis. Summarising the collected data, it was es- tablished that nouns with the same stem (o, io, ā, ē, ā, i, u and u) are most often stressed in two ways in the southern Aukštaitian area, e.g., kaklas (2/4), žmogùs (4) / žmõgus (2), and others. Words with non-productive i, u, u and consonant stems can also have separate parallels with other stems, or parallel forms of other separate stems, e.g.: vags (4), sing. gen. vagiẽs / vãgio, cf. nom. vãgys / vagia, šuvà (4), sing. gen. šuñs / šunès / šuniẽs / šùnio, etc. The abundance of the variants discovered in these handwritten sources of rather small volume demonstrates the intensity of stress variance in the southern Aukštaitian area in the 1950s and 1960s, which is corroborated by two facts. First, most of the forms of the words with variable stress in the sources under study appear several or even many times. Second, quite a few forms of such nouns were discovered within the same subdialect. Despite all this, nouns in the southern Aukštai- tian subdialects are not stressed interchangeably, but according to one accentual paradigm. From two stress variants used in the subdialects, one is Vilija Ragaišienė Instytut Języka Litewskiego, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: akcentologia, dialek- tologia, leksykografia AKCENTOWANIE RZECZOWNIKÓW W RĘKOPIŚMIENNYCH ŹRÓDŁACH GWA- ROWYCH Z OBSZARU POŁUDNIOWEJ AUKSZTOTY Z LAT 50.–60. XX WIEKU Streszczenie Niniejszy artykuł omawia rzeczowniki występujące w kilku wariantach akcentowych, odnotowane w rękopiśmiennych źródłach gwarowych z obszaru południowej Auksztoty z lat 50.–60. XX wieku. Źródła te są przechowywane w Archiwum Gwar Zakładu Historii Języka i Dialektologii Instytutu Języka Litewskiego. Artykuł ma na celu określenie tendencji w akcentowaniu tych rzeczowników, ustalenie ich zasięgu geograficznego oraz skali zjawiska. Mnogość wariantów odnotowanych w źród- łach rękopiśmiennych (ponad dwieście wyrazów) dowodzi, że w latach 50.–60. XX wieku na obsza- rze południowej Auksztoty istniała dość duża wa- riantywność akcentowa. Większość akcentowanych na różne sposoby form wyrazowych występuje w omawianych źródłach po kilka czy nawet kilka- naście razy. Rozprzestrzenienie się oboczności fonetycznych rzeczowników jest charakterystyczne dla całego obszaru południowej Auksztoty, jednak częstotliwość ich występowania nie jest jednakowa. W południowo-zachodniej i południowej części obszaru stwierdzono więcej form akcentowanych na dwa sposoby, np. rastai, rastų / raista, raist, natomiast w gwarach południowych i wschodnich częściej występują oboczności rdzenia akutowego w narzędniku liczby pojedynczej i akcentu oksyto- nicznego w bierniku liczby mnogiej, np. žedas (3), žiedù, žiedùs. Szczegółowa analiza danych wska- zuje, że w gwarach południowoauksztockich rze- czowniki są akcentowane nie wymiennie, a według któregoś jednego paradygmatu akcentuacyjnego. Z dwóch wariantów akcentowych stosowanych w tej samej gwarze lub na całym obszarze jeden jest główny, inny zaś – poboczny. 231 main, the other a parallel variant. The nouns in the handwritten sources are stressed in two ways, most often according to the paradigms of stem and mobile accentuation, e.g., bróliai / brolia, sõdžius (2) / sodžiùs (4), etc. The appearance of nouns with dual stress in the southern Aukštaitian subdialects and the tendency towards oxytogenesis are primarily related to the accentual and semantic models of two plurals, simple and collective, which are being reconstructed, e.g., pelis, pl. peliai / collect. pl. peilia. The stress on the singular instrumental en- dings and/or of the plural accusative forms of nouns with acute stems might also be related to the collective plural. The existence of such forms can be determined by the levelling of the accentual paradigm, cf., pėda, pėd, pėdám(s), pėdùs, pėdas. The possibility that the discussed forms could have been inherited, i.e., could have originated from the oxytonic paradigm, should not be discounted. Undoubtedly, noun accentuation might have been influenced by the factors of stem interaction: the existence of homonymous forms, levelling of the morpho(no)logic paradigm, the conformity of the system, etc. There is also no doubt that the accentuation analogue had an influence as well (especially that of productive stems on unpro- ductive ones). KEY WORDS: accentual variant, stress vari- ance, oxytogenesis, simple and collective plural, stem. Materiały pochodzące ze źródeł rękopiśmien- nych potwierdzają przesłanki językoznawców, że pojawienie się w gwarach południowej Auksztoty form rzeczownikowych akcentowanych na dwa sposoby oraz skłonność do oksytonezy należy przede wszystkich wiązać z rekonstruowanym modelem akcentuacyjnym i semantycznym dwóch liczb mnogich – prostej i zbiorowej, np. pelis, lmn. peliai / zbior. lmn. peilia. Zgromadzone dane potwierdzają także tezę, że o sposobie akcento- wania rzeczowników mogło decydować wzajemne oddziaływanie rdzeni – istnienie form homoni- micznych, wyrównanie paradygmatu morfo(no) logicznego, zgodności systemowej i in. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: wariant akcentowy, akcentowanie wariantywne, oksytoneza, liczba mnoga prosta i zbiorowa, rdzeń. Gauta 2012 01 09 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 V. Ragaišienė. DAIKTAVARDŽIŲ KIRČIAVIMO POLINKIAI XX A. 6–7 DEŠIMTMEČIO PIETŲ 232 Dalia Sviderskienė Lietuvių kalbos institutas Vardyno skyrius P. Vileišio g. 5, LT–10308 Vilnius, Lietuva Tel. +370 5 26 38 171 El. paštas dalia_sviderskiene@lki.lt; daliasviderskiene@gmail.com Moksliniai interesai: onomastika, tikrinių žodžių darybos, kilmės tyrimai TARPUKARIU UŽRAŠYTŲ MARIJAMPOLĖS APSKRITIES VIETOVARDŽIŲ TYRIMO PRADINIAI REZULTATAI IR PERSPEKTYVOS Straipsnio tikslas – pristatyti kelerius metus nuosekliai vykdomus pietinio lietuvių kalbos ploto – Marijampolės apskrities – tarpukariu užrašytų vietovardžių tyrimus darybos ir kilmės požiūriu. Be to, skelbiama keletas šios medžiagos tyrimo rezultatų vandenvardžių, kitų (as- menvardinės kilmės) vietovardžių klasėse ir kt. Tai leidžia pastebėti, kad išlikusios anketos, jų autentiški duomenys, yra ne tik kaip atskiras svarbus tarpukario palikimo vienetas, jos vertingos ir kaip šaltinis, kuriame pasitaiko užfiksuotų faktų, dabartinėse sankaupose jau neišlikusių arba gerokai pakitusių. Siekiant susidaryti išsamų vaizdą apie Marijampolės apskrities vietovardžių darybos ir kilmės ypatumus, arealinį tyrimą būtina tęsti. Manoma, kad vykdomi darbai ne tik skatins regioninę toponimiką, darybos, kilmės analizę, išliks svarbūs tolesniems lietuvių toponimikos tyrimams, bet bus įdomūs ir etnologams ar kitų sričių tyrėjams. Jie padės geriau pažinti šiame areale gyvenusių žmonių mentalitetą, pasaulėjautą. Tiriamame lietuvių kalbos plote tarpukariu užrašyti vietovardžiai galėtų suteikti informacijos ir apie išnykusios baltų genties – jotvingių – oniminio substrato pėdsakus. REIKŠMINIAI ŽODŽIAI: arealiniai tyrimai, tarpukario laikotarpis, bendrinis žodis (apeliatyvas), tikrinis žodis (onimas), vietovardis (toponimas), asmenvardis (antroponimas), pamatinis žodis (etimonas), tikrinių žodžių daryba, kilmė. Įvadas Lietuvių kalbos institute (toliau – LKI) saugomi unikalūs tarpukario Lietuvoje ir po karo sukaupti vietovardžių ištekliai. Viena vertingiausių moksliniu požiūriu medžiaga – ketvirtajame praėjusio šimt- mečio dešimtmetyje užrašyti vietovar- džiai. Tai Švietimo ministerijos Valstybės archeologijos komisijos iniciatyva surinkti vietų vardai. Šiam darbui buvo parengta Instrukcija Lietuvos žemės vardynui surašy- ti1 (toliau – Instrukcija), kurios nuostatos bei reikalavimai vietovardžių rinkėjams nepasikeitė iki mūsų dienų. Visos Lietuvos pradinių mokyklų mokytojams bei girinin- kams (manant, kad kaip tik šių profesijų asmenys geriausiai galės atlikti numatytą 1 Joje yra apibūdinta vietovardžių svarba, aiškina- ma, kokių vietų vardus užrašyti, teigiama, kas tai turėtų daryti, ir mokoma, kaip rinkti ir užrašyti vietovardžius (Alminauskis 1934). 233 darbą) buvo išsiuntinėti specialiai šiam reikalui parengti ir išspausdinti žinių lapai „Žemės vardai“ ir Instrukcija. Mokytojai ir girininkai kelerius metus (ypač 1935–1937 m.) užrašinėjo vieto- vardžius iš gyvosios kalbos. Užpildytus „Žemės vardų“ lapus grąžino Valstybės archeologijos komisijai. Šie yra išlikę iki mūsų dienų ir saugomi LKI Vardyno sky- riaus fonduose. Manant, kad tarpukariu surinkta me- džiaga yra viena vertingiausių moksliniu požiūriu, nepaliesta išorinių veiksnių (melioracijos, kolektyvizacijos, rusinimo, trėmimų) ir gali suteikti vertingos infor- macijos apie bet kurio Lietuvos regiono vietų vardus, buvo pasirinkta tam tikra lietuvių kalbos ploto dalis2, pradėti vertinti ir skirstyti čia užrašyti vietovardžiai. Pirmiausiai visi apskrities vietovardžiai pagal įvardijamų objektų rūšį autorės buvo suskirstyti į tris stambias grupes: vanden- vardžius, gyvenamųjų vietų vardus ir že- mėvardžius. Vandenvardžių grupėje šalia upių, upelių, ežerų vardų buvo nagrinėjami ir kiti tekančių hidroobjektų (griovių) bei telkšančių, užpelkėjusių ar kitų šlapių vietų (balų, raistų) vardai. Į antrąją grupę pateko tiek oficialūs (fiksuoti norminiame oficia- liajai vartosenai skirtame Lietuvos TSR administracinio-teritorinio suskirstymo žiny- ne, 2 d. (toliau – ATSŽ II)), tiek neoficialūs (dvarų, palivarkų, kaimo dalių, sodybų ir kt.) gyvenamųjų vietų vardai. Į trečiąją, gausiausią grupę, buvo suburti įvairių kitų žemės paviršiaus objektų (arimų, dirbamų 2 Buvo pasirinkti Marijampolės apskrities vieto- vardžiai, užrašyti trylikoje valsčių: Balbieriškio, Gu- delių, Igliškėlių, Kalvarijos, Kazlų Rūdos, Krosnos, Liubavo, Liudvinavo, Marijampolės, Prienų, Sasnavos, Šilavoto ir Veiverių. Kiekvienos valsčiaus gyvenamo- sios vietos vietovardžiams skirta po anketą. žemių, dirvų, ganyklų, kalnų, kelių, laukų, miškų, pievų ir kt.) vardai. Jie sąlygiškai vadinami žemėvardžiais3, manant, kad šis terminas geriausiai apibūdina žemės reljefo tikrinius vardus – tiek stambesnius (drimo- nimus, oronimus ir kt.), tiek smulkesnius (agronimus, dromonimus ir kt.). Pastarie- siems vietovardžiams pavadinti tradiciškai kuriami lietuviški ir tarptautiniai terminai. Taip išlaikoma terminų sistema, išvengiama geografinių vietų, kurioms suteikiamas terminas, išvardijimo. Pavyzdžiui, aptariant vieno vietovardžių poklasio, įvardijan- čio tam tikrus panašius žemės paviršiaus objektus (miškus, šilus, girias, jų dalis ar pan.; aukštumas, kalvas, piliakalnius ir kitus reljefo pakilesnių formų objektų vardus), nuosekliai vartojami terminai drimonmas (drimoni̇̀̀mai), oroni̇̀mas (oroni̇̀mai); pri- reikus sinonimiškai vartojami terminai mišk varda, kaln varda, vietóvardžiai, toponmai. Darybiškai tiriant visų toponimų klasių (poklasių) vienetus, pritaikoma Aleksandro Vanago vandenvardžių darybai tirti suda- ryta struktūrinė-gramatinė klasifikacija4. Pagal ją pirmiausia aptariami pirminiai ir daugiskaitiniai vietovardžiai, po jų – visi antriniai galūnių, priesagų, priešdėlių vedi- niai, sudurtiniai ir sudėtiniai vietovardžiai. Kilmės požiūriu visi vietovardžiai buvo skiriami į kilusius iš bendrinių žodžių (ape- liatyvų), asmenvardžių (antroponimų) ir kitų vietovardžių (toponimų). Tokiu būdu buvo siekta išsiaiškinti tarpukario laikotar- piu iš gyvosios kalbos užrašytų vietovardžių darybos ir kilmės polinkius. Šiame straipsnyje, parengtame tarptau- tinėje mokslinėje konferencijoje „Regio- 3 Dėl termino žr. Jonikas 1990, p. 563. 4 Žr. Vanagas 1970, p. 21–27. D. Sviderskienė. TARPUKARIU UŽRAŠYTŲ MARIJAMPOLĖS APSKRITIES VIETOVARDŽIŲ... 234 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE ninė onomastika: ką sužinome iš vardyno“ (Kaunas, 2011 m. lapkričio 10–11 d.) skaityto pranešimo pagrindu, pristatomi kelerius metus vykdomi Marijampolės aps- krities tarpukariu „Žemės vardų“ anketose užrašytų vietovardžių tyrimai. Pirmojoje straipsnio dalyje skelbiami svarbiausi atlie- kamo tyrimo rezultatai; antrojoje dalyje – numatomi ateities darbai. Tyrimo rezultatai Vykdant pradėtus darbus, nustatyti atskirų klasių (miškų5, kalnų vardų6) darybos bruo- žai, kilmės tendencijos, atlikti kai kurių klasių dalies toponimų tyrimai (neoficialių gyvenamųjų vietų vardų7, apeliatyvinės kilmės žemėvardžių8), ištirti dviejų vals- 5 Dėl jų plačiau žr. Dalia Sviderskienė 2006, p. 49–62. Gauti rezultatai buvo palyginti su kito arealo – šiaurės vidurio Lietuvos (Telšių rajono) – miškų vardų tyrimo išvadomis; taip išryškėjo arealiniai drimonimų darybos skirtumai. 6 Kilmės požiūriu tarpukario Lietuvos Marijam- polės apskrities vieno darybos būdo kalnų vardai (dūri- niai) autorės ištirti ir aprašyti (plačiau žr. Sviderskienė 2006a, p. 47–59). Kiti šių vietovardžių tyrimo duome- nys bei analizės rezultatai artimiausiu metu bus skelbia- mi mokslo straipsniais leidinyje Lituanistica. 7 Dėl neoficialių gyvenamųjų vietų vardų anali- zės darybos ir kilmės aspektu žr. Sviderskienė 2007, p. 99–122. 8 Iki šiol atlikti kitų lietuvių kalbos plotų vieto- vardžių tyrimai nėra paliudiję tokios gausios priesagos -in- vartosenos padarant agronimų vedinius iš apeliaty- vų. Buvo atkreiptas dėmesys į tai, kad tiriamame plote šie vediniai sudaro apie pusę visų apeliatyvinės kilmės priesaginių vedinių. Agronimų tyrimo duomenys bei analizės rezultatai artimiausiu metu bus paskelbti at- skiru straipsniu leidinyje Acta Linguistica Lithuanica. Čia ir svarstoma, kas lemia šių onimų polinkį plėstis priesagos -in- vedinių naudai. Be to, straipsnyje paste- bima, kad kalbami vietovardžiai Marijampolės apskri- tyje gana dažnai padaromi iš gretiminių formų, pvz.: su asiūkl- ir siūkl-, rodančių ryšį su asiklis ir siklė, siklis (Asiūklinė pv. Klvr, Ldvn, Prn ir Siklinė pv. Lbv), su lapūk- ir lapūg-, rodančių ryšį su lapgas ir lapkas (Lapginė pv. Klvr ir Lapkinė pv. Krsn), su lendr- ir nendr-, rodančių ryšį su léndrė ir néndrė (Lén- drinė pv. Lbv ir Nendrnė pv. Gdl, Krsn, Lbv, Ldvn), su čių – Marijampolės ir Balbieriškio – visi vietovardžiai9. Be dabar egzistuojančių gyvenamųjų vietų, upių, ežerų vardų, buvo ištirti ir išnykę šių klasių onimai, taip pat iki šiol lingvistiškai neanalizuoti iš vietos gyventojų tarpukariu užrašyti abiejų valsčių žemėvardžiai. Buvo paskelbtos autentiškos jų lytys, gyvosios kalbos variantai, daugelis vietų vardų sukirčiuota. Atlikus minėtų valsčių visų vietovardžių klasių – vandenvardžių, gyvenamųjų vietų vardų, žemėvardžių – darybos ir kilmės analizę, pastebėta, kad šios klasės yra gana savitos, nors turi ir panašumų. Siekiant pagrįsti pastarąjį teiginį, toliau pateikiamos diagramos, iliustruojančios dviejų valsčių vietovardžių darybinės analizės rezultatus10 ir suteikiančios galimybę juos palyginti (žr. 1, 2, 3 diagramas). Išnagrinėjus dviejų valsčių vietų vardus darybiškai, pastebėta, kad daugiau yra ant- rinių vietovardžių: jų kiekis Balbieriškio valsčiuje svyruoja nuo 47 % gyvenamųjų vietų vardų iki 71 % vandenvardžių klasėse ir atitinkamai tose pačiose klasėse Marijam- polės valsčiuje nuo 66 % iki 86 %. Pirminiai vietovardžiai būdingesni gyvenamųjų vietų vardams Balbieriškio skrobl- ir skruobl-, rodančių ryšį su skrõblas ir skrúoblas (Skroblnis l. Lbv ir Skruoblinis pv. Gdl). Iki šiol atlik- tuose kituose lietuvių arealinės toponimijos tyrimuose į šį reiškinį (gretiminių formų vartoseną padarant tos pačios priesagos vedinius) dėmesys nebuvo atkreiptas. 9 Dėl Marijampolės valsčiaus visų vietovardžių klasių analizės žr. Sviderskienė 2005, p. 91–118. Straipsnis „Balbieriškio valsčiaus vietovardžių darybos ir kilmės polinkiai“ bus spausdinamas „Lietuvos vals- čių“ serijos monografijos Balbieriškis kalbos skyriuje ir skelbiamas internetinėje svetainėje „Lietuvos lokaliniai tyrimai“ www.llt.lt. 10 Siekiant apibendrinti, tarpusavyje palyginti jau atliktus dviejų valsčių vietovardžių tyrimo duomenis bei analizės rezultatus, diagramose pateikiama tik pro- centinė jų išraiška. Jau minėtuose autorės straipsniuo- se (žr. 9 išnašą) kalbamų toponimų analizės rezultatai skelbiami ir kiekybine, ir procentine išraiška. 235 valsčiuje – čia jie sudaro apie pusę (53 %) šių vietovardžių. Net 75 % iš jų – pluralia tantum formos, priklausančios gana vė- lyvam oikonimijos formavimosi etapui. Pirminių žemėvardžių yra 37 %, vanden- vardžių – 29 %. O Marijampolės valsčiuje pluralia tantum formos sudaro apie treč- dalį gyvenamųjų vietų vardų (34 %). Šio valsčiaus pirminių žemėvardžių yra 27 %, vandenvardžių – 14 %. Pastebėta, kad priesaginiai vietovar- džiai – tai pati gausiausia vedinių grupė abiejuose tirtuose valsčiuose.11 Apylygiai priesaginių žemėvardžių (27 %) ir gyve- namųjų vietų vardų (25 %) užrašyta Bal- bieriškio valsčiuje. Marijampolės valsčiaus gyvenamųjų vietų vardų priesagų vediniai sudaro net 45 %. Šiuo būdu čia gana daž- nai padaromi ir kiti vietovardžiai: priesagų vediniai sudaro daugiau nei trečdalį van- denvardžių (37 %), žemėvardžių (39 %). Mažiausiai (17 %) užrašyta priesaginių Balbieriškio valsčiaus vandenvardžių. Sudūrimo būdu padaryti vietovardžiai ištirtuose valsčiuose yra būdingesni van- denvardžiams (Balbieriškio valsčiuje 23 %, Marijampolės – 33 %) ir žemėvardžiams (Balbieriškio valsčiuje 20 %, Marijam- polės – 26 %). Gyvenamųjų vietų vardai sudūrimo būdu tiek viename, tiek kitame valsčiuje padaromi rečiau (Balbieriškio – 9 %, Marijampolės – 15 %). Nustatyta, kad sudėjimo būdu že- mėvardžiai ir gyvenamųjų vietų vardai Balbieriškio valsčiuje padaromi nedažnai (11 % ir 4 %), kiek daugiau (18 %) šiame valsčiuje užrašyta sudėtinių vandenvardžių. Marijampolės valsčiuje kalbamas darybos 11 Priesaginę derivaciją Vanagas laiko vienu iš pa- čių archajiškiausių toponimų atsiradimo būdų (plg. Va- nagas 1970, p. 278–279). 3 pav. Žemėvardžių darybos polinkiai  Balbieriškio valsčiaus vietovardžiai  Marijampolės valsčiaus vietovardžiai 0 20 40 sudėtiniai vv. dūriniai priešdėlių vediniai priesagų vediniai galūnių vediniai pirminiai vv. 0 20 40 60 sudėtiniai vv. dūriniai priešdėlių vediniai priesagų vediniai galūnių vediniai pirminiai vv. 0 20 40 60 sudėtiniai vv. dūriniai priešdėlių vediniai priesagų vediniai galūnių vediniai pirminiai vv. 1 pav. Vandenvardžių darybos polinkiai 2 pav. Gyvenamųjų vietų vardų darybos polinkiai D. Sviderskienė. TARPUKARIU UŽRAŠYTŲ MARIJAMPOLĖS APSKRITIES VIETOVARDŽIŲ... 236 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE būdas gana neproduktyvus: vandenvardžių padaryta 10 %, žemėvardžių – 7 %, gyve- namųjų vietų vardų – 1 %. Pastebėta, kad priešdėlių ir galūnių ve- dinių abiejuose tirtuose valsčiuose padaryta mažiausiai. Balbieriškio valsčiuje gyvena- mųjų vietų vardų ir žemėvardžių klasėse priešdėlių vediniai gana neproduktyvūs (7 % ir 4 %), o vandenvardžiams – jie beveik nebūdingi (1 %). Galūnių vediniai čia bū- dingi tik vandenvardžiams (11 %); kitiems vietovardžiams – jie beveik nebūdingi (po 1 %). Marijampolės valsčiuje užfiksuota 6 % galūnių vedinių vandenvardžių klasėje; žemėvardžių daryboje šie vediniai nepro- duktyvūs (1 %). Čia 4 % gyvenamųjų vietų vardų padaroma su priešdėliais. 4, 5 ir 6 diagramos parodo Balbieriškio ir Marijampolės valsčių visų klasių vieto- vardžių kilmės ypatumus. Akivaizdu, kad pagal kilmę abiejuose valsčiuose daugiausia vietovardžių, kilusių iš apeliatyvų (bendrinių žodžių)12: 73 % vandenvardžių ir 72 % žemėvardžių Bal- bieriškio apylinkėse bei 71 % vandenvar- džių ir 61 % žemėvardžių Marijampolės apylinkėse. Iš bendrinių žodžių kilusių gyvenamųjų vietų vardų Balbieriškio valsčiuje užrašyta apie trečdalį (29 %), čia dažnesni iš asmen- vardžių kilę vietovardžiai – 55 %. Asmen- vardinė kilmė šiame valsčiuje būdinga ir žemėvardžiams (21 %), ir vandenvardžiams (15 %). Nustatyta, kad Marijampolės valsčiaus gyvenamųjų vietų vardų klasėje vyrauja (70 %) iš asmenvardžių padaryti vieto- vardžiai. Šis kilmės pamatas būdingas ir 12 Pasak ukrainiečių toponimiko D. Bučko, apelia- tyvinių vedinių gausumas lemia vienos ar kitos siste- mos senumą (Bučko 1981, p. 265). 4 pav. Vandenvardžių kilmės polinkiai  Balbieriškio valsčiaus vietovardžiai  Marijampolės valsčiaus vietovardžiai 0 20 40 60 80 5 pav. Gyvenamųjų vietų vardų kilmės po- linkiai 0 20 40 60 80 6 pav. Žemėvardžių kilmės polinkiai 0 20 40 60 80 237 valsčiaus žemėvardžiams (30 %), ir van- denvardžiams (23 %). Iš kitų vietovardžių kilusių vietų vardų negausiai užfiksuota Marijampolės vals- čiuje: nedažni (5 %) vietovardinės kilmės gyvenamųjų vietų vardai, dar retesni (3 %) žemėvardžiai ir vandenvardžiai (1 %). Kiek dažniau iš kitų toponimų padaromi vietų vardai Balbieriškio valsčiuje: 21 % žemė- vardžių, 15 % gyvenamųjų vietų vardų ir 12 % vandenvardžių. Kaip matome, dalis tarpukariu užrašytų vietų vardų išnagrinėta labai detaliai. Tai leidžia pasekti dviejų valsčių vietovardžių, kaip apskrities sudedamųjų dalių, darybos, kilmės panašumus ir skirtumus, tačiau pa- teikta ir aptarta medžiaga neleidžia daryti išvadų apie viso tiriamo ploto toponimijos darybos ir kilmės polinkius. Ypač vertingi pasirodė tarpukario me- džiagos tyrimo rezultatai vandenvardžių ir kitų vietovardžių, kilusių iš asmenvardžių, sluoksniuose. Pasinaudojus papildoma informacija, teikiama anketose (lokalizacijos, upių, upelių, ištakų, žiočių vietos nuorodomis bei pastabų skilties užrašymais), pastebėta, kad 40 vandenvardžių, tarpukario laikotarpiu iš gyvosios kalbos užrašytų Marijampolės apskrityje, iki šiol nepublikuoti ir netir- ti, nes neužfiksuoti oficialiuose upių ir ežerų vardų sąrašuose (Lietuvos TSR upių ir ežerų vardyne, toliau – LUEV; Vanago Lietuvių hidronimų etimologiniame žodyne, toliau – LHEŽ). Manant, kad šie vande- nų vardai galėtų būti svarbūs tolesniems lietuvių toponimikos tyrimams, papildytų jau žinomas lietuviškų hidronimų bendra- šaknes grupes, suteiktų daugiau duomenų vandenvardžių lyčių raidos klausimais, šių vietovardžių analizė buvo paskelbta at- skiru straipsniu13. Jame buvo aptarta visų kalbamų vandenvardžių daryba ir kilmė. Štai keletas jų14: Kapanicà grv., upl. Brb, Krioklỹs up. KzR, Lazdýnkalnio upẽlis up. Ss, Lókauša upl. KzR, Marack upẽlis up. KzR, Mškupelis up. Lbv, Razgrė up. KzR, Rynà up. Ss, Skriod up. Brb, Šakýčia up. Klvr, Šveñtupė up. Prn, Ubagnė ež. Krsn ir kt. Taip pat buvo publikuoti ir komen- tuojami kai kuriems žinomiems upių ir ežerų vardams rasti nauji variantai: Aguõni- nis ež. Lbv, Kermušnė up. Mrj, Lapuplė up. Prn, Nipriùkas up. Vv, Õšventis up. Prn, Peršáika up. Brb, Raišupka up. Ss, Raudẽniškių ẽžeras ež. Klvr, Rùdė up. Vv, Rūduplis up. Prn, Utėlnka up. Ss ir Vyžupỹs up. Klvr. Remiantis Vanago išdėstytomis nuosta- tomis dėl hidroobjektų atsiradimo laiko15, manoma, kad aptartų Marijampolės aps- krities tarpukariu užrašytų vandenvardžių grupė priklauso vėlyvajam lietuvių hidro- nimų sluoksniui. Pirminiam, archajiškajam klodui galėtų priklausyti nebent priesagos -auša vedinys – upėvardis Lókauša KzR. Toliau keletas pastabų dėl vietovardžių, kilusių iš asmenvardžių, tyrimo rezultatų. Pamatiniai žodžiai (etimonai), iš kurių kildinami, su kuriais siejami darybos, kil- mės požiūriu, tiriami vietovardžiai, kaip jau ir buvo minėta, gali būti bendriniai ir tikriniai žodžiai. Pastarieji galimi dve- jopi – asmenvardžiai ir kiti vietų vardai. Vietovardžių, kilusių iš asmenvardžių, atitikmenų pamatiniam žodžiui pagrįsti 13 Plačiau žr. Sviderskienė 2010, p. 341–353. 14 Prie visų aptariamų vietovardžių užrašomi tam tikri duomenys: vietovardžiais įvardijamų objektų, lo- kalizacijos nuorodos valsčiaus tikslumu. Remtasi jau sudarytais LKI Vardyno skyriuje rašomo Lietuvos vie- tovardžių žodyno t. 1 (toliau – LVŽ I) sutrumpinimų sąrašais. 15 Plačiau žr. Vanagas 1977, p. 149. D. Sviderskienė. TARPUKARIU UŽRAŠYTŲ MARIJAMPOLĖS APSKRITIES VIETOVARDŽIŲ... 238 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE pirmiausiai ieškoma vieninteliame dabar- tinių pavardžių sąraše Lietuvių pavardžių žodyne (toliau – LPŽ). Dažniausiai randa- ma, tačiau dalis asmenvardžių mūsų dienų nepasiekė, jie išliko vietovardžiuose, o juos buvus paliudyti galėjo abėcėlinė istorinių asmenvardžių kartoteka, saugoma Lietuvių kalbos instituto Vardyno skyriaus fonduo- se (toliau – IAK). Kartoteką sudaro apie 300 000 vnt. iš įvairių XVI–XIX a. istori- jos dokumentų (bažnyčių metrikų knygų, dvarų inventorių, miesto aktų knygų ir kt.) surinkti ir į lapelius išrašyti asmenvar- džiai. Būtent šia asmenvardžių sankaupa ir naudotasi tais atvejais, kada tarpukariu iš gyvosios kalbos užrašytų Marijampolės apskrities vietovardžių pamatiniam žodžiui pagrįsti LPŽ pateikiamų duomenų nepa- kako, tiriamuose vietovardžiuose išlikusių asmenvardžių vartoseną paliudijo minėto šaltinio antroponimija. Keletas pavyzdžių16: Andžión-iškė pv. Ldvn: avd. *Andžionis, plg. avd. Christophorus Andzionis 1679 m. (iki mūsų dienų asmenvardis su patroni- mine priesaga -onis neatėjo, dabartinės bendrašaknės pavardės – Andželis, Andžis, Andžiùlis, Añdžius (LPŽ I 106)); Bautr- -iškė pv. Klvr: avd. *Bautrus ar pan., plg. avd. Catharinam Bawtrucia 1691–1672 m. (šiuo atveju mūsų dienų nepasiekė asmen- vardis *Bautrus, dabartinės bendrašaknės pavardės LPŽ duomenimis – su patronimi- nėmis priesagomis -ėnas ir -onis: Bautrnas, Bautrónis (LPŽ I 215)); Ìrš-a-balė pv. Krsn: avd. *Irša ar pan., plg. avd. Joannes Irʃza 1671 m. (dabartinė pavardė – su patroni- 16 Tarpukario anketų duomenimis, nesukirčiuoti arba nurodyti su neaiškia, nepatikima kirčio vieta ar priegaide vietovardžiai nekirčiuojami. Vietovardžių da- rybos afiksai (priesagos, galūnės) brūkšneliu atskiriami nuo pamatinės šaknies. Taip pat brūkšneliais atskiriami ir sudurtinių vietovardžių (dūrinių) sandai. mine priesaga -ėnas: Iršnas (LPŽ I 773))17; Kz-a-balė pv. Gdl: avd. *Kėzas ar pan., plg. avd. Staniʃlawowi Kieʒiʃʒ 1565 m., Ƶophiam Kieɜaicia 1650 m. (iki mūsų dienų antroponimas be priesagos neatėjo, dabartinė bendrašaknė pavardė – Kzelis (LPŽ I 982)); Meln-škiai k. Brb: avd. *Melnys ar pan., plg. avd. Szcefan Melnis 1598 m. (dabartinių pavardžių sąraše ran- dame pavardes Mélnikas, Melnckas (LPŽ II 207)); Ruodžių Krantas dr. Brb: avd. *Ruodys ar pan., plg. avd. Petrelis Ruodaitys 1662 m. (LPŽ duomenų apie bendrašaknį asmenvardį nerasta); Slankiaus kalnas kln. Prn: avd. *Slankius ar pan., plg. avd. Anna Slankaicia 1670 m. (iki mūsų dienų atėjo bendrašakniai asmenvardžiai su sla- viškos kilmės priesagomis Slankáuskas, Slankẽvičius (LPŽ II 759, 760)) ir kt. Be jau minėtų atvejų18, svarbūs ir kiti, kai rekonstruotą etimoną buvo galima pagrįsti tik turėtais istorinės antroponimi- jos duomenimis. Analizuojant tarpukario laikotarpiu iš gyvosios kalbos užrašytų asmenvardinės kilmės vieno vietovardžių poklasio – agronimų – darybą19, buvo išskirta galimos dvejopos kilmės kalbamų 17 Straipsnyje antrųjų vietovardžių sandų ir dėme- nų kilmė neaiškinama. 18 Tyrimo rezultatus, paremtus gausesne medžia- ga, planuojama paskelbti atskiru straipsniu. 19 Plačiau žr. Sviderskienė 2010a, p. 97–127. Tyrimo metu nustatyti arealo asmenvardinės kilmės agronimų darybos būdų ypatumai, kokios priesagos vartojamos padarant priesaginius vedinius, koks jų darumas, išryškinta sandūros ir sudėjimo būdu pa- darytų agronimų darybos specifika ir pan. Šio arealo agronimų pamatiniams žodžiams (etimonams) pagrįsti asmenvardžiai randami ne tik lietuvių antroponimijos šaltiniuose, tarp kurių svarbų vaidmenį atlieka istorinių asmenvardžių kartoteka, bet ir lenkų, pavieniais atvejais vokiečių asmenvardžių šaltiniuose. Tiriamoji medžiaga patvirtino pastebėjimą dėl tam tikro lietuvių toponimų sluoksnio, liudijančio apie glaudžias lietuvių (baltų) ir lenkų (slavų) (plg. Maciejauskienė 2006, p. 234) ar net vokiečių onimijos sąsajas. 239 onimų grupė. Manoma, kad šie agronimai sietini arba su asmenvardžiu, atsiradusiu iš apeliatyvinio asmens pavadinimo, arba su apeliatyviniu asmens pavadinimu, pvz.: Kálv-iškė pv. Lbv, Kálv-iškiai 2 pv. Ldvn, Kalv-iškis pv. Ldvn, Kálv-ia-raistis pv. Gdl: avd. *Kalvis ar pan., plg. avd. Tomas Kalwis 1630 m., Annam Kalwienie 1654 m. (IAK), kita vertus, galima kilmė iš lie. kálvis „kas verčiasi metalo kalimo amatu“ (LKŽe)20; Rmor-iškė pv. Krsn: avd. *Rimorius ar pan., plg. avd. Sebeʃthian Rymarʒ 1552 m. (IAK), kita vertus, galima kilmė iš lie. rmorius „kas siuva pakinktus“ (LKŽe); Riogl-iškis pv. Igl: avd. *Rio- glys ar pan., plg. avd. Valentinum Roglis 1639 m. (IAK), kita vertus, galima kilmė iš lie. rioglỹs, - „kas nevikrus, nerangus, griozdas, kerėpla“ (LKŽe); Šlub-iškė dr. Šil: avd. *Šlubis ar pan., plg. avd. Jasius Szlubis 1637 m. (IAK), kita vertus, galima kilmė iš lie. šlùbis, -ė „kas šlubas, raišas“ (LKŽe) ir kt. Minėto tyrimo metu nusta- tyta, kad pastarųjų vietovardžių darybos polinkiai artimesni iš asmenvardžių, nei iš apeliatyvinių asmenų pavadinimų, kilusių agronimų grupės darybiniams polinkiams. Todėl spėjama, kad asmenvardis, atsiradęs iš apeliatyvinio asmens pavadinimo, matyt, ir buvo dažnesnis jų kilmės šaltinis21. Šiuos asmenvardžius, funkcionavusius tiriamame plote ar netoli nuo jo esančiose apylinkėse, patvirtino turėti istorinės antroponimijos duomenys. Taip pat šiame vietovardžių poklasyje buvo atkreiptas dėmesys ir į kelis gana 20 LPŽ duomenimis, pvd. Kálvis užrašyta Klaipė- dos, Kartenos, Pagėgių, Palangos ir Šilutės apylinkėse (dar žr. LPŽ I 902). Turimi istorinės antroponimijos užrašymai paliudijo, kad tiriamame plote XVII a. šis asmenvardis dar funkcionavo. 21 Dar žr. Sviderskienė 2010a, p. 120, 121. savitos darybos galūnės -ė(s) vedinius: Baranaũsk-ė pv. Klvr: pvd. Baranaũskas (LPŽ I 190) ar pan.; Delnick-ė pv. Prn: pvd. Delnckas (LPŽ I 482); Šmarlak-ės pv. Prn: avd. *Šmarlakas ar pan., plg. avd. Jurgis Szmorlak 1629 m. (IAK); Šeškausk-ė pv. Klvr: pvd. Šeškáuskas (LPŽ II 917) ar pan. Tai galėtų būti naujas, pietinio lietuvių kalbos ploto toponimų tyrimų rezultatus papildantis, pastebėjimas. Visi tyrimo rezultatai dar kartą pa- tvirtina atliekamo darbo aktualumą bei publikuojamos medžiagos vertę. Be to, neišleistina iš akių ir tai, kad daugelis iš- aiškintų ir aprašytų asmenvardinės kilmės atvejų buvo paskelbta pirmą kartą. Numatomi darbai Ateityje bus siekiama turėti tarpukariu Marijampolės apskrityje užrašytų vieto- vardžių visumos analizės duomenis. Tam prireiks darybos ir kilmės požiūriais ištirti dar netirtų vietovardžių klasių (subklasių) vienetus bei sujungti jau atliktus kai kurių vietovardžių analizės duomenis su naujais, turimas išvadas konkretinti, pildyti, tikslinti ar net koreguoti. Nevertintų svarbiausiais tikrinių žodžių tyrimo požiūriais toponimų grupių liko visose Marijampolės apskrities vietovardžių klasėse (poklasiuose): netirti šio lietuvių kalbos ploto helonimai, priklausantys vandenvardžių klasei, oficialieji oikonimai, skiriami gyvenamųjų vietų vardų klasei, bei keletas žemėvardžių klasės smulkiųjų vieto- vardžių grupių. Manoma, kad pastaruosius vietovardžius tirti bei publikuoti yra ypač svarbu, nes smulkiausi žemės paviršiaus vardai – specifinė, labiausiai kintanti leksi- kos dalis. Daugelis žemėvardžių jau išnyko, juos buvus paliudyti galėjo tik „Žemės D. Sviderskienė. TARPUKARIU UŽRAŠYTŲ MARIJAMPOLĖS APSKRITIES VIETOVARDŽIŲ... 240 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE vardų“ anketos, kuriose šie toponimai iš vietos gyventojų užrašyti tarpukariu. Todėl ateityje bus siekiama išanalizuoti visus dar netirtus (tiek apeliatyvinės, tiek oniminės kilmės) žemėvardžius, kad būtų gautas kal- bamos klasės, pasižyminčios reprezentantų kiekiu bei įvairove, vietovardžių darybos ir kilmės polinkių visumos vaizdas. Taip pat numatoma sujungti vanden- vardžių tyrėjų (Vanago, Bronio Savukyno) įvairiaaspektes (darybos, kilmės, seman- tikos) Marijampolės apylinkių vandenų vardų aiškinimo versijas ir straipsnio autorės tarpukario anketose pastebėtų, identifikuotų, suburtų ir aprašytų iki šiol nežinotų, t. y. į oficialius vandenvardžių sąrašus neįtrauktų, tiriamos apskrities vandenvardžių analizės duomenis, kad paaiškėtų bendrieji arealo upių ir ežerų vardų darybos bei kilmės polinkiai. Taigi viena svarbiausių Marijampolės apskrities vandenvardžių darybos ir kilmės nagrinė- jimo išvadų ir turėtų būti arealo vandenų vardų struktūrinio-gramatinio modelio, kilmės polinkių specifikos išryškinimas. Juk pietinio lietuvių kalbos ploto vanden- vardžiai yra lietuvių vandenvardžių dalis, o pastarieji – baltų hidronimijos. Išvados Straipsnyje pateikti kelerius metus nuo- sekliai vykdomi Marijampolės apskrities tarpukariu iš gyvosios kalbos užrašytų vietovardžių tyrimai darybos ir kilmės požiūriais. Svarbiausi pirminiai rezultatai: tarpukario anketų medžiaga ne tik pa- tvirtino, bet ir papildė turėtus duomenis apie tiriamojo ploto vandenvardžius. Be to, gretinant publikuotus šaltinius bei anketose teikiamą papildomą informaciją, buvo rasti ir susieti su jau žinomais keletas vandenų vardų variantų. Visų naujai surastų hidroobjektų lingvistinė vertė apibrėžta bei aprašyta. Nustatyta, kad didžioji dalis šių vandenvardžių priklauso vėlyvajam lietuvių hidronimų sluoksniui. Ištyrus dalį asmenvardinės kilmės Mari- jampolės apskrities vietovardžių, buvo gauti rezultatai, aktualūs ne tik toponimikai, bet ir antroponimikos mokslui. Tikimasi, kad asmenvardžių tyrėjai turės galimybę formos, struktūros (darybos) požiūriu palyginti ir įvertinti vietovardžiuose išlikusius, mūsų dienų nepasiekusius asmenvardžius su da- bartinėmis pavardėmis. Galbūt unikali ir sa- vaime vertinga antroponiminė medžiaga leis pastebėti ir kai kuriuos naujus bei savitus šio Lietuvos regiono antroponimijos bruožus. Taigi išlikusios anketos, jų autentiška medžiaga, yra ne tik kaip atskiras svarbus tarpukario palikimo vienetas, jos vertingos ir kaip šaltinis, kuriame pasitaiko užfiksuo- tų faktų, kurių dabartinėse sankaupose jau nėra arba jie gerokai pakitę. Ateityje bus siekiama analizuoti ir publikuoti visus dar netirtus Marijampo- lės apskrities vietovardžius bei skelbti jų analizės rezultatus. Sujungus jau atliktus vietovardžių analizės duomenis su naujais, turimas išvadas tektų konkretinti, pildyti, tikslinti ar net koreguoti. Tikimasi, kad bus pastebėtas dar ne vienas pietinio Lietuvos ploto toponimų tyrimus papildantis faktas. Manoma, kad šiame lietuvių kalbos plote tarpukariu užrašyti vietovardžiai ga- lėtų suteikti informacijos ir apie išnykusios baltų genties – jotvingių – oniminio subs- trato pėdsakus. Vykdomi tyrimai galėtų būti vertingi ne tik kalbos mokslui, bet įdomūs ir etno- logams ar kitų sričių tyrėjams. Jie padėtų geriau pažinti čia gyvenusių žmonių men- talitetą, pasaulėjautą. Be to, turint omenyje 241 Savukyno keltą, ir šiandien onomastikoje aktualią, mintį paisyti onimų ryšių su viso lingvistinio arealo toponiminiu kontekstu (Savukynas 1966, p. 172), tokio pobūdžio tyrimai skatintų regioninę toponimiką, darybos, kilmės analizę, praverstų rengiant sintetinį lietuvių toponimikos darbą Lietu- vos vietovardžių žodyną. O b j e k t ų n u o r o d ų s u t r u m p i n i m a i dr. – dirva ež. – ežeras grv. – griovys k. – kaimas kln. – kalnas l. – laukas pv. – pieva up. – upė upl. – upelis L o k a l i z a c i j o s n u o ro d ų s u t r u m p i n i m a i Brb – Balbiẽriškis (Prenų r.) Gdl – Gudẽliai (Marijámpolės sav. t.) Igl – Igliškliai (Marijámpolės sav. t.) Klvr – Kalvarijà (Marijámpolės sav. t.) Krsn – Krosnà (Lazdjų r.) KzR – Kazl Rūdà Lbv – Liubãvas (Kalvarjos sav. t.) Ldvn – Liudvinãvas (Marijámpolės sav. t.) Mrj – Marijámpolė Prn – Prenai Ss – Sasnavà (Marijámpolės sav. t.) Šil – Šilavótas (Prenų r.) Vv – Veiveriai̇̃ (Prenų r.) K i t i s u t r u m p i n i m a i avd. – asmenvardis pvd. – pavardė Š a l t i n i a i ATSŽ – NOREIKA, Z., STRAVINSKAS, V., 1976. Lietuvos TSR administracinio-teritorinio suskirstymo žinynas, 2 d. Vilnius: Mintis. IAK – Istorinių asmenvardžių kartoteka, Lie- tuvių kalbos instituto Vardyno skyriaus fondas. LHEŽ – VANAGAS, A., 1981. Lietuvių hi- dronimų etimologinis žodynas. Vilnius: Mokslas. LKŽe – NAKTINIENĖ, G. (vyr. red.), PAU- LAUSKAS, J., PETROKIENĖ, R., VITKAUS- KAS, V., ZABARSKAITĖ, J., 2008, Lietuvių kalbos žodynas, elektroninis variantas www.lkz.lt. Vilnius: Lietuvių kalbos institutas. LPŽ – MACIEJAUSKIENĖ, V., RAZMU- KAITĖ, M., VANAGAS, A., 1985–1989. Lietuvių pavardžių žodynas, t. 1–2. Vilnius: Mokslas. LUEV – GRINAVECKIENĖ, E. (atsak. red.), 1963. Lietuvos TSR upių ir ežerų vardynas. Vil- nius: Valstybinė politinės ir mokslinės literatūros leidykla. LVŽ – BILKIS, L., MACIEJAUSKIENĖ, V., RAZMUKAITĖ, M., 2008. Lietuvos vietovardžių žodynas, t. 1. Vilnius: Lietuvių kalbos institutas. Literatūra ALMINAUSKIS, K., 1934. Instrukcija Lietu- vos žemės vardynui surašyti. Švietimo ministerija, Valstybės archeologijos komisija. Klaipėda: Rytas. BUČKO, D., 1981. Отапеллятивные топо- нимы Верхнего Поднепровья. In: Proc of the thirteenth Internat. Congress of Onomastic Sciences. Wrocław etc., t. 1, 259–265. 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Dalia Sviderskienė Institute of the Lithuanian Language, Lithuania Research interests: onomastics, derivation and origin of proper words MARIJAMPOLĖ COUNTY PLACE-NAMES RECORDED DURING THE INTERWAR PERIOD: INITIAL SURVEY RESULTS AND PROSPECTS Summary The aim of this article is to present research that has been consistently implemented for several years about the place-names recorded in the “Land Names” questionnaires in Marijampolė County during the interwar period, to discuss their initial findings and to provide for future work. The study is based on the material that was selected as being among the most valuable from a scientific point of view. The unique place-names of Marijampolė County were recorded in thirteen districts during the interwar period from the living language. This authentic material, untouched by external factors such as land melioration, collectiv- ization, Russification, deportation, etc., has been little explored. According to the types of named objects, the database was divided into hydronyms, names of dwelling-places, and toponyms, and evaluated from the point of view of word for- mation and word origin. The research includes identifying the formation of separate classes and certain trends of origin, studying some classes of toponyms, and investigating the placenames of two districts (Marijampolė and Balbieriškis). The results are interesting, valuable, and relevant. They complement the existing multidimensional habitat list of research and make this almost unpublished lexical resource available to public and scientific Dalia Sviderskienė Instytut Języka Litewskiego, Litwa Zainteresowania naukowe: onomastyka, badania nad słowotwórstwem i pochodzeniem nazw własnych WSTĘPNE WYNIKI I PERSPEKTYWY BA- DAŃ NAD NAZWAMI MIEJSCOWYMI PO- WIATU MARIAMPOLSKIEGO Z OKRESU MIĘDZYWOJENNEGO Streszczenie Celem artykułu jest przedstawienie wyników kil- kuletnich, konsekwentnie prowadzonych badań nad nazwami miejscowymi południowej części litewskiego obszaru językowego (a konkretnie – powiatu mariampolskiego), zanotowanymi w okre- sie międzywojennym, w aspekcie słowotwórczym i etymologicznym. W artykule przedstawiono ponadto niektóre wyniki badań tego materiału w klasach hydronimów, innych nazw miejscowych (pochodzących od nazw osobowych) i in. Pozwala to stwierdzić, że zachowane kwestionariusze i za- rejestrowane w nich prawdziwe dane są nie tylko ważnym elementem dziedzictwa okresu między- wojennego, ale też cennym źródłem zawierającym fakty, niezachowane w obecnych zasobach lub znacznie zmienione. W celu uzyskania pełnego obrazu specyficz- nych cech słowotwórczych i etymologicznych nazw miejscowych powiatu mariampolskiego, badanie obszaru językowego należy kontynuować. Uważa się, że prowadzone prace nie tylko przyczy- nią się do rozwoju toponimii regionalnej, analizy słowotwórstwa i etymologii nazw miejscowych oraz dalszych badań w zakresie toponomastyki na Litwie, ale też zainteresują etnologów czy badaczy innych dziedzin. Pomogą lepiej poznać mentalność 242 IV. KONFERENCIJŲ MEDŽIAGA / MATERIAŁY KONFERENCYJNE society; they also highlight the uniqueness of the toponyms of this habitat and encourage studies of other regions. The research results of interwar material about hydronyms and other place-names derived from personal names in classes (subclasses) are of particular interest and value. The article demonstrates that the extant ques- tionnaires and their authentic material are not only an important separate unit of the interwar legacy, but also a valuable source with recorded facts which have not been preserved in the current collections or significantly changed. The future aim is to collect a complete da- tabase of Marijampolė County’s place-names recorded during the interwar period. This will require studying the formation and origin of unstudied place-name units of separate classes (subclasses) and joining the available data with the newly collected. The results will be concret- ized, supplemented, revised and/or corrected. It is believed that the place-names recorded in this area during the interwar period could provide informa- tion about the traces of the onymic substratum of the extinct Baltic tribe of Jatvians. KEY WORDS: areal research, interwar period, appellative, proper word, toponym, anthroponym, etymon, derivation and origin of proper words. i sposób postrzegania świata ludzi żyjących na danym obszarze. Nazwy miejscowe zanotowane w okresie międzywojennym na badanym obszarze litewskiego obszaru językowego mogą również dostarczyć informacji o śladach substratu onimicz- nego wymarłego ludu bałtyckiego – Jaćwingów. SŁOWA KLUCZOWE: badania obszaru języ- kowego, okres międzywojenny, wyraz pospolity (apelatyw), nazwa własna (onim), nazwa miejscowa (toponim), nazwa osobowa (antroponim), wyraz uważany za podstawę etymologiczną (etymon), słowotwórstwo i pochodzenie nazw własnych. Gauta 2012 01 30 Priimta publikuoti 2012 07 20 D. Sviderskienė. TARPUKARIU UŽRAŠYTŲ MARIJAMPOLĖS APSKRITIES VIETOVARDŽIŲ... 243 244 V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY Patrick Sériot Centrinės ir Rytų Europos istorinės ir lyginamosios epistemologinės kalbotyros mokslinių tyrimų centras (CRECLECO), Lozanos universitetas, Šveicarija1 KALBA, VALDŽIA IR KŪNAS2 II dalis3 2.1. Meilė Daugeliu citatų galima paliudyti, kad „di- džioji rusų kalba“ sovietiniuose paralingvis- tiniuose Brežnevo eros raštuose traktuojama kaip meilės objektas. Tačiau TSRS gyveno ne tik rusofonai, tad toji meilė gali slėpti visiškai priešingą jausmą.123 2.1.1. Rusų kalba, rusakalbių gimto- ji kalba Meilė gimtajai kalbai gali gimti beskaitant gramatikos vadovėlį, nes skaitymas sujun- gia meilės jausmą ir studijuojamo objekto žinias: „Ši knyga skatina susidomėjimą rusų kalba, meilę rusų kalbai“ (Prokopovic et al. 1972, p. 6).4 [243] Tačiau norint užbaigti 1 Centre de recherches en histoire et épistémologie comparée de la linguistique d‘Europe centrale et orien- tale (CRECLECO). 2 SERIOT, P., 2004. La langue, le pouvoir et le corps. In: Éd. P. SERIOT, A. TABOURET-KELLER. Le discours sur la langue sous les pouvoirs autoritaires. Cahiers de l’ILSL, 17. Univ. de Lausanne, 231–259. Prieiga: http://www2.unil.ch/slav/ling/recherche/ biblio/04Dict-txt/04Dicttxt.html 3 I dalis: SERIOT, P., 2012. Kalba, valdžia ir kūnas. Respectus Philologicus, 21(26), 226–234. 4 Iki begalybės būtų galima vardyti reikalavi- mus mylėti kalbą daugelyje kitų šalių, ir ypač (bet ne tik) „autoritariniais“ laikotarpiais. Andrée Tabouret- Kelleris (1996, p. 331) pažymi, kad Bismarko Vokieti- joje kiekvieną mėnesį buvo mokama 40 markių premija gramatikos studijas, būtina sąlyga yra meilė kalbai: „Tam, kad įsisavintume šias lingvis- tines žinias, kad gebėtume pasinaudoti šio- mis rusų kalbos galimybėmis, reikia nuolat studijuoti rusų kalbą, bandyti suprasti jos dėsnių esmę, juos suvokti, ir, svarbiausia, – mylėti šią kalbą.“ (Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 210). Pagaliau meilę – žinių priežastį ir pasekmę – maitina ir išlaiko objekto, kal- bos, studijos. „Atminkite, kad tikroji meilė rusų kalbai neįmanoma be gilių ir išsamių šios kalbos žinių, be nuolatinio ir atkaklaus gilinimosi į jos raiškos ir prasmių lobyną.“ (Ljustrova et al. 1982, p. 154). Langue maternelle, rusų kalba rodnoj jazyk būtų galima išversti „gimtoji kalba“ (langue natale). (Langue natale (gimtoji kalba) ir langue maternelle (pažodžiui „motininė kalba”) prancūzų kalboje yra sinonimai – vert. pastaba). Žodis rodnoj, iš tiesų, yra susijęs su rod, „giminė“, „rasė“, „gentis“, „klanas“, „kilmė“ (plg. su lotynų už puikų straipsnį, nagrinėjantį vokiečių kalbos dėstymą mokykloje. 1893 m. pirmą kartą buvo nemažai sumo- kėta už straipsnį «Was hat der Lehrer an der zweispra- chigen Schule zu tun, damit seine Schüler die deutsche Sprache liebgewinnen und gern gebrauchen?» („Ką pri- valo daryti dvikalbės mokyklos mokytojas, kad jo moki- niai pamėgtų ir vartotų vokiečių kalbą?“). Kaip ir mūsų sovietiniuose tekstuose, matyti, kad ta meilė nėra duota iš anksto, jos reikia nuolat siekti. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 245V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY kalbos gens, graikų genos), darybinis šių žodžių kamienas yra bendras daugeliui žodžių, kurie dažnai vartojami sentimen- taliose ir patriotinėse kalbose: roždenie „gimimas“, roditeli „tėvai“, rodina „tėvy- nė“, narod „tauta“ bei žodžių junginiuose, suformuotuose iš būdvardžio rodnoj: rodnaja reč „gimtoji šneka“, rodnoe slovo „gimtasis žodis“, rodnaja strana „gimtoji šalis“, rodnoj kraj „gimtasis kraštas“, rodnaja literatura „gimtoji, nacionalinė literatūra“ ir pan. Yra ir išimčių: rodnoj narod „savi žmonės“. Posakyje rodnoj sintaksis „gimtosios kalbos sintaksė“ galima įžvelgti ir nacionalistinį atspalvį. Būdvardis rodnoj yra glaudžiai susijęs su kraujo giminystės idėja: rodnoj brat „tikras brolis, kraujo brolis“, dvojurodnyj brat „pusbrolis“ (antrosios eilės kraujo brolis). Taigi rodnoj jazyk, būdama gimtoji kalba, t. y. įgyta nuo gimimo, gali būti ir klano, ir grupės kalba.5 [244] Akivaizdus kalbos / tėvynės ekvivalentas pagrįstas žodžio ša- knimi rod, kuri yra bendra žodžiams rodnoj jazyk ir rodina. Kadangi mylėti rusų kalbą tuo pat metu reiškia (ir tai atsispindi mūsų tekstuose) ir mylėti Tėvynę, tą, kurioje kalbama rusiškai, kurioje gimė rusų kalba: 5 Būtų galima surizikuoti neologizmu langue nati- ve (gimimo, gimtoji kalba), sukonstruotu pagal modelį locuteur natif (kalbantysis gimtąja kalba), kuris, savo ruožtu, yra kalkė iš anglų kalbos native speaker, plg. na- tive tongue. Bet ar taip būtų galima prieiti ir iki „vietinės kalbos“ langue indigène, nes žodis native turi taip pat prasmę „vietinis“ indigène? Andre Tabourett-Kelleris siūlo „pirmoji, pradinė kalba“ langue initiale, kad būtų išvengta bet kokio natūralizmo. Tačiau čia svarbus bū- tent natūralus šaltinis, kuriam reikėtų teikti pirmenybę: langue initiale („pirmoji, pradinė kalba“) galėtų daryti užuominą į tai, kad vėliau ją būtų galima pakeisti tuo, ko rodnoj jazyk terminija visai nepripažįsta: čia kalbama apie fiksuotą arba fatališką perspektyvą, dėl kurios jau nebegalima pakeisti savo gimtosios kalbos native, nata- le taip pat, kaip ir jos gimimo vietos ar datos: absurdiška manyti, kad galima pakeisti savo motiną… „Rusų kalbos bičiulius vienija meilė gim- tajam žodžiui, gimtajai šaliai, domėjimasis jos herojine praeitimi, šlovinga dabartimi ir šviesia ateitimi.“ (Ljustrova et al. 1982, p. 154). Taigi meilę gimtajai kalbai gali pa- skatinti įsakymai paklusti, pilietinė pareiga, taip pat ir meilė Tėvynei: „Meilė rusų kalbai yra sudėtinė to jausmo, kurį mes vadiname meile tėvynei, dalis. Kiekvienas sovietinis žmogus, kiekvienas rusas privalo mokėti ir mylėti savo kalbą. [...] Reikia mylėti ir nuolat mokytis rusų kalbos.“ (Paustovskij 1953, cit. Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 52). Nes toji meilė taip pat yra ir pareiga: „Pirmiausia reikia mylėti savo sovietinę tėvynę.“ (Iš maršalo K. K. Rokosovskio asmeninių archyvų, Literaturnaja gazeta, 1982 balandis). Tačiau gimtoji žemė (rod- naja zemlja) arba gimtoji kalba (rodnoj jazyk) yra du tos pačios sąvokos aspektai: Tėvynė (Rodina), kuri Tarybų Sąjungoje nuolat rėmėsi aukščiausiojo lygio Motinos įvaizdžiu: Motina-Tėvynė (Mat’-Rodina). Taigi ar įsakymas mylėti gimtąją kalbą arba Motiną-Tėvynę nereiškia simboliškos meilės, kurios negalime suvokti ir apie kurią visada nutylima: motinos (kūniškoji) meilė yra uždrausta, bet taip pat jai priskiriamas aukščiausias laipsnis? Šį kalbos įtvirtinimo aspektą M. Pierssenas pavadino logofilija – „kalbos pamišėlių“ meile kalbai. Svarbu paklausti, ar sovietinių Brežnevo laikų mokslo populiarinimo literatūroje galime aptikti „naujojo tipo logofiliją“, ar galime sužinoti, kokie specifiniai meilės Didžiajai rusų kalbai Sovietų Sąjungoje bruožai. 2.1.2. Kalbos gynimas Viena iš logofilijos pasekmių sovietiniuose tekstuose apie kalbą yra poreikis ginti ir saugoti gimtąją kalbą bei jos vientisumą. Ir 246 V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY vėl – tai neišsenkama švarumo ir dėmių, nuo kurių turi būti apsaugota kalba, metafora: [245] „Sovietai privalo nuolat nenuilstamai rūpintis rusų kalba, jos grynumu, išraiškos priemonių išsaugojimu ir plėtra, žodyno turtingumu, jos jėga.“ (Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 204). Blogio apraiškos, pavojingos ir kenksmingos kalbos grynumui, aiškiai nustatytos, tai – užsienio įtaka ir vulgarioji kalba: „Turime užtikrinti, kad [...] rusų kalba nebūtų užteršta žargonu, nereika- lingomis svetimybėmis, vulgarybėmis.“ (Ten pat, p. 205). Aukščiausias kalbos gynybos garantija bus moralinis diskursas, priminsiantis „Stalino stilių“ kalbotyroje: „Abejingumas kalbai, nekorektiškas kal- bos vartojimas, nerūpestingas požiūris į ją, jos skurdinimas, prastėjimas yra visiškai nepriimtina.“ (Paustovskij 1953, cit. Šer- muxamedov 1980, p. 52). Kalbos gynyba gali turėti ir politiškai motyvuotą tikslą: formuoti veiksmingą prie- monę „paveikti mases“. Bet kokiu atveju tokia yra Lenino pozicija, kurią atkartoja 1979 m. Rusų kalbos enciklopedija: „APIE RUSŲ KALBOS GRYNINIMĄ (Apmąsty- mai laisvu laiku, t. y. klausantis pasisakymų susirinkime). Mes iškraipome rusų kalbą. Be reikalo vartojame užsienietiškus žo- džius. Mes juos vartojame neteisingai. [...] Mūsų laikraščių kalba pradeda degraduoti. [...] Turiu pripažinti, kad jei be reikalo vartojami svetimi žodžiai, švelniai tariant, erzina mane (nes tai komplikuoja mūsų poveikį masėms), tai kai kurių į laikraščius rašančiųjų klaidos gali mane visiškai įsiu- tinti. [...] Ar ne laikas paskelbti karą rusų kalbos išsigimimui?“ (parašyta 1919 m. arba 1920 m., pirmą kartą paskelbta 1924 m. gruodžio 3 d. Pravdoje Nr. 275). (straipsnis «Langue russe» cituojamas Encyclopédie du russe 1979). Ši utilitarinė, Leninui būdinga aiškios kalbos koncepcija, tiesiogiai pritaikoma socialinei profilaktikai (kovai su „parazi- tais“), Brežnevo laikotarpiu buvo taikoma ir kalbai: „Dabar visiškai naujai suskamba pranašiški M. Gorkio žodžiai, raginę kovoti už rusų kalbos grynumą. Prisiminkime šiuos žodžius: [246] „Tarp grandiozinių naujos, socialistinės kultūros kūrimo uždavinių yra užduotis, kurios esmė – kalbos tvar- kymas, jos valymas nuo kalbos šiukšlių ir parazitų. [...] Kova dėl kalbos grynumo, semantinio tikslumo, kalbos aiškumo yra kova už kultūros instrumentą. Kuo šis instrumentas aštresnis, tuo jis produkty- vesnis.“ (GORKIJ, M., Œuvres complètes, t. 27, p. 169–170, cit. Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 204). Socialinės profilaktikos tikslas – orga- nizmo, kūno gynyba, nes jam daroma žala pripažinta kaip patologinė: B. S. Fivarc- kopfas (straipsnyje «Bureaucratismes dans la langue» („Biurokratizmas kalboje“), Encyclopédie du russe 1979) kalbos de- gradaciją pavadino liga. Kokia tai kalba, jei jos vienybei, vientisumui, panašiai kaip tėvynei, gali grėsti pavojus? Kokia tai visuma, apie kurią galime pasakyti, kad ją mylime? Šis „nesurandamas“6 objektas, kurį griebiamasi ginti ir puoselėti nuolat jį „konstruojant“ ir nurodant gaires to, kas draudžiama? Visi šie pareiškimai, kuriuos išdėstėme daugeliu punktų, primena Pran- cūzijos Trečiosios Respublikos7 ideologinę prancūzų kalbos viziją. Tačiau, regis, esmi- nis skirtumas glūdi pripažinime, kad SSRS yra daugianacionalinė, taigi ir daugiakalbė valstybė. 6 Plg. F. Gadet ir M. Pêcheux knygos pavadinimą: La langue introuvable (Nesurandama kalba) (1981). 7 Plg. Mainguenau 1979 ir 1982. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 247V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY 2.2. Alofonai ir „antroji gimtoji kalba“ Iš tikrųjų visiškai kitokia yra nerusakalbių meilės rusų kalbai problema, nes meilės santykiai čia a priori yra neišvengiamai kitokio pobūdžio, kadangi jie nebesusiję su gimtąja kalba. Tačiau aistra čia kunkuliuoja arba bent jau pavaizduota. Štai Šermuxame- dovo knyga mums pateikia ištisus SSRS literatūros antologijos puslapius, kuriuose nerusų tautybės poetai ir rašytojai vienu balsu rusiškai apdainuoja savo meilę rusų kalbai. Pavyzdžiui, „šiuolaikinis sovietinis Uzbekistano poetas Mirmuksinas“ rašo: „Motinos kalba tapo poeto kalba. Subrendęs aš išmokau kitą gimtąją kalbą, Tai buvo rusų kalba, artima mano širdžiai kalba. Tai rusų kalba skambėjo išdidus šaukimas į laisvę, Tai rusų kalba kreipėsi į liaudį mūsų Iljyčius. [247] Mylėk ją, mano drauge, kaip liaudis ją myli, Tai – tiltas tarp žmonių, tai – vienybė ir sąjunga.“ (Cit. Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 107) Kiekvienoje sąjunginėje respublikoje galima rasti rusų kalbą garbinantį poetą – kaip šį į Vakarus besikreipiantį kirgizą: „Garsus kirgizų poetas Kubaničius Akaevas poetine forma išreiškė rusų liaudies ir rusų kalbos didžiosios misijos idėją: „Tad žinokite, Londonai, Paryžiau, Vašingtone, Kad aš esu įsimylėjęs Maskvą, Rusiją. Klausyk, o pasauli: aš myliu šią kalbą Rusų kalbą, kuri yra galinga ir didinga. Kaip aš galėčiau nežinoti Puškino eilių? Būtent rusų kalba aš mokiausi marksizmo, Mano brolis rusas man davė vėliavą. Su mūsų Leninu širdyje gyvena Visa ši dviejų šimtų milijoninė žmonių tauta. Prieš visą pasaulį aš didžiuojuosi Tavąja kalba, o šlovingoji Rusija!“ (Cit. Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 65) Paradoksalu, bet poetų nerusų ryšis su rusų kalba atrodo daug glaudesnis, nes pati tema iš esmės dažniausiai gvildenama ne- rusų pareiškimuose apie rusų kalbą. Juose tvirtinama, kad ši kalba tapo jų „antrąja gimtąja kalba“ (vtoroj rodnoj jazyk): „Bū- tina paaiškinti, dėl kokių socialinių priežaš- čių rusų kalba tapo antrąja gimtąja kalba visoms Dagestano tautoms.“ (Gamzatov 1980, p. 247) Žymus turkmėnų rašytojas, socialistinio darbo didvyris Berdy Muradovičius Kerba- bajevas (1894–1974), reikšmingų darbų, tapusių neatsiejama sovietų literatūros lobyno dalimi, autorius rašė: „Rusų kalba tapo mums, kitų tautybių atstovams, antrąja gimtąja kalba. Nors rusų kalbos gramatika labai sudėtinga. Todėl būtina mokytis rusų kalbos nuo ankstyvos vaikystės.“ (Cit. Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 91). Šis teiginys, nuolat cituojamas skaitytoje literatūroje, sulaukė tam tikro užsienio kalbininkų skepticizmo: [248] „Nepaisant kai kurių pareiškimų, šiek tiek per anksti teigti, kad rusų kalba tapo visų sovietinių tautų „antrą- ja gimtąja kalba“. (Creissels 1977, p. 28). Tačiau diskusijos tikslas yra kitas. Kal- bama ne apie tai, ar tai tiesa, kad rusų kalba tapo antrąja kalba nerusiškoms tautoms, o apie tai, kokios tų nuvalkiotų teiginių priežastys oficialioje propagandoje. Nesi- imsime kaltinti sovietų lingvistikos „melu“ lygindami pareiškimus su „faktais“, bet pasistengsime išanalizuoti šio oficialiojo diskurso vidinį nuoseklumą, jo politines ir ideologines nuostatas, ir tikrai jo netrak- tuosime kaip lingvistinio darbo, galinčio nušviesti „realią“ rusų kalbos padėtį Sovietų Sąjungoje.8 Tad ir toliau sekime metaforą. Jei rusų kalba tapo antrąja gimtąja kalba 8 Priešingai Legrandui (1978), kuris, pavyzdžiui, pažodžiui perima Deserijevo, Budagovo ir t. t. formu- luotes. 248 V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY nerusams, vadinasi, Rusija yra jų antroji „motina“: „Mums buvo leista suprasti rusų kalba Brolystės įstatymus, Nes draugystė – tai Rusija, Tai mūsų motina, mus jos moko.“ (Murzo Tursin-zade: „Brolybės įstatymai“, cit. Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 138) Taigi įsivaizduojamas gimtosios kalbos dubliavimas, meilė rusų kalbai veda prie kraštutinės jos pasekmės – prašymo būti įvaikintam: „Dagestano tautos kiekvieną akimirką jaučia prisirišimą prie šios kalbos, apie kurią rašytojas Effendis Kapijevas ištarė šiuos reikšmingus žodžius: „O di- džioji rusų kalba! Aš klaupiuosi prieš tave ant kelių: įsivaikink ir palaimink mane!“ Tai ne tik spalvinga frazė: šiame sakinyje atsispindi visa dagestaniečių meilė didžia- jai rusų kalbai, kuri juos suvienija tiek su savomis, tiek ir su kitomis mūsų plačiosios šalies tautomis.“ (Gamzatov 1983, p. 247). Tačiau būtų labai įdomu pasistengti suprasti, kodėl ir kaip įmanoma mylėti kito motiną kaip savąją. Svarbu pažymėti, kad nerusų meilės rusų kalbai formos, atrodo, niekuo nesiskiria nuo rusų meilės gimtajai kalbai formų, nebent išskyrus aistros kraš- tutinumus. Ir nors žodžio prasmės žyme- kliai mat’ „motina“ [249] ir more „jūra“ rusų kalboje susiję ne taip, kaip prancūzų kalboje (mère ir mer), vis dėlto negalima likti abejingu skaitant balkarų poeto Mak- simo Getujevo eilėraštį, pavadintą „Rusų kalba“, kuriame meilė motinai lyginama su susižavėjimu beribe ir gilia vandens mase, svetingu ir skleidžiančiu ramybę okeanu, malšinančiu troškulį ir uždegančiu norą veikti vandeniu, – vaizdiniais, kokių apstu Edipo komplekso psichoanalizės istorijų pasakojimuose: „Kas yra panašus į jūrą? paklaus manęs – Rusų kalba, atsakysiu aš nedvejodamas. Kaip jūra jį šildo žemę, Vasaros sausrų metu ji atgaivina. Jos beribiai vandenys, Švyti nuo neužgesinamos saulės šviesos; Link tolimųjų kraštų gerųjų žmonių Plūsta jos vandenys, nešdami šiltą pasveikinimą. Rusų kalba yra beribė jūra! Jos gelmėse aš radau tai, ko tikėjausi: Aš sužvejojau raktą, kuris moko džiaugtis, Tas raktas buvo rusiškas žodis. [...] Rusiški žodžiai, aš juos geriu be atvangos, Tarsi čiurlenantį šaltinio vandenį; Kuo daugiau šio gyvojo gėrimo išgeriu, Tuo stipriau jaučiu jo troškulį, ir taip kasmet. Rusų kalba! Joje, kaip beribėse jūros gelmėse, Aš semiuosi jėgų drąsiems sprendimams, Ji įkvepia pasiaukojančiam darbui, Puikių ateities laimėjimų vardan.“ (Cit. Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 111) Šis maudymasis kalboje, primenantis tradicinę „kalbos vonios“ metaforą, gali atskleisti labai įdomų reiškinį, kurį galėtu- me formuluoti kaip klausimą: gal tai Edipo kompleksas, kuris jaučiamas įvaikinusiai motinai? Kaip galima mylėti kalbą, kuri nėra gimtoji, taip, tarsi tai būtų gimtoji kalba? Šis diskursas apie „antrąją gimtąją kalbą“ pagrįstas metaforiška šeiminių ryšių serija: – vieninga visų Sovietų Sąjungos tautų šeima – didysis brolis – tautos-broliai [250] – respublikos-sesės – motina Rusija – motina – Tėvynė. Būtent šeimos metafora leidžia įsivaiz- duoti daug mažų kūnų dideliame kūne, toks ir yra Sovietų Sąjunga, tikra asimetriška piramidė, kurioje, greta kaimynų kalbų, viena kalba aprėpia ir pranoksta visas kitas, tai kalba, kuri tuo pat metu yra ir visuma, ir dalis, „lygi tarp lygių“ (Šermuxamedov I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 249V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY 1980): „Didžioji rusų kalba. Būtent šeimos ryšys padaro neprieštaringais tokius prieš- taringus dalykus: visuomenės be vidaus padalinių sąvoką ir įvairių „tautybių“ pri- pažinimą; didžiosios rusų, kaip visų Sovietų Sąjungos tautų, gimtosios kalbos (pirmosios ar „antrosios“) pripažinimą ir įvairių kalbų sugyvenimą tarpusavyje; lygiai taip, kaip ir socialinės profilaktikos praktika leidžia suderinti rusų kalbos, kaip gyvo kūno, vientisumo idealą su to kūno valymu nuo jo „parazitų“. Visiškai neįmanoma vienos šeimos narius vienijančios didžiosios rusų kalbos pakeisti kita ar kitomis kalbomis, nes ji yra iš esmės kitokios prigimties, vie- nintelė9, homogenišką visuomenę galinti padaryti skaidria, galinti užtikrinti „vienos liaudies“ tarpusavio bendravimą, liaudies, kurią vienija meilė bendravimo priemonei (plg. Claude’o Leforto žodžius straipsnyje «L’image du corps et le totalitarisme» („Kūno įvaizdis ir totalitarizmas“) (Lefort 1981). 2.3. Tapatybė, narystė ir tai, kas nustatoma Šeimos metaforoje dalių santykiai su vi- suma sukuria ne mažiau problemų, kaip ir tų dalių tarpusavio santykiai arba atskiros dalies su kokia nors vidaus problema. Taigi iškyla identiško vieneto, Vieno ir Visumos problema. Jeigu mes galime kalbėti apie „Tarybų Sąjungos tautų“ kalbas, tai todėl, kad Sovietų Sąjungoje yra „tautos“. Bet tada iškyla klausimas, kas yra tos „tautos“ daugiskaitoje? Ar tai realus dalykas, ar diskusijos objektas? „Tauta“ Sovietų Są- jungoje yra atskiras subjektas, Taip arba 9 Dėl vidinių priežaščių, kurios, kaip manoma, leido tik vienai rusų kalbai atlikti šį vaidmenį Sovietų Sąjungoje (plg. Sériot 1984). Ne, o ne daugiau ar mažiau. Tačiau tauta kaip tokia juk gali išnykti tam, kad po daugelio metų pasirodytų vėl.10 Tauta kaip visuma turi priešintis kitoms tautoms: pasak A. V. Lunačiarskio, „žmogiškojoje simfo- nijoje“, sukurtoje Spalio revoliucijos metu, ateities komunistinės visuomenės kultūra, Centrinės Azijos ir Kazachstano tautų kul- tūros išreikštos garsais, kurie, susimaišę su kitų tautų-sesių kultūromis, sukuria „laisvą ir turtingą harmoniją“. (Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 113). Tautybė yra eilutė, kuri privalo būti už- pildyta pase, tai – formuliaro eilutė atsakant į klausimyną (plg., pavyzdžiui, gyventojų surašymą): mes visada priklausome kokiai nors tautai, esame kokios nors pilietybės.11 Taigi tautos egzistuoja. Jos skiriasi vienos nuo kitų. Tačiau jų skirtumų ribos yra labai banguotos. Todėl ir matome „mažų tautų“, apsisprendusių įsilieti į kitos, didesnės, tautos kūną, metamorfozę, kurioje susipina meilė, dvilypumas, nerimas12 ir administra- cinis griežtumas, nes absorbcijos proceso pabaigoje atsiras nauja tapatybė, kuri nors ir skirsis nuo buvusios, bet visada bus tik vienas atsakymas klausimyne, tik vienu, suteiktu naujai narystei, pavadinimu, kuris 10 Plg. Krymo totoriai, 1921 m. pripažinti kaip „tau- tybė“, 1944 m. masiškai deportuoti į Sibirą. Jie matė, kaip buvo sunaikinta jų respublika, paneigtas jų naci- onalinis identitetas, kaip buvo viešai paskelbta, kad jų gimtoji kalba – „neturinti rašto kalba“. 1967 m. reabili- tuoti kaip „rezidavusi Kryme totorių tauta“, vis dėlto jie neprardo savo ryšių su teritorija (plg. Carrère d’Encaus- se 1978, p. 236–245). 11 Terminija itin nestabili. Žinoma, vilkas Volk nėra tauta Nation, tačiau dvi sąvokos „liaudis“ peuple (na- rod) ir „tautybė“ nationalité (nacional’nost’) Sovietų Sąjungoje dažnai suplakamos. Romantiškos emociona- lios kategorijos susipina ir susipainioja su administraci- nėmis. 12 J. Lacanas čia bus įžiūrėjęs įmanomus lytinius santykius: vieno kūnas tampa kito kūnu, susigeria vie- nas į kitą totalioje absorbcijoje. 250 V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY niekuo nesiskirs nuo ją absorbavusios tau- tos pavadinimo: „Tam tikros tautybės ar negausios etninės grupelės po ilgus metus trukusių draugiškų santykių su reikšmin- gesnėmis nacijomis pareiškė norą visiškai susilieti su jomis. Taip, pavyzdžiui, nuo 1926 iki 1939 m. pomorai, gyvenantys šiauriniame Archangelsko regione, o kamčadalai, kerdžakai, kurie gyvena Alta- jaus krašte, ir kiti liovėsi save laikę atskira tautybe ir prisijungė prie rusų. [...] Šiems kalbų konsolidavimosi procesams mūsų šalyje būdinga tai, kad kalbantieji šiomis mažumų kalbomis savanoriškai prisijungė prie kitų tautų, nes tai puikiai atitiko jų interesus, skatino jų ekonominį ir kultūrinį vystymąsi.“ (Šermuxamedov 1980, p. 35). Tas pat, ką galima pasakyti apie tautas, pasakytina ir apie kalbas: „Priešrevoliuciniu laikotarpiu arba iki 1950-ųjų sovietmečiu specialiose publikacijose minimos kajtagų [252] ir kubačių kalbos. Vėliau jos jau pri- pažįstamos tik kaip dargių kalbos tarmės, o jomis kalbantieji, valstybinio gyventojų surašymo duomenimis, jau prisiskyrė dar- giams.“ (Gamzatov 1980, p. 125). Tad kur tada glūdi kalbos „išskirtinu- mas“ (plg. Milner 1978)? Kas yra tauta, kas yra kalba, jei jų ribos gali būti keičiamos suinteresuotųjų noru ar administraciniu sprendimu? Jeigu yra kalbų, tai todėl, kad taip nori „Vienetas“ (Ten pat), bet to „Vie- neto“ ribos mūsų sovietiniuose tekstuose gali tapti keistai neryškios, panašiai kaip nepaprastas inkliuzų hierarchijos elas- tingumas: jeigu „Vienetą“ patalpinsime į kitą, „didesnį „Vienetą“, tai kalbos po šios įtraukties greitai bus pavadintos „dialek- tais“. Taigi kalbos išskirtinumo proble- ma, lingvistikai būdinga epistemologinė problema, yra labai glaudžiai susijusi su politika. Pavyzdžiui, moldavų kalba: kas ji? rumunų kalba ar jos atmaina, ar atskiras dialektas? o gal visiškai skirtinga kalba? Arba karelų kalba: ar tai suomių ar nesuo- mių kalba, o azerbaidžianiečių kalba: ar tai turkų kalba, ar dvi skirtingos kalbos? Ar tokie klausimai turi prasmę? Matyt, turi, bent jau administraciniu požiūriu, nes mes negalime tuo pačiu vardu įvardyti skirtingų dalykų.13 Todėl reikia pasirinkti savo kalbos pavadinimą,14 panašiai kaip pasirenkama priklausomybė vienai tautai pagal iš anksto numatytą administracinę sistemą: totorių ir baškirų kalbos yra tokios artimos, kad iš tikrųjų galėtų būti viena kalba, tačiau tarp jų buvo dirbtinai didinami skirtumai, taip pat ir rašybos; padarytos dvi alternatyvos, iš kurių reikėjo būtinai rinktis (žr. Creissels 1977, p. 4). Tas pat pasakytina ir apie tau- tybes (estų, kirgizų) bei (Sovietų Sąjungos) pilietybę: tai sovietinių emigrantų (tų, kurie emigruodami prarado savo tėvynę – re- negatų (otšepency)) likimas, kuris reiškė turėto pripažinto statuso, vietos, kuri buvo numatyta sovietinėje topologijoje, praradimą. Jie tapo nenaudingais nariais, atskirtais nuo savo tautos kūno. Bet jeigu jie jau nebėra liaudies (pavyzdžiui, rusų) nariai, tada kyla klausimas: kokia kalba jie kalba? Šia tema Sovietų Sąjungoje visiškai nekalbėta, bet iššūkis buvo mestas pačiai kalbai: pavyzdžiui, prisiminkime Solženi- cyną, atkuriantį pamirštų žodžių žodyną ir siekiantį tikslo – kuo skrupulingiau atkurti „tikrąją“ rusų kalbą, autentiškesnę nei toji, 13 Plg., pavyzdžiui, makedoniečių ir bulgarų kalbų problemą koministiniu laikotarpiu. Makedoniečių kalba buvo oficiali Jugoslavijos kalba, bet Bulgarijoje ji buvo laikoma bulgarų kalba, šis faktas leido bulgarų vyriau- sybei nesuteikti juridinio nacionalinių mažumų statuso Bulgarijos makedoniečiams (apie tai plg. Sériot 1997). 14 Plg. Tabouret-Keller 1997. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 251V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY kuria kalbama Sovietų Sąjungoje. Kur yra kalba? Kaip ją pasiekti? [253] 3. Iš kraštutinumų suartėjimo: kur yra kairė, kur dešinė / atgautas (sveikas) protas 3.1. Vienos liaudies viena kalba Jei demokratija yra nevykęs visuomenės sutapatinimas su kūnu, tai totalitarizmo api- brėžtį nusakysime kaip socialinių skirtumų ženklų ištrynimą, kaip visų neapibrėžtumų pašalinimą. „Viena liaudis“15 yra skaidri visuomenė, bet šis skaidrumo idealas at- skleidžia pasibaisėtiną skaidrumo trūkumą. Vienas iš Brežnevo laikotarpio režimui pataikavusių kalbininkų, Budagovas, taip puola „kelių kalbų toje pačioje kalboje“ idėją: „Tokie skirtumai, patys savaime svarbūs ir įdomūs, tikrovėje niekada nepa- naikina bendros, turinčios seną tradiciją, nacionalinės kalbos vienybės (obščena- cional’nyj jazyk). Tokiais atvejais, žinoma, reikia kalbėti ne apie skirtingas kalbas, esančias vienoje kalboje (contradictio in adjecto), o apie tos pačios vienos kalbos variantus, apie jos funkcines stratifikacijas, formas ir įvairius aspektus. Priešingu atveju kalbantieji ta pačia kalba nesuprastų vieni kitų ir žmonės nesusikalbėtų. Taigi mokslo ir technologijų revoliucijos epochoje, kaip ir anksčiau, ta pačia kalba kalbantys žmo- nės, apskritai, puikiai supranta vieni kitus, nepaisant pačios kalbos sudėtingumo ir vis augančių bei didėjančių jos aspektų įvai- rovės.“ (Budagov 1975, p. 11). Tai, kas buvo pasakyta, tikrai dar ne- reiškia, kad kalba turėtų būti asimiliuota ideologijos. Kalbos dėka žmonėms pavyksta suprasti vieniems kitus (būtent „pavyksta“, 15 Claude’o Leforto posakis (1981). dažnai įveikiant sunkumus), taip pat ir skir- tingų ideologijų atstovus. Jie garsiąją frazę „revoliucija atveria žmonėms kelią į žinių pasaulį“ gali interpretuoti skirtingai. Tačiau apie ką kalbama, visiems yra aišku. Ir prie- šingai, tokia kalbos konstrukcija, kaip „šis apvalus stalas yra stačiakampio formos“, yra neaiški, nes ji neatlieka jokios kalbinės funkcijos (komunikacinės, nominatyvinės, minčių ar jausmų ekspresinės), taigi ji nieko neturi bendro su kalba. (Ten pat, p. 20) [254] 3.2. Tautos kūnai, kalbančiųjų kūnai Sovietinė rasinė penktojo–šeštojo dešimt- mečių antropologija yra stebėtinai mažai studijuota sritis.16 Aš tik paminėsiu, kad Rusų tautos rasinė genezė racio-Genesis (rasogenez) buvo labai dažna mokslinių tyrimų tema tokiose prestižinėse SSRS mokslinėse institucijose, kaip Mokslų aka- demijos etnografijos institutas ar Maskvos universiteto antropologijos katedra, kurios, 1955–1959 m. ėmėsi vykdyti „Antropologi- nę Rusijos ekspediciją“, kurios esmė – at- likti antropometrinius „17 000 suaugusiųjų Rusijos vyrų ir moterų, kilusių iš 107 skir- tingų RSFSR rajonų“ matavimus (Bunak 1965, p. 3). Kaukolės matavimai, plaukų ar akies rainelės spalvos palyginamosios lentelės savo obsesine, maniakiška „an- tropologinių tipų“ paieška primena Vichy režimo koloborantų Prancūzijoje rasistinės antropologijos darbus.17 16 Apie sovietinę antropologiją 1920–1930 plg. Bertrand 2002; Apie posovietinę antropologiją plg. La- ruelle 2000. Apie sovietinės brežnevinio periodo antro- pologijos ir Pietų Afrikos aparteido teoretikų ryšius plg. Sériot, tuoj pasirodys. 17 Plg. Montandon 1935, ir žurnalas L’Ethnie française (Etninė prancūzų grupė), red. G. Montandon, spausdintas vokiečių okupacijos metu Prancūzijoje. 252 V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY Ši mokslinių tyrimų tema atveria įdo- mias galimybes koncepcijoms apie so- matinę antropologiją ir antropometriją Sovietų Sąjungoje bei Europos šalyse, lyginamiesiems moksliniams tyrimams. Bet svarbiausia yra tai, kad mokslinių tipų tyrimas Bunako knygoje prasideda nuo to, ko buvo tikėtasi: nuo atitikimo tarp „regi- oninių antropologinių tipų“ ir „dialektinių provincijų“ teorijos (Bunak 1965, p. 274). 3.3. Konservatyvus diskursas apie visuomenę? Top of FoTrumpai pastebėsime tai, ką būtų galima išdėstyti atskiroje knygoje: idėja apie totalų visuomenės vyravimą individų atžvilgiu, taip išliaupsinta diskurse apie kalbą Sovietų Sąjungoje per visą jos isto- riją, šaknijasi tiek konservatyvioje XIX a. vidurio slavofilų ideologijoje, tiek „ultra“ prancūzų (didžiųjų mąstytojų reakcionie- rių ir kontrrevoliucionierių, tokių kaip Josephas de Maistre’as (1753–1821) ar Louis de Bonaldas (1754–1840)) socialinėje filosofijoje. Sociologijos ir XIX a. konserva- tyvios minties giminystė – Roberto Nisbeto [235] disertacijos Tradicinė sociologija tema (Nisbet 1984). Tik priminsime, kad, pasak L. Bonaldo, „žmogus egzistuoja tik visuomenėje ir visuomenė jį suformuoja tik sau“ (Bonald 1818, p. 3, cit. iš Koyré 1971, p. 132). Išvados Tiesą sakant, oponentai sako tą patį: ar kiekvienai klasei, ar kiekvienai tautai – sava kalba, abiem atvejais mes susiduriame su esencialistų koncepcija, kuri puikiai suta- patina uždarą grupę su kalba. Tad naudinga priminti visus aspektus, kurie išnyko arba kurių atsisako ši totalitarinė kalbančiųjų vizija. Pirmasis aspektas būtų diskursas, nes nepripažįstama, kad gali būti keli diskursai apie tą pačią kalbą. Antrasis aspektas – tema, konkrečiai noro ir stygiaus temos. Trečiasis – prasmės aspektas: galiausiai – prasmės nesutapimas su gerai parengtu konsensusu. Belieka ištirti santykių su kalba transformacijas akademiniuose ir viešuose posovietinės Rusijos erdvės diskursuose. Bet tai – kitam kartui... Literatūra BERTRAND, F., 2002. L’anthropologie soviétique des années 20–30. Bordeaux: Presses Universitaires de Bordeaux. BUDAGOV, R., 1975. Čto takoe obščestvennaja priroda jazyka? Voprosy jazykoznanija, 3. BONALD, L., 1818. Théorie du pouvoir politique et religieux, Préface. In: BONALD, L. Œuvres, vol. XIII. BUNAK, V., 1965. Proisxoždenie i étničeskaja istorija russkogo naroda. Moskva: Nauka. C A R R E R E D ’ E N C A U S S E , H . , 1 9 7 8 . L’Empire éclaté. Livre de poche. CREISSELS, D., 1977. Les langues d’URSS (Aspects linguistiques et sociolinguistiques). Paris: Institut d’Etudes Slaves. Encyclopédie du russe, 1979. Ouvrage édité sous la direction de Filin, Moscou. GADET, F.; PECHEUX, M., 1981. La langue introuvable. Paris: Maspero. GAMZATOV, P., 1980. Razvitie jazykovoj žiz- ni Dagestana v uslovijax zrelogo socialističeskogo občřestva. Voprosy jazykoznanija, 3, 123–128. KOYRE, A., 1971. Etudes d’histoire de la pensée philosophique. Paris: Gallimard. LARUELLE, M., 2000. Lev Goumilev (1912– 1992). Biologisme et eurasisme en Russie. Revue des Etudes Slaves. Fasc. 1–2, 163–190. LEFORT, C., 1981. L’image du corps et le totalitarisme. In: L’invention démocratique. Paris: Fayard. I. PROBLEMOS IR SPRENDIMAI 253V. MŪSŲ VERTIMAI / NASZE PRZEKŁADY LEGRAND, J., 1978. La sociolinguistique en URSS. In: J. B. Marcellesi, B. Gardin, éd. Actes du colloque de sociolinguistique de Rouen. Lille: P.U.L. LJUSTROVA, Z.; SKVORCOV, L.; DERJA- GIN, V., 1982. Druz’jam russkogo jazyka. Moskva. MAINGUENAU, D., 1979. Les livres d’école de la République, 1870–1914 (Discours et idéolo- gie). Paris: Le Sycomore. MAINGUENAU, D., 1982. La Droite et la Gauche face à la clarté de la langue française, un consensus illusoire sous la IIIe République. Ar- chives et documents de la S.H.E.S.L., 2. MILNER, J.-C., 1978. L’amour de la langue. Paris: Seuil. MONTANDON, G., 1935. L’ethnie française. Paris: Payot. NISBET, R., 1984. La tradition sociologique. Paris: P.U.F. PAUSTOVSKIJ, K., 1953. Article dans Pio- nerskaja Pravda. 23 février. PROKOPOVIČ, N.; BELOŠAPKOVA, V., 1972. Préface au livre de V. Vinogradov. In: Russkij jazyk. Moskva. SERIOT, P., 1984. Pourquoi la langue russe est-elle grande? (matériaux pour une recherche). In: Essais sur le discours soviétique, 4. Univ. de Grenoble-III, 57–92. SERIOT, P., 1997. Faut-il que les langues aient un nom? Le cas du macédonien. In: A. Tabou- ret-Keller, éd. Le nom des langues. 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MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGO K o n f e r e n c i j ų a p ž v a l g o s / K o n f e r e n c j e TRANSDISCIPLINARY DIALOGUE ABOUT THE WIDER EUROPE: EUROPEANIZATION, MULTICULTURALISM, PLURILINGUALISM AND OTHER ISSUES Tatiana Larina (Rusija / Rosja) We live in the time of globalization, which, whether viewed positively or negatively, is our reality and should be not only ac- cepted but also studied. It is an exciting and challenging time for researchers in the humanities, as it is difficult to define any sphere of life as purely national; there is an important European and global dimension to most contemporary economic, social, political, cultural, and language matters. In this respect, the conference “Towards a Eu- ropean Society? Transgressing Disciplinary Boundaries in European Studies Research,” organized by the Centre for European and International Studies Research of the University of Portsmouth and held there from 28–30 June, was of great interest and importance. As the call for papers said, recent re- search has moved past the original narrow focus on politics and policy-making in “Brussels” to explore the manifold dimen- sions of the emerging European society. At the same time, researchers with an interest in the EU and the wider Europe need to cooperate even more closely across disci- plinary divides to better understand what is now frequently but loosely referred to as the “Europeanization” of Europe. To this end, the conference was aimed at fostering transdisciplinary dialogue and defining new agendas for research on the EU and the wider Europe, bringing together researchers from political science, sociology, linguis- tics, history, cultural studies and other fields. The conference was a great opportunity to exchange opinions and learn new ideas, as well as an educational event of great importance, for among the participants were many outstanding scholars in different fields from different countries: Professor of Politi- cal Science Tanja A. Börzel and Professor of International Relations Thomas Risse from the Free University of Berlin; Profes- sor of Political Science Didier Georgakakis from the Institute of Political Studies (IEP), University of Strasbourg; Professor of Euro- pean Integration and Transatlantic History Kiran Klaus Patel (University of Maas- tricht); Professor of Politics Martin Schain (New York University); Dr. Nikolai Vukov, Associate Professor of Anthropology and Folklore Studies (Bulgarian Academy of Sciences); and many others. VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGOAI 255 There were six parallel sessions wherein the problems of political discourse and me- dia culture, international organizations and the Europeanization of cultural policy and practice, European integration, linguistic and cultural identities, and other issues were discussed. I will concentrate on the panel called “Linguistic and cultural identi- ties of the wider Europe: within and across borders, disciplines and practices,” in which I participated. The panel was organized by the Euro- pean Network for Intercultural Education Activities (ENIEDA) and was devoted to some key issues in the area of linguistics and intercultural studies. It was focused on approaches to understanding the emerging cultural and linguistic situation in Europe. The problems of intercultural communi- cative competence, overcoming ethnic stereotypes, and efficient intercultural communication, as well as globalization, mobility and migration and their impact on language and its use, were all in the centre of discussion. On the whole there were six presenta- tions in this panel, started by Dr. Svet- lana Kurtes (University of Portsmouth), vice-president of ENIEDA and one of the panel’s conveners. In her substantial talk (Linguistic and (inter)cultural education across European curricula: state of affairs and future perspectives), she revisited some theoretical and practical issues in the field of linguistic and intercultural education. Focusing on the impact that linguistic and intercultural skills can potentially have on the individual and his/her academic and professional achievements, she drew atten- tion to the recommendations proposed by relevant European institutions, particularly the Council of Europe, for dealing with the promotion of multilingualism and multi- culturalism in the member states. Putting a particular emphasis on key competences in linguistic and intercultural education, she named and characterized the main intercul- tural skills which should be in the focus of language teachers: • the ability to bring the culture of origin and the foreign culture into relation with each other, • cultural sensitivity and the ability to identify and use a variety of strategies for contact with those from other cultures, • the capacity to fulfil the role of cultural intermediary between one’s own cultu- re and the foreign culture and to deal effectively with intercultural misunders- tandings and conflict situations, and • the ability to overcome stereotyped relationships. Based on her personal teaching experi- ence, she outlined the ways such skills could be developed. Dr. Igor Lakic from the University of Montenegro talked about language policy in Montenegro—its practices, challenges and directions. Starting with the European Charter for Regional and Minority Lan- guages and the recommendations made therein, he characterized the linguistic situation in Montenegro, which in many respects is specific and is currently under scrutiny, given the country’s status as an EU candidate. Apart from two obviously distinctive languages—Albanian and Ro- mani—that are protected under the Char- ter, some new languages arising from the former Serbo-Croatian have acquired the status of languages in official use (Serbian, Bosnian, and Croatian, in addition to Alba- 256 VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGO nian), with Montenegrin being the official language. Romani, on the other hand, is not specifically listed in the Constitution of Montenegro, although it is protected by the authorities as a minority language. In his conclusions he discussed some recent challenges and possible future directions in the light of the new realities. The role of media practices and products in the process of European integration and identity formation was discussed by Dr. Monika Kopytowska (University of Lodz, Poland). Treating media discourse as both socially and culturally constituted and con- stitutive, she examined the media’s represen- tation of immigrants and immigration (with a special emphasis on the so-called new national minorities) in Poland. Data from the mainstream nationwide printed news media were examined in terms of lexical, gram- matical, stylistic, and pragmatic choices. Dr. Monica Mosca from the University of Eastern Piedmont (Vercelli, Italy) devot- ed her presentation to the linguistic integra- tion of immigrants in Italy. She pointed out that an extended notion of Europe does not simply imply an increase in the number of languages to be taken into account and the corresponding problems of mutual under- standing and integration, but also the need to receive and integrate the ever-growing wave of immigrants. Analysing the problem of migrants’ adoption and integration in Italy, where the official language coexists often with vital dialects, she stated the fact that migrants in Italy tend in many cases to learn the dialect first, and only then the national language, with different motivations and different degrees of success. Dr. Alcina Sousa from the University of Madeira (Portugal) considered mobility and migration issues in the scope of their impact on language use—common patterns—and language changes in communicative prac- tices. She gave a comprehensive account of a number of communicative situations in European Portuguese, drawing on data collected from respondents’ answers to VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGOAI 257 questionnaires in Portuguese-speaking set- tings in which there is a strong influence of the English language upon Portuguese. She focused on lexical, syntactic and pragmatic choices. In my presentation (Culture-specific communicative styles and language peda- gogy: with reference to Russian speak- ers of English as a foreign language), I highlighted the importance of intercultural awareness in language learning and teach- ing and suggested some practical solutions. I argued that nowadays, anthropological and interdisciplinary approaches should be im- plemented not only in the study of language, but also in language teaching, as language learners should be provided with a wide scope of knowledge from all humanitarian areas including culture studies, sociology, axiology, ethnopsychology, communication theory, etc. Starting with some pragmatic failures which often occur in English/Rus- sian dialogue and a short discussion of how culture-specific norms and values influence communicative behaviour, I demonstrated how differences in the British and Russian mentalities impact on the culture-specific communicative styles of their speakers, and showed that knowledge of the main stylistic features might be an efficient guideline in intercultural communication. Taking into account previous studies on language and culture (e.g., Clyne 1994, Wierzbicka 2002, 2006a, 2006b, and others), cross-cultural pragmatics (Thomas 1983, 1995; Wierz- bicka 1991/2003), communicative styles (Gudykunst and Ting-Toomey 1990), and the phenomenon of (im)politeness (Brown and Levinson 1987; Leech 1983; Watts 2003; Culpeper, Bousfield and Wichmann 2003; Bousfield and Locher 2008), and based on the results of an empirical study, I tried to outline the main characteristics of English vs. Russian communicative styles by explaining them through differences in cultures, communicative values and under- standing of politeness. This allowed me to suggest a set of “rules” (recommendations) 258 VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGO for a “grammar of behaviour” for Russian students of English. (For more details about the differences in English and Russian com- municative styles, see Larina 2008, 2009, 2012). The pedagogical implications of these rules were illustrated with examples from my own professional experience teaching English to university students in Russia and developing their ability to un- derstand “what is meant by what is said”—a necessary prerequisite for successful com- munication in intercultural settings, whether professional, academic or general. The panel concluded with a discussion led by Prof. Giacomo Ferrari (University of Eastern Piedmont “Amedeo Avogadro,” Vercelli, Italy), president of ENIEDA, highlighting the main points raised in the presentations and suggesting further av- enues for research and development. It was followed by a keen discussion initiated by members of the audience. In conclusion, I would like to say a few words about ENIEDA (the European Net- work for Intercultural Education Activities) and its aims. The Network was launched on the occasion of the First International Conference on Linguistic and Intercultural Education (CLIE1), convened and hosted by the University of Alba Iulia, Romania, 27–29 November 2008. Its anchoring standpoint derives from the Preamble of the 1982 Recommendations of the Council of Europe’s Committee of Ministers, in which they acknowledge the fact “that the rich heritage of diverse languages and cultures in Europe is a valuable common resource to be protected and developed, and that a major educational effort is needed to convert that diversity from a barrier to communication into a source of mutual enrichment and un- derstanding; [and…] that it is only through a better knowledge of European modern languages that it will be possible to facili- tate communication and interaction among Europeans of different mother tongues in order to promote European mobility, mutual understanding and co-operation, and over- come prejudice and discrimination” (Rec- ommendations R (82) 18). The members of the network share the values of plurilingualism and multicultural- ism and are fully committed to promoting them within and across geographical and disciplinary borders through their pedagogi- cal and professional interests and activities. They assume that linguistic and cultural education is instrumental in creating a competent communicator able to function effectively in intercultural settings. More information about the network and its activi- ties can be found at <http://www.enieda.eu>. ENIEDA welcomes new members who share the same interests and values. References BROWN, P.; LEVINSON, S. D., 1987. Po- liteness: Some Universals in Language Usage. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. BOUSFIELD, D.; LOCHER, M. A., 2008 (Eds.). Impoliteness in Language. Studies on its interplay with Power in Theory and Practice. Berlin and New York: Mouton de Gruyter. CULPEPER, J.; BOUSFIELD, D.; WICH- MANN, A., 2003. Impoliteness revisited: With special reference to dynamic and prosodic aspects. Journal of Pragmatics, 35, 1545–1579. GUDYKUNST, W.; TING-TOOMEY, S., 1990. Culture and Interpersonal Communication. Sage Series. Interpersonal communication 8. Sage Publications. CLYNE, M., 1994. Inter-cultural communica- VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGOAI 259 tion at work: cultural values in discourse. Cam- bridge: Cambridge University Press. LARINA, T., 2008. Directness, Imposition and Politeness in English and Russian. Cambridge ESOL: Research Notes, 33, 33–38. Available from: http://www.cambridgeesol.org/rs_notes/rs_nts33. pdf [March 2012] LEECH, G. N., 1983. Principles of pragmatics. London and New York: Longman. THOMAS, J., 1983. Cross-cultural pragmatic failure. Applied Linguistics, 4, 91–112. THOMAS, J., 1995. Meaning in Interaction: an Introduction to Pragmatics. London and New York: Longman. WATTS, R., 2003. Politeness. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press. WIERZBICKA, A., 2002. Russian Cultural Scripts: The Theory of Cultural Scripts and its Applications. Ethos, Dec 2002, 30, 4. ProQuest Psychology Journals, 401–432. WIERZBICKA, A., 1991/2003. Cross- Cultural Pragmatics: The Semantics of Human Interaction. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter. WIERZBICKA, A., 2006a. English: Meaning and Culture. Oxford: Oxford University Press. WIERZBICKA, A., 2006b. Anglo scripts against “putting pressure” on other people and their linguistic manifestations. In: C. GODDARD, ed. Ethnopragmatics: Understanding Discourse in Cultural Context. Berlin: Mouton de Gruyter, 31–63. Council of Europe Committee of Ministers (1982): Recommendation R (82) 10 of the com- mittee of ministers to member states concerning modern languages. Available from: https://wcd. coe.int/com [April 2010]. ЛАРИНА, Т., 2009. Категория вежливости и с т и л ь ком м у н и ка ц и и : со п о с т а в л е н и е английских и русских лингвокультурных традиций. Москва: Языки славянских культур. ЛАРИНА, Т., 2012. Англичане и русские: язык, культура, коммуникация. Москва: Языки славянских культур. 260 DISCUSSING THE ROLE AND FUTURE OF THE HUMANITIES EDUCATION WORLDWIDE Anatoliy Kruglashov (Ukraina, Lietuva / Ukraina, Litwa) The situation with higher education all over the world needs comprehensive critical re- consideration and systematic reforms. Due to the increasing misbalance of changing market demands and universities’ propos- als, the lack of resources, the growing competition amongst leading models of education, and the conservative tendencies in educational management, universities have grown vulnerable and too inflexible vis-à-vis these and many other challenges. Special attention should be paid towards the humanities, as their popularity is repeat- edly questioned by both academics and the general public, provoking ongoing debates on the future of institutions related to this branch of knowledge and education and even the discipline itself. In an attempt to face the scope of the problems in humanities universities, the European Humanities University convoked an international conference under the title “The Mission of Humanities Universities in Eastern and Central Europe: Between Training and Bildung,” which took place in Vilnius on 6–7 June 2012. The confer- ence seemed to be very representative and gathered together participants from many countries, e.g., Albania, Belarus, Great Britain, Ireland, Lithuania, Moldavia, New Zealand, France, Russia, Slovakia, Ukraine, the USA and he Czech Republic. Researchers, professors and administrative staff from these counties presented different points of view and put forward new ideas and proposals concerning the agenda of the conference. Cross-cultural and inter- disciplinary dialogue contributed towards a better understanding of university education in the humanities, not only in the region of Central and Eastern Europe but from the standpoint of the global perspective as well. Participants and guests of the confer- ence listened to the greeting addresses of Anatoli Mikhailov (Rector of the European Humanities University, Vilnius, Lithuania), Dan Davidson (Acting Chair of the Gov- erning Board of the European Humanities University) and Pavel Tereshkovich (Di- rector of the Center for Advanced Stud- ies and Education, European Humanities University). The presentations made later by the participants reflected a wide variety of topics. Some of them were discussed in panels, e.g., “The University in the Re- gion—Is It an Autonomous Corporation?”, “Models of Universities in Central and Eastern Europe” and “Types of Transmitted Knowledge, or Entrepreneurial Universities and University Management,” etc. Others were concentrated into roundtables, for instance, “The Important Role of Values in European Humanities Education.” One very positive outcome of the conference was the active participation of EHU students and graduates in some activities there. VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGOAI 261 The topics regarded by the speakers and disputants of the conference as being of the utmost importance were the following: uni- versity autonomy—its status, problems and prospects; academic freedom—its friends and enemies; values and the humanitarian education; the latest know-how and meth- ods of education; and the quality and dis- crepancies of university management. The discussion on the Bologna process revealed many questions, doubts and expectations about the pros and cons of its implementa- tion. These wide ranges of issues provoked vivid debates, grounded on fears about the consequences of the implementation of this process in the participating countries, such as accelerating centralization and resource consumption (including cost-burdening). Another special event of the conference agenda worthy of mention here reflected the presentation of the newest publica- tion of the academic writings of professor Vladimir Furs. He worked at EHU for years and passed away in 2009. His colleagues and students warmly commemorated the scholarship and achievements of this dis- tinguished philosopher. Finally, the conference adopted the doc- ument, “The EHU 2012 Declaration Sup- porting the Mission of Liberal Arts Univer- sities in Eastern Europe.” The conference was dedicated to the 20th anniversary of the founding of EHU in Minsk (although, since 2005, the university has opened its doors to Belarusian and international students in Vilnius). The organizers of the conference will be publishing the proceedings as a special volume. More information on the conference agenda and participants may easily be found at <http://conferences.ehu. lt/index.php/humanities/2012>. 262 K n y g ų r e c e n z i j o s / r e c e n z j e k s i ą ż e k Словарь-тезаурус прилагательных русского языка. Ред. Л. Г. Бабенко. 2012. Екатеринбург: Издательство Уральского университета. 836 с. ISBN 978-5-7996-0662-6 Дануте Балшайтите (Lietuva / Litwa) Идеографическая лексикография (как теоретическая, так и практическая) имеет достаточно долгую историю, од- нако первые идеографические словари русского языка издаются только в 80-е годы прошлого века. Созданная в 80-е годы в Уральском государственном уни- верситете им. А. М. Горького рабочая группа «Русский глагол» (сохранившая свое название до сих пор) начинает раз- работку концепции идеографических словарей, на основе которой авторский коллектив осуществляет идеографиче- ское описание имен существительных (Большой толковый словарь русских существительных: Идеографическое описание. Синонимы. Антонимы. М., 2005) и глаголов русского языка («Боль- шой толковый словарь русских глаголов: Идеографическое описание. Синонимы. Антонимы. Английские эквиваленты. М., 2007). В одном из интервью научный руководитель группы профессор Л. Г. Ба- бенко подчеркнула, что «Словарь-теза- урус прилагательных русского языка» завершает «идеографическое описание русских слов разной грамматической природы» (http://www.svobodanews.ru/ content/transcript/397274.html). Это пер- вый словарь в системе русских словарей, в котором «осуществлено распределение прилагательных по смысловым лексиче- ским группам разного уровня иерархии (сферам, классам, группам и подгруп- пам» (с. 23). В словаре устанавливаются и отражаются системные семантические отношения русских прилагательных, что позволяет выявить специфическую категоризацию действительности. Создателями первого словаря-теза- уруса прилагательных проделана ко- лоссальная работа: на основе методики идентификации определены общие компоненты в семантике прилагатель- ных, позволяющие объединить их в смы- словые иерархически организованные группы. В качестве идентификаторов прилагательных составители словаря используют словосочетания, которые определяют как аналитические. В сло- варе более 15 тысяч прилагательных в разных значениях распределяются по иерархически организованным лекси- ко-тематическим классам («смысловым лексическим группам», с. 20): «по 15 семантическим сферам, 103 семанти- VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGOAI 263 ческим классам, 278 идеографическим группам и 358 подгруппам» (с. 20). О макроструктуре словаря Словарь характеризуется традиционной для тезаурусов структурой и состоит из двух частей: идеографической и алфа- витной. Первая часть «Идеографиче ское описание русских прилагательных» представляет собой перечень прила- гательных, распределенных по смы- словым группам, имеющим цифровые индексы. Структурную основу этой части словаря составляет иерархическая система понятий, которая обеспечивает поиск в направлении «понятие → лек- сическая единица». Верхний уровень иерархии составляют 15 денотативных сфер – максимальных по количеству классов слов, отображающих базовые категории бытия: неживая природа (1), вещества и материалы (2), живая при- рода (3), человек как живое существо (4), населенный пункт (5), нации (6), родственные и семейные отношения (7), человек и его внутренний мир (8), язык и речь (9), сверхъестественное (10), об- щественно-государственная сфера (11), конкретная физическая деятельность (12), социальная сфера жизни человека (13), восприятие окружающего мира (14), универсальные представления, смыслы и отношения (15). Самое общее понятие, образующее вершину иерархии, последовательно расчленяется на более конкретные понятия разного ранга. На- пример, представленную в оглавлении и структуре идеографической части словаря поуровневую структуру класса «Растительный мир», входящего в дено- тативную сферу «Живая природа», мож- но представить в виде схемы (cм. c. 264). Подобным образом можно схема- тизировать все 15 денотативных сфер, выделенных авторами словаря, и по- лучить графически представленную сеть понятий, отображаемых русскими прилагательными. Различающиеся и по своей структуре, и по количеству образующих их идео- графических классов, семантических групп и подгрупп, денотативные сферы отображают разную степень детализации действительности и ее фрагментов рус- скими именами прилагательными. Структура каждой денотативной сфе- ры отражает расчленение более общего понятия на более конкретные понятия разных рангов, отображаемые прила- гательными, составляющими идеогра- фические классы, группы и подгруппы. Принятая в словаре цифровая индекса- ция понятий позволяет легко установить их уровень в иерархии. Единицей описа- ния в словаре является прилагательное в одном из своих значений. Использование в словаре помет, характеризующих слово с точки зрения семантики (пе- рен.), функционально-стилистической отнесенности (например: книжн., спец., разг., разг.-сниж., жарг.) или эмоциональ- но-экспрессивной оценки (например: ласк., шутл., неодобр. и др.) позволяет выявить определенные стилистические приоритеты в лексикализации тех или иных понятий в русском языке. Для осуществления поиска в направ- лении «слово → понятие» во второй части словаря «Алфавитный список рус- ских прилагательных с указанием номера денотативно-идеографической группы 264 VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGO С хе м ат ич ес ко е из об ра ж ен ие и ер ар хи че ск ой о рг ан из ац ии к ла сс а «3 .1 . Р ас ти те ль ны й м ир » в со ст ав е де но та ти вн ой с ф ер ы «3 . Ж ив ая п ри ро да » 3. Ж и ва я п р и р о д а 3. 1. Р ас ти те л ьн ы й м и р 3. 1. 1. О б щ и е п о н ят и я, св яз ан н ы е с р ас те н и ям и 3. 1. 2. Н аз ва н и я р ас те н и й 3. 1. 2. 1. Р ас те н и я, п ло д ы и ли ч ас ти к о то р ы х уп о тр еб ля ю тс я ч ел о ве ко м в п и щ у и и сп о ль зу ю тс я п р и е е п р и го то вл ен и и 3. 1. 2. 1. 1. Д ер ев ья и к ус та р н и ки с о съ ед о б н ы м и п ло д ам и и ли ст ья м и 3. 1. 2. 1. 2. Тр ав ян и ст ы е р ас те н и я 3. 1. 2. 1. 2. 1. Тр ав ян и ст ы е р ас те н и я со с ъ ед о б н ы м и п ло д ам и и л и ст ья м и 3. 1. 2. 1. 2. 2. Тр ав ян и ст ы е р ас те н и я с п ло д ам и в в и д е яг о д , ф р ук то в 3. 1. 2. 1. 3. Л и ан ы с о съ ед о б н ы м и п ло д ам и и ли ст ья м и 3. 1. 2. 2. Р ас те н и я, п ло д ы и ли ч ас ти ко то р ы х н е уп о тр еб ля ю тс я че ло ве ко м в п и щ у 3. 1. 2. 2. 1. Д ер ев ья и к ус та р н и ки с н ес ъ ед о б н ы м и п ло д ам и и ли ст ья м и 3. 1. 2. 2. 2. Тр ав ян и ст ы е р ас те н и я 3. 1. 2. 2. 2. 1. Д ек о р ат и вн ы е тр ав ян и ст ы е р ас те н и я с н ес ъ ед о б н ы м и п ло д ам и л и ст ья м и 3. 1. 2. 2. 2. 2. Н ед ек о р ат и вн ы е тр ав ян и ст ы е р ас те н и я с н ес ъ ед о б н ы м и п ло д ам и и л и ст ья м и 3. 1. 2. 2. 3. Л и ан ы с н ес ъ ед о б н ы м и п ло д ам и и ли ст ьм и 3. 1. 2. 3. Д р уг и е р ас те н и я 3. 1. 3. Г р и б ы 3. 1. 4. П р и зн ак и , св о й ст ва р ас те н и я и е го п ло д о в 3. 1. 4. 1. В н еш н и е о со б ен н о ст и р ас те н и я и е го п ло д о в 3. 1. 4. 2. К ач ес тв а р ас те н и я и е го п ло д о в 3. 1. 4. 3. К ач ес тв а р ас те н и я, св яз ан н ы е с о со б ен н о ст ям и п р о и зр ас та н и я 3. 1. 5. С о во ку п н о ст ь р ас те н и й 3. 1. 6. Ч ас ти р ас те н и я и е го п ло д о в 3. 2. Ж и во е су щ ес тв о VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGOAI 265 в идеографиче ской части словаря» приводится алфавитный перечень всех приведенных в словаре прилагательных. Каждое прилагательное в алфавитном указателе снабжается цифровым индек- сом и названием группы. О микроструктуре идеографической части словаря Заголовочной единицей словарной ста- тьи этой части словаря является название денотативной сферы, класса, группы или подгруппы (см. схему), основными компонентами статьи – расположенные в алфавитном порядке составляющие данную идеографическую группу при- лагательные, например: 3.1.5. СОВОКУПНОСТЬ РАСТЕНИЙ Боровой; буреломный; глухой; девствен- ный; дремучий; дубравный; зарослевый; зеленый; ивняковый; куртинный; ле- сной; лесопарковый; лиственный; лоз- няковый; негустой; непролазный, разг.; огородный; непроходимый; опушечный; парковый; подлесочный; разнотравный; садовый; трущобный; цветниковый; чащобный. О микроструктуре алфавитной части словаря В словарной статье второй (алфавитной) части словаря 1) приводится прилага- тельное, 2) в круглых скобках указывает- ся количество значений прилагательного в данном словаре, 3) приводятся автор- ские речения, 4) указывается наименова- ние идеографической группы, к которой принадлежит прилагательное, и ее циф- ровой индекс. Словарные статьи, посвя- щенные многозначным прилагательным, отличаются сложной структурой – в разных значениях прилагательное может входить в разные группы. Так, например, прилагательное зеленый входит в состав 7 групп: ЗЕЛЁНЫЙ (7): З. поляна – 3.1.4.1. Внешние особенности растения и его плодов; З. плод – 3.1.4.2. Качества растения и его плодов; З. насаждения – 3.1.5. Совокупность растений; З. Лицо – 4.1.1.6. особенности кожного покрова человека; З. сыр – 4.3.1.4. Свойство объ- екта еды или питья; З. партия – 11.2.2. Политические партии и организации; З. трава – 14.1.3. Цвет. О содержащейся в словаре информации С точки зрения пользователя словарем, к особенностям этого словаря следует отнести необходимость обращаться за информацией к другим источникам. По- пытаемся показать основные вопросы, которыми задается читатель, раскрывая словарь прилагательных, на примере денотативного класса «Растительный мир» и входящей в него группы «Сово- купность растений». Прежде всего, обращает на себя вни- мание некоторая асимметричность как в структурировании иерархии понятий, так и в их наименованиях. Связанные между собой определенными отношени- ями, элементы любой системы образуют целостность, иерархическая система предполагает переход однородных эле- ментов от низшего к высшему (или от высшего к низшему). Уже расчленение понятия «3. Живая природа» на два более конкретныe понятия «3.1. Растительный 266 VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGO мир» и «3.2. Живое существо» обнару- живает отнесенность к одному уровню не вполне соотносимых понятий (мир и существо). Еще более разнородными оказываются номинации «3.1.1. Общие понятия», «3.1.2. Названия растений», «3.1.3. Грибы» и. т. д. (см. схему), обра- зующие более низкий уровень иерархии относительно понятия более высокого ранга «Растительный мир». Так, учиты- вая, что гриб – это «низшее растение, лишенное хлорофилла, размножающееся гл. образом спорами» (МАС), описание группы «грибы» вне группы «Названия растений» и на одном с ней уровне ока- зывается трудно объяснимым. Членение более общего понятия «3.1.2.1. Растения, плоды или части ко- торых употребляются человеком в пищу и используются при ее приготовлении» производится следующим образом: 3.1.2.1.1. Деревья и кустарники со съе- добными плодами и листьями. 3.1.2.1.2. Травянистые растения. 3.1.2.1.2.1. Травянистые растения со съедобными плодами и ли- стьями. 3.1.2.1.2.2. Травянистые растения с плодами в виде ягод, фруктов. 3.1.2.1.3. Лианы со съедобными плодами и листьями. При попытке разобраться в прин- ципах такой классификации возникает вопрос: почему деревья и кустарники определяются как имеющие съедобные только плоды и листья, тогда как среди травянистых растений выделяются еще имеющие и плоды в виде фруктов и ягод? Такое выделение двух подгрупп травя- нистых растений представляется произ- вольным, поскольку, во-первых, плодами некоторых древесных и кустарниковых пород, например, калины, шелковицы, бузины, барбариса, черемухи, являются ягоды, во-вторых, фрукты не являются плодами травянистых растений, в-тре- тьих, существительное «плод» является гиперонимом для существительного «ягода», существительное «плоды» – гиперонимом для существительного «фрукты» (ПЛОД 1. Орган растения, развивающийся из завязи цветка и со- держащий семена. Я́ГОДА Небольшой сочный плод кустарниковых или травя- нистых растений. ФРУКТ 1. обычно мн. ч. (ф р ô к т ы , -о в ), ед. ч. прост. Съедоб- ный сочный плод некоторых деревьев и кустарниковых растений. – МАС). Перечисляемые в составе группы «1.2.1.2.1. Травянистые растения со съе- добными плодами и листьями» прилага- тельные «брюквенный», «морковный», «редечный», «редисочный», «хреновый», «свекольный» соотносятся с существи- тельными, обозначающими растения со съедобными корнями, луковый, чесноч- ный – со съедобными луковицами, карто- фельный – со съедобными подземными клубнями (см. МАС, напр., МОРКО́ВЬ 1. Огородное растение сем. зонтичных, овощ. 2. собир. Съедобные утолщенные корни этого растения оранжевого цвета. ЧЕСНО́К 1. Огородное растение сем. лилейных, овощ. 2. собир. Луковицы этого растения, обладающие острым вкусом и резким запахом. КАРТОФ́ЕЛЬ 1. Огородное растение сем. пасленовых, овощ. 2. собир. Подземные клубни этого растения, употребляемые в пищу. – МАС). Обращение к толковому словарю VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGOAI 267 позволяет уточнить конкретизацию по- нятия «3.1.2.1.2. Травянистые растения» следующим образом: 3.1.2.1.2.1. Травянистые растения со съедобными плодами и листьями. 3.1.2.1.2.2. Травянистые растения со съедобными корнями. 3.1.2.1.2.3. Травянистые растения со съедобными луковицами. 3.1.2.1.2.4. Травянистые растения со съедобными клубнями. Еще один суще ственный вопро с связан с принципами отбора прилага- тельных для описания понятий дено- тативных групп и, в частности, группы «Растительный мир». Так, например, непонятным оказывается отсутствие в составе группы «3.1.2.1.2.2. Травяни- стые растения с плодами в виде ягод, фруктов» прилагательного клюквенный, которое авторами словаря относится к группе «14.1.3. Цвет» и в алфавитной части словаря приводится только в одном этом значении. Растения с несъедобными плодами и частями в словаре также делятся на «Деревья и кустарники» и «Травянистые растения», однако травянистые расте- ния, части которых не употребляются в пищу, подразделяются на декоративные и недекоративные, тогда как «Деревья и кустарники» на декоративные/неде- коративные не делятся. Отчасти отсут- ствие такого деления объяснимо тем, что по существу любое растение может использоваться для украшения (напр., ГВОЗДИ́КА1 Дикорастущее и садовое растение с цветками красной, розовой, белой окраски. – МАС) и в этой ситу- ации может называться декоративным (ДЕКОРАТИ́ВНЫЙ, 1. Предназначен- ный, служащий для украшения чего-л. – МАС). Распределение же соотносимых с существительными, называющими тра- вянистые растения, прилагательных по группам декоративные/недекоративные растения ставит перед пользователем словарем непростую задачу: ему пред- стоит разобраться, почему прилагатель- ные васильковый (ВАСИЛЁК Травя- нистое растение сем. сложноцветных, с синими цветками, встречающееся преимущественно среди посевов озимых хлебов. – МАС), вьюнковый (ВЬЮНО́К Вьющееся травянистое сорное расте- ние. – МАС), лютиковый (ЛЮТ́ИК Тра- вянистое растение с ядовитым соком и, преимущественно, желтыми цветками. – МАС) относятся к группе «декоративные растения», а прилагательные туберозный (ТУБЕРО́ЗА, -ы, ж. Травянистое деко- ративное растение сем. амариллисовых, с душистыми белыми, собранными в кисть цветками (используется в пар- фюмерии для получения эфирного масла). – МАС) и резедовый (РЕЗЕДА́ Травянистое растение с колосообразны- ми или кистеобразными соцветиями. – МАС) – к группе «недекоративные», прилагательное камышовый – к группе «недекоративные растения», а прила- гательное тростниковый, осоковый – к группе «3.1.2.2.3 Другие растения» (ср.: КАМЫ́Ш Высокое травянистое расте- ние сем. осоковых, растущее по берегам рек, озер, на болотах. ТРОСТНИ́К Вы- сокое травянистое растение сем. злаков, с пирамидальной метелкой, растущее по берегам водоемов и на болотах. ОСО́КА Травянистое растение с узкими плот- 268 VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGO ными, нередко режущими длинными листьями, растущее обычно в сырых, болотистых местах. – МАС). Выбор но- минации «декоративные/недекоративные растения» для идеографического опи- сания прилагательных представляется произвольным, поскольку прилагатель- ные, причисляемые авторами словаря к этим группам, содержат и другие общие компоненты значений, позволяющие иначе группировать прилагательные, соотносимые с названиями травянистых растений. Выявление общего семантического компонента для прилагательных фу- ражный (ФУРА́Ж Растительный корм для лошадей, скота и птицы. Концен- трированный фураж (зерна злаковых и бобовых культур). Грубый фураж (сено, солома, мякина). – МАС), соломенный (СОЛО́МА Сухие стебли злаковых ра- стений, остающиеся после обмолота зер- на. – МАС) и для остальных прилагатель- ных, отнесенных к группе «3.1.2.2.2.2. Недекоративные травянистые растения с несъедобными плодами и листьями», представляется задачей неразрешимой. Необъяснимо включение прилагатель- ного «гортензиевый» в группу «3.1.2.2.1. Деревья и кустарники с несъедобными плодами и листьями», а прилагательного «розовый» (соотносимого с существи- тельным «роза») – в группу «3.1.2.2.2.1. Декоративные травянистые растения с несъедобными плодами и листьями». Примечательно, что существительное «гортензия», с которым соотносится прилагательное гортензиевый, является одним из очень немногих названий ра- стений, которые словари определяют как декоративные (ГОРТЕ́НЗИЯ Травяни- стое декоративное растение с крупными соцветиями. – МАС). Создается впечатление, что в ряде случаев составители словаря, опреде- ляя основной критерий для вычленения общего компонента значения прилага- тельных, опираются на субъективные представления, не всегда отвечающие интуиции других носителей языка. При знакомстве с конкретной сло- варной статьей идеографической части словаря читатель прежде всего задается вопросами о принципах и критериях отбора прилагательных, являющихся компонентами словарной статьи и со- ставляющих одну идеографическую группу. Так, 26 имен прилагательных в словарной статье «3.1.5. СОВОКУП- НОСТЬ РАСТЕНИЙ» (см. выше) по замыслу авторов составляют «список прилагательных одной денотативно- идео графической группы, соотносимых с одним понятием» (с. 27). Насколько полным является этот список, отражает ли он парадигматические отношения входящих в него прилагательных и на чем основывались авторы словаря, со- ставляя его, читателю остается только догадываться. Вот только некоторые из вопросов. Почему в списке прила- гательных есть слово «лиственный» («состоящий из деревьев, с листьями»), но отсутствует оппозиционное ему по семантическим признакам «состоящий из деревьев, имеющих листья в виде хвои» (см. МАС, хвойный во втором значении) прилагательное «хвойный»?; есть прилагательное негустой, но отсут- ствуют другие члены той же лексической парадигмы «густой», «редкий»? Для прилагательных «лесной», «парковый», VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGOAI 269 «лесопарковый», приводимых в ана- лизируемой словарной статье, общим элементом значения является «растущий в», но этот же компонент значения имеют прилагательные «полевой», «луговой», «степной», которые в данной статье отсутствуют. Не приводится в данной статье и прилагательное «тундровый», соотносимое с существительным тун- дра – «ТУ́НДРА Тип растительности субарктического и южной части арктиче- ского пояса Земли, характеризующийся развитием мохового и лишайникового покровов, наличием низкорослых ку- старников и т. п., а также природная зона с таким типом растительности. – МАС). Прилагательные полевой, луговой, степ- ной, тундровый включаются авторами словаря в словарную статью «1.4. Земная поверхность и ее признаки» в одном списке с такими прилагательными, как «езженый», «кремнистый», «колеблю- щийся», «левобережный», «неровный», «островной» и т. д., хотя у существи- тельных поле, луг, степь и у существи- тельного лес есть общие компоненты значения – «пространство» и «заросшее, покрытое растительностью» (см. Еф- ремова Т. Ф. Новый словарь русского языка. Толково-словообразовательный. М., 2000). Как известно, при описании зна- чения прилагательного крайне важно учитывать его синтагматику, которая проявляется прежде всего в атрибутив- ных сочетаниях с существительными. Большим достоинством словаря явля- ется включение в каждую словарную статью его алфавитной части, посвя- щенную отдельному прилагательному, составленных авторами словосочетаний, «указывающих на типовую сочетаемость прилагательного» (с. 28) в каждом из его значений. К сожалению, при соотноше- нии прилагательных, входящих, напри- мер, в класс «совокупность растений» с их репрезентацией в алфавитной части словаря, остается неясным, что авторы понимают под типовой сочетаемостью и каким образом определяют количество значений у приведенных в словаре при- лагательных. Так, у прилагательного девственный в алфавитной части словаря указывается иллюстрируемое словосочетанием дев- ственный лес только одно это значение, в соответствии с которым оно относится только к одной группе «3.1.5. Совокуп- ность растений» (ср.: ДЕВСТВЕН- НЫЙ 1. Не живший половой жизнью; целомудренный, невинный. || перен. отличающийся высокой нравственной чистотой, целомудрием; чистый, непо- рочный. 2. Находящийся в первобытном состоянии, еще не подвергшийся чело- веческому воздействию; нетронутый, первобытный, первозданный. – МАС). Вызывает сомнение и отнесенность в одном из десяти выделяемых авторами словаря значений прилагательного «глу- хой» к группе «1.12. Погода климат и их признаки», поддерживаемая словосоче- таниями глухая осень и глухая ночь (ср.: ГЛУХО́Й 6. перен. Такой, когда прекра- щается движение, замирает жизнь. Была глухая осень. Солнце ходило низко, и в четвертом часу вечера уж смеркалось. Л. Толстой, Корней Васильев. Глухая пол- ночь. Все молчит! Тютчев, Олегов щит. Ночь стояла поздняя, глухая, ни единой звезды не было над головой. Паустов- ский, Далекие годы. – МАС). 270 VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGO Беглый анализ очень небольшого фрагмента словаря и некоторые раз- мышления о возможности в некоторых случаях несколько иного подхода к идеографическому описанию русских прилагательных ни в коей мере не от- рицают предложенных авторами прин- ципов распределения прилагательных по денотативным группам. Затронутые проблемы лишь подтверждают слож- ность структуризации атрибутивных значений и категоризации прилагатель- ных, для которых характерна «развитая многозначность и сильная дискурсивная обусловленность их лексической семан- тики» (с. 23), а некоторые поставленные вопросы позволяют предположить, что метод идентификации оказывается не- достаточно жестким или же не всегда применяется достаточно гибко. Словарь содержит богатейший мате- риал для дальнейших лексикологических и лексикографических исследований, его издание является этапом в развитии лексикографии и идеографического опи- сания слов, принадлежащих к разным лексико-грамматическим классам. PYŁAT, Joanna, 2012. Friends of Poland 1982–2009. London: Polish Socie- ty of Arts and Sciences Abroad, ss. 133. Jolanta Chwastyk-Kowalczyk (Lenkija / Polska) Obecność naszych rodaków na Wyspach Brytyjskich oraz ich wielopłaszczyznowa działalność na różnych polach życia – na niwie społecznej, politycznej, naukowej, literackiej, artystycznej itp. – jest trwałym elementem szeroko pojętej kultury za- chodnioeuropejskiej. Tradycje polskie na ziemi brytyjskiej są najbardziej widoczne od drugiej wojny światowej, kiedy to w Londynie ulokował swoją siedzibę Polski Rząd na Obczyźnie, budując struktury or- ganizacyjne państwa na uchodźstwie, gdzie stacjonowali nasi żołnierze po przybyciu z Francji w 1940 roku, później – od 1946 roku żołnierze II Korpusu Armii Andersa, tworząc powojenną społeczność „pokolenia niezłomnych”. To właśnie oni zapoczątko- wali tworzenie – w swoistym odruchu, z potrzeby serca – różnych organizacji i towa- rzystw, poszukiwali sposobów pomagania rodakom na całym świecie, szczególnie tym zniewolonym przez reżim komunistyczny. Doktor Joanna Pyłat opisała znakomity i zarazem zdumiewający swoim zasięgiem oddziaływania przykład aktywności Pola- ków na obczyźnie, jakim było powstanie i funkcjonowanie fundacji „Friends of Poland” w latach 1982–2009 w Londynie. Jak ustaliła Autorka, ta charytatywna fun- dacja powstała 8 stycznia 1982 roku, krótko po ogłoszeniu stanu wojennego w Polsce. Miała działać na rzecz Polaków w Kraju i poza jego granicami. Zwiastunem tej cen- nej publikacji były wcześniejsze artykuły Autorki, które ukazały się w londyńskim „Dzienniku Polskim i Dzienniku Żołnierza” oraz publikacji zwartej, będącej pokłosiem międzynarodowej konferencji pt. „Niepod- ległościowe uchodźstwo polskie w Europie i na świecie i jego rola w pomocy Krajowi po układzie jałtańskim 1945–1990”, która odbyła się na PUNO (Polski Uniwersytet Na Obczyźnie w Londynie) w dniach 23–24 października 2009 roku. Książka Joanny Pyłat jest cenna z wielu powodów. Po pierwsze, dokumentuje ob- szerny i ważny fragment życia polskiego w Wielkiej Brytanii, pokazując, że oprócz dwudziestowiecznego, wszechobecnego konsumpcjonizmu można odnaleźć wartość w niesieniu pomocy drugiemu człowiekowi. Postawa taka zapewne mieści się w wyzna- waniu głębokich wartości chrześcijańskich. A powszechnie wiadomo, że Kościół Kato- licki odegrał w życiu naszych emigrantów niebagatelną rolę jednoczącą, wspierającą i utrzymującą poczucie przynależności na- rodowej. Po drugie – z naukowego punktu widzenia – jest to rzetelnie opracowana, op- arta na dostępnych w Londynie bezcennych źródłach archiwalnych i bogatej literaturze przedmiotu publikacja, która poszerza naszą wiedzę w tym zakresie. 272 VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGO Po raz kolejny okazało się, że takie ini- cjatywy, jak utworzenie fundacji służącej dobru ogólnemu, są wynikiem pomysłu grupy przyjaciół i znajomych, w tym przypadku: Wojciecha Fudakowskiego, Andrzeja Jaraczewskiego, Piotra Chła- powskiego, Tadeusza Potworowskiego, Elli Krzysztoporskiej, Hanny Tokarskiej, Konrada Hykiela, Antoniego Darzewskiego i innych. Ci ludzie dobrej woli, działając równolegle do akcji podejmowanych przez „Solidarity with Solidarity” (organizowała wiece i demonstracje przed Ambasadą PRL w Londynie), pragnęli również przeciwsta- wić się „PRL-owskiej propagandzie w bry- tyjskiej TV i gazetach, które bezkrytycznie przyjmowały kłamstwa i oszczerstwa ko- munistyczne” (s. 10). Czynili to poprzez pi- sanie sprostowań, oświadczeń, odbywanie spotkań z przedstawicielami brytyjskiego establishmentu. Podstawową działalnoś- cią stowarzyszenia było jednak niesienie wsparcia internowanym i ich rodzinom. Od chwili powstania Fundusz współpracował z Komisją Charytatywną Episkopatu Polski, za pośrednictwem której rozprowadzano dary, oraz z innymi organizacjami polskimi i brytyjskimi, jak np. British Health Service. Autorka pokazała trud zdobywania fun- duszy, sponsorów, napływ darów od osób indywidualnych i firm brytyjskich, promo- cję, przygotowanie transportów, ofiarną pracę wielu wolontariuszy, ochotników, harcerzy – np. 34. drużyny im. Andrzeja Małkowskiego, harcerek z drużyny „Na- rew” (z Wimbledon/Putney), z drużyny nr 3 „Błękitne” z Chiswick; organizacji polonijnych (Zjednoczenie Polskie w Wiel- kiej Brytanii, Zjednoczenie Polek), zbiórkę witamin, konserw, lekarstw, obuwia i ubrań. Ciekawie prezentuje się lista darczyńców z dokładnymi danymi. Tu wspomnieć należy o dobrej tradycji ujawniania wartości darów i publicznego rozliczania się z zebranych pieniędzy. Tak było np. w akcjach pomo- cowych przeprowadzonych wielokrotnie po zakończeniu wojny w „Dzienniku Polskim i Dzienniku Żołnierza”: np. pomoc maryna- rzom ze statku „Puszczyk”, którzy poprosili o azyl polityczny w Wielkiej Brytanii, po- moc walczącym z komunistami Węgrom w 1956 roku, akcje popowodziowe w Polsce czy akcje Polskiej Macierzy Szkolnej. Dla czytelnika krajowego takie transparentne działania są czymś niezwykłym i nowym. W Polsce bowiem do tej pory nie ma zwyczaju tłumaczenia się organizatorów zbiórek z rozdysponowania środków pochodzących z wszelkich akcji charytatywnych. To jest skutkiem komunistycznej deprawacji oraz braku zasad moralnych, niestety. J. Pyłat usytuowała działalność fundacji „Friends of Poland” na tle kontekstu poli- tycznego i społecznego w Zjednoczonym Królestwie, ukazując mapę innych orga- nizacji wspierających opozycję w Polsce, takich jak: Polish Solidarity Compaign (PSC), Fundusz Pomocy Krajowi, Soli- darity with Solidarity, Lejburzystowski Polish Solidarity Compaign, Medical Aid For Poland, the Polish Aid Committee in Cardiff (Komitet Pomocy Polsce), the Scottish-Polish Fund in West Barns and in Edinburgh i inne. Uważam, że Autorka powinna jeszcze wspomnieć o organizacji Polish Students Appeal Found. Organizacja ta pomogła polskim studentom, którzy po wybuchu stanu wojennego znaleźli się w Wielkiej Brytanii, w dokończeniu nauki na wyższych uczelniach na Wyspach. Po przemianach ustrojowych w Polsce po 1989 roku „Friends of Poland”, po prze- VI. MOKSLINIO GYVENIMO KRONIKA / KRONIKA ŻYCIA NAUKOWEGOAI 273 kazaniu ponad 600 000 funtów brytyjskich Funduszowi Tadeusza Mazowieckiego, skupiła się na niesieniu pomocy rodakom na przedwojennych polskich Kresach Wschodnich. Fundacja chciała „ulżyć w biedzie i chorobach obywatelom polskim mieszkającym w Rzeczypospolitej Polskiej oraz osobom pochodzenia polskiego miesz- kającym poza jej obecną granicą wschodnią państwa polskiego” (s. 31). Popłynęła fala transportów pomocy ośrodkom w kraju, na Ukrainie, Litwie i Białorusi – pokazuje to szczegółowo Tabela 3 (s. 54–56). Zazna- czyć należy, że w okresie całej działalności Fundacji wszyscy pracowali jako wolon- tariusze, nigdy nie było w niej żadnych płatnych etatów. To oni zbierali fundusze na terenie Wielkiej Brytanii, Kanady i USA, organizując loterie, licytacje ofiarowanych na ten cel przedmiotów, sprzedaże kart okolicznościowych. Autorka publikacji, penetrując sprawozdania, raporty, zesta- wienia finansowe z działalności, dotarła do dokładnych wykazów darczyńców i ludzi oddanych sprawie oraz wysokości niesio- nej pomocy. Ponownie Kościół Katolicki, jako instytucja zaufania publicznego, był dysponentem setek ton żywności, lekarstw, środków czystości oraz odzieży, które rozdzielał w swoich parafiach rozsianych na rubieżach. Pomógł również Fundacji w zorganizowaniu letniego wypoczynku w Kraju dzieci polskiego pochodzenia z Rosji, Mołdawii, Ukrainy, Białorusi. Członkowie pokolenia „niezłomnych” naturalną koleją rzeczy tracą siły, odcho- dzą. Z tego prozaicznego powodu wiosną 2009 roku Fundacja „Friends of Poland” zawiesiła swoją długoletnią działalność, przekazując do depozytu Bibliotece Pol- skiej w Londynie materiały archiwalne w postaci filmów dokumentujących różne akcje pomocowe, transporty darów itp. Inne dokumenty, takie jak raporty, sprawo- zdania, korespondencję, ulotki etc. złożono w Instytucie i Muzeum gen. Władysława Sikorskiego w Londynie. 6 kwietnia 2009 roku zwieńczeniem działalności Fundacji była uroczystość wręczenia polskim i bry- tyjskim działaczom polskich odznaczeń w Ambasadzie RP w Londynie. Książka Friends of Poland 1982–2009 jest kolejną historyczną cegiełką, mozolnie budującą obraz polskich uchodźców w wol- nym świecie. Pozycji tej nie można pominąć w badaniach nad polską emigracją. Ważna dla socjologów, polityków, historyków i medioznawców. Istotną jej częścią jest bo- gata dokumentacja w postaci zdjęć i skanów oryginalnych dokumentów Fundacji. 274 A n o n s a i / z a p o w i e d z i 2012 m. lapkričio mėn. 15–16 d. Klaipėdos universiteto Humanitarinių mokslų fakulte- tas kviečia dalyvauti tarptautinėje mokslinė- je konferencijoje „Tradicijos ir modernumo dermė, priešprieša, raidos perspektyvos“. Konferencijos kalbos: lietuvių, anglų, rusų. Dalyvių anketas ir pranešimų santraukas (iki 800 spaudos ženklų) prašome siųsti iki 2012 m. spalio 15 d. elektroninio pašto adresu bc.hmf@ku.lt. Konferencijos prane- šimų pagrindu parengti ir mokslinio straips- nio reikalavimus atitinkantys straipsniai bus spausdinami KU moksliniame žurnale RES HUMANITARIAE. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * Cмоленский государственный универси- тет приглашает принять участие в фор- мировании 3-го выпуска международ- ного межвузовского сборника научных трудов «Метафора и действительность. Границы выразительности». В сборнике планируется опубликовать статьи по следующим проблемам: метафора как элемент языковой игры, метафора и кон- текст, метафора и текст, метафора и ас- социативное мышление, семантическая неопределенность метафоры. Предвари- тельные сроки публикации сборника – январь 2013 года. Статьи принимаются до 1 ноября 2012 года. Более подробная информация ответственного редактора сборника: nem-smolgu@yandex.ru. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 3–5 May, 2013. The international confer- ence “Semantics and Linguistics Theory 23” (SALT 23) will be held at UC Santa Cruz. Abstracts on any topic in natural language semantics are invited for oral presentations and posters. Details about the submission process will be posted soon on the SALT 23 webpage: http://babel.ucsc.edu/salt/ Submission deadline December 2, 2012, 11:59pm PST. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * 8–11 July, 2013. The Languages and Lin- guistics Research Unit of the Athens Insti- tute for Education and Research (ATINER) will hold its 6th Annual International Con- ference on Languages & Linguistics in Athens, Greece. The aim of the conference is to bring together scholars and students from all areas of languages, linguistics and other related disciplines. Please submit a 300-word abstract by email, atiner@atiner. gr, by 10 December 2012. For further de- tails, please go to the conference website: http://www.atiner.gr/languages.htm. Уважаемые коллеги! Информацию о конференциях, семинарах и других научных событиях Вашего вуза для публикации в “Respectus Philologicus” присылайте нам по адресу <аla.diomidova@vukhf.lt>. SPRENDIMAI 275 VII. REIKALAVIMAI STRAIPSNIAMS „Respectus Philologicus“ yra tarptautinis regioninis filologijos mokslo srities leidinys, skirtas gra- matikos, semantikos ir semiotikos krypties (H 352) tyrinėjimams. Pagrindinės „Respectus Philologicus“ kalbos: lietuvių, lenkų, anglų, rusų. Leidinyje „Respectus Philologicus“ skelbiami Centrinės ir Rytų Europos regiono mokslininkų probleminiai straipsniai, vertimai, recenzijos, diskusijos, mokslinės veiklos apžvalgos. Straipsnių apimtis – iki 30 000 spaudos ženklų (0,75 autorinio lanko), apžvalgos, recenzijos – iki 10 000 spaudos ženklų (0,25 autorinio lanko). Dėl didesnės apimties publikacijų būtina iš anksto susitarti su redakcija. Tekstai redakcijai pateikiami atspausdinti dviem egzemplioriais, 12 punktų Times New Roman šriftu, 1,5 eilutės intervalu. Prie atspausdinto teksto turi būti pridėta ir elektroninė teksto rinkmena (teksto redaktorius – „Microsoft Word“, „Office 2003“ arba naujesnė versija, rinkmeną galima atsiųsti elek- troniniu paštu adresais <eleonora.lassan@flf.vu.lt>, <respectus@gmail.com>, <makarovavv@gmail. com>. Tekstai turi būti parengti pagal toliau pateikiamus publikacijų struktūros reikalavimus. Straipsniai, parengti nesilaikant šių reikalavimų, redakcijos nesvarstomi. Redakcija pasilieka sau teisę, esant reikalui, redaguoti tekstą ir kartu nekeisti jo esmės. Leidiniui „Respectus Philologicus“ teikiamus mokslo straipsnius vertina mažiausiai du redaktorių kolegijos paskirti recenzentai. Iš jų bent vienas yra ne redaktorių kolegijos narys. Recenzentų pavardės neskelbiamos. Straipsnio pabaigoje redakcija nurodo datas, kada jis gautas ir kada priimtas publikuoti. Leidinyje skelbiami tik straipsniai, neskelbti nei viena iš pagrindinių leidinio kalbų. Redaktorių kolegija primena, kad pirmiausia priimami publikuoti straipsniai, atitinkantys žurnalo kryptį. Tai diskurso analizės tarpdisciplininiai tyrimai, kognityvinės lingvistikos, semiotikos, literatūros sociologijos, kultūrologijos tyrimai. Redaktorių kolegija publikuoti priima ribotą kiekį straipsnių, neatitinkančių žurnalo krypties, – ne daugiau kaip 2–3 straipsnius į vieną numerį. Priimti publikuoti straipsniai spausdinami atsižvelgiant į rankraščio gavimo eilę. „Respectus Philologicus“ publikacijų struktūra Leidiniui „Respectus Philologicus“ teikiami mokslo straipsniai turi atitikti tokius reikalavimus. Juose turi būti suformuluotas mokslinių tyrimų tikslas bei metodologija, aptarta nagrinėjamos problemos tyrimų būklė, pateikti ir pagrįsti tyrimų rezultatai, padarytos išvados, nurodyta naudota literatūra. Prie lietuviškai skelbiamo mokslinio straipsnio turi būti pridėta ne mažiau kaip 1 000 spaudos ženklų santrauka lietuvių kalba, nurodyti reikšminiai žodžiai ir ne mažiau kaip 2 000 spaudos ženklų santrauka anglų, o prie skelbiamo nelietuviškai – ne mažiau kaip 1 000 spaudos ženklų anotacija ir reikšminiai žodžiai straipsnio kalba bei ne mažiau kaip 2 000 spaudos ženklų apimties santrauka anglų kalba. Publikacijos pradžioje, kairėje puslapio pusėje, nurodomi autoriaus vardas ir pavardė, įstaiga, kuriai ji(s) atstovauja (straipsnio kalba), autoriaus įstaigos (autoriaus pageidavimu – namų) adresas (autoriaus atstovaujamos šalies kalba), telefonas, elektroninio pašto adresas, moksliniai interesai. Toliau puslapio centre spausdinama publikacijos antraštė. Straipsnio pavadinimas, autoriaus vardas ir pavardė, atstova- ujama įstaiga kartojami prieš Summary straipsnio pabaigoje anglų kalba. Pabaigoje nurodomi autoriaus vardas ir pavardė, mokslinis, pedagoginis vardas (-ai), pareigos atstovaujamos institucijos padalinyje. Nuorodos pateikiamos pagal tarptautinę Harvardo nuorodų sistemą (išsamiau apie šią sistemą žr.: http://www.bournemouth.ac.uk/library/using/harvard_system.html). 276 Nuorodos pagrindiniame tekste pateikiamos pagal tokią schemą: skliausteliuose nurodoma šaltinio autoriaus pavardė, leidimo metai, puslapis ar puslapiai. Pvz.: Skaitytojas ar kalbėtojas „pasitelkia savo kultūrinę patirtį aiškindamasis kodus ir ženklus, kurie sudaro tekstą“ (Fiske 1998, p. 17). Autoriaus pavardės galima neminėti, jei iš konteksto visiškai aišku, kuriam autoriui priklauso nurodomas darbas. Jeigu šaltinis turi daugiau negu du autorius, nurodoma tik pirmojo autoriaus pavardė: (Kubilius ir kt. 1999, p. 131). Jei literatūros sąraše du ar daugiau autorių yra bendrapavardžiai, autoriaus pavardė nuo- rodoje papildoma vardo inicialu: (Kubilius V. 1999, p. 15). Paaiškinimai ir pastabos pateikiamos pagrindinio teksto puslapio apačioje 10 p. šriftu. Jų numer- acija ištisinė. Literatūros sąrašas pateikiamas po pagrindinio teksto (arba po paaiškinimų, jei jie yra). Šaltiniai sąraše išdėstomi abėcėlės tvarka pagal autorių pavardes. Šaltiniai kirilica arba kitais nelotyniškais šriftais pateikiami sąrašo pabaigoje. Šaltiniai nurodomi pagal šiuos pavyzdžius: Nurodant knygą: AUTORIAUS PAVARDĖ, Vardo inicialai, leidimo metai. Knygos pavadinimas. Leidimo numeris (jei ne pirmasis). Leidimo vieta: Leidėjas. Nurodant grožinį kūrinį, straipsnį ar kitą smulkesnį tekstą iš knygos: AUTORIAUS PAVARDĖ, Vardo inicialai, leidimo metai. Grožinio kūrinio, straipsnio ar kito smulkesnio teksto pavadinimas. In: Knygos autoriaus ar sudarytojo (pastaruoju atveju prieš sudarytojo pavardę pridedama santrumpa Sud.) Vardo inicialai. PAVARDĖ. Knygos pavadinimas. Leidimo vieta: Leidėjas, puslapiai. Nurodant straipsnį iš periodinio leidinio: AUTORIAUS PAVARDĖ, Vardo inicialai, leidimo metai. Grožinio kūrinio, straipsnio ar kito teksto pavadinimas. Periodinio leidinio pavadinimas, numeris, puslapiai. Nurodant straipsnį iš elektroninio leidinio: AUTORIAUS PAVARDĖ, Vardo inicialai, leidimo metai. Grožinio kūrinio, straipsnio ar kito smul- kesnio teksto pavadinimas. Prieiga: Interneto puslapio adresas [Žiūr. data]. Jei tas pats autorius tais pačiais metais paskelbė daugiau negu vieną nurodomą šaltinį, jie skiriami raidėmis a, b, c ir t. t., rašomomis prie leidimo metų. Literatūros sąraše šaltiniai pateikiami chronolo- giškai pagal išleidimo datą. Lietuviškame tekste senesni lietuviški asmenvardžiai rašomi pagal dabartinės rašybos normas, o nelietuviški asmenvardžiai – originalo forma pagal leidinio Lietuvių kalbos rašyba ir skyryba (parengė SLIŽIENĖ, N.; VALECKIENĖ, A., 1992. Vilnius: Mokslas, 81–89) reikalavimus. Pirmą kartą tekste pateikiamas visas vardas (vardai) ir pavardė, o toliau galima rašyti tik to paties asmens pavardę. Ne- lietuviškame tekste asmenvardžiai rašomi pagal tos kalbos rašybos tradicijas. Nuorodose visi aprašai rašomi originalo forma. Tekste minimus kitakalbius arba senesnius literatūros kūrinių, mokslo veikalų, periodinių leidinių pavadinimus rekomenduojama rašyti originalo forma. Jeigu jie verčiami arba trumpinami, skliaustuose arba išnašoje reikia nurodyti originalų pavadinimą. Nuorodose ir literatūros sąraše visi pavadinimai rašomi originalo forma. Knygų, žurnalų ir kitų atskirų leidinių pavadinimai tekste rašomi kursyvu, o smulkesnių, atskiro leidinio nesudarančių, grožinės literatūros kūrinių, straipsnių ir kitų tekstų – kabutėse. Grožinę literatūrą tekste rekomenduojama cituoti originalo kalba išlaikant autentišką rašybą ir sky- rybą. Kitakalbės grožinės literatūros citatos gali būti išverstos išnašose. Kitakalbes mokslinės literatūros citatas rekomenduojama išversti. VII. REIKALAVIMAI STRAIPSNIAMS / ZASADY OPRACOWYWANIA PUBLIKACJI SPRENDIMAI 277 ZASADY OPRACOWYWANIA PUBLIKACJI „Respectus Philologicus” – to międzynarodowe regionalne czasopismo naukowe z dziedziny nauk humanistycznych, ze szczególnym uwzględnieniem gramatyki, semiotyki i semantyki (H 352). Podstawowymi językami „Respectus Philologicus” są języki polski, litewski, angielski i rosyjski. W „Respectus Philologicus” publikowane są artykuły naukowe o charakterze problemowym, prze- kłady, recenzje, dyskusje uczonych regionu i przeglądy działalności naukowej w państwach Europy Środkowej i Wschodniej. Wielkość artykułu – do 30 000 znaków drukarskich (0,75 arkusza autorskiego); przeglądy, recenzje – do 10 000 znaków drukarskich (0,25 arkusza autorskiego). Przekroczenie dopusz- czalnej wielkości publikacji wymaga wcześniejszego uzgodnienia z redakcją. Przysłane do publikacji materiały powinny być wydrukowane przy zastosowaniu 1,5 odstępu między wierszami, czcionka: 12 Times New Roman w 2 egzemplarzach. Jednocześnie powinna być przedłożona wersja elektroniczna (edytor tekstów – Microsoft Word, Office 2003 i późniejsze wersje; materiały można przysłać pocztą elektroniczną na adres: <eleonora.lassan@flf.vu.lt>, <respectus@gmail.com>, <makarovavv@gmail. com>). Teksty powinny odpowiadać wyszczególnionym poniżej wymogom odnośnie struktury publikacji. Prace nie spełniające wymogów stawianych przez redakcję nie będą przyjmowane. Redakcja zastrzega sobie prawo do dokonywania zmian redaktorskich w nadesłanych publikacjach bez zmiany istoty treści. Każdemu artykułowi naukowemu, który otrzymuje redakcja, kolegium wyznacza dwóch recenzentów, z których jeden nie jest członkiem kolegium redakcyjnego. Recenzja jest przeprowadzana anonimowo. Na końcu artykułu redakcja wpisuje datę otrzymania i przyjęcia artykułu do druku. Publikowane są jedynie oryginalne prace naukowe, które nie były publikowane w żadnym z podstawowych języków czasopisma. Kolegium redakcyjne przypomina, że w pierwszej kolejności przyjmuje do druku materiały odpo- wiadające kierunkowi czasopisma. Są to badania interdyscyplinarne w zakresie analizy dyskursu, prace z dziedziny językoznawstwa kognitywnego, semiotyki, socjologii literatury i kulturologii. Materiały nie odpowiadające profilowi czasopisma będą przyjmowane do publikacji w ograniczonej ilości – max. 2-3 artykuły w numerze. Prace przyjęte do druku publikowane są według kolejności ich złożenia w redakcji. Struktura publikacji w „Respectus Philologicus” Do „Respectus Philologicus” przyjmowane są artykuły naukowe, odpowiadające wymogom dotyczącym takiego rodzaju publikacji. W artykule koniecznym jest sformułowanie i określenie me- todologii badania naukowego, przeanalizowanie istniejących badań dotyczących danego zagadnienia, przedstawienie i uzasadnienie rezultatów analizy materiału, wyszczególnienie wykorzystanej literatury. Artykuł naukowy w języku polskim powinien mieć dołączoną adnotację (nie mniej niż 1 000 znaków drukarskich) w języku polskim, słowa kluczowe w języku polskim i angielskim i streszczenie w języku angielskim (nie mniej niż 2 000 znaków drukarskich). Na początku artykułu, z lewej strony, podaje się imię i nazwisko autora, instytucję, którą reprezentuje autor, adres instytucji i adres domowy (wg życzenia autora), telefon i adres poczty elektronicznej, zainteresowania naukowe. Poniżej, pośrodku strony – tytuł artykułu. Tytuł artykułu, imię i nazwisko autora, instytucja, którą reprezentuje autor, należy powtórzyć w języku angielskim na końcu artykułu, przed Summary. Na końcu podaje się imię i nazwisko autora, tytuł/stopień naukowy, stanowisko zajmowane w jednostce reprezentowanej instytucji. Odsyłacze bibliograficzne są cytowane według systemu harwardzkiego (więcej o systemie zob. http://www.bournemouth.ac.uk/library/using/harvard_system.html). Odsyłacze w tekście podstawowym zaznaczamy następująco: w nawiasie – nazwisko autora, rok wydania, po przecinku – strona lub strony. VII. REIKALAVIMAI STRAIPSNIAMS / ZASADY OPRACOWYWANIA PUBLIKACJI 278 Np. „Część ciała nie może występować w funkcji instrumentu” – pisał Grochowski (Grochowski 1974, s. 163). Nazwisko autora można pominąć, jeżeli z kontekstu jednoznacznie wynika, że jest on autorem cytowanej pracy. Przy pracach zbiorowych podajemy nazwisko pierwszego autora (Kubilius i in. 1999, p. 131). Jeżeli w spisie wykorzystanych źródeł i opracowań dwóch lub więcej autorów ma to samo na- zwisko, to w odsyłaczu przy nazwisku autora należy umieścić inicjał imienia (Kubilius V. 1999, p. 15). Objaśnienia i uwagi należy umieszczać na dole strony i opracowań czcionką 10. Numeracja ciągła pozycji w całości spisu. Spis wykorzystanych źródeł i opracowań umieszczamy po tekście podstawowym (lub po ob- jaśnieniach, o ile takowe są). Źródła w spisie podajemy w układzie alfabetycznym według nazwisk autorów. Źródła zapisane cyrylicą lub innym, nie łacińskim alfabetem umieszczamy na końcu spisu. Źródła opisujemy następująco: Dla monografii: NAZWISKO AUTORA, Inicjały, rok wydania. Nazwa książki. Numer wydania (jeżeli nie pierwsze). Miejsce wydania: Wydawca. Dla utworów literatury pięknej, artykułów lub innych, niedużych tekstów z książki: NAZWISKO AUTORA, Inicjały, rok wydania. Tytuł utworu literackiego, artykułu lub innego, nie- dużego tekstu z książki. In: Inicjały. NAZWISKO autora lub red./oprac./ed. książki (w takim wypadku przed nazwiskiem należy umieścić skrót red./oprac./ed.). Tytuł książki. Miejsce wydania: Wydawca, strony. Dla artykułów z wydań periodycznych: NAZWISKO AUTORA, Inicjały, rok wydania. Tytuł utworu literackiego, artykułu lub innego, niedużego tekstu. Tytuł wydania periodycznego, numer, strony. Dla artykułów z wydań internetowych: NAZWISKO AUTORA, Inicjały, rok wydania. Tytuł utworu literackiego, artykułu lub innego, niedużego tekstu z książki. Dostępne na stronie: Tytuł strony internetowej [od data]. Jeżeli ten sam autor w tym samym roku ogłosił więcej niż jedno cytowane źródło, należy je opatrzyć literami a, b, c itd., umieszczając przy roku wydania. W spisie wykorzystanych źródeł i opracowań umieszczamy od najstarszego do najpóźniejszego. Imiona własne pisze się zgodnie ze współczesnymi zasadami ortografii. W odsyłaczu, pojawiają- cym się w tekście po raz pierwszy, podaje się nazwisko i inicjały, dalej można ograniczyć się tylko do nazwiska tego autora. Występujące w tekście zapożyczone i przestarzałe nazwy źródeł literackich, badań naukowych, wydań periodycznych zaleca się podawać zgodnie z oryginałem. W przypadku, kiedy są one tłumaczone lub skracane, w nawiasie lub w odsyłaczu trzeba koniecznie podać nazwę w oryginale. W odsyłaczach i spisie wykorzystanych źródeł i opracowań wszystkie nazwy i tytuły należy podawać w oryginale. Tytuły książek i innych publikacji oddzielnych w tekście pisze się za pomocą kursywy, a tytuły niedużych utworów literackich, artykułów i innych tekstów nie będących publikacją samodzielną – w cudzosłowie. Literaturę piękną zaleca się cytować w języku oryginału, zachowując zasady pisowni i interpunkcji źródła. Tłumaczenie cytatu z utworu literackiego w języku obcym można przytoczyć w przypisie. Cytaty z literatury naukowej w języku obcym zaleca się przytaczać w tłumaczeniu. VII. REIKALAVIMAI STRAIPSNIAMS / ZASADY OPRACOWYWANIA PUBLIKACJI SPRENDIMAI 279 GENERAL REQUIREMENTS FOR PUBLICATIONS Respectus Philologicus is a philological periodical dealing with the problems of grammar, semiotics and semantics (H 352). The main languages of the journal are English, Lithuanian, Polish and Russian. Respectus Philologicus publishes scholarly articles, translations, reviews, overviews, and discussions of the philological research in the region. The size of articles is up to 30 000 printed characters; the size of reviews and overviews is up to 10 000 printed characters. In case the paper exceeds the normal length the editors’ consent for its publication is needed. Texts for publication should be submitted in two hard copies printed in Font 12 Times New Roman with 1,5 space between the lines. A copy on a floppy disc (Microsoft Word, Office 2003 or newer version) should be added to the hard copy. Contributions can also be sent by e-mail: the address is <eleonora.lassan@flf.vu.lt>, <respectus@gmail.com>, <makarovavv@ gmail.com>. The authors of the manuscripts are expected to conform to the format and documentation requirements that are given below. All articles submitted for publication in Respectus Philologicus are reviewed by at least two academics appointed by the Editors’ Board: one of the reviewers is not a member of the Editorial Board. Reviewers stay anonymous. The dates of submission and acceptance for publication of the paper are indicated by the editors at the end of the manuscript. The editorial board of Respectus Philologicus reminds, that priority to be published is given to the articles, that correspond to Respectus Philologicus’s main trend, which is: interdisciplinary researches in the field of the analysis of a discourse, researches in the field of cognitive linguistics, semiotics and sociology of literature, cultural science. Articles that do not conform with Respectus Philologicus’s profile, are accepted for the publication in a limited quantity – no more than 2 or 3 articles per issue. Accepted articles are published in accordance to an order of their arrival to the board. Format and Documentation Requirements Articles submitted for publication in Respectus Philologicus should include the aim(s) and meth- odology of the research, give an overview of the work previously done on the investigated problem, substantiate the achieved results of the research and have a list of references. The manuscript should also contain an abstract of at least 2 000 printed characters in volume in English, key words in English and Lithuanian, and a summary of at least 1 000 printed characters in Lithuanian. The author’s full name, academic affiliation, office (or home) address, telephone, e-mail address and research interests should be typed in the top left-hand corner of the first page, and the title of the article should be given below in the centre of the page. The author‘s full name, degree, position and academic affiliation are to be presented at the end of the article. References should be presented according to the international Harvard System (comprehensive explanation in: http://www.bournemouth.ac.uk/library/using/harvard_system.html). Citations in the text are referred to in the text by giving the author’s surname, the year of publica- tion and the page numbers. e.g. As Harvey (1992, p. 21) said, “good practices must be taught” and so we... The author’s surname is not given in parentheses if it naturally occurs in the context. If there are more than two authors, the surname of the first author should be given followed by et al. e.g. Office costs amount to 20% of total costs in most business (Wilson et al. 1997) If there are several authors with the same surname, the author’s name is supplemented with initials. VII. REIKALAVIMAI STRAIPSNIAMS / ZASADY OPRACOWYWANIA PUBLIKACJI 280 Explanations and notes should be given as footnotes and should be printed in Font 10. The nu- meration is continuous. References to documents cited in the text should be listed at the end of a piece of work (or after the notes). They are arranged in alphabetical order by author’s surnames. References in Cyrillic and other non Latin type should be given at the end of the list. They are referred according to the examples: Reference to a book: Author’s SURNAME, INITIALS., Year of publication. Title. Edition (if not the first). Place of publication: Publisher. Reference to a work of artistic literature, article or short texts from a book: Author’s SURNAME, INITIALS., Year of publication. Title of a fictional work, article or short texts. In: INITIALS. SURNAME, of author or editor of publication followed by ed. or eds. if relevant. Title of book. Place of publication: Publisher, Page number(s). Reference to an article in a journal: Author’s SURNAME, INITIALS., Year of publication. Title of article. Title of journal, Volume number and (part number), Page numbers. Reference to an article from web recourses: Author’s SURNAME, INITIALS., Year. Title [online]. (Edition). Place of publication, Publisher (if ascertainable). Available from: URL [Accessed date]. When an author has published more than one cited document in the same year, these are distinguished by adding lower case letters (a, b, c, etc.) after the year. In References they should be listed chronologi- cally (earliest first). Proper names should be spelt in accordance with the latest orthographical norms. When mentioned for the first time, a personal name should include both first and last names, but when repeated the family name is sufficient. If the work is written in another language, proper names should be written according to the spelling rules of that language. When books or periodicals published in foreign languages are mentioned in the paper, their titles are to be put in the original language. If their titles are translated or abbreviated, their original title should be indicated in brackets or in footnotes. All titles in footnotes are to be written in their original language. Titles of books, journals and other periodicals should be italicized. Titles of other works that are not separate publications are to be given in quotation marks. Quotations from the fictions should be written in their original language and their original spelling and punctuation should be preserved. Citations from the fictions in foreign languages may be translated in footnotes, while quotations from scholarly works are expected to be translated. VII. REIKALAVIMAI STRAIPSNIAMS / ZASADY OPRACOWYWANIA PUBLIKACJI SPRENDIMAI 281 ТРЕБОВАНИЯ К ОФОРМЛЕНИЮ СТАТЕЙ “Respectus Philologicus” – филологический журнал, посвященный исследованиям в области грамматики, семиотики и семантики (Н 352). Основные языки “Respectus Philologicus” – литовский, польский, английский, русский. В журнале “Respectus Philologicus” публикуются проблемные научные статьи, переводы, ре- цензии, дискуссии ученых региона и обзоры научной деятельности в регионе. Объем статей – до 30 000 печатных знаков (0,75 авторского листа), обзоры, рецензии – до 10 000 печатных знаков (0,25 авторского листа). Превышение объема публикации следует заблаговременно оговаривать с редакцией. Присылаемые для публикации материалы должны быть отпечатаны через 1,5 ин- тервала, шрифт 12 Times New Roman в 2 экземплярах. Одновременно должна быть представлена электронная версия (текстовый редактор – Microsoft Word Office 2003 и выше). Материалы можно присылать электронной почтой по адресам: <eleonora.lassan@flf.vu.lt>, <respectus@gmail.com>, <makarovavv@gmail.com>. Тексты должны соответствовать приводимым ниже требованиям к структуре и оформлению публикации. Статьи, оформленные с нарушением настоящих «Требований», редакция к рассмо- трению не принимает. Редакция оставляет за собой право в случае необходимости вносить в текст редакционные изменения, не искажающие основное содержание статьи. Для каждой поступающей в редакцию “Respectus Philologicus” научной статьи редакционная коллегия назначает двух рецензентов, один из которых не является членом редакционной коллегии. Рецензирование проводится анонимно. В конце статьи редакция указывает даты поступления и принятия статьи к печати. “Respectus Philologicus” публикует только статьи, не выходившие ранее на языках журнала. Редколлегия журнала напоминает, что в первую очередь к публикации принимаются статьи, соответствующие направлению журнала. Это междисциплинарные исследования в области анализа дискурса, исследования в области когнитивной лингвистики, семиотики и социологии литературы, культурологии. Статьи, не соответствующие профилю журнала, принимаются к публикации в ограниченном количестве – не более 2-3 статей в номер. Статьи, принятые к публикации, печа- таются в порядке поступления рукописи в журнал. Структура публикаций в “Respectus Philologicus” В “Respectus Philologicus” принимаются научные статьи, соответствующие требованиям, предъ- являемым к публикациям такого рода. В статье необходимо сформулировать цель и определить методологию научного исследования, рассмотреть соответствующие исследования по данной проблеме, представить и обосновать результаты анализа материала, указать использованную литературу. Научная статья на русском языке должна быть снабжена аннотацией (не менее 1 000 печатных знаков) на русском языке, ключевыми словами на русском и английском языках и резюме на английском языке (не менее 2 000 печатных знаков). В начале статьи, слева, указываются имя и фамилия автора, учреждение, представляемое автором (на языке статьи), адрес учреждения (на языке представляемой автором страны), кон- тактный телефон, адрес электронной почты, область научных интересов автора. Ниже, в центре страницы, располагается название статьи. Название статьи, имя и фамилия автора, аффилиация повторяются перед Summary – на английском языке. В конце указываются имя и фамилия автора, ученая степень, звание и должность в представляемом автором учреждении. VII. REIKALAVIMAI STRAIPSNIAMS / ZASADY OPRACOWYWANIA PUBLIKACJI 282 Библиографические отсылки оформляются по международной гарвардской системе (под- робнее см.: http://www.bournemouth.ac.uk/library/using/harvard_system.html). Библиографические отсылки в тексте оформляются следующим образом: в круглых скобках указывается фамилия автора, год издания, страница (или страницы). Напр.: В середине прошлого века прозвучал знаменитый призыв разобраться в сущности явления, называемого «разрушительным залпом словесной артиллерии по крепости рассудка» (Болинджер 1987, с. 24). Фамилию автора можно не упоминать, если авторство указываемой работы понятно из кон- текста. Если отсылка дается на работу нескольких авторов, указывается фамилия первого автора, напр.: (Баранов и др. 2004, с. 15). Если в списке литературы есть однофамильцы, в таком случае фамилия автора в отсылке сопровождается инициалом, напр.: (Баранов А. 1990). Пояснения и замечания располагаются в конце страницы в виде постраничных сносок (шрифт 10, нумерация сносок сплошная). Список литературы располагается в конце текста. Источники приводятся в алфавитном порядке по фамилиям авторов. В начале списка указываются источники на латинице, затем – на кириллице и иных графических системах. Источники оформляются следующим образом: Для книг: ФАМИЛИЯ АВТОРА, Инициалы, год издания. Название книги. Номер издания (если это не первое издание). Место издания: Издательство. Для произведений художественной литературы, статей или других небольших текстов из книги: ФАМИЛИЯ АВТОРА, Инициалы, год издания. Название художественного произведения, статьи или другого небольшого текста из книги. In: Инициалы автора или составителя. (В последнем случае перед инициалами составителя добавляется сокращение «Сост.».) ФАМИЛИЯ. Название книги. Место издания: Издательство, страницы. Для текстов из периодических изданий: ФАМИЛИЯ АВТОРА, Инициалы, год издания. Название художественного произведения, статьи или другого небольшого текста. Название периодического издания, номер, страницы. Для текстов из электронных изданий: ФАМИЛИЯ АВТОРА, Инициалы, год издания. Название художественного произведения, статьи или другого небольшого текста. Режим доступа: адрес страницы в Интернете [См. дата]. Если в тексте упоминаются опубликованные в том же году труды одного автора, в таком случае в библиографической отсылке и списке литературы год издания сопровождается буквой а, б, в и т. д. (в хронологическом порядке, если это возможно). В тексте на литовском языке литовские антропонимы пишутся в соответствии с совре- менными нормами правописания, остальные антропонимы – в оригинальной форме согласно правилам, изложенным в «Орфографии и пунктуации литовского языка» (Сост. SLIŽIENĖ, N.; VALECKIENĖ, A., 1992. Lietuvių kalbos rašyba ir skyryba. Vilnius: Mokslas, 81–89). В тексте на других языках антропонимы пишутся в соответствии с традициями правописания в тех языках. При первом упоминании в тексте указываются полностью имя и фамилия, в дальнейшем тексте можно указывать лишь фамилию того же лица. Упоминаемые в тексте иностранные или старинные названия литературных произведений, науч- ных трудов, периодических изданий рекомендуется писать в оригинальной форме. Если подобные названия даются в переводе, в скобках или сноске следует указать оригинальное название. В сносках, библиографических отсылках и списке литературы все названия пишутся в оригинальной форме. Художественную литературу рекомендуется цитировать на языке оригинала, сохраняя право- писание и пунктуацию источника. В сносках можно приводить перевод цитаты из художествен- ной литературы на иностранном языке. Цитаты из научной литературы на иностранном языке рекомендуется давать в переводе. VII. REIKALAVIMAI STRAIPSNIAMS / ZASADY OPRACOWYWANIA PUBLIKACJI SPRENDIMAI 283 VIII. MŪSŲ AUTORIAI / NASI AUTORZY / OUR AUTHORS A l t y b a y e v a , S a u l ė Kazachstano Nacionalinio pedagoginio universiteto Magistrantūros ir doktorantūros programų instituto docentė, filologinių mokslų daktarė; Kazachstanas Doc., dr nauk filologicznych – Kazachski Narodowy Uniwersytet Pedagogiczny, Instytut Studiów Ma- gisterskich i Doktoranckich; Kazachstan Assoc. Prof., Dr. – Kazakh National Pedagogical University, Institute of Magistracy and Doctorate Programs, Department of Philological Specialities; Kazakhstan B a l š a i t y t ė , D a n u t ė Vilniaus universiteto Užsienio kalbų instituto Romanų kalbų katedros profesorė, humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lietuva Prof., dr nauk humanistycznych – Uniwersytet Wileński, Instytut Języków Obcych, Katedra Języków Romańskich; Litwa Prof., Dr. – Vilnius University, Institute of Foreign Languages, Department of Romance Languages; Lithuania B i r ž i e t i e n ė , S k i r m a n t ė Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinio fakulteto Lietuvių filologijos katedros docentė, humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lietuva Docent, dr nauk humanistycznych – Uniwersytet Wileński – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, Katedra Filologii Litewskiej; Litwa Assoc. Prof., Dr. – Vilnius University, Kaunas Faculty of Humanities, Department of Lithuanian Philol- ogy; Lithuania B u i v i d a v i č i ū t ė , L i n a Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinio fakulteto Lietuvių filologijos katedros doktorantė; Lietuva Doktorantka – Uniwersytet Wileński – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, Katedra Filologii Litewskiej; Litwa Doctoral student – Vilnius University, Kaunas Faculty of Humanities, Department of Lithuanian Philol- ogy; Lithuania C e c h a n o v i č i u s , A r t ū r a s Vilniaus universiteto absolventas, magistras; Lietuva Mgr – Uniwersytet Wileński; Litwa MA – Vilnius University; Lithuania 284 C h w a s t y k - K o w a l c z y k , J o l a n t a Jano Kochanovskio universiteto Kielcuose profesorė, Bibliotekininkystės ir žurnalistikos instituto di- rektoriaus pavaduotoja, habilituota humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lenkija Prof., dr hab. – Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach, zastępca Dyrektora Instytutu Bibliote- koznawstwa i Dziennikarstwa; Polska Prof., Dr. Habil. – Jan Kochanovski University in Kielce; Assist. Director – Institute of Librarianship and Journalism; Poland C i b u l s k i e n ė , J u r g a Lietuvos edukologijos universiteto Filologijos fakulteto Anglų kalbos didaktikos katedros vedėja, docentė, humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lietuva Doc., dr nauk humanistycznych – Litewski Uniwersytet Edukologii, Wydział Filologiczny, kierownik Katedry Dydaktyki Języka Angielskiego; Litwa Assoc. Prof., Dr. – Lithuanian University of Educational Sciences, Faculty of Philology, Head of Depart- ment of English Didactics; Lithuania G r i g a i t i s , M i n d a u g a s Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinio fakulteto Lietuvių filologijos katedros doktorantas; Lietuva Doktorant – Uniwersytet Wileński – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, Katedra Filologii Litewskiej; Litwa Doctoral student – Vilnius University, Kaunas Faculty of Humanities, Department of Lithuanian Philol- ogy; Lithuania J u z e l ė n i e n ė , S a u l ė Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinio fakulteto Lietuvių filologijos katedros docentė, humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lietuva Doc., dr nauk humanistycznych – Uniwersytet Wileński – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, Katedra Filologii Litewskiej; Litwa Assoc. Prof., Dr. – Vilnius University, Kaunas Faculty of Humanities, Department of Lithuanian Philol- ogy; Lithuania K r u g l a s h o v, A n a t o l i y Černivcy’ų nacionalinio J. Fedkovičiaus universiteto Politologijos ir valstybinio valdymo katedros vedėjas, profesorius, politikos mokslų daktaras; Ukraina; Europos humanitarinio universiteto magistrų programos „Europos tyrimai“ vadovas; Lietuva Prof., dr nauk politycznych – Czernowicki Narodowy Uniwersytet im. J. Fiedźkowicza, kierownik Katedry Politologii i Administracji Państwowej; Ukraina; Europejski Uniwersytet Humanistyczny, kierownik programu studiów magisterskich „Badania europejskie”; Litwa Prof., Dr. – Yuriy Fedkovich Chernivitsi National University, Head of Department of Political Science and Governmental Management; Ukraine; European Humanities University, Supervisor of “European Investigations” MA; Lithuania VIII. MŪSŲ AUTORIAI / NASI AUTORY / OUR AUTHORS SPRENDIMAI 285 K r ū m i n i e n ė , J a d v y g a Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinio fakulteto Tarptautinių ryšių prodekanė, Germanų filologijos katedros profesorė, humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lietuva Prof., dr nauk humanistycznych – Uniwersytet Wileński – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, Katedra Filologii Germańskiej, Prodziekan ds. Współpracy z Zagranicą; Litwa Prof., Dr. – Vilnius University, Kaunas Faculty of Humanities, Vice-Dean for International Relations, Department of Germanic Philology; Lithuania K o r y c k a , A n n a Jano Kochanovskio universiteto Kielcuose Lenkų filologijos instituto doktorantė (lingvistikos kryptis); Lenkija Doktorantka (w zakresie językoznawstwa) – Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach, Instytut Filologii Polskiej; Polska Doctoral student – Jan Kochanowski University in Kielce, Institute of Polish Studies; Poland K o v t u n , N a t a l i a Va d i m o v n a Sibiro valstybinio universiteto Filologijos ir kalbinės komunikacijos instituto Rusų ir visuotinės literatūros katedros vedėja, profesorė, habilituota humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Rusija Prof. dr hab. – Syberyjski Uniwersytet Federalny, Instytut Filologii i Komunikacji Językowej, kierownik Katedry Literatury Rosyjskiej i Obcej; Rosja Prof., Dr. Habil. – Siberian Federal University, Philology and Language Communication Institute, Head of Department of Russian and Foreign Literature; Russia L a r i n a , Ta t i a n a Vi k t o r o v n a Rusijos Tautų draugystės universiteto, Maskvos valstybinio lingvistikos universiteto profesorė, habilituota humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Rusija Prof. dr hab. – Uniwersytet Przyjaźni Narodów w Rosji, Moskiewski Państwowy Uniwersytet Lingwi- styczny; Rosja Prof., Dr. Habil. – Peoples’ Friendship University of Russia, Moscow State Linguistic University; Russia L a s s a n , E l e o n o r a R u f i m o v n a Vilniaus universiteto Filologijos fakulteto Rusų filologijos katedros profesorė; Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinio fakulteto Sociokultūrinių tyrimų centro vyriausioji mokslo darbuotoja; habilituota humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lietuva Prof. dr hab. – Uniwersytet Wileński, Wydział Filologiczny, Katedra Filologii Rosyjskiej; starszy pracownik naukowy w Centrum Badań Socjokulturowych Uniwersytetu Wileńskiego – Wydział Hu- manistyczny w Kownie; Litwa Prof., Dr. Habil. – Vilnius University, Faculty of Philology, Department of Russian Philology; Senior Researcher – Vilnius University, Kaunas Faculty of Humanities, Sociocultural Research Centre; Lithuania Ł u c z y ń s k i , M i c h a ł Jogailaičių universiteto Krokuvoje, Filologijos fakulteto Bendrosios ir indoeuropiečių kalbotyros katedros doktorantas, lenkų filologijos magistras; Lenkija VIII. MŪSŲ AUTORIAI / NASI AUTORY / OUR AUTHORS 286 Mgr filologii polskiej, doktorant – Uniwersytet Jagielloński, Wydział Filologiczny, Katedra Języko- znawstwa Ogólnego i Indoeuropejskiego; Polska Doctoral student, MA in Polish Philology – Jogaila University in Krakow, Faculty of Philology, Depart- ment of General and Indo-European Linguistics; Poland M a j k a , Wo j c i e c h Krokuvos pedagoginio universiteto Šiuolaikinių kalbų instituto adjunktas, humanitarinių mokslų dak- taras; Lenkija Adiunkt, dr nauk humanistycznych – Uniwersytet Pedagogiczny w Krakowie, Instytut Neofilologii; Polska Adjunct Prof., Dr. – Pedagogical University of Krakow, Institute of Modern Languages; Poland M a z u r k i e w i c z , M i c h a ł Jano Kochanovskio universiteto Kielcuose adjunktas, humanitarinių mokslų daktaras; Lenkija Adiunkt, dr nauk humanistycznych – Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach; Polska Adjunct Prof., Dr. – Jan Kochanovski University in Kielce; Poland O z y u m e n k o , V l a d i m i r I v a n o v i c h Rusijos Tautų draugystės universiteto docentas, humanitarinių mokslų daktaras; Rusija Doc., dr nauk humanistycznych – Uniwersytet Przyjaźni Narodów w Rosji; Rosja Assoc. Prof., Dr. – Peoples’ Friendship University of Russia; Russia P i a s t a , E w a A n n a Jano Kochanovskio universiteto Neofilologijos centro adjunktė, humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lenkija Adiunkt, dr nauk humanistycznych – Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach, Samodzielny Zakład Neofilologii; Polska Adjunct Prof., Dr. – Jan Kochanovski University in Kielce, Centre of Neophilology; Poland R a g a i š i e n ė , Vi l i j a Lietuvių kalbos instituto Leksikografijos centro mokslo darbuotoja, Valstybinės lietuvių kalbos komisijos Programų skyriaus vadovė, humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lietuva Dr nauk humanistycznych – pracownik naukowy w Zakładzie Leksikografii Instytutu Języka Litewskiego, kierownik Działu Programów w Państwowej komisji Języka Litewskiego; Litwa Research Fellow, Dr. – Institute of the Lithuanian Language, Centre for Lexicography; Head of Pro- gramme Department – Lithuanian State Language Commission; Lithuania S e r e d ž i ū t ė , Vi k t o r i j a Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinio fakulteto Lietuvių filologijos katedros absolventė, lietuvių literatūros magistrė; Lietuva Mgr – Uniwersytet Wileński – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, Katedra Filologii Litewskiej; Litwa MA in Lithuanian Literature – Vilnius University, Kaunas Faculty of Humanities, Department of Lithu- anian Philology; Lithuania VIII. MŪSŲ AUTORIAI / NASI AUTORY / OUR AUTHORS SPRENDIMAI 287 S é r i o t , P a t r i c k Lozanos universiteto Menų fakulteto Slavų kalbų katedros profesorius, habilituotas humanitarinių mokslų daktaras; Šveicarija Prof. dr hab. – Uniwersytet w Lozannie, Wydział Sztuki, Katedra Języków Słowiańskich; Szwajcaria Prof., Dr. Habil. – Lausanne University, Faculty of Arts, Department of Slavonic Languages; Switzerland S i n e l n i k o v a , L a r a N i k o l a e v n a Lugansko Taraso Ševčenkos nacionalinio universiteto profesorė, habilituota humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Ukraina Prof. dr hab. – Ługański Uniwersytet Narodowy im. Tarasa Szewczenki; Ukraina Prof., Dr. Habil. – Luhansk Taras Shevchenko National University; Ukraine S v i d e r s k i e n ė , D a l i a Lietuvių kalbos institutoVardyno skyriaus jaunesnioji mokslo darbuotoja; Lietuva Młodszy pracownik naukowy – Zakład Onomastyki, Instytut Języka Litewskiego; Litwa Junior Researcher – Institute of the Lithuanian Language, Department of Onomastics; Lithuania S z a j e w s k i , J a c e k Jano Kochanovskio universiteto Kielcuose Užsienio kalbų instituto lektorius, magistras; Lenkija Wykładowca, mgr – Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego w Kielcach, Międzywydziałowe Studium Języków Obcych; Polska Lecturer, MA – Jan Kochanowski University in Kielce, Department of Foreign Languages; Poland Š a r k a u s k i e n ė , S k i r m a n t ė Vilniaus universiteto Kauno humanitarinio fakulteto Lietuvių filologijos katedros docentė, humanitarinių mokslų daktarė; Lietuva Doc., dr nauk humanistycznych – Uniwersytet Wileński – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kownie, Katedra Filologii Litewskiej; Litwa Assoc. Prof., Dr. – Vilnius University, Kaunas Faculty of Humanities, Department of Lithuanian Philol- ogy; Lithuania VIII. MŪSŲ AUTORIAI / NASI AUTORY / OUR AUTHORS RESPECTUS PHILOLOGICUS 2012 Nr. 22 (27) Leidžiamas nuo 1999 m. 2012 10 25. Tiražas 150 egz. Leidžia VU Kauno humanitarinis fakultetas ir Uniwersytet Jana Kochanowskiego – Wydział Humanistyczny w Kielcach Išleido Vilniaus universitetas, Vilniaus universiteto leidykla Universiteto g. 1, LT-01513 Vilnius Spausdino UAB „Baltijos kopija“ Kareivių g. 13B, LT-09109 Vilnius